Grace Tierney's Blog, page 5

Saint Francis and the History of the Christmas Crib

Hello,

Today is the 9th of December and I’m slowly decorating our home for Christmas. Today’s job was putting up the crib, so I thought I’d share the word history of crib because I investigated it for “Words Christmas Gave Us”, my book about festive words and customs worldwide.

Our crib, at the start of advent, Mary and Joseph only

Crib & Creche

{extract from “Words Christmas Gave Us” by Grace Tierney, copyright 2024}

We have Saint Francis of Assisi to thank for Christmas nativity scenes. In 1222 he visited Bethlehem to see where it’s believed Jesus was born. Bethlehem was under the control of the Ottoman Empire and unsafe for visiting Christian pilgrims so the following Christmas he recreated the nativity scene with a view to creating a new pilgrimage for the faithful.

Saint Francis selected a cave near Greccio, laid a baby on hay, alongside oxen, and a donkey. People in the town arrived with torches and candles and St Francis gave the sermon. Each year, the town has a reenactment of this event. Following this tradition, Italian wood carvers produced nativity scenes for homes and churches. These are called presepe in Italian and the city of Naples is famous for them.

In France, a nativity crib is often part of decorating a home for Christmas and their cribs are usually filled with pottery figures. Marseilles is particularly noted for them. As well as having the normal characters, French cribs also have figures such as a butcher, a baker, a policeman, and a priest.

Traditionally in Ireland church goers will take a small piece of straw from their church’s crib. They add this to their own or keep it in their wallet for good luck during the coming year. Sometimes it is burned on Shrove Tuesday (the last day before the beginning of Lent and the Easter season).

Traditionally a crib scene at home is filled gradually during Advent and the twelve days of Christmas. Mary and Joseph arrive first, the youngest family member adds the baby on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning, with the shepherds following. The three Magi only arrive on the 5th of January. The trickiest part of this method is finding Baby Jesus amongst the accumulation of Christmas decorations and greeting cards.

Crib entered the dictionary with the Old English word cribbe (manger in a cattle stable) from a West Germanic word which is also the source of words for mangers in Old Saxon, Middle Dutch, Old High German, and German.

By the 1600s, the word crib referred to an enclosed child’s bed with raised sides, probably coming from the idea of the crib being where Jesus was laid. In the 1800s a crib was thieves’ slang for a home, pub, or shop but its use in more recent slang (home) may be unrelated.

In the U.S.A. a nativity scene is called by a completely different name, creche. This comes back to German and French too. The Old High German version of crib passed into Old French as cresche where it eventually became creche. If you mention a creche in Ireland or Britain everybody will think you’re talking about a child-care business which caters for pre-school children. When I mentioned this to a Swedish friend she had never heard of a creche and thought it might be related to crêpe (a thin pancake). Another one of those words which prove Britain and America are two countries divided by the same language.

{end of extract}

Now if you’re putting up a crib/creche/nativity scene in your home this Christmas you know its history.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Sign up to avoid missing out! Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

p.p.s. Don’t forget that Wordfoolery has several books available about the history of words – the perfect Christmas gift for the word geek in your life.

p.p.p.s. this post contains affiliate links which make a small payment to the blog if you choose to purchase through them. #CommissionsEarned. Alternatively, you can use my digital tip jar.

Armour and Wine – the History of Agraffe

Hello,

This week’s word is agraffe – a term you may not know but once I describe it I suspect you know the item. It has a few definitions – 1) a small cramp iron (don’t ask, I have no idea what this is!), 2) a richly ornamented clasp for clothing or armour, 3) part of a piano designed to stop vibration between the pin and the bridge, 4) relief sculpture on the face of a keystone in classic architecture, and 5) the wire cage used to hold the cork in a bottle of sparkling wine.

It’s the last one I’m talking about this time although all those definitions sound intriguing, don’t they?

an agraffe

I’ve always been fascinated with these tiny metal objects since watching “The Fisherking” movie directed by Terry Gilliam where a character takes one and fashions it into a tiny chair in a moment of pure wonder. I’ve gathered of few of them in my craft supplies but have yet to learn how to do this myself. However, if you’re interested, there’s a pinterest board about using them, and the corks, to create tiny items.

Anyhow, back to etymology.

The word agraffe was borrowed into English c. 1660 from French agrafe, but it had the double ff in Middle French. The noun was derived from the verb agrafer (to seize with a grappling hook or to attach with a clasp) so the military link was in there from the start, not to mention the French wine link.

