Apothaneintheloish

Apothaneintheloish (pronounced uh-poth-un-inn-th-loe-ish)

An expression of a wish to die.

1968: The construct was apo + thanein + thelo + ish.  The Ancient Greek prefix ἀπό- (apó-) was from the preposition ἀπό (apó) (from, away from), from the primitive Indo-European hepo (off, away), the ultimate source also of the English words "off" & "of" and of (ab- came via Latin).  The English –ish was appended to create the adjectival form.  The -ish suffix was from the Middle English -ish & -isch, from the Old English -isċ (-ish (the suffix)), from the Proto-West Germanic -isk, from the Proto-Germanic -iskaz (-ish), from the primitive Indo-European -iskos.  It was cognate with the Dutch -s, the German -isch (from which Dutch would gain -isch), the Norwegian, Danish & Swedish -isk or -sk, the Lithuanian -iškas, the Russian -ский (-skij) and the Ancient Greek diminutive suffix -ίσκος (-ískos).  It was used to create adjectives (standard and (in the modern era) increasingly non-standard, even in slang as the stand-alone "ish" indicating “sort of”, “kind of”, “tending towards” etc).  In colloquial use it became a popular way to create both adjectives & nouns with a diminutive or derogatory implication.  The word was coined by the author Anthony Burgess (1917–1993).  Apothaneintheloish is an adjective.

A black-figure pottery vase (circa 500 BC) showing Thanatos (Death) and Hypnos (Sleep) carrying the dead body of the hero Sarpedon; discovered in Attica, Greece and now on display in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

In Greek mythology, Thantos was the god of death and the significance of Burgess's choice was that Thantos was associated specifically with a “graceful, peaceful departure from life”.  So, a vision of Thantos was a tap on the shoulder, a notice to quit the world and something known in English as "the visitation of the Angel of Death" and, except for those few wishing to go out in a “blaze of glory”, as one's death goes, a visit from Thantos was about as good as it got.   Thantos appears sometimes in commentaries by Freudians & neo-Freudians but Sigmund Freud (1856-1939) never used the word.  He used Todestrieb (death drive), the construct being Tod (death) +‎ -es- (in German a genitival interfix used to link elements in certain compounds) +‎ Trieb (sprout (but in the technical jargon of psychoanalysis specifically “drive” (in the sense of “desire, urge, impulse”)).  Freud in his famous Jenseits des Lustprinzips (Beyond the Pleasure Principle (1920)) borrowed the word (which he used more often in the plural (Todestriebe) (death drives) from Russian psychiatrist Sabina Spielrein (1885-1942 and a student and lover of Carl Jung (1875–1961)) who in 1912 had published the essay Die Destruktion als Ursache des Werdens (Destruction as the Cause of Coming Into Being).  The relationship between Freud & Spielrein was both convivial and entirely professional.  Thanatos came into popular use in psychoanalysis after it appeared in a paper by Austrian-American psychologist Paul Federn (1871–1950 and, like Freud, trained in Vienna).  Federn used Thanatos as a dichotomous contrast with eros (from the Ancient Greek ἔρως (érōs) (love, desire”) which in psychiatry) is used to describe the human “life drive” (the collective instincts for self-preservation).  In the profession it's used also of the libido and it's not only among the Freudians the link between the two uses is thought so fundamental.

The Greek phrase Apothanein thelo (I want to die) concludes the epigraph of TS Eliot’s (1888–1965) The Waste Land: “Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidiin ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: Σίβνλλα τί ϴέλεις; respondebat illa: άπο ϴανεΐν ϴέλω.”  The text was from the satirical novel Satyricon, presumed written by the Roman courtier Petronius (Gaius Petronius Arbiter, circa 27–66), Eliot’s translation being: “I saw with my own eyes the Sibyl at Cumae hanging in a cage, and when the boys said to her: ‘Sibyl, what do you want?’ she answered: ‘I want to die.’”

Apollo and the Cumaean Sibyl (circa 1670), oil on canvas by Giovanni Domenico Cerrini, (1609-1681).  Sibyl is holding a handful of dust.

The Satyricon was a collection of tales, the misadventures of Trimalchio, a one-time gladiator in the Roman Empire of the first century AD and the passage is one of the few fragments of the text still extant.  Sibyl of Cumae was one of the great beauties of the age and Apollo, wanting her for his own, offered to grant her any wish.  Without a moment’s thought she asked to “live for as many years as there were grains in a handful of dust.”  Apollo granted her wish, but she anyway refused his affections and she came to regret things, over the centuries growing older and more decrepit but unable to die.  What she had wanted was an eternal youth but instead decayed into a figure tiny, frail and confined to her bed.  When Trimalchio speaks of her in the Satyricon, he describes her as a tourist attraction, a withered, ancient relic, longing to die.  As recounted by the Roman Poet Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso; 43 BC–17 AD) in his Metamorphoses, Sibyl lived a thousand years and as she shrunk and shrivelled, eventually she was kept in an ampulla (jar); in her final years, only the faint echo of her voice remained.  She might have said, as the 99 year old Archbishop Daniel Mannix (1864–1963; Archbishop of Melbourne 1917-1963) grew fond of saying: “I have lived too long, but that is not my fault”.  That would have been half correct but, given Sibyl’s calling of prophesy, she had only herself to blame.

