The Grammarphobia Blog: Grammar, Usage, Etymology, and More

And whilst we’re at it ...

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: In Origins of the Specious, you say “while” and “whilst” mean the same thing, but the Brits and Aussies on a Facebook grammar group feel otherwise. For instance, an Aussie with a British education says “whilst” should be used to mean “although” and “while” for things happening simultaneously. Your thoughts?

A: I can't find any evidence to back up the suggestion that "while" and "whilst" have different functions in British English.

From my reading of British sources, it appears that both "while" and "whilst" have two functions:

1. to show duration (meaning "during the time that" or "at the same time as");

2. to show contrast (meaning "although" or "whereas").

The Cambridge Grammar of the English Language, published in the UK, has this to say: "The primary meaning of while and whilst is durational, but they have a secondary sense equivalent to whereas."

The example given for this second meaning is "While/Whilst the first act was excellent, the second seemed rather dull." The authors note that "the meaning expressed here is contrast, not co-duration." (Page 737.)

Elsewhere the book has examples of while used for both functions, duration as well as contrast: "They insisted on talking while I was trying to get on with my work" ... and ... "While I don't agree with what she says, I accept her right to say it." (Page 1078.)

The Oxford English Grammar has no discussion of "whilst," but the original 1926 edition of Henry Fowler's A Dictionary of Modern English Usage makes no differentiation between the words.

Fowler’s section on the subject is headed "while (or whilst)," and the examples for duration as well as contrast use "while": "While she spoke, the tears were running down" ... and ... "While this is true of some, it is not true of all."

The latest edition, The New Fowler's Modern English Usage (1996), edited by R. W. Burchfield, makes no such differentiation either, except to note that "whilst" is not used in American English.

The updated examples show "while" used both ways: "He enjoyed drawing while he was being read to" and "While domestic happiness is an admirable ideal, it is not easy to come by."

The only “whilst” examples in the New Fowler’s show the word used in the temporal sense: "... whilst on fishing expeditions on the other side of the Irish Sea."

Finally, the Oxford English Dictionary has historical evidence for both words used both ways, with no notations indicating that one usage is better than the other for some purposes.

It may be true that some British and Australian speakers feel that there's a difference between "while" and "whilst" – that "while" is better in the temporal sense and "whilst" in the sense of "although."

But I haven't been able to verify such a preference among British grammarians, lexicographers, or usage experts.

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As of this writing ...

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: Fredricka Whitfield and Heidi Collins of CNN, among others, use the expression "as of yet." To me, it reeks of confusion between "as yet" and "as of now." Comment?

A: The phrase “as of yet” may indeed be a relatively recent conflation of “as yet” and “as of now,” but this “as” business has its roots in Middle English, the language spoken from about 1100 to 1500.

Since the 13th century, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word "as" has been used just before a time element in phrases like "as then," "as now," "as to-day," "as tomorrow," and so on.

But of these phrases, the OED says, "literary English retains only as yet," meaning "up to this time, hitherto."

The expression "as of" plus a time element is more recent – about 600 years more recent.

The first citation in the OED is from a letter Mark Twain wrote in 1900, in which he used the phrase "as of yesterday."

Other citations include phrases like "as of 1955," "as of the end of 1973," "as of last term," and, most frequently, "as of now."

The OED has no mention of "as of yet."

But Garner's Modern American Usage (3d ed.) calls it a "vulgarism," and doesn't like "as yet" either, calling them "both invariably inferior to yet alone, still, thus far, or some other equivalent."

I wouldn't go that far. I see nothing wrong with "as yet," and if "as of yet" is a crime against English, it's certainly a small one. Still, why use "as of yet" if "as yet" will do? It's simple enough to drop the "of."

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Can two adjectives play in a combo?

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: Is it OK for an adjective to modify another adjective? And if so¸ what is such a combination called?

A: An adjective modified by another word (whether hyphenated or not) is often called a compound adjective.

Usually a compound adjective consists of an adjective plus an adverb (as in "seemingly impossible task" or “apparently perfect crime”).

But it can also consist of an adjective plus another adjective. Examples: "near-fascist organization" ... "bright red dress" ... "icy-cold hands" ... "golden-brown skin" ... "bitter-sweet flavor" ... "red-hot pincers."

Many compound adjectives involving numbers, like "two-hour delay" or "eight-pound baby," are examples of adjectives modifying adjectives. (The nouns "hour" and "pound" here are functioning as adjectives.)

In his Essentials of English Grammar, Otto Jespersen refers to adjectives that modify other adjectives as tertiary adjectives (pages 88-89).

If this hasn't satisfied your interest in compounds, see The Cambridge Grammar of the English Language, pages 470, 1657-58.

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Factoid checking

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: What is your view of the word “factoid”? My dictionary defines it as "someone or something contrived to appear plausible or factual." However, I hear it used more and more to mean a small fact. In fact, I recently heard it being used that way on NPR. Interesting?

A: When "factoid" first showed up in English in the 1970s, it referred to a dubious assumption presented as fact by the news media.

The first published reference to the word in the Oxford English Dictionary is from Norman Mailer's 1973 biography of Marilyn Monroe.

In the book, Mailer describes factoids as "facts which have no existence before appearing in a magazine or newspaper, creations which are not so much lies as a product to manipulate emotion in the Silent Majority."

The OED defines this early usage a bit more broadly as "something that becomes accepted as a fact, although it is not (or may not be) true; spec. an assumption or speculation reported and repeated so often that it is popularly considered true; a simulated or imagined fact."

