Expressions fascinate me. Why do they vary so from one
language to another? Consider, for instance, how “through thick and thin” in
English becomes “contigo pan y cebolla” (literally, “with you through bread and
onions”) in Spanish. There must surely be cultural influences that shape the
development, as well as the nuances of, language. Suffice to say that
uncovering what these—and other factors—are is more than just a weekend hobby
for me. I’m always happy when I uncover the origins of yet another idiom, and
I’m always dismayed when I see someone misusing and/or misspelling that same
idiom.
Ice floes on the flowing river…
With spring approaching, I thought I would start with a
phrase familiar to anyone who has lived near a river. Growing up in northern Alberta, I remember how residents would wager on just
when the Athabasca
River would break—yes,
break; not melt—sending huge chunks of ice rocketing into the air.
Of course, those living at more southern latitudes may never
have witnessed such a phenomenon. Further south, rivers tend to thaw gradually
as spring approaches and temperatures begin to climb. As the ice melts, people
can see the river water flow,
carrying with it ice floes.
Chaise longue…
Already, I’m dreaming of pleasant spring days and of curling
up with my cat as beams of sunlight stream through my patio doors, warming my
living room. Since lounging is what most people do in an upholstered sofa or
reclining chair long enough to support the legs, I suppose it’s not a crime
that they’d assume the correct term is chaise
lounge.
In reality, however, this is an example of folk etymology
(from the nineteenth century academic German Volksetymologie), a phenomenon in which a word or phase changes
over time as the result of replacing an unfamiliar form with a more familiar
one.
In this example, chaise
longue (from the French “long chair”) is sometimes written as chaise lounge. This form has persisted
so strongly in the United
States that it is no longer considered
incorrect there; it can even be found in American dictionaries.
When a chaise longue is
divided into two parts, the chair itself and a long footstool, it is known as a duchesse brisée, although the origin of
this name is not known. The récamier,
in contrast, has long sides and two raised ends. It is said that French society
hostess Madame Récamier, for whom the couch is named, posed elegantly on this
equally elegant lit bateau (boat
bed).
Often seen on the silver screen, the asymmetrical méridienne, popular in the grand houses
of France
in the early nineteenth century, is characterized by its high headrest and
lower footrest, joined by a sloping piece. Its name is derived from its typical
use as a daybed on which people would rest in the middle of the day, when the
sun is near the meridian.
Filling the bill…
Around the early nineteenth century, theatrical troupes
began advertising by way of handbills. In order to fill up the page, the lead
performer’s name was commonly printed in extra large letters. When the star’s
performance lived up to expectations—that is, the bold recognition on the
handbill—he or she was said to have lived up to the hype. Of course, today,
those saying instead "fit the bill" and
those who misspell the two aforementioned expressions clearly don’t “fill the
bill”. (I’m of the opinion that chaise
lounge, while considered acceptable in the U.S.,
should still not be used in Canada.)
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Want to know more about the origins of various expressions?
Check out I
Didn’t Know That and I
Didn't Know That, Volume 2 by Karlen Evins.
Nice one! Perhaps next you can take on that most cringe-inducing deformation of the English language, the oft-heard 'irregardless'.
ReplyDeleteI plan to take that one on, irrespective of the consequences.
ReplyDelete