Purple

Purple (pronounced pur-puhl)

(1) Any color having components of both red and blue (often highly saturated), the darker the hue, the more likely to be described thus.

(2) In color theory, any non-spectral color on the line of purples on a color chromaticity diagram or a color wheel between violet and red.

(3) A dye or pigment producing such a colour

(4) Cloth or clothing of this hue, especially as formerly worn distinctively by persons of imperial, royal, or other high rank.

(5) In the Roman Catholic Church, a term at various times used to describe a monsignor, bishop or cardinal (or their office), now most associated with the rank, office or authority of a cardinal.

(6) Imperial, regal, or princely in rank or position.

(7) Any of several nymphalid butterflies including the red-spotted purple and the banded purple)

(8) Of or pertaining to the color purple (or certain things regarded as purple).

(9) In writing, showy or overwrought; exaggerated use of literary devices and effects; marked by excessively ornate rhetoric (purpureal).

(10) In language, profane or shocking; swearing.

(11) In modern politics, relating to or noting political or ideological diversity (in the US based on the blending of Democrat (blue) and Republican (red); in other places red & blue indicate different places on the political spectrum).

(12) In drug slang; the purple haze cultivar of cannabis in the kush family, either pure or mixed with others, or by extension any variety of smoked marijuana (“purple haze” a popular name for commercially available weed in those places where such thing are lawful.  Purple haze was originally slang for LSD.

(13) In agriculture, earcockle, a disease of wheat.

(14) To make or become purple (or, in ecclesiastical use, to put on one’s purple vestments) .

Pre 1000: From the Middle English noun and adjective purple, purpel & purpur, from Old English purpuren & purpul, a dissimilation (first recorded in Northumbrian, in the Lindisfarne gospel) of purpure (purple dye, a purple garment), from the adjective purpuren (purple; dyed or colored purple), from purpura (a kind of shellfish, Any of various species of molluscs from which Tyrian purple dye was obtained, especially the common dog whelk; the dye; cloth so dyed; splendid attire generally), from the Ancient Greek πορφύρα (porphýra or porphura) (the purple fish (Murex)), perhaps of Semitic origin.  Purpur continued as a parallel form until the fifteenth century and was maintained in the rules of heraldry until well into the nineteenth.  The verb purple (to tinge or stain with purple) was from the noun and emerged circa 1400.  The earlier form was purpured, a past-participle adjective.  The adjective purplish (somewhat purple, tending to purple) was from the noun and dates from the 1560s.  Purple is a noun, verb & adjective, purpled & purpling are verbs, purplish, purpler, purply & purplest are adjectives and purpleness is a noun; the noun plural is purples.

The rhetorical use in reference to “the splendid; the gaudy” began as a description of garments (classically imperial regalia) and since the mid-eighteenth century, as “purple prose” of writing.  In US political discourse and commentary, purple has since been used (often in graphical or cartographic form) to indicating the sectional or geographical spaces in which the increasing division of the country into red (Republican) and blue (Democratic) was less apparent.  That this came into widespread use only by around 2004 is because the use of red & blue by the US news media became (more or less) standardized only by the 1990s, use have begun circa 1980, something without any relationship to the linking of the colors (red=left; blue=right) traditional in other parts of the English-speaking world.  One curiosity is the shade of purple known as magenta: It was so called because the dye of theat shade was created at the time of the Battle of Magenta (1559) in which the French and Sardinians defeated the Austrians.  Purple is widely used in zoology and botany to create common names of species to some extent colored purple.

Purple patch: 1970 Dodge Challenger (440 Six-Pack) in Plum Crazy (left) and 1971 Plymouth Hemi ‘Cuda in In Violet) (clone; right).  Chrysler had some history in the coining of fanciful names for colors dating from the psychedelic era of the late 1960s when the choices included Plum Crazy, In-Violet, Tor Red, Sub Lime, Sassy Grass, Panther Pink, Moulin Rouge, Top Banana, Lemon Twist & Citron Yella.  Although it may be an industry myth, the story told was that Plum Crazy & In-Violet (lurid shades of purple) were late additions because the killjoy board refused to sign-off on Statutory Grape.  The lurid colors soon disappeared, not only because fashions change but because at the time they depended on the use of lead which was banned from paint in the early 1970s.  Not until the early twenty-first century did manufacturers perfect ways economically to replicate the earlier colors without using lead. 

In idiomatic use, purple is popular.  One “born into the purple” was literally one of royal or exalted birth although it’s now often used even of those from families somewhere in the upper middle class.  The “purple death” was hospital slang for Spanish influenza and it was an allusion to the cyanosis which, because of the difficulty breathing, which would turn the skin purple.  In the early post-war years “purple death” was also used to describe a cheap Italian wine.   The phrase “once in a purple moon” was a variation of “once in a blue moon” and some dictionaries include an entry, apparently only for the purpose of assuring us that not only is it extinct but it may never have been in common use.  “Purple bacteria” (the form only ever used in the plural) are a proteobacteria which produce their own food using photosynthesis; they are all classed as purple, even though some are orange, red or brown.  In the analogue-era world of the phone phreaks (hackers who used the telephone networks for other than the intended purpose), a “purple box” was a device which added a hold facility to a telephone line.  It was an allusion to the general term “black box” used in engineering and electronics to describe small devices with specific purposes; not all “purple boxes” were actually purple.  “Purple gas” was a Canadian term which described the gas (motor spirit; petrol) colored with a purple dye to indicate it was sold subject to a lower rate of taxation and for use only in agriculture and not on public roads.  Anyone found using “purple gas” beyond a farm could be charged and many countries use similar methods though the dye is not always purple.  “Purple gold” was a synonym of amethyst gold (a brittle alloy of gold and aluminium, purple in colour).

