In Old Frisian we have:
kleppa
which means “to embrace” or “to hug” but also “to hang” with someone.
whereas in Polish we have:
klepać
which means “to clap” of course but also “to pat”
In both cases we have the idea of “clapping” which seems PIE (compare with German klappen or English clap or Polish klaskać).
But in both Polish and Old Frisian the meaning seems to have turned to embrace and to pat which amount to something very similar.
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The Austalian (and NZ and Korean) scholar Hyun Jin Kim points out something very interesting. The name Radagaisus, in addition to appearing all over Suavic countries (in its Suavic spellings such as Radhošť), also appears – if it be the same name – among the Sarmatians (something that well known for quite a while – it appears in von Pauly and in my favorite Keltomaniac list of lists – Alfred Holder’s Alt-celtischer Sprachschatz, volume 2). We find it at CIG (Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum) volume 2, part IX (Inscriptiones Sarmatiae cum Chersoneso, Taurica et Bosporo Cimmerio), at number 2070 (CIG was the Prussian precursor to IG) in the form Rathagosos. Here it is:
Incidentally, this is courtesy of Kharkiv university library (Potocki). It comes from Olbia, that is Ὀλβία Ποντική, a Greek colony just east of Odessa. It was already shown by Désiré-Raoul Rochette (Rochettus) in his Antiquités Grecques du Bosphore Cimmérien:
Hyun Jin Kim also makes an interesting point in relation to the discussion of the Sarmatian – Goth connection citing an often overlooked statement by Procopius that I posted before:
“The Greuthungi Goths and even some of the other East Germanic tribes such as the Vandals and Gepids were in fact so thoroughly Sarmatianized that Procopius in the sixth century AD would argue that they were in fact separate from the Germanic peoples and were originally Sarmatians and Getae.”
The cite is this:
“Now while Honorius was holding the imperial power in the West, barbarians took possession of his land; and I shall tell who they were and in what manner they did so. There were many Gothic nations in earlier times, just as also at the present, but the greatest and most important of all are the Goths, Vandals, Visigoths, and Gepaedes. In ancient times, however, they were named Sauromatae and Melanchlaeni; and there were some too who called these nations Getic. All these, while they are distinguished from one another by their names, as has been said, do not differ in anything else at all. For they all have white bodies and fair hair, and are tall and handsome to look upon, and they use the same laws and practise a common religion. For they are all of the Arian faith, and have one language called Gothic; and, as it seems to me, they all came originally from one tribe, and were distinguished later by the names of those who led each group. This people used to dwell above the Ister River from of old. Later on the Gepaedes got possession of the country about Singidunum and Sirmium, on both sides of the Ister River, where they have remained settled even down to my time.”
Procopius (History of Wars, Book III, chapter 2)
As for the historical records of Radagaisus, well, that’s a topic for another blogpost.
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In Polish nobility’s myth making, the Poles were Slavs but they were also Lechites. They were Vandals too and then they were Sarmatians. The shift to the Sarmatians was likely precipitated by the shift of Poland’s borders to be more eastwards as the country expanded into Red Ruthenia and merged with the Lithuanian duchy. Nevertheless, could there be some truth to these stories? I mean why pick something that’s completely crazy? They wouldn’t have done that. They would have chosen for their foundational myth something that was plausible – perhaps some distant memory of the past. Let’s, again, start with the names of tribes involved:
Then, of course, is the history telling. In Polish (Kadlubek and others) and Russian (Nestor) legend, the Slavs come from Pannonia to Poland first. Indeed, the word “pan” (but perhaps from zhupan) to this day means “sir” or “lord”. The Czechs do not say where they came from (at least Cosmas does not though Dalimil points to Croatia which would have been close to Pannonia). So let’s take a look at the potential protagonist tribes. Interestingly, Nestor speaks of the Slavs as Noricans which suggests an even earlier memory.
Vindelici
The first thing to see is that there was a tribe that bore a name similar to the Lechites. They even lived around the River Lech. And they did fight the Romans around Lake Veneticus. They are the Vindelici. The Vindelici lived near the Norici and the Rhaetians , not to mention the Suevi. They would have also lived close to where the Veneti had lived before and perhaps they were the remnants of the Veneti who had been driven north by the Roman Republic much earlier.
They are mentioned by Strabo and, arguably, also by Pliny who, in some manuscripts speaks of Vandalici, Vandilici. This has been seen as a reference to the Vandals but it seems easier to substitute an “a” for an “i” than to add a whole new suffix for Vandali to come up with Vanda-lici. However, the fact that the Vindelici may have been confused for the Vandals or that Vandals were confused for the Vindelici is suggestive of the state of affairs in this area.
Curiously, Ptolemy does not mention Vindelici but in his chapter on Raetia and Vindelicia he does mention the Suanettae and Vennontes plus Licati on the river Licati. Since the Licati is today’s Lech River, it makes sense to assume that the Licatis‘ name was something that contained the word Lech. Nearby we also have names such as Brenni/Breuni (Brena) and others (Geloni (of the Budini-Geloni fame), Senones, Isara) that are at the very least interesting.
Of course this map is a mere reconstruction of ancient names, though interesting nevertheless
The Vindelici have previously been considered Celtic but what that means is uncertain. Did they speak a Celtic language? We do not know as no evidence of their language survived. Their “Celtic” ethnicity (if by that we mean language spoken) is not backed by any evidence. Did they survive the Roman onslaught? Perhaps. If so did they retain that Celtic language later? Clearly not since the banishment of Celtic from most of Europe is incredibly complete. Did they then become Latin speakers? When Tiberius defeated them, where did any survivors go?
Suevi/Suavi
An answer to this may be offered by what happened to the Suevi. The Suevi of Caesar are on the Rhine. They seem to maintain relations with the Noricans to the south (one of Ariovistus’ wives was the sister of King Voccio or Voccion of Noricum). But then the Suevi of Tacitus are pushed further eastward (perhaps taking the names of rivers with them and transferring those to newly encountered rivers…). We know that the Suevi of Vannius were resettled by the Romans to Pannonia (perhaps Pannonia Savia). Indeed, the Suevi appear in late antiquity at the Battle of Nedao and, under their leader Hunimund, sparring with the Ostrogoths. Curiously, by then the “e” is no longer part of their name and we have, in its place, an “a” – the Suavi.
Jazyges
Since at least a few centuries BC, the Tisza plain next to the Roman province of Pannonia (which was then split up) was occupied by the Sarmatians – specifically, the Jazyges. Strangely, jazik means “language” in Slavic (as also apparently in Breton where some of the Veneti fought Caesar). And as we know, in Slavic, slowo (suovo) means a “word”. While I will not pull in the Suomi (that is the Finns), this Suevic-Jazyges connection seems most peculiar. Note also that the Suevi (especially the Quadi) were known to have fought together against the Romans.
