Advances in Comparative Colonial Toponomastics 9783110712452, 9783110712377

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Advances in Comparative Colonial Toponomastics

Koloniale und Postkoloniale Linguistik Colonial and Postcolonial Linguistics Edited by Stefan Engelberg, Peter Mühlhäusler, Doris Stolberg, Thomas Stolz, and Ingo H. Warnke

Volume 14

Advances in Comparative Colonial Toponomastics

Edited by Nataliya Levkovych

ISBN 978-3-11-071237-7 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-071245-2 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-071247-6 Library of Congress Control Number: 2020941151 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2020 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck www.degruyter.com

Preface This collection of articles is meant to mark the next step forward in the research conducted within the framework of Comparative Colonial Toponomastics (CoCoTop). CoCoTop took shape in 2015 and has developed into a very productive international research program. The foundations of CoCoTop were laid in the seminal article by Stolz and Warnke (2015) the focus of which was still on the impact of German colonialism on the naming of geo-objects in official and semi-official documents of the colonial administration. Since this first study CoCoTop has made considerable progress as can be gathered from the subsequent edited volumes such as Dunker et al. (2017) and Stolz and Warnke (2018d). The contributions which go to the credit of the proponents of CoCoTop in Bremen cover a wide range of topics including theoretical and methodological aspects (Döschner 2018; Dunker 2017; Stolz and Warnke 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018a; Warnke et al. 2016) as well as numerous (inter alia comparative) empirical studies on colonial toponomasticons (Levkovych 2018; Lesho and Sippola 2018; Otsuka 2018; Schuster 2018, 2019; Stolz and Warnke 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018b, 2018c, 2019; Stolz et al. 2016, 2019). Our knowledge of the empirical side of the phenomenon has grown immensely. The increase of available data notwithstanding, we still ignore many manifestations of colonialism on the maps of former colonies and their modern successor states. However, the need for further dedicated research for CoCoTop does not only refer to the empirical facts but also has to do with methodology, theory, and interdisciplinary evaluation. CoCoTop has advanced but nevertheless the project is still in its initial stages. Advances in comparative colonial toponomastics gives evidence of the growing internationalization of CoCoTop. The authors of the articles united in this edited volume are at home academically in the Italy, Denmark, Hungary, and Germany. Their scholarly papers help to widen the scope of our research program. This volume hosts studies which address topics that have hitherto not been given the attention they deserve. For the purpose of better orientation, the articles are distributed over four categories: I. General Toponomastics II. CoCoTop Studies III. Reports IV. Fresh Data The collection is opened by Valéria Tóth’s study of Hungarian toponyms which reflects the state of the art in general toponomastics and thus serves as a point

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-001

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of reference for the ideas developed within our own framework. It is evident that these ideas do not necessarily agree with each and every point of view that is standard in general toponomastics. There is thus ample opportunity for further discussion between representatives of the two approaches. Part II comprises those papers which look at phenomena which are relevant for furthering the course of CoCoTop. Sandra Herling compares the role of Spanish and French toponyms which were coined in 16th to 18th century in the territories claimed by Spain and France in what later became the United States of America. The author identifies shared properties and individual traits between the two colonial toponomasticons. Marie A. Rieger zooms in on particular facet of the toponomasticon of the Usambara region in Deutsch-Ostafrika. The focus is on the records of place names kept by the Austrian geographer Oskar Baumann in the late 19th century. It is important to note that indigenous place names usually did not undergo significant changes. The collaborative paper by Ingo H. Warnke, Thomas Stolz, Jascha de Bloom and Nataliya Levkovych focuses on the functional load of geoclassifiers in the German colonial toponomasticon by way of emphasizing that it makes sense to distinguish several types of geo-classifiers. The second paper by members of the Bremen CoCoTop team, Thomas Stolz and Nataliya Levkovych presents the intriguing case of the Gani-islands (Northern Marianas) where the succession of several colonizer nations – Spain, Germany, Japan, United States – has failed to leave any traces in the local toponomasticon. What is more, there are also no indigenous place names in spite of the fact that the islands have been settled on and off. Riccardo Contini and Luca D’Anna situate two Italian scholars of the Italian colonial period in Africa in the general discussion of colonial toponomastics. It is shown how Carlo Alfonso Nallino and Eugenio Griffini were responsible – sometimes in disagreement between them – for the shaping of the Libyan toponomasticon under the Italian regime. Part III contains two reports on projects-to-be on Danish colonial toponomastics. Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen and Ivalu Kristine Lidsmoes provide a general overview of the empirically rich Danish colonial toponomasticon. The Danish colonial empire consisted of colonies on several continents including Greenland, the Danish Virgin Islands, forts in West Africa, and possessions in India. Karoline Kühl and Iben Holmegaard Aastrup concentrate on the Danish Virgin Islands. They aim at describing the colonial toponomasticon of the Caribbean Islands under Danish rule with reference to models of linguistic ecology.

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The fourth part outlines the findings of the first master thesis at the University of Bremen the topic of which is tightly connected to the aims of CoCoTop. Anna Wolter has taken stock of all those street names in Bremen, which can be related to German colonialism. These street names are given in an annotated alphabetic list to be used as a database for interested scholars. Most of the papers in Parts I–II were presented on occasion of the Workshop “Colonial Toponomastics” on 24th and 25th September 2018 at the University of Bremen. The other papers (Parts III–IV) have been invited to complement the collection. I am grateful to Paolo Miccoli for lending me a helping hand with the organization of the above workshop. I am indebted to Thomas Stolz and Ingo H. Warnke for serving as reviewers of the draft versions of the papers. I say thank you also to Cornelia Stroh for shouldering the final editorial steps. The workshop has been made possible by a grant within the APF Programm Sprachwissenschaft 2015–2019 of the City State of Bremen. Nataliya Levkovych, Bremen (Germany) April 2020

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References Döschner, Jascha. 2018. Wie viel ‚Gattung‘ haben Geo-Objekte? Gattungsnamen aus kolonialtoponomastischer Perspektive. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 77–94. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Dunker, Axel. 2017. Ortsnamen. Namen überhaupt. Benennungspraktiken in Prozessen kolonialer Raumaneignung. In Axel Dunker, Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Benennungspraktiken in Prozessen kolonialer Raumaneignung, 1–16. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Dunker, Alex, Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.). 2017. Benennungspraktiken in Prozessen kolonialer Raumaneignung. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Lesho, Marivic & Eeva Sippola. 2018. Toponyms in Manila and Cavite, Philippines. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 317–332. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Levkovych, Nataliya. 2018. Russische koloniale Toponyme in Alaska: eine Pilotstudie. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 189–278. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Otsuka, Hitomi. 2018. Toponomastik im Kontext des japanischen Kolonialismus. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 333–508. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Schuster, Susanne. 2018. Europäische Ortsnamen als Zeugen kolonialer Raumaneignung: Grönlands Nordosten. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 161–187. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Schuster, Susanne. 2019. “The making of Greenland” – Early European place names in Kalaallit Nunaat. In Brigitte Weber (ed.), The linguistic heritage of colonial practice, 43–73. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas, Nataliya Levkovych & Ingo H. Warnke. 2019. Anthroponymic constituents of colonial toponyms: A comparison of Netherlands New Guinea and Portuguese Timor (as of 1955). Onomastica Uralica 12. 189–210. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2015. Aspekte der kolonialen und postkolonialen Toponymie unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des deutschen Kolonialismus. In Daniel SchmidtBrücken, Susanne Schuster, Thomas Stolz, Ingo H. Warnke & Marina Wienberg. (eds.), Koloniallinguistik. Sprache in kolonialen Kontexten, 107–176. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2016. When places change their names and when they do not. Selected aspects of colonial and postcolonial toponymy in former French and Spanish colonies in West Africa – the cases of Saint Louis (Senegal) and the Western Sahara. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 239. 29–56. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2017. Anoikonyme und Oikonyme im Kontext der vergleichenden Kolonialtoponomastik. In Axel Dunker, Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Benennungspraktiken in Prozessen kolonialer Raumaneignung, 205–229. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2018a. System- und diskurslinguistische Einblicke in die vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik: Eine gemeinsame Einführung. In Thomas Stolz &

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Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik: Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 1–75. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2018b. Auf dem Weg zu einer vergleichenden Kolonialtoponomastik. Der Fall Deutsch-Südwestafrika. In Birte Kellermeier-Rehbein, Matthias Schulz & Doris Stolberg (eds.), Sprache und (Post)Kolonialismus, 71–103. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2018c. Comparative Colonial Toponomastics: Evidence from German and Dutch colonial place-names. In Rita Heuser & Miriam Schmuck (eds.), Sonstige Namenarten: Stiefkinder der Onomastik, 45–68. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.). 2018d. Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik: Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2019. Saints, nobility, and other heroes. Colonial placenaming as part of the European linguistic heritage. In Brigitte Weber (ed.), The linguistic heritage of colonial practice, 13–42. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas, Ingo H. Warnke & Nataliya Levkovych. 2016. Colonial place names in comparative perspective. Beiträge zur Namenforschung 51(3/4). 279–355. Warnke, Ingo H., Thomas Stolz & Daniel Schmidt-Brücken. 2016. Perspektiven der Postcolonial Language Studies. In Thomas Stolz, Ingo H. Warnke & Daniel Schmidt-Brücken (eds.), Sprache und Kolonialismus. Eine interdisziplinäre Einführung zu Sprache und Kommunikation in kolonialen Kontexten, 1–25. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton.

Contents Nataliya Levkovych Preface | V

Part I: General Toponomastics  Valéria Tóth  Theoretical considerations in the linguistic analysis of toponyms | 3

Part II: CoCoTop Studies  Sandra Herling  Spanish and French colonial toponyms in the territory of present-day USA (16th to 18th century) | 25 Marie A. Rieger  Vorland-Nyika and Kumbamulde. The handling of indigenous place names in Oskar Baumann’s Usambara writings  | 51 Ingo H. Warnke, Thomas Stolz, Jascha de Bloom and Nataliya Levkovych  Martin Luther at a Pacific harbor. Toponymic classifiers and their role in German colonial place-making | 79 Thomas Stolz and Nataliya Levkovych  Places without names and names without places? On the blank maps of the Gani-Islands  | 117 Riccardo Contini and Luca D’Anna  Between Arabic philology and colonial enterprise. Carlo Alfonso Nallino (1872– 1938), Eugenio Griffini (1878–1925) and Libyan toponymy  | 155

Part III: Reports  Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen and Ivalu Kristine Lidsmoes  Danish colonial toponomastics | 187

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Karoline Kühl and Iben Holmegaard Aastrup  How Danish were the Danish West Indies? Language use in written sources in a multilingual colonial society | 219

Part IV: Fresh Data  Anna Wolter  Stadt der Kolonien – Street names in colonial contexts with particular consideration of the Hanseatic City of Bremen | 245 Index of Authors | 299 Index of Languages | 303 Index of Subjects and Toponyms | 305



Part I: General Toponomastics

Valéria Tóth

Theoretical considerations in the linguistic analysis of toponyms Abstract: My paper uses a functional linguistics approach and addresses issues related to toponym theory. In the first parts, I discuss some of the key principles of the functional approach (e.g., the role of name models and schemes), followed by an overview of name analysis. I also introduce toponym types and topoformants as they must be defined for the further analysis of names. The structural description of names (including the description of both the functional-semantic and the lexical-morphological models) is followed by the introduction of the historical aspect and the models of name-giving and name changes. In the final section of the paper, I focus on the issue of toponym borrowing (i.e., the relations between linguistic contacts and toponymic systems): in this respect I write about name pairs and the phenomenon of name integration. As part of the conclusion, I highlight the role of linguistic prestige from the perspective of linguistic contacts and toponym use. Keywords: name theory, functional linguistics, toponym structure, toponym history, toponym borrowing

1 The principles of toponym analysis No toponymic system of any language may be described without an adequate theoretical framework and typology. Toponym typologies, however, are often characterized by a mixture of approaches and the heterogeneity of considerations and concepts used. Yet it is a basic requirement for any toponymic study that the criteria of the inquiry shall be distinguished clearly even if these different features are present simultaneously in a complex way in the particular elements and operation of the name system. Moreover, it is important to clearly separate the criteria of the analysis exactly so that they can be introduced in relation to one another, in interaction, and in their real network of relationships.

|| Valéria Tóth, University of Debrecen, Department of Hungarian Linguistics, Egyetem tér 1, 4032 Debrecen, Hungary. E-mail: [email protected] https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-002

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The toponym analysis framework discussed in my paper is basically of a functional nature and distinguishes between two, closely related approaches: descriptive and historical analysis. Descriptive analysis primarily studies the structure of the toponym but within this the functional-semantic and lexicalmorphological approaches provide an opportunity for further differentiation. Historical analysis focuses on two factors, the processes of name genesis and change. Of course, additional considerations may also be relevant in the study of place names (onomatostylistic, name sociological, etc.), however, these may be considered as playing only a complementary role in the typological, systemic description of toponymic elements. The central position of descriptive and historical analyses, as the two fundamental aspects of toponym analysis, is due to the fact that names are linguistic signs themselves, and traditionally in the interpretation of these the descriptive, constructive (containing both formal and functional components) and diachronic analyses have played a crucial role. This toponym description framework is characterized by a high degree of differentiation. There are clearly-defined categories on each level of analysis, which possibly cover the full scope of name formation methods; thus the categorical system developed in this way may be suitable for the description of all types of toponyms (microtoponyms and macrotoponyms alike) and of the name-formation processes and characteristics of all eras. We believe that ultimately name-analysis is nothing else but the exploration of the regularities and patterns in place names (with regard to their creation and functioning). And, if we evaluate each name (as members of the system of toponyms) in view of these investigations, the totality of the names can also be presented in a systematic way. We presented Hungarian toponyms using the descriptive model to be introduced below in our Hungarian and English monographs (Hoffmann et al. 2017, 2018). One may find further details in these concerning the principles of the analysis as well as the toponym analysis method itself. The name analysis model has also been published in its outlines (see Hoffmann and Tóth 2018a, 2018b). Still, I consider it important enough to discuss it again in practically the same form (in Sections 5 to 7) because the problematics of toponym borrowing and name integration that I deal with in the second part of my paper can be introduced based on this.

2 Schemes and name models According to functional linguistics, the systematicity of language is primarily made up by schemes, which are decontextualized, abstract structures of linguis-

Theoretical considerations in the linguistic analysis of toponyms | 5

tic expressions that serve as models on different levels at the time of the creation of linguistic expressions (cf., Ladányi and Tolcsvai Nagy 2008: 26; Tolcsvai Nagy 2017a: 33–35, 51, 57–59, 63). The schemes are developed with the ordering of specimens into categories (Bybee 2006: 730). There are scholars who refer to the relationship between general patterns interacting with each other through use as schemes, they also highlight the emergence of general patterns from specific elements deriving from direct experience (for more information see Barlow and Kemmer 2000: 3 and 17: Note 1.). At the same time, the schemes are not rules (as language is not a ready-made system of rules and tools) but probability patterns that develop by means of categorization and constructive operations through frequent use by the individual and the community (Ladányi and Tolcsvai Nagy 2008: 26; Tolcsvai Nagy 2017a: 63–64, 2017b: 35). In this approach, we look at the specific specimens of the toponymic system as the implementations of linguistic patterns, models. The language-user abstracts language schemes from the known linguistic elements, structures (in this case toponyms in their linguistic stock), and based on these creates new names. Moreover, the user can also identify language elements previously unknown as names. The linguistic schemes are actually not categories of language description but an integral part of the mental-linguistic system of languageusers, which has a central role in the use of toponyms and exactly because of this must have a place also within the description of names. Schemes are recognizable both on the semantic and morphosyntactic level but they exist also in terms of phonotactics, socio-onomastics, etc. In cases when toponym typology attempts to capture these schemes (name-patterns, name-models), in reality it is trying to explicitly present these categories of the language-users’ cognitive-linguistic abilities (cf. Hoffmann 2012: 14). As the linguistic system is a strongly use- and experience-driven system according to the functional approach, the frequency of specimens and schemes is a primary factor in its structure and operation. A higher frequency of a linguistic construct or linguistic scheme results in a higher degree of cognitive routinization that affects the processing of the given unit. Thus frequency also plays an important role in the operation of the linguistic system (Barlow and Kemmer 2000: 4). As a result, frequency is also significant in connection with schemes, since frequency indicates for the individual the degree of routinization (which is the measure of individual language knowledge) and for the community it is the measure of conventionalization (indicating the acceptance of the linguistic expression, linguistic structure by the community) (Barlow and Kemmer 2000: 12– 13; Ladányi and Tolcsvai Nagy 2008: 30–31; Tolcsvai Nagy 2017a: 35, 58, 59–61).

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In the differences seen in the frequency of schemes, patterns play a role not only in the operation of the linguistic system but also in its changes. For example, on the morphosyntactic level this may appear as a conserving effect because frequent use strengthens the memory imprint of words and expressions with certain morphosyntactic features, which makes their availability as a whole easier and therefore it becomes less likely that they would fall victim to analogical changes (cf. Bybee 2006: 714–715, 723, 728, 730). There may be great differences not only in the degree of acceptance of certain schemes but also that of name specimens, with a certain scalar relationship between them. This means that we may use a name occasionally, only once and then forget it, that is, the name does not become conventional: these name specimens represent one end-point of the scale. The other end-point of the scale includes those names that have been functioning in society for centuries, i.e., they exist as “accepted, established onomastic conventions”. However, even among accepted, conventionalized names there are some that function only within a narrow group of users (for example, in the family and in smaller groups), while others are well-known worldwide (Van Langendonck and Van de Velde 2016: 19). The question of the frequency of name specimens is related to the frequency of schemes only to the extent that the schemes are based on specific name forms: information generalized from them analogically, in a way that connections are established between the networks mapping the names by means of shared elements of knowledge, and these links represent the schemes (Reszegi 2015: 165–166). The variations in the frequency of using schemes, models, and linguistic elements are also found in certain changes of the toponymic system. The formants used more rarely (affixes and geographical common nouns) are replaced much more often during changes by more frequent elements than vice versa. Using a specific example, this means that in the early Old Hungarian Era (895– 1350) the schemes of toponyms with the -gy and -j/-aj/-ej suffixes could operate as weaker models than that of toponyms with the -d and -i suffixes, and over time (as a phenomenon accompanying the end of the productivity of suffixes) the model of toponyms with the -gy and -j/-aj/-ej suffixes has assumed a peripheral position in name-giving. The same process applies to patak ‘brook’ and other hydrographic common nouns that displaced the old hydrographic common noun jó ‘river’ from the structure of hydronyms. The introduction of name patterns, name models (i.e., the linguistic schemes present in names) has a crucial role in the toponym description model introduced here, thus special attention is paid to the analysis of the linguistic structure. The genesis, functionality, and history of names are studied in rela-

Theoretical considerations in the linguistic analysis of toponyms | 7

tion to communication, human activities, and the environment even when the particular toponyms are interpreted as the manifestations of semantic and lexical-morphological models.1

3 Types of toponyms Toponyms have a rich semantic structure (for an overview see Hoffmann at al. 2018: 151–159) in which denotative meaning has a decisive role, and this besides individual identification expresses a degree of categorization in itself. This means that in case of the name-users being aware of the denotative meaning of the place name, they are also familiar with the type of the given place (whether the name refers to a settlement, a body of water, a mountain, etc.). Very often, this type of categorization is also expressed in the toponyms linguistically, while in the name structure this role is always played by geographical common nouns: e.g., the ér ‘brook’, falu ‘village’, hegy ‘mountain’ lexemes of the toponyms Száraz-ér (száraz ‘dry’/ér ‘brook’), Németfalu (német ‘German’/falu ‘village’), Körtvélyes-hegy (körtvélyes ‘abundant in pear trees’/hegy ‘mountain’), etc. serve this function. The identification of toponym types is a primary task in the linguistic analysis of toponyms, as such identification provides the basis for the further structural analysis of names. This means that a Sárospatak (sáros ‘muddy’ + patak ‘brook’) or a Hegyeshalom (hegyes ‘pointed’ + halom ‘smaller protrusion’) de|| 1 The role of schemes in name-giving is discernible also in the context of colonization. This has been shown in the publications of Thomas Stolz, Ingo H. Warnke and Nataliya Levkovych (e.g., Stolz and Warnke 2018, Stolz et al. 2016, 2018) within the Comparative Colonial Toponomastics (CoCoTop) research program (for the theoretical basis of the project see Stolz and Warnke 2018). The fact that the formal-structural, name formation models may differ even in the case of identical motivational backgrounds (identical semantic models) is well supported by those studies that compared the name-giving patterns of different countries in their colonies. The analysis involved the same toponym type (settlement names) and the same semantic model (settlement names formed from anthroponyms). The prototypical toponym scheme of toponymic systems of European colonies is the two-component, binary name form with a personal name first constituent and a geographical common noun second constituent. Besides this (less frequently) the anthroponym may appear on its own as a toponym and the name structure formed from an anthroponym with the use of a derivational suffix also appears in European colonial name giving. There are, however, major differences in terms of how frequent schemes these structures represent in a given naming system: the German colonial exonyms, for example, almost exclusively use the prototypical, two-component pattern (cf., Stolz et al. 2016, and in a narrower comparison 2018).

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nomination may be described with a very different name structure if it denotes a protrusion or in the instance where it serves as the name of a settlement. The different toponym types are often characterized by different name models, schemes, therefore, their linguistic differences are primarily seen in this respect. Categorization is to a certain extent a culture-specific phenomenon. Thus there may be differences between cultures and languages in terms of which categories receive a name and which do not (Van Langendock and Van de Velde 2016: 24). This may be clearly seen in, for example, bilingual settlements where polynymy is especially frequent, which actually derives from bilingualism itself: the objects of the settlement are named by both communities living there each in their own language. The usual reason for using only one name for an object in these settlements occurs when a certain object is not named by one of the communities, because that community does not interpret it as a “place” that should be denominated with a separate name (cf. Póczos 2010: 177).

4 Topoformants We recognize toponyms in their function partly based on their typical formal characteristics. Such components frequently appear on certain name types (lexical and morphological elements) that are characteristic only of them and are called topoformants. Topoformants are all those morphemes (independent lexemes or affix morphemes) that are used to express toponymic status linguistically in any era of a given language. Name-users create new toponyms with their use (Soltész 1979: 19–21, Tóth 2008: 182–192, Bényei 2012). We can distinguish between two types of topoformants (lexical topoformants and affixal topoformants) in terms of morphological and functional aspects. In the role of lexical topoformants, there are always geographical common nouns that are usually denoted with this term especially because of this special toponym-constituent role. These may fulfill a topoformant function in natural names (e.g., Ér ‘brook’, Száraz/ér ‘dry/brook’) and civilizational names alike (e.g., Lak ‘village’, Miklós/laka ‘Miklós’/village’). Geographical common nouns in toponyms are, however, not always name-formants at the same time in every position: in the Homok-hegy/útja name (homok ‘sand’ + hegy ‘mountain’/ útja ‘road’), for example, the lexeme út(ja) ‘(its) road’ has a nameformant function as it signifies the type of the place and simultaneously specifies the actual status of the name; hegy ‘mountain’, however, does not have such a role in this name structure (as the name says about the place only that it is a ‘road that leads to the place called Homok-hegy’); however, in the Homok/

Theoretical considerations in the linguistic analysis of toponyms | 9

hegy ‘sand/mountain’ name denoting a protrusion it signifies the type of place and specifies the name’s status. The category of affixal topoformants primarily includes toponymic derivatives. The former constraint, however, is valid in this case as well, i.e., not all formants present in the toponym structure carry a topoformant function as well, only those that play a role in the emergence of the name and its functioning as such. While, for example, the -d and -i affixes of the Besenyőd (besenyő ‘Pecheneg’ + -d topoformant) and the Petri (Péter anthroponym + -i topoformant) settlement names are considered topoformants, the -s suffix of the first constituent of Dióstelek only contributes to the creation of the syntagmatic relationship (dió-s ‘abundant in walnuts’/telek ‘lot, village’, where -s is an adjectival suffix expressing abundance in something), it has no role in expressing the nature of the structure as a name. Among lexical topoformants, we may distinguish between primary and secondary topoformants. Primary lexical topoformants are those geographical common noun components of toponyms that denote the type of the place such that this function matches the dictionary meaning of the geographical common noun used as a formant. For example, the falu ‘village’ geographical common noun is considered a primary topoformant as a component of settlement names (e.g., Újfalu ‘new/village’, Kisfalu ‘small/village’, Apátfalva ‘abbot’s/village’) as this lexeme in its common noun role, in terms of its dictionary meaning also carries in itself the ‘village, settlement’ semantic content as this is its meaning also in settlement names. Toponyms, however, may also include such formants which although indicate the type of the denoted place, the common noun, as a vocabulary element, has no geographical common noun meaning referring to the given type of place. In the early Old Hungarian Era the -ház(a) ‘house’ second constituent appeared in numerous settlement names, and it was certainly used as a settlement name formant, as contemporary name-users knew that Gyulaháza, Ivánkabánháza, Boldogasszonyháza, etc. were the types of names that they denoted a settlement, and they used the -ház(a) element (based on the pattern of already existing settlement names with the same structure) for the creation of new settlement names. This, however, does not mean that the word ház in itself (as an element of the common noun corpus) would have meant ‘village, settlement’ (as well) in the early Old Hungarian Era. Based on this, secondary lexical topoformants are those common nouns used in toponyms that assume the role of indicating the type of place as part of the specimens of the given toponym type (as a result of frequent use) without, however, this function fundamentally affecting the common noun meaning of

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this lexeme. The -egyháza ‘church’, -monostora ‘monastery’, -hida ‘bridge’, etc. name-constituents of settlement names are secondary settlement name formants, which means that in the settlement names of the Dorog/egyháza, Ellés/monostora, János/hida type they carry the special semantic meaning of ‘a village having a church or a monastery’, ‘a village with a bridge’ (and their typical name-patterns play a role in their spreading) but all this is not reflected in the common noun meaning of the lexemes (see Tóth 2008: 182–192; Bába 2016a: 32–44, 48–54, 2016b; Bátori 2017). (The semantic structure of the names mentioned may be described as follows: ‘village with a church/named Dorog’, ‘village with a monastery/belonging to a person named Ellés’, ‘village with a bridge/of a person called János ’). The topoformant function can always be interpreted in relation to a specific era, i.e., in a synchronic role. This is because the corpus of topoformants (as in the case of linguistic elements in general) is not constant in language but changes through time. As a result, linguistic elements cannot have a topoformant role in general but only with relevance to a specific time. But, as linguistic changes are rather slow in this respect, we can speak about the topoformants of longer eras in language history in consideration of the fact that language shows the ability and specific signs of change at any moment in time. This is well illustrated in the early Old Hungarian Era when there were major rearrangements in the corpus of Hungarian topoformants: the productivity of some increased, while that of others declined; while some elements’ role as a topoformant ended in relation to the fact that the given lexeme or affix was no longer used in language.

5 The functional-semantic basis of toponymgiving All place-naming acts are semantically conscious, which means that at the time of their creation all toponyms are motivated. The name-giving and name-using individual or community creates new place names by highlighting a feature or characteristic of the referent and adapting it to already existing name models. This presumption provides the justification for the analysis of the functions expressed by toponyms. At the time of their creation, all names are semantically transparent and descriptive, since the motifs and semantic categories serving as the basis of name-giving are present either directly or indirectly. The basic concept of functional-semantic analysis is the name-constituent. Those units of a toponym are considered to be name-constituents that express

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any semantic feature related to the referent at the time of the name-genesis or during the functioning of the name. We also need to stress, however, that a name-constituent function is not associated with each lexeme in the name. The name Mély-patak ‘deep/brook’ (as a hydronym), refers to a type of water that is deep, while the name structure of Mély-patak-fő ‘Mély-patak’s/spring’ expresses only two name-constituent functions, i.e., ‘the spring (1) of the brook named Mély-patak (2)’. Similarly, in the spring name Kék-kút ‘blue/spring’, two nameconstituents can be distinguished: its functional structure can be described as ‘such a spring (1) where the color of the water is blue (2)’. The Kékkút settlement name that was created from it, however, includes only one name-constituent as only one semantic feature is expressed in it, i.e., that the settlement ‘lies next to a spring called Kék-kút’. The above mentioned Sáros-patak, as a river name, is a two-constituent name-form, semantically it means ‘muddy/brook’; as a settlement name, however, Sárospatak has only one constituent and refers to ‘(a settlement) lying next to the brook named Sáros-patak’. In this approach, toponyms may have a maximum of one or two constituents and the semantic features expressed in them may be categorized into three large semantic groups. (We use the forward slash sign [ / ] for the separation of the name-constituents when it plays a role in the description of the semantic structure.) The name-constituents, on the one hand, can refer to the features of the given place. The descriptive function may include a lot of semantic features: it may express one of the characteristics of the place (its size, shape, color, etc.; e.g., Hosszú ‘long’, Nagy/erdő ‘great/forest’; Teknő ‘shell’, Görbe/ér ‘curved/ brook’; Kékes ‘[a mountain] of blue color’, Fekete/erdő ‘black/forest’); the relationship of the place to a certain external feature or circumstance (plant, animal, building, owner, etc.; e.g., Bükk ‘[a mountain] with beech trees’, Nádas/ patak ‘reed/brook’; Csókás ‘[a place] with jackdaws’, Sólyom/kő ‘falcon/rock’; Szentistván ‘[a village] with a church consecrated in honor of St. Stephen’, Malom/út ‘a road/leading to a mill’; Petri ‘[a village which] belongs to Peter’, Mihály/falva ‘Michael’s/village’, etc.); or the relationship of the place to another place (e.g., a settlement, river, hill, etc.; as in Bocsárd/pataka ‘the brook of/Bocsárd settlement’, Tó/rét ‘a field/lying next to a lake’, Sólyom-kő/völgye ‘the valley/next to a mountain called Sólyom-kő’, etc.).2 The name-constituent expressing the type of the name has a special position in toponyms among the different features (e.g., Patak ‘brook’, Lak ‘village’,

|| 2 Within the theoretical framework of CoCoTop this name component function is called a modifier (MOD).

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Kis/hegy ‘small/mountain’, Új/falu ‘new/village’). This function reflects the categorization activity of people and it is expressed with a geographical common noun lexeme. Due to its frequency and special role, this feature should be distinguished as a type-indicating function and perceived as an independent name-component function.3 Besides these examples, there are also name-constituents whose only function is to name the place itself. The designating function is expressed by such place names, which were borrowed by one language from another (Duna, Balaton), and those where the place names were used in another place name (Berettyó/újfalu ‘the place called Újfalu, which lies next to the river Berettyó’). Finally, we also need to consider the conventional function. Although it plays a peripheral role in place-naming as a whole, due to the great demand for place names in modern times it retains a frequent name-constituent function: it is customary in Hungary to name streets, for example, after famous people (Petőfi/utca ‘Petőfi/street’), flowers (Ibolya/utca ‘violet/street’), etc., but other types of toponyms might also get such names (e.g., Margit/híd ‘Margaret/ bridge’, Lenin/város ‘Lenin/city’). The Hungarian toponymic system is characterized by the fact that singlecomponent toponyms may be used in three types of semantic structures: in a toponym-type indicating (Type_i; e.g., the name of a hill Hegy ‘hill’), designating (Design.; e.g. the settlement name Nógrád borrowed from Slavic languages), and descriptive (Descr.; e.g. the settlement name Péteri ‘Peter’s) function. In twocomponent names these semantic contents join each other, typically creating a Descr. + Type_i (e.g., the name of a brook Kis-patak ‘small brook’) or Descr. + Design. structure (e.g., river name Kis-Duna ‘small Duna’). The Design. + Type_i. structure is in a peripheral position in the name system. Figure 1 below illustrates this relationship and also shows that in Hungarian the core of the toponymic system is made up by two-component names with a Descr. + Type_i. semantic structure. The semantic basis of name-giving, i.e., the functional-semantic categories are not linguistic, language-specific categories but refer to extra-linguistic relations. The place name created is influenced by perceived reality in all cases: the referents motivate the created toponyms in a sense that their inherent characteristic features (as reflected by people) are included as the basis of name-giving. In line with this, the functional-semantic categories expressed in toponyms are general conceptual categories of human thinking. Thus in comparing them we

|| 3 Within the theoretical framework of CoCoTop this name component function is called a classifier (CLASS).

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expect to see larger variance in the case of name-cultures exhibiting major cultural differences (for more details see Šrámek 1972–1973; Kiviniemi 1975, 1990; Hoffmann 1993: 30–31, 43–54, 1999; Tóth 2001: 131–163). Design. (Duna) Descr.

Descr.+Type_i.

Type_i.

(Hosszú ‘long’)

(Újfalu ‘new village’)

(Patak ‘brook’)

Descr.+Design. (Kis-Duna ‘little Duna’) Figure 1: Toponym structures in the Hungarian language.

6 The lexical-morphological basis of toponymgiving Of course, the toponymic system also has purely linguistic features: the lexicalmorphological models are naturally language specific. All those linguistic means of expression may be included here (the set of linguistic elements and the rules for their connections), which can be used to create place names in the language of a given time. The lexical-morphological models form a part of all languages, yet, in the use of the system of schemes and the connected set of elements there are also differences. For example, in the majority of languages the use of personal names as lexical categories is a frequent phenomenon in name-giving (mostly to express possession), but there can be major differences between languages in terms of the morphological structures and nameformation rules used to create place names from personal names. The lexical basis of name-giving (corresponding to a certain extent with the semantic base) also includes three categories. There can only be geographical common nouns expressing a type-indicating function on the lexical level and there can only be toponyms in a designating role. However, the function of indicating characteristic features (i.e., descriptive function) can be performed by several language elements (and several parts of speech): besides the categories called “feature words” in the summary (which can include even word structures along with the various categories of nouns, adjectives, and numerals), geographical common nouns and toponyms may also play such a role as seen in the examples already mentioned.

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Besides name-constituents (or more precisely within them), we need to distinguish an additional unit for the lexical-morphological study of names: the name elements. By name elements we mean the lexemes included in the name and the affixes performing a function in it. Thus in the previously mentioned Mély-patak-fő place name, we can distinguish two name-constituents and three name elements (mély ‘deep’ + patak ‘brook’/fő ‘spring’), and in the Kék-kút spring name there are two name-constituents and two name elements (kék ‘blue’/kút ‘spring’), while in the Kékkút settlement name the two name elements are featured only as a unit of a single name-constituent (kék+kút). The separation of name elements within name-constituents provides an opportunity for the fine-tuning of structural analysis (for more details see Šrámek 1972–1973; Hoffmann 1993: 31–32, 55–58, 1999).

7 Models of toponym creation These two components of name-giving, the semantic and lexical bases have to be complemented with the name-formation models in line with the description of the history of name-formation. As part of historical toponym analysis we study those linguistic schemes with which the new toponyms are created and the forces that shape the integration of the language elements into the names. Among the models of name-formation, the syntactic, morphological, and semantic models represent the basic categories of name-giving. Due to the syntactic models, in Hungarian such toponyms are usually created that have an attribute or, more rarely, an adverbial structure (e.g., Kis-hegy ‘small/hill’, Három-halom ‘three/hills’, Pap rétje ‘priest’s meadow’). Morphological name-formation is primarily manifested as the formation of toponyms with derivational suffixes (e.g., Bükkö-s: bükk ‘beech’ tree name + -s derivational suffix, Német-i: német ‘German’ ethnonym + -i derivational suffix). As for the semantic models, the three most frequent name-giving forms are metaphoric name-formation (e.g., Gatyaszár ‘trouser-leg shaped [street]’), metonymic nameformation (e.g., Kér tribal name > Kér settlement name, Veszprém personal name > Veszprém settlement name, bükk ‘beech’ tree name > Bükk name of hill, horvát ‘Croatian’ ethnonym > Horvát settlement name, Sáros-patak hydronym > Sárospatak settlement name, etc.), and semantic split (e.g., from the geographical common nouns patak ‘brook’, eresztvény ‘young forest’, bérc ‘mountain’, liget ‘grove’, etc. the place names Patak, Eresztvény, Bérc, Liget, etc.). The relevant links between the semantic and lexical bases of name-giving and the rules of name-formation can be illustrated as follows (Figure 2). The

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arrows pointing to the particular types of name-formation models indicate that the elements of all the categories of the lexical base may, in theory, participate in any name-formation process (for more details see Hoffmann 1993: 67–143, 1999; Tóth 2001: 165–230, 2008).

The semantic basis of name-giving Type-indicating

Descriptive

Designating

function

function

function

The lexical basis of name-giving

Geographical

“Feature”

common nouns

words

Toponyms

Models of name-formation Syntactic

Morphological

Semantic

models

models

models

Figure 2: Correlations within the typological description of toponyms.

8 Change models of toponyms The names thus created, however, are not constant either in terms of their lexical-morphological appearance, or in their semantic structure, since they also change in line with the alterations in linguistic and extra-linguistic conditions. The functional-semantic and lexical-morphological structure of the names are not equally sensitive to changes: the name-constituent functions may change very slowly, as opposed to the formal means of expression, the lexical-morphological types, which exhibit relatively fast change as linguistic phenomena. This

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“tension” results in the transformation of the name models and name-giving forms. Thus the description of change processes must form an integral part of the analysis of toponyms. As toponyms – similarly to common words – can be defined as the correlations between the name form and the meaning, their changes can also be grasped in the alterations of the lexical-morphological structure and – more rarely – in the related functional-semantic structure on the one hand, and the changes in the denotative meaning on the other. In line with this, complex changes may be seen that affect both the denotative meaning and structure of toponyms; changes in meaning that, besides the modification of the denotative meaning, leave the name structure unchanged; and the diverse spectrum of formal changes has the common feature that in the process of these alterations the name structure changes but the denotative meaning remains the same (for more details see Tóth 2008, 2011; Hoffmann at al. 2017: 237–253, 2018: 345–360).

9 An analytical model of toponym pairs and name integration The model used for the analysis of toponyms needs to be suitable not only for the description of name-systems of particular language-using communities (for example, for it to help in the description of the Hungarian toponyms in any era of the name-system) but it also has to extend to the study of the interactions of name-systems of different languages, including Hungarian and other languages that have come into contact with it. When developing such a model, we need to start out from the fact that in the case of a contact a referent may have several names used by communities of a different language, in which the relationships are usually not random but follow some kind of a pattern. Thus the toponym description model should also include a set of criteria which may be used to introduce the consequences of linguistic contacts and thus may help us in the interpretation of the correlations between name-systems of two (or possibly more) different language-using communities. Moreover, it is another important criterion regarding the model that it should be able to manage both contemporary and historical name-systems in this respect also; that is, it should also be universal in the interpretation of name-giving, name-using traditions of different languages and eras. The toponym description model described so far is suitable for the linguistic analysis of the toponym systems of both Hungarian and other languages but

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two further remarks should be added for the complete implementation of this objective. The addition should, on the one hand, concern the extension of the category system of linguistic tools with a role in the genesis of names as these are linguistically-bound elements that may have different features in various languages.4 It requires a more significant addition, however, that the examined name systems should not be explored only as systems existing besides one another but we should also consider the special relationship between them. These details of the analytical model are fundamentally based on the work of Rita Póczos (2010). In the process of toponym borrowing, the integration of loan words from one language into another goes through several stages. At one end of the scale we find those names that did not go through any changes in the process of borrowing and name-usage (e.g., Serbian-Croatian Bukvik > Hungarian Bukvik). At the other extreme of the integration process are those names that conformed both to the sound and name system of the receiving language, meaning that their phonological form and morphological structure were both modified by means of the adaptation (e.g., Hungarian Gerebice > German Kerpicvízǝ ‘Kerpic/ Wiese’). Between the two endpoints, there are many other types (and transitions), one of them being that the integrated element is adjusted to the sound system of the receiving language during name use (e.g., Serbian-Croatian Blata > Hungarian Baláta) while the other is when the morphological structure of the borrowed element is modified in the process of name use (e.g., German Pfarrer/tal > Hungarian Fartal/domb) (Póczos 2010: 145–147, but see also 2005: 140–142, 2006: 89).5

|| 4 In multiethnic areas the functional-semantic categories of name systems show relatively few differences as the extra-linguistic reality serving as the basis of name-giving is the same for both name communities, and the cognitive processing of these does not really differ either due to the similarities of cultures in contact with one another. On the level of name genesis, however, there may even be significant differences if the word formation systems of the languages used by the two name-giving communities differ from each other to a great extent (Póczos 2010: 105). This phenomenon, however, may appear differently from what is mentioned here, for example, in a colonial context (cf. Stolz and Warnke 2018; Stolz et al. 2016, 2018). 5 Berit Sandnes studied the different aspects of toponym borrowing and also found that toponyms borrowed from one language to the other are rarely taken over without any changes (i.e., they are rarely adopted as is) into the target language; the majority of them stand as witness to the adaptations occurring in the receiving language. Their types are defined and introduced in detail by Sandnes (2016: 544–549) as the following: a) phonological adaptation, b) morphological adaptation, c) syntactic adaptation, d) semantic adaptation, e) lexical adaptation, and f) she mentioned hybrid (mixed) names separately from the above.

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Such changes in the integrated elements clearly indicate their use in the receiving language. At the same time, there may also be names in the namesystem the name-givers and -users of which often belong to different ethnic groups but this difference either leaves no mark on the name form at all or it could only be discovered using the precision of dialectal phonetic transcription. This circumstance should definitely be considered (especially knowing the orthographic uncertainties after the emergence of writing) when in connection with medieval times we connect the toponymic data of written sources to a language (name-givers and name-users) and we attempt to provide ethnic reconstruction based on this. The coexistence of stocks of toponyms and their joint development over the centuries may result in such system-level interactions that follow unique patterns distinguishable on the level of typology and greatly contribute to the development of new members of toponymic systems. Thus, we may look at the issue of name pairs denoting the same referent but coming from communities speaking different languages as a phenomenon joining the two name-systems due to bilingualism. The relationships of toponym pairs with the same denotative meaning may be described within a framework which in line with the main principles of the model endorse the descriptive (i.e., synchronic) and the historical aspect separately. Rita Póczos (2010) developed the model for Hungarian-German bilingual name-systems, but as the suggested analytical framework consists of general categories, in theory it may be used for the introduction of any name-system emerging by means of contact of two languages. On the descriptive level of the analytical model, additional typical relationships may be identified between the members of the bilingual name pairs. The main categories are made up by phonological and semantic correspondence and their combinations, but the main categories themselves are also divided further into additional sub-groups depending on the extent to which the correspondence affects the structure of the name (partially or fully); see Figure 3. Besides all these, it is also possible that members of the name-pairs are not connected by any linguistic relationship beside the same referent, meaning that there is no correspondence between them in terms of linguistic tools.6

|| 6 German onomasticians distinguished name-pairs based on the same approach before, specifying a) phonologically bound name-pairs, b) semantically bound name-pairs, and c) free name-pairs (Eichler 1976: 139–141; Eichler and Šrámek 1984: 14–15).

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I. descriptive (synchronic) level 1. phonological correspondence fully: Hung. Puposka > Germ. Pupiska partially: Germ. Lange/tal > Hung. Langetáli/dűlő 2. semantic correspondence fully: Hung. Malom/árok > Germ. Mühl/graben partially: Hung. Séd ‘Brook’ > Germ. Mühl/bach 3. phonological and semantic correspondence Hung. Hosszú/hegy ‘Long/hill’ > Germ. Hosszi/berg 4. name pairs are not connected Hung. Lovas/hegy ‘Horse/hill’ > Germ. Frei/acker II. historical (diachronic) level 1. borrowing fully: Hung. Puposka > Germ. Pupiska partially: Hung. Szigeti/dűlő ‘Island/land’ > Germ. Sziget ~ + complementation: Germ. Langes/tal > Hung. Langetáli/dűlő 2. translation fully: Hung. Malom/árok > Germ. Mühl/graben partially: Hung. Kerek/erdő ‘Round/forest’ > Germ. Garten/wald ~ + complementation: Hung. Séd > Germ. Mühl/bach Figure 3: An analytical model of toponym pairs.

As the processes that create the name-pairs also work on the system level, we may categorize them in terms of their genesis (name-formation) with the help of the analytical model. The main categories are represented by borrowing and translation, which in turn also have additional sub-types depending on the extent to which the primary name-structure is affected by them: partial and complete borrowing, and partial and complete translation, as well as borrowing + complementation, translation + complementation may be distinguished in this sense (for a detailed introduction to the model and the specific types of the two levels see Póczos 2010: 180–203). Based on the study of today’s bilingual name-systems close to half of the name-pairs are characterized by complete semantic correspondence, but the fact that in older times this type of contact can rarely be found is definitely worth paying attention to. Such a difference may be explained either by the fact that at the time when charters were beginning to be written and in the subsequent time there was no bilingualism in the Carpathian Basin (which is not really likely) or the standards of contemporary charter writing did not require the recording of name-pairs showing lexical matching (and the notaries did not consider it necessary).

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In this respect I believe that polynymy could be a much more frequent phenomenon in early toponymic systems not only in this type but also in general than what might be indicated by sources. Of the names with the same meaning (the same denotative reference) the notary mostly recorded only one and there is a clear reason doing so. In the documents written mostly for legal purposes the toponyms were mentioned only for the purpose of precisely identifying the referents and in such a function the listing of variants would not have provided any further evidence, but to the contrary, could have resulted in more confusion (cf. Póczos 2010: 175–179, 204). We might see exceptions to this case only if the name of the place in question changed in the meantime and in such a situation (exactly in order to record the change) the writer of the charter considered it important to include both versions; e.g. 1391: Super Selniche que nunc vocatur Isipfalva (Gy. 4: 90).

10 Conclusions Thus this analytical framework now introduced in detail is suitable not only for the description of the stock of toponyms of a given language (in any era) but also that of the relationship of name systems in contact with each other. There is another important factor here as well in connection with the latter aspect. In all ages linguistic contacts are fundamentally determined by the prestige status of languages that come into contact with each other. Linguistic prestige certainly has an effect on name-usage as well, which manifests itself both in the direction of borrowing between the languages and the means of name integration. Moreover, linguistic prestige plays a crucial role in the written recording of names, that is, which of the names of a referent used simultaneously the notary preferred when recording it in the text. Stronger differences in prestige may also lead to the adaptation of name-systems. As a result of these considerations, I believe the issue of linguistic prestige should not be disregarded when we study the interactions of linguistic systems and the toponymic systems which form part of that study. Note: This work was carried out as part of the Research Group on Hungarian Language History and Toponomastics (University of Debrecen – Hungarian Academy of Sciences) as well as part of the project International Scientific Cooperation for Exploring the Toponymic Systems in the Carpathian Basin (ID: NRDI 128270, supported by the National Research, Development and Innovation Fund, Hungary).

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References Bába, Barbara. 2016a. Földrajzi köznevek térben és időben [Geographical common words in space and time]. A Magyar Névarchívum Kiadványai 39. Debrecen: Debreceni Egyetemi Kiadó. Bába, Barbara. 2016b. Lexical topoformants in toponyms. Acta Onomastica 55. 17–24. Barlow, Michael & Suzanne Kemmer. 2000. Introduction: A usage-based conception of language. In Michael Barlow & Suzanne Kemmer (eds.), Usage-based models of language, vii–xxviii. Stanford, CA: CSLI Publications. Bátori, István. 2017. Településnév-formánsok a régiségben [Settlement name formants in historical times]. Helynévtörténeti Tanulmányok 13. 61–90. Bényei, Ágnes. 2012. Helynévképzés a magyarban [Toponym formation in Hungarian]. A Magyar Névarchívum Kiadványai 26. Debrecen: Debreceni Egyetemi Kiadó. Bybee, Joan L. 2006. From usage to grammar: The mind’s response to repetition. Language 82. 711–733. Eichler, Ernst. 1976. Sprachkontakte im Lichte der Onomastik. Onoma 20. 128–141. Eichler, Ernst & Rudolf Šrámek. 1984. Thesen zur toponymischen Integration. In Ernst Michael Christoph, Ernst Eichler, Karlheinz Hengst & Rudolf Šrámek (eds.), Sprachkontakt im Wortschatz, 9–18. Leipzig: Wissenschaftliche Beiträge der Karl-Marx-Universität Leipzig. Gy. = Györffy, György. 1963–1998. Az Árpád-kori Magyarország történeti földrajza I–IV. [Historical geography of Hungary in the age of the Árpád Dynasty]. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó. Hoffmann, István. 1993. Helynevek nyelvi elemzése [The linguistic analysis of toponyms]. Debrecen: Debreceni Egyetem Magyar Nyelvtudományi Tanszék. Second edition: Budapest: Tinta Kiadó, 2007. Hoffmann, István. 1999. A helynevek rendszerének nyelvi leírásához [Supplement to the linguistic description of the system of toponyms]. Magyar Nyelvjárások 37. 207–216. Hoffmann, István. 2012. Funkcionális nyelvészet és helynévkutatás [Functional linguistics and toponomastics]. Magyar Nyelvjárások 50. 9–26. Hoffmann, István, Anita Rácz & Valéria Tóth. 2017. History of Hungarian toponyms. Hamburg: Buske. Hoffmann, István, Anita Rácz & Valéria Tóth. 2018. Régi magyar helynévadás. A korai ómagyar kor helynevei mint a magyar nyelvtörténet forrásai [Old Hungarian toponym-giving. Old Hungarian toponyms as sources of the Hungarian language history]. Budapest: Gondolat Kiadó. Hoffmann, István & Valéria Tóth. 2018a. Theoretical issues in toponym typology. Onomastica Uralica 12. 7–29. Hoffmann, István & Valéria Tóth. 2018b. Theoretical issues in toponym typology. Mitteilungen der Österreichischen Geographischen Gesellschaft/Annals of the Austrian Geographical Society 160. 281–302. Kiviniemi, Eero. 1975. Paikannimien rakennetyypeistä [On structural types of place-names]. Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura. Kiviniemi, Eero. 1990. Perustietoa paikannimistä [Place names basics]. Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura. Ladányi, Mária & Gábor Tolcsvai Nagy. 2008. Funkcionális nyelvészet [Functional linguistics]. Általános Nyelvészeti Tanulmányok 22. 17–58.

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Póczos, Rita. 2005. Nyelvtörténeti szempontok az Árpád-kor etnikai vizsgálatához [Language historical aspects in the ethnic reconstruction of the Árpád dynasty period]. Névtani Értesítő 27. 136–143. Póczos, Rita. 2006. Az Árpád-kori Borsod vármegye lakosságának nyelvi-etnikai összetételéhez [Linguistic and ethnic composition of the inhabitants of Borsod county in the Árpád dynasty period]. Helynévtörténeti Tanulmányok 2. 87–105. Póczos, Rita. 2010. Nyelvi érintkezés és a helynévrendszerek kölcsönhatása [Linguistic contact and the interactions of toponymic systems]. A Magyar Névarchívum Kiadványai 18. Debrecen: Debreceni Egyetemi Kiadó. Reszegi, Katalin. 2015. A névközösség fogalmához. Névközösségek napjainkban és a régiségben [Additions to the concept of name community. Name communities today and in historical times]. Helynévtörténeti Tanulmányok 11. 165–176. Sandnes, Berit. 2016. Names and language contact. In Carole Hough (ed.), The Oxford handbook of names and naming, 540–553. Oxford: Oxford University Press. J. Soltész, Katalin 1979. A tulajdonnév funkciója és jelentése [The functions and meaning of proper names]. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó. Šrámek, Rudolf. 1972–1973. Zum Begriff „Modell” und „System” in der Toponomastik. Onoma 17. 55–75. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke 2018. System- und diskurslinguistische Einblicke in die vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik: Eine gemeinsame Einführung. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik: Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 1–75. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas, Ingo H. Warnke & Nataliya Levkovych. 2016. Colonial place names in comparative perspective. Beiträge zur Namenforschung 51(3/4). 279–355. Stolz, Thomas, Ingo H. Warnke & Nataliya Levkovych. 2018. Anthroponymic constituents of colonial toponyms: A comparison of Netherlands New Guinea and Portuguese Timor (as of 1955). Onomastica Uralica 12. 189–210. Tolcsvai Nagy, Gábor. 2017a. Bevezetés [Introduction.] In Gábor Tolcsvai Nagy (ed.), Osiris Nyelvtan, 23–71. Budapest: Osiris Kiadó. Tolcsvai Nagy, Gábor. 2017b. A nyelv emberi lényege. A magyarázat látóköralkotó változatai a nyelvtudományban [The human essence of language. Horizon-creating versions of explanations in linguistics]. In Gábor Tolcsvai Nagy (ed.), Megértés és megértetés. A magyarázat a bölcsészettudományokban, 38–62. A humán tudományok alapkérdései 1. Budapest: Gondolat Kiadó. Tóth, Valéria. 2001. Névrendszertani vizsgálatok a korai ómagyar korban [Onomatosystematical analyses in the Early Old Hungarian Era]. A Magyar Névarchívum Kiadványai 6. Debrecen: Debreceni Egyetem Magyar Nyelvtudományi Tanszék. Tóth, Valéria. 2008. Településnevek változástipológiája [Change typology of settlement names]. A Magyar Névarchívum Kiadványai 14. Debrecen: Debreceni Egyetem Magyar Nyelvtudományi Tanszéke. Tóth, Valéria. 2011. Change typology of toponyms. Acta Onomastica 52. 179–189. Van Langendonck, Willy & Mark Van de Velde. 2016. Names and grammar. In Carole Hough (ed.), The Oxford handbook of names and naming, 17–38. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Part II: CoCoTop Studies

Sandra Herling

Spanish and French colonial toponyms in the territory of present-day USA (16th to 18th century) Abstract: The Spanish and French colonial empires extended over regions in Africa, Asia and America. Often France and Spain conquered the same territories – this is also the case with North America. This contribution examines the naming of both colonial powers in the period from the 16th to the 18th century. The focus will be on the differences and similarities of colonial toponyms. The constructions as well as the motivations of naming will be examined in detail. Keywords: Spanish colonialism, French colonialism, USA, colonial place names, comparative perspective

1 Introduction Spanish and French colonialisms began in the 15th and 16th centuries, respectively, and included conquests on the continents of America, Africa and Asia. As Spain and France often claimed power over the same territories, a competition arose between the two states. An example would be the western part of the Caribbean island of Hispaniola, which Spain was forced to cede to France at the end of the 17th century. In North America the situation was similar: Hernán de Soto discovered the Mississippi area on behalf of the Spanish crown in the middle of the 16th century. However, in the 17th century France showed interest in the area, too, and started to conquer it. Even though colonialism is above all a political and economic phenomenon, it is also a linguistic one. Louis-Jean Calvet (2002: 79) points out that cultural and linguistic factors can contribute significantly to the emergence and maintenance of colonialism. An important component in the colonization process is the naming of a conquered space. Calvet (2002: 80) remarks: “Tout commence par la nomination” [everything begins with the naming (my translation)]. In view of this, the aim of this article is to examine the naming of geographical

|| Sandra Herling, University of Siegen, Language and Linguistics: Romance Languages, AdolfReichwein-Str. 2, 57076 Siegen, Germany. E-mail: [email protected] https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-003

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objects during the colonial period. The focus will be on Spanish and French colonial toponyms in the territory of today’s USA. This area is especially suitable for this study because the two colonial powers established their respective dominions over it at different times. A look at the current research situation in Romance Studies shows that the topic of colonial toponymy in relation to the territory of present-day USA has not been taken into account in German-language Romance Studies apart from the study by Herling (2019) on colonial place names in Florida and California. However, there are works in English-language Romance studies such as Pascale Smorag’s (2006) survey of Spanish colonial names. Also worth mentioning are works that deal with Spanish toponyms in the USA synchronously but also adopt a diachronic perspective such as Marucci and Marucci (2005) or Pearce (1961). With regard to the French language there is an overview essay by Lapierre (2003) on colonial and post-colonial place names. Lapierre (2007) also examines the names of French settlers in Florida. Smorag (2016), on the other hand, reflects upon colonial microtoponyms in the city of New Orleans. It is worth mentioning that the colonial toponymy of the USA was also taken into account outside Romance studies: For example, Levkovych (2018) investigated Russian colonial toponyms in Alaska. Regarding Romance Studies it can be stated that a contrastive study of Spanish and French colonial toponyms in the USA does not exist until now. Considering that, the present contribution’s aim is to approach this topic and to discuss various questions: What construction patterns do Spanish colonial toponyms have in comparison to French ones? What was the decisive motivation behind the naming of a geographical object? Are there any differences or similarities in French and Spanish naming practice? First of all, however, we will give a brief overview of the colonial past and the history of discovery of the USA in order to outline the historical and political framework conditions.

2 Historical overview The French colonial period in America began in 1534 when the Breton sailor Jacques Cartier reached the mouth of the St. Lawrence River in present-day Canada. On his second voyage in May 1535, he finally took possession of further areas for the French crown. The colonial conquest of territories also manifested linguistically and is, for instance, reflected in the toponym Montréal (< mont royal ‘royal mountain’). Naming this conquered place in honor of the French

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King Cartier also demonstrated the status of France as a major colonial power. Nevertheless, a permanent colonization of Canada did not take place until 1608 when Champlain founded Québec (Casali and Cadet 2015: 16–17). The first attempts to colonize the territory of today’s USA date back to 1562, when it became necessary to find an area in which Huguenot emigrants were able to practice their religion freely. In 1564 about 600 Frenchmen settled in Florida. However, the French settlement was destroyed by the Spanish, who laid the foundation for the city of San Agustín (Saint Augustine) in northern Florida in 1565. In the end, all attempts by the French to settle in Florida failed, so that at the end of the 16th century the French era in Florida came to an end (Mathieu 2001: 38). In the north of the already established colony (present-day Canada) the French crown was also confronted with the resistance of other colonial powers. In the 17th century the colonial interests of England forced the French to conquer territories further south. The Jesuit Father Jacques Marquette and the Ranger Louis Joliet were the first to reach the Mississippi River in 1673. Eventually, in 1682 Robert Cavelier de La Salle took possession of the area around the Mississippi for the French royal family. Numerous forts were built from the Great Lakes to the mouth of the Mississippi River to fortify and defend the area. The first settlement on the Gulf coast grew up in 1699. In 1711 Mobile (today’s Alabama) received the status of capital of the colonial area. As such, it was finally replaced by the city of Nouvelle Orléans (New Orleans), which was founded in 1718, and promoted to the status of capital of the colony in 1722. It can be noted that the French colonial empire in North America (called NouvelleFrance) had its largest extension at the beginning of the 18th century: the territory stretched from Newfoundland over the Great Lakes and the Mississippi Valley to the Gulf Coast (Reinhard 2016: 496–497, Casali and Cadet 2015: 32–33). From 1492, the Spanish Crown first concentrated on colonizing the Caribbean. At the beginning of the 16th century Spain’s interest finally turned to the American mainland. In 1513 Juan Ponce de León circumnavigated the coasts of Florida and occupied the area for Spain (cf. Reinhard 2016: 107). Finally, in the years 1539–1542 the conquistador Hernán de Soto discovered the Mississippi valley. During the 16th century further regions of North America fell under Spanish influence until the colonial empire eventually included present-day Florida, the New England states, the Mississippi area and further states in the west of the USA such as Texas, California, Iowa, North Dakota, South Dakota and Nebraska. The first Spanish settlements were established in 1598 in Santa Fe (New Mexico). In the 18th century, mission stations were founded, which developed into the metropolises of San Francisco, San Diego and Los Angeles.

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In the east, San Miguel de Guadalupe (present-day Carolina states) was founded in 1521 (cf. Knauer 2012: 117, Noll 2001: 99, López Morales 2008: 31, Herling 2019: 228). As the historical overview reveals, France and Spain were often competitors in the struggle for colonial territory. In 1513, the Spanish were the first Europeans to discover present-day Florida. The French attempts to colonize the region (as from 1562) failed, so that Florida remained under Spanish influence. Also the Mississippi area was first taken over by the Spanish crown (1539–1542, Hernán de Soto), but a century later, in 1682, the French conquered the area. However, the French crown finally lost its colonial empire on the territory of present-day USA. In the Peace of Paris (1762), the western part of the colony fell to Spain and the eastern part to Great Britain. In 1800, Spain returned the area to France, but Napoleon I sold it to the United States three years later for 15 million dollars. As a result, the French colonial era on the territory of today’s USA came to an end (Casali and Cadet 2015: 41). The Spanish crown, too, had to cope with some territorial losses during the 19th century: In 1819 Florida fell to the United States; in 1821 Texas became part of Mexico.

3 Database Various sources such as colonial maps, but also contemporary travel and discovery reports are suitable as a database for the research on colonial toponyms. Both sources have advantages, but also disadvantages. Colonial maps offer a detailed insight into the toponymy of coastal areas. This is due to the fact that they were often created for the services of the Navy. Travelogues by conquerors are suitable for several reasons: On the one hand, they often contain metaonymic reflections that provide information about the motivations for naming. On the other hand, they include other toponyms such as names of gorges or valleys, which are often not registered on colonial maps. The following analysis is based on several maps: A map from 1572, entitled Mapa del Golfo y costa de la Nueva España: desde el Río de Panuco hasta el cabo de Santa Elena, reflects an early stage of colonial naming practice. In the 18th century there was a particular focus on colonial cartography. Therefore, it is not surprising that numerous maps from this period are available. For the present analysis we evaluated the map created by the priest and cartographer José Antonio Alzate y Ramírez in 1768, which shows the Spanish colonial empire west of the Mississippi Valley up to California. The peculiarity of the map is that Texas is presented as a Spanish colony for the first time. The colonial area occupied

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by France in the 18th century, which stretched from the Mississippi estuary to the Canadian border, is depicted on the map made by the royal cartographer Tomás López (1762). The map designed for the services of the Royal Armada in 1769 presents the coasts of Louisiana and Florida. In addition, another map by Tomás López, dated 1755, shows the colonial territory of Florida. A map from 1803 made for the Spanish navy also provides insight into the toponymy of the Gulf of Mexico including Florida. Finally, a map created by Tomás López in 1796 shows the discovery of Alaska. As already mentioned, travelogues by the discoverers are useful sources for the investigation of colonial toponyms, too, as they often describe the moment of naming and thus offer important insights into the colonial naming practice. The present analysis takes into account the diary of Miguel Costansó. Costansó was a Catalan cartographer who participated in the 1769–1770 discovery expedition to California led by Gaspar de Portolá (cf. Herling 2019). In 1783 the Benedictine monk Iñigo Abbad y Lasierra discribed the discovery of California from both a geographical and a historical point of view. Nevertheless, his work remained unpublished until the 20th century. His depictions, however, provide valuable insights into the naming practice of Spanish colonizers. Colonial maps and travel reports have also been evaluated with respect to the French colonial empire. The attempt to colonize Florida is documented in Laudonnière’s travel report from 1586. The report includes the experiences of three different Huguenot colonizers: the journeys of René Goulaine Laudonnière in 1562 and 1564, the travels of Jean Ribault in 1565 and finally the trips of Dominique de Gourgues, which he began in 1567. The earliest map of the French colonial territory in present-day USA was designed by Pierre Duval in 1677 and shows the area La Floride Françoise [French Florida]. One of the most important cartographers of the French crown was Jacques-Nicolas Bellin. Several of his cartographic works from the 18th century have been consulted in the context of this study: A map from 1744 depicting the coasts of Florida at the time of the Huguenot discovery, another map from the same year shows the areas discovered in Louisiana and the Mississippi region. The course of the Mississippi River is also depicted on the map by Guillaume Deslisle from 1718. Furthermore, the cartographic work of Joutel (1713) and JeanBaptiste Nolin (1756) present the area of French Louisiana.

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4 Spanish and French colonial toponyms 4.1 Spanish colonial toponyms 4.1.1 Constructions The inventory, based on the discoverer’s report and the maps, comprises a total of 580 names (types) which designate various geographical objects such as rivers, gorges, bays, headlands, harbors, sandbanks, islands, capes, rocks, mountains, valleys and settlements. The following analysis examines the structure of colonial toponyms (cf. Stolz and Warnke 2018). A total of five types of formation can be identified, which are described below using examples: – Type A: simplex Examples: San Bonifacio, Santa Teresa, Burgos Type A includes toponyms that consist of only one component such as Burgos. However, a number of toponyms are based on a hagionym, which is composed morphologically of two elements (title San/Santa ‘saint’ and anthroponym), but can therefore be understood as one anthroponymic unit or rather a simplex. – Type B: determiner + noun Example: El Paso [{El}Det {Paso}Noun]Top/El ‘the’ Paso ‘way’ Type B includes toponyms based on a nominal phrase consisting of a determiner and a noun. Other examples are Las Puentes ‘the bridges’, Los Pedernales ‘the flints’, La Merced ‘the mercy’. – Type C: noun + adjective Example: Río Blanco [{Río}Noun {Blanco}Adj]Top/Río ‘river’ Blanco ‘white’ Type C denotes toponyms that consist of a noun and an adjective corresponding in gender and number. Other examples of this type of formation are Cañada Angosta ‘narrow canyon’, Río Azul ‘blue river’, Punta Larga ‘large point’. – Type D: noun + noun Example: Cañada San Diego [{Cañada}Noun {San Diego}NP]Top/Cañada ‘canyon’ San Diego ‘Saint Diego’ This category includes names that show a juxtaposition of two nominal units without a prepositional link. In the above example, the appellative cañada is juxtaposed with the second nominal component, the hagionym. Further examples for type D are Río San Sebastián ‘river Saint Sebastian’, Río Ratones ‘river of rats’, Isla Tortuga ‘turtle island’.

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– Type E: Nouns + preposition (+determiner) + noun (+ adjective) Examples: Arroyo del Carrizal [{Arroyo}Noun {del}Prep/Det {Carrizal}Noun]Top/Arroyo ‘brook’ del ‘of’ Carrizal ‘reeds’ Isla de Agua Verde [{Isla}Noun {de}Prep {Agua}Noun {Verde}Adj]Top/Isla ‘island’ de ‘of’ Agua Verde ‘green water’ Type E comprises toponyms consisting of a noun, a preposition (in some instances combined with an article) and another noun, which is either an appellative or an anthroponym/hagionym and can additionally be modified by an adjective. The following toponyms can serve as examples: Bahía de San Augustín ‘Bay of Saint Augustine’, Isla de Pájaros ‘birds island’, Río de los Temblores ‘river of earthquakes’, Cayos de Agua Dulce ‘cay of sweet water’, Ranchería de Casas Grandes ‘ranch of big houses’. From a semantic perspective, it is worth noting that the leftmost noun in the construction types C, D and E refers to a geographical object. For example, the noun isla in the toponym Isla de Mosquitos indicates indeed an island. In the case of Río de los Temblores, a river (río = Spanish ‘river’) is designated. This type of construction is also documented in German colonialism. Examples are Adlerbucht (Pacific Ocean) or Fledermausinsel (Cameroon) (cf. Stolz and Warnke 2015: 149, 151). Stolz and Warnke refer to nouns related to a geographical object as “geographical classifiers” (Stolz and Warnke 2015: 138). Due to their high occurrence, one can assume a “proto-typical pattern of German colonial toponymy” (Stolz and Warnke 2015: 138). The data of our analysis confirm this statement, because 92.2% (411 toponyms) of the Spanish toponyms in the USA have a geo-classifier. We can identify a total of 39 different geo-classifiers used by Spanish colonizers in the discovery of present-day USA: Aguage ‘waterhole’, Archiépelago ‘archipelago’, Arroio ‘brook’, Arroiada ‘brook valley’, Baia/Bahía ‘bay’, Bajo ‘sandbank’, Banco ‘sandbank’, Barra ‘sandbank’, Boca ‘mouth’, Cabo ‘cape’, Cañada ‘ravine’, Canal ‘channel’, Cayo ‘flat, sandy island’, Cerro ‘hill’, Ensenada ‘bay’, Esteros ‘swamps’, Fuerte ‘fort’, Golfo ‘gulf’, Hoia ‘pit, hollow’, Isla ‘island’, Islote ‘small island’, Laguna ‘lagoon’, Lago ‘lake’, Llano ‘plain’, Mar ‘sea’, Mesas ‘plateau’, Montes ‘mountains’, Morro ‘hill’, Playa ‘beach’, Pueblo ‘village’, Puerto ‘port’, Punta ‘headland’, Ranchería ‘small village’, Real ‘camp’, Rincón ‘corner’, Río ‘river’, Serranías ‘mountain country’, Sierra ‘mountain range’, Valle ‘valley’, Villa ‘city’, Volcán ‘volcano’.

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The peculiarity of the geo-classifiers consists first of all in the fact that oikonyms and anoikonyms are treated differently. While settlements often receive a name without a classifier (like e.g. San Diego, San Augustín, San Francisco), the vast majority of anoikonyms have a classifier such as Banco del Norte ‘sandbank of the north’, Isla de Santa Anastasia ‘island of Saint Anastasia’ (see also Stolz and Warnke 2017). But it should be added that toponyms in the colonial motherland have classifiers, too, such as Río ‘river’ or Bahía ‘bay’ (cf. Herling 2019: 233). A particularity, however, is that some classifiers were used exclusively in a colonial context: The geo-classifier Cayo originated in the colonial period and was only used for the corresponding geographical object, namely a shallow and sandy island in the Caribbean. Regarding the territory of present-day USA there is another classifier, Cañada, which describes a small gorge and was only used in the colonial territory. In Spain itself, gorges (such as in the Canary Islands) are called Barranco – while Cañada is not documented (cf. Herling 2019: 233).

4.1.2 Motivations for naming In principle, it is possible to distinguish between descriptive and non-descriptive toponyms (Hough 2016: 92). In the colonial period, non-descriptive names that fulfilled a commemorative function played an important role (cf. Hough 2016: 92). As inspiration for the naming may serve, for example, discoverers, conquerors, saints or members of the royal family (cf. Hough 2016: 92). The structural peculiarity of these commemorative names is their anthroponymic component. The prototype pattern of colonial toponyms mentioned above can be further specified: Stolz et al. (2016) were able to show two aspects in their comparative study: First, that colonial toponyms have a geo-classifier and second, that this classifier is often combined with an anthroponym such as Philippeville (Algeria), Port Louis (Guadeloupe), Cap Saint Jacques (Indochina) (cf. Stolz et al. 2016: 304–305). Regarding Spanish colonialism, two groups of toponyms with anthroponymic components can be distinguished: 1) toponyms based on only one anthroponym such as San Carlos, Santa Ana, San Fernando, San Bernabé; 2) toponyms consisting of a geo-classifier and an anthroponym – as the following examples illustrate: Valle de Santa Catalina, Río de San Lorenzo, Cañada de San Francisco, Sierra de Santa María.

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Although the data confirm the prototypical pattern (classifier + anthroponym) with respect to Spanish colonialism, there is another remarkable feature, as in the majority of cases the anthroponymic component consists of a male or female hagionym. The following examples can be mentioned: Valle de San Miguel, Bahía de San Serafino, Bahía de San Andrés, Barra de San Juan, Bahía de Santa Rosa, Río de Santa Catalina, Canal de Santa Rosa, Punta de Santa Lucia, Isla de Santa Anastasia. The use of hagionym seems to have been a typical feature of Spanish colonial naming practice. In this respect, Stolz et al. (2016: 318) point out the following aspect: Like hundreds of other TOPs which are created during the Spanish colonial dominion the ANTH-component refers to a Catholic saint […]. The existence of other patterns notwithstanding, it can be said that religious references are characteristic of a sizable segment of the Spanish colonial toponomasticon.

