Irish Language Blog

(le Róislín)

Stretching from Céadaoin an Spiaire to Máirt Chásca, there are enough special days surrounding Easter to give a specific Irish name for each day of the week.  Since there are already several forms for each day, aside from Easter usage, let’s look at them grouped together in a chart.  That will enable us to focus on changes like initial mutation (séimhiú, urú), h-prefixation, and endings (an tuiseal ginideach)

Even for ordinary purposes, each day has at least two forms, one for the day as a subject or concept (like “An Luan,” Monday, lit. “the” Monday) and one used to say when something is happening (like “Dé Luain,” lit. “on the day of” Monday).

This chart has four columns, the first one giving forms that would rarely occur on their own.  For these, I have followed the linguistic practice of putting a réiltín in front of them.  It’s not that these forms are completely hypothetical (as we might find in historical linguistic reconstruction), it’s just that they would almost always be part of a two-word phrase, sometimes an even longer phrase.  From this “root,” we get the subject form (An Luan), and, by following genitive case rules, we get the preposition form (Dé Luain).  Hmmm, you might ask, why genitive case (possessive) rules when using a preposition phrase?  It’s because “Dé,” when preceding a day of the week, functions as a preposition but is really a noun.  This “Dé” comes from the word “dia” (note lower-case), which is an alternate word for “day” in Irish, now somewhat archaic, or, we could say, fossilized.  This process is much like what happens with “cois” in the phrase “cois na tine,” where “cois” (from “cos,” foot, leg) is really a noun but functions like a preposition, resulting in the meaning “by the fire” (lit. “at the foot of the fire”).

Some of the words in the chart will also be changed if they’re in a prepositional phrase starting with “ar an,” as in “ar an gCéadaoin” (lit. on “the” Wednesday).  Ulster Irish will have lenition in these cases (Chéadaoin).

Unlike “lá,” which seems to be unique in the Indo-European panorama of languages (except for Scottish Gaelic “latha” and Manx “laa”), the word “dia”/”dé” is a cognate to other European words for “day,” such as “dies,” “dydd,” “tag,” and even “day” itself (plus, less directly, “jour” from Latin “diurnus”).  So, somewhat unusually, the word “lá” isn’t used in the names of the days of the week.  But you probably noticed that already!

The “dia” form of “day” also shows up in the old spellings of the Irish words for “today” and “yesterday,” which are “indiu” and “indé.”

So here’s the chart.  Hope you find it helpful.  There are additional notes for three of the terms below.

1) Although it’s not often explicitly stated, “Dé” is not needed before “Déardaoin” because it’s already built into the word.  Having said that, a recent Google search brought up about 300 hits for “Déardaoin” with “Dé” in front of it!  Either the usage is changing, or these are all just slip-ups.  Bhur mbarúlacha, a léitheoirí?

2)  I noted last year (http://blogs.transparent.com/irish/?s=Eastertide) that I found no instances of “Máirt Chásca” being used online for “Easter Tuesday,” but, interestingly, this year I found three hits.  The three are duplicates (sigh!) and all refer to the founding of the Kilkenny branch of the Gaelic League in 1897.  However else the phrase may be used or not used, it’s interesting to note this designation as opposed to just saying “April 20^th,” which was the date of Easter Tuesday in 1897, if http://www.easterbunny.com/date-of-easter/easter-date-for-1897.html serves me right.  Go raibh maith agat, a Choinín Cásca!  An ceann ponc com, that is!

Of course, there is a long-standing tradition in both Irish and British writing of dating certain events by referring to a holiday, instead of a date, as in the réamhráite of “An Fear Eagair,” in Myles na gCopaleen’s parody An Béal Bocht being written on “Lá an Ghátair” [Day of Distress] and “Lá an Luain” [Day of Doom].  Or, more straightforwardly, the preface to C. S. Lewis’s That Hideous Strength, dated “Christmas Eve, 1943.”  It’s not a practice I’ve seen used much in American literature.

