Estate

Estate (pronounced ih-steyt)

(1) A piece of landed property, especially one of large extent with an elaborate house on it.

(2) By extension, in computing, an institution’s collective ICT (information & communications technology) resources.

(3) In law, property or possessions.

(4) In law, the legal position or status of an owner, considered with respect to property owned in land or other things (the degree or quantity of interest that a person has in land with respect to the nature of the right, its duration, or its relation to the rights of others; interest, ownership, or property in land or other things.

(5) In law, the property of a deceased person, a bankrupt etc, viewed as an aggregate.

(6) In UK use, a housing development (sometimes a class-based slur (Council estate (ie directed at those living in social housing)).

(7) As “industrial estate”, land areas designated exclusively for industrial or commercial purposes.

(8) In automotive use, as “estate car” (often clipped to “estate”), an alternative term for a station wagon.

(9) A period or condition of life (archaic).

(10) Within society, one of the major political or social group or classes, historically: (1) the clergy, (2) the nobles, and (3) everybody else; they were style respectively as first, second & third estates with a fourth (the press) later added.  Subsequent additions are not universally acknowledged.

(11) Condition or circumstances with reference to worldly prosperity, estimation, etc.; social status or rank.

(12) The owner of an estate (obsolete).

(13) Pomp or state (obsolete).

(14) High social status or rank (obsolete).

(15) To give an estate to (obsolete).

(16) To bestow upon (obsolete).

1175–1225: From the Middle English estat, from Anglo-Norman estat and Old French estat (state, position, condition, health, status, legal estate), from the Latin status (state or condition, position, place; social position of the aristocracy), from the primitive Indo-European PIE root sta- (to stand, make or be firm).  It was cognate with the Provençal estat and for some time in Anglo-French there was the spelling astat; the form endures in modern French as état.  The native word in the Middle English was ethel (ancestral land or estate, patrimony), from the Old English æðel.  Estate is a noun, verb & adjective, estateman is a noun, estating is a verb and estated is an adjective; the noun plural is estates.

The idea of an estate being the collective property and liabilities of someone (usually of the deceased, bankrupts or debtors) dates from the 1820s and as well as being part of legal jargon (in probate or bankruptcy proceedings), it became a commercial term (“estate sale”, “estate jewellery” etc).  That ultimately was derived from the thirteen century sense when it was used generally of one’s “state, condition or rank in society”.  Presumably because of late fourteenth century use of “estate” to mean “real property” (ie land), in the early 1500s the meaning in this context between then and seventeenth century extended (socially upwards) to imply “a person of estate” (ie the rich, nobility, gentry etc); that was an example of “linguistic association” and the various uses ran in parallel with the technical use in law.  As early as the fourteenth century, there was the idea of “Estates of the Realm”, each a major social class or order of persons regarded collectively as part of the body politic of the country and possessing distinct (and very different) political rights.  At the time the “major” in that phrase referred either to wealth and power (the clergy or nobility) or sheer numbers (everybody else).  By the eighteenth century, the use of “estate” to refer to “the general body politic; the common-wealth” had faded and had been replaced by “the state” and later, “the nation”.

The Third Estate dealing with the First & Second: Execution of Marie Antoinette (1755–1793; Queen Consort of France 1774-1792), 16 October, 1793 by an unknown artist.

In the English-speaking world, the classic example of the three “political estates” was the English model of the Lords Spiritual (bishops), Lords Temporal (hereditary peers) and Commons.  There were though variations on the theme.  The ancient Parliament of Scotland comprised the king and three estates: (1) archbishops, bishops, abbots & mired priors, (2) the barons and commissioners of shires and stewartries (the lands under the jurisdiction of a steward (a magistrate appointed by the crown to exercise jurisdiction over royal lands)) and (3) the commissioners from the royal burghs.  In France the three estates were (1) the nobles, (2) the clergy and (3) the plebs; collectively, these were known as the États Généraux (pronounced ay-tah zhay-nay-roh).  Before Louis XVI (1754–1793; King of France 1774-1792) on 5 May, 1789, summoned the assembly, the États Généraux hadn’t met for 175 years, that meeting in 1614 convened during the minority reign of Louis XIII (1601–1643; King of France 1610-1643).  The 1614 assembly ended in deadlock and that meant no legislative measures ensued (suiting the kings and most of the nobility), thus cementing absolutism as the nature of the French state; operating as absolute monarchs, kings had no interest in sharing power and it was only as a last resort in 1789 with the ancien regime facing a catastrophic financial crisis and structural gridlock that Louis XVI fell compelled to convene the assembly.  By then, it was too little, too late and before long, the guillotine began its bloody business.

Danse Macabre of Basel (circa 1450), a memento mori painting by an unknown artist, Historisches Museum Basel (Basel Historical Museum), Barfüsserkirche, Basel, Switzerland.

