Curious

Curious (pronounced kyoor-ee-uhs)

(1) Eager to learn or know; inquisitive; interested, inquiring

(2) Prying; meddlesome, overly inquisitive.

(3) Arousing or exciting speculation, interest, or attention through being inexplicable or highly unusual; odd; strange.

(4) Made or prepared skilfully (archaic).

(5) Done with painstaking accuracy or attention to detail (archaic).

(6) Careful; fastidious (archaic).

(7) Marked by intricacy or subtlety (archaic).

(8) In inorganic chemistry, containing or pertaining to trivalent curium (rare).

1275–1325: From the Middle English curious, from the Old French curius (solicitous, anxious, inquisitive; odd, strange (which endures in Modern French as curieux)), from the Latin cūriōsus (careful, diligent; inquiring eagerly, meddlesome, inquisitive), the construct being cūri- (a combining form of cūra (care) + -ōsus .  The –ōsus suffix (familiar in English as –ous) was from Classical Latin from -ōnt-to-s from -o-wont-to-s, the latter form a combination of two primitive Indo-European suffixes: -went & -wont.  Related to these were –entus and the Ancient Greek -εις (-eis) and all were used to form adjectives from nouns.  In Latin, -ōsus was added to a noun to form an adjective indicating an abundance of that noun.  The English word was cognate with Italian curioso, the Occitan curios, the Portuguese curioso and the Spanish curioso.  The original sense in the early fourteenth century appears to have been “subtle, sophisticated” but by the late 1300s this had been augmented by “eager to know, inquisitive, desirous of seeing” (often in a bad (ie “busybody”) sense and also “wrought with or requiring care and art”, all these meaning reflecting the Latin original.  The objective sense of “exciting curiosity” was in use by at least 1715 but in booksellers' catalogues of the mid-nineteenth century, the word was a euphemism for “erotic, pornographic”, such material called curiosa the Latin neuter plural of cūriōsus.  That was not however what was in the mind of Charles Dickens (1812–1870) when he wrote The Old Curiosity Shop (1840-1841).

The derived forms include noncurious, overcurious, supercurious, uncurious & incuruious.  Both uncurious and incurious are rare and between them there is a difference in meaning and usage, but it is much weaker and less consistently observed than the distinction drawn (though not always observed) between disinterest and uninterest.  Incurious means “lacking curiosity; not inclined to inquire or wonder” and often carries a critical or evaluative tone, implying intellectual complacency or narrow-mindedness; it can be applied to individuals but seems more often used of groups.  Uncurious means “usually not curious” and tends to be descriptive rather than judgmental.  Being rarely used and obscure in what exactly is denoted, some style guides list them as awkward and best avoided, recommending being explicit about what is meant.  Curious is an adjective, curiousness & curiosity are nouns, curiously is an adverb; the noun plural curiosities.  The comparative more curious or curiouser and the superlative most curious or curiousest

The proverb “curiosity killed the cat” means “one should not be curious about things that don’t concern one”.  The phrase “curiouser and curiouser” comes from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) by the English author Lewis Carroll (pen name of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (1832–1898)).  As a modern, idiomatic form, it’s used to describe or react to an increasingly mysterious or peculiar situation (though usually not one thought threatening).  Alice made her famous exclamation after experiences increasingly bizarre transformations and other strange events in Wonderland; later, what was described would be thought surrealistic.  The phrase has endured and it appears often in literature and popular culture, London’s Victoria and Albert Museum even holding the Alice: Curiouser and Curiouser event.  The author’s use of “bad English” was deliberate, a device to convey the child’s sense of bewildered confusion.  In standard English, the comparative of "curious" is “more curious” with the –er suffix usually appended to words with one or two syllables.  The word “curiouser” thus inhabits a special niche in that although mainstream dictionaries usually list it as “informal” or “non-standard” (ie “wrong”), unlike most “mistakes”, because it’s a literary reference, it’s a “respectable” word (if used in the phrase).  In that, it’s something like “it ain’t necessarily so”.

