On August 23, I appeared on the “Midmorning” show on
Minnesota Public Radio. Many of
you called in with questions, to some of which I could give immediate answers.
But, the origin of several words I did not remember offhand and I promised to
look them up in my database. Since
I mentioned the existence of this column, a few more queries and comments were
sent, but they reached me so late that this extra long edition of the Monthly
Gleanings was moved to the first week of September. And so, without further ado, here are my responses.
First the suffix -ster:
Do foster, holster, and spinster
style='font-style:normal'> have the same suffix? Words of different origins may end in -ster
style='font-style:normal'>: consider master,
style='font-style:normal'> poster (= post-er), shyster,
style='font-style:normal'> lobster,
and roadster.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> From a historical point of view, only
the last of them is made up of a root (road
style='font-style:normal'>-) + -ster. The suffix -ster
style='font-style:normal'> goes back to Old English -estre,
style='font-style:normal'> and some disagreement exists as to whether it could
originally occur only in occupational terms designating women’s
professions. Some names of men’s
professions undoubtedly had it, but the overwhelming number of such nouns in
Old English was feminine. We can
see this suffix preserved in several modern last names, by far the most famous
of them being Webster (early
“websters,” that is, weavers, like
tapsters, were women). It is not
clear why -ster eventually
acquired a derogatory meaning (cf. rhymester, trickster,
style='font-style:normal'> and the like, though youngster
style='font-style:normal'> and teamster are stylistically neutral) and why it enjoyed special productivity in
American English (here the best-known examples are gangster
style='font-style:normal'> and pollster; and roadster is not even
a human being). Holster
style='font-style:normal'> and upholster are from (up)hold-ster.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Foster
style='font-style:normal'> (noun) meant “nourishment”; it consists of the old root
of food followed by a suffix,
whose most ancient form is believed to have been -trom.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> The verb is from the noun.
How persuasive is the hypothesis that the word jazz
style='font-style:normal'> owes its origin to the fact that the steamboat JS
traveled the Mississippi River between New Orleans and St. Paul, playing music
for its passengers in the early 1900’s?
Jazz would then come out
as “JS music.” Almost all popular
derivations from acronyms (unless they are obviously such, as is snafu,
style='font-style:normal'> for example) are wrong. I would like to quote two notes from the Historical
style='font-style:normal'> Magazine
(1862, pp. 58-59 and 93), a specialized American version of Notes and
Queries (excellent reading, by the way).
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 1. “Philadelphia has long enjoyed the
reputation of a peculiar cake called the apee.
style='font-style:normal'>
Thousands who partake of them have no conception of the origin of their
name. Ann Page,
lately living under another name and business, first made them, many years ago,
under the common name of cakes.
The aged may remember her small frame house in Second-street
style='font-weight:normal'>, two doors north of Carter’s alley.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> On her cakes she impressed the letters
A. P., the initials of her name; and from this cause, ever since the initials
have been disused on them, the cakes have continued to be called apees.”
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 2. “As the invention of these cakes has
been thought worthy of commemoration in the Historical Magazine,
style='font-style:normal'> it may be well to give the first maker’s name
correctly. It was Mrs. Ann
Palmer, not Price.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> She kept a cake shop in Chestnut-street
style='font-weight:normal'>, between Second and Third streets, and was the mother
of the late Richard Palmer, Sen. ….”
Ann Page? Ann Price?
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Ann Palmer? Second Street?
Chestnut Street? Our
withers are unwrung, for the initials will still come out as A. P.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Most probably, the etymology of apee
(the name of a cake of which I, regrettably, have never partaken) is
trustworthy, but it is curious to observe how two contemporary reports differ
in details. When it comes to
anecdotes of older times, most do not bear scrutiny. I think that if jazz had
any connection with the JS steamboat, the word would have been jaycee
style='font-style:normal'> or jaysee.
The literature on jazz
is rich but inconclusive. The word
surfaced in 1913, not in 1909, as is stated in the Second edition of the OED
style='font-style:normal'>. Its
origin and its application to music are different issues.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> According to the latest researches, the
music we associate with jazz appeared in California, spread to Chicago, and
from there to New Orleans. This
fact weakens but does not invalidate the theories that seek the home of jazz
style='font-style:normal'> in Creole French. Two French words have been proposed as the etymons of jazz:
chasser “chase, hunt,” with the implication
“look alive, speed up, make wild movements” and jaser
style='font-style:normal'> “chatter like a magpie, jabber.”
