On Ukras

This is the river Wkra (pronounced Vkrah) in Mazovia, Poland:

This is the river Uecker in Brandenburg and Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Germany:

The German river Uecker is, nowadays, called Wkra in Polish. The reason for this appears to be that:

A) the assumption is that the Uecker does not have a Slavic etymology,

B) the river Uecker, however, must have had a prior Slavic name, and

C) as noted above, there is a river Wkra in Poland (i.e., Wkra to the rescue!).

So, it seems, in search of a Slavic name, Polish geographers, at some point relabeled the Uecker as Wkra in Polish. The result of this too has been that the Slavic tribe which previously lived in the area and which was previously named Ukrani in literature, has now also been relabeled (in Polish literature) as Wkrzanie – at least in Poland (if you can’t pronounce that, you’re not the only ones).

But the tribe was never called Wkrzanie before nor the river Wkra. Historical sources list them as Ukrani or Wuucri. They also list the German river as Ukra…

So why do this? Or, to put it differently, what’s wrong with Ukra?

It has been suggested by German historians too that the Uecker was the original name which preceded the Ukrani so that the arriving Slavic tribe derived its name from the existing, presumably Germanic, river name Uecker. Presumably, in response to this claim, i.e., that the source of the Ukra name was a German name (Uecker) and that, since Slavs lived in that area in the middle ages, the name could not have been Ukra but must have been something “Slavic” sounding, the river was renamed (again, by Poles only) into Wkra.

Silliness

What is astounding about “Slavicizing” the name Uecker into Wkra (to match the Mazovian river Wkra) now (since 19th century) is that it effectively ignores the quite real previous name of the river, i.e., Ukra or the quite real prior name of the tribe, i.e., Ukrani – never Wkrzanie.

What’s more, this process is not just astounding but also quite silly. There are at least two reasons for that.

First of all, if Polish Slavicists do not feel like defending the Slavic nature of the name Ukra (because of Uecker) then they should just accept the name as Germanic and move on – after all weren’t there some Germanic tribes in that area?

Second, there is no reason to think that Ukra was not the original name or that it is not Slavic. Rather, the Uecker seems to have been an adaptation of the earlier Ukra.

Third, what makes all this even sillier is that the Mazovian/Polish river Wkra may not have been called that originally… And it gets better! Some etymologists appear to claim that the river Wkra in Poland was previously also called the Ukra! If so, then it is likely that Ukra or something along these lines was the name for all these rivers. (Despite the fact that locals apparently believed (?) that the Mazovian Wkra was named that way because it meanders so much (“wkręcić“)). These folks claim that the name was Ukra and referred to the Polish (or Slavic) word “kra“, i.e., a “floe” or floating ice. “Krai” may also mean “to cut”.

Whichever the answer to this riddle, it certainly is the case that Slavic languages contain plenty of “ukr” sounds.

Thus, for example, U-kraine… Hmmmm, perhaps Ukrainians moved from East to West! But is there an Ukra river in the Ukraine? Nothing apparent. But maybe they named the rivers they encountered Ukras after their old homeland? But we know that can’t be right because the name Ukraine is far younger and denotes “borderland”, does it not? Except that the “u” does not really fit or make sense – something that could perhaps be more easily understood if there had been an Ukra in the Ukraine or if the Ukrainians had come into Ukraine from a country containing the river Ukra… (i.e., Ukrani > Ukranzi > Ukrainzi)

The reason for the “ukr” or “ucr” sounds in Slavic is because the “u” is a de facto prefix for a whole host of words beginning with “kr” – or “cr”, if you will. No similar combinations are apparent in Germanic languages (of course “kr” and “cr” are frequent, e.g., Kramer). And that is why Uecker does not seem to be the original but rather a German attempt to deal with the pronunciation of Ukra.

By the way, the same may be said for “o” as in “Okra” (on the Slavs, Suavi and the German River Ocker or Slavic Okra see here).

Digressive Intermission

Now, if you allow a digression, we would like to point out that one of the first things that surprises anyone researching pre-Slavic antiquities is that, while the suffix -mir may be Slavic, the names ending with -mer or -mar are not considered Slavic but Germanic. This should not be that surprising, however, because all Indo-European languages contain some levels of similarity. But the situation is worse than that. The suffix -mir may also be Germanic. Thus, for example, we have the Ostrogothic Pannonian Kings Theodemir, Valamir and, even, that most Slavic “sounding” Videmir. With all this we begin to question whether “Boromir” is Slavic either! (Gondor does not sound Slavic, even if Bor-o-mir does!).

The reason why one can reject the Slavic derivation of these names is not only because they were Goths and Goths spoke an East Germanic tongue but also because the prefixes of these names – at least in the case of Theodemir and Valamir – cannot be explained in any Slavic language. (Videmir could be but, after all, they were Goths!).

Which Brings Us to the Point

What is the Germanic etymology of the following name: Ukromir of the Chatti or Batti (in which case he would have been Batavian)? Mind you, the sources speak of Ukromir – not of Ueckermir or of Ueckermar or, even, as the table below shows and as Dahn would have it – Ukromer.

The table is useful in that it also presents Ukromir’s daughter – Ramis – the etymology of whose name is “uncertain” as you can see. Further, it shows the names of some very interesting relatives of our Ukromir.

For Ukromir/Ucromir, see, e.g., Strabo (Geography, 7, 1):

“In dealing with these peoples distrust has been a great advantage, whereas those who have been trusted have done the greatest harm, as, for instance, the Cherusci and their subjects, in whose country three Roman legions, with their general Quintilius Varus, were destroyed by ambush in violation of the treaty. But they all paid the penalty, and afforded the younger Germanicus a most brilliant triumph — that triumph in which their most famous men and women were led captive, I mean Segimuntus, son of Segestes and chieftain of the Cherusci, and his sister Thusnelda, the wife of Armenius, the man who at the time of the violation of the treaty against Quintilius Varus was commander-in‑chief of the Cheruscan army and even to this day is keeping up the war, and Thusnelda’s three-year‑old son Thumelicus; and also Sesithacus, the son of Segimerus and chieftain of the Cherusci, and Rhamis, his wife, and a daughter of Ucromirus chieftain of the Chatti, and Deudorix, a Sugambrian, the son of Baetorix the brother of Melo. But Segestes, the father-in‑law of Armenius, who even from the outset had opposed the purpose of Armenius, and, taking advantage of an opportune time, had deserted him, was present as a guest of honour at the triumph over his loved ones. And Libes too, a priest of the Chatti, marched in the procession, as also other captives from the plundered tribes — the Caülci, Campsani, Bructeri, Usipi, Cherusci, Chatti, Chattuarii, Landi, Tubattii. Now the Rhenus is about three thousand stadia distant from the Albis, if one had straight roads to travel on, but as it is one must go by a circuitous route, which winds through a marshy country and forests.”

And here is the “probable” explanation. (BTW doesn’t Much come from mucha? (incidentally, that is the Suevic/Swabian name for a fly – well, Mugg (see, e.g., Muggeseggele), but so is it in French too la mouche or Latin – musca))