Horses, chariots and cars

Horses at Newborough on Anglesey - photo by Simon Ager

Today I saw a post on Facebook asking why words for horse are so different in languages like English and German, so I thought I’d investigate.

In English horse-related words include horse, stallion (male horse), mare (female horse), foal (young horse), filly (young female horse), colt (young male horse), pony (a small breed of horse), palfrey (a small horse with a smooth, ambling gait) and equine (a horse or horse-like animal; related to horses).

Horse comes from the Middle English horse / hors, from the Old English hors (horse), from the Proto-Germanic *hrussą (horse), from the Proto-Indo-European *ḱr̥sos (horse), from Proto-Indo-European *ḱers- (to run) [source]. This is also the root of the Proto-Celtic word *karros (wagon), from which we get the Latin currus (chariot, wagon), and the English words car, cart and chariot, and related words in other languages.

Stallion comes from the Middle English stalion, from the Middle French estalon and is of Germanic origin [source].

Mare comes from the Middle English mare / mere, from the Old English mere / miere (female horse, mare), from the Proto-Germanic *marhijō (female horse) [source].

Foal comes from the Middle English fole, from the Old English fola, from the Proto-Germanic *fulô, from the Proto-Indo-European *pōlH- (animal young) [source]

Filly comes from the Old Norse fylja [source].

Colt comes from the Old English colt (young donkey, young camel), from the Proto-Germanic *kultaz (plump; stump; thick shape, bulb), from the Proto-Indo-European *gelt- (something round, pregnant belly, child in the womb), from *gel- (to ball up, amass) [source].

Pony comes from the Scots powny, from the Middle French poulenet (little foal), from the Late Latin pullanus (young of an animal), from pullus (foal) [source].

Palfrey comes from the Anglo-Norman palefrei (steed), from the Old French palefroi, from the Late Latin paraverēdus (post horse, spare horse) [source].

Equine comes from the Latin equīnus (of or pertaining to horses), from equus (horse) [source].

The equivalent words in other European languages include:

Germanic languages

  German Dutch Danish Norwegian Swedish Icelandic
horse Pferd Paard hest hest häst hestur
stallion Hengst hengst hingst hingst hingst graðhestur
mare Stute merrie hoppe hoppe sto
märr
hryssa
foal Fohlen veulen føl føll
fole
föl folald

The German word Pferd and the Dutch paard come from the Middle High German phert / pherit / pferift (riding horse), from the Old High German pherit / pfarifrit / parafred, from the Late Latin paraverēdus (substitute post horse) [source], from para-, from the Ancient Greek παρά (from, by, near) & verēdus (a fast or light breed of horse), from the Proto-Celtic *uɸorēdos (horse) [source], *uɸo- (under) & *rēdo- (to ride; riding, chariot), from the Proto-Indo-European *(H)reydʰ- (to ride) [source].

The words hengst and hingst come from the Proto-Indo-European *ḱanḱest- / *kankest- (horse), which is also the root of the Welsh, Cornish and Breton words for mare, and of the Old English word for horse or stallion, hengest.

Romance / Italic languages

  French Italian Romanian Spanish Portuguese Latin
horse cheval cavallo cal caballo cavalo equus
stallion étalon stalone armăsar padrillo garanhão celo
mare jument giumenta
cavalla
iapă yegua égua equa
foal poulain puldero mânz potro potro equuleus
equulus
pullus
vitulus

In Latin there was another word for horse – caballus, which was only used in poetry in Classical Latin, and was the normal word for horse in Late and Vulgar Latin. It possibly comes from the Gaulish caballos [source]. This is also the root of the English words cavalry, cavalier, cavalcade and chivalry,

The word equus comes from the Proto-Italic *ekwos, from the Proto-Indo-European *h₁éḱwos (horse) [source].

Celtic languages

  Breton Cornish Welsh Irish Manx Scottish Gaelic
horse marc’h margh ceffyl capall cabbyl each
stallion marc’h margh march
stalwyn
stail collagh
grihder
greadhair
mare kazeg kasek caseg láir laair làir
foal ebeul ebel ebol searrach sharragh searrach

The Scottish Gaelic word for horse, each, comes from the
Old Irish ech (horse), from Proto-Celtic *ekʷos (horse), from the Proto-Indo-European *h₁éḱwos (horse), which is also the root of the Breton, Cornish and Welsh words for foal.