The Danse Macabre (Dance of Death) was an artistic genre of allegory dating from the late Middle Ages; exploring the universality of death, it made clear that however high or low exulted one’s station in life, the death ultimately will visit all.  It was a popular artistic motif in European folklore and the most elaborated of all Medieval macabre art.  During the fourteenth century, Europe was beset by deathly horrors, recurring famines, the Hundred Years’ War (1337-1453) and, looming over all, the Black Death, an outbreak of bubonic plague which between 1346-1353 may have killed as many as 50 million, making it one of history's most lethal pandemics.  In reducing the population of Europe by between a third and a half, its demographic, political and economic implications were felt for centuries.  The artists often included some subtle comment about the way something like plague could take victims regardless of their wealth or social standing.  In the modern era, the principle remains, one just as dead whether one is struck by a meteorite, drinks oneself to death or is murdered by the Freemasons.

In the UK, while the composition has much changed, structurally the estates still exists as the (1) the Lords Spiritual (26 Church of England bishops with ex officio seats in the House of Lords, (2) the Lords Temporal (hereditary and life peers, a subset of each sitting in the House of Lords) and (3) the Commons (elected representatives sitting in the House of Commons).  Those examples are however only formalized examples of the ancient (and almost certainly universal) graduation of societies into hierarchical layers.  While the criteria used to establish the layers could between cultures vary, as far as is known, no society with any form of organization has ever not operated on some sort of stratified basis, something not surprising given that’s the inherent (and natural) arrangements of families, human or animal.  Indeed, so pervasive was the idea of “degree” that in the highly stratified Europe of the late Middle Ages, it extended even to the rank-order of birds in the sport of falconry: falcons exclusively were for royalty, peregrines for noblemen, merlins for noblewomen, goshawks for yeomen, sparrowhawks for priests and kestrels for knaves or servants.  Whether in the royal court, the Church, the orders of chivalry or whatever, there were established and well-understood layers.  Even in art, the sense of a living in a layered system was reflected, the many artists between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries who created memorable illustrations of the danse macabre depicting the members of the various estates going to their inevitable death is ways that reflected their status; while there might in death be a kind of democratic equality, the last days of some were celebrated more than others although the works often were satirical and it’s obvious the demise of the rich wasn’t always something to be mourned.

Statue of Edmund Burke (erected 1868), in electro-typed copper-bronze on a square-plan, carved stepped granite plinth with incised lettering, Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland.  Photograph by John Sutton.

The three (in England) estates were originally the three classes of people who could participate in government, either directly or by electing representatives, originally the clergy, barons & knights and the commons (though over time this would change).  Later the “three estates” were sometimes written of as “the three organs of governmental” necessary for legislation: the Crown, the House of Lords and the House of Commons.  Building on the notion of three, the idea of a “Fourth Estate” started to appear in satirical or jocular expressions, the targets of the tag including “the mob” (1752) and “the lawyers” (1825).  In time, a “new” Fourth Estate did join the list and it described the press, the origin often attributed to Anglo-Irish Whig statesman and philosopher Edmund Burke (1729-1797) although the concept was popularized in the writings of Irish literary critic & essayist William Hazlitt (1778–1830); what Burke had suggested was that with newspapers becoming more numerous and more influential, journalists, editors and publishers should be regarded as “the Fourth Estate”.  First seriously discussed in early the 1820s, within a decade the term had gained currency, supplanting earlier associations (although in both Burke and Hazlitt there are unsubtle hints they likely thought of journalists as “the mob in print”, a view doubtlessly reflecting the opinions of most politicians.  From the modest (if sometimes strident) folios of the eighteenth century to Rupert Murdoch’s (b 1931) Fox News today, it’s clear Burke’s insight was prescient.  Subsequent creations have not universally been accepted as part of the political lexicon but the ideas explored are not without foundation.  The term “Fifth Estate” was first seen in the US during the 1960s counterculture and was used as the name of a newspaper first printed in Detroit in 1965 and still published.  Were one generous one could describe that publication as an example of “critical theory” but it was of its time and certainly an outlet for discontent and dissent.  The understanding of the Fifth Estate evolved into a socio-cultural reference encompassing the opinions of those generally excluded from (or at least marginalized by) the mainstream media and in the twenty-first century it included those distributing their content on blogs, vlogs and social media platforms.  It became a generally accepted concept.

Rupert Murdoch with an edition of News of the World, October 1968.

Mr Murdoch is the last of the old style “press barons” (though he declined Margaret Thatcher's (1925–2013; UK prime-minister 1979-1990) offer of a peerage), it will be interesting to see, decades from now, if history acknowledges him, politician W.M. "Billy" Hughes (1862–1952; prime minister of Australia 1915-1923), virologist Sir Macfarlane Burnet (1899–1985) or second wave feminist Germaine Greer (b 1939) as the twentieth century's most influential Australian.  All cast long shadows, some darker than others.

