Language Of Confusion: Per-, Part IX

Could it be? Are we actually looking at the last set of words descended from the Proto Indo European per-, forward? I can’t believe it is!
 
First we’re going to look at frame. Yes, like a picture frame, though that didn’t show up until the mid seventeenth century, while when it showed up in the thirteenth century it meant to profit or to benefit, and then parts of a structure fitted together in the fifteenth, which then started to mean an enclosing border in the seventeenth century, and then a picture frame. The word itself is from the Old English framian, which means to further or to profit or benefit, and that’s from fram, which means forward or, uh, from. Yeah. Frame is from from. And from is from can be traced to per-, we just went over it a while ago.
 
Next is furnish—it’s about time these got weird. Furnish showed up in the mid fifteenth century, coming from the Vulgar Latin fornire/fromire, which is actually from the Germanic frumjan and Proto Germanic fram-, which is where frame and from come from. I mean, I can almost see the logic of forward turning into furnish, but it’s a hell of a walk. And of course furniture is from the same place, having shown up in the sixteenth century meaning the act of supplying or providing, and then starting to mean household furniture fifty years later—interestingly, English is the only language that has this. Other languages words for furniture are related to mobile (because you can move furniture). Anyway, it’s from the French fourniture, supply, from the Old French forneture and its verb form fornir, which comes from the same place furnish does.
 
Another word from furnish? Veneer. Yes, like to cover something with a veneer. It showed up in 1702 from the German Furnier, and its verb form. That’s actually also from fornir, meaning veneer and furnish are pretty closely related for words that have very little in common.
 
Now, for the last word: fret—not like a guitar fret, which is different, but worrying fret. It comes from the Old English fretan, to devour, and that’s what it meant originally, before it started to mean to worry (it does eat away at you). Before fretan, it was the Proto Germanic fra-etan, with the fra- meaning completely and being from per-. This is certainly an odd one.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Encyclopaedia Britannica

Language Of Confusion: Per-, Part VIII

Back again, somehow still looking at the Proto Indo European per-, forward. Now for all the words with F in them! That could be spooky for Halloween.

Okay, maybe not.
 
First is fore (also for, but I already etymologized that word). It comes from the Old English fore, which means… before. Not expecting any shocking revelations here. It’s from the Proto Germanic fura, which is then from the Proto Indo European prae-, from per-, just with an F instead of a P because that happens with a lot of words. Fore was a lot more common before it was replaced by before, which is from the Old English beforan, which also means before. The be- is actually from by and the rest from the Proto Germanic forana, which has fora as a verb form and is then from per-. Fore was before before.
 
Far comes from the Middle English fer, Old English feor, and Proto Germanic ferro, from per-. Then we have farther, which showed up in the late fourteenth century, and it’s actually from further. Further was furðer/forðer in Old English, which is either forth + -er or fore + -ther. Fore we just looked at. Forth is from the Old English forð, which is also just from fore. Not a big leap here.
 
And you know what other word is closely related? Afford. It comes from the Middle English aforth and Old English geforðian, to put forth, and yes, the ge- really turned into an a- here and means on or onto. The rest is from forð, just like forth. Afford is to forth onto. No, I don’t get it either. Apparently, after it started as “to put forth” in Old English, it started to mean accomplish, which then in English started to mean to have enough money for something. That… doesn’t really clarify things.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
University of Texas at Arlington
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary

Language Of Confusion: Per-, Part VII

We’re still doing this? Yes, it seems so, as there are many more words that come from the Proto Indo European per-, forward. It’s long past time for these to start getting weird.
 
First, a word that at least has per- in it. Impervious showed up in the mid seventeenth century from the classical Latin impervius, which, you know, just means impervious. The in- means not or opposite of here, and pervius means accessible or allowing things to pass through. If you break it down further, the per- is from per-, while the -vius is from via, road or way. Impervious is not passing through.
 
There’s also reciprocal, which has pro- in it so is obviously related. It showed up in the later sixteenth century from the classical Latin reciprocus, another word we need to break down. Re- means back, and -cus was stuck at the end to make it an adjective, then procus, which is pro (forward) and another -cus. Reciprocal is forward and back. Hm, these aren’t as weird as I thought.
 
Okay, former has to be weird. It showed up in the mid twelfth century from the Old English forma, which actually means first. That’s from the Proto Germanic fruma/furma, which is then from the Proto Indo European pre-mo-, from per-. Since one of per-’s definitions is first, former is first. Damn, that’s not weird at all.
 
