The Twentieth Century Begins by Jack Heart & Orage
This is the second chapter from The Century of the Magicians by Jack Heart & Orage, an unfinished work that will be their Magnum opus...
Note: Again, “lots of people talking but few of them know.” Everywhere in the West one looks they see faggots. They are in schools groping five-year-old children and grooming them for a life of decadence. They smirk at us from our television screens and have turned the BBC and CNN into electric closet queens. They mock us as they periotte down Seventh Avenue in New York City, exposing themselves under their rainbow flag in parades that pay homage to their own depravity. They are entrenched in the halls of power and lisp their perverted instructions to their subordinates as the West slowly dies from their syphilitic infection. They even adorn the cover of Playboy Magazine
God faring Christians, Muslims and Jews, fools of course there are many gods and now they are finding that out the hard way, wonder where this all came from. It did not happen overnight. The man who shaped the geopolitical landscape for the twentieth century and founded modern Synarchism, as defined by Alexandre Saint-Yves d'Alveydre, was a flaming faggot. It wasn’t till I was contacted in the latter part of 2021by Sean Stone, Olivers son and a Rhodes scholar himself, and asked to collaborate on a graphic novel featuring the occult forces that led to WW I that I found out just who Cecil Rhodes was.
Since history doesn’t sell our novel is of course fiction but it is being written with the same meticulous research that made us the go to guys for the heir to the throne of Hollywood. Carroll Quigley is an excellent source, although some of his best stuff has been made to disappear from public record. ‘Cecil Rhodes and His Warmongering Buggery Hegemony,’ is an excellent synopsis of the secrets Quigley revealed but there were other sources used by Orage and I. I have written much more than this, but Rhodes would never live to see Aleister Crowley commandeer his legacy, to read the rest of what we got so far you’ll have to subscribe. - Jack
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From the veranda of the Grand Hotel Cecil Rhodes looked out upon the besieged city. With forty thousand well-heeled inhabitants and the Blacks who served them Kimberly was the most cosmopolitan city in South Africa. It had an imposing new town hall and a bustling night life that rivaled London itself. Rhodes liked to think of it as his city. Projectiles from the Boers state of the art French fifteen pounders were now pummeling it, exploding overhead, smashing store fronts, and cratering the streets. The city garrisons dated seven-pound British mountain guns did not have the range to return fire, but Rhodes would fix that.
He turned to the man standing next to him; Lieutenant Colonel Robert Kekewich, commander of the sixteen-hundred-man garrison defending the city. He looked at him with disgust and in an imperious tone said, “would you make yourself useful for a change and fetch me Labram.” George Labram was the greatest engineer of his day; Rhodes had imported him from America to build the Kimberly diamond mine. Labram had already built an underground refrigeration unit to store beef for the siege, an armored train, and personally supervised the construction of the citi’s impregnable fortifications. Kekewich grudgingly complied. Now Labram would build Rhodes his own long range artillery piece using scavenged mining equipment.
The gun was completed, over Kekewich’s strenuous objections, in twenty-four days. Kekewich did not want to further antagonize the Boers. He knew they didn’t have the men it would cost to sack the city and the only thing that would cause them to try was Rhodes being in it. When the gun was rolled out, loaded, and sighted on the Dutch position Kekewich’s artillery officer refused to fire it on the grounds that it could quite possibly blow up in his face. Rhodes scoffed at him, telling him to get behind the women and children and summoned his dead lover, Neville Pickering’s sister to fire the gun. She did and they all cheered when they heard the twenty-five-pound shell explode on the Dutch position fifteen seconds later.
The gun was christened Long Cecil and for eighteen days it rained unanswered destruction on the Boers. But unfortunately for the British, particularly Labram, as Kekewich had suspected the Boers had bigger guns in reserve. By the eighteenth day Long Tom, a state of the art hundred-pound French gun was in place and the hapless residents of Kimberly were forced to take refuge in the bowels of the diamond mine from its terrible wrath. A shell from Long Tom pierced the room Labram was staying in at the Grand Hotel and blew him to pieces.
