Let them eat *turta!

An etymological investigation into the tarts and torts concerning Proto-Romance *turta “loaf, piece of bread”

Roman bread

In Old French tarte “pastry” and torte “round bread” stand next to eachother from the 13th c. CE onwards. Probably via French these terms made their way into Modern English as tart, into Modern Dutch as taart (< MidDu. tarte) and into Modern German as torte[1]. Despite their tastiness the words have proven notoriously difficult to etymologize (see REW 8802 and 8890, and Bloch 1932: 333-34).

Both lexemes are often[2] derived from Rom. *torta pane “rolled or bent bread” (cf. Lat. torquēre “to twist, to roll, to bend”) as found in the vulgata translation of the bible (ca. 420 CE) where torta panis  glosses Gk. ἄρτος “bread” (Exodus 29 : 23, I Chronic. 16 : 3, Jeremias 37 : 21).  However, the sentences in the vulgata always read tortam panis or torta panis, in which panis is a genitive to torta, probably in order to render the meaning “a loaf of bread”. If the bread itself was bent or rolled we would expect torta to be an adjective agreeing with the noun. Since Latin panis (gen. panis) is neuter and all the reflexes of Rom. *torta in the daughter languages are masculine we cannot account for the feminine gender of *torta. Furthermore, phonologically a connection to Lat. torquēre does not fit since all languages seem to point to PRom. *turta which is clear from the cognates. In the East-Romance dialects we find Rum. turtă “cake,” Vegliot. turta “vier aneinander hängende kleine Broten,” who continue PRom. *turta unchanged. PRom. *turta regularly developed into Western Romance *torta as found in OFr. torte, tourte “pain de forme ronde” (cf. ModFr. tourte “pastry” [turt]) and ModIt. torta “cake” (see REW 8802). A derivate from Lat. torquēre on the other hand would have yielded WRom. *tɔrta (cp. ModFr. tordre [tɔrdrə] “to twist,” ModFr. tort “blame, mistake” [tɔrt]). Therefore it is clear that OFr. torte, tourte and its cognates in the other Romance sister dialects cannot be derived from Lat. torquēre.

Also the earliest attestation of the word on the 2nd c. CE Vindolanda tablets reads turtas (Tab.Vind. II 120.80,[3] for the interpretation see Adams 2009: 611). After that we encounter the word in the Byzantine chronicle of Theophanes (ca. 320 CE) as τουρτίον, pl. τουρτία “loaf of bread” (see Matthews 2009: 191). The ου spelling shows that the donor word had [u] as root vocalism at the time of the loan. A few centuries later on the continent we find turtam glossing collyridam “pastry roll, cake” in the 9th c. Reichenau glosses. Here the u is in all likelihood an orthographical representation for what must have been [o] already. Since the Reichenau glosses are very informative in relating to us lexical items from the colloquial registers of Romance (which in this period had already evolved into Old French) we may safely see in it a confirmation that the word turta/torta was commonly used in 9th c. Francia.

Two questions arise. What is the origin of PRom. *turta and how do we explain the variants that must go back to Rom. *tarta? To my mind we should allow the possibilty that the word does not have its origins in Latin, which would explain its relatively late attestation.

Since the word is first attested on the British isles it seems more than fair to start our search there. In Middle Welsh we find the word torth “loaf of bread, hump of bread” (see Bevon and Donovon 2001: 6014[4]) which has often been taken as a loan from Rom. *torta. However, the word might be connected to Middle Irish tort, toirt “heap, mass” which stands alongside Middle Irish tort, gen. torte f. “loaf of bread” (Bondarenko 2012: column 262[5]). All these forms can be traced back to Insular Celtic *turtā. Both in Welsh and Irish the *u would get raised to *o under influence of the following *ā. We should note that Middle Welsh quite regularly shifts *o before resonant + consonant clusters to *a in Latin loanwords, e.g. MidW parchell ”piglet” < Lat. porcellus and MidW carrai ”strap” < BritRom. *kɔrria < Lat. *corrigia (Morris Jones 1913: 87). If the word was really a loan from Latin or British Romance we would have expected a variant Middle Welsh **tarth next to torth. This strengthens our case for a Celtic origin for PRom. *turta.

Insular Celtic *turtā could then have entered British Romance from whence it may have spread all over the Romance dialect continuum. It is also possible a Gaulish cognate *turtā, formally identical to the Insular Celtic proto-forms, provided the donor word. In either way the semantics would then have moved from “hump, piece” to “hump of bread” and then finally “bread.” This development is paralleled in Germanic where OE bread “brit, crumb, morsel” < *breuđ-[6]  (cp. OHG brodi “fragile”) shifts its semantics to ME bread “bread,” supplanting earlier OE hlāf “bread.’ If we assume that PRom. *turta was loaned from a Celtic form from the British isles or Gaul and spread across the Romance dialect continuum, it must have reached East-Romance and Greek before the restructuring of the vowel system. We must remember that the Roman Empire in the heydays of the late principate and early dominate still constituted a cosmopolitan world in which goods, people and cultures quickly spread across the breadth of the Roman world.

                The variant Rom. *tarta can be found in ModFr. tarte “cake” and  ModSp. tarta “cake” alongside forms that must continue Rom. *tartara “cake” (ModIt. tartara ”almond cake”, Comask. tártara “cake from milk, eggs and sugar” see REW 8590). Rom. *tartara looks like the feminine form of *tartaro meaning “wine stone” as found in ModSp. tártaro ”id.” and ModFr. tairtre “id.” but its connection to the word “cake” is semantically very difficult. The connection between Rom. *tarta and *torta however is obvious. Nevertheless the vacillation in root vocalism prevents us from equating the etyma. To my mind we should take contamination with an etymon of Greek origin into account. The Greek word in question would then be the above mentioned Gk. ἄρτος “bread” which made its way to Western Romance as evidenced by Old Spanish artal “especie de empanada” and Basque arto “bread” (see Beekes 2009: 143). In combination with a preceding demonstrative resegmentation of the lexeme may have occurred, i.e. Rom. *est’ arto → *tarto (cp. OFr. icorne “unicorn” → l’icorne → ModFr. licorne, see Alkire 2010: 304-05) . This word would have easily taken its place alongside Rom. *torta “loaf of bread.”

Peter Alexander Kerkhof

Bibliography

Alkire, Ti et Carol Rosen, Romance languages; a historical introduction (2010).

Adams, J. N., The regional diversification of Latin 200 BC – 600 AD (Cambridge 2007).

Bevan, Gareth A. et P. J. Donovan, Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru LVII (Cardiff 2001).

Bondarenko, Maxim Fomin Grigory, electronic Dictionary of the Irish Language (2002).

Bloch, Oscar, Dictionnaire Étymologique de la langue Française (Paris 1932).

Matthews, John Frederick, The Journey of Theophanes: Travel, Business, and Daily Life in the Roman East (Yale 1999).

Meyer-Lübke, Romanisches Etymologisches Wörterbuch, Sammlung romanischer  Elementar und Handbücher III (Heidelberg 1911).

Morris Jones, J, a Welsh Grammar: Historical and Comparative (Oxford 1913).


[1] In ModDu. we also find ModDu. toert which must derive from OFr. tort, tourte.

[2] For the common etymology, see etymologiebank.nl which comprises the lemmata of the main etymological dictionaries of Dutch or etymonline.com which contains information from the main etymological dictionaries of English.

[3] An edition of the tablet may be found via this link: http://vindolanda.csad.ox.ac.uk/4DLink2/4DACTION/WebRequestQuery

[4] A compressed version of the dictionary can be found on: http://www.wales.ac.uk/dictionary/pdf/GPC0018-10.pdf

[6] Verner-variant OE breað “brittle” < *breuþ-)

In Voce Gallica

A completely Gaulish sentence in the Vita Symphoriani Augustodunensis

Gaulish

The Gaulish language is mainly attested in epigraphical inscriptions from the 3d c. BC to the 2nd CE written in the Greek and Latin alphabet. During the principate (27 BC – 284 AD) Gaul was thoroughly Romanized and the Gaulish language lost ground to the more prestigous Latin/Romance language. Nevertheless Romance and Gaulish may have been spoken next to eachother well into the 5th c. and assuming the examplar of the Gaulish-Latin glossary known as Endlicher’s Glossary (Öst. Nationalbibliothek, MS 89) was composed in the 6th c.[1] we must conclude that even then some knowledge of the dying Gaulish language persevered.

Gaulish Chamalieres inscription

5th c. Saintslife

In the early 20th c. Wilhelm Meyer identified a Gaulish sentence in the oldest manuscrits of the 5th c. vita Symphoriani augustodunensis which relates the martyrdom of Symphorianus of Autun in approxamitely 180 CE. When Symphorianus is led to his place of execution his mother admonishes him from the city wall. Meyer reconstructs the passage as follows (Meyer 1901: 162).

uenerabilis mater sua de muro sedula et nota illum uoce Gallica monuit dicens: ‘nate, nate Synforiane, †mentobeto to diuo†’

‘his venerable mother admonished him from the wall eagerly and notable to all (?), saying in the Gaulish speech: “Son, son, Symphorianus, think of your God!”

corruption of the gloss

CLM 4585 f. 13

The passage has been corrupted in the manuscript tradition with most medieval manuscripts reading “nate, nate, synphoriane, in mente habe deum tuum.” They leave out the linguistic specification in uoce gallica and any words that are not understandable as Latin . Meyer’s reconstruction of the prototext was based on three manuscripts which represent an early redaction of the passion. The two CLM manuscripts are dependent on eachother, CLM 22243 being three centuries younger than CLM 4585[2].

                Turin D.V. 3          (9th c.)     nati nati synforiani mentem obeto dotiuo

                CLM 4585 , f. 13    (9th c.)     nate nate synforiane memento betoto diuo hoc e memorare di tui

                CLM 22243, f. 27   (12th c.)   nate nate symphoriane memento betoto diuo hoc e memorare di tui

Interesting in CLM 4585 is the Latin translation following the sentence which was probably part of the original 5th c. text. It indicates that when the passion was codified the Gaulish was no longer readily understable to all, although the sentence in question apparently had been part of the oral tradition surrounding the saint. Considering Jerome’s comment from around 386 that Gaulish was spoken in the area of Trier it is very plausible that Gaulish survived into the 5th c. and that also in the area of Autun the Gaulish language had persevered in order for the sentence to have been entered into the passion. This would mean that the sentence reflects a late 5th c. Gaulish.

The Gaulish sentence analyzed

The Gaulish was analyzed and interpreted by Rudolf Thurneysen in the Zeitschrift fùr Celtische philologie 14. The meaning of the Gaulish words can be listed as follows:

 Nate, nate, mentobe(to) to deuo.

Son, son, remember your god

Nate

nate < Gaul. gnate. The word would be in the vocative singular. We may assume that initial gn- just as medial –gn- has changed into palatalized Romance *ɲ- which was spelled as n- in initial position. It is not very likely that  nate refers to the Latin word (g)natus. The Latin word with the meaning “son” is already quite rare in Classical texts (probably because of competition with filius) and almost absent in Late Antique and Medieval Latin. The use of such an archaic word in a colloquial phrase would be highly unlikely. The Gaulish word gnatos however, seems, judging on its occurence in the inscriptions, to be the general word for “son”. 

mentobeto

Since the sentence is glossed in MS München 2223 with hoc est memorare dei tui the word must mean “remember” or “keep in mind.”

To                   

to is best explained as continuing PCelt. *towe possessive pronoun 2.gen.sg. (cp. Old Irish do “your”), i.e. PCelt. *towe > Gaulish to. 

Dewo              

Gaulish dewos is well attested in inscriptions (e.g. PN dewognata and theVercelli inscription tewoxtonion “from gods and men”) . The noun would here stand in the accusative as well, i.e. Gaulish *dewom > dewo. The final nasal would have been lost in parallel to the loss of final nasals in Romance. The spelling diwo would show orthographical Romance confusion of short i and long e which had coalesced in PRom. *e. Once again, it is highly unlikely that we are dealing with the Latin word divus here, since the Latin word is archaic and hardly attested in late and medieval Latin texts.

Mentobeto

In his analysis Thurneysen confirmed Meyer’s suspicion that the sentence was Gaulish but disagreed with Meyer about the word mentobeto. Meyer argued that the word may be a Celtic derivation to the same root as Latin memini “to remember.” This, however, seems unlikely since the verbal reflex of the root is only reflected in Old Irish muinithir “to intend” < PIE *mani̯e- (see De Vaan 2008: 371)[3]. Thurneysen therefore argued that mentobeto more likely represents a Vulgar Latin verb (Proto-Rom. *mɛntaƀerɛ, see REW 5507) derived from  Latin in mente habere (cf. OFr. mentevoir “to mention, to cite”, OProv. mentaure “id.”). This would mean that the sentence would be a mixture of Gaulish and Latin, a conclusion that is repeated by Adams in his book The regional diversification of Latin (Adams 2007).

Thurneysen argued that the form *mɛntaƀeto which would lie behind the spelling mentobeto would continue a Latin future imperative in –to.  Unfortunately the future imperative cannot be reconstructed for Proto-Romance as it is not continued in any of the Romance dialects, so the survival of the form in this late antique hagiography would be surprising[4]. It is highly unlikely that future imperatives still existed in 5th c. We should also note that the translating gloss memorare dei tui does not use the future imperative, which would be unexpected when the meaning of the Gaulish verb would exactly be such a future imperative[5].

Furthermore this would mean that we would have a Gaulish sentence, complete with a Gaulish direct object and possessive adjective, but with a Gallo-Romance inflected verb. This seems like an unlikely scenario. This indicates another explanation of the Gaulish inflectional form seems warranted. Alternatively we may argue that the word reflects a Gaulish inflectional form of a Gaulish verb borrowed from Romance *mɛntaƀerɛ < Latin mente habēre “to have in mind”. The –o- from attested mento- might reflect earlier *-a- that has been coloured by the following -ƀ- or we may speculate that the stem was adopted from Gallo-Romance *mentaƀ- as Gaulish *mentawƀ- with the -aw- sequence monophtongizing to –o-. In either scenario I will propose to read the word as mentobe with the final to as a corrupted repetition of the following to.

