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By Anatoly Liberman
Dozens of words have not been forgotten only because Shakespeare used them. Scotch (as in scotch the snake), bare bodkin, and dozens of others would have taken their quietus and slept peacefully in the majestic graveyard of the Oxford English Dictionary but for their appearance in Shakespeare’s plays. Aroint would certainly have been unknown but for its appearance in Macbeth and King Lear. From the speech of the first witch (Macbeth III, opening scene): “A sailor’s wife had chestnuts in her lap, / And munch’d and munch’d and munch’d.—‘Give me,’ quoth I: / ‘Aroint thee, witch!’ the rump-fed ronyon cries.” And in King Lear Edgar, pretending to be mad (III. 4, 129), also says “Aroint thee.”
The origin of aroint has been the object of an intense search. In 1874 Horace H. Furness, the editor of the variorum edition of Shakespeare, knew almost everything said about the word, but he offered a dispassionate survey of opinions without comments. Very long ago, in Cheshire, rynt, roynt, and runt were recorded. Milkmaids in those quarters would say “rynt thee to a cow, when she is milked, to bid her get out of the way.” The phrase meant “stand off.” “To this the cow is so well used that even the word is sufficient.” Rynt you, witch as part of the proverbial saying rynt you, witch, said Besse Locket to her mother turned up in a provincial dictionary published in 1674, approximately sixty years after Macbeth and King >Lear were written. The lady whom Robert Nares, the author of an 1822 glossary of obscure words, consulted added: “…the cow being in this instance more learned than the commentators on Shakespeare.” The taunt missed its target: philologists are not cows, and neither the lady nor the milch cows elucidated the word’s origin. (In my experience, no one understands the word milch, and this is why I have used it here.)
The fanciful derivation of aroint as a compound from some verb for “go” and a cognate of (be)hind does not merit attention. The familiar dialectal pronunciation of jint for joint suggests that the etymological vowel in the verb rynt was oi, not i. Old English had the verb ryman “to make room,” and Skeat derived aroint from the phrase rime ta (ta = thee), imperative, “which must necessarily become rine ta (if the i be long).” I am not sure why the change was necessary, but Skeat sometimes struck with excessive force. Anyway, he reasoned along the same lines as most of his predecessors and followers, who thought that aroint meant ‘begone’. A similar idea can be observed in several attempts to find a Romance etymon of aroint.
Horne Tooke, famous, among other things, for a two-volume book EPEA PTEROENTA, Or, The Diversions of Purley (1798-1805), traced Shakespeare’s word to “ronger, rogner, royner; whence also aroynt… is a separation or discontinuity of the skin or flesh by a gnawing, eating forward, malady” (compare Italian rogna “scabies, mange” and ronyon in Macbeth, above). He obviously glossed aroint as “to be separated” and found several supporters. Other early candidates for the etymon known to me (for nearly all of which I am indebted to Furness’s notes on Macbeth and King Lear) are French arry-avant “away there, ho!”, éreinte-toi “break thy back or reins” (used as an imprecation), Latin dii te averruncent “may the devils take thee,” and Italian arranca (the imperative of arrancare “plod along, trudge”). A strong case has been made for aroint being an expected phonetic variant of anoint or acquiring in some contexts the figurative sense “thrash” (the latter derivation was defended by George Hempl, a distinguished American philologist), or because it “conveys a sense very consistent with the common account of witches, who are related to perform many supernatural acts by means of unguents.” Finally, Thomas Hearne’s Ectypa Varia ad Historiam Britannicam… (1737) contains a print in which “a devil, who is driving the damned before him, is blowing a horn with a label issuing from his mouth and the words: ‘Out, out Arongt’.” Arongt resembles aroint but its existence does not clarify the etymology of either.
The opinions, as one can see, are many, but only one conclusion is almost certain. Shakespeare, a Stratford man, knew a local word, expected his audience to understand it even in London, and used it in his plays dated to the beginning of the seventeenth century. Thus, he did not invent aroint, and the suggestion that it is his adaptation of around cannot be entertained, for how would it then have passed into popular speech in that form? As follows from the facts summarized above, in addition to witches, cows in Cheshire understood aroint thee and the phrase became proverbial in some parts of England. The milkmaids’ experience notwithstanding, it will probably not be too risky to propose that aroint thee was coined to ward off witches, damned souls, and their ilk (arongt does look identical with aroint) and that only later it spread to less ominous situations. Perhaps its origin has not been discovered because nearly everybody glossed it as “begone, disappear, stand off.” But (and this is my main point) aroint thee may have meant something like beshrew thee, fie on you. Louis Marder, in updating Furness’s Macbeth (1963), said: “The local nature, the meaning, and form of the phrase, seem all opposed to its identity with Shakespeare’s Aroint,” because ryndta! in Cheshire and Lancashire is “merely a local pronunciation of ‘round thee’= move around.” Except for having doubts about the currency of ryndta in Lancashire, OED endorsed this verdict. In my opinion, the match is quite good. Ryndta does not necessarily have to go back to round thee, while the local character of the phrase cannot be used as an argument for or against its identity with what we find in Macbeth and King Lear.
