Enthrone

Enthrone (pronounced en-throhn)

(1) To put on the throne in a formal installation ceremony (sometimes called an enthronement) which variously could be synonymous with (or simultaneously performed with) a coronation or other ceremonies of investiture.

(2) Figuratively in this context, to help a candidate to the succession of a monarchy or by extension in any other major organisation (ie the role of “kingmakers”, literal and otherwise).

(3) To invest with sovereign or episcopal authority (ie a legal instrument separate from any ceremony).

(4) To honour or exalt (now rare except in literary or poetic use).

(5) Figuratively, to assign authority to or vest authority in.

Circa 1600: The construct was en- + throne and the original meaning was “to place on a throne, exalt to the seat of royalty”.  For this purpose it replaced the late fourteenth century enthronize, from the thirteenth century Old French introniser, from the Late Latin inthronizare, from Greek the enthronizein.  In the late fourteenth century the verb throne (directly from the noun) was used in the same sense.  Throne (the chair or seat occupied by a sovereign, bishop or other exalted personage on ceremonial occasions) dates from the late twelfth century and was from the Middle English trone, from the Old French trone, from the Latin thronus, from the Ancient Greek θρόνος (thrónos) (chair, high-set seat, throne).  It replaced the earlier Middle English seld (seat, throne).  In facetious use, as early as the 1920s, throne could mean “a toilet” (used usually in the phrase “on the throne”) and in theology had the special use (in the plural and capitalized) describing the third (a member of an order of angels ranked above dominions and below cherubim) of the nine orders into which the angels traditionally were divided in medieval angelology.  The en- prefix was from the Middle English en- (en-, in-), from the Old French en- (also an-), from the Latin in- (in, into).  It was also an alteration of in-, from the Middle English in-, from the Old English in- (in, into), from the Proto-Germanic in (in).  Both the Latin & Germanic forms were from the primitive Indo-European en (in, into).  The intensive use of the Old French en- & an- was due to confluence with Frankish intensive prefix an- which was related to the Old English intensive prefix -on.  It formed a transitive verb whose meaning is to make the attached adjective (1) in, into, (2) on, onto or (3) covered.  It was used also to denote “caused” or as an intensifier.  The prefix em- was (and still is) used before certain consonants, notably the labials b and p.  Enthrone, dethrone, enthronest & enthronize are verbs, enthronementm, enthronization & enthroner are nouns, enthroning is a noun & verb, enthroned is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is enthronements.  The noun enthronable is non-standard.  The derived forms include the verb unenthrone, reenthrone & disenthrone and although there have been many enthroners, the form enthronee has never existed.

Alhaji Ibrahim Wogorie (b 1967) being enskinned as North Sisala community chief, Ghana, July 2023.

In colonial-era West Africa the coined forms were “enskin” (thus enskinment, enskinning, enskinned) and “enstool” (thus enstoolment, enstooling, enstooled).  These words were used to refer to the ceremonies in which a tribal chief was installed in his role; the meanings thus essentially the same as enjoyed in the West by “enthrone”.  The constructs reflected a mix of indigenous political culture and English morphological adaptation during the colonial period, the elements explained by (1) the animal skins (the distinctive cheetah often mentioned in the reports of contemporary anthropologists although in some Islamic and Sahelian-influenced chieftaincies (including the Dagomba, Mamprusi, Hausa emirates), a cow or lion skin often was the symbol of authority) which often surrounded the new chief and (2) the tradition in Africa of a chief sitting on a stool.  Sometimes, the unfortunate animal’s skin would be laid over the stool (and almost always, one seems to have been laid at the chief’s feet) but in some traditions (notably in northern Ghana and parts of Nigeria) it was a mark of honor for the chief to sit on a skin spread on the ground.

Dr Mahamudu Bawumia (b 1963), enstooled as Nana Ntentankesehene (Chief of the Internet/Web), Ghana, August 2024.  Note the cheetah skin used to trim the chair.

The stool was the central symbol of chieftaincy and kingship among Akan-speaking peoples (still in present-day Ghana where “to enskin” is used generally to mean “to install as a leader of a group” and the constitution (1992) explicitly protects the institution of chieftaincy and judicial decisions routinely use “enstool” or “enskin” (depending on region)).  In Akan political culture, the most famous use was the Sika Dwa Kofi (the Golden Stool) of the Asante and it represented the embodiment of the polity and ancestors, not merely a seat (used rather like the synecdoches “the Pentagon” (for the US Department of Defense (which appears now to be headed by a cabinet office who simultaneously is both Secretary of Defense & Secretary of War)) or “Downing Street” (for the UK prime-minister or the government generally).  Thus, to be “enstooled” is ritually to be placed into office as chief, inheriting the authority vested in the stool.  Enskin & enstool (both of which seem first to have appeared in the records of the Colonial Office in the 1880s and thus were products of the consolidation of British indirect rule in West Africa, rather than being survivals from earlier missionary English which also coined its own terms) were examples of semantic calquing (the English vocabulary reshaped to encode indigenous concepts) and, as it was under the Raj in India, it was practical administrative pragmatism, colonial officials needing precise (and standardized) terms that distinguished between different systems of authority.  In truth, they were also often part of classic colonial “fixes” in which the British would take existing ceremonies and add layers of ritual to afforce the idea of a chief as “their ruler” and within a couple of generations, sometimes the local population would talk of the newly elaborate ceremony as something dating back centuries; the “fix” was a form of constructed double-legitimization.

