Category: Politics

Remember, remember…Guy Fawkes Foiled!

‘The Discovery of the Gunpowder Plot and the Taking of Guy Fawkes’ by Henry Perronet Briggs 1832

Remember, remember…

Guido ‘Guy’ Fawkes was not a hero from a comic, not a face to be worn by the anonymous.  He was a Papist.  In 1605 along with 13 conspirators he attempted to blow up King James I at his state opening at the Houses of Parliament.  Fawkes aimed to return England to the governance of Rome and the King of Spain.  Just 50 years earlier, 300 protestants had been burned to the death for heresy against the pope, during Queen Mary’s purge. No doubt the scourge of  ‘Bloody’ Mary was still strong in the minds of the English.

Bloody Mary lit a few bonfires of her own.

Bloody Mary lit a few bonfires of her own.

England had been thrown into conflict between Papists and Protestants since Henry VIII, but the fact remains, the Purges of Bloody Mary, against layman and commoners, deserved a heavy handed response.  The protestant reformation, as harsh as it was,  placed  the British Isles under British control and away from Europe.  The judgement against those who would have seen Britain bow to foreign masters sent a strong message.

Foiled in his plot, Fawkes was tortured, hanged and quartered, his parts being sent to the four corners of the land.

penny for the guy

Penny for the Guy

Now every fifth of November,  the British mark the occasion with ‘Bonfire night’.  Although the tradition of ‘A Penny For The Guy’ is waning, children still create a grotesque likeness of Fawkes and wheel him about the town, collecting money from those who would give it, before burning him atop the bonfire that evening.

As per tradition, folk will be lighting fireworks, eating and drinking, playing music and enjoying what would seem to all outside viewers to be a perfectly nice Pagan celebration.  Deep in our primordial souls, I believe we are happiest when celebrating around a fire with friends, and need little reason for it.  If one has to have a reason though, this is a good one.

Tonight,  across Albion, bonfires will be lit and effigies of Guy Fawkes burned. Let the story of Britain’s traitor be told, not in whispers, but with pride.  While children warm themselves in the glow,  let there be a chill in the spines of those who plot still.

Remember, remember…

Photograph © Andrew Dunn, 5 November 2005.

Photograph © Andrew Dunn, 5 November 2005.

Remember, remember!
The fifth of November,
The Gunpowder treason and plot;
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!
Guy Fawkes and his companions
Did the scheme contrive,
To blow the King and Parliament
All up alive.
Threescore barrels, laid below,
To prove old England’s overthrow.
But, by God’s providence, him they catch,
With a dark lantern, lighting a match!
A stick and a stake
For King James’s sake!
If you won’t give me one,
I’ll take two,
The better for me,
And the worse for you.
A rope, a rope, to hang the Pope,
A penn’orth of cheese to choke him,
A pint of beer to wash it down,
And a jolly good fire to burn him.
Holloa, boys! holloa, boys! make the bells ring!
Holloa, boys! holloa boys! God save the King!
Hip, hip, hooor-r-r-ray!

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The White Dragon stirs as the Brexit occurs.

The Cunning Rustic raises an imperial pint for the Brexit.

I promise that I won’t bombard you with political posts on this blog.  We all get weary of the constant nails on the media chalkboard, especially in an election year.  Modern politics are generally a shallow affair and beneath the loftier ideals of the Cunning Rustic.  That said, the potential blow to globalism delivered by the Brexit vote, gives me cause to smile.

The idea of the ‘Brexit’ engages me, although I left England many years ago.   I have never known an England that wasn’t in the European Union.  I grew up with the grumblings of silly laws from Brussels regulating against the abnormal curvature of Bananas.  Years later we would see the ‘Metric Martyrs’, like Steve Thoburn, those traditional market stallholders who fought against the EU enforced conversion from imperial weights and measures to metric, only to be arrested and heavily fined.

It is of interest to see how the areas of the UK voted.  Scotland and N. Ireland wished to remain and there are already talks of referendums for their departure from the Kingdom.  The Scots had a shot at it recently and decided for economic reasons to stay in the UK, but now, the Scots may decide for economic reasons to leave and yoke themselves with the continent.  How I wish the Scots would make these decisions based on their desire to retain their own beautiful and rich culture, rather than fiddling with their purse-strings.  As for the folks of Northern Ireland, that wound runs deep and its scabs picked daily, we shall have to see if this presents a new opportunity for the bold sons and daughters of Cú Chulainn.

The White Dragon leads the way

The White Dragon leads the way

Of all 9 voting areas of England, only London, wished to remain.  Although this was called the Brexit, it was really a statement by the English (with a tip of the hat to our Welsh cousins who also voted to leave). The White Dragon is the point of the spear, and already other European countries are ready to follow.

David Rennie, the Washington bureau chief of The Economist magazine decried the vote as being led by an “Older, Whiter, Less Educated” rural population.   Of course, what he could have said was ‘The English’.  Those inhabiting the countryside, who have paid their dues, failed to adhere to the indoctrination of the city schools and have seen the descent of our values and culture.  The fear of  economic collapse wasn’t enough to scare the English. The postwar generation lived on rationing until the 1950’s, and know how to survive it, we call it ‘Blitz Spirit’.  One interesting point is that young farmers didn’t want to remain either, as they saw the EU as curtailing the freedom to farm the way they want to .  The Cunning Rustic knows in his heart, that a good steak is only as far away as the pasture.  Bankers know they can’t eat paper and gold.

Economies rise and fall, but The Cunning Rustic cares not. It matters only to those who worship at the altar of commerce.  The sun will rise and the sun will set. The master of the factory worries about his numbers in his books, but sheep still walk the hillside and oaks still grow in the grove. Perhaps it is not an entirely bad thing to watch our wallets a little more, to learn that we can do without so many channels of television, and learn the joys of singing around the fireplace, or to barter with the fruits of our labour rather than counting copper.

Today, England spit in the eye of globalism.  A spear was cast and a Saxon Shieldwall is forming as they prepare for the retaliation.  We Cunning Rustics hope that others follow suit.  We know there will be consequences, and we know the secret of  three very powerful words.

We. Don’t. Care.

INF3_1368

John Bull

 

 

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