{"id":7919,"date":"2025-09-01T21:49:01","date_gmt":"2025-09-01T21:49:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/?page_id=7919"},"modified":"2025-09-01T22:40:25","modified_gmt":"2025-09-01T22:40:25","slug":"on-basque-astronymy-by-mg-ramos","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/on-basque-astronymy-by-mg-ramos\/","title":{"rendered":"On Basque Astronymy by MG Ramos"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

This work was originally published by M.G. Ramos in 1928 under the title De<\/em> Astronom\u00e1stica Vasca<\/em>. I was lucky to find this text in the University of Washington library. This translation, by Blas Uberuaga, appeared on Buber’s Basque Page many years ago<\/a>, back in 1995. I’m sure there are many errors in translation – my Spanish isn’t great and there are many things that are hard for me to translate in the limited context of the original text. I find this subject fascinating as it gives hints into the early beliefs of the Basques. I’m sure that much has changed in our understanding since Ramos first published this, but I hope it is still interesting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Preface<\/h2>\n\n\n
\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

For a long time, we have had the intention of publishing a study about Astronomastica Basque<\/em>\u00a0[1]. Painful mishaps forced us to suspend our work when we had collected abundant material. After various years, those notes have given rise to the present book and to a paper that, in abstract form, we just presented to the\u00a017th International Congress of Orientalistas<\/strong>, in Oxford, with the title\u00a0El sol y la luna en vascuence y en las lenguas indogermanicas<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We do not have the pretension of having exhausted the material, even having limited our study to the names of the two principle celestial bodies. Neither are we blind to the difficulty in formulating a theory that, more than being new, clashes with established prejudices. We treat a material that, unfortunately, cannot leave the realm of hypothesis and conjecture and, as such, nearly all that has been said until now must be considered, without ruling out any of our own opinions. We have endeavored to ensure that the ideas of others are reflected with the most fealty possible, and with frequency we have reproduced them literally, transcribing them in their original language when the translation would have been worth little or damaging to the form.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All of the works cited in the Bibliography have served and helped us greatly, but we should especially mention the Diccionario Vasco-Espanol-Frances<\/em> of Azkue; the treaties of Basque phonetics of Uhlenbeck and Gavel; the folkloric material collected by Barandiaran; the Diccionario Sanscrito-Ingles<\/em> of Monier-Williams; the Mitologia vedica<\/em> of Macdonell, and the linguistic studies of Max M\u00fcller, Schuchardt and others. All of these are equally deserving of the admiration and gratitude of those interested in Basque studies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tarragona, September of 1928.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[1] Much has been written about the names of the celestial bodies, but, as far as we know, this is the first time that the term Astronomastica has been employed, hoping that it is accepted without difficulty. Formed in likeness with Toponomastica, it is composed of astro-, from the Greek astr\u00f3n, and onom\u00e1stica, which also comes from the Greek \u00f3noma ‘name.’ In Greek, onomastik\u00f3n was the title of a work whose object was to fix the meaning and the use of nouns. Therefore, we can define Astronomastica as “doctrine about the names of the stars.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Basques and the Sun<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

1. If the study of the names of the heavenly bodies in other languages is interesting, in Basque it is of an extraordinary importance. Not only must we attend to the linguistic problem, but we are also taken to other fields, especially those of folklore and comparative mythology.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Arana Goiri, founder of the nationalist school, proposed for\u00a0*eusko<\/em>\u00a0(assumed name of the Basque), as a probable etymology,\u00a0*eguzkoa<\/em>,\u00a0*euskoa<\/em>, “of the sun, of the east,” a theory that was defended later by P. Arriandiaga and was the subject of a large polemic [2].<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It is self explanatory that this topic awakened such interest among the Basques because of the relationship that could exist between the name of the sun,\u00a0eguzki<\/em>; that of the Basque language,\u00a0euskara<\/em>; and of the Basques themselves,\u00a0euskaldunak<\/em>. If we admit this relationship, we must concur with Arana-Goiri that the prehistoric Basques worshipped the sun. Chaho sustained that the Basques made up a people of seers, children of the sun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

2. The ethnographic problem of the Basques, the origin of this race, millenary like their language, appears full of mystery. We will not tire our readers with the exposition of the different hypotheses that historians, geographers, linguists, and anthropologists have upheld. In the International Congress of Geography that met in London in 1895, there was one who, gathering opinions of various authors, presented the primitive Basque mountains as inhabited by Iberians, Aryans, Semites, Fins, Celts and nothing less that the habitants of Africa, America and Oceana (Urroz). Today, Mr. Edmonston-Scott sees in the Basques a people originating from India, a hypothesis that recalls not only that of Philipon, but also that held in Spain by Fernandez-Guerra and P. Fita, for whom the cradle of the Cantabrians is the region of Asia irrigated by the river Cantabras\u00a0[3]\u00a0(Costa). Chaho alludes to the Basques of Hindustan. On the other hand, the anonymous author of\u00a0Essai sur la Noblesse des Basque<\/em>\u00a0believed in a migration of the Basques to India. (Humboldt).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For it’s part, Basque has been connected with Celtic, American languages, Turkish, Caucasian languages, Japanese, Slavic, Egyptian, and Berber. (Aranzadi). In addition, affinities have been encountered with Sanskrit, caldeo, Etruscan, kolariana languages, etc.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[2] Strictly speaking, before Arana-Goiri the possible relation between the name of the sun and the Basques was known. We copy from a book about this published in 1873: “And with effect: he does not stop supporting this opinion the same basquefile prince L. L. Bonaparte when he takes note of the Basque language in the towns that populate the mentioned foothills of the Ural mountains, thus decomposing the word euskaldunac, appearing in the eusk the race of eguski, of the sun; an etymology that seems to indicate that they proceeded from the place from which appears the luminous star, and a conjecture that validates even more the name of the river that covers such grand words in our patria, conserving the record of this Iberian race.” (Rodr\u00edguez-Ferrer).<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

[3] This Cantabras was mentioned by Plinio (Humboldt). In reality, the Sanskrit name was Chandrabhaga, and its Greek form Sandrophagos could be interpreted as “Devourer of Alexander” since that Prince decided to change its name. It returned to being called, as in Vedic, Asikni, from the Greek form Acesines. The modern name is Chenab (Rapson).<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Names of the Sun<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

3. Guillermo de Humboldt, referring to the Bizkaians, that is, to the Basques, said that this people make use of, in general, complex signs for ideas that the other languages express with simple signs, such as moon, sun, etc.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But, do we know exactly the etymology of the names of the sun in the Indo-Germanic languages? Comparing the English\u00a0sun<\/em>\u00a0with the Icelandic\u00a0sol<\/em>, the Sanskrit\u00a0sura<\/em>,\u00a0surya<\/em>, the Vedic\u00a0s\u00favar<\/em>, etc., is not equivalent to giving the etymology. Sun is, as an etymologic dictionary says (Chambers), “an old word of unknown etymology.” As to the complexity, the Basque\u00a0\u00a0eki<\/em>\u00a0‘sun’ does not appear much more complex than, e.g., the Latin\u00a0sol<\/em>. If it is argued that\u00a0eki<\/em>\u00a0is probably the result of a contraction, we have the same in the case of Latin and Icelandic. (Walde, Pictet).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What do the names of the sun mean? To discover their primitive meaning and the semantic evolution, we must reach to the Vedic\u00a0s\u00favar<\/em>,\u00a0sv\u00e0r<\/em>\u00a0‘sun, light, sky.’ In the other languages of the large Indo- European family the names of the sun usually are legacy signs that don’t define the expressed object\u00a0[4].<\/p>\n\n\n\n

4. What are the names of the sun in Basque? There does not exist, far from it, the variety of Sanskrit, but on the other hand the phonetic variants abound. There are two groups that can be formed:\u00a0\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0\u00a0eki<\/em>. Variants of the first are:\u00a0euzki<\/em>,\u00a0eguski<\/em>,\u00a0eguzku<\/em>,\u00a0iguzki<\/em>,\u00a0iuzki<\/em>,\u00a0iruzki<\/em>,\u00a0iruski<\/em>,\u00a0iluzki<\/em>,\u00a0iluski<\/em>,\u00a0iduzki<\/em>, and\u00a0eguzgi<\/em>. All of these forms are distributed throughout the various Basque dialects of Spain and France [5]. Dechepare employs the form\u00a0ydusqui(a)<\/em>\u00a0next to\u00a0iguzqui(a)<\/em>.\u00a0\u00a0Eguzquia<\/em>\u00a0is one of the Basque words cited by Lucius Marineus Siculus. (Vinson). The group\u00a0eki<\/em>\u00a0is also composed of\u00a0ekhi<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0iki<\/em>. In the Lapurdian of Bardos the sun is also called\u00a0ekheerri<\/em>. The form\u00a0ekherri<\/em>, which is encountered in Duvoisin, properly means ‘heat of the sun.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As much as from the phonetic point of view as the etymological, the priority probably corresponds to eguzki<\/em>. Gavel, even recognizing that at first glance this form seems the more primitive, admits equally the possibility that the\u00a0g<\/em>\u00a0comes from\u00a0r<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0d<\/em>, and that the change would have happened under the influence of a false analogy with\u00a0\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0‘day.’ Uhlenbeck asks if we must leave behind\u00a0r<\/em>\u00a0or else\u00a0g<\/em>. And he adds: “For the moment it cannot be determined what relation remains between the diverse forms.” But studying the Basque vowels, he cites as a probable alternate case\u00a0e<\/em>:\u00a0i<\/em>,\u00a0eguzki: iguzki<\/em>,\u00a0iruzki<\/em>. Later, when treating the alternation of\u00a0i<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0e<\/em>, he says: “Dans la plupart des cas la priorit\u00e9 semble appartenir \u00e0 l’\u00a0e<\/em>, mais \u00e0 cet \u00e9gard il nous reste beaucoup de doutes. Parfois l’\u00e9tymologie nous donne la certitude souhait\u00e9e, p. ex…\u00a0eguzki: iguzki<\/em>\u00a0‘soleil’, mot duquel le synonyme\u00a0eki<\/em>\u00a0peut \u00e0 peine \u00eatre s\u00e9par\u00e9.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The forms euzki<\/em>, iuzki<\/em> are explained perfectly by the relaxation of articulation since the consonants b<\/em>, g<\/em>, d<\/em>, r<\/em> are subject in Basque. This is the reason that they permute between themselves with such frequency and that they are confused in rapid and relaxed pronunciation, leading in many cases to complete suppression. (Gavel). Something similar occurs in Spanish with the fricative g<\/em> in intervocalic positions ( agua<\/em>, aguardar<\/em>) and the d<\/em> of participles terminating in -ado<\/em>, which in familiar conversation is greatly reduced or lost. (Navarro Tomas).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In regards to the group eki<\/em>, there exists a rare unanimity in considering their form as the result of a contraction. Even Novia de Salcedo is inclined to believe that it is the same eguzki<\/em>, syncopated. Vinson also has it originating from eguzki<\/em>, while Schuchardt presents us with the hypothetical form *egu-ki<\/em>, from which eku<\/em> derives. Apriaz says that it could also proceed from *egu-gi<\/em>, *egu-ki<\/em>, tomando a egu<\/em> in its primitive sense; ekhi<\/em> would be before eguzki<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