The word was formed by joining a (used for transitive verbs) and grafer/graffer (to clamp on). This in turn was formed from the word grafe/graffe (hook) which was borrowed from Old High German khrapfo (hook) which also underlies the word grape. In fact the idea of hooking and grapes may be connected because of the small hook tool used to cut bunches of grapes from the vines. I was fascinated to discover this because when I went grape picking in Beaujolais (more years ago than I care to admit) we did indeed use small, sharp, hooks (like a sickle but smaller and wickedly sharp) to cut the bunches from the vines. How wonderful that these graffes end up giving us the word for another wine accessory, the agraffe.

I also love the connection of wine to grappling hooks because it creates a mental image of pirates (or perhaps knights in clasped armour) swinging into attack using grappling hooks – imagine the confusion if you mixed up a grappling hook with the clasp on your armour because you drank a little too much wine before the battle, ouch.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery) – who reached her target of 32,000 words written this November!

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Sign up to avoid missing out! Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

p.p.s. Don’t forget that Wordfoolery has several books available about the history of words – the perfect Christmas gift for the word geek in your life.

p.p.p.s. this post contains affiliate links which make a small payment to the blog if you choose to purchase through them. #CommissionsEarned. Alternatively, you can use my digital tip jar.

The Airy Word History of Inspiration

Hello,

I was recording a podcast episode yesterday (with the lovely Dan and Shauna from Bunny Trails) which will release in Dec 2024, and one of the questions they asked me was where I got my inspiration to write “Words Christmas Gave Us”. It got me thinking about its word history. I guessed it was related to breathing but is being inspired as easy as simple as breathing in?

Some of my Christmas research and sources of inspiration

Inspiration entered the English language as a word relating to religion around 1300. It was defined as the “immediate influence of God” and the idea was closely linked to writing (rather than other art-forms) as it described how those who wrote holy books were influenced by a higher power to do so.

Inspiration’s path to English was via inspiracion in Old French (inhaling) and Latin inspirare (blow into or breathe upon, and figuratively to excite or inspire somebody). Inspirare is formed by joining in and spirare (breathe).

This early use of inspire was also linked to the idea of putting life or spirit into the human body. It wasn’t until the 1500s that inspiration also came to mean the act of inhaling air into your lungs as part of daily breathing and it was the 1800s before our more modern secular idea of inspiration arose.

So perhaps this means that if you need inspiration for a creative project, what you really need is a nice deep inward breath to get you started. Simple, eh?

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery) – currently on 15,965 words of my 32,000 writing target for November 2024

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Sign up to avoid missing out! Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

p.p.s. Don’t forget that Wordfoolery has several books available about the history of words – the perfect Christmas gift for the word geek in your life.

p.p.p.s. this post contains affiliate links which make a small payment to the blog if you choose to purchase through them. #CommissionsEarned. Alternatively, you can use my digital tip jar.

The Confusing History of Haberdashery

Hello,

Haberdashery is one of my favourite words so I was surprised to find I hadn’t explored its history here. I was even more surprised when I discovered it’s one of the words which illustrates how Britain and America are “two countries separated by the same language” (don’t ask who said it, might be Irishman George Bernard Shaw in 1942, but opinions differ).

Merriam-Webster (and other sources) inform me that a haberdashery sells men’s clothing and accessories. Its secondary definition mentions selling notions which is further defined as thread and small useful items. So that’s the American English version of haberdashery.

As an Irishwoman I enjoy that definition of notions. Here it’s slang for somebody having ideas above their station and it is quite the killer put-down. For example, “Did you see Mrs Murphy down the street with her fancy designer handbag? Pure notions.”

The Cambridge Dictionary (and Oxford etc) explain that haberdashery sells the pins, thread, fabric etc. for sewing. This is the British English version and is also used in Ireland where I live. In fact, once upon a time when Wordfoolery was 18, she worked in a haberdashery department on the main shopping street in Dublin and was expert at advising crafters on which little item they needed to complete their projects.

Buttons – my favourite haberdashery item

More recently I inherited my mother’s extensive selection of haberdashery, all carefully stored in old biscuit (cookies for American readers) tins from Christmas Past – because to buy fancy biscuits in tins at any other time of the year would be to have notions.

Let’s not argue over the correct definition – what about the history of haberdashery?

Haberdashery joined English in the 1400s to describe goods sold by a haberdasher. The idea of a haberdashery shop didn’t arise until the early 1800s.

Haberdasher, however, is a much older word. It appears in Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales”, for example, which he wrote in the 1380s and 1390s. It was originally used as a surname in the 1200s. Many old surnames describe the jobs people did such as Miller, Smith, and Baker.