Less accepted is the idea, first suggested in the late 1980s (before the www (world wide web made the internet an accessible, mass market commodity) there’s a “Sixth Estate” functioning as an observer, critic, and counterweight to the Fourth (the press) and Fifth Estate (non-mainstream online media).  The basis of the concept was the realization a political phenomenon of the 1980s was groups of citizens organizing as pressure groups to pursue issues of interest that although tending to be relatively small in number, their clever use of the mainstream media meant they were able (often as “agenda-setters”) to exert an influence beyond their size and budgets.  Obviously, blogs and social media were the natural environment for such groups although, as big tech rapidly honed their techniques, it’s likely in some cases the hunter has been captured by the game but, at least for their sectional audiences, some of the “Sixth Estate” functions still as an unofficial counterweight to the traditional press (now described variously as the “mainstream media” (however archaic that may be), “legacy media” or, as Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) prefers: “fake news media”.  Wholly opportunistic was the attempt to coin “Seventh Estate”.  That was the idea the newest influence to reach critical mass and influence was the “expert strategic advisor”, apparently a collective term for “business analysts, management consultants, thought leaders, market researchers” and such.  The notion of the Seventh Estate seems less a serious contribution to political theory than a marketing promotion.  There may be a case to be made for the recognition of a Seventh Estate and that is as a description of consumer-packaged AI (artificial intelligence).  While philosophers and scientists can write erudite pieces discussing why what AI produces can’t be “independent thought”, it certainly can appear to be and, as theories of cognition explain, that may be enough for some to legitimize AI as the “Seventh Estate”.

Estate cars

UK advertising for the Australian-built Chrysler Valiant Regal Estate, 1975.

Although with engines as large as 360 cubic inch (5.9 litre) V8s, the Australian-built Chrysler Valiants might seem a curious choice for the UK market in the post-oil shock 1970s, the demise of the big Humbers left a gap in the range and in 1967 the Australian cars had the advantage of benefiting from the Commonwealth preference scheme, a low tariff regime which was the last relic of the chimera of imperial free trade.  Sales were never more than a trickle but the Chryslers were close to unique in the tiny market segment and the programme for a while remained profitable even after the tariff advantage was lost in 1973 when the UK joined the EEC (European Economic Community (1957), the Zollverein that would evolve into the EU (European Union (1993)); The cars remained available until 1976.  Although in Australia and South Africa the Valiant station wagons had been called “Safaris” (after 1973 they would in the home market become “station wagons”), in the UK they were always marketed as “Estates”, reflecting the local practice.

1950 Ford Country Squire.

The model represented a transition in method, the timber still real (mahogany plywood with birch or maple spars) but the roof now of steel.  The timber component would later become “fibreglass over appliqué” and that look would for decades endure though as something purely decorative with no structural role. Although the look is better known as the “station wagon”, “estate cars” began life literally as “a car built for use on one’s estate”.  Because, in this context, ownership of an estate was a preserve of the rich (including many with massive debts), the parameters of an estate car’s design included being large, comfortable and able easily to accommodate life’s essentials (hunting dogs, polo gear, fishing rods, shotguns etc).  So that was specific but while there was sufficient demand to make the early estate cars for decades a thing in the catalogues of coachbuilders, there weren’t that many rich folk so rather than using full-metal bodies, what tended to be done was take a the chassis and frontal components of a conventional two or four-door saloon and add a “station wagon like” rear section in timber.  Combining the eye of a coachbuilder with the hands of craftsmen skilled in timberwork, some elegant creations emerged in the pre-war years (some built as late as the 1950s) and the look influenced mainstream manufacturers in the post-war years with timber spars and panels appearing on station wagons, sedans and convertibles (although fibreglass and plastic appliqué would soon replace the natural product, despite which the “woodie” & “woody” nicknames remained).  Inheriting an earlier tradition, the coach-built estate cars came to be called “shooting brakes”.

Estate cars stared life on the estates of the rich: 1937 Bentley 4¼-Litre Shooting Brake by Vincents of Reading.

Although entirely representative of the style of shooting brakes built in the 1930s, Bentley 4¼-Litre chassis B142JD retained until 1949 its original all-weather tourer body by Vanden Plas, converted to a shooting brake in 1949-1950 by the coachbuilder Vincents of Reading.  Founded in 1805 and best known in the era for their closed horse-drawn carriages and railway cars, Vincents began building bodies for motor cars in 1899 but their most commercially successful lines turned out to be the “horse boxes” (now often called “horse floats”) which could accommodate up to four horses and were towed behind cars or trucks.  Post-war realities meant coach-building became a challenging business model and in the late 1940s Vincents shifted their focus to trucks and busses which provided a more stable flow of contracts but a small volume of cars were built as late as 1955; the Bentley shooting brake on a 1937 chassis was untypical but an example of the bespoke work possible.  Vincents built their last car body in 1981.

1961 Chrysler New Yorker Town & Country Wagon.

The economies of scale of the US industry in the post-war years was achieved volume production and efficient assembly with a high degree of interchangeability of parts.  What that meant was it was viable to manufacture even low-volume ranges like the four-door hardtop (ie no B-pillar) station wagons.  As a body-style, they were unique in the world and were in their era kind of the "ultimate estate" and a then unusual combination of something originally purely functional (the station wagon) with the flourish of a motif (the four-door hardtop) that had no purpose other than to look stylish; never big sellers, they were available for a decade, the last produced in 1964.  The same mix 'n' match approach would later produce the sports car based shooting brakes.

