Homologate

Homologate (pronounced huh-mol-uh-geyt or hoh-mol-uh-geyt)

(1) To approve; confirm or ratify.

(2) To register (a specific model of machine (usually a car), engine or other component) in either general production or in the requisite number to make it eligible for racing competition(s).

(3) To approve or ratify a deed or contract, especially one found to be defective; to confirm a proceeding or other procedure (both mostly used in Scottish contract law).

1644: From the Latin homologāt (agreed) & homologātus, past participle of homologāre (to agree) from the Ancient Greek homologeîn (to agree to, to allow, confess) from homologos (agreeing), the construct being homo- (from the Ancient Greek ὁμός (homós) (same) + legein (to speak).  Homologate, homologated and homologating are verbs, homologation is a noun.

Once often used to mean “agree or confirm”, homologate is now a niche word, restricted almost wholly to compliance with minimum production numbers, set by the regulatory bodies of motorsport, to permit use in sanctioned competition; the words "accredit, affirm, approbate, authorize, certify, confirm, endorse, ratify, sanction, warrant & validate etc" are otherwise used for the purpose of agreeing or confirming.  It exists however still in Scottish law as a legal device, used (now rarely) retrospectively to declare valid an otherwise defective contract.  The best known application was to validate contracts of marriage where some technical defect in the legal solemnities had rendered the union void.  In such cases case a court could hold the marriage “. . . to be homologated by the subsequent marriage of the parties”.  It was a typically Scottish, common-sense application of the law, designed originally to avoid children being declared bastards (at a time which such a label attracted adverse consequences for all involved), vaguely analogous with a “contract by acquiescence” from contract law though not all were pleased: one dour Scottish bishop complained in 1715 that homologate was a "hard word".

Case studies in homologation

1962 Ferrari GTO.

In 1962, fearing the effectiveness of Jaguar’s new E-Type (XKE), the sleek lines of which made it look faster even than it was, Ferrari created a lighter, more powerful version of their 250 GT, naming the new car 250 GTO (Gran Turismo Omologato (Grand Touring Homologated)).  The regulatory body, the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile (FIA) required a production run of at least 100 "identical" examples within twelve months for a car to be homologated for the Group 3 Grand Touring Car class but Ferrari built only 33, 36, 39 or 41 (depending on how one treats the variations and 36 is most quoted) 250 GTOs, thus the enduring debate about whether the thing violated the rules.  There was though some "wriggle room" in those rules in that "special coachwork" was permitted for racing variants of a homologated Group 3 model, but mechanical modifications were banned and while strengthening of a chassis, was permitted, weight reduction of the structure was not.  On any objective reading of the rule book, the fact the 250 GTO used a custom, narrow-tube frame unlike any other 250 GT, certification should have been denied until the requisite 100 had within twelve months been built.  However, the FIA was aware of the "Ferrari factor" in these matters.  Race organizers had much influence on the FIA's thought processes and they really wanted Ferraris on their grids because people paid money to see the things race so the GTO was granted homologation as a legitimate "development" the 250 GT Berlinetta SWB (Short wheelbase), the papers for which had been first issued in 1960.  It was as an appendage to this document that the GTO (as "a clause driving through a loophole" as one critic put it) competed between 1961-1964.  They’re now a prized item, one in a private transaction selling in 2018 for a reputed, then world-record, US$70 million which makes it the second most expensive car ever sold, topped only by the US$142 million paid in 2022 for one of the two Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR (W196S) Uhlenhaut gull-wing coupés.

