Macabre

Macabre (pronounced muh-kah-bruh, muh-kahb or muh-kah-ber)

(1) Gruesome or horrifying; grim; ghastly; horrible.

(2) Of, pertaining to, dealing with, or representing death, especially its grimmer or uglier aspects.

(3) Of or suggestive of the allegorical dance of death and related works of art.

1370s: From the French macabre, from the Middle French danse (de) Macabré, of uncertain origin.  It may have been influenced by the Medieval Latin chorēa Machabaeōrum (a representation of the deaths of Judas Maccabaeus and his brothers) but there’s no documentary evidence (the Maccabees a “liberation movement” who in the second and first centuries BC established Jewish independence in the Land of Israel),  In the popular imagination, the biblical Maccabees became associated death because of the doctrines and prayers for the dead in 2 Maccabees 12:43-46 in which is discussed Judas Maccabeus sending money to Jerusalem as a “sin offering” for those of his soldiers who had fallen in battle while wearing idolatrous amulets, forbidden by Jewish law.  Theologically, the passage is controversial because not all accept the interpretations which focus on the significance of a Jewish belief in prayer for the dead and the concept of Purgatory as a place rather than conceptual imagining.  The notion of “prayer & payments” as the means by which the dead could be “loosed from their earthly sins” so in Purgatory their souls would undergo purification after death did become embedded in Christianity, later associated with the rampant corruption of clerical indulgences which would play a part in triggering the reformation.  The alternative suggestion for the etymology is the French form was (via the Spanish macabro) from the Arabic مَقَابِر (maqābir) (cemeteries), plural of مَقْبَرَة (maqbara) or مَقْبُرَة (maqbura).  Borrowing from the Arabic in plural form was not unusual (eg magazine, derived from the plural مخازن (maxāzin) of the Arabic singular noun مخزن (maxzan) (storehouse; depot; shop) so etymologically the theory is possible but, like the Latin link, evidence wholly is lacking. 

The abstracted sense of “characterized by gruesomeness” emerged in French in the 1840s and that was picked up by English by at least 1889, dictionaries noting a racial sense from 1921.  The sense of “a comedy that deals in themes and subjects usually regarded as serious or taboo” was what extended the figurative use, suggesting “something morbid”.  The origin of that, although contested, is most associated with the French left and new wave of the late 1950s (pièce noire, comédie noire) which may have been the source of the terms “black comedy” & “dark comedy” in English.  Words similar in meaning include spooky, ghastly, ghoulish, grisly, morbid, gruesome, weird, frightening, grim, lurid, cadaverous, deathly, dreadful, frightful, ghostly, hideous, horrible, offensive & scary.  The first known reference to “danse macabre” dates from 1376 in the poem Respit de la Mort: Je fis de macabre la dance (Spared from death, the dance of the macabre) by Jehan Le Fèvre:

Je fis de Macabre la danse,
Qui tout gent maine à sa trace
E a la fosse les adresse.

I danced with the Macabre,
Which all people follow in his footsteps
And send them to the grave.

The poet used it as a noun, inspired presumably by a near-death experience but when it in the early-mid 1400s came into common use it was as an adjective and during the Romantic era it assumed also the meanings some distance from death (grotesque, tragic etc).  In the late Middle English the spelling was Macabrees daunce (reflecting the influence of the Church) and the French pronunciation (with mute “e”) was a misreading of the Middle French forms.  Macabre is an adjective, macabreness is a noun and macabrely is an adverb.  The spelling macaber is now so rare as to be functionally extinct and in popular culture macabre is used as a non-standard noun (the plural “the macabres”, on the model of the disparaging “the ghastlies”).  

Dance of Death

Danse Macabre of Basel (circa 1450), a memento mori painting by an unknown artist, Historisches Museum Basel (Basel Historical Museum), Barfüsserkirche, Basel, Switzerland.

The Danse Macabre (Dance of Death) was an artistic genre of allegory dating from the late Middle Ages; exploring the universality of death, it made clear that however high or low exulted one’s station in life, the death ultimately will visit all.  It was a popular artistic motif in European folklore and the most elaborated of all Medieval macabre art.  During the fourteenth century, Europe was beset by deathly horrors, recurring famines, the Hundred Years’ War (1337-1453) and, looming over all, the Black Death, an outbreak of bubonic plague which between 1346-1353 may have killed as many as 50 million, making it one of history's most lethal pandemics.  In reducing the population of Europe by between a third and a half, its demographic, political and economic implications were felt for centuries.  In these difficult times, when death not infrequently would strike just about every family in some regions, the Danse Macabre culturally was assimilated across the continent, an omnipresent chance of either a sudden or lingering, painful death spurring not only a religious desire for penance but also an urge to make the most of whatever time was left to one.

Macabre montage: Three images from Terry Richardson's (b 1965) suicide-themed shoot with Lindsay Lohan, 2012.

