Myriad

Myriad (pronounced mir-ee-uhd)

(1) Originally, ten thousand (10,000) (archaic).

(2) A very great, innumerable or indefinitely great number of something; having innumerable phases, aspects, variations, etc.

1545-1555: From the French myriade, from the Late Latin mȳriadem (accusative of mȳrias (genitive myriadis)), from the Ancient Greek μυριάς (muriás) and myrias (genitive myriados) (the number 10,000), from μυρίος (muríos (plural myrioi)) (numberless, innumerable, countless, infinite; boundless).  In Ancient Greek, myriad was “the biggest number able to be expressed in one word”.  The ultimate origin is unknown but there may be a link with the primitive Indo-European meue-, the source also of the Hittite muri- (cluster of grapes), the Latin muto (penis) and the Middle Irish moth (penis).  The cardinal (ten thousand) is myriad, the ordinal (ten-thousandth) is myriadth, the multiplier (tenthousandfold) is myriadfold and the collective is myriad.  Myriad is a noun and adjective, myriadisation is a noun, myriadth is an adjective, myriadfold is an adjective & adverb and myriadly is an adverb; the noun plural is myriads.

In a hangover from the medieval habit, in the sixteenth century myriad initially was used in accordance with the Greek and Etymology meaning (ten thousand (10,000)) but as early as the late 1500s was used to refer to “a countless number or multitude of whatever was being discussed” and thus assumed the meaning “lots of; really big number of”.  From at last the mid-eighteenth century, when modifying a plural noun, it predominantly meant great in number; innumerable, multitudinous” and that’s long been the default meaning and references the exact numeric origin (10,000) exist only to list the earlier sense as archaic or as a footnote explaining the use in some historic text.  The most pure of the style guides (the editors used to fighting losing battles) still note than when used as an adjective the word myriad requires neither an article before nor a preposition after.  The result of that strictness is that a phrase like “a myriad of stars” where “myriad” acts as part of a nominal (or noun) group is said to be tautological but so much has the pattern of use evolved that most probably would find the alternative, though elegant, somehow lacking. 

The still rare noun myriadisation (crowdfunding) was a creature of social media, the idea being attracting funding in small increments from many (maybe 10,000 or more) and the concept was one of the (many) reasons Barack Obama's (b 1961; US president 2009-2017) campaign in 2008 to secure the Democratic Party nomination for that year's US presidential election was better funded than that of crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013).  One topical variant was permyriad, the construct being per- + myriad.  The per- prefix was borrowed from Latin per-, from the Proto-Italic peri- and related to per (through).  As a word-forming element, it's now rare except in science where (1) its used to form nouns & adjectives denoting the maximum proportion of one element in a compound and (2) it was added to the name of an element in a polyatomic ion to denote the number of atoms of that element (usually four).  Historically, in verbs it (3) denoting the sense "through", (4) denoting the sense "thoroughly", (5) denoting the sense "to destruction" and (6) in adjectives and adverbs it denoted the sense of "extremely".  Permyriad means “One out of every ten thousand” (ie one percent of one percent), a concept which was discussed in the aftermath of the Global Financial Crisis (GFC 2008-2011) when the idea spread of “the one percent” as the section of the population which held a disproportionate and socially destructive of the world’s wealth and property.  The point was made that the extent of the distortion was better illustrated were the math done with the “one percent of the one percent” so the definition of permyriad was in the news although the word never staged much of a revival.

Myriad is often a word of choice when writers are searching for a fancy way to say “lots” and it’s over used.  It no longer is used to convey “10,000” or even a number close to that but it should evoke thoughts of a big number.  Synonyms for myriad in its modern sense include countless, endless, infinite & innumerable and (even in Los Angeles) rehab options may not be quite that plentiful.  A better fancy would have been plethora, the synonyms for which include excess, abundance, glut, surfeit, superfluity & slew.  It’s true plethora & myriad are often used interchangeably but they really are subtly different.  Plethora (the plural plethorae or plethoras) was from the Late Latin plēthōra, from the Ancient Greek πληθώρη (plēthṓrē) (fullness, satiety), the construct being πλήθω (plḗthō) (to be full) +‎ -η (-ē) (the nominal suffix).  It means “an excessive amount or number; an abundance”.  In use, plethora is usually followed by “of” except for the technical use in clinical medicine where it describes “an excess of blood in the skin, especially in the face and especially chronically”.

It’s probably not true that during Antiquity the Athenians never spoke of matters where values higher than 10,000 were discussed but they appear never to have created a single word descriptor of anything bigger.  The structural functionalists among linguistic anthropologists would find that unremarkable because in the society of the age, the need was so rare.  Doubtless, there would have been Greeks who speculated on the number grains of sand on the sea-shore or the stars in the night sky and their astronomers even attempted to estimate the distances to stars but these wouldn’t have been things often heard in everyday conversation and such calculations were expressed in equations.  The need for words came later and advances in the sciences including cosmology, particle physics and virology meant millions, billions, trillions and later multipliers became genuinely useful.  The standardization however didn’t happen until well into the twentieth century.  Until then, in British English a billion was a million millions (1,000,000,000,000), something then really of use only to cosmologists whereas in US use it was calculated as a thousand millions (1,000.000,000) and thus a word with some utility in public finance (although in Weimar Germany’s (1918-1933) period of hyper-inflation (1923) the UK’s definition could have been used of the Papiermarks).

