Plague

Plague (pronounced pleyg)

(1) An infectious, epidemic disease caused by a bacterium, Yersinia pestis (trans transmitted to man by the bite of the rat flea (Xenopsylla cheopis)) characterized by fever, chills, and prostration.

(2) In casual use, any epidemic disease that causes high mortality; pestilence.

(3) Any widespread affliction, calamity, or evil, especially one regarded as divine retribution.

(4) Any cause of trouble, annoyance, or vexation; torment; to pester.

(5) As in “… a plague upon…”, to curse another, wishing any evil upon them.  The variation “a plague upon both your houses” suggests an unwillingness to take sides, an implication one thinks both parties are in the wrong. 

1350-1400: From the Middle English plage, a borrowing from the Old French plage, from the Latin plāga (blow, wound, (and pestilence in Late Latin), from plangō or plangere (to strike), the ultimate root being the Ancient Greek plēgē (a stroke).  It was cognate with the Middle Dutch plāghe (from the Dutch plaag) & plāghen (from the Dutch plagen), the Middle Low German plāge, the Middle High German plāge & pflāge (from the German plage) & plāgen (from the German plagen), the Swedish plåga, the French plaie and the Occitan plaga.  Plague exists as verb and noun, plaguer being the other noun, plaguing & plagued the verbs.  Other derived forms exist but are rarely seen except in historic or technical writing: plagioclase, plagioclimax, plagiohedral, plagiotropic and plagiotropism, plaguesome & plaguy.  For the actual disease there’s no actual synonym but many words tend to be used interchangeably in any context: invasion, scourge, contagion, pandemic, epidemic, curse, infection, outbreak, influenza, infestation, blight, calamity, pest, cancer, bedevil, afflict, beleaguer, bother, haunt, torment.

The famous phrase "A plague of both your houses" is from William Shakespeare's  (1564–1616) Romeo and Juliet (1597) .  When Mercutio says a "plague o' both your houses", he is damning both the Montagues and Capulets, asking fate to visit upon the families some awful fate because he blames both for his imminent death.  In modern use, it's used to suggest an unwillingness to take sides, the implication being one thinks both parties are in the wrong:

Mercutio. Help me into some house, Benvolio,

Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses!

They have made worms' meat of me: I have it,

And soundly too: your houses!

Romeo and Juliet, Act III, Scene 1

Plagues and the Plague

Masked-up: Lindsay Lohan avoiding plague.

Plague is an infectious disease caused by the bacterium Yersinia pestis and exists in three strains: Bubonic plague, Septicemic plague & Pneumonic plague, the former two usually contracted by the handling of an infected animal or the bite of a flea, the last by contact between people via infectious droplets in the air.  Typically, several hundred cases are reported annually, mostly in India, the Congo, Madagascar & Peru and cases have been reported in the US but historically, outbreaks were large-scale events lasting months or years, the best known of which include the fourteenth century Black Death, estimated to have killed some fifty-million and the Great Plague of London which, in 1665-1666, caused the death of one in five of the city's population.  COVID-19 was thus a plague but not the plague.  A common noun, plague is written with an initial capital only at the beginning of a sentence, or (as in the Great Plague of London) when it has become a thing.  Notable epidemics have included:

The Black Death (1346-1353)

Death Toll: 75 – 200 million; Cause: Bubonic Plague

The Plague ravaged Europe, Africa, and Asia, with a death toll of 75-200 million, killing up to half the population of some European countries.  Thought to have originated in Asia, Plague was most likely spread by fleas living on the rats of merchant ships and in some countries, populations didn’t recover until the nineteenth century.  Now unknown in most parts of the world, outbreaks still happen in various places.

Plague of Justianian (541-542)

Death Toll: 25 million; Cause: Bubonic Plague

Thought to have killed perhaps half the population of Europe, the Plague of Justinian afflicted the Byzantine Empire and Mediterranean port cities.  The first verified and well-documented incident of the Bubonic Plague, it reduced the population of the Eastern Mediterranean by a quarter and devastated Constantinople, where, at the height of the pandemic, 5,000 a day were dying.

Antonine Plague (165 AD)

Death Toll: 5 million; Cause: Unknown

Also known as the Plague of Galen, the Antonine Plague affected Asia Minor (the modern Republic of Türkiye), Egypt, Greece, and Italy and is thought to have been either Smallpox or Measles, though the true cause is unknown. The disease was brought to Rome by soldiers returning from Mesopotamia.  The pandemic significantly weakened the Roman army.

London and the plagues of Plague

A London Bill of Mortality, 1665.

During the sixteenth & seventeenth centuries when "bubonic plague was abroad", the authorities compiled "Bills of Mortality" listing the causes of death recorded that week.  It's now believed the statistics are not wholly reliable (Plague numbers, like the global toll from Covid-19, believed greatly to have been understated) but the startling ratio of deaths attributed to Plague compared with other causes is indicative of the deadly nature of the epidemic.  In one week 3880 residents of London were reported as having succumbed to Plague, dwarfing the number recorded as dying by other causes including Old Age (54), Consumption (Tuberculous) (174), Small Pox (10), Fright (1), Grief (1), Spotted Fever and the Purples (190), Griping in the Guts (74), Lethargy (1), Rifing of the Lights (19) and Wind (1).  Like the Covid-19 statistics, there was likely some overlap in the numbers but the disparity remains striking.

