Search us!
Search The Word Detective and our family of websites:
This is the easiest way to find a column on a particular word or phrase.
To search for a specific phrase, put it between quotation marks.
Ask a Question! Puzzled by Posh?
Confounded by Cattycorner?
Baffled by Balderdash?
Flummoxed by Flabbergast?
Perplexed by Pandemonium?
Nonplussed by... Nonplussed?
Annoyed by Alliteration?
Don't be shy! Send in your question!
 
And don't forget to visit
How Come?
for answers to the science questions you've always wondered about.
Ask a question, win a book!
Columns from 1995 to 2006 are slowly being added to the above archives. For the moment, they can best be found by using the Search box at the top of this column.
If you would like to be notified when each monthly update is posted here, sign up for our free Topica email notification list.
 
 
TWD on Kindle
----------
Get with the future! Subscribe to The Word Detective on Kindle!
Read it in your flying car!
----------
|
Outta here.
Dear Word Detective: What is the origin of the word “quit”? — Rex.
That’s a good question. It’s also a topical question, because I imagine that the number of people “quitting” — voluntarily leaving — their jobs has probably taken a nosedive in the current “economic climate,” as the pundits call the mess we seem to be in. Incidentally, I dread to think what our actual climate would be if, like the picture of Dorian Gray, it reflected the parlous state of our economy. I imagine a parched, smoldering desert baking under a merciless sun, the silence punctuated only by screeching of vultures and the screams of consumers who have fallen into the pits of scalding quicksand, the horizon barren except for a faded and scorched sign reading “Ozymandias Securities, LLC.”
OK, back to work. Incidentally, vultures don’t screech. The only sound they make is a loud huffing noise, rather like a bull snorting. I know because a family of vultures lives right outside my window. They’re very nice. We’re pals.
OK, really back to work. “Quit” is a very old word which has, as very old words often do, a wide range of meanings and platoons of interesting relatives. It all began with the Latin noun “quies,” which meant, as the Oxford English Dictionary enumerates, “sleep, rest, repose, absence of activity, absence of noise, freedom from disturbance, freedom from anxiety, placidness, serenity, tranquility, peaceful conditions.” “Quies” produced a derivative verb “quiescere,” (to be still or quiet), and its past participle “quietus” gave us our modern English word “quiet.”
One of the key meanings of “quies” and “quietus” was that of “freedom” from war, anxiety, or debt. When English first adopted the Anglo-Norman word “quit” (a descendant of “quietus”) in the early 13th century, it was in the sense of “free or released from a debt or obligation,” whether legal, financial or personal. The verb “to quit,” which developed a bit later, carried the sense of “to set free” in general, but soon developed dozens of specific meanings, from “to repay a debt” to “to release from bondage or debt” to “to prove a person innocent of a crime,” a meaning now handled by the related English word “acquit.” Other derivatives include “requite,” which originally meant simply “to repay, to return,” but which is now found most commonly in the form “unrequited,” as in “unrequited love,” affection which is not shared by its object. Even our common English word “quite” is derived from “quit,” and originally meant “absolutely, completely” (“free of any opposition”), but has, since the 19th century, been weakened to mean merely “somewhat” or “moderately” (“The woman has quite a fine face, only she dresses … in a potato sack,” Virginia Woolf, 1915).
The most common sense of “to quit” today, that of “to leave,” arose in the 16th century (“We know our exit, And quit the roome,” 1623). But “to quit” meaning specifically “to leave, resign or withdraw” from a job, line of work, committee, etc., is more recent, dating to the early 17th century (“He was design’d to the Study of the Law; and had made considerable progress in it, before he quitted that Profession, for this of Poetry,” Dryden, 1680). The use of “to quit” to mean “to stop doing something” (smoking, drinking, gambling, etc.) also first appeared in the 17th century.
Shaddup your face.
Dear Word Detective: My gym teacher always says “No comments from the peanut gallery” to this one group of kids in my PE class, then when I got home my step-dad said the same thing. I was wondering, what does that mean? — Jessica.
Well, just for starters, it may mean you have the world’s oldest gym teacher. Just kidding, of course. But I’m mildly amazed that this phrase is still floating around out there and I’d be surprised if either your teacher or your step-dad knows what a real “peanut gallery” was. I actually explained “no comments from the peanut gallery” back in the 1990s, but that was, after all, in the last century, so we’ll give it another go.
