A pride of lions. A gaggle of geese. A murder of crows. The English language is full of peculiarities, but collective nouns are among the most remarkable. But what is a collective noun? Collective nouns are used to refer to a group of people or things, with some of the most well-known and frequently used relating to different groups of animals.
But did you know that there are dozens, if not hundreds, more of these weird and wonderful terms that have appeared throughout the ages? The idea of the collective noun flourished in the royal courts of 15th-century Europe and many English examples can be traced specifically to The Book of Saint Albans, published in 1486.
Containing vocabulary originally known as terms of venery – an archaic word meaning hunting – The Book of Saint Albans served as a primer for gentlemen-in-waiting, helping them boost their vocabulary and prepare themselves for a life at court. Featuring essays on heraldry, hunting and hawking, it included an appendage which features many of the collective nouns we’ve come to know and love, as well as some decidedly humorous offerings such as ‘a Fightyng of beggars, a Gagle of women, a Sentence of Juges and an uncredibilite of Cocoldis [cuckolds]’.
Over 500 years later, who decides what becomes a collective noun? The answer is nobody. Collective nouns are the language equivalent of a fun fashion accessory: anybody can create one and make it their own. Wordplay at its finest. In this blog, we’ll be exploring 9 weird and wonderful collective nouns and uncovering the etymology behind them, ready to add to your very own repertoire.
A misbelief of painters
Before smartphone cameras and HD video, it was pretty difficult to share a selfie or that amazing view with your friends. Which meant if you had a decent amount of skill with a paintbrush, there’s a good chance you’d make your living as a painter (an artist, not a decorator). The purpose of portrait painters was to provide a likeness of the sitter before them, that could be kept for centuries to come or share with a sweetheart. Naturally, this meant painters were subject to bias if they wanted to keep their wealthy patrons happy.
So why a misbelief of painters? History is littered with the casualties of misleading portraits, as Henry VIII’s ex-wife Anne of Cleves would gladly tell you. A misbelief isn’t an outright lie, it’s defined as a false or unorthodox belief, meaning a painter may employ artistic licence to make the finished work more flattering and find beauty in the subject. Which is why Oliver Cromwell told his portrait artist to capture ‘roughnesses, pimples, warts, and everything as you see me’, inspiring the phrase ‘warts and all’.
A nest of rumours
Not every collective noun has an obvious inspiration, but we can certainly take an educated guess. Take a nest of rumours, for example. A rumour is defined as a story or a piece of information that may or may not be true, but that people are talking about. Rumours are often perceived as troubling, for both people’s professional and personal reputations, and often they’re hard to stop once they get started.
On the other hand, we have a viper. Deadly and scary, often used to refer to a treacherous person and definitely able to bite you, a group of such snakes can be referred to as a nest of vipers. So, if we put these two things together, a nest of rumours connotes a group of rumours that are perhaps poisonous or even dangerous.
A superfluity of nuns
A collective noun that has fallen into obscurity – after all, how often do you see a group of nuns together these days? – a superfluity of nuns has two possible interesting origins. Superfluity refers to excess, meaning there is more of something than needed. This collective noun first appeared in medieval England, which had around 150 active nunneries, many of which were severely overcrowded.
During this period, the convent was a natural step for daughters of nobility who had passed marriageable age or a multitude of daughters whose marriage prospects were uncertain. It was also seen as a sign of devotion to give a child back to the church. Another potential meaning for the collective noun comes from Henry VIII’s Reformation the 16thcentury, where it’s believed the term could be a reference to the emerging view among agitators for church reform that the days of the monastery and convent were over.
A tabernacle of bakers
Definitely one of the phrases that falls on the side of weird, if only because a tabernacle is usually associated with religion. If we look at the dictionary entry, it’s defined among other things as a church used by certain Christian Protestant groups and by Mormons, a small portable tent which contained the most holy writings of the ancient Jews, or an ornamented cupboard holding consecrated Eucharist.