Curiously, the war cry of the Sarmatian “Limigantes” was ‘Marha, marha’ which (especially given strong suggestions of a war goddess among the Veleti (of unknown name) and, possibly, the Poles (Lada?)) is intriguing. The Polish name Maria was for a long time pronounced Marza (see , for example, Urbanczyk) and, of course, there is the Goddess Marzanna. The relevant passage is in Ammianus Marcellinus’ Book 19, 10: “And when the emperor was seen on the high tribunal and was already preparing to deliver a most mild address, intending to speak to them as future obedient subjects, one of their number, struck with savage madness, hurling his shoe at the tribunal, shouted “Marha, marha” (which is their warcry), and the rude crowd following him suddenly raised a barbarian banner and with savage howls rushed upon the emperor himself.”
Legii/Lugii
Another tribe that is known to have brawled with the Suevi were the Lugii/Legii of southern Poland. Where did these battles take place – either in the Great Pannonian Basin or just north of it.
Vandals
Although there is no indication of the Vandals anywhere in Poland, they did appear for the first time in the Pannonia area (more or less at the Banat) and they did fight – on the same side – with the Sarmatians (at least the “royal” Sarmatians – the Arcaragantes or Argaragantes) in the fourth century in Pannonia against the Goths. That both the actual Vandals and an actual Sarmatian tribe (likely the Jazyges) met together in Pannonia is very suggestive. Curiously, archeologists digging in Hungary were finding plenty of Sarmatian artifacts but not Vandalic gear. Unless, of course, these were, ultimately, the very same things. Of course, Pannonia then became the seat of Huns and, later, of the Goths, Gepids, Lombards, Avars and, ultimately, the Hungarians. This would suggest that anyone not wanting such overlordship would have had to flee. Some would have fled west into Italy and some south into the Byzantine provinces. But, of course, those were the directions that the Huns and the other invaders would be following. They could not flee East since that was the direction that the Huns and others were coming from. So, naturally, the question arises, would they have gone North?
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The commonly accepted boundary of the Germania Suavica – the acknowledged area of Suavic settlement in Germany runs mostly along the Elbe. West of the Elbe, exceptions are made for Wendland around Luneburg but, generally, the understanding is that at that point you get into ethnically German territories in Westphalia, Brunswick and Ostfriesland. But if you look closely you can just make out some interesting place names that are west of Hamburg (that is west of the Elbe) up until Bremen (which sits on the Weser) and perhaps even a bit further. (Curiously, the very name Bremen suggests the Suavic word brama meaning “gate” – perhaps to the lands on the Weser).
For example (red in the picture below):
I am not suggesting all these are Suavic (almost all have another etymology) but there is enough of them that an examination seems useful. Moreover, there are other names nearby that may hint at Suavs (or Balts) as well (blue in the picture below):
The above mentioned towns in relation to the historical Wendland
Wilhelm Boguslawski named some other names: Steinau, Krempel, Midlum, Spieka, Lehe, Spaden, Grambke as potentially Suavic – I actually think most of these have nothing to do with Suavs. Other names nearby (from the Rastede monastery grant of 1124) that may merit an investigation: Börsten (Bursati), Swidero/Svidero, Brunin, Henchinhusin (because of Henchin-), Nertin, Tvislon, Swirlichin, Smerlachen, Magelissin, Enschinin, Withlike, Benchinhusen (because of Benchin-), Widinchusen/Windenchusen, Wellin, Wisteren/Winstrin, Wadinbech (because of Wadin), Mühlenwisch (because of the -isch), Scrotinh, Nordleda.
The Greater Poland Chronicle provides the following description:
“The Rhine and the Danube are the the greater rivers of the Teutonic nation, whereas the Vandalus (Vistula), the Oder and the Elbe are the great rivers of the countries of Poland and Bohemia. Around these last three rivers, they [Suavs] held also the lands in-between and those countries that bordered them and they hold them still, as is known, from there up to the North Sea. Whereas the Saxons, having left their very small lands and villages and moving to the wide lands of the Suavs, settled permanently in those places.”
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A reader sent me a copy of a relatively new (written in Polish) book “The Religions of Ancient Suavs” (Religie Dawnych Słowian) by Dariusz Sikorski, a Polish medievalist who, among other achievements, helped to rehabilitate portions of the Chronicle of Adémar of Chabbanes. I had it read and have to say that I found that process rather wearisome.
The book is deconstructionist in a tiresomely extreme manner. It is Alexander Brückner without the acidity but also without the faux-erudite panache – par for the course, and, I confess, probably for the slightly better (less annoying but more boring – take your poison). Indeed, if you want to understand why Sikorski wrote this book, you just need to skip to the ending (which I dare suspect he wrote first), where the author fesses up as follows:
“It may seem, perhaps, to the reader that the vision presented in this book is one-sided and that the author exaggerates in many of his assertions, that his vision of Suavic religion is very limited. Perhaps, indeed, I overemphasize many of the problems and set too categorical a theses but please take note that in the entire contemporary literature there prevails the opposite trend: of an extensive sacral interpretation of all possible source testimonies. Please, therefore, take heed of my voice as a presentation of the position of the opposite side of the argument regarding the pre-Christian Suavic religion…”
Sikorski’s description of what he seems to perceive to be his reality is a description of a reality that is warped so as to be unrecognizable. What contemporary literature is he referring to where the prevailing trend is to overinterpret Suavic religious sources? Sure, people may overinterpret things, particularly if they think they found something new, get excitd and want to write a paper on it. But in terms of synthetic, comprehensive literature, which this book aims to be a part of, there is nothing recent (at least in academic literature) i know of that builds any sand castles around Suavic religion. The biggest problem of Suavic comprehensive religious literature is that there is relatively little of it (of any kind).
Presumably, he addresses his book to a Polish audience. What compendia of Suavic religion have we seen recently? Aleksander Brückner wrote his “Suavic Mythology” in 1918 and a variation, “Polish Mythology” in 1924. After that no one seriously touched the subject until Henryk Łowmiański’s “Suavic Religion and it Downfall” in 1979 and Aleksander Gieysztor’s “Mythology of the Suavs” in 1982. That’s basically it. Of those only Gieysztor’s can be seen as an attempt at some sort of positive synthesis – the other books are basically negativist. (In fact, Sikorski seems to be having an argument with Gieysztor – albeit over a quarter century after that author’s publication). You really have to live in an alternate reality to think that the deconstructionist, negativist “side” is in retreat – as far as I can tell it is about the only “side.”
