Bounty replica arrives at Long Island home port
A re-creation of the 18C sailing ship HMS Bounty arrived safely at its new home on Long Island yesterday after a difficult voyage from the Maine shipyard in which it was repaired. The mock Bounty was built in 1960 for a movie about the famous 1789 mutiny in the South Pacific. The film was based on the excellent book Mutiny on the Bounty by Nordhoff & Hall.

The Russian Tea Room will close its doors
The Widening Gyre reports that this New York institution will serve its last meal tomorrow. I share his sentiments and join in his recommendation.

The most important work of art in Boston

According to a Boston Globe survey of the city's museum directors, the distinction belongs to Titian's painting The Rape of Europa in the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. This supplementary article tells the story of how it came to Boston: Once intended to be a gift from Philip III of Spain to Charles I of England, the painting was purchased in the 19C by a Bostonian, Isabella Stewart Gardner (hence the name of the museum), who claimed descent from Charles's royal house of Stuart.


It is difficult to overstate Titian's genius as an artist, and he is a personal favorite of mine. I had the special pleasure of viewing several of his works in Venice and Vienna last year; of them all, The Assumption of the Virgin -- above the high altar of the Franciscan church in Venice -- struck me as the most magnificent.

Ancient chess piece unearths game's history
A sixth century chessman discovered in a Byzantine palace in the southern Albanian city of Butrint indicates that Europeans were playing the game at least 500 years earlier than previously thought. Researchers are now investigating whether the piece is a king or queen.

Jane Austen first edition sets auction record


An anonymous collector bought a rare three-volume first edition of Pride and Prejudice at a Scottish auction yesterday for the record price of £40,991 ($64,148).


Coincidentally (as far as this blog is concerned, anyway), Martin Amis is writing a cinematic adaptation of another Austen novel, Northanger Abbey. Ron Rosenbaum, a New York Observer columnist, wrote a diverting piece a couple of months ago proposing that people could be classifed by their favorite Jane Austen novel. The centerpiece of his taxonomy was the Northanger Abbey type.

Assigning blame in 1941
A New York Times article reviews Washington's investigations into Pearl Harbor and considers their relevance to the case of Sept. 11th.

Martin Amis's War on Stalin


British author, and red diaper baby, Martin Amis has written an "indignant, angry, personal and strangely touching" (quoth The New York Times) book about the Soviet dictator's lies and murders. According to the review (which is all I have read about it so far), he questions why sympathy for Communism endured so long among Western intellectuals (not completely extinguished even now), and he is, notably, not one to disavow Stalin but embrace other Bolshevik leaders. As the Times reviewer reports, "He explains, patiently and correctly, that Lenin and Trotsky founded the Communist police state, and Stalin merely perfected it. Lenin and Trotsky, not Stalin, created the Soviet contempt for human life and the principles of truth."


A decade on from the liberation of Eastern Europe and nearly half a century after Stalin's death, the cause of truth is well served by so passionate an assault on the enormities of Soviet totaltiarianism and so pointed an indictment of the many among the Western Left who overlooked them.

The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street

On 27 July 1694, the Bank of England was formally awarded a Royal Charter to be, in the Bank's own words, the Government's banker and debt-manager. This came in exchange for a loan by the Bank's founder, William Patterson, and a group of his investors to King William III for the prosecution of the War of the League of Augsburg against Louis XIV. Since the 19C, the Bank has enjoyed a monopoly on the printing of notes in England, but, if Tony Blair has his way, this prerogative might soon be transferred to a different central bank, in Frankfurt.


This page on the Bank of England's official site offers a brief history of the institution, along with such peculiar anecdotes from its past as the "giant" disinterred on Bank property and the sewer worker who reportedly managed to climb his way up into the gold vaults.


In a similar vein, here is the homepage of the non-partisan No Campaign to keep Britain out of the euro. Sir Edward George, the Governor of the Bank of England, is reputedly sceptical of the European single currency.

Humble thanks to Mark Sullivan

Mark Sullivan, author of the fine Ad Orientem site, has honored me with a link on his page. Those who enjoy what they read here should definitely pay Mr Sullivan a visit as well.

Cohabitation increases divorce risk
Also according to the CDC study:
- Children of divorced parents are more likely to divorce themselves;
- Religious people are less likely to divorce.

Venice looks for a logo
In the tradition of "I love NY."

Princeton dean suspended after hacking Yale website
See The Yale Daily News for updates on the story.