1994 Porsche 911 Turbo 3.6  (964) in Amethyst Metallic over Classic Gray.

A “purple passage” (also as “purple prose”) was any form of writing thought showy or overwrought, using an exaggerated array of literary devices and effects or marked by excessively ornate rhetoric.  It was a criticism but the later “purple patch” which describes any particular good period or performance (in any context) was wholly positive.  The “purple pill” was an advertising slogan used by a pharmaceutical company but unlike “little blue pill” (Viagra), it never entered the vernacular.  “Purple plague” has specific meanings in chemistry and electronics (relating to a chemical reaction which produces an undesirable purple compound) but a more amusing use is by Roman Catholic bishops noting a unwanted number of monsignors (who wear a purple sash) in their dioceses, sent there by the Vatican.  In US politics a “purple state” is a “swing state”, one which, depending on this and that, may vote either Republican (red) or Democrat (blue).  The “purple star” was the symbol worn by Jehovah's Witnesses in concentration camps in Nazi Germany (1933-1945), one of a number of color-coded patches, the best-known of which was the yellow Jewish star.  The Jehovah's Witnesses were an interesting case in that uniquely among the camp inmates, they could at any time leave if they were prepared to sign a declaration denying their religious beliefs.  In international air-traffic management, a “purple zone” (also “purple airway”) describes a route reserved for an aircraft on which a member of a royal family is flying.  In US military use, the “Purple Heart” dating from 1932, is still awarded to service personnel wounded in combat.  It’s origin was a decoration in purple cloth first awarded in 1782 which came to be known as the “wound stripe”.  In the mid 1960s, “purple haze” was slang for LSD; it was later repurposed for various strains of weed.

Lindsay Lohan, admirer of all things purple.

The dye tyrian purple (all the evidence suggests it would now be thought a crimson), was produced around Tyre and was prized as dye for royal garments, hence the figurative use in the sixteenth century of purple for “imperial or regal power” (it was also the color of mourning or penitence among royalty or the upper reaches of the clergy).  Tyrian purple (also known as shellfish purple) was for long periods the most expensive substance in Antiquity (often (by weight) three times the value of gold, the exchange rate set by a Roman edict issued in 301 AD.  By the fifteenth century when the intricate process to extract and process the dye was lost, Tyrian purple had for millennia been variously a symbol of strength, sovereignty and money and its use had spread from the Classical world to Southern Europe, North Africa, and Western Asia and was so associated with the civilization of the Phoenicians (the color named after their city-state Tyre) that they were known as the “purple people”.  What many didn’t know was that the dye associated with the illustrious came not from a gemstone or some vivid coral but from the slimy mucous of sea snails in the Murex family.  Debate continues about what must have been the process used in extraction and production although, given many factories and artisans were involved over the years, there may have been many variations of the method.

It was in 1453 when the Byzantine capital Constantinople (modern-day Istanbul) fell to the Ottomans that the knowledge of Tyrian purple was lost, something of a footnote to the end of the Eastern Roman Empire but still a loss.  Then, the infamously smelly dyeworks of the old city were the hub of purple production although, after a series of punitive taxes, the Catholic Church had lost control of the pigment which is the origin of the pope’s decision that red would become the new symbol of Christian power and this was adopted for the garb of cardinals; the story that the vivid red symbolized the blood cardinals mush be prepared to spill in the defense of their pope was just a cover story although one obviously approved of by the pontiff.

Beginning in 1968 with Shades of Deep Purple (left), the rock band Deep Purple sometimes used purple-themed album cover art and may have wished they'd stuck with that their eponymous third album (1969).  The original cover (centre), featuring a fragment of one panel of the triptych The Garden of Earthly Delights (1490-1510) by Hieronymus Bosch (circa 1450-1516), was declared "demonic" by the US distributors so an alternative needed hastily be arranged and whether because of the tight schedule or just wanting to play it safe, they stuck to purple (right).  They'd earlier had a similar difficulty with their US label when releasing their second album (The Book of Taliesyn (1968)), the objection that time that one song title (Wring That Neck) was "too violent" (it was an instrumental piece and the reference was to a technique used with the neck of a guitar but it was anyway changed to Hard Road).  Times have changed.

Appoggiatura

Appoggiatura (pronounced uh-poj-uh-too-r-uh or uh-poj-uh-tyoo- r-uh or ahp-pawd-jah-too-rah (Italian))

In musical composition, an ornament consisting of a non-harmonic note (short or long) preceding a harmonic one either before or on the stress (a note of embellishment preceding another note and taking a portion of its time).

1745-1755: From the Italian appoggiatura, from appoggiare (to lean; to prop; to support) from the Vulgar Latin appodiāre (present active infinitive of appodiō, from the Classical Latin podium) and related to the French appuyer, the Spanish apoyar and the Portuguese apoiar.  The meaning in music is for the sense of one note “propping up” another.

