The Grey Magician

Gray magic (also spelled magick) is magic that is not performed for specifically beneficial reasons, but is also not focused towards completely hostile practices.

It is seen as falling in a continuum between white and black magic. It is also called neutral magic

“A single shaft of light fell from the roof and illuminated a black slab of obsidian like an altar at the centre of the hall. There was a figure standing in front of the slab, silhouetted against the light. As the king’s cortege crossed the floor, their footsteps echoing back at them, the figure stretched out its arms in greeting and stepped backwards into the pool of light.

The king caught his breath in disbelief. 

‘Merlyn! Against all hope...’

The wizard smiled impishly at his aged royal pupil. ‘I see you’ve been killing people again, Arthur. Another fine pickle you’ve got yourself into!”

**********

“A once and future king?’ complained Merlyn. ‘Dear oh dear, I thought we’d given up all that nonsense.’ He shook his head of unruly red hair in irritation. ‘Isn’t enough ever enough?’

Arthur raised himself painfully from the side of the chair where “they had sat him. He slammed his gloved fist against the carved arm. ‘You gave your word!’

‘I most certainly did not! You’ve been listening to those minstrels again. They always exaggerate.’

‘Teeth of Heaven!’ A series of coughs tore up from Arthur’s aching lungs. He pushed away the queen who moved in to tend him and wiped the fresh blood from his mouth himself. 

‘You are never here when I have need of you, Merlyn.’

The wizard shrugged and smiled weakly, revealing the laughter lines on his avuncular face. ‘I can’t be everywhere at once.’

But there was still mischief behind his eyes. And he still looked younger every time he returned.

Arthur rested his head back on the side of the chair. He looked around the dark ribs of the King’s Hall ship that Merlyn had cultured for him long, long ago in the vat-cellars of the High Tagel. The consoles bleeped quietly as they awaited his instructions. Always ready to jump the stars or outfly the swiftest ornithopter.

‘Ten years of war have we suffered. My wife and friend are lost to me. The alliance of the Round Table is broken.

My kingdom is slipping away. The land dies.’

‘Morgaine has grown in power. She will destroy us all with her black arts.’

‘I doubt that. Arthur. But it may be a long struggle.’

‘I thought I had lost my tutor too. And then you return against all odds, but only to snatch away my remaining hope.’

‘Oh, don’t be so gloomy. And never trust people who make prophesies.’

Arthur lifted his eyes in disbelief. ‘But you do naught else!’

‘It’s one of my more annoying habits.’

The High King of the Thirteen Worlds gripped the arms of the chair and struggled to rise. 

He cursed as his knees buckled under him. The dead armour was cumbersome and he was too weak to move against it. He sat back temporarily defeated. But he would find a way.

He missed Lancelot. 

And he longed to see Guenever again and ask for her forgiveness.

Merlyn took a salve-sponge from one of the queens and began gently to wipe the mud and blood from the aged king’s face.

‘My dear Arthur, I think it’s time I came clean with you.’

‘Excalibur,’ he muttered. ‘Where is it?’

‘You see it’s all very well calling me tutor, but I can’t even begin your education until I find out how all this ends.’

To Merlyn’s surprise, the king appeared to rally from his misery. ‘So it is true then,’ he said eagerly.”

‘True? Why? What else have the minstrels been saying?’

‘That you live your life backwards.’

‘No, no, no!’

From his tatty embroidered Afghan coat, Merlyn tugged a floppy hat of brown felt. 

He flailed it into shape as he tried to contain his annoyance. Around its brim, the saffron Katmandu bandana was creased and tangled. A pair of finger cymbals tinkled to the floor. ‘My life may be rather haphazard — in a temporal sort of way. But I cannot predict the future...’

‘You deny it yet again!’

‘Of course I do! And you know that.’

‘So you cannot say the hour of my death.’

The wizard smiled inwardly that the old king could still beat his tutor into a corner. He looked forward to beginning the young king’s education. But there seemed no way to convince his old friend that time was passing.

All things had their time and that included the time to let go of what you loved.

“I shall rise again,’ continued Arthur. ‘There is no question. I decree it. And I shall see Morgaine defeated.

And you, Merlyn, I rely on to see me win through!’

