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abstain [abstain 词源字典]: abstain: [14] The literal meaning of this word’s ultimate source, Latin abstinēre, was ‘hold or keep away’, and hence ‘withhold’ (the root verb, tenēre, produced many other derivatives in English, such as contain, maintain, obtain, and retain, as well as tenacious, tenant, tenement, tenet, tenor, and tenure).

That is how it was used when it was first introduced into English (via Old French abstenir), and it was not until the 16th century that it began to be used more specifically for refraining from pleasurable activities, particularly the drinking of alcohol. The past participial stem of the Latin verb, abstent-, gave us abstention, while the present participial stem, abstinent-, produced abstinent and abstinence.

There is no connection, incidentally, with the semantically similar abstemious, which comes from a Latin word for alcoholic drink, tēmōtum.
[abstain etymology, abstain origin, 英语词源]
acre: acre: [OE] Acre is a word of ancient ancestry, going back probably to the Indo-European base *ag-, source of words such as agent and act. This base had a range of meanings covering ‘do’ and ‘drive’, and it is possible that the notion of driving contributed to the concept of driving animals on to land for pasture. However that may be, it gave rise to a group of words in Indo- European languages, including Latin ager (whence English agriculture), Greek agros, Sanskrit ájras, and a hypothetical Germanic *akraz.

By this time, people’s agricultural activities had moved on from herding animals in open country to tilling the soil in enclosed areas, and all of this group of words meant specifically ‘field’. From the Germanic form developed Old English æcer, which as early as 1000 AD had come to be used for referring to a particular measured area of agricultural land (as much as a pair of oxen could plough in one day).
=> act, agent, agriculture, eyrie, onager, peregrine, pilgrim
adamant: adamant: [14] In Greek, adamas meant ‘unbreakable, invincible’. It was formed from the verb daman ‘subdue, break down’ (which came from the same source as English tame) plus the negative prefix a-. It developed a noun usage as a ‘hard substance’, specifically ‘diamond’ or ‘very hard metal’, and this passed into Latin as adamāns, or, in its stem form, adamant-. Hence Old French adamaunt, and eventually English adamant.
=> diamond, tame
admiral: admiral: [13] Admirals originally had nothing specifically to do with the sea. The word comes ultimately from Arabic ’amīr ‘commander’ (from which English later also acquired emir [17]). This entered into various titles followed by the particle -al- ‘of’ (’amīr-al-bahr ‘commander of the sea’, ’amīr-al-mūminīn ‘commander of the faithful’), and when it was borrowed into European languages, ’amīr-al- became misconstrued as an independent, free-standing word.

Moreover, the Romans, when they adopted it, smuggled in their own Latin prefix ad-, producing admiral. When this reached English (via Old French) it still meant simply ‘commander’, and it was not until the time of Edward III that a strong naval link began to emerge. The Arabic title ’amīr-al-bahr had had considerable linguistic influence in the wake of Arabic conquests around the Mediterranean seaboard (Spanish almirante de la mar, for instance), and specific application of the term to a naval commander spread via Spain, Italy, and France to England.

Thus in the 15th century England had its Admiral of the Sea or Admiral of the Navy, who was in charge of the national fleet. By 1500 the maritime connection was firmly established, and admiral came to be used on its own for ‘supreme naval commander’.
=> emir
advocate: advocate: [14] Etymologically, advocate contains the notion of ‘calling’, specifically of calling someone in for advice or as a witness. This was the meaning of the Latin verb advocāre (formed from vocāre ‘call’, from which English also gets vocation). Its past participle, advocātus, came to be used as a noun, originally meaning ‘legal witness or adviser’, and later ‘attorney’.

In Old French this became avocat, the form in which English borrowed it; it was later relatinized to advocate. The verb advocate does not appear until the 17th century. The word was also borrowed into Dutch, as advocaat, and the compound advocaatenborrel, literally ‘lawyer’s drink’, has, by shortening, given English the name for a sweetish yellow concoction of eggs and brandy.
=> invoke, revoke, vocation
alcohol: alcohol: [16] Originally, alcohol was a powder, not a liquid. The word comes from Arabic alkuhul, literally ‘the kohl’ – that is, powdered antimony used as a cosmetic for darkening the eyelids. This was borrowed into English via French or medieval Latin, and retained this ‘powder’ meaning for some centuries (for instance, ‘They put between the eyelids and the eye a certain black powder made of a mineral brought from the kingdom of Fez, and called Alcohol’, George Sandys, Travels 1615).

But a change was rapidly taking place: from specifically ‘antimony’, alcohol came to mean any substance obtained by sublimation, and hence ‘quintessence’. Alcohol of wine was thus the ‘quintessence of wine’, produced by distillation or rectification, and by the middle of the 18th century alcohol was being used on its own for the intoxicating ingredient in strong liquor.

