His Eminence, Keith Patrick O’Brien, the Cardinal Archbishop of St Andrews & Edinburgh visited St Andrews today, and offered the holy sacrifice of the Mass in the ruins of the Cathedral. It was the first time the Cardinal was in St Andrews since receiving his honorary degree last June. Above are Canon Halloran, our parish priest and Catholic chaplain to the University, and His Eminence.

It was unusually cold today and the ruins of the Cathedral were windswept, but we held fast and stayed for the whole mass. (There were about fifty or so in attendance). His Eminence even gave the final blessing and dismissal in Latin, after which he lead us in facing east and chanting the Salve Regina. Then we were all off to the parish hall for some tea, coffee, and cake. (more…)

This morning after the 9:00am Mass we learned that Fr. Patrick Burke has been summoned to the Eternal City for a job at the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith. Fr. Burke, who was Convener of the University of St Andrews Union Debating Society (f. 1794) and President of the Catholic Society during his undergraduate days, is just about the best (diocesan) priest in Scotland.

Oft-described as a Rhodesian-born English priest of a Scottish diocese who’s spent more time in Italy than anywhere else and speaks German to boot, Fr. Burke has a massive following at his alma mater. He is currently a parish priest in Stirling and Bannockburn as well as editor of Faith magazine. We were all elated to hear of his appointment, though the precise details of it are unknown at the moment, though we are saddened that it means he will likely be unavailable for his popular, informative, and hilarious talks at Canmore anymore.

A brilliant academic with excellent pastoral skills as well; not a common combination. We wish him all the best.

This afternoon, Miss Breed and I were sitting in the Common Room at Canmore attempting to study for our Art and Piety exam on Tuesday and would you know, the young lady has never even heard of Sutton Place nor Beekman Place? Sometimes I think if she hadn’t gone to Brearley and then St Andrews she’d never’ve left Soho. And that would be a tragedy. What is this world coming to?

Meanwhile Mr. Brenner inquires as to why I stated my preference for Murray Hill among the neighborhoods of Manhattan. It is somewhat on the quieter side of things, it has one of the best parishes in the Archdiocese (the Church of Our Saviour) and is within walking distance of another (my beloved St. Agnes), is home to the Union League Club, the English-Speaking Union, and other institutions, and the general tendency of the architecture is fairly attractive. Why not?

Alright, there are plenty of desirable districts in Manhattan. Sutton Place/Beekman Place, Carnegie Hill, Yorkville, Riverside Drive, some parts of Greenwich Village, and up top Hudson Heights and the Fort Tryon Park area aren’t bad. Depending on the accomodation, I’d be happy to live in any of those areas; especially one of those wonderful nostalgic neo-Dutch buildings on the West Side, or something neo-Georgian on the East Side.

Anyhow, for the edification of Miss Breed, here are the B&TC on Sutton Place, and the City Review as well.

Marty Browne, a loyal reader from Queens, has brought to my attention that a hooplah has taken place in a few media outlets recently concerning our beloved New York Sun. Essentially, two memos written by Robert Messenger, deputy managing editor of the Sun, were somehow leaked to Gawker, Gotham’s flitty rumor mill, and posted on May 11, 2005.

The two memos deal with the state of the Sun at the moment and highlights some concerns over its long-term future, suggesting something of a ‘back to basics’ course for the three-year old conservative broadsheet. Our friend Mr. Browne was concerned enough to write a letter to the editor cautioning against changing our beloved Sun, bar adding a few more voices from the old right (advice which should be heeded). But having read the memo, I think it offers a frank analysis of the paper today and productive suggestions for the direction it should go in.

Essentially, what the Sun has to do is decide what it will be. It would be excellent if New York could have a general interest conservative broadsheet newspaper. However, given the overwhelmingly liberal market, I doubt the city’s ability to support such an endeavour; a luxury we sadly cannot afford.

In the mad media market of Manhattan, the most reliable option for the Sun is not as a general interest paper, a more financially-precarious model, but instead to find a niche in which to solidly rest. The weekly New York Observer, only born in the nineties, has a niche which gives it a fairly firm foundation provided it continues to serve it well, and the Sun should take note of that.

