Arrow

Arrow (pronounced ar-oh)

(1) A slender, straight and usually pointed missile or weapon made to be shot from a bow and equipped with stabilizing fins (historically feathers) at the end of the shaft near the nock.

(2) Anything resembling an arrow in form, function, or character.

(3) A linear, wedge-shaped symbol used on maps, architectural drawings, engineering blueprints or any document to indicate direction or placement.

(4) In astronomy, the constellation Sagitta.

(5) In text handling and for other purposes, to indicate the proper position of an insertion by means of an arrow-like symbol (often in the form “to arrow in”).

(6) In graph theory, a directed edge (arc).

(7) In computing, the -> symbol, which has specific meanings in a number of programming languages (in Unicode, the hexadecimal range for the 112 supported arrows is 0x2190–0x21ff).

(8) In botany, the inflorescence or tassel of a mature sugar cane plant.

Pre 900: From the Middle English arewe & arwe, from the Old English arwan, from the earlier earh (oblique form ēarw-), from the Proto-Germanic arhwō, from the primitive Indo-European arku & hérkwo- (bow, arrow).  It was cognate with the Persian پيکان (paykan) (arrow), the Faroese ørv (arrow), the Old Norse & Icelandic ör (arrow) (plural örvar), the Gothic arhvazna & arhwazna; the (unattested) Germanic arhwō (feminine) and related to the Latin arcus (genitive arcūs) (bow, arc),  thus the unattested Latin arku- (bow; arch) and the unattested pre-Germanic arku-ā (belonging to the bow).  The word was rare in the Old English. The more common forms to describe an arrow were stræl (which is cognate with the word still common in Slavic and once prevalent in Germanic, related to words meaning "flash, streak") and fla & flan (the -n perhaps mistaken for a plural inflection), from the Old Norse, a North Germanic word which may originally conveyed the sense of "splinter" or “sharp pioint”.  Stræl was extinct by circa 1200; fla became flo in early Middle English and survived only in Scots dialects until the fourteenth century.  Arrow is a noun & verb, arrowing is a verb and arrowed is a verb and adjective although arrowless and arrowlike are the more common adjectival forms; the noun plural is arrows.

Lindsay Lohan in ugg boots with bow & arrow; photoshoot by Ellen Von Unwerth (b 1954) for GQ magazine's German edition, Malibu Beach, California, June 2010.

Convair B36 Peacemaker.  An incident on Valentine's Day 1950 which involved a USAF SAC Convair B-36B (44-92075) was the first (retrospectively) to be classified a "broken arrow".

The meaning in cartography and related fields (a mark like an arrow) dates from 1834.  The noun arrow-head (also arrowhead) is from the late fifteenth century but the ancient ones found buried in the soil were in the seventeenth century called elf-arrows.  The noun arrow-root (also arrowroot) dates from the 1690s, and was so named because the plant's fresh roots or tubers were used to absorb toxins from the wounds caused by poison-darts.  In US military terminology (command and control; nuclear weapons safeguards), broken arrow refers to an accidental event involving nuclear weapons, warheads or components not thought to create a risk of nuclear war.  The term had been used by the military to mean other things, some localized to specific combat theatres, but to avoid any confusion, the Pentagon in the mid-1960s standardized the nomenclature for reporting incidents involving nuclear weapons or related components.  At the time, many of the codes were based on Native American-themed phrases (Broken Arrow, Empty Quiver, Bent Spear etc), something which would not now be done.

Railton Mobil Special, powered by a pair of supercharged Napier Lion VIID (WD) broad arrow (W-12) aero-engines.  On 16 September 1947 it set the world Land Speed Record (LSR) on the Bonneville Salt Flats at 394.2 mph (634.4 km/h) in a two-way run over the measured mile (385.6 & 403.1 mph (620.6 & 648.7 km/h)).

Broad arrow internal combustion engines (ICE) are also referred to as “W engines” and have three groups of cylinders, one vertical and the two others symmetrically angled at less than 90° on either side.  The configuration has always been rare but is not new, the English Napier company building a W12 aero-engine between 1917-1935 which was such a sound design that development allowed it to enjoy an unusually long life as the most powerful engine of its era.  As well as aircraft, it was used in boats and racing cars, a pair of W12s powering the car which in 1947 set the world land speed record (LSR), a mark which stood until 1964.

1992 Mercedes-Benz 600 SEL (W140) and the conceptual sketch for the proposed broad arrow W18 intended for the hypothetical 800SEL.

In the late 1980s, Mercedes-Benz, already concerned that Jaguar & BMW had made the V12 seem a bit common, became alarmed when learning a prototype BMW V16 (code name Goldfisch) had been installed in a 7 series (E32) and was being tested.  The Mercedes engineers didn’t need a tape measure to know a V16 would be too long to fit under the hood (bonnet) of their upcoming W140 and weren’t at all attracted to the idea of lengthening the nose, knowing such a change would (1) further delay a programme already behind schedule, (2) cost a lot of money in a project already over-budget and (3) make no economic sense given the V16 would be a low-volume model.  If a V16 was too long and an H16 too complex and hard to package, the obvious solution was a broad-arrow engine which can be thought of as a flattened V12 with an additional bank of cylinders in the centre and thus a W18.  Although wider than a V12 and even a V8, the W140’s engine bay was wide and, being barely longer than a straight-6, the idea seemed compelling.

