Deodand

Deodand (pronounced dee-uh-dand)

(1) In English law (prior to 1846), an animal or a personal chattel (the scope later extended) that, having been the immediate, accidental cause of the death of a human being, was forfeited to the Crown to be sold with the money gained applied originally to pious uses.

(2) In English law (prior to 1846), A fine paid to the Crown, equal to the value of a deodand, paid by the owner of the object and subsequently applied originally to pious uses.

1520–1530: From the late thirteenth century Anglo-French deodande, from the Medieval Latin deōdandum (a thing) to be given to God, the construct being the Classical Latin deō (to God (dative singular of deus (god)) + dand(um) to be given (neuter gerund of “dare to give”) from the primitive Indo-European root do- (to give).  Deus was from the primitive Indo-European root dyeu- (to shine and (in derivatives” “sky, heaven, god”).  Deodand is a noun; the noun plural is deodands.

That the doctrine of deodand was a medieval legal relic (the earliest recorded instances of use in England dating from the eleventh century) is not that remarkable because in that it was one of a number; what’s remarkable is it remained part of the common law until the mid-1800s.  The concept was first well documented in thirteenth century legal texts and historians have concluded this “semi-codification” reflected the earlier religious tradition which held an object which caused a death was “tainted” and should be removed from profane use.  In that, it inherited older notion from Roman civil law of noxae deditio (literally “surrender for the wrongdoing” and in English law written usually as “noxal surrender”), the construct being noxae (harm, injury, wrongdoing) + deditio (surrender, giving up).  Noxae deditio was a legal mechanism (in response to what would now be called a writ) with which the owner of an animal or slave (The Romans really did make a distinction) could avoid liability for delicts (wrongs) committed by them by surrendering the animal or slave to the injured party as an alternative to paying damages.  Intriguingly, at certain times, the doctrine was extended to sons (though apparently not daughters) in circumstances where an action was brought against a paterfamilias (the head of a household), on the basis he was held to be responsible for the son’s acts.  Literally, the son could be “handed over”, either until they attained statutory adulthood or for a specified period, depending on the damages assessed.  A similar idea was the Old English wergeld, from the Proto-West Germanic werageld, the construct being wer (man) +‎ ġield (payment).  It was a form of compensation paid by a transgressor to a victim, or (as “blood money) to the victim's family if the victim were dead (the quantum decided by social rank).  The concept is familiar in many societies and is sometimes formalized in Islamic systems using the Sharia Law where the victim’s family can be involved in determining not only how much blood money should be paid but also whether there should be a payment as an alternative to a death sentence.

What evolved in English common law was the rule under which, if a person was killed by an animal, vehicle, tool or other inanimate object, that object was declared a “deodand” to be forfeited to the Crown.  Reflecting the theological basis for this, notionally the surrender was “to God”, but quickly the standard practice became to appraise the value of the beast or object and levy a fine in that sum.  Although the documentary evidence is patchy, it appears originally the forfeited property (or cash from the fine) was devoted to pious uses such as alms (ie charity for the poor) or (as was the usual trend when a revenue stream was identified) ecclesiastical purposes such as building churches or stained glass windows.  Later (another trend being squabbles between church & state), deodans became a source of consolidated royal revenue.  The rationale was partly religious (atonement), partly superstitious (removing the dangerous object), and partly fiscal (Crown revenue).

The school bus scene: In Mean Girls (2004), had Regina George (Rachel McAdams (b 1978)) been killed by the school bus, the vehicle would have been declared a deodand and forfeited to the state although the usual practice was for its value to be assessed and an order for a payment in that sum to be served on the owner.

It was a simple concept but because there was much variation in the circumstances in which a deodand could be declared, the case law reveals inconsistencies in the verdicts.  Were someone to be killed by being run over by a horse-drawn cart, depending on this and that, the deodand might be found to be the cart and horse, the cart or horse alone or even just the particular wheel which crushed the unfortunate deceased.  One of the reasons for the variance is that in many instances the matter was determined not by a judge or magistrate working from precedent but (at coroners’ inquests) by juries which would both define the deodand and assess its value.  Given that, on what appear to be similar facts (a sailor who drowned after being struck by a mast), the deodand might be found to be the whole vessel or merely the mast.  In such cases, the issue was which object (or part of an object) should be held to be the “guilty instrument” and that was a process not simple to define, things made more difficult still by the opinions of jury members being so diverse and prone to be influenced by the identity of both the victim(s) and the owner of the object(s).

Aftermath of the explosion of a locomotive’s steam boiler.  If reduced to scrap by the event in which someone died, the jury could assess the value of the object in its "pre-event" condition.

By the eighteenth century, deodands had become largely devices of reference in that actual confiscation of objects was rare with an assessment of their monetary value to set the fine to be paid the standard practice.  Lawyers, politicians and (especially) those in commerce were critical of the system as irrational and even then there were traces of what would evolve as the modern notions of negligence and responsibility; critiques of deodand came both from what would now be described as “the right” and “the left”.  Those who owned the objects which became lethal instruments argued it was unfair they be punished so severely for what were, however tragic, “mere accidents”, pointing out the system discouraged industrial enterprise while those advocating for victims pointed out it was the state which gained the proceeds of the fines while victims’ families (many of which had lost their sole breadwinner) gained nothing.  What finally brought about the end of deodand was it being overtaken by the industrial age in which deaths came routinely to occur in clusters.  It was the multiple fatalities in marine and train accidents (infamously the Hull Tragedy (1838) and the Sonning Cutting Disaster (1840)) which attracted press coverage and public debate; in each case a “certificate of deodand” was attached to the machinery and, given the cavalier attitude of railway operators towards safety, it was hardly surprising coroners’ juries had little hesitation in declaring a locomotive and its rolling-stock a deodand.  That was obviously an expensive threat to capitalism and the lobbying by these vested interest resulted in parliament abolishing deodands by the Deodands Act 1846 (9 & 10 Vict. c.62).

Tallahassee Democrat, 13 October 1991.

