Old English to Modern English

A few will be aware I have been known to speak on various subjects over the years. Fundamentally these all revolve around my favourite subject of etymology. Have always enjoyed bringing this fascinating subject to others. It’s not for me to say whether the audiences have, although many have asked me to return.

Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these etymological presentations, continuing with Old English to Modern English. The Saxons, Angles, Jutes and Frisians arrived on our shores from the fifth century AD. They brought with them the basis of our culture and a language which we refer to as Old English. Over the next 1,500 years influences principally from the Scandinavian and French tongues took this to Middle English and eventually to Modern English. English is the most diverse language and this is not simply down to the number of words adopted from quite unrelated tongues, a remnant of colonial days. There is a reason why English, more than any other, needs a thesaurus - indeed most languages never bother publishing a thesaurus (Japanese is a notable exception). That English has been influenced by so many others has led to such a great number of alternative words. Learn how these came began, where they came from and, most interestingly, how they evolved, how the meanings changed and developed to become the language we know today. There is a PowerPoint presentation to accompany this talk if required.

The letter A is for an used in such things as ‘an egg’ instead of ‘a’ when the following noun begins with a vowel. However, it actually began as ‘one’ hence ‘one egg’ and the use of ‘a’ actually the loss of the following ‘n’. Note it is difficult to say AN LEG, AN HORSE, AN BOTTLE) but Old English would have been pronounced as AYN LEG, AYN HORSE, AYN BOTTLE which is rather easier. The same thing is seen in anfeld which may have been used to mean ‘simple’ but actually comes from ‘one-fold’ as in ‘once’.

The letter C is for ceap meaning ‘market’ and which also gave geceapian ‘to buy’. Now today we look for things on the cheap at the market, where originally they would market things at the cheap. Note we say ‘on the cheap’ to mean ‘cheaply’ – on the cheap meaning ‘on the market’. And this is still seen in place names such as Chipping Norton, Chipping Sodbury and street names such as Cheap Street and Cheapside.

The Letter K is for nothing, no not a silent ‘k’ but a letter coming to modern English from the Scandinavian languages. Incidentally the silent ‘K’ is a modern idea – once we had k-nights, and k-nives, but nobody wore k-nickers as this was originally knickerbockers and even that word unknown before 1859. This was not what you were expecting when I mentioned knickerbockers – admit it.

The letter Q is French and did not appear in Old English. Oddly the word ‘queue’, albeit with a spelling of c-u-e, appeared in English before the Norman invasion. It was used to describe a ‘tail’ (and other long parts of the mammalian anatomy), and first used to refer to a line of people in 1837, some 350 years after the first queues were named as ‘lines of dancers’.

If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.

Household Items

A few will be aware I have been known to speak on various subjects over the years. Fundamentally these all revolve around my favourite subject of etymology. Have always enjoyed bringing this fascinating subject to others. It’s not for me to say whether the audiences have, although many have asked me to return.

Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these etymological presentations, continuing with Household Items. Pots and pans, cutlery, white goods, and even those most basic items such as the table, the chair and the bed - at some point in time these must have been named and why were these chosen? A fascinatingly different look at our history through both language and everyday items. Some things will never be seen in the same light again. There is a PowerPoint presentation to accompany this talk if required.

And for a taster let’s take a look at a few examples beginning with toaster: from ‘toast’, first used to refer to the browning of bread in the early 15th century, this came from the Old French toster meaning ‘to grill, roast, burn’ and, in turn, comes from the Latin torrere ‘to parch’ which is ultimately from Proto-Indo-European ters ‘to dry’. Interestingly this is also the origin of ‘terrain’, which today refers to a broad expanse of ground but originally meant ‘dry ground’ and thus the phrase ‘desert terrain’ or ‘waterless terrain’ is quite superfluous.

Knife: comes from Proto-Germanic knibaz also meaning ‘knife’. Note the pronunciation with a silent ‘k’ is only since 1750 – this was not deliberate, it is simply quite difficult to continually say ker-nife.

