By Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
A young peasant woman of Castile solicitously and tenderly gazes at the son she cradles in her arms. In her one sees a certain rusticity typical of peasants, but it is a rusticity where the coarseness implicit in the term ‘rustic’ is, so to speak, imperceptible. Rather, country life has concentrated its best effects in this young woman. Her countenance and bearing express a vigorous fullness of health of both body and soul—a fullness marked with that unique stamp of centuries of Christian tradition. In this peasant, who perhaps can barely read, there is a vigor of mind, a logic, a temperance and a harmonious subjection of matter to the spirit, together with a freshness and delicacy that can only stem from much faith and purity. Her distinct features are energetic; her firm and well-defined eyebrows frame a sharp and penetrating gaze, but her face reveals a serenity and candor that her snow-white headdress seems to enhance with a touch of special radiance.
She is just a simple daughter of the people, but of a great and most Catholic people, a people who harbor treasures of every kind—ethnic, historic, moral, social and religious; and this makes of this humble yet highly dignified daughter of Castile a model fit to inspire the talent of a great painter.
In her all of these treasures are oriented toward motherhood. The most delicate tenderness with which she contemplates her son stands out, as well as a keen awareness of her protective role. One can also see her dedication, which has, so to speak, activated all her virtuosity and her whole capacity for affection. A profound and serious affection, without, however, overindulgence, turned toward the son that God gave to her.
Fortunate child for whose sake Divine Providence disposed marvels of nature and grace in the dedication of a pure mother filled with faith.
1936 children’s Communist Army.
“We are the children of Lenin, we want neither father nor mother!” Making the air vibrate with this miserable chant, these young slaves of the Antichrist parade through the streets of a communist city bearing on their breasts the insignia of their sinister lord: the five-pointed star with the hammer and sickle.
They seem to be children raised not for the civility of everyday life, but for aggression, insult and brutality. One can see that their capacity to hate has been awakened, stimulated and fixed to such a high degree of habitual tension that it has become second nature to them. Their eyes are staring at the photographer’s lens—or at some other point in space—with piercing mistrust and hatred. Their gait reveals a dire intent that seems to give their steps a ferocious cadence. The pedestrians watching the parade seem animated by similar sentiments. One could say that these boys are sons of hatred, singing the hymn of hatred in the city of hatred.
To form sons of anger like these, nothing would be more logical that to deprive them of paternal and maternal love and to inspire in them a monstrous hatred for family life.
Piety or impiety, virtue or amorality, firm and temperate delicacy or diabolical and unrestrained brutality, in final analysis, Catholic civilization or communism—this is the tragic alternative that the man of the twentieth century finds himself facing.
Ambience Customs & Civilization, No. 60 ― December 1955
