FUTPNBCI (Follow Up - The Pedantic Night Before Christmas, Part I)

I went back to the post from a month ago and looked up the words I used, most of which haven’t been explicated in this blog heretofore. It will take a few posts, so might as well get started now and finish by next Christmas.

The second word in TPNBC is crepuscular. Taken directly from the Latin word for twilight or dusk, crepusulum, it was first used figuratively in English in the 1660s. It didn’t obtain the literal meaning until 1755. I encountered it twice in my reading,  in the biography of Moe Berg entitled The Catcher Was A Spy, and in the autobiography of the last child to be raised in Macbeth’s Castle, A Charmed Life.

Crepuscular is a word that reminds me (I’m sure it does you, too) of the word matutinal. As crepuscular describes the evening, matutinal is an adjective for that which pertains to the morning. It also comes from the Latin word for that which pertains to the morning, matutinalis, which comes from the Roman goddess of the morning, Matuta (not to be confused with Lacuna Matata, another blog post with reference to The Catcher Was A Spy).

The next word in TPNBC is quiescent, and can be found in the second line. It’s a great word that describes the condition of being at rest, still, or quiet. Its breadth of meaning is greater than quiet or resting or still, since it can mean all of those. Around 1600 it came to English from the Latin word quiescens. By the 1630s the noun form, quiescence, had come into use, and the verb form, quiesce, took another two centuries to be back-formed.  

Our third word from TPNBC is immure, in the first line of the second stanza. I first found the word in the P.D. James mystery The Private Patient. Immure means to shut in or imprison, and came to English in the 1580s from the Middle French word emmurer and directly from the Medeival Latin word immurare, which literally means “shut up within walls.” The Latin word for wall, murus, which is one of the root words for immure, is also the source of our word mural, which describes art on a wall.

Immure should not be confused (why would it except it sounds similar) for inure. Inure describes the process getting used to hardship or pain or discomfort. It came to English in the early 1400s from the combining of two words, in ure. Ure is a now obsolete English word that meant work or practice. Ure probably came from the French word oeuvre, which is now used in English to describe a body of work. Oeuvre came from the Latin word opera, which means work.

We get the word opus from the Latin word opera. (Did you know the plural of the word opus is opera?) It wasn’t used in English until 1809. Opera, according to etymonline.com, is the secondary (abstract) noung that comes from operari, which means ‘to work,’ and comes from opus (genitive operis). I’m sure that clears it up for you.

The Latin word opera easily became the Italian word opera, meaning a work or composition, and in the 1640s was used to describe a drama that is sung. We still use it that way.

And that’s just the first two stanzas of TPNBC.  More to come. 

What are Abs?

The phrase “work your abs." which has been in the title of my last three blog posts,  is short for a workout regimen that focuses on your abdominal muscles. Abdomen, I just realized, is a word I didn’t study in the previous three posts on abs.

In case you’re not aware, the abdominal muscles refer to muscles in the abdomen, the part of the body of a mammal that is between the thorax and the pelvis. It contains the stomach and intestines and other organs. The word abdomen came to English in the 1540s and originally meant “body fat”, something with which I am all too familiar. It came directly from the Latin word except the Latin word has unknown origins. (Maybe they didn’t want to be indiscrete.) It may be that it was formed from the Latin word for conceal, which is abdere, since we have long concealed that part of the body. (Forgotten – by some – fact: as late as 1970 when Barbara Eden’s belly button could not be shown in the last television series filmed in black and white: I Dream of Jeannie.) The word abdomen didn’t develop a purely anatomical sense (as opposed to anything concealed) until the 1610s.

Thorax, one of only three commonly used English words that end in –rax (the others are anthrax and borax), is the part of the body above the abdomen but below the neck. It is the part enclosed by the ribs, sternum and certain vertebrae, and is where the lungs and heart are located. It also comes from Latin, although it came in much earlier, about 1400. The Latin word thorax came from the Greek word thorakos, which is the word for chest or breastplate. Beyond that we have no idea of its origin. Thor wasn’t involved.

The pelvis is actually the cavity in the lower part of your trunk that is formed by various bones: the hip bones, the sacrum and the coccyx. The hip bone is actually formed by three bones, the ilium (which with the sacrum forms the sacroiliac joint), the ischium, and the pubis. The word pelvis came directly from Latin, too. Pelvis is the Latin word for basin, and was apparently used because the hip bones form something that looks like a basin. (Think of that the next time you wash up.)

