Of Symposiums and Delirium: following footprints

Tags

delirious, delirium, last, learn, symposium

As you look at the variety of shoes , consider the foot prints. And to make sense of this clue read on!! Printed in Barcelona (Spain) by Centro Editorial Artístico de Miguel Seguí, circa 1900.

Early in the week grade 7 students were lucky to participate in a science symposium where ecologists with a variety of ecological specializations met with small groups of students to discuss environmental concerns in Malaysia. As students prepared for this gathering, discussion in humanities inevitably centred on the word symposium.

We do not carry out lengthy word investigations every day (sadly) not even every week, but every day we examine a word. Sometimes we devote half a period (45 minutes) to this, sometimes we spend five minutes, sometimes ten to fifteen minutes, sometimes students work independently and follow up what has been a tentative hypothesis in class. The result of these brief but regular forays into morphology and etymology is that the knowledge and analytic skills involved in identifying morphemes are constantly practised, so much so that it is just as often a student who will now ask, ‘How would we analyze this word?’ or ‘What is the base in this word?’- all music to my ears. Now, part way through our second trimester, I notice that students  have become more patient. They are prepared to justify their thinking and recognize that to begin research with a hypothesis and a question is so much more helpful than resorting instantly to the Online Etymology Dictionary expecting to find the answer leaping out at them. They won’t.

This is an important point for both students and teachers. The brilliance of the Online Etymology Dictionary entry is the story it tells of a word’s development. It tells us when the word entered the English language, it’s journey to English, and the language of its origin. It helps to uncover related words- words sharing the same base element or other base elements that have come from the same root. However, you have to make those morpheme connections and prove these yourself. It will not serve up the morphemes all neatly analyzed. The role of the etymological dictionary is, as the name implies, etymological.

This reference will help you to unearth a root with careful digging. And digging it is, as is appropriate with roots! One root may have radicles ( to continue the botanical metaphor) that can lead through long twisting strands back to a root in the Proto Indo European language, a hypothesised language, of approximately 5, 500 years ago. These ancient roots can be found when you follow the links through an entry. It will not provide the morphological elements- for this you need to use the evidence of the root and think what has been removed from the etymon. For example if the Latin root is in the infinitive form, it is the elements <-are> <-ire>, <-ere> that indicate this. These are the elements that are not present in an English base element . You also need to see what graphemic changes have been made to the English base as the word adapts to the new language or languages in its journey into English. So looking for the root is etymological and searching for related words and identifying morphemes is morphological. The etymology informs the morphology.

I love the linguistic metaphor of ‘root’ suggesting the interconnections of other words. This image almost shows this – a main root and from this a host of others that branch out and take life in other languages, in other words in the same language. I also love these illustrations and the work of J.E.Weaver of the University of Minnesota, famed expert of the plants of the prairies and in particular the roots of prairie plants: ‘that portion of Prairie which is seldom seen–‘the extensive and intricate “Prairie underground,” with roots occasionally extending over 20 feet deep’. I enjoyed reading how he wore a suit and sported a green eye shade when examining the roots , how his wife addressed him as Dr Weaver, how he employed students to dig 1,500 trenches for a one year study, and especially love his three dimensional photographs of roots. I applaud his obsessional focus, specialization, his detail and knowledge. Information gleaned from GardenHistoryGirl, go there to see and learn more.

You’ll note the process of slowly forming a hypothesis supported by evidence as the students below discuss their thinking and justify the morphemes in symposium. Rather than the base capturing the majority of our attention and time as it usually does, this day it was the suffix that stole the show and caused puzzlement. Where were the morpheme boundaries in this word? What makes sense in Present Day English?

A day later, one student capably summarized the class thinking and research so far.

The discussion over the suffix in symposium proved intriguing. Some students identified the base element as <posium>. Some argued for <-ium> with others in favour of <i+um>. It was the evidence they brought to this discussion that was pleasing. At this point we are arguing for <sym+pose+i+um> as we feel the words planetarium, delirium and tedium provide compelling reasons as to the existence of a connecting vowel letter <i> and the suffix <-um>. With the discovery of the word <planetary> we were able to analyze planetarium as <planet+ary+um> with the final <y> of the suffix<-ary> changed to an <i> with the addition of the Latin vowel suffix <-um>. (Go to Real Spelling tool kits to discover more about this critical orthographic convention:see Kit 1 A and Kit 3F). As the recordings above indicate, we hypothesized that delirium was comprised of the morphemes<de+lire+i+um>. We knew that the <-um> could be replaced by <-ous>.