The Breton marc’h (horse), the Cornish margh (horse) and the Welsh march (stallion) come from the Proto-Brythonic *marx (horse), from Proto-Celtic *markos (horse), from the Proto-Indo-European *márkos (horse). [source]. This is also the root of the Irish marcaigh (to ride), the Scottish Gaelic marcaich (to ride), and the Manx markiagh (to ride).

You can find more about Celtic words for horse on my Celtiadur blog

Slavic languages

  Bulgarian Czech Polish Russian Serbian Slovak
horse кон kůň kón
konno
лошадь коњ kôň
stallion жребец hřebec ogier
rumak
конь
жеребец
жребец žrebec
mare кобила klisna klacz
kobyła
кобыла кобила kobyla
foal жребец hříbě źrebak жеребёнок фоал žriebä

The Russian word for horse, лошадь, is a borrowing from a Turkic language, probably Tatar [source].

The other Slavic words for horse come from the Proto-Slavic konjь (horse), of unceratin origin [source].

Other European languages

  Latvian Lithuanian Albanian Greek
horse zirgs arklys kalë άλογο
ίππος
stallion ērze erelis hamshor επιβήτορα
mare ķēve kumelė merak φοράδα
foal kumeļi kumeliukas pjellë πουλάρι

Sources: Reverso, Linguee, bab.la, Google Translate

Newborough beach

Zed, Zee or Izzard?

Zed / Zee

The letter Z is known as zed [zɛd] in the UK, Canada, India, Ireland, New Zealand, and Australia, and as zee [ziː] in American English.

The name zed comes from the Greek name for the letter Ζ ζ zeta (ζήτα). The name zee is comes from an English dialectal form of the 17th century, and rhymes with other letter names, like bee, cee, dee, etc.

Another dialectal name for this letter from the 18th century is izzard [ˈɪzərd], which possibly comes from the Occitan izèda or the French ézed.

The letter Z has had a number of different forms in different alphabets:

An image showing the development of the letter Z

It’s origins can be traced back to an Egyptian Hieroglyph which looked like the Proto-Sinaitic version, which meant sword or weapon.

Names for the letter Z in other languages include:

  • zeta – Italian, Basque, Spanish and Icelandic
  • zê – Portuguese
  • zäta = Swedish
  • zæt = Danish
  • zet = Dutch, Indonesian, Polish, Romanian and Czech
  • Zett = German
  • zett = Norwegian
  • zède = French
  • zét in Vietnamese
  • zo = Esperanto

Sources: Wikipedia and Wiktionary

What do you call this letter?

Eponyms

An eponym is a word that derives from, or that is believed to derive from, the name of a real or ficticious person.

Eponym comes from the Ancient Greek ἐπώνυμος (epṓnumos), from ἐπί (epí, – upon) & ὄνυμα (ónuma – name).

Examples of eponyms include:

  • Boycott, from Charles Boycott, an English land agent based in Ireland in the 19th century.
  • Caesarean section, Tsar, Czar and Kaiser from Gaius Julius Caesar, Roman consul and general in the first century BC.
  • Europe, and variants, from Εὐρώπη (Eurṓpē), the mother of King Minos of Crete in Greek mythology.
  • Dunce, from John Duns Scotus (c 1265-1308), a philospher whose work was admired at first, but was later attacked and ridiculed. His followers were known as Dunsmen or Dunses, and the word dunce eventually became associated with lack of learning or opposition to new thinking. By the 1580s, a dunce was a dim witted person [source].
  • Leotard, from Jules Leotard, a French acrobat and trapeze artist in the 1800s

Many more examples of eponyms.

If your name was to become an eponym, what would you like to be remembered for? And what form would you like it to take?

Handymen

One of the things that we discussed at the French conversation group last night was how to translate the term handyman into French.

According to Wikipedia, a handyman, or handyperson or handyworker is:

a person skilled at a wide range of repairs, typically around the home. These tasks include trade skills, repair work, maintenance work, are both interior and exterior, and are sometimes described as “side work”, “odd jobs” or “fix-up tasks”. Specifically, these jobs could be light plumbing jobs such as fixing a leaky toilet or light electric jobs such as changing a light fixture.

The term may apply to someone who makes a living doing such work, or to do-it-yourselfers.

The French equivalent on Wikipedia is homme à tout faire (“man who does everything”).

In the Reverso Dictionary a handyman is translated into French as a bricoleur or homme à tout faire. The former is labelled as a do-it-yourselfer, and the latter as a servant. So it seems the connotations of these words are not quite the same as in English.

Perhaps a better translation of homme à tout faire is factotum, which is Latin for “do everything”, and is an old word for a person having many diverse activities or responsibilities, or a general servant.