Depiction of the mad hatter’s tea party by Sir John Tenniel (1820-1914) in an edition called Nursery Alice (1890), an abridged version of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland intended for children under five (the original drawing now held by the British Museum).  The book contained 20 illustrations by Sir John who also provided the artwork for the full-length publication.  A fine craftsman, Sir John was noted also for his moustache which “out-Nietzsched” Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900).  Despite much later speculation, no evidence has ever emerged to suggest Lewis Carroll was under the influence of drugs when writing the “Alice” books

Special derived adjectival uses of curious include the portmanteau word “epicurious” (curious about food, especially wishing to try new dishes and cuisines), the construct being epicu(reean) +‎ (cu)rious.  Although the notion of Epicureans (those who are followers of Epicureanism) being focused on food is overstated, that’s the way the word usually appears in popular use.  “Indy-curious” is from UK politics and refers to those interested in the possibility of independence for Wales, without necessarily being a supporter of the proposal.  Those who are “veg-curious” are interested in or contemplating a vegetarian or vegan diet.

The word “curious” became an element in the punch-lines of some “gay jokes” (a now extinct species outside the gay community) but survived in derived forms in sexology, presumably because they can be used neutrally.  The constructs include (1) “pancurious” (exhibiting a state of uncertainty about one's pansexual or panromantic status), (2) “bi-curious” (interested in having relationships with both men and women, curious about one's potential bisexuality; considering a first sexual experience with a member of the same sex (used especially of heterosexuals), (3) gay-curious (curious about one's homosexuality; curious to try homosexuality (4) homocurious (questioning whether one is homosexual), (5) polycurious (curious about or open to polyamory; potentially interested in having relationships with multiple partners and (6) trans-curious (interested in one's potential transness or the experience of a sexual encounter with a trans person.  None of these forms seem to be in frequent use and some may have been created to “cover the field” and there may be some overlap (such as between pancurious and polycurious) and that at least some may be spectrum conditions seems implicit in the way dictionaries list comparative and superlative forms (eg more bi-curious; most bi-curious).

The synonyms include enquiring, inquiring; exquisitive; investigative and the now rare peery, the latter a use of curious in the vein of the “meddling priest” (ie a “busybody” tending to ask questions or wishing to explore or investigate matters not of their concern).  Such a person could be labelled a quidnunc (gossip-monger, one who is curious to know everything that happens) a word (originally as quid nunc) from the early 1700s, the construct being the Latin quid (what? (neuter of interrogative pronoun quis (who?) from the primitive Indo-European root kwo-, stem of relative and interrogative pronouns)) + nunc (now); the idea was of someone habitually asking “What's the news?” and that phrase was one with which for decades the press baron Lord Beaverbrook (Maxwell Aitken, 1879-1964) would pester his editors.  The other group of synonyms reference the word in its “funny-peculiar” sense and include queer, curious: weird, odd, strange & bizarre.  Such an individual, concept or object can be called “a curiosity” and that’s reflected in the noun “curio” which dates from 1851 and meant originally “piece of bric-a-brac from the Far East” and was a short form of curiosity in the mid seventeenth century sense of “object of interest”’ by the 1890s it was in use to refer to rare or interesting bric-a-brac (or just about anything otherwise unclassified) from anywhere.  The related curioso was in use by the 1650s and for two centuries-odd was a word describing “one who is curious" (of science, art, metaphysics and such) or “one who admires or collects curiosities”; it was from the Italian curioso (a curious soul (person)).

1971 Plymouths in Curious Yellow (code GY3): 'Cuda 340 (left) and GTX (right). 

Although buyers of Ferraris, Porsches, Lamborghinis and such still often order cars in bright colors, most of the world’s fleet had for some years been restricted mostly to white, black and variants of silver & gray; it’s a phase the world is going through and it can’t be predicted how long this visually sober ere will last.  In the US in the late 1960s it was different and like other manufacturers, Chrysler had some history in the coining of fanciful names for the “High Impact” colors dating from the psychedelic era.  Emerging from their marketing departments came Plum Crazy, In-Violet, Tor Red, Limelight, Sub Lime, Sassy Grass, Panther Pink, Moulin Rouge, Top Banana, Lemon Twist & Citron Yella.  That the most lurid colors vanished during the 1970s was not because of changing tastes but in response to environmental & public health legislation which banned the use of lead in automotive paints; without the additive, production of the bright colours was prohibitively expensive.  Advances in chemistry meant that by the twenty-first century brightness could be achieved without the addition of lead so Dodge revived psychedelia for a new generation although Sub Lime became Sublime.