The Daytona Yellow 1969 Chevrolet Corvette ZL1 coupé is the rarest and most valuable C3 Corvette (1968-1982) made, the “other ZL1” a Monaco Orange Roadster having a less pure pedigree (although at auction in January 2023 it realized US$3.14 million.  The yellow ZL1 last changed hands in October 1991 when it was sold in a government forfeiture auction for US$300,000 (then a lot of money) after being seized by the DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency).

The Act however was part of a reform process and the early initiatives included the statutes which would by the mid twentieth century evolve into modern negligence and compensation law, the most significant of the early steps being the Fatal Accidents Act 1846 (Lord Campbell’s Act) which for the first time codified the idea of the “wrongful death claim” and permitted families to sue on this basis.  Although now largely forgotten, the 1846 act was a significant marker of the transition of English law from a medieval, semi-religious system of atonement to a modern, rationalized law of tort, product liability and compensation.

Echoes do however remain in certain legal doctrines of forfeiture (such as state seizures of the proceeds of crime) and the US practice of civil asset forfeiture does, at least in a philosophical sense, sometimes treat property as “guilty”.  The US law provides for property (cars, boats, money etc) connected with the commission of a crime to be seized by the state even if the owner, personally, wasn’t “guilty”; it’s a modern interpretation of the medieval view the object itself bore responsibility.  What this means is the legal rationale is structurally similar to what once was the religious justification: What once was “given to God” as expiation as atonement for sin translates now into deterrence as an expression of public policy (removing dangerous tools or preventing criminals from profiting).  As a kind of “legal fiction”, under both regimes the object is treated as if it possesses some kind of independent agency.  Intriguingly, as an administrative convenience, that idea survived in Admiralty Law under which vessels can in suits be “personified”, thus cases like “The SS <ship name> v. Cargo”, the model for civil asset forfeiture procedures in which the object is the defendant (such as “United States v. One 1969 Chevrolet Corvette”).

Building from Biblical tradition, the idea of independent agency had a curious history in the legal systems of Christendom and in Europe from the Middle Ages through the early modern period, animals could be put on trial (in both secular courts and ecclesiastical courts) for murder.  These trials followed legal procedures similar to those in which a human was the accused although, obviously, cross-examination was somewhat truncated.  The most commonly tried animals were pigs, simply because it wasn’t uncommon for them freely to roam in urban areas and attacks on babies and infants were frequent.  In Normandy in 1386, a sow was dressed in human clothing and publicly executed for killing a child while at Châlons in 1499, a sow and her six piglets were tried; the sow was executed for killing a man, while the piglets were acquitted due to “lack of evidence.”  Nor were the defendants exclusively porcine, bulls and horses occasionally executed for killing people and in ecclesiastical courts there are many records of rodents and insects being charged with damaging crops.  Presumably because every day of the week rodents and insects were killed just for “being guilty of being rodents and insects”, ceremonial executions wouldn’t have had much symbolic value so the usual result handed down was excommunication(!) or a demand (from God, as it were) the creatures vacate the fields in which they were consuming the crops.

Perpetually hungry weevils enjoying lunch in a granary.

Sometimes the ecclesiastical courts could be imaginative.  In the Italian region of Tyrol in 1713, the priests ordered the hungry weevils to leave the vineyards where they were such a plague but in compensation granted their occupation of a barren piece of land as an alternative habitat.  The reaction of the insects to the ruling would have been rather as King Cnut (better known as Canute, circa 990–1035; King of England 1016-1035) would have predicted but despite that, there’s no record of the weevils being held in contempt of court.  Regrettably, there's no generally accepted collective noun for weevils but weevilage (a portmanteau word, the blend being weevil + (vill)age) seems more compelling than Adelognatha (the scientific term referring to a group of Curculionidae (a family of weevils) characterized by a specific anatomical feature).  There was at least some theological basis for the ecclesiastical courts claiming entomological jurisdiction because in scripture it was written beasts are God’s creatures like all others and over them God granted dominion to man (Genesis 1:26-28 (King James Version of the Bible (KJV, 1611)):

26 And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.

27 So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.

28 And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.

Bovine trial in progress, rendered as a line drawing by Vovsoft.

The principle was animals could be held accountable for causing harm and this was taken especially seriously when the harm caused was something like that of a crime a human might commit (like murder) and in the secular courts, if the victim was someone of some importance, the proceedings could involve defense lawyers, witnesses, and formal sentencing.  In the ecclesiastical courts, it was more symbolic or ritualistic: insects and rodents might be “summoned” but of course they never turned up so excommunication or other curses were invoked.  By the eighteenth century, the thinkers of the Enlightenment had prevailed and the idea of animals as moral agents was so ridiculed the practice of charging them was almost wholly abandoned although in certain circumstances an owner could be held liable for the damage they caused.  There was though the odd, rural holdout.  In Normandy in 1845 a sow was executed for killing a child (in the legal archives listed as the last “classic pig trial” (the last in the US held in New Hampshire in 1819)) and in Switzerland in 1906 a dog was sentenced to death for a similar offence (this believed to be Europe’s last “animal trial”).

Peculiar

Peculiar (pronounced pi-kyool-yer)

(1) Something thought strange, queer, odd, eccentric, bizarre.

(2) Something uncommon or unusual.

(3) Distinctive in nature or character from others.

(4) Belonging characteristically to something.

(5) Belonging exclusively to some person, group, or thing.

(6) In astronomy, designating a star or galaxy with special properties that deviates from others of its spectral type or galaxy class.

(7) A property or privilege belonging exclusively or characteristically to a person.

(8) In the Church of England, a particular parish or church that is exempted from the jurisdiction of the ordinary or bishop in whose diocese it lies and is governed by another.

(9) In printing and typesetting, special characters not generally included in standard type fonts, as phonetic symbols, mathematical symbols etc (such as ±§¿).  Also called arbitraries.

