resile

Late sixteenth-century, posthumous portrait of Stephen Gardiner, the first person known to have used resile in English

1 December 2021

Resile is a verb that is rarely used in the United States, but it can be found in other English-speaking countries, usually in political or legal contexts. It is a borrowing from the Latin resilire, which in classical Latin means to literally jump back, withdraw, or recoil. But in medieval Latin, the verb was also used metaphorically to mean to repudiate. English use was also undoubtedly influenced by the Middle French resiler, which appears about the same time.

Resile’s first known use is in a 1529 letter from Stephen Gardiner, an English politician instrumental in obtaining Henry VIII’s divorce from Catherine of Aragon, to Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, Archbishop of York and Lord High Chancellor of England. In the letter, Gardiner says that the queen should not be allowed to go back on what she had previously agreed to in the annulment settlement:  

Trusting that Your Grace hath in all circumstances soe pro[ceeded], as if the Quene wold herafter resile and goo b[ack from] that, she semeth nowe to be contented with, it should [not be] in her power soo to doo.

The annulment of the marriage would take several more years and a break from the Roman Catholic Church to complete.

Why the word is largely absent from the US vocabulary but found in most other English-speaking countries is unknown. Given that it is usually found in political or legal contexts, it may be due to its use in the Westminster parliamentary system for such actions as the withdrawal of motions and bills. The British political vocabulary would transfer to other countries that use the system, while the United States, with an entirely different constitutional system, would be more resistant to adopting such terms.

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Sources:

Davies, Mark. Corpus of News on the Web (NOW).

Dictionary of Medieval Latin from British Sources, Oxford University Press, 2013, s.v. resilire. Brepols: Database of Latin Dictionaries.

Letter Gardyner to Wolsey (September 1529).  State Papers: King Henry the Eighth, vol. 1 of 6. London: His Majesty’s Commission for State Papers, 1830, 343. HathiTrust Digital Archive. London, British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius B.xii.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, March 2010, modified June 2021, s.v. resile, v.

Image credit: Unknown artist, 1570–99. UK National Trust. Public domain image.

pink / pinkie

Dianthus plumarius, common garden pinks, in the Jibou Botanical Garden Romania. Pink flowers with green stems.

30 November 2021

The smallest finger, and often the smallest toe, is commonly referred to as a pinkie. But the reason for this is not readily apparent. There isn’t a logical connection between the color pink and the smallest digit, but it turns out there is an indirect etymological connection.

Before the name of the color appeared, the word pink could mean a small hole or slit, or to make such a hole. The verb to pink, meaning to cut eyelet holes or slits in a fabric, dates to the late fifteenth century (the modern pinking shears, although they serve a different function, are so named because of this older sense). By the early sixteenth century, the noun pink could mean an eyelet or small hole, and by the middle of the century, pink could mean to wink or blink one’s eyes.

These earlier senses may be echoic, like ping, referring to the sound of cutting or punching holes, or they may be borrowed from the Dutch pincken, to become small, narrow. And the Flemish pink-ooghen means to blink. But the English use is attested earlier than the Dutch, so it’s possible the transmission could have gone the other way. In either case, we don’t know for sure where the word comes from. This use of pink, meaning small, was especially common in Scots, where it can probably still be found in some quarters.

The adjective pink, meaning the color, is a relatively late addition to English, appearing in the mid seventeenth century. The color takes its name from the flowers of the genus Dianthus, and in particular from Dianthus plumarius, commonly known as the pink. The name of the flower appears in English by the mid sixteenth century. From William Painter’s 1566 The Palace of Pleasure:

May it not be broughte to passe, that I may smell, that swete breath which respireth through thy delicate mouthe, béeing none other thing, than Baulme, Muske, and Aumbre, yea and that which is more precious, which for the raritie and valor hath no name euen as I doe smell the Roses. Pincks and Uiolets hanging ouer my head, franckly offering themselues into my handes?

