Engagement

Engagement (pronounced en-geyj-muhnt)

(1) The act of engaging or the state of being engaged.

(2) A mutual pledge of marriage, betrothal.

(3) An appointment or arrangement.

(4) A pledge, obligation, agreement or other condition that binds.

(5) Employment, or a period or post of employment, now especially in the performing arts.

(6) In military use, an encounter, conflict, or battle.

(7) In mechanics, the act or state of interlocking.

(8) In contract law, a promise (archaic).

(9) In economics (usually in the plural), financial obligations (archaic).

(10) In obstetrics, the entrance of the foetal head or presenting part into the upper opening of the maternal pelvis.

1615: The construct was engage + -ment.  Engagier was from the Middle English, from the Old French engagier (under pledge), via Frankish from the Proto-Germanic wadiare (pledge).  The word spread widely in European languages in cluding the Frankish anwadjōn (to pledge), from Proto-Germanic wadjōną (to pledge, secure), wadją (pledge, guarantee).  It was cognate with the Old English anwedd (pledge, security) & weddian (to engage, covenant, undertake), the German wetten (to bet, wager) and the Icelandic veðja (to wager); the word illustrating the general, common evolution of Germanic to French (eg Guillaume from Wilhelm).  The -ment suffix was from the Middle English -ment, from the Late Latin -amentum, from -mentum which came via Old French -ment.  It was used to form nouns from verbs, the nouns having the sense of "the action or result of what is denoted by the verb".  The suffix is most often attached to the stem without change, except when the stem ends in -dge, where the -e is sometimes dropped (abridgment, acknowledgment, judgment, lodgment et al), with the forms without -e preferred in American English.  The most widely known example of the spelling variation is probably judgment vs judgement.  In modern use, judgement is said to be a "free variation" word where either spelling is considered acceptable as long as use is consistent.  Like enquiry vs inquiry, this can be a handy where a convention of use can be structured to impart great clarity: judgment used when referring to judicial rulings and judgement for all other purposes although the approach is not without disadvantage given one might write of the judgement a judge exercised before delivering their judgment.  To those not aware of the convention, it could look just like a typo.  The meaning "attract the attention of" is from 1640s; that of "employ" is from 1640s, derived from "binding as by a pledge."  Specific sense of "promise to marry" is variously cited as dating from between 1610 and 1742 and the military meaning emerged in 1664.  Related forms are the nouns non-engagement and re-engagement, now almost always hyphenated.  Engagement is a noun, engage is a verb, engaging is a noun, verb & adjective and engaged is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is engagements.

A long tradition

The western concept of engagement is derived from the Jewish law (Torah), codified in the last Talmudic tractate of the Nashim (Women) order in which the marriage process is defined in two parts, the erusin (or kiddushin), a betrothal ceremony of sanctification and the nissu'in (or chupah), the formal act of marriage.  This is wholly analogous with the modern tradition of (1) the engagement which reflects a change of relationship between the couple and (2) the marriage which changes their legal status under either, or both, state and church law.  In antiquity, both Hellenic Greece and Rome borrowed and adapted the Hebrew practice with little change.

In the West, canon lawyers proved more exacting, secular lawyers more avaricious and engagements assumed an increasingly contractual form.  While either party could break a betrothal, it was once possible for the spurned partner to sue the other for breach of promise, which, in some jurisdictions, was called heart-balm.  In Australia, these actions were rendered obsolete when Lionel Murphy's (1922–1986; attorney-general of Australia 1972-1975) Family Law Act (1975) replaced the old Matrimonial Causes Act, a matter of some regret to bishops, Liberal Party lawyers and other moralists.  Also affected were publications like Melbourne’s now sadly defunct Truth which, in its divorce reports, published not only salacious details of infidelity but also the photographs produced as evidence, shots taken typically through the windows of St Kilda hotel rooms.

In Australia, in the narrow technical sense, engagements are compulsory in that one month must elapse between the submission of the Notice of Intended Marriage form and the marriage proper although a prescribed authority may approve a shorter notice time in some limited circumstances (such as when former Governor-General Sir John Kerr (1914-1991) wished rapidly to marry his second wife Anne (aka Nancy (née Taggart, previously Robson)).  Engagements in Australia thus, generally, have a statutory minimum duration of one month.  There's no maximum, but there’s no record of one matching the longest known engagement, a sixty-seven year arrangement between a Mexican couple; there may have been commitment issues.

On Sunday 28 November 2021, Lindsay Lohan announced her engagement to her boyfriend of two years, Bader Shammas (b 1987), a Dubai-based vice-president with Credit Suisse.  The announcement was made in the twenty-first century way: Instagram.