Criterion's re-issue of I Am Curious (Blue) and I Am Curious (Blue) with edited (colorized) artwork.  The original posters were monochrome.  

Two years into the first administration of Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US VPOTUS 1953-1961 & POTUS 1969-1974), and a year on from his declaration of a “War on Drugs”, it was obvious the psychedelic era was over but bright colors were still popular so come were carried over although the advertising became noticeably “less druggy”.  Although it may be an industry myth, the story told is that Plum Crazy & In-Violet (lurid shades of purple) were in 1969 late additions because the killjoy board refused to sign-off on Statutory Grape but despite that, Plymouth for 1971 decided to change the name of their vibrant hue of yellow from “Citron Yella” to “Curious Yellow” (code GY3), that apparently borrowed from the controversial 1967 Swedish erotic film I Am Curious (Yellow), directed by Vilgot Sjöman (1924-2006); it was followed the following year by I Am Curious (Blue), the two intended originally as 3½ hour epic.  As promoted at the time, the films were advertised as “I Am Curious: A Film in Yellow” and “I Am Curious: A Film in Blue”, the mention of the colors an allusion to the Swedish flag.

Lindsay Lohan does her bit to revive Chrysler’s 1971 Curious Yellow, the New York Post’s Alexa magazine, 5 December 2024.

A footnote to the earlier film is an uncredited appearance by Olof Palme (1927–1986; Prime Minister of Sweden 1969-1976 & 1982-1986) whose assassination remains unsolved. The films are very much period pieces of a time when on-screen depictions of sex were for the first time in some places liberated from most censorship and while this produced an entire genre of blends of eroticism and pornography, some directors couldn’t resist interpolating political commentary (of the left and right); at the time, just about everything (sex included) could be sociological.  Critic and audiences mostly were unconvinced but films like the “Curious” brace and Michelangelo Antonioni’s (1912–2007) Zabriskie Point (1970) later gained a cult following.  Problems encountered during production resulted in the release of Zabriskie Point being delayed until 1970 but in retrospective this was a blessing because if anyone doubted the spirit of the 1960s had died, the film was there to remove all doubt.  A commercial failure, visually, it remains a feast for students of pre-digital cinematography and some maintain the best way to enjoy subsequent viewings is to mute the sound and play the soundtrack on repeat; unsynchronized with the scenes, its an experience rewarding in its own way.  

Knickers

Knickers (pronounced nik-erz)

(1) Loose-fitting short trousers gathered in at the knees.

(2) A bloomers-like undergarment worn by women.

(3) A general term for the panties worn by women.

(4) In product ranges, a descriptor of certain styles of panties, usually the short-legged underpants worn by women or girls.

(5) In slang, a mild expression of annoyance (archaic).

1866: A clipping of knickerbockers (the plural and a special use of knickerbocker).  The use is derived from the short breeches worn by Diedrich Knickerbocker in George Cruikshank's illustrations of Washington Irving's (1783-1859) A History of New York (1809), published under the pen-name Dietrich Knickbocker.  The surname Knickerbocker (also spelled Knikkerbakker, Knikkerbacker, and Knickerbacker) is a American creation, based on the names of early Dutch early settlers of New Netherland, thought probably derived from the Dutch immigrant Harmen Jansen van Bommel(l), who went variously by the names van Wy(y)e, van Wyekycback(e), Kinnekerbacker, Knickelbacker, Knickerbacker, Kinckerbacker, Nyckbacker, and Kynckbacker.  The precise etymology is a mystery, speculations including a corruption of the Dutch Wyekycback, the Dutch knacker (cracker) + the German Bäcker (or the Dutch bakker (baker)), or the Dutch knicker (marble (toy)) + the German Bäcker (or the Dutch bakker).  Aside from the obvious application (of or relating to knickerbockers), it was in the US used attributively as a modifier, referencing the social class with which the garment was traditionally associated; this use is now listed as archaic.  Knickers is a noun and is one of those words which serves also as a plural.

Men in knickerbockers.

