Monday, February 12, 2018

The Gothic Digraphs ai and au

The vowels of Wulfila’s Gothic include the letters a, e, i, o, u, and the digraphs ei, iu, ai, and au. There is some question about the sound values of the latter two, the traditional understanding being that these digraphs were each used to represent three different sounds: a diphthong, a short vowel, and a long vowel. By this theory, the digraph ai was used to represent (1) the diphthong ái (identical to ei in German mein); (2) the short vowel (similar to a in English hat); (3) the long monophthong ai [e:]. The au digraph was used to represent (1) the diphthong áu (ou English house); (2) the short vowel (o in English not); (3) the long monophthong au (au in English aught).

There are several criteria we must consider when reconstructing the various sounds that may have been indicated by these digraphs. The first and most important of these is the comparison of Gothic with other Old Germanic languages. This criterion takes examples of words with the au or ai digraph and compares them to their cognates in other Old Germanic languages, as well as to the reconstructed Proto-Germanic form. Where we find a consistent type of sound across several forms, and in the reconstructed form, it is reasonable to assume the same type of sound is at work in Gothic.

Comparison of Gothic baíran “to bear” to cognates in other Old Germanic languages shows a short vowel: see OHG beran, ON bera. Similarly, daúhtar “daughter” is cognate with OHG tohter and OE dohtor, suggesting the au in this word represents a short vowel. Applying this same principle of comparison to other words suggests that under certain conditions these digraphs are used to represent a diphthong, under others a long monophthong. (Robinson 64)

Another criterion which is helpful for determining the value of these digraphs is the Gothic spelling of Biblical names. For instance, ai is used both to render Greek ɛ in the name Aíleisabaíþ “Elizabeth”, and the long Greek monophthong αι in the second syllable of Haíbraius “Hebrew” (Robinson 65). By carefully considering the list of attested forms, their cognates in other Old Germanic languages, and their use in rendering the spelling of Greek names, we can derive the following rules (Wright 1910):

appears only before r, h, and ƕ[1]

ai appears only before a following vowel

appears only before r and h

au appears only before a following vowel

This theory has recently been challenged: if these sounds were uniformly distinct, why would Wulfila, whose orthography is otherwise very precise, not have represented them using individual symbols? This objection posits a two-way distinction: a short vowel (ai as [e] and au as [o]) before consonants, and a longer vowel (ai as [e:] and au as [o:]) before vowels. But whether a three-way distinction existed in Wulfila’s time, Robinson maintains it is useful for the modern study of Gothic, since the suggested vowels aí ái and ai each derive from different sources in the proto-language. (Robinson 67)



Works Cited

Robinson, Orrin W. Old English and its Closest Relatives: A Survey of the Earliest Germanic Languages. Stanford, CA, Stanford Univ. Pr., 2003.

Wright, Joseph. Grammar of the Gothic Language. Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1910.



[1] Wright notes the possible exceptions of aíþþáu, waíla, and the reduplicated syllable of pret. strong verbs belonging to Class VII.


Currently Reading: The Development of Germanic Verse Form, Lehmann
Current Audio Book: The Hobbit, by JRR Tolkien
Currently Translating: The Old Saxon Heiliand

Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Hygelac's Raid and the Necklace of the Brosings, Pt 2

In last week's post, I began looking at the curious comments in lines 1192-1214 of the Beowulf poem regarding Hama, Eormenric, and the Necklace of the Brosings. In today's post, I consider the necklace itself, and offer some suggestions as to the juxtaposition of this episode with the foreshadowing of Hygelac's death in the Frisian raid to wit: the poem may be much less critical of Hygelac than is typically thought.

The Necklace of the Brosings

The Brosinga mene mentioned here seems related to the Brisinga men of Old Norse legend as related in Þrymskviða and Husdrapa. In both poems it is the necklace of the goddess Freyja, and its name is associated in the Elder Edda with brisingr, an Old Norse poetic word for fire. Taken this way, its name might mean “shining necklace” or “bright necklace.”

The usage in Beowulf of Brosinga mene suggests another etymology: it may have originally been a necklace particularly associated with the Brisings or Brosings. In a case parallel with the etymology of the sword Tyrfing in Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks, a name which was originally associated with a particular group of people has lost its meaning and become associated with a physical object: most scholars accept that the name of the sword Tyrfing in this saga probably refers originally to the Tervingi, a tribe of the Goths. Over time the memory of the tribe was lost to Germanic legend, but the name itself remained closely associated with the legends about the Goths, and was ultimately transferred to the cursed sword of legend (Turville-Petre 86).

