Category: English

Unapologetic Accents

By Simon

According to a story on the BBC News, a performance of Shakespeare’s As You Like It wasn’t to the taste of one member of the audience at the Theatre Royal in York, who objected to Yorkshire accents being used, left during the performance and later asked for a refund.

The company responsible for the play, Northern Broadsides, said that its performances contained “unapologetic northern voices”, and the manager of the theatre apparently said “That’s Yorkshire accents, right here in Yorkshire”.

Here’s a trailer for the performance:

What is the world coming to when a theatregoer is subjected to northern accents in a Shakespeare play?

As everybody knows, Shakespeare should be performed with Received Pronounciation (RP), not with any other accent. After all, that’s how actors in Shakespeare’s time spoke, isn’t it?

Well no, English sounded it bit different back then, and many rhymes and puns in Shakespeare work in reconstructed Original Pronunciation (OP), but not in RP. Here’s an example of the differences between RP and OP:

The actor here is Ben Crystal, and his father, David Crystal, reconstructed the Original Pronunciation of Shakespeare, and is a honorary professor of linguistics at Bangor University, where I studied.

More about OP:

Sleeve Monkeys

By Simon

There’s an interesting idiom in Dutch – Nu komt de aap uit de mouw – which means ‘now the monkey comes out of the sleeve’ and is roughly the equivalent of the English idioms to let the cat out of the bag and to spill the beans. They mean to reveal a secret, or to reveal one’s true intentions.

opdracht 10 De aap komt uit de mouw DSC_1804

Other versions of the Dutch idiom include:

  1. De aap springt uit de mouw = The monkey jumps out of the sleeve
  2. De aap kijkt uit de mouw = The monkey looks out of the sleeve
  3. De aap uit de mouw schudden = To shake the monkey out of the sleeve
  4. Toen kwam de aap uit de mouw = Then the money came out of the sleeve = Then the true meaning became clear
  5. Hij heeft de aap in de mouw = He has the monkey up his sleeve = He’s sneaky (hides his true nature)

The origins of the idiom to let the cat out of the bag are uncertain, although we do know it was first used in writing in The London Magazine in 1760 [source].

The origins of the idiom to spill the beans are also uncertain. It was first used in American in the early 20th century, so it’s unlikely to have come from the Ancient Greek practice of using coloured beans to vote, as many sources claim [source].

The Dutch idioms come from the practice of performers hiding an actual monkey up their sleeves which would appear unexpectedly at a certain moment. Alternatively they might refer to our inner ape/monkey or mischievous character which is usually hidden metaphorically up our sleeve [source].

Are there any similar idioms in other languages?

Sources: Reverso, Ensie

Enlisted Fathers

By Simon

As today is St Patrick’s Day, I thought I’d look into the origins of the name Patrick.

Happy St Patrick's Day / Lá ḟéile Pádraig sona ḋuit! / Dydd Gwyl Padrig Hapus

Patrick comes from the Latin name Patricius, which comes from the word patricius (patrician, noble), from patrēs cōnscrīptī (Roman senators, or literally “enlisted fathers”) [source].

patrēs is the plural of pater (father, head of household, parent, forefather, priest), which comes from the Proto-Italic *patēr (father), from the Proto-Indo-European *ph₂tḗr (father), from *peh₂- (to protect, shepherd) and‎ *-tḗr (agent suffix) [source].

Another word that comes from pater is patronus, which in the magical world of Harry Potter is a spirit guardian that can be summoned with the charm Expecto Patronum [source]. This is genunine Latin and means “I await my protector” [source].

cōnscrīptī is the plural of cōnscrīptus (senator, counsel(l)or; enrolled, enlisted, composed), which comes from conscrībō (I enroll, enlist, draw up, compose), from con- (with), and‎ scrībō (I write) [source].

The English word conscript (One who is compulsorily enrolled, often into a military service) comes from the same Latin root [source].

Charlatan Snake Oil

By Simon

The term snake oil is used to refer to a scam, a fraudulent medicine or remedy, or deceptive marketing. It was first appeared in writing in 1858 in the USA. In Georgia, for example, snake oil was sold as a folk remedy for rheumatism and gout, and it was said to be a cure for deafness in parts of Pennsylvania.

Snake Oil

Some such remedies contained oil made from the fat of snakes, especially rattlesnakes, but many didn’t. In the early 20th century such products started to be condemned in professional pharmacy journals as they didn’t contain any snake oil at all. As a result the term snake oil became associated with phony remedies and quackery [source].

In French snake oil is known as remède de charlatan (charlatan medicine) or poudre de perlimpinpin (perlimpinpin powder).

The word charlatan (quack (doctor), charlatan), comes from the Italian ciarlatano (charlatan, quack), from ciarlatore (chatterer) and cerretano (hawker, quack). The latter term means literally a “native of Cerreto”, and is the root of this word because the Italian village of Cerreto di Spoleto in Umbria in the province of Perugia was once widely known for its quacks.