A classic colonial fix was the Bose Levu Vakaturaga (Great Council of Chiefs) in Fiji which the British administrators created in 1878.  While it's true that prior to European contact, there had been meetings between turaga (tribal chiefs) to settle disputes and for other purposes, all the evidence suggests they were ad-hoc appointments with little of the formality, pomp and circumstance the British introduced.  Still, it was a successful institution which the chiefs embraced, apparently with some enthusiasm because the cloaks and other accoutrements they adopted for the occasion became increasingly elaborate and it was a generally harmonious form of indigenous governance which enabled the British to conduct matters of administration and policy-making almost exclusively through the chiefs.  The council survived even after Fiji gained independence from Britain in 1970 until it was in 2012 abolished by the military government of Commodore Frank Bainimarama (b 1954; prime minister of Fiji 2007-2022), as part of reform programme said to be an attempt to reduce ethnic divisions and promote a unified national identity.  The commodore's political future would be more assured had he learned lessons from the Raj.

There was of course an element of racial hierarchy in all this and “enskin” & “enstool” denoted a “tribal chief” under British rule whereas “enthrone” might have been thought to imply some form of sovereignty because that was the linkage in Europe and that would never do.  What the colonial authorities wanted was to maintain the idea of “the stool” as a corporate symbol, the office the repository of the authority, not the individual.  The danger with using a term like “enthronement” was the population might be infected by the European notion of monarchy as a hereditary kingship with personal sovereignty; what the Europeans wanted was “a stool” and they would decide who would be enstooled, destooled or restooled. 

Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi, Moses Mabhida Stadium, Durban, South Africa, October 2022.

English words and their connotations did continue to matter in the post-colonial world because although the colonizers might have departed, often the legacy of language remained, sometimes as an “official” language of government and administration.  In the 1990s, the office of South Africa’s Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi (1928–2023) sent a series of letters to the world’s media outlets advising he should be styled as “Prince” and not “Chief”, on the basis of being the grandson of one Zulu king and the nephew of another.  The Zulus were once described as a “tribe” and while that reflected the use in ethnography, the appeal in the West was really that it represented a rung on the racist hierarchy of civilization, the preferred model being: white people have nations or states, Africans cluster in tribes or clans.  The colonial administrators recognized these groups had leaders and typically they used the style “chief” (from the Middle English cheef & chef, from the Old French chef & chief (leader), from the Vulgar Latin capus, from the Classical Latin caput (head), from the Proto-Italic kaput, from the primitive Indo-European káput).  As the colonial records make clear, there were “good” chiefs and “troublesome” chiefs, thus the need sometimes to arrange a replacement enstooling.

Unlike in the West where styles of address and orders of precedence were codified (indeed, somewhat fetishized), the traditions in Africa seem to have been more fluid and Mangosuthu Buthelezi didn’t rely on statute or even documented convention when requesting the change.  Instead, he explained “prince” reflected his Zulu royal lineage not only was appropriate (he may have cast an envious eye at the many Nigerian princes) but was also commonly used as his style by South African media, some organs or government and certainly his own Zulu-based political party (IQembu leNkatha yeNkululeko (the IPF; Inkatha Freedom Party).  He had in 1953 assumed the Inkosi (chieftainship) of the Buthelezi clan, something officially recognized four year laters by Pretoria although not until the early 1980s (when it was thought he might be useful as a wedge to drive into the ANC (African National Congress) does the Apartheid-era government seem to have started referring to him as “prince”).  Despite that cynical semi-concession, there was never a formal re-designation.

Enthroned & installed: Lindsay Lohan in acrylic & rhinestone tiara during “prom queen scene” in Mean Girls (2004).

In the matter of prom queens and such, it’s correct to say there has been “an enthronement” because even in the absence of a physical throne (in the sense of “a chair”), the accession is marked by the announcement and the placing of the crown or tiara.  This differs from something like the “enthroning” of a king or queen in the UK because, constitutionally, there is no interregnum, the new assuming the title as the old took their last breath and “enthronement” is a term reserved casually to apply to the coronation.  Since the early twentieth century, the palace and government have contrived to make an elaborate “made for television” ceremony although it has constitutional significance beyond the rituals related to the sovereign’s role as Supreme Governor of the Church of England.

Dame Sarah Mullally in the regalia of Bishop of London; in January 2026, she will take office as Archbishop of Canterbury, the formal installation in March.  No longer one of the world's more desirable jobs (essentially because it can't be done), all wish her the best of British luck.

In October 2025, the matter of enthronement (or, more correctly, non-enthronement) in the Church of England made a brief splash in some of the less explored corners of social media after it was announced the ceremony marking the accession of the next Archbishop of Canterbury would be conducted in Canterbury Cathedral in March 2026.  The announcement was unexceptional in that it was expected and for centuries Archbishops of Canterbury have come and gone (although the last one was declared gone rather sooner than expected) but what attracted some comment was the new appointee was to be “installed” rather than the once traditional “enthroned”.  The conclusion some drew was this apparent relegation was related to the next archbishop being Dame Sarah Mullally (née Bowser; b 1962) the first woman to hold the once desirable job, the previous 105 prelates having been men, the first, Saint Augustine of Canterbury in 597.

However, there is in the church no substantive legal or theological significance in the use of “installed” rather than “enthroned” and the choice reflects modern ecclesiastical practice rather than having any doctrinal or canonical effect.  A person become Archbishop of Canterbury through a sequence of juridical acts and these constitute the decisive legal instruments; ceremonial rites have a symbolic value but nothing more, the power of the office vested from the point at which the legal mechanisms have correctly been executed (in that, things align with the procedures used for the nation’s monarchs).  So the difference is one of tone rather than substance and the “modern” church has for decades sought to distance itself from perceptions it may harbor quasi-regal aspirations or the perpetuation of clerical grandeur and separateness; at least from Lambeth Palace, the preferred model long has been: pastoral; most Church of England bishops have for some times been “installed” in their cathedrals (despite “enthronement” surviving in some press reports, a product likely either of nostalgia or “cut & paste journalism”).  That said, some Anglican provinces outside England still “enthrone” (apparently on the basis “it’s always been done that way” rather than the making of a theological or secular point”).