Thus the niche market is the way to go. What niche though? In my opinion, the New York Sun should be three things: 1) Conservative, 2) High-brow, 3) Metropolitan.

1) The Conservative Newspaper: The right-minded mustn’t just give up and concede New York as legitimately 100% liberal. This simply would not reflect reality, and the Sun must continue to provide a conservative voice on a higher scale than the populist New York Post.

2) The High-Brow Newspaper: Arts & Letters is already the most flourishing section and long may it continue. James Gardner on great on Architecture and I am absolutely loyal to the architectural historian Francis Morrone’s ‘Abroad in New York’ column every Monday. The Editorial and Opinion sections provide good sound argument and discussion, but could do with expansion.

3) The Metropolitan Newspaper: Of course it must continue to be an intrinsically New York paper. Coverage of the civic, political, and social sides of the city are essentially. This department has been pretty solid and consistent, and should only be augmented.

Should the New York Sun aim to be the conservative, high-brow, metropolitan newspaper, I believe it will be a winning formula, and set the newspaper well along on path towards becoming a great New York institution, if it isn’t one already.

(Continue reading for my thoughts on a few of Mr. Messenger’s points.)

(more…)

Today a few volunteers outside the library succesfully raised a fair amount of money for Glock Aid 2005. “What’s Glock Aid 2005?” you ask. Essentially, Chris C. (Alabama’s unwanted son) wants to buy a handgun (a Glock, to be precise) and to raise money for this endeavour he spent all morning cooking and then from midday until 4:00pm selling his baked goods outside the Main Library.

D. P., having made a donation, helps himself to some baked goods.

All sorts of people turned up and inquired about the cause. Some bought out of hunger, some bought out of desire for scrumptious brownies, and some gave from their hearts out of their desire to see Chris C. well-armed.

(more…)

Last night was spent in the Mess at Wyvern (HQ, A Sqd, TUOTC), which is one of the most delightful places in St Andrews. They have the cheapest pint in town, and even still it somehow seems you only need to drink half as much as usual to alter your consciousness.

If you are not a member of the Officer Training Corps, and I am not, then you have to be signed in by a member (2LT. Chris C. obliged) and introduced to the PMC, Tom Kerr, who lives a few floors above me and is an admirable man despite having gone to school with Dave Watt. Wyvern’s a beautiful house though, and adequately looked after by A Squadron of the Tayforth Universities Officer Training Corps.

Speaking of Mr. Watt, Dave had gone to Wine and Cheese that evening and showed up in the Mess pretty late, grievously attired in a black shirt with red stripes, accompanying tie, a white jumper, and with the obligatory blazer on top. He had hassled along some other OCDT (officer cadet) who had been at Wine and Cheese that evening to come along to the Mess. Now this chap was decked up in the more usual tweed jacket (and riding boots, without explanation) but was lacking in necktie. As one might expect, jacket and tie are de rigeur for the Mess, and once the said tie-less fellow showed up the lack of tie was noted and brought to the attention of the PMC.

Disgrace! What was to be done? A Mess Court would be convened, Tom Kerr presiding. The shameless and inebriated David Watt would provide the defense, the shameless and inebriated Chris C. the prosecution, and George Irwin, Euan Gorford, and I were appointed as jury.

Now, the poor lad in the dock, whom we shall call Oliver George Wilson, since, when asked to state his name for the court, he replied “Oll… Oll… Oliver George Wilson”. Well, the poor Oliver George Wilson could barely compose a coherent sentence, most likely due to the imbibing of wine at “Chine and Weese”, and seemed to posess very few of his own faculties and certainly even fewer of anyone else’s. Nonetheless the Prosecution opened the case charging Oliver George Wilson with entering the mess without a tie by effortlessly pointing to Oliver George Wilson sitting in the makeshift dock (actually a barstool) suffering from a complete lack of any form of neck attire bar
the collar of his shirt.

I began to have my suspicions as to the integrity of the court when I, a member of the jury, was called to testify on behalf of the prosecution. Now, the questions interrogated of me and the responses freely, and I dare say deftly, given are not for stating in the public realm. Nonetheless they were of a such a nature as to make the padre blush (or so Gorford told me when I left the stand and returned to the jury), and the denizens of the Mess were rollicking, so in my humble opinion it’s all for the better.

