SEMANTICS
The convenient name semantics has been applied of late to the science of
meanings, as distinguished from phonetics, the science of sound. The
comparative study of languages enables us to observe and codify the
general laws which govern sense development, and to understand why
meanings become extended or restricted. One phenomenon which seems to
occur normally in language results from what we may call the simplicity
of the olden times. Thus the whole vocabulary which is etymologically
related to _writing_ and _books_ has developed from an old Germanic verb
that means to _scratch_ and the Germanic name for the _beech_. Our
earliest books were wooden tablets on which inscriptions were scratched.
The word _book_ itself comes from Anglo-Sax. _b[=o]c_, beech; _cf._ Ger.
_Buchstabe_, letter, lit. beech-stave. Lat. _liber_, book, whence a
large family of words in the Romance languages, means the inner bark of
a tree, and _bible_ is ultimately from Greek {byblos}, the inner rind of
the _papyrus_, the Egyptian rush from which _paper_ was made.[63]
The earliest measurements were calculated from the human body. All
European languages use the _foot_, and we still measure horses by
_hands_, while _span_ survives in table-books. _Cubit_ is Latin for
_elbow_, the first part of which is the same as _ell_, cognate with Lat.
_ulna_, also used in both senses. Fr. _brasse_, fathom, is Lat.
_brachia_, the two arms, and _pouce_, thumb, means inch. A further set
of measures are represented by simple devices: a _yard_[64] is a small
"stick," and the _rod_, _pole_, or _perch_ (cf. _perch_ for birds, Fr.
_perche_, pole) which gives charm to our arithmetic is a larger one. A
_furlong_ is a _furrow-long_. For weights common objects were used,
_e.g._, a _grain_, or a _scruple_, Lat. _scrupulus_, "a little sharpe
stone falling sometime into a man's shooe" (Cooper), for very small
things, a _stone_ for heavier goods. Gk. {drachma}, whence our _dram_,
means a handful. Our decimal system is due to our possession of ten
_digits_, or fingers, and _calculation_ comes from Lat. _calculus_, a
pebble.
[Page Heading: FINANCIAL TERMS]
A modern Chancellor of the Exchequer, considering his budget, is not so
near the reality of things as his medieval predecessor, who literally
sat in his counting-house, counting up his money. For the _exchequer_,
named from the Old Fr. _eschequier_ (_échiquier_), chess-board, was once
the board marked out in squares on which the treasurer reckoned up with
counters the king's taxes. This Old Fr. _eschequier_, which has also
given _chequer_, is a derivative of Old Fr. _eschec_ (_échec_), check.
Thus "_check_ trousers" and a "_chequered_ career" are both directly
related to an eastern potentate (see _chess_, p. 120.). The
_chancellor_ himself was originally a kind of door-keeper in charge of a
_chancel_, a latticed barrier which we now know in church architecture
only. _Chancel_ is derived, through Fr. _chancel_ or _cancel_, from Lat.
_cancellus_, a cross-bar, occurring more usually in the plural in the
sense of lattice, grating. We still _cancel_ a document by drawing such
a pattern on it. In German _cancellus_ has given _Kanzel_, pulpit. The
_budget_, now a document in which millions are mere items, was the
chancellor's little bag or purse--
"If tinkers may have leave to live,
And bear the sow-skin _budget_,
Then my account I well may give,
And in the stocks avouch it."
(_Winter's Tale_, iv. 2.)
Fr. _bougette_, from which it is borrowed, is a diminutive of _bouge_, a
leathern bag, which comes from Lat. _bulga_, "a male or _bouget_ of
leather; a purse; a bagge" (Cooper). Modern French has borrowed back our
_budget_, together with several other words dealing with business and
finance.
Among the most important servants of the exchequer were the
_controllers_. We now call them officially _comptroller_, through a
mistaken association with Fr. _compte_, account. The controller had
charge of the _counter-rolls_ (cf. _counterfoil_), from Old Fr.
_contre-rolle_, "the copy of a role (of accounts, etc.), a paralell of
the same quality and content, with the originall" (Cotgrave). In French
_contrôle_ has preserved the sense of supervision or verification which
it has lost in ordinary English.
A very ancient functionary of the exchequer, the tally-cutter, was
abolished in the reign of George III. _Tallies_ (Fr. _tailler_, to cut)
were sticks "scored" across in such a way that the notches could be
compared for purposes of verification. Jack Cade preferred those good
old ways--
"Our fore-fathers had no other books but the _score_ and the
_tally_; thou hast caused books to be used."
