ps and qs

the p- q- split: how the gorgons lost their ghiks, i mean how the bourbons lost their lips.                                3500 words

the history of the gorgons is recorded by homer in ionic greek, but homer was clearly translating from much older material from many sources, and analysis shows that much of it was celtic.  gorgon is a k-form of bourbon, which places them with a high probability in what is now france, and that suggests that the gorgons were gaulish.  there’s a fair bit of linguistic evidence for this and a lot more evidence from the homeric texts and from place names and personal names some of which are still in use.

‘the p- k- split’, i call it, though mainstream historical linguists talk of a division within the celtic language group into p-celtic and q-celtic. i prefer to talk of a p- k- split for four reasons:

  1. no celtic language currently uses the letter q for the sound k and anyway, q represents or originally represented the combination of the letters k and u, denoting a corresponding combinations of sounds – followed by a vowel it becomes kw.  look closely at the q.  it is formed from a c (although we now often close the c into an o, having forgotten its origin) and a subscript u minus its upward stroke.  sometimes this cursive u without its upstroke is flattened into a gentle sine wave and superimposed, but you can still readily see where it has come from. the k sound that distinguishes one of the main celtic language families from the other is not specifically the kw combination properly denoted by the letter q.
  2. the terms p-celtic and q-celtic don’t well differentiate between the two language groups anyway.  any list of frequently used words from any of the so called p-celtic or q-celtic contains about equal numbers of p-forms and k-forms, and you often find both k- and p- forms of the same word – bearr (shave) and gearr (cut) in irish for example.  the p-form irish bean (woman) appears as the k-forms guin as in guin-evere in britain or as gwen as in gwen-hwyfar in welsh, and as jen as in jen-ifer in cornish. the cornish kernow (cornwall), kewsel (speak(ing)) skol (school) kres (centre, peace) are k-forms, and yet despite clear evidence that neither k forms nor p forms were preferred or avoided, cornish is called a p-celtic language.  the two groups are distinguished much more realistically by other criteria. 
  3. the split is not by any means confined to the language group we now call celtic.  it permeates european languages.  it affects sanskrit.  i see it in australian aboriginal languages.  and it you take even a quick look at cherokee, there you have an example of a true k- type language.  it as no p or b, (and no r either in surviving dialects!).  in english we have both ‘colleges’ and ‘palaces’, both ‘priest’ and ‘christ’.  our ‘call’ is also ‘appeal’, and in french it appears/occurs as ‘appeller‘ to call or to name. the cherokee language is almost a pure k- language. most of its words other than those it has borrowed can be pronounced without moving the lips or using the tongue tip.  i have not yet encountered any language which has p sounds but not k sounds, and would be interested to hear of any.
  4. the k- split tends to complicate itself by a further splitting into k- and s- forms (and there are other divisions equally interesting).  in english, which preserves a great many more celtic traits than some scholars seem to allow, k-forms can be pronounced as a k or as an s:  candle, cinder, call, ceiling for example, and this can become optional when celtic-derived words, even the word celtic (pronounced either ‘keltic’ or ‘seltic’) itself, are concerned, or else two or more forms of the one word may occur, one spelt with a c and another with an s: colchester/silchester, for example, or kells and (a monk’s) cell. when you talk of a p- k- division rather than a p- k- or p- q- division, the ambiguity of the k- points you helpfully in the direction of this further major division in the languages and several others which become apparent as the work continues.    

and now, let’s look at some possibilities concerning the origin of the p- k- split as discernible in the tale of the gorgon. as i say, this story comes to us from the greek,  but there’s no guarantee that all or indeed any of the action took place anywhere near greece, as all kinds of people came and went, invaded, intermarried with and were known to the ancient greeks and those who told the stories that homer preserved seem to have been rather a cosmopolitan, sea-faring people of diverse cultures and customs. furthermore they bought and read each others books and presented them, sometimes in translation, as gifts to each other. wherever they went as migrants or brides or new colonies, they took their books with them.  homer observed that about 150 different languages contributed to the bronze age culture whose legends his poems preserve, and the closer you look, the less likely it is that they were all contained within the perimeters of the lands we now call greece.  by homer’s time they already had the p- k- split and you can read about it if you haven’t already  in the article “minding our bronze age ps and qs: apollo = achilles”, also on this website. 

but it’s the gorgons who interest us here. it’s necessary to understand that the world then was not as it is currently depicted. the major features of the civilisations of the past that are discerned or imagined by today’s historians either did not exist or were not discerned by the ancients.  the sharply distinct cultural groups that today’s historians are still looking for didn’t exist as they do today. there were numerous ethnic groups but these were shading into a continuum all over europe and south and east of the mediterraneanand so were their languages.  and in addition to this the pre-renaissance tower civilisation was forever mixing them, educating their elites, sending them soldiering or marrying or colonising in far distant countries and sending off individuals to seek their fortunes, be bound apprentice, or be fostered in some remote part of the world.  there were pedlars and beggars and many nomads – whole nations of nomads. have done, please!!!! with tribes.  they were not often tribal. clans do not resemble tribes. even the distinction between celts and others has ceased to be useful. originally the celts comprised the elite of all nations, recruited in early childhood and given a cosmopolitan education that made them literate, chivalrous, economically and politically aware, well-armed, well-travelled, wealthy and regarded with awe. towards the end, racism divided them and their dark-skinned descendents (moors and jews for example) were driven out, leaving the fair-skinned peoples we now think of as celtic. this was fairly recent, not more than a thousand years ago, maybe much less. (stay tuned.)

try to see also the commerce, trade and politics. this is an ancient polyglot world of international trade routes, networking among far-flung cities and colonies separated by vast tracts of woodland and wilderness, from continent to continent and across oceans. powerful emperors who manage emirates which deal in saleable goods send explorers to the ends of the earth in search of precious merchandise ranging from diamonds and gold to linen and wine. less egotistical, even pious missionaries, or scholarly seekers after knowledge also sailed the seven seas and sought out new overland routes to far-flung lands to further human progress.  we can no longer realistically deny the mounting archaeological, linguistic and cultural evidence that they did. and politics, war and religion moved peoples, traditions and books from one place to another in surprising ways.

the gorgon, medusa, is a case in point. gor is gcor, a mutant variant of an ancient form of cathar, which is a gaulish variant of the irish cathair, a city, found in ancient greek as cwr- or cor-. the vowels have changed so we can’t tell what the original suffix was, whether –er, -ar, -or, or something neutral-sounding to the gorgons themselves. so gor means a city, a chair of residence, ultimately, a culture, a school of thought, philosophy, religion etc, a path.  (path is a p- form of cath-, and python is another with a suffix equivalent to the latin –anus, and the english –an.  cath is seen also in cathbad, cassandra, katmandu, katatjuta).  one variant of cath is gc/ad, pronounced god.) 

gon is a similarly mutated form of khan. (af)ghan, conn, ceann and ken(mara), are some other k- forms and penn, pen and ben as in penn bran, pendragon and ben nevis are p-forms of it.  gon too derives from cath but with a different suffix: -an instead of –ar.  gor and gon are equivalent terms then, both meaning a (specific) path or culture.  it bespeaks a merger of two paths, one calling itself gor (gcath’r) and the other calling itself gon (gcath’n)  of course, the c to g mutation may have happened after the merger, or before it, or at the time of it as a result of it. most such mergers were due to mass marriages.  if it happened before, the bourbons are older than we dare to think!!!

the gorgons were all once beautiful.  in those days that meant richly-dressed, well-groomed, and with no deformities, and hidden if not healthy.  but one of them, medusa, offended athene and was punished. med- as in mediterranean, meant centre. med-ea and med-i are probably polis-specific forms, with the endings denoting specialisations which analysis might uncover, but not just now.  (i intend to discuss noun gender in a later essay, so stay tuned.) medusa seems to have been a third, related polis.  these names almost certainly represented not individuals but polises or schools, or systems of polises or school/s. the word medicine, despite its different spelling, probably came from medus or medusa or both, its modern spelling having being construed from medus(a)+ an, with medic and medical being back-formed from it, or else conflated with forms of the uninflected stem which denoted polises similarly famed, and this gives us our first of many clues to what may have been a preoccupation of her culture. 

furthermore, asclepius, the celebrated surgeon and pharmacologist, had powerful medicines derived from medusa. asclepius learnt the art of healing from apollo (the polis, palace, college) and cheiron. (cheiron is a relation of the gorgons.  as gor comes from gc/ath+’r and -gon from gc/ath+’n, so cheiron comes from cha/e(th)ir + on. and so the two are clearly related.)  according to the legend, athene gave him two vials of medusa’s blood.  one vial could raise the dead, the other could cause instant death.  these two vials contained blood from the veins of the left and right sides of the medusa’s body.  no doubt the vials were real, they were in a box and the left hand vial could cure while the right hand one could (we hope) euthanise more or less instantly, and this was garbled and given its spin through successive tellings and translations on its way to homer into the version he has preserved for us.  so there’s further evidence in favour of her having been a purely or at least predominately not an individual but a medical college whose women were as wise as its men, and perhaps they had no commitment to the greed and lusts of the emperors.   

