noun
the science of viniculture.
Oenology “the science of viniculture” derives from Ancient Greek oînos “wine,” plus the suffix -logy, which derives from Ancient Greek lógos “word, saying” but is often used in English to denote a field of study. Oînos (earlier woinos) is a cognate of Latin vīnum “wine,” and as we learned about in the etymology for the recent Word of the Day violescent, oînos and vīnum belong to a small family of cognate pairs (along with íon/viola “violet” and elaíā/olīva “olive”) that demonstrate how Ancient Greek dropped its w sound (represented by the letter digamma) while Latin retained its v (pronounced as w). In the field of linguistics, one never knows how the presence of a sound in one language can hint at the loss of an entire letter in another language. Oenology was first recorded in English circa 1810.
The vineyards of Issoudun produce a wine which is drunk throughout the two departments, and which, if manufactured as Burgundy and Gascony manufacture theirs, would be one of the best wines in France. Alas, “to do as our fathers did,” with no innovations, is the law of the land. Accordingly, the vine-growers continue to leave the refuse of the grape in the juice during its fermentation, which makes the wine detestable, when it might be a source of ever-springing wealth, and an industry for the community. Thanks to the bitterness which the refuse infuses into the wine, and which, they say, lessens with age, a vintage will keep a century. This reason, given by the vine-grower in excuse for his obstinacy, is of sufficient importance to oenology to be made public here…
Wine science, or oenology, has three pillars–grape culture, wine production, and sensory analysis evaluation. It is also concerned with chemistry, biochemistry, microbiology, and large scale [sic] production of wine or engineering. Oenology is defined as the science of wine making, comprising the horticultural, biological, and food sciences, technological and engineering aspects of the process, as well as economics and marketing angles. Thus, it is a combination of several aspects of knowledge and is an interdisciplinary subject.
noun
one of two marks « or » used in French, Italian, and Russian printing to enclose quotations.
Guillemet “a mark used in French to enclose quotations” is a diminutive of the name Guillaume, the French cognate of William. As we learned in the etymology for the recent Word of the Day will-o’-the-wisp, William comes from a Germanic name roughly meaning “desired helmet.” Although guillemets first appeared in 1527, they may have been named after the French printer Guillaume Le Bé, who would have been a toddler in the late 1520s when guillemets emerged in print. When an item is named after its inventor, it is often called a namesake or an eponym, but in the case of the guillemet, which takes its name from someone incorrectly assumed to be its inventor, it is a misnomer “a misapplied or inappropriate name or designation.” Guillemet was first recorded in English in the early 20th century.
Togated “clad in a toga” comes by way of Latin togātus, of the same meaning, from toga, the one-piece robe-like garment that typifies the people of the Roman Empire. Toga belongs to a family of Latin words spelled variously as tect-, teg-, and tog- that all pertain to covering, such as through clothing or architecture. To see this family of words in action, compare integument, a technical term for the skin; protect, from Latin tegere (stem tect-) “to cover”; and even tile, derived by way of Old English from Latin tēgula “roof-tile.” As we learned from the recent Word of the Day cordiform, according to a rule known as Grimm’s law, Latin t often corresponds to English th, and if you want to find a cognate of togated in English, look no further than thatch “a material for covering roofs.” Togated was first recorded in English in the early 17th century.
As one becomes familiar, Ancient and Modern Rome, at first so painfully and discordantly jumbled together, are drawn apart to the mental vision. One sees where objects and limits anciently wore; the superstructures vanish, and you recognize the local habitation of so many thoughts. When this begins to happen, one feels first truly at ease in Rome. Then the old kings, the consuls and tribunes, the emperors, drunk with blood and gold, the warriors of eagle sight and remorseless beak, return for us, and the togated procession finds room to sweep across the scene; the seven hills tower, the innumerable temples glitter, and the Via Sacra swarms with triumphal life once more.
The native Romans, on the other hand, like the butterflies and grasshoppers, resigned themselves to the short, sharp misery which winter brings to a people whose arrangements are made almost exclusively with a view to summer .… They drew their old cloaks about them, nevertheless, and threw the corners over their shoulders, with the dignity of attitude and action that have come down to these modern citizens, as their sole inheritance from the togated nation. Somehow or other, they managed to keep up their poor, frost-bitten hearts against the pitiless atmosphere with a quiet and uncomplaining endurance.