Accidie

Accidie (pronounced ak-si-dee)

Sloth; apathy, in the sense of both (1) a general listlessness and apathy and (2) spiritual torpor.

1200–1250: From the Middle English accidie, from the Anglo-Norman accidie, from the Old French accide & accidie, from the Medieval Latin accidia (an alteration of Late Latin acedia (sloth, torpor), from the Ancient Greek ἀκήδεια (akḗdeia) (indifference), the construct being ἀ- (a-) (in the sense of “not”) +‎ κῆδος (kêdos).  It was a doublet of acedia, still cited as an alternative form and replaced the Middle English accide.  The word was in active use between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries and was revived in the nineteenth as a literary adornment.  Accidie and acediast are nouns and acedious is an adjective; the noun plural is acediasts.

The alternative literary words include (1) ennui (a gripping listlessness or melancholia caused by boredom; depression), an unadapted borrowing from the French ennui, from the Old French enui (annoyance), from enuier (which in Modern French persists as ennuyer), from the Late Latin inodiō, from the Latin in odiō (hated) and a doublet of annoy, (2) weltschmerz, used as an alternative letter-case form of the German Weltschmerz (an apathetic or pessimistic view of life; depression concerning or discomfort with the human condition or state of the world; world-weariness), the construct being Welt (world) + Schmerz (physical ache, pain; emotional pain, heartache, sorrow) and coined by German Romantic writer Jean Paul (1763–1825) for his novel Selina (published posthumously in 1827) and (3) mal du siècle (apathy and world-weariness, involving pessimism towards the current state of the world, often along with nostalgia for the past (originally in the context of French Romanticism) (literally “disease of the century”) and coined by the French writer Alfred de Musset in his autobiographical novel La Confession d'un enfant du siècle (The Confession of a Child of the Century (1936)).

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

In Antiquity, the Greeks seemed to have refined accidie (which translated literally as being in “a state so inert as the be devoid of pain or care”) to be used of those who has become listless and no longer cared for their own lives or their society, thus distinguishing it from other conditions of melancholy which tended to be individually focused although in surviving medical texts, what’s being diagnosed was something like what might now be called “depression”.  Predictably, when adopted by moral theologians in Christian writing, it was depicted as a sin or at least a personal flaw.  Others wrote of it as a “demon” to be overcome and even a temptation placed by the Devil, one to which “young men who read poetry” seem to have been chronically prone.  It can be thought of as falling into the category of sloth, listed in the Medieval Latin tradition as of the seven deadly sins and appeared in Dante Alighieri’s (circa 1265–1321) Divina Commedia (Divine Comedy (circa 1310-1321)) not only as a sin worthy of damnation & eternal punishment but the very sin which led Dante to the edge of Hell.  In his unfinished Summa Theologiae (literally Summary of Theology), the Italian Dominican friar, philosopher & theologian Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) noted accidie was a spiritual sorrow, induced by man’s flight from the Divine good, “…on account of the flesh utterly prevailing over the spirit”, the kind of despair which can culminate in the even greater sin of suicide.

Google ngram: Accidie 1800-2020.

Google ngram: Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

Etymologists note that between the mid sixteenth and mid nineteenth centuries the word acedia was close to extinct and whether it was the revival of interest in the Romantic poets (often a glum lot) or the increasing number of women becoming novelists, there was in the late 1800s a revival with the term, once the preserve of theologians, re-purposed as a decorative literary word; in the “terrible twentieth century” there was much scope for use and it appears in the writings of Ian Fleming (1908–1964), Aldous Huxley (1894–1963) and Samuel Beckett (1906-1989).  Intriguingly, in The Decline and Fall of Nokia (2014), Finnish-based expatriate US writer David J Cord introduced the concept of corporate acedia, citing the phenomenon as one of the causes of the collapse of Nokia's once dominant mobile device unit.

Joan Didion (1934-2021) and cigarette with her Daytona Yellow (OEM code 984) 1969 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray (on the C2 Corvette (1963-1967) and in 1968 the spelling had been "Sting Ray”).  The monochrome image was from a photo-session commissioned in 1970 by Life magazine and shot by staff photographer Julian Wasser (1933-2023), outside the house she was renting on Franklin Avenue in the Hollywood Hills.  To great acclaim, her first work of non-fiction, Slouching Towards Bethlehem (1968), had just been published.

Writing mostly, in one way or another, about “feelings”, Joan Didion’s work appealed mostly to a female readership but when photographs were published of her posing with her bright yellow Corvette, among men presumably she gained some “street cred” although that might have evaporated had they learned it was later traded for a Volvo; adding insult to injury, it was a Volvo station wagon with all that implies.  She was later interviewed about the apparent incongruity between owner and machine and acknowledged the strangeness, commenting: “I very definitely remember buying the Stingray because it was a crazy thing to do.  I bought it in Hollywood.”  Craziness and Hollywood were then of course synonymous and a C3 Corvette (1968-1982) really was the ideal symbol of the America about which Ms Didion wrote, being loud, flashy, rendered in plastic and flawed yet underpinned by a solid, well-engineered foundation; the notion of the former detracting from the latter was theme in in her essays on the American experience.

A 1969 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray in Daytona Yellow.

