Saturday, June 10, 2017

Infectious diseases, Part 6: Eng. vaccine & Sp. vacuna

[This entry comes from a section of Chapter 32 ("Words about infectious diseases") of Part II of the open-source textbook Spanish-English Cognates: An Unconventional Introduction to Spanish Linguistics.]


The modern definition of a vaccine (Sp. vacuna) is ‘a preparation of a weakened or killed pathogen, such as a bacterium or virus, or of a portion of the pathogen’s structure, that upon administration stimulates antibody production or cellular immunity against the pathogen but is incapable of causing severe infection’ (AHD). The idea is to stimulate the body’s natural immune system to create antibodies that will fight a disease, typically an infection, though it could also be a non-infectious disease, such as cancer. The purpose is typically to ward off an infection later on and vaccines that do this are known as prophylactic vaccines (Sp. vacunas profilácticas). Other vaccines are given to already infected people to help them fight the disease they already have and are called therapeutic vaccines (Sp. vacunas terapéuticas).[1]

The Spanish name for this preparation, vacuna, gives us a hint of the origin of its name in both languages. In Spanish, the word vacuna was originally a feminine adjective that meant ‘of a cow’ (masc. vacuno) and is related to the word vaca ‘cow’, which is a patrimonial descendant of Lat. vacca ‘cow’. From the noun vacca (vacc‑a), by means of the adjective-forming derivational suffix ‑īn‑, Latin derived an adjective meaning ‘of or related to cows’ whose masculine form was vaccīnus (vacc‑īn‑us) and whose feminine form was vaccīna (vacc‑īn‑a).

So, what do vaccines have to do with cows? To find out we must go back to the late 18th century when Edward Jenner, and English doctor and scientist, described and named in a particular cow disease, known in English as cow-pox and in Latin, as variolae vaccinae. Literally, variolae is the plural of variola, the Late Latin word for small-pox, which was often pluralized, no doubt because of its association with multiple round pox marks it causes (cf. Sp. viruelas). And vaccinae is a genitive feminine form of an adjective that means ‘of the cow’. This cow disease is known as viruela de la vaca or viruela bovina in Spanish (viruela is Spanish for smallpox).

Edward Jenner discovered that cow-pox is related to the smallpox, which affects humans and is quite deadly (cf. §32.3.40 below). He discovered that humans could also be infected by cowpox and that those who did recovered quickly from the disease and, most importantly, developed an immunity to smallpox, a much more lethal disease. The purposeful infection of humans with cowpox in order to give them immunity to smallpox is considered to be the first generation of vaccines, many of which were developed in the 19th and 20th centuries.

Then in the 19th century, French scientist Louis Pasteur was working on the second generation of vaccines for different diseases and he decided to name these biological preparations after the name Jenner gave to the cowpox disease, in his honor. That is because cow-pox is known in French as variole de la vache or just vaccine, after the second part of the Latin name.

The French term vaccine, meaning ‘cow-pox’, was borrowed into English as the name of these prophilactic preparations that were injected in people, pronounced /ˌvæk.ˈsin/. Other languages made their own adaptations to the original term. In Italian and Portuguese, the term is vaccina, by merely changing the French ‑e ending to the feminine ‑a ending native in those languages. Spanish, on the other hand, already had a native adjective derived from vaca, namely vacuno/a ‘of the cow, bovine’, first attested in the 13th century, and it derived the noun vacuna ‘vaccine’ from the feminine form of this adjective.[2] We find the adjective that this noun comes from most commonly in the collocation ganado vacuno, which translates into English as beef cattle. The Spanish adjectival suffix ‑un‑ would seem to be a rare variant of the Latin suffix ‑īn‑, which also turned nouns into adjectives. It is found only in a few words, such as perruno/a ‘canine’ (15th century; < perro ‘dog’).[3] Note that in modern French, vaccine was remade into a masculine noun, namely vaccin /vak.sɛ̃/, which is how you say vaccine today, for Fr. vaccine /vak.ˈsin/ means ‘cowpox’.

In English, from the noun vaccine, the verb vaccinate /ˌvæk.sɪ.ˈneɪ̯t/ was derived, by means of the Latinate verbal suffix ‑ate. And from this verb, the noun vaccination /ˌvæk.sɪ.ˈneɪ̯.ʃən/ was created by means of the noun suffix ‑tion, which is typically added to Latinate English verbs that end in ‑ate (cf. Part II, Chapter 8). This noun can refer to ‘the act of vaccinating’, but it also be a synonym of the noun vaccine, one that is even more common than the original noun, e.g. polio vaccination ‘vacuna contra la polio’. Analogous derivations happened in Spanish. From the noun vacuna (vacun‑a), the verb vacunar ‘to vaccinate’ (vacun-ar) was created and, from this verb, the noun vacunación ‘vaccination’ (vacun-ación). In Spanish, however, the noun vacunación refers merely to ‘the act of vaccinating’ but is not a synonym of the noun vacuna. The transitive Spanish verb vacunar is often used reflexively, i.e. as an intransitive verb. The reflexive verb vacunarse translates as to be/get vaccinated.




