In his 1907 book Days off and other Digressions, Henry Van Dyke included this line: “…and the tale of the season’s angling told from the beginning with many embellishments and divagations.” “Divagation” comes from the latin word “divagari”, which means “to wander.” It’s an obscure word, but not quite as rare as you might think. It’s been in relatively common use in literary contexts, and in fact you can find it in a 2009 review of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. The review was in The International Herald Tribune: “with a few divagations, in a straight line through the decades of Benjamin Button’s life, the backward vector of that biography turns this ‘Curious Case’ into a genuine mystery.”
Divagating is pretty much the same as circumambulating and gallivanting. “Circumambulate” comes from the Latin word “circumambulatus,” which was put together out of “circum” (around) and “ambulatus” (walking). “Ambulatus” is also the source of “amble,” which is another word for walking. In this case, walking at an easy, slow pace.
“Gallivant” is a fairly recent word, from about 1825, and also means to wander around. In this case the wandering is generally for the purpose of seeking some sort of diversion. The origin of “gallivant” is unclear, but it’s thought to be a variation of “gallant,” possibly as an attempt at humor.
English turns out to have an amazing number of words meaning something like “just wandering around.” “Meander” is another; it comes from the Greek word “maiandros,” which is derived from the Menderes River, known for its complicated, winding course. It used to be spelled “maeander,” which was a bit closer to its Greek origin. The word comes from the early 1600s, as did “maunder,” which also means to go about aimlessly.
The difference between “meander” and “maunder” is that “maunder” is often used in regard to talking in a rambling way as well as wandering around physically. Also, nobody really knows where “maunder” came from. The closest guess anybody seems to have is that it comes from the obsolete “maunder,” which meant begging. That version of “maunder” probably came from the French word “mendier,” which in turn is derived from the Latin “mendicare,” which is where “mendicant” (beggar) comes from.
You can see that not only do English words meaning “wander around” come from origins meaning, well, “wander around,” but also from words that don’t seem to have anything to do with the actual activity. “Gad” is another of those; it also means wandering around, but it comes from the Old English word “gaed,” which meant fellowship. A companion, in Old English, would have been a “gaedeling,” and together you would have going “gaeding” — which today would be “gadding” as in “gadding about.” Do too much gadding, though, or you might be labeled a “vagabond,” a wanderer or homeless tramp. Who might do some begging here and there.
It remains to be explained, though, how English has acquired so many words for wandering around and those who engage in it. It might have something to do with the old saw (which isn’t true) about Eskimos having 27 different words for “snow” because, being around it all the time, they notice all the subtle variations that are lost on snowy neophytes. In the arctic one knows about snow, I suppose, and in England maybe one knows about aimlessly wandering around!