The industry never formalized the exact meaning of “shooting brake” but, by convention, since at least the 1920s, it came to be used to describe a two-door car (there were variations) with estate-car coachwork added aft, usually in timber (although some sheet metal was sometimes included).  The origin of the use lies in the original shooting brakes, large horse-drawn carts suitable for use by shooting parties (ie groups of people being taken to a spot at which it was convenient to slaughter wildlife).  The “brake” element in the name was derived from the popularity of the heavy-framed carts for in “breaking-in” spirited horses; etymologists have pointed out the Dutch brik (cart or carriage) but any link is speculative.  In the UK, the term “brake” became so identified with large horse-drawn carts it was applied widely, extended to carts generally, whether or not used by shooting parties.  In France, an estate car (station wagon) was called a break, the French (somewhat unusually) following the example in English, the original form having been break de chasse (hunting break).

Marilyn Cole (b 1949) with the pink Volvo 1800ES she was in 1973 awarded as the prize for being judged Playboy magazine’s PotY (Playmate of the Year).  The last scion of the P1800 coupé (1961-1972), the 1800ES was made only in 1972-1973, production ending because it would have been prohibitively expensive to re-engineer the old platform to meet US safety standards.  The lovely lines of the “estate section” were an in-house project and it remains perhaps the most accomplished shooting brake adaptation from a coupé.  In Sweden, its nickname was Fiskbilen (fish van) which wasn't encouraging but in German-speaking lands, it was dubbed the rather more charming Schneewittchensarg (Snow White's coffin), a nod to the frameless, all-glass rear door.  Doubtlessly the statuesque Ms Cole won PotY on merit but her photo-shoot was the first in which a “full-frontal nude” image appealed in the magazine so that alone may have been enough to persuade the judges.

Not all Volvo estates were as admired Snow White's coffin: Lindsay Lohan with sledgehammer destroying Volvo V70 Estate (1996-2000).

The stunt was something to do with a TV series being cancelled and while an explanation was provided, the rationale was a little difficult to understand and the text was TLDR but whatever, a Volvo got trashed and Ms Lohan obviously enjoyed swinging a sledgehammer so all's well that ends well.  It's impressionistic but it does seem likely the unfortunate reputation once attached to Volvo drivers was disproportionately gained because of those driving the estates.  

Sir David Brown's original Aston Martin DB5 shooting brake, 1965.

In recent decades, what are labelled shooting brakes have tended to be based on fast (or at least “fast-looking”) sports cars rather than the large chassis preferred for the purpose during the inter-war years.  While the shooting brakes commissioned by the HFS (huntin’, fishin’ & shootin’) set could be well-proportioned and even elegant, they were not “sporty” but that market niche emerged in the 1960s.  The best known early examples were the Reliant Scimitar GTE (1968-1986) and Volvo 1800 ES (1972-1973) and what legitimized the style (a two-door coupé with estate coachwork to the aft) was what Sir David Brown (1904–1993) thought would be a one-off based on an Aston Martin DB5 coupé (1963-1965, which the factory, in their English way, called a “saloon”).  Sir David liked his DB5 saloon but found it too cramped comfortably to accommodate his polo gear, shotguns and hunting dogs.  Now, that would be called a “first world problem” but because Brown then owned Aston Martin, he simply wrote out a work order and had his craftsmen create a bespoke shooting brake (thereby confirming the informal English definition of the term: “station wagon owned by someone rich”) which they did by hand-forming the aluminum panels with hammers over wooden formers.  It delighted him and solved the problem but created another because good customers started writing him letters asking for their own.  While folk offering to pay for a company's products usually is a good thing, at the time, Aston Martin was at full capacity building DB5s and developing the up-coming DB6, DBS and V8 models.  With a bulging order book, the resources didn’t exist to add a niche model so the project was out-sourced to the coachbuilder Radford which built a further 11 (and subsequently another 6 based on the DB6 (1965-1971)).  The “sporty” shooting brakes of course had nothing like the storage capacity of the old-style versions, the design imperative being to enlarge a sports car’s luggage space beyond the traditional “toothbrush & bikini”.  So they were better suited to dirty weekends or trips to the ski slopes than a day spent slaughtering wildlife but nobody seems to have thought of a better term and because of the historic association with class & wealth, the target market likes “shooting brake”.

Leveraging her real-life history of driving incidents and DUI incidents, Lindsay Lohan appeared in the Esurance “Sorta Mom” spoof insurance commercial, shown during the 2015 Super Bowl.  The fourth-generation Chrysler Town & Country minivan (2001-2007) was typical of what “soccer moms” drove after the demise of the station wagon.

Citroën CX Loadrunner by Tissier.

The estate version of the Citroën CX (1974-1991) was made between 1975-1991; it was called “Break” in France and “Safari” in the UK.  The most interesting variant was a six-wheel version which permitted a higher load capacity, the best known use as high-speed transporters of newspapers (remarkably heavy in bulk).  Although fitted with low-powered diesel engines, the slippery aerodynamics and advanced suspension made high average speeds possible and proved the most economical way to move the quickly, over distances.  This was a pre-digital version of the “information superhighway”.

