Rodomontade

Rodomontade (pronounced rod-uh-mon-teyd, rod-uh-mon-tahd, rod-uh-muhn-tadh or roh-duh-mon-teyd.

(1) Vainglorious boasting or bragging; pretentious, bluster.

(2) To boast; to brag.

1605–1615: From the Middle French rodomontade, the construct being the Italian Rodomonte (name of the boastful Saracen king of Algiers in the Italian Renaissance epic poems Orlando innamorato (1483-1495) and its sequel Orlando furioso (1516–1532)) + the Middle French –ade (the suffix used to form nouns denoting action, or a person performing said action), from the Occitan -ada, from the Latin -ata.  In dialectal Italian the name means literally “one who rolls (away) the mountain” (clipped also to “roll-mountain”).  As a verb in the sense of “boast, brag, talk big” it was in use by the 1680s and as early as the 1590s rodomont was used to mean “a braggart”.  Rodomontade is a noun, verb & adjective, rodomontador is a noun and rodomontaded, rodomontading are verbs; the noun plural is rodomontades.  The adjective rodomontadish has been used but is listed as non-standard.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December, 2011.

The epic poem Orlando innamorato (known in English also as “Orlando in Love) was written by the Italian Renaissance author Matteo Maria Boiardo (1440-1494 and published between 1483 (the first two books) and 1495 (third book, the three concurrently issued as a complete edition)).  The “sequel” was Orlando furioso (The Frenzy of Orlando) by Ludovico Ariosto (1474-1533) which appeared first in 1516, the complete work published in 1532.  It was a continuation of Boiardo's unfinished work and in its settings and characters shares some features with the eleventh century chanson de geste (literally “song of heroic deeds”, from the Latin gesta (deeds, actions accomplished)), a medieval narrative (usually in the form of an epic-length poem) which is among the earliest forms of French literature) La Chanson de Roland (The Song of Roland).  La Chanson de Roland was a chivalric romance and tells the tale of the death of Roland (circa 740-778), the Frankish military leader under Charlemagne (748–814; (retrospectively) the first Holy Roman Emperor 800-814).

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

It was never a common word bit now it’s vanishingly rare and appears usually only when referring to certain politicians.  In the nineteenth century the spelling “rhodomontade” was more common, reflecting the pronunciation then often used in English and dictionaries still list “rodomontade” & “rhodomontade” as acceptable spellings while noting the latter is archaic.   As a literary term it can be applied to a style which is inflated, bombastic and generally meretricious in its quest for the exotic.  In the poems, the Saracen king Rodomonte was a brave and honorable warrior but also bombastically boastful.  Of politicians described thus, there’s not of necessity any implication of honor, just the boasting and bluster, often in the most grandiloquent of terms.  The comparative is “more rodomontade”, the superlative “most rodomontade” and, as a modifier, it can be used in the form “rodomontade behaviour” although some suggest this is clumsy.

Donald Trump, mid-rodomontading.

Rodomontade would seem an ideal word to use in the era of Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021; president elect 2024) but, acquaintance with epic poetry of the Italian Renaissance being hardly mainstream, the utterances once so described will now be better understood as “Trumpisms”.  Mr Trump is certainly given to the rodomontadish and seems willing to concede that while George Washington (1732–1799; first president of the United States, 1789-1797) and Abraham Lincoln (1809–1865; US president 1861-1865) might have been his equals, he’s better than any of his other 43 predecessors.  His boasts have included:

“I am a genius and a very stable genius”.
“I would give myself an A+.”
“I did the biggest deal ever done in the history of our country yesterday in terms of trade — and probably other things too, if you think about it.”
“This is the biggest deal there is, anywhere in the world by far.’’
“I think we've done more than perhaps any president in the first 100 days.”
“My administration has accomplished more than virtually any administration in the history of our country”.
“I am one of the best presidents”.
“My presidency has been a tremendous success despite significant opposition and I have unparalleled achievement.”

Bloviate

Bloviate (pronounced bloh-vee-yet)

Pompously to speak or discourse at length in a boastful manner.

1857: A coining in US English, a construction in pseudo-Latin, based on deviate on the pattern of blow (in the senses of “a blowhard” (to boast)) + -ate.  Blow was from the Middle English blowen, from the Old English blāwan (to blow, breathe, inflate, sound), from the Proto-West Germanic blāan, from the Proto-Germanic blēaną (to blow) (linked to the modern German blähen), from the primitive Indo-European bhleh- (to swell, blow up) (linked to the Latin flō (to blow) and the Old Armenian բեղուն (bełun) (fertile).  The suffix -ate was a word-forming element used in forming nouns from Latin words ending in -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as estate, primate & senate).  Those that came to English via French often began with -at, but an -e was added in the fifteenth century or later to indicate the long vowel.  It can also mark adjectives formed from Latin perfect passive participle suffixes of first conjugation verbs -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as desolate, moderate & separate).  Again, often they were adopted in Middle English with an –at suffix, the -e appended after circa 1400; a doublet of –ee.

