Louis Ferdinand Cline An Anarcho-Nationalist

By Tomislav Sunic

In his imaginary self-portrayal, the French novelist Louis-Ferdinand Cline (18941961) would
be the first one to reject the assigned label of anarcho-nationalism. For that matter he would
reject any outsiders label whatsoever regarding his prose and his personality. He was an
anticommunist, but also an anti-liberal. He was an anti-Semite but also an anti-Christian. He
despised the Left and the Right. He rejected all dogmas and all beliefs, and worse, he submitted
all academic standards and value systems to brutal derision.
Briefly, Cline defies any scholarly or civic categorization. As a classy trademark of the French
literary life, he is still considered the finest French author of modernity despite the fact that
his literary opus rejects any academic classification. Even though his novels are part and parcel
of the obligatory literature in the French high school syllabus and even though he has been the
subject of dozens of doctoral dissertations, let alone thousands of polemics denouncing him as
the most virulent Jew-baiting pamphleteer of the 20th century, he continues to be an oddity
eluding any analysis, yet commanding respect across the political and academic spectrum.
Can one offer a suggestion that those who will best grasp L.F. Cline must also be his lookalikes
the replicas of his nihilist character, his Gallic temperament and his unsurpassable command
of the language?
Cadaverous Schools for Communist and Liberal Massacres
The trouble with L.F. Cline is that although he is widely acclaimed by literary critics as the
most unique French author of the 20th century and despite the fact that a good dozen of his
novels are readily available in any book store in France, his two anti-Semitic pamphlets are
officially off limits there.
Firstly, the word pamphlet is false. His two books, Bagatelles pour un massacre (1937) and
Ecole des cadavres (1938), although legally and academically rebuked as fascist anti-Semitic
pamphlets, are more in line with the social satire of the 15th century French Rabelaisian
tradition, full of fun and love making than modern political polemics about the Jewry. After so
many years of hibernation, the satire Bagatelles finally appeared in an anonymous American
translation under the title of Trifles for a massacre, and can be accessed online.
The anonymous translator must be commended for his awesome knowledge of French linguistic
nuances and his skill in transposing French argot into American slang. Unlike the German or the
English language, the French language is a highly contextual idiom, forbidding any compound
nouns or neologisms. Only Cline had a license to craft new words in French. French is a
language of high precision, but also of great ambiguities. Moreover, any rendering of the
difficult Clines slangish satire into English requires from a translator not just the perfect
knowledge of French, but also the perfect knowledge of Clines world.
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Certainly, H.L. Menckens temperament and his sentence structure sometimes carry a whiff of
Cline. Ezra Pounds toying with English words in his radio broadcasts in fascist Italy also
remind a bit of Clines style. The rhythm ofHarold Covingtons narrative and the violence of
his epithets may remind one a wee of Celines prose too.
But in no way can one draw a parallel between Cline and other authors be it in style or in
substance. Cline is both politically and artistically unique. His language and his meta-langue are
unparalleled in modern literature.
To be sure Cline is very bad news for Puritan ears or for a do-good conservative who will be
instantly repelled by Clines vocabulary teeming as it does with the overkill of metaphorical
Jewish dicks and pricks.
Trifles is not just a satire. It is the most important social treatise for the understanding of the
prewar Europe and the coming endtimes of postmodernity. It is not just a passion play of a man
who gives free reign to his emotional outbursts against the myths of his time, but also a visionary
premonition of coming social and cultural upheavals in the unfolding 21st century. It is an
unavoidable literature for any White in search of his heritage.
These werent Hymie jewelers, these were vicious lowlifes, they ate rats together
They were as flat as flounders. They had just left their ghettos, from the depths of
Estonia, Croatia, Wallachia, Rumelia, and the sties of Bessarabia The Jews, they
now frequent the guardhouse, they are no longer outside When it comes to
crookedness, it is they who take first place All of this takes place under the
hydrant! with hoses as thick as dicks! beside the yellow waters of the docks
enough to sink all the ships in the worldin a dcor fit for phantomswith a kiss
thatll cut your ass clean openthatll turn you inside out.
The satire opens up with imaginary dialogue with the fictional Jew Gutman regarding the role of
artistry by the Jews in the French Third Republic, followed by brief chapters describing Clines
voyage to the Soviet Union.
Between noon and midnight, I was accompanied everywhere by an interpreter
(connected with the police). I paid for the whole deal Her name was Natalie, and
she was by the way very well mannered, and by my faith a very pretty blonde, a
completely vibrant devotee of Communism, proselytizing you to death, should that
be necessary Completely serious moreovertry not to think of things! and of
being spied upon! nom de Dieu!
The misery that I saw in Russia is scarcely to be imagined, Asiatic, Dostoevskiian,
a Gehenna of mildew, pickled herring, cucumbers, and informants The Judaized
Russian is a natural-born jailer, a Chinaman who has missed his calling, a torturer,
the perfect master of lackeys. The rejects of Asia, the rejects of Africa They were
just made to marry one another Its the most excellent coupling to be sent out to
us from the Hells.
When the satire was first published in 1937, rare were European intellectuals who had not
already fallen under the spell of communist lullabies. Cline, as an endless heretic and a good
observer refused to be taken for a ride by communist commissars. He is a master of discourse in

