Unmarked loanwords in Tscheremissisches Wörterbuch

In Tscheremissisches Wörterbuch known loanwords in Mari are usually noted as such, e.g. “taɣaWidder, Hammel, Schafbock’ [< Tschuw.]”, “pülẟaremfordern, verlangen’ [< Tat.]”. By going through the dictionary and compiling a list of unetymologized words, I’ve been able to propose a few new etymologies that hopefully will be published eventually. However, one must tread cautiously, as a few loanwords are left unmarked even when they have long been recognized as such.

One of these is the Mari word for ‘frog, toad’, listed under the headword užaβa with a great deal of dialectal variation. This bears a striking resemblance to Russian жаба id. Indeed, I turned to Savatkova’s Русские заимствования в марийском языке, and the loanword is included in the great big Russian–Mari index at the back (namely on page 95).

MariE taɣarl’aein kleiner Vogel’ is a borrowing of Tat. täkärlek, as recognized already by Räsänen in his Die tatarischen Lehnwörter im Tscheremissischen of 1923, p. 65. The word may have come into Mari through Chuvash mediation on account of the voiced velar spirant if one supposes that Mari did not take it from a Tatar dialect that voiced the velar, but that would still have merited writing “[< Tschuw./Tat.]” next to this headword like with other doubtful items, such as purlogräulich’.

Article on hitherto unidentified Mari items in Pallas’s Vocabularia comparativa

Linguistica Uralica 2016:3 is out, and in it is my article “On some hitherto unidentified Mari items in the ‘Vocabularia comparativa’ of P. S. Pallas” (PDF). Here’s the abstract followed by the considerably more detailed Russian-language summary:

The ”Linguarum Totius Orbis Vocabularia comparativa” of Peter Simon Pallas published in 1787—1789 is a prominent early record of the Mari language, containing Mari translations of 273 Russian headwords.This material has been examined by Thomas A. Sebeok in an ample commentary published in 1960, and by Alho Alhoniemi two decades later, but they were unable to identify all words. Using recent lexical resources on Mari and studies of the original manuscripts, the present contribution identifies further words and corrects some errors in earlier interpretations. The result is a more complete picture of Pallas and 18th-century Mari.

«Сравнительный словарь всех языков и наречий» П. С. Палласа, изданный в 1787–1789 годах, является выдающейся ранней записью марийского языка, содержащей марийские переводы 273 русских заглавных слов. Этот материал был исследован Т. А. Себеоком в его обширном комментарии, опубликованном в 1960 г., а затем А. Алхониеми, почти двадцать лет спустя. Оба ученых не смогли однако распознать всех марийских слов содержащихся в этом словаре. С помощью современных лексических источников по марийскому языку, а также благодаря изучению рукописных словарей являвшихся источником для Палласа, автор статьи расшифровал некоторые из ранее неидентифицированных слов, а именно: Ирла́ ‘боль’ = MariE (Большой Кильмез) irla ‘ворчать’; Шу́идабу́и ‘власть’ = MariE šüδə̑βuj ‘сотник’; Чюмышта́ ‘ростъ’ = MariE č́ə̑memčəmem ‘натянуть’; Шитешь ‘ростъ’ = MariE šə̑tem W Nw šətä ‘прорастать’; (Чумра)тырмышь ‘шаръ’ = MariE tə̑rtə̑štərtəš ‘шар’; Пыла́мирь ‘буря’ = MariE pulamə̑r ‘беспорядок, смута, раздор’; Садиги ‘паръ’ = MariE saδə̑γe ‘так, таким образом’; Муней ‘колъ’ = MariE (Большой Кильмез) munej ‘жаба’; Кунзя ‘судно’ = MariE (Малмыж) kunźə̑ ‘воз’; Чипталмаш ‘брань’ = MariE č́ə̑ptalaš ‘нападать’; Пилнышь ‘побѣда’ = MariE pə̑lnaš ‘слабеть’; Шурть ‘китъ’ = MariE šə̑rt Nw šərt ‘злой дух’; Всерсе ‘послѣ’ = MariE βarase ‘последний (только что появившийся)’; Умсысь ‘безъ (кромѣ)’ = MariE umsə̑z ‘безумный’. В статье также отмечено, что бяи ‘въ’ – это возможно удмуртское слово, ошибочно упомянутое как марийское. Результат настоящего исследования дает лучшее понимание словаря Палласа, а также марийского языка XVIII века, несмотря на то, что 17 марийских слов из словаря Палласа по-прежнему остаются неясными.

