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On this day in 1858, Abraham Lincoln and Stephen Douglas held the first of seven debates in their campaign for the U.S. Senate. Each debate lasted three hours and addressed only one question. Somehow the two men carried on without an interrogating panel of reporters or pundits. It evidently was a more primitive time. Here is how a modern debate would have been….

Reporter: Mr. Lincoln, you are quoted as saying that “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” What is the basis of your harsh criticism of the American construction industry?

Lincoln: You misunderstand me. It is a quotation from the Bible which I used as metaphor reflecting the divisive issue of slavery.

Douglas: I refuse to believe that the Bible is critical of the American construction industry. May God forgive you, Mr. Lincoln!

Pundit: Mr. Douglas, you were known to have courted Mary Todd before she married Mr. Lincoln. Do you believe that she is too promiscuous to be a senator’s wife?

Douglas: Let me assure the public that I will never be the first to exhibit daguerreotypes of the naked Mrs. Lincoln for political purposes. And I invite Mr. Lincoln to make the same pledge.

Lincoln: What?

Commentator: Mr. Lincoln, during your one term in Congress, you opposed the Mexican War. Do you hate our soldiers or do you just prefer Mexicans?

Lincoln: I oppose unnecessary wars.

Douglas: While I would not question the patriotism of my craven, timorous opponent, I have always been a full-throated supporter of victory–and I am adamantly opposed to defeat.

Psychologist: Mr. Douglas, you are a proponent of popular sovereignty. Yet, being an embarrassingly short man with a pompous personality, you certainly are not as popular as the affable Mr. Lincoln. What in your miserable childhood led you into politics?

Douglas: My dedication to public service and the opportunity for revenge.

Lincoln: Do you really have naked daguerreotypes of my wife?

In the news reports from Baghdad, if you still bother to pay attention, you would have heard of the Yarmouk Hospital. It is that dilapidated, pathetic locale for hapless Iraqi civilians to get some facsimile of healthcare. So, who was this namesake Yarmouk? An outstanding physician? A generous (or guilt-ridden) philanthropist?

In fact, Yarmouk was a battle. (So much for Iraqi charm. Wouldn’t you want to go to a hospital named for Iwo Jima?) Of course, Yarmouk was an Arab victory and–however obscure it may be to you–it was one of the most significant battles in history. But for Yarmouk, the Middle East might still be Christian.

Until 636, Islam was still confined to Arabia. The Caliph of the new religion had sent large raiding parties to plunder the infidel neighbors; and the affluent Byzantines certainly had lots worth stealing. In fact, given the lethargic Byzantine defenses, the Arabs burglarized the entire city of Damascus. That heist finally got Constantinople’s attention. (We’ll have to postpone this theological debate over whether or not the Christ child was born potty-trained.) The Emperor Heraclius ordered the army to stop the Arab incursions.

The approach of perhaps 80,000 Byzantines convinced the Arab expeditions to make a prudent exit from Syria. Having one third as many men, the Arab forces retreated as far south as the Yarmouk River valley, which forms the border of modern Syria and Jordan. There they took up defensive positions and awaited the Byzantine attack. And waited and waited and waited. The Byzantines had stopped on the other side of the valley, and began a three-month-long staring contest.

During that three months, the Byzantines made several attempts to negotiate. Considering the Imperial forces’ numerical superiority, the Arab Commander must have been impressed with the Byzantines’ generosity or stupidity. Had the situation been reversed, he would not have hesitated to attack. However, under the circumstances, he was willing to negotiate if only to stall for reenforcements. They arrived, but he still had half as many men as the Byzantines. So the staring contest continued until the Byzantines blinked.

They had no choice in the matter; they were downwind of a sandstorm. And they soon found themselves downwind and under the Arab cavalry. Taking advantage of Allah’s gift of weather, the Arabs attacked. At least half of the Byzantine army was annihilated, the survivors were in disorganized flight. Syria and Palestine were defenseless; the Arabs’ strategy was no longer smash and grab. They were there to stay, and they soon found that Egypt and North Africa were easy pickings as well.

So on this day in 636, Byzantine incompetence lost half of an empire, gave the Arabs the Middle East and left us with the consequences.

Today would be his 320th birthday, but Frederick William I would not want you to waste on a cake and candles. Just goosestep 320 times and that might suffice the Prussian king.