As for the general significance of Easter Tuesday, as noted last year, I still see it listed as a public holiday in just one place, An Tasmáin.  There it is described as a “restricted public holiday currently observed by certain awards/agreements and the State Public Service (http://www.wst.tas.gov.au/employment_info/public_holidays).  Suimiúil!  A New Zealand site (http://www.principalskit.org.nz/support-staff/) discusses Easter Tuesday as a potential holiday for employees of New Zealand Educational Institute, but they must have served 10 years and they must incorporate it into their annual leave.  I don’t quite get that last bit, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.  Suffice it to say that Easter Tuesday may have greater recognition elsewhere than seems apparent in 21^st-century America.  Many American school districts simply make their Spring Break surround Easter and avoid all discussion as to whether the break has anything to do with Easter at all.

3)  There are plenty of references to the Wednesday before Easter being called “Céadaoin an Spiaire” (Wednesday of the Spy) in Irish, but for “Céadaoin Naofa” (the presumed form for “Holy Wednesday”), my search online turned up one questionable reference (in a very mixed-up hybrid site) and in dictionaries I found nothing.  As I understand it, the term “Spy Wednesday” has been changed to “Holy Wednesday,” but I simply don’t find much evidence of this usage in Irish and I also can’t find an exact year for the change.  Vatican II?  If it were that long ago, I’d expect to find more evidence of “Céadaoin Naofa” online.  Maybe I’m just barking up the wrong tree, but between Google searches, online dictionaries and hard-copy dictionaries, I usually find some evidence of what I’m looking for, vocabulary-wise.  Of course, I always try to build on what I’ve heard and read in everyday usage for years, but I do like to check these sources for more specific information.  Btw, I also found nothing under the old spelling, which would be “Céadaoin Naomhtha,” but of course, the formal date of the change, assuming there is one, might preclude that.  Hmmm.  Lenited and eclipsed versions of the above?  Amas ar bith!  (No hits) and no luck in dictionaries.  Sin sin go dtí an bhliain seo chugainn, is dócha.

And, last but not least, a bit of Google-based trivia that some of you may find amusing as I did.  When I tried searching for “Máirt Chásca” without comharthaí athfhriotail and without sínte fada, the first hit (of 7,360,000!) that came up was for the K-Mart in Chaska, Minnesota.  Wonders never cease!  On that bemused note, SGF, Róislín

P.S. Anyone still wondering about the phrase “Aimsir na Cásca”?  Why “weather”?  Answer: here it’s not “weather.”  “Aimsir” can mean “time,” “tense,” or “tide” in the sense of “time.”  So “Aimsir na Cásca” is “Eastertide.”

(le Róislín)

The last few blogs have dealt pretty intensely with meaning and slight differences among comhainmneacha (synonyms).  Here we’ll look at a much more down-to-earth aspect of some of the same words – how to say them.  We’ll look at a few of the longer and more complex ones (tláithíneacht, neamhghontacht, m. sh.) but we’ll also look at some shorter, more basic words that illustrate some major points of Irish pronunciation, some from the blogs and others from general vocabulary.  Some samples will involve the widespread Irish phenomena of lenition (séimhiú) and eclipsis (urú), but we’ll also look such specific issues as lenited sounds in the middle or at the end of words and also some vowel sounds.  Like most blog-length approaches to this topic, though, this is just barr an chnoic oighir (or rinn an oighearchnoic, or the “bior” thereof, if you prefer).

I. Lenition (séimhiú, lit. softening)

Lenition of initial consonants occurs for over a dozen reasons in Irish, so I’ll just focus on a few here.  Lenition is generally marked by the insertion of the letter “h” after the initial consonant (cat becoming chat, m.sh.)

a. After the numbers 2 through 6, except for, well, na heisceachtaí (the exceptions)

Ceithre fhocal [KyEH-ruh OK-ul], four words

Cúig fhrása [KOO-ig RAW-suh], five phrases

Exceptions include some (but not all) units of measurement: ceithre bliana, sé seachtainí

b. Directly after some (but not all) prepositions, some, but not all of the time (a chapters’s worth of issues there!)

