British royal household, such as Groom of the Chamber.
So, at the end of the Middle English period, when guma was disappearing, groom, meaning ‘man’, would have been a natural replacement. And thus we have the modern form, which basically means nothing more than ‘bride’s man’.
The history of English has many examples of this kind of development — what is called ‘popular’ or ‘folk’ etymology. When people encounter an unfamiliar word, they often try to make sense of it by relating it to a word they already know. And if enough people make the same guess, the new formation can become part of the language. We see popular etymology operating again when we button-hole people: we’ve quite forgotten that originally what we were doing was ‘button-holding’ them. And it’s there when we jocularly call asparagus ‘sparrow-grass’.
15. Arse — 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 derriere. 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!
16. 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
