City Hall, now Borough Hall, in Brooklyn, from the Historic American Buildings Survey at the Library of Congress.

What?!? You still don’t read the New York Sun? Well you’re a fool then. I used to think the Daily Telegraph was the greatest newspaper in the English-speaking world, but now I think it’s got to be the New York Sun. It’s the quality hometown newspaper for the greatest town that ever was.

Almost like comparing the City of New York to the New York Times, the Sun is more colorful, less pretentious, loves America, and is a million times more interesting. The only way the Times is more like New York than the Sun is that the Times is so big you can never get through all of it at once.

In yesterday’s Sun there was a fascinating profile of ‘the Rev’ (photo below), the men’s room attendant in the 21 Club. It was absolutely fascinating to find out about a gem of a man such as he. Reading the Times is arduous and depressing, whilst reading the Sun is informative and pleasing.

Purchasing an online subscription to the Sun was the wisest investment I think I’ve ever made. And economical as well at a mere $16.50 per quarter (with free 4-week trial period), allowing me to cancel for the quarter of the year I can actually buy the paper edition. Most satisfying.

Perhaps you should join me in reading A history of New York, from the beginning of the world to the end of the Dutch Dynasty by Diedrich Knickerbocker, Washington Irving’s superb masterpiece of New York mythology. Above is an old rendering of Sunnyside, Washington Irving’s home in Tarrytown.

I’m in the midst of Book II, the more interesting part. However, reading books online is rather irritating, and a strain on the old eyes, so I might give in sometime soon and get Ottakar’s to order it in. (Actually, I might be able to get a nifty ‘thift edition’ on Amazon.co.uk). Sadly, Ottakar’s don’t believe in stocking the classics of New York literature. And so we must mourn for them.

St Andreans were all quite intrigued by the arrival of an Ottakar’s branch, but it’s turned out to be all in vain. Though it is bigger than any other bookshop in town, that’s not saying much, and the rumours that it would be two floors have turned out to be woefully untrue. Give me the Strand and it’s eighteen miles of books (used to be just eight miles) any day of the week.

Chain bookstores are atrocious anyhow and are best avoided when it comes to purchasing. Whenever I feel like book browsing in Westchester, if I don’t feel satisfied by the Womrath Bookshop on Pondfield Rd in Bronxville then I will browse Border’s on White Plains Road in Eastchester (or Scarsdale, as it claims), find something interesting, and order it from Womrath’s. The Strand is the best because it gives you 1) the varied selection usually only available at massive chain stores, 2) the quality of service of independent bookshops, and 3) the added bonus of used books, which are quite often better editions than more recent reissues. Eighteen miles of books, people! That’s insane.

Woke up at 9:00 this morning and had ‘breakfast’ at the Northpoint Café with C.. I put the word in quotations because breakfast ought to imply a meal, but owing to the Northpoint’s scant menu, breakfast meant buttered toast and a pot of tea. At least it was only £2.00.

The topics of conversation were of the usual C. n’ Cusack ilk: How ridiculous Britain is, how brilliant the States are, delving into meaningless and ultimately feckless points of argument, hoping for the downfall of world Islam, and recalling past misadventures as well as plotting new ones.

I think the only reason we ever have breakfast at the Northpoint is because Afghan president Hamid Karzai had tea there when he was in town last year, and Chris has some sort of bizarre fascination with this.

“French Algeria 1830-1962” was at 11:00am, with Dr. Stephen Tyre. A fascinating class of five students which we usually manage to steer onto some even more fascinating tangent, which itself usually tangentalizes onto football somehow. Today was all about Abd el-Qadir and his jihad. We also discussed an Islamic figure in 1840’s Algeria who claimed his goat was the Prophet Mohammed and sparked a brief uprising. Oh those wacky savages and their messianic goats!

Read quite a lot during the afternoon, had spaghetti bolognese from Pizza Connection across the street (since Jocelyn has Mondays off), and then popped down to the Cellar Bar for a pint of de Konick with Robert O’Brien, Maria Bramble, “Ishmael”, and Jon Burke – an assemblage which ought to be collectively known as the Inappropriate Joke Squadron. Classic.

“Monarchy, Church, and State” tommorrow with the indomitable Rev. Dr. Ian C. Bradley. I think I shall have to abandon or change my Hapsburg essay plans owing to lack of adequate sources.

Last night I had a few people over for dinner and drinks that lasted until 1:00am. Jocelyn, our trusted agent of culinary perfection, and Jenny, whose ancestors had beastly things done to them by Chinese pirates, cooked up a splendid shepherd’s pie. On the receiving end of said pie were fellow American Rob (one of Jocie’s choir friends), apostate Catholic and former Literary Society president David Taylor, Mitre associate editor and former Catholic Society president Robert O’Brien, his fiancée and my good friend Maria Bramble, current Catholic Society president Matthew Gorrie, California’s prettiest Antiochian Orthodox girl Abigail Hesser (engaged to an Aussie), and Connecticut’s prettiest Choate grad, Kat ‘Kiki’ Murphy.