Gan mhaith [gahn wah], useless, lit. without good, but “gan tús gan deireadh” (the d and t resistance)

Compare: ó Bhéal Feirste (from Belfast; lenition) but “go Béal Feirste” (to Belfast; no lenition)

Nóta: I say “directly” here because the entire set-up changes if words like “an” or “mo” are present.  Blag eile!

c. Marking nouns that are “possessed,” either literally (Jimmy’s coat) or more abstractly (often involving compound prepositions like “de réir” or “os cionn”)

Let’s start with some real workhorse examples, not from the recent blog series: cóta Shéamais, seomra Shiobhán, iníon Mháire, madra Chaitlín.  Some basic examples of the compound preposition “os cionn” are os cionn an bhoird (above the table, normally “bord“) and os cionn an gharáiste (above the garage, normally “garáiste“)

Looking at our recent blogs, we don’t have to go any farther than the title of the series for “de réir“:

de réir Fhionntán Uí Thuathail [… IN-tawn ee HOO-uh-hil, note that the “f” of “Fhionntán” is silent, as are the “t’s” of “Thuathail”]

Note that if we didn’t include the surname, the spelling and pronunciation of “Fintan” would change  slightly: de réir Fhionntáin [… IN-taw-in, with the “taw” and “in” running together very smoothly], this means “according to Fintan.”  Likewise: de réir Mharcais [WAR-kish], de réir Mhatha [WAH-huh] (according to Mark/Matthew)

Lenition also occurs after “Uí” in surnames, which is also an aspect of possession, albeit very abstract:

carr Uí Thuathail [… ee HOO-uh-hil, as above], O’Toole’s car, the car of Ó Tuathail

Sráid Uí Chonaill [srawdj ee KHON-ill], O’Connell St.

Bean Uí Mhurchú [ban ee WUR-uh-khoo], Mrs. Murphy, lit. the wife/woman of Ó Murchú

There are many more situations in which lenition occurs, but that’s a sample, for now.

2. Eclipsis (urú, lit. eclipsing): adding a new initial consonant and obscuring the pronunciation of the original one

a. After the preposition “i” (in)

i gcrobhaing [ig-ROW-ing, the syllables more or less run together], in a cluster.  In this transcription, “row” is as in “row-boat,” not as in “a row” (the latter being the “row” often paired with “ruction,” thanks to Tim Finnegan)

i mbannaí [im-AHN-ee], bail, as in “ag dul i mbannaí air” (to go bail for him)

This also occurs, of course, with many place names, like

i mBaile Átha Cliath [im AHL-yuh KLEE-uh], in Dublin, with the middle word “Átha” basically swallowed into oblivion

i mBostún [im OST-oon], in Boston

b. With plural nouns in the genitive case, following the definite article “na”

tráth na gcomhainmneacha [traw nuh GOH-AN-yim-nyukh-uh], the time of the synonyms (“Synonym Time,” structured like “Tráth na gCeist” [… nuh gesht], which some of you may recognize from the popular quiz name)

This structure also occurs in many widely used phrases like “leabhair na gcailíní” and in a lot of place names like “Dún na nGall” [doon ung awl], Donegal, and “Baile na mBacach” [… nuh MAHK-ukh], Ballynamockagh (Co. Galway).  In the latter, the anglicized version reflects what has happened to the initial “b” of “bacach” – it has been eclipsed and only the “m” sound is pronounced.