Merlyn’s twin hearts sank. ‘I’ll see what I can do, my lord,’ he said quietly. ‘It may already be in hand.’

The king grunted. Satisfied at last, he leaned back into his chair. ‘And find my sword too.’

There was a movement in the shadows at the back of the hall. One of the queens, Bellangere of Orlamande, lifted Excalibur from the cavity into which it had been peristalted by the ship. She carried the ancient sword with reverence toMerlyn.

‘But there is no scabbard,’ she said.

‘I’m sure it’ll turn up again some time.’ Merlyn held the sword for a moment, recognizing the filigree ganglia systems worked out in the hilt and the blade.

‘I am hight Escalibore,

Unto a king fair tresore.’

‘Thank you, your majesties,’ he said gravely. ‘Your part in this will be remembered.’

The three attendant queens bowed low to him. Then he turned to present the sword to its true master.

The king was already sleeping. A new serenity drained the aching weariness from his face. His breathing steadied.

The queens watched Merlyn carry the sword, symbol of the High Kingship, to the central control console. He found the key input socket that he had grafted into the obsidian unit, because he remembered that long ago he had found it there in the future. He slowly, ceremonially, lowered the blade into its place.

‘So my once and future friend, the Night Watch begins.’

The huge amethyst in the hilt glittered momentarily with fire. The gentle hum of the ship pitched up a degree.

“High King Arthur shifted in his sleep. ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ he muttered through his dreams.”

Excerpt From: Platt, Marc. “Battlefield.” 

Target Books, 1991-08-14T07:00:00+00:00. iBooks. 

This material may be protected by copyright.

(LIBER LXXXI - THE BUTTERFLY NET) A PROLOGUE

by ALEISTER CROWLEY

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This book was written in 1917, during such leisure as my efforts to bring America into the War on our side allowed me. Hence my illusions on the subject, and the sad showing of Simon Iff at the end. Need I add that, as the book itself demonstrates beyond all doubt, all persons and incidents are purely the figment of a disordered imagination?

London, 1929.

A.C.

All Sacrifice is Self-Sacrifice

When I met you [You were afraid] 

When I met you [She stole your heart] 

I was The Walking Dead [She tore you down] 

I was kicked in the head [She tore you down] 

It was such a time [When I met you] 

It was such a time [When I met you] 

I was crushed inside [When I met you] 

I was torn inside 

When I met you 

When I met you 

I was too insane 

Could not trust a thing 

I was off my head 

I was filled with Truth 

It was not God's Truth 

Before I met you 

"It was to be trampled on by men that I was born into this world. It was to share men's pain that I carried my cross."

If you experience fear, and palpable existential terror whilst viewing and participating in the below scene, you are experiencing sacrifice.

To empathise with the victim of human sacrifice, to know his sense of terror and experience the horror of his death is to become the victim;

One cannot sacrifice The Other - only that which is of The Self.

Hence, the mass human sacrifices of the latter Aztec Empire did not work - they were trying to sacrifice other people to save themselves, rather than a volunteer or willing participant to the sacrifice, entered into with Fully Informed Consent.

" Very few readers of the Golden Bough have pierced Sir Prof. Dr. Frazer's veil of euphemism and surmised the exact method used by Isis in restoring life to Osiris, although this is shown quite clearly in extant Egyptian frescoes. 

Those who are acquainted with this simple technique of resurrecting the dead (which is at least partially successful in all cases and totally successful in most) will have no trouble in skrying the esoteric connotations of the Sacred Chao— or of the Taoist yin-yang or the astrological sign of Cancer. 

The method almost completely reverses that of the pentagrams, right or left, and it can even be said that in a certain sense it was not Osiris himself but his brother, Set, symbolically understood, who was the object of Isis's magical workings. 

In every case, without exception, a magical or mystical symbol always refers to one of the very few* variations of the same, very special variety of human sacrifice: the "one eye opening" or the "one hand clapping"; and this sacrifice cannot be partial— it must culminate in death if it is to be efficacious. 

The literalmindedness of the Saures, in the novel, caused them to become a menace to life on earth; the reader should bear this in mind. 