Apothaneintheloish appeared first in 1968 in an essay written by Anthony Burgess and published in The Listener:

“Waking crapulous and apothaneintheloish, as I do most mornings these days, I find a little loud British gramophone music over the bloody mary helps me adjust to the daily damnation of writing.”  It can be translated as: “Suffering from taking too much strong drink and feeling I want to die.”

Burgess had an extraordinary knowledge of words so probably felt entitled to kick language around a bit and it’s likely he’d not much have been concerned at any pedant drawing a red circle around the appended –ish, content the linguistic sin of mixing an English suffix into a otherwise Greek formation was minor compared with the world gaining a new adjective.  Such was the skill of Burgess that in his writing the rare and unusual words slurred effortlessly into the text, avoiding the tiresome, jarring effect achieved by some who seem intent to flaunt what Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his austere A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) called the “pride of knowledge”; Henry Fowler knew sin when he saw it on the page.  Others can do it too: the historian Piers Brendon (1940) made the discovery of novel forms a pleasure and when reading Umberto Eco’s (1932–2016) Il pendolo di Foucault (Foucault's Pendulum (1988)), some can’t resist keeping pencil & paper at hand, just to note down the most memorable.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

Burgess though probably made the trick most fun and without Burgess, would it have become known even slightly that vaccine can be an adjective?  It means “cow-like” so is a word for those who find bovine too repetitive or a bit common.  He also included gems like myrmidon (a faithful follower of someone or some institution who follows orders without demur), oneiric (of, suggestive of or pertaining to dreams), proleptic (the act of anticipation) and exiguity which should baffle most used to anything similar; it means “a tiny quantity” and was from the Latin exiguus (scanty), the antonym for which was the Pythonesque sounding adaequatus, the perfect passive participle of adaequō, the construct being ad- (near, at; towards, to) +‎ aequō (make equal, level or smooth).

Apothaneintheloish will of late have gained a new audience with the publication in January 2024 of The Devil Prefers Mozart, On Music and Musicians, 1962-1993, a compilation (Carcanet Press, edited by PaulPhillips (b 1956), an associate professor at Stanford University)) of Burgess’s (mostly) previously published pieces on the topic of music (something he grants and unexpectedly wide vista).  Although now remembered mostly as a novelist and literary critic, his attachment to music was life-long, reflected in the breadth of the 75 chapters of essays, reviews and letters plus the odd interview & transcription.  The book is divided into five parts (1) Musical Musings which ranges from thoughts on Shakespeare to the Beatlemania of the 1960s and the punk movement a decade later, (2) Composers and Their Music which is a list hardly less eclectic, including Monteverdi, Mozart, Wagner & Kurt Weill, (3) Burgess and His Music, a more personal assortment of material including some intriguing liner notes, (4) Performers and Performances which includes some interesting reflections on the less obvious aspects of affording a primacy to “the singer rather than the song” and (5) Of Opera, the West’s supreme art form.  Of particular interest to some will the focus on some of the now less than fashionable British composers, notably William Walton (1902–1983) and Edward Elgar (1857–1934).

Gerti Deutsch's (1908–1979) photograph of Hans Keller (1919-1855), London, 1961.  Keller was a noted Freudian and would these days be thought a suspected postmodernist.

It’s really not even necessary to have any great interest in music to be amused by this book because probably without the reader realizing it, what is so often being explored is the interplay between words and music, Burgess understanding “everything is text” even before the postmodernists made a cult of it.  It’s worth reading also for the waspish comments about the Austrian-born music journalist Hans Keller, best understood after listening to the composition Homage to Hans Keller (1982), written by Burgess in reaction to Keller’s review of his opera Blooms of Dublin (1982) based on James Joyce’s (1882–1941) Ulysses (1922).  Scored for four tubas (which should be a hint), the “homage” was very much in the spirit of Metal Machine Music which in 1975 Lou Reed (1942–2013) handed to his record company.  In that vein, an irony of his fame was that he became best known as the author of the novel A Clockwork Orange (1962) and that happened because of the notoriety achieved by the film version (1971), directed by Stanley Kubrick (1928–1999).

Cover of a first edition A Clockwork Orange (1962), signed by the author, (Aus$18,975.08 on eBay (left)) and a promotional poster for the film version (1971, right).  The film was based on the abridged US edition of the book which omitted the final chapter in which the protagonist undergoes something of a redemption.  That does change the moral effect but some critics thought the distinction slight, the film just too gratuitous in its depiction of sexual violence for the original's anyway ambiguous conclusion to be rendered much different. 

In Flame into Being (1985), his biography of DH Lawrence (1885–1930), Burgess would write: “The book I am best known for, or only known for, is a novel I am prepared to repudiate: written a quarter of a century ago, a jeu d’esprit (literally “game of the spirit” and used here to suggest something intended as a quick comment on an idea rather than anything substantial) knocked off for money in three weeks, it became known as the raw material for a film which seemed to glorify sex and violence. The film made it easy for readers of the book to misunderstand what it was about, and the misunderstanding will pursue me till I die. I should not have written the book because of this danger of misinterpretation, and the same may be said of Lawrence and Lady Chatterley’s Lover (1928).”  Scholars cataloguing his papers later found A Clockwork Orange was some two years in the making but that he didn’t deign even to mention the book by name was an indication of something and many suspect he’d have been not unhappy if remembered for the book and not the film which gained him a new audience, if not exactly the one he’d have preferred.  However, for those who like words, The Devil Prefers Mozart, On Music and Musicians contains enough expected Burgessian gems and like apothaneintheloish, there aren’t many other places to find multiguous, parthenogenetical, theodician, apodemoniosis, stichomythia or quinquennium.