[1] The adjectives Eng. prophylactic ~ Sp. profiláctico/a, meaning something like ‘precautionary’, are loanwords from Greek προϕυλακτικός (prophulaktikos), an adjective made from the following Ancient Greek parts: πρό (pró) ‘before’ and φύλαξις (phúlaxis) ‘a watching, guarding’, a noun derived from the verb φλ́σσειν (phulassein) ‘to watch, guard, protect, defend’. The adjectives Eng. therapeutic /ˌθɛ.ɹə.ˈpju.tɪk/ ~ Sp. terapéutico/a /t̪e.ɾa.ˈpeu̯.t̪i.ko/ come from New Latin therapeuticus ‘curing, healing’, from Ancient Greek θεραπευτικός (therapeutikós) ‘attentive, helpful, obliging, curative’. It first appeared in French in the 16th century and from that language it was borrowed into English and Spanish. This adjective was derived from the noun θεραπευτής (therapeutḗs) ‘one who waits on another, an attendant’ (cf. Sp. terapeuta ‘therapist’), which itself is derived from the verb θερπεύειν (therapein) ‘to wait on, attend, serve, cure’, which itself is derived from the noun θερ́πων (therápōn) ‘attendant, aide, etc.’.

[2] A synonym of the adjective vacuno/a is bovino/a, a cognate of Eng. bovine. These cognates come from Lat. bovīnus/a ‘relating to cattle, from bōs ‘a cow, bull, or ox’ (gen. bŏvis, acc. bŏvem; regular stem: bov‑). Eng. beef is a 14th century loan from Old French buef or boef ‘ox, beef; ox hide’ (modern French: bœuf /ˈbœf/), from Latin bŏvem (accusative form of bōs). Sp. buey ‘ox’ is a patrimonial descendant of the same word bŏvem.

[3] Other words that have the adjectival suffix ‑un‑ are: moruno/a ‘moorish’ (15th century; < moro ‘Moor’), lebruno (< liebre ‘hare), montuno ‘of the mountain’ (< monte ‘mountain’), bajuno (< bajo/a ‘low’), cerduno ‘of pigs’ (< cerdo ‘pig’), frailuno ‘monkish’ (< fraile ‘monk’), and boyuno (rare) ‘bovine’ (< buey ‘ox’).

Friday, June 9, 2017

Personal names, Part 3: Hypocorisms

[This entry is the first part (of three) of the third section ("Hypocorisms") of Chapter 46 ("Personal names") of Part II of the open-source textbook Spanish-English Cognates: An Unconventional Introduction to Spanish Linguistics.]

In addition to regular names, in many cultures there are special versions of a person’s name used only in familiar circumstances. Sometimes these personal names, used by close friends and relatives, are known as diminutives (Sp. diminutivos), nicknames and sobriquets (Sp. apodos, motes), and pet names (Sp. sobrenombres, nombres cariñosos).[i]

The technical word for such names is hypocorisms in English and (nombres) hipocorísticos in Spanish.[ii] English also uses the adjective hypocoristic as a noun, with the same meaning. The word’s origin is Greek, obviously. It is derived from the Greek verb ὑποκορίζομαι (hupokorízomai), which now means ‘to talk in a childish manner’, which in Ancient Greek was formed from the prefix ὑπό (hupó, cf. Eng. hypo‑ and Sp. hipo‑) ‘under, secretly’ and the root κορίζομαι (korízomai) ‘to caress’, which itself is formed from the root κόρ‑ (kór-) ‘child’, cf. κόρος (kóros) ‘boy’, κόρη (kórē) ‘girl’.

Hypocorisms in personal names are primarily either shortened names, e.g. Tony < Anthony, or they contain a diminutive suffix, e.g. Johnny < John, or both, e.g. Vicky < Victoria, Cindy < Cynthia. Shortenings are very common in English, e.g. Al (< Allan, etc.), Bert (< Albert), Amy (< Amanda), Carol or Lyn < Caroline, Dave < David, Dan < Daniel, Gabe < Gabriel, Ken < Kenneth, Mike < Michael, etc.

In English the suffix -y or ‑ie, both pronounced [i], is often added to names to turn them into hypocorisms, as in Johnny < John. Sometimes this suffix is added to the shortened version of the name, e.g. Kenny < Ken < Kenneth, Mikey (Micky) < Mike < Michael, and sometimes it replaces the final syllable, e.g. Charly < Charles, Judy < Judith.

A major way to turn personal names into hypocorisms in Spanish is by adding the diminutive suffix ‑it‑ (‑ito in the masculine and ‑ita in the feminine), e.g. Juanito < Juan, Anita < Ana. Another way to create Spanish hypocorisms is by shortening, as in English, e.g. Manu < Manuel, Alber < Alberto, Javi < Javier, Lupe < Guadalupe. This happens to compound given names as well (see below), e.g. Juanma < Juan Manuel, Juanra < Juan Ramón. We even find shortenings of diminutives, such as Fito < Adolfito < Adolfo. Additionally, there are many nicknames that are corruptions and other non-transparent alterations of the name, e.g. Pepe < José, Pancho/Paco/Curro < Francisco, Lola < María Dolores, Charo < María del Rosario, etc.