In Husdrapa, the Brisinga men is stolen from Freyja by Loki. The god Heimdallr pursues Loki, and after an extended battle manages to reclaim the necklace and return it to Freyja. Andy Orchard has suggested this story may be a distant preservation of the same myth which inspired the story of Hama and Eormenric (Orchard 116).

But we cannot confidently say more than that the Brosinga mene was a necklace of great value, perhaps originally associated with some people group supposed to have been subjugated by Eormenric.  And as Klaeber notes, this does little to explain how this apparently successful raid is meant to influence our reading of the foreshadowing of Hygelac’s doomed trip to the Rhineland (Klaeber 194).

The answer may lie in the text of Beowulf itself.

Whatever the details of Hama’s story as the Beowulf poet would have known it, it seems clear that by bringing the necklace of the Brosings to þære byrhtan byrig [to that bright fortress] Hama accomplished two things: he searoniðas fleah Eormenrices [fled* the treacherous hate of Eormenric] and geceas ecne ræd [chose eternal counsel].

Searoniðas [treacherous hate] is one of a number of nið compounds in Beowulf, including bealonið “violent enmity, baleful rage,” færnið “hostile attack,” herenið “war-hate,” hetenið “hate-violence, enmity,” inwitnið “hostile act,” and wælnið “deadly hate, murderous violence.” Bealonið is of particular interest, for it is used again in close proximity with ece rædas in Hrothgar’s sermon:

Bebeorh þe ðone bealonið,  Beowulf leofa,
Secg betesta,  ond þe þæt selre geceos,
Ece rædas…
(Beowulf 1758-60)

[Guard yourself against wicked hostility, dear Beowulf, best of warriors, and choose the better part: lasting rewards…]

Hrothgar’s advice to Beowulf comes at the end of two instructive parallels: the first is the story of Heremod, a king of the Danes who was eventually overtaken by his own bloody-mindedness. The second was the more generic story of “the man of noble family,” an explanation of where the rot sets in in the heroic society of the poem. Hrothgar tells Beowulf to avoid nið and choose ece rædas. Hama has escaped nið and chosen ecne ræd.

Given this close parallel, it is tempting to suggest that Eormenric takes on a Heremod-like role in the story. But it is enough to say that however the story of Hama ended—and the German and Scandinavian versions all agree it ended violently—by Hrothgar’s standards at least he behaved as a hero should.

The proximity of this reference to the foreshadowing of Hygelac’s death suggests a sympathetic reading of the Frisian raid. Change, as Hrothgar later suggests, is certain. In the face of such overwhelming certainty, heroes should dare—not grasp to hold on to what they have. The poet, like Hrothgar, Beowulf, and Hygelac, accepts that the wages of heroism is death, but does not consider this an indictment.

Nor need this contradict a possible censure of Hygelac’s wlenco [pride**].  For as Tom Shippey writes, “Much of the complexity of… Beowulf stems from the existence in it of two possible and valid attitudes to the heroic life—one admiring its strength and beauty… the other considering its disastrous long-term effects on nations and individuals. Accepting one does not mean denying the other” (Shippey 51).

By the apposition of the story of Hama and Eormenric with Hygelac’s death in battle, the poet allows his audience to understand the latter by means of the former, and in doing so strikes the delicate balance which is the artistic hallmark of the poem.


Or perhaps “passed through” if one takes the MS reading of fealh, as Kiernan does (eBeowulf 1202).
** wlenco may also be translated "high spirits," and whether it is intended as a pejorative is debatable (Klaeber 459).


Works Cited:

“Ævilok Heimis ok Þiðreks konungs.” Edited by Guðni Jonsson, Þiðreks saga af Bern. heimskringla.no/wiki/%C3%9Ei%C3%B0reks_saga_af_Bern_-_%C3%86vilok_Heimis_ok_%C3%9Ei%C3%B0reks_konungs.

Chambers, R. W. Widsith: A Study in Old English Heroic Legend. Russel & Russel, 1965.

“Deor.” Anglo-Saxons.net : Deor, Sean Miller, www.anglo-saxons.net/hwaet/?do=get&type=text&id=Deor.

Kiernan, Kevin and Ionut Emil Iacob. Electronic Beowulf, Online Fourth Edition. University of Kentucky, 2015, http://ebeowulf.uky.edu/ebeo4.0/start.html.