Well, profane should be fun. It showed up as a verb in the late fourteenth century and an adjective in the mid fifteenth. It’s from the Old French profaner/prophaner and classical Latin profanare, to desecrate. Obviously the pro- comes from per- and means before, but the rest? That’s from the Latin fanum, temple or sanctuary. So profane is… before a temple. Well, at least this one’s weird.
 
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
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary

Language Of Confusion: Per-, Part VI

There’s still more to look at from the Proto Indo European per-, forward. Quite a lot more, actually.
 
First, we’re going to look at prompt, which showed up in the mid fourteenth century as a verb, then the early fifteenth century as a noun and adjective. It comes from the classical Latin promptus, prompt or ready, which is from the verb promere, to bring forth. The pro literally means forward (from per-, of course), and the rest is emere, to take. Prompt is to take forward. I’m not sure if that makes sense or if my brain broke.
 
There’s also protest, which I believe I looked at with test words a very long time ago. It showed up in the fifteenth century meaning a pledge or declaration, then meaning a statement of disapproval in the eighteenth century, then a formal declaration of being against something in the nineteenth, and finally what we use it for in 1942—that recently! It’s from the Old French protest (not at all surprised protest is French), with the pro meaning forth or before, and the rest meaning testify. A protest is testifying before. I guess.
 
Next, how about prophet, which is very old, having shown up in the late twelfth century. It’s from the Old French prophete/profete and classical Latin propheta, and they of course took it from the Greek prophetes. Pro again means before, while the rest is from the Greek phanai, to speak. Prophets speak forward.
 
Prodigal showed up in the sixteenth century meaning lavish or wasteful, from the French prodigal and Late Latin prodigalis. That’s then from the classical Latin prodigus, lavish, with the pro- meaning forth, and the rest from the verb agere, to set in motion or act. Not sure how it got to lavish and wasteful from there, but apparently it did.
 
Finally today: approximate. It showed up as a verb in the fifteenth century and an adjective two centuries later, from the Late Latin approximatus, and its verb form approximare, to come near to. The a- comes from ad-, to, and the rest is the classical Latin verb proximare, to approach. That’s then from prope, near, from the PIE propro, on and on, from per-. And that’s how on and on leads to approximate.
 
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
Orbis Latinus

Language Of Confusion: Per, Part V

We’re back looking at the Proto Indo European per-, forward, which shows up in a lot of places.
 
First this week, prime, which showed up in the late fourteenth century from the Old French prime and classical Latin primus, first. That’s actually from the Proto Italic prismos, from the PIE preis-, before, which of course is from per-. Now that’s a very sensible etymology.
 
Then there’s premiere, which didn’t show up until 1889 in reference to the first performance of a play. It was taken directly from premier, which premiered (couldn’t resist) in the mid fifteenth century and meant first until 1711 when it was used to mean the “first minister of a state”. It’s from the French premier, first, and that’s also from primus, big surprise. Every other prime word is from primus, too, like primal, which showed up in the seventeenth century through the Medieval Latin primalis, and primary, in the fifteenth century.
 
We also have prior, which showed up in the early eighteenth century directly from the classical Latin prior, before. So. Not much change there. It’s from the Proto Indo European prai- and prei-, which of course are from pre-. Really didn’t change much. A religious prior is also related, from the Middle English priour and before that, the Medieval Latin prior, a superior officer. And that’s from the Latin prior. I do see the relationship between superior and before, though it’s weird that the noun version of the word came through English, and appeared likely before the other one.
 
Next is proud. It comes from the Old English prud, Old French prud, Late Latin prode, and classical Latin prodesse, to benefit. The pro- part is from per, while the esse part is to be, which would make this to be forward. Hm. Anyway, related to that is the word prowess, which showed up in the early thirteenth century meaning an act of bravery. It’s from the Old French proece, which happens to also be from prud. Prowess and proud are related. Who knew?
 
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
University of Texas at Arlington
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Dictionary of Medieval Latin
Orbis Latinus

Language Of Confusion: Per, Part IV

We still have plenty of words left that are descended from the Proto Indo European per-, forward.
 
First of all, paradise. It showed up first in late Old English specifically referring to the garden of Eden, and it comes from the Old French paradis, Late Latin paradisus, and the Greek paradeisos. Interestingly enough, that actually comes from Avestan origin—Avestan being an Arabic language in the third and fourth centuries—and in fact the modern Arabic word firdaus means paradise. So Avestan had the word pairidaeza, enclosure or park, where pairi- means around and is from per- while the rest is from diz, to make or form a wall.
 
