Deliquesce

Deliquesce (pronounced del-i-kwes)

(1) In physical chemistry, to become liquid by absorbing moisture from the atmosphere and dissolving in it (best illustrated by the behavior of certain salts).

(2) To melt away; to disappear (used literally & figuratively).

(3) In botany, branching so the stem is lost in branches (as is typical in deciduous trees).

(4) In mycology (of the fruiting body of a fungus), becoming liquid as a phase of its life cycle.

1756: From the Latin dēliquēscere (to become liquid), the construct being dē- + liquēscere (to liquefy; liquescent).  In scientific literature, the adjective deliquescent (liquefying in air) is the most commonly used form.  It was from the Latin deliquescentem (nominative deliquescens), present participle of deliquescere (to melt away), the construct being de- + liquesco (I melt) and familiar in French also as déliquescent.  The de- prefix was from the Latin dē-, from the preposition dē (of, from (the Old English æf- was a similar prefix).  It imparted the sense of (1) reversal, undoing, removing, (2) intensification and (3) from, off.  In French the dé- prefix was used to make antonyms (as un- & dis- function in English) and was partially inherited from the Old and Middle French des-, from the Latin dis- (part), the ultimate source being the primitive Indo-European dwís and partially borrowed from Latin dē-.  The figurative sense of “apt to dissolve or melt away” was in use by 1837 while the verb deliquesce appears not to have been used thus until the late 1850s.  In scientific literature, the adjective deliquescent (liquefying in air) is the most commonly used form.  It was from the Latin deliquescentem (nominative deliquescens), present participle of deliquescere (to melt away), the construct being de- + liquesco (I melt) and familiar in French also as déliquescent.  The figurative sense of “apt to dissolve or melt away” was in use by 1837 while the verb deliquesce appears not to have been used thus until the late 1850s.    Deliquesce, deliquesced & deliquescing are verbs, deliquescent is an adjective, deliquescence is a noun and deliquescently is an adverb; the noun plural is deliquescences.

Deliquesce 1, oil on canvas by Tammy Flynn Seybold (b 1966).

This was the first in the Deliquesce Series, a group of works exploring the themes of transformation and conservation of energy in human forms, the artist noting being intrigued by the deceptively ephemeral nature of materials: “We think of objects - human forms included - as decaying, degrading or ‘disappearing’ but, as we know from the laws of thermodynamics, all energy is conserved - like matter, it is merely transformed from one form to another.  This work, painted with pastel-hued oils was made directly from a live model, the drips allowed organically to happen from her languid form and by using light, bright hues, I hoped to bring a spirit of optimism to this transformative process.”

A footnote to the addition of deliquesce to scientific English is a tale of the chance intersection of politics and chemistry.  Dr Charles Lucas (1713–1771) was an Anglo-Irish physician who held the seat of Dublin City in the Irish Parliament and was what now would be called “a radical”, dubbed at the time “Irish Wilkes” (a nod to the English radical politician John Wilkes (1725–1797).  His early career was as an apothecary and he was shocked discover the fraud and corruption which permeated the industry and in an attempt to reform the abuses published A Short Scheme for Preventing Frauds and Abuses in Pharmacy (1735) which much upset his fellow apothecaries who were the beneficiaries of the crooked ways but the parliament did respond and created legislation regulating standards in medicines and providing for the inspection of the products; it was the first of its kind in the English-speaking world and the ancestor of the elaborate framework of rules today administered by entities such as the US FDA (Food & Drug Administration.  Encouraged, he later published Pharmacomastix, or the Office, Use, and Abuse of Apothecaries Explained (1741), the contents of which were used by the parliament to make certain legislative amendments.

However, as well as a radical, Lucas was a idealist and while the establishment was content to support him in matter of pills and potions, when he intruded into areas which disturbed the political equilibrium, they were less tolerant and, facing imprisonment, Lucas fled to the continent where he’d decided to study medicine, graduating as a doctor in 1752.  One of his first projects as a physician was a study of the composition of certain mineral waters, substances then held to possess some remarkable curative properties (something actually not without some basis).  To undertake his research he visited a number of sites including Spa, Aachen in what is now North Rhine-Westphalia and Bath in the English county of Somerset.  The material he assembled and published as An Essay on Waters. In three Parts: (i) of Simple Waters, (ii) of Cold Medicated Waters, (iii) of Natural Baths (1756) and it was in this work that the verb “deliquesce” first appeared.  Ever the “disturber” Dr Lucas’s tract upset the medical establishment in much the same way two decades earlier he’d stirred the enmity of the apothecaries, the cluster of physicians clustered around the Bath spa angered the interloper hadn’t consulted with them on a topic over which they asserted proprietorship.

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

In chemistry, the companion word of deliquescence is hygroscopy, both describing phenomena related to the ability of substances to absorb moisture from the surrounding environment, but they differ in extent and behavior.  Hygroscopy refers to the ability of a substance to absorb moisture from the air when exposed; hygroscopic substances can attract and hold water molecules onto their surface but tend not to dissolve.  Many salts behave thus and a well-known example of practical application is the silica gel, which, in small porous packages, is often used as a desiccant to absorb moisture in packaging. Deliquescence can be thought of an extreme form of hygroscopy (hydroscopy taken to its natural conclusion) in that a substance which deliquesces not only absorbs moisture from the air but also absorbs it to the point where it dissolves completely in the absorbed water, forming a solution.  In the natural environment, this happens most frequently when the relative humidity of the surrounding air is high and the classic deliquescent substances are salts like calcium chloride, magnesium chloride, zinc chloride, ferric chloride, carnallite, potassium carbonate, potassium phosphate, ferric ammonium citrate, ammonium nitrate, potassium hydroxide, & sodium hydroxide.  Presumably because deliquescence is the extreme form of hydroscopy it was the former which came to be used figuratively (dissolving into “nothing”) while the latter did not.