Grief and Shame: Remembering the Irish famine
John Derbyshire visits New York's Irish Hunger Memorial and examines historical responsibility.

European Court rules France denied Vichy collaborator due process
Maurice Papon, 91, convicted in 1998 of signing deportation orders for 1,690 Jews, will get a new trial.

"Paris is worth a Mass"

King Henry IV of France was received into the Catholic Church on this day, 25 July, in 1593, thus effectively ending the devastating period of the French Wars of Religion. (The unflattering words he is said to have uttered on that occasion, however, are almost certainly apocryphal.) From that time even until today, this act has aroused controversy. Was Henry's conversion sincere, or was it rather motivated by more worldly political considerations? On this question, a conflicted Pope Clement VIII took counsel with his cardinals and, to avoid schism, decided indeed to absolve the king of excommunication, reasoning that the state of his soul was something only God could judge.


In modern times, The Catholic Encyclopedia has held strongly for Henry's sincerety. Certain secular texts, on the contrary, assume that the king placed peace above conviction, while others take no definitive stance on the matter. Catholic historian Warren Carroll makes a persuasive case for a charitable, moderate view:


"France had been saved, for the Church and for Christendom, by a very narrow margin. The extent of Henry's sincerity, as Cardinal Baronius so well said, could be known only to God. The historian is in no position to deny it without much clearer evidence than he in fact posseses. Though Henry never said the words so often attributed to him, 'Paris is worth a Mass,' the Church might well say that even a king of France personally indifferent to religious truth was a price worth paying to keep France Catholic. . . . he remained actively and visibly Catholic throughout the remaining fifteen years of his reign. . . . Henry did not decide to become Catholic quickly or easily -- not until four years after he first claimed the kingship following the assassination of Henry III. . . . Whatever his sincerity when he made his decision to convert, there was much in his earlier life to keep him from the Catholic Church. It is unlikely, barring very special graces, that he would have converted only by his own inclination. A substantial element in his motivation seems likely to have been sheer necessity, created by the deep-rooted strength of the Catholic tradition of most of the French people, the magnificent heroism of the Parisians during the siege of 1590, and the military genius and loyal service of Alessandro Farnese, Duke of Parma. Like the Spanish Armada, the decision of King Henry IV to preserve the old religion in France was primarily a battle decision, but this time in favor of Christendom and the Catholic cause" (The Cleaving of Christendom, pp. 449-450).

Murano glass


Rosa Barovier Mentasti, a member of a renowned Renaissance glassblowing family, has opened a new school on Murano to ensure the continuation of the Venetian island's famous artistic tradition. Some have objected that the academic setting is inferior to the ancient master-apprentice system, but as Burke said, "A state [or, in this case, an art form] without the means of some change is without the means of its conservation."


A Note to those traveling to Venice: The Murano glassblowing tours are tourist traps, really sales pitches in disguise.

Salisbury Cathedral: The best view in England

A panel of judges, considering it "quintessentially English," has identified the home of the medieval Sarum Use liturgy as the best sight in the country. This magnificent Constable painting rightly influenced the verdict.

Old soldiers remember Ypres

Three British veterans of the Great War, every one a centenarian, gathered yesterday to commemorate the 75th anniversary of the Menin Gate memorial at Ypres, Belgium. Ypres was the site of three major battles in that war, including the horrific Battle of Passchendaele in 1917.


One of the men, Jack Davis, 107, offered these Virgilian thoughts on the occasion: "What is in my mind as I come back here today is the awful sacrifice and the loss of all my comrades. It was 87 years ago and was it all worth it? It is a very sad occasion, a sad moment for me because I lost so many comrades."

Food for somber meditation.

Fairness

I have criticized the Archbishop-designate of Canterbury's many liberal beliefs and shall continue to do so. Justice and charity therefore oblige me to commend him when he speaks out for orthodoxy, as he does in encouraging devotion to the Blessed Mother.

“Who believes the promises they make in Paris?”

The villagers of Villers-Cotterêts are frustrated with their Parisian masters, who have unilaterally decided that the remains of the town's favorite son -- Alexander Dumas, père -- will be transferred to the Panthéon.

And with that, I leave off the tales from the crypt.

"Common decency and a sense of the importance of our heritage require that we treat these ancestors with respect"


The Rev Chris Bouton, an English vicar, is raising money to give recently exhumed thousand-year-old Anglo-Saxons Christian burial.