Especially during the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, the theme was a source of the vivid and stark paintings on the walls of churches and the cloisters of cemeteries and ossuaries.  Art of the Danse Macabre was typically a depiction of the personification of death summoning the doomed to dance along to the grave and they featured characters from the exultated to the most humble; popes, emperors, lawyers, laborers & children all appearing, the popular motifs in the works including hourglasses, skulls and extinguished candles.  Although the art was moral and allegorical, many also had a satirical tone and, reflecting the mores of the times, although they made clear death finally would claim rich and poor alike, the living usually were arranged in an order following the the conventional sense of precedence, popes, cardinals, kings, dukes and such at the head of the queue, blacksmiths, fellmongers and farm workers knowing their place; the “cold gradations of decay” in the phrase of Dr Johnson (Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)).  The pieces were also among the multi-media productions of the medieval period, appearing variously in manuscript illustrations, printed books, paintings on canvas, wood & stone, engravings on stone and metal, woodcuts, sculpture, tapestry embroidery & stained glass as well as in prose & verse.  They were produced as mementos mori, a Latin phrase translated literally as “remember you will die”.  That wasn’t intended to be thought macabre but rather a gentle reminder of the brevity of life and the fragility of earthly existence, hopefully inspiring folk to live lives more fulfilling and purposeful.  The tradition, although it became increasingly detached from its religious associations, never died and has enjoyed periodic resurgences over the last six-hundred years, notably after horrific events such as epidemics or World War I (1914-1918).  The COVID-19 pandemic seemed not to stimulate similar art; popular culture’s preferred platforms have shifted.

The lure of macabre collectables 

It's macabrely ironic the market for bits and pieces associated with RMS Titanic (1911-1912) continues to be buoyant and although for decades after the end of World War II (1939-1945) the trade in Nazi memorabilia flourished on both sides of the Atlantic, in recent years such collecting has attracted increasingly strident criticism and in some jurisdictions the (public) buying and selling of certain items has been banned,  There remains some tolerance for the trade what which would otherwise anyway be collectable (aircraft, armoured vehicles and such) and items of genuine historical significance (such as diplomatic papers) remain acceptable but the circulation of mere ephemera with some Nazi link is increasingly being condemned as macabre and the higher the prices paid, the more distasteful it’s claimed to be.  Nor is it only material tainted by an association with the Nazis which is condemned by some as “trading in the macabre”.

French racing driver Pierre Levegh (1905-1955) in Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR (chassis 0006/55, left), the wreckage after the fire finally was extinguished (centre) and the surviving Elektron panel (right).

In 2023, a battered metal panel from the Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR (W196S, chassis 0006/55) which crashed during the running of the 1955 Le Mans 24 Hour endurance classic sold at auction for US$37,000.  That would have been unremarkable except it was in the aftermath of that crash that more than 80 spectators were killed and many more badly injured; it remains the most lethal single event in the history of the sport and one which led to some profound changes, many of which remain in force to this day.  Footage of the crash is available on-line and it will shock those accustomed to modern safety standards to see the cars continuing to race despite the carnage in the grandstand only metres away, the driver’s corpse lying on the track and the wreckage of the 300 SLR continuing to burn, the water used by fire-fighters making the intensity worse because of the exotic Elektron (a magnesium alloy) used in the lightweight construction.  The surviving panel (a cover placed for aerodynamic advantage over the passenger-side of the cockpit) was retrieved by a track marshal and it remained in his family’s possession until offered at auction by his nephew who inherited it.  Based on the unique underside markings, the factory confirmed the provenance and the auction house described it as “an authentic relic” from one of the “most exclusive models in the history of the automobile”, its special significance coming from involvement in “one of the most significant events in the history of international motor sport”.  Some though it macabre to be trading in something which gained its notoriety from so much death but the interest in such stuff in long standing, the Austin-Healey also involved in the incident in 2011 selling for US$1.3 million although it subsequently had been repaired and continued to race so anyway would have been a collectable on the historic racing circuit though doubtlessly it would have commanded a lower price.

US film star James Dean (1931–1955) with 1955 Porsche 550 Spyder (chassis 550-0055) shortly before his death, the 1955 Ford Country Squire with tandam-axle trailer the team’s tow vehicle (left), the wrecked Porsche (centre) and its salvaged transaxle in display mounting (right).

The Cadillac to Mr Dean's left is a 1953 model and, beyond both having four wheels, one of the few things it had in common with the Porsche was the availability of a manual transmission (Porsche at the time offered no choice).  The black Cadillac was probably fitted with the company's four-speed Hydra-Matic automatic transmission although, after a fire destroyed the factory, almost 30,000 were in 1953 equipped with Buick's famously smooth but inefficient two-speed Dynaflow.  After the end of production of the 1953 Series 75, almost three decades would pass before Cadillac again offered a model with a manual transmission although that didn't end well (among the Cadillac crowd the Cimarron (1982-1988) is never spoken of except in the phrase "the unpleasantness of 1982") but in a much more convincing way the option returned to the list in 2004 and by 2013, while one could buy a Cadillac with a clutch pedal, one could not buy such a Ferrari.  For most of the second half of the twentieth century, few would have thought that anything but improbable or unthinkable.   

The death toll need not be in the dozens for collectors to be drawn to relics associated with tragedy; one celebrity can be enough.  In 2021, the four-speed transaxle from film star James Dean’s 1955 Porsche 550 Spyder (550-0055) sold in an on-line auction for US$382,000.  Again, based on the serial number (10 046) & part number (113 301 102), factory verified the authenticity and of the auction lot and it was only the transaxle which had been salvaged from the wreck, the display stand and peripheral bits & pieces (axles, axle tubes, brake assemblies etc) all fabricated.  The crash happened on SR (South Route) 466 (now SR 46) near Cholame, California, en route to October’s upcoming Salinas Road Races and Mr Dean was driving to familiarize himself with his new 550 Spyder which, although mid-engined and thus with a preferable weight distribution compared with the rear-engined 356 which previously he’d campaigned, had characteristics different than he’d before experienced.  In the dimming light of the late afternoon, the Porsche collided with the passenger-side of a 1950 Ford Tudor (two-door sedan) which had just entered the highway, driven by California Polytechnic State University student Donald Turnupseed (1932-1955).  Mr Turnupseed (later cleared by authorities of any blame) suffered only minor injuries while Mr Dean, less than an hour later, was pronounced DoA (dead on arrival) at hospital.

