Chapter 4.

An examination of three ritual healers:

The Basque salutariyua, the French marcou and the Italian maramao
Roslyn M. Frank
Table of Contents
The following documents are pre-publication versions of a series of monographs that are being
published in the journal Insula: Quaderno di Cultura Sarda. The articles represent chapters in
what is an on-going investigation into a pre-Indo-European ethnocultural substrate of Europe, a
substrate whose presence is clearly visible in the performance art encountered in many regions
of contemporary Europe. The page numbers for each article, as they appear in this file, are
listed below (highlighted in grey). However, the reader is encouraged to read the chapters in
sequence since the material presented in the first one comes into play in the next one, serving
as the basis for further explorations to the topic under discussion.

1. Chapter 1. Recovering European Ritual Bear Hunts: A Comparative Study of Basque and
Sardinian Ursine Carnival Performances. Insula-3: Quaderno di Cultura Sarda (June 2008)
pp. 4197. Cagliari, Sardinia. http://www.sre.urv.es/irmu/alguer/. [pp. 160 ]
2. Chapter 2. Evidence in Favor of the Palaeolithic Continuity Refugium Theory (PCRT):
Hamalau and its linguistic and cultural relatives. Part 1. Insula 4: Quaderno di Cultura
Sarda (December 2008), pp. 61131. Cagliari, Sardinia.
http://www.sre.urv.es/irmu/alguer/. [pp. 6198]
3. Chapter 3. Evidence in Favor of the Palaeolithic Continuity Refugium Theory (PCRT):
Hamalau and its linguistic and cultural relatives. Part 2. Insula-5: Quaderno di Cultura
Sarda (June 2009), pp. 89133. Cagliari, Sardinia. http://www.sre.urv.es/irmu/alguer/.
[pp. 99150]
4. Chapter 4. An examination of three ritual healers: The Basque salutariyua, the French
marcou and the Italian maramao. Insula: Quaderno di Cultura Sarda (in press).[pp. 151
214]
5. Chapter 5. Hunting the European Sky-Bears: Revisiting Candlemas-Bear Day and World
Renewal Ceremonies. Insula: Quaderno di Cultura Sarda (in prep.).
6. Chapter 6. The pre-Christian origins of Zwarte Piet (Black Peter) and his European
relatives. Insula: Quaderno di Cultura Sarda (in prep.).
 Chapter 1. Frank, Roslyn M. Recovering European Ritual Bear Hunts: A Comparative Study of Basque and
Sardinian Ursine Carnival Performances. Insula-3 (June 2008), pp. 41-97. Cagliari, Sardinia.
http://www.sre.urv.es/irmu/alguer/

Recovering European Ritual Bear Hunts: A Comparative Study of

Basque and Sardinian Ursine Carnival Performances

Roslyn M. Frank
University of Iowa
E-mail: roz-frank@uiowa.edu
Homepage: http://www.uiowa.edu/~spanport/personal/Frank/Frankframe.htm

Everybody says, After you take a bears coat off, it looks just like a human.
Maria Johns (cited Snyder 1990: 164)

Lehenagoko eskaldnek gizona hartzetik jiten zela sinhesten zizien. (Basques used to
believe that humans descended from bears)
Petiri Prbende (cited in Peillen 1986: 173)1

[] the word does not forget where it has been and can never wholly free itself from the
dominion of the contexts of which it has been part.
M. M. Bakhtin (1973: 167)

Introduction
My interest in the Mamutzones dates back to 2002 when I was contacted by Graziano
Fois, a researcher from Cagliari, Sardinia. Using the Internet, he discovered that I had
done considerable research on Basque folklore and culture and wanted to consult with me
concerning a theory he had developed concerning the origin of the name of the
Mamutzones. He had been investigating this Sardinian cultural phenomenon for some
time and was looking at the linguistic component of it. More specifically, he was

1
The quote is from an interview conducted in the fall of 1983 with one of the last Basque-speaking bear
hunters in the Pyrenees, Dominique Prbende, and his father Petiri. It was the latter who among other
things said the following: Lehenagoko eskaldnek gizona hartzetik jiten zela sinhesten zizien [In times
past Basques believed that humans descended from bears] (Peillen 1986: 173).
 2

attempting to identify the etymology of the root mamu-. As he pointed out, written
documentation on the Mamutzones and sUrtzu (the bear) will not take us further back
than the 19th century where they are first mentioned. However, there is abundant
toponymic evidence for this root across Sardinia, and especially in the central part of it, a
zone considered to be somewhat more conservative in terms of the retention of older
cultural elements. Therefore, while written documentation on this phenomenon has a
relatively shallow time depth, the toponymic evidence suggests a different picture: a far
deeper time depth, although not one that can be dated with any precision. Stated
differently, one avenue that might provide further insights into the origins of the
Mamutzones and sUrtzu would be to trace the etymology of the root mamu-.

Fig. 1. A typical Mamuthone. Source: http://www.tropiland.it/sardegna/Mamuthones.jpg.

 3

Fig. 2. SUrtzu. Source: Fois (2002)

Graziano laid out his theory to me in a short essay called Liason entre Basque et
Sarde pour un possible racine *mamu /*momu /*mumu (Fois 2002b). In it he compared
a series of terms in Basque and Sardu which appeared to be cognate with each other, that
is, their phonological shape and semantic meaning coincide closely. I found what he
wrote quite intriguing, although until I read his article I had heard nothing about the
Sardinian Mamutzones and their bear.
By the time that I read Grazianos essay, in 2002, I had already been investigating
Basque traditional culture for more than a quarter of a century and was well aware of the
etymology of the term mamu in Basque and its connection to a remarkable bear-like
figure. In fact, the word mamu is only one of several phonological variants of the name of
this ursine creature in Basque, while the names for the Carnival characters who appear to
be structural equivalents of the Mamutzones (Mamuthones or Mamuttones) are referred to
 4

by terms such Mamozaurre, Momotxorro, Mumuzarro, Moxaurre, etc., expressions

which show similar phonological alternation in the root of the words (Frank 2005a).2

Fig. 3. Momotxorros of Alsasua, Nafarroa. Source: Tiberio (1993: 58). Photo by Luis Otermin.

I would also include the Basque Joaldunak or Zanpantzarrak in the same category as the
aforementioned ritual performers.3 The term joaldunak translates as those who possess
bells, while zanpantzarrak is sometimes rendered as the St. Pantzars, although that
etymology is somewhat questionable. The performers in question are from carnivals
2
The first presentation I gave concerning this topic was in Cagliari, in 2005, in collaboration with Graziano
Fois.
3
With the advent of electronic media and the easy accessibility to digital photography and video, web pages
have sprung up across Europe displaying local traditions and performance art, cultural artifacts that before
were relatively inaccessible to researchers, except to regional specialists. As a result, in recent years the
Basques, too, have paid more attention to what they see as the ritual counterparts of their own performers in
other parts of Europe, including the Mamutzones. On January, 24, 2008, the newsletter produced by
Dantzan.com, an organization composed of a large number of Basque dance groups, included a
comparative study entitled Joaldunak, Zarramacoak, Botargak eta Mamuthones-ak. It contains several
striking video clips of performances from four locations in the Iberian Peninsula as well as from Sardinia
and Bulgaria. The video clips not only afford the viewer an opportunity to see the performers in action,
they also contain valuable ethnographic data: http://www.dantzan.com/albisteak/joaldunak-eta-abar.
 5

celebrated in the villages of Ituren and Zubieta in Nafarroa. The performers wear two
large sheep-bells on their backs.

Fig. 4. Joaldunak bells. Source: http://www.dantzan.com/albisteak/joaldunak-eta-abar.

I should clarify that there are slight differences between the costumes of the Joaldunak de
Zubieta and those of Ituren. The main difference is that the former do not wear the
sheepskin over their shirts to cover their upper body, while those from Ituren do. Also
two smaller bells without clappers are attached to the sheepskin costume of the
performers from Ituren. These smaller bells are fixed to the back of the performer,
slightly above the two large sheep bells.
 6

Fig. 5. Joaldunak of Ituren, Nafarroa. Source: http://www.ituren.es/es/. Photo by Ernesto Lopez Espelta.

Although the bells are not clearly visible in some of the photographs (below), the
noise they make can easily be appreciated in the following video footage taken during the
Carnival of Ituren and recorded on February 24, 2008:
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x4hcqm_carnavalituren_parties as well as in the
video footage of the same festival found at http://www.dantzan.com/albisteak/joaldunak-
eta-abar. As is obvious, these public performances take place during the day-time hours,
rather than at night. Today none of the Joaldunak performers wear masks and therefore
their identity is easily recognized. This contrasts with practices from times past where
they would hide their identity behind a mask made of kind of black fabric and they often
changed the timber of their voices. That way their identity was further disguised. In fact,
previously, the performers did not remove their costumes, not even their bells, during the
entire festival period, eating and sleeping with them on.
When watching the footage, the characteristic jerky gait of the Joaldunak should be
noted. As the folklorist and ethnomusicologist Juan Antonio Urbeltz (1996) pointed out,
the performers place their feet on the ground in an odd, non-human way, that is, the way
they walk imitates the rocking gait of a bear, i.e., a bear that is walking upright. By
 7

watching the videos available at http://www.dantzan.com/albisteak/joaldunak-eta-abar,

the odd gait of the Joaldunak can be compared to the stylized way of walking that
characterizes the Mamutzones and the Botargak from the small village of Almirete, some
sixty kilometers northeast of Madrid, Spain. In Almirete, they celebrate this festival on
February 2nd, a date known across Europe both as Candlemas and as Bear Day.4

Fig. 6. One of the Joaldunak of Ituren. Source: Tiberio (1993: 38). Photo by Luis Otermin.

4
For a detailed analysis of ritual performances associated with Candlemas Bear Day, particularly
performances encountered in the Pyrenean region, e.g., Zuberoa, cf. Frank (2001).
 8

Fig. 7. Joaldunak of Zubieta. Source: Tiberio (1993: 35). Photo by Luis Otermin.

Fig. 8. Procession of Joaldunak. Source: http://www.pnte.cfnavarra.es/kzeta/ituren_erreport.htm.

 9

Fig. 9. Joaldunak in Ituren, Nafarroa. Source: http://www.ituren.es/es/. Photo by Ernesto Lopez Espelta.

I would note that the Basque Bear or Hartza who is accompanied by these performers,
also has horns, as can be appreciated in the following photos from the festival in Ituren.
The costume is made out of sheepskin while the traditional headdress is constructed from
the head of a ram and has the horns exposed (Tiberio 1993: 36).5

5
For more information on the Joaldunak, cf. http://basque.unr.edu/dance/pages/yoaldunak.htm.
 10

Fig. 10. Hartza of Ituren, Nafarroa. Source: Visualiza.info/Zazu. Photo by Emilio Zazu.
 11

Fig. 11. Hartza in Ituren, Nafarroa with its Keeper. Source:

http://www.pnte.cfnavarra.es/kzeta/ituren_erreport.htm.

Fig. 12. Hartza of Ituren, Nafarroa. Source: http://www.ituren.es/es/. Photo by Ernesto Lopez Espelta.

Today these actors regularly perform in public and in broad daylight. Divided into two
groups, they move along in single file, one after the other. They can also reverse
direction, an act initiated by the two lead dancers. This can be seen clearly in the videos
listed above. In other words, we are talking about a public performance constructed so
that there are two roles: the active role of the performers and a passive role of the other
participants, namely, the crowds of people who attend. On the other hand, even today the
Hartza doesnt respect these conceptual boundaries, and constantly attacks the spectators,
young and old alike.
 12

Fig. 13. Hartza in Arizkun, Nafarroa, chasing bystanders. Source: Tiberio (1993: 71). Photo by Luis
Otermin.

Fig. 14. Another horned Hartza from Ituren with its Keeper. Source: Tiberio (1993: 14). Photo by Luis
Otermin.
 13

In times past, however, the performances included what are called good-luck visits
(Frank 2001, in press-a) where the actors in question, along with their bear, went about
paying visits often to quite isolated farmsteads where they would ask for contributions,
usually in the form of foodstuffs. Urbeltz describes the way that they would creep up on
their victims:

Para ello tapaban con yerba la boca del yoare [bell] al objeto de que no hiciera ruido. Caminando entre
los campos conseguan entrar en la casa a travs de la cuadra; una vez en la cocina, con sigilo, quitaban
la yerba a los descomunales cencerros y comenzaban a caminar alrededor de la estancia con el
consiguiente espanto de nios y mayores. (In order to do this they stuffed the mouth of the yoare shut
with grass with the objective of keeping it from making noise. Walking through the fields they would
manage to enter the house through the stable [on the ground floor]; once inside the kitchen, with great
care, they would remove the grass plug from the huge sheep-bells and would begin walking about the
room which ended up scaring the children and adults). (Urbeltz 1994: 230)

This description allows us to imagine times past when these masked performers marching
along single file, in the dark of night, accompanied by their Hartza, would have given a
very different impression than they do today, that is, as they slowly move along the
public roads and streets of Ituren and Zubieta, in broad daylight, and with their faces
totally uncovered.
In short, if we compare the performances from earlier times with those held today, we
can see that the division between spectatorsthe audienceand the actors was far less
rigid. Stated differently, the boundary between actor and spectator was totally dissolved
through the direct physical interaction between both groups. The frightening, indeed,
almost terrifying appearance of the intruders was emphasized by the strange black masks
they wore and the way that they disguised their voicesspeaking in a whisper in some
locations, not speaking all or speaking in strange tongue that, supposedly, only they
understood (Hornilla 1987: 24-27, 37-39). The intruders arrived at the farmstead, silently,
often in the dead of night, appearing before the householders without warning. Thus, the
sudden discovery of these wild, almost other-worldly creatures in their midst must have
terrified the householders to no end, at least initially, and, consequently, the intimidating
demeanor of the intruders must have left a deep and lasting impression on their hosts, that
is, on those living in the house, children and adults alike.
Another characteristic of these Basque belled-performers is the way that they emit a
rhythmic, low animal-like huffing sound, huh, huh, huh, huh, produced by inhaling and
exhaling rapidly, as they walk along. The sound itself is reminiscent of the characteristic
huffing sounds that bears make in the wild, when disturbed, nervous or otherwise
distressed (DeBruyn et al. 2004; Kilham 2008). It is often understood to be a sign of
aggression; that the bear is about to launch an attack, whereas, in fact, it is associated
 14

primarily with what is called a bluff charge, which is nevertheless extremely

intimidating for any human, even if the person recognizes that the bears action is
intended more as a warning:
When a person gets too close to a mother with young cubs, the sow will usually display, letting the
person know her intent without having to attack. If the person disregards her signals, she may kick it up
a notch by cocking her ears, charging and vocalizing a face-to-face huh, huh, huh, huh. Often the sow
will also use a greatly modified false charge or swat to the ground in an attempt to persuade an intruder
to back away. These gestures constitute a motivational use of ritualistic displays. The intentional
display is used to convey a message or prevent an attack. Bears have great success in using these
displays to intentionally motivate people to drop food or knapsacks. [] The false charge is done in
combination with other bluff displays, like chomping, huffing and snorting. Depending upon the
situation, this usually reflects the bear's desire to delay or avoid direct confrontation. (Kilham 2008)6

Should a bear decide to attack, it is silent, although such attacks against humans are rare.
While today very few spectators would be familiar enough with bear behavior to
recognize the significance of this ritual huffing of the performers of Ituren and Zubieta,
in times past when encounters with wild bears were much more frequent, the huffing
sound would have been especially meaningful and would have added another indication
of the ursine nature of the masked performers.

Linguistic evidence for the Bear Ancestor: Hamalau

In Euskal Herria (Basque Country) there is another aspect of the Hartza bear character
that needs to be addressed, namely, the fact that this creature forms an integral part of a
complex cosmogony of significant antiquity, one that holds that humans descended from
bears, in short an ursine story of origins that places bears at the center of the creation
process. As will be demonstrated in this study, in the case of Euskal Herria, the socio-
cultural embedding of this creature is so extensive that it affords us a mechanism for
understanding or at least for exploring the potential meaning of the performances in
which this character plays a major role. In addition, when examined with care the socio-
cultural situatedness of the Basque data opens up avenues for re-evaluating the meaning
of the Mamutzones and sUrtzu, their performances as well as the semantic content of
other Sardinian linguistic artifacts sharing the same or a similar root, e.g., momotti.

6
Cf. also Kilman & Gray (2002).
 15

Fig. 15. Mamuthones during the Feast of St. Anthony Abbot (January 17). Source:
http://imagocaralis.altervista.org/index.php?mod=04_Soci/Fabrizio/Mamoiada&inscomm=1.

Although this topic will be treated in considerable depth in the course of this study, at
the point I would mention that in Basque there is strange bear-like being who goes by the
name of Hamalau Fourteen, a compound composed of hama(r) ten and lau four. As
will be explained shortly, Hamalau plays a central role in Basque traditional belief and
performance art (Perurena 1993: 265-280). For example, variants of this term are
commonly used to refer to a frightening creature that parents call upon when their
children misbehave, i.e., the counterpart of the babau or spauracchio in Italian. The
dialectal variants of the word hamalau include mamalo, mamarrao, mamarro, mamarrua,
marrau and mamu, among others (Azkue 1969; Michelena 1987-). All of these variants
show nasal spread, that is, the word ends up having two /m/ sounds.
In order to understand what has taken place with the phonological shape of the
expression hamalau, we need to keep in mind that in many Basque dialects the letter /h/
is silent. Therefore, in these dialects hamalau would have been pronounced as amalau (as
it is today in Batua, the Basque unified written standard). This means that because of the
phenomenon of nasal spread, the word ended up with two /m/ sounds, the /m/ which starts
the second syllable spread to the beginning of the word: amalau > mamalau. Also, I
would remind the reader that since Basque has no gender, a variant form such as mamalo
should not be interpreted through the grammatical lens of a speaker of a Romance
language. In other words, while the -o ending on these variants might appear (to a
 16

Romance speaker) to be indicative of masculine gender, in Basque this is certainly not

the case.
Then I would mention that in the case of the variant mamarrao, another common
phonological change has taken place: the replacement of one liquid, i.e., /l/, with another,
namely, with a trilled /r/, so that the last syllable /lau/ is pronounced as /rrao/. Finally,
the variant marrau demonstrates further phonological erosion, i.e., the loss of the second
syllable /ma/: mamarrao > ma(ma)rrao > marrao > marrau. In the instance of mamu,
additional phonological loss can be detected: (h)amalau > mamalau > mamarrao >
mam(arr)au > mamu.7 All of these linguistic processes will be treated in more depth in
the subsequent chapters of this study and compared to the Sardinian examples.
In the case of Sardinia, in addition to the Mamutzones and a variety of toponyms
having similar roots, there are numerous other words that are of interest. These have
essentially the same meanings but slightly different phonological representations. Here I
refer to the fact that the stem of the word varies in its phonological shape, demonstrating
roots in mamu-, momo-, momma- and marra-. In the case of the root form mamu-, there
are mamuntomo: spauracchio; mamuntone: fantoccio; mamuttinu: strepito;
mamuttone: spauracchio, spaventapasseri; mamuttones: maschere carnevalesche con
campanacci; mamutzone: spauracchio as well as mamus esseri fantastici che abitanoi
nelle caverne. In the instance of the variant of momo- we find: momotti: babau,
spauracchio; mommai: befana; mommoi: babau, befana, fantasma, licantropo, orco,
pidocchio, spauracchio, spettro; momotti: babau, spauracchio; marragotti: befana,

7
In Basque, some of the phonological variants associated with the semantic field of hamalau also refer to
small beings, tiny magical semi-human creatures, often helpful to humans but of a rather indefinite shape;
they also appear incarnate in the form of insects, as if the former as well as the latter were viewed as
capable of shape-shifting, undergoing metamorphosis, taking on a disguise, e.g., as a larva might be
understood to shape-shift when it becomes a chrysalis and then turns into a butterfly. For example, mamutu
carries meanings related to putting on a masque or otherwise disguising oneself; to becoming
enchanted, astonished, astounded or put under a spell; more literally it means to become a mamu
while the verb mamortu, from the root mamor-, means both to become enchanted and to form oneself
into a chrysalis or to become an insect (Michelena 1987-, XII, 56-59). Hence, in the same word field,
we find two types of magical creatures. On the one hand there are the large, strange beings that are
sometimes invoked by adults to frighten children and get them to behave, and, on the other hand, another
set of creatures, much smaller, usually helpful although at times mischievous. The latter are said to wear a
red tunic or pointed hat and otherwise dress in black. Anyone familiar with the qualities of elves, pixies,
fairies, brownies, and leprechauns which abound in Celtic folklore would see a resemblance. As mentioned,
they also sometimes take on the shape of insects. They go by the name of mamures or mamarros in some
Spanish-speaking zones; in contrast their Catalan counterparts, are called maneirs and appear as black
beetles (cf. Barandiaran 1994: 79; Gmez-Legos 1999; Guiral, Espinosa and Sempere 1991). As Fois
(2002) has observed, these semantic extensions are reminiscent of certain terms in Sardu, a topic that will
be taken up in the next chapter of this investigation.
 17

biliorsa, bilioso, fantasma, mangiabambini, mannaro, orco, ragno, spauracchio,

spettro(Fois 2002b; Rubattu 2006).8
Also, I would mention that the names used for the Basque ritual counterparts of the
Mamutzones reveal similar phonological correspondences. Thus, in the case of the
Basque and Sardinian materials, we have two types of data that can be compared. One
type consists of the linguistic artifacts themselves, that is, lexical material found in each
language, while the other type of data is embodied socio-culturally in traditional belief
and performance art, again as manifested in Euskal Herria and Sardinia, respectively. The
former data set is linked to the latter in the sense that the meanings of linguistic artifacts
are cultural conceptualizations, socio-culturally situated and shared by a community of
speakers. Thus the cultural conceptualizations should be understood to be distributed
not only across the community of speakers at any given moment in time, but also across
time and space, in the sense that they pass from one generation to the next. In other
words, the aforementioned lexemes and their connotations provide us a means of
reconstructing the ways in which they were used by speakers in times past as well as their
prior cultural embodiment in social practices.
Given that we are talking about linguistic artifacts, beliefs and performance art that
have been transmitted orally, they have not been subjected to rigorous documentation or
interpretation until quite recently. In short, the traces they have left in the written record
are scant. Therefore, a different approach must be employed in order to develop a
methodology that does not rely solely on written texts, but is capable, nonetheless, of
reconstructing and interpreting the cognitive and material artifacts under analysis. In
short, we are dealing with cultural conceptualizations that need an interpretative
framework. So the first step is to see whether the comparative approach, originally
proposed by Graziano Fois, can provide us with new insights into the Sardinian materials
(Fois 2002a, b, [2002]). Naturally, at this stage in the research, our conclusions should be
understood as tentative.
With respect to the question of methodology, in the case of etymological
reconstructions which deal with cultural conceptualizations and that are in turn socio-
culturally entrenched, we are faced with the task of tracing the evolutionary path taken by
8
The English counterparts of these terms are as follows: from the root mamu-, mamuntomo: scarecrow;
mamuntone: puppet; mamuttinu: racket, clamour, noise; mamuttone: scarecrow; mamuttones:
masked performers wearing bells; masks; mamutzone: scarecrow; mamutzones masked performers
wearing bells as well as mamus fantastic beings who inhabit caverns; from the variants momo- and
mammo-, momotti: hag, witch, scarecrow; mommai: hag, witch; mommoi: bogey man, hag, witch,
phantom, spectre, were-wolf, ogre, louse, scarecrow; momotti: bogey-man, scarecrow; and from marra-,
marragotti: hag, witch, imaginary beast, phantom, baby-eater, were-wolf, ogre, spider, scarecrow,
spectre.
 18

these artifacts over time, but without the aid of written sources. Stated differently, if
examined with care linguistic artifacts can reveal the imprints of the collective thought
processes of a given speech community, thought processes that shape and eventually give
rise to the meanings associated with the linguistic artifacts at any given point in time. In
other words, since language itself is a distributed form of cultural storage, every time a
word is used it is used in a specific context, and often in relation to a particular type of
event. This way the original meaning(s) associated with the word can be reinforced, or
changed ever so slightly.
Over time, a word can acquire new meanings, nuances that were not there in the
beginning, while retaining its older meanings. Hence, by examining the semantic record
it is sometimes possible to reconstruct these prior thought processes and the socio-
cultural embedding of the linguistic artifact. When the linguistic artifact also has a
performance component, e.g., when it is also the name of a class of ritual performers, the
performers and their actions become a kind of material anchor for the artifact: the
meaning of the artifact is off-loaded so to speak onto the performer, his costume and
actions. Thus, the meaning of the linguistic artifact can be transmitted across time by
means of these ritual performances.
In the same fashion, past technologies and even belief systems can leave their mark in
the linguistic record, i.e., in the form of linguistic artifacts. For instance, today many
people still use the word icebox to refer to a refrigerator, a clear reference to an
earlier stage in which food was kept inside a box that contained large blocks of ice.
Even though the referent of the term icebox is no longer literally an ice-box, i.e., a
box for ice, the word has survived, attached to an analogically and functionally similar
object. And because it has survived, even if we have never actually seen the prototype of
an icebox, we can imagine what it must have been like because of the information
provided to us by the word itself.
In a similar manner, once the etymology of the dialectal variants of the word hamalau
is identified, i.e., mamalo, mamarrao, mamarro, mamarrua, marrau and mamu, among
others (Azkue 1969; Michelena 1987-), we are better able to explore the meanings
associated with the term hamalau (Perurena 1993: 265-280), the socio-culturally
embedded significance of the bear-like character called Hamalau and the performance art
that is associated with him. In other words, the socio-cultural situatedness of the terms,
including the variants of the terms and the way their meanings have been off-loaded,
provides us a means of reconstituting the earlier meanings and socio-cultural significance
of the expressions. Furthermore, if we find correspondences between the Basque terms
and those found in Sardu, this comparative data will add another dimension to the
 19

discovery process and another source of information for interpreting the word field in a
more comprehensive fashion.
At this juncture the following comments by Ammerman and Cavalli-Sforza (1984:
139) are relevant: Confidence in [evolutionary] reconstructions is built by the
development of multiple lines of evidence that generate independent support for a
particular interpretation. Ultimately, it is the growth of new evidence in individual fields
and the creation of expectations for findings in other fields that generate a dense network
for evaluating a reconstructive hypothesis. Therefore, before entering into a detailed
discussion of the linguistic artifacts themselves, the first step is to outline the various
lines of evidence that will be brought to bear on the problem, particularly those that will
be treated in this chapter of the study.