At the chemical level, hygroscopy (a class in which scientists include deliquescence as a sub-set) describes the phenomenon of attracting and holding water molecules via either absorption or adsorption (the adhesion of a liquid or gas on the surface of a solid material, forming a thin film on the surface.) from the surrounding environment.  Hygroscopy is integral to the biology of many plant and animal species' attainment of hydration, nutrition, reproduction and/or seed dispersal.  Linguistically, hygroscopy is quirky in that the construct is hygro- (moisture; humidity), from the Ancient Greek ὑγρός (hugrós) (wet, moist) + -scopy (observation, viewing), from the Ancient Greek σκοπέω (skopéō) (to see (and the source of the Modern English “scope”) yet unlike other forms suffixed by “-scopy”, it no longer conveys the sense of “viewing or imaging”.  Originally that was the case, a hygroscope in the late eighteenth century understood as a device used to measure humidity but in a wholly organic way this use faded (“dissolving deliquescently to nothing” as it were) while hygroscopic (tending to retain moisture) & hygroscopy (the ability to do so) endured.  The modern instrument used to measure humidity is hygrometer, the construct being hygro- + -meter (the suffix from the Ancient Greek μέτρον (métron) (measure) used to form the names of measuring devices.

Inquire & Enquire

Inquire (pronounced in-kwahyuhr)

(1) To seek information by questioning; to ask.

(2) To make an investigation (usually followed by into).

(3) To seek (obsolete).

(4) To question (a person) (obsolete).

1250–1300: From the Middle English enqueren & anqueren (to ask (a question), ask about, ask for (specific information); learn or find out by asking, seek information or knowledge; to conduct a legal or official investigation (into an alleged offense)), from the Latin inquīrere (to seek for), replacing the Middle English enqueren, from the Old French enquerre, also from Latin.  The construct in Latin was from in- (into) + quaerere (to seek).  The prefix -in is quirky because it can act either to negate or intensify.  The general rule is that when prepended to a noun or adjective, it reinforces the quality signified and when prepended to an adjective, it negates the meaning, the latter mostly in words borrowed from French.  The Latin prefix in- was from the Proto-Italic en-, from the primitive Indo-European n̥- (not), the zero-grade form of the negative particle ne (not) and was akin to ne-, nē & nī.  In Modern English it is from the Middle English in-, from Old English in- (in, into), from the Proto-Germanic in, from the primitive Indo-European en.  Inquiry & inquirer are nouns, inquiring is a noun, verb & adjective, inquires is a verb, inquirable & inquisitive are adjective and inquiringly is an adverb; the noun plural is inquiries.  The verb inquireth is listed by most as archaic and forms such as reinquired & reinquiring have been coined as needed.

So the in- in inquire is not related to in- (not), also a common prefix in Latin and this created a tradition of confusion which persists to this day.  In Ancient Rome, impressus could mean "pressed" or "unpressed; inaudire meant "to hear" but inauditus meant "unheard of; invocatus was "uncalled, uninvited," but invocare was "to call, appeal to".  In Late Latin investigabilis could mean "that may be searched into" or "that cannot be searched into”.  English picked up the confusion and it’s not merely a linguistic quirk because mixing up the meaning of inflammable could have ghastly consequences.  Fortunately, some of the duplicity has died out: Implume, noted from the 1610s meant "to feather," but implumed (from a decade or more earlier meant "unfeathered".  Impliable could be held to mean "capable of being implied" (1865) or "inflexible" (1734).  Impartible in the seventeenth century simultaneously could mean "incapable of being divided" or "capable of being imparted" and, surprisingly, impassionate can mean "free from passion" or "strongly stirred by passion" (used wrongly that certainly could have inintended consequences).  The adjective inanimate was generally understood to indicate "lifeless" but John Donne (1572–1631), when using inanimate as a verb meant "infuse with life or vigor." Irruption is "a breaking in" but irruptible is "unbreakable".

In addition to improve "use to one's profit", Middle English also had the fifteenth century verb improve meaning "to disprove".  To inculpate is "to accuse," but inculpable means "not culpable, free from blame".  Infestive (a creation of the 1560s, from infest) originally meant "troublesome, annoying" but by the 1620s meant "not festive".  Bafflingly, in Middle English, inflexible could mean both "incapable of being bent" or "capable of being swayed or moved".  During the seventeenth century, informed could mean "current in information" formed, animated" or "unformed, formless", an unhelpful situation the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) described as “an awkward use".  Just a bizarre was that in the mid-sixteenth century inhabited meant "dwelt in" yet within half-a-century was being used to describe "uninhabited".  Some dictionaries insist the adjectives unenquired & unenquiring really exist but there’s scant evidence of use.  A noted derivation with some history is inquisitor.  Synonyms and words with a similar sense include examine, inspect, interrogate, investigate, analyze, catechize, explore, grill, hit, knock, probe, check, prospect, pry, query, question, roast, scrutinize, search, seek & sift.