The sacrifice is not simple. It is a species of cowardice, epidemic in AngloSaxon nations for more than three centuries, which causes most who seek success in this field to stop short before the death of the victim. 

Anything less than death—that is, complete oblivion—simply will not work.** 

(One will find more clarity on this crucial point in the poetry of John Donne than in most treatises alleging to explain the secrets of magick.) 

* Fewer than seventy, according to a classical enumeration. 

 ** The magician must always identify fully with the victim, and share every agonized contortion to the utmost. 

Any attitude of standing aside and watching, as in a theatrical performance, or any intellectualization during the moments when the sword is doing its brutal but necessary work, or any squeamishness or guilt or revulsion, creates the twomindedness against which Hagbard so vehemently warns in Never Whistle While You're Pissing. 

In a sense, only the mind dies.

For the Scabbard is Worth Ten of the Sword

KING ARTHUR had fought a hard battle with the tallest Knight in all the land, and though he struck hard and well, he would have been slain had not Merlin enchanted the Knight and cast him into a deep sleep, and brought the King to a hermit who had studied the art of healing, and cured all his wounds in three days. Then Arthur and Merlin waited no longer, but gave the hermit thanks and departed.

As they rode together Arthur said, 'I have no sword,' but Merlin bade him be patient and he would soon give him one. In a little while they came to a large lake, and in the midst of the lake Arthur beheld an arm rising out of the water, holding up a sword. 'Look!' said Merlin, 'that is the sword I spoke of.' And the King looked again, and a maiden stood upon the water. 'That is the Lady of the Lake,' said Merlin, 'and she is coming to you, and if you ask her courteously she will give you the sword.' So when the maiden drew near Arthur saluted her and said, 'Maiden, I pray you tell me whose sword is that which an arm is holding out of the water? I wish it were mine, for I have lost my sword.'

'That sword is mine, King Arthur,' answered she, and I will give it to you, if you in return will give me a gift when I ask you.'

'By my faith,' said the King, 'I will give you whatever gift you ask.' 'Well,' said the maiden, 'get into the barge yonder, and row yourself to the sword, and take it and the scabbard with you.' For this was the sword Excalibur. 'As for my gift, I will ask it in my own time.' 

Then King Arthur and Merlin dismounted from their horses and tied them up safely, and went into the barge, and when they came to the place where the arm was holding the sword Arthur took it by the handle, and the arm disappeared. And they brought the sword back to land. As they rode the King looked lovingly on his sword, which Merlin saw, and, smiling, said, Which do you like best, the sword or the scabbard?

 'I like the sword,' answered Arthur. 

'You are not wise to say that,' replied Merlin, 'for the scabbard is worth ten of the sword, and as long as it is buckled on you you will lose no blood, however sorely you may be wounded.' 

So they rode into the town of Carlion, and Arthur's Knights gave them a glad welcome, and said it was a joy to serve under a King who risked his life as much as any common man.

CAMRMERL - The Campaign for Real Merlyn

"a head of unruly red hair"

"tatty embroidered Afghan coat"

"floppy hat of brown felt"

"saffron Katmandu bandana"

I know whom thou seekest, for thou seekest Merlin; therefore seek no farther, for I am he.

You that are watching

The gray Magician

With eyes of wonder,

I am Merlin,

And I am dying,

I am Merlin

Who follow The Gleam.

The days of our kind are numberèd. The one God comes to drive out the many gods. The spirits of wood and stream grow silent. It's the way of things. Yes... it's a time for men, and their ways.

The best thing for being sad … is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake in the middle of the night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world around you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then — to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting.

Look upon this moment. Savor it! Rejoice with great gladness! Great gladness! Remember it always, for you are joined by it. You are One, under the stars. Remember it well, then... this night, this great victory. So that in the years ahead, you can say, "I was there that night, with Arthur, the King!" For it is the doom of men that they forget.

Anál nathrach, orth’ bháis’s bethad, do chél dénmha. *

* "The Charm of Making", an incantation repeatedly uttered by both Merlin and Morgana, is in an Old Gaelic dialect which translates to: 

"Serpent's breath, charm of death and life, thy omen of making."

