Jolly Yule
As I have said so many times in the past, I avoid discussing words and phrases whose origin can be found in any dictionary or (even better) online: one click, and all the information is there. But today, I could not resist the temptation. This is the last post of 2024. As usual, at this time of year, we’ll have a break until early January, and this is the time for the Oxford Etymologist not only to thank our readers and correspondents for their interest and loyalty but also to express the hope that 2025 will be (if possible) even happier than 2024. When we meet (“reconvene”) next time, nights will be a bit shorter, the sun a bit higher, and some etymologies (or so I hope) more transparent. And perhaps someone will explain to me why, in the phrase this time of year no article is needed before year. So already in Shakespeare’s immortal Sonnet 73: “That time of year thou mayst in me behold…”
Image by Kelly Sikkema via Unsplash.
And now back to jolly Yule. It is a disconcerting circumstance that both words in that phrase are of unknown origin. Let us begin with Yule. Apparently, all or most of the earliest speakers of Germanic knew this word. I constantly mention fourth-century Gothic in this blog. But it is not only parts of the Gospels that have come down to us in that old (now dead) language. Miraculously, a fragment of the Gothic calendar, from October 23 to November 30, is also extant, and in it, we find the phrase fruma jiuleis and its equivalent in Latin, namely, naubamibair. It may not be immediately obvious that the odd-looking last word is “November.” By contrast, fruma is a well-known Gothic preposition or adverb, meaning “before.” Thus, November precedes Yule. Everybody will agree.
Words related to jiuleis have come down to us from Old English and Old Icelandic. The Old Icelandic noun jól is especially well-known because of its common occurrence in the texts. The festival lasted twelve days. (Think of Epiphany and Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night.) The noun was a neuter plural, and it is still that in Modern Icelandic, where it means “Christmas” (one reads on Christmas cards: “Gleðileg Jól”). Icelandic is full of such neuter forms that never existed in the singular. The Old English cognate of jól was also neuter. The word’s story seems to have begun with the plural. For comparison: the Russian word svyatki “Yule” exists, likewise, only in the plural. Its Old Russian singular form must have been a secondary formation.
To repeat, the origin of the word Yule has not been discovered. The reason may be that no one knows what to look for. When the etymology of a word like yell or yelp is discussed, the clue immediately suggests itself. Sound-imitative? Perhaps. But what was gēol ~ jól? We only know that in Old English the forms gehhol ~ geohhol also occurred and that the word was borrowed into Finnish as juhla “festival; holiday.” But geohhol, which must have developed from jehwla or jegwla, is fully opaque. Since Yule is an ancient pagan festival, it cannot be synonymous with epiphany, but may allude to the movement of the sun, light, winter, spring, among others.
Predictably, the words that have been suggested as possible cognates of Yule follow that line of thought. Among them, we find a few for “sacrifice,” “(religious) festival,” and “joy.” One candidate is joke, from Latin iocus, but the origin of iocus is far from clear. The common reference to a verb of speaking as the etymon of joke looks unconvincing because words for “joke” usually come from a lower register and imply vulgar fun, entertainment, and the like (“speak” is too colorless for this situation). Thus, joke looks like a poor choice. Besides, let us repeat: a word of unknown origin cannot throw light on a similarly obscure word.
The other suggestions are seldom more promising. Among the candidates for the sought-for etymon, we find words referring to “darkness” (that is, the end of darkness?); “witchcraft” (because pagan rituals were associated with supernatural forces?); “shaft, pole” (with reference to turning, that is, to the turn of the season); “wheel” (this suggestion again reminds us of turning, but it has to overcome a few almost insurmountable phonetic difficulties); “game, amusement” (another fine idea, but Greek epsía “entertainment,” cited in this connection, is again a word of unknown origin and can provide no help in our search). One of the hypotheses listed above may be correct, but proof is wanting. Therefore, most dictionaries remain noncommittal (“origin unknown/uncertain”). A noticeable exception is the great and authoritative dictionary of Indo-European etymology by Julius Pokorny. It refers Yule to the verb of speaking (see above). Some sources repeat this suggestion, but despite Pokorny’s fame, it should be taken with a grain of salt.
Image by Townsend Walton via Unsplash.
And where does English jolly come from, and why is it part of our story? This word was borrowed into Middle English from French (today, the French form is joli; originally, it was jolif). Therefore, we are interested only in the etymology of that French adjective. Friedrich Christian Diez, one of the founders of Romance historical linguistics, derived the adjective from Old Icelandic jól (that’s why jolly is mentioned in this post!), and his etymology can be found in many dictionaries, both Romance and English. It aroused a mixture of amazement and anger in Henry Sweet because he failed to understand how Scandinavian j (that is, the first sound we hear in English Yule) became English j. Of course, one can imagine that jolly was influenced by words like joy, but this is a risky hypothesis. The phrase Merry Christmas postdates the appearance of jolly in English by many centuries. A Christmas Carol by Dickens was published in 1843, and strange as it may seem to us, the extravagant celebration of Christmas in the English-speaking world goes back to the unparalleled popularity of that tale, though of course, even earlier, no one believed that Christmas is “humbug,” as Scrooge put it.
William W. Skeat, our great etymologist, shared Diez’s derivation of jolly. By contrast, Ernest Weekley did not. He wrote in his dictionary: “The Old French and Middle English meanings are very wide, and intensive senses, e. g. jolly good hiding, jolly well mistaken, can be paralleled In Modern French.” He also devoted a short piece to the word in a letter to Notes and Queries. Modern dictionaries usually mention the derivation of jolly from Scandinavian but predictably, with some hedging. This seems to be a proper attitude. Good etymology is based on good phonetics (see also above).
Image by Mathieu MD via Wikimedia Commons. CC BY-SA 3.0.
What a way to finish a year of blogging, what a miserable gift: two words of unknown origin! But look at it from a different point of view: it is better to be busy than bored, and here we have another twelvemonth and so much interesting work to do. Among other things, we are called upon to discover the TRUE origin of Yule and jolly! To follow this call will be a perfect New Year’s resolution. And to be sure, our present ignorance cannot spoil our enjoyment of the inimitable julkage ~ Yule log ~ Yule cake. Jolly St. Nick says: “Bon appétit!” I join him.
Featured image by Michael Rivera via Wikimedia Commons. CC BY-SA 4.0.