Language of Confusion: -Ment, Part IV

Probably another two weeks left after this one, so strap in. Today’s are all…things. They’re physical things. They’re tangible. They exist. That’s the only connection they have other than their suffix.

Filament

Filament showed up in the late sixteenth century, although of course back then it wasn’t used to refer to what’s in a lightbulb but “fine, untwisted thread”. Which I guess a lightbulb filament looks like. It comes from the Latin filamentum, filament, and before that the Late Latin verb filare, to spin or draw out in a long line (like you would a thread), and is from filum, wire or thread. That word can be traced back to the Proto Indo European root gwhi-, which meant thread or tendon and is the origin word for words like file and fillet. But not all definitions of file. Just the that means to file papers.

Ligament

Ligament showed up in the late fourteenth century from the classical Latin ligamentum, which could mean ligament or ligature, bandage, or tie. It’s from the verb ligare, to tie, from the Proto Indo European leig-, tie or bind. That one’s related to a lot of other words, too, which I’m sure I’ll get into someday.

Sediment

Sediment showed up in the mid sixteenth century coming to us from the Middle French sediment and classical Latin sedimentum, which, yeah, just means sediment. That’s from the Proto Indo European root sed-, to sit. Oh man, so many words are related to this one…

Tenement

Tenement showed up in the fourteenth century from the Anglo French/Old French tenement, land, fief, or property. That’s from the Medieval Latin tenementum, with roughly the same meaning, from the classical Latin verb tenere, to hold. Once again we can trace this back to Proto Indo European, this time to the word ten-, to stretch. That one’s related to seemingly every word with -ten in it.

Document

One of every writer’s favorite words, document showed up in the early fifteenth century meaning teaching or instruction, and not meaning something written down until the early eighteenth century. It comes from the Old French document, lesson or written evidence, and classical Latin documentum, lesson or example. The verb form is docere, to teach, derived from the Proto Indo European dek-, which is… take or accept? What?

Parchment

Parchment showed up in the fourteenth century as parchemin—no T??? Is this just one big coincidence? See, it’s from the Old French parchemin (no T there either), which was taken from the Late Latin pergamena, which just means parchment but has a freaking G in it now. Latin took the word from the Greek pergamenon, which means “of Pergamon”, referring to a city that’s now called Bergama in Turkey where parchments were supposedly first used in place of papyrus. And because English speakers confused it with the suffix -ment, now it has a T.

Damn it, English. You can’t just translate things properly, can you?

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

University of Ottawa, Canada

Fordham University

Orbis Latinus

Lonely Planet

The Concert

This is another absolutely true story, even though it seems like something that was taken from a sitcom. It doesn’t actually involve me, but my mom, but I can assure you that it was recounted to me right after it happened via text.

This all happened when she and her friend went to see Tom Jones in concert. Yes, he’s still alive. I was surprised, too. They drove down to the casino where the concert was located, had dinner, did some gambling. And then…

My mom: We should go make sure we know where the theatre is so we can find it when it’s time for the concert.

Her friend: Sure. Let me get the tickets. Maybe we can find our seats.

My mom: Orchestra, right?

Her friend: Right, but… I thought the concert was in the Grand Theatre but it says it’s in the Hippodrome. Where’s the Hippodrome?

My mom: There’s no Hippodrome here.

Her friend: Here, look for yourself.

My mom: …Why does this ticket say it’s for the ninth and not the fifth?

Her friend: Um…

My mom: And also that it’s in Baltimore?

Yeah, that was kind of a bummer for them. Apparently no one bothered to check the tickets before they actually got there. Or maybe they did and because they’re both sixty year old women and looked without their reading glasses on, they just didn’t notice.

It was about then that my mom texted me, because she just had to share what happened. There were still tickets available, but they were way in the back, not the orchestra seats they had purchased. I think they got their money back for them at least.

Excitement

The weather’s finally warm enough for me to open the windows!

This happens, like, once a day. A bird flies by or an animal walks by and she jumps up to the window only to realize she can’t get through the screen. Thankfully she hasn’t realized how flimsy they are because she absolutely would tear through it.

Language of Confusion: -Ment, Part III

Today’s -ment words are physical objects. That’s almost like a theme that ties them together, because the origins of the words sure as hell won’t.