Contraction as a source of Meadow Mari a in an inherited Uralic word

In his article “The Finnic ‘secondary e-stems’ and Proto-Uralic vocalism”, published in the 2015 issue of Journal de la Société Finno-ougrienne, Ante Aikio presents a new set of related Uralic items involving Mari: [Proto-Uralic] *woja/i ‘wild (animal)’ || MariW wojǝr | Komi vej | KhVVj wajǝɣ (< PKh *wājǝɣ) | MsSo ūj (< PMs *ūj) (UEW: 553). — The Mari word has not been previously been included in this cognate set.

I had formerly noted down MariW βojə̑r, drawn from Tscheremissisches Wörterbuch, in my big collection of unetymologized Mari words, so now with Aikio’s observation I must strike it from the list. What is interesting, however, is that the word is apparently attested in literary Meadow Mari, as well, but under the form вар ‘wild, running wild (after confinement)’. If this is the same word, then the originally two-syllable word has undergone contraction, producing an initial-syllable /a/, not something one generally expects from inherited Uralic material.

I know from Oleg Sergeev’s description that Zemljanitsky’s dictionary, compiled in the 1870s, has воеръ ‘дикий’. Unfortunately, Zemljanitsky’s dictionary contains words drawn from both Hill Mari and Meadow Mari forms, and Sergeev fails to make clear if this particular item was accompanied by any indication as to its origin (as some entries in the dictionary do specify Hill or Meadow Mari). Thus, it is presently impossible to know whether an uncontracted MariE βojə̑r did exist until recently, without going through the challenging process of examining the original manuscript in situ. It is extremely urgent that the Mari manuscript dictionaries in Russian state collections be digitized.

(For information on Zemljanitsky’s dictionary and the presence of this item in it, see O. A. Sergeev’s article “Рукописный словарь марийского языка Земляницкого” in Советское финно-угроведенеие XXIV No. 4 (1988), pp. 292–295).

MariE tolašemtalašem ‘try hard, strive’ < Tatar talaš

One of the frustrations of working with Tscheremissiches Wörterbuch is that some Mari items are labeled Tschuw. or Tat., but the exact source is not specified and sometimes one has to dig a little to determine the original Chuvash or Tatar word.

A case in point is MariE tolašemtalašemsich bestreben, eilen, irgwendwie zu tun versuchen’. This is marked as a Tatar loanword in TschWb, and the word is clearly of Turkic origin since it has a causitive derivational form MariE tolaštaremtalaštarem. I turned to my dictionary of literary Kazan Tatar, the Татарско-русский словарь (Казань: Мәгариф, 2007), and found a phonetic match: талашу. However, the meanings ‘сспориться, скандалить, переругиваться’ of this verb and its derivational forms were not close enough to the Mari verb to satisfy.

If my Tatar dictionary doesn’t help for a Turkic loanword in Mari, the next stop is a Chuvash one. Ashmarin’s Thesaurus Linguae Tschuvaschorum contains a verb corresponding to the Tatar one and almost certainly a borrowing of it, namely tulaş, and the first meanings mentioned are the same as for the Tatar: ‘беситься, злиться, грызться’. However, buried deeper down in the entry is the meaning we’re looking for: возиться, стараться. This is an understandable extension of the Turkic root tal-, the basic meaning of which is ‘to force; to take by force’.

Thus Mari and Chuvash preserve a meaning of the Tatar word that seems to have died out among Kazan Tatars. Interestingly, Russian too borrowed this Tatar word dialectally and uses it in a similar sense, or at least it did in the 19th century: a verb талашитьсясуетиться, толочься, метаться’ is attested from the Tambov region in the Толковый словарь Даля, compiled by Vladimir Ivanovich Dal’ and published in 1863–1866.