The Bear Ancestor: Hamalau

When I first decided to do fieldwork in Euskal Herria it was evident to me that I would
need to learn Euskara (Basque). Soon after I had gained enough proficiency in the
language to carry on a basic conversation, a strange thing began to happen to me. People
would take me aside and tell me the following in a low voice, as if they were sharing a
very important yet almost secretive piece of knowledge: We Basques used to believe we
descended from bears. The first time someone told me this, I had no idea what I should
say in response. I found the statement totally amazing. Yet over and over again the same
thing happened to me. People, who didnt know each other, who had no contact with each
other, ended up telling me the same thing.
Finally, I came to the conclusion that I had come across a key piece of data. I just
didnt know what to make of it. Subsequently, I tried to find references to this Basque
belief in bear ancestors. But all my attempts were futile. There was nothing in the
literature; nothing written down anywhere. The belief seemed to have survived only
orally, though oral transmission, passing from one generation to the next, without any
outsider ever noticing it and writing it down. Later I would discover that the ursine
genealogy was connected to a rich legacy of belief and cultural conceptualizations.
It would not be until the late 1980s that I would come across a book with a concrete
reference to this belief. In fact, the first written documentation of what my informants had
been telling me was published in 1986, in a brief article by the French-Basque
ethnographer Txomin Peillen (1986), entitled Le culte de l'ours chez les anciens
basques. In it he reports on an interview he conducted in Zuberoa (Soule) with one of
the last Basque-speaking bear hunters in the Pyrenees, Dominique Prbende, who was 48
 20

years old at the time. Dominiques 83 year old father, Petiri Prbende, was also present.
Peillen begins by explaining the circumstances of the interview:
Au cours d'une enqute sur la chasse traditionnelle, il y a deux ans, nous dcidmes d'interroger un des
derniers chasseurs ayant particip des battues d'ours brun des Pyrnes Sainte-Engrce, dans le Pays
de Soule [Zuberoa] en Pays Basque. (Two years ago, while carrying out a survey of traditional hunting
practices, we decided to interview one of the last hunters who had taken part in the brown bear hunts of the
Pyrenees at Sainte-Engrce [Santa Garazi], in the province of Soule [Zuberoa] in Euskal Herria [Basque
Country].) (Peillen 1986: 171)9

Fig. 16. The seven provinces of Euskal Herria, the historical Basque Country, span France (light yellow)
and Spain (rest of the map) Names in this map are in Basque. Source:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basque_Country_(historical_territory).

He then records the following comments of Dominique:

Dominique Prbende nous dclara que son groupe de chasse, avait pratiqu frquemment la battue
l'ours; il ne put ou ne voulut pas nous dire combien d'animaux furent ainsi abattus. Il protesta qu'il n'en
avait pas tus personnellement, tout en ajoutant qu'il craignait moins l'ours que le sanglier. Pouss

9
The term battue is used generically to refer to hunting, but it also refers to a particular hunting practice, e.g.,
for wild boar, which involves a group of hunters moving silently through the woods, often separated into
two lines, moving along in single file. And then suddenly one group would begin to make all sorts of racket
to flush out the game, driving it in the opposite direction, toward the other row of hunters. In times past,
this was done using various kinds of noisemakers including bells (Caro Baroja 1973: 192-197).
 21

s'expliquer sur cette chasse, il nous dclara que tuer l'ours porte-malheur "r gaixtoa ekharten diz" et
que l'homme qui le fait ne donne rien de bon "eztiz deuse hunik emaiten", dit cet homme de 48 ans.
(Dominique Prbende told us that his group of hunters had frequently taken part in bear hunts; he
couldnt or didnt want to tell us how many animals [bears] were killed this way. He objected that he
had never personally killed any, quickly adding that he feared a bear less than a wild boar. Pressed to
explain more, the 48 year-old man confided in us, declaring that to kill a bear brought bad luck "r
gaixtoa ekharten diz" [lit. it brings you bad luck] and that the man who did would receive
nothing good from it "eztiz deuse hunik emaiten" [lit., it doesnt give you anything good at all].)
(Peillen 1986: 171)

Peillen speaks of a special prayer that was recited by the hunters to protect themselves
from the dangerous influence of bears:
Toutefois il semble que les anciens savaient se protger du malfice prcdent. Notre pre [] nous
racontait que les chasseurs d'autrefois disaient une prire avant de se rendre la Chasse l'Ours.
Dominique Prbende, galement, le vit faire des hommes aujourd'hui dcds, et nous avons peu
d'espoir de recueillir cette prire Hartz otoitzia [The Bear prayer]. (However, it appears that the old
hunters [hunters from before] used to know how to protect themselves from this curse. Our father []
told us that in times past hunters would say a prayer before setting off on a Bear Hunt. Similarly,
Dominique Prbende witnessed men, now deceased, perform this supplication, though we have little
hope of recovering the prayer today, i.e., the Hartz otoitzia [The Bear Prayer]). (Peillen 1986: 171)

While killing a bear, or admitting that one had killed a bear, brought bad luck, the
bears paw was highly esteemed for it was said to bring good luck. 10 Indeed, it acted to
protect the person from the evil eye and other illnesses: Speaking of this practice of
preserving the bears paws, Peillen adds this comment:
Cette coutume de les garder est commune aux chasseurs d'ours sibriens et amrindiens, pour qui la
patte est un porte-bonheur; de mme manire inexplicite elle est garde par les chasseurs basques. Ce
rle de la "patte griffes" dans la magie basque s'observait au dbut du sicle, lorsque pour prserver
les enfants du mauvais il on suspendait leurs cous des pattes de blaireaux. (The costume of
preserving them [bear paws] is common to Siberian and Native American bear hunters, for whom
the paw is a good-luck amulet; in the same inexplicit manner, it is preserved by Basque hunters.
The role of paws with claws in Basque magic was observed at the beginning of the century [20th
century], a time when protecting young children from the evil eye, involved hanging badger paws
around their necks.) (Peillen 1986: 172)

With respect to the prophylactic qualities attributed to badger paws, I would

note that the etymology of the various terms used today in Basque for the
badger goes back to hartz bear. The terms are nothing more than
phonologically reduced or otherwise altered forms of (h)artz-ko, the
diminutive form of (h)artz bear. Pronounced as (h)arzko, the compound term
refers to a small bear, little bear. Given the characteristics of badgers, their
fearlessness and willingness to defend their turf at any cost, this lexical choice
would seem to be taxonomically appropriate. For example, Llande (1926: 94)
gives the following variants for Zuberoa (Soule) and Lapurdi (Labourd) and

10
For a discussion of the widespread nature of this custom, cf. Mathieu (1984).
 22

Nafarroa Beherea (Basse-Navarre): arsko(S, N), azku (S), azku (S), hazkon
(N), azkonarro (L) and azkoin (L, N) (cf. also Frank in prep.-a). Azkue (1969,
I: 84) lists the Zuberoan word for badger as hartzku, which translates
transparently as little bear. 11
Later on in the interview, another aspect of the belief system comes into view: the
human-like appearance and behavior of bears.
Dominique Prbende nous dclara qu'il ne put manger de l'ours, qu'il y gota et vomit au souvenir de
l'animal qu'il avait dpouill et qui lui semblait avoir une trange morphologie humanode. Il nous
apporta la patte qui se trouvait dans sa chambre, pour confirmer ses dires en ajoutant "dena jentia
dz", c'est tout fait un tre humain, et le pre qui se trouvait assis proximit commenta avec
humour "latzxago", un peu plus rugueux. (Dominique Prbende told us that he couldnt eat bear
meat, that when he tastes it, he vomits at the thought [memory] of the animal that he had skinned
and that it seemed to him to have a strange human-like shape. He brought us the paw that was kept
in his room, in order to confirm what he had said, adding that "dena jentia dz", its just like a
human being, and his father who was seated nearby, commented with humor, latzxago, [but] a little
more rough.) (Peillen 1986: 171)

I would add in passing that in Basque the expression latzxago is the comparative form of
the adjectival root latz. The meaning of this word is not limited simply to rugueux or
rough, but rather describes something that is terrible, frightful, fear-inspiring as well as
powerful and extraordinary. Hence, Dominques father is correcting his son, adding
that the bear is not simply like a human, but rather more terrible, powerful and
extraordinary than human beings.
At this juncture, Peillen reveals the key factor that was motivating his informants to
speak as they had about the bear, insinuating that it had human-like characteristics. And
again, as we will see, the informant is reluctant to speak in public about this particular
belief. In fact, it is only after the tape-recorder is turned off that he confides in his
visitors, assuming that this way the secret knowledge he is going to share would be kept
safe from the prying ears of outsiders. We need to remember that Petiri was speaking in
Basque to other native speakers of Basque. Hence, it would seem that he waited to tell
them the most important part until he felt confident that the knowledge would not be
disseminated indiscriminately among those who were not Euskaldunak (Basque-

11
The protective powers of the little bear (badger) are discussed by Barandiaran: En Ataun (Guipuzcoa),
haba costumbre de colocar pieles de tejn sobre los cuellos de los bueyes, que uncidos al yugo iban a ser
expuestos al pblico, como al conducir el carro de boda y en otras ocasiones semejantes, pues exista la
creencia de que as quedaban a cubierto de toda mala influencia de los aojadores (In Ataun (Gipuzcoa)
there was the custom of placing badger furs over the neck of oxen that were yoked to be exhibited in
public, for example, to the wedding cart or in other similar occasions, since there existed the belief that in
this way they would be protected from all bad influences of those who might cast the evil eye
(Barandiaran 1973-1983, V: 292). For additional information on this and related topics involving the
prophylactic properties of the little bear (badger), cf. Frank (in prep.-a).
 23

speakers), i.e., he waited until they turned their tape-recorder off. Referring the belief in a
bear ancestor, Peillen states:
Cette croyance dcrite pour les Amrindiens et les Sibriens, n'est pas dcrite pour l'Europe notre
connaissance, bien que tous les lments prcdents la fasse pressentir. C'est ainsi qu'alors que nous
avions teint le magntophone, termin notre enqute, Petiri Prbende nous dclara tout de go:
Lehenagoko eskaldnek gizona hartzetik jiten zela sinhesten zizien (les anciens basques croyaient
que l'homme descendait de l'ours). Pri de rpter ses propos il ajouta que l'homme est fabriqu partir
de l'ours. Il nous donnait la clef des croyances prcdentes. (To our knowledge, this belief described for
Native American and Siberian peoples hasnt been described for Europe, even though all the preceding
elements make one suspect its presence. There is also the fact that when we had shut off the tape-
recorder, ending our interview, Petiri Prbende suddenly told us: Lehenagoko eskaldnek gizona
hartzetik jiten zela sinhesten zizien (Basques used to believe that humans descended from bears).
When we asked him to repeat his remark, he added that humans were created by the bear. He had given
us the key to the previous set of beliefs.) (Peillen 1986: 173)12

The last statement by Petiri concerning the fact that humankind est fabriqu partir de
l'ours is probably a literal French translation of the Basque sentence Gizona hartzak
egina da.13 The expression could also be rendered as: The bear created humankind.
Or, expressed more somewhat more elaborately, Our human origins go back to the bear
who created us. When examined more closely, this cosmogenic belief in bear ancestors
resonates strongly with a hunter-gatherer mentality, that is, with what would be a
Mesolithic mindset, and not with the agricultural world view characteristic of Neolithic
pastoralists and farmers. Moreover, we see that the persistence of this ursine cosmology
is found not only in the folk memory of Basque speakers who are no longer emotionally
committed to the tenets of the belief system, but also in the minds of individuals like
Petiri and his son Dominique whose comments suggest that at least a residual true belief
in the Bear Ancestors still survived up to the end of the 20th century. In the sections that
follow we shall discuss other evidenceother types of cultural survivalsrelating
directly or indirectly to this ursine cosmology.

A Central Component of the Cosmology: Bear Ancestors and the Celestial Bear
At first glance a cosmology that holds that humans descend from bears strikes one as odd,
especially to those of us accustomed to having anthropomorphic high gods, i.e., to
scenarios in which the divine being or beings are portrayed in human form. Nonetheless,
rather than being particularly unusual, it is a common genealogy for belief in a bear
ancestor has informed the symbolic order of hunter-gatherer peoples across the globe
12
The phrase l'homme est fabriqu partir de l'ours offers challenges to any translator since a completely
literal translation of it is rather difficult. It might be glossed into English in a number of ways: man was
formed/shaped from/by bears; from the bear came mankind; the bear created/forged humankind or more
loosely humans descend from bears or even the lineage of humans sprang from the bear.
13
Obviously, Petiri uses the term gizona which literally means the man, but in this context it means
humans or humankind.
 24

wherever ursine populations have been present.14 In Europe, where primates were absent,
humans shared their habitat areas with bears and apparently saw themselves reflected in
this intelligent creature, whose skinned carcass, i.e., divested of its fur coat, the bears
body is remarkably similar to that of the body of a human being (Shepard 1995; Shepard
and Sanders 1992). In fact, Finno-Ugrians affirm that, once its fur coat is removed, a
female bear has the breasts, hips, legs and feet of a young woman (Praneuf 1989: 9),
while in some locations elaborate ritual ceremonies accompanied the act of undressing
the bear, most particularly the unbuttoning of its coat (Krejnovitch 1971: 65).15
In addition, the animals incredible memory of landscape and keen sense of smell and
hearing gave it a distinct advantage over humans when it set out to hunt the same animals
and plant foods as its human descendents. Indeed the bear's hearing is so acute that at 300
meters it can detect human conversation, and it responds to the click of a camera shutter
or a gun being cocked at 50 meters. Also, we must remember that humans and bears are
foragers, omnivorous creatures who have been stuck in the same ecological niche for
hundreds of thousands of years, competing for the same food sources, salmon runs, berry
patches and honey trees (Shepard and Sanders 1992).
Undoubtedly humans were impressed not only by the bear's uncanny ability to
overhear human conversations, but also by its small, almost human-like ears, facial
expressiveness, ability to walk upright on the soles of his feet, as humans do, as a well as
by the animals great manual dexterity.16 Also, in contrast to other temperate mammals,
the female nurses her young holding them to her breasts, which are located on her chest
rather than her stomach, just as a human mother does.
In short, bears and native peoples lived together on the continent of Europe for
thousands of years. Both walked the same trails, fished the same salmon streams, dug
roots from the same fields, and year after year, harvested the same berries, seeds, and
nuts. The natives came face to face with bears when both coveted the same berry patch,
for instance, or when a hunter, bringing help to pack home an elk he had killed,
discovered that a bear had buried the carcass and was lying on the mound. Sometimes the
hunter fled, sometimes the bear. The relationship was one of mutual respect (Rockwell
1991: 1-2).

14
Among human populations who shared habitat areas not with bears, rather with primates, the latter were
often seen as their ancestors (Mathieu 1984; Shepard and Sanders 1992).
15
Krejnovitch's meticulous fieldwork which he carried out in 1926, 1927, 1928, and 1931, shows the
advantages that accrue when linguistic materials are utilized as tools of interpretative analysis.
16
Because of his mode of walking, the bear's footprints are remarkably similar to those left by human beings.
For this reason, in the Pyrenees, the bear is often referred to as pedescaous (pieds nus), i.e., he who walks
barefoot (Cals 1990: 7; Dendaletche 1982: 92-93).
 25

However, among the indigenous peoples of Europe there is evidence that the
relationship was far more complex. Bears were often central to the most basic rites of
these groups: the initiation of youths into adulthood, the sacred practice of shamanism,
the healing of the sick and injured, and the rites surrounding the hunt (Praneuf 1989;
Rockwell 1991; Shepard and Sanders 1992; Sokolova 2000; Vukanovitch 1959). The
striking parallels that traditional peoples have identified between humans and bears,
traditions and practices found in many geographical regions of the world, have been
studied at length, particularly by those who are concerned with the belief systems of
hunter-gatherer societies. (Praneuf 1989; Rockwell 1991; Shepard and Sanders 1992).
Yet little serious attention has been paid to the possibility that in Europe there are still
survivals of this ursine genealogy, survivals that that might well date back to an earlier
hunter-gatherer symbolic and cultural order; survivals that today take the form of
traditions, oral tales and ritualized performance art. In the case of Western Europe some
of the most profoundly ingrained spiritual traditions and folkloric survivals of this ursine
belief system have been identified among the Basques as well as in the Pyrenean-
Cantabrian zone where ritualized bear hunts are still celebrated today.
Indeed, as we have seen, Petiri Prbondes words reiterate what must have been a
wide-spread belief in the not too distant pastat least among rural Basque-speakers:
Lehenagoko eskaldnek gizona hartzetik jiten zela sinhesten zizien (The Basques
used to believe that humans descended from bears). Moreover, other evidence suggests
that this highly entrenched belief system might have been widespread in other parts of
Europe, for example, in Sardinia. Given that, until quite recently, this traditional lore has
been transmitted from generation to generation almost exclusively through oral practices
and performance art, Basque culture provides us with a remarkable window onto what
appears to be a much older and more complex European symbolic order that was
grounded in this ursine genealogy.
In this respect, we need to recall that the significance of the elderly Basque man's
comments about humans descending from bears is reinforced by those of his son who
stated that, although a seasoned bear hunter, he had never been able to eat bear flesh. The
mere smell of it made him want to vomit because dena jentia dz (its just like a
human being). Cognitive parallels from North American Indians provide further insight
into these statements. In the Yukon, the Tlingit said: Grizzlies are half human. The
Ojibwa often referred to bears as anijinabe, their word for Indians. Likewise, the Yavapai
of Arizona said, Bears are like people except that they cant make fire. Many plains
and southwestern tribes, including the Yavapai, would not eat bear meat because they
believed it was like eating a person's relative (Rockwell 1991: 3-4). We find a similar
 26

sentiment expressed by the Native American story-teller Maria Johns who is cited in
Snyder (1990: 164): Everybody says, After you take a bears coat off, it looks just like
a human. Bears were humans, but they wore heavy fur coats.
In fact, outside Europe we also find that many hunting tribes thought of bears as the
shamans of the animal world and believed the animals hairy skin, paws and long claws
possessed therapeutic virtues. According to Yavapai myth, at the dawn of time the first
great shaman was Bear. Coexisting with these mythic narratives was a universal belief
among northern hunters that bears possessed powers analogous to those possessed by
shamans. Many said that bears changed their form to become humans, other animals, or
even inanimate objects. And in turn, those shaman healers who had the bear as a spirit
helper wrapped themselves in the skins of bears, wore necklaces of bear claws, painted
bear signs on their faces and bodies, and smoked pipes carved in the shapes of bears. In
their medicine bundles they kept bear claws and teeth and other parts of the animal. They
used bear claws and gall and bear grease in their healing ceremonies. They ate the plants
bears ate and used them as their medicines. They danced as they thought bears danced
and they sang power songs to the animal (Rockwell 1991: 63-64).
At the beginning of the 20th century, as we have noted, in the Basque region of the
Pyrenees, bear paws were still highly esteemed as well as badger paws and claws, the
latter animals being classified taxonomically in the Basque language as a little bears.
Perhaps because of the difficulties imposed by the bear paw's large size and weight, in
order to protect children from the evil eye, the small paws of badgers, remarkably
similar in shape to bear paws, were hung from childrens necks as amulets (Peillen 1986:
171-172). Moreover, since contact with the bear itself was especially effective in terms of
obtaining the benefits of its curative powers, until about fifty years ago, in the Pyrenees it
was still common for the bear and his trainer to make annual visits to the villages where
they were warmly welcomed. Parents brought their children so that they could be placed
on the back of the bear who, under the care of the bear trainer, would take exactly nine
steps. In this manner parents were able to protect their children from physical illnesses
and, in addition, insure that they would be well behaved (Dendaletche 1982: 91).
The belief that attributed similar curative powers to the bear also guaranteed the
positive reception of bear trainers all across the Balkans (Vukanovitch 1959). In fact,
there is evidence that these bear doctors even made regular house calls to cure the sick
and protect the households from harm. In this sense, the visitation brought good luck to
the household. However, there is reason to believe that similar rituals were performed
with real bearsacross much of Europe and indeed there is documentary evidence that,
earlier, even monasteries were directly involved in training young bears who would go
 27

about with their trainers to conduct these healing ceremonies. In short, these activities
formed part of what are called good-luck visits.
The possible diffusion of these healing practices across Europe can be judged, at least
to some extent, by the fact that schools were set up to train young bears to carry out their
duties. For instance, in Ustou and Erc in Arige (Midi-Pyrenes) we discover two of the
most well known of those institutions of higher learning where little bears were sent to be
educated and trained, often at public expense. The schools continued to function into the
20th century, more concretely up until World War I. Indeed, earlier the teachers and
future bear trainers constituted a highly structured fraternity based in the Pyrenean zone
of Arige, while their pupils ended up performing throughout Europe (Bgoun 1966:
138-139; Praneuf 1989: 67). Upon graduation the ursine pupils were brought to the town
square for a remarkable public ceremony (Praneuf 1989: 68-69).
From the descriptions of the feats that the young bears had to learn in order to
graduate from these bear academies, we can see that the pupils were taught specific
tricks, among them that of falling down dead on command and then jumping up once
more, again on command. This feigning of death and subsequent resurrection of the bear
was an essential component of the good-luck visits(Praneuf 1989: 69), a topic we will
take up shortly.
While the aforementioned examples of bear academies are based on data drawn from
the Pyrenean region, in the northeast of France, in the Bas-Rhine at Andlau, there is
documentation concerning training bears at a Christian site that was inaugurated in the
ninth century, the Abbey of Andlau. Although nominally Christian, the legends
connected to the location strongly suggest a deeply rooted belief in the sacredness of
bears. The site in question is linked to a miracle about a bear. Supposedly, as a result of
the miraculous event, those inhabiting the abbey began to house bears inside their
quarters. The villagers of the area brought a loaf of bread each week to offset the costs of
feeding the ursine lodgers. Up until the French Revolution, bear-trainers from this zone
of Alsace also had the privilege of free lodging and a stipend of three florins and a loaf of
bread.
Even today, next to the crypt of the tomb of the officially recognized saint of the
Abbey, Saint Odile, one can see the figure of a bear, carved in stone, resting on one of the
pillars (Clbert 1968: 325-328). Yet one suspects that in earlier times the Christian saints
silent companion may have played a more active role in the rites celebrated at that sacred
site. In fact, one suspects that the location in question may have served as a breeding
ground for tame bears and bear trainers, as a place were the members of the guild met and
exchanged information (Gastau 1987). Perhaps further research would reveal the
 28

existence of other religious sites, inhabited by bears and their keepers, scattered across
Europe (such as the sanctuary of St. Remedio in northern Italy). It should be remembered
that in Medieval Europe the bear-keepers often performed in the company of a troupe of
masked actors, musicians and jesters, going from village to village to conduct their
good-luck visits.

