I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,
Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love;
The love that asks no question, the love that stands the test,
That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best;
The love that never falters, the love that pays the price,
The love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice.
I heard my country calling, away across the sea,
Across the waste of waters she calls and calls to me.
Her sword is girded at her side, her helmet on her head,
And round her feet are lying the dying and the dead.
I hear the noise of battle, the thunder of her guns,
I haste to thee my mother, a son among thy sons.
And there’s another country, I’ve heard of long ago,
Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know;
We may not count her armies, we may not see her King;
Her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering;
And soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase,
And her ways are ways of gentleness, and all her paths are peace. (1)
That poem was written by Sir Cecil Spring-Rice. I don’t think Spring-Rice’s feelings about his England were particularly unusual for his times. I think most Englishmen of the 19th century and the early 20th century felt connected to their nation by ties of faith and blood. And I’m sure the men of every European nation once had similar feelings about their nations — “Southern by the grace of God” and “The sacred Fatherland” and so on.
Scott thought a deep spiritual connection to one’s people was necessary for a man’s soul. Every European school child used to memorize Scott’s verses from the Lay of the Last Minstrel:
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne’er within him burn’d,
As home his footsteps he hath turn’d,
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour’d, and unsung.
But in modern times what is considered patriotic has changed. The old patriotism, a deep spiritual connection to the people of your race, is now considered to be treasonous and blasphemous. A man in Liberaldom is considered a patriot and a Christian to the extent that he hates his own kith and kin and loves the black man. This new patriotism is supposed to be more in keeping with the brotherhood of man. It prevents wars and fosters a love of the pure and noble ideal, the noble black savage.
The first counterpoint is that preventing war is not always good. Sometimes we should fight wars. The second point is that the type of patriotism expressed by Scott, while not preventing wars, did add an element of chivalry to war that mitigated the evil of war and made peace possible at the end of the war. The better men, the Christian warriors, such as Lee and Alfred, were fierce in battle when it was thrust upon them, but they were chivalrous and gentle in victory and defeat. They were chivalrous to friend and foe because they had learned reverence and love, reverence for God and the love of kith and kin, at their racial hearth fires. It is the universalists, the liberals, who hate their kith and kin and reverence the negro, who make war without quarter. The universalists have severed all their ties to their own people and in doing so have become subhuman monstrosities, who place no limit on their bloodletting so long as the bloodletting advances the cause of their new people, the negro demigods. The old Europeans had a certain respect for their European enemies because they knew they both reverenced the Christian God and shared the same racial hearth fire. Montcalm told the English general, after the French-employed Indians massacred British troops who had already surrendered, that he would rather have lost the battle than be connected to such a breach of honor. Not so in liberal wars. There are no breaches of honor with liberals, because they have no honor. Everything that serves negro-worshipping liberalism is good, and everything else is anathema, and must be destroyed.
The French Jacobins no longer loved their fellow Frenchmen because they were of the same race, place, and faith. Instead, they loved the ideals of liberty, equality, and fraternity. Whoever professed to have the same ideals, be they black Haitians, murderous proletarian brigands, or Jew robbers, were their fellow countrymen. That was the new patriotism in France, Russia, and the northern half of the United States. A man was patriotic according to how loyal he was to a universal ideal, not according to how loyal he was to his kith and kin.
It’s now commonplace throughout all of the formerly white Christian nations to condemn a man whose patriotism is linked to his faith and his race, while lauding a universalist patriotism that is always measured by the extent that a man loves the negro and hates the white man. Every white protest against black atrocities is always expressed in universalist terms – “we are against all violence no matter what color…”— because the white protester hopes to appease the liberal universalists and by doing so get the liberals to act in favor of the white victims of black savagery. Such tactics never work, because the liberals consider whites to be evil and blacks sacred. How can sinful men rebuke their gods?
