Fence sitting

Last night I learnt the French equivalent of the English idiom, to sit on the fence (to be undecided in opinion, or neutral in action) – ménager la chèvre et le choux [source], or “to keep the goat and the cabbage”. This phrase is also translated as “to face both ways”, “to keep everyone happy”, “have a foot in both camps” and “to play both ends against the middle”.

As a verb ménager means to handle carefully, to treat considerately, to take care not to hurt sb’s pride, to take care of, to look after or to arrange. As an adjective it means household, domestic, housework, housewife or canteen. The related noun, ménage, means household, housework or housekeeping.

Expressions including ménager and ménage include:

– ménager ses forces – to save one’s strength
– ne pas ménager – to spare no effort.
– robot ménager – food processor
– appareil ménager – domestic appliance
– jeune ménage – young couple
– argent du ménage – housekeeping money
– chef de ménage – head of the household
– chocolat de ménage – plain chocolate
– (mal)heureux en ménage – (un)happily married
– ménage à trois
– (grand) ménage de printemps – spring cleaning

Etymology: ménager and ménage come from the Old French word manoir (to remain, stay, dwell, reside), from the Latin manēre / maneo (same meaning as manoir) [source], from the Proto-Indo-European root *men- (to stay) [source], which is also the root of the French words maison (house) and manoir (manor house), of the English word manor, and of mansion, which is found in French and English.

Eyelid batting

The other day a friend asked me about the origins of the phrase “to bat an eyelid”, which is normally used in the negative – he didn’t bat an eyelid at the pink elephant in the fridge – and means that you don’t react or show emotion when surprised or shocked. Or in other words, you took it in your stride. We wondered way it’s ‘bat’, which seems a strange thing to do with your eyelids.

The same verb is used in the phrase “to bat ones eyes/eyelashes”, meaning to open and close your eyes very quickly several times, intending to be attractive to someone [source].

According to the OED, the verb to bat is a variant of bate (to flutter as a hawk), from the Old French batre (to contend, fight, strive, flutter), from the late Latin batĕre/battĕre, from the classical Latin batuĕre (to hit, beat, pound). This comes from the Proto-Indo-European prefix bhau- (to hit) [source], which is also the root of such English words as butt and batter.

Rundfunk

I came across the German word Rundfunk the other day and it just appealed to me, so I thought I’d find out more about it.

Rundfunk /ˈʀʊntfʊŋk/ means broadcasting, radio, wireless or broadcasting company/corporation, though would probably also be a good name for a band.

It also appears in such expressions as:

– Rundfunkansager – radio announcer
– Rundfunkgesellschaft – broadcasting company
– Rundfunksendung – radio programme
– Rundfunksender – radio transmitter

Rund /ʀʊnt/ means round, rounded, circular, spherical, plump, about, roughly, flatly, and comes the Middle Low German runt, from the Old French ront, from the Latin rotundus (round), from rota (wheel, disk), from the Proto-Indo-European *Hroth₂-o- (wheel) [source] – the same root as the English word round.

Some words and expressions featuring rund include:

– Rundbank – circular bench
– Rundbau – rotunda
– Rundblick – panorama
– Rundung – curve
– eine Runde machen – to go for a walk / ride – similar to the Welsh expression, mynd am dro (to go for a turn)
– eine Runde schlafen – to have a kip (sleep)
– rund um die Uhr – right (a)round the clock
– jetzt geht’s rund – this is where the fun starts
– es geht rund im Büro – there’s a lot on at the office

Funk /ˈfʊŋk/ appears in radio-related compounds, like Rundfunk, and is possibly related to Funke (spark, scrap, gleam, ray, glimmer), from the Proto-Germanic *funkô/*fankô (spark), from the Proto-Indo-European *(s)peng-/*(s)pheng- (to shine).

Some words featuring Funk include:

– Funkerzählung – story written for radio
– Funkgerät – radio equipment, walkie-talkie
– Funkmeßgerät – radar
– Funkkolleg – educational radio broadcast
– Funkwagen – radio car

The verb funken (to radio, to emit sparks) also exists.

One thing I like about German is words link Rundfunk, which seem to me to be somehow more earthy and straightforward they their more flowery Latin or Greek-derived equivalents. I like the Latin and Greek-derived words as well, but the words with Germanic roots just appeal to me in a different way.

Summer chicks and glowing coals

Butterfly

Last night we were talking about the Pili Palas on Anglesey, a butterfly centre, which also has birds, snakes and other exotic creatures. The name is a pun combining pili-pala (butterfly) and palas (palace) – it took me ages to realise this. We were trying to think of the words for butterfly in various other languages and came up with the French, papillon, and the Spanish mariposa, but got stuck after that. This got me wondering why these words are so different in different languages.

