Skip to main content

Bless me and my amazing etymological discovery (well, not quite)

Like many I have spent much of the Coronavirus situation working from home, with all of its highs and lows. One highlight of my Covid experience is being stuck at home with a housemate who grew up in Côte d'Ivoire and speaks French. Not only that, but he's been quite open and willing to teach me some French and use it patiently with me as I struggle to move beyond beginner's level. (in case you're wondering: my French is still not great, but I am amazed how much I have learned in a few weeks and how much I can actually use it with my housemate now. So cool!).

I am often asking questions of him to improve my knowledge. The other day when he sneezed and I asked (as any good linguist would) 'what do you say in French when someone sneezes?'. À tes souhaits he said, pronouncing it as something like /ˈatɛˌswɛ/.

Immediately a lightbulb went off! That's the word 'atishoo' from that song we did in Kindy! I started raving:
Ohmygodtheresthiskidssongthatweallusedtosingwhenwewerelittleandithadthisweirdwordinit"atishoo"anditdoesntmeananythingbutitslikethesoundofasneezeandnowIknowwhereitcomesfromohmygodI'mgoingtotweetaboutthisrightnowIlearnedthatsong40yearsagoandonlynowdoIfindoutwherethatwordcomesfrom
And my housemate humoured me kindheartedly and went back to playing a game on his phone while I excitedly started to Tweet something along the lines of:

I was today years old when I found out that the word 'atishoo' we used to sing in Ring-a-ring-a-rosie actually comes from the French way of saying 'bless you' after you sneeze
But before sharing my *amazing revelation* to the Twittersphere, I decided to check on my discovery. I Googled 'Atishoo'.

Here's the Collins Dictionary entry:
Meaning: a representation of the sound of a sneeze
me: what?! no, it's an Anglicisation of a French phrase meaning bless you
Origin: C19. Of imitative origin  
me: what?! no! it's not imitative!
And Merriam-Webster and Cambridge online dictionaries were basically the same! Maybe Wiktionary is a bit more dynamic and has more to say?
Alternative form of 'achoo'. 
Ok, nope.

At this point, I was falling off my chair. Two bombshells in the space of 10 minutes! And me thinking that I had made the most amazing etymological discovery of the century. "Noone has ever made the link between 'atishoo' and 'à tes souhaits' before!" (And also "which dictionary do I contact about this and how much glory will be showered upon me!?!").

But luckily I Googled further and learned that I was not, in fact, the Neil Armstrong of sneeze-related vocab etymologies, but that there were plenty who had observed the link. The Wiktionary entry has a short discussion in the back-end user commentary:
Is this the anglicised version of what the French say after someone has sneezed which is:- "A tes souhaits" or God Bless you? If this is said quickly sounds like atishoo and the French do say it quickly after someone has sneezed. (me: Yes, der., but the one reply dismissed it as 'plausible, but unprovable')
Looking around, the link is made many times over in comments and blogs. Another example: language learning app Duolingo (which has been very helpful in my French development) has discussion boards and one commenter also noted the atishoo/à tes souhaits link when discussing a list of handy phrases:


By this stage, I was beginning to calm my farm. Plenty of people of recognised that the weird word 'atishoo' we all sang in Kindy had wriggled its way there from the French phrase meaning 'bless you'. And it makes perfect sense in the context of the song Ring a Ring o Rosie too:
Ring-a-ring o' rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down
The Wikipedia page about the song points out that 'rosie' (which doesn't exist in my English lexicon) is borrowed directly from the French word for rosebush: rosier. It makes perfect sense that the third line of the song would also be a French borrowing. I 100% stand by my etymology of 'atishoo'.

I accept that I am no expert lexicographer or etymologist, but surely me and many others who have noted the atishoo/à tes souhaits link have a convincing argument based not just on phonology but also looking at context of the song in which it occurs (which is I'm sure how most people come to know the word). It seems like a real gap if dictionaries are not making the etymological link and to me it's quite insufficient to just say its 'of imitative origin'.

