The Roman Forum has released the daily program of this year’s Summer Symposium taking place at Gardone on Lake Garda in Italy. What a host of subjects covered! Lammenais, Americanism, St. Pius X, the economic order, legal positivism, G. K. Chesterton, Blessed Emperor Charles, Personalism, the Catholic media, Dean Swift, not to mention cocktail parties, song, and general merriment.

If one has the means but not the time, why not consider making a donation towards a full or partial scholarship? I’m told the list of applicants for scholarships is long, and these are often the most keen participants in such intellectual and social endeavours. More infomation on the Symposium can be found here.

The Viscount Philippe de Villiers is an MEP, sometime French presidential candidate, and head of the Mouvement pour la France but his brother, General Pierre de Villiers, has just been named personal Chief of Staff to the President of the Republic (whose name we refrain from mentioning, lest we feel compelled to boo and hiss). Given this recent appointment, we reckon that General de Villiers outranks his brother in the grand apparatus of state; Chef d’etat-major particulier beats President of the General Council of the Vendée.

There is, however, at least one regard in which the civilian has his military brother beat: Pierre only has six children, Philippe has seven.

Over at the Guardian (Britain’s best daily, whether you like it or not!), Rome correspondent John Hooper writes an informative article about the upcoming beatification of Spanish journalist Manuel Lozano Garrido (1920-1971). I’d never heard of “Lolo”, as the saintly journo was known both during his life and afterwards, and was happy to be introduced to yet another shining star of Spain’s happy glut of twentieth-century saints & blesseds.

Lozano Garrido, Mr. Hooper informs us, “wrote his first article for — and went on to edit — a magazine called Cruzada (Crusade). That was a pretty loaded title for a publication of the time because, in the language of the dictatorship, ‘cruzada’ referred to the campaign Franco pursued with ruthless and bloody determination against any Spaniard who dared to hold opinions much to the left of fascism.”

Up to a point Lord Copper! For a Christian periodical — written by Christian journalists, read by Christian people, in a Christian country — to have the name “Crusade” hardly seem loaded at all, despite the Spanish state’s contemporaneous use of the word cruzada. But this is incidental and entirely beside the point.

Mr. Hooper wonders where Lozano Garrido fits in to the bigger picture of Spanish journalism at the time because, Hooper claims, “by approving his beatification, Pope Benedict is sending a message to the world about the sort of journalism that he regards as worthwhile”.

Well, in a word: no. As Hooper admits, “Lolo” isn’t being beatified because of his journalism but because of his heroic virtues exhibited in the face of suffering. In a sense, his journalism has nothing to do with it. If he had been a baker of rye bread instead of a journalist, would we extrapolate that Benedict XVI is sending a message to the world about the sort of bread he regards as worthwhile? Of course not. It simply does not follow.

I know, it’s disgraceful. Wasn’t this place just redesigned in November? That was practically yesterday! Still, one is sometimes bitten by a bug and must simply get it out of one’s system without complaining. I hope readers will forgive this recent set of changes; I’m sure you are all as opposed to change as I am.

This is perhaps the most radical redesign of our little corner of the web ever. The front page at andrewcusack.com now features little snippets and extracts from the latest posts, but blog posts can still be viewed in the previous, chronological fashion by clicking ‘Blog Index’ in the left-hand column.

The Google ads have returned, and I hope our readers will be vigilant in rooting out any nefarious or inappropriate ads that the lords of misrule place mischievously in our midst. The way to point out an inappropriate ad is to note the web address (www.whatever-it-is.com, for example) and to e-mail me so that I can add that address to the banned list.

“Chiara,” I asked, “How will you ever know whether your friends are truly your friends or if they really just love your pumpkin risotto?” “You know,” she replied in her thick Italian accent, “this is a serious problem!” The possibility of never cooking pumpkin risotto again was mooted, but wholeheartedly condemned by all in attendance. The very thought was an affront to our salivating taste buds. (more…)

Followers of Seraphic’s blog will doubtless have read of my Caledonian misadventure, whereby I was kidnapped by the inhabitants of an historic house in East Lothian. This update was followed by the Sexagesima Social Report, detailing our Sunday Mass, followed by the Cup of Tea of Peace, followed by the Gin & Tonic of Fortitude. Pleasant as my enforced captivity was, various duties in London obliged me to cooperate with the successful rescue effort made, curiously, by Royal Dutch Commandos.

Further ruminations on my Britannic sojourn are forthcoming.

A long-time reader suggests “If your readers could put any question to you, what do you think they would ask?” Well, I have no clue, but it seemed like an intriguing idea to find out. If you have a question — any question, on any subject from breakfast to boomerangs, so long as it’s decent — send along an email to the address given in the right-hand column, making sure to have ‘QUESTION FOR CUSACK’ in the subject line. The best, most interesting, illuminating, simplest, and strangest questions will be chosen and answered in due course.

In the mean time, this blog is going on a temporary hiatus (UPDATE: or rather, by the end of this week). I have made use of my gradually accumulated hoard of frequent-flyer miles and in just over a week I will be fleeing to Britain for a fortnight, hoping to advance somewhat on the job front, or at the very least lay the foundations for such an advance. I should return within the octave of Saint Valentine, and I hope the various blogs, sites, and journals in our sidebar will provide some stimulation and interest for you until that point.

