The charm of old books often lies in their inaccuracies, errors, and absurdities. It is not a requirement of entertainment that everything must be factual. It is a pleasant thing to be reminded every now and then of our humanity; and nothing is more human than error. Only by seeing how far knowledge has advanced through the centuries can we appreciate the achievements of those who came before us.
There are times in a leader’s experience when it will be prudent to watch and await developments. Sometimes more is to be gained by figuratively taking off one’s pack, sitting down on the side of the road, and monitoring the flow of events, than by leaping into the fray. On the other hand, there are also just as many–if not more–times when decisive and speedy action is necessary to deal with a nascent problem. Knowing when to wait and when to act is one of those key questions that we all have to confront sooner or later. It is ultimately a tactical decision for which no firm rules can be laid out: every situation must be evaluated on its own merits.
We have previously described in these pages the exploits of Heinrich Barth, one of the titans of African exploration. Before him was Dixon Denham, a British explorer whose name is also hardly known today. He covered some of the same ground as did Barth, but he had a different style; where Barth was a scientist and ethnographer at heart, Denham was a soldier with an eye for people, relationships, terrain, and–it must be said–trouble.
Of some scholars, or patrons of the arts, it can be said that they sacrificed everything for their work. Of others, this cannot be said. Edward King, Viscount of Kingsborough, belongs to the former category. His name is almost entirely unknown today, but he occupies a significant place in the pantheon of heroes who helped bring the treasures of Mexican antiquity to the attention of modern scholarship. The least we can do here is honor his name.
A reader has some questions about giving his son advice on educational and career choices. He is torn between emphasizing what is “practical” and what he feels “passionate” about. Which one is more important? And if given the option, which one should be emphasized?
I offer six points that might help him in coming to his own conclusions.
The belief in portents and auguries was common before the modern era. We moderns, comfortably ensconced in our towers of science and “rationalism,” are likely to view with extreme skepticism the notion that future events can be foretold. Such a view would appear to some as a superstitious relic from a less enlightened era. Or so we would like to imagine.
One of the most famous naval engagements in American history was the duel fought at Hampton Roads, Virginia, on March 9, 1862 between the ironclad warships USS Monitor and CSS Merrimack (more precisely named the CSS Virginia). I have recently been learning much more about the details of the battle, in Richard Snow’s wonderfully entertaining Iron Dawn: The Monitor, the Merrimack, and the Civil War Sea Battle That Changed History. I listened to the audiobook, and wanted to convey some basic outlines of the story here.
I was informed today that an excellent Portuguese translation of my essay The Engrossed appeared on the site Nuvem de Giz. I very much appreciate the efforts of translator Sr. Daniel Castro, and am grateful that he found the essay to have been worthy of his efforts. The translation can be found here.
Stalin biographer Steven Kotkin relates this ominous anecdote in the second volume of his monumental three-volume study of the Soviet dictator’s life and times. It shows–perhaps more clearly than any other anecdote–just how a man’s fate can hinge on a few critical moments in his life.
In this podcast we discuss three movies: “Good People” (2014), “Smoke and Mirrors” (El Hombre de las Mil Caras)(2016), and the truly unsettling “The Killing of a Sacred Deer” (2017).
Quintus Curtius 
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