Possession

In the Celtic languages when you want to say that you have/own/possess something, you say that the thing is at/by/with you, often with the prepositions merging with the pronouns.

For example, this is how to say ‘I have a book’ in those languages:

– Irish: Tá leabhar agam [lit. “is book at-me]
– Scottish Gaelic: Tha leabhar agam [lit. “is book at-me]
– Manx: Ta lioar aym [lit. “is book at-me]
– Breton: Ur Ul levr a zo ganin [lit. “a book is with-me”]
– Cornish: Yma lyver dhymm [lit. “here is book to-me”]
– Welsh (North): Mae gen i lyfr (North Wales) [lit. “is with me book”]
– Welsh (South): Mae llyfr (gy)da fi [lit. “is book with me”]
– Welsh (literary): Mae gynnaf llyfr [lit. “is with-me book”]

This kind of structure occurs in a number of other languages that don’t have the equivalent of the verb ‘to have’. Russian, for example, uses a similar construction to show possession:

– У меня есть книга (U menja est’ kniga) = I have a book [lit. “by/at me there is book”].

Do you know of any other languages that use this type of stucture?

Komz a rez brezhoneg? / Wyt ti’n siarad Llydaweg?

I decided to have a go at learning Breton today and listened to some of Le Breton sans peine. I just listened without looking at the book to see if I could understand anything – one of my friends is convinced that Breton has more similarities with Welsh than with Cornish, but I thought that Breton is closer to Cornish, so I decided to test this.

I speak Welsh more or less fluently, and do know a few Breton words already, including degemer mat (welcome), trugarez (thank you = trugaredd, ‘mercy / compassion’, in Welsh), pelc’h emañ …? (where is …? = pa le, ‘which place?’, in Welsh), and I was able to guess the means of some words that sound similar to their Welsh equivalents: mor (sea – môr in Welsh), ti (house – in Welsh), glas (blue/green – glas in Welsh). I could also understand some of the numbers and some French loanwords, apart from that though, I had no idea, or only the vaguest idea, what they were talking about most of the time.

This is just my own impression, but it seems that mutual intelligibility between Welsh and Breton is very limited. The stories of Breton onion sellers in Wales being able to talk to the local Welsh speakers in Breton and be understood are perhaps exaggerated. Or perhaps the onion sellers, known as Sioni Wynwns (Johnny Onions) in Welsh, learnt enough Welsh to have basic conversations with Welsh speakers.

While I was in the Isle of Man earlier this year I heard some Cornish and was able to make some sense of it, but the Breton I heard there made very little sense to me.

Panceltic concert

Last night I went to a great concert in St John’s (Balley Keeill Eoin) at which all the modern Celtic languages were sung and/or spoken, as well as English and French. It was wonderful to hear them all, and I even understood odd bits of the Cornish and Breton, the only Celtic languages I haven’t got round to studying yet.

I think it was the first time I’ve heard Breton spoken and sung live – I have heard recordings before though. I thought that it sounds kind of similar to French, but when you listen closely you realise that it isn’t French at all.

I spoke to various people in Manx, English, Welsh, French and a bit of Irish, and joined in with songs in Manx and Scottish Gaelic at the session in Peel (Purt ny hInshey) after the concert.

An Irish group called Guidewires will be playing in Peel tonight, supported by a Manx group called Scammylt, and before that there’s a talk on Welsh poetry by Mererid Hopwood.

Tomorrow I’m off to Gleann Cholm Cille in Donegal for a week of Irish language and music at Oideas Gael’s Irish Language and Culture Summer School.

Come-all-ye

Last night I went to a fascinating talk by Cass Meurig about the history of the crwth (a type of medieval bowed lyre) and its place in Welsh music and tradition, which included songs in Welsh.

After the talk there was a very enjoyable ‘Come-all-ye’ singing session lead by Clare Kilgallon and members of Cliogaree Twoaie (‘Northern Croakers’), a Ramsey-based choir who sing in Manx and English. There were songs in Manx, English, Welsh and Cornish, and I did a Scots lullaby (Hush, Hush, Time to be sleeping).

