Nefandous

Nefandous (pronounced nef-and-us or nef-fandus)

(1) Not to be spoken of (archaic).

(2) Unspeakable, appalling; abominable, shocking to reasonable senses (rare).

1630s: From the Latin nefandus (unmentionable, impious, heinous), the construct being ne- (the negative particle: “not”) + fandus (to be spoken), gerundive of fārī (to speak), from the primitive Indo-European root bha (to speak, tell, say).  Nefandous is an adjective.  Although not obviously a word needing an intensifier, the comparative is “more nefandous” and the superlative “most nefandous”.

Google's ngrams trace the use of words but because of the way the data is harvested, the numbers represented by the ngrams are not of necessity accurate but, over decades, probably are broadly indicative.  While the numbers do bounce around a bit, it would seen that in British English (lower chart), use of "nefandous" was not infrequent in the nineteenth century while the most recent spike was during the 1930s; while politically and financially a troubled decade, any suggestion of a causal link with use would be speculative.  In US English (upper chart) use appears also to have declined after the nineteenth century, the most recent spike in the use of "nefandous" coinciding with the 2016 presidential campaign; again, to suggest any link with Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021) or crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) would be speculative.  With the 2024 election threatening to be a re-run of 2020 (something quite a few seem to think variously unspeakable, unthinkable or unmentionable), there may be another revival of the word.   

The extinct nineteenth century formations were the noun nefandousness and the adverb nefandously; as an expression of character, nefandousness briefly found uses but the adverb was just silly.  Both seem to have followed the example of nefariousness & nefariously which is etymologically distant although in meaning there’s some overlap, those labelled nefandous often associated with things nefarious (sinful, villainous, criminal, or wicked).  Dating from the late sixteenth century, nefarious was from the Latin nefārius (execrable, abominable), from nefās (that which is contrary to divine law, an impious deed, a sin, crime), the construct being ne- (the negative particle: “not”) + fās (the dictates of religion, divine law), related to the Latin forms Latin forms meaning “I speak, I say” (thus the link with nefandous) and cognate with the Ancient Greek φημί (phēmí) (I say).

Unspeakable, unthinkable, unmentionable

Although the word "nefarious" is now rare, the idea is often expressed in the term "unspeakable", used to describe anything from crimes against fashion to mass murderers.  There was also the use use of "unmentionable" as a euphemism for a lady's underwear (usually in the plural as "her (or my) unmentionables") and although sometimes cited as an example of prudery in Victorian England, the evidence of use at the time suggests it was often something jocular or ironic.  However, there was also the notion of "unspeakable" a piece of literal positive law.  In Asia Minor (near present-day Selcuk, Türkiye), in a sacred grove not far from the city of Ephesus, stood the Great Temple of Artemis (also known as the Temple of Diana), one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. During the evening of 21 July, 356 BC, Herostratus (also called Erostratus) of Ephesus saturated the timber and fabric furnishings of the temple with gallons of oil and when all was thoroughly soaked, he set fires in many places, inside and out.  Within minutes, as he had planned, the fire was uncontrollable and the temple doomed.  Coincidently, on the day the temple was razed, Alexander the Great (356-323 DC) was born.

St. Paul Preaching in Ephesus Before the Temple of Artemis (1885), by Adolf Pirsch (1858-1929).

Herostratus was apparently a wholly undistinguished and previously obscure citizen, different from others only in his desire to be famous and the lengths to which he was prepared to go to achieve that fame.  As shocked Ephesians rushed to the fire, Herostratus met them and proudly proclaimed his deed, telling them his name would for all eternity be remembered as the man who burned down the Great Temple of Artemis and razed one of the wonders of the world.  Herostratus was, as he expected, executed for his arson.  In an attempt to deny him the fame he craved, the Ephesians passed the damnatio memoriae law, making it a capital crime ever to speak of him or his deed.  However, it proved impossible to suppress the truth about such an event; the historian Theopompus (circa 380–circa 315 BC) relates the story in his Philippica and it later appears in the works of the historian Strabo (circa 64 BC–circa 24 AD).  His name thus became a metonym for someone who commits a criminal act in order to become noted.  Subsequent attempts to erase names from history by declaring them unspeakable (tried on a grand scale by comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) and the Kim dynasty in the DPRK (North Korea)) seem always to fail.