Shortly thereafter (early 1300s) haberdasher was recorded as a seller of “small articles of trade” such as caps, purses, beads, thread, and stationery. I love this definition as it’s my modern version of haberdashery plus two other things I love – hats and stationery. This would be an amazing shop to visit.

Haberdasher came from the Anglo-French (brought over by the Normans) word hapertas (small wares and also a type of fabric). Its origins before that point are sadly unknown.

The transition to the American English meaning (dealing in men’s wares) happened in the late 1800s via the idea of a cap-seller.

Technically to haberdash is a verb, since the 1600s, but it’s very rare. I guess I used to haberdash back when I worked in that shop.

Grace (@Wordfoolery) – currently on 18,025 words of my 32,000 writing target for November 2024

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Sign up to avoid missing out! Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

p.p.s. Don’t forget that Wordfoolery has several books available about the history of words – the perfect Christmas gift for the word geek in your life.

p.p.p.s. this post contains affiliate links which make a small payment to the blog if you choose to purchase through them. #CommissionsEarned. Alternatively, you can use my digital tip jar.

Steadfast or Stubborn – a Word History

Hello,

I’m a third of the way through my November writing challenge (32,000 words of “The Librarian’s Secret Diary” my serial about life in a small-town Irish library) and I’m using my own stubborn nature to continue despite other distractions.

I’ve heard all the synonyms for stubborn over the years. Some polite (determined, perseverance, resolute, firm, staunch), some less so (bloody-minded, obstinate), and honestly a bit of stubbornness can be a real boon to any writer on their path to readers.

Snoopy was steadfast in his writing

One which I like is steadfast. It conjures up images of a brave soul on the deck of a ship in a storm, navigating their way to calmer waters in the face of all obstacles. That’s inspiring to me when I’m writing late at night or early in the morning to get my daily word count complete as well as all my regular writing jobs (column, blog, newsletter, editing, promoting my books, running a writing group, radio appearances, articles, research etc.).

Steadfast joined Middle English as stedfast to describe people as stubborn, resolute, fixed in purpose and faith around 1200, but it came from an even earlier word – stedefaest – in Old English with the same meaning so it’s an old word in the language. It was formed by joining stede (place or position) – you would see that also in the idea of a homestead – with fast (or faest).

Although we think of fast meaning quick, in this instance the Old English faest meant something was firmly fixed, constant, secure, strong, or fortified. It probably has a Proto-Germanic origin, from the word fastu (firm) and ultimately from Proto-Indo-European root past (firm, solid).

Other languages also have the idea of being steadfast from very similar origins. In Middle Low German it’s stedevast and in Old Norse it’s stadfastr (firm, faithful, firm in one’s mind).

I think in future I won’t call myself stubborn. I’ll be steadfast in the face of obstacles, even if it’s a word-count target rather than saving my sailing ship from a wild storm at sea.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery) – currently on 10,292 words of my 32,000 target

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Sign up to avoid missing out! Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder. There’s a new issue this Friday.

p.p.s. Don’t forget that Wordfoolery has several books available about the history of words – the perfect Christmas gift for the word geek in your life.

p.p.p.s. this post contains affiliate links which make a small payment to the blog if you choose to purchase through them. #CommissionsEarned. Alternatively, you can use my digital tip jar.

The Murky Word History of Quaffing

Hello,

Words ebb and flow in popularity with time and location. We all have our favourites and quaff is one of mine so I was rather disappointed to see a graph recently indicating that quaff is being used less often by English speakers and writers.

I imagine the action of quaffing is still commonplace but perhaps now it’s chugging or some other verb being used. That’s a shame in my opinion but perhaps I just have a fondness for it thanks to explaining, many times, with the enthusiasm (and possible inaccuracy) of youth that quaffing is drinking where most of what’s in your tankard ends up on you rather than in you.

A more official definition is “to drink or swallow in large draughts” and it joined the English dictionary in the 1500s although I am quite sure drinkers have been quaffing for centuries before that entry.

Quaffing cocktails is less messy than tankards of ale

Quaffing’s origins are obscure. It may come from quassen, a Low German verb meaning to overindulge in food and drink with the ss mis-read as ff which wouldn’t be surprising considering how those letters were written in the past. Despite not knowing its past I would love to predict a strong future for this word so if you’re drinking something this week, alcoholic or not, please consider quaffing it.

In other news I’ve begun my annual November writing challenge. For the last 17 years I’ve done that via the NaNoWriMo website (and for 15 of those years I was a volunteer writing mentor and organiser of real world writing events). Sadly after a child protection issue in the USA, an ill-advised statement about AI (google, you’ll find the details) and widespread changes of paid personnel, all the volunteers were wiped from the site and despite indicating my willingness to re-train, and be vetted etc. nine months ago I haven’t been added back to the organisation (as at 4 November 2024).