Washington Irving was a US writer, historian and diplomat, most remembered today as the author of Rip Van Winkle (1819).  Although the bulk of his work was that of a conventional historian, his early writing was satirical, many of his barbs aimed at New York’s high society and it was Irving who in 1807 first gave NYC the nickname "Gotham" (from the Anglo-Saxon, literally “homestead where goats are kept”, the construct being the Old English gāt (goat) +‎ hām (home)).  The name Diedrich Knickerbocker he introduced in 1809 in A History of New York (the original title A History of New-York from the Beginning of the World to the End of the Dutch Dynasty).  A satire of local politics and personalities, it was also an elaborate literary hoax, Irving through rumor and missing person advertisements creating the impression Mr Knickerbocker had vanished from his hotel, leaving behind nothing but a completed manuscript.  The story captured the public imagination and, under the Knickerbocker pseudonym, Irving published A History of New York to critical and commercial success.  The name Diedrich Knickerbocker became a nickname for the Manhattan upper-class (later extended to New Yorkers in general) and was adopted by the New York Knickerbockers basketball team (1845-1873), the name revived in 1946 for the team now part of the US National Basketball League although their name usually appears as the New York Knicks.  The figurative use to describe New Yorkers of whatever status faded from use early in the twentieth century.  Knickerbocker was of course a real name, one of note the US foreign correspondent HR Knickerbocker (1898–1949) who in 1936 was a journalist for the Hearst Press, accredited to cover the Spanish Civil War (1936-1940).  Like many foreign reporters, his work made difficult by the military censors who, after many disputes, early in 1937 deported him after he’d tried to report the retreat of one of the brigades supplied by Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & prime-minister of Italy 1922-1943) with the words “The Italians fled, lock, stock and barrel-organ”.

Kiki de Montparnasse lace knickers, US$190 at FarFetch.

It was in the Knickerbocker tale of 1809 that Washington made the first known reference in print to the doughnut (after the 1940s often as "donut" in North American use although that spelling was noted as early as the mid-nineteenth century) although the “small, spongy cake made of dough and fried in lard”) was probably best described as “a lump” because there seems to be no suggestion the size and exact shape of the things were in any way standardized beyond being vaguely roundish.  It’s not clear when the holes became common, the first mention of them apparently in 1861 at which time one writer recorded that in New York City (the old New Amsterdam) they were known also as olycokes (from the Dutch oliekoek (oily cake) and some food guides of the era listed doughnuts and crullers as “types of olycoke”.

For designers, conventional knickers can be an impediment so are sometimes discarded: Polish model Anja Rubik (b 1983), Met Gala, New York City, May, 2012.  Note JBF hair-style and commendable hip-bone definition.

Knickers dates from 1866, in reference to loose-fitting pants for men worn buckled or buttoned at the waist and knees, a clipping of knickerbockers, used since 1859 and so called for their because of their resemblance to the trousers of old-time Dutchmen in George Cruikshank's (1792-1878) illustrations in the History of New York.  A now extinct derivation was the Scottish nicky-tam (garter worn over trousers), dating from 1911, a shortened, colloquial form, the construct being knickers + the Scottish & northern English dialect taum, from Old Norse taumr (cord, rein, line), cognate with the Old English team, the root sense of which appears to be "that which draws".  It was originally a string tied by Scottish farmers around rolled-up trousers to keep the legs of them out of the dirt (in the style of the plus-fours once associated with golf, so-named because they were breeches with four inches of excess material which could hang in a fold below the fastening beneath the knee, the plus-four a very similar style to the classic knickerbocker).  The word “draws” survives in Scots-English to refer to trousers in general.  It also had a technical use in haberdashery, describing a linsey-woolsey fabric with a rough knotted surface on the right side which was once a popular fabric for women's dresses.

Cami-knickers, 1926, Marshalls & Snelgrove, Oxford Street, London.

The New York garment industry in 1882 adopted knickers to describe a "short, loose-fitting undergarment for women" apparently because of the appeal of the name.  By 1884, the word had crossed the Atlantic and in both France and the UK was used to advertise the flimsier of women’s “unmentionables” and there have long many variations (although there’s not always a consistency of style between manufacturers) including Camiknickers, French Knickers and (the somewhat misleading) No Knickers (which are knickers claimed to be "so comfortable you won't believe you're wearing them", said also to be the yardstick used to find the "perfect bra").  From the very start, women’s knickers were, as individual items, sold as “a pair” and there’s no “knicker” whereas the singular form knickerbocker, unlike the plural, may only refer to a single garment.  In the matter of English constructed plurals, the history matters rather than any rule.  Shoes and socks are obviously both a pair because that’s how they come but a pair of trousers seems strange because it’s a single item.  That’s because modern "trousers" evolved from the Old Scots Trews, Truis & Triubhas and the Middle English trouzes & trouse which were separate items (per leg) and thus supplied in pairs, the two coverings joined by a breechcloth or a codpiece.  A pair of spectacles (glasses) is similar in that lens were originally separate (al la the monocle), things which could be purchased individually or as a pair.  The idea of a pair of knickers was natural because it was an adaptation of earlier use for the men’s garments, sold as “pairs of knickerbockers” or “pairs of knickers”.