It’s not quite accurate to say that groups like the English Defense League, who want to stop the liberal, universalist-inspired extermination of white people by appealing to the universalist liberals, are using a tactic. It’s quite possible that they no longer believe that the English people are a particular people bound to their nation and each other by ties of blood and faith that go back to time immemorial. If that is the case, if they are not just using a tactic, but instead really believe in a multi-racial, multi-religious England, then they will be exterminated by the liberals and the black barbarians with less remorse than the wanton boys in King Lear: “As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods…” Who has ever received mercy at the hands of the black gods? The torture-murder of Jonathan Foster was not an aberration. It was the natural consequence of the Europeans’ refusal to fight for their people as a distinct people of one race and one faith. The barbarians of color take their cues from the whites. If the whites are weak and defenseless, the barbarians of color will attack. There have already been millions of Jonathan Fosters and there will be millions more so long as suicidal, liberal universalism rules the hearts and minds of white men.
The neopagans who blame Christianity for the suicide of the white nations have lost contact, like the liberals, with the lifeblood of their people. Satan, who is a master strategist, did not go after God with a full frontal attack. Instead, he cut off God’s supply lines to His people. God works in human hearts, through those mysterious channels of grace that exist at our racial hearth fires. Once Satan convinced the church men that God gives out His marching orders to a few select men with great minds, who in turn pass the information on to the people, the real people, the people with hearts of flesh, were then cut off from the true God who imparts to human hearts. Humpty Dumpty, who used words to tyrannize the inarticulate lay men, said, “When I use a word it means anything I want it to mean.” That’s what happened when theological Christianity, which is a man-made, mind-forged religion, replaced the ancient faith of the Europeans, a living faith forged by a living God who formed a bond with His people through the blood. The Humpty Dumpty faith suited the church men and Satan because it meant that Christianity could mean anything the mind of man, informed by Satan, wanted it to mean. It now means liberalism, and liberalism means negro worship.
When I was growing up I often heard my parents and my grandparents use the phrase, “If I got a dollar every time _____, I’d be a rich man.”I don’t know if that expression is still in parlance today, but let me bring it back again, with a slight adjustment for inflation. “If I got five dollars every time I heard or read of a liberal mocking the Victorians for their sentimentality over the death of Little Nell, for their devotion to their Queen, for their ‘repressive’ views of women, and for their antiquated notions about God and country, I’d be a wealthy man.” If you share the same sentiments on the major issues of life as the Victorians, which I most absolutely and devoutly do, you are supposed to crawl into a hole and feel ashamed of yourself for being a sloppy, sentimental, stupid, sexually repressed anachronism. But we all have sentiments, even the liberals. It’s a question of whose sentiments we want to live by. I want to stand with the Victorians, who wept at the death of Little Nell, put the white, Christian woman on a pedestal, and loved their people in and through the Christ of the European hearth fire. And I want to stand against the liberals, who rejoice at the “liberation” of women and their transformation from Florence Nightingales into Lady Macbeths, weep over the death of black thugs such as Nelson Mandella, exult over the torture and murder of white people, and worship the black savage. Is liberal nation our nation? It’s not mine, my heart and soul belongs to the antique Europeans whose hearts soared when they sang, “God Save Our Gracious Queen,” and who wept over the death of little Nell. (2)
What Chesterton said of Kipling, that he wanted his country to be powerful because he loved power, was not true. If Chesterton had taken the trouble to read Kipling’s work more deeply, he would have seen that Kipling loved his England intensely and for all the right sentiments; he was not lacking in pietas. Kipling wanted his nation to be powerful because he wanted his people to survive, and he knew they would not survive if they were left to the less than tender mercies of the lesser breeds without the law. Chesterton’s unfounded and spiteful accusation against Kipling could and should be leveled at the savages of color. They have no pietas; their patriotism consists of a love for the powerful. Again, let me quote P. P. Dugauquier:
Africans have respected power deriving from force for too many centuries to acquire any moral shackles—they admire and follow the man with strength. Here is an illustration, amusing but unfortunately quite true. In a school run by the Catholic Church for young men showing aptitudes which might befit them for eventual priesthood, a film was being shown. The film represented in silent form the trial and crucifixion of Jesus Christ. At the scene in the Palace where the Roman soldiers struck Him with whips and placed a crown of thrones upon His head, excited cries of ‘Pika! Pika!’ rang out from the Congolese. Pika means hit or strike, and quite naturally, as in a Western film we cheer on the goodies and boo the baddies, they were encouraging the strong against the weak.
