Dr. Metablog

Dr. Metablog is the nom de blague of Vivian de St. Vrain, the pen name of a resident of the mountain west who writes about language, books, politics, or whatever else comes to mind. Under the name Otto Onions (Oh NIGH uns), Vivian de St. Vrain is the author of “The Big Book of False Etymologies” (Oxford, 1978) and, writing as Amber Feldhammer, is editor of the classic anthology of confessional poetry, “My Underwear” (Virago, 1997).

Etymological Panic

I can't remember what I was dreaming, but I woke up in a state of pure etymological panic — over the revelation that I didn't know the derivation or meaning of the "welter" part of "welterweight."  How could this be?  Context was not the least help:  lightweight, welterweight, middleweight, light-heavyweight, heavyweight.  Why not the more logical, more consistent "light-middleweight?"

What does "welter" mean?  I was barely awake, but I skimmed my mental resources.  German "welt" – world.  "Worldweight." Nonsense.  "Welt" as in a wound on the skin caused by a punch.  Possible, but, all boxers raise welts — that's what boxers do — not just welterweights.  A possible past tense of "weld."  No, that won't do. Boxers don't weld, or repair, anything. It was now time for a quick check of the mental Shakespeare concordance.  Whoops, a blank.  Mental Milton:  hold on, now, here's something:  the phrase "welter to the parching wind" in Lycidas.  But that particular "welter" means, I had always assumed "roll." In what sense would a welterweight "roll" more than any other size of boxer?  Another dead end.  OK, it's now time to get out of bed, fire up the computer, and check the on-line etymological dictionary. "Welterweight    1832, "heavyweight horseman," later "boxer or wrestler of a certain weight" (1896), from earlier welter "heavyweight horseman or boxer" (1804), possibly from welt (v.) "beat severely" (c.1400)." Now I'm starting to relax;  the panic is beginning to fade.  Nothing more calming than to discover that the internet doesn't have a better answer than I do.

But what the internet knows is intriguing. "Welterweight" used to mean "heavyweight" and then somehow devolved into something less than middleweight (147 pounds, to be exact, in American boxing)?  By what etymological process?  It all sounds arbitrary and inexplicable to me.  What is the root of "welter" in the sense of "heavy?"  To what words is it related.  And when and why did it come to be demoted?  Well, there are, as a well-known epistemologist liked to say, "known unknowns and unknown unknowns."  The history of "welter" is unknown to a power.

On the other hand, the word "welter" standing all by itself is very much known: "to roll or twist," c.1300, from M.Du. or M.L.G. welteren "to roll," from P.Gmc. *waltijanan (cf. O.E. wieltan, O.N. velta, O.H.G. walzan "to turn, revolve," Ger. wälzen "to roll," Goth. waltjan "to roll"), from PIE base *wel- "to turn, revolve")."

But hold on here.  The noun meaning "confused mass" is first recorded 1851.  That's the "welter" in, say, "his mind was a welter of confused etymological ideas."  Could the welterweight welter and the confused mass welter be related – in the sense that a "welterweight" is neither light nor heavy?  Well, it's a theory, but frankly, not a very good one. 

Besides, it's still the middle of the night, and it's time to return to bed.  The etymology of "welter" remains a mystery, but at least the symptoms of etymological stress have faded. Will sleep come  – or will I welter in a welter of confused thoughts?    

3 responses to “Etymological Panic”

  1. Otis Jefferson Brown Avatar
    Otis Jefferson Brown

    You’re not alone. I too have spent many a sleepless night over this vexing question.
    The answer, I think, lies in the origins of boxing’s welterweight division England in the mid-19th century. According to boxing maven Nat Fleischer, “the greatest welterweight ever produced in England” was a boxer called Young Dutch Sam (1808-1843), illegitimate son of Jewish boxer Dutch Sam Elias, who was born in the same Whitechapel area of London that later produced legendary Jewish fighters Jackie Berg and Ted Lewis. Young Dutch Sam was, in Fleischer’s words, “an extraordinary phenomenon, graceful of foot, and most accurate with his blows, which were brutal. He could whip any man with only his left hand, as demonstrated in his bout with Gypsy Cooper… His backer, Mr. Hughes Ball, a young man of wealth prominent in society, never lost a wager on Sam.” Early boxing historian Pierce Egan, in “Boxiana or Sketches Of Ancient and Modern Pugilism,” called him “one of (if not) the best fighting man in the kingdom.”
    Young Dutch Sam’s ethnicity probably offers the light at the end of our tunnel of ignorance, suggesting a simple explanation for the word “welterweight.” (In these matters, simplest is often best.) It’s not difficult to imagine that after being repeatedly hailed in England’s German- or Yiddish-language sporting press as the “Weltmeister” or, perhaps, “Welt-champion,” Young Dutch Sam came to be known to non-German-/Yiddish-speaking Englishmen as, simply, “the welter.”
    Of course further investigation is needed. As a non-academic, I’m not equipped with the scholarly discipline for this task, but fortunately, you are. All it requires is that you spend a few years poring through the archives of the British sporting press c. 1840 printed in Yiddish, German and English, and I’m sure the answer will become clear. Let me know what you find, and perhaps then we’ll both get a good night’s sleep.

  2. Axel Sprengtporten Avatar
    Axel Sprengtporten

    Otis is right on the money, as usual. The word “welterweight” derives from the German “welt,” coined when Young Dutch Sam became the first recognized champion in that weight division.

  3. Otis Jefferson Brown Avatar
    Otis Jefferson Brown

    Assertion = fact. Two sources in agreement = proof. That’s called internet research.

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