It's unfortunate history didn't unfold so Android and iOS were available in 356 BC so  Herostratus could have played Lindsay Lohan's The Price of Fame instead of turning to arson.  The game was said to be "a parody on celebrity culture and paparazzi" and enabled players to become world famous celebrities by creating an avatar which could "purchase outfits, accessories, toys and even pets".  Played well, he could have entered a virtual herostratisphere and the temple might stand today.  As Ms Lohan would understand, the tale of Herostratus reminds all that for everything one does, there's a price to be paid. 

Like many of the tales from antiquity, the story of destruction by arson is doubted.  Various conjectures have been offered, some of which doubt the technical possibility of what Herostratus is said to have done, some claiming it was a kind of inside job by the temple’s priests who had their own reasons for wanting a new building and even a reference to the writings of Aristotle which offers a lightning strike as the catalyst for the conflagration.  However, whatever did or didn’t happen in 356 BC, the word herostatic, to describe one who seeks fame at any cost, has endured, the attempt to make his name unspeakable as doomed as the temple.

Soiree

Soiree (pronounced swah-rey)

(1) An evening party or social gathering.

(2) Used loosely, a party or social gathering held at any time.

1793: from the French soirée (evening activity), the construct being the tenth century Old French soir (evening; night (from the Latin adverb sērō (late; at a late hour) which originally was an ablative of sērus) from sērum (a late time), from sērus (late), from the primitive Indo-European se-ro- (a suffixed form of the root se- (long, late) and the source also of the Sanskrit sayam (in the evening), the Lithuanian sietuva (deep place in a river), the Old English sið (after), the German seit (since), the Gothic seiþus (late), the Middle Irish sith and the Middle Breton hir (long)) + -ée (from the Latin –āta (feminine of –ātus) (the –ate suffix in English).  In French, the feminine suffix –ée was joined to nouns to make nouns expressing the quantity contained in the original noun and thus also relations of times (journée, matinée, année et al) or objects produced.  There was also the nineteenth century swarry, a coining for jocular effect representing the English pronunciation.  The suffix -ate was a word-forming element used in forming nouns from Latin words ending in -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as estate, primate & senate).  Those that came to English via French often began with -at, but an -e was added in the fifteenth century or later to indicate the long vowel.  It can also mark adjectives formed from Latin perfect passive participle suffixes of first conjugation verbs -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as desolate, moderate & separate).  Again, often they were adopted in Middle English with an –at suffix, the -e appended after circa 1400; a doublet of –ee.  In German the spelling is Soirée (plural Soiréen), the synonym being Abendgesellschaft (party held in the evening).  In English, the French soirée is now listed by most sources as an alternative spelling (a la café & cafe).  Soiree is a noun; the noun plural is plural soirees.

In English, strictly speaking, because of the origin in French (soir (evening) familiar in the greeting bon soir (good evening, a time specific way of saying “hello”)), a soiree is a social gathering held in the evening but it has long been used loosely and there have been many soirees held early in the day.  It can be debated whether there’s now an additional meaning (social gathering) or the real meaning is just being ignored but the word is certainly something of a middle-class favourite and it’s not unknown to receive an invitation to an “evening soiree” or “night time soiree” which may be tautological but the meaning shift is probably here to say.  The word is also used with modifiers to make the nature of an event clear (musical soiree; boho soiree, élite soiree; jubilee soiree; birthday soiree etc).