Advertisement for French lingerie, 1958.  Now owned by Munich-based Triumph International GmbH, Valisère was in the early twentieth century founded as a glove manufacturer by Perrin family in Grenoble, Isère (thus the name).  Until 1922, exclusively it made fabric gloves but in 1922 expanded to produce fine lingerie and instantly was successful, in the coming years opening factories in Brazil and then Morocco.

In English, euphemisms for underwear (especially those of women) have come and gone.  In that, the churn-rate is an example of the linguistic treadmill: Terms created as “polite forms” become as associated with the items they describe as the word they replaced and thus also come to be thought “common”, “rude” or “vulgar” etc, thus necessitating replacement.  Even the now common “lingerie” (in use in English by at least 1831), had its moments of controversy in the US where, in the mid-nineteenth century, on the basis of being so obviously “foreign” and thus perhaps suggestive of things not desirable, decent folk avoided it.  It was different in England where it was used by manufacturers and retailers to hint at “continental elegance” and imported lacy, frilly or silk underwear for women would often be advertised as “Italian lingerie” or “French lingerie”.  That was commercial opportunism because lingerie was from the French lingerie (linen closet) and thus deconstructs in English use as “linen underwear” but any sense of the exclusive use of “linen” was soon lost and the association with “luxury” stuck, lingerie coming to be understood as those undergarments which were delicate or expensive; what most wore as “everyday” wear wouldn’t be so described.

Christmas lights in the centre of Eislingen, Germany, 3 December 2015.

A town of over 20,000 souls in the district of Göppingen in Baden-Württemberg which lies in Germany’s south, the (presumably unintentional), “knickers theme” Christmas lights the good burghers choose in 2015 seem to have induced much envy because on social media there were many posts claiming them for other places including Tomsk, Sevastopol and Kutaisi.

Although apparently seen used in 1866 and by the early 1880s in general commercial use to describe “underpants” (dating from 1871) for women or girls”, “knickers” was not the last word on the topic, “undies” (1906), “panties” (1908) and “briefs” (1934) following.  However, for those with delicate sensibilities, mention of “knickers” (one’s own or another’s) could be avoided because there evolved a long list of euphemisms, including “inexpressible” “unmentionables” (1806); “indispensables” (1820); “ineffable” (1823); “unutterables” (1826); “innominables” (1827); “inexplicable” (1829); “unimaginable” (1833), and “unprintables” (1860).  In modern use, “unmentionables” is still heard although use is now exclusively ironic but the treadmill is still running because as the indispensable Online Etymology Dictionary noted when compiling that list, “intimates” seems (in the context of knickers and such to have come into use as recently as 1988; it’s short for “intimate apparel”, first used 99 years earlier.

Beknickered or knickered: Lindsay Lohan in cage bra and knickers, Complex Magazine photo-shoot, 2011.  In the technical sense, were the distinctive elements of a cage bra truly to be structural, the essential components would be the underwire and gore. 

The bra, like a pair of knckers, is designed obviously to accommodate a pair yet is described in the singular for reasons different again.  Its predecessor, the bodice, was often supplied in two pieces (and was thus historically referred to as “a pair of bodies” (and later “a pair of bodicies”)) and laced together but that’s unrelated to the way a bra is described: It’s a clipping of the French brassière and that is singular.  Brasserie entered English in the late nineteenth century although the French original often more closely resembled a chemise or camisole, the adoption in English perhaps influenced by the French term for something like the modern bra being soutien-gorge (literally, "throat-supporter") which perhaps had less appeal although it may be no worse than the more robust rehausseur de poitrine (chest uplifter) which seems more accurate still.  Being English, "brassiere" was soon clipped to "bra" and a vast supporting industry evolved, with global annual sales estimated to exceed US$60 billon in 2025 although since Donald Trump's (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) imposition of increased tariffs, just about all projections in the world economy must be thought "rubbery".

