Muse

Muse (pronounced myooz)

(1) To think or meditate in silence, as on some subject; to meditate upon.

(2) To gaze meditatively or in wonder (archaic though used still in poetry).

(3) A state of abstraction (archaic).

(4) Thoughtfully to comment or ruminate upon some topic.

(5) In Classical Mythology, originally the goddesses of song, meditation & memory, but latterly and more commonly as the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne who presided over various arts.

(6) The goddess or the power regarded as inspiring a poet, artist, thinker, or any goddess presiding over a particular art (sometimes lowercase); just about any source of inspiration.

(7) The genius or powers characteristic of a poet (always lowercase).

(8) As the acronym MUSE (Mainstream US English), the strain of US English considered to be standard or unmarked by dialectal variation in pronunciation, syntactic structures, or vocabulary, used in the mainstream news media and taught in (almost all) schools.

(9) A bar or poet (obsolete).

(10) A gap or hole in a hedge or fence through which a wild animal is accustomed to pass; a muset (rare though the concept is now often part of road or railroad construction as under or overpasses for the use of wildlife).

1300–1350: From the Middle English muse & musen (to mutter, gaze meditatively on, be astonished), from the Middle French muser, from the Old French (which may have been influenced by the Medieval Latin mūsus & mūsum (snout)).  The fourteenth century verb muse (to reflect, ponder, meditate; to be absorbed in thought) has a murky history, one strain of etymological thought being it was based on the idea of “standing with one's nose in the air” or even “to sniff about” (in the manner of a dog which has lost the scent), thus the link to muse (muzzle) from the Old French & Classical Latin mūsa (snout) of unknown origin.  The fourteenth century noun muse (one of the nine Muses of classical mythology) was from the Old French Muse and directly from the Classical Latin mūsa, from Ancient Greek Μοῦσα (Moûsa) (a muse (also music, song)), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European root men- (to think).  The sense of (an inspiring goddess of a particular poet (with a lower-case m-)) dates from the late fourteenth century.  Synonyms of the verb include brood, cogitate, consider, contemplate, deliberate, dream, feel, meditate, moon, percolate, ponder, reflect, revolve, roll, ruminate, speculate, think, weigh, chew over & mull over

The noun musing (act of pondering, meditation, thought) emerged at much the same time as a verbal noun from the verb.  The noun museum was first used in the 1610s to describe the university building in Alexandria and was from the Latin museum (library, study), from the Ancient Greek mouseion (place of study, library or museum, school of art or poetry (originally “a temple or shrine of the Muses”).  The earliest use in reference to English institutions was in the mid-seventeenth century when it was applied to libraries (in the sense of collections of books, documents and other manuscripts) for scholarly study (1640s) while the modern idea of a physical "building or part of a building set aside as a repository and display place for objects relating to art, literature, or science" dates from the 1680s.  Muse is a noun & verb, muser & musing are nouns, musing is a verb museful an adjective and musingly & musefully are adverbs; the noun plural is muses.

Portrait of Emma, Lady Hamilton (circa 1782) by George Romney.  Emma Hamilton (1765-1815) was the mistress of Vice-Admiral Lord Nelson (1758-1805) and muse of the portraitist, George Romney (1734-1802).

The acronym MUSE (Mainstream US English) seems first to have appeared in 1997 and describes what used to be called GA (General American), the unofficial standard accent of the United States.  It’s essentially the accent of much of the Midwest and the West and remains by far the most frequently heard on US broadcast news (regardless of political leanings or affiliation).  It’s thus something of an unofficial standard but does differ from the previous “prestige accent”, the so-called “trans-Atlantic” which was clipped and precise but without the exaggerated form of the UK’s RP (received pronunciation).  The critique of MUSE is that (MUSE) is often treated as morally superior, a view which of course implies negative perceptions of “non-standard languages”, a process of stigmatization which perpetuates dialect discrimination which can result in the disparagement or other mistreatment of users of non-standard varieties.  The acronym MUSE is merely descriptive among academics in the field but is politically divisive in that it’s thought by many as the superior accent in a hierarchy (an idea familiar in the UK) in which the regional forms (such as the Southern Accent) or those influenced by ethnic identity (such as African-American Vernacular English (AAVE)) are thought deviations from what is defined as “correct”.  A similar political movement is now promoting Ebonics (the construct a portmanteau of ebony + phonics which originally referenced the languages spoken by the descendants of slaves in the Caribbean, and North America but which was in the 1970s appropriated by African-American academic psychologist Professor Robert Williams 1930-2020), a defined sociolect of what technically is a sub-set of African-American English as an equally legitimate form of the language.  The dialect certainly differs from standard American English and its adoption as a political marker reflects the strain of multi-stranded separatism which now characterizes the positions taken by activists.  It’ll be interesting to see what happens because Ebonics is an example of how English has in the past evolved and, under the Raj, the British noted the adaptations their colonized peoples made to English and even adopted some of the words or expressions which proved useful.  Identity politics have of course evolved since the Raj and there’s now a view that to plunder something like Ebonics for the odd handy phrase would be an act of cultural appropriation and use must remain exclusive to people of color.