Fig. 17. Bear leader and musicians. Source: engraving from Olas Magnus, Historia de gentibus
septentrialibus. Rome 1555. Reproduced in Michel and Clbert (1968: 329)

Another interview: Evidence for a belief in the celestial bear

In the case of Europe, because of its physical appearance and great intelligence, the bear
was, in fact, the animal that most closely replicated a human being. However, in contrast
to its human relatives, the bear seemed to be capable of dying and being resurrected from
a death-like sleep in the spring of each year. Evidence from many native peoples
demonstrates that this ability has been perceived by humans as one of supernatural, even
mystic, proportions.
Among the Basques, belief in the sacredness of the bears as well as their role as
ancestors of humans persisted into the latter part of the 20th century, as we have seen in
the case of the 1983 interview with Dominique and Petiri Prbende. Similar
documentation, perhaps of an even more remarkable nature, is encountered in another
unusual interview conducted slightly over a hundred years earlier, in 1891. This time the
informants are not Basque bear-hunters but rather two Basque bear-trainers. In the
interview the informants speak of the special powers of bears and the sacred relationship
holding between their ward, an earthly bear, and a Celestial Bear who is conceptualized
as a sort of ursine divinity. This remarkable document consists of a brief report by an
English folklorist by the name of Thomas Hollingsworth who was vacationing in the
 29

French Basque region. There in the town of Biarritz he happened to run into two bear-
trainers, a man and his wife, accompanied by their bear. His published report documents
the interview that he conducted with them (Hollingsworth 1891).17
The text sheds additional light on the conceptual schema underlying the belief in an
ursine genealogy found among Basque people as well as on certain celestial aspects of
the belief system itself. The informants were Navarrese Basques whose first language
was Euskara (Basque). The Englishman communicated with the pair in Spanish since
they knew no French. That the first language of the two informants was Esukera is a
conclusion easily drawn from the introductory remarks of Hollingsworth who begins by
addressing the readers of the English journal Folk-Lore:
Can any reader of Folk-Lore throw any light on a superstition prevalent apparently among the Basques
of Navarre and the Aragonese of the Pyrenees, to the effect that the bear acts as a sort of watch-dog to
St. Peter at the gate of Heaven. My informants are two Navarese [sic] Basques, a man and woman
whom I saw exhibiting a bear in Biarritz. I have no doubt that, if I could have spoken Basque, I could
have extracted much more information than I did, but it was difficult for them to speak Spanish, the
only language except their own with which they were at all acquainted. 18 (Hollingsworth 1891: 132)

Hollingsworth states that initially the couple was shy and reticent and that it required a
good deal of persuasion on his part to win their confidence even in the slightest degree.
The interview, as reported by Hollingsworth, provides information concerning the role of
the Celestial Bear as the guardian of the Gate of Heaven. Through the comments of the
two Basque informants, we see that bears were viewed as extraordinarily intelligent
animals, so intelligent in fact that they once ruled the earth. Also, according to the two
bear keepers, bears are capable of understanding human speech, even Euskara.
In the interview Christianized celestial lore, mixed with elements from deeper strata of
the conceptual schema relating to the veneration of a Celestial Bear, can be detected. The
couple utilizes what Lienhard (1991) has defined as hybrid discourse where two different
cultural codes or schema are manipulated simultaneously. One element drawn from the
earlier schema is the emphasis placed by the bear trainers on the presence of wolves in

17
I am greatly indebted to Evan Hadingham for bringing this interview to my attention over twenty years
ago.
18
The fact that the two had no knowledge of French suggests that they lived not on the French side of the
border, but rather on the Spanish side or at least that at some time in the past they had had more contact
with Spanish speakers. Otherwise, if they had resided on the French side of the border, it is more likely that
they would have known some French and probably no Spanish. Another inference that might be drawn
from the linguistic skills of the two Basque speakers is that they exhibited their bear primarily in locations
where Basque was the language spoken, and consequently would have had little need for using either
Spanish or French in their daily communication.
 30

Hell. In fact, wolves are portrayed as adversaries of bears in the folk belief of the Iberian
Peninsula (Daz 1994).19
In Hollingsworths report the two bear guardians demonstrate profound respect for
their ward, although they never overtly mention any belief on their part in a bear
ancestor. Given the significance of Hollingsworths text, I shall cite the entire section in
which he talks about the interview:
They told me that their bear, when they were not travelling about, lived with them in their hut in the
mountains, and that they were always careful to treat him kindly and feed him well. For example, if
they had not enough of fish (which they looked upon as a luxury) for themselves and the bear, the latter
must be fed and satisfied first. They declared that the animal understands all that is said about him, and
observes and comprehends any household work, trade or occupation which may be going on; and that
is the reason that a bear who has lived with men should never be allowed to return to the forest and
mountains, for he will tell the other bears of what he has seen and learnt, and they, being very cunning,
will come down into the valleys, and by means of their great strength, added to the knowledge they
have thus gained, will be able to rule men as they did before! (Hollingsworth 1891: 132-133)
[emphasis in original]

Hollingsworth was unfamiliar with the meaning of the reference to this earlier time
when bears supposedly ruled the earth. The reference to such a past epoch could refer to
the mindset that humans must have had long before the invention of firearms, at a point
in time when humans were far out-numbered by bears, yet shared mountain trails and
salmon streams with them. Far from feeling superior to these furry and very intelligent
creatures, humans must have been keenly aware of the possibility of an unexpected
encounter and therefore probably paid close attention to the habits, territorial ranges and
feeding patterns of their ursine cohorts. Moreover, according to field work conducted by
Dendaletche (1982: 95), in the Pyrenean region of Barges, popular belief holds that
formerly the country was governed by five bears, each of which was in charge of a
different district of the zone. Humans and other creatures were obliged to render homage
to their ursine rulers, their ancestral kin. Undoubtedly the Basque bear-trainers' remarks,
cited by Hollingsworth, hearken back to a similar preterit cognitive framework.
Consequently, the reverent attitude of these two bear keepers underlines the fact that
the bear was deeply respected among the Basques. He was treated with similar reverence
across both America and Eurasia in times past, as is evidenced in the case of rites for the
dead bear celebrated until recently in Lapland, Alaska, British Columbia and Quebec.
All across North America, Indians have honored bears. When northern hunting tribes
killed one, they spoke to its spirit, asking for its forgiveness. They treated the carcass
reverently; among these tribes the ritual for a slain bear was more elaborate than that for
any other food animal (Rockwell 1991: 2). As Shepard has observed, there is evidence
19
I am greatly indebted to Joaqun Daz, Director of the Ethnographic Museum Joaqun Daz of Uruea,
Valladolid, Spain, for this insight.
 31

of a wide and ancient distribution of bear ritual. It is present in virtually every country of
Western and Eastern Europe, in Asia south to Iran, and among many of the Indian nations
of the United States, even into Central and South America (Shepard and Sanders 1992:
80).
With regard to the animals uncanny abilities, the Asiatic Eskimos, for example, held
that during the festival of the slain bear, the bears shadow-soul could hear and
understand the speech of humans and men, no matter where they were (Shepard and
Sanders 1992: 86), while the Tlingit said, People must always speak carefully of bear
people since bears [no matter how far away] have the power to hear human speech. Even
though a person murmurs a few careless words, the bear will take revenge (Rockwell
1991: 64). Analogous beliefs are found among the Ket (Yenesei Ostyaks), an Ugric-
speaking people of Siberia, with a rich tradition of bear worship, who believe that the
bear is chief among animals, that beneath its skin is a being in human shape, divine in
wisdom. For them the bear was invested
with the capability of understanding the speech of all beasts as well as of man. Besides, they fancied
that though the bear in summer was dull of hearing because of the rustling of leaves, in autumn or
winter, however, it was a very dangerous to speak ill of the bear or to boast of successful bear hunting.
Should you speak badly of him one day or the other, and go hunting and find a good place, a bear will
rise from behind a tree suddenly and grab you with his paw. (Alekseenko 1968: 177)

Thus, the Basque bear keepers' words echo a similar belief in the bear's ability to
understand human speech. And, far from describing him as a cuddly pet, the Basques'
comments, represent the bear as a familiar yet awesome being, in a fashion comparable to
that of northern peoples for whom he is un animal intelligent, habile, humain, familier et
redout (Mathieu 1984: 12).
Among Finno-Ugric peoples and Native American groups, the bear is viewed as
omnipotent and omnipresent. He has the power to hear all that is said. For this reason
hunters would avoid mentioning the bears real name, choosing rather to address him
with euphemisms. That these might have been the qualities attributed to the European
Celestial Bear and his earthly representatives, appears to be demonstrated in social
practice by the semantic taboo existing among Slavic and Germanic peoples. This led
them to avoid mentioning the bears real name, an avoidance pattern which, in all
likelihood, stemmed from a profound adherence to the tenets of this animistic cosmology.
The substitute term utilized in Slavic languages was honey-eater, while Germanic
tribes preferred to call him the brown one, an expression that gave rise eventually to the
 32

English word bear, linked etymologically to the words brown and bruin (Glosecki
1988; Praneuf 1989: 28-32; Stitt 1995).20
Hollingsworth concludes his report with these pertinent revelations:
I endeavored to learn when this sad state of affairs existed [when bears ruled humans], but could only
ascertain that it was antesbefore, in other times. El Orso, [sic] said his keepers, es el perro de
Dios, el perro de San Pedro [the bear is the dog of God, the dog of Saint Peter]; he is very wise and
thoughtful; he sits beside the blessed saint at the gate of Heaven, and if those who seek to enter have
been cruel and unkind to bears in this world, the saint will turn them away, and they will have to go and
live in hell, with the devils and the wolves. Que hay ms por decir! concluded the woman, el orso
es el perro de Dios [the bear is the dog of God]. The bear's name was Belis. I spell it as it was
pronounced. Throughout the conversation the peasants would constantly interrupt themselves to speak
to the animal,21 assuring me that he perfectly understood all that was said. (Hollingsworth 1891: 133)
[emphasis in original]22

These last remarks by the couple merit a closer analysis. As I have noted, we are dealing
with a hybrid discourse where the tenets of Bear Ceremonialism are interwoven with
those of Christianity. There is also a topological overlapping between the two systems:
there is spatial configuration with a higher, afterworld, situated above, where the soul of
humans goes and where the persons actions here on Earth will be submitted to a final
judgment, before the soul is allowed to enter heaven. In this case, the blending of the two
belief systems ends up positioning the bear as the dog of St. Peter or as the dog of
God, sitting next to the Saint at the gate of heaven. In other words, the bear takes on
the characteristics of a guardian. However, when examined with more care, we see that
the questions that St. Peter addresses to the new arrival deal with the way the person has
treated bears. Thus, we might say that St. Peter is acting on behalf of the bear figure,
sitting silently beside him, very wise and thoughtful. Stated differently, St. Peter is in
charge of interrogating the new arrivals concerning whether they have treated earthly
bears with proper respect. In this way the souls entrance into to Heaven is conditioned
by the way the person has interacted with bears on Earth. Even though the bear is called
el perro de St. Pedro or el perro de Dios, expressions that give deference to St. Peter
or God as if these Christian actors were the superior figures, in reality, because of the

20
Specifically the PIE etymon is *bher-, bright, brown, gave rise to the Old English form bera, and
eventually to the Modern English word bear. The word bruin is a cognate of this group, often used in
English to refer not to the color brown but to bears themselves ([AHD] 1969: 1509).
21
Since the two Basques spoke Basque to their bear, at this juncture, what they were saying to the bear, that
is, what they were telling it in Basque, was more likely a translation or at least a summary their ongoing
conversation with Hollingworth. Or if we assume that they believed the bear was already following the
conversation in Spanishthat is, the conversation between them and Hollingworththey might have been
directing additional comments to the bear, in Basque, and therefore including him in the conversation.
From the text itself, this point is somewhat unclear.
22
From Hollingsworths attempt at a phonetic spelling of the bear's name as Belis, it appears more likely that
the bears name was Beltz. To an English ear this might sound like belis, whereas in Euskara the word beltz
means black and is a common nick-name for black animals.
 33

way the scene is structured, ultimately, it is the silent figure of the bear that ends up
determining whether the soul will be admitted to the Other World.
This type of hybrid discourse is a rather typical result of what happens when two
belief systems become fused; where the older system survives as a substrate element
within the new system. In these circumstances, it is not unusual for the older spiritual
figure to survive, but often only after being assigned a more peripheral role. The figure
now shows up seated, silently, beside the new spiritual authority, or otherwise demoted to
a lower level of importance, visible, nonetheless, to those who chose to reflect more upon
the implications of the co-location of the participating elements. This situation is an
example of a phenomenon called contested ritual agency.
In recent years increased attention has been paid to this concept of contested ritual
agency, particularly in cultural studies where two belief systems have been in prolonged
contact with each other (Eade and Sallnow 2000). More specifically, the term refers to
manner in which symbols of identity are often skillfully manipulated by a given cultural
group. It is commonly employed to refer to the manner in which two opposing groups of
ritual specialists interact, one group protecting the older belief system while the members
of another group act as proponents of the new system. Over time this confrontation sets
up a contest with respect to the manner in which meaning is assigned to the symbolic
artifacts in question. Thus, the interpretation of the symbolic artifactswhich is at the
center of this process of meaning-makingdepends on the way that the different groups
adjust to each other over time. In some instances, the older interpretation of the artifacts
is retained, albeit in a modified form, although the old interpretation can also disappear
from view entirely.
Conflicts arising from contradictory allegiances to a given symbol are most apparent
in the case of sacred sites, hermitages and other locations that are venerated by the local
populace and whose origins date back to pre-Christian times. For instance, in the case of
the Abbey of Odile, in times past more than one figure appears to have been venerated,
one being the officially recognized Christian saint, and the other a pre-Christian ursine
being, incarnate in the silent stone figure of a bear. In this way, the continued presence of
the bearwhose figure was placed near the crypt of the official saint of the Abbey
would be an example of a compromise, a solution that resulted from a situation of
contested ritual agency.
Other related examples have been collected by Clbert who also discovered a curious
custom associated with the church of Orcival: les portes de l'glise taient recouvertes
de peaux dours tus dans la region (Clbert 1968: 326). Clbert alludes to another
custom that is of interest to us: the association of certain sacred sites with saints named
 34

Saint Ours (Saint Bear). He also mentions hagiographic traditions dating back to fifth
century Europe that concern bishops and other shadowy figures also called Saint Ours
and who sometimes are said to have founded monasteries:
Il n'y a en France que trois Saint-Ours officiels (des communes, je ne relve pas les hameaux): un prs
de Meyronnes dans les Basses-Alpes, un prs de Ponte-gibaud dans le Puy-de-Dme, un prs dAlbens
en Savoie. On remarquera tout de mme que tous trois se trouvent en territoire sauvage. Mais il y a
aussi plusieurs Saint-Urcisse (ou Urcize) (Tarn, Lot-et-Garonne, Cantal) dont le patron est Ursicinus,
ermite bizarre tabli sur les bords du Doubs et vnr en Suisse Saint-Ursanne, o, dans la grotte de
lermitage, il est reprsent couch, un ours ses pieds. Comme sainte Ursule, vnre Ble... On ne
trouve, dans lhagiographie officielle, pas moins de six saints Ours, dont trois furent franais: un vque
de Troyes, qui florissait au Ve sicle, un vque d'Auxerre du temps de Clovis, et un abb de
Touraine qui au Ve sicle fonda le monastre de Loches. (Clbert 1968: 326)

The above citation might be glossed as follows:

In France there are only three official Saint Ours [Saint Bear], (I am not listing the non-official ones
found in hamlets): one near Meyronnes in the Basses-Alpes, one near Ponte-gibaud in le Puy-de-Dme,
and one near Albens in Savoy. At the same time one notes that all three of them are found within
wilderness areas. Moreover, there are also many Saint Urcisse (or Urcize) (in Tarn, Lot-et-Garonne,
Cantal) whose patron saint is Ursicinus, a bizarre hermit who established himself on the banks of the
Doubs River and who is venerated in Switzerland at Saint Ursanne, where, in the grotto of the
hermitage, he is represented lying down with a bear at his feet. Like Saint Ursule, who is worshipped at
Ble... In the official hagiography there are at least six Saint Ours, of which three were French, a bishop
from Troyes who flourished in the fifth century, a bishop from Auxerres from the time of Clovis, and
an abbot from Touraine who in the fifth century founded the monastery of Loches.

Whether any of these monasteries also housed bears as was done at the Abbey of Andlau
is not known.
In sum, the presence of hermitages dedicated to bear-like saints provides an additional
avenue for identifying a substratum of popular belief in a more primitive bear-deity in
this part of Europe. Taken alone and, therefore, in isolation from other evidence, these
sites could be interpreted in many different ways. However, when other converging lines
of evidence are brought into view, the logical conclusion seems to be that residual belief
in the older bear-deity has survived in the material and linguistic artifacts associated with
these sites. Furthermore, the geographical distribution of these sites could be brought into
play as a way of mapping the locations of sacred sites, albeit tentatively, where the
veneration of bears was once practiced.
In this respect, I would like to bring up two other examples of solutions that have
resulted from complex processes of contested ritual agency in which the indigenous role
of the bear has been altered as a result of contacts with a new religious narrative. Both
examples come from outside Europe and are described by Labb (1903: 231) in his work
on Bear Ceremonialism among Altaic peoples. First, there is the case of the Mongols:
De pauvres Mongols, qui pratiquent la religion bouddique, m'ont dit que lHomme-
Dieu, incarnation vivante de Bouddha, vit dans un monastre du Thibet, et lve un ours,
 35

dont il coute les conseils (Concerning the poor Mongols, who practice the Buddhist
religion, they have told me that the Man-God, the living incarnation of Bouddha, lives in
a monastery in Tibet, and raises a bear who gives him advice).23 This scenario is quite
similar to the one we have just documented where the bear is portrayed as el perro de
Dios, as if it were a subservient figure. Yet at the same time, it is the treatment of the
bear that determines whether the soul enters heaven. That is, whereas the bear sits beside
St. Peter, and is therefore inserted into a Christian narrative, because of the way it is
portrayed, the bear still retains the authority assigned to it in the earlier symbolic order.
The second example cited by Labb shows a more disturbed or disrupted situation
with respect to the value attributed to the earlier ursine belief system. Rather than still
retaining his ritual autonomy, the bear has been demoted. That process of demotion might
also reflect the socio-political and economic inequalities experienced or at least sensed by
the indigenous population in question vis--vis the outsiders, the proponents of the new
symbolic regime. Labb speaks of the Orotchones, a small tribe occupying a zone of
eastern Siberia along the Upper Amour river Amour, and how they recontextualized the
indigenous norms of their Bear Ceremonialism: Certains Orotchones considrent lours
comme un dieu dchu, qui fut vaincu par un dieu plus fort (Some Orotchones consider
the bear a fallen god, who was conquered by a stronger god) (1903: 231).24
All of the above examples of merged imagery appear to contain a level of
contradiction and ambiguity which probably masks past tensions between opposing
groups of ritual specialists and conflicting allegiances to very different cosmological
systems, one that was animistic and yet another that tended to portray the divinity in
human form. While there are many factors that lead to the retention or rejection of
indigenous norms, the survival of the older meanings seems to be related to the level of
significance assigned to the symbolic artifacts themselves in terms of their role as
markers of identity for the group in question. Generally speaking, the more a groups
identity is invested in a given artifact, the more likely it is that the artifact in question and
the symbolism attached to it will be respected, even viewed as something sacred. And,
consequently, the more resistant it becomes to change. Thus, the better chance there is
that the symbols older meaning(s) will survive, albeit in slightly modified but still
recognizable form.
Moreover, those who remain most attached to the older cultural networkwhose lives
and/or livelihoods are most closely linked to itare most likely to be those whose belief

23
Here the phrase pauvres Mongols refers to the sad state of the Mongols, their misfortune.
24
Cf. Bayley (1994) for other historically attested examples of contested ritual agency.
 36

system more clearly reflects the tenets of the older system. This appears to be the case
with: 1) Dominique and Petiri Prbende interviewed in 1983; 2) the two Basque Basques
with their trained bear interviewed in 1891; and 3) perhaps more importantly, at least in
the context of this study, the way that the older system has been kept in the performance
art associated with the Basque Mamoxaurres, Momutxorros, Marraus, etc. and the
Sardinian Mamutzones. In both instances, the resilience of the performances has been
controlled by the conceptualization of their centrality to processes of identity formation
and the felt need to reaffirm that identity, although in a few locations there is an incipient
tendency to orient performances not to the community itself, but rather to outsiders, as a
way to attract tourists (and their money) to the town.