Oxford doesn't cite the more recent sense of the word you mention (a small fact), but the two American dictionaries I use the most do include the newer usage.

Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary (11th ed.) lists as standard English both the original meaning ("an invented fact believed to be true because of its appearance in print") and the newer one ("a briefly stated and usu. trivial fact").

Although The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (4th ed.) includes both meanings, it labels the newer one a usage problem. A-H says only 43 percent of its Usage Panel accepts the more recent sense of the word.

I suspect, however, that it’s only a matter of time before the Usage Panel comes around. I wouldn’t be surprised if the next edition of American Heritage joins Merriam-Webster's in accepting both meanings without qualification.

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Perfect pitch

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: My friend from Brooklyn says things like "I've been eating pizza since I'm 5." I’ve also heard this “since I’m” usage on "Sex and the City" and "Howard Stern." Now I seem to hear it from anyone raised in New York City. What's up with this?

A: Your friend's statement ("I've been eating pizza since I'm 5") isn't standard English. The sequence of tenses is out of whack.

What's called for in the second part of the sentence is a past or perfect tense ("since I was five" or “since I’ve been 5”), not the present ("since I'm five").

This usage is off-kilter, but it's not an unusual mistake. The first clause ("I've been eating pizza") involves a perfect tense, and perfect tenses are often difficult when we combine them with other tenses.

The perfect tenses – those that use some form of "have" as a helping or auxiliary verb – describe actions that begin in the past and continue forward.

The present perfect extends from the past into the present ("I have eaten"), and the past perfect extends from the past into a more recent past ("I had eaten"). There are also progressive forms of each tense: "I have (or had) been eating."

When we combine a clause like this with one starting with "since" (or "ever since") plus a time element, that time element has to include time that has passed.

That's why, according to the grammatical conventions of modern English, the "since" clause should be in a past or perfect tense, NOT in the simple present tense.

Why do so many people use the present tense with such "since" clauses? Some language scholars have suggested that a German influence may sometimes be at work here.

In a 1935 article in the journal American Speech, George G. Struble reported a similar regional usage among the so-called Pennsylvania Dutch, who often use "since I'm" in place of "since I've been."

The Pennsylvania Dutch, by the way, aren't actually of Dutch origin; they're descendants of Germans who immigrated in Colonial times.

Such speakers, Struble found, commonly use sentences like "This is the first time it's happened since I'm here."

Another scholar, R. Whitney Tucker, wrote in 1934 in the journal Language that the "Pennsylvania Dutch are quite unable to grasp the tense-system of the English verb.”

“Action begun in the past but continuing in the present requires in German the present tense, in English the perfect or perfect 'progressive,' " he added. “The Dutch often follow the German usage: the first time since I'm here, instead of since I've been here."

Whether German-influenced or not, the use of "since I'm" instead of "since I've been" (or “since I was”) isn't unusual in the eastern US. However, I don't recall hearing it in the Midwest, where I grew up.

I hope this sheds some light on an imperfect usage.

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Taking care of business

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: After reading your post on "irregardless" I am left curious about "irrespective." You seem to give it legitimacy, but its usage is rare and sounds awkward. Can you clarify its standing?

A: The word "irrespective" has been legitimate English for hundreds of years. And while I agree with you that it sounds a bit stiff these days, "irrespective" is hardly rare. In fact, I just googled it and got more than 17 million hits.

When it first showed up in the 1600s, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, "irrespective" meant disrespectful, but that sense of the word is now considered obsolete. (The word "respective" meant, among other things, respectful in the 1600s.)

"Irrespective" is now primarily used in the preposition "irrespective of," meaning "regardless of" or "without consideration of." The word has been used in this sense since the late 1600s.

The words "irrespective" and "irregardless" may have the negative prefix "ir-" in common, but the prefix serves a purpose in only one of them.

The prefix in "irregardless" is unnecessary, since this nonstandard word means the exact same as the older, standard adverb "regardless" ("in spite of everything").

And, of course, the nonstandard preposition "irregardless of" means the same as the legitimate preposition "regardless of" ("in spite of").

As I say in my post on "irregardless," lexicographers think it probably developed as an inadvertent mushing together of two very similar words: "irrespective" and "regardless."

All this talk about “irrespective” reminds me of Aretha Franklin’s version of the Otis Redding song “Respect”:

R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Find out what it means to me
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Take care, TCB.

Aretha added “R-E-S-P-E-C-T” and “TCB.” She was taking care of business!

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Progressive education

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: Sarah Palin made a statement a year or so ago about "progressing this nation." It grated on my nerves but I figured it was her ignorance and not mine. Then the other night I read in a respectable publication a very similar statement. Is this usage correct?

A: We generally use the verb "progress" in the sense of to proceed, go forward, grow, develop, etc. In this sense, it's an intransitive verb, one that doesn't need an object. For example, "The work progressed rapidly."

English speakers have been using "progress" this way since the 16th and 17th centuries, according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

Here's an example from Shakespeare's play The Life and Death of King John (circa 1616): "Let me wipe off this honourable dewe, / That silverly doth progresse on thy cheekes."

The two US dictionaries I use the most – The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (4th ed.) and Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary (11th ed.) – list the verb "progress" only one way: as an intransitive verb.

But Sara Palin used “progress” as a transitive verb, one that requires an object, when she said in November 2008: "Let's talk about progressing this nation."

