Your RDA of Irony

Real Estate Seminars, circa 1803

Posted in General, On This Day on October 20th, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – Be the first to comment

October 20, 1803:  The U.S. Senate Knows A Bargain

In 1803 Napoleon realized that even he needed more than charisma to wage war. Money was required. To raise it, Napoleon offered to sell the Louisiana Territory to the United States.

American diplomats in Paris might have seen this embarrassing spectacle….

Napoleon: Everyone loves New Orleans. Imagine owning it for just ten million dollars!

Talleyrand: Just ten million! I knew that you were a megalomaniac but I didn’t think that you were crazy. What a bargain!

Napoleon: I’ll show you how crazy I am. What if I include the entire Louisiana Territory for an additional five million dollars? That’s right: 800,000 square miles for only $15,000,000!

Talleyrand: Just $15,000,000? I would have charged that much in bribes! What a bargain!

Napoleon: The entire Louisiana Territory for only $15,000,000. But only if you order now!

France could afford to be so generous. Of those 800,000 square miles, France actually controlled only ten percent of the territory: the area comprising modern Louisiana and Arkansas. The rest of that realm was based on tenuous claims: boundaries based on where a French trapper thought that he left an Indian wife.  (Eight or nine wives were about the average for a trader.)

In fact, Spain and Britain had claims to part of that territory and could have disputed the Purchase. However, Spain preferred not to offend Napoleon. For its part, England preferred to fight Napoleon in Europe rather than Thomas Jefferson in Minnesota. Of course, the native Americans also had claim to the territory; but no one was listening to them. So, in a transaction based on French pretension and American wishful thinking, the geographic dimensions of the United States doubled overnight.

The Purchase was made on April 30, 1803. As his many creditors could verify, Thomas Jefferson was an impulse buyer. The Senate actually had to approve the Purchase, and it finally did so on this day in 1803.

But it is unlikely that Napoleon waited to cash the check.

B.C. Comics?

Posted in General on October 19th, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – 8 Comments

October 19, 202 B.C.:  The Battle of Zama

On this day in 202 B.C., Hannibal had the character-building experience of losing a battle…and a war. If only Hannibal had read “War and Peace” (and since the Second Punic War lasted sixteen years, he might have had the time), the Carthaginian general would have known that his military genius was only as good as his men. Unfortunately, at Zama, his men really stunk.

Carthage had an all-volunteer army: in other words, mercenaries. Prior to Halliburton stock options, mercenaries usually were compensated by loot. It is a wonderful incentive when you are on the attack, rampaging through Italy. However, when you are on the defensive, protecting Carthage, looting the employer is discouraged. In those circumstances, Hannibal was not getting the best resumes.

Worse yet, the Romans had outbid him for all the available cavalry. After all, working for Rome, the North African horsemen now would be entitled to loot Carthage. Hannibal hoped to compensate by using elephants, whose charging tonnage presumably would flatten the legions. Since the fearsome beasts were not really maneuverable, the tactic only worked if the Romans remained patiently still. For some reason, they wouldn’t. When confronted with a charging elephant, the Romans simply stepped aside and let the pachyderm pass.

(Despite the elephant’s tactical futility, the Italians evidently were impressed by such overblown, lumbering theatrics and would eventually invent opera.)

Hannibal lost the battle, and Carthage was at the mercy of Rome. Mercy was not a Roman trait. The Carthaginian empire was reduced to the city limits. Hannibal, however, did retain his reputation. Even twenty centuries later, the young Sigmund Freud regarded Hannibal as a hero. Battered by the blond schoolyard bullies, Sigmund loved the idea of a tough Semitic guy who could scare the id out of the foreskinned crowd.

The same solace may have occurred to Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.

HugueNOT

Posted in General on October 18th, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – Be the first to comment

October 18, 1685:  The Evict of Nantes

On this day in 1685, Louis XIV revoked the Edict of Nantes which had guaranteed the freedom of worship to Protestants. Perhaps as revenge, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir has never sung “Louie, Louie.”

