That Within Which Passeth Show

Suspend for the duration all your preconceived notions about Shakespeare received from literary critics and journalists. To understand a real poet, you must strip away all the layers of sludge from around your heart and let it respond to the poet. If we truly have souls, then we have a genuine heart, perhaps unknown to us, that can hear the poetic muse.

Let us meet the poet: he sees, not in a purely rational or clairvoyant sense, but in an intuitive poetic sense, that he stands on the threshold of a new world. This new world is not a better world. It is a world split apart by the Aristotleian-Thomistic separation of reason from grace. And the Protestant reaction to the break has not put the splintered wreck of the faith back together again. Henceforward, that pernicious heresy of the intellect divorced from the heart, the Gnostic heresy, would be a force to be reckoned with.

The poet saw the new force corrupting all of Europe. He saw a new Christianity, crafted onto the old Christianity. This new Christianity, spawned from the isolated intellect, was of necessity a dialectical faith. It set husband against wife, brother against brother, reason against grace, clergy against layman, and the heart against the intellect. In short, the poet saw the complete dislocation of man from the life of God. God would henceforth exist only as an intellectual construct. Man was on his own, left to intellectually conjugate God, but doomed never to know Him again.

But the Bard knew God. Giving his hero the name of his dead son, who was living (he firmly believed) in the arms of his Lord, the Bard launched Hamlet into the world to attack the Gnosticism of the new religion. But he wanted his hero to be a real hero. He wanted his hero to face the heresy of the age and of the future and to defeat that heresy.

Hamlet comes from the University, where students regularly have their heads severed from their hearts and souls. He suffers from the Gnostic disease himself and seems to be at a loss as to how to deal with the ill tidings he has received from his father's ghost. He is scared, confused, and angry. He is out of joint and not capable, as he acknowledges – "Oh cursed spite" – of setting things right.

But by the end of the play he does set things right. How? Because Hamlet loves. If one looks only at external events, Hamlet is a murderer, a usurper, and a cad who drives a young woman to suicide. But we who have followed Hamlet through the maze know differently. Hamlet loved his noble father; those pseudo-theologians who tell us that Hamlet is damned for following the vengeful dictates of his father fail to see how the Ghost's injunctions differ from mere pagan blood-letting ("Leave her to heaven") just as they fail to see how nature and grace blend together in a Christian soul.

Likewise Hamlet loves his mother in more than just the Freudian sense. And Ophelia? Is it possible to doubt that he loved her? No! It is at Ophelia's grave that Hamlet finally puts his own fragmented soul together: "This is I, Hamlet the Dane."

And when Hamlet walks out alone to fight a duel that he knows will mean death, he does so because he accepts that --

[T]there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now, yet it will come: the readiness is all: since no man knows aught of what he leaves, what is't to leave betimes? Let be.

The reason Hamlet has held such fascination over the years for the general audience and for the literary critic is that he is the first stage hero to confront modernity. Thus the literary critic will delight in dissecting the 'sicko' who defies modernity, and the base, common populace will champion or condemn Hamlet depending on how far down the modern slope they have traveled.
But let us not have any doubt that it is modernity which Hamlet confronts in the person of Claudius. Claudius is the post-Christian man, the precursor of the anti-Christ. He knows the ways of God, he can ape the good well enough to fool even the elect, but his heart and soul are at the service of the devil.

It is significant that Hamlet, who is a genius, cannot move successfully against Claudius until he ceases to try to combat him with only his own genius. When he gives himself up to Divine Providence and acts in the fullness of his personality as King and son, he defeats Claudius. And between his discovery of his uncles' treachery and his death, Hamlet gives us the definitive refutation of modernity. Remember when Rosencrantz and Guildendstern, acting for Claudius, try to exploit their former friendship with Hamlet in order to "pluck out the heart of his mystery"? Hamlet finds them out with ease and speaks not only to them, but to Claudius and all psychotherapists, neoclassicists, formalist theologians, and Gnostics of the modern world when he enjoins them to "play upon the pipe."