“Estate” was but one of the terms used of the body style best known as the “station wagon”, others included “Safari” (France & Australia), “Station Sedan” (Auatralia), “Break” & “Commercial” (France), “Kombi”, “Universal” & “Touring” (Germany”) and “Squire” (US).  The station was perhaps the most emblematic vehicle of post-war America, its popularity a product of (1) increasing prosperity leading to the “two car household” becoming the norm, (2) families moving from cities to newly developed, sprawling suburbs and (3) shopping patterns shifting from inner city department and grocery stores to vast suburban malls (with ever larger car parks, groceries taken from store to car by the provided shopping carts).  Thus the perfect conjunction: women and their station wagons driving to the mall to shop, a model which contributed to the post war US boom.  Internationally long in decline, the station wagon died out in the US by the 1990s although sales in Japan and Europe continued to be strong enough for a number of models to be sustained and in Australia, Holden kept one in the catalogue until the end of the operation in 2017.  Those who once bought station wagons opted instead for minivans, SUVs (sports utility vehicles) or “Crossovers” (vehicles with SUV-like bodywork but built on a lighter platform) while those needing something suitable for unpacking the picnic basket in the polo-ground’s car-park are now (almost) all driving Range Rovers.

Burl & Burr

Burl (pronounced burl)

(1) A small knot or lump in wool, thread, or cloth.

(2) A dome-shaped growth on the trunk of a tree; a wart-like structure which can be 1 m (39 inches) or more across and .5 m (19 inches) or more in height; typically harvested and sliced to make the intricately patterned veneers used in furniture or car interiors.

(3) To remove burls from (cloth) in finishing (which technically means the same as to de-burl).

(4) In Scottish, Australian and NZ slang (1) an attempt; to try (especially in the phrases “give it a burl” & (2) “going for a burl” (going for a drive in a car) (both largely archaic and the latter restricted to the antipodes).

1400–1450: From the late Middle English burle (a small knot or flaw in cloth), from the Old French bouril & bourril (flocks or ends of threads which disfigure cloth), from the Old French bourre & burle (tuft of wool) and akin to the Medieval Latin burla (bunch, sheaf), from the Vulgar Latin burrula (small flock of wool), from the Medieval Latin burra (flock of wool, fluff, coarse hair; shaggy cloth).  The source of the Latin forms is unknown.  The slang forms are probably from the Scottish birl (a twist or turn) but use in this sense seems now to be restricted to Scotland (or those with a Scottish accent) and the South Island of New Zealand.  The large, rounded outgrowth on the trunk or branch of a tree can be highly prized if on a species (most famously walnut) where the timber of a burl develops the swirling, intricate patterns which are used as thinly sliced veneers in the production of furniture and other fine products, notably as trim in the interiors of cars.  Burls develop from one or more twig buds, the cells of which continue to multiply but never differentiate so the twig can elongate into a limb.  In American English, burl has since 1868 been used to describe "a knot or excrescence on a walnut or other tree" but burr is now often used interchangeably while "burlwood", once common, seems now restricted to industry use and commerce.  Burls rarely cause harm to trees but careless (often unlawful) harvesting can cause damage.  The adjective burly (a man large, well-built and muscular) is unrelated and of uncertain origin; the related noun is used of this quality and not the character of timber.  The noun, verb & adjective burlesque is also unrelated.  Burl is a noun & verb, burler is a noun and burled & burling are verbs; the noun plural is burls.  

European burr (or burl) walnut with extensive “bud eyes”.

Burl was productive in English although some forms have a tangled history.  The adjective burly is derived from the circa 1300 borlich (excellent, noble; handsome, beautiful), probably from the Old English borlice (noble, stately (literally "bowerly", ie fit to frequent a lady's apartment)).  The sense evolved by circa 1400 to mean "stout, sturdy" and later "heavily built".  Some etymologists also suggest a connection between the Old English and the Old High German burlih (lofty, exalted) which was related to burjan (to raise, lift).  In Middle English, it was applied also to objects (even transitory things like cloud formations) but has long been restricted to people.   The noun burlesque (piece composed in burlesque style, derisive imitation, grotesque parody) had been in use since the 1660s, the earlier adjective (odd, grotesque), from the 1650s, from the sixteenth century French burlesque, from the Italian burlesco (ludicrous), from burla (joke, fun, mockery), presumably from the Medieval Latin burra (trifle, nonsense (literally "flock of wool" and thing something light and trivial)).  The more precise adjectival meaning "tending to excite laughter by ludicrous contrast between the subject and the manner of treating it" is attested in English by 1700.  Comedy and burlesque represent the two great traditions of representational ridicule, the former draws characters in conventional form, the latter by using a construct quite unlike themselves.  As long ago a 1711, one critic described burlesque as existing in two forms, the first represents mean persons in accoutrements of heroes, the other describes great persons acting and speaking like the basest among the people.  By the late nineteenth century, it typically meant "travesties on the classics and satires on accepted ideas" and vulgar comic opera while the modern sense of something risqué ("a variety show featuring striptease) is an invention of American English which co-evolved during the same era and became predominant by the 1920s.