III. Lenited sounds in the middle of a word

One good thing about this feature of Irish pronunciation is that it rarely changes.  Once a word has such a sound medially, it will usually remain intact no matter what other changes may happen at the beginning or the end of the word.  Here are some examples from the recent blogs:

diabhal [DJEE-uh-wul OR djowl], devil, with the “bh” approximating a “w” sound

le haghaidh [leh hai], for.  The “-gh-“ in the middle is silent, serving simply to give us an /ai/ sound for the vowel, pretty much the same vowel as in English “I,” “eye,” “my,” “pie” and “guide” (and now you can see why none of these English words is a good basis for a pronunciation guide).  In other words, “haghaidh” is pretty much like the English greeting “Hi!”  And btw, the vowel sound in this “le” isn’t at all like the French “le” (the) but it’s like the short “e” of “let” or “pet”

neamhghontacht [NYOW- γON-tukht] non-pithiness, probably not as commonly used as the positive form of this word, gontacht [GON-tukht], pithiness, but certainly there are possible usages, and it’s a nice example of four consonants in a row, due to lenition.  The final “-mh” makes the “-ea-“ vowel an “ow” sound (as in “cow,” or “ouch”).  The “g” of “gontacht” is lenited after the prefix “neamh-“ (non-, un-); linguistically, it is the voiced velar fricative that I’ve discussed elsewhere (Treoir don Treoir: A Guide to the Guide (for Pronunciation), Cuid a 2 (27 Iúil 2010), which is dedicated to the voiced velar fricative sound, and An Ghaeilge sa Leabhar _Galway Bay_: “Guilpín,” “Grá” agus Go Leor Eile (2 Mí na Samhna 2009), which discusses this sound in a few terms of endearment, such as “A ghrá!” and “A ghrá mo chroí!”

tarrtháil [TAR-haw-il], saving, bailout; the medial “th” is just pronounced “h”

tláithíneacht [TLAW-heen-yukht], mealy-mouthedness, soft-spokenness, wheedling, flattery, cf. tláith, weak; again, the medial “th” is just pronounced “h”

IV. Lenited sounds at the end of a word (usually very softened or silenced)

maith [mah], good, as in “gan mhaith” [gahn wah], without good (useless, etc.)

le haghaidh [leh hai], for.  We’ve mostly discussed this above, but note that the “-dh” of “haghaidh” is completely silent

V. Pronunciation of final “e’s” in Irish (as opposed to English)

In words like “déine,” the final “e” is never considered silent, although it may be barely audible or inaudible, if followed by another vowel.  For example, déine [DJAYN-yuh], austerity and déine an tsaoil [djayn yun teel], the harshness of life.  If one is articulating very carefully, the final “-e” and the “an” can be distinguished [DJAYN-yuh un teel]

VI. Which vowel is pronounced when there are two or three vowels in a row?

This could take several blogs to answer, but to pick just a few examples:

íobairt [EEB-irtch], sacrifice.  If one of the vowels has a long mark, only that one is pronounced.  Likewise,

Uí Thuathail [ee HOO-uh-hil], of O’Toole.  Again, just the long vowel of “Uí.”  Additional examples: déine, béal ([bayl], mouth, as in béalghrá), anróiteach [AHN-ROH-tchukh]

When neither vowel is long, the pattern sometimes has to be memorized, and there are noticeable variations:

deacair [DJAK-irzh], hard.  The “ea” is like English “bat” or “cat” (or like Irish bean, fear, or deas, but not like Irish “beag”).  The “ai” here is unstressed, because it’s the second syllable, so it’s not a very distinct vowel sound.  It could be considered a very short “short i” or almost a “schwa.”

mion- [min], mini-.  Basically a short “i” with the “o” mostly serving to keep the “n” broad.  Not like the “io” in “iontach” [EEN-tukh] or “iontas” [EEN-tuss], though.

In the case of “-ua” and “ia,” each vowel is pronounced, as in Ó Tuathail [oh TOO-uh-hil], crua [KROO-uh], diabhal [DJEE-uh-wul], and dian [DJEE-un]

Three vowels in a row?  Fadhb ar bith!  We’ve seen aoi [ee], a guest; faoi [fwee], under; and saoi [see], an expert, among others.

