Sometimes when you encounter something for the first time, you end up seeing it again frequently. When we lived in Chicago and Dovie was pregnant for the first time it seemed that every fourth woman in Chicago was pregnant, too.
So it is with the first of today's words. I ran across it for the first time several months ago (in another of those Winston Churchill novels mentioned last Sunday) and have since seen it at least twice in magazine articles. The word is concatenation, and its first use (for me) was in describing a 21-gun salute. In my mind it was similar to concussionation (my created word - you won't find it in the dictionary) because of the image, but the subsequent uses have clarified a greater meaning. Concatenation is a noun, and is something linked together in a series, particularly with a common cause or dependency. It comes from the Latin word for chain, catena, with the prefix com, together. I find it interesting that the word came into use in English in about 1600 in both its noun and verb forms, but etymologists don't find the adjectival use for another 11 years, and it wasn't until 1872 that the word concatenating was used.
Concomitant refers usually to a pair of things where one condition, circumstance, or thing accompanies another. It can be either causally related or associated in existence in some other manner, but there is a relationship between the two. Concomitant comes from Latin (through Late Latin then Middle Latin according to my dictionary; etymonline.com says it comes through the French in 1607) from connecting the word comitari, which means to accompany, with com (like con-catenation) which means together. So the literal translation is to accompany together. Comitari comes from comes (I couldn't resist) which means companion. So there is a close relationship between the things described as concomitant.
Attendant can be a synonym for concomitant, but there is in its general use a sense of being along side of that doesn't exist in concomitant. With its connection to the word attend (from the Old French atendre, which means to wait or expect, which came from the Latin attendere that means to stretch toward and give heed to) it originally meant to accompany in a dependent position. Its use goes back to the 1550s. Attendant is the word in today's blog with the least causal relationship.
Consequent is the word with the strongest causal relationship. The sequi root comes from Latin, and means follow. Again we have the com, but this time it has the meaning "with". It came to English even earlier, in the late 14th century. When anything follows as a result, it is consequent. The word has since developed different meanings in Logic and Mathmatics.
Then there is subsequent. Sub being the Latin word for “under, closely, or up to,” a subsequent item would be any that comes under something else on a list, or closely in time. There is no connotation of cause or connection other than in time.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Good words for bad things
This past week started with pulchritude, moved into pleasure, and today will get into some words for more base desires.But before we do, let’s put all these pleasures into perspective.
Pulchritude is physical beauty (like my wife has). A voluptuarian is devoted to luxurious and sensual living, and is not necessarily a negative term. A Sybarite enjoys luxurious and self-indulgent living, and has negative connotations. A hedonist just does whatever feels good, and has the most negative meaning of any of the words of this past week. Epicureans have a philosophical perspective on the different qualities of pleasure. Epicures enjoy good food, and while the term is not meant to have a sense of snobbiness those who consider themselves to be epicures probably eat and drink alongside snobs. They would maintain that they don’t care what’s “considered” good by those with class and standing, only what “is” good, whether “in” or not.
The next three words descend a little further into the hedonistic area.
Salacious is an adjective that comes from the Latin word salax, which is a form of the word salire, which means to leap. It likely comes from the animal act of procreation, when a male animal will leap to engage the female in sexual intercourse. It has been used in English since 1661, being adapted from the 1605 form of the word salacity. Salacity has fallen into disuse, but the same root word has given us the word salient, which should have been part of the blog of 2/15 but wasn’t; stay tuned. Regardless of the way in which it came to mean what it does, it means lecherous or pornographic, erotically stimulating. But where lecherous is directed usually at one individual, salacious is a more general term.
Concupiscence comes from the Latin word cupiscere, which means to wish or desire. Adding the con- to the front intensifies the meaning. It passed through Low Latin and Old French and Middle English to now mean a strong or abnormal desire or appetite, particularly sexual in nature. The few uses of this word which I have encountered use concupiscence almost as a clinical term, but that could just be because the books I read are not magazines with centerfolds (which probably wouldn’t use the word anyway.) The key word in the definition of concupiscence is abnormal.
Callipygian is a word I stumbled across, and don’t remember where; it comes from two Greek words: kallos means beauty and pyge refers to the buttocks. Yes, there actually is a word for beautiful butt. It has no negative connotation, but its use in other than a plastic surgeon’s office could have negative consequences.
We all have desires (well, most of us do – I’m not naming names), but it is when the desires becomes excessive (particularly in the sexual arena) that it becomes concupiscence. Salacious adds a negative sense to normal sexual desire. And, for the record, I’m a “leg” man, not a callipygian; I haven’t found the word for that yet.