BMW 750iL (E32) fitted with prototype 6.7 litre (406 cubic inch) V16 (codename Goldfisch).  Such was the length of the V16 that the front-mounted radiator was deleted and replaced by twin units in the rear, large scoops installed above the rear wheels to direct airflow; a rear grill was fabricated for heat extraction.    

It was a time of excess and the buoyant economies on both sides of the Atlantic (and notably also in Japan) gave little hint of the troubles to follow.  The engineers decided their flagship of the 1990s would be an 800 SEL, the only discussion note being whether the internal components would be taken from the 2.6 litre (159 cubic inch) six or the 2.8 litre (171 cubic inch) unit and thus create either a 7.8 litre (476 cubic inch) W18 or one of 8.4 litres (513 cubic inch).  In a rare example of restraint, they settled for the smaller one.  There have been suggestions the engineers thought BMW would never proceed with a V16 because of the problems in packaging and doubted their own multi-bank proposal would ever see the light of day but as a design it was hard for an engineer to resist so dutifully (and one suspects lovingly) they drew the blueprints to be presented to the board for approval.

Auto Motor magazine's sketch (2000) of a somewhat unfortunately proportioned V24 Maybach coupé (left); the circulated image of a Mercedes-Benz V24 (2 x M120 V12s) which probably always was fake news (centre) and the Maybach Exelero test-bed (2005) which made do with a V12 and followed Auto Motor's lead though with a finer sense of scale.

By the time the blueprints landed on the boardroom table it had become clear that things were changing and perhaps the 1990s might be a bit different to what had been envisaged in early 1987 when the parameters for the big W140 were laid down.  As well as the disturbing indications that the US Federal Reserve was prepared to raise interest rates to the point where the economy would go into recession in a bid finally to tame the inflation which had been building since the late 1960s, also looming were ever-stricter emission regulations.  Accordingly, the board vetoed the 800 SEL project and expressed themselves content the 6.0 litre (366 cubic inch) V12 (M120) already in development would be more than adequate for all purposes.  The board’s decision turned out to be prescient, the M120 one of the company’s best power-plants and one which was enlarged several times for specialist applications, the largest displacing 7.3 litres (445 cubic inch).

Mercedes-Benz Vision Maybach 6 Cabriolet (2017).

Since then, the trend has been towards smaller capacity engines and, as the ICE approaches, if not extinction then certainly a diminished role in land transport, there’s no longer much talk of W18s or V16s (although Bugatti in June 2024 released one while they still could).  However, in the late 1990s, the Mercedes-Benz engineers did have one final fling at multi-cylinder glory, filing conceptual drawings of a V24 (2 x M120s) which could be used under the (very long) hood of an imagined Maybach coupé.  This one circulated but they appear never to have troubled the board by seeking approval to build even a prototype although, had the circumstances been different, it might have been a nice fit for either the one-off Maybach Exelero test-bed (2005) or the Vision Maybach 6 Cabriolet (2017) which nicely captured the spirit of the pre-war 500K & 540K special roadsters.

1932 Bucciali TAV 8-32 Saoutchik Fleche d’Or (Golden Arrow).

About as incongruous in the early 1930s as the 800 SEL would have been sixty years later was the Bucciali TAV8-32.  Produced by a French concern with a history in military aviation, Bucciali manufactured automobiles between 1922-1932 and was a noted pioneer in the (still uncommon though by then not ground-breaking) concept of front-wheel drive, then known as Traction Avant (TAV), a phrase Citroën would later make famous.  Their machinery was intriguing but the crowning achievement was the eighth iteration, the TAV 8-32 and Bucciali enjoyed a successful run in 1930, France for various reasons not then greatly suffering from the depression which had already affected many countries.  The next year however the economy went rapidly into decline and like many manufacturers, Bucciali’s business became first marginal and bankruptcy soon beckoned, the company doing well to limp to an inevitable demise in 1932.

Few TAV 8-32s survive but one memorable four-door version has been on the show circuit for some time.  The 1932 TAV 8-32 Saoutchik Fleche d’Or (Golden Arrow), the name an allusion to the imagery used on the coachwork, was fitted with a stunningly sculpted, low-slung body by the French coach-builder Carrozzeria Saoutchik.  Apart from the TAV configuration which made possible the distinctive low chassis, the Fleche d’Or included other interesting features including a Voisin twelve cylinder sleeve-valve engine with four carburetors, a transverse transmission and 24 inch wheels, fabricated from steel with integral brake drums.  The distinctive stork on each side of the hood side was fabricated from German silver, phosphor bronze and gold-plated brass, the design borrowed from the insignia of the World War I (1914-1918) fighter squadron of the builder.