In contrast, the names of explorers do not play a major role. A bay on the western coast of Florida was named Bahía de Juan Ponce after the Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de León, who was the first to circumnavigate the coasts of Florida in 1513. In the Gulf of Mexico, a small island received the name Cayo Vizcayno. The toponym commemorates Sebastián Vizcaíno, who travelled Mexico and California in the name of the Spanish crown at the end of the 16th century. The toponym Aguage del Padre Gomez evokes a priest who took part in the expedition to Portolá and discovered a water hole along the way. It is surprising that the names of members of the royal family were not applied. In other geographical areas, such as the Caribbean, there are toponyms that are reminiscent of the royal house: Christopher Columbus named two of the first islands he discovered in 1492 after the then royal couple: Isla Fernandina and Isla Isabela (see Gužauskytė 2014: 170). Even if there are no toponyms to be found, that go back to names of representatives of the royal house, the data document toponyms do present the dynastic context semantically like e.g. in the case of Río de los Reyes ‘river of the kings’. In addition, the corpus includes several toponyms, which fulfill a commemorative function, but do not convey this via an anthroponym but a toponym. These are places that are named after Spanish places. For example, Spanish explorers named a settlement in California Burgos. It can be assumed that the name refers to the city of Burgos in Spain. Similar cases are Santander, Río de Medina or Sevilleta (a diminutive of Seville). According to Carole Hough (2016: 92), the category of non-descriptive names includes “incident names” (cf. Hough 2016: 92) also called event names. This comprises toponyms relating to a specific event. The toponym Santa Barba-

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ra (California), for example, refers to the arrival of the Spanish explorers on the day of Saint Barbara (cf. Hough 2016: 92). On July 20, 1779, the name day of the Roman Catholic saint Margarita, the expedition of Gaspar de Portolá reached a gorge which from then on bears the name Santa Margarita (cf. Diary of Costansó, 170, see also Herling 2019: 234). Concerning the categorization, a distinction should be made between different types of event names: On the one hand, there are names that refer to an event and at the same time fulfill a commemorative function. This is the case with the above examples Santa Barbara and Santa Margarita. The event – such as the discovery – takes place on the name day. The discovered place is then named in honor of this saint. Names with an exclusively commemorative function are, for example, Bahía de Juan Ponce and Aguage del Padre Gomez, because they were only given in memory of certain persons (cf. Herling 2019: 235). On the other hand, there are event names that only reflect an experience during the discovery. However, these names do not have a commemorative function. The evaluation of travel and discovery reports (such as Miguel Costansó’s diary) is valuable in this context, since they often contain meta-linguistic information regarding the naming. For example, the participants of the Portolá expedition observed how missionaries baptized two dying people. As a result, the nearby gorge was named Cañada del Bautismo ‘Gorge of Baptism’: Junto al real havía una ranchería corta de gentiles, cuia gente estuvo con nosotros lo más del día, mui alegre y apasible. Los reverendos padres misioneros bautisaron en este parage á dos parbulos de estos gentiles que se estaban muriendo, por cuio motibo se le puso el nombre de la Cañada del Bautismo. (Costansó 1911: 172) [Near the camp there was a small Indian village; the people remained with us, very happy and contented, during the greater part of the day. At this place the missionary fathers baptized two children of these natives that were dying, for which reason we gave the place the name of the Cañada del Bautismo.] (Costansó 1911: 173)

The name of the village La Carpintería ‘joinery’ derives from the fact that when expedition members arrived in the village, they discovered locals who were building a canoe: Los soldados llamaron á este pueblo de La Carpintería, porque estaban a la sazón construiendo una canoa. (Costansó 1911: 198) [The soldiers called this town Pueblo de la Carpintería, because at this time [the natives] were constructing a canoe.] (Costansó 1911: 199)

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On July 10, 1769, the Portolá expedition witnessed a violent earthquake and named the nearby river Rio de los Temblores ‘river of trembling’. The diary describes this experience as follows: Experimentamos en este parage un horroroso terremoto que repitió quatro vezes en el dia [...] Pusimosle nombre al sitio de Rio de los Temblores. (Costansó 1911: 176) [At this place we experienced a terrible earthquake, which was repeated four times during the day. [...] To this place we gave the name of Río de los Temblores.] (Costansó 1911: 177)

On August 27, 1769 a sword was robbed from the belt of a Spanish soldier. Locals witnessed the incident and pursued the thief. This occurrence was the reason for the denomination of the place as Ranchería de la Espada (‘small village of the sword’): Un soldado perdió en este parage su espada que se dejó urtar de la cinta, bien que la recobró después porque los mismos indios que havian visto la acción, corrieron en pos del ladrón que havía cometido el hurto, y por esta razón le quedó á la ranchería el nombre de La Espada. A la Ranchería de la Espada 2 leguas. De San Diego 96 leguas. (Costansó 1911: 210) [At this place a soldier lost his sword; he allowed it to be stolen from his belt, but he afterwards recovered it as the Indians who had seen the act ran after the thief who had committed the robbery. For this reason the name of Ranchería de la Espada stuck to the village. To the Bancheria de la Espada, 2 leagues. From San Diego, 96 leagues.] (Costansó 1911: 211)

The diary entry of September 10, 1769 describes an encounter with Indians: Sentamos el real en lo alto de la cañada que recibió nombre del Osito, por que unos indios serranos que bajaron a visitarnos trahían consigo un cachorro de la especie dicha que estaban amansando, y nos ofrecieron serian hasta sesenta hombres. (Costansó 1911: 224) [We pitched our camp in the upper part of the canyon. This was named La Cañada del Osito because some Indians from the mountains, who carne down to visit us, brought with them a bear cub they were taming and oífered it to us. There must have been as many as sixty men (in the party).] (Costansó 1911: 225)

As already mentioned above, some of the colonial toponyms can be assigned to the category of descriptive names. These include names that refer, for example, to a geographical feature such as the color of a rock or a river, climatic conditions such as the aridity of an area, or endemic animals and plants. Consequently, these are names that describe the characteristics of the discovered space (cf. Herling 2019: 236).

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Costansó’s diary also provides indications of the motivation for the descriptive names. For example, the presence of fish motivated the explorers to call the water ‘river of trout’: en algunas pozas ó remansos tenía bastante pescado de truchas y otra especie. Pusimosle nombre al sitio de Río de las Truchas. (Costansó 1911: 230) [a considerable number of trout, and other species of fish. We gave the place the name of Río de las Truchas.] (Costansó 1911: 231)

The color or geomorphological composition of an object also played a decisive role in its naming. The toponym Real Blanco [White Camp] can be explained by the white color of the area: la tierra era blanquiesa en este parage de donde le vino el nombre de Real Blanco. (Costansó 1911: 236) [The Land at this place was of a whitish color, whence came its name of Real Campo.] (Costansó 1911: 237)

The narrowness of a valley is reflected in the name Cañada Angosta: una cañada mui angosta ceñida de altisimos cerros. […]. El parage tubo nombre de la Cañada Angosta. (Costansó 1911: 218) [a very narro canyon, surrounded by very high hills. […]. The place named Cañada Angosta.] (Costansó 1911: 219).

All in all, the following motives for the colonial naming can be determined: Non-descriptive names – Names of a person in a colonial context: Bahía de Juan Ponce (‘Bay of Juan Ponce’), Cayo Vizcayno (‘shallow, sandy island of Vizcayno’) – Transferred toponyms: Santander, Burgos, Río de Medina, Sevilleta – Dynastic context: Puerto del Marqués ‘port of the margrave’, Punta de los Reyes ‘headland of the kings’, Puerto del Principe ‘port of the prince’ – Name of a saint: Río de San Antonio ‘river of Saint Anthony’, Laguna de San Martín ‘lagoon of Saint Martin’, Santa Ana, San Nicolás – Religious context: Bahía de la Concepción ‘bay of the conception’, Bahía de los Angeles ‘bay of the angels’, Río de la Asunción ‘river of the assumption’, Bahía de Espiritu Santo ‘bay of the Holy Spirit’, Los Martires ‘the Martyrs’ – Events: Ranchería de la Espada ‘small village of the sword’, Cañada del Bautismo ‘ravine of baptism’, Río de los Temblores ‘river of trembling’

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Descriptive names – Geomorphological characteristics: Laguna Larga ‘long lagoon’, Arroio Corto ‘short river’, Laguna Redonda ‘round lagoon’, Cañada Angosta ‘narrow gorge’, Río Hondo ‘deep river’, Punta de los Pedernales ‘point of flint’, Cabo de Arena ‘cape of sand’, Bahía Amarilla ‘yellow bay’, Río Chocolate ‘chocolate colored river’, Río blanco ‘white river’, Río Colorado ‘colored river’, Isla de Agua Verde ‘island of green water’, Arroiada Honda ‘deep stream gorge’, Cayo de Piedras ‘flat island of stones’ – Climatic conditions: Cañada Seca ‘dry gorge’, Río Seco ‘dry river’ – Fauna: Isla del Tiburón ‘island of the shark’, Río de Patos ‘duck river’, Baxo de la Tortuga ‘turtle sandbank’, Los Pelicanos ‘the pelicans’, Cañada de los Osos ‘bear gorge’, Río de las Truchas ‘trout river’, Ranchería de las Pulgas ‘small village of fleas’, Rincón de las Almejas ‘corner of shells’, Río de Mosquitos ‘river of mosquitoes’, Golfo de Ballenas ‘whales’ gulf’, Isla de Perros ‘dogs’ island’ – Flora: Los Robles ‘the oaks’, Punta de Pinos ‘pinewood headland’, Real del Alamo ‘poplar camp’, Arroio del Laurel ‘laurel river’, Ensenada de las Palmas ‘palm bay’, Cabo de Canaveral ‘cape of the reeds’, Isla de Juncos ‘island of the rushes’ – Maritime context: Cayo del Anclote ‘shallow island of the small anchor’, Río à los Canots ‘river of boats’ – Cardinal directions/points: Canal del Sur ‘channel of the south’, Banco del Norte ‘sandbank of the north’, Río del Norte ‘river of the north’, Cayo del Suroeste ‘flat sandy island of the southwest’ – Artificially created objects: Llano de la Puente ‘plain of the bridge’, Ranchería del Corral ‘small village of the enclosure’. In the latter example, the shape of the dwellings where the local population lived was the inspiration for the naming (cf. Costansó 1911: 186). The toponym Ranchería de la Casa Grande refers to a large house in the middle of the village (cf. Costansó 1911: 256). – Activities: This includes names describing an activity carried out by a person. For example, the name Reál de los Cazadores ‘hunter’s camp’ derives from the fact that the locals living there were mostly hunters (cf. Costansó 1911: 238). Another example is Ranchería de los Indios Pescadores ‘small village of the fishermen’ (see diary of Costansó 1911: 300). – Ethnonyms: The naming is motivated by the indigenous population living in the area: Río de los Akansas ‘river of the Akansas’, Río à los Sioux ‘river of the Sioux’, Mesas de Nabajo ‘plateau of the Nabajo’, Río de los Padoucas ‘river of the Padoucas’.

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–

Others: In addition, names are mentioned that cannot be clearly assigned – for example, because meta-onymic data are unavailable. Within the corpus at hand this is the case with Río Perdido ‘lost river’, Río Incognito ‘unknown river’, Río de Mozos ‘river of the servants’ or Bancos de Hostiones ‘sandbanks of the violent blow’. The latter could be a metaphorical description of the prevailing weather conditions.

Finally, we will explore the questions whether Spanish colonizers have applied names that already existed and which languages were used for the formation of geographical names.

4.1.3 Combination of languages The use of languages can also be of interest in colonial toponymy. With regard to colonial toponyms, three different types can be distinguished: endonyms, exonyms and hybrids. Exonyms are toponyms whose components take their origins from the language of the respective colonial power. Endonyms, on the other hand, are based on the language of the colonized. The third type are hybrid names whose components originate from the language of the colonial power on the one hand and from the language of the colonized on the other (cf. Stolz and Warnke 2018: 13–17). The toponyms examined here with respect to Spanish colonialism present a clear result: 89.5% are exonymous. The remaining toponyms are hybrid. It is noticeable that all these names have a geographical classifier. The classifiers originate without exception from Spanish, while the second specifying element usually derives from an indigenous language. The following examples illustrate this: Río Alatahama (Spanish río ‘river’) or Bahía de Abatcha (Spanish bahía ‘bay’). It is also interesting to note that a total of 14.9% of hybrid toponyms show the combination Spanish/French, such as Río à las Canots or Isla à la Course. In these cases, the Spanish colonizers have adopted the French toponyms in the Mississippi area and adapted them to their own language with regard to the classifier.

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4.2 French colonial toponyms 4.2.1 Constructions French names (the total number is 238) refer to both populated and uninhabited geographical objects such as settlements, harbors, fortresses, rivers, bays, headlands, islands, capes, mountains and valleys, as is the case with Spanish colonialism. In terms of structure, there are no noticeable differences between French and Spanish toponyms. All patterns described in the previous chapter can also be applied to the French inventory. – Type A: simplex Example: Sainte Marie – Type B: determiner + noun Examples: Le Portail [{Le}Noun {Portail}Noun]Top/Le ‘the’ Portail ‘portal’ La Fourche [{La}Det {Fourche}Noun]Top/La ‘the’ Fourche ‘fork’ – Type C: noun + adjective Examples: Isle Ronde [{Isle}Noun {Ronde}Adj]Top/Isle ‘island’ Ronde ‘round’ Lac Supérieur [{Lac}Noun {Supérieur}Adj]Top/Lac ‘lake’ Supérieur ‘upper’ – Type D: noun + noun Example: Fort Sainte Thérèse [{Fort}Noun {Saint Thérèse}NP]Top – Type E: noun + preposition (+determiner) + noun (+ adjective) Examples: Pointe aux Poules [{Pointe}Noun {aux}Prep/Det{Poules}Noun]Top/Point ‘headland’ aux ‘of’ Poules ‘chickens’ Isle au Chevreuil [{Isle}Noun {au}Prep/Det{Chevreuil}Noun]Top/Isle ‘island’ au ‘of’ Chevreuil ‘roe deer’ Cap de Sable Blanc [{Cap} Noun {de}Prep {Sable}Noun {blanc}Adj]Top/Cap ‘cape’ de ‘of’ Sable ‘sand’ Blanc ‘white’ Similar to Spanish colonialism, French toponyms also have a geographical classifier. After reviewing the French data, a total of 17 classifiers (types) can be identified: Ance/Anse ‘small bay’, Baye ‘bay’, Bayou ‘Mississippi waters’, Bouche ‘estuary’, Cap ‘cape’, Embouchure ‘estuary’, Fort ‘fortress’, Isle/Île ‘island’, Islet ‘small island’, Lac ‘lake’, Pointe ‘headland’, Port ‘port’, Prairie ‘prairie’, Rivière ‘river’, Saut ‘waterfall’, Source ‘source’, Val ‘valley’, Village ‘village’ The etymology of the classifiers Ance/Anse and Bayou is interesting because both were included in the French vocabulary during colonial times. Ance is a

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geographical name for a small bay (“petite baie” cf. Trésor de la langue Française informatisé; TLFi). In French, the lexeme anse means ‘handle’. From a linguistic-historical point of view, this is a metaphorical process in which the shape of the bay was obviously the decisive factor (cf. TLFi: lemma anse). The particularity of anse, however, is that this geographical classifier can only be found in colonized areas. There is evidence for Ance/Anse in various French colonies, e.g. on the island of Guadeloupe (Anse Longue) or on the island of La Réunion, e.g. L’Anse (cf. Herling 2018: 291–292). It is now interesting that another classifier appears during the French colonization of the Mississippi region: Bayou. The first written record dates from 1699 and can be found in colonial literature. The classifier bayou etymologically derives from the noun bàjuk from the indigenous language Choctaw and means ‘small river’. The peculiarity is that bayou was used as a geographical classifier exclusively for a shallow flowing or standing water body in the Mississippi region (cf. TLFi, entry on bayou). It should be noted that bayou was borrowed during the colonial period, but was only used in a certain area, namely in Louisiana or the Mississippi area.

4.2.2 Motivations for naming In the French corpus we can detect both, descriptive and non-descriptive names, similar to the Spanish corpus. Many French names have a commemorative function. Examples are Lac Frontenac, Lac Pontchartrain, Isle Maurepas, each of which honors a French politician from the colonial period. The name Val Laudonnière refers to René Goulaine de Laudonnière, a French Huguenot explorer. The Mississippi River was partly called Rivière Colbert by the French colonizers in honor of the Finance Minister Jean-Baptiste Colbert, in office under King Louis XIV. When Cavelier de La Salle took possession of the Mississippi area for the French crown in 1682, he erected a cross with the following inscription: “Au nom de Louis XIV, roi de France et de Navarre, le 9 avril 1682” [In the name of Louis XIV, King of France and Navarre, April 9, 1682], and named the area Louisiane (Casali and Cadet 2015: 33). Also other toponyms like Fort Louis, Fort Caroline, Charlesfort honor the French dynasty. Concerning the naming of Fort Caroline Laudonnière wrote in his travelogue: Voilà la description de nostre forteresse, que je nommay la Caroline en l’honneur de nostre prince le Roy Charles. (Laudonnière 1586: 46) [This is the description of our fortress, which I named Carolina in honor of our prince the King Charles.] (my translation)

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In addition, the French corpus of names contains a number of toponyms that honor a saint, such as Rivière de Saint Pierre or Port de Saint Jérôme. Nevertheless, the commemorative function is also fulfilled by names based on a place name in France. This ‘toponymic recycling’ is documented by the hydronyms Rivière Seine, Rivière Loire, Rivière Charente, Rivière Garonne, Rivière La Gironde and the toponym Nouvelle Orléans. The transfer of French river names can be explained by the fact that the first explorers found a topographical similarity between the rivers in the New World and those in France. Laudonnière noted the name Rivière Seine in his travelogue: “[...], la nomma Seine pour qu’elle approche bien fort de la Seine de France” (Laudonnière 1586: 10) [named it Seine to bring it closer to the Seine of France (my translation)]. It is noticeable that place names refer directly to France as the colonial actor. This is exemplified by the following toponyms Rivière des Français (‘river of Frenchmen’) or Cap Français (‘french cape’). Laudonnière described the motivation for naming as follows: “il appela Cap Français en l’honneur de notre France” [he called Cap Français in honor of our France (my translation)] (Laudonnière 1586: 15). It should be noted that this study cannot answer whether this is a typical feature of French naming practice. Only future studies can make statements possible. Finally, event names can be detected, too: For the naming of the river Rivière de Mai the day of the discovery was decisive: Ribault noted in his diary: sur la rive nord de la rivière (que nous avons appelée Mai car nous la découvrîmes le premier jour de ce mois.) (Laudonnière 1586: 10) [on the north bank of the river (which we called May because we discovered it on the first day of this month).] (my translation)

The naming of Cap de Loup ‘wolf cape’ was based on the observation of the following scene: When the French explorers sailed along the coast, they saw a group of Indians fleeing fearfully into the forest, leaving behind their prey, a lynx they had fried. This incident motivated the naming of Cap de loup: nous apperçumes une troupe d’Indiens lesquels ausitôt qu’ils eurent cognoissances des barques entrerent en une frayeur si grande qu’ils s’evadèrent par le bois, abandonnans un jeune Loupcervier, qu’ils faisoient tourne à la broche, pour ceste cause le lieu fut nomé le Cap de Loup. (Laudonnière 1586: 12) [we saw a troop of Indians who, as soon as they noticed the boats, they were so frightened that they escaped through the woods, abandoning a young lynx, they turned on a spit, for this reason the place was named the Cap de Loup.] (my translation)

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It should be noted that loup means ‘lynx’ in French whereas the lexem loupcervier refers to a North American species of a lynx. Some landscape features can be reflected by toponyms such as the color of the water: Rivière Noire ‘black river’, Rivière Verte ‘green river’, Rivière Blanche ‘white river’. Other descriptive names refer to the presence of animals such as Rivière des Dauphins ‘river of dolphins’. For example, Laudonnière noticed on his arrival a large number of dolphins in a river estuary. For this reason, the river was named Dolphin River. The diary says: […] je nommay ceste rivière, la Rivière des Dauphins, pour autant qu’à mon arrivee, j’y avois vu une grande quantité de dauphins, qui s’esgayoient en l’embouchure. (Laudonnière 1586: 37) [I named this river the River of Dolphins, because on my arrival, I saw there a great quantity of dolphins which merrily romped about the estuary.] (my translation)

When, for example, Laudonnière discovered an island on his journey, he remarked: “ne trouvasmes que de hauts Cedres pour ceste cause nous l’appellasmes l’Ile des Cedres” (Laudonnière 1586: 14) [we only found high cedres for this reason we called it Cedres Island (my translation)]. The occurrence of the cedar trees thus inspired the name. All in all, the following types of French colonial toponyms can be determined: Non-descriptive names – Names of colonial personalities: Lac Frontenac ‘lake Frontenac’, Lac Pontchartrain ‘lake Pontchartrain’, Val Laudonnière ‘valley Laudonnière’, Isle Maurepas ‘island Maurepas’, Fort de la Salle ‘fort de la Salle’ – Transferred toponyms: Rivière Seine ‘river Seine’, Rivière Loire ‘river Loire’, Rivière Charente ‘river Charente’, Rivière Garonne ‘river Garonne’, Rivière La Gironde ‘river La Gironde’, Nouvelle Orléans ‘New Orleans’, Nouvelle France ‘New France’ – Metropolis: Cap Français ‘French cape’, Fort Français ‘French fort’, Rivière des Français ‘river of the French’ – Dynasty: Port Royal ‘royal port’, Isle Royale ‘royal island’ – Name of a king: Louisiane, Fort Louis, Fort Caroline, Charlesfort – Name of a saint: Rivière Saint Rémy ‘Saint Rémy River’, Lac de Sainte Claire ‘lake of Saint Claire’, Isle Saint Michel ‘Saint Michael island’, Baye Saint André ‘Saint Andrew bay’, Fort de Saint Ignace ‘fort of Saint Ignace’, Cap Saint Antoine ‘Saint Anthony cape’ – Religious context: Lac à la Croix ‘lake of the cross’, Baye de l’Ascension ‘bay of ascension’, Île des 12 Apôtres ‘island of the 12 apostles’ – Events: Rivière de Mai ‘river of May’, Cap de Loup ‘wolfe’s cape’

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Descriptive names – Geomorphological characteristics: Isle Ronde ‘round island’, Rivière Fourchue ‘forked river’, Rivière Noire ‘black river’, Rivière Verte ‘green river’, Rivière Blanche ‘white river’, Ance Percée ‘perforated bay’, Rivière du Rocher ‘river of the rock’, Cap de Sable Blanc ‘cape of the white sand’, Bayoux aux Pierres ‘bayou of stones’, Bayou Penchant ‘hanging bayou’, Profonde Rivière ‘deep river’ – Climatic conditions: Rivière Froide ‘cold river’ – Fauna: Rivière des Dauphins ‘river of the dolphins’, Pointe au Chien ‘dog’s point’, Cap de l’Hirondelle ‘cape of the swallow’, Rivière du Serpent ‘snake river’, Isle du Castor ‘beaver island’, Rivière des Perles ‘river of pearls’, Cap des Ours ‘cape of bears’ – Flora: Fort aux Cèdres ‘fort of cedars’, Pointe d’Osier ‘headland of willow trees’, Pointe des Chênes ‘headland of oaks’, Bayou Cyprès ‘bayou cypress’ – Maritime context: Rivière au Canot ‘boat river’, Isles aux Vaisseaux ‘ship islands’ – Cardinal directions/points: Cap du Nord ‘cape of the north’ – Ethnonyms: Rivière Village des Hurons ‘village of the Hurons’, Baye des Noquets ‘bay of the Noquets’, Bayoux aux Tioux ‘bayou of the Tioux’ – Others: Names whose motivation cannot be clearly reconstructed are Rivière de la Providence ‘river of happy providence’ or Loursquidort ‘sleeping bear’. In the case of the toponym Rivière de la Providence, an event, or in the case of Loursquidort (which refers to a plain) a metaphorical description of the landscape could have been crucial for the naming.

4.2.3 Combination of languages The overall view shows that exonyms dominate quantitatively, as 77.5% of the toponyms are exclusively French. The remaining toponyms are hybrid. It is noticeable that these are exclusively names with a geographical classifier such as Village de Mississagues or Rivière des Iroquois. The classifiers are French, while the second specifying element derives from an indigenous language. Also interesting is the fact that French colonizers have adopted existing Spanish toponyms and maintained them in the form of a loan translation, such as Spanish Río Frío > French Rivière Froide, Bahía de la Asuncíon > Baye de l’Ascension, Río de Flores > Rivière des Fleurs, Bahía de Espiritu Santo > Pointe du Saint Esprit. In the last example, only the second specifying component (Espiritu Santo) is applied, but in relation to a different geographical object: a headland.

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5 Conclusion: French and Spanish colonial toponyms in a comparative perspective The analysis shows that French and Spanish toponyms from colonial times have both similarities and differences. A common feature is the use of geographical classifiers. Examples of toponyms with classifiers in the French colonial territory are: Rivière du Serpent, Île de Mai, Port de Saint Jérôme. Spanish examples include Islas de Todos Santos, Río de San Antonio and Isla Santa Rosa. It is also noticeable with respect to both colonial powers that anoikonyms and oikonyms are treated differently. In the Spanish and French colonial areas studied here, toponyms without a classifier denominate exclusively settlements (villages or towns). It should be added that some classifiers like Cayo and Bayou were not borrowed into the Spanish and French vocabulary until colonial times. The two classifiers Ance/Anse and Cañada are based on lexemes that already existed in the Spanish or French language. However, all four classifiers are used exclusively for naming geographical objects in colonial areas. Both Ance/Anse, bayou and Cañada or Cayo are missing in the European toponomasticon. Another common characteristic is the anthroponymic component. Numerous French and Spanish toponyms present either a name of a king (e.g. Charlesfort, Louisiane), a politician (e.g. Rivière Colbert), an explorer (e.g. Val Laudonnière, Bocas de D. Juan de la Quadra) or a saint (e.g. Saint Charles, Río de San Pedro). The difference, however, is that the religious context plays a more important role in the Spanish data corpus. In total, 26.1% of toponyms show a hagionymic component. In addition there are names (altogether about 4% of the total inventory) that are religiously motivated such as Bahía del Espíritu Santo (‘bay of the holy spirit’), Isla de Gran Martir (‘island of the great martyrdom’), El Rosario (‘the rosary’). Smorag (2006: 84) summarizes this preference in naming practice as follows: “[...] the Spanish adventure could only meet with success if guided by divine providence”. The important role that religion played for Spanish explorers from the 15th century onwards is also illustrated by Christopher Columbus’ choice of names: he named the first two islands he discovered in the New World Isla de San Salvador and Isla de Santa María de la Concepción. Only in second place follows the highest worldly authority, for the two other islands discovered by him received the commemorative names Isla Fernandina and Isla Isabela (the names of the then royal couple) (cf. Gužauskytė 2014: 170). For the French colonizers religion played a subordinate role. Only 1.7% of the names have a religious naming motive such as Lac à La Croix and 10.1% are

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formed by a saint’s name such as Lac de Sainte Claire. However, names of colonial actors such as politicians or explorers seem to be more significant. In the Spanish corpus, for example, there is no evidence of toponyms based on the name of a politician. In addition, in French colonial naming practice conquered places are named in honor of the French crown. The examples discussed above demonstrate this naming practice: Fort Caroline, Charlesfort, Louisiane. In the Spanish corpus, on the other hand, there is no evidence of this type of naming. On the one hand, in the French corpus the transferred toponyms are striking. In particular, names of French rivers (e.g. Seine, Charente, Garonne) or French cities (Orléans) are “recycled” in the New World. In the Spanish corpus, this naming practice is only documented by isolated examples, which account for only 0.5% of the corpus. On the other hand, in the French corpus, names are clearly referring to the French nation such as Rivière des Français, Cap Français. These toponyms undoubtedly fulfill a commemorative function, but also serve the development of national identity. In these examples (as well as regarding the toponyms based on names of politicians and kings) it becomes clear how France constructs its identity as a colonial power. Finally, there are similarities with respect to the use of languages. Exonyms dominate in both the Spanish and the French corpus. The difference, however, lies in the fact that hybrid formations are more frequent in the French colonial period. The following table summarizes the most important results of the contrastive comparison: Table 1: Differences between Spanish and French colonial toponyms.

Spanish

French

Toponyms with a classifier

92.2%

97.1%

Toponyms based on anthroponym

26.6%

14.3%

Toponyms based on hagionym

26.1%

10.1%

Toponym based on a name of a king

0%

2.1%

Transferred toponyms

0.7%

4.8%

Exonyms

89.5%

77.5%

Hybrids

10.5%

22.5%

On the basis of these results a preliminary conclusion can be drawn. Due to the empirical facts, the binary structure of the exonymic toponyms is striking, consisting of a classifier and another component, a modifier. It is noticeable that the position of the modifier is often an anthroponym such as [{Bahía}Class de {San

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Francisco}Mod]Top. However, this pattern is not exclusive to French or Spanish colonialism. As Stolz et al. (2016: 345) could show, this is a prototypical construction in European colonialism. In conclusion, it can be stated that further studies – especially from a contrastive perspective – can be very worthwhile to show specific features of the Spanish and French colonial toponomasticon on the one hand and to confirm general prototypical patterns of toponyms from the European colonial period on the other hand.

Abbreviations Adj Class Det Mod NP Prep Top

adjective classifier determiner modifier noun phrase preposition toponym

References Calvet, Louis-Jean. 2002. Linguistique et colonialisme. Petit traité de glottophagie (4th edn). Paris: Payot. Casali, Dimitri & Nicolas Cadet. 2015. L’empire colonial français. Paris: Grund. Gužauskytė, Evelina. 2014. Christopher Columbus’s naming in the diarios of the four voyages (1492–1504). A discourse of negotiation. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Herling, Sandra. 2018. Französische und spanische Kolonialtoponyme – ein kontrastiver Vergleich zur Karibikinsel Hispaniola. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 279–315. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Herling, Sandra. 2019. Von der kolonialen Benennungspraxis zur Pseudo-Hispanisierung – diachrone und synchrone Fallbeispiele zu spanischen Toponymen in Florida und Kalifornien. In Marietta Calderón & Sandra Herling (eds.), Namenmoden syn- und diachron, 225–253. Stuttgart: ibidem. Hough, Carole. 2016. Settlement names. In Carole Hough (ed.), The Oxford handbook of names and naming, 87–103. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Knauer, Gabriele. 2012. Varietäten des Spanischen: USA und Puerto Rico. In Joachim Born, Robert Folger, Christoper F. Laferl & Bernhard Pöll (eds.), Handbuch Spanisch. Sprache, Literatur, Kultur, Geschichte in Spanien und Hispanoamerika. Für Studium und Lehre, 116–126. Berlin: Erich Schmidt.

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Lapierre, Alain. 2003. Quelques observations sur la toponymie coloniale française aux États-Unis. Onoma 38. 75–84. Lapierre, Alain. 2007. La toponymie des Huguenots en Floride au XIVe siècle. Onomastica Canadiana 89(1). 1–25. Levkovych, Nataliya. 2018. Russische koloniale Toponyme in Alaska: eine Pilotstudie. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 189–278. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. López Morales, Humberto. 2008. Introducción: presencia histórica de lo hispano. In Humberto López Morales (ed.), Enciclopedia del español en los estados unidos, 31. Madrid: Instituto Cervantes. Marucci, Barbara & Rudy Marucci. 2005 [1980]. California’s Spanish place names. What they mean and the history they reveal (3rd edn). Santa Monica: Angel City Press. Mathieu, Jacques. 2001. La Nouvelle-France: les Français en Amérique du Nord, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle. Québec: Presses de l’Université Laval. Noll, Volker. 2001. Das amerikanische Spanisch. Ein regionaler und historischer Überblick. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Pearce, Thomas. 1961. Religious place-names in New Mexico. Names 9. 1–7. Reinhard, Wolfgang. 2016. Die Unterwerfung der Welt. Globalgeschichte der europäischen Expansion 1415–2015. München: Beck. Smorag, Pascale. 2006. Spanish place names beyond the US-Mexican border: From colonial to mainstream. In Michele Bottalico & Moncef El Saleh (eds.), Actes du congrès biennal de la EAAS (European Association for American Studies), Bordeaux, 2002, Borderline identities in Chicano culture, 79–100. Venedig: Mazzanti Editori. Smorag, Pascale. 2016. La Nouvelle-Orléans, une ville nommée Désir et bien advantage. E-rea Revue électronique d’études sur le monde anglophone. https://journals.openedition.org/ erea/5237#tocto1n1 Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2015. Aspekte der kolonialen und postkolonialen Toponymie unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des deutschen Kolonialismus. In Daniel SchmidtBrücken, Susanne Schuster, Thomas Stolz, Ingo H. Warnke & Marina Wienberg (eds.), Koloniallinguistik – Sprache in kolonialen Kontexten, 107–176. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2017. Anoikonyme und Oikonyme im Kontext der vergleichenden Kolonialtoponomastik. In Axel Dunker, Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Benennungspraktiken in Prozessen kolonialer Raumaneignung, 205–230. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2018. System- und diskurslinguistische Einblicke in die vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Eine gemeinsame Einführung. In Daniel SchmidtBrücken, Susanne Schuster, Thomas Stolz, Ingo H. Warnke & Marina Wienberg (eds.), Koloniallinguistik – Sprache in kolonialen Kontexten, 1–75. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas, Ingo H. Warnke & Nataliya Levkovych. 2016. Colonial place names in a comparative perspective. Beiträge zur Namenforschung 51. 279–355. TLFi = Trésor de la langue française informatisé. http://atilf.atilf.fr/

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Colonial maps and travel reports Abbad y Lasierra, Iñigo. 1981. Descripción de las costas de California. Madrid. Alzate y Ramírez, José Antonio de. 1768. Nuevo Geográfico de la América Septentrional. Perteneciente al Virreynato de Mexico. https://www.raremaps.com/gallery/detail/ 31332rg/nuevo-mapa-geografico-de-la-america-septentrional-perteneci-alzate-y-ramirez. Bellin, Jacques-Nicolas. 1744a. Carte des costes de la Floride françoise suivant les premières découvertes. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b85960316/f1.item.zoom. Bellin, Jacques-Nicolas. 1744b. Carte de la Louisiane, cours du Mississipi et pais voisins. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b67002766/f1.item.r=Colonie%20de%20la%20Lou isiane.zoom. Costansó, Miguel. The Portolá Expedition of 1769–1770. Diary of Miguel Costansó, herausgegeben von Frederick J. Teggart. 1911. Berkeley: University of California Berkeley. Cruz Cano y Olmedilla, Juan de la & Tomás López. 1755. Mapa maritimo del golfo de Mexico e Islas de la America. http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b531036051/f1.item.r=Lopez%20Florida.zoom. Deposito Hidrografico de Marina (Madrid). 1803. Carta esferica que comprehende las costas del seno mexicano. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b53103327m/f1.item.r=Florida %2018.zoom. Deslisle, Guillaume. 1718. Carte de la Louisiane et du cours du Mississipi. Dressé sur un grand nombre de mémoires entrautres sur ceux de Mr. Le Maire. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/ 12148/btv1b53093495h/f1.item.zoom. Duval, Pierre. 1677. La Floride Françoise dressée sur la relation des voiages que Ribaut, Laudonier, et Gourgues y ont faits en 1562, 1564 et 1567. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/ btv1b6700257v/f1.item.r=Colonie%20Floride%2016.zoom. Joutel, Henri. 1713. Carte nouvelle de la Louisiane et de la rivière de Missisipi, découverte par Mr de la Salle, année 1681 et 1686 dans l’Amérique septentrionale, et de plusieurs autres rivières jusqu’icy inconnuës, qui tombent dans la baye de St. Louis. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ ark:/12148/btv1b8596044t/f1.item.r=Nouvelle%20France%20Mississippi.zoom. Lahaurie Meritorio, Josef. 1789. Descripción de la costa de la Luciana y entrada en el Río de Micisipi con sus sondas y bajos nuebamte. corregido y enmendado pr. los pilotos de la Rl. Armada en el año de 1769. https://www.loc.gov/resource/g3862c.lh000827/?r=0.158, 0.205,0.161,0.069,0. Laudonnière, René Goulaine de. 1586. L’histoire notable de la Floride sitvee es Indes Occidentales: contenant les trois voyages faits en icelle par certains capitaines & pilotes françois, descrits par le capitaine Laudonniere, qui y a commandé l’espace d’vn an trois moys: à laquelle a esté adiousté vn quatriesme voyage fait par le capitaine Gourgues. Paris. López, Tomás. 1755. Mapa maritimo del golfo de Mexico e Islas de la America. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b531036051.r=tomas%20lopez%20florida?rk=64378;0. López, Tomás. 1762. La Luisiana cedida al Rei N.S. Por S.M. Christianisima, con la Nueva Orleans, é Isla en que se halla esta ciudad. Construida sobre el Mapa de Mr. D’Anville. Por D. Thomas Lopez. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b531712196/f1.item.r=Luisiana. zoom. López, Tomás. 1783. Plano de la ciudad y puerto de San Augustin de la Florida. http://gallica. bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b6700279f/f1.item.r=Florida%20colonia.zoom.

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López, Tomás. 1796. Carta Reducida que comprende las costas septentrionales De La California, contenidas entre el grado 36 y el 61 de latitud norte, descubiertas el año de 1775 y el de 1779. https://www.raremaps.com/gallery/detail/33579/carta-reducida-quecomprende-las-costas-septentrionales-de-l-lopez. Nolin, Jean-Baptiste. 1756. Carte du Canada et de la Louisiane qui forment la Nouvelle France et des colonies angloises, où sont representez les pays contestez. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ ark:/12148/btv1b53093770k/f1.item.r=nouvelle%20france%20colonie.zoom. Santa Cruz, Alonso de. 1572. Mapa del Golfo y costa de la Nueva España: desde el Río de Panuco hasta el cabo de Santa Elena. https://www.loc.gov/resource/g3860.ct001033/ ?r=0.818,0.226,0.321,0.138,0.

Marie A. Rieger

Vorland-Nyika and Kumbamulde The handling of indigenous place names in Oskar Baumann’s Usambara writings Abstract: This paper analyses two volumes in which the Austrian geographer Oskar Baumann (1864–1899) describes his expeditions to Usambara. Baumann’s recordings are particularly interesting because he reached the area before the colonization of this north-eastern part of Deutsch-Ostafrika began. The paper explores how indigenous place names are integrated into colonial discourse with a special focus on classifiers. It will be shown that the data gathered is in line with German colonial toponymy since most place names preserve their indigenous form whereas the smaller group of place names comprising indigenous and German elements are generally coined according to prototypical patterns. Keywords: indigenous toponyms, geo-classifiers, German colonialism, DeutschOstafrika, Usambara Mountains

1 Introduction Spatial information is vital for humans but it is no easy task to communicate it in structured ways. Therefore, the invention of mapmaking which “began to emerge as a distinctive practical art some three thousand or more years ago” (Lewis 1987: 50) can be considered a milestone in human evolution. As far as the mapping of Africa by Europeans is concerned, the continent’s coastline had been mapped – at least in broad outlines – by the end of the fifteenth century (Demhardt 2000: 7), but a complete cartographic unveiling (in Die Entschleierung Afrikas, i.e. ‘The Unveiling of Africa’, Demhardt traces the continent’s cartographic exploitation, in particular by German geographers) had to wait until the twentieth century (Demhardt 2000: 100–107). A special interest in East-Africa arose in the middle of the nineteenth century as a result of enticing narratives about snow-covered

|| Marie A. Rieger, University of Bologna, Department of Modern Languages, Literatures, and Cultures, Via Cartoleria 5, 40124 Bologna, Italy. E-mail: [email protected] https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-004

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mountains at the equator, the still-unsolved conundrum of the Nile, and David Livingstone’s travels (Demhardt 2000: 137). While explorers may have used existing maps and produced new ones mainly in order to increase knowledge about the world, for the ends of European colonialism maps were an indispensable means for claiming rights over the occupied land.1 The Austrian geographer and cartographer Oskar Baumann (1864–1899) embodied both roles in two consecutive travels in the German colony of Deutsch-Ostafrika (DOA). In 1888 he participated in an expedition to Mount Kilimanjaro which was led by the German explorer and publisher Hans Meyer (1858–1929). During this expedition, Baumann was specifically in charge of producing a map of the Usambara Mountains, which, at the time, were still unexplored by Europeans (Baumann 1890: V). While in West-Usambara, the expedition came to an abrupt end because of the outbreak of an uprising against the German occupation in September 1888, eventually forcing Meyer and Baumann to return to the coast.2 In 1890 Baumann returned to the Usambara Mountains, this time on official missions on behalf of the DeutschOstafrikanische Gesellschaft (DOAG), i.e. the chartered German East-African Company. The outcomes were published in 1891 in a volume entitled Usambara und seine Nachbargebiete [Usambara and its neighboring areas], where Baumann describes his second journey in detail.3 The interesting thing about Baumann’s Usambara writings is the fact that he explored the area before the German settlers arrived and the administrative machinery was implemented. Indeed, the actual occupation by the Germans gained momentum only in the second half of the 1890s (Feierman 1972: 1). In other words, the place names he encountered during both of his Usambara expeditions were, in fact, pre-colonial place names. Since a good number of these place names is still in use today, we may assume that Baumann left us a reasonably adequate graphemic representation of the, in all probability, orally reported names.4 Hence the Baumann names corpus gives us a glimpse into pre-

|| 1 For the close bond between cartography and colonialism see Jureit (2012: chapter 3). 2 In fact, the title of the first volume about Usambara (Baumann 1890), In Deutsch-Ostafrika während des Aufstands, [In German East-Africa during the rebellion], refers to the uprising. 3 Due to the limitations of space, in this paper it is not possible to go into the (pre-colonial and colonial) history of the Usambaras. On this point see Conte (2004), Feierman (1972) and (1974), Winans (1962). 4 In May–June 2019, I carried out a field study on that matter, the findings of which were presented at the 5th International Symposium on Place Names 2019: Recognition, Regulation, Revitalisation: Place Names and Indigenous Languages (ISPN, September 2019) in Clarens, South Africa. With regard to spelling, Baumann himself (1891: 355) emphasises the adequacy of

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colonial naming practices in the Usambara region and, what is in focus here, into the ways indigenous place names were incorporated into German colonial texts. Besides finding the appropriate phoneme-grapheme correspondence, this also required dealing with another linguistic problem: together with the name, an indication or explanation of the geo-object it referred to had to be incorporated into the text. These preliminary considerations give rise to a twofold objective pursued by this paper: By sampling and analyzing the place names recorded by Baumann the present study is intended as a case-study contribution to German colonial toponymy.5 In particular, it will show some of the linguistic strategies used to integrate indigenous place names and their references into the German text with special attention to the use of classifier elements. In order to meet these goals, the paper is structured as follows: Section 2 will discuss some basic terms and concepts. The central Sections 3 and 4 will present the corpus, taking into account various toponymical and linguistic aspects. Section 3.1 will focus on the geo-objects the place names refer to, whereas Section 3.2 groups the corpus with regard to toponymical classes. Section 4 analyses the construction patterns, first concerning the presence of endonymic and exonymic elements (Section 4.1). Section 4.2 focuses instead on classifier elements. The paper closes with some concluding remarks in Section 5.

2 Basic concepts From an onomastic point of view, an indigenous place name is classified as endonym, i.e. a “[n]ame of a geographical feature in one of the languages occurring in that area where the feature is situated” (UNGEGN 2002: 10), in opposition to a non-indigenous name or exonym, i.e. a “name used in a specific language for a geographical feature situated outside the area where that language is widely spoken”.6 As already mentioned in the introductory section, it can rea-

|| the orthography proposed by Steere (1890: 8–12), but eventually decided to use the German way of spelling because it was more suited for a German-speaking readership, giving the examples of Chawa (Steere) which becomes Tschaua, and Zigi (Steere) spelled Sigi. 5 The term toponymy is understood as “the set of toponyms within a specific territory/region, language, period of time etc.” (ICOS: 5). 6 The definition is taken from the list of key terms in onomastics proposed by the International Council of Onomastic Sciences (ICOS) available in English, French and German at: https://icosweb.net/publications/onomastic-terminology/ (accessed 13th July 2019). The wording of the

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sonably be assumed that, given the historical circumstances, the place names gathered by Baumann are genuine endonyms resulting “from genuinely local traditions of place naming” (Stolz and Warnke 2018a: 53). Irrespective of whether they are endonyms or exonyms, place names may be compounds built up of two types of elements, one of which is a generic term, i.e. a “common noun that describes a topographic feature in terms of its characteristics and not by its proper name. Examples: mountain, sierra, san, shan, dagh, jabal, har, river, wadi, gang” (UNGEGN 2002: 17; emphasis in original). However, it must be borne in mind that the “generic element does not necessarily indicate the type or class of feature of the item named” (UNGEGN 2002: 12). In such cases we can speak of “false generic elements” (UNGEGN 2002: 12). Specifics, on the other hand, are that “part of a toponym […] that distinguishes it from others of the same feature class. It may include an article and/or other linguistic elements. Examples: Port Elizabeth; Rio Negro; Cape of Good Hope (UNGEGN 2002: 24; emphasis in original). In accordance with Stolz and Warnke (2018b: 22), the term classifier will be used from here on to denote the generic element, and modifier for the specific element.7 A crucial point in this study is the fact that the geo-object a given toponym refers to, cannot be inferred from the name itself.8 This implies that, together with the name, the type of geographical feature – or geo-object – it refers to, has to be given in some other way. In colonial contexts, one linguistic strategy aimed at imparting this kind of weltwissen is the use of classifiers taken from the colonizer’s language which are attached to the indigenous place-names: “If the European component combines with a constituent from an autochthonous language of the colony, we employ the term mixed exonym” (Stolz and Warnke 2018a: 53). Instead of mixed exonym the term hybrid, as used by Stolz and Warnke (2018b: 16), is preferred since it considers the endonymic and the exonymic element on the same level.

|| UNGEGN definition is very similar but contains the more specific “[language with] official status” (2002: 10), instead of the more general, and in the present context more appropriate, “widely spoken [language]”. Apart from that, ICOS refers explicitly to the UNGEGN-list. 7 For a thorough discussion of the term classifier, see Döschner (2018). 8 On this point, see for example Nyström (2016: 39–40).

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3 Geographic and toponymic classification of the database In accordance with his mission, Baumann strived to give a description of the investigated area that was as accurate as possible.9 In some cases, however, a number of different terms are applied to the same (type of) geo-object, seemingly for stylistic reasons only. The lowland area traversed by the Lwengera River, for example, is variously termed Luengerathal ‘-valley’10 (Baumann 1891: 5), Luengerabecken ‘-basin’ (Baumann 1890: 151), or Luengerasenkung ‘-depression’ (Baumann 1891: 163). In such cases, the relative geo-object was considered identical. With regard to the investigated area, it is also not easy to determine the exact boundaries of “Usambara”. For geographical and historical reasons, the study considers, however, not only the Usambara Mountains in the strict sense of the term but also the immediate eastern foreland, and, occasionally, the bordering areas at the foot of the southern and northern precipices. In the following subsections, the toponyms extracted on this basis from Baumann’s two Usambara works will be presented first with regard to the geo-objects they refer to (3.1), and subsequently in terms of their toponymic classification (3.2).

3.1 Named geo-objects As can be seen from the list in the appendix, the corpus comprises 238 names referring to 233 geo-objects. Four geo-objects are mentioned with different names: A plantation on the very south-eastern fringes of East-Usambara is called Deutschenhof11 (Lewa) in Baumann (1890: 42) whereas, in Baumann (1891: 154), the very same geo-object is consistently called Lewa, the indigenous name of the area where the German-owned plantation had been established, without any reference to the former German name. In two of the remaining three cases there are variants of the same name: Nkosoi (Baumann 1890: 100) and Kosoi (Baumann 1891: 175) both referring to the same river in the south-eastern part of West-Usambara, whereas Msosue (Baumann 1890: 54) and Misosue (Baumann || 9 Of course, this does not necessarily mean that his claims reflect the realities as seen by the local people with regard to topography and toponymy, let alone to the people and their culture. 10 In order to make the construction patterns transparent, place names are glossed following the German internal structure, the underlining serving to distinguish the different building blocks. 11 The name is made up of the elements ‘Germans’ + ‘farm’.

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1891: 156) both name the same indigenous settlement where a station had been established by the Universities Mission of Central-Africa (Baumann 1891: 155– 156). Finally, there is an area in north-eastern West-Usambara indicated with three slightly differing names: Jaschatu (Baumann 1890: 153), Haschatu (Baumann 1891: 170), and District Schatu (Baumann 1891: 6). The common element schatu refers to the personal name Schatu who was the area’s chief at the time of Baumann’s travels (Baumann 1890: 70 and 1891: 172). That the three names refer to the same geo-object is confirmed not only by the geographic indications given by Baumann in each case and the common references to chief Schatu, but also linguistically. During my personal visit in Usambara in May–June 2019, I was informed by several people that the noun shatu, in Sambaa12, means ‘python’. One of these informants, the elder Mzee Shaban Mkwayu preserved a memory of the settlement Hashatu and indicated the place where it was once located in accordance with Baumann’s location of the place. He also recorded that Shatu was known as a healer and stated that the name bears the meaning of ‘where Shatu lives’. In fact, in the Sambaa language, the prefix ha-/he- expresses ‘belonging to’. The same meaning is also expressed by the preposition -a which can often be translated as ‘of’. When this preposition is linked to the concept of shi ‘area, country, kingdom’ it takes the form (shi) ya ‘(land) of’ (see Seidel 1895: 7–8 and 54; Steere 1867: 79–80).13 Therefore, the names Haschatu and Jaschatu recorded by Baumann bear both the meaning of Schatus Land (‘land of Schatu’) which is equivalent to District Schatu.14 The 233 identified geo-objects comprise 104 man-made and 129 natural features. The former group is made up of 97 indigenous villages and so-called Dorfkomplexe, i.e. areas with a central village (Dorf) and a series of related smaller villages and hamlets, as well as three missionary stations, two European plantations, one factory and one abandoned DOAG station. In confirmation of what has been said about the state of German colonization, the European sites were all situated at the southern and south-eastern outskirts of Usambara. The second largest group with 43 items contains, not surprisingly, names for “high ground” (Drummond 2016: 115). In addition there are 34 rivers and tor|| 12 Sambaa is a Bantu-language spoken by the Shambaa people who have lived a long time in the area, calling their land Shambaai. This also means that, from the point of view of Usambara’s dominant ethnic group, the toponym Usambara is an exonym. 13 This was confirmed by my main – linguistic, geographic, and socio-cultural – informants, the Sambaa native speakers Dickson Shekivuli, anthropologist and director of Kitala – EcoCultural Tourism Enterprise (www.kitalaecte.co.tz), and the Rosminian Father Jerome Mkwama. 14 In the Großer Deutscher Kolonialatlas (GDKA), the area is indicated as Schatus-Land (map n° 21, Deutsch-Ostafrika Blatt 6, and relative index).

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rents as well as one lake which, in the dry seasons, becomes a swamp, and one river mouth. 32 geo-objects are larger geographical units of land whereas 16 are valleys. Finally, there are two areas labeled as river banks. At this point, however, it is important to draw attention to a basic problem, i.e., to the mental concepts of space and place. It is more than likely that Baumann’s ideas about space and place may have differed to a greater or lesser extent with regard to the ones his interlocutors had in mind. Furthermore, even though Baumann had knowledge of Kiswahili (Baumann 1891: 340), the most widely spoken language in Usambara was Sambaa. The mediation of space and place concepts between German and Sambaa through Kiswahili may have altered the outcomes even more. Different spatial notions may also affect the ideas about which spaces and places are worthy of being named. Therefore, it has to be borne in mind that what is outlined here are Baumann’s ideas about what he saw and heard.

3.2 Toponymic classes For the purpose of toponymic classification only, geo-objects identified by semantically similar classifiers are grouped under the following umbrella terms: geo-objects such as Land ‘land’, Landschaft ‘region’, Gebiet ‘area’, District ‘district’, Ebene ‘plain’ are tagged with the general term territory; geo-objects such as Gebirge ‘mountain range’, Berg ‘mountain’, Felsberg15, Kamm ‘ridge’, Kuppe ‘hilltop’, and so on are tagged as mountain; geo-objects such as Thal ‘valley’, Becken ‘large valley’, Senkung and Mulde, both meaning ‘hollow’, are tagged as valley; the geo-objects Fluss ‘river’, Bach ‘torrent’, Giessbach ‘stream’, as well as See ‘lake’, Sumpf ‘swamp’ and Mündung ‘mouth (of a river)’ are grouped under the general term of water. The two occurrences of the land-water transition zone bank are also included in this latter group. Finally, all kinds of populated areas are subsumed under the term settlement. On that basis, the database of 238 toponyms consists of 106 settlement names or oikonyms, 43 names of mountains or oronyms, 39 names of water or hydronyms, 34 names of territories or choronyms, and 16 names of valleys. Including the variants mentioned in Section 3.1, there are 164 different names or types since 45 names refer to more than one kind of geo-object. Of these 45

|| 15 The unusual term Felsberg(e), i.e. ‘rocky mountain(s)’, has 8 occurrences in Baumann (1890) and 4 in Baumann (1891). It is possible that Baumann wanted to emphasise peaks showing bare rock in a generally forested mountain scenery.

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names 32 have a double reference, 11 names refer to three, one to 4, and one other to 5 different geo-objects. 13 of the multiple references extend the hydronym to the valley created by the river, and 16 names refer both to mountains and settlements. To this last point, I will come back in the final part of this paper. The present geographic and toponymic classifications reflect two things about the Usambara area at the time of Baumann’s visit: On the one hand, the territory is characterized by a succession of high grounds and valleys replete with water resources. At the same time, it is a relatively densely populated area, given that nearly 45% of the recorded names refer to settlements. Baumann himself claims to have visited almost 200 villages (Baumann 1891: 12), and we can presume that there were many more, since during the time of Baumann’s visit the Shambaa built their villages in inaccessible areas which could not be seen from the main footpaths, so that invading warriors and slave raiders would not find them. The villages were hidden, surrounded by thickets or banana groves. A number of Europeans who settled in Shambaai at the time, and got to know it well, reported their surprise at finding that areas which they had assumed to be completely unpopulated were found, after long acquaintance, to be richly settled […]. (Feierman 1972: 29)

4 Construction patterns and classifiers In this section, the place names are analyzed with respect to two linguistic aspects. To begin with, the focus will be on the construction patterns as regards the use of endonymic and exonymic elements (Section 4.1). Subsequently, the category of classifiers is subjected to detailed scrutiny (Section 4.2).

4.1 Construction patterns Except for the one exonym, Deutschenhof, all other 237 names contain an endonymic element, 197 of which are used at least once without an exonymic classifier. To take but two examples: The river Pangani is occasionally called Panganifluss ‘Panganiriver’ (Baumann 1891: 2), but most of the time just Pangani16 whereas Schegescheraiberg ‘Schegescheraimountain’ (Baumann 1890: 107) appears also as Schegescherai (Baumann 1890: 154). All endonymic toponyms which are used at least once without an attached classifier element were || 16 About 120 occurrences in Baumann (1891).

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entered into the database as pure endonyms. From a structural point of view, these endonyms appear mostly as one-word names. Without profound linguistic knowledge of the source languages, in particular Sambaa and Kiswahili, they have no recognizable internal structure. The sole exceptions in this respect are endonyms containing the preposition kwa such as Kwa Shihui: “[A]reas which are named after the name of a chief or prominent person or amenity like a river or forest normally are preceded by Kwe- or Kwa-, that means ‘a land of’.”17 This modern interpretation is indirectly confirmed by Baumann who reported that the name of the chief of the village Kwa Schihui is Schihui (Baumann 1891: 173). However, where the preposition kwa is concerned, there is no consistency in spelling. In Baumann (1890: 100) we find for example Kwamongoberg and in Baumann (1891: 175) Kwa-Mongoberg.18 The only apparently endonymic two-word compound is Umba-Nyika consisting of the river name Umba and the Kiswahili classifier nyika ‘(dry) steppe’: Das zweite geschlossene Steppengebiet des nordöstlichen Deutsch-Ostafrika möchte ich als Umba-Nyika bezeichnen. (Baumann 1891: 257) [The second closed steppe territory in the north-eastern part of German East-Africa, I want to call Umba-Nyika.]19 (my translation)

In German colonial toponymy it is rather unusual that the geo-classifier is taken from an indigenous language (Stolz and Warnke 2018a: 55). However, the element nyika has more than 30 occurrences in Baumann (1890), and nearly 60 occurrences in Baumann (1891). Although they are not part of the corpus analyzed here, it should be mentioned that there are also the toponyms MkomasiNyika (Baumann 1891: 178), Pangani-Nyika (Baumann 1891: 200), and SemtulaNyika (Baumann 1890: VII).20 Among the above-mentioned occurrences of nyika,

|| 17 E-mail from Dickson Shekivuli, July 2019. 18 For more examples, see the relevant part of the GDKA index (page 3 of the NamenVerzeichnis für die Karte von Deutsch-Ostafrika). 19 The first steppe area mentioned is the Massaisteppe ‘Maasai Steppe’ (Baumann 1891: 257), south of the Pagani River and therefore not relevant for the present study. Right at the beginning of the 1891 volume, Baumann explains the meaning of nyika: “Ein grosser Theil des Landes ist Steppengebiet, Nyika, das eine ganz eigenartige Flora besitzt” [A large part of the country consists of steppe, nyika, which has a very particular flora] (Baumann 1891: 7) (my translation). 20 The toponym Umba-Nyika was included in the corpus because the Umba River has its source in the Usambara Mountains and because of the frequency of the name. The other steppe areas appear only occasionally and, although they border on West- and South-Usambara, there is less connection to the mountain area.

60 | Marie A. Rieger

there is the even more interesting name Vorlandsnyika (Baumann 1891: 299 and 306) which is a kind of reverse pattern of the prototypical German colonial toponym, i.e., a hybrid made up of an indigenous modifier and a German classifier (Stolz and Warnke 2018a: 55), e.g., Usambaraberge ‘Usambaramountains’. The toponym Vorlandsnyika, instead, consists of the German modifier Vorland(s) ‘foreland’ and the Kiswahili classifier nyika. This kind of hybrid is also rather rare in German colonial toponymy. The remaining 39 toponyms are also hybrids, 36 of which reflect the prototypical pattern of German colonial toponyms mentioned above, i.e. [{modifier}endonym{classifier}exonym]toponym. Examples are Fingaberg ‘Fingamountain’, Dalunithal ‘Dalunivalley’, Hokoibach ‘Hokoitorrent’. This group of 36 names is different from the pure endonyms mentioned above insofar as the endonymic element appears exclusively in combination with the exonymic classifier. Thirteen of these 36 compounds contain a classifier referring to the geo-object class mountain, such as -berg ‘mountain’, -kamm ‘ridge’, and/or -kuppe, nine to -thal ‘valley’, twelve to water, such as -fluss ‘river’ and/or -bach ‘torrent’. Two compounds comprise the classifiers -gegend and -gebiet, both meaning ‘area’. A closer analysis reveals that, in all of these cases, the classifier element is necessary in order to indicate the type of geo-object that is named. However, two – sometimes overlapping – case groups can be distinguished. The first case group is formed by toponyms which appear only once in the text, e.g. Kwasindothal ‘Kwasindovalley’ (Baumann 1890: 103), Mbesabach ‘Mbesatorrent’ (Baumann 1891: 197). A curious example here is the “higher ground” Komascharu. As he was climbing the mountain Baumann named it Komascharuberg ‘Komascharumountain’ (Baumann 1890: 77). Some sentences later, however, as he was looking down from the peak, it becomes the much less impressive Komascharuhöhe ‘Komascharuheight’ (Baumann 1890: 78). The second case group contains place names whose endonymic element refers to different geo-objects. An example here is Mbaramu which can refer to a village, a mountain or a river. As in other similar cases, the pure endonym generally denotes the village in contrast to Mbaramubach ‘Mbaramutorrent’ (Baumann 1890: 86), and Mbaramuberg ‘Mbaramumountain’ (Baumann 1890: 152). The remaining three hybrid toponyms follow the construction pattern of Neu-Bethel ‘New-Bethel’21 where an adjective is attached to an already existing toponym. This pattern accounts for almost 10% of the German colonial toponymy (Stolz and Warnke 2015: 141), and, as in the example given, the most widely used adjectives are neu ‘new’, alt ‘old’, groß ‘large’, and klein ‘small’ (Stolz and

|| 21 Neu-Bethel was a missionary station in the north-western part of the Usambara Mountains, founded in 1893 by missionaries from the German Bethel Mission and named after the place where the Mission’s headquarters was (and still is) located in Germany (Wohlrab 1915: 43–46).

Vorland-Nyika and Kumbamulde | 61

Warnke 2018c: 85). However, the three corresponding toponyms found in Baumann use the adjective unter- ‘under/inferior’: Unter-Hundu, Unter-Mbaramu, Unter-Mkalamu. Although, a prose text is not directly comparable with statistics compiled from indexes, the Baumann Usambara texts confirm the general tendency of a clear predominance of endonymic place names. 83% is, however, visibly lower than the nearly 93% of endonyms present in German colonial toponymy (Stolz und Warnke 2018b: 19).

4.2 Classifiers Apart from the element nyika that has already been discussed in Section 4.1, all other classifiers are taken from German. As mentioned above, prototypical colonial toponyms “are prone to coming in the shape of right-headed binary determinative compounds [and] they usually contain a classifier […] as head that is always taken from German (even if the first constituent is indigenous)” (Stolz and Warnke 2018a: 55). This formation pattern is frequently used by Baumann, too. The one exonym found in Baumann follows that pattern, i.e. Deutschenhof ‘Germans + farm’22 as does the full endonym Umba-Nyika. All other such right-headed compounds are hybrids, examples being Bagaibach ‘Bagaitorrent’ (Baumann 1890: 84), Lukindoberg ‘Lukindomountain’ (Baumann 1891: 118), and Hunduthal ‘Hunduvalley’ (Baumann 1890: 63). In Baumann (1890) and (1891), I could find all in all 35 (German) generic geographical terms used as classifiers in names embodying the construction type [{modifier}endonym-{classifier}exonym] toponym: Mountainous landscape

Water

-Abfall ‘precipice’, -berg/e ‘mountain/s’, -bucht ‘bay’23, Felsberg ‘rocky mountain’, -felsen ‘rock’, -gebirge ‘mountain range’, -grat ‘ridge’, -höhe ‘height’, -hügel ‘hill’, -kamm ‘ridge’, -kuppe ‘hilltop’, -mulde ‘hollow’, -senkung ‘hollow’, -thal ‘valley’ -bach ‘torrent’, -Becken ‘large valley’, -fluss ‘river’, -flüsschen ‘small river’, -mündung ‘river mouth’, -ufer ‘bank’, -see ‘lake’, -sumpf ‘swamp’

|| 22 In the following, Deutschenhof is not considered. I will come back to it in the concluding Section 5. 23 The meaning here is that the plain penetrates ‘bay-like’ into the mountain range just like the ocean does into the land.

62 | Marie A. Rieger

Specific landscape Territory Settlement

-ebene ‘plain’, -steppe ‘steppe’, -wildnis ‘wilderness’ -bezirk ‘district’, -district/-District ‘district’, Gebiet ‘area’, -gegend ‘area’, -land ‘land’, -ländchen ‘small land’ -complex ‘complex’, -Dorfkomplex ‘village complex’, -mission ‘mission’, -plantage ‘plantation’

What may be striking at first glance is the preponderance of classifiers relating to natural features, despite the fact that oikonyms constitute nearly 45% of the corpus analyzed here. This impression reverses, however, when a second formation pattern is considered, i.e. left-headed two-word constructions where classifier and modifier are juxtaposed, e.g., der Complex Msasa ‘the complex (of) Msasa’ (Baumann 1891: 167), das Dorf Nkisara ‘the village (of) Nkisara’ (Baumann 1890: 63). For this construction type, I found the following 43 classifiers, 35 of which are not used in right-headed compounds. The eight classifiers found in both patterns are marked by an asterisk: Territory Mountainous landscape

Water Indigenous settlement

European settlement

Alpendistrict ‘alpine district’, *Bezirk ‘district’, *District ‘district’, *Gebiet ‘area’, Landschaft ‘region’ *Berg ‘mountain’, Berglandschaft ‘mountainous landscape’, Bergmassen ‘mountain massifs’, Centralketten ‘central mountain chains’, Doppelgipfel ‘double peak’, *Felsberge, Felskopf ‘rocky cliff’, Hügelkette ‘chain of hills’ Giessbach ‘torrent’, Wasserarm ‘water arm’ Bergdorf ‘mountain village’, *Complex ‘complex’, Dorf ‘village’, Dörfchen ‘small village’, Dörferkomplex ‘complex of villages’, Felsdorf ‘village situated on a rock’, Felsenfeste ‘castle-like village on a rock’, Hauptdorf ‘main village’, Hauptort ‘main settlement’, Königsdorf ‘royal village’, Königsstadt ‘royal town’, Niederlassung ‘settlement’, Wakambacolonie ‘colony of Wakamba (people)’, Wakambadorf ‘village of Wakamba’, Wakambaniederlassung ‘settlement of Wakamba’, Waschambaadorf ‘village of Shambaa’, Waseguacolonie ‘colony of Wasegua (people)’, Waseguedorf ‘village of Wasegua’, Wataitacolonie ‘colony of Wataita (people)’, Weiler ‘hamlet’ Factorei ‘factory’, Hauptstation ‘main station’, *Mission ‘mission’, *Plantage ‘plantation’, Station ‘station’, Tabaksfarm ‘tobacco farm’, Tabakplantage ‘tobacco plantation’, Zweigstation ‘secondary station’

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The frequency of settlement-classifiers in this second group – and its scarcity in the first one – is mainly due to intralinguistic preferences. The noun Dorf ‘village’ was a quite popular classifier through to modern times (Debus 2012: 184), often combined with a personal name as modifier element (Debus 2012: 167–168), e.g. Petersdorf, literally ‘Peter’s village’. This preference is reflected in the corpus where right-headed determinative compounds with -dorf are reserved for ethnonymic, i.e. person-related modifiers, e.g., Waschambaadorf (Baumann 1891: 178) whereas endonymic settlement names combine with Dorf only in left-headed two-word constructions such as Dorf Mkalamu (Baumann 1890: 55). A combination of both patterns is constituted by Waschambaadorf Heniangu (Baumann 1890: 111). It can be assumed that nouns with a similar meaning, such as Colonie ‘colony’ or Weiler ‘hamlet’, follow the same construction preferences. Stolz and Warnke (2015) analyzed the index of the GDKA in order to identify prototypical features of German colonial toponymy. This index includes the former German colonies of Kamerun, Togo, Deutsch-Ostafrika, and the widely scattered possessions in the Pacific, whereas it does not include the charted toponyms of Deutsch-Südwestafrika (DSW).24 This was remedied, however, in a subsequent study where Stolz and Warnke (2018c) analyzed a sizable annotated list of colonial place names from DSW. Besides the identification of the various, more or less typical, formation patterns (Stolz and Warnke 2015: chapter 6.3.1, and 2018c: chapter 2.3), they also determined the occurrence and frequency of classifier elements. In fact, they were able to show that there is a wide range of different classifiers among which we find, however, eight nouns used as classifiers in all the German colonial toponymies, i.e. Berg ‘mountain’, Fels ‘rock’, Gebirge ‘mountain range’, Fall ‘waterfall’, Höhe ‘hight’, Hügel ‘hill’, Insel ‘island’, and Spitze ‘peak’ (Stolz and Warnke 2015: 136, and 2018c: 84). They all refer to natural geo-objects. Apart from the classifier element Insel ‘island’, irrelevant for an inland area,25 five of the remaining seven are also used by Baumann whereas – surprisingly perhaps –Spitze ‘peak’ and Fall ‘waterfall’ are not. The absence of the former may be explained by the fact that the Usambara Mountains are more a succession of forested ridges and hilltops than of single prominent peaks. In

|| 24 On the reasons for the missing index, see Stolz and Warnke (2015: 131). 25 However, together with the already mentioned classifier -bucht ‘bay’, Baumann (1891: 163) uses Insel ‘island’ in a figurative way, too: “Die drei Berginseln, welche Usambara östlich vorgelagert, sind der Tonguë, Mlinga und Lukindo” [The three mountain-islands which are situated immediately east of Usambara are the Tonguë, Mlinga and Lukindo] (my translation).

64 | Marie A. Rieger

fact, the term Spitze, meaning ‘mountain peak’, occurs only once; the relative geo-objects remain, however, nameless: Nördlich vom Mlinga […] liegt das ansehnlichere Lukindogebirge. Dasselbe hat steile Hänge, besitzt mehrere felsige Spitzen und ist fast ganz mit Wald bedeckt. (Baumann 1891: 163) [The Lukindo Range is located north of the Mlinga [mountain]. It has steep slopes, a number of rocky peaks and is covered nearly entirely by forest.] (my translation and my emphasis)

The noun Fall also occurs only occasionally though there are, indeed, many falls in the water-rich and steep Usambaras. But, just as in the case of Spitze, Baumann reports the name of the whole geo-object rather than that of specific parts: Nur an den Bächen, unter welchen der Wuruni selbst einen hübschen Wasserfall bildet, gedeihen kleine Wäldchen. (Baumann 1891: 174) [Only alongside the torrents, among which the Wuruni forms a nice waterfall, do small forests thrive.] (my translation)26

Stolz and Warnke also identified classifiers that were used in only some of the colonies as well as classifiers found exclusively in one colonial toponymy system (Stolz and Warnke 2015: 137–138 and 2018c: 84). Selecting from these findings only those classifier elements that occur in the toponymy of DOA and that relate to geo-objects pertaining to a mountainous and water-rich landscape we find the following 24 items: Dorf ‘village’, Ebene ‘plain’, *Feld ‘field’, Fluss ‘river’, Gebiet ‘area’, *Gipfel, ‘peak’, *Hochland ‘highland’, Hof ‘farm’, *Höhle ‘cave’, *Kette ‘chain’, *Kopf ‘top’, Land ‘land’, Mündung ‘(river) mouth’, *Pass ‘pass’, *Plateau ‘plateau’, *Posten ‘station’, *Quelle ‘source/spring’, *Rücken ‘ridge’, See ‘lake’, Station ‘station’, Sumpf ‘swamp’, Tal ‘valley’, *Teich ‘pond’, *Wald ‘forest’ Despite the wide range of 78 different classifiers found in Baumann, there are, besides the already mentioned Spitze ‘peak’ and Fall ‘waterfall’, 13 further GDKA classifiers (marked with asterisk) which are not used in right-headed

|| 26 For similar occurrences of unnamed waterfalls in Usambara, see Baumann 1890 (67, 115, and 154). The two named waterfalls, i.e. the Thornton-Fall in the neighboring Pare Mountains, named after the British geologist Richard Thornton (Baumann 1890: 89 and 1891: 205), and the Panganifall (Baumann 1891: 266) are located outside the studied area.

