From the data above, it seems that lower-level constructions could derive from the longest, high-level QUÉ…NI QUÉ.Cxn (
niño muerto/ocho cuartos/ni hablar). This hypothesis will be tested in
Section 4.1,
Section 4.2,
Section 4.3 and
Section 4.4, where a more detailed analysis of the QUÉ…NI QUÉ.Cxn is provided in (
Section 4.1), along with the analysis of two lower-level constructions derived from it:
ni qué ocho cuartos (
Section 4.2), and
ni qué niño muerto (
Section 4.3). Finally, the
ni hablar del peluquín construction will be analyzed in (
Section 4.4) to explore the impact of indirect inheritance relationships among constructions.
For a more comprehensive account, further constructions should be studied, such as ni hablar (de eso), ni loco, or ni que Vimp.subj.Cxn (ni que fuera X, ni que hubiera X, etc.). Due to time and space restrictions, the explanation is limited to the most deeply entrenched constructions. Future research will provide a more complex view of the extended family of constructions.
4.1. (Ni) qué…ni qué > Ni qué…7
The
Ni qué…ni qué.Cxn is first documented in the 16th century and seems to have evolved, in turn, from an earlier
no…ni que… construction. Its first occurrences remain under the scope of a negative trigger (Sp.
no), creating a negative agreement relationship (
Sánchez, 1999) with the
ni qué…ni que.Cxn, as shown in (17):
17. Ni qué diga ni qué ‘scriva/ ya no sé, ni qué me quiera/ no me da mi suerte esquiva /ni más mal, porque no muera/ ni menos, porque no biva. |
Nor what to say, nor what to write/ I know not, nor what to will/ Fickle fate grants me no spite/ To let me die, nor yet goodwill/ To let me live and suffer still. |
(CDH. 1514–1542. Boscán, Juan. Poesías) |
Simultaneously, a second, alternate construction is documented in the same time span, where
ni, though next to a negative trigger, is not under its scope and functions as a negative trigger itself (within a rhetorical question). This is evident from the different modalities in the sentence hosting
no (declarative) and in the sentence hosting
ni (interrogative) in example (18). The
ni qué…ni qué construction retains its distributive meaning:
18. ¿Y vosotros pensáis que os quiere más algún santo que Dios?, no por çierto; ¿ni que es más misericordioso, ni que ha más compasión de vos que Dios?, no por çierto. Pero pedíslo a los santos porque nunca estáis para hablar con Dios |
And do you think that any saint loves you more than God? Certainly not. Or that they are more merciful or have more compassion for you than God? Certainly not. But you pray to the saints because you are never ready to speak with God (CDH. 1553–1556. Villalón, Cristóbal de. El Crótalon de Cristóforo Gnofoso) |
Finally, in a third construction (19),
ni qué is no longer a distributive, but a copulative negative conjunction, having lost its second part (
ni qué… ni qué >
ni qué). Additionally, the preceding context (the question before
ni que) is no longer negative but a rhetorical question implying a negative answer; this implied answer licenses
ni in the immediate surrounding context. Therefore, the loss of the second
ni and the implicit, contextual negative meaning, characterize this insubordinate NI QUÉ construction
(19) Fulminato: ¿Y qué te he llevado yo? ¿Ni qué has hecho por mí? Cata que tus |
pecados nuevos te traen a que pagues tus viejos vicios a mis manos |
Fulminato: And what have I brought you? Or what have you done for me? Know that |
your new sins are bringing you to pay for your old vices into my hands (CDH. 1554. |
Rodríguez Florián, Juan. Comedia llamada Florinea) |
During the 17th century, the interrogative
ni qué construction loses its link with a negative environment. In turn, it strengthens bounds with the preceding interrogative question, thus creating a complex construction:
¿CÓMO/QUÉ…? ¿NI QUÉ …?20. ¿Cómo podré vivir sin comer? ¿Ni qué me dará quien me quita el pan cotidiano y el agua de mis refrigerios? ¿Qué vida será la mía si me privan de todo lo que me daba gusto en ella? |
How shall I live without eating? Nor what shall he give me who taketh away my daily bread and the water of my refreshments? What life shall be mine if they deprive me of all that gave me joy therein? (CDH. 1598. Fray Alonso de Cabrera. De las consideraciones sobre todos los evangelios de la Cuaresma) |
This complex construction is profusely used during the late Baroque (1600–1650) and the first half of the 18th century. Around 1730, minor pre-constructional changes in modality arise, as this construction is documented in exclamative sentences. Notwithstanding this, the semantic relationship with the preceding sentence is maintained:
21. ¡Qué injuria más atroz que esta sospecha! Ni, ¡qué agravio más público que el discurso |
de cuatro amigos en una celda del convento! |
What outrage more heinous than this suspicion! Nay, what insult more public than the |
talk of four friends in a convent cell! (CDH. 1758. Isla, José. Fray Gerundio Campazas) |
While all previous examples are clearly monologic, example (22) below is dialogic. Note that this change of scope encompasses that the former
¿Qué…? ¿Ni qué…? construction has turned into a new ¿
Qué…ni qué…! construction:
22. —Lo dicho, dicho, padre maestro -respondió el predicador-: le alabo y le alabaré; porque si todos los sermones se hubieran de examinar con esa prolijidad, y si en ellos se hubiera de reparar en esas menudencias, allá iba a rodar toda la gala y toda la valentía del púlpito. |
-¡Qué gala ni qué valentía de mis pecados! -exclamó el maestro Prudencio-. ¿Es gala el decir tantos disparates como palabras? |
“What’s said is said, Father Master,” replied the preacher. “I praise you and will continue to do so; for if every sermon had to be examined with such meticulousness, and if one had to take note of such trifles, all the splendor and boldness of the pulpit would be lost.” |
“Splendor and boldness, my sins be damned!” exclaimed Master Prudencio. “Is it splendor to utter as many absurdities as words?” (CDH. 1758. Isla, José. Fray Gerundio Campazas) |
Formally, the
¿Qué…? ¿Ni qué …? construction transforms into a
¡Qué X ni qué Y!Cxn The former two sentences amalgamate into one, exhibiting a common exclamative modality and a single prosodic contour. Semantically, the new construction shows an emphatic contrast between a first sentence (
toda la gala y toda la valentía) and the negative evaluation of that first sentence (
¡qué gala ni qué valentía!) by a second speaker. The clausal negative concord in the earliest examples has turned now into a refutative, dialogical meaning.
8Additionally, the open slots in the
ni que.Cxn are filled in with words from the previous turn (uttered by Speaker A), explicitly negated in the construction (uttered by Speaker B):
![Languages 10 00263 i001 Languages 10 00263 i001]()
One hundred years later, in monological examples, post-constructional changes arise, such as shifts in modality: exclamative-declarative (23), and declarative-exclamative (24). Although punctuation might not accurately reflect the actual prosody of these constructions, the exclusion of interrogatives and the varied solutions adopted by different writers suggest changes in the prosodic structure of this construction, occurring in dialogical and monological yet polyphonic constructions (
Ducrot, 1984):
23. —Yo asistí a la batalla de Bailén, y allí por casualidad singular, vinieron a mis |
manos unas cartas… |
Amaranta ni se inmutó. |
— Señora, si he sabido casualmente alguna cosa que no debía saber, yo juro a usía |
que el secreto no ha salido de mis labios ni saldrá mientras viva. |
La condesa pareció poseída de nerviosa exaltación. |
— ¡Estás loco! —exclamó. |
— ¡Qué majaderías me cuentas! Ni qué tengo yo que ver con esas cartas ni con ese |
hombre… |
— I was present at the Battle of Bailén, and there, by a most singular chance, some |
letters came into my hands… |
Amaranta did not flinch. |
— Madam, if by chance I have learned something I should not have, I swear to you |
that the secret has not passed my lips, nor shall it while I live. |
The Countess seemed possessed by a nervous agitation. |
— You are mad!—she exclaimed. What nonsense you tell me! What do I have to do with those letters or that man… (CDH. 1874. Galdós. Napoleón en Chamartín) |
24. Si Gracia manifestó esperanzas, Demetria no, afirmándose en la seguridad de que Dios les mandaba apurar hasta el fin las amargas heces del cáliz. Fernando no les decía nada. ¡Ni qué había de decirles! Aseguró Gainza, cuando ya estaban cerca, que los habitantes de las ruinas abandonaban sus madrigueras antes del día para ir al trabajo. |
If Gracia entertained hopes, Demetria did not, relying on the certainty that God had commanded them to endure to the end the bitter dregs of the cup. Fernando said nothing to them. What could he say to them? Gainza assured them, when they were already near, that the inhabitants of the ruins left their burrows before daybreak to go to their labor. (CDH. 1876. Galdós. De Oñate a la Granja.) |
Note that, in (24) the narrator’s voice (Fernado no les decía nada), contrasts with a character’s evaluation on that statement (¡Ni qué había de decirles!) in a clear polyphonic schema.