5. The priority between\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0eki<\/em>\u00a0could be discussed. But it also could be that none of them was the primitive name of the son. As Schuchardt said: “in the course of time many Basque words have been lost, for which reason its current vocabulary does not lend a sufficient cooperation.” Lacombe, in the conclusion of his study of the names of ‘tree,’ says that it is not possible to establish conclusions over the Basque mentality in ancient times, because Basque is only known from a very recent epic and has lost a great number of words. For his part, Eleizalde recognizes that in Basque “the lexicon does not correspond to the importance of the conjugation, since it is natural that during the decline of a language the most accidental part, which is the lexicon, is lost the most.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[4] Profesor Whitney said: “The words for ‘sun’ have nearly the same history, generally designating it as the ‘brilliant or shining one,’ or as ‘the enlivener, quickener, generator.’ There are hardly two other objects within the ordinary range of human observation more essentially unique than the sun and the moon, and their titles were, as nearly as is possible in language, proper names.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The following words are from Pictet: “Il r\u00e9sulte de ce qui pr\u00e9c\u00e8de que les anciens Aryas on rattach\u00e9 leurs principaux noms du soleil \u00e0 deux racines dont l’une signifie briller et l’autre produire. Le groupe qui se relie \u00e0 cette derni\u00e8re est de beaucoup le plus \u00e9tendu, et comprend des termes dont les suffixes de d\u00e9rivation variaient sans doute d\u00e9j\u00e0 au temps de l’unit\u00e9. Il y avait cependant d’autres noms pour d\u00e9signer l’astre du jour, dont la synonimie a pris chez les Indiens un si riche d\u00e9veloppement.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Max M\u00fcller calculated the number of names for the sun that figure in the Sanskrit dictionaries as thirty seven and he added: “The sun might be called the bright, the warm, the golden, the preserver, the destroyer, the wolf, the lion, the heavenly eye, the father of light and life.” For his part, Sayce said: “So the sun was compared to a charioteer or a one-eyed monster.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The number reported by Max M\u00fcller is fairly modest. A complete study of the names of the sun in Sanskrit would be very curious. Not being able to extend ourselves on this point, we limit ourselves to enumerating some of the epiteths and metaphors which have been given to the star of the day, all of which we have taken from the dictionary of Monier-Williams: “Bird, Bull, Eagle, Bright one, Sight ruler, Bright eye, Day-jewel, Day-king, Day-leader, Day-lord, Day-maker, Day-nourished, Lord of heaven, Sky-banner, Sky-illuminator, Sky-jewel, Sky-meteor, Sky-ornament, Star-jewel, Sun planet, Having divine rays, destroyer of R\u00e2hn, etc.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

[5] As the linguistic atlas of the Basque Country is near completion, we have desisted in noting the dialects and sub-dialects to which each of these forms pertain. We have done the same in various other parts of the book, avoiding when possible initials and abbreviations. For the same reasons of clarity and since the bibliography is at the end, we have limited ourselves to citing the authors.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eguzki and Egun<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

6. We now study the etymology of\u00a0eguzki<\/em>. All agree that it is a question of a compound word. Its first element is\u00a0egu-<\/em>, which we will study later. P. Arriandiaga disagrees on this point, decomposing\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0into\u00a0eguz-<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0egutz-gi<\/em>. The second element is\u00a0-zki<\/em>, according to Uhlenbeck, and\u00a0-azki<\/em>, according to Apraiz, who deduces it from\u00a0ilazki: ilargi<\/em>, ‘moon.’ In his opinion, it is a question of a doublet or bimorph, and\u00a0\u00a0azki<\/em>\u00a0is equivalent to\u00a0argi<\/em>\u00a0‘artificial or secondary light.’ He establishes later ingeniously the parallelism\u00a0ilazki : ilargi<\/em>\u00a0::\u00a0\u00a0eguzki : *egurgi<\/em>. He explains the disappearance of this last form by collision with a derivative of\u00a0egur<\/em>\u00a0‘firewood.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ki<\/em>,\u00a0-gi<\/em>, is a restrictive determinative particle (Vinson); a suffix that indicates: fragment or subject (Apraiz); a material object, fragment, species, class (Azkue); matter, thing (Astarloa); or reunion, aggregation (Chaho).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Schuchardt has\u00a0eguzki<\/em>,\u00a0iguzki<\/em>\u00a0derive from\u00a0egu-<\/em>, but he finds it difficult to explain the second element and compares it to that of\u00a0izarski<\/em>, which in the Bajo-Navarran dialect means ‘clear weather with starry sky.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For L. Mendizabal, the second element is\u00a0izki<\/em>, which, in turn, is decomposed into\u00a0iz-ki<\/em>\u00a0and means ‘light, thing that illuminates.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

7. If from the morphologic study we go to the semantic, we will find a great variety of interpretations. For some\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0means ‘maker of the day’ (Larramendi). For others, it means ‘light of the day’ (L. Mendizabal); ‘solar, diurnal light’ (Schuchardt); ‘diurnal light’ (Barandiaran); ‘luminary of the day’ (Apraiz); ‘thing of the day’ (Astarloa); ‘matter of light’ (P. Arriandiaga); or ‘luminous’ (Campion).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

8.\u00a0\u00a0Egun<\/em>\u00a0‘day’ has as variants\u00a0eun<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0ein<\/em>. More interesting than the phonetic alterations is the semantic evolution of\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0egu<\/em>. This last form is conserved isolated in the Bajo-Navarran of Aezkoa with the meaning of ‘today.’\u00a0\u00a0Egu(n)<\/em>\u00a0intervenes in the formation of numerous derivatives, with the double meaning of chronological time (day’s journey) and weather (temperature, readiness) (Apraiz). The final\u00a0n<\/em>\u00a0disappears in forms like\u00a0eguantz<\/em>\u00a0‘dawn,’ as opposed to the Bizkaian\u00a0egunantz<\/em>\u00a0which conserves it. As Vinson says: “le\u00a0n<\/em>\u00a0final est souvent adventice en Basque.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\u00a0e<\/em>\u00a0of\u00a0egun<\/em>, which to Astarloa signifies ‘soft, sweet, delicious, consolant,’ to Uhlenbeck is probably a prefix. F. Amador de los Rios relates\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0with the Turk\u00a0gun<\/em>\u00a0‘day,’ a form that “Basque conserves with the articulative\u00a0e<\/em>\u00a0placed in front.” The Academy of the Basque Language opines that\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0is composed of\u00a0egu-un<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

P. Larramendi saw in\u00a0egun(a)<\/em>\u00a0a composition of\u00a0eguzki-lan(a)<\/em>\u00a0‘work and effect of the sun.’ Chaho also sustains that from the name of the sun,\u00a0\u00a0eguzki<\/em>,\u00a0ekhi<\/em>, the day was called\u00a0eguna<\/em>, that is to say, period of beneficent clarity. Bonaparte has it derive from\u00a0ek<\/em>, radical of\u00a0eki<\/em> ‘sun’:\u00a0ekidun<\/em>,\u00a0ekiun<\/em>,\u00a0egidun<\/em>,\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0‘that has sun.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

9. What is the primitive meaning of\u00a0egu(n)<\/em>? Vinson attributes to it that of ‘light,’ and, more concretely, ‘natural light.’ So that in its origin it wasn’t ‘day, space of twenty four hours,’ but day in the sense of the French phrase\u00a0il fait jour<\/em>. Analogously, we can say with respect to the German\u00a0Tag<\/em>\u00a0‘day,’ that its etymological meaning is that of ‘Zeit des Brennes der Sonne’ (Kluge), ‘hot weather’ (Meringer). In English, as Skeat says, ‘day is the hot, bright time.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Vinson, some years later, basing himself on\u00a0ilen<\/em>\u00a0‘Monday’ and\u00a0eguen<\/em>\u00a0‘Thursday,’ affirms that\u00a0egu-<\/em>\u00a0is not properly ‘day, in opposition to night,’ but rather ‘sun,’ in which case\u00a0eguen<\/em>\u00a0means ‘solar.’ Schuchardt also admitted for\u00a0egu-<\/em>\u00a0the double meaning of ‘sun’ and ‘day.’ From\u00a0egu-<\/em>\u00a0proceed\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0‘sun’ and\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0‘day, today.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

10. There exists a very interesting word which, until now, has passed unnoticed. We are referring to\u00a0guar<\/em>\u00a0which in the Basque of San Sebastian means ‘ray of sun.’ It appears derived from\u00a0egu-<\/em>, and in such case it would be confirmed for it the primitive sense of ‘sun.’ The elision of the\u00a0e<\/em>\u00a0of\u00a0*eguar<\/em>\u00a0could be a case of phonetic alteration, very frequent in Basque, e.g.\u00a0phaile<\/em>\u00a0‘reaper,’ variant of\u00a0ephaile<\/em>, and the surname\u00a0Chavarri<\/em>, from\u00a0Echavarri<\/em>. We take these examples from Gavel, who makes note that, at times, the suppression of the initial vowel gives as a result the returning of certain words to a more primitive state.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the case of\u00a0-ar<\/em>, we believe it is an ancient suffix. This is exactly one of the affixes not studied by Azkue in his\u00a0Morfologia Vasca<\/em>. It is present, in general, in adjectives such as\u00a0azkar<\/em>\u00a0‘vigorous,’\u00a0baldar<\/em>\u00a0‘lazy,’ etc.\u00a0\u00a0Ilar<\/em>\u00a0is ‘funeral bell,’ according to Azkue, but L. Mendizabal decomposes it into\u00a0il-ar<\/em>\u00a0= ‘of death’ (bell, mourning, funeral, etc.). If we ignore the scope of the suffix\u00a0-ar<\/em>\u00a0as adjective, it becomes harder yet for us to explain its intervention in\u00a0\u00a0*eguar<\/em>\u00a0‘ray of sun,’\u00a0izar<\/em>\u00a0‘star,’\u00a0ondar<\/em>\u00a0‘arena,’\u00a0istar<\/em>\u00a0‘thigh,’ etc.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

11. We have, then, as very probable, that primitively\u00a0egu-<\/em>\u00a0meant ‘sun, (natural) light, and day’ [6]. In the languages of inflection there exists the semantic process in virtue of which two distinct forms of the same word end up differentiating themselves as much in use as in meaning. So, in Latin there is\u00a0tepor<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0tempus<\/em>, whose primitive meaning is `heat’. (Sayce)\u00a0[7].<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In Magiar, the same term\u00a0nap<\/em>\u00a0means ‘sun’ and ‘day.’ However, when there is the danger of confusion, ‘day’ is expressed by\u00a0nappal<\/em>. (Belfadel). In Turkish,\u00a0g\u00fcn<\/em>\u00a0is ‘day’ and\u00a0g\u00fcnes<\/em>\u00a0‘sun’. (Bonelli).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Basque makes indiscriminate use of the nominal composition, phonetic alterations\u00a0[8], and suffixation to differentiate and concretize the meaning of words. From\u00a0egu-<\/em>, the sun was called\u00a0eguzki<\/em>; the ray of sun\u00a0*eguar<\/em>; the day,\u00a0egun<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the other hand, it is not strange that\u00a0egu<\/em>\u00a0primitively meant sun, light and day, at the same time. Today, the Spanish term\u00a0sol<\/em>\u00a0has these three meanings, as can be seen in any dictionary.\u00a0\u00a0Sol<\/em>\u00a0is not only the celestial body of the day, but it also means ‘light, heat or influx of this star.’ In addition, it is equivalent to ‘day,’ with which we take the cause as effect. When we say\u00a0tomar el sol<\/em>, we make use of an expression analogous to that of in English,\u00a0to walk out of the sun<\/em>,\u00a0to bask in the sun<\/em>, etc. In these phrases sunlight<\/em>\u00a0is substituted by\u00a0sun<\/em>. (Whitney). We remember that, in the same Basque,\u00a0euzkie<\/em>\u00a0refers in Ataun to the solar or diurnal light. (Barandiaran).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another of the derivatives of\u00a0egu(n)<\/em>\u00a0‘day’ is\u00a0eguraldi<\/em>\u00a0‘weather, atmospheric state,’ a word now used by Dechepare. For Vinson,\u00a0eguraldi<\/em> is derived from\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0‘sun,’ and means exactly ‘return of the sun, that is, the reappearance of the sun after bad weather.’ But the most probable is that the semantic process has been the following:\u00a0\u00a0Egu(n)<\/em>\u00a0‘day’ (hot, bright time; Zeit des Brennes der Sonne) and\u00a0aldi<\/em>\u00a0(in its origins ‘weather;’ later, suffix), formed the compound\u00a0eguraldi<\/em>, literally ‘weather during the day,’ which later came to be physical weather in general. We still have the term in Roncales\u00a0gaialdi<\/em>, which means ‘weather during the night’.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This semantic process can be compared with that of Sanskrit\u00a0tapas<\/em>\u00a0‘heat’ and Latin\u00a0tempus<\/em>, with the difference that in Basque\u00a0eguraldi<\/em> didn’t obtain the meaning of ‘metaphysical time’\u00a0[9].<\/p>\n\n\n\n

