All these names now stand for a great number of functions of varying importance. Other titles which are equally vague are sergeant (see p. [148]) and usher, Old Fr. uissier[65] (huissier), lit. door-keeper, Lat. ostiarius, a porter. Another official was the harbinger, who survives only in poetry. He was a forerunner, or vauntcourier, who preceded the great man to secure him "harbourage" for the night, and his name comes from Old Fr. herberger (héberger), to shelter (see p. [164]). As late as the reign of Charles II. we read that—
"On the removal of the court to pass the summer at Winchester, Bishop Ken's house, which he held in the right of his prebend, was marked by the harbinger for the use of Mrs Eleanor Gwyn; but he refused to grant her admittance, and she was forced to seek for lodgings in another place."
(Hawkins, Life of Bishop Ken.)
PARALLEL METAPHORS
One of the most interesting branches of semantics, and the most useful to the etymologist, deals with the study of parallel metaphors in different languages. We have seen (p. [29]) how, for instance, the names of flowers show that the same likeness has been observed by various races. The spice called clove and the clove-pink both belong to Lat. clavus, a nail. The German for pink is Nelke, a Low German diminutive, nail-kin, of Nagel, nail. The spice, or Gewürznelke, is called in South Germany Nägele, little nail. A clove of garlic is quite a separate word; but, as it has some interesting cognates, it may be mentioned here. It is so called because the bulb cleaves naturally into segments.[66] The German name is Knoblauch, for Mid. High Ger. klobe-louch, clove-leek, by dissimilation of one l. The Dutch doublet is kloof, a chasm, gully, familiar in South Africa.
Fr. poison, Lat. potio, potion-, a drink, and Ger. Gift, poison, lit. gift, seem to date from treacherous times. On the other hand, Ger. Geschenk, a present, means something poured out (see nuncheon, p. [124]), while a tip is in French pourboire and in German Trinkgeld, even when accepted by a lifelong abstainer. In English we "ride a hobby," i.e., a hobby-horse, or wooden horse. German has the same metaphor, "ein Steckenpferd reiten," and French says "enfourcher un dada," i.e., to bestride a gee-gee. Hobby, for Mid. Eng. hobin, a nag, was a proper name for a horse. Like Dobbin and Robin, it belongs to the numerous progeny of Robert.
In some cases the reason for a metaphor is not quite clear to the modern mind. The bloodthirsty weasel is called in French belette,[67] little beauty, in Italian donnola, in Portuguese doninha, little lady, in Spanish comadreja, gossip (Fr. commère, Scot. cummer, p. [94]), in Bavarian Schöntierlein, beautiful little animal, in Danish kjönne, beautiful, and in older English fairy.[68] From Lat. medius we get mediastinus, "a drugge (drudge) or lubber to doe all vile service in the house; a kitching slave" (Cooper). Why this drudge should have a name implying a middle position I cannot say; but to-day in the North of England a maid-of-all-work is called a tweeny (between maid).
A stock semantic parallel occurs in the relation between age and respectability. All of us, as soon as we get to reasonable maturity, lay great stress on the importance of deference to "elders." It follows naturally that many titles of more or less dignity should be evolved from this idea of seniority. The Eng. alderman is obvious. Priest, Old Fr. prestre[69] (prêtre), from Gk. πρεσβύτερος, comparative of πρέσβυς, old, is not so obvious. In the Romance languages we have a whole group of words, e.g., Fr. sire, sieur, seigneur, Ital. signor, Span. señor, with their compounds monsieur, messer, etc., all representing either senior or seniorem. Ger. Eltern, parents, is the plural comparative of alt, old, and the first element of seneschal (see marshal, p. [90]) is cognate with Lat. senex. From Fr. sire comes Eng. sir, and from this was formed the adjective sirly,[70] now spelt surly, which in Shakespeare still means haughty, arrogant—
"See how the surly Warwick mans the wall."