Incidentally, had I carefully examined the Mari–English Dictionary instead of basing myself solely on Tscheremissiches Wörterbuch, then I could have figured out this etymology more quickly, because one of the meanings of MariE lit. толашаш is ‘to quarrel, to squabble, to bicker’, and that meaning is not found in TschWb. However, the Mari–English Dictionary, being a general literary-language reference and not a dialect dictionary, does not list the origin of the item, and I wonder if the word in that meaning was found only in Eastern Mari communities under heavy Tatar influence before the rise of the literary language, and only the meaning ‘try hard, strive’ is pan-Mari.

Inexplicably unproposed Uralic etymologies

There are resemblances between some Mari words and items in other Uralic languages that are extremely blatant and yet, to my knowledge, have gone uncommented. That’s not to say that an etymological link is tenable, but one would expect the UEW or other general references to at least note and shoot down some prior attempt to relate the given words. Why have the following not been compared before, even in the heady early 20th century when standards were relatively lax?

  • Finnish salama ‘lightning’ ~ MariE šolem ‘hail’. Yes, there’s a difference in meaning, but it’s not unusual for words denoting weather conditions to shift semantically, e.g. MariE jür ‘rain’ < Cv. yur ‘snow’. I suppose the difficulty here is that MariW šolem doesn’t show /a/ as some might have earlier expected in a word from *salama. However, it does agree with a formulation by Ante Aikio that Proto-Mari *o appears before *l if the word does not begin with a glide.
  • Finnish pakkanen ‘frost’ ~ MariE W pokšə̑m ‘frost’
  • Russian леньгас ‘loafer’, Estonian lõngus ‘lout’ ~ MariE laŋga ‘lazy’. Paul Ariste connected the first two in a 1966 paper, even mentioning some Finnish words, but he didn’t mention the Mari at all even though it’s there staring one in the face.
  • MariE W paŋga ‘lump’ ~ Udmurt pog id. One would have thought the Mari would be included in the UEW (404) under *puŋkaKnollen, Beuele, Unebenheit’, as similar forms from across Uralic are listed there. MariE paŋga is in Paasonen’s dictionary, so it’s not like earlier researchers could have been unaware of this word. Even if one would prefer to see the Mari as a loan on account of its first-syllable *a, it’s curious that Bereczki didn’t include it in his 1992 list of Permian or Udmurt loanwords in Mari.

Mari /ŋ/ represented by Cyrillic <н>

In attestations of the Mari language from the 18th-century, Mari /ŋ/ tends to be represented with the Cyrillic letter <н>. Lots of manuscripts represent MariE jeŋ ‘person’ as <ен>, for instance. For more examples, see Alhoniemi’s 1979 commentary on the Mari wordlist of P. S. Pallas.

A colleague of mine found this odd, as he would have expected the sequence <нг>. Yet, denoting the sound [ŋ] in the same way as another single consonant has a long history. Consider Greek where the sequence [ŋg] is always spelled <-γγ->. Also, a samoyedologist once told me of a foreign colleague (Japanese, if I recall correctly) who kept hearing Nenets /ŋ/ as /g/; his ears simply couldn’t pick up on the nasal property of the consonant.

But if historically /ŋ/ has been confused by other peoples as either /n/ or /g/, the question remains why these Russian (and Russia-resident German) wordlist compilers constantly denoted Mari /ŋ/ with the symbol for /n/ and never for /g/. One reason for this may be that the compilers were already using Cyrillic <г> to represent Mari /ɣ/, which is a fricative, not a stop. Since the only other voiced velar sound in the language was a fricative, the velar stop /ŋ/ was heard as the closest stop to it: /n/.

But in the neighbouring Udmurt language, where the /g/ is a stop, not a fricative, 18th-century compilers still denoted /ŋ/ with the same symbol for /n/. D. G. Messerschmidt’s wordlist, which has been reprinted with a commentary by V. V. Napolskikh, has <Gurpuhn> for Udmurt dial. gurpuŋ ‘heron, stork’. (Note, however, how Messerschmidt denotes the sequence [ŋg] in <Ning-goron> for Udmurt dial. ńiŋgoron ‘woman’.)