1400-1450: From the late Middle English, from the Old French peculiaire and directly from the Latin pecūliāris (as one's own property), from pecūlium (private property (literally "property in cattle") a derivative of pecū (flock, farm animals) from pecus (cattle) (in Antiquity, the ownership of cattle was an important form of wealth).  The meaning “unusual” dates from circa 1600, a development of the earlier idiom “distinguished or special”.  The meaning "unusual, uncommon; odd" emerged by circa 1600, an evolution from the earlier "distinguished, special, particular, select" which was in use by at least the 1580s.  The euphemistic phrase "peculiar institution" (slavery; "peculiar" used here in the sense of "exclusive to the "slave states") dates from the 1830s when it was used in speeches by Southern politician John C Calhoun (1782-1850) and it was a standard part of the US political lexicon until abolition.  In ecclesiastical administration, peculiar was used in the sense of "distinct from the auspices of the diocese in which it's located".  Peculiar is a noun & adjective, peculiarize is a verb, peculiarity is a noun and peculiarly is an adverb; the noun plural is peculiars.

Photographers will use the natural environment to produce peculiar effects which can be striking: This is Lindsay Lohan straked by sunlight & shadow from a photo session by Ellen Von Unwerth (b 1954) for Vogue Italia, August 2010.  The caption “Ho fatto terribili sbagli dai quali però ho imparato molto.  Probabilmente per questo sono ancora viva” translates from the Italian as “I've made terrible mistakes, but I've learned a lot from them.  That's probably why I'm still alive.”

In the Church of England, a peculiar is an ecclesiastical district, parish, chapel or church which operates outside the jurisdiction of the bishop and archdeacon of the diocese in which they are situated. Most are Royal Peculiars subject to the direct jurisdiction of the monarch but some are those under another archbishop, bishop or dean.  The arrangement originated in Anglo-Saxon times and developed as a result of the relationship between the Norman and Plantagenet Kings and the English Church. King Henry VIII (1491–1547; King of England (and Ireland after 1541) 1509-1547) retained Royal Peculiars following the Reformation and the Ecclesiastical Licences Act (1533), as confirmed by the Act of Supremacy (1559), transferred to the sovereign the jurisdiction which previously been exercised by the pope.  Surprisingly, most peculiars survived the Reformation but, with the exception of Royal Peculiars, almost all were abolished during the nineteenth century by various acts of parliament.  Mostly harmless among Anglicans, the concept existed also in the Roman-Catholic Church where it caused a few difficulties, usually because of bolshie nuns in convents answerable to Rome and not the local bishop.  The bishops, used to obedience, even if grudging, enjoyed this not at all.

One archaic-sounding peculiarity in the sometimes intersecting world of geopolitics and diplomatic conventions is that on the Chrysanthemum Throne sits an emperor yet there is no Japanese empire.  Actually, despite the institution having a history stretching back millennia, no empires remain extant and some of the more recent (such as the Central African Empire (1976-1979)) have been dubious constructions.  Despite that, the Japanese head of state remains an emperor which seems strange but the reasons the title has endured are historical, linguistic & diplomatic.  The Japanese sovereign’s native title is 天皇 (Tennō (literally “Heavenly Sovereign” and best understood in the oft-used twentieth century phrase “Son of Heaven”).  When, in the mid 1800s, the Western powers first began their engagement with Japan, the diplomatic protocol specialists soon worked out there was in their languages no exact term which exactly encapsulated Tennō and because “king” historically was lower in status than “emperor”, that couldn’t be used because, the Japanese court regarding itself as equal to (in reality probably “superior to”) the ruling house in China, it would have implied a loss of face.  So, on the basis of the precedent of the Chinese 皇帝 (huángdì (Emperor), Tennō entered English (and other European languages) translated as “emperor”.  This solved most potential problems by placing the Japanese sovereign on the same level as the Chinese Emperor & Russian Tsar.

Cars of the Chrysanthemum Throne: Emperor Akihito (b 1933; Emperor of Japan 1989-2019) waving while leaving Tokyo's Imperial Palace in 2006 Toyota Century (left) and the 2019 Toyota Century four-door parade cabriolet (right).  Although in the West, Toyota in 1989 created the Lexus brand for the upper middle class (and hopefully above), the royal household has for years been supplied with Toyotas, some of them with bespoke coachwork and interior appointments although mechanical components come from the Toyota/Lexus parts bin.  The four-door cabriolet replaced a 1990 Rolls-Royce Corniche DHC (drophead coupé) which, having only two doors made less easy an elegant ingress or egress.

As things turned out, the linguistic pragmatism turned out to be predictive because during the Meiji period (1868-1912), Japan emerged as a modern imperial power, with colonies in Taiwan, Korea and other places.  After World War II (1939-1945), the empire was dissolved but the imperial institution was retained, a fudge the Allied powers tacitly had conceded as an alternative to insisting on the “unconditional surrender” the Potsdam Declaration (26 July, 1945) had demanded.  Tennō thus remained the head of state’s title and in English it has continued to be rendered as “Emperor”, a nod more to historical continuity than diplomatic courtesy.  In a practical sense, this represented no obvious challenge because being styled “The Emperor” was geographically vague, unlike the king in the UK who obviously ceased to be called “Emperor of India” after the Raj was dissolved with the granting of Indian independence in 1947.  The peculiar anomaly of an emperor without an empire remains peculiar to Japan.

Peculiar has a range of meanings.  One is the sense of something “uniquely peculiar to” meaning an attribute or something else shared with no other and sometimes things one thought peculiar to one thing or another are proved not so unique.  Saturn’s lovely rings were once thought peculiar to that planet but exploration and advances in observational technology meant that by the late twentieth century it could be revealed Jupiter, Uranus & Neptune all had ring systems, albeit more modest than those of Saturn but they were there.  Non-realistic art has often for its impact depended on a depiction of the peculiar: blue trees, flying dogs and green people once all enough to shock.  This too can change.  Once, a painting of a black swan would have seemed peculiar because, as the Roman saying went rara avis in terris nigroque simillima cygno (a bird as rare upon the earth as a black swan).  The accepted fact was that all swans were white.  However, late in the seventeenth century, Dutch explorers visiting what is now the coast of Western Australia became the first Europeans to see black swans and event subsequently picked up in philosophy as the “black swan moment”, referencing the implications of an accepted orthodoxy of impossibility being disproven, later developed into the “black swan logical fallacy” which became a term used when identifying falsification.