No, it isn’t
Which brings me to another point. Sikorski speaks of an “opposite side of the argument.” But what argument? There was no Gieysztor – Łowmiański argument even if they took slightly different tacks on the topic. The only person arguing seems to be Sikorski – he tries to manufacture the very conflict that he obviously “feels” already exists. Even more importantly, he is a professor and, presumably, wants to be seen as a scholar. So why does he have to take any “sides”? (Not that I am that naive about the pettiness of modern academia). Why not just set your views as they are – in a more balanced way – rather than write so übercritical a book that exaggerates to such an extent that you have to come clean at the end and admit that you overexaggerated (but did so for the oh so very noble a reason of taking the “other side” in a conflict that seems to play out only in your head)? The book is over 300 pages long – did he enjoy writing a book that points out little human foibles apparent here and there of people eager to shed some more light on their ancestors’ past? Does spending hours over tiny sins of other people’s (mostly amateurs) over interpretations make him happy and pleased? Is that what he wants to be remembered for? The book does not quite rise to the level of a troll job but in a number of places the writer’s arguments certainly strike me as overly petty (Didn’t some Byzantine writer say that the Suavs were conflict prone? Maybe it’s the weather).
Finally, exaggeration is one thing as a rhetorical device (though, again, why debate at all rather than try to help synthesize?) but writing inaccurate statements is quite another. Right before the above cited paragraph Sikorski categorically proclaims:
“From most of the lands settled (!) by the Suavs, including the lands of Poland, we have no sources [on Suavic religion].”*
* note: He make exceptions for Polabian Suavs and Eastern Suavs except that for the latter he claims the beliefs described are primarily those of the Scandinavian ruling class.
So what of Jan Długosz’s Polish Pantheon? He does mention it. He agrees that Długosz “did not just make [these Gods] all up” but then concludes (well, he does not conclude but rather uses the passive (or passive aggressive) voice “it is thought”) that the “Polish Olympus” is “merely a reflection of Długosz’s learned imagination.” I, frankly do not understand the difference between “making things up” and using your “learned imagination”. Perhaps the intended subtlety represents an agreement that there is something there but then Długosz went with that something to a conclusion beyond any that that something could have justified. I am unconvinced. Once you admit that Długosz did not make it all up then you have to ask what was the nature of that “real it”.
For example, the question of the interpretatio romana is absolutely secondary. If Yassa was the highest God of the Polish pantheon then He was equivalent to Jove – in that much. And to that extent Długosz would have been justified in linking Yassa with Jove – which is, incidentally, all he did. Whether Yassa also possessed all the attributes of the Roman Jove/Jupiter is absolutely irrelevant to the point that Długosz was making. Indeed, he was writing for an educated, Latin reading audience – of kings who, at that point, were already non-Polish and, perhaps, for the broader European elite public. I do not see any better way to relate Polish Divinities to such people’s experience than to use Latin equivalents (or, as equivalent, as they get). The fact that he also mentioned those Deities that did not (to him) seem to have a Roman equivalent (Pogoda, Sywie/Zywie) seems rather to bolster the veracity of Długosz’s account.
Moreover, the reason that Sikorski thinks that Długosz did not make it all up is because Sikorski is quite aware of the existence of earlier sources that mention the same Deities. He cites, for example, Lucas of Great Kozmin. But Sikorski does not seem to have read what that preacher wrote. To quote:
“I recall that in youth I read in a certain chronicle that there were in Poland Gods and from those days to our times such rites come that, young women [in his time] dance with swords, as if in offering to the pagan Gods, and not to [the] God, as well as [dances of] young men with swords and sticks, which they then hit about… “To this day they sing and dance and name their Gods “Lado, Yassa” and others – surely not references to the Holy Father so can anything good come of this? Certainly not… One does not receive salvation through the names of Lado, Yassa or Nia but rather through the name of Jesus Christ… Not Lada, Yassa or Nia , that incidentally are the names of the gods worshipped here in Poland as will attest certain chronicles of the Poles.”
So Lucas claims to have read in his youth about Polish Gods in chronicles (or at least “a” chronicle) with names that matched the names of the Deities that he himself claims to have heard being uttered during the ceremonies described above which he may well have witnessed. Thus, he testifies to what he has (yes, “probably”) seen (but then others have seen the same) and testifies to what he has read. He interprets (quite logically) the former by means of the latter.
I ventured to guess previously that, had Brückner been aware of Lucas’ sermons, he would have discounted them the same as he did Długosz. As any child does (or any good, or at least persistent, barrister), we can always ask “but how did he know?” If you assume that Poland became Christianized in one fell swoop in 966 then, no amount of post-966 evidence can ever convince you (same as if you assume that no Suavs lived in Poland before, say, the 6th century then, by definition, every artifact found in Poland and dated to earlier times must, necessarily, be of non-Suavic provenance).
Sikorski is not as one-sided as Brückner (though, to be fair, few could be) and does not discount Lucas’ testimony. He mentions it but then ignores it and is thus able to reach the above false conclusion by ignoring the evidence he himself acknowledges exists. (I strongly suspect this is because he wrote that conclusion – at least in his head – before he wrote the section on Długosz’s Olympus and never went back to soften the language).
Is there anything positive in the book? I feel I have to answer this question positively lest I be accused of doing the very same thing the author did.
Nevertheless, I can honestly say, “yes, sure”. The book does go on to describe some (if hardly all) sources of Suavic paganism and, due to the fact, that it is far newer than the prior “comprehensive” studies, does address new sources and findings. But that, by itself, would not justify reading it since there are, scattered in other places, better sources for that updated material.
More importantly, the book does, in places, demonstrate quite ably the weakness of over interpreting sources and does show the reader what we know and what we really do not know and, thus, where we could be letting our “learned imagination” travel far beyond where it is logically justified to go. My pet peeve of interpreting Svarog and “Perun” (Piorun really) as definitely Polish Deities, may serve as an example. Neither name made any ethnically Polish Pantheon/Olympus compendium so all we have to go on is some place names in Poland. But the author accurately notes that place names cannot with any reasonable certainty serve to reconstruct the cultic history of the locals who lived there to the extent such place names may also, even more likely, refer to other things. Thus, Sikorski observes that the Polish town of Swarorzyn is unlikely to have anything to do with any Svarog Deity. He also correctly points out that any “Piorun” place names may simply refer to those places where, a piorun, that is, “thunder” struck.
On the other hand, of course, we do know of Perkunas (and Lada, incidentally which is also a place name) being worshipped in Lithuania where the Varangians did not loiter so some such place names may have something to do with the Suavic/Baltic God of Thunder. It is here, of course, where the book fails by being overly one-sided. (Indeed the author, like Brückner, also manages to take a few digs at Baltic Prussian religion).
Even if you do not want to be faced with the “glass is 1% empty” method of synthesis (or anti-synthesis), to the extent you’re overenthusiasic about Suavic religion or, assuming you really believe that there is an “argument” here, and you want to know all the aces of the “other side,” you should read the book (assuming you read Polish) because it will show you the strongest (?) arguments that that “side” purports to make. And that itself is a positive learning experience.
