Episode 183: The Fabric of Our Lives

In the early 1600s, cotton fabrics made in India were in high demand throughout Asia and Africa. When the English and Dutch arrived in India and Japan, they realized how popular the fabric was, and they soon began to ship it back to northern Europe. In this episode, we explore how the ‘cotton craze’ of the 1600s shaped the modern world, and shaped the English language. We also examine the end of the Shakespearean period and the second English dictionary.

8 thoughts on “Episode 183: The Fabric of Our Lives

  1. I have not researched the word, but I strongly suspect “talent” gained the modern sense of ability or gift from the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25). The parable almost demands expanding the meaning from a sum of money to the use of one’s abilities and gifts. I would bet preachers knowing only the original meaning of “talent,” when coming to this passage in the King James Bible, would do the same. It’s a very small step then to use talent in a non-religious context.

    While this is a modern translation from Greek, here is an ancient commentary found in an Orthodox Christian hymn, that shows this irresistible impulse to widen the application of talent:

    Come, O faithful,
    let us work zealously for the Master,
    for He distributes wealth to his servants!
    Let each of us, according to his ability,
    increase his talent of grace:
    let one be adorned in wisdom through good works;
    let another celebrate a service in splendor!
    The one distributes his wealth to the poor;
    the other communicates the Word to those untaught.
    Thus we shall increase what has been entrusted to us,
    and, as faithful stewards of grace,
    we shall be accounted worthy of the Master’s joy.
    Make us worthy of this, O Christ our God, //
    in your love for mankind!

    • Thank you for mentioning this. That parable is exactly what came to mind when Kevin was talking about talent in this episode.

    • I immediately thought of the parable too. Here is what the etymonline has to say about the word “talent” (in part):

      “The meaning “gift committed to one for use and improvement” developed by mid-15c., probably mostly from the parable of the talents in Matthew xxv.14-30. The notion is of something God has granted to one and for which one will render account at the Last Judgment. It may be also in part from or encouraged by the figurative sense of “wealth, treasures, riches.””

  2. Thanks for the episode! I was wondering about the use of “cotton” as a verb … which I don’t think you mention. I’m especially thinking of “cotton to”, whose origin seems murky. The OED’s first example of “cotton to” dates to 1805. The “World Wide Words” website has this theory: “In the early 1800s, to cotton to somebody implied that you were drawn or attached to that person. It may be that the idea here is how well a thread of cotton sticks to the surface of cloth.”

    • I don’t think there is a clear connection between the verb “to cotton to” and the cotton plant. The OED acknowledges that the connection is uncertain, and some sources suggest that the verb is completely unrelated to the cotton plant and actually comes from a separate Welsh word. The uncertainty surrounding that verb form is why I didn’t include it in the episode.

  3. I’m interested in Thomas Middleton. Tempest is unproven. Timon of Athens, about 37% (Emma Smith). Macbeth, about 11% (two songs and some witches-related text). Measure for Measure, some of the “racier” stuff. All’s Well that End’s Well? Middleton’s step-father was on two voyages to Roanoke, between the 1st and 2nd voyages the folks left behind between the voyages were lost. Middleton did quite a few pageants and things, wrote song, and went to St. Paul’s and worked with the choirboys there. That seems relevant to parts of the Tempest.

  4. Another very informative episode, thank you. On the common glottal stop in ‘cotton’, it’s interesting that the medial t in the original word for butter (Latin butyrum from Gk. bouturon, ‘cow cheese’) has also disappeared from the descendent words burro (Italian) and beurre (French).

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