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Although it is possible that the
California musicians knew the traditions and music of the South, the French
origin of jazz should not be
taken for granted, the more so as neither chasser
style='font-style:normal'> not jaser
looks like a convincing source of the English word (the meanings are too
divergent). The idea that jazz
is traceable to Jersey
style='font-style:normal'>, as has once been suggested, seems to me quite
improbable. Jazz
style='font-style:normal'> is, most likely, not a word of African descent, and
it does not go back to the names Chas, Jasbo (Brown),
style='font-style:normal'> or Jasper. It was at one time
spelled jas, jass, jazz, jasz, jascz,
style='font-style:normal'> and with initial ch-.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Those
variants look like attempts to write down a word known only from oral
transmission. The verb jazz
style='font-style:normal'> must have existed before the corresponding noun and
long before it was applied to a certain type of syncopated music.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Whether it ever referred to sexual intercourse
(compare the thinly disguised meaning of rock ‘n’ roll
style='font-style:normal'>) cannot be decided. In any case, the derivation of jazz
style='font-style:normal'> from ja(m)s (such a hypothesis exists too) does not carry conviction.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Jazz
style='font-style:normal'>sounds like some other expressive words, for example,
razzmatazz, quiz, and whiz.
style='font-style:normal'> They
may have sprung up as did spiflicate
(about which see below), virtually from nothing.
While speaking about universally known words whose origin is
still undiscovered, I mentioned glitch,
which, in my opinion, became popular thanks to its use in computer work.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> One of the listeners wrote that glitch,
style='font-style:normal'> perhaps an acronym like snafu,
style='font-style:normal'> had arisen in military slang soon after World War
II. American English glitch
style='font-style:normal'> indeed predates the computer era, but, according to
the OED, the earliest occurrence
of it in texts goes back to 1962.
It seems to have emerged with the meaning “a sudden surge of current” in
aerospace engineering and is not an acronym, but its history is uncertain.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> One often meets with the
conjecture that glitch is of Yiddish
origin (glitsch).
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> This derivation may be right, but it is
not more persuasive than the derivation of jazz
style='font-style:normal'> from chasser and jaser.
I was asked whether I know anything about the verb spiflicate
style='font-style:normal'> “confound; mishandle; destroy.”
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> I knew nothing, but I am sorry that I
did not cite the verb smifligate,
which I remembered at once. I am
sorry, because now no one, except those with whom I spoke later in the studio,
will believe that I knew it. But I
did. It occurs in Dickens’s Nicholas
Nickleby, and I quoted the relevant passage
in one of my articles. Mrs.
Nickleby, Nicholas’s mother, has been enticed to go to the theater, and two
minor villains (Pyke and Pluck) are there to wait on the silly woman.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> This is how the events developed: “…and
so polite were they, that Mr. Pyke threatened with many oaths to ‘smifligate’ a
very old man with a lantern who accidentally stumbled in her way—to the
great terror of Mrs. Nickleby, who, conjecturing more from Mr. Pyke’s
excitement than any previous acquaintance with the etymology of the word that
smifligation and bloodshed must be in the main one and the same thing, was
alarmed beyond expression, lest something should occur.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Fortunately, however, Mr. Pyke confined
himself to mere verbal smifligation, and they reached the box with no more
serious interruption by the way, than a desire on the part of the same
pugnacious gentleman to ‘smash’ the assistant box-keeper for happening to
mistake the number” (Chapter 27).
On the radio I only said that the verb is probably a fanciful
formation. Spiflicate
style='font-style:normal'> can be found in the OED,
style='font-style:normal'> and it turned out that this funny word had some
currency in the 19th century, but no other example of smifligate
style='font-style:normal'> has been recorded. As to my article, I finished it with the invitation: “Those
with a taste for such problems are humbly requested to discover the exact
meaning and origin of the verb smifligate.”
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> I could not imagine that my offer would
return to me like a boomerang. The
OED suggests that both verbs are
fanciful formations and thus uses the same formula I did.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> What is good for the OED
style='font-style:normal'> is, as a rule, good for me.
Another query
was about shenanigans.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> I answered that the word sounds
Celtic. My sources revealed that
it sounded Celtic to many.