Pulchritude is physical beauty (like my wife has). A voluptuarian is devoted to luxurious and sensual living, and is not necessarily a negative term. A Sybarite enjoys luxurious and self-indulgent living, and has negative connotations. A hedonist just does whatever feels good, and has the most negative meaning of any of the words of this past week. Epicureans have a philosophical perspective on the different qualities of pleasure. Epicures enjoy good food, and while the term is not meant to have a sense of snobbiness those who consider themselves to be epicures probably eat and drink alongside snobs. They would maintain that they don’t care what’s “considered” good by those with class and standing, only what “is” good, whether “in” or not.
The next three words descend a little further into the hedonistic area.
Salacious is an adjective that comes from the Latin word salax, which is a form of the word salire, which means to leap. It likely comes from the animal act of procreation, when a male animal will leap to engage the female in sexual intercourse. It has been used in English since 1661, being adapted from the 1605 form of the word salacity. Salacity has fallen into disuse, but the same root word has given us the word salient, which should have been part of the blog of 2/15 but wasn’t; stay tuned. Regardless of the way in which it came to mean what it does, it means lecherous or pornographic, erotically stimulating. But where lecherous is directed usually at one individual, salacious is a more general term.
Concupiscence comes from the Latin word cupiscere, which means to wish or desire. Adding the con- to the front intensifies the meaning. It passed through Low Latin and Old French and Middle English to now mean a strong or abnormal desire or appetite, particularly sexual in nature. The few uses of this word which I have encountered use concupiscence almost as a clinical term, but that could just be because the books I read are not magazines with centerfolds (which probably wouldn’t use the word anyway.) The key word in the definition of concupiscence is abnormal.
Callipygian is a word I stumbled across, and don’t remember where; it comes from two Greek words: kallos means beauty and pyge refers to the buttocks. Yes, there actually is a word for beautiful butt. It has no negative connotation, but its use in other than a plastic surgeon’s office could have negative consequences.
We all have desires (well, most of us do – I’m not naming names), but it is when the desires becomes excessive (particularly in the sexual arena) that it becomes concupiscence. Salacious adds a negative sense to normal sexual desire. And, for the record, I’m a “leg” man, not a callipygian; I haven’t found the word for that yet.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
What's Your Pleasure?
I was reading the American Churchill’s historical novel set in St. Louis in the Civil War when I came across the word voluptuarian. It is the adjectival form of the word voluptuary and comes from the Latin word voluptuosus, which means pleasure. The same Latin word in another form is where we get the word voluptuous, a word that refers to something (usually someone) that causes sensual pleasure. Voluptuary refers to someone who is devoted to luxurious living and sensual pleasures. The word wastrel comes to mind with this word (and the Biblical story of the Prodigal Son). But the difference between wastral (a diminutive form of the word waster, my dictionary says) and voluptuary is that a voluptuary may not be a waster. My dictionary lists the synonym for voluptuarian as Sybarite, but I would use the word hedonist before thinking of either Sybarite or voluptuary. What’s the difference?
Sybarite is a very interesting noun. It is a reference to the people of ancient Sybaris, in southern Italy (at the front of the instep of the boot). Sybaris became very wealthy and its inhabitants developed a great enjoyment of luxury. According to Athenaeus they passed laws to forbid noisy arts, like blacksmithing and carpentry, so that their sleep would be undisturbed. For the same reason they outlawed roosters in the city. They were the first to bring chamberpots and women to their banquets, the first to minimize the disruption to the feast, the second to add enjoyment. Sybarite (a proper noun, so always capitalized) now means anyone fond of luxury and self-indulgence.
Hedonist is a word (from the Greek word hedone that means delight) that describes a person who lives by the philosophy that the happiness of the individual or society is the chief aim of action. We would say “if it feels good, do it.” This lacks the sense of luxury that Sybarites have and the sensuality of voluptuarians.
The difference between hedonists and Epicureans is not easy to explain. According to www.peacegames.com/Consensus/morality.html the difference is in the qualification of pleasure. Hedonists don’t see one pleasure as being more desirous than another. Epicureans view pleasures as having different qualities; the highest pleasure, according to Wikipedia, “obtained by knowledge, friendship, and living a temperate and virtuous life.” Epicurus advocated abstaining from bodily desires, including sex and eating richly. Epicureanism is a form of Hedonism, at least in philosophy. In current practice and definition they are much different. Epicureanism still retains the sense of pleasure, but with higher standards than hedonism.
While Epicureanism is a proper noun, epicurism is not. Epicureans became associated with an appreciation of high-quality living, including food; so much so, that the word epicure has come to mean a person who has discriminating taste in food and drink. And while the Epicurean would abstain from eating richly, the epicure doesn’t. And with that confusion, a secondary definition for Epicurean is now “suited to or characteristic of an epicure”.