Some of the alterations found in hypocoristics could be the result of how children pronounce certain sounds that are difficult to pronounce, as in the nickname Quique, from Enrique. The common nickname Pepe, so different from the ‘real’ version of the name, José, is probably borrowed from Italian, where Peppe (as well as Beppe and other fpr,s) are hypocorisms of the Italian version of the name, namely Giuseppe. (José and Joseph ultimately come from the Hebrew yôsef (יוסף), which became Ιωσηφ (Ioseph) in Greek and Ioseph in Latin.) The origin of the nickname Paco for Francisco is unknown too, but it may also come from Italian, where Franco is an alternative of the name Francesco, from where Francisco comes, and Paco is a reasonable child-speak version of Franco.

Curiously, we find Spanish hypocorisms that end in ‑i, pronounced [i],identical in sound to a common English way of  creating hypocorisms. Some of these are probably due to English influence, such as Susi < Susana (cf. Eng. Susie), Viki < Victoria (cf. Eng. Vickie). Others may have been formed by analogy, such as Pili < Pilar < Maria del Pilar (see above).

A hypocorism may come from another language. That is the case of the hypocorisms Concha and Conchita of the woman’s name Concepción, which is an interesting case study on how names change and travel.[iii] The name Concepción comes from Latin stem conceptiōn‑, a noun form derived from the (past participle stem concep‑) of the Latin verb concĭpĕre (con+cap+ĕre; cf. Part II, Chapter 9), meaning ‘to receive, catch, grasp’. From this verb come the cognate verbs Sp. concebir and Eng. conceive come from that Latin verb and both mean, among other things, ‘to become pregnant’.

The name Concepción makes reference to the conception of Jesus in his mother’s womb, which according to Christian dogma took place without human intervention, hence the terms Eng. Immaculate Conception and Sp. inmaculada concepción, which is the source of the name.[1] Interestingly, the hypocorisms Conchita for this name were taken from their Italian Concetta, which is not a hypocorism, but the equivalent of Sp. Concepción (from Lat. concepta ‘conceived’, the feminine form of Lat. conceptus).[iv] The Italian hypocorisms of Concetta are Cettina, Tina, Titina, and Cetta. Of these, Tina is not an uncommon first name in recent times in the United States, for instance. (There is a male version of this name in Italian, but not in Spanish, namely Concetto.)[2]

Finally, Spanish speakers reinterpreted Conchita, which literally happens to mean ‘little shell’ in Spanish, as a diminutive, and so from it they derived the other hypocorism for this name, Concha, which literally means ‘shell’. (In some parts of the Spanish-speaking world, such as most of the southern cone of South America, concha is a vulgar word for the female sexual parts and thus the hypocorisms Concha and Conchita are avoided there.)



[1] Traditionally, the name Concepción was actually a shortening of Inmaculada Concepción. Women bearing this name typically shorten it to Inmaculada, whose hypocorism is Inma in some places.

[2] From the past participle form conceptus of the verb concĭpĕre, meaning ‘received, caught; derived from; etc.’, Latin derived the identical noun conceptus ‘embryo/fetus; cistern; etc.’, and Medieval Latin the noun conceptum ‘something conceived, draft, abstract’. From this latter noun come the nouns Sp. concepto and Eng. concept (16th century), which at their most basic mean ‘thing conceived’ and, more particularly ‘an abstract idea’ (COED). English also has a technical word conceptus to refer to ‘the embryo during the early stages of pregnancy’ (COED).

Thursday, June 8, 2017

The names of the days of the week, Part 3: Sp. lunes and related words

[This entry comes from a section of Chapter 20, "The names of the days of the week", of Part II of the open-source textbook Spanish-English Cognates: An Unconventional Introduction to Spanish Linguistics.]

Sp. lunes


The evolution of the Spanish word lunes ‘Monday’ is analogous to that of martes that we just saw, with only a minor difference. Sp. lunes comes from Lat. diēs lūnae ‘day of the Moon’, by the dropping of the diēs part. Lat. lūnae ‘of the Moon’ was the genitive wordform of the word lūna ‘Moon’. However, as you may have noticed, something is not quite right here, for there is an s at the end of the word lunes which was not there in the Latin phrase. In other words, whereas martes looks just like we would have expected it, the word lunes does not. the word for ‘Monday’ should have been *lune in Spanish, not lunes. The fact that Spanish lunes has an e instead of the Latin diphthong ae, which in Classical times was pronounced [ai̯], was to be expected, for that is what happened to this diphthong in Spanish patrimonial words by regular sound change (and even in loanwords from Latin, by analogy). But the appearance of the final s is not a regular sound change.

The only way that we can explain the final s of lunes is that it must have been added by analogy with the s that existed at the end of the names of other days of the week, also derived from genitive (possessive) cases that had a final ‑s, namely the words that have given us martes from mārtĭs, as well as jueves from iovĭs, and viernes from vĕnĕrĭs, all of which ended in ‑s. The reason that the genitive lunae did not have a final s is that this one was a first declension word and the genitive case in the first, second, and fifth declensions did not end in ‑s, like it did in the third and fourth declensions (cf. Part I, Chapter 8, §8.4.2.1).

