man / woman / wife

Detail of the Lindisfarne Gospels, Luke 2:23, showing the Old English interlinear gloss of the Latin text; being a Northumbrian text, it uses the mon form

Detail of the Lindisfarne Gospels, Luke 2:23, showing the Old English interlinear gloss of the Latin text; being a Northumbrian text, it uses the mon form

3 May 2021

There were three basic Old English words for male and female humans, man, wer, and wif. And from these came two compounds also meaning man and woman, wæpman and wifman. Other Old English words for man and woman existed, many of them found chiefly in poetry, but etymologically it makes sense to group together the discussion of these five words. First, let’s take on man.

In Old English, one finds the forms man and mon. Of the two, mon would appear to be the older form and more common in the Mercian and Northumbrian dialects, with man arising in the West Saxon dialect. But since the majority of surviving texts are West Saxon, the man form is more common in the corpus. And since West Saxon was the dialect spoken in the region encompassing London and recorded in later court documents as the kings of Wessex came to rule all of England, man would become the standard form in Middle English and later. Although one can still see mon in Middle English texts from the Midlands.

In Old English, the word man could refer to both any person regardless sex or gender or to a male human. And, while the generic use of man is rightly discouraged in Present-Day English for being sexist, it can still be commonly seen, as in the word mankind. We can see this move toward non-sexist language in the phrase from the original 1966 Star Trek series, where no man has gone before, which was changed in the 1987 Star Trek: The Next Generation series to where no one has gone before.

(Indo-European languages consider sex and gender to be binary: male and female. While they may have terms that are sex- and gender-neutral that can refer to both male and female humans, they do not typically have terms for sexes and genders other than the binary male and female. Note: I’m not talking about grammatical gender here; that is a very different thing. Many Indo-European languages also have a neuter grammatical gender.)

As examples of these two uses of man, here are two passages from the same writer, Ælfric of Eynsham, a monk and homilist writing c.1000 C.E., and who was, perhaps, the chief prose stylist of the Old English period. The first, which uses man to refer to a generic human, is from Ælfric’s homily for the Feast of the Chair of St. Peter. In this passage, Peter is defending his association with and conversion of gentiles.

Gif god him forgeaf þæs halgan gastes gife, swa swa us on frymþe on fyrenum gereordum, hwæt eom ic manna þæt ic mihte god forbeodan?

(If God gave them the gift of the Holy Ghost, just as to us at the beginning in fiery tongues, what manner of man am I that I might forbid God?)

That manuscript, London, British Library, Cotton MS Julius E.vii is from the early eleventh century. One later manuscript, the twelfth-century Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 343 uses the spelling monna. This manuscript is from the West Midlands or possibly the Hereford region and is an example of a later survival of that form in a Midlands dialect.

But in another homily about the cross-dressing Saint Eugenia, Ælfric uses man to refer specifically to a male human. Eugenia successfully took on the guise of a man in order to become a monk and eventually an abbot before being martyred. In this passage from early in her life, the bishop Helenus sees through her disguise, but he baptizes her and tells her to continue on her path. Again, this is from the early eleventh-century manuscript:

He genam hi þa onsundron and sæde hyre gewislice hwæt heo man ne wæs and hwylcere mægþe and þæt heo þurh mægð[-] had mycclum gelicode þam heofonlican cynige þe heo gecoren hæfde and cwæð þæt heo sceolde swiðlice æhtnyssa for mægðhade ðrowian and þeah beon gescyld þurh þone soðan drihten þe gescylt his gecorenan.

(Then he took her aside and said to her with certainty how she was no man and of which people [she was] and she through the virginity that she had chosen had greatly pleased the heavenly king and said that she would greatly suffer persecutions for her virginity and yet be shielded through the true Lord who shields his chosen ones.)

These two senses of man come down to us today pretty much unchanged.

The words wer and wif, specifically denoting male and female humans, can be seen in the poem Beowulf. Here the hall Heorot is being prepared for the celebrations following Beowulf’s killing of Grendel:

Ða wæs haten hreþe     Heort innanweard
folmum gefrætwod;     fela þæra wæs,
wera ond wifa     þe þæt winreced,
gestsele gyredon.

(Then, by command, the interior of Heorot was quickly decorated by hand; there were many men and women who prepared the guest-hall.)

Wer survives today only in fossilized form, such as in the word werewolf (literally, man-wolf). But in addition to denoting a female human, wif could also denote the spouse of a man, a wife. That sense is the chief sense of the word in Present-Day English.

And there are two compounds based on man, wæpman and wifman. The first has disappeared from the language, but wifman survives today as woman.

Wæpman literally meant man with a weapon. It might refer to a warrior, but weapon here is more likely a reference to a penis. Just as weapon can be used in present-day slang to mean penis, so it could a thousand years ago. We have this from a mid tenth-century Latin-English glossary:

Genitalia, þa cennendlican.
Uirilia, þa werlican.
Ueretrum, teors.
Calamus, teors, þæt wæpen, uel lim.
Testiculi, beallucas.