I argue that mentobeto must be read as mentobe and represents a Gaulish imperative singular, namely Late Gaulish mentaƀe “remember!” < Early Gaulish mentaƀi (cf. Gaulish moni “come” < PIE *monH-e, Gaulish gabi “take” < QIE *ghHbh-e). This possibility assumes that the Gaulish inflectional form goes back to Romance *mɛntaƀerɛ. Naturally this scenario  also allows for the possibility that the word is Gallo-Romance after all, since a Romance imperative singular would also be *mentaƀe.

Conclusion

To conclude; it seems plausible that the un-latinate admonition in the 5th c. vita symphoriani augustodunensis  reflects a sentence in colloquial Late Gaulish. All the words are understandable as Gaulish, provided that we recognize the fact that mentobeto probably reflects a verb loaned from Gallo-Romance *mɛntaƀerɛ. The word mentobeto should be parsed as mentobe=to, with a repetitive to following the verbal form; this corruption is to due to the faulty tradition of the sentence. When the words were no longer understood scribes tried to make Latin out of them, interpreting the words as containing Latin memento. Actually the inflectional form mentobe would reflect Late Gaulish mentaƀe which is to be understood as an imperative singular, with the Gallo-Romance –a- darkened to –o- under influence of the following labial. This would connect neatly with the following Latin translation which translates the verb with Classical Latin memorare dei tui. Formally it is also possible that this mentobe is Romance after all,  namely reflecting Romance *mentaƀe, but it seems preferable to go for a Gaulish interpretation since all the other words do seem to reflect Gaulish vocabulary and grammar.

 P A Kerkhof

Bibliography

Adams, J. N., The regional diversification of Latin 200 BC – 600 AD (Cambridge 2007).

Eska, Joseph, “Continental Celtic,” in: The ancient languages of Europe, Roger D. Woodward ed. (Cambridge 2008) 165-188.

Matasovic, Ranko “The origin of the Old Irish f-future” in: evidence and counter-evidence, festschrift for Frederik Kortlandt (2008) 361-366.

Meyer, Wilhelm “Das älteste keltische Sprachdenkmal,” in: Fragmenta Burana, Festschrift der köningliche Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften in Göttingen (Göttingen) 1901 161-163.

Meyer-Lübke, Romanisches Etymologisches Wörterbuch, Sammlung romanischer  Elementar und Handbücher III (Heidelberg 1911).

Thurneysen, R. “Irisches und Gallisches,” in: Zeitschrift für Celtische philologie 14 (1923) 1-17.

Vaan, Michiel, Etymological Dictionary of Latin and the other Italic languages (2008).


[1] This seems reasonable considering caio (Gaulish *kagi̯o) in Endlicher’s Glossary is glossed with breialo sive bigardio, the latter word being a Frankish loanword which plausibly entered Gallo-Romance in the 6th c. only

[2] The CLM manuscripts are digitalized and can be found on http://www.digitale-sammlungen.de/

[3] We do find an e-grade to *men- in Old Irish toimtiu < PCelt. *to-menti̯on, so possibly a denominal formation analogous to Latin mentiō also existed in Gaulish. This however would probably have yielded a Gaulish verbal stem *mentii̯o- which does not fit with the attestation mentobeto.

[4] The early disappearance of the future imperative in to was probably provoked by the confusion with the past participle in -to < Lat. -tus.

[5] A Gaulish future is also unlikely since the Old Irish f-future cannot go back to an older *­-b- and is therefore not identical to the Latin b-future. The future suffix can be identified as Proto-Celtic *-iswā- (see Matasovic 2008: 361; contra Kortlandt).

Dwarfs and She-Dwarfs in the Eleventh Century

 What the OE wið dweorh charm and the Latin Ruodlieb poem have in common

In the Early Middle Ages the belief in dwarfs was widely held among the Germanic speaking peoples of northwestern Europe[1]. The *dwerǥōs[2]were thought of as a liminal non-human race of  mountain dwelling artisans. They can be regarded as the mountainous counterparts to the forest dwelling creatures the Germanic speaking peoples called *alƀōs “elfs” (Hermann 1903 :114). In Old Icelandic literature they are sometimes called svartálfar and portrayed as the smiths of Germanic mythology and the custodians of treasures (see West 2007: 295-97). Vestiges of this belief surived into the Modern Period as evidenced by Grimm in his Deutsche Sagen (29-44), Deutsche Hausmärchen (e.g. 161 Schneeweißchen und Rosenrot) and Deutsche Mythologie (XVII Wichte und Elbe). Although non-scholarly conceptions of dwarfs are often coloured by romantic Tolkienesque visions of smallish folk integral to fantastic societies, we should not forget that to medieval contemporaries the “dwarf” mainly constituted the alien other; the heathen, the foreigner. They possessed knowledge far beyond the wit of man and, if offended, they could curse mankind with horrible diseases.

            In the capacity of  “bringer of harm” we find dwarfs mentioned in Anglo-Saxon charms that aim to alleviate dwarf induced illnesses. Consider this charm, to be found in Ha. (Harley) 585 (167a), a Northumbrian manuscript of the late eleventh century. It consists of an introduction, followed by the charm itself (see Grendon 1909 for an edition and translation).

Introduction lines 1-8

WIÐ DWEORH

Man sceal niman VII lȳtle oflǣtan, swylce man mid ofrað, and writtan þās naman on ǣlcre oflǣtan: Maxianus, Machus, Johannes, Martinianus, Dionisius, Constantinus, Serafion. Þænne eft þæt galdor þæt hēr æfter cweð. Man scal singan, ǣrest on þæt wynstre ēare, þænne on þæt swīðre ēare, þænne ufan þæs mannes moldan. And gā þænne ān mǣdenman tō, and hō hit on his swēoran and dō man swā þrȳ dagas: him bið sōna sēl.

AGAINST A DWARF

You must take seven little wafers, such as are used in worship and write these names on each wafer: Maximianus, Malchus, Johannes, Martinianus, Dionisus, Constantinus, Serafion. Then again, you must sing the charm which is stated below, first into the left ear, then into the right ear, then over the man’s head. And then let a virgin go to him and hang it on his neck, and do this for three days. He will soon be well.

In this introduction syncretic directions are given for an apotropaeic healing ceremony. The first direction involves inscribing sacramental wafers with the names of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus (a Christian myth[3]), an instruction seemingly unconnected to the following directions. The following directions on the other hand do not have any connection to institutionalized forms of christianity. They state how the charm is to be chanted and what is to be done afterwards. The introduction ends with the instruction that the written charm should be presented to the afflicted by a virgin. The fact that a written version of the charm plays a role in the ceremony, attests to the power attributed to the written word in late Anglo-Saxon society.

            Enchantment lines 9-21

Hēr cōm in gangan, in spīder wiht,

            Hæfde him his haman on handa.

            Cwæð þæt þū his hængest wǣre.

            Legeþ hē his tēage an swēoran.

            Ongunnan him of þǣm lande līþan.

            Sōna swā hȳ of þǣm lande cōman,

            Þā ongunnan him þā cōlian.

            Þā cōm ingangan dēores sweostar.

            Þā geændade hēo and āðas swōr:

            Ðæt nǣfre þis þǣm ādlegan derian ne mōste,

            Ne þǣm þe þis galdor begyten mihte,

            Oððe þe þis galdor ongalan cūþe.

            Amen, fiat.

            Came right in here, the creature on a spider

            Had his harness in hand.

            Said that you would be his stallion.

            He put his rein on your neck.

            Immediately when they began to go to him

            they began to cool him.

            Then came in, the sister of the creature.

            She ended it and swore oaths.

            That he should never harm the sick.

            Nor whomever who should learn this charm,

            Or who could sing this charm.

            Amen, may it be done.

The incantation introduces the dwarf riding on a spider, who maliciously intents to ride his victim by use of magical reins[4]. After the reins have been put on the victim’s neck, the dwarf and the spider leave, which induces a fever, described in the OE text as cōlian “to cool”, presumably because of the identical symptoms (shivering, chattering of teeth)[5]. Then the sister of the dwarf arrives, probably the entity whose intercession is invoked. She ends the agony and swears oaths as to guarantee the safety of the victim, thereby protecting the victim from further harm. The charm ends with a christian amen and fiat.

            What struck me in this charm was the role of the female dwarf, who apparently restrains her brother in his malevolent deeds and vowes for the victim’s safety. This reminded me of another female dwarf, the spouse of the dwarf caught by the eleventh century hero Ruodlieb.

The Ruodlieb poem is an early Medieval Latin epic poem which was written halfway the eleventh century (1060-1070 CE) by a monk at Tegernsee (present day southern Germany, near to the border with Liechtenstein) in the style of the Latin epic (specifically Prudentius Symmachus). It consists of 2300 extant verses written in dactylic hexameter with leonine rhymes (the last syllable of each verse rhymes with the first syllable of the third foot of the verse). It recounts the adventures of a warrior[6] (miles) named Ruodlieb who serves a just king (rex maior) and displays chivalrous virtues like obedience and righteousness. The poem is often regarded as the first coutly romance of western literature, marking the new era of courtly novels known from the Arthurian cycle and Middle High German poems such as Der Arme Heinrich.

In fragment XVIII (Clm. 19486 fol. 34a) of the poem (XVII in Schmeller’s edition) Ruodlieb captures a dwarf who promises council in defeating two kings, Immunch and Hartunch, claiming their treasure and carrying off their daughter, a beautiful virgin called Heriburg. When the dwarf is confronted with Ruodlieb’s suspicion he offers his wife, a pretty female dwarf (parva nimis pulchra[7]), as security that he will hold true to his word. He calls his wife from a nearby cave and the dwarf woman prostrates herself in front of Ruodlieb and begs to be his hostage untill her husband has accomplished everything he had promised. Then the fragment breaks off.

Fragment VIII Ruodlieb and the Dwarf[8]

He leapt up and wanted to get away,
untill he fell exhausted and barely caught his breath.
When strength returned to him, to Ruodlieb he most humbly spoke:

“spare my wretched self, I tell you what I know you want.

5

If you do not kill me and if you free my hands,
I’ll show you the hoard of two kings,

Son and father, who will go to battle with you

The father’s name is Immunch, and the son Hartunch,

By you they will be defeated, both will die by your doing.

10

Then the king’s  daughter – the sole remaining heir

Of the entire realm, Heriburg, the most beautiful virgin,

Is to be won by you, but not without great bloodshed,

Unless you do what I advise, when I have been freed.”

Ruodlieb said to the dwarf: “you will not be killed by me.

15

I would have freed you quickly, if I could have trusted you;

If you do not cheat me, you will return unharmed from me.

When you are free, you will tell me nothing.”

“May it not occur that ever between us (dwarfs?) this deceit prevails:

Then we should neither be of great age nor of good health.

20

Among you humans no one speaks, unless with a cunning heart;
Therefore you will not come to great age. (like we dwarfs)

In accordance with the faith of each one are the times of his life.

We only speak the way we hold it in our heart,

Nor do we eat various foods that entail diseases,

25

That’s why we will remain sound longer than you.

Do not distrust me, I will act in such a way that you may believe me.

If you do not trust me, my wife will be a hostage.”

He called her from the cave, she immediately came forth from it,

Small but beautiful nonetheless, and adorned with gold and clothing,

30

She fell before Ruodlieb’s feet pouring laments:

“Best of all men, loosen the bonds of my husband

Hold me for him, untill he has accomplished all!”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .[9]

Before turning to the contents of the poem, a few remarks on the language are warranted. The Ruodlieb poem is quite unconventional for a Medieval Latin poem in language, form and content (Kartschoke 1990: 232) and a vernacular origin has often been assumed. This argument is strengthened by the fact the personal names are not latinized (in contrast to the latinized personal names in the Waltharius lied), the latinized vernacular fish names that are listed in fragment X (XIII of Schmeller’s edition), the vernacular glosses in the manuscript (this is noteworthy for the manuscript is taken to be an autograph, see Ford 1965: 3) and the OHG words in the wedding vow, which is worth quoting in full.

Latin translation
66 Dixit: dic illi de me de corde fideli She said: say to him from my faithful heart
67 Tantundem liebes, quantum veniat modo loubes Just as much liebes (love) may come to him, as there is loubes (foliage)
68 Et volucrum wunna quot sunt, sibi dic mea minna Just as much birds have wunna (joy), say to him, (just as great) is my minna (affection)
69 Graminis et florum quantum sit, dic et honorum As much there is grass and flowers, say (as great) is (my) honour

The vernacular words in this fragment suggest an original alliterating diction in the OHG vernacular with liebes “love” as the first stressed foot of the first stanza, and loubes “foliage” of the second stanza. Also line 6-9 may allude to a vernacular origin for they call to mind lines 3-5 of the Hildebrandslied (Hiltibrant enti Hađubrant, untar heriun tuem, sunufatarungo, iro saro rihtun, Braune Ebbinghaus 1962: 84). In the two poems we both find the alliterating names of the kinsmen, i.e. Immunch, Hartunch and Heriburg. Even more interesting, we find a latin equivalent (line 7 et patris et nati) of the OHG formula sunufatarungo. We may speculate that the original vernacular lines may have ressembled the following:

ih zeigu dir,     zweio chuningo hort,

sunufatarungo (…)

daz Immunch heizzi der vater, sunu Hartunch.

To my mind it seems reasonable to assume that at least this part of the Ruodlieb poem constitutes a Latinate rendering of a vernacular poem. Whether Schmeller was right in identifying the Ruodlieb of the poem with künge Ruotliebe of the MHG Ecken Liet (who is associated with the Germanic heroic age) is open to discussion (Grimm et Schmeller 1838: 220).

A thing of interest in the Ruodlieb poem is the mutual mistrust displayed by Ruodlieb and his captive. Ruodlieb expresses his suspicion by making the release of the dwarf conditional to the dwarf holding true to his word (line 17 Si me non fallis, a me sanus remeabis). The dwarf retorts by claiming Ruodlieb’s mistrust is unjustified, deceit being a human characteristic, whereas dwarfs speak as “they hold it in their heart” (line 24 corde tenemus). It is hinted at by the dwarf that part of human mistrust originates in human envy towards the greater lifespan of dwarfs. The dwarf however attributes the shorter lifespan of humans to their insalubrious diet (line 25 neve cibos varios edimus morbos generantes). The reciprocal relationship between the hero and the dwarf in the Ruodlieb poem is characteristic of the business between humans and dwarfs in general (see Grimm 1875: 377-78) for human philanthropy is always rewarded with dwarvish generosity (Hermann 1903: 117).

