Jocularity, Jocularity

[For those disappointed this isn't an Easter post, please see this post.]

Tomorrow being April Fool's Day it is only fitting that we address jocularity today. Whenever I hear that word I am reminded of the character Father Francis Mulcahy, played by William Christopher in the television show M*A*S*H. The gang was doing imitations at a party and Col. Potter (played by Henry Morgan) did an imitation of Father Mulcahy and said "jocularity, jocularity". It is a particularly appropriate expression to illustrate how uncomfortable with humor the good Father was.

While we've already covered chuckle and chortle there are some funny words (funny among them) that we haven't covered, and we certainly should take a look at fool.

So let's start with the apparently easy ones: fool and funny.

Fool is a word that can be used as a noun, verb or adjective. In April Fool's Day it is ostensibly a verb, as in to fool someone with a trick. This post is not one of them. The word fool has a long history, beginning with its entry as a noun in the late 13th century. As a noun its primary meaning is "silly or stupid person", but it still retains a secondary meaning of a professional jester, a meaning it first gained in the late 14th century, when it may have been used either to describe an entertainer or an "amusing lunatic" as etymonline.com has it. Sometimes the two are difficult to differentiate even now. It originally came to English from Old French, where the word fol referred to a madman, insane person, rogue, idiot or jester. The Old French got it from the Latin word follis, which describes the blacksmith's bellows and when applied to people was an apt description for an empty-headed windbag, which these days also sounds like a politician.

The word funny is a much more recent immigrant, having first appeared in its adjective form in 1756. The original noun form, fun, is not much older, having arrived in 1727 and originally meant "trick or amusement,"  a very appropriate meaning for April Fool's Day. Funny originally meant (and still does) humorous, and didn't gain the meaning "odd" until 1806, having originated in the southern U.S., although there is nothing to suggest there are more odd people in the southern U.S. than elsewhere. Its etymology is uncertain.

Speaking of humorous, the word humor came to English as a physiological term in the mid-14th century. It meant "fluid or juice of an animal or plan" and came from the Old North French word humour, which came from the Old French word humor, which came from the Latin word umor that mean "body fluid." How did it come to mean something comic causing amusement? Since the prevailing wisdom at that time was that body fluids determined state of mind, humor came by the 1520s to refer to state of mind, and by the 1560s to a sense of whim or caprice, and by the 1680s to its current primary meaning. Apparently the pronunciation of the initial h is of recent vintage, and has predominated much more so than has the initial h in the word herb; honor still retains the silent h. Hinteresting, eh?

And we never got to jocularity or jocose. Wait until next week.

FUTPNBCIII (Follow Up - The Pedantic Night Before Christmas, Part III)

Due to next week being a holiday, the recurring FUTPNBC series is springing forward a week.  For those who are new to the blog, FUTPNBC refers to the December 23, 2012 post and stands for Follow Up To Pedantic Night Before Christmas. It’s taken three posts so far to cover words used in that post, and there are more to come (we’re only about halfway through the poem after today’s post.)

Our first word is diminutive, which means small or little. It is often used of people, but can be used of anything tiny, like Santa’s reindeer and sleigh. It has been used in English since the late 1300s, when it came as both a noun and an adjective from the Old French word diminutif. The Old French got their word from the Latin word diminutivus, which is from the past participle stem of deminuere. We also get the word diminish from this Latin root word.  

Our next word has a classical Greek mythology etymology (for those who like ologies). Myrmidon goes back to the story of Achilles in the Trojan War. Some of you (maybe one or two) will remember the Thessalian tribe of warriors that Achilles led into battle. They had been changed from ants (myrmex in Greek) to men, and were still referred to as Myrmidones. The word came into use in English about 1400, and at some point in the next 200 years came to refer to a person who executes commands without questioning them. When used in that sense, myrmidon need not be capitalized. When referring to the ant-men of the Trojan War it should be capitalized.

Recrudescent is the adjective form of the noun recrudescence. (The verb form is recrudesce.) I don’t have etymology of recrudescent, but it’s in my dictionary so I used it. The earliest form of the word in English is the noun form, which means breaking out again into activity. Its first use in English was in 1721, and came directly from the Latin word recrudescere, which literally translated means to become raw again, but also means to re-open (like wounds). Crudescere comes from the Latin word crudus, that means “raw” and from which we get our word crude. It is indeed a good word for renewed activity like the reindeer who had settled on the lawn only to be recrudesced to the roof by Santa.

Gallimaufry is a noun that refers to a jumble or hash or ragout; it is a bunch of things thrown together. It came to English in the 1550s from the French word galimafrée, which I will now call any hash or stew I create. It sounds so much more delectable. Galimafrée came from the Old French word calimafree, which was a “sauce made from mustard, ginger and vinegar; a stew of carp”. We’re not sure where that word came from; one suggestion is that it is a combination of the Old French word for “to make merry, live well”, galer, and the Old North French word for eating a lot, mafrer. Makes sense to me. Now I’m hungry.