Rhodes had arrived in Kimberly by train hours before the Boers cut the track and commenced shelling it. With him was the only man he had ever admired; William Stead. There was no fanfare as they got off the train. Nobody wanted them there, least of all Kekewich. But as Rhodes and Stead disembarked from the train, with them came the new British Empire. Rhodes was its king and Stead; the very embodiment of John Bull and the voice of Rhodes subjects.
Rhodes had been born outside of London to a family of modest means and sent to South Africa at eighteen to improve his health and perhaps cure his growingly flamboyant homosexuality. There he had prospered in the burgeoning diamond industry enough to return to England and attend Oxford. At Oxford he was initiated into the Apollo University Lodge, and made his first acquaintance with Luciferianism as practiced generationally by the British aristocracy. Rhodes returned to Africa flush with Rothschild cash and the ethics of an ally cat. He paid to have water pumping stations vital to mining operations sabotaged and colluded with his new found friends in the aristocracy to crash the price of diamonds back in London. He then bought everyone’s claims at rock bottom prices and fixed the problems he had created with a telegram. Soon he owned everything and sat atop the greatest fortune the world had ever seen. Which he had vowed along with Stead and a few very select others, to use for the propagation one global Anglo Saxon civilization.
Stead who had started life with little, but the courage of a lion was now the very word of god in the British press. It’d been that way since he had dared to confront Victorian society with the scandal of child prostitution in an outspoken article in the Pall Mall Gazette in 1885. The details from his graphic exposé of child abuse in London brothels shocked Victorian society. The underworld of criminal abduction, entrapment and ‘sale’ of young girls from under-privileged backgrounds was detailed in a series of ‘infernal narratives’, as Stead himself described them. These painted a horrendous picture of padded cells where upper-class paedophiles safely conducted their evil practices on children. London society was thrown into a state of moral panic, and, as a consequence, the government was forced to pass the Criminal Law Amendment Act. Stead had spent three months in prison for his investigative techniques but now kings and queens bowed down before him. He was Rhodes closest friend and a charter member of the secret society Roads had created to insure the British Empires hegemony in the world to come.
Nobody wanted Rhodes in Kimberly except perhaps Paul Kruger the leader of the Boers who had promised his people to parade Rhodes up and down the streets of their cities in a lion cage. Rhodes had mercilessly provoked the Boers even launching a commando raid against them unauthorized by Queen Victoria’s government in England. For his role in the Jameson Raid Rhodes brother; Colonel Frank Rhodes had been sentenced to death for high treason but of course the sentence was never carried out. Rhodes himself lost his position as Prime Minister of the Cape Colony but what did that matter when he owned the Kimberley diamond mine and most of South Africa too.
Boer means farmer. Due to the gold that saturated their land, sandwiched in between British territories, the Boers had gone from being wandering herders and subsistence farmers to filthy rich in twenty years. But they had been fighting for over two hundred years, first the Dutch East India Company who brought them there as indentured servants, then the British. The staunch Dutch Calvinists, anarchists at heart, had moved relentlessly into the African interior to get away from governments. Wealthy beyond their wildest dreams in less than a generation the frugal Dutchmen had invested wisely in the latest German rifles and French field artillery.
Rhodes was now determined to take their gold by force and build a railway from Cape Town to Cairo on British territory he himself had pirated. The Orange Free State and Transvaal, as the Boers called their respective countries, were in his way. Rhodes who theatrically abhorred the Boer practice of preying on the indigenous Blacks and brutally enslaving them was far more subtle as he took from them everything they owned. In public he called them barbaric and uncivilized. He said this made them unfit to participate in government and they were to be treated as children. In private he called them niggers and appropriated huge swaths of their land for himself.
Regardless of all the bad things he was Rhodes was no coward. He had once accompanied only by two local officials walked into the Ndebele stronghold in Matobo Hills to negotiate the terms of their surrender after personally seeing to it that half the tribe was slaughtered. He was in Kimberley at great risk to his own life because once the British army assembled in South Africa it would be in overwhelming force. The tactical temptation would be to just sack the two Boer capitals then worry about relieving Kimberley. Now, especially with the Boers raining hundred-pound bombs down on him and Stead; his puppet, the Prince of Wales, would pressure Earl Roberts the British Field Marshall to relieve Kimberley first and foremost at all costs. Which is exactly what Roberts would end up doing.
