Posts from January 2010

Now that we’ve seen the indirect relative clauses in the present and past tenses, let’s look at similar sentences in the future tense. 

 

As previously, we’ll look further at the verb “to be” and also a couple of regular verbs.  Eventually we’ll be working our way through the other ten irregular verbs Irish has and na foirmeacha diúltacha.   For those who aren’t exactly tugtha don ghramadach, we’ll have a sos soon, since both Lá Fhéile Bríde and Lá an Úitsigh are coming up, both topics I can’t resist, especially an t-úitseach, which I don’t think has often been discussed in Irish!. 

 

Let’s quickly review the verb “to be” in the present, past, and future tense in simple sentences (i.e. sentences without relative clauses).  Note the form “mbeidh,” since that’s the one we’ll be using for the future tense of our clásal coibhneasta neamhdhíreach. 

 

Aimsir láithreach: Tá an lá go breá.  An bhfuil an lá go breá?  Tá, tá an lá go breá.

(The day is fine.  is the day fine?  Yes, the day is fine).

 

Aimsir chaite: Bhí an lá go breá.  An raibh an lá go breá?  Bhí, bhí an lá go breá. 

 (The day was fine.  Was the day fine?  Yes, the day was fine). 

 

Aimsir fháistineach: Beidh an lá go breá.  An mbeidh an lá go breá?  Beidh, beidh an lá go breá.  (The day will be fine.  Will the day be fine?  Yes, the day will be fine).

 

The “mbeidh,” “raibh” and “bhfuil” forms of the verbs “beidh,” “bhí.” and “tá” are called the “foirmeacha spleácha.”  They are used in certain types of questions and also in indirect relative clauses. 

 

Remember the last blog’s examples for the present and past tenses:

Sin é an fear atá tinn.  That is the man who is ill. 

Sin é an fear a bhfuil a mhac tinn.  That is the man whose son is ill. 

Sin é an fear a bhí tinn.   That is the man who was sick.

Sin é an fear a raibh a mhac tinn.   That is the man whose son was sick. 

 

Now let’s add the future.  Agus “dea-scéal” anseo!  Although “beidh” is part of the irregular verb “to be,” it’s not as irregular as “” and “bhí” are.  I bhfocail eile, we don’t switch to a completely different root like we did with tá / bhfuil and bhí / raibh.  Now we just have plain old urú (eclipsis).  Did you ever think that just eclipsis would look so good?

 

Here are the same sentences in the future tense, first direct, then indirect:

Díreach: Sin é an fear a bheidh tinn.  That is the man who will be ill.

Neamhdhíreach: Sin é an fear a mbeidh a mhac tinn.  That is the man whose son will be ill. 

 

Not that I can really imagine much context for using these sentences.  Unless you’re Livia, as played by Siân Phillips in I, Claudius.  She seemed to know when every last mother’s son would be ill — without even resorting to fáistineacht (augury).  Meas tú sin anois!

 

Let’s wrap up, as we’ve been doing, with the same regular verbs we’ve used before (bris, tóg), but now in the future tense.  Here, all we have to do is eclipse the verb.  Ailliliú!

 

Oh, and just a little reminder for anyone really new to na briathra.  The future tense endings we’ll be using here are “–fidh” and “–faidh,” both pronounced “hee” (the “f” is pronounced like an “h”).  With eclipsis, we’ll get “mbrisfidh” and “dtógfaidh.”  

 

Brisfidh an fear an fhuinneog.  Sin é an fear a bhrisfidh an fhuinneog.  Sin é an fear a mbrisfidh a mhac an fhuinneog.  (The man will break the window.  Direct: That’s the man who will break the window.  Indirect: That’s the man whose son will break the window). 

 

Tógfaidh an slíbhín an t-airgead.  Sin é an slíbhín a thógfaidh an t-airgead.  Sin é an slíbhín a dtógfaidh a mhac an t-airgead. 

 

So, now we’ve done na foirmeacha díreacha agus na foirmeacha neamhdhíreacha san aimsir láithreach, san aimsir chaite, agus san aimsir fháistineach.  Mh’anam!

 

Of course, we’ve just been sticking to the “whose” type of sentences.  I’ll drum up some additional examples with the prepositional constructions (like “That’s the man to whom I gave the money).  And we’ll do some negatives soon and get back to those other ten briathra neamhrialta.  Ach roimhe sin, beidh sos againn ón ngramadach!

