In the above list of Cumric and Sanscrit words there are certainly
some remarkable instances of correspondence in sound and sense, the
most interesting of which is that afforded by Ner, the Cumric word
for the Lord, and Nara, the Sanscrit word for the Spirit of God.
From comparing the words in that list one might feel disposed to
rush to the conclusion that the Cumric sprang from the Sanscrit,
the sacred language of sunny Hindustan. But to do so would be
unwise, for deeper study would show that if the Welsh has some
hundreds of words in common with the Sanscrit, it has thousands
upon thousands which are not to be found in that tongue, after
making all possible allowance for change and modification. No
subject connected with what is called philosophy is more mortifying
to proud human reason than the investigation of languages, for in
what do the researches of the most unwearied philologist terminate
but a chaos of doubt and perplexity, else why such exclamations as
these? Why is the Wallachian word for water Sanscrit? for what is
the difference between apa and ap? Wallachian is formed from Latin
and Sclavonian; why then is not the word for water either woda or
aqua, or a modification of either? Why is the Arabic word for the
sea Irish, for what is the difference between bahar, the Arabic
word for sea, and beathra, an old Irish word for water, pronounced
barra, whence the river Barrow? How is it that one of the names of
the Ganges is Welsh; for what is the difference between Dhur, a
name of that river, and dwr, the common Welsh word for water? How
is it that aequor, a Latin word for the sea, so much resembles
AEgir, the name of the Norse God of the sea? and how is it that
Asaer, the appellative of the Northern Gods, is so like Asura, the
family name of certain Hindu demons? Why does the scanty Gailk,
the language of the Isle of Man, possess more Sanscrit words than
the mighty Arabic, the richest of all tongues; and why has the
Welsh only four words for a hill, and its sister language the Irish
fifty-five? How is it that the names of so many streams in various
countries, for example Donau, Dwina, Don, and Tyne, so much
resemble Dhuni, a Sanscrit word for a river? How is it that the
Sanscrit devila stands for what is wise and virtuous, and the
English devil for all that is desperate and wicked? How is it that
Alp and Apennine, Celtic words for a hill, so much resemble ap and
apah, Sanscrit words for water? Why does the Sanscrit kalya mean
to-morrow as well as yesterday, and the Gypsy merripen life as well
as death? How is it that ur, a Gaelic word for fire, is so like
ura the Basque word for water, and Ure the name of an English
stream? Why does neron, the Modern Greek word for water, so little
resemble the ancient Greek [text which cannot be reproduced] and so
much resemble the Sanscrit nira? and how is it that nara, which
like nira signifies water, so much resembles nara, the word for man
and the Divinity? How is it that Nereus, the name of an ancient
Greek water god, and Nar, the Arabic word for fire, are so very
like Ner, the Welsh word for the Creator? How is it that a certain
Scottish river bears the name of the wife of Oceanus, for what is
Teith but Teithys? How indeed! and why indeed! to these and a
thousand similar questions. Ah man, man! human reason will never
answer them, and you may run wild about them, unless, dropping your
pride, you are content to turn for a solution of your doubts to a
certain old volume, once considered a book of divine revelation,
but now a collection of old wives' tales, the Bible.
Footnotes:
(1) That vira at one time meant man in general, as well as fire,
there can be no doubt. It is singular how this word or something
strikingly like it, occurs in various European languages, sometimes
as man, sometimes as fire. Vir in Latin signifies man, but vuur in
Dutch signifies fire. In like manner fear in Irish signifies a
man, but fire in English signifies the consuming, or, as the Hindus
would call it, the producing element.
(2) "Pawb a'i cenfydd, o bydd bai,
A Bawddyn, er na byddai." - GRONWY OWEN.
(3) One or two of the characters and incidents in this Saga are
mentioned in the Romany Rye. London, 1857, vol. i. p. 240; vol.
ii. p. 150.
A partial translation of the Saga, made by myself, has been many
years in existence. It forms part of a mountain of unpublished
translations from the Northern languages. In my younger days no
London publisher, or indeed magazine editor, would look at anything
from the Norse, Danish, etc.
(4) All these three names are very common in Norfolk, the
population of which is of Norse origin. Skarphethin is at present
pronounced Sharpin. Helgi Heely. Skarphethin, interpreted, is a
keen pirate.
(5) Eryri likewise signifies an excrescence or scrofulous eruption.
It is possible that many will be disposed to maintain that in the
case of Snowdon the word is intended to express a rugged
excrescence or eruption on the surface of the earth.
(6) It will not be amiss to observe that the original term is
gwyddfa but gwyddfa; being a feminine noun or compound commencing
with g, which is a mutable consonant, loses the initial letter
before y the definite article - you say Gwyddfa a tumulus, but not
y gwyddfa THE tumulus.
(7) Essay on the Origin of the English Stage by Bishop Percy.
London, 1793.
(8) The above account is chiefly taken from the curious Welsh book
called "Dych y prif Oesoedd."
(9) Spirits.
(10) Eel.
(11) For an account of this worm, which has various denominations,
see article "Fasciola Hepatica" in any Encyclopaedia.
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