There’s a magic to twilight -- that time between day & night. I hope you’ll see a little magic in twilight’s roots. The word twilight appeared in English in the 1300s, a combination of the prefix twi- & the word light. Twi- meant two times (we see its cousin in the word twice). It would be reasonable to assume that, because twilight can refer not only to the time between day & night, but also the time between night & day, that twilight translates to twice-light, but research suggests that twilight originally meant something closer to half-light. Twilight’s Sanskrit relative is defined to mean a junction or holding together -- as though this half-light time somehow cements together moments that might otherwise fly apart. This might explain the old belief that twilight offers an opening between this world & the next. In the 1500s, the word crepusculine appeared, later to become our modern word, crepuscular. No one is certain which of crepuscular’s meanings came first: dusk, or obscure. Interestingly, the word’s Italian root is of uncertain origin — how perfect — a word meaning obscure has an obscure origin. An Old English word meaning the absence of light gave us the word dusk sometime around the year 1200. Originally, dusk was more of a color word than a-time-of-day word, but by the 1600s it began to refer that time we call twilight. About that same time dusk was born, the noun dawn was born, meaning first appearance of daylight in the morning. This noun came from the much older verb dauen (to become day), which, oddly, seems to have come from an even older noun, dauing (the period between darkness & sunrise). And the now-poetic term the gloaming, meaning twilight, was at one point just your basic Old English word referring to a time of day. Its root is the word glow & its ending appears to have been modeled after the word evening. May your twilights glow sweetly. Anything to say about all this? Let me know in the comments section. My thanks go out to this week’s sources: Merriam Webster, Kimberly Olson Fakih’s Off the Clock, Collins Dictionary, Wordnik, Ramya, & Etymonline.
2 Comments
Fiction is rife with minions. The word minion showed up in English about 1500 from a Middle French word meaning darling or favorite. Somehow on its way across the pond, a less favorable meaning emerged, so that minion in English originally meant one who pleases rather than benefits. Today it mostly means a fawning servant. Sometimes, we might refer to a minion as a sidekick, a word that showed up in American English in 1901 meaning a companion or close associate. Sidekick came from one of three words popular in the 1800s: side-kicker, side-pal, & side-partner. In the late 1700s, foot servants walked beside the noble’s coaches, on the coaches’ flanks. From flanks came flankers & flankies, and from flankies came the now-inglorious word flunkies. Born in Scotland, the word flunkies had no negative connotation until the mid-1800s (in writing, anyway), though the modern meaning flatterer or toady may have been associated with this word much earlier in common speech. Those flankers, flankies or flunkies who walked or ran abreast of the nobles’ coaches could also be called lackeys. Etymologists aren’t certain where lackey came from, but some possibilities include: -an Old Provencal word meaning covetous -an Old French word meaning the judge -an Old Spanish word meaning runner Today, lackey means a servile follower. The word toady appears to have come from the earlier form, toad-eater some time in the early 1800s. Two centuries earlier, a toad-eater was the unfortunate assistant of a charlatan, who was forced to eat a toad so his/her charlatan could access magical powers. Once the word was shortened to toady, the meaning generalized to fawning flatterer or servile parasite. In the 1600s the term footlicker was used to refer to a servile flatterer. By 1846, it grew into the term bootlicker. Which of the words above really resonate for you for a fawning servant? Please let me know in the comments section My thanks go out to this week’s sources: Merriam Webster, Collins Dictionary, Wordnik, & Etymonline. (image from clipartmag.com) Typically, here at Wordmonger, I ask you to peer into the history of a word, idioms based on it, its various meanings, or maybe the relationships between it and another word. This week, I hope you’ll consider the power of words artfully & meaningfully strung together. Following, you’ll find an excerpt of Langston Hughes’ poem, “Let America Be America Again”. Please humor me. Sit up straight. Take a big, calming breath, then read these two stanzas aloud. They deserve that. I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean-- Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years. Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That’s made America the land it has become. O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home-- For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore, And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came To build a “homeland of the free.” Interested in the rest of the poem? Check it out here. My thanks go out to this week’s sources: poets.org & Walter Lowenfels’ The Writing on the Wall: 108 American Poems of Protest Whisk broom. Kitchen whisk. Whiskers. Whiskey. All related? Not quite. It seems whisk’s initial foray into English happened in the 1300s. It came from an Old Norse word meaning a wisp of hay — something to sweep with — imagine a rustic whisk broom. The Old Norse word’s source (a Proto-Indo-European word meaning to turn or twist) is also the source of Sanskrit, Old English, German, Danish & Czech words meaning respectively, a noose, a brush, a broom, to clean, & a wisp of straw. Whisk’s initial foray into English involved no use of the letter H. The H appeared in whisk sometime in the 1570s. By the 1400s, whisk (at the time, wisk) could also be used as a verb, meaning to move with a rapid, sweeping motion. In