The sacrum is the triangular bone between the hip bones at the base of the spine. It also came to English directly from Latin, where in Late Latin it was known as the os sacrum, or sacred bone (os meaning bone and sacrum meaning sacred). It is said to be called that because it was the part of animals that was offered in sacrifices because it helped protect the organs of procreation.

The coccyx, or tailbone, is directly below the sacrum and is the other bone in the pelvis. It came to English about 1610 from the Latin word coccyx, which came from the Greek word kokkyx, which got its name because Galen, one of the most famous Roman physican philosophers, thought that the bone was shaped like the beak of the cuckoo, kokkyx being the Greek for cuckoo.  (Think of that the next time you’re coccyx for Cocoa Puffs.)

For you Scrabble fans, coccyx and onyx are the two most common English words that end in yx.

Work Your Abs Part Three

I was reading the Twain (Mark, not Shania) novel The American Claimant and found the word abnegate (I would have expected absquatulate, but Twain likes surprises and disdains meeting expectations). It’s a good word that is simonymous (I’m trying to coin a new word) with abrogate, but has some important distinctions.

Abnegate is defined in dictionary.com as “to refuse or deny oneself (some rights, conveniences, etc.); reject; renounce.” And secondarily, to relinquish or give up. Its primary definition sounds like abstinence or abstemiousness, but the definition explains that abnegation is more about rights and position than about food and drink (or sex). The first form of the word to come to English was the noun form, abnegation, which arrived in the late 14^th century and originally referred to a negative assertion (e.g., I don’t think so). About 1500 it took on the meaning of self-denial, since the Latin word from which it derived was abnegationem, formed by adding the prefix ab- (off, away, from) to negare, which means to deny.  The verb form abnegate came to English in the 1650s.  

Abrogate arrived in English shortly after abnegation, and also came directly from Latin. While it uses our prefix of the month ab- it affixes it to the root rogare, which is the word for proposing a law or request.  (One of these days we’ll get to arrogate, which also comes from the same root word.) Abrogate still means to abolish by formal or official means, like by an act or repeal. Some Republicans campaigned last year on the idea of abrogating Obamacare.  Now they just hope to abridge it.

Abridge is the oldest of today’s words, having arrived in English about 1300 from Old French. It was originally spelled abreggen, but the Old French influenced the pronunciation and eventually the spelling came along for the ride. The Old French word from which abridge came to English is abregier, which the Old French got from the Late Latin word abbreviare.

Abridge means to shorten by omission. While originally it may had more broad usage that includes duration, scope, or authority, it is most often used now in reference to written works that have been shortened (like dictionaries).

Abbreviare is the obvious root of our word abbreviate, which means to shorten by omitting letters or reduce something in length or duration. To be safe, I would use abbreviate for something short made shorter, and abridge for something long made shorter. While in common usage they may be synonymous, I maintain they are merely simonymoun (I’m not giving up on my new word).  

How did the Old French make a dg out of a vi? Very easily and not unusually, as you’ll also see in words like assuage (which came through French from the Latin assuavidare) and deluge (which came through French from the Latin diluvium). 

We still keep the Latin form of deluge in our word antediluvian, which was coined by English physician Sir Thomas Browne as an adjective describing  anyone who lived “before the Flood,” by which capitalization he meant Noah’s flood.

Deluge can be used as a noun or a verb. In either form it refers to a large amount of something (usually water), a flood or inundation.  The noun form came through the Old French word with the same spelling and arrived in the late 14^th century. The Latin root word diluvium had the same meaning as deluge does now.

I've deluged you enough for one post. I probably should have abridged this post, but I didn't want to abnegate the opportunity to go where the words took me. 

Work Your Abs Part Two

I said last year “I’ll work on the difference between abscond and absquatulate. Then I’ll be abstemious, and maybe all this is facetious.” Today’s Latin joke is “how do you get away from those abs?”

So let’s look at absquatulate versus abscond. They’re not so different. Absquatulate is defined (by dictionary.com) as “to flee; abscond.” So they’re synonymous, right? To which I would answer “never!” If this blog has done nothing else, it should have illustrated how difficult it is to find two words that are truly synonyms. They may be similar (simonyms?) but are not identical in meaning as much as people may think.

