Thoughts on the Latin word familia (Family)
hodiē:
nomen:
Original meaning — ‘house full of slaves’
In Latin, familia began as a collective noun meaning ‘all the slaves belonging to one master’ based on a common Latin
word for slave-servant, famulus.
The Romans appear to have borrowed the word from their Italian neighbours, one race of whom were the Osci. By 350
BCE Rome had conquered the Osci. The Oscan word for ‘slaves of the household’ was famelo, while Oscan for household
slave was famel.
A little later in Latin, familia came to mean all the people over whom the paterfamilias (Latin ‘head of the household’)
held sway. That included his wife, his sons and his daughters. So even in Latin familia sometimes meant ‘members of
one’s immediate family,’ and sometimes the extended circle of one’s blood relatives out to second and third cousins.
Dominus Illuminatio Mea ‘The Lord is my Light’
Paterfamilias was not the most common Latin word for
‘master of the house.’ That was dominus, based on domus
‘house, estate.’ Dominus gives the Latin Bible the name for
Jesus, Dominus =Lord, and gives English the verb, to
dominate. The Biblical quotation that heads this paragraph
is the motto of the University of Oxford and appears
frequently as part of the printer’s device which is the
emblem of Oxford University Press.
Other English words from the same root are domain
through French demaine and, perhaps surprisingly, the
term dame meaning ‘lady’ through Old French from Latin
domina ‘mistress, lady,’ feminine of dominus ‘master of a
domus’ Latin ‘house.’
Romans Who Abused Their Slaves
were Roman Trash
Every Roman did not treat slaves badly. Here’s a satirical
comment on cruelty to servants from that deft comic
epigrammatist, Martial (circa 39 CE to 103 CE). Born in
Spain, Marcus Valerius Martialis arrived in Rome as a new
boy and viewed the eternal city’s shenanigans from a witty
immigrant’s dry perspective. This is from his third book of
epigrams, a rebuking couplet about punishing a kitchen
slave (# 94):
Esse negas coctum leporem poscisque flagella.
Mauis, Rufe, cocum scindere quam leporem.
“You deny that your rabbit is cooked and call for the whip.
You’d rather cut up your cook, Rufus, than your rabbit.”
The implication is: Rufus, you abuse your slaves.
Four female slaves dress a Roman lady’s hair in this relief from a
family tomb found at Neumagen. (Landesmuseum, Trier)
DIIS MANIB(US) ANTHI
L(UCIUS) . IULIUS . GAMUS . PATER . FIL(IO) . DULCISSIM(O)
On the lateral of a Roman funeral altar circa 50-70 CE, the Latin inscription means
“To the gods of the dead, a father, Lucius Julius Gamus [set up this tomb marker] for his very sweet young son, Anthus.”
Lucius had borrowed a Greek word anthos ‘flower’ to name his son. In ancient Rome, Anthus or Anthos did not have any
effeminate taint, as naming a boy Flower might have today in English.
To a Roman ear, Anthus would also hint of an affectionate diminutive of the more common Roman male given name
Antonius. Anthus was not such a diminutive. On the plaintive tombstone, Anthus’ little pet dog tugs at the dead boy’s
toga, inviting him to leave the gloomy banks of Lethe, river of death, and come to play once more in the garden of life.
Getting Too Familiar?
The first Latin meaning of the adjective familiaris was ‘belonging to one’s own household.’ Extended meanings followed
in Latin, most of them borrowed into French and English along with the Latin adjective. Familiaris referred to anything
private and personal, as opposed to public. Further semantic generalization occurred to render familiaris as meaning
‘well-known, customary, welcome, suitable, etc.’ — all senses familiar in English.
Of course, familiarity breeds contempt. Let us squelch that, by quitting this column.
copyright © 2012 William Gordon Casselman
http://www.billcasselman.com/