Pardon showed up in the fourteenth century, from the Old French pardon/pardoner, Medieval Latin perdonum, and Vulgar Latin perdonare. The per is of course form per, through in Latin, and going through something is going forward, I guess. The rest of the word is from the classical Latin donare, to give, the origin word of donor. To pardon is to give a gift. Through.
 
Next, paramount, which showed up in the mid sixteenth century from the Anglo French/Old French paramont, which is also from the Latin per plus amont, which means upward or upstream (and is the origin of amount). Paramount is through upwards. I guess something paramount is upwards of everything?
 
Paramour is weirdly funny. It showed up in the early fourteenth century, from the Anglo French/Old French par amour, and you know the par is from per, while the rest is from amare, to love. Paramour is to love through. The funny part? Originally, paramour was used to refer to Jesus—by women—or the Virgin Mary—by men. Make of that what you will.
 
Promise showed up in the fourteenth century from the Old French promesse and classical Latin promissum, promised. The verb form is promittere, with the pro- from per- and the mittere meaning to send or release—the origin of mission, a word I looked at a very long time ago.
 
Finally today, we’ll look at pristine. It showed up in the mid sixteenth century, but back then it meant primitive or earliest period, not meaning pure until 1899—and back then, it was slang that educated people would not use to mean something like untouched. It’s from the French pristin, and classical Latin pristinus, which actually means former or original, with the pri- meaning before in Old Latin (and from per of course). The takeaway here? Pristine is slang! If you use it to mean pure or untouched, you’re using it wrong!!!
 
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
University of Texas at Arlington
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Dictionary of Medieval Latin
Encyclopaedia Britannica
Fordham University
Orbis Latinus
BrightHub [https://www.brighthubeducation.com/]

Language Of Confusion: Per-, Part III

Once again, we’re looking at the words descended from the Proto Indo European per-, forward. Now that we have the prefixes out of the way, we can look at some of the words that grew out of them.
 
First, protocol. It showed up in the mid fifteenth century (also spelled prothogol and prothogall), from the French prothocole and Medieval Latin protocollum, and guess what? Back then it meant prologue, then a draft of a document, the minutes of a meeting, rough draft, diplomatic document, and finally in French, the “formula of diplomatic etiquette”. Which English picked up for use in 1896, and not really meaning proper conduct until 1952. Anyway, that protocollum comes from the Greek protokollon, with the proto- from the prefix meaning first, and the rest from kolla, which means… glue. Yeah, protocol is “first glue”.
 
Next, prone showed up in the fifteenth century, from the classical Latin pronus, which figuratively means prone and literally means bent forward. And that’s believed to be taken from the pro- prefix, which means forward. Being prone is being bent towards something. Sometimes literally!
 
A little more surprising is approach. It showed up in the fourteenth century from the Anglo French approcher, Old French aprochier, and Late Latin appropiare. The a- prefix is from ad, to, and the rest is from propiare, come nearer, related to the classical Latin prope. Prope is then from the PIE propro, even further, and that’s from per-, forward. To approach is to get nearer to. Rapprochement is actually from the same place. It showed up in 1809, from the French rapprochement, where the re- means back or again and the rest is the abovementioned aprochier. Rapprochement is near again… ment.
 
Reproach is weirdly different. It showed up in the mid fourteenth century from the Anglo French repruce, Old French reproche, and its verb form reprochier, which looks quite similar to the approach one. One possibility is that’s from the Vulgar Latin repropiare, with the re- meaning opposite of, and the rest from prope, near, which doesn’t quite make sense (this is etymology after all). Another theory is that it’s related to the classical Latin reprobus/reprobare, to reject, with the probare being the origin word of prove. And what word did we start this whole series with? Yes, so either way, reproach is from per-.
 
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
Encyclopaedia Britannica
Fordham University
Orbis Latinus

Language Of Confusion: Per-, Part II

We’re back once again looking at the Proto Indo European per-, which means forward, and is a part of a lot of words. This week: all the prefixes it’s part of.
 
First is pro-, which means forward, toward the front, before, taking care of, and in place or behalf of, all of which are kind of related to forward—and it can be a word on its own, either short for professional or the opposite of con. All of them are from the classical Latin pro, which means for as well as pretty much any of the definitions I gave you for the pro- prefix up there. Obviously that’s from the PIE per-, but also related is the prefix per- (shouldn’t be surprising). Per- usually means through or thoroughly and tends to be part of words that are of French and Latin origin. It’s from per, which is taken from Latin, and again, from the PIE per-.
 
We also have pre-, which also means before. It’s from the Old French pre-, Medieval Latin pre-, and classical Latin prae (means before, and is a seldom used prefix in English). That’s from the Proto Indo European peri-, which is just another form of per-. And speaking of peri-, that’s from here, too. It’s actually a prefix used in words of Greek origin and means around or enclosing, literally meaning about. And that’s from per-, because forward—or in front of—is about near something.
 