In the 20th century,
ni qué becomes specialized as a dialogical construction, where speaker B strongly disagrees with speaker A’s preceding words, as in example (25):
25.—De paso. Salgo esta tarde en el Mazagán para Marruecos. Le voy a curar unas cataratas al Majzen, y llevo seis vagones de bellotas para hacer café. |
— ¡Demonio! |
— Lo que oyes. |
— Pero, tú ¿eres médico?… ¿Desde cuándo?… ¿Ni qué bellotas?… |
— ¡Negocios, hijo! Café para Marruecos: he montado en Fez un tostadero. Curo también la vista, con nitro y excremento de elefante. Vente a almorzar. ¡Tenemos que hablar mucho!… Me encontrarás rehabilitado, potentado, poderoso… |
— By the way, I depart this afternoon on the Mazagán for Morocco. I am going to cure some cataracts for the Majzen, and I’m bringing six wagons of acorns to make coffee. |
— Devil! |
— What you hear. |
— But tell me, are you a doctor?… Since when?… And what acorns? |
— Business, my boy! Coffee for Morocco: I’ve set up a roastery in Fez. I also cure sight, with nitro and elephant dung. Come to lunch. We have much to discuss!… You’ll find me rehabilitated, prosperous, powerful… (CDH.1908. Felipe Trigo. A prueba) |
In conclusion, the complex NI QUÉ…NI QUÉ.Cxn evolves over time into a simpler ¡(QUÉ)…NI QUÉ!Cxn. This evolution exhibits the form-and-meaning features of a standard constructionalization: routinization and constituent loss, association with specific prosodic schemata (exclamative and interrogative), and specialization in dialogic environments and in pragmatic meanings (refutative, intensification). This complex, broad-spectrum construction licenses other derived constructions such as those studied in (
Section 4.2 and
Section 4.3):
ni qué ocho cuartos and
ni qué niño muerto. The development of this low-level constructions may be responsible for the activation of the “cousin” (See
Section 5.2) construction
¡ni hablar del peluquín! (
Section 4.4), driven by the vitality of sister (and cousin) constructions.
4.2. Qué…ni qué ocho cuartos
The
Qué…ni qué ocho cuartos.Cxn (henceforth, 8/4.Cxn) is first attested in the corpus in 1761:
26. Todos: ¿Ayala amigo? |
Ayala: ¿Qué amigo, qué Ayala, ni qué ocho cuartos? Ya es otro tiempo, señores. (Aparte.) ¡Que hasta aquí me han atisbado! |
All: Ayala, my friend! |
Ayala: What friend, what Ayala, what nonsense! Times have changed, gentlemen. (Aside.) They’ve been spying on me all this time! (CDH. 1761. Ramón de la Cruz. La avaricia castigada. Entremés nuevo). |
Example (26) is from a theater play where Ayala reacts to a previous interventio, in which the chorus addresses him with the vocative “Ayala, my friend”. The rejection takes the form of a refutative three-part construction, where the terms “friend”, “Ayala” and 8/4 are negated, highlighting the total inadequacy of the chorus’s remark to the situation. In this series, 8/4 functions as a generalized extender.