The Edict had been granted in 1598 by Henri IV of France, a man of steadfast principles. All his mistresses had to be married. (Of course, obligingly myopic husbands received titles and estates.) However, Henri was not so dogmatic about religion. He was born a Catholic; but when his mother became a Protestant, so did young Henri. By both rank (a member of the royal family) and actual ability, he became the leader of France’s Protestants. His marriage to Princess Margaret Valois (of the Catholic branch of the Royal Family) was supposed to establish ecumenical peace in a France rift by religious war.

Unfortunately, the Catholic side of the family celebrated the wedding by massacring the Protestant guests. (Perhaps when you are paying for the wedding, you have that prerogative.) On St. Bartholomew’s Day, as a wedding present Henri was offered the choice of death or Catholicism. Henri had found breathing to be habit-forming and wasn’t quite prepared to learn the details of the Afterlife. So he was Catholic again. Of course, as soon as he was able to flee Paris, Henri was a Protestant again and leading the surviving Huguenots in civil war.

The Protestant rebel was in the line to the French throne. The royal succession required descent through the male line, and Henri had consistent Y chromosomes dating back to Louis IX. Furthermore, none of his royal brothers-in-law was producing legitimate sons. (One had a daughter, another had the debilitating consequences of syphilis and the third liked to wear dresses.) By 1589, they were dead (possibly poison, probably 16th century medicine, and definitely assassination). Our Henri was the legitimate heir, but the Catholics of France were not prepared to accept a Protestant king.

So, once again Henri converted, rationalizing his latest contortion “Paris is worth a Mass.” No one questioned Henri’s sincerity; there was no sincerity to question. The Protestants could count on Henri’s religious tolerance but not necessarily his longevity. The Huguenots wanted a guarantee of religious freedom, and Henri obliged his former co-religionists with the Edict of Nantes.

Unfortunately, if a King can grant an edict, another can revoke it. Louis XIV certainly did not inherit religious tolerance from his grandfather. He ordered the destruction of Protestant churches and schools. The only guaranteed freedom left the Protestants was emigration. Louis did not even follow the English etiquette of bigotry: when persecuting a minority, at least offer them a colony in the New World.

Many of the Huguenots did flee France. Some found haven in the English colonies of the New World; Paul Revere was a descendant. Others made a shorter trip to the Protestant states of Germany. That would explain this irony: in subsequent invasions of France(especially the most recent) a number of German generals had French names.

L’Affaire and Balanced

Posted in General, On This Day on October 15th, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – Be the first to comment

October 15, 1894: France Needs a Scapegoat

On this day in 1894, Captain Alfred Dreyfus was arrested for espionage, accused of giving France’s military secrets to Germany. The charge itself seems incredible. What would the vastly superior German army learn from spying on the French.  Souffle recipes?  The Germans would have ruined them anyway by adding sausage and potatoes.

Dreyfus also happened to be innocent. However, the Army had reached its verdict before the courtmartial, and any inconvenient contradictions–such as the evidence–were considered an insult to the image of the army.  Dreyfus had to be guilty, and the facts were irrelevant.   The Conservatives of the time were indignant that anyone would weight the innocence of one man (and a circumcized bourgeois at that) against the honor of the Army.   

Here is the updated version of the reactionaries’ reactions:

Michael Medved: The skewed liberal perspective is missing the real story. This situation really is a compliment to the French Army. A Jew can be an officer! I am thrilled to know that. What a tribute to this country! Every Jewish boy in France can grow up to be a Captain Dreyfus!

Bill O’Reilly: What is Dreyfus’ problem? If he didn’t want to be a scapegoat, why is he Jewish? It is what these people are good at, that and violins. Talk about an easy job, for doing nothing, he is going to spend a few years at a tropical resort. You and I should be so lucky, but we have to work for a living.

Ann Coulter: Of course, Dreyfus is guilty. The army ordered him to be guilty and he refused. That is the definition of treason.

