Irish Language Blog

(le Róislín)

On the topic of fools (amadáin), Irish seems to have an endless supply of words.  Probably other languages do as well (Welsh offering up ffŵl, ffwlcyn, hurtyn, lolyn, penbwl, twpsyn, and ynfytyn, just for starters), but our focus here, ar ndóigh, will be on Irish terms.  We’ve recently discussed quite a few (gamal, pleidhce, pleota, and specifically female, óinseach).  Let’s review some of those from previous blogs, plus a few more, this time with a rough guide to pronunciation, both in the basic form and in the vocative (for direct address, direct address at your own risk, that is):

amadán [AH-muh-dawn], fool, fairly straightforward in pronunciation.  In direct address: “A amadáin!” “Fool!”  This is pronounced almost the same, but the “n” at the end is now slender, marking the vocative, so is tenser, almost like an “aw-in” sound, but more flowing.  Rhymes with “Táin,” the famous Cattle Raid of Cooley.

Now if this fool really were on a hill, as suggested by Lennon/McCartney, we’d probably say “An tAmadán ar an gCnoc” for the title of the song (or “ar an Chnoc” for Northern Irish).  I don’t recall that the song actually had any direct address, but if we did want to greet the fool on the hill, we could say “a amadáin ar an gcnoc,” or I’d be tempted to add poetic license to song and say “A amadáin an chnoic!” (O fool of the hill!).  As for the “foolish grin” in the song, that’ll have to wait for blag eile, since there are quite a few ways to say “grin” in Irish, as one might expect (“cár” agus “drannadh” ina measc).

dundarlán [DUN-dur-lawn], dunce, dunderhead, which Severus Snape implies is the intelligence level of his incoming Rang Posóidí (“mura bhfuil sibh in bhur ndundarlán chomh mór is a bhíonn os mo chomhair de ghnáth”).  In the vocative singular, this will be “A dhundarláin!” “Dunderhead!”  Same comments for the pronunciation of “-áin” as above.  There’s also a change from the normal initial “d” to an initial “dh,” bringing us to the voiced velar fricative as discussed in various previous blogs (among them, “Saying ‘I love you’ in Irish and Minding Your Velar Fricatives,” http://blogs.transparent.com/irish/saying-i-love-you-in-irish/ ).  The rough guide to that “dh-“ is a throaty (guttural) gargling sound, best learned by hearing native speakers.

gamal [GAH-mul], fool.  In direct address, “A ghamail!” [uh γAH-mil].  That symbol that looks sort of like a “y” is the phonetic symbol (“gamma”) for the sound I just described, which has no equivalent in the English language.  It comes from the “gamma” letter of the Greek alphabet.

gamalóg, [GAH-mul-ohg], female version of the above.  In direct address: “A ghamalóg!”  Same initial “gh-“ sound as for “gamal,” otherwise, no change.

óinseach [OHN-shukh], female fool.  In direct address: “A óinseach!” [uh OHN-shukh, no change to the main word]

óinsín [OHN-sheen], young or small female fool.  No change in direct address.

pleidhce [PLAI-kyuh, “ai” rhyming with “I,” “aye,” “eye,” and “my”], fool.  In direct address: “A phleidhce!” [uh FLAI-kyuh, with “flai” rhyming with “fly”].

pleota [PL^yOH-tuh], fool.  In direct address: “A phleota!” [uh FL^yOH-tuh]

And then, of course, words can be paired up to intensify the effect:

pleidhce amadáin, a silly fool.  In direct address: “A phleidhce amadáin!”

stumpa amadáin, an out-an-out fool, as Hagrid calls Mr. Dursley in the Irish version of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

Guess you can tell what I’ve been reading lately.  Actually re-reading, on the lookout for the stórfhocal is suimiúla.  ‘Sea, sin é, Harry Potter agus an Órchloch, which so far is the only volume from the series to have been translated into Irish : (