Bolter

Bolter (pronounced bol-tah)

(1) A person or animal (most especially a horse) that bolts or is prone to running away.  The phrase (applied to HWAGs (horses, wives and girlfriends)) is usually “a bit of a bolter” and historically was never applied to unreliable men; for them, women have many other epithets.

(2) In Australian colonial slang, an escaped convict or absconder.

(3) In botany and horticulture, a plant that grows larger and more rapidly than usual.

(4) In flour milling, a machine or mechanism that automatically sifts milled flour; a person who sifts flour or meal; to sift or filter through a sieve or bolter.

(5) In petroleum refining, a filter mechanism.

(6) In the slang of engine builders, to distinguish between the means used to secure the main bearings supporting a crankshaft (2-bolter, 4-bolter, cross-bolter) which is rare except in the US, where it's most common south of the Mason-Dixon line.

(7) In sport, an obscure athlete who wins an unexpected victory or is a surprise selection in a team (Australia & New Zealand).

(8) In horse racing, a horse which wins at long odds (Australia & New Zealand).

(9) In politics, a member of a political party who does not support the party's nominee or (US archaic).

(10) In naval aviation, a missed landing on an aircraft carrier; an aircraft that has made a missed landing.

(11) As the homophone boulter, a kind of fishing line.

(12) In archaic dialectal use, to smear or become smeared with a grimy substance (later by blood).

(13) In zoology (cetology; the study of whales), to swim or turn sideways while eating.

(14) In the design of retail haberdashery outlets, the shafts supporting bolts of fabric for purposes of display and facilitation of cutting (UK).

From the Middle English bolt (verb) and the Old English (noun); it was cognate with the Dutch bout and the German Boltz.  The Old English bolt (short, stout arrow with a heavy head; crossbow for throwing bolts) was from the Proto-Germanic bultas, source also of the Old Norse bolti, the Danish bolt, the Dutch bout & the German Bolzen.  The original meaning may have been or connected in some sense with "arrow, missile" and therefore derived from the primitive Indo-European bheld- (to knock, strike), source also of the Lithuanian beldžiu (I knock) & baldas (pole for striking).  The word has since Middle English been applied to short metal rods (especially those with knobbed ends) meaning variously "stout pin for fastening objects together" and "part of a lock which springs out" both from circa 1400. A bolt of canvas or (circa 1400 and later applied to other fabrics) was so called for its shape.  The adverbial phrase bolt upright (like a bolt or arrow) is from the late fourteenth century.  The sense of a "sliding metal rod that thrusts the cartridge into the chamber of a firearm" is from 1859.  From the notion of an arrow's flight comes the bolt of lightning (1530s) and the sense of "a sudden spring or start" is attested from the 1540s.

The –er suffix was from the Middle English –er & -ere, from the Old English -ere, from the Proto-Germanic -ārijaz, thought usually to have been borrowed from Latin –ārius and reinforced by the synonymous but unrelated Old French –or & -eor (the Anglo-Norman variant was -our), from the Latin -ātor & -tor, from the primitive Indo-European -tōr.  As an abbreviation (or sometimes following a number), it’s written sometimes as -'er.  The suffix was added to verbs, forming an agent noun to describe a person or thing that does an action indicated by the root verb.  The antonym suffix was –ee which was added to nouns to denote an occupation, hobby etc and to numbers to denote a quantified set.  The related forms were the present participle bolting and the simple past and past participle bolted.  In one sense, the use by Shakespeare in Macbeth (1623) made specific what was once more general.  In Middle English, it meant “to smear or be smeared with a grimy substance” and was applied usually to farm animals getting wet with sweat, rain etc and then "boltering" with mud, hair etc.  However, the Shakespearian purloin popularized the term as means to describe getting covered in blood and that became the most common use in that context.  Bolter is a noun; the noun plural is bolters.

Cross bolters

By their bolts they shall be known.  By convention a "four bolter" was one with the four all into the boss while in a "cross bolter" two were in the boss and two into the block.  "Six bolters" (with four in the boss, two in the block) are now common.

Cross bolters (sometimes hyphenated) is engine-builder slang for the main bearing caps in an internal combustion engine (ICE) being secured by bolts which are screwed into ribs in the block as well as the traditional pair (now often four) into bolt bosses.  The bolt sets are thus mounted at 90^o to each other, a diagram of which would form a + shape when viewed from the front of the engine, hence the idea of “cross-bolted”.  The general effect of cross-bolting is to make a crankcase stiffer by reducing the tendency to twist, something made inherent by the the reciprocating motion of the crankshaft.  The additional bolts limit the movement of the bearings (which engine-builders call "walking"), the purpose being to reduce component failure because a break anywhere in the crankcase area can destroy an engine.  Six-bolt arrangements are now common and some specialists even sometimes install the bolts into the bosses at slightly differing angles on the basis that computer modelling confirms this confers a (slight) benefit in torsional rigidity under certain conditions.  Although not unique to the line and far from novel when added, the best known of the cross-bolters were those in two iterations of the Ford FE range (1958-1976) produced between 1962-1968.  Although it would quickly earn a stellar reputation which endures to this day, Ford’s FE V8 engine didn’t enjoy a wholly auspicious start, associated as it was with the ill-fated Edsel (FE really did stand for “Ford-Edsel” despite some post-debacle attempts to suggest “Ford Engine” (the contemporary MEL stood for Mercury-Edsel-Lincoln)).  However, whatever the problems of the Edsel, the use of the FE is some was not one.