(2 _Henry VI._, iv. 7.)
This rudimentary method of calculation was still in use in the Kentish
hop-gardens within fairly recent times; and some of us can remember very
old gentlemen asking us, after a cricket match, how many "notches" we
had "scored"--
"The _scorers_ were prepared to _notch_ the runs."
(_Pickwick_, Ch. 7.)
This use of _score_, for a reckoning in general, or for twenty, occurs
in Anglo-Saxon, but the word is Scandinavian. The words _score_ and
_tally_, originally of identical meaning, were soon differentiated, a
common phenomenon in such cases. For the exchequer _tally_ was
substituted an "indented cheque receipt." An _indenture_, chiefly
familiar to us in connection with apprenticeship, was a duplicate
document of which the "indented" or toothed edges had to correspond like
the notches of the score or tally. _Cheque_, earlier _check_, is
identical with _check_, rebuff. The metaphor is from the game of chess
(see p. 120), to _check_ a man's accounts involving a sort of control,
or pulling up short, if necessary. A _cheque_ is a method of payment
which makes "checking" easy. The modern spelling is due to popular
association with _exchequer_, which is etymologically right, though the
words have reached their modern functions by very different paths.
[Page Heading: OFFICIAL TITLES]
The development of the meaning of _chancellor_ can be paralleled in the
case of many other functionaries, once humble but now important. The
titles of two great medieval officers, the _constable_ and the
_marshal_, mean the same thing. _Constable_, Old Fr. _conestable_
(_connétable_), is Lat. _comes stabuli_, stable fellow. _Marshal_, the
first element of which is cognate with _mare_, while the second
corresponds to modern Ger. _Schalk_, rascal, expresses the same idea in
German. Both _constable_ and _marshal_ are now used of very high
positions, but Policeman X. and the _farrier-marshal_, or shoeing-smith,
of a troop of cavalry, remind them of the base degrees by which they did
ascend. The _Marshalsea_ where Little Dorrit lived is for _marshalsy_,
marshals' office, etc. The _steward_, or _sty-ward_, looked after his
master's pigs. He rose in importance until, by the marriage of Marjorie
Bruce to Walter the _Stewart_ of Scotland, he founded the most
picturesque of royal houses. The _chamberlain_, as his name suggests,
attended to the royal comforts long before he became a judge of
wholesome literature.
All these names now stand for a great number of functions of varying
importance. Other titles which are equally vague are _sergeant_ (see p.
148) and _usher_, Old Fr. _uissier_[65] (_huissier_), lit. door-keeper,
Lat. _ostiarius_, a porter. Another official was the _harbinger_, who
survives only in poetry. He was a forerunner, or vauntcourier, who
preceded the great man to secure him "harbourage" for the night, and his
name comes from Old Fr. _herberger_ (_héberger_), to shelter (see p.
164). As late as the reign of Charles II. we read that--
"On the removal of the court to pass the summer at Winchester,
Bishop Ken's house, which he held in the right of his prebend, was
marked by the _harbinger_ for the use of Mrs Eleanor Gwyn; but he
refused to grant her admittance, and she was forced to seek for
lodgings in another place."
(HAWKINS, _Life of Bishop Ken_.)
[Page Heading: PARALLEL METAPHORS]
One of the most interesting branches of semantics, and the most useful
to the etymologist, deals with the study of parallel metaphors in
different languages. We have seen (p. 29) how, for instance, the names
of flowers show that the same likeness has been observed by various
races. The spice called _clove_ and the _clove_-pink both belong to Lat.
_clavus_, a nail. The German for pink is _Nelke_, a Low German
diminutive, _nail-kin_, of _Nagel_, nail. The spice, or _Gewürznelke_,
is called in South Germany _Nägele_, little nail. A _clove_ of garlic is
quite a separate word; but, as it has some interesting cognates, it may
be mentioned here. It is so called because the bulb _cleaves_ naturally
into segments.[66] The German name is _Knoblauch_, for Mid. High Ger.
_klobe-louch_, clove-leek, by dissimilation of one _l_. The Dutch
doublet is _kloof_, a chasm, gully, familiar in South Africa.
