Category: Latin (Lingua Latina)

Neo-eisimeileachd / Unthirldom / Independence

By Simon

As there’s an independence referendum in Scotland today I thought I’d look at a few relevant words in Scottish Gaelic and Scots:

Gàidhlig (Scottish Gaelic) Scots English
reifreann [rʲɛfərʲɛn̪ˠ] referendum referendum
rneo-eisimeileachd [n̪ˠʲɔ eʃɪmələxg] unthirldom independence
neo-eisimeileach [n̪ˠʲɔ eʃɪmələx] unthirlit independent
bhòt [voʰt̪] vote vote

Etymologies
– neo-eisimeileachd: from neo- (un-), from Irish neamh-/neimh-, from Middle Irish nem, from Old Irish neb-, neph-; and eisimeil (dependence, obligation), from Middle Irish esimol [source]

– referendum: from the Latin referendum (“that which must be referred” or lit. “thing brought back”), from referre (to bring or take back), from re- (back) and ferre (carry) [source].

– independent: from in- (not, opposite of) and dependent, from French indépendant, from dépendant, the present participle of dépendre (to hang down; to depend), from Latin dependentem, from dēpendēo (to hang down/from; to depend on) from pēndēre (to droop, to hang (from), to slope, to slant) [source]

– vote: from Latin vōtum (promise, dedication, vow; determination, will, desire; prayer), a form of voveō (I vow/promise; dedicate/devote to a deity; I wish/desire.), from Proto-Indo-European *h₁wogʷʰ-. [source]

Independence in Scots is either independence or unthirldom, a word I found on Spawk. It also appears on Wikipedia, along with unthirlt (independent) in the sentence:

“Scots unthirldom is the poleetical muivement that thinks Scotland shoud poleetical sinder itsel frae the Unitit Kinrick, an become an unthirlt kintra wi ane govrenment an a sovereign pairlament.”

(Scottish independence is the political movement that thinks Scotland should politically separate itself from the United Kingdom, and become an independent country with its own government and a sovereign parliament.)

– unthirldom and unthirlit come from unthirl = land outside the Sucken* or Thirl** of a particular mill; the dues paid to a mill for the grinding of corn grown on land not restricted to it [source]

– unthirlit also means not enslaved or subjugated (to another)

* Sucken [′sʌkən] = the lands of an estate on which there was an obligation to grind corn at a certain mill, or the totality of the tenants of such lands [source]

** Thirl [θɪrl] = To lay under a certain obligation or restriction, specifically in Scots Law: to bind the lands of an estate or their tenants by the terms of lease to have the grain produced on the lands ground at a certain mill, to astrict the grinding of corn [source].

Interesting!

By Simon

The word interesting can have a variety of meanings, depending on how you say it and the context in which you use it. At least it does in British English.

The basic definition is “inspiring interest; absorbing” [source]. It comes from the noun interest (legal claim or right; concern; benefit, advantage), from the Anglo-French interesse (what one has a legal concern in), from the Medieval Latin interesse (compensation for loss), from the Latin verb interresse (to concern, make a difference, be of importance, or literally “to be between”), from inter- (between) and esse (to be) [source].

If you are asked your opinion on something, such as a film, play, concert, etc, that you didn’t like or enjoy, you might, if you’re British and don’t want to be negative, describe it as “interesting” and maybe praise an aspect of it that did appeal to you. Maybe you liked the costumes, the venue, the lighting, or whatever. You could also use this description for a person, place, thing or other event. This could be taken at face value, or as indirect criticism, if you read between the lines – damning with faint praise. This shouldn’t be confused with typical British understatement.

Other words you might use to describe something you didn’t like or enjoy include different, challenging and unusual. Do you have any others?

Is interesting used in this way in other varieties of English? How are equivalent words used in other languages?

Blackberries and Walls

By Simon

The French words mur (wall) mûr (ripe; mature) and mûre (blackberry; mulberry) are written differently but pronounced the same – [myʁ], so are only distinguished by context in speech.

The word mur (wall) comes from the Latin mūrus (wall), from the Old Latin *moerus/*moiros, from the Proto-Indo-European *mei (to fix, to build fortifications or fences) [source].

The word mûr (ripe; mature) comes from the Latin mātūrus (mature; ripe; early), from the Proto-Indo-European root *meh₂- (to ripen, to mature) [source].

The word mûre (blackberry; mulberry) comes from the Vulgar Latin mora (mulberry), from the Latin mōrum (mulberry) from the Ancient Greek μόρον (móron – mulberry; blackberry) from the Proto-Indo-European *moro (mulberry; blackberry). [source].