(Genitalia, the genitals.
Uirilia, the masculine.
Ueretrum, tarse [i.e., penis].
Calamus, tarse, that weapon or limb.
Testiculi, bollocks.)

And we also see wæpman being specifically to refer to a man in relation to penetrative sex. A tenth-century Old English interlinear gloss to the Lindisfarne Gospels has this for Luke 2.23:

sicut scribtum est in lege Domini, Quia omne masculinum adaperiens vulvam sanctem Domino vocabitur

sua auritten is in æ Drihtnes þæte eghuelc he oððe weepenmon to untynes hrif oððe wom oððe inna halig Drihten bið geceiged

(As it is written in the law of the Lord, that every he or wæpman who opens a vulva or womb or uterus will be called holy by the Lord.)

And we see wæpman and wifman side by side in a late tenth-century translation of the Deuteronomy 22.5, in a passage that neither the aforementioned Eugenia nor Helenus appears to have read:

Ne scryde nan wif hig mid wæpmannes reafe, ne wæpman mid wifmannes reafe.

(No woman should clothe herself with a wæpman’s garments, nor a wæpman with a woman’s garments.)

Wifman started losing the < f > toward the end of the Old English period. From another biblical translation, this one of Judges 4:22 found in a late eleventh-century manuscript. Here Jahel, the woman in question, has just killed Sisara by hammering a nail through his temple:

Barac com sona, sohte þone Sisara; wolde hine ofslean. Ða clipode seo wimman cuðlice him to; het hine sceawian þone þe he sohte; & he geseah þa hwar Sisara læg, & se teldsticca sticode þurh his heafod.

(Barac came at once, seeking after Sisara; he wished to kill him. Then the woman called clearly to him that she would show him whom he sought; and he saw where Sisara lay, and the tent-peg stuck through his head.)

The vowel shift and spelling to woman happened in Middle English.

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Sources:

Ælfric. “Kalendas Martias. Cathedra Sancti Petri” (“22 February. The Chair of Saint Peter”) and “Eodem die natale Sancte Eugenie Uirginis” (“25 December. Saint Eugenia, Virgin”). Ælfric’s Lives of Saints, vol. 1 of 3. Walter Skeat, ed. Early English Text Society O.S. 76. London: Oxford UP, 1881, 232, 28–30. HathiTrust Digital Archive. London, British Library, MS Cotton Julius E.vii.

Deuteronomy 22.5 and Judges 4:22. S. J. Crawford. The Old English Version of the Heptateuch. Early English Text Society O.S. 160. London: Oxford UP, 1922, 355 and 405. London, British Library, Cotton MS Claudius B.iv and Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Laud Misc. 509.

Fulk, R. D., Robert E. Bjork, and John D. Niles. Klaeber’s Beowulf, fourth edition. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 2008, lines 991–94a.

Luke 2:23. The Lindisfarne and Rushworth Gospels, vol. 3. Publications of the Surtees Society 43. Durham: Andrews and Co., 1834, 17. London, British Library, Cotton MS Nero D.iv, fol. 144r.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, March 2021, s.v. man, n.1 (and int.); March 2021, s.v. wife, n., woman, n.; second edition, 1989, were, n.1., wapman, n.

Wright, Thomas. Anglo-Saxon and Old English Vocabularies, vol 1, second ed. Richard Paul Wülcker, ed. London: Trübner and Co., 1884, 265. HathiTrust Digital Archive. London, British Library, Cotton MS Cleopatra A.iii.

Image credit: London, British Library, Cotton MS Nero D.iv, fol. 144r.

Louisiana

Facsimile of a 1684 map of Louisiane (Louisiana) made by Jean-Baptiste-Louis Franquelin, who accompanied Cavelier’s expedition. The facsimile dates to c.1900; the original has been lost.

Facsimile of a 1684 map of Louisiane (Louisiana) made by Jean-Baptiste-Louis Franquelin, who accompanied Cavelier’s expedition. The facsimile dates to c.1900; the original has been lost.

30 April 2021

Louisiana was named in 1682 after King Louis XIV of France by René-Robert Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle. The claim to the territory was exchanged among European states several times, and it was eventually sold by Napoleon to the United States in 1803 for $16 million (around $375 million in today’s dollars). Louisiana, or Louisiane in French, originally encompassed an area much larger than the present-day state. The territory, at the time of the sale to the United States, included what are now the states of Arkansas, Missouri, Iowa, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Nebraska; most of what are now Louisiana, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, and Minnesota; and portions of what are now Texas, New Mexico, Alberta, and Saskatchewan.

Obviously, there is no single, indigenous name for this wide territory, and even within the borders of the present-day state, there were a number of indigenous tribes and bands who made it their home. Currently, there are four federally recognized tribes in the state of Louisiana: the Chitimacha Tribe of Louisiana, the Coushatta Tribe of Louisiana, the Jena Band of Choctaw Indians, and the Tunica-Biloxi Tribe of Louisiana. The Chitimacha are the only tribe in the state still occupying a portion of their original lands.