Fr. _poison_, Lat. _potio_, _potion-_, a drink, and Ger. _Gift_, poison,
lit. gift, seem to date from treacherous times. On the other hand, Ger.
_Geschenk_, a present, means something poured out (see _nuncheon_, p.
124), while a tip is in French _pourboire_ and in German _Trinkgeld_,
even when accepted by a lifelong abstainer. In English we "ride a
_hobby_," _i.e._, a hobby-horse, or wooden horse. German has the same
metaphor, "ein _Steckenpferd_ reiten," and French says "enfourcher un
_dada_," _i.e._, to bestride a gee-gee. _Hobby_, for Mid. Eng. _hobin_,
a nag, was a proper name for a horse. Like _Dobbin_ and _Robin_, it
belongs to the numerous progeny of Robert.
In some cases the reason for a metaphor is not quite clear to the modern
mind. The bloodthirsty weasel is called in French _belette_,[67] little
beauty, in Italian _donnola_, in Portuguese _doninha_, little lady, in
Spanish _comadreja_, gossip (Fr. _commère_, Scot. _cummer_, p. 94), in
Bavarian _Schöntierlein_, beautiful little animal, in Danish _kjönne_,
beautiful, and in older English _fairy_.[68] From Lat. _medius_ we get
_mediastinus_, "a drugge (drudge) or lubber to doe all vile service in
the house; a kitching slave" (Cooper). Why this drudge should have a
name implying a middle position I cannot say; but to-day in the North of
England a maid-of-all-work is called a _tweeny_ (between maid).
A stock semantic parallel occurs in the relation between age and
respectability. All of us, as soon as we get to reasonable maturity, lay
great stress on the importance of deference to "elders." It follows
naturally that many titles of more or less dignity should be evolved
from this idea of seniority. The Eng. _alderman_ is obvious. _Priest_,
Old Fr. _prestre_[69] (_prêtre_), from Gk. {presbyteros}, comparative of
{presbys}, old, is not so obvious. In the Romance languages we have a
whole group of words, _e.g._, Fr. _sire_, _sieur_, _seigneur_, Ital.
_signor_, Span. _señor_, with their compounds _monsieur_, _messer_,
etc., all representing either _senior_ or _seniorem_. Ger. _Eltern_,
parents, is the plural comparative of _alt_, old, and the first element
of _seneschal_ (see _marshal_, p. 90) is cognate with Lat. _senex_. From
Fr. _sire_ comes Eng. _sir_, and from this was formed the adjective
_sirly_,[70] now spelt _surly_, which in Shakespeare still means
haughty, arrogant--
"See how the _surly_ Warwick mans the wall."
(3 _Henry VI._, v. 1.)
[Page Heading: LIST--MATELOT]
A _list_, in the sense of enumeration, is a "strip." The cognate German
word is _Leiste_, border. We have the original meaning in "_list_
slippers." Fr. _bordereau_, a list, which became very familiar in
connection with the Dreyfus case, is a diminutive of _bord_, edge.
_Label_ is the same word as Old Fr. _lambel_ (_lambeau_), rag. _Scroll_
is an alteration, perhaps due to _roll_, of Mid. Eng. _scrow_ or
_escrow_, from Old Fr. _escroue_,[71] rag, shred. _Docket_, earlier
_dogget_, is from an old Italian diminutive of _doga_, cask-stave, which
meant a bendlet in heraldry. _Schedule_ is a diminutive of Lat.
_scheda_, "a scrowe" (Cooper), properly a strip of papyrus. Ger.
_Zettel_, bill, ticket, is the same word. Thus all these words, more or
less kindred in meaning, can be reduced to the primitive notion of strip
or scrap.
_Farce_, from French, means stuffing. The verb to _farce_, which
represents Lat. _farcire_, survives in the perverted _force_-meat. A
parallel is _satire_, from Lat. _satura_ (_lanx_), a full dish, hence a
medley. Somewhat similar is the modern meaning of _magazine_, a
"store-house" of amusement or information.
The closest form of intimacy is represented by community of board and
lodging, or, in older phraseology, "bed and board." _Companion_, with
its related words, belongs to Vulgar Lat. _*companio_, _companion-_,
bread-sharer. The same idea is represented by the pleonastic Eng.
_messmate_, the second part of which, _mate_, is related to _meat_.
_Mess_, food, Old Fr. _mes_ (_mets_), Lat. _missum_, is in modern
English only military or naval, but was once the usual name for a dish
of food--
"Herbs and other country _messes_
Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses."