Lambeth Palace, the Archbishop of Canterbury's official London residence.

Interestingly, Archbishops of York (“the church in the north”) have continued to be enthroned while those at Canterbury became installations.  Under canon law, the wording makes literally no difference and historians have concluded the retention of the older form is clung to for no reason other than “product differentiation”, York Minster often emphasizing their continuity with medieval ceremonial forms; it’s thus a mere cultural artefact, the two ceremonies performing the same liturgical action: seating the archbishop in the cathedra (the chair (throne) of the archbishop).  Because it’s the Archbishop of Canterbury and not York who sits as the “spiritual head of the worldwide Anglican community”, in York there’s probably not the same sensitivity to criticism of continuing with “Romish ways” with the whiff of “popery”.

In an indication of how little the wording matters, it’s not clear who was the last Archbishop of Canterbury who could be said to have been “enthroned” because there was never any differentiation of form in the ceremonies and the documents suggest the terms were used casually and even interchangeably.  What can be said is that Geoffrey Fisher (1887–1972; AoC-99: 1945-1961) was installed at a ceremony widely described (in the official programme, ecclesiastical commentaries and other church & secular publications) as an “enthronement” and that was the term used in the government Gazette; that’s as official an endorsement of the term as seems possible because, being an established church, bishops are appointed by the Crown on the advice of the prime minister although the procedure has at least since 2007 been a “legal fiction” because the church’s CNC (Crown Nominations Commission) sends the names to the prime minister who acts as a “postbox”, forwarding them to the palace for the issuing of letters patent confirming the appointment.  When Michael Ramsey (1904–1988; AoC-100: 1961-1974), was appointed, although the term “enthrone” did appear in press reports, the church’s documents almost wholly seem to have used “install” and since then, in Canterbury, it’s been installations all the way,

Pope Pius XII in triple tiara at his coronation, The Vatican, March, 1939.

So, by the early 1960s the church was responding, if cautiously, to the growing anti-monarchical sentiment in post-war ecclesiology although this does seem to have been a sentiment of greater moment to intellectuals and theologians than parishioners.  About these matters there was however a kind of ecumenical sensitivity emerging and the conciliar theology later was crystallised (if not exactly codified) in the papers of Second Vatican Council (Vatican II, 1962-1965, published 1970).  The comparison with the practice in Rome is interesting because there are more similarities than differences although that is obscured by words like “enthronement” and “coronation” being seemingly embedded in the popular (and journalistic) imagination. That’s perhaps understandable because for two millennia as many as 275 popes (officially the count is 267 but it’s not certain how many there have been because there have been “anti-popes” and allegedly even one woman (although that’s now largely discounted)) have sat “on the throne of Saint Peter” (retrospectively the first pope) so the tradition is long.  In Roman Catholic canon law, “enthronement” is not a juridical term; the universal term is capio sedem (taking possession of the cathedral (ie “installation”)) and, as in England, an appointment is formalized once the legal instruments are complete, the subsequent ceremony, while an important part of the institution’s mystique, exists for the same reason as it does for the Church of England or the House of Windsor: it’s the circuses part of panem et circenses (bread and circuses).  Unlike popes who once had coronations, archbishops of Canterbury never did because they made no claim to temporal sovereignty.

Pope Paul VI in triple tiara at his coronation, The Vatican, June. 1963.  It was the last papal coronation.

So, technically, modern popes are “installed as Bishop of Rome” and in recent decades the Holy See has adjusted the use of accoutrements to dispel any implication of an “enthronement”, the last papal coronation at which a pope was crowned with the triple tiara was that of Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) but in “an act of humility” he removed it, placing it on the on the alter where (figuratively), it has since sat.  Actually, Paul VI setting aside the triple tiara as a symbolic renunciation of temporal and monarchical authority was a bit overdue because the Papal States had been lost to the Holy See with the unification of Italy in 1870 though the Church refused to acknowledge that reality; in protest, no pope for decades set foot outside the Vatican.  However, in the form of the Lateran Treaty (1929), the Holy See entered into a concordat with the Italian state whereby the (1) the Vatican was recognized as a sovereign state and (2) the church was recognized as Italy’s state religion in exchange for which the territorial and political reality was recognized.  Despite that, until 1963 the triple tiara (one tier of which was said to symbolize the pope’s temporal authority over the papal states) appeared in the coronations of Pius XII (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958), John XXIII (1881-1963; pope 1958-1963) and Paul VI (who didn’t formal abolished the rite of papal coronation from the Ordo Rituum pro Ministerii Petrini Initio Romae Episcopi (Order of Rites for the Beginning of the Petrine Ministry of the Bishop of Rome (the liturgical book detailing the ceremonies for a pope's installation)) until 1975.

The Chair of St Augustine.  In church circles, archbishops of Canterbury are sometimes said to "occupy the Chair of St Augustine".

The Chair of St Augustine sits in Canterbury Cathedral but technically, an AoC is “twice installed”: once on the Diocesan throne as the Bishop of the see of Canterbury and also on the Chair of St Augustine as Primate of All England (the nation's first bishop) and spiritual leader of the worldwide Anglican Communion. So, there’s nothing unusual in Sarah Mullally being “installed” rather than “enthroned” as would have been the universal terminology between the reformation and the early twentieth century.  Linguistically, legally and theologically, the choice of words is a non-event and anyone who wishes to describe Dame Sarah as “enthroned” may do so without fear of condemnation, excommunication or a burning at the stake.  What is most likely is that of those few who notice, fewer still are likely to care.