While there is no single indigenous name for the territory now occupied by the state of Louisiana, there are any number of indigenous toponyms for places within the state. For example, in the Tunica language New Orleans is called tonrɔwahal'ukini, literally white man’s town, from oni (person) + rɔwa (white) + hali (land) + uki (to dwell).

The name Louisiana appears in English by 1693, using the French spelling. From Bohun and Barnard’s Geographical Dictionary of that year:

Louisiane, a large Country South West of New France in America, lately discovered by the French as far as to the Mouth of the River Colbert, in the South Sea, and so called in honour of their present King Lewis XIV. They report it to enjoy a very fruitful Clime for Wine, Corn, Fruits, Fish, and Fowl.

The familiar English spelling appears the following year in a theological text by Humphry Hody:

The Inhabitants of Louisiana, another Country in the Northern America, lately discover'd by the French, seem to hold, That the Soul after Death shall be re-united to its Body.

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Sources:

Bohun, Edmund and J.A. Bernard. A Geographical Dictionary. London: Charles Brome, 1693, 238. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Everett-Heath, John. Concise Oxford Dictionary of World Place Names, sixth ed. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2020. Oxfordreference.com.

Hody, Humphrey. The Resurrection of the (Same) Body. London: Awnsham and John Churchill, 1694, 46. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Tunica-Biloxi Tribe of Louisiana. Tunica-English Dictionary, 2020.

Image credit: Library of Congress. Public domain image.

martini

A classic martini of Tanqueray gin, Noilly Prat dry vermouth, and two queen olives

A classic martini of Tanqueray gin, Noilly Prat dry vermouth, and two queen olives

29 April 2021

A classic martini is a cocktail: consisting of gin and dry vermouth, garnished with an olive—or for a dry martini skip the vermouth or just uncap the bottle and wave it over the glass, letting some of the fumes deposit on the surface of the gin. One can, if one must, substitute vodka for gin.

The original name for the drink, however, is the Martinez, and the concoction was different from the drink we cherish today. The name first appears in O. H. Byron’s 1884 The Modern Bartender’s Guide:

Manhattan Cocktail, No. 1.

(A small wine-glass.)

1 pony French vermouth.
½ pony whisky.
3 or 4 dashes Angostura bitters.
3 dashes gum syrup.

Manhattan Cocktail, No. 2.

2 dashes Curacoa.
2 " Angostura bitters.
½ wine-glass whisky.
½ " Italian vermouth.
Fine ice; stir well and strain into a cocktail glass.

Martinez Cocktail.

Same as Manhattan, only you substitute gin for whisky.

And the name apparently comes from the town of Martinez, California, located on the Carquinez Strait that connects the Sacramento River to the San Pablo and San Francisco Bays, and as best we can tell the drink was invented there in the 1860s. The shortening to martini is probably due to the familiarity of and association of the drink with Martini and Rossi-brand vermouth. The manufacturers of Martini and Rossi filed for a U. S. trademark in 1882, but their vermouth was available in the United States, and specifically in San Francisco, in 1881, if not earlier, under the name of the parent company, Martini and Sola.

The clipped form martini is in place by 1887, when it appears in the pages of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle on 30 June. The article is about a meeting of the Wheelmen’s Club, a bicycling club with a significant social dimension:

I am imformed [sic] that the concentrated and sustained wisdom of the entire entertainment committee exhausted itself in one grand effort. Its culmination, the magnificent, costly and unique bauble concealed within this uncouth wrapping. Search if you will, the blazing corruscations of Tiffany’s; wander amazed through the art galleries of the metropolis; aye, even sample the bewildering depths of the “Martini cocktail,” and you will find nothing that can compare with, meet or equal the elegant tribute that is now about to be bestowed upon you. Take it, my brother, treasure it as a memento of a pleasing hour in your existence and when you shall have fallen from your vigorous manhood and push with faltering feet the worn and broken pedals of life’s tandem may the brake of eternity’s tightening grip upon your lagging wheels bring sharply to your failing memory, bright and clear in the happy halo of the past, the days of fraternal companionship and joy in the old Long Island Wheelmen.

On 22 August 1965, the Oakland Tribune published an article on the history of the martini, which included a third-hand account of its invention. The story is plausible in that it conforms to all we definitely know about the invention of the drink, but the accuracy of the details is unknowable:

Here are the facts given her by former Fire Chief John M. “Toddy” Briones, now a vigorous 91 years of age and also a resident of Martinez.

“The martini cocktail, composed of two-thirds gin, one-third vermouth, a few drops of orange bitters and a green olive, was the invention of Toddy’s brother-in-law, Julio Richelieu, at his bar on Ferry Street in Martinez very nearly 100 years ago.

Richelieu, a young Frenchman who came to Contra Costa via New Orleans, afterwards married Toddy Briones older sister, Belinda. He told Toddy exactly how the Martini was born and how it got its real name.