Nótaí: diúltach, negative; tugtha do [TUG-huh duh], fond of; spleách [splawkh], dependent; brisfidh [BRISH-hee] will break; tógfaidh [TOHG-hee] will take

Now that we’ve seen the indirect relative clauses in the present tense, let’s look at similar sentences in the past tense. 

 

If that sounds like a bolgam mór gramadaí, you’re right.  But I think it’s the only way to really get to the heart of the matter regarding relative clauses.  Today, we’ll look further at the verb “to be” and also a couple of regular verbs.  Eventually we’ll work our way through the other ten irregular verbs Irish has, and move on to the future tense and na foirmeacha diúltacha.  The good news?” you might ask, plea, beg, or cajole.  As we work through in the next few blogs, we’ll also stop for some fun stuff, like Lá Fhéile Bríde, Lá an Úitsigh (i Meiriceá), and Lá Vailintín.  Maybe even Lá na nUachtarán (i Meiriceá freisin), if the excruciating detail continues to excruciate past the middle of Feabhra.

 

First we’ll look at the verb “to be,” using its “raibh” form (not “bhí”).  You may remember the pattern:

 

Aimsir láithreach: Tá an lá go breá.  An bhfuil an lá go breá?  Tá, tá an lá go breá.

(The day is fine.  is the day fine?  Yes, the day is fine).

 

Aimsir chaite: Bhí an lá go breá.  An raibh an lá go breá?  Bhí, bhí an lá go breá. 

 (The day was fine.  Was the day fine?  Yes, the day was fine). 

 

The “raibh” and “bhfuil” forms of the verbs “bhí” and “tá” are called the “dependent forms.”  They are used in certain types of questions and also in indirect relative clauses. 

 

Remember the last blog’s examples:

Sin é an fear atá tinn.  That is the man who is ill. 

Sin é an fear a bhfuil a mhac tinn.  That is the man whose son is ill. 

 

Let’s look at that in the past tense:

Sin é an fear a bhí tinn.   That is the man who was sick.

Sin é an fear a raibh a mhac tinn.   That is the man whose son was sick. 

 

So, we’ve started with the verb “to be,” since it’s so widely used.  However, the irregularity of this verb “to be” somewhat disguises the pattern of what’s actually happening. 

 

If we look at our regular verbs (bris, tóg), the pattern will be clearer.  The particle “ar” (not “a”) is used before the regulars, and it is followed by lenition:

 

Bhris an fear an fhuinneog.  Sin é an fear a bhris an fhuinneog.  Sin é an fear ar bhris a mhac an fhuinneog.  (The man broke the window.  Direct: That’s the man who broke the window.  Indirect: That’s the man whose son broke the window). 

 

Thóg an slíbhín an t-airgead.  Sin é an slíbhín a thóg an t-airgead.  Sin é an slíbhín ar thóg a mhac an t-airgead. 

 

These forms with “ar” might look familiar.  If so, that’s because they look like the forms you’d use to ask questions in the past tense (Ar bhris sé an fhuinneog?  Ar thóg an slíbhín an t-airgead?)

 

Bhuel, sin é don bhlag seo.  Hard to make much of a cliffhanger ending to irregular verbs in indirect relative clauses! 

This is probably the arena where most of the confusion with clásail choibhneasta starts to set in.  Remember how the “” form of the verb “to be” changes drastically (to “bhfuil”) for the question form?  You’ve probably seen this if you’ve done day one of almost any Irish language course.  Here’s an example, just for a refresher:

 

Tá an lá go breá.  An bhfuil an lá go breá?  Tá, tá an lá go breá. 

Not the world’s most exciting set of sentences but another good workhorse example (The day is fine.  Is the day fine?  Yes, the day is fine). 

 

For the indirect relative clause, we’re going to use the “bhfuil” form, as long as our base verb is “tá” (one of the present tenses of the verb “to be”).   Eventually we’ll expand all this to include such goodies as “raibh,” “bhfaighidh,” and “n-íosfadh,” but for now, let’s just contrast “tá” with “bhfuil” in relative clauses.

