FinermanWorks

In honor of the 456th birthday of  Johan Frederick, Elector of Saxony and “Champion of the Reformation”, let’s discuss the man who didn’t kill him. 

Charles V–Holy Roman Emperor, King of Spain, Archduke of Austria, Grand Duke of Burgundy and general landlord of Christendom–must have felt very good in 1547. Aside from his damn gout, everything was going his way.   His chronic enemy–Francis I–was preoccupied with dying of syphilis. His greatest threat–the Ottoman Empire–was pinned down in a war with the Persia. (The Turks had seized three of Persia’s western provinces, but discovered that it is easier to invade Mesopotamia than to hold it.) Yes, the Council of Trent was bugging Charles to crush the Protestant heresy–but so what! He had never been particularly fond of Popes and Cardinals; indeed, he had tolerated Luther for being less offensive than the Medici Popes. No, the Church’s most powerful parishioneer would move against the Protestants only when–and if–he was ready; and Charles, having his father’s Flemish temperament rather than his Mother’s Spanish one, first had to be provoked.

But the Protestant princes of Northern Germany were flouting imperial authority. They were confiscating the Church’s property and appointing Protestants to bishoprics, defying Charles’ edicts to respect the rights and privileges of the Catholic Church. The Princes further aggravated the Emperor by forming a defensive alliance in 1531, the cacophonously named Schmalkaldic League. Charles was insulted but not endangered; so he could wait.

In fact, Charles waited 15 years; and in 1546, the timing was right. Saxony was the bastion of Protestantism. It had provided sanctuary and support to the young Professor Luther. Saxony’s prince Johan Frederick (Happy Birthday) had founded the Schmalkaldic League. Now, however, Johan Frederick was threatened by the usurping designs of an ambitious cousin. And guess who Charles decided to support? Of course, the Schmalkaldic League rallied to the support of Johan Frederick and, in effect, declared war on the Emperor.

The Northern Princes may have had religion in common, but apparently little else. They were still trying to coordinate their forces when the Emperor’s much larger army descended upon them at Muhlberg in 1547. The battle was short, decisive, and not the most encouraging affirmation of the Reformation. The Schmalkaldic League proved to be as ridiculous as it sounded.  Johan Frederick of Saxony was captured, threatened with death and forced to cede his sovereignty and most of his lands to his annoying cousin.

The Protestant Princes once again were mindful of etiquette: the Emperor always takes precedence. Charles’ sovereignty was reestablished, but the Emperor sensed that his victory had limits. Any attempt to eradicate Protestantism would be prolonged, very bloody and probably impossible. (His great-grandsons would fight a Thirty Years War to learn that.) Charles was content with a political victory rather than a theological chimera.

Johan Frederick had to be content with his life. His cousin reigned in Saxony and that branch of the family would continue to do so until 1918. The dispossessed Prince–now a mere duke–and his descendants were reduced to ruling over a few motley towns and estates. Their little realm was known by its most prominent properties: the town of Coburg and the duchy of Gotha.

And in time, the family of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha would acquire a few more properties to alleviate the loss of Saxony. The job in Brussels helped, and the position in London is pretty prestigious.

The Supreme Court ruled, in a 5 to 4 decision, that Justice Clarence Thomas was to have his own drinking fountain. Justice Thomas, who voted with the majority, expressed his delight with his separate but equal distinction. The “fountain” actually is a garden hose located in the back of the Supreme Court building.

Writing in her dissent, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg noted that the “fountain” would be frozen during the winter months. Justice Antonin Scalia responded by punching her in the mouth and writing, in Latin verse, that snow on the ground made an excellent source of water.

The hose will be officially known as the Clarence Thomas Memorial Fountain because, in a 5 to 4 decision, the Court ruled that Justice Thomas should be executed for miscegnation. Justice Thomas voted with the majority.

June 28, 1914: Belgrade

The Serbian Press Secretary opened the news conference with this statement.

“The Serbian government was sad to learn that the Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife the Archduchess Sophia shot each other today. We wish that they had found a more peaceful way to solve their marital problems.”

I will now answer your questions.

Reporter: Eyewitnesses report that the couple was assassinated by a terrorist linked to Serbia. Is the Serbian government denying any connection to this terrorist organization?

Spokesmanvic: There have been so many assassinations and it is just pointless and malicious to allege that this government had any knowledge, link or responsibility for the murder of President McKinley.

Reporter: The Austrian government is accusing Serbia of supporting terrorists.

Spokesmanvic: Look, this “event” probably was a carjacking that got out of hand. If the conspiracy-paranoids in Austria need a culprit, they should accuse Mexico. There is no question that the Mexicans killed the Archduke Maximilian, and a Chicano street gang may have killed Franz Ferdinand as a member initiation.