Jocie and Jenny left for the Byre shortly after dinner to meet up with a friend of theirs. We were then joined by traditionalist/OTC/Old Cliftonian Jon Burke and the legendary Blackpudlian, “Ishmael”.

I think we got through four or five bottles of wine if not more, at least one bottle of port, and luckily not too much of my whiskey. We just about went through our entire retinue of politically-incorrect jokes as well. One of the highlights of the evening was getting the former ‘most enthusiastic man in St Andrews’ on the phone: none other than the great Peter Cox. We had all had a fair amount to drink and decided calling Brussels wasn’t a bad idea. True to form, Peter Cox was enthusiastic as ever, explained that he is organising things for the upcoming World Youth Day and working in a youth hostel to pay the bills. The man is brilliant.

We listened to half of Bach’s Mass in B Minor, our favourite Breton/French hip-hop/jazz group Manau and the obligatory Smashing Pumpkins.

One of my flatmates left his KK tie lying around, and Jon Burke decided to put it on. Fair enough. Unfortunately, Burke forgot he had it on, left my place and proceeded to Ma Bell’s – one of the preferred night spots for members of the Kate Kennedy Club. Of course the first KKer who observed Jon and his illegitimate usage of club neckware gave him a right verbal bollicking. Still, nothing nearly as bad as what happened when Paul Pennyfeather ran into the inebriated members of the Bollinger Club wearing his old school tie which was surprising similar to that of the Bollingers. This, of course, took place at Scone College, Oxford in Evelyn Waugh’s Decline and Fall.

David Taylor agreed to write a piece on Derrida for the next Mitre, although it’ll probably be fawning. The current crisis in modern poetry was discussed, and it was agreed that Milton is more important than Shakespeare.

“Yeah, Abby. That’s about as funny as the sack of Constantinople.”
– “Ishmael”

This photo (from Wired New York) shows the massive Queen Mary 2 lodged in its Hudson River perth beside the Queen Elizabeth 2.

Old timers can find the older (and supposedly haunted) RMS Queen Mary permanently docked in Long Beach, California.

Today we bring you the story of a man known as both Brother Louis of the Trinity, OCD, and Admiral Georges Thierry d’Argenlieu.

D’Argenlieu graduated from the Ecole Navale in Brest and was awarded the Legion d’Honneur for his actions in the Great War. After the war, he became a Carmelite friar, taking the name of Louis de la Trinité. As the Second World War commenced, he once again put on the uniform and partook in the defence of France from the pagan Nazis. Once France was vanquished, he escaped to London where he allied himself with General de Gaulle and the Free French Forces, eventually becoming the commander of the Free French Naval Forces. At the Liberation of the Paris, he strode down the Champs Elysée with de Gaulle and Leclerc and attended the Te Deum at Notre-Dame.

Incidentally, he was also the one who suggested the adoption of the Croix de Lorraine as the symbol to differentiate the Free French Forces from those of Vichy France.

In 1947 however, while Governor-General of Indochina, his request to leave the Armed Forces was granted, and he returned to life as a Carmelite, dying at the Priory of Avon in 1964.

More about Admiral d’Argenlieu/Father Louis here, here, and here.

“I hope his gerbils get better by Septuagesima.”
– E.S.

A palace coup has taken place and I have been forcibly removed from the Committee of the Literary Society. Which is fair enough. Last term I just turned up to their AGM for the free wine and to make fun of David Taylor, and somehow ended up on the committee. Besides, at the Kens club committee meeting last night, I was put on the subcommittee to organize the Christmas charity event, along with Second Lieutenant Cockburn and Herr Wyss.

Had a brilliant time at Rob’s last night on Hepburn Gardens. Maria, “Ishmael”, and I were over for dinner from 8:00 until midnight. Great conversation as always, and laughter barreling through the night. Not to mention the food was excellent. I have the utmost appreciation for those who can cook, owing to my complete incompetence in the field.

I may be taking up gardening, however, as Maria Christina has waggled me into volunteering to help out with the parish garden. I explained I know nothing about gardening, but it really couldn’t hurt to try.

Kat Murphy is a riot. We were playing Scrabble the other day in Sallies and she just said the funniest things. Sadly, I can’t remember any of them. Sic transit gloria.

