I've just bought Hertfordshire, you know

I am a man of multiple interests: a senator,
military man, businessman, I undertake

trading missions for the government ,
and I'm a landowner,

I've just bought Hertfordshire, you know.

B. Evaristo, The Emperor's babe (2001), 15-16

The Kindly Ones is simply “Houellebecq does Nazism.”

Well-intentioned friends send me everything they can find about Jonathan Littell, and I am yet again forced to return to the subject. Things are not going well at all. I have just read the account of a speech he gave at a Normale Supérieure school, where he said: “Evil is committed by people like us, people who sleep, who shit, who fuck, and who have the same relationship as we do to the body and to the fear of death, with thought coming afterwards. All killers are like us.”

Fair enough. In fact, I agree completely. Here again is Hannah Arendt’s thesis, and here, again, I cannot deny its truth. But it is a very strange speech to justify his book, precisely because Littell seems to have done his utmost to invent the most singular character possible. Let us recall, for those few unfortunates who have not been able to read The Kindly Ones, that the SS veteran Aue is an intellectual who sleeps with his sister, kills his parents, actively participates in genocide, sucks off Robert Brasillach, survives a bullet in the head, is never separated from his Flaubert, and enjoys rolling in his shit from time to time. For a guy who is just like you and me, that is quite a list!

...

A poster on an Internet forum expresses the opinion that Max Aue [the protagonist in Jonathan Littel's The Kindly ones] “rings true because he is the mirror of his age.” What? No! He rings true (for certain, easily duped readers) because he is the mirror of our age: a postmodern nihilist, essentially. At no moment in the novel is it suggested that this character believes in Nazism. On the contrary, he is often critically detached from National Socialist doctrine — and in that sense, he can hardly be said to reflect the delirious fanaticism prevalent in his time. On the other hand, this detachment, this blasé attitude toward everything, this permanent malaise, this taste for philosophizing, this unspoken amorality, this morose sadism, and this terrible sexual frustration that constantly twists his guts… but of course! How did I not see it before? Suddenly, everything is clear. The Kindly Ones is simply “Houellebecq does Nazism.”

L. Binet, HhhH (2009), tr. S. Taylor (2012), unknown & 204

These both from the pages originally missing from Binet's text - and then put back in. They're here. I couldn't be bothered to re-find the first one, but it accurately reflects my view at the time of Littell's novel - i.e., it completely fails in it's stated purpose by making the protagonist so weird. 

Sport? What a load of fascist rubbish it is

Reading Heydrich's speech, I have three comments:

1. In the Czech state, as elsewhere, the feeblest defender of the values of the national education is the responsible minister . Having been a virulent anti-Nazi, Emmanuel Moravec became, after Munich, the most active collaborator in Hedrich's Czech government an the Germans' preferred Czech representative - much more so than senile old President Hácha. Local history books tend to call him 'the Czech Quisling'.
2. The staunchest defenders of the values of national education are teachers because, whatever we might otherwise think of them, they have the authority and the will be subversive. And they deserve praise for that.
3. Sport? What a load of fascist rubbish it is.

L. Binet, HhhH (2009), tr. S. Taylor (2012), 168

This is a terrible analysis. Sport and Education are potent, that's why they come under pressure. It's particularly weird though to look at sport in a Nazi context that way when the most famous sporting incident in Nazi Germany is the failure of ideological outcomes in the 1936 Olympics. One presumes that Binet, like me, was very bad at sport at school.

Vile Chamberlain, a man whose spinelessness is equalled only by his blindness.

Unfortunately, it is not yet Churchill who guides the destiny of Britain and the world, but the vile Chamberlain, a man whose spinelessness is equalled only by his blindness.

L. Binet, HhhH (2009), tr. S. Taylor (2012), 93

The very foundations of his fortune are laid deep in sacrilege, fortunes built out of deserted shrines and pillaged altars

The Duke of Devonshire issues a circular applying for subscriptions to oppose this Bill, and he charges us with robbery of God. Does he know – of course he knows – that the very foundations of his fortune are laid deep in sacrilege, fortunes built out of deserted shrines and pillaged altars . . . What is their story? Look at the whole story of the pillage of the Reformation. They robbed the Catholic Church, they robbed the monasteries, they robbed the altars, they robbed the almshouses, they robbed the poor and they robbed the dead. Then they come here when we are trying to seek at any rate to recover some part of this pillaged property for the poor for whom it was originally given, and they venture, with hands dripping with the fat of sacrilege, to accuse us of robbery of God.