A miner, en route to San Francisco on horseback, stopped at Richelieu’s bar on Ferry Street located on the site of present day Amato’s Sport Club.

“He asked for a bottle of whiskey, laying a Durham tobacco sack of gold nuggets on the bar near the gold weigh-in scale.” Mrs. Ritch quotes Toddy Briones.

“In those days Richelieu dispensed Jesse Moore whiskey from a barrel only, serving customers by the shot glass. If a man wanted a bottle to take out he brought along his own empty bottle or else paid 25 cents for one of Julio’s.

“The minor, who said he was in a big hurry and didn’t have an extra bottle with him, told Richelieu to take an extra small nugget for the container. At the door, with his purchase in hand, he turned and said:

“‘Bartender, don’t you think I ought to get something extra for all that gold?’

“Richelieu agreed and quickly mixed a few ingredients at random, including a green olive.

“‘Try that,’ he advised.

 “The miner, who had watched his every move, tasted the mixture. Smacking his lips, he said, ‘What is this?’

“‘That,’ said Richelieu, ‘is a Martinez cocktail.’

“‘A Martinez? Never heard of it. It’s good.’”

With those words the miner who downed the first cocktail that was to become famous as the martini, walked out of Julio Richelieu’s saloon into obscurity.

Julio Richelieu made many “Martinez” cocktails after that, not only at his Ferry Street place in Martinez, but at two other bars he built and operated in Martinez and at his final place in San Francisco near Lotta’s Fountain on Market Street.

“In Martinez,” the Ritch report continues, “he built a two-story structure on Escobar Street where Nick’s Place now stands, and later a bar at the corner of Thompson Street and Alhambra Avenue, now part of the parking area of the Laird-Lasell complex.

“From Richelieu’s in San Francisco the ‘Martinez’ cocktail spread rather widely. Before the turn of the century it appears on more than one leading hotel menu and on the menu of at least one steamship line.”

Another, less-well-supported version of the invention of the cocktail has Jerry Thomas, who tended bar at the Occidental Hotel in San Francisco in the 1860s, and who is also credited with inventing the Tom and Jerry cocktail, creating the first martinez for a traveler who was on his way across the bay to that town. But there is no good reason to think this version of the origin story is true.

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Sources:

Almanacco Italo-Svizzero Americano. San Francisco: J. F. Fugazi, 1881, 135. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Byron, O. H. The Modern Bartender’s Guide. New York: Excelsior Publishing, 1884, 21. EUVS Vintage Cocktail Books.

“Don’t say Martini, Say ‘Martinez.’” Oakland Tribune, 22 August 1965, 19-CM, 126. Newspaperarchive.com.

“Long Island Wheelmen.” Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 30 June 1887, 2. Brooklyn Public Library.

O’Brien, Robert. This Is San Francisco. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1948, 143–44. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, December 2020, s.v. martini, n.2.

Tamony, Peter. “Martini Cocktail.” Western Folklore, 26.2, April 1967, 124–27. JSTOR.

Photo credit: Ken Johnson, 2006. Used under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.

Maryland / Chesapeake

A 1732 map of delineating the border between Maryland and Pennsylvania and showing the Chesapeake Bay. The map was annexed to an agreement between Charles Calvert, the fifth Lord Baltimore, and the Penn family. The map did not accurately reflect Mar…

A 1732 map of delineating the border between Maryland and Pennsylvania and showing the Chesapeake Bay. The map was annexed to an agreement between Charles Calvert, the fifth Lord Baltimore, and the Penn family. The map did not accurately reflect Maryland’s territorial claims and Calvert reneged on the agreement. The dispute was finally resolved in 1750 in favor of Pennsylvania, and the Mason-Dixon line, subsequently set as the boundary between the colonies, largely accords with this map.

28 April 2021

The state of Maryland is named for Queen Henrietta Maria, the wife of Charles I, who granted the colony’s charter to Cecilius Calvert, the second Baron Baltimore in 1632. Calvert originally suggested the name Crescentia (Land of Growth), but the king suggested Mariana in honor of his wife. Calvert replied that the Jesuit priest Juan de Mariana had written tracts critical of monarchy and providing a justification for tyrannicide (a critique that would turn out to be on point given Charles’s fate in 1649), so Charles ordered the name be styled Terra Mariae in the charter, which was Anglicized to Maryland. The relevant passage in the 1632 charter, which is in Latin, gives both the Latin and English names:

SCIATIS quod NOS de ampliori gratiâ nostrâ certâ scientiâ et mero motu nostris dictam regionem ac insulas in provinciam erigendas esse duximus prout eas ex plenitudine potestatis et prærogativæ nostræ regiæ pro nobis hæredibus et successoribus nostris in provinciam erigimus et incorporamus eamque Terram Mariæ Anglicè MARYLAND nominamus et sic in futuro nominari volumus.