At least as early as 1784, it was suggested that aroint has something to do with rauntree, one of several variants of the tree name rowan. This tree, perhaps better known as mountain ash, is famous in myth and folklore from Ancient Greece to Scandinavia. 
One of its alleged virtues is the ability to deter witches and protect people and cattle from evil. The great Scandinavian god Thor was once almost drowned in a river because of the wiles of a mighty giantess but threw a great stone at her, was carried ashore, caught hold of a rowan tree, and waded out of the water; hence the tree’s name “Thor’s rescue.” It would be quite natural to shout rauntree or rointree, in order to chase away a witch: on hearing the terrible word, she would be scared and flee. Rowan is a noun of Scandinavian origin (Icelandic reynir, Norwegian raun; the earliest citations in OED do not predate the middle of the fifteenth century), so that various diphthongs, including oi, developed in it. An imprecation like a raun ~ reyn to thee seems to have existed and become aroint thee. The only lexicographer who entertained a similar idea was Ernest Weekley. He wrote: “Exact meaning and origin unknown. ? Connected with dialectal rointree, rowan-tree, mountain-ash, efficacy of which against witches is often referred to in early folklore.” I take it to be the most promising hypothesis of all. The word (rowan), pronounced differently in different dialects, reached England from Scandinavia, but the curse is probably local. In any case, its Scandinavian analogs have not been found.
Anatoly Liberman is the author of Word Origins…And How We Know Them as well as An Analytic Dictionary of English Etymology: An Introduction. His column on word origins, The Oxford Etymologist, appears here, each Wednesday. Send your etymology question to him care of [email protected]; he’ll do his best to avoid responding with “origin unknown.”
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Image credit: Rowan by Ivan Shishkin, 1892. Public domain via Wikipaintings.org.
The post Out of Shakespeare: ‘Aroint thee’ appeared first on OUPblog.
Continuing our chapter reading adventures from my last post, my mum helped Rowan make a map of the Faraway Tree to accompany our reading of the story…
The post has created a visual reminder of the story, and Rowan regularly asks me to ‘read’ the story on the poster.
Our next chapter book has been Fantastic Mr Fox – we read this lovely edition with full colour illustrations by Quentin Blake. So much fun and adored by Rowan. Now we just have to draw the map of Mr Fox’s tunnels beneath the Boggis, Bunce and Bean farms…
Unpersuaded by my alternative suggestions, Rowan was determined to have a superhero theme for his 4th birthday party. I admire parents who can persuade their 4-year-olds to have a party theme of an adult’s choosing… Thus far, I’m not one of them.
At least I get a say over the cake…
Inspired by Harry and Horsie, first blogged about by Lou right here.
Of all the superheros, Harry might just have to be my favourite. Katie Van Camp and Lincoln Agnew capture the spirit of little boys becoming super heros and cleverly sidestep the fighting and guns, with a ’super duper bubble blooper’…
(Did you know Harry is a celebrity baby of sorts? I just discovered this.)
It was very wet and very cold on the day of Rowan’s party, and despite four-year-old energy levels and being cooped up in the garage for most of the party, Rowan and his friends were absorbed by a reading of Harry and Horsie.
The costumes were calling out for a photo, a la the cover of Play All Day.
But the highlight? A patch of sunshine and a good half an hour of ’superhero flying’: jumping off the slide and into the beanbag.
3 Comments on A Harry and Horsie cake, last added: 8/21/2010
A while ago Rowan started asking us to read him a ’story with our hands’. This means using our hands to make a book shape and making a story up. He usually requests ‘only three’ stories which is sometimes a bit taxing for the cogs of my imagination…
At three and a half, Rowan has loved hearing our made-up stories, something I remember loving when I was little too. What’s even nicer is hearing him make up the occasional story with his hands too.