            Note that the role of the dwarf woman is identical to the role of the Anglo-Saxon deores sweostar (sister of the creature, i.e. the dwarf’s sister) in that they serve as security against dwarvish maliciousness and deceit. To Early Medieval contemporaries the female hostage acting as security against masculine violence and retribution was a common literary theme[10] sprung forth from contemporary custom. On a more anthropological level this feminine apotropaeism may be compared to similar invocations of feminine entities such as Frau Holle and Frau Perhta of German folklore. These female deities were associated with duties generally attributed to the female gender, such as parturition, weaving, cleaning, but also healing and medicine (see Motz 1993: 124-30).

Conclusion

In this post I have compared two eleventh century texts in regards to their portrayal of those creatures of Germanic mythology that are commonly called “dwarfs”. These two texts may very well be the oldest evidence for the belief in these creatures and both texts attribute a pivotal role to a female dwarf who is supposed to act as security against the possible malicious intentions of her male partner. The one text is an Old English charm against dwarf inflicted illness, the other text is a fragment from the Latin Ruodlieb epic, an East-Frankish epic that originally may have reflected parts of an older vernacular epic. Both texts shed light on what constituted the “dwarf” in Early Medieval folk belief and may contribute to our understanding of dwarfs in prechristian times, without resorting to late medieval Scandinavian sources.

P.A. Kerkhof


 [1] Thanks to Bas Clerkx and Godelinde Perk for commenting on a earlier version of this article.

[2] The etymology of PGmc. *dwerǥa- is controversial. A connection to PIE *dhreugh- seems unlikely because of the unwarranted Schwebeablaut. Note that a zero-grade to the root is attested in OIc. dyrgja “female dwarf” < PGmc. *durgjō. Liberman (46-47) assumes that we are dealing with the rhotacized form of a PGmc. root *dwezǥ-, which would be a Verner variant to PGmc. *dwes- as attested in OE gedwǣsnes “dementia”. The Gmc. material allows to reconstruct the ablaut variants *dwē1s- and *dwas- (cf. MDu gedwas “foolishness” if this word has not been subjected to secondary shortening), so the postulation of an e-grade and the velar extension would be without Gmc. parallels. I am tempted to adhere to an old etymology, namely going back to PIE *dher- “to harm” (cf. Skt. dvarás- “demon” ← Skt. dvárati “to harm”) with an old athematic diminutive suffix. In connection to this negative epithet it seems relevant that the dwarfs are often called by more neutral names, i.e. OIc. svartalfar and in Grimm’s work Bergmännlein, das stille Volk, das kleine Volk.

[3] Attesting to the popularity of the myth in the Early Medieval West are the insertions of the myth into the Historia Langobardorum by Paulus Diaconus in the 8th century and even earlier Gregory of Tours in his Passio Sanctorum martyrum septem dormientium apud Ephesum which dates to the second half of the 6th century.

[4] Mythical creatures riding humans were generally blamed for causing diseases in humans. The most famous of these creatures is no doubt the “nightmare” (OE mare, OHG mara), a female elf-like creature (cp. ModG. Alptraum) who torments men in their sleep by sitting on their chest, thus pushing the air out of their lungs.

[5] In this regard, also consider ModDu jicht “gout” < PGmc. *jekti (cf. MidE isykle “icicle” < PGmc. *īs-jekila-) and ModDu koorts “fever” Pre-Du *kurts- < PGmc. *kruts- (cf. Goth. kriustan  “to chatter with the teeth”, see also De Vaan 2010) and OS hrido “fever” (cf. OHG ridōn “to shiver”). That we are dealing with an affliction involving fever is corroborated by another wið dweorg charm (E 11, Cotton Vitellius C iii, 46a) which states that the dwarf may arrive by day or by night and that the cure might at first intensify the attack (the fever) before it abbates (Grendon 1909: 212-13).

[6] Lat. miles is often translated as knight, but considering the fact that in the eleventh century East Frankish empire a hereditary feudal nobility was not yet institutionalized, I deem the term anachronistic and prefer a more neutral “warrior”.

[7] Note that this cannot be taken as an unambiguous reference to the size of dwarfs, for it concerns a woman. In OIc. literature dwarfs are not characterized as being unusually small (see Simek 2006: 92)

[8] The Latin original text is published online: http://www2.fh-augsburg.de/~harsch/Chronologia/Lspost11/Ruodlieb/ruo_fr18.html. It should be remarked that not everyone is convinced that the fragment containing the dialogue with the dwarf is part of the Ruodlieb poem.(see Kartschoke 1990: 232).

[9] Latin text as found in Schmeller´s edition of the manuscript (Grimm et Schmeller 1838: 196):

 

Exiliens et abire volens salit undique clamans,
Dum lassus cecidit vix spiramenque recepit.
Cui vigor ut rediit, ad Ruodlieb humillime dixit:
«Parce mihi misero, scio quod gratum tibi dico.

5

Si me non occideris atque manus mihi solves,
Monstro tibi censum binorum denique regum,
Et patris et nati, qui tecum preliaturi
- Nomen habet genitor Immunch, sed filius Hartunch -
A te vincuntur, ambo per te perimentur.

10

Filia sed regis – heres tunc sola superstes
Regni totius, Heriburg, pulcherrima virgo -
Est tibi lucranda, sed non sine sanguine magno,
Ni quod consiliar facias, ego quando resolvar.»
Ruodlieb ait nano: «non occidendus es a me.

15

Te cito solvissem, tibi si confidere possem;
Si me non fallis, a me sanus remeabis.
Quando potens fueris tuimet, nil post mihi dices.»
«Absit, ut inter nos umquam regnaverit hec fraus:
Non tam longevi tunc essemus neque sani.

20

Inter vos nemo loquitur, nisi corde doloso;
Hinc nec ad etatem maturam pervenietis.
Pro cuiusque fide sunt eius tempora vite.
Non aliter loquimur, nisi sicut corde tenemus,
Neve cibos varios edimus morbos generantes,

25

Longius incolomes hinc nos durabimus ac vos.
Non mihi diffidas, faciam, mihi quod bene credas.
Si mihi diffidas, mea coniunx sit tamen obses.»
Hanc vocat ex antro, que mox processerat illo,
Parva nimis pulchra, sed et auro vesteque compta.

30

Que ruit ante pedes Ruodlieb fundendo querelas:
«Optime cunctorum, vinclis mihi solve maritum
Meque tene pro se, donec persolverit omne!»
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[10] This custom is hinted at in OE poems such as Beowulf and The wife’s lament.

Bibliography

Braune Wilhelm et E. Ebbinghaus, Althochdeutsches Lesebuch (1875: 14th edition Tübingen 1962).

Ford jr., Gordon B., The ruodlieb; the first medieval epic of chivalry from eleventh century Germany (Leiden 1965).

Grendon, Felix, “The Anglo-Saxon charms”, The journal of American Folklore 22 (1909) 105-237.

Grimm, J. et A. Schmeller eds., Lateinische Gedichte des X. und XI. JH. (Göttingen 1838).

Grimm, Jacob, Deutsche Mythologie (Berlin 1875: 4th edition).

Grimm, Jacob et Wilhelm Grimm, Deutsche Sagen (Kassel 1818: 1865).

Grimm, Jacob et Wilhelm Grimm, Kinder- und Hausmärchen  (1819).

Kartschoke, Dieter, Geschichte der deutschen Literatur im frühen Mittelalter [Geschichte der deutschen Literatur im Mittelalter 3] (1990: 3d edition München 2000).

Liberman, Anatoly, an analytical dictionary of English etymology (2008).

Motz, Lotte, The beauty and the hag; female figures of Germanic Faith and myth [philologica Germanica 15](Vienna 1993).

Hermann, Paul, Nordische Mythologie in gemeinverständlicher darstellung, (Leipzig 1903).

Simek, Rudolf, Götter und Kulte der Germanen (2004: München 2006).

Vaan de, Michiel, “etymologie en dialectgeografie van koorts”, in: Verslagen en Mededelingen vande Koninklijke Academie voor Nederlandse Taal- en Letterkunde 120 3

(2010) 45–79.

Overcoming the female gender role in the Medieval Judith receptions

When it is okay for a woman to cut a mans head off in the Middle Ages

Being a woman in the Early Middle Ages was not easy. The Germanic kingdoms that arose amidst the ruins of the Roman empire valued the sword, masculinity and the bible. It was a mans world and warriors roamed the land. The Early Medieval dominance of the male gender was without a doubt facilitated by christian misogyny. The Church Fathers have a well earned reputation for having a not very egalitarian view on sex and gender roles, but exemplary is of course this passage from Paul’s epistle to the Ephasians.

Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.” Eph. 5:22-24.

We should note that before christianity took root in northern Europe attitudes towards women were probably a lot less chauvinist. In the Middle Ages on the margins of European christianity we find attitudes as expressed in literature and law that attribute women more indepedence and agency than in the more thoroughly christianized regions of Europe. This need not surprise us because it makes sense for rural sedentary societies to posess a pragmatic view on gender roles. Simply put, on a farm everybody has to work hard, often unsupervised and with an indepedent mind. In rural northwestern Europe labour was divided, the men doing most of the outdoor work and the women tending to the household; the men could simply not afford to marginalize the position of the women in their households, since they were essential to the wellbeing of the household. Also, women were not completely without means when it came to dispute and strife. In the Old Icelandic sagas they often are independent agents who trick, murder, and ocassionally fight their way out of many a predicament. And when matters were taken to court, many a woman was capable of rallying male sibling to her cause, letting them fight for her honour.

Ironically, escape from male discrimination was possible within the framework of medieval Christianity. Were a woman to leave the secular world and enter a monastery, thereby devoting herself to christ and renouncing all secular pleasures she could (as a dewomanized being) attain status, indepedence and religious authority. Whereas in Early Christianity monasticism was reserved for male recluses and woman had to crossdress to enter a monastic community, in the Early Middle Ages female monasticism became an institution in itself. For example, Merovingian noble families tried to sacrilize political power by founding monasteries and appointing their daughters as abbesses.  For a woman, joining a convent and becoming a bride of christ meant shedding the bonds of their sex and being regarded as pure vessels of religiousness, equal to men in the face of christ.

Unsurprisingly, a life of celebacy was not cut out for everyone and many women preferred the institution of marriage and the prospect of offspring to the harsh regime of the cloister. Even nuns could be tempted by carnal desires after joining a convent, as is clear from Boniface laments that so many Anglo-Saxon women who went on pilgrimage to Rome never made it to the eternal city and prostituted themselves in inns across Francia. Naturally, there were many women who weren´t nuns or prositutes or prostituting nuns and generally speaking many women were married, living a life of hard work and silent obedience.

Nevertheless, the bible does not only contain passages rife with misogyny and female subjugation. One of the more interesting bible books, albeit apocryphical, is the book Judith, relating the story of how a Jewish widow, Judith (Yəhūḏīṯ ), lifts the Assyrian siege of Bethalia by seducing and murdering the Assyrian warlord Holofernes. When Holofernes is drunk and fast asleep in his chambers Judith takes up his sword, grabs him by the hair and cuts of his head with two consecutive hews.

Then she came to the pillar of the bed, which was at Holofernes’ head, and took down his fauchion from thence, And approached to his bed, and took hold of the hair of his head, and said, Strengthen me, O Lord God of Israel, this day. And she smote twice upon his neck with all her might, and she took away his head from him.  And tumbled his body down from the bed, and pulled down the canopy from the pillars; and anon after she went forth, and gave Holofernes his head to her maid” Judith 13: 6-9

This remarkable tale of Hebrew feminism is presumed to have been written relatively late, around the second century BCE (Brine 2010: 3). This partly may be the reason why the book is not to be found in the Hebrew bible, but it is just as likely that the rabbis who established the Hebrew canon thought the deeds of the protagonist were to unbecoming for her sex. Whatever the case, it has to be remarked that the story of Judith was immensely popular in the Barbarian west. We posess a ninth century commentary on the book by the Carolingian scholar Hrabanus Maurus, a tenth century Old English epic poem relating the story in beautiful Germanic alliterating stanzas and a late eleventh century High German poem in verse. Furthermore Judith became a personal name for Early Medieval nobility as is clear from the Judith who was the wife of Louis the Pious and the Judith who was the mother of the Polish king Bołeslaw III.

 Perhaps we may take this as a sign that Christian misogyny was sufficiently alien to the Barbarian west in order to allow the tale of Judith to be pushed to the fore in northern European christianity. We must note however that the christian appropriation and reinterpretation of the biblical tale predates the Middle Ages. The Church Fathers had already stressed the chastity of biblical Judith as her main characteristic. She did not defeat the godless Holofernes ánd kept her chastity as a widow, but she defeated Holofernes because of her chastity. Jerome’s words are examplary for the christian attitude towards biblical Judith.

Receive the widow Judith, example of chastity, and with victorious  praise acclaim her with perpetual celebrations. For not only to women, but even to men, she has been given as an example by the one who remunerates her chastity, who has ascribed to her such virtue that she defeated the one who was undefeated by all men, and conquered the one who is unconquerable.” Vulgata Incipit Prologus Iudith 9-12.

By insisting upon her chastity the woman Judith, who is described in the bible book as exceptionally beautiful, is effectively desexed and reinterpreted in christian terms.

And when Judith was come before him and his servants they all marvelled at the beauty of her countenance; and she fell down upon her face, and did reverence unto him: and his servants took her up.” Judith 10: 23. (King James translation)

This twist of the story keeps it from contradicting the general misogynystic drift of orthodox christianity, equating Judith with the virgins of the Early Medieval convents.

Not only the chastity of biblical Judith appealed to an Early Medieval audience, also her martial prowess connected well to the attitudes of the warrior societies of the Early Middle Ages. Gregory of Tours relates in his sixth century historia francorum the story about a slave girl who was molested by the drunk Duke Amalo. When Amalo fell asleep, she seized the opportunity, grabbed his sword and avenged her lost honour.

The girl stretched out her hand above his head, took hold of his sword, eased it out of its scabbard and, just as Judith did to Holofernes, dealt him a mighty blow.” Gregory of Tours Decem Libri historiarum francorum, book 9 chapter 25. (Penguin translation, Lewis Thorpe).

As you can see, Gregory did not refrain from likening the bold slave girl to biblical Judith, even alleging that no actual intercourse had happened yet. Since this specific girl was first apprehended by a gang of Amalo’s lackee’s who severely abused her before bringing her to Amalo himself we might question that assertion.