(KNOW YOU, that WE, of our more ample grace, certain knowledge, and pure motive, have ordered that the said region and islands be constituted as a province, as out of the fullness of our royal power and prerogative, we do, for us, our heirs, and our successors, constitute and incorporate the same into a province, and name it Terram Mariæ, in English MARYLAND, and we wish it to be called thus henceforth.)

It is often claimed that the name is a reference to the Virgin Mary because the colony was intended to be haven for Roman Catholics and other non-Anglicans, although this did not always work out so well in practice. While some may have understood the name to have religious significance, that was not the intent of either Charles or Calvert in so naming it.

The indigenous population of what is now Maryland was largely Algonquin, of which there are many tribes and dialects, but also included Iroquois and Siouan bands. As such, there is no single native name for the region the state now encompasses. But the geographic feature that dominates the state is the Chesapeake Bay, and that name comes from the Algonquian Chesepiook (meaning something like Great Water). The claim that it is from the Delaware kitshishwapeak (Great Salty Bay) has been largely discounted by linguists.

Here is an early use of the name from 1606, in the form Chesupioc, published in the collection of travel narratives known as Purchas His Pilgrimes:

The six and twentieth day of Aprill, about foure a clocke in the morning, wee descried the Land of Virginia: the same day wee entred into the Bay of Chesupioc directly, without any let or hinderance; there wee landed and discouered a little way, but wee could find nothing worth the speaking of, but faire meddowes and goodly tall Trees, with such Fresh-waters running through the woods, as I was almost rauished at the first sight thereof.

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Sources:

Andrews, Matthew Page. History of Maryland: Province and State. Garden City: Doubleday, Doran, 1929, 11. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Bright, William. Native American Placenames of the United States. Norman: U of Oklahoma Press, 2004.

“The Charter of the Province of Maryland” (20 June 1632). The Laws of Maryland, vol. 1 of 2, William Kilty, ed. Annapolis: Frederick Green, 1799. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Everett-Heath, John. Concise Oxford Dictionary of World Place Names, sixth ed. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2020. Oxfordreference.com.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, March 2021, s.v. Maryland, n.

Purchas, Samuel. Purchas His Pilgrimes, the fourth part. London: William Stansby, 1625, 1686. Early English Books Online.

Image credit: Unknown cartographer, 1632. University of Pittsburgh. Public domain image.

lynch

A 1936 black-and-white photograph showing a flag flown from an upper-story window of the NAACP headquarters in Manhattan announcing that "a man was lynched yesterday"

A 1936 black-and-white photograph showing a flag flown from an upper-story window of the NAACP headquarters in Manhattan announcing that "a man was lynched yesterday"

27 April 2021

Content note: The history of lynching is that of racialized violence, torture, and death. The topic can be deeply disturbing. I have tried to walk the line between showing the horrific nature of the practice while not gratuitously repeating the more gruesome details. However, if you consult the NAACP sources I list below, you will encounter detailed and horrifying descriptions of the incidents I reference.

Lynching is a form of vigilante or extra-judicial punishment, especially that inflicted on Black people in the American south. Lynching is often taken to be synonymous with execution, especially by hanging, but the term encompasses various forms of torture and means of execution, and in the early days did not necessarily include death. Lynching started as method for enforcing justice in regions of the United States where official judicial authority was weak, but within a few decades it had become a terrorist tactic to enforce white supremacy.

Prior to the Civil War, the majority of recorded lynching victims were white—either because enslaved people were too valuable to indiscriminately execute or because the killing of enslaved people went unrecorded. But the institution of slavery, as we shall see, was deeply implicated in the practice, as many of those whites who were lynched or threatened with lynching prior to the Civil War had abolitionist sentiments. Following the Civil War, and in the overall total, the majority of victims of lynching were Black.

The total number of people who were lynched in the United States varies with the source one consults. The fact that many lynchings were unrecorded, differences in the periods covered by the counts, and the definition of what constitutes a lynching lead to different numbers. But there is general agreement that from the late nineteenth century until the latter half of the twentieth around 5,000 people were lynched, most of them Black. Perhaps the most widely quoted statistic is from the Tuskegee Institute, which counted 4,742 lynchings between 1882 and 1968, 3,455 of whom were Black. More recently, sociologists Charles Seguin and David Rigby counted some 4,467 lynchings between 1883 and 1941, of which 3,265 were Black, 1,082 were white, and 120 were Mexican, Native American, or Asian. Seguin and Rigby also identified three distinct regimes of lynching: a frontier justice regime where judicial authority was weak; a white supremacist regime of lynchings of Black people, mostly in the south; and lynchings of Mexicans and Mexican-Americans along the southern border.

The word lynch originated in the regime of frontier justice. Specifically, it comes from the name of William Lynch (1742–1820), a magistrate in Pittsylvania County, Virginia, who in September 1780 instituted a vigilante regime against those deemed to be criminals. The practice quickly spread to the other newly independent southern states. The word lynch is sometimes ascribed to various other men with that name, but the evidence linking the word to William Lynch is unambiguous.