Here’s what we discovered about the etymology of symposium.

Red figure image of a Greek symposium.

Symposium entered English in 1580 from Latin as symposium remaining unchanged in its morphemic structure since its entry. However, its roots trail beyond Latin.

We had sensed the Latin influence with <-um> seen in words such as dictum, optimum, decorum, maximum, minimum,rostrum. Yet there was also the internal <y> in the prefix <sym-> which we knew from words of Greek origin such as sympathy, symbol, symbiosis. The Greek συμπόσιον : symposion which had come from συμπότης : sympotes: fellow-drinker, the root of which was  πότης :potes drinker. This Greek base had ultimately derived from the Proto Indo European root *po(i)-  to drink which is also the source for the Latin infinitive potare: to drink.  Latin potare has provided English with words such as poison and potion and potable! 

Today symposium has altered somewhat in meaning. In Ancient Greece the anticipation at such an occasion was the after dinner entertainment of dancing, music, games and intellectual discussion conducted by aristocratic male Greeks accompanied by alcohol mixed by the symposiarch.Today, as in ancient Greece, we still anticipate a convivial atmosphere and hope for the intellectual exchange of ideas.

Delirium

This word inquiry however, unearthed another etymological discovery in the word delirium. As you heard in the video clips above, we had used this word as part of the evidence to prove <-um> as a suffix. We checked that everyone understood the meaning- some thought that delirium occurred with high fevers, your mind wandered so that you were  delirious. We hypothesized that the morphemes were <de+lire+i+ous>. We could list words in evidence to prove the prefix <de-> such as describe, defeat, delight. We could provide evidence for the suffix <-ous> such as famous, delicious, malicious. The connecting vowel letter <i> was familiar from words such as malicious , delicious and insidious. However, we were stumped as to other possible words sharing this proposed base. Perhaps a base with only a very small family.

Two students discovered in the OED that there was once a word ‘delire’ now faded from regular use. This was verbal and meant to go astray, to go wrong and had entered English in 1400.  It joined the rank of other words available to metaphorically describe this moral confusion and rambling from paths of righteousness such as  misfare(OE), miswend (OE) misnim (1225),  crook (1325),wry (1369), forloin (1400) even the phrase ‘to tread the shoe awry’ (1542). All these words are used verbally and have a sense of stepping away from, being bent or veering off a path. And this is what we discovered also in the root leading to delire and delirious.

Delirium is from an agricultural metaphor of breaking away from the ploughed straightness of the furrow. It entered English from the Latin word dēlīrāre which in Latin had taken a metaphorical turn, denoted ‘deranged, crazy out of one’s wits’. (OED) Earlier in Latin the phrase de lira had referred to ploughing and to deviate from the furrow. Latin līra is furrow or ridge. Yet the story does not stop there- we have not come to the end of the track! Lira can be traced back to Proto Indo European *leis- track or furrow. We continued following this track through the Online Etymology Dictionary which, within the delirium entry, gave a link to learn. I hear your gasps of astonishment! And yes the track continues!

Learn is Old English but has derived from the same Proto Germanic root **liznêjan , *liznôjan which has a ‘base sense of to follow or find the track’ and too progeny of Indo European root of *leis-. And last the distance dear readers, the story gets even more exciting!!

We discovered that last too is part of this tale of furrows and tracks. Last is a homonym and the last of our focus on this winding trail is the noun last which survives today as in the shoe last denoting the wooden or metal model of a foot that cobblers used to make shoes. We also discovered another obsolete noun last of Old English origin, which once meant ‘a mark or trace left on the ground by the foot; a footprint, a track; a footstep; (also) the sole or lower part of the foot’.(OED)

Bespoke shoemaker, Schweiger of shoe makers James Taylor and Sons, surrounded by wooden lasts. Read the Guardian article here about his work

As a verb last also once meant to follow a leader, to serve or help and is of the same Proto Germanic and Indo European roots. You can see the echoes of tracks and footprints here. It also has a current sense of enduring- to last the distance. And of course that metaphorically suggests putting one foot in front of the other, following the track until the end!

What a track we’ve followed in pursuit of delirium. It has led us through furrows to tracks and footprints and the etymologically related words: last, learn and delirium. It’s the pleasure of thinking that word inquiry provides, not fast answers to confirm rightness or wrongness, a test, or instructions to use the word in a sentence to prove your understanding, but a luxuriating in the past, a drift to other words to unearth curiosities, the interconnections of words and the images conjured through surprising metaphors that help us to see the world, and text differently.