Nevertheless, we may want to contrast this tale of female vengeance to Lucretia of Classical Rome who plunged a dagger in her breast after Sextus Tarquinius Superbus took her virginity. In Classical Rome she stood as an example for female chastity and humility. Probably this attitude was not shared by Rome’s northern neighbours. Gregory of Tours did not think it a strange thing when a Frankish woman avenged her lost honour by taking the life of the men who raped her. On this Gregory of Tours and many present day feminists would probably agree.

The Franks’ western neighbours that lived across the Channel, the Anglo-Saxons, also valued the book Judith and wrote a lengthy vernacular poem about the biblical heroine. The Anglo-Saxon Judith poem was presumably written in the late tenth century and is preserved in Cotton Vitellius A XV (British Library, London). The poem is filled with battle scenes and heroic imagery and combines the image of Judith as a christian example of chastity with the martial Judith that Gregory describes; a chaste sword wielding Xena Warrior Princess. In the Anglo-Saxon poem Judith is described as a virgin, which makes sense when we consider the Early Medieval practice of equating chastity with virginity. Instructive is the scene where Judith does the deed and beheads the dreaded Holofernes (Treharne 2000: 201).

Genam ða þone h æðenan mannan     Fæste be feaxe sinum, teah hyne folmum wið hyre weardBysmerlice, ond þone bealofullan

Listum alede, laðne mannan,

Swa heo ðæs unlædan eaðost mihte

Wel gecwaldan. Sloh ða wundenlocc

Þone feondsceaðan fagum mece,

Heteþoncolne, þæt heo healfne forcearf

Þone sweoran him, þæt he on swiman læg,

Druncen ond dolhwund.

 

She seized the heathen manSecurely by his hair,Pulled him shamefully towards herWith her hands, and skillfully placed

The wicked and loathsome man

So that she could most easily manage

the miserable one well.

Then the woman with braided locks

struck the enemy, that hostile one,

with the shining sword, so that she cut

through half of his neck, such that he lay

unconscious, drunk and wounded.

(Treharne’s translation).

The Old English Judith poem is however not the only old vernacular poem about the Judith tale, we also have a High German Judith poem preserved, traditionally called the Ältere Judith to distinguish it from a clearly younger and longer Middle High German Judith poem. Although the Ältere Judith is not significantly younger than its Old English counterpart, its style and content are considerably different. The Ältere Judith poem, also called Nabuchodonosor, is preserved in the early twelfth century Vorau Manuscript 276 (Stiftsbibliothek), but the poem itself may predate the manuscript by a century atleast with some scholars even arguing for a tenth century conception. The poem consists of 19 lines in verse, significantly shorter than 349 alliterating lines of the Old English version, written in a late Old High German possibly early Middle High German Rhine Franconian dialect. The poem equates the Nebukadnezar of the book Daniel with the Nebukadnezar of the book Judith, incorporating both the story of the murder of the three young men in the oven and the story of Judith who murdered Holofernes in the poem. We may compare the “murder scene” of the Old English poem with the “murder scene” of the late Old High German poem. For the sample below I used Waag’s edition (Waag 1890: 34-41).

Dô irbarmôtiz doch                Den alwaltintin got:Dô santer ein eingil voni himiliDer kuntiz deri vrowin hî nidini:

Nu stant ûf, dû gûti Judithi

Dû zi goti woli digiti,

Unde geinc dir zi demo gizelti

Dâ daz swert sî giborgin

Du heiz dîn wîb Avin

Vur daz betti gâhin,

Ob er ûf welli,

Daz sû in eddewaz âvelli

Du zûhiz wîglichi

Undi slâ vravillichi,

Du slâ Holoferni

Daz houbit von dem bûchi,

Du lâ ligin den satin bûch,

Daz houbit stôz in ginin stûch.

Then God took pity on her.Then he sent an angel from heaven,who revealed it to the woman here below: now rise, you excellent Judith,who prayed dilligently to god,

go to the tent,

where the sword is hidden.

Command your chambermaid Ava,

to go in front of the bed,

to keep him down

when he wants to rise,

now draw battle-like (the sword)

and hit boldly,

hit his head from his belly,

leave his drunk belly behind

and put his head in your sleeve.

 

This Judith needs more divine help than her Old English namesake. After invoking Gods help in a similar way as the Old English Judith (German Judith: nu hilf mir alwaltantir got, Old English Judith: Ic ðe, frymða God, ond frofre Gæst, Bearn alwaldan, biddan wylle), an angel comes down from heaven and narrates what she should do. Thus the actual action scene is not related and the angelus ex machine takes the responsibility away from our heroine. Nevertheless, the words of the angel imply that she is still the same sword wielding heroine as in the Old English poem as is clear from the words wîglichi “battle-like” and vravillîchi “boldly”, martial epithets for a martial protagonist.

In the High and Late Middle Ages numerous Judith receptions followed, several of which have made their way to written form. The biblical heroine had become part of oral tradition and plays a role in the work of Chaucer and Dante. Folk songs and many oral versions of the story were brought by trouvères and minstrels from town to town and were integrated into the collective reservoir of oral poetry.

Finally we may note that the tale of the woman cutting off an evil mens head and carrying it home became a folk motive which eventually made its way into the late Middle Dutch Heer Halewijnlied, a Dutch folk song that probably is to be ascribed to the 14th c., despite the only copy dating from a 19th c. scholarly edition of the song from a lost leaflet. We may also wonder whether the name Halewijn is not in some way connected to the name Holofernes, perhaps via Early Romance *ɔlɔƀɛrn which provoked a folk etymological interpretation. It has been argued that the English Elf-Knight and Danish Ulver from modern folktales are also to be connected to the Holofernes of the biblical Judith tale (Nygard 1958: 32).

To me this song holds special significance since it was my first introduction to the historical prestages of Dutch in high school and a great one it was. The story of the song is amazing in every possible way. A princess hears the magic song of a dark knight called lord Halewijn who makes every woman in the land fall in love and elope with him. The princess also hears the song and asks permission from her parents and family to go to Halewijn. Every family member tells her not to go (neen, mijn dochter, neen, gi niet, wie derwaert gaen en keeren niet “no, my daughter, not you, who goes yonder does not come back”), but her brother says she can go just as long as she keeps her honour. Of course she doesn’t intend to keep her honour and goes to Halewijn for some serious extramarital intercourse. Unfortunately for our heroine, Halewijn has the nasty habit of slaying the women he slept with and she, alas, is no exception. Gallantly he does offer her a choice in the manner of her execution. Our heroine has both brains and brawn and chooses the sword but bids him to take off his shirt lest it get soaked in blood. Halewijn takes off his shirt, but the princess has already grabbed his sword and cuts off his head. She puts it in her garments and walks away.

Heer Halewijn heeft alsdan geseid:“Mits gi di scoonste maget zijtSoo kiest u dood; het is nu tijd.” “Wel, als ik dan hier kiesen sal,

Soo kies ic tsweert noch boven al.

Maer trect eerst uit u opperst kleet:

Want maegdenbloet dat spreit soo breet:

Soot u bespreide, dat ware mi leet.

En eer sijn kleet getogen was,

Sijn hooft al voor sijn voeten lag.

(Willems 1848:118)

 

Lord Halewijn then said:Unless you are the prettiest maidenChoose your execution: it is time.Well, if I have to choose here,

so I will choose the sword above all other ways.

But take off your shirt, because maidenblood

Spills o so widely. I would hate to see it soil you! And before his shirt was off, his head lay at his feet.

In every way this sassy young lady is heiress to a long tradition of Judith receptions and embodies the bold female protagonist who outwits the evil antagonist and defends her own honour by beheading her male opponent. In this regard she is strikingly similar to Gregory of Tours slave girl who killed Duke Amalo. In both cases, the message is clear: Don’t mess with a smart woman or you might lose your head!

Bibliography

Brine, Kevin R.

2010        “The Judith Project” in: The sword of Judith: Judith studies across the disciplines, Kevin R. Brine e.a. eds. (Cambridge).

Gregory of Tours

1974       History of the Franks, Lewis Thorpe ed. (London).

Nygard, Holger Olof

1958      The ballad of Heer Halewijn, its form and variations in western Europe: a study of the history and nature of a ballad tradition (Helsinki).

Treharne, Elaine

2000        Old and Middle English c. 890- c. 1400; an anthology (Oxford).

Waag, Albert

1890 Kleinere deutsche Gedichten des XI und XII Jahrhunderts (Halle).

Weber Robert e.a. eds.

1969        Biblia Sacra; iuxta vulgatam versionem (Stuttgart).


Willems, J.F.

1848           Oude Vlaemsche liederen; ten deele met de melodiën (Gent).

 

A Berber fable in Middle Atlas Tamazight

“the tale of the jackal, the lion and the hyena”

Although North Africa has been part of the Muslim world for over a millennium, amidst the vast linguistic ocean of Arabic there are some considerable islands of  Berber speaking communities to be found. From the Atlantic Ocean in the west to the Siwa oasis in Egypt and as far north as the Mediterannean and as far south as Burkina Faso Berber languages are spoken. Berber speakers have been native to North Africa for several millennia at least and the language survived the presence of Phoenician, Roman,Vandal and Byzantine rulers, before the Umayyad dynasty conquered Maghrebi North Africa in the late 7th c. CE. In the colonial period (late 19th, early 20th c. CE) a substantial part of North Africa was administered by French colonial rulers, leaving French as an official language in Morocco and Algeria. But also Berber stood its ground and nowadays presumably some 10 million people speak a Berber language, or as many Berber speakers would call it Tamazight. Although the unifying term ‘Berber’ might suggest some sort of linguistic unity, the diversity amongst the Berber languages is best compared to the diversity amongst the Germanic or Romance languages (Kossmann 2012).

I have started learning Middle Atlas Berber with the help and instruction of Marijn van Putten (Leiden University) and I am positively mesmerized by the exotic nature and beauty of the language. As a seasoned Indo-Europeanist, wrestling through the alien syntax and morphology of a non-IE language takes some getting used to, but overall I think I am catching on. In this post I would like to share a Berber fable that I translated. This fable is to be found in Harry Stroomer’s edition of Arsène Roux Textes Berbères du Maroc central: textes originaux en transcription (Stroomer ed.: 2007). Arsène Roux collected these stories and fairy tales in the 1920’s and 1930’s when Morocco was a French protectorat. He collected and annotated these stories for educational purposes, to be used at the Institut des hautes etudes Marocaines. The language in which these stories were written is called Tamazight [θamaziɣθ], but since this simply means “Berber language” it is more aptly called Middle Atlas Berber. As a Northern Berber language it shared in the socalled Northern Berber spirantization which turned lax stops into fricatives. Dental stops became interdental fricatives and velar stops became prepalatal fricatives.

Northern Berber Spirantization

*b > b [β]

*t > t [θ]

*d > d [ð]

*g > ḡ [ʝ] (> y )

*k > k [ç] (> š).

Arsène Roux used a very phonetic orthography that also reflected the colouring effects of emphatic consonants. In the text that I will cite below I have adapted the text into a more phonemic transcription, connecting better to recent publications in Berberology. The allophonic colourings of the vowels under influence of the emphatic consonants are all rendered by the underlying unpharangylized phoneme, e.g. Roux ṭå = mine ṭa, Roux –än = Mine -an.

                Roux    Mine

                e              ə

                j               ž

                ɛ              ʕ

                ḫ             x

                ġ              ɣ

When compared to the form of the language laid down in Penchoen’s 1973 grammar, Tamazight of the Ayt Ndhir, some pecularities may be noted. The dialect that Roux wrote down underwent more advanced spirantization than the one Penchoen described, hence we find š for  k and y for . Below you will first find the original text with the translation and then a glossing of each sentence. The excessively used inn-as “he said to him” will only be glossed the first time. Following Penchoen I have called most grammatical morpheme “particles” which may lead to some terminology confusion. Just read “morpheme” for each grammatical morpheme that I called a “particle”. A final remark concerns the terms état libre and état annexion exclusively used in Berber linguistics. The état libre may be considered a kind of default accusative, while the état annexion is used after prepositions and as a subject marker. They will be abbreviated as EL and EA.

Once again, thanks to Marijn van Putten for guiding me through this text. For examples of his recent work, see his blogs http://phoenixblog.typepad.com and http://orientalberber.wordpress.com/. If you find any mistakes or typo’s or have remarks on the analysis, please remark to this post or send me an email. Apparently, due to some import effects of Worpress not all text makeup from my word document survived into the final blogpost (this goes for the spirantization stripes and emphatic consonants, especially the emphatic spirantized d). I do not know how to remedy this. if you have any suggestions or questions, please tell me!

64. Ləḥdiyt-wuššən d-izəm d-məžžɣyuly

Inn-aš: Iqqima wuššən alliy-t-inɣa laẓ, day iddu ar-ittšuš i-ʕari, alliy idəṛ xəf izəm, yaf-t-inn ar-t-ittawi yiṭṣṭṣ i-ʕari. Inn-as: “A-ʕəmmi izəm, idd-is-k-nɣant wallən?” Inn-as: “nɣant-i” Inn-as: “ad-aš nəʕtəx asafar.” Inn-as: “Mani-y-illa?” Inn-as: “Illa gg-wul n-məžžɣyuly, ḥaš-aš.” Inn-as: “I-ma-yi-t-id ittawiyn?” Inn-as: “Ad-aš-t-id awix nəkk!” Iddu ɣər məžžɣyuly, ḥaš-aš, inn-as: “Ma-š-yaɣən lla ttsḥizunt zəgg-uḍaṛ?” Inn-as: “A-uddi  iʕəṛṛəm-iyi!” Inn-as: “ʕiyyənx-aš aḍbib.” Inn-as: “Iwa kkər-ax ad-ɣuṛ-s nmun!” Ddun-d alliy-d iwḍən izəm. Nitni iwḍən izəm, inn-as wuššən i-məžžɣyul: “Silliy s-aḍbib, ẓẓayən-as šwiʸ iməžžann.” Nətta isilliʸ ɣuṛ-s, iggʷəd-as irwəl, day itfuṛ-t-wuššən, inn-as: “Inddmad əy-tərwəlt, aḍar-ənnəš ira ad-ižžiʸ. bar is təggwədd i-uryaz iran ad-aš iyy asafar?” Alliy-t-id irura, iṣṣiwəḍ-as-t-id i-izəm, inn-as: “Ad-ur-ttəggwəd i-uryaz is-iran ad-aš iyy asafar!” day iwwət-t izəm, irdəl-t. Inn-as wuššən: “Aǧǧ-i-nəkk at-t-azux!” d(a)-ar-t-ittazu wuššən. Alliy-t-yazu day ičč ul-n-məžžɣyuly.