The much re-printed photograph of Sofia Loren (b 1934, left) and Jayne Mansfield (1933-1967, right), Romanoff's restaurant, Beverly Hills, Los Angeles, April 1957 (right), the "Mansfield crash" aftermath, June 1967 (centre) and a 1966 Buick Electra 225, claimed to be the car in which Jayne Mansfield died, Dearly Departed Tours and Artifact Museum, Los Angeles, California (right).

Ms Loren's sideways glance, one of the most famous in Hollywood's long history of such looks, variously has been interpreted as “sceptical”, “disapproving” and “envious”, the latter view likely restricted to men.  Ms Loren herself explained the look as one of genuine concern the pink satin gown might not prove equal to the occasion; on the night, there were several photographers covering the event and images taken from other angles illustrate why that concern was reasonable.  There has never been any doubt Ms Mansfield's "wardrobe malfunction" was "engineered and rehearsed".  In her pomp a significant figure in popular culture and a genuine celebrity, Ms Mansfield was a model & actress and what would later come to be known as a “multi-media personality”.  When young she won a number of sponsored beauty contests including being crowned “Miss Magnesium Lamp”, “Miss Fire Prevention Week” and “Miss Photoflash” but it’s reported she drew the line at becoming “Miss Roquefort Cheese” on the grounds it “just didn’t sound right”, something on which she seems not to have expanded, the chance to be “Miss Prime Rib” later also declined.

Three months later and great minds are thinking alike: Shirley Perdew (1939-2020, right), looking at Jayne Mansfield, Garden of Allah Hotel, Hollywood, July 1957.  Ms Perdew had just been crowned "Miss Hollywood 1957") and, as a former "Miss Photoflash", Ms Mansfield had been invited to join the voting panel.  The hotel was built in 1913 as a private residence before in 1926 being converted into a residential hotel; it was demolished in 1959.

On 28 June 1967, Ms Mansfield was a front-seat passenger in a 1966 Buick Electra 225 four-door hardtop, en route to New Orleans where she was next day to be the subject of an interview.  While cruising along the highway at around two in the morning, the driver failed to perceive the semi-truck in front had slowed to a crawl because an anti-mosquito truck ahead was conducting fogging and blocking the lane.  The mist from the spray masked the truck's trailer and, the driver unable to react in time, the car hit at high speed, sliding under the semi-trailer, killing instantly the three front-seat occupants.  Although the myth has long circulated she was decapitated, an idea lent some credence by the visual ambiguity of photographs published at the time, while it was a severe head trauma, an autopsy determined the immediate cause of death was a "crushed skull with avulsion of cranium and brain".  The phenomenon of the “under-run” accident happens with some frequency because of a co-incidence of dimensions in the machines using the roads.  Pre-dating motorised transport, loading docks were built at a height of around four feet (48 inches; 1.2 m) because that was the most convenient height for men of average height engaged in loading and unloading goods.  Horse-drawn carts and later trucks were built to conform to this standard so trays would always closely align with dock.  Probably very shortly after cars and trucks began sharing roads, they started crashing into each other and, despite impact speeds and traffic volumes being relatively low, the under-run accident was noted in statistics as a particular type as early as 1927.

1966 Buick Electra 225 Custom four-door Hardtop. GM (General Motors) Buick Division publicity shot.

The Buick was sold to a Florida-based collector who for decades kept it in storage before it was obtained for exhibition by the Dearly Departed Tours and Artifact Museum in Los Angeles, California.  The museum, described by its founder Scott Michaels as “for two decades a Los Angeles fixture”, was located on Santa Monica Boulevard, across from the Hollywood Forever Cemetery and was a “bricks & mortar” outgrowth of was a guided bus tour he’d previously conducted, taking tourists around the locations of tragic or horrific events which had transpired in the city; he had no shortage of sites.  Mr Michaels coined the term “Death Hag” and, as the ongoing popularity of “dark tourism” (variants including “atrocity tourism” and “holocaust tourism”) indicates, there is a market among those attracted to the macabre although motivations for the interest will be varied.  The museum had a focus on departed pop-culture celebrities and other exhibits included Mae West’s (1893–1980) false teeth, Rock Hudson’s (1925–1985) death bed, one of Sharon Tate’s (1943–1969) bras (32C) and a cigarette butt stubbed out by Carrie Fisher (1956-2016).

Dearly Departed Tours.

A thoughtfully designed site, as well as T-shirts and a gift store (blades of grass from the "grassy knoll" in Dealy Plaza, Dallas which made infomous by the assassination of John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963; a fragment of the timber from Rock Hudson's death bed; shards of the shattered windscreen of Jayne Mansfield's death car and much more), there's a helpful "Find-a-Death" lookup feature (described by the L.A. Times as "deliciously sordid").

