Skinning a cat in a bag

Imagine language without idioms, proverbs, or other flourishes to represent the nuances of the human condition. In 1984, George Orwell imagines such a language in “Newspeak.” Recently at work, a colleague used a proverb to point out that we could approach a certain task in a few different ways, saying, “There is more than one way to skin a cat.” A second colleague noted that an absent co-worker who loves cats would have been upset to hear that proverb used. A discussion of the possible origins of the proverb ensued, with great sympathy for Poor Tom Cat.

A few days later, a panelist on a radio talk show commented on a secret revealed, again using a cat-related proverb, “Someone let the cat out of the bag.” This usage caught my attention because of the recent conversation at work regarding skinning cats. At least the poor skinned cat was set free.

 Ways to skin a cat

Where did these catty proverbs originate? I employed only one way to skin these kitties—a Google search. Three different sources all agree that vague references to killing cats appear in English proverbs going back to the 1600’s; however, the exact origin of the first proverb under study remains a mystery. A web site dealing with English Language and usage, English Stack Exchange, cites a letter dated 13 March 1839 in which John Smith writes about the challenge of creating a white flag to signal a truce: "There's more ways to kill a cat than one." The Phrase Finder cites a version from 1855 in Charles Kingsley’s novel Westward Ho!, “There are more ways of killing a cat than choking it with cream.”

All three sources cited agree that the earliest appearance of the proverb referring to skinning a cat as opposed to killing it appears in 1840 in a short story, “The Money Diggers,” by Seba Smith, an American humorist.

Rolls off the Tongue puzzles over the proverbial desire to kill both cats and dogs, noting a shift from “killing the cat” to “skinning the cat” in American usage and Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, published in 1889. This proverb, however, does not refer to feline cats but to catfish, rendering the proverb less gruesome and potentially more palatable.

LETTING THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG

Now that the cat is skinned, let’s let the cat out of the bag. A generally accepted first appearance of the phrase in print comes from The London Times in 1760: “We could have wished that the author . . . had not let the cat out of the bag.”

Both The Phrase Finder and Mental Floss offer similar information regarding two theories of origin for this phrase. One theory, traced back to 1530, refers to a trick supposedly played at markets in which the wily seller substituted a cat for a pig in a bag, or a poke. According to the Phrase Finder, “If you let the cat out of the bag,” you disclosed the trick – and avoided buying a pig in a poke (bag).

In the second theory, the “cat” is a cat-of-nine-tails, a whip used to punish sailors. Few sources give this explanation much credibility. For a full refutation of both theories, see Snopes.com.

While the cat has been away, this mouse has played—with words and ideas—perhaps set on by the cat’s curiosity, which I hope will not kill it this time. I had planned to write more about cats and proverbs in this blog, but for now I must put the cat back in the bag and promise you more feline-related fun in the next blog.

LAGNIAPPE: “Pig in a Poke” is the name of an episode of “Green Acres” in which Lisa sneaks Arnold Ziffel into a New York hotel room in order to prevent Mr. Haney from seizing Arnold to satisfy a debt.

Without further ado

Recently, a friend of mine returned from presenting a lecture, curious as to why the phrase ”without further ado” has become popular to the point of cliche in introducing speakers. Indeed, we tend not to say, “Without further ado, I am going to the grocery to buy a pint chocolate ice cream,” or “Without further ado, let’s do the spring yard clean-up because the town leaf pick-up is tomorrow.” What is the big ado associated with introducing a speaker? An ado regarding the question ensued on Facebook, generating over 40 comments. Soon thereafter, I attended a conference where I heard the phrase used in introducing speakers, so without further ado, I am going to share my contribution to this linguistic ado.

