Post: #1

Since I came across this community 3 years ago I have become a changed man. Ingratiating myself amongst you guys and your opinions has been an incredibly worthwhile experience for me, not least in the form of reading to better myself mentally, spiritually and physically. I have spent the better part of my downtime with my head in a book of some sort, with most of my readings recommended by various members of this forum. I made reference to this in my introductory post & if you wish to know more about me & where I’m coming from you can read it here - Introductory Post

While I have a contentious relationship with my mother these days, I would have to give her some credit for developing my questioning mind & interest in the world around me. I made reference to her in an RVF thread a few weeks back when someone here posted yet another inspiring quote from Sir Winston Churchill and mentioned that I wished I had had a father like Churchill.

This got me thinking that I should look more into his life & times, and was spurred to do further after reading the excellent intellectual springboard ‘Thirty Seven’ penned our own Quintus Curtius.

Last week, I was out at mum’s picking up some tools I had stored there 10 years ago when my father passed & while poking about the place I came upon a copy of Churchill’s autobiography 'My Early Life'. When she noticed my interest in the book she told me I could keep it as she had another first edition copy stashed in her archives, signed by his late wife Lady Clementine (she had been Clementine’s private nurse for a spell in her twenty’s, years after Winston died)

If you have been keeping up with Rooshs blog post of late, it is obvious that the player lifestyle is becoming less important to him given its inevitable futility in the world we currently find ourselves within and his increasing maturity. I relate very much to everything Roosh has described on his own blog over the years (we are similar in age) and I can see his intellect & maturity starting to guide him on a different path, one more of an investment in himself than of the declining world around him.

It is very much my desire to give back to this forum as much as I can given the boost it has provided me with but I’m not in a position to provide datasheets or travel stories right now. In future I hope to do so as best I can however notch counts are not important to me anymore – I know what I want & I know what to look for in a girl. I don’t spend a lot of time in the game forum as I’m at an age and a natural ability whereby I don’t think my advice would be as relevant to the young’uns as it would have been 10 years ago. I’m more interested in self improvement & squeezing as much as I can out of the remaining years I have left in this life than I am about notch counts & wasting precious time with imbeciles (I'm referring to women here, not forum newbies ). I'm sure a lot of members over 30 understand where I'm coming from here

That said, I am reading Churchill’s “My Early Life”, first published in 1930, and I wanted to start this thread to document the quotes that I have found most revealing about this great man who helped shape our world as we know it through the 20th century and today.

I will post on a chapter by chapter basis & I hope anyone reading this gains something from what I have pulled. I welcome your comments & insights into this historical figure for the ages & hope it can be a thread we can all gain something from for the future.

Post: #2

Winston Churchill: My Early Life

Chapter 1: Childhood

• My mother always seemed to me a fairly princess: a radiant being possessed of limitless riches and power. Lord D’Abernon has described her as she was in these Irish days in words for which I am grateful.
  
  “… I have the clearest recollection of seeing her for the first time. It was at the Vice-Regal Lodge at Dublin. She stood on one side to the left of the entrance. The Viceroy was on a dais at the farther end of the room surrounded by a brilliant staff, but eyes were not turned on him or his consort, but on a dark, lithe figure, standing somewhat apart and appearing to be of another texture to those around her, radiant, translucent, intense. A diamond star in her hair, her favourite ornament – its lustre dimmed by the flashing glory of her eyes. More of the panther than of the woman in her look, but with a cultivated intelligence unknown to the jungle. Her courage not less great than that of her husband – fit mother for descendants of the great Duke. With all these attributes of brilliancy, such kindliness and high spirits that she was universally popular. Her desire to please, her delight in life, and the genuine wish that all should share her joyous faith in it, made her the centre of a devoted circle.”
  

• Lord Beaconsfield was the great enemy of Mr. Gladstone, and everybody called him “Dizzy”. However, this time “Dizzy” had been thoroughly beaten by Mr. Gladstone, so we were all flung out into Opposition and the country began to be ruined very rapidly. Everyone said it was “going to the dogs”. And then on top of this Lord Beaconsfield got very ill. He had a long illness; and as he was also very old, it killed him.

• I have already described the dreaded apparition in my world of “The Governess”. But now a much worse peril began to threaten. I was to go to school. I was now seven years old, and I was what grown-up people in their off-hand way called “a troublesome boy”. … Although much that I had heard about school had made a distinctly disagreeable impression on my mind, an impression, I may add, thoroughly borne out by the actual experience, I was also excited by and agitated by this great change in my life. I thought in spite of the lessons, it would be fun living with so many other boys, and that we should make great friends together and have great adventures.

• Irresistible tides drew me swiftly forward. I was no more consulted about leaving home than I had been about coming into the world.

• The Form Master’s observations about punishment were by no means without their warrant at St. James’s School. Flogging with the birch in accordance with the Eton fashion was a great feature in its curriculum. But I am sure no Eton boy, and certainly no Harrow boy of my day, ever received such a cruel flogging as this Headmaster was accustomed to inflict upon the little boys who were in his care and power. They exceeded in severity anything that would be tolerated in any of the Reformatories under the Home Office. My reading in later life has supplied me with some possible explanations of his temperament. Two or three times a month the whole school was marshalled in the Library, and one or two delinquents were hauled off to an adjoining apartment by the two head boys, and there flogged until they bled freely, while the rest of us sat quaking, listening to their screams.

• This form of correction was strongly reinforced by frequent religious services of a somewhat High Church character in the chapel. Mrs. Everest was very much against the Pope. If the truth were known, she said, he was behind the Fenians. She herself was Low Church, and her dislike of ornaments and ritual, and generally her extremely unfavourable opinion of the Supreme Pontiff, had prejudiced me strongly against that personage and all religious practices supposed to be associated with him. I therefore did not derive much comfort from the spiritual side of my education at this juncture. On the other hand, I experienced the fullest applications of the secular arm.