I think the phrase ‘come-all-ye’ refers to the type of songs known as “Come all ye’s”, which tend to begin with “Come all ye (sons of liberty/ good people/ tramps and hawkers etc) and listen to my song”. That’s according to Dick Gougan anyway. We didn’t actually sing any such songs last night though.

Yn Chruinnaght

At the moment I’m in the Isle of Man for Yn Chruinnaght (‘the gathering’), the Manx National and Inter-Celtic Festival. Yesterday I heard some Scottish Gaelic and odd bits of Manx at a fantastic concert featuring Capercaille and a bunch of local musicians (David Kilgallon and Some Thoroughly Nice Folk), and expect to hear all the other Celtic languages while I’m here as performers and visitors from all the Celtic lands are here for the festival.

The word cruinnaght means ‘assembly, function, gathering, event’ and is used in such expressions as:

– cruinnaght skeerey – parish gathering
– Cruinnaght Vanninagh Ashoonagh – Manx National Assembly
– cruinnaght-vooar – mass meeting

In case you’re wondering, cruinnaght acquires an extra h after yn (the) because it’s feminine and the initial letters of feminine nouns usually mutate after the definite article, in the singular at least. This is a peculiarity shared by all the Celtic languages.

The verb form of cruinnaght is cruinnaghey, which means ‘to gather, huddle, troop, enclose, beseige, raise, round, head, screw up, sum up, focus’.

Source: Online Manx Dictionary

Jumpers and sea pigs

Llamhidydd / Porpoise / Mereswine

Llamhidydd, (n/m) [pl. llamhidyddion] – porpoise, dancer, acrobat, jumper

Today’s word appears in a book I’m reading at the moment and is a new one to me. I’m not sure about the etymology of the hid part, but llam means jump, and the suffix -ydd indicates a person or agent.

As well as jump, llam also means fate, leap, bound, stride, step, and is found in such words as llamddelw – puppet (jump + image/idol); llamu and llamsach – to jump; llawsachus – capering, prancing, and llamwr – leaper. Llam most likely comes from the same root as the Irish léim, Scottish Gaelic leum, Manx lheim, Cornish lamma and Breton lam. More common Welsh words for jump and to jump are naid and neidio.

Other Welsh words for porpoise include môr-fochyn (sea pig) and morhwch (sea sow), which is also applied to dolphins. The Irish for porpose is muc mhara (sea pig).

The English word porpoise comes from the French pourpois, which is from Medieval Latin porcopiscus, which is a compound of porcus (pig) and piscus (fish).

Another English word for porpoise is apparently mereswine, the roots of which can be traced back to the Proto-Germanic *mariswīnaz (dolphin, porpoise), from *mari/*mariz (sea) and *swīnaz/*swīnan (swine, pig), via the Middle English mereswin and the Old English mereswīn.

Bœuf

One thing we were discussing last week at the French conversation group was words for animals and their meat. In French the words for meat are also used for the animals: bœuf means beef and ox, porc means pork and pig, mouton means mutton and sheep, while in English there are different words for these things.

The popular explanation for the different English words for the animals and their meat is that after the Norman invasion of Britain in 1066, the animals were reared by the English, who called them , pecges and scéapes (cows, pigs and sheep) and eaten by the Normans, who called them boef, porc and motun (beef, pork and mutton). However the distinction between the names for the meat and the animals didn’t become set until the 18th century, and mutton and beef were used to refer to sheep and cows for many centuries after the Norman Conquest.

Bœuf comes from the Latin bos (ox, cow), the reconstructed Proto-Indo-European (PIE) root of which is gwóu (cow). This is also the root of vache, the French word for cow, via the Latin vacca (cow), and of the English word cow, via the Old English (pl. ) and the reconstructed Proto-Germanic word kwom. In fact many of the words for cow, bull or cattle in Indo-European languages probably come from the PIE root gwóu. Examples include: (Irish and Scottish Gaelic), booa (Manx), buwch (Welsh), bugh (Cornish), buoc’h (Breton), govs (Latvian), կով (kov) (Armenian), گاو (gav – Persian) and Kuh (German).