The Bear Son and Hamalau Fourteen

Extensive fieldwork conducted over the past thirty years in the Basque region of the
Pyrenees led to the discovery of the existence of an archetypal hero, half-bear, half-
human, called Hartzkume in Basque whose name means Little Bear and a set of stories
that narrates his exploits. The name Hartzkume derives from hartz bear and (k)ume
infant, baby, little one, literally translated, bear-baby. In the eastern dialects of
Basque, the main character is also known as Hartzko (Harzko), Little Bear, a
diminutive form of hartz bear which we mentioned earlier in reference to the magic
powers of badger paws.
But what concerns us here is other name by which this character is known,
specifically, Hamalau which, quite curiously, translates as Fourteen. When I began
doing fieldwork in the Euskal Herria, some thirty years ago, my focus was on exploring
various aspects of traditional Basque culture, including Basque metrological practices.
That line of ethnomathematical research led me to realize that certain Basque numbers
had connotations that struck me as, frankly, rather bizarre, especially the expression
hamalau which means fourteen, a compound composed of hama(r) ten and lau
four. Later I would discover that the term hamalau was used in a variety of settings, not
merely as the name of a character in a folktale. In short, I stumbled across Hamalau and
the ursine cosmogony quite accidently.
Because of the way that the Basque linguistic data, collected through field work and
interviews with Basque-speaking informants, ended up providing important information
concerning the meanings associated with term Hamalau, I will lay out the discovery
process that led ultimately to the revelation of the belief in bear ancestors and the ursine
cosmogony itself. At the same time, I have chosen to provide this more detailed narrative
of the discovery process, rather than a mere summary of its results, in order to illustrate
 37

the means by which similar linguistic information embedded in Sardu might also be
recuperated, by paying close attention to the socio-cultural embedding of the words
themselves.
When first I began to analyze the semantic field surrounding the word hamalau, I was
confronted with a very diverse set of meanings. First, I would emphasize that my
fieldwork was done in the province of Gipuzkoa. There I discovered, initially, that for
many native-speakers of Basque the number fourteen refers to the notion of infinity.
For example, one informant indicated that hamalau was the greatest number that could be
imagined, even though the individual in question worked as an industrial engineer for a
large corporation, that is, he was someone who dealt with large numbers and Western
mathematics on a daily basis. In fact, the association of the word hamalau with the notion
of infinity, or at least the use of fourteen to refer to an infinite amount of something,
appears to have been relatively commonplace among speakers of the Gipuzkoan dialect
of Basque (Perurena 1993: 265-280).
It was soon obvious to me that whatever the connotations were for the word
fourteen, they werent restricted to its meaning as a number. It was something that a
person, a least a male person, could compare himself to, and in this case, in a positive
sense. Moreover, there was an additional problem with this aspect of my research: I soon
discovered that the term hamalau was being used with unfamiliar and unexpected
referents. Indeed, the first time I heard the following exchange between two elderly
males, both native-speakers of Basque, I was taken aback:
Zer moduz? (How are you?).
Ondo, hamalau bezain ondo! (Good. Just as good as fourteen)
After that incident, I kept my ears pealed and soon afterwards I came across another
example: Zein uste du, hamalau alkandoraz? (Who does he think he is, fourteen
with a shirt on?). This exchange allowed me to perceive another aspect of the term:
whatever it referred to, the being in question didnt normally wear human clothes.
(Urbeltz 1994: 315-316).
In 1991, Antxon Ezeiza, a Basque filmmaker, offered other examples. Although
Antxon was not himself a Basque-speaker, his mother was. Nonetheless, she spoke to her
son in Spanish. He recalled that she would use the word hamalau to reprimand him when
he was misbehaving. Antxon recalled the context in which this occurred as follows: S,
ahora me acuerdo. De nio me madre sola regaarme diciendo: Qu te crees?
Hamalau? (Yes, now I remember. When I was a child my mother used to scold me
saying: Who do you think you are? Hamalau?). Another common expression that she
 38

used was: Todos los vizcanos se creen hamalau (All the people from Bizkaia think
they are hamalau) (Ezeiza 1991). In order to understand the implications of her words
we need to recall the following: Antxons mother was from the province of Gipuzkoa, a
province with a predominantly rural Basque-speaking population. Traditionally
Biscayans (especially people from the metropolitan area of Bilbao) have been stereotyped
by Gipuzkoans as people who exaggerate and think they are superior to the rest of the
Basques. Thus, her words refer to a kind of friendly rivalry that exists between
Gipuzkoans and their neighbors to the west, the inhabitants of Bizkaia.
Because of the contexualization of the word in these examples, I could see that the
term was had to refer to someone who held a position of authority and therefore inspired
respect. Therefore, when someone was putting on airs, pretending he was more important
than he really was, the term was used ironically: Who does he think he is, fourteen? In
other words, the individual in question was acting inappropriately, that is, in an arrogant
fashion. Stated differently, the person was attributing to himself powers that were not his,
acting as if he were in a position to exercise authority over others, that he was more
important than the others when he was not. Further research demonstrated that all of
these sayings represent linguistic residue, fossilized semantic traces linked to the earlier
ursine cosmology that centered on the Bear Ancestor as well as to socio-culturally
situated practices.
Returning now to the topic of the sequence of events that led to discovery process
itself, once I was finally convinced that in addition to referring to a number, the word
hamalau had to refer to a human-like creature, or at least human enough to be used as a
term of comparison for human beings, I began asking Gipuzkoan speakers if they could
describe Hamalau to me. This approach turned up another significant piece of evidence.
One of my informants offered the following description: Hamalau is kind of a clown, a
trickster of sorts, who eats and drinks a lot and has a good time. He is also bigger and
stronger than most men25. Eventually, the explanation for this last characterization of
Hamalau would come clearly into view.
When interviewing one of my Basque informants, she said this characterization of
Hamalau as a larger than regular humans, as a kind of glutton, eating and drinking to his
fill, had a simple explanation: that Hamalau was the main character in a Basque folk tale,
although not one that everyone remembered anymore. She told me that in the tale
Hamalau is portrayed as half-bear and half-human and, as such, he is much bigger and
stronger than other children; and when he grows up he is a voluminous eater (as are all

25
Cf. Perurena (1993: 265-280) for many additional examples.
 39

bears especially in the late summer) and because of his mixed-parentage he is endowed
with superhuman strength. Naturally, this is because in the stories, Hamalaus father is a
Great Bear while his mother is a human being.
Finally, I should cite the conclusion reached by Patziku Perurena, another researcher
who has done extensive work on the word fields and connotations of Basque numbers,
especially fourteen. In a radio interview, dating from 2000, he stated that perhaps the
best interpretation of the figure of Hamalau would be to compare him to the Christian
notion of God. In short, Perurena suggested that Hamalau might be understood best in
following way: that for Basques this creature was their pre-Christian deity (Hamalaua,
gure Jaingo Fourteen, our god). His conclusion was based, in part, on the remarkable
attributes that the number fourteen has in terms of its infinite nature and
omnipotence as well as the related socio-cultural embedding of Hamalau in Basque
folk belief (Perurena 1993: 265; 2000).
Although outside the scope of this preliminary discussion of the connotations of the
term hamalau, I would mention in passing that there is also other evidence for the socio-
cultural situatedness of the term, namely, that the term hamalau formed in part of the title
of an actual judicial official, the Hamalau-zaingo, whose duties included watching over
the community in question. In other words, this individual was charged with keeping
track of those members of the community who misbehaved in some way, violating the
communitys norms. In the case of Zuberoa, the individual who held this office even had
immunity from prosecution as indicated in the law codes from the same zone: Rubrique
II, Art. VI: 'Nul homme auquel tombe la charge de fermance vesialre qui au langage du
pays est appel sainhoa ou zaingoa, ne puet tre jug en la cour de Lixarre ni en autre
cour de Soule (No man to whom the office of fermance vesialre falls, [an office] that
in the language of the country is called sainhoa or zaingoa, can be judged in the court of
Lixarre or in any other court of Soule [Zuberoa]) (Haristoy 1883-1884: 384-385).
Speaking of the office of zaingoa Haristoy adds that:
Les besiau vesain (vecini) dsignaient les habitants d'une localit, vivant sous le mme rgime et
constituant la communaut. Le fermance (en basque bermea caution) veizalre ou vezalire tait la
cautin communnaie: charge hrditaire que faisait de celui que en tait investi le responsable des
autres voisins, le surveillant, l'huissier de la communaut. (Haristoy 1883-1884: 383 ftnote)

Haristoys discussion can be glossed as follows: The besiau vesain (neighbors)

referred to the inhabitants of a given locality, living under the same regime [legal code or
form of government] and constituting the communaut [community]. The fermance (in
Basque bermea [security, bail, bond, collatoral]) veizalre or vezalire was the cautin
communnaie [a charge relating to the exercise of oversight or supervision with respect to
 40

the other members of the community], a hereditary office that made the individual who
was invested with it the one who was responsible for [monitoring the behavior of] the
other neighbors, [the person acted as] a guardian or inspector, as the bailiff of the
community [watching out for infractions of communal norms and law]. Other evidence
suggests that this office was not originally hereditary, but rather was renewed annually
and rotated through the households making up the community or auzoa. Furthermore,
there is reason to believe that among the duties that fell to the Hamalau-zaingoa was that
of acting as a kind of judge, determining the seriousness of the infraction or crime and
perhaps also imposing the appropriate punishment and seeing that it was carried out.

Bear Ceremonialism and the Bear Son narrative

Although I initially believed that the Bear Son narrative was restricted to the Pyrenean
region, subsequent research revealed a very different reality. The figure of the Bear Son,
born of a Great Bear and human female, far from being exclusive to the Pyrenean zone, is
identified with a cycle of stories and related ritual performances found throughout Europe
(Cosquin 1887: 1-27).26 The latter performances include what are called good-luck
visits. Variants of these visits and related ritual practices have survived surprisingly
intact into the 21st century. Indeed, they form part of rich legacy of popular performance
art whose cognitive roots and cultural conceptualizations reach back to a much earlier
worldview that draws its meaning from what now appears to be an archaic pan-European
belief that humans descended from bears: that bears are our ancestors (Frank 2005b). As
we shall see, the good luck visits themselves have acted as a vehicle for the cultural
storage and preservation as well as the oral transmission of the tenets of the earlier
European belief system, through reiterative mechanisms typical of oral cultures.
The Bear Son tales represent the most common motif found in European folklore
(Cosquin 1887: 1-27; Espinosa 1946-1947: 499-511; 1951; Fabre 1968; Frank 1996,
2007). While folklorists did not recognize the significance of the European stories in
terms of their possible linkage to this much older ursine cosmogony, the widespread
distribution of the Bear Son tales eventually did catch their eye. And while the tales have
not been an object of serious investigation by ethnographers and anthropologists, by the
end of the 19th century folklorists were taking a second-look at them. However, at that
time they focused their efforts mainly on the task of classifying the motifs and variants
that showed up in them (Cosquin 1887).

26
As stated, the pan-European hero is known as Hartzkume, Hartzko and Hamalau in Euskara, while he goes
by the name of Juan el Osito in Spanish, Jean l'Ours in French, Giovanni l'Orso in Italian, Hans Br in
German and Ivanuska in Slavic languages.
 41

By 1910 Panzer had documented 221 European variants of the 301story type, the
descent of the Bear Son hero to the Under World (Panzer 1910). In a study published in
1959, 57 Hungarian versions of the tale are mentioned (Kiss 1959) and in 1992, Stitt, in
his study Beowulf and the Bear's Son: Epic Saga, and Fairytale in Northern Germanic
Tradition, recorded 120 variants of the Bear Son story for Scandinavia alone (Stitt 1995).
The cycle of oral tales is present in all the Indo-European language groups of Europe as
well as in Basque and in Finno-Ugric languages, e.g., in Finnish and Saami and also in
Magyar (Hungarian) and it is even among the Mansi (Voguls). Moreover, the most
complete and least disturbed versions of the talesones containing the most archaic
structural elementscome from former Basque-speaking zones of France and the Spain
or from the Basque-speaking region itself. In short, generally speaking, a cline from west
to east can be detected in the tales with the most archaic variants being found in western
Europe, especially in the Pyrenean zone and its immediate environs. Nonetheless,
throughout Europe still today we encounter abundant examples of the cultural practices
and performance art that implicate the previous veneration of bears and the bear ancestor.
The widespread distribution of the motif is best understood once we recognize that we
are dealing with relatively archaic materials emanating from this much earlier European
cosmology, this earlier European story of human origins. In fact, for Europe there is
reason to suspect that the Bear Ancestor, progenitor of humans, was linked symbolically
to the Great Bear (Ursa Major) constellation (Frank 1996, in press-a; Frank and Arregi
Bengoa 2001; Shepard 1995, 1999; Shepard and Sanders 1992).
Paul Shepard has referred to this earlier worldview as a kind of trophic metaphysics
where the complex network of food-chain relations is understood and articulated in
narrative and social practice. Furthermore he has suggested that initially the image of
Ursa Major, the sidereal bear, was projected on the upper world as the mythic celestial
equivalent of these relations in the earthly world (Shepard 1995: 6; 1999: 92-97). Gary
Snyder, on the other hand, speaks of the process of re-inhabitation where the separation
and alienation between human and animal is removed; the dichotomy between man and
nature is erased and the boundaries between culture and nature become ambiguous
(Snyder 1990: 155-174; 1995). In sum, the assumption that we descend from bears
ruptures more familiar modern day hierarchical and anthropocentric modes of thought,
e.g., that man is superior to beasts (Frank 2003, 2005b; Hartsuaga 1987).

Residual Bear Ceremonialism in Europe

Evidence for the residual practice of Bear Ceremonialism in Europe is demonstrated in
many forms, including ritual reenactments of the bear hunt and folkloric performances
 42

portraying scenes from the Bear Son saga itself (Alford 1930, 1937). Perhaps the most
elaborate reenactments of the bear hunt are found today in the Pyrenean-Cantabrian zone
and, I should emphasize, also in Sardinia. In the Pyrenean region, the performances held
each year in Arles-le-Tech are probably the most structurally complex, leaving aside the
complexity of the Basque Maskaradak of Zuberoa.27 However, there are a number of
other locations in the Pyrenean-Cantabrian zone where ritual bear hunts and/or
performances involving a bear actor take place each year.

Fig. 18. Sites of Candlemas Bear Day celebrations in the Pyrenes. Source: Gastou (1987: 20).

27
In making this statement, I would note that the Basque Maskaradak performance does not include any
direct reference to a bear hunt, although it has kept many other elements that seem to have been lost or
misplaced in the Arles-le-Tech performances, most significantly the complexity of the dances themselves
and their musical accompaniment, a topic that will be taken up at a later date.
 43

Fig. 19. Winter Bear Carnival Sites in Cantabria, Spain. Source: Molina Gonzlez & Vlez Prez
(1986: 134)

In similar folk performances found across much of Europe, the Bear Son intermediary
often appears dressed as a bear (Frank in press-a). As noted, ritual bear hunts are still
performed in the Franco-Cantabrian region and the Pyrenees, where today they are acted
out publicly during the period of Winter Carnival.28 For example, in Andorra the Festa de
lOssa is celebrated both on December 26 and during Spring Carnival (Praneuf 1989: 62).
The Bear Festivals appear to be reenactments of real bear hunts that took place in
times past: a ritual celebration of them. In other words they are performances that could
be interpreted as portrayals of the hunting, death and resurrection of the earthly bear who,
in turn, was seen as an ancestor. Earthly bears needed to be treated with great respect
since the primordial bear (ancestor) was also seen as the keeper of souls. There is a
Pyrenean belief that in the Fall of the year the bear gathers up the souls of all creatures of
nature, and puts them in its belly (womb) where they are kept until Spring when they
emerge once again. If properly treated, the bear releases the animal and plant souls so that
its human offspring can live abundantly. Assigning this function to the bear seems to
correspond to the concept of a supernatural master or guardian spirit of all species of
animals as well as the rest of the natural world, a common belief encountered among
many native peoples (Brightman 2002; Hallowell 1926; Hmlinen in prep.; Sarmela
2006).
There is also evidence that upon its death, the earthly bears soul was sent back to
heaven so that it could report to a higher authority, a kind of Celestial Bear figure,
concerning the behavior of its human offspring. A positive report card guaranteed the

28
For a discussion of similar public re-enactments and good luck visits conducted on Candlemas Bear Day
(February 2) and understood to form part of the World Renewal Ceremonies associated with the Spring
Carnival period, cf. Frank (2001).
 44

health and well being of the Celestial Bears human descendants. If the ceremonies were
properly performed, in the Spring of the year the bones of the earthly bear would take on
flesh anew in the form of bear cubs; and, as has been mentioned, the souls of all the other
beings would be released by the bear (or perhaps by the Celestial Bear itself) in the
Spring when it awoke from hibernation (Chiclo 1981; Elgstrm and Manker 1984; Fabre
1968; Lebeuf 1987; Tiberio 1993).
Hence, there was a highly interactive and yet very practical component embedded in
the ursine belief system and the social practices emanating from it. The celebration of
ritual huntsincluding ritual performances that mimed the huntwas a way of insuring
that the community would enjoy good luck (and good hunting) during the rest of the year.
Similarly, the celebration of an abbreviated form of the ritual performance was part of the
good-luck visit itself, where the performers would go from one farmstead to the next
with their bear or would move through the streets of the village, stopping at designated
locations to perform the same play. The latter regularly involves the bear dancing about,
chasing and attacking the inhabitants, then being captured and killed; sometimes the
instrument used in the play is a gun, in other cases a knife or a spear. The important part
comes next. The bear feigns its own death, falling down on the ground, but almost
immediatelyand on cueit jumps up (resurrected) to begin dancing once again. And
the troop moves on to the next house.
At this juncture, I should mention that in many cases, the performance is concluded
with a ribald and often biting social critique of those present (as well as local authorities
and other entities who exercise power or attempt to exercise power over the community).
In Basque, this element is called the predika. Moreover, the social critique that is built
into this part of the performance seems to be analogous to another central element of
Bear Ceremonialism, as it has been documented among circumpolar peoples. It was
believed that if they treated the earthly bear with respect, killed it and honored it
properly, disposing of its bones in the proper fashion, when the earthly bears soul
reached heaven, it would give the Celestial Bear a positive report. If not, as the Basque
bear-trainers suggest, the consequences could be dire.
In times past, the good luck visits were clearly understood to have specific purposes
and to confer benefits on the individual households that were visited and on community
as a whole, (Giroux 1984).29 For instance, they were perceived as having a cleansing,
healing or otherwise prophylactic function. Therefore, they were considered of
fundamental importance: they guaranteed the health and well being of the household

29
For a detailed discussion of the typology of the good luck visits, cf. Halpert (1969).
 45

visited and all its inhabitants. At the same time, the good luck visits acted as a complex
mechanism for inculcating and reinforcing the importance of proper behavior, i.e., of
behaving according to the tenets of Bear Ceremonialism itself. Thus, there was a
pedagogical component involved in such visits.30
Far from being restricted to the Pyrenean region, in other parts of Europe, as we have
noted, once at their destination the Bear actor and his helpers, along with the other
masked figures, perform a kind of an abbreviated play in which the bears hunt, death and
resurrection are often reenacted, even though the meaning of the play is not always
entirely clear to all of the participants. In some cases a rather raucous report critiquing the
householders behavior is read or sung by a member of the troupe of actors and
musicians.31 Afterwards, the actors are treated to food and drink by their hosts.32
Traditionally, the latter passion play was reenacted before each farmstead (or even
inside it) as an integral part of a cleansing ritual intended to protect the family, animals
and crops from harm throughout the rest of the year.
One of the reasons behind the performances is the fact that the motley crew of masked
actors along with their live bear or a man dressed as a bear was (is) believed fully capable
of carrying away with them the maladies and misfortunes of their patients (Frank 1996;
Vukanovitch 1959).33 In the case of the Pyrenean-Cantabrian region, this belief is still
alive and well. And at the same time the singing of a social critique is an integral part of
the village-wide performances, e.g. in the Vijanera Winter Carnival, in Sili, Cantabria, 34

30
As is well known, veiled, even overt forms of social protest were frequently associated with the tricks
carried out on All Hallows night and during the Christmas mumming season when the performances
were utilized as a mechanism for enforcing community norms of behavior and an opportunity to punish
those who digressed with relative impunity. Certainly, the butt of these satires was often the Church and
civil authorities, a fact that brought about repeated ecclesiastical and civil condemnations of the mummers
and their plays (Alford 1930; Caro Baroja 1965; Halpert 1969; Le Roy Ladurie 1979; Miles [1912] 1976;
Szwed 1969).
31
For a discussion of contemporary samples of such reports, cf. Fabre (1968) and Fernndez de Larrinoa
(1997).
32
For additional bibliography and a discussion of modern versions of the performance, cf. the collection of
essays in Halpert and Story (1969).
33
Some of the most archaic versions of these performances have survived in the Pyrenean region. Among
them, the Basque Maskaradak is undoubtedly the most complete performance piece in terms of its robust
repertoire of dances, songs and associated characters, although the bear hunt motif is now missing. The
prototypical performance piece where the bear feigns death, is resurrected and dances once more, also
appears to have a somewhat more learned counterpart in the English Mummers Play and Morris Dances, in
the St. George dramas and Soulers Play, performed on or near All Souls Day, as well as in the
continental St. Nicholas plays. The German St. Nicholas plays appear to be more Christianized and
sophisticated forms of the prototypical folk-drama in question (Alford 1978; Bishop in prep.; Halpert 1969;
Miles [1912] 1976: 298-301; Siefker 1997).
34
The social critique which is sung at the Vijanera bear festival can be seen in the following video which
documents the festival itself as well as the singing of satirical coplas at the end:
http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=vijanera&hl=en&sitesearch=#ADD LINKS.
 46

while in the Basque region of Zuberoa, the proclamation or predika is read at the
conclusion of the Maskaradak. And in Sardinia, a similar set of beliefs and ritual
practices have survived well into the 21st century in which the death and resurrection of
the bear, sUrtzu, plays a prominent role (Fois 2002a).35

Fig. 20. Scene of the death before resurrection of sUrtzu. Source: Fois (2002).

In summary, it was believed that the earthly bears report served to inform the
Celestial Bear of the details of the behavior of its human offspring. A positive report card
guaranteed the health and well being of the Celestial Bears human descendants. If the
ceremonies were properly performed, in the spring the bones of the earthly bear would
take on flesh anew in the form of bear cubs, while the souls of all the other beings would
be released by the bear in the spring when it awoke from hibernation, thus guaranteeing
an abundant food supply for all (Chiclo 1981; Elgstrm and Manker 1984; Fabre 1968;
Lebeuf 1987; Tiberio 1993). In this way, by closing the good-luck visit with a social
critique, the latter served to reinforce the traditional norms and values of the community
in question.

Celestial imagery: Death and Resurrection

Before concluding this section, I would like to address a final point: the celestial
imagery associated with the birth of the primordial bear among Nordic populations,

35
More detailed discussion of the different variations on this theme can be found in the Sardinian
performances, (cf. Associazione Pro-Loco di Mamoiada [n.d.]; Naseddu 2002).
 47

particularly Finno-Ugric speaking groups and the way that this imagery can be
compared to the European materials we have discussed so far. Also, there is the issue of
how this celestial origin impacts the concept of the earthly bears death and
resurrection.

Fig. 21. Geographic span of Uralic languages today. Source: http://www.verbix.com/languages/ugric.asp.