Bhuel, tá súil agam nach am amú é seo uaim atá amanna i m’óinseach, is dócha.  SGF, Róislín

P.S.  In case anyone was wondering about “gnáthfhadhbanna,” cited in the last blog,  it breaks down fairly neatly to “gnáth-“ [gnaw] + fhadhb [aib, rhyming with scribe, tribe, etc.] + -anna [uh-nuh, a plural ending].  For that one, I think we can skip the direct address form!  As you may recall, the word is from the line, “Agus tá na gnáthfhadhbanna fós á ciapadh: an Pleota sa bhaile agus Bean Uí Bhatamór ar scoil” (from a “blurba” for the children’s book “Cailitín” by Caitríona Ní Mhurchú, http://www.siopaancarn.com/irishchildrensbooksnsrang67?pm2_a=show&pm2_id=389).  Got the rest of the sentence?  It’s “And the ordinary problems are still pestering her: the fool [her silly brother] at home and Bean Uí Bhatamór [lit. Mrs. “Big-stick”] at school.”

(le Róislín)

Bhuel, mí an Mhárta may be the “sure-they’d-steal-your-heart-away” month, as “Irish Eyes” is sung over and over and over again, but I doubt it was ever meant to be taken literally.

Croí Lorcán Uí Thuathail sa bhosca adhmaid

But that’s exactly what has happened recently.  The theft of St. Laurence O’Toole’s heart apparently occurred on the morning of March 3^rd.  The heart, stored in a wooden heart-shaped box, was taken from its barred cage in the Peace Chapel of St. Laud in Christ Church Cathedral.  The Cathedral, described as “the spiritual heart of the city,” was founded ca. 1028, about a hundred years before the birth of the saint.  The heart has been kept there for about 800 years.  There’s plenty to read online about the incident but here’s a nasc for starters: http://www.christchurchdublin.ie/NewsDetails/72.

Meanwhile, seo capsúlbheathaisnéis Lorcán Uí Thuathail:

1128: rugadh é i nDíseart Diarmada (Castledermot), Co. Chill Dara

1154: ceapadh é mar ab ar Ghleann Dá Loch

1162: toghadh é mar Ardeaspag ar Bhaile Átha Cliath  

1180 (14 Mí na Samhna, a lá féile anois): fuair sé bás sa Fhrainc, in Eu sa Normainn

1225 (11 Mí na Nollag): canónadh é

1442: tógadh a chloigeann agus a chnámha go Sasana agus cuireadh i Chorley, Lancashire, iad, ach cailleadh iad in am Anraí VIII.  Ní fhacthas ó shin iad. 

2012 (3 Mí an Mhárta): goideadh a chroí ó Ardeaglais Chríost

Given that he lived about 600 years after most of the well-known Irish saints, in a (somewhat) more modern era, Lorcán Ua Tuathail’s life is quite well documented in comparison.  Desmond Forristal’s biography, Man in the Middle: St. Laurence O’Toole: Patron Saint of Dublin (1988) is a good place to start for further insight into his life.

From the perspective of Irish language learning, there are a few interesting points about Lorcán Ua Tuathail’s name.  First, one might notice right away that he is not referred to as “Labhrás,” which is the usual Irish for “Laurence” and is also the Irish for the 3^rd-century San Labhrás (na Róimhe).  I assume that the name was anglicized as Laurence in honor St. Laurence of Rome, although there’s no real connection between the names.  Lorcán, as a name, means “silent” or “fierce,” but it’s not the everyday word for “silent” or “fierce” in modern Irish.  Cad iad i nGaeilge?  Féach an nóta thíos.  Its appearance in the Harry Potter series may trigger greater interest in the name as the 21^st century proceeds.  Where in Harry Potter, you might wonder?  Bhuel, not in the actual books, but apparently in a family tree drawn by J. K. Rowling herself, which you can see at: http://www.snitchseeker.com/gallery/displayimage.php?pos=-11259 .  No “fada,” by the way – I checked.  The Lorcan connection was revealed in an interview with Rowling.  He is the son of Rolf Scamander and Luna Lovegood, and the twin of Lysander Scamander.  For details on the interview, see: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1071246/.