One Welsh word for wall, mur [mɨ̞r/mɪr], comes from the same root as the French word mur, probably via Norman or Latin. Another word for wall in Welsh is wal, which was probably borrowed from English. The word pared is used for interior walls, though only in literary Welsh. This probably comes from the Latin pariēs (wall) from the Proto-Indo-European *sparri (wall), which is also the root of the Spanish word pared (wall), the Portuguese parede (wall), and similar words in other Romance languages [source].

The word wall comes from the Old English weall (wall, dike, earthwork, rampart, dam, rocky shore, cliff), from the Proto-Germanic *wallaz/*wallą (wall, rampart, entrenchment), from the Latin vallum (wall, rampart, entrenchment, palisade), from the Proto-Indo-European *wel- (to turn, wind, roll) [source].

When is a language not a language?

By Simon

One perennial problem in linguistics is how to decide whether a language is a language or dialect. In the fascinating book, Speak: A Short History of Languages, which I read recently, Tore Janson argues that a language can be considered a language when those who speak it decide that it is one, and they give it a name. This often happens when a language acquires a standard written form, and/or becomes the language of a state of other political entity.

He gives the example of Italian in the Chapter Did Dante Write in Italian?: Dante is said to be one of the first authors to write in Italian rather than Latin, however he didn’t see Latin and Italian as separate languages, but just different forms of the same language. Dante refers to Classical Latin as Grammatica (Grammar), the colloquial language of Italy as Latium vulgare (popular/vulgar Latin), and he calls the language he wrote in Latino (Latin). Italian only started to be called italiano or lingua italiana not long after Dante’s death.

Janson gives the another example of the Khoisan languages of South Africa, which have many different names. Speakers of these languages, when asked, might use the name of their area, tribe or some other name for their language – but generally don’t have a particular name for their form of speech. Several hundred names have been collected by linguists, and as a result nobody is quite sure how many Khoisan languages there are and how they are related to one another. None of these languages have a standard written form, and speakers rarely, if ever, write them.

Waulking and Walking

By Simon

My Gaelic Song course is going well and I’m really enjoying it. There are thirteen of us in the class – most are from Scotland or of Scottish origin, and there are also a few from other countries like the USA and Germany. Some speak Gaelic well, others know a bit, and those without any Gaelic are finding the pronunciation somewhat tricky.

One type of song we’ve learnt is the waulking song. The word waulking refers to the practise of fulling or milling tweed cloth, or pounding the cloth against a board with the hands or trampling it with the feet in order to shrink it and make it water proof. In Scotland, and among Scottish settlers in Nova Scotia, waulking was accompanied by rhythmic songs known as waulking songs (òrain luaidh) which helped people to coordinate their work. Traditionally it was women who did this work – men also did it in Nova Scotia – and one person would sing verses, and everybody who sing the vocables – nonsense syllables that fit the tune. The verses were often improvised.

There are some examples of waulking songs in the songs section of Omniglot.

The word waulking comes from the Old English word wealcan (to roll, toss); from the Proto-Germanic *walkaną (to twist, turn, move); from the Proto-Indo-European *wolg- < *wel- (to bend, twist, run, roll), which is also the root of walk, and of the Latin word valgus (bent, bow-legged).

Cruite, cláirseacha a chrythau

By Simon

Cláirseach / Clàrsach / Claasagh / Telyn / Telenn, & Crwth

I discovered last week in Ireland that one word for the harp in Irish is cruit [krutʲ], which sounds similar to the Welsh word crwth [kruːθ], a type of bowed lyre that was once popular in Wales and in other parts of Europe, but which was largely displayed by the fiddle during the 18th century.

The word crwth from a Proto-Celtic word *krotto- (round object) and refers to a swelling or bulging out, of pregnant appearance, or a protuberance. The Irish word cruit comes from the same root and refers to small harps or lyres. The equivalent English word, which was borrowed from Welsh is crowd, which is also written crwd, crout or crouth, and in Medieval Latin such an instrument was called a chorus or crotta. The English surnames Crowder and Crowther, which mean a crowd player, and the Scottish names MacWhirter and MacWhorter also come from the same root [source].

The more common word for harp in Irish is cláirseach. In Scottish Gaelic the words cruit and clàrsach are used, with the latter being the most common, and in Manx we have claasagh and cruitçh. The Welsh word for harp is telyn, which has an equivalent in Manx – tellyn (Welsh harp). The Cornish word for harp is the same as the Welsh, and the Breton word is telenn.