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compounds such as Tongueberg ‘Tonguemountain’ (Baumann 1890: 53) nor in left-headed two-word toponyms such as Berg Tongue ‘mountain (of) Tongue’ (Baumann 1890: 42). The seven items marked only with an asterisk in the above list are found, however, as compound nouns and/or in occasional constructions, most of which are single occurrences. Examples are: Gipfel des Lukindo ‘peak of the Lukindo’ (Baumann 1890: 58),27 Doppelgipfel Kimbo ‘double peak Kimbo’ (Baumann 1891: 180), Hügelkette Makokani ‘chain of hills (of) Makokani’ (Baumann 1890: 92), Quellen des Muine ‘sources of the Muine’ (Baumann 1891: 173), Rücken des Tongueberges ‘ridge of the Tonguemountain’ (Baumann 1890: 41) and Urwald des Niëlo ‘primeval forest of the Niëlo’ (Baumann 1890: 36). The six underlined items may appear as nouns but are never used in relation to a place name: “[Wir] stiegen dann steil zu einem Passe an, der zwischen felsigen Gipfeln hindurchführt” [(We) then climbed a steep pass which passes between rocky peaks (my translation and my emphasis)] (Baumann 1890: 104). The following citation may explain why the term Plateau ‘plateau’ is not used as classifier: “Usambara kann nicht geradezu als Plateauland bezeichnet werden, obwohl es vielfach den Charakter eines solchen besitzt” [Usambara cannot really be called a plateau-land although, in many parts, it seems to be one (my translation)] (Baumann 1891: 2). To end this section, it should be noted that Baumann used two classifiers which, in the data analyzed in Stolz and Warnke (2015) and (2018c), are idiosyncratic for colonies other than DOA. In Baumann, we find the classifier Kuppe (‘hilltop’) in Kwambakuppe (Baumann 1890: 112), which otherwise is found only in Deutsch-Südwestafrika (Stolz and Warnke 2018c: 84). We also find Factorei ‘factory’ (Baumann 1891: 308) which, in the GDKA index, can be found exclusively in Kamerun.

5 Concluding remarks In this paper, Oskar Baumann’s Usambara writings have been analyzed with regard to recorded place names. The paper aims, primarily, to contribute to the project of Comparative Colonial Toponomastics as outlined by Stolz and Warnke (2018a). A comprehensive data-base is needed in order to “create a firm basis for a

|| 27 The only peak that was deemed worthy of being named is the Kibogipfel (Baumann 1891: 356). This may explain the absence of peak names since the Usambaras totally lack such imposing rock formations.

66 | Marie A. Rieger

comparative typology of colonial place-names which, in turn, will allow us to put forward generalizations as to the overall characteristics of colonial place-names and the patterns which are typical” (Stolz and Warnke 2018a: 46). In fact, Baumann recorded approximately 140 place names that are not contained in the GDKA index (see Appendix). The corpus is also important insofar as he recorded these names before the effective colonization of the area. Therefore, the endonymic names and elements can be considered as genuinely pre-colonial.28 With regard to structural characteristics, the names as recorded by Baumann are, however, in accordance with Hypothesis 1 proposed by Stolz and Warnke on the phenomenology of colonial toponymies (Stolz and Warnke 2018a: 46); the corpus shows typical features of the German colonial toponymy of later times, when colonialism was in full swing. Indeed, the vast majority of the place names are endonyms, whereas the hybrids have a preference for the construction pattern which would later become prototypical. In accordance with Hypothesis 2 (Stolz and Warnke 2018a: 46), i.e. variations due to specific time and/or space features, there are a couple of names, i.e. Umba-Nyika, Vorlands-Nyika, Factorei Korogwe, which seem to be specific to the Baumann corpus, and there is a slightly higher percentage of hybrid names. These particularities may be due to prominent environmental features – seen from above, the Usambara Mountains seem to swim in an endless sea of surrounding nyika – and to personal experiences in West-Africa29, as well as to the requirements of prose text. There is, however, an important difference between (colonial) place names purposely chosen and the names analyzed here. In chosen names it is not clear if the classifier element is indicative of the geo-object the name refers to. In the case of Deutschenhof ‘German farm’, the geo-object is, in fact, a (large) farm whereas Wilhelmstal, literally ‘valley of William’, is not the name of a valley but of the only town founded by Germans in the Usambara Mountains. In the case of the names analyzed here, the classifiers are not chosen for naming, but in order to indicate the geo-object that is referred to by the indigenous place name.30 To conclude, I would like to highlight two points. As will be remembered, Baumann recorded 43 oronyms which formed, after settlements, the second || 28 On this point, see Stolz und Warnke (2018b: 15). 29 The occurrence of the classifier element Factorei (Baumann 1891: 308) may be explained by Baumann’s journey in West-Africa to which he hints in the preface of his first Usambara book (Baumann 1890: V). In fact, the book’s final chapter VI is dedicated to that experience. 30 In a less stringent manner, this is also true for the two classifier elements Bucht ‘bay’, and Insel ‘island’. Although they do not indicate the respective geo-objects, they were chosen to metaphorically illustrate how the places appeared to the human eye.

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largest group. During my recent fieldwork I noticed, however, that my informants named only very few names referring to mountains whereas a good number of Baumann’s oronyms, today, are settlement names. This may be due to the fact that [h]istorically, high ground was economically marginal, although it may be [sic] have been used for pasture (especially of a transhumant nature), hunting, or mining. However, over the last century and a half, the human activity of climbing mountains simply for pleasure has led to a greater focus on their names, with in some cases new names being coined, either to replace an older extant name, or to fill a gap where no name existed. (Drummond 2016: 115)

Regarding the Usambara Mountains, high ground is still economically marginal since agriculture is confined to valleys. But, as mentioned before, villages were built preferably on high ground; therefore it is apparently the name of the village which names the area. My very last point concerns Deutschenhof. Amid the 237 indigenous place names, this one German name can be likened to a drum beat announcing an impending new era by linguistically claiming the invaders’ putative ownership.

References Baumann, Oskar. 1890. In Deutsch-Ostafrika während des Aufstandes. Reise der Dr. Hans Meyer’schen Expedition in Usambara. Wien & Olmütz: Eduard Hölzel. Baumann, Oskar. 1891. Usambara und seine Nachbargebiete. Allgemeine Darstellung des nordöstlichen Deutsch-Ostafrika und seiner Bewohner auf Grund einer im Auftrage der Deutsch-Ostafrikanischen Gesellschaft im Jahre 1890 ausgeführten Reise. Berlin: Dietrich Reimer. Conte, Christopher A. 2004. Highland sanctuary. Environmental history in Tanzania’s Usambara Mountains. Athens: Ohio University Press. Debus, Friedhelm. 2012. Namenkunde und Namengeschichte. Eine Einführung. Berlin: Erich Schmidt. Demhardt, Josef Imre. 2000. Die Entschleierung Afrikas. Gotha: Justus Perthes Verlag. Döschner, Jascha. 2018. Wie viel ‚Gattung‘ haben Geo-Objekte? Gattungseigennamen aus kolonialtoponomastischer Perspektive. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 77–94. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Drummond, Peter. 2016. Hill and mountain names. In Carole Hough & Daria Izdebska (eds.), The Oxford handbook of names and naming, 115–124. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Feierman, Steven. 1972. Concepts of sovereignty among the Shambaa and their relation to political action. Oxford: Wadham College D. Phil. thesis.

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Feierman, Steven. 1974. The Shambaa Kingdom. A history. Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press. GDKA = Paul Sprigade & Max Moisel. 1901–1915. Großer Deutscher Kolonialatlas. Berlin: Dietrich Reimer (Ernst Vohsen) [Neuausgabe mit ergänzendem Kartenmaterial zu DeutschSüdwestafrika. Köln: Komet-Verlag, 2002.] ICOS = Terminology Group of the International Council of Onomastic Sciences (ICOS): List of Key Onomastic Terms (Pdf-file downloaded from: https://icosweb.net/publications/onomastic-terminology/ [accessed: 13 July 2019]). Jureit, Ulrike. 2012. Das Ordnen von Räumen. Territorium und Lebensraum im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert. Hamburg: Hamburger Edition. Lewis, Malcolm G. 1987. The origins of cartography. In J. B. Harley & David Woodward (eds.), Cartography in prehistoric, ancient, and medieval Europe and the Mediterranean (The History of Cartography 1), 50–53. Chicago & London: The University of Chicago Press. Nyström, Staffan. 2016. Names and meaning. In Carole Hough & Daria Izdebska (eds.), The Oxford handbook of names and naming, 39–51. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Seidel, A. 1895. Handbuch der Shambala-Sprache in Usambara, Deutsch-Ostafrika. Dresden & Leipzig: Alexander Köhler. Steere, Edward. 1867. Collections for a handbook of the Shambala language. Zanzibar: Central African Mission Press. Steere, Edward. 1890. Handbook of the Swahili language, as spoken at Zanzibar. Third edition revised and enlarged by A. C. Madan. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2015. Aspekte der kolonialen und postkolonialen Toponymie unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des deutschen Kolonialismus. In Daniel SchmidtBrücken¸ Susanne Schuster, Thomas Stolz, Ingo H. Warnke & Marina Wienberg (eds.), Koloniallinguistik. Sprache in kolonialen Kontexten, 107–175. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2018a. Comparative colonial toponomastics: Evidence from German and Dutch colonial place-names. In Rita Heuser & Mirjam Schmuck (eds.), Sonstige Namenarten. Stiefkinder der Onomastik, 45–68. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2018b. System- und diskurslinguistische Einblicke in die vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Eine gemeinsame Einführung. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 1–75. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2018c. Auf dem Weg zu einer vergleichenden Kolonialtoponomastik. Der Fall Deutsch-Südwestafrika. In Birte Kellermeier-Rehbein, Doris Stolberg & Matthias Schulz (eds.), Sprachgebrauch, Sprachkonzepte und Sprachenpolitik in kolonialen und postkolonialen Kontexten, 71–104. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. UNGEGN = United Nations Group of Experts on Geographical Names. 2002. Glossary of terms for the standardization of geographical names. New York: United Nations. [Download at: https://unstats.un.org/unsd/geoinfo/UNGEGN/docs/glossary.pdf; accessed: 13 July 2019]. Winans, Edgar V. 1962. Shambala. The constitution of a traditional state. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Wohlrab, Paul. 1915. Usambara. Werden und Wachsen einer heidenchristlichen Gemeinde in Deutsch-Ostafrika. Bethel: Verlagsbuchhandlung der Anstalt Bethel.

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Appendix Besides the analyzed place names and geo-objects they refer to, the list contains the toponyms’ first citation in Baumann 1890 and 1891 as well as indications regarding the GDKA index relative to Deutsch-Ostafrika:31 Place name

Geo-object

1890

1891

GDKA

Baga

mountain

75

173

u

Baga

territory

–

208

–

Bagai

river

154

–

–

Bandi

mountain

–

171

x

Bombo

settlement

–

168

x32

Bombo

river

–

168

x

Bondei

territory

98

7

x33

Buiko

settlement

–

3

x

Buiti (East-Usambara)

territory

–

10

–

Buiti (West-Usambara)

territory

–

319

x

Buma

settlement

106

–

–

Bumbuli

settlement

70

3

u

Bumbuli

territory

174

172

–

Bungu

settlement

–

174

x

Daluni

settlement

–

10

x

Daluni

river

–

165

x

Dalunithal

valley

–

165

–

Dara

settlement

–

10

–

Dasseïberg

mountain

VII

–

–

Deutschenhof

plantation

42

–

–

|| 31 In cases of multiple references, the marker u (for “undetermined”) indicates that the GDKA index contains the name but does not specify the type of geo-object it refers to. In such cases, the marker is placed on the same line as the first relative geo-object in Baumann without intending any specific reference. When a one-reference name is present in Baumann and the GDKA, the marker x is used, even in lack of specification. The arrow () indicates that the name is present in the index but refers to different geo-objects. 32 In the GDKA the name also refers to the geo-objects region (Landschaft), and mountain. 33 In the index we find Bonde, which may be a typo since, on the relevant map n° 21, i.e. Deutsch-Ostafrika, Blatt 6, the region is correctly labelled as Bondëi.

70 | Marie A. Rieger

Place name

Geo-object

1890

1891

GDKA

Fingaberg

mountain

56

–

–

Fuschi

mountain

69

–

–

Gale

settlement

VII

175

x34

Galeberg

mountain

103

–

–

Gombelo

mountain

69

118

x

Gombelo

settlement

--

151

x

Gomeni

mountain

69

–

–

Hafeha

settlement

–

168

–

Hamadika

settlement

–

168

–

Handëi

settlement

–

172

x

Handëi

territory

54

7

x

Hankuni

settlement

69

–

x

Haschatu

settlement

VII

–

u

Haschatu

territory

–

170

–

Heniangu

settlement

111

–

–

Hewumu

settlement

56

–

–

Hokoibach

river

112

–

–

Hundu

mountain

63

167

–

Hundu

settlement

VII

168

–

Hundu

territory

–

7

–

Hundu

valley

63

–

–

Hundu

river

63

–

–

Ibumba

mountain

67

–

–

Jamba

mountain

69

–

x

Jamba

settlement

104

–

–

Jaschatu

territory

153

–

–

Jaschatuberge

mountain

65

–

–

Kangangoroka

mountain

62

–

–

|| 34 In the GDKA the name is spelled Gare, the Swahili version of the Sambaa Gale, and also the current standard form of the name. Since Sambaa has no sound represented by the grapheme r, it can be assumed that names comprising the grapheme r are not of Sambaa origin (Dickson Shekivuli, p.c.). See also Steere (1867: 2) whereas Seidel (1895: 1), seemingly erroneously, identifies r, alongside with l, as coronal sound. My personal experience resembles Steere’s affirmation: “L is formed at the back of the mouth, and often resembles an English r” (Steere 1867: 2), whereas Sambaa speakers, when asked, would strictly deny having pronounced an r-sound.

Vorland-Nyika and Kumbamulde | 71

Place name

Geo-object

1890

1891

GDKA

Kasita

settlement

151

–

x

Kigongoi

mountain

64

–

–

Kigongoi

settlement

–

165

–

Kihitu

settlement

76

–

x

Kihuhui

river

–

120

x35

Kihuiro

settlement

VII

3

x

Kilangue

settlement

165

–

–

Kimbo

mountain

75

180

36

Kinko

settlement

109

–

–

Kiranga

settlement

165

–

–

Kisara

settlement

–

168

x

Kiserui

settlement

62

166

–

Kitivo

settlement

69

10

x

Kitivo

territory

–

180

–

Kitivo

river

75

168

x

Komascharu-berg

mountain

77

–

–

Kombola

mountain

VII

166

u

Kombola

settlement

–

166

–

Kombola

territory

–

7

–

Kongoi

mountain

67

–

u

Kongoi

settlement

–

172

–

Kongoi

territory

–

195

–

Korogwe

factory

–

308

–

Korogwe

settlement

VII

3

x

Korogwe

station

119

–

–

Kosoi

river

–

175

x

Kugulunde

settlement

103

175

x

Kumba

river

68

3

37

Kumbathal

valley

VII

169

–

Kumbaufer

river bank

–

172

–

Kwa Kihungui

settlement

–

177

–

|| 35 GDKA: also settlement. 36 GDKA: region (Landschaft) and settlement. 37 GDKA: mountain and settlement.

72 | Marie A. Rieger

Place name

Geo-object

1890

1891

GDKA

Kwa Mhania

settlement

Kwa Schihui

settlement

–

120

–

–

173

–

Kwa Tschaua

settlement

–

163

–

Kwakohafluss

river

53

–

x38

Kwamba

settlement

112

176

–

Kwambakuppe

mountain

112

–

–

Kwambugu

territory

VII

17

–

Kwamongoberg

mountain

100

175

–

Kwasindothal

valley

103

–

x39

Lewa

plantation

42

115

u

Lewa

settlement

–

120

–

Luengera

territory

–

170

–

Luengera

valley

63

5

–

Luengera

river

62

3

x40

Lugulua

settlement

–

177

–

Lukindo

mountain

58

118

–

Lungusa

settlement

–

162

x

Lutindi

mountain

62

168

u

Lutindi

settlement

–

168

–

Magamba

mountain

75

175

x

Magila

mission

54

156

u

Magila

plantation

–

154

–

Magila

settlement

VII

128

–

Magila

territory

–

120

–

Magoda

settlement

69

–

–

Makueli

settlement

–

167

–

Makuelikamm

mountain

75

–

–

Malela

settlement

–

172

–

Maluati

settlement

–

174

–

Mangapuani

settlement

–

167

x41

Maniombe

settlement

–

67

–

|| 38 GDKA: without classifier. 39 Idem. 40 Even if not specified in the index, the name clearly refers to the river (see map n° 21). 41 GDKA: Mangapwani (spelling according to Steere).

Vorland-Nyika and Kumbamulde | 73

Place name

Geo-object

1890

1891

GDKA

Manka

settlement

–

174

x

Maramba

settlement

–

137

x

Maringo

settlement

–

177

x

Maschëua

settlement

67

10

42

Masëua

lake

67

169

–

Masinde

settlement

VII

11

x

Masindeberge

mountain

96

–

–

Mavrui

territory

–

173

–

Mavumbi

mountain

67

171

x43

Mayo

settlement

–

172

–

Mbalu

territory

88

177

–

Mbaramu

settlement

VII

10

x

Mbaramu

territory

–

177

–

Mbaramubach

river

86

178

x44

Mbaramuberg

mountain

75

178

–

Mbusi

settlement

–

175

x

Mgalo

settlement

–

180

–

Mgambo

settlement

–

167

x45

Mgambo

river

69

–

–

Misosuë

mission

–

156

–

Misosuë

territory

–

120

–

Mkalamu

mountain

58

–

–

Mkalamu

settlement

VIII

167

x46

Mkokola

settlement

61

–

–

Mkolo

river

–

172

x

Mkulumusi

valley

–

302

u

Mkulumusi

river

54

3

–

Mkumbara

settlement

VII

10

x

Mkundi

settlement

–

178

x

Mkusu

river

104

175

x

|| 42 GDKA: region (Landschaft). 43 GDKA: also settlement. 44 GDKA: without classifier. 45 GDKA: also region (Landschaft). 46 GDKA: also river.

74 | Marie A. Rieger

Place name

Geo-object

1890

1891

GDKA

Mlago

settlement

Mlalo

mountain

111

176

–

78

162

u

Mlalo

settlement

VII

4

–

Mlalo

valley

107

179

–

Mlangoi

settlement

–

176

x

Mlinga

mountain

54

2

x

Mlulu

river

–

169

–

Mnasi

settlement

–

178

x

Mnola

settlement

75

–

–

Mombo

river

100

3

x

Mombo-mündung

river mouth

–

176

–

Mpai

mountain

–

171

–

Mruasi

settlement

VII

120

x

Msagassa

settlement

–

171

x

Msasa

territory

–

167

x47

Msasaberg

mountain

56

–

–

Mschihui

settlement

154

170

–

Mschihui

territory

67

168

–

Mschihuiberge

mountain

65

10

–

Mschindi

settlement

66

169

x

Msembasi

river

–

19

x

Msembasigebiet

territory

–

165

–

Msosuë

mission

222

–

–

Msosuë

settlement

54

–

–

Mtai

settlement

–

171

x48

Mtai

territory

–

165

–

Mti

settlement

162

162

x49

Muëmtindi

settlement

57

357

x

Mueremwa

river

–

3

x

Mueremwathal

valley

–

169

–

Muhania

settlement

53

–

x

|| 47 GDKA: Msassa. 48 GDKA: also mountain. 49 Idem.

Vorland-Nyika and Kumbamulde | 75

Place name

Geo-object

1890

1891

GDKA

Muine

river

172

–

x

Muinethal

valley

–

173

–

Musi

river

–

164

x

Musigegend

territory

–

164

x50

Musithal

valley

–

164

–

Nguiro

settlement

–

175

x

Ngului

settlement

–

172

51

Niëlo

mountain

VII

–

x

Nigale

mountain

67

–

–

Nkisara

settlement

63

–

–

Nkosoi

river

100

–

–

Pangani

valley

62

6

–

Pangani

river

36

2

x52

Panganiufer

river bank

–

9

–

Pondebach

river

88

178

–

Pondethal

valley

88

–

–

Pungule

settlement

86

179

–

Rusotto

settlement

223

–

u53

Rusotto

valley

109

–

–

Schagaiu

mountain

85

179

x54

Schatu

territory

–

6

x55

Schegescherai

mountain

107

–

–

Schele

territory

78

177

–

Schembekesa

mountain

153

–

u

Schembekesa

settlement

–

167

–

Schumme

territory

–

176

x56

Semauscha

mountain

84

–

–

Semdoëbach

river

61

–

x

|| 50 GDKA: without classifier. 51 GDKA: region (Landschaft). 52 GDKA: also region (Landschaft). 53 GDKA: Rusoto. 54 GDKA: Schageiu. 55 GDKA: Schatus-Land. 56 GDKA: Schume.

76 | Marie A. Rieger

Place name

Geo-object

1890

1891

Seruka Sigi

settlement

–

164

–

territory

61

–

–

Sigi

valley

58

166

–

Sigi

river

56

4

–

Simbili

settlement

–

165

x57

Simuiubach

river

103

–

–

Tanda

settlement

–

172

–

Tarawanda

settlement

VII

11

x58

Tengue

settlement

54

–

x59

Tëue

settlement

85

–

x60

Tschuruihügel

mountain

–

169

x61

Tulii

settlement

–

176

–

Uandani

settlement

75

–

x

Uatëuebach

river

84

–

–

Ubiri

settlement

–

167

x

Ukumbine

river

53

18

–

Ula

mountain

66

–

–

Umba

mission

–

156

–

Umba

settlement

–

117

x

Umba

territory

154

176

–

Umba

river

63

4

x

Umba-Nyika

territory

108

X

x62

Unter-Hundu

settlement

64

–

–

Unter-Mbaramu

settlement

161

–

–

Unter-Mkalamu

settlement

58

–

–

Usambara

mountain

43

VII

u

Usambara

territory

174

–

–

Vorlands-Nyika

territory

–

120

–

Wadiri

river

63

–

–

|| 57 GDKA: also region (Landschaft). 58 GDKA: Tarawande. 59 GDKA: Tengwe (Steere spelling). 60 GDKA: Tewe (Steere spelling). 61 GDKA: without classifier. 62 GDKA: Umba-Njika.

GDKA

Vorland-Nyika and Kumbamulde | 77

Place name

Geo-object

Wadirithal

valley

63

–

–

Wagamobach

river

102-3

–

–

Wuga

mountain

100

–

x

Wuga

settlement

VII

175

x

Wuga 2

settlement

70

–

–

Wugire

territory

151

173

x

Wuruni

territory

–

175

–

Wuruni

river

–

174

u63

Wuruni-mündung

river mouth

–

175

–

Wurunithal

valley

–

174

–

|| 63 GDKA: also Wuruni-Fälle ‘Wuruni falls’.

1890

1891

GDKA

Ingo H. Warnke, Thomas Stolz, Jascha de Bloom and Nataliya Levkovych

Martin Luther at a Pacific harbor Toponymic classifiers and their role in German colonial placemaking Abstract: The paper analyses colonial place names as multi-dimensional linguistic phenomena regarding their function in place-making as well as in displaying different layers of colonial power. Based on extensive toponymic data from the former German colonies, it is shown that three general contradictions of colonialism manifest themselves in the creation of place by means of language. In this respect, the classification of geo-objects via toponymic classifier elements plays an often neglected, yet most relevant part. Regarding the project of Comparative Colonial Toponomastics, the paper argues for closer investigation into areal differences, types of classification, a focus on colonial areas and the obvious relevance of compounds in colonial place-naming. Keywords: contradiction, classifiers, place-making, colonial place names, Comparative Colonial Toponomastics

1 Introduction In this paper we address the issue of whether and how the contradictions which are associated with colonialism in general manifest themselves linguistically in the realm of place-naming and place-making in connection with geo-objects in colonial territories. The empirical data are drawn exclusively from the documented history of German colonial place-naming. Nevertheless, these data can

|| Ingo H. Warnke, University of Bremen, FB 10: German Studies, Universitäts-Boulevard 13, 28359 Bremen, Germany. E-Mail: [email protected] Thomas Stolz, University of Bremen, FB 10: Linguistics/Language Sciences, UniversitätsBoulevard 13, 28359 Bremen, Germany. E-Mail: [email protected] Jascha de Blom, University of Bremen, FB 10: Linguistics/Language Sciences, UniversitätsBoulevard 13, 28359 Bremen, Germany. E-Mail: [email protected] Nataliya Levkovych, University of Bremen, FB 10: Linguistics/Language Sciences, UniversitätsBoulevard 13, 28359 Bremen, Germany. E-Mail: [email protected] https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-005

80 | Ingo H. Warnke et al.

be considered to be representative of the major characteristics of European colonial place-naming at large. Our contribution is situated within the research program of Koloniallinguistik (= Colonial Linguistics) as outlined in Dewein et al. (2012) and Postcolonial Language Studies as sketched in Warnke et al. (2016). More specifically, it constitutes a further step in our joined project on Comparative Colonial Toponomastics (= CoCoTop) which we have occasion to refer to repeatedly in the main body of this paper. Further references as to theory, methodology, and linguistic background are given at the appropriate places in the subsequent sections. The paper is organized as follows: in Section 2, we argue that colonialism can be correlated with three types of contradictions. To substantiate our point, we introduce three triads of concepts in Section 3 which are crucial for properly analyzing the toponymic facts that are of interest for our line of argumentation. Section 4 and its subsections are dedicated to the qualitative and quantitative analysis of the toponymic data from the Großer Deutscher Kolonialatlas (= GDKA), i.e. the major contemporary cartographic source of the former German colonial empire. Section 4 also serves the purpose of identifying future tasks which CoCoTop will have to attend to. The conclusions are drawn in Section 5 where we highlight the bearing our (basically linguistic) findings have on the (basically non-linguistic) concept of contradiction.

2 Colonialism and three types of contradiction There are various attempts to locate colonialism in academic discourses (cf. Conrad 2013: 119–125). What all of these approaches share is emphasizing only certain aspects of colonialism without ever being able to fully grasp what colonial power is in its entirety. This inability results from a manifold complexity of contradictory conditions of colonialism. In order to delineate the main objective of our study we need to refer to three of these contradictions. This allows us to derive three analytical tools which serve to comprehend and describe colonial place names. We identify three types of contradiction because there are three important layers of colonial power: colonial dimensions, actions, and representations (cf. Busse and Warnke 2015). It is obvious that colonialism should be understood as dimensional because it is a geopolitical, imperialistic expansion of power. Colonial projects of expansion are also connected with a reflective, self-centered assurance and authorization of power; the existence of colonies is always conditional on the existence of a metropolis. Striving for power overseas always means striving for power in the metropolis. The process of winning power over others entails not being subject-

Martin Luther at a Pacific harbor | 81

ed by others. Colonial expansion and self-centeredness in the metropolis constitute one another in various, complex, and contradictory scenarios. This is the first field in which contradictions can be described. Besides this dimensional antagonism and factors connected to it, an actional layer gains importance. Colonial actions create perhaps the gravest paradox in the colonial project: the concurrent legitimization of violence against and acceptance of others, of exploitation and aid, of a mission to oppress and to civilize, of practices of economic plundering that go hand in hand with the willful assertion of developmental assistance. The actional contradiction in colonialism and racism, for instance, leads to the figuration of the grateful slave in which the colonized are oppressed and simultaneously expected to be grateful (cf. Boulukos 2008, Junker 2016: 21). Contradicting actions in colonialism are numerous, constitutive, and cynical. A third contradictory condition of colonialism manifests itself as a contradiction of representations. The colonial imaginary, the generic framing of colonialism, the whole complex of semiotic representations of colonialism is marked by a composite cancelling out of the distinction between closeness and distance. In colonialism, what is close remains distant, and at the same time, the distance seems close; great distances get cancelled out, closeness is forced on colonized subjects. On the one hand, the colonized are segregated and kept at a distance, on the other hand, they get exhibited in the metropolis where they are examined as part of a conquered world. The colonial world diminishes and magnifies the colonized in different discourse of a broad and multiformal “colonial archive” (Errington 2008: 1–2). Dimensional, actional, and representational contradictions determine the colonial exertion of power. It is the inward retention of power that shapes the politics of outward expansion. This so-called social imperialism may not solely suffice to explain colonialism (cf. Schöllgen 2000: 143–44). But it is obvious that this kind of a contradictory relation between the inside and the outside exists. Accordingly, the subjection of the colonized performs “acts of paradoxical recognition” (Dreesen 2014: 1). Colonialism is the realization of these three types of contradiction in a project of the global and exploitative expansion of powerful metropolises. There are no easy answers to this modern constellation of global history. There are no concluding definitions of colonialism. However, we can come up with openended attempts at reflecting on and explaining colonialism between the poles of sober definitions and affective expressions of dismay to grasp what colonialism means in terms of dimension, action, and representation. For instance, Emerson (1969: 3) defines Western colonialism laconically as “the imposition of white

82 | Ingo H. Warnke et al.

rule on alien peoples inhabiting lands separated by salt water from the imperial centre” – in contrast, Loomba (1998: 2) shows dismay when she identifies different forms of colonialism as “the most complex and traumatic relationships in human history.” We could locate Osterhammel and Jansen (2012: 18–19) between these poles, defining colonialism with respect to features and attempting to reflect on practices of external control, dissociation, and ideologizing as starting points for their own understanding and explanations of colonialism. We take up the contradictory relations of dimension, action, and representation and the spectrum of approaches including definition, expression of dismay, and reflection as starting points for our own analyses of toponymic classifiers in the colonial place name (= CPN). One decision is of importance here: our preliminary approach is purely descriptive, no more, no less. We are aware that every description depends on perspective and that there is no absolute neutrality and objectivity; however, description and documentation are tremendous assets in scholarly practice. Description, therefore, marks the beginning of our endeavor. We seek to consider all three layers relevant to the formation of contradiction because colonialism creates a world of contradiction (cf. Junker and Warnke 2016). In an abstract way, we understand our contribution as the description of linguistic features of colonial dimensions, actions, and representations in a colonial world of contradiction. From the huge array of relative pieces of linguistic evidence, we choose CPNs purposefully because they show that colonial dimensions, actions, and representations are interlaced as place-identification, place-naming, and place-making. We intend, then, to contribute to the study of the colonial project of making place through names by way of highlighting the potential of linguistic description and documentation.

3 Place-identification, place-naming, and placemaking in a colonial world of contradiction 3.1 Generalities We have already addressed the relevance of CoCoTop in a data-driven way elsewhere. We therefore refer our readers for general matters of our project to these publications (Stolz and Warnke 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018a, 2018b, 2019; Stolz et al. 2016). It is the goal of CoCoTop to analyze practices of the naming of geoobjects in former colonial areas with respect to structural and functional aspects of toponomastics. In this context, CoCoTop describes and analyzes Euro-

Martin Luther at a Pacific harbor | 83

colonial and, in the future other kinds of colonial naming practices in a systematic and comparative way. CoCoTop is a central part of Postcolonial Language Studies because it considers important spatial practices of colonialism as modes of linguistic appropriation through naming. In addition, CoCoTop integrates the layers of dimension, action, and representation in a systematic approach to the analysis of naming. Construing colonialism as a nexus between dimensional expansion in space, occupation of space as action, and a representational usurpation of space, these three layers of colonialism correspond to the colonial identification of places, the colonial naming of places, and the colonial making of places in the context of representations of coloniality (cf. Quijano 2000: 533). We therefore define the objects of study of CoCoTop as follows: a) References to places through toponymic identification: what places in the colonies are considered worthy of naming through CPNs? b) Toponymic structures of place-names: how are places named, which internal structure do CPNs have? c) Functions of naming in relation to semantic modifications: which semantic concepts are integrated in CPNs? We correlate the three layers of colonialism in a systematic way with three toponomastic concepts and, moreover, with three specific bundles of data: the abstract layers of colonialism (dimension, action, representation) correspond, in our methodology, to three layers of toponomastic concepts (place-identification, place-naming, place-making) and to three layers of toponomastic data (toponymic referents, toponymic structures, toponymic functions) as shown in Figure 1. Layers of Colonialism dimension action representation

Layers of Toponomastic Concepts place-identification place-naming place-making

Layers of Toponomastic Data toponymic referents toponymic structures toponymic functions

Figure 1: Methodological Framework of Comparative Colonial Toponomastics (CoCoTop).

Place-naming and place-making are of primary interest for the linguistic analysis of toponyms and, accordingly, toponymic structures and functions of CPNs. Place-identification and toponymic referents, respectively, are more important for cartography and geography. However, linguistics too is interested in placeidentification as far as the question of how place-names are distributed in space is concerned. We can therefore determine three different types of data for each CPN: toponymic referents can be described by means of coordinates, toponymic

84 | Ingo H. Warnke et al.

structures by means of structure-related classifications, and toponymic functions by means of semantic concepts. We illustrate this with an example of the German CPN Luther-Hafen (PACIFIC), to which the main title of our paper refers. Luther-Hafen is located on Umboi, an island off the coast of Kaiser-Wilhelmsland, i.e. the mainland part of Deutsch-Neuguinea (= German New Guinea); Maximilian Krieger reports that the indigenous population completely deserted Luther-Hafen because of the great flood wave on 13 March, 1888 (Krieger 1899/ 2013: 128–129). We can identify Luther-Hafen with respect to its dimension by way of a) the coordinates 5°28’18’’S and 147°46’11’’E, b) with respect to its actional layer of colonialism as place-naming with the compositional structure [{DETANTH}-{CLASSFUNC}]CPN the technical aspects of which will be explained in Section 3.2 below, c) and with respect to the representational layer as a specific form of placemaking by way of the specific fillers {LutherANTH}DET and {HafenCN}CLASS. On the one hand, these fillers realize the compositional structure with a personalized, denominational concept of European and, more specifically, German religious history {LutherANTH}DET in the position of an anthroponymic determiner. On the other hand, this is achieved via the naming of a natural-environmental location in the function of a harbor (German {HafenCN}CLASS) in the position of function classifier, and thus as an essential condition of colonial practice. Figure 2 recapitulates our observations on Luther-Hafen. Layers of Toponomastic Data

Example

toponymic referent

5°28’18’’S and 147°46’11’’E

toponymic structure

[{DETANTH}-{CLASSFUNC}]CPN

toponymic function

LUTHERDET HAFENCLASS

Figure 2: Layers of colonial toponyms.

The three layers of colonialism generally and the contradictions connected to them need to be scrutinized more closely. For the project of CoCoTop, they relate to the fact that CPNs are indices of the arrogation of the right of naming on the part of European agents who not only leave traces on colonial space but also fortify the position of cartographers and naming agents in the metropolis. Colonial acts of naming unquestionably relate to the professionalization of cartography and geography in overseas areas (Hafeneder 2008). But what is noteworthy here is that it seems the colonizers frequently accept indigenous names. They do not always Europeanize space through names, as CPNs like Abossi

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(DOA), or Yorogobundi (TOGO) show. We can find numerous place-names on colonial maps which look endonymic to the European eye. However, “it is doubtful whether the putatively autochthonous place-names result from genuinely local traditions of place naming or have been imposed by the colonial authorities” (Stolz and Warnke 2018a: 53). Not least because of the European transliteration into the Latin alphabet, supposed endonyms can be identified more appropriately as “pseudo-endonyms (aka indigenoids)” (Stolz and Warnke 2018a: 53). The recognition of indigenous naming traditions is indeed questionable. This is also the case for endonyms which provide a constituent to hybrid constructions, such as the following German CPNs in Africa (with the putatively endonymic element in bold): Groß-Boadibo (KAM), Klein-Abobo (TOGO), Agagesi-Berge (DOA) or Awasib-Berge (DSWA). In addition to the aspect of pseudoendonymic indigenoids, these examples show particularly well the partial recognition of indigenous naming traditions. Not least, with reference to the way in which the distinction between closeness and distance is resolved, we assume that CPNs frequently realize European toponymic patterns. It is most likely that CPNs do not differ crucially from metropolitan patterns in terms of their structure and function. Differences may only relate to schematic preferences of binary compositional construction types. From these considerations on the status of place-identification, placenaming, and place-making, we develop three general research questions: a) Which colonial agents use which techniques of naming in which colonial areas? This question focuses on colonial powers and the geographic distribution of their colonial place-identification strategies. b) Which types of putative recognition of pre-colonial practices can be described? This question focuses on the description of the relationship between exonyms, endonyms, and hybrid constructions. c) Can we speak of specific semantic naming representations of colonial places or is colonialism rather characterized by conceptualizing distant spaces as near places? These questions can only be answered in the framework of CoCoTop to which we have already contributed (e.g. in Stolz et al. 2016). In Section 3.2, we seek to focus on what superficially may appear to be only of marginal importance to the project, viz. CPNs in the German colonial toponomasticon.

3.2 The German case The bulk of German CPNs is representative of the general picture that emerges from a survey of European CPNs in general. The majority of German CPNs dis-

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plays a complex compositional structure which most often comes in a binary format. This format can be captured by the formula [{DET}-{CLASS}]CPN from which the above example of [{LutherANTH}DET-{HafenCN}CLASS]CPN is derived. The head of the construction is the classifier (= CLASS) which is modified by the determiner (= DET). The CPNs of this type correspond to the internal structure of German compounds in general (Eisenberg 2013: 217–224) and look like ordinary German toponyms as registered in the metropolis (Nübling et al. 2015: 80). For the purpose of a linguistic analysis of CPNs, we employ the term classifier in accordance with Anderson (2007: 106), who argues that “the taxonomy of place names (in particular) is made overt in their internal structure [by] descriptive terms, ‘classifiers’ in onomastic parlance,” i.e., the classifiers are indicative of the ontological class to which a given geo-object is usually allocated. Like all of the European colonizer languages, German does not count among the prototypical classifier languages which make use of numeral classifiers, for instance, so that the complete absence of references to German from the relevant chapters in Aikhenvald’s (2000: 81–241) cross-linguistic study of classification systems is largely unsurprising. What strikes us as particularly interesting is the fact that the typologically unexpected classifiers gain prominence precisely in the realm of CPNs not only in German but also in other colonizer languages like Dutch, English, French, Italian, Portuguese, Russian, and Spanish. In what way toponymic classifiers can be integrated in the general category of classifiers, if at all, is a topic the discussion of which we have to relegate to a dedicated follow-up study (Stolz and Levkovych forthcoming). The focus of our subsequent analyses is on those CPNs which contain a classifier. Our database is the corpus of CPNs of the German colonial period from 1901 to 1915 as documented in the GDKA, compiled by Paul Sprigade and Max Moisel for the German Colonial Department of the Ministry of the Exterior. The extended reprint edition of 2002 includes the originally missing maps of Deutsch-Südwestafrika [German South-West Africa]. We determine the distribution of the above type of CPNs for the following five divisions of the German colonial empire according to the distinctions made in the indexes of the GDKA: Togo (= TOGO), Kamerun [Cameroon] (= KAM), Deutsch-Südwestafrika [German South-West Africa] (= DSWA), Deutsch-Ostafrika [German East Africa] (= DOA), and the Pacific Area (= PACIFIC) which comprises the lease-territory Kiautschou, Deutsch-Neuguinea [German New Guinea] (including the Marianas, the Carolines, Palau, Yap, and the Marshall Islands), and Samoa. Both components of the binary construction type are of interest. Determiners for instance deserve to be studied closely because they seem to fix European and imperial concepts in an obvious way. In our example, Luther-Hafen (PACIF-

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IC) the determiner {LutherANTH} DET exerts this function. Similar cases are e.g. Bismarck-Riff (DOA), Kaiser Wilhelm-Spitze (DOA), Lüderitzbucht (DSWA), whose determiners refer to prominent personalities of the metropolis. In Stolz and Warnke (2019) and Stolz et al. (2016) it is shown empirically to what extent the European colonizers agree as to their choice of determiners so that the comprehensive semantic classification of determiners in CPNs is an important goal of CoCoTop. In contrast to determiners, relatively little attention has been paid to classifiers so far. That is why, in this study, we focus on the analysis of classifiers in colonial place names to demonstrate that classifiers are as important to CoCoTop as determiners are. In the above, we have framed our considerations of CoCoTop very broadly. To avoid falling prey to “general theory” (cf. Connell 2007: 28), we strictly adhere to a data-based analysis of a special feature of CPNs. In this way, our paper can be understood as a plea for an inductive and empirically well-founded linguistic analysis of place-identification, place-naming, and place-making not only in CoCoTop but also in the larger framework of Colonial Linguistics.

4 Patterns and distribution of classifiers in complex German colonial place-names The identification of spatial coordinates, the construction of names for these, and the toponymic projections of semantic categories onto space are what we can call, with Porter (2016: 76) “formative activities” in the project of colonial planning. In the case of settler colonies, which Porter (2016: 76) analyzes, she notes that spatial categorization is a colonial practice: “A formation of spatial categories (improved or waste lands, the use of value of natural features) homogenized space into a schema of general but fragmented characteristics.” Our first example, the German CPN Luther-Hafen in the Province of Morobe on Rook Island (Umboi Island, aka Sir George Rook Island, Papua New Guinea), displays the expected binary structure. Both of the components of the CPN Luther-Hafen are indicative of possibilities of colonial place-making – two very different possibilities, that is. Starting with the anthroponymic determiner {LutherANTH}DET it is obvious that European values are coded in the CPN. The family name does not only refer to Martin Luther (1483–1546) as a person, that is, the central Early Modern reformer whose significance for the history of Christian denominations is of crucial importance. Luther is also an emblem of German

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Protestantism in general and this way a pars pro toto for an important group of colonial circles. Secondly, it is no coincidence that in the region surrounding Finschhafen (PACIFIC) and also, 80 miles away, on Umboi Island (PACIFIC) the Lutheran Neuendettelsauer Missionsgesellschaft (PACIFIC) was active under the leadership of Johann Gottlieb Flierl (Mückler 2010: 90). This goes to show that the region was of importance in the history of missions. On Map 1 (cf. Appendix), we can see that Luther-Hafen was previously named Porto San Isidoro = [{PortoCN}CLASS {San IsidoroANTH}DET]CPN. This Italian toponym was introduced prior to the establishment of German colonial rule in the 1850s when the Seminario Missionari Estero Milano started an ill-fated attempt at missionizing the island of Umboi. The Catholic missionaries left their claim as early as 1855 (Mückler 2010: 82). What remained of their endeavor is the above toponym which refers to San Isidoro/Saint Isidore. It only seems logical that this relic of a short-lived adventure of their Catholic competitors impelled the Protestant missionaries to replace the Italian toponym with one that honors the founding father of their creed. This ideologically motivated toponymic renaming does not only show different theological moments in the colonization of space (cf. the case of SaintLouis in Senegal [Stolz and Warnke 2016]). It also points to the fact that the function of the place as a harbor is marked in both toponyms with Italian {PortoCN}DET = German {HafenCN}DET ‘harbor’. The classification of the place as harbor remains constant. The common nouns with the meaning of harbor, as constituent of a complex CPN, may not seem to be especially colonial. However, we assume that classifiers in complex CPNs are part of colonialism when they indicate certain ideas, namely those useful for European colonizers and for the colonial perception of space in general. Luther-Hafen resp. Porto San Isidoro are CPNs not least because they are manifestations of place-making, a kind of place-making that shows a functional perception of natural space which goes hand in hand with an interest in shipping as a crucially economic and military colonial practice of claiming space. There is no doubt that harbors are significant for the project of European colonialism. Knoll and Hiery (2010: 225) elaborate on this point with reference to the example of German colonialism in German New Guinea: Harbors played a key role in the transport of goods and people to and from the colonies, in projecting Germany’s military power in times of need, and in linking the diverse portions of the overseas empire with the fatherland. (...) German New Guinea possessed a number of harbors as did Kaiser Wilhelmsland where the existence of coral reefs created bays and hence harbors.

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Of the altogether 2,847 German CPNs which have at least one German constituent, no less than 3.6 % involve the classifier Hafen; e.g. Sandfisch-Hafen (DSWA), Kilwa-Kissiwani-Hafen (DOA), or Braunschweig-Hafen (PACIFIC). The distribution over the colonial territories varies. This variation confirms what Knoll and Hiery (2010: 225) note with respect to the divergent importance of harbors in German colonial areas. In Togo, not a single CPN with the classifier Hafen can be found. In Cameroon, Kriegsschiff-Hafen (lit. ‘War Ship Harbor’) is possibly not a CPN but may better be understood as a descriptive common noun; even if in this reading Hafen would be considered a classifier. In the German colonial areas in the Pacific, we can identify 93 % of all CPNs equipped with the classifier {HafenCN}DET. Figure 3 provides a schematic overview over the absolute number of tokens of CPNs which involve {HafenCN}DET. TOGO

KAM

PACIFIC

 CPN

1 CPN

95 CPN DOA 5 CPN

DSWA 1 CPN Figure 3: Absolute number of German CPNs with the constituent {HafenCN}CLASS in GDKA.

Not only can the semantically charged determiner be understood as an indicator of place-making, then, but the analysis of the classifiers also provides important insights into the colonial validation of space (cf. Stolz and Warnke 2015: Section 6.3.1.2.1, Stolz and Warnke 2018b: fn. 7). What is important to us here with respect to the three layers of colonialism and the toponomastic concepts of dimension (place-identification), action (place-naming), and representation (placemaking), respectively, is the analysis of complex macro-toponymic CPNs with at least one German constituent, in combination with the question of what kind of space is classified through place-names in the German colonial sphere.

4.1 How colonial space is classified by place-names To this end we first examine the distribution of structural types of CPNs over German colonial territories. Table 1 (see Appendix) suggests that it is possible to distinguish four types A–D:

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(1)

TYPE A TYPE B TYPE C TYPE D

CPN as simplex (e.g. Busch (PACIFIC), Kranz (DSWA), Pütz (DSWA)) CPN as derivative (e.g. Neulinge (PACIFIC), Hoffnung (DSWA), Däumlinge (PACIFIC)) CPN as compound (e.g. Adolfhafen (PACIFIC), Ant-Inseln (PACIFIC), Bobosberg (DSWA)), and CPN as phrase (e.g. Kap Bredow (PACIFIC), Liebliche Inseln (PACIFIC), Schwarzer Nusob (DSWA)).

It is important to note for TYPE D that we strictly refer to the orthographic form of the CPN. Further analyses will have to show whether this serves as a firm foundation for CoCoTop. The present analysis assumes, however, that the separate spelling of words in German CPNs should not be analyzed as compounds. For instance, Credner Inseln (PACIFIC) is therefore not analyzed as a compound (≈ *Crednerinseln, Credner-Inseln) but as a phrase. It can immediately be seen that the vast majority (2,182 = 76.64%) of all CPNs (2,847) in the GDKA contains at least one German name constituent and thus belongs to TYPE C (compounds). This statistically robust turnout justifies that an analysis of classifiers should focus on compositional structures. Table 1 also shows that the remaining types are by no means marginal in the German colonial empire. What is obvious is that TYPE A (CPN as simplex) is aboveaverage in DSWA. TYPE B (CPN as derivative), though with far less attestations, exceeds the average in the PACIFIC. Most importantly, we see that TYPE D (phrasal CPN) is above-average in PACIFIC and below-average in TOGO. But if we indeed concentrate on compounds, Table 1 shows an interestingly uneven distribution of this CPN category. For DSWA and KAM, the occurrence of compounds is average, in DOA and in TOGO, their turnout is above-average, whereas in PACIFIC they are below-average. There are thus clear areal preferences. On the one hand, they point to different naming practices in Africa and in PACIFIC, on the other hand, we can undoubtedly see that there is no one colonial placenaming practice but an array of different practices. From this basis we deduce a first future task for CoCoTop: #1: Colonial Place Names and their different structures should be analyzed with respect to their specific areal distribution We thus examine the areal distribution of constructions with classifiers as shown in Table 2 (see Appendix). Classifiers in the strict sense of the term occur in TYPE C (CPN as compound) and TYPE D (phrasal CPN). For the latter we identify constructions such as [{BuchtCN}CLASS {von LaburTOP}DET]CPN (PACIFIC), Credner Inseln (PACIFIC), and [{KapCN}CLASS {ToroTOP}DET]CPN (PACIFIC), with {BuchtCN}CLASS ‘bay’, {InselnCN}CLASS ‘islands’, and {KapCN}CLASS ‘cape’ as classifiers. Type D corresponds to the possible

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but not realized constructions analogous to Type C Bucht von Labur ≈ *Laburbucht, Credner Inseln ≈ *Crednerinseln, Kap Toro ≈ *Torokap. For TYPE A (CPN as simplex), one may argue that CPNs like Pütz (DSWA, likely in the meaning of ‘waterhole’) are instances of auto-classifiers (aka repeaters), i.e. of morphemes which can occur on their own without an accompanying classifier because they are already indicative of their ontological class (Aikhenvald 2000: 361–362). Auto-classifiers can function as toponymic classifiers in constructions with a determiner (as in the Afrikaans-German hybrid Blompütz (DSWA) = [{blomCN}DET{pützCN}CLASS]CPN (lit. ‘flower (= Afrikaans bloom) waterhole’). As a result, we have to expect that the number of CPNs with a classifier is higher than that of the CPNs of TYPE C. This is precisely what the data show us in Table 2. The calculated mean of 98.54% is extremely high. The deviation shows only a narrow range beyond the standard deviation of σ 1.42% for TOGO. TOGO is an area which is characterized not only by above-average occurrence but also by 100% of all CPNs being equipped with a classifier. DSWA on the other hand displays belowaverage occurrence with a share of 96.20% of all CPNs being equipped with a classifier. This range of variation notwithstanding, it is evident that the CPNs are formed predominantly with a classifier. This predominance is the basis for deducing a second task for future work in the framework of CoCoTop: #2: The analysis of types of classification is a central part of all analyses of colonial toponomastics The minute analysis of the classification of space via classifiers is of interest with reference to all three layers of our methodological framework. By correlating different semantically-based classifiers with their distribution across the German colonial empire, we obtain important insights into the colonial practices of spatial appropriation through language. This covers the foundational question of what is perceived as a namable place, which places are identified and referenced through CPNs, and which structures are used in processes of place-naming. Finally, it also addresses the issue of which semantic concepts are used for place-making. We discuss these questions for German CPNs in some detail in Section 4.1.1.

4.1.1 What kind of places are identified? Table 3 displays the distribution of CLASS-categories in colonial areas. The examination of Table 3 (see Appendix) reveals that there are five types of classification or related strategies the most frequent type (73.63%) of which is that which involves a geographic classifier (= GEO-CLASS). CPNs with GEO-

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CLASS identify geographic features as parts of names. They belong to the perception of geography and situate place in a specific classificatory way. The following CPNs are examples of formations with GEO-CLASS (GEO-CLASS constituent in bold type; geographic category in small caps): Koga-Berge (DOA; ‘mountains’; MOUNTAINS), Lefaga-Bucht (PACIFIC; ‘bay’; BAY), Manga-See (DOA; ‘lake’; LAKE), Sandrücken (DSWA1; ‘rear’), Santa Rosa-Riff (PACIFIC; ‘reef’; REEF), Südfels (DSWA; ‘rock’) GEO-CLASS of this kind are common nouns with space-related semantics. They merely capture geographical features and categorize them. It cannot be taken for granted that GEO-CLASS are universal. Independent of their doubtful universality, they correspond to European habitualized modes of perception. It is noteworthy that function classifiers (= FUNC-CLASS) occur much less frequently (15.72%) than GEO-CLASS. A FUNC-CLASS focuses on spatial properties with reference to its possible uses. The following six CPNs are examples of this type (FUNC-CLASS in bold type): Adolfhafen (PACIFIC; ‘harbor’; SETTLEMENT), Arangel-Fahrwasser (PACIFIC; ‘channel’; CHANNEL), Campo-Station (KAM; ‘station’; SETTLEMENT), GazelleKanal (PACIFIC; ‘canal’; CANAL), Luisenhof (DSWA; ‘estate’), Peterswerft (DOA; ‘shipyard’; SHIPYARD) We have already introduced the construction with FUNC-CLASS giving the example of Luther-Hafen (PACIFIC) above. FUNC-CLASSs are also common nouns originally. However, they do not refer in a direct way to spatial properties but to their potential functions and to the possible utilization of space. There is a third kind of classification which is much less common than the types mentioned above. Owing to the specific properties of this third kind, it is not possible to subsume it under the umbrella of classifier-based CPNs. The seeming problematic is that of complex CPNs which involve a toponym as head. We term this constituent as toponymic reference (= TOPO-REF). In this case, we are faced with a pre-existing toponym which is specified through the addition of an adjectival determiner like Alt- ‘old’ or Neu- ‘new’, Groß- ‘big, great’, or Klein- ‘little, small’ of which we provide the following six examples (TOPO-REF in bold type):

|| 1 Since the GDKA does not contain an index for DSWA, it is difficult to identify single geoobjects on the maps unequivocally. Therefore, the geographic category of CPNs from DSWA is not provided here.

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Alt-Borae (TOGO; SETTLEMENT) Alt-Ngongo (KAM; SETTLEMENT) Klein-Komasarab (DSWA) Klein-Fu tau (PACIFIC; ISLAND) West-Karolinen (PACIFIC; ISLANDS) Nord-Pare (DOA; MOUNTAINS)

vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs. vs.

Neu-Borae (TOGO; SETTLEMENT) Neu-Ngongo (KAM; SETTLEMENT) Groß-Komasarab (DSWA) Gross-Fu tau (PACIFIC; ISLAND) Ost-Karolinen (PACIFIC; ISLANDS) Süd-Pare (DOA; MOUNTAINS) Mittel-Pare (DOA; MOUNTAINS)

TOPO-REFs are proper nouns which are modified by a determiner. The presence of the determiner invokes the possibility that TOPO-REFs represent a special type of CLASS. This issue, however, is still largely controversial and thus cannot be solved satisfactorily in this study. Furthermore, Table 3 gives evidence also of the heterogeneous category of diverse descriptors (= DIV). The following cases belong to this category (DIV in bold type), which we understand as a residual class of mixed composition: Bergfrieden (DOA; dated, in the sense of ‘fortification’; SETTLEMENT), Bienenkörbe (PACIFIC; ‘hives’; ISLANDS), Eselsohren (PACIFIC; ‘ears’; MOUNTAINS), Nordsohn (PACIFIC; ‘son’; MOUNTAIN), Wüstenkönig (DSWA; ‘king’), Zuckerhut (PACIFIC; ‘(sugar)loaf’, lit. ‘hat’; MOUNTAIN) Constructions with -sohn ‘son’, -tochter ‘daughter’ (as well as -vater ‘father’ and -mutter ‘mother’) are used to denote systems of neighboring mountaintops. In case of an X-sohn, this CPN shows indexically that there is an X-vater. Vater, Nord- and Südsohn ‘north and south son’ form a mountain range from north to south on Neupommern, with Vater in the center. The same holds for Mutter ‘mother’, Nord- and Südtochter ‘north and south daughter’. In this case, the mountain range is situated from north-west to south-east on Krater-Halbinsel (in the north-eastern part of Gazelle-Halbinsel, PACIFIC). Again, Mutter is located centrally. In the case of -ohren ‘ears’, -körbe ‘baskets’, -hut ‘hat’, etc., we might assume a FORM-CLASS because the classifiers could reflect ‘physiological’ features of geo-objects. -könig ‘king’ lets us assume that it denotes a highly visible geo-object. But in contrast to constructions with GEO-CLASS and FUNCCLASS, these CPNs are singular cases. While the frequent GEO-CLASS identifies spatial properties and the frequent FUNC-CLASS identifies possibilities of spatial use, all constructions with DIV comprise too few types and tokens to allow an analysis of their systematicity; CoCoTop could pursue this on a broader basis of data. The motif of naming in TOPO-REFs, however, can be interpreted as manifesting references to existing places. The DIV presents us with perceptions of space beyond the conventionalized modes of the production of place.

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The last class in Table 3 is marked as Ø. We recognize a small number of cases in which bare common nouns, DPs, or bare proper names are used without additional morphological material. This construction type can be understood either as a transfer of names or as an onymic variant of common nouns. The following examples illustrate the Ø-cases: Bremen (DSWA), Die Brüste (KAM; ‘the breasts’; MOUNTAINS), Paradies (DSWA; ‘paradise’), Pommern (DSWA), Vater (PACIFIC; ‘father’; MOUNTAIN), Wiese (DSWA; ‘meadow’) If we look at the distribution of frequency in Table 3, we notice a quantitative hierarchy according to the decreasing frequency of the above five categories, namely: (2)

GEO-CLASS > FUNC-CLASS > TOPO-REF > Ø > DIV.

CoCoTop has to check whether this hierarchy is confirmed by the data from the toponomasticons of the other European colonizers. Another important finding reflected by Table 3 is the quantitative variation of the frequency of CLASScategories in relation to their distribution over colonies. For reasons of space, we exclusively examine the main classes GEO-CLASS, FUNC-CLASS, and TOPOREF, which cover more than 96% of all CPNs with CLASS. The category of GEOCLASS is the most frequent in all colonial territories. We can already deduce from the data that the dimensional identification of natural space is at the center of German colonial naming practices. An outstanding case here is DSWA, with only 44.59% of the CPNs falling into the category of GEO-CLASS. This is a clear case of below-average frequency. An explanation for the low frequency of CPNs of the category of GEO-CLASS and the correlating above-average frequency of CPNs with FUNC-CLASS may be that DSWA “was envisioned becoming a settler colony” (Conrad 2012: 103). In a settler colony, functions could be of more importance than geographic dimensions: “In most German colonies the German element was only a fraction of the total population. And there existed only a handful of German women. The only exception was Southwest Africa” (Knoll and Hiery 2010: 367). We can thus interpret the quantitative finding of Table 3 with respect to the history of settlements (cf. Stolz and Warnke 2018b). In this sense, we want to take note of a further future task for CoCoTop: #3: The distribution of CLASS-categories should be analyzed in relation to the distribution of CPNs in colonial areas. It will be a specific task to study in comparative ways if settler colonies are identified as functional rather than geographic space

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The case of Togo in Table 3 shows yet another noteworthy distribution of frequency. In Togo, the category of TOPO-REF occurs far above-average. Place in Togo is produced by means of adding an adjectival modifier to a pre-existing toponym. This practice holds for nearly a quarter of all of the CPNs in this colony. There are four types of determiners with an obvious antonymic relation: {AltADJ-}DET ‘old’, {NeuADJ-}DET ‘new’, {GroßADJ-}DET ‘big, great’, and {KleinADJ-}DET ‘little, small’. Of 213 macrotoponyms with at least one German constituent, 25 CPNs belong to the category of TOPO-REF. Examples from Togo are: Alt-Borae Alt-Dugba Alt-Heingba Alt-Kadjamba

Groß-Abobo Groß-Be Groß-Bupasibe Groß-Dentu Groß-Kalanga Groß-Kumongu (Ort) Groß-Manduri Groß-Nansoni Groß-Sunson

Neu-Borae

Neu-Akroso Neu-Tschundere Klein-Abobo Klein-Be Klein-Bupasibe Klein-Dentu Klein-Kalanga Klein-Kumongu (Ort) Klein-Manduri Klein-Nansoni Klein-Sunson

Moreover, all of these TOPO-REF-constituents are indigenoids. The identification of colonial space in Togo results from the recognition of pre-existing places which are modified merely by the simple means of determination with the above adjectival modifiers as part of the colonial order of space. While this construction frequently occurs in Togo, it is used below-average in PACIFIC (1.67%). We thus see that Table 3 provides important clues about different practices of spatial identification. In the German case, the main forms of placeidentification through CPNs manifest perspectives on a) geographical formations, b) functional formations, and c) places that are already named or settled. Despite these differences in the distribution of frequency, primary placeidentification in all of the German colonial territories is achieved by means of GEO-CLASSs (cf. Figure 4):

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TOGO

KAM

PACIFIC

71.43 % CPN

67.23 % CPN

81.15 % CPN

in GEO-CLASS

in GEO-CLASS

in GEO-CLASS DOA 84.45 % CPN in GEO-CLASS

DSWA 44.59 % CPN in GEO-CLASS Figure 4: Dominance of CPNs in GEO-CLASS in GDKA.

4.1.2 Which toponymic structures correlate with which place-naming activity? With reference to the three layers of colonialism, it results from the above that space in German colonialism is identified primarily as geographical space. The different distributions of CPNs may correlate with specific features of respective colonial areas. The next layer to examine is that of action. Our linguistic interest in this layer focuses on place-naming and, correspondingly, on toponymic structures. Our research question is: which structures correlate with which CLASScategories, and what the results mean. We refer to TYPE A–D as introduced in (1) above: in what follows, we refer to Table 4 (see Appendix) and to the hierarchy mentioned in (2). We have two possibilities of relating the data: we could analyze the CPN-categories relative to the amount of CPNs with a specific structure (rel nSTR) or relative to the amount of all CPNs (rel nTOT). We suggest that we concentrate on the relation nSTR, that is, on the percentage of a CLASS-category relating to the structure types A–D. Table 4 shows that 79.73% of all phrasal constructions (TYPE D) and 73.28% of all compounds (TYPE C) belong to GEO-CLASS. Moreover, it is shown that the GEO-CLASS is by far the most frequently used CLASS-category for this construction type. The relation nTOT furthermore shows that the GEO-CLASS with compound (TYPE C) is the dominant case. Concerning FUNC-CLASS, the compound structure (TYPE C) even occurs above-average. The same is valid for TOPO-REF and DIV. If we discount the infrequent cases of Ø with their preference for CPNs as simplex (TYPE A), a preference for the compound structure TYPE C emerges which reaches beyond the FUNC-CLASS. The preference of compounds is thus largely independent from CLASS-categories. Compounding is the form of place-naming in colonial con-

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texts in the German case. From this result we can deduce the following research task for CoCoTop: #4: It should be analyzed whether colonial place-naming generally occurs in compositional structures We therefore want to sum up for German colonialism that compounding is the most important onomastic strategy in colonial place-making. Three aspects mark compounding in this case: a) quantitatively by way of adding structural elements, b) qualitatively by means of semantic modification, and c) indexically by way of referring to agents who created compositional names. CoCoTop is meant to describe on an expanded empirical basis that addition, modification, and indexical reference to agents are of great significance for colonialism generally. Colonial agents coin colonized space correspondingly by way of reserving a dominant position for their own concepts and ideas. They impose their world in a process of multiplication of Eurocentric models. They modify pre-existing orders. In their role as agents of change, they also mark the colonial world. CPNs are not only a good example of these aspects; they also constitute a central field of research. CPNs are traces of colonial addition, modification, and indexical self-reference. It is a crucial task of CoCoTop to study these processes in a comparative perspective on colonial powers. Since, in the German language, compounding is one of the most important means for forming new constructions with the function of classification, our findings relate to the colonial agents’ claim to classification. The subsequent questions ask which places are made on the basis of placeidentification and place-naming, which representations are part of this placemaking, and which toponymic functions could be described in this context.

4.1.3 Which representations make which places? Which semantic concepts are linked to place-identification and place-naming? In (3) we provide a first overview of the classifiers and descriptors as employed in the German colonial toponomasticon. The classifiers are listed in alphabetical order. The dataset of German colonialism features 2,583 token of classifying name constituents which realize only 203 types. This yields a ratio of 12.7 tokens per type. The meaning of the CLASS Auer, Hausen, Mütz, and Rumde could not

98 | Ingo H. Warnke et al.

be clarified without any doubt; therefore, no translation is given here and they are not included in (4). (3)

Inventory of classifying name constituents in the German colonial toponomasticon Archipel ‘archipelago’, Au ‘water meadow’, Aue ‘water meadow’, Auer, Bach ‘brook’, Bad ‘bath’, Bai ‘bay’, Bande ‘boards’, Bank ‘bank’, Baude ‘hut’, Baum ‘tree’, Beck ‘brook’, Becken ‘basin’, Berg(e) ‘mountain(s)’, Bergzug ‘mountain range’, Besitzung ‘possession’, Bett ‘bed’, Bock ‘buck’, Bort dated, in the sense of ‘rim’, Bronn ‘fountain’, Brück ‘bridge’, Brunn ‘fountain’, Brunnen ‘fountain’, Buch ‘book’, Bucht ‘bay’, Burg ‘castle’, Busch ‘bush’, Damm ‘dam’, Denkmal ‘memorial’, Dorf/Dörfer ‘village(s)’, Dorn ‘thorn’, Durchfahrt ‘thoroughfare’, Ebene ‘plain’, Eck ‘corner’, Ecke ‘corner’, Einfahrt ‘entrance’, Enge ‘strait’, Erde ‘earth’, Fähre ‘ferry’, Fahrt ‘passage’, Faktorei ‘factory’, Fall/Fälle ‘fall(s)’, Farm(en) ‘farm(s)’, Feld ‘field’, Felde ‘field’, Fels ‘rock’, Felsen ‘rock’, Feste ‘stronghold’, Fisch ‘fish’, Flach ≈ ’flat’, Fluss ‘river’, Fonteen ‘fountain’, Fontein ‘fountain’, Form ‘form’, Forst ‘forest’, Frieden dated, in the sense of ‘fortification’, Furt ‘ford’, Gebiet ‘area’, Gebirge ‘mountain range’, Gebirgsstock ‘massif’, Gipfel ‘peak(s)’, Golf ‘gulf’, Grab ‘grave’, Graben ‘ditch’, Gras ‘grass’, Grund ‘base’, Gruppe ‘group’, Haar ‘hair’, Hafen ‘harbor’, Hagen dated, in the sense of ‘enclosure; fortification’, Halbinsel ‘peninsula’, Haus ‘house’, Hausen, Heil ‘hail’, Heim ‘home’, Hochebene ‘plateau’, Hochfläche ‘plateau’, Hochland ‘highlands’, Hof ‘estate’, Hoffnung ‘hope’, Höh(e(n)) ‘height(s)’, Höhle(n) ‘cave(s)’, Horn ‘horn’, Horst ‘thicket’, Hügel ‘hill’, Huk ‘headland’, Hut ‘hat’, Insel(n) ‘island(s)’, Joch ‘col’, Kamm ‘ridge’, Kammer ‘chamber’, Kanal ‘canal’, Kap ‘cape’, Kapf ≈ ‘mountain (village)’, Kehl ‘throat’, Kehr dated, in the sense of ‘pasturage’, Kette ‘chain’, Klamm ‘ravine’, Kliffs ‘cliffs’, Kluft ‘chasm’, Kolk ‘pothole’, Kolonie ‘colony’, König ‘king’, Kop ‘head’, Kopf/Köpfe ‘head(s)’, Kopje ‘cup’, Koppe ‘peak; top’, Körbe ‘hives’, Kraal ‘kraal’, Kranz ‘wreath’, Krater ‘crater’, Kriek ‘creek’, Krone ‘crown’, Kuhl ‘hollow’, Kuppe(n) ‘crest(s)’, Küste ‘coast’, Laagte ‘well’, Lagune ‘lagoon’, Land ‘land’, Lände ‘landing’, Löscher ≈ ‘cargo discharger’, Lust ‘lust’, Maid ‘maiden’, Mann ‘man’, Massiv ‘massif’, Mine ‘mine’, Modder ‘mud’, Monument ‘monument’, Mount ‘mount’, Mund ‘mouth’, Mündung ‘estuary’, Mütz, Nadel ‘needle’, Nest ‘nest’, Ohren ‘ears’, Ort ‘location’, Park ‘park’, Pass/Paß ‘pass’, Passage ‘passage’, Peninsula ‘peninsula’, Pfanne ‘pan’, Pflanzung ‘plantation’, Pforte ‘gate’, Plantage ‘plantation’, Plateau ‘plateau’, Platz ‘square’, Port ‘port’, Posten ‘post’, Pütz ‘waterhole’, Quelle(n) ‘source’,

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Reede ‘anchorage’, Reich ‘empire’, Reservat ‘reservation’, Riff(e) ‘reef(s)’, Rinne ‘furrow’, Rivier ‘river’, Rücken ‘rear’, Ruh ‘tranquility’, Ruine ‘ruin’, Rumde, Säge ‘saw’, Sand ‘sand’, Schnelle(n) ‘rapid(s)’, Schrift ‘script’, Schuh ‘shoe’, See ‘lake; sea’, Sohn ‘son’, Spitz ‘peak’, Spitze(n) ‘peak(s)’, Spitzkop ≈ ‘pinhead; pointed head’, Stadl ‘barn’, Stadt ‘town’, Station ‘station’, Stein(e) ‘stone(s)’, Steppe ‘steppe’, Stich ‘sting’, Stock ‘stick’, Stolz ‘pride’, Strand ‘beach’, Straße/Strasse ‘street’, Stuhl ‘stair’, Sumpf ‘swamp’, Sund ‘sound’, T(h)al ‘valley’, T(h)or ‘gate’, Teich ‘pond’, Tempel ‘temple’, Thermen ‘thermal springs’, Tochter ‘daughter’, Topf ‘pot’, Tracht ‘garb’, Verhau ‘entanglement’, Vley ‘vley’, Wald ‘forest’, Warte ‘watch’, Wasser ‘water’, Wasserloch ‘waterhole’, Water ‘water’, Weg ‘way’, Werft(en) ‘shipyard(s)’, Werk ‘factory’, Wüste ‘desert’, Zit ‘time’, Zug ‘(mountain) range’ The most frequent are Berg(e) ‘mountain(s)’ (388), Bucht ‘bay’ (222), Hafen ‘harbor’ (102), Insel(n) ‘island(s)’ (484), Kap ‘cape’ (167), See ‘lake; Sea’ (67), and Spitze(n) ‘peak(s)’ (141). They are above-average. Except Hafen (FUNC-CLASS), all of these most frequently used types are examples of constructions with GEOCLASS (cf. Table 5 in the Appendix). It is of importance that five of these seven types, which are largely monosyllabic, are German etymons of long standing. They form a well-established part of the colonial metropolitan system of classification. In terms of language history and etymology, it can be shown that of all the 2,847 German CPNs (cf. Table 5), 924 CPNs (= 32 %) use German etymons as CLASS. This is an important indication that classification through place-names is not a neutral practice but one that connects back to forms of evaluation on the part of the colonial metropole. Place-making obviously and immediately reconnects to established and inherited modes of perception of space. As Table 6 (in the Appendix) shows, highly frequent CLASS-types have an above-average frequency in DOA and in PACIFIC. It is not surprising that in PACIFIC, the focus rather is on the sea, in DOA it lies more on mountains. This obviously relates to the natural environment of the colonial areas. However, place-making is realized by the focused CLASS. Most often, this is performed in formulaic ways, however differentiated according to the different areas. In accordance with the general practice in linguistic research of classifier systems (Aikhenvald 2000: 271–306), it makes sense to allocate the 203 CLASStypes to different semantic groups. In (4) we survey a provisional list of semantic groups and their members, i.e. classifiers and descriptors which occur in uncontroversial cases. There is a residue class chiefly with idiosyncratic constructions to which we do not attend in this study:

100 | Ingo H. Warnke et al.

