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“The Triumph of Death,” Pieter Bruegel the Elder, circa 1562, oil on canvas, Museo del Prado, Madrid, Spain. In the detail shown, a distraught, dying king vainly holds his royal sceptre and raises a palsied arm to stop a skeleton from looting his gold coins. Behind the regal presence, another skeleton holds up an hourglass to mock his kingly demise.

 

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Swag, Pelf, Lucre & Raven:

Words for Dishonest Gain & Ill-gotten Goods

Swag

I love the sound of the word swag, with its sonic burden of heavy golden boodle distending a thief’s fat sack as he scurries away under the muffling quilt of night. Farewell, my silver teaspoons!

This bold word for plunderer’s booty seems Scandinavian in origin. Actually it is an instance of two separate words blending. Swag is directly related to sway which verb contains echoes of other verbs, namely both weigh and sway. Swag weighs down a thief’s coin-rich bag and makes it sway? Possibly. There are Norwegian dialect words like svagga and svaga ‘to sway.’ And most English speakers know Australia’s national song, “Waltzing Matilda” and the happy hobo of its opening lyrics, who packs his sleeping bag and other total worldly belongings in a swag and hits the road:

Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong
Under the shade of a coolibah tree,
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled
“Who’ll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?”

Pelf

It means ‘stolen goods, obscene riches, filthy lucre.” This terse relative of the words pilfer and pilferer is one of my cherished monosyllabic nouns. The clawed hand of a miser’s clutch grasps the word itself. Yes, I hold it to my word-heart much as a toothless beldam, alive but embalmed in black bombazine, might press a dead lapdog to her withered dugs and force a niece to pry the defunct mutt from obstinate yellowed fingers. Pelf has been lurking around since the Norman Conquest. In Anglo-Norman it was pelfre ‘ill-gotten boodle,’ perhaps an altered version of felpe, ferpe, frepe, ancient French words for ‘old clothes, rags.’

Happily do I quote a Canadian writer, E. J. Pratt, who wrote in Towards the Last Spike “At least they knew His personal pockets were not lined with pelf, Whatever loot the others grabbed.”

 

Two Obsolete Synonyms for Plunder

1. Direption came into fifteenth-century English from its proximate etymon, a French form, la direption, itself borrowed from a classical Latin noun direptio, direptionis ‘a laying waste, a tearing down.’ At first in English, direption was a military term that meant ‘sacking a town;’ then, like many nouns of destruction, it gained semantic amplitude, and came to refer to pillaging on a broader scale, such as the laying waste of an entire country.

2. Reiving and to reive are active and frequent in current Scottish English. The agent noun was given briefly renewed life in World English by its use in the title of William Faulkner’s last novel, published in 1962, The Reivers. It was made into a fair-to-middlin’ movie starring Steve McQueen.

To reave is related to the commoner English verb to rob, itself cognate with Modern German rauben and Dutch roven ‘to steal, to plunder, to despoil,’ their ultimate Proto-Indo-European etymon the same base as Latin rumpere ‘to break’ and Sanskrit rúpyati ‘it really hurts.’ The Oxford English Dictionary cites this tasty March 1999 quotation from a Scottish newspaper, The Glasgow Herald: “To have a team called the Edinburgh Reivers is nonsense, as nobody from Edinburgh ever reived.”

Reive is a popular verb to use in rhyming verb phrases, verbs coupled for semantic intensification, e.g. to rob and reive, to reive and ravage, robbed and reft and left for dead.

To Raven

Although nowadays in current English we only know its present-participial adjective in phrases like ‘ravening hunger’ and ‘ravenous greed,’ to raven is a very old verb which flourished in sixteenth-century English (and perhaps two hundred years earlier) as a commonplace in legal documents, for example, from 1513 CE “his movable goods were spoiled and ravened among the King’s officers.” To raven meant to seize property and divide it as spoils among other people. For two or three hundred years, a cliché was the double verb phrase ‘to spoil and raven.’

 

Etymology & Semantics

Some form of the root appears to have arrived from France during the Norman invasion of England (1066 and all that). In twelfth-century French, we find raviner ‘to stream, to rush’ and later in Middle French raviner means ‘to furrow the earth with gullies,’ hence our English borrowing ravine.

To raven has a secondary meaning of ‘to plunder.’ The soldiers swept over the countryside ransacking everything, marauding, ravening for plunder. This seems a cogent expansion of meaning: from furrowing by gully to robbing and rampaging for booty like violent floods of water.

