Wednesday, March 9, 2022

Epitaph

Epitaph (pronounced ep-i-taf or ep-i-tahf)

(1) A commemorative inscription on a tomb or mortuary monument about the person buried at that site.

(2) A brief poem or written passage composed in commemoration of a dead person.

(3) A final judgment on a person or thing.

(4) To commemorate in or with an epitaph.

(5) To write or speak after the manner of an epitaph. 

1350–1400: From the Middle English epitaphe (inscription on a tomb or monument), from the Old French epitafe, from the twelfth century Old French epitaphe, from the Latin epitaphium (funeral oration, eulogy), from the Ancient Greek epitáphion (over or at a tomb; a funeral oration), (noun use of neuter of πιτάφιος (epitáphios) ((words) spoken on the occasion of a funeral), the construct being epi- (From the Ancient Greek πί (epí) (at, over; on top of; in addition to (in a special use in chemistry, it denotes an epimeric form))) + τάφος (táph(os)) (tomb) + -ion (the noun-adjectival suffix).  Táphos (tomb, burial, funeral) was related to taphē (interment) & thaptō (to bury) of uncertain origin.  It has long been thought derived (like the Armenian damban (tomb)) from the primitive Indo-European root dhembh- (to dig, bury) but recent scholarship has cast doubts and some etymologists suggest both the Armenian and Greek could be borrowings.  There were equivalent words in the Old English and regional variations were many; the one which survived longest was byrgelsleoð.

The companion words, which differ not only in nuance but in convention of use, include eulogy (an oration about the dead, delivered usually at a funeral or memorial service), obituary (something in written form published soon after death which provides a potted biography and epigraph (a quote engraved on a tombstone, variously plaintive, humorous or barbed).  Not quite the same but very to the point is the Latin hic jacet (literally “here lies”).  Epitaph is a noun or verb (used with object), epitaphic, epitaphial, epitaphed & epitaphless are adjectives, epitaphically is an adverb and epitaphist is a noun.  The noun plural is epitaphs.

Jonathan Swift's marble memorial, St Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin.

One of the most celebrated epitaphs in English was saeva indignatio (literally “savage indignation”) which appeared on the tomb of the delightfully wicked Anglo-Irish satirist & poet Jonathan Swift (1667-1745), expressing a resigned contempt at human folly.  Swift is probably best remembered for Gulliver's Travels (1726) but it was A Modest Proposal (1729) which defined the genre of satire and work in this vein is often still labeled "Swiftian".  Swift started his political life as a Whig but ended it a Tory, becoming an Anglican cleric who was appointed Dean of St Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin.

Swift not only wrote his own epitaph but left instructions also for the stonemason and the authorities of Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, the memorial to be rendered in black marble, mounted seven feet from the ground, the large letters to be deeply cut and strongly gilded.  His specifications were followed but the stridency of Swift's Latin displeased a few who, finding it harsh or inelegant, didn't always reproduce it with complete fidelity.  The translation into modern English is Here is laid the body of Jonathan Swift.....where savage indignation can no longer tear his heart. Depart, wayfarer, and imitate if you can a man who to his utmost strenuously championed liberty.  Fellow Irish poet William Butler Yeats (1865–1939) rendered it as the punchier Swift has sailed into his rest; savage indignation there cannot lacerate his breast.  Imitate him if you dare, world-besotted traveller; he served human liberty.

Epitaph (1990) by Charles Mingus (CBS–466631 2).

Charles Mingus (1922–1979) was an American double bassist, pianist, composer and bandleader and one of the seminal figures in jazz.  Although lauded for the way his bands would interpolate passages of collective improvisation into performance pieces, he was influential also in his structured compositions, some of which were, by the standards of the genre, unusually long.  None however matched his Epitaph, comprising over four-thousand measures (a grouping of beats, which indicates the meter of a particular piece of music) and demanding more than two hours to perform, ranking with epic-length pieces such as Wynton Marsalis’s (b 1961) Blood On The Fields (1997) and Carla Bley’s (b 1936) Escalator Over The Hill (1968-1971); only Wadada Leo Smith’s (b 1941) sprawling Ten Freedom Summers (2012), unfolding over five hours, runs longer.

It’s not clear how long Mingus worked on Epitaph and its gestation may have absorbed as long as Ten Freedom Summers (thirty-four years in the making) because fragments of Epitaph were performed as early as 1962 although whether it was then envisaged as what it became is unknown.  It was only after his death, while Mingus’s work was being catalogued, that the whole of Epitaph was assembled and the score compiled.  This enabled the piece to be performed in 1989 by a thirty-piece orchestra, conducted by Gunther Schuller (1925-2015) and produced by Mingus's widow, Sue Graham Mingus (b circa 1933).  It has since had a number of performances, several in 2007, and the complete score has been published.

Lindsay Lohan reading the epitaphs, graveyard scene in I know who killed me (2007).