However, the two meanings can co-exist in the one sentence such as: (1) “Fortunately, the most peculiar of the styling motifs Plymouth used on the 1961 range remained peculiar to that single season” or (2) “On the basis of comments from experts in the linguistics community, Lindsay Lohan's peculiar new accent seems peculiar to her.”  In each case the first instance was used in the sense of “strange or weird” while the second suggested “uniqueness”.  Because in sentence construction, unless done for deliberate effect, there's some reluctance to repeat what may be called “noticeable words” (ie those which “stick out” because they’re rare or in some way unusual), writers can be tempted by the sin of what Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) called “elegant variation”.  Although willing to concede inelegance had its place as a literary or dramatic device (rather as a soprano with a lovely voice sometimes has to sing an aria which demands she sounds “ugly”), Henry Fowler preferred all sentences to be elegant.  Elegance however was a product and not a process, and he cautioned “young writers” (those older presumably written off as beyond redemption) against following what had become established as a “misleading rules of thumb”: Never to use the same word twice in a sentence or within 20 lines or other limit.”  His view was that if unavoidable, repetition, elegantly done was preferable to the obviously contrived used of synonyms such as (1) monarch, king, sovereign, ruler or (2) women, ladies, females, the variants there just to comply with a non-existent rule.  Predictably, the law was singled out as repeat offender, the use of “suits, actions & cases appearing in the one sentence to describe the same thing pointlessly clumsy in what was merely a list in which a repeated use of “cases” would had added clarity although that quality is not one always valued by lawyers.   

Peculiar in the sense of something bizarre: 1961 Plymouth Fury Convertible.  It must have seemed a good idea at the time and never has there been anything to suggest the stylists were under the influence of stimulants stronger than caffeine or nicotine.

Sometimes something thought peculiar can be described as “funny-peculiar” to distinguish it from something disturbing: peculiarities can be thought of as perversions.  In 1906, an embittered and vengeful Friedrich von Holstein (1837–1909; between 1876-1906, an éminence grise in the foreign office of the German Empire) sent a letter to the diplomat Prince “Phili” Phillip of Eulenburg (1847–1921), the man he blamed for ending of his long and influential career:

“My dear Phili – you needn’t take this beginning as a compliment since nowadays to call a man ‘Phili” means – well, nothing very flattering… I am now free to handle you as one handles such a contemptible person with your peculiarities.”

From this incendiary note ensued a series of legal proceedings exploring the allegations of “unnatural conduct” (homosexual activity) levelled against Prince Phillip, proceedings which involved a roll-call of characters, many with motives which went beyond their strict legal duty and a few with their own agendas.  The matter of Phili’s “peculiarities” was of real political (and potentially constitutional) significance, not merely because homosexuality was punishable under the criminal code (although the statute was rarely enforced) but because the prince had for decades been the closest friend of the German Emperor, Kaiser Wilhelm II (1859–1941; German Emperor & King of Prussia 1888-1918).  To this day, the exact nature of the relationship between the two remains uncertain.

Vulpine

Vulpine (pronounced vuhl-pahyn or vuhl-pin)

(1) Of or resembling a fox.

(2) Possessing or being thought to posses the characteristics often attributed to foxes ( crafty, clever, sly, cunning etc).

1620-1630: From the Latin vulpīnus (foxy, fox-like, of or pertaining to a fox), the construct being vulp(ēs) (fox) + -īnus.  Vulpēs was from the earlier volpes (genitive vulpis, volpis) of unknown origin, though though probably from the  primitive Indo-European wl(o)p and cognate with the Welsh llywarn (fox), the Classical Greek ἀλώπηξ (alṓpēx) (fox), the Armenian աղուէս (ałuēs), the Albanian dhelpër, the Lithuanian vilpišỹs (wildcat) and the Sanskrit लोपाश (lopāśa) (jackal, fox).  The Latin suffix -inus was from the Proto-Italic -īnos, from the primitive Indo-European -iHnos and cognate with the Ancient Greek -ινος (-inos) and the Proto-Germanic -īnaz.  It was used to indicate "of or pertaining to, usually a relationship of position, possession, or origin.  Vulpine is a noun & adjective, vulpinism & vulpinist are nouns and vulpinary is an adjective; the noun plural is vulpines.

The Holy Fox, Lord Halifax: The Right Honourable Edward Frederick Lindley Wood, First Earl of Halifax, KG, OM, GCSI, GCMG, GCIE, TD, PC, was a leading Tory (Conservative & Unionist Party) politician of the inter-war and war-time years; among other appointments, he was Viceroy of India, foreign secretary and ambassador to the United States.  He was known as the Holy Fox because of his devotion to church, the hunt and Tory politics though was more holy than foxy and perhaps too punctilious ever to be truly vulpine.  He was also born too late; had he lived a century earlier, he’d likely be remembered as an eminent statesman of the Victorian era but even before 1945, he seemed a relic of the bygone age.

A fox and other beasts: Count Galeazzo Ciano (1903–1944; Italian foreign minister 1936-1943, left), Lord Halifax (1881–1959; UK foreign secretary 1938-1940 centre left), Neville Chamberlain (1869–1940; UK prime minister 1937-1940, centre right) and Benito Mussolini (1883–1945; Duce & Italian prime minister 1922-1943, right), Rome, January 1939.

Some three months after signing the infamous Munich Agreement that rubber-stamped Adolf Hitler's (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) takeover of Czechoslovakia, Chamberlain and Halifax visited Rome to confer with Mussolini.  Although it had long been obvious the Duce had been drawn into the German orbit, British foreign policy was still based on the hope war could be avoided and, having seen appeasement prevent immediate conflict over Berlin's demands about Czechoslovakia, the hope was to find a way to appease Rome, the goal at the time little more ambitious than the maintenance of the status quo in the Mediterranean.  Pointless in retrospect, the meeting, held between 11-14 January 1939, was the last attempt through official channels to tempt the Duce away from the entanglement with Hitler to which, in reality, he was already committed although he certainly didn't expect war to be declared as soon as things transpired.The spirit of the meeting was well captured in Count Ciano's diary.  Ciano's entries are not wholly reliable but he was one of the century's great diarists, an astute observer and, too clever to be much bothered by principles, he painted vivid pictures of some of the great events of those troubled years.  Mussolini, flattered by Hitler and  already seeing himself as a Roman emperor, must have thought he was being visited by the ghosts of the past, Chamberlain looking like the provincial lord-mayor he'd once been and Halifax the archbishop he probably wished he'd become.