We have evidence that already in the Vulgar (spoken) Latin of later centuries, the word for ‘Monday’ was sometimes changed from diēs lūnae to diēs lūnis, with a final s, by analogy with the names of other days of the week. Thus, this is something that happened early in the change from Latin to the Romance languages and not a peculiarity of Spanish.

This kind of sound change is very different from the other, more common type of sound change, such as the one responsible for Latin ae changing to Spanish e, which was a regular sound change, one which could be summarized thus: ‘Whenever there is ai in a Latin word, we find e in a Spanish that descended from it by word of mouth’. The type of change that resulted in the word lunes having a final s is called analogical sound change. This kind is much more sporadic and unpredictable than the regular sound changes that applied to all sounds (in a particular phonetic context) equally. We find analogical sound change in contexts in which a word becomes associated with others in a set, such as a paradigm.

Lat. luna


As for the Latin word luna (in the nominative case form), there is evidence that it comes from Old Latin losna, a word that has been traced to Proto-Indo-European *lowksneh₂, derived from the root *lewk- ‘to light, shine; see; be bright’. This PIE root is also found in Lat. lūx (acc. lūcem), the source of Sp. luz ‘light’, and Lat. lūmen (acc. lūmen, gen. lūmĭnis), the source of Sp. lumbre ‘fire, flame’ and, ultimately, of Eng. luminous. This same root is also the source of the native English word light, which comes from Old English leoht ‘light, daylight’.

The Spanish word luna descended orally from Latin without undergoing any changes. All other Romance languages have kept this word too, though in some of those languages, the word has changed somewhat, e.g. It. luna, Fr. lune /ˈlyn/, Port. lua and Gal. lúa /ˈlu.a/ (earlier lũa /ˈlũ.a/), and Cat. lluna /ˈʎu.na/.

Lat. luna was the name of the Earth’s satellite, the moon (the name is sometimes capitalized to Moon), but it was also the name of a moon goddess in ancient Roman religion and myth, a ‘personification’ of the moon itself (there were two other lunar goddesses, Diana and Juno, but only Luna personified the Moon). She is typically represented with a female body with a crescent moon over her head and driving a white two-yoke chariot. Luna was the female counterpart and complement of the Sun (Sol), which was conceived of as a (male) god. That is the reason that the word luna was feminine in Latin and is still feminine in Spanish.

The reason the day of the week was called diēs lūnae ‘day of the Moon’ in Latin was that this day of the week was consecrated to the moon goddess, just like Tuesday was consecrated to Mars, the god of war, as we saw earlier. As we will see later, the ancestors of the Anglo-Saxons calqued this identification of this day of the week with the moon, which is why the day of the week in English is called Monday, from Old English Mōnandæg ‘moon day’ or ‘day of the moon’.

As usual, this Roman goddess had a Greek counterpart, whose name was Σελήνη (Selḗnē). The name has been ported into English as Selene, pronounced /sə.ˈli.ni/, and into Spanish as Selena /se.ˈle.na/, from a Latinized version of the name. Selena is a woman’s name in Spanish and Russian, for example. Luna is also a woman’s name in many languages.

Interestingly, English also has the word luna, though it is quite rare and most English speakers have never heard of it. Besides its use as the name for the Roman goddess of the moon, which is capitalized (Luna), Eng. luna has been used at different times, with different meanings. In alchemy, a pseudo-science practiced in the Middle Ages, luna meant ‘silver’. The word luna, or luna-moth, is used in entomology to refer to a ‘large grey-green N. American saturniid moth, Actias luna, with crescent-shaped spots and long curved tails on the wings’ (SOED).

Sp. luna has other meanings besides ‘moon’. In particular, it is used to refer to certain things made of panes of glass, such as to ‘a large sheet of glass used in mirrors [luna de espejo], shop windows [luna de escaparate], car windshields [luna de coche], etc.’ The source of this second meaning of Sp. luna seems to be the same word luna that means ‘moon’, though it is not clear how the derived meaning came about. In addition to luna llena, there is another word for ‘full moon’ in Spanish that contains the root lun‑, namely plenilunio, a loanword from Lat. plēnĭlūnĭum (plēn‑ĭ‑lūn‑ĭ‑um).

Words derived from Lat. luna


From the Latin noun lūna (lūn‑a), an adjective was derived by means of the adjectival suffix ‑ār‑. (Actually, the suffix was ‑āl‑, but the l of this suffix changed to r when following a root that had an l in it.) Adjectives derived with this suffix took third declension endings, such as masculine and feminine nominative singular ‑is. Thus, the adjective is typically given its form lūnāris (lūn‑ār‑is). Its meaning was ‘of the Moon’ or ‘lunar’.