Epitaph, full of melodies, is rewarding and not entirely unfamiliar because Mingus over the years included several snatches in live recordings and concerts preformed with smaller bands, playfully sampling the music of a few others in sections although that’s not typical of Epitaph, a work all have noted for its originality.  A two-hour suite for thirty-one musicians is not necessarily unwieldy but Epitaph is complicated and really demands a band both familiar with each-other and well-rehearsed.  It’s not the sort of piece suited to an ensemble, however virtuosic, assembled for a one-off performance and the definitive performance which one day will be released will likely have been carefully edited and polished from any number of studio sessions.  Technically, it’s challenging for a conductor, there are shifts between melodic strains which sometimes are sudden and sometimes overlap, parts apparently unresolved skid to a stop, tempos pick-up at various paces and there’s an underlying cross-talking between extreme-register instruments; doubtlessly it's no less difficult for the musicians, two pianists, two bassists, a drummer and two percussionists needing peacefully to co-exist although, this is Mingus and that means creative tension is lives between the notes.  Even once détente was established however, there's still the piece itself to conquer, not all of it in the familiar language of jazz for there are vertiginous jumps in register, fast phrases slurring effortlessly to the languid and the jar sometimes of the polytonality of which American composers of the twentieth century were so fond.  Critics and other aficionados of the art were enchanted but it’s suspected there were those who dipped in and out of their CD and listened just to the bits they liked.

Tuesday, March 8, 2022

Sequela

Sequela (pronounced si-kwel-uh or si-kwee-luh)

(1) Any abnormal bodily condition or disease related to or arising from a pre-existing disease

(2) Any complication of a disease (technically wrong but widely used).

(3) In general, non-medical usage, the terms sequela and sequelae mean consequence and consequences (rare except in academic writing).

1793: From the Latin sequēla (that which follows, consequence) from sequi (present active infinitive of sequor) (to follow); the plural is sequelae and the original use was in pathology.  From the same root, Middle English gained sequence, a borrowing from the French sequence (a sequence of cards, answering verses).  In Latin the related forms were sequentia (a following) and sequens (following); in English, the most common relation is sequel.

Strangely, in oral use, regardless of the details being described, sequela is used usually in the plural.  A sequela is a pathological condition caused by some previous disease, injury, therapy, or other trauma and, typically but not exclusively, is a chronic condition caused by an earlier and more acute condition.  It is different from, but is a consequence of, the first condition.  In medicine, to be defined as a sequela (rather than what is called “late effect”), the onset of the second condition must happen within a relatively (varies with the nature of the first) short time; an interval of decades would see the second dubbed a “late effect”.  Some conditions may be diagnosed retrospectively from their sequelae; an example is pleurisy and the range of symptoms now collectively referred to in medical slang as “Long COVID” is more correctly described as the “Post-acute Sequelae of COVID-19 (PASC)”.  As nouns, the difference between sequela and complication is that sequela is a condition which is caused by an earlier disease or problem.  A complication is something going wrong; an unfavorable result of a disease, health condition, or treatment.

The Sequelae of COVID-19

The novel virus SARS-CoV-2 caused the COVIS-19 pandemic.  Around the world, a subset of patients who sustain an acute SARS-CoV-2 infection subsequently develop a wide range of persistent symptoms that do not resolve, even over many months; the diagnosis is Post-acute sequelae of COVID-19 (PASC), the verbal shorthand for which is the more digestible Long COVID.  Thus far, all findings about PASC are inconclusive but it appears individual patients may have one or more underlying biological factors driving their symptoms, none of which need be mutually exclusive.  Potential contributors to PASC include injury to one or multiple organs, persistent reservoirs of SARS-CoV-2 in certain tissues, the induced re-activation of pathogens such as herpesviruses, SARS-CoV-2 interactions with host microbiome communities, clotting or coagulation issues, dysfunctional brainstem or nerve signaling, ongoing activity of primed immune cells and autoimmunity due to molecular mimicry between pathogen and host proteins.

Logo of the Sequela Foundation.

Different PASC symptoms in different patients does imply different therapeutic approaches will likely be required and the identification of individual human genome variants that may augment environment-driven contributions to PASC will contribute to strengthening the effort.  The individualized treatment of PASC will stimulate what was already a growing interest in personalized predictive & preventative medicine.

Monday, March 7, 2022

Farouche

Farouche (pronounced fa-roosh)

(1) Fierce; wild, unpolished.

(2) Sullenly unsociable or shy.

(3) Socially inept.

1760–1770: From the French farouche, from the Old French farouche, faroche & forasche of uncertain origin but which may be related to the Late Latin forāsticus (from without; belonging outside or out of doors (in the sense of not being sufficiently civilized to be welcomed indoors)), a derivative of the adverb and preposition forās (also forīs) ((to the) outside, abroad; out of doors).