12. The relationship that\u00a0egu-<\/em>\u00a0could have with\u00a0ego<\/em>\u00a0‘south or noon’ is also very interesting, as observed by Aranzadi and Apraiz; and with\u00a0egur<\/em>\u00a0‘firewood,’ given the affinity of ideas between light and fire (Apraiz), although Charencey pretended to relate\u00a0egur<\/em>\u00a0with the romantic forms of the Latin\u00a0curtus<\/em>\u00a0[10]. Apraiz also relates with\u00a0egu(n)<\/em>\u00a0the origin of other terms like\u00a0\u00a0ekaitz<\/em>\u00a0‘storm’ and\u00a0ekhain<\/em>\u00a0‘June.’ According to this author,\u00a0ekain<\/em>\u00a0probably proceeds from\u00a0egu-gain<\/em>, that is to say, ‘the month of the high, of the supreme day.’ Instead, for Vinson\u00a0ekain(a)<\/em>\u00a0is a corruption of\u00a0\u00a0ekhail(a)<\/em>\u00a0and means ‘the month of the sun.’ Chaho said: “the month of June receives in Basque the name of\u00a0Ekhain<\/em>,\u00a0Ekhigain<\/em>, that is, ‘solar exaltation.'”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[6] Max M\u00fcller said: “So many suns are so many days and even in English yestersun was used instead of yesterday as late as the time of Dryden.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

[7] The following words are from Professor Max M\u00fcller: “Because it was felt to be important to distinguish between the bright one, i.e. the sun, and the bright one, i.e. the day, and the bright one, i.e. wealth, therefore the root VAS to be bright, was modified by inflection and broken up into Vi-vas-vat, the sun, vas-ara, day, vas-u, wealth. In a radical and in many an agglutinative language, the mre root VAS would have been considered sufficient to express pro re nat\u00e2, any one of these meanings.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

[8] In the Bizkain of Lekeitio, gaba is the night and gaua the cerrazon. In Castillian, we have pr\u00f3ximo and pr\u00f3jimo (Azkue).<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

[9] Br\u00e9al says: “Le temps c’\u00e9tait \u00e0 l’origine ‘la temperature, la chaleur.’ Le mot est de m\u00eame origine que\u00a0lepor. Puis on a d\u00e9sign\u00e9 de cette fa\u00e7on le temps (bon ou mauvais) en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral. Enfin on est arriv\u00e9 \u00e0 l’id\u00e9e abstraite de la dur\u00e9e. Il est rest\u00e9 quelque chose de l’id\u00e9e de la temperature dans la verbe\u00a0temperare.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

[10] For Charencey the initial e of egur is euphonic, like that of egosi, which he attempts to make derive from the Spanish cocer.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

God and Moon in Basque<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

13. If we pass from the names of the sun to those of the moon, we observe a curious parallelism. The primitive name seems to be\u00a0il<\/em>,\u00a0ila<\/em>. Vinson is inclined towards this last form, basing his opinion on the fact that ‘month,’ that is ‘full moon,’ is expressed by\u00a0ilhabete<\/em>. But the dictionary of Azkue also registers the Bizkaian form\u00a0ilbete<\/em>\u00a0‘full moon.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The names of the moon used today form four groups: <\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \n
  1. Ilargi<\/em>, with its variants\u00a0ilargi<\/em>,\u00a0ilhargi<\/em>,\u00a0irargi<\/em> [11],\u00a0iratargi<\/em>,\u00a0iretargi<\/em>,\u00a0idetargi<\/em>. Dechepare and Lizarraga employ the form\u00a0ilhargui<\/em>.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  2. Argizari<\/em>, which has as variants\u00a0argizagi<\/em>, (in Lizarraga\u00a0arguicagui<\/em>) and argizai<\/em>. Larramendi sites the form\u00a0argizaila<\/em>, which we don’t find in the dictionary of Azkue. In regards to\u00a0argizaita<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0argizaite<\/em>, only the first of these forms figures in the cited dictionary, but with the meaning ‘clarity of the moon.’<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  3. The Bajo-Navarran\u00a0ilazki<\/em>,\u00a0ilaski<\/em>.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  4. The Roncales\u00a0goiko<\/em>.<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n\n\n\n