Inkhorn

Inkhorn (pronounced ingk-hawrn)

A small container of horn or other material (the early version would literally have been hollowed-out horns from animals), formerly used to hold writing ink.

1350-1400: From the Middle English ynkhorn & inkehorn (small portable vessel, originally made of horn, used to hold ink), the construct being ink +‎ horn.  It displaced the Old English blæchorn, which had the same literal meaning but used the native term for “ink”.  It was used attributively from the 1540s as an adjective for things (especially vocabulary) supposed to be beloved by scribblers, pedants, bookworms and the “excessively educated”).  Inkhorn, inkhornery & inkhornism are nouns, inkhornish & inkhornesque are adjectives and inkhornize is a verb; the noun plural is inkhorns.

Ink was from the Middle English ynke, from the Old French enque, from the Latin encaustum (purple ink used by Roman emperors to sign documents), from the Ancient Greek ἔγκαυστον (énkauston) (burned-in”), the construct being ἐν (en) (in) + καίω (kaíō) (burn). In this sense, the word displaced the native Old English blæc (ink (literally “black” because while not all inks were black, most tended to be).  Ink came ultimately from a Greek form meaning “branding iron”, one of the devices which should make us grateful for modern medicine.  Because, in addition to using the kauterion to cauterize (seal wounds with heat), essentially the same process was used to seal fast the colors used in paintings.  Then, the standard method was to use wax colors fixed with heat (encauston (burned in)) and in Latin this became encaustum which came to be used to describe the purple ink with which Roman emperors would sign official documents.  In the Old French, encaustum became enque which English picked up as enke & inke which via ynk & ynke, became the modern “ink”.  Horn was from the Middle English horn & horne, from the Old English horn, from the Proto-West Germanic horn, from the Proto-Germanic hurną; it was related to the West Frisian hoarn, the Dutch hoorn, the Low German Hoorn, horn, the German, Danish & Swedish horn and the Gothic haurn.  It was ultimately from the primitive Indo-European ḱr̥h-nó-m, from ḱerh- (head, horn) and should be compared with the Breton kern (horn), the Latin cornū, the Ancient Greek κέρας (kéras), the Proto-Slavic sьrna, the Old Church Slavonic сьрна (sĭrna) (roedeer), the Hittite surna (horn), the Persian سر (sar) and the Sanskrit शृङ्ग (śṛṅga) (horn

Inkhorn terms & inkhorn words

The phrase “inkhorn term” days from the 1530s and was used to criticize the use of language in an obscure or way difficult for most to understand, usually by an affected or ostentatiously erudite borrowing from another language, especially Latin or Greek.  The companion term “inkhorn word” was used of such individual words and in modern linguistics the whole field is covered by such phrases as “lexiphanic term”, “pedantic term” & “scholarly term”, all presumably necessary now inkhorns are rarely seen.  Etymologists are divided on the original idea behind the meaning of “inkhorn term” & “inkhorn word”.  One faction holds that because the offending words tended to be long or at least multi-syllabic, a scribe would need more than once to dip their nib into the horn in order completely write things down while the alternative view is that because the inkhorn users were, by definition, literate, they were viewed sometimes with scepticism, one suspicion they used obscure or foreign words to confuse or deceive the less educated.  The derived forms are among the more delightful in English and include inkhornism, inkhornish, inkhornery inkhornesque & inkhornize.  The companion word is sesquipedalianism (a marginal propensity to use humongous words).

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

Inkhorn words were in the fourteenth & fifteenth centuries known also as “gallipot words”, derived from the use of such words on apothecaries' jars, the construct being galli(s) + pot.  Gallis was from the Latin gallus (rooster or cock (male chicken)), from the Proto-Italic galsos, an enlargement of gl̥s-o-, zero-grade of the primitive Indo-European gols-o-, from gelh- (to call); it can be compared with the Proto-Balto-Slavic galsas (voice), the Proto-Germanic kalzōną (to call), the Albanian gjuhë (tongue; language), and (although this is contested) the Welsh galw (call).  Appearing usually in the plural a gallipot word was something long, hard to pronounce, obscure or otherwise mysterious, the implication being it was being deployed gratuitously to convey the impression of being learned.  The companion insult was “you talk like an apothecary” and “apothecary's Latin” was a version of the tongue spoken badly or brutishly (synonymous with “bog Latin” or “dog Latin” but different from “schoolboy Latin” & “barracks Latin”, the latter two being humorous constructions, the creators proud of their deliberate errors).  The curious route which led to “gallipot” referencing big words was via the rooster being the symbol used by apothecaries in medieval and Renaissance Europe, appearing on their shop signs, jars & pots.  That was adopted by the profession because the rooster symbolized vigilance, crowing (hopefully) at dawn, signaling the beginning of the day and thus the need for attentiveness and care.  Apothecaries, responsible for preparing and dispensing medicinal remedies, were expected to be vigilant and attentive to detail in their work to ensure the health and well-being of their patients who relied on their skill to provided them the potions to “get them up every morning” in sound health.  Not all historians are impressing by the tale and say a more convincing link is that in Greek mythology, the rooster was sacred to Asclepius (Aesdulapius in the Latin), the god of medicine, and was often depicted in association with him.  In some tales, Asclepius had what was, even by the standards of the myths of Antiquity, a difficult birth and troubled childhood.

