planet / dwarf planet

A brownish-colored planet covered with craters

True color image of the dwarf planet Pluto, taken by the New Horizons spacecraft, 2015.

6 February 2023

Is Pluto a planet? The debate over that question has been ongoing since 2006, when the International Astronomical Union (IAU) demoted Pluto in its nomenclature scheme, leaving the solar system with only eight IAU-recognized planets. The IAU’s decision was both scientifically and linguistically suspect, as can be seen from an examination of the history of the word planet and the process by which lexicographers come up with definitions—after all, if you want to create a definition of a term, you should go to the professionals.

Our word planet ultimately comes from the Greek πλάνης (planēs), stem πλάνητ- (planēt-), meaning wanderer, a reference to the motion of the those celestial objects relative to the stars. The word came into English via the Anglo-Norman planete (attested in that language from c.1185) and the Latin planeta. While the etymology of the word has never been in doubt, exactly what objects qualify as planets has continually changed over the centuries.

The Latin planeta was known in pre-Conquest England, although it was not fully incorporated into Old English. Ælfric, in his De temporibus anni (Regarding the Seasons of the Year), a text on astronomy written in 992, records:

Seo sunne, & se mona, & æfensteorra, & dægsteorra, & oðre ðry steorran ne sind na fæste on ðam firmamentum, ac habbað heora agenne gang on sundron. Þa seofon sind gehatene Septem planete.

(The sun, the moon, the evening star, the morning star, and three other stars are not fixed in the firmament, but have their own path apart. The seven are called Septem planete.)

The phrase septem planete, here, has Latin inflections, while the rest of the words are English. And note Ælfric and his contemporaries considered the sun and moon to be two of the seven planets; the others being the five planets visible to the naked eye from the Earth’s surface: Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. The Earth was not considered to be a planet, even though early medieval astronomers knew it to be a sphere, a fact that Ælfric acknowledges elsewhere in the work.

Byrhtferth’s Enchiridion (Handbook), another pre-Conquest book on astronomy, written c. 1011, contains the following:

Þa steorran þe man hæt planete on Lyden and on Grecisc apo tes planes (hoc est ab errore) oðre hwile hig beoð on eastende þære heofone swa sunne byð dæghwamlice.

(The stars which people called planete in Latin and in Greek apo tes planes (that is, from wandering) are sometimes at the eastern end of the heaven, as the sun is very day.)

It isn’t until the Middle English period that planet starts appearing in English works as a naturalized word. The South English Legendary, a collection of saint’s lives written c.1300 records the word:

Eiȝte firmamenz þare beoth: swuche ase we i-seoth,
þe Ovemeste is þe riȝtte heouene: in ȝwan þe steorrene beoth—
for godes riche is þare a-boue: þat last with-outen ende;
þare-be-neoþe beoth seoue fermamenz: þat euerech of heom, i-wis,
One steorre hath with-oute mo: þat planete i-cleoped is.
Ichulle nemmen heore seoue names: and formest bi-guynne hext:
Saturnus is al a-boue: and Iupiter sethþe next,
þanne Mars bi-neoþen him: and sethþe þe sonne is,
Venus sethþe, þe clere steorre: Mercurius þanne i-wis,
þat wel selden is of us i-seiȝe: þe Mone is next þe grounde.

(There are eight firmaments, such as we see. The highest is the genuine heaven, in which are the stars—for God’s kingdom is above that, which lasts without end. Beneath that are seven firmaments, each one being home, in fact, to just one star, which is called a planet. I will list their seven names, beginning with the highest. Saturn is above all, and Jupiter follows next. Then Mars is beneath him, and then follows the sun. Venus, the bright star, follows, then, in fact, Mercury, which is very seldom visible to us. The moon is next to the ground.)