The tale of the jackal, the lion and the hyena

He said to you: Once upon a time there was a jackal who was afflicted by hunger. Then he went roaming in the desert untill he fell upon a lion, he found him there sleeping in the desert. He said to him: “O uncle lion, do your eyes hurt?” the lion said to him: “My eyes do hurt”. The jackal said to the lion: “Shall I show you medicine?” the lion said to him: “Where is it?” the jackal said to him: “It is in the heart of the hyena, pardon the word.” The lion said to him: “Who will bring it to me?” The jackal said: “I will bring it to you”. He went to the hyena, pardon the word, and he said to him: “What has happened to you that you limp on a foot?” the hyena said to him: “o friend, I am in pain!” the jackal said to him: “I will point you to a doctor” the hyena said to him: “So stand up to us and we will travel to him together!” They reached the lion and the jackal said to the hyena: “Come close to the doctor, he is a little hard of hearing.” And he (the hyena) came closer to him (the lion), but he was scared of him and fled, and the jackal followed him (the hyena) and said to him (the hyena): you fled immediately (when) he (the lion) wants  to cure your foot. It isn’t the case that you flee for the person who wants to bring medicine to you?” Then the hyena returned to the jackal and the jackal brought the hyena to the lion and said to him: “You should not be afraid of the person who wants to do medicine to you!” Then the lion hit him (the hyena) and brought him down. And the jackal said: “Leave him to me and I will flay him. Than the jackal flayed him. When he had flayed him he ate the heart of the hyena himself.

64. Ləḥdiyt-wuššən d-izəm d-məžžɣyulʸ

Inn-aš: Iqqima wuššən alliy-t-inɣa laẓ 

He said to you: Once upon a time there was a jackal who was afflicted by hunger

  • Inn-aš “he said to you” Ini perf.3.sg.m. aš dat.pron. 2.sg.m verbal satellite
  • Iqqima “to stay, to be” qqim perf.3.sg.m. wuššən “jackal” EA
  • alliy-t-inɣa “when he afflicted him” alliy- “when” -t- “him” acc.pron.3.sg.m. -inɣa “he afflicted” nəɣ perf.3.sg.m.
  • laẓ “hunger” EA subject

day iddu ar-ittšuš i-ʕari

then he went roaming in the desert

  • day “then”
  • iddu “he went” ddu aor.3.sg.m.
  • ar-ittšuš “roaming” ar continuative particle (+ impf.) ittšuš impf. 3.sg.m. tt- + ss +šəṭ “to cause to glide” tt- impf.pref. ss- caus.pref.
  • i-ʕari  “in the desert” i- prep. “in” ʕari  “desert” EA

alliy id̠̣əṛəṛ xəf izəm, yaf-t-inn ar-t-ittawi yiṭṣ i-ʕari.

untill he fell upon a lion, he found him there sleeping in the desert.

  • alliy “when”
  • id̠̣əṛ “he fell” d̠̣əṛ aor. 3.sg.m.
  • xəf “on, about”
  • izəm “lion” EA
  • yaf-t-inn “he found him there” yaf- “he found” af aor. 3.sg.m., -t- “him” acc.pron.3.sg.m., -inn “thither” orientation particle “thither”
  •  ar-t-ittawi yiṭṣ “sleeping” ar continuative particle, -t- “him” acc.pron.3.sg.m., ittawi “carries” awəy “to carry” impf. 3.sg.m.  yiṭṣ “sleep”

Inn-as: “A-ʕəmmi izəm, idd-is-k-nɣant wallən?”

He said to him: “O uncle lion, do your eyes hurt?”

  • Inn-as“he said to him” Ini “to say” perf.3.sg.m., as “to him” dat.pron. 3.sg.m verbal satellite
  • A-ʕəmmi izəm “o uncle lion” a- vocative particle, ʕəmmi “paternal uncle”  izəm “lion” EL
  • idd-is-k-nɣant “do they hurt to you” idd- question particle, -is- “to” prep., -k- “you” acc.pron. 2.sg.m. (sandhi-variant -k- instead of -š-), -nɣant “they afflict” nəɣ perf. 3.pl.f.
  • wallən “eyes” EA subject

Inn-as: “nɣant-i” Inn-as: “Ad-aš nəʕtəx asafar.”

The lion said to him: “My eyes do hurt”. The jackal said to the lion: “Shall I show you medicine?”

  • nɣant- “they afflict” nəɣ perf. 3.pl.f., -i “me” acc.pron. 1.sg.
  • Ad-aš nəʕtəx “shall I show you”, ad- projective particle (future), -“to you” dat.pron. 2.sg.m verbal satellite, nəʕtəx  “I show” nəʕt aor. 1.sg.
  • Asafar “medicine” EL object

Inn-as: “Mani-y-illa?” Inn-as: “Illa gg-wul n-məžžɣyulʸ, ḥaš-aš.”

the lion said to him: “Where is it?” the jackal said to him: “It is in the heart of the hyena, pardon the word.”

  • Mani-y-illa “where is it”  mani- “where”, -y- transitional glide, -illa “is it” ili perf.3.sg.m.
  •  gg-wul n-məžžɣyulʸ “in the heart of the hyena” gg-wul < *i(y)-wul (sandhi-effect) i- “in” prep., n- “of” genitive particle,  məžžɣyulʸ “hyena” EA
  • ḥaš-aš “pardon the word”, ḥaša- “absolutely not, never” -“to you” dat.pron. 2.sg.m verbal satellite,  expression used by taboo-subjects, can be translated more litterally as “loin de toi”.

Inn-as: “I-m-ay-i-t-id ittawiyn?” Inn-as: “Ad-aš-t-id awix nəkk!”

The lion said to him: “Who will bring it to me?” The jackal said: “I will bring it to you”.

  • I-m-ay-i-t-id ittawiyn “who will bring it to me” ma- “who” question particle, -ay- “that” relative pronoun, -i- “to” prep., -t- “it” acc.pron. 3.sg.m., -id  “hither” orientation particle
  • Ad-aš-t-id awix nəkk “(I) will bring it to you” Ad- projective particle (future), -- “to you” dat.pron. 2.sg.m., -t- “it” acc.pron. 3.sg.m., -id  “hither” orientation particle. nəkk “I” independent pers.pron. (appositive).

Iddu ɣər məžžɣyulʸ, ḥaš-aš, inn-as: “Ma-š-yaɣən lla ttsḥizunt zəgg-uḍaṛ?”

He went to the hyena, pardon the word, and he said to him: “What has happened to you that you limp on a foot?”

  • iddu “he went” ddu aor.3.sg.m.
  • ɣər “to, toward” prep.
  • Ma-š-yaɣən “what has happened to you”, ma- “what” question particle,  -(a)š- “to you” dat.pron. 2.sg.m,  -yaɣən “has happened” relative subject participle (aor.)
  • lla ttsḥizunt  “that you limp” lla- extensive particle (durative),  ttsḥizunt “you limp” sḥizun < *tt + ss + ḥzən “to be afflicted” impf. 2.sg.
  • zəgg-uḍaṛ “on a foot” < *zəy-uḍaṛ, zəy “from” prep.,  uḍaṛ EA

Inn-as: “A-uddi,  iʕəṛṛəm-iyi!” Inn-as: “ʕiyyənx-aš aḍbib.”

the hyena said to him: “o friend, I am in pain!” the jackal said to him”I will point you to a doctor”

  • A-uddi “o friend,” a- vocative particle, -uddi “friend” EL
  • iʕəṛṛəm-iyi “I am in pain,” iʕəṛṛəm “to have pain” ʕəṛṛəm aor. 3.sg.m., -iyi- “to me” acc.pronoun. 1.sg.
  • ʕiyyənx-aš “I will point you,” ʕiyyənx “I will point” ʕiyyən aor. 1.sg., -“to you” dat.pron. 2.sg.m verbal satellite.
  • aḍbib “doctor” EL

Inn-as: “Iwa kkər-ax ad-ɣuṛ-s nmun!”

He said to him: “So stand up to us and we will travel to him together!”

  • iwa “so” continuity particle
  • kkər-ax “stand up” kkər < *nkər “to stand up, to set to” imp. 2.sg., ax “to us” dat.pronoun. 1.pl.
  • ad-ɣuṛ-s  “to him,” ad- projective particle, ɣuṛ “to” prep., -s “him” dat.pron. 3.sg.
  • nmun “we travel together” mun “to accompany, to be together” aor. 1.pl.

Ddun-d alliy-d iwḍən izəm.

They went untill they reached the lion

  • ddun- “they went” ddu “to go” aor.3.pl.m., -d hitherorientation particle
  • alliy-“untill” alliy “when, untill” temporal particle, -d hitherorientation particle
  • iwḍən “they reached” awəḍ “to arrive” pf. 3.pl.m.
  • izəm “lion” EL

Nitni iwḍən izəm, inn-as wuššən i-məžžɣyul:

They reached the lion, and the jackal said to the hyena:

  • Nitni “they” indepedent personal pron.
  • iwḍən “they reached” awəḍ “to arrive” pf. 3.pl.m.
  • wuššən “jackal” EA
  • i-məžžɣyul “to the hyena” i- “to” prep., məžžɣyul “hyena” EA

“Silli-s aḍbib, ẓẓayən-as šwiʸ iməžžann.”

“Come close to the doctor, he is a little hard of hearing.”

  • Silliʸ “come close” silləy < *ss + illəy “to make room, to come close,” imper. 2.sg., -s “to him” dat.pron. 3.sg.
  • aḍbib “doctor” EL
  • ẓẓayən-as “they are heavy to him” ẓẓay aor. 3.pl.m.,
  • -as “to him” dat.pron. 3.sg.m verbal satellite.
  • šwiʸ “a little”
  • iməžžann “ears” amezzuɣ pl. EA

Nətta isilliʸ ɣuṛ-s, iggʷəd-as irwəl, day itfuṛ-t-wuššən, inn-as:

He came closer to him, but he was afraid and fled, so the jackal followed him and said:

  • nətta “he” independent personal pron.
  • isilliʸ “he comes closes” silləy “to make room, to come close” aor. 3.sg.m.
  • ɣuṛ-s “to him,” ɣuṛ- “to” prep., -s “him” acc.pron. 3.sg.
  • irwəl “he ran away” ərwəl “to run, to flee” aor. 3.sg.m.
  • day “so, then”  continuity particle
  • itfuṛ-t-wuššən “the jackal followed him,” itfuṛ- “he followed” tfuṛ “to follow, to chase” aor. 3.sg.m., -t- “him” acc.pronoun. 3.sg.m., wuššən “jackal” EL
  • iggʷəd-as “he was afraid of him” ggʷəd < *wwəd   “to be afraid” aor. 3.sg.m., as “to him” dat.pron. 3.sg.m verbal satellite

“Inddmad əy-tərwəlt, aḍar-ənnəš ira ad-ižžiʸ.

“You fled immediately, (when) he wanted to cure your foot”

  • inddmad “immediately” dialectal form of idmadd.
  • əy-tərwəlt “you fled” əy- < *aḡ demonstr.pron. in cleft sentences, tərwəlt < * tərwəld, ərwəl, “to flee” aor. 3.sg.m.
  • aḍar-ənnəš “your foot” EL direct object, aḍar “foot”, ənnəš “your” poss.pron. 3.sg.
  • ira “he wants” iri “to want” aor. 3.sg.m.
  •  ad-ižžiʸ “he will cure”, ad projective particle (future), ižžiʸ “he cures” žžəy “to cure” aor. 3.sg.m.

bar is təggʷədd i-uryaz iran ad-aš iyy asafar?”

It isnt the case that you are afraid for the person who wants to bring medicine to you?”

  • bar conjunction “isn’t it the case, perhaps that”
  • is question particle
  • təggʷədd  “you are afraid” ggʷəd < *wwəd   “to be afraid” aor. 2.sg.
  • i-uryaz “to the man” i “to” prep., uryaz “man” EA
  • iran “who wants” iri “to want” relative subject participle sg.
  • ad-aš “to you” ad- projective particle, -“to you” dat.pron. 2.sg.m. verbal satellite.
  • Iyy “he puts, does” y- < *ḡ- “to do, to put” aor. 3.sg.m.
  • Asafar “medicine” EL

Alliy-t-id irura, iṣṣiwəḍ-as-t-id i-izəm, inn-as:

Then the hyena returned to the jackal and the jackal brought the hyena to the lion and said to him:

  • Alliy-t-id “then to him” alliy- “then” temporal particle, -t- “him” acc.pronoun. 3.sg.m., -id “hither” orientation particle
  • Irura “he returned” rar “to return” perf. 3.sg.m.
  • iṣṣiwəḍ-as-t-id “he brought him to him” iṣṣiwəḍ “to cause to arrive” ṣṣiwəḍ < *ss + awəḍ aor. 3.sg.m., as “to him” dat.pron. 3.sg.m verbal satellite, , -t- “him” acc.pronoun. 3.sg.m., -id “hither” orientation particle
  • i-izəm “to the lion” i- “to” prep., -izəm “lion” EA

“Ad-ur-ttəggʷəd i-uryaz is-iran ad-aš iyy asafar!”

“You should not be afraid of the person who wants to do medicine to you!”

  • Ad-ur-ttəggʷəd “You should not be afraid” Ad- projective particle, -ur- “not” negative particle, ttəggʷəd “You are not afraid” ggʷəd < *wwəd “to be afraid” impf. 2.sg.
  • i-uryaz “to the man” i- “to” prep., uryaz “man” EA
  • is-iran “who wants” is- “who” relat.pron., -iran “wanting” iri “to want” pf. relative subject participle.
  • ad-aš “to you” ad- projective particle, -“to you” dat.pron. 2.sg.m. verbal satellite.
  • Iyy “he puts, does” y- < *ḡ – “to do, to put” aor. 3.sg.m.
  • Asafar “medicine” EL

day iwwət-t izəm, irdəl-t.

Then the lion hit him and brought him down.