Burrs (or burls) on a tree.  Burls should not be confused with galls which are small and form along twigs and leaves.  Burls are much larger and form on trunks and branches as an integral part of the tree.  Galls grow outside and are independent of the tree.

The noun burlap (coarse, heavy material made of hemp, jute, etc., used for bagging) dates from the 1690s, the first element probably from the Middle English borel (coarse cloth), from the burel or the Dutch boeren (coarse), although there may have been some confusion with boer (peasant).  The second element, -lap, meant "piece of cloth".  There has been debate about the noun hurly-burly (originally hurlyburly) (commotion, tumult) which in the 1530s was apparently an alteration of the phrase hurling and burling, a reduplication of the fourteenth century hurling (commotion, tumult), from the verbal noun of hurl.  William Shakespeare (1564–1616) had hurly (tumult, uproar) and the early fifteenth century hurling time was the name applied by chroniclers to the period of tumult and commotion around Wat Tyler's (circa 1341–1381; a leader of the 1381 Peasants' Revolt in England) rebellion.   In the early nineteenth century a hurly-house was said to be a "large house in a state of advanced disrepair" and there is presumably some connection with the dialectal Swedish hurra (whirl round) but it’s all quite murky and whether burly in this context is related to burl in the sense of something rough or merely coincidental a rhyme is uncertain.

Burr (pronounced bur)

(1) A rough or irregular protuberance on any object, as on a tree (spelled also as burl).

(2) A small, handheld, power-driven milling cutter, used by machinists and die makers for deepening, widening, or undercutting small recesses (technically called burr grinders which, with a revolving disk or cone with abrasive surfaces are used to smooth burr holes).

(3) In metal fabrication, a protruding, ragged edge raised on the surface of metal during drilling, shearing, punching, or engraving (spelled also as buhr); a blank punched out of a piece of sheet metal.

(4) A washer placed at the head of a rivet.

(5) In ceramics, a fragment of brick fused or warped in firing.

(6) In any form of engineering, to form a rough point or edge on.

(7) In structural phonetics, (1) a pronunciation of the r-sound as a uvular fricative trill, as in certain Northern English dialects (of which the Northumberland is an exemplar) or the retroflex r of the West of England, (2) a pronunciation of the r-sound as an alveolar flap or trill, as in Scottish English or (3) any pronunciation popularly considered rough or non-urban.

(8) To speak with a burr (to speak roughly, indistinctly, or inarticulately) (can be applied neutrally or as a (usually class-loaded) disparagement.  The use to describe the classic Scottish pronunciation is merely descriptive and thus usually neutral although it can be modified such as "...spoke in a strong and almost incomprehensible Scottish burr". 

(9) A whirring sound or rough, humming sound.

(10) In the sense of a broad ring on a spear or tilting lance (placed below the grip to prevent the hand from slipping), a variant of burrow (in obsolete sense: borough) (dating from the sixteenth century and now rare except in historic reference).

(11) In geology, a mass of hard siliceous rock surrounded by softer rock.

(12) A sharp, pointy object, such as a sliver or splinter (regionally specific).

(13) As bur; a seed pod with sharp features that stick in fur or clothing (similar to hayseed).

(13) In anatomy, the ear lobe (archaic).

(14) In zoology, the knot at the bottom of an antler (analogous with the burrs (or burls) on trees.

1375–1425: From the late Middle English burre (possibly related to the Old English byrst (bristle)), burrewez (plural) & buruhe (circle), a variant of brough (round tower), an evolutionary fork of which became the Modern English broch.  It was cognate with the Danish burre & borre (burdock, burr) and the Swedish borre (sea-urchin).  The spelling burr was a variant of the original bur, the addition probably a tribute by the written to the spoken long R sound, the use in phonetics noted from the 1750s, presumably both imitative and associative, the sound being thought of as rough like a bur; the onomatopoeic form may be compared with the French bruire.  The original idea of "rough sound of the letter -R" (especially that common in Northumberland) was later extended to "northern accented speech" in general and was soon integrated into the English class system as one of many class identifiers.  It may be the sound of the word is imitative of the speech peculiarity itself, or it was adapted from one of the senses of bur (the late fourteenth century phrase “to have a bur in (one's) throat” was a figure of speech suggesting the choking sensation or huskiness associated with having something rough caught in the windpipe) but the authoritative Oxford English Dictionary (OED) notes that despite the similarity, the Scottish -r- is a lingual trill, not a true burr.  Burr is a noun & verb, burred & burring are verbs and burrish, burrless & burrlike are adjectives; the noun plural is burrs.

