Deipnosophist

Deipnosophist (pronounced dahyp-nos-uh-fist)

Someone noted for their sparkling dinner-table conversation.

1650–1660: From the Ancient Greek Δειπνοσοφισταί (Deipnosophistaí), the title of a literary work in fifteen volumes (translated usually as something like “philosophers at their dinner table”) by the third century scholar Athenaeus of Naucratis, describing learned discussions at a banquet, the construct being δειπνο- (deipno-) (meal) + σοφιστής (sophistḗs).  The plural of sophistḗs was sophistaí and the sense used by Athenaeus was one of “wise men knowledgeable in matters of art & science”.  The now obsolete alternative spelling was dipnosophist.  Deipnosophist, deipnosophistry & deipnosophy are nouns; the noun plural is diepnosophists.  Tempting though they are, forms such as deipnosophistically and deipnosophising are non-standard.

Deipnosophistry in practice: Lindsay Lohan at the Fox News table, White House Correspondents' Association annual dinner, Washington DC, 2012.  At the annual event, there is much table talk.

Scholars of Antiquity regard the Deipnosophistaí as a conceptual work encompassing the aspects of life most interesting to the elites of society and these included matters of gastronomy, philosophy, music, literature, women and fine points of grammar.  Structurally, the approach of Athenaeus would have been familiar to twentieth century modernists, the fifteen volumes absorbed by an account of the discussions which transpired during a banquet given by a rich man and attended by two-dozen of those he thought possessed knowledge and conversational skills sufficiently sparkling to be worthy of an invitation; “chaps with some background” as it were.  As a literary (and didactic) technique, this approach was known from Plato’s (circa 427-348 BC) Dialogues but the Deipnosophistaí is a sprawling work and the author made no attempt to disguise the use of the format as a device to explore an extraordinary range of ideas and concepts; he did not claim to be writing a transcript.  Because a substantial part of the text was devoted to the cooking and serving of fine food, in the seventeenth & eighteenth centuries, the noun deipnosophist was used also as learned synonym of gourmand and not always in a complimentary way, the English viewing ornate, stylized food as “something continental” and therefore suspicious and the word “sophist” was similarly suspect, used often in the pejorative sense of someone “silver tongued” rather than simple and sincere.

So the Deipnosophistaí was a kind of idealized conversation of the kind only something scripted (and thus artificial) can be.  However, even the most reliable of verbatim transcripts erroneously can convey the impression that what’s been recorded are the words of a deipnosophist because even if annotated, much is missed: the pauses, the volume, the inflections and changes in tone of the voice and perhaps especially the little variations which mean a passage of conversations could have been delivered with confidence of diffidence.  The case study is the distance between conversational reality and the impression which can be left when published in transcript is Tischgespräche im Führerhauptquartier (Hitler's Table Talk), a series of what were presented as monologues delivered by Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) between 1941-1944, mostly over the dinners held in the two Führerhauptquartiere (Führer Headquarters), the Wolfsschanze (Wolf's Lair) in what was then East Prussia (present-day Poland) and Werwolf (Werewolf) in the Ukraine.  Because of Hitler’s pattern of life (which became more extreme as the military situation deteriorated), the dinners could be held at any hour and not infrequently extended to the early morning.

Published in several languages between 1953-1954, the transcripts have extensively been studied and while the consensus has always been that while there’s no evidence of any great inaccuracy in terms of what was said (except for some of the material about Christianity which does appear to have been somewhat “embellished” by Martin Bormann (1900–1945; Hitler’s secretary 1941-1945) who hated the churches and the Jews with almost equal vehemence), just about all historians have observed that based on the reports of those who were actually at these meals and listened, a casual reader would gain entirely the wrong impression.  For one thing, what is missing is the repetition.  Hitler had a number of what were really set-piece speeches which for some twenty years he returned to on these occasions, the topics including vegetarianism, his dislike of smoking, the making of artificial honey, the relative merits of various styles of architecture and the history of opera.  For occasional visitors or someone new, the experience of listening to these banalities may have been pleasant enough but many of the regulars interviewed after the war recounted their boredom at the repetition, something noted especially by the military and secretarial staff who listened to the “script” dozens or even hundreds of times; many knew the words off by heart.  So a deipnosophist can’t be judged by words alone, even if recorded verbatim and nor is an audio tape of necessity any better because obviously the visual clues which lend so much to meaning are lost.

Soiree

Soiree (pronounced swah-rey)

(1) An evening party or social gathering.

(2) Used loosely, a party or social gathering held at any time.