Second, “Ua,” as the middle component of his name is an alternate to the more familiar “Ó.”  Both words mean “grandson” or “descendant.”  Of course, “ó” isn’t the everyday word for “grandson” either – that would be “garmhac.”  Aside from their use in surnames, “ó” and “ua,” together with their plural and/or dative forms “óí,” “uí,” and “uíbh,” are used mostly in literary, historical, and geographic (place name) contexts these days, as in “Uí Néill” (the descendants of Niall Naoighiallach) or “Uíbh Ráthach” (Iveragh, Co. Kerry).

Thirdly, when the surname “Ua Tuathail” or “Ó Tuathail” is part of a possessive phrase, it becomes “UÍ Thuathail,” with a vowel change and lenition.  So we have phrases like “croí Lorcán Uí Thuathail,” or more generally “in aimsir Uí Thuathail” (in the time of O’Toole).  Likewise, the “Ó” of other modern surnames changes, as in “Bean Uí Dhónaill” (Mrs. O’Donnell, lit. wife of O’Donnell) or “Sráid Uí Chonaill” (O’Connell Street).  So, the grammar/spelling caveat is that “uí” can be plural or it can be the singular possessive form.  This isn’t unusual in Irish, as in “fir” (men) and “fir” (of a man) or “báid” (boats) and “báid” (of a boat).

As for the lenition, we see the additional “h” in the name “Tuathail” [TOO-uh-hil]  It becomes “Thuathail,” pronounced “HOO-uh-hil.”  At the risk of being obvious, I could also note that “Tuathail” usually has three syllables in Irish, whereas the anglicized version has just one (Toole).

A final interesting note — “Lorcán” is a shoo-in for a name in any O’Toole family, and I wonder what it’s like to bear it.  Peter O’Toole’s son, also an actor, is named Lorcan O’Toole.  Cad a shíleann seisean, meas tú?  Hmmm, Gaeilge aige, meas tú?  Peter himself is actually “Peter Seamus Lorcan O’Toole.”  I just checked and he was born in August 2^nd, not on St. Laurence O’Toole’s feast day (14 Mí na Samhna), so I’m curious as to how he ended up with Lorcán in his name.  Eolas ag duine ar bith?  Duine dena sheanaithreacha, b’fhéidir?  Ironic, isn’t it, that Peter O’Toole rose to fame as a “Labhrás” of another ilk altogether.  Na hAraibe, ar ndóigh.

At any rate, this blog is, ar ndóigh, just the usual tip of the iceberg of information about this interesting and well-documented saint, the recent and appalling theft of his heart, and the names “Lorcán” and “Ó Tuathail” in general.  Tá súil agam go raibh sé suimiúil.  As for the gadaíocht í féin, what a way to welcome in an mhí is Éireannaí sa bhliain!

Nóta: fierce: fíochmhar, fraochmhar, díocaiseach, srl., and silent: tostach, ciúin, srl.

Since we’ve talked so much about memory lately … An cuimhin leat an tUile-Chuimhneoir [un TIL-eh-KHIV-n^yor^zh] a sheol seanmháthair Neville Longbottom chuige? 

An féidir leat cur síos air?  (Cén chuma atá air?)  Dath?  Cruth?  Méid, srl.?

An bhfuil a fhios agat cén Béarla atá air?

An bhfuil a fhios agat cén sórt focail é i mBéarla? i nGaeilge?

Cén fáth a bhfuil an litir “t” i gcás íochtair agus an litir “U” i gcás uachtair sa bhfrása “an tUile-Chuimhneoir”?

That might be a mouthful!   What’s it all about?