so assuming she was the female component of such a college/polis, her crime was to ‘lie with’ poseidon.  pos is a p-form of cath/path, and -eidon is related to eddas, to irish oideachas (education, literally edda-path), to oedipus (which is a p-form of oideachas, and to the latin educare, to educate. it’s incidental resemblance to the latin e or ex = out of + ducere = to lead, has led to the erroneous etymology now usually given for it. it is also related to the greek suffix –oides meaning idea  and ode, a kind of (latin) poem or similar, and the english ‘idea’ .  path of ideas/education is a fair title. this ‘path” becomes more and more evident as data accumulates, but if you don’t look for it you don’t see it. but once you realise it’s there, you start seeing it everywhere.)  poseidon too represents not a man, but a culture, or more often since he is recorded only by greeks, only its shipping line because that was all they ever encountered of it.

poseidon is thought of as a sea god, implying that along with neptune, manannan mac lir and lir and many others, he sailed the sea in ships.  not all such sailors were in the service of some emperor.  some served the paths of knowledge with pure and pious intentions, as explorers, scientists and sociologists, and there’s no reason to imagine that poseidon wasn’t one of these.  his name suggests he was. 

but in those innocent days, as still today, it was usual for sailors to ‘lie with’ the women of the ports of call, to give them babies to strengthen their culture and in exchange the shore-women gave these homeless, wandering men focus, love and the chance to be fathers. in those days before syphilis was understood it was not always considered irresponsible as it usually is now, and was often institutionalised at least to some extent, with legal agreements and signed documents to prove paternity. 

“so early the next morning the sailor lad arose

and into mary’s apron threw a handful of gold

saying, ‘take this, me dear, for the mischief that i’ve done,

for tonight i fear i’ve left you with a daughter or a son,

and its home boys, home….”

if it be a girl child, send her out to nurse,

with gold in her pockets and silver in her purse,

and if it be a boy child he’ll wear a jacket blue,

and go climbin’ up the riggin’ like his daddy used to do,

and its home boys, home….”

but athene took offence.

athene turned the medusa into a winged monster with glaring eyes, huge teeth, protruding tongue, brazen claws and serpent locks, whose gaze turned men to stone.

that’s pure magical nonsense, isn’t it? or is it?  we get a bit more insight later on when perseus is sent to confront her.

unlike some versions, this tale admits that medusa is so ugly that people who look at her are petrified with fright, i.e., not literally turned to stone, but nevertheless it plays on this figure of speech for narrative effect. 

perseus promises the medusa’s head to a friend for a wedding present. aided by athene who still persecutes the poor girl, he goes first to sunny, mediterranean samos, where images of medusa and her two sisters are displayed, so that he will recognise her, then to mt atlas where he encounters the three graeae. there’s ridicule in the description of them as having only one eye and one tooth between them, but again the figure of speech is manipulated for narrative effect when he steals the tooth and eye and blackmails them into telling him the whereabouts of the stygian nymphs who equip him for his quest with magic winged sandals, a satchel, and a helmet of invisibility. 

but let’s look closely at the sandals, satchel and helmet.  sandals first.  it was a widespread ancient custom to use the dried wings of birds caught for food or sport or for their beauty to decorate their clothing, and conceivably for magical purposes.  wings attached to sandals might lend to a runner’s feet the speed of the bird they came from.  scandinavian winged helmets are familiar to us too. but i don’t think it was a pair of decorated sandals that enabled perseus to pursue medusa.  she now lived, we discover, in the hyperborean realms, in a bleak, craggy, weather-ravaged land, and while he departed for it westwards from mount atlas, he must have turned north, because on his home journey he departs southward, fleeing, and ends up where he started.  this means he went by sea around what is now portugal, because overland he’d have just gone straight there in a north or north-westerly direction. so there were ships, or at least one.

so rather than perpetuate the idea that our ancestors were fatuously naive and superstitious i’m inclined to believe that the sandals are probably ships and the wings sails; and he would have taken more than one ship. he had a fair bit of fighting to do when he got there.  you only have to consider the similarity of words like boot, boat and the french boi^te (box) to understand the ease with which a word for sea-going vessel might be mistranslated as sandal in transition from one language to another on its way to homer.  the satchel, too, could have been anything originally, but satchels are mundane things so satchel may be the correct translation.

the helmet of invisibility recalls manannan mac lir’s cloak of invisibility.  considering the kind of invisibility both were after, these items might have been the uniform or customary dress of the inhabitants of the land they intended to enter secretly, wearing which they were ‘invisible’ meaning inconspicuous, to the locals, seeming only to be their own warriors.  in such disguise they might enter the highest precincts without challenge. 

these are guesses, but they show that it is possible to feel our way cautiously to the history behind the myth, and it’s worth the risk of error to try to do so.

so medusa was a sea journey away and she was way up north. what this means is that she had experienced some mighty extreme changes of climate, from very mild, even warm to hot, to extremely cold. med- means mediterranean. hyperborean means of,  pertaining to or characterising the extreme north.  it’s cold up there, and if you’re not used to it and not expecting it, you’re not likely to thrive there. the major danger  is frostbite.

severe facial frostbite comes upon the unwarned novice unexpectedly.  the face feels numb for a long time, and there’s no pain, and no hint of damage being done until it’s done.  it isn’t until the face thaws that the pain is felt, and then it’s too late – the worst affected areas of facial flesh have already died and can’t be healed. they are destined to rot away and fall off. eyelids, noses, cheeks, lips, tongues, chins, fingers and toes are the most vulnerable and most frequently severely affected parts. imagine what a young girl would look like! sent to the hebrides (like being sent to outer siberia in more recent times) she would not know not to stand on deck, ignoring the painlessly increasing numbness of her face and hands, watching the sea and lamenting her fate, the damage would have been done before she got there.  and of course, she wouldn’t have been alone – her whole entourage would have suffered the same fate.

so there you are, daring to look upon a once beautiful maiden changed by the wrath of a higher authority into a hideous, terrifying monster. her eyes are rimless  – staring eyeballs in gaping sockets, as you see in ancient depictions of her. her nose is a hideous hole in her face.  her huge mouth has no lips to hide the discoloured teeth, which project horribly twistedly out of the near-gumless bone-ridges of her jaw as the images show by only slightly exaggerating the effect into curving, dog-like fangs. her tongue, visible through it, is a truncated mass of stiff, ugly scar-tissue, protruding between her teeth. the bare bones of her fingers protruding through the flesh of her horribly damaged fingers look like brazen claws.

that she is winged means she has adopted the scandinavian/celtic custom of wearing wings for decoration or magical purposes, and that her hair has become snakes means that she has adopted their fashion of wearing her hair in plaits.  (little girls were still referring to their long plaits as ‘snakes’ in australia in the 1950s, when i was about six or seven years old, waggling them and pretending to make them hiss to scare each other for fun.)

but the thing most interesting to us here happens when she tries to speak. 

it’s probably no time for jokes, but in the words of the old song:  “can you say bread and butter without moving your lips?”  or perhaps rather, since it is a ventriloquists’ song, “can you say gread and gutter ghuithout ghoghing ghyour liks?” 

or what if your tongue is paralysed or gone, too?  liks becomes ghyiks. 

now when perseus has decapitated the medusa, from her dead body spring the winged horse pegasus and the warrior chrysaor, helbent on pursuit, and perseus flees.  well, not from her corpse maybe but perhaps her corps. this pun is possible because of an ancient kenning or system of kennings which depicted military forces as bodies, with heads, tails, wings, horns etc. descriptions in ancient hebrew and other texts of beasts with horns, wings and heads on their horns are usually descriptions of armies that are to be faced or raised. pegasus’s wings may be merely a feature of dress,  but it may be a military term.  pegasus is the horse, i.e., cavalry of medusa’s army, and the wings are a military formation.

obviously, they sprang not from her dead body, but from her retinue, and perhaps they were armies under the command of her sons. one of the main reasons for sending shiploads of women anywhere was to provide the men of distant colonies with wives, and these might have been the first generation of warriors descended from these frostbitten beauties.  their fathers would have left their early upbringing including the teaching of their mother-tongue to their (unfortunately lipless) mothers, and so, even though they would have had well-formed lips and tongues, they would rarely have heard any language at all other than their mothers’ deformity-modified speech and they would have learned to imitate it as perfectly as children always learn to imitate their parents’ speech. without lips, how would you tell a child just learning to speak that s/he isn’t a little gorgon, but a bourbon? 

anyway, for a practicum, try now and then speaking english, or your own native language, or any other language if it comes to that, in a ‘frostbitten’ accent, and then let the implications filter through to your perceptions of celtic, grecian, and all other cultures and languages worldwide. 

and watch this website for further essays on this subject.

the rudest word of all isn’t very. by lynne gwyst.

a ‘count’ is a ‘conte’ is a ‘cunt’, i.e., a petty aristocrat or someone behaving like one – overbearingly, arrogantly and contemptuously.

a ‘cunt’ can also mean the pubic mound of a human female (not the canal as some have suggested – read on for an explanation) .

what we have here is a pair of homonyms, the same word with two or more different meanings. other examples are ‘bear’ (animal) and ‘bear’ (carry), and ‘fine’ (okay), ‘fine’ (thin and delicate), fine (high quality) and ‘fine’(penalise or a penalty). so cunt (unpleasant man) and cunt (a woman’s pubic mound) are homonyms.

