Estate

Estate (pronounced ih-steyt)

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

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

(3) In law, property or possessions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(13) Pomp or state (obsolete).

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

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

(16) To bestow upon (obsolete).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Estate cars

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

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

1950 Ford Country Squire.

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

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

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

1961 Chrysler New Yorker Town & Country Wagon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Citroën CX Loadrunner by Tissier.

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

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

Bombast & Bluster

Bombast (pronounced bom-bast)

(1) Speech deemed pompous for the occasion or context; pretentious or grandiloquent language.

(2) Cotton or cotton wool (archaic).

(3) Cotton, or any soft, fibrous material, used as stuffing for garments or upholstery; padding.

1560-1570: A corruption of the earlier bombase (raw cotton), from the Old French bombace (cotton, cotton wadding), from the from the Medieval Latin bombācem, accusative of the Late Latin bombāx (cotton; linteorum aut aliae quaevis quisquiliae (towels or any other rubbish (rags))), a corrupted variant use of bombyx (silk; silkworm (which in Medieval Greek came to mean “cotton”)), from the Ancient Greek βόμβυξ (bómbux) (silkworm) and perhaps connected with both certain oriental words and the Middle Persian pambak (cotton), possibly related to a primitive Indo-European root meaning “to twist, wind”.  From the same source came the Swedish bomull, the Danish bomuld (cotton) and, (via Turkish forms), the Modern Greek mpampaki, the Rumanian bumbac and the Serbo-Croatian pamuk.  The German Baumwolle (cotton) is thought likely to be the Latin word altered by folk-etymology to look like “tree wool”.  Both the Lithuanian bovelna and the Polish bawełna are partial translations from the German.  The earliest known appearance in print of the adjective bombastic was in 1704.  The synonyms include fustian, grandiloquence, purple prose, overblown, pretentious and the now obsolete aureation.  Bombast is a noun, verb & adjective, bombaster & bombastry are nouns, bombastic & bombastical are adjectives and bombastically is an adverb; the noun plural is bombasts.

In English, the word “bombase” was used of raw cotton as early as the 1550s and the sense of “stuffing and padding for clothes or upholstery” would have begun as the verbal shorthand of tailors, seamstresses and artisans making clothing, furniture and such.  Remarkably quickly, the idea of what was done with chairs and garments (padding them out) was co-opted to mean “pompous, empty speech”, that sense in use as early as the 1580s.  The idea was just as cotton (soft, loose, insubstantial) was used to “swell” clothing or upholstery to provide the illusion of something more substantial, so it was used of speech and writing judged as “swollen by extravagant sentiments and expressions which add nothing to the meaning”.  The old press baron Lord Beaverbrook (Max Aitken, 1879-1964) used the term “highfalutin nonsense” whenever he detected bombast in anything his editors were proposing to publish.

Volkswagen Super Beetle Cabriolet by Karmann: 1978 (left) & 1977 (right).  The taillights were dubbed "elephant's feet" and were that large to comply with US regulations which demanded certain dimensions and luminosity from both the rear and side-views.  They proved popular with third-party builders, especially those in "neo-classical" business making bodies using the motifs of the inter-war years.  Some cars are described as "bombastic" (a view one suspects based often on perceptions of the typical owner) but that was never applied to the modest Beetle.  There was though much bombast in the soft-top which to this day remains one of the industry's most impressive.  