50 trillion (50 Billionen, 5×10¹³) mark note, Weimar Germany, 1923.

Since then of course, because a billion dollars isn’t what it was, we now routinely hear of trillions (often in the form of public debt) while billionaires are the new eligible bachelors and divorcees.  For those dealing with things like atoms, neutrinos and such, there is a point (probably anything beyond a billion) where writing out all those zeros becomes either tedious or impractical so the words are useful.  For mathematicians, the numbers are expressed using exponents: In the expression xⁿ, x is the base and n the exponent; n is the power to which x is raised, thus the common expression "to the power of" so 10²=100 and 10³=1000.  Of course, numbers being infinite, even this convention can in theory become unmanageable, hence the attraction of something like 10^googol to represent a googolplex, a googol being 10¹⁰⁰.  If the need arises (say the discovery that the universe is much bigger than thought or Elon Musk gets really rich) words may make values easier for humans to follow than numerals.

Coriaceous

Coriaceous (pronounced kawr-ee-ey-shuhs, kohr-ee-ey-shuhs or kor-ee-ey-shuhs)

(1) Of or resembling leather.

(2) In botany, a surface (usually a leaf) distinguished having the visual characteristics of leather.

1665-1675: from Late Latin coriāceus (resembling leather in texture, toughness etc), the construct being corium (skin, hide, leather (and also used casually to refer to belts, whips and other leather items, and upper layers (ie analogous with a skin or hide) in general such as crusts, coatings, peels or shells)), from the Proto-Italic korjom, from the primitive Indo-European sker & ker- + -aceous.  The suffix –aceous was from the New Latin, from the Classical Latin -aceus (of a certain kind) and related to the Latin adjectival suffixes –ac & -ax.  It was used (1) to create words meaning “of, relating to, resembling or containing the thing suffixed” and (2) in scientific classification, to indicate membership of a taxonomic family or other group.  The comparative is more coriaceous and the superlative most coriaceous.  Coriaceous & subcoriaceous are adjectives and coriaceousness is a noun.

Botanists classify coriaceous leaves by degree.  The common greenbrier (Smilax rotundifolia) (left) is listed as subcoriaceous (ie somewhat or almost coriaceous) while the Shining Fetterbush (Lyonia lucida) is distinguished by glossy coriaceous leaves with a prominent vein along margins (right).

In late 1967, as a prelude to the next year’s introduction of the XJ6, Jaguar rationalized its saloon car line-up, pruning the long-running Mark II range from three to two, dropping the 3.8 litre model and re-designating the smaller-engined pair (the 2.4 becoming the 240, the 3.4 the 340), thus bringing the nomenclature into line with the recently released 420.  The standardization exercise extended to the big Mark X which became the 420G but curiously the S-Type’s name wasn’t changed and it became the only Jaguar in which the 3.8 litre engine remained available as a regular production option, the E-Type (XKE) having earlier adopted the 4.2.  So the 240, 340, S-Type (3.4 & 3.8) and 420 (all based on the 1959 Mark 2 (itself a update of the 1955 2.4)) all remained in production, along with the Daimler 250 (the re-named 2.5 fitted with Daimler’s 2.5 litre V8) and to add a further quirk, a dozen 340s were built to special order with the 3.8 liter engine.  Production of all ceased in 1968 with the coming of the XJ6 except the big 420G (which lasted until 1970 although sales had for some time slowed to a trickle), the 240 (available until 1969 because Jaguar wasn’t until then able to offer the 2.8 liter option in the XJ6) and the Daimler 250 (which also ran until 1969 until the Daimler Sovereign (an XJ6 with a Daimler badge) entered the showrooms).

1967 Jaguar Mark 2 3.8 with leather trim (left) and a "de-contented" 1968 Jaguar 240 with the "slimline" bumpers, Ambla trim and optional  rimbellishers (right).

Given the new revised naming convention wasn’t carried over the XJ6 (rendering the 420G an alpha-numeric orphan for the last year of its existence), there’s since been speculation about whether the Jaguar management had a change of mind about how the XJ6 was to be labeled or the changes were just an attempt to stimulate interest in the rather dated Mark 2 and its derivatives.  That certainly worked though perhaps not quite as Jaguar intended because Mark 2 sales spiked in 1968 and the oldest models (240 & 340) handsomely outsold both the newer 420 and the by then moribund S-Type.  Probably the change in name had little to do with this and more significant was the price cutting which made the 240 & 340 suddenly seem like bargains, the 240 especially.  Dated they might have looked in the year the NSU Ro80 debuted, but they still had their charm and the new price drew in buyers whereas the 420 suffered because it was known the XJ6 would soon be available and expectations were high.

The renewed interest in the 240 was at least partly because Jaguar had finally devoted some attention to the breathing of its smallest engine, straight-port heads and revised SU carburetors increasing the power to the point where a genuine 100 mph (160 km/h) could be attained, something not possible since the lighter 2.4 (retrospectively known as the Mark 1) ended production in 1959.  The 100 mph thing was something the factory was quite sensitive about because in the 1950s (when it was still quite an achievement) it had been a selling point and for most of the Mark 2’s life, Jaguar were reluctant to make 2.4s available for testing.  The 240’s new performance solved that problem and it was the biggest seller of the revised range (4446 240s vs 2800 340s) although those who read the small print might have been disappointed to note the fuel consumption; both models weighed about the same but the small engine had to work much harder, the 340 barely more thirsty.