both are related to gaulish forms of the modern irish ceann, from old irish words like cenn, cend, cion, et al., meaning a head, or cairn, and to English forms such as cone, or count (from the practice of piling up stones or other tokens as counters to represent livestock, sheaves etc) which occur as mutated p-forms such as mount, mound, amount, and is not particularly obscene.

this explains why in Australia at least the epithet ‘cunt’ refers to a bullying man, not to a bullying woman, although this seems to be changing and yeah, why not. in America it refers in a sexist way to a woman as a sex object, so it seems the other homonym is intended.

the examination of very rude words goes beyond linguistics, touching on sociology, psychology, interpersonal politics and more not the less sensitive for being subtle. but when it comes to ‘rude’ words, the cultural neurosis surrounding them having been instilled in early childhood when impressioning tends to be deep and enduring, the obscenification seems almost natural until you focus on it from the perspectives accessible to mature adults.

not every culture obscenifies a person’s sexual parts or excretoria. relaxed adult nudity is still common worldwide in cultures where the erotica is healthy and natural. obscenity, like other taboos, is culture specific. I’m assuming my readers are able to transcend the neurosis, and that the need for the de-obscenification of the so-called ‘rude’ words of so-called ‘refined’ English will be as clear and obvious to them as it is to me.

we’ve seen how the irish ‘feic’ meaning ‘see’ or ‘look’ was mistaken for the English word fuck, and anglicised as such. ‘fuck’ had begun life as a euphemism for rut or root (e-rot-i-ca), derived from harmless english forms of words preserved in latin as facere, to make, do, or work.

work, make, fuck or fac-, fake, wake, walk, fashion, and many more are all related forms, showing common initial letter mutations of the sort that are still preserved in welsh cornish and breton.

as you probably know I don’t believe in the antiquity of latin. we have no accurate dates for stone monuments. the earliest recorded efforts to derive a chronology for our oldest latin texts were part of a renaissance, based on fanatical religious, racist and political positions inherited from the middle ages, exaggerated by the outrages of the collapsing power structures of the period leading up to the renaissance, and distorted through the warped and delusional lenses of reconstructionists hell bent on channelling god, a claim some ecclesiasts still make for st matthew, st mark, st luke and st john, none of whom can possibly have lived more than a thousand or so years ago (but that’s beyond the scope of this essay).

latin was a school language in England for a long time, and derives much more from English than is usually observed. textbooks are still working on the belief that the besotted reconstructionists propagated, by malicious force it must be admitted, that fictitious chronology the textbooks still use, based on a roman/norman-flattering assumption that latin is more perfect, godly, and therefore nearer to the garden of eden when god spoke to adam, and is therefore nearly as old as the world itself, minus a few days for the creation…

there’s no real support for the claim. latin came into being as a school language when the norman/roman invasion of Britain, when the romans and the multilingual british nations intermarried.

dates are notoriously elusive as before the widespread use of the Gregorian calendar which was only introduced as late as 1582, different schools, towers, stores, businesses, families, farms, councils, monasteries, etc, in the same county might use quite different calendars, having no notion of synchronising theirs with that of another school or other schools that began on completely different dates. and even after the introduction of the Gregorian calendar it was a long time before the confusion caused by its introduction, and the perfectly justifiable resentment of it was sufficiently subdued to permit reliable chronologies to be compiled.

so what I’m saying is that it is more likely that the latin verb facere is derived from a cornovian word pronounced like fuck, and related to similar sounding words in the other spoken but not much written languages of Britain at the time of the latin speaking schools of tudor england. whether the initial letter mutations of the times were regularised or not as they sometimes now are at least in textbooks or within literate dialects, forms such as wake (hereward the worker) muck (mucking around, mucking things up) viking (working), make, bake, fake and (yipe) work, etc, would have been contemporaneous, mixing as freely as people do and as mindlessly mutating, following instincts beyond our understanding.

cornovian is latin for kernow – an(y), and means corn-all-s because the ‘any’ has become a plural ending. the corn, which may also be spelt kern, is itself a plural of ker which is a collapsed form of cather, and is related to words meaning chair or city of the cathers, and meaning a fortified town, but now perhaps already practically synonymous with the grain growing people of Britain before the normans/romans came, when many different languages were spoken in Britain and the languages of the schools, churches and universities, to say nothing of the merchants and seafarers were not always confined to geographic locations. perhaps they weren’t the only ones and perhaps cornovia was not only growing corn, but much becomes clear if british medieval history if we realise that that is what cornovia means.

anyway, back to the topic. it’s in these kinds of contexts, where the languages are all mixing that we find words proliferating from one language to another changing meaning slightly as they go. how did a count/cunt/conte get to be called that?

think of words like country, meaning the land. think of a country. a country is an area represented to the officialdoms of the aristoctracy by an officially appointed count. a caint is a language in irish. it’s pronounced cunt unless you’re trying to avoid it for prudish reasons.

so perhaps during the pacification of british minorities by the normans/romans, we have the small langauges of the illiterate majority represented by linguists called counts, meaning languages and by transference, linguists. these were used to communicate from the hated officialdoms, which they had to flatter in order to prosper and so were hated in their turn, and so their name has come down to us in its present form, only to clash resoundingly with an incidental homonym of the most screechingly sensitive kind. lawkes a mighty and all the poor hanged man said was ‘kill the cunts’ (guild the counts)… 

there now there aren’t any truly rude words are there?

words of one syllable

the study of old words is changing. while university teachings still go way beyond the evidence, all too often calling theory fact, I don’t have to. i theorise freely and experiment with various models, but never defend any of them as fact.

one big paradigm shift with word study is in the reading of the  literation: spelling, syllablisation and classification. that it hasn’t happened yet is astounding.

for most of us the best one can do for the spelling is spell phonetically, but for the purposes of etymology we have to also pronounce it as it is spelt because it shows how it may once have been pronounced. the phonetic alphabet has been built with very fine distinctions in mind, but for my purposes here, I’ll use the alphabet taught to English-speaking children at school. we have not got accurate enough info about pronunciation in the past to warrant anything of much higher resolution, and I find it surprisingly flexible.

example: thought = thort/thawt/thot, but also spells thoft/soft to some renaissance scribes (mostly women, not always scholars). but think??? obviously thought theemth thin rather than thoft to thum.

there may be reasons for polysyllablising
but you can see at a glance that the so-called words so created are actually phrases, or sequences of words. some may be modified or eroded, some absorbed altogether, but they are words in their own right, whether we can explain their meaning or not. and it takes years of lonely study of absolute oceans of historical linguistical data to rediscover the forgotten ones reduced or absorbed by adjacent syllables. when you do, the ones still observable in english can often be still recognisable in other languages. there is no evidence supporting the proto-indoeuropean language model now barely distinguished from fact in university
text-books. most of the medieval corpora were  drawn from a melee of several diverging patois. patois is a word not well understood these days, but its medieval meaning, or at least the general area of it, is accessible if we go gently. so no Maureen, not from god’s famous first discourse with adam in the garden of eden a few thousand years ago, so wondrously resurrected for us by the ecclesiasticated scholars of the embarrassingly recent past and still taught at universities worldwide – or else. delete PIE, insert medieval hip-talk, school-talk, padua, patois, the roving, interweaving, intermarrying common second language(s) of the literati of the major trade routes and routes of pilgrimage and the quiet farms, game-rich forests and factories of commerce of the times etc, as the grab-bag from which the modern indo-european languages were drawing at the end of the renaissance and not a generation earlier. this melee, always diversifying throughout its range, was widespread, extending well beyond the indo-european regions, as i will explain in later blogs if you’d like to subscribe.

example: pol-y-syll-a-bl-is-in-g. each syllable is a word, or often enough a collapsed phrase. pol = polis, y = way, syll = school, a(n/m) = a/the, b’l = school, is = is, in = the, g = way. i can’t explain why in less than five or six lengthy blogs, but for now let it illustrate my observation that each syllable is a word in its own right. in tables and with illustrative examples I will show why I am (tentatively) translating them into modern English as I do. the aim is to see clearly that each syllable has a consistent meaning from one polysyllabic word to another. in distinguishing them from true words as mere affixes we risk missing the point of them altogether.

classifications such as verb, noun and adjective tend also to break down and we’re left with mostly what grammar books call ‘stems’. any stem could be a verb or noun or adjective or adverb, qualified by other stems in conventional phrasings.

example: pol meant the whole palace full of people, or the people, or the buildings, and therefore ‘very many’, therefore ‘much’. elsewhere on the path it means a singularity or single moment, cornish pols, english pulse, pile, (opinion) poll, etc). it was handy enough in the vocab-poor patois for all manner of uses, and survives in many forms in english, including the b’l of the so-called suffix –able. don’t flay me, i’ll bring evidence.

at this point ms etty moloji was strait-jacketed and carried off back to her library gibbering incoherently at the idea of there being only ONE big paradigm shift to cope with. there she morphed comfortably back into vyvyan ogma wyverne aka wyverne or wy who clicked publish and then went off to get tea.