Gabions and the importance of names

By Simon

Gabions

The other day I discovered that the name for those wire cages filled with rocks used in construction and to stabilise river banks, hillsides and shorelines are called gabions. The word comes from the Italian gabbione (big cage), which comes from the Latin cavea (cage).

There are plenty of gabions around here, but I didn’t know what to call them before, apart from wire baskets filled with rocks and stones, or something similar. I find that knowing the name of something makes it so much easier to talk about it – would you agree?

For example, if you go for a walk in the country and want to point out particular flora and fauna that you see, or want to describe what you saw afterwards, it helps if you know the names of things. So instead of saying that you saw some trees, flowers and birds, you might say that you saw oak, beech and ash trees; dandelions, old man’s trousers and buttercups, and so on. Some people, like my mum, could probably give you the Latin names of some of the flora as well.

Knowing the names of things, in your native language, and in other languages you know, enriches your world and enables you to talk about a variety of things without having to resort to paraphrases and long descriptions. The common names of flora and fauna can be interesting and poetic even – for example, the Irish name for fuschia is deaora dé (“God’s tears”). I learnt this word first in Irish, then found out what the plant is called in English.

I’m quite good at the names of birds and animals in English, Welsh, French and Irish, but not so good at plants and trees, which I’m working on.

Novi Sad

By Simon

Novi Sad / Нови Сад

As I’m going to the Polyglot Conference in Novi Sad (Нови Сад) [nôʋiː sâːd] in October, I thought I should find out what Novi Sad actually means – it’s the kind of thing I like to know. I guessed that Novi probably means new, but had no idea what Sad might mean.

According to this dictionary, нови means new and сад means ‘plantation’.

Wikipedia translates the name as ‘New Garden’, and gives versions of the name in a number of languages used in local administration:

– Serbian: Нови Сад, Novi Sad
– Hungarian: Újvidék (‘new territory/region/land’)
– Slovak: Nový Sad
– Rusyn: Нови Сад (Novi Sad)

In Latin it’s known as Neoplanta, and as Novi Sad in Croatian and Romanian.

The word сад / sad comes from the Proto-Slavic *saditi (to plant), and means vessel, container or dish in Macedonian; garden, orchard or park in Russian and Ukrainian; orchard in Czech and Polish; fruit in Lower Sorbian; and garden, orchard or plantation in Slovak.

Sources: http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/сад and http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/sad

Curing, cleaning and caring

By Simon

Yesterday I discovered that there are quite a few different French translations of the verb to cure, depending on what kind of cure you’re talking about.

If you’re curing food by salting, the French equivalent is saler (to salt); curing by smoking is fumer (to smoke), and curing by drying is sécher (to dry). Curing leather is traiter (to treat), and curing illnesses, problems or habits is guérir (to cure, heal, recover).

The equivalents of these words in Welsh are:

– halltu = to cure (by salting)
– cochi (“to redden”); sychu mewn mwg; sychu trwy fwg = to cure (by smoking)
– sychu = to cure (by drying)
– cyweirio; barcio; cwrio = to cure (leather)
– gwella; iach’au; mendio = to cure (illness, problem, habit)

Do other languages have separate words for these?

The English word cure comes from the French curer, which means ‘to clean out’ in Modern French, and meant ‘to take care of, to clean’ in Old French, and comes from the Latin cūrāre (to care for, take care of, cure), from cūra (care, concern, trouble), from the Old Latin coira-, from the Proto-Indo-European root *kʷeis- (to heed).

Sources: Reverso, OED, Online Etymology Dictionary, Wiktionary

Market places

By Simon

Last week the origins of the word agora came up in conversation and I thought I’d find out more.

An agora was a place of gathering or marketplace in Ancient Greece. It comes from the Ancient Greek ἀγείρω [ageirō] (I gather, collect), from the Proto-Indo-European *ger- (to assemble, gather together), which is the root of the English words gregarious, aggregate, congregate, egregious, segregate, allegory, category, and panegyric, via the Latin gregārius (of the herd, common), which comes from grex (herd, flock).

In Romance languages, such as Aragonese, Asuturian, Galician, Ladino, Mirandese and Portuguese, the word agora is also found, but it means ‘now’ and comes from the Latin expression hāc hōra (‘this hour’). The Spanish word ahora (now) comes from the same root. hōra comes from the Ancient Greek ὥρα [hōra] (time, season, year), from the Proto-Indo-European *yōr-ā, a suffixed form of *yēr/*yeh₁r- (year, season), which is the root of the English word year, and the words for year in many other Indo-European languages.

Source: Wiktionary

The friend who asked about agora wondered whether the Welsh word agor (open) might come from the same root. I haven’t been able to find any information about this. Does anybody know?