Monday, May 28, 2018

Book Review - Laughing Shall I Die, by Tom Shippey


Considering his long and illustrious career as a Germanic philologist, Tolkien scholar, and literary critic, Tom Shippey’s latest work feels like the culmination of a number of papers and monographs he’s published over the years on something that might be termed the “heroic imaginary” of medieval Germanic literature. This began with Old English Verse (1972), in which collection of essays “The Argument of Courage: Beowulf and Other Heroic Poetry” best articulated the ideas which would find their final expression in the present volume. But although Laughing Shall I Die spends a chapter focusing on the world of Hygelac and Hrothgar and the fall of the Scylding (or Skjöldung) dynasty, the focus of the book is on the Viking age itself. 



Shippey poses a question at the beginning of the book: what was it that made the Vikings so feared and so effective, despite the fact that they possessed few technological advantages over their main opponents, who were from similarly warlike cultures and shared many similar values? In answering this question, Shippey tries to steer between the “horns on helmets” Romantic-era stereotypes as well as the more recent efforts to rehabilitate “Viking culture” in academic circles. He argues for a Viking ethos (and for Shippey “Viking” is a job-description, not the name of an entire culture) characterized by complete self-control in the face of emotional duress, stoicism in the face of “losing,” and understatement through prose but expression through poetry. 

Although this book engages freely with historical and contemporary scholarly thought on the subject and does not shy away from the occasional linguistic digression, Shippey has done an admirable job of making this book accessible to non-academics. Full of good humor, irony, and enough grisly murders and dynastic struggles to satiate even the modern and enlightened appetite for such things, the only thing you need to enjoy this book is an interest in the people who called themselves Vikings.

Wednesday, May 9, 2018

The Riddles of Gestumblindi: Riddle 7

First, here's the answer to Riddle 6:

"Þat er köngurváfur."

"That is a spider."*

Riddle 7

Þá mælti Gestumblindi:

"Hvat er þat undra,
er ek úti sá
fyr Dellings durum;
höfði sínu vísar
á helvega,
en fótum til sólar snýr?
Heiðrekr konungr,
hyggðu at gátu."

Then said Gestumblindi:

"What is that wonder
Which I saw outside
Before Delling's doors?
Its head points
The way to hell,
While its feet towards the sun are turned.
Heiðrekr king,
Think on this riddle."


*I particularly like how Heiðrekr does not compliment Gestumblindi for this particular riddle, as he does for all of the others. Maybe Heiðrekr didn't like spiders very much?


Currently Reading: For the Life of the World, Alexander Schmemman
Current Audio Book: War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
Currently Translating: Aeneid Book I, Vergil

Inflectional Variations in West Germanic Weak Class 3 Verbs

The conjugation of the Old English verb libban “to live” is enough to give pause to any new student of the language. Depending on the case and number, the verb is formed as some variation of either libb- or lif-, with both variants providing valid forms for different case/number/mood combinations. Consider the following present and preterit indicative forms:



Similar inconsistencies are found in all four of the Old English Weak Class 3 verbs: habban, libban, secgan, and hycgan. The primary difficulty of these verbs lies in the fact that different endings are formed with a geminated consonant, a fricative, or (in the case of secgan and hycgan) a palatalized fricative. While these distributions can seem random, they are entirely predictable once the sound changes that produced them are understood. For the purposes of this note, I will begin by following the changes which produced libban, and then apply them to the other verbs in this class.

Most of the forms of libban can be explained by two sound changes: West Germanic gemination, and the devoicing in Old English of the fricative ƀ to f. By the former, when a consonant appeared between a short vowel and a j, the consonant geminated (effectively doubled in length: thus the geminate kk would be pronounced like the ck-c in Modern English black cat). Represented abstractly, the change was: Proto-Germanic SV+C+j > West Germanic SV+CC. This sound change was especially productive in Proto-Germanic Class III Weak Verbs, since they formed most present endings with an *-(i)j- infix (Ringe 256).

The result of this shift was Proto-Germanic *lib(i)janą > West Germanic *libb(i)an. But not all forms of *libb(i)an would have geminated, since *lib(i)janą had at least three inflections where the present stem vowel was formed with *-ai- rather than *-ja-: the second and third person singular *libaisi and *libaiþi, and the second person plural *libaiþ. Referring again to the present forms of Old English libban, we see that these are exactly the forms lacking gemination.[1]

The presence of gemination in these inflections of Old Saxon libbian is likely a result of normalization, resulting in uniform gemination of the present. If we accept this, we find that the inflection of the Old English forms is perfectly predictable: an -(i)j- in a Proto-Germanic inflection will always produce gemination in the corresponding inflection of Old English, while its absence will result in the ungeminated form, accounting for other regular sound changes. In West Germanic this was intervocalic b fricativized to ƀ.