And we can’t forget para-, another Greek prefix. Para means despite in Greek, or in spite of, although, or than. And yes, it’s from per-. Something para- is near or metaphorically forward. The final prefix we’re going to look at is proto-, and yet again, it’s mostly in front of words of Greek origin, and from the Greek proto, which means first. Something that’s first, is forward. Thankfully that one’s simple.

 
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: Per-, Part I

This series is going to be super long, because the Proto Indo European per-, forward has spawned a LOT of words, most of which I’ve never looked at before. So it’s going to be busy, is what I’m saying.
 
First, the word that sent me down this rabbit hole: prove. It showed up in the thirteenth century from the Old French prover/pruver, from the classical Latin probare, to prove, which is from the PIE pro-bhwo, being in front, and that pro- is from -per. Proving is putting stuff in front? I guess I can see it on a figurative level. Proof is pretty close, showing up in the same century but from the Anglo French prove/preove, Old French proeve/prueve, and Late Latin proba, which is then from probare. There doesn’t seem to be a real reason for the V to F thing, other than some words (relief, belief) just do that. Fun fact, proof in use of alcohol is from 1705, because its degree of strength was tested (or proven).
 
Similarly, there’s approve, which showed up in the fourteenth century. That was aprover in Old French, and approbare in Latin, so there really hasn’t been much variation over the years. With the prefix ad- meaning to, approbare is literally to forward something, and figuratively it means to test something, which I guess would move it forward. There’s also improve, which showed up in the late fifteenth century, actually meaning to increase income, which of course leads to things improving. It’s from the Anglo French emprouwer, which is a mix of the prefix em-, which is causative here, and prou, which means… profit. And that’s not the end, either. Prou comes from the classical Latin prode, again, profit, the origin word for proud.
 
Yes, proud is related. It comes from the Old English prud/prute, also just proud. That’s from the Old French prud, from the adjective prouz (which actually means brave or valiant), which is from the Latin prode. And there’s also probe, which showed up in the early fifteenth century specifically meaning a flexible rod for exploring wounds or body cavities (ew). It was taken directly from the Medieval Latin proba, which is from probare. Because you’re testing the body. With a probe. Again, ew.
 
One more for today, profit, which was already mentioned a few times. It showed up in the mid thirteenth century from the Old French profit/profit and classical Latin profectus, growth, so yes, it does not come directly from the Latin word for profit. Profectus is from the verb proficere, to make progress, with facere meaning to do and the pro meaning forward, taken from per-.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
Dictionary.com
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Dictionary of Medieval Latin
Fordham University
Orbis Latinus

Language Of Confusion: Food!

I actually etymologized food already, so I’m just going to skim it a bit as there are many other words to look at.
 
Food comes from the Middle English foode/fode, Old English foda, and Proto Germanic fodon. Feed is from the Old English fedan, and both of those are from the Proto Indo European pa-, to feed, the origin of such words as pastor. And pester.
 
Similarly, there’s fodder, which is from the Old English fodder, Proto Germanic fodram, which is from pa- as well. Then there’s forage, which showed up in the early fourteenth century, from the Old French forrage, from fuerre, hay or straw, which is from the Frankish fodr, food, another word from fodram. Foray showed up in the late fourteenth century, and it’s actually Scottish in origin, and it’s thought to be from the Middle English forreyer, from the Old French forrier, another word from forage.
 
You know what else is related? Fur. Yeah. It showed up in the late fourteenth century, first meaning the lining of a garment, not meaning an animal pelt until a century later! It’s from the Old French forrer/fourer, from fuerre, except here it means sheath or scabbard instead of hay. But it’s still also from the Frankish fodr, which makes me think that it’s just another word that somehow has two completely different meanings. Also please note that foster is from pa-, too. It’s from the Old English fóstrian, from fostor, food or nourishment, from the Proto Germanic fostra-, from -a-. You foster something with food.
 
How about some words that actually start with pa-? Pantry showed up in the early fourteenth century, from the Anglo French panetrie (which literally meant bread room), Medieval Latin panataria, and classical Latin panis, bread, from pa-. Bread is the main food for pretty much everywhere. Funny enough, antipasto is from pa-, too. It didn’t show up in English until 1929, from the Italian word, where the anti- means before and pasto means meal or food. And pasto just happens to be from the Latin pascere. So you might be thinking pasta is from the same place. Ha ha, no. Not even a little. Pasta is from the same word as quash.
 
