How Do You Say "Snow" in Latin? In Indo-European?

Since I'm sitting looking out the window at a blizzard unfolding, I was reflecting on the word for snow in Latin and how it survives in related languages.

My car. Right now.

The word for snow in Latin in nix (nivis in the genitive case). Based on the nominative form nix we might assume the word is from the root nig- or nic- (compare rex, regis, 'king' and pax, pacis, 'peace'). But the genitive form nivis seems to imply that the root is niv-, also implied by the adjective niveus, 'snowy-white'.

On the other hand, the Latin verb 'to snow' is ninguo, ninguere. 

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If you're interested in Latin or ancient history, or even just an entertaining read, check out the time-travel thriller In Saecula Saeculorum. Click to learn more.

It's a bargain at 0.99 cents on Kindle (or affordably priced at $11.90 on paperback). 

You'll travel back to ancient Rome on a harrowing mission to save the modern world. It's the adventure of four lifetimes.

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Our English word snow is a cognate with nivis, sharing the n and the w sound (v was pronounced as a w in Classical times).  This would seem to be yet further evidence that the original Indo-European root indeed was niv-.

But then the Romance languages themselves muddy the waters.  In Spanish we have nieve, a vote for niv-. Italian has neve. But then French has neige. Romanian has nins, but also the word zăpadă, which means snow after it has fallen on the ground. But the verb 'to snow' in Romanian in ninge. 

The solution to this mystery comes when we broaden the study to the wider Indo-European language family. 

When I embark on a philological adventure, I run straight to Lithuanian. Somehow that language preserved a baffling degree of linguistic antiquity. I have a Lithuanian friend, Elisa, an astounding linguist who speaks her native Lithuanian, but also Russian, Spanish, French, Esperanto, and English.

The word for snow in Lithuanian is sniegas.

The Russian word is снег (sneg).

Scholars of Indo-European have concluded that the original Indo-European word for snow has the root form *sneigwh. Some languages kept the initial s. Others preserved the g in various forms. Other forms lost the g but kept the w.

One thing we can conclude from the existence of an Indo-European word for snow is that they saw the stuff wherever their homeland was. Unfortunately, this fact does not really tip the scales at all for the various proponents of either an Anatolian origin or the Pontic Steppe. 

But either way, it's amazing to consider that as much as ten thousand years ago, one of my distant ancestors looked out the opening of her tent and saw a scene similar to what I see out my window. She called the stuff *sneigwh. I still call it snow.

For your amusement, my Latin language version of "Do You Want To Build a Snowman?"

Iter in Aulam Memoriae - A Journey into the Memory Palace

Grading final exams has me once again face to face with the quandary of how to teach vocabulary. Some did quite well, others didn't know words that I spent considerable time trying to reinforce. As a successful self-taught language learner, I know the secret that there is no such thing as teaching someone else vocabulary, or anything for that matter. Ultimately, one simply must teach themselves, that is to say, take responsibility for spending the time necessary to commit these facts somehow to memory.

My most successful student displayed on her final exam traces of the method she must have used in part to achieve her impressive vocabulary acquisition. She had drawn little pictures next to some of her answers that matched images from the stories in which we learned these words. By visualizing words with some memorable add-ons, many learners find that they can retrieve the words more efficiently when they need it.

The most developed version of this memory technique is to place  the words you want to memorize in some grid or architecture in your brain, through which you then imagine yourself walking. This is known as the

Method of Loci (Places), or the Memory Palace. It's quite an ancient method, discussed by Classical Greek thinkers, utilized by Renaissance men like da Vinci, and still widely used.

Basically, in this method, you picture yourself in some familiar setting, perhaps your own house, or another place you know well. You imagine the things you want to remember as being in specific locations of that place, coupled with memorable images.

Here's an example I used as a youth learning Latin in high school. The word tandem means 'at last, finally'. We had a tandem bike, my twin and I. I imagined us riding past someone on that bike. They saw the front tire, they saw me, then they saw my twin, then finally they saw the rear tire. I pictured this as taking place on Willard Avenue, Madison WI. And I have never forgotten the word since.