As Sarmela has observed:

In the mythologies of many Nordic peoples, the bear was believed to be of celestial origin, even the son
of a god []. The bear appears as the original hero of nature, with a kind of a special position among
other animals, or it has been the embodiment of the supernatural guardian spirits of the forest [].
Ritual bear hunting is likely to have begun from a myth of the bears birth, which in Finland has
survived as a verse in old metre. (Sarmela 2006)

The narratives relating to the birth of the Finno-Ugric bear justify the structure and
symbolism of the rituals that have been observed by Finno-Ugric peoples, including the
obligation to facilitate the return of the bears soul back to heaven. The extant Finnish
birth poems are usually brief, but contain the fundamental motifs of the narrative,
 48

namely, that the bear was born in the sky above, in Ursa Major, and was sent down to
earth. Some variants describe how the bear was lowered to the top of a pine or spruce
tree in a cradle suspended from golden chains (Sarmela 2006).
Similar stories and traditions are found among speakers of Ugric languages. Data
available from the Ob River people of Siberia, a population speaking languages distantly
related to Hungarian,36 demonstrate a wide variety of ritual activities reflecting a deeply
ingrained belief in Bear Ceremonialism. In this region bear shamanism is still practiced
along with ritual song and dance in honor of their supreme deity Numi-torum, often
conceived as an ursine being, a Celestial Bear, and his delegate to the world, Little Bear
(Aleskseenko 1968; Klmn 1968; Milkovsky 1993; Shepard and Sanders 1992). Among
the Khanty (Ostyaks), hunting the earthly representative or incarnation of the Celestial
Bear is still done for real, rather than being purely ceremonial and/or pantomimed as it is
today in other parts of Europe, particularly in the Pyrenean-Cantabrian zone where the
brown bear (Ursus arctos) is on the verge of extinction (Dendaletche 1982; Mabey 2007;
Peillen 1986).37
For this reason, of particular interest are the narratives of Finno-Ugric peoples. The
Finns, Khanty (Ostyaks) and Mansi (Voguls) tell a story of the earthly bear's origin on a
cloud near the Great Bear constellation. The bear comes down to earth to establish the
Brenfest ceremony, and then returns to the sky. Like other bears since then, which are
killed, the bears spirit was to be sent home in accordance with the ceremony that it had
taught humans at the beginning of time (Shepard and Sanders 1992: 62). In a fashion
reminiscent of the actions attributed to the main character of the Finno-Ugric tale, we
find that in the Basque version, one day when Father Bear goes out to hunt, Little Bear
manages to remove the stone blocking the entrance to the bear cave, breaking the lock so
to speak, and he then heads off to explore the outer world, but without the explicit
permission of his father, the Great Bear.
In the Khanty sacred tale, there is an explicit spatial dimension to the tale, a vertical
axis so that when the tale begins the main character, a bear cub, is portrayed as inhabiting

36
Along with Hungarian, these two language groups, Khanty and Mansi, make up the Ugric (or Yugric)
branch of the Finno-Ugric family. Geographically speaking, the Hungarian language also originated from
the same area, the southern Ural Mountains.
37
One of the unanswered questions concerns the origins of the dancing bear and its human counterpart, the
actor who dresses as a bear. A simplistic response would to be for us to assume the following: at some
point in the past people started to capture bear cubs and raise them to perform healing ceremonies and then
later when bears were no longer easily available the custom of having humans dress up as bears came into
fashion. While this explanation might seem an obvious solution to the enigma, other evidence suggests that
there was a shamanic component in the ursine ritual performances and consequently, dressing as a bear
might well date back to much earlier epochs and to a hunter-gatherer world view. This topic will be treated
in depth in later chapters of this study.
 49

a hut in the Upper World. At this point in time bears still lived in heaven. Then, one day
Father Bear goes out on a hunt. While he is absent, the little bear manages to break the
lock on the hut and enters the courtyard of heaven.38 But being an ungainly cub, his paw
sinks deep through the floor of the Upper World, and, looking through the hole, the little
bear glimpses Middle Earth and the people who inhabit it. He is so pleased by what he
sees that he pleads with his father, Numi-torum, to allow him to visit the world below,
and finally convinces him. However, he receives permission only after being instructed
by his father to reward the good people and punish the wicked. He is also told to explain
to humans how to conduct the bear ceremony, letting people how they are to act, and to
communicate to them the meaning of ceremonys ritual components (Shepard and
Sanders 1992: 63). Upon its demise, the slain bears soul was said to return home where
it would convey the details of its death and the feast held in its honor to a chief or animal
master, the Guardian of the Animals who, in turn, appears to have been identified with or
otherwise connected to the Celestial Bear.
Shepard summarizes the Khanty beliefs, saying:
For the Ostyaks [Khanty], the bear serves as a delegate from the world of the supernatural, the world
beyond man. The feast of the bear is intended to make clear the connection between the holy places
where the ceremony was performed and heaven itself. By enacting the feast, the Ostyaks ensure that
their souls will wander to that holy spot where the fate of humans is finally decided. In a sense, then,
their lives rest in the hands of the bear. (Shepard and Sanders 1992: 63)

In contrast to the Finno-Ugric mythic traditions, the European Bear Son is born of a
human female and a great bear. When he is seven years old he tells his mother that he
wants to go out into the world, and gains her permission, sometimes saying that he wants
to do so in order to play with human children. After the hero manages to remove the
stone that serves as a lock on the bear cave, he takes off along with his mother, although
soon afterwards she disappears from the story. While in these extant European Bear Son
narratives there is no explicit mention of an association between the Bear Sons father
and a Celestial Bear, there is other evidence that supports such a conclusion, that is, there
are other indications of a residual belief in a celestially conceived ursine deity, e.g., the
dog of God that the two bear-trainers talk about or, for instance, the presence of bear
imagery at sacred sites, alongside Christian saints who have a celestial projection.
Sarmela compares the Finno-Ugric ursine cosmology to religious belief systems found
in other parts of Europe, religions that are characterized, too, by the veneration of a deity
that dies, is buried and then is resurrected.

38
Because of the strong matrifocal nature of Khanty (Ostyak) society, female shamanism was prevalent
(Nahodi 1968). For this reason in the Khanty texts, the figure of Little Bear is actually female rather than
male. There is evidence for a female-oriented interpretation of the European materials, also.
 50

Hunters would have invested their hopes in the bear who was born high in the heavens, descended to
earth, died and was buried, but would be resurrected to live again as the first among all game animals or
perhaps of all creation. The bear living in heaven had to descend and die, like people and all creatures
on earth. [] The bear cult would thus manifest early hunters ideas of immortality, the continuation of
eternal life. Each bear hunting drama would recreate the primeval mythical event and reinforce the
order of life determined at that time, the natural cycle of life [and death]. (Sarmela 2006)

The proper performance of the bear rituals insured the availability of the forest game, and
turned humans into key actors within this cosmic drama. Rather than being passive
bystanders, humans become active participants and their behaviour as individuals is
viewed as directly impacting the material and spiritual well-being of the community as a
whole and, indeed, nature itself.
If we were to view the Finno-Ugric bear rituals in through the prism provided by the
ursine genealogy we have documented in this study, the bear would have been
conceptualized as a form of human being, while for humans the opposite also would have
been true: they would have formed part of bearkind. In short, we find that among these
hunter-gatherer peoples there was no great distinction drawn between man and animals.
The bear may have also been the redeemer of mans resurrection. The hunt drama would
reflect mans struggle to solve the mystery of life and death (Sarmela 2006).

Conclusion: A preview
I would like to conclude this chapter by briefly examining some of wider implications of
the data. First there is the fact that the Basques are distinguished genetically as an
outlier population which added to the distinctiveness of their language (Bauduer,
Feingold and Lacombe 2005; Gamble et al. 2005; Piazza and Cavalli-Sforza 2006;
Semino et al. 2000) points to the possibility that they may have retained traditional
beliefs and ritual performance art that date back to a much earlier cultural regime based
on the belief in the descent of humans from bears. The following map shows the extent of
the Basque-speaking region that can be documented securely at this stage:
 51

Fig. 22. Basque-speaking Zone, first century A.D. Source: Salvi (1973); Bernard & Ruffi (1976)

Similarly, the recognized genetic and cultural isolation of Sardinia, as reflected in the
genetic structure of its population, it status as a genetic outlier (Sanna 2006: 173-184)
as well as certain distinct characteristics of its language, could be an indication that the
Mamutzones and their bear might form part of this more archaic belief system.39 Indeed,
there are remarkable similarities holding between the genetic makeup of Sardinians and
Basques which set them apart from other European populations, that is, in the sense that
they appear to have retained elements of the older European genetic substrate which was
once common to much Europe and which dates back to at least to the Mesolithic if not
the Upper Palaeolithic:
The previously categorized Sardinians, Basques, and Saami outliers share basically the same Y binary
components of the other Europeans. Their peculiar position with respect to frequency is probably a
consequence of genetic drift and isolation. [] Furthermore, a substantial portion of the European gene
pool appears to be of Upper Paleolithic origin, but it was relocated after the end of the LGM [Late
Glacial Maximum], when most of Europe was repopulated. (Semino et al. 2000: 1159)

39
As has been emphasized by Fois ([2002]), one of the most curious aspects of the Sardinian data is the fact
that there is no archaeological record for the indigenous presence of bears on the island. That is, although at
some point bears may have been brought to the island to perform, there were not originally part of the
indigenous fauna of this geographical region of Europe.
 52

Recent work in the field of molecular genetics dealing with the genetic makeup of
populations of European descent, particularly the frequencies of certain Y-chromosomes
(which are transmitted through the male line) and mitochondrial DNA or mtDNA (which
is transmitted through the female line), has suggested that at the end of the Last Glacial
Maximum, there was an expansion of populations out of the Pyrenean-Cantabrian
refugium. Over time these groups moved north and east to repopulate territory that had
been depopulated during previous glaciations. For example, in 1998, Torroni et al. (1998:
1148) proposed the following patterns of repopulation based on the distribution of
haplogroup V.40 As can be appreciated in the figure reproduced below (fig. 23), the limits
proposed for the Pyrenean-Cantabrian refugium overlap closely with boundaries of the
geographical extent of the Basque-speaking zone (as shown in fig. 22).

Fig. 23. Map of Europe depicting the most likely homeland of haplogroup V and its pattern of diffusion.
Source: Torroni et al. (1998: 1148).

Similarities between the populations of the Euskal Herria and Sardinia are also
identified in the case of classic genetic markers of ABO blood types, i.e., the prevalence
of high O blood type (Bauduer, Feingold and Lacombe 2005; Bernard and Ruffi 1976;
Cavalli-Sforza 1988; Piazza et al. 1988; Piazza and Cavalli-Sforza 2006). In summary,
today three populations demonstrate particularly high frequencies of the Y-chromosome

40
The findings of Torroni et al. (1998) are congruent with those of subsequent investigators (e.g., Achilli et
al. 2004; Gamble et al. 2005; Richards et al. 2000; Richards 2003; Rootsi et al. 2004; Rootsi et al. 2006;
Semino et al. 2000).
 53

and mtDNA haplogroups which are associated with the western refugium zone: Basques,
Sardinians and Saami.

Fig. 24. Distribution of ABO in the western part of Europe and the Mediterranean. Source:
Bernard & Ruffi (1976: 671).

In addition to the haplogroup V, work on the subhaplogoups H1 and H3 of haplogroup H

demonstrate similar patterns, as Sanna notes:
Lanalisi della distribuzione degli aplogruppi H (subaplogruppi H1 ed H3) e V del mtDNA (DNA
mitocondriale) confermerebbe la possibilit di un populamento della Sardegna da parte di gruppi umani
provenienti dallarea rifugio Franco-Cantabrica tra il Paleolitico superiore ed il Mesolitico, la diffusione
di H1, H3 e V sarebbe avvenuta allincirca 1012 mila anni fa, mentre lorigine di questi aplogruppi
risalirebbe a 11,516 mila anni fa (Achilli et al. 2004: 914-915). (The analysis of the distribution of
haplogroup H (subhaplogroups H1 and H3) and V of mtDNA (mitochondrial DNA) would confirm the
possibility of Sardinia being populated by human groups coming from the Franco-Cantabrian refugium
zone between the Upper Palaeolithic and the Mesolithic, the diffusion of H1, H3 and V would have
arrived around 10-12 thousand years ago, while the origin of this haplogroup would date back to 11.5-
16 thousand years ago (Achilli et al. 2004: 914-915)). (Sanna 2006: 142)

The putative Sardinian contribution to the prehistoric genetic landscape of Europe and to
attempts at mapping the proposed postglacial population expansions out of the Pyrenean-
 54

Cantabrian refugium has been treated in significant detail by Sanna (2006: 173-184).41
Here I will site only his conclusion:
Dunque, in base agli studi genetici pi recenti e considerando anche i dati scheletrici e culturali,
sembra potersi affermare che i Sardi attuali o quantomeno larga parte di essi discendano da gruppi
umani insediatisi nellIsola tra il Paleolitico superiore ed il Mesolitico. (Therefore, based on the
more recent genetic studies and also taking into consideration skeletal and cultural data, it appears
possible to affirm that the Sardinian people of today or at least a large part of them descend from
populations who settled the Island between the Upper Paleolithic and the Mesolithic.) (Sanna 2006:
140)

In Sannas summary statement he mentions cultural data as well as genetic and skeletal
remains. However, in doing so he is not taking into consideration the possible
significance of the material and cultural artifacts associated with the Mamutzones and
their bear, that is, in terms of their importance as an another method of documenting the
proposed postglacial geographical expansion of populations out of the Pyrenean-
Cantabrian refugium. This working hypothesis will be the explored in far greater depth in
the second part of this investigation.
In summary, when viewed from this perspective the symbolic order that we are
discussing might serve as another type of marker for identifying population movements:
the geographic diffusion of what must be viewed as a hunter-gatherer mentality, centered
on the idea that that humans descended from bears. As we have noted, it is highly
unlikely that such a belief system would have originated among pastoralists and farmers:
it does not have the characteristics one would associate with a Neolithic mindset.42 On
the other hand the ursine cosmology resonates strongly with historically attested hunter-
gatherer cultures in other parts of the world where Bear Ceremonialism has played a
major role in the ecological and religious belief system of the community (Brightman
2002; Sarmela 2006). Consequently, the distribution of artifacts related to the ursine
cosmology could become another mechanism for charting postglacial colonization routes.
Hence, the task of identifying and documenting the locations where ursine
performance art and associated beliefs have survived is particularly important especially
in the case of the more elaborate forms of such performances encountered in the
Pyrenean-Cantabrian zone and locations immediately adjacent to it, e.g., zones in which
Aragonese and/or Catalan are spoken today. These cultural artifacts can then be

41
Cf. also Grimaldi et al. (2001).
42
One of the noteworthy investigations of this Mesolithic to Neolithic cognitive transition is that of Sarmela
(2006). His is one of only a few studies that actually compare the way that the hunter-gatherer mindset is
altered by the arrival of agriculture. Indeed, Samelas observations are especially pertinent for they show
the way that a shift in the mode of sustenance is accompanied by profound changes in social practices,
affecting other parts of the belief system, not just practices and beliefs relating to the way that bears are
treated and hunted.
 55

compared to those found in Sardinia which is the second genetic outlier and finally all
of these cultural survivals can be compared to the much more elaborated forms of Bear
Ceremonialism that have been documented for the Saami, a circumpolar population
where the bear has had an analogous role in the symbolic order.
In this process, the hypothesis put forward by Fois (2002b) concerning the linguistic
similarities between the Sardinian and Basque semantic artifacts becomes central to our
argumentation. In other words, if it can be proven that the same semantic root is shared
by both data sets, i.e., the Basque and the Sardinian ones, then this conclusion becomes a
converging line of evidence for the hypothesis put forward by geneticists. It would
reinforce the assumption that a linguistic and cultural substrate can be identified in
Sardinia that is of significant antiquity.
Moreover, the results of these cross-cultural and cross-linguistic comparisons could
have remarkable implications: they might shed light on preterit patterns of cognition,
cultural conceptualizations and perhaps social organization that until now have not been
accessible to us. They could serve as a means of recuperating complex patterns of
behavior, cultural and social processes that in turn will allow us to reconstruct much
earlier patterns of belief, albeit in a tentative fashion. In short, the careful exploration of
these materials can serve to reveal the socio-cultural and linguistic mechanisms by which
these networks of belief have been transmitted to us, orally and through performance art,
across many millennia.
Therefore, the question comes down to the following: can charting the distribution and
parallels between different types of residual evidence for Bear Ceremonialism among
these three populations provide another type of data by means of which gene flows,
population movements and related social processes proposed by these other disciplines
might be compared, tested and mapped? At this juncture, attempts to reconstruct the
prehistoric landscape of Europe have focused primarily on data drawn from genetics,
archaeology and comparative phlylogeography. Up until now support for the Palaeolithic
Continuity Refugium approach has been constructed using three types of data: 1) the
findings of classic and molecular genetics; 2) archaeology including the distribution of
sites that have been carbon-14 dated; and 3) investigations that have charted the climatic
conditions in Europe.43 To date none of the approaches employed has been able to
develop a methodology that would allow us to move back in time by focusing on extant
cognitive artifacts, e.g., performance art, linguistic remains and residual archaic patterns

43
Palaeolithic Continuity Refugium Theory is the currently subject of a book-length study, cf. Frank (in
prep.-b).
 56

of belief, such as the ursine cosmology and associated artifacts that have been discussed
in this study.
In conclusion, although this topic will be taken up in considerable detail in the next
part of this study (which is scheduled to be published in Insula-4), I felt it was important
at this time to provide the reader with a preview of it and outline, albeit however briefly,
the nature of the hypothesis that will inform subsequent discussions of the material and
cultural artifacts of these three groups, a discussion consisting first of comparisons
between the Basque and Sardinian materials and then of the Saami materials which will
be employed as illustrative of circumpolar Bear Ceremonialism.
Hopefully, this introductory investigation has laid out the basic groundwork for a more
fine-grained analysis of the linguistic data as well as the performances themselves. At this
stage we have explored only a few of the implications resulting from the correspondences
between the Sardinian Mamutzones with their bear and their Basque counterparts. Once
we compared both of these cultural complexes and situated them firmly inside the
interpretive framework of an ursine cosmology, the fundamental tenets of Bear
Ceremonialism came into view and were made much more accessible to the reader. In
this sense, the first step in understanding the meaning of these cultural artifacts has been
for us to learn to move outside of the anthropocentrically-oriented world view that is
conventionally ascribed, quite unconsciously, to this type of European performance art
and to the interpretative codes that until now have been used to decipher its meanings.

Acknowledgements:
I would like to express my sincere appreciation to Graziano Fois and Patrick Mabey for
their suggestions and comments on an earlier draft of this chapter.

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Chapter 2. Frank, Roslyn M. (2008) Evidence in Favor of the Palaeolithic Continuity Refugium Theory
(PCRT): Hamalau and its linguistic and cultural relatives. Part 1. Insula 4 (December 2008), pp. 61-131.
Cagliari, Sardinia. http://www.sre.urv.es/irmu/alguer/

Evidence in Favor of the Palaeolithic Continuity Refugium Theory

(PCRT): Hamalau and its linguistic and cultural relatives
Part 1

Roslyn M. Frank
University of Iowa
E-mail: roz-frank@uiowa.edu

[] the word does not forget where it has been and can never wholly free itself from
the dominion of the contexts of which it has been part.
M. M. Bakhtin (1973: 167)

Everybody says, After you take a bears coat off, it looks just like a human. And they
act human: they fool, they teach their cubs (who are rowdy and curious), and they
remember. Maria Johns
(cited in Snyder1990: 164)

Every language is a vast pattern-system, different from others, in which are culturally
ordained the forms and categories by which the personality not only communicates, but
also analyzes nature, notices or neglects types of relationship and phenomena, channels
his reasoning, and builds the house of his consciousness.
Benjamin Whorf (1956: 252)

1.0 Introduction
In the first chapter of this study we examined the linguistic and structural linkages
holding between Sardinian performers called Mamuthones (Mamutxones) and their
Basque counterparts, e.g., the Momutxorros (Frank 2008c). That examination included a
 62

review of the cosmology associated with the well-documented belief among Basques that
humans descended from bears. In addition, it was asserted that the name of the
prototypical half-human, half-bear ancestor, called Hamalau in Euskara, provides a
semantic anchor for exploring other cognitive artifacts belonging to this same cultural
complex, one infused with the belief in ursine ancestors, and a cosmology that clearly
antedates any Neolithic mindset. Stated differently, I alleged that the animistic nature of
this belief system where the identity of human beings is fused with that of bears harkens
back to the mentality of hunter-gatherers, and hence to the Mesolithic: it is not consonant
with the mindset of a population of pastoral-agriculturalists. In this sense, the cognitive
artifacts and social practices under analysis could date back ultimately to practices and
beliefs of the hunter-gatherers who inhabited the same zone in times past and whose
ursine belief system was not entirely obliterated by the gradual imposition of the socio-
cultural norms of a Neolithic pastoral and agriculturally-based society.
In the final section of the previous study I pointed out the importance of recent work
in the field of molecular genetics dealing with the genetic makeup of populations of
European descent, particularly investigations concerning the frequencies of certain Y-
chromosomes (which are transmitted through the male line) and mitochondrial DNA or
mtDNA (which is transmitted through the female line). The results of these research
initiatives suggest that at the end of the Last Glacial Maximum, there was an expansion
of populations out of the Pyrenean-Cantabrian refugium. Investigations carried out by
teams of geneticists and archaeologists also indicate that these groups gradually moved
north and east to repopulate territory that had been depopulated during previous
glaciations. For example, the patterns of repopulation proposed by Torroni et al. (1998:
1148) and based on the distribution of haplogroup V, radiate out of the geographical zone
defined as the Pyrenean-Cantabrian refugium. Here we shall use the term Palaeolithic
Continuity Refugium Theory (PCRT) to refer to the general approach developed by
researchers who subscribe to this interpretation of the genetic and archaeological data.
 63

Figure 1. Map of Europe depicting the most likely homeland of haplogroup V and its pattern of diffusion.
Source: Torroni et al. (1998: 1148).

The limits of the refugium homeland, in turn, coincide closely with boundaries of the
geographical extent of the historical Basque-speaking zone as best it can be reconstructed
for the first century A.D. (Figure 2).
 64

Figure 2. Basque-speaking Zone, first century A.D. Source: Salvi (1973); Bernard & Ruffi (1976)

Upon closer examination, the map of Torroni et al (1998: 1148) implicates a larger
geographical area than is suggested by the phraseology of the expression: Pyrenean-
Cantabrian refugium. For this reason, our analysis will include representative samples of
linguistic and ethnographic artifacts drawn from this larger geographic area. Stated
differently, the area sampled should include Catalunya, extend westward across Cantabria
and, as we did in the first part of this study (Frank 2008c), bring into focus Sardinian
materials. Furthermore, linguistic and ethnographic survivals relating to the ursine
cosmology in question are not confined to this zone but rather show up in other parts of
Europe, for example, in Germanic-speaking regions of Western Europe, as will become
evident in sections 6.0 and 7.0 of this study when we begin to sample ethnographic and
linguistic artifacts from that region.

2.0 Questions concerning the linguistic landscape of Europe in prehistory

As is well recognized, until the 1990s studies dedicated to modeling the linguistic
landscape of Europe in prehistory concentrated mainly on the problem of locating the
homeland of the Indo-Europeans (i.e., the putative population that once spoke Proto-
Indo-European (PIE) or dialects of an early stage of it) and determining the pathways
they followed. According to this narrative, these speakers moved westward across Europe
and in the process transmitted their Indo-European language(s) to the indigenous
populations that they encountered along the way. The traditional model used by Indo-
European linguists argued that Proto-Indo-European dates back to 4000 BC, and, for
most scholars, e.g., those who subscribed to the Bronze-Age Kurgan theory of Marija
Gimbutas, the migration pattern assigned to the original Indo-European speakers had
them moving across Europe from east to west (Gimbutas 1973). Subsequently, in the
1980s Colin Renfrew introduced a different scenario which moved the time frame back to
the Neolithic and linked the introduction of Indo-European languages to the migration of
farmers who brought, along with their knowledge of agricultural techniques, their
knowledge of Indo-European languages (Renfrew 1987).
More concretely, by shifting the time frame backwards, Renfrews scenario proposed
a migration route that brought groups of Neolithic pastoral-agriculturalists into contact
with Mesolithic hunter-gatherers. Since Renfrews theory has the Proto-IE speakers
moving out of Anatolia, once again the path of migration is by necessity from east to
west. It should be noted, also, that in coming up with his theory, Renfrew was attempting
to integrate genetic evidence concerning the Near Eastern component encountered in
European populations, as set forth earlier by Ammerman and Cavalli-Sforza (1984). In
 65

short, Renfrew traces the Near Eastern genetic componentthe Near Eastern cline
identified among modern populations of European descentback to a cohesive
population of Proto-IE speakers and their descendants, moving across Europe from east
to west.
However, in both versions of the narrative, the scenario put forward by Gimbutas as
well as by Renfrew, the Basques themselves play no explanatory role: they are silent
bystanders. And until recently they did not attract much attention from anyone. Yet when
considering the importance of these Mesolithic populations of Europe, we find that the
Basque region, which was an outlier in the PC [Principal Component] analyses of both
mtDNA and classical markers, has the lowest Neolithic component, at around 7%. The
Basque outlier status may therefore be partly the result of reduced Neolithic penetration,
as well as considerable genetic drift due to isolation and small population size (Richards
2003: 153). Hence, we might view them as more representative of the earlier stratum, that
is, the Basques may be viewed as a kind of Mesolithic relict, more so than any other
European population.
What is perhaps most intriguing about all of these attempts at revising the traditional
IE research paradigm is the way that the most recent findings of molecular genetics are
impacting them; the way that the directional orientation of these migrationist scenarios
might be affected by the genetic data. On the one hand we have the traditional IE
explanatory narrative and its modern variants, e.g., as proposed by Gimbutas and
Renfrew, where the direction of migration is consistently westward with the western and
northwestern parts of Europe being affected last. Renfrews model attempts to link a
hypothetical transmission of IE linguistic artifacts to the progressive Neolithization of
these zones and, therefore, to the archeological record which demonstrates the spread of
agriculture from Anatolia. That expansion period dates back to between 8000 and 9500
years ago.
On the other hand, more recently we have the findings of molecular genetics which set
up a counter-movement. The latter movement is estimated to have taken place toward the
end of the Late Glacial Maximum and consisted of a population expansion into Western
Europe that emanated out of the Pyrenean-Cantabrian refugium, fanning northward and
eastward from the refugium zone (Gamble et al. 2005; Torroni et al. 1998). Because of
the time depth assigned to these waves of out-migration (and contraction) or pulses,
they antedate the hypothetical westward movement of IE speakers out of Anatolia and
eventually into the western extremes of Europe by only a few thousand years (i.e., as in
the thesis put forward by Renfrew). More remarkably perhaps is the fact that the initial
stages of agricultural dispersal out of Anatolia coincide in time with the last pulses of
 66

the population expansions out of the western refugium. Stated differently, we have
evidence of two migration streamstwo types of demic and cultural diffusionmoving
in essentially opposite directions.
Although the significance of the findings of genetics is multifaceted, in the context of
this chapter there are specific aspects of the research that need to be highlighted. As I
mentioned earlier, the Near Eastern genetic component, associated by many investigators
with processes of demic diffusion, is no longer considered to be as statistically significant
as it was when Ammerman and Cavalli-Sforza (1984) first published their results.
Instead, the genetic makeup of Europeans is now viewed as having two main
components, one older than the other. Moreover, as noted, investigators argue that a
major population expansion occurred in Western Europe during the Late Glacial (c. 11-
16,000 years ago) as the ice sheets retreated and unglaciated areas further north became
available for re-settlement.
Phylogeographic analysis using molecular evidence assigns 60% of European mitochondrial DNA
lineages (Richards et al. 2000), and an even higher proportion of Western European Y-chromosome
lineages (Semino et al. 2000) (Semino et al. 2000), to a population bottleneck prior to an expansion
from southwest to northern Europe (Achilli et al. 2004; Pereira et al. 2005; Rootsi et al. 2004;
Torroni et al. 1998; Torroni et al. 2001). (Gamble et al. 2006)

Gamble et al. (2005: 209) sum up the implications of these genetic studies for
Renfrews Anatolian model:
The growing evidence that the major signal in European genetic lineages predates the Neolithic,
however, creates serious problems for the agriculturalist perspective. If western Europe was, to a
large extent, repopulated from northeast Iberia [Pyrenean-Cantabrian zone] then, since place-name
evidence suggests that people in this source region spoke languages related to Basque before the
advent of Indo-European, the obvious corollary would seem to be that the expanding human groups
should have been Basque speakers.