I do hope that the author will in the future use his not inconsiderable talents to write something creative with a rather nobler intention of actually presenting a vision and elevating discourse as opposed to merely sounding the trumpet of the naysayers. If that’s too much to ask then at least writing something more balanced would produce a better use of everyone’s time. No one enjoys the morose pronouncements of a Debbie-downer even if, once in a while, those happen to be quite right.
P.S. For someone who purports to represent a deconstructionist trend, I find it curious that the author would agree to place a picture of what is, evidently, an effigy of Odin on the cover of the book. I have long suspected that Odin may be a variation on Yassa/Iasion/Jason but Sikorski does not try to make any such connections which makes me think this is (hopefully) just an example of the unfortunate laziness of the publishers.
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It has always been suspicious why Christmas – the celebration of the birth of Jesus – should take place in December. A rather obvious suggestion (or what should have been an obvious suggestion) was made by James Frazer in his “Golden Bough,” that Christians/the Church appropriated an earlier holiday. This would have been done mid-4th century, as the then Church was about to take over the Roman Empire.
Such a move would have made sense since if people were going to have a celebration anyway, one might just celebrate the “right way” (i.e., the Christian way). My guess is that this was initially a “competing” holiday designed to provide an alternative to earlier celebrations and eventually, with the help of the state, it took over as the sole holiday of that season. On the plus side, the people could still celebrate during a time they would have celebrated anyway. On the downside their holy time was appropriated by another set of beliefs. (An accommodation to earlier pagan polytheism may also have been the concept of the Trinity and, earlier, of the Three Wise Men). In the same way the Church routinely appropriated “pagan” worship places. Idols were destroyed and replaced – in the same location – with Christian crosses and churches. You could look at it as either allowing the previously non-Christian population to continue to come to the same place for worship or, in a less benevolent way, as denying access to the holy cultic area by having it appropriated for Christianity. Thus, did the Church likely take over the earlier holy times/rites and places. (Most successful religions, like most successful ideas, attract their “consumer” with something to offer and, if they want to thrive, have to be flexible. Christianity survived so long for precisely these reasons).
But what came before? Well, Frazer gives a rather convincing answer that the Europeans celebrated various Deities that were connected to the yearly (north hemispheric) agricultural cycle and the consequent fertility. He finds this fertility God to be Osiris, Aton, Adonis and Dionysos. Each of these may be associated with the Sun (and the Moon perhaps even more so! Of course, the portfolios of Osiris and others varied somewhat over the millennia of Egyptian history) and with rebirth. The story of Iasion and Demeter is very similar. For Osiris you, of course, have Isis. For the Polish Jassa, you, possibly have Lada and so on.
The Church fathers suggest as much of the identification of the pre-Christian beliefs as well as validate the suspected mechanism for taking over the pagan beliefs for the Church. For example, Ambrose speaks of Jesus as being the true and only Sun. Or was that Tertullian? (“[pagans] …believe that the Christian God is the Sun, because it is a well-known fact that we pray turning towards the rising Sun, and that on the Sun’s day we give ourselves to jubilation.” (Ad Nationes, 1, 13).
But, I suspect, this design did not just first appear in the 4th century. It would not be surprising to learn that Christianity was, from the (almost) get go purposely set up in this way.
After all, the followers of Jesus saw their Lord die and made their way fast out of the country most likely not to share in the same fate. They may have been depressed to see their way of life crushed and themselves exiled. But, Paul was resilient enough and smart enough to repackage the concept and take his revenge – in the form of a giant middle finger – on the Jewish priest class (and on the Romans). Paul as well as his acolytes would have been aware that there were more liberal Jewish communities throughout the Mediterranean at the time. To what extent they took to the new Messianic faith I do not know (I am sure there are books about that) but it is possible that the evangelists also noted the possibility of going beyond the niche market of local pre-kabbalah and making the message universal.
They would certainly have known of the popularity of Dionysos, Bacchus, Osiris and the like. The existence of the local Indo-European fertility/rebirth cults also made Christianity’s transition to a true universal religion easier by making the concepts understandable to the non-Jewish Roman population. And here the evangelsits had their own Dead God available. What a perfect marketing opportunity for an upstart religion. So, it seems, with Jesus’ death, a new Christ-figure was born (Jesus had to be reborn because you obviously can’t kill a God but also to better match the Reborn God story), packaged in a (then) New Age way for the more liberal Jewish groups outside of Palestine and their non-Jewish fellow cosmopolitans. Since Judaism, already then, had a claim to antiquity as well as an aura of sophistication, this latter Roman group may have well taken to Christianity as a way of getting in on the action. Once the upper classes became involved the game was won and paganism was relegated to, well, the pagus where the “deplorables” clung onto their unreformed ways.
A related question is whether Esus/Iasion and others have anything to do with the Jewish God Yehova (the namesake of Yehoshua, that is Jesus). Some have claimed that Jesus escaped and taught in France. While one can apparently make money peddling this kind of nonsense in the form of bestselling books, there is zero actual proof to prop up this idea.
Nevertheless, I suspect that there may, in fact, be a slightly more subtle connection. There have been rather suggestive connections between the Middle Eastern and the Indo-European world. This is unsurprising. After all, one sits next to the other. What can such proximity result in? Some folks – most recently Theo Vennemann – have suggested that – before the Indo-Europeans – Europe had been settled by Basque and Semitic speaking peoples. The proof, apparently, is in various place names which also appear in the Middle East. While the Phoenicians did in fact travel up and and down European coasts , their presence there did not seem to translate to a lasting, material influence. Neither are there significant signs of other Semitic travelers. Are these plac names really Basque or Semitic (see the discussion of some Suavic words below) or is there so ething else going on?
The interaction is, no doubt, much more complex and likely ran both ways, but I strongly suspect that the story should be examined by looking at it from rather the opposite angle – that of an IE influence on thr Middle East.
The potential connections of Indo-Europeans with Mesopotamia and the Levant reach far back into antiquity. Proto-Euphratean anyone? Gutians/Guti? Mushki/Moschoi/Muški/Meshech/ Mosoch? Names like Lugal-anne-mundu? Deity Ištaran of the “bright visage” (“stretching out a hand to Ištaran of the bright visage being taken away on the barge”) who is also associated with a dragon? (Incidentally, it is not that difficult to imagine people gazing at the sky and thinking of, for example, the Milky Way, as akin to a giant “glowing” serpent and even pre-Freud the connection between a snake (if not ncessarily a lizard) and a fertily/agricultural Deity/rite ought have been obvious).
These above are speculation and some of them are probably stretches but we do know that Indo-Europeans eventually established a presence in the North of Mesopotamia and may have penetrated as far as Egypt. In fact, they seem to have done this in multiple invasion waves.