Shaming what UK manufacturers offered even in their more expensive ranges, classic Volkswagen Type 1 (Beetle 1938-2003) Cabriolets manufactured between 1949-1980 by coachbuilder Karmann featured a commendably heavy, weatherproof, multi-layered folding soft-top roof.  An intricate construction of structural steel, shaped timber members, vinyl and safety glass, the bombast was a rubberized horsehair (with some later variants).  Close to two inches (50 mm) thick and affording what was by convertible standards outstanding sound insulation and weather-proofing, the factory used a “sandwich” design in which the materials were arrayed in three distinct functional layers: (1) The outer layer originally was a heavy-duty Pinpoint vinyl (a two-ply composite featuring a PVC (Polyvinyl chloride) with a cotton sateen inner backing) although there was for years the option of canvas and Mohair and canvas was used for the later runs.  (2) The bombast was the “insulation padding”, a thick matting originally only of rubberized horsehair although this later was augmented by a reinforcing of coconut fibre and burlap with late build examples switching to a dense, foam rubber. (3) The headliner (inner layer) was a soft-to-touch, full-length inner canopy that hid the mechanism, emulating the look in a closed vehicle; it was made from either perforated vinyl (usually white or off-white) or a cotton-mohair fabric.  Unlike many convertibles in the era (including Rolls-Royce and Mercedes-Benz which used discoloration-prone Perspex), the Karmann cabriolets included a solid frame holding a tempered safety glass window and from 1968 this included a integrated electric defroster wire grid.

Also by extension, “fustian” was used as a synonym, that being a type of cloth that lend garments a “stiff expansive character”, the similarity to “fuss” & “fuss” thought to have added to the appeal.  In English, “fustian” proved adaptable.  Originally, it was a coarse fabric made from cotton and flax but in modern use, while the texture is emulated, it’s now usually made with twilled wool, cotton or a cotton-linen blend.  The nature of the fabric made it suitable for furnishings such as bedspreads and many garments including skirts, coats and jackets and a specific variant with a short pile (almost always in sombre shades) is used still for menswear.  The noun fustian was from the Middle English fustian (of the fabric), from the Old French fustaine & fustaigne (persisting in modern French as futaine), from the Medieval Latin fūstāneum, from the (pannus) fūstāneus or the (tela) fūstānea, thought to be a reference to “Fustat, locality of Cairo” although this is contested.  Fustat (Al-Fustat) became the first Islamic capital of Egypt and its outgrowth was the origin of modern Cairo.  In commerce, the use of fustian (based on the texture rather than the materials) extended to a whole class of fabrics including corduroy and velveteen and there was also the now rarely seen alcoholic concoction so named (also in older guides as “rum fustian”).  That was a hot drink made variously with beer, gin, sherry or white wine (and often probably what conveniently fell to hand) to which was added egg yolk, lemon and spices (doubtlessly there were many variations).  There has been speculation about how the drink picked up the fabric’s name with suggestions including something to do the color or the nature of the mix being “rough”.  Fustianists & fustianism are nouns, fustianize is a verb and fustianed is an adjective; the noun plural is fustianists.

That literary use is thought likely based on fustian fabrics being used to make cushions, pillowcases (ie things associated with “padding or stuffing), the adjectival use in literature an attributive figurative use of the noun; it suggested (usually disapprovingly) words were inflated, pompous or pretentious (ie bombastic) and there was as late as the mid-seventeenth century the parallel sense of “incoherent or unintelligible speech or writing; gibberish, nonsense”.  Literary critics (a most judgmental lot), of course liked to apply “fustian” to anything they deemed “a bit too purple” and probably, at least mentally, kept lists of offenders but poets and authors could be just as bitchy about their literary colleagues, although Alexander Pope’s (1688-1744) Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot (1735) was a tribute to his subject’s many achievements and a memorial of their friendship, prompted by the news the physician John Arbuthnot (circa 1667–1735) was on his death-bed:

The bard whom pilfer'd pastorals renown,
Who turns a Persian tale for half a crown,
Just writes to make his barrenness appear,
And strains, from hard-bound brains, eight lines a year:
He, who still wanting, though he lives on theft,
Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing left:
And he, who now to sense, now nonsense leaning,
Means not, but blunders round about a meaning:
And he, whose fustian's so sublimely bad,
It is not poetry, but prose run mad:

Although the use of “he” does suggest Pope may have had in mind a certain writer, scholars believe he was presenting a sequence of composite caricatures of the kinds of “bad poets” he thought were a plague on the language, their sins including plagiarism, being shameless translators for hire, being so muddle-minded as never to attain meaning and producing lines so inflated (fustian) that they ceased even to be “bad poetry” and became “manic prose”.  As was at the time wise for satirists, Pope often deliberately would avoid explicitly identifying his targets although knowing readers would have seen through the thin disguises; “reading between the lines” as useful then as it is now in certain countries, some even “democracies”.  His views on the use of language are however crustal clear and “sublimely bad” is a fine phrase, suggesting a writer's failures might be so spectacularly ghastly they achieve a kind of perverse grandeur, the notion he would, three years hence, return to in the mock critical treatise Peri Bathous or, Of the Art of Sinking in Poetry (1728).  In that, he assured readers he would “…lead them as it were by the hand… the gentle downhill way to Bathos; the bottom, the end, the central point the non plus ultra [nothing further beyond], of true Modern Poesy!”  Unfortunately, by the twentieth century and beyond, students of the “sublime in the ridiculous” had become victims of “the curse of plenty” but Pope can’t be blamed for that; he did his bit.

The literary term bathos (from the Ancient Greek βάθος (bathos) (depth) is used of types of writing which may include the bombastic.  Bathos is attained when a striving at the sublime, over-reaches and “topples into the absurd”, a classic collection of the bathetic was published in The Stuffed Owl (1930), compiled by the English authors Dominic Bevan “D.B.” Wyndham Lewis (1891–1969) & Charles James Lee (1870–1956).  Lewis should not be confused with the English painter, writer & critic (Percy) Wyndham Lewis (1882-1957), best remembered for his seminal contribution to short-lived Vorticist movement in art that was extinguished by the blast of World War I (1914-1918).  Although the usual suspects from poetaster’s (bad poets) role of infamy appear in The Stuffed Owl including the American Julia Ann Moore (1847–1920) and Scotland’s notoriously inept William McGonagall (1825-1902), Lewis & Lee didn’t defer to reputations or the canon and among the entries were lines by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809–1892), William Wordsworth (1770–1850), Lord Byron (1788–1824), John Dryden (1631–1700), Robert "Rabbie" Burns (1759–1796) and Robert Browning (1812–1889). Curiously, while the noun bombaster (a bombastic speaker or writer) exists, there’s no such thing as a bombastee (one compelled to listen to read the words of a bombaster).

I Am Charlotte Simmons (20004) by Tom Wolfe (1930–2018), a hefty 688 pages, it "won" the Literary Review's 2004 Bad Sex Award but was said to be a favorite of George W Bush (George XLIII, b 1946; POTUS 2001-2009) so there was that.

Lewis & Lee took to their work with a light touch.  Rather than condemnation, it was admitted: “Bad verse has its canons, like good verse” and the selection of the “bad” was no less difficult than the challenges in assembling the “best” for a more conventional anthology.  As their argument went, “good” bad Verse has “an eerie, supernal beauty comparable in its accidents with the beauty of good verse” and it was likely as difficult to write a genuinely “good” bad poem as it is to write a good poem.  That was a generous view but there was also an audience for the bad, William McGonagall often engaged to give recitals of his work, always including the infamous The Tay Bridge Disaster (1880), its place in literary history assured by appearing usually in lists of the “worst ever poems”.  That “monetizing of awfulness” happens also in music.  The Portsmouth Sinfonia (1970-1979) was an English orchestra open to “musicians” with neither skill nor training and their idiosyncratic performances were well attended, as were those of Florence Foster Jenkins (1868–1944).  Ms Foster Jenkins (who was first married at 15, the age of consent in Pennsylvania then ten despite it being north of the Mason-Dixon Line) was rich enough to indulge her hobby which was singing Opera and that she did, giving public performances so awful that word spread and most were sold-out.  In literary use, there was also (between 1993-2019) the “Bad Sex Award”, described by organizing committee as “Britain’s most dreaded literary prize”.  Conferred every winter by the London-based Literary Review, it was awarded to the author judged to have penned the worst sex scene published in the previous twelve months.  It was established in 1993 by the magazine’s former editor, Auberon Waugh (1939–2001).