Faulkes, Anthony. A New Introduction to Old Norse. Vol. 2, Viking Society for Northern Research, 2011.

Klaeber, Frederick, R. D. Fulk, Robert E. Bjork, and John D. Niles. Klaeber's Beowulf and the Fight at Finnsburg. U of Toronto, 2008.

Orchard, Andy. A Critical Companion to Beowulf. Brewer, 2004.

Shippey, Thomas A. Old English Verse. Hutchinson, 1972.

Turville-Petre, Gabriel, editor. Hervarar Saga ok Heiðreks. Viking Soc. for Northern Research, 2006.

Thorpe, Benjamin. Beowulf: Together with Widsith and the Fight at Finnesburg. Barron, 1962.


Currently Reading: The Legend of Brynhild, by Theodore Anderson
Current Audio Book: The Hobbit, by JRR Tolkien
Currently Translating: Skeireins (Gothic commentary on the Gospel of John)

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Only Gistradagis

The Gothic word for "tomorrow" is 𐌲𐌹𐍃𐍄𐍂𐌰𐌳𐌰𐌲𐌹𐍃, gistradagis. If that word looks familiar, it should. It's a compound made up of two elements:

gistra-, which is cognate with Old English geostran- which in Modern English becomes yester-.

-dagis is of course from dags, cognate with Old English dæg which becomes Modern English day.

That's right. The Gothic word for "tomorrow" is the same as our word for "yesterday." This is doubly curious, because the same set of compounds in every single cognate language, including words like Latin hesternus, mean "the day before this day." Gothic is the only one where it means "the day after this day."

In A Gothic Etymological Dictionary, Lehmann speculates the reason for this might be that the Proto-Germanic prefix *gistr- may have originally meant "adjacent day," and that in non-Gothic languages it may have taken the meaning "previous day" whereas in Gothic it took the meaning "next day."

Possibly supporting this idea is that in the Old Norse poem Hamðismál we see the cognate form used to speak of the next day:

Vel höfum vit vegit,
stöndum á val Gotna,
ofan eggmóðum,
sem ernir á kvisti;
góðs höfum tírar fengit,
þótt skylim nú eða í gær deyja;
kveld lifir maðr ekki
eftir kvið norna."
(Hamðismál stanza 30)


Currently reading: Worlds of Medieval Europe, by Clifford Backman
Current audio book: The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien
Currently translating: Aiwaggeljo Þairh Maþþaiu, Chapter VI, from Wright's Gothic Grammar.

Sunday, January 28, 2018

Hygelac’s Raid and the Necklace of the Brosings, Pt 1

In lines 1192-1214 of the Beowulf poem, Wealtheow gives the poem’s hero a necklace or torc which provokes an ominous prediction of the future: Beowulf will give it to Queen Hygd, who will give it in turn to King Hygelac of the Geats. Hygelac will wear it during the doomed Frisian raid in which he loses his life in battle with the Franks, and “a worse warrior strips the slain” (Beowulf 1212).

But, as with the hilt of the giant’s sword which Beowulf gave to Hrothgar, meditation on this artifact turns the gaze of the reader not only toward a possible future, but also on a legendary past. Wealtheow’s torc is the greatest “treasure of heroes, since Hama carried away… the necklace of the Brosings… fleeing the treacherous hate of Eormenric, chose long-lasting reward” (Beowulf 1199-1200).

This reference is as tantalizing as it is cryptic. Who are Hama, Eormenric, and the Brosings, and why is their story significant in the context of Wealtheow’s gift and Hygelac’s eventual demise? Beneath these allusions lies a tantalizing hint at a body of legendary tales which would have been known to the poet’s audience, but which are now lost.

Scholars have argued about the placement of this episode in the poem--what it means, if it means anything, and whether or not the poet "knew his job" when he included it. In this and the following blog post, I want to argue that the poet did indeed know what he was doing; that this episode is present at just this moment in the Beowulf poem for a specific reason, and that that reason can be ascertained by looking to the other literature of the Old North to shed light on these forgotten names and "lost tales," then returning to the poem for a close read.

This week, we'll begin with trying to figure out who Eormenric and Hama were.