(4)

Inventory of semantic groups of classifiers and descriptors. The total amount of tokens in each group is given in brackets:

LANDSCAPE[+WATER] (1,061)

RELIEF (766)

TRAFFIC (218)

WATER (189)

comprises all classifiers that describe a land mass which is only definable through adjacent surficial water: Archipel ‘archipelago’, Au ‘water meadow’, Aue ‘water meadow’, Bai ‘bay’, Bank ‘bank’, Bucht ‘bay’, Golf ‘gulf’, Halbinsel ‘peninsula’, Horn ‘horn’, Huk ‘headland’, Insel(n) ‘island(s)’, Kap ‘cape’, Küste ‘coast’, Lagune ‘lagoon’, Mund ‘mouth’, Mündung ‘estuary’, Peninsula ‘peninsula’, Riff(e) ‘riff(s)’, Strand ‘beach’, Sund ‘sound’ comprises all classifiers which are defined primarily by topographic difference in height: Becken ‘basin’, Berg(e) ‘mountain(s)’, Bergzug ‘mountain range’, Bort ‘rim’, Ebene ‘plain’, Fels(en) ‘rock(s)’, Flach ≈ ‘flat’, Furt ‘ford’, Gebirge ‘mountain range’, Gebirgsstock ‘massif’, Gipfel ‘peak(s)’, Graben ‘ditch’, Grund ‘base’, Hochebene ‘plateau’, Hochfläche ‘plateau’, Hochland ‘highlands’, Höh(e(n)) ‘height(s)’, Höhle(n) ‘cave(s)’, Hügel ‘hill’, Joch ‘col’, Kamm ‘ridge’, Kapf ≈ ’mountain (village)’, Kette ‘chain’, Klamm ‘ravine’, Kliffs ‘cliffs’, Kluft ‘chasm’, Kolk ‘pothole’, Kranz ‘wreath’, Krater ‘crater’, Krone ‘crown’, Kuhl ‘hollow’, Kuppe(n) ‘crest(s)’, Laagte ‘well’, Massiv ‘massif’, Mount ‘mount’, Pass/Paß ‘pass’, Pfanne ‘pan’, Plateau ‘plateau’, Spitz(e(n)) ‘peak(s)’, Stein(e) ‘stone(s)’, T(h)al ‘valley’, Topf ‘pot’, Zug ‘(mountain) range’ comprises all classifiers denoting any topographic phenomena, anthropogenic or natural, which are considered useful and functional for transportation of goods or people: Brück ‘bridge’, Durchfahrt ‘thoroughfare’, Einfahrt ‘entrance’, Enge ‘strait’, Fähre ‘ferrow’, Fahrt ‘passage’, Hafen ‘harbor’, Kanal ‘canal’, Lände ‘landing’, Passage ‘passage’, Pforte ‘gate’, Port ‘port’, Straße/Strasse ‘street’, T(h)or ‘gate’, Weg ‘way’ comprises all classifiers denoting stagnant or a stretch of running water:

Martin Luther at a Pacific harbor | 101

OTHER (86)

LANDSCAPE[-WATER] (80)

INHABITED PLACE (77)

Bach ‘brook’, Beck ‘brook’, Fall/Fälle ‘fall(s)’, Fluss ‘river’, Quelle(n) ‘source(s)’, Rinne ‘furrow’, Rivier ‘river’, Schnelle(n) ‘rapid(s)’, See ‘lake’, Teich ‘pond’, Thermen ‘thermal springs’, Wasser ‘water’, Wasserloch ‘waterhole’, Water ‘water’ comprises all classifiers that do not match the CLASS-type groups mentioned above and below, yet occur too infrequently, in our opinion, to legitimize further categorization: Baum ‘tree’, Bett ‘bed’, Bock ‘buck’, Busch ‘bush’, Damm ‘dam’, Denkmal ‘memorial’, Dorn ‘thorn’, Eck(e) ‘corner’, Fisch ‘fish’, Form ‘form’ Forst ‘forest’, Grab ‘grave’, Gras ‘grass’, Haar ‘hair’, Heil ‘hail’, Hoffnung ‘hope’, Horst ‘thicket’, Hut ‘hat’, Kehl ‘throat’, König ‘king’, Kop(f) ‘head’, Köpfe ‘heads’, Kopje ‘cup’, Körbe ‘hives’, Lust ‘lust’, Maid ‘maiden’, Mann ‘man’, Monument ‘monument’, Nadel ‘needle’, Nest ‘nest’, Ohren ‘ears’, Rücken ‘rear’, Ruh ‘tranquillity’, Schuh ‘shoe’, Sohn ‘son’, Spitzkop ≈ ‘pinhead; pointed head’, Stock ‘stick’, Stolz ‘pride’, Stuhl ‘chair’, Tochter ‘daughter’, Tracht ‘garb’, Wald ‘forest’ comprises all classifiers which denote a landscape without adjacent surficial water: Erde ‘earth’, Feld ‘field’, Felde ‘field’, Gebiet ‘area’, Kolonie ‘colony’, Land ‘land’, Modder ‘mud’, Park ‘park’, Reich ‘empire’, Reservat ‘reservation’, Sand ‘sand’, Steppe ‘steppe’, Sumpf ‘swamp’, Vley ‘vley’, Wüste ‘desert’ comprises all classifiers which name buildings or groups of buildings that do not necessarily fulfill an economic or infrastructural function: Bad ‘bath’, Baude ‘hut’, Burg ‘castle’, Dorf/Dörfer ‘village(s)’, Feste ‘stronghold’, Frieden ‘fortification’, Hagen ‘enclosure; fortification’ Haus ‘house’, Heim ‘home’, Kammer ‘chamber’, Kraal ‘kraal’, Ort ‘location’, Platz ‘square’, Posten ‘post’, Ruine ‘ruin’, Stadl ‘barn’, Stadt ‘town’, Station ‘station’, Tempel ‘temple’, Verhau ‘entanglement’, Warte ‘watch’

102 | Ingo H. Warnke et al.

WATERING PLACE (53)

WORK, ECONOMY (46)

comprises all classifiers defining either anthropogenic or natural locations where drinking water is provided: Bronn ‘fountain’, Brunn ‘fountain’, Brunnen ‘fountain’, Fonteen ‘fountain’, Fontein ‘fountain’, Pütz ‘waterhole’ comprises all classifiers that denote buildings or usable areas with primarily economic function: Besitzung ‘possession’, Faktorei ‘factory’, Farm(en) ‘farm(s)’, Hof ‘estate’, Kehr ‘pasturage’, Mine ‘mine’, Pflanzung ‘plantation’, Plantage ‘plantation’, Reede ‘anchorage’, Säge ‘saw’, Werft(en) ‘shipyard(s)’, Werk ‘factory’

On the basis of the data in (4), we will examine all of the CLASS-type groups and their distribution over the colonial territories in follow-up studies. Table 7 (in the Appendix) shows that this is feasible already in the case of RELIEF and LANDSCAPE[+WATER]. The distributions are once more clearly discernable. The members of the group LANDSCAPE[+WATER] occur above-average in DOA, DSWA, KAM, and PACIFIC, and below-average in TOGO, whereas the members of RELIEF appear above-average precisely in TOGO but, to the contrary, below-average in PACIFIC. We assume that the analyses of all other CLASS-type groups will yield similar results. In the above, we have shown that the different layers of toponomastic concepts exhibit different distributions of place-identification, place-naming, and place-making. Colonial space is highly differentiated along toponymic lines, realizing colonial interests by means of the use of different toponymic structures with a diverse range of toponymic functions. CPNs thus expose which places are produced through linguistic means and open up specific perspectives on spatial functionalization by colonizers. How important the control over the classifiers was for the colonizers can be deduced, for instance, from the case of French regulations in Algiers as decribed by Yermèche (2015). In the mid-19th century, the French colonial authorities in Algiers legally prescribed a closed list of French classifiers for the coining of names for geo-objects in the colony. This list was meant to be exclusive – no classifiers other than those on the list were permitted. This practice gave the colonial government full linguistic control over the territory to which France laid claim.

Martin Luther at a Pacific harbor | 103

5 Conclusions: And where does that leave the contradiction? Dimension, action, and representation are important analytical aspects to examine colonial place-names because CPNs identify space dimensionally, structure it actionally, and produce it representationally. However, dimension, action, and representation are also three important layers of colonial power in general which highlight three types of contradiction: consolidation of power inside by dimensional action outside, practices of “paradoxical recognition” (Dreesen 2014: 1), and acts which simultaneously create closeness and distance. How do these aspects relate? Are CPNs expressive of such contradictions, a potential object of the linguistic analysis of contradiction? If, in dimensional terms, GEO-CLASS and FUNC-CLASS dominate in placeidentification through CPNs, those two categories precisely indicate a perspective to the outside onto the distance of a foreign world and, at the same time, to the inside of self-interests. The outward perspective onto global geographies corresponds to a perception of realities in natural space, whereas the inward perspective onto self-interests corresponds to a focus on potential and existing functions of spatial orders. If in actional terms compounding is the dominant structure in placenaming, then finding a new name on the basis of a given category gains relevance. Compounds are creations on the basis of known concepts. The colonial world is thus to be understood simultaneously as a known space and as a place yet unknown and to be shaped compositionally. This is characteristic for acts of place-naming in German colonialism. Compounding is a practice of appropriating the world in systems of known concepts. If colonial place-making is essentially defined in representational terms by seven types of classifiers – these comprise, as shown above, 55% of all German CPNs – and among these, five concepts are connected to German etymons, then it becomes obvious that the distant space is drawn closer through conventional and inherited points of view. The high number of indigenoids, in contrast, contradicts this observation through the toponomastic conservation of the foreign in colonially subjected areas. The general relations of contradiction as highlighted above reappear once more in colonial place-identification, placenaming, and place-making. CPNs are: a) toponomastic dimensions of colonial expansion in a geographic and functional space,

104 | Ingo H. Warnke et al.

b) toponomastic practices as appropriations of foreign topographies through European toponomastic structures, and c) they construct semantic representations in conventionalized and inherited modes of perception which minimize as well as create distance. An analysis of CLASS underlines this. To conclude: in the context of Colonial Linguistics, the branch of Comparative Colonial Toponomastics is of importance. It is a relevant task to analyze the ways in which colonial space is named, including a description of structures and semantics. Such an analysis may be part of a linguistic reflection on contradiction as a feature of colonialism. Many questions remain unanswered today, not least the question of naming agents, questions concerning the relation between exonyms and endonyms, and the question of how similar colonial place-names are to metropolitan place-names. We have noted four tasks for the project of CoCoTop: future research should focus on areal differences, types of classification, colonial areas, and on the question whether colonial placenaming generally occurs in compositional structures. Data of German colonialism can merely be part of CoCoTop which has a far wider scope since it is meant to cover all colonial toponomasticons. Not only colonialism can be understood more thoroughly by way of such an approach, toponomastics in turn will also undergo changes. We would welcome this effect as linguists.

Acknowledgment: We extend our gratitude to Wolfgang Crom, head of the map department at the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin, for sharing his invaluable expertise and commenting on cartographic matters.

Abbreviations abs ADJ ANTH CLASS CN

CoCoTop COL

CPN DET

DIV DOA

absolute adjective anthroponym classifier class name Comparative Colonial Toponomastics colonial colonial place name determiner diverse descriptors Deutsch-Ostafrika [German East Africa]

Martin Luther at a Pacific harbor | 105

DP DSWA FORM-CLASS FUNC

FUNC-CLASS GDKA GEO-CLASS KAM Rel STR

TOPO-REF TOT

determiner phrase Deutsch-Südwestafrika [German South-West Africa] form classifier function function classifier Großer Deutscher Kolonialatlas geographic classifier Kamerun [Cameroon] relative morphological structure toponymic reference total

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Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2018b. Auf dem Weg zu einer vergleichenden Kolonialtoponomastik. Der Fall Deutsch-Südwestafrika. In Birte Kellermeier-Rehbein, Matthias Schulz & Doris Stolberg (eds.), Sprache und (Post)Kolonialismus, 71–103. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2019. Saints, nobility, and other heroes. Colonial placenaming as part of the European linguistic heritage. In Brigitte Weber (ed.), The linguistic heritage of colonial practice, 13–42. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas, Ingo H. Warnke & Nataliya Levkovych. 2016. Colonial place names in a comparative perspective. Beiträge zur Namenforschung 51. 279–355. Warnke, Ingo H., Thomas Stolz & Daniel Schmidt-Brücken. 2016. Perspektiven der Postcolonial Language Studies. In Thomas Stolz, Ingo H. Warnke & Daniel Schmidt-Brücken (eds.), Sprache und Kolonialismus. Eine interdisziplinäre Einführung zu Sprache und Kommunikation in kolonialen Kontexten, 1–26. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Yermèche, Ouerdia. 2015. Les toponymes algériens durant la colonisation française et après l’indépendance entre retoponymisation et transcription françaises. In Jonas Löfström & Betina Schnabel-Le Corre (eds.), Challenges in synchronic toponymy, 355–372. Tübingen: Narr.

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Appendix

Map 1: Location of Luther-Hafen on the island of Umboi in the North-West of what today is Papua-Neuginea. Map section from Großer Deutscher Kolonialatlas, map 2 (G7).

1.60%

1.05%

0.00%

0.32%

0.04%

0.67%

0.04%

4

0

3

0

1

0

abs

0.12%

0.10%

0.00%

0.23%

0.00%

0.19%

0.00%

rel nCOL

0.14%

0.00%

0.11%

0.00%

0.04%

0.00%

rel nTOT

TYPE B: derivative abs

2182

102

947

188

456

591

8.19%

81.89%

97.14%

71.63%

79.32%

86.36%

90.23%

rel nCOL

76.64%

3.58%

33.26%

6.60%

16.02%

20.76%

rel nTOT

TYPE C: compound abs

526

3

363

48

52

63

8.67%

16.7%

2.86%

27.46%

20.25%

9.85%

9.62%

rel nCOL

2,847

105

1,322

237

528

655

nCOL

|| 2 In this and following tables double underlining shows below-average occurrences, single underlining those above-average. Due to a minor number of analytical uncertainties, some of the tables in this work are grounded on slightly varying basic quantities. The corpus based on the GDKA provides a total of nTOT = 2,847 CPNs, a small number of which have proven to be hardly analyzable unambiguously. As a result such cases of doubt have been intentionally excluded if need be, thus reducing nTOT in some cases. Further, more detailed explanation of this will be given alongside each table. However, it may be anticipated that the variation of nTOT comes to merely four CPNs (< 0.15% deviation), all in all not affecting the significance of the statistics in general.

18.4%

0.11%

12.75%

1.69%

1.83%

2.21%

rel nTOT

TYPE D: phrase

nTOT = total amount of all (partially) German CPNs = 2,847; nCOL = total amount of (partially) German CPNs in this colonial area

1.21%

Mean

30

Total

0.00%

0.68%

0.42%

3.60%

0.15%

rel nCOL rel nTOT

σ

9

0

PACIFIC

1

KAM

TOGO

19

DSWA

abs

1

DOA

TYPE A: simplex

Table 1: Quantitative analysis 1 (Q1) – distribution of morphological structures per colonial area.2

Martin Luther at a Pacific harbor | 109

0

47

TOGO

Total

0.84%

0.00%

1.14% 0.00%

0.53%

0.07%

0.70%

0.35%

rel nTOT

2,796

105

1,306

235

507

643

abs

1.42%

98.54%

100.00%

98.86%

99.16%

96.20%

98.47%

rel nCOL

With CLASS

3.69%

45.94%

8.27%

17.83%

22.62%

rel nTOT

2,843

105

1,321

237

527

653

nCOL

|| 3 Four CPNs have been excluded here since the question whether they own a CLASS or not could not be answered clearly. As an example the CPNs Ngaldjam von Kakala and Ngladjam von Wuliya can be adduced. Here, von is the only element which can undoubtedly be determined as German. So far, thorough research has not led to satisfying information about the meaning of the other two resp. three elements, thus making it impossible to determine a potential CLASS.

nTOT = total amount of all (partially) German CPNs = 2,843; nCOL = total amount of (partially) German CPNs in this colonial area

1.42%

15

PACIFIC

1.46%

2

KAM

3.80%

1.53%

σ

20

DSWA

rel nCOL

Mean

10

DOA

abs

Without CLASS

Table 2: Quantitative analysis 2 (Q2) – distribution of (partially) German CPNs with and without CLASS.3

110 | Ingo H. Warnke et al.

0

47

TOGO

Total

0.00%

1.14%

rel nTOT

1.65%

0.00%

0.53%

0.07%

0.70%

0.35%

43

0

14

1

25

3

1.94%

1.34%

0.00%

1.06%

0.43%

4.74%

0.46%

abs rel nCOL

DIV rel nTOT

1.51%

0.00%

0.49%

0.04%

0.88%

0.11%

abs

213

25

22

36

92

38

8.98%

12.81%

23.81%

1.67%

15.32%

17.46%

5.79%

rel nCOL

7.49%

0.88%

0.77%

1.27%

3.23%

1.34%

rel nTOT

TOPO-REF abs

447

5

198

38

155

51

9.56%

14.62%

4.76%

14.99%

16.17%

29.41%

7.77%

rel nCOL

15.72%

0.18%

6.96%

1.34%

5.45%

1.79%

rel nTOT

FUNC-CLASS abs

2,094

75

1,072

158

235

554

15.72%

69.77%

71.43%

81.15%

67.23%

44.59%

84.45%

rel nCOL

|| 4 Cf. note on Table 2: Lacking evidence for the mere presence of a CLASS, its further categorization was not possible in four cases.

73.63%

2.64%

37.69%

5.56%

8.26%

19.48%

rel nTOT

GEO-CLASS

nTOT = total amount of all (partially) German CPNs = 2,844; nCOL = total amount of (partially) German CPNs in this colonial area

1.42%

15

PACIFIC

0.85%

3.80%

σ

2

KAM

1.46%

20

DSWA

rel nCOL

1.52%

Mean

10

abs

DOA

Ø

Table 3: Quantitative analysis 3 (Q3) – distribution of CLASS-categories per colonial area (extended).4

2,844

105

1,321

235

527

656

nCOL

Martin Luther at a Pacific harbor | 111

96.55%

1.65%

0.49%

0.04%

0.14%

0.98%

rel nTOT

43

6

37

0

0

abs

0.82%

0.69%

1.14%

1.62%

0.00%

0.00%

rel nSTR

DIV

1.51%

0.21%

1.30%

0.00%

0.00%

rel nTOT

213

28

185

0

0

abs

4.04%

3.35%

5.30%

8.10%

0.00%

0.00%

rel nSTR

7.49%

0.98%

6.50%

0.00%

0.00%

rel nTOT

TOPO-REF

447

59

387

0

1

abs

7.63%

7.89%

11.17%

16.95%

0.00%

3.45%

rel nSTR

15.72%

2.07%

13.61%

0.00%

0.04%

rel nTOT

FUNC-CLASS

2,094

421

1,673

0

0

abs

|| 5 Cf. note on Table 3.

nTOT = total amount of all (partially) German CPNs = 2,844; nSTR = total amount of CPN with this morphological structure

55.99%

σ

47

Total

49.81%

14

Phrase

Mean

0.04%

2.65%

Compound 1

100.00%

28

rel nSTR

Derivative 4

Simplex

abs

Ø

Table 4: Quantitative analysis 4 (Q4) – correlation of analytical categories and morphological structure.5

44.25%

38.25%

79.73%

73.28%

0.00%

0.00%

rel nSTR

73.63%

14.80%

58.83%

0.00%

0.00%

rel nTOT

GEO-CLASS

2,844

528

2,283

4

29

nSTR

112 | Ingo H. Warnke et al.

483 164 68 142

Insel(n)

Kap

See

Spitze(n)

5.4975%

2.6326%

6.3492%

18.6992%

3.9489%

8.5947%

nTOKEN = total amount of tokens of all CLASS-types = 2,583

1.8930%

102

Hafen

0.4926%

222

Bucht

15.0987%

σ

390

Berg(e)

rel nTOKEN

Mean of all CLASS-types

abs

Type

Table 5: Above average CLASS-types.

Martin Luther at a Pacific harbor | 113

36

46

89

39

388

78

60

DSWA

KAM

PACIFIC

TOGO

Total

Mean

σ

51

44

222

0

117

11

16

78

Bucht

42

20

102

0

95

1

1

5

Hafen

168

97

484

0

394

30

1

59

Insel(n)

61

33

167

0

141

7

0

19

Kap

nCOL = total amount of tokens of highly frequent CLASS-types in this colonial area

178

DOA

Berg(e)

Table 6: Distribution of highly frequent CLASS-types per colonial area.

23

13

67

1

6

6

0

54

See

48

28

141

3

114

10

2

12

Spitze(n)

388

314

1,571

43

956

111

56

405

nCOL

114 | Ingo H. Warnke et al.

21.25%

rel nCLASS_TOT

29.74%

2.37%

9.39%

3.03%

5.16%

9.78%

abs

1,061

2

780

53

47

179

22.29%

26.24%

2.50%

60.80%

26.90%

11.46%

29.54%

rel nCLASS_COL

41.19%

0.08%

30.28%

2.06%

1.82%

6.95%

rel nCLASS_TOT

LANDSCAPE[+WATER]

nCLASS_TOT = total amount of tokens in all CLASS-type groups; nCLASS_COL = total amount of tokens of all CLASS-type groups in this colonial area

41.75%

76.25%

18.86%

39.59%

32.44%

σ

766

Total

rel nCLASS_COL

41.58%

Mean

242

61

PACIFIC

78

KAM

TOGO

133

DSWA

abs

252

DOA

RELIEF

Table 7: Distribution of CLASS-type groups per colonial area.

Martin Luther at a Pacific harbor | 115

Thomas Stolz and Nataliya Levkovych

Places without names and names without places? On the blank maps of the Gani-Islands Abstract: The paper raises the issue of the unexpectedly absent place names on extant maps of the Gani-Islands in Micronesia. It is shown that at different times during the last 360 years of documentation these islands have been inhabited on and off and that their present desertion is of recent origin. This gives rise to the question why there are hardly any toponomastic pieces of evidence for the previous human presence on the islands. It is argued that a number of place names – colonial or other – have not made it onto the official maps although they are mentioned unsystematically in documents referring to the Mariana Islands. Therefore, the conclusions sketch a future project dedicated to recovering the supposedly forgotten place names and make them visible in a revised atlas of the islands under review. Keywords: absent place names, blank maps, Micronesia, Gani-Islands

1 Introduction This paper addresses the intriguing case of the Gani-Islands (Mariana Islands, Micronesia) (henceforth GIs) which are usually represented on maps as being devoid of place names. The absence of place names runs counter to the expectations of Comparative Colonial Toponomastics (CoCoTop) and challenges some of the generalizations and hypotheses put forward within the framework of CoCoTop. This study is intended to identify the problems posed by the blank maps of the GIs and explain why it is important for CoCoTop to investigate this case in-depth in the not too distant future. To achieve this goal, we organize our contribution as follows. In Section 2, we inform the reader about the basic ideas

|| Thomas Stolz, University of Bremen, FB 10: Linguistics/Language Sciences, UniversitätsBoulevard 13, 28359 Bremen, Germany. E-Mail: [email protected] Nataliya Levkovych, University of Bremen, FB 10: Linguistics/Language Sciences, UniversitätsBoulevard 13, 28359 Bremen, Germany. E-Mail: [email protected] https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-006

118 | Thomas Stolz and Nataliya Levkovych

developed by CoCoTop. Section 3 sketches the toponomasticon of the Mariana Islands south of the GIs. The demographic past of the latter is reviewed separately in Section 4. A comparable but strikingly different case from the North Atlantic is briefly presented in Section 5. In Section 6, we discuss a list of place names which are associated with particular GIs but whose geo-referents cannot be identified. The conclusions are drawn in Section 7.

2 Advances CoCoTop is one of the most important pillars of the research program of Colonial and Postcolonial Language Studies as outlined by Warnke et al. (2016: 23–24). The foundation stone of CoCoTop was laid by Stolz and Warnke (2015) in their seminal study of German colonial place names of which Warnke et al. (this volume) is a recent spin-off. Since then the project has made considerable progress not only with reference to theory and methodology but also in the empirical domain, i.e. our knowledge about the subject matter under review is no longer limited to the case of German colonialism. We are now also relatively well informed about the place names in the context of Dutch (Stolz and Warnke 2018a), Italian (Miccoli 2017, 2019), Danish (for Greenland – Schuster 2018, 2019; for the Danish Virgin Islands – Jakobsen and Lidsmoes this volume; Kühl and Holmegaard Aastrup this volume), Russian (Levkovych 2018), Spanish (for the Philippines – Lesho and Sippola 2018; for Hispaniola – Herling 2018; for the Western Sahara – Stolz and Warnke 2016), French (Herling 2018, this volume), and Japanese (Otsuka 2018) colonialism. The focus in these and further like-minded publications is on those classes of colonial place names whose members involve at least one component which stems from the language of the colonizers. These classes usually contain macrotoponyms1 of either the exonymic or the hybrid kind. The former consist exclusively of elements which have been taken from the language of the colonizers whereas the hybrids are (per definition complex) place names which are formed by way of combining elements from the language of the colonizers with elements from the language of the colonized. The third class of colonial toponyms is that of endonyms, i.e. place names which (at least superficially) comprise only elements from the language of the colonized (Stolz and Warnke 2018b: 13–21).

|| 1 For most of the toponomastic terminology, except otherwise stated, we rely on Nübling et al. (2015: 206–265).

Places without names and names without places? | 119

Colonial exonyms and hybrids are particularly interesting from the point of view of toponomastics because, independent of the European colonizer nation, they overwhelmingly display parallel formal and functional properties so that it is possible to define the Canonical Colonial Toponym (CCT) which is an exonym with a binary internal structure CLASSIFIER + MODIFIER/MODIFIER + CLASSIFIER which refers to a settlement (Stolz and Warnke 2018b: 28). It has been shown for fourteen European colonizer nations that person names are frequently employed in this structural pattern (Stolz et al. 2016) and these person names more often than not refer to political, military, religious, or cultural representatives of the colonizer nation (Stolz and Warnke 2019). A noticeable exception to this tendency is the Japanese colonial toponomasticon from which de-anthroponymic place names are almost completely banned (Otsuka 2018). Therefore, the above CCT is representative of a pattern that is common to European practices of colonial place-naming. The comparison of Dutch and Portuguese place-naming practices in Netherlands New Guinea and Portuguese Timor in the 1950s reveals that exonymic colonial place names based on person names are common in both colonies but in the Dutch case, the pattern is used mostly for geo-objects other than settlements whereas the pattern is almost exclusively used for settlements in the Portuguese colony (Stolz et al. 2018). In a comparative study of Dutch and Italian colonial place names, Stolz and Warnke (2017) show that settled places are treated differently from uninhabited geo-objects insofar as only anoikonyms may come in the shape of enumerative de-individualized place names. Exonymic or hybrid place names which have been coined during the colonial era do not necessarily disappear from the maps after independence of the erstwhile colonies (Stolz and Warnke 2016). On the other hand, exonyms may cluster in those areas of the colonies which, for whatever reason, are important to the colonizers whereas in regions which are neglected by the colonizers, exonyms/hybrids can be outnumbered by endonyms so that a center-periphery opposition emerges on the map (Stolz and Warnke 2016). The above findings allow us to put forward generalizations about colonial place names in yet to explore regions. Accordingly, hypothesis [H1] summarizes the major expectations of CoCoTop. [H1]

The potential ubiquity of the CCT We assume that if a given area once happened to be under the rule of a European colonizer and this area also was inhabited at least temporarily during the colonial period, then it is highly probable that we find exonymic/hybrid colonial place names in this area some of which are realization forms of the CCT.

120 | Thomas Stolz and Nataliya Levkovych

As will come to the fore in the subsequent sections, the extant cartography of the GIs does not meet the expectations as exposed in [H1]. We argue that the absence of place names on the maps of the GIs does not automatically disprove [H1] since place names might exist in the memory of people without being recorded on paper in the first place. However, CoCoTop predominantly works with epichartica2 because maps constitute the first and foremost source for our research – and there are no epichartica in the case of the GIs which means that several problems arise in practice and theory. These issues are taken up in due course in the remainder of this paper.

3 The Marianas 3.1 General overview Located in Micronesia, the Marianas form a chain of fifteen islands on the westernmost rim of the Pacific Ocean. The islands stretch over some 700 km from 20°33’N to 13°14’N and 146°05’E to 144°38’E between Japan and the Philippines. Map 1 provides a contemporary snapshot of the geographic whereabouts of the Marianas and their division into different sections.3 Politically the Marianas are divided into two distinct bodies, namely a) the unincorporated US territory Guam4 which is the southernmost and at the same time largest of the islands, b) the Commonwealth of the Northern Marianas – a semiautonomous country associated with the USA – to which all other islands belong, viz. from south to north, Rota, Aguihan, Tinian, Saipan, Farallon de Medinilla, Anatahan, Sarigan, Guguan, Alamagan, Pagan, Agrigan, Assongsong, Maug, and Urakas. The state boundary between the (a) and (b) is indicated by the thick single line on Map 1. || 2 The term epichartica refers to “words on maps”. This new category is the topic of Stolz and Warnke (in preparation). 3 The maps can be consulted in the Appendix. 4 For almost all of the place names recorded for the Marianas, there are alternative spellings and/or referentially identical but etymologically different place names – some of them historical, others contemporary (such as Guahan = Guam). For practical reasons, we refrain from given the full array of currently competing or outdated variants. Throughout this study, we stick to one version only.

Places without names and names without places? | 121

There are however two further divisions which are not of a political character. First of all, we have to distinguish inhabited islands from uninhabited islands (dividing dotted line on Map 1). Presently, only four of the southerly islands boast a permanent population: Guam (~ 160,000 inhabitants), Rota (~ 2,500 inhabitants), Tinian (~ 3,100 inhabitants), and Saipan (~ 48,000 inhabitants). All other islands are not permanently settled. With the exception of Aguihan, all of the deserted islands are situated to the north of Saipan. Secondly, the traditional Chamorro term Gani5 refers to the islands north of Farallon de Medinilla. On Map 1, the border between the GIs and the remainder of the Marianas is marked by the double line. The discussion which relates to these maps is part of Section 4. Before we can proceed to investigating the GIs, it is necessary to have a cursory look at the situation (not only on the maps) of the inhabited islands in the south.

3.2 Where colonial place names are common 3.2.1 Glimpses of the colonial past6 The Marianas look back on a long history of foreign domination. When Magellan visited the islands during the first circumnavigation of the world in 1521 the Marianas had an ethnically homogeneous population of some 100,000 Chamorros. In the wake of Legazpi’s conquest of the Philippines, the Marianas became a de jure possession of the Spanish crown. The de facto colonization began however only in 1668 when Christian missionaries under the leadership of Sanvitores entered the Marianas. The attempt of the Spaniards to seize control of the entire archipelago and the violent reaction of the Chamorros against colonization and Christianization sparked off a 30-years war which ended with a demographic catastrophe in 1698. Only some 5,000 Chamorros are believed to have survived the bloodshed. The survivors were deported from the northerly islands to Guam. Apart from Guam, Rota was the sole island to host a small community of Chamorros throughout the 18th century. Attempts at resettling the islands to the north of Rota began as late as 1815 when the immigration of Carolinians from Truk was permitted by the Spanish authorities. Hardach (1990: || 5 According to the German governor (Bezirksamtmann) Georg Fritz the “word [Gani] appears in the last syllable of the islands [Anatahan, Sarigan, Guguan, Alamagan, Pagan, and Agrigan] and signifies the running aground of a boat on rocks.” (Fritz 2001: 11). 6 For the colonial history of the Marianas from 1521–1898, we rely on Rogers (1995), Coomans (2000), and Driver and Brunal-Perry (1996a–b).

122 | Thomas Stolz and Nataliya Levkovych

24–25) claims that Pagan and Agrigan hosted only seasonal inhabitants in the 19th century. During the Spanish period immigrants, missionaries, and soldiery came to the islands from all parts of the Spanish colonial empire especially from Mexico (until 1815) and the Philippines. The censuses of 1727, 1787, and 1828 show that the share of resident people with a Hispanic ethnic background increased from some 10% to 51%, meaning: the Chamorros became a minority on the islands (Driver and Brunal-Perry 1996a: 1–3). The Spanish era came to an end with the Spanish-American War of 1898 and the loss of Guam to the USA. In 1899, Spain sold the remainder of its former Micronesian colonies to Germany which governed the Northern Marianas as part of Deutsch-Neuguinea until the outbreak of World War I in 1914. The presence of Germans in the Marianas was minimal and never exceeded seventeen individuals (Seidel 1907: 206). Japan ruled over the Northern Marianas from 1914 (since 1919 as a League of Nations Trustee) until the end of World War II. There was massive immigration of Japanese and Okinawans which peaked at some 40,000 settlers who outnumbered the native population by a ratio of tento-one (Peattie 1992: 160). To the present day, Guam has remained a possession of the USA whereas the Northern Marianas continued under US administration as part of the United Nations Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands until 1978. From the early 1960s onwards, immigration especially from other parts of Micronesia, the Philippines, and Southeast Asia has turned the Marianas into multiethnic and multilingual islands (Karolle 1988: 88). Today the Chamorros represent only a third of the entire population of the islands. English and Chamorro are co-official languages throughout the archipelago whereas Carolinian is the third co-official language of the Commonwealth of the Northern Marianas. Bilingualism with English is widespread. Chamorro and Carolinian are endangered languages.

3.2.2 Colonial place names In the light of the above history of the Marianas, chances are that we find evidence of place names built on the basis of elements taken from at least Chamorro, Carolinian, Spanish, English, German, and/or Japanese.7 We classify the first

|| 7 Chamorro and Carolinian are both Austronesian languages which belong to the MalayoPolynesian branch of the language family. Chamorro is an internal isolate within this branch whereas Carolinian belongs to the Chuukic subgroup of Micronesian. Spanish, English, and German are members of the Indo-European language family (Romance and Germanic branch-

Places without names and names without places? | 123

two languages as autochthonous in contrast to the remaining four languages which are those of the changing colonizer nations. Except Farallon de Pajaros, all of the Mariana Islands are nowadays identified by their Chamorro names whose Spanish and Japanese aliases are discussed by Stolz and Warnke (2019: 23–26) and Otsuka (2018), respectively. In this study, we exclusively look at place names which refer to geo-objects situated on the islands. Pure Chamorro or Carolinian place names,8 such as e.g. the district name Dandan (< Ch. dandan ‘ringing [or playing a musical instrument]’) or the settlement name Garapan (< Car. arabul ‘beach grass’) on Saipan, are thus examples of endonyms. Place names which involve elements of one of the colonizer languages are exonyms or hybrids. There are examples of exonyms/hybrids for all of the above colonizer languages. The German contribution was minimal and has not survived the end of the German presence in the Marianas. Apart from the hybrids Agrigan Ankerplatz on Agrigan, Tinian-Hafen on Tinian and (Tanapag) Hafen on Saipan, there are only Neuheim, (the potential hybrid) Oleai-Dorf, and Samoaner-Dorf (Hardach 1990: 103–104) on Saipan. The latter three are names of newly founded settlements: Neuheim for the survivors of a typhoon which hit the village of Tanapag in 1905,9 Oleai-Dorf and Samoaner-Dorf for Carolinians from Woleai and Ulithi and (political deportees) from Samoa, respectively. These ephemeral10 German exonyms and hybrids have enough in common with the above CCT to be filed as instances of the expected kind: they display a binary morphological structure with a classifier originating from the language of the colonizer (Ankerplatz = anchorage, Hafen = harbor, Dorf = village, -heim = home) and in two cases a German modifier (neu = new, Samoaner = Samoans). Except Agrigan Ankerplatz, the place names refer to settlements. Japanese-based colonial place names are recorded for Tinian and Rota (Peattie 1992: 164–167), for instance. Many of these also display a binary structure. This is the case with the exonym Shimo Suiden ‘lower rice-field’ (< Jap.

|| es). The genetic affiliation of Japanese is a matter of debate. One relatively widespread opinion suggests a membership in the Japanese-Ryukyuan language family. 8 Except otherwise stated, all place names mentioned in this section are drawn from Bryan (1971). Since this source lacks page numbers, we refer to the text only summarily. 9 According to Russell (1999: 24) “[t]he village Tanapag, completely leveled by strong winds and high seas, was reestablished on a protected hillside opposite the harbor. The Germans named the settlement Neuheim [italics original] (New Town [sic!]) although the residents continued to refer to it by its traditional name, Puerto Rico.” 10 Note that Oleai (without the German classifier Dorf) is still registered as district name under #63 of place names of Saipan presented in Bryan (1971).

124 | Thomas Stolz and Nataliya Levkovych

shimo ‘(be)low’ + Jap. suiden ‘rice-field’) and the (potential) hybrid Manira-yama ‘Manila mountain’ (< Jap. Manira ‘Manila’ + Jap. yama ‘mountain’) on Rota. English-based colonial place names are predominantly of recent origin. There are several examples of place names which refer to military sites such as Hagman Field – an air-strip used by the US forces on Saipan. There are hybrids like San Vicente Village with an English classifier and a Spanish modifier. On Aguihan, we find Mount Reconaissance, on Tinian there is White Beach, etc. Since Chamorro has undergone massive lexical Hispanization, difficulties arise when it comes to assigning the correct language of origin to a given place name. The exonymic district name Puerto Rico on Saipan is uncontroversial as to its Spanish origin because it is recorded already during the Spanish colonial period. The same holds for the exonymic village names San Antonio, San Jose, and San Roque on Saipan. On the same island, the exonymic district names Matansa (< Sp. matanza ‘slaughter’) and Kalabera (< Sp. calavera ‘skull’) commemorate the decisive victory of the Spaniards over the Chamorros in the war of conquest (Rogers 1995: 67). Note that not all of the Spanish examples pass as the usual suspects, in a manner of speaking, because some of them lack the binary internal structure of the CCT. On the other hand, the above village names with their reference to Christian saints nicely fit the description of the CCT. This means that [H1] holds albeit only to a certain degree. The vast majority of the place names reviewed in the foregoing paragraphs refers to geo-objects located on the nowadays inhabited southerly islands. The list could easily be extended to cover several hundred instances of exonyms and hybrids if we take the entire toponomasticons of Saipan, Tinian, Rota, and Guam into account. The situation changes drastically however if we turn our eyes on the northerly islands.

4 The northerly islands 4.1 Demographic developments When we say that the GIs are currently uninhabited we do not claim by any means that they have never been settled at all. To the contrary, there is evidence that most of the islands had a Chamorro population at the outset of the Spanish conquest. Based on Sanvitores’ report, Lehne and Gäbler (1972) claim that, in all probability, the GIs including Farallon de Medinilla (but possibly excluding Urakas) were inhabited (some densely like Anatahan, others doubtfully like Guguan) until deportation in 1695 and 1698. The islands north of Guam/Rota

Places without names and names without places? | 125

remained off-limits for everybody until 1815 and the first attempts to resettle the GIs are several decades posterior to this date. The report of the Spanish governor Pablo Pérez written in 1849–1852 classifies the GIs as deserted (Driver and Brunal-Perry 1996b: 87–89). However, already in the early 20th century, the situation turned to the better in the sense that previously uninhabited islands were reported to host small groups of new (but perhaps not permanent) inhabitants. Table 1 is based on the information provided by Seidel (1907: 197). For no apparent reason, the census data of 1904 and 1905 for Anatahan, Alamagan, Pagan, and Agrigan were lumped together. The absolute numbers refer only to Chamorros and Carolinians.11 In the entire German colony (i.e. including Saipan, Tinian, Aguihan, and Rota), the non-native population (Japanese, Spaniards, Germans, etc.) never surpassed 4% (Hardach 1990: 107). Table 1: Demographic development in the early years of the German rule (selected GIs).

Island

1900

1901

1902

1903

Anatahan

11

0

0

24

Alamagan

18

17

8

23

Pagan

75

81

137

104

Agrigan

37

40

32

64

Sarigan

0

0

8

6

1904

1905

139

140

9

9

It stands to reason that those GIs which were not included in Seidel’s statistics were uninhabited during the German period, viz. Guguan, Assongsong, Maug, and Urakas to which Farallon de Medinilla has to be added too. This picture remains almost the same during the Japanese and the US trusteeships after World War I and II, respectively, as can be gathered from Table 2 which reproduces the data given in Bryan (1971) and Lehne and Gäbler (1972). For 1935 the number of Japanese settlers (included in the total) is given separately in brackets.

|| 11 The demographic data have to be taken with a grain of salt. Lehne and Gäbler (1972) have different numbers for Anatahan in 1900 (10–15 Carolinians), Alamagan in 1901 (10 inhabitants), and Pagan in 1901 (137 inhabitants), Agrigan in 1901 (32 inhabitants).

126 | Thomas Stolz and Nataliya Levkovych

Table 2: Demographic development during the Japanese and US American trusteeships (selected GIs).

Island

1935

1945

1967

1969

1970

Anatahan

40 (3)

0

64

23

16

Alamagan

24

0

15

48

24

Pagan

220 (89)

0

87

62

52

Agrigan

88 (2)

0

94

64

56

Sarigan

0

0

3

0

0

Where there were five inhabited GIs in the German colonial epoch, this number shrank to four in the subsequent decades since Sarigan remained uninhabited throughout the two trusteeships. At the end of World War II, the settlement history of the GIs experienced an interruption. In the post-war and afterwards, the population of the GIs remained small and started to dwindle further in the late 1960s. As to Urakas, Maug, Assongsong, Guguan, and Farallon de Medinilla, the different censuses always register the islands as uninhabited. Starting with the 1980s, the danger of volcanic activities and general logistic problems impelled the authorities to evacuate the population of the inhabited GIs to Saipan and Tinian.12 After 1998, Alamagan was temporarily resettled (7 inhabitants as of 2005) but remained uninhabited after 2010. The small size of the communities and the fluctuation of the population notwithstanding, it can be stated that at least four of the GIs were settled throughout most of the eight decades from 1900 to 1980. People were born and raised on these islands, went to school and church there, dwelled in their local houses, married, founded families, worked in agriculture and fishery locally, and eventually died on these islands. Given that several generations of inhabitants spent their full life-cycles on the GIs, it seems only logical to expect that they oriented themselves with mono-referential spatial terms, meaning: there must have been a system of place names referring to geo-objects on these islands. This logic of ours is however not corroborated by the extant cartography of the islands under scrutiny.

|| 12 The history of the evacuation of Pagan has been popularized in Germany by Schalansky (2011).

Places without names and names without places? | 127

4.2 On (absent or lost) place names The long gap between the deportation of the original inhabitants of the GIs to the southerly islands in the late 17th century and the new beginning of settlement in the 2nd half of the 19th century makes it unlikely that the place names of old could have survived the period of desertion of the islands. That there were place names at the advent of the Spanish missionaries can be seen from Coomans’s account of the events in 1667–1673. Among other things, the historiographer of the Christian mission in the Marianas reports on the arrival of his fellow-missionaries on Agrigan who named a port on this island San León (Coomans 2000: 55). Rodrique Levesque, the translator and editor of the text under review, comments on this place-naming event in a footnote (Coomans 2000: 55, footnote 91) where he states that “[i]t is possible that the anchorage in question, lying off the ancient village of Summarrago [boldface added], was first recognized by Fr. Morales in 1669.” This quote is indicative of the existence of both early Spanish-based colonial place names (like San León) and precolonial Chamorro place names (like Summarrago) which have not survived into modern times. In point of fact, the modern maps of the Marianas produced by the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Soil Conservation Service (Source: U.S. Defense Mapping Agency and SCS Field Personnel, USDA-SCS-National Cartographic Center, Fort Worth/Texas, 1966) dating back to 1986 show an abundance of place names only for the currently inhabited islands Guam, Rota, Tinian, and Saipan as well as for Pagan. Superficially, all other GIs (plus Farallon de Medinilla and Agihan) are represented by blank maps which are completely devoid of place names or so it seems. One gets the impression that [H1] does not apply in the case of these GIs. In the Appendix, Maps 2–11 document the current cartographic representation of each of the islands separately from south to north starting with Farallon de Medinilla and ending with Urakas. The maps do not host any place names beyond those of the islands themselves although the individual GIs are topographically rich in the sense that there are numerous volcanoes, hills, valleys, lava fields, rivulets, bays, beaches, forests, plantations, and further geo-objects which are potential referents of place names. Bryan (1971) provides a full account of all place names found in the then Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands – with largely the same result. According to his lists, there are absolutely no place names for geo-objects on Urakas, Maug, Assongsong, Guguan, Sarigan, Anatahan, and Farallon de Medinilla. Only for Agrigan does Bryan (1971) mention Eng. Agrihan Anchorage = Jap. Arigan Boyti = Ger. Agrigan Ankerplatz (see above). Older geographic sources such as the Große Deutsche Kolonialatlas (Sprigade and Moisel 1901–1915) do not yield a richer

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turnout.13 In this German atlas, Map 28 which is dedicated to the Marianas and the Marshall-Islands does not identify any geo-objects on the GIs by name. In a sideways remark on the missionary activities in the beginning of the Spanish conquest, Fritz (2001: 13–14) speaks of the “relatively unimportant Gani islands.” Is it perhaps the case that the maps of the GIs do not identify geoobjects by name because the GIs themselves occupy a marginal position in the context of the Marianas? The economically more important and densely populated islands are in the south. Peripheral regions have been shown to escape colonial place-naming at times insofar as no exonyms are coined for geo-objects (Stolz and Warnke 2016). However, the absence of exonyms does not justify the parallel absence of endonyms. The recent desertion of the GIs can hardly be considered reason enough for the lack of place names in general since there was a prior period of permanent human presence on at least some of the GIs. Superficially, the GIs seem to give evidence neither of exonyms/hybrids nor of endonyms – a fact that would make these islands special in the context not only of CoCoTop but also of toponomastics and cartography in general as Section 5 suggests.

5 Jan Mayen In this section, we very briefly look at the Jan Mayen, an uninhabited island in the North Atlantic, which has been part of the Norwegian national territory since 1930. The island was discovered in the 16th century and has never been permanently settled although whalers used to visit the island more or less regularly. Their visits like those of shipwrecked sailors and scientific expeditions were usually seasonal and short-term because the local climate does not facilitate human survival over extended periods of time. These unfavorable conditions notwithstanding, the maps of Jan Mayen give evidence of a plethora of place names even though there are no settlements to speak of. Map 12 zooms in on the north-eastern tip of the islands.

|| 13 In the Deutsches Kolonial-Lexikon, each of the islands of the German colony boasts an individual entry of its own. As to the GIs, only Maug is representd by a map which features no place names but epichartica which identify certain geo-objects by common nouns: Durchfahrt ʻchannelʼ, Lavablöcke ʻlava rocksʼ, Hütte ʻhutʼ, and Brandung ʻsurfʼ (Schnee 1920: 528). Similar epichartica can also be found in the Große Deutsche Koloniatlas.

Places without names and names without places? | 129

It is easy to identify place names referring to geo-object like bays, hills, glaciers, capes, beaches, valleys, etc. For the sake of brevity, we select ten examples, namely a) Kronprinsesse Märthas Bre [glacier] lit. ʻCrown-princess Märtha’s glacierʼ b) Haakon VII Topp [peak] lit. ʻHaakon VII’s peak’ c) Krognessryggen [mountain ridge] lit. ʻKrogness’s backʼ d) Krossbukta [bay] lit. ʻKross’s Bayʼ e) Trinityberget [hill] lit. ʻTrinity Mountainʼ f) Trollstigen [mountain range] lit. ʻTroll Staircaseʼ g) Nordkapp [cape] lit. ʻNorth Capeʼ h) Kokssletta [downs] lit. ʻCoke Downsʼ i) Skansen [hill] lit. ʻentrenchmentʼ j) Varta [hill] lit. ʻwartʼ The place names (a)–(d) involve person names – either of royalty or of explorers, whereas (e) is based on the name of the ship Trinity. In the above list, Trinityberget with its English component Trinity is also the sole example of a place name which does not entirely consist of Norwegian elements. Orvin (1960) provides a book-length description of the toponomasticon of Jan Mayen. There are many place names similar in kind to those in (a)–(j) above. We do not exaggerate when we assume that there is hardly any corner of Jan Mayen that has not been named. Since this Norwegian island is uninhabited the functionality of the place names cannot be causally connected to the human need of spatial orientation. Place-naming is possible also without permanent human presence. Thus, the previous temporary and current desertion of the GIs is no good reason for the absence of place name for the geo-objects situated on the islands in the first place. Section 6 teaches us that there might be many more place names than the printed maps make us believe.

6 Names in search of places There is indeed tangible evidence of the existence of GI-related place names. Over many years, Scott Russell has unsystematically collected place names referring to geo-objects on the GIs while he was thumbing through documents of different genres for completely different reasons. His occasional hits amount to thirty-three cases which are presented in the two columns on the left of Table 3. The two columns on the right are ours. The rightmost host column hosts our analysis of the place names. Empty cells are indicative of our present state of

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ignorance as to the internal structure, origin, and meaning of the place name and its component parts.14 Table 3: Place names of geo-objects on GIs (as collected by Scott Russell).

Place name

Island

Geo-object class

As Biha

Agrigan

?

Analysis

Ch. as ‘at s.o.’s place’ + biha ‘old woman’ DET + N

As Mahalang

Agrigan

?

Ch. as ‘at s.o.’s place’ + mahalang ‘homesick’ DET + N

As Peligro

Agrigan

?

Ch. as ‘at s.o.’s place’ + Sp. peligro ‘danger’ DET + N

Chapanis

Agrigan

?

Ch. chapanis ‘Japanese’ N

Goneg

Agrigan

?

Lanchon Talo

Agrigan

farm?

Car. kkanég ‘waist-string’ (?) N

Ch. lancho ‘farm’ + -n LINKER + talo‘ ‘middle’ N-LINK N

Nonag

Agrigan

?

Pahong

Agrigan

?

Quiroga

Agrigan

?

Car. Paaghang ‘Pagan’ (?) N

Sp. name of Spanish conquistador N

Santa Cruz

Agrigan

?

Sp. santa ‘holy’ + cruz ‘cross’ ADJ + N

Songsong

Agrigan

settlement

Ch. sonsong ‘village’ N

Talak Katan

Agrigan

?

Ch. katan ‘north’ (talak?) N + ADJ (?)

Baranka

Pagan

?

Ch. barangka ‘rough place or passage covered with thickets’ N

Builitoma

Pagan

?

Car. bwiil ‘school of fish’ (toma?) N

Faibuis

Pagan

?

Car. bwiisch ‘to slide down’ (fai ‘canoe’?) V

|| 14 For Chamorro and Carolinian, our etymological wisdom is based on the information provided in the dictionaries compiled by Topping et al. (1975), Flores and Bordallo Aguon (2009), and Jackson and Marck (1991).

Places without names and names without places? | 131

Place name

Island

Geo-object class

Analysis

Hoya

Pagan

?

Ch. hoya ‘low area, valley’ N

Malas

Pagan

?

Palear

Pagan

?

Sp. palear ‘to shovel’

Pan San Mena Pagan

?

Ch. san-mena ‘further in front’ (pan?) N + CMP+ ADJ (?)

Pialama

Pagan

?

Regusa

Pagan

?

Salafae

Pagan

?

Talage

Pagan

?

Car. ttalangaw ‘have bad dreams/nightmares’ (?)

Arctic Ocean

Anatahan

?

Eng. Arctic ocean ADJ + N

Banko

Anatahan

?

Ch. bangko ‘bench’

Kannat Bulao

Anatahan

?

Ch. kannat ‛ditch’ + bulao ‘roasted breadfruit’ N+N

Songsong

Anatahan

settlement

V

V

N

Ch. sonsong ‘village’ N

Taberu

Anatahan

?

Fais

Alamagan

?

Partido

Alamagan

settlement?

Jap. taberu ‘to eat’ V

Car. fais(-al) ‘method of repairing a broken outrigger on a canoe’ N

Sp. partido ‘separated’ ADJ

Songsong

Alamagan

settlement

Ch. sonsong ‘village’ N

Partido

Sarigan

settlement?

Sp. partido ‘separated’ ADJ

Songsong

Sarigan

settlement

Ch. songsong ‘village’ N

With twelve and eleven instances, Agrigan and Pagan claim the largest shares of the GI-place names in Table 3. What emerges additionally is the fact that cartographically hitherto ignored place names are reported for all five of those

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GIs which were inhabited during the German period, viz. Anatahan, Agrigan, Pagan, Alamagan, and Sarigan. For twenty-six of the place names, it is impossible to determine their reference object. In three further cases, the identification of the geo-object class is doubtful. Together there are twenty-nine place names whose geographic coordinates are unknown to us. In the context of the toponomasticon of the Marianas, this is not an unusual situation. Bryan (1971), for instance, lists nineteen unlocated Japanese place names on Rota alone. For these colonial place names too, it is impossible to identify the geo-objects to which they refer. On the other hand, Bryan (1971) is at least able to determine the region of Rota in which these unknown geo-objects must be situated. The place names in Table 3 that can be exactly located on the maps are the four instances of Songsong. In Chamorro, songsong is a common noun meaning ‘village’. When we look at the maps of Agrigan, Anatahan, and Alamagan under the microscope we notice the presence of the English term village. In the case of Anatahan, the term has been added by hand to the already printed map. As to Agrigan, there is no dot which would indicate the exact location of the village. Maps 13–15 highlight the location of the settlements. The question arises as to the status of the term village on these maps. Is a generic term, a common noun that functions as a descriptive epicharticon? Or is it the English translation of Chamorro songsong? If the latter is the case, the problem is moved from English to Chamorro, in a manner of speaking, because if village translates songsong then it is possible that songsong too is only an epicharticon and not a place name properly speaking. As shown on Map 16, the fourth case of songsong mentioned in Table 3 is different from the three previously discussed instances. The map of Sarigan provides no clues as to where exactly the settlement is located since there is neither the epicharticon village nor the appropriate dot. To solve the problem provisionally, we have put songsong in the northern part of the island without accompanying dot. Our choice might not be correct. The Sarigan case does not help much to settle the question as to the status of the expression songsong on the maps.15 However, in Bryan’s (1971) list of

|| 15 Songsong forms also part of the island name Assongsong whose correct analysis is a matter of debate. Already Fritz (2001: 11) came up with two alternative interpretations, namely either that of assuming a verb assongsong ‘to settle in a village temporarily’ or a phrasal construction As Songsong ‘at the place of Songsong’. The former analysis cannot explain the occurrence of the first in the putative verb. The second analysis rests on the assumption that there is an old Chamorro family name Songsong.

Places without names and names without places? | 133

place names on Rota we find (under #36) another example of Songsong as alternative place name for the Chamorro-English hybrid Rota Village. Since Songsong is by no means the only village on Rota, it is reasonable to assume that we are dealing with a place name which exclusively consists of a classifier which, in turn, is identical to a Chamorro common noun. On this basis, the assumption makes sense that all other instances of songsong in the GIs are also place names and not descriptive epichartica. Fifteen of thirty-three of the place names in Table 3 have a relatively transparent Chamorro etymology. This is especially clear in those cases which reflect the binary construction [as N]place name. Topping and Dungca (1973: 125) classify as as a preposition meaning ‘at a place’ stating that it does not follow the exact same grammatical pattern as the other Chamorro prepositions do. It always precedes the name of a person – either a given name, surname or nickname. The preposition as is usually preceded by the preposition gi.

Under this provision, our above analysis of the construction would have to be changed to [as N]PP, i.e. the construction is understood as a syntagm, a prepositional phrase. However, in the same reference grammar of Chamorro, the authors argue that as “should not be considered only a preposition. It has all the grammatical features of an article in Chamorro” (Topping and Dungca 1973: 131). In all likelihood, as is not a preposition but the oblique form of the proper article si whose use is mandatory with person names. Independent of the correct structural analysis, it is clear that As Biha, As Mahalang, and As Peligro (in Table 3) are place names whose second component is a person name of some kind. Among the other cases in which person names play a role in the formation of the place names in Table 3, Quiroga stands out because it has a clear colonial tinge about it. We assume that it commemorates Don Joseph de Quiroga, the Spanish military leader who accomplished the conquest of the Marianas in the years 1680–1698 and can thus be considered the conquistador par excellence (Rogers 1995: 63–73). This colonial place name does not meet all of the expectations formulated in [H1]. Nevertheless, it reflects the general preference for anthroponymically based place names in the context of European colonialism. What makes this case especially intriguing is the problem of determining the period in which the place name was coined originally. Since Spain withdrew from the islands in the final years of the 19th century, it is difficult to accept the idea that the pro-Spanish place-naming is posterior to the termination of Spanish colonialism in Micronesia. In addition, there are another four place names which have a Spanish etymology to which As Peligro can be added since peligro is attested as piligru in Chamorro. As mentioned above, it is often difficult to

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distinguish Hispanisms in Chamorro from words taken directly from Spanish. For a minority of place names in Table 3, we assume a (potential) Carolinian origin. The presence of Chamorro and Carolinian place names for geo-objects on the GIs is unsurprising since the resettlement of the GIs starting in the second half of the 19th century involved at first a majority of Carolinians and later also Chamorros.

7 Conclusions The putative paradox of the co-existence of places without prior place-making and place-names without geographic referents has been shown to be a misconceived idea. There are place names referring to geo-objects in the GIs. However, for reasons yet to be determined, these place names have not been officialized to be represented on the maps of the GIs. It is worth noting that the published maps of the GIs do not only lack place names but are also almost completely devoid of epichartica in general. The data in Table 3 strongly suggest that there might be many more place names around and that one only needs to keep digging to unearth them. These yet to discover place names can probably be found only in people’s memory because they have never been put on paper. The former inhabitants of the GIs who have been evacuated to Saipan and Tinian after 1980 are likely to remember how they used to call certain geo-objects on the GIs they lived on. Similarly, they can help to identify the geo-objects for which there are place names but no geographical coordinates. Since the toponomasticon of the GIs forms part of the cultural heritage of the Marianas and their inhabitants it is mandatory to collect the hitherto unrecorded place names to reconstruct the GI toponomasticon and make it accessible to the interested public in the shape of a revised atlas of the GIs. The extant maps of the GIs are sweeped clean, in a manner of speaking. This means that neither genuine colonial place names nor postcolonial coinings are represented cartographically. In the absence of detailed historical information about the place-naming processes, we have to face the difficulty that, once we have found a formerly unrecorded place name, a decision has to be taken as to the classification of the item as either colonial or postcolonial place name. Chances are that this decision will be too difficult to make in many cases. Moreover, we have also seen that [H1] holds good for what happened during the Spanish, German, and US American colonial rule in the sense that the place names introduced by the colonial authorities largely conform to the expected patterns. The little evidence we currently have of the place-naming practices of

Places without names and names without places? | 135

Chamorro and Carolinian settlers in the GIs (as reflected by Table 3) is indicative of the existence of alternative patterns, i.e. the colonized employ models of place-naming different from those of the colonizers. We may add to this the Japanese case which is known not to reflect the common patterns of European colonialism. European-style colonial place-naming practices, Japanese colonial place-naming practices, and local Chamorro and Carolinian (post-)colonial place-naming practices meet in the Marianas and not the least also in the GIs to contribute to the intriguingly rich diversity of the toponomasticon of the islands. This diversity calls for being investigated thoroughly to the benefit of CoCoTop and related disciplines.

Acknowledgments: This study is meant to pave the ground for the annotated atlas of the GIs (accompanied by reports of former inhabitants of the islands in their native languages Chamorro and Carolinian plus English translation). this project-to-be will be conducted by us in cooperation with Ingo H. Warnke (Bremen). In July 2018 we visited Saipan for two weeks in order to discuss our ideas with the local academic, political, and cultural institutions. We are grateful to the government of the city state of Bremen for the financial support within the framework of the APF-program Sprachwissenschaften 2015–2019. The prequel to our project has benefitted considerably from the kind support by the then director of the Humanities Council of the Northern Mariana Islands, Scott Russell to whom we also owe the collection of place names featured in Section 6 of this paper. We are also grateful to the Governor of the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands, Ralph DLG. Torres, and the Lieutenant Governor, Victor B. Hocog, for welcoming our project idea officially. A preliminary report on the initial stages of the project was presented to the interested public on 15 November, 2018 as a lecture (Werkstattgespräch) at the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin. We say thank you to the members of the Deutsche Gesellschaft für Kartographie (Sektion Berlin-Brandenburg) for their thought-provoking comments on occasion of our talk. We want to express our gratitude to Wolfgang Crom (Berlin), Jascha de Bloom (Bremen), Daniel Schmidt-Brücken (Bremen), Hermann Hiery (Bayreuth), Leo Pangelinan (Saipan), Rlene Santos Steffy (Guam), Ingo H. Warnke (Bremen) and Farah Younis (Saipan) for lending us a helping hand (in many different ways). Everything we say in this study remains our own responsibility.

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Abbreviations ADJ ADV

Car. CCT Ch. CMP

CoCoTop DET

Eng. Ger. Jap. GI LINK N PP

Sp. V

adjective adverb Carolinian Canonical Colonial Toponym Chamorro comparative Comparative Colonial Toponomastics determiner English German Japanese Gani-Island linker particle noun prepositional phrase Spanish verb

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Appendix

Map 1: Divisions of the Mariana Islands. (United States Central Intelligence Agency. 1989. Northern Mariana Islands United States. Washington, D.C.: Central Intelligence Agency. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/91686576/).

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Map 2: Farallon de Medinilla. (United States Soil Conservation Service & U.S National Cartographic Center. 1986. Farallon de Medinilla. Northern Mariana Islands United States. Fort Worth, TX: USDA-SCS-National Cartographic Center).

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Map 3: Anatahan. (United States Soil Conservation Service & U.S National Cartographic Center. 1986. Anatahan Island. Northern Mariana Islands United States. Fort Worth, TX: USDA-SCSNational Cartographic Center).

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Map 4: Sarigan. (United States Soil Conservation Service & U.S National Cartographic Center. 1986. Sarigan Island. Northern Mariana Islands United States. Fort Worth, TX: USDA-SCSNational Cartographic Center).

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Map 5: Guguan. (United States Soil Conservation Service & U.S National Cartographic Center. 1986. Guguan Island. Northern Mariana Islands United States. Fort Worth, TX: USDA-SCSNational Cartographic Center).

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Map 6: Alamagan. (United States Soil Conservation Service & U.S National Cartographic Center. 1986. Alamagan Island. Northern Mariana Islands United States. Fort Worth, TX: USDASCS-National Cartographic Center).

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Map 7: Pagan. (United States Soil Conservation Service & U.S National Cartographic Center. 1986. Pagan Island. Northern Mariana Islands United States. Fort Worth, TX: USDA-SCSNational Cartographic Center).

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Map 8: Agrigan. (United States Soil Conservation Service & U.S National Cartographic Center. 1986. Agrihan Island. Northern Mariana Islands United States. Fort Worth, TX: USDA-SCSNational Cartographic Center).

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Map 9: Assongsong. (United States Soil Conservation Service & U.S National Cartographic Center. 1986. Asuncion Island. Northern Mariana Islands United States. Fort Worth, TX: USDASCS-National Cartographic Center).

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Map 10: Maug. (United States Soil Conservation Service & U.S National Cartographic Center. 1986. Maug Island. Northern Mariana Islands United States. Fort Worth, TX: USDA-SCSNational Cartographic Center).

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Map 11: Urakas. (United States Soil Conservation Service & U.S National Cartographic Center. 1986. Uracus Island (Farallon de Pajaros). Northern Mariana Islands United States. Fort Worth, TX: USDA-SCS-National Cartographic Center).

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Map 12: Jan Mayen (map section north-eastern tip). (Norsk Polarinstitutt. 1959. Norge topografisk kart over Jan Mayen. Nord-Jan. Blad 2. Oslo: Moestue).

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Map 13: Agrigan (with dot).

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Map 14: Anatahan (with dot).

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Map 15: Alamagan (with dot).

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Map 16: Sarigan (with Songsong).

Riccardo Contini and Luca D’Anna

Between Arabic philology and colonial enterprise Carlo Alfonso Nallino (1872–1938), Eugenio Griffini (1878– 1925) and Libyan toponymy Abstract: Italian colonial toponymy is an underresearched field of study, especially with reference to Libya. Some contributions exist concerning the final stage of Italian colonialism, when linguistic practices mainly aimed to Italianize the colonial space. This paper investigates the initial stage of Italian colonialism in Libya, with a specific focus on the internal debate concerning the transcription of Libyan place names and the role of Italian Orientalists. After a concise survey of the main scholars who animated the scientific debate and took active part in the colonial enterprise, the paper discusses two different handbooks for the transcription of Libyan place names, highlighting their different approach to the matter. Keywords: Libyan Arabic, toponymy, Italian colonialism, Arabic linguistics, language contact

1 Introduction Colonial Toponomastics, an innovative subfield of the long-standing language science known as Missionary Linguistics, lately subsumed under Colonial Linguistics, has very seldom, if ever, hitherto been practiced by specialists in Semitic, particularly Arabic, linguistics. Among a rapidly growing body of scholarly literature on the subject we choose to mention here only Stolz and Warnke (2015), Stolz et al. (2016), Dunker et al. (2017), and Stolz and Warnke (2018). A word may therefore perhaps not be amiss to explain the purpose and the scope of this paper on Libyan toponymy in the colonial age, delivered by a scholarly duet formed by a Semitist who has been practicing the history of Semitic lin-

|| Riccardo Contini, Oriental University of Naples, Department of Asian, African and Mediterranean Studies, Piazza San Domenico, 80134 Naples, Italy. E-mail: [email protected] Luca D’Anna, Oriental University of Naples, Department of Asian, African and Mediterranean Studies, Piazza San Domenico, 80134 Naples, Italy. E-mail: [email protected] https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-007

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guistics for some 30 years and by his pupil (and now colleague), an Arabic dialectologist and sociolinguist highly familiar with Libya and fluent in Tripolitanian Arabic.1 The first occasion to deal with this specific topic is actually due to the fact that our host Paolo Miccoli and both authors are all in different ways affiliated with the Oriental University of Naples, which claims the distinction of being the oldest Orientalist institution in Europe, established in the early 18th century by Father Matteo Ripa as the Collegio dei Cinesi, a Jesuit missionary school, which since underwent, what is particularly fitting to our topic, several onomastic shifts, becoming in 1868 the Real Collegio Asiatico, and, what is more pertinent for our present task, in December 1888 the Regio Istituto Orientale di Napoli, which at the very beginning of the last century was charged with the – mainly but not exclusively – linguistic training of civilian and military personnel destined to a professional career in the African colonies of Italy (Rivinius 2004; Guazzini 2007), most probably by imitation of such institutions as the Seminar für Orientalische Sprachen established in 1887 in Berlin and dedicated “to the linguistic and cultural training that would allow the administration of the German colonies to become more efficient” (Conrad 2010: 129). Though the Istituto Orientale (since 2003 renamed the Università di Napoli “L’Orientale”) is best known for its distinguished, still ongoing tradition in Ethiopian and Cushitic studies, closely linked in the colonial age to the administration of Africa Orientale Italiana (the names of Francesco Gallina [1861–1942], Enrico Cerulli [1898–1988] and Martino Mario Moreno [1892–1964] spring to the mind as figures of colonial administrators who were also remarkable scholars in the philology and history of languages and cultures of the Horn of Africa), it also gave, and still gives, significant contributions to the study and teaching of both Arabic and Berber varieties of Libya: relevant scholars for the colonial period were Francesco Beguinot (1879–1953), Antonio Cesàro (1901–1968) and Ester Panetta (1895–1983). Also linked to the Istituto Orientale, though not a professor there (but rather, twice called as extraordinary steward to save the institution from bankruptcy), was the prominent Arabist Carlo Alfonso Nallino (1872–1938), whose special interest in toponomastics, as being at the conjunction of his expertise in Arab geography and Arabic linguistics, was functionalized to the Italian colonial effort through the compilation of a famous booklet, Nallino (1915), which is the centerpiece of Luca D’Anna’s discussion in this paper of some significant unpublished documents which he unearthed among the Nallino papers housed at the Istituto per l’Oriente.

|| 1 While we are jointly answerable for the general structure of this paper, RC materially wrote §§ 1 and 2, LDA wrote §§ 3–6.

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2 The context and the protagonists of the querelle on Libyan toponymy in early colonial Italy Admittedly, however, research on Arabic (and Berber) colonial linguistic topics, including toponymy, is not as advanced in Italy as it is, for instance, in France: no wide-ranging history of colonial Arab studies, doubled by an exhaustive documentary repertoire, such as Alain Messaoudi’s massive Les arabisants et la France coloniale (Messaoudi 2015a and 2015b)2, is available so far for Italian Arabic studies in the colonial era. This thematic cluster has hitherto been approached by practitioners of different disciplines within the history – or rather, histories – of scholarship: several Arabists, unfortunately not always ex professo competent in Neo-Arabic dialectology and sociolinguistics, have surveyed the teaching tools produced for Libyan Arabic just after the conquest (in the years 1911–1914) and again, employing a somewhat more adequate descriptive methodology, in the 1930s after the so-called pacificazione of Tripolitania, Cyrenaica and Fezzan by Badoglio and Graziani (Sarnelli Cerqua 1971; Gabrieli 1983); in recent years, with due attention to the ideological implications of the Italian colonial discourse for (Neo)Arabic linguistics of the time (Airò 2003, 2012; Guardi 2003): none of these quite respectable essays, however, devoted any attention to Libyan toponymy, either indigenous or colonial.3 On the other hand, issues in Italian colonial toponomastics have been explicitly and ably dealt with by several linguists, most particularly by Laura Ricci, repeatedly within the frame of the Comparative Colonial Toponomastics (CoCoTop) project (Ricci 2005: 196–214; Stolz et al. 2016: 309, 341; Miccoli 2017, 2019). Quite understandably, their attention concerning Libya was mainly concentrated on the last of the three periods of Italian colonization in Africa (in Miccoli’s periodization: i) the liberal stage, 1882–1922, ii) the first fascist stage, 1922–1926, iii) the second fascist stage, 1936–1941), when governor Italo Balbo’s plan for “demographic” colonial settlements in both Tripolitania and Cyrenaica4 involved naming ex novo or renaming some of the villages assigned both to metropolitan settlers and to Muslim farmers: it is enough to mention here only the wellknown cases of Gubba (= Arabic qubbah ‘dome’) becoming Giovanni Berta

|| 2 Concerning colonial linguistics in the British sphere, see Zack (2016) on the production of Arabic manuals for the army during the British occupation of Egypt (1882–1922). 3 The few lines devoted in Contini (2011: 111) to this aspect of Nallino’s work are much too marginal to be counted as an exception. 4 See the relevant map in Evans-Pritchard (1949: 224).

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(Consociazione Turistica Italiana 1940: 426; Cresti 2003: 149) and of Zahra becoming Fiorita (Consociazione Turistica Italiana 1940: 426; Cresti 2003: 151; Scarin 1940: photo 83), respectively. Several scholars independently stressed the ideological conditioning of choosing names evoking rural or natural realities for native Libyan settlements, whereas names of historically significant Italian personalities of the Risorgimento or of the fascist regime (such as the militant activist Berta) were selected for villages inhabited by Italian settlers (Labanca 2002: 301; Ricci 2005: 204; Stolz et al. 2016: 342). They did not comment, however, upon the translational dimension of this process of assigning names which allegedly “decantano una natura risorta e festosa” [celebrate a revived and joyous nature (our translation)] (Ricci 2005: 204), but without a strict semantic or morphological correspondence between the Italian and the Arabic names. Thus, the noun Fiorita ‘flowering’ only loosely translates Arabic zahrah ‘flower’,5 and the same goes for several of the other toponymic equivalent pairs on Ricci’s list: e.g. Vittoria corresponding to Mansura lit. ‘the victorious one (f.)’ or Fiorente corresponding to Maamura lit. ‘the populous one (f.)’. This same renaming process was of course reenacted à rebours in independent Libya, e.g. the agricultural village Breviglieri (another instance of the conversion type of bare anthroponyms used as toponyms, cf. (Stolz et al. 2016: 336) was renamed al-Khadra (‘the green one’) (Consociazione Turistica Italiana 1940: 399; Cresti 2003: 161): but the whole issue of post-colonial renaming in Arab countries is still sadly underresearched. Morphologically more interesting are some of the endonym + exonym (therefore, hybrid) combinations produced by this renaming process, e.g. Arabic Bēḍa ‘the white one’ (actually az-Zawīya al-Bēḍa ‘the White religious lodge’) was renamed Beda Littoria, adding to the Arabic endonym – originally a chromonym – the modifier represented by the highly symbolic fascist adjective littoria: this case is thus structurally akin to the hybrid oikonym Asba Littoria [Ethiopia], recently discussed by Stolz and Warnke (2017: 213), the Amharic noun ásba ‘memory’ having also apparently been employed in pre-colonial times as the first constituent of an endonymic place name, e.g. Asba Tafari (Bombaci et al. 1937: 39). As we shall see shortly in the case study here examined by D’Anna, issues of Libyan toponymy were already considered by colonial officers and Arabists in the first, ‘liberal’, stage of Italian colonization, though instances of renaming

|| 5 Actually, this word was imported into Sicilian in the Norman age as zagara with the more specialized meaning ‘orange-blossom’, passing in the 19th century from Sicilian into Literary Italian.