Toilet: now you might be a little surprised to find the earliest use in English, seen from 1530s, came from Middle French toilette meaning ‘a cloth, bag for clothes’. This shares an origin with ‘toil’, itself a Middle French origin where toile meant ‘hunting net, cloth, web’ and traced to Proto-Indo-European teks ‘to weave’. So how did ‘cloth’ become ‘karzee’? The answer, as with all changes, is by association – the cloth adorned the dresser, the dresser was in a small room or closet, and eventually to the inevitable lavatory attached or included. Now you’re going to ask about ‘lavatory’, which comes from the same root as ‘lave’ and referred to a ‘place for washing’ – and thus began as a euphemism for ‘toilet’.

If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.

Trial by Combat

Ashford v Thornton (1818) 106 ER 149 is an English criminal case in the Court of King's Bench which upheld the right of the defendant to trial by battle on a private appeal from an acquittal for murder.. In 1817, Abraham Thornton was charged with the murder of Mary Ashford. Thornton had met Ashford at a dance and had walked with her from the event. Next morning, she was found drowned in a local pit, although there was little evidence of her having died a violent death. Charged with rape and murder, public opinion would have condemned Thornton, but the jury could not see any evidence to convict him and he was acquitted.

But that was not the end of the story, for William Ashford, Mary's brother, launched an appeal and when Thornton was rearrested, he claimed the right to trial by battle or combat. This medieval solution was still on the stature books and therefore quite legal. Back to court they went, with Ashford claiming the evidence against Thornton was overwhelming. The court disagreed and trial by battle was Ashford's sole remaining option. Ashford did not take up the option and Thornton was released. In 1819 appeals of this nature were abolished by the state, but too late for Thornton's reputation and he had already departed for a new life in the United States of America.

The last recorded trial by battle to come to a conclusion dates from 1597. In Scotland Adam Butterfield accused James Carmichael of murder and exacted revenge by killing the latter. Other cases in 1631 and 1638 were stopped by the king's intervention.

Attempts to abolish the law came in the 17th century and twice in the 18th century, all proving unsuccessful. Of course, in 1819 it did disappear from the statute books, but that did not prevent the law being cited in 2002. Unemployed 60-year-old mechanic Leon Humphreys appeared in Ipswich court, charged with failing to tell the DVLA his motorcycle was off road and thus liable to pay the Road Fund Licence. The DVLA were attempting to fine him £25. But the man from Bury St Edmunds did not agree. Indeed, he told the court he would not enter a plea but demanded the DVLA nominate a champion whom he would fight to the death to prove his innocence. He also claimed the new Human Rights laws meant ordinary folk like him could use the law for their own purposes. Traditionally these battles were fought with swords, lances, shields, staves, and the like - but Mr Humphreys was happy to wield Japanese samurai swords, Ghurka knives, or even a blacksmith's hammer.

Mr Humphreys was forced to pay the fine.

Drunken Assault

15th February 1902 and Maud Shipley, aged 28 of Lombard Street was arrested when found running down Lombard Street at 10:40pm by PC Williams shouting, “Oh my lad, what have I done?” At her home on the sofa in the kitchen they found her husband Frank. Part of the lobe of his left ear was missing, there was a wound to his neck, and a 1.1/2-inch gash to his face – he was bleeding heavily. A white-handled knife also covered in blood was also present.

At the inquest adjournment followed, as victim was unable to attend. A week later, head swathed in bandages and looking very unwell, he gave evidence. He was a waggoner, employed by Mr Summerfield, a coal dealer. He left work, called at the Mitre Inn for a pint, then arrived home to find his wife very aggressive, agitated, excitable, the worse for drink and demanding money. He refused and went out for a shave. On coming out of the barbers’ she was waiting for him and again demanding money. She followed him home, again and again demanding money. Eventually he went back to the Mitre Inn to fill a bottle with beer so he could drink it with his supper.