Enquire (pronounced en-kwahyuhr)

A variant form of inquire

Circa 1300: From the Middle English enqueren & anqueren, (to ask (a question), to ask about, to ask for (specific information); learn or find out by asking, seek information or knowledge; to conduct a legal or official investigation (into an alleged offense)), from the Old French enquerre (to ask, inquire about) (which persists in Modern French as enquérir) and directly from the Medieval Latin inquīrere (to seek for).  As long ago as the fourteenth century the spelling of the English word was changed following the Latin model, but, in the annoying way that happens sometimes in English, the half-Latinized enquire persists and some people have even invented “rules” about when it should be used instead of inquire.   Sensibly, the Americans ignore these suggestions and use inquire for all purposes.  In Old French the Latin in- often became en- and such was the influence on Middle English that the form spread and although English developed a strong tendency to revert to the Latin in-, this wasn’t universal, thus pairs such as enquire/inquire which is why there must always be some sympathy for those learning the language.  There was a native form, which in West Saxon usually appeared as on- (as in the Old English onliehtan (to enlighten)) and some of those verbs survived into Middle English (such as inwrite (to inscribe)) but all are said now to be long extinct.

Enquire or inquire?

Lindsay Lohan says the spelling is "inquiry" so that must be right.

The English word was re-spelled as early as the fourteenth century on the Latin model but the half-Latinized "enquire" has never wholly gone away.  Outside of North America, it's not unknown to come across documents where "inquire" & "enquire" both appear, not in tribute to a particular "rule" of use but just because it hasn't been noticed; it's probably most associated with documents which are partially the product of chunks of texts being "cut and paste".  In the US, where the enquire vs inquire "problem" doesn’t exist because inquire is universal, this must seem a strange and pointless squabble because hearing a sentence like "She enquired when the Court of Inquiry was to hold its hearings" would unambiguously be understood and if written down, there could be no confusion if the spelling forms were to appear in either order.  So,  some hold it would be a fine idea if the rest of the English-speaking world followed the sensible lead of the Americans and stuck to "inquire" but history suggests that’s not going to happen and some suggestions for a convention of use have been offered:

(1) Enquire & enquiry are "formal" words to convey the sense of "ask" whereas inquire & inquiry are used to describe some structured form of investigation (such as a "Court of Inquiry").

(2) Enquire is to be used in informal writing and inquire in formal text.

Neither of those suggestions seem to make as much sense as adopting the US spelling and probably just adds a needless layer to a simple word; enquire and inquire mean the same thing: to ask, to seek information, or to investigate. One is therefore unnecessary and enquire should be retired, simply on the basis the Americans already have and there’s lots of them.  Those who resist should follow the one golden rule which is consistency: whatever convention of use is adopted, exclusively it should be used. 

The ultimate court of inquiry, the Spanish Inquisition and the DDF

The Spanish Inquisition, conducting their inquiries.

The Tribunal del Santo Oficio de la Inquisición (Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition), known famously as the Inquisición española (Spanish Inquisition) was created in 1478 by the Roman Catholic Monarchs, King Ferdinand II (1452–1516; king of Aragon 1479-1516, king of Castile 1475-1504 (as Ferdinand V)) and Queen Isabella I (1451–1504; queen of Castile 1474-1504, queen of Aragon 1479-1504), its remit the enforcement of orthodox Church doctrine in their kingdoms.  Ostensibly established to combat heresy in Spain (though eventually its remit extended throughout the Spanish Empire), the real purpose was to consolidate the power of the monarchy of the newly unified Spanish kingdom.  Its methods were famously brutish and although many records were lost, it's thought close to two hundred-thousand individuals came to the attention of the Inquisition and as many as five-thousand may have been killed; during the tenure of Castilian Dominican friar Tomás de Torquemada (1420–1498), the first grand inquisitor, it's believed some two-thousand were burned at the stake.  Suppressed first by Joseph-Napoléon Bonaparte (1768–1844; king of Naples (1806–1808) and king of Spain (1808–1813)) in 1808, it was restored by Ferdinand VII (1784–1833; king of Spain 1808 & 1813-1830) in 1814, suppressed in 1820, and restored in 1823.  It was finally abolished in 1834 by the Spanish queen regent María Cristina de Borbón (Maria Christina of the Two Sicilies 1806–1878; queen consort of Spain from 1829-1833 and regent of the Kingdom 1833-1840).  Historians have noted that although the Spanish Inquisition didn't last into the twentieth century, there were more than echoes of its methods & techniques witnessed (on both sides) during the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939).  