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were certainly less frequent then: one should remember, though, that a systematic survey particularly of micro-toponyms, based on the interrogation of native informants, was often only possible in the fascist era, when military control of large regions beyond the coastal strip was gained between 1923 and 1931.6 Therefore, the first colonial maps of interior Libya produced before 1930 often relied on information supplied by previous travelers to the country7 and by French colonial cartography of the Saharan regions (Casti Moreschi 1995): this was one of the reasons of the extreme incoherence in the transcription of toponyms that confronted Italian colonial officers in Tripolitania and Cyrenaica as well as the Ministry of Colonies. Against this backdrop one should contextualize the querelle investigated by D’Anna in this paper. Two more categories of historians of scholarship have also dealt with colonial toponymy in Libya: firstly, of course, general historians of the Italian colonial expansion overseas (oltremare);8 secondly, and most topically for our purpose, historians of geography and cartography: while of course the comparison of atlases and colonial maps of Tripolitania, Cyrenaica and Fezzan between 1913 and 1940 has often already given occasion to useful remarks on Libyan toponyms, over 20 years ago Casti Moreschi (1995) stressed the importance of an ongoing methodological debate concerning lexical, historical-linguistic and geographical aspects of place names which took place in geographical conferences at the end of the 19th century (that is, a dozen years before the ItalianTurkish war for Libya). The key figure of this debate turns out to have been Salvatore Crotta (1865–1911), a lesser-known geographer and linguist from Como, who in 1899, on the occasion of VII. International Geographical Conference in Berlin, published the ambitious essay La trascrizione dei nomi di luogo ne’ suoi rapporti colla geografia e colla scienza del linguaggio [The transcription of place names in its connections with geography and linguistics]. Though Crotta’s booklet championing a simplified transcription system for geographical names based on phonetic criteria (mainly acoustic interchangeability), which involved imparting an essential grounding in phonetics to both professional geographers and travelers, in no way deals with the application of this solution to colonial || 6 See the maps of the chronology of the Italian (re)conquest of Tripolitania and Cyrenaica in Evans-Pritchard (1949: 186, 184). 7 Particularly by Friedrich Gerhard Rohlfs (1831–1896), extremely popular in Italy because of his support to Italian ambitions on Libya, whose works and maps were translated into Italian in the 1880s and 1890s and widely used by colonial and military personnel after 1911: see Rohlfs (1887). 8 See at least a representative selection: Bono (1982); Del Boca (1986, 1988); Labanca (2002); Baldinetti (2003); Cresti (2003, 2010).

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matters specifically, its implicit relevance for colonial toponymy would of course soon become acute in Italy: be that as it may, Casti Moreschi explicitly states that Nallino’s recommendations in his Norme of 1915 actually followed Crotta’s advice to give first priority to the local pronunciation of place names when proposing a transcription for them (Casti Moreschi 1995: 104).9 Nallino never actually quoted Crotta in his booklet, but this is not necessarily meaningful since he was known to be rather averse to championing explicitly any current theoretical stance in the several disciplines which he practiced as an Arabist, being more positivistically inclined to a painstaking attention to concrete, specific details:10 but it is highly probable that he regularly browsed the proceedings of both geographical and linguistic international conferences, so that Crotta’s proposal could hardly have escaped his omnivorous attention. It is now time, however, to sketch the essential profiles of the four scholars involved in the episode of the history of the transcription of place names in Italian colonial Libya to be discussed infra. Carlo Alfonso Nallino was the leading Arabic scholar of his age in Italy, with an unchallenged international reputation:11 a great philologist with firsthand expertise of most genres of Arabic technical literature besides belleslettres, he also had fieldwork experience, even as a linguist, being the author, inter alia multa, of a still valuable description of Egyptian Arabic (Nallino 1900). A firm believer in the political duties of an Italian Beamte, he contributed to the colonial effort in Africa in the pre-fascist age in several ways (Campanini 2011), most pertinently in teaching on Arabic geographical literature in Arabic at the newly founded University of Cairo in 1910 and 1911, in furtherance of a strategy of promotion of Italian culture in Egypt to gain sympathy for the country in a key Muslim state just before Giolitti’s Libyan adventure.12 He compiled the already mentioned Norme (1915) just before Italy entered the fray of the First World War, when any geographical – not to say toponymic – inquiry in Libya was suspended for several years. He had been a supporter of the liberal Statuti [statutes] conceded in 1921 to Libya, later rejected by Mussolini. During the first and second fascist colonial periods he was occasionally consulted on Islamogical matters pertaining to the Sanusi movement and quite vocally la|| 9 This principle was still explicitly asserted in 1929 in Bertarelli (1929: 8). Nallino (1915) seems also to have implemented Crotta’s recommendations (1899: 95, 101) for the simplified transcription of Semitic emphatic, laryngeal and pharyngeal phonemes. 10 This point is repeatedly made by several contributors to Cilardo (2011). 11 Essential information in Levi Della Vida (1938, 1963), and in the essays collected in Cilardo (2011). 12 As convincingly shown by Baldinetti (1997: 90–120, passim).

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mented the incompetence and arrogance of Italian colonial officers in Libya (and of their political chiefs), and in the 1930s had a famous clash for similar reasons with General Rodolfo Graziani, then governor of Cyrenaica, who dubbed the severe Arabic scholar who, on his periodical Oriente Moderno, unrelentingly criticized his treatment of Muslim communities, “il Gran Senusso” [the Grand Sanusi]. Nallino passed away in 1938, leaving a huge scientific œuvre and the invaluable legacy of a major research institution on Islamic studies hosting his extensive library and archive, the IPOCAN. Eugenio Griffini (1878–1925) was a self-taught Arabic scholar, who favored working on manuscripts rather than teaching (he never really occupied the chair of Arabic to which he was appointed at the Istituto Superiore – later University – of Florence): he is best known for starting the catalogue of the very important collection of Yemeni Arabic manuscripts of the Biblioteca Ambrosiana in Milan, whose keeper he was before accepting in 1920 the charge of director of the Khedivial library in Cairo, where he suddenly died in 1925, not yet 47 years old (Levi Della Vida 1923; Beguinot 1925; Soravia 2002). His main connection to Libyan colonial linguistics, including onomastics, was heretofore considered his – predominantly lexical – introduction to Tripolitanian Arabic L’arabo parlato della Libia (1913), but this was before D’Anna rediscovered among the Nallino papers the document of toponymic relevance (cf. below). A savant de cabinet more interested in Classical than in Spoken Arabic, Griffini later stated that he penned this pocket handbook as a patriotic duty. Most importantly, he also included in his manual of Tripolitanian Arabic a 40-page (Griffini 1913: 313–352) “Primo saggio di un elenco alfabetico di tribù della Libia italiana” [First essay of an alphabetical list of tribes in Italian Libya]. Griffini’s coeval, Dr. (but in the 1910s and 1920s: Col.) Enrico De Agostini (1878–1973) was an eminent representative of “Human Geography” (Ethnography not having yet been introduced as an academic discipline in Italy), who worked for the Ufficio Studi of both Tripolitania and Cyrenaica, and published massive monographs on the population of both (in 1917 and 1923, respectively), truly authoritative studies on the tribal structure of both regions, whereby he offered a significant contribution to our knowledge of tribonyms, which in an Arab country are of course highly pertinent also for the study of toponyms. In his contribution to the volume in honor of Francesco Beguinot (De Agostini 1949), he made a rather tongue-in-cheek mention of having seen his work appreciated by a former officer of the British army in Libya who was actually a professional anthropologist: this was of course Edward Evan Evans-Pritchard (1902–1973), author of the classical work on the Sanusi of Cyrenaica (1949), who incidentally there also alluded to the shift of colonial toponyms in Libya with

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the sarcastic but unobjectionable remark that “no apology is needed for using the Arab names for the sites of recently built Italian colonial settlements, in naming which the Italians commemorated persons who for the most part might well be forgotten” (Evans-Pritchard 1949: iv). In his article of 1949 De Agostini also offered a selection of amusing instances of (micro)toponyms and tribonyms – all of them endonyms – erroneously transcribed by the Italian officers who were supposed to help him in his surveys of Tripolitania and Cyrenaica. These offer instances of both fanciful and quite common misunderstandings, such as are well known to field linguists: e.g., the Italian female pet-name *Luisina substituted for the oikonym Luezia ‘almond-tree orchard’ or the anoikonym wadi *Lamnarfu, which is actually La, ma narfu-sc ‘no, we do not know [the name of this wadi]’, reproducing the answer of their local guides. Lastly, Francesco Beguinot (1879–1953), after an excellent training in Arabic and Amharic at the University of Rome, devoted himself to Berber studies, whose academic founder in Italy he reputedly was, becoming in 1915 the first incumbent of the chair established by the Ministry of Colonies at the Istituto Orientale (De Mauro 1965; Di Tolla 2015). Like the other three scholars here introduced, Beguinot was also instrumental to Italian colonial policy in Libya, e.g. in his attempt at furthering Berber ethnic and linguistic awareness in an antiArab function (exactly the strategy already employed by the French in Algeria). An expert in Berber toponymy (particularly as documented in the Lybico-Berber inscriptions which he collected in the Fezzān),13 he may well have encouraged his Berber informants to use Berber place names in lieu of their Arabic equivalents, but no trace of this emerges from his writings or from his correspondence.14 On the other hand, toponymic interests – unsurprisingly colored by explicitly imperialistic overtones – were cultivated during Beguinot’s second period (1925–1940) as Direttore (= rector) of the Istituto Orientale by promoting the publication by four of his most brilliant students (two of which, Bombaci and Rubinacci, were destined in their turn to become rectors of the institution) of a first introduction to Ethiopian toponomastics (Bombaci et al. 1937). These seem sufficient grounds for including him in a short sketch of the history of Libyan colonialist toponomastics in Italy.

|| 13 See also Beguinot (1915). 14 As our colleague Anna Maria Di Tolla, who organized the centenary conference of the chair of Berber in Naples in 2015, kindly informed us.

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3 Italian colonial toponymy From a toponymical perspective, the history of Italian colonialism can be roughly divided into three stages: 1) Liberal stage (1882–1922) 2) First Fascist stage (1922–1936) 3) Second Fascist stage (1936–1942) (Miccoli 2019) The three stages are characterized by their own unique linguistic trends in the choice of colonial toponyms, yet the Second Fascist stage, which started in 1936 with the (re-)conquest of Ethiopia, is by far the better researched. With particular reference to East Africa, Italian colonial toponymical practices are marked by the increase of pure exonyms and, within this class, of deanthroponymics based on the structure CLASS + ANTH (Miccoli 2019: 23).15 The increase does not mark a sharp discontinuity with the Liberal and First Fascist stage, which already knew such toponymical practices. The main difference lies in the intent behind the intensive use of deanthroponymics, and in particular in “[…] the associated meanings of revenge, claim and belonging that they evoke (Miccoli 2019: 33).” After the conquest of Ethiopia in 1936, in fact, the Italian Fascist regime pursued an ideological campaign of territory claiming through the use (among other things) of toponymy. The many anthroponyms emerging from maps dating back to the Second Fascist stage, in fact, mostly belong to explorers who perished during the scientific expeditions that paved the way to the colonial occupation of Ethiopia, or to officials who died on the battlefield during the war itself.16 During the Second Fascist stage, it is also possible to witness an increase of toponyms that totally lack a classifier, such as Bari d’Etiopia and Romagna d’Etiopia (although the possibility to interpret Bari/Romagna as pseudoclassifiers should be taken into consideration as well). This tendency is to be linked to the policies of demographic colonization implemented by the Regime during its last decade. As the Fascist government tried to follow a geographic criterion in the distribution of the settlers arriving from Italy, such toponyms were meant to ‘Italianize’ the space of the colony (Miccoli 2019: 26–27).17 In Lib-

|| 15 The terms pure exonyms, hybrid toponyms, pure endonyms, classifier and modifier (some of which will appear later) are drawn from Stolz and Warnke (2017, 2018). 16 Toponyms such as Villaggio Bòttego and Cascata Vannutelli e Citerni are textbook examples of the first category (Miccoli 2019: 25). 17 The idea was, in fact, to redistribute the colonizers based on their geographical provenance, in order to create more close-knit communities.

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ya, on the other hand, it is possible to observe the same tendency toward an increase of deanthroponymic toponyms, yet “[…]the deanthroponymic microtoponyms with a commemorative function recall mostly illustrious men of culture, personalities linked to the period of the Italian Risorgimento, individuals who played an important role in colonial politics” (Miccoli 2019: 30). The reader who is interested in a more detailed knowledge of toponymical practices during the Second Fascist stage is, once more, directed to Miccoli (2019). By contrast, the Liberal and First Fascist stage still represent an underresearched field of study, which poses several tasks to the scholars. In the immediate aftermath of the Libyan war, in fact, the Italian government was dealing with different issues, which reflected in the specific guidelines dictated (but not always followed) in the domain of colonial toponymy, after an initial stage marked by personal improvisation and uncoordinated attempts on the part of cartographers and officials on the ground. The next section aims at partially filling this lacuna, outlining the main issues and traits of Italian colonial toponymy during the Liberal and First Fascist stage, with specific reference to Libya.

4 Toponymical practices during the Liberal and First Fascist stage Italy occupied Libya between September 1911 and October 1912, even though the Italian control was not complete until 1931, when the hero of the Libyan resistance against the colonial aggression, Omar al-Mukhtar (1858–1931), was executed. The Italianization of the newly conquered space was not, in the aftermath of the conquest, an immediate concern for Italian policymakers. Nonetheless, some isolated voices started claiming the reclassicization of the most famous Roman and Greek sites even at this stage: Noi non andiamo, ma ritorniamo nella Tripolitania; […] La dominazione mussulmana, il governo ottomano sono da considerarsi come una lunga parentesi tra l’antico e il novissimo tempo. [...] per nessuna ragione, o d’arte, o di storia, o di tradizione, debbono persistere in Tripolitania i segni della interposta barbarie. Cioè a dire: noi parliamo di Tripoli, di Bengasi, di Homs, di Derna, di Tobruk, ecc.: perchè non risuscitiamo le antiche e autentiche denominazioni e [...] non restituiamo ai luoghi gli antichi nomi e non parliamo della Libia, di Berenice, di Leptis Magna, ecc.?18

|| 18 Renato Paoli, on the Rivista Coloniale ‘Colonial review’, quoted in Ricci (2005: 197–198).

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[We are not going, rather we are returning to Tripolitania; […] The Islamic domination, the Ottoman government are to be considered as a long parenthesis between the old and newest times. […] for no reason, artistic, historical, traditional, the signs of the interposed barbarity must persist in Tripolitania. That is to say: we speak of Tripoli, of Benghazi, of Homs, of Derna, of Tobruk, etc.: why don’t we revive the ancient and authentic denominations and […] don’t give back to the places their ancient names and speak of Libya, of Berenice, of Leptis Magna etc.? ] (our translation)

Positions like the one expressed by Renato Paoli, however, were part of the nationalist propaganda that animated some circles and did not find support, at least at this stage, in the government, which was facing more serious issues. The newly conquered territories were, from a cartographic and toponymical point of view, a kind of terra incognita, in which even recognizing and transcribing the place names was a challenging task. During this period, thus, the attention of the Italian government was mainly focused on devising norms for the transcription of the toponyms. Even in this case, the Rivista Coloniale [Colonial Review] found a way to funnel its nationalist propaganda, lamenting the employment of ‘foreign transcriptions’ (i.e. transcriptions containing letters not traditionally considered as part of the Italian alphabet), derogatively dismissed as ‘barbarian’. The campaign against the employment of foreign transcriptions, unlike the claim for a reclassicization of toponyms, enjoyed a certain success. For instance, Admiral Count Bettolo, the president of the Italian Colonial Institute, addressed a memo to all the institutions involved in the colonial enterprise, in which he explicitly requested them to refrain from resorting to any foreign orthography in the transcriptions of toponyms (Ricci 2005: 196–197). The call for an orthographic Italianization of place names found fertile ground in the Italian government, whose main preoccupations, however, lay elsewhere. As evident from the following letter, addressed on May 21st, 1916 by the Colonial Government of Cyrenaica (Governo della Cirenaica) to the Italian Ministry of Colonies (Ministero delle Colonie) in Rome, the accuracy of the maps available to the colonizers left much to be desired: L’edizione della “carta dimostrativa della Cirenaica occidentale” (1:200,000), stampata nell’Aprile dello scorso anno, è quasi esaurita. Prima di chiederne una ristampa, si crede opportuno richiamare l’attenzione di cotesto Ministero non tanto sulla parte cartografica, quanto su quella toponomastica. I nomi di località contenuti nei due fogli Nord e Sud, furono dedotti da carte precedenti all’occupazione italiana della Cirenaica, da carte compilate dalla Sezione cartografica dell’Ufficio Politico Militare su informazioni fornite da indigeni; qualche volta non si trovarono su nessuna altra carta e sono dovuti a ricerche del compilatore. Se non chè anche in questa si incontrano i difetti comuni a quasi tutte le carte dei paesi di lingua araba, e cioé: inesatta riproduzione della pronuncia locale o tradizionale; unione errata delle parole componenti un solo nome di località; errori di stampa non avvertiti che

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dànno luogo a denominazioni strane, spesso non corrispondenti neppure lontanamente alle vere, e simili (Fondo Nallino, I 1/12).19 [The edition of the “demonstrative map of Western Cyrenaica” (1:200.000), printed in the April of last year, is almost sold out. Before requesting a reprint, we deem appropriate to call the attention of the Ministry not to the cartographic part, but to the toponymical one. The place names contained in the two North and South sheets have been drawn from maps preceding the Italian occupation of Cyrenaica, from maps compiled by the Cartographic Section of the Political Military Office, based on information provided by the locals; on some occasions, they were not to be found on any map and are due to the personal research of the compiler. Also in this map, however, we find the defects that are common to almost all the maps of Arabic-speaking countries, that is: incorrect reproduction of the local or traditional pronunciation; incorrect univerbation of the words forming a single place name; unnoticed typos giving rise to strange denominations, often not even remotely corresponding to the original ones, and so on] (emphasis ours, our translation)

Following this letter, the Italian Ministry of Colonies decided to involve Carlo Alfonso Nallino in the revision of the map. In a letter dated December 27th, 1916, the Ministry requested Nallino’s opinion on a list of corrections to the toponyms reported in the map. A quick glance at the list is sufficient to spot many examples of the inaccuracies lamented in the above-mentioned letter (Fondo Nallino, I 1/12): Table 1: Incorrect toponyms and suggested corrections in the letter addressed to Nallino on December, 27th 1916.

Incorrect toponym

Correction

Loose phonetic transcription20

Inaccurate rendering of the “local” pronunciation Canafes

Chanáfes

xənāfəs

Carruba Seratel

Charrúbet esc-Scerátel

xarrūbət əš-šrātəl

Mairet Dellasc

Dmíret Dellásc

dmīrət dəllāš

Luisina

ed-Duéis

əd-dwēys21

|| 19 References to documents in the Nallino’s Fund at the Istituto per l’Oriente Carlo Alfonso Nallino (Rome) are based on Baldinetti (1995). 20 Given that an IPA transcription is difficult to reconstruct based on written data, the transcription provided here follows the guideline of the traditional orientalist transcription. 21 We are here reporting the toponym and suggested correction as occurring in the letter, well aware of the fact that Luezia ‘almond-tree orchard’ represents, as suggested above in the paper, a more satisfactory etymology of the toponym.

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Incorrect toponym

Correction

Loose phonetic transcription

Incorrect univerbation of two separate words Bedafon

Béda Fómm

bēḍā fəmm

el-Morassas

Umm er-Resás

umm əṛ-ṛəṣāṣ

Casa Auazarda

Háwa Zárda

hawā zardā

The list also shows a very inconsistent use of Italian classifiers in hybrid toponyms, of which some examples are worth mentioning: 1) baia ‘bay’ is employed to translate both bḥar ‘sea’ and bīr ‘well’, none of which corresponds to the Italian classifier. In the first case, moreover, the translation is not consistent, since we do find toponyms in which the Libyan classifier is preserved, such as Bahar Merir (amended in Báhar el-Merir) and Bahar Suaniat (amended in Báhar el-Sueniát). It is, thus, likely that the term ‘baia’ was unsystematically used for the phonetic resemblance to both bḥar and bīr; 2) casa ‘house’ is employed to translate the Libyan ḥawš/ḥōš ‘house’, but not the largely equivalent dār, which is simply transcribed; 3) monte ‘mountain’ is a textbook case of underspecification. It translates different, more specific, Libyan toponyms, such as ʕəlwa, ḏ̣ahar, šaṭīb and even maʕṭən ‘resting place for camels’ (probably due to a phonetic resemblance) and ʕayn ‘spring’. In some isolated instances, it is possible that quite a vague phonetic resemblance resulted in individual attempts at classicization. It is the case of Leptana, which corresponds to the Libyan əl-Bṭāna. Phenomena of partial devoicing in proximity of unvoiced consonants, such as ṭ [tʕ] are not unknown in Libyan dialects,22 which might partially justify the transcription. The resemblance of the incorrect toponym (later amended in el-Btàna) with Leptis Magna, possibly the most famous classical site of Libya, however, very probably influenced the choice of the compiler. Finally, even if this list dates back to 1916, three examples of plain classicization can be found, proving that the practice was not completely unknown at that time: 1) Lete23 < əl-ǧoxx əl-kəbīr ‘The great water cave’ (amended in Giócch el-Chebir) 2) Isola Menelao ‘Menelao Island’ (no Libyan toponym available) 3) Porto Menelao ‘Menelao Harbor’ (no Libyan toponym available) || 22 See, for instance, Pereira (2010: 39–40) for the Arabic dialect of Tripoli and D’Anna (2017: 129) for the Arabic dialect of Misrata. 23 The toponym here refers to the Lethe river, one of the five rivers of the underworld, known as the river of oblivion and widely cited in the classical sources. The fact that the Libyan river ran inside a cave probably suggested the connection with the underworld river.

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As evident from the samples, however, classicization was mostly resorted to when a Libyan toponym was not available to the compiler (2 and 3) or when the toponym was perceived as too generic (1), while the place itself was particularly evocative. Apart from the three samples just mentioned, pure exonyms are absent from the list. Hybrid toponyms, consisting of an Italian classifier and a Libyan modifier, are on the contrary abundant. A list of the Italian classifiers emerging from the list include: – baia ‘bay’, e.g. Baia di Carcura – bosco ‘woods’ – capo ‘cape’, e.g. Capo el Tin – casa ‘house’, e.g. Casa Auazarda – cascata ‘waterfall’, e.g. Cascata Ezzeronta – conca/conche ‘basin’ – costa ‘coast’ – isola ‘island’, e.g. Isola Chersa – monte ‘mountain’, e.g. Monte Arusc – palmeto ‘palm grove’, e.g. Palmeto di Huseein Dichil – piana ‘plain’, e.g. Piana di Mletania – porto ‘port’, e.g. Porto Menelao – punta ‘point’, e.g. Punta di Omm Sedra – regione ‘region’, e.g. Regione di Sebche e Dune24 – rovine ‘ruins’, e.g. Rovine Gamra The involvement of Carlo Alfonso Nallino in the revision of the toponyms is not casual. In 1915, in fact, the famous scholar had already published a handbook meant for officials and cartographers working in the colonial administration and containing a set of norms for the transcription of Arabic place names (Nallino 1915). This handbook was probably preceded by some reflection within the Italian Ministry of Colonies, as evident from the two competing works that will be the object of the next section. At this stage, the Italian government showed no interest whatsoever in the Italianization or classicization of Libyan toponyms. Their main aim, quite to the contrary, consisted in establishing a coherent system of tran-

|| 24 In this case, we are dealing with one complex modifier consisting of a coordinative combination of two nouns, complements of di: [{regioneN}CLASS {[diPREP [SebcheN eCONJ DuneN]NP]PP}MOD]TOP. The first noun is a Libyan loanword integrated in Italian (it takes the Italian plural morpheme -e), while the second is plainly Italian. The analysis of the toponym is here drawn from Stolz and Warnke (2018).

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scription and in reversing all those instances in which the Libyan toponym was no longer identifiable, in order to ensure a more efficient control of the territory and more effective communications with the local population. At the same time, as evident from the tone of some nationalistic periodicals, one of the priorities of the government consisted in ensuring the “Italianness” of the norms of transcription. It is, thus, probable that not only Carlo Alfonso Nallino, but also other scholars, such as Eugenio Griffini, were originally involved in the project.

5 Carlo Alfonso Nallino and Eugenio Griffini: competing approaches in the transcription of toponyms During our research in the Nallino’s Fund, hosted in the Istituto per l’Oriente Carlo Alfonso Nallino in Rome, we came across an unpublished document by the Italian Orientalist Eugenio Griffini (Nallino’s Fund, I 1/11, I2/6).25 The document, addressed to Nallino himself and dated Easter 1914, was titled I nomi indigeni di luogo nella regione libica. Studi, esperienze, proposte [Indigenous place names in the Libyan region. Studies, experiences, suggestions] (Griffini 1914).26 Apparently, Griffini wrote the handbook before Nallino, to whom he sent the manuscript for review. Nallino, after a very thorough examination process, which is evident from the notes and textual marks on the original, rejected it and wrote the norms himself. The comparison between the two handbooks, together with Nallino’s review, can clarify the reasons why Griffini’s work was rejected and provide precious insight into the genesis of colonial toponymical practices during the Liberal stage. The colonial administration was in need of a practical booklet that could be used by officials and cartographers, with a clear explanation of the orthographic norms and a wide exemplification of all possible exceptions.

|| 25 At the time when we conducted our research, the documents in Nallino’s Fund were in the process of being rearranged. For those cases in which a new identification number was already available, we have reported it after the number provided by Baldinetti (1995). 26 The document will be published by the author of the present paper in the near future.

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5.1 Griffini’s handbook Even at a glance, it is clear that Griffini’s handbook does not conform to the approach outlined above. The booklet itself is only 33 pages long (and it is followed by an appendix), yet half of it is devoted to purely theoretical issues. Griffini specifies that the norms he is describing are not the fruit of a reflection aiming to provide guidance for whoever has to transcribe Libyan toponyms. Quite to the contrary, they are the result of the writer’s own experience in actually transcribing Libyan toponyms and tribonyms. This clarification is of great importance, because it shows that the Italian government started consulting Italian Orientalists in the immediate aftermath of the conquest. The first application of Griffini’s norms even predates the Italian occupation of Libya by a decade, consisting of a list of administrative divisions and distances in Tripolitania, published on the periodical L’Esploratore Commerciale [The Commercial Explorer]. After the invasion, according to Griffini’s list, different Italian public institutions commissioned him to compile the following works: – Raccolta di notizie topografiche e costruzione degli itinerari attraversanti le zone di Tripoli, di Garian e di Tarhuna [Collection of topographic information and construction of the itineraries crossing the areas of Tripoli, Gharyan and Tarhuna], commissioned by the Missione in Libia dell’Istituto Geografico Militare (Tripoli, 1912); – Raccolta di notizie topografiche e di liste di nomi di tribù [Collection of topographic information and of lists of tribe names], commissioned by the Ufficio Politico Militare di Tripoli (Tripoli, 1912); – Costruzione degli itinerari Tripoli = Murzuc e Murzuc = Gat [Construction of the itineraries Tripoli = Murzuq and Murzuq = Ghat] (Tripoli, 1913); – Revisione, chiesta d’ufficio dalla Direzione Locale delle RR Poste, dei nomi degli uffici postali e telegrafici delle zone conquistate della Tripolitania [Revision, requested by the Local Direction of the Royal Mails, of the names of postal and telegraphic offices in the conquered areas of Tripolitania] 27 (Tripoli, 1913); – Revisione dei nomi contenuti sui lucidi e sugli appositi libretti toponomastici di campagna, relativi ai primi duemila chilometri quadrati di rilievo all’1:100.000, eseguito dall’Istituto Geografico Militare [Revision of the names included in the tracing papers and in the toponymical booklets of the military campaign, concerning the first two tousands square kilometers of

|| 27 Even though the date is 1913, i.e. after the official end of the Italian-Turkish war, the reference to the ‘conquered areas’ probably means that the surveys were carried out when the war was still in progress, and later reviewed by Griffini.

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–

the survey on a 1:100.000 scale, conducted by the Military Geographic Institute] (Tripoli, 1913); Revisione dei nomi geografici contenuti nella relazione “La Tripolitania Settentrionale” della Commissione per lo studio agrologico della Tripolitania [Revision of the geographic names included in the relation “Northern Tripolitania”, by the Commission for the Agrological Study of Tripolitania] (Roma, 1913) (Griffini 1914: 1–2).

Once again, this list proves beyond any reasonable doubt the extent to which the Italian government relied on the skills of Italian Orientalists already during the military campaigns. Despite the practical nature of a handbook for the orthographic transcription of toponyms, Griffini devotes half of his work to theoretical considerations. He does not even refrain from polemicizing against the Italian cartographers and officials, accusing them of having a superficial knowledge of both Arabic and Berber and of compiling their maps and lists of toponyms without any rationale (Griffini 1914: 4–6). After such an incipit, Griffini goes on to illustrate the different “forms” that one and the same toponym can have in Libya: Table 2: Possible forms of Libyan toponyms according to Griffini (Griffini 1914: 7).28

Proto-Berber Hamitic

Modern Berber Berberized Literary Arabic

Semitic Dialectal Arabic

Griffini then provides a list of etymologically Berber toponyms in their Romanized Berber, Berber and Arabicized form. This list clearly bears the marks of Nallino’s meticulous review, which amended a large number of toponyms from a formal perspective (mostly due to the lack of accents), but also questioned some of the suggested etymologies. The scarcely practical nature of Griffini’s approach is evident in the following pages. He writes, in fact, that officials and cartographers on the ground would not be able to choose which form to adopt

|| 28 In the same place, Griffini also mentions the possibility of toponyms of Greek, Punic, Latin, Turkish, Sudanese (sic!) and Germanic origin.

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and transcribe without adequate etymological studies, the knowledge of Arabic and Berber alone not being sufficient (Griffini 1914: 11–12). Another list of Berber etymologies and some basic notions of Berber nominal morphology are then provided. Pages 15–17 of the handbook are particularly relevant to the discussion of toponymical trends during the Liberal stage, because they concern the translation of Libyan (especially Berber) toponyms. Griffini writes that the toponymical booklets distributed to the officials working for the Istituto Geografico Militare [Military Geographical Institute] explicitly envisaged the necessity to translate Berber toponyms into Italian (Griffini 1914: 15). Judging from Griffini’s words, it is not entirely clear whether the translation was meant to supplant the endonyms on the maps or only to provide the military command with the meaning of the endonyms themselves. Griffini, moreover, does not seem to oppose the idea of a translation of the toponyms, which Nallino personally abhors, as will become evident later. The main hindrance to the translation process is only practical. The embryonic stage of Berber studies in Italy, according to the author, makes any attempt at translation doomed to certain failure. A related task consisted in the identification of all Roman sites based on historiographical sources, which was probably a preliminary step to the classicization of toponyms. Also in this case, according to Griffini, only an in-depth etymological study of Berber can help archaeologists to trace back the modern Berber or Arabic forms to their Latin origin. At this point, in an attempt to make a relevant example, Griffini incurs in a serious etymological mistake. The example chosen is the Roman toponym Vax Villa Repentina, which Griffini considers to be continued in the Berber word Blaza (amended in Blàza by Nallino). Nallino correctly points out that Blaza, actually Blāʕza,29 is a tribal name, whose singular form is Balʕazī and which is clearly not cognate with the Roman toponym. Despite his serious mistake, Griffini resumes his violent attack against the poor culture of most interpreters working in the colonies, whose ignorance makes the translation of the toponyms an impossible task (Griffini 1914: 16–17). Only at this point does Griffini start to provide practical considerations that might have been useful to officials and cartographers working on the ground. The first consideration is that, whenever a toponym appears in two forms, Berber and Arabic, the latter should always be privileged, for four reasons: 1) It is always shorter; 2) It has always been the only form recorded on official registers and maps;

|| 29 We have provided the conventional Orientalist transcription. Nallino, in his review, writes the name in the Arabic script.

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3) Due to point 2, the Arabic form is also the one used by Berbers when writing; 4) The Arabic form has been constantly chosen over the Berber also in Tunisia and Algeria, both by the Ottoman administration and by the French colonial rule (Griffini 1914: 17–18). Where a toponym is pronounced differently in different areas of the country, finally, the local pronunciation should always be preferred (Griffini 1914: 20– 21). After such generic advice, Griffini finally tackles the thorny issue of the transcription of toponyms, but not without yet another polemic attack, this time against geographers, accused of wasting time in sterile academic discussions (Griffini 1914: 22). The transcription of Libyan toponyms, in Griffini’s eyes, is but a part of the general problem of Libyan onomastics, so that the norms of transcriptions should be considered as valid for all classes of nouns. The scarcely practical nature of Griffini’s work emerges once more at this stage. Before designating the system of transcriptions that should be adopted, at least in his opinion, the Italian Orientalist discusses in detail three possible systems, with their pros and cons: 1) Il sistema fonetico o fisiologico [The phonetic or physiologic system]; 2) Il sistema dei digrammi e dei poligrammi [The system of digraphs and polygraphs]; 3) Il sistema della veste nazionale [The system of the national vest]. The phonetic system, despite its name, is described by Griffini (1914: 23) as a phonological transcription ante litteram, already employed by the author in his list of Libyan tribes included in Griffini (1913). The total list of ‘phonemes’ in Libyan Arabic includes 40 consonants. The use of this system, according to the author himself, should be confined to scholarly publications, mainly due to its impracticality and to typographical issues (Griffini 1914: 24–25). The system of digraphs and polygraphs is presented by Griffini as […] sistema razionale e pratico a un tempo, applicabile anche con i più modesti mezzi tipografici, con la dattilografia e con il telegrafo. È il sistema che viene universalmente applicato, per i suoni d’origine araba, nell’Impero Ottomano e in tutte le colonie inglesi, tedesche e olandesi; ma più particolarmente in tutti i paesi etnicamente misti, berbero=arabi, come (compresa) la Libia, cioè Tunisia, Algeria. Marocco, Senegal, Sudan Francese, Sahara Francese. (Griffini 1914: 25) [A system rational and practical at the same time, applicable even with the humblest typographical means, with typewriters and telegraphs. It is the system that is universally applied, for the sounds of Arabic origin, in the Ottoman Empire and in all the English, German and Dutch colonies; but more particularly in all the ethnically Berber = Arab

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mixed countries, like Libya (included), i.e. Tunisia, Algeria, Morocco, Senegal, French Sudan, the French Sahara.] (our translation)

Such a presentation leaves no doubt as to which system Griffini actually prefers, also due to the fact that only three spelling norms need to be introduced,30 i.e. the use of k, kh (for the Arabic xāʔ /x/) and gh (for the Arabic ġayn /ɣ/). Griffini also illustrates some other accessory writing and spelling conventions, specifying that the phonetic / physiologic system has already been used, in Libya, by the Ottomans and then by the Ufficio Traduzioni del Governo della Tripolitania [Translation Office of the Government of Tripolitania]. Even some maps of the Italian Istituto Geografico Militare have been drawn in accordance with this system, which appears to be the best candidate by looking at the way Griffini presents it (Griffini 1914: 26–27). Finally, Griffini introduces the sistema della veste nazionale, which involves the exclusion of all “foreign” letters, i.e. all the letters that were not considered as part of the Italian alphabet at the time when Griffini wrote his paper. This system, according to Griffini (1914: 30–31) has been used in Somalia and Eritrea for Ethiopian and Cushitic toponyms, but never for Arabic ones. It is, in its nature, quite similar to the system of digraphs and polygraphs, but featuring the following differences: – k, kh → c – gh, rh → g – j, y → i – w → u Griffini writes that this system, despite its doubtless “Italian taste”, is flawed by four major defects: 1) It is unable to reproduce the local pronunciation of toponyms. 2) It makes reading the toponyms to the local population impossible, creating communication problems. 3) It makes a retransliteration in the Arabic script impossible (because a single Italian letter transcribes more than one sound). 4) It can alter the real meaning of toponyms (even though the example provided by Griffini is imaginative to say the least). Despite all these drawbacks, Griffini concludes his discussion of the sistema della veste italica with the following words:

|| 30 Griffini actually lists four norms, but it is not clear which one is the fourth (Griffini 1914: 25–26).

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Si è però d’opinione che l’accennato pregio di una veste prettamente italiana pesi da solo di più, a favore dell’applicazione del terzo sistema alla toponimia e forse anche alla onomastica o stato civile della Libia, di quanto non pesino tutte insieme queste ed altre sue lacune. (Griffini 1914: 32) [Our opinion, however, is that the above-mentioned prestige of an entirely Italian system weighs more, in favor of the application of the third system to toponymy and possibly also to onomastics or civil registrars in Libya, than all these, and other, drawbacks put together.] (our translation)

This conclusion is not much of an endorsement on Griffini’s part. Quite to the contrary, it looks more as lip service paid to the cause of the Italianness of the system of transcription. Griffini makes clear that all rational arguments lean in favor of the international system of digraphs and polygraphs, while discouraging the impractical use of the “Italian vest”. The prestige of having a truly Italian system, however, outweighs all the arguments that Griffini himself had previously listed. It should also be noted that not a single sample of transcription is provided, except those ones that prove the unreliability of the Italian system, to which no more than three pages in the handbook are devoted. The impression of the reader is that Griffini expresses his preference for the Italian system only with great reluctance. At the same time, the criticism the scholar addressed to the system, sometimes sharply, was hardly acceptable in a situation where a nationalistic surge strongly demanded an Italian way in all the aspects of the colonial enterprise, including such trivialities as the system of transcription of toponyms. These factors, added to the inaccuracies mentioned in this section and highlighted by Nallino’s review, probably led the future director of the Istituto per l’Oriente to reject Griffini’s handbook and to write the norms himself.31

5.2 Carlo Alfonso Nallino’s handbook Nallino’s handbook was published in 1915 and then, again, in 1928, but without the author’s name. It is not entirely clear why Nallino’s name was removed. The eminent scholar certainly had his issues with the Fascist regime, in particular with Rodolfo Graziani. The disputes reached their peak in 1930, when journalist Sandro Sandri addressed Carlo Alfonso Nallino as the Gran Senusso in an article published on La Cirenaica, the official newspaper of the city of Benghazi (Cresti

|| 31 A complete list of such inaccuracies, with a more detailed analysis, will appear in the future edition of Griffini’s handbook.

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2004: 1124).32 It is not clear, to the best of our knowledge, if any divergence existed between Nallino and the Regime in 1928, yet the elimination of his name from the title of the handbook looks suspicious. Moving to the book itself, its more practical nature is evident from the very beginning, where the problem at hand is immediately stated in its double nature. The transcription of Libyan toponyms, in fact, needed clear norms for both the version in the Latin alphabet and in the Arabic script. Given the extremely different nature of the problems involved, the two issues would be handled separately (Nallino 1915: 5). At the same time, however, it is clear that Nallino benefited from Griffini’s handbook and made sure to avoid his mistakes, while recycling what he deemed useful. The necessity of a truly Italian system, not by chance, is immediately stated as the guiding principle for the transcription into the Latin alphabet: È stabilito come principio fondamentale che la trascrizione italiana dei nomi geografici della Tripolitania e della Cirenaica debba cercar di rendere con la maggiore approssimazione possibile la pronunzia indigena, valendosi tuttavia soltanto delle lettere e delle norme ortografiche della lingua italiana; escludendo per conseguenza (salvo l’eccezione per il gruppo ch) anche ogni convenzione basata su gruppi di lettere da pronunziarsi con suono diverso da quello che avrebbero in italiano. (Nallino 1915: 6) [We establish as a fundamental principle that the Italian transcription of geographical names of Tripolitania and Cyrenaica should try to render with the highest possible approximation the local pronunciation, employing at the same time only the letters and orthographic norms of the Italian language; thus also excluding (with the exception of the ch digraph) every convention based on groups of letters to be pronounced with a different sound from what they would have in Italian] (our translation)

Nallino’s debt toward Griffini is particularly evident from the discussion concerning the cons of the Italian system, which follows almost verbatim Griffini’s handbook, although in a milder tone. The list of drawbacks includes: 1) The Italian system reproduces in a very approximate way the local pronunciation, merging some consonants, failing to reproduce some other ones altogether and not distinguishing between long and short vowels. 2) It often creates confusion between very different names. 3) It makes difficult for soldiers on the ground to read those names to the local population. 4) It also makes any transcription from Latin letters into the Arabic script difficult and unreliable. || 32 As evident from the personal correspondence between Rodolfo Graziani and Carlo Alfonso Nallino, the incident was closed in 1931 (Cresti 2004: 1147–1149).

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5) It hinders historical, ethnographic and linguistic research, based on the exact transcription of the local toponyms (Nallino 1915: 6–7). Nallino, however, proved himself to be much more practically minded than Griffini. He suggested quite a straightforward solution, consisting in the inclusion of the toponyms in the Arab script in both the maps and the toponymical lists published by the Italian authorities (Nallino 1915: 7). The Arabic script, thus, would have easily solved the issue of communicating with the local population. Apart from this, the two handbooks have very little in common. Nallino only devotes another brief section to theoretical issues, specifying that the transcription will conform to the local pronunciation (not to literary Arabic or the dialect of Tripoli) and will always prefer the Arab form over the Berber one (Nallino 1915: 7–8). From this point on, the handbook is exclusively devoted to the discussion of the practical norms of transcription. The norms are always accompanied by a wide exemplification and a clear discussion of all possible exceptions. At the end of the part concerning the transcription in Latin letters, a long list of common classifiers and modifiers is reported, as a guideline for cartographers and officials on the ground (Nallino 1915: 7–8). The norms for the transcription in the Arabic script pose fewer problems. Nallino prescribes the use of the literary Arabic form, but without etymological reconstructions in those cases where the toponym is only known in its dialectal form (Nallino 1915: 26–27). Nallino, as already seen in his review of Griffini’s handbook, is particularly harsh with false etymologies. He consequently insists that the official transcription should follow the actual pronunciation and not, as sometimes occurs, the Arabic etymologies often superimposed on toponyms of Berber origin (Nallino 1915: 31). One of the samples cited by Nallino is the Berber toponym Lmáia, deriving from the name of a Berber tribe. The initial l has been often reanalyzed as the Arabic article,33 resulting in the transcription el-Máia (meaning ‘the water’ in Libyan Arabic), which should be avoided in favor of the original one (Nallino 1915: 20). The handbook is followed by an extremely useful appendix, including a list of the most frequent toponyms in Libya that also mentions, in brackets, the incorrect transcriptions identified by Nallino on maps and other lists (Nallino 1915: 35–43).

|| 33 This kind of reanalysis is by no means rare, and often resulted in the deglutination of the article, as evidenced in Cifoletti (2008: 128) for Tunisian and D’Anna (2018: 182–183) for Libyan.

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6 Conclusions In the present paper, we have presented some of the most important personalities in the field of Oriental studies in Italy, with specific reference to the period of the Italian colonial enterprise. The history of Italian Orientalism and its ties to the Liberal and Fascist governments is still a dramatically underresearched field, especially when compared to France and other European countries, and it would greatly benefit from more research. Among the characters presented in the first part of the work, the second part focused on Eugenio Griffini and Carlo Alfonso Nallino, trying to shed light on their relationship with Italian colonialism and colonial institutions, while at the same time investigating the scientific relation between the two scholars in the domain of colonial toponymy. With reference to Libya, Griffini appears to have cooperated with the Italian government and then the colonial authorities even before the invasion of the socalled Quarta Sponda [Fourth Shore]. During the Libyan campaign, moreover, he remained a constant reference for the different Italian governments in matters concerning Arabic and the transcription of toponyms. When, however, the situation called for the establishment of a set of norms, to be published in a handbook for officials and cartographers, Griffini sent his drafts to Nallino, who apparently rejected them and wrote the norms himself. Griffini’s handbook proved to be unfit for the necessities of the Italian colonial administration, for a number of reasons. First, it was highly unpractical in its nature: Griffini devoted more than half of the handbook to theoretical considerations, described three different transcription systems and only dedicated three pages to the one that he advised should be used for the transcription of toponyms. The tone of the entire handbook, moreover, was not sufficiently patriotic, at a time when nationalist propaganda glorified the Italian efforts in the colonies. Griffini, on the other side, repeatedly accused Italian colonial employees of ignorance and incompetence, while the Italian system of transcription, despite being chosen, was labelled as unfit for the transcription of Libyan toponyms. Nallino’s handbook, on the other hand, explicitly stated the necessity to adopt a fully Italian system, showing greater political shrewdness. Nallino did not hide the drawbacks of such a system, but also suggested, and implemented, effective solutions. Nallino’s handbook devotes very little space to theoretical considerations, which are only offered when they relate to practical issues. At the same time, it does not leave any room to ideological motivations in the treatment of toponyms. Etymological reconstructions, translations and classicization are explicitly forbidden, once again showing that philological accuracy remained Nallino’s guiding principle.

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These two case studies, finally, also give us an idea of colonial toponymical practices during the Liberal and the First Fascist stage.34 It is evident that the priorities of the Italian government were, at that time, quite different from the ideologically charged policies of revenge-themed and land-claiming name assignment described in Miccoli (2019). The Italian government was mostly dealing with practical issues, to which the Italian Orientalists were called to offer solutions. Even at this time, however, it is possible to glimpse the first signs of those nationalist ideas, claiming the classicization of toponyms and the erasure of the ‘Islamic parenthesis’, which Fascism will later fuel. On a final note, the implementation of Nallino’s norms was not a simple process. At the end of 1930, after the second edition of his handbook, a letter received from Enrico De Agostini (Governo della Cirenaica – Servizio Studi [Government of Cyrenaica – Studies Service]) (I 1/12) informed Nallino that maps were still being printed using the old transcription norms and that the Servizio Studi was pessimistic about the actual possibility of implementing the new norms, due to their complexity. The solution suggested by De Agostini simply consisted in complementing the Italian transcription, whichever system it was based on, with the Arabic script, to ensure that all toponyms were readily recognizable. Nallino’s solution to the drawbacks of the Italian transcription (i.e. the addition of Arabic), thus, ended up making any attempt at rationalizing the transcription look futile, due to the disambiguating presence of the Arabic script. This is, however, a field in which much research still needs to be done, in order to ascertain if, and to which extent, Nallino’s norms were ever implemented, by looking at both published and military maps.

Acknowledgments: The authors would like to express their heartfelt gratitude to Nataliya Levkovych and Paolo Miccoli, the organizers of the conference “Colonial Toponomastics” (Bremen, September 24–25, 2018), for inviting them to take part in it. We also thank our colleagues at the IPOCAN (Istituto per l’Oriente Carlo Alfonso Nallino) in Rome – the President, Claudio Lo Jacono, the Counsellor, Daniela Amaldi, and the Librarian, Fabio Barbaro – who most kindly assisted us in our consultation of papers from the Nachlass of Carlo Alfonso Nallino: these are now being reordered, with different archival numbering from Anna Baldinetti’s published inventory (1995).

|| 34 Nallino’s handbook was reprinted in 1928, during the first Fascist stage, when he was also consulted by the colonial authorities in matters concerning the consistency with which his norms were being applied.

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Abbreviations ANTH CLASS CONJ MOD N NP PP PREP TOP

anthroponym classifier conjunction modifier noun noun phrase prepositional phrase preposition toponym

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Gabrieli, Francesco. 1983. L’arabistica italiana e la Libia. Annali della Facoltà di Scienze Politiche dell’Università di Cagliari 9. 395–401. Griffini, Eugenio. 1913. L’arabo parlato della Libia (Manuali Hoepli). Milano: Ulrico Hoepli. Griffini, Eugenio. 1914. I nomi indigeni di luogo nella regione libica. Studi, esperienze, proposte. Milano: Unpublished. Guardi, Jolanda. 2003. Le discours colonial italien à travers les grammaires et les manuels d’arabe. In Anna Baldinetti (ed.), Modern and contemporary Libya. Sources and historiography, 99–112. Roma: IsIAO. Guazzini, Federica. 2007. Istituto Universitario Orientale. (ed.) Siegbert Uhlig. Encyclopaedia Aethiopica. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Labanca, Nicola. 2002. Oltremare. Storia dell’espansione coloniale italiana. Bologna: Il Mulino. Levi Della Vida, Giorgio. 1923. Eugenio Griffini. Rivista degli Studi Orientali 10. 726–730. Levi Della Vida, Giorgio. 1938. Carlo Alfonso Nallino. Oriente Moderno 18. 459–478. Levi Della Vida, Giorgio. 1963. A un venticinquennio dalla morte di Carlo Alfonso Nallino. Oriente Moderno 43. 526–530. Messaoudi, Alain. 2015a. Les arabisants et la France coloniale. Savants, conseillers, médiateurs (1780–1930). Lyon: ENS Editions. Messaoudi, Alain. 2015b. Les arabisants et la France coloniale. Annexes. Lyon: ENS Editions. Miccoli, Paolo. 2017. Italokoloniale Toponomastik zwischen Liberalismus und Faschismus. In Axel Dunker, Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Benennungspraktiken in Prozessen kolonialer Raumaneignung, 187–204. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Miccoli, Paolo. 2019. Colonial place-names in Italian East Africa (Africa Orientale Italiana AOI) with additional data from Tripoli. In Brigitte Weber (ed.), The linguistic heritage of colonial practice, 17–36. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Nallino, Carlo Alfonso. 1900. L’arabo parlato in Egitto. Grammatica, dialoghi e raccolta di ca. 8000 vocaboli. Milano: Hoepli. Nallino, Carlo Alfonso. 1915. Norme per la trascrizione italiana e la grafia araba dei nomi propri geografici della Tripolitania e della Cirenaica. Roma: Casa Editrice Italiana di C. De Luigi (per il Ministero delle Colonie). Pereira, Christophe. 2010. Le parler arabe de Tripoli (Libye). Zaragoza: IEIOP. Ricci, Laura. 2005. La lingua dell’impero. Comunicazione, letteratura e propaganda nell’età del colonialismo italiano. Roma: Carocci. Rivinius, Karl Josef SVD. 2004. Das Collegium Sinicum zu Neapel und seine Umwandlung in ein Orientalisches Institut. Ein Beitrag zu seiner Geschichte. Sankt Augustin: Steyler Verlag. Rohlfs, Friedrich Gerhard. 1887. Tripolitania. Viaggio da Tripoli all’oasi Kufra. Milano: Vallardi. Sarnelli Cerqua, Clelia. 1971. Il contributo italiano agli studi di dialettologia araba. Gli studi sul Vicino Oriente in Italia dal 1921 al 1970, vol. II, 131–139. Roma: Istituto per l’Oriente “Carlo Alfonso Nallino.” Scarin, Emilio. 1940. L’insediamento umano nella Libia occidentale. Roma: Ministero dell’Africa Italiana. Soravia, Bruna. 2002. Griffini, Eugenio. Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani. Roma: Istituto dell’Enciclopedia Italiana. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2015. From missionary linguistics to colonial linguistics. In Klaus Zimmermann (ed.), Colonialism and missionary linguistics, 3–25. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton.

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Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2017. Anoikonyme and Oikonyme im Kontext der vergleichenden Kolonialtoponomastik. In Thomas Stolz, Ingo H. Warnke & Axel Dunker (eds.), Benennungspraktiken in Prozessen kolonialer Raumaneignung, 205–229. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2018. System- und diskurslinguistische Einblicke in die vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Eine gemeinsame Einführung. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik – Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 1–75. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas, Ingo H. Warnke & Nataliya Levkovych. 2016. Colonial place names in a comparative perspective. Beiträge zur Namensforschung 53. 279–355. Zack, Elizabeth. 2016. Arabic language guides written for the British Army during the British occupation of Egypt, 1882–1922. In Daniel Schmidt-Brücken, Susanne Schuster & Marina Wienberg (eds.), Aspects of (post)colonial linguistics. Current perspectives and new approaches, 1–26. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton.

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Part III: Reports

Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen and Ivalu Kristine Lidsmoes

Danish colonial toponomastics Abstract: Whereas Scandinavian place names from the Viking colonization of the British Isles and Normandy are well-studied, the toponymy of the extraEuropean colonies administered by Denmark (-Norway) from 1620 to 1979 – i.e. Tranquebar, Danish Guinea, Danish West Indies and Greenland – has hardly received any scholarly attention at all. This chapter provides a short introduction to the history of the overseas colonies of Denmark-Norway, with a special focus on its toponomastic aspects. This if followed by a presentation of a planned project on Danish colonial place-naming policies and practices in the Danish West Indies (now U.S. Virgin Islands) and Greenland. Keywords: place names, colonies, Denmark-Norway, Danish West Indies, Greenland

1 Introduction In spite of the fact that both Denmark and Norway always have been relatively small in terms of population numbers compared to the rest of Europe, the two nations have a surprisingly long and extensive history of colonial endeavors. Since the ninth century, Norwegian and Danish Vikings set out to colonize virtually all the islands of the North Atlantic (Hebrides, Orkney, Shetland, Faroe Islands, Iceland and Greenland) as well as establishing significant colonial settlements in the already densely populated regions of Ireland, Scotland, England and Normandy. Short-lived Norse colonies may even have existed as far away as New Foundland (Vinland) in North America and Galicia in northwestern Spain. Of all these Viking colonies, only Iceland and the Faroe Islands have remained fully Scandinavian. The Norwegian reign on Shetland, Orkney and the Hebrides ended in the thirteenth century, while the settlements in Greenland died out in the early fifteenth century. All the remaining colonial settlements of the Viking period on the British Isles and in Normandy had al-

|| Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen, University of Copenhagen, Department of Nordic Studies and Linguistics, Emil Holms Kanal 2, 2300 Copenhagen, Denmark. E-mail: [email protected] Ivalu Kristine Lidsmoes, University of Copenhagen, Department of Nordic Studies and Linguistics, Emil Holms Kanal 2, 2300 Copenhagen, Denmark. E-mail: [email protected] https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-008

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ready by then for long been swallowed up by the surrounding communities through peaceful assimilation. Apart from differing amounts of archaeological finds, the most tangible evidence of this Viking colonial presence is usually found in the toponymy. The extensive number of Norwegian place names on Shetland and Orkney has been acknowledged for long (e.g. Crawford 1987; Gammeltoft 2001), while recent studies have established that Norwegian names on both settlements and landscape features also were widespread on the Hebrides and all along the northern and western coast of mainland Scotland (e.g. Jennings 2004; Woolf 2009). The overwhelming number of Scandinavian settlement names in Danelaw England, i.e. northern and eastern England (e.g. Stenton 1947; Fellows-Jensen 1972, 1978, 1985), and Normandy (e.g. Wagner 1998; Mabire 2016; Axelberg and Særheim 2017) equals the numbers of known medieval settlement names in their colonial homelands (Norske Gaardnavne, Danmarks Stednavne, Sandnes and Stemshaug 1997; Jørgensen 2008), and hereby almost double the toponomastic source material for medieval Denmark and Norway altogether. Linguistic differences in the included word elements have also increased our understanding on the national composition of the colonial settlers: while the toponomastic influence in north-west England, Scotland and on the Scottish isles appears almost exclusively Norwegian (and Norse-Gaelic, e.g. with Norwegian settlers arriving via Ireland), the Scandinavian colonization in Danelaw England seems to have been predominantly Danish. Whereas it was long debated whether the Viking colonization in tenth-century Normandy came from Denmark or Norway, the place name evidence is now interpreted to suggest a mixed composition, not least containing a huge element of Norse-Gaelic and Anglo-Scandinavian settlers coming to the new colony in northern France from the older colonies on the British Isles (e.g. Ridel 2007; Jakobsen 2009). Outside the five “Viking cities” in Ireland (Dublin, Wexford, Waterford, Cork, and Limerick), no Scandinavian settlement names have yet been identified here, but numerous coastal features along the coasts of both Ireland and Wales appear to have been compounded from Scandinavian word elements, signifying the strong maritime impact of the visitors (e.g. Charles 1934; Schulze-Thulin 1996; Redknap 2000; Ó Corráin 2001; Fellows-Jensen 2008). Finally, it is not least based on toponomastic evidence that recent studies have suggested a Viking colonial settlement in Galicia in north-western Spain (Garcia Losquino 2018). In the present article we will, however, not engage any further with this early phase of Danish and Norwegian colonialism, but focus only on the two nations’ activities in the later period traditionally connected to European colonialism – which in our case begins in the early seventeenth century.

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2 An introduction to the colonial history of Denmark-Norway In a colonial-historical context, it is common to label Denmark as a sole colonial power, but until 1814 it is more correct to speak of a combined DenmarkNorway. The originally two independent kingdoms were joined in 1380 as a personal union with one regent (based in Denmark), but with individual laws and governments. It was from this union that also Greenland, Iceland and the Faroe Islands became subject to the Danish king. In 1536, Norway’s nominal status as a kingdom on its own was terminated, along with its local government, and it was henceforth governed as a province within the kingdom of DenmarkNorway, with Danish as the administrative language.1 This continued until 1814, when Norway was first incorporated as a province into Sweden and eventually, in 1905, again became an independent kingdom on its own. However, at the secession in 1814 the North Atlantic provinces of Greenland, Iceland and the Faroe Islands remained under Danish administration. While Iceland gained its full sovereignty in 1944, Greenland and the Faroe Islands are now selfgoverning countries in a political and royal union with Denmark. The early-modern phase of colonial involvement for the kingdom of Denmark-Norway began in 1616, when King Christian IV founded Ostindisk Kompagni [East India Company] in order to secure his kingdom a share of the lucrative trade between India and Europe. The Prince of Tanjore in 1620 allowed the Danes to establish a fortified trading station on the coast of south-east India called Tranquebar (today Tarangambadi). Tranquebar eventually became center for a whole set of Danish trading stations around India, collectively known as Dansk Ostindien [Danish East India]: 1696–1722 Oddeway Torre (south-west India), 1698–1714 Gondalpara (West Bengal), 1755–1845 Serampore (West Bengal), and 1756–1868 the Nicobar Islands in the Gulf of Bengal (near Sumatra). The primary colonial focus of Denmark-Norway in East India was on facilitating the import of spices, textiles and tea from India and China. As competition began to diminish the profit of the trade, the two main trading stations in Tranquebar and Serampore were sold off to Great Britain in 1845, followed by the last Danish colonial foothold in Asia, the Nicobar Islands, in 1868.

|| 1 Because of this outspoken political as well as linguistic bias in the administration of the post-medieval kingdom of Denmark-Norway, the term ‘Danish’ will in the following be used as adjective for matters concerning the joint kingdom, rather than the nominally perhaps more correct term ‘Dano-Norwegian’.

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From the mid-seventeenth century onwards, colonial ambitions of Denmark-Norway were extended to also including Africa and the Americas. During the war between Denmark-Norway and Sweden in 1658–1660, a short-lived Swedish colonial engagement in Africa was put to an end, when the fortress Fort Carolusborg on the Coast of Guinea (today Ghana) was taken by Danish naval troops in 1658. A Danish Guineisk Kompagni [Guinea Company] was formed in 1659 to exploit the new possibilities in Africa, where a line of Danish fortresses were established along the Guinean coast between Accra and Keta: 1659–1685 Frederiksborg, 1661 Christiansborg, 1736 Fredensborg, 1783 Kongesten, 1784 Prinsensten, and 1787 Augustaborg. Just as in India, the Danish colonial engagement in Guinea was limited to fortified trading stations, which could only be upheld with permission of the local African kings, on conditions that continuously had to be renewed and defended against local warlords and rival colonial powers. The actual Danish authority is said to have only reached out “the length of a gunshot” away from the forts; within this zone, sea ports and “negro villages” were established outside the fortress walls. Initially, the European interest in Guinea was the import of gold and ivory (hence the geographical names Gold Coast and Ivory Coast), but around the time of the Danish arrival a new commercial exploitation of human slaves became the prime colonial focus in Guinea. Local kings and warlords sold captive fellow Africans as slaves to the European trading stations, from where they were sailed to America and sold as slave laborers, especially at plantations. This also soon became the primary activity for the Danish colonial involvement in Guinea, partly aimed at sale of slaves to other colonial powers in America, but eventually also to man the plantations of Denmark-Norway’s own colonies in the Caribbean. When slave trade was prohibited by Danish law in 1803, an attempt was made by the Danes to establish plantations along the Coast of Guinea, but the project was never fully supported by the politicians in Copenhagen, and the entire Danish colony in Guinea was sold off to the British in 1850. In order to fully exploit the profitable possibilities of the slave trade, a third branch was added to the colonial empire of Denmark-Norway in 1672, when King Christian V acquired the island of St Thomas in the Caribbean Sea, eventually to be followed by the nearby islands of St John and St Croix in 1718 and 1733 respectively. As a consequence, the Danish Guineisk Kompagni was in 1674 changed into the Vestindisk-Guineisk Kompagni [West India–Guinea Company]. While the two former islands were acquired by military claim – in some rivalry with the British – the latter was bought from France. Contrary to the Danish involvement in India and Guinea, the Dansk Vestindien [Danish West Indies] formed a colony in its full meaning, as it was not just fortified trading stations

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(which were, in fact, established in Charlotte Amalie on St Thomas, and in Christiansted and Frederiksted on St Croix), but also included actual colonization of the surrounding rural districts on the islands, mainly in the form of plantations manned with settlers brought in from Denmark and Norway, or – equally common – with planters of Dutch or British origin coming from other Caribbean islands. The slave-labor-based production on the plantations was predominantly focused on tobacco, cotton, sugarcane and rum. The produced goods were especially sold in mainland America or brought back home to Denmark-Norway. In addition to its rural income, the Danish West Indies produced a significant urban income from its three ports, which functioned as trade centers for African slaves to the entire Caribbean region as well as for Caribbean goods destined for Europe. For a long time, all the tropical-colonial activities of Denmark-Norway were administered by private companies (East India Company, West India-Guinea Company, etc.), but in 1755 both the West Indies and Guinea were taken over by the Danish Crown. Something similar happened in East India in 1777, when Tranquebar and Serampore were also placed directly under the Crown, but here the trade privilege remained private with the Danish Asiatisk Kompagni [Asian Company]. When slave trade was prohibited within the realm of Denmark-Norway in 1803, it naturally also affected the profits gained from the Danish West Indies, and the profitability virtually all disappeared when slavery as a whole was prohibited by Danish law in 1848. In 1917 it was decided to sell the Danish West Indies to the U.S.A., where the three islands are now known as the U.S. Virgin Islands. In the 1720s the Danish colonial empire was further (re-)extended northwards. Since the Norse settlement in south-west Greenland had extinguished in the first half of the fifteenth century, repeated plans had been laid by the Crown of Denmark-Norway to re-colonize the big Arctic island, but the project was not successfully implemented until 1721, when a joint mercantile and clerical expedition led by the Norwegian missionary priest Hans Egede established a new Scandinavian colony centered in Nuuk (Da. Godthåb) on the south-western coast of Greenland. From here further expeditions were sent around Cape Farewell to the almost inaccessible east coast as well as to the far north. Any hope to find descendants of the medieval Norse settlers proved to be in vain, and since the first Norse colonization, Inuits originating from Canada had settled in virtually all habitable parts of the Greenland coastland. An economic-colonial interest in Greenland sprang from an old desire to find the so-called “Northwest Passage”, a sea route from Europe to Asia along the north coast of America. Soon, however, especially Dutch and British merchants realized that the seas around Greenland themselves contained quite profitable goods to be harvested,

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not least from whales (whale oil and blupper), but also walrus ivory and furs were increasingly bought from the Inuits and brought to Europe. Naturally, the Danish government was eager to control this lucrative trade as well, and the Greenlandic Inuits were made subject to Danish colonization and Christianization. Although obviously different in some ways from the tropical colonies of Denmark-Norway, Greenland was in fact exploited and administered like all the other colonies within the empire, and the Greenlandic Inuits treated as a colonized people. The colonial status was not officially abandoned until 1953, when Greenland was fully integrated in Denmark as an ordinary county. This arrangement only lasted to 1979, when Greenland was granted hjemmestyre [home rule] as an autonomous region within the kingdom of Denmark. Since then, Greenland’s privileges of self-government have been continuously extended – eventually opening for the possibility of full secession, when and if the Greenlanders should so decide. An offer in 2019 from U.S.A. to buy Greenland has been jointly rejected by both Denmark and Greenland.

3 Place names and place-naming practices in the Danish colonies The question of choice of language for colonial place names is by no means straightforward. Practically all European colonies were multi-lingual, reflecting the national divergence of the colonial authorities, colonized natives, immigrated settlers, imported slaves, visiting merchants, etc. In terms of colonial toponomastics, this could be even more outspoken as many place names were formed prior to the present administration, and often the same place would have alternative names in different languages. This toponymic-linguistic variation was very much the case for the Danish colonies.

3.1 Danish East India The European colonial activities in India had relatively little toponomastic impact, as the entire region was already well settled and administered by Indian principalities, and for long the European presence was limited and in accordance with the local Indian authorities. Thus, the main foreign contribution to Indian place names in this period was in the form of Europeanizations of existing Indian place names, which were difficult for the newcomers to pronounce. When the sea ports Tharangambadi and Srirampur – for which the original

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etymology is ‘the town with the singing waves’ and ‘the town of the god Ram’ – were given to Denmark-Norway, their names were altered to Trankenbar (English: Tranquebar) and Serampore respectively; these variant forms have no meaning in Danish, but were easier to use for the colonial administration. In case of the latter, an alternative official Danish name Frederiksnagore was in fact introduced as a linguistic hybrid name, coining the name of King Frederik V with the Indian word nagar ‘city’. This otherwise unusual naming procedure in Danish colonial toponomastics (on the phenomenon in general, see Stolz and Warnke 2018: 24–26) undoubtedly sprang from an earlier, but short-lived attempt to establish a Danish trading station in the area, called Danmarksnagore (today Gondalpara), also a hybrid name, which itself owed its inspiration from the adjacent French colonial city of Chandernagore (today Chandannagar). The name Frederiksnagore was, however, only used in very official relations, whereas Serampore remained the name used in daily life and administration. In the longest-living Danish colony in India, Tranquebar, a set of Danish place names also developed within the urban area. A fortress constructed right after the acquisition in 1620 was named Dansborg ‘the Danes’ castle’, the streets of the town were given Danish names (e.g. Dronningens Gade, ‘Queen Street’, and Smedegade, ‘Blacksmith Street’), and also a hillside situated just outside the fort was named in Danish, Dansholm ‘Danish hill’. Such a microtoponomastic intraurban Danish place-naming did not occur in Serampore, where the most famous Danish-sounding name probably was The Denmark Tavern, a public house owned by an Englishman, who used to run an inn called The London Tavern in Calcutta. In addition, when a Protestant-Christian church was founded in Serampore in 1806 it was named Sankt Olavs Kirke ‘Church of St Olav’, a somewhat peculiar choice of name for a Protestant church community, who should not worship saints, but the name had strong connections to Denmark-Norway, where hundreds of St Olav’s Churches existed since Catholic times; it has even been suggested that rather than the medieval Norwegian king saint, the name was chosen to honor its contemporary building owner, Ole Bie. A more extensive Danish colonial place-naming took place when DenmarkNorway acquired the Nicobar Islands in 1756. The islands were to be administered under the joint name Frederiksøerne ‘Frederik’s Islands’, just like Frederiksnagore named after King Frederik V, and colonial settlements Ny Danmark ‘New Denmark’ and Ny Sjælland ‘New Zeeland’ were tentatively established on the islands of Grand Nicobar and Nancowry respectively, later followed by Frederikshøj ‘Frederik’s hill’ and Frederikshavn ‘Frederik’s port’, again named after Danish kings; toponomastically, a lot was done to secure a continued royal support for this late colonial project, which was constantly on the brink of termination. A

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perhaps more curious example of Danicization of existing place names on the Nicobar Islands is given with the native village Inuanga on Nancowry, from which the settlers produced a new settlement name Ingewange, which could have easily existed in a homely Danish toponymy (‘the field of Inge’ or ‘the field by the meadows’).

3.2 Danish Guinea (Guldkysten) When the Danes arrived to Africa in the mid-sixteenth century, the toponomastic situation was already a linguistic patchwork of initial African names (e.g. Keta and Ningo); Portuguese names given by the European first-comers to the scene (e.g. Cabo Corso (now Cape Coast) and Rio Volta); names given by the two main colonial actors at the Coast of Guinea of the time, the Dutch and the British (e.g. Fort Goedehoop and Fort James with Jamestown); and pan-Europeanizations of local African names (e.g. Accra from Nkran). The altogether six Danish fortresses established along the coast were all given Danish names coined by either a royal personal name as modifier and the classifier -borg (‘fortress, castle’): Christiansborg, Frederiksborg, Augustaborg; the same classifier with the substantive modifier Fredens- ‘peace’; or the royally denoting modifiers Kongen- ‘king’ and Prinsen‘prince’ coined with the classifier -sten ‘stone built castle’. In Africa, the Danish administration does not appear to have changed much of the existing toponymy, apart from occasionally Danicizing Accra to Akra. Secondary Danish place names occurred to a limited degree within the fortified port areas, for instance on minor military installations (e.g. Prøvesten at Christiansborg), and mansions (e.g. Frederiksgave). When a short-lived attempt was made to establish plantations a little inland within the Danish controlled area, these were given Danish names (e.g. Frederiksberg and Frederiksted), but otherwise virtually no Danish place-naming took place outside the fortifications, where Danish trade lodges at the coastline between the forts as well as the villages formed immediately outside the fortress walls predominantly were given African names (e.g. Osu). It is noteworthy that most of the Danish colonial place names used in Guinea were copies of exactly identical names already known on castles and places in Denmark or elsewhere in the Danish colonial empire and, thus, had no connections whatsoever to the local African conditions.