Ultracrepidarian

Ultracrepidarian (pronounced uhl-truh-krep-i-dair-ee-uhn)

Of or pertaining to a person who criticizes, judges, or gives advice outside their area of expertise

1819: An English adaptation of the historic words sūtor, ne ultra crepidam, uttered by the Greek artist Apelles and reported by the Pliny the Elder.  Translating literally as “let the shoemaker venture no further” and sometimes cited as ne supra crepidam sūtor judicare, the translation something like “a cobbler should stick to shoes”.  From the Latin, ultra is beyond, sūtor is cobbler and crepidam is accusative singular of crepida (from the Ancient Greek κρηπίς (krēpís)) and means sandal or sole of a shoe.  Ultracrepidarian is a noun & verb and ultracrepidarianism is a noun; the noun plural is ultracrepidarians.  For humorous purposes, forms such as ultracrepidarist, ultracrepidarianish, ultracrepidarianize & ultracrepidarianesque have been coined; all are non-standard.

Ultracrepidarianism describes the tendency among some to offer opinions and advice on matters beyond their competence.  The word entered English in 1819 when used by English literary critic and self-described “good hater”, William Hazlitt (1778–1830), in an open letter to William Gifford (1756–1826), editor of the Quarterly Review, a letter described by one critic as “one of the finest works of invective in the language” although another suggested it was "one of his more moderate castigations" a hint that though now neglected, for students of especially waspish invective, he can be entertaining.  The odd quote from him would certainly lend a varnish of erudition to trolling.  Ultracrepidarian comes from a classical allusion, Pliny the Elder (circa 24-79) recording the habit of the famous Greek painter Apelles (a fourth century BC contemporary of Alexander the Great (Alexander III of Macedon, 356-323 BC)), to display his work in public view, then conceal himself close by to listen to the comments of those passing.  One day, a cobbler paused and picked fault with Apelles’ rendering of shoes and the artist immediately took his brushes and pallet and touched-up the sandal’s errant straps.  Encouraged, the amateur critic then let his eye wander above the ankle and suggested how the leg might be improved but this Apelles rejected, telling him to speak only of shoes and otherwise maintain a deferential silence.  Pliny hinted the artist's words of dismissal may not have been polite.

So critics should comment only on that about which they know.  The phrase in English is usually “cobbler, stick to your last” (a last a shoemaker’s pattern, ultimately from a Germanic root meaning “to follow a track'' hence footstep) and exists in many European languages: zapatero a tus zapatos is the Spanish, schoenmaker, blijf bij je leest the Dutch, skomager, bliv ved din læst the Danish and schuster, bleib bei deinen leisten, the German.  Pliny’s actual words were ne supra crepidam judicaret, (crepidam a sandal or the sole of a shoe), but the idea is conveyed is in several ways in Latin tags, such as Ne sutor ultra crepidam (sutor means “cobbler”, a word which survives in Scotland in the spelling souter).  The best-known version is the abbreviated tag ultra crepidam (beyond the sole), and it’s that which Hazlitt used to construct ultracrepidarian.  Crepidam is from the Ancient Greek κρηπίς (krēpís) and has no link with words like decrepit or crepitation (which are from the Classical Latin crepare (to creak, rattle, or make a noise)) or crepuscular (from the Latin word for twilight); crepidarian is an adjective rare perhaps to the point of extinction meaning “pertaining to a shoemaker”.

The related terms are "Nobel disease" & "Nobel syndrome" which are used to describe some of the opinions offered by Nobel laureates on subjects beyond their specialization.  In some cases this is "demand" rather than "supply" driven because, once a prize winner is added to a media outlet's "list of those who comment on X", they are sometimes asked questions about matters of which they know little.  This happens because some laureates in the three "hard" prizes (physics, chemistry, physiology or medicine) operate in esoteric corners of their discipline; asking a particle physicist something about plasma physics on the basis of their having won the physics prize may not elicit useful information.  Of course those who have won the economics or one of what are now the DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion) prizes (peace & literature) may be assumed to have helpful opinions on everything.

Jackson Pollock (1912-1956): Blue Poles

In 1973, when a million dollars was a still lot of money, the National Gallery of Australia, a little controversially, paid Aus$1.3 million for Jackson Pollock’s (1912-1956) Number 11, 1952, popularly known as Blue Poles since it was first exhibited in 1954, the new name reputedly chosen by the artist.  It was some years ago said to be valued at up to US$100 million but, given the increase in the money supply (among the rich who trade this stuff) over the last two decades odd, that estimate may now be conservative and some have suggested as much as US$400 million might be at least the ambit claim.

Number 11 (Blue poles, 1952), Oil, enamel and aluminum paint with glass on canvas.