In French, the evolution of meaning was organic and included (1) an animal shy of human contact (apprivoiser une bête farouche (to tame a wild beast)), (2) shy, unsociable, retiring, hesitant (un regard farouche (a shy glance)), (3) a women thought distant or unapproachable (Cette femme est bien farouche (this woman is very unapproachable)), (4) stubborn or intransigent, (5) things savage, dangerous & fierce and (6) those whose support is staunch.  Farouchement (fiercely, strongly, bitterly, doggedly, rabidly) is an adverb and the versatile effaroucher (to scare off an animal; figuratively to frighten or alarm somebody; to shock) is a verb.

Lindsay Lohan looking a tad farouche.

The use in French to refer to animals didn’t carry over to English (the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) actually denying the meaning in English doesn’t exist) except among those who like to throw in the odd foreign phrase.  As in French, farouche is used to describe people either habitually difficult or those having a difficult moment and such is the range of application to the human condition that it should be applied with some care, lest misunderstandings occur.  Although farouche can mean “wild, savage or fierce”, it can also mean “unsocial, socially awkward or reticent” while, at the end of the spectrum it can convey the sense of someone merely shy.  So it’s a wide vista and while the breadth is accommodated by the etymology, the Late Latin forāsticus (outsider; belonging outside the house) used in the sense of those lacking the polite manners to be invited into the house, the nuances of use are important.  In the most general sense, in English, farouche is a word for someone thought to be, where pathologically or by whim, an outsider.  For that reason, farouche in English translations needs to be understood in the tradition of French use.  Victor Hugo (1802–1885) in Les Misérables (1862) has Grantaire say “Je suis farouche” (I am farouche) and that's always been translated in the sense of “I am wild”.  In the same novel Enjolras is referred to as an “Antinuous farouche” (a wild Antinous), an allusion to the alluring Greek youth who was something of a companion to Hadrian (76–138; Roman emperor from 117 to 138).  In English, the use is almost exclusively of sullen or difficult people with no connection to beasts of the wild.

Farouche is most often used as an adjective but can be applied as a noun; the noun plural is farouches.  To soften the harshness of the word, most use touches like “a little farouche”, “a tad farouche”, “a bit on the farouche side” or “one of her farouche moments”.  The noun/adverb combination can be handy; farouches bored at dinner noted often farouchely fiddling with their phones.

Vitrescent

Vitrescent (pronounced vi-tres-uhnt)

(1) Becoming glass.

(2) Tending to become glass.

(3) Capable of being formed into glass.

1750–1760: A construct from the Latin vitr(um) (glass) + -escent (from the Latin –ēscēns (present participle of –ēscō) (I become); vitrescence is the noun.  Vitrum was from the Proto-Italic wedrom (glass), from the primitive Indo-European wed-ro- (water-like), from wed- (water) (from which Latin gained unda (water)). The semantic parallel exists also in Middle Iranian where "glass" is also derived from "water", the Middle Persian p̄ḵynk (ābgēnag) (crystal, glass), a compound of ʾp̄ (āb), (water) + -kyn' (-gēn) + -k' (-ag) from the Persian آبگینه (ābgīna) (glass).

Many verbs ending in -ēscō are inchoatives in -scō formed from statives in -. However, some verbs exist that are derived directly from the adjective, with no "intermediate" stative verb existing (eg amārus > amārēscō (but no amāreō) & celeber > celebrēscō (but no celebreō).

666

It’s an urban myth the glass panes in the Louvre Pyramid number exactly 666.  That number is known from the Book of Revelation (13:1-18) in the New Testament (in other ancient texts the number is given as 616 but 666 has long been the universal translation).

Then I saw another beast coming up out of the earth, and he had two horns like a lamb and spoke like a dragon. And he exercises all the authority of the first beast in his presence, and causes the earth and those who dwell in it to worship the first beast, whose deadly wound was healed.  He performs great signs, so that he even makes fire come down from heaven on the earth in the sight of men.

And he deceives those who dwell on the earth by those signs which he was granted to do in the sight of the beast, telling those who dwell on the earth to make an image to the beast who was wounded by the sword and lived.  He was granted power to give breath to the image of the beast, that the image of the beast should both speak and cause as many as would not worship the image of the beast to be killed.

He causes all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hand or on their foreheads and that no one may buy or sell except one who has the mark or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.

Here is wisdom. Let him who has understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man: His number is 666.

Either as misprint, mistake or mischief, promotional material published during the construction twice mentioned 666 panes (and once 672); there are actually 673 (603 rhombi & 70 triangles).

Lindsay Lohan in front of the Louvre Pyramid, Paris, March, 2015.

Undertaker

Undertaker (pronounced uhn-der-tey-ker)

(1) A person whose profession is the preparation of the dead for burial or cremation and the management of funerals (like embalmer, now mostly a historic reference, the preferred modern terms being funeral director or mortician)

(2) A person receiving land in Ireland during the Elizabethan era, so named because they gave an undertaking to abide by several conditions regarding marriage, to be loyal to the crown, and to use English as their spoken language (obsolete, now used only for historic references).