Disillusioned, melancholic and clinical, Ms Didion’s literary oeuvre suited the moment because while obviously political it was also spiritual, a critique of what she called the “accidie” of the late 1960s, the moral torpor of those disappointed by what had followed the hope and optimism captured by “Camelot”, the White House of John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963).  In retrospect Camelot was illusory but that of course made real the disillusionment of Lyndon Johnson (LBJ, 1908–1973; US president 1963-1969) leading the people not to a “great society” but deeper into Vietnam.  Her essays were in the style of the “new journalism” and sometimes compared with those of her contemporary Susan Sontag (1933-2004) but the two differed in method, tone, ideological orientation and, debatably, expectation if not purpose.

Susan Sontag (1962), monochrome image by Village Voice staff photographer Fred McDarrah (1926–2007).

Ms Didion’s used accidie to describe a society which the troubled 1960s seemed to have bludgeoned into a state not of acquiescence but indifference, a moral exhaustion.  Her writings were observational (and, as she admitted, sometimes “embellished” for didactic purposes), sceptical and cool, her conception of the failure of contemporary politics a matter of describing the disconnect between rhetoric and reality, understanding the language of theatre criticism was as appropriate as that of the lexicon of political science.  In a sense, 'twas ever thus but Ms Didion captured the imagination by illustrating just how far from the moorings of reality the political spectacle of myth-making had drifted.  Ms Sontag’s tone was declarative and distinctly authoritative (in the way of second-wave feminism), tending often to the polemic and the sense was she was writing in opposition to a collective immorality, not the kind of moral indifference Ms Didion detected.  Both were students of their nation’s cultural pathology but one seemed more a palliative care specialist tending a patient in their dying days while the other offered a diagnosis and suggested a cure which, while not something to enjoy: "would be good for them".  While Ms Didion distrusted ideological certainty, Ms Sontag engaged explicitly with “isms”, not in the sense of one writing of the history of ideas but as a protagonist, using language in an attempt to shape political consciousness, the former a kind of secular moral theologian mourning a loss of coherence in American life while the latter was passionate and wrote often with a strident urgency, never losing the sense that whatever her criticisms, things could be fixed and there was hope.  The irony of being an author to some degree afflicted by the very accide she described in others was not lost on Ms Didion.

Susan Sontag, circa 1971, photographed by Jim Cartier.  The pop-art portrait of comrade Chairman Mao Zedong (1893–1976; chairman of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) 1949-1976) was a print of Roy Lichtenstein's (1923–1997) Mao (1971) which had been used as the cover for US author Frederic Tuten's (b 1936) novel The Adventures of Mao on the Long March (1971).  Ms Sontag had written a most favourable review of the book and the framed print was reputedly a gift.

Joan Didion with Corvette, another image from Julian Wasser’s 1970 photo-shoot.  The staging in this one is for feminists to ponder.

While a stretch to say that in trading-in the Corvette for a Volvo station wagon, Ms Didion was tracking the nation which had moved from Kennedy to Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974), it’s too tempting not to make.  Of the Corvette, she used the phrase: “I gave up on it”, later recounting: “the dealer was baffled” but denied the change was related to moving after eight years from Malibu to leafy, up-market suburban Brentwood.  While she “…needed a new car because with the Corvette something was always wrong…” she “…didn’t need a Volvo station wagon” although did concede: “Maybe it was the idea of moving into Brentwood.”  She should have persevered because as many an owner of a C3 Corvette understands, the faults and flaws are just part of the brutish charm.  Whether the car still exists isn't known; while Corvette's have a higher than average survival rate, their use on drag strips & race tracks as well as their attractiveness to males aged 17-25 has meant not a few suffered misadventure.

Joan Didion with Corvette, rendered as oil on canvas with yellow filter.

The configuration of her car seems not anywhere documented but a reasonable guess is it likely was ordered with the (base) 300 horsepower (hp) version (ZQ3) of the 350 cubic inch (5.7 litre) small-block V8, coupled with the Turbo-Hydramatic 400 (TH400) (M40) three-speed automatic transmission (the lighter TH350 wouldn't be used until 1976 by which time power outputs had fallen so much the robustness of the TH400 was no longer required).  When scanning the option list, although things like the side-mounted exhaust system (N14) or the 430 hp versions (the iron-block L88 & all aluminium ZL1, the power ratings of what were barely-disguised race car engines deliberately understated, the true output between 540-560 hp) of the 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) big-block V8 would not have tempted Ms Didion, she may have ticked the box for the leather trim (available in six colors and the photos do suggest black (402 (but if vinyl the code was ZQ4)), air conditioning (C60), power steering (N40), power brakes (J50), power windows (A31) or an AM-FM radio (U69 and available also (at extra cost) with stereo (U79)).  Given she later traded-in the Corvette on a Volvo station wagon, presumably the speed warning indicator (U15) would have been thought superfluous but, living in Malibu, the alarm system (UA6) might have caught her eye.

An emo with 1977 Volvo 245 station wagon; if she had a Corvette to pose with she’d be smiling because Corvettes can make even emos happy.  This is Emma Myers (b 2002) as Pippa "Pip" Fitz-Amobi in A Good Girl's Guide to Murder (Netflix, 2024).