The Ford FE 427: Top vs side oiling.

Offered initially in several displacements, the most produced in the 1960s would be the 352 & 390 cubic inch (5.8 & 6.5 litre) versions, both of which briefly were offered in high-performance versions until the decision was taken to develop such engines as a separate FE branch, the first fruit of which was the 406 (6.6 litre) which debuted in 1962.  The 406 had performed well on Ford’s test-rigs, its output slightly exceeding the engineers’ projections and when installed in the new, slippery bodies offered that year, proved fast on the track.  The power and speed however came at the cost of reliability and the increasing speeds on the circuits had exposed weaknesses in the bottom-end, the main bearing caps “walking” when the vibrations reached a certain resonance.  The solution was to “cross-bolt” the caps; an addition two securing bolts (installed sideways through the block) per cap augmenting the pairs mounted in the conventional vertical position.  This approach, still widely used to this day, proved successful and was carried over when in 1963 the FE was further enlarged to 425 cubic inches (7.0 litre), Ford labelling the new mill the 427 to align it with the displacement limit used by both NASCAR (National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) and the FIA (Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile (the International Automobile Federation and world sport’s dopiest regulatory body)).  However, greater capacity meant more power, higher speeds and increased heat and the 427 began to also to suffer, the higher internal pressures meaning lubrication to the now cross-bolted main bearings had become marginal.  Ford’s solution was to reverse the priority with which oil was delivered.  The original design (retrospectively dubbed the “top-oiler”) lubricated first the valve-train at the top of the engine, then the main bearings which supported the crankshaft.  The new process reversed this order and the design became known as the "side-oiler" so all FE 427s are "cross-bolted" but only some are "side oilers". 

The Bolter

"The Bolter" entered popular culture after the publication in 1945 of Nancy Mitford’s (1904-1973) The Pursuit of Love (1945) in which one character, (the bolter) was so named because of her many marriages, a consequence of her tendency to bolt from one relationship to another; throughout the novel, the bolter is never named and is referred to by all as “the bolter”.  Love in a Cold Climate (1949) was a companion volume to The Pursuit of Love, the title a direct quotation from George Orwell's (1903-1950) Keep the Aspidistra Flying (1936).  The usual form of expression is: “she’s a bit of a bolter”, borrowed from the use to refer to a flighty horse and historically, was applied only to wives and girlfriends; for unreliable men, women have many other epithets.  Mitford based the character on Lady Myra Idina Sackville (1893-1955), daughter of the eighth Earl De La Warr (1869-1915) and Lady Muriel Agnes Brassey (1872-1930).  Known always by her middle name, Idina, she led what many considered a scandalous life and married and divorced five times, her other connection with unconventionality that she was the cousin of the writer Vita Sackville-West (1892-1962), remembered for many things including her long marriage to the writer Harold Nicholson (1886-1968) and being the inspiration for the protagonist of Orlando: A Biography, by Virginia Woolf (1882-1941), one of her lovers.  A modern version of the phrase "a bit of a bolter" is "I'm going to Meghan Markle" meaning (in this context) "I'm leaving".  It must be used with care because as the entries in Urban Dictionary suggest, "to Meghan Markle" can mean many things.

Usage guide: The meaning of "to bolt" from somewhere differs from "to leave" the place in that the former indicates the departure was either (or a combination of) rapid, unexpected, unauthorized or sudden.   

Pile

Pile (pronounced pahyl)

(1) An assemblage of things laid or lying one upon the other.

(2) Slang for a large number, quantity, or amount of anything.

(3) A heap of wood on which a dead body, a living person, or a sacrifice is burned; pyre the more common form.

(4) Slang term for a lofty or large building or group of buildings.

(5) In metallurgy, a bundle of pieces of iron ready to be welded and drawn out into bars; fagot.

(6) In electricity, slang for a voltaic pile.

(7) To gather, accumulate, or rise in a pile or piles (often followed by up).

(8) In construction, a long column of timber, concrete, or steel that is driven into the ground to provide a foundation for a vertical load (a bearing pile) or a group of such columns to resist a horizontal load from earth or water pressure (a sheet pile)

(9) In heraldry, an ordinary in the form of a wedge or triangle coming from one edge of the escutcheon, from the chief unless otherwise specified.

(10) In archery, the sharp head or striking end of an arrow, usually of metal and of the form of a wedge or conical nub.

(11) A fabric with a surface of upright yarns, cut or looped, as corduroy, Turkish toweling, velvet, and velveteen.

(12) In nuclear physics, a structure of uranium and a moderator used for producing atomic energy; nuclear reactor.