 

The indirect relatives clauses are used to express concepts such as “whose,” “to whom,” “by whom,” “for whom,” etc.  In other words, indirect relative clauses are used when the subject of the second clause isn’t the same as the subject of the first clause but is related indirectly to that first subject.  This blog will probably only have room to show examples of “whose” and we’ll save “to whom,” etc., for blag eile.   Somehow this is all reminding me of Michaleen Oge’s speech in The Quiet Man about the party of the first part and the party of the second part, but, The Quiet Man, sin ábhar do bhlag eile. 

 

Remember the last blog’s examples:

 

Sin é an fear atá tinn.  That is the man who is ill. 

The man you’re pointing out (by saying “sin é”) is also the subject of the second clause (he’s the one who is ill). 

 

Now contrast:

Sin é an fear a bhfuil a mhac tinn.  That is the man whose son is ill. 

Switch the verb to the “bhfuil” form, add a second subject (the son), and, hey, presto! — you’ve got an indirect relative clause!

 

We’ll save the past and future tenses for yet another blog but for now will simply show a few more examples of this in the present, to emphasize one more point about the indirects.  The verb introducing the second clause for these types of sentences gets eclipsed (gets the “urú”).  Since we always see “bhfuil” already eclipsed in modern Irish spelling, the fact that it’s eclipsed here isn’t particularly noticeable.  So let’s look at a couple of regular verbs (briseann, tógann) whose eclipsis will be obvious:

 

Briseann an mac an fhuinneog.  Sin é an fear a mbriseann a mhac an fhuinneog.

(The son breaks the window.  That is the man whose son breaks the window). 

Eclipsis: the initial “b” of “briseann” changes to the “mb” of “mbriseann” [MRISH-un]

  

And backtracking just a bit, if the man himself breaks the window, we’d be back to the direct relative clause (with lenition/séimhiú): Sin é a fear a bhriseann an fhuinneog (That’s the man who breaks the window).  Of course, we hope it isn’t a habit with him, but that’s beyond our control!

 

And one more set, and that’s it for today:

 

Tógann an mac an t-airgead.  Sin é an slíbhín a dtógann a mhac an t-airgead.

The son takes the money.  That is the sly person whose son takes the money. 

Eclipsis: tógann becomes “dtógann” [DOH-gun]

 

Now if it was the sleeveen himself taking the money, the sentence would be:

Sin é an slíbhín a thógann an t-airgead.  But the previous example focused on “mac an tslíbhín,” whose behavior we might have predicted from the proverbial wisdom, in its various forms: “An cleas a bhíonn ag an deaid, bíonn sé ag an mac” or “Toradh an chrainn fána bhun,” both more or less saying, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”   

 

Is deas iad na seanfhocail mar nimhíoc ar an ngramadach!   

 

Nótaí: díreach [DJEER-ukh] direct; neamh- [nyow] un-, non-, in-, etc.; neamhdhíreach [NYOW-YEER-ukh] indirect; Michaleen Oge in full-fledged Irish would be “Micilín Óg,” but the movie anglicizes the spelling; nimhíoc [niv-eek], antidote, lit. “poison-cure”

Iarradh orm níos mó a scríobh faoi chlásail choibhneasta [KHLAWS-il KHIV-nas-tuh].  Seo beagán eolais fúthu—ar ndóigh is féidir i bhfad níos mó a scríobh ar an ábhar.  I was asked to write more about relative clauses.  Here’s the tip of the iceberg—and this is just for starters. 

 

Tá dhá chineál acu ann, díreach agus neamhdhíreach [NYOW-YEER-ukh], agus sin an rud is tábhachtaí fúthu, sílim.  There are two types, direct and indirect, and I think that’s the most important thing about them.   

 

Rud eile tábhachtach—níl aon fhocal i nGaeilge atá go díreach cosúil le “who,” “whom,” ná “whose” mar a tá siad i mBéarla.  Cad atá ag an Ghaeilge ina n-ionad?  An focal “a”!  Another important thing—there’s no word in Irish that’s exactly like English “who,” “whom,” or “whose.”  What does Irish have instead?  The word “a” [pronounced “uh”]!

 

Please keep in mind that all the examples below are the relative “who,” not the interrogative “who,” i.e. for describing the subject further, not for asking who he/she is. 