There’s one more word we’re going to look at, and like always, I save the best for last. That word? Company. Yes, it has pan in it, but can it really be related to pantry? It showed up in the mid twelfth century, from the Old French compagnie, Late Latin companio. That word is made up of com, with, and that panio is from panis. Company—or companion—is someone you have bread with.

I’m off for two weeks! I’ll probably have pictures posted, as usual. Later!
 
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
University of Texas at Arlington
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Dictionary of Medieval Latin
Encyclopaedia Britannica
Fordham University
Orbis Latinus

Language Of Confusion: Pest

Brought to you my cat Bluey, who just scratched me. Because she’s a pest.

 
Pest showed up in the mid sixteenth century, a little after pester, which it seems to not be related to. It’s from the French peste, which means plague or pestilence, and its origin before that is unknown—though I want to add that pesky is actually thought to be related to pest, too. Then there’s pester, which is not related to pest and actually originally meant to clog or entangle, not meaning to annoy until a few decades later, probably because of the word pest. It’s short for the French empestrer, to put in an embarrassing situation, from the Vulgar Latin impastoriare, to hobble an animal, and that’s a mix of the prefix im-, meaning in, and the Medieval Latin phrase pastoria chorda, to rope an animal. In classical Latin, pastoria means pastoral, so like a pastoral animal, with a rope around it. And that’s pester.

 
And of course that’s where pastor, pasture, and pastoral come from. Pastor showed up in the late fourteenth century meaning a shepherd, and figuratively a minister. Pastoral showed up in the early fifteenth century, and pasture also from the fourteenth century. Pasture is from the Old French pasture, from the Late Latin pastura, and that’s from the classical Latin pastus, grazing, from the verb pascere, the origin for all of these words that means feed. That’s from the Proto Indo European pa-, to protect or feed, the origin for a bunch of other words I’ll have to etymologize at some point. Maybe next week.
 
The TL;DR here is that pest is probably not related to pester, and pester is related to pastoral. Because etymology.
 
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
Encyclopaedia Britannica

Language of Confusion: Numerous

Number showed up in the fourteenth century meaning a sum, and then a century later meaning an arithmetic figure. It comes from the Anglo French noumbre, Old French nombre, and classical Latin numerus (origin of numeral, by the way, while numerous is actually from the classical Latin numerosus). That’s from the Proto Indo European nem-, assign, allot, or take, and you know that has a bunch of unexpected descendants.
 
First of all, anything that ends in -nomy, such as astronomy. That word actually showed up way back in the thirteenth century (so yes, it’s older than number), from the Old French astrenomie, from the classical Latin astronomia, and that of course was taken from the Greek astronomia. That was taken from astronomos, where astron means star and the nomos means law or regulation. Astronomy is star law. And since nomos is from nem-,  star number isn’t entirely incorrect either.
 
How about a word that looks like number but can’t possibly be related? By that I mean numb, which showed up in the fifteenth century, meaning deprived of feeling or powerless, but also taken or seized—fun fact, the B at the end didn’t show up until the seventeenth century. It’s from the Old English niman, to seize, which, yes, is from nem-. So the take version of nem transformed into seize, which transformed into numb. Because I guess you’re “seized” if you’re without feeling.
 
But even crazier, nomad is from the same place. It showed up in the mid sixteenth century from the French nomade, which was taken from the classical Latin Nomas, which is what they called the nomads in Arabia. It’s taken from the Greek nomas, nomad, from nomos, which… yes, like astronomy. Except in this case, the nomos specifically refers to land allotted—like nem-.
 
Finally today, nemesis. Really. It showed up in the late sixteenth century from the Greek god, which is taken from the word for righteous anger, or the distribution of what is due. It’s related to nemein, distribute or allot, which is from nem-. So because the anger is distributed righteously, we have nemesis.
 
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
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Fordham University

Language Of Confusion: Meter, Part II

Time to once again look at the words related to meter, which are all from the Proto Indo European me-, to measure. Last week was the normal ones. Well, relatively.
 
Like I said last week, month is related to it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve etymologized this word before, not that I remember when. It comes from the Old English monaþ, which is just month with a letter for -th. That’s from the Proto Germanic menoth, which is from menon-, the origin word for moon. I think it’s common knowledge that a month is about equal to the cycle of the moon, so it makes sense it comes from there. Moon itself is from the Middle English mone and Old English mona, which is also from the Germanic menon-. And that’s from the PIE me-, to measure, because it is a measurement of the moon’s phases. That didn’t quite work out for calendars, but the name stuck.
 