As Old English developed from West Germanic, ƀ was devoiced to f (Fortson 359). This shift affected only the non-geminated forms of *libb(i)an (primarily preterit forms), accounting for the -bb-/-f- variation present in the conjugation of Old English libban. The following table shows reconstructed Proto-Germanic forms along with their Old English and Old Saxon descendants. Note that, as mentioned above, an *-(i)j- infix in the Proto-Germanic[2] form will correspond to gemination in the Old English form, while Old Saxon geminates all present forms.



The inflection of OE habban follows libban. Accounting for the palatalization of geminate -gg- to -cg-,[3] the variations of secgan and hycgan are also perfectly predictable:




Works Cited
Fortson, Benjamin W. Indo-European Language and Culture: An Introduction. Wiley-Blackwell, 2010.
Ringe, Don. From Proto-Indo-European to Proto-Germanic. Oxford Univ. Press, 2008.

[1] Note the alternate OE present plural leofaþ < PGM 2p. pl. *libaiþ.
[2] All Proto-Germanic forms follow Ringe’s reconstructions. See Ringe 256-68.
[3] Compare PGM *agjō > OE ecg, OS eggia.



Currently Reading: For the Life of the World, Alexander Schmemman
Current Audio Book: War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
Currently Translating: Aeneid Book I, Vergil

Friday, April 13, 2018

The Riddles of Gestumblindi: Riddle 6

Here's the answer to Riddle 5:

"Góð er gáta þín, Gestumblindi, getit er þessar. Þat eru smiðbelgir; þeir hafa engan vind, nema þeim sé blásit, ok eru þeir dauðir sem annat smíði, en fyrir þeim má líkt smíða sverð sem annat."

"Good is your riddle, Gestumblindi, but I have guessed it. That is a smith's bellows; they have no breath, unless they are blown, and otherwise they are as dead as any other smith's tools, but by them you may, if you like, forge a sword* as well as another thing."

Riddle 6

Þá mælti Gestumblindi:

"Hvat er þat undra,
er ek úti sá
fyr Dellings durum;
fætr hefir átta,
en fjögur augu
ok berr ofar kné en kvið?
Heiðrekr konungr,
hyggðu at gátu."

Then said Gestumblindi:

"What is that wonder
Which I saw outside
Before Delling's doors?
Of feet it has eight,
And four eyes,
And it bears its knees above its belly?
Heiðrekr king,
Think on this riddle."


*The sword is, of course, the wound-leek referred to in the previous riddle. Wound-leek is a common kenning for a sword.


Currently reading: Homeric Moments
Current audio book: Anubis Gates
Currently translating: Book I of The Aeneid

Friday, April 6, 2018

Between the Downfall and the Deep Blue Sea

If you follow me over on Google+, you know that I am currently working my way through Vergil's Aeneid at a leisurely pace. It's something I've tried once before, but at the time my self-taught Latin wasn't quite enough to see me through the intricacy of Vergil's verse. Since then, though, I have a lot more Latin and a lot more poetry under my belt, so I thought I'd try again.

There are two reasons for this project, if such a project needs any "reason" beyond reading one of the greatest poems ever written in the language in which it was written. The first reason is born simply out of a love of Latin and a deep respect, largely inherited by way of medieval authors, for Vergil as a poet. The second reason is that I have long desired to develop an "ear" for Latin poetry, and I can think of no better way to do it than a long and lingering stroll through the Aeneid.

Today's post is one of the first-fruits of that endeavor. For most of what is here I am deeply indebted to my good friend Tom Hillman of Alas Not Me (the second-best blog on the internet, beaten out very narrowly by A Clerk of Oxford) for correcting my Latin, letting me know I was on the right track, and helping me to look more closely at the grammar of these lines, wherein much of the beauty and intricacy lies.

Consider lines 128-9 of Book I:
disiectam Aeneae toto uidet aequore classem,
fluctibus oppressos Troas caelique ruina;
Very crudely, I might translate these lines as:
He [Neptune] sees Aeneas's scattered fleet over the whole sea,
The Trojans being submerged by the waves and the falling of the sky;
But this translation cannot really do justice to the effect which Vergil achieves by mastery of grammar and word order.

As you probably already know, if you've stuck with me for this long, Latin is an inflected language and therefore has a much more flexible word order than English, and this is doubly true of Latin poetry. That means that word order is, to a much greater extent than it would be for a poet of (Modern) English, a tool in the poet's toolbox which can be used to create a particular effect. This is one of the reasons that I want to read Vergil in Latin: there are things that a translation, no matter how good it is, simply cannot communicate.

Attend, if you will, to the word order of these two lines. At the center of the first line is the verb, uidet "he sees." Anchored on either side of that word is the phrase toto aequore "over the whole sea." But the object of uidet is the "scattered fleet of Aeneas" which is scattered across the line. Aeneas is literally separated from his fleet (classem) by the "whole sea."