Utopia & Dystopia

Utopia (pronounced yoo-toh-pee-uh)

(1) An imaginary island described in Sir Thomas More's Utopia, a place enjoying perfection in law, society and politics; such a place cannot exist.

(2) An ideal place or state of being.

(3) Any visionary system of political or social perfection.

(4) A popular product name in the illicit drug industry.

1516: From the New Latin utopia (literally "nowhere"), coined by Sir Thomas More (1478–1535) and used as title of his 1516 book about an imaginary island enjoying perfect legal, social, and political systems although the author’s meaning was rather more nuanced than that the casual use of “utopia” is used usually to convey.  The construct was the Ancient Greek οὐ (ou) (not) +‎ τόπος (topos) (place; region) + ia (from the Classical Latin ia and the Ancient Greek ία (ía) & εια (eia) which form abstract nouns of feminine gender).  The meaning was extended to "any perfect place" by the early seventeenth century.  Marx used the word in disparagement of the “…useless utopian myths…” he thought infected the schools of socialist too remote from political and economic reality.  The French form was utopie.  Utopia, utopographer, utopianizer, utopianization & utopianism are nouns, utopian & utopist are nouns & adjectives, utopianize is a verb, utopianistic is an adjective, utopianly is an adverb; the noun plural is utopias.

Dystopia (pronounced dis-toh-pee-uh)

(1) A society characterized by human misery, as squalor, oppression, disease, and overcrowding.

(2) Any imaginary place or state of being where everything is bad.

1868: A compound word dys + (u)topia, the word coined by the English philosopher John Stuart Mill (1806–1873) and its first public use was in one of his speeches delivered in the House of Commons.  The construct was the Ancient Greek δυσ (dus) (bad) + τόπος (tópos) (place; region) + ia (from the Classical Latin ia and the Ancient Greek ία (ía) & εια (eia) which form abstract nouns of feminine gender). It’s since usually been used in the sense of any bad place, real or imagined.  In popular culture, depictions of dystopia have tended to follow the concerns of the time; pandemics, nuclear war, alien invasion, dictatorial régimes and climate change.  The spelling distopia is erroneous but not uncommon.  Dystopia, dystopographer, dystopianizer, dystopianization & dystopianism are nouns, dystopian & dystopist are nouns & adjectives, dystopianize is a verb, dystopianistic is an adjective and dystopianly is an adverb; the noun plural is dystopias.  The constructs follow the model of those derived from utopia although in use, most are rare.

Urban future by noted practitioner of dystopian art, Polina Kulagina.  There is an entire genre of dystopian art and literature.

For something which More insisted can't exist, utopia has survived well and it's proved a popular building block.  A gaytopia is the sort of place (real or imagined) which is (for whatever reason) a paradise for the LGBTQQIAAOP community and the hetrotopia was apparently a right-wing reaction to that, the idea being a "gay-free" zone.  A pornotopia is a place (real or virtual) in which every form of pornography however depraved was available; it was a specialized form of an infotopia which was something like the original vision of some for the WorldWideWeb (WWW) back when Al Gore (b 1948; US vice president (VPOTUS) 1993-2001 & in 2000 the next president of the United States (NPOTUS)) called it the "information superhighway".  Apparently he invented the internet so it's reasonable he assumed naming rights.  Pornotopia was originally used to describe a imagined world where all were willing (even anxious) to engage in all forms of sexual activity while an intimatopia was a fantasy world serving as an ideal setting for sexually charged relationships involving a high degree of sustained emotional intimacy.  The romantopia was a world imagined by women as the ideal setting for romantic love (it has dismissively been called millsandboonatopia).  A cyberutopia is a kind of heaven for nerds, a place full of cables, computers, routers and coffee machines where Coca-Cola & pizza are free.  The technoutopia is much the same sort of place and one inhabited by technoutopians and technoutopists dedicated to the pursuit of technoutopism.  An autopia was envisaged as an urban landscape designed around the use of the automobile and it's long been used as a critique of certain cities of which Los Angeles is the best-known example although there are many cities where traffic management is far, far worse.  The negative forms can be a bit fuzzy (and remember More's Utopia was used as an internally negated concept).  Dystopia is well known but there is also unutopia & anti-utopia, all appearing to mean "the antithesis of utopia".  On the rare occasions anti-utopia & unutopia appear, it's advised to deconstruct the context.

The dystopian vision of Dante's Inferno: The Fifth Circle (1587) by Stradanus (1523-1605)), depicting Virgil and Dante on the River Styx in the fifth circle of Hell where the wrathful are for eternity condemned to splash around on the surface, fighting each other.  Dante Alighieri's (circa 1265–1321), Divine Comedy was written between 1307-1321 and helping the pair cross is the infernal ferryman Phlegyas.  Stradanus was one of the many names under which the Flemish artist Jan van der Straet painted, the others including Giovanni della Strada, Johannes della Strada, Giovanni Stradano, Johannes Stradano, Giovanni Stradanus, Johannes Stradanus, Jan van Straeten & Jan van Straten.

