The one true King and the one true Pope

Sire

Éditions de Fallois 1991

L’anneau du pêcheur

Éditions Albin Michel 1995

By Jean Raspail

Jean Raspail, who passed away in 2020, is best known to the English-speaking world for his 1973 novel The Camp of the Saints. Here he presented in startling detail a scenario in which a decadent Europe is overrun by third world migrants and simultaneously undermined by libertine progressive forces. As a kind of aside, Raspail depicted the ineffectual activity of the debilitated Roman Catholic Church in the face of this apocalyptic confrontation. Could the author have guessed that forty years later his vision of a grand migration would be literally fulfilled on the southern border of the EU and the United States – with a Western world in the grip of total moral and political chaos and the pope of the Roman Catholic Church actively furthering the movement of decomposition? Rod Dreher called attention in 2015 to this most amazing prediction. Of course, Mr. Dreher also had to dutifully register his horror at the “racism” of Raspail’s book, at its “offensive” language that makes one “cringe.” 1)

Jean Raspail, however, continued to write books in a prophetic vein. He loves to describe causes that seem to be lost and the hidden spiritual forces that still dwell behind the façade of modern life.  His admiration is clearly for those who adhere with unshakable loyalty to outdated and “reactionary” crusades in the face of all the odds and all calculations of success. Is it at all surprising, then, that I read in the notices of the author’s death that he was friendly to the traditional mass community?

In Sire, Raspail tells a fantastic tale of how Philippe Pharamond, the young heir to the French throne,  accompanied by a handful of companions, travels over present-day France on a journey to Reims cathedral to be anointed king of France. The odyssey, at time bordering on the supernatural, is a large part covered on horseback. Raspail surrounds the narrative of the group’s travels with marvelous descriptions of nature (or whatever of it is left today). The progress of the royal party is actively helped by an unlikely group of supporters: a mysterious monk and former Cardinal, a leading French industrialist; a black female security guard at the basilica of Saint Denis, a taxi driver – and many more. Others seem to be mesmerized against their will into facilitating the anointing. There are adversaries and persecutors too – especially one particularly repulsive ex-Jesuit in the employ of the state security forces. For the French government perceives this crowning as a threat. 

Raspail gives us a vivid description of the decayed and dying French Catholic Church. Her clergy are characterless eunuchs without personality. The present-day treasury of the cathedral of Reims is but a collection of junk. The churches – regardless of the support of the state –  can be at any moment a scene of vandalism or even murder.

Throughout there are haunting,  phantasmagoric images. In incredibly violent scenes, we witness the  leaders of the French Revolution systematically desecrating the graves of the French monarchs at Saint Denis and then destroying – or so it seems – the vessel containing the holy chrism at Reims. Prayers are secretly recited in the early morning darkness in the Basilica of Saint Denis – surrounded by a decrepit, hostile and grotesquely ugly modern town and menaced at every moment with vandalism – before the tombs of the French kings. (The basilica has indeed recently been vandalized in March 2019 and January 2022)

These images culminate in an apocalyptic nighttime vision in which Pharamond is forced to confront France as it is today (that is in 1991 – in 2022 it is far worse). Pallid wraiths sit in a fast food-type chain restaurant by the highway devouring vile food. Endless rows of identical high-rise apartments extend out from Paris whose inhabitants sit glued to their flickering TV screens (today it would be their computers). Pharamond faces the temptation of despair before this realization of how little his calling and dignity means to the Frenchmen of today.

Yet Pharamond overcomes this challenge and continues onward to his destiny. And this is the significance of the anointing and of the search in this novel for the last drops of the oil brought down by the Holy Spirit for the crowning of Clovis, the first king of the Franks. For Pharamond is king by divine right – it matters little how many accept him. This to Raspail is the nature of royalty. He describes beautifully too the personal relationship that the subject of a king has with his sovereign and the rules of etiquette incumbent upon both. The author reflects movingly on the nature of fellowship and the beauty of sharing risks  – and meals. 