As you may have guessed, Lat. lūnāris is the source of the English and Spanish adjectives lunar, pronounced /ˈlun.əɹ/ in English and /lu.ˈnaɾ/ in Spanish. The adjective lunar came into English in the early 15th century through Old French, first with the meaning ‘crescent-shaped’. Its current meaning is ‘of, determined by, or resembling the moon’ (COED) and we find it in phrases such as lunar landing (Sp. alunizaje), lunar surface (Sp. superficie lunar), lunar month (Sp. mes lunar), lunar rock (Sp. roca lunar), or lunar eclipse (Sp. eclipse lunar). In some of these cases we can substitute lunar with moon, used as a modifier in a noun-noun compound, e.g. moon landing or moon surface (cf. Part I, Chapter 5). Other times, it is equivalent to the modifying phrase of the moon, as in surface of the moon (Sp. superficie de la luna).

The Spanish adjective lunar is probably a learned loanword from Latin and not a patrimonial word, that is, one that was not transmitted uninterruptedly by word of mouth but rather borrowed from written Latin later on as a learned (fancy) word (though it is not fancy any longer). In addition, this adjective has also been converted into a noun in Spanish, the masculine noun lunar. The main meaning of this noun is ‘mole’, that is ‘a small dark blemish on the skin caused by a high concentration of melanin’ (COED). An additional meaning derived from this one is ‘polka dot’, that is, ‘one of a number of round spots that form a pattern, especially on cloth used for clothing’ (DOCE). For example, un vestido de lunares is a polka-dot dress.

Another set of cognate words derived from the word luna, are the adjectives Eng. lunatic and Sp. lunático/a. These words are taken from Late Latin lūnātĭcus ‘moon-struck, crazy, insane’ (fem. lūnātĭca). This Latin word was originally used to refer to people affected by neurological or mental diseases, such as epilepsy and bipolar disorder, which at the time were thought to be caused or somehow affected by the moon. As late as the 18th century, it was still thought that the moon influenced a number of diseases. Lat. lūnātĭcus was primarily an adjective, but it could be used as a noun to refer to a person who was moon-struck or crazy. As for the derivation of the Latin word lūnātĭcus, it has the adjectival suffix ‑ic‑ that we have seen before, but it also has the ‑āt‑ suffix associated with the first conjugation verbs’ passive participle (and supine) stems. However, the morpheme complex ‑ā‑t‑ĭ‑c‑(us/a) came to be used as an extended suffix that formed adjectives from nouns indicating some kind of a relation or action to the meaning from that noun.[1]

Sp. lunático/a is first attested in the 13th century and it is an obvious loanword from Latin (if it was a patrimonial word, it would be *lunazgo). English got this word either directly from Latin or through Old French lunatique ‘insane’ as an adjective in the 13th century, and it is attested as a noun a hundred years later. This word replaced the native Old English word monseoc, which literally meant ‘moon-sick’, based on the same principle. The main collocations using the word lunatic in English are lunatic asylum, a dated word for a psychiatric hospital, and lunatic fringe, a phrase coined by President Theodore Roosevelt in his autobiography (1913), which has come to be used to refer to ‘the members of a usually political or social movement espousing extreme, eccentric, or fanatical views’ (AHD).

 By replacing the ‑tic suffix of lunatic with the Latinate suffix ‑cy that is associated with abstract nouns, English developed the noun lunacy /ˈlun.ə.si/ in the 16th century. At first it referred to ‘the condition of being a lunatic’, i.e. insanity, though now it refers more to ‘behavior that is stupid or crazy’ (OALD) and is thus a synonym of madness. This word is often found collocated with the modifier sheer. The Latinate suffix ‑cy in English came along French words and it stems ultimately from Latin ‑cia or ‑tia, or its Greek cognates ‑κια (-kia) or ‑τια (-tia), e.g. infancy, accuracy, efficiency, solvency, and redundancy. Unlike in the case of lunacy, the suffix ‑cy typically alternates with the ending ‑t(e) of related adjectives (cf. infant, accurate, efficient, solvent, redundant).

Eng. Monday


As we said earlier, the English names for the days of the week are mostly calques or loan translations of the Latin names. Eng. Monday /ˈmʌn.deɪ̯/, comes from Old English Monandæg, among other spellings, which meant literally ‘Moon’s day or ‘day of the Moon’. The parts of this compound were monan, the genitive case wordform of móna ‘moon’ and dæg (dæᵹ) ‘day’. This name is an obvious calque of Latin diēs lunae, with the same meaning.

[GO TO PART 4]



[1] Thus, for example, from the noun via ‘road, path’ (vi‑a), the word ‎viāticus ‘related to a journey or travel’ (vi‑ā‑t‑ĭ‑c‑us). The neuter form of these adjectives was often turned into a noun, e.g. viāticum, which is the source of Sp. viático (learned) and viaje ‘trip, travel’ (Catalan loanword). Actually, Spanish words in ‑aje and English words in ‑age come from Late Latin words with the extended suffix ‑āticum, cf. Part II, Chapter 16.

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

The names of the days of the week, Part 2: Sp. martes (and related words)

[This entry comes from first section ("Introduction") of Chapter 20 ("The names of the days of the week") of Part II of the open-source textbook Spanish-English Cognates: An Unconventional Introduction to Spanish Linguistics.]