Rome certainly understood the need to enforce doctrine and punish heretics but they wanted control of the processes, aware even then some of the excesses were proving to be counter-productive and the imperative was to create a body under the direct jurisdiction of the Holy See.  Formed in 1542, was emerged was an institution which in recent years has had a few instances of what in commerce (and increasingly by governments too) is called "re-branding".  Originally named the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Roman and Universal Inquisition, between 1908-1965 it was known as the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Holy Office before becoming Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF), its best-known prefect (head) being the the German Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (1927–2022) who, after serving as Chief Inquisitor between 1982-2005) was elected pope as Benedict XVI, serving until his unusual (though not unprecedented) resignation in 2013 when he decided to be styled pope emeritus, living in a kind of papal granny flat in the Vatican until his death.  In 2022, the institution was re-named the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith (DDF) and despite it all, many continue to refer to it as "The Holy Office" (in public) or "The Inquisition" (in private).  There are now (even when under Cardinal Ratzinger as far as in known) no more torture chambers or burnings at the stake but the DDF remains a significant factional player in curia politics although Vatican watchers have detected a grudging softening in the DDF's expressions of doctrinal rigidity since the election of Pope Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013). 

Rabbit

Rabbit (pronounced rab-it)

(1) Any of several soft-furred, large-eared, rodentlike burrowing mammals of the family Leporidae, allied with the hares and pikas in the order Lagomorpha, having a divided upper lip and long hind legs, usually smaller than the hares and mainly distinguished from them by bearing blind and furless young in nests rather than fully developed young in the open.

(2) Any of various small hares.

(3) The fur of a rabbit or hare, often processed to imitate another fur.

(4) A runner in a distance race whose goal is chiefly to set a fast pace, either to exhaust a particular rival so that a teammate can win or to help another entrant break a record; pacesetter.

(5) In sport, a person poor at a sport; in cricket specifically, an unskilled batter (also as “batting bunny”, usually clipped to bunny).

(5) As Welsh rabbit, an alternative form of Welsh rarebit & Welsh ribbit (A snack made of cheese melted with a little ale and served on toast).  Welsh rabbit was the original form but was erroneously marked as a corruption in a dictionary published in 1785 although it’s not clear if the editor made the assumption or drew the conclusion from oral evidence.

(6) In nuclear engineering, a pneumatically-controlled tool used to insert small samples of material inside the core of a nuclear reactor.

(7) In computing theory, a large element at the beginning of a list of items to be bubble sorted, and thus tending to be quickly swapped into the correct position.

(8) In northern English regional slang, as “rabbit catcher”, a midwife or one who by force of circumstance assists in the delivery of a baby.

(9) As “rabbit ears”, the indoor dipole television antenna which typically sat atop the early analogue sets which received a terrestrial signal.

(10) Incessantly or nonsensically to talk.

(11) To hunt rabbits.

(12) In US slang, to flee.

1375-1425: From the late Middle English rabet & rabette, from the Anglo-Latin rabettus, from the Middle French rabouillet (baby rabbit), from the dialectal Old North French rabotte, probably a diminutive of Middle Dutch or West Flemish robbe (rabbit, seal), of uncertain origin but which may be an imitative verb (perhaps robben or rubben (to rub)) and used to allude to a characteristic of the animal.  The related forms include the French rabot (plane), the Middle Dutch robbe (rabbit; seal (from which Modern Dutch gained rob (seal (also “rabbit”), the Middle Low German robbe & rubbe (rabbit), the later Low German Rubbe (seal), the West Frisian robbe (seal), the Saterland Frisian Rubbe (seal) and the North Frisian rob (“seal”) eventually borrowed as the German Robbe (seal).  Early dictionary editors thus described the word as “a Germanic noun with a French suffix”.  Rabbit is a noun & verb, rabbitiness is a noun, rabbited is a verb, rabbitlike & rabbity are adjectives and rabbiting is a noun & verb; the noun plural is rabbits and (especially in the collective) rab·bit.

Lindsay Lohan with rabbit.

Until the late nineteenth century, the meaning was exclusively what would now be understood as “a young rabbit” but it came to be used of the whole species, replacing the original coney, owing to the latter's resemblance to and use as a euphemism for cunny (“vulva” and linked obviously with “cunt” although despite that the preferred slang with some zoological allusion came to include “beaver”, “camel toe” and (especially) “pussy”, rather than “bunny”).  The noun coney dates from the early thirteenth century and was abstracted from the Anglo-French conis and the Old French coniz, (plurals of conil (long-eared rabbit; (Lepus cunicula)) from the Latin cuniculus, the source also of the Spanish conejo, the Portuguese coelho and the Italian coniglio), the small, Spanish variant of the Italian hare (Latin lepus).  The word may ultimately be from the Iberian Celtic although classical writers said it was Hispanic.  In Middle English the two forms were cony & conny (the derivations including coning, cunin & conyng) while the Old French had conil alongside conin.  The evolution seems to be that the plural form conis (from conil, with the -l- elided) was taken into English and regularly single-ized as cony.  The Old French form was borrowed in the Dutch konijn and the German Kaninchen (a diminutive), and is preserved in the surname Cunningham (from a place-name in Ayrshire).  Rabbits not being native to northern Europe, there was no Germanic word for them.  In the fourteenth century “rabbit” came to describe the young of the species and over the centuries came to supplant coney, a process complete by the early nineteenth.  It was another of those exercises in sanitization because in English & Welsh slang, coney had been adopted as a punning synonym for cunny (cunt).  That was complicated by it appearing in the Book of Proverbs in the King James Version of the Bible (KJV, 1611) so the work-around was to change the pronunciation of the original short vowel (rhyming with honey, money) to rhyme with bony, stony.  In the Old Testament, the word translates the Hebrew shaphan (rock-badger).