The defense was then given the opportunity to state their case, which was lacking. [Note to self: if in trouble, never call on Dave Watt to act as my defense]. Mr. Watt threw out some rambling, barely grammatical sentences in a highly dramatic style which he no doubt hoped would distract the jury from the matter at hand. It was to no effect, as the jury of three — and a fine jury it was, mind you, one of the best juries in the land — as I was saying, the jury of George, Euan, and I were pretty much convinced by the defense’s argument and my own stand in the witness box and thus Oll… Oll… Oliver George Wilson was convicted on all charges. Lord Chief Justice Kerr sentenced the delinquent to an “H.M.S. Wyvern” which involves drinking lots of gin and being turned around incessentantly, this processes being repeated four times in some vaguely nautical fashion while singing, not their own A Squadron ditty, but instead the B Squadron (Dundee University) song, to the tune ‘Cwm Rhondda’ aka Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer:

Dundee, frightful. Oliver George Wilson didn’t even chunder (at least not in the faux German helmet in the Mess designated for such a purpose), and thus a good time was had by all.

The Parks Department have unveiled their plans for the renvoation of Washington Square Park. I thouroughly approve. The main point is the replacement of the fountain with one along the axis of the Arch. This is a great improvement. The current layout of the Square is from when the road arrangement allowed you to drive through it, through the Arch in fact. When the Square was completely pedestrianised, they merely redirected and turned the former roads into paths, without any general rethink of the Square’s arrangement. The new plan orients the park around the Arch’s axis, which terminates on the N.Y.U. Catholic Church on Washington Square South. Unfortunately, the Church is a grievous 1970’s monstrosity ripe for being torn down and replaced by some of the bright gang from Notre Dame. (more…)

THIS AFTERNOON, Fr. Emerson and I paid a visit to the former Catholic Apostolic Church on Mansfield Place in Edinburgh, which is today the Mansfield Traquair Centre. The Catholic Apostolic Church, quite often called the Irvingites after the Church of Scotland minister who laid the basis for its creation, were a curious lot. A discussion of the CAC can be found here at Ship of Fools and, of course, Wikipedia has an article on them. Due to a number of wealthy converts as well as being fairly strict on tithing, the Irvingites were able to build some extraordinarily beautiful buildings, of which the Mansfield Place church is one. Vacated by the Catholic Apostolic Church in 1958, it is now used as a performance venue, and two floors of offices created in the crypt space (entered through a spiral staircase in what was the baptistery) provide a home for the Scottish Council of Voluntary Organisations. (more…)

Commandant, Old Guard of the City of New York.

Today I:

1. Practically wrote an entire essay in one day and handed it in and I think it was pretty good. I know, that’s nothing special, but I’ve never done it before, and it took up the preponderance of the day.
2. Went to a celebratory birthday brunch for Maria.
3. Participated in the Second Annual Bumblebee Hunt held under the auspices of the St Andrews branch of the Sons of Confederate Veterans. The winning bumblebee was a big one, which was christened Algernon Deathbee. He will be tied to a string which will be tacked to a table at the Officer Training Corps Ball tonight. (I am not attending).
4. Managed to fit in a walk on the beach with Lizzy and Nicholas.

Next on the agenda… get a bit of research done for the next essay, then out for dinner and drinks at the Jigger for Maria’s birthday, then hopefully get started on the speech I have to give at a dinner tommorrow night.

The Charity Polo is tommorrow, and it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day, but I’m not sure if I’ll go. Vichy France looms on the horizon, and I’ve got the hush-hush dinner in the evening to boot.

Oh fiddlesticks, I’ve forgotten to return these short loan books. Got to run.

In this week’s Spectator, the ‘poor little Greek boy’ Taki informs us of a feud between the Dorothy Parker Society and the F. Scott Fitzgerald Society. Apparently the DPS invited the FSFS to a big to-do at the Algonquin and the FSFS didn’t even respond. “I get all this info from my favourite Big Bagel paper, the Sun, or the Sharon, as I call it, because of the line it follows where Israel is concerned.” I love the Sun, and I’m very glad Taki has discovered our favorite New York daily. He continues:

Moving along…

I seem to have misplaced or thrown out (shudder!) the Speccie with Paul Johnson’s salient words urging and young people with talent in Britain to move to America, but if I do find it, I shall post his words of hope.