Sarah Laurence Goodwin is organising a production of Our Town. Grovers Corners meets St Andrews. An interesting combination. I can rather picture the old church ladies from Holy Trin singing ‘Blest Be The Tie That Binds’. Last time I visited that little corner of New Hampshire was at Bronxville High School, with Julie McAllister as the narrator, Emma Haberl as someone, and I’m pretty sure Caroline Gill was in it too (Oh, Caro!).

Last night I attended the ordinary session of the University of St Andrews Union Debating Society. It was an altogether so-so debate, (This House Believes Harry Potter is A Danger to sometherother) with the first proposition rather overwhelming the three other speakers.

The most interesting aspect was Mr. Ralph Covino in the Chair, since the Convenor of the UDS, Mr. Peter Blair, was second prop. Mr. Covino showed himself very capable of such a task, and handled the Chair with alacrity.

My only criticism was when he mistook a portrait for Andrew Carnegie for the Marquess of Bute, which is actually all the way towards the back. It hangs approximate to the portrait of Field Marshal Jan Christiaan Smuts, replete with the coats of arms of the University (of which he was Lord Rector) and the Union of South Africa (of which he was Prime Minister — twice). (more…)

At the drinks party for bejants at Canmore the other night, my mind got wandering to whether there are any basilicas in the United Kingdom.

Rob mentioned the Basilica of Corpus Christi in Manchester, and we thought Westminster Cathedral might be a basilica, but it appears not.

Downside Abbey, however, is the Basilica of Saint Gregory the Great. Above can be seen Dom Antony Sutch, the former head of Downside, who had some very cogent criticisms of Labour education policy.

A splendid triptych from this site.

Splendid photo of an old rite mass courtesy of the Latin Mass Society of England and Wales.

An early view, only partially executed to this plan.

If anyone knows of other British basilicas, do inform us.

Links:
Catholic Encyclopedia article
Official Abbey website

UPDATE: St. Chad’s Cathedral in Birmingham — a work of Pugin — is also a basilica.

Jon Burke (aka ‘Little Jon’ to distinguish him from ‘Big John’, Dr. John Lamont, the Gifford Research Fellow) tries out a biretta whilst flipping through an old Mitre at the Societies Fair. (more…)

Last week, Robert O’Brien and two of his old school friends from Manchester (or thereabouts) gathered in the Cellar Bar along with the brilliant Miss Maria Bramble (the future Mrs. O’Brien), the inimitable Mr. Donald Renouf (aka Donocle the Monocle), and myself.

A good time was had by all, and I even got to try on the legendary monocle. A bit tricky trying to keep a monocle in one’s eye. Donald has had it for years, so is much more used to it.

Today has been altogether a wonderful day. The sky was slightly cloudy and the air had that simply brilliant, crisp, cool autumnal feel to it.

Luncheon with the Kens. Club at Broon’s lasted from 1:00pm to 4:00pm. Leek and Stilton soup with bread as a starter followed by a main course of chicken stuffed with mozzarella and wrapped in pancetta served with potatoes, and chocolate tart with vanilla ice cream to end it all. Coffee as a finale.

Discussed meta-narratives with the Club’s token postmodern deconstructivist Marxist, Mr. Thomas Leppard, as well as Mr. David Vinton’s summer on a tea plantation in India stomping around the premises on an elephant every afternoon. An informal motion was passed declaring the blunderbuss to be the official weapon of the Club.

An hour after luncheon had finally ended, there was the Vigil Mass, with the usual suspects over to Canmore for tea afterwards. Mr. Ryan Freeburn and myself discussed National Review, whilst Miss Katya Mouris and I discussed the Viceregal Salute of Canada (a fine country, despite being on the slow road to fascism). Mrs. Freeburn referred to the Great White North by the moniker of “Soviet Canuckistan” which I had not heard before.

Rob and Maria may be coming over late for a showing of Bon Voyage.

Well my godson is excommunicate. Having become a Freemason, he has now decided to attend the high Anglican church in town instead of the Catholic parish (Which at least is preferable to his remaining a Freemason and claiming to be a Catholic).

His godmother (a good friend of mine) and I tried to postpone his entry into the Church because we were afraid just this kind of thing would happen. We didn’t think three months of instruction were enough, but at the end of the day, we thought he was completely on board.

Everything else seems to be going fairly well though, minus the grim weather that hangs round these parts this time of year. Ah, to be in New England this time of year, rather than old Scotland.

Also, Tori informs me that Michael Davies has died, so we must all say a few prayers on his behalf at the next opportunity.

On a lighter note, Fr. Patrick Burke’s talk last night at Canmore went exceptionally well. The subject was “Can We Prove the Existence of God?” and Fr. Burke handled the matter with his usual alacrity and humour.

For those who don’t know of Fr. Burke, he is a graduate of St Andrews, having been Convenor of the Union Debating Society during his tenure as an undergraduate. He then went on to the Pontifical Scots College, I believe, and then the Gregorian. Fr. Burke is currently editor of Faith magazine and a parish priest in the Archdiocese of St Andrews.