(3) A contractor for the royal revenue in England, one of those who undertook to manage the House of Commons for the king in the Addled Parliament of 1614 (obsolete, now used only for historic references).

(4) A person who undertakes something (became rare because of the likelihood of confusion with funeral directors but "undertake", "undertaking" and "undertaken" now common).  Historically, the word was associated in Middle and early Modern English with those running businesses but as the association with embalming and burials became pervasive, it came to be replaced with the French entrepreneur.

1350–1400: A compound word under- + -take- + -er, a back-formation from the earlier undertake (after undernim (from the Middle English undernimen, from the Old English underniman (to take in, receive, comprehend, understand, blame, be indignant at, take upon oneself, steal), the construct being under- + nim.  It was cognate with the Dutch ondernemen (to undertake, attempt) and the German unternehmen (to undertake, attempt).  Under is from the Middle English under-, from the Old English under-, from the Proto-Germanic under, from the primitive Indo-European n̥dhér (lower) and n̥tér (inside).

Take is from the Middle English taken (to take, lay hold of, grasp, strike), from the Old English tacan (to grasp, touch), of North Germanic origin, from the Old Norse taka (to touch, take), from the Proto-Germanic tēkaną (to touch), from the primitive Indo-European dehig- (to touch).  Gradually, it displaced the Middle English nimen (to take), from the Old English niman (to take).  It was cognate with the Icelandic and Norwegian Nynorsk taka (to take), the Norwegian Bokmål ta (to take), the Swedish ta (to take), the Danish tage (to take, seize), the Middle Dutch taken (to grasp), the Dutch taken (to take; grasp) and the Middle Low German tacken (to grasp); tackle is related.

The –er suffix was added to verbs to create a person or thing that does an action indicated by the root verb; used to form an agent noun.  It added to a noun it denoted an occupation.  The suffix is from the Middle English -er & -ere, from the Old English -ere, a borrowing from the Proto-Germanic -ārijaz, thought to have been borrowed from Latin -ārius and reinforced by the synonymous but unrelated Old French -or & -eor (the Anglo-Norman variant of which was -our), from the Latin -(ā)tor, from the primitive Indo-European -tōr.

Mercedes-Benz 600 Hearse

In English, undertaker was an agent noun from the verb undertake, the early meaning, strictly speaking, "a contractor of any sort hired to perform some task" but it was applied mostly to those engaged is some sort of commercial enterprise.  There had long been instances of the use of “funeral-undertaker” but by the 1690s, “undertaker” had come to mean almost exclusively those whose profession was to “embalm and bury”.  Most etymologists conclude this organic shift to linguistic exclusivity came via the word being used as a euphemism for the mechanics of the profession, matters of mortality something of a taboo topic.

Undertaker faded from use as “mortician” and “funeral director” came to be preferred, firstly in the US with the latter soon becoming the standard form in the rest of the English-speaking world.  It was at the July 1895 meeting of the Funeral Directors' Association of Kentucky that it was proclaimed “…an undertaker will no longer be known as an "undertaker and embalmer." In the future he will be known as the "mortician."  This soon spread and the term undertaker is now almost unknown except in historic references or in figurative use in fields such as politics and sport.  In general use, the words "undertake", "undertaken" or "undertaking" are now used to describe just about any activity and with no sense of a taint of association with corpses. 

In the narrow technical sense, even in modern use, the terms funeral director, mortician, and undertaker mean the same thing (a person who supervises or conducts the preparation of the dead for burial and directs or arranges funerals"  Nuances have however emerged, especially in the US where a funeral director tends to be someone who owns or operates a funeral home whereas the term mortician implies a technical role, a person who handles the body (the embalmer) in preparation for a funeral.  Often of course, these roles are combined, especially in smaller operations so for practical purposes, funeral director and mortician are generally interchangeable.  Although it would probably once have seemed a bizarre construction, there are also now funeral celebrants who officiate at ceremonies not (or only vaguely) connected with religious practice and are thus analogous to the civil celebrants who perform secular marriage ceremonies.  They're not directly connected with the school of thought which prefers to "celebrate a life" rather than "mourn a death" at a funeral, an approach which can be taken even in an overtly religious service.  

So it's largely a matter of how those within the profession prefer to style themselves and Funeral Director seems now the most popular choice although mortician remains widely used in the US.  Mirriam-Webster provides:

Funeral DirectorA person whose job is to arrange and manage funerals.

MorticianA person whose job is to prepare dead people to be buried and to arrange and manage funerals.

UndertakerOne whose business is to prepare the dead for burial and to arrange and manage funerals.