1938 Mercedes-Benz 320 (W142, 1937-1942) Cabriolet B in a factory promotional image.  As well as the upholstery, the folding soft-top contained horse-hair bombast. 

European manufacturers and coach-builders used “cabriolet” to distinguish certain convertibles from the more rakish, sporty roadsters although the English had to be different and decided they were DHCs (drop-head coupés) which meant a convertible version of a FHC (fixed-head coupé).  Cabriolets were for decades a fixture in the catalogues (low-priced vehicles as well as the better-remembered exotics) but in the late 1920s (with typically Teutonic attention to detail), Daimler-Benz codified the naming conventions for cabriolets built by Mercedes-Benz:

Cabriolet A: A cabriolet with two doors and room for two passengers.

Cabriolet B: A cabriolet with two doors and room for four or five passengers, fitted with a rear-quarter window for the rear seat.

Cabriolet C: A cabriolet with two doors and room for four or five passengers with no rear quarter window.

Cabriolet D: A cabriolet with four doors and room for four to six passengers.

Cabriolet F: A cabriolet with four doors, built on an extended wheelbase, usually for state or formal use with room for six or more passengers.

The jump in the factory's designations from "D" to "F" obviously skipped "E" and because that didn't seem the German way of doing things, there was speculation another type of open coachwork had been planned but which was never built because of the outbreak of World War II (1939-1945).  That's not impossible (some records were lost during the war) but the archives for the period have revealed nothing which supports the theory and the sometimes repeated assertion the "Cabriolet F" label was an allusion to "Führer" (the car's most infamous customer) is simply wrong because the designation was first used in the 1920s, prior to the Nazis gaining power and creating the Third Reich (1933-1945).  Quite what would have been the configuration of the allegedly “missing Cabriolet E” is purely speculative and those who have written on the subject have concluded it’d likely have been either (1) a four-door body distinguished only from a Cabriolet D by a longer wheelbase or different side-window treatment or (2) the intended differentiation of a Cabriolet F without the rear-quarter window (as some were built but never uniquely designated).

Bombast, in its original sense, could prove fatal.

Bomb-blasted: the Mercedes-Benz 320 Cabriolet B in which SS-Obergruppenführer (General) Reinhard Heydrich (1904–1942; head of the Reich Security Main Office 1939-1942) was being driven on the day of the assassination attempt.

Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) had in 1938 appointed Baron Konstantin von Neurath (1873–1956; Foreign Minister of Germany 1932-1938) as Reichsprotektor (a sort of proconsul (from the Latin prōconsul, a shortened form of prō consule (one acting on behalf of the consul))) of occupied Bohemia and Moravia (a region of Czechoslovakia).  Hitler did not make the appointment because of any great regard for the baron’s administrative or diplomatic skills but because (1) he wanted the more obsequious Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945) as his cipher in the Foreign Ministry and (2) he thought von Neurath’s reputation in international circles as a “moderate” would mollify the outrage expressed about the brutish and cynical tactics employed by the Nazis in their takeover of the Czech lands.  To an extend the political window dressing worked, not because von Neurath’s delegated rule was benign but because news of much of what was being done was suppressed and international attention had already turned to events elsewhere as concerns grew over Hitler’s next target.

With the outbreak of World War II, von Neurath’s regime became harsher with an increased rate of imprisonment in concentration camps, more executions and less restrained persecution of Czech Jews (the last measure not wholly without support from sections of Czech society).  However, bloody though it was, what the Reichsprotektor did was mild compared with what was done in other conquered territories (notably Poland and later in the Soviet Union when the Nazis turned to genocide as a “final solution”) and, not best pleased, late in 1941 Hitler appointed SS General Reinhard Heydrich as von Neurath’s nominal deputy although Heydrich assumed full executive authority, leaving the Reichsprotektor as a figurehead, the Nazis assuming his veneer of (relative) respectability remained useful.  Hitler knew the murderous Heydrich would not be troubled by the notions of humanity or residual decency that had constrained von Neurath and he wasn’t disappointed in his latest appointment for within days martial law had been imposed on the protectorate with thousands and arrested and hundreds executed.  When Hitler wanted something done, if possible, he’d allocate the task to the SS.

