egg on

11 September 2020

To egg someone on is to urge them to do something. The word has nothing to do with eggs, instead being more closely related to the word edge. It’s a borrowing of the Old Norse verb eggja meaning to incite. The noun and verb edge come from the same Germanic root, but via a different path.

The verb geeggian appears once in the extant Old English corpus, in a tenth-century gloss of the early eighth-century, Latin Lindisfarne Gospels. Mark 15:11 with its gloss reads:

Pontifices autem concitauerunt turbam ut magis barabban dimitteret eis.

(But the high priests urged the crowd to release Barabbas instead.)

ða biscobas ðonne gewæhton geeggedon ðone ðreat þætte suiðor ðone morsceaðe forleorte him

(But the bishops then deceived and egged on the crowd to have him release the thief instead.)

I give two translations into present-day English because the tenth-century Old English is subtly different from the eighth-century Latin.

The Lindisfarne Gospels were produced in Northumbria, in the north of England, and the dialect of that region has been heavily influenced by Old Norse, given that the Vikings settled in and ruled much of the area in the ninth through eleventh centuries. Most of the surviving Old English texts are written in West Saxon, spoken in the south. The word was probably more common in the Northumbrian dialect than in West Saxon, and it’s rarity is in large part due to the relatively few northern manuscripts surviving.

The verb appears in a number of Middle English manuscripts, the oldest being the Ormulum, written in the twelfth century. Lines 11683–84 read:

For deofell eggeþþ agg þe mann
To follghenn gluterrnesse.

(For the devil always eggs on the man
To follow the path of gluttony.)

The Ormulum is from further south, in the East Midlands region, but the dialect there was again heavily influenced by Old Norse, and the Ormulum has fewer Anglo-Norman influences than other English texts of the same period. Even the name of the manuscript comes from Ormin, the name of the author, a common Danish name of the period. Orm means worm or dragon.

Over time, to egg on worked its way into other English dialects, until today when it can be heard wherever English is spoken.

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Sources:

Dictionary of Old English: A to I, 2018, s.v. ge-eggian.

Holt, Robert. The Ormulum, vol. 2 of 2. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1878, 51. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Middle English Dictionary, 2019, s.v. eggen, v.(1).

Oxford English Dictionary, second edition, 1989, s.v. egg, v.1.

Skeat, Walter W. The Gospel According to Saint Mark in Anglo-Saxon and Northumbrian Versions. Cambridge: Deighton, Bell, and Co., 1871, 125. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

hot take

10 September 2020

A hot take is an opinion, often ill-considered, delivered more for its sensational effect than to contribute to reasoned debate. Given that people have been delivering hot takes since antiquity, it is a bit surprising that the term is so new.

The earliest use in print that I have found is from a 29 July 2013 television review in the Fitchburg, Massachusetts Sentinel & Enterprise:

Here's a hot take: Orange is the New Black isn't just the best Netflix show, or even the best new show of the year—it's the best show of 2013 period.

About a year later, the phrase is recorded in Urbandictionary.com:

hot take

An opinion based on simplistic moralizing rather than actual thought. Not to be confused with a strong take.

That's a hot take.

Hot takes are not limited to show biz. They are, obviously, perfectly at home in the world of politics, as this Politico piece from 23 July 2014 shows:

Today’s scorching hot take: “If anything, this year's environment for Democrats is shaping up to be as bleak,” reports NJ’s Josh Kraushaar.

And within a few years, you have university professors opining on the deleterious effects of political hot takes. From a 9 November 2016 Boston Globe piece quoting Northeastern University journalism professor Dan Kennedy:

“I read good, long pieces in several newspapers ... on this left-behind generation of the white working class that was supporting Trump," he said. "But it comes on a Sunday, you read it, and then it's gone. It's not top-of-mind, the way the day-to-day punditry and the latest Trump hot take is.”

But then given the rise of social media and clickbait journalism, perhaps it isn’t so surprising that hot takes are only now getting a name.

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Sources:

“Bite into Shark Week; ‘Orange’ is hot.” Sentinel & Enterprise (Fitchburg, Massachusetts), 29 July 2013. ProQuest.

