JACT's blog

For Sir Alex Ferguson to have called Manchester City (motto, superbia in proelio) ‘noisy neighbours’ he must have been sick of them. Not that he was thinking of them throwing a technicolor yawn or a big spit (as the Antipodean vernacular has it) since it’s hardly likely he was referencing (as the academic vernacular has it) the etymology of noise. Its origin via Old French noise (uproar) from Latin nausea (sea sickness, sickness, disgust) and Greek nausia/nautia (sea sickness) is sometimes questioned since ‘it is difficult to accept the disparity of both sense and form’ (Chambers Dictionary of Etymology). Eric Partridge (Adventuring Among Words p.27-8) vents his annoyance on the lack of imagination of those who couldn’t hear ‘the outcries of fear, groans and moans and retchings’ or the creakings, howlings,whistlings and other sea and storm noises, all of which give sea sickness its rich aural quality. No wonder ‘throwing your voice’ has a whole new (Antipodean) sense. Nausea is undoubtably noisy and noisome.
Noisome (offensive) may be an alphabetic neighbour, but it lost an initial a- (ME noye) and is in fact related to annoy (from Old French anoier). The Late Latin source appears to have been inodiare (to make loathsome) which was formed from Latin in odio esse (to be hated). Did Sir Alex find his neighbours odious, noisome, nauseating or noisy when they won the league? Their superbia (pride) and noise must have been hard to swallow.

Alan Beale

sum pius Aeneas are the words used to describe himself by the hero (or saint?) of the Aeneid (pity it’s not going to catch on like ‘I’m Spartacus’). He’s pius because he’s doing his bit for family, people and gods. Latin pietas means ‘dutiful respect towards those to whom one is bound by ties of religion, consanguinity etc.’ (OLD), and so piety has been used in English, although it is now mostly used to signify devout religious practice.

Pity also came from pietas which had developed the meaning ‘compassion’ in Late Latin. Although English pity and piety often overlapped in sense before the 17thC, now pity is either compassion or something that inspires regret. That pity’s reduced ˈtis true; ˈtis true, ˈtis pity; and pity ˈtis, ˈtis true. Was Shakespeare getting in a ˈtis was … etc.?

Medieval pietas also developed the meaning ‘charitable gift’ and a monk’s allowance was called his pitantium (or similar spelling, derived from pietas). From there, English formed pittance. So when you’re working for a pittance, you should be a monk, though you may just be pitifully poor – but pitiful and pitiable can mean contemptible as well as deserving of pity. Who therefore wants to be pitied? Or pious? immo, sum pius Aeneas ain’t catching on.

Alan Beale

French suivre comes from Latin sequor, sequi, secutus (to follow) and from the French come forms like pursue (from L prosequi). So a suitor is attentive in his (pur)suit, and a prosecutor pursues a lawsuit. Suit (followers’ attendance) subsequently refers to the livery or uniform of attendants, suitably attired (in suits?). Were the cards in Wonderland in suits? Attendance might be in a suite (of connected rooms, though perhaps not the en suite bathroom) or on a suite (of furniture). Followers tend to be obsequious (Latin obsequens compliant, obliging) and attend obsequies (funeral rites) although the Latin is exsequiae (at some point ex- gave way to ob-, perhaps in Medieval L or earlier – Apuleius has feralia obsequia for funeral rites). Does anything of such consequence ensue that there is a sequel (Latin sequella, consequence)? That may be a consecutive clause but is there no persecution, no execution, no pursuivant in pursuit, no … Not going to follow suit? Well, suit yourself – or is that a non-sequitur?

Followed to the hollow? Shame about the suer.

Alan Beale

As the 24 year old Craufurd Tait Ramage was making his solitary way through Lucania in 1828, sausages were the only food he was able to procure. He assumes (in The Nooks and By-Ways of Italy, published in 1868) these were the lucanicae mentioned by Cicero as a hors d’ oeuvre and proceeds to give the recipe from Apicius as, ‘An intestine stuffed with minced pork, mixed with ground pepper, cummin, savory, rue, rock parsley, berries of laurel and suet. The intestine is drawn out thinly and hung up in the smoke’ (Apicius 2.4, the ‘laurel’ being the bay and ‘suet’ his version of the Latin liquamen).

Botulism, food-poisoning caused by the bacillus Clostridium botulinum, ought to be ‘sausage poisoning’ since it comes from Latin botulus (sausage). Latin probably borrowed the word from Oscan or Umbrian, and it seems to be a blood sausage (‘black pudding’ OLD). It makes a spectacular appearance in Petronius’ Satyrica when at Trimalchio’s feast, the cook guts the roast pig before the guests and tomacula cum botulis (sausages with black puddings) pour out. [There’s an alternative reading thumatula (sausages seasoned with thyme) which is favoured by some.] In Martial 1.41, the list of street vendors features a raucus cocus (hoarse cook) peddling steaming sausages (tomacla). He’s the Roman equivalent of the loud, lowlife Sausage-Seller in Aristophanes’ Knights. But the name tomaculum is pertinent for a delicacy stuffed with finely chopped meat, as it probably derives from Greek tomē (cutting) with Latin suffix –culum.

Apicius gives recipes for other sausages under the heading farcimina. farcimen (sausage), as Varro says, comes from the verb farcio (farcire, farsi, fartum) meaning ‘to stuff’. The English derivation ‘to farce/force’ is no longer in use, but we do use ‘forcemeat’ for stuffing. So, is it farcical to suggest farce has any connection with sausages? Yes (or is that no?), interpolations and interludes stuffed into liturgy or mystery play have given us our ridiculous farce (theatre of the sausage?).

Sausage itself has a salty etymology. Latin salsus (preserved or flavoured with salt) is the root of such Medieval Latin sausage words as, salsicia, salcistrum, and saucistrum. Ramage traced the word to Italian salsiccia, ‘which has passed into our word sausage through the French saucisse.’ Probably related are ‘sauce’ (and ‘saucer’), from which comes ‘saucy’. French farce and saucy sausage: etymology at its wurst?

Alan Beale