(_Allegro_, l. 85.)
With _mate_ we may compare Fr. _matelot_, earlier _matenot_,
representing Du. _maat_, meat, and _genoot_, a companion. The latter
word is cognate with Ger. _Genosse_, a companion, from _geniessen_, to
enjoy or use together. In early Dutch we find also _mattegenoet_,
through popular association with _matte_, hammock, one hammock serving,
by a Box and Cox arrangement, for two sailors.
_Comrade_ is from Fr. _camarade_, and this from Span. _camarada_,
originally a "room-full," called in the French army _une chambrée_. This
corresponds to Ger. _Geselle_, comrade, from _Saal_, room. The reduction
of the collective to the individual is paralleled by Ger. _Bursche_,
fellow, from Mid. High Ger. _burse_, college hostel; cf. _Frauenzimmer_,
wench, lit. women's room. It can hardly be doubted that _chum_ is a
corrupted clip from _chamber-fellow_.[72] It is thus explained in a
_Dictionary of the Canting Crew_ (1690), within a few years of its
earliest recorded occurrence, and the reader will remember Mr Pickwick's
introduction to the _chummage_ system in the Fleet (Ch. 42).
[Page Heading: CUMMER--GREENHORN]
English _gossip_, earlier _god-sib_, related in God, a sponsor, soon
developed the subsidiary meanings of boon companion, crony, tippler,
babbler, etc., all of which are represented in Shakespeare. The case of
Fr. _compère_ and _commère_, godfather and godmother, is similar.
Cotgrave explains _commérage_ as "gossiping; the acquaintance, affinity,
or league that growes betweene women by christning a child together, or
one for another." Ger. _Gevatter_, godfather, has also acquired the
sense of Fr. _bonhomme_ (p. 80), Eng. _daddy_. From _commère_ comes
Scot. _cummer_ or _kimmer_--
"A canty quean was Kate, and a special _cummer_ of my ain."
(_Monastery_, Ch. 8.)
While christenings led to cheerful garrulity, the wilder fun of weddings
has given the Fr. _faire la noce_, to go on the spree. In Ger.
_Hochzeit_, wedding, lit. high time, we have a converse development of
meaning.
Parallel sense development in different languages sometimes gives us a
glimpse of the life of our ancestors. Our verb to _curry_ (leather)
comes from Old Fr. _corréer_[73] (_courroyer_), to make ready, put in
order, which represents a theoretical _*con-red-are_, the root syllable
of which is Germanic and cognate with our _ready_. Ger. _gerben_, to
tan, Old High Ger. _garawen_, to make ready, is a derivative of _gar_,
ready, complete, now used only as an adverb meaning "quite," but cognate
with our _yare_--
"Our ship--
Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split--
Is tight, and _yare_, and bravely rigg'd."
(_Tempest_, v. 1.)
Both _curry_ and _gerben_ must have acquired their restricted meaning at
a time when there was literally nothing like leather.
Even in slang we find the same parallelism exemplified. We call an
old-fashioned watch a _turnip_. In German it is called _Zwiebel_, onion,
and in French _oignon_. Eng. _greenhorn_ likens an inexperienced person
to an animal whose horns have just begun to sprout. In Ger.
_Gelbschnabel_, yellow-bill, and Fr. _bec-jaune_, we have the metaphor
of the fledgling. Ludwig explains _Gelbschnabel_ by "chitty-face,"
_chit_, cognate with _kit_-ten, being a general term in Mid. English for
a young animal. From _bec-jaune_ we have archaic Scot. _beejam_,
university freshman. Cotgrave spells the French word _bejaune_, and
gives, as he usually does for such words,[74] a very full gloss, which
happens, by exception, to be quotable--
"A novice; a late prentice to, or young beginner in, a trade, or
art; also, a simple, ignorant, unexperienced, asse; a rude,
unfashioned, home-bred hoydon; a sot, ninny, doult, noddy; one
that's blankt, and hath nought to say, when he hath most need to
speake."