1962 Jaguar Mark 2 3.8 with leather trim (left) and 1968 Jaguar 240 with Ambla trim.  It was only when the optional leather trim was specified that the fold-down "picnic tables" were fitted in the front seat-backs. 

The real thing: Lindsay Lohan in leather (albeit with faux fur sleeves).

Still, with the 240 selling in 1968 for only £20 more than the what a 2.4 had cost in 1955, it was soon tagged “the best Jaguar bargain of all time” but that had been achieved with some cost-cutting, some of the trademark interior wood trim deleted, the fog and spot lamps replaced by a pair of chromed grilles, the hubcap design simplified and “slimline” bumpers fitted in place of the substantial units in place since 1959, this not only saving weight but a remarkable amount of the cost of production.  The revised cars were not as generously equipped as before (although some of the “de-contenting” had been introduced late in Mark 2 production) but a long option list remained and on it were some items once fitted as standard, the list including a choice of five radio installations with or without rear parcel shelf-mounted speaker, a laminated windscreen, chromium-plated wheel rimbellishers for steel wheels, Ace Turbo wheel trims for steel wheels, a tow bar, a locking petrol filler cap, front seat belts, the choice of radial, town and country, or whitewall tyres, automatic transmission, overdrive (for the manual transmission), wire wheels, fast ratio steering box, a fire extinguisher, Powr-Lok differential, rear window demister, heavy-duty anti-roll bar, close-ratio gearbox, tinted glass, a driver’s wing mirror, childproof rear door locks, an integrated ignition & starter switch (steering column), reclining front seats, power-assisted steering & leather upholstery.

It was the moving of the leather trim to the option list which is said to have made the greatest contribution to the price cuts.  The replacement fabric was Ambla, one of a class of coriaceous materials which have come variously to be referred to as faux leather, pleather, vegan leather, Naugahyde, synthetic leather, artificial leather, fake leather & ersatz leather.  First manufactured in the US, most production now is done in China as well as upholstery, the fabric is use for just about anything which has ever been made in leather including clothing, footwear, gloves, hats, belts, watch bands, cases, handbags, sports items, firearm holsters, luggage and a myriad besides.  It does appear that as early as the fifteenth century, the Chinese were experimenting with ways synthetic leather could be manufactured but it doesn’t appear anything was ever produced at scale and it was only when petroleum-based plastics became available in the US in the late nineteenth century that it became viable to mass produce a viable alternative to leather.  Historically, most of the products were petroleum-based but vegetable-based alternatives are now attracting much interest as attention has focused on the environmental impact of the traditional petro-chemical based approach.

1967 Mercedes-Benz 250 SE with MB-Tex trim (left) and 1971 Mercedes-Benz 300 SEL 6.3 with leather trim.

One of the best known coriaceous materials in the 1960s and 1970s was MB-Tex, a vinyl used by Mercedes-Benz which by far was the synthetic which most closely resembled genuine leather.  That was something made easier by the Germans using a process which resulted in slightly thicker tanned hide than those from Italy, Spain or England and this meant that replicating the appearance was more easily attained.  What most distinguished MB-Tex however was the durability and longevity.  Unlike leather which demanded some care and attention to avoid wear and cracking, it wasn’t uncommon for 20 or 30 year old MB-Tex to look essentially as it did when new and many who sat in them for years may have assumed it really was leather.  It certainly took an expert eye to tell the difference although in a showroom, moving from one to another, although the visual perception might be much the same, the olfactory senses would quickly know which was which because nothing compares with the fragrance of a leather-trimmed interior.  For some, that seduction was enough to persuade although those who understood the attraction of the close to indestructible MB-Tex, there were aerosol cans of “leather smell”, each application said to last several weeks.

For the incomparable aroma of leather.

The factory continued to develop MB-Tex, another of its attractions being that unlike leather, it could be produced in just about any color although, now colors (except black, white and shades of grey) have more or less disappeared from interior schemes, that functionality is not the advantage it once was.  As a fabric though, it reached the point where Mercedes-Benz dropped the other choices and eventually offered only leather or a variety of flavors of MB-Tex.  That disappointed some who remembered the velour and corduroy fittings especially popular in the colder parts of Europe but the factory insisted MB-Tex was superior in every way.  Also lamented were the exquisite (though rarely ordered) mohair interiors available for the 600 Grosser (W100, 1963-1981).  Apparently, the factory would trim a 600 in MB-Tex upon request but nobody ever was that post modern and most buyers preferred the leather, however coriaceous might have been the alternative.

Svelte

Svelte (pronounced svelt or sfelt)

(1) Slender, especially gracefully slender in figure; lithe.

(2) Suave, urbane elegant, sophisticated.