The more precise chemical definition (a compound with a hydroxyl group bound to a hydrocarbon group) developed in the 19th century.
=> kohl
alma mater: alma mater: [17] Alma mater literally means ‘mother who fosters or nourishes’. The Latin adjective almus ‘giving nourishment’, derives from the verb alere ‘nourish’ (source of English alimony and alimentary). The epithet alma mater was originally applied by the Romans to a number of goddesses whose particular province was abundance, notably Ceres and Cybele.

In the 17th century it began to be used in English with reference to a person’s former school or college, thought of as a place of intellectual and spiritual nourishment (Alexander Pope was amongst its earliest users, although the reference is far from kind: ‘Proceed, great days! ’till Learning fly the shore … ’Till Isis’ Elders reel, their pupils’ sport, And Alma mater lie dissolv’d in Port!’ Dunciad 1718).

If that which nourishes is almus, those who are nourished are alumni (similarly derived from the verb alere). Alumnus was first applied in English to a pupil – and more specifically a former pupil or graduate – in the 17th century; an early reference combines the notions of alumnus and alma mater: ‘Lieutenant Governor … promised his Interposition for them, as become such an Alumnus to such an Alma Mater’, William Sewall’s Diary 12 October 1696.

The first example of the feminine form, alumna, comes in the 1880s.
=> alimentary, alimony, alumnus
almanac: almanac: [14] One of the first recorded uses of almanac in English is by Chaucer in his Treatise on the astrolabe 1391: ‘A table of the verray Moeuyng of the Mone from howre to howre, every day and in every signe, after thin Almenak’. At that time an almanac was specifically a table of the movements and positions of the sun, moon, and planets, from which astronomical calculations could be made; other refinements and additions, such as a calendar, came to be included over succeeding centuries.

The earliest authenticated reference to an almanac comes in the (Latin) works of the English scientist Roger Bacon, in the mid 13th century. But the ultimate source of the word is obscure. Its first syllable, al-, and its general relevance to medieval science and technology, strongly suggest an Arabic origin, but no convincing candidate has been found.
anode: anode: [19] The term anode, meaning ‘positive electrode’, appears to have been introduced by the English philosopher William Whewell around 1834. It was based on Greek ánodos ‘way up’, a compound noun formed from aná- ‘up’ and hodós ‘way’ (also represented in exodus ‘way out’ and odometer ‘instrument for measuring distance travelled’, and possibly related to Latin cēdere, source of English cede and a host of derived words). It specifically contrasts with cathode, which means literally ‘way down’.
=> exodus, odometer
antique: antique: [16] Originally, in Latin, antique was an adjectivized version of the adverb and preposition ‘before’: to ante ‘before’ was added the adjective suffix -īcus, to produce the adjective antīquus (somewhat later an exactly parallel formation, using the suffix -ānus rather than -īcus, produced the adjective which became English ancient).

English acquired the word either via French antique or directly from Latin. To begin with, and until relatively recently, it meant simply ‘ancient’, or specifically ‘of the ancient world’; it was only towards the end of the 18th century that the modern sense ‘made long ago and therefore collectable’ began to become established. In Italian, antico (from Latin antīquus) was often applied to grotesque carvings found in ancient remains.

It was borrowed into English in the 16th century as an adjective, antic, meaning ‘bizarre’, but also as a noun, usually used in the plural, in the sense ‘absurd behaviour’.
=> ancient, antic
apocryphal: apocryphal: [16] Apocryphal is a ‘secondgeneration’ adjective; the original adjective form in English was apocrypha (‘The writing is apocrypha when the author thereof is unknown’, John de Trevisa 1387). This came, via ecclesiastical Latin, from Greek apókruphos ‘hidden’, a derivative of the compound verb apokrúptein ‘hide away’, which was formed from the prefix apo- ‘away, off’ and the verb krúptein ‘hide’ (source of English crypt and cryptic).

It was applied as a noun to writings in general that were of unknown authorship, and in the 16th century came to be used specifically as the collective term for the uncanonical books of the Old Testament. It was perhaps confusion between the adjectival and nominal roles of apocrypha that led to the formation of the new adjective apocryphal towards the end of the 16th century.
=> crypt, cryptic
arctic: arctic: [14] Etymologically, the Arctic is the region of the ‘bear’. Nothing to do with polar bears, though. The characteristic constellations of the northern hemisphere are the ‘Little Bear’ (Latin Ursa Minor), which contains the northern celestial pole, and the Plough, otherwise known as the ‘Great Bear’ (Latin Ursa Major). The perception that they resemble a bear (Greek arktos) goes back to ancient times, and the Greeks used the derived adjective arktikos, literally ‘relating to bears’, to denote ‘northern’.

