chlamydia and chlamys and chandler and chandelier and candela and canescent

I mentioned earlier that I loved the canorousness of the Latin words coming into English and derived from candela--the simple tallow candle. Actually, it all goes back to the simple candela; all, that is relating to candles and glowing and heat and age and whiteness. Let's show how this happened. In addition to candela, you have a candelabrum which, to no one's surprise, is a candelabrum in English. Then, the verb candeo means "to shine" or "to be white, gleam white," or "to be or become hot." In the three renderings of this verb are all the branching usages. Something candicans is white and something candidarius is something that makes white (bread, implied). A candidatus is a candidate for an office, whose name is taken from the custom of whitening the toga during candidacy. Then candidus is something which is bright or white or fair-skinned or clear and, by extension to the moral realm, can be morally pure or innocent and, with respect to writings or writers, "clear, lucid, unambiguous." Candor is the Latin word for whiteness or fairness of complexion or, morally speaking, kindness or moral purity. In a writer, candor means clearness or lucidity. Caneo means to be white or grey with age, while canesco, the inchoate form of the verb, means to grow white or grey with age. Thus, the idea behind it all is the light or whiteness or glow given off by a candle. If you can measure all the features of the glow, you can exhaust the richness of caneo and candela.

Moving on to the Chandler

English has the word chandler, which originally meant a stand or support for a candlestick [i.e., a "chandelier" was a "chandler"], but it became associated in the 14th century with the person whose trade it is to make or sell candles. You had "tallow-chandlers" and "wax chandlers." I wonder if it was during one of the first political fights between these two professions that one called the other a drip. By the late 16th century, however, it could be extended to a retail dealer in provisions or groceries of any kind and then, shortly therafter, became a "somewhat contemptuous" term, as the OED says. From the 19th century we have two quotations: "Another steps into the chandler's shop, to purchase a pound of butter," and, from Charles Dickens, "The neighbors stigmatised him as a chandler."

Finishing Up on Pages 206-222

I pause on chiondoxa, not because anyone has ever made any big deal of the name of this flower, but because I love the word. It means "glory of the snow," and pictures of it are all over the Internet. Actually there are two species of chiondoxa, which are probably two more than you want to know about, but the flower is a beautiful bluish white Spring bloomer. I rather wish there were more English words beginning with "chion:" the only ones I found were connected with animal or plant species, though the Century maintained that the chimera, the ancient mythological monster, got its name because it was the personification of the snow. Arizona is full of "snow birds"--those people from Minnesota and elsehwere who only go there in the winter. Why not give them a new name? The chionpterrabagoes or something like that? The possibilities are endless, but we will leave it here for now.

Let's get to chlamys. The nearest word to this that most people know is chlamydia, venereal disease. I always like it when young people know multi-syllabic words which they otherwise wouldn't know unless they were in some kind of difficulty. For example, many people without a high-school education know the words "detoxification" and "deinstitutionalization," and most people behind bars have quite some acquaintance with Latin terms, especially habeas corpus. Chlamydia is also known by many people who really don't have a good command of English. Since I am a great supporter of everyone learning words, I am happy about this.

Actually, a chlamys is "a short oblong mantle worn by young men of ancient Greece." The Greek word is chlamus, and it only gives rise to a few other "chlam"-words. It can be a civilian's mantle, a military cloak or a garment worn by ephebes. The Latin equivalent is paludamentum, though the Latin word is derived from palus, a swamp, and I am not sure what the connection is between the terms. Maybe the wearers of the garment were accustomed to the more unappealing military duties--hanging out in the swamps. The ancient Greek knows no meaning of the term chlamys having to do with disease. The term chlamys is attested in English by the OED in 1748 (the Collegiate has 1699, but with no quotation), but chlamydia does not enter the language until 1945. When it does so it is a "virus-like bacterium of the genus Chlamydia....causing numerous diseases (as...genital infections..)." The genus Chlamydia has three species: C. psittaci (bird diseases); C. trachomatis, of which venereal disease is an exemplum, and C. pneumoniae. I bet that Linneaus, or whoever named the species, did so because it looked like a little mantle worn by young men of ancient Greece. Pictures drive life.

That the word chlamydia only arose in 1945 is quite astonishing to me. By the time I got to college in 1970 everyone seemed to be talking about it, with the word rolling off tongues like nursery rhymes from the lips of preschool teachers. But the reason for its invention is mentioned in the 1945 OED quotation: "Evidence has accumulated serving to separate this group from the true viruses and place it in a position between the bacteria and the viruses, analogous to the Rickettsiae, with the name Chlamydia." There you have it.

And there we are. Out of space once again. Thanks for joining me.

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