The SS (ᛋᛋ in Armanen runes; Schutzstaffel (literally “protection squadron” but translated variously as “protection squad”, “security section" etc)) was formed (under different names) in 1923 as a Nazi party squad to provide security at public meetings (then often rowdy and violet affairs) and was later re-purposed as a personal bodyguard for Hitler.  The SS name was adopted in 1925 and during the Third Reich the institution evolved into a vast economic, industrial and military apparatus more than a million strong to the point where some historians (and contemporaries) regarded it as a kind of “state within a state”.  The Waffen-SS (armed SS (ie equipped with military-grade weapons)) existed on a small scale as early as 1933 before Hitler’s agreement was secured to create a formation at divisional strength and growth was gradual even after the outbreak of hostilities in 1939 and it was the invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941 which triggered the Waffen-SS’s expansion into a multi-national armoured force with over 800,000 men under arms.  As well as the SS’s role in the administration of the many concentration and extermination camps, the Waffen-SS was widely implicated in war crimes and crimes against humanity.

Konstantin von Neurath.  At the first Nuremberg Trial (1946-1946) he received a 15 year sentence but was released in 1954 because of ill health, dying within two years.  Had Heydrich lived to be tried, he'd have been hanged.

Just as Heydrich understood Hitler’s language, so the Czechs understood his and rapidly the once troublesome protectorate was pacified.  Heydrich was however there not merely to impose and maintain order but also to ensure the agricultural and industrial capacity efficiently was exploited to benefit the German economy and war machine; rapidly his “carrot & stick” approach produced dividends with production rising and resources re-allocated within the Czech economy towards the needs dictated by Berlin.  Heydrich proved remarkably successful in his role, his “cut the head off the snake” (ie identifying and what would now be called “neutralizing” those likely to be troublesome) approach ending acts of sabotage or other resistance while his increases in the allocation of food and consumer goods to the population resulted in a workforce which, it not exactly “happy”, was at least compliant and productive.  Having witnessed the crackdowns and collective punishments that had characterized the early days of his rule, the Czech population had little taste for resistance, knowing retribution would be swift, brutal and widespread, meaning the place soon became peaceful.  Heydrich however regarded his tactics as a temporary measure and planned with the end of the war to engage in wholesale ethnic cleansing to “Germanize” the whole region.

That goal was known to Czech resistance based in London and for reasons both political and military, wished to do something to encourage acts of disobedience, despite knowing the consequences that would be visited upon the population.  The British authorities did nothing to discourage this view and believed resistance in occupied territories was a vital element in their plan to “set Europe ablaze” with ferment against Nazi rule.  Accordingly, a team of London-based Czech assassins was assembled and smuggled back into Prague with the audacious plan to assassinate Heydrich.  Code-named Operation Anthropoid (a word translated variously as (1) a non-human creature with some of the physical characteristics of a human or (2) a creature with the characteristics of an ape), Heydrich made their task easier because, so assured did he think was his pacification of his domain that routinely he was driven to his office in an un-armored, open-top car with no escort or security detail.

The aftermath.   A 320 Cabriolet B reputed to be this car now sits in a museum in Denmark.