Lindsay Lohan, MUSE Magazine photo-shoot, January 2010.

Amuse (to divert the attention, beguile, delude) was a mid-fifteenth century verb from the Old French amuser (fool, tease, hoax, entrap; make fun of (literally "cause to muse" (in the sense of being distracted from some useful purpose)), the context being a- (from Latin ad- (through; towards), but here thought a causal prefix) + muser (ponder, stare fixedly).  This original sense in English is technically obsolete but echoes of the meaning live on in critiques the more serious-minded sometimes make of the more banal examples of popular culture.  For most of the eighteenth century, the word assumed the usual meaning “to deceive or cheat by first diverting attention”; the modern “bemuse” thus retaining something of the old meaning.  In the Ancient Greek amousos meant "without Muses (and hence "uneducated"), another connection some like to link to popular culture.  The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) noted “amuse” was never used by Shakespeare, indicating it wasn’t in widespread use before the seventeenth century.

In Classical Greek Mythology, the original three goddesses were Aoede (song), Melete (meditation), and Mneme (memory) but later writers fleshed-out the roll-call and scholars consider the standard canon to be the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne who presided over various arts: Calliope (epic poetry), Clio (history), Erato (lyric poetry), Euterpe (music), Melpomene (tragedy), Polyhymnia (religious music), Terpsichore (dance), Thalia (comedy), and Urania (astronomy).  In Roman mythology the Camenae were goddesses thought originally water deities, inhabiting a sacred grove and spring located outside the Porta Capena (gate in Rome's Servian Wall).  They were believed imbued with magic powers which could cure ailments and prophesy the future so in Roman religious rituals, the Camenae were offered libations of water and milk and it was the poet Quintus Ennius (circa 239–circa 169 BC) who identified them with the Muses; there they’ve remained.

Marilyn Monroe 1962 (left) & Lindsay Lohan 2011 (right).

Marilyn Monroe (1926–1962) has since her death been a visual muse for many in popular culture including Andy Warhol (1928-1987), Cynthia Sherman (b 1954), Richard Avedon (1923–2004), James Rosenquist (1933–2017), Richard Hamilton (1922-2011) & Richard Pettibone (b 1938), all of who followed their pursuit with a seriousness quite unfairly never afforded to her acting while she was alive.  Lindsay Lohan twice made a muse of Marilyn Monroe, in 2008 & 2011 reprising two of her photo sessions.

Funicular

Funicular (pronounced fyoo-nik-yuh-ler)

(1) Of or relating to a rope or cord, or its tension.

(2) Worked by a rope or the like.

(3) In physics and geometry, the curve an idealized hanging chain or cable assumes under its own weight when supported only at its ends (also known as a catenary).

(4) A type of cable car, usually described as a funicular railway which tends to be constructed on steep slopes and consist of a counterbalanced car sat either end of a cable passing round a driving wheel at the summit.

(5) Of or relating to a funicle.

(6) In medicine, of or pertaining to the umbilical cord.

(7) In botany, having a fleshy covering of the seed formed from the funiculus, the attachment point of the seed.

1655-1665: From the Latin funicle (a small cord) from the Latin funiculus (a slender rope), diminutive of funis (a cord, rope) of unknown etymology but possibly related to the Latin filum (thread), a doublet of file and (in anatomy), a filamentous anatomical structure.

The Funicular Railway

Castle Hill Funicular, Budapest, Hungary.  Opened in 1870, It ascends and descends 167 feet (51m) through a track of 312 feet (95m) in around ninety seconds.