  • day “then” continuity particle
  • iwwət-t “he hit him” iwwət < *iwwət “he hit” (sandhi-induced despirantization) wwət ( also gʷət) “to hit, to strike” aor. 3.sg.m., -t < *t “him” acc.pronoun. 3.sg.m.
  • izəm EA
  • irdəl-t “he brought him down” irdəl- “he brought down” ərdəl “to fall, to make fall” aor. 3.sg.m., -t “him” acc.pronoun. 3.sg.m.

Inn-as wuššən: “Aǧǧ-i-nəkk at-t-azux!”

Then the jackal said to him: “Leave him to me and I will flay him.”

  • Aǧǧ-i-nəkk “leave to me” Aǧǧ- “leave”  imper. 2.sg., -i- “to” prep.,  -nəkk “me” independent pron. 1.sg.
  • at-t-azux “I will flay him” at- < *ad projective particle (future) (sandhi-induced despirantization), -t- < -t- “him” acc.pronoun. 3.sg.m., -azux “I flay” azu “to flay” aor. 1.sg.

d(a)-ar-t-ittazu wuššən.

and the jackal flayed him.

  • d- “and” prep. “with” used as conjunct., -ar- continuative particle,  -t- “him” acc.pron. 3.sg.m., -ittazu “he flayed” azu “to flay” impf. 3.sg.m.
  • wuššən “jackal” EA

Alliy-t-yazu day ičč ul-n-məžžɣyulʸ

When he had flayed him he ate the heart of the hyena (himself).

  • Alliy-t-yazu “when he had flayed him,” alliy- “when” temporal particle, -t- “him” acc.pron. 3.sg.m., -yazu “he flayed” azu “to flay”aor. 3.sg.m.
  •  day “then” continuative particle
  •  Ičč “he ate” čč- “to eat” aor. 3.sg.m.
  • ul-n-məžžɣyulʸ “the heart of the hyena,” ul- “heart’ EL, -n- “of” genitive particle, məžžɣyulʸ “hyena”

Bibligraphy
Arsène Roux, Textes Berbères du Maroc central (textes originaux en transcription) Tome 1: récits, contes et légendes berbères dans le parles des Beni-Mtir et choix de versions berbères (parlers du Maroc central), Harry Stroomer ed., Berber Studies 18 (Cologne 2007).

Thomas G. Penchoen, Tamazight of the Ayt Ndhir, Wolf Leslau and Thomas G. Penchoen eds., Afroasiatic dialects I (Los Angeles 1973).

On Rainbows, sex change and marrying a sky god

Relations of Pre-Islamic Berber fertility conceptions with Indo-European mythology 

The appearance of a rainbow in the sky has fired mans imagination to many mythical beliefs. For example, the medieval Scandinavians believed the gods walked across the mythical rainbow bifrǫst (PGmc. < *biƀarastō “trembling road”), which they conceived of as a road to heaven guarded from the giants by the god Heimdall.[1] Folk beliefs surrounding rainbows have proven remarkably resilient to the monoculturizing aspirations of christianity and islam. In premodern Europe, many sub-christian conceptions about the nature of rainbows survived the prescriptivism of the church. The conception concerning a pot of gold falling to the individual who makes it to the end of the rainbow is still widely known, even nowadays in 21st century Europe. Other conceptions have withered; Grimm reported that in 18th c. Serbia people attributed gender changing powers to rainbows, every boy was turned into a girl when he passed under a rainbow (Grimm 1875: 610).[2]

Also in Maghrib Africa some non-Islamic conceptions have survived the cultural steamroller of an institutionalized monotheistic religion, in this case Islam. In Morocco the rainbow is an omen signalling happiness and the much desired rains (Becker 2003: 111). In Middle Atlas Berber the word for rainbow is Tisəlit n-unẓar [3], which means “the bride of the rain” (mariée de la pluie), In Maghrebi Arabic we find ʿārūs s-sḥāb, ʿāṛūst əs-sta (Rabat), l-əʿṛōsa d-əš-šta (Northern Ibala area), laʿṛūsa dyāl əš-šta and ʿāṛūst əs-sma (Cherchell Algeria)“bride of the heaven,” which are all calques from Berber (Behnstedt 2010: 416).[4] The rainbow simultaneously symbolizes the fertility of women and the fertility of the land, with the interrelationship reinforced by female rainmaking rituals. The name “bride of the rain” may originally have been connected to the colourfulness of Berber bridal gowns and the other way around living Berber tradition connects the colourfulness of the wedding dresses with the colours of the rainbow.

However, another connection might be proposed. In ancient Greece the rainbow was called ἶρις, (gen. ἶριδος), a word that could also mean the halo of the moon.[5] The Greeks also believed that rainbows signified coming rain. The deification of the rainbow as the goddess Ἶρις, the divine offspring of Thaumas and Elektra, is therefore interesting since our rainbow goddess is married to Ζέφυρος, the god of the favourable west wind and the foreboder of spring and good weather[6]. Even when Ζέφυρος is called stormy (Gk. δυσαής) and noisy (Gk. κελαδεινός), he fulfills the favourable role of kindling Patroklos’ pyre (Illias II, 200-220). That the word Ζέφυρος may have been connected to primitive Greek conceptions of fertility is suggested by its etymology. The most accepted etymology connects the word to the PIE root *h3i̯ebh- “futuere” (cf. Skt. yábhati “copulate”), which is plausible provided we accept the soundlaw PIE *Hi̯- > Gk. *ζ-, i.e. PIE *h3i̯ebh-u-ros > Gk. ζέφυρος (Beekes 2009: 499). We may therefore interpret the theonym as originally alluding to the virility of the West Wind.

In ancient Rome the rainbow was also associated with coming rains, although the rainbow itself was not deified and was simply called arcus caelestis. A bawdy scene in Plautus’ Curculio relates the Roman belief that rainbows sucked up terrestrial waters that later came down in the form of rain, which is confirmed by later Roman authors like Plinius (Arnott 1995: 191). The Romans also believed that rainbows signified the blessing of Juno, a goddess associated with fertility rites (e.g. the lupercalia), indicating a similar connection between rainbows and fertility as in North Africa.

What I am hinting at is the possibility that the mythological “marriage” of rainbows as omens of rain and fertility with a personification of “virile, masculine weather” may have been a shared conception on either side of the Mediterranean. We may note that Ἶρις as the rainbow goddess was clad in an extremely colourful dress for the colours of her dress matched the colours of the rainbow (Parisinou 2005: 34). The same analogy is made of the rainbow and wedding dresses in Berber culture[7]. That the conception of the rainbow as such might be more wide-spread is also suggested by the 18th c. Bavarian folk belief that a deity identified by the farmers as the virgin Mary brings fertile rains (Quitzman 1860: 132). Interestingly this female deity, who might be identified as the Germanic goddess *siƀō (OIc. sif) does so, clad in a colourfull dress who’s seam is perceived by the mortals as a rainbow.

In Scandinavian mythology the goddess Sif, goddess of fertile rains, is married to the thunder god Þor. Here we find the same pairing of “raingoddess” with “virile weather” or even “virile sky god”. In this regard we should also note that the ancient Aryans attributed the rainbow to the god Indra, the dyaus pitar (father of the sky). Although this evidence might suggest an Indo-European basis for the “marriage” between “rainbows” and “sky gods” we might also be dealing with a mythological motive that is not exclusive to any part of the world. A good illustration of the “universality” of the motive can be found accross the Atlantic where the Iroquois guardian of heaven, Hino “the thunderer”, is said to be married to the rainbow. Nevertheless, the Berber image of the rainbow as “the bride of the rain(god)” might very well have originated in the Indo-European cultural sphere, having crossed the Mediterranean as so many cultural items have.

Bibliography

Arnott, Geoffrey W., “The opening of Plautus’ Curculio: Comic business and mime”, in: Plautus und die Tradition des Stegreifspiels, Lore Benz e.a. eds. (Tübingen 1995) 185-192.

Becker, Cynthia, “Gender, Identity and Morroccan weddings”, in: Wedding dress across cultures, Helen Bradly Foster et Donald Clay Johnson eds. (Oxford 2003)

Beekes, Robert S.P., Etymological dictionary of Greek, 2 vols, Leiden Indo-European Etymological Dictionary Series 10/1-2 (Leiden 2009).

Behnstedt, Peter et Manfred Woidich, Wortatlas der Arabische Dialekte; band I: Mensch, Natur, Flora und Fauna (Leiden 2010).

Grimm, Jacob, Deutsche Mythologie (Berlin 1875-77).

Lee, Raymond L. et Alistair B. Fraser, The Rainbow Bridge; rainbows in art, myth and science (Pennsylvania 2001).

Parisinou, Eva, “Brightness Personified; light and divine image in ancient Greece” in: Personification in the Greek world; from antiquity to Byzantium, Emma Stafford et Judith Herrin eds. (London 2005) 29-44.

Quitzman, Anton, Die heidnische Religion der Baiuwaren; erster faktischer Beweis für die Abstammung dieses Volkes (Heidelberg 1860).


[1] On the other side of the globe, the aborigines of Australia believe the rainbow is a manifestation of a bisexual (or female) rainbow serpent.

[2] Apparently this belief was widespread in European cultures, not only found in Serbia but also in the folklores of Early Modern France, Germany, Albania (Lee et Frasier 2001). In the north of Olténie people apparently believed that anyone who hopped under a rainbow was granted a sex change. (see Handbuch des Deutschen Aberglaubens II 753).

[3] The rainbow is also called taməġra n-wuššən in Tamazight which means “the wedding of the jackal”.

[4] See Behnstedt 2004.

[5] Gk. ἶρις (< PGk. *ϝιρις) is often etymologically connected to the PIE root *u̯eh1i- “to bend” and can formally be compared with OIc. vírr “twisted ornament”.

[6] In Roman mythology the attribution of favourable weather to the god of the west wind is also clear from its name, i.e. favonius.

[7] However, the image of the rainbow as a woman clad in colourful cloths is not restricted to the mediterranean. The Arab poet Ibn al-Rūmi (869 CE) who lived and worked in Bagdad also likenes the rainbow as a maiden clothed in a gaily-coloured dress.

Peter Alexander Kerkhof, MA

In 2008 when I started this weblog I was still working on my BA in History at Leiden University specializing in the Early Middle Ages and their vernacular literatures. At the Leiden institute of Comparative Indo-European Linguistics I had the opportunity and privilege to follow introductory and advanced courses in many of the medieval vernaculars. Ancient cultures, Ancient languages, Ancient history. I am very passionate about all of them.

I named the weblog “wanana sculun Frankon” after the famous Old High German exhortation of Otfrid of Weissenburg in his 9th c. versified Liber Evangeliorum (Liber I, Cap. I 33-34): wánana sculun Fránkon, éinon thaz biwánkon, ni sie in frénkisgon bigínnen, sie gotes lób singen (Vollmann-Profe 1987: 36-37). We could translate this in Modern English as: Why should the Franks be the only ones to hesitate to begin to sing the praises of god in the Frankish language.

I chose this Old High German verse as the title for my blog because I wanted to write about the interdisciplinary field between Medieval studies and historical linguistics. In Early Medieval studies the vernaculars are grossly undervalued at the moment. This is due to severe revisionism of the twentieth century paradigm of Barbarian peoples and states on the part of the historians, while most historical linguists working with Early Medieval languages and cultures still succesfully use the paradigm in their inquiries into Early Medieval culture. This is why the title wanana sculun Frankon seemed strangely appropriate for voicing my concerns regarding the divide between the disciplines.

After my BA in History I chose to do a MA in Comparative Indo-European Linguistics, because there were so many cool old languages to be learned. I specialized in Indo-European word formation and the historical phonology of the western Indo-European languages. This summer I finished my MA in Comparative Linguistics Cum Laude with a MA-thesis entitled Suffix variation in the PGmc. l-suffixes and the ablaut of the PIE l-stems which was graded with a 9/10 mark. My supervisors suggested expanding this research into a PhD-thesis encompassing the PIE l-formations by and large, work on which I can hopefully start next year. When I have integrated the main critiques of my supervisors in my thesis, I will put it on Academia.edu for those of you who might want to read it.You can find me at: http://leidenuniv.academia.edu/PeterAlexanderKerkhof.

What will I be doing now? This year I will mainly be preparing my PhD-research for the PhD-position next year, hopefully publish some of my research in academic journals and start writing a non-academic book about the languages in the Early Middle Ages.

This is also a good moment to think about what I want with this blog. In the past years I have posted articles on various subjects, from translations of Ossetic Nart sagas, North-East-Caucasian etymologies to musings on Romance sound laws and the usual Early Medieval stuff. I want to continue doing this, making this blog an academic outlet for my ideas on Comparative Linguistics, Old Germanistics and Medieval studies. Right now I am getting some introductory notes into Proto-Semitic from a friend who is now doing a PhD in comparative Semititic linguistics and I am being taught about the history of the Berber languages by a friend who is doing a Phd in comparative Berber linguistics (visit his weblog at http://orientalberber.wordpress.com/about/). I might also try to expand my knowledge of Japanese, so my linguistics articles may more often cross the boundaries of the Indo-European language family than my readers might be used to. Because I write these posts in my spare time and the articles are not always carefully proofread, typo’s may slip in. If you find them, be so kind to point out these typo’s so I can correct the article. If you have questions, remarks or just feel the urge to respond to my articles, please do so. Everybody loves a good discussion.

Kind regards,

Peter Alexander Kerkhof

PS. Because weblog.leidenuniv has changed the weblog editor from B2evolution to WordPress the layout of my old articles has been ruined. I will try to repair them in the coming months. Hang on!

A 7th century Rap Battle between Bishops

The correspondence of Frodebert and Importun as a Merovingian verbal duel

Introduction

 Since the information age has permeated all aspects of Western society and everyone of us may be startled anytime by a text message arriving on our mobile phones,  it may be hard for us, 21st century scholars, to imagine a world where the written word was solely used as a complement to the spoken word. Despite recent scholarship focusing mainly on the traces of literacy the Merovingian Age has left us, no one shall contest that the Early Middle Ages were a place where the spoken word held prominence and society was predominantly illiterate.