She used the word here as a gerund, a verb that acts as a noun but retains the same features as the verb. In other words, if the verb is transitive or intransitive, its gerund is too.

So was Palin’s English legit?

Well, American dictionaries don't consider it standard English to use “progress” transitively, as she used it, but the OED begs to disagree. It has published references from the 18th to the 21st centuries for "progress" as a transitive verb.

It describes this usage as originally American, but it has many published references from English sources, including (surprisingly) one from the second edition of Fowler's Modern English Usage.

Sir Ernest Gowers, who revised and edited H. W. Fowler's classic 1926 usage guide in 1965, says the transitive verb is "now much used in the manufacturing and building industries in the sense of pushing a job forward by regular stages."

R. W. Burchfield, editor of The New Fowler's Modern English Usage (1996), includes the transitive usage and cites a 1978 article in the Observer that refers to welders who "progress their own work to completion."

Like you, I find the usage irritating and klutzy, but Palin has the OED and the latest two editions of Fowler's in her corner, linguistically anyway.

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A class act

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: My friend and I were having an argument about the word "class." She says it's superficial and exclusionary, referring merely to good etiquette. I say “class” is much deeper. It also refers to our morals and dignity, especially in the context of how we treat others. What do you say?

A: The word "class" comes from the Latin classis, a division of the Roman people. The first census, according to Roman tradition, divided the people into six "classes" based on property assessments.

In English, "class" has had many meanings over the years, but I won't go into the academic, military, legal, and scientific ones.

Some meanings in the social sense would indeed qualify as elitist in your friend's view. But "class" has other meanings that refer to a person's merit rather than to his pedigree or bank balance.

In the 17th century, when it entered the language, the noun "class" meant "a division or order of society according to status; a rank or grade of society," the Oxford English Dictionary says.

The term, according to the OED, is "now common in the phrases higher (upper), middle, lower classes, working classes; which appear to be of modern introduction. Higher and lower orders were formerly used."

The use of "class" in these phrases, the OED adds, is largely derived from another 17th-century meaning of the word: "a number of individuals (persons or things) possessing common attributes, and grouped together under a general or ‘class’ name; a kind, sort, division."

In the 1800s, "class" was often used to mean high rank, and "the classes" meant "the classes of the community raised above or separated from ‘the masses’ or great body of the people," the OED says.

Here are a couple of citations by British prime ministers for "class" used in the sense of high rank:

From Benjamin Disraeli's novel Sybil (1845): "Walled out from sympathy by prejudices and convictions more impassable than all the mere consequences of class."

And from William Gladstone in the Pall Mall Gazette (1886): "Station, title, wealth, social influence ... in a word, the spirit and power of class."

But since the 19th century, "class" has also taken on a more democratic meaning, having to do with merit. The OED labels this sense ("distinction, high quality") as slang or colloquial.

In print, this usage dates from 1874, when it appeared in John C. Hotten's A Dictionary of Modern Slang, Cant, and Vulgar Words with this definition:

"Class, the highest quality or combination of highest qualities among athletes. ‘He's not class enough’, i.e., not good enough. ‘There's a deal of class about him’, i.e., a deal of quality."

The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (4th ed.), in its definitions of “class,” includes this "informal" usage: "Elegance of style, taste, and manner: an actor with class."

American Heritage defines a "class act" as "one of distinctive and superior quality."

Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary (11th ed.) includes among its definitions “high quality,” as in “a hotel with class,” and “the best of its kind,” as in “the class of the league.”

M-W says a "class act" (which it dates from 1976) is "an example of outstanding quality or prestige."

I think there's another meaning, too, that has to do with a person's behavior and bearing.

Someone who behaves nobly – say, defending an unpopular principle, sacrificing something for a greater good, turning the other cheek to keep the peace when he'd rather kick butt – shows class.

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No ifs, ands, or buts

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: After devouring Origins of the Specious in two sittings, I have a question: On page 162, you use the expression "no ifs, ands, or buts." Are you OK with this? Has it replaced "no ifs, ans, or buts" in the segment of the grammarphile community that doesn't have a stick up its you-know-what?

A: The common expression is indeed "No ifs, ands, or buts." However, you may wonder what "and" is doing there. As it happens, "and" is there for a reason.

The original expression was "ifs and ands" (sometimes "ifs or ands") when it showed up in print in the early 16th century, according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

At the time, the word "and" was often used in a conditional sense, and its meaning, the OED says, was "if; suppose that, provided that, on condition that."

This use of the conditional "and" dates back to about 1225 in recorded English. So, a phrase like "and it please your grace" would mean "if it please your grace."

When the expression "ifs and ands" came along in the 1500s, it essentially meant "ifs and ifs."

The first recorded use is from Sir Thomas More's unfinished work The History of Kyng Richard the Third, which More wrote about 1513.

In a particularly dramatic passage, the mad King Richard pulls up a sleeve to display his withered arm (a birth defect) and claims the deformity is recent – the result of sorcery and treason.

The Lord Chamberlain answers, "Certainly my lorde if they have so heinously done, thei be worthy heinous punishment."

To which Richard flies into a rage: "Thou servest me, I wene, with iffes and with andes." ("Wene" is an archaic word meaning something like "believe" or "suspect.")

Here's another, somewhat cooler, example of "ifs and ands" a century and a half later, from the English philosopher Ralph Cudworth's The True Intellectual System of the Universe (1678): "Absolutely and without any Ifs and Ands."

