All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
Despite the coming of the New Year, we are far from done with Christmas and its magic. Indeed, the Twelve Days land us on the Epiphany―the day of the Three Kings―and the season continues more or less merrily along until Candlemas on February 2. It is one of the few things remaining in our society that the vast majority of people can still find common rejoicing in―however obscure its origins and meaning may have been made by the dominant circles in that society. One is still reminded that “the King of Kings salvation brings,” even as―in America, anyway―the Christmas decorations are stripped away in stores and replaced with St. Valentine’s Day hearts. The immense varieties of Christmas customs in the various nations and regions of the world at once underline the distinctiveness of each and yet their union in observing the birth of Our Saviour in their own particular ways. It really can be no surprise that in assembling the 21 volumes of The Enchanted World, a sort of encyclopaedia of global folklore, the editors of Time-Life Books gave Christmas its own book―the only holiday to get one.
This enchanted time, dedicated to the birth of a King at once Heavenly and Earthly, has a great many Monarchical overtones, not least because of Christ’s Royal status. The Three Kings who visited him are enshrined in Cologne’s cathedral; their secondary place of veneration is their longtime shrine at Milan’s Sant’ Eustorgio basilica. Indeed, the Epiphany itself has been a feast much loved by Royalty. As Dom Gueranger puts it,
The race of Emperors like Julian and Valens was to be followed by Monarchs, who would bend their knee before this Babe of Bethlehem, and offer him the homage of orthodox faith and devoted hearts. Theodosius, Charlemagne, our own Alfred the Great and Edward the Confessor, Stephen of Hungary, the Emperor Henry II, Ferdinand of Castile, Louis IX of France are examples of Kings who had a special devotion to the Feast of the Epiphany. Their ambition was to go, in company with the Magi, to the feet of the Divine Infant, and offer him their gifts. At the English Court, the custom is still retained, and the reigning Sovereign offers an ingot of Gold as a tribute of homage to Jesus the King of Kings; the ingot is afterwards redeemed by a certain sum of money.
Indeed, even to-day, the sending of the three gifts to the Chapel Royal to be blessed with is as much a part of King Charles III’s observances as his Christmas speech and the trip to Sandringham church.
The latter part of January presents the anniversary of Louis XVI’s murder on January 21, the feast of Bl. Charlemagne on January 28, and, for Anglicans, the murder of Charles I on January 30, which are reminders of both the triumph and tragedy of Christian Monarchy. Here we see Charlemagne, father of Europe and first Holy Roman Emperor, sandwiched between two men who died for the very ideal of Kingship, the triumphant Frank exhibited a leadership deriving its authority from God and the Church, wielded according to traditional laws, and in itself contradicting the kind of leadership―grasping, ignorant, cowardly, and bloodthirsty―that dominates the World to-day.
The Romantic impulse is to look back at the Monarchs of yore, such as those cited by Dom Gueranger, and reflect on how many, from Britain’s King Arthur to Charlemagne to Portugal’s King Sebastian, are seen in the folklore of their peoples as being ready to return in messianic fashion when most needed by their erstwhile subjects. No less an author than J.R.R. Tolkien made such a return or restoration key to the plot of his Lord of the Rings. Aragorn, for so long the wandering heir to the glorious throne in the style of Bonnie Prince Charlie, wins at last and in a Charlemagne-like style, begins the restoration of a world wrecked by evil. It is a vision that has been acted out several times in history and is deeply rooted in the human psyche. Looking at the moral and mental midgets in charge of things to-day, one could hardly be blamed for wanting such a thing in our time.
At this point, one might look at our current royals―whether presiding over crowned republics or else attempting to live in a tragic zone caught between their ancestral roles and their forceful exile from public life―look at their heroic forebears, and declare that the sons have fallen far from their fathers, as might be said of many of the nobility of many countries. However, this prescinds from a number of realities. Reigning royals have been trained to believe that the political oligarchy is the voice of the people, just as the voice of the people is that of God. For one of these to go so far as to cross ‘his’ government would be unthinkable, especially as the majority of ‘his’ subjects would probably believe the politicians’ views of events, as has happened in Sweden in 1914 and Denmark in 1920. As for those out of governmental office, the fates of Louis XVI, Charles I, Nicholas II, and Bl. Karl cannot help but remind them of the price of failure. Even if, as with Bonnie Prince Charlie, they emerged with their lives whole and intact, they would have lost all that they have, often painstakingly built up in their private lives. And for what?
The sad truth is that, as with the British Isles in 1660, France in 1815, and Spain in 1975, Restorations are tricky business and rarely survive for very long. Then, as James II and Charles X found out, there lies the long road back into exile. With Spain, of course, the Monarchy has held on so far, but to-day has a socialist prime minister who is happy to exchange the pardon of ongoing treason in return for power. Why would any sane person want to go that route?