The English word butterfly comes from the Old English buttorfleoge, perhaps from bēatan (to beat) and flēoge (fly), or perhaps it was the name just for yellow butterflies, and/or because butterflies were thought to eat butter and milk.

In Middle High German butterflies were known as molkendiep (“milk-thief”) and in Low German a butterfly is a Botterlicker (“butter-licker”) [source]. In Modern German Schmetterling /ˈʃmɛtɐlɪŋ/ is the word for butterfly – from Schmetten (cream) – from the Czech smetana (cream). This is based on the folk belief that witches transformed themselves into butterflies to steal cream and milk [source].

Welsh words for butterfly include iâr fach yr haf (“summer chick”), glöyn byw (“living coal”), pila-pala and bili-balo.

Like iâr fach yr haf in Welsh, butterflies are known as “summer birds” in Norwegian, sommerfugl, and in Yiddish, zomerfeygele.

In Irish the word for butterfly is féileacán, possible from the Old Irish etelachán (little flying creature / butterfly), from etelach (flying) [source]. The Manx butterfly, foillycan, comes from the same root, but in Scottish Gaelic butterflies are seilleann-dé (“God’s bee”) and dealan-dè (“God’s lightening”).

The French word for butterfly, papillon, comes from the Latin pāpiliō (butterfly, moth) – of unknown origin, and also the root of the English word pavilion (via Old French) [source]. The Italian farfalla (butterfly) comes from the same source.

The Spanish word for butterfly, mariposa, apparently comes from the expression Mari, posa(te (Mary, alight!), which features in children’s songs and games, or from la Santa Maria posa (the Virgin Mary alights/rests). Other theories about the etymology of this word.

There is more discussion of words for butterfly in various languages on AllExperts, and there are words for butterfly in many more languages here.

Peu profond

Last night I discovered that there doesn’t appear to be a separate French word for shallow, at least when you’re talking about shallow water, dishes or graves – the term peu profond (‘not very deep’) is used in these cases. If you’re talking about a shallow person, mind, writing, novel, film or conversation though, the word to use is superficiel(le), or you can say that they manque de profondeur (lack depth).

This got me wondering whether there is a Latin word for shallow, when referring to water, etc, which didn’t end up in French. According to my Latin dictionary, shallow is brevis, vadōsus or levis. Another Latin dictionary I checked defines brevis as short, vadōsus as “full of shallows, shallow, shoal” and levis as “light, not heavy” or “smooth, not rough”.

The English word shallow first appeared in writing in the early 15th century schalowe, and is possibly related to schald (Old English sceald) – shoal.

Epizeuxis

I came across the word epizeuxis recently (in One of Our Thursdays is Missing, by Jasper Fforde) and wasn’t sure what it meant or even how to pronounce it, so I decided to find out.

According to the OED, epizeuxis (/ɛpɪˈzjuːksɪs/) is “a figure by which a word is repeated with vehemence or emphasis.” It comes via Latin from the Greek ἐπίζευξις (epizeuxis – a fastening upon), from ἐπί (epi – upon) and ζευγνύναι (zeugnunai – to yoke).

Wikipedia says that, “In rhetoric, an epizeuxis is the repetition of words in immediate succession, for vehemence or emphasis” and gives examples such as “O horror, horror, horror.” from Macbeth, and “Education, education, education.” by Tony Blair.

Information about this and other terms used in rhetoric from abating* to zeugma** can be found in the Silva Rhetoricae: The Forest of Rhetoric.

* abating in an English version of anesis (/ˈænɪsɪs/), from the Greek ἄνεσις (anesis – a loosening, relaxing, abating) = “adding a concluding sentence that diminishes the effect of what has been said previously. The opposite of epitasis.”

** zeugma (/ˈzjuːgmə/), from the Greek ζεῦγμα (zeûgma – yoke) = “A general term describing when one part of speech (most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun) governs two or more other parts of a sentence (often in a series).”

Occlupanid

Example of an occlupanid (Archignatha)

Yesterday I discovered an interesting new word – occlupanid, which is defined by the Holotypic Occlupanid Research Group as follows:

“Occlupanids are generally found as parasitoids on bagged pastries in supermarket biomes, although a few species are found on vegetables and bulk grains, and one notable species (Uniporus) is found exclusively on vent tubing bags. Their fascinating and complex life cycle is unfortunately severely under-researched. What is known is that they take nourishment from the plastic sacs that surround the bagged product, not the product itself, as was previously thought. They often situate themselves toward the center of the plastic bag, holding in the contents. This leads to speculation that the relationship may be more symbiotic than purely parasitic.”