The quest for the use of “plain English” is not new.  The English diplomat and judge Thomas Wilson (1524–1581) wrote The Arte of Rhetorique (1553), remembered as the “the first complete works on logic and rhetoric in English” and in it he observed the first lesson to be learned was never to affect “any straunge ynkhorne termes, but to speak as is commonly received.”  Wring a decade earlier, the English bishop John Bale (1495–1563) had already lent an ecclesiastical imprimatur to the task, condemning one needlessly elaborate text with: “Soche are your Ynkehorne termes” and that may be the first appearance of the term in writing.  A religious reformer of some note, he was nicknamed “bilious Bale”, a moniker which politicians must since have been tempted to apply to many reverend & right-reverend gentlemen.  A half millennium on, the goal of persuading all to use “plain English” is not yet achieved and a fine practitioner of the art was Dr Kevin Rudd (b 1957; Australian prime-minister 2007-2010 & 2013): from no one else would one be likely to hear the phrase “detailed programmatic specificity” and to really impress he made sure he spoke it to an audience largely of those for whom English was not a first language.

An inkhorn attributed to Qes Felege, a scribe and craftsman.

Animal horns were for millennia re-purposed for all sorts of uses including as drinking vessels, gunpowder stores & loaders, musical instruments and military decoration and in that last role they’ve evolved into a political fashion statement, Jacob Chansley (b 1988; the “QAnon Shaman”) remembered for the horned headdress worn during the attack on the United States Capitol building in Washington DC on 6 January 2021.  Inkhorns tended variously to be made from the horns of sheep or oxen, storing the ink when not as use and ideal as a receptacle into which the nib of a quill or pen could be dipped.  Given the impurities likely then to exist a small stick or nail was left in the horn to stir away any surface film which might disrupts a nib’s ability to take in free-flowing ink, most of which were not pre-packaged products by mixed by the user from a small solid “cake” of the base substance in the desired color, put into the horn with a measure starchy water and left overnight to dissolve.  The sharp point of a horn allowed it to be driven into the ground because the many scribes were not desk-bound and actually travelled from place to place to do their writing, quill and inkhorn their tools of trade.

A mid-Victorian (1837-1901) silver plated three-vat inkwell by George Richards Elkington (1801–1865) of Birmingham, England.  The cast frame is of a rounded rectangular form with outset corners, leaf and cabuchons, leaf scroll handle and conforming pen rest.  The dealer offering this piece described the vats as being of "Vaseline" glass with fruit cast lids and in the Elkington factory archives, this is registered: "8 Victoria Chap 17. No. 899, 1 November 1841".

“Vaseline glass” is a term describing certain glasses in a transparent yellow to yellow-green color attained by virtue of a uranium content.  It's an often used descriptor in the antique business because some find the word “uranium” off-putting although inherently the substance is safe, the only danger coming from being scratched by a broken shard.  Also, some of the most vivid shades of green are achieved by the addition of a colorant (usually iron) and these the cognoscenti insist should be styled “Depression Glass” a term which has little appeal to antique dealers.  The term “Vaseline glass” wasn’t used prior to the 1950s (after the detonation of the first A-bombs in 1945, there emerged an aversion to being close to uranium) and what's used in this inkwell may actually be custard glass or Burmese glass which is opaque whereas Vaseline glass is transparent.  Canary glass was first used in the 1840s as the trade name for Vaseline glass, a term which would have been unknown to George Richards Elkington.

English silver plate horn and dolphin inkwell (circa 1909) with bell, double inkwell on wood base with plaque dated 1909.  This is an inkwell made using horns; it is not an inkhorn.

So inkhorns were for those on the move while those which sat on desks were called “ink wells” or “ink pots” and these could range from simple “pots” to elaborate constructions in silver or gold.  There are many ink wells which use horns as part of their construction but they are not inkhorns, the dead animal parts there just as decorative forms of structure.

Dr Rudolf Steiner’s biodynamic cow horn fertilizer.

Horns are also a part of the “biodynamic” approach to agriculture founded by the Austrian occultist & mystic Rudolf Steiner (1861-1925), an interesting figure regarded variously as a “visionary”, a “nutcase” and much between.  The technique involves filling cow horns with cow manure which are buried during the six coldest months so the mixture will ferment; upon being dug up, it will be a sort of humus which has lost the foul smell of the manure and taken on a scent of undergrowth.  It may then be used to increase the yield generated from the soil.  It’s used by being diluted with water and sprayed over the ground.  Dr Steiner believed the forces penetrating the digestive organ of cows through the horn influence the composition of their manure and when returned to the environment, it is enriched with spiritual forces that make the soil more fertile and positively affect it.  As he explained: “The cow has horns to send within itself the etheric-astral productive forces, which, by pressing inward, have the purpose of penetrating directly into the digestive organ. It is precisely through the radiation from horns and hooves that a lot of work develops within the digestive organ itself.  So in the horns, we have something well-adapted, by its nature, to radiate the vital and astral properties in the inner life.”  Now we know.

Customer

Customer (pronounced kuhs-tuhm-ah)

(1) A habitual patron, regular purchaser, returning client; one who has a custom of buying from a particular business (obsolete in its technical sense).

(2) A patron, a client; one who purchases or receives a product or service from a business or merchant, or intends to do so.

(3) In various slang forms (cool customer, tough customer, ugly customer, customer from hell, dream customer etc), a person, especially one engaging in some sort of interaction with others.

(4) Under the Raj, a native official who exacted customs duties (historic use from British colonial India).

Late 1300s: From the Middle English customere & custommere (one who purchases goods or supplies, one who customarily buys from the same tradesman or guild), from custumer (customs official, toll-gatherer), from the Anglo-French custumer, from the Old French coustumier & costumier (from which modern French gained coutumier (customary, custumal)), from the Medieval Latin noun custumarius (a toll-gatherer, tax-collector), a back-formation from the adjective custumarius (pertaining to custom or customs) from custuma (custom, tax).  The literal translation of the Medieval Latin custumarius was “pertaining to a custom or customs”, a contraction of the Latin consuetudinarius, from consuetudo (habit, usage, practice, tradition).  The generalized sens of “a person with whom one has dealings” emerged in the 1540s while that of “a person to deal with” (then as now usually with some defining adjective: “tough customer”, difficult customer” etc) was in use by the 1580s.  Derived terms are common including customer account, customer base, customer care, customer experience, customer-oriented, customer research, customer resistance, customer service, customer success, customer support, direct-to-customer, customer layer, customer-to-customer, ugly customer, tough customer, difficult customer etc.  Customer is a noun; the noun plural is customers.