1962 Facel Vega Facel II.

Powered by Chrysler V8s, the Facel Vegas (1954-1964) were France's finest cars of the post-war years and followed the template of the trans-Atlantic hybrids (a powerful (and cheap) US V8, atop a bespoke platform clothed with stylish European coachwork) which flourished until the first oil crisis in 1973 but were in many ways a "cut above most", featuring aluminum panels and stainless steel rather than chrome trim.  The equipment levels were lavish with leather and interior appointments of the highest quality but one curiosity was the extensive "burl walnut" was actually painted metal, so well executed by Facel's craftsmen it demanded a inspection to reveal the nature of the material.  Facel production ended in 1964, the company bankrupted by the flood of warranty claims which flowed from the chronic unreliability of the French-built four-cylinder engine adopted for a smaller range.  The Facellia (1960-1964) was a good idea because the market for such a thing existed but by the time Facel had re-engineered it to used reliable power-plants (a Volvo four and Austin-Healey six), the debts had become unserviceable and the company was doomed.

1969 Lincoln Continental Mark III (plastic wood).

By the mid 1960s Detroit mostly had abandoned the use of timber.  The internal frames went first, only a handful of low-volume specialist vehicles still using the technique when production resumed in the post-war years.  Next to go were the partial-timber bodies, the best known of which were the "woodie" ("woody" once preferred the preferred used in the UK but "woodie" seems now global, presumably because most such surviving wagons were US-built) station wagons although there were also high-priced convertibles and sedans, the latter pair appealing on the basis of the look but those prepared to pay a premium proved a vanishing breed and that was understandable because the manufacturers recommended an annual re-varnishing, a tiresome task and a financial imposition even in an age when unit labor costs were low.  None were left by 1951 and the station wagons followed within a few years as improved production techniques made "all metal construction" a cheaper path to follow.  However, inexplicable though it may have been to the rest of the planet, Americans liked the "woodie" look on pick-ups (some car-based) and especially station wagons so for decades the manufacturers happily supplied the market with "faux woodies" which were created by gluing on 3M's Di-NOC appliqué, framed by fibreglass spars, all components designed to look like timber.  Sometimes with (limited) success and sometimes not, there were even convertibles, an attempt to cash in on any lingering nostalgia for what was around in the days of the administration of Harry S Truman (1884–1972; POTUS 1945-1953).

1970 Lincoln Continental Mark III (real wood).

In the 1960s, as the "real stuff" became rare, "plastic wood" did proliferate in interiors and increasingly it was "faux" rather than "fake" in that often it was obviously phoney although in the higher-priced lines more effort often was taken to try to fool people.  One strange example was Ford's Lincoln Continental Mark III, produced over three seasons with the design imperative having been: "Put a Rolls-Royce grill on a Thunderbird."  Astonishingly profitable because in terms of engineering it was exactly that and not a great deal more, its success inspired Ford to upgrade a few aspects and one change was to replace the plastic wood in the interior with genuine walnut, once part of a tree.  For whatever reason, Ford opted not to emulate Jaguar or Rolls-Royce and use a burl walnut veneer, opting instead for a straight-grain timber which looked almost exactly like the previous year's plastic fittings.  A very close inspection would reveal the truth but it's doubtful many bothered and Ford must have reached the same conclusion, wondering why they bothered.  When the Lincoln Continental Mark IV was released in 1972, it kept the leather but reverted to a plastic wood that blatantly was phoney; over four seasons, it was a great success and is regarded still as the classis "land yacht".

Lindsay Lohan (top left) with luggage, on-location for the filming of Liz & Dick (2012); the car is a Mercedes-Benz 600 (W100, 1963-1981) four-door Pullman.  The early versions of the 600 had the most timber trim.

Buyers of the 600 could choose from a variety of timbers when ordering a 600 although the tale of one customer from the Middle East arriving at the factory with his preferred tree is believed apocryphal.  Not all opted for the burl walnut (Zebrano and the dramatic Macasar Ebony among the choices) and one true eccentric sent his 600 to a French coachbuilder to have all the factory’s timber covered in leather but, because the many other modifications included a vast, single-piece transparent Triplex panel spanning the entire length and width of the roof, the absence of walnut may not immediately be noticed.  Unfortunately, after 1967, the veneer no longer appeared on the instrument binnacle, replaced by a leather covering.  Officially, the explanation was the use had proved vulnerable to sun-damage on the W111 (1961-1971) and W112 (1962-1967) cabriolets which used a similar fitting but production costs were high because, with so many curves and crevasses, applying veneer to the binnacles was labour intensive so although the cabriolets were a small part of the model mix, the decision was taken to standardize a leather covering.  Especially on the W111 coupés & cabriolets the veneered binnacles are much admired and some have been retro-fitted to later models.