“Peanut gallery” goes back to the 19th century, which (for those of you whose schools dropped History class in favor of Media Studies) was before TV, the internet or even movies. Entertainment back then was live and delivered for the most part in theaters that bore little resemblance to today’s mall multiplex. The seating sections were steeply canted, and the higher and further from the stage a tier of seats was, the cheaper the tickets. Thus the cheapest section in a large theater was all the way back and up, so close to the ceiling that they are today sardonically called the “nosebleed seats” (referring to the fact that truly high altitudes cause nosebleeds in many people). To the extent that opera houses and concert halls still exist in large cities in the US, the cheap seats are still up near the ceiling.
The folks who filled this upmost tier, or gallery, of seats tended to be less “refined” than the swanky lot in the seats down front, and they were known for their willingness to point out any perceived shortcomings of the actors on stage with boos, catcalls, and, occasionally, small projectiles. Since peanuts were one of the favorite snacks of these rowdy folks (and made dandy missiles when the mood struck), this seating section became known as “the peanut gallery.” Almost immediately, “peanut gallery” was pressed into service as a synonym for “the rabble” or “the hoi polloi.” Interestingly, the first example of “peanut gallery” in print listed in the Oxford English Dictionary is of the phrase being used in this metaphorical sense (“As a bid for applause from the political pit and peanut gallery it was a masterpiece,” 1876). So “No comments from the peanut galley” is another way of saying, “Be quiet, you little hooligans.”
But the fact that “peanut gallery” is still part of our common vocabulary is almost certainly due to the Howdy Doody Show, an immensely popular children’s TV show in the 1950s. Howdy Doody (a marionette), Buffalo Bob (who provided Howdy’s voice), Clarabell the Clown, Princess Summerfall Winterspring and the rest of the cast performed with a studio audience of children seated in bleachers known as “the Peanut Gallery.”
Incidentally, so popular was “Howdy Doody” and his “Peanut Gallery” among a generation of children that in 1950, when United Features decided to syndicate Charles Schulz’s comic strip, then known as “Li’l Folk,” they insisted, over Schulz’s vigorous objections, on changing its name to “Peanuts.”
I honestly don’t get it.
Dear Word Detective: After a long night of drinking, I awoke this morning with a pretty nice hangover. Surprisingly, my brain was still functioning enough to wonder where and how the word “hangover” was coined. I would imagine it has to do with being hung over a barrel vomiting or some variation of the sort but I’ve also heard it simply means “unfinished business.” Could you possibly provide a cure to my hangover conundrum? – Carmen, Utica, NY.
Well, there’s another thing I don’t have to worry about. I keep a list of such things to cheer myself up. Don’t laugh. It’s a real help when I check my bank statement or watch the news to be able to say, “At least I don’t have to worry about being eaten by a polar bear. Or what I’m going to wear to the Oscars this year.” If you work hard at it (and I do), you can come up with a list of literally thousands of bullets you’ve dodged. It makes forking over $700 you don’t have for a car part you’ve never heard of (as I recently did) a teensy bit easier. Always look on the sunny side, I say, albeit through clenched teeth.
In any case, I don’t worry about hangovers because I’ve been truly, utterly drunk only once in my life, when I was 19, and I decided right then never to do it again. I do remember that hangover quite vividly, however. The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) defines “hangover” as “The unpleasant after-effects of (especially alcoholic) dissipation,” but even I know that doesn’t do the affliction justice. A full-blown hangover can include severe nausea, a blinding headache, excruciating sensitivity to light and aching pain darn near everywhere.
Your theory about “hangover” referring to the posture of literally “hanging over” a receptacle while feeling the after-effects of one’s excess makes perfect sense, since that posture is almost universally a low point of the recovery process. But the “unfinished business” explanation you’ve heard is the dull, but true, source of the word.
When “hangover” first appeared in English at the end of the 19th century, it was in the general sense of, as the OED puts it, “A thing or person remaining or left over; a remainder or survival.” The “hang” in the word is the verb “to hang” in the meaning of “to remain unsettled or unfinished,” as we might say an unanswered question in a press conference is “left hanging.” “Over” carries the sense of “surplus” or “left after the finish,” as one might have the “leftovers” of Sunday dinner for lunch on Monday. This “something left over or left undone from an earlier time” sense of “hangover” is is still in use (“The oversized dormitories … are hang-overs from the old lunatic asylums,” 1973). But the use of “hangover” to mean “aftermath of excess alcohol,” which first appeared in 1904, is now by far the more popular usage.
|
Trivia
All contents herein (except the illustrations, which are in the public domain) are Copyright © 1995-2011 Evan Morris. Reproduction without written permission is prohibited, with the exception that teachers in public schools may duplicate and distribute the material here for classroom use.
Any typos found are yours to keep.
And remember, kids,
Semper Ubi Sub Ubi
Help feed the TWD Cats!
Actual TWD cat pictured.
Other TWD cats even cuter.
|
Recent Comments