Lynn Gwsyt: a lucid look at St Luke

Luke 18:35-43

this is not pure greek, ma darlings, but richly mixed with a number of school and town languages which I class together loosely as ‘the patois’ (see padua) the language of the pathers/cathars (think of parthian, partholan (don’t believe the chronologies; they are guesses) catharism etc and catholic as well. (the official etymology is false)

official translations depend upon a lexicon that is schoolboyishly wistful and naïve. a lexicon is what you have when you have no dictionary, i.e., nobody knows what the words really meant, you’ve had to work it out from somebody’s best effort at a translation. the makers of these texts were passionate about reconstructing, and as naïve about it as the Romantics, or as the neopagans around us today.

it’s a passage taken from the gospel of st luke. I chose it at random to try my classical, mostly Homeric greek on, totally not expecting to find what I found.  I was going to fill in the ‘theirs’ column, but ran out of time. the feel of it is that it has been skimmed for a sense that it could have to agree with the growing mythos, without much expectation that anyone else could discern the errors. and the translators were without peer review and were committed to getting up a gospel for the indoctrination of school children. the bible used to be their primer. this accords with Cervantes’ description of medieval/renaissance translation practices. gets him some of his biggest laughs. i’ve set this out in table form. it’s not complete, but not, i do ardently believe, as wrong as the official one. have a look and see what you think.

a lucid look at a little of luke

the anglo-saxon rune poem: a new translation

the anglo-saxon rune poem: a new translation.

ma dear ones, to see the conventional translation, turn to page whatever, depending on which textbook you are using and run your flipper, talon, fin, claw or foot down until you reach the anglo saxon rune poem. or better still, open these in another tab just for comparison and then read on:

anglo-saxon version:

modern english translation:

the following sample shows the first verse of the anglo-saxon rune poem interlinear with a typical, fairly free translation.

feoh byþ frofur fira gehwylcum;

wealth is a comfort to all men;

sceal ðeah manna gehwylc miclun hyt dælan

yet every man must share it freely,

gif he wile for drihtne domes hleotan

if he wishes for honour in the sight of the lord.

do deeply interrogate the propaganda here, for there’s a savage spin on it that has wrenched it clear off its hermeneutic, which has gone to hell in a handbasket. the unjustifiable assumption is that the language is primarily ‘germanic’ influenced by ‘celtic’ and church latin. ‘feoh’ is assumed to be related to the english word ‘fee’, which once just meant money (in some old ballads for example). – note that this is strictly corpus etymology, which incorporates a vast amount of guesswork firstly in the translations of texts, which are questionable to say the least, and then in the deeply flawed 19th century comparative philology that the etymologies are drawn from. i believe it is quite wrong, so have no qualms in reinterpreting the evidence using 21st century techniques, some of which i am having to develop because, to my utter amazement, no one else seems to be intending to.

but spelling used to be phonetic, and while ‘fe’ might recall ‘fee’, what of the o and h.  this spelling would have been based on a careful analysis of real pronunciation of speech, and would have represented every sound produced by the utterer and no sound that wasn’t, at least somewhere in the history of this spelling – except in rare events which i need not detail here.  so feoh would have spelt a two syllable word ‘fe-oh’, with the h representing an audible breathing at the least. more like modern english ‘fair’, pronounced with what i as an australian would hear as a posh pommy accent. so i translate it as fair – and after all there would still be a connection since fairs were places where money changed hands.

but frofur?  they’ve had to guess. the word appears elsewhere in the corpus. someone’s guess, if not for this text then for some earlier text, has gone into the lexicons as official knowledge of the language, forever after to shape or distort all subsequent translation attempts. and in my opinion they’ve guessed wrong.

if you have false teeth (or if you haven’t, just imagine it) take them out for a moment and letting your lips relax completely, try saying ‘proper’. ‘is that the proper goose or just the propaganda?’ ‘is the proper propper propping up the proper properties?’ ‘poppa’s purple popcorn parlour proposes the proper propaganda’.

now look again at frofur.

now read on.

that drihtne means honour is also a guess, pure and simple.  so are domes = lord, and hleotan = praise.  they are guesses without foundation, based on an slight chance of a latin origin for which there is no evidence.

worse still, ‘gehwylc’ which occurs also with a case-ending as ‘gehwylcum’ is translated as ‘comfort’ in one place and ‘freely’ in another, with total disregard for grammar, and both ‘fira’ and ‘manna’ are translated as ‘man’.

this is simply not an academically sound translation, but we seem to be stuck with it. every student knows that his/her career depends on agreeing with the existing scholarship and that it is exceedingly difficult for any alternative theory to get a hearing among the professionals. unbelievable as it may seem, most currently existing scholarship, conceited in its wisdom, is committed to the grammatical logic it has derived by guesswork and which it then tautologically invokes to make further translations.

it’s often true that any historian with a knowledge of a couple of germanic languages (preferably dutch and danish), a couple of celtic ones, including irish, good english and some french, an ear attuned to dialect difference and a knowledge of how spelling sometimes reflects real speech and sometimes doesn’t and a feeling for when it’s likely to and when it isn’t can enable you to derive reasonable sense from the anglo-saxon texts using common sense alone, while the traditional scholars’ attempts based on unrealistically formalised grammar and lexicography based on such guesses as the above and worse are often unconvincing and sometimes down-right nonsensical.

whether we err through excessive simplicity, or through over-sophistication, naively or ‘conceited in our wisdom’, i argue that we get more sense out of the simple method than we do out of the overly sophisticated ways.

let’s try simple substitution of the english word nearest in sound to translate this poem. i’ll assume that the spellings are strictly phonetic. if there isn’t one, i’ll leave it unchanged for now. i won’t be right in every case: ge isn’t gay for example, but bear with me – things like that will be picked up and corrected at the end.

feoh byþ frofur fir a ge hwylc-um;

fair  be’s  proper for a gay hwylc -um

sceal ðeah manna ge hwylc miclun hyt dælan

sceal there many ge hwylc miclun it dælan 

gif he wile for drihtne domes hleotan

if he will for drihtne domes hleotan.

now i observe that three words, sceal, miclun, and drihtne are very close to the irish words, scéal, mic léinn, draíocht, and as i know from wider reading that irish words are as often to be found in old english texts as english ones are in irish texts, i’ll translate them without a qualm as story, students, and druids, since draíocht is from draoi meaning druid, and -ne is an old plural ending. now we get:

feoh byþ frofur fir a ge hwylc-um;

fair be’s proper for a gay hwylc-um

sceal ðeah manna ge hwylc miclun hyt dælan

story there many gay hwylc students it dælan

gif he wile for drihtne domes hleotan

if he will for druids domes hleotan.

now it becomes possible to look at words which are not quite so close to obvious english or irish equivalents: dælan and domes.  these are still recognisable english words if a dialect difference is noted: in some areas the hard t is softened to a d. so substituting we get:

feoh byþ frofur fir a ge hwylc-um;

fair be’s  proper for a gay hwylc-um

sceal ðeah manna ge hwylc miclun hyt dælan

story there many gay hwylc students it telling

gif he wile for drihtne domes hleotan

if he will for druids tomes hleotan.

and as for the rest, hwyl- can be while and mean ‘while away time’ or ‘a while’ and the –c, which if futharc is fathers is a plural ending (see here), and hleotan can carry both senses, letters and loud, and mean ‘read aloud’.

 feoh byþ frofur fir a ge hwylc-um;

fair be’s proper for a gay times -um

sceal ðeah manna ge hwylc miclun hyt dælan

story there many gay times students it telling

gif he wile for drihtne domes hleotan

if he will for druids tomes read aloud.

now we can interrogate the grammar: obviously ge is a prefix, not the english gay as first seemed possible.  although it’s spelt like the germanic ge- it’s used like the irish go, since the –um ending of gehwylcum signifies a plural noun in the dative or sometimes genetive case which is implied by the preposition fir=for.  so it can be left untranslated, and so can the –um (although it seems to have once been a separate word meaning ‘of)’  the a is no longer a singular indefinite article since the following noun is a plural, so it must either be a’=all, or part of the preceding word – i.e., fira = for (see sp para). my guess is the latter. for, as in dutch voor, looks like before, or in front of, especially since fira means for. byþ can be ‘be’s’, meaning is. and we can supply an indefinite article before the singular noun, story. finally, since miclun is plural (irish mac léinn (s) mic léinn (pl)) he must be they (and there’s nothing so variable from dialect to dialect as the pronouns, so it’s anybody’s guess, and this is mine!).  so it now looks like this:

feoh byþ frofur fira gehwylcum;

fair is proper for time-passings

sceal ðeah manna gehwylc miclun hyt dælan

a story there many times students it telling

gif he wile for drihtne domes hleotan

if they will before druids tomes read aloud.

let’s now consider the word-order.  the first line is idiomatic enough.  in the second, the word order is reminiscent of cornish word order. where the most interesting word in the sentence comes first: story, and it’s pronoun hyt, reminiscent of the dutch ‘het’ = ‘the’ refers back to it.  it’s actually two sentences, one without a verb, with the verb to be understood: “a story there many times; students telling it, if they want to read tomes aloud before druids.