Danish model Nina Agdal (b 1992), Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Summer of Swim Fan Festival & Concert Bash, Coney Island Beach and Boardwalk, Brooklyn, New York, 28 August, 2016.

Ms Agdal can be described as being “unknickered” or “knickerless”, the choice depending presumably on what best suits the rhythm of the sentence.  Those adjectives reference the absence of knickers whereas “deknickered” describes their removal.  For serious students of fashion, “unknickered” or “knickerless” are used literally but a trap for young players is that there are dresses designed to produce the effect when worn with specially-designed knickers.  In the same way, there is no difference in meaning between “knickered” and “beknickered”, both a reference to having a pair on; they’re now rare but in the US when the wearing of knickerbockers was quite a thing, both would often appear in print.  The phrase “all fur and no knickers” (also as “all fur coat and no knickers”) conveys the critique: Having a superficially positive appearance that is belied by the reality.  That’s a slur suggesting the apparent beauty is but a surface veneer concealing something common and differs from “beauty is only skin deep” in that latter refers to someone or something genuinely beautiful but in some way ugly whereas the former implies the “beauty” is fake.  In that “all fur and no knickers” is related to “mutton dressed-up as lamb” (the even more cutting put-down being “mutton dressed as hogget”) and “all hat and no cattle”, reputed to have originated in Texas.  To “get one's knickers in a knot” or “to get one's knickers in a twist” is to become overwrought or needlessly upset over some trivial matter or event.  Used usually as the admonition: “Don’t get your knickers in a knot (or twist)”, the companion phrase being “keep your knickers on” which means much the same thing: “stay calm and don’t become flustered”.  The term “witches' knickers” is UK slang describing discarded, wind-blown plastic bags snagged in trees and bushes.  Gym knickers traditionally were the large, loose shorts worn by girls during school sports, the style very similar to what are now sold as “French knickers” (known in the US also as “tap pants”).  Camiknickers are a women's undergarment covering the torso; often worn (sometimes in decorated form) under short dresses or with slacks, the industry mostly has switched to marketing them under the names Teddy, Tedi or bodysuit.

Psychosis

Psychosis (pronounced sahy-koh-sis)

In psychiatry, a severe mental disorder (sometimes with physical damage to the brain), more serious than neurosis, characterized by disorganized thought processes, disorientation in time and space, hallucinations, delusions and a disconnection from reality.  Paranoia, manic depression, megalomania, and schizophrenia are all psychoses.

1847: From the New Latin & Late Greek psȳ́chōsis, the construct being psycho- + -osis, the source being the Ancient Greek ψύχωσις (psúkhōsis) (animation, principle of life), psych from the Ancient Greek ψυχή (psukhḗ or psykhē) (mind, life, soul).  The suffix –osis is from the Ancient Greek -ωσις (-ōsis) (state, abnormal condition or action), from -όω (-óō) (stem verbs) + -σις (-sis); -oses was the plural form and corresponding adjectives are formed using –otic, thus respectively producing psychoses and psychotic.  The Ancient Greek psykhosis meant "a giving of life; animation; principle of life".  In English, the original 1847 construction meant "mental affection or derangement" while the adjective psychotic (of or pertaining to psychosis) dates from 1889, coined from psychosis, on the model of neurotic/neurosis and ultimately from the Ancient Greek psykhē (understanding, the mind (as the seat of thought), faculty of reason).

In clinical use there are many derived forms (with meanings more precise than is often the case when such words migrate to general use) including antipsychotic, micropsychotic, neuropsychotic, nonpsychotic, postpsychotic, prepsychotic, propsychotic, protopsychotic, quasipsychotic, semipsychotic & unpsychotic.  The useful portmanteau word sarchotic (the construct a blend of sarcastic +‎ psychotic) is used to describe a statement so distrubingly sarcastic it can't be certain if the remark is intended to be humerous or the person making it genuinely is psychotic and even then there are graduations for which the adverb is used, the comparative being "more psychotically" and the superlative "most psychotically".  Psychosis & psychoticism are nouns, psychotic is a noun & adjective and psychotically is an adverb; the noun plural is psychoses.