By the time this reached English, via Latin ar(c)ticus and Old French artique, it was being applied specifically to the northern polar regions. (The original English spelling, reflecting the French form, was artic. The more etymologically ‘correct’ arctic came in in the 17th century, but uncertain spellers are still apt to regress to artic.) Antarctic [14] for the corresponding southern polar region likewise comes ultimately from Greek (antarktikos, with the prefix anti- ‘opposite’). Arcturus [14], the name of a very bright star in the constellation Boötes, means literally ‘bear watcher’ or ‘bear guardian’ (Greek Arktouros), a reference to the fact that the tail of the Great Bear points towards it.
arsenal: arsenal: [16] The word arsenal has a complicated history, stretching back through Italian to Arabic. The Arabic original was dāras- sinā‘ah, literally ‘house of the manufacture’. This seems to have been borrowed into Venetian Italian, somehow losing its initial d, as arzaná, and been applied specifically to the large naval dockyard in Venice (which in the 15th century was the leading naval power in the Mediterranean).

The dockyard is known to this day as the Arzenale, showing the subsequent addition of the -al ending. English acquired the word either from Italian or from French arsenal, and at first used it only for dockyards (‘making the Arsenal at Athens, able to receive 1000 ships’, Philemon Holland’s translation of Pliny’s Natural history 1601); but by the end of the 16th century it was coming into more general use as a ‘military storehouse’.

The English soccer club Arsenal gets its name from its original home in Woolwich, south London, where there used to be a British government arsenal.
article: article: [13] Like art, arm, and arthritis, article goes back to an Indo-European root *ar-, which meant ‘put things together, join, fit’. Amongst its derivatives was Latin artus ‘joint’ (a form parallel to Greek árthron, source of arthritis), of which the diminutive was articulus ‘small joint’. This was extended metaphorically to mean ‘division, part’, and when the word first entered English, via Old French article, it was used for a particular clause of a treaty, of a contract, or specifically of the Creed.

Its application to an ‘item, thing’ is a comparatively late development, from the start of the 19th century. A Latin derivative of articulus, the verb articulāre ‘divide into joints’, hence ‘speak distinctly’, gave rise to English articulate [16].
=> arm, art, arthritis
asylum: asylum: [15] Greek sulon meant ‘right of seizure’. With the addition of the negative prefix a- ‘not’ this was turned into the adjective ásūlos ‘inviolable’, which in turn was nominalized as āsūlon ‘refuge’. When it first entered English, via Latin asylum, it was used specifically for ‘place of sanctuary for hunted criminals and others’ (a meaning reflected in modern English ‘political asylum’), and it was not until the mid 18th century that it came to be applied to mental hospitals.
atlas: atlas: [16] In Greek mythology, Atlas was a Titan who as a punishment for rebelling against the gods was forced to carry the heavens on his shoulders. Hence when the term was first used in English it was applied to a ‘supporter’: ‘I dare commend him to all that know him, as the Atlas of Poetry’, Thomas Nashe on Robert Greene’s Menaphon 1589. In the 16th century it was common to include a picture of Atlas with his onerous burden as a frontispiece in books of maps, and from this arose the habit of referring to such books as atlases (the application is sometimes said to have arisen specifically from such a book produced in the late 16th century by the Flemish cartographer Gerardus Mercator (1512–94), published in England in 1636 under the title Atlas).

Atlas also gave his name to the Atlantic ocean. In ancient myth, the heavens were said to be supported on a high mountain in northwestern Africa, represented as, and now named after, the Titan Atlas. In its Greek adjectival form Atlantikós (later Latin Atlanticus) it was applied to the seas immediately to the west of Africa, and gradually to the rest of the ocean as it came within the boundaries of the known world.
=> atlantic
bad: bad: [13] For such a common word, bad has a remarkably clouded history. It does not begin to appear in English until the end of the 13th century, and has no apparent relatives in other languages (the uncanny resemblance to Persian bad is purely coincidental). The few clues we have suggest a regrettably homophobic origin. Old English had a pair of words, bǣddel and bǣdling, which appear to have been derogatory terms for homosexuals, with overtones of sodomy.

The fact that the first examples we have of bad, from the late 13th and early 14th centuries, are in the sense ‘contemptible, worthless’ as applied to people indicates that the connotations of moral depravity may have become generalized from an earlier, specifically anti-homosexual sense.
berry: berry: [OE] Berry is a strictly Germanic word, not found in other branches of Indo-European (German has beere, Dutch bes, and Danish bær). Its earliest application seems to have been specifically to grapes; the only record of it in Old Saxon and Gothic is in the compound ‘wineberry’, and around 1000 Aelfric translated Deuteronomy 23:24 into Old English as ‘If you go into your friend’s vineyard, eat the berries’.