A funicular railway employs (usually) two passenger vehicles pulled on a slope by the same cable which loops over a pulley wheel at the upper end of a track.  The vehicles are permanently attached to the ends of the cable and counterbalance each other. They move synchronously: while one is ascending, the other descends.  The use of two vehicles is what distinguishes funiculars from other types of cable railways although more complex funiculars have been built using four.  The first was built in 1874.

In 1943, Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & prime-minister of Italy 1922-1943) was deposed by a meeting of the Fascist Ground Council, a kind of senate he'd made the mistake of not dissolving when he had the chance.  In farcical circumstances, the Duce was arrested and spirited away and almost immediately, Fascism in Italy "burst like a bubble", a not inaccurate assessment but one which caused some embarrassment to Colonel-General Alfred Jodl (1890–1946; Chief of the Operations Staff OKW (Oberkommando der Wehrmacht (high command of the armed forces)) 1939-1945) who made the mistake of blurting it out in the presence of  Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945).  Not wanting the contagion to spread, Hitler ordered Mussolini be rescued so he could be established as a "puppet Duce" somewhere to try to preserve the illusion the "pact of steel" between the two fascist states remained afoot.    

Seeking a place to imprison the deposed Duce secure from any rescue attempt, the new Italian government locked him up at the Hotel Campo Imperatore, a mountain resort in Abruzzo accessible only by a funicular railway, judged (correctly) by the military authorities to be easily defensible against ground troops and without the facilities to support landings by aircraft.  However, a rapidly improvised operation using glider-borne Waffen-SS troops and a STOL (short take-off & landing) airplane staged a daring raid and freed the captive though it proved a brief reprieve, the Duce and his mistress executed by a mob less than two years later.

Fieseler Fi 156 Storch, Gran Sasso d'Italia massif, Italy, during the mission to rescue Mussolini from captivity, 12 September 1943.  The Duce is sitting in the passenger compartment.

The German liaison & communications aircraft, the Fieseler Fi 156 Storch (stork) was famous for its outstanding short take-off & landing (STOL) performance and low stalling speed of 30 mph (50 km/h) which enabled it almost to hover when faced into a headwind.  It was one of the classic aircraft designs of the era and so close to perfect it remained in production for years after the end of hostilities and re-creations are still often fabricated by those attracted by its close to unique capabilities.  The Storch’s ability to land in the length of a cricket pitch (22 yards (20.12 m)) made it a useful platform for all sorts of operations and while the daring landing on for a mountain-top rescue-mission in northern Italy was the most famous, for all of the war it was an invaluable resource; it was the last Luftwaffe (German air force) aircraft to land in Berlin during the last days of the Third Reich.  In 1943, so short was the length of the strip of grass available for take-off that even for a Storch it was touch & go (especially with the Duce’s not inconsiderable weight added) but with inches to spare, the little plane safely delivered its cargo.

In one of the war's more obscure footnotes, it was the characteristics of the Fieseler Storch which led to what was may have been the first appearance (in writing) for centuries of an old piece of Middle English slang, dating from the 1590s.  In sixteenth century England, the ability of the Kestrel (a common small falcon) to hover in even a light breeze meant it came to be known (in certain circles) as "the windfucker" and the similar ability of the Storch was noted in one British wartime diary entry in which the folk-name for the bird was invoked to describe the little aircraft seemingly "hanging in the air".

Traduce

Traduce (pronounced truh-doos or truh-dyoos)

(1) To malign a person or entity by making malicious and/or false or defamatory statements; slander; libel; defame.

(2) To pass on (to one's children, future generations etc.); to transmit (archaic).

(3) To pass into another form of expression; to rephrase, to translate (archaic).

1525–1535: From the Latin trādūcō (lead as a spectacle, dishonor), from trādūcere (to lead over, transmit, disgrace), a variant of trānsdūcere (to transfer, display, expose), the construct being tra- (from the preposition trāns (through, across, beyond)) + dūcere (to lead).  Synonyms include vilify, decry & disparage.  The Latin trādūcere was from the Proto-Italic tranzdoukō and cognates included the Italian tradurre and the French traduire.  The noun transduction (act of leading or carrying over) is from the 1650s, from the Latin transductionem & traducionem (nominative transductio) (a removal, transfer), noun of action from the past-participle stem of transducere & traducere (change over, convert) which also picked up the meaning "lead in parade, make a show of, dishonor, disgrace".  Traduce, traduction, traduced & traducing are verbs, traducement & traducer are nouns, traducingly is an adverb and traducible is an adjective; the most common noun plural is traducements.