How the pink got its name is not known for certain, but it may be related to an older use of pink to mean small or narrow (see below). In French, a number of flowers, notably the carnation, are dubbed oeillet, literally eyelet, a reference to the center of the bloom which can resemble an eye. It may be that the English pink was influenced by this analogous word in French. Originally dubbed pink because of its small “eye,” the word came to refer to the flower’s color.

And the color pink is so named a few decades later. There is this description of a “gentleman” in John Marston’s 1607 play What You Will:

He eates well and right slouenly, and when the dice fauor him goes in good cloathes, and scowers his pinke collour silk stockings: whe[n] he hath any mony he beares his crownes, whe[n] he hath none I carry his purse, he cheates well, sweares better, but swaggers in a wantons Chamber admirably.

And the noun designating the color can be found in James Howard’s play The English Monsieur, performed as early as 30 July 1663, but not published until 1674:

I came from the Exchange, where I saw a flock of English Ladies buying taudry trim'd Gloves, of the dull English fancy; Pink, Scarlet and Yellow together one chose; another Black, Red and Blew, and Pendants like Hawks Bells, and these Ladies were making themselves fine for a Ball in the City.

That’s how the color got its name, but what about the little fingers and toes?

The adjective pink-eyed, meaning small-eyed, appears in English by 1516 in William Horman’s Vulgaria uiri doctissimi (The Wisest Common Men):

Some haue myghty yies / and some be pynkyied.
Quidam pregandibus [sic] sunt luminibus / quidam peti.

And the verb, in the form of the participle pinking, meaning to narrow or close, appears in John Heywood’s 1544 The Playe Called the Foure PP, where refers to a drunkard’s eyes growing heavy and closing:

Syr after drynkynge whyle the shot is tynkynge
Some hedes be swymmyng but myne wyl be synkynge
And vpon drynkynge myne eyse wyll be pynkynge
For wynkynge to drynkynge is alway lynkynge.

The 1621 Flyting Betwixt Montgomery and Polwart uses pink to refer to a small person. A flyting is a poetic and ritualistic exchange of insults:

On sik as thy sell, little pratling pink
Could thou not wair ink, thy tratling to tell,

(As much as you sell, you little, chattering pink
Could you not expend ink to tell your chatter?)

Finally, we get to pinkie meaning the smallest digit. This first appears in John Jameson’s 1808 Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language. Here is a series of entries for pink-words in that dictionary. Being over two centuries old, the etymologies are not necessarily to be trusted, but the entries do show the variety of uses that pink was put to in the Scottish dialect:

To PINK, v. n. To contract the eye in looking at an object, to glimmer, S[cottish].
Teut. pinck-ooghen, oculos contrahere, et aliquo modo claudere [to contract the eye, and in some manner close it]. E[nglish]. pink is used in a different sense; as properly signifying to wink, to shut the eyes entirely, or in a greater degree than is suggested by pink as used in S. Hence,
PINKIE, adj. A term applied to small eyes, or to one who is accustomed to contract his eyes, S.
            Meg Wallet wi’ her pinky een
            Gar Lawrie’s heart-strings dirle.
                        Ramsay’s Poems, i. 262.
To PINK, v. n. To trickle, to drop; applied to tears, S.B. [Scotia Borealis, north of Scotland]
            And a’ the time the tears ran down her cheek,
            and pinked o’er her chin upon her keek.
                        Ross’s Helenore, p. 29.
This is perhaps merely a metaph. sense of the v. explained above; a tear being said to steal over a woman’s cheek to the lower part of her cap, in allusion to the stolen glance which the eye often takes when it seems to be nearly shut.
PINKIE, s. The little finger; a term mostly used by children, or in talking to them, Loth[ian]. Belg[ic]. pink, id. pinck, digitus minimus [smallest finger], Kilian.
PINKIE, s. The weakest kind of beer brewed for the table, S. perhaps from pink, as expressing the general idea of smallness.
PINKIE, s. The smallest candle that is made, S. O.Teut. pincke, id. cubicularis lucerna simplex [simple bedroom lamp]; also, a glow-worm.

While it was originally Scots and Scottish English, pinkie, referring to the smallest digit, is now quite widespread. It was brought to North America by either Dutch or Scottish immigrants, or perhaps both. The Dictionary of American Regional English does not indicate that it is especially common in any particular region of the United States but is found throughout.