From Lat. mārtĭs to Sp. martes


The source of the Spanish word martes ‘Tuesday’ is Lat. diēs mārtĭs ‘day of Mars’. (Since Latin did not distinguish between capital and lower-case letters, we will not capitalize the Latin word for Mars either. Also, remember that, unlike in English, in Spanish, the names of the days of the week are not capitalized.) The Latin word diēs ‘day’, which is the source of Sp. día, is in the nominative case (for more on this word, see §20.6 below). The word mārtĭs ‘of Mars’, on the other hand, is in the genitive or possessive case, not in the nominative case, which would have been mars. That is because mārtĭs meant ‘of Mars’, not just ‘Mars’.[1]

Latin


Spanish
diēs
mārtĭs
martes
‘day’
‘of Mars’

‘Tuesday’

Lat. mārtĭs is formed from the word’s regular stem mārt‑ and the possessive suffix ‑ĭs. In other words, the word mārs in Latin had an irregular nominative case, whereas the other case wordforms were made from the regular stem mart‑ and the regular, third declension, inflectional noun endings. The reason that the name of the day in Spanish is martes, with an e, and not martis, with an i, is that the i in Latin was short, i.e. it was ĭ, and that Latin vowel always became e in Spanish.[2]

Mars, the god of war


And who was this Mars that the day is named after? It was, of course, the Romans’ god of war, whose name descends from an earlier Māvors. The day was named after him because the day was consecrated to him. It is also after him that the Romans named the fourth planet from the Sun and the second-smallest planet in the Solar System, a name that endures in modern English and Spanish. The planet Mars is also known as the Red Planet because of the iron oxide present on the surface that gives it a reddish color. The Romans presumably gave the planet the name of their god of war because of this reddish, blood-like color.

The names of the god and the planet in English, Mars /ˈmɑɹz/, have been taken from the nominative case of the Latin word, namely mars. English borrowed this name in the 14th century, straight from written Latin. The names of the god and the planet in Spanish, on the other hand, have been taken from the accusative case of the Latin word, namely mārtem (mārt‑em), with a loss of a final Latin ‑m that took place very early on in the development of the Romance languages. It must be said, however, that early attestations of the name in Spanish are Mares, obviously derived from the nominative mars, and not Marte.

As in all the names of the days, Spanish dropped the diēs part from the Latin name. Not all Romance languages did this, however. In Catalan, for instance, Tuesday is dimarts, a simplification of dies martis, but without dropping the first part of the phrase. In French the name of the day is mardi, a contraction or ‘corruption’ of martis dies, which is exactly the same thing as dies martis but with the order of the words reversed, which was a perfectly good alternative word order in Latin. The same thing happened in Italian for in this language, Tuesday is martedi.

Going back to the god Mars, he was only second in importance to Jupiter for the Romans (see §20.5 below). He was seen as the ancestor of the Romans, since the was the father of Romulus and Remus, the mythic ancestors of the Romans. Also, he was more than just the god of war for, although he was the most prominent of the military gods, he was also a protector of agriculture. He came to be seen as the equivalent of the Greek god Ares, though the latter god was a violent and destructive god and the former a securer of peace and stability. In Roman times, festivals to this god took place during the month that we now call March after him. The Romans called this month mēnsis mārtĭus ‘month of Mars’. Lat. mārtĭus was an adjective derived from the noun mārs (mārt-ĭ-us) and from that mārtĭus come both Eng. March and Sp. marzo, as well as Ital. marzo, Fr. mars, Cat. març, Port. março, Rus. март (mart), and many more (it was março, pronounced [ˈmaɾ.ʦ̪o], in Old Spanish).

Words derived from Lat. mars


There are other words derived from this god’s name. Thus, for instance, the cognates Eng. martial /ˈmɑɹ.ʃəl/ (as in martial law and martial arts) and Sp. marcial /maɾ.ˈθi̯al/ (as in ley marcial and artes marciales) come from the Latin adjective mārtiālis. This word is derived from the stem mārt-ĭ- of the adjective mārt-ĭ-us and the adjectival suffix ‑āl‑: mārt‑ĭ‑āl‑is (the final ‑is is the nominative, masculine, singular inflection). Eng. martial came into the language in the late 14th century with the sense of ‘warlike’. Sp. marcial is first attested in the early 17th century in Cervantes’ Quijote.

The cognate male given names Eng. Mark and Sp. Marcos are also derived from the name of the Roman god of war. The Roman name was Mārcus, among the most common Roman praenomen or first name (lit. ‘before the name’; abbreviated M.). This name is derived from an earlier *mārtcus, derived from the regular stem mārt‑ of the god’s name. It is a common name in many European languages. The popularity of the name has less to do with its popularity in Rome than with the fact that it is the name of one of the Christian gospels, Mark the Evangelist (cf. the Gospel According to Mark, Sp. el evangelio según San Marcos). Actually, the gospel is anonymous, but traditionally it has been ascribed to a John Mark, assistant to the apostle Paul.