More pleasure to come Sunday.
Sybarite is a very interesting noun. It is a reference to the people of ancient Sybaris, in southern Italy (at the front of the instep of the boot). Sybaris became very wealthy and its inhabitants developed a great enjoyment of luxury. According to Athenaeus they passed laws to forbid noisy arts, like blacksmithing and carpentry, so that their sleep would be undisturbed. For the same reason they outlawed roosters in the city. They were the first to bring chamberpots and women to their banquets, the first to minimize the disruption to the feast, the second to add enjoyment. Sybarite (a proper noun, so always capitalized) now means anyone fond of luxury and self-indulgence.
Hedonist is a word (from the Greek word hedone that means delight) that describes a person who lives by the philosophy that the happiness of the individual or society is the chief aim of action. We would say “if it feels good, do it.” This lacks the sense of luxury that Sybarites have and the sensuality of voluptuarians.
The difference between hedonists and Epicureans is not easy to explain. According to www.peacegames.com/Consensus/morality.html the difference is in the qualification of pleasure. Hedonists don’t see one pleasure as being more desirous than another. Epicureans view pleasures as having different qualities; the highest pleasure, according to Wikipedia, “obtained by knowledge, friendship, and living a temperate and virtuous life.” Epicurus advocated abstaining from bodily desires, including sex and eating richly. Epicureanism is a form of Hedonism, at least in philosophy. In current practice and definition they are much different. Epicureanism still retains the sense of pleasure, but with higher standards than hedonism.
While Epicureanism is a proper noun, epicurism is not. Epicureans became associated with an appreciation of high-quality living, including food; so much so, that the word epicure has come to mean a person who has discriminating taste in food and drink. And while the Epicurean would abstain from eating richly, the epicure doesn’t. And with that confusion, a secondary definition for Epicurean is now “suited to or characteristic of an epicure”.
More pleasure to come Sunday.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
That's the Beauty of It
I had conversation this week with a friend of mine about how I find the words about which I blog. I know where I came up with three of this week’s words, the first of which goes back to 7th Grade when I was flunking Latin.
A Latin teacher was telling us that we can remember Latin easier if we find English words that come from the Latin words we’re trying to learn. The teacher mentioned that we get the word pulchritude from the Latin word pulchra. (In looking up the word pulchritude in the dictionary I came across another word that will find its way into this blog: puissant. It’s not what you may think from the look of it.) Pulchritude comes through Middle English from the Latin word for beautiful, the base word for which is pulcher. A form of the Latin word that comes closest to our spelling is pulchritudo. The word now refers to any physical beauty. The teacher mentioned that if you want to tell a girl she’s beautiful (and I was one of those 7th graders who was still figuring out how to interact with girls) use the word pulchritude.
It was shortly after the aforementioned Latin lesson that I was part of a youth group who were reading a portion of the Easter story. The boy next to me was a shy boy, and he had a longer portion of the story. He asked if I would trade portions with him, which I did. But in his portion was a word I had never seen: sepulcher. I reasoned that it was so similar in spelling to the Latin that I confidently pronounced it with the emphasis on the second syllable. One listener had to stifle her laughter at my unique pronunciation as the word appeared several times in my reading. For some reason, I have since heard it pronounced more with the l and u reversed than correctly (sep-luh-ker, the opposite of the way Bush the younger pronounced nuclear: noo-cyoo-ler.)
Sepulcher comes from Latin through the Old French sepulcre and Middle English. The original Latin word means to bury, giving us the current meaning of a burial vault, tomb or grave.
The third word today comes from a book I read written by Winston Churchill. I purchased the book either at an antique shop or thrift store. It turns out the author was born in St. Louis four years prior to the birth of the British Winston Churchill. Because of the popularity of his historical novels, the American Winston was better known in the 1890s. In correspondence between the two the British Winston suggested he would always use the name Winston S. Churchill when he wrote. (The S is for one of his surnames, Spencer; yes, the same Spencer family as Princess Diana’s, though not direct.)
But you’ll have to wait until Wednesday to find out the word itself. I’m out of space.
A Latin teacher was telling us that we can remember Latin easier if we find English words that come from the Latin words we’re trying to learn. The teacher mentioned that we get the word pulchritude from the Latin word pulchra. (In looking up the word pulchritude in the dictionary I came across another word that will find its way into this blog: puissant. It’s not what you may think from the look of it.) Pulchritude comes through Middle English from the Latin word for beautiful, the base word for which is pulcher. A form of the Latin word that comes closest to our spelling is pulchritudo. The word now refers to any physical beauty. The teacher mentioned that if you want to tell a girl she’s beautiful (and I was one of those 7th graders who was still figuring out how to interact with girls) use the word pulchritude.
