How splendid it will be to return home for Christmas! However, I still have a few days here in St Andrews and a few tasks to get done as well. Breakfast with Nicholas Vincent (Architecture writer for the Mitre) tommorrow. A pint with Chris Pollard sometime in there. Lunch with Tom Leppard, St Andrews’ favourite champagne socialist, Thursday. I told Alex Matzdorf and Ed Jackson both I’d have coffee with them sometime, and hopefully I will in the next three days.

Today was my last academic bit, a celebratory affair marking the final seminar for the ‘Monarchy, Church, and State’ course with Dr. Bradley (seen at right, Kirkin’ it up). It was somewhat embarassing as I was about fifteen minutes late since I stopped to buy sherry for the seminar. There is something moderately amusing about walking into of the rooms in St. Mary’s quad with a bottle of sherry and getting a round of applause. In addition to my sherry, there were other beverages including non-alcoholic mulled wine (NON-ALCOHOLIC MULLED WINE! That’s right, there were Protestants afoot).

We were supposed to be covering what will be on the exam, but that pretty much came down to “There will be nine questions to choose from and you’ve had nine seminars. Study them all.” It may be very well for me, but others have dissertations to write, poor souls! Nonetheless, Dr. Bradley insisted the latest Mitre be passed around as he found our editorial rather intriguing. Of course the triumvirate of young Baptist ladies in the corner went straight for Za-Za Shelly’s article on bras. (Have to have something in the Mitre for the fair ones to read). Graham Booth volunteered himself as sports writer.

Already have my first appointment for home. Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols at St Thomas on Sunday. Brenner and I will be going, providing I have any energy left after flying home the previous evening, and hopefully we’ll be able to track down James Feddeck – the man himself – to come along. Ah, but I’m not really home until I hear the euphonic incantation of Asperges me at the 11 o’clock Mass at St Agnes.

Robert A.M. Stern has apparently designed a proposal for the site of the old Gramatan garage in Bronxville, behind Christ Church. I have to admit that once the garage was torn down I began imagining the possibilities for the site. Christ Church, by Grosvenor Goodhue the Great (responsible for St. Vincent Ferrer and the Cadet Chapel at West Point among others), is such a beautiful building, and Stern’s design deftly fits into the context.

The design is along the lines of the nearby Kensington Gardens and the other courts of townhouses which are dotted around that area and elsewhere in Bronxville. It seems to be an apartment building, probably along the lines of the Avalon building (previously home to Emma, Lilly, and Momma Kate Haberl, and Roger Mahon too), though of a much better design.

It is, however, a slightly odd mix of buildings that one finds surrounding Christ Church. Immediately to the north are the modern church house and a Spanish Mediterranean building, across Sagamore Road are brick neo-Tudor buildings, and up the road are mock English village structures of the ilk this design emulates. Still, altogether it somehow works, though Christ Church is oddly enough an arts-and-crafts reinterpretation of English Gothic with a Spanish-style courtyard featuring a statue of St. Francis of Assisi. Bizarre, but it all works somehow.

Two groups are supporting plans to put a trolley line down 42nd St from river to river. Vision42‘s proposal (seen above) would see the thoroughfare pedestrianised and arborised, whereas that of the Municipal Arts Society (below) would retain automobile access.

I have to say I rather like the idea of turning 42nd Street into a tree-lined pedestrian boulevard, despite doubts as to it actually happening. Though, as an avid guy-who-drives-in-Manhattan-alot I think losing a major cross street would be a hassle. New York lacks a major pedestrian area. We have small ones like Stone Street/Beaver Street area way downtown and the South Street Seaport, as well as gorgeous piazzas like Audubon Terrace (a hidden treasure which surely must be the subject of a future post). But we’re lacking a large, long, people-oriented boulevard. Adding trees would be especially wonderful as well.

Either way, it’d be nice to see ‘light rail’ (as trolleys are called these days) return to the streets of Manhattan. Whether it would be wise or prudent I’ll leave for others to decide, but the Chestertonian nostalgic in me welcomes their return.

Having some genuine space around Times Square just for people would be a definite benefit as well. It’s always terribly crowded with people and often vehicles as well. Removing 42nd as a vehicular cross street at Times Square would probably make it more effecient actually.

Of course the plans have the new trolley line turning at the Hudson river, heading south to link up with the redevelopment of Hell’s Kitchen discussed in posts past.

Today is the Feast of Saint Nicholas, one of my favorite saints. I’m not quite sure why he’s one of my favorites, but it probably has something to do with being the Patron Saint of New York, the greatest land there ever was. Unfortunately, he’s a somewhat neglected saint, perhaps even abused and overwritten as “Santa Claus”, the secular, materialist idol of the marketplace which has usurped both Nicholas’s heritage and subsequent reinvation a la Washington Irving et Thomas Nast.