After the Black Death, London's major plague epidemics occurred in 1563, 1593, 1625 and 1665 and although the last is best-known (associated as it was with the Great Fire of 1666), it's believed it was during the 1563 event the city suffered the greatest proportional mortality with between a quarter and a third of the populating dying; losses have been estimated to be as high as 18,000 and in some weeks the toll exceeded 1000.  From there, the disease spread around the nation the following year, the fleas which were the primary vector of transmission having hibernated through what was a comparatively mild winter.  Echoing the political and military effects of epidemics noted since Antiquity, it was at this time England was compelled to give up their last French possession, Le Havre, which was being held as a hostage for Calais.  Plague broke out in the occupying garrison and few troops escaped infection so the town had to be surrendered.

There were small, manageable outbreaks in 1603 & 1610-1611 but the epidemic of 1625 was severe and associated with a notable internal migration as those with the means to leave London did not, the reduction in the number of magistrates & doctors noted as inducing the predicable social consequences although as time passed, it was clear the disease was becoming less virulent and the mortality rate had fallen, something now attributed at least partially to the so-called "harvesting effect".  After 1666, the Plague didn't vanish and there were periodic outbreaks but the lessons had been well-learned and the efficiency of communications and the still embryonic public-health infrastructure operated well, even if little progress had been made in actual medical techniques.  The Hull (an East Yorkshire port city) Plague of 1699 was contained with little spread and when an outbreak of fever was reported in Marseilles in 1720, stricter quarantine measures  were imposed in English ports which successfully prevented any great spread.  Throughout the eighteenth & nineteenth centuries (as late as 1896-1897) there were occasional isolated cases and small outbreaks of plague in various parts of England but none ever remotely approached the scale of the 1665-1666 epidemic.

Werner Herzog's Nosferatu (1979) 

Werner Herzog's (b 1942) 1979 remake of Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau's (1888–1931) masterpiece of Weimar expressionism (Nosferatu (1922)) takes place mostly in a small German city afflicted suddenly by Plague, Herzog rendering something chilling and darkly austere, despite the stylistic flourishes.  The 1979 film delivered the definitive screen Dracula and was a piece to enjoy when living in the social isolation of the Covid era.

Scene from Werner Herzog's Nosferatu (1979)

Miniature

Miniature (pronounced min-ee-uh-cher, min-ee-choor or min-uh-cher)

(1) A representation or image of something on a small or reduced scale.

(2) A greatly reduced or abridged form or copy.

(3) A very small painting, especially a portrait, showing fine detail on ivory or vellum.

(4) The art of executing such a painting.

(5) Historically, an illuminated letter or other decoration in a manuscript.

(6) In packaged alcoholic drinks, the small (usually 50 ml) bottles of spirits typically used in hotel mini-bars.

(7) Being, on, or represented on a small scale; reduced.

(8) In military dress, small versions of medals and decorations, worn on certain social occasions.

1580–1590: From the Italian miniatura (miniature painting), from the Medieval Latin miniātūra, the construct being miniāt(us) + -ūra (-ure) (From –u(s) (the suffix forming passive perfect participles) +‎ -ra (the nominal suffix).  Miniature is a noun, verb & adjective and miniaturization is a noun; the noun plural is miniatures.

Words undergo shifts in meanings or gain new senses which operate in parallel for a number of reasons including popular use, technological change, foreign influences and mistakes.  The modern meaning of “miniature” (a small version of something) arose because of a misunderstanding by medieval scholars who conflated miniāre (to paint red, (in illuminating manuscripts)) (from minium (the fiery red pigment used during the Middle Ages to ornament manuscripts)) with the Latin minimus (small (and in the strict technical sense used in Latin “not less or little but least”)).  Had the scholars of a few centuries ago got it right then miniature would have meant “an illuminated text”.  Long before there were printing presses, a trained elite worked as scribes, laboriously writing out by hand the books, scrolls and other manuscripts which were the preserve of the church, the rich and the relative few others who were literate.  In the west (things were a little more advanced in the Far East), literally whatever was printed on some form of parchment was the work of human hands and the slight variation in the style between one page and the next can be used to work out where the efforts of one scribe stopped and another began.

Illuminated manuscripts.

The process was to press a pigmented point against the surface which left the marks forming the letters and this was usually done in black but to enliven things, some characters or shapes were formed in red, often for titles, the large initial letters which marked the start of a paragraph (a tradition which persists to this day although the use of color is now rare) or the decorative drawings which usually in some way related to the subject of the text.  The Latin name for the red pigment (made either from cinnabar or red lead) was minium, and the corresponding verb meaning “to color with minium” was miniāre.

Lindsay Lohan in miniature: My Scene Goes Hollywood Lindsay Lohan Doll Gift Set by Mattel (autographed by the subject).

For the scholars who created the basis of the early Italian language, the connection between the decorative drawings rendered in red with miniare was so persuasive that miniare came to mean “to decorate a manuscript with a small drawing”.  A noun form of the word (miniatura) referred to the art of illuminating (ie adding illustrations) and in time this lost any hint of the use of a red pigment; it came to be applied whatever the color.  Because the “illuminations” (as the illustrations in manuscripts were called) were small compared with most drawings & paintings, miniatura came to be used to describe any small portrait or painting and, in the way language picked up figurative forms, eventually to anything very small. In English, “miniature” in that sense had been adopted by the late sixteenth century.