The couple had three children, the oldest 5 and youngest almost 2. Sister said she had seen her sister Maud several times that day complaining of money, she had shared a beer with her, and two other women had got her from the Grapes Inn, and thought her ‘half and half’ with the drink. A passer-by saw her banging on her door, screaming “I will finish the bastard before the night’s out”. She then re-entered, he watched as she picked up a knife and stabbed Frank three or four times in quick succession. He passed her as she ran out and attended to the man who was bleeding profusely and he stated “She was three sheets”. A second passer-by arrived to assist. Second witness went for the doctor and the police. When the doctor arrived, he noted a great deal of blood both inside and outside the house, the place looked like a slaughterhouse. Sent to court she claimed her husband had thrown that very knife at her twice before, although there was no evidence to support this. She was sentenced to three months with hard labour.

Bloodbath

September 26th 1817 was a Friday. A Mr Owen went to visit his sister at her home in Gibraltar Row, Prospect Place, St George’s Fields, where she lived with her husband, Mr Jones. Here the maidservant Mary Berry let him in, whereupon Owen burst into the kitchen where the couple were eating and proceeded to attack Mr Jones with a large knife, resulting in large wounds to the head and neck. Mrs Jones and the maid attempted to pull Owen off, resulting in wounds to their hands and arms. With blood still dripping from her wounds, the maid ran into the street screaming for help.

A former sailor by the name of Hopkins heard her cries and rushed to her aid together they ran back into the building. Here they found Owen kneeling on his brother-in-law, the later now bleeding from several wounds including a deep cut to the abdomen. Hopkins managed to dislodge and disarm Hopkins and dragged the injured Jones into the street. Owen then produced a second knife and leapt upon his own sister, first plunging the blade between two ribs, then slashing open her forehead, and then shoving the knife into her mouth ripped the side of her face open to the ear and also split her tongue wide open. The maid rushed to the aid of her mistress but was also set upon and with cuts to Mary Berry’s arms.

Although both women were quite faint through loss of blood they somehow managed to drag themselves into the street and the protection of their neighbours, who took them into their own homes to await medical attention, albeit the likelihood of their successful recovery was, at best, slight. By now the large and powerfully-built Owen had barricaded himself inside the house loudly threatening anyone in earshot the, too, would be butchered should they attempt to gain access. This violent individual was now defending himself against at least two hundred individuals in the street.

When the police arrived they planned to storm the building. With volunteers aplenty armed with pokers, clothes-props and bludgeons, a vast number entered through the windows and doors both front and rear, even bringing ladders to crash through upstairs windows. Appearing at one of the upstairs windows, Owen was seen whetting one knife on the other until felled by (of all things) a clothes-prop and subsequently pounded by a multitude of fists and weaponry – although he continued to fight back ‘mightily’ until disarmed. With cuts to both hands, the now overpowered Owen was tethered at hands and feet with strong rope and carried bodily from the place, albeit still ranting and raging like a madman.

The injured were taken to St Thomas’s Hospital while, with his now wounds bandaged, Owen imprisoned. Later it was revealed this horrendous attack was started by Mr Jones when he sued Mr Owen for custody of Owen’s two young sons, believing they would be better off living with the Jones family. Owen had won the case and retained custody of his children, but the stress and worry had resulted in the death of his wife (just how this came about is not recorded). It had been earlier of the day of the attack that her funeral had taken place and, having been taken to the house of a friend where they had given him food and drink, the now drink-enraged Owen had gone into a frenzy as none had ever seen in the city of Lichfield.

Herbert and Maud Freeman

4th September 1911 and at Hanch, north of Lichfield near the present golf club, Herbert Freeman, aged 46, attempted to kill his wife Maud aged 33. Had been living at Craddock’s Yard, Wilcox’s Entry, Tamworth Street, Lichfield. They only married on August 8th, 27 days earlier, and it had already proved to be a terrible marriage.

Their wedding reception was held at the Windsor Castle Inn, Lichfield. Here they fought and were asked to quit but refused and so found themselves in front of magistrates charged with disturbing the peace – at their own wedding reception! Over the next four weeks matters did not improve. On the 4th September they were out on Cannock Chase together and called at the Roe Buck Inn, Wolseley Bridge - now known as the Wolseley Arms. Here they found Alfred Black, a dreyman of the Lichfield Brewery. and obtained a lift back on his float.