Pre 1000: Middle English pile from Old English pīl (shaft) derived from the Latin pīlum (javelin) and pīla (pillar or mole of stone).  Variations emerged in Late Middle English, pyles from 1375–1425 was a plural of the Latin pilae (literally, balls) and from 1300–50 piles (hair, plumage) from the Latin pilus (hair), the -i- short in Latin but long in Anglicized school pronunciation.  The Middle English pyl (reverse of a coin) was a special use of the Medieval Latin pīla.  Word actually passed to English from the Old French pyle. 

The meaning "mass or heap" was universal by the early fifteenth century, originally "pillar, pier of a bridge," from Middle French pile and directly from Latin pila "stone barrier, pillar, pier"; the development in Latin from "pier, harbor wall of stones," to "something heaped up" and the meaning "large building", common by the fourteenth century is probably the same word.  The "heavy pointed beam" is from the Old English pil (stake), as "arrow" is from the Latin pilum (heavy javelin of the Roman foot soldier, literally pestle), source of the Old Norse pila, the Old High German pfil, and the German pfeil (arrow).  Of all these, origin is uncertain.  The meanings as applied to fabrics and downy plumage are from the Anglo-French pyle or the Middle Dutch pijl, both from Latin pilus (a hair), source of the Italian pelo and Old French pel.  Phonological evidence rules out transmission of the English word via the Old French cognate peil and poil; meaning "nap upon cloth" emerged in the 1560s.  The most familiar modern meeting (to heap up) is from the mid fourteenth century while the figurative verbal expression “pile on” (attack vigorously, attack en masse) is an Americanism from 1894.

Chicago Pile-1

The atomic pile was the original name for a nuclear reactor, a device used to initiate and control a self-sustained nuclear chain reaction.  Chicago Pile-1 (CP-1) was the world's first nuclear reactor and on 2 December 1942, the first human-made self-sustaining nuclear chain reaction was initiated.

Chicago Pile-1, 1942                          

CP-1 was built with 45,000 graphite blocks weighing 360 tons used as neutron moderators, fueled by 5 tons of uranium metal and 45 tons of uranium oxide which, despite the bulk, produced only a tiny amount of power, about one-half watt. The original design intended the shape to be spherical but, during construction, it was calculated the critical mass required for a chain-reaction could be achieved with a smaller pile.  Disassembled in 1943, CP-1 was reconfigured to become Chicago Pile-2 (CP-2) and it operated in that form until 1954 when it was dismantled and buried.

A pile of granite blocks (left) and Lindsay Lohan with several stacks of pregnancy books (right), out-take from Labor Pains (2009).

The term "atomic pile" is a historic artefact from the early years of the science but essentially they were the first nuclear reactors, the term derived from what the physicists at the time visualized as a "pile" of the graphite blocks used to moderate the nuclear reaction.  Why the word "pile" was chosen as a descriptor doesn't seem to have been recorded but it must at the time have seen an obvious choice although, the convention in English would have been to use "stack" because although "pile" and "stack" both refer to agglomerations of objects (although can figuratively also be used of the non-physical), the two have slightly different connotations.  A pile tends to be an unordered heap of items, placed without much care to produce a random or shape ("pile of clothes on the floor", "pile of leaves in the yard" etc).  By contrast, a stack is a more orderly arrangement of items placed atop each other ("stack of books on a table", "stack of plates in a cupboard" etc), suggesting something and structured (although the stuff in the stack could in some ways be quite haphazard (ie not in alphabetical order etc).   So, a pile tends to appear to be disordered or unstructured, while a stack suggest some sense of deliberate organization.  None of that suggest the early, pioneering theorists and researchers were wrong in their choice of word.  The first nuclear reactors were called a pile to reflect the basic, rather unrefined way the components were "piled together"; these really were scientific experiments and not without risk, a number of scientists and engineers who worked in close proximity to Chicago Pile-1 dying prematurely from internal cancers, including Italian-American physicist Enrico Fermi (1901–1954), the device's designer & builder.

Ambrosia

Ambrosia (pronouced am-bro-zia)

(1) In classical mythology, the food (sometimes called nectar) of the gods and said to bestow immortality.

(2) Something especially delicious to taste or smell.

(3) A fruit dish made of oranges and shredded coconut.  Sometimes includes pineapple.

(4) Alternative name for beebread.

(5) Any of various herbaceous plants constituting the genus Ambrosia, mostly native to America but widely naturalized: family Asteraceae (composites).  The genus includes the ragweeds.

1545-1555.  From the Middle English, from the Old French ambroise, from the Latin ambrosia (favored food or drink of the gods) from the Ancient Greek ambrosia (food of the gods), noun use of the feminine of ambrosious (thought to mean literally "of the imortals") from ambrotos (immoratlity; immortal, imperishable).  The construct was a- (not) + mbrotos (related to mortos (mortal), from the primitive Indo-European root mer- (to rub away, to harm (also "to die" and used widely when forming words referring to death and to beings subject to death).  Writers in Antiquity woud use the word when speaking of theit favorite herbs and it's been used in English to describe delectable foods (though originally of fruit drinks) since the 1680s and came to be used figuratively for anything delightful by the 1730s.  Applied to certain herbs by Pliny and Dioscorides; used of various foods for mortals since 1680s (originally of fruit drinks); used figuratively for "anything delightful" by 1731.  The adjective ambrosial dates from the 1590s in the sense of "immortal, divine, of the quality of ambrosia", the sense of "fragrant, delicious" developed by the 1660s.  The other adjectival forms were ambrosiac (circa 1600) & ambrosian (1630s).