A 700 ml bottle of Gin might sell for US40 in a liquor store (US$2.85 per 50 ml) while a hotel might charge US$25 for the 50 ml miniature in a mini-bar (US$350 per 700 ml).  Sill, sometimes one really wants a G&T.

The concept of the miniature is well understood but the use is nuanced.  We have for decades lived in the age of miniaturization (now done at the atomic level) but the term “miniature” really makes sense only at the human scale.  In the military there are miniatures (which are scaled-down versions of decorations worn at certain social functions) and in a hotel mini-bar (a few still exist and they can be tempting if paying the high prices with OPM (other people’s money)) a 50 ml bottle of gin is a miniature, a small-scale rendition of the more familiar 700 or 1125 ml containers.  Both those examples are small versions of something larger but the most obvious instances of modern miniaturization are in electronics but nobody calls a smaller version of an integrated circuit a “miniature” even if both are structurally identical, differing only in scale.  So, the essence of the miniature is not merely that it’s minute, microscopic, diminutive, tiny or minuscule but that it is recognizably a smaller version of something which is familiar in a larger form.  In English, words in the vein of “miniature” actually have a tangled history.  Although it’s now close to extinct, “minify” was once a favorite among those too fastidious to tolerate the improper use of “minimize”.  Minify (the third-person singular simple present tense was minifies, the present participle minifying and the simple past and past participle minified) was a nineteenth century back-formation from magnify, creating its exact opposite.  There was also minish but all sources list it as archaic (although the popularity of diminish remains undiminished).

Small but not a “miniature”: Evening train to Hawthorn (circa 1889) by Tom Roberts (1856-1931) of the Heidelberg School.

In art history, the term “miniature” is specifically applied and not necessarily to all small paintings.  In August 1899, a number of artists of the Heidelberg School staged the 9 by 5 Impression Exhibition in Melbourne, Australia, the name a reference to most of the 183 works on display being painted on the cedar wood lids of cigar-boxes, all measuring 9 x 5 inches (229 x 127 mm).  The choice of medium was not an artistic device but reflected the impoverished artists’ need for an alternative to expensive canvas, most of the lids obtained for free from a tobacconist shop run by a family member.  The works were thus not “miniatures” in the accepted sense of the artistic tradition, even though they conformed with the structural definition and one criticism at the time was they resembled the small preliminary sketches artists would often make before commencing a larger work in the same style; interesting perhaps to academics and critics but hardly suitable for exhibition.  The size of the lids was actually not significant and had they been somewhat smaller or larger the art would have been much the same and the Heidelberg School’s particular impressionist technique was quite distinct from the broken colour technique of the French and it became the style of landscape painting that would for decades be the dominant form in Australia.  Controversial at the time, the 9 x 5s actually sold well, the public reacting more favorably than the critics, still not ready for the “shocks of the new” which awaited them in the new century and the surviving 9 x 5s now sell for up to Aus$1 million.

A seventeenth century miniature of the Italian School, oil painting on hard stone with a carved, golden frame (80 x 90 mm (3.14 x 3.54 inches).

Hedgehog

Hedgehog (pronounced hej-hog or heg-hawg)

(1) An Old World, insect-eating mammal of the genus Erinaceus, especially E. europaeus, and related genera, having a protective covering of spines on the back (family Erinaceidae, order Insectivora (insectivores)).  They’re noted for their tactic of rolling into a spiny ball when a threat is perceived.

(2) Any other insectivore of the family Erinaceidae, such as the moon rat.

(3) In US use (outside of strict zoological use), any of various other spiny animals, especially the porcupine

(4) In military use, a portable obstacle made of crossed logs in the shape of an hourglass, usually laced with barbed wire or an obstructive device consisting of steel bars, angle irons, etc, usually embedded in concrete, designed to damage and impede the boats and tanks of a landing force on a beach (an Ellipsis of the original Czech hedgehog (an antitank obstacle constructed from three steel rails)).

(5) In military (army or other ground forces) use, a defensive pattern using a system of strong points (usually roughly equally distant from the defended area) where there exists neither the personnel nor materiel to build a defensive perimeter.

(6) In (informal) military use, a World War II (1939-1945) era, an anti-submarine, spigot mortar-type of depth charge, which simultaneously fired a number of explosive charges into the water to create a pattern of underwater explosions, the multiple pressure waves creating a force multiplier effect.

(7) In Australia & New Zealand, a type of chocolate cake (or slice), somewhat similar to an American brownie.

(8) In water way engineering & mining, a form of dredging machine.

(9) In botany, certain flowering plants with parts resembling a member of family Erinaceidae, notably the Medicago intertexta (Calvary clover, Calvary medick, hedgehog medick), the pods of which are armed with short spines, the South African Retzia capensis and the edible fungus Hydnum repandum.

(10) To array something with spiky projections like the quills of a hedgehog.

(11) In hair-dressing, a range of spike hair-styles.

(12) An electrical transformer with open magnetic circuit, the ends of the iron wire core being turned outward and presenting a bristling appearance.

(13) To curl up into a defensive ball (often as hedgehogging).  

(14) In catering, a style used for cocktail party food, consisting of a half melon or potato etc with individual cocktail sticks of cheese and pineapple stuck into it.

(15) In differential geometry, a type of plane curve.

(16) In biochemistry & genetics, as hedgehog signalling pathway, a key regulator of animal development present in many organisms from flies to humans.