okay, there is more work to do on this, but in defence of my technique, i might say that the use of rules for translation derived from texts written in one dialect or language to translate a text in a quite different dialect or even language, such as is currently in vogue, is utterly unsound. the reason that this text is not translated literally into perfect english via the known rules of anglo saxon grammar and vocabulary is that it doesn’t obey them. the languages of the time are very imperfectly understood and the chronology is based on guesses as dubious as those that supply the lexicography, and all bound to the superstition that time began only a few thousand years bc.

when does this date from if the current dates are not reliable? where would we start to enquire? the land was evidently a land of schools and colleges within which learning from childhood to adulthood were prized. druids were still educators.  from wide reading about pre-gregorian times, a diverse yet structured education system is evident, one which would produce language change far more than modern schools do. it brought many children of different backgrounds together to be educated in isolation from the rest of the world, within a linguistic environment both artificial and idiosyncratic. our rune-reciting children fit in well here. despite the fact that only a tiny minority are educated in any given population, one speaker can profoundly affect the speech of a whole generation.  a very elite school which has on its teaching staff a single teacher with a speech defect, or who has a foreign accent, or no teeth, or even an affectation, who takes the scholars for classes given in the school’s preferred language, while other teachers teach in, say, latin, or in classes where language is not so vital such as equestrianism, dancing and fencing, may introduce a particular trait into the language such that the next generation of teachers at that school learn it, the nobility learns it, their retinues affect it, and it begins to be a mark of superiority, such that the educated who use it begin to correct the ‘uneducated’ who still use the correct forms.

like I said, try saying “the proper propaganda is propagated properly” with two fingers in your mouth.  or if you have false teeth, take them out and letting your lips flop, try it then.  or if you have your own teeth, try sucking in your lips in imitation of someone who has none and try saying it then.  then, if you’re not hearing yourself say frofur, i’ll go he.

to test this translation method, let’s look at another verse.  some comments first. from other texts as well as this i take ur to mean fur or hair.  7 is at least sometimes the spanish y for ‘and’.  i take hyrn to be a form of hyr, meaning their, adding an n when preceding a vowel, (’ead) (as in the ‘my father’ but ‘mine uncle’ of not so long ago. )

ur byþ mod 7 ofer  hyrn ed

hair be’s mode and over their head

felafrecne deor feohteth mid hornum

fallow-freck(le)-s deer faredeth (fares+eth -note lisping)  with  horns

maere mor stapa 7 is modig wuht.

mare great-topcoat the one is modish white.

in the last line, mor=irish m/or, meaning great, english more, cornish meur, and stapa has the germanic s, remant of das, attached to tapa, which is the same as top(per), meaning top-coat. it is related to tapestry, and the french tapis, reflecting the weightiness and stiffness of the heavy furred animal skins which were worn as a top garment.

fur is fashionable, and over the head.

freckled fallow deer (that) runs(fares) with horns.

horse(-skin) great-coat that is fashionable white.

 this verse has been translated as something like

‘aurochs is ferocious with huge horns

a very fierce beast, it fights with its horns,

a well-known moor-stepper, it is a courageous creature.’

but the anglo-saxons wouldn’t have known about the aurochs.

I’ll leave you with these first two verses for now, and get back to you with the rest asap.


homer’s iliad: not so long ago?

homer’s iliad – not so long ago…

my penguin classics translation by e. v. rieu is a bit snugly, comfily, into the scene, i-group stuff, gungho the hype –that’s inevitable and better in the long run – but it’s the result of a definite spin. but it’s a tentative enough spin and it’s otherwise a clear and honest and reasonably literal translation.

the book seems to have been already well-known in the greek world that survived the 13th centuryish decline of constantinople. dates are treacherous before the widespread use of the gregorian calendar. nothing is known of the age of the copies, although during the 14th century (this is a pre-gregorian and therefore unreliable date) ‘more reliable copies’ of it were available. boccaccio had leonzio pilato make a ‘rough’ translation of it into latin and thus made it accessible to scholars keen to reconstruct the fallen greek glories. boccaccio had made pilato reader in greek at the ‘studio’ which was the old name for the university of florence. from this and many similar ‘rough’ translations the basics of the ancient greek lexicon still in use was made.

it consists of a whole lot of what i’m prepared to call eye-witness accounts each of which is an entity unto itself, along with general accounts of the wider scenario which was evidently still common knowledge at the time of recording. they’ve been put together as one narrative with a thread of explanatory comment giving continuity and shaping it into a narrative.

it is likely that this thread was added by pilato, but it is also likely that some changes were made when the ‘more reliable copies’ were made. ‘more reliable’ may mean ‘doctored to fit the beliefs of the time’. see quixote and a keating’s history of ireland for accounts of ‘up-dates’ to other peoples’ texts.

in the iliad, sometimes two or three differing accounts of one sequence of events are put in one after the other so that they appear to be different events which followed each other in quick succession. the stories of apollo/achilles, chrysias/brisias  for example are striking examples of this, put in sequence as being closely related and then, perhaps later when their near-identity had been forgotten, interwoven in an attempt to make it make sense and reconstructed as the current version for the sake of smooth reading.

the resulting story cannot now be separated into two accounts of the same events, but it is not hard to see how two similar but slightly different versions may have come through different dialects through indifferent translators and recorders from the same events maintained in memory by soldiers either from stories extant among the military tales of the day, or actually witnessed and participated in by themselves. there is no reason to suppose that the carriers of them would have preferred ancient tales to recent ones. the wars and upheavals of the times were exciting enough to eclipse earlier histories. they might be ancient memories of gods and heroes, but there’s no evidence to support a date for the book or any of its content earlier than the decline of constantinople.

i see flaws in the translation from homer’s greek to english, but the briseis/chryseis problem indicates that there were already linguistic difficulties in recording the accounts of the eye-witnesses, and perhaps translating them from their various languages into whatever language homer translated them from.

homer himself indicated that there were about 150 languages at the time. a favourite theme in comedies and sometimes tragedies of the pre-gregorian era is confusion resulting from mistakes made in translating from one language to another.

the extent to which the two pleached accounts of apollo/achilles differ offers a kind of ‘doppler effect’ by which to estimate the distance in time between the events and the accounts given.

however, if the difference results from translation errors, it could happen in one retelling. but if it results from unreliable memory, it would not have been within the life-time of the teller homer got it from, because personal memories and recent family memories tend to be preserved very accurately. these are memories of a real war, miracles being due to the renaissance gloss, and as such are most likely to be memories of a recent war, since there was most certainly one, resulting in the collapse of an empire, the memory of which was taken from eye-witnesses, known to be mere earthly history, the ‘gods’ being a high up officialdom, the thunderbolts of zeus being cannon, the many other little miracles being errors of the imagination where the translator’s knowledge ran out.  this was written out – as poetry or not, we don’t know now – and later polished up as a poem or poems and then filled out as a narrative in the style of epic poetry of the day.

the notion that homer was ever learned by heart or comes from an ancient oral tradition is a whimsical notion unsustained by any evidence but popularised at the time. it may be that the famed bards of serbia, for example, who remember several day- long ballads (not harder than learning an operatic diva’s repertoire) are remnants of an ancient oral tradition preserving poems of homeric grandeur and length, but it is at least as likely that the serbian bards have patriotically ‘reconstructed’ a tradition that never existed, beyond the usual high-turn-over repertoires of ballad-singers and troubadours, whose performances were not longer than the illiterate could be bothered with.

the difference in the forms of personal names apollo/achilles, and chryseis/briseis shows that they are originally from accounts given in different accents/dialects (in this case one is a p-form and the other is a k-form) of the same sequence of events cobbled up into a single sequence probably during the renaissance reconstruction period.

the original recorders would have been aware that they had two versions of the same story in different languages. perhaps all main episodes of the whole of the iliad were published in some of the ‘less reliable’ copies circulating after the fall of constantinople, without the distortions produced by the need to come up with an epic. there’s no doubt that achilles is a k form of apollo and that chryseis is a k form of briseis. the amount of distortion and the kind of distortion necessary to conflate these two tales into one without identifying apollo as achilles and chryseis as briseis is another ‘doppler effect’ indicator, giving an idea of what sort of hermeneutical license was considered acceptable in the pre-gregorian 14th century, whenever that may have been.

but before the conflation attempt, the two tales existed side by side, so the enquiry becomes a matter of whether the differences in those now lost accounts arose because of memory lapses in the minds of the tellers as the events themselves slipped away into the misty past, indicating a longish time had passed during which small details had begun to be forgotten and personal biases had had enough time to warp the tale a bit, or because they were taken down in the languages of the tellers and then mistranslated at least once on their way towards reaching their final form before being conflated in homer’s greek, or both.

in view of the fact that the world was still resounding to the clashes of culture with their wars and imperialistic pomp and splendour, it is unlikely that the greek-speaking communities of the time were bothering to preserve archaic texts, so the reconstructionists’ claims for the antiquity of the content or of the events described in them, which are not substantiated by any evidence, should not be regarded as reliable by 21st century readers.

the homeric texts have no reliable history until the renaissance, when they appeared in libraries.  constantinople had fallen and its treasures included books.

the greek-reading world diminished with great rapidity. most people tended not to keep books in languages that could no longer be understood, even if they had been prestigious. so the 14th century survivors of book burnings were retrieved from obscure sources and they enter our historical records without any historical or hermeneutical contexts. the lore that scholars since then have filled books with concerning the content is all conjectural, and yet is treated as fact by 21st century scholars who ought to know better.