“A single shaft of light fell from the roof and illuminated a black slab of obsidian like an altar at the centre of the hall. There was a figure standing in front of the slab, silhouetted against the light. As the king’s cortege crossed the floor, their footsteps echoing back at them, the figure stretched out its arms in greeting and stepped backwards into the pool of light.

The king caught his breath in disbelief. 

‘Merlyn! Against all hope...’

The wizard smiled impishly at his aged royal pupil. ‘I see you’ve been killing people again, Arthur. Another fine pickle you’ve got yourself into!”

**********

“A once and future king?’ complained Merlyn. ‘Dear oh dear, I thought we’d given up all that nonsense.’ He shook his head of unruly red hair in irritation. ‘Isn’t enough ever enough?’

Arthur raised himself painfully from the side of the chair where “they had sat him. He slammed his gloved fist against the carved arm. ‘You gave your word!’

‘I most certainly did not! You’ve been listening to those minstrels again. They always exaggerate.’

‘Teeth of Heaven!’ A series of coughs tore up from Arthur’s aching lungs. He pushed away the queen who moved in to tend him and wiped the fresh blood from his mouth himself. 

‘You are never here when I have need of you, Merlyn.’

The wizard shrugged and smiled weakly, revealing the laughter lines on his avuncular face. ‘I can’t be everywhere at once.’

But there was still mischief behind his eyes. And he still looked younger every time he returned.

Arthur rested his head back on the side of the chair. He looked around the dark ribs of the King’s Hall ship that Merlyn had cultured for him long, long ago in the vat-cellars of the High Tagel. The consoles bleeped quietly as they awaited his instructions. Always ready to jump the stars or outfly the swiftest ornithopter.

‘Ten years of war have we suffered. My wife and friend are lost to me. The alliance of the Round Table is broken.

My kingdom is slipping away. The land dies.’

‘Morgaine has grown in power. She will destroy us all with her black arts.’

‘I doubt that. Arthur. But it may be a long struggle.’

‘I thought I had lost my tutor too. And then you return against all odds, but only to snatch away my remaining hope.’

‘Oh, don’t be so gloomy. And never trust people who make prophesies.’

Arthur lifted his eyes in disbelief. ‘But you do naught else!’

‘It’s one of my more annoying habits.’

The High King of the Thirteen Worlds gripped the arms of the chair and struggled to rise. 

He cursed as his knees buckled under him. The dead armour was cumbersome and he was too weak to move against it. He sat back temporarily defeated. But he would find a way.

He missed Lancelot. 

And he longed to see Guenever again and ask for her forgiveness.

Merlyn took a salve-sponge from one of the queens and began gently to wipe the mud and blood from the aged king’s face.

‘My dear Arthur, I think it’s time I came clean with you.’

‘Excalibur,’ he muttered. ‘Where is it?’

‘You see it’s all very well calling me tutor, but I can’t even begin your education until I find out how all this ends.’

To Merlyn’s surprise, the king appeared to rally from his misery. ‘So it is true then,’ he said eagerly.”

‘True? Why? What else have the minstrels been saying?’

‘That you live your life backwards.’

‘No, no, no!’

From his tatty embroidered Afghan coat, Merlyn tugged a floppy hat of brown felt. 

He flailed it into shape as he tried to contain his annoyance. Around its brim, the saffron Katmandu bandana was creased and tangled. A pair of finger cymbals tinkled to the floor. ‘My life may be rather haphazard — in a temporal sort of way. But I cannot predict the future...’

‘You deny it yet again!’

‘Of course I do! And you know that.’

‘So you cannot say the hour of my death.’

The wizard smiled inwardly that the old king could still beat his tutor into a corner. He looked forward to beginning the young king’s education. But there seemed no way to convince his old friend that time was passing.

All things had their time and that included the time to let go of what you loved.

“I shall rise again,’ continued Arthur. ‘There is no question. I decree it. And I shall see Morgaine defeated.

And you, Merlyn, I rely on to see me win through!’

Merlyn’s twin hearts sank. ‘I’ll see what I can do, my lord,’ he said quietly. ‘It may already be in hand.’

The king grunted. Satisfied at last, he leaned back into his chair. ‘And find my sword too.’