(17) In biochemistry, as sonic hedgehog, a morphogenic protein that controls cell division of adult stem cells and has been implicated in the development of some cancers (sometimes capitalized).

1400–1450: From the late Middle English heyghoge, replacing the Old English igl.  The construct was hedge + hog, the first element from the creature’s habit of frequenting hedges, the second a reference to its pig-like snout.  Hedge was from the Middle English hegge, from the Old English heċġ, from the Proto-West Germanic haggju, from the Proto-Germanic hagjō, from the primitive Indo-European kagyóm (enclosure) and was cognate with the Dutch heg and the German Hecke.   Hog was from the Middle English hog, from the Old English hogg, & hocg (hog), which may be from the Old Norse hǫggva (to strike, chop, cut), from the Proto-Germanic hawwaną (to hew, forge), from the primitive Indo-European kewh- (to beat, hew, forge).  It was cognate with the Old High German houwan, the Old Saxon hauwan, the Old English hēawan (from which English gained “hew”).  Hog originally meant “a castrated male pig” (thus the sense of “the cut one” which may be compared to hogget (castrated male sheep)).  The alternative etymology traces a link from a Brythonic language, from the Proto-Celtic sukkos, from the primitive Indo-European suH- and thus cognate with the Welsh hwch (sow) and the Cornish hogh (“pig”).  In the UK, there are a number of synonyms for mammals with spines, all of which evolved as historic regionalisms and those which have endured include urchin (listed as archaic but still used in fiction), furze-pig (West Country), fuzz-pig (West Country), hedgepig (South England), hedgy-boar (Devon) and prickly-pig (Yorkshire).  Hedge-hog is the alternative form.  Hedgehog is a noun & adjective, hedgehogged & hedgehogging are verbs and hedgehogless, hedgehoglike & hedgehoggy are adjectives; the noun plural is hedgehogs.

Hedgehog slice.

A conjecture by German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer (1788–1860), the hedgehog's dilemma, is a metaphor about the people’s simultaneous long for and the dangers posed by the quest for human intimacy and social interaction.  Schopenhauer illustrated the problem by describing a group of hedgehogs who in cold weather try to move close together to share body-heat.  However, because of the danger they pose to each other by virtue of their sharp spines, they are compelled to maintain a safe distance.  As much as they wish to be close, they must stay distance for reasons beyond their control.  Thus it is with humans who either known instinctively or learn from bitter experience that it’s not possible to enjoy human intimacy without the risk of mutual damage and it is this realization which induces caution with others and stunted relationships.  The most extreme manifestation is self-imposed isolation.

Of course most in modern societies interact with many others and Schopenhauer wasn’t suggesting total social avoidance was in any way prevalent but that most relationships tended to be perfunctory, proper and distant, mediated by “politeness and good manners” part of which is literally “keeping one’s distance”; what is now called one’s “personal space”.  Even among German philosophers with their (not always deserved) reputation for going mad it was a particularly Germanic view which recalls the musing of Frederick II (Frederick the Great, 1712–1786, Prussian king 1740-1786) that “The more I know of the nature of man, the more I value the company of dogs”.  It appealed too to other Teutons.  From Vienna, Sigmund Freud (1856-1939) quoted Schopenhauer’s metaphor in Massenpsychologie und Ich-Analyse (Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego (1921)) and heard in the tale the echoes of what so many of his patients had said while reclined on his office sofa.  He’d certainly have recognized as his own work the concept of “basic repression” explored by Berlin-born philosopher Herbert Marcuse (1898–1979) in explaining the mechanisms by which people maintained the “politeness and good manners” Schopenhauer suggested were necessary.  Marcuse’s contribution was the idea of “surplus repression”, those restrictions imposed on human behaviour “necessitated by social domination”, a consequence of the social organization of scarcity and resources in a way not “in accordance with individual needs”.  Some Germans however found some additional repression suited their character.  Albrecht Haushofer (1903–1945), an enigmatic fellow-traveller of the Nazis and for a long time close to the definitely repressed Rudolf Hess (1894–1987; Nazi deputy führer 1933-1941) wrote during the early days of the regime that “…I am fundamentally not suited for this new German world… He, whose faith in human society approximately agrees with Schopenhauer’s fine parable of the hedgehogs – is unsuitable for the rulers of today.”  That notwithstanding, his faith in the Nazis appeared to overcome his doubts because he remained, off and on, in their service until 1945 when, during the last days of the war, he was murdered by the regime.  

Variations of the hedgehog look.