with only ‘corpus’ to go on, we have no clear knowledge of the linguistic situation of the time, except that it was certainly complex and in a state of constant flux, and we don’t know to what extent the ancient greek language was having to be reconstructed (as the cornish is now, with many texts in good cornish appearing annually.) it’s possible that when the continuity passages were added when the homeric tales were translated into latin by the florentines, in their best scholar’s best attempts at deriving the language from the texts – no doubt they derived a lot of help from speakers of the local languages surviving from the melange.

the greek language evaporated rapidly, so if pilato knew any form of it, it was already a remove from homer’s own. it seems evident now that the modern greek language, which is clearly a true direct descendent of the homeric greek, and so there’d be no very serious errors of translation, because there has always been a large population of greek’s speaking a continuation of it who could still easily understand it. this is so even now, so it would have been more so in the 14th century. but that fails to take into account that the greek language was reconstructed from the old texts and greeks filled with national pride sent their brightest scholars to boccaccio’s university to learn their ‘own’ (reconstructed) language, precisely because they’d lost it as a natural language. it’s as if the people now reconstructing the cornish language denied the possibility of error and passed laws enforcing the compulsory education of all children of anyone who is anyone in reconstructed cornish while inculcating a contempt for english.

with the power the wealthy universities of the renaissance had, it would be possible to replace native languages with the artificial greek retrieved from near extinction. this would mean that modern greek is not a direct descendant of ancient greek, but only of reconstructed renaissance greek, and it is distinctly possible that that is what it is. so appeals to it to confirm renaissance translations are tautological and therefore invalid.

constantinople’s libraries would have contained the most popular books from all over the world translated into greek for the convenience of the literati. there is no reason to believe that the events described in the iliad happened anywhere near greece. the hellenes were in western and northern europe (helvetia, helsinki, hel, helga  etc) all the way over to britain.

boccaccio ‘produced a number of reference works, including two massive classical encyclopaedias. one is a topography of the ancient world, listing all the places such as woods, springs, lakes and seas mentioned in Greek and Latin literature, arranged alphabetically.’

hugely influential at the time it is still unjustifiably regarded as authoritative. we have no other geographies concerned with the same place names to check the latin and greek sources against, and no way of checking claims of any place to being truly the one named in the literature. in modern times it’s common for people to carry familiar names with them from far places: the new jerusalem was far from the site of the old one, new englands are fairly common in the colonies, and australian towns and suburbs, for example have names like newcastle, kensington, and perth. the place names listed in renaissance geographies should be looked for elsewhere in the world and all possibilities taken into account. for example, when the etymological data is all opened out, olympus seems to be a form of the same word lambeth is a form of, and lambeth is a form of bethlehem.  lesbos = e-liza-beth. there’s a iona off the coast of scotland and a ionia in greece. cretan = britain/breton/pretani etc. if some of the greek texts are translated into greek from british or other western languages, the word ‘ionic’ might at least sometimes refer to the scottish iona, not the greek ionia, which may have been named by guesswork in efforts to reconstruct by reconstructionists who wrongly believed the events to have been ancient, hellenistic greek history.  that there are also greek names for these places/schools/people doesn’t make it originally greek or place it in the classical geographies. there is a lot of evidence that the action of the iliad takes place in western europe before the rise of constantinople in the east.

reconstructionists at and around the time of the archaeological discovery of the city still believed to be troy are very probably responsible for attributing to ruined polises and other remnants of older civilisations in greece homeric place names which the greeks had never called them by until taught to by the reconstructionists. but there are places whose names are arguably forms of those in the iliad in more hellenic regions that fit far better.

the latin addition of the book was a best seller during the renaissance, and its content would not have been saved if not recent because the last enclaves of greek-speakers would not have been troubling themselves to keep archaic books. but they would have kept the tale of their own recent downfall, the fall of their city, the biggest event of their own millennium. but the literati of the renaissance wanted archaic stuff, having a vision of a golden antiquity that these texts let them touch the garments of. even if it survived three or four hundred years in greek-speaking backwaters before being released as a great find in the 14th century, it is not more than a thousand years old.

many archaeologists besides schliemann, fired with reconstructionist enthusiasm, have claimed to have found proof of the truth of the homeric tales in sites around greece, basing their geography on boccaccio’s encyclopaedia. they have supported their claims to the antiquity of the epic by finding ruins and buried objects which they claim to have been able to date by the various means available to them. but the scholarship supporting schliemann’s claim that his site was the old bronze age troy is academically speaking substandard, and though the dating techniques of past centuries are not up to today’s standards, which surely can no longer claim accuracy except in rare cases, the chronologies are still unquestioned. one reason is that they fit the biblical chronologies, with the egyptian ones (still debated) fitted in around it. because no events in the greek/asiatic world within living memory or recorded in any texts resemble the events described here, yet they were obviously major events, they must have happened either somewhere else or long ago. modern renaissance scholars seem to have opted for ‘long ago’, and the widespread use of bronze weaponry and armour has been cited in support of this. this is ‘bronze age’ stuff.

but controversy has also raged over when the bronze age was. with no reliable dating methods, it isn’t possible to know the age of rusty iron finds in archaeological sites, nor is an oldest find of so perishable a metal a first appearance. the hellenes whose history this is were defeated, and it looks like it was the ‘cold steel’ that defeated them, and their dependence on bronze may be the reason for their defeat. chretien de troyes is who to bale up if you’re looking for the real troy imo.

historical linguistics: what’s wrong with it?

historical linguistics: what’s wrong with it.

current notions about the linguistic situations in renaissance and pre-renaissance times are not academically sustainable, based as they are on translations of the texts that came to light in extinct languages which were being reconstructed without much accuracy during the renaissance, e.g., the classics, sanskrit, hebrew, etc, the languages of the so-called sacred texts. these translations were usually distorted in support of or to reflect religious dogmas, racist politics and the ulterior motives of the publisher, and the naïve, inaccurate, fanciful and sometimes fraudulent lexicography resulting from it still dominates the database.

our earliest mss came to light during the renaissance, when old libraries were ransacked and some books saved and others burnt according to the whims of the ransackers. see for example in cervantes don quixote, the capture of a knight’s house and the associated book-burning and witness the criteria for saving some and not others, and note what the arrest of don quixote, his torture and horrific fate says about the dominant culture: to get some idea of the political, intellectual and cultural climate, read the whole book.

belief in the accuracy of the biblical chronology, such that the events recorded in all other texts and indeed the chronologies of the texts themselves are arranged to fit around it, with archaeological interpretations distorted to accord, is not academically sustainable. from academic perspectives, it is going beyond any humanly accessible evidence to believe that ‘god’ wrote it and would not err, and so has no place in the dogma. yet like a sleeping metaphor, this submerged bible dogma is often unnoticed even by scrupulous academics.

the bible is known to have been put together from older texts and fragments of unknown origin, translated from we know not what language or languages and promoted over other versions by force. the bible makers’ qualifications for the task, their ethicalness, freedom from pressure, freedom from bias, etc, can’t now be assessed, and their sources of chronological information are not now known. peer review is entirely lacking. at the time it was a heinous sin and you could be tortured for it or burned at the stake. the period was not noted for advanced ethics, enlightened attitudes to unorthodoxy of opinion and pure-spirited enquiry.

that they were wrong about the date of the creation of the earth is generally acknowledged, and yes, adam and eve are conceded to be mythical, and the garden of eden too, yet a firm belief in the rest of the bible chronology, which surely is equally fictitious, from the miracle-attended flood of noah, through the receipt of the ten commandments by moses to the magical conception of god in human form and beyond, is still an unrecognised deformer of the chronologies still in use by 21st century historians, and historical linguists.

this seriously distorts the early comparative philology, which retains work first done while darwin’s theory was still being ridiculed, and the world was believed to be only a few thousand years old and adam the first man. comparative philology, nipped in its humanistic bud by ecclesiastica, which had an even more oppressive presence in the cloisters then than now, was constrained to biblical dogmatism in the extremely coonservative (hidebound?) academic climate of the time.

the earliest theoretic on the so-called (and since renamed as indo-european) indo-germanic language proposed the totally unsupported and ostensibly rejected yet still pervasive theory that old high german was a noble, inflected language, with english belonging to a group called low german, a lesser, less pure branch of it. this is leading them to ignore compelling evidence that english was the source from which german derived so many of its words which are ‘cognates’ of english words during the time of alcuin.

current models are based heavily on ‘corpus etymologies’; and the early scholars’ intention to find the first language ever spoken, though now abandoned, still distorts current interpretations of the data.

corpus etymologies are those which use textual evidence only to trace the history of the word as it appears in texts without acknowledging that when few people could write, the written language of the texts was a-typical and didn’t much reflect natural speech in the real world. and we have saved too few of them even to get an overview.

in addition to accepting unsustainable chronologies, corpus etymologists tend to assume that older forms of words are direct ancestors. for example if a word occurs in a recentish text and a slightly different form occurs in another text believed to be older, they go beyond the evidence to say that therefore the more recent came from the older, even if they’re from foreign lands where word-exchanges of the kind implied would be most unlikely to occur. it is liberating to discard the vectoring and just allow the accumulation of data to manifest as a kind of cloud, within which evidence of the direction and kind of movement of words from one language to another will be easier to assess as the gaps in our knowledge are filled in.