When Volkswagen in 1974 introduced the Golf in the North American market, it was named the Rabbit, apparently because it would thought the name would suggest qualities such as “agility, speed & playfulness” which were positive attributes in what was then (by US standards) a very small car, much smaller than the more recent versions.  Because of the international success of the Golf, when the revised model was released in 1983, the North American cars switched to that name and it’s been marketed that way since except between 2003-2008 when the Rabbit badge was revived.  The revival was in retrospect a curious choice given the obvious advantages offered by using the one name globally but at the time VW America had a rationalization: “We think we have some opportunities to do something creative with the Rabbit nameplate and recognizes the Golf nameplate has never really caught on with North American consumers as it was overshadowed by the Jetta sedan and wagon.  Volkswagen customers want a relationship with their cars and names like The Thing, Beetle, Fox and Rabbit support this."  Whatever the opportunities may have been, the linguistic experiment wasn’t continued and since 2009, it’s been Golfs all the way.

US market VW Golfs: 1974 Rabbit L (Generation 1)  (left) and 2007 Rabbit TSI (Generation 5).

There was some linguistic irony in VW’s choice because as the US satirist & critic HL Mencken (1880–1956) pointed out in The American Language; An Inquiry into the Development of English in the United States (1919): “Zoologically speaking, there are no native rabbits in the United States; they are all hares. But the early colonists, for some unknown reason, dropped the word hare out of their vocabulary, and it is rarely heard in American speech to this day. When it appears it is almost always applied to the so-called Belgian hare, which, curiously enough, is not a hare at all, but a true rabbit.”

The White Rabbit was a character in Lewis Carroll’s (1832–1898) Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) and one which appears often, always in a waistcoat with pocket watch and in a hurry, fearful always of the impending fury the duchess will visit upon him should he be a moment late.  It’s the white rabbit which Alice follows down the rabbit hole, leading to the bizarre adventures recounted.  One of popular culture’s best-known rabbits gave rise to the phrase “bunny boiler”, a reference to the scene in the film Fatal Attraction (1987) in which a scorned woman revenged herself upon her adulterous ex-lover by tossing his daughter’s pet rabbit into a pot of boiling water; he arrives home to discover a boiled bunny.  The Warner Brother cartoon character Bugs Bunny first appeared on the screen in 1938 and is often described by his shotgun wielding antagonist, the lisping Elmer Fudd, as "that wascally wabbit".

In idiomatic use there’s “pull a rabbit out of the hat” (to find or obtain a sudden solution to a problem), “rabbit-hearted” (someone timid or inclined to be flighty), “rabbit food” (a disapproving view of vegetables held by some meat-eaters), “the rabbit test” (an early pregnancy test involving the injection of the tested woman's urine into a female rabbit, then examining the rabbit's ovaries a few days later for changes in response to a hormone (“the rabbit died” the phrase indicating a positive test or an admission of one’s pregnancy)), “breed like rabbits” (slang for an individual, family, or sub-group of a population with a high birth-rate), “down the rabbit hole” (a time-consuming tangent or detour, often one from which it’s psychologically difficult to extricate oneself), “lucky rabbit’s foot”, (the carrying of a luckless bunny’s preserved rabbit’s foot as a lucky charm), “like a rabbit warren” (a confusingly labyrinthine environment (used literally & figuratively)), “rabbit in the headlights” (an allusion to the way rabbits (like some other wildlife) sometimes “freeze” when caught in the light of an oncoming vehicle’s headlamps) and the inevitable “rabbit fucker” (a general term of disparagement (although it could be applied literally in the right circumstances)).

The “earless” rabbit with “eared” companions.

In May 2011, some weeks after the meltdown at Fukushima Dai-ichi nuclear plant which suffered severe damage in the aftermath of the earthquake and tsunami, a video of an “earless rabbit” began to circulate, purportedly captured in an area just beyond the crippled plant’s exclusion area.  The immediate speculation was of course the creature’s unusual state was a result of a radiation-induced genetic mutation.  Geneticists however had a less troubling explanation.  Although there’s no doubt the radiation emitting from Fukushima Dai-ichi (some 225 kilometres (140 miles) north-east of Tokyo) represents a major risk to health and the long-term environmental effects remain unclear, the scientists say not only is it unlikely to be linked with the earless rabbit, such creatures are far from unusual.  According to a  statement issued from Colorado State University's Department of Environmental and Radiological Health Sciences: “…radiation can cause mutations that can be occasionally expressed as obvious birth defects, such as shown in the video.  However, to say this is the result of contamination from the Fukushima accident is a stretch, because natural radiation, as well as many other chemical substances in the environment and other factors, can also be mutagenic.  In most cases, the cause of congenital birth defects in humans and other animals cannot be determined and as far as science has shown, there have never been mutations produced by ionizing radiations that do not occur spontaneously as well.”

Rabbits used in nuclear reactors: Polyethylene 1-inch (25 mm) rabbit (left), Polyethylene 2-inch (50 mm) rabbit (centre) and Titanium 2-inch (50 mm) rabbit.

The rabbit does though have a place in nuclear engineering.  In the industry, the term “rabbit” is used to describe a range of pneumatically controlled tools which are used remotely to insert or retrieve items from a nuclear reactor or other radioactive environments.  The name is thought to come from the devices being tubular (on the model of the rabbit borrow) which allows samples rapidly to be injected into the periphery of a reactor core, the injectables moving “with the speed of startled rabbits” although there may also be the implication of rabbits as expendable creatures, the tool essential for maintenance, inspection, and repair tasks in nuclear facilities, where direct human intervention is either dangerous or impossible because of high radiation levels.