    In the Aryan languages, the moon has been denominated almost always by relation to its function as measurer of time, from here that ‘moon’ and ‘month’ are expressed ordinarily by a common root. (Costa). Another such thing happens in Basque.\u00a0\u00a0Argizari<\/em>\u00a0is composed of\u00a0argi<\/em>\u00a0‘light’ and\u00a0izari<\/em>\u00a0‘measure,’ that is ‘light-measure.’ (Max M\u00fcller). In the Edda, the moon is called\u00a0\u00e2rtali<\/em>\u00a0‘year-teller.’ By exception, in Latin\u00a0luna<\/em>\u00a0(from\u00a0*luc-na<\/em>) means ‘brilliant.’ (Max M\u00fcller).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Ilazki<\/em>\u00a0is the form that corresponds completely to\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0‘sun’ (Vinson). As we have said, Apraiz established the parallel\u00a0ilazki : ilargi<\/em>\u00a0::\u00a0eguzki : *egurki<\/em>, deducing that its second element is\u00a0azki=argi<\/em>\u00a0‘artificial or secondary light.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    14. Much has been discussed about the Roncales\u00a0goiko(a)<\/em>\u00a0and over the supposed worship by the Basques of the god Moon. In Basque, God has the name\u00a0Jaungoikoa<\/em>,\u00a0Jainkoa<\/em>, although the primitive name was\u00a0Urtci<\/em>, a word that appears in the so-called Codice of Calixto II: “Deum vocant urtci,” affirms the Norman pilgrim Aymeric Picaud, bearer of the Codice, in one of the chapters with which he augments it, relating the impressions of his trip to Santiago de Compostela. (Urroz).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Urtci<\/em>\u00a0would have properly meant ‘God of the thunder’ or ‘God of the sky,’ because even in our days the form\u00a0ortzi<\/em>\u00a0means ‘thunder; thundering cloud; heavens, sky; clarity of the sky.’ The Roncales\u00a0orzargi<\/em>\u00a0is equivalent to ‘light of the sky;’ the Bajo- Navarran\u00a0orzgorri<\/em>\u00a0is translated by ‘reddish sky.’\u00a0[12]<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The modern name of heaven in Basque is zeru<\/em>, from the Latin *c\u00e6 lu<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    15. If the Basques of the XII century still called God\u00a0Urtci<\/em>, the Slavs at some time also worshipped only one god, creator of the lightning. Perkunas, in Lithuanian, is the god of the thunderstorm, and is used as a synonym for\u00a0deivatis<\/em>\u00a0‘deity.’ The same meaning is attributed by Castren to the Finn term\u00a0Jumala<\/em>, which means ‘thunderous.’ (Max M\u00fcller). From the identity of the mythologic traits of the gods of the thunder of the various branches of the Indo-European family, it is inferred that a god of the thunder existed in the Indo-European epic, in spite of there being no common name. (Macdonell).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Van Eys noted the affinity that connects the Thursday of the Basque week,\u00a0 ostegun<\/em>\u00a0‘day of the explosion,’ with that of the Scandanavian and Teutonic, consecrated to the god Thor. Thor, son of the Earth, was the God of the thunder, who hit with his hammer the heads of the maleficent giants that occupied the cloud of the storm, causing to fly from his fierce blows the thunderbolt, in roaring explosion. (Urroz).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In the opinion of Urroz,\u00a0orzegun<\/em>,\u00a0ostegun<\/em>\u00a0‘Thursday,’ mean literally ‘day of the sky.’\u00a0\u00a0Ortzi<\/em>\u00a0also enters in the composition of\u00a0ortzirale<\/em>,\u00a0ostirale<\/em>\u00a0‘Friday.’ Among the names of the rainbow figures that of\u00a0\u00a0orzadar<\/em>\u00a0‘arc of the cloud,’ according to P. Fita; ‘horn or arc of heaven,’ according to Azkue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    16. Prince Bonaparte believed to have heard in Roncal that they called the moon\u00a0goikoa<\/em>\u00a0‘that of above’. (Arana Goiri). Since then, the lexicographers, including Van Eys, when explaining the term\u00a0Jaungoikoa<\/em>\u00a0‘God,’ decompose it as\u00a0Jaun-goi-ko-a<\/em>, literally ‘the lord of the high.’ (Costa). But the discovery of Bonaparte made some think of the possibility that\u00a0Jaungoikoa<\/em>\u00a0might mean ‘lord of the moon.’ For others it signified ‘the lord Moon’ or ‘the lady Moon.’ From there, there have been those who deduced that the word in question is a clear vestige of remote ages in which the moon constituted, the same as between the Accadians of the Caldea, the supreme deity of its mythology. (Costa).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    But Arana Goiri comes saying that the Roncales didn’t refer to the moon as\u00a0goikoa<\/em>\u00a0‘that of above,’ as Prince Bonaparte believed to perceive, but\u00a0\u00a0gaikoa<\/em>\u00a0‘the nocturnal,’ because for ‘night’ they say\u00a0gai<\/em>, in place of the\u00a0gau<\/em>\u00a0of other dialects. However, the dictionary of Azkue registers the term\u00a0goiko<\/em>\u00a0‘moon’ and adds: “It is not\u00a0gaiko<\/em>.\u00a0Goikoak ezdu argitzen<\/em>=’the moon will not give its light'” is the phrase cited by Azkue, who took it from a manuscript from London.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Whatever the Roncal name for the moon was, it doesn’t appear probable that it intervenes in the composition of\u00a0Jaungoikoa<\/em>, the modern name of God, but of relatively modern origin. (Arana Goiri). According to some, this term is due to the Christian sentiment of the Basques, and was formed no earlier than eight or nine centuries ago with Basque roots, although lacking the most elemental rules of syntax. Unamuno said: “The little primitive and spontaneous character of this denomination, the reaching to us such a complete and intact compound, the inclusion in its first component the notion of lord or dueno (\u00a0jau<\/em>,\u00a0jabe<\/em>), which supposes a certain level of culture, make me believe, if the rest of the dates that appear from this study are taken into account, that it is a word of recent introduction, perhaps due to the Christian missions.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    On the contrary, Cejador sustained that the religion of the Lord of the high is very ancient and was not born among the Semites, but was abandoned among the Iberians, that is, the Basques, before the Hebrews knew it by revelation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [11] ‘\u2026 lunam, irargu\u00eda,’ said Lucius Marineus Siculur (Vinson).<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [12] Something very similar has occured in the Indo-European languages – As Sayce said: “All the words which have a spiritual or moral meaning go back to a purely sensuous origin: Divus, Deus, Dieu, was once the bright sky<\/em>.“<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Ila and Ilargi<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    17. We now study\u00a0ilargi<\/em>\u00a0‘moon,’ that, with its variants, forms the group of greatest extension.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Its composition is perfectly clear:\u00a0\u00a0il-argi<\/em>, or perhaps\u00a0ila-argi<\/em>.\u00a0\u00a0Il<\/em>,\u00a0\u00a0ila<\/em>, we have already said seems to be the primitive name of the moon, although today it doesn’t have an independent life, used only in derivatives, e.g.,\u00a0ilgora<\/em>\u00a0‘first quarter,’ literally ‘moon above’ (Azkue). According to Chaho, in the Basque calendar, except for two months whose names are taken from the sun, all of the rest receive their denomination or qualifier from the moon,\u00a0illa<\/em>, with the designation of the agricultural works or other circumstances that refer to the life of the fields.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    We have also said that the name of Monday, ilen<\/em>, parallel form of\u00a0\u00a0eguen<\/em>\u00a0‘Thursday,’ can be derived from\u00a0il<\/em>\u00a0‘moon,’ in which case it would mean ‘lunar,’ in correspondence with the English\u00a0Monday<\/em>\u00a0and the Latin\u00a0dies lun\u00e6<\/em>. (Bonaparte, Vinson).\u00a0\u00a0Ilen<\/em>\u00a0is properly the genitive form of\u00a0\u00a0il<\/em>\u00a0‘moon,’ equal to the Anglo-Saxon case\u00a0monan<\/em>\u00a0in\u00a0monan d\u00e6g<\/em>\u00a0‘Monday.’ (Skeat).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    For Mahn,\u00a0ila<\/em>,\u00a0illa<\/em>\u00a0‘(the) month’ is an abbreviation of\u00a0illargia<\/em>\u00a0‘(the) moon.’ According to Astarloa,\u00a0ilargia<\/em>\u00a0is a term composed of\u00a0ilun<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0\u00a0iluna<\/em> ‘darkness’ and\u00a0argui<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0arguija<\/em>\u00a0‘light.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    18. From the semantic point of view, the interpretations of\u00a0ilargi<\/em>\u00a0are as diverse as those of\u00a0eguzki<\/em>. According to Vinson, it properly means ‘clair de lune.’ Schuchardt translates it by\u00a0Mondlicht<\/em>,\u00a0Mondschein<\/em>. Other interpretations are: ‘light of each month’ (Larramendi), ‘light of the darkness’ (Astarloa), ‘sleeping or dead light’ (Chaho), ‘dead light or light of the dead’ (Mahn), ‘dead light’ (Vinson), ‘light of death’ (Van Eys), ‘light of the dead’ (Uhlenbeck). In Basque\u00a0il<\/em>,\u00a0\u00a0hil<\/em>, mean ‘dead, to die, to kill, to extinguish, etc.’ In Sanskrit\u00a0n\u00e1kta<\/em>,\u00a0n\u00e1kti<\/em>,\u00a0n\u00e1ktan<\/em> ‘night’ come, according to Pictet, from the root\u00a0na\u00e7<\/em>, ‘to die, to perish’, which he hasn’t been able to verify.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The theory of Mahn that\u00a0illa<\/em>\u00a0is the same as\u00a0illargia<\/em>, but abbreviated, takes him to maintain that the its primitive meaning was that of ‘moon’ and that later it came to mean ‘month,’ as it seems to be verified in the word\u00a0illabetea<\/em>\u00a0‘full moon, month’ as opposed to illargibetea<\/em>\u00a0‘full moon;’ and from there he deduces that the Iberians began the months with the full moon, while other peoples, for example the Hebrews, began them with the new moon, as is seen in the name for ‘month’\u00a0chod\u00e4sch<\/em>, which comes from\u00a0ch\u00e2dash<\/em>\u00a0‘to be new.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    If\u00a0ila<\/em>\u00a0hasn’t arrived through its semantic evolution to mean ‘today’ is is due to having encountered the name of the night,\u00a0gau<\/em>, from which is derived\u00a0gaur<\/em>\u00a0‘today’ (=’this night’ according to Uhlenbeck; ‘of night’ according to Vinson); if it isn’t a question of semantic phonetics, they very well may have been the same word,\u00a0gau<\/em>\u00a0proceeding from\u00a0*gaur<\/em>, with soft\u00a0r<\/em>, analogous to that of some names of the numbers, which have lost it.\u00a0\u00a0Irur<\/em>,\u00a0hirur<\/em>\u00a0‘three’ continues to conserve the\u00a0r<\/em>\u00a0in various dialects, in contrast to the form\u00a0iru<\/em>\u00a0of others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    19. It isn’t strange that ‘today’ and ‘night’ in Basque would be the same word or have a very close relation. Among the Gauls, time was counted not by days but by nights. The custom of dividing time in moons brought the consequence of saying night to time. The English word\u00a0sennight<\/em>, contraction of\u00a0seven night<\/em>, means ‘week.’ Also in English, the quincena<\/em> is called\u00a0fortnight<\/em>, in Middle English\u00a0fourtenight<\/em>,\u00a0fourten night<\/em>\u00a0= ‘fourteen nights.’ In ancient French\u00a0anuict<\/em>\u00a0(hac nocte<\/em>) was said for\u00a0aujord’hui<\/em>\u00a0(\u00a0hodie<\/em>). (Skeat, Fr. E. De Echalar).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    According to Pictet, the Aryans had lunar months, and since the phases of the moon couldn’t be observed well except at night, it was natural that they counted time by nights, in place of doing so by days. This custom was conserved between various peoples of the same race. In Rigveda,\u00a0ks\u00e1p<\/em>, kshapa<\/em>\u00a0not only meant ‘night,’ but ‘day,’ (measure of time of twenty four hours). Also, in Sanskrit there exists the term\u00a0\u00a0da\u00e7aratr\u00e1<\/em>, which properly means ‘ten nights,’ but which is applied to a period of ten days.\u00a0[+]<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    20. It has been desired to relate the Basque\u00a0il(a)<\/em>,\u00a0hil(a)<\/em>\u00a0with the Caucasian and Camitic languages. Among the former there are the Georgian forms\u00a0kvla<\/em>,\u00a0klva<\/em>, and the mingreliana\u00a0qvilua<\/em>, which mean ‘to kill.’ Uhlenbeck believes that the Basque\u00a0il<\/em>\u00a0maybe comes from\u00a0*kil<\/em>. In effect, the phonetic history of Basque allows one to think this way. But we don’t see as probable the relationship with the Caucasian forms. Neither does it appear prudent to us to relate\u00a0il<\/em>,\u00a0*kil<\/em>\u00a0with the English\u00a0to kill<\/em>,\u00a0to quell<\/em>; the Albanians\u00a0yll-i<\/em>\u00a0‘star, heavenly body,’ the Sanskrit\u00a0il<\/em>, which means, among other things, ‘to sleep,’ and its derivative\u00a0\u00a0ilayati<\/em>, which is equivalent to ‘to be still.’ It is known that the primitive meaning of the Latin\u00a0sepelio<\/em>\u00a0was probably ‘to sleep,’ as it turns out from various texts of Plato and Virgil, cited by Breal. The Spanish\u00a0cementerio<\/em>, from the Greek\u00a0koimeterion<\/em>, has in this last language the meaning of ‘dormitory.’ (R. Barcia). On the other hand, with reference to the Sanskrit\u00a0ilayati<\/em>, it should be noted that in Basque\u00a0il<\/em>,\u00a0\u00a0hil<\/em>, as adjectives, also mean ‘still, tranquil’, and so they say\u00a0ur hila<\/em>\u00a0‘still water.’ Chaho, in his legend of Aitor says : “Those tombs are his best bed,\u00a0obia<\/em>; that dream his best dream, the dream of the repose,\u00a0ilona<\/em>; his death was the great dream,\u00a0iltza<\/em>.”\u00a0\u00a0Illa<\/em>, according to the same author, expresses in Basque “the immobility, the tightening and death.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Others compared the Basque\u00a0il(a)<\/em>,\u00a0ill(a)<\/em>=’moon, month,’ with the Greek\u00a0helios<\/em>\u00a0‘sun.’ Fr. E. de Echalar understands that\u00a0ille<\/em>=’month’ must mean in Basque ‘light.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Schuchardt, comparing the vocabulary of Basque with that of the Camitic languages, encounters in one of the Berber dialects the form\u00a0t-alli-t<\/em>\u00a0‘month, new moon.’ For his part, Costa supposed that in the Iberian language ‘month’ must have been said as\u00a0ail<\/em>, judging by by the Basque\u00a0il<\/em>,\u00a0\u00a0illa<\/em>\u00a0and by Berber, whose Kabil, Targui and Ghadamesi dialects place likewise the word tallit<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0thallith<\/em>\u00a0(tema\u00a0al<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0alli<\/em>).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    21. With respect to\u00a0argi<\/em>, for Vinson it meant ‘reflected, secondary, artificial light.’ According to Gavel, the primitive meaning of\u00a0argi<\/em>\u00a0was that of luminous, and from there the meanings of ‘brilliant’ and ‘clear’ are derived. On becoming a noun, it came to mean ‘light,’ literally ‘that which is luminous.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Argi<\/em>\u00a0can be related with an old Indo-European root, ARG, whose primitive meaning must have been that of ‘to shine,’ but which later served to express the ideas of brilliance and whiteness. Thus, we have the Sanskrit\u00a0arjuna<\/em>\u00a0‘white,’ the Greek\u00a0arg\u00f3s<\/em>\u00a0‘white’ and the names of silver: Greek\u00a0argyros<\/em>, Latin\u00a0argentum<\/em>, Spanish\u00a0argento<\/em>. Also compare the Spanish\u00a0arcilla<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    New Interpretations of Eguzki<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    22. Given this exposition of the diverse theories and interpretations, we will give as summary that in Basque, in spite of the relative transparency of the compound names, the origin and primitive meaning of the names of the ‘sun’ and the ‘moon’ have not been able to be settled in a definite manner. It is only known that, as probable, that\u00a0egu<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0\u00a0ila<\/em>\u00a0could have been, in ancient times, the names of the celestial bodies in question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    We have already said that\u00a0egu<\/em>\u00a0means at the same time ‘sun, (solar) light, day and today.’\u00a0\u00a0Il(a)<\/em>\u00a0is equivalent to ‘moon, month.’ It is also possible that it meant ‘night, obscurity.’ In modern times,\u00a0ilun<\/em>,\u00a0ilhun<\/em>\u00a0serve to name the night in the Upper- and Lower-Navarran dialects. Lopez Mendizabal interprets\u00a0ilazki<\/em>\u00a0‘moon’ (with palatalized\u00a0l<\/em>) as composed of\u00a0ila-iz-ki<\/em>, literally ‘light of the night,’ that is to say, ‘moon.’ As can be seen, there exists a certain parallel in the semantic evolution of\u00a0egu<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0il(a)<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Of the modern names for the sun, the most interesting and of a most primitive aspect are\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0(or\u00a0eguski<\/em>) and\u00a0eki<\/em>. And of the names of the moon,\u00a0argizari<\/em>,\u00a0ilargi<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0ilazki<\/em>\u00a0(or\u00a0ilaski<\/em>).\u00a0\u00a0Ilazki<\/em>\u00a0is the parallel form to\u00a0eguzki<\/em>. According to the most general opinion,\u00a0eki<\/em>\u00a0is a contraction of\u00a0eguzki<\/em>.\u00a0\u00a0Argizari<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0ilargi<\/em>\u00a0do not offer doubts in regards to their composition. Thus, the key must be in\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0ilazki<\/em>. The interpretations that have been made from the beginning are more of a logical character, thus as Astarloa said, “our first fathers regularly gave it (the sun) the name\u00a0thing of the day<\/em>,\u00a0\u00a0star of the day<\/em>, or\u00a0light of the day<\/em>\u00a0or some other thing synonymous with this meaning.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    23. Regarding the second element of\u00a0eguzki<\/em>, that is\u00a0-zki<\/em>, it is not evident to us that it means ‘light, star, thing, etc.’ In order to suppose this,\u00a0eguzki<\/em> must be decomposed as\u00a0eguz-ki<\/em>,\u00a0egu-(a)zki<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0egu-(i)zki<\/em>. The existence of\u00a0ilazki<\/em>\u00a0in correspondence with\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0makes it very probable that the\u00a0z<\/em>\u00a0forms part of the first element. And referring to\u00a0egu-(a)zki<\/em>,\u00a0egu-(i)zki<\/em>, we ask: Do the suffered alterations agree with the principles of Basque phonetics? It is not very easy to show the transition from\u00a0eguazki<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0eguizki<\/em>\u00a0to\u00a0eguzki<\/em>.\u00a0\u00a0Egu-aski<\/em>\u00a0has been able to give, perfectly,\u00a0eguazki<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0egubazki<\/em>. Examples:\u00a0\u00a0eguantz<\/em>\u00a0‘dawn,’\u00a0eguargi<\/em>\u00a0‘clear day,’\u00a0eguasten<\/em>\u00a0‘Wednesday,’ which has as variants\u00a0egubazten<\/em>, a form cited by Vinson but not by Azkue. In regards to\u00a0\u00a0egu-(i)zki<\/em>, we only come across it in a manual dictionary, whose author must not be very sure of this etymology when in another place of the same dictionary he decomposes\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0as\u00a0egutz- gi<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    With the possibility that\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0comes from\u00a0egutz-gi<\/em>,\u00a0egu-azki<\/em>, or\u00a0\u00a0egu-iz-ki<\/em>, we are left with the possibility that it decomposes into\u00a0\u00a0egu-zki<\/em>, or better yet into\u00a0egu-uzki<\/em>.\u00a0\u00a0Zki<\/em>\u00a0by itself does not mean anything nor can it be a Basque word. But it could be an ancient double suffix, composed of\u00a0-z<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0-ki<\/em>, which brings us nearer to the hypothesis of Schuchardt and we must compare\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0with\u00a0izarski<\/em>. This suffix –\u00a0\u00a0-ski<\/em>,\u00a0-zki<\/em>\u00a0– would be analogous to\u00a0-zko<\/em>, whose functions can be the following: 1) material cause, 2) manner, mode, 3) medium, 4) multitude. (Azkue).\u00a0\u00a0-Zko<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0-zka<\/em>\u00a0are also diminutive suffixes, but they seem to be alterations of\u00a0-sko<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0-ska<\/em>. (Azkue).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    24. Finally, the solution\u00a0egu-uzki<\/em>\u00a0remains. Many find it inadmissible, pointing out the meaning of the second element, in Latin\u00a0nates<\/em>, clunes<\/em>. But, can linguistics have prejudices? Have we fallen into the errors of the French preciosity of the 17th century?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    One of the various meanings of\u00a0uzki<\/em>\u00a0is that of ‘eye of a needle,’ but there is no lack of dictionaries that translate it as ‘eyelet of the needle,’ when it is known that needles do not have eyelets, but eyes. This will give us the key to the instinctive repugnance of the Basque writers. Any dictionary of the Spanish language, beginning with that of the Royal Academy, when treating the term ojo<\/em>, will indicate, between its various meanings that of ‘hole that has the needle so that the thread enters.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    25. The etymologies proposed for\u00a0begi<\/em>\u00a0‘eye’ are various and there has not been a lack of those who pretend to relate it with Hebrew or with the Caucus languages. We must not enter in its analysis and comparison with other languages. But it occurs to us that\u00a0uzki<\/em>\u00a0seems to have the second element in common with\u00a0begi<\/em>, which is the same\u00a0-ki<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0\u00a0-gi<\/em>\u00a0already studied before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    It is curious to observe that in the Roncales of Ustarroz the name of the sun is eguzku<\/em>, this final form coinciding with that of the Roncales variant of uzki<\/em>, which is uzku<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    26. In order to comprehend well the confusion of ideas that carried\u00a0uzki<\/em>\u00a0to its degradation, it is convenient to have in mind that\u00a0uzki<\/em> ‘nates, clunes,’ is encountered tightly linked with terms such as\u00a0uzkar<\/em>\u00a0‘ventosidad,’ which in turn is a phonetic alteration of\u00a0puzkar<\/em>;\u00a0buztan<\/em>\u00a0‘cola, rabo, tail’;\u00a0putz<\/em>,\u00a0butz<\/em>\u00a0`blowing, ventosidad.’ So that it is most probable that\u00a0uzki<\/em>, in the sense of ‘nates, clunes,’ comes from\u00a0*puzki<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In losing the\u00a0p<\/em>\u00a0of\u00a0*puzki<\/em>, the homophone is produced and from there follows the collision with\u00a0uzki<\/em>\u00a0‘eye,’ a term that seems to have a very diverse origin, perhaps from\u00a0*kuski<\/em>,\u00a0*kuzki<\/em>, in whose case the nucleus or radical element of\u00a0ikusi<\/em>\u00a0‘to see’ reappears, which is decomposed as\u00a0i-kus-i<\/em>. This would also explain why in some phonetic variants of\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0ilazki<\/em>\u00a0there is the interchange between the\u00a0s<\/em> and\u00a0\u00a0z<\/em>, which is very frequent in Basque.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Even Novia de Salcedo, when studying the etymology of uzkerr(a)<\/em>, admits that it is aferesis of puzkerr(a)<\/em>. One of the laws of Basque phonetics consists in that the explosive surds in the initial position are made voiced and with respect to the labials, in the current state of the language no indigenous term can begin with the letter p<\/em>, because these initial p<\/em> have become b<\/em>. (Gavel). And the initial b<\/em> is lost preferably in front of u<\/em>, for the great affinity that exists between the two. (Uhlenbeck, Gavel).  *Puzki<\/em> has been able to become uzki<\/em>, whether by mediation of an aspired sound or, by that which is most probable, through a form *buzki<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    27. The words related to the idea of ‘to blow’ in almost all languages are onomatopoeic and generally begin with a labial. Thus, we have, as equivalents of ‘to blow’: English\u00a0puff<\/em>; French\u00a0bouffer<\/em>; Norwegian\u00a0\u00a0blaase<\/em>,\u00a0puste<\/em>,\u00a0pruste<\/em>; dialectal Norwegian\u00a0puffe<\/em>\u00a0(Falk); Lithuanian\u00a0pusti<\/em>; Spanish and Catalan\u00a0bufar<\/em>. In Sanskrit,\u00a0phut-kara<\/em>\u00a0means the action of blowing, whistling. (Meillet). Monier-Williams confirms that\u00a0phut<\/em>,\u00a0phute<\/em>\u00a0is an onomatopoeic word and observes that that it is only used with\u00a0kri<\/em>\u00a0‘to do’ and its derivatives. Thus,\u00a0phut-kri<\/em>\u00a0means to blow, literally ‘to do blowing.’ Compare the Basque\u00a0putz-egin<\/em>\u00a0‘to blow,’ which also properly means ‘to do blowing.’ The variants of\u00a0putz<\/em> ‘blowing’ are\u00a0butz<\/em>,\u00a0b\u00fctz<\/em>,\u00a0h\u00fctz<\/em>,\u00a0utz<\/em>, and can serve as an example for the phonetic study of the initial\u00a0p<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Ilazki<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    28.\u00a0\u00a0Ilazki<\/em>\u00a0‘moon,’ which as we have already said corresponds to\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0‘sun,’ seems to us to be a composition of\u00a0ila-uzki<\/em>. The reduction of the diphthong\u00a0au<\/em>\u00a0is a current thing as much in Basque as in the Indo-European languages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Au<\/em> contracts in o<\/em>, in a<\/em> and in u<\/em>. As an example of the first, we have in Bizkaian the verbal forms dot<\/em> of daut<\/em>, nozu<\/em> of nauzu<\/em>. Uhlenbeck very prudently says that this contraction is limited to the cases in which the diphthong is followed by a consonant, and as a result there are verbal forms which conserve it, such as dau<\/em>, dabe<\/em> (from *daue<\/em>), nau<\/em>, nabe<\/em> ( *naue<\/em>).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Au<\/em>\u00a0reduces to\u00a0u<\/em>\u00a0in very rare cases, e.g. the suletine\u00a0urthiki<\/em>, from\u00a0aurthiki<\/em>\u00a0‘arrojar.’ As Uhlenbeck says, together with\u00a0basaurde<\/em>\u00a0‘wild boar’ we also have in Gipuzkoan\u00a0basurde<\/em>, which comes from the first, or in another case, is a composition of\u00a0bas<\/em>\u00a0(=\u00a0basa<\/em>) and\u00a0urde<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    On the other hand, the contraction of\u00a0au<\/em>\u00a0to\u00a0a<\/em>\u00a0is frequent in all dialects. (Uhlenbeck, Gavel). There remains in some cases doubt whether the phonetic process is the reverse, by dipthongation sporadic of\u00a0a<\/em>\u00a0to\u00a0au<\/em>\u00a0before\u00a0n<\/em>. This phenomenon is present in the Bizkaian dialect. Uhlenbeck cites, among other various examples,\u00a0aundi<\/em>\u00a0‘large’, from andi<\/em>. On the contrary, Gavel believes that\u00a0andi<\/em>\u00a0comes from\u00a0aundi<\/em>\u00a0and that the accumulation of consonants has served to facilitate the elision of the\u00a0u<\/em>. This could also be the case for\u00a0ilauzki<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Certain\u00a0au<\/em>\u00a0diphthongs have become\u00a0ai<\/em>\u00a0in Suletin, where, for example,\u00a0\u00a0laudatu<\/em>\u00a0(from the Latin\u00a0laudatum<\/em>) has converted to\u00a0laidatu<\/em>. It is also common of in Suletin the reduction\u00a0aun<\/em>\u00a0to\u00a0a\u00f1<\/em>\u00a0by interim of\u00a0ain<\/em>. (Gavel).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The contraction of\u00a0au<\/em>\u00a0to\u00a0a<\/em>\u00a0in all Basque dialects being very frequent, the examples that we could cite are very numerous. Beside\u00a0auspo<\/em> ‘bellows,’\u00a0aulki<\/em>\u00a0‘chair, bench,’\u00a0aurpegi<\/em>\u00a0‘face,’\u00a0jaube<\/em>\u00a0‘owner,’\u00a0Jaungoiko<\/em>\u00a0‘God,’\u00a0aurkitu<\/em>\u00a0‘to find,’\u00a0laurogei<\/em>\u00a0‘eighty,’\u00a0laureun<\/em>\u00a0‘four hundred,’ and the verbal forms\u00a0dauku<\/em>,\u00a0zauku<\/em>, etc., exist as many other forms\u00a0aspo<\/em>,\u00a0\u00a0alki<\/em>,\u00a0arpegi<\/em>, etc.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    29. All of this allows one to suppose that\u00a0ilazki<\/em>\u00a0proceeds from\u00a0\u00a0*ilauzki<\/em>. If one wants to object that\u00a0basaurde<\/em>\u00a0conserves the diphthong or reduces to\u00a0basurde<\/em>, we can answer that ‘forest’ in Euskara, is not\u00a0basa<\/em>\u00a0but\u00a0baso<\/em>. The first of these two forms intervenes in compound words and means ‘wild.’\u00a0\u00a0Baso<\/em>\u00a0also enters in some compounds with identical meaning.\u00a0\u00a0Basauri<\/em>\u00a0‘locality of the forest’ and noun of place, conserves the diphthong. But in\u00a0basurde<\/em>\u00a0we must see more correctly a compound of\u00a0\u00a0baso-urde<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0bas-urde<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Apart from the fact that the reduction of au<\/em> to u<\/em> is very infrequent, in the concrete case of *ilauzki<\/em> we would have had *iluzki<\/em>, and so the name of the moon would be confused with that of the sun, since, as we have seen, iluzki<\/em> is one of the variants of eguzki<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    30. Even more than the phonetic demonstrations, it is important to consider the reasons of semantic order. Our opinion is that\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0is formed once weakened\u00a0egu<\/em>\u00a0‘sun,’ with the end of designating concretely the celestial body of the day. From there,\u00a0uzki<\/em>\u00a0would be the current name of ‘eye.’