French or Latin, abbreviation or onomatopoeia? Oxford Today readers compete to lift the lid on a mystery word history.

We asked readers of the last Oxford Today magazine to suggest possible derivations of the word jam (‘Molecular marmalade’, Michaelmas 2014, p. 59). Here we pick through the responses, and invite an expert verdict from Professor Anatoly Liberman, OUP author of Word Origins ... and How We Know Them: Etymology for Everyone and of the regular Oxford Etymologist blog.

David Woodruff (Wadham, 1953) Amratlal Shah (Trinity, 1966) back the Oxford English Dictionary explanation that the noun may derive from jam in the sense ‘to bruise or crush by pressure’. Lesley Chamberlain (LMH, 1973) elaborates: ‘I’d go for the substantive jam defined as “a mass of things . . . crowded or packed together”. This formation would follow the idea behind the German einmachen = to make jam, preserve fruit. Einmachen gets the mixture of ingredients as one substance into the jar. Compare also the French for jam, confiture, with a primary meaning of preserving and a derivation from the Latin conficere, literally “to make together”. The German verb is a calque on the Latin and it’s tempting to think the English noun jam is too.’ Pip Kirby (Christ Church, 1966) adds that the verb jam is ‘in turn possibly derived from champ; in the sense of “compress into a small space”.’

However, Brian S Lee (St Peter’s, 1956) is not convinced by the resemblance to jam in the ‘press, squeeze’ sense. Etymologists, he says, ‘could as soon derive the name from its resemblance to the appearance of your finger after you’ve caught it between the jamb and the door.’ He opines that the word probably comes from a fruit ingredient — ‘damson, a kind of purplish plum formerly imported from Damascus’, but with an altered initial consonant ‘suggestive, as the tongue is lovingly slurped back from the palatal ridge behind the teeth, of the relish with which the preserve is enjoyed’. The idea of pleasure likewise underlies the claim, cited by Alan Ross (Wadham, 2000) and by Lisa Spooner, that French j’aime is the ultimate origin.

Denis Vandervelde (Exeter, 1952) digs deeper in this foreign field, comparing early French jambose, or ‘rose-apple’. Stephen Waddams (Jesus, 1981, Visiting Fellow) concurs: ‘I suggest jambo, or jambu, meaning “rose-apple”, used for making preserves. An Italian word for this fruit is giambo, which would explain the English spelling giam (OED 1747).’

Bob Turvey (interloping shamelessly from Trinity College, Cambridge, 1968) goes all out for onomatopoeia, opining that the word jam was first the ‘gobbling sound’ made by those eating it; ‘And then the next time they wanted some jam, they just made the same sound, which then became a proper word.’ Equally playfully, he also cooks up the hypothesis that jam began as an abbreviation for ‘Jamaican sugar’ to save time writing labels by hand. Ann Hinds casts her vote for the theory that the word came from a misreading of the double r in a 17th-century manuscript on ‘how to jarr plums’.

Finally, Chris Sladen (Christ Church, 1953) and Piers Burton-Page (Wadham, 1966) both hark back to an old rhyme in dog Latin: ‘Caesar adsum jam forte; Pompeius aderat.’ (Say it out loud for full punning effect.)

 

Anatoly Liberman’s verdict

Alas, if a word is of unknown origin, there must be a good reason for it. Guesswork may help, but it rarely does. The Caesar joke is as old as the hills of Rome. Perhaps I can even contribute to this folklore.  One sometimes said jam jam in Latin (e.g. jam jam intellego, quid dicas ‘Now I do understand what you are saying’). Apparently, Engl. yum-yum goes back to this reduplication: something is very tasty, and you purr contentedly: ‘At last, at last’ (but in Latin, to show your parents that the money spent on you has not been wasted). We’ll leave j’aime to those in love with sweeter things than fruit preserves.

All the serious conjectures are reasonable, but there is no evidence for them, and that is why jam remains a word of unknown / uncertain / disputed etymology (professionals have been very successful in hiding their ignorance behind face-saving terms). The conficere-Einmachen idea makes excellent sense, but jam does not look like a calque of either. Nor do we know enough of the early technology of jam (despite the recipes) to insist that the ingredients were really jammed into jars. Perhaps they were, perhaps they were not. For the jambo/jambu ‘rose apple’ derivation I can even cite a parallel: there is the forgotten word rob meaning approximately the same as jam; it is of Romance origin. But did the first producers of jam think of their invention as an import from the Romance-speaking world, and was it apple jam that gave rise to the many sorts of confiture? Leo Spitzer was an outstanding scholar, but his suggestion that jam derives for Old French jame ‘pitch’ is fanciful. So much for French.

Finally, references to onomatopoeia are also apt. The sound of j, whether initial or final, has a strong expressive value in English. It is enough to pronounce and then look up the origin of jab, job, jaunt, jerk, jib, jinx, jitter, jog, and smudge, budge, nudge, dodge to recognize their register and sometimes to discover their doublets with ch- or -g, or -d. Therefore, jam could be an emphatic variant of cham, champ, or some other similar formation. Once again: perhaps it was, perhaps it was not.

By this time it must be clear why the etymology of jam is ‘uncertain’: we have an embarrassment of riches but want to come away with a single jewel, convinced that all the rest is paste.