All went well until they reached Handsacre, as they left she put her hand in her husband’s pocket. He accused her of trying to rob him, although later claimed it was a joke. Words ensued, then he pulled out a long-bladed knife and threatened to kill both his wife and the driver, Alfred Black. The driver was alarmed but offered to help when Maud said she was hurt, he offered to take her to the nursing home in Lichfield. On reaching Hanch Hall the passengers alighted, husband saying he would take care of her. It seems he took care of both of them – first cutting his wife’s neck before turning to his own and severed the windpipe. When police and doctors arrived at 9pm, two bodies were found lying in a pool of blood. He was dead, she found unconscious but when taken to Rugeley District Hospital she gave an incoherent account of events.

Maud Shipley, as she had been known, was previously married to a workman for the local council, until he met with an accident at Lichfield Isolation Hospital the previous year and had died at Birmingham Accident Hospital from his injuries. Herbert’s daughter Alice Freeman said her mother died in December 1903 and her father had had no regular employment for the last 12 months but was a good father and fed and clothed his children well. Since the fight on their wedding night there had been many quarrels. On the day in question both were taking the train from Lichfield Trent Valley to Hagley, he to seek employment in the railway track widening work, she to look for a home at Hagley as they had been given notice at Wilcox’s Entry. Inquest was adjourned until October 3rd to trace further witnesses.

When reconvening, Alfred Black said Herbert had knocked her to the floor and thrown her from the float, she appeared to be hurt. Another witness driving a car picked up the story. He saw two people near Hanch Hall apparently fighting. He raised the alarm when he discovered the woman on the ground and apparently dead, while the man was still alive. He went to Hanch Hall to summon assistance, it was they who discovered Maud had two deep cuts to her neck although Herbert had but one cut but was dead. Another witness, a labourer at the hall, described how Herbert had hit his wife twice across the face with his umbrella, words were exchanged and there was much pushing. Policeman described the spring knife as that which poachers knew as a rabbit-legger or a buck-sticker. By the time the doctor arrived the man had been dead for 1.1/2 hours. Wife had two deep wounds about 3 inches long, one from the middle of the neck to the left side of the jaw and 3/4 inch deep and opened up a similar gash in the gullet, the right side was but a scratch. She also had a blackened left eye, finger-shaped bruises on her arms and other bruises about the body and legs. The man had fingernail scratches on his arms and face. He had a 4 inch wound to the throat, deep enough to expose the back of the palate, jugular was severed and death would have come in a matter of seconds. The man was also missing a finger and thumb on the left hand but this was from an old injury. His body also showed signs of alcoholism.

Then the wife gave evidence, having recovered from her injuries. She said on the afternoon of their marriage he had tried to strangle her. Soon after had got her on the sofa and held a knife to her throat, but released her when someone tapped on the window. She maintained he was a good man with no drink in him. On August 27th he had forced her upstairs and threatened to kill her, even sleeping with the open knife in his hand should she attempt to move. When drunk he was a jealous monster, sober he complained of pains in his arms and head. The tussle was exactly as others had described, adding he grabbed her around the neck with his left arm, she could not get away, he was too strong. He pushed the knife into her throat. She collapsed and laid her down and he kissed her forehead. She awoke to see him lying three feet away to her right, the poachers knife on her left but she did not know this until later. He was clutching his throat, his face down. With some deliberation as to the location of the knife the jury delivered the verdict of suicide after attempting to murder his wife.

Herbert and Maud Freeman

We have all known couples who should never have been together. A marriage doomed from the onset or two people who should never be seen in the same room together. This is such a story. It culminates in the extraordinary events of September 4th 1911 at Hanch north of Lichfield and near the present-day golf club but had been causing much more than ripples in southern Staffordshire before then.

Herbert Freeman, aged 46, was charged with attempting to kill his wife Maud, aged 33,. They had been living at Craddock's Yard, Wilcox's Entry, Tamworth Street, Lichfield and married on August 8th 1911. To show just how big a mistake this marriage was we need look no further than the wedding reception at the Windsor Castle Inn, Lichfield. The 'happy couple' had fought and fought so bitterly and loudly the landlord had been forced to send for the police who, having failed to quieten them, arrested and charged the couple to appear before the magistrates next day.