There are many fine legends of the good Saint, most of which you can find at the most excellent resource which I highly recommend known as the St Nicholas Center.

St. Nicholas was once fairly represented in the great metropolis which he watches over. Above he is seen in the sanctuary mural behind the altar at the Church of Saint Agnes – the best parish in all Manhattan. The mural was actually painted by Sean Delonas, a cartoonist for the New York Post. One of the cherubs pulling at St Nicholas is the son of the muralist.

Behold, the church that was once called New York’s ‘Protestant Cathedral’. It’s hard to believe it’s gone, though I was born after it was demolished to make way for the Sinclair Oil Building. The Collegiate Church of St Nicholas was the oldest congregation in the City, founded in 1628 and housed in this late-nineteenth century building on Fifth Avenue. This photograph by Abbott shows Rockefeller Center rising in the background.

Surprisingly, the congregation – of which some of the most wealthy knickerbockers were members – did not build a new church, instead worshipping at a variety of different locations. I believe it is now dissolved, though perhaps it merged into the West End Collegiate Church.

John Lukacs, in his A Student’s Guide to the Study of History, says in a footnote:

This is my essential point about architecture today. If one looks at the actual built quality of buildings by Duncan Stroik or Thomas Gordon Smith, one may appreciate the overall idea or effort but frown upon the execution, call it clumsy or whatnot. The point is that though these people may or may not be masters themselves, they are raising a new generation of architects who are in tune with the past and thus able to more readily plot a future of beauty and mastery. With any luck, within 50-100 years, architecture will have recovered from the uninspiring malaise in which it currently dwells.

One of the less attractive aspects of the University of St Andrews is its library. Most people complain that it’s ugly, inhospitable, and generally not a nice place to be. My main problem, however, is its greivous inefficiency. Never having been to other university libraries, I don’t know if this is widespread or merely a specific case.

I have an essay due on Friday. I want or need books A, B, C, D, and E. So I check SAULCAT, the electronic catalog of the library, and find that D and E have been taken out but that A, B, and C are still in the library. I write down the ‘classmark’ numbers for A, B, and C, and look them up in the stalls. They’re not there. I look on the reshelving cart. They’re not there. Then I look on the shelves of books waiting to be reshelved (no joke), which on Level 3 of the Library are 6 or 7 columns of 5 shelves each with books in no particular order so you have to look through the whole lot. They’re not there. I look through books left in empty study carrels. They’re not there. I look up in the empty carrels on Level 4. They’re not there. At 5:00pm they’re not there. At 9:30 at night, they’re not there. At 1:40 in the afternoon they’re not there. In short, they’re just plain not there. You can go to the front desk and fill out a missing book form, as I naïvely did the first time I experienced this problem. Nothing will happen.

And there are only 5-12 people in the entire university who are probable taking courses that require these books. Yet nonetheless they’re never there. It’s something of a hassle.

Now, taking one particular missing book, The French Army in politics, 1945-1962 by John Stewart Ambler, classmark DC404.A6. Right now, SAULCAT says its status is “IN LIBRARY”. Yet for the past day it’s been nowhere to be found. I could buy a used copy from Amzon.co.uk for £74.95, but obviously that’s not feasible. The books that you can get for cheap and within a day the Library usually has enough copies of anyhow. The book is either lost or stolen and Lord only knows the likelihood it’ll be found before the end of term let alone in time to write an essay for.

Last night, Fr. Emerson popped up from Edinburgh and gave a talk on the Hapsburg dynasty. It was tremendously interesting. I learned so much I hadn’t known before and it opened up a terrific number of avenues of information down which I have only begun to stroll.

I had no idea how remarkable a man Franz Ferdinand was. All they teach you in America is “This is the guy who got shot” instead of “This man would have been the savior of all that is good and holy in Europe.”

I have seen and read a lot of what Europe is today; Fr. Emerson gave us a glimpse of what Europe was yesterday, before the utter destruction of the social order of the continent by that moment in Sarajevo and everything that came after it. Knowing what Europe was, how depressing to see it now!

It also filled me with some optimism, oddly enough. I used to be partly in the school of thought that’s convinced that Europe is lost. If this is how Europe was, surely it could be again? Perhaps, perhaps not. (more…)

Thanksgiving is one of the things you miss most when you’re abroad. A., Chris, Dave, Jenny, and Za-Za were kind enough to host a Thanksgiving at their residence on Queens Gardens last Friday, since we don’t get Thanksgiving Day itself off. (more…)

I don’t think I have often used this blog for the purpose of a whine, but in this instance, I shall, for my irritation is searing.

