Mes camarades! Unfortunately my precious MacBook — the technological device by which we keep you informed of russet-cheeked peasantry, hearty, cheerful nobles, and anything generally old-school and interesting — is steadily decreasing in functionality. I feel like an Indian colonial official discovering that the telegraph workers are about to go on strike and cut off the Jewel in the Crown from contact with the rest of the civilised world.

Fear not for me, my friends! This nifty book arrived in the post the other day, and I’m in the middle of Kristin Lavransdatter, the 1,200-page Norwegian masterpiece of Nobel laureate Sigrid Unset. It will likely be some months before I can scrap together the oojah for a new Mac, and these books will help me bide the time. As for you, dear readers, I hope the links in the sidebar will keep you at least partly entertained during my absence, and I apologise for any inconvenience to your lunch-break internet wanderings this period of absence may cause.

E-mail and Facebook communication will be exceptionally sparse, so friends are recommended to get in touch via telephone, carrier pigeon, or the sidewalk of 43rd Street in front of St. Agnes after the 11:00am Latin Mass on Sundays.

Until next time, whenever that might be, over and out.

One’s chatting on the phone in Afrikaans, the other in Finnish.

I think the ideal model for bachelor digs must be No. 221B Baker Street from the Granada TV production of Sherlock Holmes (Jeremy Brett’s performance as the title character being his most enduring and remembered role). Needless to say, one would have to have Mrs. Hudson as well, lest one starve to death or suffer the ignominy of microwaved meals.

Die Parlementsgebou, Kaapstad.

The insignia of the Parliament of South Africa, showing the Mace and Black Rod crossed between the shield and crest of the traditional arms of South Africa.

CAPE TOWN IS justifiably known as the “mother-city” of all South Africa, paying tribute to that day over three-hundred-and-fifty years ago when Jan van Riebeeck planted the tricolour of the Netherlands on the sands of the Cape of Good Hope. Numerous political transformations have taken place since that time, from the shifting tides of colonial overlords, to the united dominion of 1910, universal suffrage in 1994, and beyond. The history of self-government in South Africa has unfolded in a well-tempered, slow evolution rather than the sudden revolutions and tumults so frequent in other domains. No building has born greater witness to this long evolution than the Parliament House in Cape Town.

The British first created a legislative council for the Cape in 1835, but it was the agitation over a London proposal to transform the colony into a convict station (like Australia) that threw European Cape Town into an uproar. The proposal was defeated, but the colonists grew concerned that perhaps they were better guardians of their own affairs than the Colonial Office in far-off London. In 1853, Queen Victoria granted a parliament and constitution for the Cape of Good Hope, and the responsible government the Kaaplanders so desired was achieved. (more…)

Little known fact: when this website is accessed from German-speaking countries, it appears in an old-fashioned fraktur typeface. (more…)

His Eminence Keith Patrick O’Brien, Cardinal Archbishop of St Andrews & Edinburgh, Primate of Scotland, has a wee chat with a triumvirate of seminarians from the Pontifical Scots College, Rome at the Holy Father’s weekly general audience. St Andreans (or at least Old Canmoreans) will recognize the ginger chap at right, attentively listening to the Cardinal’s words. I caught up with him in August when he had just a week to go before heading to seminary.

Brigadier the Right Honourable Sir Bernard Fergusson,
Baron Ballantrae, KT, GCMG, GCVO, DSO, OBE

Left, Lord Ballantrae in his robes of office as Chancellor of the University of St Andrews; Right, as Governor-General of New Zealand with former Prime Minister Sir Walter Nash.

Over at Curated Secrets, Stephen Klimczuk takes a brief wander through Clubland, mentioning the illustrious Bernard Fergusson, who was known for “the skill with which he could toss his monocle in the air and catch it in his eye”. Stephen’s co-author on Secret Places, Hidden Sanctuaries, the Much Hon. Laird of Craiggenmaddie, chimes in on the commentbox, bringing to light that “when he was serving under Orde Wingate with the Chindits in Burma, among the supplies dropped by the RAF to those doughty warriors was a supply of monocles for Fergusson, since the damage/loss rate was so high in the jungle.”

Fergusson has always fascinated me, not only because he was the Chancellor of my university, but also because he has the best claim to the throne of New Zealand should the Land of the Long White Cloud ever decide to dispense with the House of Windsor. Lord Ballantrae (as Fergusson was ennobled) served as Governor-General of New Zealand, his own father served as Governor-General of New Zealand, and both his grandfathers served as Governor of New Zealand before the antipodean kingdom became a dominion. Rather appropriately, his son and heir is currently serving as Her Majesty’s High Commissioner to New Zealand, which is now the highest office of the British government in those islands.

Stephen mentions other fun stories of Clubland, such as the waggish response of the dinner guest who was kept waiting for Hermann Goering at one club before the war: “‘I have been shooting,’ said Goering. ‘Animals, I hope?’ was the quite reasonable question in response.”

I’ve sometimes thought that the Director of the Metropolitan Museum is New York’s unofficial Minister of Culture. Concerned New Yorkers were at the edge of their seats with anticipation to discover who would be chosen to direct this great museum once it was announced that the legendary Philippe de Montebello was relinquishing the throne. As The New Criterion put it “Few events have been awaited with more trepidation in the world of culture — we were going to say ‘the art world,’ but it embraces much more than that — than the appointment of the next director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

The massive sigh of relief when Thomas Campbell was announced as the successor could probably be heard as far as the Louvre (or even the Hermitage), even though Campbell’s name was on none of the supposed shortlists for the job. Judging by his past as curator of tapestries, Campbell is widely believed to be utterly reliable at continuing the high standard maintained during de Montebello’s reign. May God guide him well in his task! (more…)

Finally got around to reorganising the sidebar. It had been a bit chaotic and disorganised before, but I’ve managed to shape it up a bit, deleting a few links while adding others. Take a gander, you might find something you didn’t have a chance to stumble upon before.

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