Take, for example, the Hyksos and the Hurrians. Perhaps some of these were not IEs (Hyksos just means “rulers of foreign lands”) but an IE component seems firmly present among them. As regards the Hurrians, their most famous kingdom is that of the Mitanni whose Gods’ names, listed circa 1380 B.C., include Mitra, Varuna, Indra, and Nasatya. Take the name of some of the various Deities of north Canaan. In Palmyra one of the principal Gods was Yarhibol. He was “depicted with a solar nimbus” and called the “lord of the spring“. The connection to Yarillo, Gerovit/Yerovit/Yarovit or Yassa is obvious. Another local God was Bel (not Baal) whose name sounds very much like that of Belobog.
Take the name of the city of Jericho which is derived from the Canaanite reaẖ meaning “fragrant” (the Arabic may be derived from the same). This is obviously connected with the above-mentioned Yarhibol though a somewhat alternate explanation connects the name of the city with the local lunar Deity (the Canaanite word for the moon was Yareaẖ. That the moon was often worshipped in the context of “fragrance” (morning dew) is rather well shown. Compare this too with the Suavic town name of Jerichow an der Elbe (apparently, not named after ancient Jericho).
Incidentally, both Osiris and the Polish Jassa may have an even stronger connection to the Moon than to the Sun. Compare this too with Swiatowit (Morning Lord? hence Rana?), whose white horse roamed free at night throughout Rugia only to return for the morning when his mane was found to be rather “sweaty” – again, like the morning dew – in the horse’s case apparently a result of his nightly excursions).
What should give us all pause is the similarity of these “Canaanite” words and their patent IE counterparts like “jary” “yarki” or “year“. The Online Etymological Dictionary has this uncontroversial entry for “year“:
year (n.) Old English gear (West Saxon), ger (Anglian) “year,” from Proto-Germanic *jēr “year” (source also of Old Saxon, Old High German jar, Old Norse ar, Danish aar, Old Frisian ger, Dutch jaar, German Jahr, Gothic jer “year”), from PIE *yer-o-, from root *yer- “year, season” (source also of Avestan yare(nominative singular) “year;” Greek hōra “year, season, any part of a year,” also “any part of a day, hour;” Old Church Slavonic jaru, Bohemian jaro “spring;” Latin hornus “of this year;” Old Persian dušiyaram “famine,” literally “bad year”). Probably originally “that which makes [a complete cycle],” and from verbal root *ei- meaning “to do, make.”
On the south side of the Levant, a little later, we have the infamous Sea Peoples, most of whom, likely were Mediterranean or Anatolian IE raiders with names such as Pelesset, Lukka, Sherden, Shekelesh, Denyen and others. The Pelesset, once resettled by the pharaohs in south(ish) Canaan, may have become the Phillistines. It is certainly plausible that these groups, while initially IE, contained many “locals” and hangers on who swelled their ranks and, in time, may have become thoroughly Semitized, if you will. (Could the Hebrews themselves have come from Caucasian Iberia?) But the story may well be the same as the story of the Varangian Rus who, in time, became Suavicized but produced rulers for the East Suavs for years to come (and, arguably, brought or at least rekindled the worship of Thor/Piorun).
In fact, to bring this back to Jassa and Jehova, there are intriguing hints in the Bible itself that this is the same God in original conception – an Indo-European God of the agricultural lifecycle (perhaps associated with both the Sun and the Moon). The Bible, of course, does not deny that the Bible’s variant – Jehova or YHWH – had been worshipped throughout the world before appearing to Abraham (obviously so given the adventures of Adam, Cain and Noah with his children). Abraham, moreover, is Abram before he (or God) throws in Ham into his name. He is married to Sarai who becomes Sarah (can it be Šarrat – queen?). Yet, the match of Abram and Sarai is suspiciously close to that of Brahma (which, for example, in Polish to this day means as much as “gate”) and Sarasvati.
Curiously, Moses (whose name is probably Egyptian in origin) does not know the Name of God. He finds out the name when cavorting with Jethro whose name suggests an IE root as well as connection with Yahwe. And Jethro is, supposedly, a priest. He is a “priest of Midian.” But what kind of a priest is he? Scholars have for a number of years suspected that he was a priest of Yahwe and that it was from him that Moses (assuming historicity) learned of Yahwe’s worship. Midian is in the SE of the area – towards Arabia (but East) but the MIdianite name is suggestive of IE roots. After all, we have the Medes who are known to ancient writers as residing east of the Pontic-Caspian steppe. (We also have Media and Jason).
Even the name Yahwe (apparently with no certain etymology so far in any Semitic language), seems to be explainable through IE as in the Polish jawa (java) meaning “consciousness/awareness/reality.” Alternatively, a connection could be made to the Suavic – chować – “to hide” or “to protect.” (Brückner is confused in assuming that ch < sk). Perhaps, Jaś hides or Is Hidden or it is a prayer for protection. The Name appears in the Levant about the same time (roughly – not to overstate it) as the Sea Peoples’ invasions.
Incidentally, I have never been a believer that Jove comes from Deus. Deva in Suavic has a female connotation and Devus/Zeus might simply mean the “Womanizer”. Just think of Thor. The fact that a Thunder God is a womanizer could be explained by an association of lightning strikes against the Earth with, well, you know what. More likely, we have here two separate Deities – of the Sky (Jove/Sol Indiges/Jassa/Odin, perhaps too Janus) and of Thunder (Zeus/Piorun/Thor). The fact that the Romans over hundreds of years screwed this up in their panoply of Deities should not confuse the issue. (Whether the Thunder God was originally an aspect of the Sky God, I leave to others). Some signs of this may, arguably (ok, very arguably, all this is, of course, rather major speculation), found in the Bible. For example, we have the strange mention that “God came from Teman, and the Holy One from Mount Paran.” Contrary to the monotheistic interpretation, this suggests Two separate Persons. Looking at Suavic mythology (and IE more generally) what this looks like is God – Jassa – Iasion – Esus and another Deity. The name of the other Deity is suggested by the name of the mountain – Paran meaning as much as Piorun/Peron (living in the Pyrennes) – the IE Storm God. That is Jassa/Piorun, Odin/Thor, Esus/Taranis.
Putting the dual character of the Sky and Storm Divinity aside, there is, in fact, a whole series of books designed to suggest that Yahwe – at least as originally brought into the ME region – was a Sun (but also maybe a Moon?) God and did have a consort or, at least, a (female) counterpart – Ashera (Astarte/ Aušra/ Aušrinė/ Ostera/ Isis/ Demeter/ Lada?). Of course, each people will develop their Gods to their liking and, of course, the later (especially Deuteronomistic/2nd Temple) monotheistic (monopolistic) Yahwe may well be different from the initial conception.