Presumably, frequently Mr Michaels checks for updates on the the well-curated Dead People site and it’s unlikely he’ll soon run out of subject matter because the recent proliferation of platforms and distribution channels has meant not only are more celebrities than ever being manufactured but the churn rate has also significantly increased; his mantra: “Famous people die every day” more true now than ever.  Unfortunately, the museum was forced to close in 2021 during the COVID-19 pandemic but, with the same attention to detail, he moved “Dearly Departed Tours” online, an innovation which has enabled his catchment of the macabre to extend well beyond Los Angeles.

Estate

Estate (pronounced ih-steyt)

(1) A piece of landed property, especially one of large extent with an elaborate house on it.

(2) By extension, in computing, an institution’s collective ICT (information & communications technology) resources.

(3) In law, property or possessions.

(4) In law, the legal position or status of an owner, considered with respect to property owned in land or other things (the degree or quantity of interest that a person has in land with respect to the nature of the right, its duration, or its relation to the rights of others; interest, ownership, or property in land or other things.

(5) In law, the property of a deceased person, a bankrupt etc, viewed as an aggregate.

(6) In UK use, a housing development (sometimes a class-based slur (Council estate (ie directed at those living in social housing)).

(7) As “industrial estate”, land areas designated exclusively for industrial or commercial purposes.

(8) In automotive use, as “estate car” (often clipped to “estate”), an alternative term for a station wagon.

(9) A period or condition of life (archaic).

(10) Within society, one of the major political or social group or classes, historically: (1) the clergy, (2) the nobles, and (3) everybody else; they were style respectively as first, second & third estates with a fourth (the press) later added.  Subsequent additions are not universally acknowledged.

(11) Condition or circumstances with reference to worldly prosperity, estimation, etc.; social status or rank.

(12) The owner of an estate (obsolete).

(13) Pomp or state (obsolete).

(14) High social status or rank (obsolete).

(15) To give an estate to (obsolete).

(16) To bestow upon (obsolete).

1175–1225: From the Middle English estat, from Anglo-Norman estat and Old French estat (state, position, condition, health, status, legal estate), from the Latin status (state or condition, position, place; social position of the aristocracy), from the primitive Indo-European PIE root sta- (to stand, make or be firm).  It was cognate with the Provençal estat and for some time in Anglo-French there was the spelling astat; the form endures in modern French as état.  The native word in the Middle English was ethel (ancestral land or estate, patrimony), from the Old English æðel.  Estate is a noun, verb & adjective, estateman is a noun, estating is a verb and estated is an adjective; the noun plural is estates.

The idea of an estate being the collective property and liabilities of someone (usually of the deceased, bankrupts or debtors) dates from the 1820s and as well as being part of legal jargon (in probate or bankruptcy proceedings), it became a commercial term (“estate sale”, “estate jewellery” etc).  That ultimately was derived from the thirteen century sense when it was used generally of one’s “state, condition or rank in society”.  Presumably because of late fourteenth century use of “estate” to mean “real property” (ie land), in the early 1500s the meaning in this context between then and seventeenth century extended (socially upwards) to imply “a person of estate” (ie the rich, nobility, gentry etc); that was an example of “linguistic association” and the various uses ran in parallel with the technical use in law.  As early as the fourteenth century, there was the idea of “Estates of the Realm”, each a major social class or order of persons regarded collectively as part of the body politic of the country and possessing distinct (and very different) political rights.  At the time the “major” in that phrase referred either to wealth and power (the clergy or nobility) or sheer numbers (everybody else).  By the eighteenth century, the use of “estate” to refer to “the general body politic; the common-wealth” had faded and had been replaced by “the state” and later, “the nation”.

The Third Estate dealing with the First & Second: Execution of Marie Antoinette (1755–1793; Queen Consort of France 1774-1792), 16 October, 1793 by an unknown artist.

In the English-speaking world, the classic example of the three “political estates” was the English model of the Lords Spiritual (bishops), Lords Temporal (hereditary peers) and Commons.  There were though variations on the theme.  The ancient Parliament of Scotland comprised the king and three estates: (1) archbishops, bishops, abbots & mired priors, (2) the barons and commissioners of shires and stewartries (the lands under the jurisdiction of a steward (a magistrate appointed by the crown to exercise jurisdiction over royal lands)) and (3) the commissioners from the royal burghs.  In France the three estates were (1) the nobles, (2) the clergy and (3) the plebs; collectively, these were known as the États Généraux (pronounced ay-tah zhay-nay-roh).  Before Louis XVI (1754–1793; King of France 1774-1792) on 5 May, 1789, summoned the assembly, the États Généraux hadn’t met for 175 years, that meeting in 1614 convened during the minority reign of Louis XIII (1601–1643; King of France 1610-1643).  The 1614 assembly ended in deadlock and that meant no legislative measures ensued (suiting the kings and most of the nobility), thus cementing absolutism as the nature of the French state; operating as absolute monarchs, kings had no interest in sharing power and it was only as a last resort in 1789 with the ancien regime facing a catastrophic financial crisis and structural gridlock that Louis XVI fell compelled to convene the assembly.  By then, it was too little, too late and before long, the guillotine began its bloody business.

Danse Macabre of Basel (circa 1450), a memento mori painting by an unknown artist, Historisches Museum Basel (Basel Historical Museum), Barfüsserkirche, Basel, Switzerland.