According to the trusty OED, the phrase "without more ado," meaning "without further work, ceremony," goes back as far as the 14th century. The first literary example listed (from 1380) goes to the effect of the lords engaged in a certain action "without more a-do." (Sadly, my Old English is too rusty to translate the phrase representing that action.) "A-do," the informal version of the verb "at do," originated in the North of England and became "to do" in more broad usage. Around the 16th century, the verb decided to "transgrammar" itself to a noun, "ado." My favorite literary example reads, "William wanted a wife, and they were married without more ado," from a book dated 1876 about the Norman Conquest. Perhaps after marrying, William the Conqueror decided to leave the "further ado" to speechifying rather than marriage, perhaps trying to discourage the “at do” that can accompany marriage.

Contemplating this introductory phrase reminded me of the Southern colloquialism “fixing to,” meaning “getting ready to,” as in “Without further ado, I am fixing to introduce a speaker.” To my surprise, neither my Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang nor my Chamber’s Slang Dictionary has an entry or sub-entry on “fixing to.” Not surprisingly, however, I found a definition of “fixing to” on urbandictionary.com, which identifies the phrase as “vernacular particular to the southern US.” 

LAGNIAPPE: My sister and I many years ago created a sentence reflecting a number of Southern regional expressions: I am fixing to carry my bohunkus to the store to make groceries.

(Be)-Numbed

I am down in the mouth today. No, I am not sad. I am literally down one tooth—the #4 pre-molar. The tooth broke at the end of the summer. I avoided the inevitable loss of the tooth as long as possible, but finally the time had come.

As I sat in the dental chair awaiting my fate, my mind wandered to the words “numb” and “benumb.” Frequently, we add a prefix or suffix to a word to alter its meaning. However, if I took the word “numb,” which I defined as “without feeling,” and added the prefix “be-,” as in “surrounded by,” the meaning of the resulting word essentially stays the same—surrounded by a lack of feeling. My curious mind wanted to know exactly what the dentist did to me before pulling my #4 pre-molar.

Upon consulting my Oxford English Dictionary, I pulled out the following information. “Numb” cut its teeth as an adjective meaning “deprived of feeling, or of the power of movement, esp. through excessive cold.” This adjectival form came from an Old English verb, “nim.” “Benumb” developed its bite as a transitive verb meaning “to make (any part of the body) insensible, torpid, or powerless.” The entry later notes that “benumb” now refers mostly to loss of feeling cause by coldness. According to this information, the dentist benumbed my gums with Novocaine causing numbness which allowed a painless tooth extraction.

Not content to let a pulled tooth lie, I consulted the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language. The first definition reflects the OED information. However, at some point, “numb” also took on a verb usage, “to make or become numb” (an absolutely terrible definition, by the way). The AHD entry supplies more information about the early history of “numb,” which evolved from a verb, nomin, meaning “to seize.” A “Word History” note details the history of “niman” as an irregular verb which would have been conjugated “nim, nam, num,” with “num” as the past participial form leading to our modern “numb.” In effect, the potential pain of my tooth extraction was taken away or seized—carpe morsus, as opposed to carpe diem, perhaps.

As the OED notes, “benumb” has retained its link with loss of feeling due to coldness in modern usage. The AHD defines the verb, “to make numb, especially by cold” (another terrible definition) and “to render senseless or inactive, as from shock or boredom.” In more modern usage, the dentist numbed my gums with Novocaine causing numbness which allowed a painless tooth extraction. Later, however, I benumbed the pain with an ice pack.

And so I have seized this opportunity to extract meaning from a now-empty space in my mouth. If I have not rendered you senseless from boredom, I will leave you with the thought that all I got from the Tooth Fairy is another hole in my head!

LAGNIAPPE: In the mid-1960’s, John Lennon published some of his jottings and drawings in two slim volumes, usually collected as one, In His Own Write and A Spaniard in the Works. In the former, he includes a piece, “At the Denis,” which details a woman’s experience with a tooth which the dentist (denis) “excretes.” In these works, Lennon combines wicked word play with satire of various things. I discovered these works in the mid-1980’s while striding through the Morris Library at Southern Illinois University-Carbondale, avoiding work on the dissertation. I highly recommend these works, especially if you are trying to avoid work or losing a tooth.