I came across this illustration of the original plan for Grant’s Tomb in Riverside Park on the Upper West Side, back home in New York. The differences are conceptually slight, except for the complete lack of this grand staircase and triumphal arched watergate on the Hudson River, which was never constructed. It would be an intriguing addition if built, but I think slightly awkward, as it leads up to the side of the mausoleum, rather than the front. Had the tomb been constructed with its orienation towards the Hudson rather than on the axis of the long Riverside Park, it might be sucessful, but otherwise, it was wise of the city fathers not to execute this part of the plan.

For more views of Grant’s Tomb, see the Bridge and Tunnel Club’s page.

Our own Professor John Haldane, of the Philosophy Department here at St Andrews, has written a very calm and sensible commentary on the Holy Father. You can read it here. Read the whole thing through; like much of Haldane’s writing, it’s unexciting but informative and well thought-out, and wary of brash pronouncements.

Deo gratias! The white smoke came billowing forth from the Sistine Chapel, the bells rung out the election of a new pope, and a number of us made our way to Canmore to watch our new pontiff be announced to Rome and the world. The tension, the excitement, the hope! Would it be Ratzinger? Surely not! We should be so lucky. Oh please, let it be Ratzinger! The waiting. The BBC commentators who are completely alien to the church blabbing on. Let us see him! Who will it be? There’s no way it could be Ratzinger: that would be too good to be true! Wait, here comes the announcement. All of us jumped out of our seats and grabbed hold of one another. The cardinal begins his announcement…

“Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger.”

A wave of jubliation swept over us. We were dreaming? Could it possibly be true? We cheered, we cried, we laughed, we hugged eachother, kissed, shook hands. Deo gratias! Our prayers have been answered. All of us are full of immense hope for the years to come. This is what John Paul II spent his pontificate preparing for. And some amongst us will be going to World Youth Day. A German pope in a German city for World Youth Day! Imagine that! It’s still somewhat hard to believe. I’ve been coughing and sniffling like mad since I’ve got a cold, but no worries. We will always remember this day. And there shall be much rejoicing and imbibing tonight.

Now begins the arduous task of rebuilding the Church. We have had a prophet to inspire us, now we will have a king to lead us. In the world, not of it. Eternity, not modernity! Onwards and upwards. With the grace of God.

Long live Benedict XVI!

Once again it is Procession Day here in St Andrews, when we have the annual Kate Kennedy Procession to harken the return of springtime. Unfortunately, like last year, it was on the cold side and rather grey, despite some truly beautiful days previously.

For those of you who don’t know it, the Kate Kennedy procession is a medieval rite of spring which was resurrected in the past century. Kate Kennedy, according to lore, was the niece of Bishop James Kennedy, the founder of St. Salvator’s College. Owing to her beauty, a procession was held in spring in her honor, according to lore. Eventually, these became pretty rowdy, and as such were banned in the 19th century. In the 1920’s, Donald Kennedy, an indirect descendant of Bishop Kennedy himself, decided the resurrect the procession and founded the Kate Kennedy Club for this distinct purpose.

The Club admits nine new members each year from the bejant (first year) class. One of these is selected to portray the comely Kate Kennedy in the Procession, and is joined by the eight other bejants as sheild-bearers, and other students, members, and friends of the University who dress up as important figures from the history of town and gown. (more…)

No one quite knows how often the Gifford Lectures are. Some people say they’re every three years. I thought they were every year, and they are spread amongst the four ancients of Scotland (St Andrews, Aberdeen, Glasgow, Edinburgh). But we hosted them in my first year and already have them again. And our own Professor John Haldane (alledgedly the only theist in the School of Philosophy) is concurrently giving the Gifford Lectures at Aberdeen, supposedly. Go figure.

Anyhow, on Tuesday commenced the ambigu-annual (ambiguennale, I am told, is the word the Italians use) Gifford Lectures here at St Andrews, by none other than the most-eminent Professor Alvin Plantinga of the University of Notre Dame. Unfortunately, I had to miss this one, as I had work to do. The title was ‘Evolution and Design’ and it basically demonstrated that there is no conflict between evolution (even Darwinian concepts of evolution) and the idea of design by the Creator as advocated by Christians.