The name David itself could be interpreted as “Gift of God” or of the Lord with the IE “da” to give and “vit” as in vitas (Baltic). One could also explain Isra-el with the genitive, that is, El (God) of Iser. This is, of course, a major stretch and huge speculation. Nevertheless, the words issa/issera appear throughout Europe and it is hard to believe that they reflect any Semitic Exodus into Europe. A more likely correct theory is that they are IE. In Suavic, for example, you have jezioro/ozero meaning “lake”. This word also appears in Anatolia. Krahe referred to these hydronyms as Old European but that just means he did not know what to do with them. Others have used the term “Illyrian” – another placeholder for our ignorance. (This hypothetical influence on the Levant, if in fact true, is IE – not Suavic per se, of course, as there likely were no Suavs back then, at least as we understand them today).
(Similarly rooted words designate eating (jeść), being (jest) or mouth (usta). Other curious connections can be drawn to “egg” (jajo/jajko – itself a strange connection to the idea of the “origin” – at least of a “lizard/bird” type of origin) and ride but also, in effect, move/flow (jechać). These are all ancient and I suspect predate the 2nd millennium B.C.)
To be sure the influences could have been mutual. For example, the river Ister is also known as the Donau/Danube which, like the much more eastern Don (a source also of words like the Italian “don”) is sometimes derived from the same root. Now, we do know that Adonis/Adonai have a Semitic etymology and refer to a (or the) Lord. We further known that IEs (Suavs being one well known example) worshipped rivers and so here you have an “Ister” the Don (compare Tamissa and other similar names; remember too Isaac). So does this mean that the word “don” is really IE or, does it mean that some Semitic speakers were up north by the Danube (and Vennemann is right) or, does it mean that the concept behind the word don was incorporated (along with Adonis) into the Greek and then other IE vocabulary?
(Other interesting examples exist; there is a chronic IE (Vedic) Deity called Yama (the origin of which Deity may be a word like the Polish jama, meaning “cave” or “opening”). In the Canaanite religion there is a somewhat comparable Yam or Yamm who is a water/sea God).
A connection may also exist from genetics. The haplogroup R1a was discovered in large proportions in some Jews. This, of course, immediately got politicized into the so-called Khazar hypothesis whose primary purpose seemed to be (or at least quickly became) to delegitimize Israel. A more in depth analysis seems to have revealed that the R1a version found was not, in fact, European. So the Khazar crap is gone but the question still remains – who were these people? After all, R1a did not originate in Judea and Samaria. Maybe it came from the Exile in Babylonia but maybe it arrived much earlier – note that the type of R1a is of the same (general) branch (Z93) that the Indian Brahmins (and others in India/Pakistan/Afghanistan) sport and we do know that India was at that time invaded (or, if you prefe, immigrated into) by at least some Pontic-Caspian steppe dwellers.
Modern historians generally believe that the Exodus was a myth and that most of the ancient Israeli population was, in fact, local. While this counter-biblical narrative may suit the current political needs, it is, perhaps, also correct. However, that does not mean that there is no kern truth to the story or that, if such story were in some aspect correct, that the people who set out as part of this exile group were, in fact, the same people that later became part of the Israeli kingdoms – the vast majority of whom may well have been local – again, the Rus conquest of the Suavs may be suggestive of the possible answer. (Tacitus mentions a story of Jewish origin in Crete which by mid 2nd millenium B.C. would almost certainly have been IE).
In other words, I suspect that not only was Esus not Jesus but that Jesus was named for a Deity of the Sun/Moon/Rebirth – perhaps originally a human hero such as Jason – introduced, perhaps, into the Levant – in different forms – by polytheistic Indo-European marauders (either from Egypt (“Sea Peoples”) or from the North) – a Deity whose worship/memory kept on going on the Continent in the form of Esus in Gall, of Iasion (Jason too perhaps) in Greece, of the Aesir in Scandinavia and of Jassa in Poland.
Thus, neither the Suavs nor any other northern tribe are any “lost tribe of Israel” which would have been a much more recent post-Exilic concept (that is from the 2nd Temple time; putting aside the notion that such tribes would likely not have existed by the time of Babylonian Captivity). More likely, unless, of course, Vennemann is right, the origin of all three of Levant’s religions is to be sought away in the North – perhaps in Mycenae, perhaps in Anatolia (the north part of which – incidentally, the “Venetic” part – was “Ashkenaz”), or even further north. The fact that Mycaneans used the hexapetal rosette – later identified with Esus – a few hundred years before any possible Exodus, is, at the very least, suggestive.
Naturally, the locals subsequently shaped their religions as they saw fit/appropriate for their circumstances and needs. Yahwe may have initially been a fertility/rebirth/Sun God as conceived by the IEs, may then have become a war God and, as Jews were exiled, Yahwe’s characterisics may have changed again to fit the requirements of the moment. That reworking served also after the fall of the Second Temple. Similarly, Jassa/jasion the rebirth/fertility/Sun/Moon Deity of the Suavs also, with the advent of the Frankish/Saxon wars, seems to have been forced into an Ares/war God form under the later name Gerovit.
Of course, this may all just go back to Osiris. (I leave the question of an earlier Egyptian – Mesopotamian connection to others).
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A most curious name pops up in Adam of Bremen’s “History of the Archbishops of Hamburg-Bremen” – the name of an alleged Suavic Deity of the Redarii tribe – Redigast.
Adam’s Deity
As Adam seemed to be describing the same area as that previously described earlier by Thietmar where the Redarii’s’ chief Deity’s name is Zuarazici but this Zuarazici is worshipped in a town named Riedegost, a fight immediately broke out among various Suavic scholars whether the Deity’s name was really Svarozic or Redagost/Radagost.
Thietmar’s town
The German scholar Alexander Brückner famously quipped that Adam got himself mixed up and Redagost/Radagost was the name of the local tavern and the name Svarozic was the right one. He translated Radagost as “Rady Gość” that is essentially meaning “Happy guest.” From there it was a simple path to conclude that Adam mistook the name of an inn or tavern for a Suavic cultic place. Most academics are not exactly Mensa stars and so they largely went along with the mocking conclusions of Brückner’s faux erudition. Some clung on by ascribing to Radagost the celestial portfolio of hospitality. That last bit certainly seems to have been a stretch but whatever one may say about the Deity Name, it seems to me that they were wrong to adopt the tavern explanation.
The answer may be in the word gwozd, gozd or gozdawa, that is a “forest” or, perhaps, a “tree”. Today the name continues in Polish in the word for “nail” (gwóźdź) and for a carnation (goździk, that is a “little tree”). As discussed, the same word appears in the Suavic (and Baltic) word for “star” – gwiazda suggesting that the ancient Suavs looked at the night sky as basically a heavenly wood. Curiously, the Breton (Armorican Venetic?) word for “trees” is, similarly, gwez. Since we do know that ancient Suavs (like “Germans”) worshipped trees and groves, Redagost/Radagost would simply mean a “Happy Grove” – perhaps a place of worship – a sacred grove. Thus, Rethra was the name of the town in this telling, the Sacred Forest was called by its Suavic appellation – Radagast – and the Deity worshipped there could have been, among others, Svarozic.
