Language of Confusion: One Good Turn, Part III

Just a couple more weeks of this. Then I have to start coming up with etymology ideas again. Hm… could be a problem…

Anyway! Back to words that are related to turn—or rather, descended from the Proto Indo European word for turn, tere-, which is actually to turn or to rub, because words.

The first word we’re looking at this week is contour, which we probably should have looked at when we did tour, but whatever, might as well do it now. It first showed up in the mid seventeenth century as a term in painting and sculpture, where it meant the outline of a figure. Although amusingly enough, in the fifteenth century, contour referred to a quilt or bedspread falling over the sides of a mattress, and it wasn’t until the mid eighteenth century that it referred to a contour on a map. Contour itself comes from the French word contour, which is from the Italian contornare, to border, which itself is from the Medieval Latin contornare (yeah, same spelling), to go around. It’s a mix of the prefix com-, probably just an intensive here, and tornare, to turn on a lathe. And that’s from tere-. So a contour is… just really turning something?

Next today, we’re looking at diatribe, which is in no way related to tribe so don’t bother asking. It showed up as an English word in the mid seventeenth century, although people were using the Latin version of the word from the late sixteenth century. It’s original meaning was a continued discourse or critical dissertation, so I’m guessing it was used in a college setting, which would be why it spent several decades only being used in Latin. It’s related to the French diatribe, which is just diatribe, and from the Latin diatriba, a lecture. Like many Latin words, it was taken from Greek, which meant things like employment or study, or discourse, or a literal wasting away of time. The dia- means away, and tribein, which means scrub, erode, or wear—you know, like you’d do by rubbing. And that’s why it’s from tere-. Rubbing wears something away. Because of that, we have diatribe.

Also not related to tribe is tribulation. It showed up in the thirteenth century from the Old French tribulacion and the Church Latin tribulationem, distress or affliction. Of course it would be a church word. The verb of it is tribulare, to oppress or afflict, which was taken from the classical Latin version of the word, which literally meant to press. It’s from the verb terere, to rub or erode or waste, and of course that’s just tere- with an extra -re on it.

Finally today: trauma. Yeah, I was surprised to hear that it’s related, too. It showed up in the late seventeenth century meaning a physical wound. It was taken from the Latin trauma, which was taken from the Greek trauma, a wound or defeat. That’s actually from the Proto Indo European word trau-, which is just another form of tere-.You might be wondering how rubbing and turning relates to wounds, well, it’s thought to be in a sense of twisting and piercing. Doing that to someone would definitely make a wound.

Sources

Online Etymology Dictionary

Google Translate

Omniglot

University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center

University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language

Dictionary of Medieval Latin

Language of Confusion: The Tributes, Part I

There are a surprising amount of words related to tribute, hence the “Part I” in the title. This week will be the words that begin with trib-.

Tribe first showed up in the mid thirteenth century, referring specifically to the ancient Hebrew tribes rather than groups of people in general. It came from the Old French tribu and classical Latin tribus, which means three and referred to the three ethnic divisions of Rome and later on the 30+ political divisions. So because some guys translated a word from the Bible as tribe and some other guys divided the ethnicities of Rome into three groups, we have the word tribe now.

We also have tribute, which I’m sure will be in no way convoluted. It showed up in the mid fourteenth century, so a century after tribe, meaning money or something else valuable given from one ruler to another in order to keep them from attacking you—basically, it was like protection money paid to the mob. It comes from the Anglo French tribute and Old French tribute, and before that, the classical Latin tributum, taxes. That word comes from the verb tribuere, grant or allot, and descended from tribus.

Next we’re going to look at tribune and tribunal. The former came first, in the late fourteenth century, coming from the title of a Roman official, tribunus, and of course it’s related to tribus, haven’t you learned anything? Tribunal showed up a little later, in the early fifteenth century from the Old French tribunal and classical Latin…tribunal. Wow, not trying at all. Anyway, it literally translates to platform, because that was the seat for the magistrates (AKA the tribunus).

Tributary, which is what we call a body of water combining with a bigger body of water, didn’t get that meaning until the early nineteenth century. Before that, it just meant a person or country or whatever that pays tribute to someone else, a meaning it had when it showed up in the late fourteenth century. It came from the classical Latin tributarius, paying money or forced labor, which comes from tributum, which you may remember from two paragraphs ago as meaning taxes.

Finally, you may know the word tribulation and be thinking how it well fit with the others since tribulations certainly feel like something you have to pay. Ha ha, no. Not related. Like, at all. Tribulation showed up in the early thirteenth century from the Old French tribulacion and the Ecclesiastical Latin (which is a variety of Late Latin used in churches, because they just had to have their own language for church) tribulationem, distress or affliction. Apparently the Christians back then took the classical Latin word tribulare, to press, in a metaphoric sense. It comes from the word tribulum, which means thistle or threshing sledge. The tri- comes from terere, grind or waste (and the origin of throw, by the way), while the -bulum is stuck on the end to signify that it was a tool. Un-freaking-believable. It’s a coincidence. It totally fits but it’s a complete coincidence. What the hell, words? What. The. Hell.

Sources

Online Etymology Dictionary

Google Translate

Omniglot

Orbis Latinus

University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center

Fordham University