This definition held until the Copernican revolution. The heliocentric solar system promulgated by Copernicus and Galileo necessitated a redefinition of planet. The sun and moon were excluded from the list, and Earth was added. In a 1640 book, John Wilkins, who would go on to become the Bishop of Chester and one of founders of the Royal Society, outlined this new astronomical system (and hypothesized life on the moon and other planets):

I have now cited such Authors both ancient and moderne, who have directly maintained the same opinion. I told you likewise in the Proposition that it might probably be deduced from the tenents of others: such were Aristarchus, Philolaeus, and Copernicus, with many other later Writers who assented to their hypothesis; so Ioach. Rhelicus, David Origanus Lansbergius, Guil. Gilbert, and (if I may beleeve Campanella) Innumeri alij Angli & Galli, Very many others, both English and French, all who affirmed our Earth to be one of the Planets, and the Sunne to be the Center of all, about which the heavenly bodies did move. And how horrid soever this may seeme at the first, yet is it likely enough to be true, nor is there any maxime or observation in Opticks (saith Pena) that can disprove it.

Now if our earth were one of the Planets (as it is according to them) then why may not another of the Planets be an earth?

The fifth edition of that work, published in 1684, would add as a subtitle, “A Discourse Concerning a New Planet, Tending to Prove, That ’tis Probable Our Earth Is One of the Planets.”

Over the succeeding centuries the list of planets expanded and contracted. Uranus and Neptune were added upon their discovery. Ceres was originally considered to be a planet, before being demoted to mere asteroid. The planet Vulcan (not the one from Star Trek), believed to orbit the sun closer than Mercury, was considered to be a planet for a while, until it was shown to not exist. Pluto, the first of the Kuiper Belt objects to be discovered, was added to the list upon its discovery in 1930, and for the rest of the twentieth century the list consisted of nine planets: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto.

All the while, astronomers got along just fine without formulating a definition of exactly what constituted a planet. The definition, like all the definitions found in general dictionaries, was determined by common usage.

But by 2005, the discovery of additional Kuiper Belt objects, Eris, Makemake, and Haumea, prompted a problem. Were these to be considered planets too? Eris is roughly the same size as Pluto, and therefore should be considered in the same class. (The New Horizons probe has given us a good measurement of Pluto’s size, but that of Eris is continually being revised up and down as new observations come in. Some days it’s bigger than Pluto; on others it’s smaller.) And there will likely be hundreds of Kuiper Belt objects discovered in coming years, with quite a few being the same size as Pluto and Eris. The list of planets could grow to be unmanageable.

In 2006 the International Astronomical Union (IAU) promulgated a new definition. To be considered a planet an object had to:

  • orbit the sun

  • achieve hydrostatic equilibrium (i.e., have a round shape)

  • have cleared its neighborhood of other objects.

Pluto and Eris failed this last criterion. The list of planets was officially capped at eight.

The definition succeeded in keeping the list manageable. And if the definition had been restricted to the province of what kind of names to assign to planets, that would be fine. Arbitrary naming conventions are the norm—for instance, the moons of Uranus, but not of other planets, are named for characters from Shakespeare. But the definition was not just used for naming; it was applied as a general classification. And as such, the definition is both scientifically useless and linguistically suspect.

First, by saying planets must orbit the “sun,” it arbitrarily limits the planets to our own solar system. According to the definition, there are no other planets in the universe—the IAU dubs planets outside the solar system as exoplanets, a term that dates to 1992. But one of the fundamental tenets of science is that the same rules operate throughout the universe. It makes no scientific sense to have different terms for the same class of object depending on where they exist. Second, hydrostatic equilibrium depends on both mass and composition, so a more massive rocky object might fail the criterion, while a smaller gaseous body might meet it. And whether an object can “clear its neighborhood” depends not only on size, but also on distance from the sun. Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars would not have sufficient mass to clear their neighborhood if they orbited in the Kuiper Belt. And planets can shift their orbits over their lifespans, so it is possible for an object to be a planet in one epoch and not one in another. Ganymede, the largest moon of Jupiter and of the solar system, has far more in common with rocky Mercury than it does with the gas giant Jupiter, yet, according to the IAU definition, Mercury and Jupiter are in the same category and Ganymede is not.