The successful soiree

Some etiquette guides devote entire chapters to the tricks and techniques which make a soiree a success, focusing on food, settings, surroundings and the guest list (who sits next to whom something of an art) and the most structured and demanding event is probably that classic of evening entertaining: the dinner party.  The catering arrangements obviously are critical but the consideration of other matters is also a minor linguistic feast: 

It’s best to avoid inviting the malesuete (“accustomed to poor habits”, an archaic adjective from the Latin malesuētus, the construct being male (badly; poorly) + suētus (past participle of suēscere (to become accustomed; to be used to)) because they tend to be “unaccustomed to good behaviour” and thus won’t fit in.  That doesn’t mean they’re ostracized by all because in their circles (composed of other other malesuete types) there are also soirees for them to enjoy.  Should there be some sort of filing error and a malesuete guest is at the table, all one can hope is that there’s only one of them because in pairs they’ll almost always constult (“to act stupidly together”, a verb from the Latin constult, the construct being con- (together) + stultus (foolish; fool)); they will encourage each other.  However, even the usually well-mannered can become malesuetesque when peloothered (“drunk, thoroughly intoxicated”, an adjective coined by James Joyce (1882–1941), possibly from Hiberno-English as a humorous dialectal corruption of blootered (“drunk”, an informal term in Scots English also meaning or polluted) so if possible research the effect of strong drink on potential invitees.  A caution like “drinks like a fish” need not of necessity mean someone must be chucked because there are amiable and amusing drunks but they may only make it to the reserve (last resort) list.

Deipnosophistry in practice: Lindsay Lohan at the Fox News table, White House Correspondents' Association annual dinner, a soiree at which there is much table talk, Washington DC, April 2012. 

Among the most desirable of those for a dinner party are deipnosophists (“those noted for their sparkling dinner-table conversation”, a noun from the Ancient Greek Δειπνοσοφισταί (Deipnosophistaí), the title of a literary work in fifteen volumes (translated usually as something like “philosophers at their dinner table”) by the third century scholar Athenaeus of Naucratis, describing learned discussions at a banquet, the construct being δειπνο- (deipno-) (meal) + σοφιστής (sophistḗs).  The plural of sophistḗs was sophistaí and the sense used by Athenaeus was one of “wise men knowledgeable in matters of art & science”.  A deipnosophist will never raise matters nefandous (“too odious to be spoken of”, an adjective from Latin nefandus, the construct being from ne- (in the sense of “not”) + fandus, gerundive of fārī (to speak) ao while they may think the unthinkable they’ll never speak the unspeakable.  If there is a guest who is particularly sensitive about some topic which usually is innocuous, it’s acceptable (and often advisable) quietly to advise to the others the matter is tacenda (“a thing not to be mentioned; a subject to be passed over in silence”, a noun from the Latin tacenda, future passive participle of taceo (to be silent, say nothing, to hold one's tongue).

Because of the physical layout of a dinner party (gathered together closely around a table) it’s not possible for a shy guest actually to latibulate (“to retreat and hide oneself in a corner”, a verb from the Latin, the construct being latibulum (hiding place) +‎ -ate (the verb-forming suffix), from lateō (to lie hidden) +‎ -bulum (the nominal suffix denoting instrument)) but there can be some (even the usually talkative) who for whatever reason become on the night taciturn (“tendency habitually to be silent”, a noun ultimately from the fifteenth century French taciturne, from the Latin taciturnus (not talkative; noiseless, quiet, maintaining silence), from tacitus (silent) & tacēre (to be silent).  Tempting though it is to ply them with alcohol (which can “loosen the tongue”), that’s a tactic not without risk and it’s recommended that if possible, a pretext is found to change the seating plan, re-allocating them a spot next to someone they might find more convivial.  At a small table, this will likely have no effect.  If on a second occasion a guest’s taciturnity is noted as truly as habitual, it may be they are deipnophobic (one who suffers the social anxiety deipnophobia (fear of eating in public)); don’t invite them again.

Advesperate: A set table, ready for a soiree.  The construct of advesperate (to draw towards evening) was the Latin ad- (to) + vesper. (evening; the evening meal) from the Proto-Italic wesperos, from the primitive Indo-European wek-w-speros, the cognates including the Ancient Greek ἕσπερος (hésperos), the Old Church Slavonic вєчєръ (večerŭ) and the Old Armenian գիշեր (gišer).  In the liturgical orders of Christianity (and always in the plural "vespers"), it's the sixth of the seven canonical hours (an evening prayer service).