So that’s it. Pink originally meant small or narrow, possibly echoic or borrowed from Dutch. And from there it expanded in meaning to refer to the color, the flower, and the smallest fingers and toes.

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Sources:

Dictionary of American Regional English (DARE), 2013, s.v. pinkie, n.2.

The Flyting Betwixt Montgomery and Polwart. Edinburgh: Andro Hart, 1621, sig. A3. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Heywood, John. The Playe Called the Foure PP: A Newe and a Very Mery Enterlude of a Palmer, a Pardoner, a Potycary, a Pedlar. London: 1544, unnumbered 6r. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Horman, William. Vulgaria uiri doctissimi. London: Richard Pynson, 1516, 30v. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Howard, James. The English Monsieur. London: H. Bruges for J. Magnus, 1974, 2.1, 11. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, June 2006, modified September 2021, s.v. pink, n.4, pink, n.5 and adj.2; modified June 2021, s.v. pink, v.1; pink, v.2; modified December 2020, s.v. pink-eyed, adj.1, pink, n.6, pinkie, adj. and n.1.

Painter, William. “The 44th Nouell: Alerane and Adelasia.” The Palace of Pleasure, vol. 1 of 2. London: Henry Denham for Richard Tottell and William Jones, 1566, fol. 210r–v. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Jameson, John. Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language, vol. 2 of 2. Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 1808. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Marston, John. What You Will. London: G. Eld. for Thomas Thorpe, 1607, 3.1, sig. E4v.

Scottish National Dictionary, 2005, s.v. pinkie, n., pink, pink(e, n.1, pink, n.3. Dictionaries of the Scots Language / Dictionars o the Scots Leid.

Image credit: Dianthus plumarius, Krzysztof Ziarnek, 2018, used under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.

spam

Two cans of Spam meat product

29 November 2021

The brand name Spam, used for canned meat product made by the Hormel Corporation, is probably a blend of spiced + ham. It went on the market in 1937, as can be seen in this notice published by the US Patent Office:

Ser. No. 394,133. GEO. A. HORMEL & COMPANY, Austin, Minn. Filed June 16, 1937
SPAM
For Canned Meats—Namely, Spiced Ham.
Claims use since May 11, 1937.

And in this advertisement in the Minneapolis Tribune of 25 June 1937:

SPAM
Hormel Spiced Luncheon Meat.
Cooked Ready to Serve, 12 oz. tin.
EA. 29c

And Hormel’s annual report for 1937 concludes with the following plug for its newest product:

An interesting new product of Geo. A. Hormel & Co. is SPAM. Stockholders are urged to ask for SPAM. They are urged to have a breakfast of SPAM and eggs, or a SPAMWICH at noon lunch, or Baked SPAM for supper. One of a long line of Hormel innovations. It is copyrighted. Only Hormel can produce SPAM. It is packed in 12 oz. cans.

The explanation of spiced + ham is a bit contentious though. While the evidence from the quotations given above point to it being correct, some contend that since the primary ingredient isn’t ham, but rather pork shoulder, that blend isn’t the real origin. But then, such distinctions have never gotten in the way of marketing, so the spiced + ham origin remains the most likely explanation. The Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink In America cites “company sources” as giving an alternative, acronymic explanation of Shoulder of Pork And Ham, but this sounds like a post-hoc rationalization of the term.

But spam is more than just a meat product. It’s slang for mass posting or sending of internet messages and email, especially commercial advertisements, without regard to their appropriateness for the specific forum or venue. This sense of spam was created in homage to a Monty Python sketch about a café that serves nothing but Spam and patronized by a group of Vikings who interrupt conversations with paeans to Spam that largely consist of the product’s name repeated again and again. The sketch first aired on the BBC on 15 December 1970:

Cut to a café. All the customers are Vikings. Mr and Mrs Bun enter—downwards (on wires).

Mr Bun (ERIC) Morning.

Waitress (TERRY J) Morning.

Mr Bun What have you got then?