Around this same time, "buts" were added to the mix. This is from the works of the Puritan theologian Thomas Goodwin (about 1680): "The Grants of Grace run without Ifs, and Ands, and Buts."

The phrase has generally been "ifs, ands, or buts" for the last 300 years. In contemporary English, the OED notes, the "and" is no longer the old conditional "and," but is "now prob. mostly understood as the ordinary sense of the word."

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Insect aside

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Sun, 31 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: A relative of mine used the expression “meat bees” to describe the insects buzzing around the burgers when she was on a camping trip. I googled the term and discovered it referred to yellow jackets, but I couldn’t find its etymology. Do you have any idea where it comes from?

A: What an interesting (though creepy) question! Etymology meets entomology.

The creature you're talking about is not a bee per se, but a kind of wasp, the Western yellow jacket (Vespula pensylvanica), a scavenging variety found in warmer parts of the western and northwestern US and Canada as well as Hawaii.

The Western yellow jacket is often called the "meat bee" because it's attracted to meat (it has a gigantic appetite for protein).

It's often seen around garbage cans, around campsites (where it competes with campers for their hamburgers and hot dogs), or around pet-food dishes kept outside.

Meat bees are a major headache in the summer months in California and year-round in Hawaii.

These wasps are extremely aggressive, both when they're foraging for food and when their nests are disturbed.

They build their nests underground, often in abandoned rodent burrows, so an unwary walker can inadvertently set off a swarm of angry Vespula pensylvanica.

The meat bee is not to be confused with the non-scavenging aerial yellow jacket (Dolichovespula species), which makes its paper nests in the open air and which is considered beneficial because it feeds on insects.

The University of California, Davis, has an informative web page on Vespula pensylvanica and other yellow jackets. If you’d like to read more, check it out.

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The more things change

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: I’m laughing my way through Origins of the Specious (I’m now on Chapter 2), but I take issue with your belief that common usage eventually legitimizes sloppy language. This is sorta like the ‘60s mantra: If it feels good, do it.

A: I’m glad you’re enjoying the book. I’d like to comment on your statement that Stewart and I believe "common usage eventually legitimizes sloppy language."

This is more or less true, of course, but it has been the case since the very earliest days of English. And we're hardly the first to make this observation, as you’ll see as you get further into the book.

Words change over time in their meaning, their spelling, their pronunciation, their number (singular or plural), and even their function (nouns become verbs and vice versa, for instance).

What this means is that what's considered sloppy in one century may be correct in the next, and vice versa.

Here are a few examples, many of which I've written about before in the blog.

In Chaucer's time the word "girl" meant a child of either sex.

The word "cute," back in the days when it was short for "acute," meant shrewd or perceptive or calculating (though it has also meant bow-legged!). "Cute" in the sense in which we use it today was considered schoolboy slang in the 19th century.

"Awful" used to mean awe-inspiring. "Wonderful" meant wonder-producing (and was often negative). "Terrible" meant terror-producing.

So in 18th-century novels, you might find a magnificent cathedral described as "awful," a sudden catastrophe described as "wonderful," or a fierce animal described as "terrible."

The word "nice," at various times in the past, has meant foolish, overly fastidious, wanton, and profligate. In other words, not very nice.

"Incredible," which once meant literally "not credible," has come to mean very good in the mouths of some speakers. "Sophisticated" once meant corrupted, and "silly" meant happy.

You get the drift. When these words were in the process of changing and were being used in new ways, people wrung their hands and worried that English was going down the drain.

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Incidentally, Franny has the measles

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Fri, 29 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: When did the word “incidentally” lose popularity? Was it ever really popular outside of J. D. Salinger’s books? For me, it's another older word that I like but can't use because it doesn't seem to fit into conversation anymore.

A: Hmm. I don’t think “incidentally” has fallen out of favor, even among people who haven’t read Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters. In fact, I just googled the word and got 15 million hits.

"Incidentally" first appeared in print in the mid-17th century, meaning "in an incidental manner; as an incident, or a subordinate and casual circumstance," according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

The earliest OED citation for the word in its modern sense (“in point of fact,” “by the way”) is from Theodore Dreiser's 1925 novel An American Tragedy: "Incidentally by that time the sex lure or appeal had begun to manifest itself."

And, of course, it appears several times in Raise High the Roof Beam (1955), as in this excerpt from Boo Boo’s letter to Buddy:

“Franny has the measles, for one thing. Incidentally, did you hear her last week? She went on at beautiful length about how she used to fly all around the apartment when she was four and no one was home.”

Incidentally, H. W. Fowler didn't like the word. In his Modern English Usage (1926), he said it was "now very common as a writer's apology for an irrelevance."

Perhaps, but I'm with you. I like the word. And I use it myself. I see nothing wrong with a little wholesome irrelevance once in a while.

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Honey, I sunk the boat

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: I’ve noticed that even the best-edited publications sometimes use “sunk” instead of “sank” for the past tense of “sink.” This leaves me with a sinking feeling. What can we do about the loss of a perfectly good four-letter word that can be spoken in any company?

A: Both "sank" and "sunk" are correct for the past tense of "sink." The two are listed without comment in The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (4th ed.) and Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary (11th ed.), which means they're considered standard English.

So it's correct to say either "the boat sank" or "the boat sunk." The past participle is "sunk," as in "the boat has sunk."

In case you're wondering, the same is true – almost! – for "shrink."