Eormenric and Hama

Eormenric appears in at least two other surviving works of Anglo-Saxon poetry. The first is Deor, a eponymous poem about a court scop who has fallen upon hard times. Forsaken by his lord, his position taken by another, Deor comforts himself by singing of various figures from the legendary Germanic past, retelling their trials and tribulations. He ends each story with Þæs ofereode þisses swa mæg [that was overcome; so may this be]. Deor’s Eormanric is the wolfish king of the Goths, under whose rule “many a warrior sat, bound up by cares, woes in mind, wished constantly that the kingdom were overcome.” 

The second reference comes from Widsith, a poem which bears many similarities to Deor—they are even found in the same manuscript. Like Deor, it claims to be written by a court scop, and like Deor its primary material is taken from the historical and legendary fabric of the Germanic Iron Age. But its tone is more triumphant. The poetic successes of Widsith “the wide-farer” cover an impossible amount of time and territory, praising the generosity of kings who reward poets well—and providing present-day scholars with a valuable word-hoard of onomastic data. 

Widsith’s Eormanric first appears in the poem’s 9-line introduction, in which the poet undertakes a journey accompanying the “unfailing peace-weaver” Ealhild to the land of Eormanric. Of both Ealhild and Eormanric the poet has more to say: Eormanric ruled the Goths and was wraþes wærlogan [an angry breaker of covenant] although he seems to have been generous enough to the poet: 

…and ic wæs mid Eormanrice  ealle þrage
Þær me Gotena cyning  gode dohte,
Se me beag forgeaf,  burgwarena fruma
On þam siex hund wæs  smætes goldes
Gescyred sceatta,  scillingrime,
Þone ic Eadgilse  on æht sealed,
Minum hleo dryhtne,  leofum to leane,
Þæs þe he me lond forgeaf,  mines fædereþel,
Frea Myrginga; and me þa Ealhild 
Oþerne forgeaf,  dryhtcwen duguðe
Dohtor Eadwines:  hyre lof lengde
Greond londa fela,  þonne ic be songe
Secgan sceolde  hwær ic under swegle
Selest wise  goldhrodene cwen
Giefa bryttian. 
(Widsith 88-102b)

[…and I was with Eormanric; during which time the Goth’s king treated me well, he gave me a collar, chieftain of his people, six hundred sceats of gold in coin reckoned, which I to Eadgils in keeing gave, my patron lord, when to home I came, in requital to my friend, because he had given me land, my paternal heritage, prince of the Myrgings; and to me then Ealhild another gave, noble queen of chieftains, Eadwie’s daughters; her praise I extended over many lands whenever I by song had to say where I knew a most excellent and gold-adorned queen dispensing gifts.]

This scene depicts Eormenric as a generous lord: he gives Widsith a ring (probably an arm-ring) of enormous worth—so valuable it seems to be implicitly intended for Widsith’s lord Eadgils.  Then Ealhild gives Widsith a second gift, this one apparently for himself, prompting him to sing her praises through many lands. The interlude telling of the gifting of the ring to Eadgils need not be read as an interruption of the scene, as some scholars have insisted. In typical Anglo-Saxon poetic style, the poet digresses on the fate or provenance of a material object before returning to his narrative.

(See the Auðunar þáttr vestfirska for another example of this sort of gift-giving. By giving a gift via proxy, a powerful king could honor a peer (or a rival) while still saving face (Faulkes 207). Note also the similarities to the situation in Beowulf: a king gives a ring to the retainer of another king of a value far beyond the retainer’s station. The retainer then returns home and gives it as a gift to his lord.)

We can reconstruct the experience of Widsith the character thus: he travels in the retinue of Ealhild, who is on her way to marry Eormenric as part of a “peace-weaving”—an alliance secured by marriage between the Myrgingas and the powerful tribe of the Goths. He tarries long as a scop in Eormanric’s court, and at the end of his time there he is given a great gift by Eormanric, destined for Eadgils, as well as a lesser gift from the now-queen Ealhild, whose great generosity he praises. This is a far departure from the “wolfish” Eormanric of Deor, and it is difficult to reconcile with the reference in Widsith’s introduction to Eormanric’s treachery. To answer these questions, we will need to look further afield, to Latin and Old Norse sources concerning Eormanric.

In his Getica, the sixth-century historian Jordanes describes the great “Hermanaricus, rex Gothorum… nobilissiumus Amalorum, quem merito nonnulli Alexandro Magno conparavere maiores,” and his rule over not only the Germanic peoples of Eastern Europe, but also over the Wends and the Slavs. But facing invading Huns and treachery among his own vassals, Hermanaricus punished a rebellious vassal by ordering his wife, Sunilda, to be torn apart by wild horses. In the end, an old and ailing Hermanaricus took his own life (Chambers 16-17).

