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The Secret People

Smile at us, pay us, pass us; but do not quite forget;
For we are the people of England, that never have spoken yet.
There is many a fat farmer that drinks less cheerfully,
There is many a free French peasant who is richer and sadder than we.
There are no folk in the whole world so helpless or so wise.
There is hunger in our bellies, there is laughter in our eyes;
You laugh at us and love us, both mugs and eyes are wet:
Only you do not know us. For we have not spoken yet.
The fine French kings came over in a flutter of flags and dames.
We liked their smiles and battles, but we never could say their names.
The blood ran red to Bosworth and the high French lords went down;
There was naught but a naked people under a naked crown.
And the eyes of the King’s Servants turned terribly every way,
And the gold of the King’s Servants rose higher every day.
They burnt the homes of the shaven men, that had been quaint and kind,
Till there was no bed in a monk’s house, nor food that man could find.
The inns of God where no man paid, that were the wall of the weak.
The King’s Servants ate them all. And still we did not speak.

And the face of the King’s Servants grew greater than the King:
He tricked them, and they trapped him, and stood round him in a ring.
The new grave lords closed round him, that had eaten the abbey’s fruits,
And the men of the new religion, with their bibles in their boots,
We saw their shoulders moving, to menace or discuss,
And some were pure and some were vile; but none took heed of us.
We saw the King as they killed him, and his face was proud and pale;
And a few men talked of freedom, while England talked of ale.

A war that we understood not came over the world and woke
Americans, Frenchmen, Irish; but we knew not the things they spoke.
They talked about rights and nature and peace and the people’s reign:
And the squires, our masters, bade us fight; and scorned us never again.
Weak if we be for ever, could none condemn us then;
Men called us serfs and drudges; men knew that we were men.
In foam and flame at Trafalgar, on Albuera plains,
We did and died like lions, to keep ourselves in chains,
We lay in living ruins; firing and fearing not
The strange fierce face of the Frenchmen who knew for what they fought,
And the man who seemed to be more than a man we strained against and broke;
And we broke our own rights with him. And still we never spoke.

Our patch of glory ended; we never heard guns again.
But the squire seemed struck in the saddle; he was foolish, as if in pain,
He leaned on a staggering lawyer, he clutched a cringing Jew,
He was stricken; it may be, after all, he was stricken at Waterloo.
Or perhaps the shades of the shaven men, whose spoil is in his house,
Come back in shining shapes at last to spoil his last carouse:
We only know the last sad squires rode slowly towards the sea,
And a new people takes the land: and still it is not we.

They have given us into the hand of new unhappy lords,
Lords without anger or honour, who dare not carry their swords.
They fight by shuffling papers; they have bright dead alien eyes;
They look at our labour and laughter as a tired man looks at flies.
And the load of their loveless pity is worse than the ancient wrongs,
Their doors are shut in the evening; and they know no songs.

We hear men speaking for us of new laws strong and sweet,
Yet is there no man speaketh as we speak in the street.
It may be we shall rise the last as Frenchmen rose the first,
Our wrath come after Russia’s wrath and our wrath be the worst.
It may be we are meant to mark with our riot and our rest
God’s scorn for all men governing. It may be beer is best.
But we are the people of England; and we have not spoken yet.
Smile at us, pay us, pass us. But do not quite forget.
Gilbert Keith Chesterton

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Chesterton here parallels a thought I had this morning: that we bring home from war our enemies’ habits of thought, speech, and action. We become like him. We become him. We think of him as prizes of war, as Romans did of slaves and bounty their legions brought home paraded before them. But is that really the case? For whom is the Triumph actually a triumph?

CIA brings home the Gestapo, now rules our country from a position of nearly complete anonymity. Armed Forces bring home German efficiency, and recently, Middle Eastern hot-heads. Industrialists later bring home Japanese efficiency. GIs bring home viral and bacterial diseases as well as displaced persons of uncertain character from tropical and non-hygienic countries and regions of countries. Clintons / Wellstones fill the country with Somalis after Operation Gothic Serpent. Electronics and computer corporations bring home Chinese Communist capture-and-confine shamelessness, desires, and techniques.

Cut to the bone. Everything for production efficiency. Out with the clans, in with the sheep. Nothing for persons, unless you own the sheep. This is industrial life. Mann, a Yankee, brought it home from Germany and got it made mandatory schooling tooling of American children. Clergy industrialized the churches and synagogues on the German model: Sunday / Sabbath School: memorize this and you are a good Christian / Jew.

Solicited immigrants brought here significant microbial and social diseases, such as Italian, Russian, Jewish, Irish, Chinese, French, and Afro-Carib organized crime families and their totalitarian attitudes. Now, USG bring home South American, Middle Eastern, and Caribbean organized crime families and prison / ghetto populations, and their totalitarian attitudes and social customs, to the lascivious pleasing of CFR and The US Chamber (wages, votes, confusion during Great Reset for Fourth Industrial Revolution). Airlines brought here AIDS from Africa and helped bring here Wuhan as well as many other viruses of Chinese origin, Communist and otherwise, over the years.

You are what you eat, the saying goes. That includes who you bring home for supper with the family. Yes, do not quite forget. Meanwhile, in your locale, replace the public school with the homeschool at the center of your system of education. Revere the Homeschool. Respect the five Professional Guilds. This will solve the problem. And mothers, teach your children daily to ask God to make them persons of good character, and do the same for yourself.

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COVID-19 a Pandemic of Fear ‘Manufactured’ by Authorities: Yale Epidemiologist Dr. Harvey Risch

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If you tell your son, when you are actually at home, to reply on the phone saying ‘father is not at home’, you are sowing a poisonous seed, which will become a huge tree. Parents set bad examples uttering falsehood, scandalising others, gambling, drinking, behaving violently, inflicting injury, becoming addicted to night-clubs, movies and drinking parties, and quarrelling at home after arriving home past midnight. How can children, used to such low sights and sounds, learn to become bright, fresh fragrant flowers of the Sanatana Garden of India? Many such parents do not allow their children to join the Bal Vikas Classes, or to attend bhajans and satsangs. They say that religion and God are only for idlers or old senile people, and that the path will lead them on to sanyas (mendicancy), which is a calamity to be avoided! They reverse the very values of life. Parents must correct themselves before they try to correct their children.