If you were a Prussian taxpayer, you might appreciate having a cheap king: no lavish court, no extravagant palaces, no wasteful bureaucracy. Frederick William was so equitably parsimonious that he even taxed himself. Of course, a king still has to maintain some appearances; but for a Prussian king, those appearances can be limited to the army. Even there, Frederick William could be stinting: no unnecessary wars! Prussia did not need any more territory, and glory was a frivolous expenditure.

Yes, Frederick William was an excellent king. You also would want to avoid him: the man was a horrible brute. He had no compunctions about caning the servants in the face. But he was equitable here, too–doing the same to his family. His favorite target–or greatest disappointment–was his eldest son Frederick. The prince was intellectual and “artistic.” Of course, Frederick William knew how to cure his son’s sensitivity.

The Prince would be punished for any signs of weakness. If the child fell off his horse or wore gloves in cold weather, he would receive an invigorating, manly beating. The prince knew how to survive and learned the family business–soldiering–but he dreamed of escape. His uncle George in Britain had a good job and a decent nature; perhaps he would give his battered nephew sanctuary. The 18 year-old attempted to escape–along with a “special friend”–but the two were captured. Frederick William charged them with treason–although Prussia was allied to Britain (and George II was both his first cousin and brother-in-law). The King ordered his son to be court-martialed; however the very methodical, compunctional and cost-effective Prussian bureaucracy explained that it lacked the jurisdiction to try crown princes. No doubt some hapless bureaucrat got caned in the face, but Frederick William did defer to his own laws.

The special friend did not have any royal immunity. He was beheaded, and Prince Frederick was forced to watch. The Prince spent several months in solitary confinement, but eventually was allowed out on a work-release program. Frederick was assigned duties in the auditing office of the department of agriculture. After a year’s rehabilitation, Frederick was permitted again at court. The apparently dutiful Prince was willing to oblige one of Dad’s demands for manliness; Frederick agreed to get married. The luckless bride, just another German duchess, never expected to marry for love; but she would not even get the physical facsimile of it. Even Frederick William never tried to coerce the marriage’s consummation. (Oh well, he had other sons who weren’t artistic.)

The Prince just bided his time, and that time came in 1740. King Frederick intended to be the opposite of his father. He provoked wars–which he at least had the talent to win. He created an intellectual court where he insisted that French be spoken. (Frederick hated the sound of German.)

And guess which of the two–Frederick William or Frederick–does history bestow the accolade of “The Great”.

However, Frederick the Great was personally very cheap. Some things can be taught.

August 5, 641: A sainthood is always a nice consolation gift

On this day in 641, King Oswald of Northumbria became a martyr. He died attacking another English kinglet–Penda of Mercia—who evidently could defend himself. Since Penda was a pagan, that qualified Oswald for a sainthood. If Penda had also been Christian, then the slaughter would only have been intramural–and Oswald’s death would not have scored a halo.

But Penda’s victory was really the last Valhalliday for British pagans. The Angle-Saxon kingdoms were succumbing to the power and organization of an indominable Church: the Church of Ireland. Yes, at the time when the Pope was a threadbare Byzantine flunky–with the social standing of an assistant postmaster in Macedonia–the autonomous Church of Ireland was thriving, sending out its missionaries throughout the British Isles and onto the European continental. Britain, the Low Countries and Germany were being converted to the brogue.

By contrast, Rome’s organization in western Europe was a tenuous and nepotic network of patricians who served as bishops to protect themselves and their estates from barbarian encroachments. (The barbarians showed a superstitious deference to the Church; that was one way you could tell that they were barbarians.) This Church was hostage to the moods of barbarian princes as well as Byzantine magistrates. (Popes had been hauled off in chains to Constantinople.) So any claim to Rome’s primacy would have been a joke.

Yet, Rome persistently made that claim. Of course, it would have been effortless to ignore the pretensions of a figurehead of a theoretical church. But the Church of Ireland did not. By the mid-seventh century, it had grown and now was adminstering the ecclesiastical policies of all Britain. Yet a number of its prelates felt their British Church should abandon its autonomy and become subordinate to Rome. They were willing to cede their power and independence for the sake of a spiritual idea. Perhaps that was Christianity in action. The Celtic/British Church convened at a council in Whitby in 661 and, in effect, voted itself out of existence. The most organized and dynamic ecclesiastical system in Western Europe had submitted itself to a powerless, precariously balanced bishop in Rome.

