When our recent guest Bill said the word in casual supernatural conversation, we just assumed he was referring to his collection of Victorian medical equipment. After all, most people I know just associate the word with a chilly, awkward-yet-convenient way to, ahem, open boxes.

It turns out, the word is less about the specific item on view, and more about the viewing act itself. 

The etymology of speculum

“Spek-” was the PIE root word for “to observe.” Think of words like inspect, introspection, spectrum, speculate, perspective, spectacles, respect, speculation, suspicion. All have to do with some point of view, or an observation. The sound has similar meaning in many other languages. These include spasati which means  “sees” in Sanskrit; the Greek word skopos meaning “watcher, beholder;” or the Old High German word spehhon, meaning “to spy.” But nowhere does its modern use become more obvious than Latin specere “to look at.” This word birthed the Latin speculum, or “mirror” (pl. specula). 

The magical speculum

Throughout the Middle Ages, speculum took on a number of vernacular meanings above and beyond the simple looking glass. Speculum referred to any sort of device used for insight through reflection in either a literal or figurative sense. In early medieval times, the word speculum used to refer to magical scrying devices. A black mirror, witch ball, crystal ball, or shiny polished stone are all examples of specula for scrying. 

Witch balls were in part popularized by the famous witch of Irish folklore, Biddy Early. Biddy was from County Clare, Ireland, where Diana’s ancestors emigrated from. Also where Dumbledore took Harry to search for the locket horcrux. This Irish healer famously foretold the future by gazing into a blue bottle given to her by the specter of her deceased son Tom. She also coerced an injured handsome young man into marrying her in exchange for his cure. Sounds sassy, especially when you realize she was well over 70 at the time, and had already survived at least 3 (maybe 5) husbands.

Could this be the origin of the term “old biddy?” The circumstances of the marriage were so bizarre that the press announced it. This during a time when only nobility ran marriage announcements. It probably also went a long way towards her reputation as a witch.

The insightful literary speculum

The twelfth century saw another common use for the term: insightful subjective guidebooks. Written specula were hybrid how-to guides and advice columns for various subsections of society. Basically “how to be a good _______” tracts, but with the addition of introspective philosophical reasoning. There was the Speculum virginum for nuns. Speculum ecclesiae was for clergy. And Speculum judiciale advised judges.

Even early on in the literary genre’s history, there were instances of speculum satire. My favorite reference is the Speculum stultorum. Meaning “Mirror of Fools,” this fable tells of a literal ass who accidentally starts his own lazy religious order in an attempt to grow a longer tail. An amusing story of mystical drugs, running from attack dogs, flunking at studies, and eventually returning home chastened to his master after his pointless cult dissolves, Burnellus the donkey is totally the Klaus Hargreeves of the speculum universe.

The most popular surviving speculum texts seem to be the Specula Pricipum, literally the “Mirror for Princes.” This genre of writings was the main method of disseminating political theories of the time. The documents attempted to convince monarchs (who had always had absolute power) that maybe they should think of their republic as an offshoot of themselves, and accept their own intrinsic duty to lead and care for it magnanimously. With the populace thus humanized, rulers hopefully considered democratic solutions more often and did less flippant murderin’ overall.

Of course, like almost all political writings, the supposedly educational “reflective” material guided the reader to an obvious conclusion suiting the author’s agenda. This controversial media reaches its zenith in Italian diplomat Niccolò Machiavelli’s The Prince. This particular speculum is the reason we still use the term “Machiavellian” to brand politicians as unscrupulous and tyrannical.

The medical speculum

It wasn’t until around the dawn of the Modern Age in the late 16th century that the word was first ascribed to a medical device. Specifically, a medical speculum is an “instrument for rendering a part accessible to observation.” Different models allow for viewing the inside of at least 4 different types of flesh windows.

You’re probably most familiar with the medical speculum used for spelunking the mossy cleft. Oh, and the duck bills on that one? Those are technically called “blades,” yikes.

Wait, it gets gother: the type of speculum used to examine an adult’s party taco is called the Graves speculum. This is really starting to sound like a vampire flick. Next time you visit the gynecologist, may I suggest specifically referencing these things by name in the creepiest way you can think of. Extra points for delivering deft puns and amusing feminist monologues throughout the whole problematic procedure.

So can “spectrophilia” also mean a fetish for speculums?

Perhaps, but let’s keep out of that rabbit hole. If you’re like me, I’m sure you’re mainly wondering how the etymology of “speculum” relates to the word “specter”? Well, spectrum, a Latin word closely related to speculum, means “appearance”. From there, it was just a hop, skip and a jump to a meaning like “apparition.”

Or was it? 

By some accounts, Epicurean philosopher Catius first used the Latin word spectrum as a novel translation of the Greek philosophical term εἴδωλον (eídōlon, “image”). Renaissance humanist authors apparently noticed that the Greek word eídōlon also means “apparition” or “phantom.” Writers started using the Latin spectrum thusly. The French disdain for consonants turned spectrum into spectre. English adopted both terms separately; “spectre” from French and “spectrum” from Latin. This is probably because later in the 16th century, the Latin word spectrum was finally applied to things like the visible range of colors. That’s when “spectrum” gained its current common usage in modern English. Specter was then re-adopted from the French to specifically mean “apparition.” Especially in the scary ghost sense of the word. In the US we spell it “specter” only because Webster (of dictionary fame) switched the last 2 letters in his lifelong tirade against words that end in “-re.”  