Happy St. Patrick's Day, Pope Francis

This week the first pope from the new world, the first pope to take the name Francis, was elected. While he has not been eremitic or peccant, everyone hopes he will have limpid vision for the church and be apotropaic if not alembic.

Eremitic is one of those words to come from Church Latin. Back in the time of St. Francis of Assisi, in about 1200, it came into use in English from the Latin word eremita. It is defined as a hermit or recluse, especially one who is so because of a religious vow. Eremite is used as a “learned form” of the word hermit and for the last several hundred years has been used mostly in poetry or rhetoric except when used to describe specific examples from church history. Pope Francis was definitely not eremitic – early accounts of his lifestyle indicate he was known to take public transportation as a Cardinal.

Pope Francis also is not peccant, a word that primarily means sinful or guilty of a moral offense but also can mean violating a rule or established practice. While his papacy is historic one account calls him theologically orthodox and socially conservative. Peccant came to English in about 1600 from another Latin word, peccantem, the present participle form of the Latin word for “to sin,” peccare. We also get the more common English word peccadillo from this root word. 

Limpid is a word that means a lot of good things. Primarily used to describe something clear or transparent, like water or air, it also means lucid and free from obscurity and even more appropriately can mean completely calm or without distress or worry. It came to English about the same time as peccant, but came through French from Late Latin. The French word limpide was derived from the Latin word limpidus, which meant clear. Limpa was the word for “water goddess” and sometimes was the word for water. We are all hopeful that Pope Francis’s leadership is one of clarity and peace.

Alembic, which used to refer to a vessel formerly used in distilling, now describes anything that transforms, purifies, or refines, a good word for what the church needs now. It came into English back in the late 1300s, from the Middle French word alambic, which they got from Old Spanish who got it from the Arabic al-anbiq, or “distilling flask.” The Arabs got the word from the Greeks, who called their cup an ambix, and the Greeks may have gotten the word from an unknown Semitic source.

We also hope Francis’ papacy is apotropaic, which is from the Greek word apotropaios which means “averting evil.” It came to English only 130 years ago, and is still an adjective used to describe something that is intended to ward off evil.

Since today is St. Patrick’s day, the blog would not be complete without an Irish reference. It is given to us by etymonline.com, whose description of apotropaic is accompanied by their use of the word in their etymology of the English noun sheela na gig or sheela-na-gig, which came from the Irish Sile na gcioch, which is literally translated “Sheila of the breasts.” The phrase refers to figurative carvings of naked women with exaggerated vulvae, and one theory proposed, according to etymonline.com, that they are “meant as an apotropaic gesture to ward off the devil.” Of course, now you know that adding “…to ward off the devil” is redundant. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

From The Canting Crew to The Army of the Potomac Part II

What is the strumpet to which Samuel Johnson refers in last week's post? It’s nothing to do with trumpets or crumpets. It’s another word for a prostitute or harlot. Its origin is also unclear, but according to etymonline.com

One theory connects it with Latin struprata, [the] feminine past participle of stuprare “have illicit sexual relations with,” or [the] Late Latin strumpum “dishonor, violation.” Others suggest Middle Dutch strompe, “a stocking,” or strompen “to stride, to stalk” (as a prostitute might a customer). The major sources don’t seem to give much preference to any of these. Weekley notes “Gregory’s Chronicle (c. 1450) has streppett in [the] same sense.”

Harlot, now a synonym for prostitute, also had a less negative original meaning. (Makes one wonder why we devolved so many different words for prostitute.) When it came to English in about 1200 it referred to a vagabond or rogue or a man with no fixed occupation. It came to English from the Old French word herlot or arlot, the equivalent of our hobo. Chaucer also used this word, both in a positive and in a pejorative sense. By the 15^th century it developed its use to describe a woman of ill repute, a sense reinforced and solidified by its use in 16^th century translations of the Bible. Etymonline says it may be Germanic if its first element is derived from hari, the word for “army.” But how it changed from army to vagabond to prostitute doesn’t seem like a natural progression to me.

While we’re on the prostitute thing, a common word in America for prostitute is hooker, and its etymology bears recounting. A popular story is that it was due to the poor morality of General “Fighting Joe” Hooker’s men in the Army of the Potomac during the American Civil War, in early 1863. But about 1845 it was used in a letter warning against “…any number of pretty Hookers in the Brick row not far from French’s hotel” in Norfolk, Virginia. But it was also used to refer to a resident of Corlear’s Hook in the New York City in 1859, many of which were employed in a number of houses of ill-repute frequented by sailors. At any rate, no matters its earlier usages the word hooker came to refer to a prostitute in the 1800s.