1965 Ferrari 250 LM.

The FIA’s legislative largess didn’t extend to Ferrari’s next development for GT racing, the 250 LM. The view of il Commendatore was the 250 LM was an evolution as linked to the 250 GT’s 1960 homologation papers as had been the 250 GTO and thus deserved another certificate of extension.  Stung by the criticism that Ferrari were being afforded blatant favoritism (the FIA dubbed by some: "Ferrari International Assistance"), the FIA which pointed out 250 LM (1) was mid rather than front-engined, (2) had a wholly different body and (3) used a different frame and suspension.  Neither party budged so the 250 LM could run only in the prototype class until 1966 when it gained homologation as a Group 4 Sports Car.  Although less competitive against the true prototypes, it’s speed and reliability was enough for a private entry to win the 1965 24 Hours of Le Mans, a Ferrari’s last victory in the race until 2023.  One quirk of the 250 LM was that when the FIA ruled against homologation, the point of retaining the 3.0 litre displacement became irrelevant and almost all 250 LMs used a 3.3 litre engine so under Ferrari’s naming convention, the thing properly should have been called a 275 LM.  In February 2025, at RM Sotheby's Paris Auction, the Scaglietti-bodied 1964 250 LM which won at Le Mans in 1965 (and the only Ferrari from the era to compete in six 24 hour races) was sold for US$36.2 million.  The car had for decades been on display at Indianapolis Motor Speedway Museum, like the 1954 Mercedes-Benz W196R Stromlinienwagen (streamliner) which a few days earlier had fetched US$53 million.  

1969 Porsche 917.

In 1969, needing to build twenty-five 917s to be granted homologation, Porsche did... sort of.  When the FIA inspectors turned up to tick the boxes, they found the promised twenty-five cars but most were in pieces.  Despite assurances there existed more than enough parts to bolt together enough to qualify, the FIA, now less trusting, refused to sign off, despite Porsche pointing out that if they assembled them all, they'd then just have to take them apart to prepare them for the track.  The FIA conceded the point but still refused to sign-off.  Less than a month later, probably nobody at the FIA believed Porsche when they rang back saying twenty-five completed 917s were ready for inspection but the team dutifully re-visited the factory.  There they found the 25, lined-up in a row.  Duly the delegation granted homologation, declining the offer of twenty-five test-drives.

1969 Dodge Daytona (red) & 1970 Plymouth Road Runner Superbird (blue).

By the mid 1950s, various NASCAR (National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) competitions had become wildly popular and the factories (sometimes in secret) provided support for the racers.  This had started modestly enough with the supply of parts and technical support but so tied up with prestige did success become that soon some manufacturers established racing departments and, officially and not, ran teams or provided so much financial support some effectively were factory operations.  NASCAR had begun as a "stock" car operation in the literal sense that the first cars used were "showroom stock" with only minimal modifications.  That didn't last long, cheating was soon rife and in the interests of spectacle (ie higher speeds), certain "performance enhancements" were permitted although the rules were always intended to maintain the original spirit of using cars which were "close" to what was in the showroom.  The cheating didn't stop although the teams became more adept in its practice.  One Dodge typified the way manufactures used the homologation rule to effectively game the system.  The homologation rules (having to build and sell a minimum number of a certain model in that specification) had been intended to restrict the use of cars to “volume production” models available to the general public but in 1956 Dodge did a special run of what it called the D-500 (an allusion to the number built to be “legal”).  Finding a loophole in the interpretation of the word “option” the D-500 appeared in the showrooms with a 260-hp V8 and crossed-flag “500” emblems on the hoods (bonnet) and trunk (boot) lids, the model’s Dodge’s high-performance offering for the season.  However there was also the D-500-1 (or DASH-1) option, which made the car essentially a race-ready vehicle and one available as a two-door sedan, hardtop or convertible (the different bodies to ensure eligibility in NASCAR’s various competitions).  The D-500-1 was thought to produce around 285 hp from its special twin-four-barrel-carbureted version of the 315 cubic inch (5.2 litre) but more significant was the inclusion of heavy-duty suspension and braking components.  It was a successful endeavour and triggered both an arms race between the manufacturers and the ongoing battle with the NASCAR regulators who did not wish to see their series transformed into something conested only by specialized racing cars which bore only a superficial resemblance to the “showroom stock”.  By the 2020s, it’s obvious NASCAR surrendered to the inevitable but for decades, the battle raged.