There little to suggest that German habitué of the British Library’s reading rooms, Karl Marx (1818-1883), much dwelled upon hedgehogs, zoological or metaphorical but those who wrote of his work did.  In The Hedgehog and the Fox (a fine essay on Tolstoy published in 1953), Sir Isaiah Berlin (1909-1997) quoted a fragment from the Greek lyric poet Archilochus (circa 680–circa 645 BC): “The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing”.  Hedgehogs, wrote Berlin, were those “…who relate everything to a single central vision, one system, less or more coherent or articulate, in terms of which they understand, think and feel—a single, universal, organizing principle in terms of which alone all that they are and say has significance” while foxes “…pursue many ends, often unrelated and even contradictory, connected, if at all, only in some de facto way, for some psychological or physiological cause, related to no moral or esthetic principle”.  The hedgehog then is like the scientist convinced the one theory, if worked at for long enough, will yield that elusive unified field theory and is “…the monist who relates everything to a central, coherent, all-embracing system” while the fox is the pluralist intrigued by “the infinite variety of things often unrelated and even contradictory to each other”.  Berlin approved of foxes because they seemed to “look and compare” before finding some “degree of truth” which might offer “a point of view” and thus “a starting-point for genuine investigation”.  He labelled Plato, Lucretius, Pascal, Hegel, Dostoevsky, Nietzsche and Proust as hedgehogs (to one degree or another) while Herodotus, Aristotle, Montaigne, Erasmus, Moliere, Goethe, Pushkin, Balzac, Joyce were foxes.  To Berlin, Marx was a hedgehog because he pursued a universal explanatory principle in his advocacy of a materialist conception of history.  Berlin’s thesis was attracted much interest including from Marxists and neo-Marxists and their priceless addition to English was the “quasi-hedgehog” to describe their view being there were more shades to Marx than those of a hedgehog but lest than those of the fox.  Presumably the term quasi-hedgehog was coined because a hybrid of a fox and hedgehog was either unthinkable, unimaginable or indescribable.

Verklempt

Verklempt (pronounced fur-klempt, ver-klempt, vuh-klempt, or fuh-klempt)

Someone rendered unable to speak because they're emotionally overwhelmed.

1990–95: From the Yiddish פֿאַרקלעמט‎ (verklempt, farklemt or farklempt (overcome with emotion)), the past participle of verklemen or farklemen (also spelled as verklemmen & farklemmen) (to clamp (in a vise), to pinch, to choke (in the sense of “choke up”)) from the German verklemmt (inhibited, hemmed in, feeling (figuratively) squeezed; uptight (literally, “pinched, squeezed”), the past participle of verklemmen (to become stuck).  Ultimately, the Germanic forms can be traced back to the Old English clam & clom (bond; fetter).

Verklempt is a Yiddish loan word and spellings like ferklempt, fahklempt & farklempt are sometimes seen because it’s only in recent decades it’s has become fashionable and many are familiar with it only through oral use and the variations reflect interpretations of the phonetic perception.  The way English works is that if any of the variations beginning with “f” become prevalent, eventually they’ll be acknowledged as alternative spellings and perhaps even an English word.  For its effect (replete with cultural history), verklempt will remain Yiddish and thus a foreign borrowing and purists will note the advice of the Yiddish Word Dictionary that verklempt is pronounced “fur-klempt”.  The construction followed the usual German spelling and grammatical traditions, the ver- suggesting something happening to the subject (on the model of vergessen (forgotten)).  There are dozens of words related to the behavioural consequences of human emotion but the closest synonyms to verklempt are phrases like “overcome with emotion”, “overwhelmed”, struck dumb”, “rendered speechless” or “choked up”; words like “flustered” or “nervous” aren’t quite right because they refer to cause rather than effect, verklempt being an effect.  The root was from klemmen (which enjoys a range of meanings from “to press, to squeeze” to “to block, to oppress”.  Verklempt is an adjective (the noun use (the noun plural being verklempts) is informal).

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

To be verklempt is to be overwhelmed by emotion to the extent one is rendered unable to speak.  In modern use it’s associated with tell-tale phrases such as “choking back tears”, “quivering lips”, “moist eyes” et al but in Jewish tradition the Yiddish farklempt was associated not with any overwhelming emotional response but specifically to depression, loss and grief.  Encouraged by a variety of push & pull influences (notably talk-shows and click-bait), public displays of emotion are now more common than once and, in some circles, probably obligatory.  A state of verklemptness is one of the elements and in video feeds can function well as the “dramatic pause” which, as that phrase implies, should not too long linger or the audience will become impatient.  The comparative is “more verklempt” and the superlative “most verklempt” and subjects can, with the appropriate visual clues, operate anywhere in that spectrum but a frozen silence is essential and, cognizant of the audience’s attention span, it shouldn’t be maintained for more than about 7-10 seconds which doesn’t sound long but on a content-intensive medium like a video feed it’s quite a pause.

A verklempt Lindsay Lohan: Cady Heron and the bus scene (Mean Girls (2004)).

Verklempt is specific to being rendered physically unable to speak because of being emotionally overwhelmed although that’s just one possible reaction and one can be so emotionally overwhelmed one feels compelled to speak; it’s all about the circumstances of the moment.  In a sense verklempt is opposite of that described by the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth (1770–1850) who in the preface to the 1800 edition of his Lyrical Ballads wrote “Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity”.  The poet clearly was fond of the phrase because he’d used it before and it’s endured because probably no other fragment of thought so well captures the moment of the Romantic poets which shifted a whole generation from the Augustan neo-classical style which was eighteenth-century poetry towards something intensely emotional and accessible.

Romantic poetry was so appealing to so many because the words summoned the ecstasy of the soul rather than of technique, the latter something understood only by a tiny educated elite.  The public adored the romantic movement because it was so accessible but the among the elitists there was distaste for what they viewed as little more than a tawdry emotional manipulation of the masses and later TS Eliot (1888–1965) (a self-declared “classical poet” in the special sense TE Hulme (1883–1917) used the term) would maintain that after John Donne (circa 1571-1631), a “dissociation of sensibility” afflicted poets, making them unable to  think as keenly as if they were sensing something or experiencing a deep emotion. Thought and feeling, Eliot argued, were as one in John Donne; in later poets, they became “dissociated”.