Another film depicting in symbolic form the ending of the Arab slave trade by the white man was greeted with equal enthusiasm—each slash of the long whip on the wretched black man’s back was cheered wholeheartedly, and when in coming to grips with the Arab the white hero is momentarily thrown to the ground—their shouts reached a crescendo of support for the Arab—not as representing a race, creed or idea—but simply because he symbolized power and force.
The feeling of pietas, the love of your own, because they are your own, not because they are powerful or can do something for you, is an emotion, at least in its full development, that only the white man has felt. Let the pygmy-souled liberals scream racism all day and through the night, we will never cease to maintain that the antique Europeans were unique and special in that they loved their own more deeply and more profoundly than the colored races loved their own. No doubt this was because they loved the humane God more deeply and profoundly than the other races: “See how they love one another.”
Now, because of their hatred of everything white and Christian, the liberals, and the apostate clergy, make war on the European culture of pietas. It is a grave sin, an unpardonable sin, to love your own people. A white man must hate his own kind with his whole heart, mind, and soul if he is to enter the liberals’ kingdom of “heaven” on earth. Why should he want to belong to that kingdom, which is devoid of light, faith, honor, and love?
The liberals in state and church will always attack the older European culture and its defenders. “The older Christian Europeans were racist and sexist” the secular liberals tell us. “The antique Europeans were racist and sexist,” and therefore they were not Christian,” the church men tell us. From racist and sexist, we move on to the charge of romanticizing old Europe. Here we come up against this thing called ‘sentiment.’ Yes, I have a romantic attachment to old Europe. I see faith, hope, and charity in the collective face of those dear old folk from long ago. Christ presided over their hearth fires, and I feel His presence whenever I abide with them. What do I feel when I come near the liberals’ altars, which are consecrated to the negro gods? I feel the fires of hell. Do I over romanticize the Europe of pietas? No, I do not. It is not possible to over-romanticize His Europe any more than it is possible to exaggerate the evil of our modern, liberal-forged, negro-worshipping kingdom of Satan on earth. Our prayer, as we sit by the hearth fire of the antique Europeans, is the same as their prayer: it is the prayer of the apostles at Emmaus: “Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.” +
(1) In 2004, an Anglican bishop called for the first verse not to be included in Church of England services because it was ‘totally heretical.’
(2) Our first country is our race because we cannot be sure of our neighbor unless we know that he is genuinely our neighbor and not some foreign, alien intruder. And then we look for a specific country where the people of our own race and faith dwell. Growing up in the northern United States, I did not have a country. I was drawn, at an early age, to the Southern cavaliers and Bonnie Prince Charlie. But above them all I was drawn to England, the England of Shakespeare, Dickens, and the British Grenadiers. You could make an argument that England has fallen further down the slippery slop of liberalism than any other European nation. I wouldn’t quarrel with that argument, but I would add that England had the furthest to fall. Be that as it may, the people that once claimed, with pride, that “Britons never will be slaves,” have become, like all the people of Europe, the slaves of a universalist ideology that is opposed to the ancient faith of the British people.
When a loved one has Alzheimer’s disease, you don’t cease to love them. You remember what they were and still are in the deepest recesses of their soul. This displaced European, living in the Universalist Northern half of the United States of Liberaldom, will always love eternal Europe and have an extra special affection for “This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England…”