So what else in these Uralic languages and in the native languages of these Russian and German compilers could have motivated the choice of the letter usually denoting /n/ and not the letter for /g/? Something worth thinking about.

Four levels of politeness in 17th-century Spanish

One of the more interesting books that I’ve read lately is Christopher J. Pountain’s A History of the Spanish Language Through Texts (London: Routledge, 2001). For the so-called Golden Age of Spanish literature, Pountain especially chooses texts by standardization-minded authors who inadvertently offer many details of the popular speech of their time. The following passage from Gonzalo de Correas’s Arte de la lengua española castellana (1625) suggests a much more complex system than the one found in Peninsular Spanish today, which is down to just tu and usted (and when I moved to Spain in the early millennium, I was urged to use usted much more sparingly than foreigners – on the basis of learning materials from Latin America – usually feel they should).

Devese tanbien mucho notar la desorden, i discordante concordia, que á introduzido el uso, ora por modestia, ora por onrra, ò adulazion. Para lo qual es menester primero advertir, que se usan quatro diferenzias de hablar para quatro calidades de personas, que son: vuestra merzed, él, vos, tu… De merzed usamos llamar à las personas à quien rrespetamos, i debemos ò queremos dar onrra, como son: xuezes, cavalleros, eclesiasticos, damas, i xente de capa negra, i es lo mas despues de señoria. Él usan los maiores con el que no quieren darle merzed, ni tratarle de vos, que es mas baxo, i propio de amos à criados, i la xente vulgar i de aldea, que no tiene uso de hablar con merzed, llama de él al que quiere onrrar de los de su xaez. De vos tratamos à los criados i mozos grandes, i à los labradores, i à personas semexantes; i entre amigos adonde no ai gravedad, ni cunplimiento se tratan de vos, i ansien rrazonamientos delante de rreies i dirixidos à ellos se habla de vos con devido rrespeto i uso antiguo. De tu se trata à los muchachos i menores de la familia, i à los que se quisieren bien: i quando nos enoxamos i rreñimos con alguno le tratamos de él, i de vos por desdén. Supuesto lo dicho, en las tres diferenzias primeras de hablar de merzed, él, vos, se comete solezismo en la gramatica i concordanzias contra la orden natural de las tres personas, xeneros i numeros.

The disorder and disconcordant concord which usage has introduced, whether through modesty, respect or adulation, should also be noted. For this it is necessary, first, to state that four different ways of speech are used for four qualities of person, namely: vuestra merzed, él, vos, tu … We usually call people we respect by merzed, such as judges, gentry, clergy, ladies and black cape people, and it is the highest after señoría. Él is used by older people for someone they do not wish either to call merzed or address as vos, which is lower, and typical of masters to servants; and common and village people, who are not accustomed to using merzed in their speech, address as él people to whom they want to show respect from their class. We call servants and grown up boys vos, and labourers, and such like people; and among friends where there is no gravity nor ceremony vos is used, and so in speeches made in front of kings and addressed to them vos is used with due respect and old usage. Children, younger members of the family and loved ones are called ; and when we get angry and quarrel with someone we call them él, and vos to disparage them. Bearing in mind the foregoing, in the first three of speaking (merzed, él, vos) there are violations of grammar and agreement against the natural order of three persons, gender and number.

One wonders how much this system was really agreed upon by all, and how much it was an idealization of shifting norms across time and space. The Hungarian I learned from Zsuzsa Pontifex’s Teach Yourself Hungarian back in the 1990s seemed to present a straightforward four-level system too: te, maga, Ön, tetszik. However, foreign learners are told very quickly that maga has been on the way out for decades, and if used today is just as likely to be pejorative as it is to tend towards showing respect. In other descriptions, the tetszik address is either replaced by another form of address, or a fifth level is added to the system.

Similarly, of the four-level system I’ve often heard proposed for Romanian – tu, dumneata, dumneavoastră, domnul/doamna – the second is rarely heard in Transylvania and the last is only heard from waiters at high-class restaurants who are clearly aping the French experience.