Absquatulate was a “facetious U.S. coinage [Weekley]” according to etymonline.com, and they speculate that it was rooted in the “mock-Latin negation of squat ‘to settle.’” They also attribute its first usage to a U.S. Western character named Nimrod Wildfire in a play re-written by British author William B. Bernard and staged in London in 1833. I encountered the word in the book A Nation of Counterfeiters (page 194) where the word was quoted from an 1838 publication.  It is a colorful Americanism that refers to someone leaving a place they once lived.

Absconding, on the other hand, refers to a sudden and secret departure, especially to avoid capture and prosecution.  It’s been around much longer, having arrived in English in the 1560s. It came from the Middle French word absconder which came pretty directly from the Latin word abscondere. The Latin word is formed by adding the prefix ab-, which this week means “away” (see today’s Latin joke above) added to condere, which means to put together. In other words, “away put together.” Huh? Those crazy Latins. Somehow the combination came to mean to hide or conceal or to put out of sight – to put away together, as we might put it. If we putted.

So absconding is a much more insidious meaning, while absquatulating is at least colorful if not comic in intent.

That brings us to abstemious, and facetious, both of which were referenced but not explained in an earlier post.

Abstemious refers to abstinence or moderation in eating and drinking. It comes to English about 1600 from the Latin word abstemius. Again the prefix ab-, this time meaning “from” (see Latin joke above) is affixed to the Latin word temetum, their word for strong drink. Abstemius was extended in Latin beyond the reference to liquor to a lifestyle of temperance, a meaning retained in our word.

Abstinence, on the other hand, has been used in English since the mid-14^th century, when it arrived from the Old French word abstinence, which they got from the Latin word abstinentia. It originally referred specifically to sexual appetites, then was expanded to include “food, fighting, luxury” and has recently received considerable use in the sexual arena again. Its meaning is not temperate use, but complete forbearance or non-indulgence of appetite. That makes the differentiation between abstemious and abstinence more useful; they are “simonyms”, not synonyms.

To complete this study we need to consider facetious.  Facetious is an adjective used to refer to anything not meant to be taken seriously or literally. It is not intended to be misleading, merely amusing or a joke. Facetious came to English in the 1590s from the French word facétieux, which the French got from the Latin word facetia, which means a jest or witticism. So my Latin jokes may have been more facetious than humorous. You decide.

Work Your Abs Part One

Many people are thinking these days of the resolutions they will institute on January 1 and break on January 2. I’m thinking I’ll begin the year working on my abs. (For you Latin scholars, a little joke: you may wonder when I’ll get off my abs.)

First, I’ll do my morning ablutions (and discover the difference between morning ablutions and morning constitution), then I’ll work on the difference between abscond and absquatulate. Then I’ll be abstemious, and maybe all this is facetious.

Yes, the abs I’m working on are words that begin with ab-. I reencountered the word ablutions while reading the Bret Harte book The Luck of Roaring Camp some time ago. The first interesting thing about the word is that I have rarely seen it used in its singular form: ablution. An ablution is a cleansing with water or other liquid (I suppose those hand gels that are ubiquitous in hospitals qualify). Ablutions are washing of hands, face, etc. The word came to English directly from Latin in the late 14^th century. The closest word is ablutionem, the nominative form of which is ablution, in case you’re wondering. It is described by etymonline.com as a noun of action, from the past participle stem of the word abluere, which means to wash off and is formed from the addition of the prefix ab- , which means off (see Latin joke above), to the word luere, which means wash.

A phrase I associate with ablutions is morning constitutional. It is more difficult to find meanings for phrases, and after well over four minutes of searching online I couldn’t come up with a satisfactory etymology for the phrase “morning constitution”. (Several sites repeated a reference to walking that also included a reference to a “bowl” movement. Since they repeated the misspelling of bowel, I assume it was a cut and paste of someone’s original mistake. Or maybe I need to do a post on the difference between bowl and bowel….) So, without a phrase etymology, let’s look at the word etymologies to see what can be found.

The word constitution came to English in the mid-14^th century in reference to laws or edicts. It came from the Old French word constitucion, which they got from the Latin word constitutionem. Constitutionem is the act of settling, or a setting condition or regulation, order or ordinance. By the 1550s the word constitution began to refer to physical health, as in the phrase “she’s got a strong constitution.” In the 1680s the adjective constitutional developed, originally pertaining to a person’s physical or mental constitution. Since there is a healthy argument over whether it is better to work out in the morning or evening it is necessary to refer to that which is beneficial to your physical constitution as your morning constitutional. (The use of the phrase to refer to excretion is recent; I have heard it only since the 1970s.)