the 1500s whisk/wisk picked up the meaning to brush or sweep lightly. Sometime around 1600, the similarity between a mustache and a broom or brush gave birth to the words whisker & whiskers. In time, whiskers generalized to mean any facial hair. The word whisk was also used in the 1600s to refer to a popular card game we now call whist. Though we’ve lost this particular meaning, back in the 1600s a woman’s neckerchief or scarf could be called a whisk. By 1660, whisk also meant an implement for beating eggs. In the 1800s, the word whisk could be used to denote a swarm of insects. A shame to have lost this one, I’d say. The apparently related words whisky & whiskey have no relationship at all to whisk & whisker. In the 1700s, folks speaking Gaelic enjoyed the water of life, which they called uisge beatha. In usage, that latter part of the term faded away, and uisge, Anglicized, became whiskey. Though many modern drinkers embrace the distinction between the two spellings — whiskey (distilled in Ireland) & whisky (distilled in Scotland) — the Scots originally spelled theirs the same as the Irish. Scotch whisky mysteriously lost its E sometime in the 1800s. If any of these caught you by surprise, please let me know in the comments section. My thanks go out to this week’s sources: Merriam Webster, the OED, Collins Dictionary, Wordnik, & Etymonline. The frog most readers probably imagine comes from an ancient word that — not surprisingly — meant to hop. This Proto-Indo-European root made its way into Russian, Sanskrit, Dutch, German, Old Norse, & Old English, & is now defined as an insect-eating anuran amphibian of the family Ranidae. But the word frog does not stop at amphibians. Like buttons, zippers, snaps, & Velcro, frogs can be used as garment closures (a decorative cord fastening). This meaning came about in the mid-late 1700s. It grew out of an earlier 1700s meaning, an attachment on a belt to hold the scabbard of a sword. No one is certain of the root of this meaning of frog. Florists use frogs in the bottom of vases to support plant stems in flower arrangements. This meaning most likely came from the similarity of the rounded backs of early plant-stem-holders to the rounded backs of insect-eating anuran amphibians. The bit of a violin bow the violin player grips is also called a frog (the jury is out regarding this meaning’s origin). And the word frog has been used as a slur against French people, due to an English stereotype regarding people’s diets in France. And then there are frog youth: Starting in the 1870s, a small child might have been referred to as a tad. Etymologists are moderately sure tad was a shortened form of tadpole, which was born of the word tadde, an alternate form of toad. Toad came to English in the 1300s from nobody-knows-where, & was added to the Middle German word poll, meaning head. It wasn’t until 1915 that tad began to mean a small bit. Polliwog, another term for frog youth, showed up in the 1400s from a word meaning wiggle added to poll-, that German word for head that also appears in the word tadpole. Frogs do appear to hop rampant, eh? My thanks go out to this week’s sources: Merriam Webster, Collins Dictionary, Wordnik, & Etymonline. Some words do a lot of work. Fair is one such word. One sort of fair appears to have come from a Proto-Indo-European word that meant to make pretty. It moved from there through Germanic languages to land in Old English with three different meanings: -morally good (when applied to people or policies) -pleasing to the sight (when applied to people, places, & objects), & -bright, clear, & not rainy (when applied to the weather). By 1200, the prejudices of the day contributed to another meaning — light of complexion, eyes, or hair. About the same time, fair added the meaning according to propriety or justice. By the 1300s, fair added the meaning equitable, free of bias, or impartial. By the late 1300s, fair picked up three more meanings: -promising or auspicious, -of considerable size, & -(when applied to wind) favorable for a ship’s passage. Along the way, fair spawned some idioms: fair play — 1590s the fair sex — 1660s fair weather friends — 1736 fair game — 1776 fair ball & fair catch — 1856 fair haired (meaning favorite or darling) — 1909 AND there’s another fair that came through Old French & Vulgar Latin from Latin. This fair means a celebration or trade opportunity & the place where the celebration or trading occurs. There’s a whole lot of fairing going on. Any thoughts? Please use the comment section. My thanks go out to this week’s sources: Merriam Webster, Collins Dictionary, Wordnik, & Etymonline. Sometime around the year 1200, Norse speakers generously gave English speakers the word bull. Since then, bull has had a wild ride. That original bull meant male bovine. Its Norse source may have come from a Proto-Germanic word meaning to roar. Some etymologists argue that the word boulder may have come from this same source, because water in a river roars over the boulders. Hmmm. Other etymologists argue that bull’s Norse source came from a Proto-Indo-European word meaning to blow or swell. That same Proto-Indo-European source meaning to blow or swell gave us the bull in Papal bull. It appears the Pope’s new policies (or clarifications of old policies) were documents sealed with wax, & the wax appeared to be a swelling on the paper of the document, & voila — a bull! By 1610 or so, the original meaning of bull expanded, applying not only to male bovine, but to male alligators, elephants, & whales. In 1711 anyone boldly grappling with a difficult situation could be said to be taking the bull by the horns. By 1714 bull could be used to refer to an upward trend in the stock market. In the early 1800s, a popular song introduced the idiom bull in a china shop to refer to someone recklessly using force in a delicate situation. By 1859 a policeman could be pejoratively referred to as a bull. There are three potential sources