Blue Poles emerged during Pollock’s "drip period" (1947-1950), a method which involved techniques such throwing paint at a canvas spread across the floor.  The art industry liked these (often preferring the more evocative term "action painting") and they remain his most popular works, although at this point, he abandoned the dripping and moved to his “black porings phase” a darker, simpler style which didn’t attract the same commercial interest.  He later returned to more colorful ways but his madness and alcoholism worsened; he died in a drink-driving accident.

Alchemy (1947), Oil, aluminum, alkyd enamel paint with sand, pebbles, fibers, and broken wooden sticks on canvas.

Although the general public remained uninterested (except by the price tags) or sceptical, there were critics, always drawn to a “troubled genius”, who praised Pollock’s work and the industry approves of any artist who (1) had the decency to die young and (2) produced stuff which can sell for millions.  US historian of art, curator & author Helen A Harrison (b 1943; director (1990-2024) of the Pollock-Krasner House and Study Center, the former home and studio of the Abstract Expressionist artists Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner in East Hampton, New York) is an admirer, noting the “pioneering drip technique…” which “…introduced the notion of action painting", where the canvas became the space with which the artist actively would engage”.  As a thumbnail sketch she offered:

Number 14: Gray (1948), Enamel over gesso on paper.

“Reminiscent of the Surrealist notions of the subconscious and automatic painting, Pollock's abstract works cemented his reputation as the most critically championed proponent of Abstract Expressionism. His visceral engagement with emotions, thoughts and other intangibles gives his abstract imagery extraordinary immediacy, while his skillful use of fluid pigment, applied with dance-like movements and sweeping gestures that seldom actually touched the surface, broke decisively with tradition. At first sight, Pollock's vigorous method appears to create chaotic labyrinths, but upon close inspection his strong rhythmic structures become evident, revealing a fascinating complexity and deeper significance.  Far from being calculated to shock, Pollock's liquid medium was crucial to his pictorial aims.  It proved the ideal vehicle for the mercurial content that he sought to communicate 'energy and motion made visible - memories arrested in space'.”

Number 13A: Arabesque (1948), Oil and enamel on canvas.

Critics either less visionary or more fastidious seemed often as appalled by Pollock’s violence of technique as they were by the finished work (or “products” as some labelled the drip paintings), questioning whether any artistic skill or vision even existed, one finding them “…mere unorganized explosions of random energy, and therefore meaningless.”  The detractors used the language of academic criticism but meant the same thing as the frequent phrase of an unimpressed public: “That’s not art, anyone could do that.”

Number 1, 1949 (1949), Enamel and metallic paint on canvas. 

There have been famous responses to that but Ms Harrison's was practical, offering people the opportunity to try.  To the view that “…people thought it was arbitrary, that anyone can fling paint around”, Ms Harrison conceded it was true anybody could “fling paint around” but that was her point, anybody could, but having flung, they wouldn’t “…necessarily come up with anything.”  In 2010, she released The Jackson Pollock Box, a kit which, in addition to an introductory text, included paint brushes, drip bottles and canvases so people could do their own flinging and compare the result against a Pollock.  After that, they may agree with collector Peggy Guggenheim (1898-1979) that Pollock was “...the greatest painter since Picasso” or remain unrepentant ultracrepidarians.  Of course, many who thought their own eye for art quite well-trained didn't agree with Ms Guggenheim.  In 1945, just after the war, Duff Cooper (1890–1954), then serving as Britain's ambassador to France, came across Pablo Picasso (1881–1973) leaving an exhibition of paintings by English children aged 5-10 and in his diary noted the great cubist saying he "had been much impressed".  "No wonder" added the ambassador, "the pictures are just as good as his".   

Helen A Harrison, The Jackson Pollock Box (Cider Mill Press, 96pp, ISBN-10:1604331860, ISBN-13:978-1604331868).

Dresses & drips: Three photographs by Cecil Beaton (1904-1980), shot for a three-page feature in Vogue (March 1951) titled American Fashion: The New Soft Look which juxtaposed Pollock’s paintings hung in New York’s Betty Parsons Gallery with the season’s haute couture by Irene (1872-1951) & Henri Bendel (1868-1936).

Beaton choose the combinations of fashion and painting and probably pairing Lavender Mist (1950, left) with a short black ball gown of silk paper taffeta with large pink bow at one shoulder and an asymmetrical hooped skirt by Bendel best illustrates the value of his trained eye.  Critics and social commentators have always liked these three pages, relishing the opportunity to comment on the interplay of so many of the clashing forces of modernity: the avant-garde and fashion, production and consumption, abstraction and representation, painting and photography, autonomy and decoration, masculinity and femininity, art and commerce.  Historians of art note it too because it was the abstract expressionism of the 1940s which was both uniquely an American movement and the one which in the post-war years saw the New York supplant Paris as the centre of Western art.  There have been interesting discussions about when last it could be said Western art had a "centre".