Waitress Well there’s egg and bacon; egg sausage and bacon; egg and spam; egg, bacon and spam; egg, bacon, sausage and spam; spam, bacon, sausage, and spam; spam, egg, spam, spam, bacon and spam; spam, spam, spam, egg and spam; spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans, spam, spam, spam and spam; or lobster thermidor aux crevettes with a mornay sauce garnished with truffle pâté, brandy and a fried egg on top and spam.

Mrs Bun (GRAHAM) Have you got anything without spam in it?

Waitress Well, there’s spam, egg, sausage, and spam. That’s not got much spam in it.

Mrs Bun I don’t want any spam.

Mr Bun Why can’t she have egg, bacon, spam and sausage?

Mrs Bun That’s got spam in it!

Mr Bun Not as much as spam, egg, sausage and spam.

Mrs Bun Look, could I have egg, bacon, spam and sausage without the spam.

Waitress Uuuuuuggggh!

Mrs Bun What do you mean uuugggh! I don’t like spam.

Vikings (singing) Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam...spam, spam, spam, spam...lovely spam, wonderful spam...

But like many slang terms, spam did not have a fixed definition at first. It went through several similar senses before settling on the one that is familiar today. The first known computing use of the term is as a verb. From Eric Raymond’s Jargon File of 16 August 1991:

spam: [from the {MUD} community] vt. To crash a program by overrunning a fixed-size buffer with excessively large input data. 

And there is this definition that appeared in the Los Angeles Times on 30 September 1993:

Spam: Information that might not be legitimate or real, as in "This rumor may have a high Spam content."

And this from Newsday on 7 November 1993:

Spam: Pointless description, excess verbiage. "I got sick of hanging out in the Living Room, Land O' The Spam."

But the event that elevated the sense of unsolicited messages to the fore came in April 1994, when two Arizona lawyers sent an advertisement to thousands of Usenet newsgroups and subsequently attempted to establish an internet advertising agency. From the New York Times of 7 May 1994:

Mr. Canter and Ms. Siegel have been the focus of intense criticism on several computer networks since April 12, when they posted an advertisement offering their legal services on thousands of Usenet bulletin boards, called news groups, without regard for the interests of the specific news groups.

[...]

The act, while not illegal, violated long-held traditions against random placement of any type of messages on news groups. Such scatter-shot messaging is known as “spamming.”

Some say the internet went downhill from that point on.

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Sources:

Chapman, Graham, et al. “Spam.” Monty Python’s Flying Circus, Second Series, Episode 12, recorded 25 June 1970, aired 15 December 1970. Monty Python’s Flying Circus: All the Words, vol. 2 of 2. New York: Pantheon, 1989, 27.

Doll, Pancho. “A Quiet Revolution: Computer Bulletin Boards Have Captivated the Attention of County Users. Los Angeles Times, Ventura West edition, 30 September 1993, 6. ProQuest.

Financial Report of Geo. A. Hormel & Company. 16 November 1937, 12. ProQuest Annual Reports.

Lewis, Peter H. “Arizona Lawyers Form Company for Internet Advertising.” New York Times, 7 May 1994, 51. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, June 2001, modified June 2020, s.v. spam, v.; second edition, 1989 with draft edition of June 2001, s.v. Spam, n.

“Piggly Wiggly” (Advertisement). Minneapolis Tribune, 25 June 1937, 9. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.

Quittner, Joshua. “Far Out Welcome to Their World Built of MUD.” Newsday, Nassau and Suffolk edition, 7 November 1993, 3. ProQuest.

Raymond, Eric. Jargon File, version 2.9.6, 16 August 1991.

“Spam.” The Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America, second edition. Andrew F. Smith, ed. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2012. Oxfordreference.com.

“Trade-Marks.” Official Gazette of the United States Patent Office, 483.4, 26 October 1937, 750. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Zimmer, Ben. “How a Mystery Meat Became an Inbox Invader.” Wall Street Journal, 26 January 2019, C3. ProQuest Recent Newspapers.