American Heritage says the past tense is "shrank," while Merriam-Webster's allows both "shrank" and "shrunk" in the past tense. But I think the writing is on the wall and "shrunk" will come to be accepted by American Heritage too.

Merriam-Webster's Dictionary of English Usage says "shrunk" is "undoubtedly standard" in the past tense, though the preference in written usage seems to be for "shrank."

The usage guide adds that "in linguistic surveys conducted in the eastern and midwestern US several decades ago more than 80 percent of the people polled used shrunk in preference to shrank."

In 1995, William Safire drew catcalls from the "Gotcha!" gang for using "shrunk" in the past tense in the New York Times. Why did he do it? Here’s how he explained it:

"Because Walt Disney got to me, I guess: the 1989 movie Honey, I Shrunk the Kids did to 'shrank' what Winston cigarettes did to 'as': pushed usage in the direction of what people were casually saying rather than what they were carefully writing."

But back to "sunk," which has bounced back and forth in acceptability over the centuries. Arguments over it are nothing new. For instance, I found a spirited defense of "sunk" in the past tense in an 1895 issue of the journal The Writer.

In the history of English, the use of "sunk" in the past tense has been "extremely common," according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

In fact, the OED cites Samuel Johnson's dictionary of 1755 as giving the past tense as "I sunk, anciently sank."

Johnson himself used "sunk" as the past tense, as in this citation from his treatise Taxation No Tyranny (1775): "The constitution sunk at once into a chaos."

But Johnson was right: "anciently," to use his word, the accepted past tense was indeed "sank."

The verb was sincan in Old English, with the past tense sanc and the past participle suncon or suncen.

The old past tense seems to have been preserved into Middle English, the form of the language spoken between 1100 and 1500.

Here's an example from Arthur and Merlin (circa 1330): "Wawain on the helme him smot, / The ax sank depe, god it wot."

But in modern English, both "sank" and "sunk" have appeared as past tenses. In fact, "sunk" may have been preferred in literary usage.

Here's a citation from the Bible in 1611: "The stone sunke into his forehead." And here's an example, from Sir William Jones's poem Seven Fountains (1767): "The light bark, and all the airy crew, / Sunk like a mist beneath the briny dew."

"Sunk" was used by Addison and Steele in the Spectator in the 18th century, and by Sir Walter Scott in the 19th.

In fact, Scott's novels are full of "sunk," as in this passage from The Heart of Midlothian (1818): "Jeanie sunk down on a chair, with clasped hands, and gasped in agony."

Some commentators have suggested that the return of the "sink/sank/sunk" progression (along with a distaste for "sunk" as a past tense) may have been influenced by the similar irregular verbs "drink/drank/drunk," "swim/swam/swum," "ring/rang/rung," and others.

This common pattern, by the way, probably inspired "brang" and "flang" as illegitimate past tenses of "bring" and "fling."

And it probably also brought about "snuck," the much-reviled past tense of "sneak," which dictionaries now accept as standard English and which I've written about before on the blog.

To recap, these days it's no crime to say "the boat sunk" or – depending on which dictionary you read – "my jeans shrunk."

But the grammar police will still nab you for using a past participle instead of the simple past when that's inappropriate, as in "The bell rung" or "I drunk the milk" or "She sung off key."

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The cocktail party

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Wed, 27 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: I wonder if you can help me find the etymology of the word "cocktail." I've looked in a few places, but haven’t found a satisfactory answer.

A: I can see why you’re having trouble tracking down the use of “cocktail” for a mixed drink. There are lots of popular theories about the origin of this usage, but I don't buy any of them.

(I've read that a footnote in H. L. Mencken's The American Language lists 40 different etymologies for the term. Unfortunately, I don't see the footnote in my 1937 edition of the book.)

The Morris Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins says its favorite etymology for the term is that Antoine Peychaud, a New Orleans pharmacist and the creator of Peychaud's bitters, popularized the use of "cocktail" for a mixed drink that he served to customers.

Well, Peychaud may have helped popularize the term, but it appeared in print well before he opened his pharmacy in the 1830s.

The first citation for "cocktail" in the Oxford English Dictionary is from an 1803 issue of The Farmer's Cabinet, an Amherst, N.H., weekly: "Drank a glass of cocktail – excellent for the head ... Call'd at the Doct's ... drank another glass of cocktail."

The word sleuth Michael Quinion, in an item about “cocktail” on his World Wide Words website, lists quite a few questionable (and entertaining) etymologies.

For example, an innkeeper named Betsy (or Betty) Flannigan supposedly used the tail feathers of a cock as swizzle sticks when serving drinks during the American Revolution.

And the Marquis de Lafayette, according to another story, carried an old French recipe for mixed wines, called coquetel, to America during the Revolution.

Although we don’t know – and may never know – who first used “cocktail” to refer to a mixed drink, I wonder if the originator of this usage may have had the word’s equine history in mind.

In the late 18th and early 19th centuries, according to the OED, the term “cock-tailed” was used to refer to a coach horse or hunter with “the tail docked, so that the short stump left sticks up like a cock's tail.”

Eventually the word “cocktail” came to be used for a “horse of racing stamp and qualities, but decidedly not thorough-bred, from a known stain in his parentage,” according to a 19th-century dictionary of rural sports.

Did the use of “cocktail” for a mixed-breed horse with spirit influence the use of the word for a spirited mixed drink? Or vice versa? It’s hard to tell from the few OED citations, but I wouldn’t bet against the horse.

