One interesting result of this is the English word “teenager.” The nearest equivalent in, say, Spanish is the cognate of “adolescent” – the Spanish numbering system doesn’t produce a handy word like this. I suppose a word could have developed like *diesialgo for someone aged 16 to 19, and might have reinforced some concept of “late adolescence.” That the lowest English “-teen” number happens to coincide more or less with the onset of puberty is just a lucky coincidence. Average puberty onset has been getting earlier in recent decades; I wonder if, in some subtle way, the English-speaking mind is having trouble internalizing this fact, because it breaks the neat concept of “teenager.”
Aaah OK. Clever !
English has invented a new word for the concept :“tween”.*
Does any other language have a word for this?
*(defined as " a young person between 10 and 12 years of age, considered too old to be a child and too young to be a teenager.)
from dictionary.com
Is this why the Babylonians had a sexagesimal (“60”) based counting system?
Not sure, but the Babylonian sexagesimal system is where we get the 60-minute hour. The Egyptians came up with the idea of dividing the day into 24 work shifts, but the Babylonians decided that having only 24 distinct times of day wasn’t enough and decided to divide the hour into the number of units that made the most sense to them given their language and culture.
The Babylonian system was partly based on the observation that the year had about 360 days, which lent itself well to 60 x 6, which (like 12) have nice fractional factors (or whatever they’re called).
Good question. Spanish would be preadolescente. Again, English lucks out with a fortuitous pun. “Between” in Spanish is entre – how about adolescentre? You heard it here first!
It’s from the Old English “endleofan” (“one left”) and “twelfe” (“two left”).
In Welsh, it’s an arddegwr—“on-ten-er.” The numbers that use “ar ddeg” run from “un ar ddeg” (11) to “pedwar ar ddeg” (14), but in general the word is used to map English “teenager” rather than “tween.” I suppose teenager proper would be “arbymthegwr” (15–19) but nobody uses it. Pity: it would be a useful distinction. “Arhugeinwr” would be 20–39, and “Arddeugeinwr” could be 40–59.
Just nipped me, but I still wanted to say that I don’t think English ever used a duodecimal system. At any rate, everyone used Roman numerals which is base 10 if it can be called anything. Until, one Leonardo, son of Bonacci (aka known as Fibonacci–yes that Fibonacci) came back from doing some business in North Africa with this new way of writing numbers from the Arabs (who got it from the Hindus). It took a long time to catch on and there, of course, still vestiges of it use. Like movies made in MMXIV.
Only half the numbers are odd, really.
Even the other half.
This is more true than you might imagine, as the French Academy formally standardizes the language (unlike in English, were common use prevails).
Tries to standardize the language, and does a poor job at that. The French language, as spoken, written and described in dictionaries and grammars is the product of a broad consensus. Please, let’s stop repeating this old saw.
Ugh, while consensus may truly prevail, that is irrelevant to my point. The awkward construct of “quatre-vingt (dix-…)” for 80 and 90 survived because government bureaucrats shoved it down everyone’s throats til it stuck. Government documents, for instance, would presumably be forced to use it, and from there usage would trickle down to the masses.
That doesn’t really account for its creation or the first thousand-plus years of its survival. Did you think it was invented in 1635?The construction only feels awkward to you because your native language works differently.
I did! And I enjoyed reading it. Thanks!
BTW, welcome to The Straight Dope!
It was created as part of a rational system based on the number 20. It then survived because the elite and powerful liked it, and was eventually formalized by the government.
I would image the French Revolutionist would have wanted to do away with it, seeing as they tried to change the calendar and all that. Language purists probably reacted strongly against the change in response.
Seeing as Belgium and other areas developed alternatives for 70, 80 and 90, I don’t think it is a stretch to say that it was due to central mandate in France that the construct ancien should be preserved.
The French Wikipedia articles “80 (nombre)” ant “Système_vicésimal”, while not vigorously sourced, describes an ancient system Base 20 systems using “vingt, deus-vingt, trois-vingt, quatre-vignt…” that became mixed with the decimal system following the Middle Ages. The French Academy choose this as its preferred method (“soixante-dix, quatre-vingt-dix, etc”) when it was established in the 1600’s.
No one shoved it down my throat. I say “quatre-vingt-onze” because that’s what my parents, and everyone else around me said, and my children count the same way because that’s the way I count.
You, like many English writers, give the Académie far too much power. The fact is that both decimal and vigesimal systems are as old as the French language. Historically, the vigesimal system was more common in western dialects, whereas the decimal system was more common in eastern dialects. While early prescriptivists like Vaugelas (yes, an original member of the Académie) discouraged the used of the decimal system, it survived in standard French well into the 18th century.
People in Belgium and Switzerland say “septante” because they always have. People in Canada say “soixante-dix” because their ancestors mostly came from western France and spoke western dialects – “septante” was never used there. In France, “soixante-dix” is standard because western dialects won out, because that’s what was spoken in Paris. Yes, the government played a large role in the standardization of language, but that’s not at all a unique aspect of French. UK English is standardized on dialects spoken around London, Japanese is standardized on the Tokyo dialect. Standard Mandarin is based on the Beijing dialect, and so on and so forth. The existence of an ineffectual prescriptivist organisation (<- that’s the spelling that was shoved down my throat by my government) in France should be little more than a footnote.