1817: Originally (and briefly) spelled svelt, from the seventeen century French svelte (slim, slender), from the Italian svelto (slim, slender (originally "pulled out, lengthened)), past participle of svellere (to pluck out or root out), from the Vulgar Latin exvellere (exvellitus), the construct being from ex + vellere (to pluck, stretch) + -tus (the past participle suffix).  The ex- prefix was from the Middle English, from words borrowed from the Middle French, from the Latin ex (out of, from), from the primitive Indo-European eǵ- & eǵs- (out).  It was cognate with the Ancient Greek ἐξ (ex) (out of, from), the Transalpine Gaulish ex- (out), the Old Irish ess- (out), the Old Church Slavonic изъ (izŭ) (out) & the Russian из (iz) (from, out of).  The “x” in “ex-“, sometimes is elided before certain constants, reduced to e- (eg ejaculate).  The Latin vellere (which English picked up as a learned borrowing) was the present active infinitive of vellō (I pluck out; I depilate; I pull or tear down), from the Proto-Italic welnō, from the primitive Indo-European wel-no-, a suffixed form of uelh- (to strike), source also of the Hittite ualh- (to hit, strike) and the Greek aliskomai (to be caught).  The Latin suffix –tus was from the Proto-Italic -tos, from the primitive Indo-European -tós (the suffix creating verbal adjectives) and may be compared to the Proto-Slavic –tъ and Proto-Germanic –daz & -taz.  It was used to form the past participle of verbs and adjectives having the sense "provided with".  Latin scholars caution the correct use of the –tus suffix is technically demanding with a myriad of rules to be followed and, in use, even the pronunciation used in Ecclesiastical Latin could vary.  Svelte is an adjective and svelteness is a noun; the comparative is svelter and the superlative sveltest although in practice both are rare and constructions (however unhappy) such as very svelte, most svelte are more common.  Thankfully, sveltesque & sveltish seem not to exist and if they do, they shouldn’t.

Svelte: Lindsay Lohan, Olympus Fashion Week, Bryant Park, Manhattan, February 2006.

Because svelte is intended as a compliment to be extended in admiration, the true synonyms include refined, delicate, graceful, lithe, slender, lean, lissom, slinky, slim, elegant, willowy, waif & sylph-like.  Although can equally (and technically correctly) apply to the same image, words like thin, scrawny and skinny can be used with a negative connotation.  Interestingly, in some Nordic languages, the word has the sense of variations of “thin, hunger, starvation” and is used of a two player card game in which the goal is to "starve" the opponent of all their cards.  Svelte is a word usually applied to people, most often women; while men can be called svelte, most would probably prefer another label.  However, it’s a descriptor which references the slender and the elegant so can be used anthropomorphically and there have been cars which have gone from frumpy to svelte:

The Pontiac Grand Prix: The first generation (1962–1964) (left), the second generation (1965–1968) (centre) and the third generation (1969–1972) (right).

The first Pontiac Grand Prix was among the outstanding designs which emerged from the General Motors (GM) styling studios in the 1960s, truly the corporation's golden era.  The first was built on a full-sized platform and was thus undeniably large but such was the competence of the styling team that the bulk was well-disguised and unless the are other objects in the frame to provide a point of reference, at first glance the sheer size of the thing is not obvious.  Its rather bulbous replacement fares not so well but Pontiac were aware the universe was shifting, their own smaller GTO and the emerging ecosystem of pony cars attracting the buyers wanting high performance while the full-size machines were beginning their path towards increasingly cosseted luxury.  Other full-sized machines however looked better while doing what the Grand Prix did and sales of the second generation weren’t encouraging.  Pontiac changed tack for 1969 and in the third generation produced another classic, a smaller car which relied not on gimmicks or embellishments but simple lines, the long hood working because it was the sole extravagance and one perfectly balanced by what would otherwise have seemed an excessively large C pillar.  It was a high-water mark for Pontiac.

Continentals: the Mark II (1956-1957) (left) and the Lincolns, the Mark III-V (1958-1960) (centre) and the fourth generation (1961-1969) (right).

Wanting to create a landmark in style which was as much a reaction to the excesses of the era as it was a homage to mid-century modernism, Ford actually created a separate division to produce the Continental Mark II and in its very sparseness the look succeeded but the realities of production-line economics doomed the project which lasted only two years.  Seemingly having decided that good taste didn’t sell, the Continental nameplate returned to the Lincoln line in 1958 and the Mark III-V models were big, some 227 inches (5.8 m) in length and weighing in at 2 ½ tons (2540 kg) or more.  Indisputably flamboyant with an intricate grille atop chrome dagmars, canted headlights partially encapsulated in semi-closed ovoid apertures and embellished with chrome spears & sweeping cove embossments, the only restraint seemed to be the surprisingly demure fins but with those Ford never succumbed to the lure of the macropterous which made so distinctive the cars from Chrysler and GM during the era.  Even at the time criticized as too big, too heavy and too bloated, the styling nevertheless represented one of the (several) logical conclusions of the trends which had for a decade been evolving but it too was a failure, lasting only three seasons.  After this there was nowhere to go but somewhere else.  In 1961 Lincoln went there, creating a classic shape which would remain in production, substantially unchanged until 1969.  Remembered now for being the car in which President Kennedy was shot, for the suicide doors, and the soon to be unique four-door convertible coachwork, it was a masterpiece of modern industrial design which managed to combine severe lines without any harshness in the shape and was influential, other manufacturers essentially borrowing the motif although none did it better than the original.  Managing the almost impossible, to be big yet svelte, Lincoln in the six decades since produced nothing as good and much that was worse.