“In substance, the visit was kept on a minor tone, since both the Duce and myself are scarcely convinced of its utility. . . . How far apart we are from these people!" Ciano noted in his diary.  "It is another world."After dinner with Mussolini he recorded the Duce's feelings: "These men are not made of the same stuff as the Francis Drakes and the other magnificent adventurers who created the British Empire.  These, after all, are the tired sons of a long line of rich men, and they will lose their Empire,... The British do not want to fight. They try to draw back as slowly as possible, but they do not want to fight."  Whatever other mistakes he may have made, on that night in Rome, Mussolini made no error in his summary of the state of thought in Downing Street and the Foreign Office.  "Our conversations with the British have ended" Ciano concluded and "Nothing was accomplished."  He closed the diary that evening with the note "I have telephoned Ribbentrop (Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi Foreign Minister 1938-1945) that the visit was a big lemonade [ie a farce].”

Foxy Eyes by Skinklink.

In zoology, the family Canidae is divided into (1) Vulpini (foxes) and (2) Canini (wolves, dogs, coyotes, and jackals).  From these beasts comes the metaphorical use of “canine” and “vulpine”, both tending to be used of character traits rather than appearance.  In the metaphorical sense, “canine” is associated with qualities such as friendship loyalty, trustworthiness, dependability, devotion and loyalty, thus the phrase: “Dog is man’s best friend”, pointed variants appearing in quips from politicians such as Frederick II’s (Frederick the Great, 1712–1786, Prussian king 1740-1786): “The more I learn of the nature of man, the more I value the company of dogs” and Harry Truman’s (1884–1972; US president 1945-1953): “Want a friend in Washington? Get a dog”.  Jeff Kennett (b 1948; premier of the Australian state of Victoria 1992-1999) would late adapt that Truman doctrine and coined one to use in an internecine squabble, disparaging Peter Costello (b 1957; Treasurer of Australia, 1996-2007) for possessing “all the attributes of a dog - except loyalty”.  If “canine” brings to mind honestly and guilelessness, “vulpine” does not.  Because foxes stereotypically are though sly, clever and cunning, they’re regarded not as loyal companions but solitary creatures whose every calculation in life is one of shrewd self-interest, their folkloric reputation for deceit well-deserved.

Amanda Knox in court during her appeal against her conviction for murder, Perugia, Italy, September, 2011.

The terms (of both endearment and disparagement) “foxy” and “vulpine” can be used interchangeably but context must be studied to determine which meaning is being deployed.  A US citizen studying in Italy, Amanda Knox (b 1987) was twice wrongfully convicted of murder by Italian courts and, as a young, photogenic American accused of killing the young lady who was at the time her flat-mate, the trials received extensive international coverage.  It wasn’t long before the media were referring to Ms Knox as “Foxy Knoxy” and while many assumed that was typical tabloid journalism and a use of “foxy” in the sense of “sexy young woman” (perhaps with an overtone of “manipulative”), it was revealed to be her nickname on MySpace (an early social media site on which Rupert Murdoch (b 1931) would book a big loss), the moniker gained from the pace and agility she displayed in her youth on the soccer (football) pitch.  Of Ms Knox, the use of “foxy” can be debated but it would never be appropriate to speak of her as “vulpine”.

The dapper Franz von Papen during the first Nuremberg Trial.

Both however could be applied to Franz von Papen (1879-1969; German chancellor 1932 & vice chancellor 1933-1934) who appears in the history books described variously as “vulpine”, “foxy”, “the sly old fox” and “the old silver fox”.  No author has ever used these terms to suggest von Papen was “sexy” and the references are all to his cunning, slyness and extraordinary ability, over many decades, to extricate himself from situations where his prospects seemed dismal or doomed.  Few have ever quibbled over André François-Poncet (1887–1978; French ambassador to Germany 1931-1938) famous thumbnail sketch of von Papen: “There is something about Papen that prevents either his friends or his enemies from taking him entirely seriously” and the Frenchman was acknowledged a fair judge of politicians, even Hitler more than once admitting: “Poncet is the most intelligent of the diplomats I've known”, to which he’d sometimes pause to add (especially if anyone from the foreign office was in earshot): “…including the German ones.”  Most Germans were as sceptical as the ambassador.  General Kurt von Schleicher (1882–1934; German chancellor 1932) who was a confidant of Generalfeldmarschall Paul von Hindenburg (1847–1934; Reichspräsident (1925-1934) of Germany 1925-1934) schemed and plotted to have the dilettante von Papen appointed chancellor, believing his inexperience and known political ineptitude make him a malleable tool (others would later make the same mistake with Hitler).  When astonished associates protested: “Papen has no head for administration”, the General replied” “He doesn’t need a head, his job is to be a hat”.

Back-seat driver.

Then serving as vice-chancellor, von Papen sits behind Hitler during a parade, Berlin, May 1933.  The car is a Mercedes-Benz 770K (W07, 1930-1938) Cabriolet D.  Despite the "K" ("Kompressor" in the context of the 770s), not all W07 770Ks were supercharged but all those suppled to the Chancery had the Roots type "blower".  Big, heavy and with less than slippery aerodynamic qualities the 770K needed the power of its 7.7 litre (468 cubic inch) straight-8 but despite the mass, the updated 770K (W150, 1938-1943) could top 100 mph (160 km/h) on the long straights of the new Autobahns although such was the fuel consumption that even with its 195 litre (52 US gallon; 43 Imperial gallon) tank, when cruising at high speed, the time between "top-ups" could be brief.

Von Papen’s brief chancellorship went badly (later, narrowly he would avoid being murdered by the Nazis) but, foxy as ever, he remained a part of the Third Reich’s political and diplomatic establishment almost to the end.  One of the century’s great survivors, after being indicted for (Count 1) conspiracy to commit crimes against peace and (Count 2) waging aggressive war, he was acquitted by the IMT (International Military Tribunal) in the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946), a verdict which disappointed some but didn’t surprise those lawyers who’d found the conspiracy charge dubious in many aspects and thought the defendant too remote from the business of waging war.  He was subsequently convicted by a German de-Nazification court but his two years in captivity were not unpleasant, spent mostly in a hospital and, upon release, he resumed his robust good health.  Many of his more obviously credentialed contemporaries were either murdered by their “friends” or sent to the gallows by their opponents but the old fox lived to his ninetieth year, dying peacefully in his bed.

