Gendarmes et policiers

Yesterday there was some discussion of the police at the French Conversation Group – one of the members is a former policeman. We use the word policier, but later I remembered that another French word for policeman is gendarme, and it suddenly dawned on me that gendarme probably comes from gens d’armes (armed man). I checked this today and it’s right. It’s not something I’ve really thought about before, but when I did think about it, it seemed so obvious. Do you find that with words sometimes?

According to Reverso, French country police officers are called les gendarmes, but those in towns are called les agents de police or les policiers. A community police officer is un îlotier and a traffic police officer is un agent de la circulation.

According to the OED and the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word police comes from the Middle French police (public order, administration, government), from the Latin polītīa (citizenship, political organization, government), which is also the root of policy, politics, politican, etc. and comes from the Ancient Greek πολιτεία (politeia – citizenship, government, administration) from πολίτης (polites – citizen) from πολίς (polis – city, state), from the Proto-Indo-European *p(o)lH- (enclosed space, often on high ground).

Panache, pegs and pinafores

One thing we discussed last night at the French Conversation Group was whether panache means the same thing in French as it does in English.

According to the OED, panache [/pəˈnaʃ/ (UK) /pəˈnæʃ/ (USA)] comes from the Middle French pennache, which originally meant a tuft or plume of feathers, and by the late 19th century had come to mean “manly elegance or swagger, chivalrous or heroic courage, flamboyance, elegance, style”.

Pennache comes from the Italian pennacchio (plume), from the post-classical Latin pinnāculum, a dimmunitive of pinna (wing, feather, pointed peak), which comes from the Proto-Indo-European *bend- (something protruding). Other words that possibly come from the same root include pin, peg, pinafore, pinion and pinacle.

According to Le Dictionnaire, the French word panache means:

– ornement composé de plumes flottantes, placé sur une coiffure = an ornament of floating feathers worn on the head
– élément qui rappelle la forme de cet ornement = something resembling such an ornament
– surface triangulaire du pendentif d’une voûte en forme de sphère = a triangular area of a roof pendant in the shape of a sphere
– (au sens figuré) élégance et brio = (figuratively) elegance and panache

According to Reverso, panache can also mean:
– a plume (of smoke/water) = une panache (de fumée/d’eau)
– showiness

Some examples:
– avec panache = gallantly
– sans panache = unimpressive

A related word is panaché, which means:

– décoré de couleurs variées = decorated with various colours / varigated / colourful
– composé de différents éléments = made up of different parts / mixed
– boisson qui est composée de bière et de limonade = shandy (a mixture of beer/lager and lemonade)

Some examples:
– glace panachée = mixed ice cream
– salade panachée = mixed salad
– œillet panaché = variegated carnation

The verb panacher (to mix) also exists.

An alternative way to say ‘with great panache’ is avec maestria.

Pozo

Last night I learnt a song, En el pozo María Luisa (In the Maria Lusia mine), from a Spanish friend. This song, which is also known as Nel Pozu Maria Luisa or Santa Bárbara Bendita, comes from Asturias in north west Spain and is usually sung in Asturian, Spanish or a mixture of the two. It is the story of a mining accident in the Pozu Maria Luisa coal mine, in the town of Ciaño in the municipality of Langreo.

While I was able to understand most of the words after hearing them a few times, some of them puzzled me. For example, when I heard the word pozo (mine) it sounded to me more like porzo, which I couldn’t find in my Spanish dictionaries when I looked. Eventually I found pozo when looking in the English-Spanish section for the word mine. Another word for mine is mina.

Pozo /’poθo/ is a well; a deep pool, the deep part of a river; a shaft, pit or mine; or the hold (of a ship). It comes from the Latin word puteus (pit, dungeon, well, cistern).