But by the Middle Ages the term had broadened out to encompass the sorts of fruit we would recognize today as berries. The word goes back ultimately to a prehistoric Germanic *basj-, which it has been speculated may be related to Old English basu ‘red’.
bias: bias: [16] English acquired bias from Old French biais, but its previous history is uncertain. It probably came via Old Provençal, but where from? Speculations include Latin bifacem ‘looking two ways’, from bi- ‘two’ and faciēs ‘face’, and Greek epikársios ‘oblique’. When the word first entered English it meant simply ‘oblique line’, but by the end of the 16th century it was being applied more specifically to the game of bowls, in the sense of the ‘bowl’s curved path’, and also the ‘unequal weighting given to the bowl in order to achieve such a path’.

The modern figurative senses ‘inclination’ and ‘prejudice’ derive from this.
bird: bird: [OE] Bird is something of a mystery word. It was not the ordinary Old English word for ‘feathered flying animal’; that was fowl. In Old English, bird meant specifically ‘young bird, nestling’. It did not begin to replace fowl as the general term until the 14th century, and the process took many hundreds of years to complete. Its source is quite unknown; it has no obvious relatives in the Germanic languages, or in any other Indo-European language.

The connotations of its original meaning have led to speculation that it is connected with breed and brood (the usual Old English form was brid, but the r and i subsequently became transposed in a process known as metathesis), but no convincing evidence for this has ever been advanced. As early as 1300, bird was used for ‘girl’, but this was probably owing to confusion with another similar Middle English word, burde, which also meant ‘young woman’.

The usage crops up from time to time in later centuries, clearly as an independent metaphorical application, but there does not really seem to be an unbroken chain of occurrences leading up to the sudden explosion in the use of bird for ‘young woman’ in the 20th century. Of other figurative applications of the word, ‘audience disapproval’ (as in ‘get the bird’) comes from the hissing of geese, and in ‘prison sentence’ bird is short for bird lime, rhyming slang for time.
blaze: blaze: There are three distinct words blaze in English. The commonest, meaning ‘fire, flame’ [OE], comes from a prehistoric Germanic *blasōn. Its original signification was ‘torch’ (in the sense, of course, of a burning piece of wood or bunch of sticks), but by the year 1000 the main current meaning was established. The precise source of blaze ‘light-coloured mark or spot’ [17] is not known for certain, but there are several cognate forms in other Germanic languages, including Old Norse blesi and German blässe; perhaps the likeliest candidate as far as blaze is concerned is Middle Low German bles.

The verbal usage, as in ‘blaze a trail’ (that is, by making conspicuous marks on trees) originated in the mid 18th century. The related German adjective blass ‘pale’, which originally meant ‘shining’, points up the fact that ultimately these two words blaze are related, the primeval sense ‘shining’ having diverged on the one hand through ‘pale’, on the other through ‘glowing, burning’.

The third blaze, ‘proclaim’ [14], as in ‘blaze abroad’, is now seldom encountered. It originally meant ‘blow a trumpet’, and comes ultimately from the Indo-European base *bhlā- (source of blow). Its immediate source in English was Middle Dutch blāsen. Despite its formal and semantic similarity, it does not appear to have any connection with blazon [13], which comes from Old French blason ‘shield’, a word of unknown origin.

A blazer [19] got its name from being a brightly coloured jacket (from blaze meaning ‘fire, flame’). It originated among English university students in the late 19th century. According to a correspondent in the Daily News 22 August 1889, the word was originally applied specifically to the red jackets worn by members of the ‘Lady Margaret, St John’s College, Cambridge, Boat Club’.

But by the 1880s its more general application had become widely established: in the Durham University Journal of 21 February 1885 we read that ‘the latest novelty … for the river is flannels, a blazer, and spats’.
=> blow
bodice: bodice: [16] Originally, bodice was identical with bodies – that is, the plural of body. This use of body began early in the 16th century, when it referred to the part of a woman’s dress that covered the trunk, as opposed to the arms; and it soon became restricted specifically to the part above the waist. The reason for the adoption of the plural form (which was often used originally in the phrase pair of bodies) was that the upper portion of women’s dresses was usually in two parts, which fastened down the middle. In the 17th and 18th centuries the term bodice was frequently applied to ‘corsets’.
=> body
box: box: English has two distinct words box. The ‘receptacle’ [OE] probably comes from late Latin buxis, a variant of Latin pyxis (whence English pyx ‘container for Communion bread’ [14]). This was borrowed from Greek puxís, which originally meant not simply ‘box’, but specifically ‘box made of wood’; for it was a derivative of Greek púxos, which via Latin buxus has given English box the tree [OE]. Box ‘fight with the fists’ first appeared in English as a noun, meaning ‘blow’ [14], now preserved mainly in ‘a box round the ears’.