The novel actually builds up a fair amount of tension – we really await with trepidation for the anointing to be accomplished. We feel for the royal party and their heterogenous entourage. At the end, after the rituals have been accomplished,  Pharamond departs. We are not told what the next chapter of his story will be. But it seems that something necessary in some hidden way to the French nation’s spiritual equilibrium has been achieved.

L’anneau du pêcheur (The Ring of the Fisherman) turns to the spiritual world. The novel is based on the extraordinary premise that the Avignon papacy never came to an end; that a line of Avignon popes has endured unto our day. Now, I admit that, outside of France perhaps,  the Avignon papacy does not enjoy the best of reputations. But Raspail gamely goes to bat for the home team. In contrast, he depicts St. Catherine of Siena’s “sweet Jesus on earth” – the murderous Urban VI, restored to the city of Rome- in the darkest of colors. 

Raspail forcefully makes the case for Avignon in the Western schism. Much of the narrative deals with Pedro de Luna (Benedict XIII) and his stubborn fight against all odds for his papal rights regardless of what the Councils of Pisa and Constance, the French King and his own sovereign in Aragon may be saying and decreeing. For him truly, fiat Justitia et pereat mundus.

Now according to Raspail, after Benedict XIII and a couple of succeeding pretenders, a hidden series of Popes continued the Avignon line to the present day. These became poor men – vagabonds perhaps – but true men of God and endowed with the gift of miracles. But Raspail implies that these have been the true popes. And the last of this line now undertakes a journey to Rome (which attracts the attention of the Vatican). And this pope, like all his predecessors in this lineage,  bears the name “Benedict” ! 

 Of course the uncanny prophetic gifts of Raspail himself are here once again demonstrated. For who, reading this book, cannot avoid thinking of that lonely, hidden Pope Benedict of our very own day  – Joseph Ratzinger – and the contrast of his quiet spirituality with the brutal carnival show presided over by the current occupant of the see of Rome? A Pope Benedict who, once again, is suffering savage attacks in his country of birth.

Actually, The Ring of the Fisherman does not dwell on criticism of the the present-day Church. Rather, the novel contrasts the authentic spirituality of the humble man of God  Benedict with the great void of today’s secular France, insensible to spiritual things. In this novel, it seems that the battle for the soul of France has already been fought long ago –  and won by the present age. Much of the story involves the travels of  Benedict and his retinue about ruined cathedrals, mysterious chapels and isolated monasteries in the south of France. Criticism of the Vatican II Church is mostly subtly implied – such as by depicting a supposed Vatican secret security agency. Only in a brief but memorable description of the yowling crowds at a gigantic “event” in a South American stadium can be found overt satire of today’s Church. Engulfed by the chanting of the mob which surrounds him, John Paul II’s feeble voice is drowned out. (Raspail does not mention that this kind of show was largely instituted by John Paul II in the first place).There’s also a final sentence in this novel mentioning the imprudence of John XXIII in calling the Vatican Council, similar to that of his predecessor John XXIII,  a pope (or antipope) of the Western Schism, of agreeing to  the Council of Constance. Do I need to add that everyone -including the last Pope Benedict – seems to be using the traditional liturgy?

In my opinion, although its premise is fascinating, The Ring of the Fisherman is less successful, as a novel, than Sire. It is far more static – the basic conflict is evident very early on. The contrast running through the novel between the world of Pedro de Luna (Benedict XIII) and that of his modern-day descendant holds our attention but has certain monotony.  And Raspail’s descriptions of Vatican officials and departments   – a la Malachi Martin – are not really developed. In contrast,  J-K Huysmans’ Là-Bas also is structured around an alternating narrative of the late middle ages(Gilles de Rais) and the modern day (occultist circles)  but builds up to a dramatic climax of both threads. 

The Pope Benedict of the novel dies before reaching Rome. Yet Pope John Paul II arranges that his body be brought to St Peter’s and buried simply in the catacombs, with a low Mass,  before a small congregation but with the funeral honors of a Pope. There, in a simple white marble sarcophagus, resides the last of the Avignon Popes with this simple inscription:

BENEDICTUS

1. Dreher, Rod, “It’s Jean Raspail’s World Now” The American Conservative (9/7/2015)