This development has also coincided with Rowan’s new enthusiasm for exploring the breadth of his bookshelf. Not so long ago I remember the phase when Rowan wanted the same few books over and over every night. Now he requests a book he’s never had before, or one we haven’t read for ages. Scary as it is, it isn’t difficult for us to find several new books on Rowan’s shelf that we’ve never read together before. Proof of how much I’ve spent on picture books over the years…
‘Stories with our hands’ are quite convenient when out and about, like at a cafe. Rowan has realised, however, that my hands are otherwise occupied when I’m driving. When we are in the car the request from the back seat is ‘Please can we have a story with your brain, Mama?’
Would love to hear how ‘made-up’ stories are/were told in your house…
We are definitely in the midst of the ‘Why?’ phase with Rowan. Seems like it has already been going on for a while and friends tell me that it keeps going for a lot longer again… I know it’s healthy, but sometimes I just like to get through a page of a book at bedtime without five questions about the story and the illustrations.
So last night I could hardly believe it when Rowan sat absolutely absorbed and completely silent as I read him for the first time A Story for Bear by Dennis Haseley and illustrated by Jim La Marche.
The book tells the story of a friendship between a bear and a woman who lives for a time in a woodland cabin. The bear stumbles upon the cabin and sees the woman reading. He is very curious about the square object that she holds, which at times makes her laugh, and at others afraid or pensive. Day by day the bear gathers courage until he is able to lie close to the woman. For the shortening days of summer, and until the leaves change colour, she reads to him. And although the bear can’t understand her words, he feels the emotions conveyed through her voice. Her words make a story: a story for her bear.
I’m not sure which aspect of the story was so captivating for Rowan - it could have been the idea of a wild bear meeting a human for the first time, or perhaps the bear’s perspective, learning about the existence of books and the power of storytelling. Whatever the reason, it was wonderful for me to share a book with him that is very special to me - it was Lou who gave me my copy and I think it is such a beautiful story about the wonders of reading.
I also love Jim La Marche’s illustrations - I reviewed another beautiful book of his, Albert, here. He has such a talent for illustrating light and shadow, and this is done so beautifully again for the woodland scenes in A Story for Bear.
||A Story for Bear is available in the We Heart Books store||
An update from motherland… thanks everyone for the lovely comments and emails. Otto is doing very well - we are lucky that so far he seems very settled baby. This is considerate of him as Lou and I have been very busy with preparing the store for Christmas and Magnolia Square. Otto will be coming with us to Magnolia Square - he may just be the youngest member in the audience at our storytime sessions.
Here are some photos of cuddles with Rowan…
Planning to post some photos of some corners of Otto’s nursery soon.
The Tiger Who Came to Tea is one of those books that I don’t recall having on my bookshelf as a child, but it nevertheless made a big impression on me and I remember it very fondly. It has been on my mental wishlist for ages, and when some colleagues gave me a bookstore gift voucher before I went on maternity leave last month, I used it to buy two picture books. One had to be a beautiful hardback edition of this book.
Rowan is into tigers in a big way at the moment - he is obsessed with David Attenborough documentaries - so we have both loved reading this book together.
A little girl called Sophie opens the door one day to find a big, furry, stripey tiger on her doorstep. When the tiger asks if he can join them for tea, Sophie’s mummy invites him in. But the tiger turns out to be very, very hungry - he not only eats all the food and drink on the tea table but proceeds to raid the kitchen, eating all the food on the stove, in the fridge, and even all the water from the taps.
Eventually the tiger leaves, and Sophie and her mummy are left to figure out what to do - there is nothing for supper and Sophie can’t even have a bath because all the water has been drunk from the taps…
First published in 1968, The Tiger Who Came to Tea is gloriously old-fashioned. Taking place in the days of the milkman and the grocery boy, it is a time when daddy’s supper was prepared in time for his arrival home and going out for dinner was practically unheard of. I love Sophie and her mummy’s outfits; Sophie’s purple pinafore and checkerboard tights are perfect!
I think one of the reasons I loved this book was the fact that it presented elements of fantasy as real. The scenario of a tiger appearing at the door appears perfectly reasonable, as is the idea that the water can be drunk from the taps. When Sophie and her mummy go to the supermarket to replenish supplies, they make sure that they buy a big tin of tiger food. What else do you buy in case a tiger were to stop by?!
The text is beautifully understated - I especially love the page showing the family walking down the High Street on their way out to supper. You can tell how special the outing is to Sophie, how rare it is for her to be out in the street after dark…
So they went out in the dark, and all the street lamps were lit, and all the cars had their lights on, and they walked down the road to a cafe.