It was shortly after the aforementioned Latin lesson that I was part of a youth group who were reading a portion of the Easter story. The boy next to me was a shy boy, and he had a longer portion of the story. He asked if I would trade portions with him, which I did. But in his portion was a word I had never seen: sepulcher. I reasoned that it was so similar in spelling to the Latin that I confidently pronounced it with the emphasis on the second syllable. One listener had to stifle her laughter at my unique pronunciation as the word appeared several times in my reading. For some reason, I have since heard it pronounced more with the l and u reversed than correctly (sep-luh-ker, the opposite of the way Bush the younger pronounced nuclear: noo-cyoo-ler.)
Sepulcher comes from Latin through the Old French sepulcre and Middle English. The original Latin word means to bury, giving us the current meaning of a burial vault, tomb or grave.
The third word today comes from a book I read written by Winston Churchill. I purchased the book either at an antique shop or thrift store. It turns out the author was born in St. Louis four years prior to the birth of the British Winston Churchill. Because of the popularity of his historical novels, the American Winston was better known in the 1890s. In correspondence between the two the British Winston suggested he would always use the name Winston S. Churchill when he wrote. (The S is for one of his surnames, Spencer; yes, the same Spencer family as Princess Diana’s, though not direct.)
But you’ll have to wait until Wednesday to find out the word itself. I’m out of space.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Transmuters - more than meets the eye
I used the word transmuted in my last post. I probably could have used the word transformed, but transmuted seemed a little more accurate in describing a change from one spelling to another then back again. Transmute comes from the Latin word transmutare through the Middle English transmuten. Transmutare comes from the Latin words trans (meaning over or across) and mutare (meaning to change). Mutare is the root for our word mutate. Because transmutation is more commonly used than transmute, the verb form is sometimes wrongly backformed from transmutation to transmutate, but the word is transmute.
Transmute means to change from one form to another. My dictionary says from one form, species, nature, substance, or condition to another. How’s that different from transform? Tranform is more about outward appearance than form or substance or species. (Sherlock Holmes was “transformed” into various characters, only to be returned to himself later.) There is in transmute that sense of mutation of form that transform doesn’t have. The Transformers could be said to transmute as much as transform, although their change was temporary, as was Sherlock’s.
Sometimes a transformation can be a metamorphosis, and metamorphoses are always transformations. Metamorphosis comes originally from two Greek words (meta, meaning over, and morphe, meaning form). It refers to a complete physical change from one form to another (again, the dictionary uses a list: “form, shape, structure, or substance”). Metamorphoses are more and sudden than transmutations, and have less of a randomness to them. They are more complete and permanent than transformations. (Franz Kafka’s character in “The Metamorphosis” wakes up and is surprised to find himself a cockroach. We never read that he returns to be a person.)
Transmogrified, on the other hand, is more sinister. We know that trans means over or across. What is mogrify? There is no such word as mogrify. In fact, there is no such word as transmogrify, at least in an etymological sense. According to my dictionary, transmogrify is “a humorous pseudo-Latin formation”. Etymologists aren’t reknowned for their sense of humor. The web site etymonline.com says that it comes from 1656 and is a perversion of transmigure, from transmigrate influenced by modify. So maybe it should be transmodifigried, not transmogrified. At any rate it has come to mean a change completely, especially in a grotesque or strange manner (think trans-ogre-fy.) So when Dr. Bruce Banner changes into the incredible Hulk he is transmogrifying. He may also be transmuting, and transforming, but the best word is transmogrify. Now you know.
Transmute means to change from one form to another. My dictionary says from one form, species, nature, substance, or condition to another. How’s that different from transform? Tranform is more about outward appearance than form or substance or species. (Sherlock Holmes was “transformed” into various characters, only to be returned to himself later.) There is in transmute that sense of mutation of form that transform doesn’t have. The Transformers could be said to transmute as much as transform, although their change was temporary, as was Sherlock’s.
Sometimes a transformation can be a metamorphosis, and metamorphoses are always transformations. Metamorphosis comes originally from two Greek words (meta, meaning over, and morphe, meaning form). It refers to a complete physical change from one form to another (again, the dictionary uses a list: “form, shape, structure, or substance”). Metamorphoses are more and sudden than transmutations, and have less of a randomness to them. They are more complete and permanent than transformations. (Franz Kafka’s character in “The Metamorphosis” wakes up and is surprised to find himself a cockroach. We never read that he returns to be a person.)