That the “tavern” etymology is doubtful is indicated by the fact that the name is quite widespread. It appears throughout Central Europe.
Poland
Czech Republic
Germany
Ukraine
* exact location uncertain – this could have been in Belarus.
Belarus
* exact location uncertain
Italy
Here is a map of all of these places (some are an approximation).
These names can rather easily be linked to forest that previously covered vast swaths of these countries or to local worship groves but linking them to roadside inns seems a much tougher goal to achieve.
That all these place names have a Suavic etymology no one seriously doubts. With the exception of the Bologna reference, every place they appear is a place where Suavs have lived or are living still (sometimes, in Germania Suavica, Suavs qua Germans).
But then we come to a puzzle. There is also a much earlier (half a millennium) mention of a Goth, a “true Scythian” who threatened Rome and its senators in the very early 5th century – his name was Radagaisus. This brings up the question of what language the admittedly multi-ethnic Goths really spoke and, as the vast throngs of humanity poured into the Roman Empire how much Goth was there really in the Goths? More on Radagaisus and the sources that mention him soon.
PS That Tolkien took the name of Radagast the Brown from the above ancient European histories is obvious. What some people do not know is that the Tolkien name is likely Old Prussian, derived from the village of Tołkiny (the Old Prussian Tolkyn) in the former East Prussia and today’s north Poland.
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Thessalonica had been attacked by the Slavs sometime in the early 600s – on that see the Miracles of Saint Demetrius (here & here). John Kaminiates was a Greek resident of the city three centuries later. This time, in 904, the city was being attacked (and was, in fact, sacked) by Muslim Arabs from across the Mediterranean in Tripoli.
Arabs sacking Thessalonica in 904
Thanks to John Kaminiates we have an account of these events in his “On the Capture of Thessalonica” (Εις την άλωσιν της Θεσσαλονίκης, Eis tēn alōsin tēs Thessalonikēs). The book was, apparently, written while John was in Arab captivity. The translation is by David Frendo and Athanasios Fotiou.
Chapter 6
“We have given an adequate description of the eastern and northern part of the city and also of the southern part. Now let us try to depict as best we can the general layout of the western part. There is another plain which starts at the Jetty Wall, follows the contour of the mountain on the right, borders the sea on the left and presents the beholder with a spectacle of beauty. For that part which can claim some proximity to both the city and the sea is plentifully irrigated, decked out with vineyards, copses and gardens and adorned with innumerable dwellings and chapels, most of which have been divided up and held in common by companies of monks, who practise every kind of virtue (!) and live for God alone, towards whom they strive and on account of whom they left the turmoil of civic life and undertook to follow the path that leads to Him alone.”
“After that, the plain extends inland for a great distance with mostly treeless vegetation, but with good agricultural land. It continues to stretch in a westerly direction until it reaches another range of lofty mountains, at which point is situated a city called Beroea. It is a famous city in its own right both with regard to its inhabitants and to all the other qualities on which a city pins its faith.”
“In its central portion tihis plain also contains a mixture of villages, some of whose inhabitants, the Drougoubitai and the Sagoudatoi as they are called, pay their taxes to the city, while others pay tribute to the Scythians* who live not far from the border. Yet the villages and their inhabitants live very dose to one another, and the close commercial relations that are maintained with the Scythians are a considerable asset to the citizens of Thessaloniki as well, especially when both parties stay on friendly terms with each other and refrain from any violent measures that lead to confrontation and armed conflict. They share a common lifestyle and exchange commodities in perfect peace and harmony, and this has been their policy for some not inconsiderable time past. Mighty rivers, rising from the land of the Scythians, divide among themselves the aforesaid plain, and they lavish much abundance on the city through supplying it with fish and through being navigable upstream by seagoing vessels, as a result of which a cunningly contrived assortment of profits from commodities flows down those waters.”
* note: By Scythians he means Bulgarians.
Chapter 20
“Nevertheless, when, after the strategies’ injury, all responsibility for our welfare devolved upon Niketas, he too plead his part to the best of his ability. He said that a great number of Sklavenes from the territories, both those who paid us tribute and those who who were under jurisdiction of the strategies of Strymon, had been instructed to come up to the city, so that thanks to their skill in archery we might perhaps not be found inferior even in weaponry to our enemies, but have at our disposal the means of repelling their first onslaught. And he eagerly set about accomplishing this plan. He wrote letters which he had dispatched thought the whole adjoining region. In these he urged the Sklavenes and their retainers to come to us with all speed, each man arming himself as heavily as he could. But only a few peasants responded to his appeal, a wholly inadequate force, few in number and totally unprepared for battle. This state of affairs had been brought about by the incompetence and dishonesty of the commanders who had been put in charge of the these men were more concerned with their own advantage that with the common good, habitually intriguing against their associates, madly intent on taking bribes and well-versed in the art of preferring this type of acquisition to all others. On two, three, indeed on several different occasions the aforesaid Niketas tried by means of a letter to frighten the strategies of Strymon into action, accusing him of procrastination and intimating that, if the city were to suffer any harm as a result of the present peril, he would denounce him to the emperor as solely responsible for what had happened. But the fellow clung just as obstinately as before to his habitual folly. Without fear or respect for God or man and thinking nothing of the destruction of so great a city, he resolved that neither he for his part, nor any of his subordinates, should come to our aid when we were in such dire straits. Instead, he misled us right up to the last day of the war into believing that he would appear at any moment, playing unknown to us, the accomplice in a plot to bring about our downfall , and laughing up his sleeve at the disaster which engulfed us.”
Chapter 21
“Thus, we were deceived in the hopes which we entertained of our Sklavene allies. Yet we were no mere handful of men but were easily up to the required numerical strength and far exceeded that of the barbarian army. Nevertheless, our complete inexperience of warfare and lack of previous training made an enemy attack the object of limitless fear and trepidation. And in particular it seemed to us a bad sign that we had not managed to contrives any means of defense against this contingency.”
“Meanwhile, recourse to flight would have been an ignoble act, since it would inevitably have resulted in the capture of the city and the theft of all the ornaments made of gold, silver and other valuable materials belonging to the places of worship already referred to, or in the destruction by fire of the holy churches themselves. At the same time, even if we contrived to avoid suffering harm at the hands of the barbarians, we would not know how to assuage the emperor’s displeasure. Yet, such a policy would have been bearable and would have guaranteed our safety, however much the bare mention of such things might have sounded like a fate worse than death to those individuals who had never really known the meaning of adversity. For a people used only to a soft and luxurious life style, and with no previous military training to have to take such momentous decisions, that was a thought that filled us with horror and fairly drove us to distraction.”