Bloviate was noted in the US in 1890 by a visiting English lexicographer who traced the origins to 1857 as a Midwestern (apparently in Ohio where it meant "to talk aimlessly and boastingly) word which gained the sense of “to indulge high falutin' language” when applied to politicians.  Bloviate was itself thus something of a bloviation because it was a way of saying “windbag” or “blowhard” with a Latin suffix lending a classical flavor.  It was apparently most used (at least in print; casual oral use would have been more prolific) of politicians (predictably fertile ground one suspects) but it faded from use by the early twentieth century, only to be revived during the administration of Warren Harding (1865–1923; US president 1921-1923) who quickly became notorious for his tangled, ornate and occasionally incomprehensible prose.  The biographical evidence suggests Harding reserved his bloviatory ways for his public persona, his language at the poker table as direct as is expected at such a place, something confirmed in the memoir of one of his many mistresses.  Harding of course is associated also with his alleged invention of “normalcy”, claimed to be a mistake during a speech laden with alliterative flourishes in which he said "not nostrums, but normalcy", the claim being he intended to use “normality”.

“America’s present need is not heroics, but healing; not nostrums, but normalcy; not revolution, but restoration; not agitation, but adjustment; not surgery, but serenity; not the dramatic, but the dispassionate; not experiment, but equipoise; not submergence in internationality, but sustainment in triumphant nationality.”

In saying "normalcy" he may have misspoken (ie a mistake rather than as a synonym for lie as crooked Hillary Clinton uses the word) or perhaps Harding liked the word; questioned afterwards he said he found it in a dictionary which probably was true although whether his discovery came before or after the speech wasn't explored.  Harding’s choice was much-derided at the time, normalcy had certainly existed since at least 1857, originally as a technical term from geometry meaning the "mathematical condition of being at right angles, state or fact of being normal in geometry" but subsequently it had appeared in print as a synonym of normality on several occasions.  Still, it was hardly in general use though Harding gave it a boost and it’s not since gone extinct, now with little complaint except from the linguistically fastidious.  Anyway, at the time it did him little harm.  The speech was delivered during the 1920 presidential election and Harding was elected in a landslide, the Republican ticket taking the Electoral College 404-127 with 60.4 against 34.1% of the popular vote.  In an example of how the electoral map has changed over a century, in 1920 the Democratic Party’s successes were almost exclusively south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

The political re-alignment in the US, 1920-2020; Democrats are blue, Republicans red.  

So electoral behavior in the US has changed in a century but the rhetorical habits of politicians probably haven't and bloviate made its second comeback in the 1990s.  Apparently the combination of the emergence of Newt Gingrich et al as neo-bloviators and the novel medium of the internet spread the word, giving it a niche, first on the bulletin boards and later on blogs, twitter and social media as technology unfolded, the 24/7 news cycle and the proliferation of political commentators meaning the ranks swelled.  In every electoral cycle since 1994, bloviators have been identified and shamed or celebrated as required.  Harding was at least self-aware, proud of his skill at “speaking as long as the occasion warrants and saying nothing” but still annoyed critics like the humorist HL Mencken (1880-1956) who dismissed the content of Harding’s English as a “loud burble of words fit only for morons and small-town yokels” although even he acknowledged the technique was so honed that “a sort of grandeur creeps into it.”

Noted bloviator Newt Gingrich (b 1943; speaker of the US House of Representatives 1995-1999 (right)) with Joe Biden (b1942; US president since 2021 (left)).  Biden now doesn’t so much bloviate as ramble and meander.

It was the idea of “fake grandeur” that saw Barack Obama (b 1961, US president 2009-2017) labeled a bloviator by some but that was as misleading as it was to call Donald Trump “the bloviating billionaire”.  Obama at his worst talked what Lord Beaverbrook (1879-1964) would have called “high falutin' nonsense” but was usually quite direct.  Trump too was direct and never tried, like George W Bush (b 1946; US president 2001-2009) or Sarah Palin (b 1964) to lend gravitas to the message with fancy (an in some cases invented) words in the manner of a Norman Mailer (1923-2007), William F Buckley (1925-2008), Gore Vidal (1925-2012), Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997), Conrad Black (b 1944), Christopher Hitchens (1949-2011) and David Foster Wallace (1962-2008), bloviators all.

Noted bloviators William F Buckley (left) and Gore Vidal (right) in one of their famous debates on the ABC network in 1968.

Conducted in the milieu that was the drama of the 1968 Republican and Democratic Party conventions, ABC envisaged it as an exchange between intellectuals of the right and left but what made it a ratings hit was Vidal calling Buckley a "crypto-Nazi" to which he responded, "Listen, you queer, stop calling me a crypto-Nazi or I'll sock you in your goddamn face and you'll stay plastered".  Overnight, it transformed the way the broadcast media covered politics in the US and it’s from this "debate" that the descent began towards ideological confrontation and partisan commentary.  In political science, there had long been the "politics as theatre" school of thought but it was from this debate that the packaging of politics as entertainment was allowed to evolve undisguised.