Those solar objects that fail to make the planetary cut have been dubbed dwarf planets. Currently there are about a dozen objects that meet the official criteria for this category, including Pluto, Eris, and the asteroid Ceres. But dwarf planet, like its larger cousin, is not a new term and what constitutes a member of the category has also shifted over the years. Dwarf planet was first used in 1839 in reference to the asteroids in an early science-fiction book, A Fantastical Excursion into the Planets:

But know I am utterly unable to tell on which of the four so wondrous—and yet so neatly divided parcels, I had just alighted, as my spark merely noticed that our landing had been on the territory of one of the dwarf planets, which our astronomers had given in lease to four antiquated divinities, namely to Vesta, Juno, Ceres and Pallas.

Over the years various objects have been considered dwarf planets, including Earth, Venus, and Mars. Which makes sense when you compare them to a behemoth like Jupiter.

And linguistically, both exoplanets and dwarf planets are planets; the exo- and dwarf being mere modifiers. Moreover, usage, even that by professional astronomers, does not adhere to the IAU’s definition. Astronomers routinely use planet, with no modifiers, to refer to exoplanets. For example, there is this from the Publications of the Astronomical Society of the Pacific published in January 2020:

α Centauri A is the closest solar-type star to the Sun and offers an excellent opportunity to detect the thermal emission of a mature planet heated by its host star.

The IAU definition dominates the discussion currently, but it will assuredly be edged aside eventually because it makes no sense, either scientifically or lexicographically. Planets have always been those things that people call planets, and the list of planets has expanded and contracted with the fashion of the age. The logic is circular, but that’s how language works. If the IAU definition created a consistent and scientifically useful classification, then it would be a good technical definition. But it does not.

Perhaps the best method to determine whether or not a celestial object should be dubbed a planet is the Star Trek method—if it would look like a planet if seen from the viewscreen of an orbiting starship Enterprise, then it is a planet.

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Sources:

Ælfric, De temporibus anni. Heinrich Henel, ed. Early English Text Society, O.S. 213. London: Oxford UP, 1942.

Anglo-Norman Dictionary, 2017, s.v. planete, n.

Beichman, Charles, et al. “Searching for Planets Orbiting α Cen A with the James Webb Space Telescope.” Publications of the Astronomical Society of the Pacific, January 2020, 1. JSTOR.

Byrhtferth, Enchiridion. Peter S. Baker and Michael Lapidge, eds. Early English Text Society S.S. 15. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1995.

A Fantastical Excursion into the Planets. London: Saunders and Otley, 1839, 98. Archive.org.

Horstmann, Carl, ed. “Of the Eight Firmaments and the Seven Planets.” The Early South-English Legendary. Early English Text Society, O.S. 87. London: N. Trübner, 1887, 312–13, lines 413–23. HathiTrust Digital Archive. Oxford, Bodleian MS Laud 108.

Middle English Dictionary, University of Michigan, 2019, s. v. planet(e (n.(1))

Merriam-Webster.com, s.v. exoplanet.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, June 2006, s.v. planet, n.; June 2009, s.v. dwarf planet, n.; September 2017, s.v. exoplanet, n.

Wilkins, John. A Discourse Concerning a New World & Another Planet in 2 Books, third impression. London: John Norton for John Maynard, 1640, 90–91. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Zimmer, Ben. “New Planetary Definition a ‘Linguistic Catastrophe’!” Language Log (blog), 25 August 2006.

Image credit: NASA/Johns Hopkins University Applied Physics Laboratory/Southwest Research Institute/Alex Parker, 2015. Public domain image.

arsenic

A block of silvery metal that has been partially pulverized into dust

Arsenic triselenide

3 February 2023

Arsenic, element 33, chemical symbol As, has been known since antiquity. The English word is a borrowing from both the Anglo-Norman arsenik, which is attested in the mid thirteenth century, and directly from the Lain arsenicum. The Latin is, in turn, a borrowing from the ancient Greek ἀρσενικόν (arsenicon). The Greek probably comes from an unattested Middle Iranian word. The present-day Farsi word for the element is زرنى (zarni). Zarnik is the Syriac and Aramaic word for the element, and these languages are probably the route the word took from Middle Iranian into Greek and other European languages.

