Meillet and How the Veneti Discovered America – Part II

So where else does Meillet wander?

Argument 3?

He next proceeds to confess that the Slavic word for “stern”, that is, krma, крма, кормової, кърма, etc. is, in fact, Indo-European (note that this word does not appear in West Slavic languages – the Polish has a borrowing from the Dutch and the Czech and Slovak are too different – it’s not clear whether Meillet was even aware of this).  However, he notes that this is of no relevance since, of course, the back of the boat is of particular “importance” to the person who engages in paddling!  Why the back of the boat of the boat should be more relevant for the paddler than the rower (or, in fact, anyone who happens to be traveling on a boat) is left unclear  by Meillet and that is all that we will say about this.

Argument 4

Meillet then proceeds to argue that the Slavic name for an island indicates that this must be a river island.  He notes that this name is ostrovu (or ostrów) and that this means an island around which water flows.  He notes that the same concept is found in Indo-Iranian languages observing that the Sanksrit word for an island was dvipam meaning “water on both sides” and states that this concept only applies to a river island.  He also points to the dvaepa of the Avesta (but also maybe in Greek as per Meillet’s citation of Homer).

That ostrovu indicates a current flowing around something is unquestionable (same concept with the “str” of a “stream”).

Whether this has any bearing on the location of the Slavic “homeland” is quite another story.

First of all, the Slavic ostrovu does not feature any explicit concept of “two sides” (of whatever) that the Sanksrit version of the  island name seems to have.  Therefore, the Sanksrit parallel is of little use here.  We are not debating Sanskrit but Slavic vocabulary so let’s stick to Slavic words.

Second of all, a current can certainly flow around sea islands as well.   Ocean currents do exist and that is something that, presumably, Meillet was or should have been aware of.

Third, there is a fundamental problem here.  It may be that the “original” Slavic word for an island did have a “river” like connotation.  But the fact that such a name was then extended to sea islands tells us precisely nothing as to when that happened.  In other words, Slavs may well have called sea islands ostrovu already 2,000 BC in which case the whole discussion as to what their homeland remains completely impervious to the linguistic argument that Meillet raises.

One might observe that in German a lake is called a See but a “sea” is also a See.  And while German also has Meer (as does Slavic with its morje – incidentally, think of the north Gallic “Morini”), the English language does not and still calls a sea by the word “sea” (both from Proto-Germanic *saiwaz?) while using the mar concept for a “marsh”.  What precisely are we to conclude from this?  Presumably, that Germanic languages developed far from the seas and oceans?

Fourth, and this is again strange, Meillet forgets to mention some other Slavic names of islands. He notes that other IE languages use various names for the concept of an island (and in most of these cases their origin is, he says, “obscure”).  He mentions the Armenian kghzi, the Latin insula and the Greek νασος/νησί.  And yet, with all this vast knowledge of IE languages, he seems unaware of other Slavic names for an island.  

For example, in addition to ostrów, there is otok in Slovene and Polish (but also attested in Czech and Croat).  The concept of otok as in a place that is “surrounded” [by water] is similar to that of ostrów, except that it does not involve the concept of “flowing” around the island.  So ostrów minus the current.

Then there is the Polish wyspa (earlier wysep, wysop) whose age is precisely unclear.

Incidentally, he says that isla, insula is of uncertain derivation – may be – curiously, the Slavic Wisła (Vistula) may be broken to get an isla as in:

W-isła