Quintessential symbols of France, Bridget Bardot (b 1934), Citroën La Déesse and a lit Gitanes.

The combination of a car, a woman with JBF and a cigarette continued to draw photographers even after smoking ceased to be glamorous and became a social crime.  First sold in 1910, Gitanes production in France survived two world wars, the Great Depression, Nazi occupation but the regime of Jacques Chirac (1932–2019; President of France 1995-2007) proved too much and, following the assault on tobacco by Brussels and Paris, in 2005 the factory in Lille was shuttered.  Although Gitanes (and the sister cigarette Gauloise) remain available in France, they are now shipped from Spain and while in most of the Western world fewer now smoke, Gitanes Blondes retain a cult following.

Emily Labowe with Mercedes-Benz 300 TD (S123), photographed by Kristin Gallegos.

An image like this illustrate why, even if no longer quite as glamourous, smoking can still look sexy.  The 300 TD is finished in Manila Beige and for the W123 range Mercedes-Benz also offered the subdued Maple Yellow and the exuberant Sun Yellow which was as vivid as the Corvette's Daytona Yellow. 

No images seem to exist of Ms Didion with her Volvo station wagon but Laurel Canyon's Kristin Gallegos (b 1984) later followed Julian Wasser’s staging by photographing artist Emily Labowe (b 1993) with a Mercedes-Benz 300 TD station wagon and that once essential accessory: a cigarette.  One of the last of the “chrome Mercedes”, the W123 range was in production between 1975-1986 and the station wagon appeared in 1977 with the internal code S123 (only nerds use that and to the rest of the world they’re “W123 wagons”).  The designation was “T” (the very Germanic Tourismus und Transport (Touring and Transport)) or TD for the diesel-powered cars and the S123 was the company’s first station wagon to enter series production, previous such “long roof” models coming from coach-builders including many hearses & ambulances as well as station wagons.  The English still call station wagons "estates" (a clipping of "estate car") although a publication like Country Life probably still hankers after "shooting brake" and the most Prussian of the German style guides list the compound noun Kombinationskraftwagen which for decades has usually been clipped to the semi-formal Kombiwagen, (plural Kombiwagen or Kombiwägen) or, in general use: Kombi.

1978 Mercedes Benz 280 TE (S123).

That Mercedes-Benz in the mid-1970s decided their first station wagon in regular production should be a “T” (and understood as a Tourenwagen (touring car) rather than a “K” (ie Kombiwagen, the designation used by other manufacturers) reflected the prevailing German view of such cars.  Unlike the US where station wagons had long been emblematic of middle-class respectability (often as a family’s second car for the wife & mother) or England where the style enjoyed an association with the upper class HFS (huntin’, fishin’ & shootin’) set, to Germans the utilitarian long-roofs had a down-market image, bought only by those unable to afford separate vehicles for business & pleasure.  Coach-builders had of course used Mercedes-Benz saloons as the basis for station wagons, ambulances and hearses but these were always expensive and thus not tainted by association with thriftiness by necessity.  In their alphanumeric soup of model designations, Mercedes-Benz had previously used “K” to mean either Kompressor (supercharged) (eg 770 K) or Kurz  (short) (eg SSK) and other letters had also done double-duty, “L” standing for either Lang (long) (eg 500 SEL) or Licht (light) (eg SSKL) and “S” could mean both Super (300 SL) or Sports (300 SLR) so for the S123 “K” wasn’t avoided because of fears of confusing folk; it was just an image thing: "Don't mention the kombi".  That all changed in the 1980s when the Germans decided wagons were sexy after all, the high performance arms of Audi, BMW & Mercedes-Benz all producing some remarkably fast ones.   

Mercedes-Benz G4s: Gepäckwagen (baggage car, top left) & Funkauto (radio car, top right) and 300 Messwagen (bottom left) at speed on the test track, tethered to a W111 sedan (1959-1968, bottom right).

The factory did though over the decades build a handful including a brace of the three-axle G4s (W31, 1934-1939), one configured as a Gepäckwagen (baggage car), the other a Funkauto (radio car).  In 1960 there was also the Messwagen (measuring car), a kind of “rolling laboratory” from the era before technology allowed most testing to be emulated in software.  The capacious Messwagen was based on the W189 300 “Adenauer” (W186 & W189 1951-1962) and was then state of the art but by the 2020s, the capabilities of all the bulky equipment which filled the rear compartment could have been included in a single phone app.  Students of design will admire the mid-century modernism in the curve of the rear-side windows but might be surprised to learn the muscle car-like scoop on the roof is not an air-intake but an aperture housing ports for connecting the Messwagen’s electronic gear with the vehicle being monitored, the two closely driven in unison (often at high speed) on the test track while being linked with a few metres of cabling and although we now live in a wireless age, real nerds know often a cable is preferable, the old ways sometimes best.  The Messwagen remained in service until 1972 and is now on display at the factory’s museum in Stuttgart.   