Etymology, origin, and meaning of “speculum”

The main question I have after reading all this fascinating information about the etymology of the word “speculum” is simple: will we someday create a medical speculum powerful enough to open up a human and actually view his specter while he’s alive? 

…wasn’t that what everyone was thinking? 

Because if we do, that’ll surely be a spooky day. 

Cover photo by petr sidorov on Unsplash

The post Not That Kind of Speculum appeared first on Homespun Haints.

Origin of the word “bat”

Etymonline.com cites several possible origins for the English word as it stands today. Bat comes from Middle English bakke, which likely comes from the Old Norse leðrblaka, meaning “leather flapper.” Somehow, bakke melded with Latin blatta (referring to a moth or other nocturnal insect) to become “bat.” Interestingly, the Old English word for the animal was hreremus, meaning “rattle-mouse.” Middle English ruins everything.

Way to take multiple adorable concepts and distill them down to something super boring and generic, modern English. It seems other world languages have held onto some of these original word associations, but in a much more obvious (or entertaining) manner. So, just for fun, we are going to learn how to say “bat” in several languages where the modern word is much cuter than it is in English. 

Greek

As a biology nut (you could say I’m batty for bio), I have to start with Greek. Bats are in the order Chiroptera, which means “hand-wing” in Greek. I am therefore surprised to inform you that that is not the modern Greek word for “bat.” Rather, “bat” in Greek is νυχτερίδα (nychterída). From núkteros, “nocturnal” and pteridae, for “winged.” Any thoughts about why we gave them a different scientific name, when there was already a perfectly good Greek word for them, Greek-speakers?

Portuguese

Morcego, from the Old Portuguese mur (mouse) + cego (blind). “Blind mouse” makes sense, as bats rely on echolocation since they mostly see infrared light. Plus, they do kind of look like a frightened farmer’s wife cut their tails off. This is the origin of the Spanish murciélago, which I’d always thought had something to do with bats swooping low over a lake (lago) to sip water and catch insects (I’m too much of a romantic for Romance languages, I guess?).

German

Fledermaus. “Fleder” is from an old form of the German word “flattern” which means “flutter.” Literally, flutter-mouse! Awwwwwwww!

Russian

летучая мышь (letuchaya mysh’), which means “volatile mouse.” We’re seeing a trend on the mouse theme. Both (bats and mice) have snuck into my house. I can attest that the bat was a significantly more volatile roommate. In this case, however, I suppose they mean volatile like it used to be used (“flying,” related to the Latin word we all know from the classic Italian song “Nel Blu Dipinto di Blu (Volare).” Happenstantially, that official song title translates to “In the blue-painted blue,” which of course reminds us of Haint Blue painted porch ceilings.

(Speaking of volatile roommates, check out our episodes The Forsaken Flatmate and Korean Folklore, Death Days, and the Haunted Queens Apartment to learn about squatters of the ethereal kind.)

Estonian

Nahkhiir. Pretty straightforward: nahk is “leather/skin,” hiir is “mouse.” Skin mouse?? Ok, I see where you’re going, but what a mental image, oy.

Thai

ค้างคาว (káng-khāo) which describes an animal that ค้าง (káng) “stays put” (in the daytime, ’cause ya know, it’s nocturnal) and คาว (khāo) “smells gamey,” as bat guano does. But if you mistranslate the root words just a little, the compound word could also refer to a lingering fishy stink. It doesn’t, but also it kinda might.

Mandarin Chinese

蝙蝠 (Biānfú), both complete characters of which are only ever used in the word “bat.” Or describing batlike things, like batwing-sleeved dress. Chinese etymology works completely differently than Western etymology, in that each character conveys a meaning, rather than a pronunciation. The same character generally means the same concept in various dialects/languages, but can sound very, VERY different.

Root characters for “bat” include 扁, which basically means flat, modified by the radical for insect. Also 富 which means “rich.” It is part of the word fortune (aka good fortune), and also modified by the radical for insect. Because in Mandarin “fortune” also sounds like “fú” you could say the word 蝙蝠 literally translates as “flat insect of fortune.”

Due to the similarities in writing and the homonym, bats are traditionally a lucky symbol in China. This also seems completely different from the western interpretation of bats as spooky creatures of misfortune. I’m with you on this one, China. Bats eat mosquitoes, which is indeed fortunate, even if you’re not goth.

Honorable mentions for cute literal meaning/origin of the word “bat”

• French: chauve-souris, or “bald mouse”
• Italian: pipistrello, or “overcoat with a sleeveless cape”
• Korean: 박쥐 (bagjwi), or “bright-eyed rat”
• Maltese: frfett il-lejl, or “butterfly of the night”
• Swahili: popo (also associated with an evil spirit of folklore)
• Māori: pekapeka (homonym with “branchy,” “visitor,” and several other branchy things which might visit you, like starfish and weeds)
• Shona: chiremwaremwa (I’m curious if this is related to the word “monster?”)
• Kazakh: жарғанат (jarğanat)
• Lao: ເຈຍ (chia) (homonym with “paper”)

Do you speak a language where the word “bat” is more interesting than it is in English? What’s your favorite word for “bat?” Please let me know by commenting in our Facebook Group, or on Patreon, and I’ll add it to this fun etymology lesson about bats.

Header image copyright Craig on Adobe Stock.

The post Etymology for Goth Polyglots: Bats!!! appeared first on Homespun Haints.