There is very little I despise more than writing essays. I despise writing essays with an unquenchable passion that knows no end. It is an excercise from which I draw absolutely no pleasure or reward at all. I don’t even get the feeling of satisfaction or relief one usually gets after having completed an endeavor, and I certainly don’t get good grades. (Just good enough to graduate, which is good enough for me).

Once you’ve finished 2,000 words on French control of Algeria in 1871, then you’ve 3,500 on the extent to which Church involvement in politics is desireable and appropriate. And a presentation on the Coronation service and its elements.

At least Modern History students aren’t required to write 40,000 word dissertations like some departments. We get off with an 8,000 word Special Honours Project or something. I think if I were forced to write 12,000 words I’d sooner kidnap the Chancellor’s King Charles Spaniel and hold it hostage until I negotiated an exemption (though Sir Kenneth would probably die of a cardiac arrest if faced with such a situation).

I’m not saying we shouldn’t have to do them, or that I particularly deserve an exemption from writing essays (though I certainly wouldn’t turn down that offer!). I just absolutely despise writing them.

I very rarely have the mental capacity to sit down and devote my mind to one topic for five minutes, let alone more. (Concentration has never been my strong point). The knowledge that this essay, which I have had to devote useless hours of study and writing to complete, will only ever be read by one (perhaps two) other people, further fills my mind with hatred. What a waste! Anything of any worth I have learned so far whilst at university has been learned either in conversation (be it in the pub or the seminar room) or through individual study, most likely not related to any of my courses.

To heck with them all!

Fr. Emerson will be returning to to Canmore next week to give a talk on the Hapsburgs.

Yesterday, whilst plotting reaction deep within the Cellar Bar on Bell St, the subject of the Catholic landing in Maryland came up. The event took place on March 25, 1634, when the passengers of the Ark and the Dove disembarked upon the shores of Terra Mariae, held a Mass, and then hewed a Cross out of felled trees, raising it while saying the Litany of the Holy Cross.

Surely these three elements of Angledom, Catholicism, and America make March 25 a festival of the apex of civilization?

The Ark and the Dove were the subject of a rejected proposal for the Maryland state quarter.

Anyhow, descendants of the passengers of the Ark and the Dove might be interested in joining the Society of the Ark and the Dove, the insiginia of which can be seen below. (Image courtesy of the Hereditary Society Community).

The latest edition of the City Journal presents a wonderful vision for Hell’s Kitchen, the Manhattan neighborhood which has been slated for a massive redevelopment. The Journal commissioned a number of the world’s leading classicists in the field of architecture to design skyscrapers that fit into the City Planning Commission’s recommendations for the new ‘Hudson Boulevard’ which is planned for the ‘Far West Side’ (the newest catchy rebranding for Hell’s Kitchen since ‘Clinton’ failed to take off).

(more…)

Rocco Buttiglione has announced plans to found a movement to campaign for Christian values in the European public sphere. For my friends on the home side of the pond who haven’t been keeping up with the Buttiglione controversy, here’s the gist: (more…)

Those fretting about our recent divisive election in the United States should turn for a moment to the Republic of Transnistria. President Igor Nikolayevich Smirnov has so united the people of his unrecognised independent republic that he was elected with 103.6% of the vote in the northern region. Andrewcusack.com: your leading source for Transnistrian news.

Transnistria on Wikipedia.

Courtesy of Churchbuilding Architects, Inc., I bring you the whirling dervish cleric of St. Nicholas Church, Evanston, Illinois. It’s funny, until you realise it’s real.

Gerald Warner in this week’s Scotland on Sunday: priceless.

Some choice bits:

And in response to Mrs. Kerry’s “shove it”:

The whole thing has a feel of – in the parlance of our generation – “Ohhhh snap! He went there”. Monoculus floreat!

Read the whole thing, if you dare.

Armavirumque chimes in with some sad news of the Yale Club, which has some of the greatest facilities of any private club in the City, conveniently located next to Grand Central. (Although this would’ve been more convenient in the days when long-distance trains ran into Grand Central).

Anyway, James Panero can do the talking:

I seem to recall that St Andrews grads are allowed to join the Yale Club, thus I mourn for its partial deterioration. Nonetheless, presumably the Club isn’t run from the top-down but accountable to its members. They need to start a reactionary front to seize the reins of power.

Perhaps there ought to be a St Andrews University Club. Small and comfortable, owing to the comparitive scarcity of St Andreans in the metropolitan area. A library modeled on the King James Library, a dining hall modeled on Parliament Hall, a ballroom based on Younger Hall, and of course a smaller version of St Salvator’s Chapel (clubs ought to have chapels, after all). And rather than stick it in the Clubland of the 40’s, why not Fifth Avenue on the Park, or maybe Riverside Drive if we’re willing to brave the West Side. Bah, fantasy.

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