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Deference mechanism

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: Why do we begin sentences with "if" when we request something? For example: "If you could line up outside the building ..." If what? I seldom hear the ending. Also, here’s a pet peeve of mine – the overuse of "amazing." I've determined that nothing is actually amazing because everything is amazing.

A: My opinion is that when people use "if" instead of "please" to ask others to do something, it reflects shyness, timidity, or deference on their part.

Often this kind of timid request is accompanied by a rising, questioning inflection at the end: "If you could just move a bit to one side?"

The unspoken part of the sentence is probably something like ".... I'd really appreciate it."

I think this kind of request indicates an unwillingness (or an inability) to come right out and ask.

As for “amazing,” you're not the first to complain to me about the overuse of this word, which has grown to amazing proportions!

I think it’s replaced "awesome" as the adjective du jour, and it will probably be replaced by something else when it loses its du jour-ness.

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Above suspicion

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: Can a package be suspicious or does it need a person to be suspicious of it?

A: The adjective "suspicious" can properly be applied to a person who entertains suspicions, or to a person or thing inspiring suspicion in others.

So, a package with a ticking noise inside may indeed be suspicious, though someone or something (a nosey cat, for instance) must suspect that something is up.

The Oxford English Dictionary has these definitions under its entry for "suspicious":

(1) "Open to, deserving of, or exciting suspicion; that is or should be an object of suspicion; suspected, or to be suspected; of questionable character."

(2) "Full of, inclined to, or feeling suspicion; disposed to suspect; suspecting; esp. disposed to suspect evil, mistrustful."

Interestingly, the first definition (the one that would apply to that package of yours) is the oldest, dating back to the early 14th century.

In The Canterbury Tales, for example, written around 1386, Chaucer describes a sergeant’s reputation (diffame in Middle English) as suspicious: “Suspecious was the diffame of this man, / Suspect his face, suspect his word also.”

It wasn’t until around the beginning of the 15th century that people, as well as things, could be suspicious. Now, who would have suspected that?

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On home ground

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: I was wondering if you have any idea how the word "homely" came to mean ugly in the US and homey in the UK? I have not been able to track down this etymology.

A: As far as I can tell, the word “homely” means the same thing on both sides of the Atlantic, and it has for hundreds of years. Although “homely” can mean plain or unattractive, I think “ugly” is too strong a word to use here.

The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (4th ed.) and Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (11th ed.) define it as not attractive, lacking elegance, simple, unpretentious, or homelike. No mention of ugly!

When the adjective "homely" first showed up in English in the 1300s, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, it meant "of or belonging to the home or household,” but this meaning is now obscure.

At around the same time "homely" came to mean simple, plain, or ordinary, which is understandable, since what's most familiar to us can seem commonplace or humdrum.

The earliest citation in the OED for this sense, which has lasted into our time, is from Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales (c. 1386): “Thanne hadde I with yow hoomly suffisaunce.”

This sense of the word is defined in the OED as “unsophisticated, simple; plain, unadorned, not fine; everyday, commonplace; unpolished, rough, rude” as well as that which "belongs to home or is produced or practised at home (esp. a humble home).”

The dictionary adds that this meaning of the word is “sometimes approbative, as connoting the absence of artificial embellishment; but often apologetic, depreciative, or even as a euphemism for wanting refinement, polish, or grace."

”Homely” has been used in this sense to refer not only to things but also (since the 16th century) to people.

In reference to people, the OED says, the principal meaning that has survived is "of commonplace appearance or features; not beautiful, ‘plain,’ uncomely. "

As far as we know, Shakespeare was the first to use the word to mean lacking in personal beauty. Here's the citation, from The Comedy of Errors (1590): "Hath homelie age th'alluring beauty tooke / From my poore cheeke?"

Probably because "homely" lost its cozy and homelike connotations, another word sprang up to replace it: "homey," which was born in the mid-19th century.

The OED defines "homey" as "resembling or suggestive of home; home-like; having the feeling of home; homish." The first citation is from the Victorian writer Charles Kingsley's Letters and Memories of His Life (1856): "I like to ... feel ‘homey’ wherever I be."

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Subjunctive matter

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: I try not to pay much attention to grammar in songs, knowing it gets sacrificed for rhythm and such. But hymns in church are almost always in proper English, which is why I did a double take to see: “O come, O come, Emmanuel, / And ransom captive Israel, / That mourns in lonely exile here / Until the Son of God appear." Is it just me, or should the last word be “appears”?

A: The use of “appear” in the hymn “O come, O come Emmanuel” (John Mason Neal’s 19th-century translation of the Latin text Veni, veni, Emmanuel) is an archaic use of the subjunctive mood.

The meaning of the last line you cited is "Until the Son of God [should, or happens to] appear."

We no longer use the subjunctive in a sentence like this. We would use the indicative mood ("appears"). However, an echo of that old usage survives in the expression "until death do us part."

The subjunctive mood is used to express something hypothetical: something wished, imagined, demanded, and so on.

It was once used much more often than it is today. These days, English speakers use the subjunctive mood (instead of the normal indicative mood) for only three purposes:

(1) To express a wish: "I wish I were thinner." [Not: "I wish I was thinner."]

(2) To express an "if" statement about a condition that's contrary to fact: "If I were a rich man ..." [Not: "If I was a rich man ..."]

(3) To express that something is being asked, demanded, ordered, suggested, and so on: "I suggest he find a job." [Not: "I suggest he finds a job."]