Transmogrified, on the other hand, is more sinister. We know that trans means over or across. What is mogrify? There is no such word as mogrify. In fact, there is no such word as transmogrify, at least in an etymological sense. According to my dictionary, transmogrify is “a humorous pseudo-Latin formation”. Etymologists aren’t reknowned for their sense of humor. The web site etymonline.com says that it comes from 1656 and is a perversion of transmigure, from transmigrate influenced by modify. So maybe it should be transmodifigried, not transmogrified. At any rate it has come to mean a change completely, especially in a grotesque or strange manner (think trans-ogre-fy.) So when Dr. Bruce Banner changes into the incredible Hulk he is transmogrifying. He may also be transmuting, and transforming, but the best word is transmogrify. Now you know.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Over the River and through the Alley
Purlieu (it sounds like purview, but means something entirely different) is a word with an interesting origin. In English it originally meant the areas on the perimeter of the forest that were exempted from forest laws and owned by private individuals. It is now used more often to refer to a place a person visits often or regularly. Colloquially we might call it a haunt.
Purlieu comes from the Anglo-French "puralee" (an nobody doesn't love puralee) which comes from the Old French word spelled the same way but with an accent, so why bother? The Old French word comes from puraler, which meant "to go through". Apparently when you went to the forest you would hit the puraler first, then the forest. Sometimes you can't see the forest for the puraler. It's pretty easy to see how puraler could derive from the Latin words per- (through) and aler (to go). There is another word we get from aler: alley; except that the definition of alley says that it comes from the Latin word ambulare, which means to walk and from which we also get ambulance even though ambulances have almost nothing to do with walking. (Go figure.) The explanation is that aler is a contraction of ambulare, although I couldn't (another contraction) contract ambulare into aler. But then I'm not French or Latin.
A similar word that refers to something that is regular or daily is quotidian. Its qu becomes a "c" when it went through Middle English, at which time the word was cotidian. The Middle English, as they often did, got the word from French, which got the word from Latin. The most direct Latin word is quotidianus, which is a form of quotidie, which means daily. So while the spelling has transmuted (coming Wednesday to a blog near you) the meaning has not.
One interesting (to me at least) sidelight: quotidie comes from quot, which means "as many as" and idie, which means "day". From quot we get quote and quotient, even though they're very different meanings from each other and from quotidian. Sometimes where you end up isn't where you think you're going.
I mentioned purview earlier. It comes from the Middle English word purvue which comes from the Anglo-French legals term purveu est which means "it is provided" or purveu que "provided that". The Old French word purveu is where the phrases originally came from. There is no older root, which means it's the most recent root word today, dating to only about 1275.
Purview still retains a legal meaning, indicating the legal scope of a bill or law. It has expanded its meaning to include any scope or range of control. So if I say it's out of my purview, that means it's out of my range or scope of my control. I could control it if allowed, but my authority doesn't extend that far. My purview's only as far as the purlieu, at least on a quotidian basis.
Purlieu comes from the Anglo-French "puralee" (an nobody doesn't love puralee) which comes from the Old French word spelled the same way but with an accent, so why bother? The Old French word comes from puraler, which meant "to go through". Apparently when you went to the forest you would hit the puraler first, then the forest. Sometimes you can't see the forest for the puraler. It's pretty easy to see how puraler could derive from the Latin words per- (through) and aler (to go). There is another word we get from aler: alley; except that the definition of alley says that it comes from the Latin word ambulare, which means to walk and from which we also get ambulance even though ambulances have almost nothing to do with walking. (Go figure.) The explanation is that aler is a contraction of ambulare, although I couldn't (another contraction) contract ambulare into aler. But then I'm not French or Latin.
A similar word that refers to something that is regular or daily is quotidian. Its qu becomes a "c" when it went through Middle English, at which time the word was cotidian. The Middle English, as they often did, got the word from French, which got the word from Latin. The most direct Latin word is quotidianus, which is a form of quotidie, which means daily. So while the spelling has transmuted (coming Wednesday to a blog near you) the meaning has not.
One interesting (to me at least) sidelight: quotidie comes from quot, which means "as many as" and idie, which means "day". From quot we get quote and quotient, even though they're very different meanings from each other and from quotidian. Sometimes where you end up isn't where you think you're going.
I mentioned purview earlier. It comes from the Middle English word purvue which comes from the Anglo-French legals term purveu est which means "it is provided" or purveu que "provided that". The Old French word purveu is where the phrases originally came from. There is no older root, which means it's the most recent root word today, dating to only about 1275.
Purview still retains a legal meaning, indicating the legal scope of a bill or law. It has expanded its meaning to include any scope or range of control. So if I say it's out of my purview, that means it's out of my range or scope of my control. I could control it if allowed, but my authority doesn't extend that far. My purview's only as far as the purlieu, at least on a quotidian basis.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
What's In a Name, Part 2
Part 1 was Sunday, and for those who get the blog via email something went wrong. You'll have to get on the blog to see about eponym, pseudonym, and titular. We must move on.
