Hello, fellow autistes and tumblers of rabbit-holes. Do you have a moment to talk about Britannia’s juicy bits?
The pursuit of hermeneutics is timeless. One can have nothing without needing to make sense of it. Over the concourse of the past hundred years and longer, there has been a stirring in the Folksoul(s) leading to the revival of ethnopaganism(s.) My own interests began with the revivalist attempts of the Germans, as it has been my perception that their gauge was more narrow and to the point. The crux of their movement resulting in the NSDAP, which for some is a fearsome, others fearful, and others laudable thing. Then there was a juxtaposition of British metaphysics whose gauge I had felt was loose.
My tune has changed somewhat, over the years. Especially now that I have severed myself from many of my confirmation biases. Hermann Wieland and Laurence Waddell sing the same song from different angles. The Germans are just as capable as the British of falling into rabbit holes of such magnanimity that escape becomes impossible, so far removed from the mainstream of any decade as to become intransigently esoteric with no hope of causal relief. But at day’s end, they both bought into a schema and fought a pitched battle to Aryanise the fertile crescent. Inanna-Ishtar, Astarte, becomes Ostara. Ostara becomes Eostre. Ostara was shared by the ancestors of the German and Englishman alike. This was not the whole of the battle, but one of many points of agreement.
I will spare you my sickly sweet pining for that day when the Teutonic Race stood poised to reunite in the face of all the world, before being crushed on both sides of the Atlantic by bureaucratic treachery of the foulest sort. But what I will focus on here, over the course of this blogpost, is a condensation of what I have walked away from with my reading of Waddell, Wieland, and others, like Liebenfels and such ilk as have fed the future Runic and Race revivals our peoples have enjoyed. An enjoyment, I might add, that has fed the palate of not only Englishman and German, but Scandinavian as well, Baltic peoples, Celtic and Slavic too. For each has stood to apply the lessons of sage men to their own folkways. To their own benefit, I hope, and our own as well – for it seems to me that no matter who you are, we all gain from your ownership over your own roots.
Over the Thanksgiving Holiday I set out to draw a picture of Britannia. However, the drawing soon became Frīja, as over my research for depictions of Britannia my mind drifted. I thought of Waddell and his opines of Ar-Tor (Ar=Aryan, Tor being the Scandinavian Thunor) being the seedbed of the otherwise Welsh Arthur. I shall retain my sensibilities when it comes to assimilating the Welsh – let them have their cake and eat as much as they like, I say. The Anglo-Saxon has his Gods, and does not need the potato saints. That said. Between the lines points are made. Points made in isolation by his antagonists in Germany, which postulate in British Iconography an ancient Germanic root. Not too terribly long ago, in one of Annie Dieu-le-Veut’s books I had read her analysis of the British Coat of Arms. These explanations are all sophisticated and entrenched in mysticism tieing English speaking figures to the Well of Urd, which they place in the ancient fertile crescent.
Depictions of Britannia are laid over by obvious Pagan elements. She wears, typically, the helm of Minerva. She bears the trident, a symbol of her, ahem, ruling the waves. But she is also shown bearing laurel leaves and peace offerings. She has tamed a lion. More recent depictions do overlay her with Graecian mysticism, as has been the fetish of Anglo and German alike. However, one finds less popular depictions of Britannia having more Celtic elements.
This makes sense, of course. The subtle influence speaks to the major contributions of culture to the British Isles. A Celtic backdrop overlaid with Hellenised Romanism before being transformed by the English. The Helmet speaks to Minerva, who according to Religio Romana was previously Sulis, a Celtic Goddess worshipped by bodies of water – like the town of Bath. The Helmet also smacks of Athena, whom Minerva answers to – who was sprouted fully armed from the head of Zeus. Both were equated to Brigid, who to the Irish fulfilled a similar role of being a patroness of combat, but also memory and craftwork. And then there is Britannia’s Lion, which she tames and keeps, a creature appearing in the British Kingdom’s Great Coat of Arms.
But it has also long been popular to overlook conveniences which air right under our noses. Despite the monstrous failures of “democracy” as we have come to know it, ruined by trends of globalism, faux-diversity, and the double-standards entailed by each… the world remains a dominion of the Anglo-Saxon People. English remains the lingua franca of the mercantile world, and in other sectors too. Whether for good or ill is not the point, and nothing is so strictly good or evil as to be pure. What cannot be denied is this, the parasite that rode the Anglo-Saxon people chose for a reason. Previous hosts include/d the French, the Dutch, and, yes, the Germans. The parasite seeks to choose the most capable, the most intelligent and the most durable hosts.