Winston Churchill inspecting the progress of project White Rabbit No, 6, Clumber Park, Nottinghamshire, England, November 1941.

The World War II (1939-1945) era White Rabbit No. 6 was an engineering project by the British Admiralty although as a security measure the official code-name was changed to Cultivator No. 6 to make it sound less mysterious and more like a piece of agricultural equipment.  It was a military trench-digging machine and an example of the adage that “generals are always preparing to fight the last war” and although designed exclusively for army use on (and at least partially under) land, it came under the auspices of the Royal Navy because it was a brainchild (one of many) of Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) who, between the outbreak of war in 1939 and his assumption of the premiership some months later, served as First Lord of the Admiralty (the service’s civilian head).  Trenches and artillery had been the two dominant features of World War I (1914-1918) and Churchill had spent some months (1915-1916) in one of the former while under fire from the latter while commanding a battalion; before the implications of mechanization and the German’s Blitzkrieg (lightning war) tactics were apparent, he assumed the new war in France would unfold something like the old, thus the interest in something which would “revolutionize trench warfare”.  Trench warfare however wasn’t repeated so White Rabbit No.6 was soon realized to be already obsolete and the project was abandoned and although the most fully developed of the prototypes did perform according to the design parameters, whether it would have been effective remains doubtful; remarkably, work on these things wasn’t wholly abandoned until 1942.  The “White Rabbit” project codes came from Churchill’s sense of humor, his ideas coming, as he said: “like rabbits I pull from my hat” and he supported many, some of which were of great military value while others, like the “floating runways” (artificial icebergs made with a mixture of shards of timber & frozen water), were quixotic.

White Rabbit © Copperpenny Music, Mole Music Co

Surrealistic Pillow album cover, 1967.

White Rabbit was a song by Grace Slick (b 1939) and released on the album Surrealistic Pillow by Jefferson Airplane.  The lyrics were inspired by Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and the sequel Through the Looking-Glass (1871).  It was the psychedelic era and drug references were common in popular music and in the case of White Rabbit it may have been appropriate if the speculation the books been written while the author was under the influence of Laudanum (a then widely-available opiate-infused drug) is true (there's no evidence beyond the circumstantial).  Given the imagery in the text, it’s not difficult to believe he may have been on something and among authors and poets it was a popular way to stimulate the imagination, inspiring at least some of one of the most beloved fragments of English verse, Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s (1772-1834) Kubla Khan (1797) which ends abruptly at 54 lines.  According to Coleridge, he was unable to recall the rest of the 300-odd which had come to him in an opium-laced dream (the original publication was sub-titled “A Vision in a Dream”) because he was interrupted by “a person on business from Porlock” (a nearby Somerset village).  Grace Slick would have sympathized with an artist being intruded on by commerce.

White Rabbit lyrics:

One pill makes you larger

And one pill makes you small

And the ones that mother gives you

Don't do anything at all

Go ask Alice

When she's ten feet tall

 

And if you go chasing rabbits

And you know you're going to fall

Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar

Has given you the call

Call Alice

When she was just small

 

When the men on the chessboard

Get up and tell you where to go

And you've just had some kind of mushroom

And your mind is moving low

Go ask Alice

I think she'll know

 

When logic and proportion

Have fallen sloppy dead

And the White Knight is talking backwards

And the Red Queen's off with her head

Remember what the dormouse said

Feed your head

Belladonna

Belladonna (pronounced bel-uh-don-uh)

(1) In botany, a poisonous Eurasian perennial herb, Atropa belladonna, of the nightshade family, having purplish-red flowers and poisonous black berries (sometimes also called deadly nightshade).

(2) In clinical pharmacology, a drug from the leaves and root of this plant, containing atropine or hyoscyamine and related alkaloids; used in medicine to check secretions and spasms, to relieve pain or dizziness, and as a cardiac and respiratory stimulant; the alkaloids affect the nervous system by blocking the effects of acetylcholine.

(3) A female given name (now rare).

1590-1600: A compound word, from the Italian belladonna, from the Medieval Latin blādōna (nightshade) which may have been of Gaulish origin.  The construct was bella (a stantivization of the singular feminine form of the adjective bello (beautiful)), from the Latin bellus (beautiful, pretty, handsome, pleasant, agreeable, charming) + donna, from the Late Latin domna, a shortened variant of the Latin domina (lady, mistress of an estate or household), from dominus (master), from domus (home) and a doublet of dama (dame).  Belladonna is a noun and is capitalized if used as given name or as the taxonomic genus within the family Solanaceae–Atropa (this largely archaic except as a historic reference).

Vesicaire rempant: A print of Henbane-Belladonna, woodcut on laid paper by an unknown illustrator in Commentaires de M. Pierre Andre Matthiole medecin senois sur les six livres de Pedacion Dioscoride Anazarbeen de la matière médicinale (1572) by Dr Pietre Andrea Mattioli, published by Guillaume Roville of Lyon.