To be traduced in speech or in writing (historically treated in English (and related) legal systems respectively as libel and slander but some systems have reformed their rules and now treat all as just the single concept of defamation) can allow the victim to seek redress through legal process, the available remedies including retractions, apologies and damages by way of financial compensation.  Also available is the injunction to prevent publication and what has become popular in some jurisdictions in the (secret) secret injunction, a device whereby (1) publication is denied, (2) all details of the matter (names of the parties or even an allusion to the nature of the proscribed material) and (3) the very fact any injunction has been granted is kept secret.

Mostly a thing of civil law, in some jurisdictions there’s still the offence of criminal defamation but its very existence is now less common and use seldom.  Criminal defamation exists when someone publishes defamatory material knowing it is, or not caring if it is, false with the intention to, or not having regard to whether it will, cause serious harm to the victim or any other person is guilty of a crime.  In most cases, the same defenses available in a civil action can be used in a criminal matter; a criminal charge does not preclude civil action being taken for the same publication.  The matter of truth is interesting.  In the United States, truth is an absolute defense to an action for defamation.  As many have found out, that doesn’t mean there aren’t in the US consequences for publishing something defamatory but the action taken will not be on grounds of libel or slander.  Although it seems strange to many, truth isn’t an absolute defense in many jurisdictions but it can be a matter raised in mitigation so that even if a judgment is delivered against a defendant, the damages awarded may be nominal.

Publish and be damned

Although there’s always been a suspicion a ghost writer may have helped a bit in matters of style, the content of Harriette Wilson’s (1786–1845) book The Memoirs of Harriette Wilson: Written by Herself was all her own.  First published in 1825, it was a best seller and thought topical enough to deserve a re-print a century later, it’s notable still for having one of the finest opening lines of any auto-biography ever published:

"I shall not say how and why I became, at the age of fifteen, the mistress of the Earl of Craven."

The cover of some of the French editions were more alluring than those sold in England.

However much the tales of Regency’s most revealing courtesan may have delighted readers, there was one not so happy.  In the mail one morning in December 1824, Arthur Wellesley (1st Duke of Wellington; 1769–1852, UK prime-minister 1828-1830) the famous soldier who led the coalition of armies which defeated Napoleon Bonaparte (1769–1821; leader of the French Republic 1799-1804 & Emperor of the French from 1804-1814 & 1815) at Waterloo in 1815, found a letter from the publisher John Joseph Stockdale (circa 1775-1847) which can’t have been pleasant reading.  Stockdale was attempting blackmail, advising the duke he was about to publish Miss Wilson’s revelations which contained “various anecdotes” of Wellington which “it would be most desirable to withhold” and that could be arranged were payment to be made.

Duke of Wellington (1816) by Sir Thomas Lawrence (1769-1830).

The duke's response was the famous “Publish and be damned!” reputedly scrawled across Stockdale’s letter and sent to him by return mail.  Publish Stockdale did, the book, a romp through the beds of the aristocracy appearing by installments before appearing in bookshops where it scandalized and thrilled London society although it would have been more salacious still had more of Stockdale’s blackmail victims had the fortitude of the iron duke and refused to pay.  An instant best-seller, the book went through thirty-one printings in a year and pirated copies were on-sale all over the continent but even without revenue from overseas sales the book was lucrative although the Stockdale was soon ruined by libel suits from those whose reputations had been traduced and Miss Wilson would eventually die in obscurity.

Riveting reading it may have been but so many of the libel actions against Stockdale were able to succeed in English courts because of the many errors of detail and chronology but historians nevertheless agree the narrative is substantially a reliable track of Miss Wilson’s adventures even if the sequence of events is sometimes misleading; to be fair, she had so many affairs it would be churlish not to allow for a little vagueness of recollection, one man presumably much the same as another after a while.  Whether “Publish and be damned!” in the duke’s own hand was ever written across the letter and sent back has never been confirmed because the original apparently hasn’t survived but there’s enough evidence from contemporaries to leave no doubt he certainly spoke the words but whatever she wrote of her time with Wellington, it must have been sufficiently truthful to convince the duke not to issue a writ for libel, despite at the time having threatened to sue “...if such rubbish is published”.