Arsenic appears in English by the end of the fourteenth century, and it appears in works of Gower, Chaucer, and Trevisa in the 1390s. Gower’s Confessio Amantis has this:

Of the Planetes ben begonne:
The gold is titled to the Sonne,
The mone of Selver hath his part,
And Iren that stant upon Mart,
The Led after Saturne groweth,
And Jupiter the Bras bestoweth,
The Coper set is to Venus,
And to his part Mercurius
Hath the quikselver, as it falleth,
The which, after the bok it calleth,
Is ferst of thilke fowre named
Of Spiritz, whiche ben proclamed;
And the spirit which is secounde
In Sal Armoniak is founde:
The thridde spirit Sulphur is:
The ferthe suiende after this
Arcennicum be name is hote.

(The planets are created from:
Gold is attributed to the sun;
The moon has, for his part, silver;
And it is iron that stands upon Mars;
And lead grows after Saturn;
And Jupiter bestows brass;
Copper is set to Venus;
And for his part Mercury
Has the quicksilver as it falls,
Which the book calls,
The first of these four named
Spirits, which are proclaimed;
And the spirit which is second
Is found in sal ammoniac [ammonium chloride];
The third spirit is sulfur;
The fourth follows after this,
Arsenic is called by name.)

Chaucer’s The Canon Yeoman’s Tale includes this passage:

Ther is also ful many another thyng
That is unto oure craft apertenyng.
Though I by ordre hem nat reherce kan,
By cause that I am a lewed man,
Yet wol I telle hem as they come to mynde,
Thogh I ne kan nat sette hem in hir kynde:
As boole armonyak, verdegrees, boras,
And sondry vessels maad of erthe and glas,
Oure urynales and oure descensories,
Violes, crosletz, and sublymatories,
Cucurbites and alambikes eek,
And othere swiche, deere ynough a leek --
Nat nedeth it for to reherce hem alle --
Watres rubifiyng, and boles galle,
Arsenyk, sal armonyak, and brymstoon;
And herbes koude I telle eek many oon,
As egremoyne, valerian, and lunarie,
And othere swiche, if that me liste tarie;
Oure lampes brennyng bothe nyght and day,
To brynge aboute oure purpos, if we may

(There is also many another thing
That is pertaining unto our craft.
Though I cannot list them in order,
Because I am an unlearned man.
Yet I will name them as they come to mind,
Though I cannot place them in their categories:
Such as armenian bol [red clay], verdigris [copper acetate], borax,
And various vessels made of earth and glass,
Our urinals and our retorts,
Vials, crucibles, and sublimation vessels,
Vessels for distilling and beakers too,
And other such, dear enough for a leek—
There is no need to list them all—
Rubifying waters, and bull’s gall,
Arsenic, sal ammoniac [ammonium chloride], and brimstone;
Of herbs I could tell many a one, as well,
Such as agrimony, valerian, and moonwort,
And other such, if I wanted to tarry.)

And John Trevisa’s translation of of Bartholomæus Anglicus’s De proprietatibus rerum (On the Properties of Things) contains the following passage about the element:

De arsenico. Capitulum XXX.

Arsenicum hatte auripigmentum for þe colour of gold, and is ygadered in Pontus among goldene matiere. Þat is most pure þat passeþ into goldene colour, and þilke þat haþ smale veynes is most pale and acounted wors.

(About arsenic. Chapter 30.

Arsenic is called auripigmentum because of its gold color and is mined in Pontus alongside other golden minerals. That which is most pure passes into a golden color, that which has small veins is most pale and accounted worse.)

Both the Oxford English Dictionary and the Middle English Dictionary include this passage in their citations, although it seems to me that Trevisa is using the Latin word. The -um endings of arsenicum and auripigmentum are unchanged from Bartholomæus’s original. And M.C. Seymour’s 1975 edition of Trevisa’s translation italicizes the words, as it does other Latin terms. Both dictionaries cite Seymour’s edition but omit the italicization in their citations. But, as the passages from Gower and Chaucer show, the word was clearly established in English by this point.