The belladonna plant seems first to have been so described by Italian physician Andrea Mattioli (1501–circa 1577) who used the form herba bella donna.  Dr Mattioli was a pioneer in botanical classification and a diligent scientist who admitted (and corrected) his errors although some of his research methods would today shock, the data he published documenting the effects of poisonous plants gained by testing them on prisoners languishing in various royal dungeons.  Apart from the value to botanists and students of medical history, his texts and the high quality artwork they included have provided much source material for social historians interested in matters as diverse as the dyes used in clothing and the produce regionally available to chefs; his texts contain the first documented evidence of tomatoes being grown in Europe.

Belladonna: Lindsay Lohan in "deadly nightshade" print fabric.

The term belladonna introduced to English by the London-based botanist John Gerarde (circa 1545-1612) who almost certainly acquired from one of Mattioli’s textbooks and quickly it seems largely to have displaced the native English forms used for the plant including dwale, (from the Old English dwola (connected with the Modern English “dull”)) & morelle (from the Old French morele, from the Latin morella (black nightshade)).  Gerarde’s epic-length (1484 page) Herball, or Generall Historie of Plantes (1597), was one of the standard texts in English until well into the seventeenth century although it was later found substantially to be a plagiarised translation of Herball, or Generall Historie of Plantes (1597) by the Flemish physician Rembert Dodoens (1517–1585), a work translated into several languages in continental Europe.

Amaryllis Belladonna.

In eighteenth century Italian use, belladonna (literally "fair lady"), was understood to convey the meaning "beautiful woman" and, supposedly, the use in botany came from the cosmetic eye-drops women made from the juice (atropic acid) of the plant known in English as "deadly nightshade", the desired quality the property of dilating the pupils to create the alluring look young ladies desired.  The mid-nineteenth century explanation that it gained the nomenclature because it was used to poison beautiful women appears to have no basis in any European legal records and was likely a folk etymology alteration.  The Italian belladonna was certainly altered by folk etymology to bella donna (beautiful lady)) the original Medieval Latin being blādōna ("nightshade" and written variously as besulidus, belbulidus, belulidus or belhulidus), the meaning shift again motivated by the cosmetic use of nightshade for dilating the eyes and the authoritative German-Austrian Romanist and linguist Ernst Gamillscheg (1887-1971) suggested it was ultimately of Gaulish origin, the Italian botanist Luigi Anguillara (actually Luigi Squalermo, circa 1512-1570) using the spelling biasola.

Pulchra domina sed tribulation: (the Latin for "a beautiful woman but trouble").

In modern use, Italian men note the legend that the more beautiful the flower of a belladonna, the more deadly its poison although this has no documented basis in botanical study it's never been disproved (were such research possible) so, according to the scientific method, it's not impossible there may be a link.  Attracted by the logic of this, the folk tradition in Italy was more beautiful a woman, the more problems she’s likely to cause, nulla altro che guai (nothing but trouble) the common vernacular form although one probably often uttered in hindsight.  Belladonna is known to have been used for medicinal purposes since Antiquity although it was the use to enlarge the pupils by women in Renaissance Italy for which lent it the romance.  The more sinister name (deadly nightshade) hints at its other chemical role and the dark berries the plant yields were known variously as “murderer’s berries”, “devil’s berries” & sorcerer’s berries, many suggesting it was the poison in William Shakespeare’s (1564–1616) Romeo and Juliet (1596) which made Juliet appear dead.  Things of course ended badly for the star-cross'd lovers but despite that belladonna remains in use as an ingredient in a number of medications, sold as a supplement and best known still for being in the drops used to dilate the eyes.

Romeo (Leonard Whiting (b 1950)) finds Juliet (Olivia Hussey (b 1951)) lying in a death-like coma after taking a potion, Franco Zeffirelli’s (1923–2019) production of Romeo and Juliet (1968).

Although so toxic that ingesting even a small quantity of its leaves or berries can be fatal (just a touch of the plant can irritate the skin), the medicinal benefits are real if the active chemicals (atropine & scopolamine) are correctly prepared and while there’s some overlap in their use, atropine as a muscle relaxant is more effective and useful also in regulating the heart rate.  In industrial applications it’s used as an antidote for insecticide poisoning and in chemical warfare agents.  Scopolamine has many sources apart from belladonna and is helpful in reducing body secretions, such as stomach acid and is an ancient sea-sickness treatment, thus the application to help with motion sickness, available in convenient skin patches.  Lethal though it can be, belladonna products are widely available as over-the-counter nutritional supplements in pump-sprays, ointments, tablets, and tincture (liquid).

Deracinate

Deracinate (pronounced dih-ras-uh-neyt)

(1) To pull up by the roots; uproot; extirpate; eradicate.

(2) To isolate or alienate (a person) from a native or customary culture or environment (especially to expel people from their native land and into exile).

(3) To liberate or be liberated from a culture or its norms. 

