The Black 'Messiah'

By Gérard Aumont.

There is one salient fact of to-day to which Europe and America can not shut their eyes. It is the surreptitious agitation of the inferior races, those whom evolution left behind—the negro and negroid types. This menace grows with every year.

Their own problems are so different that the white races, save for the few individuals who have studied the situation, have been prevented from grasping the full import of the threat. But some times there occur events which seem almost like mysterious providential warnings, and they will indeed be doomed if they do not find sufficient wisdom to use these to put themselves upon their guard.

A superficial view is to blame the war for this state of things. Those who have gone more deeply into the question uphold the view that the danger has been latent for long, and that the war merely served to bring conditions to the verge of crisis, to put a spark to the train of powder. In any case, the situation may be summed up briefly as follows.

An immense multitude of blacks and kindred races from every corner of the Globe, took part in the greatest shock of modern times—witnessed, in other words, a mortal blow to the prestige of the white races, by destroying the legend of their solidarity; and the point of conflict was the very heart of European civilization. For whole years these blacks looked at the life of a country which they did not know, and could not understand. They acquired, to some extent, even the habits of the Aryan; and, when they returned to their own countries, carried with them a smouldering hate, a secret and deep-seated envy.

To take a single instance. When Punjab Sipahis talk among themselves of France, they tell of its infinite charm and boast that when the time is ripe they will go over and take possession of those fertile plains, and live in that delightful climate. I will not make the reader's blood boil with indignation by hinting at the fouler designs implied. This is only one crude illustration of a gigantic movement which is actually in progress—a far more serious menace than the old terror of the 'Yellow Peril'.

Needless to say, the strategy of the invasions dare not yet show itself on the material plane. The 'Wise Men of the East' are very wise, and know that revolutions are not wrought by politicians, but by philosophers. Rousseau counted for much more than Robespierre, Karl Marx than Nicolai Lenin. The campaign against the supremacy of the higher races is therefore carried on, at the present time, by subtly undermining the spiritual bastions of Europe and America.

There is a heavy export trade of sham oriental moralities; pretentious schools of bunkum imitation of Hindu philosophy, together with a horde of rascally 'holy men' who batten on the hysteria of sexually neuresthenic females. It is, so to speak, a gradual anaesthesia of the civilized world, a world which has already been shaken to its base spiritually and morally by the advance of scientific knowledge, and which has greedily sniffed this chloroform in sheer folly born of boredom, its curiosity accepting a mentality which it ignores or knows only by the tourist orientalism of the picturesqueness of the bazaars.

But the old world can still get a grip on itself. The present moment is become favourable. Its enemies have over-played their hand. They have put up a bluff which makes the wise guy shake his head in sorrow. They have tried to suffocate us with the hot and somewhat foetid air of a lot of bunk about universal reconciliation; and on this fragile pedestal they have tried to set up a marionette Messiah, a kala admi—a nigger! And to increase its joy at our ridiculous position and our shame, have chosen one who is not only a pervert, but an emasculate imbecile.

They would hardly dare to attempt to put over so blatant and obscene a fraud; if they had not good reason for doubting whether there remained at the bottom of the hearts of the white civilized races, their ancient courage and inherited nobility. But it is not sufficient to dismiss the intrigue with a contemptuous smile. The mischief has gone so far that the human spirit will be obliged to resent the insult with a kick. This caricature of a prophet, stuffed and stuck up against the world, a laughing stock to humanity must be taken seriously to this extent: that he has been put up by the sinister forces that pull his strings as a ballon d'essai. By his reception, they will judge whether it is safe to go any further.

The appeal of the inferior races is, perhaps, a taint of atavism in our blood. Those weary spirits among us who despair of life, who fear to fall from the long ladder of evolution; are always ready to listen to the siren calls of the bestial. From the sentimental Yogi to the jazz band, the soft luxurious mire attracts those degenerate types who have forgotten their manhood and their womanhood. However, there are sentinels to the fortress of the soul, and they are on the alert. The grotesque theatricalities of the renegade Annie Besant, the Barnum of the buck Messiah Krishnamurti, must serve to sharpen the will of the white race; not only to defend itself; but to sally forth once more as in the spacious days of Good Queen Bess, and reconquer our foregone prestige and mastery.

Let no mistake be made! Our very life is at stake. The black man's melody is a siren song! We must reply by acts, assert our reason and our right!

The Krishnamurti plot, which—if men of courage and brains step forward on guard—will soon have no existence but in the history of the errors and follies of mankind, is cynical and redoubtable, most of all because it is based upon an actual spiritual fact.

The old sanctions of our race are actually outworn. The bankruptcy of religion and ethics has left our ship without a compass, and for nearly the last quarter of a century, the most intelligent of mankind in every country of the world, have been awaiting a new Teacher to supply them with new charts and point out a new Star by which they may rule their course over the dark and doubtful ocean of existence. The secret guardians of the race, the true initiates, who only appear in such times of emergency as the present; have foreseen the necessity of a new World-Teacher, and provided him. He has been formally proclaimed. He has formally announced His Law, and He is prepared to offer to the world the proofs and the justification of his mission.

The con game of Besant's nigger is thus not only an insult; it is an usurpation and a fraud.

White men and women must choose between these alternatives: Will they yield, content to be the black man's slave, after having been his master? or will they stand to, and reply by an energetic spiritual reaction, which will restore the threatened equilibrium of the races?

The white champion has appeared. He who, under the aegis of the Spiritual Masters of the planet, has proclaimed the Law of Thelema, the Law of Love, comprehended and directed by Will: the Law which bids each man pursue the proper orbit of his destiny, and to develop himself around his own true centre of Light, will bring back welfare to his own race, and establish Peace with Victory upon the Earth.

Ho! for his chariot wheels that whirl afar!

His hawk's eye flashing through the silver star!

Upon the heights his standard shall he plant

Free, equal, passionate, pagan, dominant,

Mystic, indomitable, self-controlled,

The red rose glowing on the cross of gold . . .

Yea! I will wait throughout the centuries

Of the Universal man-disease

Until that morn of his Titanic birth. . . .

The Saviour of the Earth!

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