Glen Beck:  You can see the pattern.  Alfred, Alsace, alien, Allemagne, allied to the Ottoman Empire which worships Allah.  And what kind of name is Ottoman?  Otto is definitely German.  So Germany and the Ottoman Empire are actually the same country, and Alfred Dreyfus is really a Moslem.

Hastings Makes Wastings

Posted in General, On This Day on October 14th, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – 6 Comments

October 14, 1066:  William of Normandy Saves the English Language From Sounding Too German

This day is the anniversary of the Battle of Hastings.  You can commemorate this day by singing this musical tribute to the loser of the battle, the late King Harold Godwinson. (I have borrowed the melody of “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” so expect the great-grandchildren of Jerome Kern to sue me.)

Harold’s Song

‘Gainst Bill of Normandy,
Anglo-Saxony’s
Bravest earls and thralls
Stood against the Gauls’
Claims to monarchy

When Angle-Saxons strive
They’re allowed to try
Axe or sword for duels,
But they’ll break the rules
Arrowing an eye.

On our side
By this rule we’d abide.
Eye gouging is just done.
But Norse code
Allows that ghastly mode:
Shooting a hole in one.

Now Norman lords deride
Angle-Saxon pride.
What’s more I won’t see
Bayeux’s tapestry
Arrowed in the eye.

And now the pedantics….

On this day in 1066, William the Bastard won the battle of Hastings and improved his nickname. Ironically, the Conqueror could have done just as well in a probate court. William had a better claim to the English throne than the English king did. (Yes, possession is nine tenths of the law; but William’s one tenth included a better army.) The legal wrangling and the bloodshed all stemmed from the inability to the late Edward the Confessor to make up his mind. Who would succeed the childless monarch? Edward apparently promised everyone the throne.

He had promised both his cousin William and his brother-in-law Harold Godwinson. His half-greatnephew Edgar also thought he was in line to the throne. King Edward’s Christmas cards probably read, “You May Already Be a Winner.” Fortunately, few people could read at the time; otherwise there might have been some 200 claimants to the English throne. (That didn’t happen until the 15th century and the Wars of the Roses.)

When Edward died on January 5, 1066, the council of English nobles chose Harold to be the next king. Harold was the most powerful noble in England and he was a distinguished soldier; in fact, Harold had been the de facto ruler during the reign of his ineffectual brother-in-law–whose only real skill apparently was praying. Since he was already doing the work, Harold would seem entitled to the formalities and its perks; besides, why shouldn’t the English have an English king? That would be fair and democratic, and completely anachronistic and wrong.

The council of nobles did not have the right to choose a king. Besides, where did you get the idea that Harold Godwinson was English? Does the name Harold tell you anything? Do real Angle-Saxon names end with “son”? Remember, the Vikings did get around. Eastern England was inundated by the Norse invaders; York was originally pronounced Jorvik. In the 11th century, England already had three Danish kings: Knut, Harold I and Hardicanute. So Mr. Godwinson would have been the fourth.

Being Norwegian and French, William of Normandy felt that he had as much right to the English throne as a Dane. Furthermore, William actually was related to Edward the Confessor. A cousin outranks a brother-in-law, especially when the marriage probably was never consummated. (Edward did have something to confess.) Finally, William could claim to be the overlord of Harold Godwinson. When Godwinson had visited Normandy in 1064, he had received a complimentary knighthood from William. That turned out to be more than a friendly gesture; from a legal perspective, Harold had made himself William’s vassel. Of course, any graduate of Constantinople University (which was the nearest law school in the 11th century) would have found the loophole: Harold only would be a vassal in Normandy, so just stay out of France.

Unfortunately, Harold did not think of hiring a smart Greek lawyer. In fact, he was unrepresented when William went to court. The Norman duke sent a delegation to the Pope, hoping to finagle Rome’s endorsement. Pope Alexander II was very flattered. Few rulers ever showed the Pope any respect–certainly not those imperial thugs in Germany. Alexander was usually preoccupied trying to enforce celibacy on the clergy. But here was a chance to determine the fate of a kingdom. The Pope considered the weight of the Norman’s claims (and bribes); not hearing any English arguments, Alexander decided in William’s favor. So William invaded England, with the blessing and authorization of the Pope.