If we take this last statement by Gamble et al. seriously, it elicits to two inter-related
questions. The first was formulated recently by the geneticist Richards (2003: 135),
namely, who are the Europeans? The second one was posed initially in the nineteenth
century: who are the Indo-Europeans? From one point of view, the first question has no
linguistic counterpart. But keeping in mind the recent findings concerning the Pyrenean-
Cantabrian refugium, there is a hint that the Basque language could shed light on these
deeper time depths. In the case of the second question, for most researchers today the
term Proto-Indo-European is no longer conflated with some unified linguistic system;
nor is it equated with some cohesive population of reified speakers, dating back to the
Bronze Age or beyond. For example, Zvelebil and Zvelebil (1988) have emphasized that
Indo-European should be considered to be a construct, not a demonstrable reality for it
is nothing more than a convenient abstraction referring to a set of features that are
 67

assumed to be held in common by IE linguistic systems, a fact that cannot be stressed

enough in the context of this study.
In sum, both prehistoric archaeology and, subsequently, classical population genetics
have attempted to trace the ancestry of modern Europeans back to the first appearance of
agriculture in the continent; however, the question has remained controversial (Richards
2003: 135). As we have noted with respect to evolution of Renfrews model,
[c]lassical population geneticists attributed the major pattern in the European gene pool to the
demographic impact of Neolithic farmers dispersing from the Near East, but archaeological research
has failed to uncover substantial evidence for the population growth that is supposed to have driven
this process. Recently, molecular approaches, using non-recombining genetic marker systems, have
introduced a chronological dimension by both allowing the tracing of lineages back through time
and dating using the molecular clock. Both mitochondrial DNA and Y-chromosome analyses have
indicated a contribution of Neolithic Near Eastern lineages to the gene pool of modern Europeans of
around a quarter or less. This suggests that dispersals bringing the Neolithic to Europe may have
been demographically minor and that contact and assimilation had an important role. (Richards
2003)

In conclusion, there appear to be two narratives with slightly different casts of

characters. In one of them the main characters are the putative Indo-Europeans who
conquer (or colonize) essentially all of Europe, at least linguistically. 44 And in that
scenario the Basques are viewed as unimportant, as nothing more than outsiders. In the
other narrative, supported in particular by the recent findings of molecular genetics, the
Basquesor more precisely those populations ancestral to modern day Basque-speakers
who resided in the Pyrenean-Cantabrian zonebecome major players. In one narrative
we have reified Indo-Europeans invading or homesteading their way across Europe from
east to west; whereas in the other narrativewhose assigned time-depth antedates that of
first narrative by several millenniathe migration pattern moves from west to east. Until
now, the linguistic implications of the reorientation of the axis of migrationfrom west
to eastas well as the much deeper time-depth associated with the narrative have not
been explored.

2.1 Paleolithic Continuity (PC): A third narrative

The possibility that the two narratives are more interwoven than they might appear at first
glance is highlighted by the fact that there is a third competing narrative that emphasizes
the contributions of hunter-gatherers to the linguistic landscape of prehistoric Europe.
Here I am referring to the work of the Italian linguist Mario Alinei and his colleagues,
members of the Working Group on Palaeolithic Continuity theory (Alinei 2004a, b, 2006;

44
This statement refers to the PIE narrative itself rather than to a finer grained analysis of the linguistic
map of Europe, one that would need to take into consideration the documented survival of non-IE
languages as well as Finno-Ugric languages (cf. Frank in prep.-b; Robb 1993; Zvelebil and Zvelebil 1988).
 68

Costa 2001, 2004). First, I would note that the position endorsed by these researchers
does not take into consideration the possible linguistic and cultural significance of the
western Pyrenean-Cantabrian refugium for their model. Rather they address the need to
assign a far greater time-depth to IE languages and in the process they establish a
narrative that calls for a much more in situ explanatory framework for the development of
IE languages, as opposed to one that relies solely on demic and/or cultural diffusion, such
as is the case with Renfrews model.
In this respect, I would emphasize, along with Richards, that in the past the assumed
model of surplus-driven population growth and expansion led both groups [of
researchers, geneticists and archaeologists alike] to tend to play up the role of the
Neolithic newcomers at the expense of the indigenous Mesolithic peoples. After all, it
was the newcomers who had won in the end and that at the deepest level, as Zvelebil
(1996) argues, this amounted to a founding myth for European culture and civilization
that placed extraordinary emphasis on the Neolithica myth that idolizes farmers at the
expense of hunting and foraging ways of life (Richards 2003: 135).
After reviewing criticisms that have been leveled at Renfrews Anatolian theory, e.g.,
in terms of the over emphasis on the Neolithic transition in Europe (Alinei 2004b; Costa
2001; Zvelebil 1995a, b, 1996, 2002; Zvelebil and Zvelebil 1988, 1990), Alinei, one of
the leading proponents of the Teoria della Continuit, makes the following observations:
Su questa base due archeologi (Husler 1998; Otte 1994, 1995) e un linguista (Alinei 1997, 2000),
tutti e tre luno indipendentemente dallaltro, hanno propost unaltra teoria delle origini IE, secondo
la quale gli Indoeuroepei non sarebbero arrivati n dallUcraina come guerrieri n come coltivatori
dal Medio Oriente, ma sarebbero gli eredi delle popolazioni che si trovano in Europa da sempre,
cio da quando, nel Paleolitico Medio, Homo sapiens sapiens, provenendo dallAfrica, si diffuso
nei vari continenti, del Vecchio Mundo. [On this basis two archaeologists (Husler 1998; Otte 1994,
1995) and a linguist (Alinei 1997, 2000), all three independently of the other, have proposed another
theory of IE origins, according to which the Indo-Europeans would not have arrived from the
Ukraine as warriors or as farmers from the Middle East, rather they would be descendents of
populations that were always found in Europe, that is, since, in the Middle Palaeolithic, Homo
sapiens sapiens, coming from Africa, dispersed across various continents of the Old World.] (Alinei
2001)45

He goes on to express an autochthonous thesis for the development of IE languages that

in turn appears to define these putative Indo-Europeans as the indigenous inhabitants of
Europe.
Si assume quindi che gli Indoeuropei siano popolazioni autoctone dellEuropa e dellAsia, cosi
come si ammette che gli Africani lo siano dellAfrica, i Cinesi della Cina, gli Aborigeni australiani
dellAustralia, e cos via dicendo. Di conseguenza, i primi coltivatori del Neolitico provenienti
dallAsia occidentals sarebbero invece non-IE, e il loro contributo linguistico sarebbe stata
lintroduzione di influenze non-IE sulle lingue IE autoctone. [One assumes, therefore, that the Indo-

45
Unless otherwise indicated, all translations of quotations are my own.
 69

Europeans were autochthonous populations of Europe and Asia, as it is admitted that Africans are of
Africa, the Chinese of China, the Australian aboriginals of Australia, etc. Consequently, the first
farmers of the Neolithic coming from western Asia would be, instead, non-IE, and their linguistic
contribution would have been the introduction of non-IE influences on the autochthonous IE
language.] (Alinei 2001)

Although there are different versions of the Teoria della Continuitor as it is referred
to in English, the theory of Paleolithic Continuity (PC), the unifying thread is one that
stresses continuity: that the archaeological and genetic record of Europe does not
demonstrate abrupt transitions or evidence of the intrusion of a cohesive population so
significant that it left a deep imprint in the genome of Europeans. Rather the theory of
Palelolithic Continuity, as its name implies, argues for archaeological and genetic
continuity across time with no significant ruptures so that the last significant incursion of
a new population into this geographical zone from the east would date back to 40,000 BC
or even somewhat earlier to the appearance of modern humans, H. sapiens sapiens.
As a result, the foundational premise of PC theory has a corollary that confronts and
challenges several aspects of the canonical IE narrative, particularly with respect to the
time depth assigned to it. Some proponents of the PC model argue that in order for IE
languages to have achieved the level of differentiation that they already demonstrated
early on (e.g., Sanskrit), a much deeper time depth needs to be assigned to them. That is,
for the languages to have differentiated as much as they already had by the time we
encounter documented evidence for them, i.e., as demonstrated in the earliest attested
sources, at a minimum the clock needs to be set back not merely to the Early Neolithic as
in Renfrews narrative, but rather to the Mesolithic, while the PC approach alleges that
some linguistic features could date back to the Upper Paleolithic (Alinei 2004b; Costa
2001). In short, the PC narrative argues for an essentially in situ development of IE and
for linguistic continuity between these earlier stages and later ones.
By setting up an in situ evolution for IE languages, a curious thing happens with
respect to Western Europe: the Basque language can no longer be classed as pre-Indo-
European, but rather must be seen as evolving alongside IE languages. Naturally, it is
not possible to date the Basque language itself. Nonetheless, most geneticists would
argue that there is every reason to assume that there has been genetic continuity within
the Pyrenean-Cantabrian zone, and therefore, that, as Gamble et al. (2005) have
proposed, at this juncture it might be appropriate to put forward the following hypothesis:
that the language(s) spoken in this zone in prehistory might well have been those that are
ancestral to modern Basque.
In Table 1 we can see how the time-scales of the traditional IE narrative and that of
Renfrew relate to Alineis model of development, specifically as it applies to Italy and
 70

more indirectly to the development of the Romance languages. At the same time, this
model makes no mention of the possible linguistic influence of languages spoken in the
Pyrenean-Cantabrian refugium zone on the development of Proto-IE or the Romance
languages.

Periodo Teoria tradizionale Teoria di Renfrew Teoria della

continuit
Paleolitico Pre-IE Pre-IE PIE
Mesolitico Pre-IE Pre-IE Protoitalico
Neolitico Pre-IE PIE e protoitalico Protolingue italiche;
latino, venetico, osco-
umbro, etc.
Et del Rame PIE e protoitalico Protolingue italiche; Dialetti
latino, venetico, osco-
umbro, etc.
Et de Bronzo Protolingue italiche Dialetti
Et del Ferro Latino, venetico,
osco-umbro, etc.
1 millennio D.C. Dialetti

Table 1. Three theories concerning the development of Proto-Indo-European (Alinei 2001: 16)

Although proponents of PC often make reference to the expression palaeolithic

continuity in their investigations, their research is far from homogeneous in terms of the
time depth assigned to Indo-European languages, that is, there are significant variations
in the way that the origins of this language family are discussed. 46 Among the various
proponents of PC theory there are those who explicitly push the IE migrationist scenario
back in timethat is, the initial spread of Indo-European languages. For example, there
is the case of Adams and Otte (1999) who focus attention on the possible impact of
climate changes associated with the Younger Dryas and the Holocene on the dispersal of
IE languages, and, consequently, on establishing the time period in which the expansion
of these speakers might have taken place. The period of the Younger Dryas, 12,500 200
years ago, shows a transition to a cold and dry climate, followed by a transition to a warm
and moist climate characteristic of the onset of the early Holocene, 11,500 200 years
ago:
If one takes Renfrews view that linguistic dating of language history is unreliable, then an
earlier divergence relating to hunter-gatherer recolonization after the Younger Dryas may be more
plausible for a spread of Indo-European language by this type of mechanism [i.e., a population
expansion associated with warming conditions during this period]. [] There is also a possibility
[] that the population increase causing the initial spread of the Indo-European languages occurred
at the earlier warming event at the end of the Last Glacial Maximum (about 14,500 years ago), with

46
For a critique directed towards Alineis PC work on Romance languages, especially in the Italian
Peninsula, cf. Adiego (2002).
 71

the onset of the Younger Dryas itself, or perhaps at an even earlier event. (Adams and Otte 1999:
75)

These researchers go on to elaborate the following hypothetical series of events: An

initial early Holocene sparse-hunter-gatherer wave spread of the Indo-European
languages might have been followed by a period of relatively long-distance cultural and
linguistic exchange (with the possible spread of innovations in the language, continually
updating aspects of the general substratum of Indo-European languages [] by relatively
mobile hunter-gatherer groups and later farming and warrior groups (Adams and Otte
1999: 75). As is obvious, these remarks are based on the assumption that there was once a
unified Proto-IE language spoken by a relatively homogeneous group of hunter-gatherers
who, for reasons not explained, spread across Europe (from east to west) during the early
Holocene. Once again, this model represents a continuation of the earlier explanatory
paradigm: the characters of the earlier IE narrative remove their Bronze Age or Neolithic
clothing and reappear dressed as a cohesive group of Upper Palaeolithic/Mesolithic
hunter-gatherers.
In short, while the PC hypothesis is intriguing, it is still controversial for a number of
reasons. For example, in its current formulation one of the frequent criticisms leveled
against it, and quite appropriately, is the fact that there seems to be no objective way to
cross-check whether or not a PIE item belongs to a Mesolithic lexical set. In that sense, it
suffers from some of the same defects that have been pointed out by others in the case of
attempts to reconstruct Proto-IE society and culture (Arvidsson 2006). Likewise, as
Arvidsson observes, reconstructions proposed in the nineteenth and early twentieth
centuries, were often totally contradictory, e.g., the reified IE people were first portrayed
as noble, industrious and peaceful farmers, i.e., sedentary agriculturalists; later on their
society was redrawn to make them patriarchal chariot-driving warrior nomads, etc. Most
of us are familiar only with the most recent (re)constructions of Proto-IE society and
culture and the debates surrounding them (e.g., the twentieth century competition
between the models of Gimbutas and Renfrew).47 Therefore, we are less familiar with the
details surrounding the way that reconstructions of etymons relating to one domain or
another were used in times past as evidence for identifying and assigning one concrete
feature or another to Proto-IE society and culture in the period before the so-called Indo-
Europeans (extrapolating once again from language to race) began to expand out of
their putative homeland. Similarly, over the past several hundred years, this homeland

47
For example, in the review article by Diamond and Bellwood (2003) which includes significant discussion
of genetics, the only models mentioned with respect to Indo-European are those of Gimbutas and Renfrew.
 72

has been sedulously repositioned by investigators and as a result has ended up in quite
different locations (Koerner 2001; Mallory 1997).
Yet all of these attempts to reconstruct the deepest chronological layers of the putative
Proto-IE society and culture are grounded in fundamentally the same kind of proofs:
linguistic ones. A lexical item found across several different branches of IE languages is
viewed as a good candidate for these reconstruction efforts, even more so if the semantic
item in question could have referred to an element found in the conceptual toolkit of
Bronze Age peoples, or, in the case of the PC model, to an item encountered in the
conceptual toolkit of Mesolithic or Upper Palaeolithic hunter-gatherers. However, in both
cases the proof is based on a reconstruction, a putative etymon, which is assumed to
correspond to a cultural conceptualization of significant antiquity (most especially if the
etymon in question can be linked to material remains found in the archaeological record
and/or ecosystems existing at the particular time period in question).
In this sense, the research models share a common denominator: that over significant
periods of time the meaning of the reconstructed etymon remained stable. Moreover, the
assumption that the meaning assigned to the reconstructed item was similar, if not
identical, to its meaning(s) in historically attested IE languages can be regarded as a
theoretical and methodological cornerstone of the IE model. This approach to the data
reflects the background assumption according to which stability and orderliness are seen
as natural or given properties of the meaning-making process (Frank 2008b). In this
respect, we need to keep in mind the following: that the time frame assigned to the
reconstructed item is 4000 BC, according to the traditional IE paradigm, or thousands of
years earlier, according to the PC model. In either case, this kind of dating of the original
object of inquiry requires the investigator to make a judgment call concerning what
happened to the semantic item during a period of several thousand years for which there
is literally no written evidence. Thus, the underlying assumption is that during this period
of time the meaning of the term was so stable that meanings associated with it thousands
of years later can be used reliably to reconstruct its much older original meaning.
Although this approach, one that is intrinsic to the methodology of historical
linguistics, is not fundamentally flawed when it is applied to reconstructions, particularly
to those for which we have a great deal of data and do not pretend to speak to great time
depths, when it is applied to the task of reconstructing elements from a Mesolithic
lexicon, at a minimum there needs to be some other kind of external anchor by means of
which the lexical data can be grounded.48 Ideally this grounding would be accompanied
48
In other words, I do not believe that the methodology of historical linguistics is flawed in and of itself,
rather only when it is appliedwithout further supporting extra-linguistic evidenceto reconstructing at
 73

by some non-linguistic means to access, cross-check or otherwise document the nature of

the much earlier Mesolithic world-view. More concretely, we need to bring into play a
methodological approach that will allow the lexical data to be linked to a Mesolithic
mindset and validated by it.

2.2 PCRT hypothesis: Linguistic and ethnographic evidence

Until now the PCRT approach which favors an alternative narrative based on postglacial
colonization out of the Pyrenean-Cantabrian refugium, has been buttressed primarily by
genetic and archaeological data. PCRT researchers explicitly subscribe to an
interdisciplinary approach to solving the problems with which they are confronted. As a
result, researchers working within this framework have come together from a variety of
fields, e.g., genetics, especially molecular evolutionary genetics, geography and more
recently phylogeography, evolutionary and population biology and ecology, evolutionary
psychology, archaeology and its subfield of cognitive archaeology. However, until now
the fields of historical linguistics and ethnography have not been brought into play in
support of the PCRT narrative. That is, so far evidence from these fields has not been
applied directly on the PCRT model in order to validate its central hypothesis concerning
early population expansions out of the Pyrenean-Cantabrian refugium. Consequently,
given that the ursine cosmology under discussion here could date back to a Mesolithic
mindset, a careful analysis of the distribution of artifacts relating to itboth linguistic
and ethnographic in naturecould become an additional mechanism for charting
postglacial colonization routes emanating out of the proposed Pyrenean-Cantabrian zone.
Hence, the task of identifying and documenting the locations where ursine
performance art and associated beliefs have survived is particularly important especially
in the case of the more elaborate forms of such performances encountered in the
Pyrenean-Cantabrian zone and locations immediately adjacent to it, e.g., zones in which
Catalan is spoken today. Furthermore, the cultural artifacts under study can also be
compared to those found in Sardinia which is the second genetic outlier (Sanna 2006:
142; Semino et al. 2000: 1159). From this perspective, the current investigation deals
with the recuperation of what appears to be an earlier worldview, dating back possibly to
the Mesolithic, a cosmology that still today is deeply entrenched in European
performance art and a variety of related the socio-cultural practices (Frank 2008c).

deep time depths where, by necessity, one is left to speculate concerning the stability of the etynoms
original meaning.
 74

When attempting to reconstruct the normative concepts that undergird this belief
system we are aided by the fact that concrete linguistic evidence can be extracted,
namely, from an analysis of the semantic field of the term hamalau fourteen along with
the dialectal variants of this expression found in the geographical region of Euskal Herria.
Here we are talking about locations that coincide with the western refugium where
Euskara is still spoken as well as zones where the language has died out, but leaving
behind recognizable phonological variants of the term hamalau. In other words, there is a
trail of linguistic and ethnographic clues that point us in the direction of what appears to
be an ursine cosmology rooted in a worldview characteristic of hunter-gatherers, rather
than pastoralists and farmers.

3.0 Methodological issues and instruments of analysis

At first glance we might assume, erroneously, that these residual linguistic data and
related social practices are restricted only to this refugium zone of Western Europe.
However, such an assumption would be false. As was demonstrated in the first chapter of
this study (Frank 2008c), the striking level of structural and linguistic correspondences
between Basque and Sardinian cultural artifacts suggests that there is a commonality of
belief underlying the performance art encountered in both locations. And while there is
little question that Euskal Herria is the zone having the densest network of reflexes of the
term hamalau, i.e., phonological variants of the term, similar reflexes can be found
outside what is today the Basque-speaking zone, a topic that will be taken up in detail in
the next section of this study.
Furthermore, as we begin to examine these reflexes, we need to keep in mind that the
ursine cosmogony itself antedates the implantation of Neolithic agricultural practices.
Thus, we are confronted with a set of interrelated methodological problems.
How do we go about determining the original location of the linguistic and
cultural artifacts in question?
What evidence is there, if any, that would allow us to chart the pathways taken
by these cultural artifacts as they moved out of the initial western refugium?
Does the diffusion of the linguistic and cultural artifacts related to the ursine
cosmology allow us to map the development of the cultural complex over
time?
The instruments of analysis that will be marshaled in order to probe these deeper
cognitive layers will be the linguistic and cultural artifacts themselves, specifically those
that are linked directly to the ursine cosmology. Tracing these artifacts across space and
time will allow us to explore the linguistic and cognitive pathways laid down by them. In
 75

other words, the linguistic data will guide us as we attempt to reconceptualize the
dialectal variants of the ursine cosmology encountered in the geographical region defined
by Pyrenean-Cantabrian refugium, as well as in zones adjacent to this region. By tracing
the diffusion of this data set and its variants across space and time we should be able to
develop a better grasp of the way these variants developed and, likewise, how the study
of the socio-cultural entrenchment of these artifacts might allow us to reconstruct, albeit
hypothetically, different components of this earlier symbolic regime.
In order to bring into clearer focus the various components of the ursine cultural
complex we will employ the cross-linguistic and cross-cultural approach that was
discussed briefly in the first chapter of this investigation, namely, a methodology that
emphasizes the transformation of the cognitive processes under analysis. In summary, as
noted in the first part of this study (Frank 2008c), the results drawn from such cross-
cultural and cross-linguistic comparisons could have remarkable implications: they could
shed light on preterit patterns of cognition, cultural conceptualizations and perhaps even
social organization and socialization practices that until now have been invisible or at
least inaccessible to us. In short, this approach could serve as a means of recuperating
complex patterns of behavior, cultural and social processes that could allow us to
reconstruct, albeit hypothetically, much earlier patterns of belief.