And with that recognition, the Roman Church had become Catholic.

The Wrap Party:
I hope that you had a chance to see my premiere on YouTube. Of course, being only the writer, I am the least important contributor to the work. The real kudos must go to the clever animator Sue Amsbaugh and to the talented mimic Bob Kincaid (the Gielgud of West Virginia).

You should also read the shrill responses from Michael Savage’s fans. The bile-spewing commentator appeals to a very disturbed audience. At least while his fanatics are typing out their hysterics, they are too busy to torture small animals. By contrast, the Rush Limbaugh fan seems like Alastair Cooke.

On this day in A.D. 70:

If you had booked the Temple of Jerusalem for a wedding or a bar mitzvah, ask the High Priest for a refund. Either that, or ask the cater to set up some extra tables for a rampaging Roman army. On third thought, get the refund. The Romans destroyed the Temple. And don’t let the High Priest or your insurance agent claim that it was an act of God. After all, which God? I’d say it was Mars, although it took the War God and Rome four months to crush Jerusalem.

To commemorate this day, I will be eating spumoni ice cream. But for the Romans and their pacification policy of exiling the Judeans to Europe (where no doubt we would lose our identity), today I might look Yassir Arafat. (Worse, my wife might.) Instead we were forced to wade through some better looking gene pools. So, thanks Rome.

On This Day in 1704:

Austria gained control of Gibraltar. At least, the British claimed the captured peninsula on behalf of Archduke Karl, their candidate for the Spanish throne. Yet, the British somehow never did turn over Gibraltar; perhaps, they were waiting for the Austrian navy to show up. The British settled in and soon abandoned all pretense of acting for their Hapsburg ally. Of course, the Spanish and their French allies attempted to retake Gibraltar but they learned this lesson in military topography.
Attacking from the sea, you can take Gibraltar. Attacking from land, you can’t.

In 1713, with the signing of the Treaty of Utrecht, the Spanish ceded control of Gibraltar only on condition that “no leave shall be given under any pretence whatsoever, either to Jews or Moors, to reside or have their dwellings in the said town of Gibraltar.” The British agreed but they did not order their immigration officers to check everyone for foreskins. And once the Jews and Moors were back, the British did not ask them to leave. (Irish Catholics would have been less welcomed.) Of course, Spain declared that this was a violation of the Treaty and used it as a justification for another war. But once again the Spanish attacked by land, with predictable results.

Spain–with French support–attacked again in 1782 and this time remembered to use ships as well as a large army. Good strategy but bad timing. The British had been preoccupied trying to restore order over some dyspeptic colonies in North America, but after 1781 had signed an armistice with the rebels. Britain was now free to thrash the Spanish and the French–which is exactly what happened.

Yet Spain would try once more. In 1808, with Spanish permission, Napoleon and his forces marched into Iberia with the understanding that he take Gibraltar. But there must have been a misunderstanding; Napoleon seized Spain instead. Add a cedilla to the irony, the Spanish needed the British to drive out the French.

(And Hitler offered to march through Spain to take Gibraltar. For some reason, Franco refused.)

Of course, Spain still demands the return of Gibraltar. Britain will probably schedule that a week after it returns the Elgin Marbles.

On this day in A.D. 64, Rome would have made a great music video for “Light My Fire.” This is not to compare Nero with James Morrison, although I am not sure who would suffer more by the comparison. If you believe “Quo Vadis”, then Nero started the fire if only to give himself a topic for an epic poem. But then you would also have to believe that Deborah Kerr would really prefer a frigid corpse like Robert Taylor to the adorable Peter Ustinov.

Historians believe that the Great Fire was just a natural calamity, the unfortunate flammable nature of Rome’s crowded wooden tenements. Yet, the Imperial government found a scapegoat for the conflagration: a small cult of Jewish schismatics. The cult’s numbers would not have totalled enough for an interesting persecution, and the group was so obscure that it should have escaped notice. Only the other Jews were somewhat familiar with it, and they didn’t like it much. However, the Romans barely tolerated any Jews. Nero took a particular pleasure in baiting them, sending increasingly more rapacious and cruel governors to ravage Judea. (The province finally revolted in 66.) So, given their general unpopularity in the Hellenized world, Jews would have made a much easier scapegoat for the Great Fire.