Against this historical account we may set the Scandinavian version of the story as preserved in the Hamðismal, Snorri’s Edda, and the Vǫlsunga saga. Although each of these accounts differ slightly, they all tell how the great king Jormunrekk sent his son, along with his counsellor Bikki, to woo Svanhild, the daughter of the hero Sigurd and his wife Gudrun. Bikki, for reasons unknown, first urges Jormunrekk’s son to woo this fairest of women for himself, and afterwards betrays him to his father. Jormunrekk orders his son to be hanged, and Svanhild to be torn apart by horses (Chambers 19).

Chronologically, Widsith stands somewhere between Jordanes and the Scandinavian sources, with most scholars agreeing that the introduction containing the allusion to Eormanric’s treachery is considerably newer than the rest of the poem (Chambers 28, 145). This becomes important if, as Richard Heinzel suggested, the Ealhild of Widsith is the analog to the Sunilda of Jordanes and the Svanhild of Scandinavian legend. Several factors suggest this, as Chambers elaborates at great length (Chambers 22-8), and it certainly seems unlikely that Eormanric would have had two different queens with similar names attributed to him. Ealhild is a likely corruption of Gothic *Sonahildi since names like this were frequently abbreviated to “Hild” for poetic purposes, and then later expanded again. 

All of this suggests a body of stories over time which associated Eormanric with a foreign queen, either the wife of one of his vassals, or the daughter of some great house wooed as part of a marriage alliance. The character of Eormanric gradually developed from the great but luckless king in Jordanes to the fabulously wealthy but wolfish tyrant of Deor and Beowulf. And if the introduction of Widsith is indeed of later composition than the rest of the poem, it might account for this accusation of wraþes wærlogan leveled against him, as the legends regarding Eormanric developed in England and he became associated with the death of Ealhild, whom the poem specifically praises.

(This is a more satisfactory explanation than the alternative, which is that there are several lines that were simply missed by the scribe who copied or compiled our present manuscript, which would reveal the identity of the wraþes wærlogan. “There is no hiatus in the manuscript,” wrote Benjamin Thorpe, but he cannot otherwise explain the apparent incongruity of Widsith’s later praise of Eormanric (Thorpe 218).)

Hama also appears in Widsith as one of two wræccan, a word which suggests both “hero” and “exile.” The other is his companion Wudga (Gothic Widigauja), a hero of Germanic legend closely associated with the stories about Ermanaric and his perpetual foe, the noble and heroic Dietrich von Bern (the historical Gothic king Theodoric the Great). In these stories, Heme is merely the assistant or cohort of Wittich, companion the betrayal of both Emanaric and Dietrich and the “slayer of youthful princes” (Chambers 51). 

But the Saxon and Scandinavian sources take a more sympathetic view of the pair. Þiðreks saga af Bern, an Icelandic retelling of a lost Low German version of the legend, Vithga is a valiant warrior forced, by a combination of personal honor and complex political machinations, to fight against his former lord. Heimr, the friend of Vithga, is here an outlaw champion who insults Ærminricr to his face before escaping to live as an outlaw, harrying Ærminricr’s lands before retiring to a monastery, until being finally convinced by his old lord Þiðrek to go into battle one last time (“Ævilok Heimis ok Þiðreks konungs”).

In Þiðreks saga and its Saxon source material, we find late echoes of the legend alluded to in Beowulf. Eormanric’s legend, already several centuries old by even the earliest estimates of Beowulf’s date of authorship, had grown from that of a peculiarly tragic king to that of a cunning, wrathful, treacherous tyrant—generous no doubt to poets, but liable to turn on his own family members at the slightest provocation. Against this tyrant the legend cast Hama, the outlaw, who seems to have gotten the better of Eormanric in at least one important escapade: the theft of the Necklace of the Brosings.

That's enough for today. In next week's post, we'll take a look at the "Necklace of the Brosings," and consider the placement of this episode within the poem.



Currently reading: A Companion to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature and Culture, edited by Rory McTurk
Current audio book: The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien
Currently translating: Aiwaggeljo Þairh Maþþaiu, Chapter VI, from Wright's Gothic Grammar.

The Necklace of the Brosings - Beowulf lines 1192-1214

The following is a translation of the “Necklace of the Brosings” digression in lines 1192-1214 of the Beowulf poem. This translation was made using the critical text in Klaeber 2008, and aims to preserve the word-order of the Anglo-Saxon text as much as possible in Modern English.