1967 Mercedes-Benz 600 (W100) hearse by German coach builders, Pollmann of Bremen.

Built on a (lengthened) 1967 short wheelbase (SWB) platform, it’s a genuine one-off, the only 600 hearse ever built.  The story (which may be true), repeated whenever it’s offered for sale, is it was originally a sedan purchased by a German farmer (always referred to as Herr K) whose particular experience of the Wirtschaftswunder (the German post-war economic miracle) was the massive capital gain he enjoyed when he sold his farmland for urban development.  Happy, he bought Mercedes-Benz 600 (in champagne metallic gold) for his wife and commissioned an architect to design a house for them to enjoy.  Unfortunately, he arrived home one day to find the ungrateful hausfrau had run off with the architect and, unable to bear to keep the 600 because it was a reminder of the strumpet’s infidelity, he returned the car to the dealer to off-load.  It was sold to the coach-builders Pollmann which converted it to a hearse which seems appropriate although it's not known if the former farmer was impressed by the symbolism of the transformation.  It was used for some years for the purpose for which it was designed and has since been restored by US-based expert in all things 600esque, Karl Middelhauve.

The Machete funeral hearse

Lindsay Lohan in habit, emerging from hearse in Machete (2010).  The Machete hearse was based on a 1987 Cadillac Brougham (1987-1992).

Between 1931-1979, General Motors' Cadillac division offered a line called the Cadillac Commercial Chassis, a long-wheelbase, heavy-duty platform which was mechanically complete but with a partially built body (without bodywork rear of the windscreen, doors and other panels included on request).  Produced on the D platform (exclusive to Cadillac), the "Commercial Chassis" was used by coach-builders to create high-roofed ambulances, hearses (often called funeral coaches in the US) and cleverly designed hybrids which at short notice could be converted from ambulances to hearses or used by a coroner's staff to transport a corpse; these multi-purpose devices were popular in towns with small populations.  The early Commercial Chassis were based on the Series 355 (1931-1935) and the Series 75 (1936-1992) from 1936 and although there were specific modification to the frame, the mechanical components were always shared with the 75 which, used for the big limousines, meant costs were amortized across the ranges.  After 1980, production continued on the downsized platform but there was no longer a separate D platform, the partially bodied cars structurally identical to the mainstream line.

1960 Mercedes-Benz 300d Cabriolet D (left) and 1960 Cadillac hearse (Funeral Carriage) on the Commercial Chassis (right).

Dating from the age of horse drawn carriages, the landau irons (which some coachbuilders insist should be called "carriage bars") on the rear side-panels of hearses emulate in style (though not function) those used on carriages and early automobiles (the last probably the Mercedes-Benz 300 (the “Adenauer”; W186 (1951-1957) & W189 (1957-1962)) Cabriolet D).  On those vehicles, the irons actually supported the folding mechanism for the fabric roof but on hearses they are merely decorative, there to relieve the slab-sidedness of the expanse of flat metal.  The alternative approach with hearses is to use a more conventional glass panel, usually with curtains fitted which can be drawn as desired.  In many cases, there is a desire to make the coffin (casket) as visible as possible because some, to permit the dead a final act of conspicuous consumption, are crafted with some extravagance.

1971 Ford Thunderbird with standard vinyl roof (left) and 1967 Ford Thunderbird with the vinyl removed (right).

There was however one curious use of a stylized iron for a purpose which was both functional and aesthetic.  When, in a sign of the times, the 1967-1971 Ford Thunderbird included a four-door sedan rather than a convertible as a companion to the coupés in the range, the sedans were fitted with the combination of the irons and a vinyl roof.  In this one, unique, case the irons and the vinyl actually improved rather than detracted from the appearance because, built on a surprisingly short wheelbase, the Thunderbird had to be fitted with rather short rear doors (also compelling the use of the front-opening "suicide door" configuration) and to accommodate the shape of C-pillar, each had to intrude on the other.  What the (always dark) vinyl and the sweep of the irons did was conceal the compromise and for that reason, this generation of Thunderbirds is probably the only car where vinyl roofs are rarely removed because exposing the metal results in a very strange look.  Because (1) they're ugly and (2) they trap moisture, thereby encouraging rust, removing a vinyl roof usually improves the appearance of a car but this is the one exception.       

Sunday, March 6, 2022

War

War (pronounced wawr)

(1) A conflict carried on by force of arms, as between nations or between parties within a nation; warfare, as by land, sea, or air; in the singular, a specific conflict (eg Second Punic War).

(2) A state or period of armed hostility or active military operations.

(3) A contest carried on by force of arms, as in a series of battles or campaigns.

(4) By extension, a descriptor for various forms of non-armed conflict (war on poverty, trade war, war on drugs, war on cancer, war of words etc).

(5) A type of card game played with a 52 card pack.

(6) A battle (archaic).

(7) To conduct a conflict.

(8) In law, the standard abbreviation for warrant (and in England, the county Warwickshire.