Arrived in Umbria. Some views from our rental in the hills of Cerreto di Spoleto in de Valnerina valley. Lovely nature, birds and cicadas as background music.

Perlimpinpin [pɛʁ.lɛ̃.pɛ̃.pɛ̃] is one of the French names for Rumpelstiltskin, a company that makes children’s clothes, a restaurant in Paris, and probably others things. The origins of the word are uncertain. According to one theory, it’s a combination of prêle (horsetail – Equisetum hyemale) and pimpin (Pandanus montanus – a type of tree from the island of Réunion), two plants that were used as in a herbal medicine in 17th century France [source].

Perapera

By Simon

In Japanese if you speak a language fluently you can say that it is ペラペラ (perapera). This is one of the many onomatopeic or mimetic words used in Japanese, and it has come up in some of the Japanese lessons I’ve been studying on Duolingo recently, so I thought I’d write about it.

Erigeron karvinskianus ペラペラヨメナ

ペラペラ, which is also written ぺらぺら, can also mean speaking incessantly, glibly, garrulously or volubly; flipping through pages one after the other or thin, flimsy or weak paper, cloth, etc.

For example:

  • 日本語がペラペラになりたいです。 (Nihongo ga perapera ni naritai desu) = I want to be fluent in Japanese.
  • 彼は英語がペラペラだ。(Kare wa eigo ga perapera da) = He has a good command of English / He speaks Englsh fluently.
  • ペラペラしゃべり続ける (perapera shaberi tsudzukeru) = to rattle on
  • ペラペラまくしたてる (perapera makushitateru) = to talk a mile a minute
  • ペラペラという音 (perapera to iu oto) = a fluttering sound, flip-flap
  • ペラペラとうそをつく (perapera to uso o tsuku) = to lie glibly/fluently
  • ペラペラの段ボール (perapera no dan bōru) = flimsy / corrugated cardboard

ペラペラヨメナ (perapera yomena) is a type of flower (see photo above), which is known in English as a Latin American fleabane, Karwinsky’s fleabane or Mexican daisy. In Latin it is Erigeron karvinskianus: erigeron comes from the Ancient Greek ἠριγέρων (ērigérōn “groundsel”), from ἦρι (êri, “early in the morning”) and γέρων (gérōn, “old man”), and karvinskianus is named after Wilhelm Friedrich Karwinsky von Karwin (1780-1855), who was a Bavarian naturalist who collected plants and animals in Brazil and Mexico.

Sources: Duolingo, Jisho.org, 英辞郎 on the WEB, Wiktionary

Fiery Lakes

By Simon

The French idiom Il n’y a pas le feu au lac [il n‿j‿a pa l(ə) fø o lak], or literally “There’s no fire on the lake”, is used when there is no hurry to do something. It could be translated as “What’s the big hurry?”, “What’s the rush?” or “Where’s the fire?”.

Fire Fountains

It has been used since the mid-20th century and apparently refers to Lac Léman (Lake Geneva) in Switzerland and the inability of Swiss people to hurry even in an emergency. It is also sarcastic in suggesting that water might be on fire [source].

Variations on this idiom, and phrases with similar meanings, include:

  • Il n’y a pas le feu = There’s no fire (on the lake)
  • Ya pas l’feu = There’s no fire (informal pronunciation)
  • Il n’y a pas de quoi paniquer = There’s no reason to panic
  • Il n’y a pas de quoi fouetter un chat = That’s not a reason to whip a cat
  • Rien ne presse = There’s no hurry, there’s no need to hurry
  • Ça ne presse pas = There’s no hurry / rush

Are there any interesting idioms in other languages involving fiery lakes?

Stellar Stars

By Simon

Stars

Here’s an interesting question that I was sent to me by email:
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I am curious as to why some of the languages that developed from Latin had to put an extra ‘e’ at the start of some of their words.

Here are some examples:

Latin Italian French Spanish English
stēlla stella étoile estrella star
status stato état estado state
spero speranza espère esperanza hope
spōnsa sposa épouse esposa wife

It looks as if the Gauls, and the people living in the Iberian peninsula, couldn’t cope with the st- and sp- beginnings, and had to stick an ‘e’ on the front. Is this because words in the Celtic languages they spoke didn’t have such beginnings? I can’t find any similar words in modern Welsh.
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Incidentally, the words for hope have a cognate in English – esperance, which is a old word for hope or expectation [source], and the ones for wife have a cognate in spouse (husband, wife).

Let’s look at the origins of some of these words to see how they have changed over time.

The Latin word stēlla (star), comes from the Proto-Italic *stērolā (star), from Proto-Indo-European *h₂stḗr (star). This became estoile/esteile/estelle in Old French, and estoile in Middle French. It was (e)strela in Old Portuguese and estrella in Old Spanish So the extra e has been there for a while [source].

