Idealism, Sacrifice and Devotion - The True Meaning of Motherhood

 

The Führerbunker on April 28, 1945

My beloved son!

By now we have been in the Führerbunker for six days already — daddy, your six little siblings and I, for the sake of giving our national socialistic lives the only possible honorable end.

You shall know that I stayed here against daddy's will, and that even on last Sunday the Führer wanted to help me to get out. You know your mother — we have the same blood, for me there was no wavering.

Our glorious idea is ruined and with it everything beautiful and marvelous that I have known in my life.  The world that comes after the Führer and national socialism is not any longer worth living in and therefore I took the children with me, for they are too good for the life that would follow, and a merciful God will understand me when I will give them salvation (death).

You will live and I ask only one thing form you, that you never ever forget you are a German, never do against your honor, and through your life, see that our deaths won't be in vain.

The children are wonderful ... there never is a word of complaint nor crying. The explosions above are shaking the bunker. The elder kids cover the younger ones, their presence is a blessing and they are making the Führer smile once in a while.

Last night, the Führer took off his golden party pin and pinned it to me. I am proud and happy.

May God help that I have the strength to perform the last and hardest task (killing herself and her children).   We only have one goal left: loyalty to the Führer even in death and to be able to end our lives with him is an honor.

Harald, my dear son — I want to give you what I learned in life: Be loyal! Loyal to yourself, loyal to the German people and loyal to your fatherland ... Be proud of us and try to keep us in dear memory ...

(Second page)  It is difficult to start a new page, who knows if I can fill it, I would like to give you so much love and strength, and take away all the pain for our loss. Be proud of us and try to remember us with pride and happiness.

We all have to die.  Isn't it more beautiful to live less, but with honor and dignity than to have a long life in shameful conditions? 

I must finish, Hanna Reitsch is taking this letter, she is leaving again, I embrace you with my most sweet, deep and maternal love. 

My dear son, live for Germany! 

Your Mother 

Magda Goebbels

Evola's Farewell

 EVOLA'S FAREWELL 

By 

Andriano Romualdi

“Anyone who went to Evola to meet an enlightened man, a prophet, or to hear sentences and enigmatic mottos, would be disappointed. Just as anyone greedy for precious, refined, or, in any case, unusual attitudes would be. They would only find a gentleman whose hair is yet to whiten, whose figure –– despite its forced immobility –– is still imposing, a gentleman whose traits are distinguished and affable, whose face is curious, smart, attentive.(They would find) a guru, an aristocrat, and, almost, in compliance with a certain ancién regime finesse of manners, the figure of an eighteenth-century philosopher and traveler. And yet, with a little observation they could notice that that attentive expression is the spy of a perpetual vigilance, of a personality that watches over herself with constant discipline, «sleep-deprived intellectual nature» This discipline transpires from some details, from the rigid partition of the days, from the commitment to make, hour by hour, «that which has to be done». At whatever cost, maybe even a few hours after a major operation, on a hospital bed, in impossible conditions. This is a way of gaining, day after day, a glimpse of eternity, of giving every occupation, even the most modest, a character of completeness, of «making the fragment whole and the bent straight». It's the way described in “Ride the Tiger” «Measuring oneself in a contemplation οf death, living every day as if it were the last, and the magnetic orientation to be induced in one's own being, which [...] will not fail to emerge at the right moment, in order to carry one beyond.»

Some elements for the curiosity of the visitor: the room on the top floor in a building in Rome, where the noise of traffic is muffled; the youth paintings, with their bright colors, hanged on the walls; some oriental statuettes; the housekeeper, with whom Evola speaks German. There aren't many photos of Evola. His family ties are inexistent. One could say of him what Porphirius wrote of Plotinus:«Of his origin, of his relatives, he didn't like to speak: nor did he ever let a painter take a portrait of him, almost as if he was ashamed of having a body» A subtle, yet constant vein of visitors passes by Evola, almost every day, as without skimming him. If Evola had such vanities, he could have his good set of disciples around him, calling him «maestro». But this title, that is often given to him, he rejects, politely yet firmly. And nobody was ever authorized by Evola to consider himself his «disciple» –– not even myself. For the fire of the zealots and the enthusiasts, Evola has always ready a bucket of cold water, some of that irony that is always present in his conversations. Once, when he heard of a group of his zealots that dedicated Mondays to the reading of Men Among the Ruins, Wednesdays to that of Revolt and Fridays to that of Ride the Tiger, he interrupted them by asking maliciously «And which day do they dedicate to the Metaphysics of Sex?» Nevertheless, despite shying away from the «cenacle» formula, Evola exerts an influence over all those who come in contact with him. An indirect influence, that manifests itself with an aura of seriousness, of objectivity, of distance, which is hard not to be struck by. He once wrote about “guests of stone”, those who are here but belong to other worlds. It's not the last of his merits that of having made such a commitment out of directing those that must live here and now, while his interests gravitate rather towards vaster, colder regions. Evola's loneliness is grand, but in this loneliness there's so much certainty, so much authenticity that it is hard not to be fascinated by it. It's one of the few authentic things that remain in these days in which even nonconformism has become a trend. «If Tartuffe came back to life, he would be against Evola»: someone said some years ago. Of course, Evola's ideas are such to anger the livid Tartuffes of antifascism while at the same time perplexing the Tartuffes of the priggish right. And this is precisely a good reason to make them known. It would be truly unforgivable to miss out on the satisfaction of attracting simultaneously the incomprehension of the dull and the wrath of the imbeciles. But it would be even more unforgivable to leave unutilized those teachings that Evola imparted us and that, if critically reconsidered, might constitute the ideal buttresses of a political Right.”

(Translated in English by Cimosco)

The Athenian House of The Unconquered Sun

A few photos of Iliou Melathron (Palace of Ilion).A neoclassical jewel in the heart of Athens. Formely the house of the architect Henrich Schliemann now turned as numismatic museum. Photos taken in the early morning of 20th of April

More info about Henrich Schliemann HERE

More info about the building HERE