Жгонский язык

While trawling back issues of the journal Sovetskoye Finno-Ugrovidenija for interesting reading on Mari, I came across a Russian dialect I had never heard of before, and which seems virtually unknown on the English-speaking web. As S. M. Strel’nikov writes in his 1978 article “Марийские элементы в жгонском языке” (Mari elements in zhgonsky jazyk):

Жгонским языком (от жгон ’шерстобит’) называют свой условный язык русские ремесленники Костромской области (пимокаты и портные), в недалеком прошлом занимавшиеся отхожим промыслом во многих губерниях России. Хотя численность носителей жгонского языка сокращается, его и сейчас помнят лица пожилого возраста во многих насееленных пунктах Нейского, Мантуровского, Макарьевского районов Костромской области, Варнавинского и Ветлужского районов Горьковской области.

Zhgonsky jazyk (from zhgon “woolspinner”) is the name by which Russian craftsmen in the Kostroma district (bootmakers and tailors) refer to their language; these craftsmen in the not-so-distant past were engaged in seasonal labor in many parts of Russia. Although the number of speakers of zhgonsky jazyk has declined, it is still remembered by elderly people in many settlements in the Ney, Manturov, and Makaryev regions of the Kostroma district, and in the Barnavin and Vetluga regions of the Gorsky district.

This language was an argot, meant to allow these craftsmen to communicate in secret when traveling about. Certainly the examples provided in this article are completely incomprehensible without glosses, e.g. Ши́до в плеха́нку пови́титься сохля́ть ‘I’ve got to head to the steam bath to wash’, Декни́ приты́лить ‘Give me a smoke’.

While zhgonsky jazyk drew on other languages such as Udmurt, German, Greek and Turkish, the Mari stock is prominent and Strel’nikov suggests that this argot arose on the basis of interaction between Russians and speakers of Northwestern Mari. Some zhgonsky jazyk words of Mari origin concern the numbers (e.g. ны́лик ‘4’ < MariNW nəl, канда́йша ‘8’ < MariNW kändäŋš) and weather (уре́ж ‘rain’ < MariNW jur, ю́кша ‘cold, winter’ < MariNW jükšem). Strel’nikov identifies altogether 44 items as derived from Mari, and some of them have gone amusing shifts in meaning as is common in these sorts of secret languages.

The two versions of Sergeev’s monograph on Mari manuscripts

O. A. Sergeev has dedicated much of his career to examining 18th and 19th-century manuscript word lists of the Mari language. In 2000 the Mari state press published his Mari-language overview of these treasures under the title Тошто марий мутер-влак.Cover of O. A. Sergeev’s 2000 publication Тошто марий мутер-влак In 2002, from the same publisher, his Russian-language monograph entitled Истоки марийской письменности appeared.

At a brief glance, one may be inclined to view the 2002 publication as simply a Russian translation of the original Mari-language work. Indeed, the table of contents is virtually identical; the two works discuss the same manuscripts in the same order, and then contain the same overall analysis of the materials from various perspectives. However, as I discovered in the course of my own research on Pallas’s Mari word list while initially using only the 2000 publication, there are differences between the two versions that mean that anyone looking into the history of Mari ought to go through both of them.

As an example, let’s consider Sergeev’s description of the manuscript Эрм. 577 №, инв. 802 held in the Russian National Library. The 2000 publication reads (pp. 35–36):

Ты очымо рукописят XVIII курым дене кылдалтын. Чылаже тудо 54 лаштык гыч шога. Рукопись марий-влакын илыме верла гыч Санкт-Петербургышто ямдылыме “Сравительный словарь всех языков и наречий” мутерлан колтымо материалжылан шотлалтеш. Каласаш кӱлеш: мутерысе шомак-влакым Российысе кугыжа Екатерина II шкеак возен. Кажне лаштык ик мут гыч шога, вара ты руш йылмысе шомакым “инородный” йылмылаш кусарыме. Марий йылмысе мут-влак 12-шо № дене пуалтыныт. Тылеч посна моло родо-тукым да пошкудо йылме-влакат улыт. Мутлан, 9-ше № дене эстон йылме кая, 10-шо № дене — удмурт, 11-ше № дене — чуваш йылме вераҥыныт.