The circa 1300 bur (prickly seed vessel of some plants) from the Middle English burre was from a Scandinavian source, either the Danish borre, the Swedish hard-borre or the Old Norse burst (bristle), from the primitive Indo-European bhars.  In the 1610s, it was transferred to refer to a "rough edge on metal" which led ultimately to the use in phonetics and the name give to various tools and appliances.  The noun burstone dates from the late thirteenth century and was an adaptation from the Middle English burre, the stone so-named presumably because of its roughness.  Aaron Burr (1756–1836; VPOTUS 1800–1804) fled after killing a political rival in a duel and plotted to create an independent empire in the western US.  In 1807 he was acquitted on a charge of treason.  To remove a burr (typically in engineering or carpentry) is to deburr (or debur).  The homophones are Bur & brr.  The noun rhotacism dates from 1830 in the sense of “an extensive or particular use of 'r'”, from the Modern Latin rhotacismus, from the Ancient Greek rhotakizein, from rho (the letter -r-), from the Hebrew or Phoenician roth.  A technical adaptation from 1844 was the use to describe the conversion of another sound, usually "s" to "r" (as in Aeolian Greek, which at the end of words changed -s to –r, the related forms being rhotacize & rhotacization.  Regarding timber veneers, the conventional wisdom is that burl is American English while burr is used in the rest of the English-speaking world.  That’s not accurate although burl in this sense is an American innovation from 1868 and probably a useful one.  In the specialized arboreal branch of botany, the words cancer and canker were also once used to describe the growths on trees but these uses seem never to have extended beyond the profession.

1965 Jaguar Mark X (1961-1966, renamed as 420G 1966-1970) with the rare manual gearbox.  The Mark X never realized Jaguar's sales expectations in the US market but it could have been a great success if one potential development path had been followed.

Not all the Mark Xs & 420Gs had the burl walnut finish (many with a bland, honey-colored timber) but they are the most desired.  Like the E-Type (XKE, 1961-1974), the Mark X is a classic example of "1960s Jaguar syndrome": Another few months of development and an additional £40 spent on the production line and most of the problems wouldn't exist.  With the burl timber, the Mark X's interior was one of the most atmospheric of the era but although impressive in appearance, the dashboard's timber top rail obviously was a safety issue (it was a time when the wearing or even fitting of seatbelts wasn't obligatory and airbags were generations away) and when the 420G appeared in October 1966, a full-width (with central clock) padded section had replaced the upper wood; visual appeal sacrificed for safety.

1959 Bentley S1 Continental Two-Door Saloon (Design 7500) by H.J. Mulliner.

Before the marque’s late century revival of differentiation, the Continentals (1952-1965) were regarded by some dedicated aficionados as “the last ‘real’ Bentleys” although there was once a purist faction which held none had been built since Rolls-Royce assumed ownership in 1931 and undertook an elaborated form of “badge-engineering” which, by the mid-1960s, evolved to the point where a Bentley was listed at a few pounds less than the equivalent Rolls-Royce because “it took less time to manufacture the grill”, there being no other difference between the two.  In their day, the Continentals were among the most expensive cars available and being coach-built, although there were “standard body designs” there were many variations and detail differences so it may be no two exactly were alike.  The R-Type Continental (1952–1955) was the one which established the car’s reputation and there’s a high survival rate among the 208 units produced.  The S-Series Continentals (S1, S2, S3, 1955 to 1965) were more numerous with over 1,100 built and while the lines weren’t exactly avant-garde, compared with the contemporary Rolls-Royce models which showed obvious pre-war roots, they were quite rakish.  The interiors too were notable for the burl walnut trim that could be astonishingly ornate, even the instrument bezels sometimes delicately finished with a matching veneer.

Lindsay Lohan behind the wheel of 1972 AMC Javelin SST, photo-shoot for Cosmopolitan magazine's Work Issue, October 2022: dress and boots by Alexandre Vauthier (b 1971), earrings by Carolina Neves (b 1986), ring by Sauer, photographed by Ellen Von Unwerth (b 1954).

By 1972, the US manufacturers largely no longer attempted to make the fake wood look “realistic” and the obviously plastic appliqué became almost a motif in itself.  Like many manufacturers, AMC liked three letter designations and they also had a trim package called “SST” which, according to internal documents, stood for “Super Sports Touring” and not “Stainless Steel Trim” as has been suggested (although use was made of the metal for some of the bright-work so the assumption was not unreasonable).  Doubtlessly AMC expected some positive association in the public mind with the SST (supersonic transport) projects several US aerospace manufacturers were in the era pondering as competition for the Anglo-French Concord(e).  In another specialized field, those in carpentry concerned with fine veneers, there are further distinctions, some defining a burr as an English word meaning a type of growth on a side of a tree which is full of “bud eyes” (the most distinctive pattern associated with expensive veneers) while burl is of US origin and refers to any type of growth on the side of a tree, including burrs.   That would seem to suggest burl would thus include the healing growth over surface damage or broken branches.  Others, notably timber merchants seem most often to regard burls as any highly figured wood with twisted and contorted grain regardless of whether it comes from a growth on the side of a tree, root, stump, or has grown all the way up the trunk, and whether it contains bud eyes or not.  In commerce, this is doubtlessly useful because people buy timber for veneering on the basis of appearance rather than where it happened to grow.  It would of course be useful if one word could be accepted to mean the growth on a tree and the other the harvested timbers from these growths but, being English, such a logical distinction didn't evolve.