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Sources:

Anglo-Norman Dictionary, 2007, s.v. arsenic, n.

Chaucer, Geoffrey. “The Canon Yeoman’s Tale.” The Canterbury Tales, lines 784–801. Harvard’s Geoffrey Chaucer Website. San Marino, Huntington Library MS EL 26 C 9.

Gower, John. Confessio Amantis. In G.C. Macaulay, ed. The English Works of John Gower, vol. 1 of 2. Early English Text Society, ES 81. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner, 1900, 367–68, lines 4.2467–83. HathiTrust Digital Library. Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Fairfax 3.

Middle English Dictionary, 2019, s.v. arsenik, n.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, September 2018, s.v. arsenic, n.

Trevisa, John. On the Properties of Things: John Trevisa’s Translation of Bartholomæus Anglicus De Proprietatibus Rerum, vol. 2 of 3. Michael Charles Seymour, ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975, 19.30, 1294. London, British Library MS Additional 27944.

Image credit: Materialscientist, 2019. Wikimedia Commons. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.

ale / beer

Photo of a glass of brownish-amber liquid with a foamy head

A glass of pale ale

1 February 2023

In Present-Day usage, beer is more commonly used than ale, and for many beer is a more general category of which ale is a subset. But there are those who distinguish between the two. The distinction between the two, however, has changed over the centuries.

Both words trace back to Old English. In Old English, ealu (ale) was by far more common than beor (beer). Ealu appears some 225 times in the extant corpus, while beer appears only about 60 times. Ealu usually referred to what today we would recognize as ale or beer, and it was also used to gloss the Latin cervisia and caelia, but it could be used more generally to mean any intoxicating drink, including wine. Beor, on the other hand, was used to refer to a sweeter brewed beverage, made with fruits or honey. This passage about John the Baptist from one of Ælfric of Eynsham’s late tenth-century sermons makes use of both terms:

Iohannes ða ða he gestiðod wæs ða wolde he forbugan ða unðeawas þe men begað. and ferde ða to westene. and ðaær wonode oð þæt he fullweaxen wæs. and ðær swiðe stiðlice leofode. ne dranc he naðor ne win. ne beor. ne ealu. ne nan ðæra wætena ðe men of druncniað

(John, when he had grown strong, then he would abstain from vices that men practice, and then went into the wilderness and dwelled there until he was full grown, and lived there very abstemiously, he drank neither wine, nor beer, nor ale, nor any of those liquors that men drink of.)

Beer remained the rarer word until the sixteenth century, when hops began to be widely used in the brewing industry, and it became the term for a brew made with hops. Ale remained, for a time, a hop-less beverage.

But that too changed, and eventually ale began to be brewed with hops, and that distinction between the two words was lost. Instead, ale began to refer to a brew fermented at a higher temperature and where the yeast gathered at the top of the cask, whereas beer was brewed at a lower temperature and the yeast would fall to the bottom. And today, ales tend to be hoppier than beers. Those are the technical distinctions that most brewers observe today, although there is considerable overlap between the two in common usage, and relatively few consumers of the beverages are aware of the technical distinctions.

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Sources:

Ælfric. “#3. “VIII. Idus. Ianuarii. Sermo in Aepiphania Domini.” In Malcolm Godden, Ælfric’s Catholic Homilies: The Second Series Text. Early English Text Society, SS 5. London: Oxford UP, 1979, 19.

Dictionary of Old English: A to I, 2018, s.v. ealu, n., beor, n.

Godden, Malcolm. Ælfric’s Catholic Homilies: Introduction, Commentary, and Glossary. Early English Text Society, SS 18. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2000, 364.

Google Books Ngram Viewer, 4 January 2023, s.v. beer, ale.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, September 2012, s.v. ale, n.; second edition, 1989, s.v. beer, n.1.