Руш йылмысе мут-влак кӱшнӧ ончымо тыгаяк 286 реестре дене икгаяк улыт. Тылеч посна ик ойыртем уло: ты памятникыште руш йылме деч посна церковнославянский йылмын кышаже палдырна. Мултнан: вуй ’голова, глава’, шиндза ’глаз, око’, юкше ’стужа, холод, хлад’, молат. Руш йылмысе глагол, слово, речь шомак-влак марий йылмыш ик ’шомак’ мут дене кусаралтыныт.

17 мут деч моло шомак пелен ударенийым палемдыме.

Мут шагал умылан кӧра рукописьын могай наречий (але говор) негызеш ышталтмыжым каласаш неле.

The description in the 2002 publication (pp. 43–44) doesn’t mention that the Mari words are glossed in both Russian and Church Slavonic, and the presence of a particular Mari word for ‘cold’ is left out:

В данной рукописи хранятся материалы дла “Сравителного словаря всех языков и наречий”, написанные собственноручно Екатериной II. Итого — 54 л. Каждый лист содержит по одному заглавному слову, которое переведенно на “инородные” языки, напр., под № 12 даны марийские параллели, под № 9 — эстонские, под № 10 — удмуртские, под № 11 — чувашские и т. д. Реестр совпадает со словником 286 заглавных русских слов. Далее дается список 286 “черных” слов без перевода на “инородческие” языки.

Лексемы глагол, слово, речь переведены на марийский язык одним словом: шомакъ.

На лексемах, за исключением отдельных слов (17), поставлено ударение.

Скудный материал памятника не позволяет определить его диалектную основу.

For another manuscript, the 2002 publication mentions a misunderstanding between the Mari informant and the compiler of the word list with regard to the motion verb mijaš, which had not been discussed in the 2000 book. And in the general overview of the manuscripts, where Sergeev points out how some compilers offer a series of synonyms, the list in the Russian translation on page 69 cites fewer items than the 2000 original on page 69.

One might think these small differences, but one man’s small difference may be another’s vital piece of information.

The curious Mari word шнуй šnuj ‘holy’

The first time I ever came across Meadow Mari шнуй šnuj ‘holy’, I was quite struck by the word. It resembles nothing in Chuvash, Tatar or Russian, but the initial consonant cluster means that it cannot be a native Mari word.

While used in the modern literary language, the word is notably missing from the dialectal dictionaries compiled by late 19th-century or early 20th-century fieldworkers. As far as I can tell, the first dictionary to include the word is V. M. Vasil’ev’s Марий Мутэр (Moscow, 1926), where it is glossed ‘святой’ with the example sentence Шнуй пийал дэнэ йумо ий мучашы̆м шуйа маны̆т. The word is not present in the 1956 Mari–Russian dictionary, possibly on account of the anti-religious edicts of the time, but it is found in the 1991 Mari–Russian dictionary and the 10-volume Словарь марийского языка, where it seems to have long become an established feature of the literary language.

An initial cluster is also found in Eastern Mari spaj ‘beautiful, graceful’, a loan from Tatar zipa, in turn from Persian zibā (see Paasonen’s Ost-Tscheremissisches Wörterbuch pp. 112–113), so I looked for some Turkic or Perso-Arabic word of a similar shape for šnuj, but I eventually gave up. As the word has generally been overlooked in discussions of Mari etymology, there the matter rested for some time.

However, I recently saw that Raija Bartens took a look at šnuj in her paper “Marilaista Isä meidän–rukouksen käännöksistä”, a contribution to the Festschrift for Seppo Suhonen Oekeeta asijoo (Helsinki: Suomalais-Ugrilainen Seura, 1998). In coming across šnuj in her survey of Mari translations of the Lord’s Prayer through the ages, Bartens was just as baffled by the word was I was. Noting that it is used only in Christian contexts, Bartens asks if it isn’t simply a corruption of Russian священный.

Oddly, in his История марийского литературного языка (p. 137), I. G. Ivanov lists this word among terminology from the Mari pagan religion that fell out of active use during the rise of the Mari literary language. Not only was this word not used for Mari paganism, but it is the rise of the literary language in the 20th century that propelled this word from some extremely obscure origin to common use by Meadow Mari-speaking writers everywhere.