Having cavalry and God on his side proved decisive for William. While the cavalry was more useful at Hastings, the Pope’s endorsement stifled further opposition from the English.  Obedient to Rome, the clergy of London delivered the city to William.  Besides, the English were getting used to the idea that their kings would be foreigners.

And they now have had 1000 years of practice.

Monday Miscellany

Posted in General, On This Day on October 12th, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – 2 Comments

October 12, 1492:  The Great Cultural Exchange

Christopher Columbus offered this introduction to the New World: “Hi, we’re here to trade small pox for syphilis.”

October 12, 1216:  The Further Misadventures of King John

On this day in 1216, King John lost the crown jewels in a flood. John was fleeing from his nobles; they seemed a bit upset after he reneged on the Magna Carta. The barons had decided to oust the little weasel and invited the French crown prince Louis (what else) to be king of England.

In his flight from the realm of England’s Louis I, John took a route along the eastern coast. Unfortunately, he had not quite mastered the concept of incoming tides. In an estuary known as the Wash, John’s baggage train was washed away.

John had an obvious talent for losing. Understandably the least favorite child of Eleanor of Aquitaine, John also had lost Normandy to the French, and his power to the barons. He would have lost the throne, too but for his rare instance of decisive initiative. He dropped dead. The death was suitably ridiculous: a surfeit of peaches and ale. Yet, it effectively ended the rebellion.

(The barons realized that John’s heir, his nine year-old son Henry, would make a much more malleable king than an adult French prince. In return for the barons’ allegiance, the regency of Henry III un-reneged the Magna Carta.)

Yet, for all of John’s losing, he could keep a woman. John and Isabelle d’Angouleme had an unique courtship. Upon seeing the beautiful twelve-year-old, John was so obsessed that he kidnapped her and coerced her into marriage.

For some reason, John never quite trusted her. He suspected that she was having an affair with a young noble, so the King arranged a surprise for his queen. She found the murdered noble hanging in her bedchamber.

Queen Elizabeth is a descendant of this happy union.

Tours de Farce

Posted in General, On This Day on October 10th, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – 1 Comment

October 10, 732:  Western Europe Is Stuck With Roman Numerals for Another 500 Years

The battle of Tours, fought this day in 732, is listed among the most important battles in history. It certainly is the only time that the French were underestimated. Having brushed aside the lumbering Visigoth clods in Spain, the Arabs assumed that the Franks would be just another trifle. And in theory, they were right. In the 8th century, Gallia was once again in three parts: two independent dukedoms and a weak kingdom fighting with each other. In planning their invasion of France, the Arabs discounted the possiblity of any real and organized resistance.

The Duchy of Aquitaine did not contradict the Arabs’ contempt. Southwestern France was quickly conquered. The most significant Arab losses were from hernias carrying the loot. Indeed, the sheer amount of plunder slowed down the Arabs’ invasion of central France. Their light cavalry had become quite heavy. That delay gave the desperate French two advantages. The first was weather. October in France would not seem a problem to most invaders; the Russians would be in bathing suits. But the Arabs were miserably cold; and their French loot evidently did not include long underwear. Thirty thousand sneezing Arabs are a less formidable foe, but the French still had to fight them.

The slow pace of the Arab invasion allowed the French time to gather an army, but this force was not the typical medieval ensemble of jealous nobles and undisciplined peasants. No, this was a real army with a capable leader. In fact, the French commander was not even a noble, at least a legitimate one. Being a bastard Charles Martel had worked his way up, surviving battles and court politics. He had the earned the rank of Mayor of the Palace. which was more important than it sounds. He was the military commander of the Franks and wielded far more power than the actual king, the incredibly trivial Theuderich IV.

To protect France–and himself–Charles had established a professional, full-time army. (Charles had financed this army by expropriating Church property. None too thrilled, the Church threatened to excommunicate him but decided that he was a lesser evil than an Arab invasion.)