Ambrose was the masculine proper name, from the Latin Ambrosius, from the Ancient Greek ambrosios (immortal, belonging to the immortals),  The Biblioteca Ambrosian (Ambrosian Library) in Milan (1609), established by Cardinal Federico Borromeo (1564–1631), is named for Saint Ambrose of Milan (circa 339–397) Bishop of Milan 374-397.

Cupid, Psyche and the Nectar of the Gods

In Greek mythology, Psyche was the youngest and loveliest of a king’s three daughters.  So haunting was Psyche’s beauty that people travelled from afar to pay homage, neglecting the worship of Venus (Aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, instead venerating the nymph.  Venus became enraged at finding her altars deserted, men instead turning their devotions to the young virgin, watching as she passed, singing her praises and strewing her way with chaplets and flowers.

Indignant at the exaltation of a mortal, Venus began her righteous rant.  "Am I then to be eclipsed in my honors by a mere mortal girl?  In vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by Jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, Pallas and Juno. But she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. I will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty."  Venus summoned her winged son, the mischievous Cupid and telling him of Psyche, ordered her revenge.  "My dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give your mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph."

Obediently, Cupid set to his task.  In the garden of Venus lay two fountains, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter.  Cupid filled two amber phials, one from each fountain and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of Psyche, finding her asleep.  He shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips and although though the sight of her moved him almost to pity, touched her side with the point of his arrow.  At the touch she awoke and her eyes gazed upon the invisible Cupid which so enchanted him he became confused and pricked himself with his own arrow.  Helplessly in love, his only thought now was to repair the mischief he had done and he poured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken blonde ringlets.

Psyche, henceforth frowned upon by Venus, gained no benefit from her charms.  While all cast covetous eyes upon her and all spoke her praises, not prince, plebeian or peasant ever asked for her hand in marriage.  Her two sisters had become betrothed to princes but Psyche sat in solitude, feeling cursed by the beauty which had failed to awaken love.  The king and queen, thinking they had incurred the wrath of the gods turned for guidance to the oracle of Apollo who answered: “The virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. Her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. He is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist."

Her parents, distraught, abandoned themselves to grief but Psyche was fatalistic, saying "Why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? You should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me a Venus. I now perceive I am victim to that name.  I submit.  Lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me."  Accordingly, amid the lamentations of all, she was taken to the peak of the mountain and there left alone.  When the tearful girl stood at the summit, the gentle Zephyr raised her from the earth and carried her on the breeze, bringing her to rest in a flowery dale where she laid down to sleep.  When she awoke, refreshed, she looked around and beheld nearby a grove of tall and stately trees.  Entering the forest, she discovered in its midst a fountain from which bubbled crystal-clear waters and nearby, a splendid palace, so magnificent she knew it the work not of mortal hands, but the retreat of some god.  Drawn by admiration and wonder, she ventured to enter the door.  Amazed at what she saw, she walked along a marble floor so polished it shimmered, golden pillars supported a vaulted roof, walls were enriched with carvings and paintings of fantastic beasts.  Everything upon which her eye fell delighted her.

Soon, although she saw no one, she heard a voice.  "Sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. We whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with utmost care.  Retire, should you please, to your chamber, recline upon your bed of down and when you see fit, repair to the bath.  Your supper awaits in the alcove”.  Psyche took her bath and seated herself in the alcove, whereupon a table appeared laden with extraordinary delicacies of food and nectarous wines.   While she ate, she heard the playing of lute and harp and the harmony of song.

That night she met he husband but he came only in the darkness, fleeing before the dawn, but his words and caresses were of love and inspired in her a like passion.  Often she would beg him to stay so she might behold him in the light but he refused, telling her never to attempt to see him, for no good would come of it and that he would rather have her love him as a man than adore him as a god.  This, Psyche accepted but the days grew long and lonely and she began to feel she was living in a gilded cage.  One night, when her husband came, she told him of her distress, her charms enough to coax from him his unwilling acquiescence that her sisters could visit.  Delighted, she summoned the obedient Zephyr who brought them to the mountain and in happiness, they embraced.

The splendor and celestial delights of Psyche’s palace astonished her sisters but also aroused their envy and they began to pepper her with questions about her husband and she told them he was a beautiful youth who spent his days hunting in the mountains.  Unconvinced, the soon drew from her that she had never seen him and they began to fill her mind with dark suspicions, recalling the Pythian oracle had declared her doomed to marry a direful and tremendous monster.  Psyche protested but they told her the folk living in the valley say the husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, amusing himself while nourishing her with dainties that he may by and by devour her.  They told to one night to take with her a lamp and sharp blade so that when he slept she might light the lamp and see his true form.  If truly he is a monster they told her, "hesitate not and cut off its head".