1793: from the French soirée (evening activity), the construct being the tenth century Old French soir (evening; night (from the Latin adverb sērō (late; at a late hour) which originally was an ablative of sērus) from sērum (a late time), from sērus (late), from the primitive Indo-European se-ro- (a suffixed form of the root se- (long, late) and the source also of the Sanskrit sayam (in the evening), the Lithuanian sietuva (deep place in a river), the Old English sið (after), the German seit (since), the Gothic seiþus (late), the Middle Irish sith and the Middle Breton hir (long)) + -ée (from the Latin –āta (feminine of –ātus) (the –ate suffix in English).  In French, the feminine suffix –ée was joined to nouns to make nouns expressing the quantity contained in the original noun and thus also relations of times (journée, matinée, année et al) or objects produced.  There was also the nineteenth century swarry, a coining for jocular effect representing the English pronunciation.  The suffix -ate 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.  In German the spelling is Soirée (plural Soiréen), the synonym being Abendgesellschaft (party held in the evening).  In English, the French soirée is now listed by most sources as an alternative spelling (a la café & cafe).  Soiree is a noun; the noun plural is plural soirees.

In English, strictly speaking, because of the origin in French (soir (evening) familiar in the greeting bon soir (good evening, a time specific way of saying “hello”)), a soiree is a social gathering held in the evening but it has long been used loosely and there have been many soirees held early in the day.  It can be debated whether there’s now an additional meaning (social gathering) or the real meaning is just being ignored but the word is certainly something of a middle-class favourite and it’s not unknown to receive an invitation to an “evening soiree” or “night time soiree” which may be tautological but the meaning shift is probably here to say.  The word is also used with modifiers to make the nature of an event clear (musical soiree; boho soiree, élite soiree; jubilee soiree; birthday soiree etc).

The successful soiree

Some etiquette guides devote entire chapters to the tricks and techniques which make a soiree a success, focusing on food, settings, surroundings and the guest list (who sits next to whom something of an art) and the most structured and demanding event is probably that classic of evening entertaining: the dinner party.  The catering arrangements obviously are critical but the consideration of other matters is also a minor linguistic feast: 

It’s best to avoid inviting the malesuete (“accustomed to poor habits”, an archaic adjective from the Latin malesuētus, the construct being male (badly; poorly) + suētus (past participle of suēscere (to become accustomed; to be used to)) because they tend to be “unaccustomed to good behaviour” and thus won’t fit in.  That doesn’t mean they’re ostracized by all because in their circles (composed of other other malesuete types) there are also soirees for them to enjoy.  Should there be some sort of filing error and a malesuete guest is at the table, all one can hope is that there’s only one of them because in pairs they’ll almost always constult (“to act stupidly together”, a verb from the Latin constult, the construct being con- (together) + stultus (foolish; fool)); they will encourage each other.  However, even the usually well-mannered can become malesuetesque when peloothered (“drunk, thoroughly intoxicated”, an adjective coined by James Joyce (1882–1941), possibly from Hiberno-English as a humorous dialectal corruption of blootered (“drunk”, an informal term in Scots English also meaning or polluted) so if possible research the effect of strong drink on potential invitees.  A caution like “drinks like a fish” need not of necessity mean someone must be chucked because there are amiable and amusing drunks but they may only make it to the reserve (last resort) list.

Deipnosophistry in practice: Lindsay Lohan at the Fox News table, White House Correspondents' Association annual dinner, a soiree at which there is much table talk, Washington DC, April 2012. 

Among the most desirable of those for a dinner party are deipnosophists (“those noted for their sparkling dinner-table conversation”, a noun from the Ancient Greek Δειπνοσοφισταί (Deipnosophistaí), the title of a literary work in fifteen volumes (translated usually as something like “philosophers at their dinner table”) by the third century scholar Athenaeus of Naucratis, describing learned discussions at a banquet, the construct being δειπνο- (deipno-) (meal) + σοφιστής (sophistḗs).  The plural of sophistḗs was sophistaí and the sense used by Athenaeus was one of “wise men knowledgeable in matters of art & science”.  A deipnosophist will never raise matters nefandous (“too odious to be spoken of”, an adjective from Latin nefandus, the construct being from ne- (in the sense of “not”) + fandus, gerundive of fārī (to speak) ao while they may think the unthinkable they’ll never speak the unspeakable.  If there is a guest who is particularly sensitive about some topic which usually is innocuous, it’s acceptable (and often advisable) quietly to advise to the others the matter is tacenda (“a thing not to be mentioned; a subject to be passed over in silence”, a noun from the Latin tacenda, future passive participle of taceo (to be silent, say nothing, to hold one's tongue).

Because of the physical layout of a dinner party (gathered together closely around a table) it’s not possible for a shy guest actually to latibulate (“to retreat and hide oneself in a corner”, a verb from the Latin, the construct being latibulum (hiding place) +‎ -ate (the verb-forming suffix), from lateō (to lie hidden) +‎ -bulum (the nominal suffix denoting instrument)) but there can be some (even the usually talkative) who for whatever reason become on the night taciturn (“tendency habitually to be silent”, a noun ultimately from the fifteenth century French taciturne, from the Latin taciturnus (not talkative; noiseless, quiet, maintaining silence), from tacitus (silent) & tacēre (to be silent).  Tempting though it is to ply them with alcohol (which can “loosen the tongue”), that’s a tactic not without risk and it’s recommended that if possible, a pretext is found to change the seating plan, re-allocating them a spot next to someone they might find more convivial.  At a small table, this will likely have no effect.  If on a second occasion a guest’s taciturnity is noted as truly as habitual, it may be they are deipnophobic (one who suffers the social anxiety deipnophobia (fear of eating in public)); don’t invite them again.