Chapter 25
“But when that wild beast had surveyed the entire extent of the wall and had noticed that the entrance to the harbour was barred by an iron chain and obstructed by the sunken hulks of a number of ships, he decided to launch his attack just at those points which he perceived to be free of those blocks of stone which, lurking on the seabed where they had earlier been placed, impeded the access of his ships and where his fleet would not be under heavier fire from that part of the wall which had already been built up to some considerable height. He chose a location, in fact, where a great depth of sea water beat against a particularly low stretch of wall, made a careful note of his position, and then, returning to his men, gave the signal for battle. They swooped down with their ships towards those points which had been described to them, letting out harsh and savage cries and rowing furiously in the direction of the wall. And banging on rawhide drums, they raised a fearful din, and they tried with many other kinds of bluff to frighten the defenders on the battlements. But those who were manning the wall shouted back even louder and invoked the aid of the saving weapon of the cross against the enemy forces. And they did this to such an effect that the barbarians, at the sound of so many people uttering a cry more fearsome than any they had previously heard, were dazed for a while and did not expect to achieve anything. Estimating the numbers of the citizens from the loudness of their shouts, they concluded that it would be no easy matter to enter the fray against such odds and to sack so great a city, the like of which they had never seen. Nevertheless, in order not to create the impression of having lost their nerve at the start of their offensive, they advanced neither fearlessly, nor with the rage which they later displayed, but with a certain blend of frenzy and fear, protecting themselves against their opponents by means of a barrage of missiles. Then their approach became more reckless and they strove to bring the fighting nearer, rousing themselves to fury like barking dogs and thoroughly enraged by the weapons that were hurled down at them from the wall. The citizens, in fact, were anything but remiss in their use of archery, and used it to great and conspicuous effect by stationing all the Sklavenes gathered from the neighbouring regions at those points from which it was easiest to shoot accurately and where there was nothing to deflect the momentum of their missiles.”
Chapter 41
“Exactly the same thing happened at the other gate, known as the Litaia Gate. Of the other gates, as we pointed out, those leading to the sea had been occupied in advance by the barbarians, whereas we ourselves had previousty blocked up three facing east, fearing in their case also the enemy’s strategem of setting fire to them, something which we had already experienced to our cost with the outer gates of the fortification. Consequently, people sensed helplessly that their escape was barred from all sides and floundered hopelessly about the streets, encountering death at every turn. Only a few, a mere handful, threw themselves from the walls at the western end of the harbour and leaped to safety. Certain others had saved their lives by surreptitiously slipping away through the gate near the Acropolis before disaster struck.
These men were the leaders of the Sklavenes, who had long been rehearsing this move, having previously gone so far as to steal the keys to the gates in question. But they should, in view of the critical nature of the situation, have allowed everyone who happened to be around at the time to avail himself of the opportunity to escape. Had they done so, many of those who happened to be in the area before the barbarians attacked would have avoided death. But they had no time for such a notion. They were far too busy looking after their own welfare, and in a move aimed exclusively at warding off danger from [to] themselves, they pushed the wings of the gate ajar and made a speedy exit, leaving one of their number on the spot to shut the gate behind them. In this way they treacherously undermined the safety of everybody on that occasion too, under the specious and lying pretext that they were not fleeing but were going to collect allies from the Strymon area, pretending that this was at the express command of the strategos.”
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This comes from the Yearbooks of Friends of Antiquity Society in the Rheinland (Jahrbücher des Vereins von Alterthumsfreunden im Rheinlande), volume 7.
I discussed the same inscription some time back here along with others mentioned by the society:
Minerva is, of course, the same as Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom, courage, war, law, etc. She is given the epithet Pallas, a word that is derived either from πάλλω (to brandish [a weapon]), or from παλλακίς (also an interesting fact – note that in Russian palyanka meant a brave woman) and related words, meaning “youth” that is a “young woman.” She is also the protector of the palace and the king. She was the daughter of Zeus.
Lada is, as we know, has been called “Mars” by Długosz who also, elsewhere, called her a Mazovian Goddess. These statements are reconcilable if you interpret the Goddess as a warrior Goddess. In other words, Długosz would not have been saying that Lada was Mars but merely that Mars was the closest analogy to Lada in his interpretatio romana of the Polish Pantheon.
Of course, Brueckner objected that Lada was just a Slavic name for the “betrothed” or “wife.” The interesting thing is, as I pointed out some time back that Lada in Lycian (!) (Lycia in Anatolia) meant the exact same thing (see here).
What escaped my notice that the author of the above (L.J.F. Janssen) also made the claim that not only was Lada the word for a “wife” in Lycian (that is what Gemahlin that is Ehefrau, Ehegattin, Gattin, Frau means in this context) but that – in Lycia – Lada was the wife/betrothed of Jupiter. The source of this assertion, he does not give.
Długosz claimed that Jesse or Jassa was the equivalent of Jupiter (though not that Jassa was Jupiter) in the Polish pantheon. If so, then the matching of both Jassa and Lada by him as well as by earlier writers makes complete sense. Lada is the Athena female wife-protector of Jassa – a bit of an Amazon warrior princess from Mazovia.
Of course, Athena had a complicated relationship with Zeus to say the least. But, again, there is nothing to indicate a similar relationship between Jassa and Lada. If Jassa corresponds better to the Greek Iasion then Lada would have been his companion/consort/female protector. Perhaps a bit like Demeter. Note too that in Polish and a number of Suavic languages the names of the seasons correspond to the above Names:
It is worth noting that Iasion’s namesake, Jason, was also assisted on his quest by Athena. For similar connections between Jove and Lada from Spain see here. For an English connection (?), see here. For more on the Amazonic connection see here.
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To come up with elaborate theories based on the following would be foolish and premature but, upon finding it, it is difficult to view this description as not remarkable.
Erman
This comes from Adolph Erman’s Aegypten und Aegyptischenes Leben im Altertum. Similar descriptions were made in Karl Heinrich Brugsch’s Religion und mythologie der alten Ägypter and they made they way to James Frazer’s “The Golden Bough”.
Frazer
Here we have ancient Egyptian rites culminating with the erection of a pillar which was referred to as Tatu, Tat, or Ded. This was, seemingly, according to Frazer, very much like a Słup Majowy – a Maypole.
Frazer makes an interesting observation about all this by noting that these Egyptian rites for the dead Osiris took place in the month of Athyr. This month corresponds to November. Since Frazer views this as a harvest festival he has to explain how a harvest festival could be celebrated in November when it is known that – in Egypt – the harvest falls in April. Of course, the harvest in the North, such as in Poland, falls between the middle of June and the middle of August. But… when did the harvest occur in Poland back 4,500 years ago? In any event, we all know that the festival of the dead, Dziady, falls on or about All Saints Day, that is November 1.
For more wacky Egyptian “Slavic” stuff see here and here.
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