So, what, pray tell, has this got to do with bakers? Bread has been a staple of society for as long as we’ve been able to bake it, and centuries ago, kings of yore introduced strict rules around the making and sale of bread. One such law was that no baker was permitted to sell bread from beside their own oven, they could only sell from one of the king’s approved markets. These small stalls were known as tabernacula, diminutive of the Latin taberna, meaning hut or stall, so essentially any small temporary structure.
A parliament of owls
Perhaps one of the most bizarre and well-known collective nouns is a parliament of owls. It certainly brings to mind strong visuals of majestic birds sitting in a grand room discussing law and deciding policy. This phrase is relatively modern in origin, with usage dating back to the late 19thcentury, and it’s said to have been popularised in the 1953 children’s book The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis.
The idea references a poem by Geoffrey Chaucer, ‘Parliament of Fowls’. Written to commemorate the marriage of Richard II to Anne of Bohemia in 1382, this poem centres on a conference of birds who meet to choose their mates on St Valentine’s Day. Lewis’ reference changes ‘fowls’ to ‘owls’, this is now viewed as the correct collective noun for a group of owls, as far as they can be ‘correct’.
A melody of harpers
A delightful example of wordplay, a melody of harpers appears in The Book of Saint Albans to describe a group of people who play the harp. The medieval and early modern period is an era defined by chivalry and courtly love, with troubadours and minstrels playing a major role in daily life.
The harp was a popular choice for musicians and balladeers, for both the clarity of sound and the ease of transport, given that many troubadours would travel from court to court, or town to town, entertaining the masses. A melody, meaning tune, is the perfect way to describe a group of harpers.
A congregation of people
Used to describe a gathering or assembly of people, a congregation has undoubtably religious connotations. Its origin can be traced to early religious practices and the communities around them, where a number of individuals are bound by a set of rules and beliefs that dictate how they live their lives and where they come together in worship or prayer.
In modern usage, congregations are no longer exclusively religious. A congregation can be found in a range of contexts. For example, in education, a congregation of people may come together in classrooms to share knowledge or celebrate achievements. In a social setting, a congregation may attend a book club, go to a concert, or participate in a protest. It’s all about a sense of belonging and camaraderie.
A cry of hounds
If you’ve ever had a puppy, you’re probably all too familiar with crying hounds. Once upon a time, dogs – and particularly certain breeds of hounds and terriers – were more than household pets, and they played an active role in daily life and leisure pursuits. This collective noun once again has its origins in medieval times and is traditionally used to describe a group of hunting hounds.
Many noble families kept multiple dogs in kennels on their property, and they were used to hunt various animals for food and for pleasure, such as deer, rabbits, or foxes. The phrase ‘a cry of hounds’ is thought to come from the cry or signal that the master of foxhounds would use to instruct the hounds to begin the hunt.
A faith of merchants
In the online age, we’ve all experienced a shady retailer or two that sends us something we definitely didn’t mean to buy. Whether it’s a t-shirt that could fit a mouse or anything else with a misleading product photo, making a purchase can be a leap of faith on behalf of the customer. This was also true 600 years ago. If you wanted to sell anything in the Middle Ages, it was expected that you would join a guild of fellow traders, to prove you had permission to sell.
A faith of merchants refers to a group of merchants together, and the use of faith is a direct reference to the trustworthiness of the people you’re buying from, which was often used ironically given that merchants were rarely trusted. With weights and measures dictating much of trade in this period, it wasn’t unheard of for people such as bakers to add sawdust to bread to meet the standard.
Do you have a favourite collective noun, or have you created one of your own? Share them with us @CollinsDict.
By Rachel Quin
Rachel Quin is a freelance marketer and copywriter with a love of language, books and cats.
All opinions expressed on this blog are those of the individual writers, and do not necessarily reflect the opinions or policies of Collins, or its parent company, HarperCollins.