1956 Mercedes-Benz 300c (W186 "Adenauer") Estate Car by Binz.

The factory's Messwagen wasn't the first use of the big W186/W189 for long-roof variants, hearses and ambulances having appeared in several European countries and there was at least one station wagon, proving consumption can be conspicuous yet still subtle, achieved usually if a bespoke creation is both expensive and functional.  The 300 saloons and four-door cabriolets were large, stately and beautifully built, the 1956 example pictured was delivered to a customer in the US who for whatever reason prized exclusivity over capacity or speed, all the major US manufacturers at the time offering station wagons able to accommodate more people and more more luggage while going much faster.  The 300 certainly would have delivered better fuel economy but that wouldn't have crossed the mind of the purchaser who would have been deterred from something like a Chrysler New Yorker or Ford Country Squire because they were, by comparison with her one-off, cheap and common whereas a custom built 300 “dripped money”; even to the uninformed they would obviously have been expensive and it was thus a classic "Veblen good" a quirk in the supply & demand curve of orthodox economics in that for a certain (ie the "1%") demographic demand for an item can increase as its price rises.  The car still exists, traded between collectors to be exhibited at concours d'elegance.

1957 Mercury Turnpike Cruiser (left), details of the apparatuses above the windscreen (centre) and the Breezeaway rear window lowered (right)

The 1957 Mercury Turnpike Cruiser was notable for (1) the truly memorable model name, (2) the “Breezeway" rear window which could be lowered and (3) having a truly bizarre assembly  of “features” above the windscreen.  There’s no suggestion that when fashioning the 300 Messwagen the engineers in Stuttgart were aware of the Turnpike Cruiser but had they looked, it could have provided an inspiration for the way access to ports in the roof could have been handled.  Unfortunately, the pair of “radio aerials” protruding from the pods at the top of the Mercury’s A-pillars were a mere affectation, a “jet-age” motif embellishing what were actually air-intakes.  They were though a harbinger of the way in which future “measuring vehicles” would be configured when various forms of wireless communication had advanced to the point at which a cable connection was no longer required.  

Malachite

Malachite (pronounced mal-uh-kahyt)

(1) In mineralogy, a bright-green monoclinic mineral, occurring as a mass of crystals (an aggregate).  It manifests typically with a smooth or botryoidal (grape-shaped) surface and, after cutting & polishing, is used in ornamental articles and jewelry.  It’s often concentrically banded in different shades of green, the contrast meaning that sometimes lends the substance the appearance of being a variegated green & black.  Malachite is found usually in veins in proximity to the mineral azurite in copper deposits.  The composition is hydrated copper carbonate; the chemical formula is Cu₂CO₃(OH)₂ and the crystal structure is monoclinic.

(2) A ceramic ware made in imitation of this (in jewelry use, “malachite” is used often as a modifier).

(3) In mineralogy, as pseudomalachite, a mineral containing copper, hydrogen, oxygen, and phosphorus.

(4) In mineralogy, as azurite-malachite, a naturally-occurring mixture of azurite and malachite

(5) In organic chemistry, as malachite green, a toxic chemical used as a dye, as a treatment for infections in fish (when diluted) and as a bacteriological stain.

(6) Of a colour spectrum, ranging from olive-taupe to a mild to deeply-rich (at times tending to the translucent) green, resembling instances in the range in which the mineral is found.  In commercial use, the interpretation is sometimes loose and some hues are also listed as “malachite green”).

1350-1400: From the Middle French malachite, from the Old French, from the Latin molochītēs, from the Ancient Greek malachitis (lithos) (mallow (stone)) & molochîtis (derivative of molóchē, a variant of maláchē), from μολόχη (molókhē) (mallow; leaf of the mallow plant).  It replaced the Middle English melochites, from the Middle French melochite, from the Latin molochītis.  Malachite is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is malachites.

A pair of Malachite & Onyx inlay cufflinks in 925 Sterling Silver (ie 92.5% pure silver & 7.5% other metals), Mexico, circa 1970.

Although in wide use as a gemstone, technically malachite is copper ore and thus a “secondary mineral” of copper, the stone forming when copper minerals interact with different chemicals (carbonated water, limestone et al.  For this reason, geologists engaged in mineral exploration use malachite as a “marker” (a guide to the likelihood of the nearby presence of copper deposits in commercial quantities).  It’s rare for malachite to develop in isolation and it’s often found in aggregate with azurite, a mineral of similar composition & properties.  Visually, malachite & azurite are similar in their patterning and distinguished by color; azurite a deep blue, malachite a deep green.  Because the slight chemical difference between the two makes azurite less stable, malachite does sometimes replace it, resulting in a “pseudomorph”.  Although there is a range, unlike some minerals, malachite is always green and the lustrous, smooth surface with the varied patterning when cut & polished has for millennia made it a popular platform for carving, the products including al work, jewelry and decorative pieces.  For sculptors, the properties of malachite make it an easy and compliant material with which to work and it’s valued by jewelers for its color-retention properties, the stone (like many gemstones) unaffected by even prolonged exposure to harsh sunlight.  Despite the modern association of green with the emerald, the relationship between mankind & malachite is much more ancient. evidence of malachite mining dating from as early as 4000 BC found near the Isthmus of Suez and the Sinai whereas there’s nothing to suggest the emerald would be discovered until Biblical times, some two millennia later.

Lindsay Lohan in malachite green, this piece including both the darker and lighter ends of the spectrum.