There was a movement in the shadows at the back of the hall. One of the queens, Bellangere of Orlamande, lifted Excalibur from the cavity into which it had been peristalted by the ship. She carried the ancient sword with reverence toMerlyn.

‘But there is no scabbard,’ she said.

‘I’m sure it’ll turn up again some time.’ Merlyn held the sword for a moment, recognizing the filigree ganglia systems worked out in the hilt and the blade.

‘I am hight Escalibore,

Unto a king fair tresore.’

‘Thank you, your majesties,’ he said gravely. ‘Your part in this will be remembered.’

The three attendant queens bowed low to him. Then he turned to present the sword to its true master.

The king was already sleeping. A new serenity drained the aching weariness from his face. His breathing steadied.

The queens watched Merlyn carry the sword, symbol of the High Kingship, to the central control console. He found the key input socket that he had grafted into the obsidian unit, because he remembered that long ago he had found it there in the future. He slowly, ceremonially, lowered the blade into its place.

‘So my once and future friend, the Night Watch begins.’

The huge amethyst in the hilt glittered momentarily with fire. The gentle hum of the ship pitched up a degree.

“High King Arthur shifted in his sleep. ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ he muttered through his dreams.”

Excerpt From: Platt, Marc. “Battlefield.” 

Target Books, 1991-08-14T07:00:00+00:00. iBooks. 

This material may be protected by copyright.

Rogue One : The Maquis

Vive la France libre dans l’honneur et dans l’indépendance !

Jen - Come here.

Rememeber : whatever I do - I do to protect you.

Say you understand.


My love for her has never faded...

Jenna - my Stardust - I can't imagine what you think of me.

When I was taken, I faced some bitter truths.

I was told that soon enough Krennic would have you as well.

As time went on, I knew that you were either dead, or so well-hidden that he would never find you.

I knew, if I refused to work, if I took my own life, , it would only be a matter of time before Krennic realised that he no longer needed me to complete The Project.

So, I did the one thing which nobody expected -

I lied.

I learned to lie.

I played the part of a beaten man, resigned to the sanctuary of his work.  

I made myself indispensable.

And all the while, I lay the groundwork of my revenge... "

"The leaders who, for many years, were at the head of French armies, have formed a government. This government, alleging our armies to be undone, agreed with the enemy to stop fighting. Of course, we were subdued by the mechanical, ground and air forces of the enemy. Infinitely more than their number, it was the tanks, the airplanes, the tactics of the Germans which made us retreat. It was the tanks, the airplanes, the tactics of the Germans that surprised our leaders to the point to bring them there where they are today.

"But has the last word been said? 
Must hope disappear? 
Is defeat final? 
No!

"Believe me, I speak to you with full knowledge of the facts and tell you that nothing is lost for France. The same means that overcame us can bring us to a day of victory. 

For France is not alone! 
She is not alone! She is not alone! 
She has a vast Empire behind her. She can align with the British Empire that holds the sea and continues the fight. 

She can, like England, use without limit the immense industry of United States.

"This war is not limited to the unfortunate territory of our country.
 This war is not finished by the battle of France. 
This war is a world wide war. 

All the faults, all the delays, all the suffering, do not prevent there to be, in the world, all the necessary means to one day crush our enemies. Vanquished today by mechanical force, we will be able to overcome in the future by a superior mechanical force. The destiny of the world is here. 

I, General de Gaulle, currently in London, invite the officers and the French soldiers who are located in British territory or who would come there, with their weapons or without their weapons, I invite the engineers and the special workers of armament industries who are located in British territory or who would come there, to put themselves in contact with me.

Whatever happens, the flame of the French resistance not must not be extinguished and will not be extinguished.

De juin 1940 à août 1941, les hommes qui ont pris le pouvoir à Vichy mettent en place une politique de collaboration avec l'Allemagne. Pétain impose son idéologie réactionnaire pendant que Laval et Abetz, ambassadeur d'Allemagne en France, oeuvrent au rapprochement des deux pays. Après avoir évincé Laval, Pétain applique une politique xénophobe et antisémite, alignée sur celle de l'Allemagne nazie. A partir de l'hiver 1941, la collaboration s'intensifie. Laval, devenue président du Conseil, organise la répression policière pour lutter contre la Résistance et pour traquer réfractaires et juifs.