And it shouldn’t be a surprise that measure is from the same place, too. It showed up in the early fourteenth century as a verb (spelled mesuren, actually) and earlier in the thirteenth century it was a noun, however back then, the words referred to moderation before it came to mean taking a measurement. The words are from the Old French mesurer/mesure, from the Late Latin mensurare and classical Latin mensura. That’s from the verb metiri, to measure, which is more obviously related to meter and is from me-. So Latin dropped the T and put in an N, then French dropped the N, too.
 
There’s also immense, which you can kind of see—immense means great beyond measure. It showed up in the early fifteenth century from the classical Latin immensus, same meaning. Mensus means measured, and is from metiri as well, while the prefix is from in and means not or opposite of. Immense is the opposite of measured.
 
Then we have dimension. It showed up in the late fourteenth century, from the classical Latin dimensionem. Like the previous word, the second half is from metiri, and here the prefix dis is probably intensive, because it usually means apart, away, or not, and that really doesn’t make sense. A dimension is a measurement of something finite, let’s leave it at that.
 
The last word we’re going to look at is meal, but in this case, it means the food occasion, not ground grain, which I have to inform you is not related at all. Meal showed up in the late twelfth century from the Old English mael, which means a meal, a measure, or a mark in measurement, so you can see how it’s related. It’s from the Proto Germanic mela, which is from me-. Apparently because a meal is a fixed (or measured) occasion, it is related to measure.
 
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
University of Texas at Arlington
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Orbis Latinus

Language Of Confusion: Meter, Part I

Boy, does this word show up in a lot of places.
 
All versions of meter, whether poetic or a unit of distance, ultimately come from the same place, though interestingly, it seems like the poetic meter is actually the first version to show up in English sometime around the fourteenth century, while the unit didn’t appear until the eighteenth century. The words come from the classical Latin metrum, which means meter in the sense of measure, from the Greek metron, which is traced back to the Proto Indo European me-, to measure. So a meter is a measure. And though you might think that mete is somehow related, no, it’s not even a little.
 
What is related is any word that ends in -meter or -metry. The former means an instrument for measuring—so a thermometer is an instrument for measuring temperature, a barometer for measuring pressure—while the latter means process of measuring. Geometry, for example, is -metry plus Gaia of all things, making geometry literally the process of measuring land. Similarly, symmetry, which showed up in the mid sixteenth century, is from the Latin symmetria, where the syn- means together and the rest is from metron. So a measure together. There’s also metronome, a musical time keeper, which showed up in 1815. It’s not exactly from meter, instead taken directly from the Greek metron, with the addition of the PIE root nem-, assign, allot, or take.
 
Also from meter is semester, which didn’t show up until 1827 meaning a period of six months (it seemed a lot longer in school). It’s actually German in origin, though that was taken from the classical Latin semestris, from the phrase cursus semestris, a semester (or six month) course. That mestris is actually from mensis, month, which is from me-, but we’ll get more into that next week.
 
Finally today, commensurate. Which isn’t really used much these days, but means corresponding in magnitude. It showed up in the mid seventeenth century from the Late Latin commensuratus, which is a mix of the Latin com, together, and mensura, a measure. Commensurate is measuring together? Wait, isn’t that just symmetry?
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
Orbis Latinus

Language Of Confusion: Wait, Part II

The second and final part in looking at the origin of wait, the Proto Indo European weg-, to be strong or lively. Most of last week was easy to see how wait could be related. This week… not so much.
 
I’ve actually done most of these words before, but all of them a long while ago and their relation to wait has to be expanded upon. For example, wicked of all words. It showed up in the thirteenth century  from wick—not like a candle wick but rather an old way of saying wicked that has nothing to do with wicks. It’s from the Old English wicca, which means… witch. And you know that’s where witch comes from, too. Before that, it’s thought to be related to wigle, divination, which is from the Proto Germanic wikkjaz, necromancer, and that word is from weg-. I guess a necromancer is making things lively, as it were.
 
Next, there’s surveillance. It didn’t show up until the early nineteenth century from the French surveillance, monitoring. That’s from the verb surveiller, to watch, which is a mix of the prefix sur-, over, and veiller, to watch, which is from the classical Latin vigilare, the origin word for vigil. Vigil is from weg-, so that’s how surveillance is related to vigil and wait, but not survey.
 
The only one of these words I haven’t already looked at is velocity, and that one isn’t even definite. It showed up in the early fifteenth century from the classical Latin velocitatem, speed, which has an uncertain origin. It may be from vehere, to ride (the origin for vehicle) or it may be right from weg-. Since weg- meas to be lively, I could see it being true, more so than wait. But you know etymology doesn’t make sense.
 