As well as ox or steer and beef, bœuf also means (a) surprising; unusual; (b) stupid (in Swiss French); (c) (musical) jam session / jazz improvisation.

Idioms containing bœuf include:

  • avoir un boeuf sur la langue (to have a cow on the tongue) = to keep quiet; not give anything away
  • boeuf carottes (beef carrots) = internal affairs (Police)
  • comme un boeuf (as an ox) = very strong
  • gagner son boeuf (to earn one’s beef) = to earn a living
  • on n’est pas des boeufs (we are not cattle) = a little consideration and respect, I beg you

Meanings of mouton include: (a) sheep; (b) mutton; (c) sheep / lamb (someone easily led); (d) stool pigeon / grass; (e) moutons = white horses (on waves) / fluff / fluffy or fleecy clouds. Mutton and mouton possibly come from the Gaulish multo (ram) via the Middle Latin multonem and the Old French moton (ram, wether, sheep).

Idioms containing mouton include:

  • mouton à cinq pattes (a sheep with five feet) = white elephant rara avis / rare bird (something difficult or impossible to find)
  • revenir à ses moutons (to return to one’s sheep) = to return to the thread / subject of one’s discourse
  • suivre comme un mouton (to follow like a sheep) = to act like everyone else; gregarious

Sources
http://www.anglo-norman.net/
http://www.ceantar.org/Dicts/MB2/mb04.html
http://www.indo-european.nl/
http://www.le-dictionnaire.com/
http://www.etymonline.com/
http://indoeuro.bizland.com/project/phonetics/word28.html

Eastáit na Sí

Eastáit na Sí

An interesting Irish expression I came across recently is Eastáit na Sí (“Fairy Estates”), which are known as Ghost Estates in English. These are housing estates full of empty houses that nobody can afford thanks to the disappearance of the Celtic Tiger.

The Irish version refers to the (fairies or little people) from Irish folklore. The writer of the article suggests a solution to this problem – making the empty estates into new Gaeltachtaí [source].

The old spelling of is sídhe; in Old Irish it’s síde; in Scottish Gaelic it’s sìth, and in Manx it’s shee, and the English word banshee comes from the Irish bean sí (fairy woman).

The fairy folk are often referred to be other names and it is consider unlucky to call them fairies. Instead they might be known as wee folk, good folk, people of peace, fair folk, good neighbours or little people in English. In Welsh they’re known as the tylwyth teg (fair tribe), in Manx they’re the mooinjer veggey (little people), and in Cornwall they’re known as piskies or the pobel vean (little people).

The word fairy comes from the Late Latin fata (one of the Fates) via the Old French faerie, which means the land, realm, or characteristic activity (i.e. enchantment) of the people of folklore called faie or fee [source].

Lá Fhéile Pádraig Shona Daoibh / Happy St Patrick’s Day!

Tonnmharcaíocht

An interesting word I heard yesterday on Raidió na Gaeltachta was tonnmharcaíocht or surfing – literally “wave riding”. I hadn’t heard it before, but was able to work out the meaning from its component words. Another word for this kind of surfing is tonnscinneadh (wave glancing / skimming). Surfing the internet is scimeáil ar an Idirlíon, and sciméail also means to skim (milk).

Words related to marcaíocht (riding, to ride / drive / lift), include marcach (rider / horseman), marcaigh (to ride) and marcshlua (cavalry). The root of these is marc, the Old Irish word for horse, which is related to the Welsh march, the Cornish margh, and the Breton marc’h, all of which mean stallion.

The words for mare in Old High German (marah), Norse (marr), and Anglo-Saxon (mearh) as well as the English words mare and marshal are also related and can be traced back to the Proto-Indo-European *mark (horse).