Judith Kerr also wrote the series of picture books about Mog the cat, and I only realised tonight that she was author of a young adult novel that I dearly loved, When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit. If you are familiar with her books, you should definitely read this lovely interview with Judith published in the Telegraph.
||The Tiger Who Came to Tea is available from Amazon||
Rowan has recently been able to spend some time with his great grandmother, my Nana. Here they are reading a few weeks ago.
My Nana was an amazing person, and an inspiration to me. She went to university at a time when not many women did. She was a pharmacist and co-ran a small business, at the same time as having four children under 9. She made legendary Anzac biscuits. She had a big family of children, grand-children and one great-grandchild, Rowan. How lucky he is to have known her, and to have shared with her some good books.
Following on from my post earlier in the week on Andy Griffiths’ memories of Struwwelpeter, it has been interesting for me to think about whether sometimes we might consciously or subconsciously protect children from books that we think are scary or gross in some way. And how an adult sense of humour and sensitivity to these things is different from that of a little person.
Not nearly as gruesome as Struwwelpeter but still somewhat ‘frank’ are two wordless Pamela Allen books Rowan is loving at the moment: Simon Did and Watch Me. He started to read these at Nanou’s house and has borrowed them to read over and over at home. (Unfortunately both are now out of print, but could still be available at libraries.)
In Simon Did, Simon is at the zoo, where he boldly disobeys the sign that reads ‘DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS’. Some unfortunate consequences ensue including, in the end, Simon being swallowed himself. Rowan loves reciting the words of the sign, and doesn’t seem at all perturbed by the messy ending for Simon.
In Watch Me, each page of the story pictures a little boy doing a trick on his bike - no hands, standing on one foot, etc - as he rides faster and faster down the hill. He hits a stone, and comes tumbling over the handlebars, and the closing page shows him in tears with a serious bump on his head. Being wordless, the illustrations are central to the meaning, and the bike’s increasing speed is cleverly shown by the steepness of the hill and by the ears of his companion dog which fly back at an increasing rate. It’s no coincidence that ‘Watch me, Mama!’ has recently become part of Rowan’s vocabulary in daily use…
No happy ending in either of these books - in fact you might even imagine they could induce some nightmares - yet Rowan loves them. Any other gruesome or miserable endings in books you’re surprised little people are enjoying?
My sister Jane returned from Italy in time for Rowan’s birthday. She gave him a gorgeous Italian-inspired birthday present - a copy of the Robert Ingpen illustrated Pinocchio and a gorgeous Pinnochio print for his room. She even found a Pinocchio card - which would also look gorgeous in a frame.
Robert Ingpen has illustrated a range of classics for Templar Publishing and they are beautiful productions. Lou reviewed The Wind in the Willows here, and I gave Rowan a copy of Ingpen’s Peter Pan for his first birthday. The illustrations are so fitting, and after reading one, you almost forget there could possibly be any other version of illustration for these stories. Soft and dreamlike, they imbue a sense of old-world charm. The fact that Robert Ingpen is Melbourne born and bred is icing on the cake for me!
I love endpapers, and these Pinocchio endpapers are some of the nicest I’ve seen in a while.
One of our favourite toddlers had his 2nd birthday party on Sunday, and you can imagine my joy when his beautiful cake was brought out…
A Very Hungry Caterpillar cake! What a creative and practical idea - individual cupcakes is such a good option, and arranging them into a shape is brilliant. The varying shades and textures of green were so evocative of Eric Carle’s illustrations. And candle antennae - what can I say?!
Nuwan and Rowan lined up and could hardly wait to try the chocolate cakes and strawberries.
Thanks to chef Joey, photographer Bryan and mum Nicci for sharing these pics.
I’m a little ashamed to say this, but we didn’t have a copy of Goodnight Moon on our shelves until I bought a copy for Rowan this week. First published in 1947, I’m actually not sure whether this title was very prominent in Australia when I was growing up. It isn’t one I remember from my childhood, or even from my early bookselling days. Don’t know if I was under a rock – maybe other Aussies can shed some light…
I’m confident the same couldn’t be said of US readers, as the book seems to be have been a hugely popular classic there. It is of course very popular here now too. Numerous ‘celebrity mom’ citings of Goodnight Moon verge on the off-putting (especially if you have a perverse streak like me). Anyone from Hilary Clinton to Tori Spelling seems keen to mention Goodnight Moon. Even ‘our’ Cate and Naomi are fans.
