At the Last Trump

All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement,
Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us
Out of this fearful country!

“We are enow yet living in the field, To smother up the English in our throngs, if any order might be thought upon.” Thus spoke the Duke of Orleans at the battle of Agincourt, but of course no order was thought upon, and the French suffered one of the biggest ‘upset’ losses in military history.

The cry of the conservative, nationalists for the past thirty years has been the same as that of the Duke of Orleans: “There are still enough white people left to turn back the colored tide if whites will only band together as a racial unit and vote white.” And if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. White people are not going to band together and act as a racial unit, because they are a unique race of people; they, and they alone, built a Christian civilization, and they, and they alone, have built a post-Christian civilization. No white solidarity movement can be successful that does not take the white man’s religion into account. You can’t simply condemn it, as the neo-pagans do, nor can you leave it aside and put your faith in the democratic process, as the ‘Founding Father’ type conservatives do. Christ is our Promethean fire; without Him there is no hearth for the European.

The difference between a pagan’s love for his own race and a Christian’s love for his own race is a difference in intensity. Just as shame turns to guilt and kindness to charity in a Christian culture, so does pride of race turn to love of race in a Christian culture. What is missing in the pagans’ pride of race is a fully developed appreciation for the human personality. Only the Christian can be fully aware of the divinity within man, because only the Christian is linked to the divine personality.

Even though there are great differences in degree between the white pagan gods and the black barbarian gods, they all, in the end, are of the same kind: they are nature gods. Pagan man is ultimately alone in the jungle. He has the sun in the morning and moon at night, but he has no personal God who cares whether he lives or dies. Love for one’s race under such a canopy is a futile, desperate, despairing love. “I can’t survive death, but my race will survive and keep my name alive.” Who cares about such a survival? Only the incredibly superficial. The men of depth, such as Sophocles, say, “It is better never to have been born than to suffer such a fate.”

The white man could not rest content with paganism. He stepped away from the heathen gods and went looking for the God above the gods. The blind Oedipus called his brethren to see beyond Mt. Olympus, beyond Aristotle, beyond Plato, to the God who set the apostles’ hearts on fire on the road to Emmaus. The traditional faith of the European, and still the faith of the traditional European, was that He and He alone is waiting for us at the crossroad of life and death. As Le Fanu so eloquently says, we have only His promise and no other. The nature gods, seemingly so full of life and vitality when we are full of life and vitality, are lifeless and mute when our life’s blood has ebbed and we are in our death agony. Then it is only His life and His vitality that sustains us and His voice that we hear, which brings us to the great divide. The Thomistic revolt, as the great Russian Vladimir Solovyov pointed out, is a return to nature; the revolt constitutes a denial of the link between God and man. God is no longer in man; He is in nature. And man is once again alone with only nature as his comforter. Of course man still has the idea of God, but he no longer possesses God. God still imparts to human hearts, but if men’s hearts are closed because their minds are bound by nature, He cannot enter in.

The modern anti-white, anti-Christian Christian is simply carrying the logic of scholasticism to its ultimate conclusion. One doesn’t have to reject God in order to be a modern Christian atheist. One merely has to reserve the right to make God anything which the individual, autonomous man wants Him to be. And man also becomes whatever the modern scholastic wants him to be. I was forced to confront this type of post-Christian Christianity when I was involved in the pro-life movement. If one took a Christian peasant’s view of the matter, the abortion issue was quite simple: abortion was murder. “I was cast upon thee from the womb: thou art my God from my mother’s belly.” But to a Thomist who has no touchstone of reality, no blood relationship with God, but has only his unaided, rational contemplation of the natural world, it is not simple. Let’s listen to a “conservative” Thomist, Will Lester S. J., using Aquinas to justify legalized abortion:

The traditional, philosophical argument for man’s life beginning at the moment of fertilization centers around the theory that the “form” of the material being, which gives the body life and guides it through development, must be one and the same throughout the beings’ existence. But since the “form” of the developed man is demonstrably the intellectual soul, that soul must be present from the moment of fertilization and that moment must mark the beginning of man’s life as a human with all his rights. However, I am inclined to deny the need for a material being having one and the same soul throughout its existence. Rather I think Aquinas was correct in saying, “At first the embryo has a soul which is merely sensitive (capable of sense perception) and when this is taken away, it is supplanted by a more perfect soul which is both sensitive and intellectual.” (Summa, I, q. 76, a.3, ad 3...)