The earliest known record of the word is from an October 1811 diary entry by surveyor Andrew Ellicott that makes reference to William Lynch:

Captain Lynch just mentioned was the author of the Lynch laws so well-known and so frequently carried into effect some years ago in the southern states in violation of every principle of justice and jurisprudence. Mr. Lynch resided in Pittsylvania in the state of Virginia when he commenced legislator and carried his system into effect:–the detail I had from himself and is nearly as follows.—

The Lynch-men associated for the purpose of punishing crimes in a summary way without the tedious and technical forms of our courts of justice. Upon complaint being made to any member of the association of a crime being committed within the vicinity of their jurisdiction the person complained of was immediately pursued and taken if possible. If apprehended he was carried before some members of the association and examined:–if his answers were not satisfactory he was whipped till they were so. Those extorted answers generally involved others in the supposed crime who in their turn were punished in like manner.–These punishments were sometimes severe and not unfrequently inflicted upon the innocent thro spite or in consequence of answers extorted under the smarting of the whip....

Mr. Lynch informed me that he had never in any case given a vote for the punishment of death some however he acknowledged had been actually hanged tho not in the common way a horse in part became the executioner: the manner was this.—The person who it was supposed ought to suffer death was placed on a horse with his hands tied behind him and a rope about his neck which was fastened to the limb of a tree over his head. In this situation the person was left and when the horse in pursuit of food or any other cause moved from his position the unfortunate person was left suspended by the neck,–this was called aiding the civil authority.—It seems almost incredible that such proceedings should be had in a civilized country governed by known laws it may nevertheless be relied on. I should not have asserted it as a fact had it not been related to me by Mr. Lynch himself, and his neighbour Mr. Lay one of the original association together with several other Lynch-men as they are called. This self created judicial tribunal was first organised in the state of Virginia about the year 1776 from whence it extended southward as before observed.

But it is in the 1830s that the word starts appearing frequently. From William Gilmore Simms’s 1834 Guy Rivers: A Tale of Georgia, one of those early uses that mistakenly credits a different Lynch as the eponym:

"Who are the regulators?" inquired the youth.

“What, you live in Georgia, and never heard tell of the regulators? Well, that's queer, anyhow. But, the regulators are just, simply, you see, our own people; who, every now and then, turn out,—now one set and now another,—and whenever a chap like this same Jared Bunce goes about, living on everybody, and coming Yankee over everybody, they hunt him up and pay off old scores. Sometimes they let him off with a light hand, but then, you see, it altogether happens according to his behaviour. Sometimes they give him Lynch's Law, after old Nick Lynch, who invented it in Virginny, long before your time or mine. Sometimes they ride him upon a rail, and then duck him in the pond. It all depends, you see, upon the humour of the regulators."

It also appears in the widely read 1836 Col. Crockett’s Exploits and Adventures in Texas, a book that was originally credited as an autobiography, but is actually a pseudo-historical account of David Crockett’s life by Richard Penn Smith:

“Sights of this kind,” continued Thimblerig, “are by no means unfrequent. I once saw a gambler, a sort of friend of mine, by-the-way, detected cheating at faro, at a time when the bets were running pretty high. They flogged him almost to death, added the tar and feathers, and placed him aboard a dug-out, a sort of canoe, at twelve at night; and with no other instruments of navigation than a bottle of whisky and a paddle, set him adrift in the Mississippi. He has never been heard of since, and the presumption is, that he either died of his wounds or was run down in the night by a steamer. And this is what we call Lynching in Natchez."

These two accounts are of white people being lynched, but around this time the practice of lynching starts to become associated with maintaining the institution of slavery. For instance, in the 1836 novel The Clockmaker by Nova Scotian politician and humorist Thomas Chandler Halliburton, the character of Sam Slick claims not to support slavery, but says that abolitionists who venture into the southern states, while not deserving lynching—that’s too severe according to him—do deserve to be tortured for interfering in the affairs of others:

The truth is, said the Clockmaker, nothin’ raises my dander more, than to hear English folks and our Eastern citizens atalkin about this subject that they don't onderstand, and have nothin to do with. If such critters will go down South ameddlin’ with things that don't consarn ’em, they desarve what they catch. I don't mean to say I approve of lynchin’, because that's horrid; but when a feller gets himself kicked, or his nose pulled, and larns how the cowskin feels, I don't pity him one morsel. Our folks won't bear tamperin’ with, as you Colonists do; we won't stand no nonsense. The subject is jist a complete snarl; it's all tangled, and twisted, and knotted so, old Nick himself wouldn't onravel it. "What with private rights, public rights, and state rights, feelin’, expediency, and public safety, it’s a considerable of a tough subject. The truth is, I ain't master of it myself. I'm no book man, I never was to college, and my time has been mostly spent in the clock trade and tooth business, and all I know is jist a little I've picked up by the way. The tooth business, said I; what is that? do you mean to say you are a dentist? No, said he, laughing; the tooth business is pickin’ up experience. Whenever a feller is considerable  ’cute with us, we say he has cut his eye teeth, he's tolerable sharp; and the study of this I call the tooth business. Now I ain't able to lay it all down what I think as plain as brother Josiah can, but I have an idea there's a good deal in name, and that slavery is a word that frightens more than it hurts. It's some o’ the branches or grafts of slavery that want cuttin’ off. Take away corporal punishment from the masters and give it to the law, forbid separatin’ families and the right to compel marriage and other connexions, and you leave slavery nothin’ more than sarvitude in name, and somethin’ quite as good in fact.