Eye of the beholder: Portrait of Lindsay Lohan in the style of Claude Monet at craiyon.com and available at US$26 on an organic cotton T-shirt made in a factory powered by renewable energy.

Whether the arguments about what deserves to be called “art” began among prehistoric “artists” and their critics in caves long ago isn’t known but it’s certainly a dispute with a long history.  In the sense it’s a subjective judgment the matter was doubtless often resolved by a potential buyer declining to purchase but during the twentieth century it became a contested topic and there were celebrated exhibits and squabbles which for decades played out before, in the post modern age, the final answer appeared to be something was art if variously (1) the creator said it was or (2) an art critic said it was or (3) it was in an art gallery or (4) the price tag was sufficiently impressive.

So what constitutes “art” is a construct of time, place & context which evolves, shaped by historical, cultural, social, economic, political & personal influences, factors which in recent years have had to be cognizant of the rise of cultural equivalency, the recognition that Western concepts such as the distinction between “high” (or “fine”) art and “folk” (or “popular”) art can’t be applied to work from other traditions where cultural objects are not classified by a graduated hierarchy.  In other words, everybody’s definition is equally valid.  That doesn’t mean there are no longer gatekeepers because the curators in institutions such as museums, galleries & academies all discriminate and thus play a significant role in deciding what gets exhibited, studied & promoted, even though few would now dare to suggest what is art and what is not: that would be cultural imperialism.

In the twentieth century it seemed to depend on artistic intent, something which transcended a traditional measure such as aesthetic value but as the graphic art in advertising and that with a political purpose such as agitprop became bigger, brighter and more intrusive, such forms also came to be regarded as art or at least worth of being studied or exhibited on the same basis, in the same spaces as oil on canvas portraits & landscapes.  Once though, an unfamiliar object in such places could shock as French painter & sculptor Marcel Duchamp (1887-1968) managed in 1917 when he submitted a porcelain urinal as his piece for an exhibition in New York, his rationale being “…everyday objects raised to the dignity of a work of art by the artist's act of choice.”  Even then it wasn’t a wholly original approach but the art establishment has never quite recovered and from that urinal to Dadaism, to soup cans to unmade beds, it became accepted that “anything goes” and people should be left to make of it what they will.  Probably the last remaining reliable guide to what really is "art" remains the price tag.

1948 Cisitalia 202 GT (left; 1947-1952) and 1962 Jaguar E-Type (1961-1974; right), Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), New York City.

Urinals tend not to be admired for their aesthetic qualities but there are those who find beauty in things as diverse as mathematical equations and battleships.  Certain cars have long been objects which can exert an emotional pull on those with a feeling for such things and if the lines are sufficiently pleasing, many flaws in engineering are often overlooked.  New York’s Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) acknowledged in 1972 that such creations can be treated as works of art when they added a 1948 Cisitalia 202 GT finished in “Cisitalia Red” (MoMA object number 409.1972) to their collection, the press release noting it was “…the first time that an art museum in the U.S. put a car into its collection.”  Others appeared from time-to-time and while the 1953 Willys-Overland Jeep M-38A1 Utility Truck (MoMA object number 261.2002) perhaps is not conventionally beautiful, its brutish functionalism has a certain simplicity of form and in the exhibition notes MoMA clarified somewhat by describing it as a “rolling sculpture”, presumably in the spirit of a urinal being a “static sculpture”, both to be admired as pieces of design perfectly suited to their intended purpose, something of an art in itself.  Of the 1962 Jaguar E-Type (XKE) open two seater (OTS, better known as a roadster and acquired as MoMA object number 113.996), there was no need to explain because it’s one of the most seductive shapes ever rendered in metal.  Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) attended the 1961 Geneva Motor Show (now defunct) when the Jaguar staged its stunning debut and part of E-Type folklore is he called it “the most beautiful car in the world”.  Whether those words ever passed his lips isn’t certain because the sources vary slightly in detail and il Commendatore apparently never confirmed or denied the sentiment but it’s easy to believe and many to this day agree just looking at the thing can be a visceral experience.  The MoMA car is finished in "Opalescent Dark Blue" with a grey interior and blue soft-top; there are those who think the exhibit would be improved if it was in BRG (British Racing Green) over tan leather but anyone who finds a bad line on a Series 1 E-Type OTS is truly an ultracrepidarian.   

Indefatigable

Indefatigable (pronounced in-di-fat-i-guh-buhl)

Incapable of being tired out; not yielding to fatigue; untiring.

