that enchanted horn of Astolpho, that English duke in Ariosto, which never sounded but all his auditors were mad, and for fear ready to make away [with] themselves…They are a company of giddy-heads, afternoon men.’ This is the final part of the quotation given by Anthony Powell as the epigraph to his novel Afternoon Men (1931). He gives the source as Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy. The only other use found of the term ‘afternoon men’ is from the same work. In the introductory ‘Democritus to the Reader’, Burton has: ‘Beroaldus will have drunkards, afternoon men, and such as more than ordinarily delight in drink, to be mad.’
age See ACT YOUR.
age before beauty! A phrase used (like AFTER YOU…) when inviting another person to go through a door before you. In the famous story, Clare Boothe Luce said it to Dorothy Parker, ushering her ahead. Parker assented, saying, ‘Pearls before swine.’ Mrs Luce described this account as completely apocryphal in answer to a question from John Keats, Parker’s biographer, for his book You Might as Well Live (1970). The saying presumably originated when people first started worrying about the etiquette of going through doors. It does not occur in Jonathan Swift’s Polite Conversation (1738), as one might have expected. A variant reported from New Zealand (1987) is dirt before the broom, though Partridge/Catch Phrases has this as the response to ‘Age before beauty’ (which it describes as a ‘mock courtesy’). Other versions are dust before the broom (recorded in Dublin, 1948) and the dog follows its master. Whichever phrase is used, it usually precipitates a response. An exchange between two boozy buffoons at a pub door in Posy Simmonds’s cartoon strip in The Guardian (19 May 1985) included these phrases: ‘“Certainly! Dogs follow their master!” “Dirt before the broom!” “Shepherd before sheep!” “Shit before shovel!”’ Another phrase to offer in reply is: grace before meat!
(the) age of anxiety Label for the mid-20th century. It was the title of a long poem by W. H. Auden, written 1944–6 – an expression of loneliness in the midcentury. It was the inspiration of Leonard Bernstein’s second symphony (1947–9), which became known as ‘The Age of Anxiety’, and was used as the score for a ballet (US 1950), also with the title.
(the) age of Aquarius The astrological age, lasting two thousand years, which was said to be beginning in the 1960s (following the Piscean Age). ‘This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius,’ sang the cast of the ‘American tribal love-rock musical’ Hair (1968), in what was to become something of a hippy anthem. This new age held forth the promise of more liberal values, world freedom and brotherhood, as well as promoting general optimism.
(the) age of innocence The Age of Innocence was the title of a novel published in 1920 by the American writer Edith Wharton. In it, she looked back on the New York of her youth and told the story of a love affair frustrated by the morals of the time. Presumably, the description ‘age of innocence’ is ironically applied to this earlier period.
(an) age of kings An Age of Kings was the title of a fifteen-part fortnightly BBC TV serialization of Shakespeare’s history plays from Richard II to Richard III, transmitted live in 1960. The phrase does not appear to have been used before. TV parodist Alan Melville came up with a version entitled ‘An Eternity of Kings’.
(the) age of miracles is past As with (the) age of chivalry is past, this proverb is now used more often in the ironic negative, i.e. when saying ‘the age of miracles is not past’ or ‘the age of chivalry is not dead’ out of feigned gratitude for a stroke of good fortune or an unexpected courtesy. In its original positive form, ‘miracles’ was current by 1602. ‘The age of chivalry is gone’ occurs in Edmund Burke’s Reflections on the Revolution in France (1790). In about 1900, Oscar Wilde wrote in a letter: ‘[Frank Harris] keeps Bosie in order: clearly the age of miracles is not over.’ In Ira Gershwin’s lyric for the song ‘A Foggy Day (in London Town)’ (1937) are the lines: ‘I viewed the morning with alarm. / The British Museum had lost its charm. / How long, I wondered, could this thing last? / But the age of miracles hadn’t passed.’
(the) age of reason Label for the 18th century as a period when philosophy was a predominant force in Europe – hence also the name age of enlightenment. The Age of Reason was the title of Thomas Paine’s book (1793), an attack on Christianity and the Bible. English-born Paine went to America and encouraged the fight for independence.
(the) age of uncertainty Label for the second half of the 20th century. The Age of Uncertainty was the title given by J.K. Galbraith to his 1976 TV series (and accompanying book) on ‘the rise and crisis in industrial society seen in the light of economic factors’. It contrasted the great certainties in economic thought of the 19th century with the uncertainties of the second half of the 20th.
à go-go PHRASES Meaning, ‘in abundance’, ‘no end of’. Known by 1965. Possibly derived from ‘Whisky à go-go’ – a name given to night clubs all over France since the 1960s. Curiously, these take the name from the French title of the film Whisky Galore (UK 1948) – source Philip Kemp, Lethal Innocence: The Cinema of Alexander Mackendrick (1991). ‘This is really nothing but Leninism à go-go!’ – The New York Times (24 September 1966).
—agonistes PHRASES The title of John Milton’s poem Samson Agonistes (1671) refers to the biblical Samson coupled with the Greek word for ‘champion/combatant’. T. S. Eliot used the format for his own poetic drama Sweeney Agonistes (1932), where the proletarian hero is called Sweeney.
(an) agonizing reappraisal A process of reconsideration in politics, possibly before a decision is taken to make a U-turn. The reassessment of position has usually been forced on the reappraiser. The modern use stems from a speech that John Foster Dulles, US Secretary of State, made to the National Press Club, Washington DC, in December 1953: ‘When I was in Paris last week, I said that…the United States would have to undertake an agonizing reappraisal of basic foreign policy in relation to Europe.’ Further examples: ‘As in response to new directions from an agonising reappraisal in MCC’s room at lunch, the scoring spurted as Cowdrey twice swung Benaud to the leg fence’ – Star (9 December 1958); ‘The nation’s rogue elephants rampage, shattering complacency and compelling many to an agonizing reappraisal’ – Kenneth Gregory, The First Cuckoo (1978); ‘He forecast a period of agonizing reappraisal for Nato. The flexible response strategy was now clearly untenable for many reasons, so a new approach would be essential’ – The Times (27 June 1987).
(the) agony and the ecstasy Phrase for the supposed turmoil of artistic expression – a colourful coinage, now used only in mockery. The Agony and the Ecstasy is the title of a novel (1961; film US 1965) by Irving Stone, about Michelangelo and the painting of the Sistine Chapel. Compare what the novelist William Faulkner said in his speech accepting the Nobel Prize for Literature (10 December 1950): ‘[Whatever was] worth the agony and the sweat [was worth writing about].’
(an) agony aunt One who answers questions about personal problems posed by readers of a newspaper or magazine. Hence the term agony column, originally applied to what would now be called a ‘personal column’ in newspapers, containing messages for missing relatives (by the 1860s). From the 1930s onwards, the name has been given to the space in which ‘advice’ journalism appears. Neither phrase was in wide use until the 1970s, and neither is much used outside Britain. Sob sister is a similar term for one who allows readers to weep on his or her shoulder. Although the name may be of American invention, such an adviser has long been known in British women’s magazines, the subjects formerly being household management, etiquette and bringing up the family. Such columnists