William Shakespeare (1564–1616) used the word sometimes to mean “prostitute” and in his work was the clear implication that a buyer was as guilty as the seller, the law both unjust and hypocritical, something which in the twentieth century would be rectified in Swedish legislation.

Shakespeare: All's Well That Ends Well (circa 1602), Act 5, scene 3

LAFEW:  This woman’s an easy glove, my lord; she goes off and on at pleasure.

KING: This ring was mine. I gave it his first wife.

DIANA: It might be yours or hers for aught I know.

KING (to attendants) Take her away. I do not like her now.  To prison with her, and away with him. Unless thou tell’st me where thou hadst this ring, Thou diest within this hour.

DIANA: I’ll never tell you.

KING: Take her away.

DIANA: I’ll put in bail, my liege.

KING: I think thee now some common customer.

DIANA (to Bertram): By Jove, if ever I knew man, ’twas you.

In Sweden, the law was amended in a way of which Shakespeare might have approved, Chapter 6, Section 11 of the Swedish Penal Code making it an offence to pay for sex, the act of “purchasing sexual services” criminalized, the aim being to reduce the demand for prostitution.  The law provides for fines or a maximum term of imprisonment for one year, depending on the circumstances of the case.  So selling sexual services is not unlawful in Sweden but being a customer is, an inversion of the model for centuries applied in the West.  Individuals who engage in prostitution are not criminalized under Swedish law, which is intended to protect sex workers from legal penalties while targeting the customers, now defined as those who “exploit them”.  The Swedish model aims to reduce prostitution by focusing on the demand side and providing support for those who wish to exit prostitution and as a statement of public policy, the law reform reflected the government’s view prostitution was a form of gender inequality and exploitation.  The effectiveness of the measure has over the years been debated and the customer-focused model of enforcement has not widely been emulated.

The customer is always right

Reliable return customer: Lindsay Lohan in the Chanel Shop, New York City, May 2013.

The much quoted phrase (which in some areas of commerce is treated as a proverb): “the customer is always right” has its origins in retail commerce and is used to encapsulate the value: “service staff should give high priority to customer satisfaction”.  It is of course not always literally true, the point being that even when patently wrong about something, it is the customer who is paying for stuff so they should always be treated as if they are right.  Money being the planet’s true lingua franca, variations exist in many languages, the best known of which is the French le client n'a jamais tort (the customer is never wrong), the slogan of Swiss hotelier César Ritz (1850-1918) whose name lived on in the Hôtel Ritz in Paris, the Ritz and Carlton Hotels in London and the Ritz-Carlton properties dotted around the world.  While not always helpful for staff on the shop floor, it’s an indispensible tool for those basing product manufacturing or distribution decisions on aggregate demand.  To these counters of beans, what is means is that if there is great demand for red widgets and very little for yellow widgets, the solution probably is not to commission an advertising campaign for yellow widgets but to increase production of the red, while reducing or even ceasing runs of the yellow.  The customer is “right” in what they want, not in the sense of “right & wrong” but in the sense of their demand being the way to work out what is the “right” thing to produce because it will sell.

Available at Gullwing Motor Cars: Your choice at US$129,500 apiece.

The notion of “the customer is always right” manifests in the market for pre-modern Ferraris (a pre-1974 introduction the accepted cut-off).  While there nothing unusual about differential demand in just about any market sector, dramatically is it illustrated among pre-modern Ferraris with some models commanding prices in multiples of others which may be rarer, faster, better credentialed or have a notionally more inviting specification.  That can happen when two different models are of much the same age and in similar condition but a recent listing by New York-based Gullwing Motor Cars juxtaposed two listings which left no doubt where demand exists.  The two were both from 1972: a 365 GTC/4 and a Dino 246 GT.

Some reconditioning required: 1972 Ferrari 356 GTC/4

The 365 GTC/4 was produced for two years between 1971-1972 during which 505 were built.  Although now regarded as a classic of the era, the 365 GTC/4 lives still in the shadow of the illustrious 365 GTB/4 with which, mechanically, it shares much.  The GTB/4 picked up the nickname “Daytona”, an opportunistic association given 1-2-3 finish in the 1967 24 Hours of Daytona involved three entirely different models while the GTC/4 enjoyed only the less complementary recognition of being labeled by some il gobbone (the hunchback) or quello alla banana (the banana one).  It was an unfair slight and under the anyway elegant skin, the GTB/4 & GTC/4 shared much, the engine of the latter differing mainly in lacking the dry-sump lubrication, the use of six twin-choke side-draft Weber carburetors rather than the downdrafts, this permitting a lower hood (bonnet) line and a conventionally mounted gearbox rather than the the Daytona's rear transaxle.  Revisions to the cylinder heads allowed the V12 to be tuned to deliver torque across a broad rev-range rather than the focus on top-end power which was one of the things which made the Daytona so intoxicating.