So influential has been Robert Bolt’s (1924–1995) play A Man for All Seasons (1960) in forming the public perception of Sir Thomas More that he seems now remembered as a kind of proto-liberal.  It is true he held opinions which would have been shared by few (lord) chancellors of the last 500-odd years including a condemnation of private property and the idea that the very structure of English society was a “conspiracy of the rich”.  Centuries before Karl Marx (1818-1883), he discussed the surplus value of labor and the mechanisms by which working people were alienated for this value so it could be absorbed by the already rich to add to their wealth.  So he ticks many boxes of wokeness but he also held views on women and their place that would make social media identity Andrew Tate (b 1986) follow his X (formerly known as Twitter) account.

More’s book Utopia is similarly misunderstood, the modern use of the word meaning many who have never read it merely assume what it means.  Structurally, it was influential because it contains threads identifiable as both science fiction (SF) and fantasy and in both these genres, authors have often described “utopias”, usually either as (1) places of unrestricted self-indulgence or (2) places in which everything is so antiseptically perfect that humans, with their inherent imperfections, just “don’t fit in”.  In these alternative universes, being fictional, something has to happen and what often occurs is that they turn into dystopias, the ultimately inadequate human inhabitants dealt with; that which doesn't "fit in" must be "thrown out".  More wasn’t quite so theatrical; his original title for the book was in Latin and is best translated as something like “the Best State of a Commonwealth on the New Island of Utopia” and, living in troubled times, his book explored ways society might be arranged in another way that would ensure the intrigue, corruption and scandal with which he was familiar might be avoided.  Unlike England with its then quite rigid hierarchical structure, Utopia was a communal venture and one in which forms of wealth existed but only as a means to ensure things run smoothly.  Not only was the quest to accumulate wealth not pursued, the very idea was absurd because it would fulfil no useful purpose.  Unfortunately, such is the nature of man that it seems such a place can never exist, or at least not long survive, thus the choice of the name Utopia (“nowhere” in the New Latin).

Limn

Limn (pronounced lim)

(1) To represent in drawing or painting; to delineate (rare except as literary device and also used figuratively).

(2) To portray in words; to describe (rare except as literary device).

(3) To illuminate (in the archaic sense) manuscripts; to decorate with gold or some other bright colour (obsolete except in historic references)

1400–1450: From the late Middle English limnen, limyne, lymm, lymn & lymne (to illuminate (a manuscript)), a variant of the Middle English luminen (to illuminate (a manuscript)), a short-form variant of enluminen or enlumine (to shed light upon, illuminate; to enlighten; to make bright or clear; to give colour to; to illuminate (a manuscript); to depict, describe; to adorn or embellish with figures of speech or poetry; to make famous, glorious, or illustrious), from the Old & Middle French enluminer (to illumine (a manuscript)), from the Latin illūminō (to brighten, light up; to adorn; to make conspicuous), the construct being il- (a variant of in- (the prefix used in the sense of “in, inside”)) + lūminō (to brighten, illuminate; to reveal), the construct being from lūmen (genitive luminis) (radiant energy; light; (and used poetically) brightness”) (from the primitive Indo-European lewk- (bright; to shine; to see)) + -ō (the suffix forming regular first-conjugation verbs).  The more familiar derived form in Latin was inlūmināre (to embellish; to brighten (literally “light up”), related obviously to related to lucere (to shine), the idea identifiable in the Modern English lustre.

Limn’s figurative sense of “portray, depict” which persists in literary and poetic use (some journalists also like the archaic flourish) was in use by the 1590s.  The derived forms include the verbs dislimn, dislimns, dislimning & dislimned (to remove the outlines of; to efface); enlimn enlimns, enlimning & enlimned) (to adorn (a book, manuscript etc) by illuminating or ornamenting with coloured and decorated letters and figures, the adjective unlimned (not limned or depicted), outlimn (to sketch out or delineate) and the noun limner (plural limners) (one who limns or portrays.  The use of limning as a noun described a depiction (the definitional boundaries of which shifted over the centuries).  The spelling limne was (obsolete) by the seventeenth century.  Limn & limned are verbs, limner is a noun & limming is a noun & verb; the two nouns plural are limners & limnings.

Two limnings in miniature from Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry. 

In the popular imagination, the illuminate manuscript is one where the art has a quality of vibrancy, the colors vivid, typified by Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry (The Very Rich Hours of the Duke of Berry) (1413-1416) by Dutch miniature painters, the brothers Herman, Paul, and Jean de Limbourg from the city of Nijmegen.  The volume is now in the collections of the Musée Condé in the Château de Chantilly, Chantilly, France.  January (left) and September (right) were two of a number of illustrations in a seasonal theme and as well as of interest to historians of art, the depictions have been used as documentary evidence of aspects of lifestyle as varied as the place of animals in society to the colors of garments.  In the tradition of the International Gothic of fourteenth & fifteenth centuries (the successor epoch to the High Gothic) the book is noted for its detail, refinement and use of gold leaf though quite how reliable as a historic record such documents are has been questioned; while not exactly the Instagram of the age, they were certainly idealized and produced for whomever it was prepared to pay for the commission.