On 27 May, 1942, the two Czech operatives waited at a corner where the Mercedes-Benz cabriolet had to slow to negotiate a tight turn and although mechanical failures meant Operation Anthropoid didn’t go to plan, the wounds which finally killed Heydrich were inflicted by a grenade.  The tossed grenade actually missed ending up in the rear compartment where the target was sat and instead exploded outside, just ahead of the right-side rear wheel.  What happened was shrapnel from the device passed through the cushion of the rear seat and entered Heydrich’s torso and it’s believed it took with it some of the horsehair used as the upholstery’s bombast.  The most common theory to account for his death (nine days after the blast) is the horsehair caused a systemic infection, trigging sepsis and putting his body into shock.  For the Czechs, the consequences were severe with the deaths and deportations in the thousands and never again did the Czechoslovak government-in-exile order such an operation.  In his honor, the programme to exterminate Polish Jews in the General Government district of German-occupied Poland was named Aktion Reinhard (Operation Reinhard) and this was the start of what came to be called “the Holocaust”.  The circumstances of the loss of a man he regarded as “irreplaceable” appalled Hitler who found inexplicable the idea his representative would travel around occupied territory unescorted and in an un-armored, open-top car.  Accordingly, Mercedes-Benz was commissioned to build a run of armoured sedans to be allocated to the Nazi party.  This included the last 20 770Ks (W150, 1938-1943) and 37 two-door 540Ks (W29, 1936-1940) built on the already completed chassis and delivered between 1942-1944.

Bluster (pronounced bluhs-ter)

(1) Noisy, swaggering, empty threats or protests; inflated talk (often in the phrase “bluff and bluster”).

(2) Boisterous noise and violence.

(3) Of the wind, noisy; gusty; tumultuous.

(4) To speak or say loudly or boastfully

(5) To act in a bullying way

(6) To force or attempt to force (a person) into doing something by behaving thus

1520-1530: From the Middle English blusteren (aimlessly to wander about), the modern sense perhaps gained from the Middle Low German blustern & blüstern (to blow violently) (which may be compared with the later Low German blustern & blistern).  The obviously related words were blow and blast and it seems likely there was some connection with the East Frisian blüstern (to bluster), the Old Norse blāstr (blowing, hissing) and the Saterland Frisian bloasje (to blow) & bruusje (to bluster).  In English, the use in the context of the weather had emerged by at least the 1540s and the sense of bluster being “a storm of violent wind” (directly from the circa 1400 verb) was in general use by the 1580s.  The meaning “noisy, boisterous, inflated talk” appeared in print in 1704 but may long have been in oral use.  The adjective blustery dates from the 1730s and seems to be used first of persons in the sense of “noisy, swaggering” and may not have been applied to the weather (rough & stormy) for some decades.  Bluster is a noun & verb, blusterer, blusteration & blustrification are nouns, blustering is a noun, verb & adjective, blustered is a verb, blustersome, blusterous, blustery & blustery are adjectives and blusterously & blusteringly are adverbs; the noun plural is blusters.

Wind-blown: Lindsay Lohan at the beach on a blustery day.

Blustering was in use by the 1510s to imply “someone stormy or tempestuous” and by the 1650s it was applied to “boastful, swaggering people”.  In the (possibly co-authored) Pericles, Prince of Tyre (circa 1608), William Shakespeare (1564–1616) uses blusterous: “Now may your life be mild, for a blusterous birth had never babe!” (Act 3, Scene 1) and of course in Coriolanus and Sir John Falstaff he created archetypes of the loud, swaggering blustering character.  Bluster’s synonyms include boast, brag & rant.  There are a remarkable number of phrases meaning much the same thing as “all bluff and bluster” (full of talk but lacking substance) including: “all bark and no bite”, “all foam, no beer”, “all fur coat and no knickers”, “all garnish and no meat”, “all hat and no cattle, “all icing, no cake”, “all lime and salt, no tequila”, “all mouth and no trousers”, “all shot, no powder”, “all show, no go, “all sizzle and no steak and “all talk and no action”.