Appel du 21 mai 1940
Charles de Gaulle
21 mai 1940

C'est la guerre mécanique qui a commencé le 10 mai. En l'air et sur la terre, l'engin mécanique - avion ou char - est l'élément principal de la force.


L'ennemi a remporté sur nous un avantage initial. Pourquoi ? Uniquement parce qu'il a plus tôt et plus complètement que nous mis à profit cette vérité.


Ses succès lui viennent de ses divisions blindées et de son aviation de bombardement, pas d'autre chose ! Eh bien ? nos succès de demain et notre victoire - oui ! notre victoire - nous viendront un jour de nos divisions cuirassées et de notre aviation d'attaque. Il y a des signes précurseurs de cette victoire mécanique de la France.


Le chef qui vous parle a l'honneur de commander une division cuirassée française. Cette division vient de durement combattre ; eh bien ! on peut dire très simplement, très gravement - sans nulle vantardise - que cette division a dominé le champ de bataille de la première à la dernière heure du combat.


Tous ceux qui y servent, général aussi bien que le plus simple de ses troupiers, ont retiré de cette expérience une confiance absolue dans la puissance d'un tel instrument.


C'est cela qu'il nous faut pour vaincre. Grâce à cela, nous avons déjà vaincu sur un point de la ligne. Grâce à cela, un jour, nous vaincrons sur toute la ligne.

Les chefs qui, depuis de nombreuses années, sont à la tête des armées françaises, ont formé un gouvernement. Ce gouvernement, alléguant la défaite de nos armées, s’est mis en rapport avec l’ennemi pour cesser le combat.

Certes, nous avons été, nous sommes, submergés par la force mécanique, terrestre et aérienne, de l’ennemi.

Infiniment plus que leur nombre, ce sont les chars, les avions, la tactique des Allemands qui nous font reculer. Ce sont les chars, les avions, la tactique des Allemands qui ont surpris nos chefs au point de les amener là où ils en sont aujourd’hui.

Mais le dernier mot est-il dit ? L’espérance doit-elle disparaître ? La défaite est-elle définitive ? Non !

Croyez-moi, moi qui vous parle en connaissance de cause et vous dis que rien n’est perdu pour la France. Les mêmes moyens qui nous ont vaincus peuvent faire venir un jour la victoire.

Car la France n’est pas seule ! Elle n’est pas seule ! Elle n’est pas seule ! Elle a un vaste Empire derrière elle. Elle peut faire bloc avec l’Empire britannique qui tient la mer et continue la lutte. Elle peut, comme l’Angleterre, utiliser sans limites l’immense industrie des États-Unis.

Cette guerre n’est pas limitée au territoire malheureux de notre pays. Cette guerre n’est pas tranchée par la bataille de France. Cette guerre est une guerre mondiale. Toutes les fautes, tous les retards, toutes les souffrances, n’empêchent pas qu’il y a, dans l’univers, tous les moyens nécessaires pour écraser un jour nos ennemis. Foudroyés aujourd’hui par la force mécanique, nous pourrons vaincre dans l’avenir par une force mécanique supérieure. Le destin du monde est là.

Moi, Général de Gaulle, actuellement à Londres, j’invite les officiers et les soldats français qui se trouvent en territoire britannique ou qui viendraient à s’y trouver, avec leurs armes ou sans leurs armes, j’invite les ingénieurs et les ouvriers spécialistes des industries d’armement qui se trouvent en territoire britannique ou qui viendraient à s’y trouver, à se mettre en rapport avec moi.

Quoi qu’il arrive, la flamme de la résistance française ne doit pas s’éteindre et ne s’éteindra pas.

Demain, comme aujourd’hui, je parlerai à la Radio de Londres.

Appel du 22 Juin

Charles de Gaulle
22 juin 1940


Le gouvernement français, après avoir demandé l’armistice, connaît maintenant les conditions dictées par l’ennemi.

Il résulte de ces conditions que les forces françaises de terre, de mer et de l’air seraient entièrement démobilisées, que nos armes seraient livrées, que le territoire français serait totalement occupé et que le Gouvernement français tomberait sous la dépendance de l’Allemagne et de l’Italie.