1580-1590: From the French indefatigable, from the Latin indēfatīgābilis (untiring; that which cannot be wearied).  The construct was in (in the sense of "not") + defatigare (to tire out) from de- (utterly, down, away) + fatigare (to weary).  A dictionary of 1656 has an entry for defatigable which does seem to have been used in the seventeenth century before going extinct; a revival in 1948 was a jocular back-formation (a la "gruntled" or "combobulated") from indefatigable and one which never caught on.  Indefatigable is an adjective, indefatigableness & indefatigability are nouns and indefatigably is an adverb; the noun plural is indefatigabilities.  It seems indefatigable may have been a back-formations of the adverb indefatigably, the latter recorded as being in use in the mid-sixteenth century.

HMS Indefatigable, a Royal Navy battlecruiser launched in 1909 and sunk while part of Vice-Admiral Sir David Beatty's (1871-1936) battlecruiser fleet in the 1916 Battle of Jutland.  Santa Cruz Island, the most populous and second-largest island in Ecuador's Galápagos Islands is also known as Indefatigable Island, the Admiralty bestowing the name in honor of HMS Indefatigable, a ship of the line with a distinguished battle record during Napoleonic Wars and later saw service in the Royal Navy's South America squadron.

Battlecruisers were essentially battleships with less armor, therefore gaining speed at the cost of greater vulnerability.  The theory was they would have the firepower to out-gun all but the battleships and those they could out-run with their greater speed.  The concept seemed sound and in December 1914, at the Battle of the Falkland Islands, two Royal Navy battlecruisers vindicated the theory when they chased and destroyed the German East Asia Squadron.  However, in 1916, the performance of the battlecruisers in the Jutland engagement forced the Admiralty to re-consider.  Jutland was the closest thing to the great battle of the fleets which had been anticipated for decades but proved anti-climatic, both sides ultimately choosing to avoid the decisive encounter which offered the chance of victory or defeat.  What it did prove was that the naval theorists had been right; the battlecruiser could not fight the battleship and if their paths threatened to cross, the less-armored vessel should retreat and rely on greater speed to make good her escape.  There were technical deficiencies in the British ships, without which perhaps three of their battlecruisers wouldn’t have been lost, but what happened at Jutland made it clear to the admirals that uneven contests between the big capital ships were to be avoided.

For naval architects, warship design was a three-way tussle between speed, firepower and armor; to add to one was to detract from at least one of the others.  That was difficult enough when constrained only by physics and economics but after the First World War, international agreements limited the maximum tonnage of the big ships so the choice became either to compromise the design or cheat.  Some countries did the former, some the latter but all seemed to agree the battlecruiser was extinct and indeed, after Jutland, no battlecruiser was laid down for over sixty years.  The pocket-battleships of the 1930s, although similar, were a different breed.

Before the fall: Soviet nuclear-battlecruiser Kirov at anchor in the Baltic, a Krivak I-class guided-missile frigate in the background, December, 1989.  Later re-named the Admiral Ushakov, she and the Admiral Lazarev (ex-Frunze) are now in the throes of being scrapped.

It was thus a surprise when the Soviet navy announced the commissioning of five Kirov class battlecruisers, four of which were built, launched during the 1980s and 1990s.  Although the official Russian designation of the ship-type is heavy nuclear-powered guided missile cruiser (тяжёлый атомный ракетный крейсер), admiralties in the West, still nostalgic about the big ships, choose to revive the old name "battlecruisers".  They’re the largest conventional warships launched since World War II; only aircraft carriers and amphibious assault ships have been of greater displacement.  Expensive to operate, only the Pyotr Velikiy (ex-Yuriy Andropov) remains in operational service and, according to recent NATO bulletins, she has been at sea as part of a fleet exercise as recently as mid-2021.  Although the Admiral Nakhimov (ex-Kalinin) is currently undergoing a refit and is now scheduled to re-enter service in 2023, the re-commissioning date has shifted many times and NATO sources remain sceptical she will ever return to the active list.

Many adjectives have been applied to Lindsay Lohan; indefatigable is probably under-used.

Parthian

Parthian (pronounced pahr-thee-un)

(1) A native or inhabitant of Parthia.

(2) An Iranian language of ancient and medieval Parthia.

(3) Of or relating to, or characteristic of Parthia, its inhabitants, or their language.

522: (Although use doubtless predates the first recorded use)  It refers to a native or inhabitant of Parthia (ancient kingdom northeast of Persia in western Asia) and was from the Old Persian Parthava (a dialectal variant of the stem Parsa and the source of "Persia" (the plural was Partienes).  In English, Parthian had been used by historians and geographers since the 1520s and the familiar adjectival form "Parthian shot" seems to date from the early nineteenth century but images of the act had existed for two millennia and had since the 1630s been referred to as the "Parthian fight".  William Shakespeare (1564–1616) liked the word: Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight (Cymbeline (circa 1610), Act I, Scene VII).  Parthian is a noun & adjective and if used in the sense of “of or relating to the historic Parthia or Parthians” it is with an initial capital; the noun plural is Parthians.