Post: #3

I wonder if in any of these glowing tributes towards Winston Churchill will cover his racist and bigoted views and the fact that he was a firm believer of White superiority. There are some things about him that are admirable of course but by and large there are far better people with greater moral compasses to idolize.

At the end of the day one of his arch-foes Gandhi a man who he described as a 'half-naked fakir' went down in history on par with Jesus and Buddha transcending nationalities and countries where as Churchill remains hated in many parts of the world.

Post: #4

Thanks Zayfran. Enjoy your ban. Now, back to the racist....

Chapter 2: Harrow

• I had scarcely passed my twelfth birthday when I entered the inhospitable regions of examinations, through which the next seven years I was destined to journey. These examinations were a great trial to me. The subjects which were dearest to the examiners were almost invariably those I fancied least. I would have liked to have been examined in history, poetry and writing essays. The examiners, on the other hand,were partial to Latin and mathematics. And their will prevailed. Moreover, the questions which they asked on both these subjects were almost invariably those to whichI was unable to suggest a satisfactory answer. I should have liked to to be asked to say what I knew. They always tried to ask what I did not know. When I would have willingly displayed my knowledge, they sought to expose my ignorance. This sort of treatment had only one result: I did not do well at examinations.

• This was especially true of my Entrance Examination to Harrow. The Headmaster, Mr. Welldon, however, took a broad-minded view of my Latin prose: he showed discernment in judging my general ability. This was the more remarkable, because I was found unable to answer a single question in the Latin paper. I wrote my name at the top of the page. I wrote down the number of the question "I." After much reflection I put a bracket around it thus "(I)." But thereafter I could not think of anything connected with it that was either relevant or true. Incidentally there arrived from nowhere in particular a blot and several smudges. I gazed for two whole hours at this sad spectacle: and then merciful ushers collected my piece of foolscap with all the others and carried it up to the Headmasters table. It was from these slender indications of scholarship that Mr. Welldon drew the conclusion that I was worthy to pass into Harrow. It is very much to his credit. It showed that he was a man capable of looking beneath the surface of things: a man not dependent upon paper manifestations. I have always had the greatest regard for him.

• I was in fact only two from the bottom of the whole school; and these two, I regret to say, disappeared almost immediately through illness or some other cause.

• It was the year 1887. Lord Randolph Churchill had only just resigned his position as Leader of the House of Commons and Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he still towered in the forefront of politics. In consequence large numbers of both sexes used to wait on the school steps, in order to see me march by; and I frequently heard the irreverent comment, "Why, he's the last of all!"

• We were considered such dunces that we could learn only English. Mr. Somervell - a most delightful man, to whom my debt is great - was charged with the duty of teaching the stupidest boys the most disregarded thing - namely, to write in mere English. He knew how to do it. He taught it as no one else has ever taught it. Not only did we learn English parsing thoroughly, but we also practised continual English analysis.

• Naturally I am biased in favour of boys learning English. I would make them all learn English: and then I would let the clever ones learn Latin as an honour, and Greek as a treat. But the only thing I would whip them for is not knowing English. I would whip them hard for that.

• One day when I had been no more than a month in the school, I saw a boy standing in a meditative posture wrapped in a towel on the very brink. He was no bigger than I was, so I thought him fair game. Coming stealthily behind, I pushed him in, holding on to his towel out of humanity, so that it should not get wet. I was startled to see a furious face emerge from the foam, and a being evidently of enormous strength making its way by fierce strokes to the shore. I fled; but in vain. Swift as the wind my pursuer overtook me, seized me in a ferocious grip and hurled me into the deepest art of the pool... I determined to apologise immediately. I approached the potentate in lively trepidation. "I am very sorry," I said. "I mistook you for a Fourth Form boy. You are so small." He did not seem at all placated by this; so I added in a most brilliant recovery, "My father, who is a great man, is also small." At this he laughed, and after some general remarks about my "cheek" and how I better be careful in the future, signified that the incident was closed.

• I also succeeded in passing the preliminary examination for the Army while still almost at the bottom of the school. This examination seemed to to have called fourth a very special effort on my part, for many boys far above me in the school failed in it.

• I was now embarked on a military career. This orientation was entirely due to my collection of soldiers. I had ultimately near fifteen hundred. They were of one size, all British, and organised as an infantry division with a cavalry brigade. My brother Jack commanded the hostile army.

• The day came when my father himself paid a formal visit of inspection. All the troops were arranged in the correct formation of attack. He spent twenty minutes studying the scene - which was really impressive - with a keen eye and a captivating smile. At the end he asked me if I would like to go into the Army. I thought it would be splendid to command an army, so I said "Yes" at once: and immediately I was taken at my word. For years I thought my father with his military experience and flair had discerned in me the qualities of military genius. But I was told later that he had only come to the conclusion that I was not clever enough to go to the Bar.

• My Sixth-Form friend for his part was almost as much troubled by the English essays he had to write for the Headmaster as I was by these Latin crossword puzzles. We agreed together that he should tell me my Latin translations and that I should do his essays. The arrangement worked admirably. The Latin master seemed quite satisfied with my work, and I had more time to myself in the mornings.

• But even as a schoolboy I questioned the aptness of the Classics for the prime structure of our education. So they told me how Mr. Gladstone read Homer for fun, which I thought served him right; and that it would be a great pleasure to me in after life. When I seemed incredulous, they added that Classics would be a help in writing and speaking English. They then pointed out the number of our modern words which are derived from the Latin or Greek. Apparently one could use the words much better, if one knew the exact source from which they had sprung. I was fain to admit a practical value.