Image credit: Alan Levine, 2016. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.

die

A painting of three black-robed human skeletons tending to a garden

“The Garden of Death” (“Kuoleman Puutarha”), by Hugo Simberg, 1906

30 January 2023

We expect that basic vocabulary words trace back to Old English, and that is the case with the verb to die, except there is a twist with this one. The verb to die comes from the Proto-Germanic *dawjan, but this word only survived in the North Germanic languages. It does not seem to have made it directly into Old English or into the East Germanic Gothic, and it fell out of use in the Continental West Germanic languages in the early medieval period.

Old English had several other verbs meaning to die: sweltan, which survives in the Present-Day adjective sweltering; steorfan, the Present-Day form of which is to starve, although in Old English it could mean dying by any means, not just lack of food; and cwelan and acwelan, which give us the Present-Day to quell.

The verb was introduced in the north of England, via the Old Norse deyja, in the late Old English period, and we see uses of the variants deadian and *gedeþan, in the past participle form gedeþed, in Northumbrian glosses of Latin gospels and liturgical texts. From this we can surmise that it had currency as a dialectal term in the north during the late Old English period—Old Norse having had the strongest influence on English in the north.

We start seeing wider use of the verb in the twelfth century. It appears in the c.1135 poem bearing the modern title of History of the Holy Rood-Tree:

Eala þu leofæ freond ic halsiȝe ðe þurh god sylfne þ[æt] ðu underfo minne sunæ & þa ȝestreon þe ic him læfe forþan ðe ic nu deȝen sceal.

(Lo, you dear friend, I beseech you by God himself that you take charge of my son & the possessions that I leave him, because I shall now die.)

And it is found in the c.1175 manuscript known as the Ormulum. From one of the homilies in that manuscript:

& off þiss illke seᵹᵹde þuss
   Daviþþ þe Sallmewrihhte
Till defless þewwess, þatt he sahh
   Þe flæshess wille follᵹhenn;
ᵹe shulenn deᵹenn all se men;
   Forr þiss iss tunderrstanndenn
Alls iff he seᵹᵹde þuss till hemm
   Wiþþ all full open spæche;
ᵹe shulenn deᵹenn ifel dæþ
   To dreᵹhen helle pine,
Forr þatt ᵹe follᵹhenn i þiss lif
   All ᵹure flæshess wille.

(& of this same thus said
   David the Psalm-writer
To the devil’s servant that he saw
   Following the flesh’s will;
Certainly all the men must die
   For this is understood
And if he said thus to him
   With full open speech
If he should die an evil death
   To suffer torment in helle
Because you follow in this life
   All your flesh’s will.)

It also appears in one of the later copies of one of Ælfric’s homilies. The version of his homily for the first Sunday after Pentecost that is found in the c. 1175 Oxford, Bodleian MS Bodley 343 reads:

Nú ne sceole ge healdan eowre child to plihte
to lange hæþene, for ðan þe heo nabbað
infær to heofonum, gif hi hæþene dægeð.

(Now, should you not protect your child from the peril
of becoming heathen, because then he will not have
entrance to heaven if he dies a heathen.)

Earlier manuscripts containing this sermon use acwelan in this passage.

So, the English verb to die actually died and was reborn.

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Sources:

Ælfric. “Dominica I post Pentecosten.” In John C. Pope, ed. Homilies of Ælfric: A Supplementary Collection, vol. 1 of 2. Early English Text Society, 259. London: Oxford UP, 1967, 483, lines 106–08. Oxford, Bodleian MS Bodley 343.

Dictionary of Old English: A to I, 2018: s.v. degan, v., deadian, v., gedeþed, past. part.

Holt, Robert, ed. The Ormulum, vol. 2 of 2. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1878, 182–83, lines 15,428–39. Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Junius 1. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Middle English Dictionary, 2019, dien, v.

Napier, Arthur S., ed. History of the Holy Rood-Tree. Early English Text Society, OS 103. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner, 1894, 14. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

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

Image credit: Hugo Simberg, 1906. Digital reproduction by Rafael Vargas, 2012. Wikimedia Commons. Public domain image as a mechanical reproduction of a public domain work.

argon

A pair of tongs holds an upside-down glass vial containing a clear, translucent material that is melting and giving off a vapor

A vial holding argon ice that is melting. The vial, containing argon gas, had been immersed in liquid nitrogen, causing the gas to freeze. It started melting upon removal.