His marriage was already unhappy and the disclosures probably little surprised the duchess and the union endured until her death while the book clearly did no lasting harm to the duke's public reputation, the hero of Waterloo afforded some latitude in pre-Victorian England.  Within a decade of publication he would be prime minister and when he died in 1852, he was again a national hero and granted a state funeral, a rare distinction in England, unlike Australia where they’re given to reasonably successful football coaches and television personalities.  The phrase “Publish and be damned!” entered the language and was in 1953 used as the title of a book detailing the history of the Daily Mirror newspaper, a tabloid which once had its own interesting history.

To keep track of one's traductions, it's recommended a burn book be maintained.  Introduced to the world in Mean Girls (2004), "burn" in this context was used in the sense of "an insult, a disparaging statement" and, depending on one's motives, a burn book can either focus exclusively on one individual worthy of being burned (eg crooked Hillary Clinton) or be devoted to a villainous group (eg the Republican Party).  One of the attractions of a burn book is that nothing, however scurrilous, need be verified and heresy evidence is admissible (indeed it's probably obligatory).  Thus, accusations against someone of stuff like voting Tory, belonging to the Freemasons, enjoying sexual relations with certain vegetables & fruits (all three perhaps not unrelated), substance abuse or hoarding all belong in a burn book and, if selectively and anonymously leaked, reputations will be traduced.  The other utility a burn book offers is that nothing gets forgotten however great the volume, an important point for any traducer who likely will find someone like crooked Hillary will attract hundreds of entries.  Surely, Harriette Wilson kept a burn book.

Politicians do maintain burn books although few are much discussed.  Richard Nixon's (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974) "enemies list" became famous in 1973 when it emerged during congressional hearings enquiring into the Watergate break-in and that such a list existed surprised few although some did expect it to contain more names than the twenty included; it was common knowledge Nixon had many more enemies than that.  That view was vindicated when later lists were revealed (some containing hundreds of names) though had the net been cast a little wider, it could well have run to thousands.  At least one Eurocrat has also admitted to keeping a burn book although Jean-Claude Juncker (b 1954; president of the European Commission 2014-2019) calls his "little black book" Le Petit Maurice (little Maurice), the name apparently a reference to a contemporary from his school days who grew taller than the youthful Jean-Claude and seldom neglected to mention it.  Although maintained for some thirty years (including the eighteen spent as prime-minister of Luxembourg) to record the identities of those who crossed him, Mr Junker noted with some satisfaction it wasn't all that full because people “rarely betray me”, adding “I am not vengeful, but I have a good memory.”   It seems his warning “Be careful.  Little Maurice is waiting for you” was sufficient to ward of the betrayal and low skulduggery for which the corridors of EU institutions are renowned.

Pox

Pox (pronounced poks)

(1) In human & animal pathology, a disease characterized by multiple skin pustules, as smallpox, associated with the pockmarks left by the purulent skin eruptions.

(2) Historically, a reference to syphilis and sometimes to other venereal diseases (now called sexually transmitted diseases (STDs)) (archaic).

(3) In plant pathology, a disease of sweet potatoes, characterized by numerous pitlike lesions on the roots, caused by a fungus, Streptomyces ipomoea (also called soil rot and distinct from the condition root rot).

(4) In idiomatic use (usually as "a pox on (someone or something)"), an interjection to express distaste, rejection, aversion etc and thus a synonym of curse; the adjective poxy is a variation of the idea.

(5) As the acronym POx, variously Pulse Oximetry, Pressure Oxidation, Partial Oxidation, Point of Exit, Plain Old XML & Purgeable Organic Halogens.

(6) As the acronym POX (or PoX), proof of X.

Circa 1480s: A spelling variant of pocks, the plural of pock, from the plural of the Middle English pocke.  Pox in the sense of “a disease characterized by eruptive sores" emerged in the late fifteenth century, a spelling alteration of pocks & pockes (used since the late thirteenth century in this context), the plural forms of the Middle English pocke (pustule).  From the sixteenth century, it became the common word with which to refer to syphilis.  Pock (pustule raised on the surface of the body in an eruptive disease) was from the Middle English pok, from the Old English poc & pocc (pock; pustule; ulcer), from the Proto-Germanic pukkaz & pukkǭ (pock; swelling) and puh & puhh (to swell up; blow us), from the primitive Indo-European beu & bew- (to grow; swell).  It was cognate with the Middle Dutch pocke, the Dutch pok, the East Frisian pok, the dialectal German Pfoche, the Low German & German Pocke, the French pocque was also from Germanic sources.  The present participle is poxing and the past participle poxed; the noun plural is poxes.