Its ancestry is uncertain: it may be related to Middle Dutch bōke and Danish bask ‘blow’, or it could simply be an obscure metaphorical extension of box ‘receptacle’.
=> pyx
broach: broach: [14] The original meaning of broach was ‘pierce’, and it came from a noun meaning ‘spike’. The word’s ultimate source was the Latin adjective brocchus ‘pointed, projecting’, which in Vulgar Latin came to be used as a noun, *broca ‘spike’. This passed into Old French as broche, meaning ‘long needle’ and also ‘spit for roasting’. English first borrowed the word in the 13th century, as brooch, and then took it over again in the 14th century in the above quoted French meanings.

The nominal senses have now either died out or are restricted to technical contexts, but the verb, from the Vulgar Latin derivative *broccare, remains. From ‘pierce’, its meaning became specifically ‘tap a barrel’, which in the 16th century was applied metaphorically to ‘introduce a subject’. In French, the noun broche has produced a diminutive brochette ‘skewer’, borrowed into English in the 18th century; while a derivative of the verb brocher ‘stitch’ has been brochure, literally ‘a few pages stitched together’, also acquired by English in the 18th century.

A further relative is broccoli [17], plural of Italian broccolo ‘cabbage sprout’, a diminutive of brocco ‘shoot’, from Vulgar Latin *brocca.
=> broccoli, brochure, brooch
brothel: brothel: [14] Originally, brothel was a general term of abuse for any worthless or despised person (John Gower, in his Confessio Amantis 1393, writes: ‘Quoth Achab then, there is one, a brothel, which Micheas hight [who is called Micheas]’); it was a derivative of the Old English adjective brothen ‘ruined, degenerate’, which was originally the past participle of the verb brēothan ‘deteriorate’ (possibly a relative of brēotan ‘break’, which may be connected with brittle).

In the late 15th century we have the first evidence of its being applied specifically to a ‘prostitute’. Thence came the compound brothel-house, and by the late 16th century this had been abbreviated to brothel in its current sense.
bugger: bugger: [16] The Bulgarians, belonging from the early Christian era to the Eastern Orthodox Church, were regarded by Western Europeans as heretics. Thus it was that the Latin word Bulgarus came to be applied generically to any heretic, and eventually specifically to the Albigenses, a Catharistic sect in southern France in the 11th to 13th centuries. It passed via Old French bougre and Middle Dutch bugger into English, acquiring along the way bigoted associations of heresy with anal intercourse. The weakened use of the word as a general term of abuse dates from the early 18th century.
bulb: bulb: [16] Bulb can be traced back to Greek bólbos, which was a name for various plants with a rounded swelling underground stem. In its passage via Latin bulbus to English it was often applied specifically to the ‘onion’, and that was its original meaning in English. Its application to the light bulb, dating from the 1850s, is an extension of an earlier 19th-century sense ‘bulbshaped swelling in a glass tube’, used from the 1830s for thermometer bulbs.
can: can: [OE] English has two distinct words can. The verb ‘be able to’ goes back via Old English cunnan and Germanic *kunnan to an Indo- European base *gn-, which also produced know. The underlying etymological meaning of can is thus ‘know’ or more specifically ‘come to know’, which survived in English until comparatively recently (in Ben Jonson’s The Magnetick Lady 1632, for example, we find ‘She could the Bible in the holy tongue’).

This developed into ‘know how to do something’, from which we get the current ‘be able to do something’. The past tense could comes ultimately from prehistoric Germanic *kuntha, via Old English cūthe (related to English uncouth) and late Middle English coude; the l is a 16th-century intrusion, based on the model of should and would. (Canny [16] is probably a derivative of the verb can, mirroring a much earlier but parallel formation cunning.) Can ‘container’ appears to come from a prehistoric Germanic *kannōn-.
=> canny, cunning, ken, know, uncouth
cathode: cathode: [19] The term cathode, meaning ‘negative electrode’, appears to have been introduced by the English philosopher William Whewell around 1834. It was based on Greek káthodos ‘way down’, a compound formed from katá- ‘down’ and hodós ‘way’ (also represented in exodus ‘way out’ and odometer ‘instrument for measuring distance travelled’, and possibly related to Latin cēdere, source of English cede and a host of derived words). It specifically contrasts with anode, which means literally ‘way up’.
=> exodus, odometer
cattle: cattle: [13] Ultimately, cattle is the same word as chattel [13], and when it first entered English it had the same meaning, ‘property’. From earliest times, however, it was applied specifically to livestock thought of as property. In the Middle Ages it was a wide-ranging term in animal husbandry, being used for horses, sheep, pigs, and even poultry and bees, as well as cows, and such usages survived dialectally until comparatively recently, but from the mid 16th century onwards there is increasing evidence of the word’s being restricted solely to cows.