Pleased with himself Rhodes descended into the bowels of the mine followed closely by Stead. They left the crowd sheltering from the wrath of Long Tom far behind as they descended into the darkness. Using his lamp Rhodes made his way to a hidden shaft that led to a vault. When he opened the vault he shone his light on a golf ball sized rock on the floor of the small room. It was black, perfectly black, and otherwise nondescript except for the strange heat it gave off, like a miniature sun, a miniature black sun.
He adjusted the light of the lamp so he and Stead could look each other in the face and with madness in his eyes he said, “this was found in a country called Mashonaland, it’s the territory between the Limpopo River and the Zambezi, taken from a great and ancient stone city the Portuguese called Symbaoe. All across Mashonaland wandering hunters have found ancient mines, groves of lemon trees, pomegranates, things unseen in Africa and each new discovery supports the biblical legend. Mashonaland is the lost kingdom of Ophia, the site of King Solomons mines, the source of the Queen of Sheba’s riches.” (9)
Stead stooped down to pick up the stone but was shocked to find he couldn’t budge it. It was cool to the touch, and he wondered how it could give off the heat of a good sized camp fire. Before he could ask any questions Rhodes continued, “James Bent and Robert Swan found it on an expedition to Symbaoe I funded through the Royal Geographical Society. It took a team of forty oxen and all Labram’s skills to get it here. He estimated it weighs close to fifty tons. Of all people the Germans, who are secretly backing the Boers, must never get their hands on it. Within the Thule society, which is the upper echelons of German Free Masonry, there exists a secret order of Knights Templar who are its rightful guardians. It’s said it was given to them by the goddess herself in the thirteenth century to hold through the ages till the final battle between darkness and light when its secrets will be revealed to tip the scales in favor of light. But it was taken from its place of concealment on the Untersberg Mountain by a malevolent priesthood who have wandered the earth since the days of Sumer murdering whole civilizations to feed their demon gods. No one from the Brotherhood knows I found it. Labram is dead now. Swan is a mining expert not an archeologist, he doesn’t even know of its existence. We had to be rid of Bent after he published the book about Mashonaland.”
Stead was visibly taken aback. He knew his friend was capable of the most cavalier of slaughter of whole races of men, but Rhodes had always rationalized that he was serving man and that his enemies, whether they be Black primitives or Dutch farmers, were the enemy of man. Bent was perhaps the greatest anthropologist of the Victorian era and a prolific writer as well. He was no one’s enemy. Appalled Stead said, “I thought he died of malaria upon return from expedition?” Rhodes answered him evasively, “the heat from the stone has some kind of rejuvenating effect on my heart, I was given six months to live almost ten years ago. Periodic bathing in its heat has prolonged my life but I fear for not much longer. In the beginning I needed absorb its heat for perhaps a half hour a week and I could swing a pickaxe with the vigor of any man in this mine. But as time goes by I must spend an hour a day with it and even then I tire quickly.
I will die soon, and you and Milner must take over for me. Esher is a madman and Rothschilds Jewish greed clouds his judgement. They will never be more than adepts. You and Milner will be the hidden Masters. I learned much at the Apollo Lodge and I learned more from people like Bent. I have much to tell you and little time to do it. Like George Smith Bent wrote to many books to be trusted with secrets men were never meant to know. In Germany the same fate befell Nitzsche, its recorded in a thinly disguised allegory in Brother of the Third Degree. The old gods, unlike Jesus, Muhammad and Buddha, are very real my friend. They can be conjured forth by blood sacrifice, eroticism, or both, and by various rites of asceticism. It’s not like they are eager to recite their history to beings they consider as we consider animals, but some things have been worked out. You do remember George Smith don’t you Stead?” Feeling appalled Stead answered him, “yes, he was that Assyriologist started the whole Pan Babylonian movement on the continent thirty years ago when he translated the Epic of Gilgamesh and found the flood story from the bible had been plagiarized practically verbatim from it. A brilliant young man, one of England’s finest, he died tragically on expedition, so young, imagine what he could have achieved.” Rhodes answered with a sigh, “that’s just it. The livestock has no need of the farmers resume and the farmer is not about to give them one. Considering who you are you should know better than anyone there are things you can say and things you can never say.