When you hear the word handyman, what does it mean to you?

What equivalents are there in other languages?

Even Native Speakers Make Mistakes

There is an interesting dicussion on the Silly Linguistics Community Facebook page which started with this post:

While learning a foreign language, the teachers sometimes remark that “even native speakers get this wrong. Don’t imitate them”.

How could native speakers possibly be wrong?? If they’re not the standard, then what is?? An artificial one from the textbook?? We learn a language to communicate with the natives, not with the textbook, right??

The debate looks at these questions from different perspectives. Many commenters agree that native speakers do make mistakes in their own languages, and give examples from a variety of languages. Others argue that native speakers of a language don’t all speak the same version of their language. There are also comments about native speakers not knowing the grammar of their own language, or at least not being able to explain why words are used in particular ways.

When field linguists document previously undocumented languages, they work out how the language is used by the people who speak it. They don’t learn the language, then start telling native speakers that they are making mistakes. However, with languages that have standardised versions, especially written versions, people come to believe that the standard version is the ‘right’ version, and any deviation from it is a ‘mistake’. Thus non-standard varieties may be looked down on, ridiculed, and even erradicated by teachers in schools.

Can a native speaker make mistakes in their own language?
Yes. There are various kinds of mistakes a native speaker might make. Such as disfluencies, when you mispronounce words, or get your syllables or words jumbled up. Or you may spoonerise, as in par cark, rather than car park.

You may confuse words with similar sounds or meanings, such as effect and affect. You may miss out words – I certainly do when writing sometimes, and don’t always realise, as I know what I intended to write, so when I read the text again, I mentally fill in any missing words.

Spelling errors are also common, especially in English, as are orthographic errors, such as adding apostrophe’s when they’re not necessary, or forgetting to add them. Or, using too many, or too few commas.

Here are some examples of ‘mistakes’ native speakers make in English:

Many native speakers don’t know the grammar of their own language
This is a common misconception that often appears in discussions about language, especially when talking about how words or particular grammatical features ‘should’ be used. For example, the use of less and fewer in English. You may not know all the grammatical terms, such as noun, adjective, gender, case, etc, and the conventions like use to apostrophes, but you can use the language effectively. Native speakers of English are unlikely to say something like “To the shop went I morning this” or “Grammar very important is”, unless you’re imitating Yoda.

John McWhorter often talks about things like this on his podcast, Lexicon Valley. On a recent show he mentioned that the less / fewer distinction is an arbitary rule made up by someone in the 19th century. People have been using these words interchangeably for a long time without any confusion. So if someone tells you that the the signs in supermarkets shouldn’t say “five items or less” but “five items or fewer”, you could refer them to his podcast.

In Welsh textbooks and grammar books you are taught how to use mutations – that is the way initial consonants change in various circumstances. For example, Dw i’n byw ym Mangor = I live in Bangor, Dw i’n mynd i Fangor = I’m going to Bangor. Native speakers of Welsh don’t always use these as described in the books – sometimes they mutate, sometimes they don’t. So who is right? The native speakers, or the writers of textbooks and grammars? Or both?

Languages change all the time. New words and grammatical constructions emerge. The meanings of words can expand, or contract, and the ways they’re used changes. Such changes often happen in informal language first. Some of them at least will eventually become part of the standard language.

If your utterances and scribblings are understood by others, then you have managed to communicate effectively, even if you deviate from the perceived standard version of the language.

But we have to have standard’s, don’t we? And there are some things that you just shoudn’t do, like starting a sentence with a conjunction, splitting an infinitve – to happily do so is just wrong. And to finish a sentence with a preposition is something I can’t be having with! 😉

Do linguistic mistakes and errors bother you?

One language

Omnigot logo

Yesterday I say a post in the Silly Linguistics Community on Facebook challenging people to write a sentence in all the languages they speak. This is what I came up with:

Tha e duilich writing une phrase ym mhob språk atá agam, pero ich 試試 red ennagh symoil を書く, kaj nun я хочу říct že il mio tomo tawa supa está cheio de țipari.

This means “It is difficult writing a sentence in every language I speak, but I will try to write something interesting, and now I want to say my hovercraft is full of eels”.

The languages, in order, are Scottish Gaelic, English, French, Welsh, Swedish, Irish, Spanish, German, Chinese, Manx, Japanese, Esperanto, Russian, Czech, Italian, Toki Pona, Portuguese and Romanian.