Next month things had not improved. They were out on Cannock Chase and called at the Roe Buck Inn, Wolseley Bridge. Here they met none other than Alfred Black, a dreyman from the Lichfield Brewery Ltd, who managed to be convinced how it would be a very good idea to give them a lift back to Lichfield on the back of his float. All seemd to be proceeding surprisingly well until they reached Handsacre when Maud reached out and felt inside Herbert's pocket. He claimed she was trying to rob him, although she claimed it had been a joke. Words were exchanged and then he pulled out a long-bladed knife, threatening to kill both his wife and the driver. Alfred was understandably alarmed but offered to take them to the nearby nursing home at Lichfield when she said she was hurt. They never got further than Hanch Hall, where both passengers alighted and Albert drove away.

Later the police and a doctor travelled to Hanch Hall. Here they found the Freemans lying in a pool of blood. Both had had their throats cut, he quiet dead but she unconscious. She was taken to Rugeley District Hospital where she regained consciousness and babbled incoherently for a while. Maud Shipley, as she had previously been known, was previously married to a workman for the local council until he met with an accident at Lichfield Isloation Hospital in 1910 and died at Birmingham Accident Hospital from the resulting injuries.

Herbert's daughter Alice said at the inquest her mother had died in December 1903. Her father had had no regular employment for the last twelve months but she thought him a good father who had fed and clothed his children well. Since the fight on their wedding night she had witnessed many quarrels. On the day in question the couple had taken the train from Lichfield Trent Valley to Hagley, he seeking employment in the track widening while she looking for a home at Hagley as they had been given notice to quit Wilcox's Entry. The inquest was adjourned at this point while further witnesses were summoned.

Reconvening on October 3rd, the court heard from dreyman Alfred Black. He spoke of how Herbert had knocked his wife to the floor of the float before throwing her from it. Maud had appeared hurt but Herbert said he would take of her and he left them. Soon after a car driver stopped when he saw two people fighting near Hanch Hall. Picking up the story he spoke of how he raised the alarm when he discovered the woman on the ground, he thinking her dead, with the man still alive and he went to Hanch Hall to call for help. When the police and doctor arrived they found Maud with two deep cuts to her neck and Herbert with one deep cut severing the windpipe and he clearly dead. Another witness, an employee at the hall, described how he saw the man strike the woman twice with an umbrella, words were exchanged and both were pushing the other in an aggressive manner.

When the police officer gave evidence he identified the knife found at the scene as that know to poachers as a rabbit-legger or a buck sticker. The doctor estimated the man had been dead for around 90 minutes, the woman found to have two deep cuts about three inches in length to the side of her neck. She also sported a black eye, finger-shaped bruises to her arms, and other bruising about her arms and legs. Examining the man he found fingernail scratches to his arms and face, a four-inch wound to the throat and deep enough to expose the back of the palate, his jugular was severed and eath would have occurred in a matter of seconds. Earlier signs of alcohol abuse was found at the post mortem along with an old injury which meant he was missing a finger and thumb from one hand.

Having recovered sufficiently to give evidence, Maud Freeman took to the witness stand. She told of how, on the afternoon of their marriage, he had tried to strangle her. Later he had pinned her to the sofa with a knife at her throat, not releasing her until someone tapped on the window pane. Sober he was a good man but with drink in him a changed person. On August 27th he had forced her upstairs and threatened to kill her, even sleeping with the open knife in his hand should she attempt to move. When drunk he was a jealous and violent individual, but when sober constantly complained of pain in his arms and head.

She confirmed how that last afternoon had seen them fight as others had described. Maud added how he had grabbed her around the neck with his left arm, he was too strong for her and she could not get away. Twice he pushed the knife to her throat before laying her down and kissing her forehead whereupon she passed out. When she came around she saw him lying three feet away from her on his right side and unaware of the knife on the ground beyond him. He was clutching his throat.