Lindsay Lohan’s “Fursona”, one of the Canine Cartel’s NFTs (non-fungible token).

Launched in August 2021 on Ethereum, the Canine Cartel NFT was a generative NFT collection launched in late August 2021 on Ethereum.  The collection included a reputed 10,000 unique (ERC‑721) canine characters, each with what was claimed to be “randomly generated traits” (subsequent analysis would correct that) inspired by ten dog breeds, the fictional back-story being of dogs which formed a “cartel” that emerged victorious over feline rivals in a stylized Sinaloa-inspired turf war.  As all know, cats are evil so the happy ending was good triumphed over evil.  There was a charitable element to the project, the first 10 ETH raised (some 10 % of mint revenue) pledged to dog shelters.  At the time, there was quite a buzz around EFTs and (with a mint price of 0.05 ETH per NFT) the drop apparently sold out quickly but like many EFT “bubbles”, expectations of profits were not realized by most speculators and recent floor prices have hovered around 0.0045 ETH on very low volumes.  The Canine Cartel model was a classic example of the promotional technique used when speculative interest in NFTs was high and was one common to many ventures, some of which by centuries pre-date the internet.

Carnival

Carnival (pronounced kahr-nuh-vuhl)

(1) A traveling amusement show, having sideshows, rides etc.

(2) Any merrymaking, revelry, or festival, as a program of sports or entertainment.

(3) In the Christian ecclesiastical calendar, the season immediately preceding Lent, often observed with merrymaking; Shrovetide.

(4) A festive occasion or period marked by merrymaking, processions etc and historically much associated with Roman Catholic countries in the period just before Lent.

(5) A sports meeting.

(6) In literary theory (as the noun carnivalization & verb carnivalize), to subvert (orthodox assumptions or literary styles) through humour and chaos.

(7) In sociology, a context in which transgression or inversion of the social order is given temporary license (an extension of the use in literary theory).

(8) Figuratively, a gaudily chaotic situation.

(9) As a modifier (often as “carnival atmosphere?”) a festive atmosphere.

1540–1550: From the Middle French carnaval, from the Italian carnevale, from the Old Italian carnelevare (taking meat away), from older Italian forms such as the Milanese carnelevale or Old Pisan carnelevare (to remove meat (literally “raising flesh”)) the construct built from the Latin caro (flesh (originally “a piece of flesh”)) from the primitive Indo-European root sker- (to cut) + levare (lighten, raise, remove), from the primitive Indo-European root legwh- (not heavy, having little weight).  Etymologists are divided on the original source of the term used by the Church, the alternatives being (1) carnem levare (to put away flesh), (2) carnem levāmen (meat dismissal), (3) carnuālia (meat-based country feast) and (4) carrus nāvālis (boat wagon; float).  What all agree upon is the ecclesiastical use would have come from one of the forms related to “meat” and the folk etymology favors the Medieval Latin carne vale (flesh, farewell!).  Spreading from the use in Christian feast days, by at least the 1590s it was used in the sense of “feasting or revelry in general” while the meaning “a circus or amusement fair” appears to be a 1920s adoption in US English.  The synonyms can include festival, celebration, festivity, fiesta, jubilee, gala, fete, fête, fest, fair, funfair, exhibit, exhibition, revelry, merriment, rejoicing, jamboree, merrymaking, mardi gras, jollity, revel, jollification, exposition and show.  Which is chosen will be dependent on region, context, history etc and (other than in ecclesiastical use) rules mostly don’t exist but there seem to be a convention that a “sporting carnival” is a less formal event (ie non-championship or lower level competitions).  The alternative spelling carnaval is obsolete.  Carnival & carnivalization are nouns, carnivalize, carnivalizing & carnivalized are verbs, and carnivalic, carnivalistic, carnivalesque, carnivallike, precarnival & noncarnival are adjectives; the noun plural is carnivals.

Not just meat: Francis (1936-2025; pope 2013-2025) on fasting for Lent.

Originally, a carnival was a feast observed by Christians before the Lenten fast began and wasn’t a prelude to a sort of proto-veganism.  It was a part of one of religion’s many dietary rules, one which required Christians to abstain from meat during Lent (particularly on Fridays and during certain fast days), carnival the last occasion on which meat was permissible before Easter.  The Christian practice of abstaining from meat evolved as part of a broader theology of penance, self-denial, and imitation of Christ’s suffering, the rationale combining biblical precedent, symbolic associations and early ascetic traditions, the core of the concept Christ’s 40 days of fasting in the wilderness (Matthew 4:1–11, Luke 4:1–13).  Theologically, the argument was that for one’s eternal soul to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, a price to be paid was Imitatio Christi (earthly participation in Christ’s suffering).  Much the early church valued suffering (for the congregants if not the clergy and nobility) and the notion remains an essential theme in some Christian traditions which can be summed up in the helpful advice: “For everything you do, there’s a price to be paid.”

Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) in 2016 on his private jet, fasting for Lent.

By voluntarily abstaining from certain foods, Christians imitated Christ’s self-denial and prepared spiritually for Easter: sharing in His suffering to grow in holiness.  Meat was seen a symbol of feasting and indulgence, an inheritance from Antiquity when “flesh of the beasts of the field” was associated with celebration rather than everyday subsistence, the latter something sustained typically by seafood, fruits and grains so voluntarily (albeit at the behest of the Church) choosing temporarily to renounce meat symbolized forgoing luxury and bodily pleasure, cultivating humility and penitence.  As well as the theological, there was also a quasi-medical aspect to what Tertullian (Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullianus, circa 155–circa 220) commended as “forsaking worldly indulgence” in that fasting took one’s thoughts away from earthly delights, allowing a focus on “prayer and spiritual discipline”, strengthening the soul against “sinful temptations”.  Another layer was added by the Patristics (from the Latin pater (father)), a school of thought which explored the writings and teachings of the early Church Fathers.  Although it was never a universal view in Patrology, there were those who saw in the eating of meat a connection to animal sacrifice and blood, forbidden in the Old Testament’s dietary laws and later spiritualized in Christianity, thus the idea of abstinence as a distancing from violence and sensuality.  Finally, there was the special significance of Fridays, which, as "Good Friday" reflected the remembrance of the crucifixion of Christ and his death at Calvary (Golgotha); the early Christians treated every Friday as a mini-fast and later this would be institutionalized as Lent.