The Danse Macabre (Dance of Death) was an artistic genre of allegory dating from the late Middle Ages; exploring the universality of death, it made clear that however high or low exulted one’s station in life, the death ultimately will visit all.  It was a popular artistic motif in European folklore and the most elaborated of all Medieval macabre art.  During the fourteenth century, Europe was beset by deathly horrors, recurring famines, the Hundred Years’ War (1337-1453) and, looming over all, the Black Death, an outbreak of bubonic plague which between 1346-1353 may have killed as many as 50 million, making it one of history's most lethal pandemics.  In reducing the population of Europe by between a third and a half, its demographic, political and economic implications were felt for centuries.  The artists often included some subtle comment about the way something like plague could take victims regardless of their wealth or social standing.  In the modern era, the principle remains, one just as dead whether one is struck by a meteorite, drinks oneself to death or is murdered by the Freemasons.

In the UK, while the composition has much changed, structurally the estates still exists as the (1) the Lords Spiritual (26 Church of England bishops with ex officio seats in the House of Lords, (2) the Lords Temporal (hereditary and life peers, a subset of each sitting in the House of Lords) and (3) the Commons (elected representatives sitting in the House of Commons).  Those examples are however only formalized examples of the ancient (and almost certainly universal) graduation of societies into hierarchical layers.  While the criteria used to establish the layers could between cultures vary, as far as is known, no society with any form of organization has ever not operated on some sort of stratified basis, something not surprising given that’s the inherent (and natural) arrangements of families, human or animal.  Indeed, so pervasive was the idea of “degree” that in the highly stratified Europe of the late Middle Ages, it extended even to the rank-order of birds in the sport of falconry: falcons exclusively were for royalty, peregrines for noblemen, merlins for noblewomen, goshawks for yeomen, sparrowhawks for priests and kestrels for knaves or servants.  Whether in the royal court, the Church, the orders of chivalry or whatever, there were established and well-understood layers.  Even in art, the sense of a living in a layered system was reflected, the many artists between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries who created memorable illustrations of the danse macabre depicting the members of the various estates going to their inevitable death is ways that reflected their status; while there might in death be a kind of democratic equality, the last days of some were celebrated more than others although the works often were satirical and it’s obvious the demise of the rich wasn’t always something to be mourned.

Statue of Edmund Burke (erected 1868), in electro-typed copper-bronze on a square-plan, carved stepped granite plinth with incised lettering, Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland.  Photograph by John Sutton.

The three (in England) estates were originally the three classes of people who could participate in government, either directly or by electing representatives, originally the clergy, barons & knights and the commons (though over time this would change).  Later the “three estates” were sometimes written of as “the three organs of governmental” necessary for legislation: the Crown, the House of Lords and the House of Commons.  Building on the notion of three, the idea of a “Fourth Estate” started to appear in satirical or jocular expressions, the targets of the tag including “the mob” (1752) and “the lawyers” (1825).  In time, a “new” Fourth Estate did join the list and it described the press, the origin often attributed to Anglo-Irish Whig statesman and philosopher Edmund Burke (1729-1797) although the concept was popularized in the writings of Irish literary critic & essayist William Hazlitt (1778–1830); what Burke had suggested was that with newspapers becoming more numerous and more influential, journalists, editors and publishers should be regarded as “the Fourth Estate”.  First seriously discussed in early the 1820s, within a decade the term had gained currency, supplanting earlier associations (although in both Burke and Hazlitt there are unsubtle hints they likely thought of journalists as “the mob in print”, a view doubtlessly reflecting the opinions of most politicians.  From the modest (if sometimes strident) folios of the eighteenth century to Rupert Murdoch’s (b 1931) Fox News today, it’s clear Burke’s insight was prescient.  Subsequent creations have not universally been accepted as part of the political lexicon but the ideas explored are not without foundation.  The term “Fifth Estate” was first seen in the US during the 1960s counterculture and was used as the name of a newspaper first printed in Detroit in 1965 and still published.  Were one generous one could describe that publication as an example of “critical theory” but it was of its time and certainly an outlet for discontent and dissent.  The understanding of the Fifth Estate evolved into a socio-cultural reference encompassing the opinions of those generally excluded from (or at least marginalized by) the mainstream media and in the twenty-first century it included those distributing their content on blogs, vlogs and social media platforms.  It became a generally accepted concept.

Rupert Murdoch with an edition of News of the World, October 1968.

Mr Murdoch is the last of the old style “press barons” (though he declined Margaret Thatcher's (1925–2013; UK prime-minister 1979-1990) offer of a peerage), it will be interesting to see, decades from now, if history acknowledges him, politician W.M. "Billy" Hughes (1862–1952; prime minister of Australia 1915-1923), virologist Sir Macfarlane Burnet (1899–1985) or second wave feminist Germaine Greer (b 1939) as the twentieth century's most influential Australian.  All cast long shadows, some darker than others.

Less accepted is the idea, first suggested in the late 1980s (before the www (world wide web made the internet an accessible, mass market commodity) there’s a “Sixth Estate” functioning as an observer, critic, and counterweight to the Fourth (the press) and Fifth Estate (non-mainstream online media).  The basis of the concept was the realization a political phenomenon of the 1980s was groups of citizens organizing as pressure groups to pursue issues of interest that although tending to be relatively small in number, their clever use of the mainstream media meant they were able (often as “agenda-setters”) to exert an influence beyond their size and budgets.  Obviously, blogs and social media were the natural environment for such groups although, as big tech rapidly honed their techniques, it’s likely in some cases the hunter has been captured by the game but, at least for their sectional audiences, some of the “Sixth Estate” functions still as an unofficial counterweight to the traditional press (now described variously as the “mainstream media” (however archaic that may be), “legacy media” or, as Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) prefers: “fake news media”.  Wholly opportunistic was the attempt to coin “Seventh Estate”.  That was the idea the newest influence to reach critical mass and influence was the “expert strategic advisor”, apparently a collective term for “business analysts, management consultants, thought leaders, market researchers” and such.  The notion of the Seventh Estate seems less a serious contribution to political theory than a marketing promotion.  There may be a case to be made for the recognition of a Seventh Estate and that is as a description of consumer-packaged AI (artificial intelligence).  While philosophers and scientists can write erudite pieces discussing why what AI produces can’t be “independent thought”, it certainly can appear to be and, as theories of cognition explain, that may be enough for some to legitimize AI as the “Seventh Estate”.