Criticizing the GTC/4 because it doesn’t quite have the visceral appeal of the GTB/4 seems rather like casually dismissing the model who managed only to be runner-up to Miss Universe.  The two cars anyway, despite sharing a platform, were intended for different purposes, the GTB/4 an outright high performance road car which could, with relatively few modifications, be competitive in racing whereas the GTC/4 was a grand tourer, even offering occasional rear seating for two (short) people.  One footnote in the history of the marque is the GTC/4 was the last Ferrari offered with the lovely Borrani triple-laced wire wheels; some GTB/4s had them fitted by the factory and a few more were added by dealers but the factory advised that with increasing weight, tyres with much superior grip and higher speeds, they were no longer strong enough in extreme conditions and the cast aluminum units should be used if the car was to be run in environments without speed restrictions such as race tracks or certain de-restricted public roads (then seen mostly in the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany) 1949-1990), Montana & Nevada in the US and Australia's Northern Territory & outback New South Wales (NSW)).  The still stunning GTB/4 was the evolutionary apex of its species; it can't be improved upon but the GTC/4 is no ugly sister and when contemplating quello alla banana, one might reflect on the sexiness of the fruit.

Gullwing’s offering was described as “a highly original unrestored example in Marrone Colorado (Metallic Brown) with a tan leather interior, factory air conditioning, and power windows; showing 48K miles (77K kilometres) on the odometer.  It has been sitting off the road for several years and is not currently running.”  It was certainly highly original and seemed complete but properly should be regarded as a “project” because of the uncertainty about the extent (and thus the cost) of the recommissioning.  At an asking price of US$129,500, it would represent good value only if it was mechanically sound and no unpleasant surprises were found under the body’s shapely curves although, given the market for 365 GTC/4s in good condition, it was a project best taken on by a specialist.

Some assembly required: 1972 Dino 246 GT by Ferrari

The days are gone when the Dino 246 was dismissed as “more of a Fiat than a Ferrari” and even if the factory never put their badge on the things (although plenty subsequently have added one), they are now an accepted part of the range.  The 246 replaced the visually almost similar but slightly smaller and even more jewel-like Dino 206, 152 of which (with an all-aluminium 2.0 litre (122 cubic inch) V6 rather than the V12s which had for some years been de rigueur in Ferrari’s road cars) were built between 1967-1969, all with berlinetta (coupé) bodywork.  Mass-produced by comparison, there were 3569 Dino 246s produced between 1969-1974, split between 2,295 246 GTs (coupés) & 1,274 246 GTSs (spyders (targa)).  Fitted with an iron-block 2.4 litre (147 cubic inch) V6, the Dinos were designed deliberately to be cheaper to produce and thus enjoy a wider market appeal, the target those who bought the more expensive Porsche 911s, a car the Dino (mostly) out-performed.  In recent decades, the Dino 246 has been a stellar performer in the collector market, selling typically for three times the price of something like a 365 GTC/4; people drawn to the seductive lines rather than the significantly better fuel consumption.

Most coveted of the 246s are those described with the rhyming colloquialism “chairs and flares” (C&F to the Ferrari cognoscenti), a reference to a pair of (separately available) options available on later production Dino 246s.  The options were (1) seats with inserts (sometimes in a contrasting color) in the style used on the Daytona & (2) wider Campagnolo Elektron wheels (which the factory only ever referred to by size) which necessitated flared wheel-arches.  At a combined US$795.00 (in 1974), the C&F combination has proved a good investment, now adding significantly to the price of the anyway highly collectable Dino.  Although it's hard to estimate the added value because so many other factors influence calculation, all else being equal, the premium is usually between US$100-200,000 but these things are always relative; in 1974 the C&F option added 5.2% to a Dino GTS's list price and was just under a third the cost of a new small car such as the Chevrolet Vega.  It was a C&F Dino 246 GTS which in 1978 was found buried in a Los Angeles where it had sat for some four years after being secreted away in what turned out to be an unplanned twist to a piece of insurance fraud.  In remarkably good condition (something attributed to its incarceration being during one of California’s many long droughts), it was fully restored.

Not in such good condition is the post-incineration Dino 246 GT (not a C&F) being offered by Gullwing Motor Cars, the asking price the same US$129,500 as the 365 GTC/4.  Also built in 1972, Gullwing helpfully describe this as “a project”, probably one of history’s less necessary announcements.  The company couldn’t resist running the title “Too Hot to Handle” and described the remains as “…an original car that has been completely burnt.  Originally born in Marrone Colorado with beige leather.  It comes with its clear matching title and this car clearly needs complete restoration, but the good news is that it's certainly the cheapest one you will ever find.  The Dino market is hot and shows no signs of cooling. An exciting opportunity to own an iconic 246GT Dino. This deal is on fire!”  It’s still (technically) metal and boasts the prized “matching numbers” (ie the body, engine & gearbox are all stamped with the serial numbers which match the factory records) so there’s that but whether, even at the stratospheric prices Dinos often achieve, the economics of a restoration (that may be the wrong word) can be rationalized would need to be calculated by experts.  As with the 365 GTC/4, Gullwing may be amenable to offers but rather that the customer always being right, this one needs "the right customer".

Aggregate demand: The highly regarded auction site Bring-a-Trailer (BAT, their origin being a clearing house for “projects” although most were less challenging than Gullwing’s Dino) publishes auction results (including “reserve not met” no-sales) and the outcomes demonstrate how much the market lusts for Dinos.  BAT also has a lively comments section for each auction and more than once a thread had evolved to discuss the seeming incongruity of the prices achieved by Dinos compared with the rarer Berlinetta Boxer (365 GT4 BB, BB 512 & BB 512i) (1973-1984) which was when new much more expensive, faster and, of course, a genuine twelve cylinder Ferrari.  In such markets however, objective breakdowns of specifications and specific performance are not what decide outcomes: The customer is always right.

Digging up: The famous "buried" 1974 Dino 246 GTS, being extracted, Los Angeles, 1978 (left) and the body tag of a (never buried) 1974 Dino 246 GTS.  While it's true the factory never put a "Ferrari badge" on the Dino 206 & 246 (nor did one appear on the early Dino 308s) the Ferrari name does appear on the tags and some parts.  Gullwing's Dino would be a more challenging "project" and even with today's inflated values, the financial viability of a restoration might be dubious. 