(26) is contemporaneous in time with example (22) above. In fact, the 8/4.Cxn is a subtype of the QUÉ…NI QUE.Cxn; the only difference lies in the fact that all constituents in the second part are fixed and can be interpreted as an idiom:
A: | …x… | |
B: | ¿Qué x ni qué ocho cuartos? |
A plausible hypothesis for this development is that, once a semi-schematic construction, with a degree of generalization
n is created, then
n − 1, lower-level constructions are licensed (See
Section 5.2). In this case, the relationship would be as follows:
![Languages 10 00263 i002 Languages 10 00263 i002]()
The 8/4.Cxn in example (26) can be described as the conjunction of six conversational features recurrently found in the corpus: oral, dialogical, colloquial, echoic, refutative, and context-bound.
9As an oral construction, it is used in text types mimicking orality, such as theater plays and novels. It is found in the voice of the characters, not in narrator’s descriptions, making it typically dialogical or polyphonic.
Oral does not necessarily mean
colloquial. Orality refers to the mode, while colloquial refers to the register (
Coseriu, 1978). Oral excerpts can be highly formal (e.g., a parliamentary session) and written texts can be highly informal (e.g., a Whatsapp chat). However, the prototype of oral texts is spontaneous conversation (
Briz et al., 1995).
The 8/4.Cxn is tightly
context-bound, specifically to the previous turn: Speaker A says something (in most cases, a NP) rejected (
refuted) by Speaker B in the next turn
10:
- –
…x…
- –
¿Qué x ni qué niño muerto?
This construction is
echoic (interpretive) by nature. Since the open slot in the 8/4.Cxn is filled in by a constituent from the previous intervention, a narrow dependency between speaker A’s and speaker B’s interventions is established. Hence, the discourse unit over which the 8/4.Cxn operates is not Speaker B’s intervention, but a two-part, broader-scope unit called
exchange (
Roulet et al., 1985;
Briz & Grupo Val.Es.Co., 2002).
Although first documented in the 18th century, the 8/4.Cxn was most prolific in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, as shown in
Figure 1 and
Figure 2 (data extracted from BVPH). Note that
Figure 1 plots the absolute frequencies between 1840 and 2020 whereas
Figure 2 normalizes frequencies using a beeswarm plot. In this plot, the data cluster around the period 1880–1920, as indicated by the size and color of the dots (the darker the color, the more frequent the data):
After the peak in 1900–1930 there is a sudden decay in the corpus, as evident in both absolute and normalized frequency graphs.
4.3. Qué…ni qué niño muerto…
The Qué…ni qué niño muerto.Cxn (henceforth, NM.Cxn) derives from an earlier construction, “qué niño envuelto” (lit. what-wrapped-child), as explicitly indicated in the Diccionario General etimológico, where both constructions are considered alternates:
¿Qué niño envuelto ó muerto? Expresión familiar con que alguno desprecia ó rechaza lo que se le propone ó se le pide (
Barcia, 1887)
Qué niño envuelto. Expresión familiar con que alguno desprecia ó rechaza lo que se le propone ó se le pide. Lat.
Res inutilis vel inopportuna (
Real Academia Española, 1726–1739).
This expression, in turn, derives ultimately from the Latin phrase
puer involutus (in pannis), which describes the baby Jesus in the manger.
Puer involutus was a common shortcut
to refer to the Holy Child, as evidenced in
Figure 3 by a word-cloud analysis in the
Patrologia Latina database (
Michigan, 2013), where
involutus strongly associates with
pannis, but also with
praesepio:
The preconstructional change niño envuelto > niño muerto could be attributed to the formal similarity between the words muerto and envuelto, as well as to the visual analogy between an infant wrapped in swadding clothes and a shrouded corpse.