The Parthian shot and the parting shot

Journalists at Murdoch tabloid the New York Post can be relied upon to re-purpose a metaphor.

The Parthian shot was a military tactic, used by mounted cavalry and made famous by the Parthians, an ancient people of the Persian lands (the modern-day Islamic Republic of Iran since 1979).  While in real or feigned retreat on horseback, the Parthian archers would, in full gallop, turn their bodies backward to shoot at the pursuing enemy.  This demanded both fine equestrian skills (a soldier’ hands occupied by his bows & arrows) and great confidence in one's mount, something gained only by time spent between man & beast.  To make the achievement more admirable still, the Parthians used neither stirrups nor spurs, relying solely on pressure from their legs to guide and control their galloping mounts and, with varying degrees of success, the tactic was adopted by many mounted military formations of the era including the Scythians, Huns, Turks, Magyars, and Mongols.  The Parthian Empire existed between 247 BC–224 AD.

As a metaphor, “Parthian shot” describes a barbed insult or some sort of attack delivered while in the act of retreat.  There are aspiring pedants who like to point this out to those using the term “parting shot” in a similar vein and while they’re correct the latter is sometimes being used incorrectly, in many instances they’re right for the wrong reasons.  “Parthian shot” seems first to have appeared in a letter written by an army officer serving under the Raj, Captain Godfrey Mundy (1804-1860), ADC (aide-de-camp) to Field Marshal Stapleton Cotton (later Lord Combermere, 1773–1865; Commander-in-Chief, India 1825-1830) using it while speaking of a successful shot during one of the many hunting expeditions which so contributed to the slaughter of the sub-continent’s wildlife during the colonial era.  That was in 1832 and while there’s evidence of use in succeeding decades, it was after Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859–1930) published A Study in Scarlet (1886) which included the sentence: “With which Parthian shot he walked away, leaving the two rivals open-mouthed behind him” that the phrase began with some frequency to appear in English.

The battlefield tactic had for some time been known to historians and soldiers before it emerged as a metaphor and it’s thought Captain Mundy was being a little loose in his interpretation, everything suggesting the “Parthian shot” he mentioned was the firing his “Joe Manton” (a shotgun manufactured by the English gunsmith Joseph Manton (1766–1835)) backwards, over his shoulder, a trick with looks impressive in movies but which demands practice to avoid a self-inflicted injury.  Although it’s sometimes suggested “parting shot” was a folk etymology from “Parthian shot”, the former was in use by at least the late 1700s and etymologists can find no documentary evidence, however convincing the linkage may appear and it’s not impossible “parting shot” evolved (possibly even in more than one place) separately and among those who had never heard of the “Parthian shot”.  So, while the two terms are often used interchangeably and in general use “Parthian shot” is now rare, those who wish can achieve nuances of difference: (1) A “Parthian shot” is an attacking comment made while in retreat and (2) A “parting shot” is a “last word” delivered while breaking off from an oral engagement; it does not of necessity imply a retreat.

The Bolton-Paul Defiant (1939-1943)

The Royal Air Force (RAF) tried a variation of the Parthian shot with Bolton-Paul Defiant, a single-engined fighter and Battle of Britain contemporary of the better remembered Spitfire and Hurricane.  Uniquely, the Defiant had no forward-firing armaments, all its firepower being concentrated in four .303 machine guns in a turret behind the pilot.  The theory behind the design dates from the 1930s when the latest multi-engined monoplane bombers were much faster than contemporary single-engined biplane fighters then in service. The RAF considered its new generation of heavily-armed bombers would be able to penetrate enemy airspace and defend themselves without a fighter escort and this of course implied enemy bombers would similarly be able to penetrate British airspace with some degree of impunity.

By 1935, the concept of a turret-armed fighter emerged.  The RAF anticipated having to defend the British Isles against massed formations of unescorted enemy bombers and, in theory, turret-armed fighters would be able approach formations from below or from the side and coordinate their fire.  In design terms, it was a return to what often was done early in the First World War, though that had been technologically deterministic, it being then quite an engineering challenge to produce reliable and safe (in the sense of not damaging the craft's own propeller) forward-firing guns.  Deployed not as intended, but as a fighter used against escorted bombers, the Defiant enjoyed considerable early success, essentially because at attack-range, it appeared to be a Hurricane and the German fighter pilots were of course tempted attack from above and behind, the classic hunter's tactic.  They were course met by the the Defiant's formidable battery.  However, the Luftwaffe learned quickly, unlike the RAF which for too long persisted with their pre-war formations which were neat and precise but also excellent targets.  Soon the vulnerability of the Defiant resulted in losses so heavy its deployment was unsustainable and it was withdrawn from front-line combat.  It did though subsequently proved a useful stop-gap as a night-fighter and provided the RAF with an effective means of combating night bombing until aircraft designed for the purpose entered service.