Not verklempt, something else; Mitch McConnell freezes.  Twice.  July-August 2023. 

Nor is verklempt a suitable word to describe the manifestations of the conditions now on show in the upper reaches of US politics (senile decay, cognitive decline, old age etc) although the symptoms often overlap to the point of being indistinguishable.  Senate minority leader Mitch McConnell (b 1942) attracted much recent interest when on two occasions in July & August 2023 he “froze in place”, mid-press conference, standing silent for some 20 seconds, apparently unable to respond until led away by aides.  The senator later informed the press he was “fine” and merely had felt “light-headed”, later releasing a letter from the attending physician of Congress that said that he was “medically clear” to continue his schedule.  Given the senate minority leader doesn’t operate heavy machinery and (at least directly) is probably a danger only to himself if he continues in office, presumably the medical bulletin is correct but the apparent state of his health (and others in the congress) has triggered some debate about whether term limits or retirement ages should be introduced.  Although technically it’s not possible with absolute certainty to define the point at which statutory senility is attained, the increasingly geriatric state of the US body politic suggests it shouldn’t be too hard to make an educated guess about which are afflicted.

To be verklempt might have better.  Joe Biden in Vietnam (not India as he appears to believe), September 2023.

In the White House however, there may be a feeling among his handlers that a verklempt Joe Biden (b 1942; US president since 2021) might be something easier to spin that the one they’ve got who just keeps talking, often descending into mumbling incoherence before shuffling off the stage, sometimes tripping over obstacles, real and imagined.  There is a (doubtlessly apocryphal) story told in Washington DC that President Biden was told it was time to meet the cabinet.  After a few minutes it was noticed he was missing but was then discovered in another room talking to a bookcase and arguing with a chair.  The real concern was he lost the argument.     

Sole

Sole (pronounced sohl)

(1) Being the only one; only.

(2) Being the only one of the kind; unique; unsurpassed; matchless.

(3) Belonging or pertaining to one individual or group to the exclusion of all others; exclusive.

(4) In law, un-married (archaic).

(5) The bottom or under-surface of the foot.

(6) The corresponding under part of a shoe, boot, or the like, or this part exclusive of the heel.

(7) The bottom, under surface, or lower part of anything.

(8) In carpentry, the underside of a plane.

(9) In golf, the part of the head of the club that touches the ground.

(10) A European flatfish, Solea solea.

(11) Any other flatfish of the families Soleidae and Cynoglossidae, having a hook-like snout.

1275-1325:  From the Old French soul & sol (only, alone, just), from the Vlugar Latin sola from the Late Latin sōlus (alone, only, single, sole; forsaken; extraordinary), replacing Middle English soule.  The source was the Classical Latin solea (sandal, bottom of a shoe; a flatfish), derivative of solum (base, bottom, ground, foundation, lowest point of a thing (hence “sole of the foot”)).  The Latin root begat similar words in many European languages: the Spanish suela, the Italian soglia and the Portuguese solha although, technically, the bottom of the foot is the planta, corresponding to the palm of the hand.  The Latin sōlus is of unknown origin but may be related to the primitive Indo-European reflexive root swo- from which English later gained "so".

A fossil flatfish.

The various common European flatfishes (of the ray-finned demersal order Pleuronectiformes) became known as sole in the mid-thirteenth century, an adoption of French use which followed the Latin which named the solea after the sandal because of the resemblance in shape to a flat shoe.  In English, the meaning "bottom of a shoe or boot" is from the late fourteenth century, and the cobbler’s phrase “to heal and sole a boot (or shoe)” to describe a repair or replacement is a verb form from the 1560s.  Another linguistic innovation of boot-makers was the noun insole (an inner lining of a shoe or boot affixed inside to the bottom and following exactly the shape) which appeared in 1838; it soon became known as the inner sole or inner-sole.

The use in both Church and common law to mean "single, alone, having no husband or wife” was an appropriation of form reflecting the normal, everyday meaning of the sole (one and only, singular, unique) and was first used in that context in the late fourteenth century and, in some technical uses, appeared still as late as the early nineteenth.  The adjective solely began to appear in the late fifteenth century.  A particular adjectival adoption was the direct borrowing from Latin of solus, used in the theatre for stage directions by 1590s.  It’s a masculine (the feminine is sola) but, as part of an industry-specific jargon, solus was used for both.  In certain circles, including poets and lawyers, use of the word persisted in old Latin phrases such as solus cum sola (alone with an unchaperoned woman) and solus cum solo (all on one's own” (which translates literally as "alone with alone")).

Studies of the soles of the Lindsay Lohan’s feet in three aspects.

Sole and its antecedents proved a a productive source in English, the soleus (muscle of the calf of the leg) a creation in the 1670s in the Modern Latin used in medicine and, like the fish, inspired by the similarity to the Roman shoe.  The adjective solitary (alone, living alone) was a mid-fourteenth century formation from the Old French solitaire, from the Latin solitarius (alone, lonely, isolated) from solitas (loneliness, solitude) from solus (alone).  The meaning "single, sole, only" is from 1742 and the related forms are a solitarily & solitariness.   It was a noun as early as the late 1300s but the most inventive adaptation was probably the 1690s prison slang in which it described the punishment of solitary confinement; in 1854 the phrase became an official part of the administration of jails.