current reconstructions of the proto-indo-european language are still distorted by a belief, unsupported by any evidence, in the antiquity of the inflected languages, with tacit assent to the antiquated notion that these were nobler and we’ve degenerated from a ‘golden’ age. the evidence supporting claims for the antiquity of monuments is flimsy to say the least.

the most prestigious languages of the renaissance and pre-renaissance periods were written languages. when they emerge into reliable history, even up to the mid-20th century in the case of latin in australian high-schools, where until the late 1960s it was still a prerequisite for university entrance, they were still being learnt by the chanting of paradigms as a school language only. there is no evidence that this was not always the case. latin has all the earmarks of a school language potted up for easy learning to preserve older writings perhaps now lost whose age can’t now be guessed at, and then used for new writing by scholars and monks.

the oldest romances and literary tales show latin as a highly respected badge of education, possessed by only an elite all but invisible to the general population. consider the high respect accorded d’artagnon in the three musketeers for his punctilious knowledge of latin grammar. and if you knew no latin, but were good at pretending to, you could get away with it in most genteel, half-educated company, and a good con-artist could use the exaggerated respect for it to good advantage. one of goldsmith’s most vivid characters was such a con-artist. thomas more’s famous experiment with teaching his daughters latin from infancy was considered a bit of a marvel.

traditional textbook dogma about ‘ancient’ greek is as flimsily supported by evidence, and vast amounts of evidence are being ignored because they don’t fit the current text-book models.

pre-literate is still seen as pre-civilised – some writers of textbooks still seem to think that barbarian meant primitive. but it was the name of a people.

the literati knew what they knew from books and from the civilisation centred around them. the children’s education systems were cumbersome, expensive and demanding, so the literati was an elite. most school children soon forgot their learning in pursuit of their vocation, as merchants, miltitia and servants of the great. a small proportion of these, very often women who had little else to do, remained literate, as teachers, clerks and record keepers. an international cosmopolitan intellectual elite wrote and copied and translated and distributed vast numbers of books. much of what little remains from this literature was spared from burning because it presented no threat to the image of a conquering force vaunting its own glory at the expense of that of its hated and despised enemies, which they disparaged and downsized wherever possible.

this conquering force seems to have been exeedingly racist. the celts described themselves in their detailed and vividly descriptive texts as a highly advanced civilisation, with very high moral standards, a highly prestigious education system and anti-racism policies in place. the romans called them barbaric and gave few details, though they employed them to teach their children. but historians have always treated the celtic claims unjustifiably lightly, and while the current celtic revival is changing that, we still see the gauls, who are the not such long-ago ancestors of millions of now-living people, misrepresented in academic and popular literature as easily enraged primitives through howlingly mistranslated texts from their own literature based on the academically unsustainable lexicography of the 19th and early 20th centuries and earlier. this still drives some of the worst, most racist politics we’ve got happening on this planet, not just in ireland but in many other countries also – so it matters.

the indo-european language group is not a real entity, but an artificial construction based on data limited by the assumption, despite vast amounts of evidence to the contrary, that racial borders coincide with linguistic borders.

including the languages of pantheistic, turbaned and loin-clothed hindus in the same group as those of white-ish genteel europeans was so shocking to the repressive christianity that constrained early comparative philologists that they hyphenated it off as if to keep it at a distance – not a near relation – although there is no distinct cultural cut-off and no linguistic reason to place any border between the two. there is similarly no such cut-off between the mediterranian languages and their southern neighbours in africa etc. even maori and australian aboriginal languages have a heavy indo-european component, and chinese place-names and other key words indicate not cut-off but continuity from england to japan and right on round the world, and the same in the southern hemisphere. there’s no need for the location-related name for the language currently called by the ill-fitting name proto-indo-european. the thresholds between languages are being studied and great work was done during the latter half of the 20th century, and also in the study of unstable language melanges such as those in illiterate hindu and semi-literate mexican communities, for example, where change is constant and continuous and not considered a problem.

further chronological errors are made and maintained by comparative studies of the texts that turned up in a location after the renaissance, when, without any evidence at all, recency is attributed to those most like current languages and antiquity to those most unlike them. also, although it is well known that famous books might be translated in many languages and distributed far and near, it seems also to be generally and unsustainably assumed that histories found in a particular location are histories of that location’s current or former peoples, and of course, dates of a copy may be mistaken for the date of writing, and considered almost contemporaneous with the events described within.

generally speaking, the language closest to the one still spoken locally is considered to be the most recent. thus, the faerie queen is still believed to be a recent, post-chaucerian, original poem by the well-known english poet edmund spenser who wrote it in very quaint, very old-fashioned, yet still fairly comprehensible english for poetic effect. there’s no reason to believe that claim. it is later therefore, they say, than chaucer, whose work is later than say, wace’s and so on . this seems to some so obvious that they don’t realise it is going way beyond the evidence. all dates from before the general acceptance of the gregorian calendar are dubious and the reasons for attributing the date should be closely examined. if the truth is that the true date is unknown that should be stated. the fact is that we have many pre-gregorian texts in old-fashioned english all of unknown date and no one knows why the language differs from one to another. (yet if we do that, as surely we must, bang goes a thousand and a half years or so of false history, from 0/0/00 when the god was born, till king james of england had the english language bible authorised, and it was published in other languages as well. even that date is uncertain, having been ‘worked out’ retrospectively by the best-informed guessers using unacademic techniques, after the gregorian calendar came into being.

with all this guesswork and room for error, you’d expect a plethora of theories, but we find the discourse quite constrained to a body of more or less consistent opinion. while this purports to be a proof that all reasonable people agree, great minds think alike etc, in reality, where conflicts of opinion occur, they are usually settled by might against right. prestigious, highly charismatic universities wielding enormous power over the popular imagination, with almost a monopoly on text-book opinion, if not text-books themselves, promote only the carriers of established dogmas with the core of mainstream opinion based upon them, and they have no difficulty curtailing or channeling into oblivion the careers of anyone who proposes alternatives.

this method of steering university based opinion is built into the system. students cannot pass in an examination or essay at the undergraduate level at a university with any credibility if they do not confine themselves to talking from the established dogmas as if they were facts. they must acquire more and more of the textbook view and must seem to accept it all. as they advance towards their degree they may criticise, but not too deeply, and must seem to stand corrected after the patient explanations of their teachers. you get on better if you can enter into the affection they have for one another, so social ostracism is a real threat and can stop dead a line of inconvenient enquiry.

post-graduates tear each other to pieces over their disputes, and the casualties are in my opinion, in terms of human suffering, unsustainable. too many ambitious, brilliant young intellects get demoted to positions teaching undergraduates dogmas they don’t believe as a result of probing too deep. i’m not talking about consiracy, just human nature fearing the critical lens. the ill-treatment of heretics is public and cruel, with flaming, defamation of character, public derision, and on-line persecution common. it is easiest for those in it for the livelihood and the love of language to just toe the hegemonic line and smile blandly through the falsehoods they have to learn and then perhaps teach. many are encouraged to be quite passionate about it, and these are often most active in flaming and ridiculing the others, as they get reflected glory from doing so.

theory about language change is based on masculist world-views that see only men doing politics and commerce and men at work or war, with women only rarely doing a man’s (i.e., a noteworthy) job – marriage and children’s education are not taken into account. educated children and older people are often assumed without evidence to be men.

advances in sexism-sensitive reading of history have not been taken on board enough at current historical linguistics text-book levels, and the intelligent lay reader is likewise still getting images of the past which are distorted by sexism. tirant lo blanc, for example, is written in english by joan martel and now lost, but not before being translated through portuguese and catalan before finding its way into english again. it comes with an incomplete potted history, with some genealogy, of the author, asserting that joan martel was a man – and you can see all sorts of ways in which such an error would arise. the head of the author of this novel is as full of the details of military splendour and valour as a contemporary man’s might have been – but so was that of any of the dizzy girls of jane austen’s time only a few centuries later, and yet of a piece with it. joan martel shows a completely feminine, deeply intimate knowledge of and interest in love letters, the duties of duennas and the moral up-bringing of young ladies, and the heady secret conversations and forbidden intrigues that happen in a young and nubile medieval teenage girl’s boudoir such as no man of the time could or would aspire to. close reading of this text and a consideration of all it implies throws the whole study of historical linguistics into another cast, where women’s ambition for their children is driving politics and childrens’ education, and the competition for the best education for children who are sent to foreign lands to learn artificial languages for international roles is driving language change, complete with lisping, creative use of restricted vocabulary and broken grammar, all becoming idiomatic as the resultant patois come into being. being too weak for war or hard labour, women often did the writing.

the etymological techniques used in the past were based on a belief that language evolution was mainly dendriform, with many branches (of modern languages) going back to a single origin (one or other of the inflected languages) which in turn went back to a common origin with all the other inflected languages, which go back to the earliest languages which were originally thought to be much more perfect, later thought to be very simple and primitive, and now under review as palaeontology reports on the modernness of very ancient peoples and archaeology reveals more about the rising and falling levels of sophistication over the past few thousand years, when one might presume that all people spoke proto-indo-european. this would no doubt go back to a common origin with non-indo-european languages not too much earlier. the cradle of civilisation/garden of eden was prolly mesopotamia, hem hem.