1590s: A calque of the French déraciner, from the Old French desraciner (uproot, dig out, pull up by the roots), the construct being dé- +‎ racine +‎ -er.  The de- prefix was from the Latin dē-, from the preposition dē (of, from (the Old English æf- was a similar prefix).  It imparted the sense of (1) reversal, undoing, removing, (2) intensification and (3) from, off.  In French the dé- prefix was used to make antonyms (as un- & dis- function in English) and was partially inherited from the Old and Middle French des-, from the Latin dis- (part), the ultimate source being the primitive Indo-European dwís and partially borrowed from Latin dē-..  Racine was from the Old French, from the Late Latin radicīna (a little root), from the Classical Latin radix & radicis (root), from the Proto-Italic wrādī, from the primitive Indo-European wréhds & wrād- (branch, root).  The prefix –er was used to form infinitives of first-conjugation verbs and was from the Latin –are, from the Middle High German –ære & -er, from the Old High German -āri, from the Proto-Germanic -ārijaz, from Latin -arius.  The -ate suffix -ate used in the English formation was a word-forming element used in forming nouns from Latin words ending in -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as estate, primate & senate).  Those that came to English via French often began with -at, but an -e was added in the fifteenth century or later to indicate the long vowel.  It can also mark adjectives formed from Latin perfect passive participle suffixes of first conjugation verbs -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as desolate, moderate & separate).  Again, often they were adopted in Middle English with an –at suffix, the -e appended after circa 1400; a doublet of –ee.  Deracinate, deracinates, deracinating & deracinated are verbs and deracination is a noun; the noun plural is deracinations.  The noun deracinater (or deracinator) is non-standard.

In English, deracinate is used mostly as a decorative alternative to the descriptive but brutish "uproot" and is probably one of those words which has survived to enjoy it's infrequent appearances because it appears in the Duke of Burgundy's speech in William Shakespeare's (1564–1616) Henry V (circa 1599); the Shakespeare connection has headed-off a few linguistic extinctions.  Use in agriculture and horticulture appears to be rare (the punchier alternatives better understood) although it might be expected when gardening is a part of a literary novel.  In figurative use, the inferences tend to be negative and focus on isolation, alienation, deportation and the cultural separation sometimes felt by diasporic communities.  In English, since 1921 it has been used to mean "uprooted from one's national or social environment" (especially to expel people from their native land and into exile).

Lindsay Lohan gardening with a lopper, decapitation a less demanding path to destruction than deracination, New York City, May 2015.  She appears to be relishing the task. 

However, in figurative form deracinate can carry a positive connotation.  It can mean "to liberate or be liberated from a culture or its norms" and in that sense sometimes appears in right-wing commentaries on certain aspects of the culture wars,  There the point being made relates to the different ways "cultural alienations" are treated, depending on who is being alienated from what.  Someone who is a white, middle class Christian and rejects the beliefs and cultural traditions of their church to emerge as a materialist atheist tied to Enlightenment values is not regarded as "culturally alienated" or a victim of "cultural oppression", indeed, if their transformation is noted at all it may be to call them a "rational" or "an intellectual".  Some might call them "a heretic" but gleefully a rationalist would anyway agree.  For others however, it's argued they can only ever be seen as "a victim".  This seems especially to apply to those from indigenous populations who, if they reject belief in or adherence to the sorts of things Christians are entitled to dismiss as "superstitions", they're treated as "oppressed" and "alienated".  In that sense, the critics say, being something like indigenous (or another ethnic or cultural minority) is "compulsory", some of the very intellectuals who are themselves proudly (and by choice) alienated from a cultural inherence of perhaps centuries declaring those from minorities similarly separated must be victims of hegemonic cultural oppression.  In this sense the critique is something like that made of Western anthropologists who opposed modernizing influences being allowed to "infect" traditional cultures, presumably so they could be preserved in their "unspoiled state" for anthropological study.

Although right-wing politics might seem an unusual source for such arguments, it is intellectually consistent and the internal logic conforms with their hierarchy of priorities.  Although usually they decry post-modernism and most flavors of critical studies (critical race studies (CRT) a particular target) as little more than glossings of nihilism, the right to adopt a world-view at variance with one imposed by cultural tradition has a long history and the importance of defending it well explained by the French philosopher Voltaire (François-Marie Arouet; 1694–1778) and more succinctly still by the Anglo-Irish Whig statesman Edmund Burke (1729-1797).  In the prevailing climate, minority ethnic & cultural identities do seem to remain compulsory (though it may be the converts to post-modernism wisely keep quite about it) but in the the culture wars, no truce has been declared.

Duke of Burgundy's speech (Shakespeare, Henry V Act 5, Scene 2)

My duty to you both, on equal love,
Great kings of France and England. That I have labored
With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavors,
To bring your most imperial Majesties
Unto this bar and royal interview,
Your mightiness on both parts best can witness.
Since, then, my office hath so far prevailed
That face to face and royal eye to eye
You have congreeted. Let it not disgrace me
If I demand before this royal view
What rub or what impediment there is
Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace,
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births,
Should not in this best garden of the world,
Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage?
Alas, she hath from France too long been chased,
And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps,
Corrupting in its own fertility.
Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unprunèd, dies. Her hedges, even-pleached,
Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair,
Put forth disordered twigs. Her fallow leas
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory
Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts
That should deracinate such savagery.
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
Wanting the scythe, withal uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burrs,
Losing both beauty and utility.
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness,
Even so our houses and ourselves and children
Have lost, or do not learn for want of time,
The sciences that should become our country,
But grow like savages, as soldiers will
That nothing do but meditate on blood,
To swearing and stern looks, diffused attire,
And everything that seems unnatural.
Which to reduce into our former favor
You are assembled, and my speech entreats
That I may know the let why gentle peace
Should not expel these inconveniences
And bless us with her former qualities.