3.1 The semantic field of Hamalau

In order to gain access to the cultural conceptualizations associated with the earlier
cosmology, our investigation will focus on the semantic field generated by name of the
bear-like creature known as Hamalau Fourteen (a compound composed of hama(r)
ten and lau four). This expression will act as a valuable tool of inquiry as we begin
tracing and anchoring the linguistic and cultural artifacts under discussion and exploring
their socio-cultural embedding.49 As has been explained, the term hamalau is a
multifaceted concept that plays a central role in Basque traditional belief and
performance art (Frank 2008c; Perurena 1993: 265-280). For instance, we need to
remember that Hamalau is the name of the main character of the Bear Son tales, the
half-human, half-bear, born of a human female and a great bear who functions
symbolically as a kind of intermediary between humans and bears (Frank 1996, 2001,
2005b, in press-a). Dialectal variants of the word hamalau include mamalo, mamarrao,
mamarro, mamarrua, marrau and mamu, among others (Azkue 1969: II, 11-12, 19;
Michelena 1987: XII, 52-53, 57-60). And at this juncture I should also point out that

49
In order to provide coherence to the linguistic sections of the second part of the investigation, I have
included a certain amount of material presented initially in the first part of the study (Frank 2008c).
 76

dialectal variants of the expression hamalau, most particularly marrau and mamu, are
commonly used to refer to a frightening creature that parents call upon when their
children misbehave, i.e., the counterpart of the babau or spauracchio dei bambini in
Italian.
All of these Basque variants show nasal spread, that is, the reflexes end up having
two /m/ sounds. I would mention that in the case of the variant mamarrao, another
common phonological change has taken place: the replacement of one liquid, i.e., /l/, with
another, namely, with a trilled /r/, so that the last syllable /lau/ is pronounced as /rrao/.
Finally, the variant marrau demonstrates further phonological erosion, i.e., the loss of the
second syllable /ma/: mamarrao ma(ma)rrao marrao marrau. Also, we have
variants in mamarro and marraru.
In the instance of mamu, additional phonological erosion can be detected: (h)amalau
mamalau mamarrao mam(arr)au mamau mamu. As we have seen, in
Sardu in addition to the performers called Mamutzones and Mamuthones, there are a
number of toponyms demonstrating a similar root stem (Fois 2002a, b, [2002]). There are
numerous other words that appear to derive etymologically from the same root. These
items have essentially the same meanings but slightly different phonological
representations. By this last statement, I refer to the fact that in Sardu the stem of the
word varies in its phonological shape: roots appear in the shape of mamu-, momo-
/mommo-, momma- and marra-. In the case of the root form mamu-, we find mamuntomo
spauracchio; mamuntone fantoccio; mamuttinu: strepito; mamudinu Belzeb,
demonio, diavolo, strepito, zurlo mamuttone spauracchio, spaventapasseri;
mamuttones maschere carnevalesche con campanacci; mamutzone spauracchio as
well as mamus esseri fantastici che abitanoi nelle caverne. In the instance of the root
stem of momo-/mommo-/momma-, we find: mommoi babau, befana, fantasma,
licantropo, orco, pidocchio, spauracchio, spettro; momotti babau, befana, spauracchio;
mommai befana; and from marra-, marragau orco, gruccione50, marrangoi babau,
50
The dialectal variants of the stem in marra- are particularly interesting in that there appear to be two
unrelated sets of meanings associated with the term marragau. On the one hand, in some dialects marragau
has meanings overlapping with those of marragotti befana, babau, mostro, spaurrachio (hag, bogey-
man, monster, scarecrow), while on the other hand it carries the meaning of gruccione (a small bee-
eating bird; Lat. Merops apiaster). Then given that we have mommoi producing mommotti, it could follow
that from marragau we could get marragotti. The difficulty that arises with marragau has to do with
explaining its meaning of bee-eater and how that relates to notions such as bogey-man. Perhaps the
most parsimonious explanation is to argue that underlying the two sets of meanings are two separate
etynoms, whose phonological representations ended up being so similar that the two sets of meanings fell
together. For example, in other dialects the expressions meaning bee-eater are represented as: apiolu,
abiolu, abriolu, abiargiu, abiargo, miargiu and miargu. Therefore, the latter reflexes (especially, abiargiu,
abiargo, miargiu and miargu) could have become intertwined phonologically with the pre-existing lexeme
marragau. This interpretation of events suggests that marragau did not originally mean bee-eater, but
 77

mostro, spaurrachio; and marragotti befana, biliorsa, bilioso, fantasma,

mangiabambini, mannaro, orco, ragno, spauracchio, spettro(Fois 2002b; Rubattu
2006).51

4.0 Hamalau and the socialization of children

In the first chapter of this study (Frank 2008c) we focused almost exclusively on the
Sardu variants of mamutzone and mamuthone as they are applied to bear-like performers
who have their counterparts in Basque performance art. That is, the emphasis was on
documenting the performances and how they relate to the ursine cosmology. In this
chapter the focus will shift to another set of meanings attached to these terms,
specifically, the fact that many of these words also refer to a fantastic being who is often
invoked by adults to scare children into behaving properly, going to bed on time, not
crying and, in general, obeying their parents. In this instance, the being in question acts as
an enforcer, as the entity that will punish the child for misbehaving.
For example, the frightful nature of the being in question is summed up in the
expression mangiabambini which is associated with expressions such as marragau and
marragotti: Paulis (1997: 173) comments that in Cagliari and Bosa, ai bambi si dice, per
intimorirli: se non stai zitto, ti faccio mangiare da su Marragau[to childen they say, if
you arent quiet, Ill have you eaten by the Marragau]. Fois (2008) has collected several
of these sayings: Fai a bonu, asinunka di vattsu bappai de su Marragau! [Be good, if
not Ill have you eaten by the Marragau!]. Similarly, the term Mommoti is used to refer
to this frightening creature: Si no fais a bonu, beni Mommoti e ti furada [If you
misbehave, the Mommoti comes and takes you away]; Si no ti cittis, beni Mommoti e ti
pappada [If you arent quiet, the Mommoti will come and eat you!]. Thus, we find that
the expressions Marragau and Mommoti are used interchangeably. The belief complex
also makes reference to the method by which this being carries off children who

rather acquired that connotation because of the way that the variants for bee-eater eventually converged
phonologically on it. This would explain why among the meanings associated with marragotti we dont
find gruccione. In short, marragotti would reflect the original meaning of marragau. (cf. Amades 1951:
59-60; 1952: 597-598; Frongia 2005: xxxii-xxxiii; Paulis 1997: 172-174).
51
The English counterparts of these terms are as follows: from the root mamu-, mamuntomo scarecrow;
mamuntone puppet; mamuttinu racket, clamour, noise; mamudinu Beelzelbub, demon, devil, racket,
clamour; mamuttone scarecrow; mamuttones: masked performers wearing bells; masks; mamutzone
scarecrow; mamutzones masked performers wearing bells as well as mamus fantastic beings who
inhabit caverns; from the variants momo-/mommo-/momma- we find mommoi bogey man, hag, witch,
phantom, spectre, were-wolf, ogre, louse, scarecrow; momotti bogey-man, witch, scarecrow; mommai
hag, witch; and from marra-, marragau ogre, bee-eater (orinth.), marrangoi bogey-man, ogre,
monster, scarcrow; marragotti hag, witch, imaginary beast, phantom, baby-eater, were-wolf, ogre, spider,
scarecrow, spectre.
 78

misbehave: the creature is equipped with a sack or basket into which the culprits are
stuffed (Fois 2008).
In section 9.0 of this study we shall examine traces of other possible phonological
variants of this cultural conceptualization located within the western refugium zone,
particularly in Catalunya. These variants refer to creatures with similar characteristics and
functions, specifically, ones that belong to the category of beings called asustanios or
espantachicos (that which scares children) and that fall under the broader rubric of
LHome del Sac (The Man with the Sack), a frightening being frequently equipped with a
sack or basket and/or otherwise portrayed as a dangerous enforcer who takes away
disobedient children. For example, the Catalan Marraco has been compared
phonologically and functionally to the Sardu Marragau (Amades 1951: 59-60; 1957:
268-270; Paulis 1997: 173).
At the same time, other meanings associated with the word field in Sardu (e.g.,
babau, befana, fantasma, licantropo, orco, pidocchio, spauracchio, spettro) indicate that
the being in question was fearedat least at some point in the pastby adults, as well as
children. Similarly, in Euskal Herria there is a creature who plays an analogous role as an
enforcer. Today the being in question is invoked using phonological variants of Hamalau
(Fourteen). As was explained in the first chapter of this study (Frank 2008c) , the term
hamalau is associated specifically with the figure of a half-human, half-bear ancestor, the
cosmological intermediary between humans and bears (Perurena 1993: 265-280). In
times past it appears that this enforcer had a flesh and blood counterpart in the
individual who held the office of Hamalau-Zaingo in the community, discussed in Frank
(2008c), a term that translates, literally, as Guardian of Hamalau, or, more loosely, as
the one who is in charge of watching over and caring for Hamalau.
In Euskara the variants of this term, e.g., marrau and mamu, are commonly used to
refer to the creature that parents call upon when their children misbehave, i.e., the
counterpart of the babau in Italian and the aforementioned marragau and mommoti in
Sardu. However, the meanings associated with marrau and mamu no longer show any
obvious trace of the meanings attached to the original etymon hamalau. In other words,
today when Basque speakers use the expression marrau or mamu, they are no longer
consciously aware of the etymon hamalau fourteen that stands behind the term. In
short, speakers have lost track of the etymological relationships holding between the
words. However, there is a third phonological variant that allows us to establish a
semantic bridge between the first two variants (marrau and mamu) and the root form of
the latter concepts: hamalau.
 79

Stated differently, in Basque there are three basic phonological variants which are
used to refer to the being that is said to take away ill-behaved children. First, there are the
variants in mamu and marrau which we have already discussed. Then we have the variant
hamalauzanko, also recorded as hamalauzaku (Azkue 1969: I, 36; Michelena 1987: I,
874). All three of these terms have their semantic counterparts in Basque performance
art. These three reflexes are clearly derived from hamalau, while the variant
hamalauzanko or hamalauzaku, from hamalau-zain-ko, demonstrates the presence of two
additional morphemes zain guardian, keeper and -ko/go of, pertaining to, as well as a
certain degree of additional phonological erosion, i.e., zain-ko zainko zanko,
producing hamalauzanko; and then from zain-ko zaiko zaku, producing in turn
hamalauzaku.52 Thus, there is a connection between the name of the fearsome being
invoked by parents and the expression hamalauzaingo which in times past referred to an
office held by members of the community, a topic that we shall return to shortly.
The development of a wide range of phonological variants from the term hamalau is
not at all surprising, particularly in socio-cultural situations of orality where the collective
memory embedded in the language reflects these earlier meanings only vaguely and
where, consequently, there is no tradition of writing to stabilize the expressions
meaning. Therefore, once the socio-cultural frames of reference for the term hamalau no
longer anchored it fully, that is, in when its primary meaning was no longer coupled
contextually with its other meanings, the resulting phonological variants could wander
away from their parent stem, namely, hamalau. In other words, once the true etymology
of the word is no longer understood by speakers, the fact that the expression also means
fourteen is forgotten: the phonological shape of the word is no longer anchored in that
etymology. Therefore, the speaker no longer recognizes the individual components of
hamalau; she can no longer identify hama(r) as ten and lau as four. At this point the
terms phonology can become unstable and gradually begin to loose its original shape.
We need to recall that we are talking about the oral transmission of an expression that
came to refer to a kind of abstraction, some sort of vague being. If the you didnt know
that hamalau meant fourteen, it would be hard for you to remember how to pronounce
it. None of its components would be meaningful to you. And it would be even more
difficult if the multi-syllable expression didnt conform to the phonology of your native
language. As a result, the stability of its phonological shape could be affected. In such a
situation of orality, a degree of doubt enters the equation: the speaker is not entirely
certain of what she has heard or, for that matter, exactly how to repeat it. And,
52
In most dialects of Basque the first element of the morpheme -ko voices after /n/, and ends up being
pronounced as -go.
 80

consequently, as the term is transmitted from one generation to the next, from one dialect
or language to another, what can result are phonological approximations of the original
word.
In this cumulative process of multiple oral transmissions, at each juncture the speaker
tries to capture the correct phonology, imitating what she thinks she has heard. I should
point out, however, that at certain junctures in time, this process of oral transmission can
lead to the stabilization, albeit momentary, of a given phonological shape of the original
term; or it can undergo further phonological shiftsphonological re-shapingsoften
resulting in further phonological reduction of the expression, as is demonstrated in the
case of the highly reduced variants of hamalau-zaingo, mentioned earlier. Indeed, the
latter compound has an even more phonologically reduced dialectal form in azaku/asaku
([Ihauteriak] 1992).
In summary, when there is no meaning attached to the individual morphemes that
compose the expression, the possibility of its phonological shape being altered is
particularly great. As is well known, one of the most common ways that a word is
adjusted is through the elimination of one of its syllables, what is called phonological
erosion, that is, one of its morphemes is removed. In the various dialects of Basque we
have seen this sort of reduction going on in the case of marrau and mamu where the three
syllables of the original word are reduced to two and at the same time we can detect other
subtle modifications in the original phonological shape of the expression. Naturally, as
these transmissions occur, gradual changes in the expressions meaning can also take
place: the term is repeatedly re-contextualized, adapted and modified to fit the ever
changing socio-cultural environments experienced by the speakers.

4.1 Hamalau as night visitor and guardian of communal norms

Research carried out by the Basque ethnographer J. M. Satrstegui at the end of the
twentieth century reveals that at that juncture in time the belief in the supernatural powers
of this being had not totally disappeared among Basque-speakers. The particular way that
this belief manifests itself involves the reflexes of Hamalau cited above, (e.g., Mamu,
Marrau, and Hamalauzanko/Hamalauzaku). Satrstegui interviewed a number of Basques
who said that they had been visited by the Mamu or the Marrau at night. As an aside, I
would mention that in those instances when the creature called Mamu is mentioned or
addressed directly, the citation form is often used: Mamua. The nocturnal visits, as
documented by Satrstegui, involve the following scenario. The experience regularly
occurs either just as the individual is falling asleep or just upon awakening. What is
significant is that the individual is not fully asleep but rather semi-conscious. What
 81

regularly triggers the experience is the fact that the person suddenly senses an ominous,
foreboding presence in the room, often described as totally terrifying; then a heaviness or
pressure is felt, first on ones legs. The sensation begins to move up the body, as if
another being were pressing down on upon the victim. The weight can become
particularly oppressive as if the Mamua were lying down on top of the person and
pressing down forcefully on his chest, provoking difficulty in breathing and/or a
sensation of suffocation. At the same time the afflicted party becomes paralyzed with
fear; he cannot cry out; he cannot move at all.
In short, the night visitor described by Satrstreguis informants is the source of the
classic concept of the night-mare, where the second element in the expression -mare
refers not to a female horse, but to the terrifying creature who comes to people in the dark
of night. More concretely, in terms of its etymology, the second element of the English
expression night-mare, i.e., -mare, is the English equivalent of the German word mahr
nightmare (Grimm and Grimm 1854: 1166) while the latter is related to phonological
variants in mrt, mrte, mrten.53 These German reflexes, as well as other etymologically
linked-terms found in Slavic languages, such as the Wendish expression Murraue
(Ashliman 1998-2005; Kuhn and Schwartz 1848: 418-420), all refer to this supernatural
being: a disturbing night visitor, often described as an ominous presence or intruder
(Cheyne 2001, 2003; Cheyne, Newby-Clark and Rueffer 1999; Hufford 2005). Viewed
from this vantage point, we can see that the English term derives from Germanic
compounds containing mrt mrte, mrten, and more specifically from compounds such
as Nachtmrt (the Night-Mare), discussed at length in Thorpe: Under all these
denominations is designated that spectral being which places itself on the breast of the
sleeping, depriving them of the powers of motion and utterance (Thorpe 1851-52, Vol.
3: 154).
At the time when Satrstegui initially carried out his research, he was convinced that
what he had discovered was a uniquely Basque phenomenon. Later, in 1995, when I
visited him at his home he repeated this conviction. He also explained that he had given a
presentation in Pamplona, Spain, before a group of cultural anthropologists,
psychologists and psychiatrists who were particularly intrigued with the data he had
collected (Satrstegui 1980, 1987). Satrstegui seemed unwilling to accept the
observations of the other investigators present at the colloquium who stated that the
nocturnal experience that Satrstegui had recorded was not unique to the Basque region,
as Satrstegui seemed to believe, but rather well documented among human populations

53
Dialectal variants also include mare (Germany), mahrt (Pommerania) and mahrte (North Germany).
 82

in general where it is known as sleep paralysis (SP) or, more properly, sleep paralysis
with hypnagogic and hypnopompic hallucinations, where the terms hypnagogic and
hypnopompic refer to hallucinations occurring during two periods, at the onset of sleep
and when one is waking up (Cheyne 2000, 2001; Cheyne, Newby-Clark and Rueffer
1999; Cheyne, Rueffer and Newby-Clark 1999).
Over the past decade research into this phenomenon has emphasized the fact that the
experience itself lasts only few seconds or minutes, although occasionally longer.
However, the brief duration of the hallucinatory experience does not diminish in any way
the profoundly disturbing nature of the event.
Sleep paralysis is a condition in which someone, most often lying in a supine position [face-up],
about to drop off to sleep, or just upon waking from sleep realizes that s/he is unable to move, or
speak, or cry out. People frequently report feeling a presence that is often described as malevolent,
threatening, or evil. An intense sense of dread and terror is very common. The presence is likely to
be vaguely felt or sensed just out of sight but thought to be watching or monitoring, often with
intense interest, sometimes standing by, or sitting on, the bed. On some occasions the presence may
attack, strangling and exerting crushing pressure on the chest. (Cheyne 2002b)

The International Classification of Sleep Disorders reports that sleep paralysis is

frequent in about 3 to 6 percent of the rest of the population; and occurs occasionally as
isolated sleep paralysis in 40 to 50 percent (Blackmore 1998; Thorpy 1990).54
Although statistics concerning those who have or have had this condition vary
considerably, it can be conservatively estimated that 25 to 40 percent of the overall
population have had at least one experience of SP during their lifetimes while a
somewhat smaller percentage have repeated experiences of it (Cheyne 2002a). Moreover,
the statistics point to a somewhat higher frequency among adolescents and young adults
as well as to the fact that the onset of the symptoms is most common among these
younger age groups.55
Left in isolation with no explanatory cultural resources available, the person who
suffers from these symptoms must search on her own for an explanation and a way of
determining the identity of the intruder or sensed presence. And, that attempt, as is
well documented, often gives rise to significant levels of anxiety and the suspicion that
the person is under direct attack by the supernatural forces or when the substantive reality
of these forces is rejected, that the person is in danger of losing her mind (De Blcourt

54
According to Blackmore (1998), other estimates for the incidence of isolated sleep paralysis include those
from Japan: 40 percent (Fukuda et al. 1987); Nigeria: 44 percent (Ohaeri 1992); Hong Kong: 37 percent
(Wing, Lee and Chen 1994); Canada: 21 percent (Spanos et al. 1995); Newfoundland: 62 percent (Ness
1978); and England: 46 percent (Rose and Blackmore 1996).
55
For more detail on the statistics and age of onset of the symptoms, cf. Cheyne (2002a).
 83

2003; Harris 2004; Hinton, Hufford and Kirmayer 2005; Hufford 1982, 2003, 2005;
Liddon 1967). Cheyne (2001: 133) describes this condition as follows:
A sensed presence often accompanies hypnagogic and hypnopompic hallucinations associated
with sleep paralysis. Qualitative descriptions of the sensed presence during sleep paralysis are
consistent with the experience of a monitoring, stalking predator. It is argued that the sensed
presence during sleep paralysis arises because of REM-related endogenous activation of a
hypervigilant and biased attentive state, the normal function of which is to resolve ambiguities
inherent in biologically relevant threat cues. Given the lack of disambiguating environmental cues,
however, the feeling of presence persists as a protracted experience that is both numinous and
ominous. This experience, in turn, shapes the elaboration and integration of the concurrent
hallucinations that often take on supernatural and daemonic qualities.

It is not surprising, therefore, that in reports written by those who have experienced SP
perhaps the most common descriptive adjective employed to communicate what the
experience provokes in them is terror, even when the individual suffering from the
condition is totally familiar with the official scientific definition and explanation of it:
At this point, having had so many of these experiences, I usually realize I am having an episode and
try to remain calm. But trying to remain calm never works. Never. Thats the thing about Sleep
Paralysis that is amazingno matter how many times you go through it and know what is
happening (more or less) the fear and terror are so undeniably great that it overpowers every rational
thought you try to have. The feeling of impending doom is just too real and the terror is undeniable.
All the while I try to wake myself upbut I am paralyzed. ([Furzdurzelette] 2008)

Indeed, one of the recurring themes is the the profound sense of panic produced by the
conviction that the presence intends to carry off its victim: [] more specifically, it
feels like something is coming to get me and carry me away []. I fell into this dream
world, and again I was panicking. I was getting really sick of these dreams, more
specifically the terror and anxiety (that something was coming for me) (Timothy 2001).
In contrast to the socio-culturally unmediated experience of people in contemporary
Western cultures (Fukuda et al. 1998; Fukuda et al. 1987; Hinton et al. 2005), other
cultures have well instantiated explanatory paradigms: narratives that explain how to
interpret who or what the sensed presence is. Where there is such an explanatory
paradigm, the experience itself situates the person inside a culturally approved
framework. Even though the experience itself is experienced in solitary, the identity of
the visitor is recognizable as fitting into a collective narrative. In most cases, though, the
identity of the intruder has a negative valence, coinciding with the sense of terror and
awe that the numinous, ominous presence evokes. The culturally approved interpretive
frames, therefore, can act to mitigate the negative effects of the experience by integrating
them into a larger more encompassing cultural narrative.
Keeping these facts in mind, what appears to be unique about the Basque linguistic
and cultural data is that they allow us to make the following connection: that the Mamua
 84

intruder (also known as Marrau and Hamalauzango/Hamalauzaku) who appears in the

guise of a night-visitor is linked directly to the spectral being that parents call upon to
scare their own children into behaving. And this in turn brings into view elements from
the older culturally mediated narrative. We have two tiers of belief. In one version it is
the child who is subject to attack; in the other it is primarily the adult who identifies as
the victim. This intriguing connection will be treated in more detail in a future chapter of
this investigation, i.e., in Insula-6. For the moment let it suffice to say that the fact that
this night visitor attacks adults could help to explain another aspect of the semantic
field of the Sardu examples, e.g., the meanings associated with terms such as marragau,
marragotti, momotti, mommoi, etc, and therefore, the identification of the mangiabambini
with entities such as babau, spettro, fantasma which because of their meanings are
more oriented toward the culture of adults than that of children.
Satrstegui gives the following examples of adults invoking this frightening being as a
way of chastising children:
Haur txikiak isilarazteko esames jostagarriak izan dituzte herri guztiek. Mamua, zer bildurgarri
baten izena da. Errazuko jaio-berriak, ez dakit ulertuko zuen arrazoibide hori. Mamuseneko etxe-
aurrean negarrez bataiatzera zihoan haurrari hala esan omen zion bere aitaxik [All peoples have
playful sayings to get little children to be quiet. What a frightening beings name Mamua is. I dont
know whether a new-born of the village of Errazu would have understood this logic. In front of the
house called Mamusen, it is said that a godfather said the following to his godchild who was crying
on the way to being baptized.]
Xo, Xo! Mamuseneko atarian, badare mamuak! [Shhhh, Shhhh (be still, dont cry) at Mamusens
threshold, there are mamuak about!!] (Satrstegui 1975: 196)

Caro Baroja defines the Mamu in the following way: Mamu es actualmente un
personaje anlogo al Coco, con cuya presencia se amenaza a los chicos pequeos cuando
lloran" (Mamu is today a character analogous to the bogey-man, whose presence is
used to threaten small children when they cry). The Coco is the Spanish (Castillian)
language equivalent of the asustanios (Caro Baroja 1986: 320).56

56
Cf. also http://encina.pntic.mec.es/agonza59/europeos.htm#Coco and
http://www.celtiberia.net/articulo.asp?id=1470.
 85

Figure 3. Que viene el Coco. An etching by Francisco de Goya.57

Figure 4. El ogro ms famoso y temido, 'El Coco'. Source: www.fundacion-cajarioja.es.58

Then, alongside Mamu, Satrstegi lists a second phonological variant by which this
creature is known: Marrau.
Gauzekin konturatzen hasten diren garaian, aurpegia perekatuz, hau esaten zaie Luzaiden [In the
village of Luzaide when children begin to understand things, they say to them while caressing their
faces]:
Marrau! [Marrau!]
Jan zak haur hau! [Eat this child!]
Gaur edo bihar? [Today or tomorrow?]
Gaur, gaur, gaur. [Today, today, today.] (Satrstegui 1975: 196-197)

In this latter example there is a kind of playfulness on the part of the adult. While the
parent is calling upon the Marrau to eat the child, at the same time the adult is
expressing affection and hence treating the child in a loving way. Thus, two signals are
being communicated at the same time: we could say that the status of the Marrau is

57
[The Coco is coming!]
58
[The most famous and fearsome ogre, the Coco.]
 86

morally ambiguous. It stands as a frightening and stalwart guardian of the social order,
functioning as an ally of parents in their efforts to bring up their children properly: the
Marrau is called upon to intercede and make the child behave. Yet, love is also being
expressed, mitigating the seriousness of the threat to the young child.
At the same time when the child gets older, he comes to realize that he, too, will have
the opportunity to dress up as a Marrau, as is the case each year in the Basque villages of
Mundaca and Gernika where the Marraus still parade about. And, by extension, in times
past it is highly probable that children would have immediately identified the frightful
creature (that their parents has already spoken to them about) with these performers. In
this interpretive process, children would have been aided by semantic signals accessible
to them because of their knowledge of the Basque language itself: the names attached to
the bizarre performers taking part in these public rituals were the same or remarkably
similar to the name of the creature that their parents invoked, repeatedly, to get them to
behave properly.
In conclusion, the similarities holding between the Sardinian and Basque linguistic
and ethnographic and linguistic data suggest, once again, that we are looking dialectal
variants drawn from the same cultural complex. At this juncture in the investigation the
main difference between the two data sets lies in the fact that only in the Basque data set
do we find clear evidence that the character in question was also thought to appear in the
form of an intruder or night visitor who attacks not just children but also adults. In
this respect, we can appreciate why the Marrau or Mamu has been viewed as a fearsome
being whose presence causes great anxiety among both age groups.