Hamlet. Will you play upon this Pipe?

Guildenstern. My Lord, I cannot.

Ham. I pray you.

Guild. Believe me, I cannot.

Ham. I do beseech you.

Guild. I know no touch of it, my Lord.

Ham. 'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your finger and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most excellent Music. Look you, these are the stops.

Guild. But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony, I have not the skill.

Ham. Why look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me: you would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops: you would pluck out the heart of my
Mystery; you would sound me from my lowest Note, to the top of my Compass: and
there is much Music, excellent Voice, in this little Organ, yet cannot you make it. Why do you think, that I am easier to be play'd on than a Pipe? Call me what
Instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.

Yes, only the heart can know the mystery of another heart. To the intellect alone, the heart remains an enigma. Horatio, whose philosophy is inadequate, still has enough heart to pronounce the correct benediction for his friend and King.

Now cracks a noble heart. –good night, sweet prince;And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!—

Shakespeare sets the stage for us. The Gnostics will always be at war with the God-Man. They hate, like Satan, anything that is tainted with humanity. So above all, they hate the Incarnation and the civilization that placed the Incarnate God at its center. What Shakespeare tells us in the conflict between Claudius and Hamlet is that we cannot defeat the Claudiuses of the world if we are like unto them. It cannot be brain against brain, Moriarity against Holmes. It must be the integral, heroic man of heart and blood against the disembodied, heartless, bloodless villain – it must be Hamlet vs. Claudius, Tell vs. Gessler, Bulldog Drummond vs. Peterson, and the Scarlet Pimpernel vs. Chauvelin.

The bloodless, chestless men will always be with us. They are the waste products of a Christian civilization; but they should not be at the center of our culture. It is the duty of white Europeans to push them back to the dark fringes of civilization.

Hamlet curses the day that he was "born to set it right." But he ultimately accepts his destiny and he does set it right. The white European hero culture is Hamlet's culture. It is our culture, and it is His culture. We are called to defend it against the white technocrat, the colored hordes, and against all the forces of hell.

The Whiteman Unchained – Breaking the Chains of Democracy

There was an excellent article published in Middle American News (April 2007) by Chilton Williamson, Jr., titled “Our Rulers Are Choosing a New People.” Mr. Williamson’s point was that the reason our rulers do nothing about the Mexican invasion is because they want a new, nonwhite populace that will be “more docile, more pliant, more rulable.” He makes the distinction between a people with a tradition of government and a tradition of being ruled: “suffice it to note here that the Third World immigrants, coming as they do from ungovernable countries, are themselves ungovernable. And being ungovernable, they can only be ruled – unlike the majority of the U. S. population, which can still remember what real government is like, and should be.”

Mr. Williamson is certainly correct in his assessment. So wither do we go and what do we do? Magazines like Middle American News and The Truth At Last usually confine themselves to getting the information about the Third World invasion out to the public. It is helpful to get the information, but unfortunately the writers for these various publications have no solutions to suggest other than political ones. They want us to vote for anti-immigration candidates and to write protest letters and sign petitions. Those type of measures work when those who govern have not declared your race of people as non-people, but when you have been declared a non-person no candidate will be permitted to run who represents your interests and no letter you write or petition you sign will be taken seriously. There is no solution to the white man’s dilemma within the confines of democratic government.

When I was growing up my civic teachers were fond of repeating the quote, “Democracy is a terrible form of government, but all the others are so much worse.” But experience gives the lie to that oft-repeated assertion. I have no romantic attachment to the age of hereditary monarchies. The monarchial eras were depressing spectacles of bloody reign changes and bloody wars, but there was nowhere near the bloodshed in the monarchial wars as there was in the democratic wars, and no matter which side won, puritan or cavalier, at the end the nation remained white and Christian.

Now, we can’t suddenly turn a switch and go back to a non-Parliamentary, hereditary monarchy (even though I am a direct descendant of Charlemagne and am willing to take the job), but we can start thinking about working outside the framework of democratic government.