Trends of Use

Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

Squint

Squint (pronounced skwint)

(1) To look with the eyes partly closed; partially to close the eyelids.

(2) In ophthalmology, to be afflicted strabismus (a condition of the eye consisting in non-coincidence of the optic axes); to be cross-eyed.

(3) To look or glance obliquely or sidewise; to look askance.

(4) To make or have an indirect reference to or bearing on; tend or incline toward (usually followed by toward, at etc).

(5) To be not quite straight, off-centred; to deviate from a true line; to run obliquely; askew, not level (as an intransitive verb in Scots English).

(6) In radio transmission, the angle by which the transmission-signal is offset from the normal of a phased array antenna.

(7) To cause to squint; cause to look obliquely.

(8) An act or instance of squinting.

(9) In informal use, a quick glance.

(10) An indirect reference; an inclination or tendency, especially an oblique or perverse one.

(11) In church architecture, a narrow oblique opening in a wall or pillar of a church to permit a view of the main altar from a side aisle or transept (also known as a hagioscope).

1350-1400: A variant of the earlier Middle English asquint, it was used first as an adverb in the sense of “with a squint; askant, the adjectival sense emerging in the 1570s and applied to the eyes, meaning “looking different ways; looking obliquely”.  The familiar modern meaning “looking indirectly, looking askance” dates from the 1610s.  The noun use (non-coincidence of the optic axes, permanent tendency to look obliquely) was a development from the adjective and came into use in the 1650s while the idea of a “sidelong glance” appeared a decade later.  Squint is a noun & verb, squinter & squintingness are nouns, squinty & squintless are adjectives, squinting is a noun & verb, squinted & squintest are verbs and squintingly is an adverb; the noun plural is squints.

Squint was not found in Middle English and the Middle English asquint has been traced to the early thirteenth century where it was used to mean “obliquely, with a sidelong glance” and is of uncertain origin although etymologists seem certain it was derived from some word related to or meaning “slope, slant, acute angle” although there are no surviving texts in which instances of use have survived.  This was also the French équinter (cut to a point) and the French dialectal esquintar & squintar (cast a glance, look furtively) and there may be a relationship but again, no documents exist to establish a link.  The Australian slang verb squiz was in use by at least 1916 (apparently with a civilian rather than military origin) and meant “to look at” (without any suggestion of it being “a quick look” and it may have been a portmanteau word, a blend of squi(nt) and (qui)z although the “quiz” part has never been explained and it may have the “z” was used just for the attractiveness of the sound.

Joe Biden with Ray-Ban Aviators (left) and without, squinting.

Joe Biden (b 1942; US president since 2021) is often photographed wearing a pair of Ray-Ban, gold-rimmed aviator sunglasses and they’ve become one of his signature accessories.  In less unhappy times he presented a custom pair of aviators to Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin (b 1952; president or prime minister of Russia since 1999) along with a crystal sculpture of an American bison, the US national mammal.  Gift giving between heads of governments is a centuries-old tradition and it’s not known what the US gave Imran Khan (b 1952; prime minister of Pakistan 2018-2022); those interested should probably check eBay.  When Mr Biden isn’t wearing his Ray-Bans, he’s often pictured squinting and there has been speculation about the reason for this: (1) his eyes could be highly sensitive to light, (2) he may suffer from a mild case of strabismus (an imbalance in the muscles controlling eye movement) or (3) he may have difficulty focusing on the teleprompter he needs to use because his cognitive decline has reached the point where he can no longer remember what he needs to say and he’s too old to learn how to sync his speech with the prompting his staff could provide through an earpiece.  His decline may accelerate and, if re-elected in 2024, he’ll be 86 when his term ends so there’s plenty of time for him to deteriorate to the point a clinician would pronounce senility.  Over the centuries, the world has had a few heads of state or government who variously have been (1) a bit vague, (2) senile or (3) barking mad but few of them have had their own nuclear arsenal.

Heads of state squinting: Kim Jong-un (Kim III, b 1982; Supreme Leader of DPRK (North Korea) since 2011, left) & Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021, right).