Photo credit: David Wilton, 2021. Licensable under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

smart aleck

23 November 2021

A smart aleck or smart alec is a person who annoyingly expresses their knowledge or intelligence, a person who is too clever by half. While the meaning is well established and clear, the etymology is not. We just don’t know who the original Aleck or Alec was. All we know is that the phrase first appeared in the 1860s and most likely arose in the American West.

The first recorded use of smart aleck that I know of is in the Weekly Butte Record of Oroville, California on 16 May 1863:

“SMART ALECK” IN THE PULPIT.—A story is told of an old minister, who once announced to his hearers that on a following Sabbath he would tell his people what time to trim apple trees. The announcement had the desired effect, drawing out a large congregation. At the close of the service he announced that the time for his hearers to trim apple trees was when their tools were sharp.

There is also an appearance of the phrase in the New York Clipper of 2 January 1864. Of the early uses, this is the only one that does not come out of the American West. It appears in an article critical of the state legislature in Albany for banning the employment of female waiters in concert halls because their presence created an unwholesome atmosphere and how one enterprising man got around the proscription:

Soon after the bursting up of the “upper houses” from the loss of one of their principal attractions, the barmaids, he took it into his head to establish something new, whereby he could laugh in his sleeve at the “smart Alecs” of Albany town, and started a saloon with no other performance than a piano and violin, similar to the German “museke” shops, where female waiters had been tolerated without let or hindrance, so popular among our friends from Bingen-on-the-Rhine, or Rotterdam.

Back in the Western United States, the Nevada Gold Hills Daily of 9 January 1865 has this story about a smart aleck who tried to make fun of two Chinese immigrants and got his comeuppance:

Yesterday afternoon, as a crowd of idlers were standing on the corner of B and Union streets, Virginia, two Chinamen with uncommonly long tails passed by, when a smart chap “from Mud Springs” thought it would be a very fine joke to tie these two Johns together by the tails, and quietly advancing, succeeded in partly effecting his object, when a laugh from the crowd caused one of the twain (not Mark Twain) to turn his head, when he saw what the “smart Aleck” was about. John the larger at once turned right about face, rolled up his sleeves, exposing a pair of well-muscled arms, on which were figures of an anchor engraved in India ink, and at once led off with his left, which took effect on the smart chap’s nose. Smarty came back, but was met with a stinger under his ear, and in about two minutes John had soundly whaled the fellow, to the great delight of the bystanders.

The reference to Mark Twain made me question whether the 1865 date was correct, as Twain had not yet achieved widespread notoriety by this date, but the other dates in the paper confirmed it was correct. It turns out that he was something of a local celebrity at the time this newspaper piece appeared. Samuel Clemens had lived and worked in Nevada from 1861–63 and had first used his pen name while writing there.

Another early Nevada usage is in the Carson Appeal of 17 October 1865. Unfortunately, I do not have access to this issue of the paper, so I do not know the larger context for the usage. All I have is this snippet as it appears in various dictionaries:

Halloa, old smart Aleck—how is the complimentary vote for Ashley?

Turf, Field, and Farm of 17 February 1866 tells of a horse’s groom who was a smart aleck:

Belmont sustained an injury three years ago, from which he never recovered. Having received a slight contusion on the hock, a blundering groom, one of the “smart Aleck” order and a real learned ignoramus, put on a blister which took off hair and hide at once, and came near taking off the horse.

And the Salt Lake City Telegraph of 24 October 1866 uses the phrase to describe a city slicker:

“SMART ALECK.”—A young gentleman of the city, describing affairs in the country, writes that “the cows often act very badly about being milked; sometimes, when you are almost through they kick the milk all over, and you have to go to work and milk them right over again.”

Finally, there is this use from Nevada’s Carson Daily Appeal of 14 December 1867, an issue of that paper that has been digitized:

Because the plastering, overhead, in the Ormsby House bar-room fell off in a big patch on Thursday night, we don’t understand why the smart Alecs around town should grin and snicker and talk, in a knowing way, about two newly married couple [sic] having been among the guests at that excellent hotel on the night in question. It is most likely that the plastering was cracked by the heat—from the stove.