To him was the cup born and friendly invitation
With words offered, and twisted gold
With good will presented, arm-ornaments twain,
Garment and rings, of neck rings greatest
Of those that I in earth have heard.
I under heaven heard of no better
Treasure of heroes, since Hama carried away
To that fair stronghold the necklace of the Brosings,
Jewel and fine setting – fleeing the treacherous hate
Of Eormenric, chose lasting reward.
This collar had Hygelac of the Geats
Grandson of Swerting, at [his] last expedition,
When he under the standard defended treasure,
Guarding the spoil of the slain; fate bore him off,
When he for pride looked for woe,
Assault on Frisia. He those adornments wore,
Precious stones over the cup of waves,
Powerful prince; he under shield fell.
Passed then the life of the king into the Franks’ embrace,
Breast-garment and collar together.
A worse warrior stripped the slain
After war-slaughter; the Geatish people
The place of corpses guarded. The hall received [the gift] with applause.
(Beowulf 1192-1214)

Over the next couple of weeks I'll be posting a close reading of this passage, arguing for its placement within the Beowulf poem and specifically its relevance to Hygelac's (and Beowulf's) eventual demise.



Currently reading: A Companion to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature and Culture, edited by Rory McTurk
Current audio book: The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien
Currently translating: Aiwaggeljo Þairh Maþþaiu, Chapter VI, from Wright's Gothic Grammar.

Wednesday, January 17, 2018

Reading the Old North: Where to Begin

I was recently asked by a young person of my acquaintance for some recommendations on where she might find inexpensive and approachable versions of the literature of the Old North, particularly Old Norse literature. She was more interested in primary sources than published summaries, so I've prioritized this list accordingly.

Volsunga saga - This legendary saga (fornaldarsaga) tells the story of the Volsung family, and includes the archetypal dragon-slaying. It's the basis for the later medieval German Nibelungenlied, Wagner's Ring Cycle, and (ultimately) Star Wars. There's no reading old Germanic myth or legend without reading the Volsunga saga, since everyone who is anyone is ultimately related to the Volsungs in some way.
  • An old-school translation by William Morris (this is the one Tolkien read as a boy; by a coincidence it is also the first thing of the Old North that I read as a boy) is freely available online. The English may be a bit archaic for some, but if you can get around that it's quite good.
  • Jesse Byock has a translation that's been around for a while. When it comes to Old Norse scholars, Byock is the real deal.
  • Dr. Jackson Crawford has new translation that dropped earlier this year, which includes a translation of the saga of Ragnar Lothbrok (sort of the unofficial sequel to Volsunga saga). I haven't read it yet, mainly because it's been so popular it keeps going out of print. I have a copy now, so when I get time I'll do a review.
Hervarar saga - This is one of my favorite sagas. It tells the story of the cursed sword Tyrfing (probably originally the name of a Germanic tribe, not a sword), and its bloody history as it is handed down through the generations and ultimately results in brother rising up against brother. This saga has everything you could want: cursed swords, shield maidens waking the angry ghosts of their beserker fathers from cursed barrows, and one of the greatest riddle-contests of the Old North (undoubtedly the inspiration for the riddle-contest in The Hobbit).