If the ploughing and furrow metaphor is intriguing for you as it was for me and my students (!!) read this article Straight Furrows from The Telegraph UK and see images of ploughing competitions where you are penalized if deviating from the straight and narrow. I wouldn’t last and that’s my last word!

Baby Talk

Tags

baby, bairn, child, chrisom-child, fauntelet, infant, kid, milksop, sucker, toddler, wenchel

A wonderful image of a working mother perhaps literally performing acrobatics and juggling work and motherhood! Picasso: Ink and watercolour on paper, 1905, Circus Artist and Child

When I was in labour with my first daughter, Imogen, my mother waiting anxiously to learn of her arrival, managed to knit for her a jacket complete with hood! As I waited anxiously a week ago for this same daughter to give birth thirty years later, I did not knit. Instead I mulled over baby words- not the words all too typically given in foolish lists to young learners, rather my focus was on words associated with babies and their morphologies and etymologies. Below the fruit of my labour!!

Baby

The word baby is comprised of two morphemes; the free base element <babe> and the diminutive suffix in this case <y>. Other examples of this diminutive suffix <-y>  is seen in puppy and bunny– a pet name for a rabbit or earlier a squirrel. The OED discusses the forms <-ie> and <-y> as common in forming pet names- for example Sally, Betty although <-ie> seems to be the more frequent after Scottish usage: grannie, mousie, dearie. The O.E.D. does state that the two words considered to have <-y> as a diminutive suffix to be:‘ baby (late 14th c.) and puppy (late 15th c.). Baby may perhaps be coupled daddy and mammy, although the evidence for these is not earlier than the 16th century; the pairs babe and baby, dad and daddy, mam and mammy, may have resulted from different phonetic reductions of original reduplicated forms.’

I was surprised to discover that baby is comparatively new to the English language, attested  only from 1440. Babe is older by forty seven years, attested, according to the OED, in 1393. The OED notes that the origin of babe is uncertain and possibly a reduplicated syllable /ba/ that is supposedly imitative of the first sounds produced by infants. This imitative first sound of infant vocalisation is thought also to underlie the word babble. The other etymological suggestion is that babe is perhaps an abbreviated form of baban – although the attestation of this is ‘scanty’  suggesting that this word baban was more colloquial, spoken rather than written. Baban, now archaic, is first attested from 1225 and the origin too is uncertain.

The word baby was broader in use applying to a child of any age, although now the main sense refers to the very young. Of course it is frequently heard as a term of endearment between couples and is ever present in popular songs. This use as a term of endearment was attested once in 1684 and then became more frequent only from 1862 as indicated in the OED citations.  Babe too has altered applying first to a child of any age. Occasionally today it applies to a very young child, although this is literary, the OED notes,  found in phrases such as ‘babe in arms’, ‘newborn babe’.  Since 1911 it has been used as a term of endearment, and then extended to any attractive woman since 1915. Later again, in 1973, it  extended further to refer to a sexually attractive man.

Infant:

“First the infant mewling and puking in his nurse’s arms!”( As you Like It, Act II , sc.VII, Shakespeare)

The root of infant can be traced to Latin fari to speak which comes from an even older etymon P.I.E. *bha- to speak, to tell or say. From this ancient root came Latin fama present participle of fari to speak and so words such as fable– a story told, fame– spoken about, fate– that which is spoken or foretold.  Infant with its negative prefix <in-> entered English from the French word enfant in 1382 and therefore literally is one who is not speaking.

The morphemes however take my breath away- <in+f+ant>!!  Dear reader, I hear you gasp! A single letter morpheme? Latin <-ari>  indicates the infinitive form of the verb fari and  the Latinate <-ari> typically is shed in English.The suffix <-ant> can be either agent or instrumental and while from Latin stem -entem, -āntem, -ēntem, words such as infant when adopted directly from French in their French forms, the suffix for a while became <-aunt> then later changed to <-ant>. I found forms of infant in the Middle English period spelled as enfaunt, infaunt even in the 16th century as inphant. At one time infant referred to unborn babies- now it mainly refers to the very young. However, it is still associated with the youngest children in terms of schooling and can have negative connotations as infantile, applied to anyone whose  actions are considered immature.

