It’s not a word that rises unbidden to the lips of English
speakers today, nor — if the record is to be trusted — at any time. It means a
thing without value or use. It was borrowed from French, where it may still be
found in dictionaries, though firmly marked as literary. According to the
lexicographer Emile Littré, who compiled a famous dictionary of French in the
middle decades of the nineteenth century, it’s a bastardised form of the Latin breviarium,
the source of breviary for the service book used by Roman Catholic priests.
The link had been explained by another lexicographer two
centuries earlier. Randall Cotgrave wrote in his French-English dictionary of
1611 that the word came to mean “foolish charms or superstitious prayers, used
by old and simple women against the toothache, and any such threadbare and
musty rags of blind devotion”, hence something valueless. A rare appearance is
in a letter of 1786 by the writer Fanny Burney, in which she refers to “Talking
to your royal mistress, or handing jewels ... and brimborions, baubles,
knick-knacks, gewgaws”.
It is much less weird in German, in which the closely
connected Brimborium, also borrowed from French but given a Latinate ending, is
an informal term for an unnecessary fuss. The sentence “du machst viel zu viel
Brimborium um eine Kleinigkeit” might be translated as “you’re making a lot of
fuss about nothing”.