The Appoggiatura

As in many fields, fashions in music change.  There was a period, during the sixteenth century, when the rules of counterpoint were strict and discords permissible only if they were prepared and resolved in ways used in the previous sections; the only discord normally allowed on the strong beat was the suspension.  There the discord is prepared by the note being tied across from a weak to a strong beat and resolved onto the next weak beat; a type of syncopation.  In the mid-century however, there was a relaxation of the rules of voice leading which included experimentation with unprepared discords, the most important of which was the appoggiatura.  The appoggiatura started as a decorative note which displaced the first part of a note of a melody.  It occurred on the strong beat of the bar and could be either dissonant or consonant but in either case, the appoggiatura resolved (upwards or downwards) onto a consonance but, unlike the suspension, did not require to be prepared or tied from a previous note.  In order to overcome the earlier rule that all discords had to be prepared, the appoggiatura was originally shown as an ornament but later was written out in full.

An ornament: Bach, Orchestral Suite in B minor for flute and strings: Menuet.

That was just a fudge, a composer paying respect to a rule while breaking it because, as played, an appoggiatura is not a short ornament, it takes usually up a full half of the length of the note that it resolves onto and if resolved onto a note three beats long, it takes up a third or two thirds the length.  The appoggiatura is usually connected with the main harmony note by a slur and is normally played with a small degree of emphasis.

Haydn: Sonata in G major XVI:27 Allegro con Brio.

Haydn shows appoggiaturas at *1, *2 and *3, now written out in-full as was normal practice in the classical period. Their identity as elaborating notes is given away by the presence of the slurs.

The two superstars of the 1950s.  Maria Callas and Marilyn Monroe (1926-1962), back-stage after the "Happy Birthday Mr President" performance, Madison Square Garden, New York, 19 May 1962.

December 2 2023 marked the hundredth anniversary of the birth of the singer Maria Callas (1923-1977), the soprano who remains still more famous than any other and the subject of a cult, something attributable certainly to her art but the tempestuous life she led off the stage attracted many; in the very modern sense of the word, Callas was a celebrity.  What Callas is in 2023 is thus a construct, a mix of myth, discography, and public persona although it’s more correct to say she’s a number of constructs; the criteria of trained musicians and critics likely to differ from those who just listen.  She was neither the most technically accomplished nor the most refined singer and yet, as Sir Rudolf Bing (1902–1997; General Manager of the Metropolitan Opera in New York (the Met)) famously noted, “having once heard Callas, it was difficult to listen to anyone else sing the same music”.  That was because whatever the technical flaws or deliberate departures from what had become the accepted techniques of the mid-twentieth century, Callas brought to every performance a thrilling intensity which made the characters come alive in a way even the most virtuosic of her contemporaries couldn’t quite match.

The critics impressed only by technical ecstasy liked to label Callas a “singing actress” and there’s something in that but not in the way they mean; the “acting” wasn’t there to compensate for the voice, it was a part of the voice.  There are several recordings of the “madness” scene in Gaetano Donizetti's (1797–1848) Lucia di Lammermoor (1835) in which, as an exercise in singing, the performances are more accomplished yet it’s the Callas version which is the definitive because only she can send a shiver down the spine.  It was in the interpretation, just as it was when, in Giuseppe Verdi’s (1813–1901) Otello (1886), she played with layers of vocal tones variously to convey feelings of warm nostalgia, paranoia, depression and impending death.  Whatever was in the score to be expressed, it’s there but it wasn’t done with vocal pyrotechnics, indeed Callas, in both studio recordings and live performances often eschewed the cadential trills and appoggiature which, although unwritten, had entered Opera in the seventeenth century and become a signature of sopranos since at least the early nineteenth.  What she did with her voice has been called a kind of “operatic word-painting”, a lending of emotional depth which enabled her, more than any other to transcend the theatrical artificiality of opera and it’s this quality which means even roles for which she seemed an improbable choice (such as Giacomo Puccini’s (1858–1924) Madam Butterfly (1904)) demand attention.

Synesthesia

Synesthesia (pronounced sin-uhs-thee-zhuh or sin-uhs-zhee-uh)

(1) In neurology and psychology, a neurological or psychological phenomenon in which a particular sensory stimulus triggers a second kind of sensation.

(2) The association of one sensory perception with, or description of it in terms of, another, unlike, perception that is not experienced at the same time.

(3) In literary theory or practice, an artistic device whereby one kind of sensation is described in the terms of another.

(4) In medical diagnostics, where a sensation felt in one part of the body as a result of stimulus that is applied to another, as in referred pain.

1881: From the Modern French or the New Latin and derived from Ancient Greek σύν (sún (with) or syn (together) + αἴσθησις (aísthēsis), (sensation; feeling) from the primitive Indo-European root au (to perceive) + abstract noun suffix -ia.  The word was modelled after existing construction anaesthesia.  Traditional spelling in the British Empire was synæsthesia but the US form synesthesia appears now global.  The meaning in psychology relating to the senses (colors that seem to the perceiver to having odor, etc.) is from 1891.  Synesthesia & synaesthete are nouns, synaesthetic is an adjective and synesthetically is an adverb; the noun plural is synesthesias..