D. Lloyd-George, debate on the Welsh Disestablishment Bill, May 1912, cited in G. Dangerfield, The strange death of liberal England (1936), 255

The millstones of Capital and Labour, the upper and the nether, grind slowly but exceeding small

And Liberalism . . . Liberalism, with its fatal trust in compromise, had evaded the issue onc e again. But, slide and wriggle as it would, there was a doom which it could not evade. The millstones of Capital and Labour, the upper and the nether, grind slowly but exceeding small, and Liberalism was caught between them. It might put off the evil hour, poor slippery old faith, but they would crush it in the end.

G. Dangerfield, The strange death of liberal England (1936), 244

Something must certainly be done for them: not too much, of course, that would never do; but something

For Liberalism, after all, implies rather more than a political creed or an economic philosophy; it is a profoundly conscience-stricken state of mind. It is the final expression of everything which is respectable, God-fearing and frightened. The poor, it says, are always with us, and something must certainly be done for them: not too much, of course, that would never do; but something. The poor might reasonably be expected to have their own opinions about this; and, indeed, in certain periods of the Victorian era they gave vent to these opinions in a most disconcerting manner. But they, too, had been infected with the same disease. ‘Several toasts were given’ (so writes an observer of a workmen’s dinner during the prolonged erection, in the ’70s, of the Albert Memorial) ‘and many of the workmen spoke, almost all of them commencing by “Thanking God that they enjoyed good health”; some alluded to the temperance that prevailed amongst them, others observed how little swearing was ever heard, whilst all said how pleased and proud they were to be engaged on so great a work.’ (Lytton Strachey, Queen Victoria, p. 324.)

G. Dangerfield, The strange death of liberal England (1936), 181

Their methods were bad and mistaken; but their ultimate motives shine, as a lamp shines through a fog

But that is the truth. Mrs Pankhurst, her daughters and her colleagues – for all their extravagances – are among the makers of history; they were fighting their way out of death into life; and what they did had to be done. They submitted to the outrageous handling of policemen and toughs as early Christians once submitted to the lions. It is true that, if we were to meet some of those early Christians today, we should not choose them for a quiet drink in the bar or a cosy talk over the fireside. They were doubtless an unlikely collection of human beings. But the state of Roman civilization made them essential, and by their deaths they saved the world from heaven alone knows what moral ruin. The suffragettes were, in their way, equally unlikely and uncompanionable; yet they assisted woman no little way towards the rediscovery of the place which was really hers in the world. Their methods were bad and mistaken; but their ultimate motives shine, as a lamp shines through a fog. And, before they are subjected to the unkindly processes of narrative, one would like to pause here and do them honour.

G. Dangerfield, The strange death of liberal England (1936), 135-6

He was less a Liberal than a Welshman on the loose

He was less a Liberal than a Welshman on the loose. He wanted the poor to inherit the earth, particularly if it was the earth of rich English landlords; and he wanted this with a sly, semi-educated passion which struck his parliamentary colleagues as being in very bad form. 

The Boer War first brought him into prominence. He fought against it tooth and nail and became generally hated as a leading pro-Boer – until the sad and sanguinary farce was over, when he was suddenly recognized as a man of vision. 

G. Dangerfield, The strange death of liberal England (1936), 31

The House of Lords was extremely conservative, quite stupid, immensely powerful and a determined enemy of the Liberal Party

By 1910, the Liberals had reached a point where they could no longer advance; before them stood a barrier of Capital which they dared not attack. Behind them stood the House of Lords. In its political aspect, the House of Lords was extremely conservative, quite stupid, immensely powerful and a determined enemy of the Liberal Party.

...

In 1700 it was a little assembly of great nobles, jealous, stubborn, and perverse; in 1801, through a lavish creation of peerages, it had come to represent the opulent and landed classes. In this way the bribery of George III and the vision of William Pitt had worked to a common end. The Crown was well rid of an obstinate and capricious enemy; the Constitution had gained its first distinctly conservative element. For the Lords never again demonstrated any desire for change. They fought the Whig Reform Bill in 1832; they killed the Liberal Home Rule Bill in 1884.

G. Dangerfield, The strange death of liberal England (1936), 23 & 25

He was strongly in favour of peace – that is to say, he liked his wars to be fought at a distance and, if possible, in the name of God

Whatever his political convictions may have been, the Englishman of the ’70s and ’80s was something of a Liberal at heart. He believed in freedom, free trade, progress and the Seventh Commandment. He also believed in reform. He was strongly in favour of peace – that is to say, he liked his wars to be fought at a distance and, if possible, in the name of God. 

G. Dangerfield, The strange death of liberal England (1936), 22

At least there was no danger of them being exposed to anything dangerous, like an idea

Cats was also that increasing rarity, a musical that one could take children to. The tykes might die from vapidity poisoning, but at least there was no danger of them being exposed to anything dangerous, like an idea.