Government in Merovingian Gaul depended on Frankish warlords ruling ruthless war bands who dominated a  countryside littered with late antique latifundiae and towns. In the towns the Merovingian church upheld the ruined vestiges of Roman bureaucracy, a bureaucracy the warlords gladly used to affirm their power. While the Roman Empire had perished these warlords still minted Roman-style coins and levied Roman taxes. The model of government these Early Medieval princes aspired to was a conflation of the ideal of Germanic martial nobility with models of authority indebted to Late Antiquity. Nevertheless, the true heir of Classical Rome was the Roman Church who inherited the administrative infrastructure and literacy of the Late Principate. Since the use of the written word was the prerogative and the profession of the clergy most of the documents that have reached us from the Merovingian age are deeply religious in wording and outlook. This may be why Bruno Krusch (1905), the famous editor of the Monumenta Germaniae Historica, called the curious correspondence between the bishops Frodebertus and Importunus “das wahrste Denkmal der ganzen Merowingerzeit”.

The text

Surviving in an early ninth-century manuscript (BN lat. 4627) together with multiple Merovingian formulae (epistolary models) the correspondence is one of the more peculiar monuments of Merovingian literacy. The antagonists are Frodebert (Old Frankish personal name *Hrōþiberχt) who was bishop of Tours from 653 to 674 CE and bishop Importun who was bishop of Paris from 664 to 666 CE. Judging on the episcopacies of the two bishops the correspondence can be dated to the period between 664 CE to 666 CE. The most conspicuous feature of the correspondence is its ludicrous content. What initially may be taken as a serious written complaint from one bishop to another about a faulty grain delivery quickly escalates into a fierce polemic where vulgarities aren’t shunned. Alternately the two bishops make accusations to eachother and denounce the accusations of the other party. In this regard we should note that the text has come down to us in an orthography that is significantly influenced by Romance vernacular features and uses an idiom which draws amply from colloquial registers. Modern editions were drafted by Zeumer (1886) and Walstra (1962) but recently Danuta Shanzer (2010) reedited the text in her article “The tale of Frodebert’s tail” (2010).

The content

For convenience purposes I will use Walstra´s numbering of the fragments and Shanzer´s allotment of authors to the fragments. Shanzer summarizes the contents of which I wil give an abridged version.

1 Frod. Frodebert complains about the quality of a grain shipment that Importun send to a convent of nuns that fall under the jurisdiction of Tours. No good bread can be made from it and Importun is invited to try it. Sarcasm abounds in the first letter.
2 Import. Importun repudiates the accusation and starts accusing Frodebert of abducting and seducing the wife of Grimoald, the Neustrian maiordomus. There they did not read scripture but…(lacuna). Frodebert was born in a monastery.
3 Import. Importun asserts that Frodebert is unworthy of his rang as bishop and does the devil’s work. Furthermore he accuses Frodebert of being unjustly manumitted,                fornication with all kinds of women and extortion of his nuns. By his long tail (penis), -is it long enough?-, Frodebert is encouraged to castrate himself.
4 Frod. Old Testament allusion to Proverbs by repeating Solomon that no one should be                 foolish enough to respond to a fool. Frodebert calls Importun a falsator, a susurro and a murro. Importun forgets that Frodebert helped and raised him. Frodebert swears that Importun is a liar and a bracco (Old Frankish *brakkō “dog”) in the manger, unbefitting of a baro (Old Frankish *barō “free man, warrior”).
5 Import. This part adresses domnae sanctae (nuns?) who are urged not to believe the lies. Liars resemble fures, murones and susurrones. The fox is more cowardly than a dog since he shows his tails, but hides his face, unable to face a dog. He grabs the hoopoe but not the swallow. He eats excrement and lies like an irishman. The domnae should not believe Frodebert.

Genre and function of the text

Shanzer subjects the text, its contents and its background to a thorough investigation highlighting the carnivalesque nature of the argumentation and the rhyme. She concludes her article by speculating that the correspondence might have been part of a public perfomance conducted at “some seventh-century Feast of Fools” (Shanzer 2010: 395). To my mind she hits the nail on the head and the dialogue should be intepreted as constituting a verbal duel meant for public display in the urbanity of some Merovingian town. In this regard comparison with similar verbal duels in other cultures might illucidate the dynamic of the dialogue. Shanzer herself remarks in a footnote (2010: 393, ftn. 63) that a connection to the Germanic flyting might be considered, but deems it to speculative. Instead she looks for ties with the Patristic writings of Jerome which are just as speculative but connect better to her field of research as a Latinist.

The Germanic flyting

The flyting is a Germanic verbal duel that was part of the interaction between warriors in the mead hall. This practice is reflected in Old Germanic literature, most notably in the Old Icelandic saga’s and the Old English Beowulf poem which was shown by Clover in her article “the Unferþ episode” (Clover 1980). A flyting consists of boast and insults in wich threats, curses and vows can also be used. Favourite insults pertained to acts of cowardice, dishonouring relatives and sexual irregularities, the latter catergory constituting a field of sexual defamation called níðr in Old Icelandic. These contests of wit can be seen as the verbal equivalent of a martial duel and are also characterized as such (Old Icelandic bregdask með orðum) but are not to be understood as a prelude to actual violence. Rather they constitute a battlefield on their own. We might see these verbal duels as form of performative anger or cathartic expressions of agression that strengthens and protects the community by containing and redirecting anger, fear and conflict (Brown 2002: 166).

The dynamic of a flyting consists of a claim from the one part, a concession from the accused party and a subsequent counterclaim. Interesting here is that the facts are not discussed since they are presumed to be known to the audience. Rather the interpretation of the facts is subject of discussion. The outcome was expected to be peacefull with the victorious party accruing honour and reknown from the occasion and the losing party defamed and supposedly holding his or her tongue. That this was not always the case is clear from the Old Icelandic saga material in which the losing party may seek immediate redress for the defeat and resort to actual violence. Unfortunately the role of the audience during the verbal duel is unknown to us from the Old Germanic material, eventhough at times it may have been crucial to the dynamic of the flyting and a verbal duel cannot be properly evaluated without it.

The parallels with the correspondence between Frodebert and Importun are clear. Sexual defamation and cowardice are central themes in the repertory of insults and serious accusations are made to either party. Interesting is that the accusations aren’t conceded as in the Germanic flyting but rather the credibility of the accusing party is called in question by adducing further defamatory anecdotes. There are further deviations from the Germanic flyting model, namely the use of formal (ecclesiastical) epithets and formula’s, the allusion to scripture and the invocation of God, which may be attributed to the urban christian culture of the Gallo-Frankish towns. On the other hand, cursing with the devil and eternal damnation is also to be found in the Old Icelandic saga material.  Furthermore, the audience seems to hold an important place in the verbal duel between Frodebert and Importun since they are adressed directly in Import. 5, where in the Old Icelandic saga’s they are largely left out of the debate. Although this Gallo-Frankish verbal duel may originally be indebted to native Frankish flyting practice, it is clear that it evolved into a more christianized form adapted to the urban culture of its public. We should also note that the content of the Gallo-Frankish verbal duel is less serious than its Germanic counterpart. We know that the insulsts used are punishable by law and the sarcasm points to a mocking battle of wits rather than to a dead serious verbal equivalent of actual sword play.

Verbal duels in general

The rhyming prose in which the fragments are written point to oral poetic delivery comparable to the modern Afro-American “dozen” or even a “rap-battle”. This is also corroborated by the text itself in which Frodebert accuses Importun to “sing” (psallat) like a fox in a snare (trappa < Old Frankish *trappō). Verbal duels are to be found all over the globe. We may cite Valentina Pagliai’s definition of a verbal duel in her 2009 article on the subject: “[verbal duels are] a genre of argumentative language that entails exchanges between two persons, parties or chracters that challenge each other to a perfomative display of verbal skillfulness in front of an audience. [...] In verbal dueling there is a stress on the performance, the display and the search for a public witnessing. At the same time, in verbal duels there is also a heightening of the poetic dimension.” (Pagliai 2009: 63). In her article she cites parallels from modern societies, i.e. modern day Tuscany, Ghana, Yemen, Nigeria, Guyana, Indonesia and Turkey. It is very well conceibable that Merovingian society also knew a form the “verbal duel”, to be performed at public occasions, an example of which by chance has made its way into written form. We may wonder whether the antagonists of the dialogue are also the performers of the verbal duel. The Merovingian episcopacy was a religo-political office with great religious and military authority and the exchange of such severe insults in an ordinary context would generally have been reason for feud and open warfare. Nevertheless, since the Old Icelandic evidence shows us that also kings could engage in flytings we should hold the possibility open that the in royal aula such a performative duel could be condoned and was actually part of court life. This would better explain why the verbal duel was written down in epistolary form than assuming it was part of satirical reenactment by commoners at a Merovingian carnival. It would explain the strange admixture of colloquial phrasings and learned formulas. To my mind scholars of Merovingian society focus too much on the christian context and thereby do not escape the tone of the discourse used by the writers of the sources.

Literary background

Shanzer’s fixation on the literary background is, to my mind, way off target when we are approaching a text reflecting oral perfomance. Interestingly enough she does acknowledge the colloquiality of the text when considering the specific insults that are used, since they are to be found in the Pactus Legis Salicae in the chapter that stipulates the compensation tariffs for dishonouring insults (de convitiis). When it comes to the animal metaphors however she does favour parallels in Patristic writings. Although her presumed models for these animal metaphors may be vaguely discerned in Jerome’s homelitic works the whole point of using animal metaphors is that they are based on the physical and behavioural traits of the animals in question and are therefore necessarily universal. The fragment in question is numbered “5 indiculus” and likenes Frodebert to a fox and its characteristics; he barks, moves by way of frivolous jumps, is shy, runs away from humans, and eats hoopoes instead of swallows. Shanzer argues that there is a Patristic model for the use of the hoopoe in the text since the Classical traditions that surround the hoopoe depict it as a unclean and dirty bird. She specifically points to Jerome’s work Adversus Iovinianum where the bird refers to unchaste nuns. This, according to Shanzer, would connect to the allegations of promiscuity uttered earlier in the text. However, arguing for such a connection may just as well be overanalysis. The hoopoe is also associated with excrement and filthiness (cp. ModDu. (dial.) schijtlijster) in northern European folk tradition and the use of the animal in the metaphor depicts the hoopoe as the prey of the fox while the swallow remains out of reach. Since the hoopoe forages on the ground while the swallow is air bound the metaphor may just refer to the fox opportunistic hunting habits and therefore lack of strength and bravery.

Romance features

Furthermore Shanzer fails to appreciate the orality of the text itself, namely the vernacular traits of the text that she attributes to the manuscript tradition. Haadsma and Nuchelmans (1963) in their “précis de latin vulgaire” show that the orthography, idiom and syntax are severely “romanized”. The Romance features include lenition of medial stops, loss of distinctive vowel length, reorganization of the verbal system, confusion of unstressed vowels, confusion of cases and adoption of Frankish lexic into Romance colloquial registers. To illustrate the rhyme, the tone of the duel and the Romance syntax I will cite several parts.

 

Latin Translation
1. frodebert (4-5)  
estimasti nos iam vicina You thought that we, while near
morte de fame perire was death, would die from hunger
quando talem annona such grain
voluisti largire[1] you wanted to offer from largesse
nec ad pretium Nor at a price
nec ad donum Nor as a gift
non cupimus tale anona Do we want such grain
3. Importun (1-2)  
Domno meo frodeberto To my lord Frodebert
Sine deo nec sancto Without god, neither holy
Nec episcopo nec seculare clerico Nor a bishop, nor a secular cleric
Ubi regnat antiquus hominum inimicus Who is possessed by the devil
4. Frodebert (26-29)  
non simulas tuo patre You don’t resemble your father
vere nec tua matre Nor your mother
non gaudeas de dentes Don’t rejoice in your teeth
deformas tuos parentes you dishonour your parents
ad tua falsatura Such falsehood
talis decet corona Befits such a crown

For a glimpse of how Romanized the grammar and phonology is I refer to Haadsma and Nuchelmans who have annotated a fair part of the text (Haadsma and Nuchelmans 1963: 118-122).

Conclusion

In short, what we have reflected in the atrabilious correspondence between the bishops Frodebert and Importun was in all likelihood a verbal duel between two bishops, premeditated and stylized in epistolary form, meant for oral perfomance at a mid 7th c. Merovingian monastery with a female convent as public. Such a poetic verbal duel does not only has parallels in the Old Germanic flyting but also in contemporary verbal duels in cultures accros the globe. ɔ

Bibliography

Clover, Carol J.

1980            “The Germanic Context of the Unferþ episode” Speculum 55. 444-468.

Shanzer, Danuta

2010        “The tale of Frodebert’s tail” in: Coloquial and Literary Latin, Eleanor Dickey et Anna Chahoud eds. 376-405.

Paliai, Valentina

2009      “The art of dueling with words: toward a new understanding of verbal duels across the world” Oral Tradition 24/1. 61-88.


[1] Largire instead of largiri

meeting the Goths

Gothic society and Greek hagiography

The late-antique Germanic tribe known as the Goths is of particular interest to Indo-Europeanists, since their language is attested in a fourth century bible translation that forms the first substantial attestation of an early Germanic language. Every student of Comparative Indo-European Linguistics in Leiden probably took the course “historical grammar of Gothic” or will do so at one time or another during his studies. Unfortunately only a really short introduction to Gothic culture is provided for the first year students. Therefore I want to discuss a major source for the culture of the fourth century Goths, the Goths in the time of Wulfila’s bible translation. This specific text is a hagiography, in this case a passio or μαρτύριον (this genre records the martyring of a saint or blessed person) written about a Goth called Saba, who was martyred during a persecution of the christian faith under the reign of Athanaricus (Gothic: Aþnareiks). However, before continuing with discussing this text I will provide the general linguists reading this article with a short introduction to who these Goths were and why they are awesome.

                Tacitus in his Germania  is one of the first classical writers to inform us of a tribe called the Gotones (Germ. 44: Trans Lugios Gotones regnantur), who lived on the Baltic shores and belonged to the Germanic sphere of influence. In the third century, people confederations, who probably in one way or another were related to the Gutones of the first century, had migrated south to central Europe were they laid waste to whatever part of the Roman limes that was ill defended, their first recorded incursion dating back to 278 CE. Living on the edge of the Roman Empire a substantial romanization of the Gothic military took place and in the course of the fourth century Arian Christianity reached the Gothic realms. In the second half of the fourth century, however, Altaic armies dominated by a people called “the Huns” poured into in East and Central Europe, pushing the Gothic confederations into Roman territory. In 370 CE the blue Danube river must have been filled with the white sails of thousands of ships when the Goths crossed the border. Maltreatment by Roman officials however, led to a Gothic revolt and the Goths went to war with the Romans once again. In 374 CE at Adrianople an Alano-Gothic army led by the warlords Fritigern (Gothic: Friþareiks), Alatheus (Gothic: Alaþewaz) and Saphrac (Alanic *saw-rag “black back”) brought about the utter destruction of the Roman army led by the Roman emperor Valens.