1. Do you remember the “Uile-Chuimhneoir” that Neville Longbottom’s grandmother sent him?

2. Can you describe it? (What appearance was on it?)  Color?  Shape?  Size?

3. What’s the English name for it?

4. Do you know what kind of word it is, in English?  In Irish?

5. Why is the letter “t” lower-case and the letter “U” upper-case in the phrase “an tUile-Chuimhneoir”?

Here are some possible answers; answers may vary:

1. This is a yes/no question so your choices are :Is cuimhin (yes) or Ní cuimhin (no).  Or you might want to get away from the strict yes/no pattern and answer, “Is cuimhin liom sa leagan Béarla é ach ní cuimhin liom sa leagan Gaeilge é.”  Or “Níor léigh mé an leagan Gaeilge fós.”

2. Tá sé cruinn, mar liathróid.  Tá sé chomh mór le mirlín mór.  Tá sé déanta as cineál gloine.  De ghnáth bíonn sé bán, mar gheall ar an deatach bán atá istigh.  Nuair a bhíonn sé in úsáid (mar rinne an t-úinéir dearmad ar rud éigin), tagann dath dearg air. 

It is round, like a ball.  It is as big as a large marble.  It is made of a kind of glass.  Usually it’s white, because of the white smoke that’s inside.  When it’s in use (because the owner forgot something), it becomes red.

3. the Remembrall

4. In English, it’s a “focal portmanteau” (portmanteau word).  In Irish, it’s not really a portmanteau word, which requires the compound elements to be partly juxtaposed, like “Spanglish” or “smog.”  Or, as Lewis Carroll, the originator of the term, phrased it, the words are packed inside each other, as if in a suitcase (portmanteau).  The Irish word, Uile-Chuimhneoir, would be better described as a “comhfhocal” [KOH-UK-ul] (compound word).

5. This is the typical Irish pattern of capitalization with proper names and titles.  The word “Remembrall” is capitalized in Rowling’s original text, as if it were a trademarked product, so it is also capitalized in the Irish version.  The lower-case “t” is prefixed when saying “the Remembrall,” following the pattern for masculine singular nouns beginning with vowels (like an t-uisce, an t-arán).  With generic nouns, like “an t-am” or “an t-úll,” the lower-case “t” is followed by a hyphen.  With capitalized nouns (as in proper names or titles), there is no hyphen after the “t.”  So “an tUile-Chuimhneoir” is “the Remembrall” but “a Remembrall” is simply “Uile-Chuimhneoir” (with no prefixed “t”).

If you had one of the few other nouns in Irish that start with “uile,” but which are generic, there would be no hyphen: “uilethacar” [IL-eh-HAHK-ur, silent “t”] universal set (in math) and “an t-uilethacar,” the universal set.  There aren’t many other examples beginning with “uile,” especially since they have to be masculine for this rule to apply, but one other is “uileloscadh” (holocaust).  Since this could refer to a specific holocaust (in World War II), it could either be a proper noun (an tUileloscadh) or a generic noun (an t-uileloscadh).

You’ll see this same pattern (lower-case then upper-case) in many other phrases in Irish as well, like “i mBostún,” “i nGaillimh,” or “an tSiúr Bríd” (Sister Bridget).  This is supposed to be done even when something is printed entirely in caps (TÁ SÉ I mBOSTÚN) but this isn’t always observed, especially because many automated spellcheckers will try to change it to “MBOSTÚN,” as mine just tried to do!  Occasionally a smaller point size prefix will be used: TÁ SÉ I MBOSTÚN.  Hmmm, bhuel, you’ll have to imagine the “m” before “Bostún” as being capitalized but smaller, since my Word formatting didn’t carry over.  Trua!

Now, the trick is remembering all this till next time!

Gluais: “cuimhneoir,” not a word I’ve seen outside this phrase, but since it’s based on “cuimhin” and co., it would mean “Rememberer” (uses the suffix – eoir indicating agent); loscadh, burning, scorching; órchloch [OR-khlokh], philosopher’s stone, lit. “gold-stone;” uile, all, every