Fauntekin and fauntelet

I discovered the delightful words fauntekin and fauntelet, as I explored the words applying to the very young or newborns in the O.E.D’s  Historical Thesaurus. I wondered whether the <-aunt> suffix was present in these words: fauntekin– a little child, an infant , attested in 1377 and fauntelet also a little child, 1393.  Both words have  diminutive suffixes  <-kin> and <let>- droplet, piglet, rivulet (and there lies the possibility of another post just around diminutive suffixes!) Faunt existed as a free base element, now faded from regular usage and is the aphetic form of Old French enfaunt, enfant.

The term ‘aphetic’ I discovered  was coined in 1880 by J.H.A. Murray founding editor of the O.E.D. and refers to the language change process where there is a gradual loss of a short unaccented vowel in the initial position as seen in the change from esquire to squire, amend to mend. The words formed in this manner are called aphetic forms.  The words faunt, fauntekin and fauntelet share the root Latin fari, the morphological structure of these archaic words is <f+aunt+e+kin> and <f+aunt+e+let> with <-aunt>as the suffix allomorph of <-ant> with the <e>  a connecting vowel letter. Ineffable!Fabulous indeed-  oh affable infants!

A matrix merely hinting at some of the words related to this base from the Latin root fari, to speak.

Chrisom-child

Older than fauntekin, fauntelet, infant and babe is the compound word chrisom-child of 1275. This  originally referred to ‘ A child in its chrisom-cloth; a child in its first month; an innocent babe.’ You may, like me, wonder about the chrisom element- a free base?  In fact chrism was oil anointed at an infant’s baptism and chrisom  /ˈkrɪzəm/ a disyllabic pronunciation of this  according to the O.E.D .Chrism has been in English since 1000 A.D. and referred to the oil mixed with balm used in the sacraments in Catholic and later in Anglican services. As a religious word it was adopted directly from Latin into Old English and initially spelled as crisma. Later the <ch> digraph was added to reflect its Latinate root which was a transliteration of Greek χρίειν: khriein: to anoint. Cream too is related and there is of course more…

Digging around in the OED I could not initially find  any evidence of Greek roots in the family of <chrism> <chrisom> until I linked it with Christ.  The denotation of the title Christ is ‘the anointed’. Below the OED etymological entry:

‘Old English crist = Old Saxon and Old High German crist , krist (Old High German also christ ), < Latin Chrīstus , from Greek Χρῑστός Christ, noun use ofχρῑστός anointed ( < χρίειν to anoint), a translation of Hebrew māshīa χ, Messiah n., ‘anointed’, more fully m’shīa χ yahweh the Lord’s Anointed. This word and its derivatives and cognates (including chrism n. and its derivatives) were very rarely (and perhaps only accidentally) spelt with ch- in Middle English, but this has been the regular fashion since 1500; in French it began in the preceding century.’

Chrisom also referred to the ‘white robe, put on a child at baptism as a token of innocence: originally, perhaps merely a head-cloth, with which the chrism was covered up to prevent its being rubbed off. In the event of the child’s death within a month from baptism, it was used as a shroud: otherwise it, or its estimated value, was given as an offering at the mother’s purification’(O.E.D.)

Child

Child is  one of the oldest of the words associated with babies. It is a single morpheme- a free base element comprised of four phonemes :/tʃʌɪld/ with the digraph <ch> as the initial grapheme. It is from the Old English root cild when it denoted unborn, fetus, newborn. This etymon goes even further back to Proto Germanic *kiltham. The O.E.D. tells us that Old English cild was probably  cognate with Gothic kilþei ‘womb’ and  inkilþō ‘pregnant woman’ . The suggestion is that these share the same Indo-European root as  Gothic kalbo calf and classical Latin glēba, glaeba “clod, lump of earth”. There is an hypothesized link to Sanskrit jaṭhara ‘belly’, ‘womb’, although the OED cautions the dictionary reader that this link is  ‘uncertain and disputed’. There are no living relatives to child in other Germanic languages, Ayto states, although there are suggestions of connections to rounded bald heads as seen in ‘Old Icelandic kollr rounded tip, bald head and Old Swedish kulder , kolder (Swedish kull ), Old Danish kuldær , koldær , plural (Danish kuld )’. However, rather surprisingly there are no other relatives  in the Germanic languages including the German word kind .

The plural form of child and its slow accretion of suffixes is fascinating. In Old English cild was unchanged in the plural form rather like sheep so cild~ cild until about 975 (Online Etymology Dictionary) when the plural form became cildru. The OED discusses the process of change to cild~cildru~cildra to evolve into the double plural form children with the additional suffix <-en>. This is comparable to the development of brethren, plural of brother.

