Weird Glamour

I was recently speaking with a friend about words. Not word history or etymology per se, but about finding deeper, more essential meanings to words and using words with these meanings in mind. Doing so would, of course, involve some etymological knowledge. But then comes the application of the word's history to the word today, even if the original meanings have been lost to the English-speaking population in general. So I'd say we were enjoying more than mere word history, yes?

The conversation began over the word melancholy, both of us wondering if its history would lend any deeper significance than the mere depression and Byronic hero sense it for the most part carries today. Upon investigation, I am sorry to report that melancholy has never quite meant more than merely "having too much black bile."

Well, moving along, one of my favourite words to which I apply this procedure, if you will (I have no idea what to call this in one term??), as I told my friend, is the word weird. It's a good, solid, Anglo-Saxon word, and being one who has a (not so) secret love affair with the English language, that love intensifying the farther back you go, I can say that you almost couldn't get a better truly English word which has survived from before Old English to the present day. Ask the average person today what they would say weird means and I'll bet they would say something along the lines of "strange, odd, uncanny" and similar things. It is the rare person who picks up on the word's roots and can sense (even if they don't know) a deeper significance in it.

The OED gives the etymology of weird (in its nominal form, the adjectival form being a later development) as such: it goes back directly to Old English wyrd, a feminine noun. This word is cognate with Old Saxon wurd (pl. wurdi), Old High German wurt, Old Norse urðr. And it comes from the weak grade of the stem werþ-, warþ-, wurþ-to become. The OED's definition of the word retains the original sense which is for the most part lost on Modern English speakers: "1. The principle, power, or agency by which events are predetermined; fate, destiny, including magical power or enchantment. 2. The Fates, the three goddesses supposed to determine the course of human life. 3. That which is destined or fated to happen to a particular person, etc.; what one will do or suffer; one's appointed lot or fortune, destiny." A couple of other related meanings are also given. I love this word, as I have said, and I love it because of its rich history and how it semantics has shifted over time. So whenever I hear, read, or speak this word, I keep in mind its history, its etymology (quite literally, its "truth"); and I tend not to use it lightly. For me, when things are weird, they may be strange, but they are also somehow destined to occur. On a similar note, I don't believe in coincidences--take from that what you will.

We have looked at weird, but what of glamour? Certainly I did not title this post "Weird Glamour" just for fun. Well, actually, I suppose I am having fun... Another of my favourite words to consider carefully the use of and keep in mind the history of is indeed glamour. While note pure Anglo-Saxon as is weird, glamour has a sinister history which has always intrigued me. Most Modern English speakers would define glamour as "attractiveness, allure," or something similar. I have a hard time pinning down the "current" meaning myself, as I am always drawn to it roots.

The OED gives the etymology of glamour as such: it goes back to Scottish/Scots, introduced into the literary language by Sir Walter Scott. The word is itself a corrupt form of grammar; for the sense see gramarye (and French grimoire). The OED's first two definitions of glamour retain the word's original sense and connection to grammar: "Magic, enchantment, spell; esp. in the phrase to cast the glamour over one. 2. A magical or fictitious beauty attaching to any person or object; a delusive or alluring charm." With this in mind, I think it would be beneficial to take a quick look at the etymology and "original" definitions of grammar as well. The good ol' OED tells us that it entered English from Old French gramaire, itself an irregular semipopular adoption of Latin grammatica, itself adopted from Greek γραμματική 'of or pertaining to letters or literature,' ultimately from the root γράϕειν 'to write.' The Greek and Latin words denoted the methodical study of literature. It is in the Middle Ages that French gramaire was used to denote occult sciences, as (disclaimer: according to the OED!) the study of Latin, and thus learning in general was popularly supposed to include magic and astrology. And so, in corrupted form, this sense was transferred to the English word glamour. With this sense buried in the heart of glamour, I also use the word deliberately, and with care. It has enchanted me.

I guess I have a certain respect for words, and I would hate for their origins and their stories to be lost. We are a rare type, who enjoys words as I do, but I have been lucky enough to know a few who will, at the very least, attentively listen while I speak of my love for words! Considering the above discussion, might you agree that at least some words have a weird glamour to them?--their stories giving them a sense of purpose, a beginning and (in some cases) an end, and in the case of words with particularly rich histories a sheen that begs the perceptive to inquire into their past.