1970 Plymouth Superbird (left) and 1969 Dodge Daytona (right) by Stephen Barlow on DeviantArt.  Despite the visual similarities, the aerodynamic enhancements  differed between the two, the Plymouth's nose-cone less pointed, the rear wing higher and with a greater rake.  It's a persistent myth the wing height was dictated by the need to ensure the trunk (boot) lid could be opened; the height a product of the point at which "clean" air, undisturbed by the car's progress, could be found while the two vertical struts improved directional stability while inducing minimal drag.     

By 1969 the NASCAR  regulators had fine-tuned their rules restricting engine power and mandating a minimum weight so manufacturers resorted to the then less policed field of aerodynamics, ushering what came to be known as the aero-cars.  Dodge made some modifications to their Charger which smoothed the air-flow, labelling it the Charger 500 in a nod to the NASCAR homologation rules which demanded 500 identical models for eligibility.  However, unlike the quite modest modifications which proved so successful for Ford’s Torino Talladega and Mercury’s Cyclone Spoiler, the 500 remained aerodynamically inferior and production ceased after 392 were built.  Subsequently, Dodge "solved" the problem of the missing 108 needed for homologation purposes by later introducing a different "Charger 500" which was just a trim level and nothing to do with competition but, honor apparently satisfied on both sides, NASCAR turned the same blind eye they used when it became clear Ford probably had bent the rules a bit with the Talladega.  Not discouraged by the aerodynamic setback, Dodge recruited engineers from Chrysler's aerospace & missile division (which was being shuttered because the Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974) was taking the US towards détente with the US & USSR beginning their arms-reduction programmes) and quickly created the Daytona, adding to the 500 a protruding nosecone and high wing at the rear.  Successful on the track, this time the required 500 really were built, 503 coming of the line.  NASCAR responded by again moving the goalposts, requiring manufacturers to build at least one example of each vehicle for each of their dealers before homologation would be granted, something which typically would demand a run well into four figures.  Plymouth duly complied and for 1970 about 2000 Superbirds (NASCAR acknowledging 1920 although Chrysler insists there were 1,935) were delivered to dealers, an expensive exercise given they were said to be invoiced at below cost.  Now more unhappy than ever, NASCAR lawyered-up and drafted rules rendering the aero-cars uncompetitive and their brief era ended.

1968 Dodge Charger (left), 1968 Dodge Charger 500 (centre) and 1969 Dodge Charger Daytona (right).

Before the missile engineers got involved, the path to specific aerodynamic efficiencies had an element of trial and error.  Ascetically, the 1968 Dodge Charger (left) was visually a great improvement on its slab-sided predecessor (1966-1968) and the recessed grill with hidden headlights was much admired, as were the buttresses which at the back created what Chrysler dubbed the "tunnel roof".  However, although always intended for the NASCAR ovals, once used there at speed, the drivers found the grill functioned just like the parachute the shape resembled, increasing fuel consumption and lowering top speed while the tunnel roof created buffering, causing instability.  Above 150 mph (240 km/h), the 1968 Charger not only didn't work very well but was dangerous.  That same year, the Charger 500 (centre) appeared with the recessed grill replaced by what was close to a flat surface which to some extent ameliorated the "parachute effect" but it was still not an ideal shape with which to penetrate the air while removing the buttresses smoothed things at the back which was good but at the now higher speeds, lift became a problem, something potentially more lethal even than the movement induced by the buffering.  The missile engineers' combination of the nosecone and big rear wing on the 1969 Dodge Daytona (right) solved all problems and on 24 March 1970, at Alabama's Talladega Superspeedway, a Charger 500 (DC-93) prepared by Chrysler Engineering to Daytona specifications (originally on the press fleet, it was a recovered stolen car!) set the then closed course lap record of 200.447 mph (322.5882 km/h).

Fully restored DC-93, the Dodge Charger 500 which in Daytona trim set the 200.447 mph (322.5882 km/h) at Talladega, March 1970.  The relationship between this thing and even the Daytonas sold to the public was an indication of how far NASCAR's definition of "stock car" had travelled since competition began in 1948.   