Its ultimate source is medieval Latin capitāle ‘property’, which came to English via Old French chatel as chattel and via Anglo-Norman catel as cattle. Capitāle itself goes back to classical Latin capitālis (from caput ‘head’), from which English gets capital.
=> capital, chattel
centre: centre: [14] The word centre came originally from the spike of a pair of compasses which is stuck into a surface while the other arm describes a circle round it. Greek kéntron meant ‘sharp point’, or more specifically ‘goad for oxen’ (it was a derivative of the verb kentein ‘prick’), and hence was applied to a compass spike; and it was not long before this spread metaphorically to ‘mid-point of a circle’. The word reached English either via Old French centre or directly from Latin centrum. The derived adjective central is 16th-century.
=> eccentric
chair: chair: [13] Chair comes ultimately from Greek kathédrā ‘seat’ (source also of cathedral, of course), which was a compound originally meaning literally ‘something for sitting down on’ – it was formed from katá- ‘down’ and *hed- ‘sit’. It produced Latin cathedra, which in Old French became chaiere, the source of the English word.

The use of chair specifically for the seat occupied by someone presiding at a meeting dates from the mid 17th century, and its metaphorical extension to the person sitting in it, as symbolizing his or her office – as in ‘address one’s remarks to the chair’ – is virtually contemporary (‘The Chair behaves himself like a Busby amongst so many schoolboys’, Thomas Burton’s Diary, 23 March 1658); but its use as a synonym for chairperson, to avoid a distinction on grounds of sex, is a late 20th-century development.
=> cathedral
champagne: champagne: [17] Champagne comes (as does campaign) from late Latin campānia, a derivative of Latin campus ‘open field’ (source of English camp). This passed into Old French as champagne ‘open country’, a word borrowed into English in the 14th century as champaign (now archaic). It came to be applied specifically to a province of northeastern France (an area largely of open rolling countryside) and hence to the wine produced in that area.

There are references to ‘brisk Champagne’ and ‘sparkling Champagne’ in English from the 1660s and 1670s, but it was not until about two hundred years ago that modern champagne, produced by secondary fermentation in bottle, was invented (according to legend, by the monk Dom Perignon).
=> camp, campaign, champion
cider: cider: [14] Despite its seeming roots in the appleproducing English countryside, cider is a very ancient word, which has come a long way to reach us. Hebrew shēkhār meant ‘any strong drink in general’. It crops up in several places in the Bible, and was adopted by Greek and Latin translators as, respectively, sīkéra and sīcera. The Latin form was borrowed into Old French, where it became sisdre and eventually sidre.

By now it was being applied more specifically to drink made from apples, and it had that meaning when it was borrowed into English. However, its biblical associations were still sufficiently strong for it to retain its original meaning in certain contexts: for example, in 1382 John Wyclif translated Luke 1:15 (‘he shall drink neither wine nor strong drink’) as ‘he shall not drink wine and cider’.

Its original form survived for a while, too, as sicar, which did not disappear from English until the 17th century.
clan: clan: [14] The immediate source of clan is naturally enough Gaelic, but ultimately it comes, somewhat unexpectedly, from Latin, for etymologically it is the same word as plant. Scots Gaelic clann originally meant ‘offspring’ (hence the modern meaning ‘family group’), and it came from Old Irish cland, a direct borrowing from Latin planta (the Celtic languages of the British Isles tended to change Latin /p/ to /k/).

This was the source of English plant, but it did not then have nearly such a broad application; it meant specifically ‘shoot suitable for planting out’, and the connotations of ‘new growth’ and ‘offspring’ show up in the Gaelic borrowing.
=> plant
claret: claret: [14] Claret was originally a ‘lightcoloured wine’ – pale red (virtually what we would now call rosé), but also apparently yellowish. The word comes ultimately from Latin clārus ‘clear’; from this was derived the verb clārāre, whose past participle was used in the phrase vīnum clārātum ‘clarified wine’. This passed into Old French as vin claret.

Modern French clairet preserves the word’s early sense ‘pale wine, rosé’, but in English by the later 17th century seems to have been transferred to red wine, and since in those days the vast majority of red wine imported into Britain came from Southwest France, and Bordeaux in particular, it was not long before claret came to mean specifically ‘red Bordeaux’.
=> clear
client: client: [14] The original status of a client was rather lowly: he was someone who was at another’s beck and call, and dependent on them. The word comes from Latin cliēns, an alteration of an earlier cluēns, the present participle of the verb cluēre ‘listen, follow, obey’; hence someone who was cliēns was always listening out for another’s orders, unable to take independent action (in ancient Rome it meant specifically a plebeian under the protection of a nobleman).