It’s a shame when volunteer work ends on a sour note, but I’m happy that my local writers and I have founded our own group (Academy Writers) and are busy creating this month. It’s day four and I’m on track for 32,000 words of fiction. Wish me luck! Perhaps if I make my target I can celebrate with some quaffing on the 30th of the month.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Sign up to avoid missing out! Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

p.p.s. Don’t forget that Wordfoolery has several books available about the history of words – the perfect Christmas gift for the word geek in your life.

A Spirited History of the word Zombie

Hello,

In honour of Halloween later this week I’ll explore a spooky word today – zombie. I don’t have any zombie photos to hand so I’m illustrating with a traditional Irish jack o’lantern, a carved turnip, from the National Museum, which is equally scary.

“Traditional Irish halloween Jack-o’-lantern” by Rannpháirtí anaithnid at en.wikipedia. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Traditional_Irish_halloween_Jack-o%27-lantern.jpg#/media/File:Traditional_Irish_halloween_Jack-o%27-lantern.jpg

Zombie (also spelled without the final e) joined the English dictionary in the late 1700s originally to describe spirits of the dead who torment the living. The meaning varied significantly with time.

In 1819 it was used as a title for chief in an Afro-Brazilian context, possibly as a direct borrowing of the word nzambi (deity) from Angolan. It was also used as a name for pets in the 1800s (without the e) – which is pretty strange to my mind.

In 1904 the Grand Zombi was a term for a deity in Voodoo practices in English (but presumably earlier in other countries).

In 1910 a zombie was a witch.

By 1929 William Seabrook used the term zombie in his travel book “The Magic Island” with the meaning we’d recognise today, a re-animated corpse, after encountering this idea in Haiti. Seabrook was an American occultist, explorer, and writer. His book inspired Hollywood and we’re still finding horrific zombies in movies today.

By 1936 zombie was also used to describe any slow-witted person.

Generally zombie is accepted as having a West African etymology but it’s beyond my skills to pick the exact source. Candidates include zumbi (fetish, amulet) in Kikongo, djumbi (ghost) in Kikongo, and nzambi (deity) from Angolan.

Until next time Happy Halloween, happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Sign up to avoid missing out! Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

Having a Conniption, a Word History

Hello,

This week’s word is a suggestion from friend of the blog, Irene, whose grandmother used it regularly – “Such and such was having a conniption over something” she would say. It’s a wonderful word and one I’ve heard used to such an extent that I thought I’d have to reach for the Hiberno-English dictionary for this one. It’s in there, by the way, as a colloquial term for hysterics, but it’s a more general English word, not limited to Ireland although we love to use it.

A conniption is defined as an attack of hysteria and joined American English as part of conniption fit in the early 1800s from an uncertain origin. Theories on its history include that it was an altered version of corruption which was used as a term for anger in the late 1700s, or that it came from canapshus (ill-tempered) an English dialect word which was a corruption of the word captious. Captious was a new one to me. It means somebody who is apt to notice and make much of minor faults and flaws.

That link to captious does make some sense as the definition is very close to those I could term as having conniptions, but honestly the jury is out on this one.

There’s a definition in 1848 of conniption fit which is not exactly feminist “This term is exclusively used by the fair sex…As near as I can judge, conniption fits are tantrums.”

Add to that the fact that the word hysteria was defined in 1801 as a nervous disease (from Greek word hystera for womb) afflicting only women and thought to be caused by a dysfunction of the uterus. Sadly the dictionary has plenty of words created to paint women as unhinged, particularly when they challenged the patriarchy.

Fit, for completeness sake, is with us for a longer time. It has multiple definitions but the one around “a sudden attack” dates to the 1500s and probably goes back to fitt (conflict or struggle) in Old English.

To conclude, we don’t know where conniption fits come from but we all recognise them, whether they are male or female.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Sign up to avoid missing out! Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

The Constantly Changing History of Advent

Hello,

It’s eleven days today until the bookshop launch of “Words Christmas Gave Us” and I’m looking forward to it, much like a child opening doors on an Advent calendar. Advent was one of those Christmas words I started researching for the book totally confident that I knew its history.

Nope. But did you know they can have 24 candles on some Advent wreaths or that Advent didn’t start with any connection to Christmas at all? No, neither did I. Here’s an extract from the book to whet your appetite. I hope you enjoy it.