Martin Luther aged 43 (1529) by Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472-1653).

As a Reformation coinage, solus also provided theology with the 1590s solifidian (one who believes in salvation by faith alone), a tenet of Protestant Christianity based on the translation by the dissident, one-time Augustinian monk Martin Luther (1483-1546) of Romans 3:28, the construct being solus (alone) + fides (faith) from the primitive Indo-European root bheidh- (to trust, confide, persuade).  It must have been a success because solifidian was used as an adjective early in the new century; the related form is solifidianism.  Philosophy gained solipsism, the theory that self is the only object of real knowledge or the only thing that is real and that all else must be denied.

The solo as a “piece of music for one voice or instrument” dates from the 1690s and was in English a commonly used adjective as early as 1712, although the early uses had nothing to do with music, instead referring to activities undertaken alone or unassisted.  The verb is first attested 1858 in the musical sense, 1886 in a non-musical sense and was adopted in the business of pilot training to describe a pupil’s first flight without an instructor in the cockpit.  Among those who attend rock concerts, there seems to be one faction which regards the drum solo as a highlight and one for which it's a bore to be endured.

A desolate emo.

Desolate, the emo’s standard alliterative companion to devastated, in the mid-1300s meant “a person disconsolate, miserable, overwhelmed with grief, deprived of comfort", extended later in the century to “persons without companions, solitary, lonely".  If the word didn’t exist, emos would have invented it.  By the early fifteenth century, it became applied to the natural environment to describe places, "uninhabited, abandoned" from the Latin desolatus, past participle of desolare (leave alone, desert), the construct being de- (completely) + solare (make lonely).  It’s not clear when it came also to be used as a criticism of urban, built environments (typically industrial or suburban) but it was well-established early in the twentieth century.  Desolation (sorrow, grief, personal affliction), circa 1400 meant the "action of laying waste, destruction or expulsion of inhabitants" is from the twelfth century Old French desolacion (desolation, devastation, hopelessness, despair) and directly from the Church Latin desolationem (nominative desolatio), a noun of action from the past-participle stem of desolare (leave alone, desert).  The sense of a "condition of being ruined or wasted, destruction" is from the early 1400 and the sense of "a desolated place, a devastated or lifeless region" is from 1610s.  Also emo-themed was the adjective sullen, a 1570s alteration of the Middle English soleyn (unique, singular) from the Anglo-French solein, formed on the pattern of the Old French solain (lonely), from the Latin solus.  The emo-inspired sense shift in Middle English from "solitary" to "morose" occurred in the late fourteenth century.  Solitude is from the mid-fourteenth century, from the Old French solitude (loneliness) and directly from the Latin solitudinem (nominative solitudo) (loneliness, being alone; lonely place, desert, wilderness) from solus but didn’t become common use in English until the seventeenth century.  The solitudinarian (a recluse, unsocial person) is recorded from 1690s and it’s perhaps surprising such a modern-sounding word isn’t today more popular.

Saint Augustine of Hippo (circa 1510) by Berto di Giovanni (d 1529).

The noun soliloquy is from the 1610s, from the Late Latin soliloquium (a talking to oneself", the construct being solus + loqui (to speak) from the primitive Indo-European root tolkw- (to speak).  Earlier, it appeared in a translation of the Latin Soliloquiorum libri duo a treatise by Saint Augustine (354-430), who is said to have coined the word, on analogy of Greek monologia.  The related form is soliloquent.

Random

Random (pronounced ran-duhm)

(1) Proceeding, made, or occurring without definite aim, reason, or pattern; lacking any definite plan or prearranged order; haphazard.

(2) In statistics, of or characterizing a process of selection in which each item of a set has an equal probability of being chosen (the random sample); having a value which cannot be determined but only described probabilistically.

(3) Of materials used in building and related constructions, lacking uniformity in size or shape.

(4) Of ashlar (stonework), laid without continuous courses and applied without regularity:

(5) In slang (also clipped to “rando” and some on-line sources insist “randy” is also used), something or someone unknown, unidentified, unexpected or out of place; anything odd or unpredictable (not necessarily a pejorative term and used as both noun & adjective).

(6) In slang, someone unimportant; a person of no consequence (always a pejorative).

(7) In printing, the sloping work surface at the top of a compositor's workbench on which type is composed (also called a bank and use now almost exclusive to the UK).

(8) In mining, the direction of a rake-vein.

(9) Speed, full speed; impetuosity, force (obsolete).

(10) In ballistics, the full range of a bullet or other projectile and thus the angle at which a weapon is tilted to gain maximum range (obsolete).

(11) In computing (as pseudorandom), mimicking the result of random selection.

1650s: From the earlier randon, from the Middle English randoun & raundon, from the Old French randon, a derivative of randir (to run; to gallop) of Germanic origin (related to the Old High German rinnan (to run) (from which Modern French gained randonnée (long walk, hike), from either the Frankish rant (a running) & randiju (a run, race) or the Old Norse rend (a run, race), both from the Proto-Germanic randijō, from rinnaną (run), from the primitive Indo-European r̥-nw- (to flow, move, run).  It was cognate with the Middle Low German uprinden (to jump up) and the Danish rende (to run).  The development of the adjective to mean “having no definite aim or purpose, haphazard, not sent in a special direction” evolved in the 1650s from the mid-sixteenth century phrase “at random” (at great speed) which picked up the fourteenth century sense from the Middle English noun randon & randoun (impetuosity; speed).  In English, the meaning closely mirrored that in the Old French randon (rush, disorder, force, impetuosity), gained from Frankish or other Germanic sources.  The spelling shift in Modern English from -n to –m was not unusual (seldom, ransom et al).  Random is a noun & adjective, randomness & randomosity are nouns, randomize is a verb and randomly is an adverb; the noun plural is randoms.