On peut donc dire que cet armistice serait, non seulement une capitulation, mais encore un asservissement.

Or, beaucoup de Français n’acceptent pas la capitulation ni la servitude, pour des raisons qui s’appellent l’honneur, le bon sens, l’intérêt supérieur de la Patrie.

Je dis l’honneur ! Car la France s’est engagée à ne déposer les armes que d’accord avec ses Alliés. Tant que ses Alliés continuent la guerre, son gouvernement n’a pas le droit de se rendre à l’ennemi. Le Gouvernement polonais, le Gouvernement norvégien, le Gouvernement hollandais, le Gouvernement belge, le Gouvernement luxembourgeois, quoique chassés de leur territoire, ont compris ainsi leur devoir.

Je dis le bon sens ! Car il est absurde de considérer la lutte comme perdue. Oui, nous avons subi une grande défaite. Un système militaire mauvais, les fautes commises dans la conduite des opérations, l’esprit d’abandon du Gouvernement pendant ces derniers combats, nous ont fait perdre la bataille de France. Mais il nous reste un vaste Empire, une flotte intacte, beaucoup d’or. Il nous reste des alliés, dont les ressources sont immenses et qui dominent les mers. Il nous reste les gigantesques possibilités de l’industrie américaine. Les mêmes conditions de la guerre qui nous ont fait battre par 5 000 avions et 6 000 chars peuvent nous donner, demain, la victoire par 20 000 chars et 20 000 avions.

Je dis l’intérêt supérieur de la Patrie ! Car cette guerre n’est pas une guerre franco-allemande qu’une bataille puisse décider. Cette guerre est une guerre mondiale. Nul ne peut prévoir si les peuples qui sont neutres aujourd’hui le resteront demain, même les alliés de l’Allemagne resteront-ils toujours ses alliés ? Si les forces de la liberté triomphent finalement de celles de la servitude, quel serait le destin d’une France qui se serait soumise à l’ennemi ?

L’honneur, le bon sens, l’intérêt supérieur de la Patrie, commandent à tous les Français libres de continuer le combat, là où ils seront et comme ils pourront.

Il est, par conséquent, nécessaire de grouper partout où cela se peut une force française aussi grande que possible. Tout ce qui peut être réuni, en fait d’éléments militaires français et de capacités françaises de production d’armement, doit être organisé partout où il y en a.

Moi, Général de Gaulle, j’entreprends ici, en Angleterre, cette tâche nationale.

J’invite tous les militaires français des armées de terre, de mer et de l’air, j’invite les ingénieurs et les ouvriers français spécialistes de l’armement qui se trouvent en territoire britannique ou qui pourraient y parvenir, à se réunir à moi.

J’invite les chefs, les soldats, les marins, les aviateurs des forces françaises de terre, de mer, de l’air, où qu’ils se trouvent actuellement, à se mettre en rapport avec moi.

J’invite tous les Français qui veulent rester libres à m’écouter et à me suivre.


Vive la France libre dans l’honneur et dans l’indépendance !

Charles de Gaulle

L’Affiche de Londres

1940.

À TOUS LES FRANÇAIS

La France a perdu une bataille !

Mais la France n’a pas perdu la guerre !

Des gouvernants de rencontre ont pu capituler, cédant à la panique, oubliant l’honneur, livrant le pays à la servitude. Cependant, rien n’est perdu !

Rien n’est perdu, parce que cette guerre est une guerre mondiale. Dans l’univers libre, des forces immenses n’ont pas encore donné. Un jour ces forces écraseront l’ennemi. Il faut que la France, ce jour-la, soit présente à la victoire. Alors, elle retrouvera sa liberté et sa grandeur. Tel est mon but, mon seul but !

Voila pourquoi je convie tous les Français, où qu’ils se trouvent, à s’unir à moi dans l’action, dans le sacrifice et dans l’espérance.

Notre patrie est en péril de mort.

Luttons tous pour la sauver !

VIVE LA FRANCE !

GÉNÉRAL DE GAULLE

QUARTIER GÉNÉRAL,

4, CARLTON GARDENS,

LONDON, S.W.I