After the Roman defeat the Gothic peoples were on the move and wanted better lands and better guarantees that their people would be safe within Rome’s borders. A period of alternating between open warfare with Rome and fighting as Roman foederati, i.e. allies of Rome, ensued, eventually leading to the epic sack of Rome by king Alaric I in 410 AD, a story which would make a great Hollywood movie. A Gothic federation known as the Visigoths eventually moved to the south of France and Spain and founded a Visigothic kingdom there. Another Gothic federation known as the Ostrogoths conquered Italy in the late fifth century and established an Ostrogothic kingdom. The Ostrogothic king Theodericus (Gothic: Þiudareiks) became a figure of legend in the Early and High Middle Ages, being mentioned in Old English, Old High German, Middle High German, Middle Dutch and Old Icelandic literature. It is probably also at the court of Theoderic that the Codex Argenteus, the main manuscript containing the Gothic bible translations, was produced.

The text I want to discuss is called Μαρτύριον τοῦ ἁγίου Σάβα τοῦ Γότθου “the passion of St. Saba the Goth,” written in the late 4th c. CE. This text was written as letter by the Church in Gothia to Basil, the bishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia, when the Christian Goths sended the body of Saba to that province. They wanted to inform the Church of Cappadocia why this man was to be considered holy and how he died. The text is written in a literary and liturgical form, with numerous references to the Passion of st. Polycarp and the Greek New Testament. Saba was killed on a thursday, 12th of april, 372 CE, during the persecution of christians started by king Athanaric in 369 CE.

Why did Athanaric persecute the christians?  Probably because he wanted to strengthen the tribal religion and therewith the sacral bonds between the clans. We should note that allegiance and loyalty in Germanic society was dependent on sacral oaths, which were considered holy and had a religious dimension. Correct religion was therefore crucial to the adhesion of the confederation. Furthermore, Germanic kings played a crucial role in delegating the “grace” of the gods to their peoples, so guaranteeing proper worship was guaranteeing the prosperity of the people. Athanaric also wanted to get rid of Roman influence in Gothic society. We should not forget that the Christian church of the 4th c. CE was heavily entrenched in Roman society and Roman church leaders were important political agents. Since christian communities in Gothia were in direct contact with Roman church leaders, Athanaric and other Gothic leaders feared that the loyalty of these christians was to be suspected and that the christians might be more sympathetic to the Roman empire than to the Gothic authorities.

The Passion  is especially instructive as to how Gothic villages interacted with the Gothic supratribal authorities and how the persecutions were enacted on the microlevel. The passion distinguishes different phases of the persecution. Gothic nobles (μεγιστᾶνες) who visited the village of Saba went looking for christians and the villagers decided that the best way to prove there were no christians in their village was to let everyone eat sacrificial meat consecrated to the pagan gods. Saba’s fellow villagers are not too keen to have Saba get executed and go to considerable lengths to protect him, first in substituting the sacrificial meat with unconsecrated meat, later in swearing that there were no christians in the village (this is significant for perjury (*mainaiþaz) was a religious sin). But Saba, being the stubborn devote christian that he was, of course revealed himself in all occasions and insisted that they should persecute him. Too bad for Saba, even the Gothic nobles did not want to execute him and merely banished him from the village. But Saba’s obstinancy knew no bounds and, one way or another, he had to get martyred. So he returned to his village in order to celebrate Easter with a priest called Sansalas (Alanic name?) when a tribal leader called Atharidus (*Aþalrīdaz?), the son of king Rothesteus (*hrōþisþewaz?), was visiting. Saba got arrested and got tortured. Torturing plays a very important role in Passions so the hagiographer is very specific about it. Atharidus and his warrriors drive Saba naked through a thicket of burned bushes, beated him with flogs and scourges,  tied him to the axles of a wagon and broke his bones and to finish it up, they flogged him once again. At several moments Saba gets the change to eat from the sacrificial meat and end his plight, but of course he refuses. Eventually Atharidus’ warriors took him to the river Musaios (possibly the Buzaǔ) to drown him. But even these warriors do not want to kill him and decide to let him go. Saba refuses to be released and insist the warriors do their duty: “τί ματαιολογεῖτε καὶ οὐ ποιεῖτε τὸ προστεταγμένον ὑμῖν” (“why do you talk idlely and not do what you are told to!”) After a lot of begging, the warriors do their duty and drown him in the river, Saba finally having achieved the martyrdom he so desparately craved.

 Why is this text monument important? Because it is the only contemporary description of Gothic society before it got Romanized, for later descriptions of Gothic society come from 6th and 7th c.  Latinate texts, which are aimed at the elite. Detrimental to the historian’s wish to be informed about paganism in Gothic society, Early Medieval Latinate hagiographies often have no interest whatsoever in describing heathen rituals. The Passion of Saba, fortunately does describe the dinner ritual, although not in too much detail. It also indicates that Athanaric’s persecution does not only stem from political fears but may also come from genuine royal concern for the religion of the people. We hear one of the Gothic officials say to Saba when he refuses the meat: “ταῦτα Ἀθάριδος ἐκέλευσεν ὑμῖν κομισθῆναι, ἵνα φάγητε καὶ ῥύσησθε ἐκ θάνατου τὰς ψυχάς ὑμῶν” (“Atharidus ordered these things to be brought for you, so that you may eat and save your souls from death”) Another thing we should be grateful for is that the Passion clearly shows the hierarchy in Gothic society; the war leader Athanaric at the top has ordered the persecution and tribal chiefs like Atharidus and Rothesteus are responsable for enacting the persecution. They would send nobles (μεγιστᾶνες) to oversee the heathen ceremonies in the villages. To sum it up, the Passion of st. Saba the Goth is the most important source for Germanic society in late antiquity for it describes in considerable detail the persecution of christians in Gothic society at the microlevel of an agrarian village. These were the people who actually listened to Wulfila’s bible translation and spoke the Gothic that has come down to us.

Bibliography

 

Michael Kulikowski, Rome’s Gothic wars (Cambridge 2007)

E. A., Thompson, The visigoths in the time of Ulfila (Oxford 1966).

Peter J. Heather and John Matthews, The Goths of the fourth century (Liverpool 1991).

Delehaye, H., “Passio S. Sabae Gothi, in: Saints de Thrace et de Mésie, an. bol. 31 (1912)

Parisian Conversations

A linguist look into Carolingian everyday life

Introduction

The Parisian Conversations are probably the most enigmatic piece of Old High German literature that ever came down to us. What we have preserved in them is an actual and unique picture of the Carolingian day-to-day. Vernacular renderings of conversations in which people greet each other, laugh together and insult each other. The Parisian Conversation may have originated in a Early Medieval travelguide of sorts intended for Romance speaking clergymen traveling to the Franconian speaking east. It is almost as if we can see the people who uttered these sentences a thousand years ago standing on some withered Roman road, the cobble stones green with moss for the lack of maintenance, a hot wind blowing through the trees and the reed roofs of large farmhouses laying hazily in the background. A historian’s dream come true!

Strangely, however, the importance of the Parisian conversations is mostly overlooked by historians of Carolingian culture (even nowadays). Their linguistic and philological value on the other hand have been acknowledged by Old Germanicists from the nineteenth century onwards. The glosses were written down by a Romance speaking clerc, who learned Old High German as a second language and possibly heard the sentences somewhere during his travels. The “Latin” sentences that the Old High German was supposed to gloss can hardly be called Latin anymore, and is better understood as colloquial Proto-Romance. A good reminder to the historian that the clergymen writing our manuscripts did not “live” in a Latin world, they lived in a vernacular world and spoke to eachother using the Romance or the Germanic vernacular.

The sentences are concatenations of spoken language heavily influenced by the way the Romance scribe pronounced Old High German, naturally with Romance dialect features. The copyist who subsequently copied the text into the manuscript that we nowadays posses probably didn’t know any Old High German and corrupted parts of the text by making transcription errors and wrong word divisions. But still, the fact that we have an actual specimen of original non-poetic spoken Old High German makes the Parisian conversations a very valuable text for linguists.

 But not only the specialized linguist or philologist will enjoy the content of the Parisian Conversations. The vulgar and bawdy nature of quite some parts of the text make for a good laugh and a fun read. It seems very likely that some conversations were only written down for their humorous nature in the first place. In this article I want to present you a scandalous collection of sentences from the Parisian Conversations, which may together constitute a somewhat coherent converstation. I will give you the Old High German gloss, a tentative Old High German reconstruction of what the author of the text actually wanted to transcribe and the Latin translation. Finally I will give a modern rendering of the conversation as it might have looked. I will, however, not give a linguistic analysis, for that would make a whole article on itself.

Manuscript

 

The Parisian Conversations are preserved in the margins of a ninth century manuscript[1] that originated in the south of France, possibly the monastery st. Marcel at Châlons-sur-Sâone. The Parisian Conversations are copied from an older source that might be connected to the area of Sens, possibly the area where the text originated. The text is written in a dialect of Old High German which has some peculiar idiosyncracies. This has led some scholars to believe that it actually represents a dialect of Franconian spoken in the north of France, an elite Frankish sociolect surrounded by Romance speakers. Most of the idiosyncracies however can be explained as orthographical alternations and pronunciation difficulties common to the Romance speaking scribe. Please note that the Romance-Latin glosses are just as interesting to the linguist as the Old High German, for the language used there can hardly be called “Latin” anymore and truly ressembles colloquial Proto-Romance.

  Romance-Latin Old High German as glossed Reconstructed “Old High German”
83 Quot vices fottisti guanna sarden ger wanne sarden ger?
84   terue naste truwa, ne wist ech!
60 quare non fuisti ad matutinas? quandi nae guarin ger za metin wande ne waren[2] ger[3] zu metin?
61 ego nolui En valde ech[4] ne wolde!
62 tu iacuisti ad feminam in tuo lecto? ger ensclephen bitte uip in ore bette ger insliefun bit demu wif in (i)uwer bettin?
63 si sciuerit hoc senior tuus iratus erit tibi per meum caput! guez or erre az pe de semauda ger enscelphen pe dez uip so es terue u rebolgan wez (i)uwer herra daz, bi desemu (mīn)[5] hauƀda, ger insliefun so ist truwa (i)u irbolgan
64 quid dicitis vos? guaz queten ger, erra[6] waz queden ger?
65 Ausculta[7] fol[8]! coorestu, narra gahoristu, narra!
66 uelles corium de tuo equo habere in collo tuo? gualdestu abe (de)[9] tinen rose ter uht ze ine ruge? woldost du haben dīnen (h)rossen der hūt[10] zu dīnemo ruggi?
67 Stultus uolentarie fottit! narra, er sarda gerra narra, er sard gērno

Text

I place the last two sentences which were numbered 83 and 84 in Wilhelm Braune’s edition in the same context as the conversation. I do this because sentences 83 and 84 were written on the upper margin of the manuscript page and the text seems to continue in the right margin of the page, therefore 83 and 84 seem to be followed by sentence 60 in Braune’s way of counting. The fact that 83-84 and 60-67 share a rather scandalous nature combined with the possibility that they may have followed eachother up in the original text, brings me to put the two sets of sentences together, for that may be how the text was originally intended.

                I interpret the lines as representing a verbal jousting amongst friends. The inquiry as to why one of the speakers wasn’t present at matins does not sound like something you would ask a stranger. The use of the politeness form in the second plural is used as part of their verbal game.[11] The rudeness of the retort seems to confirm this interpretation. Sentence 66 is best interpreted as referring to a physical beating by a riding whip. Sentences 83 and 84 use the word sarden which is cognate to Old Icelandic serða, which meant “unconventional intercourse”. The Latin translation fottire is the Romance continuation of Classical Latin futuere and seems to have a quite general meaning.

Reconstructed conversation

In my reconstruction of the text I will name the speakers Ruodlieb and Walthar, after the protagonists of the two most important secular poems that were written down in Carolingian times.

Ruodlieb:              How many times did you have sex?

Walthar:               Truly, I dont know!

Ruodlieb:              Why weren’t you there at matins?

Walthar:               I did not want to go!

Ruodlieb:              Did you sleep with a woman in your bed?

                               If your lord finds out that you slept, by my head, he will be so angry!

Walthar:               What did you say?

Ruodlieb:              Listen, fool!

Walthar:               Do you want to feel the skin of your horse on your back!?!

Ruodlieb:              Fool, he likes having sex (too much)!

Bibliography

Wolfgang Haubrichs et Max Pfister eds., „In Fracia Fui; Studien zu den romanisch-germanischen Interferenzen und zur Grundsprache der althochdeutschen ‚Pariser (Altdeutschen) Gespräche“, Abhandlungen der geistes- und sozialwissenschaftlichen Klasse 1989, 6 (Mainz 1989).

Braune, Wilhelm, Althochdeutsches Lesebuch (17th edition 1994 Tübbingen; 1875).

Wilhelm Braune, Althochdeutsche Grammatik (Tübingen 2004).


[1] the fragments of which are to be found in Cod.Vat.Reg.Lat. 566 and Cod.Paris.B.N.lat.764

[2] the indicative  2.pl. in /-en/ is enigmatic and looks like a dialect feature of this specific Frankish dialect

[3] it may be that ger instead of expected gi or gir is also a dialect feature of this dialect, another possibility is that is merely the Romance confusion of /i/ and /e/.

[4] See last note, ech instead of ich.

[5] I put this mīn here because it warranted by the Latin translation and to make it fall in line with similar colloquial expessions in the Middle Germanic languages and early modern English.

[6] this erra is not translated in the Latin gloss and it looks like it is quite out of place.

[7] This word is naturally the Romance word for “to listen” continued in Fr écouter, It ascoltare, Sp escuchar

[8] note here the ancestor of modern English fool!

[9] this de looks like an erroneous placement of the de in the Latin translation

[10] litterally; the skin of your horse

[11 a parallel would be the use of the politeness forms in the plays of Shakespeare