The Englishman intimates that a thing has ceased to please by saying
that he is "fed up" with it. The Frenchman says, "J'en ai soupé." Both
these metaphors are quite modern, but they express in flippant form the
same figure of physical satiety which is as old as language. _Padding_
is a comparatively new word in connection with literary composition, but
it reproduces, with a slightly different meaning, the figure expressed
by _bombast_, lit. wadding, a derivative of Greco-Lat. _bombyx_,
originally "silk-worm," whence also _bombasine_. We may compare also
"_fustian_ eloquence"--
"And he, whose _fustian_'s so sublimely bad,
It is not poetry, but prose run mad."
(POPE, _Prologue to the Satires_, l. 187.)
And a very similar image is found in the Latin poet Ausonius--
"At nos illepidum, rudem libellum,
_Burras_, quisquilias ineptiasque
Credemus gremio cui fovendum?"
(_Drepanio Filio._)
Even to "take the cake" is paralleled by the Gk. {labein ton
pyramounta}, to be awarded the cake of roasted wheat and honey which was
originally the prize of him who best kept awake during a night-watch.
In the proverbial expressions which contain the concentrated wisdom of
the ages we sometimes find exact correspondences. Thus "to look a
gift-horse in the mouth" is literally reproduced in French and German.
Sometimes the symbols vary, _e.g._, the risk one is exposed to in
acquiring goods without examination is called by us "buying a pig in a
poke."[75] French and German substitute the cat. We say that "a cat may
look at a king." The French _dramatis personæ_ are a dog and a bishop.
The "bird in hand" which we regard as the equivalent of two in the bush
is in German compared advantageously with ten on the roof.
[Page Heading: NAUTICAL METAPHOR]
Every language has an immense number of metaphors to describe the
various stages of intoxication. We, as a seafaring nation, have
naturally a set of such metaphors taken from nautical English. In French
and German the state of being "half-seas over" or "three sheets in the
wind," and the practice of "splicing the main-brace" are expressed by
various land metaphors. But the more obvious nautical figures are common
property. We speak of being _stranded_; French says "_échouer_ (to run
ashore) dans une entreprise," and German uses _scheitern_, to strand,
split on a rock, in the same way.
Finally, we observe the same principle in euphemism, or that form of
speech which avoids calling things by their names. Euphemism is the
result of various human instincts which range from religious reverence
down to common decency. There is, however, a special type of euphemism
which may be described as the delicacy of the partially educated. It is
a matter of common observation that for educated people a spade is a
spade, while the more outspoken class prefers to call it a decorated
shovel. Between these two classes come those delicate beings whose work
in life is--
"le retranchement de ces syllabes sales
Qui dans les plus beaux mots produisent des scandales;
Ces jouets éternels des sots de tous les temps;
Ces fades lieux-communs de nos méchants plaisants;
Ces sources d'un amas d'équivoques infâmes,
Dont on vient faire insulte à la pudeur des femmes."
(MOLIÈRE, _Les Femmes savantes_, iii. 2.)
In the United States refined society has succeeded in banning as
improper the word _leg_, which must now be replaced by _limb_, even when
the possessor is a boiled fowl, and this refinement is not unknown in
England. The coloured ladies of Barbados appear to have been equally
sensitive--
"Fate had placed me opposite to a fine turkey. I asked my partner if
I should have the pleasure of helping her to a piece of the breast.
She looked at me indignantly, and said, 'Curse your impudence, sar;
I wonder where you larn manners. Sar, I take a lilly turkey _bosom_,
if you please.'"
(_Peter Simple_, Ch. 31.)
This tendency shows itself especially in connection with the more
intimate garments and articles intended for personal use. We have the
absurd name _pocket handkerchief_, _i.e._, pocket hand-cover-head, for a
comparatively modern convenience, the earlier names of which have more
of the directness of the Artful Dodger's "wipe." Ben Jonson calls it a
_muckinder_. In 1829 the use of the word _mouchoir_ in a French
adaptation of _Othello_ caused a riot at the Comédie Française. History
repeats itself, for, in 1907, a play by J. M. Synge was produced in
Dublin, but--
"The audience broke up in disorder at the word _shift_."
(_Academy_, 14th Oct. 1911.)
This is all the more ludicrous when we reflect that _shift_, _i.e._
change of raiment, is itself an early euphemism for _smock_; _cf._ Ital.
_mutande_, "thinne under-breeches" (Florio), from a country and century
not usually regarded as prudish. The fact is that, just as the low word,
when once accepted, loses its primitive vigour (see _pluck_, p. 83), the
euphemism is, by inevitable association, doomed from its very birth.