The fact that we have no idea of the identity of original smart Aleck has not deterred people from guessing. Some have suggested that the term derives from a character, Dr. Smart-Allick, created by British humorist J.B. Morton. But the term was well-established decades before Morton was even born—so Morton took his character’s name from the term, not vice versa.

Another guess was made by Gerald Cohen in a 1985 article in Studies in Slang. Cohen traces the origin to an 1840s New York City thief and confidence man named Aleck Hoag and hypothesizes that it was police who dubbed him “Smart Aleck,” because he was too clever by half. In the article, Cohen outlines Hoag’s criminal career in detail, but the article provides no evidence linking Hoag to the phrase, only conjecture. There is no more reason for thinking Hoag is the phrase’s inspiration than there is for anyone else of that name.

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Sources:

American Heritage Dictionary, fifth edition, 2020, s.v. smart aleck, n.

“At the Wrong End.” Gold Hill Daily News (Nevada), 9 January 1865, 3. Newspapers.com.

“Broadway Below the Sidewalk: Pretty Waiter Girls and Underground Concert Halls.” New York Clipper, 2 January 1864, 300. Illinois Digital Newspaper Collections.

Cohen, Gerald Leonard. “Origin of Smart Aleck.” Studies in Slang, vol. 1. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1985, 85–105.

“Cosmo-Belmont.” Turf, Field, and Farm, 17 February 1866, 104. ProQuest Magazines.

Goranson, Stephen. “‘smart Alecs’ 1864 antedating.” ADS-L, 1 January 2020.

Green’s Dictionary of Slang, 2021, s.v. smart aleck, n.

Merriam-Webster.com, 2021, s.v. smart aleck, n.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, March 2013, modified December 2020, s.v. smart alec, n. and adj.

“Smart Aleck.” Salt Lake City Telegraph, 24 October 1866, 2. Gale Primary Sources: Nineteenth Century U.S. Newspapers.

“Smart Aleck in the Pulpit.” Weekly Butte Record (Oroville, California), 16 May 1863, 4. Library of Congress: Chronicling America, Historic American Newspapers.

“What of It?” Carson Daily Appeal (Carson City, Nevada), 14 December 1867, 3. Newspapers.com.

Image credit: Egos, 2020. imgflip.com.

son of a gun

Advertisement for the 1919 film The Son of a Gun, starring Gilbert M. “Broncho Billy” Anderson. Movie poster with two photos: one of Gilbert Anderson in faux-western dress, and the other of a man with a gun leaning over the body of a dead man (Anderson?), while a woman kneels beside the body looking concerned.

22 November 2021

The epithet son of a gun is a euphemism for son of a whore or son of a bitch. It first appears in print in the opening years of the eighteenth century. There is this dialogue from the Observator of 27–31 January 1705 in which one interlocutor uses the phrase son of a whore, and the second euphemizes it to son of a gun:

Country-m[an]. Why can’t you let me Jest, you may talk in Earnest your self if you please; I was at a Coffee-House t’other Day, and there a Man was saying, that the Country-man, meaning my own Dear self, was become the Observators Jester; Aye says another, he’s the Observators Terræ Filius. What’s the meaning of that Cramp Name?

Obs[ervator]. A TerræFilius, is the University Merry-Andrew, the Fool in the Play, but the Genuine Signification of the Word is Son of a Whore.

Country-m. Did his Worship mean so? He’s a Son of a Gun for his Pains; and had I understood his Gibberish, I should have Rub’d down his Calves-hide for his Sauciness.

Why gun was chosen as the substitute for the offending word is unknown. It is probably just an arbitrary choice. But in this early use in the British Apollo of 7–9 July 1708, gun was chosen, at least in part, for the rhyme:

You Apollo’s Son,
You’r a Son of a Gun,
Made up with Bamboosle,
You directly I’le puzzel.
Pray how many Feet has a Louse.
Have recourse to your Head;
For there they were Bred;
You may look any where,
I believe they are there;
Let me have no shuffling Excuse.