Cement

Cement showed up in the fourteenth century from the Old French ciment, also cement, and classical Latin caementa, which… yeah, is also just cement. It comes from the verb caedere, to cut down, hew, or hack, evolving from the sense that stones were “hacked” into chips or powder for use in cement. Also, caedere is from the Proto Indo European root kae-id-, origin of words such as decide, precise, and homicide. Okay, I’m going to have to look into that at some point.

Pigment

Pigment showed up in the late fourteenth century from the classical Latin pigmentum, which it’s pretty safe to assume just means pigment. It’s from the verb pingere, to paint, the origin word for paint. Amusingly enough, pingere is from the Proto Indo European peig-, to cut or mark with incision, which evolved to the sense of decorating with cut marks, then just decorate, then decorate with color. Therefore, paint, and pigment.

Ornament

Ornament came about in the early thirteenth century meaning an accessory and not necessarily something decorative. It’s from the Old French ornement and classical Latin ornamentum, which could mean ornament or decoration, but also things like apparatus or kit. It’s from the verb ornare, to adorn, and ordo, which means… order. And yeah, that’s where order comes from.

Garment

Garment showed up in the fifteenth century, although it existed in the fourteenth century as garnement. That was taken from the Old French garnement (so that would explain the spelling), which is from the verb garnir, to fit out or adorn. It’s actually from a Germanic source, not Latin, can you believe it? But it can still be traced back to Proto Indo European, in this case the root word wer-, to cover. Origin of words such as garnish, warn, and cover because things are never weird enough.

Ointment

Ointment appeared in the late thirteenth century from the Old French oignement, which was taken from the Vulgar Latin unguimentum and classical Latin unguentum, perfume or ointment. The verb of that is unguere, to smear with ointment, from the Proto Indo European ongw-, salve or anoint. And yeah, that’s where we get anoint from, as well as unction.

Words are so weird sometimes.

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

Encyclopaedia Britannica

Spamfiles Classics

Yeah, time for this again. I mean, it’s easier than coming up with original ideas.

I…what?

So can strangers on the internet.

Why is the w in writing replaced with an omega? And why is it only in one of the writings and not the other? I know it’s stupid but this kind of thing really bugs me.

If one of my cousins did that, there’d be no point in talking about them in the present tense anymore.

Honestly, it’s more surprising that any of my uncles had only one felony.

Has your lover really found booger today?

Mis-Texted

I never get to talk about what I want to talk about.

 My mom has this irrational hatred of all things animated. It’s why there are very few shows that both of us like.

Language Of Confusion: -Ment, Part II

Back to the -ment words. These ones all have a c in them. A hard c, not that pain in the ass soft c.

Comment

Comment showed up in the late fourteenth century from the Old French coment and Late Latin  commentum, both of which meant comment. It’s from the classical Latin comminisci, to contrive, which means it was more like plan or devise than comment. It’s thought that the com- prefix is only intensive here, and the menisci is from meminisse, to remember, from the Proto Indo European men-, to think. Which. Yeah. Not related to the -ment we learned about last week.

Compliment/Complement

Compliment showed up in the late sixteenth century as complement, and yes, that’s where complement comes from, too. Both are from the classical Latin complementum, completion—which makes sense for the latter, but the former? Apparently something that was complimentary (as in, free), was completing the obligation of politeness, and then in Italian that changed to “expression of respect or civility”, and that influenced nineteenth century English to make it saying something nice. Anyway, complementum comes from complere, to complete. The com- prefix is intensive again and the plere means to fill, from the Proto Indo European pele-, to fill. To complement (or compliment) is to really fill something. And the -ment is just a Latin suffix.

Compartment

Compartment showed up in the mid sixteenth century from the Middle French compartiment, a partition. That word’s from the Italian compartimento, compartment, which was then taken from the Late Latin compartiri, to divide. Once again, the com- is intensive, and the partiri is from partis, which is from the Proto Indo European pere-, grant or allot. I’m not even sure where the -ment showed up from here.

Inclement

Finally today, we’re looking at inclement. It showed up in the mid seventeenth century from the French inclément and classical Latin inclementem, which means merciless and now I’m disappointed that we don’t use this word more. The in- means opposite of and clementum has to do with things being nice or mild. It’s a mix of the Proto Indo European word klei-, to lean, and -menos, which I can’t really find much about but definitely isn’t related to the other -ment words.

TL;DR: If it isn’t a common word you know + -ment, it’s not related to anything else apparently.

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 Ottawa, Canada

Orbis Latinus