The current most common usage of to raven is likewise old. It meant to feed greedily, to eat and devour like an animal, by the sixteenth century. The clustering sharks ravened on the dead whale. Wolves raven passive sheep.

 

Other Terms, Similar But Not Necessarily Synonymous:

Boodle, bootlegging, booty, burglary, contraband, counterfeiting, despoiling, dough, gain, goods, graft, hot goods, haul, loot, marauding, pickings, pillage, piracy, plunder, poaching, rapine, raven, ransacking, ravaging, robbery, sacking, smuggling, spoils, spoliation, swag, the take, takings, theft and trafficking.

 

 

Lucre

In current English, only with a depreciative meaning, lucre is immorally obtained profit, obscene gain at the expense of others. Entering English from French lucre, our word began as Latin lucrum ‘wages, reward,’ cognate with Greek apolauein ‘to enjoy the fruits of conquest’ and with the modern German noun der Lohn ‘wages, pay.’

Let me now employ the word in an illustrative sentence: The tar-sands oil executive wallowed in the greasy lucre of his wealth, bobbing upon the surface of his Calgary Hills swimming pool like a bloated porpoise, a subtle smile of smug contentment crinkling his fetid lips, as poison clouds drifted past, so far above the pleasantly buoyant mogul as to be not worthy of his observation.

 

One Really Obscure Booty Word

I like to provide loyal readers with the occasional gem of verbal rarity. Among the swag-pelf words, the rarest of all is the adjective manubial, a word blistered in wrongful conduct, a word all gooey with the mucilage of iniquity. You just know that any object introduced into one’s yawning coffers by manubial acquisition was obtained through evil acts.

Manubial

The adjective manubial describes booty taken in war. Manubial enters English directly from classical Latin manubiae ‘a general’s share of the spoils of war.’ With blunt greed, the Latin word literally means “what one can get one’s hands on,’ because the compound term is made up of Latin manus ‘hand’ + some shrunken suffixal morpheme of Latin habere ‘to have, to hold.’

Surprisingly this rare word is still in print and used by classicists writing in English about the Roman republic and the early days of the Augustan empire.

As a stylist always on the qui vive for a fresh word of abuse, I would not be above slipping the noun itself into some analysis of do-bad American bankers, as they finger their manubiae aboard the two-hundred-foot yacht bound out for Fiji. May the Good Ship Larceny founder — with all hands on cash.

 

Copyright 2012 © William Gordon Casselman

 

 

Further Reading

 

1. How Beaver Became a Dirty Word

 

2. Asbestos: Shame of Prime Minister Harper!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Any comments, additional word lore or book orders?

Please email me at

wordguy@shaw.ca

 

Reviews of my Book

Click bookcover for preview

Jenni French of San Francisco, California writes on her blog "My Corner of the Universe" for March 19, 2011:

Casselman, Bill. Where a Dobdob Meets a Dikdik: A World Lover's Guide to the Weirdest, Wackiest, and Wonkiest Lexical Gems. Avon, MA: Adams Media, 2010.


"I admit it: I'm a word nerd. I love words: weird words, long words, obscure words, funny words.  This book is right up my alley.  With chapters like "Nautical Words," "Creepy Words," and "Edible Words," I have enjoyed every page of this book.  And the author has quite a way with words, so I have found myself rereading many sentences in this book and slowing my progress through it.  My current favorite sentence is found in a discussion of dog hybrid breed names: "What a revolting concatenation of cutesiness and smarmy nomenclatorial treacle parading under the name of canine hybrid breed names" (19). I'm sure I'll have another favorite sentence in a day or two.  This book is just that good and just that entertaining."

Author Bill Casselman replies: "Thanks, Jenni!"

Just a reminder that this book contains my ALL-NEW word essays, none of which are available anywhere else in print or online.

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A Great New Review of My Latest Book!

October 26, 2011 Welcome to the Enchanted ForestBy WB Johnston

This review is about Bill Casselman’s latest e-book about words: Where a Dobdob Meets a Dikdik: A Word Lover’s Guide to the Weirdest,Wackiest, and Wonkiest Lexical Gems (Kindle Edition)

“Wade Davis, lately of National Geographic, once described each living language as “an old-growth forest of the human spirit.” Once you decide to enter the kleptomaniacal woods of our mother tongue, what you need is more than a tour guide. This is no Disney-fied ‘keep-your-hands-inside-the-car-at all-times’, point A to point B, clear-cutting mining of language. You, here, are in the hands of Sir William of Cassel, a genuine shaman modestly posing as a simple lover of words.