As surnames, Pox & Pocks both long pre-dated the use in pathology and were of Germanic origin, recorded in Bavaria & Austria as a variant Of the Bavaria Böck) and the North German Beck (Baker).  Pox may in some cases have been an alternative spelling of these but is documented as a nickname for a “short man”, from the Low German Pōk (young child; Dwarf).  In some regions it may have been a Germanized form of both the Hungarian Pók and the Slovenian & Croatian Pok common in the Balkans.  In the US, Pox appears to have been an Americanized version of Pocks, most prevalent in the north-eastern states during the nineteenth century.

Coincidently, the Proto-Turkic bok means “dirt, dung” and was cognate with the Turkish bok & Chuvash пӑх (păh); in vulgar slang used predictably in the same sense as “shit” (solid excretory product evacuated from the bowel); the word persists in modern Azerbaijani.  The now idiomatic deprecatory adjective poxy entered English in the late nineteenth century as terms of distaste and disapprobation, having been in the medical literature sin 1853 in the sense of “infected with pox; pocked-marked”.

The noun pock-mark (pockmark later prevailed) dates from the 1670s and was used to describe “the scar or pit left by a pustule" after an infection, particularly after smallpox where the effects were most severe and it was noted as a verb & adjective after 1756.  The earlier word in this sense was the mid-fifteenth century pokbrokyn.  Pock-marked was used by astronomers to refer to the craters visible on the surface of the moon.

Cow-pox (also cowpox), was a disease of cattle, noted from the 1780s and the fluid of the vesicles made it transmissible to humans.  It played an important role in the history of inoculation because it was noted milkmaids (with much exposure to cowpox) enjoyed an almost complete immunity to smallpox.  Chicken-pox was first described circa 1730 and the name is thought either an allusion to the mildness of the condition (compared to syphilis (the pox) or smallpox) or it being most associated with children, or the resemblance of the lumps on the skin to chick-peas.  In medical Latin, the circa 1765 varicella (chicken-pox) was an irregular diminutive of variola, the adjectival form varicellous.  Smallpox, the acute, highly contagious disease and frequently (fatal in a quarter to a third of unvaccinated cases) deadly disease was first so named in the 1510s, as small pokkes, which distinguished the symptoms from the great pox (syphilis).

The famous exchange…

“You sir shall die either on the gallows or of the pox (ie from a STD)”.

“That sir, will depend on whether I embrace your principles or your mistress”.

.. has been attributed to many over the last two centuries odd so the ultimate source is uncertain but the first known record of what may anyway have been an apocryphal exchange appears to have been published in 1784 the London periodical The European Magazine.  Supposedly, protagonist and antagonist were the fourth Earl of Sandwich (1718-1792) and Samuel Foote (1720-1777) who met at a dinner held in his house by Sir Francis Blake Delaval. (1727–1771).

In the decades which followed, frequently the tale was re-told, sometimes with different participants (although Lord Sandwich was often named) and although occasionally embellished, what’s more interesting is that euphemisms and niceties were sometimes adopted; “the halter” replacing references to nooses and gallows and “p-x and “certain disease” substituting for pox.  Whether the changes reflected editorial taste or changes in what readers thought acceptable in print isn’t clear but by the early nineteenth century the anecdote was published with the punch-line but not the setup sentence.  That may however have been because, being well-known, by then a mere allusion was probably more funny still, a technique used to effect in the House of Commons as recently as 1968.  Whether or not the exchange ever happened or between who will never be known with certainty but the rejoinder is of such voltairesque quality it’s been attributed to more than half-a-dozen political notables.