The Arab army was sluggishly advancing on the city of Tours and was surprised to find Charles’ army, along with the reinforcements from the rest of France, standing in the way. As a further inconvenience to the Arabs, Charles used tactics, positioning his army on a wooded ridge. Arab cavalry, riding uphill through trees, was at a definite disadvantage. In fact, the disadvantage was so obvious that the Arab commander spent six days trying to come to a decision: should he attack or withdraw? It was not a pleasant choice. If he withdrew, the Caliph would probably kill him. If he attacked, the French would probably kill him. Of course, if he attacked and–with Allah working overtime–won….So, he did attack; unfortunately, a sizeable portion of his army did not. These Arabs were too intent on guarding their plunder from the possibility of French pillagers (pickpocketing mimes, etc.) that they abstained from the battle. They were willing to live with the shame…and the loot. And they did live with both. The commander was not so lucky, and much of the Arab army died with him.

Because the Arab strategists (Paleo-Cons?) back in Spain had never considered the possibility of defeat, the Arab invasion had not even organized a clear chain of command. There was no one to succeed the dead commander. With the officers feuding and the army battered, the Arab force averted complete disintegration only by retreating back to Spain. The Arab threat to Western Europe was over, at least until O.P.E.C.

France was saved–but so were the Dark Ages.

The Curses of Good Manners and Hygiene

Posted in General, On This Day on October 9th, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – 3 Comments

Obama Wins Nobel Peace Prize

The Nobel Committee awarded him the Prize simply for not being George Bush. Nonetheless, I think that the award was premature. Perhaps he should have been given half the Peace Prize now; he could get the other half once he actually accomplishes something.

To be honest, I think that I deserved this year’s Peace Prize.  Consider the heroic self-control I demonstrated.

It has been 40 years since I survived my high school–the Yiddish production of “Lord of the Flies.”  I received repeated telephone calls from the chronic organizer of  my class reunions.  (He was a complete mediocrity in high school, but apparently he is nostalgic for a past that he never had.)  As you may have discerned, I don’t share his sentimentality or morbidity.  Do I really want to count toupees or see which cheerleaders now weight more than me?    So I didn’t return the first two calls. After his third attempt, however, I felt guilty enough to call back if only to tell him that I was not interested in attending.   The news must have shocked him; he must have overestimated his charisma, too.  In his disbelief, he kept saying, “Well, that’s your right…”  (Yes, and that right was guaranteed by the Magna Carta–clause 43.  Of course, in 1215 the British barons only wanted to avoid Oxford University class reunions.) I politely said nothing, but I was seething.  “Blessed are the peacemakers”–obviously not my Testament.

Recently I ran into another high school classmate and he asked me if I was going to the reunion.  I replied, “Only if I have Ebola.” 

And now we resume our usual pedantics…
October 9, 1003:  Leif Erikson Lands in North America and Earns a Holiday in Minnesota

The Vikings are notorious for this vices, but they apparently possessed one fatal virtue: hygiene. Whether it was their fondness for saunas or the antiseptic cold of Greenland, the Vikings’ cleanliness ruined their chance to colonize North America. Starting with Leif Ericson in 1003, the Norse attempted to settle “Vinland.” Of course, the original inhabitants objected but the Vikings were never shy about other people’s property. Beyond their extrovert personalities, the Norse also had the tactical advantages of iron and steel armaments. The native American arsenal was still in the stone age. Nonetheless, the sheer number of the natives (Skraeling was the Viking name for them) made the prospect of slaughtering them rather demoralizing. And the Vikings’ damn hygiene eliminated the most effective weapon for depopulation: disease.

The Norse had nothing to infect their opponents, not a single small pox to share. Even their livestock was healthy. The “Skraelings” would have had no resistance to European germs; measles would have been a fatal plague. The Vikings then could have had Vinland to themselves. Just imagine how history would have changed: North America could have been one vast Minnesota. But the Vikings were too clean to succeed.

The Skraelings had a 500-year reprieve before they were introduced to the Spanish, French, English and small pox.