Why did the Imperial government overlook the easier target, and sift through all the Jewish sects to persecute one particular group? As we know from this cult’s earliest writings, the group was apocalyptic and awaiting the imminent end of the world. Its Rome congregation, witnessing the imperial city in flames, must have seen this as proof of the end times. With that impression, they would have celebrated the conflagration as their theological fulfillment. So, although they had not started the Great Fire, they were probably cheering it on; and their pagan neighbors would have resented that. The subsequent complaints led to the cult’s arrest and prosecution. The Roman government really thought that these pyrophiles were guilty, in thought if not deed.

As it turned out, the world did not end. Neither did that cult; it simply rescheduled its promised Apocalypse to an unspecified time.

Thomas Jefferson was the copywriter of the Declaration of Independence. Yes, alas, our country’s founding document is a masterpiece of product placement. In fairness to Jefferson, the shameless hucksterism was not his idea. Poor Tom was manipulated and bullied by the business manager of the Continental Congress.

The Congress had hired a young Scotsman, an economics major at Columbia, to get corporate discounts on quills–and maybe a few “comps” at Philiadelphia taverns. But the teenage “go-getter” took the initiative of selling advertising space on the Declaration. The income covered his salary as well as a consulting fee for John Hancock. Any money leftover would be sent to the Continental Army. So Jefferson was told that he had to insert the commercial plugs into his writing.

Some of Jefferson’s most stirring prose was actually ad copy. Consider his evocation of “Nature’s God.” That was not an expression of his deism but an endorsement of a then popular laxative. (The combination of tobacco and pork fat really is effective.) Unfortunately, many of the advertisers were infuriated by misprints in the Declaration. For example, there was to be an ad touting the inn of Aileen and Abel Wright; but no one wants to stay at an “Un.” And you can imagine the indignation of the wig manufacturer The Hirsute of Happiness. The corrections were made on the second printing of the Declaration, but no one apparently read it.

Many of the delegates at the Continental Congress resented the blatant commercialism and their exploitation as celebrity endorsers. (Only Ben Franklin was allowed to market Ben Franklin!) The Declaration was almost voted down; by and large, the delegates preferred the tyranny of George III to that of Alexander Hamilton. The American Revolution was saved when Jefferson added a codicil to the Declaration; only then, the delegates eagerly pledged “our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.” Surprisingly, it took 28 years before a hitman collected on the contract.

There was a fifty/fifty chance that one of our states might have been “Henriettaland”. Fortunately, the wife of Charles I had a more palatable middle name: Marie. That probably was the most tolerable thing about her.

On this day in 1625, she became the wife of Charles I. What an unfortunate time for an English king to be a heterosexual. It did not help that Charles was a weak-willed dolt. The French Princess Henrietta was a domineering, belligerent moron. Her father, Henri IV was a wise, adroit, charming, tolerant ruler but who died when his daughter was an infant. Henrietta took after her mother, a blundering battle-axe (yes, Henri cheated on her) whose inept regency of France triggered rebellion and coups. In fact, the Queen Mother was eventually exiled by her annoyed son Louis XIII (on the always wise advice of then Bishop Richelieu).

However, England had no Richelieus. (James I had picked his ministers for their looks.) Charles I simply…very simply…deferred to his wife. Henrietta’s goading and provocations triggered the civil war that would kill her husband. In fairness, Cromwell should have beheaded her, too–but she was watching the Civil War from a spectator’s box in France.

Upon Restoration of the monarchy, she returned to England where her belligerent nature quickly exasperated her wise, adroit, charming, tolerant son Charles II (who obviously took after grandpere). She was encouraged to retire to France.

Nonetheless, as an observant Catholic, Henrietta Marie did have some admirers–among them her fellow parishioner Lord Calvert. In 1632 Calvert decided to sponsor a Catholic colony in North America, and it seemed a clever idea to name the haven for both the Queen of England…and the presumed Queen of Heaven.

According to the best-sellers list from 20 years ago, the Japanese were expected to be running the universe by now. The Yen was almighty, and the rest of the world was simply Japan’s outer islands. Any aspiring entrepreneur was told to think like a samurai–except for the hara-kiri. Corporations restructured themselves on the basis of two viewings of “Yojimbo.”

Of course, we now know that the Chinese will dominate the world. (No, it was not a case of mistaken identity. There is a physical difference between the Chinese and Japanese; the Japanese dress better.) The Japanese may actually have overworked. While putting in 80 hours a week at the job, they forgot to reproduce. Perhaps a 15 minute “coppy” break in the work day could have replenished the demographics; unfortunately, the Japanese sense of hygiene must have been a detriment. Japan now has a dwindling population.