Burgess, Everett. “Perdue vs. Nunn in GA.” Politico.com, 23 July 2014.

Scharfenberg, David. “Pundits, Politicians Failed to Detect Depth of Trump’s Support.” Boston Globe, 9 November 2016, A14. ProQuest.

Urbandictionary.com, 19 June 2014, s.v. hot take.

eeny, meany, miney, moe

9 September 2020

Eeny, meany, miney, moe, with variations in spelling, is a common counting-out rhyme used by children to select sides in a game or to select who is “it” in tag or other such games. The words are simply nonsense syllables, with no intrinsic meaning. Many versions of the rhyme, especially ones from fifty or more years ago, are racist, deploying the n-word, an example of how racism is developed and fostered in young children.

There are numerous variant versions that have been recorded over the years. The headline version presented in the Iona and Peter Opie’s Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes is:

Eena, meena, mina, mo,
Catch a n[——] by the toe;
If he squeals, let him go,
Eena, meena, mina, mo.

The n-word is not found in the earliest versions from the 1850s, but is recorded in the 1880s. The n-word variants appear to have originated in the United States, but quickly spread to other English-speaking countries. The Opies say the n-word in the rhyme was replaced with words like tiger, spider, and beggar in the mid 1970s, but I recall both the n-word and tiger competing during my childhood in the late 1960s, with the n-word version being taboo and transgressive even then. The deliberate suppression of racist versions would seem to have begun somewhat earlier, but non-racist versions have always existed alongside the n-word ones.

There are many different counting-out rhymes. Henry Bolton’s 1888 book on the subject records 877 different counting-out rhymes in a number of languages, dividing the English-language ones into thirteen distinct types. The eeny, meany ones, 78 in total from across the United States, Great Britain, and Ireland, occupy two of these groups, one with the n-word and one without.

In large part because few people bothered to write down what children were saying before the nineteenth century, we can’t say with any certainty how long children have been chanting eeny, meany..., but similar counting-out rhymes have been recorded since the mid nineteenth century. The earliest that I know barely belongs within this group, but it does use the nonsense word eeny. It’s a British version appearing in the journal Notes and Queries in 1854, recollected from the writer’s memory of their childhood of uncertain date:

One-er-y, two-er-y, tick-er-y, seven,
Ak-a-by, crack-a-by, ten, and eleven.
Pin, pan,
Musk-y Dan,
Twiddle-um, twaddle-um, twenty-one.
Black, fish, white, trout,
Ee-ny, o-ny,
You, go, OUT.

Some six months later, in February 1855, another correspondent to Notes and Queries gives the earliest recorded version, from the United States. So, they basic scheme of the rhyme seems to have been well established by then:

Eeeny, meeny moany, mite,
Butter, lather, boney, strike,
Hair, bit, frost, neck,
Harrico, barrico, we, wo, wack.

Eeny, meeny, tipty, te,
Teena, Dinah, Domine,
Hocca, proach, Domma, noach,
Hi, pon, tus.

One-ery, Two-ery, Hickory, Ann,
Filliston, Follaston, Nicholas, John,
Queeby, Quawby, Virgin, Mary,
Singalum, Sangalum, Buck.

William Wells Newell, in his 1883 Games and Songs of American Children, provides three variants from three different states:

(9.)       Eny, meny, mony, my,
           Tusca, leina, bona, stry,
           Kay bell, broken well,
           We, wo, wack.
                        —Massachusetts.

(10.)     Eny, meny, mony, mine,
           Hasdy, pasky, daily, ine,
           Agy, dagy, walk.
                        —Connecticut.

(11.)     Eny, meny, mony, mite,
          Butter, lather, bony strike,
          Hair cut, froth neck,
          Halico balico,
          We, wo, wack.
                        —Philadelphia.

But it is Bolton’s 1888 The Counting-Out Rhymes of Children that provides the most comprehensive overview of differing versions, including the version that I know from my childhood, the first to include the n-word:

600.     Eeny, meeny, miny, mo,
            Catch a n[——] by the toe;
            When he hollers, let him go.
            Eeny, meeny, miny, mo.

This is the favorite with American children, actually reported from nearly every State in the Union.