Estate cars

UK advertising for the Australian-built Chrysler Valiant Regal Estate, 1975.

Although with engines as large as 360 cubic inch (5.9 litre) V8s, the Australian-built Chrysler Valiants might seem a curious choice for the UK market in the post-oil shock 1970s, the demise of the big Humbers left a gap in the range and in 1967 the Australian cars had the advantage of benefiting from the Commonwealth preference scheme, a low tariff regime which was the last relic of the chimera of imperial free trade.  Sales were never more than a trickle but the Chryslers were close to unique in the tiny market segment and the programme for a while remained profitable even after the tariff advantage was lost in 1973 when the UK joined the EEC (European Economic Community (1957), the Zollverein that would evolve into the EU (European Union (1993)); The cars remained available until 1976.  Although in Australia and South Africa the Valiant station wagons had been called “Safaris” (after 1973 they would in the home market become “station wagons”), in the UK they were always marketed as “Estates”, reflecting the local practice.

1950 Ford Country Squire.

The model represented a transition in method, the timber still real (mahogany plywood with birch or maple spars) but the roof now of steel.  The timber component would later become “fibreglass over appliqué” and that look would for decades endure though as something purely decorative with no structural role. Although the look is better known as the “station wagon”, “estate cars” began life literally as “a car built for use on one’s estate”.  Because, in this context, ownership of an estate was a preserve of the rich (including many with massive debts), the parameters of an estate car’s design included being large, comfortable and able easily to accommodate life’s essentials (hunting dogs, polo gear, fishing rods, shotguns etc).  So that was specific but while there was sufficient demand to make the early estate cars for decades a thing in the catalogues of coachbuilders, there weren’t that many rich folk so rather than using full-metal bodies, what tended to be done was take a the chassis and frontal components of a conventional two or four-door saloon and add a “station wagon like” rear section in timber.  Combining the eye of a coachbuilder with the hands of craftsmen skilled in timberwork, some elegant creations emerged in the pre-war years (some built as late as the 1950s) and the look influenced mainstream manufacturers in the post-war years with timber spars and panels appearing on station wagons, sedans and convertibles (although fibreglass and plastic appliqué would soon replace the natural product, despite which the “woodie” & “woody” nicknames remained).  Inheriting an earlier tradition, the coach-built estate cars came to be called “shooting brakes”.

Estate cars stared life on the estates of the rich: 1937 Bentley 4¼-Litre Shooting Brake by Vincents of Reading.

Although entirely representative of the style of shooting brakes built in the 1930s, Bentley 4¼-Litre chassis B142JD retained until 1949 its original all-weather tourer body by Vanden Plas, converted to a shooting brake in 1949-1950 by the coachbuilder Vincents of Reading.  Founded in 1805 and best known in the era for their closed horse-drawn carriages and railway cars, Vincents began building bodies for motor cars in 1899 but their most commercially successful lines turned out to be the “horse boxes” (now often called “horse floats”) which could accommodate up to four horses and were towed behind cars or trucks.  Post-war realities meant coach-building became a challenging business model and in the late 1940s Vincents shifted their focus to trucks and busses which provided a more stable flow of contracts but a small volume of cars were built as late as 1955; the Bentley shooting brake on a 1937 chassis was untypical but an example of the bespoke work possible.  Vincents built their last car body in 1981.

1961 Chrysler New Yorker Town & Country Wagon.

The economies of scale of the US industry in the post-war years was achieved volume production and efficient assembly with a high degree of interchangeability of parts.  What that meant was it was viable to manufacture even low-volume ranges like the four-door hardtop (ie no B-pillar) station wagons.  As a body-style, they were unique in the world and were in their era kind of the "ultimate estate" and a then unusual combination of something originally purely functional (the station wagon) with the flourish of a motif (the four-door hardtop) that had no purpose other than to look stylish; never big sellers, they were available for a decade, the last produced in 1964.  The same mix 'n' match approach would later produce the sports car based shooting brakes.

The industry never formalized the exact meaning of “shooting brake” but, by convention, since at least the 1920s, it came to be used to describe a two-door car (there were variations) with estate-car coachwork added aft, usually in timber (although some sheet metal was sometimes included).  The origin of the use lies in the original shooting brakes, large horse-drawn carts suitable for use by shooting parties (ie groups of people being taken to a spot at which it was convenient to slaughter wildlife).  The “brake” element in the name was derived from the popularity of the heavy-framed carts for in “breaking-in” spirited horses; etymologists have pointed out the Dutch brik (cart or carriage) but any link is speculative.  In the UK, the term “brake” became so identified with large horse-drawn carts it was applied widely, extended to carts generally, whether or not used by shooting parties.  In France, an estate car (station wagon) was called a break, the French (somewhat unusually) following the example in English, the original form having been break de chasse (hunting break).