 

Mar shampla den chlásal coibhneasta díreach, agus is “seanchapall oibre” de shampla iad seo:

 

“Who” in a “direct” relative clause, modifying the subject of the main (first clause): 

 

1. Sin é an fear atá tinn (That’s the man who is ill).  Where’s the “a” that all the fuss is about?  It’s prefixed to the verb “,” giving us “atá.”  Since the “a” is unstressed, the second syllable is the stressed part of this word, which sounds like “uh-TAW”).  Generally speaking, it’s only in present tense statements that the word “a” is actually attached to its verb.

 

Present tense?  Positive only?  Hopefully it’s not “an iomarca gramadaí” (too much grammar) but it’s hard to really be precise about this topic without some of the terminology. 

 

Here’s an example that’s san aimsir chaite (in the past tense).  Notice that the word “a” has now separated from its verb:

 

2. Sin é an fear a bhí tinn (That’s the man who was ill). 

 

And for good measure, and because the third time’s a charm (hopefully making all this grammar appealing), here’s an aimsir fháistineach (the future tense):

 

3. Sin é a fear a bheidh tinn (That’s the man who will be sick).  Of course, I shudder to think of who would actually have use for such a statement. 

 

In the future tense example, there’s a new thing to notice that either didn’t pertain or wasn’t so noticeable in the first two examples (present and past tenses)—tormáil drumaí–lenition (séimhiú). 

 

The future tense verb “beidh” [bay] changed to “bheidh” [vay] because of the word “a” (who).

 

In theory, that should have happened in the present tense too, but it doesn’t in the standard form of the modern language.  We simply still have the regular “t” of “.”  (A Mhuimhnigh, tá a fhios agam, tá bhur bhfoirm féin agaibh ach sin ábhar do bhlag eile, b’fhéidir).    

 

The example in the past tense is already lenited, so it doesn’t really attract our attention.  Bhí” for the past tense is consistently lenited, no matter what comes in front of it. 

 

So it’s only when we get to the future tense that we really notice the lenition.  But if we had a series of regular verbs, we’d see the lenition more obviously.  Mar shampla, using the verb “goid” (steal):

 

Sin é an fear a ghoideann mart breá ramhar (gach lá nó go minic, srl.).

Sin é an fear a ghoid mart breá ramhar (aréir, inné, srl.).

Sin é an fear a ghoidfidh mart breá ramhar (amárach, srl.).  

 

Again, someone’s doing some prognosticating here, about who’s going to steal a fine fat “mart,” which is a fattened cow or bullock ready for slaughter or just slaughtered.  Sorry, a veigeáin agus a veigeatóirí, but the concept of the “mart” is a) an important part of a culture that at one time depended heavily on cattle-raising (and raiding, ach sin scéal eile) and b) the idea is loosely borrowed from a traditional folk rhyme, so it might resonate with some readers.   Anyway, an aimsir fháistineach is all about what will happen.  Fáistine” means “a prophecy.”

 

And what happens to the myriad Irish verbs that happen to start with “l,” “n,” or “r,” or any other non-lenitables.  There’s no spelling change at the beginning of the words, just like there’s no “h” inserted at the beginning of phrases like “mo leabhar,” “mo nóta,” or “mo rothar.”  Just a few samples:

Léann an bhean an leabhar.  Sin í an bhean a léann an leabhar.

Léigh an bhean an leabhar.  Sin í an bhean a léigh an leabhar.

Léifidh an bhean an leabhar.  Sin í an bhean a léifidh an leabhar. 

 

So, that’s “blag a haon” ar an ábhar seo, and we’ve gotten as far as “a” for “who” for positive statements.  Stay tuned for “a” as “whom” and “a” as “whose.”  And for negatives (the man who isn’t, who won’t, who didn’t, etc.).  In fact, we’ll probably be on this topic for a good few blaganna, now that the request is in and the bosca Phandóra is oscailte!  Someday we’ll also treat the phrase “an té” (the one who) but for now, it’s best just to stick to “who” as such. 

Recently we discussed various usages of the word “Lochlannach,” which can be translated in various ways, including “Scandinavian” and “Norse.”  It’s used for Norway Spruce (sprús Lochlannach) and for Swedish goosefoot (blonagán Lochlannach).  I promised at least one more example, tastily potable, if it can be found to exist!  That was before the géarchéim happened in Haiti.  Today, there was an iarchrith, so I may return to the subject, but for now, back to “an bheoir Lochlannach.”  So how would we know if it tastes good if it might not exist?  Lean ort ag léamh!  Read on!

