The Story of English in 100 Words (9 page)

an impolite word (11th century)

Arse
wasn’t an impolite word when it first arrived in English. It simply meant an animal’s rump, and we see it recorded in writing, from around the year 1000, in all kinds of straight-faced settings, such as glossaries, poems and scholarly works. A 14th-century writer tells us solemnly that ‘haemorrhoids are fine veins that stretch out at the arse’. And in the 16th century the word even turns up as part of a sermon: ‘How arseward [i.e., perverse] a thing it is for every man to be given to his own profit,’ says the preacher. No hint of vulgarity here.

But things didn’t stay that way. It was inevitable that, as soon as the word began to be used for the human posterior, the association with animals and with excrement would turn it into a ‘dirty word’. We can sense this when we see people searching for a more polite expression. We find
bum
and
buttock
in the 14th century, the latter soon shortened to
butt
, which later became popular in the USA.
Backside
appeared in the 16th century and
posterior
soon after. The high regard for politeness in 18th-century society led to several alternatives –
bottom
and
behind
, as well as the scientific
gluteus maximus
and the fastidious
derrière
. In the USA, the 19th century introduced a genteel pronunciation,
ass
. And as the politer terms increased, so did the rudeness level of
arse
.

An early development was the application of
the word to a whole person.
Heavy arse
, meaning a lazy fellow, is recorded in the 1500s. In Britain and Ireland it became a slang name for a fool – a usage which proved very popular in the 20th century, when comments such as
I made a right arse of myself
were increasingly heard. The verb also became widespread: to
arse about/around
is a ruder version of
fool about/around
.

The last century also saw the word becoming popular in the British Isles as an exclamation. On its own (
Arse!
), it’s used as an expression of annoyance, a little stronger than
Damn!
and very much stronger than
Oh no!
In the form
my arse!
it’s a scornful rejection of opinion – a ruder version of
Nonsense!
and more focused, as it’s usually attached to words that the other person has said. ‘You seem a bit nervous,’ says A. ‘Nervous my arse!’ ripostes B. That’s quite a strong comment. Anyone wanting to retain the force but avoid the rudeness could substitute
My foot!

Arse
is one of the ‘taboo words’ of English, whose role is so important in everyday speech that, despite the controversy they arouse, they need to be well represented in any word-list. But it’s important to appreciate that attitudes to taboo words vary greatly over time and place. There are huge differences of opinion over just how rude a word like
arse
is.

Several expressions have retained their force, such as when a person is described as being pretentious (
He’s up his own arse
) or is given a contemptuous rejection (
Kiss my ass!
,
Up your ass!
), and compounds
such as
arse-licking
and
arsehole
are widely accepted as pretty rude. On the other hand, intensifying expressions such as
boring the arse off someone
(being extremely boring) or
working my arse off
(working extremely hard) are less so. The younger you are, of course, the less these usages will make you turn the slightest hair.

Many people find the force of
arse
reduced when used in phrases, and may not consider such 20th-century expressions as
arse-over-tip
(‘head over heels’) or
arse about face
(‘back to front’) as being rude at all. The same applies to some of its uses as a verb, such as
I arsed up my essay
. And the word almost loses its identity in
arsie-versie
or
arsy-varsy
(‘upside down’, ‘backside foremost’), which was popular in the 1500s and still heard today. It was a jocular adaptaton of
vice versa
(
versa
being pronounced ‘varsa’ in the 16th century).

Part of the uncertainty is that usage varies around the English-speaking world. The replacement of
arse
by
ass
in American English, universally encountered through US films and television programmes, has resulted in both forms becoming used in British English. A Brit who would never say
arse
in polite conversation might well use the intensifying
I was working my ass off
or talk about someone as being a
smart-ass
. And the unusual expression
ass-backward(s)
, meaning ‘completely wrong, back-to-front’, has achieved a wider presence too, especially after Thomas Pynchon played around with it in
Gravity’s Rainbow
(1974). What’s unusual about it,
as one of his characters says, is that the ass already faces backwards, so if the expression means ‘wrong way round’ it should really be
ass-forwards
. But what seems to be happening here is the development of a new, intensifying usage, meaning ‘very’, heard also in some other slang phrases, such as
ass o’clock
(as in
I gotta get up at ass o’clock tomorrow
, i.e. ‘very very early’).

We have to be especially careful when it comes to the adjective
arsy
. In Britain, the word means ‘bad-tempered’ or ‘arrogant’, as in
We get the occasional arsy customer in here
. In Australia, the word has developed a positive meaning, ‘lucky’:
That was an arsy goal
. It’s wise to pay special attention to who’s speaking before deciding what to make of
You’re an arsy bastard!