Marilyn Cole (b 1949) with the pink Volvo 1800ES she was in 1973 awarded as the prize for being judged Playboy magazine’s PotY (Playmate of the Year).  The last scion of the P1800 coupé (1961-1972), the 1800ES was made only in 1972-1973, production ending because it would have been prohibitively expensive to re-engineer the old platform to meet US safety standards.  The lovely lines of the “estate section” were an in-house project and it remains perhaps the most accomplished shooting brake adaptation from a coupé.  In Sweden, its nickname was Fiskbilen (fish van) which wasn't encouraging but in German-speaking lands, it was dubbed the rather more charming Schneewittchensarg (Snow White's coffin), a nod to the frameless, all-glass rear door.  Doubtlessly the statuesque Ms Cole won PotY on merit but her photo-shoot was the first in which a “full-frontal nude” image appealed in the magazine so that alone may have been enough to persuade the judges.

Not all Volvo estates were as admired Snow White's coffin: Lindsay Lohan with sledgehammer destroying Volvo V70 Estate (1996-2000).

The stunt was something to do with a TV series being cancelled and while an explanation was provided, the rationale was a little difficult to understand and the text was TLDR but whatever, a Volvo got trashed and Ms Lohan obviously enjoyed swinging a sledgehammer so all's well that ends well.  It's impressionistic but it does seem likely the unfortunate reputation once attached to Volvo drivers was disproportionately gained because of those driving the estates.  

Sir David Brown's original Aston Martin DB5 shooting brake, 1965.

In recent decades, what are labelled shooting brakes have tended to be based on fast (or at least “fast-looking”) sports cars rather than the large chassis preferred for the purpose during the inter-war years.  While the shooting brakes commissioned by the HFS (huntin’, fishin’ & shootin’) set could be well-proportioned and even elegant, they were not “sporty” but that market niche emerged in the 1960s.  The best known early examples were the Reliant Scimitar GTE (1968-1986) and Volvo 1800 ES (1972-1973) and what legitimized the style (a two-door coupé with estate coachwork to the aft) was what Sir David Brown (1904–1993) thought would be a one-off based on an Aston Martin DB5 coupé (1963-1965, which the factory, in their English way, called a “saloon”).  Sir David liked his DB5 saloon but found it too cramped comfortably to accommodate his polo gear, shotguns and hunting dogs.  Now, that would be called a “first world problem” but because Brown then owned Aston Martin, he simply wrote out a work order and had his craftsmen create a bespoke shooting brake (thereby confirming the informal English definition of the term: “station wagon owned by someone rich”) which they did by hand-forming the aluminum panels with hammers over wooden formers.  It delighted him and solved the problem but created another because good customers started writing him letters asking for their own.  While folk offering to pay for a company's products usually is a good thing, at the time, Aston Martin was at full capacity building DB5s and developing the up-coming DB6, DBS and V8 models.  With a bulging order book, the resources didn’t exist to add a niche model so the project was out-sourced to the coachbuilder Radford which built a further 11 (and subsequently another 6 based on the DB6 (1965-1971)).  The “sporty” shooting brakes of course had nothing like the storage capacity of the old-style versions, the design imperative being to enlarge a sports car’s luggage space beyond the traditional “toothbrush & bikini”.  So they were better suited to dirty weekends or trips to the ski slopes than a day spent slaughtering wildlife but nobody seems to have thought of a better term and because of the historic association with class & wealth, the target market likes “shooting brake”.

Leveraging her real-life history of driving incidents and DUI incidents, Lindsay Lohan appeared in the Esurance “Sorta Mom” spoof insurance commercial, shown during the 2015 Super Bowl.  The fourth-generation Chrysler Town & Country minivan (2001-2007) was typical of what “soccer moms” drove after the demise of the station wagon.

Citroën CX Loadrunner by Tissier.

The estate version of the Citroën CX (1974-1991) was made between 1975-1991; it was called “Break” in France and “Safari” in the UK.  The most interesting variant was a six-wheel version which permitted a higher load capacity, the best known use as high-speed transporters of newspapers (remarkably heavy in bulk).  Although fitted with low-powered diesel engines, the slippery aerodynamics and advanced suspension made high average speeds possible and proved the most economical way to move the quickly, over distances.  This was a pre-digital version of the “information superhighway”.

“Estate” was but one of the terms used of the body style best known as the “station wagon”, others included “Safari” (France & Australia), “Station Sedan” (Auatralia), “Break” & “Commercial” (France), “Kombi”, “Universal” & “Touring” (Germany”) and “Squire” (US).  The station was perhaps the most emblematic vehicle of post-war America, its popularity a product of (1) increasing prosperity leading to the “two car household” becoming the norm, (2) families moving from cities to newly developed, sprawling suburbs and (3) shopping patterns shifting from inner city department and grocery stores to vast suburban malls (with ever larger car parks, groceries taken from store to car by the provided shopping carts).  Thus the perfect conjunction: women and their station wagons driving to the mall to shop, a model which contributed to the post war US boom.  Internationally long in decline, the station wagon died out in the US by the 1990s although sales in Japan and Europe continued to be strong enough for a number of models to be sustained and in Australia, Holden kept one in the catalogue until the end of the operation in 2017.  Those who once bought station wagons opted instead for minivans, SUVs (sports utility vehicles) or “Crossovers” (vehicles with SUV-like bodywork but built on a lighter platform) while those needing something suitable for unpacking the picnic basket in the polo-ground’s car-park are now (almost) all driving Range Rovers.