Psychosis and the DSM

The word psychosis was a mid-nineteenth century creation necessitated by early psychiatry’s separation of psychiatric conditions from neurological disorders.  Originally a generalized concept to refer to psychiatric disorders, gradually it became one of the major classes of mental illness, assumed to be the result of a disease process, and, more recently, to a symptom present in many psychiatric disorders.  During this evolution, the diagnostic criteria shifted from the severity of the clinical manifestations and the degree of impairment in social functioning to the presence of one or more symptoms in a set of psychopathological symptoms.  By the early twentieth century, the concept of neurosis (which once embraced both the psychiatric and the neurological disorders), became restricted to one major class of psychiatric disease whereas psychosis (which once embraced all psychiatric disorders) became restricted to the other.

The first consensus-based classification with a description of diagnostic terms was in the first edition (DSM-I (1952)) of the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) in which mental disorders were divided into two classes of illness: (1) organic disorders, caused by or associated with impairment of brain tissue function; and (2) disorders of psychogenic origin without clearly defined physical cause or structural changes in the brain.  When DSM-II (1968) was released, the classifications were revised with mental disorders now classed as (1) psychoses and (2) neuroses, personality disorders, and other non-psychotic mental disorders.  Psychosis was defined as a mental disorder in which mental functioning is impaired to the degree that it interferes with the patient's ability to meet the ordinary demands of life and recognize reality.

Advances in both neurology and psychiatry led to an extensive revision in DSM-III (1980).  Radically, all traditional dichotomies (organic versus functional, psychotic versus neurotic etc) were discarded with psychiatric syndromes assigned to one of fifteen categories of disease.  At the labelling level, the term psychotic was used to describe a patient at a given time, or a mental disorder in which at some time during its course, all patients evaluate incorrectly the accuracy of their perceptions and thoughts but the editors emphasized it should not be applied to patients suffering only minor distortions of reality, regardless of how exactly they might fulfil the clinical criteria.  The revisions in DSM-III-R (1987) extended only to slight changes in terminology.

Mirroring the changes in diagnostic criteria published by the WHO, DSM-IV (1994) noted the diagnosis of psychosis should no longer be based on the severity of the functional impairment but rather on the presence of certain symptoms which included delusions, hallucinations, disorganized speech and grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior.  This emphasis on psychoses being spectrum conditions was continued in DSM-5 (2013) with schizoid (personality) disorder and schizophrenia defining its mild and severe ends.  Additionally, a more precise diagnostic framework was defined in which patients were assessed in terms both of symptoms and duration of suffering.

Two examples of "schizophrenia art".

My Eyes in the Time of Apparition (1913) by August Natterer (1868-1938).

The life of German artist August Natterer began innocuously enough, studying engineering, travelling extensively, marrying and building a successful career as an electrician.  However, in his thirties, he began to experience anxiety attacks and delusions and in 1907 suffered a hallucination in which thousands of images flashed before his eyes in little more than thirty minutes.  So affected by the experience that he attempted suicide, he was admitted to an asylum and would spend the remaining quarter-century of his life in and out of institutes for the insane.  In the literature, Natterer is referred to as Neter, a pseudonym used by his psychiatrist to protect patient and family from the social stigma then associated with mental illness.  He described the 1907 hallucination as a vision of the Last Judgment which he described as:

"...10,000 images flashed by in half an hour.  I saw a white spot in the clouds absolutely close – all the clouds paused – then the white spot departed and stood all the time like a board in the sky. On the same board or the screen or stage now images as quick as a flash followed each other, about 10,000 in half an hour… God himself occurred, the witch, who created the world – in between worldly visions: images of war, continents, memorials, castles, beautiful castles, just the glory of the world – but all of this to see in supernal images. They were at least twenty meters big, clear to observe, almost without color like photographs… The images were epiphanies of the Last Judgment. Christ couldn't fulfil the salvation because he was crucified early... God revealed them to me to accomplish the salvation."

After his suicide attempt and committal to the first of what would be several mental asylums, Natterer thereafter maintained that he was the illegitimate child of Emperor Napoleon I (Napoleon Bonaparte (1769–1821; leader of the French Republic 1799-1804 & Emperor of the French from 1804-1814 & 1815)) and "Redeemer of the World".  The vision inspired Natterer to a prolific production of drawings, all documenting images and ideas seen in the vision, one especially interesting to those studying psychosis and schizophrenia being My Eyes in the Time of Apparition (1913), two eyes bloodshot and wide-open eyes staring from the page.  The irises of the eyes do not match.