The jury retired and returned to deliver their verdict. They were in no doubt the location of the knife on the far side of Herbert's body from Maud, showed beyond reasonable doubt that he had committed suicide after attempting to murder his wife.

A Bloody Tale

February 1902 and PC Williams is following his regular route around the streets of Lichfield, coming along Lombard Street at 10:40pm. It was here he saw a woman running towards him and crying out "Oh my lad, what have I done?" Being a good officer he took hold of her and took her back to investigate further. On entering the house, he discovered her husband, Frank, on the sofa in the kitchen. Blood was everywhere. Maud Shipley was arrested.

The first inquest had to be adjourned as the main witness, the victim, had been too ill to come to court. Indeed, the following week he appeared heavily swathed in bandages and looking most frail. It was then the story began to unfold. Frank Shipley had been employed by Mr Summerfield, a coal deal, as a waggoner. Leaving work he had called in to the Mitre Inn for a well-earned pint on his way home.

Arriving at his home in Lombard Street he discovered his wife to be most agitated, in an aggressive and excitable state, clearly the worse for drink and demanding money. Frank refused and turned on his heel, going out to get a shave. When he emerged from the barber's shop he was met by his wife who, once again, was demanding money and this continued as she followed him home. No sooner had he reached home than Frank went back out, this time to the Mitre Inn to fill a bottle with beer so he could drink it with his supper.

At this point the inquest heard from her sister who had spent some of the earlier part of that day with her. Indeed had seen her on a number of occassions, each time she had been complaining of a lack of money. Both she and two other women had shared their beer with Maud, eventually brining her home from the Grapes Inn where she was described as being "Half and half with the drink".

Another witness came to the stand and spoke of Maud banging on the door screaming "I will finish the bastard before the night's out". He followed her into her house to witness her picking up a knife and stabbing Frank three or four times in quick succession. She passed him by as she ran into the street, while he went to see how he could help the man who was bleeding profusely. He described Maud as being "Three sheets".

A second passer-by then entered and went back out to summon medical assistance. When the doctor gave evidence he described the scene as looking like a slaughterhouse. Mr Shipley having several wounds about the head, including a severed ear lobe, a two-inch gash across his face, and a wound to the neck.

When the case came to court the accused claimed she had acted in self-defence, that the very knife brought as evidence had been thrown at her by Frank at least twice. There was no evidence to support this claim and Maud Shipley, aged 28, was found to be guilty of the assault on her husband and sentenced to three months hard labour. This left Frank, himself still far from well, to look after their three children - the eldest five years and the youngest just two.

Blood, Blood and more Blood

The following story was reported in the Lichfield Mercury on Friday October 3rd 1817. It is a tale of quite appalling violence and grief.

On Friday 26th September 1817, a Mr Owen went to visit his married sister and her husband at their home. Admitted by their maidservant, he burst through into the kitchen where his sister and brother-in-law were enjoying their evening meal. Without saying a word he produced a large knife and launched a frenzied attack on Mr Jones. Before long he was suffering from great blood loss due to significant wounds to the head and neck.In trying to restrain Owen, Mrs Jones and the maidservant were also bleeding from wounds to their hands and arms.

With blood still dripping from down her arms, the servant ran into the street screaming for help. Passing by was a Mr Hopkins, a former sailor, and he rushed to her aid. Together they ran back into the house where they found Owen on top of Jones and continuing to slash at his brother-in-law, the victim now bleeding freely from several wounds and in particular a deep gash to the abdomen.

After a brief tussle Hopkins managed to get Owen Jones out of the room and into the street. Meanwhile inside Owen pulled a second knife and began to set about his own sister. He slashed across her forehead, plunged the blade between two ribs, and then pushed the blade into her open mouth ripped her face open to the ear and also split her tongue.

As the maid ran to her mistresses aid, Owen turned his attention to the servant, her name was Mary Berry. Fresh wounds were opened up across her arms and face. Despite severe blood loss the two women managed to get outside to the street, where neighbours took them in awaiting much-needed medical attention. Their recovery seemed unlikely.