We used to call people like this Insane

According to "The Rev" Sun Myung Moon, a grand conference in Heaven -- including God Himself, the founders of the major world religions, and even Karl Marx -- has proclaimed him Messiah. (We anticipate an annoucement soon that he has signed a concordat with that funny little man in the asylum who keeps his hand in his shirt.)


Dave Shiflett worries that, in the eyes of the secular world, sane religious people may be tarred with the same brush.

O'Sullivan: Churches are losing their religion


John O'Sullivan hits a home run this week in his column on the decline in churchgoing in Europe and perhaps North America as well. His argument reminds me of the answer I often give people who ask me why, for example, the Jesuits lack vocations: one doesn't need to take vows to join Amnesty International. (Conversely, dioceses and orders known for orthodoxy and good liturgy have shortages not of vocations but of seminary places.)

The religious impulse is essential to man; he hungers for the transcendent, but that is exactly what the churches, by and large, are not emphasizing. Truly, in these dark times, the church that offers man a challenging message, that stands as a sign of contradiction in the world, will reap an abundant harvest of souls. Even in this most secular and materialistic of ages, nothing material can satisfy our deepest desires, for God, our Creator, is our sole and last end. It is as Saint Augustine prayed so beautifully in the Confessions, "You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you."


If, however, the churches fail to discern the signs of the times and return to preaching repentance for sin and working for the salvation of individual souls, people will forsake them and seek fulfillment and meaning elsewhere, like, for example, in a mosque.


The other excellent point toward which O'Sullivan vaguely gestures is that Christian societies cannot remain so for long once Christianity and Christian observance become merely part of the culture rather than the spirit that informs the culture.

Housekeeping


I am now nearly caught up from yesterday. After this post, which will presently turn to the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, please scroll down to read my promised entries on the Jacobites and the British Museum, as well as a new one on the Archbishop-designate of Canterbury. Also, bear in mind that I frequently go back to edit and refine earlier posts, which explains why some read differently on subsequent visits.


Now, I didn't have this page in time to mark the anniversary of the assassinations of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sofie, which led to the Great War. (As you may have noticed, that is rather an interest of mine.) Yesterday's anniversary of the Austrian ultimatum, issued in response to the assassinations, however, allows me publicly to offer this one thought on them that I had earlier, in a somewhat less polished form, sent as e-mail.


Two years ago, National Review Online ran an installment of its now defunct History column elucidating the events of 28 June 1914. Adopting the traditional interpretation uncritically,the author's assessment of the Black Hand's motive in targeting Archduke Franz Ferdinand is this:


"The Archduke was chosen as a target because Serbians feared that after his ascension to the throne, he would continue and even heighten the persecution of Serbs living within the Austro-Hungarian empire."


To quote Christopher Hitchens in another context, this is Wrong. Wrong Twice. Wrong as can be. It is a line that betrays an implicit Wilsonian bias the facts do not support. It imbues the Serbian assassins with an undue nobility as freedom fighters in a struggle for Slavic national self-determination against a reactionary Austro-Hungarian autocracy. But far from intending to turn down the screws on the Bosnia Slavs after his accession, the Archduke had given every indication that he planned to do just the opposite. For example, in the aftermath of the Second Balkan War in 1913 (less than a year before he died), while many Austrians clamored for decisive military action to check the Serbian threat, Franz Ferdinand (along with Emperor Franz Josef) disagreed, and consequently Austria refrained from pursuing that option.


The heir apparent was also known to favor imperial federation and greater liberty and self-government for his Slavic subjects. This did not endear him to Austrian hardliners. (Implementing a federal strategy, however, as some have suggested, had the potential in 1914, if not perhaps in 1918, to save the Empire. If the Hapsburgs had expanded the Dual Monarchy to, say, a Triple, Quadruple, or even Sextuple Monarchy -- characterized by home rule but loyalty to a common emperor and representation in an Imperial Parliament -- they might have defused the nationalistic tensions. Hungarian jealousy might have complicated the matter, but who can say with certainty how it would have turned out?)


Surely the Black Hand operatives knew of the Archduke's reformist inclinations, considering that their ringleader was the director of Serbian military intelligence. So why, then, choose Franz Ferdinand for assassination if not out of fear of his prospective tyranny? The answer is precisely because, if allowed to live, he would have likely enacted measures to lighten the burden on the Slavs. These would have diminished the ardor among those imperial subjects for revolutionary independence under Serbian leadership, thus dashing the principal Serbian geopolitical objective going back at least to 1878: to unify the South Slavs in a national state at the expense of the Austro-Hungarian empire.