Swain

a poetic expression (12th century)

It’s strange how some words end up only in poetry. Sometimes the reason is to do with the need to keep a particular rhythm in a line – so, if you’re looking for a word with a single beat, you can turn
over
into
o’er
,
ever
into
e’er
and
often
into
oft
. But with such words as
lea
(
§2
),
dewy
,
dusky
and
darksome
, which would be highly unlikely to be heard in everyday speech, it’s not at all clear why poets fell in love with them. The story of
swain
, meaning ‘lover’ or ‘sweetheart’, is one of the strangest, for there’s nothing in its origins to
suggest that one day it would become a poet’s word. On the contrary. In Old English, a
swan
(pronounced ‘swahn’) looked after pigs (
swine
).

The word began its journey towards a more refined life in the early Middle Ages. Any young man who held a low social position could be called a
swain
– but, as today, some low positions were higher than others. In particular, the word was used for one of the servants of a knight – the lowest level, below a squire and a groom, but still a desirable career for a young lad. Gradually,
swain
came to be applied to any man who was an attendant or follower, and then it broadened in meaning. When Chaucer describes Sir Thopas as a
doughty swayn
, he means simply ‘valiant man’, and when in one of the York Mystery plays Jesus is described as a
litill swayne
, the writer means only ‘little boy’.

But then another association developed, with shepherds and farm labourers, and this is the one that appealed greatly to poets. In Spenser’s
Fairy Queen
(Book III, Canto VI, Stanza 15) we can see the romantic countryside associations beginning to build up: ‘the gentle shepherd swains, which sat / Keeping their fleecy flocks’. By the end of the 16th century, a
swain
had become a country wooer. There was even a short-lived derived form,
swainling
, which was sometimes also used for women.

Poetic diction is an important element in the history of vocabulary, but it isn’t as popular now as it once was. Today the language of the streets
provides most of the lexicon of poetry. We won’t find many modern poets using such words as
swain
. But Modern English does retain a couple of echoes of the early ‘dogsbody’ meaning of the word, in an unexpected place – the world of boats. The original pronunciation has been lost, but the old word is there in the spelling of
boatswain
and
coxswain
.

Pork

an elegant word (13th century)

Why does
foie gras
sound so much more palatable than
goose liver
, or
boeuf bourguignon
more romantic than
beef stew
? The tradition of preferring French words to English ones in menus has a history which dates from the Middle Ages. The Anglo-Saxons would have eaten
sheep
,
pig
,
cow
and
calf
; but these words were evidently too crude to satisfy the fastidious manners of the newly arrived French court.

During the early Middle English period, a new set of words became established as the gourmet’s norm. People now ate
mutton
,
pork, beef
and
veal
. The recipe books of the period are full of French words. Here is the beginning of one of them – a 14th-century recipe for fig tartlets. The French words are underlined:

Tourteletes
in
fryture
. Take
figus
& grynde hem
smal; do þerin
saffron
&
powdur
fort
.
Close
hem in
foyles
of dowe, &
frye
hem in
oyle
.

Tartlets in fritter (batter). Take figs and grind them small; put therein saffron and strong powder (spice). Wrap them in foils (layers) of dough and fry them in oil.

You wouldn’t get far in the kitchen without French. The only cookery words that are Old English are
grind
and
dough
.

Although
pork
started out within the language of elegant cuisine, its subsequent history was less salubrious. Already in the Middle English period the adjective
porkish
was being used as a rude description of fat (‘piglike’) people. An obese or greedy person might be called a
porkling
.
Porky
came later, in the 18th century, for anything or anyone resembling a pig, and it became the normal insult for someone noticeably overweight. Warner Bros reclaimed the phrase somewhat when the stuttering cartoon character Porky Pig was introduced in the
Looney Tunes
series in the 1930s. But the general trend was in the opposite direction.
Pork
continued to pick up negative associations.

In the 20th century, the process continued when Cockney rhyming slang made
pork pie
a substitute for
lie
.
Porky pie
was used in the same way, and by the 1980s this had been shortened to
porky
. ‘Don’t tell such porkies,’ someone might say. It is a euphemism, humorously softening the force of
lie
.

But the ultimate fall from grace came when
pork
began to be used for the penis in American slang of the 1930s. How did that change come about? The origin seems to lie in the 17th century. The implements used by pig slaughtermen were colloquially called
pigstickers
, and this term soon became slang for any kind of sharp implement, especially when used as a weapon. The association with pigs led to
porker
becoming a slang term for a sword. And the obvious parallels in shape and language (such as
sword thrusts
) led to both
pork
and
pork sword
being used for the male appendage. The French courtiers would have been horrified.

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