What are those words for “pen name” mentioned in the previous blog? Technically, though rarely used, the word allonym is the best word for an author who uses another name. Mark Twain is one example, as is George Eliot, the pseudonym used by Mary Anne Evans, who felt that using a man’s name would ensure that her writings would be taken more seriously. If you want to find out about other –nym words (it doesn’t make you a nimrod) you can go to http://www.fun-with-words.com/nym_words.html
The more common phrase for “pen name” is nom de plume. It is a French phrase meaning writing name (from the time when quills were the most common writing instrument). It literally means “name of pen”. Its first use was in 1823, though the practice is much older. It was even later that the similar phrase “nom de theatre” came into use (1874). We more commonly use stage name when referring to information such as that Elton John is the stage name for Reginald Dwight.
The earliest “nom de…” phrase we still use is nom de guerre, which dates to 1679, and refers to a name taken in war. There are many reasons for adopting a nom de guerre, and they continue to be used in modern times. Perhaps you were unaware that Lenin and Stalin in Russia and Golda Meir and Moshe Dayan in Israel were all noms de guerre eventually adopted after the revolutionary struggle ended.
The final word in this category is sobriquet, and it is the one with the most disagreement regarding its etymology. It means nickname. For instance, while Larry is a nickname for Lawrence, in my case it is my given name, not a sobriquet. However, the Pete Rose memorabilia in my office is autographed to me in my nickname, “Hoss”.
In the lack of any clear etymology, my dictionary merely suggests it is French. Etymonline.com suggests a commonly referenced derivation from the French soubriquet, which literally means “chuck under the chin”. Wikipedia suggests another option: that it comes from sot (foolish) and briquette, a French adaptation of the Italian brichetto, which means knave. Again, why a foolish knave might come to mean nickname is not explained.
Sobriquet has a meaning beyond what I refer to above as nickname. It also includes names that don’t necessarily shorten a name but instead identify a characteristic of the person. Sports seem to abound with sobriquets. Baseball saw the Babe, the Splendid Splinter, Dizzy and Daffy Dean, the Iron Horse, and even Charley Hustle, the sobriquet for the aforementioned Pete Rose. Basketball had Pistol Pete and Magic, soccer had Pele and football had Broadway Joe. Politics had Old Hickory, Old Kinderhook , and Honest Abe.
So what’s in a name? Plenty, whether false, nick, pen, or title.
What are those words for “pen name” mentioned in the previous blog? Technically, though rarely used, the word allonym is the best word for an author who uses another name. Mark Twain is one example, as is George Eliot, the pseudonym used by Mary Anne Evans, who felt that using a man’s name would ensure that her writings would be taken more seriously. If you want to find out about other –nym words (it doesn’t make you a nimrod) you can go to http://www.fun-with-words.com/nym_words.html
The more common phrase for “pen name” is nom de plume. It is a French phrase meaning writing name (from the time when quills were the most common writing instrument). It literally means “name of pen”. Its first use was in 1823, though the practice is much older. It was even later that the similar phrase “nom de theatre” came into use (1874). We more commonly use stage name when referring to information such as that Elton John is the stage name for Reginald Dwight.
The earliest “nom de…” phrase we still use is nom de guerre, which dates to 1679, and refers to a name taken in war. There are many reasons for adopting a nom de guerre, and they continue to be used in modern times. Perhaps you were unaware that Lenin and Stalin in Russia and Golda Meir and Moshe Dayan in Israel were all noms de guerre eventually adopted after the revolutionary struggle ended.
The final word in this category is sobriquet, and it is the one with the most disagreement regarding its etymology. It means nickname. For instance, while Larry is a nickname for Lawrence, in my case it is my given name, not a sobriquet. However, the Pete Rose memorabilia in my office is autographed to me in my nickname, “Hoss”.
In the lack of any clear etymology, my dictionary merely suggests it is French. Etymonline.com suggests a commonly referenced derivation from the French soubriquet, which literally means “chuck under the chin”. Wikipedia suggests another option: that it comes from sot (foolish) and briquette, a French adaptation of the Italian brichetto, which means knave. Again, why a foolish knave might come to mean nickname is not explained.
Sobriquet has a meaning beyond what I refer to above as nickname. It also includes names that don’t necessarily shorten a name but instead identify a characteristic of the person. Sports seem to abound with sobriquets. Baseball saw the Babe, the Splendid Splinter, Dizzy and Daffy Dean, the Iron Horse, and even Charley Hustle, the sobriquet for the aforementioned Pete Rose. Basketball had Pistol Pete and Magic, soccer had Pele and football had Broadway Joe. Politics had Old Hickory, Old Kinderhook , and Honest Abe.