Although it's in recent years the prices paid for the things sharply have spiked, the lure of the Dino is not a recent thing.  In 1978, a 1974 246 GTS was discovered buried in a Los Angeles yard and it transpired it was on the LAPD’s (Los Angeles Police Department) long list of stolen vehicles.  The department’s investigators concluded the burial had been a “rush job” because while it had been covered with carpets and some plastic sheeting in an inexpert attempt to preserve it from the sub-terrain, one window had been left slightly open.  Predictably, the back-story was assumed to be an “insurance scam”, the owner allegedly hiring two “contractors” to “make it disappear” in a manner consistent with car theft, hardly an unusual phenomenon in Los Angeles.  The plan was claimed to be for the Dino to be broken up with all non-traceable (ie not with serial numbers able to be linked to a specific vehicle) parts on-sold with whatever remained to be dumped “somewhere off the coast”.  In theory, the scamming owner would bank his check (cheque) from Farmers Insurance while the “contractors” would keep their “fee for service” plus whatever profits they realized from their “parting-out” which, even at the discount which applies to “fenced” stolen goods, would have been in the thousands; a win-win situation, except for the insurance company and, ultimately, everyone who pays premiums.

Dug Up: The 'buried" Dino after restoration.  Two of the Campagnolo wheels are said to be original and the 14 x 7½ wheels & fender flares combo was at the time a US$680.00 (about a third the cost of a new, small car); their presence can now add US$100,000 to a 246's value so they proved a reasonable investment.

However, it’s said that when driving the Dino, the hired pair found it so seductive they decided to keep it, needing only somewhere to conceal it until they could concoct another plan.  Thus the hasty burial but for whatever reason (the tales differ), they never returned to reclaim the loot and four years later the shallow automotive grave was uncovered after a “tip-off” from a “snitch” (tales of children finding it while “playing in the dirt” an urban myth.  The matter of insurance fraud was of course pursued but no charges were laid because police could not discover who had done the burial and rather than being scraped and “parted-out” (this time lawfully) as might have been expected, the Dino was sold and restored.  That was possible because it was in surprisingly good condition after its four years in a pit, something accounted for by (1) the low moisture content of the soil, (2) the degree of protection afforded by the covers placed at the time of burial and (3) its time underground coinciding with one of the prolonged droughts which afflict the area.  So, although Dino values were not then what they became, purchased at an attractive price (a reputed US$9000), it was in good enough shape for a restoration to be judged financially viable and it was “matching numbers” (#0786208454-#355468) although that had yet become a fetish.  The car remains active to this day, still with the Californian licence plate “DUG UP”.

Sandra West with her 1964 Ferrari 330 America.

Cars (for fraudulent purposes being buried or otherwise secreted away is a not uncommon practice (some have even contained a dead body or two) but there’s at least one documented case of an individual being, in accordance with a clause in their will, buried in their Ferrari.  Sandra West (née Hara, 1939-1977) became a Beverly Hills socialite after marrying Texas oil millionaire and securities trader Ike West (1934-1968) and as well as jewels and fur coats (then socially acceptable evening wear), she developed a fondness for Ferraris.  Her husband died “in murky circumstances” in a room of the Flamingo Hotel in Las Vegas and while the details of his demise at a youthful 33 seem never to have been published, he had a history of drug use and “health issues” related to his frequent and rapid fluctuations in weight.  His widow inherited some US$5 million (then a considerable fortune) so the LA gossip columnists adjusted their entries from “Mrs West” to “Sandra West, Beverly Hills Socialite and Heiress”.  Her widowed life seems not to have been untroubled and her death in 1977 was certainly drug-related although sources differ about whether it was an overdose of some sort or related to the injuries she’d suffered in an earlier car accident.

Sandra West's burial.  The legal proceedings related to the contested "burial clause" had been well publicized and the ceremony attracted a large crowd.

She left more than one will but a judge ultimately found one to be valid and it included a clause stating she must be buried “…in my lace nightgown … and in my Ferrari with the seat slanted comfortably.”  Accordingly, after a two month delay caused by her brother contesting the “burial clause”, Mrs West’s appropriately attired body was prepared while the Ferrari was sent (under armed guard) by train to Texas where the two were united for their final journey.  Car and owner were then encased in a sturdy timber box measuring 3 metres (10 feet) x 2.7 m (9 feet) x 5.8 m (19 feet) which was transported by truck to San Antonio for the ceremony, conducted on 4 May 1977 in the Alamo Masonic Cemetery (chartered in 1848, the Ancient Free and Accepted Masons in 1854 purchased this property because of the need for a burial ground for Freemasons).  It was an unusual ceremony in that a crane was used carefully to lower the crate into an obviously large grave while to deter “body snatchers” (who would be interested in exhuming car rather than corpse), a Redi-mix truck was on-hand to entomb the box in a thick layer of concrete.  In a nice touch, her grave lies alongside that of her husband and has been on the itinerary of more than one tourist operator running sightseeing tours.  Mrs West owned three Ferraris and it’s not clear in which her body was laid; while most reports claim it was her blue, 1964 330 America (s/n 5055), some mention it as a 250 GTE but 330 America #5055 has not since re-appeared (pre-modern Ferraris carefully are tracked) so that is plausible and reputedly it was “her favourite”.  Inevitably (perhaps sniffing the whiff of a Masonic plot), conspiracy theorists have long pointed out the only documentary evidence is of “a large crate” being lowered into the grave with no proof of what was at the time within.  However, given burial clause was ordered enforceable by a court, it should be assumed that under the remarkably plain gravestone which gives no indication of the unusual event, rests a Ferrari of some tipo.