A squint (the partial closing of the eyelids) differs from a stare which is fixedly to look at something or someone.  A less common use (probably obsolete except in literary or poetic use) was to vest something with being “very conspicuous on account of size, prominence, colour, or brilliancy; to stand out; to project; to bristle”.  One can squint while staring but stares can be anything from a squint to something wide-eyed.  Stare was from the From Middle English staren, from the Old English starian (to stare), from the Proto-West Germanic starēn, from the Proto-Germanic starjaną & starāną (to be fixed, be rigid), from the primitive Indo-European ster-.  It was cognate with the Dutch staren (to stare), the German starren (to stare) and the German starr (stiff).  The verb was from the Old English starian (to gaze steadily with the eyes wide open, look fixedly at, be wide-eyed (with madness, awe etc)”, from the Proto-Germanic staren (be rigid (the source also of the Old Norse stara, the Middle Low German & Middle Dutch staren, the Old High German staren  & starren (to stare at), the German starren (to stiffen) & starr (stiff), the Old Norse storr (proud), the Old High German storren (to stand out, project) and the Gothic and staurran (to be obstinate), from the primitive Indo-European root ster- (stiff).  In English, use of the word originally did not imply rudeness.  The phrase “to stare [someone] down dates from 1848 and the first known reference to a “staring contest” is from 1895.  In his memoir (Inside the Third Reich (1969), Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) claimed that during a communal meal, he once won an informal “staring contest” with Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945), something which presumably be felt compelled to mention because so many of his contemporaries had in their memoirs and interviews commented on “Hitler’s hypnotic gaze”.

If looks could kill: Greta Thunberg (in pink) death-staring Donald Trump.

A frequently seen version of the stare is the so-called “death stare”, the idea being that one is looking at another with a hatred of such intensity it’s suspected one wishes them to die.  The idea of being able to “subject (someone) to the intimidating power of a stare" date from the 1670s and in popular culture, books have been written and films produced with a plotline involving someone able to doom another with nothing more than a stare.  Noted weather forecaster Greta Thunberg’s (b 2003) famous death stare directed at Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021) during the United Nations (UN) climate change summit, New York, September 2019.  Those needing an illustration for a school project about the use of the phrase “If looks could kill” need look no further.  In response, Mr Trump tweeted: “She seems like a very happy young girl looking forward to a bright and wonderful future. So nice to see!”  Ms Thunberg trumped Trump’s mockery by adding to her X (the app formerly known as Twitter) profile: “A very happy young girl looking forward to a bright and wonderful future.”

Crooked Hillary Clinton had many reasons to stare at her husband and quite a few were caught on camera.  Analysts suggest that while it's hard to judge, her stares may at times have verged on being "death stares".

Stare is etymologically unrelated to stair (one of or a series of steps; a staircase) which was from the Middle English steire, staire, stayre, stayer, steir, steyre & steyer, from the Old English stǣġer (stair, staircase), from the Proto-Germanic staigriz (stairs, scaffolding), from the primitive Indo-European steyg- (to walk, proceed, march, climb”).  It was cognate with the Dutch steiger (a stair, step, wharf, pier, scaffolding), the Middle Low German steiger & steir (scaffolding) and the German Low German Steiger (a scaffold; trestle).  It was related to the Old English āstǣġan (to ascend, go up, embark), the Old English stīġan (to go, move, reach; ascend, mount, go up, spring up, rise; scale) and the German Stiege (a flight of stairs).  Stairs are used by the Spanish to illustrate the meaning of the word “enigma”: “A fellow who, were one to meet him of the stairs, one couldn’t be sure if he was coming up or going down”.

A sideways glance from Lindsay Lohan, opening night of Club Lohan, Athens, Greene, October 2016.

In the context of human vision, it means briefly to look at something or someone and it has additional senses including (1) To cause light to gleam or sparkle and (2) literally and figuratively to induce something to move obliquely, the idea picked up in cricket to describe the stroke in which the batsman hits the ball with the bat held at a slant (the classic version being the “leg glance”).  The figurative use can extend from the use of the eyes to communicate feelings to making an incidental or passing reflection, often unfavourably, on a topic.  The significance of a glance is its briefness.  The verb was from the Late Middle English glenchen (of a blow: to strike obliquely, glance; of a person: to turn quickly aside, dodge), from the Old French glacier, glachier & glaichier (to slide; to slip (from which Middle English also gained glacen (of a blow: to strike obliquely, glance; to glide)), from glace (frozen water, ice), from the Vulgar Latin glacia, from the Latin glaciēs (ice), from the primitive Indo-European gel- (to be cold; to freeze).  The noun was derived from the verb and emerged circa 1500, used initially in the sense of “a sudden movement producing a flash” and the familiar modern meaning “a brief or hurried look” dates from the 1580s and this was probably influenced by the Middle English glenten (look askance).  The sideways glance is one effected “from the corner of the eyes”.  For evolutionary reasons, we signal meaning with a variety of non-verbal clues (the so-called “body language”) and usually, when looking at someone, one turns one head in their direction and so one’s glance will be straight ahead.  If one wishing to convey one is especially interested, one turns one’s whole body to face them.  A sideways glance differs in that it’s an indirect mode of engagement, the most negative form of which is said to be “looking sideways” at someone but most sideways glances are more indicative of being merely uninterested.