By this time Owen had barricaded himself inside the house. Should anyone approach he threatened them with the same butchery as had befallen his sibling and other members of her household. By this time there were hundreds outside the property, including the police who were already planning to storm the building amassing a small army of volunteers. Armed with pokers, clothes-props, and assorted bludgeons - an array of unlikely weapons more often associated with a mob than a rescue party - they poured into the building through front and rear doors and windows, even using ladders to enter through upstairs windows in a co-ordinated and simultaneously assault.

Witnesses outside reported seeing Owen appear at an upstairs window, he whetting one knife against another. Knocked down by a man wielding a clothes-prop, he continued to fight back until, under the sheer weight of numbers, Owen was finally disarmed. Still he raged and struck out at his attackers despite the now severe injuries to his hands and arms.

With hands and feet tethered securely, Owen was carried from the building. A thorough search revealed the young Jones daughter still asleep in her room. She was dressed and taken to the home of a neighbour, while the injured were conveyed to the hospital of St Thomas.

In the aftermath questions were asked as to why this horror had happened. What had Owen got against Jones? What had made a man with an unblemished record and a reputation as a good husband and father initiate such a frenzied and bloody attack?

The story began some months earlier. Jones and his wife had sued for custody of both the Owen family's sons. Thinking, and likely correctly, they would have a better upbringing with their more affluent aunt and her husband, they tried to show the children were in an unstable home. After a bitter and unnecessary court hearing, it was ruled that Owen and his wife were quite capable of bringing up their sons even if they did not have the finances of the Jones household.

While the Owens were successful, the stress proved too much for Mrs Owen and she died a few weeks later. After the funeral, Owen had been taken to a friend's house where, after food and perhaps an unwise amount of drink, had gone to the home of his sister and brother-in-law in Gibraltar Row armed with two sizable knives. He never saw his two sons again.

Weaponry Etymologies

A break from the tour of the place names of the world. This time the post is a result of an overheard conversation - although my interest was a little different and not really related to their conversation save for a couple of the words.

They spoke of a friend or acquaintance in hospital, apparently they were considering paying the patient a visit. It seems he (I say 'he' even though gender was never specified) had been in an altercation (hence my assumption of 'he') and managed to get himself stabbed. It didn't seem as if it was a particularly serious injury - and his acquaintances seemed quite convinced he had always had it coming to him - and asked the question "Why knife, though?" I assume they meant "Why a knife?" and were not questioning why the assaillant had not been armed with a gun, bow, grenade, or rolling pin. Yet I found my etymological mind thinking of the answer to the question they had actually asked. Thus this time I have produced a list of weapons and examined the origins of the words.

Knife seems the sensible place to start, although it did prove to be something of a disappointment for me as the origins were uncertain. The only early forms known were from the Germanic language group: Old English cnif, Middle Low German knif, Middle Dutch cniif, German kneif, Norse knifr, and all from the Proto-Germanic knibaz. None of these mean anything other than 'knife' used solely as a noun - the earliest written use of 'knife' as a verb is found as recently as 1865. Whislt this may be disappointing in one sense, it is quite the reverse in reality for it shows the age of the word referring to what must have been one of the first words ever coined for a tool. Thus it is simply because it is so old that the earliest sense is unknown.

Blade is used as a slang term for a knife, as well as describing something with a sharp edge, and also used to refer to a leaf as in 'a blade of grass'. Amazingingly the third usage is by far the earliest. Seen in many Germanic tongues, these all come from the Proto-Germanic bladaz meaning 'leaf' and ultimately from the Proto-Indo-European bhle and bhel with the meaning 'to thrive, bloom' - ironic considering it is now used to describe a weapon.

Hilt is another part, not of a knife but of a sword or dagger. It would have followed these in the list were it not for the origins. This comes to us from Proto-Germanic helt and is ultimately from the Proto-Indo-Germanickel which oddly meant 'strike' - although this is the part which does not strike the opponent.