It is certain of course, that an intellectual soul is immaterial and subsistent and therefore cannot be generated; it can only be created. A sensitive soul, though, can be generated. Now, it seems to me that a sensitive soul, generated by humans, should suffice for human bodily development; then, after the brain developed sufficiently, the sensitive soul would be supplanted by an intellectual one bringing human life.
For one thing, it seems unreasonable that an intellectual soul which needs a material brain for its peculiar activity would be present before the brain would be usable even for the most rudimentary tasks. But without an activity peculiar to itself, the soul would have no sufficient reason for existence and therefore could not exist. The fact, too, that identical twins are formed by the splitting of what was once a one-cell, fertilized ovum argues against the one-cell zygote having intellectual soul. After all, an intellectual soul can neither co-inform the same body with another intellectual soul nor be split into two.

Also, the supplanting of a less perfect soul for the more perfect is consonant with the theory, which seems to be definitely true, that brain death constitutes the death of man. Except the process is in reverse. When the body can no longer be useful to the intellectual soul, that soul leaves; yet the body still accommodates a less perfect soul capable, at least, of nourishment.

Supplanting also appears to be accepted on principle by traditional theologians who rather unanimously allow for a limited evolution. They work on the supposition that if evolution were a fact and man evolved from an animal, the souls of a male and female near-human animal were finally supplanted by two intellectual souls and the resulting two persons became the parents of us all.

Furthermore, scientists Arthur Hertig and John Rock tell us, and their statements seem to be scientifically accurate, that 58% of all fertilized human eggs are lost within the first two weeks. They simply do not make it down the fallopian tubes or are not properly implanted on the wall of the uterus. (Later some 11% more are lost. Only 31% actually come to birth.) Now it seems unbecoming God’s providence that all those one-cell and few-celled beings which are lost should be immortal humans.

If my conclusions are correct, then direct, intentional abortion at the earliest stages of development would not be the moral evil of murder but of illicit birth control.

--from Morality Anyone? by William Lester, S. J., Arlington House, 1975

Contained in Lester’s convoluted justification of abortion is the reason why the white race is committing suicide. The mind of man, when detached from the Promethean heat of Christ’s loving heart, can and does make itself an artificial fantasy world. Reality is what the mind of man says it is. If autonomous man declares a baby is not a baby, then it is not a baby. And conversely, if autonomous man says there is no such thing as race, then there is no such thing as race. Babies and white people can be summoned or eliminated at a whim. When a baby is chosen, then it exists. When it is not chosen, it is a fetus. White people are a race when liberals want a race to blame the ills of mankind on; white people are not a race when liberals want to integrate schools and intermarry. Then, of course, there is no such thing as race. It’s all quite neat, if you’re a modern, post-Christian rationalist. Your fantasy world is the world.

Where does all this leave the European, incarnational Christian who knows that babies are babies no matter how un-intellectual they are; and that race does matter just as Christ’s incarnation matters? It leaves him on the outside fringes of the civilization built by his ancestors, who believed as he did about race and about God. And nothing will make the incarnational Christian an insider again. White Christian Europe is no more. It is no longer the eleventh hour; the clock has struck midnight. Antique Europeans are now a minority in a new Babylon.

To say I bleed and weep for the death of Christian Europe would be a gross understatement. I have no words to describe my feelings on the subject. But no amount of bleeding or weeping on my part will bring Europe back. Or will it? Is there really a distinction between the poetic realm and the practical realm? In the poetic realm, His realm, nothing that is eternal dies. So Europe still lives just as Professor Kirk’s old home in the country still lives:

“Why!” exclaimed Peter. “It’s England. And that’s the house itself—Professor Kirk’s old home in the country where all our adventures began!”