depicting communist phenotypes, and in his capacity of a medical doctor he delves constantly
into Jewish self-perception of their physique and their genitalia.
The peculiar feature of Cline narrative is the flood of slang expressions and his extraordinary
gift for cracking jokes full of obscene humors, which suddenly veer off in academic passages full
of empirical data on Jews, liberals, communists, nationalists, Hitlerites and the whole panoply of
famed European characters.
But here we accept this, the boogie-woogie of the doctors, of the worst
hallucinogenic negrito Jews, as being worth good money! Incredible! The very
least diploma, the very least new magic charm, makes the negroid delirious, and
makes all of the negroid Jews flush with pride! This is something that everybody
knows It has been the same way with our own Kikes ever since their Buddha
Freud delivered unto them the keys to the soul!
Mortal Voyage to Endtimes
In the modern academic establishment Cline is still widely discussed and his first novels
Journey to the End of the Night and Death on the Installment Plan are still used as
Bildungsroman for the modern culture of youth rebellion. When these two novels were first
published in the early 30s of the twentieth century, the European leftist cultural establishment
made a quick move to recuperate Cline as of one of its own. Cline balked. More than any other
author his abhorrence of the European high bourgeoisie could not eclipse his profound hatred of
leftist mimicry.
Neither does he spare leftists scribes, nor does he show mercy for the spirit of Parisianism.
Unsurpassable in style and graphics are Clines savaging caricatures of aged Parisian bourgeois
bimbos posturing with false teeth and fake tits in quest of a rich mans ride. Had Cline pandered
to the leftists, he would have become very rich; he would have been awarded a Nobel Prize long
ago.
In the late 50s the bourgeoning hippie movement on the American West Coast also tried to lump
him together with its godfather Jack Kerouac, who was himself enthralled with Clines work.
However, any modest reference to hisBagatelles or Ecole des Cadavres has always carefully
been skipped over or never mentioned. Equally hushed up is Clines last year of WWII when,
unlike hundreds of European nationalist scholars, artists and novelists, he miraculously escaped
French communist firing squads or the Allied gallows.
His endless journey to the end of the night envisioned no beams of sunshine on the European
horizon. In fact, his endless trip took a nasty turn in the late 1944 and early 1945, when Cline,
along with thousands of European nationalist intellectuals, including the remnants of the French
pro-German collaborationist government fled to southern Germany, a country still holding firm
in face of the oncoming disaster. The whole of Europe had been already set ablaze by
death-spitting American B17s from above and raping Soviet soldiers emerging in the East.
These judgment day scenes are depicted in his postwar novels Dun chteau lautre (Castle to
Castle) and Rigodoon.
Clines sentences are now more elliptic and the action in his novels becomes more dynamic and
more revealing of the unfolding European drama. His novels offer us a surreal gallery of

characters running and hiding in the ruins of Germany. One encounters former French high
politicians and countless artists facing death people who, just a year ago, dreamt that they
would last forever. No single piece of European literature is as vivid in the portrayal of human
fickleness on the edge of life and death as are these last of Clines novels.
But Clines inveterate pessimism is always couched in self-derision and always stung with
black humor. Even when sentenced in absentia during his exile inDenmark, he never lapses into
self pity or cheap sentimentalism. His code of honor and his political views have not changed a
bit from his first novel.
Upon his return to France in 1951, the remaining years of Clines life were marred by legal
harassment, literary ostracism, and poverty. Along with hundreds of thousands Frenchmen he
was subjected to public rebuke that still continues to shape the intellectual scene in France.
Today, however, this literary ostracism against free spirits is wrapped up in stringent anti-hate
laws enforced by the thought police 70 years after WWII! Stripped of all his belongings,
Cline, until his death, continued to use his training as a physician to provide medical help to his
equally disfranchised suburban countrymen. Always free of charge and always remaining a
frugal and modest man.