Finally, vegetable. Yeah. Already done that word, too. It showed up in the early fifteenth century, coming from the Old French vegetable, Medieval Latin/Late Latin vegetabilis, and the classical Latin vegetare, to vegetate. That’s from vegere, to grow, which is from weg-. That “to be lively” thing is quite literal here.
 
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
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Dictionary of Medieval Latin
Orbis Latinus

Language Of Confusion: Wait, Part I

What am I, a waiter?

Anyway, wait showed up in the thirteenth century meaning to watch for with hostile intent—like lay in wait. It wasn’t until the late fourteenth century that it meant to stay in a place, see to it that something occurs, or to attend to, and from that last meaning, it start to mean to wait tables in the mid sixteenth century. It comes from the Anglo French/Old North French watier, to watch, from the Frankish wahton, Proto Germanic what-, and all the way back to the Proto Indo European weg-, to be strong or lively. Which I guess you need to be if you’re laying in wait for someone.
 
A lot of other words related to watchfulness come from weg-. You know, like watch. That actually comes from the Old English waecce, watch, and waeccan, to keep watch, and that’s from the Proto Germanic wakjan, which is also from weg-. Who would have thought, watch and wait?
 
Also unsurprisingly related is wake—but only the waking up one, the one related to boats is not from the same origin. Wake is actually from the Old English words wacan, to awake, and wacian, to be awake (I guess those things used to be separate), and like watch is from wakjan, wake is from the Proto Germanic wakjanan. Weird that they took on such different sounds.
 
Let’s see what Latin has done to the word. Vigil is also related, having shown up in the thirteenth century meaning the eve of a religious festival—or keeping watch on a festival eve—not coming to mean keeping awake on purpose until 1711. It’s from the Anglo French/Old French vigile, from the classical Latin vigilia (watch), and finally weg-. There’s also vigor, which showed up in the fourteenth century from the Anglo French vigour and Old French vigor, which are from the Latin vigorem, strength. So Latin makes it so we turned the W into a V. Sure.
 
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
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Fordham University

Language Of Confusion: Knot

Inspired by last week, with knot somehow not being related to the Proto Indo European word for bind or tie. Knot actually comes from the Old English cnotta, intertwining of ropes or cords, and at its earliest is from the Proto Germanic knuttan-. You’d think that be related to last week’s ned-, especially since that’s where net is from, but there’s no evidence of that, and as we all know, words are stupid.
 
There actually aren’t any other words related to knot. It’s a total stand alone! But we can still find stuff to talk about. First of all, knot as a nautical measure of speed. That showed up in the mid seventeenth century, and is because of the log line of a sailing ship. A log is a measure of a ship’s progress, because a log, as in a piece of wood, was used on the log line. The log line was let out behind the ship, and it would pull out the rope at regular knotted intervals, and the faster it went, the more knots were pulled out—hence, knots per hour.
 
Still awfully short. How about we look at the Kn combination. Isn’t it weird? There’s just a K there, and we don’t even pronounce it. It showed up in Middle English as the spelling for a common Germanic sound combination—they actually say the K sound there, so in other Germanic languages, it’s k-nife and k-night, and in fact we used to say it, too, but stopped around the mid eighteenth century. In Old English, they used a C in place of the K (which is why it’s cnotta up there), but it was the same sound. Just another reason why the letter C is redundant.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
University of Texas at Arlington
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary

Language Of Confusion: Connection

Another single-parter. Shocking, I know.
 
Connect showed up in the mid fifteenth century, from the classical Latin conectere (I bet you can guess what that means). It’s actually a mix of the prefix com, together, and nectere, to bind together. Or, you know, connect. Connecting is… connecting with. That nectere is from the Proto Indo European ned-, to bind or tie, and that one is part of quite a few words.
 
First of all, there’s annex, which showed up in the late fourteenth century from the Old French annexer, Medieval Latin annexare, and classical Latin annectere, to attach. The ad- means to, so with nectere, annex means to bind to. Nexus is also from that word, having shown up in the mid seventeenth century meaning a bond, the dependence between members of a group, or a means of communication. It’s directly from the classical Latin version of the word, which literally means connection and is the past participle of nectere. Because a nexus was a means of communication, it became known as the core or center of something.
 
Speaking of centers, node is also related. It showed up in the early fifteenth century meaning a knot or lump, then a point of intersection specifically in astronomy before it came into more general use. Anyway, it’s from the classical Latin nodus, knot, which is also from ned-. Nodule is from almost the same place, though it’s older, having shown up in the fifteenth century. It’s from the classical Latin nodulus, nodule, a diminutive of nodus.
 