Democratic government is no longer a means to an end in the countries of the West. It is the end. Democratic government is the secular Zion that all mankind is supposed to be moving towards, but George Fitzhugh’s caveat should be heeded: “We are the friend of popular government, but only so long as conservatism is the interest of the governing class.” In the Northern part of our nation it is doubtful if conserving (and what else is there to conserve but Christian civilization) was ever the goal of the governing class. And in the Southern half of our country, conservatism ceased to be the interest after Reconstruction ended. During Reconstruction, the white ruling class was an unrecognized ruling class, but it was still a white Christian ruling class. But the unfortunate re-enfranchisement made the Southerners subject to the very un-conservative Northern governing class. That class’s complete triumph was completed during the ‘integration by bayonet era’ of the 1950’s and 1960’s.

Even if one disagrees with me about when our ruling class ceased to be conservative, and of course I use ‘conservative’ in the European sense of the word, not in the liberal capitalist sense, he surely must see that at the present date our ruling class has ceased to be conservative. And he must see, as Chilton Williamson has pointed out, that white Christians are the enemies of the American ruling class. They have declared war on us.

Now, of course we don’t have the power to mount a conventional war against the reigning American oligarchy, but we can start looking at ourselves as a conquered people under alien rule. It is ironic that the most law-abiding people in the United States, Christian white people, should also be the most disenfranchised. This has to stop. We are certainly more disenfranchised then the men who screamed, “Taxation without representation is tyranny.” And yet we fly the flag and obey the law. White people should not serve in the capitalist military, they should not honor the capitalist flag, and they should seek to undermine every major institution of American culture by any means at their disposal. They must stop being passive observers of the American oligarchy’s atrocities. The abortion issue is a case in point: I fully support the actions of Paul Hill, the preacher who shot an abortion doctor and his assistant as they walked to their jobs at the abortuary. However, very few of us have the courage for that type of martyrdom. I know I don’t. But there are plenty of things one can do, if one steps outside the parameters of the democratic oligarchy, to undermine the ruling class, although we do have to divest ourselves of the notion that it is white people who must obey the law.

In my twenties (I’m in my fifties now), I was a member of a group of people who met in front of an abortion clinic to protest what was going on in the clinic. Near the clinic was a bench with an advertisement for Planned Parenthood. A member of our group remarked that the advertisement was disgusting. And of course we all agreed with him. I then made a tactical error. I told the leader of our group, a dignified elderly gentleman, that I planned on coming back in the evening and destroying the bench. He was horrified. “You shouldn’t break the law,” he intoned, and he informed me he would report me to the police if I did. Do you see a disconnect there? After centuries of “abiding by the law,” white people have an instinctive horror of doing anything outside the law, even if that law has severed all ties to Christ and bound itself to Satan.

Once we divest ourselves of the notion that obeying the law is an absolute good, a whole vista of opportunities opens up in regard to protecting our borders and in protecting our homes. It took the Spaniards 770 years to rid their country of the Moslems, who are now returning. But they made a vow that they would “fight to the knife.” We need to take a similar vow.

Shakespeare is the supreme poet of the West. He speaks to us still, reaching out over the years as if the years were only a few short days. In Hamlet he depicts a young King, a legitimate King, who has a quite natural horror of shedding human blood. But as the full meaning of kingship and kinship comes upon him, he courageously, despite augury, does what needs to be done. He realizes that he cannot turn to anyone else to “set it right.” He is the legitimate king. If he won’t fight for legitimacy, who will?

And so it is with the white Christian remnant. We are the legitimate heirs of the civilization of Europe. If we won’t fight for it, who will?

Again, a direct military confrontation is out of the question. But a commitment to look beyond the confines of democratic government is a necessity. If anti-immigration candidates appear, we can certainly support them. But ultimately, it is not from the ruling, democratic oligarchy that we can get help. We will remain a conquered people if we expect aid from that quarter.