Clinicians have two categories of synesthesia: projective and associative.  Those who project see actual colours or shapes when stimulated whereas associators will feel an involuntary connection between the stimulus and the sense that it triggers.  For example, in the form chromesthesia synesthesia (sound to color) a projector would listen to a piano and see a purple shape whereas an associator might respond to the music by thinking it “sounds” purple.  There are a number of types of synesthesia, the best known of which grapheme-color synesthesia or the association of colours with letters or words.  In auditory-tactile synesthesia, certain sounds can induce sensations in parts of the body and debate continues about whether the near-universal reaction(s) induced by finger nails on a blackboard indicates synesthesia is a spectrum condition or this example is endemic in human physiology.   Lexical-gustatory synesthesia is the phenomenon of certain tastes being experienced upon hearing certain words.  Mirror-touch synesthesia is where someone feels the same sensation another person feels such as when a synesthete sees another touched on the arm; the synesthete involuntarily feeling a touch in the same place.  Logically, every possible combination of experiences which can occur can be a type of synesthesia.  Something need not be wide-spread to be a type of synesthesia, it needs just to be specific.

Winter Landscape (1909), oil on cardboard by Wassily Kandinsky, Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg, Russia.

In Russian painter and art theorist Wassily Kandinsky’s (1866–1944) particular synesthesia, color and music inextricably were tangled and so precise was it that he associated each note with an exact hue and it was so intrinsic to his being that he once observed: “…the sound of colors is so definite that it would be hard to find anyone who would express bright yellow with bass notes or dark lake with treble.”  It meant his experience of music was heightened, indeed defined, by the range of visual perceptions which shifted with every note.  The music of Richard Wagner (1813–1883) has had its consequences, good and bad, and it was his vivid visual response to a performance of Wagner’s Lohengrin (1850) at Moscow’s Bolshoi Theatre that he abandoned his successful career as a lawyer and devoted himself to the painting which had been his hobby.  Accepted as a student at Munich’s Academy of Fine Arts, he later described the Wagnerian transformation of his life: “I saw all my colors in spirit, before my eyes. Wild, almost crazy lines were sketched in front of me.”  Wagner has led a few astray but he took Kandinsky on a good path; the world needs more artists more than it needs more lawyers.

Composition VII (1913), oil on canvas by by Wassily Kandinsky, State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia.

Music remained critical to the development of Kandinsky’s abstract paintings and noting the way the Viennese composer Arnold Schoenberg (1874–1951) had abandoned tonal and harmonic conventions in his compositions, he rejected the figure or recognizable object in favor of shapes, lines, and discordant colors which he deployed overlaid on texture to create a rhythmic visual experience which as closely as possible emulated in a two-dimensional space the emotional response he’d experienced when hearing the sounds.  Unsurprisingly, Kandinsky gave many of his paintings musical titles, such as Composition or Improvisation and it wasn’t unusual for critics to use phrases like “Kandinsky’s symphony of colors”.

Lindsay Lohan in blue & yellow as Wassily Kandinsky might have imagined her. 

Kandinsky also perceived color also had the ability to touch the feelings of the viewers, yellow able to disturb while blue awakened the highest spiritual aspirations.  That may have been mapping his experience as a synaesthete on to those not able to enjoy the gift but it was certainly an insight into his visions.  In 1911, Kandinsky published Über das Geistige in der Kunst (Concerning the Spiritual in Art) in which he defined the three types of painting: impressions, improvisations and compositions.  Impressions were based on an external reality while improvisations and compositions depicted images summoned from the unconscious, compositions the more formal of the two.  The treatise is one of the landmarks in the theoretical foundations of abstraction and remains an important contribution to an explanation of the techniques with which art can be constructed in an attempt to evoke psychological, physical, and emotional responses.

Pandemonium

Pandemonium (pronounced pan-duh-moh-nee-uhm)

(1) Wild uproar or unrestrained disorder; tumult or chaos.

(2) A place or scene of riotous uproar or utter chaos.

(3) Satan’s palace at the centre of Hell in Milton’s Paradise Lost.

(4) Following Milton, the abode of all the demons (often with initial capital letter).

1667: In John Milton’s (1608-1674) epic poem, Paradise Lost (1667-1674), Pandæmonium was the name of the palace in the centre of hell, "the high capital of Satan and all his peers”.  Milton coined the word as a construct of the Ancient Greek πᾶν (pân) (all; every (and equivalent to the English pan-)) + the Late Latin daemonium (evil spirit, demon), from the Ancient Greek δαιμόνιον (daimónion) (a diminutive form of δαίμων (daímōn) (“little deity”, “little spirit”, “little angel” or (as Christians interpreted it) “little daemon”, later modernized as “demon”).  Depending on one’s didactic or literary purpose, Pandæmonium may thus be translated variously as “All Demons” or, following Milton, as Pandemoneios (Παν-δαιμον-ειον) (the place of all demons).  The transferred sense of “a place of uproar” dates from 1779 while the general use meaning “wild, lawless confusion” has been in use since 1865.  The alternative spellings are pandaemonium & pandæmonium, the latter still in literary use.  Pandemonium is a noun, pandemoniacal, pandemonious, pandemonic & pandemonian are adjectives, pandemoniac is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is either pandemoniums or pandemonia.

