This paper has a narrow purpose: to show how the Germanic futhark came into being. The intent is to explain the development of the older futhark from its source, the Roman script — or more precisely, to show how individual runes of the futhark derive from individual letters of the Roman alphabet. I shall argue that the orthographic transformations that brought the futhark into existence are largely guided by certain governing principles that systematically effect language change in both spoken and written systems.
There is evidence for the so-called displacement verb second in the language of the runic inscriptions, which most previous scholarship has failed to recognize. This evidence consists of clauses in which the finite verb immediately precedes a subject pronoun (or a subject agreement marker). There is, however, variation with respect to the position of the verb, as it does not appear in second position in all cases. Contrary to common assumptions, however, there are only two reasonably clear examples of verb last order. The finite verb also occurs in absolute initial position in the clause, providing an example of verb first. Moreover, it can be argued that in the early runic language both object–verb and verb–object orders occur in the verb phrase. Furthermore, while determiners either precede or follow the head noun in the noun phrase, the adnominal genitive usually precedes it. On the other hand, only prepositions are attested in the runic corpus, no postpositions. These results shed light on the development of word order at the earliest stage of Germanic.
Runologists from Sophus Bugge (1866–67) to, most recently, Edith Marold (2010) have claimed that there was a Gothic (East Germanic) linguistic element amongst the older futhark inscriptions of Scandinavia. In the present paper, this claim is viewed against a horizon of nineteenth-century Danish and Swedish nationalism, where “Goths” and “Gothic” became politically sensitive terms in view of the purported emigration of the Goths from a homeland in Scandinavia. This is followed by a discussion of the linguistic assumptions underlying the classification of some of the early Scandinavian inscriptions as Gothic, assumptions which (with Peterson 1998) are all rejected — including Marold’s recent insistence on the final -a of the Etelhem clasp form wrta ’created’ being a Gothic 3 pt. sg. ind. ending, cf. Gothic waúrhta ‘worked’. It is argued that this -a is as likely to reflect an Old High German (or even West Germanic) suffix, cf. OHG frumita ‘(he) furthered’.
This article attempts to contribute to a better understanding of the metrics of the early Germanic period through the study of runic inscriptions in the older futhark. Based on the principle that an established metrical structure must exist for the classification of an inscription as verse, seventeen inscriptions from the period between A.D. 200 and 700 previously identified as verse are analysed. The analytical tool employed is the scheme of metrical types established by Eduard Sievers in 1893. Three of the inscriptions could not be classified as verse, and for a few others the classification may be considered uncertain due to various metrical irregularities. Metrical inscriptions can consist of a single Germanic long-line or of stanzas consisting of two or more long-lines (the later fornyrðislag) as well as those combining long-lines with hypermetrical lines with three stresses, stanzaic forms that can be regarded as forerunners of the Old Norse ljóðaháttr. Some inscriptions combine verse with prose sections.
This article presents an overview of non-lexical inscriptions in the South Germanic runic corpus. Illustrative objects exhibiting signs or groups of signs with predominantly ornamental, symbolic or imitative function, as well as cross-shaped runic monograms and futhark inscriptions, are analysed and presented. Based on a typology of these inscriptions, it is shown that for largely illiterate societies the role that script plays must be assessed with great caution and not simply compared to the role of script in contemporary literate societies. The results of the analysis in many cases imply that the medium itself takes precedence over the actual message and the meaning is conveyed by the combination of medium and script in an integrated visual manner.
The Anglo-Saxon rune-name sigel has been interpreted as meaning ‘sun’. In some contexts Old English sigel does refer to the sun, in others it means ‘clasp’, ‘brooch’, or ‘jewel’. All these meanings, however, are difficult to reconcile with the maritime imagery of the Anglo-Saxon Rune Poem’s sigel stanza. I suggest that the poet has exploited Christian metaphor based on an interpretation of the Hebrew letter-name zaith as zayith ‘olive’, and that the imagery of the sigel stanza refers to the olive branch brought to Noah on his Ark, as well as the oil of chrismation, which was also referred to as the Seal of the Holy Spirit (Latin sigillum). The Nordic Rune Poems would appear to have taken their cue from their Anglo-Saxon counterpart and associated the seal with Emperor Constantine’s vision of the cross in the sun’s halo and the decree that this sign be emblazoned on his army’s shields.
In this paper runestones are compared to early Christian grave monuments, the so-called Eskilstuna cists, in an area of Västergötland extending from Husaby to Sparlösa. In order to compare the carving techniques, runestones and grave monuments were analysed by 3D scanning and groove analysis employing a method developed at the Archaeological Research Laboratory at Stockholm University. The hypothesis is that carving technique as a part of material culture reflects the mobility patterns of rune carvers, their contacts and the relationship between individuals and groups. Results indicate that the carving of runestones was relatively uniform over the whole area investigated, whereas the technique of those who carved grave monuments clearly differs between the main sites Husaby, Häggesled and Kållands-Råda. This may suggest that runestone carvers had contacts with one another, while the carvers of the grave monuments kept to their own local site with a lesser degree of interaction among themselves. In a wider context, this change in mobility patterns may be a part of the general restructuring of eleventh century society resulting from Christianization.
In Västmanlands runinskrifter (1964) two runestones are registered at the hamlet Grällsta in Kila parish in Västmanland (Vs 27 and Vs 28). The first one is still preserved, while the latter — a fragment — is now lost but was recorded in earlier sources. In 1983 Jan Paul Strid discovered some deeply cut lines near the top of the preserved runestone that fitted with the rune-band on the early drawings of the lost fragment. He therefore suggested that the fragment must originally have constituted the top of the preserved stone, just as it is depicted in Bautil. His observation is obviously correct, and as shown in this article, there are in addition remains of a few runes from the text of the small fragment near the top of the stone. The runic remnants facilitate the reconstruction of the last word of the inscription, which is most probably the comparative rȳmRi ‘broader’, referring to improvements made to the bridge mentioned in the inscription.
This article suggests that the sequence of runes uku on U 169 Björkeby should not be interpreted as an adjective ungu ‘young’, heading the phrase ungu møy sīna ‘their young daughter’, but as a name, followed by the appositive phrase møy sīna ‘their daughter’, which would be more in line with the normal way to present a person that is to be commemorated in a runic inscription. There are also strong linguistic arguments, outlined in detail, not to take uku as an adjective. First, the word order of a phrase such as ungu møy sīna, adjective–noun–possessive, is atypical for the Viking Age language. Further, ungu must be construed as a so-called weak inflectional form of the adjective, but a weakly inflected adjective is highly improbable in the given context. Two possible names are proposed, Unga (from the adjective ungr ‘young’) and Auga/Ǿga (from the noun auga/ǿga ‘eye’)