Conn

Filed Under March 2007, columns | 3 Comments

He’s Fred, Jim.

Dear Word Detective: What is the origin of the word “conn”? I think I first heard the word while watching Star Trek: “Number One, you have the conn.” Recently, the word has caught on around the office and the question “Who has the conn?” will often be heard. Sadly, most have never seen the word spelled, so they invariably will type “Who has the con”? I guess a second question would be which is preferred, “conn” or “con”? –Andy.

Are you sure about that? I always thought it was “Mister Sulu, you have the conn,” and that Number One was the actor you’d never seen before who beamed down to Altair Four with Kirk and Spock and then got eaten by a giant clam.

To “have the conn” means to be in charge or have the power of command. I tend to associate the term with movies made from Tom Clancy novels and similar he-man fare, so it’s a bit difficult to imagine “Who has the conn?” being widely used in any office where you’re not required to salute your boss. On the other hand, I’ve been working at home for many years, so maybe I’m unaware of a recent militarization of office life. I can’t say I’d be surprised, but I hope this doesn’t mean I have to buy little uniforms for the cats.

“Conn,” meaning the power to metaphorically steer the course of an endeavor or enterprise, comes from the literal use of that power. When “conn” (in the form “cun”) first appeared in English in the 17th century as a verb, it meant “to direct the steering or course of a ship,” usually from the bridge of the ship or its equivalent. Obviously, the captain of a ship has the primary responsibility for “conning” the vessel, but often delegates the “conn” (the noun appeared in the early 19th century) to subordinate officers. Early battleships actually had elevated “conning towers,” armored to protect the captain, et al., but today the same functions are usually carried out from a “conning station” on the ship’s bridge.

For a term redolent of the high seas and naval battles of yore, “conn” has a remarkably tame origin. “Conn” apparently arose as a variant form of the verb “cond,” also meaning “to direct the steering of a ship,” which in turn derived from the obsolete verb “condue,” meaning “to conduct or guide.” As you might suspect, “condue” itself ultimately harks back to the Latin “conducere” (to lead or guide), which also gave us our modern English “conduct.”

 

 

Rapscallion

Filed Under March 2007, columns | 1 Comment

The pitter-patter of tiny larcenies.

Dear Word Detective: Could you please indicate the origin and definition of the word “rapscallion” or “rapscalion”? — John V. Murphy.

I’ll give it a shot. The usual spelling today is “rapscallion,” although, as we shall see, the spelling varies a bit over the history of this word and its relatives.

“Rapscallion” today is usually used to mean “a rascal” or “a scamp,” a person who may flout society’s conventions, and even, on occasion, break the law, but who falls short of being a major-league evildoer. A “rapscallion” is mischievous, not murderous, often a ne’er-do-well but never a hardened criminal. But before we get too warm and fuzzy about “rapscallions,” we should note that this tolerant connotation of the word is a fairly recent development.

“Rapscallion” first appeared in the late 17th century, but that spelling was apparently a mutation of the earlier “rascallion,” which had appeared in print in 1649. Both words originally carried a more pejorative connotation than “rapscallion” does today; the Oxford English Dictionary defines “rascallion” as “a low mean wretch or rascal.”

That definition contains the key to the origin of the word — “rascallion” is simply “rascal” with the suffix “alion” or “allion” appended. That suffix is, alas, an etymological mystery. Evidently it carried a solidly pejorative meaning back in the 17th century, because it also turns up in “tatterdemalion” (a vagrant dressed in tattered clothing) and “rampallion,” (a ruffian or villain), both of which were current at the time.

“Rascal” is a somewhat older word than “rapscallion” and its relatives, first appearing in English in the early 14th century, drawn from the Old French “rascaille,” meaning “outcast or rabble,” possibly in turn derived from “rasque,” mud or filth. “Rascal” originally simply denoted a member of the lower classes (which is bad enough, given that “filth” stuff), but by the 16th century had come to mean “an unprincipled or dishonest man.”

The transformation in the meaning of both “rapscallion” and “rascal” from “criminal” to “mischievous scamp” seems to have come from the growing use of the terms in a figurative, playful sense, a process which, in the case of “rascal,” was underway by the 17th century (”Sweet Rascal! If your love bee as earnest as your protestation, you will meete me this night at supper,” 1610). Today both “rapscallion” and “rascal” are almost entirely devoid of any real pejorative connotation. The same process has also tamed “tatterdemalion” (today meaning usually just a raggedly-dressed child) as well as “ragamuffin” (originally “Ragamoffyn,” a demon in William Langland’s 1393 epic poem “Piers Plowman,” but now meaning simply “a messy child”).

 

 

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