There are special, technical uses of “pandemonium”.  In physics, a pandemonium describes a problem that leads to inaccurate results from high-resolution gamma ray detectors in cases of beta decay when the decay product has a large Q value because the decay product has too many possible energy excitation levels with too much variation in the amount of energy emitted by different levels.  Those who understand that doubtlessly visualize the phenomenon while the rest of us probably need something like a cartoon.  In cognitive science, a pandemonium is a conception of visual object recognition in the brain as a hierarchical system of detection and association by a metaphorical set of "demons" sending signals to each other.  No cartoons required.

Some who have inspired fandemonium: The anyway statuesque Taylor Swift, adding to the effect in 6 inch (150 mm) heels (2016, right), the mean girls of Mean Girls (2004, centre) and the more diminutive Lady Gaga (2023, right).

By way of portmanteau nouns, pandemonium has been an element in (1) pandemonium (panda + (pande)–monium) (the furor induced by the reaction of people to the sight of pandas) and (2) fandemonium (fan + -(pan)demonium) (in pop-culture, the furor caused by or involving fans).  In the matter fandemonium, Lady Gaga (b 1986) called her fans “little monsters” while devotees of the Taylor Swift (b 1989) cult are known as “Swifties” (apparently always with an initial capital).

Paradise Lost

Written in the epic tradition of starting in medias res (in the midst of things), John Milton’s Paradise Lost was published originally as a poem of some ten-thousand lines in ten books (1667) before the second edition (1674) was re-organized into twelve volumes, possibly a nod to the Roman poet Virgil (Publius Vergilius Maro (70–19 BC)) whose epic work the Aeneid (circa 30-19 BC) was thus assembled.  The poem is an account of the biblical tale of the fall of man: the temptation of Adam & Eve by the fallen angel Satan and their expulsion from the Garden of Eden and was structured in two narrative threads, one following Satan, the other about Adam and Eve, a depiction of the tragedy of human existence which can be transformed only by a pure will for redemption.  The second edition is easier to read because it includes chapter summaries.

Milton coined the name for the capital of Hell, “the High Capital, of Satan and his Peers”, built by the fallen angels at the suggestion of Mammon and it appears at the end of Book I of Paradise Lost (1667), noted as having been designed by the architect Mulciber (In Ancient Rome, Mulciber was another name for the Roman god Vulcan), the designer of palaces in Heaven before his fall.  Book II begins with the debate among the Stygian Council (known also as the Infernal Council and the grand gathering of the demons of the Inferno; apparently something like a Tory Party conference but with better catering) in the council-chamber of Pandæmonium.  In an example of free-market efficiency, the demons built the structure in little more than an hour though by far it surpassed in grandeur all human palaces and, being made from solid gold, it never tarnished.  Interestingly, it was Tardis-like, being both small yet with a vast and spacious hall which thronged with swarms of shape-shifting demons, a quality which may account for the spatial ambiguity in the account of the dimensions.

The Shepherd’s Dream (1793), from Paradise Lost, oil on canvas by Henry Fuseli (1741-1825).

One mid-century critique was Milton's God (1965) by Sir William Empson (1906–1984), among the earliest published examples of the techniques of literary deconstructionism being applied to poetic text.   Milton noted his work was a way of “…justifying the ways of God to men” and Empson deconstructed those means, mapping them onto a framework of theological paradox.  While Milton’s God had a mixed reception, it was briefly influential as an early post-modern text although one of the problems inherent in deconstruction is it tempts others to reconstruct and there was a critic who deduced Empson had claimed “the poet felt an active hatred for the God of Christianity.”  That was a challenging notion given the book for so long sat on shelves next to the King James Bible (KJV 1611) and it seemed Epson’s subconscious was being probed.  Although in Milton’s God there was the observation Milton’s social judgment had told him that the Heaven he was imagining before the fall of the angels was already a horrible place, “against his overall intention”, it seems a quite a leap from that to a hatred of the God of the New Testament.

Empson explained what needed better to be understood (because, as he put it, modern Christianity has gone to extreme lengths “to hush it up”) was the moral character of God had become very hard to defend and that this was widely known by the time John Calvin (1509–1564) and Martin Luther (1483–1546) had trod the path of Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274).  Milton was struggling to defend God, noting that in the De doctrina Christiana (On Christian Teaching (397-426)), Aquinas himself had written there were many who believed God caused evil, practically making God the Devil and Milton would assert the relevant Bible texts must not be interpreted literally.  Milton certainly presents God at his worst but the Almighty is a agreeable figure by Book III although it remains clear his path for man will long and painful with many casualties but the poet's theme remained that there would be awful consequences if “the widespread hatred of God could no longer be contained” and this Empson understood.

Pontiff

Pontiff (pronounced pon-tif)

(1) In historic pagan use, any pontifex, high or chief priest.

(2) In historic ecclesiastical use, a bishop.

(3) In modern use, the Roman Catholic Pope, the Bishop of Rome.