[Page Heading: SEMANTIC ETYMOLOGY]
I will now give a few examples of the way in which the study of
semantics helps the etymologist. The _antlers_ of a deer are properly
the lowest branches of the horns, what we now call brow-antlers. The
word comes from Old Fr. _antoilliers_, which answers phonetically to a
conjectured Lat. _*ante-oculares_, from _oculus_, eye. This conjecture
is confirmed by the Ger. _Augensprosse_, brow-antler, lit. eye-sprout.
Eng. _plover_, from Fr. _pluvier_, could come from a Vulgar Lat.
_*pluviarius_, belonging to rain. The German name _Regenpfeifer_, lit.
rain-piper, shows this to be correct. It does not matter,
etymologically, whether the bird really has any connection with rain,
for rustic observation, interesting as it is, is essentially
unscientific. The _honey_suckle is useless to the bee. The _slow-worm_,
which appears to be for _slay-worm_, strike-serpent,[76] is perfectly
harmless, and the toad, though ugly, is not venomous, nor does he bear a
jewel in his head.
_Kestrel_, a kind of hawk, represents Old Fr. _quercerelle_
(_crécerelle_), "a kastrell" (Cotgrave). _Crécerelle_ is a diminutive of
_crécelle_, a rattle, used in Old French especially of the leper's
rattle or clapper, with which he warned people away from his
neighbourhood. It is connected with Lat. _crepare_, to resound. The
Latin name for the kestrel is _tinnunculus_, lit. a little ringer,
derived from the verb _tinnire_, to clink, jingle, "tintinnabulate."
Cooper tells us that "they use to set them (kestrels) in pigeon houses,
to make doves to love the place, bicause they feare away other haukes
with their ringing voyce." This information is obtained from the Latin
agriculturist Columella. This parallel makes it clear that Fr.
_crécerelle_, kestrel, is a metaphorical application of the same word,
meaning a leper's "clicket."
The curious word _akimbo_ occurs first in Mid. English in the form _in
kenebowe_. In half a dozen languages we find this attitude expressed by
the figure of a jug-handle, or, as it used to be called, a pot-ear. The
oldest equivalent is Lat. _ansatus_, used by Plautus, from _ansa_, a
jug-handle. _Ansatus homo_ is explained by Cooper as "a man with his
arms _on kenbow_." Archaic French for to stand with arms akimbo is
"faire le pot a deux _anses_," and the same striking image occurs in
German, Dutch, and Spanish. Hence it seems a plausible conjecture that
_kenebowe_ means "jug-handle." This is confirmed by the fact that Dryden
translates _ansa_, "the eare or handle of a cuppe or pot" (Cooper), by
"_kimbo_ handle" (Vergil, _Ecl._ iii. 44). Eng. _bow_, meaning anything
bent, is used in many connections for handle. The first element may be
_can_, applied to every description of vessel in earlier English, as it
still is in Scottish, or it may be some Scandinavian word. In fact the
whole compound may be Scandinavian. Thomas' _Latin Dictionary_ (1644)
explains _ansatus homo_ as "one that in bragging manner strowteth up and
down with his armes _a-canne-bow_."
[Page Heading: DEMURE--LUGGER]
_Demure_ has been explained as from Mid. Eng. _mure_, ripe, mature, with
prefixed _de_. But _demure_ is the older word of the two, and while the
loss of the atonic first syllable is normal in English (p. 61), it would
be hard to find a case in which a meaningless prefix has been added. Nor
does the meaning of _demure_ approximate very closely to that of ripe.
It now has a suggestion of slyness, but in Milton's time meant sedate--
"Come, pensive nun, devout and pure,
Sober, stedfast, and _demure_."
(_Penseroso_, l. 31.)
and its oldest meaning is calm, settled, used of the sea. When we
consider that it is nearly equivalent to _staid_, earlier _stayed_, and
compare the equivalent terms in other languages, _e.g._, Lat. _sedatus_,
Fr. _rassis_, Ger. _gesetzt_, etc., it seems likely that it is formed
from the Old Norman _demurer_ (_demeurer_), to "stay," just as _stale_
is formed from Old Fr. _estaler_ (_étaler_), to display on a _stall_, or
_trove_, in "treasure _trove_," from Old Fr. _trover_ (_trouver_).