That sense is preserved in such English expressions as ‘client state’. The word’s more modern senses have developed through ‘person on whose behalf a lawyer acts’ in the 15th century to simply ‘customer’ in the 17th century.
cockle: cockle: [14] The cockle is related etymologically to another mollusc, the conch: they both began life in Greek kónkhē – which meant ‘mussel’ as well as ‘conch’. From this was formed the diminutive konkhúlion ‘small variety of conch’ – hence ‘cockle’. The Greek word subsequently became reduced to kokhúlion, whose plural passed into medieval Latin as *cochilia.

Next in the chain was Old French coquille, source of the English word. The origin of the phrase cockles of one’s heart (first recorded in the mid 17th century) are not clear: some have claimed that the heart resembles a cockle shell, or more specifically that the fibres of the heart muscle spiral like the lines on a cockle shell, while others note a supposed resemblance of cockle to corculum, a Latin diminutive of cor ‘heart’, and others again point out that the scientific name for the cockle is Cardium, from Greek kardíā ‘heart’, but none of these explanations really carries conviction.
=> conch
cockney: cockney: [14] Etymologically, a cockney is a ‘cock’s egg’ (it comes from cokene, the old genitive plural of cock, and ey, the Middle English word for ‘egg’). This was a medieval term for a small or misshapen egg, the ‘runt’ of the clutch, supposedly laid by a cock, and it came to be applied (probably egged on by Middle English cocker ‘pamper’) to a ‘pampered child’ or ‘mother’s boy’.

In the 16th century we find that it has passed on to ‘town dweller’ (the notion being that people who lived in towns were soft and effete compared with countrymen), and by around 1600 it had started to mean more specifically ‘someone born in the city of London’. The popular definition ‘someone born within the sound of Bow bells’ is first reported by the lexicographer John Minsheu in 1617.
=> cock, egg
cohort: cohort: [15] Etymologically, cohort is an ‘enclosed yard’. It comes via Old French cohorte from Latin cohors, a compound noun formed from the prefix com- ‘with’ and an element hortwhich also appears in Latin hortus ‘garden’ (source of English horticulture) and is related to English garden, yard, and the second element of orchard.

From the underlying sense of ‘enclosed place’ it came to be applied to a crowd of people in such a place, and then more specifically to an infantry company in the Roman army. Its meaning has spread figuratively in English to ‘band of associates or accomplices’, whose frequent use in the plural led to the misapprehension that a single cohort was an ‘associate’ or ‘accomplice’ – a usage which emerged in American English in the mid 20th century.

The original form of the Latin word is well preserved in cohort, but it has also reached us, more thickly disguised, as court.
=> court, garden, horticulture, orchard, yard
concern: concern: [15] In earliest use, English concern meant ‘distinguish, discern’. This was a reflection of its ultimate source, Latin cernere ‘sift, separate’. In combination with the prefix com- ‘together’ it produced concernere, which in classical times meant specifically ‘mix together preparatory to sifting’. Later, however, the prefix seems to have taken on a more intensive role, with concernere reverting to the same range of senses as cernere.

By the Middle Ages these not only included ‘discern, perceive’ and ‘decide’ (whence English certain, from the past participle of cernere), but had widened considerably to ‘relate to’ – a meaning which emerged in English concern in the 16th century. Connotations of distress or worry began to develop in the late 17th century.
=> certain, discern
continent: continent: [14] Continent comes via Old French from Latin continēns, the present participle of continēre ‘hold together, enclose, contain’ (source of English contain). From the beginning it meant in general ‘exercising self-restraint’; of the more specific senses, ‘chaste’ developed in the 14th century and ‘able to retain urine and faeces’ apparently in the early 19th century.

The word’s noun use developed from the Latin phrase terra continēns ‘continuous land’ (for this sense of Latin continēre see CONTINUE). It was at first applied in the 16th century to any large continuous expanse of territory, and from the early 17th century specifically to any of the Earth’s major landmasses (the English use of ‘the Continent’ for mainland Europe is roughly contemporary with this).
=> contain, content, continue, countenance
corn: corn: [OE] The underlying sense of corn is of grinding down into small particles. The word comes ultimately from the Indo-European base *ger-, which meant ‘wear away’. From it was derived *grnóm ‘worn-down particle’, which in Latin produced grānum (source of English grain) and in prehistoric Germanic produced *kurnam, which developed into Old English corn.

Already in Germanic times the word had developed in meaning from simply ‘particle’ to ‘small seed’ and specifically ‘cereal grain’, but English corn was not of course applied to ‘maize’ before that plant came to Europe from America in the 16th century. The original sense ‘particle’ survives in corned beef, where corned refers to the grains of salt with which the meat is preserved.