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3.3 Danish West Indies The numerous Caribbean islands in the ocean to the east of Central America were by large named already in the late fifteenth century, as they were mapped by Columbus and subsequent explorers coming from Spain. Several of the islands are named after saints, allegedly because they were registered and named by the Europeans on the feast day of the particular saint (Val Julián 2011: 74– 78). Thus, when Columbus reached a large group of small islands to the east of Puerto Rico on 21 October 1493, the calendar of saints had come to St Ursula and the 11,000 virgins, for which reason he named the islands collectively as Las Once Mil Vírgines ‘The 11,000 Virgins’; and from this derived the present-day name forms in English and Danish of the Virgin Islands and Jomfruøerne respectively. The three of the Virgin Islands, which later would become the Danish West Indies, were individually named after St Thomas, St John and the Holy Cross – or in Spanish Santo Tomás, San Juan and Santa Cruz. These originally Spanish names were partly kept as the islands gradually came into Danish possession – a feature often seen for colonies initially named with Spanish hagionyms, but later taken over by other colonizing nations (Stolz and Warnke 2019: 30). When the Danes colonized St Thomas in 1666–1672, they also claimed prescriptive right to the uninhabited, neighboring island named after John the Baptist, which was not actually colonized until 1718. While Santo Tomás now became Sankt Thomas in Danish, as this is the Danish form of the name, a less straightforward choice was made in the case of its neighbor. The most obvious translation of San Juan into Danish would have been Sankt Hans, which is indeed the name of numerous Danish churches dedicated to either St John the Baptist or his Evangelist namesake. But in this case the Danish administration chose an adapted Dutch name form Sankt Jan (from Dutch Sint-Jan). The reason for this is unclear, but it was probably partly due to the fact that the vast majority of the actual settlers on the Danish West Indies were of Dutch or British origin – and perhaps for the British in particular the name Hans was not the easiest to pronounce. The alternative solution of simply choosing the already then existing, present-day English name form, Saint John, was probably less attractive for the Danish administration, since the Danish claim for this island for many years was challenged by the British crown. The third and final of the Danish West Indian Isles, Sankt Croix, was bought from France in 1733. In this case, the Danes do not even seem to have considered introducing a Danish name form, which would have been something like Helligkors Øen, but instead decided to continue the name form, which had prevailed since the French took over the island in 1651. However, the continuity appear to have been in the written form only, as the name apparently right from the beginning was changed into a Dan-

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ish pronunciation [krøj’s], which probably also here was influenced from Dutch (Dutch kruis, ‘cross’). Collectively, the islands governed by the Danes were called Dansk Vestindien ‘Danish West Indies’ or De Danske Colonier i America. The term West Indies was not a Danish invention, as it was used by basically all European colonial powers about the islands of the Caribbean Sea. When the Caribbean islands were named after a country located on the other side of the globe, it was because Columbus found them on his search for a western passage to India. Based on this idea, the logical position of the islands would strictly speaking be to the east of India, but the term Ostindien ‘East India’ was already used for the colonial powers’ bases in the Indian Ocean to the south and east of the actual India. During the new administration, Danish naturally became the official language of the colony, but a large part of the planters and settlers were of Dutch and English origin. The main language among the slaves brought in from Africa was a Dutch-inspired Creole, while the influential missionaries of the Moravian Church had German as their native tongue. As a consequence, Danish was far from being the sole linguistic choice, when new places were named. Linguistic hybrid names as well as purely Danish names were widely introduced on all three islands. These include numerous still-existing names on terrain formations (e.g. Kalkun Cay ‘Turkey Island’) and former plantations (e.g. Enighed, ‘concord, agreement’), as well as on the three main towns on the islands: Charlotte Amalie on St Thomas (named after the Queen of Denmark 1670–1699, married to King Christian V); Christiansted on St Croix (named after King Christian VI of Denmark, reign 1730– 1746); and Frederiksted on St Croix (named after King Frederik V of Denmark, reign 1746–1766). In addition to this, the most distinctive Danish impact on place names on the islands is found in the urban street names of the three towns, with such names as Kongens Gade ‘King Street’, Dronningens Tvær Gade ‘Queen Cross Street’, Bjerggade ‘Hill Street’ and even Wimmelskaftet ‘crank brace drill’, directly referring to the U-shaped handle of this tool, but indirectly also to a similar street name, Vimmelskaftet, in Copenhagen. While such names are enjoyed by Danish tourists as curious remnants of the colonial period, they naturally become a challenge to most present-day American-Caribbean inhabitants, both in terms of pronunciation and decoding of the names’ etymology. After the transfer to U.S.A. in 1917, some Danish place names have been changed to English, but the major towns still have their original names, just as most of the urban street names are preserved, although some in an archaic spelling form (e.g. Kronprindsens Gade, which in modern Danish would be Kronprinsens Gade). Two commissions in 1920 and 1993 have suggested an overall reform of street names in particularly Charlotte Amalie, substituting the colonial Danish names with colloquial alternatives,

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either in the form of direct English translations or with completely new and more up-to-date names. Until now, however, all such reformist attempts have been dismissed by the authorities, who have given priority to the importance of the cultural heritage of the old Danish names. In practice, however, a pragmatic compromise is implemented in numerous street signs around the three towns, which both bear the old Danish name and its present-day colloquial alternative in English (Jakobsen 2017).

3.4 Greenland When the Danish colonization of Greenland began in 1721 with the landing of the missionary Hans Egede near what is now Nuuk, many places – including the land itself – already had names. Not only did the expedition carry maps and descriptions made by other Europeans with them, they also met the local Inuit inhabitants, and soon many place names of Greenlandic origin were in use by the colonial administration. The name Greenland (Danish Grønland) itself was given to the land by the Norse settlers who came to the island in the late 900s. The Norse settlers in Greenland, from whom the last known recording is from 1408, have left us with about 115 place names through the written sources, but without any maps their precise locations cannot be ascertained, and the Old Norse place names were not used by the new colonial administration (Kleivan 1996: 128). Instead, they relied on newer maps, their own discoveries and, of course, the locals. The earliest recorded place names of interest, besides the ones of Norse origin, were the result of growing European interest in discovering the Northwest Passage (e.g. Schuster 2018). In the second half of the sixteenth century, several British explorers sailed north along the west coast of Greenland describing and to some extent mapping what they discovered. Place names like Frobisher Strait, Davis Strait and Cape Farewell were a result of these early British expeditions (e.g. Schuster 2019). Throughout the sixteenth century, almost all the Danish-Norwegian kings had shown some interest in sending expeditions to Greenland mainly to reconnect with their lost Greenlandic subjects (Gad 1967: 223–263). All of these plans remained, however, fruitless, and it was not until the British and other Europeans had shown their growing interest in finding the Northwest Passage and in the prospect of whaling that the Danish-Norwegian king finally sent out expeditions in the early seventeenth century. On the earliest Danish expedition in 1606, led by the experienced English sailor James Hall, place names for fjords and capes were named after royalty (Cape Christian, named after the Danish king, Queene Anne’s Cape and Queene Sophia’s Cape named after the queen and the queen mother respectively) or

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high officials (Mount Cunningham, after the commander of the ship, James Cunningham) (Kabell 1990: 297–298; Schuster 2019). Except for Cape Christian, none of the names from these early Danish expeditions remained in use (Kleivan 1996: 138). After three expeditions in the service of the Danish king, James Hall managed to get funding for one more, although this time on British initiative. The most notable place name from this expedition is probably Bal’s River named after Richard Ball, one of the merchants who had contributed financially to the expedition. This particular place name was featured on many later maps and was in fact used by the Danish colonial administration in Greenland as late as 1809 (Ostermann 1935: 204), although it appears in various Danish spellings (Baals-Revier, BalsRevier, Baalsrevier). Not long after the 1612 expedition, the Dutchman Joris Carolus sailed to the west coast of Greenland, and throughout the rest of the seventeenth century Dutch traders and whalers travelled extensively along the coast. The intensity of Dutch whaling and trading grew and reached a peak in the beginning of the eighteenth century (Gad 1984: 145). Places of particular importance, fruitful hunting and fishing spots, good trading places, harbors and particularly dangerous spots were named by the Dutchmen. The earliest of these names include Statenhoek, Brielsche haven and Delfsche haven. Of these early Dutch names Statenhoek, which was named in honor of the Dutch StatenGeneraal, was frequently used in eighteenth-century Danish administration. Statenhoek was the name of the southernmost part of Greenland, a spot passed by every ship sailing from Europe to the west coast of Greenland. Later Dutch place names include Roo bay, Honde Eylande, Zuyd Bay and Rommel Pot. One of the most important Dutch sailors and cartographers, who went to Greenland in the early eighteenth century, was Laurens Feykes Haan, who made several maps covering the part of West Greenland frequently visited by the Dutch. In 1720 a very detailed description of the Greenlandic west coast by Feykes Haan was published. This publication was probably essential to the Danish 1721 mission in the case of navigation and finding the most suitable place along the coast (Bobé 1914: 3). Even though many of the named locations along the coast were hospitable spots and places worth describing, it was not the Danish administration’s first concern to rename these places. Instead they used the Dutch and English names although often in a Danicized form. In addition to these non-Danish names, Egede had not been in Greenland long before place names of Inuit-Greenlandic origin began to appear on maps made by Danish colonial administrators. One of the first maps drawn by Egede himself includes the names Ujaracksuack, Pesichfiarbame and Amaralich Fiord. The latter of the three is composed by a Greenlandic part and a Danish descriptive part, Fiord, and these kinds of hybrid place names with a Greenlandic prefix and a

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Danish suffix became relatively common during the colonial period (Petersen 1985: 229). All three of the above-mentioned names are on fjords in the area close to the first colony on the small island Haabets Øe. After arriving at the expected spot at 64 N (Danmark og kolonierne: Grønland: 51), the party sought out a suitable location in which to winter and the choice fell on the mentioned Haabets Øe ‘The Island of Hope’ named after the ship Haabet ‘The Hope’, which had brought them there safely (Kleivan 1996: 140). During the Danish colonial period in Greenland, colonies were first established along the southwest part of the island and then on the east coast and in the northern-most part of the west coast. In many cases these colonies were named after royalty (Frederikshåb, Christianshåb, Julianehåb) or other important people for trade or mission (Egedesminde, Holsteinsborg, Jakobshavn). But the Danish administration would also reuse Dutch names in a Danicized form, such as Sydbay (Zuyd Bay), Sukkertoppen (Zuikerbrood) and Hunde Ejland (Honde Eyland). Parallel to the European names, the Greenlandic Inuits maintained their own names for most locations, and the Greenlandic names were increasingly used in the colonial administration as well, for instance as names on colonies (Nanortalik, Uummannaq, Upernavik) and for smaller settlements and fjords. Throughout the colonial period, more and more place names of Greenlandic origin appear in the source material. The number of place names of Danish origin was not reduced because of this, rather it can be seen as the result of a wider administrative control of the country. After the introduction of home rule for Greenland, it was politically decided in 1996 that in cases with both a Greenlandic and a European toponym for the same location, the Greenlandic was authorized as the sole official form (Godthåb > Nuuk, Holsteinsborg > Sisimiut, Julianehåb > Qaqortoq); in cases with no Greenlandic name, the European name was authorized (Kruse 2012: 154–155). As the Greenland PlaceName Committee is the highest authority on the matter in the entire Danish realm, all public authorities in Denmark as well are officially obliged to use the Greenlandic place name forms as prescribed by the committee (Elkjær 2017; Rasmussen 2017). The place names of Greenland have been collected, registered and authorized since the 1980s by the Greenland Place-Name Committee, and in 2018 the committee could launch an online database of more than 33,000 authorized and digitally geolocated place names.

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4 Short historiography on Danish colonial history, linguistics and toponomastics The colonial history of Denmark-Norway has until recently only received limited attention within the general public, apart from an occasional romantic view upon our historical connection to the tropical colonies, especially in the Caribbean. The scholarly attention has been more extensive, although Danish colonial history almost always has been treated only as an exotic niche, somewhat separated from the national Danish-Norwegian history in general. For a long time, the only comprehensive work on the tropical colonies of Denmark-Norway was Vore gamle tropekolonier (1952–1953) in eight volumes written by different authors. In addition to this, and with a more specific focus on the Danish West Indies, a couple of broader works (e.g. Westergaard 1917; Hornby 1980) and a number of more specific works (e.g. Lawaetz 1902; Sveistrup 1942; Nielsen 2001; Gøbel 2002) are worth noting. Also scholarship from the U.S. Virgin Islands has made some noteworthy contributions (e.g. Hall 1992; Tyson 1992; Highfield and Tyson 1994; Knight 1998; Hayes 2013). The colonization of Greenland has been studied more extensively throughout the years from different aspects (e.g. Bobé 1936; Sveistrup and Dalgaard 1945; Gad 1967–1976; Lidegaard 1991; Bro 1993). Along with the 100 years jubilee in 2017 of the sale of the Danish West Indies (The Transfer Centennial) and the upcoming 300 years jubilee in 2021 of Hans Egede’s arrival to Greenland, new scholarly and public interest in Denmark-Norway’s colonial past has flourished in recent years. As an outcome of this, a grand variety of archival material on Danish colonial history has been digitized and made available online (see below) and a new comprehensive series on Danmarks kolonihistorie [The Colonial History of Denmark] was published in 2017 in five volumes, this time also with a specific volume on Greenland. Along with this, several monographs on differing specific topics have been published within the most recent years (on the tropical colonies: e.g. Gøbel 2015; Andersen 2017; Simonsen 2017; Petersen 2018; on Greenland: e.g. Rud 2017; Frandsen 2019), and a new atlas on Danish cartography from 2019 has extensive sections with maps and cartographical comments from all the colonies (Dam 2019: 323–342 on Greenland and 354–393 on the tropical colonies). One thing that still remains rather untouched is the linguistic aspects of the Danish colonial empire. The main contributions within this field on a general linguistic level for the Danish West Indies and Greenland are all quite recent and mainly in the form of specific articles, for instance focusing on Danish vs. Dutch as administration language or the Creole spoken by the slaves in the West Indies

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(Liebst 1996; Bakker 2003; Sebro 2010; Sabino 2012; Bøegh 2018; Bakker forthcoming. For further on these, see the article by Kühl and Holmegaard Aastrup in the present volume), or on language and colonialism in nineteenth-century Greenland (Manniche 2002, 2003). For a more comprehensive study of Greenlandic vs. Danish in Greenland, see Meilandt (2002). Onomastically, a small treatise on personal naming patterns in Greenland from 1799 to 1915 was made in 1918 (Bertelsen 1918), while a recent study has examined naming practices for enslaved Africans brought to the Danish West Indies (Abel et al. 2019). In toponomastic terms, Greenland has gained scholarly attention on several aspects. In 1985, Robert Petersen gave a most valuable, although brief, introduction to place names and place-naming practices and policies in colonial and post-colonial Greenland in general. This has been followed up by updated – but still only brief – accounts by Kruse (2012) and Lidsmoes (2017). The no longer extant Norse place names in Greenland from the medieval times have been treated by Jónsson (1899) and Andersen (1982). The post-medieval European influence on Greenland toponymy has been analysed further by Kleivan (1996), who has also accounted well for the political discourse of Danish versus Greenlandic place names in the administrative use of post-colonial Greenland (Kleivan 1977, 1985). Most recently, Lidsmoes (2015) has looked at the historical relation between names in different languages in Greenland (i.e. Dutch, English, Danish, and Greenlandic), while Schuster (2019) has studied various types of structures and possible motivations for different nationalities of early European place names in Greenland. The particular toponomastic situation in north and north-eastern Greenland, where virtually only European place names are in use still today, has been described by several scholars (Laursen 1972; Higgins 2010; Schuster 2018). Also, the specific topic of glacier names, and the problem with identifying the glaciers in question, has recently been addressed with a digital dataset made available online (Bjørk et al. 2015). As for the tropical colonies of Denmark-Norway, almost no toponomastic studies have been made so far – at least not by Danish scholarship. When the Danish West Indies had been sold to the U.S.A. in 1917, James William McGuire of the U.S. Coast and Geodetic Survey collected a catalogue of place names on the U.S. Virgin Islands, which was published in 1925 as a Geographic Dictionary of the Virgin Islands of the United States (McGuire 1925). The catalogue contains all the place names on the islands in their contemporary forms registered by the American authorities at the takeover, with a geographical identification of its location and a short explanation of the meaning, especially for names of Danish, Dutch, French, or Spanish origin. McGuire had taken great effort in going through old maps and other written records to fully comprehend the

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material, but all such additional data is unfortunately not included in the catalogue, and the toponomastic evidence was not analysed any further by him. The continued presence of Danish place names in the U.S. Virgin Islands has naturally been noted by many observers dealing with the history and geography of the islands, but rarely with any further toponomastic thoughts. In 1976, Joey Lee Dillard argued that the numerous poetic and humorous English place names outside the towns on St Croix (e.g. All for the Better and Profit, Upper Love, Dot’s Folly and Judith’s Fancy) should probably not only be explained by Danish influence, as otherwise often suggested, since a similar pattern can be found on Jamaica and other non-Danish Carribean islands, rather pointing to an origin among the black population (Dillard 1976). Recently, Jakobsen (2017) has presented a short overview of the formation of the various types of place names in the colonial Danish West Indies, and the post-colonial discourse on Danish versus colloquial street names in Charlotte Amalie on St Thomas. Thus, Danish colonial toponomastics is a topic which has still only been studied to a very limited degree. Even within the recent scholarly focus on “colonial nostalgia” in post-colonial tourism and cultural heritage, the element of extant Danish colonial place names is surprisingly ignored (e.g. Jørgensen 2013; Rud 2017, ch. 7 “Toward a postcolonial Greenland: Culture, identity, and colonial legacy”). While the material from all of Denmark-Norway’s tropical colonies still awaits any thorough form of systematic toponomastic studying, the few existing specific analyses of the Greenland material could undoubtedly benefit from a more comprehensive survey in terms of both time and space, as well as to a comparative analysis with the remaining Danish-Norwegian colonial empire (and beyond).

5 Project on Danish colonial place-naming policy and practice In 2018, the Danish Research Council received two applications for research projects on Danish colonial linguistics and toponomastics. The one project was submitted by Karoline Kühl and Iben Holmegaard Aastrup entitled How Danish were the Danish West Indies? Language use in written sources in a multilingual colonial society, and is described elsewhere in the present volume. Within this was embedded a toponomastic subproject (planned to be performed by Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen), which aimed to look at place names and place naming as evidence of a deliberate language policy within the Danish colonial

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administration in the Danish West Indies, especially around the time in 1755 when the islands went from being administered by a privately owned colonial trade company to being a colony governed directly by the Danish Crown (for further on this, see the article by Kühl and Holmegaard Aastrup in the present volume). The second project proposal, which will be further described in the following, has been submitted by Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen to the Danish Research Council in the autumn of 2019 and is currently awaiting evaluation. The project is entitled Danish Colonial Toponymy and is aimed at studying Danish colonial place-naming policy and practice in the Danish West Indies (U.S. Virgin Islands) and Greenland before, during and after the Danish colonial administration. This will include such overall research questions as: – To what extent was the Danish administration met by an existing toponymy, when the colonies were acquired? – To what extent was the existing toponymy maintained, altered or fully replaced by the Danish administration, as well as by the colonists (e.g. planters, settlers, slaves, merchants, etc.)? – What kind of places were named (for the first time) in the colonies by the Danish administration and by the colonists? – How were they named, both in terms of language and type of name elements? – To what extent did the Danish administration and other involved parties make use of differing linguistic place name forms (parallel forms) in different contexts? Are there, for instance, any systematic differences in choice of parallel name forms used by the same people depending on the context in which the names were used? – To what extent has the toponymy from the time of the Danish administration been maintained, altered or fully replaced after the colonies left Danish supremacy?

5.1 Why the Danish West Indies and Greenland? The project will almost exclusively focus on the Danish West Indies and Greenland, where Danish place names are abundant, while the more limited toponomastic material from India and Danish Guinea only will be included as references for comparisons in individual cases. The Danish colonial toponymy in the two chosen regions will both be studied separately for each region on its own terms, with a set of specific sub-questions to the overall research questions as considered relevant to the colony in question. But equally important, they

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will be studied collectively in a comparative perspective in a common Danish colonial context. The decision to make a joint study of colonial place-naming in the Danish West Indies and Greenland may at first appear peculiar and perhaps even forced, since there obviously are numerous differences between a slavebased plantation colony in the Caribbean and a colony based on maritime fishing and hunting by a native population in the Arctics. Still, from a colonial place-naming perspective, the two Danish colonies show an astonishing amount of common features. They both account for an initial, pre-Danish toponymy in form of topographical names on coastal features in predominantly Dutch and English, mainly from the seventeenth century. The two colonies were included in the Danish realm at about the same time (St Thomas 1672, St John 1718, St Croix 1733, Greenland 1721) and have remained under Danish administration until the twentieth century (Danish West Indies 1917, Greenland 1979). Both colonies have been subject to an actual immigration of settlers, combined with a continued contact to several foreign languages through maritime trade, which has led to a continuous multi-lingual situation throughout the colonial period. In spite of the Danish Lutheran Church being the official church in both places, the German-speaking Moravian Church (Herrnhuter) became very influential in both colonies from the 1730s onwards. And, finally, when the Danish era ended in the twentieth century, the administrative language in both the former colonies was changed as well, causing a postcolonial discourse on whether to maintain the old colonial place names, with their entire related contextual meaning, or to replace them with new ones.

5.2 Specifics for the two subprojects The toponymy for each of the two included Danish colonies will form the basis for a subproject within the overall project. Danish Colonial Toponymy in the Danish West Indies is planned to be carried out by Martin Sejer Danielsen as a postdoctoral project. His part of the project will for the first time conduct a full registration of place names in the Danish West Indies from the time of the Danish administration. Place names from all three islands will be listed by their exact spelling forms from a selected set of sources (representing maps, official documents, church registers, newspapers and non-administrative letters) from before the Danish reign to the sale in 1917, and beyond. Based on this, analyses will be performed to seek answers to the general research questions for both colonies as listed above, along with questions of particular interest to the Danish West Indies, such as:

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To what extent do Danish place names appear to represent local conditions or reflect a toponymy imported from Denmark-Norway (e.g. the street name Wimmelskaftet)? Is it possible to identify a change in official (and unofficial) place-naming after the change to a Crown colony in 1755? Did the royal Danish administration change certain place names from non-Danish to Danish forms – and, if so, was such a policy followed or disregarded outside the administration? How have the U.S. authorities administered the colonial toponymy inherited from the Danes, and how are old Danish place names perceived by the inhabitants today (cf. Myers 2009)?

The second subproject, Danish Colonial Toponymy in Greenland is planned to be carried out by Ivalu Kristine Lidsmoes as a PhD-project. Since a full database of present-day Greenland toponymy is already available, the registrative task of the present project will focus on adding historical forms to the existing database from a selected set of sources similar to that of the Danish West Indies-subproject, along with a hitherto unexploited archive of historical Greenland place names (see below), which has recently been digitized. Based on this, analyses will be performed to seek answers to the general research questions for both colonies, along with some particular questions concerning Greenland, such as: – To what extent did the Danish administration incorporate, alter or replace the existing toponymy, and did this differ in regard to whether the initial name was English, Dutch or Inuit? – To what extent did the Danish administration make use of Greenlandic (and hybrid Greenlandic-Danish) place names, and did this differ among different types of officials? – To what extent did the Greenlandic Inuits maintain an internal use of Greenlandic place names in the colonial period, and can this be seen to have changed in post-colonial times? – To what extent have Danish authorities and media been willing to incorporate the use of Greenlandic place names, as officially prescribed, in recent years?

5.3 Methods, sources and theories The registration of colonial place names in the Danish West Indies and Greenland, as described above, are based on methods and principles used in the ongoing edition of Danmarks Stednavne [Place names of Denmark]. This means

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that the collected material will be comparable and compatible with the toponymic material in the existing Danish place name database, as well as comparable between the two colonies. The subproject on the Danish West Indies will predominantly be based on cartographical and written sources, which have recently been digitized and made available online by the Danish National Archives (www.virgin-islands-history.org) and the Royal Danish Library (www.kb. dk/da/nb/tema/dvi/index.html). Sources from the post-colonial period are available at The Von Scholten Collection on St Thomas, along with a list of names from 1925 (McGuire 1925). The subproject on Greenland will partly be based on sources collected by the Greenland Place-Name Committee, partly on a newly digitized Greenlandic Place-Name Archive at the University of Copenhagen, which originates from the period 1734–1850. Also, a collection at the Arnamagnæan Collection of old maps and geographical descriptions of Greenland will for the first time be harvested for place names. An essential part of the project will be to connect these historical place name forms digitally with their geographical locations in a G.I.S. (Geographical Information System). This will mainly be based on existing geo-digitizations of the place names in question, such as asiaq.maps.arcgis.com (for Greenland) and geonames.org (for the Danish West Indies/U.S. Virgin Islands), combined with a supplementary new digitization of predominantly historical place names, which have not been digitally geo-located yet. It is an explicit aim to base the technical side of the project purely on Open Source-systems and data, such as QGIS and digital ground maps available at maps.google.com, maps.stamen.com and kortforsyningen.dk. In terms of theories, the project will engage with various cross-sections between toponomastic studies and (post-)colonial studies. This will include basic toponomastic theory on how people name places (Zilliacus 2002), and especially how this is carried out in a multilingual setting (e.g. Puzey and Kostanski 2016), including the aspect of homonymous place names with different meanings in different languages (Dalberg 1985). Also, the project will relate to colonial-linguistic theory concerning how a colonial power may actively use place names in differing linguistic forms to promote different political, economic and social interests, and if such a deliberate policy can be identified for the Danish colonial administration. To do this, the toponomastic observations made from the Danish colonies, including the structure of the names, will be analyzed comparatively with the existing findings and methodologies provided by the school of Comparative Colonial Toponomastics (CoCoTop, e.g. Stolz and Warnke 2018, 2019; Schulz and Aleff 2018). Finally, the post-colonial issue of how the old Danish place names have been perceived and administered by post-colonial authorities and the public in general, as discussed by the school of Critical Top-

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onymies (e.g. Berg and Vuolteenaho 2009; Koopman 2012; Górny and Górna 2019), is of central importance to the project. Basically, none of these colonialrelated theories have been taken up by Danish toponymists before.

5.4 Case study: Greenlandic place names as sign of “anti-conquest”? The following case study will serve as an example of the sources, methods and theories to be assigned in the project. A hitherto little known collection of Greenlandic place names is located at the Department of Nordic Studies and Linguistics at the University of Copenhagen. The collection was established in 1934 and represents the toponymy used by the Danish colonial administration in Greenland in the period 1734–1850. The oldest layer of place names in the collection is mainly of Dutch and Danish origin, but just as Greenlandic place names show up early in cartographical sources, names of Greenlandic origin also occur early in the abovementioned collection; the first ones to appear are Amaralik and Nepiset-Sundet dated to 1735. The latter is of the earlier mentioned hybrid type, consisting of a Greenlandic modifier (Nepiset) coined with a Danish classifier (Sundet), which became quite a common feature in the colonial administration’s use of Greenlandic place names (Petersen 1985: 229). The place name records in the collection show a general increase in the usage of the place names of Greenlandic origin, a tendency which could be a result of many things. Firstly, it should be noted that not all recorded names from the period are included in this collection, nor is it possible to get a clear picture of how frequently specific names would have been used. To get a more comprehensive picture of the early colonial toponymy, an expansion of the database would be useful. That being said, it is notable that the amount of Greenlandic place names is so well represented along the Danish and Dutch names in the collection. This may be due to the fact that almost all the administrations’ and missionaries’ correspondence with the Greenlandic native population was in Greenlandic. Hans Egede was a Lutheran missionary, whose philosophy was that God’s word had to be preached in the native tongue of those to whom it was preached. The language used by the missionaries among the Greenlanders was therefore Greenlandic, and this never changed during the colonial period. Being a polysynthetic language, and from a completely different language family, Greenlandic (or Kalaallisut, which is the West-Greenlandic variety) is quite different from any European language. This was not always without its challenges, and throughout the colonial period many missionaries never fully mastered the language. The Danish historian Jens Christian Manniche has noted the problems with this language barrier and the challenges it might have brought to the Danish

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colonial administration, because “how can you rule, when so few can communicate between ruler and the ruled?” (Manniche 2002: 1; English translation by Ivalu Kristine Lidsmoes). Colonial officials were, however, keen to learn the Greenlandic language, and Manniche concludes that the Lutheran missionaries and their philosophy were so dominant from the beginning of colonization that even though some officials in the colonial administration expressed a desire to teach the Greenlanders Danish, this did not actually happen on any large scale until 1925, when Danish became a standard subject in the Greenland school system (Manniche 2002: 50 and 55). Heavily inspired by the American anthropologist Bernard S. Cohn, Manniche goes on to point out that knowing the language of the subjects was part of the colonial officials’ strategy for efficient rule (Manniche 2002: 49). Due to the great differences between the languages, and the Danish colonial officials’ difficulties in mastering the Greenlandic language, several dictionaries and phrase books were published during the period. Although it obviously remained quite difficult for the officials to learn Greenlandic, it seems to have been something prioritized highly by the colonial administration. It is therefore also possible that place names – and particularly those of Greenlandic origin found in the sources – could have played some role in the administration’s attempt to learn the language, in order to rule the local population more efficiently. In order to investigate this properly, it is necessary to survey what kind of indigenous places-names that were kept or not, as well as when and under which circumstances the Danish administration chose to do so. The geographer Douglas Herman (2009) has researched the use of place names in Hawaii and uses the term anti-conquest, a term originally coined by Pratt (1992), to describe how the use of place names of Hawaiian origin are an exercise in power by a non-Hawaiian ruler. In Herman’s words, anti-conquest entails “glorifying the Other at the same time that the Other is denied real power” (Herman 2009: 103). Arguably, anti-conquest can be applied to several aspects of Danish colonial rule in Greenland. Some scholars have argued how the Danish colonial policy, particularly in the nineteenth century, was to maintain “the authentic” Greenlander in their original state (Rud 2010; Seiding 2012). This both served to protect the vulnerable Greenlanders, as the administration saw them, but also to support trade interests by securing the traditional methods of hunting and fishing, which was a fundamental part of the colonial economy. Similarly, it can be argued that the attitude towards the Greenlandic language, as Manniche describes it, represents a type of anti-conquest. Certainly, the use of Greenlandic place names in the Danish colonial administration appears to bear the sign of such “anti-conquest” motivation.

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5.5 Novelty, topicality and dissemination As stated above, the project will make use of several sets of extensive data sources from both the Danish West Indies and Greenland, which have only become digitally available since 2017, and therefore never have been used for this kind of studies before. The project will complement the new scholarly attention to Danish colonial history in general by bringing focus to a hitherto unexplored issue within this school, namely the importance of toponomastic aspects in the Danish colonial administration – including its subsequent post-colonial discourse up until present day. By doing this, the project will hopefully help bringing Danish colonial history on par with the recent international attention to this topic, as represented by the schools of Koloniallinguistik (Stolz et al. 2011; Dewein et al. 2012), Critical Toponymy (e.g. Berg and Vuolteenaho 2009) and Comparative Colonial Toponomastics (e.g. Stolz and Warnke 2018, 2019). Furthermore, the project coincides with an increased focus on Denmark’s colonial past derived from the two jubilees for both the Danish West Indies (2017) and Greenland (2021), which not only has led – and can be expected to lead – to further attention to the topic in Danish media and school systems, but also has brought more focus in the U.S. Virgin Islands and Greenland to their Danish past. Especially for Greenland, the colonial past is a tense political issue, which recurrently sparks heated debates in both Greenland and Denmark about various issues, including whether Greenlandic place names should be used by Danish authorities in cases where former Danish alternatives exist (Thykier 2017). Indeed, some Danish politicians and political debaters have recently even questioned if Greenland can at all be seen as a former Danish colony (Jørgensen and Stampe 2019; Holm 2019). Thus, a comparative analysis of place-naming practices and policies between Greenland and the Danish West Indies, as well as comparisons to European-administered colonies elsewhere (e.g. Stolz and Warnke 2019), could be an important means to provide more actual evidence and knowledge to the on-going debate in Denmark. The project will produce several deliverables. The lists of Danish colonial place names in the Danish West Indies and Greenland, with their historical forms and etymological explanations, will be made available online as a database with a digital map showing the location of the names. The results of the subprojects will be presented at relevant international conferences and published in related proceedings or journals, just as the collective outcome of the entire project will be published as a book. Finally, abstracts of the three subprojects will be presented online in connection to the database in a form aimed at an educational use for teaching at middle school and high school level.

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6 Conclusion The kingdom of Denmark-Norway became a European colonial power from the early seventeenth century and remained so for about three hundred years – in some respects until 1979, when Greenland was granted home rule. The idea of having ever been a colonial power apparently fits very unwell with present-day Danish historical self-perception in general, which rather takes to the feeling of national inferiority, possibly to be explained by the secession of Norway in 1814, Schleswig-Holstein in 1864, and the German occupation of Denmark in 1940– 45. Still, even if the Danish colonial empire was far from being in the same league as those of Great Britain, the Netherlands, France, Spain, or Portugal, Denmark-Norway still managed to acquire and keep colonial holdings in Asia, Africa, and the Americas at the same time for about two hundred years. And unlike any other European empire, Denmark-Norway held the position as colonial superpower in the North Atlantic, where the provinces of Iceland and the Faroe Islands were supplemented with the re-colonization of Greenland in 1721. Although historians and the general public in present-day Denmark obviously have to acknowledge the nation’s colonial past, it is still common to see it downplayed as rather insignificant and – in terms of the treatment of African slaves and indigenous Greenlanders – almost romantic in the sense that the treatment was much worse in other colonial empires. Even today, leading politicians argue that Greenland was never an actual colony, and no official excuses have ever been stated by any Danish government to its former colonial subjects in general. This apparent hesitance in the public opinion and in academic scholarship alike to perceive Denmark-Norway as an actual colonial power during the “colonial age” may be a part of the explanation why relatively few studies have engaged with Danish colonial history, at least until recently. This is even more the case in terms of specific topics within colonial history, such as colonial linguistics and colonial toponomastics. Until now, the few existing studies have mainly focused on the choice of language in the administration of Greenland and among the slaves in the Danish West Indies, personal names among the black population in the West Indies, and foreign impact on early toponymy in Greenland. No deeper or more extensive study of the toponymy in any of the Danish colonies have yet been made, which also means that toponomastic comparisons within the Danish colonial empire or to the outside world are still waiting to be realized. The authors of the present article hope to change this in the near future, partly by joining in on the existing international networks in the field of Colonial

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Toponomastics and Critical Toponymy, partly by increasing such studies in our work at the Name Research Section at the University of Copenhagen. With our current application to the Danish Research Council for funding of a project called Danish Colonial Toponymy, we aim to study Danish colonial placenaming policy and practice in the Danish West Indies and Greenland before, during and after the Danish colonial administration. This will include the questions of how the Danish administration chose to deal with an existing toponymy, the formation of new place names, the existence of parallel names, and the Danish colonial toponymy’s afterlife in a post-colonial context. In doing this, we hope to add to the growing interest in Denmark for our colonial past and historical responsibility, by pointing out the neglected role and importance of place names in Danish colonial relations, as well as help assisting in introducing Denmark-Norway to the international scholarly field of Colonial Toponomastics – undoubtedly to the mutual benefit of both parties.

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Manniche, Jens Christian. 2003. Sprogbeherskelse og herskersprog: om sprog og kolonialisme i 1800-tallet [Command of language and language of command. On language and colonialism in the nineteenth century]. Historie 2003(2). 241–298. McGuire, James William. 1925. Geographic dictionary of the Virgin Islands of the United States. Washington: Government Printing Office. Meilandt, Mette. 2002. Sprog til debat – En antropologisk analyse af den grønlandske sprogsituation med det formål at vise, hvilke roller det grønlandske og det danske sprog spiller i Grønland [Language at debate – An anthropological analysis of the language situation in Greenland with the purpose of identifying the roles played by the Greenlandic and the Danish language in Greenland], MA-thesis. Aarhus University. Myers, Garth Andrew. 2009. Naming and placing the other: Power and the urban landscape in Zanzibar. In Lawrence D. Berg & Jani Vuolteenaho (eds.), Critical toponymies. The contested politics of place naming, 85–100. Farnham: Ashgate. Nielsen, Per (ed.). 2001. Fra slaveri til frihed – Det dansk-vestindiske slavesamfund 1672–1848 [From slavery to freedom – The Danish West Indian slave society 1672–1848]. Copenhagen: National Museum of Denmark. Norske Gaardnavne, 1897–1924. 18 vols, ed. Oluf Rygh. Oslo: Riksarkivet. Ó Corráin, Donnchadh. 2001. The Vikings in Ireland. In Anne-Christine Larsen (ed.), The Vikings in Ireland, 17–27. Roskilde: The Viking Ship Museum. Ostermann, Hother. 1935. Dagbøker av nordmenn på Grønland før 1814 [Diaries by Norwegians in Greenland before 1814]. Oslo: Jacob Dybwad. Petersen, Marco L. (ed.). 2018. Sønderjylland-Schleswig Kolonial – Kolonialismens kulturelle arv i regionen mellem Kongeåen og Ejderen [Sønderjylland – Schleswig colonial. The cultural inheritance of colonialism in the region between Kongeåen and Ejderen]. Odense: Syddansk Universitetsforlag. Petersen, Robert. 1985. Danske stednavne i Grønland. [Danish place names in Greenland]. In Bent Jørgensen (ed.), Stednavne i brug. Festskrift udgivet i anledning af Stednavneudvalgets 75 års jubilæum, 228–238. Copenhagen: C.A. Reitzels Forlag. Pratt, Mary Louise. 1992. Imperial eyes, travel writing and transculturation. London & New York: Routledge. Puzey, Guy & Laura Kostanski (eds.). 2016. Names and naming. People, places, perceptions and power. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Rasmussen, Lars Løkke. 2017. Statsministerens svar af spørgsmål nr. 43 ... stillet efter ønske af Søren Espersen (DF) [Answer of the Prime Minister to question no. 43 ... proposed on request from Søren Espersen (Danish People's Party)]. Statsministeriet 2 May 2017. https://www.ft.dk/samling/20161/almdel/gru/spm/43/svar/1402982/1750877/index.htm. Redknap, Mark. 2000. Vikings in Wales. Cardiff: National Museum Wales Books. Ridel, Élisabeth. 2007. From Scotland to Normandy – The Celtic sea route of the Vikings. In Beverley Ballin Smith, Simon Taylor & Gareth Williams (eds.), West over the sea – Studies in Scandinavian sea-borne expansion and settlement before 1300, 81–94. Leiden: Brill. Rud, Søren. 2010. Subjektiveringsprocesser i metropol og koloni: København og Grønland i 1800-tallet [The processes of subjectification in metropol and colony: Copenhagen and Greenland in the nineteenth century], PhD-dissertation. University of Copenhagen. Rud, Søren. 2017. Colonialism in Greenland – Tradition, governance and legacy. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Sabino, Robin. 2012. Language contact in the Danish West Indies – Giving Jack his jacket. Leiden: Brill.

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Sandnes, Jørn & Ola Stemshaug. 1997. Norsk stadnamnleksikon [Norwegian place name dictionary]. Oslo: Det Norske Samlaget. Schulz, Matthias & Maria Aleff. 2018. Mikrotoponome in der Kolonialtoponomastik: DeutschSamoa und Deutsch-Neuguinea. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 125–159. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Schulze-Thulin, Britta. 1996. Old Norse in Ireland. In P. Sture Ureland & Iain Clarkson (eds.), Language contact across the North Atlantic, 83–113. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Schuster, Susanne. 2018. Europäische Ortsnamen als Zeugen kolonialer Raumaneigung: Grönlands Nordosten. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 161–187. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Schuster, Susanne. 2019. The making of Greenland – Early European place names in Kalaallit Nunaat. In Brigitte Weber (ed.), The linguistic heritage of colonial practice, 43–73. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Sebro, Louise. 2010. Mellem afrikaner og kreol: Etnisk identitet og social navigation i Dansk Vestindien 1730–1770 [Between African and Creole: Ethnic identity and social navigation in the Danish West Indies, 1730–1770]. Lund: Lund University. Seiding, Inge Høst. 2012. “Married to the daughters of the country”. Inter-marriage and intimacy in Northwest Greenland ca. 1750 to 1850, PhD-dissertation. University of Greenland. Simonsen, Gunvor. 2017. Slave stories – Law, representation, and gender in the Danish West Indies. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press. Stenton, Frank M. 1947. Anglo-Saxon England. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stolz, Thomas, Christina Vossmann & Barbara Dewein. 2011. Kolonialzeitliche Sprachforschung und das Forschungsprogramm Koloniallinguistik – Eine kurze Einführing. In Thomas Stolz, Christina Vossmann & Barbara Dewein (eds.), Kolonialzeitliche Sprachforschung. Die Beschreibung afrikanischer und ozeanischer Sprachen zur Zeit der deutschen Kolonialherrschaft, 7–30. Berlin: Akademie Verlag. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2018. System- und diskurslinguistische Einblicke in die vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik – Eine gemeinsame Einführung. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 1–75. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2019. Saints, nobility, and other heroes – Colonial placenaming as part of the European linguistic heritage. In Brigitte Weber (ed.), The linguistic heritage of colonial practice, 13–42. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Sveistrup, Poul Peter. 1942. Bidrag til de tidligere dansk-vestindiske Øers økonomiske Historie med særligt Henblik paa Sukkerproduktion og Sukkerhandel [Contributions to the economic history of the former Danish West Indies in special regard to the production and trade of sugar]. Copenhagen: Institut for Historie og Samfundsøkonomi. Sveistrup, Poul Peter & Sune Dalgaard. 1945. Det danske Styre af Grønland 1825–1850 [The Danish government of Greenland 1825–1850]. Copenhagen: C.A. Reitzels Forlag. Thykier, Michael. 2017. Søren Espersen efterlyser danske stednavne i Grønland’ [Søren Espersen requests Danish place names in Greenland]. Jyllands-Posten 30 April 2017. https://jyllands-posten.dk/politik/ECE9541213/soeren-espersen-efterlyser-danskestednavne-i-groenland/.

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Tyson, George F. 1992. On the periphery of the peripheries – The cotton plantations of St. Croix, Danish West Indies. Journal of Caribbean History 26. 1–36. Val Julián, Carmen. 2011. La realidad y el deseo – Toponymie du découvreur en Amérique espagnole (1492–1520). In Julien Roger, Marie-Linda Ortega & Marina Mestre Zaragosà (eds.), La realidad y el deseo – Toponymie du découvreur en Amérique, suivi de textes en hommage à l’auteur, 30–148. Lyon: ENS. Vore gamle tropekolonier. 1952–1953. [Our old tropical colonies] 8 vols (by different authors), ed. Johannes Brøndsted (Copenhagen: Westermanns Forlag,; 2nd edn. Copenhagen: Fremad, 1966–1968). Wagner, Åse Kari Hansen. 1998. Språkkontakt i gammelt koloniområde. En studie av normannerbosetningens stedsnavn, med særlig vekt på navnegruppa –tuit [Language contact in an old colonial area. A study of place names in the Norman settlements, with special emphasis on the name type -tuit]. Bergen: Universitetet i Bergen. Westergaard, Waldemar. 1917. The Danish West Indies under company rule, 1671–1754. New York: Macmillan. Woolf, Alex (ed.). 2009. Scandinavian Scotland – Twenty years after. St Andrews: St Andrews University Press. Zilliacus, Kurt. 2002. Forska i namn [Research in names]. Helsinki: Svenska litteratursällskapet i Finland.

Karoline Kühl and Iben Holmegaard Aastrup

How Danish were the Danish West Indies? Language use in written sources in a multilingual colonial society Abstract: This paper represents an extended version of an application sent to the Danish Independent Research Fund in 2018 for a research project about the language ecology in the Danish West Indies, a Danish colony from 1672 until 1917. Based on the analysis of DWI newspapers, handwritten documents and place-naming practices, the aim of the research project was to investigate which role the colonial language Danish played in the multilingual reality of the DWI whether the Danish language in the DWI became different than contemporary Danish in Denmark, and, more generally, to investigate functions of bilingualism, language attitudes and language policy in colonial communities. Keywords: Danish West Indies, Danish language, multilingualism, colonial linguistics

1 Introduction This paper represents an extended version of an application sent to the Danish Independent Research Fund in 2018. The application identified a number of hitherto unanswered research questions related to the language ecology in the Danish West Indies, a Danish colony from 1672 until 1917, and suggested ways to answer them. Hence, this paper should be read as an agenda of desiderata rather than a report providing answers.1 The overall aim of the research project outlined here is to investigate which role the colonial language Danish played in the multilingual reality of the Danish West Indies (DWI) and, more generally, to investigate language use and

|| 1 Many thanks to the editor of this volume for inviting us to submit this project description. || Karoline Kühl, independent researcher (formerly University of Copenhagen). E-mail: [email protected] Iben Holmegaard Aastrup, Danish National Archives. E-Mail: [email protected] https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-009

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language choice in a variety of written sources related to the DWI. The focus on written material as primary sources entails a focus on the languages that were used as written media in the DWI, i.e. Danish, English, Dutch, and German. Timewise, the project focuses on the period from 1755 when the Danish Crown took over the DWI as a crown colony to 1917 when the islands were sold to the United States of America. Our knowledge on language use in the DWI is skewed: The Creoles spoken in the islands have been subject to many thorough studies (e.g. Bakker forthcoming, Sabino 2012, Bøegh 2018), mostly based on accounts by the Moravian missionary Oldendorp (1767–1768) and other contemporary descriptions of the Creoles. However, almost no research on language use in non-Creole written sources exists and neither has the use and the function of the language of the colonial power been looked at. This is surprising as a quick look at written DWI material such as newspapers and documents produced by the local government show an alternating use of at least two languages side by side to be the norm rather than the exception. Further, the impression one gets is that the language of the colonial power, Danish, was only one option besides English, Dutch, and French, yielding an impression of an inherently multilingual society. However, to the authors’ best knowledge, only a single case study address the role of Danish and the general distribution of written languages in the DWI: Liebst (1996) investigates language choice in proclamations issued by the local DWI administration between ca. 1730 and 1823, stating a growing tendency to use Danish (instead of Dutch) after 1746. This tendency, however, changed towards the use of English or both English and Danish in the proclamations published in the Royal Danish American Gazette (from 1770) and the Dansk Vestindisk Regierings Avis [Danish West Indian Government Newspaper] (from 1802). Interestingly, Liebst states that despite these overall tendencies, language choice in the proclamations to a high degree depended on the intended recipients. Proclamations that were of importance to a specific group showed an according choice of language, e.g. proclamations addressing the so-called free negroes who mainly spoke Dutch Creole were written in Dutch. This linguistic practice seems to imply recognition and acceptance of the multilingual society by the local DWI administration. This point is supported by Liebst’s observation of the immediate translation of the Danish code book (Christian V’s Danske Lov) to English in 1756, i.e. immediately after the Danish crown took over the islands. These observations by Liebst have been central in the development of an agenda of desiderata with regard to language use and language choice in the DWI in relation to socio-political parameters as well as the social and ideological dimension of language choice. However, Liebst’s study relies on a mere fraction of

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sources that are available today (see Section 2). Hence, we propose an empirically broader approach in order to be able to grasp the functional division of written languages in the DWI and, if possible, the political, economic and cultural value that is ascribed to Danish vis-à-vis other written languages (see Section 7 for a caveat with regard to what these sources will not reveal). Still, due to the almost non-existent previous research on the European languages in the Danish West Indies, our research agenda sets out with a rather descriptive goal, generating hypotheses rather than testing already existing ones. The sociohistorical accounts of the Danish West Indies are numerous and exhaustive, see e.g. the comprehensive accounts by Olsen (2017), Sabino (2012) and Hall (1985); see also the chapter by Jakobsen and Lidsmoes in the present volume. Here, we only provide a short overview: The islands St. Thomas, St. John and St. Croix became property of the Danish king between 1672 and 1733. In 1672, the Vestindisk Kompagni [West India Company], a Danish trading company, established a trade colony on St. Thomas (the company’s name was later changed to Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagni [West India and Guinea Company] in 1674 when it took over the Danish establishments on the Gold Coast of Africa). The company was charged with building forts, establishing a militia and a court, and maintaining shipping on behalf of the Danish king. In 1718, the Danes occupied the neighboring island St. John located east of St. Thomas in order to extend the cultivation of cotton, tobacco and the sought-after sugarcane. In 1733, a third, almost uninhabited island, St. Croix, was acquired from France, becoming a veritable goldmine for the Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagni as the land turned out to be imminently suitable for the cultivation of sugar cane. The cultivation of the islands and the profitable Danish colonial trade in general were based on the ruthless exploitation of enslaved Africans brought to the islands from West Africa or locally-born Afro-Caribbeans. Denmark passed a law in 1792 banning the slave trade that took effect from 1803 onwards, giving the planters the opportunity to generate a large enough slave population that they could reproduce and eliminate the need for the Atlantic trade overall. However, an illegal trade continued after 1803, in which Danish seamen participated, and planters could still legally trade enslaved persons internally between plantations. This continued until Governor General von Scholten abolished slavery overall in 1848, a consequence of the effects of a slave revolt. The enslaved population of the DWI always outnumbered the European population or locally-born Euro-Caribbeans: When the Danish crown took over the colony in 1755, there were approx. 1700 Europeans and locally born EuroCaribbeans on the islands compared to approx. 14,400 enslaved laborers. This meant a ratio of 1: 8.5 which would still grow until it reached a peak of 1:10 in

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1803, with 3,500 free persons of European ancestry compared to just under 36,000 enslaved persons. The European part of the population was diverse, multinational and multilingual, with Danish planters and officials being only one part among many. In 1755, the Danish crown took over the administration of the DWI from the Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagni, and hereby the DWI became a Danish crown colony. The islands were now administered very much like a Danish county, ruled by a Governor-General and a local government that had its seat on St. Croix. The local administration consisted of a city bailiff (byfoged) in each of the three major cities on St. Thomas and St. Croix (Charlotte Amalie, Christiansted and Frederiksted) as well as a rural bailiff (landfoged) on St. John. At this point Danish became the official language of administration on the islands as well as the language that was used by the administration bodies in Copenhagen to govern the colony. Nevertheless, everyday life in the DWI was by no means solely Danish; rather, it was inherently multilingual with different European and West African languages as well as the local Creoles being spoken and partly also written (see Sabino 2012 and Bakker 2003 as well as references herein). The proposed research project aims at an analysis of a variety of Danish West Indian documents by relating language use to textual parameters (e.g. text type), social parameters (e.g. degree of formality, writer, and addressee), sociopolitical events (e.g. the taking over of the administration by the Danish crown or the occupation of the islands by Great Britain in the early years of the 19th century) and ideology (viz. patriotism and nationalism). This mapping of language use and linguistic domains will lead to knowledge about the political, economic, and cultural value of the colonial language Danish as well as the other written languages taking part in the Danish West Indian language ecology which hitherto is uncharted territory. Also, the investigation of the functional division of language use in this particular multilingual situation will add to a deeper understanding of language in colonial settings in general.

2 Of documents and sources On the occasion of the centennial of the sale of the DWI to the USA in 2017 the Danish National Archives and the Royal Danish Library completed their joint efforts in digitizing historical material from the DWI: The Royal Danish Library digitized more than 200,000 pages from the library’s collection of DWI material, including books, leaflets of all kinds, handwritten documents, personal archives, pictures, postcards, maps, paintings, etc. (see www.kb.dk/da/nb/tema/

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dvi/index.html) and also all issues of the DWI newspapers (accessible at www.mediestream.dk). The Danish National Archives has digitized approx. 5 million pages produced by the local and central administration of the DWI (for an inventory of this archival material see Gøbel 2002) which are accessible through the search interface at www.virgin-islands-history.com. Hence, the digitization efforts have provided access to vast quantities of historic material from, or related to, the DWI. A project like the present that relies on primary sources in a comparatively large-scale research design would not have been possible prior to these efforts. The vast quantity and the huge differences with regard to text types in the DWI material imply that a careful selection of the documents meant to act as sources is mandatory. The selection should rely on the objectives presented by Engelberg and Stolberg (2016): (1) documents used as linguistic sources where the language itself is the object of interest, (2) documents used as metalinguistic sources assessed with regard to, e.g., language usage patterns, attitudes towards Danish and other languages, and (3) documents used as sources for the societal conditions of (multilingual) language use, i.e. sources that are analyzed with regard to, e.g., the languages used in school or church and language as an object of political decisions within the colonial context. Naturally, the same document can be a source to more than one of these aspects. The selection of types of documents as sources will of course also relate to the specific research questions posed by three subprojects that were developed to capture the role of Danish in the multilingual reality of the Danish West Indies by investigating documents according to parameters such as chronology, sociopolitical developments, social factors such as class and gender as well as textual parameters such as level of formality, text types (e.g. auction announcements, advertisements, news, official proclamations etc.), etc. (see Section 4).

3 Theoretical background Theoretically, the present project relates to the concepts and methods of Colonial Language Studies, Historical Sociolinguistics and Contact Linguistics as well as research on varieties of Danish outside Denmark. In particular the members of the German Forschungsgruppe Koloniallinguistik have since 2012 developed a theoretical outline and best practices with regard to the identification, description, and analysis of all kinds of linguistic phenomena in colonial contexts, developing the field (Post)Colonial Language Studies (see Stolz et al. 2011, Engelberg and Stolberg 2012a, Kellermeier-Rehbein

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et al. 2015, Schmidt-Brücken et al. 2015, Schmidt-Brücken et al. 2016, Kellermeier-Rehbein et al. 2018). The rationale of this research field lies in the fact that colonialism differs (at least in degree) from other forms of geopolitical repression due to its ideological motivation and justification (Warnke et al. 2016: 4–5). The present project will address a number of topics that have been identified as central by Dewein et al. (2012) as well as Engelberg and Stolberg (2012b): the functions of bilingualism in colonial communities, onomastic practices, colonial and colonialistic (i.e. ideologically motivated) language policy, language attitudes, and description of the local language varieties. Naturally, a study of language in the DWI is a study of historical language use through time, embedded in the complex Danish West Indian society. Hence, the present project is connected tightly to the research agenda of Historical Sociolinguistics as put forth by Auer et al. (2015a), i.e. to take extralinguistic factors into account in the explanation of historical language variation and change. The subprojects described below will detail how this is done. In line with this we propose to apply the concept of “language ecology”, originally brought forth by Einar Haugen in his work on immigrant Norwegian in North America (Haugen and Dil 1972, see also Eliasson 2013 for a discussion of the term and concept in Haugen’ and Dil’s work). The term and concept are defined by Haugen (Haugen and Dil 1972: 325) as follows: Language ecology may be defined as the interaction of any given language and its environment […]. The true environment of a language is the society that uses it as one of its codes. Language exists only in the mind of its users, and it only functions in relating these users to one another and to nature, i.e. their social and natural environment. Part of its ecology is therefore psychological: its interaction with other languages in the minds of biand multilingual speakers. Another part of its ecology is sociological: its interaction with the society in which it functions as a medium of communication. The ecology of a language is determined primarily by the people who learn it, use it and transmit it to others.

Thus, the concept of language ecology captures the inseparable relationship between humans, the languages they use and the kind of multilingual society they create. As such, it seems very suitable to capture the multilingual reality of the DWI. In the description of language change, the project will also rely on contact linguistic work on multilingual language practices (in the past). Language mixing in historical texts may take the same form as today: Roughly, this means either the use of alternating languages within the same communicative episode (often referred to as “code-switching” or “alternation”, Muysken 2000, or “matter replication”, Matras 2009) or more subtle ways of mixing languages, i.e. “pattern replication” where grammatical or semantic features are borrowed without lemmas

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or words forms (Matras 2009: 234–274). As pointed out by Pahta et al. (2018: 5), multilingual practices (of the past) may reveal individual identity as well as established societal practice, they reflect linguistic competence and repertoires, and they form a response to the expectations of the wider community. In other words, there is always an audience implication bound up in multilingual practices. For example, it is important to establish if code-switching is an established and as such unmarked speech act in a specific community or if it is a sociolinguistically controversial practice? Related to this is the question if the switching between languages is conceptualized rhetorically, i.e. as a recognized linguistic practice, or merely linguistically (cf. Machan 2011). As speech is often considered to be primary in sociolinguistic research a project like the present that investigates written documents needs to consider the interrelation between written and oral language: It has been pointed out early by Koch and Oesterreicher (1986, 2012, 2007) that written and spoken languages are categorically different with regard to the medium, but not with regard to the mode of communication (roughly, formal vs. informal). Certain text types are close(r) to speech, (more) unaffected by conventions and subject to less copyediting, e.g. ego-documents such as diaries and personal letters conveying a first-person perspective of the writer. The present project takes the conceptual differences of written documents into account in that it includes a variety of text types, some representing “language of distance”, some “language of immediacy” (Koch and Oesterreicher 2012). Of course, written documents may render actual speech, but these renderings need to be differentiated with regard to the ways that orality is reproduced: Schneider (2013: 60–61) proposes a differentiation between “recorded”, “recalled”, “imagined”, “observed” and “invented” speech. When investigating Danish in the Caribbean context, an appropriate linguistic comparandum is mandatory in order to identify features of linguistic variation and change particular to the Danish West Indian context. Of course, the extensive literature on historical Danish language can be consulted, including the eminent language history by Skautrup (1944–1970) as well as the new Danish language history (Hjort et al. 2016, 2018, 2019, forthcoming a, forthcoming b) that is currently being published. Further, a number of historical dictionaries might be consulted: Ordbog over det danske sprog [Dictionary of Danish language], Danish between 1700–1950; Moths Ordbog [Moth’s dictionary], a dictionary of Danish language around 1700 collected by Matthias Moth (1649– 1719), mothsordbog.dk, site by Det Danske Sprog- og Litteraturselskab [Society of Danish Language and Literature]; Kalkars Ordbog [Kalkar’s dictionary], Otto Kalkar’s dictionary of the older Danish language covering the time period 1300–

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1700 (Kalkar 1976); and Renæssancens sprog i Danmark [The language of the Renaissance in Denmark], a dictionary and text database on Danish and Latin in the time period 1500–1700, renaessancesprog.dk, site by Det Danske Sprog- og Litteraturselskab [Society of Danish Language and Literature]. A linguistic comparandum may also be established by comparing primary sources, e.g. contemporary Danish newspapers (also digitized by the Royal Danish Library) may be compared to DWI newspapers from the same period of time or contemporary toponomastic practices in the DWI may be compared to place-naming policies in other parts of the Danish Kingdom. Also, texts produced by the same DWI writer that differ with regard to content, geographical destination (Denmark or the DWI), recipient and degree of formality may be compared in order to establish idiosyncratic features and more regular patterns. Such texts can be found in the larger family archives held by the Danish National Archives (see Subproject 2 described in Section 4).2

4 Danish language on the Danish West Indies: different approaches The research agenda presented here consists of three subprojects. These projects complement each other by targeting different types of primary sources from the same societal context and the same period of time. This is done by applying related or identical research questions across the projects.

4.1 Subproject 1: language use related to text types in the Danish West Indian newspapers The first subproject was planned to be a corpus-based large-scale study of the language use in the historical Danish West Indian newspapers as related to text types. Why study the language of newspapers? Newspapers reflect contemporary language and culture. If one and the same auction announcement for slaves appears in both English and Danish, knowledge about the (receptive) language competence of the targeted audience may be deducted. If the Danish announcement includes terms such as byslave ‘city slave’, markslave ‘field

|| 2 To our best knowledge, no publications exist on linguistic features or the cultural value of other European written languages in the DWI.

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slave’ and håndværksslave ‘craft slave’, we will know that a semantic field of terms for enslaved persons had been developed in the DWI context. Hence, despite the fact that newspaper texts are edited, they still form part of the everyday authentic language use. Newspapers influence their readers as they convey attitude and content, implying that their function is both pragmatic and semantic (Percy 2012: 191). And, not least, newspapers were also used to convey official language policy such as the announcement by Schuster, the Royal government secretary in St. Croix, in the Dansk Vestindisk Regieringsavis [Danish West Indian Government Newspapers] on February 14, 1804: Bekiendtgörelse. Til Efterretning vorder herved, efter den Kongelige Regierings Befaling, for enhver Vedkommende bekiendtgiordt: At Höisamme for Fremtiden ei imodtager nogen Ansögning eller Forestilling i andet end det Dansk Sprog; dog vil der fremdeeles giöres Undtagelse for dem som ei ere Sproget mægtig, naar disse er saa trængende, at de ikke kunne bære de medgaaende Omkostninger, at faa slige Ansögninger eller Forestillinger affattede i bemeldte Sprog. [Announcement. At the Royal Goverment’s command, it is being announced to whom it may concern: The Royal Government will in future not accept neither petitions nor presentation in other language than Danish. However, an exception will be made for those who do not master this language if they are too poor to afford the translation of petitions and presentations.] (our translation)

Such an announcement shows that language policy was enacted in the Danish West Indies, but it also reflects a quite pragmatic approach to language use in official contexts. Thus, the study of the Danish West Indian newspapers will provide a clearer picture of language ecology, language change and the Danish West Indian society. Table 1 shows a list of the DWI newspapers covering the time period 1770– 1917 that will be included in the research. Clearly, an investigation like this would not have been possible prior to the digitization efforts of the Royal Danish Library. Table 1: List of DWI newspapers.

Name

Time period Remarks

The Royal Danish American Gazette

1770–1801

The St. Croix Gazette

1801–1802

Dansk Vestindisk Regierings Avis [Danish West Indian Government Newspaper]

1802–1807

Same newspaper with changes in the name. Oldest newspaper in the Danish West Indies, for many years in both English and Danish.

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Name

Time period Remarks

The St. Croix Gazette

1808–1813

The Old St. Croix Gazette

1813

The Royal St. Croix Gazette

1813–1815

Dansk Vestindisk Regierings Avis [Danish West Indian Government Newspaper]

1815–1843

Dansk Vestindisk Regierings Extraordinair-Avis [Danish West Indian Government Extraordinary Newspaper]

1815

St. Croix Avis [St. Croix Newspaper]

1844–1917

The Saint Thomas Gazette/Sanct Thomæ Tidende

1812–1916

News are copied from North American papers in English in older issues. Locally relevant advertisements and notification in English, Danish and, sporadically, other languages. Later issues: mostly English in all texttypes

The amount of English in the newspapers seems to grow steadily over the years, but the older issues show the use of at least three languages (Danish, English and, sometimes, Dutch) side by side, e.g. auction announcements in Danish and Dutch, advertisements in English, news in English, juridical information and official proclamations produced by the central administration in Copenhagen and the local government bodies in Danish, occasionally including English loan words. A typical page of auction announcements in the Dansk Vestindisk Regierings Avis, printed on St. Croix, will consist of Danish and English texts of the same content appearing sequentially. This general pattern seems to be quite established in Dansk Vestindisk Regierings Avis, but the order of language is reversible. If we, for example, take a page from the issue of February 21st, 1842, the Danish auction announcements appear in column 1 and 2, with the English version of the auction announcements appearing in column 2 and 3. As an example of this practice, we cite an auction announcement for several enslaved women that appear on the relevant page in both languages:

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Efter Begjering af DeHerrer Drewes & Co. vil blive bortsolgt ved offentlig Auction næstkommende Løverdagen den 26de dennes paa Auctions Contoiret i Huset No 46 B & 47 i Kongensgade heri Byen om Formiddagen Kl. 11 slet -En ung, stræk, sund Negerinde ved Navn Caroline omtrent 19 Aaar gammel, vant til Markarbeide, tilhörende Jomfrue Jane Morell En ung, stærk, sund Negerinde ved Navn Malvine omtrent 29 Aar gammel, en udmærket god Vaskerinde, tilhörende Herr A. A. Andersen En Negerinde ved Navn Maria, omtrent 33 Aar gammel, tilhörende Madame N. Heyliger En Negerinde ved Navn Penney omtrent 55 Aar gammel, en god Kok, Vaskerinde og en exelent Sællerske tilhörende Jomfr. Mary Heyliger Blake En sambo Pige ved Navn Mary Jane, omtrent 25 Aar gammel, en god Huus-Tjener, samt hendes Barn ved Navn Eve omtrent 3 Aaar gammel, tilhörende Mad. Wallich Underretning om ovenstaaende Ufrie kan erholdes paa Auctions Contoiret. Christiansteds Auctions Contoir den 21de Februar 1842 By request of Messrs. Drewes & Co. will be sold at public Auction on Saturday next the 26th instant, at the Vendue Office in the House No. 46 B & 47 in Kingstreet this town in the forenoon at 11 o’clock -A young, strong, healthy Negrogirl named Caroline about 19 years old, accustomed to field work, belonging to Miss Jane Morell A strong and healthy Negrowoman named Malvine about 29 years old, an excellent Washer, belonging to Mr. A. A. Andersen A Negrowoman named Maria, about 33 years old, belonging to Mrs. N. Heyliger A Negrowoman named Penney, about 55 years old, Cook and Washer, also an excellent seller, belonging to Miss Mary Heyliger Blake A sambo girl named Mary Jane, about 25 years old, good House servant, and her child named Eve about 3 years old, belonging to Mrs. Wallich Information concerning these Unfree will be given by calling at the Vendue Office. Christiansteds Vendue Office the 21st Feb 1842

The two versions of the announcement are almost identical with regard to content. One item of particular Danish West Indian lexicon appears: En sambo Pige ved Navn Mary Jane ‘a sambo girl named Mary Jane’. Sambo or zambo denotes a person of mixed African and Amerindian ancestry. In order to include as many newspaper issues as possible into the analysis, it seems advisable to build a corpus that allows for large-scale investigations into the data, ensuring also reusability of the data. The process of corpusbuilding of historical newspapers is challenging in several ways, and it would certainly need the expertise of an experienced corpus linguist or specialist in digital humanities as well as a substantial number of work hours by student assistants to succeed. To mention just some of the necessary steps: The newspaper issues must be gathered and compiled in an infrastructure, the file types (pdf, tiff and csv) need to be harmonized into a format that is suitable for annotation and analysis, the OCR-scans must to be proofread, and last but not least a permanent identification and storage of the corpus must to be agreed on. In this

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case, the process could draw on already existing work on (corpora of) historical newspapers and texts types (see Percy 2012 and references herein) as well as best practices with regard to corpora of colonial texts (see Schulz 2015, 2016 on the Bremische Basiskorpus Deutscher Kolonialismus) and the experience of one of the authors (Karoline Kühl) in corpus-building. Sebba (2012a, b) points out that visual and spatial elements of the written form provide important contextualization cues (sensu Gumperz 1982), i.e. they are an integral part of the message. A text on a newspaper page will always be a text surrounded by other texts, with differing font sizes, colors and/or style. The annotation system to be developed for the historical DWI newspapers should thus be multi-layered, including the textual, visual and spatial aspects of the newspaper pages, i.e. the page layout, the sequence and placements of languages, the text types, the language used for the particular text types, and, not least contact phenomena such as loan words or specific Danish West Indian words. Specifically, the following questions will be applied to the newspaper sources in order to get a clearer picture of the Danish West Indian language ecology as reflected by the Danish West Indian newspapers: I. Which patterns of co-occurrence between text types and language choice can be observed? Can a diachronic development be identified, and if so, does it relate to socio-political events as e.g. the takeover of the administration by the Danish crown in 1755? II. Does language choice itself or metalinguistic evidence point towards deliberate interference either by the central administration in Copenhagen or the local government? III. Which attitudes towards Danish are reflected by the written sources, either through explicit comments or metalinguistic evidence such as language choice? IV. Which differences can be observed in DWI Danish as compared to contemporary Danish in Denmark? This relates primarily to loan words from English and Dutch but also to specific DWI terms (e.g. manqueron for the enslaved who were unfit for work, bus(s)als for those newly arrived from Africa), and to the development of semantic fields specific to the DWI context such as byslave ‘city slave’, markslave ‘field slave’ and håndværksslave ‘craft slave’. The questions address linguistic-textual characteristics (I, IV), socio-political parameters influencing language use (II) as well as the social and ideological dimension of language choice (III).

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4.2 Subproject 2: language use in DWI handwritten sources While the subproject described above focuses on a set of data that is consistent with regard to medium (printed text), channel (newspapers) and geography (the Danish West Indies), the second suggested subproject focuses on a much more diverse set of data, viz. handwritten material from both official and private archives with relation to the DWI for the time period 1755 to 1917. Differently from the first subproject, the focus on handwritten texts means that both documents characterized by a high degree of formality and publicity as well as documents intended for private use (such as, e.g., diaries) and informal address (e.g., personal letters) become sources. The research questions that this approach builds on are still centered on language use in a multicultural and multilingual colonial society, but it adds the question whether national identity was an issue for Danes living in the DWI. At the time when Denmark colonized the DWI, the Enlightenment and the following period of national romanticism meant a time of increased focus on inner values and philosophy, as well as exploration of the natural sciences and the world itself. Many men of the Enlightenment in Denmark dealt with issues of national identity, and the Danish language was one of the fundamentals in this regard. The notion of a proper Danish language was an element in the initial Enlightenment debates on national identity, which during the romanticism of the 19th century evolved into a subject of societal ideals (see Holmegaard Aastrup 2018). With regard to the discussion of center and periphery, it seems relevant to see whether the contemporary debates on the mother tongue and Danish identity reached the DWI and if so, how they were received. With this angle to the project, new considerations arise with regards to the meaning and importance of nationality in a multi-ethnic society. Building on a categorization of handwritten data with regard to writer, addressee, degree of formality, and topic, the project aims to answer the following questions, with some examples added from the letters of Astrid Helweg-Larsen (AHL):3 I. How does the data reflect private and official language use of the inhabitants of the DWI? Can choice of language give us information about the rela-

|| 3 Astrid Helweg-Larsen (neé Heiberg, 1877–1954) lived in Christiansted on St. Croix with her husband Parson Povl Helweg-Larsen from 1910–1919. During her time in the Danish West Indies, she wrote many vivid letters which are stored at the Royal Library. She and her husband were reformist-minded and succeeded in forming a mixed-race local church council in Christiansted.

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II.

III.

IV.

V.

tionship between writer and addressee? Was the choice of language affected by the level of formality? Is it possible to see an intended audience for sources like memoirs where there is no immediate receiver? Does it play a role for the letter writing if the intended audience/receiver was a homeland Dane unacquainted with the life on the islands or a local receiver who shared a similar set of references and life experiences? AHL’s letters differ clearly with regard to whether she writes to her husband when he is away on travel or if she writes to her parents in Denmark. In the letters to her husband who of course is well-acquainted with everyday life on St. Croix, she uses local (English) expressions without any explanation, while she explains terms and customs when writing home to her relatives. Can a connection between language choice and social class be identified? In other words, did specific social groups use in specific languages or employ specific multilingual practices? An example from AHL’s letters provide indirect evidence: “jeg hørte Buksens kommanderende Røst: ’Baby shall at the Pot, quick quick Louise’, og i Stedet for at sige quick ligesom vi andre, raabte han ’kvæk kvæk’ akkurat ligesom Negerne, for du ved, at Kjeld altid taler Niggersprog – den Niggerboy, som han er!”.4 Here, AHL describes differences in pronunciation (in English, though) that marked social class and race of those who were speaking. Were the languages written monolingually or was the use of loanwords common? Do differences as to mono- or bilingual language use relate to private or official language use? Examples from AHL’s letters include both cultural loans from English, such as Cook, pantry, elders (members of the church council), Spanish work lommetørklæde ‘handkerchief with a certain kind of embroidery’, Sweet Tea and Sugarapples, but also English loans that have no obvious cultural assignment to the DWI society (e.g. busy, plenty, splendid, belly, etc.). Sometimes these loan words are marked by quotation marks or comments (e.g. som vi siger her ‘as we say here’), but AHL also use English terms and expressions unmarked. Are patriotic or nationalistic thoughts expressed in the data, perhaps through language awareness? Did the Danish debates of nation and language of the 18th and 19th century (see Holmegaard Aastrup 2018) reach the DWI? Is it possible through the data to see if nationality was of importance

|| 4 Our translation: “I heard Panty’s [pet name for her then young son Kjeld] commanding voice ‘Baby shall at the pot, quick quick, Louise’ and instead of pronouncing it ‘quick’ as we others do, he shouted ‘kvæk kvæk’ just as the Blacks, because you know that Kjeld [Astrid’s son] always speaks the Nigger language – the Nigger boy that he is!”