Advent & Advent Wreath

{extract from “Words Christmas Gave Us” by Grace Tierney copyright 2024}

Advent joined Old English directly from adventus (arrival) in Latin which formed by joining ad (to) and venire (to come). By 1742 advent was being used in English to describe any important arrival.

Originally Advent didn’t relate to Christmas. It arose in Spain and Gaul in the late 300s as a period of fasting and prayer to prepare new Christians for baptism on the feast of the Epiphany in January and lasted for 40 days, inspired by Jesus spending 40 days in the desert preparing for his ministry.

Since then the duration of Advent has varied but has now settled on four weeks leading up to Christmas Day. This means all the Advent calendars you see in the shops are incorrect as they cover 24 rather than 28 days.

Advent calendars are particularly popular in Switzerland where in some villages each house takes a turn to be the Advent window for the day with decorations and an evening gathering for the villagers in their home that evening.

One of the first Advent calendars was made in Bavaria in 1908. It was a small card with a pack of pictures to be glued on each day. After World War II’s cardboard rationing, Richard Sellmer of Stuttgart took up the baton and with a U.S. patent in 1953 he became known as the General Secretary of Father Christmas and President Dwight Eisenhower was photographed opening one with his grandchildren. From 1958 the calendars began to contain chocolates and since then they’ve adapted for a wide variety of gifts from Lego sets to jelly beans, protein balls to alcohol. There are even luxury versions filled with diamonds.

The religious version of an Advent countdown is actually the Advent wreath. The form of the wreath apparently has its roots in the rituals of sun-worshipping tribes of northern Europe. Using evergreen foliage (symbolic of rebirth after winter) they created a wreath, added lights, and offered it to their deity.

Forms of this wreath survived until the 1500s in Germany where it was adopted by Christians and spread to Europe, Britain, Ireland, and North America. The Lutheran tradition has 24 candles but the most common version has five candles – one on each Sunday leading up to Christmas and the final one lit on Christmas Day.

The first candle symbolises hope and is purple, the second symbolises faith and is also purple, the third is for joy and is rose-coloured, the fourth is for peace and is purple, while the final one represents light and is white. Advent wreaths are lit in church but many also create one for their home.

{end of extract}

If you like Christmas words and stories, then you might enjoy “Words Christmas Gave Us”. It’s out now in paperback, hardback, and ebook and you’ll find all the ways to buy it here.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Sign up to avoid missing out! Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder. There will be a new issue later this week.

p.p.s. this post contains affiliate links which make a small payment to the blog if you choose to purchase through them. #CommissionsEarned. Alternatively, you can use my digital tip jar.

The Disguised Word History of Travesty

Hello,

A friend used the word travesty last week in a joking text message and it reminded me that I’d never explored its history. When I looked, I was somewhat surprised by its roots.

Before I begin, what does travesty mean? The Cambridge Dictionary says it’s “something that fails to represent the values and qualities that it is intended to represent in a way that is shocking or offensive.” It can be used as either a noun (most commonly) or a verb and the example which appears again and again, to the point where I need to sound my Cliche Alert klaxon, is “travesty of justice”.

When I use travesty I don’t think about it being a misrepresentation. I think about something being inherently wrong. For example a chocolate cake made using “chocolate flavoured covering” rather than dairy milk chocolate is a travesty, or a cake made with poor quality margarine rather than real Irish butter is a travesty and trust me, I can taste the difference.

Travesty’s etymology showed me that I’ve been wrong in that usage because a travesty is all about being in disguise, pretending to be something you’re not.

The word travesty entered English in the late 1600s and it was a literary term to describe a “burlesque treatment” of a serious work. Now this wasn’t burlesque with corsets and fringing, it was about how you dressed. The term had come from French travesti (dressed in disguise, like me as Sherlock above). Travesti came to French from the Italian verb travestire (to disguise) thanks to Latin trans (across, beyond, over) and vestire (clothes).

The idea was that a travesty of a piece of literature took it and put it into different clothes. This is different to parody. In parody the subject matter and characters are changed while the language and style are imitated for comic effect. In travesty the characters and subject matter remain the same but the language itself becomes absurd grotesque, over the top.

This original precise literary meaning of travesty still exists, although rarely outside academic circles I suspect, but within a couple of decades it had been joined by the second meaning of “disguising by a change of clothes”.

This brings me back to the travesty of justice. Justice, in that case, isn’t in different clothes, or different words. The travesty there is that people expect a specific type of justice, perhaps being fair, transparent, and swift, but instead get delays, confusion, and a result that feels unfair to the victims or skewed thanks to undue influence. Now that’s a travesty and much worse than my cake examples from earlier.

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Sign up to avoid missing out! Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.