for the bull that means insincere or deceptive talk. Yes, indeed, it may be a shortening of the crass word bullsh**, however, some records suggest its use preceded its crasser comrade. Bull’s other possible sources include an Icelandic word meaning nonsense, an Old French word meaning deception or trick, & a Middle English word meaning false or fraudulent talk. If any of the latter three are the true source, then the four-letter word bull likely gave birth to the cruder eight-letter term bullsh**. The word bulldoze was born during one of America’s uglier times. In the late 1800s a bulldose was a severe beating or lashing -- a dose strong enough to subdue a bull. These lashings weren’t being administered to bulls, but to humans, specifically, Black citizens trying to exercise their right to vote (specifically granted by the 15th amendment in 1870). By the 1880s, bulldose/bulldoze came to also mean to intimidate by violence. It wasn’t until 1942 that an earth-moving piece of heavy equipment was called a bulldozer. Any thoughts on all this bull? Leave a note in the comments section. My thanks go out to this week’s sources: Merriam Webster, Collins Dictionary, Wordnik, & Etymonline. Hoosegow. Slammer. Clink. Cooler. What’s up with all these synonyms for jail? The word jail comes from a Medieval Latin word for cage which was born of an earlier Latin word for hollow place or cavity. The noun form of jail showed up in English in the 1300s through a dialect of Northern France. The verb form didn’t show until the 1600s. The term cooler began to mean jail in 1884. Its source word, cooler, showed up only ten years earlier, meaning a vessel in which liquids or other things are set to cool. Slammer appeared in 1952, from the idea of the jail door slamming shut. Its source, slam, probably came from a Scandinavian source, & appeared in English in the 1670s meaning a severe blow. The word prison has been with us since the 1100s and came from Latin through Vulgar Latin & French. The original Latin term, prehensionem, meant a taking. The verb clink has been with us since the early 1300s — it’s thought to be an imitative word — imitative of the sound made by links of chain abrading one another. Though Southwark London’s infamous prison, the Clynke on Clink Street, was commissioned in 1144, the noun use of clink didn’t get generalized to mean jail until the 1770s. The Mexican/Spanish word juzgao, meaning tribunal or court, gave us the Englishword hoosegow in 1911. Juzgao is one of many offspring of the Latin word iudicare, which meant to judge. Though joint didn’t officially mean jail until 1953, etymologists are pretty sure this meaning came from an older meaning of joint popular in the early 1400s, when joint meant building or establishment where shady activities take place. In the 1700s the word brigantine was born to refer to two-masted schooners. Sailors quickly shortened the word to brig. About a century later, when many older brigs had been retired & deemed prison ships, the word brig took on new meaning. Did any of these etymologies startle you? If so, please let me know in the comment section. My thanks go out to this week’s sources: Merriam Webster, Collins Dictionary, Wordnik, The Clink Prison, & Etymonline. I hope you’ll enjoy these Arabic idioms. one hand doesn’t clap = if this is to work, all parties must cooperate cut from the tree = a person who has no family movement is a blessing = exercise is good son of Adam = respectable person this is my measuring bucket, not yours = mind your own business the carpenter’s door is loose = the shoemaker’s children are shoeless you came & God brought you = you came at just the right time the eye doesn’t go higher than the brow = a person can’t rise above his/her given status it takes the mind = it inspires awe I have no camel in the caravan = this matter doesn’t concern me the belly-dancer dies, but her waist still moves = habits are difficult to break call the one-eyed man one-eyed = speak straight to eat one’s head = to be overly insistent he ate a wooden wedge = someone talked badly about him the latest bunch of grapes = the most recently born & therefore favored child Enjoying idioms? Check out these related posts: Japanese idioms Swedish idioms Portuguese idioms Fish idioms Walking idioms Dog idioms Skin idioms And if you’re inspired, feel free to leave a comment. I love hearing from you. My thanks go out to this week’s sources: Omniglot, Matador Network, EnglishIdiomsAndExpressions, Hussein Maxos, & Barakabits. From Swedish to Japanese, & now to Portuguese idioms — thanks for joining me on Wordmonger’s World Idiom Tour. I hope you enjoy the poetic imagery in these idioms. Donkeys’ voices don’t reach the heavens = you’re saying something stupid Break all the dishes = cause problems There’s no beauty without an if = there’s no such thing as perfection Many years turning chickens = much experience Take your little horse away from the rain = give up He’s like a racing mackerel = he’s too big for his britches Monkeys bit me = I am intrigued To do something so the English can see it = to show off Swallow frogs = shut up & listen Under the banana tree shade = no worries It’s the color of a donkey on the run = it’s color is difficult to describe To speak by the elbows = to be a motor mouth Bread to bread & cheese to cheese = easy as pie To have a flea behind one’s ear = to feel suspicious He’s got a head of rotten garlic = he is foolish or forgetful From very small, the cucumber is bent = character traits are acquired at an early age This is too much sand for my truck = I’m in over my head My thanks go out to this week’s sources: Omniglot, Matador Network, tagide.com, &Twisted Sifter. |
I write for teens & tweens, bake bread, play music, and ponder the wonder of words in a foggy little town on California's central coast.
To receive weekly reminders of new Wordmonger posts, click on "Contact" & send me your email address. Archives
November 2023
|