\u00a0\u00a0Eguzki<\/em>, then, properly means ‘eye (of the) sun, eye of the day,’ in the same way that\u00a0ilazki<\/em>\u00a0means ‘eye (of the) moon, eye of the night.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The Sun and Comparative Semantics<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    31. The hypothesis that in the composition of\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0the element ‘eye’ enters is also based on the observations of comparative Semantics. Without going much further, in the Indo-Germanic languages we will find a curious affinity of ideas between ‘sun’ and ‘eye.’ In Old Irish,\u00a0suil<\/em>\u00a0means ‘eye.’ (Meillet). In Sanskrit we have seen that the sun was compared with a monster with only one eye. In addition, between the epiteths that were given to it are those of ‘brilliant eye’ and ‘celestial eye.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    But the English language has another metaphor even more beautiful and that is the name of the\u00a0daisy<\/em>\u00a0which in Middle English was\u00a0day\u00ebsy\u00eb<\/em>\u00a0and in Anglo-Saxon\u00a0d\u00e6 ges eage<\/em>, literally ‘eye of day, day’s eye,’ that is to say, the sun, which it resembles. (Skeat)\u00a0[13].<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    32. The scientific name of the daisy is\u00a0Bellis perenis<\/em>. In Spanish it is called\u00a0vellorita<\/em>,\u00a0margarita de los prados<\/em>,\u00a0chiribita<\/em>,\u00a0maya<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0pascueta<\/em>. (Lacoizqueta). This author translates it to Basque as\u00a0ostaiska<\/em>. Baraibar, among the Araban words, mentions\u00a0\u00a0chiribita<\/em>=’vellorita or meadow daisy’ and decomposes this term into\u00a0chiri<\/em>\u00a0‘disc, pulley, wheel’ and\u00a0bita<\/em>\u00a0‘little,’ that is ‘little wheel or little pulley.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In Basque the words for daisy and those for butterfly are confused. Among those for butterfly we have\u00a0chiribia<\/em>,\u00a0chiribiri<\/em>,\u00a0chirita<\/em>, etc. The Bizkaia pitxilote<\/em>,\u00a0pitxoleta<\/em>\u00a0mean at the same time ‘daisy’ and ‘butterfly.’ In these same terms it is necessary to look at the origin of\u00a0bichileta<\/em>, with which in the Castillian of Araba designates the spring. (Baraibar).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The sunflower is called\u00a0eguzki-belar<\/em>\u00a0in Basque, literally ‘grass of the sun,’ or simply\u00a0ekhi<\/em>, which, as we have seen, is one of the names of the diurnal star. The P. R. de Bera translates sunflower and tornasol as\u00a0ekilili<\/em>, while Azkue cites the forms\u00a0ekilili<\/em>\u00a0‘calaminta’ and\u00a0ekhilili<\/em> ‘helianthus,’ which literally means ‘flower of the sun.’ Lacoizqueta gives as the name in Basque of the calaminta\u00a0egilili(a)<\/em>, citing as well the form\u00a0egilicha<\/em>\u00a0of the dictionary of Larramendi. He interprets the first element as\u00a0egi(a)<\/em>\u00a0‘hill, knoll,’ but the form\u00a0ekilili<\/em>\u00a0of Azkue causes us to believe that in\u00a0egilili<\/em>,\u00a0egilicha<\/em>\u00a0also enters the name of the sun. In such a case, to the list of the names of said star, we can add\u00a0egi<\/em>, which placed next to\u00a0egu<\/em>\u00a0brings us to a radical element\u00a0eg-<\/em>,\u00a0ek-<\/em>, with\u00a0-i<\/em>,\u00a0-u<\/em>\u00a0being merely suffixes. At the same time, it would confirm the priority of\u00a0egu<\/em>,\u00a0egi<\/em>,\u00a0eki<\/em>,\u00a0ekhi<\/em>\u00a0over\u00a0eguzki<\/em>. Very probably, among the first it is necessary to look for the primitive name of the sun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Bonaparte said: “Understood that\u00a0ek<\/em>\u00a0means sun, because we have\u00a0ekhi<\/em>\u00a0or\u00a0\u00a0eki<\/em>, synonyms of\u00a0eguzki<\/em>.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    33. In Sanskrit,\u00a0\u00e1kshi<\/em>\u00a0means ‘eye.’ Well then, the dual serves to identify the sun and the moon, that is ‘the (two) eyes.’ Also in Sanskrit,\u00a0dr\u00edshti<\/em>\u00a0has, among others, the meanings of ‘eye, pupil; aspect of the stars.’\u00a0\u00a0Nabh\u00e5s-cakshus<\/em>\u00a0‘eye of the sky’ was one of the names of the sun. (Monier-Williams). The Greeks called the stars ‘eyes of the night.’ (Max M\u00fcller).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    34. If we pass from the Indo-European languages to Tagalog of the Philippines, we will see that\u00a0hari<\/em>\u00a0means ‘king, queen’ and is a term of Sanskrit origin. In this last language, among many other meanings, it has that of ‘sun.’ Pardo de Tavera says that maybe the Tagalog kings gave themselves this name, as in other nations they give themselves the name ‘son of the sun\u00a0[14], son of the heavens or of the moon.’ According to this same author, in the Malaya-Polynesian languages, in which\u00a0hari<\/em>\u00a0means the sun, it always appears preceeded by\u00a0mata<\/em>\u00a0‘eye.’ In the purely Polynesian languages,\u00a0ao<\/em>, which means the sun, also appears preceeded by\u00a0mata<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [13] It is worth noting the admiration with which the English authors speak of the daisy, especially Chaucer from whom these beautiful verses are taken:<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    “The daisie, or els the eye of the daie,
    The emprise, and the floure of flouris alle.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    and later:<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    “To seen this floure agenst the sunne sprede
    Whan it riseth early by the morrow
    That blissful sight softeneth all my sorrow.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The following words of Trench are so admirable that we could not resist the temptation of copying them in their original language:<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    “… but take ‘daisy’; surely this charming little English flower which has stirred the peculiar affection of English poets from Chaucer to Wordsworth, and received the tribute of their song, becomes more charming yet, when we know, as Chaucer long ago has told us, that ‘daisy’ is day’s eye, or in its early spelling ‘daieseighe’ the eye of the day; these are his words:<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    That well by reson men hit calle mey
    The “dayesye” or elles the “ye of day.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Chaucer,\u00a0Legend of Good Women, Prol. 184.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    For only consider how much is implied here. To the sun in the heavens this name, eye of day, was naturally first given, and those who transferred the title to our little field flower meant no doubt to liken its inner yellow disk or shield to the great golden orb of the sun, and the white florets which encircle this disk to the rays which the sun spreads on all sides around him. What imagination was there, to suggest a comparison such as this, with the power which is the privilege of that eye, from earth to heaven, and from heaven to earth, and of linking both together.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [14] In India, for example, the clan of the Sisodias, clan of the reigning family of Odeypur, come from the solar race and are supposed to descend from Rama, encarnation of Vishnu, the sun-god (Le Bon).<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In Egypt each Pharoah carried the title of son of the sun, preceding his phonetic name, and the first element from which his prenames were composed were also the sun. In the majority of cases, the phonetic name began with Ra, as in Ramses (Encicl. Espasa).<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Returning to Egun and Eguzki<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    35. We must not forget that\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0presents the physiognomic characteristics belonging to a passive participle. In Basque, these participles fulfill as well the function of the infinitive of other languages.\u00a0\u00a0Izan<\/em>\u00a0means at the same time ‘to be’ and ‘been,’ ‘to have’ and ‘had.’ The same participle can become a noun, and in the specific case of izan we have the Lapurdine\u00a0izan(a)<\/em>\u00a0which means ‘(the) ranch,’ ‘(the) possession,’ that is, ‘that which is had.’ The morphology of\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0is very similar to that of\u00a0egon<\/em>\u00a0‘to be (estar).’ We could decompose\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0into\u00a0e-gu-n<\/em>, in which case the nucleus or radical element would be\u00a0-gu-<\/em>\u00a0and not\u00a0eg-<\/em>,\u00a0ek-<\/em>. We have already said that for Uhlenbeck the\u00a0e<\/em>\u00a0of egu(n) is probably a prefix. The theories of Schuchardt are also favorable to this hypothesis. But we do not believe it necessary to appeal for aid a comparison with the Camitic languages. If\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0contains a verbal nucleus, it cannot be anything but the idea of ‘to shine, to sparkle, to gleem.’ These ideas are translated today as\u00a0dirdiratu<\/em>\u00a0and its phonetic variants. But dirdiratu<\/em>\u00a0more correctly has the meaning of ‘to reflect, to reverberate,’ and is properly an onomatopoeia. Thus, as\u00a0dirdir<\/em>\u00a0is the idea of the reflection, of the reverberation,\u00a0dardar<\/em>\u00a0is that of the tremor, of shaking. In Sanskrit we have\u00a0didi<\/em>,\u00a0didi<\/em>, which means ‘to shine.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    There does not exist, then, a verb in Basque able to express adequately the ideas related to the brilliance of the sun. This does not fail to call attention, since Basque, as we have seen, is not lacking names for the celestial bodies and their functions, for being this one of the things that most intensively excited the imagination of primitive man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Egun<\/em>\u00a0very well may have been the verbal form of\u00a0eg-u<\/em>,\u00a0eg-i<\/em>, which later substantived in\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0‘day.’ In such as case, the\u00a0e<\/em>\u00a0of\u00a0egun<\/em>\u00a0would not be a prenuclear<\/em>\u00a0element, as Azkue called it, but rather an integral part of the nucleus, or the result of the fusion of two\u00a0e<\/em>‘s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    36. Now let us suppose that the initial\u00a0e<\/em>\u00a0of\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0is a prefix, as Uhlenbeck believes.\u00a0\u00a0Eguzki<\/em>\u00a0would then be decomposed as\u00a0e-guzki<\/em>\u00a0and even in this case we would notice the presence of the element\u00a0– guzki<\/em>, from\u00a0\u00a0*kuski<\/em>,\u00a0*kuzki<\/em>\u00a0= ‘eye.’ But if it was a prefix of a verbal character, the relation with\u00a0ikusi<\/em>\u00a0‘to see,’ which probably comes from\u00a0*ekusi<\/em>\u00a0by assimilation, would still be even tighter\u00a0[15]. This\u00a0*ekusi<\/em>, with the suffix\u00a0\u00a0-ki<\/em>, would give us\u00a0*ekuski<\/em>, a possible predecessor of\u00a0eguski<\/em>,\u00a0eguzki<\/em>. We could relate\u00a0*ekuski<\/em>\u00a0with the word\u00a0ekariu<\/em>, which appears on an Iberian inscription and which is believed to mean ‘the two eyes.’ (Vinson)\u00a0[16]. So that by this new hypothesis,\u00a0eguzki<\/em> would properly and exclusively mean ‘eye,’ which reminds us of the case of the Old Irish\u00a0suil<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [15] Ekusi is not only a hypothetical form, but also real. In the Bizaian of Orozco, in Gipuzkoan and in Roncales it is still used as a variant of ikusi, and it has the derivatives ekusgarri, ekuskete, ekuslari, ekusmen, etc.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Ikuski is one of the names of the devanadera in Basque. It must be a contraction of ikuruski. Other variants are ikurizki, ikoroski, and ikolaski.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [16] As only a side note we say that the name that the gypsies give to the eye is aqu\u00ed. As dui aqu\u00edas ya chich\u00ed = ‘the two eyes of the face.’ This is not strange if one takes into account that the caste of the gypsies is native of Indostan and that the Romanian or Cal\u00f3 conserve certain affinities with the Aryan languages of that peninsula. The gypsy aqu\u00ed looks quite similar to the Lithuanian akis, Latin oculus, diminutive of *ocus, and Sanskrit \u00e1kshi, which mean the same.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The Sun in Mythology<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    37. One poetic metaphor\u00a0[17], in which the sun is like an open eye in the immensity of the sky, has given place to various myths, as much in India\u00a0[18]\u00a0as in other regions of antiquity. Sayce has said that mythology is based in a large part on the metaphors of language.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Vedic mythology offers us curious examples of the affinity of ideas between sun and eye during the time of the primitive Aryans. And not only in the Vedas, but also in the Avesta, where\u00a0hvare<\/em>\u00a0(related to the Vedic\u00a0svar<\/em>) calls the sun the eye of Ahura Mazda. (Macdonell). As far as Egypt, one of the festivals in honor of the sun is celebrated in the thirtieth day of the\u00a0epiphi<\/em>, under the name of “birthday of the eyes of Horus.” (Encicl. Espasa)\u00a0[19].<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    But, it is especially in the Vedas where we can encounter very abundant material. We take, for example, the origin of the universe. One of the hymns of the Rigveda tells that the gods celebrated a sacrifice with the body of a giant named Purusha, and from his only eye formed the sun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The idea of this myth is very primitive and agrees with the traditions of other regions. (Macdonell). Thus, we have that in Japan the most interesting version about the origin of the universe is that the sun and the moon were created from the eyes of the progenitor, in the same moment at which he washed himself with an object to purify himself from the stains that he had contracted in his visit to the underworld after the death of his consort. (Amesaki, cited in the Encicl. Espasa).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    38. In Vedic mythology the sun is the ‘eye of the gods,’ above all of Surya, Mitra, Varuna\u00a0[20]\u00a0and Agni. In the Atharva Veda it is called ‘the king of the eyes.’ In the Vedic hymns, it also receives the epiteth ‘eye of the world.’ Its gaze penetrates all it reaches. Before the sun, the stars, like thieves, disappear in the shadows of the night. The sun is guardian of all beings, animate or inanimate. It observes the good and evil actions of men.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    As much as Indra as Agni and Varuna, all were gods endowed of a thousand eyes. According to the\u00a0Ramayana<\/em>, the peacock owes the eyes of his feathers to the first. (Roussel, Shovona Devi).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The material is very extensive. We could fill various pages with citations from the Vedas, many of them beautiful. The reader whose interest is piqued by this brief reference can consult any good treatise of Vedic mythology, above all that of Macdonell, which is excellent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [17] In Castillian literature, among the metaphors referring to the sun, we find this, from Quevedo:
    Bermejazo platero de las cumbres,
    A cuya luz se espulga la canalla.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    One of the henchmen of G\u00f3ngora called the sun el gran duque de las buj\u00edas, believing to realize its splendor with such disparate (Campillo).<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [18] Macdonell says: “The highest step of Vishnu is seen by the liberal like an eye fixed in heaven. The opinion that Vishnu’s three steps refer to the course of the sun is almost unanimous.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [19] In Egypt, the sky is also compared to an immense face, whose right eye was the sun and left eye was the moon (Encicl. Brit.)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [20] Macdonell says: “The eye of Mitra and Varuna is the sun. The fact that this is always mentioned in the first verse of a hymn, suggests that it is one of the first ideas that occur when Mitra and Varuna are thought of. The eye with which Varuna is said in a hymn to S\u00fbrya to observe mankind, is undoubtedly the sun. Together with the Aryaman, Mitra and Varuna are called sun-eyed, a term applied to other gods also.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Basque Mythology<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    39. Does there really exist a Basque mythology?\u00a0[21]\u00a0To answer this question, we should have some idea of the primitive religious traditions of the Basques. It is believed by many, Campion among them, that the Basques professed a naturalist religion. But of it, we know little to nothing concretely, supposing that it consisted in the adoration of the elements and the celestial bodies. Menendez Pelayo also suspected that the protohistoric Basques were adorers of the celestial bodies and, especially, the moon, but he adds that maybe vestiges of this cult remain in the Basque traditions, without resorting to the problematic\u00a0Jaun Goikoa<\/em>, Moon god. (Urroz).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Arana Goiri says: “Are there traditions concerning the religious cult that the Basque race observed thirty or forty centuries ago? None.” For Vinson, the Basques converted to Christianity around the tenth century. P. Lhande opinions that in the language of our times there does not exist a single term that permits arriving to the conclusion that there were ancient divinities among the Basques. Another Basque-French writer, L. Apesteguy, affirms that the Basque race is so saturated with Christianity that it did not conserve any of the religious forms that preceded it. From there it is deduced that it completely renounced its prehistoric pass in favor of the doctrines and disciplines of the Church. All of the dogmatic, liturgical and moral vocabulary is taken from the Church.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Unamuno also recognizes that neither in the customs nor in the language of the Basques do there remain marks of an indigenous cult or of religious beliefs prior to the introduction of Christianity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    As historic testimony, there remains that of Strabo, who says in his Geografia that the vascones reunited with their families on the nights of the full moon, to venerate with songs and dances an unnamed god. (P. Lhande)\u00a0[22].<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    40. We will not repeat that said before about the adoration of the sun by the Basques, assumed by Arana Goiri, and about the\u00a0Jaungoiko<\/em> ‘lord (of the) moon,’ of Bonaparte and Vinson. Neither will we speak of the supposed Basque gods Asto ilunno deo, Baicorixo deo, Ilumbero, etc., of the votive stone tablets found in the Novempopulania, since such vestiges are more accurately signs of the relatively modern influence of foreign people and civilizations. (Urroz). However, in the opinion of Schuchardt, Asto iluno (name of a deity) is a synthesis of the Basque terms\u00a0aste<\/em>\u00a0‘week’ and\u00a0ilhun<\/em>\u00a0‘night.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The dolmenes of Eguilaz, Aralar, Aizgorri, and other places of Euskadi have been conveniently explored and studied, but by the fact that they have the entrance facing to the east, we cannot deduce with certainty that they were druidic altars, nor that the tribes that erected them worshipped the sun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    41. Neither in the swastika is it precise to see a survival of primitive paganism. The swastika, which for C. Jullian is the essential problem of Basque civilization, appears reproduced to the point of satiation, not only in the old discoid steles of Basque cemeteries, but also in the furniture and fa\u00e7ades of the houses. (Courteault).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Among the decorative motives of the Basque tombs, stars of six points, rosettas or daisies, and helices, that is, swastikas, are abundant. (Colas). All of them could be astral symbols. But it is also possible to suppose that these motives appeared about the stars responding to a need of the artistic spirit of the community, and far from being symbols of complex beliefs, they were simply fillers of the surfaces vacated by the lack of the forgotten anthropomorphic decoration. (Frankowski).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [21] With reason, Aranzadi said: “\u2026 the absence of certain other original elements of culture, as for example that of mythology and epics, which disgusted Vinson, do not have the transcendental significance that he attributed to it, if we take into account the meager extension of the territory and the millenary influence of Latin and Castilian in the leader classes of the country.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [22] Strabo says: “According to some authors, the Gallegos lack all religion; but the celtiberos and the bordering towns on the side of the Septentrion, recognize one deity without a name, to which they pay tribute, each family forming at the full moons, in front of the door of its house and during the night, dance choirs, which they last until the morning” (Costa).<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The Sun and Moon in Basque Folklore<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    42. We see, then, how debatable the religious origins of the Basques are. With these antecedents, it is adventurous to speak of Basque mythology. Because of that we cannot assess the fantasies of Chaho, which, as P. Lhande said very well, lack completely scientific value. In these last years, matured speaking of Basque mythology, and with such a title an interesting conference in Euskara was given by the distinguished professor of the Seminary of Vitoria, D. Jose Miguel de Barandiaran, soul of the Laboratory of Ethnology and Eusko-Folklore, one of the most flowering sections of the meritorious\u00a0Society of Basque Studies<\/strong>. But it suffices to cast a glance at the conference of Mr. Barandiaran, to become convinced that it is more accurately a study of folkloric character. The data retrieved in it has, however, great interest and permit curious comparisons with Vedic mythology.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In Berastegui they say that the sun is the eye of God, and the same occurs in Elduayen with respect to the moon. We have already seen that in the Vedas the sun is the eye of the gods, the eye of the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In Berastegui and Abadiano the children are told that the moon is the face of God, and in Rigoitia it is shown by the nights saying that it is Jesus. For its part, the Rigveda compares the adorable light of\u00a0Surya<\/em>\u00a0with the face (anika<\/em>) of the great Agni.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    43. But there is another fact even more interesting, which confirms the tight affinity of ideas between sun and eye. According to Barandiaran, in Ataun the sun is called\u00a0euzkibegie<\/em>. He translates this as ‘the eye of the diurnal light,’ without doubt by way of supposing that\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0actually means ‘diurnal light,’ in which Schuchardt coincides. But whatever the primitive meaning of eguzki<\/em>, when encountering a compound like\u00a0euskibegi<\/em>, we must all agree in that it is composed of\u00a0euzki<\/em>, variant of\u00a0eguzki<\/em>, and\u00a0begi<\/em>\u00a0‘eye,’ that is, sun-eye, which is precisely one of the interpretations of\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0proposed by us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    So that, with the word\u00a0eguzkibegi<\/em>, on one side we observe the existence of a pleonasmo, and on the other a case of semantic evolution. Right now, the explanation of the why of this evolution is lacking. The same Barandiaran will tell it to us: “In Ataun they call the solar or diurnal light\u00a0euzkie<\/em>.” It cannot be more clear. On encountering the Basque of Ataun with which\u00a0eguzki<\/em>\u00a0meant at the same time ‘sun’ and ‘light of the day,’ there was a desire to differentiate the two, reserving\u00a0euzki<\/em>\u00a0for the solar light and adding\u00a0begi<\/em>\u00a0‘eye’ to form the name of the diurnal star. Maybe their ancestors did the same to differentiate\u00a0egu<\/em>\u00a0‘day’ from\u00a0egu<\/em>\u00a0‘sun’ by way of\u00a0uzki<\/em>, which at that time must have been the current name of ‘eye’ (organ of sight).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In English as in Spanish, however the lexical richness of these languages, sun<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0sol<\/em>\u00a0have very diverse meanings. In English,\u00a0sun<\/em> means not only the luminary that lights up the day, but also, in general, the body that occupies the center of a planetary system, and anything extremely splendid or that gives physical or moral light. It also means sunny place, the place where the sun gives fully, and is a synonym of\u00a0sunlight<\/em>. In Spanish, in addition to the diurnal body, we designate with the same word ‘day; light, heat or influx of the sun; musical note; genero de encajes, and coin of Peru.’ We cannot express light of the sun or ray of the sun with only one word, as in the English\u00a0sunlight<\/em>,\u00a0sunshine<\/em>,\u00a0sunbeam<\/em>. On the other hand, Spanish has at its disposal the term\u00a0solana<\/em>, which in English must be translated by\u00a0sun<\/em>,\u00a0sunny place<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In the Dictionary of Azkue,\u00a0eguzkibegi<\/em>\u00a0and its variants mean ‘sunny place,’ that is ‘solana.’ Said variants are:\u00a0eguzkubegi<\/em>,\u00a0ekhi-begi<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0eki-begi<\/em>. There is, in addition, in the Gipuzkoan of Ezquioga, the term\u00a0ekera<\/em>, which means ‘sunny place,’ ‘east,’ and which, according to Azkue, is a variant of\u00a0egutera<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Etymologies of Chaho<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    44. Agustin Chaho, a Basque-French writer, conceived the legend of Aitor, patriarch of the Indo-Atlantis race. Many are the fantastic etymologies which said legend contains, but it is to admit the insight with which some questions are treated, among them the affinity of ideas between sun and eye, although Chaho departs from a diametrically opposed principle. It is worth recording his words: “You must have seen a mountain, severe in the twilight, smiling in the dawn, when its hilly flowers become green and the first rays of the sun convert the drops of dew to diamonds: such is the forehead of man, when he leaves the dream of the night. There the divine will positions the two eyes,\u00a0Beghiak<\/em>, that is, the two suns,\u00a0Bi- Ekhiak<\/em>; the two corporal intelligences, the two truths,\u00a0Bi-eghiak<\/em>; the two mirrors from where the imagination takes its loaned evocations, from where the comprehension calls the tribunal of the interior sun and of the spiritual eye the marvels of the external world. It is by the eyes that man sees:\u00a0Ikus<\/em>,\u00a0Ekhas<\/em>: it is by this vision reflected in the interior crystal that the intelligence instructs, learns, conceives,\u00a0Ikhas<\/em>, that is,\u00a0Ikhus-as<\/em>, begins to see the truth. Man acquires science with the eyes of the body and of the spirit, and transmits it by way of the word which paints things to the imagination, and sketches the ideas of the understanding,\u00a0Erakhats<\/em>, that is, it shows them, makes them see, teaches them,\u00a0Ikus-Eras<\/em>. Thus the eyes of man are the iluminating stars of his thought, in the same way that the sun is the eye of Nature. The vigilant eye signifies a guardian, and the sun is also called\u00a0Beghiraria<\/em>, argus or celestial guardian. The eyes, according to the inspired poetry of the language of my people, are the emblem of science and prudence, as the bodies are an emblem of strength, of brilliance, of light and of pride: a lamb that has seven horns and seven eyes has been the myth of the solar truth, the symbol of the Basque civilizations.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The Grammatical Gender of the Celestial Bodies<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    45. Did the nouns in Basque have a grammatical gender? Astarloa regards as useless weight the distinction of gender, of which Basque nouns lack. Uhlenbeck agrees with Schuchardt in supposing that at one time they had it. He sees a proof of the primitive differentiation in the feminine form of the second person singular in the present of the transitive verb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    46. Among the nouns that lack sex, as for example the names of the stars, it is curious to observe that for the Germanic people the moon was primitively of masculine gender, and the sun feminine. In the mythology of the Edda,\u00a0M\u00e2ni<\/em>, the Moon, is the son, and\u00a0\u00a0S\u00f4l<\/em>, the Sun, the daughter of Mundilf\u00f6ri. The same occurs with the Gothic\u00a0m\u00eana<\/em>,\u00a0sunn\u00f4<\/em>, and the Anglo-Saxon\u00a0m\u00f4na<\/em>,\u00a0sunne<\/em>. In English, Chaucer, in the fourteenth century still alluded to the sun as feminine, in phrases such as this: “to fynde the degree in which the sonne is day by day, after\u00a0hir<\/em>\u00a0cours abowte.” That in English sun and moon have changed gender is due to the influence of classical models. (Max M\u00fcller)\u00a0[23]. Even in our days, the German\u00a0Sonne<\/em>\u00a0‘sun’ is feminine and\u00a0Mond<\/em>\u00a0‘moon,’ masculine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In Sanskrit, the well-known names of the moon, such as Kandra, Soma, Indu, and Vidhu, are masculine. The Lithuanians also give the moon masculine gender, and the sun feminine. (Max M\u00fcller).