The modern form is first attested in 1822, sharing all the features described for the 8/4.Cxn: oral, dialogical, echoic, colloquial, refutative, and context-bound:
27. ¿Ves qué rosa tan bonita? acércatela á la nariz; qué huele ?—Qué oler, ni que niño muerto! Si es hortiga |
Do you see how pretty this plant is? Bring it close to your nose; what does it smell like?”—“Smell? Nonsense, as if it were something rotten! It’s just nettle! (La tercerola. 1822. BVPH) |
Example (27) appears in a satirical publication where a character makes an interrogative statement, whose relevance is rejected by a second character by using the NM.Cxn
In the subsequent years, it is used in exactly the same contexts as in example (27). Most of the samples come from two sources: novels (reproducing dialogs as in example 28) and the press (especially in satirical publications or in sections where humor prevails, such as
varia,
anecdotes, etc.), again reproducing dialogs between fictional characters:
28. — Quita, quita. Pobres pero honrados. Yo no puedo aceder a sus deseos -dijo Charito acentuando esta frase que era de las que más presentes tenía, por haberla leído repetidas veces en una novela. |
— Qué deseos ni qué niño muerto. Si no se trata de eso. Deja tú que yo me arregle con él para eso de la elección. Como es ministerial, figúrate. |
No, no. Poor but honest. I cannot comply with their wishes—said Charito, emphasizing this phrase, which was one she often recalled, having read it repeatedly in a novel. |
— What wishes, and what nonsense! It’s not about that. Leave it to me to handle the matter with him regarding the election. Since it’s ministerial, just imagine. (CDH. 1872. Pérez Galdós, Benito. Rosalía.) |
Around 1880, the immediate context needed for the NM.Cxn becomes more flexible. In some examples, long-distance dependencies are needed to identify the antecedent:
29. Declaro que Un paisano de Ramón falta a la verdad a sabiendas cuando me acusa de haber llamado sublime a la Pretel y genial a Loreto Prado. |
De la Pretel dije: […] |
Y de la Loreto hablé así: […] |
Y en otra parte añadí, refiriéndome también a Loreto: […] |
¡Qué sublime, ni qué genial, ni qué niño muerto!”. |
I declare that Un paisano de Ramón is knowingly lying when he accuses me of having called Pretel sublime and Loreto Prado a genius. |
Of Pretel, I said: […] |
And of Loreto, I spoke like this: […] |
And elsewhere I added, also referring to Loreto: […] |
“What sublime, what genius, or what nonsense!” (BVPH. 1900. La Correspondencia de España, 8 October 1900) |
Also, vague contextual references license the refutative meaning of NM.Cxn:
30. Cuando entró el Provisor, disminuyó el ruido; los más se volvieron a él, pero el jefe se contentó con poner una mano delante de la cara como rechazando a todos los importunos y se fue a una mesa a preguntar por un expediente de mansos. “Lo que él decía; en las oficinas de Hacienda pública no daban razón; los expedientes de mansos dormían el sueño eterno, cubiertos de polvo.” |
El señor Carraspique daba pataditas en el suelo. |
— ¡Estos liberales! -murmuraba cerca del Magistral-. ¡Qué Restauración ni qué niño muerto! son los mismos perros con distintos collares… |
When the Provisor entered, the noise diminished; most turned towards him, but the chief was content merely to place a hand before his face, as though rejecting all the importunate, and went to a table to inquire about a file of the mansos. “What he said was true; in the offices of the Treasury, no one could provide an answer; the files of the mansos lay in eternal slumber, covered in dust.” |
Mr. Carraspique was tapping his feet on the floor. |
— These liberals!—he murmured near the Magistral.—What Restoration, what nonsense! They’re the same dogs with different collars…(CDH. 1884. Leopoldo Alas, “Clarín”. La Regenta). |
In (30), Carraspique’s negative assessment of the current government (These liberals!) opens a framework enabling a refutation of this hypernym—the political system itself (that is, the Restoration).
Examples (29) and (30) show that the tight contextual dependency in early examples of this construction is relaxed, though reference to a first part must still be kept or at least evoked.