In Proto-Celtic the word for star was *sterā, from the same PIE root as the Latin stēlla. This became *ster in Proto-Brythonic, Old Breton and Old Cornish, and ster in modern Breton and Cornish. So at least some speakers of Celtic languages could cope with the initial st-. In Old Welsh it was *ser, in Middle Welsh it was ser / syr, and in modern Welsh it’s sêr. It was also borrowed into Old Irish as ser [source].

The Latin word status means state, status, condition, position, place or rank. It became estat in Old French, from which we get the English word estate. Meanwhile in Old Spanish it was (e)strela, and in Old Portuguese it was estado [source].

It was borrowed into Old Irish as stad (stop, stay, delay), which is the same in modern Irish [source]. Proto-Brythonic borrowed it as *ɨstad from the Vulgar Latin *istatus, this became (y)stad / (y)stât in Middle Welsh and ystad (state, condition, situation) in modern Welsh [source].

Do any of you have any thoughts on this question?

Lillilu

By Simon

This week I wrote a new song – a lullaby inspired by learning that a Scots word for lullaby is lillilu. This is also written lilly-loo or lilli-lu, and an extended version is lillila-baloo [source].

baby sleep

Here’s a recording of the song:

This got me wondering about whether there are interesting words meaning lullaby in other languages. Here are some I found:

  • French: berceuse – from bercer (to craddle, rock), from the Old French bercier (to rock), from Vulgar Latin *bertiāre, from Gaulish, from Proto-Celtic *berta- (to shake)
  • Irish: suantraí – from suan (sleep) and -traí (type of music)
  • Italian: ninnananna (onomatopoetic)
  • Portuguese: canção de ninar (sleep song) – ninar = to sing to sleep, canção de embalar (rocking song)
  • Spanish: canción de cuna (cradle song), nana (lullaby, wet nurse, nursemaid), arrurrú – from arrullo (cooing, murmur, lullaby)
  • Welsh: hun-gân (sleep song), (si-)lwli (onomatopoetic), su(o)-gân (lulling song), hwian-gân (murmur song)

Do you know of any other interesting ones?

Gadwaddicking Gads

By Simon

If someone told you they were going to gadwaddick, what do you think they meant?

jaunting cars

Here are a few possible meanings of to gadwaddick:

  1. to drag or tail along, to walk draggingly
  2. to go on a pleasure trip, to jaunt, to gad about
  3. to saunter, to walk slowly and clumsily

It is in fact the second, and is used in Norfolk dialect in the east of England. The first definition is for the word to drail, which is used in Gloucestershire, Wiltshire, Dorest, Somerset in the the southwest of English, and the third definition is for the word to dadge, which comes from the dialects of Northumbria and Cumbria in the north of England.

These words all come from The English dialect dictionary by Joseph Wright, which was published in 1900.

A gadabout is someone who restlessly moves from place to place, seeking amusement or the companionship of others, or in other words, someone who gads about [source], or gadwaddick about in Norfolk.

The verb to gad means “to move from one location to another in an apparently random and frivolous manner”. It comes from the Middle English word gadden (to hurry, to rush about) [source].

A gad is a greedy and/or stupid person, at least in northern England and Scotland, and comes from the Middle English gade (a fool, simpleton, rascal, scoundrel), from the Old English gada (fellow, companion, comrade, associate), from the Proto-West Germanic *gadō, from the Proto-Germanic *gadô/*gagadô (companion, associate), from the Proto-Indo-European *gʰedʰ- (to join, unite) [source].

Language Politics

By Simon

Part of the process of learning a new language involves learning about the people who speak it, and about their culture(s), history and so on. You might also find yourself involved in the politics of when and how the language is used, especially if you’re learning a minority / endangered / revived language, or a non-standard version of a major language. This is certainly the case for the Celtic languages I’ve studied.

Sign on the walls of Conwy

You might be told that there’s no point in learning a Celtic language as everybody who speaks them also speaks English, or in the case of Breton, French. This is not in fact true – there are people in Patagonia in Argentina who speak Welsh and Spanish, but not English, and there are some people who have learnt a Celtic language who don’t speak English or French.

People may object to children being ‘forced’ to learn such ‘useless’ languages in school, or they may complain that they had to learn them in school. Well, education usually involves learning things that you might have little or no interest in, but you never know, maybe it will be useful to know them one day.

Critics of minority languages might come from the country or region where they are spoken, but not feel part of the local culture as they don’t speak the local language. In Wales, for example, non-Welsh-speaking people are sometimes told by Welsh speakers that they are less Welsh or basically English. Fortunately this is not a common view among Welsh speakers. Also, people who don’t speak such languages could learn them, and will find that most native speakers will be support their efforts.

Also, why are they spending our taxes to support those useless languages? That’s a comment that often crops up whenever there’s discussion of bilingual or minority language education, bilingual signage and other material, and any other initiatives to support minority languages. Speakers of minority languages also pay taxes, you know.

Have you encountered any such linguistic politics?

Here’s an example of an article that discusses some of these issues.