Trump is better thought of as a rodomont, the essence of rhodomontade being vain boasting, bragging and blustering without any suggestion of the use of obscure or big words; the undercurrent of everything Trump says is “I’m really rich” and that’s all that matters.  It dates from the 1610s (the earlier rodomontado noted in the 1590s), and was from the French rodomontade, a reference to the vain boasting of Rodomonte, a character who appears in two epic poems of the Italian Renaissance: Ludovico Ariosto's (1474–1533) Orlando Furioso (1516) and Matteo Maria Boiardo's (1440–1494) Orlando Innamorato (1483-1495).  In the dialectal Italian, the name translates literally as "one who rolls (away) the mountain" and it came by the 1680s to be used as a verb imparting the idea of “one who boasts, brags and talks big".

A noted rodomont with a noted bloviatrix: Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021) with crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947), 2016 presidential election debate.

A non standard variation is bloviatrix (literally “a woman who bloviates”) and now of course it would be less incorrect to call one a bloviator but it was always intended as a jocular coining.  The –trix suffix was from the primitive Indo-European -trih, from -tḗr and was cognate with the Sanskrit suffix -त्री (-trī) (as in जनित्री (janitrī) (mother) though most dictionaries now tag –trix as dated.  It was appended usually to create female agent nouns and for masculine agent nouns ending in -tor, the feminine equivalent ending in -trix was historically preferred (and etymologically consistent) but social forces now operate with some severity in English and the modern practice is to adopt either gender-neutral terms, even other feminine suffixes (-a, -ess, -ette & -ine) falling from favor.  It endures where the meaning conveyed is so specific that any substitution would be either misleading or just silly, dominatrix the most obvious example and it’s usually the case these derived terms were borrowed directly from Latin, rather than formed in English (where in recent centuries the creations tended variously to be jocular, poetic or derogatory).  The Latin forms were just part of the lexicon such as cantrīx (female singer), based on cantor (male singer), from canō (I sing), tōnstrīx (female barber) based on tōnsor (male barber), from tondeō (I shear, shave) & meretrīx (prostitute (literally “she who earns”), from mereō (I merit, deserve, earn).  The Latin suffix was picked up by other European languages including the Catalan -triu, the French –trice, the Italian –trice and the Portuguese & Spanish –triz.

Bloviate is also jocular slang in the engine-building community.  Because of the phonetic similarity to “blown V8” (ie a V8 engine with forced (super- or turbo-charged) induction), it’s used to refer to such machinery.  The comparative and superlative forms presumably are “very bloviated” & “most bloviated” respectively, based on the extent of atmospheric boost delivered.

A noted bloviate: Mopar Direct Connection 1500 HEMI Crate Engine (Part Number: DSR1500-DC) @ US$59,990.  The 1500 is “most bloviated”.

Dodge's Hellephants (as crate engines) are 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) V8s, based on the Gen III HEMI V8 in five versions ranging from 900 to 1500hp, all using DSR’s 3.0 litre (183 cubic inch) IHI supercharger and available with either cast-iron or aluminium blocks.  Not remotely lawful for use in the US in road-registered vehicles built after 1975, most are used in some form of competition and although such things are thought by many to be in their last days, the crate engines may remain available until (1) they’re outlawed, (2) demand falls to the point production is no longer viable or (3) pressure-groups force Chrysler to stop.  As recently as twenty-odd years ago, there was much nostalgia about "the way things used to be done" but, on any objective measure, the Hellephants are better than anything which came before.  Despite that, some things will always be cherished for the flaws and quirks which give them their character and for some, the old ways, while not better, will remain more enchanting.    

Soiree

Soiree (pronounced swah-rey)

(1) An evening party or social gathering.

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

1793: from the French soirée (evening activity), the construct being the tenth century Old French soir (evening; night (from the Latin adverb sērō (late; at a late hour) which originally was an ablative of sērus) from sērum (a late time), from sērus (late), from the primitive Indo-European se-ro- (a suffixed form of the root se- (long, late) and the source also of the Sanskrit sayam (in the evening), the Lithuanian sietuva (deep place in a river), the Old English sið (after), the German seit (since), the Gothic seiþus (late), the Middle Irish sith and the Middle Breton hir (long)) + -ée (from the Latin –āta (feminine of –ātus) (the –ate suffix in English).  In French, the feminine suffix –ée was joined to nouns to make nouns expressing the quantity contained in the original noun and thus also relations of times (journée, matinée, année et al) or objects produced.  There was also the nineteenth century swarry, a coining for jocular effect representing the English pronunciation.  The suffix -ate was a word-forming element used in forming nouns from Latin words ending in -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as estate, primate & senate).  Those that came to English via French often began with -at, but an -e was added in the fifteenth century or later to indicate the long vowel.  It can also mark adjectives formed from Latin perfect passive participle suffixes of first conjugation verbs -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as desolate, moderate & separate).  Again, often they were adopted in Middle English with an –at suffix, the -e appended after circa 1400; a doublet of –ee.  In German the spelling is Soirée (plural Soiréen), the synonym being Abendgesellschaft (party held in the evening).  In English, the French soirée is now listed by most sources as an alternative spelling (a la café & cafe).  Soiree is a noun; the noun plural is plural soirees.

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

The successful soiree

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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