Expressions containing pozo include:

– pozo artesiano = artesian well
– pozo de petróleo = oil well
– pozo ciego/negro = cesspool
– caer en el pozo = to fall into oblivion
– pozo de aire = air shaft
– pozo de registro/visita = manhole / inspection hatch
– ser un pozo de ciencia = to be immensely learned
– es un pozo de maldad = he is utterly wicked

I assumed that the song was in Spanish, and that the words that puzzled me they were just ones I hadn’t heard before, like pozo. Now I realise that some of the words might have been Asturian – the Spanish friend who taught me the song is from Asturias.

Word skipping to Venus

I was asked today about the origins of the word worship. The person who asked was told by a highly-educated minister that “worship” is derived from an old English word, “word-skip”. Supposedly, “word-skip” means “word shaper” or “shaper of words”.

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary: worship comes from the Old English worðscip, wurðscip (Anglian), weorðscipe (West Saxon), “condition of being worthy, honor, renown”, from weorð (worthy), and -scipe, “state, condition of being”. The sense of “reverence paid to a supernatural or divine being” is first recorded in about 1300. The original sense is preserved in the title worshipful (c.1300). The verb to worship first appears in writing from about 1200. The word weorð comes from the Proto Germanic *werthaz (toward, opposite), which is possibly a derivative of Proto-Indo-European word *wert- (to turn, wind). from *wer- (to turn, bend).

The OED and the Collins Dictionary give the same etymology, and the OED lists the numerous ways worship was written in Middle English, including worðscipe, worðschipe, worðschepe, worþssipe, worþschip, wortscip, wortschyp, worsipe, worssipe, and so on.

The Dictionary of Word Origins says the worship originally meant “worthiness, distinction, credit, dignity” in Old English. Later is came to mean “respect or reverence”, and was used in religious contexts from the 13th century, and that is was used as a verb from the 12th century.

A related word is venerate, from the Latin venerāt- from venerārī/venerāre (to reverence, worship, adore), which comes from venus (beauty, love desire), from the Proto-Indo-European base *wen- (to strive after, wish, desire, be satisfied) [source]. This is also the root of the words for worship in Italian (venerare), Portuguese (venerar) and French (vénérer). The equivalent in Spanish is adorar or rendir culto a.

Telling tales

Earlier this week I went to a Christmas show entitled Beasts and Beauties in Kendal. It wasn’t a traditional Christmas pantomime, though did include some pantomimesque elements, but rather a series of eight fairy/folk tales from around Europe, including:

The Emperor’s New Clothes or Kejserens nye Klæder by Hans Christian Andersen (Danish)
Bluebeard or La Barbe bleue by Charles Perrault (French)
The Juniper Tree or Von dem Machandelboom a story collected by the Brothers Grimm in Low German
The Girl and the North Wind (Norwegian). This one was originally The Lad who went to the North Wind or Gutten som gikk til nordavinden

It was all in English in various accents with occasional words in the other languages, and was well put together and acted.

It’s interesting to see the original texts of these tales and to discover the ways they start, which tend to be formulaic – the equivalents of the English ‘Once upon a time’. For example stories might start with ‘For mange Aar siden …’ in Danish, ‘Il était une fois …’ in French, ‘Dat is nu all lang heer …‘ in Low German, ‘Det var engang …‘ in Norwegian,

Such stories are usually referred to as fairy tales/stories or folk tales/stories. The word tale comes from the Old English talu (story, tale), from the Old Germanic *talō, from the Proto-Indo-European root *del- (to recount, count), which is also the root of talk, tell, tall and teller, which arrived via Old Norse, as well as the Dutch word taal (speech), the German word zahl (number) and the Danish tale (speech) [source].

Tables, chairs, stools and cathedrals

The Russian word for table (the piece of furniture) is стол (/stol/) which sounds a bit like stool in English. In most other Slavic languages the words for table are simliar: стол (Belarusian), stol (Croatian), stůl (Czech), stolŭ (Old Church Slavonic = throne, seat), stół (Polish), сто (Serbian), stôl (Slovak) and стіл (Ukrainian). Although in Bulgarian and Macedonian стол means chair and table is маса (masa), and in Slovenian a table is miza and chair is stol.