Monkeypox

Little political energy could be summoned in the West to deal with climate change while it appeared to afflict only Africans, Arabs, Asians and animals (those inhabiting the places Mr Trump would have called “shithole countries”).  It took Europe & North America roasting, flooding and burning to focus minds.  Similarly, monkeypox (a zoonotic virus in the genus Orthopoxvirus) although for decades endemic in parts of Africa, attracted little interest in the West until outbreaks in 2022 and most people had probably never heard of it until a rapid spread of cases began to be reported in the UK, Europe and the US.  On 23 July 2022, the World Health Organization (WHO) declared the outbreak a Public Health Emergency of International Concern (PHEIC) with cases reported in 77 countries and territories, similar declaration in the past issued for Swine flu, polio, Ebola, Zika and Covid-19.

Monkeypox movement out of Africa 2022 tracked by the US Center for Disease Control (CDC).

Monkeypox gained its name in 1958 when scientists in Denmark isolated the virus in laboratory monkeys in 1958, when two outbreaks of the disease occurred in monkey colonies.  It’s since become clear that a number of rodents are much more efficient vectors of transmission and the virus is neither exclusive too nor most prevalent in monkey populations but, in the way of these things, the name stuck.  This is not a new phenomenon; the famous Spanish flu linked to the pandemic of 1918-1920 picked up the name only because cases there were reported in the press in 1918 whereas news of those already detected in the US, Europe and the UK were suppressed by wartime censorship which wasn’t applied in neutral Spain.  Another case is Rubella which came to be known as “German” measles, simply because it was scientists in that country which identified and first describe the cause and there are many more, most associated with countries not the source of the disease which bears the name.  It’s not known where and where a person first was infected but a human case of monkeypox was first documented in 1970 in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) in 1970.  Since then, the DRC has always recorded the majority of infections although between then and 2022, it had spread to a number of African countries, cases beyond the continent rare until 2022.

Example of regional variations in reported transmission: Nigeria 2017-2022.

Other associations linked to the name monkeypox have also become controversial and the WHO announced it is to receive a new name, noting comments from scientists and public health officials that the current name is "discriminatory and stigmatizing" and it’s also inaccurate to name versions of the virus after parts of Africa.  Accordingly, the WHO has already renamed two clades (from the Ancient Greek κλάδος (kládos) (shoot, branch, family) of the virus to avoid the stigma associated with geographical names: The variant formerly known as “Congo Basin'' will now be referred to as “Clade I” and the “West Africa” variant will be known as “Clade II”.  The first suggestion of a new name is hMPXV, to denote the human version of the monkeypox virus and rather than anything geographic locations, letters and numbers should be used, based on order of discovery. In that system, the lineage behind the current international outbreak would be dubbed hMPXV-B1.  Some local authorities have acted preemptively, Chicago public health authorities for example using the bland “MPV”.  Whatever it ends up being called however, in the West, like COVID-19, monkeypox may be here to stay.

Take-off point of 2022 spread charted by the Lancet.

One aspect of the epidemiology of monkeypox in the West is that some 95% of those diagnosed are gay or bi-sexual men (“men who have sex with men” now the preferred and most accurate terminology).  Activists from the relative LGBTQQIAAOP faction are among those advocating a change of name although this is unlikely to remove the stigmatization based on the rate of transmission among men who have sex with men; presumably a stigmatization associated with hMPXV-B1 (or whatever) must be thought less offensive than one linked with monkeypox, probably because  an alpha-numeric string is a step removed from any link with animals and thus the slur of bestiality.  In the 1980s, that was one of the complaints once it was revealed HIV/AIDS was probably a mutated monkey virus from Africa and, even in the pre-internet era, unsubstantiated theories soon circulated that the entry of the virus into the human system was linked to men having sex with monkeys, a slur on both African men and the gay community who at the point constituted the bulk of infections, almost all as a result of sexual contact.  The consensus now is that HIV/AIDS entered human circulation (perhaps even as long ago as the nineteenth century) because of blood-blood mixing while monkeys were being butchered as part of the bush-meat trade.  The monkeypox vector may have been the same.

Naming virus species is the responsibility of the International Committee on the Taxonomy of Viruses (ICTV) (the expert group which brought us COVID-19) but the WHO has decided to ask for the public’s help, announcing an “…open consultation for a new disease name for monkeypox.  Anyone wishing to propose new names can do so”.  A portal will soon be provided.

Ambrosia

Ambrosia (pronouced am-bro-zia)

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

(2) Something especially delicious to taste or smell.

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

(4) Alternative name for beebread.

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

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

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

Cupid, Psyche and the Nectar of the Gods

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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