The origin of _lugger_ is unknown, but the word is recorded a century
later than _lugsail_, whence it is probably derived. The explanation of
_lugsail_ as a _sail_ that is _lugged_ seems to be a piece of
folk-etymology. The French for _lugsail_ is _voile de fortune_, and a
still earlier name, which occurs also in Tudor English, is
_bonaventure_, _i.e._, good luck. Hence it is not unreasonable to
conjecture that _lugsail_ stands for _*luck-sail_, just as the name
_Higson_ stands for _Hickson_ (see p. 172).
The _pips_ on cards or dice have nothing to do with apple pips. The
oldest spelling is _peeps_. In the Germanic languages they are called
"eyes," and in the Romance languages "points"; and the Romance
derivatives of Lat. _punctus_, point, also mean "_peep_ of day." Hence
the _peeps_ are connected with the verb to _peep_.
The game called _dominoes_ is French, and the name is taken from the
phrase _faire domino_, to win the game. _Domino_, a hooded cloak worn by
priests in winter, is an Italian word, apparently connected with Lat.
_dominus_. French also has, in various games, the phrase _faire capot_,
with a meaning like that of _faire domino_. _Capot_, related to Eng.
_cap_ and Fr. _chapeau_, means properly a hooded cloak. The two
metaphors are quite parallel, but it is impossible to say what was the
original idea. Perhaps it was that of extinguishing the opponent by
putting, as it were, his head in a bag.
The card game called _gleek_ is often mentioned in Tudor literature. It
is derived from Old Fr. _glic_, used by Rabelais, and the word is very
common in the works of the more disreputable French poets of the 15th
century. According to French archaeologists the game was also called
_bonheur_, _chance_, _fortune_, and _hasard_. Hence _glic_ represents in
all probability Ger. _Glück_, luck.[77] The Old French form _ghelicque_
would correspond to Mid. High Ger. _gelücke_. The history of _tennis_
(p. 10) and _trump_ (p. 9) shows that it is not necessary to find the
German word recorded in the same sense.
[Page Heading: SENTRY]
The word _sentry_, which occurs in English only, has no connection at
all with _sentinel_, the earliest form of which is Ital. _sentinella_,
of unknown origin. The older lexicographers obscured the etymology of
_sentry_, which is really quite simple, by always attempting to treat
it along with _sentinel_. It is a common phenomenon in military
language that the abstract name of an action is applied to the building
or station in which the action is performed, then to the group of men
thus employed, and finally to the individual soldier. Thus Lat.
_custodia_ means (1) guardianship, (2) a ward-room, watch-tower, (3) the
watch collectively, (4) a watchman. Fr. _vigie_, the look-out man on
board ship, can be traced back in a similar series of meanings to Lat.
_vigilia_, watching.[78] A _sentry_, now a single soldier, was formerly
a band of soldiers--
"What strength, what art can then
Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe
Through the strict _senteries_ and stations thick
Of angels watching round?"
(_Paradise Lost_, ii. 410.)
and earlier still a watch-tower, _e.g._, Cotgrave explains Old Fr.
_eschauguette_ (_échauguette_) as "a _sentrie_, watch-tower, beacon."
The purely abstract sense survives in the phrase "to keep _sentry_"
_i.e._ guard--
"Here toils, and Death, and Death's half-brother, Sleep,
Forms terrible to view their _centry_[79] keep."
(DRYDEN, _Æneid_, vi. 277.)
It is a contracted form of _sanctuary_. In the 17th century it is a
pretty familiar word in this sense.[79] The earliest example I have come
across is in Nashe--
"He hath no way now to slyppe out of my hands, but to take _sentrie_
in the Hospital of Warwick."
(First Part of PASQUIL'S _Apologie_, 1590.)
Fr. _guérite_, a sentry box, can be traced back in the same way to Old
Fr. _garir_ (_guérir_), to save. Cotgrave explains it as "a place of
refuge, and of safe retyrall," also "a _sentrie_, or little lodge for a
sentinell, built on high." It is to this latter sense that we owe Eng.
_garret_. In medieval French _guérite_ means refuge, sanctuary--
"Ceste roche est Ihesucrist meismes qui est li refuges et la
_garite_ aus humbles."[80]
If French had not borrowed _sentinelle_ from Italian, _guérite_ would
probably now mean "sentry"; _cf._ the history of _vigie_ (p. 103), or of
_vedette_, a cavalry sentry, but originally "a prying or peeping hole"
(Florio), from Ital. _vedere_, to see.