With this being said, a tell-tale sign of parasitic infestation is selflessness. The Anglo-Saxon forgets himself. The German forgets himself. He comes to see himself in others, for in so doing it is so much the easier to ignore the parasite, the swelling tick on his neck. So, of course, Britannia is nothing more than an icon of a Goddess come, so conveniently, from the East wherefrom so many other more recent elements have come. The Lion can only belong to Ishtar. Her helmet can only be a gift of Zeus.
The Welsh, Scotch and Irish are not quick to put Britannia up on the altar. Britannia seems more a modern Goddess for modern English. The British flag is taken more for an English one, not only by observers, but also algorhythms. The Anglo-Saxons, my own ancestors, took the British Isles from the inhabitants of the time, whom myth recalls took it from others whose myths are seemingly harder to distil. At any rate. Whomst was chiefest among the Goddesses of the Anglo-Saxon? One can inquire towards the patroness of Friday. Frigedaeg. Frīja’s Day, or Frige’s Day some say.
It seems, amongst the English clans and tribes, the divide between Frigga and Freyja did not occur. Sparing you my argument why I believe they are one, my ancestors make my argument for me. There is one Goddess for Friday. She had her chariot drawn by cats. But she was also a frith-weaver. She was a patroness of wisdom. It is just as likely that the English Folksoul sees Frīja in Britannia, and I say more immediately so, than perhaps Inanna-Ishtar who some claim as Ostara, or Eos, or whatever fancies. I will not debate. However, I will remind the reader that a Goddess drawn by broad cats is an utterly aged icon. The Seated Woman of Chatalhoeyuek, in what is now Turkey, supposedly predates many of these latterday Goddesses. We don’t know her story, and it could be that her story is simultaneously Frīja’s and Ishtar’s. That is not for me to say. I can say this. The inclusion of Lions in the iconography of Britain is a Norman import. The Norman Dukes were symbolised by Twin Lions, stacked. That’s two. Two lions. Enough to draw a sturdy Goddess’ cart, no? The Normans, do recall, came from Scandinavia – the land of Freyja.
Another fitting aspect, I think, is the solar aspect of some of her antecedents. Informed by Frīja, the Goddess would have had access also to a great boar, in Old Norse called Gullinbursti, whose bristles sparked the dawn. IF a line between Ishtar and Ostara and Eos be drawn, then we must acknowledge the role of the Dawn. Brigid who was connected to Minerva, was a Celtic Goddess of the Dawn and the Spring. And Eostre gave her name to a feast meant to bring back the Summer, just as Brigid did. And what does Britannia represent? A British Empire who for some time never once saw a sunset, who bathed herself in solar imagery and unconsciously evoked springtide and summer light.
The occult intention is clear. In Britannia, Britain could become timeless. Echoes of this came about in Britain’s occult studies which stood opposite Germany’s during the last great fratricidal world war. Studies complemented equally as Germany’s by the occult studies of Scandinavia, which predated the efforts of both Germany and England. Unsung heroes like Sigurd Aggrell, and later and more rationalistic men like Vilhelm Grønbech, amongst countless others. All of whose efforts filter down into not only modern Asatru, but also other strains of the Occult. Influences of incalculable force.
And so Britannia has cleverly had her cake, and yours, and eaten them both. IN her figure is the potential full force of Teutonic, Celtic and Hellenic influences. While it is fashionable to ignore the obvious Teutonic influence over everything because it, through the English speaking people, is so inescapable – I think it pays to look. Just as it pays to remember multiple truths can exist simultaneously. Britannia can exude Frīja, and Minerva, and Brigid as well as Inanna, and betray nothing.
Something to think about. Or not. I’ve had my say, and now I’m off to do… something. May the coming winter and inevitable commercialism spare you their indelicacies, and all go swimmingly for you and your house. I’ve been your host, The Eternal Anglo, Damned Yankee of the Northeast Wind laughed at by Arnold and Crom. Screw you, Benny – it’s entirely too early for Christmas ornaments. Shalom RAUS.