So extreme in appearance were the cars they proved at the time sometimes hard to sell and some were converted back to the standard specification by dealers anxious to get them out of the showroom.  Views changed over time and they're now much sought by collectors, the record price known price paid for a Superbird being US$1,650,000 for one of the 135 fitted with the 426 Street Hemi.  Despite the Superbirds having been produced in some four times the quantity of Daytonas, collectors indicate they're essentially interchangeable with the determinates of price (all else being equal) being determined by (1) engine specification (the Hemi-powered models the most desirable followed by the 6-BBL Plymouths (there were no Six-Pack Daytonas built) and then the 4 barrel 440s), (2) transmission (those with a manual gearbox attracting a premium) and (3) the combination of options, mileage, condition and originality.  Mapped on to that equation is the variable of who happens to be at an auction on any given day, something unpredictable.  That was demonstrated in August 2024 when a highly optioned Daytona in the most desirable configuration achieved US$3.36 million at Mecum’s auction at Monterey, California.  The price was impressive but what attracted the interest of the amateur sociologists was the same Daytona in May 2022 sold for US$1.3 million when offered by Mecum at their auction held at the Indiana State Fairgrounds.  The US$1.3 million was at the time the highest price then paid for a Hemi Daytona (of the 503 Daytonas built, only 70 were fitted with the Hemi and of those, only 22 had the four-speed manual) and the increase in value by some 250% was obviously the result of something other than the inflation rate.  The consensus was that although the internet had made just about all markets inherently global, local factors can still influence both the buyer profile and their behaviour, especially in the hothouse environment of a live auction.  Those who frequent California’s central coast between Los Angeles and San Francisco include a demographic not typically found in the mid-west and among other distinguishing characteristics there are more rich folk, able to spend US$3.36 million on a half-century old car they’ll probably never drive.  That’s how the collector market now works.  

1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429.

Although sometimes difficult, NASCAR could however be helpful, scratching the back of those who scratched theirs.  For the Torino and Mercury Cyclone race cars, Ford was allowed to homologate their Boss 429 engine in a Mustang, a model not used in top-flight stock car racing.  Actually, NASCAR had been more helpful still, acceding to Ford's request to nudge the seven litre displacement limit from 427 to 430 cubic inches, just to accommodate the Boss 429.  There was a nice symmetry to that because in 1964, Ford had been responsible for the imposition of the 427 limit, set after NASCAR became aware the company had taken a car fitted with a 483 cubic inch (7.9 litre) engine to the Bonneville salt flats and set a number of international speed records.  The car used on the salt flats was one which NASCAR had banned from its ovals after it was found blatantly in violation of homologation rules related to bodywork so there was unlikely to be much leeway offered there.

1971 Ford Falcon GTHO Phase III.

Australian manufacturers were (mostly) honest in their homologation programmes, Ford’s GTHO, Chrysler’s R/T Charger and Holden’s L34 and A9X were produced in accordance both with the claimed volumes and technical specification.  However, although in total the numbers added-up, they weren't always so punctilious in the form the parts ended up in the hands of customers.  Ford's RPO83 (Regular Production Option #83) was a run late in 1973 of XA Falcon GTswhich included many of the special parts intended for the aborted 1972 GTHO Phase IV and although, on paper, that seemed to make the things eligible for use in competition, it transpired the actual specification of various RPO83 cars wasn't consistent and didn't always match the nominal parts list.  History has been generous however and generally it's conceded that in aggregate, the parts subject to the homologation rules appear to have been produced in the requisite number.  By some accounts, this included counting the four-wheel disk brakes used on the luxury Landau hardtops but CAMS (the Confederation of Australian Motor Sport, at the time the regulatory body) was in the mood to be accommodating.

No homologation issues: Here and there, between 1938-2003, Volkswagen produced 21,529,464 Beetles (officially the VW Type 1).    

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, 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 distant 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.

"Chunky spikes" a variant of the "hedgehog cut".

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.

Ranger Planet’s summary of the difference between porcupines and hedgehogs with illustrations to scale.