1600–1610: From the Middle French pontife, from the Latin pontifex.  The form "pontiff" which emerged in the early 1600s preserved the earlier (pagan) meaning "high priest", from the French pontif, also ultimately from the Latin pontifex (a title used by a Roman high priest).  It was used to refer to the office of bishop in Church Latin but appears not to have been recorded in that sense in English until the 1670s and then, only specifically to "the Bishop of Rome" (ie the Roman Catholic Pope), the Roman Catholic Pope. Pontifical was however used in that sense from the mid fifteenth century but it's now exclusively an alternative name for a pope.  Not any pope however; it’s never used with reference to the Coptic Pope.  The Latin pontifex meant literally “bridge builder”, the construct being pōns (bridge) +‎ fex (suffix representing a maker or producer).  It was used as a title for some of the more senior pagan priests of Ancient Rome, the consensus being it was adopted as a metaphorical device to suggest “one who negotiates between gods and men” although at least one scholar of antiquity suggested the relationship was close to literal in that the social class which supplied the priests was more or less identical with engineers responsible for building bridges.  That may seem more a sociological than theological point but for structural functionalists and other realists, such distinctions seem a bit naff.

Pontifical promotion: Lindsay Lohan in 2019 flirted with an eternity in Hell by purloining a picture of Pope Francis to promote her song Xanax.  The image was taken in 2013, during a visit to the National Shrine of Our Lady Aparecida in Brazil while he was conducting communion.  Captioned “Blessed be the Fruit”, the meme has a digitally altered image of Francis holding up a copy of her debut album Speak (2005) and in the language of the MBAs would probably be classified as a kind of “ambush marketing”.  The prospect of damnation must have been considered but when one has a dropped tune to promote, risks must be taken.

Theodosius I (347–395) was the last Roman Emperor (379-395) to rule both the eastern and western "halves" of the Roman Empire.  Once, on his travels he fell so ill that death seemed inevitable but, upon being baptised, he staged an astonishing recovery and reached Constantinople a devout Christian.  Immediately he set about removing the last vestiges of paganism from the Empire.  It wasn’t the first imperial intervention against paganism.  Earlier, the Emperor Gratian (359–383) had refused the traditional title Pontifex Maximus (chief priest of the state religion) because his bishop thought it unworthy for a Christian emperor to accept a pagan honour, even though it had been worn by emperors since Constantine (circa 272–337).  However, although the Church may have disapproved of pagan baubles for others, by 590, Pope Gregory I (circa 540–604) decided it was fine for him and granted it to himself, explaining a pope was the “…chief priest of Christianity” and that Constantine had claimed to be the “bishop of bishops”, a role long since assumed by popes.  It’s from here the word pontiff evolved into its modern form.

Pope Pius VIII (1761-1830) being carried in Saint Peter's on the Sedia Gestatoria (circa 1825), wearing the papal triple tiara (triple crown) by Emile Jean Horace Vernet (1789-1863).

The sedia gestatoria (gestatorial chair, literally translated from the Italian as "chair for carrying") was the ceremonial throne on which the Pope, pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church, was carried on shoulders of courtiers.  An enlarged and elaborate version of the sedan chair, it was constructed with a silk-covered armchair attached to a suppedaneum, on each side of which were two gilded rings; through these passed the long rods with which twelve palafrenieri (footmen) carried the chair on their shoulders.  With origins in antiquity, the sedia gestatoria was for almost a millennium used to convey popes during the grandest of ceremonial occasions in the Basilica of St John Lateran & St Peter's Basilica and, beyond the Holy See, somewhat less grand sedia gestatoria were used by cardinals and others, given sometimes with the blessing of the pope as an expression of especial favor.  Used also by Byzantine emperors, the concept and much of the design was borrowed from the sedias of the Roman Empire although there, use was a little less exclusive, high officials as well as emperors enjoying the distinction and some fun was made of rich individuals (who held no public office) arranging their own.

Pope Benedict XVI in Popemobile passing 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue (the White House), Washington DC, April 2008.  This Popemobile was based on a Mercedes-Benz ML 430 (W163), powered by a 4.3 litre (260 cubic inch) V8 (M113).

For their public appearances, popes have been driven a variety of vehicles ranging from a Leyland truck to a Ferrari Mondial Cabriolet (1982-1993), the latter believed to be the fastest of the Popemobiles.  Although most associated with the need to provide protection against assassination, the Popemobiles replaced the sedia gestatoria because, although trips such as Benedict's to White House would have been possible with the traditional chair carried by a dozen, attractive young palafrenieri, it would have been time-consuming.  Pope John Paul I (1912–1978; pope August-September 1978) was the last to use the sedia gestatoria and even he had resisted, preferring to walk, acceding only because without the elevated platform, his visibility to the crowd and the television cameras would be so limited.  Pope John Paul II (1920–2005; pope 1978-2005), the first non-Italian pontiff in over four-hundred years, vetoed the idea of being carried on shoulders and alternatives were created, evolving into the increasingly armored Popemobiles.  The sedia gestatoria thus joined the papal tiara (triple crown) on the shelf of the retired symbols of the church of a grander age.

The Triple Tiara

Sultan Süleyman the Magnificent (circa 1545), woodcut by an unknown Venetian artist.  Historians suspect the depiction of the splendid jewel-studded helmet was substantially accurate but the object may simply have been too heavy safely to wear for all but static, set-piece events, the risk of injury to the neck too great.