There are also those who may be good conversationalists but exhibit some bad habits which are not good to display at dinner parties (although many are close to obligatory at the beer & bourbon soaked malesuete soirees).  They may obganiate (“to cause irritation by reiteration” (ie to annoy by repeating over and over and over and over…”, a verb from the Italian ostinato (obstinate, persistent), a variant of which is the act of epizeuxis (“the repetition of a word with vehemence and emphasis”, a noun from the Modern Latin epizeuxis, from the Ancient Greek ἐπίζευξις (epízeuxis) (a fastening upon), from ἐπιζευγνύναι (epizeugnúnai), the construct being ἐπί (epí) (upon) + ζευγνύναι (zeugnúnai) (to yoke).  As a rhetorical technique, an epizeuxis can be an effective way to make a point but at a dinner party it should never be accompanied by a dactylodeiktous gesture (“pointed at with a finger”, an adjective from the Ancient Greek, the construct being δάκτυλος (dáktylos) (finger) + δεικτός (deiktós), from the verb δείκνυμι (deíknumi) (to show; to point out) + -ous (the suffix indicating an adjective or descriptive quality).  When noticing such things, a host should adopt the demeanour of a discountenancer (“one who discourages with cold looks to convey disapproval”, a noun from the French décontenancer, from the Middle French descontenancer).

Not a residentarian: Crooked Hillary Clinton in blue pantsuit leaving (early) the soiree planned to celebrate her victory in the 2016 US presidential election, Manhattan, New York, November 2016.

Also tiresome at such a soiree those who beyelp (loudly to talk of, boast of, glory in”, a verb from the Middle English beyelpen, from the Old English beġielpan (to boast) and tend to speak in rodomontades (vainglorious boasting or bragging; pretentious, bluster”, a noun from the Middle French rodomontade, the construct being the Italian Rodomonte (name of the boastful Saracen king of Algiers in two Italian Renaissance epic poems + the Middle French –ade (the suffix used to form nouns denoting action, or a person performing said action), from the Occitan -ada, from the Latin -ata.  In dialectal Italian the name means literally “one who rolls (away) the mountain” (clipped also to “roll-mountain”).  Fortunately, such types are usually elozable (“readily influenced by flattery”, an archaic adjective coined in the sixteenth century the construct obscure but believed to be elo- (from the Latin eloqui (to speak out) + -zable (a variant of the suffix –able (denoting capability or possibility) with the inserted “z” presumably a phonetic convenience.  To deal with such guests, one may need to heterophemize (“to say something different from what you mean to say”, a verb from the Ancient Greek, the construct being hetero-, from the ἕτερος (heteros) (other; different) +-phem-, from φημί (phēmi) (to speak; to say) + -ize (a suffix conveying the notion of “to make; to do” or “to perform the act of”) which is OK because it’s been done before and at some dinner parties in polite society conversations are conducted with little else.  One will though need eventually to be more direct with the residentarian (“a person who is given to remaining at table”, a modern English noun, the construct being resident +arian (the suffix a back-formation from various words ending in “arian”, some directly derived from Classical or Medieval Latin words ending in -arius by adding “-an” to the stem, other indirectly via Old French words ending in “arien(ne)” or “erien(ne)” or from English words ending in “ary” to which “-an” was suffixed.  It was used to create nouns in the sense of (1) a believer in something, (2) an advocate of something or (3) a native or inhabitant of somewhere.  The next day, when reviewing yesterneve (“yesterday evening”, a noun, the construct being yester(day) + -n- + eve(ning), decide which guest must be chucked (never again to be invited) and which adorned the table and thus to be added to the xenium list (“a gift given to a guest”, a noun from the Latin xenium (a gift given to guests or foreign ambassadors, often of food, in Ancient Greece or Rome), from the  Ancient Greek ξένιον (xénion) from the Ionic.