(The basic facts underlying this interpretation are admirably laid out in The Western Heritage by my former professor Frank Turner, Donald Kagan, and Steve Osment. It is one of the best such general texts I have found.)


The graveyard of monarchies is tragically strewn with the corpses of reforming kings whom circumstances or their countrymen did not allow to reign long enough (if at all) or who had not the strength to master events. One thinks beyond the Archduke to his successor as heir, Karl I, and earlier, to Louis XVI of France.

Believer in Gays and Women as Clerics to Lead Anglicans


It is now officially confirmed that Archbishop Rowan Williams will succeed George Carey as Archbishop of Canterbury. I have criticized Dr Williams here in the past, and the left-wing positions attributed to him in articles in The New York Times and London Times reveal why. They include favoring the ordination of women and practicing homosexuals to the ministry (and presumably the episcopate as well); opposition to Western military action against Third World countries unless sanctioned by the UN (which now apparently has some sort of divine-right moral authority); favoring the disestablishment of the Church of England; favoring approval for remarriage after divorce; and opposition to ranking schools based on performance.


That Dr Williams denounces Disney's exploitation of children (within a general critique modern culture's assault on childhood innocence) and enjoys The Simpsons only proves the old saying that even a stopped clock is right twice a day.


Still, I suspect the Holy Spirit might be at work here after all. As a well-known radical who is not shy about his agenda, Dr Williams could provoke another internal Anglican schism, perhaps leading the remaining oppressed traditionalists to "pope," as the English say. There is, of course, precedent for this, and it is for this we must pray.


And speaking of English Catholicism, it is an utter scandal that Cormac Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor, the Archbishop of Westminster, should issue a statement such as this to mark Dr Williams's appointment. Sadly, however, I should have been more surprised had it been otherwise.

Turmoil at the British Museum

Yesterday's New York Times ran a long piece by Sarah Lyall, one of the paper's regular London correspondents, about how the British Museum, apparently due to financial mismanagement, is struggling with heavy debt and labor union unrest.


Another unfortunate item in the story is the news of museum director Robert Anderson's retirement. (It does not say whether or not he is personally implicated in the fiscal mistakes.) Last January, in the pages of The Times of London, Mr Anderson wrote a ringing explanation of why the Elgin Marbles would stay in Britain. Indeed, his piece reflects one of the finest attributes of the British character: its desire to learn from and preserve the varied cultures of the world, both ancient and modern. The Parthenon sculptures rescued by the Earl of Elgin from danger of deterioration (with the permission, it should be added, of the Ottoman authorities), have become an integral part of British culture and remain intact and on display for the edification of all. According to the New York Times article, his successor enjoys a good reputation from his time at the National Gallery. We hope he shares Mr Anderson's historical and cultural sense and can straighten out the great institution's money troubles.

The lad that's born to be King

257 years ago yesterday, 23 July 1745, Bonnie Prince Charlie (christened Charles Edward Stuart) -- the grandson of King James II and VII -- landed in Scotland to foment what would become the last great Jacobite rebellion. This romantic but ultimately failed uprising, which became known as the Forty-Five after the year in which it began, became the stuff of Scottish nationalistic legend. The beautiful "Skye Boat Song," for example, tells of the charismatic young prince’s escape from his English pursuers and nurtures the hope that some day a Stuart king will return to restore Scottish independence.


The Jacobite movement (named for the Latin name of King James I and VI: Iacobus) has at various times incorporated not only nationalistic Scottish Presbyterians, but also some English Tories, and Catholics, who were displeased by the Whig transformation of Britain after 1688. Although having ceased to be a political force, Jacobitism (not Jacobinism) as an idea has endured among a small group even to the present day, some members of which go as far as to proclaim the Wittelsbach Duke of Bavaria, and not Elizabeth II, the legitimate monarch of Britain.


It may not surprise you to learn that I do have some sympathies for their cause. One Jacobite website (which lists the contemporary Jacobite succession to 107 places!) identifies three types of modern Jacobites:

“There are those fervent individuals who believe strongly in the legitimate rights of Duke Francis of Bavaria and acknowledge him as their rightful king. Then there are those who are firmly attached to the principles of legitimism and yet, in practical terms, are loyal to
the House of Windsor. There are those people who take a purely historical interest in the movement, and others who are devoted to the memory of its most romantic hero, Bonnie Prince Charlie.”