Every critter must work in this world, and a labourer is a slave; but the labourer only gets enough to live on from day to day, while the slave is tended in infancy, sickness, and old age, and has spare time enough given him to airn a good deal too. A married woman, if you come to that, is a slave, call her what you will wife, woman, angel, termegant, or devil, she’s a slave; and if she happens to get the upper hand, the husband is a slave, and if he don’t lead a worse life than any black n[——]r, when he's under petticoat government, then my name is not Sam Slick. I’m no advocate of slavery, squire, nor are any of our folks: it’s bad for the n[——]rs, worse for the masters, an la cuss to any country; but we have got it, and the question is, what are we to do with it? Let them answer that now,—I don’t pretend to be able to.

In her 1837 Society in America, English social theorist Harriet Martineau connected lynching to slavery, specifically to punishment of abolitionists. She writes of how abstract oratory does little to motivate Americans, but speeches that connect with their lived experience can do so:

Speak to them of what interests them, and they are moved with a word. Speak to those whose children are at school, of the progress and diffusion of knowledge, and they will hang upon the lips of the speaker. Speak to the unsophisticated among them of the case of the slave, and they are ready to brave Lynch-law on his behalf.

She mentions a notorious 1835 lynching of five gamblers in Vicksburg, Mississippi and places it next to the burning to death of a Black man:

The mobbing events of the last few years are celebrated; the abolition riots in New York and Boston; the burning of the Charleston Convent; the bank riots at Baltimore; the burning of the mails at Charleston; the hangings by Lynch-law at Vickesburgh; the burning alive of a man of colour at St. Louis; the subsequent proceedings there towards the students of Marion College; and the abolition riots at Cincinnati. Here is a fearful list!

She records an unsuccessful attempt to lynch abolitionist speakers in Boston in 1835:

They knew that a hand-bill had been circulated on the Exchange, and posted on the City Hall, and throughout the city, the day before, which declared that Thompson, the abolitionist, was to address them; and invited the citizens, under promise of pecuniary reward, to “snake Thompson out, and bring him to the tar-kettle before dark.” The ladies had been warned that they would be killed, “as sure as fate,” if they showed themselves on their own premises that day. [...] They began, as usual, with prayer; the mob shouting “Hurra! here comes Judge Lynch!"

And of abolitionist sentiment in Detroit, she writes:

The society of Detroit is very choice; and, as it has continued so since the old colonial days, through the territorial days, there is every reason to think that it will become, under its new dignities, a more and more desirable place of residence. Some of its inferior society is still very youthful; a gentleman, for instance, saying in the reading-room, in the hearing of one of our party, that, though it did not sound well at a distance, Lynching was the only way to treat Abolitionists: but the most enlightened society is, I believe, equal to any which is to be found in the United States.

In response, the Southern Literary Messenger, in an 1837 review of Martineau’s book, defended lynching as necessary, and not unique to the United States, as frontier justice where judicial authority was weak:

Every anecdote of cruelty which she hears is religiously written down, and honestly believed;—and even the jealous apprehensions of a jaundiced wife, who fears that her husband is no better than he should be, are chronicled with a sad solemnity, which is amusing, as the fruit of slavery. The outrages of the borderers—the frontier law of “regulation,” or “lynching,” which is common to new countries all over the world, are ascribed to slavery.

But with the Civil War and the end of Reconstruction in 1877, the practice of lynching shifted sharply, and Black people overwhelmingly became its victims, as white southerners discovered it was an effective terrorist tactic to maintain their social supremacy. It is not my intent here to produce a detailed history of lynchings in the United States, but here are portions of two 1918 accounts that describe the practice. They are by Walter White, an investigator for the NAACP. White, a Black man who could pass for white and move freely between white and Black communities in the south and who investigated some forty-one lynchings for the organization.

White wrote the following about the lynching of Jim McIllherron on 8 February 1918 in Estill Springs, Tennessee. On that date, McIllherron, a Black man, got into an argument with a number of white men that escalated to violence, and McIllherron shot and killed two of them:

Intense excitement prevailed in the town as news of the shooting spread. In this chaotic state of affairs, no one seemed to know what to do and threats of lynching began to be made. A few of the cooler heads pleaded that the crowd allow the sheriff to handle the entire affair. Knowing of the sheriff’s fear of the Negro, the crowd greeted this suggestion with a derisive shout, and cries of “Lynch the n[——]r” answered this plea. Plans were laid to form posses to catch McIlherron. Word was sent to Sheriff Rose at Winchester, upon receiving which he immediately left for Estill Springs.