The word order of the second line sees the Trojans (Troas) caught between the waves (fluctibus) and the "downfall of the sky" (caelique ruina). Again, the word order of the line reflects the meaning of the line in a way which is difficult to communicate in translation. As Neptune raises up his head out of the water he sees the scattered Trojan fleet caught between the tempest and the waves. Vergil paints a picture for us not only with words, but with word-order.

The word used to describe the Trojan fleet, oppressos, is from the verb opprimo which literally means to "press in" or "press down" (see ModE "oppress"). In the most literal sense the Trojans are being pressed down by the water and the storm--they are being submerged. But opprimo can also carry the sense of "I take by surprise," or "I capture." That's a very pregnant meaning in light of the account that Aeneas will soon give of the capture, by surprise, of the city of Troy. It's also a fitting word to describe the state of the Trojan fleet after Juno's unforeseen assault.

But the real gold here, and this is something for which I am especially grateful to Tom for helping me see, is in the grammar, particularly in the way Vergil weaves the ablative and accusative cases in and out of each other in these two lines. Here they are again. This time, I've put the accusatives in italics, and the ablatives in bold:
disiectam Aeneae toto uidet aequore classem,
fluctibus oppressos Troas caelique ruina;
Do you see that? The first line is end-capped with the accusative phrase disiectam classem; the second line "submerges" all of the accusatives in the middle, weighing each end of the line down with an ablative. If you drew one arc between all of the ablatives and a second arc between all of the accusatives in these two lines, you'd have two waves, undulating like the sea upon which Neptune uidet.

Thursday, March 29, 2018

The Riddles of Gestumblindi: Riddle 5

To begin with, here's the answer to Riddle 4:

"Góð er gáta þín, Gestumblindi, getit er þessar. Þat er hamarr sá, er hafðr er at gullsmíð; hann kveðr hátt við, er hann kemr á harðan steðja, ok þat er hans gata."

"Your riddle is good, Gestumblindi, but I have guessed it. That is a hammer that, as he is being held by a goldsmith, screams loud when he comes down on the hard anvil, and that is his road."

Riddle 5

Þá mælti Gestumblindi:

"Hvat er þat undra,
er ek úti sá
fyr Dellings durum;
ókvikvir tveir
andalausir
sáralauk suðu?
Heiðrekr konungr,
hyggðu at gátu."

Then said Gestumblindi:

"What is that wonder,
That outside I saw
Before Delling's Door*;
Both turning, two
Breathless ones
A wound-leek seethed?
Heiðrekr king,
Think on this riddle."

*This is a difficult kenning. It seems that Dellingr was probably a god, the father of Dagr, the personified day. Dellings durum probably means something like "sunrise." This is the first of a sequence of three riddles which refer to Delling's Door, and there are two more later in the saga. 


Currently Reading: Homeric Moments
Current Audio Book: The Fellowship of the Ring (almost to Rivendell!)
Currently Translating: Vergil's Aeneid

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

The Riddles of Gestumblindi: Riddle 4

If you're just joining us, we're going through the Riddles of Gestumblindi, a passage from Herverar saga in which Oðinn, disguised as a troublesome lord named Gestumblindi, has engaged in a riddling match with king Heiðrekr. This riddle contest may be of particular interest to Tolkien fans, since according to John Rateliff's History of the Hobbit, it is almost certainly the Urtext for the famous "Riddles in the Dark" passage in The Hobbit.

To begin today's post, here's the answer to Riddle 3:

"Góð er gáta þín, Gestumblindi, getit er þessar. Þar lagðist þú í forsælu, er dögg var fallin á grasi, ok kældir svá varir þínar ok stöðvaðir svá þorsta þinn."

"Your riddle is good, Gestumblindi, but I have guessed it. You lay in the shade where dew had fallen on the grass, and with it you cooled your lips and stopped your thirst."

Riddle 4

Þá mælti Gestumblindi:

"Hverr er sá inn hvelli,
er gengr harðar götur
ok hefir hann þær fyrr of farit,
mjök fast kyssir,
sá er hefir munna tvá
ok á gulli einu gengr?
Heiðrekr konungr,
hyggðu at gátu."

Then said Gestumblindi:

"Who is that shrill one,
who walks hard ways
where he has often fared,
many and firm are his kisses
because he has two mouths,
and on gold alone goes?"
Heiðrekr king,
ponder this riddle."

I'll post the answer, along with the next riddle, later this week. In the meantime, you like Heiðrekr can ponder this riddle!


Currently reading: Homeric Moments
Current audio book: The Fellowship of the Ring
Currently translating: Otfrid's Evangelienbuch

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

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