I fall somewhere between groups two and three. In the 17th & 18th centuries I surely should have been more fervent, as, along with the Jacobites, I believe James II to have been unlawfully deposed and his progeny, therefore, to be the legitimate heirs to the
thrones of England and Scotland. In terms of political philosophy, I also join the Jacobites in rejecting the innovations of 1688 -- specifically the notion that the king (who is no longer truly Sovereign) rules at the pleasure of Parliament, which has the right to choose
and dethrone him -- and of 1701, which unjustly barred Catholics from the succession.

I break from the most devoted Jacobites, however, for reasons approximating those given in the 1913 Catholic Encyclopedia’s entry on the Civil Authority: “When the change [in government] is complete, the new government rules by right of accomplished fact. There must be authority in the country, and theirs is the only authority available.”

Now, my legitimist convictions are stronger than these, and I find the last line I quoted quite problematic, in that it would seem not only to preclude restorations but also to accord too much moral credibility and security to (frequently violent) revolutionary regimes. The general Thomistic principles, however, that society requires a civil authority and that enduring tyranny peacefully is often to be preferred to the chaos of rebellion are sound. I might not be so hasty as to bestow legitimacy upon a new regime as soon as “the change is complete,” but
after centuries of moderate rule in which they have earned the allegiance and devotion of their people, I am happy to concede it to the Hanovers/Saxe-Coburg-Gothas/Windsors. (Although, given the demonstrated character -- not to mention the political and religious inclinations -- of Her Majesty’s descendants, perhaps a Stuart restoration is in order after all.)

Long Live the Queen!

Mea Culpa


Well, today (or, rather, yesterday) simply got away from me. I have only just now returned from a wonderful, but extended, Yale Club dinner, followed by a nightcap at Muldoon's on 3rd Ave., one of the best Irish pubs in the City. At any rate, I promise blogs on the Jacobites, the British Museum, and Archduke Franz Ferdinand (all in one day!) first thing in the morning, or whenever I awaken. Apologies to Mr De Feo, and everyone else besides, for not providing my promised dose of Forty Five nostalgia this evening, but Charlie will come tomorrow, as it were. Buona notte.

In the meantime, see this New York Times front-page article from 23 July 1914, the day Austria issued her famous ultimatum to Serbia. And, if you haven't read it, take a look at The Widening Gyre's fine post on the anniversary of the Assassinations last month.

Few blogs today

A full day of meetings will make blogs scarce until later tonight, but do drop by then for one on the Jacobites. (Today is a significant anniversary for those types, with whom I sympathize . . . but more on that to come.)

The Program, in detail


A quick Google search turned up the full program for "Flemish Spring." As one would expect, it looks delightful, and while one might perhaps have hoped for some Ockeghem, Peter Phillips's decision to concentrate on the 16C is understandable.


Also on this website is the program for "English Winter" to which I referred in my first post on The Tallis Scholars. I dearly hope this will have a performance in New York, as it is especially impressive. Not only does it include Byrd's Mass for Four Voices -- which The Tallis Scholars have never sung in America -- but also Cornysh's wonderful little carol "A Robyn, Gentil Robyn." (They have recorded this piece on their Cornysh album. The Harvard Glee Club also has a fine rendition of it on its excellent "Tour of East Asia" disc.)

We await the details of the December U.S. tour with great interest.

Mark your calendars


According to a letter I received this afternoon from Columbia University's Miller Theatre, The Tallis Scholars will give a concert titled "Flemish Spring" on Saturday 5 April 2003 at 8.00pm at Riverside Church in Manhattan. The program will comprise music of Josquin, Crecquillon, and Lassus, among others.

For their sound, the Riverside acoustic is inferior to that of St Ignatius, Park Avenue, another New York church at which they commonly perform, but this is a quibble considering the happiness of the news.

Hollywood's Politically Correct Hannibal

Yesterday the Sunday Telegraph reported that two Hollywood studios are competing with each other to release a film version of the life of Hannibal, the Carthaginian general of the Second Punic War. Normally, I should welcome the news that ancient Roman history is of interest to the leading lights of American popular culture, but in this case their motivation (beyond making money, of course) is maddening, if not surprising. According to the Telegraph article,


"It [the competition to make a Hannibal movie] also reflects the desire of the Hollywood studios to find epic roles for black actors who, in playing the North African general, can be depicted conquering whites."