Shouts of “Electrocution is too good for the damned n[——]r.” “Let’s burn the black ——” and others of the sort rose thick and fast. Led by its more radical members, the mob soon worked itself into a frenzy; a posse was formed and set out on the manhunt.

McIllherron was caught, tortured, and burned to death by the mob. A Black pastor, G. W. Lych, who had tried to help McIllherron escape was shot and killed as well.

White reported on a series of six lynchings in May 1918 in Brooks and Lowndes Counties in Georgia following the shooting of a white plantation owner:

The first of the mob’s victims to be captured was Will Head, a Negro of the community, who was caught on Friday morning, May 17, at 8:30, near Barney, Georgia; the second was Will Thompson, seized later on the same day. That night both were lynched near Troupeville, about five miles from Valdosta. Members of the mob stated to the investigator that over seven hundred bullets were fired into the bodies of the two men.

A summary of these two incidents giving more details is available at the NAACP website. And the complete articles by White, as well as descriptions of other lynchings, are available from the original sources, listed below, but be warned, the details are gruesome and very disturbing.

Nor is lynching a thing of the past. While it is fortunately far less frequent than it was, lynchings and threats of lynching still occur. The New York Times reported the following on 8 March 2021:

A Missouri man who prosecutors say threatened to lynch a Black congressman the day after the Jan. 6 siege at the U.S. Capitol and a Jewish congressman in 2019 was ordered by a federal judge on Monday to remain in custody.

[...]

Prosecutors said that Mr. Hubert had an extensive history of leveling threats at elected officials and political party employees, the most recent of which came on Jan. 7 when, they say, he left a phone message at Mr. Cleaver’s Independence, Mo., office that contained a racial slur and expletives. Mr. Cleaver, who is from Kansas City, Mo., is Black.

According to a transcript of the message that was detailed by prosecutors, Mr. Hubert said, “How about a noose … around his neck?”

It was not the first time, prosecutors said, that Mr. Hubert had communicated such a lynching threat.

In a May 6, 2019, phone call to Mr. Cohen’s office in Washington, Mr. Hubert told a staff member that he had “a noose with the congressman’s name on it” and planned to “put a noose around his neck and drag him behind his pickup truck,” according to a transcript released by prosecutors.

Mr. Cohen, who is from Memphis, is Jewish.

While incidents of lynching have substantially decreased in number, we are still living with the threat and the legacy of the practice.

Some contend that the word is a reference to an incident in Galway, Ireland in 1493. According to local lore, the mayor of Galway, James Lynch FitzStephen, hanged his own son for murder in that year. Whether or not the incident even took place is a matter of debate, but what is not in question is that this incident is not the origin of the word. There is no evidence linking the word lynch to this Galway incident.

(See picnic for a discussion of the alleged association of picnics with lynching.)

Discuss this post


Sources:

“Editorial: Lynch’s Law.” Southern Literary Messenger, 2.6, May 1836, 389. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Ellicott, Andrew. Diary entry, October 1811. Mathews, Catharine Van Cortlandt. Andrew Ellicott: His Life and Letters. New York: Grafton Press, 1908, 220–22. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Green’s Dictionary of Slang, 2021, s.v. Judge Lynch, n.

Halliburton, Thomas Chandler. The Clockmaker, or The Sayings and Doings of Samuel Slick of Slickville. London: George Routledge and Sons, 1836, 214–16. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Lighter, J. E., ed. Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang, vol. 2 of 2. New York: Random House, 1997, s.v. lynch, v.

Martineau, Harriet. Society in America, vol. 1 of 2. New York: Saunders and Otley, 1837, 99, 120–21, 126, 233–34. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

“Miss Martineau on Slavery.” Southern Literary Messenger, 3.11, November 1837, 648. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Oxford English Dictionary, second edition, 1989, s.v. lynch, v., lynch law, n.

Seguin Charles, and David Rigby. “National Crimes: A New National Data Set of Lynchings in the United States, 1883 to 1941.” Socius: Sociological Research for a Dynamic World, vol. 5, 6 May 2019, 1–9.

Simms, William Gilmore. Guy Rivers: A Tale of Georgia, vol. 1 of 2. New York: Harper Brothers, 1834, 65. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Smith, Richard Penn. Col. Crockett’s Exploits and Adventures in Texas. Philadelphia, T. K. and P. G. Collins, 1836, 103. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Vigdor, Neil. “Man Threatened to Lynch 2 Congressmen, U.S. Says.” New York Times, 8 May 2021.

White, Walter F. “The Burning of Jim McIllherron.” The Crisis, 16.1, May 1918, 18. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

———. “The Word of a Mob.” The Crisis, 16.5, September 1918, 221. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Photo credit: unknown photographer, 1936. Library of Congress. Unknown copyright status. Fair use as an illustration of the topic under discussion.