At first reading, the text of Goodnight Moon may almost seem a little glib. But you soon realise its charm. The rhyming, lilting text is mesmerising and the repetition of the words and illustrations is just so comforting. It is the quintessential bedtime story.
The book got a resounding nod of approval from Rowan. He is going through a stage at the moment when he often resists new books, especially at bedtime when he refuses anything unfamiliar. But he picked up Goodnight Moon with some curiousity and happily listened to a first reading and then requested THREE further readings.
There’s a lovely post over on Collecting Children’s Books discussing the identity of the ‘quiet old lady’ who features in Goodnight Moon. Worth reading, especially if you remember the story from when you were young.
For our upcoming trip overseas, I’ve been preparing my goodie bag of distractions for Rowan on the plane. Rowan does have some experience of flying, as his grandparents live interstate. And perhaps more significantly, I do now have some experience of flying as a mum. Suffice to say, I’ve got a lot better at it over time. These tips on books for travelling with kids are gleaned from our own travels and advice from well-travelled friends…
Books are excellent for travelling because compared to other forms of distraction, they generally have no small parts, and are not messy. (With the best of intentions I took a tub of playdough on one plane flight - big mistake.) With some parent interaction, a good book can be strung out for an extended period of time, especially for the period when the seatbelt sign is on… I’ve found it’s a good idea to take a mix of old favourites and new books Rowan has never seen before. Hiding one of Rowan’s favourite books for a period before we leave also works well.
Here is a list of a few of the types of books we will be taking on this holiday…
1) Small books
A few small books are light and take up minimal space; they also provide variety and it’s not a disaster if you lose one. Golden Books, the Thomas Library books (at $3.95 a pop) and Mr Men books all fit in this category.
2) Busy books
When I say busy books I mean ones with lots of detail and things to look for on every page. A hit for us has been the Thomas’ Really Useful Word Book. This durable large format board book is also great value at $16.95. Each spread pictures Thomas in a different part of Sodor, and shows lots of different objects and animals - at the farm, at the station, at the seaside. Lots of things to find in every picture and there is a bit of a narrative too throughout the book. Unfortunately it is fairly heavy, which may rule it out for this trip…
Also highly recommended are the Richard Scarry books. Haven’t tried these with Rowan yet, but I suspect they would do the job perfectly.
3) Books with stickers
Stickers are another great distraction for travelling. A while ago I picked up this great pad of stickers called ‘Vehicle Movement’ for the grand total of $2.25 from the Queenscliff Newsagency. Of course I’ve never seen them in a newsagent since, and I now wish I’d bought several of them… This one pad of stickers has taken us on several flights already and we’ve shared them with grateful fellow parents on the plane.
This time we will be trying one of Ladybird’s series of books with reusable stickers - we have Let’s get dressed. In this one the two sheets of stickers of clothes and accessories can be used to dress four children inside. Even if Rowan doesn’t like this one, I think I’ll have some fun!
I also found the Play Scene On The Construction Site which despite my best efforts, Rowan spotted and he has already had a tantrum over it.
A board folds out and an assortment of diggers, tip trucks, workmen, witches hats and other goodies can be placed on the scene. There are lots more in this series, which you can view here at Mudpuppy. (Click on Sticker Set Play Scenes.)
But there is one more book with great current appeal for Rowan, which really took me by surprise. It is IDEAL for the plane. It’s called 
Point It, and I found it at Metropolis Books. A passport-sized book, it is a kind of visual dictionary, designed so you can show a picture of something you are trying to communicate to someone who doesn’t speak your language. It has retro 70s photos and illustrations of 1200 items, covering the topics of food, accommodation, transport and shopping. (The transport section guarantees the Rowan appeal…) I initially bought it for a bit of fun. But the more I look at it the more I think it will be useful, and the toddler appeal is a fabulous bonus!!!
Just a few distinctly Nova Scotian images of Fall. These were taken outside the city on trips or dog walks. The amazing shot of the moose was taken by my friend Keram Pfeiffer, I've never been lucky (or unlucky) enough to get this close to a moose. Things are going well, I'm working on the pirate book, the dinosaur book and my own troll book. Fall's always a busy time of year for me. I live in the stone house at the top. ( OK, not really.)
How fabulous! We are in the midst of reading the Faraway Tree stories, up to The Folk of the Faraway Tree at the moment, and I’m loving reliving my childhood as much as Elliot is enjoying discovering it for the first time. What a great poster.
Chels
[...] and Rowan are reading the quintessential classic, Fantastic Mr Fox by Roland Dahl. They need one of these divine [...]