The Malachite is relatively soft meant it was easy to grind into a powder even with pre-modern equipment; it was thus used to create what is thought to be the world’s oldest green pigment (described often as chrysocolla or copper green).  In Antiquity, the dye was so adaptable it was used in paint, for clothing and Egyptians (men & women) even found it was the ideal eye makeup.  Use persisted until oil-based preparations became available in quantity and these were much cheaper because of the labor-intensive grinding processes and the increasing price of malachite which was in greater demand for other purposes.  This had the side-effect of creating a secondary market for malachite jewelry and other small trinkets because the fragments and wastage from the carving industry (once absorbed by the grinders for the dye market) became available.  The use in makeup wasn’t without danger because, as a copper derivate, raw malachite is toxic; like many minerals, the human body needs a small amount of copper to survive but in high doses it is a poison’ in sufficient quantities, it can be fatal.  Among miners and process workers working with the ore, long-term exposure did cause severe adverse effects (from copper poisoning) so it shouldn’t be ingested or the dust inhaled.  Once polished, the material is harmless but toxicology specialists do caution it remains dangerous if ingested and any liquid with which it comes in contact should not be drunk.  Despite the dangers, the mineral has long been associated with protective properties, a belief not restricted to Antiquity or the medieval period; because the Enlightenment seems to have passed by New Agers and others, malachite pendants and other body-worn forms are still advertised with a variety of improbable claims of efficacy.

The Malachite Room of the Winter Palace, St Petersburg, Russia was, during the winter of 1838-1839, designed as a formal reception room (a sort of salon) for the Tsar & Tsarina by the artist Alexander Briullov (1798–1877), replacing the unfortunate Jasper Room, destroyed in the fire of 1837.  It’s not the only use of the stone in the palace but it’s in the Malachite Room where a “green theme” is displayed most dramatically, the columns and fireplace now Instagram favorites, as is the large large urn, all sharing space with furniture from the workshops of Peter Gambs (1802-1871), those pieces having been rescued from the 1837 fire.  Between June-October 1971 it was in the Malachite Room that the Provisional Government conducted its business until the representatives were arrested by Bolsheviks while at dinner in the adjoining dining room.  The putsch was denounced by the Mensheviks who the Bolsheviks finally would suppress in 1921.

Polished malachite pieces from the Congo, offered on the Fossilera website.

Where there is demand for something real, a supply of a imitation version will usually emerge and the modern convention is for items erroneously claiming to be the real thing are tagged “fake malachite” while those advertised only as emulation are called “faux malachite”.  Although not infallible, the test is that most fake malachite stones are lighter than the real thing because, despite being graded as “relatively soft” by sculptors, the stone is of high in density and deceptively heavy.  The patterning of natural malachite is infinitely varied while the synthetic product tends to some repetition and is usually somewhat brighter.  The density of malachite also lends the stone particular thermal properties; it’s inherently cold to the touch, something which endures even when a heat source is applied.  Fake malachite usually is manufactured using glass or an acrylic, both of which more rapidly absorb heat from the hand.

Lindsay Lohan with Rolex Datejust in stainless steel with silver face (left) and the Rolex's discontinued "malachite face" (centre & right).  Well known for its blue watch faces, during the more exuberant years of the 1970s & 1980s the company “splashed out” a bit and offered a malachite face.  The Datejust is now available with a choice of nine faces but the Green one is now a more restrained hue the company calls “mint green”.

Panglossian

Panglossian (pronounced pan-glos-ee-uhn or pan-glaws-ee-uhn)

(1) A naïve or unreasonably optimistic view (can be used negatively, neutrally, or positively).  

(2) Of or relating to the view that this is the best of all possible worlds (can be used negatively, neutrally, or positively).  

1758: From the character of the philosopher and tutor Dr Pangloss, in Voltaire's (the nom de plume of François-Marie Arouet (1694-1778)) satirical novella Candide (1759), the construct being Pangloss +‎ -ian.  Pan in this context is in the sense of “all”, the Modern English from the Middle English panne, from the Old English panne, from the Proto-West Germanic pannā, from the Proto-Germanic pannǭ.  It was cognate with the West Frisian panne, the Saterland Frisian Ponne, the Dutch pan, the German & Low German Panne & Pann, the German Pfanne, the Danish pande, the Swedish panna and the Icelandic panna.  Gloss is probably from a North Germanic language, the influence perhaps the Icelandic where the word was glossi (spark, flame) & glossa (to flame) or the from the dialectal Dutch gloos (a glow, flare), related to the West Frisian gloeze (a glow), from the Middle Low German glȫsen (to smolder, glow), ultimately from the Proto-Germanic glus- (to glow, shine), from Proto-Indo-European gael- (to flourish; be green or yellow); related to the modern glow.  The Greek glōssa translates literally as "tongue”.  The –ian suffix is from the Latin -iānus (the alternative forms were -ānus, -ēnus, -īnus & -ūnus); it was used to which form adjectives of belonging or origin from a noun.  Panglossian is an adjective and Panglossianism is a noun.