By the way, the name Mark is not related in any way to the homonymous noun mark ‘trace, impression’, and its related verb to mark, which are native Germanic words in English. Spanish marca and marcar are cognates of these English words. They probably came into Spanish in the 15th century from Italian, which got them from a Germanic language, probably Lombard, the language of a Germanic people who conquered the Italian peninsula in the 6th century and who settled in what is now northern Italy, a region that is known today as Lombardy.

Eng. Tuesday



The word Tuesday /ˈt(j)uz.ˌdeɪ̯/, was Tiwesdæᵹ  in Old English (among other spellings). This was a compound word that meant literally ‘Tiw’s day’. It was formed with the genitive case wordform Tiwes of the name Tiw. Tiw was a Germanic sky god which was associated with combat, if not the god of war, at an early time. Thus Tiw was the closest equivalent to the Roman god Mars, just like Ares was the Ancient Greek god of war. Because of his it was chosen for the name of this day when the early Germanic people were calquing or loan-translating the names of the day from Latin.

[GO TO PART 3]




[1] For a description of the nominative case in Latin, as well as other Latin grammatical terms, see Part I, Chapter 8, §8.4.2.
[2] for this and all the other sound changes mentioned in this chapter, see Part I, Chapter 10, §10.3, change [V2]

Monday, June 5, 2017

The names of the days of the week, Part 1: Introduction

[This entry comes from first section ("Introduction") of Chapter 20 ("The names of the days of the week") of Part II of the open-source textbook Spanish-English Cognates: An Unconventional Introduction to Spanish Linguistics.]

The seven-day week


English Monday and Spanish lunes are not cognates and neither are any of the other days of the week, but they are in a way equivalent since they both descend from analogous phrases that meant ‘day of the Moon’. English Monday, for example, is derived from the word Moon and Spanish lunes is derived from the word luna, also meaning ‘moon’ in Latin.

The story of the names of the days of the week in English and Spanish is quite interesting and shows similarities between two systems that were obviously related, even if we are not strictly speaking dealing with cognates. For the most part, in English and Spanish, the names of the days of the week are derived from the names of pre-Christian deities in the Roman world and, in the case of English, also partially of the Anglo-Saxon worlds.

Originally, the Romans had had an 8-day week centered around market/rest days known as nūndinae (Eng. nundines), which they inherited from the Etruscans.[1] However, between the first and the third centuries of the Empire, they replaced it with a 7-day-week calendar derived from the calendars of Babylonian and Assyrian astrology, in which the seven days were named after heavenly bodies. In other words, the Roman names for the days of the week that Romance languages inherited were not the original ones the Romans used, but the ones they gradually adopted after the first century CE. The seven-day system was officially adopted by emperor Constantine (321 CE), by which time the old system was no longer in use.

Dividing time into periods of 7 or 8 days was a rather arbitrary matter for which there was no particular good reason. The ancients reckoned time by lunar calendars and a lunar month has roughly 29.5 days which is almost divisible by 7 (7x4=28), and that may have played a role. Also, the number 7 was held in special high regard in the ancient world, since it was thought to be special and to have magical properties. For instance, there were thought to be seven planets, the classical planets. By planet the ancients meant luminous body in the sky that was not fixed, that moved. This included the Moon and the Sun, of course, which are not today considered planets.

The seven-day cycle for the week has its roots in the Ancient Near East. It is found in the Jewish Bible, for example, but it is no doubt older than that. The seven-day week was used by the ancient Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, and it was even adopted later by India and China as well.

The names of the days of the week in the Greek and Roman traditions


The Greeks assigned names to the days based on the seven classical planets—the sun, the moon, and the five planets visible to the naked eye—named after seven of their gods.[2] Romans calqued the Greek system, including the names for the days of the week. In other words, they did not borrow the words themselves but copied and adapted—that is, they made literal or quasi-literal translations—of the naming system (cf. Part I, Chapter 1, §1.4.2). The following are the names of the days of the week in Greek and their Latin calques (loan translations):

Greek name
Transliteration
Latin name
Translation
ἡμέρᾱ Ἡλίου
hēmérā Hēlíou
diēs Sōlis
‘day of the Sun’
ἡμέρᾱ Σελήνης
hēmérā Selḗnēs
diēs Lūnae
‘day of the Moon’
ἡμέρᾱ Ἄρεως
hēmérā Áreōs
diēs Martis
‘day of Mars’
ἡμέρᾱ Ἑρμοῦ
hēmérā Hermoû
diēs Mercuriī
‘day o Mercury’
ἡμέρᾱ Διός
hēmérā Diós
diēs Iōvis
‘day of Jupiter’
ἡμέρᾱ Ἀφροδῑ́της
hēmérā Aphrodī́tēs
diēs Veneris
‘day of Venus’
ἡμέρᾱ Κρόνου
hēmérā Krónou
diēs Saturnī
‘day of Saturn’

The names of the days of the week in other Romance languages have the same source as the traditional Latin ones, but for the names for Saturday and Sunday, which come from Church Latin in the Christian tradition, as we shall see. The names for the days in Portuguese are different because they stem from the Ecclesiastical (Church) tradition.[3]

The names of the days of the week in English started off as calques of the Latin names. The ancestor of the English language (and of the other Germanic languages) on the European continent calqued and adopted the Latin names, which is why there are so many similarities which we can still tell. Below you can see the names of the days in Old English and their meaning.