A Promising Young Man

Posted in General, On This Day on September 30th, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – Be the first to comment

September 30, 1399:  Henry of Bolingbroke Gets a Job

Henry of Bolingbroke (1367-1413) had been frustrated.  First, he had the worst title in the royal family.  The other Plantagenets had more distinguished identifications like Lancaster, York or Cambridge.  Bolingbroke sounded like a skin condition.  Worse, Henry had nothing to occupy him.  Keeping his rich wife in a continual state of pregnancy was at most fifteen minutes’ activity a year.  War was the family business but France and England were at peace.  Apparently the French had won the Fifty-Two Year War, and King Richard II did not want to round it off to the nearest hundred.  Henry was not even free to indulge in vices.  If he had tried womanizing, people would have said that he was competing with his father (John of Gaunt, the Plantagenet stud muffin).  Bolingbroke did not possess the blithering smugness to be an upper class twit; besides, the King was setting was standard for that.

So in 1390 Henry decided to travel.  (His wife Mary stayed home, gestating her fourth duke.)  Bolingbroke might have gone to Italy where the artists were experimenting with a remarkable innovation called perspective.  (Actually the Romans used it but there had a 900-year-long memory lapse.)  But he preferred to go to Lithuania where he joined in the local crusade.  The Lithuanians were the last remaining pagans in Europe, so any pious Catholic was free to slaughter them.  With a Papal blessing, German knights had conquered  and forcibly converted the territories we’d recognize (vaguely) as Estonia and Latvia; but the Lithuanians successfully resisted two centuries of crusades.  Henry’s assistance to the Teutonic Knights did not turn the tide of battle but he survived unscathed, and he probably was relieved that any word in German sounds worse than Bolingbroke.  The following year he returned to England and another impregnation.  One daughter later he was off to Cyprus and Jerusalem, returning in 1493 and the ensuing pregnancy finally killed his poor wife.  The widower felt obliged to stay on the same island as his six children. 

He now took up the family’s other business: politics.  Richard II had proved an appalling king; he had the rare distinction of being both unethical and incompetent.  Anyone could have done a better job and every one of the Plantagenets was trying.  No one was actually planning to overthrow Richard, just relegate him to a powerless figurehead.  The two chief contenders to be the royal ventriloquist were the king’s uncles:  Thomas of Woodstock and John of Gaunt.  However, Richard did not appreciate their concern.  In 1397, he had Uncle Thomas imprisoned, where he promptly died.    Uncle John avoided the king’s tantrums, but cousin Henry was not so adroit.  For  questioning the case of his uncle’s death, Bolingbroke was exiled from England for ten years.         

John of Gaunt died–without help–in February, 1399.  Henry of Bolingbroke should have inherited his father’s titles and estates; the terms of his exile had not barred him from the succession.  However, contrary to the laws and basic decency, Richard confiscated the entire estate.  As King, he might commit a crime; but Richard was not strong enough to get away with it.  He commanded little loyalty.  The progressive nobles despised his blundering misrule. The conservative lords loathed his personal conduct; Richard was a bit too poetic and he practiced hygiene before it was fashionable.  (The next generation of Plantagenets was not springing from his loins.)  So, in July 1399, when Bolingbroke returned to England it was to popular acclaim and armed support.   

Bolingbroke justified his rebellion, claiming that he was only interested in the restoration of his father’s estate.  But he was making promises and alliances that indicated that he expected more than just the Duchy of Lancaster.  Richard buckled and capitulated; whether he made some superb speeches, you only have Shakespeare’s word for it.  Paraded as a prisoner on the way to London, Richard was “persuaded” to abdicate.  As of September 29, 1399: England had no king.  The following day, Parliament offered the Crown to Bolingbroke.  The wily Henry may have even acted surprise.  He now was Henry IV of England and (an unwilling) Wales.

Richard was dead within a year; someone forgot to feed him.  And Henry found that “uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”  Usurpation can set a tempting precedence.  The Plantagenets were a large and underemployed family.  All of Henry’s cousins tried to wrest the throne for themselves; they did not succeed–at least for another two generations–but the intrigues and struggles would last 85 years and 8 plays.