Voltaire's Dr Pangloss (an aptronym al la Mr Talkative & Mr Worldly Wiseman in John Bunyan’s (1628–1688) 1678 Christian allegory The Pilgrim’s Progress) was a construct of Pan in the sense of “all” and gloss in the figurative sense of something “superficially or deceptively attractive appearance”.  The comparative is more Panglossian, the superlative most Panglossian; the most commonly used synonym is Pollyannaish (from the eponymous character in the 1913 novel by US author Eleanor H Porter (1868-1920); the little girl who no matter what misfortune befalls her, manages always to find something about which to be glad).  Although a critique rather than anything hagiographic, Candide was very much a work of the Enlightenment, controversial and in some places, like the author, banned.  Voltaire created Pangloss as a parody of the German philosopher Gottfried von Leibniz (1646-1716) who claimed this is the best of all possible worlds (there are those who blame Leibniz for starting the tradition of German philosophers going mad (eg Nietzsche, Weber and (at least debatably) Hegel)).  Just to emphasize the point for English readers, some of the early translations subtitled: Candide: All for the Best (1759) & Candide: The Optimist (1762), the last re-used even in 1947.

Candide was a young man who had led a sheltered, idyllic life being tutored with Leibnizian optimism by Dr Pangloss, “the greatest philosopher of the Holy Roman Empire”.  The theme being what happens when philosophy meets the real world, the work describes Candide's slow and mournful disillusionment as he witnesses and endures the vicissitudes of earthly existence, ending with the realization that while we certainly don’t live in Leibniz’s “best of all possible worlds”, it’s still a place in which “we must cultivate our garden" and make the best of what is which Candide expresses as “all is for the best in this best of all possible worlds”.  Panglossianism is thus a byword for excessive, even exuberant, optimism and authors have had fun with it ever since, the cheeky term "panglossian pessimism" describing the idea that because this is the best of all possible worlds, improvement is impossible, a theme Joseph Heller (1923-1999) explored in one of the memorable exchanges in Catch-22 (1961).  Some 260 years on, Candide remains a pleasure to read and such is Voltaire's touch that modern readers will find much with which to identify, scenes such as the glum dinner in Vienna where the guests are all deposed ex-Kings could easily have been written any time in the last century.  One of Voltaire’s many memorable lines is in Candide, his explanation of why the Royal Navy had one of their own admirals, John Byng (1704–1757) executed by firing squad his own quarterdeck: "...mais dans ce pays-ci il est bon de tuer de tems en tems un Amiral pour encourager les autres.” (...but in this country it is found good, from time to time, to kill one Admiral to encourage the others).  However, like Shakespeare and Churchill, some quotes are attributed to him on the basis merely that they sound Voltairesque.  He really did say the “…agglomeration which was called and which still calls itself the Holy Roman Empire was in no way holy, nor Roman, nor an empire." but the story that when on his death bed a priest appeared to administer the last rites and asked: "Do you accept God, renouncing the Devil and all his works?", he answered: "This is hardly the time to be making enemies" is apocryphal.  Before it was first attributed to Voltaire in the 1970s, the joke had circulated for over a century, the dying man said variously to be Machiavelli (Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli, 1469–1527), the US Author Wilson Mizner (1876–1933) and some unidentified Irishmen and Scotsmen.

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

While one of the seminal texts of the Enlightenment, Candide is also an irony-laden attack on the optimistic hopes and faith of Enlightenment thought. Voltaire’s criticism of Leibniz’s philosophy is directed mostly as his principle of sufficient reason, which maintains that nothing can be so without there being a reason why it is so, the consequence of which is the belief that the actual world must be the best one humanly possible.  Later, structural functionalists would start in much the same place and reach other conclusions.

Ostentation

Ostentation (pronounced os-ten-tey-shuhn or os-ten-tey-tuhn)

(1) Pretentious or conspicuous show, as of wealth or importance; display intended to impress others or invite admiration or applause.

(2) The act of showing or exhibiting; a display for some purpose (archaic).

(3) A collective noun for a number of peacocks.

1425–1475:  From the late Middle English ostentacioun (ambitious display, pretentious show, display intended to evoke admiration or attract attention), from the mid-fourteenth century Middle French ostentation, from the Old French ostentacion, from the Classical Latin ostentātiōnem (nominative ostentātiō) (showing, exhibition, vain display), past participle of ostentāre (to present, display or exhibit), the construct being ostentat(ionem) + ion.  The –ion suffix was from the Middle English -ioun, from the Old French -ion, from the Latin -iō (genitive -iōnis).  It was appended to a perfect passive participle to form a noun of action or process, or the result of an action or process.  The adjective ostentatious in the sense of “characterized by display or show from vanity or pride” was in use by the turn of the eighteenth century while the more familiar meaning “showy, gaudy, intended for vain display” emerged probably within a decade.  In sixteenth & seventeenth century English there were the now extinct forms ostentative, ostentive & ostentous while the adverb ostentatiously and the noun ostentatiousness both appear in texts from the 1650s.  Ostentation & ostentatiousness are nouns, ostentatious is an adjective and ostentatiously is an adverb; the noun plural is ostentations.  The adjective unostentatious is almost always used as a compliment.