Fr. Burke is one of our most popular speakers, evidenced by the fact that the Common Room at Canmore was filled to capacity, with three or four others standing in the hallway outside. Next week is Fr. Luiz Ruscillo, also of the Faith movement, also one of our popular speakers. Also, Fr. Luiz has only recently taken up saying the Tridentine rite.

If any of you receive Mass of Ages, the very well-produced magazine of the Latin Mass Society of England and Wales, you will no doubt have noticed an article on the Schola Cantorum Universitate Sancti Andreae – aka Scusa, Sophie von Hauch’s splendiferous chant choir. Definitely worth a read.

That’s all for now. There’s work to be done…

Well, I have returned to the old gray town and it is much as I have left it. Our apartment is simply splendiferous and I’ve already got my Stars-and-Stripes, Union Jack, and Rhodesian flag hanging from the walls. It’s a bit messy, half-full bottles of absinthe, Bulgarian wine, and empty glasses and the like, but we make do.

Last night, at about two o’clock, we were invaded by a contingent of the Officer Training Corps which included the infamous Paddy Levack, our man David Watt, and a good few others, including Jen, Charlie, and Emma. A bit insane, but good fun nonetheless.

Have to get out the old gown and give it a good dust off, for there is a debate tonight. It’s on some ridiculous topic, but they’ve got good speakers lined up. Peter Blair and I had to truck up to Safeway today to purchase £61.87 worth of sherry and port for the event. No worries, the Union reimburses us.

Must go!

With all the Yanks that are at St Andrews these days, I have a proposal to make. We infiltrate and take over the British Schools and Universities Club, raise some funds and thereby purchase a comfortable Upper East Side townhouse to use as our club quarters, and declare that straw boaters shall permanently, yes permanently, be in season within the confines of the Club. Perhaps the straw boater bit is a bit of an affectation, but otherwise it might be a sound idea.

It’s an idea at least. Perhaps I’ll just start my own private club (a la Boodle’s). And speaking of Boodle’s, the Foreign Aid Society of BASMOM recently held their annual dinner at Boodle’s. Anyone have any clue what sort of order or whatnot the sacerdotal chap in the middle would belong to? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a get-up myself. Though I remember seeing two priests from the Brompton Oratory in Country Life that were dressed vaguely similar.

Yet another reason why Christopher Bertram and I need to write the Field Guide to the Catholic Church.

Photos: FAS/BASMOM

It is said that Newman was not a fan of the gothic revival. When he had this church built for his Catholic University of Ireland in Dublin (since then merged into the Royal University of Ireland which became the National University of Ireland, University College Dublin), he certainly made sure it was über-byzantine. Though beautiful on the inside, it has possibly the least imposing facade of any church I’ve ever seen. Perhaps that adds to its charm.

A band of merrie gentlemen haunt the Lizard Lounge late on a Thursday evening. (more…)

… not yet gone. Cardinal Egan and his abomination squad have begun demolishing the Church of St. Thomas the Apostle in Harlem. St. Thomas is one of New York’s architectural gems, especially known for its perpindicular gothic vaulted ceiling. It has been determined that the stained glass, the worth of which may reach into the millions, cannot be removed, and so will be lost with the rest of the church. The altar is already gone, although in honesty, it was the least attractive feature at St Thomas, a bit frilly.

Preservationist M.H. Adams: The church is “the most significant structure to be destroyed in the city since Penn Station.”

Anti-Abomination.com quips “At least the moneychangers didn’t try to sell the temple.”

Gabriel Meyer, the fourth generation at Mayer of Munich (the firm that made St. Thomas’s windows), told Cardinal Egan in a letter:

But it would seem that Egan’s bureaucracy will trump history, Christian charity, and appreciation for beauty. The property will not be sold, but will be replaced by apartments to bring revenue into the Archdiocesan treasury. Cardinal Egan has done much since he ascended to the episcopal throne of our great metropolis. By this, and many other actions, he has shown his allegiance, and it is not to Christ.

(Via Fr. Jim Tucker) The Telegraph reports on the new monastery at Novy Dvur.

I have to say I rather like it. My only issue is that it ought to have a giant, massive crucifix floating above the altar. I know the whole point is supposed to be minimalism and absence but it’s ridiculous for the central feature of a church to be the absence of anything. The central feature of both The Church and any church should be Christ. So put some Christ into it.

Or perhaps if the entirety of the church were to be covered wall to wall in great pulchritudinous and polychromatic murals except the sanctuary, which would remain completely blank and white, thus focusing on the other-ness of the Eucharistic sacrifice compared to our world.

More photos. (more…)

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