Pre 1150: The noun was from the Middle English werre, from the late Old English were, were & wyrre (large-scale military conflict) (which displaced the native Old English ġewinn), from the Old Northern French were & werre (variant of Old French guerre (difficulty, dispute; hostility; fight, combat, war)), from the Medieval Latin werra, from the Frankish werru (confusion; quarrel), from the Old Norse verriworse and was cognate with the Old High German werra (confusion, strife, quarrel), the German verwirren (to confuse), the Old Saxon werran (to confuse, perplex), the Dutch war (confusion, disarray) and the West Frisian war (defense, self-defense, struggle (also confusion).  Root was the primitive Indo-European wers- (to mix up, confuse, beat, perplex) and the Cognates are thought to suggest the original sense was "to bring into a state of confusion”.  The verb was from the Middle English, from the late Old English verb transitive werrien (to make war upon) and was derivative of the noun.  The alternative English form warre was still in use as late as the seventeenth century.

Developments in other European languages including the Old French guerrer and the Old North French werreier.  The Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian guerra also are from the Germanic; why those speaking Romanic tongues turned to the Germanic for a word meaning "war" word is speculative but it may have been to avoid the Latin bellum (from which is derived bellicose) because its form tended to merge with bello- (beautiful).  Interestingly and belying the reputation later gained, there was no common Germanic word for "war" at the dawn of historical times.  Old English had many poetic words for "war" (wig, guð, heaðo, hild, all common in personal names), but the usual one to translate Latin bellum was gewin (struggle, strife (and related to “win”).

War-time appeared first in the late fourteenth century; the territorial conflicts against Native Americans added several forms including warpath (1775), war-whoop (1761), war-dance (1757), war-song (1757) & war-paint (1826) the last of which came often to be applied to war-mongering (qv) politicians (as in "putting on their war-paint"), a profession which does seem to attract blood-thirsty non-combatants.  War crimes, although widely discussed for generations, were first discussed in the sense of being a particular set of acts which might give rise to specific offences which could be codified in International Law: A Treatise (1906) by LFL Oppenheim (1858–1919).  The war chest dates from 1901 although even then it’s use was certainly almost always figurative; in the distant past there presumably had in treasuries been chests of treasure to pay for armies.  War games, long an essential part of military planning, came to English from the German Kriegspiel, the Prussians most advanced in such matters because the innovative structure of their general staff system.

In English, war is most productive as a modifier, adjective etc and examples include: Types of war: Cold War, holy war, just war, civil war, war of succession, war of attrition, war on terror etc; Actual wars: World War I, Punic Wars, First Gulf War, Korean War, Hundred Years' War, Thirty Years' War, Six-day War etc; Campaigns against various social problems: War on Poverty, War on Drugs, War on cancer; The culture wars: War on Christmas, war on free speech; In commerce: Price wars, Cola Wars, turf war; In crime: turf war (also used in conventional commerce), gang war, Castellammarese War; In technology: Bus wars, operating system wars, browser wars; Various: pre-war, post-war, inter-war, man-o'-war, war cabinet, warhead, warhorse, warlord, war between the sexes, war bond, war reparations, war room.

Film set for the War Room in Dr Strangelove (1964).

Pre-war and post-war need obviously to be used in context; “pre-war” which in the inter-war years almost always meant pre-1914, came after the end of WWII to mean pre-1939 (even in US historiography).  “Post-war” tracked a similar path and now probably means the years immediately after WWII, the era generally thought to have ended (at the latest) in 1973 when the first oil shock ended the long boom.  Given the propensity over the centuries for wars between (tribes, cities, kings, states etc) to flare up from time to time, there have been many inter-war periods but the adjective inter-war didn’t come into wide use until the 1940s when it was used exclusively to describe the period (1918-1939) between the world wars.  The phrase “world war”, although tied to the big, multi-theatre conflicts of the twentieth century, had been used speculatively as early as 1898, then in the context of the US returning the Philippines (then a colonial possession) to Spain, trigging European war into which she might be drawn.  “Word War” (referring to the 1914-1918 conflict which is regarded as being “world-wide” since 1917 when the US entered as a belligerent) was used almost as soon as the war started but “Great War” continued to be the preferred form until 1939 when used of “world war” spiked; World War II came into use even before Russian, US & Japanese involvement in 1941.  For as long as there have been the war-like there’s presumably been the anti-war faction but the adjectival anti-war (also antiwar) came into general use only in 1812, an invention of American English, in reference to opposition to the War of 1812, the use extending by 1821 to describe a position of political pacifism which opposed all war.  War-monger (and warmonger) seems first to have appeared in Edmund Spenser’s (circa 1552-1599) Faerie Queene (1590) although it’s possible it may have prior currency.  The warhead was from 1989, used by engineers to describe the "explosive part of a torpedo", the use later transferred during the 1940s to missiles.  The warhorse, attested from the 1650s, was a "powerful horse ridden into war", one selected for strength and spirit and the figurative sense of "seasoned veteran" of anything dates from 1837.  The (quasi-offensive though vaguely admiring) reference to women perceived as tough was noted in 1921.