  • The best version of this poem remains Christopher Tolkien's translation and commentary, which fortunately is available for free
Snorri's Edda - Also called the Prose Edda or the Younger Edda. For a variety of reasons, it's not a reliable summary of pre-Christian Germanic religion or mythology (though many people would like it to be), but it was an early attempt to summarize the stories of the ancient North, intended as a tool to instruct those who would compose (or appreciate) skaldic poetry. Despite the fact that it never seems to be quite what anyone wants it to be, it remains one of our most important primary sources for studying and understanding the Old Norse myths and legends.
  • There is a free version available on Sacred Texts. As with most Sacred Texts offerings, it's pretty old (having been translated in 1916). 
  • Project Gutenberg has an even older translation (which I rather like) by Rasmus Anderson.
  • Byock has a translation via Penguin classics.
The Poetic Edda - Also called the Elder Edda. The Edda is really a collection of different poems, composed at different times and on a variety of themes (but mostly about the old Northern myths and legends). It's not what you'd call a religious text (though again, some people would like it to be so), but it is the oldest and best preservation of the stories of the pre-Christian North that we have. If you read the works listed above and find you enjoy the poetry interspersed throughout, this collection of nothing but poetry is for you.
  • There is a very good free version I will recommend from The Viking Society of Northern Research. It's perhaps a bit old, but it isn't as though these things have changed that much. What I particularly like about this edition is that there is a huge introduction, comprised of a summary of each of the poems. Don't try to read the whole introduction all at once. Instead, read the introduction for the poem you're about to read, to help you understand the context and any of the particularly difficult allusions, then read the corresponding poems.
  • Dr. Jackson Crawford has a great new translation that has been selling very well on Amazon (as has his translation of Volsunga saga). I recently gave my own copy away, but once I get another I'll do a review. I have very minor "quibbles" with a couple of the translation decisions, but on the whole this is an easy and approachable way to get into Norse poetry.
The Sagas of the Icelanders - This is not a free edition, but it's a wonderful collection of Icelandic sagas (including my favorite, Egil's saga). Unlike the above works, these sagas operate within the historical and quasi-historical past of the Icelanders themselves. So although they are informed by the old moods and literary conventions of the North (including larger-than-life heroes, skaldic poetry, etc.), they are broad in scope. I can think of no better collection of stories to introduce a student to the unique spirit of Northern literature. The paperback is a very reasonable price, especially for such a large book.

There's a lot of other reading you could do, and I haven't even touched on Beowulf. But this is more than enough to start with. My final recommendation is to check out Dr. Jackson Crawford's YouTube channel if you haven't done so already. It's full of free, engaging, and scholarly explanations of Old Norse literature and language, and the man knows how to wear a hat.


Currently reading: From Proto-Indo-European to Proto-Germanic (A Linguistic History of English), by Don Ringe
Current audio book: The Silmarillion by JRR Tolkien
Currently translating: Aiwaggeljo Þairh Maþþaiu, Chapter VI, from Wright's Gothic Grammar.

Friday, December 1, 2017

Digitizing Hervor: Part 3 - Creating the Facsimile Layer

In my previous post I introduced TEI encoding and the Menota project. As I mentioned, Menota supports three different levels of text representation: facsimile (as close to the text as possible), diplomatic (abbreviations expanded and some special characters removed) and normalized (word forms match those which would be found in a grammar or dictionary of the language in question). In today's post, I will talk about the process I used for creating the facsimile level of the transcription for the Digital Hervararkviða.

Abbreviations and Special Characters

Abbreviations and what we would call "special characters" (that is, they do not correspond to the characters typically available on an English-language QWERTY keyboard) are extremely common in Old Icelandic manuscripts. Actually, they are extremely common in most medieval manuscripts, but medieval Icelandic scribes seem to have increased the number of abbreviations they were using just at the time that everyone else was moving away from the practice. There may be any number of reasons for this--Iceland's geographic remoteness still lends itself to an extreme linguistic conservatism--but one important factor may have been economic.

Parchment was always expensive in the medieval world, and suitable sheets could not be made from older animals. That meant that in addition to the time-consuming work of turning a mere skin into parchment, that skin came with an opportunity cost of a calf who would never grow into a cow/bull, or a lamb which would never produce wool. In Iceland, perhaps more than in some warmer and less remote places, the cost may have been felt heavily.

Of course Iceland also has its own robust literary tradition throughout the Middle Ages, complete with its own orthography and stylistic tendencies (it has been noted, for instance, that the practice of Skaldic poetry was primarily an Icelandic art form). So it may be as simple as saying that this is the way they liked to do things. The abbreviations found in Icelandic manuscripts can be traced back, via the Anglo-Saxon scribes from whom the Icelanders seem to have chiefly learned their craft, to Roman and even Biblical times. There are three major sources: the Tironian notae, a system of shorthand invented by Cicero's personal secretary; the old Roman system of legal shorthand; and the nomina sacra, a system of abbreviating the names of God which early Christians ultimately borrowed from the Hebrew Scriptures, and which had become commonplace in Latin texts by the early Middle Ages.

Matthew James Driscoll identifies four basic types of abbreviations found in old Icelandic texts. I have listed them below, along with examples from the Hauksbok manuscript. But these are only examples which I think typical of these kinds of abbreviations and their use in the text; cataloging every variety of abbreviation in the MS would be too exhaustive for the purpose of this post.