Lindsay Lohan arriving at the Electric Daisy Carnival (left) and detail of the accessory worn on her right thigh (right), Memorial Coliseum, Los Angeles, June 2010.  The knee-high boots were not only stylish but also served to conceal the court-mandated SCRAM (Secure Continuous Remote Alcohol Monitor) bracelet.

The allowance of fish during Lent had both pragmatic and theological origins, its place in the Christian diet a brew of symbolism, biblical precedent and cultural context.  As a legal and linguistic point, in the Greco-Roman scheme of things fish was not thought “flesh meat” which was understood as coming from warm-blooded land animals and birds.  Fish, cold-blooded and aquatic, obviously were different and belonged to a separate category, one which Christianity inherited and an implication of the distinction was seafood being viewed as “everyday food” rather than an indulgent luxury.  This was a thing also of economics (and thus social class), the eating of fish much associated with the poorer coastal dwellers whereas meat was more often seen on urban tables.  Notably, there was also in this a technological imperative: in the pre-refrigeration age, in hot climates, often it wasn’t possible safely to transport seafood inland.  The Biblical symbolism included Christ feeding the multitudes with a few “loaves and fishes” (Matthew 14:13–21), several of the apostles were fishermen who Christ called upon to be “fishers of men” (Mark 1:16–18) and the ichthys (fish symbol) was adopted as early Christian emblem for Christ Himself.  Collectively, this made fish an acceptably modest food for a penitential season.  All that might have been thought justification enough but, typically, Medieval scholars couldn’t resist a bit of gloss and the Italian Dominican friar, philosopher & theologian Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) decided abstinence aimed to “curb the concupiscence of the flesh” and, because meat generated more “bodily heat” and pleasure than fish, it was forbidden while fish was not.  That wasn’t wholly speculative and reflected the humoral theory from Antiquity, still an orthodoxy during the Middle Ages: fish seen as lighter, cooler, and less sensual.

Notting Hill Carnival, London.

Traditionally, there was also a Lenten prohibition of dairy products and eggs, each proscription with its own historical and symbolic logic and the basis of Shrove Tuesday (Pancake Day) and Easter eggs (though not the definitely un-Christian Easter bunny).  The strictness derived partly from Jewish precedents notably the vegetarian edict in Daniel 10:2–3 and the idea of a “return to Edenic simplicity” where man would eat only plants (Genesis 1:29) but also an aversion to links with sexuality and fertility, eggs obviously connected with sexual reproduction and dairy with lactation.  What this meant was early Christian asceticism sought to curb bodily impulses and anything connected with fleshly generation and (even if indirectly), thoughts of sex.

Historically, a time of absolution when confessions were made in preparation for Lent, Shrovetide described the three days immediately preceding Lent (Shrove Sunday, Shrove Monday & Shrove Tuesday, preceding Ash Wednesday).  The construct being shrove +‎ -tide, the word was from the late Middle English shroftyde.  Shrove was the simple past of shrive, from the Middle English shryven, shriven & schrifen, from the Old English sċrīfan (to decree, pass judgement, prescribe; (of a priest) to prescribe penance or absolution), from the Proto-West Germanic skrīban, from the late Proto-Germanic skrībaną, a borrowing from the Latin scrībō (write).  The word may be compared with the West Frisian skriuwe (to write), the Low German schrieven (to write), the Dutch schrijven (to write), the German schreiben (to write), the Danish skrive (to write), the Swedish skriva (to write) and the Icelandic skrifa (to write).  The –tide suffix was from the Middle English –tide & -tyde, from the Old English -tīd (in compounds), from tīd (point or portion of time, due time, period, season; feast-day, canonical hour).  Before refrigeration, eggs and dairy naturally accumulated during springtime as hens resumed laying and animals produced more milk.  Being banned during Lent, stocks thus had to be consumed lest they be wasted so a pragmatic way to ensure economy of use was the pancake (made with butter, milk & eggs), served on the feast of Shrove Tuesday (Pancake Day).  Following Easter, when eggs returned to the acceptable list, “Easter eggs” were a natural festive marker of the fast’s end.

Carnival Adventure and Carnival Encounter off Australia’s eastern Queensland coast.

Although dubbed “floating Petri dishes” because of the high number of food poisoning & norovirus cases, cruise ships remain popular, largely because, on the basis of cost-breakdown, they offer value-for-money packages few land-based operators can match.  The infections are so numerous because (1) there are thousands of passengers & crew in a closed, crowded environment, (2) an extensive use of buffets and high-volume food service, (3) a frequent turnover of crew & passengers, (4) port visits to places with inconsistent sanitation, health & food safety standards and (5) sometimes delayed reporting and patient isolation.

However, although the popular conception of Medieval Western Christendom is of a dictatorial, priest-ridden culture, the Church was a political structure and it needed to be cognizant of practicalities and public opinion.  Even dictatorships can maintain their authority only with public consent (or at least acquiescence) and in many places the Church recognized burdensome rules could be counter-productive, onerous dietary restrictions resented especially by the majority engaged for their living in hard, manual labor.  Dispensations (formal exceptions) became common with bishops routinely relaxing the rules for the ill, those pregnant or nursing or workers performing physically demanding tasks.  As is a common pattern when rules selectively are eased, a more permissive environment was by the late Middle Ages fairly generalized (other than for those who chose to live by to monastic standards).

Carnival goers enjoying the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras: This is not what Medieval bishops would have associated with the word “carnival” but few events better capture the spirit of the phrase “carnival atmosphere”.