Ossuary

Ossuary (pronounced osh-oo-er-ee or os-oo-er-ee)

(1) A structure dedicated to the storage of the bones of the dead.

(2) Any container for the burial of human bones, such as an urn.

(3) By extension, a place for discarded or broken items or (figuratively), of abandoned concepts or ideas. 

1650-1660: From the Late Latin ossuārium (charnel house; receptacle for bones of the dead), a neuter of ossuārius (of or for bones) and variant of ossārium, the construct being oss- (stem of os) (bone (plural ossua)) + -ārius (the adjectival suffix giving the sense “of or related to”).  The Latin os was from the primitive Indo-European ost (bone).  The model for the word was mortuarium, and the alternative form remains ossuarium.  Ossuary and ossuarium are nouns and ossuarius is an adjective; the noun plural is ossuaries.

The Sedlec Ossuary at Starosedlecká, Kutná Hora, in the Bohemian region of the Czech Republic lies about 42 miles (70 km) east of the capital, Prague.  A medieval town, much of the baroque architecture was build between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries from the wealth generated by the adjacent silver mine.  On architectural grounds alone Kutná Hora is worthy of its status as a UNESCO World Heritage site but, in the suburb of Sedlec is the Church of All Saints which probably deserves a separate listing.

Sedlec’s Church of All Saints is better known as the Sedlec Ossuary, the church of bones, said to contain the bones of between some forty and sixty-thousand dead.  Its origins were a mission by the abbot of the Sedlec Cistercian Monastery, sent by the King of Bohemia to Jerusalem.  The abbot returned with an urn of soil from the Golgotha, the place where Jesus Christ was said to be crucified and this earth he spread around the grounds of the church’s cemetery.  As word of the "Holy Soil" became known, from all over Bohemia, people began to ask to be buried at Sedlec’s Church of All Saints.

Such was the demand that by the fifteenth century, skeletal remains had to be exhumed from the cemetery, the town needing to expand and more space needed for the more recently dead.  In what may sound a little shocking (but must have been judged theologically sound), the bones lay stacked in the basement of the church until 1870 when František Rint (1835-circa 1895), a woodcarver and carpenter from the small town of Česká Skalice in northern Bohemia, was employed by the House of Schwarzenberg (the ruling family of the town) to organize and arrange them.  The results of his efforts were spectacular, the carpenter creating intricate sculptures, including several chandeliers and a copy of the Schwarzenberg coat of arms.  The most spectacular of the chandeliers is also technically interesting for anatomists, said to include at least one of every bone in the human body

The elaborate constructions may seem macabre but each is accompanied by religious displays arranged from bone, conveying to visitors the message that the chapel remains a respectful place of worship and indeed, regular masses continue to be held in both the upper and lower chapel.  Musical performances however are staged only within the church proper so what might prove the interesting acoustic properties of all those bones remains unexplored.  The site, opened to tourists early in the century proved popular, almost a quarter-million visiting in the last year before the pandemic and it quickly became the biggest attraction in central Bohemia.  The financial blessing has proved also a curse however, local residents complaining the volume of visitors often overwhelms the operations of what remains a functioning Roman Catholic church and cemetery.  It’s said there are tourists who treat the place as just another theme-park.

Still, such is the importance of the ossuary to the local economy, that the ancient site is often renovated, including some attention to the condition of the bones which sounds strange but it seems human bone is subject to discoloration over time and restoring them to a more brilliant white is thought greatly to enhance the tourists' visual experience.  Even if one’s taste doesn’t extend to the macabre, Kutná Hora remains one of the medieval treasures of Bohemia and within the same Cistercian complex as the ossuary is the Sedlec Cathedral, the Church of the Assumption of Our Lady and Saint John the Baptist.  Built between 1290-1320, the cathedral is one of the oldest remaining in the Baroque Gothic style and also enjoys a place on the UNESCO World Heritage list and a short distance from there is a truly secular attraction, the Kutná Hora's Chocolate Museum, a tiny homage to chocolate with exhibits dating from the early nineteenth century.  There are chocolate tasting sessions and private candlelit dinners can be booked.

The ossuary vibe: Lindsay Lohan wearing Alexander McQueen skull scarf, 2012.

So entrenched in fashion has the skull been for hundreds of years that not even its use (as the “Death’s Head”) by the Nazi SS (the Schutzstaffel (security squad), 1925-1945, also stylized as ᛋᛋ with Armanen runes) tainted it sufficiently to discourage its appearance on clothes, accessories and jewelry.  Seasonally, the popularity ebbs and flows but skulls are seemingly always at least a niche and the appeal is also cross-cultural, the skull variously a good luck charm and a symbol employed to ward of disease and evil spirits.  In the English-speaking world, the widespread use of the skull symbol seems to have begun in the Elizabethan period (1558-1603) although most acknowledge the practice began in Bohemia and came to England via sea-farers and traders, the original items being skull rings, either carved from a human jawbone or rendered from metal.  An especially popular form was the skull ring with the jawbone disappearing to create the illusion of a finger piercing the wearer's mouth, still a widely used pattern today.  One curious aspect of the appeal is that Satanists and Christians alike have both embraced the iconography, skulls a likely to be seen among Devil worshipers as they are to be in the mix with images of saints and crucifixes.  Of late though, while they haven’t disowned the medieval art, Christianity seems now less keen on skulls.  The Satanists remain committed.