The Scream (1893), oil, tempera & paste on cardboard, by Edvard Munch (1863-1944), National Gallery of Norway.

Norwegian Edvard Munch was one of a number of artists modern psychiatrists have written of as having both genetic and environmental predispositions to mental illness, schizophrenia in particular; one of Munch’s sisters had schizophrenia, his father suffered from depression, his mother and another sister dying from tuberculosis when he was young.  Munch though was a realist, once telling an interviewer, “I cannot get rid of my illnesses, for there is a lot in my art that exists only because of them.”  The idea of affliction as a source or artistic inspiration appears often in the literature of art, music and such and in that it's something of a parallel with those who produce their finest work while living under political oppression; unpleasant as that can be, reform can see careers suffer, famous dissidents abruptly left as "rebels without a cause" after the fall of the Soviet Union (1922-1991) and a generation of the UK's activists found grist for their mills less prolific after the Tory Party had Margaret Thatcher (1925–2013; UK prime-minister 1979-1990) walk the political plank.  Where one door closes however, another sometimes opens and in John Major (b 1943; UK prime-minister 1990-1997) the comedians found a rich vein of material.    

His was a troubled life and in 1908, following a psychotic break exacerbated by alcoholism, Munch was admitted to a mental health clinic, later diagnosed with neurasthenia, a clinical condition now known to be closely associated with hypochondria and hysteria.  Adding to his problems, the Nazis labelled Munch’s style “degenerate art” and in 1937 confiscated many of his works but their disapprobation had less of an influence on his painting than his schizophrenia, his output continuing to feature figures obviously tortured by anguish and despair.  The apparently frantic strokes of the brush and his seemingly chaotic pallet of colors have long intrigued both critics and clinicians seeing insight into his state of mind, the idea being his paintings provide something of a visual representation of how schizophrenia might lead individuals to see the world.

Lindsay Lohan, following Edvard Munch, rendered by Vovsoft in comicbook style.

Endlessly reproduced, the subject of numerous memes and the inspiration for many re-interpretations, The Scream is Munch’s most famous work and the most emblematic of what now casually is called “schizophrenic art” (unfortunately often conflated with “art by schizophrenics”).  For decades it has been the chosen artistic representation for the angst-ridden modern human condition, the artist in 1890 noting in his diary a still vivid memory: “I was walking along the road with two friends—the sun went down—I felt a gust of melancholy—suddenly the sky turned a bloody red... I felt this big, infinite scream through nature.”  That entry was written some years after the sight and before painting The Scream in 1893 but the moment stayed with him because his vision of the sky caused him to “tremble with pain and angst” and he felt he heard his “…scream passing endlessly through the world.”  For historians those fragment of memory proved of interest and in his book Krakatoa:The Day the World Exploded (2003), detailing the 1883 eruption of the Indonesian volcano Krakatoa, Simon Winchester (b 1944) connected the “blood red” Norwegian sky with the fiery sunsets created by the ash from the explosion circulating the planet, high in the atmosphere.

Krakatoa: The Day the world exploded.

The idea of a link between the catastrophic geological event and the painting had long intrigued art historians who understood such a sight would have appeared “surreal”, decades before the surrealism movement became established and that it was a natural phenomenon is well-supported by theoretical modelling.  Between 20 May-21 October 1883, Krakatau, a volcanic island in the Sunda Strait, erupted, the “main event” happening on 27 August, during which over two-thirds of the island and its surrounding archipelago was destroyed, the remnants subsequently collapsing into a caldera (in volcanology, a large crater formed by collapse of the cone or edifice of a volcano).  The event created a large tsunami which, much diminished, reached the Atlantic and it’s believed that day’s third explosion was history’s loudest known sound.  What Edvard Munch is thought to have seen is the evening light of the sun being colored by the millions of tons of sulfur dioxide and volcanic dust blasted high into the atmosphere, circulating there for years including over Oslo when the artist was taking his walk.  Nor was he wholly wrong in suggesting “a scream passing” because such was energy generated by the explosion, the acoustic pressure wave circled the globe at least three times.

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.