1. Suspension, where only the first letter or letters of a word are written, generally followed, and frequently also preceded, by a point or, occasionally, with a superscript stroke.

e with superscript i for eigi.

h with horizontal bar for hann

h with superscript o for hon

q with points on either side for quað

long s with a point for segir

þ with horizontal bar for þat

minuscule t with superscript i for til
2. Contraction, where the first and/or last letters are written, normally with a superscript stroke, or, less commonly, a point or points.
the name Angantyr, contracted by a superscript stroke over the g

two long s with points on either side for synir

3. Superscript letters, a superscript vowel normally representing that vowel preceded by r or v, a superscript consonant that consonant preceded by a.

hug with a superscript r for hugar
4. Special signs (‘tittles’) or brevigraphs, sometimes originating in a letter or combination of letters.

meg with superscript "er" character for megir. This character is far and away the most common abbreviation used in the Hauksbok manuscript, with the possible exception of the Tironian et.
Learning these abbreviations was by far the most difficult (not to say maddening) part of this process, since none of the training I had in Old Norse up to this time had prepared me to encounter them. Still, I knew they were abbreviations because I had worked with the poem before (in the form of a critical text) and so I knew more or less what it should say. Working backwards in this way, I was able to figure most of them out on my own--but it was a halting process, and my first attempt at a transcription took about three weeks of hard work as I would get halfway through and then suddenly realize I'd been reading a word or a character wrong. I learned a lot, though, and so when I made my final pass (the XML encoding pass) I was able to get it done in about a week. All right, so it was a long week, but the final result is something of which I'm proud--a facsimile which faithfully preserves each and every abbreviation in the original text (or will when the proofreading is finished!).

For the most part, I stuck to the standard encoding for abbreviations as defined by the Menota handbook. When I encountered an abbreviation the handbook didn't cover, I turned to Driscoll's Marking Up Abbreviations in Old Norse Manuscripts. This is a very useful resource which I wish I'd found before I started this project. Where Driscoll also failed me, I used my best judgement, combining the characters at my disposal. Since most of these non-standard cases involved the application of a horizontal bar to a pre-existing letter, this wasn't too hard once I got the hang of it.

In addition to the abbreviations, Menota standards also allow for certain symbols not on the US QWERTY keyboard. Anyone who has spent any amount of time at all with Old English or Old Norse will already be familiar with ð (eth) and þ (thorn). Additionally, Menota recognizes the use of certain rotunda ("rounded") variants of standard letters. For instance, Old Norse often uses an r rotunda instead of the usual r following any letter with a rounded stroke on the right side (such as a b or an o). There are also "small capitals" which are often used to indicate a geminated consonant. The Menota handbook contains instructions for handling each of these characters; however viewing them in a web browser requires the user have a special font installed.

Paleography is, as Prof. Peterson says, something you can really only learn by doing. Tackling this manuscript and creating the most accurate facsimile possible turned into a six-week crash-course in the subject. I hasten to add, lest the reader be daunted, that it was also a whole lot of fun. In his plenary session at Mythmoot IV this year, Michael Drout talked about how much we owe to the philologists of yesteryear, and just how great a gap lies between them and us. Although we are capable of summarizing and sometimes even explaining their work, we're rarely capable of going back and "showing our work" -- explaining how we know the things we know, and how our forerunners came to the conclusions that they did. But until we can, we will not be equipped to question (let alone challenge) those conclusions. The discipline of philology becomes static, and a vicious cycle results.

That is one of the primary reasons I undertook this project. The first job of the philologist is, as Fulk says, the editing and preparation of texts for readers. I wanted to do the work--not just talk about the work that others before me have done. But in the process I have discovered a marvelous thing--the joy of reading Old Norse as it was written down on the page over 600 years ago; the joy of deliberating over each stroke of the pen as much as over each half-line or case-ending. As Svanhildur Oskarsdottir writes, philology "means love of words. So let’s do it – let’s fall in love."

Attached below you'll find a PDF of the Facsimile layer of this project. There are no frills, nor has the proofreading process been completed yet, so take it for what it is. But perhaps it'll give you a better sense of what it might have been like to pick up this poem and read it in the 1300's.

The next layer of this project, the Diplomatic layer, is still in progress. In the meantime, my next post will be a (hopefully shorter) dig into the meter of Eddic poetry, and of the Hervararkviða in particular.

The Digital Hervararkviða - Facsimile Layer

The Ark Returns to the Temple - The Entrance of the Theotokos

  On November 21 (regardless of when November 21 falls for you), Orthodox Christians as well as some more traditional Roman Catholics celebr...