Limnophile Lindsay Lohan lingers to look with longing at a lake's languid waters, Georgia Rule (2007).

Limno- is a word-forming element used in science in the sense of “of or pertaining to lakes and fresh water; the study of bodies of fresh water” and dates from 1892 when the name for the discipline appeared in scientific papers, the first to use the term apparently the Swiss geologist François-Alphonse Forel (1841-1912).  The related forms are limnological, limnetic, limnophile (there seem not to be any limnophobes), limnologist and the marvellous adjective limnophilous (loving or having an affinity towards lakes).  The noun limnology does not describe the study of illuminated manuscripts and despite the spelling is unrelated, the construct being limno-, from the Ancient Greek λίμνη (límnē) (pool of standing water, tidal pool, pond, marsh, lake," a word of uncertain origin but perhaps connected to the Latin limus (mud), from the primitive Indo-European root slei & lei- (slime), via the notion of “moistness, standing water), from or closely related to λιμήν (limḗn) (harbor) & λειμών (leimṓn) (moist place, meadow) +‎ -(o)logy.  The suffix -ology was formed from -o- (as an interconsonantal vowel) +‎ -logy.  The origin in English of the -logy suffix lies with loanwords from the Ancient Greek, usually via Latin and French, where the suffix (-λογία) is an integral part of the word loaned (eg astrology from astrologia) since the sixteenth century.  French picked up -logie from the Latin -logia, from the Ancient Greek -λογία (-logía).  Within Greek, the suffix is an -ία (-ía) abstract from λόγος (lógos) (account, explanation, narrative), and that a verbal noun from λέγω (légō) (I say, speak, converse, tell a story).  In English the suffix became extraordinarily productive, used notably to form names of sciences or disciplines of study, analogous to the names traditionally borrowed from the Latin (eg astrology from astrologia; geology from geologia) and by the late eighteenth century, the practice (despite the disapproval of the pedants) extended to terms with no connection to Greek or Latin such as those building on French or German bases (eg insectology (1766) after the French insectologie; terminology (1801) after the German Terminologie).  Within a few decades of the intrusion of modern languages, combinations emerged using English terms (eg undergroundology (1820); hatology (1837)).  In this evolution, the development may be though similar to the latter-day proliferation of “-isms” (fascism; feminism et al).

Two folio pages from Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry. 

Intriguingly different from most in the genre is the Black Hours Manuscript (known also as the Morgan Black Hours), created between 1460-1480 (some sources claim the final artwork was completed by 1475) in Bruges in what is now the Flemish Region of Belgium.  Created probably for a patron or member of the Burgundian Court, it’s now held in Manhattan’s Morgan Library and Museum.  What is most striking about the Black Hours is the extensive use of dark blueish hues as the predominant background shading.  Highly unusual in any artistic form in this era, the color occurs because of the extremely corrosive process used to dye the vellum with iron gall ink.  The black pages are a rarity (and at the time an expensive one) and the miniatures all use tones, the palette throughout very limited and restricted to blue, old rose, green, gray and white, with a few touches of gold, a radical departure from the usual splashes of yellow and scarlet, the margins decorated with blue borders, gold acanthus leaves and the expected drolleries.  So distinctive are the stylistic elements that historians of art continue to debate the influences on the creators and traces of its motifs appear often in modern graphic art.

Simony

Simony (pronounced sahy-muh-nee or sim-uh-nee)

(1) The making of profit out of sacred things.

(2) In Christianity, the practice, now usually regarded as a sin, of buying or selling spiritual or ecclesiastical benefits such as pardons, relics, benefices or preferments.

The buying or selling of spiritual or sacred things, such as ecclesiastical offices, pardons, or consecrated objects.

1175–1225: From the Middle English & the twelfth century Old French simonie (selling of church offices; the sin of buying or selling sacred things), from the Late Latin simōnia (from Simon Magus (Σίμων ὁ μάγος in Greek, Simon Magvs in Latin), the Samaritan sorcerer (magician) who was rebuked by Peter when he tried to buy the power of conferring the Holy Spirit (Acts 8:9-24)).  The nouns simoniak & simoner (the alternative spelling was simonier) (one who practices simony) appear in documents around the turn of the fifteenth century but there’s no evidence the adverb simoniacally was in use before the mid-1700s.  Simony, simonist, simoner & simonism are nouns, simoniac is a noun & adjective, simonient is an adjective and simoniacally is an adverb; the noun plural is simonies.

Acts 8:9-24: Origin of the Church’s ban on outsourcing.

18: And when Simon saw that through laying on of the apostles' hands the Holy Ghost was given, he offered them money.

19: Saying, give me also this power, that on whomsoever I lay hands, he may receive the Holy Ghost.

20: But Peter said unto him, thy money perish with thee, because thou hast thought that the gift of God may be purchased with money.

Simon Magus, known also as Simon the Sorcerer, was one of many magicians and, with competition fierce in a crowded market, he sought to increase his stock of magic tricks, gaining thereby a comparative advantage.  What he really wanted was to be thought of as one who, by laying on of hands, could make people feel filled with the Holy Spirit (the presence of the Lord), then a desired thing.