None of us know exactly where the lines of our will and God’s grace meet, but one thing is certain: If we don’t venture forth against the dragon, God cannot aid us in the battle. So far, the multi-cultural dragon is undefeated because he has yet to be challenged. I refuse to believe he is invincible.

‘Tis the Time’s Plague

I am against the Bill Kristol-George Bush war for reasons I have stated often enough. And call me irresponsible, I do not subscribe to the “It was wrong to start with, but now we must not leave,” philosophy. Shedding more Iraqi blood and sacrificing more American blood will not magically make wrong right. Besides, we have a real enemy on our border that has declared war on the United States. Why not, if you’re going to ask soldiers to risk their lives, ask them to risk their lives in defense of their homeland, instead of corporate American’s bragging rights in the Middle East?

Although against the current war, I am not, like the late John Paul II and the Quakers, a pacifist. I do believe there are times when a Christian must kill. But I am in disagreement with the modern, post-Christian justifications for the shedding of blood. The moderns, such as George Bush, believe as Robespierre believed, that if blood is shed in the name of democracy and liberty, the men who shed that blood are absolved from all guilt. I’ll go further. They believe that they have performed a holy act and are beyond the ken of mortal men who do not have the courage or vision to perform such sanctified massacres.

Well, ‘tis the time’s plague when madmen lead the blind. There is currently no Christian organization in existence that wants to give genuine guidance on the important question: When should a Christian kill? The Catholics are Quakers, the Protestants are all over the board, and Catholic traditionalists take the Muslim view of war – kill them all.

Nor are the old Catholic catechisms any help in deciding the difficult question of when a Christian should kill, because they all assume conditions which no longer exist – a sound Church and a moral government – and hence, prohibit an individual taking arms against the state or involving himself in acts of private retribution. But in the absence of Christian government, following the old catechisms, which are based on Aquinas, means there can be no counter-revolutions and no justice against those who prey on the innocent, such as state-sanctioned abortion doctors and black murderers.

As always, it is the Christian poets to whom we can turn for guidance. Hamlet is faced with a situation analogous to that facing a modern European and the modern European America. Hamlet has only an abstracted faith with which to face a situation that calls for a real faith. He must face what Miguel de Unamuno called the agony of Christianity: he must either become human by following the way of the cross or forever remain in the rank of the Gnostics, who would play upon man as if he were a musical instrument.

Hamlet. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and
there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. ‘Sblood, do you think that I am easier to be play’d on that a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.

And later, Hamlet, having made his declaration to the world, “This is I, Hamlet, the Dane,” shows us that it doesn’t matter whether the augurers are right in their predictions. A Christian doesn’t heed them. His duty is determined by what’s in his blood and his heart, and he must do his duty in spite of dungeon, fire, sword, and augury. Therein lies the great Christianity of Hamlet. And as a Christian, Hamlet fights and kills because the treacherous sword of the Gnostics is “unbated and evenom’d” with that which kills not only the body but the soul as well.

We should note that Shakespeare presents the conflict as it is really played out in modern life. Claudius has the Catholic Faith, if mere adherence to outward forms counts as having the Faith. But the Christian hero, having stripped the false layers of Gnostic skin from his own soul, recognizes the evil beneath Claudius’ pious exterior. The Poloniuses of the world who have settled for a false view of existence do not have the ability to recognize evil; hence, they side with men who are evil but who have achieved success in the Darwinian jungle, for that is the only objective standard they have. And when there is no longer a hero who can recognize evil and fight it, we have a situation analogous to present day America and Europe.

The English author P. C. Wren is anti-modern because he takes the concept of the hero seriously. His heroes are not anti-heroes. Wren often places his heroes in situations where an evil person is able to wreak havoc because conventional society has lost the ability to identify evil. In Beggars’ Horses, Captain Bartholomew Hazelrigg is faced with a dilemma that would force the computer-trained brains of modern, moral theologians to combust. A thoroughly evil woman has murdered, maimed and destroyed a great number of men who have gotten in the way of her evil designs. Yet conventional society regards the woman as the paragon of virtue. Only Hazelrigg knows what she is and what she is still capable of doing if she is not stopped. He arranges to meet the woman on the moor one day and quickly ends her career in crime.