The NM.Cxn was a low frequency construction until 1880–1910, when most of its occurrences are concentrated in the corpus.
Figure 4 and
Figure 5 show the absolute and the normalized frequencies of the NM.Cxn, interpreted similarly to
Figure 1 and
Figure 2 above:
The peak productivity of the NM:Cxn coincides in time with that of the 8/4.Cxn, suggesting some kind of mutual influence between both sister constructions. Its vitality, though, appears stronger in subsequent decades. As the NM.Cxn is more humorous than the 8/4.Cxn, the temporal precedence of the former over the latter makes sense, since a “shift from humorous to more humorous mode” seems plausible once an initial construction has paved the way.
4.4. Ni hablar del peluquín
Ni hablar del peluquín (henceforth, NHDP.Cxn), (lit.,
do not even speak about the periwig), not being a sister construction of the (NI) QUÉ…NI.Cxn family, is deeply entrenched with it.
Table 3 presents a tentative genealogic tree of the three constructions examined in this study
11: higher-level constructions (Level 1) develop into middle-level constructions (Levels 2 and 3) leading to lexicalized constructions (Level 4).
While the 8/4.Cxn and the NM.Cxn ultimately derive from a higher-level QUÉ.Cxn, NHDP.Cxn derives from a higher-level NI.Cxn However, between these two levels, intermediate constructions are found. Ni.Cxn develops into
Ni (+que/+inf).Cxns. The first combines with the
Qué+O.Cxn to give rise to the 8/4 and NM constructions. The second develops into the fully fledged
Ni hablar del peluquín.Cxn through the intermediate low-level construction
Ni hablar de es(t)o.Cxn The third serves as the basis for
¡Ni es que ni es ca! (not described in this paper). NM, 8/4 and NHDP are, in a sense,
cousins (See
Section 5 for a discussion on the types of relationships linking the constructions considered here).
Historically, NHDP.Cxn became possible due to the preexisting
Ni hablar de es(t)o.Cxn This root construction shares with the
8/4 and the
NM.Cxns their insubordinate, dialogic, context-bound character, but in different key ways:
Ni hablar de esto.Cxn is related to the semantic field of saying, a productive source in Spanish, for idioms (
ni qué decir tiene, es un decir, dicho esto, etc.) or for discourse markers (
es decir). As the act of saying is negated, a refutative meaning arises, but this meaning is not polyphonic and closer to a literal interpretation (that is, more descriptive than interpretive—
Sperber & Wilson, 1981).
Ni hablar de esto.Cxn is first documented in 1895:
31. LAS ELECCIONES |
— Ni hablar de eso por ahora. |
El Gobierno tiene otras preocupaciones más perentorias |
THE ELECTIONS |
— Don’t even bring that up for now. |
The Government has more urgent matters to attend to. (BVPH. 1895. La Opinión: periódico político y de intereses generales) |
Example (31) is from an interview where the answers are grouped by theme. Ni hablar de eso functions as a refutative, elaborated response to a previous question.
Ni hablar de eso is documented 203 times in the BVPH, peaking around 1930, with most occurrences between 1950 and 1980, as shown in
Figure 6 and
Figure 7:
It seems plausible to conclude that NHDP evolved from this preexisting construction, as did the shorter ni hablar. Ni hablar de esto.Cxn likely served as the template for expansion and reduction, yielding these younger related constructions.
NHDP is associated with the title of popular song (
tanguillo) in a music show in 1942 (
https://cvc.cervantes.es/foros/leer_asunto1.asp?vCodigo=37152 and 1de3.com [accessed on 26 February 2025]). It is unclear whether NHDP.Cxn was an individual creation or if reflects rather a longer-lasting idiom. Otherwise said: the dilemma of whether this construction is an individual creation or a popular saying picked up by the author admits two reasonable explanations. While individual creations are rare and difficult to trace, they are not uncommon in language history (see
Fedriani & Molinelli, 2024 for the rise of It.
