Paul Bourget

 "One must live as one thinks, under pain of sooner or later ending up thinking as one has lived."

- Paul Bourget, Le Demon du Midi

Paul Borget (1852-1935) was a French novelist, whose most famous work was Le Disciple (1889), a novel about an agnostic professor and the terrible influence his materialism has upon his students. Bourget himself abandoned his Catholic faith as a young man, and drifted into aimless agnosticism until he slowly returned to the Church some twenty years later. In 1893, in an interview he gave in America, he spoke about his changed views: 

"For many years I, like most young men in modern cities, was content to drift along in agnosticism, but I was brought to my senses at last by the growing realization that...the life of a man who simply said 'I don't know, and not knowing I do the thing that pleases me,' was not only empty in itself and full of disappointment and suffering, but was a positive influence for evil upon the lives of others." On the other hand, "those men and women who follow the teachings of the church are in a great measure protected from the moral disasters which...almost invariably follow when men and women allow themselves to be guided and swayed by their senses, passions and weaknesses."

Bourget went on to become a widely regarded scholar, and his novels were popular among the general public. Nonetheless, his works have largely been abandoned; but if you are interested in character novels that deal with a wide range of issues from a Catholic perspective, then I heartily recommend his novels, some of which can be found here.

On Ideology

I am often asked to describe my ideology. I always reply that I do not have an ideology. That does not mean that I am a nihilist, nor does that mean that I am ignorant of the political philosophies that currently move about in this age. Rather, ideology – often encapsulated in revolutionary action – has wrought upon man more ill than good. Indeed, if ideology brings out the worst in man, I must argue that I am anti-ideological – that is, I favor the simple notions of freedom, decency, and order. Accordingly, I would say that I am simply in favor of the best of Western Civilization.

According to Russell Kirk, there are three great bodies of principle and conviction that tie together what is called modern civilization. First, there is the Christian faith –  the synthesis of the great cities of Jerusalem, Athens, and Rome. Christianity is the light of Western Civilization (and the world) as well as its Crown. Second, according to Kirk, is humanism, "which with the Christian faith, teaches us our powers and our limitations--the work of Plato, Virgil, Cicero, Dante, Shakespeare, and so many others." Third, the Law -- the authority of man to govern and to administer justice.

These three principles are the foundations of Western Civilization – particularly of the American republic. And these principles do I defend.

Hoc Est Corpus Meum

Hoc est. This is. Not "like," or
"as," or "for,"
And not a symbol or similitude,
And not a figure or a metaphor,
Not "near," or "close," or some
incertitude.

- William Baer, on Matthew 26:26

Augustus B. Woodward's Paris of the West

"A man of middle age, a hardened bachelor who wore nut-brown clothing . . . he slept in his office which was never swept . . . and was eccentric and erratic. His friends were few and his practice was so small that he hardly made a living." However, when criticized, "he always assumed a lofty and dispassionate attitude, and his written and spoken defenses were always ingenious, plausible and pointed." (Ross, Robert B. The Early Bench and Bar of Detroit: From 1805 - 1850)

And so was described Augustus B. Woodward (1774-1827), first Chief Justice of the Michigan Territories, disciple of Thomas Jefferson, and father of the City of Detroit, Michigan. President Jefferson appointed Woodward as Judge of Michigan on March 3, 1805; and when he arrived in Detroit to begin his duties, he found the city in ruins as a result of a massive fire that destroyed most of the city. That being so, he set about planning the city -- with Charles L'Enfant's grand design for Washington, DC as the model. 

Shifting the focus from the Detroit River to its avenues, Woodward proposed a system of hexagonal street blocks, with the Grand Circus Park at its center. Wide avenues, alternatively 200 feet and 120 feet, would proceed from large circular plazas like wheel spokes. The result was a Baroque city of magnificent architecture and elegant charm; and visitors were quick to dub Detroit as the "Paris of the West."

Until the middle of the twentieth century, Detroit was known as America's finest city (this title has since been awarded to San Diego, California), with prosperous businesses, higher-than-average standard of living, and beautiful architecture. Of course the '60s rolled around, with its urban renewal and social justice crusades, and the result has been nothing less than tragic. Perhaps the city of Detroit could use a modern-day Augustus Woodward to set a new vision for this struggling city with a glorious past.

 

Once a truly great American city...

...now, John Conyer's and the AFL-CIO's utopia.

After Apple Picking by Robert Frost

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree

Toward heaven still.
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples; I am drowsing off.
I cannot shake the shimmer from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the water-trough,
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and reappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
And I keep hearing from the cellar-bin
That rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking; I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall,
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised, or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.

My Dream Dog

I've always wanted to have a Collie, and I plan to get one eventually.

You may mention to me, however, that I already have dog; and you may ask me, "Don't you like the dog you already have?"

Indeed, I like Louie -- but look at him: you can't compare this loaf with the regal canine pictured above, right?

Gold Leaves by G.K. Chesterton

Lo! I am come to autumn,
When all the leaves are gold;
Grey hairs and golden leaves cry out
The year and I are old.

In youth I sought the prince of men,
Captain in cosmic wars,
Our Titan, even the weeds would show
Defiant, to the stars.

But now a great thing in the street
Seems any human nod,
Where shift in strange democracy
The million masks of God.

In youth I sought the golden flower
Hidden in wood or wold,
But I am come to autumn,
When all the leaves are gold.

Notice: Will Return Soon

Days turn into nights; history becomes legend; legend becomes myth; and before you know it, you haven't "blogged" in quite some time. Well, I shall return as soon as time allows. In the meantime, please enjoy the music selection from one of my favorite films.