How Danish were the Danish West Indies? | 233

in a society where multiethnicity and multilingualism was an intrinsic part of everyday life? Did concerns of national heritage change over the years, and perhaps increase toward the 20th century? These questions address the social dimension of language use (I, II), linguistic and textual parameters (III), and the ideological dimension of language choice (IV). A vast amount of handwritten DWI documents can be found in the Danish National Archives which, as mentioned in Section 2, have made the documents available digitally since 2017 with high-quality images of the original sources.5 The data produced will be the backbone of the project, and in order to sustain the sustainability of the chosen data for further use, a database/corpus should be set up. There are several tools that seem to lend themselves to the task of organizing and processing the data, e.g. Microsoft Access, which offers an accessible way of managing the varieties of information across the different types of data. Depending on the length of the documents chosen, tools such as Transkribus may be adapted for the transcription process for documents that contain more than 100 pages of the same handwriting. However, Transkribus needs to be trained on manually transcribed data, and shorter documents must by all means be transcribed manually either by the researchers or by trained student assistants. Relevant documents include, but are not limited to, court records (1769– 1914), medical documents (1823–1910), commercial documents regarding trade and transactions, personal letters and travel descriptions and memoirs. Some of these text types have been investigated broadly in historical sociolinguistics (see, e.g., Auer et al. (2015b) and Elspaß (2015) on letter-writing and language change), others not so much. The family archives in the Danish National Archives are diverse with regards to content, but many contain correspondence with family and friends both in the DWI and in Denmark. A standardized set of categories regarding writer and addressee, division of roles in terms of professional and personal relations, and language choice would enable a comparative study between the family archives while showing more general differences compared to the official archives. Naturally, the size of the archives needs to be taken into account:

|| 5 In connection with the project a webpage was established, www.virgin-islands-history.org, that provides a search interface for the digitized DWI material. There are guides to the sources that can be found, guides on how to get started, and instructions on how to go about the sources if you are looking for a specific person or place. The page is also available in English.

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Archives with a fuller content enable comparative studies, while smaller archives that might hold one-of-a-kind-sources could give answers to more specific questions. The family archives provide us with the possibility of comparing documents from the same writer that differ with regard to content, degree of formality, and language choice, e.g. private letters vs. letters concerning business and trade sent and received between Denmark, America and Europe. Such a comparison of different texts from the same hand provides us with a direct linguistic reference value which otherwise may not be easy to establish. Trade relations and language choice should also be considered in combination with the overall historical development of the political situation on the islands, and how the colonial reality changed in the 1800s. Some archives with a more unique material exist, e.g. the apothecary P. E. Benzon’s archive that contains occasional songs (Danish lejlighedssange, i.e. songs written for special occasions such as birthdays) and officer A. F. Neumann’s archive that holds papers regarding The Danish Speaking Club. These data encourage a different set of questions dealing with content, purpose, message and audience/clientele. The bias of many historical sociolinguistic studies also holds for this suggested study as most sources with regards to the DWI were written by upper class white men (cf. Section 7 with regard to the limits of the research agenda presented here). However, the known letters by wives and servants mentioned above lead one to hope for more papers and letters from women which are often hidden in the family archives showing only the husband’s name. So, we may be able to establish a category for women alone, depending on the number of letters and documents written by or addressed to women. We are familiar with letters in the Carstens Archive written by and addressed to wife Jacobe/Jacoba Carstens, while a small archive after nurse Agnes Preuss also exists who wrote letters to her sister, describing life in the DWI. The Christian Falbe Archive contains letters to his wife, Clara, from her childhood nurse in the DWI. The larger archives might thus give a more balanced set of data with regard to biological gender, as it is the case with the archives mentioned. Below, we provide a non-exhaustive list of handwritten material from the private archives only as the official archives are easily found, and The Danish National Archives have a thorough list of official documents from the DWI, describing their contents and purposes. The archives in the list below are listed chronologically, according to birth year of the immediate person of interest: – Carstens, Johan Lorentz (1705–1747): planter; an extensive archive that contains letters from Vestindisk Guineisk Kompagni, correspondence with Zinzendorf, personal letters from Johan Lorentz and wife Jacobe/Jacoba, descrip-

How Danish were the Danish West Indies? | 235

– –

–

–

–

– – –

–

– –

tions of the DWI etc. This archive contains material sent internally between the islands, documents received from Denmark while living in the DWI, and material received from the DWI after they moved back to Denmark. Heinrich, Johan Friedrich (1730–1808): hospitalsmedikus [hospital physician]; this archive contains correspondence regarding his travels in the DWI. Moltke, Joachim Godske (1746–1817); count and politician; while he resided in Denmark his entire life, the archive could be of interest as it holds correspondence with overseas business partners and other documents regarding Vestindisk-Guineisk Kompagni. Schimmelmann, Ernst (1747–1831), Heinrich Carl (1724–1782): father and son, both ministers; this extensive archive regards the Schimmelmann family. While none lived in the DWI they were in large part involved in business on the islands, owning plantations, participating in debates regarding life and politics. The archive includes documents regarding the Schimmelmann Plantations, letters from the general governors in the DWI, records of literary and philosophical content as well as papers regarding philosophy, enlightenment, and education. Oxholm, Peter Lotharius (1753–1827); officer/cartographer and general governor; this archive contains letters and “Businesses regarding the Danish West Indian Islands” etc. Søbøtker, Family: Johannes Søbøtker (1777–1854) was General Governor of the DWI. Before taking office, Søbøtker owned his own shipping company in the DWI. The archives are most likely kept at Øregaard, a country house turned art museum built by Søbøtker himself. The archives could give much needed insight into a tradesman’s work and relations. Benzon, Peter Eggert (?–1848): apothecary in the DWI; contains Danish occasional songs. Arendrup, Family: Julius Arendrup (1840–1912) was a planter; the archive holds memoirs, correspondence, possibly papers from his wife as well. Falbe, Christian: the archive contains letters to his wife Clara (1847–1882) from her childhood nurse in St. Thomas that were sent to her after she moved back to Denmark. Helweg-Larsen, L. C. (1860–1934): governor; this archive contains photographs, household accounts, “West Indian businesses”, diary, memoirs, and correspondence. Preuss, Agnes (1866–1940): nurse; the archive contains letters for her sister with descriptions of life in the DWI. Neumann, A. F. (1871–1953): officer; this archive contains material regarding The Danish Speaking Club in the DWI.

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– –

Haagensen, Svend Rud (1886–1942): there are diaries from his stay on the islands 1916–1917 including a description/memoir of his stay. Zeilau, Theodor Cizeck (1886–1970): officer; this archive contains family letters from the DWI, correspondence and manuscripts regarding military relations in the DWI.

With few exceptions, it appears that the private archive material might be grouped into two: material from the mid to late 1700s, and material from the mid to late 1800s. Due to the vast amount and great variety of material, the expertise of a historical linguist or a historian interested in language use will be needed for this research.

4.3 Subproject 3: Danish West Indian place names as a representation of language policy The DWI had a multilingual mixture of toponyms (in Dutch, English, French, German, Danish, and Creole), depending on when and by whom a locality was first named, and some localities even had parallel name forms depending on the context in which and by whom they were used.6 The third approach to the DWI language ecology that we propose is an investigation of place names and naming practices as a way to look for evidence of a possible change in language policy. With regard to data, the toponomastic analyses will rely on a registration of a representative set of DWI place names from the three islands which will be sampled according to the methods and principles used in the ongoing edition of Danmarks Stednavne [Danish place names]. Different groups of toponyms will be listed by their exact spelling forms from a selected set of sources, e.g. maps, official documents, church registers, newspapers and non-administrative letters from around 1755, thus taking the socio-political changes of this year into account. Questions applied to the data are the following (as the research has not been done yet, we are unfortunately not able to provide examples of changes in place names): I. Is it possible to identify a change in official (and unofficial) place-naming after 1755? Did the royal Danish administration change certain place names from non-Danish to Danish forms? If so, was such a policy followed or disregarded outside the administration?

|| 6 This subproject is a reduced version of the project on toponyms in the Danish colonies Greenland and the DWI presented by Jakobsen and Lidsmoes in this volume.

How Danish were the Danish West Indies? | 237

II. Did more Danish place names emerge in the decades after 1755 than before? Did the royal Danish administration promote Danish name forms for new (or newly named) localities? If so, was such a policy accepted and perhaps even copied by name-giving parties outside the administration or was it met with opposition and unofficial formation of non-Danish parallel forms? III. Is it possible to identify differences in the place name policy for St. Thomas and St. John on the one side and the newly acquired St. Croix (1755) on the other? Did the royal Danish administration see better opportunities for implementing a place name policy in the newly acquired St. Croix? Or did the Danes take over a well-established French toponymy with no need for changes? IV. To what extent did the royal Danish administration and other involved parties make use of differing linguistic place name forms (parallel forms) in different contexts? Are there any systematic differences in choice of parallel name forms used by the same people depending on the context in which the names were used? V. This subproject mostly addresses the role of socio-political and ideological parameters for place-naming. In this regard, it relies on previous work on colonial toponomastics, e.g. Stolz and Warnke (2018).

5 Triangulation through three subprojects The three subprojects described above approach the historical Danish West Indian language ecology from different angles and based on different kinds of data, however, centered on the same period of time. Partly, data are medially different (e.g., handwritten vs. printed official announcements). This entails different technical approaches in order to be able to exploit and make the most of these sources. Partly, data are conceptually different (e.g. personal letters and diaries vs. official announcements), thus providing insights into the DWI society and language ecology from different angles. Some of the data represent the stage before the Danes became the colonial power (e.g., the place names of St. Croix), some data were created for internal use in the Danish West Indies (e.g., court records and the DWI newspapers) while other kinds of texts were intended for the faraway homeland (e.g., letters and travel records) or imagined recipients that were distant in time (e.g. memoirs). The variation in data is indeed a challenge, but by applying a consistent set of similar research questions addressing the same parameters and factors, the variation in data may become an advantage. Taken together, we are confident that the research agenda sketched here will shed light on a hitherto under-researched topic in Danish

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language history but also on more general aspects of historical multilingual societies and colonial settings.

6 Limitations of the project A caveat seems necessary with regard to what this research agenda may reveal and what it will not reveal: The emphasis on written texts implies a focus on the small but powerful minority of Europeans or locally-born Eurocaribbeans who formed the socioeconomic elite of the DWI. Documents were produced by colonial institutions or written/accepted by newspapers whose targeted audience were people able to make their own decisions and free to act on them. To be a writer and reader of these texts, i.e. actively shaping the written language ecology of the DWI by producing texts and/or representing a relevant audience, required a certain command of reading and writing competence in one of the written European languages (e.g. Danish, English, or Dutch), access to these channels and socioeconomic means. The major part of the population of the DWI did not have these means. To the same end, it is worth considering the interests that lie behind the personal documents contained by the family archives: Obviously, these documents were cherished enough to have been collected and safeguarded as family heritage, implying the economic means and individual capacity to do so. The same holds for the official archives. Taken together this means that the research agenda described here would not reveal the linguistic practices of the majority of the Danish West Indian population, i.e. the enslaved Africans or locally-born Afro-Caribbeans. Rather, it addresses the social practices of the educated Danish West Indian elite with access to, and motivation for, producing and consuming written texts. Such a bias towards the socioeconomic elite, unsatisfying as it may be, is not at all unusual in historical linguistics, however. Material wealth and socioeconomic power tend to pair with education and thus historical sources are strongly biased towards formal writing of highly educated men of the upper ranks of society (Auer et al. 2015a: 6–7). Hence, large parts of the population are usually excluded from the textual records, as, e.g., enslaved persons in the DWI or women of the lower classes in the European societies. For the DWI this implies that knowledge about the population majority is almost only gained through indirect evidence such as reports by the missionaries, trial proceedings, etc. (see, for example, Sebro 2010; Simonsen 2017).

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7 Conclusion With this description we have outlined a number of desiderata in the research on the DWI. We have also pointed out the possibilities that are offered by the newly digitized Danish West Indian documents and the potential that lies in the combination of different foci and methodologies tied together by a consistent set of research questions. We hope to have shown convincingly that there is much knowledge to be gained when entering into the terra incognita of historical Danish in the Danish West Indies.

References Auer, Anita, Catharina Peersman, Simon Pickl, Gijsbert Rutten & Rik Vosters. 2015a. Historical sociolinguistics: The field and its future. Journal of Historical Sociolinguistics 1(1). 1–12. Auer, Anita, Daniel Schreier & Watts, Richard J. (eds.). 2015b. Letter writing and language change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bakker, Peter. 2003. Scandinavians and their creoles. Acta linguistica Hafniensia 35. 95–114. Bakker, Peter. forthcoming. Kolonierne. In Ebba Hjorth, Birgitte Jacobsen, Henrik Galberg Jacobsen, Bent Jørgensen & Merete K. Jørgensen (eds.), Dansk Sproghistorie. Dansk i samspil [Danish language history. Danish in interaction], vol. 5. Copenhagen: Det Danske Sprog- og Litteraturselskab. Bøegh, Kristoffer Friis. 2018. Spor fra dansk i De Amerikanske Jomfruøers engelsk-kreolsk [Traces of Danish in the English Creole of the U.S. Virgin Islands]. Maal & Maele 39(2). 24–29. Det Danske Sprog- og Litteraturselskab. 1918–1956. Ordbog over det danske sprog [Danish language dictionary]. Copenhagen: Gyldendal. Dewein, Barbara, Stefan Engelberg, Susanne Hackmack, Wolfram Karg, Birte KellermeierRehbein, Peter Muhlhäusler, Daniel Schmidt-Brücken, Christina Schneemann, Doris Stolberg, Thomas Stolz & Ingo Warnke. 2012. Forschungsgruppe Koloniallinguistik: Profil – Programmatik – Projekte. Zeitschrift für germanistische Linguistik 40(2). 242–249. Eliasson, Stig. 2013. Language ecology in the work of Einar Haugen. In Wim Vandenbussche, Ernst H. Jahr & Peter Trudgill (eds.), Language ecology for the 21st century. Linguistic conflicts and social environments, 15–63. Oslo: Novus. Elspaß, Stefan. 2015. Private letters as a source for an alternative history of Middle New High German. In Anita Auer, Daniel Schreier & Richard J. Watts (eds.), Letter writing and language change, 35–52. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Engelberg, Stefan & Doris Stolberg. 2012a. Einleitung. Die Koloniallinguistik und ihre Forschungsfelder. In Stefan Engelberg & Doris Stolberg (eds.), Sprachwissenschaft und kolonialzeitlicher Sprachkontakt. Sprachliche Begegnungen und Auseinandersetzungen, 7–13. Berlin: Akademie Verlag. Engelberg, Stefan & Doris Stolberg (eds.). 2012b. Sprachwissenschaft und kolonialzeitlicher Sprachkontakt. Sprachliche Begegnungen und Auseinandersetzungen. Berlin: Akademie Verlag.

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Engelberg, Stefan & Doris Stolberg. 2016. Sprachkontakt in kolonialen Kontexten I. Quellenkundliche Aspekte. In Thomas Stolz, Ingo Warnke & Daniel Schmidt-Brücken (eds.), Sprache und Kolonialismus. Eine interdisziplinäre Einführung zu Sprache und Kommunikation in kolonialen Kontexten, 96–119. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Gøbel, Erik. 2002. A guide to the sources for the history of the Danish West Indies (U.S. Virgin Islands), 1617–1917. Odense: University Press of Southern Denmark. Gumperz, John J. 1982. Discourse strategies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hall, Neville A. T. 1985. The Danish West Indies. Empire without dominion 1671–1848. U.S. Virgin Islands: Division of Libraries, Museums and Archeological Services, Occasional Paper No.8. Haugen, Einar & Anwar S. Dil. 1972. The ecology of language: Essays. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Hjort Ebba, Birgitte Jacobsen, Henrik Galberg Jacobsen, Bent Jørgensen & Merete K. Jørgensen (eds.). 2016. Dansk Sproghistorie. Dansk tager form [Danish language history. Danish takes shape]. Vol. 1. København: Det Danske Sprog- og Litteraturselskab. Hjort Ebba, Birgitte Jacobsen, Henrik Galberg Jacobsen, Bent Jørgensen & Merete K. Jørgensen (eds.). 2018. Dansk Sproghistorie. Ord for ord [Danish language history. Word for word]. Vol. 2. Copenhagen: Det Danske Sprog- og Litteraturselskab. Hjort Ebba, Birgitte Jacobsen, Henrik Galberg Jacobsen, Bent Jørgensen & Merete K. Jørgensen (eds.). 2019. Dansk Sproghistorie. Bøjning og bygning [Danish language history. Inflection and morphology]. Vol. 3. Copenhagen: Det Danske Sprog- og Litteraturselskab. Hjort Ebba, Birgitte Jacobsen, Henrik Galberg Jacobsen, Bent Jørgensen & Merete K. Jørgensen (eds.). forthcoming a. Dansk Sproghistorie. Dansk i brug [Danish language history. Danish in action]. Vol. 4. Copenhagen: Det Danske Sprog- og Litteraturselskab. Hjort Ebba, Birgitte Jacobsen, Henrik Galberg Jacobsen, Bent Jørgensen & Merete K. Jørgensen (eds.). forthcoming b. Dansk Sproghistorie. Dansk i samspil [Danish language history. Danish in interaction]. Vol. 5. Copenhagen: Det Danske Sprog- og Litteraturselskab. Holmegaard Aastrup, Iben. 2018. Modersmålets udtryk og funktion. Korrekt dansk og samfundsidealer i det 18. og 19. århundrede [The mothertongue’s expression and function. Proper Danish language and societal ideals in the 17th and 18th century]. Unpublished Masterthesis. University of Copenhagen, Copenhagen. Kalkar, Otto (ed.). 1976. Ordbog til det ældre danske Sprog 1300–1700 [Dictionary of the older Danish language 1300–1700]. Copenhagen: Akademisk Forlag. Kellermeier-Rehbein, Birte, Matthias Schulz & Doris Stolberg (eds.). 2015. Sprachgebrauch, Sprachkonzepte und Sprachenpolitik in kolonialen und postkolonialen Kontexten. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Kellermeier-Rehbein, Birte, Doris Stolberg & Matthias Schulz (eds.). 2018. Sprache und (Post)Kolonialismus. Linguistische und interdisziplinäre Aspekte. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Koch, Peter & Wulf Oesterreicher. 1986. Sprache der Nähe – Sprache der Distanz. Mündlichkeit und Schriftlichkeit im Spannungsfeld von Sprachtheorie und Sprachgeschichte. Romanistisches Jahrbuch 36. 15–43. Koch, Peter & Wulf Oesterreicher. 2007. Schriftlichkeit und kommunikative Distanz. Zeitschrift für germanistische Linguistik 35. 346–375.

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Koch, Peter & Wulf Oesterreicher. 2012. Language of immediacy – Language of distance: Orality and literacy from the perspective of language theory and linguistic history. Portal für Zweitveröffentlichungen der Philosophischen Fakultät. 441–473. Liebst, Jette. 1996. Peoples and languages in the Danish West Indies in the 18th century: Was there a Danish language policy? In Ernst-Ulrich Pinkert (ed.), Language and cultural hegemony, 111–128. Aalborg: Aalborg University Press. Machan, Tim William. 2011. The visual pragmatics of code-switching in late Middle English literature. In Herbert Schendl & Laura Wright (eds.), Code-switching in early English, 303– 331. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Matras, Yaron. 2009. Language contact. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Muysken, Pieter. 2000. Bilingual speech. A typology of code-mixing. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Oldendorp, C. G. A. 1767–1768. Criolisches Wörterbuch. Erster zu vermehrender und wo nöthig zu verbessernder Versuch. Edn. by Peter Stein (2000). Olsen, Poul Erik (ed.). 2017. Vestindien. St. Croix, St. Thomas og St. Jan [The Danish West Indies. St. Croix, St. Thomas and St. Jan]. Copenhagen: Gads Forlag. Pahta, Päivi, Janne Skaffari & Laura Wright. 2018. From historical code-switching to multilingual practices in the past. In Päivi Pahta, Janne Skaffari & Laura Wright (eds.), Multilingual practices in language history. English and beyond, 3–18. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Percy, Carol. 2012. Early advertising and newspapers as sources of sociolinguistic investigation. In Juan Manuel Hernández‐Campoy & Juan Camilo Conde-Silvestre (ed.), The handbook of historical sociolinguistics, 191–210. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons. Sabino, Robin. 2012. Language contact in the Danish West Indies. Giving Jack his jacket. Leiden: Brill. Schmidt-Brücken, Daniel, Susanne Schuster, Thomas Stolz, Ingo Warnke & Marina Wienberg (eds.). 2015. Koloniallinguistik. Sprache in kolonialen Kontexten. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Schmidt-Brücken, Daniel, Susanne Schuster & Marina Wienberg (eds.). 2016. Aspects of (post)colonial linguistics. Current perspectives and new approaches. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Schneider, Edgar W. 2013. Investigating historical variation and change in written documents: New perspectives. In J[ack] K. Chambers & Natalie Schilling (eds.), The handbook of language variation and change. 2. edn, 57–81. Malden: Wiley-Blackwell. Schulz, Matthias. 2015. Quellen-Fragen. Überlegungen zur Korpusfundierung einer Kolonialsprachgeschichte. In Daniel Schmidt-Brücken, Susanne Schuster, Thomas Stolz, Ingo Warnke & Marina Wienberg (eds.), Koloniallinguistik. Sprache in kolonialen Kontexten, 57–89. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Schulz, Matthias. 2016. Sprachgeschichte des deutschen Kolonialismus. Korpuslinguistische Aspekte. In Thomas Stolz, Ingo Warnke & Daniel Schmidt-Brücken (eds.), Sprache und Kolonialismus. Eine interdisziplinäre Einführung zu Sprache und Kommunikation in kolonialen Kontexten, 52–72. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Sebba, Marc. 2012a. Researching and theorising multilingual texts. In Marc Sebba, Shahrzad Mahootian & Carla Jonsson (eds.), Language mixing and code-switching in writing: Approaches to mixed-language written discourse, 1–26. New York & London: Routledge. Sebba, Mark. 2012b. Multilingualism in written discourse. An approach to the analysis of multilingual texts. International Journal of Bilingualism 17(1). 97–118.

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Sebro, Louise. 2010. Mellem afrikaner og kreol: etnisk identitet og social navigation i Dansk Vestindien 1730–1770 [Between African and Creole: Ethnic identity and social navigation in the Danish West Indies 1730–1770]. PhD-thesis. Lund University. Simonsen, Gunvor. 2017. Slave stories. Law, representation, and gender in the Danish West Indies. Aarhus: Aarhus Universitetsforlag. Skautrup, Peter. 1944–1970. Det danske sprogs historie [The history of the Danish language]. 5 volumes. Copenhagen: Gyldendal. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.). 2018. Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas, Christina Vossmann & Barbara Dewein. 2011. Kolonialzeitliche Sprachforschung und das Forschungsprogramm Koloniallinguistik: eine kurze Einführung. In Thomas Stolz, Christina Vossmann & Barbara Dewein (eds.), Kolonialzeitliche Sprachforschung. Die Beschreibung afrikanischer und ozeanischer Sprachen zur Zeit der deutschen Kolonialherrschaft, 8–29. Berlin: Akademie Verlag. Warnke, Ingo, Thomas Stolz & Daniel Schmidt-Brücken. 2016. Perspektiven der Postcolonial Language Studies. In Thomas Stolz, Ingo Warnke & Daniel Schmidt-Brücken (eds.), Sprache und Kolonialismus. Eine interdisziplinäre Einführung zu Sprache und Kommunikation in kolonialen Kontexten, 1–26. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton.



Part IV: Fresh Data

Anna Wolter

Stadt der Kolonien Street names in colonial contexts with particular consideration of the Hanseatic City of Bremen Abstract: The present article focusses on the street names of Bremen. The aim is to analyze the construction patterns of street names, against the background of the question whether colonial street names display special characteristics. Keywords: toponymy, German colonial street names, Bremen

1 Introduction The research of toponyms has been experiencing a concise upswing within the last few years. Although not a new field per se, there has been an increased interest in the study of place names and the development of new methods in recent times. This is connected inter alia with the growing need of the former European colonial powers to confront their own past. Among other things, toponymy forms an interdisciplinary interface between linguistics, history, law, culture, politics, and potentially numerous other sciences. Colonial toponymy derives from the joint work of these disciplines. It is a branch which, although linguistically dominated, provides information on a wide range of related topics. In the following, a concrete example is presented to illustrate the correlation between morphology, sociolinguistics, commemorative culture, and politics. The street names of the Hanseatic city of Bremen provide this opportunity. With its hundreds of years of history, the city has an exciting complexity in its city text.1 Through the morphological analysis of the street names and the investigation of their backgrounds – in this case focused on street names in colonial contexts – information regarding colonial traces at the level of microtoponymy, language as an instrument of power and the collective memory of a society is gained. Furthermore, the study supports arguments for prototypical and nonprototype construction patterns of street names in general and colonial street names in particular. || 1 The entirety of street names (cf. Azaryahu 2009: 64). || Anna Wolter, University of Bremen, FB 10: Linguistics/Language Sciences, UniversitätsBoulevard 13, 28359 Bremen, Germany. E-Mail: [email protected] https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-010

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2 Terminology 2.1 Streets The present article is based on the definition provided by the Bremisches Landesstraßengesetz (BremLStrG) [State Roads Act], which has been in effect since 20th December 1976. Section 2(1) states: “Straßen im Sinne dieses Gesetzes sind diejenigen Straßen, Wege und Plätze, die dem öffentlichen Verkehr gewidmet sind” [Streets as defined in this Act are those streets, paths and squares dedicated to public transport2]. Subsection 2 no. 1 supplements the above by including all elements which per definition belong to the road concept, including bridges and tunnels, ditches, and official road signs (cf. ibid.). The laws applied vary depending on the street group to which a street is assigned. Derived from their respective importance for traffic, roads can be divided into Groups A, B, and C, with Group A having the highest traffic importance, since they form a superordinate network together with the federal trunk roads. Group B, consisting of roads that are particularly conducive to traffic within a municipality, can be classified as of medium importance. Group C has a lower relevance in everyday life, as these are usually roads of minor importance for traffic. This may also serve as justification for Section 37(4), which states that streets in the latter group need not be given a name under certain conditions (cf. ibid.). The right to determine the name of a street in Bremen lies with the municipality as the lowest administrative unit of the state (cf. Konopka and Wermke 2010: 425). Which names may be used is, however, subject to specific regulations. In theory, although, every citizen is entitled to express his or her suggestions, certain applications must, in principle, be rejected. This category includes, for example, names that are based on living persons, which is not permitted under the current legal situation. In the Middle Ages, on the other hand, it was common practice to name streets after building names, which were usually assigned by the owners, in order to support the orientational function (cf. Winkelmann 1984: 26), whereby the names of the owners themselves or their ancestors were often used. It was only in the 19th century that state requirements for street names were established (Winkelmann 1984: 26). Dietz Bering (2001: 567) notes: Die Namen vor der napoleonischen Sattelzeit entstammen einem mündlichen Diskurs, der sich ohne öffentlich-staatliche Lenkung an- und fortspann. [The names before the Napoleonic saddle period originate from an oral discourse which started and continued without official control.]

|| 2 Unless otherwise stated, all translations are mine.

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However, there are more recent examples of the naming after a living person. The Senate protocol of 15th April 1930 shows that the then Mayor of Bremen and President of the Senate, Martin Donandt, submitted a motion by the Bremen members of the committee for the Hedwig Heyl Foundation. The letter dealt with the request to honor Hedwig Heyl by naming a street after her on the occasion of her 80th birthday. Although the applicants themselves referred to the possibility of conducting this homage after the death of the named, Donandt explained [e]s scheine aber nach Lage der Verhältnisse wohl gerechtfertigt, im vorliegenden Sonderfalle eine Ausnahme zu machen und der Jubilarin Frau Dr. Hedwig Heyl in dem ihr demnächst zu übermittelnden Glückwunschschreiben des Senats gleichzeitig mitzuteilen, daß der Senat beschlossen habe, bei demnächst sich bietender Gelegenheit einer Straße in Bremen den Namen Hedwig Heyl-Straße beizulegen [StAB3, file 3-S.8.b. Karl-PetersStraße/Ottilie-Hoffmann-Straße] [Given the circumstances, however, it seems justified to make an exception in this special case and to inform the jubilant Dr. Hedwig Heyl in the congratulatory letter of the Senate, which will be sent to her shortly, that the Senate has decided to attach the name Hedwig Heyl-Straße to a street in Bremen at the next opportunity]

Furthermore, according to the BremLStrG, it is not permitted to assign the same name to two streets within a municipality (cf. Die Senatorin für Finanzen [Finance Senator] 2016). Under certain circumstances, this can lead to a street being renamed rather quickly if, for example, two streets with the same name have to be assigned the same postal code due to a new incorporation, thus making it more difficult to distinguish between them. Usually, however, renaming is avoided if possible. In many cases, the costs associated with a renaming, which residents would incur in the course of renewing their documents, are cited as a reason for maintaining a street name.4

2.2 Constituents and morphology of street names If you examine the city map of a German city and its street names, you can quickly observe that there seems to be a certain morphological regularity. Street names in German cities prototypically consist of two constituents. There are different terms in the technical literature which describe these elements. Kauf-

|| 3 File of the Staatsarchiv Bremen [State Archives Bremen], hereafter StAB. 4 Cf. the case of Karl-Peters-Straße in Bremen (Gerling 2010).

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mann (1977: 6), for instance, uses the terms Bestimmungsglied ‘determiner constituent’ and Grundglied ‘root constituent’ for his establishment of a “basic scheme” in the course of an analysis of German place names. Rita Heuser introduces the terms Bestimmungswort ‘determiner word’ and Grundwort ‘root word’ in her work on the street names and localities of Mainz. Grundwort includes all terms that usually refer to the road type. Frequently used representatives of this group are among others Weg ‘lane’, Straße ‘street’, Gang ‘alley’, Stieg ‘steps’ or Platz ‘square’ (cf. Heuser 2008: 557). Bestimmungswörter, on the other hand, serve to determine the Grundwort more accurately. They can therefore originate from a variety of name classes. As of the second half of the 19th century, for example, the use of anthroponyms, i.e. personal names, as a Bestimmungswort has become widespread (cf. Heuser 2008: 611). Not only local but also national or international personalities can be honored by a street named after them. While Brahmsstraße can be found in various German cities (e.g. Bremen, Lübeck, Munich or Regensburg), Crüsemannallee (named after the co-founder of the Bremen shipping company Norddeutscher Lloyd Eduard Crüsemann) appears exclusively in Bremen’s city text. Further commonly used name classes are toponyms or place names (cf. Bremer Straße ‘Bremen Street’ in Hamburg), phytonyms or plant names (cf. Erlenstraße ‘Alder Street’ in Bremen) or hydronyms or water names (cf. Donauweg ‘Danube Lane’ in Hamburg). Numerous other classes which may provide Bestimmungswörter could be mentioned. A different terminology is applied by Stolz end Warnke (2018b), among others, in their analysis of toponyms in colonial contexts. They employ the terms classifier and modifier to describe the constituents of place names. Applying this terminology to the study of street names, classifier can be understood synonymously to Grundwort. It should be noted that on the macro level of toponyms as well as on the micro level of dromo- and hodonyms the order of the two constituents can vary, so that both the classifier and the modifier can form the first constituent. The position of the classifier, i.e. the constituent that describes the street type, forms the head. The analysis of a prototypical street name in (1) illustrates this in more detail. (1) a. b.

Morphology of prototypical street names, right-headed Isarstraße ‘lit. Isar-street’ [IsarMOD-straßeCLASS]TOP Heideplatz ‘lit. Heide-square’ [HeideMOD-platzCLASS]TOP

The two constituents modifier (MOD) and classifier (CLASS) combine to form the toponym (TOP), i.e. the street name. The first example (1a) shows the prototypi-

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cal structure of a dromonym. The classifier fills the position to the right of the modifier marking this construction as right-headed. The same applies to the prototypical structure of a hodonym (1b). By inserting the classifier -platz ‘square’ in the right slot, a right-headed construction is created. If the classifier occupies the left slot, it is accordingly a left-headed construction. However, this pattern does not contradict the canonical structure.5 (2) a. b.

Morphology of prototypical street names, left-headed Straße der Nationen ‘lit. street of nations’ [StraßeCLASS {der Nationen}MOD]TOP Platz der Republik ‘lit. square of the Republic’ [PlatzCLASS {der Republik}MOD]TOP

Although numerically less common, since in these cases the “Gebot der Einfachheit” [Law of simplicity] (Heuser 2008: 558) of street names seems neglected, these constructions nevertheless form morphologically correct representations of the left-headed structure. It is noticeable, however, that these patterns cannot be realized without the insertion of a connective word. Examples (2a) and (2b) show a genitive construction which, together with an appellativum, forms the modifier and fills the right slot. Another option is offered by prepositional structures (3a), which, however, are avoided in the current renaming of streets (cf. Heuser 2008: 557f.). (3) a.

Morphology of street names with prepositional structure Straße im Walde ‘lit. Street in the forest’ [StraßeCLASS {imPREP WaldeAPP}MOD]TOP

The internal structure of the classifiers and modifiers is a further noticeable feature. While examples (2a) and (2b) already indicate that a modifier can have several elements, an example from the city of Dingolfing in Lower Bavaria will illustrate this assumption. Its Bischöflich-Geistlicher-Rat-Josef-Zinnbauer-Straße [Episcopal Ministerial Counsellor Josef Zinnbauer Street] has a five-part modifier and was listed in the newspaper Der Tagesspiegel as the longest street name in Germany (cf. During 2014). This fact is an indication that, from a morphological perspective, there is no maximum limit to the potential number of limbs of a modifier. Nevertheless, the Bavarian example demonstrates a violation of the “Law of simplicity” mentioned above. On the other hand, a classifier with several elements seems to contradict canonical morphology.

|| 5 For canonical colonial toponym cf. Stolz and Warnke (2018b: 27ff).

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As previously mentioned, the examples provided in (1a) to (3a) represent prototypical structures. They are neither restricted to a specific epoch (e.g. the period of German colonial activity), nor to specific areas of today’s Federal Republic of Germany.6 The street names cited for the examples can be found in Bremen, Hamburg, Frankfurt, Berlin and Regensburg, among others. However, there are verifiable cases in the field of street names where it appears that one of the two typically used constituents can be omitted. Examples are the Bremen street names Schorf and Wegesende ‘Lane’s End’. It could be justifiably assumed that in the first case the construction does not contain a classifier, while in the second case the position of the modifier does not seem to be occupied. Whether these are indeed street names that leave one of the two slots void requires an individual investigation, but will not be dealt with here, since neither street name has a colonial context.

2.3 Colonial/postcolonial For the research in colonial contexts it is crucial to define the terms colonial and postcolonial – if possible – in order to avoid misunderstandings. In this study of street names in colonial contexts, a temporal definition referring to German colonialism is applied, in which colonial refers to the period from 1871 to 1919. This time frame results from the historical background, which shows that preparatory measures for the foundation of colonies had already been initiated before the conclusion of so-called protection treaties, and begins with the foundation of the German Empire. Postcolonial accordingly describes the period after the official cession of these territories, stipulated in the Treaty of Versailles of 28 June 1919. Warnke et al. (2016: 7f.) state that Sprache in kolonialen Kontexten zu untersuchen, bedeutet, Kolonialismus als eine spezifische Herrschaftsform in ihren spezifischen sprachlichen Auswirkungen in den Blick zu nehmen, die Linguistik dabei als Teil kolonialer Praxisfelder wissenschaftshistorisch zu verorten, übliche Termini auf ihre kolonialen Verweise zu hinterfragen und Sprache bzw. Sprachgebrauch in allen Dimensionen im Kontext von Kolonialität sowie teilweise auch kolonial verankertem Rassismus zu analysieren. [Investigating language in colonial contexts means taking a look at colonialism as a specific form of governance in its specific linguistic effects, locating linguistics as part of colonial areas of practice in the history of science, questioning common terms with regard to their colonial references, and analysing language and language usage in all dimensions in the context of coloniality and, in part, colonially rooted racism.]

|| 6 This does not preclude the analysis of a preference in the choice of construction pattern for a particular epoch or region (cf. Azaryahu 2009: 53).

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With reference to Warnke et al. eds. (2016: 1ff.), however, it is noted that applying this understanding of colonial and postcolonial can only reveal a partial aspect of the broad field connected with these terms and other lexemes associated with the term colonialism in linguistics as well as other disciplines.

3 Research positions and projects Publications in the field of toponymy are not a new phenomenon. Works describing place names in general were already relevant 70 years ago (see Schwarz 1950, Bach 1956). Following the frequent criticism by scientists in the 1990s that toponymy often appeared to be a marginally treated field (cf. Bering et al.1999: 137), a significant increase in interest in the study of place names could be observed in recent years. Important basic works such as the anthology Namenarten und ihre Erforschung – Ein Lehrbuch für das Studium der Onomastik [Name types and their investigation – A textbook for the study of onomastics] (Brendler and Brendler 2004) or the subsequent publication Namen – Eine Einführung in die Onomastik [Names – An introduction to onomastics] (Nübling et al. 2012), as well as the monograph Namenkunde und Namengeschichte [Study of names and history of names] (Debus 2012) point out the role of onomastics in general and discuss the subfield of toponymy in detail. In addition, a new field of research has been opened up, “das neue sprachwissenschaftliche Forschungsgebiet Koloniallinguistik” [the new research area of colonial linguistics] (Stolz et al. 2011: 7). It deals with various aspects of colonialism and thematisiert und problematisiert (…) den Zusammenhang zwischen Sprache und Kolonialismus, der in einer Betrachtung derselben Phänomene unter anderen disziplinären Fragestellungen nicht in der gleichen Schärfe sichtbar wird. (Engelberg and Stolberg 2012: 7) [thematizes and problematizes (...) the connection between language and colonialism, which is not visible with the same sharpness when considering the same phenomena under other disciplinary questions.]

Several papers published in recent years, even decades, have been concerned with the investigation of street names in different ways, both synchronically (cf. Pabel 2001) and diachronically (cf. Walther 1985). Moreover, works providing an overall impression were already published at the beginning of the last century (cf. Volckmann 1919), but they display certain gaps which could only be closed with the development of research – and only partially so far. The main research areas of interest for the synchronic investigation of street names in recent times are the medieval street names (cf. Glasner 1999), the street names of the Nation-

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al Socialist era and the post-war period (cf. Werner 2008) and the street names of the German Democratic Republic and the re-unified Federal Republic of Germany (cf. Azaryahu 1986, Azaryahu 1992, Korff 1992). Diachronic observations of individual urban landscapes are also considered relevant (cf. Bering et al. 1999). The studies on this subject range from merely informative, local history lexicons without any scientific claim (cf. Porsch 2010) to fundamental research against the background of a specific individual aspect (cf. Bake 2000) to dissertations that incorporate current methods and theories in order to arrive at wellfounded results and lay the foundation for further research (cf. Heuser 2008). Until a few years ago, less attention was devoted to the period of German colonialism, or rather the street names that emerged in the context of German colonialism. Further relevant are previous studies of naming, or designation as a demonstration of power, often against political backgrounds (cf. Kühn 2001). Colonial toponymy has received special attention at the University of Bremen since 2015 among other aspects in the course of a broad research project aiming at a comparative colonial toponomastics. Primarily, this is based on the previous research results of Thomas Stolz and Ingo H. Warnke, which have been published since Stolz and Warnke (2015). The approach presented by them for macrotoponomastic context will be adopted elsewhere in this paper on the level of microtoponymy. The systematically analyzed construction patterns, although originally presented for the investigation of colonial and postcolonial toponyms in general, can be applied in modified form to the investigation of street names in colonial and postcolonial contexts, since they offer a system for synchronic observation. Special attention is paid to naming motivations with reference to persons. Furthermore, this article follows several major projects that have been developed within the last 30 years. As early as 1989, Dietz Bering and his team presented a project draft at the University of Cologne which aimed at researching Cologne’s street names synchronically and diachronically. The defined time frame was intended to cover all epochs from the Middle Ages to the present. Further aims were the establishment of an interdisciplinary research approach (cf. Bering et al. 1999: 143) and the development of a methodological toolkit for the analysis of diachronic and synchronic street name corpora with the perspective of comparative studies (Bering et al. 1999: 144). The thoroughness and high degree of motivation are reflected on the one hand in the four state examinations and master’s theses that emerged from the project, and on the other hand in the development of a detailed category grid and a step-by-step guide to the analysis of street names that can be used as a foundation for work with similar objectives.

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Another example of the intensive research of street names on a diachronic level is the investigation of Mainz street names and localities by Rita Heuser (2008), who presented the collection, interpretation, and linguistic and motivational history of her findings in a dissertation. Although some incidental remarks of the work seem worthy of discussion7, it may be regarded as a link to the major project in Cologne and as an additional element on the way to the comparative studies envisaged by Bering et al. As a partial aspect of the overarching theme of microtoponymy, the background of the origin of street names is examined from a historical and topographical point of view in order to show the connection between name collocations and local and regional history (cf. Heuser 2008: 1). A third example of the extensive exploration of toponyms is the Comparative Colonial Toponomastics (CoCoToP) project (cf. Stolz et al. 2016, Stolz and Warnke 2018b). Although the primary goal is to determine to what extent the formal and semantic properties of typical place names from different languages of former colonial powers are similar (cf. Stolz et al. 2016: 280), its focus on toponyms in colonial contexts makes it relevant as well. In the course of their several years of research in this field, Stolz and Warnke (2015) described, among other aspects, various patterns for the naming of geo-objects in the former colonies, which will be discussed elsewhere in more detail.

4 Data and methodology 4.1 Data The data used consists mainly of hodonyms, sometimes also dromonyms, which are part of the city text of Bremen today or were in the period between 1871 and 2018. Street names of the second city of the State of Bremen – Bremerhaven – are not taken into account in this study, since Bremerhaven was founded only a few decades before the active colonial policy of the German Empire began, and thus the street names reflect a much shorter history than those of the city of Bremen. This in turn would distort the later overall impression in a quantitative analysis of the street names. At an appropriate point, however, the street names

|| 7 One could, for example, investigate the extent to which the residents of a street actually identify with it more closely (cf. Heuser 2008: 18), or discuss to what extent the appearance, layout and the name of a street can be influenced by the status of its inhabitants (cf. Heuser 2008: 31).

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of the city of Hamburg, which have already been researched more thoroughly in terms of historically relevant aspects by the afrika-hamburg.de project, are presented in a comparative and supplementary manner. Since both cities were founded in roughly the same period – ca. 782 A.D. in the case of Bremen (cf. Schwarzwälder 1995a: 22) and ca. 831 A.D. in the case of Hamburg (cf. Kleßmann 1981: 18) – the development of their street names also encompasses an almost identical period of time. Other commonalities can be identified, which support the interest in comparative analysis.8 The data collected comprise 54 Bremen street names. Since no comparable preliminary work has been done, the Bremen street names are derived from different sources. For this purpose, both those sources that contain a comprehensive list of Bremen streets but treat the naming motivation as secondary (cf. Porsch 2010) and those that proceed less quantitatively than qualitatively (cf. Berlin Postkolonial e.V./HMJokinen, undated) were used. The street names found in Bremen in the course of the freedom roads project with presumed colonial backgrounds served as a basis. Freedom roads is explicitly concerned with colonial street names and has so far designed a touring exhibition and an informative website, in order to collect research results that critically deal with (German) colonialism. After initially verifying their existence by means of city maps, the corresponding street files could be accessed at the StAB. Although no motivation for designation is apparent from the files9, they often provide information on the date of designation. In addition, the review of the index card collection 3.-S.8.b. of the State Archives Bremen revealed further colonial street names that added 39 street names to the list originally emanating from the freedom roads initiative, including streets that had been renamed in the meantime. No archive material could be found for a total of 15 streets.

|| 8 Both are port or trading cities which – together with Lübeck – played an important role in the increasing globalization and trade expansion of Germany. In the German Confederation they pursued common interests which were to be accompanied by the title of Free Hanseatic City. In addition, both Bremen and Hamburg – along with Lübeck and Frankfurt – were granted the status of free cities with the promulgation of the German Federal Act in 1815 (cf. Schwarzwälder 1995b: 51). In addition, both cities were home to several colonial actors, although it can also be noted that in relevant publications of historical studies, Bremen and Hamburg merchants are often mentioned in connection with the first contact with inhabitants of later protectorates and the conclusion of so-called protection treaties (cf. Reed-Anderson 2004). 9 Exceptions are Hedwig-Heyl-Straße proposed in 1930 and Legion Condor-Straße existing between 1939 and 1945, the background of whose naming is described in detail in the corresponding files. (see StAB, file 3-S.8.b. Karl-Peters-Straße/Ottilie-Hoffmann-Straße and StAB, file 3-S.8.b. Franco-Allee).

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A special case is the Lettow-Vorbeck-Straße, which is mentioned in the course of the exhibition freedom roads as well as in academic literature (see Schulz and Ebert 2016: 370) as a street that once existed in Bremen. Although the chronicle by Fritz Peters (1951: February 1938) files that from February 1938 there was a Lettow-Vorbeck-Schule [Lettow Vorbeck School], previously listed under the name Realgymnasium an der Kaiser-Friedrich-Straße [Secondary School at the Kaiser-Friedrich-Straße], there is no evidence of a street of the same name in Bremen. The only verifiable renaming of the Kaiser-FriedrichStraße was performed in May 1947. Until today it is called Hermann-Böse-Straße and the high school located there – the former Lettow-Vorbeck-Schule – is called Hermann-Böse-Gymnasium [Hermann Böse Secondary School]. In addition, the Bremer Straßenlexikon [Bremen Street Lexicon] by Monika Porsch (2010) was consulted, which provides a comprehensive list of Bremen street names and often indicates their naming motivation – although in some cases a more detailed background research would have been desirable. Thoroughly examined were all the street names listed in this work, which: – were named after a person who lived shortly before or during the German colonial period and who may therefore have been involved in colonial activities (see Appendix: Nachtigalstraße; – were named after colonial toponyms, i.e. e.g. after former protectorates (see Appendix: Togostraße); – contain a term that could be related to the colonial era (see Appendix: Koprastraße). The exact background of the individual street names, if known, will be explained later or in the Appendix.

4.2 Methodology In the course of the analysis of the 54 street names it will be determined whether the respective street still exists today by the same name, whether a corresponding file exists in the State Archives, when the street was designated and when it was possibly renamed, which names were attached to the street in the past if the sources indicate that a renaming took place, which background the designation probably has and how the street name can be analyzed structurally. In order to clarify the context, the results that Porsch (2010) and freedom roads have published so far are compared with entries in files and encyclopedias, supplemented and sometimes corrected, or an alternative context is given.

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Regarding personal names, the online presence of the Deutsche Biographie [German biography] served as the main source (cf. Historische Kommission bei der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften [Historical Commission at the Bavarian Academy of Sciences], undated), which provides both contemporary biographies and texts from the first half of the 20th century. In addition, various entries can be found in Heinrich Schnee’s Deutsches Kolonial-Lexikon [German colonial lexicon] (1920, resp. 1996a). Alongside numerous notes on colonial actors, it also contains background information on many of the toponyms and terms mentioned above. The objective is to identify both quantitative and qualitative aspects of Bremen street names that are presumed to have colonial contexts. Thereby, the structure and composition of the street names will be investigated and general statements about Bremen street names in colonial contexts will be possible. The analysis is initially based on rather recent research results. Stolz and Warnke published the article Aspekte der kolonialen und postkolonialen Toponymie unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des deutschen Kolonialismus [Aspects of colonial and postcolonial toponymy with special reference to German colonialism] as early as 2015, in which they present their investigations of a large number of toponyms introduced by German colonizers in the former protectorates. The aim of their work is to illustrate two different forms of toponyms, a purely German form on the one hand and a hybrid form, i.e. a toponym that has a non-German constituent, on the other hand (cf. Stolz and Warnke 2015: 107). This distinction can also be applied in a subordinate role in this case, as it can be transferred to some street names (see Appendix: Dualaweg). Endonyms and exonyms each form absolute forms, while a hybrid form combines characteristics of both terms. Stani-Fertl (2001: 17) gives the following definition in the Wiener Schriften zur Geographie und Kartographie [Viennese Writings on geography and cartography]: Endonym: Der Name, der in dem Gebiet verwendet wird, in dem sich das Objekt befindet, ungeachtet der Schrift, in der er geschrieben wird. [Endonym: The name used in the area where the object is located, regardless of the script in which it is written.]

Accordingly, the Bremen street names appear to be pure endonyms. The counterpart of endonyms, the exonyms, describes the names of toponyms used in a particular language which are located outside the area where the language is spoken (cf. Stani-Fertl 2001: 18). An exemplary German exonym is found in the name Venedig for the Italian Venezia. However, Stolz et al. (2016) clarify that the

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term “exonym” includes toponyms introduced by colonizers in claimed areas if they derive from their mother tongue. There are numerous examples of this aspect on the level of street names as well. Among others, there is still a cluster of streets in Windhoek which is based on bird names. The modifiers do not originate from autochthonous languages, but from German (4a), English (4b) and Afrikaans (4c), whereby the latter may be an alloendonym.10 (4) a. b. c.

Exonyms in Namibia Reiher Street (lit. Heron Street) Osprey Street Kelkiewyn Street (lit. Namaqua sandgrouse Street)

Total exonyms are not mentioned further in the present study, as their characteristics do not apply to any of the street names analyzed. Hybrid forms, however, appear sporadically (see Appendix: Togostraße). The analysis of Bremen street names is furthermore based on the category grid mentioned above for the investigation of synchronic and diachronic street name corpora. The explanatory text published by Bering et al. (1999: 136) in the course of a Cologne project verfolgt das Ziel, Kriterien für die Entwicklung eines systematischen Kategorienrasters zur umfassenden – synchronen und diachronen – Erforschung von Straßennamenkorpora zu formulieren und einen allgemein nutzbaren Entwurf vorzulegen. [pursues the goal of formulating criteria for the development of a systematic category grid for the comprehensive – synchronic and diachronic – study of street name corpora and of presenting a generally usable draft.]

The complete category grid presented comprises 4 levels: the basic information, the form analysis, the reference analysis and lastly the semantic analysis. After first developing rough category grids corresponding to the respective historical segments, the research group worked towards the goal of the Entwicklung eines methodischen Instrumentariums zur Analyse diachroner und synchroner StrNkorpora mit der Perspektive vergleichender Studien (Bering et al. 1999: 144) [development of a methodological toolkit for the analysis of diachronic and synchronic street name corpora with the perspective of comparative studies]

|| 10 “These are new coinings in Creole languages which have arisen locally in colonial times (...), i. e., on the one hand, these place-names are the effect of colonization but, on the other hand, they are created in and by speech-communities which are different from that of the colonizers” (see Stolz and Warnke 2018a: 53).

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with the aid of this grid. Bering et al. (1999: 146) indicate that certain basic requirements must be met for the creation of a database for the research of street name corpora. This includes the most detailed information possible on the topographical location of the streets, naming and eradication dates11, the indication of all designations attributed to a given street throughout its history, and information on the etymology and meaning of the street names. According to them, this information is an essential part of historical street name lexica. It should be noted at this point that the lack of fulfilled requirements in street name lexica criticized by Bering et al. (1999) also applies to the Bremer Straßenlexikon (Porsch 2010). For the investigation of street names in the present context, two relevant factors can be identified first: time and reference. The time factor forms the less complex aspect in the analysis of the names. Here, only the time of naming a street is to be determined, so that the probability of a colonial context can be estimated. Noticeably often street names with colonial contexts were given for propaganda purposes not only during the period of German colonialism but by revisionists under the National Socialist regime as well. Therefore, the time periods 1871–1919 and 1933–1945 seem to be the most interesting phases. In the course of the investigation, however, it was discovered that on the one hand, colonial-revisionist motivated designations were already undertaken at the time of the Weimar Republic. On the other hand, up into the second half of the 20th century, names of persons, places and events were used for naming the streets, the contexts of which are to be questioned according to present-day knowledge. This results in three main sections for the analysis of street names: designations during the period of German colonialism, designations after the de facto cession of the German protectorates until the end of the Second World War, and designations performed after 1946.12 The first period includes the period 1871–1883 as preparatory years for colonial activities after the foundation of the German Empire. The aspect of reference represents the more complex factor. It should be examined whether a street name respectively its modifier has a colonial background. On this occasion it should be noted that the classification of the modifiers cannot be divided into purely colonial and non-colonial. This difficulty can have several causes. First, there is no universal definition of what is and what is not colonial in the present topic. An example: Due to Otto von Bismarck’s manifold political

|| 11 Although not explicitly mentioned as informative by Bering et al. (1999), additional renaming data was collected for the Bremen street names, if apparent. 12 The exact creation date of the respective street can be found in the Appendix.

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activities, it can be argued both that a street named after him has a colonial context (he initiated German colonial policy as Reich Chancellor) and that no such context exists (colonial policy was only one aspect of Bismarck’s policy). In addition, colonial street names can include all names that refer to colonial actors, toponyms or terms, but whose designations, on the one hand, are not in a colonial context or were not developed against the background of colonial ideologies, and, on the other hand, were only assigned after the actual end of German colonialism. Examples can be found in the relatively young district HafenCity in Hamburg. Among others, names of famous seafarers can be found, for example in the form of the Magellan-Terrassen. This stepped open space was designed as part of the development of HafenCity and named after the Portuguese explorer Fernão de Magalhães. Although it could be argued that he is responsible – at least in part – for the Spanish Crown’s claim on the Philippine islands (cf. Zaide 1968: 32) and would thus have to be declared a colonial actor, the statement by HafenCity Hamburg GmbH that the terraces and other public paths in the area were nach großen Entdeckern benannt, die symbolisch für die Erkundung weltweiter Handelswege stehen (Magellan-Terrassen, Marco-Polo-Terrassen, Vasco da Gama-Platz) (HafenCity Hamburg GmbH, undated) [named after great explorers who symbolically stand for the exploration of global trade routes (Magellan Terraces, Marco Polo Terraces, Vasco da Gama Square)]

seems entirely plausible. The interpretation that these designations testified to a desire for the revival of colonial activity, however, seemed absurd. On the other hand, modifiers are often difficult to classify in the absence of informative sources. While the modifier of the mentioned example Bismarckstraße can be clearly identified (see Bremer Adreßbuch [Bremen Address Book] 1938: “Bismarckstraße”), the Bennigsenstraße offers at least two potential namesakes.13 In ambiguous cases, the name of the street is marked

|| 13 On the one hand, it could refer to Rudolf von Bennigsen, a national liberal politician of the 19th century (cf. Herzfeld 1955), whom Porsch also cites as the source of the name (cf. Porsch 2010: “Bennigsenstraße”), on the other hand, the street could also have been named after his son of the same name, who was Governor of German New Guinea at the time (cf. Historische Kommission bei der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, undated). To get closer to a correct assignment, the time of naming can serve as an important hint. If the street was named before the colony Deutsch-Neuguinea was founded, it is reasonable to assume that it was named after the father.

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accordingly in order to be identified in the course of a more qualitative investigation. The combination of the described factors time and reference results in six categories: Table 1: Category types based on the factors time and reference.

Designation 1871–1919

1920–1945

1946–present

Context of the modifier is colonial

Type A

Type B

Type C

Context of the modifier is not colonial

Type D

Type E

Type F

It could be argued that type E and type F are not relevant. However, they are used to clarify cases of doubt which cannot be analyzed conclusively.

5 Quantitative and structural analysis Alongside anthroponyms, various other types of names appear as modifiers, including toponyms, ergonyms, and phytonyms. In order to be able to classify the context of these names as colonial, two main questions were formulated: When was the corresponding street named? and Is it possible that the modifier refers to a colonial context? As already described for the personal names, the analysis of the other proper names was also initially limited by the specification of the relevant naming time frame. In this case, however, the focus lies on the period from 1871 onwards, i.e. the time of the foundation of the German Empire, during which German colonial policy reached its peak. This restriction would be lifted in cases where the second question can be answered positively with a near certainty. If the modifier relates to a colonial context, the street name is categorically included in the analysis. An example would be Togostraße ‘Togo Street’, which received its name before the establishment of the German colony of the same name. A conceivable background would be the naming of the street on the initiative of a merchant active in overseas territories, e.g. a Mr. Vietor, who already in 1856 established a branch of the Bremen trading house Friedrich M. Vietor

Street names in colonial contexts | 261

Söhne in Togo (cf. Reed-Anderson 2004) and thus provided the preparatory work for a later establishment of a colony. Even if no official German colonies existed at the time the street was named, this street would have to be the object of analysis, since its context would definitely be colonial. However, this scenario is hypothetical in relation to Bremen14 and serves only as an illustration to dispel uncertainties. The topographical location of a street can also be relevant for the interpretation of the context. One aspect of this is covered by the consideration of a socalled cluster. The term is used to describe the naming of neighboring streets according to a specific theme. If an Adlerstraße ‘Eagle Street’ is located in the vicinity of a Geierstraße ‘Vulture Street’ and a Falkenstraße ‘Falcon Street’, it can be reasonably assumed that it is a cluster naming based on bird names. If, on the other hand, the Adlerstraße is located in an area in which the Iltisstraße ‘Polecat Street’ and the Eberstraße ‘Boar Street’ are situated, the superordinate topic could be animals, but a more detailed investigation (which should be conducted in principle with every find) is unavoidable. Indeed, in this particular case it can be easily recognized – even with little research – that the modifiers in question probably refer to ships of the German Imperial Navy (cf. Gröner 2010: 53f.). The case is more evident if the Adlerstraße is in the immediate vicinity of a Kaiser-WilhelmStraße or a Dualastraße. The proximity of the streets is crucial. On city maps of Hamburg, both Kaiser-Wilhelm-Straße and Adlerstraße are located in the inner city, but the adjacent streets of the Adlerstraße are also named after birds (Wachtelstraße ‘Quail Street’, Pfauenweg ‘Peacock Lane’, Kranichweg ‘Crane Lane’), which leads to the assumption that it is a cluster naming according to the pattern of the first case illustrated above. An actually colonial revisionist motivated cluster naming still exists in the district Bremen-Häfen. In April 1927, Otavistraße, Südweststraße, Waterbergstraße and Karibibstraße (no longer in use) were constructed adjacent to each other. Before that, Windhoekstraße and Togostraße had already been created in the same area.15 In the following the Bremen street names with colonial contexts are presented in tables. As a rule, it is not discussed why they can be classified as colonial street names. The respective context of a street name can be found in the attached alphabetical street name index. Initially, a prototypical pattern for the analysis of the street names is established, which combines the already mentioned constituents classifier and modifier. Based on Stolz and Warnke (2015:

|| 14 The Bremen Togostraße was created and named in 1924/1925 (see StaB, file 3-S.8.b. Togostraße). 15 Togoplatz on the other hand is listed in the Bremer Adreßbuch of 1941 for the first time.

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136), the following construction pattern can be regarded as a prototype for German street names: – [__modifier__classifier]microtoponym As explained above, it can basically be stated that German street names are composed of multiple elements, whereby the right-headed construction can be regarded as prototypical for Bremen street names with colonial contexts. It applies to the record of Bremen street names without exception. Examples in noncolonial contexts show that essentially left-headed constructions do exist.16 It may be assumed, however, that they form a minority and can only be regarded as prototypical by adapting the variables. This would be the case with an analysis of the street names of the German Democratic Republic, which were based on the Russian naming pattern (cf. Heuser 2008: 558). It can thus be summarized that, as stated by Stolz and Warnke (2015: 135) in the field of colonial and postcolonial toponymy, a binary structure represents the default. Heuser (2008: 557) also notes that street names belonging to a younger layer of names usually consist of compounds. Since the classifiers cannot be used to determine whether a street name has a colonial context, the groupings of streets are based on the modifiers and the name classes to which they are assigned. They indicate the naming motivation. The determination of the name classes can be ascribed to the remarks of Brendler and Brendler (2004a) and Nübling et al (2012). An attempt is made to avoid the errors of simplification or overestimation of classification limits described by Brendler (2004c: 86) by applying a rough classification according to Nübling et al. (2012: 100). This approach is intended to achieve a definition as far as necessary without generating “unwirkliche Perfektion” [unreal perfection] (Brendler 2004c: 86). This includes the assignment of personal names to anthroponyms, but not the subclassifications corresponding to Bering et al (1999: 148). They are less relevant in this case but should definitely be examined further in order to identify typical naming characteristics in comparison with analyses of street names of other cities and regions. The analyzed name classes of the modifiers cover six respectively seven defined subclasses of the superordinate term geonyms, whereby the determinants Colonie ‘colony’ and Heimat ‘homeland’ could only be classified as abionyms (cf. Brendler 2004b: 43). This classification is, however, open to criticism, since the

|| 16 Whether left-headed constructions are relevant for the naming of street names with colonial contexts cannot be conclusively clarified at this point. On the basis of the data set of Bremen street names they cannot be examined.

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abionyms, following Brendler’s definition, are to be further subdivided into anthroponyms, zoonyms and phytonyms (Brendler 2004b: 43), but none of these classes seems to be appropriate. The opening of a separate name class for constructs would be conceivable, however, it is questionable whether the term “kataskevasmanym”, following the usual pattern, can prevail in the technical literature. The inclusion of this hypothetical term still results in a numerically verifiable clear tendency to the use of anthroponyms, followed by toponyms and ergonyms (Table 2). Although the phytonyms would have to be named after the ergonyms in terms of numbers and zoonyms do not appear in the present data set, it can be stated that the class of bionyms is more strongly represented overall (Table 2). If the exceptions Colonie and Heimat described above are assigned to the abionyms, about 63% of the 54 modifiers correspond to a class subordinate to the bionyms. Table 2: Modifiers in sub- and superclasses.

Subclass

Number

Anthroponym

32

Ethnonym

1

Phytonym

1

Toponym

14

Ergonym

4

Exceptions

2

Superclass

Total

Bionym

34

Abionym

20

Based on this table, a further parallel to the statements of Stolz and Warnke (2015: 144) can be observed: [d]er numerisch bei weitem überwiegende Fall beruht […] auf einem Konstruktionsmuster, bei dem die linke Leerstelle durch einen Eigennamen (z.B. Personennamen) besetzt wird [[t]he numerically far predominant case [...] is based on a construction pattern in which the left slot is occupied by a proper name (e.g. the name of a person)]

Transferred to the Bremen street names, there is only one example, whose left slot is not exclusively filled by a proper name. The Neue Bismarckstraße ‘New Bismarck Street’ contains an anthroponymic element as well as a congruent adjective attribute as a constituent of the left slot.

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Table 3: Bremen street names with anthroponymic modifiers.

Street Name

Type

Construction Pattern

Andreestraße

A

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Bennigsenstraße

C or F

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Bismarckstraße

A

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Caprivistraße

A

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Columbusstraße

A

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Crüsemannallee

C

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Friedrich-Wilhelm-Straße

A

[{Nfirst name-Nfirst name}name-Ngeographic]toponym

Gerhard-Rohlfs-Straße

A

[{Nfirst name-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym

Germaniastraße

A or D

[Nanthroponym-Ngeographic]toponym

Graf-Waldersee-Straße

A

[{Ntitle-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym

H.-H.-Meier-Allee

C

[{Nfirst name-Nfirst name-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym

Hedwig-Heyl-Straße

C

[{Nfirst name-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym

Kaiser-Friedrich-Straße

A

[{Ntitle-Nfirst name}name]-Ngeographic]toponym

Kaiser-Wilhelm-Platz

A

[{Ntitle-Nfirst name}name]-Ngeographic]toponym

Kaiserstraße

A

[Ntitle-Ngeographic]toponym

Kapitän-Dallmann-Straße

B

[{Ntitle-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym

Kapitän-König-Weg

C or F

[{Ntitle-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym

Karl-Peters-Straße

C

[{Nfirst name-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym

König-Albert-Straße

D

[{Ntitle-Nfirst name}name-Ngeographic]toponym

Kronprinzenstraße

D

[Ntitle-Ngeographic]toponym

Lettow-Vorbeck-Straße

-

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Leutweinplatz

A

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Leutweinstraße

A

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Lüderitzstraße

A

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Nachtigalstraße

A

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Nettelbeckstraße

A

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Neue Bismarckstraße

B

[ADJ Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Otto-Finsch-Straße

C

[{Nfirst name-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym

Stresemannstraße

C

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Vietorstraße

B

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Vogelsangstraße

B

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

Wissmannstraße

A

[Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym

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First of all, it should be repeated that the Lettow-Vorbeck-Straße in Bremen apparently did not exist, which is why a construction pattern was created but no classification was achieved. As the StAB, for obvious reasons, does not possess a corresponding street file, there is no data on the creation of the street necessary for classification. In the absence of the source of this presumed erroneous information, the Lettow-Vorbeck-Straße remains as a component of the table for the time being but is not included in the number-based valuation. This results in a total of 31 street names containing an anthroponymic modifier. Though in 16 cases the names in question provide little information about the person related to the name as only the surname is used, it can be established by appropriate research that in a total of 30 respectively 29 cases the name was assigned by a male. A clear exception is the Hedwig-Heyl-Straße. In the case of the Germaniastraße one could even find arguments against a classification as anthroponym. However, if one follows the argumentation that the street is possibly named after the personified Germania who symbolized growing nationalism in the 19th century (see Brandt 2010: 207; Geulen 2007: 83), a classification of the modifier Germania as feminine anthroponym is legitimate. The reasoning behind the respective classifications according to the types A to F presented above can be found en détail in the list of street names. For the majority of the investigated street names with anthroponymic modifier it can be concluded that the street naming or creation took place between 1871 and 1919 and the context of the modifier can be considered colonial (type A). Cases of doubt – e.g. Bennigsenstraße – result from insufficient sources regarding the motivation for naming the street, but not from uncertainty regarding the time of the construction of a street. Street names that can be assigned to types B and C are likewise obvious, since they complete the class of street names with colonial contexts opened with type A. In the category of anthroponymic modifiers, type C is more prevalent than type B. This suggests that during the more colonial-revisionist period after the conclusion of the Treaty of Versailles and until the end of World War II, apparently fewer Bremen streets were named after colonial actors than in the period after 1945. However, the street names whose naming dates back to the period of colonial revisionism are more clearly to be classified as colonial. This can be deduced from the absence of type E in the classification column. Doubts about whether a name from this period has a colonial context do not exist in relation to any of the streets examined. The background of Bennigsenstraße and Kapitän-König-Straße, however, could not be conclusively clarified. An explanation of why a colonial context can be suspected can also be found in the list of street names in the Appendix.

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As previously mentioned, the construction patterns are exclusively rightheaded. The classifiers are described as Ngeographical following Stolz and Warnke (2015: 136) to emphasize that they are exclusively geo-classifiers. While they state for the level of macro toponymy “dass die Reihenbildung bei den Füllern der Leerstelle der Variable N im kolonialen Kontext sehr ausgeprägt ist” [that the row formation among the fillers of the blank of the variable N is very pronounced in the colonial context], it could already be recognized in the area of Bremen street names that it even meets a quota of 100%. The right slot is predominantly occupied by the classifier Straße. It is not certain whether a modifier prototypically consists of a single- or a multi-word unit. Both the one-word construction, where usually a family name is the modifier, and the use of a multi-word construction are cross-type and therefore cannot be assigned to a specific time period. Constant, on the other hand, is the formation of a hyphenated compound when using a multi-word modifier. The classification of the individual components of a modifier is different. Possible are constructions that contain a title (e.g. captain or king) as well as first names that supplement the family name. The latter can be written out (see Appendix: Otto-Finsch-Straße) or shortened to the initial letter (see Appendix: H.-H.-Meier-Allee). In contrast to the street names in Table 3, the names with toponymic modifiers (Table 4) seem to have a certain classification type. Nine respectively ten of the 14 investigated street names can be assigned to the period of colonial revisionism and, with one exception, a definite colonial context can be determined in each case. Table 4: Bremen street names with toponymic modifiers.

Street Name

Type

Construction Pattern

Bremerhavener Heerstraße

B or E

[Ntoponym Ngeographic]toponym

Bremerhavener Straße

A or D

[Ntoponym Ngeographic]toponym

Hamburger Straße

A

[Ntoponym Ngeographic]toponym

Helgolander Straße

A

[Ntoponym Ngeographic]toponym

Helgolandweg

C

[Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym

Kamerunstraße

B

[Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym

Karibibstraße

B

[Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym

Kribiweg

B

[Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym

Otavistraße

B

[Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym

Südweststraße

B

[Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym

Togoplatz

B

[Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym

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Street Name

Type

Construction Pattern

Togostraße

B

[Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym

Waterbergstraße

B

[Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym

Windhukstraße

B

[Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym

The modifier Bremerhavener is the only one not allowing a clear interpretation. It could be argued that Bremerhaven was founded before colonial times, but with the aim of supporting seafaring and thus expeditions.17 This interpretation would entail a classification of the context as colonial. On the other hand, the designations could also simply be a late tribute to the port, which is important for the Hanseatic City of Bremen, and which coincidentally was only introduced at the time of colonial resp. colonial revisionist activity. The situation is different when analyzing the Hamburger Straße. Of course, it could also be argued that it is a designation that was arbitrarily awarded shortly after the establishment of large German protectorates. At that time, however, Bremen and Hamburg were already looking back on centuries of shared history. It is therefore plausible that there was a certain incentive to choose this date for a dedication in the form of a street name. Based on the discussed common past of the cities, it can be argued that this most likely concerned the colonial activity of the German Empire. However, it is particularly interesting to take a closer look at the other modifiers. The street names classified as type B display completely and exclusively toponyms of the former German colonies in Africa. This can be the name of an entire area (cf. Kamerunstraße) as well as the name of a single oikonym i.e. settlement name (cf. Karibibstraße). This finding strongly supports the evidence collected by Mamzer et al. on colonial revisionist attitudes in Bremen after the cession of the German colonies (cf. Mamzer et al. 2016: 77–100). There is no evidence in Bremen for street names that show a clear connection to the former colonies and were named outside the period 1919 to 1945. The construction patterns vary only insignificantly for the present study. In all 14 cases, the construction is right-headed and the left slot is filled by a one-word modifier. On a structural level, it is noticeable that the street names created during the existence of the German Empire display a genitive construction. While type A street names have a declined toponym in the modifier slot, the use of the unmarked form of a toponym seems to have become common in the decades following the conclusion of the Treaty of Versailles. Hyphenated compounds and

|| 17 From here German soldiers were sent to suppress the Boxer Rebellion; it was here that Emperor Wilhelm II delivered the Hun Speech in 1900 (cf. Klein 2013: 164).

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multi-word modifiers are – in contrast to Table 3 – not to be found in the area of street names with toponymic modifier. The same applies to street names with ergonymic modifiers (Table 5). Table 5: Bremen street names with ergonymic modifiers.

Street Name

Type

Construction Pattern

Koprastraße

A

[Nergonym-Ngeographic]toponym

Lloyd Passage

C

[Nergonym Ngeographic]toponym

Lloydhof

C

[Nergonym-Ngeographic]toponym

Lloydstraße

A

[Nergonym-Ngeographic]toponym

Although a variation of the construction pattern is noticeable, it does not contain a variation in meaning. Similar to the street names with toponymic modifiers, both the construction with a space and the construction without a space between modifier and classifier seem to follow the morphological rules within Table 5, although the latter can be assigned to different time periods. The ergonyms found in Bremen serve only two lexemes (Kopra ‘copra’ and Lloyd) and two classification types (Type A and Type C). In contrast to toponyms, therefore, ergonyms seem to have been of lesser interest, possibly also of lesser significance, in the period after the end of the First World War. Furthermore, the lexem Lloyd is an ergonym, the context of which is debatable. A justification for its classification as a colonial ergonym can be found in the Appendix. Finally, a short list and analysis of the individual cases can be established (Table 6). It regards one ethnonym and one phytonym. Table 6: Exceptional cases in Bremen street name modifiers.

