Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those soft touches wafted through the airâŚâ — The Wind in the Willows
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Donald Davidson lived long enough to be condemned by his fellow Southerners and Northern liberals as a racist, outside the ken of humanity. At best he was treated to private sympathy and public condemnation. Once, when he attempted to elicit support for segregation from Allen Tate, Tate tried to mollify him by suggesting that maybe the negroes wouldnât want to integrate. Then, having spewed immoral drivel on a friend seeking moral support, Tate went merrily on his academic way. And Tateâs cowardly response to the vital issue of white survival was the response of all post-1945 conservative intellectuals, with the exception of Anthony Jacob and Davidson himself. They were completely indifferent to the major issue of the 20th century: an emergence of a liberal oligarchy, with a stranglehold on the schools and the churches, who were determined to destroy the white race.Â
The Jews have always hated the European people because the European people were the Christ-bearers. And the colored tribesmen have always hated the white man because they worship darkness and not the light. So why were the whites of the 20th century, and why are the whites of the 21st century, in greater danger than in any of the preceding centuries? What has changed? Well, the European-hating Jew we have always had with us, and the white-hating colored tribesmen we have always had with us, but a controlling liberal oligarchy determined to eradicate the white race? We have not always had that demonic oligarchy with us. There were always white-hating whites within Christendom, but it was only in the latter half of the 20th century that they gained complete control of the European nations. That is the difference between past and present. The white race is now at the mercy of the savage races of color, which are devoid of mercy, because white liberals have taken power after years and years of conservative indifference to the survival of their own people.
I liken the conservative intellectualâs response to the white-hating liberal as that of a man with a wife and five children, who responds to a home invasion by armed thugs by ignoring the thugs as they butcher his wife and children. Instead of fighting against the thugs, our modern conservative intellectual father runs to his study and saves his soon-to-be-published manuscript on the theory of the family. âThank God, I saved the manuscript!â the father says as he escapes out the window of his study, âThe world would have been left bereft of families had I not saved my work on the theory of the family!â Do I exaggerate? Not one bit. I grew up reading the post-World War II conservatives, and as a young man I got to meet some of them. They were not a bad bunch, but I came to realize that they were not the men their 19th century counterparts were. They had begun the shift, ever so slightly, away from a blood faith grounded in the people of Europe, to an intellectual faith grounded in the ever-changing universalist world of abstract thought. As soon as a man starts down that slippery slope, his ultimate destiny is determined: he will become part of Liberaldom. And that is the key to understanding the post-1945 conservatives. They became ashamed of anything that could not be made into a theory. Writers such as Dabney, Fitzhugh, and Page spoke unabashedly about the necessity of the survival of the white race, but their 20th century conservative counterparts theorized about race and wrote vaguely about respecting traditions, on the one hand, while condemning the racism of their ancestors on the other hand. Some did this in order to be dispassionate and objective, and by doing so convince the liberals that they, the new conservatives, were really good fellows. Well, the liberals still didnât regard the conservatives as good guys, and the unimpassioned âobjectivityâ of the conservatives turned out to be less truthful than the passionate advocacy of the 19th century conservatives. When we read the works of Dabney, Fitzhugh, and Page today, we feel that we are in the presence of prophets. They spoke from their hearts and they spoke the truth. What about their âconservativeâ descendants? We find nothing but intellectual drivel similar to the vacillating verbiage that Allen Tate dumped on Donald Davidson.
It was inevitable that the post-World War II conservatives would be absorbed into Liberaldom and become just as hostile to the European people as the liberals. In order to understand why the absorption and betrayal was inevitable, you need only read Edmund Whittakerâs book called Space and Spirit (1948). Whittaker was a professor of mathematics at the University of Edinburgh. In his book he pointed out that modern science was a derivative of classical and medieval philosophy. Therefore, Whittaker argued, there was a direct connection between modern science, the Greek philosophical tradition, and medieval philosophy. I agree with Whittaker that those three schools of thought are united. But Whittaker thought the unity was a good thing. I think the Greek philosophical tradition in conjunction with the medieval philosophical tradition, and their child, modern science, is an unholy trinity that has destroyed the European people. Negroes murder whites with impunity, while the whites worship negroes in the same churches where they used to worship Christ, because of the impious union of Greek philosophy, medieval philosophy, and modern science.
There is a line, not visible to the material eye, which separates the bardic culture from the scientific culture. At some point in the early part of the 20th century, the European people crossed over the bardic line and became a secondhand race of people. A secondhand race of people has no instinctual life. They have no direct link to their past because they do not believe in blood ties. And they have no connection to a living God, because they believe that a real God must conform to the philosophical and scientific specifications of their secondhand knowledge of existence. Where is the empirical proof for Christâs resurrection from the dead? There is no proof in the modern scientific, philosophical world of the modern European. The proof of His resurrection lies in the blood of the European people prior to the time when they renounced their blood. The Christian fairy tale is true, but its truth can only be seen by people who believe in fairy tales more than mathematics.