Happy Anniversary to All Our Jesuit Readers

Posted in General, On This Day on September 26th, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – 4 Comments

Doctrine No DR NO marqueeSeptember 27, 1540:  The Church’s Secret Weapon

What if James Bond had a MBA as well as a license to kill?  The very idea may be too horrifying for you, but it wasn’t for Pope Paul  III.  On this day in 1540, the Pontiff gave his authorization-and evidently his blessing-to the Society of Jesus. As we now know, the founding of the Jesuits was a major event in the history of exorcism. Finally, there were priests as literate as the Devil. At the time, however, the Pope was interested in only one exorcism: a certain Professor Luther.

Upon becoming Pope, Paul III had attempted reconciliation with the Protestants. His approach was reassuring, saying in effect, “You now are dealing with an adult. At least, I am not a de Medici.” His holier-than-them attitude was in the highest standards of hypocrisy. Born Alessandro Farnese, he had become a Cardinal at the age of 25 because his sister was the mistress of Pope Julius II. And the young Cardinal never lacked a social life, either. As Pope, he appointed two of his grandsons as Cardinals. Nevertheless, he was an improvement over his predecessors. Paul III viewed the Church in a global role. The de Medici Popes had shown the political perspective of Florentine aldermen.

To his disappointment, however, Paul III was not the answer to the Protestants’ prayers. The Princes of Northern Europe-and that extrovert in England-had discovered a profound spirituality in confiscating the Church’s wealth and they were not ready to repent a penny. (One family of minor princes in Brandenburg, Germany had subsisted on the salaries and graft of Church offices: a bishopric here, a priory there, a Grand Master of this and that. Then the Reformation inspired them: why settle for a tithe of a tithe when you can wring the entire archdiocese. After that, the Hohenzollerns would not be so minor.)

Since Paul III could not coax the Protestants into reconciliation, he would scheme them into oblivion. The Pope proved a dynamo of plans and plots. He cured France’s Francis I of his Protestant leanings by a form of faith-healing called bribes; the Church lost income but kept France. The Pope also negotiated a peace between the usually warring France and the Holy Roman Empire; Catholic nations should not slaughter each other when there were Protestants to kill. Acknowledging that the Church’s miserable reputation had incited the Protestants, the Pope summoned the Council of Trent to undertake desperately overdue reforms. (The Farnese would condemn nepotism by other families.)

And the Jesuits certainly fit into the Pope’s scheme of things. Here was a religious order that reflected the best of the Renaissance’s virtues and vices. The brilliant and highly trained Jesuits could convert, subvert, charm and kill with equal aplomb. Yes, they were fanatics-what else could you expect from an organization founded by Spaniards-but they were fanatics with taste. They dismissed the Inquisition’s wholesale persecutions as just a vulgar waste of kindling. The Jesuits preferred knowing the right people, whether to cultivate or eradicate them.

Their sinister charm proved successful in preventing further defections to Protestantism. Confiscating the Church’s wealth had an obvious appeal to the aristocracy of Poland and Hungary, but the Jesuits made themselves irresistible and indispensable to the ruling classes. And if the nobles remained Catholic, so did their peasants.

Of course, the Jesuits also had their failures but they were always spectacular. They never did manage to assassinate Elizabeth I or foist Mary Stuart on to the throne of England. The Jesuits did succeed in overthrowing Tsar Fedor II in 1605, but one coup was insufficient to convert Russia. They also backed the wrong side in a Japanese civil war in 1600. The winning warlord, taking over the Shogunate and rule of the country, proved very vindictive. Of course, the Jesuits were expelled from Japan but so were all Europeans. The Jesuits’ interference would result in two centuries of Japanese isolation.

Today, the Jesuits are generally regarded as benevolent activists. Given their erudite reputation, they are often considered liberals. Yet, there remain traces of their notoriety and you can find them in high school literature. Would “The Three Musketeers” have faced such perils if Cardinal Richelieu had been a Franciscan?