The Mark IX was the final iteration of a decade-long line (the Mark VII, VIII & IX, 1951-1961) with a competition history which belied the stately appearance (left) while the Jaguar Mark X (1961-1970 and named 420G after 1967) never realized its potential because the factory refused to fit the Daimler V8 and its own V12 wasn’t ready until after production ended (centre) and the XJ (1968-1986) which, especially when fitted with the V12, may have been the best car in the world (right).

Svelte can be a relative term.  Although the Jaguar Mark X was soon criticized as being too big and bloated, upon release in 1961 it was thought sleek and modern because the car it replaced was stylistically something of an upright relic with its lines so obviously owing much to the pre-war era.  That warmth of feeling soon passed and it was too big (especially the width) for the home market while in the US where it could have been a great success if fitted with a V8 and air-conditioning as good as a Cadillac, it was neglected because the superior quality of the brakes and suspension meant little under US conditions.  The styling however did however provide a model for the slimmed-down XJ, released to acclaim in 1968 and greater adulation still when the V12 arrived in 1972.  The svelte lines aged well, especially on the short-lived two-door, and looked elegant still in 1986 when replaced.  However, the shape meant the hunter became captured by the game, Jaguar reprising the lines until 2009 although none matched the purity of the original.  The 420G was the last of the "big" Jags.

Dodge Chargers: 1966 (left) and 1968 (right).

The 1966 Charger featured one of the best interiors of the era, including a full-length centre console and rear-seats with a thoughtful design which folded flat, providing a usefully large storage area.  The highlight however was probably the dashboard featuring Chrysler’s intriguing electroluminescent instruments which, rather than being lit with bulbs, deployed a phenomenon in which a material emits light in response to an electric field; the ethereal glow much admired.  Inside was however the best place to be because it meant one didn’t have to look at the thing; it was chunky and slab-sided and while it could be said another fastback of the time (the truly ghastly Rambler (later AMC) Marlin) was worse, that really was damming with faint praise.  Still, on the NASCAR ovals the shape proved surprisingly slippery and when paired with Chrysler’s Hemi V8, it proved a trophy winner.  The welcome restyle of 1968 was transformative and seldom has there been such an overnight improvement.  Ironically though, the svelte lines proved not especially aerodynamic and on the racetrack, the sleek-looking Charger suffered in a way its frumpy predecessor had not, the stylishly recessed grill and the tunnel-effect used around the rear window compromising the aerodynamics and therefore the speed.  It took Dodge two attempts to solve the problem: The Charger 500 flattened both the grill and the rear windows but the instability remained so engineers (conveniently available from Chrysler’s recently shuttered missile division) fashioned a radical nosecone and a high rear wing which served well for the two seasons the modifications were permitted to be homologated for use on the Dodge Daytona in competition.  Ford suffered a similar fate in 1970: the new Torino looked better but the 1969 shape proved more efficient so the racers stuck with last year’s model until a solution was found.

Gestapo

Gestapo (pronounced guh-stah-poh or guh-shtah-poh (German))

(1) A branch of German police under the Nazi regime (1933-1945) comprising various sections.

(2) A critical descriptor of any organ (usually) of a state which to some degree resembles Nazi Gestapo, especially in the brutal suppression of opposition (often initial lower-case).

(3) By extension, any oppressive force, group or tactic.

1933: An abbreviated form of the German Geheime Staatspolizei (the construct being Ge(heime) Sta(ats)po(lizei)); literally “secret state police”.  Gestapo is a proper noun.

A typically German abbreviation

It’s an urban myth that Hugo Boss designed the uniforms of the Gestapo.  The field officers of force didn't wear uniforms and in that sense operated in the manner of police detectives while some administrative (district) staff wore much the same garb as their SS equivalents.  When operating in occupied territories under wartime conditions, Gestapo wore the same field grey as the SS with a few detail differences in the insignia.  Hugo Boss was one of a number of companies contracted to produce the uniforms of the SS (Schutzstaffel (literally "protection squadron" but translated variously as "protection squad", "security section" etc)).  The SS began (under different names) in 1923 as a party organization with fewer than a dozen members and was the Führer's personal bodyguard.  The SS name was adopted in 1925 and during the Third Reich evolved into a vast economic, industrial and military apparatus more than two million strong to the point where some historians (and contemporaries) regarded it as a kind of "state within a state".  Of the SS, that's a more accurate description than of many of the apparatuses of the party and state but it was a feature of the Nazi period (not well-understood until after the war) that the internal dynamic was one of a permanent state of institutional struggle for dominance, reflecting Hitler's world view.  Post-war analysis by economists revealed the extent to which this system created structural inefficiencies.

The meme-makers found Hugo Boss's corporate history hard to resist.

The investigative & operational arms of Gestapo comprised the Sicherheitspolizei (SiPo; Security Police) and the Kriminalpolizei (Kripo; Criminal Police), the final structural shape achieved in 1936 when Heinrich Himmler (1900–1945; Reichsführer SS 1929-1945) was granted control of all police forces in Germany, this having the general effect of formalizing the all forces branches of the Himmler’ apparatus.  It was a reward for Himmler’s role in the Nacht der langen Messer (Night of the Long Knives), also called Unternehmen Kolbri (Operation Hummingbird), the bloody purge between 30 June-2 July 1934, when the regime carried out a number of extrajudicial executions, ostensibly to crush what was referred to as "the Röhm Putsch".  The administrative change was notable for marking the point at which control and enforcement of internal security passed from the state to the party, something reinforced in 1943 when Himmler was appointed Interior Minister.