However, its origin is enveloped in absolute obscurity.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Shenanigans
style='font-style:normal'> was first attested in American English and has been
traced to Irish, Mexican Spanish, regional English (which does not exclude
Irish as its source), and, most forcefully, to German.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> The situation is the same as with jazz
style='font-style:normal'> and glitch. Arrows are shot into the
air and fall to earth we know not where.
I think that what I said about uff da,
style='font-style:normal'>an interjection people of Norwegian descent often use
in this country, is correct.
Strange as it may seem, many common interjections are borrowed bookish
words. Ouch
style='font-style:normal'>and oops
are of this type. Someone in pain
will not yell (holler): “Ouch!” Uff
style='font-style:normal'> sounds almost like Engl. oof
style='font-style:normal'> and exactly like German and Russian uf.
style='font-style:normal'> It is
hardly a “natural” cry. A letter
to the blog pointed out that da “there”
in uff da may have been added for
emphasis. This is undoubtedly
true. Compare English
conversational this here ~ that there man and their exact analogue in Norwegian (den der
style='font-style:normal'>) and Swedish.
It is no wonder that I was unable to satisfy every listener
on the spur of the moment. There
is little one can say about those words, and who can remember the content of a
huge database? But I regret that I
misheard the word chthonic, even though
the listener spelled it. I only
said that it sounded Greek to me (no pun intended). Not only do I know what chthonic
style='font-style:normal'> means (it is indeed Greek); I constantly use it when
speaking in my course “Scandinavian Myths” about chthonic deities, that is, the
gods connected with the earth and controlling death. I even feel some pride that I can pronounce it correctly (in
English the first two letters are mute).
Pride (like grace) before the fall. I received a letter explaining the adjective and was touched
by its gentle, forgiving tone.
Thus, with regard to spiflicate and especially chthonic
I could have done much better.
Perhaps next time.
The last question for today is more theoretical, and I’ll
copy its beginning. “How would one
go about tracing the spread of a word?
I’m thinking specifically of the word sandwich.
style='font-style:normal'> I’m
aware of the origin with the Earl of Sandwich, and even a contemporary mention
in a travel diary. What I have not
been able to find is any information on how the word spread from apparently a
single mention to what seems to be worldwide usage.” The information in the OED
style='font-style:normal'>is as follows: “Said to be named after John Montagu,
4th Earl of Sandwich
(1718-1792), who once spent twenty-four hours at the gaming table without other
refreshment than some slices of cold beef placed between slices of toast.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> This account of the origin of the word
is given by Grosley Londres
(1770) I. 262. Grosley’s residence
in London was in 1765, and he speaks of the word as having then lately come
into use.” The earliest citation
with the word sandwich is dated
1762 (it refers to a gathering of twenty or thirty “best men in the kingdom…
supping on a bit of cold meat, or a Sandwich”). In the 1771 citation sandwich
style='font-style:normal'> is also capitalized, but Jane Austen, writing at the
turn of the century, uses the low case letter. To her, sandwich
was no longer a proper noun.
The question about the spread of a word (any new word) goes
far beyond the history of sandwich.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> In every innovation, two processes
should be distinguished: the emergence of the novelty and its acceptance by the
public (its rejection can be disregarded, for if the novelty has not “found
favor” with a relatively wide circle, nothing can be known about it).
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> This is equally true of fashions and
words. However hard it may be to
account for the birth of a word, it is sometimes even harder to explain its
unexpected popularity. What is
there in cool that it has
conquered half of the world?
Familiar words from names go all the way from champagne
style='font-style:normal'> to Kalashnikov. (Note the use of small
and capital letters!). In the
history of foodstuffs, prestige and the quality of the product play a role in
the “brand name’s” staying power.
“The best men of the kingdom” added ceremony to “supping on a bit of
cold meat,” and others tried to emulate their superiors. Sandwiches inaugurated
fast foods (precursors of our burgers) and were doomed to success.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> But in language very much depends on
chance. Sandwich
style='font-style:normal'> had good luck.
It could have shared the fate of the now forgotten apee.
Anatoly Liberman is the author of Word Origins…And How We Know Them. His column on word origins, The Oxford Etymologist, appears here each Wednesday. Send your etymology question to blog.us@oup.com; he’ll do his best to avoid responding with “origin unknown.”