Sword has its origins in words which we would consider far more appropriate than that of 'blade'. Here Old English sweord, Old Frisian swerd, Old Swedish svard, Middle Dutch swaert, Dutch zwaard, Old High German swert, and German Schwert all come from Proto-Germanic swerdam which mean exactly what it does today. All these come from Proto-Indo-European swer meaning 'cut, pierce'. Just to confuse matters there is also an Old Saxon word heoru, also seen in the related Gothic hairus, both meaning 'sword' but neither etymology is understood.

Dagger came to English from Old French dague. Also seen in Old Provencal dague and Italian daga, these may have come from an early Latin daca and describe 'a Dacian knife' - Dacia being a region of Europe roughly centred on modern Romania and Moldova, with parts of Bulgaria, Serbia, Hungary and Ukraine.

Gun is first defined as 'an engine of war that throws rocks, arrows or other missiles from a tube by the force of explosive powder or other substance', this from the 14th century and also seen in gonnilde in an inventory from Windsor Castle when referring to a cannon. Both have the same origin as the woman's name Gunilda, itself from Old Norse where gunnr and hildr both meant 'war, battle' - the first from Proto-Indo-European gwhen meaning 'strike, hit' and the latter sharing an origin with the female name 'Hilda' in Proto-Indo-European kel 'to strike, cut'. Throughout history it has been normal for large weapons of war to be given female names.

Rifle, in terms of weaponry, is a fairly recent development, getting its name from the rifling of the barrel. This cutting of a spiral groove in the barrel improved accuracy by spinning the projectile in flight. The word is seen referring to this cutting much earlier than the 17th century and weaponry. By the early 14th century it was used in the sense 'to plunder', while the original Old French rifler 'strip, filch, peel off, fleece' has been adapted to describe the cutting technique. Hence we find the alternative use of rifle in English as a synonym for 'pilfer' is older than the normal sense.

Cannon is of comparatively recent origin considering the length of time the weapon has been employed in war. It comes from the Italian cannone meaning 'large tube, barrel' and ultimately from the Latin canna and suggesting this represented something similar to 'a reed' or 'tube'.

Bullet is, as we would expect, another recent development. It comes from the Middle French boulette meaning 'small ball' and is a diminutive of boule, also seen in the game, and from the Latin bulla which could be used to mean 'round thing' or 'knob'.

Arrow may be from the Old English arwan, but this was not the normal term used by the Saxons who most often described it as strael and seen in Slavic and Germanic tongues where it meant 'flash, streak'. Ultimately the 'arrow' comes from Proto-Indo-European arku where it described 'the thing belonging to the bow'.

Bow refers to its shape, coming from Old English boga, a word also used to mean 'arch' and 'rainbow'. Ultimately these can be traced to Proto-Germanic bugon 'to bend', Proto-Indo-European bheug also 'to bend', and Sanskrit bhujati 'bends, thrusts aside'.

Bazooka has only been used to refer to the weapon since 1942. This was the name of a junkyard musical instrument used by comedian Bob Burns, and is thought to have suggested itself from the American slang 'bazoo' meaning 'mouth' or 'boastful' and in turn probably from the Dutch bauzin 'trumpet'

Bayonet is first seen in the early 17th century, said to be from the city of Bayonne in Gascony where they were first made.

Cutlass came to English from Middle French, itself from the Latin cultellus 'small knife' and ultimately from the Prroto-Indo-European kel 'to cut'.

Machete is quite badly named as it is derived from the Spanish machete, itself from macho or 'sledge hammer', and that from mazo or 'club'.

Spear has changed little through the many centuries since Proto-Indo-European sper meant 'spear' and also 'pole'. The latter meaning has come to modern English as 'spar'.

Bomb is first used in its modern sense in the late 16th century. This word originated in the Latin bombus or Greek bombos both describing 'a deep hollow sound'.

Dynamite was named by its inventor, Alfred Nobel, who took the name from the Greek dynamis meaning 'power'.

Grenade was once called a 'pomegranate', likening the fragmenting bomb to the seeds of the fruit - the fruit gets its name from pomum granatum or 'apple with many seeds'.