27 January 2023

The existence of argon, element number 18, was hypothesized by British physicist Henry Cavendish in 1785, but the element was not isolated until 1894, when the 3rd Baron Rayleigh (John William Strutt) and William Ramsay accomplished that task. Rayleigh and Ramsay took the name from the Greek άργός (argos, meaning inactive) as the element is non-reactive.

Reference to Rayleigh and Ramsay’s discovery of argon was first reported in the medical journal the Lancet of 29 December 1894:

ARGON.

We learn that Lord Rayleigh and Professor Ramsay will read a paper at the meeting of the Royal Society on the 31st prox. on an element stated to exist in the atmosphere. As the element has actually received a name (argon), there seems to be no doubt that the new candidate is entitled to a seat among the earlier-known elements after all.

(The Oxford English Dictionary credits this announcement to the Daily News (London) on the day prior. But that paper credits the Lancet and repeats the announcement as it appears in that journal word for word. It seems that, as is often the case with journals, actual production and release of the issue preceded its official date of publication.)

Rayleigh and Ramsay delivered their paper, titled Argon, a New Constituent of the Atmosphere, to the Royal Society on 31 January 1895. In their paper, they wrote of the name:

We do not claim to have exhausted the possible reagents. But this much is certain, that the gas deserves the name “argon,” for it is a most astonishingly indifferent body, inasmuch as it is unattacked by elements of very opposite character, ranging from sodium and magnesium on the one hand, to oxygen, chlorine, and sulphur on the other.

The day following the delivery of their paper, the Daily Telegraph published the following rather nationalistic account of the discovery and the naming of the element, titled Mystery of the Air. A Triumph for British Science. The article is dissonant with the ethos of present-day science but is characteristic of the Victorian era:

Nature often eludes, but never tricks her disciple. “Here,” therefore said the patient investigators, “is an undiscovered form of matter. What are its properties?” One of these was an invincible reluctance to combine with anything else. It would have nothing to do with oxygen, chlorine, phosphorus, sodium, platinum, and various other substances. Even the gentle persuasion of the electric arc was in vain to make it take up companionship with anything else. Hence the philosophers have called their protégé Argon, from the obvious Greek roots signifying inert, or wanting in energy. Too much reliance must not be placed on this bland innocence of Argon. The nitrogen of the air is itself one of the quietest of substances. At first glance it seems as though its great use was to prevent the oxygen burning up everything. Without its presence in the atmosphere steel itself would blaze away, and every diamond in a lady’s tiara would scintillate into millions of dancing particles. Gentle nitrogen prevents all this; but try it in nitroglycerine, and how different its behaviour! Indeed the nitrogen compounds are the armoury of the Anarchist, and so it may happen that when more is known of Argon its character for meekness and inactivity may require modification.

Until 1957, the chemical symbol for argon was generally taken to be A. But that year the International Union of Pure and Applied Chemistry (IUPAC), which governs official chemical nomenclature, changed it to Ar, the symbol in use today, to bring it in line with the other noble gases, which all have two-letter symbols. Ar had been in occasional use since at least 1908.

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Sources:

“Argon.” Daily News (London), 28 December 1894, 3. British Newspaper Archive.

“Argon.” The Lancet, 29 December 1894, 1573. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Cavendish, Henry. “Experiments on Air” (2 June 1785). Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London, 75.75, December 1785, 372–84.

“Mystery of the Air. A Triumph for British Science.” Daily Telegraph (London), 1 February 1895, 3. Gale Primary Sources: The Telegraph Historical Archive.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, June 2011, s.v. Ar, n.2, A, n.; second edition, 1989, s.v. argon, n.

Rayleigh, Lord (John William Strutt) and William Ramsay. “Argon, a New Constituent of the Atmosphere” (31 January 1895), Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London (A), 186, 1895, 234. Nineteenth Century Collections Online.

Photo credit: unknown photographer, 2007. Wikimedia Commons. Licensed under a  GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2