In The Man the Devil Didn’t Want, also by Wren, the hero of the novel is faced, like Hazelrigg, with a villainous antagonist whose villainy has not been recognized by conventional society. He is a murderer and a blackmailer. The hero of the novel forces the villain into the Foreign Legion and then takes him into the desert.

“Yrotavál,” said I, you attempted to murder me yesterday. Silence! You are doing something worse than murder to my brother. You have driven him to insanity, perhaps suicide. You actually did murder Corporal Bjelavitch and Sergeant Paggallini, and by your own account you have murdered other men. Any Court of Law before which you were tried would convict you and sentence you to death. I am now going to take the Law into my own hands. I sentence you to death.”

“It is murder!” shouted Yrotavál, as I drew my revolver from its holster.

“Silence! Stand back!” And I leveled my revolver at his face. “Murder or not, I’m going to kill you—as you tried to kill me.”

“You can’t prove…” began Yrotavál, his voice high and hoarse.

“No, I can’t. Though I know it; and you know it. But I am not killing you for that. I…”

“It is murder! Murder…” screamed Yrotavál. “You talk about me being a murderer and…”

“Murder or execution, Yrotavál, I’m going to kill you now… Even if it brings me down to your level. I have warned you. I have tried to stop you. You’ve been blackmailing my brother again…”

“It’s a lie. It’s a lie. I haven’t written a word since…”

“That’s enough. I know that you have. It was you who persuaded him to sham blindness and you’ve blackmailed him ever since.”

“It’s a lie. He began it. He asked me to sham deaf and dumb and…”

“You yourself admitted that it was your idea. You yourself admitted blackmailing him and…”

“I stopped. I stopped when you…”

“About turn!” I roared, and, so strong was the habit of years, the force of mechanical instinct, that Yrotavál almost instantly obeyed.

Should I bid him kneel? Should I bid him pray?

Yrotavál kneel! Yrotavál pray! I thought of Luke. I thought of Rosanne—and pulled the trigger.

With a convulsive jerk and jump he fell forward. Placing the muzzle of my revolver to his ear, I shot him again.

With the entrenching tools I made a shallow grave, thrust his body into it, shoveled the earth and gravel back into the hole, and covered the place with large loose stones.

I was cool, nay cold, collected in mind and calm in spirit.

Having finished my task, I marched back to the poste, taking with me the light pick and shovel.

On the way, I visited the sentry-groups posted to guard the passage of the water-fatigue party to the stream.

“Did you hear a shot?” I asked Corporal Mallen, the American tough guy and Bad Man, for whom I had much admiration and a high regard.

“Sure, Sergeant,” he said. “Two.”

“Legionaire Yrotavál has been shot,” I informed him.

Corporal Mallen appeared to bear the bad news bravely.

“Isn’t that just too bad!” he said.

As I
turned away and he saluted, a smile flickered for an instant across his grim
face.

--from The Man the Devil Didn’t Want by P. C. Wren

In reading both accounts of the killing of a human being, my heart soared. Why? The obvious answer would be that I am a heartless, bloodthirsty brut. Well, the reader is entitled to his opinion, but that is not really the reason. My heart soared within me because Wren depicts so well the type of Christianity I believe in. I believe that charity demands sometimes that we must kill. And we cannot hide behind catechisms or social conventions to excuse us from our duty. It sickens me to see the old fairy tales being written without the traditional destruction of the villain at the end. This robs the tale of its Christian content. Evil is real, the devil is the source of it, and human beings, of their own free will, do his bidding. Such individuals must be confronted and in some cases, killed. Charity demands it. Such, I believe, is the express command of our Christian Faith. I will have no part of a Christianity that denies that central charitable tenet.