Till the End of Time
There was the grass and there were the trees: ‘But what am I to do with them?’ said John. Next it came into his head that he might perhaps get the old feeling – for what, he thought, had the Island ever given him but a feeling? – by imagining. He shut his eyes and set his teeth again and made a picture of the Island in his mind: but he could not keep his attention on the picture because he wanted all the time to watch some other part of his mind to see if the feeling were beginning. But no feeling began: and then, just as he was opening his eyes he heard a voice speaking to him. It was quite close at hand, and very sweet, and not at all like the old voice of the wood. When he looked round he saw what he had never expected, yet he was not surprised. There in the grass beside him sat a laughing brown girl of about his own age, and she had no clothes on.
‘It was me you wanted,’ said the brown girl. ‘I am better than your silly Islands.’
And John rose and caught her, all in haste, and committed fornication with her in the wood.
-- The Pilgrim’s Regress by C. S. Lewis
In 1942 a movie came out called Son of Fury featuring the incredibly handsome actor Tyrone Power and the incredibly beautiful actress Gene Tierney. And unfortunately the movie was well done. It was unfortunate, because the movie was an anti-European-genre movie, a genre invented by Satan and perpetuated by such anti-European writers as Addison, Dryden, Voltaire and Rousseau. In the movie Power plays a disinherited (by his evil uncle) member of the English nobility. He goes to sea, jumps ship, and discovers a tropical island inhabited by simple, saintly natives. The hero falls in love with a native girl (played by Gene Tierney), but he has to go back to England to reclaim his inheritance and marry the white woman with whom he is also in love. With the aid of hundreds of rare pearls, given to him by the natives who have no need of them (being non-materialistic and virtuous because they are so close to nature), the hero returns to England. Once there, he beats his mean uncle to a bloody pulp and discovers that the white woman he thought he loved is really a money-worshipping, unnatural product of a decadent civilization. He then gives up his inheritance and returns to the wonderful, natural, brown people who really know how to live.
The noble savage myth was made more acceptable to the 1942-audience by the presence of a beautiful Caucasian woman playing the native girl. “See, they are just like us, only better, because they embody as an entire people the noble ideals that only a few of our noblest minds believe in.”
Of course now that the Son of Fury fantasy has become a dogma in church and state virtually every movie and book that comes into the theaters and off the presses is a Son of Fury fantasy. And now the message is not sanitized; the pure, uninhibited natives have free (Margaret Mead style) uninhibited sex with enlightened white people. The enlightened whites are generally, in the modern books and movies, women. The white males are all evil uncles now. The liberal has invented a word for Son of Fury ethics: the word is ‘diversity’, which we have come to learn means the worship of black people. The vast majority of European literary works prior to the 20th century were salvation plays. Men and women were participants in an eternal conflict between God and the devil. That spiritual struggle within the soul of the European was more exciting to a Christian European than an insipid sexual travelogue from a utopian brain. In Jane Austen’s novels, for instance, the characters seldom leave their upper and middle class houses, but there is genuine drama in the novels, the drama of human souls struggling to the light or falling prey to the wickedness and snares of the devil. There is nothing more interesting, to a man with a soul, than the eternal struggle – God, man, and the devil.
The Son of Fury fantasy is the fantasy of the white ruling class. And the obvious question we need to ask them is this: “If white people are so evil, why should the benevolent brown people want to mix their untainted, pure blood, with your evil white blood?” The liberal’s answer is that he and Atticus Finch have willed themselves beyond whiteness. By a mystical chemical reaction within their psyche (they don’t believe in the soul), they have made their white blood into colored blood. “So let the white blood bath commence; it has nothing to do with us.”
Our entire world, school and church, arts and entertainment, and the media perpetuate the Son of Fury fantasy. The all-pervasiveness of the refrain is unheralded in European history: “White is bad, the colored is good; white is bad, and the colored is good.” There is never an amen; it’s the refrain without end.
The European accepted Christianity as the true faith because a God of spirit and blood, the Christ, was a God to whom the European could bend his knee without being degraded. The blood of the Son of God made the sons of man something more than savages who worshipped the gods of blood and sex; it made them kith and kin to a Hero-God above the nature gods, a God that could be worshipped in spirit and truth.
The sexual fantasies of a few dried-up Western intellectuals have become the orthodox faith of the European people. Is the worship of the colored people a progression? If it is, we need to regress to Christian Europe. The wheel has come full circle; it was Christianity that gave the European science, and even the atheist Bertram Russell conceded that point. If there are no gods in nature, man can study nature and use the result of his studies for the benefit of mankind. But the conquest of nature institutionalized the Son of Fury fantasy. It allowed the Europeans, en masse, to believe that maybe they could achieve paradise on earth, a world without pain, a world of unlimited sexual pleasure. And what or who becomes the enemy of the new European? The God who elevated them above mere nature. Since He now stands in the way of utopia, He must be eliminated. As the wicked magician Uncle Andrew says of Aslan, “The first thing we must do is get rid of that brute.”
Christian Europeans and their God must be gotten rid of so the modern European can sail the good ship Liberaldom to the isle of the blessed brown and black people. It is useless to point out to the liberal that we have institutionalized racial and sexual Babylon. The contemporary Western world does not look like an enchanted isle, it looks like hell. The liberal is beyond reason; he is as blind with hatred and fear of the Christ as the demon-possessed swine in the Gospel.
Ernest Hemingway wrote one novel, The Old Man and the Sea, and made one statement which revealed he was not without a religious sensibility. He once said that whenever he wanted to be cheered up he read Shakespeare’s King Lear. For all his flaws, he showed himself with that comment to be above his fellow utopian Europeans. King Lear is the Christian’s answer to the utopian. “Life is suffering, there is no avoiding it, but there is redemption in suffering, and there is life eternal through, in, and with the God-Man of infinite love and compassion, if we endure.” That is the Christian, Shakespearean response to existence. The liberal’s response? “Christianity is pain. Eliminate Christianity and everybody and everything connected to it, and mankind will live a happy, pain-free, eternal life here on earth.” The two visions of existence are incompatible; the adherents to one will always be at war with the adherents of the other.
In rare isolated cases there are ‘road to Damascus’ conversions from utopian liberalism. But in the main, the battle lines are drawn. There will be no massive defections in the liberal army. Will there be defections within the ranks of the remnant band of Europeans? Possibly. But there will always be a few that will endure to the end. The great advantage of the liberal is that he promises sexual pleasure and freedom from pain. The great advantage of the antique European is that he has a vision of the living God, the God whose love passeth the pleasure of illicit sex and the ennui of an eternal, painless existence in the isle of lotus eaters.
Our entire modern world is based on the Son of Fury fantasy. Every form of civil and ecclesiastical power is used to enhance and solidify the dystopian, anti-European, anti-Christian view of existence. The image of a vast machine, the utopian machine, is an appropriate image for the modern state. Against that machine, the European of the old stock will fight to the end of time. For the hate of the liberal machine and the love of the God of Mercy is the lifeblood of the European. +