However, some older vestiges of the subjunctive survive in expressions like "God forbid” [not “God forbids”]; "Long live the Queen” [not “Long lives the Queen”]; "the powers that be” [not “the powers that are”]"; and "come what may” [not “comes what may”].

We also use it in sentences like "I hurried, lest I be late," and "He loves art, whether it be painting, sculpture, or music," and "Come February, the mortgage will be paid off."

If you’d like to read more, I wrote a blog item last year about the modern use of the subjunctive in English.

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Vicious etymology

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: Which is correct, “vicious cycle” or “vicious circle”? I think the former, but I often hear about the latter and wonder if it’s now acceptable.

A: Every once in a while someone asks me about these phrases and wonders which is right. The short answer is that both are correct, especially in American English, though they may have somewhat different meanings.

The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (4th ed.) and Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (11th ed.) have entries for only “vicious circle,” but they list “vicious cycle” as a legitimate variant for one of the meanings.

Both American Heritage and Merriam-Webster’s define “vicious circle” as (1) a circular argument or (2) a situation in which the apparent solution to one problem creates a second one that makes it harder to solve the original problem.

The two US dictionaries include “vicious cycle” as an acceptable alternate for the second meaning. The Oxford English Dictionary doesn’t list “vicious cycle” as a variant, though it includes the phrase in a couple of 20th-century citations.

The original expression was "vicious circle," used in the sense of a circular argument.

Logicians in the early 17th century used the term "vicious" (from the Latin vitiosus, meaning faulty or defective) to refer to a flawed syllogism.

Here's an OED citation from 1697: "If from true premisses follows what is false, it is a sign that the form of the syllogism is vitious."

By extension, the phrase "vicious circle" was used in the 1700s for an argument that circles back on itself because its premise is flawed (usually the premise is used to justify the conclusion, which in turn is used to justify the premise).

By the way, there are now variations on both phrases that substitute "virtuous" for "vicious." The expression "virtuous circle" was first recorded, as far as we know, in the 1950s, and was modeled after the phrase "vicious circle."

The OED defines a "virtuous circle" as "a recurring cycle of events, the result of each one being to increase the beneficial effect of the next."

Here's a citation from The Past Masters, a 1953 novel by Edith Simon: "It will be a virtuous circle of publicity attracting helpers and, I trust, supplementary donations, and these begetting more publicity."

The OED has no citations for "virtuous cycle," but I suspect that it piggybacked its way into the language by way of "virtuous circle" and means much the same thing.

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Healthy, wealthy, and wise

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: I am an English language teacher in rural New Brunswick, Canada. I listen to you on WNYC every month and stream your segment several times. My question concerns this quote from Ben Franklin: “Early to bed and early to rise, Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.” Why is the verb singular?

A: Before I get to your question, let me clear up a common misconception. Benjamin Franklin was not the author of that popular proverb.

The first person to use it in print was John Clarke in Paroemiologia Anglo-Latina, a 1639 book of English and Latin proverbs.

Franklin included the proverb in Poor Richard's Almanack, which he published between 1732 and 1758. As Franklin scholars know, he relied primarily on proverb collections for the proverbs in his Almanack.

This particular proverb was printed as advice for the month of October in his Poor Richard's Almanack for the Year 1735. Here is how it appeared: "Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy wealthy and wise."

Here is how it appeared in Clarke's 1639 collection, which I was able to read on the database Early English Books Online: "Earely to bed and earely to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise."

Collections of proverbs are just that – not original works but compendiums of old sayings. So the proverb that appeared in Clarke's book naturally preceded him as well. As Fred Shapiro, the editor of the Yale Book of Quotations, notes: "The Oxford Dictionary of Proverbs gives similar expressions back to 1496."

Franklin was known to tinker with proverbs whose phrasing he thought he could improve, but note that he used the same words (though not the same punctuation and spelling) that Clarke did.

They both used the singular verb "makes," even though the sentence has a compound subject that would appear to be plural. The subject is two noun phrases ("early to bed” … “early to rise") combined by "and."

Normally, a subject consisting of two nouns or noun phrases linked by "and" requires a plural verb. The exception occurs when the two are considered a single entity, as in "Two and two makes four," or "The Stars and Stripes was proudly displayed," or "Meatloaf and mashed potatoes is my favorite meal."

The Cambridge Grammar of the English Language describes this kind of construction as an "override" of the normal rules of subject-verb agreement.

"Such examples can be regarded as involving a singular override," it says, explaining that "the subject is conceptualised as a single unit and this determines the singular verb."

The Cambridge Grammar gives an example that could go either way: "Your laziness and your ineptitude amaze/amazes me."

As the authors explain, "both singular and plural verbs are possible, the singular conveying that the laziness and ineptitude form a single cause of amazement, the plural conveying that each of them is a cause of amazement."

Getting back to our proverb, it seems to me that the singular verb ("makes") tells us that both retiring and rising early are required.

It's the combination, rather than two separate practices, that forms the subject of the sentence (and makes us healthy, wealthy, and wise).

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Opposition research

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: You wrote in 2008 and 2007 about words that have totally opposing – or at least wildly differing – meanings. For example, “sanction “and “cleave.” By what etymological process do these words develop? Perhaps the language deities have a sense of humor.

A: These two-faced words are usually called "contronyms," though they are sometimes referred to as "auto-antonyms," “self-antonyms,” or "Janus words" (after the god with two faces).