Now who's gonna show this to a lexicographer for me? I'd love to hear more thoughts on this if you have any.

Comments

JaneR said…
I just worked this out yesterday how funny! I'm a British long-time student of French.
Martin B said…
Early versions of ring a ring a rosie/roses tend not to contain the word 'atishoo' so this is not really evidence for your spurious etymology. More likely a variation of achoo plus a joke about tissues.
JaneR said…
@Martin B can you post an example of this early version please? TIA
Daphers said…
I made the link between 'a tes souhaits' and 'atishoo' also, when in conversation at my U3A French group I think it entirely plausible. In a similar way that toodleoo can be considered a corruption of 'a tout a l'heure'
Now in my later 70s, I have been using the word atishoo since early childhood and presume it to be older. It predates the widespread use of 'paper handkerchiefs' as we then called them. The word tissues came into general use later and refers to the tissue paper used to make the product. The similarity with the sound of the word atishoo seems coincidental
Louise Rolland said…
Thanks for doing the research! I too had this epiphany when someone sneezed today... in France. It suddenly occurred to me that to an untrained ear, "À tes souhaits" might well sound like "A-tishoo!". I'm not surprised that there's no written evidence, it's more of an oral expression. Seems very plausible unless somehow proved wrong!

Popular posts from this blog

The Oscar-winning Coda and its (mis)representation of interpreting (or, why I almost walked out of the cinema)

Ok so I'm a linguist not a movie critic but I am an avid movie-goer - part of the generation of Australians raised by Margaret and David to appreciate cinema and think critically about it. (I've even reviewed a few things on this blog: Short-doco Queen of the Desert , short film Lärr and some discussion of the brilliant Croker Island Exodus here ).  At this years Oscars, the film Coda surprised many by taking out Best Picture. It seems like few people have even had a chance to see it. Here in little ol' Katherine, we have a brilliant film society at our local Katherine 3 cinema, where each fortnight we get to watch something a bit different. In late 2021, I had the chance to see Coda there, long before it was thought of as an Oscar contender. Now that Coda is being talked about more than ever before, I wanted to share my experience of watching the film - especially because in one scene in particular, I was so angry that I genuinely considered walking out of the cinema -...

Stirring quotes from Aboriginal educators

Today I've been working on my submission for the Federal Government's Inquiry into Language Learning in Indigenous Communities.  As part of my research for my submission, I was searching for quotes from Aboriginal educators in support of bilingual education and Indigenous language education.  When I assembled the quotes, I found it pretty much heartbreaking to see the passion that is there when at the same time Indigenous language education is being denied because of the NT Government's ridiculous Compulsory Teaching in English for the First Four Hours policy.  Here's what I found today: What we want is both-way teaching in the school – not only for two hours a week but everyday there should be both-way teaching… That policy of speaking English only at the school is the wrong thing – it is not good for our children … they will forget their language  - Rembarrnga speaker Miliwanga Sandy (Beswick Community) (in Gosford 2009). I am a qualified bilingual teache...

Subtle features of Aboriginal English that I love: agreeing or confirming by copying

Linguists aren't supposed to play favourites, but I love Aboriginal English. Maybe because it's what the love of my life speaks and separating language from people and society isn't a realistic prospect. I'm lucky to regularly be around Aboriginal people speaking English in all sorts of ways and privileged to have insights into some of the more subtle ways in which Aboriginal ways of using English differ from the suburban white English I grew up speaking.  I want to share some of these more subtle features. Not just because I am fond of them but also because they seem to be features that escape the attention of most academic discussions of Aboriginal English / Aboriginal ways of using English. I'm going to skip over the complexities of what Aboriginal English is (and isn't) and also if/why that label is worth using at all (a chapter I wrote on Aboriginal English(es) dips into some of that discussion - email me if you want a copy). For brevity's sake, let...