Bombast and bluster are much associated with politicians although, if anything, those tendencies are now seen less as the trend from at least the mid-twentieth century has been towards simplicity and repetition (the most effective form clearly believed to be the 3WS (three word slogan)).  In political rhetoric however, bombast and bluster did have a long and sometimes ignoble history and among critics the terms often were used interchangeably because, despite the subtle differences in meaning, very often there’d be elements of both in the one speech.  They are different faults: Bombast refers to inflated, grandiose, pompous language. The criticism is that the speaker's words are overly elaborate or impressive-sounding relative to their actual substance; after listening for a while to some of Winston Churchill’s (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) carefully crafted phrases, Aneurin “Nye” Bevan (1897–1960) responded by saying: “The majesty of his words conceals the poverty of his thoughts.”.  Bluster is different in that it refers to loud, aggressive, boastful, or threatening talk, often with the implication there is more noise than action.  Bluster is a label applied to the speaker's swaggering manner rather than their vocabulary or phraseology.  So, bombast is a thing of style & language while bluster is about tone and attitude but there are many instances of speeches contain both bombast (grandiose language) with bluster (aggressive attitude); the preferred collective term is “hot air”.  That of course reflects the different etymology, bombast (originally “padding or stuffing” in its figurative sense meaning “stuffed excessively with words” while bluster (originally of stormy wind conditions) suggesting “noisy or overbearing speech”.  So, in as few words as possible: bombast is verbal inflation; bluster is verbal intimidation.

Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) at the UN, September 2025.

Mr Trump often is described as “bombastic” but that really is a misuse, albeit a common one among those commenting on politics and politicians.  Whether or not one concurs with his views, Mr Trump usually expresses himself in commendably succinct terms which readily can be understood by most, eschewing the use of long, unusual or obscure words.  It’s an example of how the meaning of bombast has shifted but what critics really mean to say is Mr Trump is inclined to bluster and prone to exaggerate; he does not however “pad out” his sentences with decorative phrases or words inserted mere to prove his erudition.  Instead, his language is direct and simple and while someone like the classically educated Boris Johnson (b 1964; UK prime-minister 2019-2022) sometimes couldn’t resist delighting at least some in his audience with the odd linguistic flourish, Mr Trump likes simple, punchy words and some fragments from his address to the UNGA (United Nations General Assembly) in September 2025 illustrate his approach: “One year ago, our country was in deep trouble.  But today, just eight months into my administration, we're the hottest country anywhere in the world, and there is no other country even close.”; “This is the greatest administration in US history.  We have strongest borders, military and relationships around the world.”; “What is the purpose of the United Nations?  It has such tremendous, tremendous potential.  But it's not even coming close to living up to that potential.  For the most part, at least for now, all they seem to do is write a really strongly-worded letter and then never follow that letter up.  It's empty words and empty words don't solve war. The only thing that solves war and wars is action.”; “Everyone says that I should get the Nobel Peace Prize for each one of these achievements.”; “Europe has to step it up.  They can't be doing what they're doing.  They're buying oil and gas from Russia while they're fighting Russia.  It's embarrassing to them.”; “Not only is the UN not solving the problems it should, too often it's actually creating new problems for us to solve.  The best example is the No. 1 political issue of our time, the crisis of uncontrolled migration. It's uncontrolled. Your countries are being ruined.  Your countries are going to hell.”; “Climate change is the greatest con job ever.  If you don't get away from this green scam, your country is going to fail.”  There are grounds on which Mr Trump can be criticized but he uses plain, simple words and his meaning is always clear and that approach may be compared with that of Kamala Harris (b 1964; VPOTUS 2021-2025), his opponent in the 2024 election and it wasn't only Fox News that liked to describe her speech as a “word salad”.  In fairness, what Ms Harris did wouldn’t have met the clinical threshold of what in psychiatry used to be called schizophasia (a severe form of disorganized speech consisting of a confused, unintelligible mixture of seemingly random, unconnected words and phrases; while the words themselves may be grammatically correct, they lack logical or semantic meaning, making the speech impossible for a listener to understand) but it could be a challenge to gain meaning from her words.  At least Joe Biden (b 1942; VPOTUS 2009-2017 and POTUS 2021-2025) had an excuse for his mumbling and incoherence; he was senile.