Anatoly Liberman is a philologist specialising in Germanic phonology, etymology, medieval literature, mythology and folklore; and also in Slavic poetic translation and Russian literature. Since 1975 he has been professor of Germanic philology at the University of Minnesota, but has spoken at several Oxford University conferences and is published by OUP.

Pots of jam made by Dr Joy Boyce will go out to Lesley Chamberlain for her ‘Einmachen’ observation, Denis Vandervelde and Stephen Waddams for their ‘rose-apple’ contributions, Pip Kirby for ‘champ’ and Bob Turvey for cheek.

Image by Skumer via Shutterstock.

Comments

By RH Findlay
on

History has it that Pompeius' claim to have had a rat is incorrect; it was Brutus, as Caesar sic in omnibus, Brutus sic in at. Hence no doubt the Roman civil war of those days.

As for German jam; my understanding that it is called marmalade pronounced with a German accent. One might consider how close the sound of "marm" is to "jam" and work backwards from that?

By Peter Kruschwitz
on

As for 'jam', I've heard the odd story that it was named after the (alleged) inventors from Dundee, a family named Keiller, with the husband's name being JAMes.

As for the idea that English yum-yum goes back to Latin 'iam iam' - that's utter nonsense, of course: it doesn't even mean 'at last', but rather 'now', 'instantly' or 'promptly'. Yum-yum is obviously related to miam-miam, a baby-talk imitation of eating movements and noises.

By Lesley MacDonald
on

Sorry the article missed lines 3 and 4 of the old dog Latin rhyme: Caesar sic in omnibus, Pompeius ineat.

By JPCToalster
on

The rhyme Caesar adsum jam forte, etc. is not quite correctly or completely quoted. The full version is:
Caesar adsum jam forte,
Brutus aderat.
Caesar sic in omnibus,
Brutus in is at.
A sad comment on the decline of classical studies in Oxford

By Christopher Kelk
on

My memory of the Caesar dog Latin is a little different, possibly a Yorkshire alternative. Viz:
"Caesar adsum jam forte,sed Brutus passus sum."

By Tim Keates
on

I have always known the rhyme as follows: Caesar adsum jam forte,/Brutus aderat;/ Caesar sic in omnibus,/Brutus sic in at. The pronuciation of 'forte' as 'for tea' was in line with the old public-school English pronunciation of Latin. This was employed in reading the English contribution to the First Vatican Council. None of the other participants understood a word. Fortunately, a transcript of the text was circulated.

By Anne Scott
on

We thought we were very smart, in our Essex secondary school in 1951, to be able to chant:
Caesar adsum jam forte/ passus sum sed Antony/ Brutus sic in omnibus/ Messis super omnia.

By J.Adams
on

Yes, darlings. Luvly, jubbly, but the jihadists are coming. Surely we need to be discussing - 'what are we going to do about that?' To hell with classical Latin and all that bunkum. It is too late for all that stuff. Let us get real.

By Paul Friedman
on

Cute stuff. My wife, who makes delicious jam, will be interested. pif

By Pepe Trueno
on

How about another Germanic hypothesis: the German word Jammer currently translates as whine or wail, but used to mean, tells me my Duden, "painful yearning" and "heartache" in its Old High German incarnation (jamar). Modern English has the word Yammer, a loud and repetitive noise, which, tells me my Oxford, derives from Middle English yomer and Old English geomrian, with probable meaning "to lament", so possibly related to jamar — Insatiability and pathos connects jam with *jam!

By Brian Rosen
on

As someone with ‘small Latin and less Greek’, familiar only with the now abandoned basic grammar of Linnean names of animals and plants, the words of various choral works I sing in, and the day-to-day Latin obfuscations of the medical profession, I have always wondered what ‘Caesar adsum jam ... [etc.]’, actually meant in plain English. I was therefore struck that amidst all the quaffing here about this hoary old joke, and its apparently waggish variants, nobody offered a translation. The classicists were ever thus in my Ivory Tower days (misere nobis). But as always, the venerable Molesworth sums up the situation perfectly: ‘All latin masters hav one joke. ‘Caesar adsum jam ....[etc.]’. n.b. a good roare of larffter will cut the leson by two minits six seconds or half a gender rhyme ....’

Actually I think Bob Turvey is on track with his Jam-aican connection, but there is a further vital piece of the jigsaw here. Clearly, back in the mists of time whenever a group of cheerful Jamaicans were working together in their kitchens to make Jamaican Sugar, someone started to call it ‘jammin’ ‘. The evidence? Bob Marley of course:-

We're jammin' -
To think that jammin' was a thing of the past;
We're jammin',
And I hope this jam is gonna last.

By Una Herbage
on

Has anyone looked for connexions in Indian etc. languages? Monica Ali from Bangladesh mentions in her novel "Brick Lane", p.91, a sweetmeat described as "sticky brown golubjam". Could someone from her country elucidate?

By Simon Cauchi
on

To answer Brian Rosen, the Latin is nonsensical. It's just English spelt as if it was Latin. (Caesar had some jam for tea, etc.) The Latin spellings are good Latin words, but they make no sense.

By Brian Rosen
on

To Simon Cauchi - I thought I'd thanked you earlier but it seems not to have been saved by the system. Sicut erat in principio - thanks this time round too.

Glad to learn, that in my ignorance, and after all these years, I had been utterly mistaken in believing that the Caesar adsum jam joke had genuine information content as a Latin sentence, rather than simply being a bit phonic phun.

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