The common name for occlupanid is apparently breadtie, and the HORG is dedicated to the taxonomic classification of the breadties of the world. They provide details about different species of occlupanid – the one on the right is an archignatha (“first tooth”), for example – the morphology of their names, and their taxonomy and history. The term occlupanid comes from the Latin occlūdere (to shut up, to close) and the Greek παγ (pan – bread), which is also found in pancreas (“sweet bread”).

What do you call these things?

Pandora’s banjo

Banjo

Last night a friend asked me about the origins of the word banjo. I wasn’t sure, so I did some investigating and discovered that banjo comes from the word bandore as pronounced by African slaves – ban’jōre, ban’jō.

A bandore (/bænˈdɔə(r)/ /ˈbændɔə(r)/) is “a musical instrument resembling a guitar or lute, with three, four, or six wire strings, used as a bass to the cittern.” and arrived in English from the Spanish ban’durria / ban’dola or the Portuguese bandurra, which come from the Latin pandūra, from the Greek πανδοῦρα [Source].

A Greek πανδοῦρα (pandoura) was a kind of lute with three strings, and the word was used for other lute-type instruments. It possibly developed from and got it’s name from a type of Sumerian plucked lute known as a pantur (lit. “small bow”). There is also theory that the Greek πανδοῦρα came from or was influenced by Ancient Egyptian instruments.

The πανδοῦρα became popular among the Romans, especially during the first centuries AD and among the common people – members of ‘polite’ society apparently considered it a vulgar instrument suitable only for taverns, frivolity, low merry-making and popular music. [source]

The name Pandora (Πανδώρα) isn’t related to πανδοῦρα, as far as I can discover, and comes from the Greek words πᾶν “all” and δῶρον (gift), and means “all-gifted” or “all-endowed” [source]. I couldn’t resist using it as a punning title though.

Flame of the woods

Gold finch from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sheedypj/4176105819/in/photostream

Lasair choille or ‘flame of the woods’ is the Irish name for the goldfinch (carduelis carduelis), two of which I saw on my apple tree this morning. I like to know the names of birds and other creatures in the my languages, and particularly liked the Irish version when I discovered it.

The Irish word lasair means flame or blame comes from las (to light, inflame, ignite, blush). It probably shares the same root as the English word lamp, which comes from the French word lampe, from the Latin lampas, from the Greek λαμπάς (to shine).

In Welsh the goldfinch is known as nico, but has many other names, including jac nico, teiliwr llundain (London tailor), peneuryn (head gold jewel?), eurbinc (gold pink), pobliw (every colour), soldiwr bach y werddon (little soldier of the green place/oasis), cnot, ysnoden felen (yellow band) and asgell aur (gold wing).

The English word finch comes from the Old English finc, possibly from the Old Germanic *finki-z or finkjon, which is thought to be of echoic origin.

Names for the goldfinch in many other languages can be found on the avibase.

Rheithgor

I heard the word rheithgor (/ˈr̩əiθgɔr/) on Radio Cymru this morning in the context of a report on a trial, and guessed that it meant ‘jury’. The second element, gor, comes from côr (/koːr/) (choir, circle), and the first element, rheith, appears in such words as rheithfawr (greatly just), rheithiad (regulation), rheithio (to fix a law), rheithiol (established as law), and also in rheitheg (rhetoric) and rheithegydd (rhetorician). So rheith seems to have something to do with justice and law and a rheithgor could be a ‘law choir’.

Another Welsh word that includes the element côr is pwyllgor /ˈpʊɨɬgɔr/ (committee) – the pwyll part means ‘discretion; steadiness’, and a related word, pwyllo, means ‘to steady, consider, reason, reflect’ – things that committees might do.

The English word jury comes from the Anglo-Norman jure(e), from the Old French jurée (oath, juridical inquiry, inquest), from the medieval Latin jūrāta, from iūrāre (to swear), from iūs (law, duty), from the Proto-Indo-European *yAus- (ritual purity; supreme justice), which is also the root of just and justice.

The English word choir comes from the Middle English quer(e), from the Old French cuer (church choir), from the Latin chorus (a company of dancers, dance; company, band) from the Greek χορός (dance, company of dancers or singers). Chorus comes from the same root.

Sources: Y Geiriadur Mawr, A Pocket Dictionary (Welsh-English), Oxford English Dictionary, Wiktionary