To be sure, the entire power structure is stacked against any Monarch who would either regain his ancestral lands or else preside over them, as the president does over our United States. It is entirely impractical, a species of LARPing, is it not, to imagine, let alone hope, that we might ever be ruled by something better than what we have?
Perhaps. But Christmas is the season of miracles and of hope for things not usually granted. In every European country there is certainly a good deal of pro-Monarchist sentiment, sometimes because of reasons, sometimes out of tradition, and often due to both. Whether one belongs to an outright Monarchist group, observes the various re-enactments of older and possibly better times, is a regular communicant at a church whose long-term Royal patronage has left concrete signs, is part of an organisation founded under Imperial or Royal aegis, has served in a military unit created under such conditions, or whatever the case may be, there is a large body of sentiment in favour of the throne out there. But the trick is transforming that sentiment into a cause believed in by a creative and intense minority. That transformation would seem to require the intense interest of the heir to the throne.
The problem, however, is that so many Monarchists are indeed dreamers and romantics, when we are not seekers after titles and knighthoods. As opposed to the current leadership, who, however disgusting they may be, are nevertheless entrenched in power, Monarchists often seem, even to those whose cause they espouse, as unrealistic even to the point of insanity. To take command of such material and attempt a true change of system with it would require an incredible amount of heroism from the respective heir. While heroism is indeed a wonderful thing, we have no right to demand it of anyone save ourselves. God alone has the right to ask any heir to try to play the role of Aragorn; we may not.
And yet, and yet. As Soros and Putin circle the globe like punch-drunk fighters, the spectre of nuclear war looms. How long things can go on this way is not a question that can be answered; that it is impossible to continue indefinitely is certain. If nothing better occurs to supplant the current system, it will collapse, and something else shall arise from it. It is impossible to forecast from the current cast of players what it might be and what part, in Europe, any struggle between native Europeans and Muslims might play. But in all likelihood, it will feature some sort of despotism.
In 1920, Hilaire Belloc foretold that either Britain, having lost its aristocracy, would either descend into anarchy or regain an affective Monarchy:
But if in the alternative Monarchy comes, it may come in any one of a thousand ways—through the unexpected development of a new institution, or of an old institution, or through the resurrection of a dead institution. It may come (and that would be the best way, because the most continuous) through the return to power of what is now an Hereditary House. Or it may come through an elective machinery. Or it may come through the accidental popularity of one man in some important crisis of the commonwealth or in any other way.
Now, Belloc was speaking here of Britain alone, and his idea of Monarchy encompassed such self-made men as Bonaparte and Cromwell. But in addition, there is another reason beyond continuity why the current heirs throughout Europe would be better candidates for rulers than the sort of self-made men who have so often succeeded them. Their diffidence towards their positions reminds us that those who want passionately to rule are very often the least fit to do so.
If one or all the heirs together from Portugal to Russia were to pull themselves together and devise some means for taking power from the faltering hands of its current holders, they would need subjects as brave and heroic as they themselves would have to be for such a venture to succeed. In a word, their peoples―or at least a sufficient percentage of them―would have to be worthy of having decent rulership. That is to say, we would have to be willing to match them in terms of self-sacrifice for the common good if we wanted them to do so. That willingness, that worthiness, in itself, might be a tremendous fantasy.
But it may not be. History does not flow only in one direction but along many paths. The Monarchy of the future would not be a repeat of what has gone before, but it would retain or restore elements of it. Monarchy is as much a part of the European soul as is Christianity; one might see a new Europe as a federation of Kingdoms under an Empire. Each realm would combine subsidiarity in internal affairs with a King who had sufficient power to prevent his subjects from exploiting, robbing, or murdering each other. At the apex of this new Europe would be an actual wearer of Charlemagne’s Crown, a son of the double eagle, charged with maintaining the peace, order, and justice of this new Christendom. As Karl von Habsburg has written, “The principle of the ‘Reichidee’ cannot be translated. Today I cannot talk to a French person about the idée impériale because for him it is Napoleon. I can’t talk to an Englishman about the Imperial Idea because he immediately thinks of some Maharajas. One has to treat the concept in the German sense of the Reich idea, namely as a supranational legal order that applies to all citizens.”
Of course, all of this may indeed be the purest fantasy, and we may be doomed to follow along the route of ruin and decay delineated by our current leadership. But in the latter weeks of the Christmas season, we would do well to remember two things: the anniversaries of Louis XVI, Bl. Charlemagne, and Charles I offer a great deal to meditate on regarding what rulers can and ought to be; and regardless of whether or not any earthly Monarchies are restored, the King whose birth we are celebrating shall return. On that Day of Wrath, may all of us―commoner or noble, Royal or journalist―be able to loyally hail Him, who is our judge as well as King.