Bhuel, as noted above, that was just tip of the iceberg, but it’s a bit of a headstart.  If you have any specific pronunciation questions, please feel to write in.  SGF, Róislín

(le Róislín)

Halloween is, of course, a very Celtic topic, and you may be familiar with some of the basics of its role sa bhféilire Ceilteach.  So in today’s blog, we’ll mostly focus on the phrase itself, its pronunciation and basic meaning.

The word order of the Irish phrase is a reversal of the English.  That’s assuming, of course, that we think of the word “Halloween” in its original sense (Hallow + e’en, with the “e’en” standing for “evening”).  Curious, isn’t it, how we rarely use the apostrophe for “Halloween” anymore, even though the same syncopation process, dropping the “v,” occurs occasionally in “whenever” (“Whene’er you make a promise,” as Girl Scouts will recall).  To the best of my knowledge, that apostrophe remains  (Wheneer?).  Hmm, I wonder if the ubiquitous “whatever” that we hear so much of nowadays will ever get apostrophized (“I was, like, whate’er”?)

Anyway, “Hallowe’en” (to fully punctuate the word), is essentially “hallowed evening,” whereas “Oíche Shamhna” is “eve of Samhain,” with the “eve” part first.  This is typical Irish word order, since the word “Samhain” is being used to modify “oíche,” similar to an adjective.

“Oíche” [EE-h^yuh] is the general word for “night” in Irish, and when used before holiday names, it can also mean “eve,” i.e. the night before, as in “Oíche Nollag” (Christmas Eve, as opposed to “Oíche Lá Nollag,” the night of Christmas Day).  Irish does have a word that is cognate to “night,” “nicht,” “nuit,” “nox/noctis,” et al., which is the “-nocht” part of “anocht” (tonight), but this “-nocht” cognate is limited to set phrases in Irish, and there are only a few of them, at that.  “Oíche” is a feminine noun, as you might recognize from the widely used phrase, “Oíche mhaith” [EE-h^yuh wah], where the adjective “maith” becomes “mhaith” to match the feminine noun.  To be thorough in the pronunciation notes, I should add that in the North, instead of the “wah” sound for “mhaith,” it’s more like the English word “why,” but very breathy, like “why” with a puff of breath.

byb (or are we not minimizing “by the by” to “textese” yet? — BYB mostly shows up as “Bihar Yoga Bharati” online).   Anyway, by the by (maith dom an t-athluaiteachas), that “h^yuh” sound I indicated uses the “^y” to indicate the specific  ”h” sound of “human” or “humid,” not the actual “hy-” sound of “hybrid” or “hydrogen” and not the “h” sound of “hoover.”

“Shamhna” [HOW-nuh] comes from Samhain [SOW-in] (1 November), which was the Celtic New Year.  “Shamhna” means “of Samhain” and is lenited here after “oíche.”  In certain other situations, the form “Samhna” (unlenited) is used, for example, in “cultacha Samhna” (Halloween costumes).  And, as I know I’ve explained pre-this-blog, the “sow” of the pronunciation guide for “Samhain” is like English “sow” (the pig), at least in American English.  That’s “sow” as typically rhyming with “now” or “Frau.”  Not as in “sow” (to sow seeds, etc.).

So that’s the basics, word-wise.  Some upcoming blogs may cover more Halloween topics, such as costumes, candies or sweets, decorations, typical “tricks” and supernatural figures.

Other blogs in this series have covered the Halloween season, including “Samhain (1 Mí na Samhna): The First Day of Winter, http://blogs.transparent.com/irish/samhain-1-mi-na-samhna-the-first-day-of-winter/, and “Cultacha Samhna Móréilimh [best-selling] na Bliana 2010, http://blogs.transparent.com/irish/cultacha-samhna-moreilimh-best-selling-na-bliana-2010/

Meanwhile, for another view of Halloween, you might like to read “The Japanese Knotweed of Festivals” by Sean Coughlan, from October 31, 2007, ag http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/7067804.stm .   Bhur mbarúlacha?

SGF, Róislín

Gluais: barúil, opinion; féilire, calendar; maith dom, forgive me (for)