Advesperate: A set table, ready for a soiree.  The construct of advesperate (to draw towards evening) was the Latin ad- (to) + vesper. (evening; the evening meal) from the Proto-Italic wesperos, from the primitive Indo-European wek-w-speros, the cognates including the Ancient Greek ἕσπερος (hésperos), the Old Church Slavonic вєчєръ (večerŭ) and the Old Armenian գիշեր (gišer).  In the liturgical orders of Christianity (and always in the plural "vespers"), it's the sixth of the seven canonical hours (an evening prayer service).

There are also those who may be good conversationalists but exhibit some bad habits which are not good to display at dinner parties (although many are close to obligatory at the beer & bourbon soaked malesuete soirees).  They may obganiate (“to cause irritation by reiteration” (ie to annoy by repeating over and over and over and over…”, a verb from the Italian ostinato (obstinate, persistent), a variant of which is the act of epizeuxis (“the repetition of a word with vehemence and emphasis”, a noun from the Modern Latin epizeuxis, from the Ancient Greek ἐπίζευξις (epízeuxis) (a fastening upon), from ἐπιζευγνύναι (epizeugnúnai), the construct being ἐπί (epí) (upon) + ζευγνύναι (zeugnúnai) (to yoke).  As a rhetorical technique, an epizeuxis can be an effective way to make a point but at a dinner party it should never be accompanied by a dactylodeiktous gesture (“pointed at with a finger”, an adjective from the Ancient Greek, the construct being δάκτυλος (dáktylos) (finger) + δεικτός (deiktós), from the verb δείκνυμι (deíknumi) (to show; to point out) + -ous (the suffix indicating an adjective or descriptive quality).  When noticing such things, a host should adopt the demeanour of a discountenancer (“one who discourages with cold looks to convey disapproval”, a noun from the French décontenancer, from the Middle French descontenancer).

Not a residentarian: Crooked Hillary Clinton in blue pantsuit leaving (early) the soiree planned to celebrate her victory in the 2016 US presidential election, Manhattan, New York, November 2016.

Also tiresome at such a soiree those who beyelp (loudly to talk of, boast of, glory in”, a verb from the Middle English beyelpen, from the Old English beġielpan (to boast) and tend to speak in rodomontades (vainglorious boasting or bragging; pretentious, bluster”, a noun from the Middle French rodomontade, the construct being the Italian Rodomonte (name of the boastful Saracen king of Algiers in two Italian Renaissance epic poems + the Middle French –ade (the suffix used to form nouns denoting action, or a person performing said action), from the Occitan -ada, from the Latin -ata.  In dialectal Italian the name means literally “one who rolls (away) the mountain” (clipped also to “roll-mountain”).  Fortunately, such types are usually elozable (“readily influenced by flattery”, an archaic adjective coined in the sixteenth century the construct obscure but believed to be elo- (from the Latin eloqui (to speak out) + -zable (a variant of the suffix –able (denoting capability or possibility) with the inserted “z” presumably a phonetic convenience.  To deal with such guests, one may need to heterophemize (“to say something different from what you mean to say”, a verb from the Ancient Greek, the construct being hetero-, from the ἕτερος (heteros) (other; different) +-phem-, from φημί (phēmi) (to speak; to say) + -ize (a suffix conveying the notion of “to make; to do” or “to perform the act of”) which is OK because it’s been done before and at some dinner parties in polite society conversations are conducted with little else.  One will though need eventually to be more direct with the residentarian (“a person who is given to remaining at table”, a modern English noun, the construct being resident +arian (the suffix a back-formation from various words ending in “arian”, some directly derived from Classical or Medieval Latin words ending in -arius by adding “-an” to the stem, other indirectly via Old French words ending in “arien(ne)” or “erien(ne)” or from English words ending in “ary” to which “-an” was suffixed.  It was used to create nouns in the sense of (1) a believer in something, (2) an advocate of something or (3) a native or inhabitant of somewhere.  The next day, when reviewing yesterneve (“yesterday evening”, a noun, the construct being yester(day) + -n- + eve(ning), decide which guest must be chucked (never again to be invited) and which adorned the table and thus to be added to the xenium list (“a gift given to a guest”, a noun from the Latin xenium (a gift given to guests or foreign ambassadors, often of food, in Ancient Greece or Rome), from the  Ancient Greek ξένιον (xénion) from the Ionic.