In the best of the spiritual tradition, Bill is the shape-shifter who constantly leads you to all the places you need to find in your soul. Every page is a new country, an invitation to an excursion into the wonderland of rich connections with the myriad of sources of what so often we unthinkingly wield as a prosaic tool.

Pay absolutely no attention to anyone who tells you that this book is anything but pure gold. It’s simply not true, sadly, that all the world loves a lover. Particularly someone whose love is so boundless.

But Sir William is fearless. You don’t earn your keep as a medicine man if you have a thin skin. While I cannot for the life of me understand how anyone could walk away from this book unmoved by its wit, its wisdom and the beautiful transparency by which the author celebrates the glorious romp of our almost unlimited linguistic exuberance, I have to sadly conclude that once in a while, you do meet someone who can’t see the forest for the trees, eh?

Read this book. Leave it on the sofa instead of the $%#!*$% TV remote. Maybe someone you care about will pick it up, even just for a moment, and fall in love with their heritage? Leave it on your desk at work and trust that someone will riffle through it when you are out at lunch. Shamans are magicians of the highest order. The work of their hands and hearts is game-changing. Or, hey, put it on your Kindle and just feel comforted that you can wander back out into the forest with Bill even in the middle of a boring lecture.

Enjoy.”

Casselman replies: Thank you so much, Dr. J., for the kudos.

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Cindy Lapeña on her blog "Creativity Unlimited" of July 19 ,2011, writes:

Posted by mimrlith in 365 Things to Look Forward to.
Tags: 365 things to look forward to, books, reading
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19. Starting a book

To a certified bibliophile like me, a.k.a. bookworm, one of the most exciting things to look forward to is to start reading a new book. In fact, sometimes the prospect of starting to read a new book is so exciting that I have to hurry to finish the book I am currently reading, just so I can start a new one. If there’s one thing I can’t resist, it’s a book, especially if it promises to be a good one. Of course there are certain books I just won’t touch or be seen with, but at the risk of being hung by my thumbs by fans of such literature, I will not mention any genres in particular. . . Seeing a book with a title that totally captivates me, like Where a Dobdob meets a Dikdik (yes, that is a book title!) has me so worked up, I just can’t wait to dive in. I imagine all sorts of deliciously fancifully outrageous words with a title like that. Is it obvious? I just love books on words. You won’t believe how many dictionaries I own. Or books on lexical oddities and other lexical explorations. Yes, I am a logophile of sorts. I love the new words I pick up from new books. I relish finding out the meanings of all manner of words and phrases and expressions. What could be more fun?"

(Replies author Bill Casselman: Please scroll to bottom of page or click here to link to a free seven-page preview of my new book, Where a Dobdob Meets a Dikdik.

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Testimonial Email

Thursday, February 3, 2011 Dear Mr. Casselman,
A search for the origins of an improbable-looking word, paraprosdokian, led me to the first piece of your prose I have had the pleasure of reading, "The Bogus Word Paraprosdokian & Lazy Con Artists of Academe." I have just placed an order for Where a Dobdob Meets a Dikdik, Canadian Words & Sayings, and As The Canoe Tips, and will add more of your titles as I finish these.

I have just retired from a 40-plus year career in book publishing, the last thirty years spent as director/editor of a number of university presses, attempting to sort the genuine writers from the "Lazy Con Artists of Academe." Sad to say, the latter have so over-bred the former that I could no longer see the rare gem in the avalanches of offal that daily swamped my office and desk. I visited your website and spent far too long there; it was a pleasure to meet a real writer through his work.. . . I revisited the paraprosdokian page, and have finally quit laughing again at “Casselman's Conclusion.” You were not unkind to the "profligate prof-lets." During my years as an acquisitions editor, in rejection letters I often quoted Prof. Moses Hadas, classicist at Columbia University, who wrote a young scholar in response to having been sent the prof-let's first book, "Thank you for sending me your book. I will waste no time reading it."

I know I will enjoy your books. Keep up the good work.
Thank you,
Luther Wilson
Director (Retired)
University of New Mexico Press, among others

 

 

 

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