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    For the Acadians, the moon existed before the sun. (Max M\u00fcller)\u00a0[24]. In the beginning times of the Caldea, the god Moon was the chief, the powerful, the sovereign of the gods, the lord of the spirits, the resplendent. In the time of the Babylon Empire, he had diminished in standing, but even then a hymn of the city of Ur attributed to him these concepts: “Lord, prince of the gods, only sublime in the heavens and on the earth! — Father, illuminator, lord, God, protector, prince of the gods!” (Costa). On the other hand, for the Semites, the sun came first and occupied the principal position among the gods. From here that in Acadia the moon was conceived as man and the sun as woman, while in Babylon the sun was of masculine gender and the moon as feminine. (Max M\u00fcller).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In the ancient mythology of Japan, the solar goddess fulfilled the most important role, while her brother, the lunar god, occupied an insignificant place. (Encicl. Espasa).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Among the Basques, the cult of the sun seems to have predominated. So much that, as we have said at the beginning, there are those that believe that the Basque owes his national name to the diurnal star,\u00a0eguzki<\/em>. Arana Goiri says: “… the Basques, without doubt from the most remote times venerated the sun with a cult so extraordinary that it is, it can be said, the only that with that of the moon has conserved until the opening of the doors of History.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    47. The lack of ancient texts and the shortage of grammatic gender of Basque nouns\u00a0[25]\u00a0make it very difficult to determine the sex attributed to the sun and the moon, in the case that they were actually worshipped as gods. We can only call Basque folklore to our aid, and judging by it, both the sun the moon were considered of the feminine sex. According to Barandiaran, in Elosua and Placencia they recite at sunset the following verses:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Euzki amandria
    Juan da bere amagana
    Biar etoriko da
    Denpora ona bada.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The grandmother Sun
    Has gone to her mother.
    She will return tomorrow,
    if there is good weather.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Another variant, recorded as well by Barandiaran in the same localities and in Rigoitia and Cortezubi, substitutes the juan da<\/em> by badoya<\/em>, or that is that the action of the preterit is converted to that of the present, with the confirmative adverbial prefix ba-<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In Rigoitia they often recite the following verses:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Eguzki santu bedeinkatue
    Zoaz zeure amagana
    Etori zaitez bijer
    Denpora ona bada.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Holy blessed Sun,
    Go to your mother.
    Come tomorrow
    if there is good weather.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    48. As to the moon, the children are directed to her as well, in verses such as the following, recorded by Barandiaran in Ataun and Ormaiztegui:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Ilargi amandrea
    Zeruan ze beri?
    —Zeruan beri onak
    Oran eta beti.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Grandmother moon\u00a0[26]
    What is new in the heavens?
    —In the heavens good news,
    Now and always.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The same author says that in other places (e.g. in Zaldibia and Andoain) these verses are directed, with minor variations, to the insect called\u00a0Marigori<\/em>,\u00a0Matxingoringo<\/em>, etc.=’vaquita of Saint Anthony.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    49. Among the riddles collected by Azkue, there is one that says:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Mi\u00f1a-mi\u00f1a lurpeko,
    andre adera ekiko,
    Lope txapar-ondoko.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    which Azkue translates literally as follows: “It is spicy and underground, beautiful lady of the sun, Lope del de junto al matorral” (sic). And the solution is:\u00a0\u00a0Tipula, iduzki ta otsoa<\/em>\u00a0= ‘onion, garlic, and wolf.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Here we see that the sun has lost some years, since from grandmother she passes to beautiful se\u00f1ora. But, in any case, in doesn’t allow agreement in the essential the folklore of all of the towns of the Basque Country that have been studied until now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [23] This same author says: “Now if the moon was originally called by the farmer the measurer, the ruler of days and weeks and seasons, the regulator of the tides, the lord of their festivals and the herald of their public assemblies, it is but natural that he should have been conceived as a man and not as the love-sick maiden which our modern sentimental poetry has put in his place.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [24] The night, that is, the darkness, has always been the object of superstitious terror, the same among the primitive cultures as among the uncivilized. In the opinion of some authors, this would explain the worship of the moon, which with respect to that of the sun surpasses it in antiquity and universality. (Encicl. Espasa). On the other hand, for other authors the moon-god is, by excellence, the god of the nomadic cultures, their guide and protector in the forays that they populate at night during a good part of the year; while the sun-god is the principal god of an agricultural country. (Encicl. Brit.).<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [25] The case of Japan is very similar. We copy from the Encicl. Espasa: “The most notable analogy was that which was found among the solar goddess and the aspect of the personality of Bhudda, conceived in the solar myth. The anomaly of gender preoccupied very few of the syncretists, not only because Japanese lacks gender, but also because the noumena and their manifestations are able to take on any gender.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [26] In the popular legends of India, the dark or obscure parts of the moon were compared to the silhouette of a goat and also with that of an old woman that is spinning wool with her wheel. The popular imagination has seen the wool in the brilliant parts of the lunar disc. (Shovona Devi). It would be very interesting figure out if in Basque folklore there exists something similar. Is the grandmother moon the ancient spinner of the Indostanic legend?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In Japan, it is said that the art of weaving was practiced by the solar goddess, Amaterasu. (Encicl. Brit.).<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Sin, name of the moon-god in Babylon and Asyria, was represented as an old man with a long beard. Among the Greeks, Selene, young and beautiful, was the personification of the moon. (Encicl. Brit.)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The Mother of the Sun<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    50. Another detail of great interest, which the cited verses contain, could not pass by us undetected. In them, not only is the sun invoked, but they also speak of a trip to where her mother is. And thus arises the question: Who is she, where is the mother of the sun?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    We return again to call to our aid comparative mythology. In Vedic,\u00a0\u00a0d\u00edv<\/em>,\u00a0dyu<\/em>\u00a0‘sky’ was considered generally as the father, while the earth was the mother and\u00a0Ushas<\/em>\u00a0(dawn) the daughter. (Monier-Williams). According to Macdonell, the conception of the earth as mother and of the sky as father (Sanskrit\u00a0Dyaus p\u00edtar<\/em>, Greek\u00a0Zeus p\u00e1ter<\/em>, Latin\u00a0Jupiter<\/em>) dates from what seems from very remote times. Because the idea that the sky and the earth are parents of the universe was not only familiar to Vedic mythology, but also to those of Greece, China, and New Zealand. There remain vestiges in Egyptian mythology as well. (Macdonell)\u00a0[27].<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    This idea was the product of the observation that man made that both the sky and the earth are charged with providing the nutrition of living beings: the sky in the form of rain and light which fertilizes the earth and the earth with the vegetation that leaves from her bosom. The myth of the conjugal union of the sky and the earth is encountered amplialy diffused among the primitive cultures, and it is believed that it is probably prior to the separation of the Indo-Europeans. In the Vedas, sky and earth are not only called parents but also are invoked as parents of the gods. Also, the dawn (Ushas<\/em>) is spoken of incidentally as mother of the sun, for preceding it in its appearance. (Macdonell).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    According accounts by Herodotus, the Egyptians had laws and customs that, in their majority, were the opposite of those that the rest of humanity observed. This observation could also be applied to their mythology. They personified the sky and the earth, but made the earth the husband and the sky the wife. This anomaly was based on purely grammatical reasons, since in Egyptian the term ‘sky’\u00a0pet<\/em> was feminine and\u00a0to<\/em>\u00a0‘earth’ masculine. (Frazer).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    51. For the primitive Basque, the sun was personified as a woman, whose mother was the earth. In the least, the meaning of the phrase authorizes one to suppose thus. We must not forget that the children recite these verses at sunset, and on saying go to your mother<\/em>, when the sun is hidden by the horizon, it seems to be an allusion to the Mother earth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Otherwise, it is necessary to think that the Basques believed at one time in the existence of an underworld, analogous to that which the mythologies of other cultures present. In that of the Eskimos, for example, arises the curious coincidence that the one who governs is an ancient woman, named Sedna. The Egyptians believed that the sun crossed this underworld during the hours of the night (Encicl. Brit.). On the other hand, in the Vedas there is no direct allusion to the passage of the sun beneath the earth. It is supposed that the belief existed that the sun retraced by night its path, returning to the east, but completely extinguished. (Macdonell).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [27] Moulton said: “Classical writers portray for us the religion of the ancient Germans and Gauls and Persians, and the portraits agree in the prominence assigned to the sun and moon, and to the associated worship of heaven and earth, which latter were regarded as father and mother of all.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Conclusion<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    Do not believe that we have adduced facts and established parallels to elevate a system of Basque mythology or search for a linguistic relationship. Pictet did say that among diverse cultures epiteths can arise directed to the sun, without which follows a primitive affinity. And he added: “It was very natural to see in the sun a disc or wheel of gold, the jewel or eye of the sky, the star that sees and knows all, etc.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    W. Webster said that, in his opinion, there is only some forty motifs or original ideas in all the folklore of the human species. All of the rest come to be like the changes and variations of the pieces of a kaleidoscope. Nothing has been found in Basque folklore that is not encountered in the folklore of other countries. The only existent difference is reduced to the local color and the manner of narrating the deeds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    For its part, mythology obeys general laws and presents similarities in the myths of all cultures. (Sayce). In the opinion of this author, the relationship of the languages is the only thing that can guide us to the identity of origin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Comparative semantics can serve us for the restitution of many lost forms and to get to the bottom of the primitive meaning of words. As was said very well by P. Restrepo: “The study of comparative semantics is of great importance. To study the semantic influences of the culture of a community in that of another; and to study the semantic coincidences is to touch that which is the most characteristic of the understanding of the language; since if in spite of the very diverse circumstances in which diverse cultures are found coincide in expressing the same ideas with the same translations, it is a sign that such an expression is not due to caprice nor to secondary circumstances that so much vary from one culture to another, but rather that it is very consistent with the nature of things and with the mode of conception of the human understanding.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

    This text discusses the historical and etymological study of Basque terms for the sun and moon, tracing their origins, meanings, and cultural significance. It reflects on how these celestial bodies were revered in Basque mythology and folklore. The examination includes influences from Indo-European languages and comparative semantics, highlighting linguistic complexities.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":7928,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-7919","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/P2sYNu-23J","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7919","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7919"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7919\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7930,"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7919\/revisions\/7930"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7928"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7919"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}