Bolton also reports n-word variants from Scotland and Ireland. According to the Opies, the n-word version, imported from the United States, subsequently became more common in Britain.

Various suggestions have been made as to what the words mean, such as being the first four numbers in some ancient language that have been miraculously preserved among children. Or there is this explanation Fred Jago’s 1882 glossary of the Cornish dialect:

Who would surmise that the talismanic words uttered by our children in their innocent games have come down to us very nearly as perfect as when spoken by the Ancient Briton; but with an opposite and widely different meaning? The only degree of likeness that lies between them now is that where the child of the present day escapes a certain kind of juvenile punishment the retention of the word originally meant DEATH in a most cruel and barbarous way [....] for this is a veritable phrase of great antiquity—“the excommunication of a human being, preparatory to that victim’s death.”

But as we have seen, the eeny, meany version is just one of many, and early versions use all sorts of variations on the line. Explanations like this (Cf. ring around the rosie) tend to focus on one of many versions, assuming that it is the original, and then construct an elaborate story about how the innocence of children masks a deep, dark past. Whenever you run into one of these explanations, you can almost certainly dismiss it as incorrect, and in this case, the explanation is simple: nonsense syllables.

It is true that children’s chants incorporate words and phrases from popular culture, and these phrases will spread beyond the reach of the original context in both time and place, until the meaning is forgotten. But these phrasings are almost invariably fragments in longer rhymes, and those longer rhymes rarely have connections to the distant past.

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Sources:

Bolton, Henry Carrington. The Counting-Out Rhymes of Children. New York: D. Appleton and Co., 1888, 103–08. Hathitrust Digital Archive.

Jago, Fred. W.P. The Ancient Language, and the Dialect of Cornwall. Truro: Netherton and Worth, 1882, 161–62. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Newell, William Wells. Games and Songs of American Children. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1883, 199. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Opie, Iona and Peter Opie. The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1997, 184–86.

Oxford English Dictionary, second edition, 1989, eeny, n.

Uneda. “The Schoolboy Formula.” Notes and Queries, vol. s1-11, no. 276, 10 February 1855. 113.

X. “The Schoolboy Formula.” Notes and Queries, vol. s1-10, no. 250, 12 August 1854. 124.

eavesdrop

1657 Dutch painting of a woman eavesdropping on a conversation between two lovers

1657 Dutch painting of a woman eavesdropping on a conversation between two lovers

8 September 2020

To eavesdrop is to surreptitiously listen in on a conversation to which one is not a party. It’s an old word, dating back to Old English, but the meaning has changed over the centuries. It originally had nothing to do with prying ears.

The original eavesdrop or eavesdrip was the space outside a building, under the eaves, where water would drain. An early appearance is as an endorsement to a grant of land in Kent. The charter was written in 888 C.E., but the endorsement is in a later hand:

& ðer ne gæbyreð an ðam landæ an folces folcryht to lefænne rumæs butan tƿigen fyt to yfæs drypæ.

(And there does not belong to any of these lands a people’s customary right to the leaving of two feet of room outside for the eavesdrip.)

The word eavesdropper, referring to someone who stands in an eavesdrop to listen to what is going inside the building appears in the fifteenth century. A juror’s oath from Colchester, England, probably dating to before 1450 outlines the matters the jury might consider and includes:

Also of al comen chiders and brawlers to the noyauns of ther neyghbours, and evisdroppyrs undyr mennys wyndowes, be night or be day, to bere awey tales or discovere their counsell, to make debate or discension among ther neighbours.

And legal records from the city of Nottingham from 1 October 1487 charges a certain Henry Rowley as being an eavesdropper. The record is in Latin, which is typical for legal papers of the era, but unusually it uses the English word:

ac diversis aliis diebus et vicibus, communiter et usualiter, apud Notingham praedictam, [Henry Rowley] est communis evysdropper et vagator in noctibus, in pertubationem populi Domini Regis et contra pacem suam.

(And on diverse other days and occasions, commonly and usually, at the aforesaid Nottingham, [Henry Rowley] is a common eavesdropper and wanderer in the night, to the perturbation of the people of our lord the king and against his peace.)