The meaning ‘hackneyed or sentimental matter’ is a 20th-century development, based on the supposedly unsophisticated life of country areas. Kernel comes from an Old English diminutive form of corn. Corn ‘hardening of the skin’ [15] is a completely different word, coming via Anglo- Norman corn from Latin cornū ‘horn’.
=> grain; horn
coster: coster: [19] Coster is short for costermonger, a term dating from the 16th century. Since the 19th century, and perhaps before, it has been a general term in Britain, and particularly in London, for a street trader with a barrow or stall, but further back in time it meant ‘fruiterer’, and originally, more specifically still, a ‘seller of apples’. The first element, coster, was an alteration of costard, a word of Anglo-Norman origin for a type of large apple.

This was derived from coste ‘rib’ (a descendant of Latin costa, source of English coast), and the costard was apparently so called because of its prominent ‘ribs’. (Monger ‘dealer’ [OE], now used in English only in compounds, comes from a prehistoric Germanic *manggōjan, a borrowing from Latin mangō ‘dealer’.)
=> coast
crater: crater: [17] Greek kratér meant ‘bowl’, or more specifically ‘mixing bowl’: it was a derivative of the base *kerā, which also produced the verb kerannúnai ‘mix’. (Crater or krater is still used in English as a technical term for the bowl or jar used by the ancient Greeks for mixing wine and water in.) Borrowed into Latin as crātēr, it came to be used metaphorically for the bowl-shaped depression at the mouth of a volcano. Its acquisition by English is first recorded in Samuel Purchas’s Pilgrimage 1619.
crisscross: crisscross: [16] Crisscross is an alteration of Christscrosse, a term used from the 16th to 18th centuries for the figure of a cross (not specifically, as the name would seem to suggest, the crucifix). Gradually the original signification of the first syllable came to be lost, and the term fell into the pattern of reduplicated words (such as flipflop, singsong) in which a syllable is repeated with variation of the vowel. This may have contributed to the broadening of the word’s meaning to ‘pattern of repeated crossings’, which happened in the 19th century.
damp: damp: [14] The familiar adjectival use of damp as ‘slightly wet’ is a comparatively recent development, from the 18th century. When the word was first borrowed into English, from Middle Low German damp, it was a noun meaning ‘vapour’ (an application which survives in fire-damp). It comes ultimately from a Germanic base *thump-. The first line of semantic development taken by the word in English was of a ‘noxious exhalation’ (including gas or even smoke, not just vapour), and this is reflected in its earliest adjectival use, in the late 16th century, meaning ‘dazed’, as if affected by such harmful fumes; ‘with looks downcast and damp’, John Milton, Paradise Lost 1667.

Another contemporary sense was ‘noxious’. But the 17th century saw the noun used more and more for specifically wet turbidity: ‘mist’, or simply ‘moisture’. And this formed the basis of the present-day adjectival sense.
dapple: dapple: [14] Dapple is a puzzling word. It is presumably derived from or linked in some way to its contemporary dapple-grey (although this has never been proved), which has formal and semantic links with several colour terms in other Germanic languages (such as Old Norse apalgrár, German apfelgrau, and Dutch appelgrauw) that are surely too strong to be coincidental.

They all mean literally ‘applegrey’. Add to this such forms as French grispommelé, again literally ‘applegrey’, and Russian yablokakh ‘dappled’, a derivative of yábloko ‘apple’, and the inference becomes even more compelling – that dappled is related in some way as yet unexplained to apple. Many of the above terms were applied specifically to grey horses marked with round blotches, and so perhaps the word had its beginnings in a perceived resemblance in shape between such markings and apples.
dean: dean: [14] Etymologically, a dean is someone in charge of a group of ten people. That was the meaning of its ancestor, Greek dekānós, a word formed from déka ‘ten’. This eventually came to designate specifically someone in charge of ten monks, and this sense passed via late Latin decānus, Old French deien, and Anglo-Norman deen into English as the ‘head of a cathedral’. The modern French descendant of deien, doyen, was reborrowed into English in the 17th century.
=> doyen
deck: deck: [15] Ultimately, deck (both the noun and the verb) is the same word as thatch. The meaning element they share is of a ‘covering over the top’. The noun was borrowed from Middle Dutch dec, which meant ‘covering’ in general, and more specifically ‘roof’ and ‘cloak’ (its ultimate source was Germanic *thakjam, source of English thatch).

Its modern nautical sense did not develop in English until the early 16th century, and as its antecedents suggest, its original signification was of a covering, perhaps of canvas or tarpaulin, for a boat. Only gradually has the perception of it changed from a roof protecting what is beneath to a floor for those walking above. The word’s application to a pack of cards, which dates from the 16th century, perhaps comes from the notion of the cards in a pile being on top of one another like the successive decks of a ship.

The verb deck [16] comes from Middle Dutch dekken ‘cover’.
=> detect, thatch, toga