Portmanteau, combining two words and two meanings
A few weeks ago we learned about “magpiety,” a word created by yoking together the two words “magpie” and “piety.” This combination of both words and meanings to create new ones in fact has a name of its own: portmanteau.
Originally the word portmanteau didn’t mean anything at all. ‘Port’ is a French prefix denoting an object that carries the word following it. ‘Manteau’ means cloak. With the two together, you now have the word for a cloak-carrying object. That’s right, a suitcase.
In its earliest incarnations, portmanteau referred to any bag that could easily be carried on horseback, but it evolved over time to mean the big, hinged, hard-sided pieces we would normally imagine today. Think one of those hefty leather jobs that look really good on old steam trains, preferably surrounded by dapper gents in suave hats and ladies with plenty of silk.
Originally the word portmanteau didn’t mean anything at all. ‘Port’ is a French prefix denoting an object that carries the word following it. ‘Manteau’ means cloak. With the two together, you now have the word for a cloak-carrying object. That’s right, a suitcase.
In its earliest incarnations, portmanteau referred to any bag that could easily be carried on horseback, but it evolved over time to mean the big, hinged, hard-sided pieces we would normally imagine today. Think one of those hefty leather jobs that look really good on old steam trains, preferably surrounded by dapper gents in suave hats and ladies with plenty of silk.
Why would a word for suitcase come to mean two words yoked together? For this we must turn to writer Lewis Carroll, who was the first to use the word this way as early as 1871. In “Through the Looking Glass,” Alice has recently read the nonsense poem “Jabberwocky,” which understandably makes very little sense to her. So she asks Humpty-Dumpty (who claims he can explain “all the poems that were ever invented—and a good many that haven’t been invented just yet”) to elucidate:
‘That’ll do very well,’ said Alice: and “slithy”?’
‘Well, “slithy” means “lithe and slimy.” “Lithe” is the same as “active.” You see it’s like a portmanteau—there are two meanings packed up into one word.’
Alice’s adventures in Wonderland, of course, proved very popular, and while ‘slithy’ may not have made it into the dictionary, the portmanteau idea was so clever that it has stuck ever since. Longer, in fact, than the big leather suitcases it once described and the dapper hats that went with them.
‘That’ll do very well,’ said Alice: and “slithy”?’
‘Well, “slithy” means “lithe and slimy.” “Lithe” is the same as “active.” You see it’s like a portmanteau—there are two meanings packed up into one word.’
Alice’s adventures in Wonderland, of course, proved very popular, and while ‘slithy’ may not have made it into the dictionary, the portmanteau idea was so clever that it has stuck ever since. Longer, in fact, than the big leather suitcases it once described and the dapper hats that went with them.
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