The Gestapo was in 1946 declared a “criminal organization” by the international Military Tribunal (IMT) conducting the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946) and although the idea of an organization being criminal seemed novel to many, there were precedents.  Under the Raj, the British India Act (1836) provided that if a man was proved to be a member of the Thuggee (the Thugs, a group of professional robbers and murderers who strangled their victims), regardless of whether his conduct disclosed any actual offence, he might receive a life sentence with hard labor and in laws were passed in the US declaring the KKK (Ku Klux Klan) criminal, a model used in 1919 by the state of California to outlaw “criminal syndication”.  Under Soviet law, someone could even be deemed a member of some organization, even if they didn’t actually belong to it, something of a Stalinist companion the crime of “unspecified offences”.  Germany too had “a bit of previous” in the approach, the Weimar Republic (1918-1933) making it a crime to belong to any “anti-government secret organization”, in 1923 gazetting the Communist Party, the National Socialist Party (the Nazis) and the German People’s Freedom Party among the proscribed.

Remarkably (commented upon even at the time), the Orpo (Ordnungspolizei (Order Police, the “policemen” in the usual sense of the word)) and the Kripo weren’t included in the indictment on the basis they remain “civilian organizations”.  In the trial, the defense raised a number of technical points about the state of German law operative at the time the events being judged transpired and the court accepted some of these but anyway on 30 September 1946 ruled the Gestapo a criminal organization, thus implicating all members (excluding only some clerical & ancillary staff and those who had ceased to be employed prior to 1 December 1939.  In legal theory, this meant all operational SiPo staff active after 1 December 1939 could individually have been indicted in accordance with the available evidence and the expectation was that at least those most senior or accused of the more serious crimes would have faced trial.  However, there was no follow-up “Gestapo” trial, “punishment” limited to those Gestapo staff held in Allied internment camps, almost all of who were released after three years.  Although the Allied Control Commission (ACC) which administered occupied Germany allowed local courts to conduct trials, the number of Gestapo officers tried was comparatively low and even when convicted, the period spent in detention prior to trial was deducted from their sentence, a convention not extended to the seven sent to Spandau Prison after the main trial.  Only in first the Russian Zone (and later as the German Democratic Republic (GDR)) were many Gestapo officers charged and sentenced, almost all released after 1957.

For the majority, like many Germans they were subject to the “denazification” process, the prize of which was to gain a “Certificate of Exoneration”, a piece of paper which appealed to the famously sardonic Berlin sense of humor, soon dubbed the Persilschein (Percil Certificate), an allusion to the popular washing detergent which promised to make clothes “whiter than white”.  Most Gestapo staff received a Persilschein and many either resumed their employment in the new German state and ultimately were credited for pension purposes with their service during the Nazi years.

Politicians often reference the Nazis when attaching their opponents and "Gestapo" is a popular slur. 

Even before World War II (1939-1945) began, the word "Gestapo" had entered the English language as a synecdoche for “police state tactics” and it was in this sense Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) on 4 June 1945 used the word in a broadcast for the UK general election, warning a Labour government (“the socialists” as he called them) would inevitably create such an apparatus to enforce the myriad of regulations and controls they were proposing:

“….there can be no doubt that socialism is inseparably interwoven with totalitarianism and the abject worship of the state. …liberty, in all its forms is challenged by the fundamental conceptions of socialism. …there is to be one state to which all are to be obedient in every act of their lives. This state is to be the arch-employer, the arch-planner, the arch-administrator and ruler, and the arch-caucus boss.

A socialist state once thoroughly completed in all its details and aspects… could not afford opposition.  Socialism is, in its essence, an attack upon the right of the ordinary man or woman to breathe freely without having a harsh, clumsy tyrannical hand clapped across their mouths and nostrils.

But I will go farther.  I declare to you, from the bottom of my heart that no socialist system can be established without a political police.  Many of those who are advocating socialism or voting socialist today will be horrified at this idea. That is because they are short-sighted, that is because they do not see where their theories are leading them.

No socialist government conducting the entire life and industry of the country could afford to allow free, sharp, or violently-worded expressions of public discontent.  They would have to fall back on some form of Gestapo, no doubt very humanely directed in the first instance.  And this would nip opinion in the bud; it would stop criticism as it reared its head, and it would gather all the power to the supreme party and the party leaders, rising like stately pinnacles above their vast bureaucracies of civil servants, no longer servants and no longer civil.  And where would the ordinary simple folk — the common people, as they like to call them in America — where would they be, once this mighty organism had got them in its grip?”

Essex man: Clement Attlee at home, mowing the lawn, Stanmore, Essex 19 April 1945.