In addition to “sanction” (to approve or penalize) and “cleave” (to cling or part), some others are “screen” (to view or hide from view), “bolt” (to flee or fix in place), and “weather" (to stand up to stress or be eroded by stress).

Each of these words (and there are many more) developed its opposing meanings for different reasons.

In the case of "cleave," it comes from two distinct verbs with different roots in Old English. The one (cleofian or clifian) meant "cling" or "stick," and the other (cleofan) meant "split" or "divide."

The two eventually merged in spelling and pronunciation, and the differing meanings were preserved.

In the case of "sanction," the verb originally meant to ratify or confirm by enactment. A little later this came to mean to permit; still later it grew to mean to enforce by imposing penalties.

The verb followed the much earlier noun, which first meant a law or decree and later meant a penalty.

Etymologically, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, it may be an adaptation of the Latin sanctionem ("action of ordaining as inviolable under a penalty, also a decree or ordinance").

In the 17th century, the noun "sanction" was "extended to include the provision of rewards for obedience, along with punishments for disobedience, to a law," the OED says.

So in looser senses it grew to mean encouragement or support on the one hand, and coercive measures on the other.

Such are the ways of language!

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Hear Pat live today on WNYC

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 13:00:00 +0000

She'll be on the Leonard Lopate Show around 1:20 PM Eastern time to discuss the English language and take questions from callers. If you miss a program, you can listen to it on Pat’s WNYC page.

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Service with a smile

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Tue, 19 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: I’ve noticed that people now use the verb “service” in place of “serve,” as in “How may I service you?” Doesn’t “service” refer to fixing an appliance or performing a sexual act?

A: I haven't noticed this usage myself, but another reader emailed me about it a year or so ago.

In fact, the original meaning of the verb "service" was the one you’re hearing now: to serve, to provide with a service, to be of service.

The first citation in the Oxford English Dictionary is from 1893 and appeared in Robert Louis Stevenson's novel Catriona: "If I am to service ye the way that you propose, I'll lose my lifelihood."

The word gained another meaning in 1926: to perform routine maintenance or repair work on a car or other equipment (as in, "It's time to service the lawnmower").

In 1942, the verb took on another meaning: to pay interest on a debt (as in "the company can no longer service its debts"). It later came to mean to process a debt (“the bank transferred the mortgage and doesn’t service it anymore”).

And in 1961 the verb "service" was first recorded as meaning to provide sexual services (as in "the stallion serviced the mare").

This usage, according to the OED, comes from an earlier meaning of the verb "serve," which was used in reference to male animals, especially stallions and bulls, and meant "to cover (the female)."

The OED's first citation for this use of "serve" is from a book on husbandry published in 1577: "At halfe a yeere old they [boars] are able to serve a sowe."

In the Stevenson quotation from 1893, a person is the object being serviced; in the other OED citations for that sense (to be of service, etc.), the object being serviced is not a person but a thing (a town, a trade route, a region, and so on).

These days, most of us don't speak of "servicing" other people, probably because of the word's sexual connotations.

Though the sexual meaning of the verb "service" was first used in reference to animals, it later was (and still is) used, especially in ribald jokes, about people.

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Lyric victory

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: I recently heard a very old song called "The Same Old South." Two lines of lyrics are: “Let the Northerners keep Niagra / We'll stick to our Southern polygra.” I’ve tried googling “polygra” with no success. Do you know what it is?

A: The lyric, from the song "It's the Same Old South," actually goes like this: "Let the Northerners keep Niagra, / We'll stick to our Southern pellagra."

Pellagra is a disease caused by a dietary deficiency (the lack of niacin), and it was common in the South at the turn of the 19th and early 20th centuries. Black field workers were particularly hard-hit by pellagra.

The blues singer Jimmy Rushing recorded the song, a sarcastic commentary on the Jim Crow South, with Count Basie and his orchestra in 1940.

The song, with lyrics by Ed Eliscu and music by Jay Gorney, was originally part of a satirical labor revue called Meet the People, which opened in Los Angeles in 1939. Here are the final lines of the song:

"Oh, honey, shut my mouth / Where the bloodhounds that once chased Liza / Chase a poor old CIO organizer / It's the same old South."

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A mollusk proposition

noreply@blogger.com (Pat and Stewart) — Sun, 17 Jan 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Q: Where does the phrase "warm the cockles of my heart” come from and what does it really mean?

A: You've heard of cockleshells? Well, cockles, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, are bivalve mollusks "common on sandy coasts, and much used for food." This creature has been known as a "cockle" since the late 1390s.

Some etymologists think the 17th-century phrase "cockles of one's heart" may come from the heart's resemblance to a cockleshell.

Others think it may have something to do with the Greek-derived zoological name for the cockle, Cardium ("of the heart").

And still others, as the OED says, have sought its origin in the Latin corculum, a diminutive of cor, or "heart."

Whatever the origin, hearts have had cockles ever since. Here are some of the OED citations:

1671, in the writings of John Eachard: "This contrivance of his did inwardly rejoice the cockles of his heart."

1739, in Roger Bull's translation of Dedekindus' Grobianus: "O! how you'd please the Cockles of my Heart."

1792, in a letter of Sir Walter Scott: "An expedition ... which would have delighted the very cockles of your heart."

1858, from a letter of Charles Darwin: "I have just had the innermost cockles of my heart rejoiced by a letter from Lyell."

The modern expression, as the OED points out, is "to warm the cockles of one's heart." It means to raise one's spirits or give one pleasure.

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