Now there are both philosophical and factual problems with this. Let's take the factual first: quite simply, Hannibal was not black. As respected classicist Mary Lefkowitz writes in her book Not Out Of Africa, "Hannibal was an aristocratic Carthaginian, whose ancestors came from Phoenicia (or Canaan), as the baal in his name suggests, and the Phoenicians were a Semitic people" (p.31). Later she continues, "The native population of the North [of Africa] were the ancestors of the modern Berbers; they are shown in Egyptian art with light hair and facial coloring. Their land was colonized by Phoenicians, Greeks, and finally by Romans. For that reason it is unlikely that most natives of what was called 'Africa' in antiquity, that is North Africa, were 'black' in the modern sense of the word." (pp.31-2). Finally, she returns to this point in her conclusion with the verdict that "There is no evidence that Socrates, Hannibal, and Cleopatra had African ancestors" (p.157).


Now, the philosophical: movies like this disseminate and popularize the dangerous falsehood (discussed by Lefkowitz in her book) that the purpose of history is not to search for truth and a deeper understanding of human nature but rather to nurture the self-esteem of various disadvantaged groups. By this principle, however, I fail to see how Hannibal can make an appropriate subject. After all (unless this too will be changed to suit ideological preferences), although he had a brilliant run for a while, Hannibal ultimately failed to conquer Rome and lost the war. But incoherent thinking by the p.c. Left (and especially its Hollywood branch) has long since ceased to shock.


I am rather disappointed, though, that the Telegraph writer did not treat all this with a little more skepticism.

Red China, the Wilhelmine Germany of the early 21st century
Potentially, anyway; according to John Derbyshire in his column today on the present situation in that country.

L'Amour de Loin


Finnish composer Kaija Saariaho has written an opera of courtly love. The libretto, based on the vide breve of Jaufre Rudel de Blaye, tells of a 12C prince and troubadour who is said to have fallen in love with the Countess of Tripoli from afar and later to have died in her arms. L'Amour de Loin, as the opera is called, will have its American premiere this week at the Santa Fe Opera with Dawn Upshaw in the role of the Countess.


This article notes Saariaho's reputation for avant garde music, citing her association with Darmstadt (made known by the likes of Boulez and Stockhausen) and her work with electronics, but it reports that L'Amour de Loin is consonant, if not tonal. As to the future of the opera after Santa Fe, a Lincoln Center performance is alluded to, but without specifics.

The Battle of Stalingrad, the puppet show
An unusual approach.

Rights of Englishmen Update


When I mentioned Labour's politically correct attack on the foundations of the great English legal system last week, it seems that I understated the situation. In several essential ways, Blair's regime plans to demolish that system, which is as quintessentially English as Shakespeare.


According to the Government's White Paper, new legislation will retroactively abolish the prohibition against Double Jeopardy, restrict the right to Trial by Jury, admit hearsay evidence, and allow the prosecution to introduce prior convictions as evidence against defendants. (Even if the new Double Jeopardy allowance pertain only to murder, it would still establish that the prohibition against DJ is violable. Blair has, in fact, already spoken of permitting new trials for unspecified "serious offenses.") Because the retroactive Double Jeopardy innovation reflects a desire on the part of the state to retry a specific case, it constitutes an even more disturbing affront to the rule of law.


This is quite scary, as the medieval principles Labour will undermine are among the most fundamental guarantors of liberty and moderate government in Britain. On this point, see this excellent Daily Telegraph editorial and this Peter Hitchens column.


At least, for the moment anyway, those canons of fairness and justice will continue to protect us in America.

What if Perejil were claimed for Patagonia?


Thanks to a American diplomatic initiative, the armed stand-off between Spain and Morocco over the small island of Perejil has been resolved.


In retrospect, despite how seriously both sides took it, this affair reminds one of the case a few years ago in which a quixotic French writer stormed an island in the English Channel that was similarly barren and uninhabited, claiming it for the non-existent South American Kingdom of Patagonia. Two days later, an English vactioner, follwed by a handful of Jersey police, noticed the curiosity, sailed over to the conquered island, and replaced the Patagonian flag with the Union Jack, thereby restoring the territory to the British Crown without bloodshed. London found the whole thing rather amusing.