Reporter: I’m Clive Murdoch of the Melbourne Swagman. Got me a two part question. Is it possible that the assassination was the work of bolshevik-anarchists and do you have nude photos of the Archduchess for our page three?

Spokesmanvic: Yes and no. And those were excellent questions.

Reporter: Do you feel that the controversial, iconoclastic studies of Freud and the provocative, scathing plays of Arthur Schnitzler offer any predicative insights into the psychology and actions of pre-post-modernist Vienna?

Spokesmanvic: You’re from The New York Times, aren’t you? Yes, the Austrians want to kill us. Interestingly enough, they also want to kill Freud and Schnitzler.

It seems only 70 years ago that Germany was denouncing another “money-making cult” that also had a real affinity for show business. If I were handling Germany’s PR (a full-time job), I would come up with a more tactful denunciation.Here are some possibilities:

a. The German people can’t condone anyone leaving Nicole Kidman for Katie Holmes.

b. The German people would rather see a sequel to “Risky Business”.

c. The German people have nothing against Scientologists, but would prefer John Travolta as von Stauffenberg–especially for the dance sequences.

Alas, on this day in 363, Julian the Apostate was killed.  Ruling the Roman Empire from 361 to 363, Julian was the last pagan emperor and the first management consultant.

Since 312, the Empire had been operating on a new managerial system called Christianity. The prototype of Total Quality Management, Christianity provided the benefits of monotheism without circumcision. It also offered eternal retirement benefits, which proved very popular among the meek. Constantine imagined that Christianity would be a cohesive and subservient force for the government. Instead, the Christian sects were fighting each other when they weren’t persecuting everyone else. Christianity certainly did not discourage fraticide in the Imperial family. Constantine’s sons killed each other off, leaving the throne to cousin Julian. Having barely survived the carnage, he was not impressed with Christianity. To save the Empire, Julian tried to reinvent Paganism.But as a graduate of the best schools in the Empire, Julian felt that Paganism needed intellectual dignity: fewer orgies, more seminars. So the Emperor preached Neo-Platonism, a unique combination of philosophy and animal sacrifices. His religion would appeal to the masses’ minds rather than to their fears and hopes.His approach certainly had cerebral appeal. Pagans had fun, Christians had solace but Neoplatonists had metaphysics. There weren’t many converts. The Christians resented Julian, while the pagans were just bewildered. (The Jews liked him because he wasn’t persecuting them.)

Unfortunately, Julian did not have a chance to promote his metaphysical, synergized paradigm. While leading the Roman army against Persia, he was killed in battle. We still don’t know by which side.

On this day in 1876, George Armstrong Custer thought he had a brilliant idea to propel his Presidential campaign. He would wipe out an Indian encampment on the Little Big Horn River. Such a glorious victory would overshadow the other contenders for the Democratic nomination. Unfortunately, Col. Custer seemed to have underestimated the number of Indian braves or Tilden supporters at the Little Big Horn.He didn’t live to regret it. Neither did half of the Seventh Cavalry.

“DIAZ’S BAG WITH MAOIST SLOGAN RAISES IRE

Associated Press

Actress Cameron Diaz appears to have committed a major fashion faux pas in Peru. The voice of Princess Fiona in the animated “Shrek” films may have inadvertently offended Peruvians who suffered decades of violence from a Maoist guerrilla insurgency by touring here Friday with a bag emblazoned with one of Mao Zedong’s favorite political slogans.

While explored the Inca city of Machu Picchu high in Peru’s Andes, Diaz wore over her shoulder an olive green messenger bag emblazoned with a red star and the words “Serve the People” printed in Chinese on the flap, perhaps Chinese Communist leader Mao’s most famous political slogan.”

Ms. Diaz was surprised to learn that “Serve the People” was not the slogan of a restaurant chain, and that Mao was not known for fast food.

The actress was also dismayed to learn the meaning of  her T-Shirt quoting “Workers of the World Unite, You Have Nothing to Lose But Your Chains”.  She had assumed that Karl Marx designed jewelry.

“On this day in 1854, the British Parliament abolished feudalism in Canada.”

But for that, the Governor-General might have had the right to sleep with any bride on her wedding night. However, that would have made an interesting episode on “Anne of Green Gables.”

In fact, Parliament’s act was really meant for Quebec and the French populace. Les Canadiens still maintained a seigneurial system. After its conquest of Quebec, Britain found herself with a 100,000 new and less than loyal subjects. Expelling them all would have been impossible. (Acadia only had a population of 7,000–and it was conveniently on the coast.) The British, showing surprising–even unprecedented–tact, allowed their conquered French subjects a generous autonomy.