The Russian for chair is стул (/stul/), which sounds even more like stool, and stool is табуретка (/taburʲetka/), which probably comes from the French word for stool, tabouret. The English word stool comes from the Old English stól (seat for one person), from the Proto-Germanic *stōlaz, probably from the Proto-Indo-European root *stō-/sta- (to stand). The Slavic words for table probably come from the same root.

Stool came to mean a small seat without arms or a back when the word chair was adopted from French, via the Middle English chaere/chaiere from the Old French chaëre from the Latin cathedra (seat), from the Greek καθέδρα (chair, especially the seat of a bishop, or a teacher’s or professor’s chair) from κατά (down) and ἑδ (sit). In modern French the word chaire means a pulpit or a university chair (professorship), while a normal chair that you sit on is a chaise.

The English word table comes from the the classical Latin word tabula (board, plank, writing/votive tablet, map, picture), and was influenced by the Anglo-Norman tabul/tabull (board, plank, writing table, picture). The origin of the Latin word tabula is uncertain.

Sources: OED, Reverso, Online Etymology Dictionary

Sauve-qui-peut!

One of the things that came up in conversation last night was how to say ‘to save’ in French. As is often the case, there are a number of different translations of this word, depending on the context:

sauver = to save (person, animal, jewels, building etc), rescue, salvage
– sauver la vie â/de qcn = to save sb’s life
– sauver sa peau = to save one’s skin, neck, hide
– sauver son âme = to save one’s soul
– sauver les apparences = to keep up appearances
– sauver la face = to save face
– sauve-qui-peut = stampede / every man for himself / run for your life

There is also a reflexive version of this verb, se sauver, which means to run away, to be off. For example, Il s’est sauvé à toutes jambes (He ran away as fast as he could); Allez, je me sauve! (Right, I’m off! / I’m out of here!).

When you want to talk about saving money, time or energy the word to use économiser. For example, vous économisez un euro si vous achetez 3 pacquets (You save a euro if you buy 3 packets). If you’re talking about putting money, food or other things aside for a rainy day though, the expression to use is mettre de côté or garder. For example, il garde les vieux journaux pour les bonnes œuvres (he’s saving (up) old newspapers for charity).

The French equivalents for ‘to save a goal’ are empêcher de marquer, faire un blocage or sauver un but.

The word sauver comes from the Old French salver/sauver, from the late Latin salvāre (to save), from the Latin salvus (safe, secure, immune from punishment, intact, undamaged), from the Proto-Indo-European base *sol- (whole). The English words save, safe, salvage, salver, saviour and salvation come from the same roots.

Sources: Reverso, OED, Online Etymology Dictionary, and Collins Robert French Dictionary.

Nursery rhymes and computers

Comptine /kɔ̃tin/ is the French for nursery rhyme or for a counting rhyme or song. I learnt it last night and thought I’d look into where it comes from.

According Wiktionnaire, comptine is made up of compte (count, number, account) and the suffix -ine. Compte /kɔ̃t/ comes from computus (count, number, account, calculation), from computo (to count – computer in French), from con- (suffix = with; all) and putō (to think, suppose, reckon, count, prune), perhaps from the Proto-Indo-European *pu- (to wash).

My French dictionary says that comptine refers particularly to nursery rhymes involving counting, which is reflected in its etymology. Other words for children’s songs include chansons pour enfant (songs for children) and berceuse (lullaby, cradle song, hushaby, rocking chair), which also means nursemaid, and comes from bercer (to rock, cradle, lull), which apparently comes from Gaulish.

Links
Comptines et chansons pour enfant
Toutes les comptines et chansons pour enfants
Comptines.net – Paroles de Comptines et Berceuses pour enfants et bébes

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.