The papal triple tiara is a crown which has been worn by popes of the Roman Catholic Church since the eighth century.  Traditionally it was worn for their coronation but no pontiff has been so crowned since Saint Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) in 1963 and he abandoned its use after the Second Vatican Council (Vatican II, 1962-1965).  The name tiara refers to the entire headgear and it has used a three-tiered form since a third crown was added during the Avignon Papacy (1309–1378).  It's also referred to as the triregnum, triregno or Triple Crown.  In a piece of one- (or perhaps four-) upmanship, Suleiman I (Süleyman the Magnificent, 1494-1566, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire 1520-1566) commissioned from Venice a four tier helmet to show, in addition to the authority claimed by popes, he could add the symbol of his imperial power.  Often put on display as the centrepiece of Ottoman regalia to impress visitors, there's no documentary evidence the sultan ever wore the four layer tiara, crowns not part of the tradition and, fashioned from gold and gemstones, it would anyway have been extraordinarily heavy.

A representation of the triregnum combined with two crossed keys of Saint Peter continues to be used as a symbol of the papacy and appears on papal documents, buildings and insignia.  Remarkably, there’s no certainty about what the three crowns symbolize.  Some modern historians link it to the threefold authority of the pope, (1) universal pastor, (2) universal ecclesiastical jurisdiction and (3) temporal power.  Others, including many biblical scholars, interpret the three tiers as meaning (1) father of princes and kings, (2) ruler of the world and (3) vicar of Christ on Earth, a theory lent credence by the words once used when popes were crowned:  Accipe tiaram tribus coronis ornatam, et scias te esse patrem principum et regum, rectorem orbis in terra vicarium Salvatoris nostri Jesu Christi, cui est honor et gloria in saecula saeculorum (Receive the tiara adorned with three crowns and know that thou art father of princes and kings, ruler of the world, vicar on earth of our Savior Jesus Christ, to whom is honor and glory for ever and ever).

Documents in the Vatican Archive suggest by 1130 the papal tiara had been modified to become a conventional (and temporal) symbol of sovereignty over the Papal States.  In 1301 during a dispute with Philip IV (Philip the Fair, 1268–1314, King of France 1285-1314), Pope Boniface VIII (circa 1230–1303; pope 1294-1303) added a second layer to represent a pope’s spiritual authority being superior to an earthly king’s civil domain.  It was Benedict XII (1285–1342; pope 1334-1342 (as the third Avignon pope)) who in 1342 who added the third, said to symbolize the pope’s moral authority over all civil monarchs, and to reaffirm Avignon’s possession.  A changing world and the loss of the Papal States deprived the triple crown of temporal meaning but the silver tiara with the three golden crowns remained to represent the three powers of the Supreme Pontiff: Sacred Order, Jurisdiction and Magisterium.

Pope Pius XII (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958) in the papal triple tiara, at his coronation, 1939.

Not since 1963 has a pope worn the triple crown.  Then, the newly-elected Pope Saint Paul VI, at the end of his coronation, took the tiara from his head and, in what was said to be a display of humility, placed it on the altar.  In a practical expression of that humility, the tiara was auctioned; the money raised used for missionary work in Africa although, keeping things in house, the winning bidder was the Archdiocese of New York.  Popes Benedict XVI (1927–2022; pope 2005-2013, pope emeritus 2013-2022) and Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013) received tiaras as gifts but neither wore them.  Benedict’s, in a nice ecumenical touch, was made by Bulgarian craftsmen from the Orthodox Church in Sofia, a gesture in the name of Christian unity.  Benedict would have appreciated that, having always kept a candle burning in the window to tempt home the wandering daughter who ran off to Constantinople.

Lindsay Lohan, the wandering daughter who ran off to Dubai in Lynn Kiracofe tiara, W Magazine photo- shoot, April 2005.

Unrequited

Unrequited (pronounced uhn-ri-kwahy-tid)

(1) Of love, not returned or reciprocated.

(2) Not avenged or retaliated.

(3) Not repaid or satisfied.

1535–1545: The construct was un- + the past participle of requit (ie +-ed).  The un- prefix was from the Middle English un-, from the Old English un-, from the Proto-West Germanic un-, from the Proto-Germanic un-, from the primitive Indo-European n̥-.  It was cognate with the Scots un- & on-, the North Frisian ün-, the Saterland Frisian uun-, the West Frisian ûn- &  on-, the Dutch on-, the Low German un- & on-, the German un-, the Danish u-, the Swedish o-, the Norwegian u- and the Icelandic ó-.  It was (distantly) related to the Latin in- and the Ancient Greek ἀ- (a-), source of the English a-, the Modern Greek α- (a-) and the Sanskrit अ- (a-).  The verb requite dates from circa 1400 in the sense of "repay" (for good or ill), the construct being re- (back) + the Middle English quite (clear, pay up), an early variant of the verb quit preserved in this word.  The –ed suffix was from the Middle English –ede & -eden, from the Old English –ode & -odon (weak past ending), from the Proto-Germanic -ōd- & -ōdēdun.  It was cognate with the Saterland Frisian -ede (-ed) (first person singular past indicative ending), the Swedish -ade (-ed) and the Icelandic -aði.  The suffix was used to form past tenses of (regular) verbs. In linguistics, it remains used for the base form of any past form.  Unrequited is an adjective.  In English, from the 1540s, the earliest reference of the Middle English requiten (to repay), from Old French requiter, is to love affairs.