the old texts tell us some of the history of the medieval literati, though they include histories they thought ancient too. they tell us of an international trade route, the silk road. they tell us of ships that sailed the seven seas and colonised the seven continents. place names and comparative linguistics show that the hiatus in world colonisation and trade after the fall of the celtic empire and until the rise of the roman catholic one which restored contact between spain and the americas was largely fictitious, with spanish, irish, moorish, arabic, hindu, african, asian, pacific, american, australian, and other sailors doing it all the time.

quixote’s account of a sea voyage is ridiculed by cervantes, and is still presented as satirical, though it’s surely as true an old text as ever you’d find, to this day. the semi-mythic columbus only proved to an incredulous court that this everyday event was at all possible by circumnavigating the world as he and others were in the habit of doing. languages under these conditions do not just branch simplistically. all manner of events change language that are only just beginning to be studied, and the ones that occur in ancient literature are different from those that occur in the free and easy speech of the medieval illiterate and semi-literate cosmopolitan people, and in the speech of farms and villages. much of what has been learned recently has not yet been taken on board by scholars responsible for the hermeneutics of the renaissance texts.

the education system militates against easy liberation from out-moded constructs. it assumes that the story so far is right in the main and apart from small adjustments, what we should do is build upon it, fill in detail, and ‘flesh it out’. this makes the inevitable knowledge revolutions painful and expensive and damaging to careers, so they are neurotically warded off till the last minute, against all academic reason. this is personally painful for those caught up in it and makes it difficult to reason with them. it’s about at that level of fear that they begin flaming insightful ‘heretics’.

it isn’t just that text-books are expensive and difficult to up-date. the history of language describes the history of that which maintains and communicates history – the language is inextricable from the texts. the stories from the texts as they are known and loved and taught to small children along with their religion, laws and folk traditions, are part of the cultural identity of the folk of the land, lending them some of the glamour of literacy or better, and they are cherished in the form in which they were learnt. older people who have encountered the legends and myths of their culture in childhood and might never get nearer to the texts and scholars’ translations they were retold from, tend to feel empowered, encultured, and stalwart and true, and everything else commendable on the basis of their knowledge, and they resist any change in the details.

in australia for example, university trained scholars have a hard time debriefing the high-school informed public about changes to the dogma in any field, but more so in history, because the so-called sacred texts are protected from realistic academic scrutiny, ie., revision in the light of updates in thinking and reasoning since the fictitious year of our mythic lord. in many subtle and not so subtle ways, reasoning that leads to an awareness of the unsustainability of current scripture-distorted chronologies and current dendriform models of language evolution is quelled, or anyway it tends not to happen anywhere near enough. the reason truly academic reasoning is not being used much is that it does lead to positions from which it can be plainly seen and can’t be easily denied that current models are not sustainable and undue deference to the superstitions of the religious traditions are holding us up.

when is ‘a received truth’ not ‘an entrenched dogma’?

lynn gwyst’s advice for young readers

nicholas ostler’s book, ’empires of the word – a language history of the world’ comes with glowing reviews from all the important newspapers, and ostler’s qualifications are, on the surface, impeccable according to early 21st century academic standards, out-moded as we all know those standards are. and he’s right when he says that ‘the interplay of languages is an aspect of history that has too long been neglected’. but, wrong as current models of language history are, my darlings, being based on the biblical chronologies which are academically unsustainable if you think carefully about it, this history is as badly flawed as any written in the past. 

here’s a gorgeous little quote from the preface (page xxi). sorry about the holes. J

‘ it is a received truth. . . that in the roman empire the west was administered in latin, the east in greek, and the greek administration lasted for many centuries more than the latin: how surprising. . . that . . . latin survived (the collapse of the empire) . . . but greek largely evaporated within a couple of generations. ‘

now rotflmao is not an academic comment, so i shall withhold it. i shall simply get up off the f and find and reinstall my a and find my way back to the podium to continue the lecture.

‘a received truth’ ?!!! without going too far into the exquisitely serious difficulties that plague the defining of the word ‘truth’, and without any claim to hermeneutical certainty (herman’s still doing serious time for heresy in the dungeons of ogsford, beneath the clammy catacombs lined with ancient oaken shelves rotting spongily beneath their groaning loads of hide-bound books, in many-towered academica ), he clearly (herman would say ‘prolly’) meant ‘firmly-held belief’ ‘article of faith’ or ‘entrenched dogma’, not ‘truth’.
it is sad that students doing linguistics aren’t force-fed little epistemological gems like that, and great chunks of academica vera for breakfast along with their oh so comical chromosomes in academia. L a scholar should be able to distinguish between a truth and a cherished notion.
how is this ‘truth’ received? usually via the much-structured, majestically-traditioned, ecclesiastically- conditioned, primarily western european education system. to which kudos! blessed be it! hang on in there!

and whence came this ‘received truth’? not hard, mes enfants: from studies of old texts.

now old texts are those written in old-fashioned languages and forms of languages, and while it’s certain that all manner of changes will happen in any evolving language cloud over time, especially in troubled times, it is very difficult to trace them, and all the worse when all you’ve got is a few mouldy tomes left by the tinily elite and linguistically a-typical literati, and rediscovered by who knows who and when and even where and under what circumstances, (see don quixote for eye-witness accounts of book-salvaging and entertaining insights into renaissance hermeneutica and the translation and distribution of books yn termyn eus passyes) and it’s all done by linguists in an intense exchange with historians and none of them trained at all at all at all in hermeneutics. let’s hope this is changing. J

given the total, ardent, militant devotion some scholars seem to have to the results of these studies, which build upon without testing the foundations laid down by renaissance, medieval and earlier texts, (there i’ve said it)


i have unsubscribed. i’m taking the academically (practically) unprecedented step of thinking for myself. learning not just from inevitably flawed and annually superceded textbooks and books written by academics for the general public (which anyway get used for textbooks as any student of linguistics knows), but from any and every source that might yield insight relevant and revealing. even ostler’s empires of the word is capable of providing access points for extending my own research.

i’ll share it with you as we go. won’t it be fun when we look at the next bit of the sentence?

and no i’m not welsh. i’m an entirely fictitious character invented for fun and frolic by wyldwyverne aka vyvyan ogma wyverne formerly, um, er, oooh, now that’s going back a bit. . . and she’s by a mainly – munster irishman out of cockney mongrelry with a dash of the cornovian den/dane/ duine – tá ‘chuile short ann! but bred in the colonies of oz and resident there amid lizards and crows and largish mobs of human-sized, human-eyed, highly-intelligent kangaroos.


futhark is futharc is futhars is fathers.

howdy, newtlets, Etty Moloji here.
bit of a preamble: please take notes if you wish.

as you will see, herman isn’t here. he’s been arrested for heresy because he was observed by the mind-control robots to be secretly believing that assyrian was an alternative pronunciation of arthurian, and that otto and ossa and offa were all variants – speakers of different dialects all having a go at saying arthur, as in king arthur, and there’s a dire possibility they’re going to string him up.

i feel a bit guilty about it because if he did believe such heretical stuff it may have been because of me. i told him how if you straight-forwardly apply the best principles of historical linguistics to the corpora, having a good general knowledge of at least several, you end up chucking out the current chronologies as spurious and fanciful and that enrages anyone still under the enchantment of the ecclesiasts and you cop serious flaming out of both barrels and so there he is on the rack (spit?) and the spirit of ecclesiastica turning the crank handles.

so the least i can do is take his class for him while he’s away.

etty moloji is my name those of you who are new to this blog. today i’m going to talk about the futhark.

naturally, being not only under-staffed, under-paid and under-funded, but also over-worked, over-specialized, and over a barrel, university scholars and independent specialists in the field of runology seem to be pretty firmly in agreement that futhark is a meaningless list of the first six letters – feoh, ur, thorn, os, rad and cen – of the ancient runic alphabet that survived in various forms into medieval times in old England and Iceland, and, like some scholars of old, they have missed the glaringly obvious truth:


now that means it’s english. not the runic alphabet necessarily, just the word futharc. you see,  just as in the south of England, u is pronounced ‘uh’ as in ‘uh huh’, the ur which is sharp-cornered and sometimes also upsidedown, was pronounced ah not ooh; and the cen was pronounced s at least by the writers of this six-letter sequence, as ‘c’ very often is in modern english. cen meant fire, candle, can of fuel or the burning of same. look also at kindle. pronounce the c as a s and you get cinder, incinerate, incendiary etc. spell it with a s and you get sun, and with a sh and you get shine, and sheen – and then there’s scintillate; all related to words for tin (shiny stuff). so the fact is that anglo-saxons still do those things with those letters.

so how came the rune poem to list them in that order? we can’t know, but i can easily imagine a reconstructionist in the past finding the word and reading it as foo-thark, which is meaningless, concluding it to have been, like alphabet (alpha, beta, etc), the beginning of an alphabet, and writing the rune poem as we now have it. because why would anyone call an alphabet fathers? was there a people called fathers whose alphabet it was?

more research necessary. 🙂