Among non-specialists, the terms “porcupine” and “hedgehog” are sometimes used interchangeably (a la “dolphin” and “porpoise”) and one recent linguistic phenomenon has been the emergence of a “new regionalism” in use, the words moving in accords with patterns of migration.  Although both spiny mammals, porcupines and hedgehogs differ in their biology, behavior, and habitat, the former being rodents of the family Erethizontidae (New World) or Hystricidae (Old World) whereas Hedgehogs belong to the family Erinaceidae and are insectivores.  Porcupines have large, round bodies and long quills, typically weighing 1.0-27 kg (2.2-60 lb) while Hedgehogs are much smaller, weighing usually .45-2.25 kg (1-5 lb) with spines which are shorter and softer.  In both, the distinctive spines are for protection.  A porcupine’s quills detach readily and the advantage of that is they tend to stick to predators; the hedgehogs have shorter, non-barbed spines and when threatened, the creatures curl into a ball with their spines pointing outward, offering protection.  Porcupines are herbivores, primarily eating leaves, twigs, bark, and other plant material; hedgehogs are omnivores, feeding mostly on insects, small invertebrates, and some fruits or plants.  Porcupines can be either arboreal (tree dwellers) or terrestrial (living on the ground), depending on the species and are more common in North America (New World porcupines) and parts of Asia, Africa, and Europe (Old World porcupines).  Hedgehogs generally are terrestrial and prefer grasslands, hedgerows, and gardens, commonly found in Europe, Asia, and parts of Africa; they are also an introduced species in New Zealand and some Scottish islands where they have proved a threat to native creatures.  Both are solitary and nocturnal (most active at night).  The porcupine did make an appearance in political discourse.  In 1904, Theodore Roosevelt (TR, 1858–1919; US president 1901-1909) made one of his less remembered interventions in Santo Domingo after it had reneged on its debts to European creditors (something of a recurrent theme south of the border).  Responding to allegation of imperial avarice, Roosevelt responded he had no more appetite for acquisition “…than a gorged boa constrictor might have to swallow a porcupine wrong-end to.”  Australians, not familiar with porcupines, can equate the presidential metaphor with the familiar phrase “rough end of the pineapple”.

Royal Navy P-class destroyer HMS Pathfinder (1941-1945), 1943, sister ship of HMS Porcupine.

Although during World War II (1939-1945) the Royal Navy used an anti-submarine weapon called “Hedgehog” (also known as the Anti-Submarine Projector) 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, the Admiralty has never launched a ship named HMS Hedgehog.  It has however, at various times between 1746-1942 had eight HMS Porcupines on the active list and although another was commissioned in 1967, it was cancelled before being laid down.  The most intriguing HMS Porcupine for word nerds was the last, a P-class destroyer launched in June 1941 (amidst a flurry of destroyer construction early in the war) and commissioned in August 1942.  She was torpedoed by a German U-Boat (submarine) while in the Mediterranean Sea and although damage was severe, the ship remained afloat and was towed back to a North African port, the survival due to her “armored citadel”, a type of naval architecture which can be imagined as a kind of “armored box” enclosing vital components or dangerous material (such as the magazine which hold the ammunition), formed by the armored deck, the waterline belt, and the transverse bulkheads.  It wasn’t unknown for ships to have their bows and sterns shot off yet still not sink and the concept in familiar in the modern automobile’s “safety cell”, the strong passenger compartment to which is attached front and rear the sacrificial “crumple zones” which rather than maintaining their structure in a crash, crumple to absorb and dissipate the impact’s energy before it reaches the occupants.  Declared a total loss, the ship was stripped of components and the hull was cut into two halves (fore & aft) for transportation to England.  Once back in the Portsmouth docks, informally the fore part was dubbed HMS Pork and the rear HMS Pine; both reconfigured as accommodation hulks, the two were in January 1944 commissioned under those names and they remained in service until August 1946, after which all of which was once HMS Porcupine was placed on the disposals list, sold for scrap and broken up.