Wednesday, I attended a lecture by Irving Lavin of Princeton University entitled ‘The Story of O from Giotto to Einstein’. It tracked the fascinating tale of Giotto’s ‘O’ from the perhaps aprocryphal tale all the way to an etching of Einstein, via calligraphy, Rembrandt, Jasper Johns, and others. Difficult to quite explain it, but most enlightening. Also, it was about an hour and a half but felt more like forty-five minutes.

Yesterday, I did attend, and Platinga demonstrated in his second Gifford Lecture that there is a conflict between the naturalist/materialist idea that the universe is a closed system because there is no demonstratable evidence of such, nor is it even observable. Thus science cannot really have anything to do with the idea of the closed universe, and it is left to metaphysics. So all the silly liberal posturing about the ridiculousness of miracles is, in effect, ridiculous itself, and most unscientific.

Thankfully, Professor Plantinga is a very good lecture, balancing clarity, thoroughness, joviality, and asides quite adroitly. The next is on Tuesday: ‘Evolutionary Psychology and Scripture Scholarship: more alike than you think’.

Tonight, I’m off to the theatre to see the late Arthur Miller’s ‘The Creation of the World and Other Business’. Apparently some sort of retelling of the Genesis narrative. A fellow son of the Empire State, second-year John MacDonald, is among the cast of this production. We look forward to it.

ORDER OF SERVICE

Entrance (silence)

(The officiant then organises the various sections of newspaper into the order in which they shall be read. Frivolities, such as ‘Gardening’, ‘Motoring’, and ‘Money & Business’, are discarded.)

First Reading: The Daily Telegraph, first section

Second Reading: The Financial Times, first section

First Glance: The Daily Telegraph, Weekend section (Rarely anything worth reading inside, but tradition requires at least a glance)

Third Reading: The Daily Telegraph, Property section

Nourishment: A sugar doughring from Fisher & Donaldson’s (Members of all newspaper-reading denominations are invited to partake, but are encouraged to abide by the rules of their respective communities)

Fourth Reading: The Financial Times, Weekend section (The best weekend section there is. Short and varied.)

Second Glance: The Daily Telegraph, Travel section (Ditto notes on Telegraph Weekend section)

Fifth Reading: FT Magazine

Final flip through the pages: (ruffle, ruffle, ruffle)

Exit. (The assembled then disperse and carry on with their day).

One of my favorite campuses (campii?) in the world is the Royal Hospital at Greenwhich. The site was originally home to the Palace of Placentia, a royal palace built by Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester in 1428. Placentia was the primary royal residence for two centuries up unto the Civil War, after which it fell into ruin. In 1694, the Royal Naval Hospital for Seamen was established as a home for old sailors, and grandiose architecture was required to show the monarchic splendor of a royal foundation. (more…)

I received such complaints regarding my opinion of the University Club that I offer up these images as a peace offering. Above, an elevation of the 54th St façade.

A view from Fifth Avenue.

The oft-praised library.

Easter is my favorite day of the year, as it is always infused with a spirit of joy and thanksgiving. Despite cloudy skies, this Easter was still a most enjoyable one.

Ezra, myself, Jon, Abby, Rob, Maria, and Stefano went down to Edinburgh and heard a Tridentine mass at St. Andrew’s Church in Ravelston. Why is it that going to old rite masses always reminds me of home, wherever I hear them offered? It was a wonderful affair, as was the five-course six-hour lunch we had afterwards with some of our good friends in Edinburgh.

Yesterday I took a morning off, finally rising about midday to most undesirable weather. Cloudy, rainy, cold, most uncharming. The majority of the day was spent reading (Modern Times, by Paul Johnson, the best history book I’ve read so far) in Canmore.

Equally dismal weather, but I still roused myself to get to the coffee place on Bell Street to have breakfast with Chris C.. I paid off a poker debt by buying him breakfast. Nonetheless, dismal weather is a good excuse to get some reading done, so off I go.

Resurrexit sicut dixit, Alleluia!

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