Saint Peter to Simon the Sorcerer: "Just don't do it; just say no."

When Simon Magus saw Peter and John deliver the presence by the laying of their on baptized believers, he offered money if they would confer on him the same power.  The pious pair were aghast at the idea one could buy the gift of God and urged Simon to repent so God might forgive him.  Hearing these words made Simon fearful and he pleaded with them to pray that nothing bad would befall him.  Whether Simon was truly repentant is never made clear although he did not immediately die so God did not at once smite him in his wrath.  Others were not so fortunate but Simon was the first heretic named in the New Testament and ever since, the Church has insisted on its monopoly in matters spiritual.  However, later popes, bishops and other clergy, while noting the the ruling of Peter & John as conferring on them exclusivity of supply in such matters, their interpretation didn't extend to banning profit from the business, something which would come to have profound consequences for Church and state. 

Compared with the unfortunate Ananias and Sapphira, Simon got off lightly.  In the Book of Acts (4:32), it’s recorded the early Christian disciples did not think of their possessions as their own but as the property of the collective to be used in the name of the Lord (not now a popular piece of scripture among the more materialist Christians).  Were money received by one, it belonged to all the apostles and were one to be found cheating, there were consequences and of course there had to be because, theologically, not only was the miscreant cheating others in the clergy, they were stealing from God Himself.  In Acts (5:1-11), it’s recounted that Ananias and his wife Sapphira sold their land but, when handing the proceeds to Peter, Anania kept some of the money for himself (the modern term in the study of governance & corruption in the distribution of foreign aid would be "siphoning").

5 But a certain man named Ananias, with Sapphira his wife, sold a possession,

2 And kept back part of the price, his wife also being privy to it, and brought a certain part, and laid it at the apostles' feet.

3 But Peter said, Ananias, why hath Satan filled thine heart to lie to the Holy Ghost, and to keep back part of the price of the land?

4 Whiles it remained, was it not thine own? and after it was sold, was it not in thine own power? why hast thou conceived this thing in thine heart? thou hast not lied unto men, but unto God.

5 And Ananias hearing these words fell down, and gave up the ghost: and great fear came on all them that heard these things.

6 And the young men arose, wound him up, and carried him out, and buried him.

7 And it was about the space of three hours after, when his wife, not knowing what was done, came in.

8 And Peter answered unto her, Tell me whether ye sold the land for so much? And she said, Yea, for so much.

9 Then Peter said unto her, How is it that ye have agreed together to tempt the Spirit of the Lord? behold, the feet of them which have buried thy husband are at the door, and shall carry thee out.

10 Then fell she down straightway at his feet, and yielded up the ghost: and the young men came in, and found her dead, and, carrying her forth, buried her by her husband.

11 And great fear came upon all the church, and upon as many as heard these things.

A salutary warning then, rather untypical of the New Testament, something more in the spirit of the vengeful God of the Old and it remains one of the passages in scripture most of modern Christianity prefers to ignore.  The endorsement of the death penalty often attracts little criticism but the notion of sharing with others one’s capital gains from the real-estate market would likely have little appeal to the many in evangelical congregations, although, given the corporate structure, the richer of the clergy might see some attraction.

The story has long been a struggle for theologians.  Although a injunction against lying is not one of the ten commandments (although it seems implied in (8) You shall not steal & (9) You shall not bear false witness), it wasn't explicitly prohibited although Ananias and Sapphira were struck dead simply for conspiring to lie; that would seem unfair for on the night Christ was tried, Peter himself lied three times yet was not thrice struck dead and anyway, as Peter acknowledged, they were under no obligation to donate the money.  It might then seem difficult to see just what was the sin so heinous that both deserved to die but theologians most often hint at something Aristotle might have called honor, what the social media marketing experts might call the quality of authenticity.  The transgression of Ananias and Sapphira was seeking the honor of their community in a manner dishonorable, shaming themselves as mere counterfeits; phoneys.  It was not the money which mattered, it was the fake news and, as Peter said, that news came from Satan for Satan had filled (to “the brim” in some translations) the heart of Ananias.  So, it's no great theological leap to see in their conduct as transgressions of (8) You shall not steal and (2) You shall not make any idols to worship (in that money had become an object of veneration).

La Mort de Saphire (The Death of Sapphira (1652)), oil on canvas by Nicolas Poussin (1594–1665).

People lie all the time and God does not smite them in his wrath but while all men might be equal before God, not all communities are equal.  When people lie to others in their community they are lying to others, to themselves and before God; it is a sin and one day they shall be judged.  But among the disciples of Christ himself, there can be no lies for to lie there is to lie about the work of the Holy Spirit and to speak that lie to God.  There can be only one consequence and that must be death.  It's a warning to those with the conceit to seek pre-eminence among the people of God, careerists seeking recognition, influence and power in God’s Church which is wrong for it is God alone who takes us into His Church (John 6:44, 65) and Him alone who elevates and ordains individuals to offices within (1 Corinthians 12:18, 28; Ephesians 4:11); as in all things, "the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; Blessed be the name of the Lord" (Job 1:21).  The vainglory of the self-aggrandizement of Ananias and Sapphira was the work of the mind and nature of Satan (Isaiah 14:13-14; Ezekiel 28:17) and was what made the couple willing instruments in the execution of his purposes.  Structuralists draw from the story a lesson about the authority of the hierarchical clergy and the nature of the institution of the Church.  Theologians writing their apologia (which seem always emphasise that Peter must be absolved of any responsibility) conclude the message is in everything we do we must love our neighbors as ourselves and seek not to accrue wealth, status and power.