The origins of the meaning of the adjectives ostensive & ostensible (neither directly associated with ostentation’s sense of “showy, flamboyant etc”) lie in the now archaic meaning of ostentation as “an act of showing or exhibiting; a display for some purpose”.  Ostensive (apparently true, but not necessarily; clearly demonstrative) was from the French ostensif, from the Medieval Latin ostensivus.  Ostensible (apparent, evident; meant for open display; appearing as such; being such in appearance; professed, supposed (rather than demonstrably true or real)) was from the French ostensible, the construct being the Latin ostens(us), the past participle of ostendō (show) + -ible.  The suffix –ible was from the Middle English, from the Old French, from the Latin –ibilis (the alternative forms were –bilis & -abilis.  An adjectival suffix, now usually in a passive sense, it was used to form adjectives meaning "able to be", "relevant or suitable to, in accordance with", or expressing capacity or worthiness in a passive sense.  The suffix -able is used in the same sense and is pronounced the same and –ible is generally not productive in English, most words ending in -ible being those borrowed from Latin, or Old & Middle French; -able much more productive although examples like collectible do exist.  The other form in the Medieval Latin was ostensibilis.

An ostentation of peacocks.

The collective noun for peacocks (male), peahens (female) & peachicks (the offspring) is “pride”, “ostentation” or “muster”.  All these can also be used of just the peacocks but the popular convention seem to be to use “ostentation”, the reason being it so suits the extravagant, colorful plumage.  The females have feathers which blend in with the surroundings, making them less conspicuous, a differentiation which may strike a chord with feminists.

Recently, the reasons for the difference were explained in a helpful piece which was obviously authoritative because it was written by Ms Emily Peacock.  According to Darwinian theory, the large, heavy assembly of tail feathers must confer some evolutionary advantage and in the case of the peacock the colourful array’s purpose must be compelling because zoologists have in the wild noted cases where the train has grown to the extent the weight impedes movement, thereby making the unfortunate bird “vulnerable to predators.”  Ms Peacock explained evolution happened this way because of a particular instance of Darwin’s theory of natural selection: “survival of the sexiest”, the peahen selecting “beautiful males for mating”.  While it’s true the spreading of the tail does create a large surface area with the illusion of large penetrating eyes which can deter potential predators (such as snakes or large wild cats), it’s the appeal to peahens which matters most, the “…more extravagant the fan, the more likely a male will find a mate” and thus continue his gene line.  At the biological level, the point is that rather than being shallow creatures attracted merely to the attractiveness of the display, the peahen uses the peacock's tail feathers as a marker of health and virality, choosing the male with the most obviously strong genes because it means her offspring will be more likely to survive.  

A peacock being ostentatious; a peahen playing hard to get.

The feathers with their array of exotic colors also attract people and as well as their use in fashion (real and stylized), for millennia they have been symbols of wealth and power.  The Peacock Throne (a jewelled creation on which early seventeenth century craftsmen toiled for some six years) was the seat of the emperors of the Mughal Empire in India although the term gained its modern notoriety because of the later association with the Shahs of Persia (Iran after 1935), the object looted by invading Persians in 1739.  Although always popularly known as the “Peacock Throne” because of the prominent use of depictions of the birds in the renderings, there were various official names for the throne, all quite prosaic by comparison.  The appeal continued in modern times, the NBC (National Broadcasting Company) broadcasting network in the US adopting the peacock’s fan for the corporate logo when in 1956 television transmission began in color.  Still used today, the colors allude to the spectrum used in TV broadcasts rather than the bird’s more elegant mix.

Faux ostentation: Lindsay Lohan in fur.  Given that on none of these fur-trimmed outings did Tash Peterson, PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) activists or other angry vegans appear from the darkness flinging blood and screaming accusations of murder, it may be assumed she was wearing faux fur.

Like many twentieth century politicians who in their youth served in the military during technologically simpler times and then immersed themselves in the history of pre-modern battle, emerging with a Napoleonic attitude to the business, Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) disapproved of the trend in military personnel establishments to “bottom-heaviness”, noting the ever-growing volume of (usually) non-combatant mechanics, drivers, dentists and such.  He was especially critical at the numbers on the “Q side” (based on the office of Quartermaster, the officer in charge of barracks, stores, supplies and logistics), the legion of clerks, cooks, storemen and others who functions as the cogs in the modern, mechanised military machine.  Although no technophobe (indeed his enthusiasm for new inventions often caused alarm in the high command), Churchill’s view of an army was still romantic, colored by his memory of riding in a knee-to-knee cavalry charge or straight ranks of battalions advancing with fixed bayonets; he was sceptical of the need for the administrative appendage to comprise sometimes nearly half a unit’s establishment.  In his view, the army needed “more fighting men and fewer typists”, complaining to Field Marshal Lord Alanbrooke (1883–1963; Chief of the Imperial General Staff (CIGS) 1941-1946) that the British army was “like a peacock, all tail and very little bird”.  Alanbrooke, one of the country’s most prominent bird-watchers (the respectable term now “birder” and the hobby “birding”) wasn’t about to let the ornithological slight pass unanswered and responded: “The peacock would be a very poorly balanced bird without its tail.”  Churchill remained unconvinced but, unlike his opponent in Berlin, didn’t interfere in such operational details.