Also related is the word net, but not as in net profit, only like netting. It’s from the Old English net and Proto Germanic natjo-, and it’s thought to be something knotted, and so from ned-. It’s probably in the same vein that noose is related. That word showed up in the mid fifteenth century, and it’s thought to be from the Old Provençal nous, or knot, which is from ned-. I mean, nooses are knotted. With all these knots showing up, you’d think knot would be related, but for the record, no, it’s not.

 
And now for the denouement. Literally. That word is related. It showed up in the mid eighteenth century from the French dénouement, which is from the verb dénouer, meaning… untie. Because a denouement is the solution of a mystery or winding up of a plot—or an untying. It’s a mix of the prefix dis-, un or out and nouer, to tie, which is from ned-. And I have to admit, that one makes sense.
 
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
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Dictionary of Medieval Latin

Language Of Confusion: Potential

Today’s lesson is brought to you by the fact that potent is not related to any other word that ends in -tent, and that fact just really bugs me.
 
Potent showed up in the early fifteenth century, a little after the word potential and before potency. All three words are from the same origin, the classical Latin potens which means powerful and is from… posse. Which means to be able, and is actually traced to the Proto Indo European poti-, powerful or lord.
 
And yeah, that’s where posse is from, though it didn’t show up until the seventeenth century, and that’s actually short for the Latin phrase posse comitatus, to be accompanied. Comitatus means company or a body of men, meaning the phrase roughly means a force of men. The modern slang of it is taken from Westerns.
 
Add another S to the end of that word and you have possess, which is also related, but I looked at that word not too many years ago. In any case, it’s just the first half of the word that’s related, and through a slightly different way than from posse. It’s from the verb possidere, to possess, where the front half is related to potis, to be able (the word is related to posse) and the back half from sedere, to sit. I guess that means to possess is to be able to sit.
 
The next posse word? Possible, which showed up in the mid fourteenth century from the Old French possible and classical Latin possibilis, to be possible. Something possible is something able to be done. There’s also despot, which does sound like pot- with a des- on the front. It showed up in the mid sixteenth century from the Italian dispotto, from the Medieval Latin despota, and before that, the Greek despotes, all which pretty much had the same meaning. The word is actually from the PIE dems-pota, with dem- meaning house and the rest from poti. I guess the head of a house is supposed to be powerful.
 
Speaking of power, it showed up in the fourteenth century from the Anglo French pouair and Old French povoir, which is from the verb podir, which is from the Vulgar Latin potere, and doesn’t that look familiar. Potere is from potis, which means power is from the same place, it just lost the T.
 
The final word we’re looking at, related to all of these, is… Host. Really. It showed up in the late thirteenth century from the Old French oste/hoste, from the classical Latin hospitem, guest. Yeah, host came from guest. The word is thought to be from the PIE ghos-pot-, the first part from ghos-ti, stranger or guest, and the pot- part from poti-. A host is a lord of guests.
 
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
Encyclopaedia Britannica
Fordham University

Language Of Confusion: Ne-, Part V

And now the final part of our look into the Proto Indo European root ne-, which means not. We’ve gotten through all the words, but there are actually quite a few prefixes that come from it.
 
First is the one we’ve already seen a bunch of times: non-. It means not or lack of, from the Anglo French noun-, Old French non-, and classical Latin non, which, as we’ve talked about, just means no. This is definitely the most straightforward of these.
 
Next, in. Well, one version of in, because there are two, one meaning into, in, on, or upon, and the other meaning not, opposite of, or without. And guess what! They aren’t related at all. You just kind of have to guess which in- the prefix is from. The in- we’re looking at was also used in Latin and is of course traced to ne-. Ne- means not, so words with in- mean not. At least, when they’re not the other in-.
 
Directly related to in is an- (note, not the article an, which is completely not related). An- is actually from the Greek an-, not or without, which, like in-, is from ne. Plus there’s also a-, which actually has three different prefix versions. One is related to the article, one means away and is from ab-, and finally there’s the one that’s also from the Greek an- and also means not or without, just without the n.
 
So in- is Latin, and a- and an- are Greek. There’s also un-, which comes to us from the other branch of the family, the Old English un-, which is from the Proto Germanic un-, and obviously that’s from ne-. And much like the other prefixes, there’s another version of it, however this one means pretty close to the same damn thing. Instead of not-, it means reversal or removal, i.e. undo instead of do, and it’s from the Proto Indo European ant-. I’m not even sure how you’re supposed to tell them apart, but that probably doesn’t matter unless you’re studying linguistics.
 
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
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Fordham University