Probably few were as suited to the calling of suffering as Sylvia Plath (1932-1963) so in taking Ted Hughes (1930–1998; Poet Laureate 1984-2008) as a husband, she made a good career move.

When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn't want it, you cannot take it back. It's gone forever.  Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (1963).

Path's only novel, The Bell Jar was first published in the UK under the pen-name "Victoria Lucas" and is usually described as "semi-autobiographical", names of people & places changed to protect the innocent and the guilty, a literary genre known as a Roman à clef (from the French and literally "novel with a key"), the notion of the "key" being that certain knowledge allows a reader to "unlock" the truth, a instance of "reading between the lines" and the technique has widely been used for reasons both personal and legal.  Within a month of publication, Plath would take her own life and it wasn't until 1967 The Bell Jar was re-released under her name.  Dr Heather Clark's (b 1974) recent biography of Plath (Red Comet (2021)) was outstanding.

Emily Brontë (1818–1848) receives insufficient credit for inventing the modern emo and there are more strands of her in them than there are of the brooding German romantics who tend to be more acknowledged.  Were they here today, Cathy and Heathcliff would be in their darkened bedrooms, on their phones, friending and un-friending each other.

You loved me-then what right had you to leave me? What right-answer me-for the poor fancy you felt for Linton?  Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.  Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights (1847).

Her only novel, Wuthering Heights was first published under the ambiguous pen name "Ellis Bell", a hint at the attitudes of many in the literary establishment (and not a few publishers) towards women writers.  Tellingly, critics at the time were often not kind and while the power of the text was noted, for most it seems to have been too raw to be thought "respectable" fiction and it's latter day reputation as one of the classics of English literature evolved only in the twentieth century under the influence of modernist writing and proto-feminism.  Wuthering Heights is one of those books best read when young because if too long delayed, the historic moment may have passed.  That said, there have probably been some young ladies who read it while at their most impressionable and never quite recovered.

There are many portraits of William Shakespeare (1564–1616) but all are of at least dubious provenance and although there is a contemporary reference to a painting or drawing existing during his lifetime, it's thought all known images were probably created after his death.

If asked to distil from Shakespeare’s works the two most frequent themes, one might suggest "low skulduggery" and "unrequited love" though that’s something which might be said of many literary traditions.  In unrequited love Shakespeare saw comedic potential as well as tragedy because it’s as present in Much Ado About Nothing (1598) & All’s Well that Ends Well (1602) as it is in Romeo & Juliet (1594) where youthful agonies are laid bare.  Sometimes there’s overlap between the tragic and the comic: Malvolio’s desire for the affections Olivia in Twelfth Night (1602) are played for laughs although there’s something cruel about the way things end.  In Cymbeline (1609), it’s a tangle with a flavour of a modern TV talk show, Cloten besotted with Imogen, his mother’s husband’s daughter (ie his step-sister).  Queen Katharine (Catherine of Aragon) in Henry VIII (1613) was the first of the king’s many wives and was both abandoned and bewildered why her love was unrequited but Henry had his own agenda and was in some was perhaps closer to Falstaff in The Merry Wives of Windsor (1597) where it’s really an unrequited lust.  Low skulduggery and unrequited love are both explored in Othello (1603), Roderigo’s longing for Desdemona rendering him vulnerable to manipulation by the evil Iago who harbours his own desires.  In Measure for Measure (1603) there’s a reward for Mariana enduring “five years” of unrequited love for “thou cruel Angelo” who cancelled their engagement because he dowery wasn’t enough: “Her promised proportions / Came short of composition”.  Angelo however is outwitted and Mariana gets her man.  In that case, for her at least, all was well that ends well.  So in Shakespeare there is plenty of unrequited love but he seems to have found the Norse and other Germanic myths emotionally over-wrought and was more pragmatic:

Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing, of nothing first create!
O heavy lightness, serious vanity,
Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms,
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health,
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet (1594)

The Roman Poet Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso; 43 BC–17 AD) in the 814 line Remedia Amoris ("Love's Remedy", circa 2 AD) offered a cure for pining youth suffering the pangs of unrequited love.  His solutions included travel, teetotalism, gardening and, without any apparent sense of irony, the avoidance of love poets.

Lindsay Lohan, Something That I Never Had from Speak (2004).

Do you see me?

Do you feel me like I feel you?

Call your number

I cannot get through

You don't hear me

And I don't understand

When I reach out

Well, I don't find your hand

 

Were they wasted words?

And did they mean a thing

And all that precious time

But I still feel so in-between

 

Someday, I just keep pretending

That you'll stay

Dreaming of a different ending

I wanna hold on

But it hurts so bad

And I can't keep something that I never had

 

Well, I keep tellin' myself

Things can turn around with time

And if I wait it out

You could always change your mind

Like a fairytale

Where it works out in the end

Can I close my eyes?

Have you lying here again

Lindsay Lohan's Something That I Never Had was a tale of the agony of unrequited love.  She should have read from Part XIII of Ovid's Remedia Amoris:

Remembering reopens love, the wound’s newly re-opened:
trifling errors damage the weak-minded.
Consider how, if you touch ashes that are almost dead
with sulphur, they revive, and a tall flame comes from nothing.
So, if you don’t avoid whatever reawakens love,
the flames will light again that once were quenched.