In the early medieval church the legal position was unambiguous so the spirit was strong, even if the flesh of priests was sometimes weak, accusations of simony not uncommon, something encouraged presumably by the increasingly obvious wealth of not a few clergy.  In reaction, canon law banned what had become revenue streams derived from the supply of what had once been simple orders of service performed for events such as blessings or baptism.  Over the years many canons and edicts reinforced the sanctions, something necessitated by priests being good “black letter law” practitioners, eager to spot loopholes and eyes of needles through which money could pass.  Even papal bulls addressed the matter though it was a time of low literacy and distant channels of communications, things which helped imaginative priests hone their business model.  Famously, Gregory I (circa 540–604; usually styled Saint Gregory the Great, pope 590-604) condemned such transactions as “a simoniac heresy” but the problem was not the state of law but the efficiency of its enforcement, a familiar complaint in the modern secular world.

Despite it all, by the ninth and tenth centuries, simony had become so entrenched in the ecclesiastical structure that the very economy of the Church may have been dependent on the practices and in the eyes of the population, presumably was an accepted part of theology.  The more austere canon lawyers however found it disturbing and by the eleventh century, one of the debates between them concerned the issue of whether a priest who had gained his office by a simonical transaction (ie purchased it from a bishop) could be said to be validly ordained and this was not merely a tiresome technical point argued between lawyers: if an ordination was invalid, did this invalidate the legal effect of the rituals he’d since performed?  If so, were some marriages null & void, couples living in sin and unknowingly producing illegitimate children?  Were their baptisms valid or were there many unbaptised heathens?  That was bad enough but if so, would those who had died (and there would have been many), on that basis be sent not to Heaven but instead burn in Hell (discussions of some less unpleasant alternatives such as Limbo were not then well advanced)?

It was during the pontificate of Gregory IX (circa 1150-1241; pope 1227-1241) the sanctions were codified and it was done with a legal sledgehammer.  In issuing the Corpus Juris Canonici (literally “Body of Canon Law”) in 1234, Gregory provided the document which would provide the framework for the Church’s canon law for over 700 years and although subject to frequent refinement, it would not be replaced until 1917.  As a part of this, the matter of simony was dealt with in what might now be called “an omnibus provision”, the definitional basis for the offence so wide that just about any transaction “involving consideration” (ie money or some other benefit) might be caught in its net.

Canto XVIII, part of the eighth circle of Hell, in Divine Comedy (circa 1494), illustrated by Sandro Botticelli (Alessandro di Mariano di Vanni Filipepi; circa 1445–1510).

It’s said to have had a great reforming influence but of course the problem shifted shape rather than going away and in the fourteenth century, Dante Alighieri (circa 1265–1321) in Divina Commedia (Divine Comedy (circa 1310-1321)) detailed (not without glee) the fate of avaricious simoniacs including “clergymen, and popes and cardinals” who, dammed for “fraud” would be cast into the eighth circle of Hell, a hot, fiery place where they’d have ended up trapped for eternity in a flaming tomb, the frequent punishments including being whipped by demons, immersed in excrement and transformed into reptiles:

Rapacious ones, who take the things of God,
that ought to be the brides of Righteousness,
and make them fornicate for gold and silver!
The time has come to let the trumpet sound
for you;

Ever if not scared of lawyers, from the most humble monk to the pope himself, priests were scared of going to Hell so Dante’s words may have had some effect, even though he wrote in common Italian rather than Latin.  The lure of money though proved strong and although the sale of “indulgences” (essentially God’s forgiveness, often in bulk) was not the sole inspiration for the movement which led to the sixteenth century Protestant Reformation, it was probably the most celebrated and an indication of the way corruption tends to be hydra-headed, difficult to suppress and probably impossible to eradicate.  Still, it was the framework of canon law which provided the basis for the structures the Church of England would adopt to stamp out simony and it’s not hard to see traces of it in many of the anti-corruption statutes and institutions which exist today in many Western states.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

Hermeneutic

Hermeneutic (pronounced hur-muh-noo-tik or hur-muh-nyoo-tik)

(1) Of or relating to hermeneutics; interpretative; explanatory.

(2) That which explains, interprets, illustrates or elucidates.

(3) In theology, of or relating to the interpretation of Scripture (technically when using or relating to hermeneutics but sometimes used more loosely)

1670s: From the Ancient Greek ἑρμηνευτικός (hermēneutikós) (of, skilled in, interpreting), the construct being hermēneú(ein) (to make clear, interpret (derivative of ἑρμηνεύς (hermēneús) (an interpreter) + -tikos (–tic).  The –tikos suffix was commonly used to form adjectives.  The Greek τικός (-tikos) was derived from the noun τι (-tis) (“one who does” or “related to”).  Typically, when –tikos was appended to a word, it conveyed the sense of “being related to, characterized by, or pertaining to the base word”.  It was used also (n various contexts) to create adjectives that describe qualities or characteristics associated with the base word.  The form in French was herméneutique.  Hermeneutic is a noun & adjective, hermeneuticist & hermeneut are nouns, hermeneutical is an adjective, hermeneutically is an adverb; the noun plural is hermeneutics.