Man-of-war (a soldier and) is an old form while the meaning "armed ship, vessel equipped for warfare" is from the late fifteenth century and was one of the primary warships of early-modern navies, the sea creature known as the Portuguese man-of-war (1707) so called for its sail-like crest.  The more common form was “man o' War”.  The Cold War may have started as early as 1946 but certainly existed from some time in 1947-1948; it was a form of "non-hostile belligerency” (although the death–toll in proxy-wars fought for decades on its margins was considerable);  it seems first to have appeared in print in October 1945 in a piece by George Orwell (1903—1950).  The companion phrase “hot war” is actually just a synonym for “war” and makes sense only if used in conjunction with “cold war”.  The cold war was memorably defined by Lord Cherwell (Professor Frederick Lindemann, 1886–1957) as “two sides for years counting their missiles”.

The civil war (battles among fellow citizens or within a community (as opposed to between tribes, cities, nations etc)) for civil in a sense of "occurring among fellow citizens" is noted from the fourteenth century in batayle ciuile (civil battle), the exact phrase “civil war” attested from late fifteenth century (bella civicus in the Latin).  A word for the type of conflict in the Old English was ingewinn and in Ancient Greek it had been polemos epidemios.  The instances of what would now be called civil war pre-date antiquity but the early references typically were in reference to ancient Rome where the conflicts were, if not more frequent, certainly better documented.  The struggle in England between the parliament and Charles I (1600-1649) has always and correctly been known as the English Civil War (1642-1651) whereas there are scholars who insist the US Civil War (1861-1865) should rightly be called the “War of Secession”, the “war between the States" or the “Federal-Confederate War”.  None of the alternatives ever managed great traction and “US Civil War” has long been the accepted form although, when memories were still raw, if there was ever a disagreement about this, the parties seem inevitability to have settled on “the War”.  The phrases pre-war and post-war are never applied the US Civil War, the equivalents being the Latin forms ante-bellum (literally “before the war”) and post-bellum (literally “after the war”).

Colonel Nasser, president of Egypt, Republic Square, Cairo, 22 February 1958.

During the centuries when rules were rare, wars were not but there was little discussion about whether or not a war was happening.  There would be debates about the wisdom of going to war or the strategy adopted but whether or not it was a war was obvious to all.  That changed after the Second World War when the charter of the United Nations was agreed to attempt to ensure force would never again be used as a means of resolving disputes between nations.  That's obviously not been a success but the implications of the charter have certainly affected the language of conflict, much now hanging on whether an event is war or something else which merely looks like war.  An early example of the linguistic lengths to which those waging war (a thing of which they would have boasted) would go, in the post-charter world, to deny they were at war happened after British, French and Israeli forces in 1956 invaded Egypt in response to Colonel Gamal Nasser's (1918–1970; president of Egypt 1954-1970) nationalization of foreign-owned Suez Canal Company.  The invasion was a military success but it soon became apparent that Israel, France and Britain were, by any standards, waging an aggressive war and had conspired, ineptly, to make it appear something else.  The United States threatened sanctions against Britain & France and the invading forces withdrew.  There's always been the suspicion that in the wake of this split in the Western Alliance, the USSR seized the opportunity to intervene in Hungary which was threatening to become a renegade province.

Suez Canal, 1956.

In the House of Commons (Hansard: 1 November 1956 (vol 558 cc1631-7441631)), the prime minister (Anthony Eden, 1897–1977, UK prime-minister 1955-1957) was asked to justify how what appeared to be both an invasion and an act of aggressive war could be in conformity with the Charter of the United Nations.  Just to jog the prime-minister's memory of the charter, the words he delivered at the UN's foundation conference in San Francisco in 1945 were read out: “At intervals in history mankind has sought by the creation of international machinery to solve disputes between nations by agreement and not by force.”  In reply, Mr Eden assured the house there had been "...no declaration of war by us.", a situation he noted prevailed for the whole of the Korean War and while there was in Egypt clearly "...a state of armed conflict...", just as in Korea, "...there was no declaration of war.  It was never admitted that there was a state of war, and Korea was never a war in any technical or legal sense, nor are we at war with Egypt now."

Quite how the comparison with Korea, a police action under the auspices of the UN and authorized by the Security Council (the USSR was boycotting the place at the time) was relevant escaped many of the prime-minister's critics.  The UK had issued an ultimatum to Egypt regarding the canal which contained conditions as to time and other things; the time expired and the conditions were not accepted.  It was then clear in international law that in those circumstances the country which delivers the ultimatum is not entitled to carry on hostilities without a declaration of war so the question was what legal justification was there for an invasion?  The distinction between a “state of war" and a "state of armed conflict", whatever its relevance to certain technical matters, seemed not to matter in the fundamental question of the lawfulness of the invasion under international law.  Mr Eden continued to provide many answers but none to that question.