The verb is probably a backformation from the noun eavesdropper, as it doesn’t appear in the record until about 150 years later. From George Chapman’s 1606 play Sir Gyles Goosecappe:

We will be bold to evesdroppe; For I know
My friend is as respectiue in his chamber
And by himselfe, of any thing he does

Since then, of course, the word has generalized somewhat and now refers to any surreptitious listening. One no longer has to stand in an eavesdrop in order to eavesdrop.

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Sources:

Birch, Walter de Gray. “Grant by Cialulf to Eanmund, of Land in Canterbury, etc.” (Birch 519). Cartularium Saxonicum, vol. 2 of 3. London: Whiting, 1887, 134. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Chapman, George. Sir Gyles Goosecappe. London: John Windet for Edward Blunt, 1606. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Middle English Dictionary, 2018, s.v. eves-dropper, n.

“Oath for the Juries at the Three Law Hundreds. Matters as to Which They Were to Enquire and Present.” The Oath Book; or, Red Parchment Book of Colchester. Benham, W. Gurney, trans. Colchester: Essex County Standard Office, 1907, 4. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Oxford English Dictionary, second edition, 1989, s.v. eavesdrip | eavesdrop, n.; eavesdropper, n.; eavesdrop, v.

“Presentments at the Sessions” (1 October 1487). Records of the Borough of Nottingham, vol. 3. London: Bernard Quaritch, 1885, 10–11. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Image source: Nicholas Maes, 1657, Dordrechts Museum, public domain image.

dog eat dog

4 September 2020

The phrase dog eat dog designates ruthless competition. The metaphor underlying the phrase is ancient, but we’ve flipped it on its head in modern times.

The metaphor first appears in Marcus Terentius Varro’s (116–27 BCE) De lingua Latina (The Latin Language), but the sense is that animals are better than humans in that they don’t prey on their own kind:

canis caninam non est

(dog does not eat dog)

The phrase enters English with a 1533 translation of Erasmus’s 1517 essay on war, popularly known as Bellum Erasmi. The original Latin work was something of a sixteenth-century bestseller, with translations and printings throughout Europe. The relevant passage of the English translation reads:

Nor it is not the nature of all wylde beastes to fyghte. For some are harmeles, as doois and haaris. But they that are the moste fierse of all, as lyons, wolfes, and tygers: doo not make warre amonge theym selfe as we doo. One dogge eatethe not an nother. The lyons, thoughe they be fierce and cruelle, yet they fyghte not amonge theym selfe.

The adage was extremely well known, and in the early eighteenth century we see the sentiment flipped and applied to humans. For example, the 27 March 1735 issue of the Grub-Street Journal, the 1730s London equivalent of The Onion today, makes it into a joke about lawyers:

Yesterday a noted solicitor was committed to Newgate, for robbing a fellow solicitor of a promissory note, value 10 1. DP.——What! dog eat dog!

A few decades later, a U.S. paper does the same. This headline appears the Pittsburgh Gazette of 5 November 1816:

DOG EAT DOG
Or, a Law Suit About Nothing
DUANE vs. BINNS,
For defamation of character.

And a few years before that, the phrase appears in an essay touting a mercantilist U.S. trade policy in the Examiner of 5 December 1813, taking it out of the world of lawyer jokes:

All the trade and commerce we are to have is among one another: if any body makes money, he must make it, not by his enterprise in foreign commerce, but out of his own countrymen. “Dog eat dog,” is now our commercial motto and practice; no duties being collectable from foreign commerce, it is very clear, that all the money wanted by government must be produced by taxes.

I leave it up to the reader to draw any conclusions about how the ethos of today’s capitalist society differs from that of ages past.

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Sources:

“Dog Eat Dog.” Pittsburgh Gazette, 5 November 1816, 3. ProQuest.

“Domestic News.” The Grub-Street Journal (London), no. 274, 27 March 1735, 2. ProQuest

Erasmus. Bellum Erasmi. London: Thomas Berthelet, 1533, 8r. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, November 2010, s.v. dog, n.1.

“Taxes.” Examiner, vol. 1, no. 6, 5 December 1813. ProQuest.