 

First the legend, in brief, then the term.  Between about 1000 and 2000 years ago, depending on whether your version of the legend concerns Vikings/Danes or Picts, the recipe for “beoir Lochlannach” was well-known to a certain tribe.  However that tribe was defeated and almost entirely killed in battle.  The last marthanóir who knew the recipe refused to yield it up, leading to his death and the loss of the oideas (recipe).  For those of you who know the story, I’m deliberately leaving out the emotional tension of the story, to avoid spoilers. 

 

By the time the legend as we know it had evolved, this “beoir” had acquired mythical stature, as fantastic as the fountain of eternal youth or ambróise Oilimpeach.   It may well have continued to be produced in remote areas, but it didn’t evolve into a commercial product.  If you haven’t read the legend before, there are many versions online and in print, including Robert Louis Stevenson’s. 

 

Now, to the téarmaí.  There are at least two names in Irish for this beverage: beoir Lochlannach and leann fraoigh.  The latter is literally “ale of fraoch, heather.  In English, this beverage is generally referred to as “heather-ale,” not a “beoir” and not using any ethnic reference in its name.  Beoir” normally means “beer,” though we’ll have reason to question that here, as you’ll see. 

 

I imagine all you grúdairí baile and *símeoirí out there might have something to say about using “beoir” for “ale,” which is normally “leann.”  I can only say that I didn’t invent the term, and that the second phrase, “leann fraoigh,” does use the word for “ale.” 

 

But there’s an interesting twist to this story. You can read more about the possible derivation of the use of the word “beoir” in this context at http://zythophile.wordpress.com/2008/07/23/heather-ale-scots-or-irish/. The author proposes that “beoir Lochlannach” isn’t really beer OR ale as we know it, but rather a sweet mead, which would be “meá” in Irish.  If you need to clarify it as being sweet, you could say “meá mhilis,” but I’ve never heard of a mead that wasn’t sweet, so that might be iomarcach (redundant). 

 

And of course, if the beoir/leann/meá (beer/ale/mead) is really Pictish, then we shouldn’t be using “Lochlannach” at all, but rather “Piochtach” or “Cruithneach.”  But scéal na bPiochtaí, nó scéal na gCruithneach, sin scéal eile.  Ábhar blag eile.

 

For the final assessment, we’re almost at the 25th anniversary of the commercial revival of heather ale.  You can check it out further and, if you’re in An Ríocht Aontaithe (UK, mainland only, the site says) order some at http://www.williamsbrosbrew.com/ which also has ales made with feamainn, péine, and caor throim (seaweed, pine, and elderberry).  The website http://www.beermenus.com/beers/fraoch-heather-ale lists pubs in Nua-Eabhrac, Filideilfia, and Siceagó that stock Fraoch Heather Ale. 

 

*Zymurgists.  Sadly, I can’t find any actual existing Irish term for zymurgy or its partner term, zymology.   But, to boldly coin a term where no one has coined before (fad m’eolais), we could have something like “símeoiracht” for the art or process of fermenting, based on “miotalóireacht,”  the art or process of metallurgy.  And we could have “símeolaíocht” for “zymology,” based on “miotaleolaíocht,” metallurgy as a field of study.  A parallel coinage would be “síomáis,” based on “zymase,” the enzyme which is the root of all these terms.  All these, and the word “enzyme” itself seem to be based on the Greek “zumē” (leaven).  But I’ll leave that to the blagálaithe Gréigise. 

 

Nótaí: géarchéim [gyayr-hyaym] crisis; iar-, post-; iarchrith [EE-ur-HRIH, silent c and t] aftershock; fraoch [freekh or frookh, depending on dialect] heather; fraoigh [free] of heather; grúdairí baile, home-brewers; fad m’eolais [fahd MOHL-ish] AFAIK.

 

Do watch out for the word “meá” since it has dhá chomhainm (two homonyms): “meá” (a scale, measure, or weight) and “meá” (fishing-ground).  All are pronounced the same, with the initial “m” like “mute” or “muse.”    

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