Modern English
Old English
Meaning
Sunday
Sunnandæg
‘Sun’s day’
Monday
Mōnandæg
‘Moon’s day’
Tuesday
Tīwesdæg
‘Tiw’s day’
Wednesday
Wōdnesdæg
‘Wodan’s (Odin’s) day’
Thursday
Þūnresdæg
‘Þunor’s (Thor’s) day’
Friday
Frīgedæg
‘Frige’s day’
Saturday
Sæternesdæg
‘Saturn’s day’

We recognize in some of the English names of the week the names of planets and other celestial bodies (Moon, Mars, etc.). Others contain the names of Germanic gods that were thought to be equivalent to Roman gods. Because of common Proto-Indo-European descent and because of close contact during the first 500 years of our era, there are strong similarities between the pantheons of Roman, Greek, and Germanic mythologies.

We will look at the source of the names for the days of the week in turn. All but the last two come from the names they had in Latin but, as we can see, the first part of the name (diēs) has been dropped, though it was optional for a while in Old Spanish. We will start with the day for Tuesday, and then proceed to discuss Monday, which requires further elaboration. But first, we will take a look at the word for ‘day’ in Spanish and its source, which is at the bottom of some interesting cognates.

A note on capitalization


You will have no doubt noticed that the names of the days of the week are not capitalized in Spanish, whereas they are capitalized in English. The same thing applies to the names of the months of the year, which are capitalized in English but not in Spanish. This is a mere orthographic convention that differs from English to Spanish. It would seem that English has chosen to treat these nouns as proper nouns, which are always capitalized in both English and Spanish. Spanish, on the other hand, has chosen to treat them as common nouns, which are not capitalized in either language. Remember, however, that in English, common nouns, as well as adjectives, are capitalized if they are derived from a proper noun, e.g. Christian (< Christ), Bostonian (< Boston), etc., which is not the case in Spanish, e.g. cristiano (< Cristo), bostoniano (< Boston), etc.

Another noticeable area in which capitalization differs in English and Spanish has to do with the names of languages, which are always capitalized in English but not capitalized in Spanish. It would seem that the rationale for not capitalizing names of languages in Spanish is related to the convention not to capitalize adjectives. In Spanish, adjectives are never capitalized, whereas in English they are capitalized only if they are derived from proper nouns. Since the names of languages are almost always derived from adjectives, e.g. inglés, español, francés, etc, it makes sense for them not to be capitalized in Spanish. On the other hand, names of languages that are not derived from adjectives, such as euskera or esperanto are also not capitalized in Spanish

For more information on the use of capital letters in Spanish, see chapter 4 of Ortografía de la lengua española (2010), by Real Academia Española y Asociación de Academias de la Lengua Española. The chapter is titled El uso de las letras mayúsculas y minúsculas.[i]

[GO TO PART 2]



[1] They were so called because the nundine came every ninth day, counting the previous nundine, which is how the Romans reckoned time periods, since the word nūndinae is derived from nōnus ‘ninth’ and diēs ‘day’.

[2] The word planet did not mean then what it means now. For the ancients, the planets were the luminous objects in the sky that were not fixed. The word planet (Sp. planeta) comes Greek πλανήτης (planētēs) what meant ‘wanderer, that wonders. It was actually short for στέρες πλανται(asteres planetai) ‘wandering stars’, star-like objects that moved across the ‘celestial sphere’ relative to the fixed stars.

[3] As for why the names of the days of the week are different in Portuguese, it has to do with a very influential 6th century bishop known as Martin of Braga (in Latin, Martinus Bracarensis, and in Portuguese Martinho de Braga). In his effort to convert the Germanic Suevi in his region from their Arian Christian faith to the Catholic Christian one, he proposed changing the names of the days of the week from the names of pagan gods to the religious names given in the fourth century to the days of Easter week. Only the names of the days that had pagan origins were changed, with Saturday and Sunday remaining as sábado and domingo (as in Spanish). The rest were changed to segunda-feira (Monday), terça-feira (Tuesday), quarta-feira (Wednesday), quinta-feira (Thursday), and sexta-feira (Friday). The word feira comes from Lat. fēria (a back formation of the plural noun fēriae), which meant ‘day of rest due to a festivity, festival, holiday’. This noun is cognate with Sp. feria and Eng. fair.




[i] Cf. http://www.rae.es/obras-academicas/ortografia/ortografia-2010. A bit dated information on capitalization can be found in the Diccionario panhispánico de dudas (2005) available online: http://buscon.rae.es/dpd/srv/search?id=BapzSnotjD6n0vZiTp

Words about sex and gender, part 12: Eng. feminine ~ Sp. femenino/a

 [This entry is taken from a chapter of Part II of the open-source textbook  Spanish-English Cognates: An Unconventional Introduction to Spa...