No, the Japanese “invincibility” of the Eighties was simply that they were methodical. They knew a good idea when they stole one. Think of all the Japanese inventions. That didn’t take long. But consider how they successfully developed and marketed those products. If you would like an American television set, go to the Smithsonian. In fact, Japan was the first to use cheap Chinese labor for manufacturing. (The Chinese also know a good idea when they steal it.)

The Japanese are thoroughly methodical but they have no talent for improvision. How many Japanese comedians do you know? At an open-mike night in a Tokyo club, people would reenact their favorite scenes from Kabuki. This lack of spontaneity would explain why Kirosawa made so few comedies and why the Japanese lost the battle of Midway.

On this day in 1942, a Japanese fleet found itself totally disoriented (sorry but I couldn’t resist) by the presence of a smaller American force at Midway. The Japanese were surprised to find three evidently hostile aircraft carriers confronting them. No doubt, the Japanese would have liked a few days to contemplate the petals of a chrysanthemum and develop a brilliant strategy in a haiku. But we Americans are always in a rush–fighting a two-front war can be hectic–so we rather brusquely sank four Japanese carriers. Apparently, Zen is not a good defense.

If the Japanese were a more spontaneous people, they would not been so stupified by the surprises of war. Did they think that they had a monopoly on surprise attacks? Admiral Yamamoto did graduate work at Harvard but apparently none at the Lampoon. Just imagine if the Japanese fleet at Midway had been commanded instead by a Groucho Marx. The Japanese could have quickly reacted and reduced the American fleet to the equivalent of Margaret Dumont.

But the Japanese mind lacked that flexibility. You can’t fly by the seat of your pants when wearing a kimono.

Joan of Arc became the most famous French fry. With the exception of Antonin Scalia, we no longer regard witchcraft as a capital crime or even a tangible offense. In the 15th century, however, witchcraft seemed a plausible explanation for Joan’s triumph over the English at the siege of Orleans in 1429. Dressed in men’s clothing and leading an army, she certainly was an outlandish figure–why not a diabolical one. (At the time, no one in the British military thought of blaming the liberal media–which would have consisted of some dozen scribes at Oxford.) When Joan was captured by French collaborators and then sold to the English, she was put on trial for witchcraft.

But witchcraft was the Church’s jurisdiction. It had the responsibility for trying Joan of Arc. Ironically, by the standards of her time, Joan was not the victim of injustice. On the contrary, her trial was impeccably fair. She was not even tortured. (After all, she was never accused of being Jewish.) If you don’t believe me and your Latin is very good, feel free to read her trial transcripts. Yes, the Church took notes. Did you think that the phonetic similarity of “cleric” and “clerical” was just a coincidence? As the obligatory literates of the Middle Ages, the clerics had to keep baptismal records, read and file Papal bulls, and–in the case of heretics–fill out burning permits.

The Church was not even eager to incinerate the girl. In fact, it intended to save her life from the English whom she had humiliated. Any educated, impartial person would see that the young woman was just a lunatic; and that in itself was not a crime. On the other hand, she was very strange and the specific nature of her insanity required some form of incarceration. Joan claimed to talk to saints. That was not a theological impossibility, but the Church preferred to moderate the conversation. (G.B. Shaw postulated that Joan was a premature Protestant.) Furthermore, Britain constituted a powerful parishioner, and the Church needed to offer the English some revenge. Why not put Joan in prison for the rest of her life; there, she would no longer be a public disturbance and she could talk to the saints as much as she wanted.

Her legal counselors explained to Joan her predicament. If she insisted on her innocence, she would be executed. However, if she confessed to witchcraft, her life would be spared. The counselors unfortunately failed to explain that her spared life would be spent in prison. So Joan confessed to witchcraft but was surprised by a life sentence. Then Joan recanted her confession, and the Church recanted any interest in saving her life. She was turned over to the English and their limited culinary skills.

In fairness, the English really did believe that Joan was a witch. Some 150 years later, an awkward, heavy-handed but not completely talentless young playwright would depict Joan conjuring demons in the execrable play “Henry VI, part I.” With ten years’ practice, the playwright would make his Scottish witches much more memorable.

And the Church did apologize in 1920 by making Joan a saint.