There is this from the 1727 play La Parodia del Pastor Fido, a play that was performed in London in both Italian and in English. This passage is from a scene in which the characters are about to enter a cave in which Mirtello and his lover Amarilli are hiding. Mirtillo says:

Do not make so much Noise,
Mister Son of a Gun,
That here’s nothing mislaid.

The Italian version of the play reads fío d’una ditta, which literally means son of a business firm. Not being conversant in eighteenth-century Italian idiom, my best guess is that this is an idiom meaning son of a whore, as ditta is a feminine noun meaning firm or enterprise, in other words, a woman engaged in trade of a sort.

And this from Nicolas Babble’s 1757 edition of The Prater:

Before I turned the corner of the street I lodge in, I was overtaken by two rascally barbers boys, who jammed me between them, and besmeared me with powder; and while I was endeavoring to brush it off, a son of a gun of chimney sweeper covered one side of my coat with soot.

And this from John Dunton’s 1762 The Life, Travels, and Adventures of Christopher Wagstaff, Gentleman, in which the writer proposes that different classes and types of people be referred to as breeds of dog, such as “women’s men” and fops as lap-dogs, soldiers and sailors as bull-dogs, and lawyers as blood-hounds, thus confirming that in this case, at least, gun is a euphemism for bitch:

I will not needlessly detain the judicious reader with enumerating the many obvious uses and conveniences of such an arrangement as this; but will only add, that among the many considerable advantages this would not be the smallest—that hereby the use of sundry names and appellations, of which some are ridiculous, and others are at least equally odious, and at the same time of not one half the significance and pertinency as these dog-names, would for the future be happily superseded—such as sc--nd--l, v-ll--n, son of a wh-re, son of a gun, and son of a tin-tan-tinderbox. Upon the whole, it appears we cannot call names with any tolerable propriety and discretion but by some such method as that offered in this dissertation; and by consequence, it may follow that, whatever he may be besides, every mother’s son among us is a son of a b-tch.

Sometimes a false legend of a term’s origins has been around for years and writings and citations can be found, some quite old, that seem to bear out the legendary origin. Such is the case with the myth of a nautical origin of the phrase son of a gun. The nautical explanation is that in the age of sail, women—wives, mistresses, and sex workers—were frequently on-board ship when in port or sailing in home waters and occasionally children would be born aboard ship. Common sailors slept on the gun deck and when on board, their wives and mistresses would sleep there too. If a child was born on board, it would likely be born on the gun deck. If male, such a child was referred to as a son of a gun. But this explanation only dates back to the mid-19th century, well after son of a gun was in common use. Admiral William Henry Smyth wrote the following in his 1867 book, the Sailor’s Word-book, one of the primary sources for data on 19th century nautical lingo:

SON OF A GUN. An epithet conveying contempt in a slight degree, and originally applied to boys born afloat, when women were permitted to accompany their husbands to sea; one admiral declared he literally was thus cradled, under the breast of a gun-carriage.

It’s a neat story, but unfortunately, it’s not true. As we have seen, son of a gun is just a euphemism, nothing more.

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Sources:

Babble, Nicholas. The Prater, second edition. London: T. Lownds, 1757, 105. Eighteenth Century Collections Online (ECCO).

The British Apollo, or Curious Amusements for the Ingenious. No. 43, 7–9 July 1708, 5. Gale Primary Sources: Burney Newspapers Collection.

Dunton, John. The Life, Travels, and Adventures of Christopher Wagstaff, Gentleman, vol. 1, London: J. Hinxman, 1762, 117–18. Eighteenth Century Collections Online (ECCO).

Observator, 3.83, 27–31 January 1705, 1. Seventeenth and Eighteenth Century Burney Newspapers Collection.

Oxford English Dictionary, second edition, 1989, s.v. gun, n.

La Parodia del Pastor Fido: A Comick Opera. London: T. King, 1727, 38–39. Eighteenth Century Collections Online (ECCO).

Smyth, William Henry. The Sailor’s Word-Book. London: 1867, 638. Algrove Publishing—Classic Reprint Series, 2004.

Image credit: Gold West Photoplay Company and William Sherry Service, 1919. Public domain image.

Thanks to Elisa Brilli for assistance in the Italian translation.