So what’s in a name? Plenty, whether false, nick, pen, or title.
What's In a Name, Part 1
“What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” I could have looked it up, but that quote or something close to it comes from the mouth of Juliet as she pines on her balcony and bemoans the feud between the Montagues and the Capulets. Juliet was from whichever family Romeo wasn’t, and loving someone with the wrong name was dangerous, as they would come to find out. (As I said, I could have looked it up, but it’s not really researching words.)
Names and naming things have spawned many words, like eponym and titular, pseudonym, nom de plume and nom de guerre, and sobriquet. We will discuss a few more words for names, like alias and allonym and nom de theatre, but those are just diversionary to our main subject: words for names. (By the way, if you’re looking for a good web site about the etymology of names, try www.behindthename.com.)
I was putting together a powerpoint presentation for my Rotary club’s auction this coming Tuesday, and in putting together the description for one item I wanted to use the word eponymous. Ever-conscious of losing people with when using obscure words, I decided that there would be enough people in Rotary who would be familiar with it that I kept eponym on the slide. We’ll see if it even gets noticed.
The most interesting thing to me about the word eponym is how recent was its entry into English: 1846, according to etymonline.com. It is a pretty straight path from the Greek word eponomous, which comes from epi- (upon) and onyma (name). The word now means to name something after a person (real or fictional). Not always do they need to bear the person’s name (like many airports do: O’Hare, Reagan, Dulles, and Bush come to mind). Modesto is named for an early power broker, a San Francisco banker named William Ralston who was involved in building the Central Pacific Railroad through Modesto. When it was suggested the site be named after Ralston he modestly declined. It was stilled named after him, but described the nature of his response to the eponymous offer: Modesto.
Titular also comes pretty directly to English, but from the Latin word titulus, which means title. When the title of a book or movie is the name of a character (e.g., Huckleberry Finn, David Copperfield), the character is known as the titular character. But it can also refer to a title that is bestowed but without much authority, as if to say “in title only”. Some would put some Kings and Queens in this category.
Pseudonym uses the same base word as eponym, onyma. But the pseudo- refers to the Greek word pseudes, which means false. It is commonly used of a name an author uses in place of their own name, but there are two good words (actually, one word and one phrase) for an author’s “pen name.” Pseudonym is appropriately used as a synonym (there’s that –nym again) for alias, which comes from the Latin word alius (other) with the meaning of “at another time”. Alias now has a connotation of criminality that pseudonym doesn’t always have.
Names and naming things have spawned many words, like eponym and titular, pseudonym, nom de plume and nom de guerre, and sobriquet. We will discuss a few more words for names, like alias and allonym and nom de theatre, but those are just diversionary to our main subject: words for names. (By the way, if you’re looking for a good web site about the etymology of names, try www.behindthename.com.)
I was putting together a powerpoint presentation for my Rotary club’s auction this coming Tuesday, and in putting together the description for one item I wanted to use the word eponymous. Ever-conscious of losing people with when using obscure words, I decided that there would be enough people in Rotary who would be familiar with it that I kept eponym on the slide. We’ll see if it even gets noticed.
The most interesting thing to me about the word eponym is how recent was its entry into English: 1846, according to etymonline.com. It is a pretty straight path from the Greek word eponomous, which comes from epi- (upon) and onyma (name). The word now means to name something after a person (real or fictional). Not always do they need to bear the person’s name (like many airports do: O’Hare, Reagan, Dulles, and Bush come to mind). Modesto is named for an early power broker, a San Francisco banker named William Ralston who was involved in building the Central Pacific Railroad through Modesto. When it was suggested the site be named after Ralston he modestly declined. It was stilled named after him, but described the nature of his response to the eponymous offer: Modesto.
Titular also comes pretty directly to English, but from the Latin word titulus, which means title. When the title of a book or movie is the name of a character (e.g., Huckleberry Finn, David Copperfield), the character is known as the titular character. But it can also refer to a title that is bestowed but without much authority, as if to say “in title only”. Some would put some Kings and Queens in this category.
Pseudonym uses the same base word as eponym, onyma. But the pseudo- refers to the Greek word pseudes, which means false. It is commonly used of a name an author uses in place of their own name, but there are two good words (actually, one word and one phrase) for an author’s “pen name.” Pseudonym is appropriately used as a synonym (there’s that –nym again) for alias, which comes from the Latin word alius (other) with the meaning of “at another time”. Alias now has a connotation of criminality that pseudonym doesn’t always have.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Playing Loose and Pulling Wool - Part 2
A week ago I mentioned "there is more than one way to shade the truth. And more words about it (the next blog on this subject with focus on words ending in -y rather than -ate)". These words have greater meaning or import than just falsehood. For the most part, today's words aren't just meant to hide the truth, they're also meant to cause hurt or harm. (The exception is mendacity, but it fits in the "y" theme.)