Street Name

Type

Modifier

Construction Pattern

Dualaweg

B

Ethnonym

[Nethnonym-Ngeographic]toponym

Palmenstraße

A oder D

Phytonym

[Nphytonym-Ngeographic]toponym

The classification of the modifier Duala as an ethnonym is based on an addition to the corresponding street name in the Bremer Adreßbuch (1938: “Dualaweg”). There it is stated: “Duala, ein Negerstamm in Kamerun“ [Duala, a black tribe in Cameroon]. The possible classification of the term as a toponym or glottonym was not adopted on the basis of this remark, although according to current city maps it

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appears to be part of a cluster designation that includes the Dualaweg, the Kamerunstraße, the Kribiweg and the Togostraße. It is therefore not entirely ascertainable whether it is actually an ethnonymic modifier or also a toponymic modifier that has been falsely classified as an ethnonym. The context of the Palmenstraße ‘palm tree street’ seems certain in that the palm tree can be assigned to the class of phytonyms. However, it is not certain whether this is a plant that was known to the citizens of the German Empire mainly through overseas possessions. Although palm species are widespread especially in tropical areas, e.g. in the Malay archipelago (cf. Lötschert 1985: 14), publications on palm species introduced in Germany were published decades before the establishment of German protectorates (cf. Seemann and Bolle 1857). On the basis of these two individual cases, too, it can be shown that the right-headed construction is valid throughout all colonial street names in Bremen. Although hapaxes cannot be evaluated representatively for a name class, the overall picture that emerges when considering all analyzed street names suggests that the construction patterns of street names with ethnonymous or phytonymic modifiers are not exceptions or special cases.

6 Conclusions To address the thesis that certain characteristics of the naming of toponyms – in this case micro-toponyms – are specific to colonial contexts, a basic structure of street names was addressed and a prototypical construction pattern created. It can also be noted that, with regard to Bremen street names with colonial contexts, there is significantly less variation within construction patterns at the level of microtoponymy compared to macrotoponyms. While Stolz and Warnke (2015: 136) state that 83% of the colonial toponyms they examined follow the pattern [ __attribute Ngeographic]toponym they identified as prototypical, the prototype modified for the hodo- and dromonyms [__modifier__classifier]microtoponym applies without exception. This means that the colonial street names examined were formed exclusively right-headed. While it was assumed that a multi-word classifier would contradict canonical morphology, the analysis showed that a modifier, on the other hand, may well have several elements (five in the example at hand; see Bischöflich-Geistlicher-Rat-Josef-Zinnbauer-Straße above). However, the employment of a modifier with more than two elements is the exception and can be shortened if appropriate. One example of this is the H.-H.-Meier-Allee in Bremen. The full personal name Hermann Heinrich Meier is not only shortened in the production of street signs but also in the announcement of the correspond-

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ing stop in local public transport vehicles. As far as the prototype is concerned, there is only one exception in the form of the Neue Bismarckstraße – provided that single- and multi-word modifiers are assigned to the same pattern. It holds the only name whose left slot clearly displays an adjective attribute in addition to a proper name. However, this is explained by the two main factors considered in the course of the analysis. The naming occurred during the period of colonial revisionism and was colonially intended. However, since a Bismarckstraße already existed in Bremen at that time, an adjective attribute had to be added to follow the law and avoid double naming. In principle, it can be stated that colonial street names in Bremen are formed of compounds consisting of a modifier and a classifier. However, due to the areal limitation, it is not possible at this point to formulate an adequate answer to the question of colonial toponymic specifics in general. Assuming that the use of appellative modifiers is not excluded, as indicated by the examples Colonie and Heimat, three different modifier-classifier structures can be identified in the analysis of Bremen street names: – – –

Onymic modifier + classifier Appellative modifier + classifier Two-word syntagms that include an adjective attribute (cf. Stolz and Warnke 2015: 142) + classifier

The numerically clearly predominant combination is the combination of an onymic modifier and a classifier. Since it has already been established in Table 2 that the modifiers to be assigned to the anthroponymes are quantitatively predominant, this finding is not surprising and does not require further explanation. Quantitatively predominant are modifiers that include a family name. In the use of personal names, first names have only been increasingly taken into account since the second half of the 20th century, in order to ensure a more precise assignment (cf. Heuser 2008: 558), although the custom of assigning two names instead of one was already established in the late Middle Ages (cf. Stellmacher 1996: 1726). The formation of a street name using a two-word syntagma, however, is an isolated case (cf. Neue Bismarckstraße). For the Bremen street names with ergonymic, ethnonymic and phytonymic modifiers, an informative analysis of the numerically small cases is hardly possible. On the basis of the few representative cases, however, it can be assumed that the prototypical construction is not bound to an anthroponymic or toponymic modifier but has general validity. Including the background information provided in the Appendix, it is noticeable that primarily the colony of Deutsch-Südwestafrika is mentioned when

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referring to a specific protectorate. This applies to the Karibibstraße, Otavistraße, Südweststraße, Waterbergstraße and Windhukstraße. Henning Melber (2013: 70f.) explains this fact as follows: Südwestafrika lebt – ungeachtet der Tatsache, dass seit der Unabhängigkeit am 21. März 1990 das Land als ,Republik Namibia‘ Mitgliedsstaat der Vereinten Nationen ist – in vielen Köpfen und Herzen in Deutschland, Namibia und anderswo weiter. Diese Verbundenheit datiert mittlerweile etwa 130 Jahre zurück, denn mit der offiziellen Proklamation des ,Schutzgebietes Deutsch-Südwestafrika‘ am 7. August 1884, die ihre pseudo-rechtliche Grundlage in den ermogelten privaten Landbesitzungen des Bremer Kaufmanns Adolf Lüderitz (…) hatte, reklamierte das Deutsche Kaiserreich offiziell seinen Platz an der Sonne. [Despite the fact that since independence on 21 March 1990 the country has been a member state of the United Nations as the ‘Republic of Namibia’, South West Africa lives on in many hearts and minds in Germany, Namibia and elsewhere. This connection dates back about 130 years, as with the official proclamation of the ‘Protected Area of DeutschSüdwestafrika’ on August 7th, 1884, which laid its pseudo-legal foundation in the cheated private land holdings of the Bremen merchant Adolf Lüderitz (...), the German Empire officially claimed its Platz an der Sonne.]

While an investigation of the registers of recent maps of the former German protectorates in the course of the seminar Colonial Linguistics at the University of Bremen in the summer semester 2014 (VAK: 10-M82-2-PM-1) revealed that comparatively many German-based exonyms or hybrid forms still existed in the Republic of Namibia (cf. Wolter 2014), a certain upheaval can be observed, most recently in the form of the renaming of 13 streets in Windhoek in November 2019, when, among others, Lüderitz Street was renamed Judge JP Karuaihe Street and Bismarck Street was renamed Simeon Shixungileni Street (cf. Nel 2019). In summary, it can be said that the structure of Bremen street names in colonial contexts could be analyzed uniformly and prototypical patterns identified. On the basis of individual cases of doubt, it was also shown that the definitional boundaries within onomastics and colonial linguistics cannot be drawn unambiguously, as the taxonomy is still in the process of development. Nevertheless, the present analysis constitutes a contribution to the comparative studies of the street names of different cities on a synchronic level as envisaged by Bering et al (1999: 144).

272 | Anna Wolter

Abbreviations ADJ APP CLASS MOD N PREP TOP

adjective appelativum classifier modifier noun preposition toponym

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Schnee, Heinrich. 1996b. Art. “Finsch”. In Heinrich Schnee (ed.), A–G. Deutsches KolonialLexikon. Reprint. [der Ausg.] 625–626. Quelle und Meyer, Leipzig, 1920. Leipzig: Quelle und Meyer. Schnee, Heinrich. 1996c. Art. “Leutwein”. In Heinrich Schnee (ed.), H–O. Deutsches KolonialLexikon. Reprint. [der Ausg.] 452–453. Quelle und Meyer, Leipzig, 1920. Leipzig: Quelle und Meyer. Schnee, Heinrich. 1996d. Art. “Lüderitz”. In Heinrich Schnee (ed.), H–O. Deutsches KolonialLexikon. Reprint. [der Ausg.] 465. Quelle und Meyer, Leipzig, 1920. Leipzig: Quelle und Meyer. Schnee, Heinrich. 1996e. Art. “Nachtigal”. In Heinrich Schnee (ed.), H–O. Deutsches KolonialLexikon. Reprint. [der Ausg.] 612–613. Quelle und Meyer, Leipzig, 1920. Leipzig: Quelle und Meyer. Schneppen, Heinz. 2008. Der Helgoland-Sansibar-Vertrag von 1890. In Ulrich van der Heyden (ed.), Kolonialismus hierzulande. Eine Spurensuche in Deutschland, 185–189. Erfurt: Sutton. Schulz, Matthias & Verena Ebert. 2016. Wissmannstraße, Massaiweg, Berliner Straße. Kolonial intendierte Urbanonyme – Befunde, Perspektiven, Forschungsprogramm. Beiträge zur Namenforschung 51. 357–386. Heidelberg: Winter. Schwarz, Ernst. 1950. Deutsche Namenkunde. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Schwarzwälder, Herbert. 1995a. Geschichte der Freien Hansestadt Bremen, Band 1. Von den Anfängen bis zur Franzosenzeit. Bremen: Röver. Schwarzwälder, Herbert. 1995b. Geschichte der Freien Hansestadt Bremen, Band 2. Von der Franzosenzeit bis zum Ersten Weltkrieg. Bremen: Röver. Seemann, Berthold & Karl Bolle. 1857. Die Palmen. Populäre Naturgeschichte derselben und ihrer Verwandten Nebst einem vollständigen Verzeichniß aller bisher in unsre Gärten eingeführten Arten. Leipzig: Engelmann. Stani-Fertl, Roman. 2001. Exonyme und Kartographie. Weltweites Register deutscher geographischer Namen, klassifizert nach Gebräuchlichkeit, und ihrer ortsüblichen Entsprechungen: Arbeitsmittel für Redakteure. Wien: Institut für Geographie und Regionalforschung der Univ. Wien. Stellmacher, Dieter. 1996. Namen und soziale Identität. Namentraditionen in Familien und Sippen. In Ernst Eichler, Gerold Hilty, Heinrich Löffler, Hugo Steger & Ladislav Zgusta (eds.), Namenforschung/Name Studies/Les noms propres. Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik/An International Handbook of Onomastics/Manuel international d‘onomastique, 1726–1730. Berlin & New York: De Gruyter. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2015. Aspekte der kolonialen und postkolonialen Toponymie unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des deutschen Kolonialismus. In Daniel SchmidtBrücken, Susanne Schuster, Thomas Stolz, Ingo H. Warnke & Marina Wienberg (eds.), Koloniallinguistik. Sprache in kolonialen Kontexten, 107–176. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2018a. Comparative colonial toponomastics – Evidence from German and Dutch colonial place names. In Rita Heuser & Miriam Schmuck (eds.), Sonstige Namenarten – Stiefkinder der Onomastik, 45–68. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Stolz, Thomas & Ingo H. Warnke. 2018b. System- und diskurslinguistische Einblicke in die vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Eine gemeinsame Einführung. In Thomas Stolz & Ingo H. Warnke (eds.), Vergleichende Kolonialtoponomastik. Strukturen und Funktionen kolonialer Ortsbenennung, 1–75. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton.

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Stolz, Thomas, Christina Vossmann & Barbara Dewein. 2011. Kolonialzeitliche Sprachforschung und das Forschungsprogramm Koloniallinguistik: eine kurze Einführung. In Thomas Stolz Christina Vossmann, & Barbara Dewein (eds.), Kolonialzeitliche Sprachforschung. Die Beschreibung afrikanischer und ozeanischer Sprachen zur Zeit der deutschen Kolonialherrschaft, 7–29. Berlin: Akademie Verlag. Stolz, Thomas, Ingo H. Warnke & Nataliya Levkovych. 2016. Colonial place names in a comparative perspective. Beiträge zur Namenforschung 51. 279–355. Thiel, Reinhold. 2002. Die Geschichte des Norddeutschen Lloyd 1857–1970. Band II: 1884–1899. Bremen: Hauschild. Volckmann, Erwin. 1919. Straßennamen und Städtetum. Beitrage zur Kulturgeschichte und Wortstammkunde aus alten dt. Städten. Würzburg: Memminger. Waldersee, Alfred von & Heinrich Otto Meisner. 1923. 1900–1904. In Alfred von Waldersee & Heinrich Otto Meisner, Denkwürdigkeiten des General-Feldmarschalls Alfred Grafen von Waldersee. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt. Walther, Hans. 1985. Leipzig – Werden und Wachsen der Stadt im Lichte ihrer Namen. In Ernst Eichler, Hans Walther & Inge Bily (eds.), Beiträge zur Onomastik I. Vorträge der Teilnehmer aus der DDR auf dem XV. Internationalen Kongreß für Namenforschung. Berlin: Akademie der Wissenschaften der DDR, Zentralinstitut für Sprachwissenschaft. Wania, Hubert. 1906. Dreissig Jahre Bremen, 1876–1905. Chronologisches Verzeichnis aller denkwürdigen Ereignisse. Bremen: Schünemann. Warnke, Ingo H., Thomas Stolz & Daniel Schmidt-Brücken. 2016. Perspektiven der Postcolonial Language Studies. In Thomas Stolz, Ingo H. Warnke & Daniel Schmidt-Brücken (eds.), Sprache und Kolonialismus. Eine interdisziplinäre Einführung zu Sprache und Kommunikation in kolonialen Kontexten, 1–25. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Wendt, Reinhard. 2013. Die Südsee. In Jürgen Zimmerer (ed.), Kein Platz an der Sonne. Erinnerungsorte der deutschen Kolonialgeschichte, 41–55. Frankfurt: Campus Verlag. Werner, Marion. 2008. Vom Adolf-Hitler-Platz zum Ebertplatz. Eine Kulturgeschichte der Kölner Straßennamen seit 1933. Köln & Weimar: Böhlau. Winkelmann, Helmut. 1984. Das Recht der öffentlich-rechtlichen Namen und Bezeichnungen. Insbesondere der Gemeinden, Straßen und Schulen. Neue Schriften des Deutschen Städtetages, 51. Köln: Kohlhammer. Zaide, Gregorio F. 1968. The Philippine revolution. Manila: Modern Book Company. Zech, Julius Graf von. 1996. Art. “Togo”. In Heinrich Schnee (ed.), P–Z. Deutsches KolonialLexikon. Reprint. [der Ausg.] 497–526. Quelle und Meyer, Leipzig, 1920. Leipzig: Quelle und Meyer. Zimmerer, Jürgen. 2013. Kolonialismus und kollektive Identität. In Jürgen Zimmerer (ed.), Kein Platz an der Sonne. Erinnerungsorte der deutschen Kolonialgeschichte, 9–38. Frankfurt: Campus Verlag. Zwicker, Stefan. 2006. „Nationale Märtyrer“: Albert Leo Schlageter und Julius Fučík. Heldenkult, Propaganda und Erinnerungskultur. Paderborn: Schöningh.

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Internet Sources Berlin Postkolonial e.V./HMJokinen. Undated. willkommen, [checked 12/02/20]. Bremer Adreßbuch. Adreßbuch der Freien Hansestadt Bremen des Landgebiets und Vegesacks nebst Firmenverzeichnis von Bremerhaven. 1925. [checked 08/04/20]. Bremer Adreßbuch. Adreßbuch der Freien Hansestadt Bremen Vegesacks und des Landgebiets. 1938. [checked 08/04/20]. Bremer Adreßbuch. Adreßbuch der Freien Hansestadt Bremen, Bremerhaven und des Landgebiets. 1941. [checked 08/04/20]. Bremer Adreßbuch. Adreßbuch der Freien Hansestadt Bremen, Bremerhaven und des Landgebiets. 1942. < https://brema.suub.uni-bremen.de/periodical/pageview/733913> [checked 08/04/20]. Bruns, Karin. 2001. Peters, Carl, [checked 08/04/20]. Die Senatorin für Finanzen. 2016. Bremisches Landesstraßengesetzt (BremLStrG), [checked 12/02/20]. During, Rainer W. 2014. Straßennamen in Berlin. Jeder Bezirk regelt die Namensfrage anders, [checked 12/02/20]. freedom roads. Undated. willkommen, [checked 12/02/20]. Gerling, Anne. 2010. „Karl-Peters-Straße“ bleibt, [checked 12/02/20]. Gründer, Horst. 1985. Lettow-Vorbeck, Paul von, [checked 08/04/20]. Gründer, Horst. 1987. Lüderitz, Adolf, [checked 08/04/20]. HafenCity Hamburg GmbH. Undated. Wie kommen die Straßen zu ihren Namen?, [checked 12/02/20]. Herzfeld, Hans. 1955. Bennigsen, Rudolf von, [checked 08/04/20]. Herzog, Bodo. 1979. König, Paul, [checked 08/04/20]. Historische Kommission bei der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Undated. Deutsche Biographie, < https://www.deutsche-biographie.de> [checked 12/02/20]. Kachulle, Doris. 1992. „Verschicke nur geeignetes Mädchenmaterial“, [checked 08/04/20]. Kolb, Eberhard. 2013. Stresemann, Gustav, [checked 08/04/20]. Lenz, Max. 1902. Bismarck, Otto Fürst von, [checked 08/04/20].

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Morlang, Thomas. 2005. „Finde ich keinen Weg, so bahne ich mir einen.“ Der umstrittene ‚Kolonialheld‘ Hermann von Wissmann, [checked 08/04/20]. Müller, Gerhard H. 2003. Rohlfs, Gerhard, [checked 08/04/20]. Nel, Yolanda. 2019. City changes 13 street names. [checked 12/02/20]. Reed-Anderson, Paulette. 2004. Chronologie zur deutschen Kolonialgeschichte,

[checked 12/02/20]. Stolberg-Wernigerode, Otto Graf zu. 1955. Bismarck, Otto Fürst von, < https://www.deutsche-biographie.de/pnd11851136X.html#ndbcontent > [checked 08/04/20]. Ulrich, Bernd. 2012. Außenpolitik und Imperialismus, [checked 08/04/20].

Other references Wolter, Anna. 2014. German-based toponyms of former German colonies in Africa. Poster presentation at the Second Bremen Conference on Language and Literature in Colonial and Postcolonial Contexts. Bremen: University of Bremen.

Files of the State Archives of Bremen (StAB) 2-P.4.o.2.b.31 (Andreestraße) 2-P.4.o.2.b.68 (Bismarckstraße) 2-P.4.o.2.b.83 (Bremerhavener Straße) 2-P.4.o.2.b.99 (Columbusstraße) 2-p.4.o.2.b.132 (Kamerunstraße) 2-P.4.o.2.b.146 (Friedrich-Wilhelm-Straße) 2-P.4.o.2.b.156 (Gerhard-Rohlfs-Straße) 2-P.4.o.2.b.158 (Germaniastraße) 2-P.4.o.2.b.185 (Hamburger Straße) 2-P.4.o.2.b.195 (Heimatstraße) 2-P.4.o.2.b.287 (Lloydstraße) 2-P.4.2.o.b.327 (Nachtigalstraße) 2-P.4.o.2.b.356 (Palmenstraße) 3-S.8.b.Breslauer Straße 3-S.8.b.Franco-Allee 3-S.8.b.Graf-Waldersee-Straße 3-S.8.b.Hedwig-Heyl-Straße 3-S.8.b.Helgolander Straße 3-S.8.b.Kaiserstraße 3-S.8.b.Kaiser-Friedrich-Straße

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3-S.8.b.Karibibstraße 3-S.8.b.König-Albert-Straße 3-S.8.b.Koprastraße 3-S.8.b.Kronprinzenstraße 3-S.8.b.Leutweinplatz 3-S.8.b.Leutweinstraße 3-S.8.b.Lloydstraße 3-S.8.b.Lüderitzstraße 3-S.8.b.Nettelbeckstraße 3-S.8.b.Otawistraße 3-S.8.b.Schlageterstraße 3-S.8.b.Südweststraße 3-S.8.b.Togoplatz 3-S.8.b.Togostraße 3-S.8.b.Unser Lieben Frauen 3-S.8.b.Vietorstraße 3-S.8.b.Vogelsangstraße 3-S.8.b.Waterbergstraße 3-S.8.b.Windhukstraße 3-S.8.b.Wissmannstraße 4, 135/2-63 9, S 0-3367

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Appendix: Alphabetical index of colonial streets in the Hanseatic City of Bremen Andreestraße (–) Status: in use Creation: 1901 (previous name: Coloniestraße) Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Karl Andree (*1808; †1875) was known as a specialist for geography and ethnology. In 1862 he founded the magazine „Globus – Illustrirte [sic] Zeitschrift für Länder- und Völkerkunde” [Globus – Illustrated magazine for geography and ethnology]. His son Richard Andree (*1835; †1912) specialized in similar fields and took over the editorial office of Globus in 1891 (cf. Banse 1933: “Andree”). Bennigsenstraße (no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: 1955/56 Classification: Type B or Type E Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Concerns either Rudolf von Bennigsen (*1824; †1902), a nationalliberal politician, parliamentarian and Prussian chief president of Hanover (cf. Herzfeld 1955: 50–52), or Rudolf von Bennigsen (*1859; †1912), governor of New Guinea (cf. https://www.deutsche-biographie.de/sfz3747.html). Due to the location it seems more probable to concern the national liberal politician. However, the actions of the colonial actor of the same name are too serious to ignore a potential name sponsorship. Bismarckstraße (StAB, file 2-P.4.o.2.b.68) Status: in use Creation: ca. June 1872 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Max Lenz (1902) describes Bismarck as a strong supporter of German colonial politics, who defied the opposition and advocated “coloniale Aben-

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teuer” [colonial adventures] (cf. Lenz 1902). More recent sources, on the other hand, describe that he initiated colonial policy “nur ungern” [reluctantly] (cf. Stolberg-Wernigerode 1955: 268–277). His classification as a colonial actor is indisputable. Bremerhavener Heerstraße (no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: 1940/41 Classification: Type B or Type E Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Bremerhaven was founded well before the era of German colonialism, but with the aim of supporting seafaring and expeditions. From here German soldiers were sent to suppress the Boxer Uprising; here Emperor Wilhelm II delivered the Hun speech in 1900 (cf. Klein 2013: 164). Bremerhavener Straße (StAB, file 2-P.4.o.2.b.83) Status: in use Creation: 18 April 1893 Classification: Type A or Type D Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: see “Bremerhavener Heerstraße” Caprivistraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Franco Allee) Status: not in use (1939 renamed Legion-Condor-Straße) Creation: 1899/1900 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Leo Graf von Caprivi (*1831; †1899) was, inter alia, Chancellor of the German Empire as Bismarck’s successor. During his term in office, “trat das imperialistische Weltmachtstreben auch in Deutschland bald immer deutlicher in den Vordergrund” [the imperialist pursuit of world power soon came to the fore in Germany as well] (cf. Ulrich 2012). Coloniestraße (StAB, file 2-P.4.o.2.b.31) Status: not in use (1901 renamed Andreestraße) Creation: 8 August 1899

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Classification: Type A Modifier: vague (roughly: Abionym, following Naumann, Brendler and Brendler 2011: 43) Construction pattern: [Nundefined-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Created during the period of German colonialism, the reference appears obvious at first. The corresponding street file, however, indicates that the street was renamed because potential local residents were disturbed by the association with penal colonies, workers colonies, etc. (cf. StAB, file 2P.4.o.2.b.31). Columbusstraße (StAB, file 2-P.4.o.2.b.99) Status: in use Creation: 1. November 1898 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Christophorus Columbus (name Latinized) was an explorer and colonist on behalf of the Crown of Castile. At the end of the 15th century he founded the first colonies in the Caribbean in the name of the Crown (cf. Kohler 2006: 167–168.). Crüsemannallee (no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: 1956/57 Classification: Type B Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Conrad Carl Eduard Crüsemann (*1826; †1869) was co-founder of the shipping company Norddeutscher Lloyd, which provided several ships for the transport of troops in the course of the Boxer Uprising (cf. Wania 1906: 208). Dualaweg (no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: 1936/37 Classification: Type B Modifier: Ethnonym Construction pattern: [Nethnonym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: The Bremer Adreßbuch (1938: “Dualaweg”) contains the following description: “Duala, ein Negerstamm in Kamerun” [Duala, a Negro tribe in Cameroon]. This addition forms the basis of argumentation for a classification

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as an ethnonym. In a further way, the term refers to a place in Cameroon where it formed the “main place of the colony of Cameroon” (cf. Meinhof 1996: “Duala”). Friedrich-Wilhelm-Straße (StAB, file 2-P.4.o.2.b.146) Status: in use Creation: 9 March 1897 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [{Nfirst name-Nfirst name}name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: According to the Bremer Adreßbuch (1938: “Friedrich-WilhelmStraße”), the street was named after the German Crown Prince, later Emperor Friedrich III. Although his political views tend to be attributed to the left-liberal camp, he apparently did not share its opposition to Germany’s colonial expansion: “Seine generell positive Haltung dazu, die er bereits vor Beginn der bismarckschen Kolonialpolitik bekundete, deckte sich in diesem Fall mit der des kolonialistischen Flügels der Nationalliberalen” [His generally positive attitude to this, which he had already expressed before the beginning of Bismarck’s colonial policy, in this case coincided with that of the colonialist wing of the national liberals] (cf. Müller 2013: 113). Gerhard-Rohlfs-Straße (StAB, file 2-P.4.o.2.b.156) Status: not in use/in use18 Creation: 13 April 1901 until 25 March 1904 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [{Nfirst name-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Gerhard Rohlfs (*1831; †1896) from Bremen published several travel reports (among others through the sponsorship of August Petermann; cf. Müller 2003: 767–768) describing his expeditions in Africa. According to the latest findings of Günther Bolte, gained from a review of the Rohlfs estate, he was not a trained physician and did not claim to be so. However, it seems undisputed that in 1884 he was “mit weitgehenden Vollmachten ausgestattet, zum dt.

|| 18 In 1954 the Gerhard-Rohlfs-Straße in the Bremen district of Walle was renamed Karl-PetersStraße; to this day, however, the Gerhard-Rohlfs-Straße in Bremen-Vegesack still exists. Since it is located in the immediate vicinity of the Gerhard-Rohlfs secondary school, which in turn is named after the person known as an Africanist, the same naming motif seems obvious. However, the mentioned file refers to the no longer existing Gerhard-Rohlfs-Straße in Walle.

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Generalkonsul in Sansibar ernannt, aber bereits 1885 wegen mangelnder diplomatischer Eignung wieder abberufen” [endowed with extensive powers of attorney, appointed German Consul General in Zanzibar, but recalled in 1885 due to lack of diplomatic aptitude] (cf. Müller 2003: 767–768). Germaniastraße (StAB, file 2-P.4.o.2.b.158) Status: not in use Creation: 19 August 1895 until 8 February 1896 Classification: Type A or Type D Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfirst name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: The street is possibly named after the personified Germania, who symbolized the growing nationalism in the 19th century (cf. Brandt 2010: 207). A colonial context can neither be clearly proven nor refuted. Graf-Waldersee-Straße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Graf-Waldersee-Straße) Status: in use Creation: ca. January 1906 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [{Ntitle-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Alfred Graf von Waldersee (*1832; †1904) led the supreme command in the defeat of the Boxer Uprising (cf. Waldersee and Meisner 1923) and is responsible for “Verwüstungen und Massaker” [destructions and massacres] (cf. Lü 2013: 225) in Tsingtau. H.-H.-Meier-Allee (no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: 1955/56 Classification: Type B Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [{Nfirst name-Nfirst name -Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Hermann Heinrich Meier (*1809; †1898) founded the Bremen shipping company Norddeutscher Lloyd in 1857 together with E. Crüsemann (see Appendix: Crüsemannallee). The shipping company became the most important institution for overseas emigration.

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Hamburger Straße (StAB, file 2-P-4-o-2-b-185) Status: in use Creation: 1891 Classification: Type A Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: The Hanseatic cities of Hamburg and Bremen share a common history that goes back a long way. Among other things, the two cities played a decisive role in promoting the expansion of shipping and trade, which also enabled the expeditions of alleged researchers. In several cases these expeditions led to the conclusion of so-called protection treaties and thus to the establishment of colonies. Well-known Hamburg shipping companies that supported the colonial activity are: the Woermann Line, the Hamburg-Bremer Afrika-Linie AG or the Hamburg-Amerikanische Packetfahrt-Actien-Gesellschaft (HAPAG). Hedwig-Heyl-Straße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Hedwig-Heyl-Straße) Status: in use Creation: 1956/57 Classification: Type B Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [{Nfirst name-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: The Bremen-born Hedwig Heyl (*1850; †1934), née Crüsemann, daughter of the first director of Norddeutscher Lloyd, is known today primarily as a womenʼs rights activist. Her support for colonialism and later National Socialism is rarely discussed. As an article in the taz.die tageszeitung (cf. Kachulle 1992: 35) notes, she was the founder of the Deutsch-Kolonialer Frauenbund [German Colonial Women’s Association] in Berlin in 1907 and held its chair for ten years. She considered it her task to send “geeignetes Mädchenmaterial” [suitable girls’ material] to the German colonies, since in her opinion only marriage between colonists of German origin could guarantee the preservation of the colonies (cf. Holzmann 2016: 61–62). After the de facto end of German colonialism she handed over the chairmanship of the Frauenbund to Hedwig von Bredow, but supported colonial revisionist protests which demanded the return of the colonial territories (cf. Kachulle 1992: 35). Two gifts that Heyl was to receive on her 80th birthday in 1930 are also worth mentioning. On the one hand, the Bremen Senate decided to name a street after her, although the President Mayor Donandt pointed out that naming a street after living persons was unusual (cf. StAB, File 3-S.8.b. Karl-Peters-Straße/OttilieHoffmann-Straße). On the other hand, a household school financed by

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donations was to be founded in South West Africa in the same year (cf. Kachulle 1992: 35). Heimatstraße (StAB, file 2-P.4.o.2.b.195) Status: in use Creation: 4 April 1888 Classification: Type A Modifier: vague (Abionym) Construction pattern: [Nundefined-Ngeographic]toponym Context: The term Heimat [homeland] can be regarded as the counterpart of the foreign. The significance of the homeland was increased above all by the expansion of the foreign, e.g. the acquisition of protectorates and the deployment of German colonists. A few verses that accompanied the christening of the Bremen ship in Shanghai in 1899 are representative here: Den Namen Bremen, den trauten Klang, / Führ ihn in Ehren, führe ihn lang. / Wecke der Heimath tröstend Gedenken / In denen, die zagend die Schritte lenken / Ins Unbekannte! / Und sei Prophet von kommendem Glück / Für die, so beseligt kehren zurück / Zum Heimathlande! (cf. Thiel 2002: 176) [The name Bremen, the familiar sound, / lead it in honour, lead it long. / Awaken the homeland comforting remembrance / in those who guide the footsteps with hesitation / into the unknown! / And be a prophet of happiness to come / for those who return / so blessed to]

Helgolander Straße (from 1903: StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Helgolander Straße, prior to 1903: no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: ca. 1901 Classification: Type A Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Although Helgoland was not exchanged for Zanzibar, as is sometimes mistakenly assumed by the term Helgoland-Sansibar-Vertrag [Heligoland-Zanzibar Treaty], both territories are the subject of the “Vertrag zwischen dem Deutschen Reich und dem Vereinigten Königreich über die Kolonien und Helgoland vom 1. Juli 1890” [Treaty between the German Reich and the United Kingdom on the Colonies and Heligoland of July 1st, 1890] (cf. Schneppen 2008: 185–189). Birken (1974: 199) states: “Er [Robert Salisbury] schlug die Abtretung Helgolands als Kompensation für die Errichtung des britischen Protektorats über Sansibar vor.” [He [Robert Salisbury] proposed the cession of Helgoland as compensation for the establishment of the British Protectorate over Zanzibar].

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Helgolandweg (no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: after 1957 Classification: Type B Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: see Helgolander Straße Kaiser-Friedrich-Straße (StAB, File 3-S.8.b.Kaiser-Friedrich-Straße) Status: not in use (renamed on 17 Mai 1947) Creation: 1899/1900 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [{Ntitle-Npersonenname}name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: see Friedrich-Wilhelm-Straße Kaiser-Wilhelm-Platz (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Unser Lieben Frauen) Status: not in use Creation: 1890/91 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [{Ntitle-Nfirst name}name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Wilhelm I. (*1797; † March 9, 1888) was, inter alia, the first emperor of the German Reich. During his term of office numerous German colonies were developed. Kaiserstraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Kaiserstraße) Status: not in use (renamed on 5 Januar 1938) Creation: 1872/73 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Ntitle-Ngeographic]toponym Context: see Kaiser-Wilhelm-Straße In this case, however, the presumption cannot be substantiated. By including Kaiserstraße in the data set, the colonial potential of the modifier shall be illustrated. Kamerunstraße (StAB, file 2-P.4.o.2.b.132) Status: in use Creation: ca. March 1925

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Classification: Type B Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: According to the Bremer Adreßbuch (1938: “Kamerunstraße”), the street is dedicated to the former German colony of the same name. Kapitän-Dallmann-Straße (StAB, files 9, S 0-3367 and StAB, 4, 135/2-63) Status: in use Creation: 1940/41 Classification: Type B Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [{Ntitle-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Dallmann (*1830; †1896) was captain of the “SAMOA” from 1884 to 1886. He accompanied Otto Finsch on his journey to New Guinea and thus enabled the expedition which was to establish the German protectorates in Oceania (cf. Pawlik 1996: 101–103). He was also a friend of Rohlfs and “discovered” 18 areas in the Pacific, 10 of which were named after him (Bremen newspaper article from 1958, StAB, file 9, S 0-3367). Kapitän-König-Weg (no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: 1955/56 Classification: Type B or Type E Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [{Ntitle-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Paul König (*1867; †1933) worked for the Norddeutscher Lloyd from 1896 to 1914, since 1911 as captain on the ships “WITTENBERG”, “SKUTARI”, “TÜBINGEN”, “PRINCESS IRENE” and “SCHLESWIG” (cf. Herzog 1979: 347– 348). Whether there is a clear connection to German colonialism could not be conclusively clarified. Karibibstraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Karibibstraße) Status: not in use Creation: ca. April 1927 Classification: Type B Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: According to Dove (1996: “Karibib”) it is a “[wichtiger] Ort DeutschSüdwestafrikas (…). Außerdem ist es Mittelpunkt des gleichnamigen Verwaltungsbezirks” [important place of German South West Africa (...). It is also the centre of the administrative district of the same name].

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Karl-Peters-Straße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Breslauer Straße) Status: in use/redesignated19 Creation: 1954 (1905–1954: Breslauerstraße) Classification: Type B Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [{Nfirst name-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Carl Peters (*1856; †1918) concluded protectorate treaties on behalf of the Deutsch-Ostafrikanischen Gesellschaft [German East Africa Company], which formed the basis for the establishment of the colony of Deutsch-Ostafrika from 1885 onwards. In 1891 he became Imperial Commissioner of Deutsch-Ostafrika, but was dismissed in 1897 (cf. Bruns 2001: 239–240). Bruns (ibid.) adds: “Seine grausame Amtsführung und die willkürliche Anwendung der Todesstrafe wurde 1895 vom Reichstag scharf kritisiert und führte 1897 nach einem Disziplinarverfahren zu seiner Entlassung aus dem Staatsdienst” [His cruel conduct in office and the arbitrary application of the death penalty was sharply criticized by the Reichstag in 1895 and led to his dismissal from the civil service in 1897 after disciplinary proceedings]. König-Albert-Straße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.König-Albert-Straße) Status: not in use Creation: 1900/01 Classification: Type D20 Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [{Ntitle-Nfirst name}name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Albert of Saxony (*1828; †1902) was Saxon king and a “bedeutender Heerführer im deutsch-französischen Krieg” [important military leader in the Franco-German War] (Bremer Adreßbuch 1938: “König-Albertstraße”). To what extent he can be counted among the colonial actors has not been conclusively clarified. However, roads named after him also existed in German protectorates, e.g. on the island of Buka (cf. Schnee 1996: “Albert”). || 19 Although the Senator of the Interior, Ulrich Mäurer, had agreed to a free change of personal documents and a letter to the local residents clearly explained that Carl Peters, as colonial ruler, “Einwohner des damaligen Deutsch-Ostafrika in übelster Form behandelt [hat] und den Ruf eines ausgeprägten Rassisten [genoss]” [had treated the inhabitants of former DeutschOstafrika in the worst manner and enjoyed the reputation of being a pronounced racist] (cf. Gerling 2010), only a rededication was performed in favor of the criminal law reformer Karl Peters (cf. Gerling 2010). 20 The ship of the deep-sea fleet named after King Albert, which was sent to Cameroon and Deutsch-Südwestafrika, among other places, was not yet built at the time of the naming of the road and is therefore not considered as a namesake. (cf. Hildebrand et al. 1981: 27)

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Koprastraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Koprastraße) Status: not in use Creation: 23 May 1916 Classification: Type A Modifier: Ergonym Construction pattern: [Nergonym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: The Bremer Adreßbuch (1925: “Koprastraße”) explains: “Kopra ist ein Rohprodukt zur Margarinefabrikation” [Kopra is a raw product for the production of margarine]. Busse (1996: “Kokospalme”) adds: “Die Kultur der Kokospalme bildet das Rückgrat der Wirtschaft in den Schutzgebieten der Südsee (…)” [The culture of the coconut palm forms the backbone of the economy in the protected areas of the Pacific]. Kribiweg (no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: 1936/37 Classification: Type B Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Kribi formed the district capital of the German colony of Cameroon (cf. Bremer Adreßbuch 1938: “Kribiweg”). Kronprinzenstraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Kronprinzenstraße) Status: not in use Creation: 9 April 1907 Classification: Type E Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Ntitle-Ngeographic]toponym Context: The street is probably named after Wilhelm of Prussia (*1882; †1951), son of Wilhelm II, and crown prince of the German Reich and Prussia. Lettow-Vorbeck-Straße (no file in the StAB)21 Status: not in use Creation: − Classification: −

|| 21 Lettow-Vorbeck-Straße is listed both in the course of the exhibition ‘freedom roads’ and in specialist literature (cf. Schulz and Ebert 2016: 370) as a street that once existed in Bremen. No proof of this could be provided.

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Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck (*1870; †1964) was a colonial officer (cf. Gründer 1985: 358–359). He first participated in the suppression of the Boxer Uprising and the Herero (cf. Michels 2013: 278–279). Zimmerer (2013: 30) adds: “Auch das menschenverachtende Vorgehen Paul von Lettow-Vorbecks bei der ,Verteidigung‘ Ostafrikas im Ersten Weltkrieg gehört in diesen Kontext. [Er] führte (…) vier Jahre einen Abnutzungskrieg, in dessen Folge allein in Ostafrika 700.000 Menschen, zum größten Teil Zivilisten, ums Leben kamen” [Paul von Lettow-Vorbeckʼs inhuman approach to the ‘defence’ of East Africa in the First World War also belongs in this context. [He] waged (...) a war of attrition for four years, as a result of which 700,000 people, most of them civilians, died in East Africa alone]. Leutweinplatz (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Leutweinplatz) Status: in use Creation: 14 April 1914 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Theodor Leutwein (*1848; †1921) was a colonial official in DeutschSüdwestafrika, where he led military campaigns against Hereros among other things (cf. Schnee 1996c: “Leutwein”). Leutweinstraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Leutweinstraße) Status: in use Creation: 14 April 1914 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: see Leutweinplatz Lloyd Passage (no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: after 1957 Classification: Type B Modifier: Ergonym Construction pattern: [Nergonym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Several street names in Bremen are dedicated to the Bremen shipping

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company Norddeutscher Lloyd (see Lloydhof, Lloydstraße). Founded in 1857 by H. H. Meier and E. Crüsemann (cf. H.-H.-Meier-Allee, or Crüsemannallee), it provided several steamers in July 1900 to send troops of the East Asian expeditionary corps to suppress the Boxer Uprising. The departure of the ships in Bremerhaven was accompanied by the Hun Speech of Emperor Wilhelm II (cf. Wania 1906: 209–210). Lloydhof (no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: after 1957 Classification: Type B Modifier: Ergonym Construction pattern: [Nergonym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: see Lloyd Passage Lloydstraße (until 1900: StAB, file 2-P.4.o.2.b.287; then: StAB, file 3-S.8.b. Lloydstraße) Status: in use Creation: ca. November 1900 Classification: Type A Modifier: Ergonym Construction pattern: [Nergonym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: see Lloyd Passage Lüderitzstraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Lüderitzstraße) Status: in use (included in the Hafenstraße after 1945; name reassigned) Creation: 1914/15 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Adolf Lüderitz (*1834; †1886) is considered a colonial pioneer (Gründer 1987: 452–453). In 1881 he founded a factory in Lagos, then under English rule. Later he acquired the bay of Angra Pequena through his deputy Vogelsang, which received the name Lüderitzbucht, and the surrounding area. A few months later he acquired further areas, which received the name Lüderitzland. In 1885 he sold his land and it became the property of the Deutsche Kolonialgesellschaft für Südwestafrika [German Colonial Society for South West Africa]. In 1886 he drowned (cf. Schnee 1996d: “Lüderitz”).

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Nachtigalstraße (StAB, file 2-P.4.2.o.b.327) Status: in use Creation: 10 December 1901 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Gustav Nachtigal (*1834; †1885) is described by Banse (1933: “Nachtigal”) as “Deutschlands größter Afrikaner” [Germany’s greatest African] and is responsible for the development of protectorates in the area which later became Deutsch-Südwestafrika. Schnee (1996e: “Nachtigal”) adds: “1884 wurde er durch den Kreuzer ,MÖVE‘ abgeholt, um die Besitzergreifung von Togo, Kamerun und Deutsch-Südwestafrika vorzunehmen, welcher Aufgabe er sich mit großer Gewissenhaftigkeit und Energie unterzog” [In 1884 he was picked up by the cruiser MÖVE in order to take possession of Togo, Cameroon and DeutschSüdwestafrika, a task to which he subjected himself with great conscientiousness and energy]. Nettelbeckstraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Nettelbeckstraße) Status: in use Creation: 22 January 1904 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Joachim Nettelbeck (*1738; †1824) died before the foundation of the German Empire, but participated in Dutch colonialism by working on slave ships and travelling to colonies (cf. Nettelbeck 1910: 16/22). Neue Bismarckstraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Schlageterstraße22) Status: not in use (1933 renamed Schlageterstraße) Creation: ca. October 1929 Classification: Type B Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [ADJ Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: see Bismarckstraße

|| 22 Probably named after Albert Leo Schlageter, who was among others “stilisiert und zu Propagandazwecken missbraucht” [stylized and misused for propaganda purposes] by National Socialists (cf. Zwicker 2006: 87).

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Otavistraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Otawistraße) Status: in use Creation: ca. April 1927 Classification: Type B Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Dove (1996: “Otavi”) describes: “Ein durch seine Kupfererzlager berühmter Platz im äußersten Norden des Hererolandes (Deutsch-Südwestafrika)” [A place famous for its copper ore deposits in the far north of Hereroland (Deutsch-Südwestafrika)]. Otto-Finsch-Straße (no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: 1954/55 Classification: Type B Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [{Nfirst name-Nfamily name}name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Otto Finsch (*1839; †1917), accompanied by Captain Dallmann, led expeditions in the Pacific region “wo wichtige Studien, Sammlungen und Entdeckungen gemacht und der politischen wie wirtschaftlichen Besitzergreifung durch das Reich und die Neuguinea-Kompagnie [...] erfolgreich vorgearbeitet wurde” [where important studies, collections and discoveries were made and the political and economic occupation by the Empire and the New Guinea Company [...] was successfully prepared] (Schnee 1996b: “Finsch”). To this day, the town of Finschhafen in Papua New Guniea bears witness to these alleged expeditions (cf. Wendt 2013: 51). Palmenstraße (StAB, file 2-P.4.o.2.b.356) Status: not in use (renamed after 1937) Creation: 1873/74 Classification: Type A Modifier: Phytonym Construction pattern: [Nphytonym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: There is no conclusive answer as to whether the street is dedicated to palm plants because they were known from overseas territories, or because they were actually regarded as native plants, as described by Seemann and Bolle (1857).

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Stresemannstraße (no file in the StAB) Status: in use Creation: 1953/54 Classification: Type B Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Gustav Stresemann (*1878; †1929) was a politician, Chancellor of the German Empire and Foreign Minister. He ran for a seat in the Reichstag in 1907 and “gab sich [während des Wahlkampfs] als glühender Verfechter deutscher Kolonialpolitik und Flottenrüstung” [presented himself [during the election campaign] as a fervent advocate of German colonial policy and naval armament] (cf. Koszyk 1989: 93). However, Kolb (2013) indicates: “Es war das Feld der Außenpolitik, auf dem S. Epoche gemacht hat. Ziel war der Wiederaufstieg des Dt. Reichs zur souveränen und im internationalen System gleichberechtigten Großmacht. Aber aufgrund der Erfahrungen von 1914–18 legte S. seit 1919 seiner Außenpolitik eine realistische Einschätzung der internationalen Kräfteverhältnisse zugrunde und operierte mit den Mitteln der Verhandlung und Verständigung” [It was the field of foreign policy in which Stresemann made epoch. The aim was the rise of the German Reich to a sovereign great power with equal rights in the international system. But on the basis of the experiences of 1914–18 he based his foreign policy on a realistic assessment of the international balance of power and operated with the means of negotiation and understanding as from 1919]. Südweststraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Südweststraße) Status: in use Creation: ca. April 1927 Classification: Type B Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Meyer-Gerhard (1996: “Deutsch-Südwestafrika”) notes that “der Kürze halber [...] in volkstümlicher Sprechweise neuerdings vielfach statt der amtlichen Bezeichnung Deutsch-Südwest oder einfach Südwest gebraucht [wird]” [for the sake of brevity, the term Deutsch-Südwest or simply Südwest is now often used in colloquial parlance instead of the official designation]. Banse (1933: “Deutsch-Südwestafrika”) adds: “Deutsch-Südwestafrika, die älteste deutsche Kolonie, 1883 von Adolf Lüderitz begründet, der das Gebiet von Angra Pequena erwarb“ [Deutsch-Südwestafrika, the oldest German colony, founded in 1883 by Adolf Lüderitz, who acquired the territory of Angra Pequena].

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Togoplatz (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Togoplatz) Status: in use Creation: 1940/41 Classification: Type B Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Named after the former German protectorate of the same name, which was established on the Slave Coast (cf. Zech 1996: “Togo”). Togostraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Togostraße) Status: in use Creation: 1924/25 Classification: Type B Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: see Togoplatz Vietorstraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Vietorstraße) Status: in use Creation: 13 September 1921 Classification: Type B Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: In this case, several persons can be considered as “name patrons”. Porsch (2010: “Vietorstraße”) assumes a designation after the Bremen merchant Friedrich M. Vietor (*1821; †1906), “dem großen Förderer der Inneren und Äußeren Mission” [the great promoter of the Inner and Outer Mission]. However, a designation after Johann Karl Vietor (*1861; †1934), a Bremen merchant who emigrated to West Africa in 1884 to become head of a branch of the company Friedrich M. Vietor Söhne (cf. Hoffmann 2009: 48), or after the Bremen merchant Johann Karl Viëtor (*1810; †1870), who – in cooperation with several missions – worked for a more humane colonial policy in West Africa (cf. Reinhard 2013: 291), is also possible. However, the colonial revisionist background described in the article, which includes the time of the creation of Vietorstraße, suggests one of the latter two persons as the origin. Vogelsangstraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Vogelsangstraße) Status: in use Creation: 4. November 1938

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Classification: Type B Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Heinrich Vogelsang (*1862; †1914) concluded the protection treaties on behalf of Lüderitz which enabled the foundation of the German colony DeutschSüdwestafrika (cf. Schnee 1996d: “Lüderitz”). Waterbergstraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Waterbergstraße) Status: in use Creation: ca. April 1927 Classification: Type B Modifier: Oronym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: A sandstone plateau on the territory of the former colony DeutschSüdwestafrika. Also worth mentioning is the Schlacht am Waterberg [Battle at the Waterberg], where the Herero were defeated under the command of Lieutenant von Trotha (cf. Gagel 1996: “Waterberg”). Windhukstraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Windhukstraße) Status: in use Creation: 27 April 1923 Classification: Type B Modifier: Toponym Construction pattern: [Ntoponym-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Windhoek (today Windhoek) formed the main town of the colony Deutsch-Südwestafrika (Bremer Adreßbuch 1942: “Windhukstraße”) and is presently the capital of Namibia. Wissmannstraße (StAB, file 3-S.8.b.Wissmannstraße) Status: not in use (abolition of the Wissmannstraße on 16 October 1928) Creation: 9. November 1906 Classification: Type A Modifier: Anthroponym Construction pattern: [Nfamily name-Ngeographic]toponym Context: Hermann von Wissmann (*1853; †1905) was the commander of the first German colonial troops. Morlang (2005) explains: “1883 bis 1885 erforschte Wissmann im Auftrag des belgischen Königs Leopold II. die Kasai-Region in der heutigen Demokratischen Republik Kongo. Bei dieser Expedition folgte er erstmals seinem Wahlspruch ‚Finde ich keinen Weg, so bahne ich mir einen‘.

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Eigenhändig erschoss Wissmann mehrere Afrikaner, die ihn am Weitermarsch hindern wollten” [From 1883 to 1885 Wissmann was commissioned by the Belgian King Leopold II to explore the Kasai region in todayʼs Democratic Republic of Congo. On this expedition he followed his motto for the first time: ‘If I canʼt find a way, I will open one for myself’. Wissmann himself shot several Africans, who wanted to prevent him from marching on].

Index of Authors Abbad y Lasierra, Iñigo 29 Abel, Sarah 201 Aikhenvald, Alexandra 86, 91, 99 Airò, Barbara 157 Aleff, Maria 206 Alzate y Ramírez, José Antonio 28 Andersen, Astrid Nonbo 200 Andersen, Erik Langer 201 Anderson, John 86 Auer, Anita 224, 233, 238 Axelberg, Gunnstein 188 Azaryahu, Maoz 245, 250, 252 Bába, Barbara 10 Bach, Adolf 251 Bake, Rita 252 Bakker, Peter 201, 220, 222 Baldinetti, Anna 159f., 166, 169 Banse, Ewald 280, 293, 295 Barlow, Michael 5 Bátori, István 10 Baumann, Oskar 52ff., 63ff., 69 Beguinot, Francesco 156, 161f. Bellin, Jacques-Nicolas 29 Bényei, Ágnes 8 Berg, Lawrence D. 207, 209 Bering, Dietz 246, 251ff., 257f., 262, 271 Bertarelli, Luigi Vottorio 160 Bertelsen, Alfred 201 Birken, Andreas 286 Bjørk, Anders Anker 201 Bobé, Louis 198, 200 Bøegh, Kristoffer Friis 201, 220 Bolle, Karl 269, 294 Bombaci, Alessio 158, 162 Bono, Salvatore 159 Bordallo Aguon, Katherine 130 Boulukos, George 81 Brandt, Bettina 265, 284 Brendler, Andrea 251, 262, 282 Brendler, Silvio 251, 262f., 282 Bro, Henning 200 Brunal-Perry, Omaira 121f., 125 Bruns, Karin 289 Bryan, Edwin Horace 123, 125, 127, 132 Busse, Beatrix 80

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-011

Busse, Walter 290 Bybee, Joan L. 5f. Cadet, Nicolas 27f., 40 Calvet, Louis-Jean 25 Campanini, Massimo 160 Casali, Dimitri 27f., 40 Casti Moreschi, Emanuela 159f. Charles, Bertie George 188 Cifoletti, Guido 177 Cilardo, Agostino 160 Connell, Raewyn 87 Conrad, Sebastian 80, 94, 156 Conte, Christopher A. 52 Contini, Riccardo 157 Coomans, Fr. Peter 121, 127 Costansó, Miguel 29, 34ff. Crawford, Barbara E. 188 Cresti, Federico 158f., 175f. Crotta, Salvatore 159f. D’Anna, Luca 156, 158f., 161, 167, 177 Dalberg, Vibeke 206 Dalgaard, Sune 200 Dam, Peder 200 Danielsen, Martin Sejer 204 De Agostini, Enrico 161f., 179 De Mauro, Tullio 162 Debus, Friedhelm 63, 251 Del Boca, Angelo 159 Demhardt, Josef Imre 51f. Deslisle, Guillaume 29 Dewein, Barbara 80, 209, 224 Di Tolla, Anna Maria 162 Dil, Anwar S. 224 Dillard, Joey Lee 202 Döschner, Jascha 54 Dove, Karl 288, 294 Dreesen, Phillip 81, 103 Driver, Marjorie G. 121f., 125 Drummond, Peter 56, 67 Dungca, Bernadita C. 133 Dunker, Axel 155 During, Rainer W. 281 Duval, Pierre 29

300 | Index of Authors

Ebert, Verena 255, 290 Eichler, Ernst 18 Eisenberg, Peter 86 Eliasson, Stig 224 Elkjær, Kenneth 199 Elspaß, Stefan 233 Emerson, Rupert 81 Engelberg, Stefan 223f., 251 Errington, Joseph 81 Evans-Pritchard, Edward Evan 157, 159, 161f. Feierman, Steven 52, 58 Fellows-Jensen, Gillian 188 Flierl, Johann Gottlieb 88 Flores, Sylvia M. 130 Frandsen, Niels H. 200 Fritz, Georg 121, 128, 132 Gäbler, Christoph 124f. Gabrieli, Francesco 157 Gad, Finn 197f., 200 Gammeltoft, Peder 188 Garcia Losquino, Irene 188 Gerling, Anne 247, 289 Geulen, Christian 265 Glasner, Peter 251 Gøbel, Erik 200, 223 Górna, Ada 207 Górny, Krzysztof 207 Griffini, Eugenio 161, 169ff. Gröner, Erich 261 Gründer, Horst 291f. Guardi, Jolanda 157 Guazzini, Federica 156 Gumperz, John J. 230 Gužauskytė, Evelina 33, 44 Hafeneder, Rudolf 84 Hall, Neville A. T. 198, 200f. Hardach, Gerd 121, 123, 125 Haugen, Einar 224 Hayes, David 200 Herling, Sandra 26, 28f., 32, 34f., 40, 118 Herman, Douglas 208 Herzfeld, Hans 259, 280 Herzog, Bodo 288 Heuser, Rita 248f., 252f., 262, 270 Hiery, Herrmann J. 88f., 94 Higgins, Anthony K. 201

Highfield, Arnold R. 200 Hildebrand, Hans 289 Hjort, Ebba 225 Hoffmann, István 4f., 7, 13ff. Hoffmann, Wiebke 296 Holm, Katroine Winkel 209 Holmegaard Aastrup, Iben 118, 201ff., 219, 231f. Holzmann, Ksenja 285 Hornby, Ove 200 Hough, Carole 32ff. J. Soltész, Katalin 8 Jackson, Frederick H. 130 Jakobsen, Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig 118, 188, 197, 202f., 221, 236 Jansen, Jan C. 82 Jennings, Andrew 188 Jónsson, Finnur 201 Jørgensen, Bent 188 Jørgensen, Helle 202 Jørgensen, Villads Leer 209 Joutel, Henri 29 Junker, Carsten 81f. Jureit, Ulrike 52 Kabell, Inge 198 Kachulle, Doris 285f. Kalkar, Otto 225f. Karolle, Bruce G. 122 Kaufmann, Henning 248 Kellermeier-Rehbein, Birte 223f. Kemmer, Suzanne 5 Kiviniemi, Eero 13 Klein, Thoralf 267, 281 Kleivan, Inge 197ff., 201 Kleßmann, Eckart 254 Knauer, Gabriele 28 Knight, David W. 200 Knoll, Arthur J. 88f., 94 Koch, Peter 225 Kohler, Alfred 282 Kolb, Eberhard 295 Konopka, Anja 246 Koopman, Adrian 207 Korff, Gottfried 252 Kostanski, Laura 206 Koszyk, Kurt 295 Krieger, Maximilian 84

Index of Authors | 301

Kruse, Lisathe Møller 199, 201 Kühl, Karoline 118, 201ff., 230 Kühn, Ingrid 252 Labanca, Nicola 158f. Ladányi, Mária 5 Lapierre, Alain 26 Laudonnière, René Goulaine de 29, 40ff., 44 Laursen, Dan 201 Lawaetz, Herman 200 Lehne, Pascal Horst 124f. Lenz, Max 280f. Lesho, Marivic 118 Levi Della Vida, Giorgio 160f. Levkovych, Nataliya 7, 26, 86, 118 Lewis, Malcolm G. 51 Lidegaard, Mads 200 Lidsmoes, Ivalu Kristine 118, 201, 205, 208, 221, 236 Liebst, Jette 201, 220 Loomba, Ania 82 López Morales, Humberto 28 López, Tomás 28f. Lötschert, Wilhelm 269 Lü, Yixu 284 Mabire, Jean-Pierre 188 Machan, Tim William 225 Mamzer, Anna 267 Manniche, Jens Christian 201, 207f. Marck, Jeffrey C. 130 Marucci, Barbara 26 Marucci, Rudy 26 Mathieu, Jacques 27 Matras, Yaron 224f. McGuire, James William 201, 206 Meilandt, Mette 201 Meinhof, Carl 283 Meisner, Heinrich Otto 284 Melber, Henning 271 Messaoudi, Alain 157 Meyer-Gerhard, Anton 295 Miccoli, Paolo 118, 156f., 163f., 179 Michels, Stefanie 291 Moisel, Max 86, 127 Morlang, Thomas 297 Mückler, Hermann 88 Müller, Frank Lorenz 283 Müller, Gerhard H. 283f.

Muysken, Pieter 224 Myers, Garth Andrew 205 Nallino, Carlo Alfonso 156f., 160f., 166, 168f., 171f., 175ff. Nel, Yolanda 271 Nettelbeck, Joachim 293 Nielsen, Per 200 Nolin, Jean-Baptiste 29 Noll, Volker 28 Nübling, Damaris 86, 118, 251, 262 Nyström, Staffan 54 Ó Corráin, Donnchadh 188 Oesterreicher, Wulf 225 Oldendorp, C. G. A. 220 Olsen, Poul Erik 221 Orvin, Anders K. 129 Osterhammel, Jürgen 82 Ostermann, Hother 198 Otsuka, Hitomi 118f., 123 Pabel, Reinhold 251 Pahta, Päivi 225 Pawlik, Peter-Michael 288 Pearce, Thomas 26 Peattie, Mark R. 122f. Percy, Carol 227, 230 Pereira, Christophe 167 Peters, Fritz 255 Petersen, Marco L. 200 Petersen, Robert 199, 207 Póczos, Rita 8, 17ff. Porsch, Monika 252, 254f., 258f., 296 Porter, Libby 87 Pratt, Mary Louise 208 Puzey, Guy 206 Quijano, Anibal 83 Rasmussen, Lars Løkke 199 Redknap, Mark 188 Reed-Anderson, Paulette 254, 261 Reinhard, Wolfgang 27, 296 Reszegi, Katalin 6 Ricci, Laura 157f., 164f. Ridel, Élisabeth 188 Rivinius, Karl Josef 156 Rogers, Robert F. 121, 124, 133

302 | Index of Authors

Rohlfs, Friedrich Gerhard 159 Rud, Søren 200, 202, 208 Russell, Scott 123, 129f.

237, 248f., 251ff., 256f., 261ff., 266, 269f. Sveistrup, Poul Peter 200

Sabino, Robin 201, 220ff. Særheim, Inge 188 Sandnes, Berit 17 Sandnes, Jørn 188 Sarnelli Cerqua, Clelia 157 Scarin, Emilio 158 Schalansky, Judith 126 Schmidt-Brücken, Daniel 224 Schnee, Heinrich 128, 256, 289, 291ff., 297 Schneider, Edgar W. 225 Schneppen, Heinz 286 Schöllgen, Gregor 81 Schulz, Matthias 206, 230, 255, 290 Schulze-Thulin, Britta 188 Schuster, Susanne 118, 197f., 201 Schwarz, Ernst 251 Schwarzwälder, Herbert 254 Sebba, Marc 230 Sebro, Louise 201, 238 Seemann, Berthold 269, 294 Seidel, A. 56, 70 Seidel, H. 122, 125 Seiding, Inge Høst 208 Simonsen, Gunvor 200, 238 Sippola, Eeva 118 Skautrup, Peter 225 Smorag, Pascale 26, 44 Soravia, Bruna 161 Soto, Hernán de 25, 27f. Sprigade, Paul 86, 127 Šrámek, Rudolf 13f., 18 Stampe, Camilla 209 Stani-Fertl, Roman 256 Steere, Edward 53, 56, 70, 72, 76 Stellmacher, Dieter 270 Stemshaug, Ola 188 Stenton, Frank M. 188 Stolberg, Doris 223f., 251, 281 Stolberg-Wernigerode, Otto Graf zu 281 Stolz, Thomas 7, 17, 30ff., 38, 46, 54, 59ff., 63ff., 82, 85ff., 94, 118ff., 123, 128, 155, 157f., 163, 168, 193, 195, 206, 209, 223,

Thiel, Reinhold 286 Thykier, Michael 209 Tolcsvai, Gábor 5 Topping, Donald M. 130, 133 Tóth, Valéria 4, 8, 10, 13, 15f. Tyson, George F. 200 Ulrich, Bernd 281 Val Julián, Carmen 195 Van de Velde, Mark 6, 8 Van Langendonck, Willy 6 Volckmann, Erwin 251 Vuolteenaho, Jani 207, 209 Wagner, Åse Kari Hansen 188 Waldersee, Alfred von 284 Walther, Hans 251 Wania, Hubert 282, 292 Warnke, Ingo H. 7, 17, 30ff., 38, 54, 59ff., 63ff., 80, 82, 85, 87ff., 94, 118ff., 123, 128, 155, 158, 163, 168, 193, 195, 206, 209, 224, 237, 248ff., 256f., 261ff., 266, 269f. Wendt, Reinhard 294 Wermke, Matthias 246 Werner, Marion 252 Westergaard, Waldemar 200 Winans, Edgar V. 52 Winkelmann, Helmut 246 Wohlrab, Paul 60 Wolter, Anna 271 Woolf, Alex 188 Yermèche, Ouerdia 102 Zack, Elizabeth 157 Zaide, Gregorio F. 259 Zech, Julius Graf von 296 Zilliacus, Kurt 206 Zimmerer, Jürgen 291 Zwicker, Stefan 293

Index of Languages Afrikaans 91, 257 Amharic 158, 162 Arabic 156ff., 160, 162, 167, 171ff., 177, 179 – Tripolitanian ~ 161 – Yemeni ~ 161

Inuit 198, 205 Italian 86, 88, 118f., 157ff., 163, 165, 167f., 172, 175, 178

Berber 156f., 162, 171ff., 177

Kalaallisut 207 Kiswahili 57, 59f.

Japanese 118f., 122f., 132, 135

Carolinian 122f., 130, 134f. Chamorro 121ff., 127, 130, 132f., 135 Choctaw 40

Latin 171f., 176f. Libyan 155, 157ff., 161f., 167f., 170ff., 176ff.

Danish 118, 189, 193ff., 200ff., 205ff., 209, 219ff., 225f., 228, 230f., 234, 236, 238 Dutch 86, 118f., 194ff., 198, 200f., 204f., 207, 220, 228, 236, 238

Norse 188, 201 Norse-Gaelic 188 Norwegian 129, 188 Nuuk 191, 197

English 4, 26, 53, 70, 86, 122, 124, 129, 132f., 193, 195f., 198, 201, 204f., 220, 228, 232, 236, 238, 257

Portuguese 86, 119, 194 Punic 171 Russian 86, 118

French 26, 30, 38ff., 53, 86, 102, 118, 159, 201, 220, 236f. German 7, 14, 17ff., 26, 31, 53, 55, 57, 60f., 63, 66f., 79, 84ff., 89f., 95, 97, 103, 118, 122f., 128, 134, 196, 220, 236, 257, 262 Greek 164, 171 Greenlandic 199, 201, 207f. Hungarian 4, 6, 9f., 12ff., 16ff.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-012

Sambaa 56f., 59, 70 Serbian-Croatian 17 Sicilian 158 Spanish 26, 30, 38ff., 43ff., 86, 118, 122, 124, 127, 133f., 195, 201 Swahili 70 Tunisian 177 Turkish 171

Index of Subjects and Toponyms Adlerbucht 31 Agrigan 120ff., 125ff., 130ff., 146, 151 Aguihan 120f., 124f. Alamagan 120f., 125f., 131f., 144, 153 Alaska 26, 29 Anatahan 120f., 124ff., 131f., 141, 152 Assongsong 120, 125ff., 132, 147 borrowing 4, 17, 19f. Bremen 94, 245ff. California 26ff., 33f. Carolines, the 86 cartographers 29, 84, 164, 168f., 171f., 177f., 198 classifier 12, 31ff, 38ff., 43ff., 53f., 57ff., 82, 84, 86ff., 97, 99ff., 119, 123f., 133, 163, 167f., 177, 194, 207, 248ff., 261f., 266, 268ff. CoCoTop 7, 11f., 80, 82ff-. 87, 90f., 93f., 97, 104, 117ff., 128, 135, 157, 206, 253 colonial ~ discourse 157, 202, 204, 209 ~ empire 27ff., 80, 86, 90f., 122, 190f., 194, 200, 202, 210 ~ history 121, 189, 200, 209f. ~ linguistics 80, 87, 104, 155, 157, 161, 200, 202, 210, 251, 271 ~ maps 28f., 85, 159 ~ toponomasticon 33, 46, 85, 97f., 104, 119 ~ toponyms 26, 28ff., 35, 38f., 42, 44f., 53, 59ff., 63f., 66, 84, 118, 159ff., 163f., 169, 178f., 203ff., 207, 211, 245, 249, 252, 255f., 262, 270 colonialism 25, 31ff., 38f., 46, 52, 66, 79ff., 88f., 96f., 103f., 118, 133, 135, 163, 178, 188, 201, 224, 250ff., 254, 256, 258f. colonization 7, 25, 27, 40, 56, 66, 88, 121, 157f., 163, 188, 191f., 197, 200, 208, 210, 257 comparative perspective 44, 97, 204 construction pattern 26, 53, 55, 58, 245, 252, 266f., 269 contradictions 79ff., 84, 103f.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712452-013

corpus 9f., 33, 38, 40f., 44f., 52f., 55, 59, 62f., 66, 86, 226, 229f., 233 Creole 196, 200, 220, 222, 236, 257 Cyrenaica 157, 159, 161f., 165f., 176, 179 Danish East India 189, 192 Danish Guinea 194, 203 Danish West Indies/Virgin Islands 190f., 195f., 200ff., 209ff., 219, 221, 223, 226f., 231, 237, 239 Deutsch-Neuguinea 84, 86, 122, 259 Deutsch-Ostafrika DOA 52, 59, 63ff., 69, 85ff., 89f., 92f., 96, 99, 102 Deutsch-Südwestafrika DSWA 63, 65, 85ff., 89ff., 102, 270f. endonyms 38, 54, 59ff., 66, 85, 104, 118f., 123, 128, 162f., 172, 256 Ethiopia 156, 158, 162f., 174 etymology 39, 99, 133, 166, 193, 196, 258 exonyms 7, 38, 43, 45, 54, 85, 104, 119, 123f., 128, 163, 168, 256f., 271 expedition 29, 33ff., 52, 128, 163, 191, 197f., 267 Farallon de Medinilla 120f., 123ff., 140, 149 Faroe Islands 187, 189, 210 Fezzan 157, 159, 162 Florida 26ff., 33 frequency 5f., 12, 59, 63, 94f., 99 French Louisiana 29 Gani-Islands 117, 128 geo-objects 53, 55ff., 60, 63f., 66, 79, 93, 102, 119, 123f., 126ff., 134, 253 Greenland 118, 187, 189, 191f., 197ff., 236 Guguan 120f., 124ff., 143 Hispaniola 25, 118 Hungary 12 hybrids 38, 45, 60f., 66, 118f., 123f., 128 Iceland 187, 189, 210 indigenoids 85, 95, 103

306 | Index of Subjects and Toponyms

Jan Mayen 128f., 150 Kiautschou 86 Kamerun/Cameroon KAM 31, 63, 65, 85f., 89f., 92ff., 102, 268 language ~ change 224, 227, 233 ~ ecology 219, 222, 224, 227, 230, 236ff. ~ policy 202, 224, 227, 236 Libya 156ff., 164f., 167ff. macro-toponyms 4, 89, 95, 118, 252, 266, 269 Mariana Islands/Marianas, the 86, 117f., 120ff, 127f., 132ff., 139ff., Marshall Islands 86, 128 Maug 120, 125ff., 148 Micronesia 117, 120, 122, 133 micro-toponyms 4, 26, 159, 162, 164, 245, 252f. Mississippi 25, 27f., 38ff. Mobile/Alabama 27 modifier 11, 45, 54, 60ff., 95, 119, 123f., 158, 163, 168, 177, 194, 207, 248ff., 257ff. Montréal 26 name-giving 6f., 10, 12ff., 237 name-system 16, 18ff. naming 7, 10, 12, 25f., 28f., 32ff., 36f., 40f., 43ff., 53f., 66, 82ff., 90, 93f., 104, 119, 157, 162, 193, 201, 247, 252ff., 258ff., 265, 269f. Netherlands New Guinea 119 Nouvelle France 27, 42 Nouvelle Orléans/New Orleans 27, 41f. onomastics 5, 53, 161, 173, 175, 251, 271 Pagan 120ff., 125f., 130f., 145 Palau 86 Philippines 118, 120ff.

place names 4, 10, 12ff, 26, 41, 52ff., 58, 60ff., 65ff., 80, 83, 85ff., 89f., 99, 103f., 117ff., 159f., 162, 165f., 168f., 188, 192ff., 196ff., 201ff., 236f., 245, 248, 251, 257 place-making 79, 82f., 85, 87ff., 91, 97, 99, 102f., 134 place-naming 10, 12, 79f., 82ff, 87, 89, 91, 96f., 102f., 119, 127f., 133ff., 192ff., 201ff., 209, 226, 236f. Portuguese Timor 119 Québec 27 Rook Island (Papua Newguinea) 87 Rota 120f., 123ff., 127, 132f. Saipan 120f., 123ff., 134 Samoa 86, 123 San Agustín/Sainte Augustine 27 San Miguel de Guadelupe/Caroline States 28 Sarigan 120f., 125ff., 131f., 142, 154 street names 196, 202, 245ff. Tinian 120f., 123ff., 134 Togo 63, 85f., 89ff., 93, 95f., 102, 261 topoformants 8ff. toponymic ~ classes/classification/classifier 53, 55, 57f., 82, 86, 92 ~ functions 83f., 97, 102 ~ referents 83f., 92 ~ structures 83f., 96, 102 ~ system 3, 5ff., 12f., 18, 20 Tranquebar 189, 191, 193 Tripolitania 157, 159, 161f., 164f., 170f., 174, 176f. Usambara 52f., 55ff., 63ff. Urakas 120, 124ff., 149 Yap 86