Hermeneutics is now an overarching technical term which can (despite the disapproval of some) be used to describe all or some of the theories and practices of interpretation.  The word started life in academic theology and referred to the interpretation of scripture and biblical scholarship generally but by the early eighteenth century it was used also of the analysis of literature and philosophical texts.  Hermeneutics thus began as a practice which evolved into a formal discipline, the parameters of which have changed as needs arose and can now encompass any aspect of deconstruction, understanding or transmission.  Still most associated by some with scriptural interpretation (with all the controversy that implies), in modern use, hermeneutics is applied to law, philosophy, history or any field in which information is contained in texts (and as the post-modernists told us, “text” exists in many forms beyond the written or spoken word).

Despite the impression given by some sources, the terms hermeneutics and exegesis (from the Ancient Greek ἐξήγησις (exḗgēsis) (interpretation), from ἐξηγέομαι (exēgéomai) (I explain, interpret), the construct being ἐξ (ex-) (out) + ἡγέομαι (hēgéomai) (I lead, guide)) tend not to be used interchangeably, probably because both are elements in the jargon of specialists who field them with the necessary precision.  Both are approaches to the interpretation of texts but they have distinct focuses and differing methods of operation.  Exegesis describes a critical analysis of a text, the purpose being to understand its meaning, the primary focus being the extraction of the original or intended meaning, the historical and cultural context thus a tool of exegesis, undertaken often by the interplay of linguistic analysis and historical research.  Hermeneutics (at least in modern use) casts a wider vista although it too is a discipline built around a theory of interpretation which encompasses a range of principles which can be applied to texts, symbols and any means of communication.  The essence of hermeneutics is that as well as an understanding of original meanings in the context of the time, place and circumstances of their origin, there's also the ongoing process of interpretation which can consider not only previous research but also an understanding of the way interpretation is (and has historically been) influenced by the relationship between the interpreter and the text; the effect of an interpreter's biases (conscious and not), history and culture.  Implicit is this is the need to deconstruct the biases and assumptions inherent in language.  Given all that, although the purists might not approve, the techniques and tools of exegesis can be thought of as a sub-set of those of hermeneutics.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

The source of the word "hermeneutics" was once tangled up with a folk etymology which attributed a link to Hermes, in Greek mythology the son of Zeus and Maia.  Hermes had a troubled and eventful past which included the theft of livestock from the herd of Admetus which grazed in the (admittedly neglectful) care of his brother Apollo and the invention of the lyre which he fashioned from the shell of a tortoise with strings made from the gut of the unfortunate pair of the cattle he’d earlier sacrificed to the twelve gods.  A bit of a hustler, through a complicated series of trades and negotiations, Hermes emerged with the gift to prophesize the future and assumed the role of psychopomp (from the Latin psȳchopompus, from the Ancient Greek ψῡχοπομπός (psūkhopompós or psȳchopompós) (conductor (guide) of souls), the construct being ψῡχή (psūkhḗ) (the soul, mind, spirit) + πομπός (pompós) (guide, conductor, escort, messenger).  It was the psychopomp who was given the task of escorting the souls of the dead to Hades, the psychopomp most familiar in popular culture being the grim reaper.  It’s not clear which of these many qualities and skills have over the last two centuries so appealed to the admirals of the Royal Navy that they chose HMS Hermes as the name of a dozen-odd warships, the Admiralty website blandly noting his role as divine messenger.  That was certainly what gave rise to the old story (which for years appeared in many dictionaries) of Hermes being the etymological source of “hermeneutic”, based on his role in interpreting divine will: Nephele, Amphion, Heracles, Perseus and Odysseus all benefiting from his skills.  Lending credence to that was the observation of more than one of the philosophers of Antiquity that interpretation of text matters because the same collection of words can be used to spread lies as well as truth so the task of Hermes was an important one although, being Hermes, in some of the myths its recounted how he wasn’t above “bending interpretations” to suit his own purposes.

Hermes, Aglauros & Herse in the chamber of Herse (1573), oil on canvas by Paolo Caliari (1528–1588).  The winged staff held by Hermes was the symbol of his position as divine messenger and Caliari depicts the scene in which Hermes has come to seduce the Athenian princess Herse.  Her sister Aglauros (a jealous type), attempts to prevent him entering her chamber but with a touch of his staff he will transform her into black stone and take what he wants.  Herse is shown apparently sanguine about her sister's sad fate; perhaps it was a difficult family.  It's a rarely painted subject and is from the epic-length Metamorphoses, by the Roman Poet Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso; 43 BC–17 AD)

The connection with the sometimes dastardly Hermes is obviously an attractive tale but etymologists have concluded the true origin of "hermeneutic" lies in forms related to the Ancient Greek ἑρμηνεύω (hermēneuō) (translate, interpret), from ἑρμηνεύς (hermeneus) (translator, interpreter), of uncertain origin.  As ἑρμηνεία (hermeneia) (interpretation, explanation), it appears in the works of Aristotle (384-322 BC) which are among the oldest surviving philosophical texts in which appears the origins of textual analysis and the theoretical underpinning of the relationship between language and logic.