Calumny is a false or misleading statement meant to hurt someone. (That's also what's known as a political campaign.) It comes from the Latin word calumnia, which means trickery, slander. Why not use slander or libel? Several reasons: 1. slander is a spoken statement intended to hurt, libel is written, calumny could be either, and 2. slander and libel are accepted legal terms, calumny is not.
Since I mentioned slander and libel, let me say (like you can stop me) that their etymology is more interesting than any of our other words today. Slander has a long path to English, coming from the Middle English sclaunder, which came from the Anglo-French esclaundre (the Old French word on which it was based is either esclandre or esclandle) which came from the Ecclesiastic Late Latin word scandalum, from which we get scandal.
Libel was a Middle English word meaning "little book", and came through Old French (libelle)from the Latin word libellus, which also means "little book." How did it come to mean something that is a false and malicious written statement? Perhaps its use in Admiralty and Ecclesiastical Law, where it was used to refer to bringing suit against by presenting a written statement of grievances is responsible. At any rate, by the 1300s it came to refer to a plaintiff's statement of charges.
Mendacity is the quality of being untrue, lying or false. It also comes from a Latin word (mendax - lying, deceitful) which is related to the Latin word menda (fault, defect) that comes from an Indo-European base (mend-) which means a flaw or shortcoming. Mend is the base word for the Latin word emendare, from which we get the word emend, which is the word for making a correction to a text. Mendacity is something that is wrong, has a flaw, and needs correcting. It still retains some uncertainty whether the untruth was intentional or not. It is a relatively late addition to the English language, coming in the 1600s.
Perfidy is not about kindness. The word comes through the Middle French from the Latin phrase per fidia, which is a short form of per fidem decipere that means "to deceive through faith". It's only a decade older than the word mendacity, having entered English in the 1590s. Perfidy, when used most accurately, describes when someone breaks a trust or deliberately breaks faith with someone. It is treachery with an element of deception (which is why I include it in this subject.)
So before using calumny, perfidy, slander, or libel, make sure you're ready to back up your contention, perhaps even in court. And for goodness sake, don't engage in any of these things; instead, if I can quote Michael Jackson (and why not? It may be my only chance in a blog on words) "heal the world, make it a better place."
Calumny is a false or misleading statement meant to hurt someone. (That's also what's known as a political campaign.) It comes from the Latin word calumnia, which means trickery, slander. Why not use slander or libel? Several reasons: 1. slander is a spoken statement intended to hurt, libel is written, calumny could be either, and 2. slander and libel are accepted legal terms, calumny is not.
Since I mentioned slander and libel, let me say (like you can stop me) that their etymology is more interesting than any of our other words today. Slander has a long path to English, coming from the Middle English sclaunder, which came from the Anglo-French esclaundre (the Old French word on which it was based is either esclandre or esclandle) which came from the Ecclesiastic Late Latin word scandalum, from which we get scandal.
Libel was a Middle English word meaning "little book", and came through Old French (libelle)from the Latin word libellus, which also means "little book." How did it come to mean something that is a false and malicious written statement? Perhaps its use in Admiralty and Ecclesiastical Law, where it was used to refer to bringing suit against by presenting a written statement of grievances is responsible. At any rate, by the 1300s it came to refer to a plaintiff's statement of charges.
Mendacity is the quality of being untrue, lying or false. It also comes from a Latin word (mendax - lying, deceitful) which is related to the Latin word menda (fault, defect) that comes from an Indo-European base (mend-) which means a flaw or shortcoming. Mend is the base word for the Latin word emendare, from which we get the word emend, which is the word for making a correction to a text. Mendacity is something that is wrong, has a flaw, and needs correcting. It still retains some uncertainty whether the untruth was intentional or not. It is a relatively late addition to the English language, coming in the 1600s.
Perfidy is not about kindness. The word comes through the Middle French from the Latin phrase per fidia, which is a short form of per fidem decipere that means "to deceive through faith". It's only a decade older than the word mendacity, having entered English in the 1590s. Perfidy, when used most accurately, describes when someone breaks a trust or deliberately breaks faith with someone. It is treachery with an element of deception (which is why I include it in this subject.)
So before using calumny, perfidy, slander, or libel, make sure you're ready to back up your contention, perhaps even in court. And for goodness sake, don't engage in any of these things; instead, if I can quote Michael Jackson (and why not? It may be my only chance in a blog on words) "heal the world, make it a better place."
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