J. Kenrick, Musical theatre: a history (2008), 348

Evita left history to its own devices and made gobs of money

Both Sweeney and Evita were expensive productions with stunning stage direction by Harold Prince. Both won seven Tony awards, including Best Musical, in adjoining seasons. The key difference: Sweeney Todd made theatrical history but lost money, while Evita left history to its own devices and made gobs of money. This was not lost on producers and investors. It is easy to advocate artistic merit over financial concerns, but answer this: if you were investing $100,000 or more of your own money.

J. Kenrick, Musical theatre: a history (2008), 341

If you thought I was describing another show, that's understandable

The big opening chorus number had been a staple in musical theatre since Offenbach's time, with a huge chorus (preferably of females) there to grab the audience's attention. So the opening night regulars were caught off guard when a new Broadway musical began with a lone woman on stage in the middle of a busy morning. Moments later, a man came on to sing the opening number as a sole, with no ensemble in sight. The effect was fresh and charming, as was the heroine's dream ballet, where she got to choose between two suitors. No wonder Louisiana Purchase (1940, 444 performances) was a hit.

If you thought I was describing another show, that's understandable. Misinformed sources have suggested that Oklahoma! invented such features as a two-opening, a dream ballet, and (most laughably) the integration of song, dance, and dialogue. There is no question that Oklahoma! was a landmark work... but many of the seemingly "new" things in it had been brewing on Broadway for some time.

J. Kenrick, Musical theatre: a history (2008), 238 

An American cheese manufacturer convinces the government to raise tariffs on imported cheese and declare war on Switzerland

Back in 1927, the Gershwins had collaborated with George S. Kaufman on Strike up the band (1927), in which an American cheese manufacturer convinces the government to raise tariffs on imported cheese and declare war on Switzerland. He even offers to pay for the war if it is named after him. 

J. Kenrick, Musical theatre: a history (2008), 220

You know how dis ends. The horse, he wins the race, and the boy gets de girl. Now, you wanna see that, or you wanna hear Jolson sing?

In the delightful memoir All my friends (Putnam, 1989), George Burns explains how Jolson would stop a musical midscene and in Gus's pseudosouthern drawl say: "You know how dis ends. The horse, he wins the race, and the boy gets de girl. Now, you wanna see that, or you wanna hear Jolson sing?" He then sent the cast home and offered a prolonged selection of his hit songs.

J. Kenrick, Musical theatre: a history (2008), 159

But the Vatican refuses to accept this because of all the Saxons he killed

'Many people in Aachen consider him [Charlemagne] a saint,' said Stefanie, a willow-haired tour guide in the cathedral. 'They pray to him and they say miracles happened because of him. But the Vatican refuses to accept this because of all the Saxons he killed. As if all the other saints were so pure!' 

N. Jubber, Epic continent (2021), 149

He devotes fewer lines to God than to his beloved sword, Durandal

Roland makes vague references to Christianity, but he only prays at the very end of his life; and even then he devotes fewer lines to God than to his beloved sword, Durandal. Like the heroes of Germanic and Greek mythology, from Achilles to Beowulf, his true idol worldly status, measured by the blood you shed and the blood shed on your behalf.

...

With its odds and ends of ritual and relics, Rocamadour can feel like a theme park for pious Catholics... and gaze at a gleaming sword impaled in the rock face. That's what I was here for: to feast my eyes on Durandal, the French Excalibur.  

N. Jubber, Epic continent (2021), 140

A system whose latent capacity for mass travel was still far greater than its actual contribution to it

The tramways were the final links attaching Camberwell to the vast, haphazard, intricate structure of London's communications. The whole system worked like some self-regulating clearing house which permitted an almost infinite variety of journeys. It was a system nevertheless whose latent capacity for mass travel was in the 1870s still far greater than its actual contribution to it.

H.J. Dyos, Victorian Suburb: a study of the growth of Camberwell (1961), 75 

You are referring to the Immense Tyrant Without Compare

Here's the problem with Mandarin: move an inch outside your speciality, and there is no guarantee that any of the words will mean anything to you. I had been speaking Chinese for twenty years, and was in town to give a lecture on medieval history, but the strange sigils describing arcane translation nightmares, like McFlurry and McNugget, might as well have been Martian.

...

'What's that thing called,' I began wearily, 'which is very big probably the biggest thing that you have, and there are two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles and onions, all in a sesame seed bun?'

'Ah,' said the bespectacled youth before me, 'you are referring to the Immense Tyrant Without Compare (ju wu ba).'

At last, a new use for the archaic term for a Bronze Age overlord, now recognised by twenty-first-century Chinese teenagers as the word for a Big Mac. 

J. Clements, The Emperor's feast (2021), 194-5