My god, it’s full of worms!

Dear Word Detective: I need to know why cans, such as tin cans, came to be called “cans.” My friends think it was out of necessity; they used to be called “canisters” and it was just shortened because people were too lazy. I don’t think this is the case, however, because the word “canister” has been around since around 1500, originating from even older words as far back as the Greek word “kanna” at least. So that tin cans would be the object dubbed with the name “can” for the reason of laziness hundreds of years after the origin of “canister” doesn’t seem right to me, plus nobody in modern day lets slip the phrase “those canisters of food”; instead they might be referred to as “containers” and we don’t call cans “conts.” The objects that are generally referred to as “canisters,” from what I’ve experienced, are things bearing a resemblance to a thermos or an insulated containment vessel, like those used to hold liquid nitrogen or uranium. — Jacob.

Canisters of uranium, eh? Next you’ll be asking about the origin of “centrifuge,” and we’ll both be revising our plans for the next 30 years. Interestingly, speaking of humorless men with badges, I hear the word “canister” and automatically think “tear gas,” a flashback to my somewhat erratic college career.

Before we delve into the connection, if any, between “can” and “cannister,” I should explain that there is absolutely no connection between the noun “can” (as in “can of soup”) and the English verb “can” meaning “to be able to” (as in “I believe I can fly”). That verb comes from the same Germanic root that gave us “to know,” and in English evolved into meaning “to know how to do something,” i.e., to be able to do it. The old “to know” sense of “can” also gave us “canny” and “cunning,” both meaning “having or exhibiting knowledge.”

“Can” (which dates back to Old English) and “canister” (which didn’t show up until at least the 16th century) are two separate words; “can” is not, and never has been, a short form of “canister.” The two words do, however, share a common origin. “Can” is connected to the Late Latin “canna,” meaning a cup or vessel, and in English it was first used to mean either a drinking cup or a vessel to store liquid. “Cannister” comes from the Latin “canistrum,” meaning “basket,” and in English a “canister” was originally a small box or basket. Both Latin words, however, developed from the Greek “kanna” meaning “reed” (also the source of our “cane”). In the case of “canister,” the connection is obvious since baskets were often made of reeds. The connection of “can” to “reed” is a bit more opaque, but may have to do with the hollowness of large reeds.

In practical use, of course, there’s a great overlap between “can” and “canister,” at least in part because in English the “closed container” sense that developed for “can” also influenced the development of “canister.” About all you can say as even a vague rule is that a “can” is likely to be made of metal, while a “canister” can easily be made of cardboard, plastic, etc., as well as of metal.

Trippin’

Dear Word Detective: My officemate welcomed me back from a recent business trip with facetious comments about my “jaunt,” and asked if I had brought back anything “jaunty” as a souvenir. This immediately made both of us wonder what the connection is between “jaunt” meaning “trip” and “jaunty” meaning “lively,” as in “jaunty hat” or “jaunty demeanor.” Is the logic of “jaunty” that people who leave town a lot are likely to be in a good mood? Not in my case. — Jetlagged, NYC.

You and me both, bucko. In the immortal words of Homer Simpson, “What’s the point of going out? We’re just gonna wind up back here anyway.” When I worked in a office they would often try to send me places, sometimes just across town, but I would always respond with my Bartleby the Scrivener routine (“I would prefer not to”), and eventually they gave up. You should try it.

Your suggestion of a “good mood” connection between “jaunt” and “jaunty” is both inspired and plausible. Unfortunately, it’s not even a little bit true. There is absolutely no connection between “jaunt” and “jaunty,” which strikes even me as weird, but there it is.

“Jaunt” first appeared in English in 1597, in Shakespeare’s “Romeo & Juliet” (“Lord how my bones ache … Fie, what a jaunt have I had.”). As you might infer from the tone of that line, “jaunt” originally meant, not a happy holiday trip, but a long and tiresome journey. It wasn’t until nearly a century later that “jaunt” came into use meaning a trip taken for pleasure (“Your idle jants, taken for amusement only.” 1768) and the old oh-what-a-drag sense of “jaunt” persisted until the late 19th century (“This rough jaunt—alone through night and snow.” Robert Browning, 1879).

Unfortunately, the origin of “jaunt” is a bit of a mystery. It first appeared as a verb, in the late 16th century, meaning “to tire out a horse by making it prance back and forth,” which was expanded to mean “to make a person run to and fro.” That fits with the “tiresome trip” sense of “jaunt,” but the word “jaunt” itself remains obscure. It may have been borrowed from Old French.

The initial meaning of “jaunty” when it appeared in English in the late 17th century was “well-bred, genteel” when applied to persons, “stylish or elegant” in regard to things (“With a jantee pair of Canvass Trowzers.” 1708). The current “lively” sense, which first appeared in 1672, is well-defined by the Oxford English Dictionary: “Easy and sprightly in manner; having or affecting well-bred or easy sprightliness; affecting airy self-satisfaction or unconcern” (“He wore a jaunty cap and jacket.” Dickens, 1841), or “lively, brisk” (“The ladies have a jaunty walk.” 1866).

In contrast to the mystery surrounding the origin of “jaunt,” the source of “jaunty” is satisfyingly certain. “Jaunty” was born as an Anglicized pronunciation and phonetic spelling of the French “gentil,” meaning “noble, proper, pleasing, genteel” (“genteel” itself, as well as “gentle,” were earlier borrowings of “gentil” into English). Since we already had “genteel” to cover the “refined and proper” bases, it’s not surprising that “jaunty” eventually downplayed those senses and primarily came to reflect the “having a good time” and “taking it easy” side of life. After all, being “jaunty” is probably much more fun than being “genteel.”