I recently stumbled upon someone who is about as close as you can come to a true Renaissance man in the modern world. Anthony Metivier is professionally involved in a dizzying range of pursuits, from music to film script writing. But he's best known for his advocacy of the Memory Palace method. If you're interested in learning anything from Spanish to Medical Terminology, Dr. Metivier has a book that will instruct you on how to apply the Memory Palace method.






Here are his books.  If you are interested in learning any of these topics, these books are an excellent place to start:

       

                                                            

A Dialogue with Latin

In my latest novel, In Saecula Saeculorum, a group of high school students have been unwittingly prepared to go back in time to Ancient Rome. They are sent on an important mission crucial to the survival of the planet. Once back in time, they will be speaking Latin with natives on a regular basis.

The Latin words I include in the dialogue of the novel are designed to lend authenticity to the exchanges, while not being off-putting to people who have never studied Latin. (Even so, the novel really will help Latin students solidify key phrases and vocabulary.)

I needed to make several important language decisions as I included the Latin, such as how to form basic greetings in Latin despite little original record of these things. I have my students ask me all the time, for instance, "Dr. Massey, How do you say 'Good Morning' in Latin?"

And I answer truthfully, we honestly don't know. Personally, I am big on the notion that Latin is not really a dead language at all. It evolved naturally into several quite robust living languages widely spoken today. And those living dialects of Latin are the best window into what was going on in the parent.

Let's take 'Good Morning' as an example. If we compare several of the living dialects, I believe we can reconstruct a probable Latin original.

Buongiorno (Italian)
Bună ziua (Romanian) In practice, bună dimineața is used for 'Good Morning')
Bonjour (French)
Buenos días (Spanish)

Only Spanish has pluralized the exchange. So in my novel, I have the students use the phrase Bona Dies for Good Morning.

Students of Latin are frequently taught that the words for 'yes' and 'no' are ita vero and minime respectively.

Again, I'm big on letting the living dialects have the larger vote on what the true spoken register was up to in ancient times.

'Yes' in our modern dialects is:

sì (Italian)
da (Romanian) I published an article in which I argue that Romanian da is descended from Latin ita.
oui (French) Si, however, is an emphatic word for 'yes' in French
sí (Spanish)

The Latin word Sic is the antecedent of sí in the living dialects. And it was a functional word for 'yes' in ancient times (See Terence, Phormio 813). And so, In Saecula Saeculorum uses the word Sic for 'yes' throughout.

By the same token, there is unanimity as to how Latin said 'no' as witnessed by the living dialects.

no (Italian)
nu (Romanian)
non (French)
no (Spanish)

And non was also used in ancient times (See Terence, Phormio 211). As a result, Non is how you say 'no' in my novel In Saecula Saeculorum. 

To see how I introduce Latin dialogue into the novel, check out an excerpt from the beginning of the novel. 

Thanksgiving in Latin

Young and the Restless actor and Francophone Christian Le Blanc just tweeted:
I'm fascinated to learn here that French has preserved from Latin the idiomatic pairing of the verb ago, agere, egi, actum (noun derivative actio, actionis) with the noun gratia, gratiae (French descendent grâce) to arrive at the phrase "to give thanks." (gratias ago, I give thanks, gratiarum actio, Thanksgiving,

As a Latin teacher, the verb agere is an endless pain to explain to students. They reasonably just want to know what a Latin word means. And in the case of this verb, I have to tell them that agere is translated quite differently depending on the object it takes.

If you agere a chariot, it's "driving a chariot." If you agere thanks, it's "give thanks." If you agere business, it's "do business."

Another fun one is the verb gero, gerere, where you either "wear clothing" or "wage war."

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

The Origin of the Word "Romance"

The lastest in my new video blogging series.

The Origin of the Word "Romance"