FOOTNOTES:
[63] Parchment (see p. 49) was invented as a substitute when the supply
of papyrus failed.
[64] The "stick" meaning survives in the _yards_ of a ship. _Yard_ was
once the general word for rod, wand. Thus the "cheating _yardwand_" of
Tennyson's "smooth-faced snubnosed rogue" (_Maud_, I. i. 16) is a
pleonasm of the same type as _greyhound_ (p. 135). _Yard_, an enclosure,
is a separate word, related to _garden_. The doublet _garth_, used in
the Eastern counties, is of Scandinavian origin--
"I climb'd to the top of the _garth_, and stood by the road at the
gate."
(TENNYSON, _The Grandmother_, l. 38.)
[65] As Old Fr. _uissier_ has given _usher_, I would suggest that the
family names _Lush_ and _Lusher_, which Bardsley (_Dict. of English
Surnames_) gives up, are for Old Fr. _l'uis_ (cf. _Laporte_) and
_l'uissier_. In modern French _Lhuissier_ is not an uncommon name.
[66] The _onion_, Fr. _oignon_, Lat. _unio_, _union-_, is so named
because successive skins form an harmonious one-ness. It is a doublet of
_union_.
[67] Perhaps a diminutive of Cymric _bele_, marten, but felt as from Fr.
_belle_.
[68] Dozens of similar names for the weasel could be collected from the
European languages and dialects. It is probable that these complimentary
names were propitiatory, the weasel being an animal regarded with
superstitious dread.
[69] Cf. _Prester_ John, the fabulous priest monarch of Ethiopia.
[70] Cf. _lordly_, _princely_, etc., and Ger. _herrisch_, imperious,
from _Herr_, sir.
[71] Modern Fr. _écrou_ is used only in the sense of prison register.
[72] The vowel is not so great a difficulty as it might appear, and we
actually have the same change in _comrade_ itself, formerly pronounced
_cumrade_. In the London pronunciation the _u_ of such words as _but_,
_cup_, _hurry_, etc., represents roughly a continental short _a_. This
fact, familiar to phoneticians but disbelieved by others, is one of the
first peculiarities noted by foreigners beginning to learn English. It
is quite possible that _chum_ is an accidental spelling for _*cham_,
just as we write _bungalow_ for _bangla_ (Bengal), _pundit_ for
_pandit_, and _Punjaub_ for _Panjab_, five rivers, whence also probably
the liquid called _punch_, from its five ingredients. _Cf._ also
American to _slug_, _i.e._ to _slog_, which appears to represent Du.
_slag_, blow--"That was for _slugging_ the guard" (Kipling, _An Error in
the Fourth Dimension_)--and the adjective _bluff_, from obsolete Du.
_blaf_, broad-faced.
[73] _Array_, Old Fr. _arréer_, is related.
[74] This is a characteristic of the old dictionary makers. The gem of
my collection is Ludwig's gloss for _Lümmel_, "a long lubber, a lazy
lubber, a slouch, a lordant, a lordane, a looby, a booby, a tony, a fop,
a dunce, a simpleton, a wise-acre, a sot, a logger-head, a block-head, a
nickampoop, a lingerer, a drowsy or dreaming lusk, a pill-garlick, a
slowback, a lathback, a pitiful sneaking fellow, a lungis, a tall slim
fellow, a slim longback, a great he-fellow, a lubberly fellow, a lozel,
an awkward fellow."
[75] _Poke_, sack, is still common in dialect, _e.g._ in the Kentish
hop-gardens. It is a doublet of _pouch_, and its diminutive is _pocket_.
[76] The meaning of _worm_ has degenerated since the days of the
_Lindwurm_, the dragon slain by Siegfried. The Norse form survives in
_Great Orme's Head_, the dragon's head.
[77] Some derive it from Ger. _gleich_, like, used of a "flush."
[78] This is why so many French military terms are feminine, e.g.,
_recrue_, _sentinelle_, _vedette_, etc.
[79] Skinner's _Etymologicon_ (1671) has the two entries, _centry_ pro
_sanctuary_ and _centry_ v. _sentinel_. The spellings _centry_ and
_centinel_, which were common when the words still had a collective
sense, are perhaps due to some fancied connection with _century_, a
hundred soldiers.
[80] "This rock is Jesus Christ himself, who is the refuge and sanctuary
of the humble."