Bent also found an inscription at Symbaoe, the same as the one Smith found in Asyria that led to his sudden demise. I had Smith’s colleague Sir Henry Rawlinson translate it just to be certain. It’s a part that seems to have been omitted from the Epic of Gilgamesh, about the aftermath of the flood. In Smiths translation Ishtar curses Enlil on her magical necklace, barring him from the sacrificial fire but no response from Enlil is recorded. The tablet Bent found says Enlil retaliates by cursing Ishtar and six of the other Anunnaki by this very same black stone we have here. The seven are cursed to wander the earth as humans until the end of time. It goes a little further too. It’s a prophecy. It says time will end when Marduk, who is not bound to earth, returns to recover the black stone and to take vengeance upon Enlil.
Stead spoke thoughtfully, “vengeance, it sounds like Egypt’s Horus the Avenger, what Albert Pike was preaching to the American lodges.” The black stone was inducing a kind of quickening in Rhodes mind as well as rejuvenating his dying heart. Always one for long soliloquys he began, “yes, yes Pike, that American caveman. What an ally he would have made, a veritable prophet of the new world. He saw clearly that giving niggers the right to vote was tantamount to racial suicide. The niggers are children of Oloddumare, their name for the goddess. They are wild things of the forest and veldt and have no place in the White man’s world. It was wrong to bring them in bondage to the Americas but that was the popes decision not ours. We freed them seventy-five years ago but only a madman would give them the right to vote. They should be treated decently but always kept at arm’s length. Giving them the vote is like giving a loaded gun to a baboon.
Pike was well aware that it is the destiny of America to rejoin England and rule the world side by side with her, but he thought it could be done state by state. One has to admire him for his unquestionable courage and intellect but the Scottish Rites he so loved is the haven of pompous fools. I dare say the Egypt of Scottish Rites never even existed. The Pharaonic dynasties are as contrived as the word Pharaoh itself. There were no Pharaoh’s in Egypt. The Pharaoh is an invention of the bible, and the bible never mentions anything about there being pyramids and a sphinx in Egypt. Their an enigma, the original structures were there before the current epoch and buried by the sands of time. What Colonel Vyse did was unconscionable, blowing holes in them and painting graffiti in the chambers, Khufu indeed. Charles Piazzi Smyth knew exactly where those Queens chamber shafts would be. Grant and Dixon were operating on his instruction. Those were the original shafts; someone’s refaced that pyramid to something far more grandiose than it was and added the kings chamber shafts. Labram always said they used a limestone-based cement and for some reason or another went right over the queens chamber shafts. Could have been Khufu I suppose but it could just as well have been the French. They built a lovely pyramid in Holland.
There is a sickness in England, a plague spread by morons like Sir Flinders Petrie. It is not enough for them that England should rule the world, but we must also be the lost tribe of Israel, have built the pyramids, and our royalty be the direct descendants of Jesus. We will labor under no such illusions. The bible is a collection of stories taken out of Babylon and Sumer, where civilization really began, and Jesus is a compendium of sun gods throughout the ages with a little Gnosticism tossed in for flavor. If the fools that believe this sort of contrived nonsense ever saw what went on at Oxford in private at the Apollo Lodge they would never sleep again, or take their eyes off their children. The power of the church lay not in that book but in its mass. Yes Stead; Isis, Horus and Set. That is what IHS stands for. But we can go back and open doors that were shut even before Egypt, I have the keys not them and I am entrusting them with you.”
Soon after a force of forty thousand crack British troops, including ten thousand cavalrymen, the largest cavalry force ever mustered by the British empire, smashed through the Boer lines and relieved Kimberly. It was the empires first offensive action of the second Boer war and the cost in men and horses was appalling but Cecil Rhodes got his way. The war in South Africa would finally end in early June of 1902 when the Treaty of Vereeniging was signed in Pretoria. The Orange Free State and the Transvaal were annexed leaving Great Britain as the undisputed master of South Africa and all its riches. By then Rhodes had been dead for two months.
9 - "Rhodes, The Life & Legend of Cecil Rhodes Ep.3 (24:00)." YouTube. British Broadcasting Corporation, 1996. Web.
So, Ron DeSantis is another gift from Cicil Rhodes, himself the British Empires gift to the world that just keeps on giving https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zEvZ3EzFXAk