Psyche tried to resist her sisters’ persuasions but knew she was curious and that night she took to bed a lamp and a long, sharp knife.  When he had fallen to sleep, silently she arose and lit her lamp, beholding but the most beautiful of the gods, his golden ringlets falling over his snowy neck, two dewy wings on his shoulders whiter than snow, with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring.  Entranced, as she moved her lamp better to see his face, a drop of hot oil fell on the shoulder of the god and startled, he opened his eyes and fixed them upon her.  They both were frozen for a few seconds, then suddenly and without a word, he spread his wings and flew out of the window.  Psyche, crying in despair, in vain endeavored to follow but fell from the window to the ground below.

Hearing her fall, Cupid for a moment paused in his flight and turned to her saying, "Oh faithless Psyche, is it thus you repay my love? After I disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and would cut off my head?  Go, return to your sisters, who you trust more than me.  I punish you no more than to forever leave you for love cannot dwell with suspicion."  With those words, he flew off, leaving poor Psyche crying into the earth.  For hours she sobbed and then looked around, but her palace and gardens had vanished and she found herself in a field in the city where her sisters dwelt.  She repaired thither and told them her story at which, though pretending to grieve with her, the two evil sisters inwardly rejoiced for both thought as one: that Cupid might now choose one of them.  Both the next morning silently arose and snuck secretly to the mountain where each called upon Zephyr to bear them to his lord but leaping up, there was no Zephyr to carry them on the breeze and each fell down the precipice to their deaths.

The devastated Psyche meanwhile wandered.  Day and night, without food or rest, she searched for her husband and one evening saw in the distance a magnificent temple atop a lofty mountain and she felt her heart beat, wondering if perhaps there was Cupid.  She walked to the temple and there saw heaps of corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, mingled with ears of barley.  Scattered about, lay sickles and rakes, the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly from the weary reapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day.  This unseemly confusion disturbed the neat and tidy Psyche and she put herself to work, separating and sorting everything and putting all in its proper place, believing she ought to neglect none of the gods, but prove by her piety to prove she was worthy of their help.  The holy Ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her, "Oh Psyche, truly your are worthy of our pity, though I cannot shield you from the frowns of Venus, I can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. Go, then, and voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have lost."  Filled with both fear and hope, Psyche made her way to the temple of Venus.

Venus met her with anger.  "Most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you at last remember you have a mistress or have you come to see your sick husband, the one injured by the wound given him by his worthless wife?  You are so ill favored you can be worthy of your lover only by showing industry and diligence.  I shall put you to work".  She led Psyche to temple’s storehouse in which sat vast piles of wheat, barley, vetches, beans and lentils, the food for her birds.  “Separate these grains, put them all in sacks and have it done by night” she commanded, leaving her to the task.  Shocked, Psyche sat silent, moving not a finger.  While she despaired, Cupid ordered an ant, a native of the fields, to bring all ants from the anthill and they gathered on the piles.  Quickly and with the efficiency of their breed, they took grain by grain, making perfect parcels of each and when done, vanished from sight.  As twilight fell, Venus returned from a banquet of the gods and seeing the sacks neatly stacked, became enraged.  "This is no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed."  So saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and stormed off.

Next morning Venus ordered Psyche to be called and said to her, "Behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water.  There you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs.  Go now, fetch me some of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces."  Standing on the riverbank, wondering at the difficulty of her task, Psyche was about to cross but river god made the reeds speak, telling her "Oh maiden, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among those rams for as long as the sun shines, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth.  But when the noontide sun has driven them to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees."  Psyche did as they said and returned with her arms full of the golden fleece but Venus was not pleased.  "Well I know it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded I do not believe you are of use but I have another task for you.  Here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to Proserpine and say, 'my mistress Venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her own'.  Be not too long on your errand, for I must paint myself with it to appear this evening at the circle of the gods."

Psyche now believed her own destruction was at hand and, with no wish to delay what was not to be avoided, dashed to the top of a high tower, preparing to cast herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below.  But then, a voice from the tower said to her, "Why, poor unlucky girl, do you design to put an end to your days in so dreadful a manner? And what cowardice makes you sink under this last danger when you have been so miraculously supported in all your former?"  Then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of Pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on Charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. But the voice also cautioned, "When Proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty, you must never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses."

Encouraged, Psyche obeyed the advice and travelled safely to the kingdom of Pluto. Admitted to the palace of Proserpine, she delivered her message from Venus and soon, she was handed the box, shut and filled with the precious commodity. Then she returned the way she came, glad once more to be in the light of day.  But as she walked along the path, a longing desire overcame her, an urge to look into the box for, as she imagined, a touch of the divine beauty would make her more desired by Cupid so, delicately, she opened the box.  But in there was nothing of beauty but only an infernal and truly Stygian sleep which, being set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell in the road where she stood, plunged into a deep sleep, lying there without sense or motion.