Ma vieni!). It is challenging to reach a definitive conclusion; however, the second example retrieved in the BVPH is dated 1943 and explicitly mentions this music show:
32. El espectáculo resulta, sin embargo, entretenido y el público lo recibió muy bien y aplaudió mucho, especialmente “Tabaco y seda”, “Callejuela sin salida”, “La señorita del acueducto, “Solera vieja”, “Ni hablar del peluquín” y “Que se acaba el mundo”. |
The show, nevertheless, proves quite entertaining and was very well received by the audience, who applauded heartily—especially for ‘Tobacco and Silk,’ ‘Dead-End Alley,’ ‘The Lady of the Aqueduct,’ ‘Old Vintage,’ ‘Don’t Mention the Periwig,’ and ‘The End of the World (BVPH, 1943. Pueblo, 23 de noviembre [accessed on 27 February 2025]). |
The NHDP.Cxn, associated with orality, is poorly reflected in the corpus (see
Figure 8 and
Figure 9), with marginal recurrence throughout the 20th century:
As the time span considered concerns the author’s linguistic competence, the corpus quantification may not fully capture the speakers’ mental availability of NHDP.Cxn in their mind. This could be due to its informal character, associated with oral discourse, and the historical exclusion of informal constructions from formal written texts. When Spanish underwent colloquialization in the early 1970s (
Pons Bordería, 2024;
Salameh, 2024,
2025,
2026;
Llopis & Pons Bordería, 2020) and barriers to reflect orality relaxed, the NHDP.Cxn was probably perceived as out-of-date and syrupy, a relic of a bygone society (post-war and Franco’s times). Hence, the frequency of NHDP.Cxn in the corpus could have been affected by a double constraint: when it was an active construction, it was banned by the rhetorical norms at the time; in turn, when the normative veto was released, the speaker’s sensitivity had shifted to other domains.
Turning back to the origins of this construction, let us examine the contexts where
peluquín (‘periwig’) is used.
Peluquín is first documented in 1725 and is defined in the
Diccionario de Autoridades as “short wig”. Though this definition is quite neutral, analysis of the contexts where
peluquín is found between 1700 and 1770 reveals its use in comedies, characterizing ridiculous characters, and also in satirical press descriptions. Associated with the new French dynasty ruling Spain since 1713, the periwig was seen as a foreign and unnecessary complement, worn by nobles or gentry, scoffed at by the lower classes. Popular characters complain about this adornment being a compulsory element in uniforms:
33. ¡Hola! ¡Pardiez que me está major la cofia encarnada que el peluquín, y no pesa un adarme! ¡Fiera carga es para un mísero paje peluquín por la mañana, peluquín al medio día, la tarde y la noche larga peluquín y peluquín tal vez á media noche cuando se levanta porque le ha dado un soponcio el ama! ¡San Isidro de mi vida! |
Hail! By gad, the red coif suits me better than the periwig, and it weighs not a dram! A fierce burden it is for a wretched page—periwig in the morning, periwig at midday, periwig in the evening and the long night, and mayhap periwig even at midnight when he rises, for his mistress has taken a fainting fit! Saint Isidore, my life! (1766. La pradera de San Isidro. Ramón de la Cruz, CDH) |
This humorous context of use is inherited by the NHDP.Cxn. In the 20th century, periwigs did not exist anymore but wigs did. Especially for men, wigs were seen as ridiculous (
Amara, 2015), owing to their primitive manufacture and sense of artificiality. In fact, in classical comedies—like Billy Wilder’s
The party—a gag arises when an accidental action involves wig removal. In this sense, (1de3.com) points out that NHDP could have probably been associated to a politeness rule forbidding mention of someone’s covered baldness—even, or especially, if obvious. True or not, we may conclude that
- (a)
Peluquín is associated with ironic contexts and speakers in humorous mode (
Ruiz Gurillo, 2012);
- (b)
in the 20th century, baldness was a source for mockery, as were attempts to hide it;
- (c)
NHDP.Cxn can only be understood in a humorous, but not in a literal, sense (i.e., it never refers to the actual need to avoid mentioning a real periwig).