It was a controversial statement and even many of Churchill’s Conservative Party colleagues distanced themselves from the sentiments.  The man being accused of planning this police state was Clement Attlee (1883–1967; UK prime-minister 1945-1951) who had served as Churchill’s deputy in the National Government (1940-1945) and was one of history’s more improbable figures to be painted an incipient totalitarian.  The electorate wasn’t persuaded and in the 1945 election Labour won a huge majority of seats in what is described as a “landslide” although the numbers are distorted by the UK’s “first-past-the-post” system; Labour gathered well under half the votes cast but that pattern has subsequently been typical of UK elections and in 1951 the Conservatives actually returned to office despite Labour out-polling them.  Attlee had responded to Churchill’s speech the next day:

“The Prime Minister made much play last night with the rights of the individual and the dangers of people being ordered about by officials.  I entirely agree that people should have the greatest freedom compatible with the freedom of others.  There was a time when employers were free to work little children for sixteen hours a day.  I remember when employers were free to employ sweated women workers on finishing trousers at a penny halfpenny a pair.  There was a time when people were free to neglect sanitation so that thousands died of preventable diseases.  For years every attempt to remedy these crying evils was blocked by the same plea of freedom for the individual.  It was in fact freedom for the rich and slavery for the poor.  Make no mistake, it has only been through the power of the state, given to it by Parliament, that the general public has been protected against the greed of ruthless profit-makers and property owners. The Conservative Party remains as always a class party.  In twenty-three years in the House of Commons, I cannot recall more than half a dozen from the ranks of the wage earners.  It represents today, as in the past, the forces of property and privilege.  The Labour Party is, in fact, the one party which most nearly reflects in its representation and composition all the main streams which flow into the great river of our national life.”

Garland

Garland (pronounced gahr-luhnd)

(1) A wreath or festoon of flowers, leaves, or other material, worn for ornament or as an honor or hung on something as a decoration; an accolade or mark of honor.

(2) To crown, adorn or deck with such an object.

(3) A representation of such a wreath or festoon.

(4) In publishing, a collection of short literary pieces, as poems and ballads; a literary miscellany.

(5) In nautical use, a band, collar, or grommet or ring of rope lashed to a spar for convenience in handling.

(6) In admiralty jargon, a netted bag used by sailors to store provisions.

(7) In mining, a metal gutter installed around the inside of a mineshaft, to catch water running down inside the shaft and funnel it into a drainpipe.

1275–1325: From the Middle English gerlande, gerelande, garlande & garland (used to mean both "wreath of flowers" & "crown of gold or silver), from the Old French garlande, garlaunde, gerlande & guerlande (from which Modern French gained guirlande) from the Frankish wierlōn & wieralōn, a frequentative form of the Frankish wierōn (to adorn, bedeck), from wiera (a gold thread), akin to the Old High German wieren (to adorn) & wiara (gold thread).  The Frankish forms alluded to the notion of "an ornament of refined gold" (most likely "of twisted gold wire"), from the Proto-Germanic wira- & wera-, a suffixed form of the primitive Indo-European root wei- (to turn, twist).  Variations of garland exist in many Romanic languages including the Old Spanish guarlanda, the French guirlande, the Italian ghirlanda and the Portuguese grinalda.  The verb in the sense of "to make a garland" or "to crown with a garland" emerged in the late sixteenth century.  Garland & garlanding are nouns & verbs, garlanded is a verb & adjective, garlander is a noun and garlandless is an adjective; the noun plural is garlands.

Commitment issues: Hamlet and Ophelia by Agnes Pringle (1853-1934)

Flowers appealed to William Shakespeare (1564–1616) as a literary device because their myriad of attributes, color, shape, fragrance, thorns, fragility et al, offered so many metaphors for the human condition.  In the plays, over two-hundred species of plants are mentioned and thirty-odd scenes are set in gardens or orchids.  In Hamlet (Act IV, scene 5), there’s a harvest in Ophelia’s garland speech to her brother Laertes:

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.  And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.  There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you, and here's some for me; we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays.  O, you must wear your rue with a difference.  There's a daisy.  I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died. (Act IV, scene 5)

There were fantastic garlands did she come. Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies and long purples, that liberal shepherds give a grosser name, but our cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them. (Act IV, Scene 7)

There were fantastic garlands did she come, Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies and long purples. (Act IV, Scene 7)

Rosemary (Salvia rosmarinus or Rosmarinus officinalis (pre 2017)

Since Antiquity, rosemary has been associated with remembrance, Athenian students at study wore garlands of rosemary as a memory improvement tool.  The name is derived from the Latin rosmarinus (dew of the sea), a reference to its blue petals and habitat atop Mediterranean cliffs.  In Shakespeare's day, rosemary was in both the wedding bouquets carried by bridesmaids and the wreaths laid at funeral wreaths.  A contemporary poet, Robert Herrick (1591-1674) , wrote in a verse “Grow it for two ends, it matters not at all, Be it for my bridall or buriall."  In English folklore, a man who couldn't smell the fragrant shrub was thought incapable of loving a woman though in the same tradition, if rosemary was planted in front of a cottage, it was held to mean the woman was the head of the household.  That was one folk belief said to have caused the up-rooting of not a few plants.  Helpfully, it was said also to repel plague and witches while sleeping with a sprig beneath the pillow prevented nightmares.  But for Ophelia, distraught at her father's death and Hamlet's odd behavior, the mention of rosemary indicates to her brother and the Elizabethan audience her brittle feelings and lack of confidence: "Pray you, love, remember."