Bairn attested as early as 830 is from the Old English infinitive form beran to bear’ and is according to the OED a common Germanic word in : Old English as bearn. Cognates include Old Frisian bern, Old Saxon, Old High German, Middle High German, Gothic, Old Norse, Danish, Swedish barn, (Middle Dutch baren) This came from Germanic *barno-(m),which ultimately came from the Proto-Indo-European root *bher– give birth and carry. This ancient root has ‘spawned’ many words in English from both Germanic and non Germanic roots- Latin ferre, Greek pherein to bear, to carry. Many words in English retain this sense of carrying from these roots: barrow, bier,  berth, burden and perhaps even brim (Ayto).

Birth, born, borne and bairn all convey the sense of ‘giving birth.’ Intriguingly bairn meaning a small child was lost in German and Dutch and in southern English ‘ where the modern representation of Old English bearn would have been ‘bern’… or ‘ barn’. In fact, berne survived in the south to 1300, barn still survives in northern English, and was used by Shakespeare’  Bairn , the OED states is of the Scottish form used occasionally in literature.

Wenchel of Old English origins attested  c890, is another early word for a child and has done double duty both as child of either sex; as well as a servant or slave; or a common woman’. Etymology Online notes that ‘Old English wencel is probably related to wancol which has a meaning of  “unsteady, fickle, weak,” from Proto-Germanic*wankila- . This sense of helplessness and weakness is seen its cognates – Old Norse vakr “child, weak person,” Old High German wanchal”fickle”. All these words derive from Proto Indo European *weng- “to bend, curve” .

Baby words indicating smallness

The focus on the attribute of smallness to words applied to the very young is seen in many of the words and is often emphasized by diminutive suffixes as mentioned earlier with fauntelet and fauntekin but also:
tenderling attested in 1587, childling 1648, bratling 1652 – from brat which from its attestation in c1500 was negative in connotation and denoted a beggar’s child ‘A child, so called in contempt,’ states Johnson. In 16th and 17th c. it is sometimes used without contempt, though nearly always implying insignificance; weanie 1786, babelet 1856. However , a dab attested in 1833, a dot from 1859 and liddly a derivative of little was attested in 1929, emphasize smallness.
Baby words indicating the actions of babies

The actions of the newborn also lend themselves to the names applied to babies: sucker 1384, now archaic referred to a child at the breast, milksop 1500 although more frequently applied to the timid, weak and indecisive from 1390s (Chaucer’s Monk’s Tale:’ , 3100: Allas..that euere I was shape To wedden a milksop or a coward ape.’  Nurseling was attested in 1605 and teatling in 1631, hoppet 1695. A trudgeon was a nonce word used in 1814 to allude to the slow walk of the young ‘one who trudges, a toddling child’. Nestler followed later in 1866 and toddler is attested in 1890 from toddle : To walk or run with short unsteady steps, as a child just beginning to walk, an aged or invalid person; also said of a similar walk or run of any animal. (O.E.D.) Snork attested in 1941 of Australian, New Zealand slang is imitative indicating the snorting sounds made by the young baby.

Plant and animal metaphors

I found one example of a plant metaphor for babies in the Latinate flosculet used in 1648 . Small creatures, however, create popular metaphors for the young such as mite from 1853. Kid has been used to refer to children, and especially  young children from the 1590s.The OED states this term was ‘originally low slang, but by the 19th c. frequent in familiar speech.’ Following much later and adding diminutive suffixes came kidlet, kiddy, and kidling all from 1899. Another creature metaphor perhaps more negative or maybe merely reflecting  wry observation was pap-hawk attested from 1475 now disappeared. Perhaps this word refers to a baby’s rapacious consuming of milk from the breast.

Yearnling  <yearn+ling> is another word I discovered for a baby. This is a nonce word ( another term coined by James Murray of words used only the once in a specific occasion or in a particular text) Note the Old English suffix <-ling> I thought to be diminutive.  However, not always so. Read Online Etymology Dictionary for  a more detailed explanation of how this suffix is a possible fusion of two elements from <le> and <-ing>. In Old English this suffix indicated a person or thing associated with or concerned with the base element. In the Middle English period this suffix continued to be used as it was in Old English yet often in a negative or contemptuous sense such as vainling, worldling, groundling, earthling. It was more common to be diminutive if of Norse origins. Yet as this word is for the nonce coined by Charles Lamb, it may not be negative but convey a meaning of a longed for baby.

And below baby Nathaniel, inspiration of this post born on Jan 31st. We say all the fireworks in the sky on this evening and every year from now on are in celebration of his birth! Welcome to the world Nathaniel!