Another interesting word is succubus, and while it is another word for a prostitute it also has an interesting etymology with a retained meaning. It is a late 14^th century alteration of the Late Latin word succuba, which was used of a female demon who would have intercourse with men in their sleep. The Latin word was formed by combining the prefix sub-, which still means under as it did in ancient Rome, with cubare, which means to lie down. The combination formed the word succubare, which meant “to lie under.”  Succubus is still used for this demon.

Some day we’ll get to nice words for women. Maybe for Mother’s Day. 

From The Canting Crew to The Army of the Potomac Part I

In an email I asked one of the readers of this blog if she felt like she was being a harridan. Since she didn’t respond at all to the use of the obscure word it’s time to give some more attention to the proliferation of negative words describing women and compare/contrast it with negative words about men.

I’ve posted on three words describing men exclusively or primarily: avuncular, bon vivant, and cuckold. But of these words only cuckold has any negative sense. Avuncular and bon vivant are both positive words.  The words we’ve already covered that refer exclusively to women are not positive words: demimonde  and ecdysiast both would not be good words to use in polite society. And there are other not positive words that are as yet untouched upon. Although several of them were not originally as negative as they’ve come to mean.

Harridan is a word that refers to a woman who nags and scolds, and is just a vicious shrew. Etymonline.com has some definitions from literature (it usually doesn’t include as much as it did with harridan): in 1700 the Dictionary of the Canting Crew, a dictionary that captured a significant number of slang and non-standard words, defined harridan as “one that is half Whore, half Bawd.”  While etymonline.com will only state that it is found from the 16^th century on, it admits its origin is unknown.  The World English Dictionary suggests that it may be related to the French word haridelle, which is literally a broken-down horse. By 1755 Samuel Johnson defined a harridan in his dictionary as “a decayed strumpet.”

A slattern may be a nice woman, but is not a good housekeeper.  Whereas harridan usually is used of an older woman, slattern can be used of any age, even a girl. It is defined primarily as a slovenly, untidy woman. In the 1630s, when it came to English it referred to a rude, ill-bred woman.  It may have come from the Low German word Slattje, the Dutch word slodder, or the dialectical Swedish word slata, which means slut (not the slut you’re likely thinking). But its meaning has come to be more closely associated with slatter, an English verb that means to spill or splash or waste, and describes the kind of activity that an untidy or slovenly woman would pay little attention to when cleaning. It now has a secondary definition of slut.

Slut originally meant the same thing as slattern: a dirty, slovenly, or untidy woman. But that was back in the 1400s, before slattern came along. Dictionary.com still lists dirty and slovenly as a secondary definition, but indicates its use in that sense is obsolete. According to the Oxford English Dictionary it first appeared in written English in 1402, and also originally was used to describe a kitchen maid.  But by the end of the century it referred to an immoral or improper woman.  Etymonline.com refers to Chaucer’s use of the word sluttish in the late 1300s in reference to an untidy man.  But by the middle of the 1400s it also refers to a woman of loose morals.

Some other interesting uses of slut developed: in the 18^th century hard pieces of a bread loaf that developed because of imperfect kneading were called  slut’s pennies, doubtless a reference to lazy kitchen maids. In the 19^th century it was also used as a synonym for bitch, in referring to female dogs.

More words for bad women next week. 

FUTPNBCII (Follow Up - The Pedantic Night Before Christmas, Part II)

It’s time for another installment of the follow up to The Pendantic Night Before Christmas.

The next words we’ll get to are plangency, etiology, meiosis and irrupt.

“Out on the lawn there arose such a plangency” – plangency is the noun form of the adjective plangent. Plangent came into English at almost exactly the same time (1822) as Clement Moore’s poem (1823). It came directly from the Latin word plangentem, the present participle of plangere, which is the word used for striking or beating something. But its meaning in English is to describe any loud sound that results from striking something – a bell, a gong, cymbals, or the hard landing of a sleigh with eight reindeer and billions of gifts.

“…all etiological urgency” – etiology is (as the –ology suffix indicates) the study of something. This is a great word for exactly what is described in this line – studying the cause of the plangency. While used primarily in reference to the study of the cause of diseases, ultimately etiology comes from the Greek word aitiologia, a combination of the Greek words aitia, meaning cause, and logia, meaning “a speaking”. The Latin word aetiologia, which the Romans got from the Greek word, is from the English of the 1550s got the word. So if you’re trying to find the cause of something you are engaged in etiology.

“…gave effulgence of midday…” – effulgence is simply a brilliant radiance or a shining forth. It came from Late Latin in its adjectival form in the 1660s from the word effulgentia. Effulgentia is formed from the prefix ex- (meaning out or from) and fulgere, meaning to shine. It took over 75 years for the noun form to arrive.