Daisy (Bellis perennis, bruisewort or woundwort)

The Daisy’s botanical name is friom the Latin bellis (pretty), the English from the Anglo Saxon daeges eage (day’s eye); poetically, that was because the petals open during the day and close at night.  Long associated with childhood and innocence, in Scotland and the north of England it’s known also as Bairnwort (bairn a dialectical word for child).  In Roman mythology, the daisy was the virginal nymph Belides who transformed herself into the flower to escape the sexual advances of the orchard god Vertumnus.  The flower was symbolic of the Greco-Roman goddesses Aphrodite and Venus as well as Freya, the Norse goddess of beauty and love for whom Friday is named. The legend is that daisies picked between noon and one can be dried and carried as a good luck charm and in English fields, to this day some children still make daisy chains although those who do grow up to become emos.  Unlike the other plants in Ophelia's garland, the daisy seems to possess only good connotations but Shakespeare has Ophelia announce the daisy but not hand it out, the implication being there’s no innocence or purity at court.

Pansy (Viola × wittrockiana)

The word pansy is from the French pensée (for thoughts), the botanical name tricolor a referece to the three main shades, white, purple and yellow, the heart shaped petals thought to help heal a broken heart, so it was known also as heartease.  Pansies, as Ophelia notes, are for thoughts and it was also used medicinally, a curative for cramps, hysteria and diarrhea in children.  In A Midsummer Night's Dream, the fairy King Oberon mixes a potion with the flower's juice: if dropped on the eyelids of a sleeper, it was said they would awake to fall in love with whatever they first see, hence the unfortunate Titania, Oberon's wife, falling in love with a donkey.

Fennel (Foeniculum vulgare)

Apparently, fennel is among the vegetables children most dislike.  Pre-dating Shakespeare, Fennel was long regarded as an emblem of false flattery, noted famously in Robert Greene’s (1558-1592) Quip for an Upstart Courtier (1592), the link apparently being the seeds popularity as an appetite suppressant to aid fasting pilgrims, thus becoming symbolic of things that appear to give sustenance but have none.  Empty flattery to hunger.  Shakespeare used fennel often, Falstaff mentioning it in Henry IV, Part 2 and for Ophelia, it’s an allusion to her sterile love affair with Hamlet.

Columbine (Aquilegia or granny's bonnet)

The Columbine, known also as granny’s bonnet, was a wild flower but its beauty made it a popular Elizabethan garden flower, the botanical name from the Latin aquila (eagle) because the petals were thought to resemble an eagle’s talons.  In a more gentle avian vein, the English is derived from the Latin columba (dove), a reference to its nectaries being vaguely reminiscent of the heads of doves.  To Shakespeare, the columbine had a number of symbolic associations.  The poet George Chapman (1559-1634) suggested it was emblematic of ingratitude and William Browne (1590–1645) declared it stood only for forsaken and neglected love for in England it also symbolized cuckoldom as the nectaries did look like horns.  More helpfully, as the "thankless flower", the seeds, if taken with wine, were said to induce labor.

Rue (Ruta graveolens or herb-of-grace)

By Shakespeare’s time, rue had been for centuries a symbol of sorrow and repentance and it’s a long, fabled history. Rue was the plant that King Mithridates VI of Pontus (135-16 BC) imbibed to protect himself against poisoning and the Greek physician Hippocrates (circa 460-circa 370 BC) recommended it to relieve rheumatic pains, heart palpitations and menopausal symptoms.  The herb's name is derived from the Greek ruta (repentance) and the Athenians used it while dining with foreigners to ward off evil demons, spells and spirits whereas in Ancient Rome it was said to improve eyesight.  Its other names, Herb o' Grace or Herb o' Sundays, refers to the sorrow and resulting grace one feels after true repentance and the suit of clubs in a deck of cards was modeled after rue's fleshy, oblong leaves.  It remains a call to regret and repent past evil deeds; due to its strong aromatic smell and bitter taste, the plant has long been symbolic of sorrow, regret and repentance, hence the expression “you’ll rue the day”.  In Elizabethan England (1558-1603), it was carried around as protection against plague and witchcraft and even as an insect repellent. When Ophelia hands it to Queen Gertrude in Hamlet, it is a subtle rebuke of her faithlessness.  In moderation, rue was used to hasten labor but in larger doses, was known to be an abortifacient, hence the speculation that when Ophelia utters the lines "there's rue for you, and here's some for me", it’s a confession of unwanted pregnancy and another reason for ending her life.

Violet (Viola)

Francis Bacon (1561-1626) in his essay Of Gardens (1625) wrote the violet was “that which above all others yields the sweetest smell” and they’ve always been prized too for their beauty.  Despite this, there’s the association with melancholy and early death, expressed in Hamlet when Ophelia laments she has no Violets to give to the court because “they withered when my father died” and it’s Laertes’ wish that violets “may spring” from Ophelia’s grave.  There’s a duality of meaning in Ophelia’s statement; she’s lamenting not only the death of her father the lack of faithfulness and fidelity in the court.

Lindsay Lohan in sheer black gown with embroidered garlands, Francesco Scognamiglio's (b 1975) spring 2015 collection, Naples, June 2015.