It’s not the best sentence ever, perhaps, but I enjoyed the challenge of putting it together. It also got me thinking about how many languages and writing systems I could use in a version of my motto “one language is never enough“. This motto appears on some versions of my logo, such as the one above, and I usually try to write it in several difficult languages.

Here are some versions I came up with today. The first version incorporates some of the languages I speak and am learning, plus a few others.

Une singură 语言 är nikdy недостаточно – languages = French, Romanian, Chinese, Swedish, Czech / Slovak, Russian.

Ett seule 言語 ist nunca yn ddigon – languages = Norwegian / Swedish, French, Japanese, German, Portuguese / Galician / Spanish, Welsh.

Jeden lingua er niemals suficiente – languages = Czech / Polish / Slovak / Rusyn, Asturian / Chamorro / Corsican / Galician / Italian / Latin / Sicilian / Interlingua, Danish / Faroese / Icelandic / Norwegian, German, Spanish / Asturian.

Can you incorporate more languages and/or writing systems into this phrase?

Wakandan

Last night I saw the film Black Panther, and quite enjoyed it, especially the linguistic elements.

The film is based in the fictional African country Wakanda. The characters speak mainly in English, but sometimes slip into Xhosa, which is nice to hear.

The titles and credits at the beginning and end of the film first appear in a mysterious script, which also appears on various signs and decorative elements in the film. Today I found a font for this script, which seems to be called Wakandan, and put together a page about it. Here’s an example:

A sample text in the Wakandan alphabet (Article 1 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights)

The text then changes into a version of the Latin alphabet which looks a bit like the mystery script. It is in fact a typeface known as BEYNO, which was designed by Swiss designer and illustrator Fabian Korn. Here’s an example:

A example of the BEYNO typeface used in the Black Panther film

Scandinavian Mutual Intelligibility

Scandinavian languages

The other day I meet a Faroe Islander, and one of the things we talked about was mutual intelligibility between Scandinavian languages.

I was under the impression that Faroese and Icelandic were closely related, and assumed that there would be quite a bit of mutually intelligibility between them.

She told me that this is true to some extent – if you know Faroese, you can understand written Icelandic quite well, but spoken Icelandic is more difficult to follow.

I also thought that Danish, Norwegian and Swedish are more or less mutually intelligible. I’ve been learning Swedish for a while now, and can make some sense of written Danish and Norwegian, and understand the spoken languages to a limited extent.

Everyone in the Faroe Islands learns Danish, which is very close to Norwegian, so they can understand both languages. According to my Faroese informant though, Swedish differs more from the other Scandinavian languages and is more difficult to understand.

If you speak one or more of the Scandinavian languages, how much can you understand the others?

If I had my druthers

In an email I received today, I saw the phrase “If I really had my druthers”, which puzzled me. I hadn’t come across the word druthers before, and had to look it up.

According to Wikitionary, druthers [ˈdrʌðəz] means “wishes, preferences, or ways” and is used informally in the USA. It comes from the the expression “I’d rather” (meaning “I would prefer to”), which is often pronounced “I druther” in some dialects.

According to Dictionary.com, druthers first appeared in the 1870s.

Here are some examples of use:

  • I’d druther stay home today.
  • We druther go swimming than go to school.
  • If I’ve got my druthers, I(‘d) druther not.
  • If I had my druthers, I would prefer to be a writer

Have you heard / seen druther(s) used before?

Do you use it yourself?

Fox paths

Language quiz image

The other day I saw post on the Omniglot fan club on Facebook about fox-related idioms. The discussion started with a fox-related Swedish idiom: Ha en räv bakom örat (“to have a fox behind one’s ear”) = to be cunning like a fox.

I found a few of interesting fox-related expressions in Welsh:

  • Cysgu llywnog [kəsgɨ ɬʊɨnɔg] (“fox’s sleep”) = simulated sleep to deceive the onlooker
  • Llwybr llwynog [ɬʊɨbr ɬʊɨnɔg] (“fox’s path”) = a secret path used by quarrymen when late for work to avoid being seen by the steward
  • Tywydd llwynog [təʊɨð ɬʊɨnɔg] (“fox weather”) = unsettled weather

I particularly like the second one.

In English you might someone is a sly fox, or as sly/cunning as a fox if they’re particularly cunning and/or clever. This association is an old one mentioned in folk tales such as Aesop’s Fables, and also in Shakespeare’s plays [source]. You can also outfox someone when you outwit them, especially if you’re a wily old fox.

Do you know any other interesting fox-related idioms?