As Whittaker tells us, the scientific-philosophical heresy, which he does not label a heresy, has always been part of the Western tradition, but it was not the vital part of our tradition until the 20th century. Undergirding all the classical studies — before the 20th century — was the European spirit, which was completely opposed to the Greek and medieval classical tradition. Over and above the staid, dispassionate classicism of the philosophical-scientistic theology was the passion of the bardic European whose faith was described by Thomas Nelson Page:
He was a Goth in all his appetites and habits, a Goth unchanged, unfettered. True to his instincts, true to his traditions, fearing nothing, loving only his own, loving and hating with all his heart â a Goth.
The pagan Europeans accepted Christ so readily because they had a strong racial memory of the time when they were connected to God, heart and soul. They knew God, not in the fullness of His divine humanity in the person of Christ, but they did know Him. Their shift from the Hero-Gods of Europe to the God-Man was more of a homecoming than a conversion. Their Hero-Gods were created from a dim recollection of the true God. The Christ story clarified their memories, and they returned home.
The Europeansâ struggle has always been to keep the secondhand, abstract faith of the unholy trinity at bay while holding on to the essential bardic, bred-in-the-bone faith of the European people. So long as the Europeans kept to the âtilled field and hedgerow, linked to the ploughed furrow, the frequented pasture, the lane of evening lingeringâŚâ they were men. Once they rejected the lane of evening lingering for the philosophical-scientific heresy, they became second-hand men staring at themselves from outside themselves and wondering how they came to such a pass. Once we first begin to doubt that our knowledge of the true God is bred in the bone, we go down a slippery slope of doubts that lead to a second-hand intellectual faith, which in turn leads to the worship of the negro.
Wearied from doubt to doubt to flee,
We welcome fond credulity.
Yes, isnât it the height of credulity to flee from the living God to an abstract faith in the noble black savage?
We are all born into the heretical world of science. With our motherâs milk we imbibe a sick, soul-killing ideology. In order to cure our souls we must fight our way back to bardic Europe. C. S. Lewis, a man who had to fight his way back, gives us a marvelous image of the Europeanâs return to bardic Europe through the wardrobe door. Old Europe was certainly a Narnian world in which we saw God and knew Him not only as our Lord but as our kinsman. In that world is charity, truth, beauty, honor, and faith; outside that world is the abstracted intellect, devoid of humanity, which is always the mark of Satan.
For this purpose Mephistopheles is, like Louis XI, endowed with an acute and depreciating spirit of caustic wit, which is employed incessantly in undervaluing and vilifying all actions, the consequences of which do not lead certainly and directly to self-gratification.
The material world is merely a symbol of the spiritual world; such was the collective wisdom of the European people who believed in Christ. The collective wisdom of the philosophical-scientistic Europeans is that the material world is the world: âWhatever we see with the naked eye is reality.â But âtis not so; we are such stuff as dreams are made on. The European once dreamt of dragons, giants, heroes, fair ladies, and a God whose love passeth all understanding. Were those dreams pure fiction, and is our nightmare world of science reality? That is the question. Modern Europeans, conservative and liberal, have taken their stand with the men in the white laboratory coats. The fairy tale world of antique Europe has been condemned because its people were guilty of crimes against humanity, the foremost of which was racism. But in my eyes the European Fairy Tale must have been true. If it wasnât, then how did they, the antique Europeans, manage the spiritual equivalent of walking on water? Surely such a people had to be connected to the living God in order to have spawned William Shakespeare, Michelangelo, Handel, and Chartres Cathedral. The only people who ever displayed an understanding of 1 Corinthians 13 were the antique Europeans. Who, once they have been exposed to old Europe, would prefer the modern, racially diverse Europe that has not charity? The answer? The entire white establishment. And bereft is the word for the European people. Like Arthur after the demise of the Roundtable, they wonder if they ever really existed at all:
…on my heart hath fallen
Confusion, till I know not what I am,
If a man from this our modern Europe once takes a journey into bardic Europe, because he sees a kindly light emanating from that distant land, he will never again see life with the materialist eye. He will dream dreams and see the vision: dreams of old Europe and her people, and a vision of the risen Lord. In my country we will soon be having a Presidential election, and I certainly will be voting against The Obama. But the far more important election took place at the beginning of the 20th century when the European people elected to institutionalize the unholy trinity of Greek philosophy, medieval philosophy, and science. From that liberal alliance came modern race-mixing, abortion, and atheist Europe. There is no hope in such a world. We need to go home. Home, for the European, will always be His Europe. He canât abide with us until we decide to abide with Him by the hearth fire that He has kept burning through all the years of our wanderings in the deserts of modernity. My youngest daughter once remarked to me that she always felt she was reentering an alien, hostile world and leaving a wonderful, comfortable world when she finished a novel by Ian Maclaren, Walter Scott, or Charles Dickens. She has it right. Old Europe is our world, and we âdonât want any other.â +