But Cupid was now recovered and could no longer bear the absence of his beloved Psyche and slipping through a crack in the window, he flew to where Psyche lay.  He gathered up the sleep from her and closed it again in the box, waking her with the gentlest touch of one of his arrows. "Again," said he, "have you almost perished by the same curiosity.  But now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and I will take care of the rest."  Then Cupid, as swift as lightning, presented himself before Jupiter with his supplication.  Jupiter was impressed and so earnestly did he plead the cause of the lovers that he won the consent of Venus and on hearing this, sent Mercury to bring Psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, he handed her a goblet ambrosia saying, "Drink this, Psyche, and be immortal; nor shall Cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual."  Thus Psyche became at last united to Cupid, and in time, born to them was a daughter whose name was Pleasure.

Wedding Banquet of Cupid and Psyche (circa 1517) by Raphael (1483–1520).

The story of Cupid and the OCD Psyche is told by the Roman writer Apuleius (circa 124-circa 170) in three chapters in his rather risqué picaresque novel, The Metamorphoses of Apuleius (which Saint Augustine dubbed Asinus aureus (The Golden Ass (by which it’s today known)).  The Golden Ass is notable as the only full-length work of fiction in Classical Latin to have survived in its entirety and is a work with aspects which would be regarded as novel centuries later, including fantastical imagery, passages like fairy tales and elements which would now be called magic realism.  Like many modern fairy tales, there is a moral to the story and for Apuleius it was that it is love which makes to soul immortal and there was no need for subtlety, Cupid the son of the goddess of desire and Psyche's name originally meant soul.

With the re-discovery (and some re-invention) of much of antiquity during the Renaissance, the story gained much popularity and attracted the interest of artists and from Raphael’s (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, 1483–1520) studio came the best known evocation.  One of the scenes is the wedding feast, painted in the form of a hanging tapestry.  Psyche’s guest list was a roll-call of the gods, Ganymede, Apollo, Bacchus and Jupiter are all at the table, the Graces and the Hours in attendance.  The artists (for some the work was executed by professional painters under Raphael’s guidance) do have some fun, very much in the spirit of Apuleius for above the flying Mercury sits, artfully arranged, a suggestive conjunction of certain vegetables and fruits.

The Wedding Feast of Cupid and Psyche (1532) by Giulio Romano.

The romance of Cupid and Psyche drew other artists including the Italian Giulio Romano (Giulio Pippi, circa 1499-1546), a student of Raphael whose influence permeates.  While not highly regarded by critics and better remembered as an architect, Romano is of note because he was among the earliest of the artists whose work can be called Mannerist and certainly his wedding feast painting includes the mythological, a staged and theatrical setting, eroticism and an unusual sense of perspective; all characteristic of Mannerist art although he remained entirely naturalistic in the callipygian rendering of Psyche’s buttocks.

In Shakespeare's late drama The Winter's Tale there’s an allusion to Romano as “that rare Italian master” but despite the bard’s apparent admiration, historians of art treat him as little more than a footnote; the shadow Raphael cast was long.  Some critics seem determined to devalue his work, the Catholic Encyclopaedia (1913) noting it was “prolific and workmanlike, always competent…” but with “…no originality; as a painter, he is merely a temperament, a prodigious worker. His manual dexterity is unaccompanied by any greatness of conception or high moral principle.  His lively but superficial fancy, incapable of deep emotion, of religious feeling, or even of observation, attracted him to neutral subjects, to mythological paintings, and imaginary scenes from the world of fable. Therein under the cloak of humanism, he gave expression to a sensualism rather libertine than poetical, an epicureanism unredeemed by any elevated or noble quality.  It is this which wins for Giulio his distinctive place in art.  His conception of form was never quite original; it was always a clever and bookish compromise between Raphael and Michelangelo.  His sense of color grows ever louder and uglier, his ideas are void of finesse, whatever brilliancy they show is second-hand. His single distinctive characteristic is the doubtful ease with which he played with the commonplaces of pagandom.  In this respect at least, paintings like those of the Hall of Psyche (1532) are historical landmarks.  It is the first time that an appeal is made to the senses with all the brutal frankness of a modern work”. 

Damning with faint praise perhaps.  Grudgingly, the editors did concede that despite being “…distinguished by such characteristics and marked by such defects, Romano occupies nevertheless an important place in the history of art. More than any other, he aided in propagating the pseudo-classical, half-pagan style of art so fashionable during the seventeenth century. It’s mainly through his influence that after the year 1600 we find so few religious painters in Europe”.

One could hardly expect The Catholic Encyclopedia (sub-titled An International work of reference on the constitution, doctrine, discipline and history of the Catholic Church), to find much worthy in a mannerist (or perhaps anything modern).  Mannerism, novel in some ways as it was, was rarely original in form or content.  It was a reaction against the perceived perfection of the neo-classicism of the High Renaissance and artists from Romano on were drawn to Greek mythology, characters like Psyche and Echo able simply and unambiguously to represent the psychological problems muddied by Christian theology.