The aversion to declaring war continues to this day, the United States, hardly militarily inactive during the last eight-odd decades, last declared war in 1942 and that was against Italy.  There is it seems, even an aversion to the word, the UK not having had a secretary of state (minister) for war since 1964 and the US becoming (nominally) pacifist even earlier, the last secretary of war serving in 1947; the more UN-friendly “defense” the preferred word on both sides of the Atlantic.  In the Kremlin, Mr Putin (b 1952; prime-minister or president of Russia since 1999) seems also have come not to like the word.  While apparently sanguine at organizing “states of armed conflict”, he’s as reluctant as Mr Eden to hear his “special military operations” described as “invasions” or “wars” and in a recent legal flourish, arranged the passage of a law which made “mentioning the war” unlawful.

Not mentioning the peacekeeping operation: Mr Putin.

The bill which the Duma (lower house of parliament) & Federation Council (upper house) passed, and the president rapidly signed into law, provided for fines or imprisonment for up to fifteen years in the Gulag for intentionally spreading “fake news” or “discrediting the armed forces”, something which includes labelling the “special military operation” in Ukraine as a “war” or “invasion”.  Presumably, given the circumstances, the action could be described as a “state of armed conflict” and even Mr Putin seems to have stopped calling it a “peacekeeping operation”; he may have thought the irony too subtle for the audience.  Those who post or publish anything on the matter will be choosing their words with great care so as not to mention the war.

However, although Mr Putin may not like using the word “war”, there’s much to suggest he’s a devotee of the to the most famous (he coined a few) aphorism of Prussian general & military theorist Carl von Clausewitz (1780–1831): “War is the continuation of policy with other means.  The view has many adherents and while some acknowledge its cynical potency with a weary regret, for others it has been a word view to purse with relish.  In the prison diary assembled from the huge volume of fragments he had smuggled out of Spandau prison while serving the twenty year sentence he was lucky to receive for war crimes & crimes against humanity (Spandauer Tagebücher (Spandau, the Secret Diaries), pp 451 William Collins Inc, 1976), Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) recounted one of Adolf Hitler’s (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) not infrequent monologues and the enthusiastic concurrence by the sycophantic Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945):

"In the summer of 1939, On the terrace of the Berghof [Hitler’s alpine retreat], Hitler was pacing back and forth with one of his military adjutants. The other guests respectfully withdrew to the glassed-in veranda.  But in the midst of an animated lecture he was giving to the adjutant, Hitler called to us to join him on the terrace. “They should have listened to Moltke and struck at once” he said, resuming the thread of his thought, “as soon as France recovered her strength after the defeat in 1871.  Or else in 1898 and 1899.  America was at war with Spain, the French were fighting the English at Fashoda and were at odds with them over the Sudan, and England was having her problems with the Boers in South Africa, so that she would soon have to send her army in there.  And what a constellation there was in 1905 also, when Russia was beaten by Japan.   The rear in the East no threat, France and England on good terms, it is true, but without Russia no match for the Reich militarily. It’s an old principle: He who seizes the initiative in war has won more than a battle.  And after all, there was a war on!”  Seeing our stunned expressions, Hitler threw in almost irritably: “There is always a war on. The Kaiser [Wilhelm II (1859–1941; German Emperor & King of Prussia 1888-1918)] hesitated too long."

Such epigrams usually transported Ribbentrop into a state of high excitement.  At these moments it was easy to see that he alone among us thought he was tracking down, along with Hitler, the innermost secrets of political action.  This time, too, he expressed his agreement with Hitler with that characteristic compound of subservience and the hauteur of an experienced traveller whose knowledge of foreign ways still made an impression on Hitler.  Ribbentrop’s guilt, that is, did not consist in his having made a policy of war on his own. Rather, he was to blame for using his authority as a supposed cosmopolite to corroborate Hider’s provincial ideas. The war itself was first and last Hitler’s idea and work.  “That is exactly what neither the Kaiser nor the Kaiser’s politicians ever really understood,” Ribbentrop was loudly explaining to everyone.  There’s always a war on. The difference is only whether the guns are firing or not.  There’s war in peacetime too. Anyone who has not realized that cannot make foreign policy.

Hider threw his foreign minister a look of something close to gratitude.  Yes, Ribbentrop,” he said, “yes!"  He was visibly moved by having someone in this group who really understood him. “When the time comes that I am no longer here, people must keep that in mind.  Absolutely. And then, as though carried away by his insight into the nature of the historical process, he went on: “Whoever succeeds me must be sure to have an opening for a new war.  We never want a static situation where that sort of thing hangs in doubt In future peace treaties we must therefore always leave open a few questions that will provide a pretext.  Think of Rome and Carthage, for instance. A new war was always built right into every peace treaty. That's Rome for you! That's statesmanship.

Pleased with himself, Hitler twisted from side to side, looking challengingly around the attentive, respectful circle.  He was obviously enjoying the vision of himself beside the statesmen of ancient Rome.  When he occasionally compared Ribbentrop with Bismarck—a comparison I myself sometimes heard him make—he was implying that he himself soared high above the level of bourgeois nationalistic policy.  He saw himself in the dimensions of world history. And so did we.  We went to the veranda. Abruptly, as was his way, he began talking about something altogether banal."