A “random person” is one variously unknown, unidentified, unexpected or out of place.

In general use, the meanings related to speed (full speed; force, trajectory of delivery etc) faded from use between the fourteenth & seventeenth centuries but persisted in the field of ballistics where “random” described the limit of the range of a bullet or other projectile (thus the angle at which a weapon was tilted to gain the maximum range.  Even that was largely obsolete by the early twentieth century but the idea of the angle being “a random” persists still in pockets in the UK to describe a sloping work surface on which printers compose pages (although few now use physical metal type).  The now familiar twenty-first century slang use can be either pejorative (someone unimportant; a person of no consequence) or neutral tending to the amused (something or someone unknown, unidentified, unexpected or out of place; anything odd or unpredictable).  The modern adoption appears to have its origin in 1980s US college student slang when “a person who does not belong on our dormitory floor” was so described; from this the hint of “inferior, undesirable” was perhaps inevitable.  “Rando” seems to be the standard abbreviation but some on-line sources also list “randy” which would seem to risk confusion or worse.

School lunch social engineering: Some sources recommend parents cut their children’s sandwiches in random ways.  The theory is it helps train their minds to accept change and helps them learn to adapt.

In computing, random access memory (RAM) had since the 1980s become familiar as one of a handful of the critical specifications of a computer (CPU, RAM, drive space) and the origin of the terms dates from IBM’s labs in the early 1950s when it was used to describe a new form of memory which could be read non-sequentially.  The modern RAM used by personal computers, servers, smart phones etc is an evolution from the original memory model; in the world of the early mainframes there was simply storage which could fulfil the functions now performed by both RAM and media like hard disks & solid state drives.  RAM is now a well-known commodity but the companion ROM (Read-Only Memory) is understood only by nerds and only an obsessional few of them give it much thought.  RAM volatile in that the contents are inherently temporary lost when the device is powered-down or re-started; it can thus be thought of as using static electricity for data storage.  That characteristic means it’s fast, affording the most rapid access by the CPU (Central Processing Unit) so is used to hold whatever data is at the time most in demand and that can be parts of the operating system, applications or documents.  ROM is non-volatile and whatever is written to ROM remains even if a device is switched-off; it’s thus used for essential, information like firmware and hardware information.

In mathematics and statistics, random does have precise definitions but in general use it’s used also as a vague synonym for “typical or average”.  To a statistician, the word implies “having unpredictable outcomes to the extent all outcomes are equally probable and if any statistical correlation is found to exist it will be wholly coincidental.  Thus, although all dictionaries list the comparative as more random and the superlative as most random, a statistician will insist these are as absurd as “very unique” although even among mathematicians phrases like “increasingly random” or “tending to randomness” are probably not unknown.  For others, the forms are useful and the colloquial use to mean “apropos of nothing; lacking context; unexpected; having apparent lack of plan, cause or reason” is widely applied to events, even those which to a specialist may not be at all random and may even be predictable.  For most of us, any sub-set of numbers which appears to have no pattern will appear random but mathematicians need to be more precise.  In the strict, technical sense, a true random number set exists only when two conditions are satisfied: (1) the values are uniformly distributed over a defined interval or set and (2) it is impossible to predict future values based on past or present ones.  In the pre-computer age, creating random number lists was challenging and subsequent analysis has found some of the sets created by manual or mechanical means were not truly random although those which were sufficiently large probably were functional for the purposes to which they were put.

“Random news” is something strange, unexpected and often amusing.    

Now, random number generators (RNG) are used and they can exist either in hardware or software and there are two types (1) pseudorandom number generators (PRNG) and true random number generators (TRNG).  A software algorithm, a PRNG emulates a TRNG by mimicking the selection of a value to approximate true randomness, the limitation being the algorithm being based on a distribution (the origin of the term pseudorandom) which can only produce something ultimately deterministic and predictable (although to determine the pattern can demand much computational power).  Relying on a seed number, if that can be isolated, other numbers can be predicted although, if the subset is large, for many purposes, what PRNGs generate is functional.  TRNGs don’t use an algorithm (although their processes can be represented by one) but are instead based on an unpredictable physical variable such as radioactive decay of isotopes, airwave static, or the behaviour of subatomic particles, the latter now favoured for their utterly unpredictable movements, now called “pure randomness”.  So random is the behaviour of subatomic particles that their observation appears to be immune to measurement biases which can (at least in theory) afflict other methods.

Random numbers are important in a number of fields including (1) statistical sampling and experimentation where it’s essential to select a random sample to ensure that the results are representative of the entire population, (2) cryptography where random numbers are used to generate the encryption keys which ensure the security of data and communications, (3) simulation and modelling where there’s a need to replicate real-world scenarios, (4) gaming & gambling where the need exists to create unpredictable outcomes and (5) randomized controlled trials (RCT), notably in medical and scientific research where true randomness is needed to assist in the assessment of the effectiveness of treatments, interventions, or policies.