ancient Greek — Words of the week

On Monday (8th April), there was a total solar eclipse. Sadly you could only see this if you were in North America – here in the UK it was only a partial (described as a ‘small grazing’ on one website I saw). I didn’t manage to see any of it, but it did get me wondering – where does the word ‘eclipse’ come from?

These days, ‘eclipse’ refers to the partial or complete obscuring of one celestial body by another, or the shadow cast by one celestial body on to another. We also use it metaphorically to describe someone or something being overshadowed by something else.

‘Eclipse’ comes from ancient Greek, from ‘ekleipsis’, meaning ‘an abandonment’ or ‘a failing’, to reflect those poor old ancient Greekies being abandoned or failed by the sun or moon. Over time, the word was adopted into Latin as ‘eclipsis’, then into Old French as ‘eclipse’, before finally making it to Middle English as, you’ve guessed it, ‘eclipse’.

Eclipses have long been viewed with some superstition, and there have been various odd things that have happened during them. Here are just a few.

The Battle of the Eclipse (585 BCE): One of the earliest recorded instances of an eclipse influencing human affairs happened during this battle between the Lydians and the Medes in what’s now Turkey. According to the ancient Greek historian Herodotus, there was a total solar eclipse in the middle of the fighting, which both sides took as a sign to stop battling and make peace. So that’s nice. On the flipside, during the Battle of Muye (c. 1046 BCE) in ancient China, a total solar eclipse terrified the soldiers, causing panic on both sides. It’s thought that one side (the Zhou) used this to their advantage to boost morale, claiming it was some sort of divine favour, and went on to defeat the Shang dynasty.
The death of Henry I (1133): The OG Hazza died from eating a shitload of lampreys, a type of jawless fish (yum), during a feast. His death also coincided with a total solar eclipse which many people took as a portent of his impending demise, or as a sign of divine displeasure at all those poor fish he ate.
The New Madrid Earthquakes (1811–1812): This was a series of powerful earthquakes – in fact, some of the most powerful ever recorded in the contiguous United States (I had to look up what that means – it’s all the states that are connected to each other, i.e. the 48 adjoining states on the North American continent – so it doesn’t include Alaska and Hawaii). The earthquakes happened during a time of heightened celestial activity, including multiple solar and lunar eclipses. There’s no scientific connection here but it must have brown trousers all round for anyone in the middle of them.

I once got told off by a client for writing ‘a myriad of XXX’. She said that it should be simply ‘myriad’ whatever it was, because ‘myriad’ is only an adjective (a describing word), not a noun (a person, place or thing). Because I only remember the mean things people say to me, many years later I’ve finally googled this, and it turns out she was WRONG. And in this post I’m going to tell you why. (She’s not a client anymore. Not because of that. Honest.)

Before we get into that, let’s talk about what ‘myriad’ means (although I’m sure you know that already, clever reader). As an adjective – as in ‘he has myriad issues’ – it means ‘innumerable’ i.e. too many to be numbered AKA a buttload. As a noun – as in ‘he has a myriad of issues’ – it means either a buttload again or, specifically 10,000. Why 10,000? Well, in ancient Greek, the word for 10,000 was μυριάς, which was pronounced ‘myrias’. Over time this word evolved and was used more broadly to talk about the concept of a vast or countless number. We then started using it figuratively to describe an indefinitely large quantity or multitude. It was adopted into English as ‘myriad’ in the mid-1500s.

So why was that client so insistent that it was only an adjective? Well, apparently lots of folks were taught this at school. But much like ‘you can’t start a sentence with “and” or “but”’, and ‘you can’t end a sentence with a conjunction’, this is another ‘rule’ that has absolutely no basis in fact. When ‘myriad’ appeared in the English language in the mid-1500s it was as a noun, not an adjective. And it went on to appear as such in works by writers including Milton, Thoreau and Twain – and they did alright with the words. ‘Myriad’ as an adjective didn’t actually appear until 200 years later. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it, client.

Petty, moi?