“…when to my meiosis of mind should irrupt…” – meiosis in rhetoric, which I’m given to, is belittlement or expressive understatement, especially litotes. While this word is not the pedantic version of wondering, I like to use the phrase “my alleged mind” on occasion, and this would be its sense here. Meiosis came to English in this sense in the 1580s from the Greek word of the same spelling that means “a lessening”, which is a form of the Greek word for less or lessen. It eventually (in 1905) developed a biological meaning, but since I presume few cell biologists read this blog, I’ll forego that explanation.

Irrupt is related to erupt. In fact, it’s in a way the opposite of erupt, which describes something coming out quickly and forcibly. Irrupt describes something that breaks or bursts in suddenly. It also is used to express the violent activity or emotion as of a group of people. It could have been formed from the Latin word irruptus. Its first use in its verb form is from in 1855 (so Clement Moore didn’t use it because it hadn’t come to English yet). But since irruption, the noun form, had been used since the 1570s, it’s more likely that it is a back formation of the noun form, which came across the channel from the Middle French word irruption. The original Latin word, however it got to English, is irruptionem, which means “a breaking in or bursting in or invasion” and is formed from combining in- and rumpere, from which we get the word rupture. So next time you’re watching Seinfeld and see Kramer’s traditional entry into Jerry’s apartment, you’ll see an irruption.

That's enough irruption for one day; I hope the effulgence has, even if I'm engaging in meiosis, been etiological.

Smell That?

As regular readers of this blog know, my mind works in its own unique manner. I hear a word and will hear a similar word and wonder if they’re connected by etymology. Today we’ll look at two pairings.

The first pairing, affluent and effluent, are almost identical save for the initial vowel. It is interesting how such similar words can have such differences.

Affluent comes from the two Latin words ad, meaning “to”, and fluere, meaning flow. Combining them gives the word affluere, “to flow toward”. The present participle of affluere  is affluentem, and when the Middle French saw it in the 14^th century they adopted it as affluent and kept the meaning as “flowing.” A century later the English decided it looked like a nice word and adopted it from the Middle French. It still meant flowing; how did it come to is most common current use of having an abundance of wealth, property or material goods? As its meaning shifted from simply flowing to flowing freely, it developed a sense of flowing in abundance, which then translated to not just liquid but other valuables. Now it predominantly means having an abundance of wealth. But if you want to be pedantic, you can still use it to refer to flowing liquids.

Effluent also refers to flowing liquids. But the original Latin prefix was not ad-, but ex-, which means “from” rather than “to”. Effluere’s present participle is effluentem, which made for an easy adoption into English around 1450 as effluent. By 1600 the noun form effluence had developed. If affluent refers to an abundance flowing toward, and effluent an abundance flowing away from, it’s primarily meaning in the dictionary, how did it come to be associated with sewage? It took a while. It wasn’t until 1930 we find the first use of effluent to refer to liquid industrial waste. But it makes sense. After all, runoff from rain goes into the sewer, which flows away as effluence, so anything that flows away as useless liquid can be called effluence.

The second pairing of words is redolent and indolent. These have very different meanings without any apparent connection, so why do they both end with –dolent?

Indolent means having a disposition to avoid exertion or work or movement. But it also has a nefarious medical sense of feeling no pain or sensibility. Where did the word come from? Latin. 

The prefix in- being a negative prefix that creates the opposite to what follows. And what follows is dolere, which means “suffer pain.” To get from indolere to indolence you need to pass through the present participle which is indolentem to the noun of action which is indolentia into French (which happened about 1500) as indolence, then into English about 1600 as the noun indolence, then wait 60 years until someone decided we needed an adjective form and settled on indolent.

A couple other points on indolent: 1. Jerome, when translating the New Testament from the Greek into Latin, used a form of the word indolentem to translate the Greek word apelgekos that Paul used in his letter to the Ephesians.  2. In 1710 the avoidance of pain came to also mean laziness, which could most easily be accomplished by those with sufficient resources to live on “easy street”, so it developed meanings both of laziness and living easily. One word, three used.

Redolent has two Latin word roots that are very different from indolent. The Latin prefix re- intensifies what follows, but what follows is not the word dolere, but the word olere. Olere means to give off a smell or have an odor. In fact, the Latin words odor and olere probably have the same source, with the different spelling being blamed on the Sabines, a people of central Italy who were conquered by the Romans in the 290 BC. Apparently they preferred the letter L to the letter D. Odor referred to the scent itself in Latin, while olere seems to have referred to the act of emitting the scent. (Latin scholars feel free to weigh in on the point.)

The Old French had adopted the Latin word and developed redolent to mean “emitting and odor”, and the English decided around 1400 to include it in their lexicon. It still means “having a smell of,” with an expanded meaning “reminiscent of.” As we know now, smells are some of the best conductors of memories, so it makes sense it would develop that meaning.