“I thought that house had been destroyed,” said Edmund.

“So it was,” said the Faun. “But you are now looking at the England within England, the real England just as this is the real Narnia. And in that inner England no good thing is destroyed.”

By declaring that eternal Europe still lives I am not in anyway trying to diminish the tragedy of the emergence of a new Babylon where Europe once was. But I am pointing out that there is no conflict between the practical measures a white European should pursue in order to cleanse his nation of liberals and barbarians and the poetic connection he should maintain to eternal Europe. The European must see the conflict in its entirety, as a war against principalities and powers. While doing everything he can in the temporal realm, he must realize that no matter how outwardly unsuccessful his efforts may seem it is of eternal significance that he remain faithful in his heart and soul to eternal Europe. Never abandon the white plume, because it is through the white plume of Europe that we stay connected to Christ. (1)

The neo-pagan, the conservative nationalist, and the liberal have all returned to the worship of Baal. The two former groups want to dispute turf rights with the barbarians of color while the later group wants to blend with them. But all three groups have left Christian Europe behind. The good Christian Duke and his loyal followers have been banished to the Forest of Arden, where they are beginning to learn that "Sweet are the uses of adversity..." It is better to stand with a few kindred spirits, or even to stand alone, than to worship the merciless gods of nature.

Love cannot be forced, and the sad fact is that the modern European detests the God whom his ancestors loved. One can try to excuse them by saying the churches misrepresented Christ and it is only the misrepresentation which the modern European hates. But the true face of Christ is present in the culture of the older white Europeans, and modern Europeans hate that culture. So we are faced with a tragedy. The Europeans were the true Jews, the faithful remnant who saw Christ and believed. Now they have become the pharisaical Jews who have hardened their hearts against Him. What chance does an incarnational Christian have against such implacable foes? Well, what chance did He have against the same foes? And are we not His people? Surely if we are as faithful to His Europe as Ratty is to the European river we will not be forsaken. (2) There is no ultimate conflict between practical truth and poetic truth; the two seemingly contradictory modes of existence are blended together in the beautiful poetry of the Christian faith, which begins in a lowly manger and ends in His heavenly Kingdom. +
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(1)

CYRANO. I can see him there -- he grins --
He is looking at my nose -- that skeleton--
What's that you say? Hopeless? -- Why, very well!
--But a man does not fight merely to win!
No -- no -- better to know one fights in vain!
...You there -- Who are you?
A hundred against one --I know them now, my ancient enemies--

[He lunges at the empty air.]
Falsehood! ... There! There! Prejudice -–
Compromise --Cowardice -- [Thrusting]

What's that? No! Surrender?

No! Never -- never!
... Ah, you too, Vanity!
I knew you would overthrow me in the end --
No! I fight on! I fight on! I fight on!
[He swings the blade in great circles, then pauses, gasping.
When he speaks again, it is in another tone.]
Yes, all my laurels you have riven away
And all my roses; yet in spite of you,
There is one crown I bear away with me,
And to-night, when I enter before God,
My salute shall sweep all the stars away
From the blue threshold! One thing without stain,
Unspotted from the world, in spite of doom
Mine own!—-
[He springs forward, his sword aloft.]

[The sword escapes from his hand; he totters, and
falls into the arms of LE BRET and RAGUENEAU.]

ROXANE. [Bends over him and kisses him on the forehead.] --That is...

CYRANO. [Opens his eyes and smiles up at her.]
My white plume...

(2)

“I beg your pardon,” said the Mole, pulling himself together with an effort. “You must think me very rude; but all this is so new to me. So—this—is—a—River!”
“The River,” corrected the Rat.
“And you really live by the river? What a jolly life!”
“By it and with it and on it and in it,” said the Rat. “It’s brother and sister to me, and aunts, and company, and food and drink, and (naturally) washing. It’s my world, and I don’t want any other. What it hasn’t got is not worth having, and what it doesn’t know is not worth knowing.”