So you may wish to do your morning ablutions after your morning constitutional. More abs next week; I'm not giving up on them on Jan. 2.

Pedantic Night Before Christmas

One crepuscular Christmas, when all through the house

Every creature quiescent, and even the mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there

The children immured all snug in their beds,

Soporific encomiums danced in their heads.

And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such plangency,

I sprang up in all etiological urgency.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave effulgence of midday to objects below

When, to my meiosis of mind should irrupt,

And eight reindeer, diminutive sleigh, interrupt.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now Myrmidons! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the roof recrudescent they flew,
Gallimaufry of rapine, St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
In a cuirass of fur, from his head to his foot,
He’s a tatterdemalion of culm and of soot,
A surfeit of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how coruscate! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard was as hoary and white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it was gyred round his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a tumescent belly,
When he laughed it would welter, like a bowlful of jelly!

Inspissate and plump, a fey, jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
With his finger alongside his aquiline nose

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

On his Gadarene trip like the down of a thistle.

But I heard his chiasma, his hegira in sight,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma

One of Sir Winston Churchill’s most famous quotes comes from an October 1939 speech: “I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma, but perhaps there is a key. That key is Russian national interest.”

The 1960s television show Batman gives Churchill homage when The Riddler says “It’s a mystery. Broken into a jigsaw puzzle. Wrapped in a conundrum. Hidden in a Chinese box. A riddle.” The quote has been adapted multiple times in common culture.

In 2008 a New York Times article on the disappearance of fortune cookies from restaurants in China had the title “Solving a Riddle Wrapped in a Mystery Inside a Cookie.” Seinfeld has Elaine saying “Maybe he’s an enigma – a mystery wrapped in a riddle.” To which Jerry replies “He’s a mystery wrapped in a Twinkie.” But my favorite is from The Fifth Elephant. When one character mimics the Churchill quote another, named Sergeant Colon, misinterprets the quote later to be “a misery wrapped in an enema.” (Thanks to tvtropes.org for these and many more examples.)

Mystery, conundrum, and enigma are all odd words, unlike many others  unless you’re Sergeant Colon. Mystery is one of the most common non-adverb words to use two “y”s; conundrum (with panjandrum) just sounds funny, and enigma has vowels beginning and ending the word with the odd gm in the middle. Where did these oddly constructed words come from and what’s the difference between them?

Mystery came to English through the church in the early 14^th century. It originally referred to (according to etymonline.com) “religious truth via divine revelation, hidden spiritual significance, mystical truth” The path it took was through Anglo-French (misterie), Old French (mistere), and/or Modern French (mystère) from the Latin mysterium, which refers to a secret rite or secret worship or secret thing, and eventually from the Greek word myterion or its plural mysteria that refers to a secret rite or doctrine. When the Old Testament was first translated into Greek, the word was used to describe the “secret counsel of God”, and was translated into Latin (in the Vulgate version) as sacramentum. So the word has a religious connotation that the others do not.

By the late 14^th century  the word came to broader English use to describe anything hidden or secret. Since the development of the detective story (attributed substantially to Poe) the term is now a genre, but wasn’t used for that genre until 1908.

Conundrum came into use in the 1590s, when at Oxford University they were looking for a slang word to use to describe a pedant. It is also spelled quonundrum, and is described by etymonline.com as a “ponderous pseudo-Latin word”.  One dictionary defines it as a riddle with a pun or play on words involved, and uses as an example the riddle “What is black and white and red/read all over? A newspaper.” Use conundrum when there is some humor involved in the riddle.

Enigma also comes from Greek and Latin. Its Greek root word is ainigma, which is from ainos, the word for a fable or riddle. The Latin word that came from ainigma is ænigma. While in the mid-15^th century the word enigmate was being used in English, it was in the 1580s that enigma appeared.

Enigma has the broadest definition, and can define a situation, an individual, or a saying, question or picture that has a hidden meaning. It is also the name given to the German code-making machine used through World War II.

Use enigma in general, mystery particularly with detective stories or religious rites, and conundrum with humor.  Don’t be, as Raymond described his brother Robert on the television show Everybody Loves Raymond “an idiot wrapped in a moron.”