The reader will be happy to note that he owes this blog absolutely nothing. We provide no services nor supply any goods. We merely, like the creatures of old, exist and (God willing) will continue to exist. Nonetheless, little corners of the web such as our own do require some small monetary resources to make up for the cost of maintenance, and the frightening “domain-renewal” warnings from “service providers” have already reached our electronic pigeonhole. I should be rather embarrassed if the forces of subversion and revolution take hold of our precious andrewcusack.com, and you & I both be forced to flee for some other pasture, but this can easily be prevented should those few amongst you who are not beset by perils in “the current economic climate” send a shekel or two towards the maintenance fund. A little token of appreciation for all our munificent benefactors is currently in the planning stages.

P.S.: If exigencies do force this little corner of the web to close, rest assured that most of its information has been downloaded and saved, so that it can be uploaded again should the time come when that is appropriate.

Dino Marcantonio, habitual luncheon companion of your humble & obedient scribe, not to mention frequent commenter upon this little corner of the web, has entered into the realms of blogging himself. You can find his musings on the theory and practice of architecture here. They make for some pretty good reading so far.

« In the restaurant on the Rue Saint-Augustin, M. Mirande would dazzle his juniors, French and American, by dispatching a lunch of raw Bayonne ham and fresh figs, a hot sausage in crust, spindles of filleted pike in a rich rose sauce Nantua, a leg of lamb larded with anchovies, artichokes on a pedestal of foie gras, and four or five kinds of cheese, with a good bottle of Bordeaux and one of champagne, after which he would call for the Armagnac and remind Madame to have ready for dinner the larks and ortolans she had promised him, with a few langoustes and a turbot — and, of course, a fine civet made from the marcassin, or young wild boar, that the lover of the leading lady in his current production had sent up from his estate in the Sologne.

“And while I think of it,” I once heard him say, “we haven’t had any woodcock for days, or truffles baked in the ashes, and the cellar is becoming a disgrace — no more ’34s and hardly any ’37s. Last week, I had to offer my publisher a bottle that was far too good for him, simply because there was nothing between the insulting and the superlative.” »

Charles Courtney Curran, Early Morning, Madison Square
Oil on canvas, 22 in. x 18 in.
1900, National Arts Club, New York

Readers will by now have doubtless heard of the immense devastation that has been wreaked upon Haiti by yesterday’s earthquake. There may be as many as hundreds of thousands of dead and the level of destruction is appalling. Among the many buildings destroyed is the Cathedral of Port-au-Prince, and its archbishop, Joseph Serge Miot, has been confirmed as dead. The first of Malteser International’s medical teams will arrive tomorrow (Thursday) to provide emergency relief to the people in Haiti. Donations towards the Order of Malta’s earthquake relief efforts can be made here.

Left, contemplating the winter snow. Right, contemplating how the deuce a bear of his particular stature can light the Easter candle.

Over at The Hermeneutic of Continuity, Fr. Finigan points out the website of the Roman Forum, which (as it happens) was recently renovated by none other than yours truly. The Roman Forum is an excellent institution which organizes a church history lecture series here in New York, special colloquia such as the Syllabus of Errors weekend I recently attended, and of course its renowned Summer Symposium every year at Gardone on Lake Garda in Italy.

The theme of this year’s symposium is The Politics of Faith and Reason? Or the Triumph of the Will?. The list of illustrious names who will be in attendance this coming summer is indeed impressive: Jamie Bogle, the Chesterton Society’s Dale Ahlquist, Msgr. Barreiro, the Spanish jurist Miguel Ayuso, James Kalb, “Front Porcher” John Médaille, and Fr. Richard Trezza, who often says the old Mass at St. Agnes in New York on Sundays. And my friend Josh Copeland will be singing.

Each day involves three lectures (morning and before dinner), with sung Mass at noon, and musical and theatrical entertainments take place in the evenings after dinner. For years I’ve heard testimony from Gardone-goers about how enlightening, entertaining, and fun these ten-day symposia are, but I’ve not yet been able to attend myself.

The Roman Forum’s events are among the splendid outposts of civilization that preserve the animated spirit of the Faith so aptly captured by Hilaire Belloc’s lines: “Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine / There’s always laughter and good red wine.” I hope some of our readers will take a gander at their site and consider attending some of the numerous events they organize.

Fans, foes, and other followers of that favoured son of Granby, Mr. Stefan M. Beck, can track his hoots, wails, and whinnies at this new locale. The site archives a number of Stefan’s writings as well as containing his food blog, where, most recently, you can investigate the Ulster fry. Past mentions of Beck can be found here, including my favourite mental image of “wearing a bearskin and sacrificing holly-crowned virgins to Wotan”.

Ironically, Baroness Scotland is the Attorney-General for England, Wales, and Northern Ireland, but not Scotland.

Our Tibetan word of the day is Rum-yül, the language’s traditional word for “Europe”.

The word literally means “Rome-land”, giving a certain Bellocian tone to the Tibetan language — it was Belloc, after all, who said “Europe is the Faith; the Faith is Europe”.

A reader has pointed out that, in all my posts on South Africa, those who frequent this little corner of the web have not seen so much as a single shot of your humble & obedient scribe in that southerly land. Such lack of photographic evidence, our correspondent argues, could provoke a wealth of conspiracy theories locating me, alternatively, within the deep recesses of the Vatican, training a small fighting force in the Salzkammergut, or, somewhat implausibly, in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.

(In truth, I have very, very few pictures of myself, as I am usually the one taking the pictures — some of which are electronically submitted for your approval here.)

And so, dear readers, you will find above a photograph of yours truly on one of my trips to Betty’s Bay, that splendid corner of the Cape.

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