The day to day affairs in the villes were left to the local chieftains and bullies: the usual cabal of landowners and priests. In fact, these Canadien dignitaries enjoyed more power under Britain than the bureaucrats of France had allowed them. They were able to control and maintain their conservative, seigneurial society well into the 19th century.

That accommodation did keep les Canadiens loyal to Britain. Given their conservative temperament and comfortable arrangement, they certainly were not tempted to join the American radicals in their rebellion against Britain. And the French Revolution and Napoleon would have been abhorrently liberal to them. This was a society where the pulpits and church-run schools equated Voltaire with the Anti-Christ.

By 1854, however, Britain felt that Quebec was ready for the 19th century–or at least the 18th. Of course, Parliament’s noble sentiments required shrewd application, and the Crown played a skillful political game. The Byzantines may have invented the strategem of “divide and conquer” but the British made an art of it. There were two powers controlling the Canadien society; the British would undermine one while embracing the other. Britain’s affection for the Catholic Church would have amazed any Irishman, but it was the official and conspicuous policy in Quebec. The Church would have the first word and final say in local matters. For all practical purposes, a priest was an alderman and the bishop was the mayor.

In view of this accommodation, the Church agreed that it was un-Christian to have serfs. The landowners would simply have to regard their farm workers as better than livestock.

In what has become a tradition in desperation, the American Film Institute is having its yearly Hundred Greatest Somethings.  We have had the Hundred Greatest Films, Hundred Greatest Comedies, Hundred Greatest Songs from the Hundred Greatest Films, Hundred Greatest Gaffers, etc.  What’s left to award?  The Hundred Greatest Studio Catering Services.  (The obvious winner would be the New Zealand caterers for The Lord of the Rings; they served 47 different versions of lamb without driving Ian McKellen to suicide.)

I would be more interested if the AFI started awarding the worst in Hollywood.  We could have The Hundred Worst Flops, The Hundred Worst Sequels, The Hundred Worst Musicals, The Hundred Most Inexplicable Stars in Hollywood.   

I would like to start off with my nomination for The Most Miscast Film: Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis in “The Vikings.”  Yes, you can only imagine how two Jews would have terrorized 9th century Britain.  It would have been a overwhelming wave of White Collar Crime:  a dishonest auditing of The Book of Kells,  and Alfred the Great subjected to unnecessary medical tests.

On this day in 1815 General von Blucher won the battle of Waterloo. The Duke of Wellington took the credit, and the Prussians pretended not to mind.

Wellington was willing to share his victory–with his alumni association:  “The battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton.” In other words, the elan of upper-class twits was a more decisive factor than French incompetence or the timely arrival of that friendly Prussian army.

In fact, Napoleon should have won Waterloo.  Wellington’s forces were a dubious compiliation of third choices: untested British troops, German forces more likely to desert and Dutch soldiers more likely to defect to the French. (The best British troops–Wellington’s veterans from the Peninsular War–had been shipped off to America, where they burned Washington but then had been decimated at New Orleans.)  By contrast, Napoleon’s army was larger and comprised of veterans; the ones who survived Russia had to be indestructible.     

Although Wellington had placed his forces in an excellent defensive position, the French army should have been able to ground them down and rout them.  However, that day Napoleon seemed to have already exiled himself  to St. Helena’s.  The Emperor who usually supervised every detail was abdicating all the decisions to his generals, who seemed intent to do everything wrong.  The French attacks are pointless or uncoordinated; the infantry gets bogged down while the cavalry is squandered.  The arrival of the Prussian army simply ended the French farce.

But what if the French had won Waterloo?  It would have ruined Wellington’s perfect record, and the innkeepers of Brussels would have been accepting Francs instead of Pounds that night; yet, Napoleon still would have lost eventually.  However much Russia, Prussia, Austria and Britain quarreled and undermined each other at the conference tables at the Congress of Vienna, they were not going to tolerate the return of Napoleon.  They would keep raising armies against him until they finally had defeated him.   ABBA eventually would have had a song.

Did Napoleon think otherwise?  He certainly must have overestimated his charisma.  Perhaps he expected that America would break the Treaty of Ghent, and that Andrew Jackson would lead an amphibious invasion of England.  (“One thousand canoes landed in Cornwall this morning….”)  No, Napoleon obviously was a gambler.  Any of us would have been content with his achievements in 1807: ruling France and Italy, and dominating Germany and Austria. We wouldn’t have invaded Spain or Russia, and eventually ended up an exiled pariah.  But then, none of us are Napoleon and we wouldn’t have overwhelmed Europe–and history– in the first place.