General Motors' (GM) advertising for the 1958 Buicks.  So taken was Buick with the grille that unusually, it was given a name: The “Fashion-Aire Dynastar Grille” which contained 160 diecast faceted chrome squares, each of which (according to Buick) was "shaped in a design to maximize the amount of reflective light".  The aerospace industry was quite an influence on Detroit during this era and B-58 was an allusion to the naming schemes used for US warplanes, the notion of a B-52 for the road at the time an attractive idea for many buyers.  The "Air Born" reference was to the short-lived "Air Poise Suspension" which provided a smooth ride but was prone to leaks which left the big cars sitting on their axles.

Before sanity (in shape if not always in size) began to prevail in the 1960s, the trend in post-war car design in the US had been one of increasing ostentation and while it was the 1957 Chrysler line which probably deserves the most blame for starting it, it was the huge resources of the General Motors Technical Center (a billion dollar (in 2024 US$ values) venture in the 1950s) which allowed stylists (they weren’t yet called “designers”) sometimes to cast themselves adrift from the moorings of reality imposed by restraint and good taste.  To understand what happened in the late 1950s, one has to imagine some of the more bizarre creations stalking the catwalks of London, Paris, Milan & New York not only appearing in high street shops with affordable price tags but people buying them to wear to the grocery store.  The famous tail-lamps recalling bright red bullets fired from the vertiginous fins of the 1959 Cadillac are the best remembered from the era but in fairness they are nicely detailed and a single point of focus on a design which was, by comparison with the 1958 Buick, actually not over-embellished.

1958 Buicks: Special convertible (left) and Roadmaster Limited convertible (right).  The side trim on the 1958 Buicks varied according to their place in the model hierarchy (Special, Super, Century & Roadmaster & Roadmaster Limited (Riviera was a body style designation and a badge as such wasn’t used in 1958)).  It seems a sterile debate to discuss which is the more ostentatious.

The award for the most ostentatious range of those years goes to the 1958 Buicks, the most expensive of which were adorned with just about every motif which could be rendered in chrome or stainless steel, curves, angles and lines horizontal & vertical all competing for the eye.  Infamously, GM’s bulbous 1958 bodies were so obviously dated they were replaced after only one season and while the 1959 models were ostentatious in their own way (exuberant rather than baroque), to this day they have many admirers while the 1958 cars are thought by most something between a period piece and a freak show.  In an issue which afflicted the whole industry, the single platform used by the big three (GM, Ford & Chrysler) for most of their models had become very big (the unique ones used for some exclusive lines bigger still) and all had projects in the pipeline to respond to the increasing sales of smaller imports, programmes which ultimately would yield the highly successful “compact” and “intermediate” ranges.  The influence the existence these smaller cars would have on the appearance of the full-sized lines is often underestimated; their reduced size meant the styling tricks which worked at scale couldn’t be replicated so something simpler had to be used.  This produced bodies which were balanced and attractive, influencing the upcoming full-sized lines even before their release and the big cars from 1958-1961 were (almost) the last of their type; baroque didn’t quite die with the coming of 1962 because Chrysler still had old ideas to re-cycle but that was the last gasp.

Buick’s promotional postcard for the 1958 Buick “Wells Fargo”.

There was then, in 1958, no company with a better base on which to build a distinctive promotional vehicle for a TV network and Buick custom-made one for Dale Robertson (1923–2013), the star of NBC's western (ie “cowboy”) adventure series Tales of Wells Fargo (1957-1962).  The unique interior features included bucket seats of Danish calfskin with hand-tooled western motif leather inserts (the door panels matching), a then still quite novel centre console (used as a gun-rack), natural calfskin carpeting and flip up door handles while the exterior was in one way (sort of) toned-down, solid walnut panels (not 3M’s Di-Noc vinyl appliqué which had by then replaced timber as the decorative bling on station wagons although they continued to be nick-named “woodies”) replacing the three banks of fake louvers on both sides.  However, to add to the effect, the words “Wells Fargo” appeared on the panels in large chromed letters and to remind everyone of the “western” theme, a longhorn steer's head was superimposed over the standard hood emblem, flipper wheel-covers completing the package.  The highlight though was the armory, (1) a gun rack holding two chrome-plated Winchester lever-action rifles with carved stocks and (2) hand-tooled leather pistol holsters attached to each door, containing a brace of pearl-handled .38 caliber Colt revolvers.  In the America of Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; US president 1953-1961), these handy accessories seem to have attracted no critical comment but then, the dawn of the age of mass shootings was almost a decade away.  Proud of their work, Buick’s PR team toured the country, displaying the car at shows before presenting it to Mr Robertson who drove it for the next three decades-odd.  The car still exists and occasionally appears at collector auctions.

MAGA before its time: 1958 Buick “Wells Fargo”.  The one-off show-car included a 364 cubic inch (6.0 litre) version of Buick's “Nailhead” V8 (with four barrel carburetor) rated at 300 horsepower, “Flight Pitch” Dynaflow automatic transmission, factory air conditioning, “Air Poise” suspension and, of course, a “Fashion-Aire Dynastar Grille”.  For its appearances at auctions, the crowd is informed the Winchester rifles and Colt revolvers are “non functional”.