The growth of dispensations (especially in the form of “indulgences” which were a trigger for the Protestant Reformation) was such it occurred to the bishops they’d created a commodity and commodities can be sold.  This happened throughout Europe but, in France and Germany, the “system” became institutionalized, the faithful even able to pay “butter money” for the privilege of eating the stuff over Lent (a kind of inverted “fat tax”!) with the proceeds devoted to that favourite capital works programme of bishops & cardinals: big buildings.  The sixteenth century tower on Normandy’s Rouen Cathedral was nicknamed “Butter Tower” although the funds collected from the “tax” covered only part of the cost; apparently even the French didn’t eat enough butter.  As things turned out, rising prosperity and the population drifts towards towns and cities meant consumption of meat and other animal products increased, making restrictions harder to enforce and the Protestant reformers anyway rejected mandatory fasting rules, damning them as man-made (“Popery!” the most offensive way they could think to express that idea) rather than divine law.  Seeing the writing nailed to the door, one of the results of the Council of Trent (1545–1563) was that while the Church reaffirmed fasting, eggs and dairy mostly were allowed and the ban on meat was restricted to Fridays and certain fast days in the ecclesiastical calendar.

Archbishop Daniel Mannix in his library at Raheen, the Roman Catholic's Church's Episcopal Palace in Melbourne, 1917-1981.

By the twentieth century, it was clear the Holy See was fighting a losing battle and in February 1966, Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) promulgated Apostolic Constitution Paenitemini (best translated as “to be penitent”) making abstinence from meat on Fridays optional outside Lent and retained only Ash Wednesday and Good Friday as obligatory fast days for Catholics.  It was a retreat very much in the corrosive spirit of the Second Vatican Council (Vatican II, 1962-1965) and an indication the Church was descending to a kind of “mix & match” operation, people able to choose the bits they liked, discarding or ignoring anything tiresome or too onerous.  In truth, plenty of priests had been known on Fridays to sprinkle a few drops of holy water on their steak and declare “In the name of our Lord, you are now fish”.  That was fine for priests but for the faithful, dispensation was often the “luck of clerical draw”.  At a time in the late 1940s when there was a shortage of good quality fish in south-east Australia, Sir Norman Gilroy (1896–1977; Roman Catholic Archbishop of Sydney 1940-1971, appointed cardinal 1946) granted dispensation but the stern Dr Daniel Mannix (1864–1963; Roman Catholic Archbishop of Melbourne 1917-1963) refused so when two politicians from New South Wales (Ben Chifley (1885–1951; prime minister of Australia 1945-1949) and Fred Daly (1912–1995)) arrived in the parliamentary dining room for dinner, Chifley’s order was: “steaks for me and Daly, fish for the Mannix men.”

In the broad, a carnival was an occasion, event or season of revels, merrymaking, feasting and entertainments (the Spanish fiestas a classic example) although they could assume a political dimension, some carnivals staged to be symbolic of the disruption and subversion of authority.  The idea was a “turning upside down of the established hierarchical order” and names used included “the Feast of Fools”, “the Abbot of Misrule” and “the Boy Bishop”.  With a nod to this tradition, in literary theory, the concept of “carnivalization” was introduced by the Russian philosopher & literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin (1895–1975), the word appearing first in the chapter From the Prehistory of Novelistic Discourse (written in 1940) which appeared in his book The Dialogic Imagination: chronotope and heteroglossia (1975).  What carnivalization described was the penetration or incorporation of carnival into everyday life and its “shaping” effect on language and literature.

The Socratic dialogues (most associated with the writing of the Greek philosophers Xenophon (circa 430–355 BC) and Plato (circa 427-348 BC)) are regarded as early examples of a kind of carnivalization in that what appeared to be orthodox “logic” was “stood on its head” and shown to be illogical although Menippean satire (named after the third-century-BC Greek Cynic Menippus) is in the extent of its irreverence closer to the modern understanding which finds expression in personal satire, burlesque and parody.  Bakhtin’s theory suggested the element of carnival in literature is subversive in that it seeks to disrupts authority and introduce alternatives: a deliberate affront to the canonical thoughts of Renaissance culture.  In modern literary use the usual term is “carnivalesque”, referring to that which seeks to subvert (“liberate” sometimes the preferred word) assumptions or orthodoxies by the use of humor or some chaotic element.  This can be on a grand scale (ie an entire cultural movement) or as localized some malcontent disrupting their book club (usually polite affairs where novels are read and ladies sit around talking about their feelings).

Portrait of Leo Tolstoy (1887), oil on canvas by Ilya Repin (1844-1930), Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia.

He expanded on the theme in his book Problems of Dostoevsky's Poetics (1929) by contrasting the novels of Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910) and Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821–1881).  Tolstoy’s fiction he classified as a type of “monologic” in which all is subject to the author's controlling purpose and hand, whereas for Dostoevsky the text is “dialogic” or “polyphonic” with an array of different characters expressing a variety of independent views (not “controlled” the author) in order to represent the author's viewpoint.  Thus deconstructed, Bakhtin defined these views as “not only objects of the author's word, but subjects of their own directly significant word as well” and thus vested with their own dynamic, being a liberating influence which, as it were, “conceptualizes” reality, lending freedom to the individual character and subverting the type of “monologic” discourse characteristic of many nineteenth century authors (typified by Tolstoy).

Portrait of Fedor Dostoyevsky (1872), oil on canvas by Vasily Perov (1834-1882), Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia.

Dostoevsky’s story Bobok (1873) is cited as an exemplar of carnival.  It has characters with unusual freedom to speak because, being dead, they’re wholly disencumbered of natural laws, able to say what they wish and speak truth for fun.  However, Bakhtin did acknowledge this still is literature and didn’t claim a text could be an abstraction uncontrolled by the author (although such things certainly could be emulated): Dostoevsky (his hero) remained in control of his material because the author is the directing agent.  So, given subversion, literary and otherwise, clearly has a history dating back doubtlessly as many millennia as required to find an orthodoxy to subvert, why was the concept of carnivalization deemed a necessary addition to literary theory?  It went to the form of things, carnivalization able especially to subvert because it tended to be presented in ways less obviously threatening than might be typical of polemics or actual violence.