5.0 Methodological considerations

Before taking up the next group of linguistic and ethnographic artifacts, we need to
outline the methodology that will be applied to them. In recent years increased attention
has been paid to the concept of contested ritual agency, as it has been applied in the field
of cultural studies, particularly by researchers who are exploring what happens over time
when contrasting belief systems come into prolonged contact with each other (Eade and
Sallnow 2000). The concept refers to a particular kind of cultural contact and interaction:
how belief systems that are in close contact over long periods of time end up interacting
with each other. Briefly stated, contested ritual agency refers processes whereby the
meaning of rituals and symbols, as well as linguistic artifacts, are contested as they come
under pressure from different groups. Based on the way that the members of each group
contextualize and interpret these artifacts, their actions can be understood as attempts to
assert authority or agency over the meaning assigned to the artifact, and in this fashion
 87

their actions serve to direct and control the way that the symbol or ritual is received and
interpreted by others.
What is being contested is the individuals right as well as his ability to define and
therefore control the meaning of the artifact in question. In general there are two principal
groups who contest the meaning of a given symbol or ritual: one defending, consciously
or unconsciously, the older meanings and another promoting a revision of them. At the
same time, we must keep clearly in mind that the process of contestation does not
necessarily manifest itself as a conscious decision on the part of the individual members
of the social collective(s). Quite the contrary, the transformation of the meaning of the
artifact is often slow, so slow that those involved are often not fully aware of the changes
that are taking place. In other words, it is frequently a very subtle cumulative process,
constituted by a myriad of decisions taken by individualsover several generationsand
distributed across a given community. Thus, contested ritual agency refers to manner in
which symbols of identity are manipulated by a given cultural group, even though the
cognitive processes involved are not always consciously recognized while they are
occurring, much less fully understood by the individual members of the collective in
question.
In other instances, when the imposition of one belief system upon another is rapid,
even violent, conflict can arise where the two groups consciously defend their turf and
their right to control the meaning of the artifact, symbol or social practice. This process
regularly pits those defending what they view as the traditional (indigenous) meaning of
the artifact against those attempting to alter its meaning, by appropriating the artifact and
inserting it into a different interpretive framework or suppressing it entirely. By
recontextualizing the ritual objectwhether it be an aspect of traditional performance art,
a material or a cognitive artifactits meaning changes. Sometimes these shifts in
meaning are quite minimal while at other times the recontextualization can alter the
original meaning of the artifact in dramatic ways. Over time the cumulative process of
these minimal shifts in meaningrecontextualizations of the artifactcan render the
original meaning of the entity opaque, almost unrecognizable, unless the investigator can
find what we might call dialectal variants of the same entity or even earlier variants of it
that have not undergone the same process(es) of recontextualization.
In this sense, the process of meaning-making and the shifts in the meaning of these
artifacts is quite similar to the often highly complex processes that take place as words
acquire new meanings: over time they are socio-culturally recontextualized by speakers
and as a result their meanings can shift. Generations of language agents or speakers are
constantly interacting with their socio-cultural environment, adjusting their linguistic
 88

tools to the needs of the changing norms and requirements of their surroundings. In the
case of language, these processes of semantic shift are almost imperceptible, that is, as
they are actually taking place. Indeed, the speakers themselves are rarely fully aware that
by their minimal choices, they are contributing ultimately to changes in the meaning of a
given term, changes that might take centuries to become instantiated in the lexicon of all
speakers of the language.
Yet, when viewed in retrospect, evidence can be collected pointing to how these shifts
took place, evidence of new applications of the term: the way that the artifact has been
being inserted into new contexts and hence over time acquires slightly different
meanings. What might have been the terms primary meaning can be replaced by another
meaning because of the frequency with which the term is being applied to a new object.
At other times what was once the primary meaning of the linguistic entity merely slips in
rank, becoming not the first meaning of the term that comes to mind, but rather a
secondary or tertiary meaning (Frank 2008b).
Finally, if, let us say, the object to which the primary meaning of the term was
originally attached slowly disappears from the socio-cultural repertoire of the speakers
(i.e., it is no longer represented in the socio-cultural environment and hence no longer
available to be named), what was the primary meaning associated with the object can
eventually disappear from sight, moving down further and further in the ranking of
meanings until only the eldest speakers can recall the entity to which it was originally
applied. Given that cultural knowledge is differentially distributed among the various
members of a given cultural community, in this gradual process of semantic shift, there
are stages in which the primary meaning of the term is still present, i.e., when its
frequency of occurrence is high enough that it might hold the second place for centuries,
only to fall to last place and/or disappear entirely centuries later. What governs these
shifts appears to be a kind of complex, distributed interaction between speakers and their
environment, an interaction that often can be reconstructed only after the fact, i.e., after
the word has undergone major semantic shifts and, generally speaking, only in those
cases where there is sufficient written documentation so that the processes involved
earlier can be charted.
The aforementioned similarities holding between the nature of semantic shift and the
kind of changes that take place over time in the case of ritual practice and belief allow us
to develop a methodological approach that takes advantage of both types of shift. By this
statement I refer to the fact that the current research project focuses on the meanings
associated with the Basque term hamalau fourteen and the way that these meanings can
be traced across space and time, the way the linguistic artifact has been socio-culturally
 89

situated and the way that it has generated a set of interlocking cultural conceptualizations
(Sharifian 2008). Thus, we need to keep in mind that the term hamalau projects a
semantic field consisting of a number of interrelated meanings: it has a number of
referents. Furthermore, it is deeply entrenched in Basque social practice, occupying a
central place within an archaic belief system, one that holds that Basques descended from
bears. Naturally, as has been asserted, this ursine cosmology is more congruent with an
environmental setting of hunter-gatherers. Therefore, if this assertion is correct, we are
looking at a cultural complex that has been affectedrecontexualized repeatedly over
timeby several different kinds of symbolic orders, including the worldview of
pastoralists and agriculturalists, characterized by the domestication of animals and the
eventual rise of the human-nature dichotomy. In this new symbolic regime we find the
downgrading of non-human animals and the subsequent elevation of human animals to
the category of an entirely separate class of beings (Frank 2003, 2005b; Ingold 1995).
Consequently, it would not be surprising to discover that at some point a confrontation
took place between the ursine cosmology and the emerging anthropocentric framework
that dominates today, and that over time these encounters or interactions between the
opposing worldviews would have set up a contest with respect to the manner in which
meaning was assigned to the symbolic artifacts in question. Thus, the interpretation of
the symbolic artifactswhich is at the center of this process of meaning-making
depends on the way the different groups adjusted to each other over time and came to (re-
)negotiate the meanings assigned to the disputed object(s). In some instances, the older
interpretation of the artifact is retained, albeit in a modified form. In other cases the older
interpretation fades from view or disappears entirely. In short, rather than being a
monolithic process the end result of these contacts can vary significantly.
There are three principal ways in which processes of contested ritual agency can alter
the tenets and framework of the original belief system, the linguistic artifacts associated
with it and the ritual practices supporting it: hybridization, marginalization and
generational down-grading. In the sections that follow we shall look at examples of these
three types of interactions, exploring how they relate to the cultural complex emanating
from this ursine cosmology and how the meanings associated with the main figure of
Hamalau have been reframed, although leaving behind a dense network of interlocking
linguistic and ethnographic clues.

5.1 Hybridization
Hybridization is brought about when elements from competing belief systems collide and
then partially or totally fuse. In the process competing interpretations can become
 90

attached to the same cultural artifact. Thus, hybridization represents a kind of fusion of
two competing belief systems. In this process of conceptual reorientation the interpretive
framework that contextualizes the artifact slowly shifts and there is a moment in which
the artifact becomes ambiguous in its meaning: some people will still interpret it using
the older interpretive framework, while others, supportive of the newer interpretation, are
able to appropriate the artifact and attempt to make it fit with their own belief system. In
short, over time a kind of compromise is reached in which the artifact in question
stubbornly retains aspects of its older meaning even after being inserted into the new
interpretive context.
For example, as we observed in the first chapter of this study, Christian saints who
become attached to a pre-existing sacred spot often have names that retain in some
fashion a reference to the entity venerated previously at the same site. A more concrete
example is that hermitages with linkages to bears often have a saint assigned to them
such as St. Ursula, i.e., the hermintages become associated with names of saints that
resonate linguistically the former occupant of the site (Frank 2008c). In these cases the
transition or shift in ritual meaning leaves behind a linguistic trail, a trail that is often
reinforced by other types of artifacts, legends binding the saint in question to a bear who
helped him or her in some way and/or material artifacts that speak to the same, e.g., a
bear carved in stone who sits at the foot of the tomb of the saint (Pastoureau 2007: 131-
151).
In short, this kind of hybrid discourse is a rather typical result, one that occurs when
two belief systems become fused; where the older system survives as a substrate element
within the new system, indeed, where it is fused to and/or absorbed into the new
symbolic regime. In these circumstances where hybridization is operating, it is not
unusual for the older spiritual figure to survive, but often only after being assigned a
more peripheral role. The figure now shows up seated, silently, beside the new spiritual
authority, or is otherwise demoted to a lower level of importance, a side-kick, visible,
nonetheless, to those who chose to reflect more upon the implications of the co-location
of the participating parties. This situation is one of the possible results of the
phenomenon called contested ritual agency. However, hybridization is often
accompanied by another type of reinterpretation: marginalization.

5.2. Marginalization
Marginalization is a process that can contribute to hybridization as in the examples cited
above, or contrarily it can allow the artifact to develop pretty much on its own, subject to
the changes in the socio-cultural norms of the time, but without the artifact being
 91

appropriated directly into the emerging dominant belief system, e.g., as might occur
through processes of hybridization. When this type of marginalization takes place, the
artifact or social practice in question is frequently classified as belonging to the
folklore of the community in question. Stated differently, for some reason it is not
integrated into the dominant belief structures of the group. Rather the artifact is left to
develop on the margins, peripherally, outside the dominant discourse. As such it acquires
a somewhat ambiguous status in terms of its value as a legitimate symbol of the groups
identity.
On the one hand, such folkloric survivals are constantly invoked as signs of identity,
while, on the other hand, it is not unusual for beliefs associated with such residual
practices to be looked at askance by certain sectors of the society, especially by those
who no longer share the older value system and/or world view. Again, in this process of
marginalization, among any given population we can usually detect at least three levels of
conviction in relation to a particular belief or social practice: 1) the group that sincerely
believes the practices should continue because the latter are needed to bring about some
result, e.g., wearing a bear claw amulet protects the person from harm; 2) the group that
continues to support the practice in question because they see it as a kind of continuation
of a custom, an engrained habit or entrenched tradition which is justified as a sign of
group identity, however, without the individuals in question truly believing in the
efficacy of the practice; and 3) the group that frowns upon the social practice as an
example of a belief associated with the uneducated lower or rural classes of the society
and, therefore, not to be venerated or held to be sacrosanct. Indeed, the custom can end
up being denounced as nothing more than a worthless superstition. In turn, the latter
group tends to be the group that is most willing to make changes in the social practice or
artifact in question.

5.3 Generational down-grading

The term generational down-grading refers to another wide-spread, if not universal
process, by which social practices which once formed part of adult culture shift
downwards and are taken up by children. Again this transformation of cultural artifacts is
the result of the effects of contested ritual agency. The process called generational down-
grading regularly combines elements associated with the two aforementioned processes:
hybridization and marginalization. More specifically, generational down-grading is a
process that takes place gradually, usually over many generations. It involves a shift with
respect to the nature of the agents who take part in a given social practice. Initially, the
practice is performed only by adults. Naturally, as children grow up, they slowly become
 92

aware of the meaning and purpose of the social practice and come to recognize that once
they are adults, they, too, are expected to take part in it.
However, over time the socio-cultural environment changes and as a result the
practice comes under pressure. As the socio-cultural norms shift, the practice in question
becomes demeaned, down-graded and eventually it is considered inappropriate for adults
to participate in it in the same capacity as they did before. But at the same time, because
there is a strong attachment to the practice itself, it is not abandoned. Rather the agents
involved are the ones who are replaced. In short, when a generational down-grading takes
place with respect to a given ritual practice, rather than adults, children now carry it out.
In other words, while belief in the efficacy of the specific practice and its associated
cultural complex is no longer acceptable as part of the dominant mindset of adults, the
belief and related social practices are passed on to children who are encouraged by their
parents to believe in the reality of the belief in question and the efficacy of performing
the ritual acts associated with it. In this fashion adults impress upon their offspring the
importance of carrying out certain ritual practices that they themselves no longer perform
or believe in.
In this case, there is a sort of collusion between two generations. On the one hand,
although the parents portray themselves as believers in front of their offspring, they
themselves are situated, cognitively, on the outside, and from that vantage point they
view the belief and/or activity as appropriate for children but not for adults. In this
respect, there is a kind of tacit collaboration on the part of the parents in terms of
conserving the belief and social practices related to it. While the parents no longer
represent the agents who believe in the efficacy of carrying out the social practice, they
continue to be active participants in the sense that they insist on fostering the belief in
their own children. Naturally, over time even the participation by children can become
further demeaned, e.g., consumerized where the material trappings of the practice and/or
purely its entertainment value become the focus of the performance.
As we shall soon see, a typical example of this is represented by the degeneration of
the phenomenon referred to as good-luck visits, discussed earlier (Frank 2008c), where
groups of adults wearing masks, often accompanied by a bear, moved through the
community, visiting one household after another, in an action that was considered to
bring good-luck and protect the householders and their farm animals against evil
influences. In other words, in times past the good luck visits were performed by adults
 93

with specific purposes in mind.59 As we have noted, the visitations were understood to
have a cleansing or healing function and it was not unusual for the bear character to be
played by a flesh and blood bear.
Indeed, one of the principle reasons behind the persistence of such performances is the
fact that the motley crew of masked actors along with their earthly bear or a man dressed
as a bear was believed to be fully capable of carrying away the maladies and misfortunes
of their households visited and/or the entire community (Frank 1996, 2005b;
Vukanovitch 1959). Consequently, the performances were considered to be of
fundamental importance to all members of the community: a method of insuring the
health and well being of the social collective. At the same time, the good luck visits
acted as a complex and resilient mechanism in terms of their ability to insure the storage
and transmission of the ursine belief system from one generation to the next, even though
over time the full understanding of the significance of the underlying tenets of that belief
system was increasingly obscured. Stated differently, the good-luck visits have
functioned as a means of off-loading the tenets of the ursine belief system by embodying
them in the performances themselves.
The performances also acted to communicate and reinforce the importance of proper
behavior, as was pointed out in the first chapter of this study (Frank 2008c). Once at their
destination the troupe of performers performed an abbreviated play that regularly
concluded with ribald report which served to evaluate and critique the householders
behavior, the former being read or sung by a member of the troupe of actors and
musicians.60 Afterwards, the actors were treated to food and drink by their hosts. As will
be demonstrated in Part 2 of this study which will appear in Insula-5, in some locations
this performance which was conducted originally by adults for adults, although with
children in the audience, so to speak, later came to be focused more and more on
children, to such an extent that it was the evaluation of the behavior of children that
become the central focus of the good-luck visitors.

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For a detailed discussion of the typology of the good luck visits, cf. Halpert (1969). For additional
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Cagliari, Sardinia. http://www.sre.urv.es/irmu/alguer/

Evidence in Favor of the Palaeolithic Continuity Refugium Theory

(PCRT): Hamalau and its linguistic and cultural relatives

Part 2

Roslyn M. Frank
University of Iowa
E-mail: roz-frank@uiowa.edu

1.0 Timing of the performances

In Europe, good-luck performances tended to take place during the period from the
beginning of November to early January. In New World locations such as Newfoundland
and Labrador, the practice continued to involve adults and persisted until quite recently.
In contrast, in the United States the period in question contains only three days
separated in timein which masquerading is accepted and commonplace, i.e., when
disguised characters regularly walk about the streets, namely, All Hallows Eve,
Christmas Eve and New Years Eve. Moreover, in most parts of the United States, the
customary good-luck visits associated with Halloween are no longer carried out by
adults wearing masks (Halpert and Story 1969). The same is not true, however, in the
case of the Advent period when homes are regularly visited by an adult disguised as St.
Nicholas or Santa Claus.
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In the latter instance although it is an adult who dresses up as St. Nicholas or Santa
Claus, children are the targets of the performance. Yet at the same time adults, in general,
play a role by actively encouraging their offspring to believe in the reality of the night
visitor. Then at Halloween, the practice of conducting house visits has became
generationally down-graded so that today in the United States, we find only children
dressed up in outlandish costumes going door to door, repeating the saying trick or
treat.61 Again, in the case of this type of generational down-grading there are often
transitional periods in which at one geographical location adults are still the primary
instigators while at other locations it is only children who take part in what is essentially
the same ritual.
Originally it would seem that these good-luck visits and attendant performances
took place throughout the year, motivated by the specific needs of the patient, household
or community in question. In this sense, the performers along with their flesh and blood
dancing bear (or its human counterpart) would have functioned much in the same way as
the members of the Society of False Faces of the Iroquois and the heyoka of the Sioux
whose fierce masks were intended to frighten away the evil spirits that were causing the
illness or misfortune. These Native American medicine men and women were the
contraries or sacred clowns who performed when needed, in the homes of the afflicted
(Speck 1945).
In the sections that follow we will examine the case of Europe (and the United States)
where it appears that the prophylactic healing powers associated with the performers and
their bear underwent a tripartite process of hybridization, marginalization and
generational down-grading. This process of change came about gradually as the ursine
symbolic order was repeatedly recontextualized, losing some elements while gaining
others. At the same time, and perhaps most remarkably, we shall discover that certain
core features have remained relatively stable across time. That said, what contributed, at
least in part, to the stability of these features seems to be, quite ironically, the prolonged
contacts between groups defending opposing symbolic orders, the recontextualizations
that resulted and the subsequent embedding of the older animistic cosmology inside a
Christian interpretive framework. In what follows we will trace the development of these
good-luck visits and the way that the portrayal of the ursine main character has evolved
over time. In doing so we shall examine the changes that have occurred using an

61
In the United States even though Halloween parties for adults are commonplace, it is frowned upon for
adults or even teenagers to go treat-or-treating, i.e., to take part in the door-to-door house-visits. When
adults do accompany children on these house visits, the adults do so only as chaperons not as active
participants in the begging ritual.
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approach grounded in the concepts of hybridization, marginalization and generational

down-grading.

2.0 Hybridization: The dancing bear Martin, He who walks barefoot

As we noted, one of the fundamental structural elements of the ursine cosmology has
been the phenomenon of good luck visits, a social practice that has contributed directly
to the cultural storage, preservation and stability as well as the transmission of the tenets
of the earlier ursine cosmology, across generations, by bringing into play mechanisms,
reiterative and redundant in their nature, typical of oral cultures. Nonetheless, in some
parts of Europe under the influence of Christianity the central role of the bear was
modified slightly and some of its functions reassigned by the Church to a specific saint
even though it appears that both the clergy and the general populace were often well
aware of the adjustments that were taking place, at least initially.
In order to illustrate more clearly how this process of symbolic hybridization works,
we will look at a concrete example: that of the transference of the functions of the bear to
a particular saint, namely, St. Martin, while the role of his trainer was taken over by the
figure of a bishop. As was usually the case with such hagiographically-based legends, the
bishop chosen was one whose historical origins were remote, shrouded in the mists of
time. St. Martin, Bishop of Tours, was finally consecrated by the Church in the fifth
century, and turned into the central character of a great Church festival, Martinmas,
celebrated on November 11th. A curious story was propagated about this Martin. Indeed,
there is reason to believe that the legend itself was a conscious attempt to link the saints
name and performances conducted in his honor directly to those of the dancing bears. In
order to understand this process we need to recognize that in the Middle Ages across
much of Europe a common nickname for any bear brought in to conduct a cleansing
ceremony was Martin. In fact, this name was frequently modified by adding the phrase
he who walks barefoot, e.g., as in the expression Mestre Mart au ps descaus, literally,
Bare-Foot Martin or Martin, he who walks barefoot, while the phrase he who walks
barefoot was used to refer to bears in general (Cals 1990: 7; Dendaletche 1982: 92-93).
The Church spin-doctors concocted a series of pious legends that would seek to stitch
the two belief systems together. Apparently the stories were an attempt, although quite an
unsuccessful one, to counter the wide-spread belief in the efficacy of performances
conducted by bear trainers and their dancing bears or at least to give them an air of
legitimacy within the framework of Christian belief. The legend propagated by the
Church with respect to St. Martin shows the ingeniousness of its authors, particularly
with respect to the way in which they managed to elaborate such a truly convoluted plot
 102

for the story itself. It was one that told of the generosity of the Bishop of Tours, a man
named Martin. When visited by his disciple and friend Valerius, a fifth-century bishop of
Saint Lizier in the Pyrenees, Martin gave him an ass so that Valerius would no longer
have to laboriously traverse the rugged mountainous terrain on foot and, consequently,
would be better equipped to spread the good word. And Valerius, in turn, named his ass
Martin. However, just when Valerius reached the path that would lead him to the
Pyrenean town of Ustou, darkness overtook him.62
The next morning much to his chagrin Valerius discovered an enormous bear standing
next to the tree where he had had left his ass tied the night before. Realizing the beast was
devouring the last remains of his pack animal, Valerius called out to him, The Devil take
you! No one will ever say that you have kept me from spreading the good word across
these mountains. Since you have eaten my friend Martin, you will take his place and
carry me about. The bear approaches Valerius and sweetly agrees to do what he has
been asked. When they arrive in the village of Ustou, the inhabitants crowd around
Valerius and his bear. And at this point after being given a bit of honey, in a sign of his
appreciation the bear Martin takes the bishops walking staff in his paw, raises himself up
on two feet and begins to dance, according to the text, the most graceful of dances ever
executed by a bear (Bgoun 1966: 138-139). But there is more. Because the villagers
are so impressed by Valerius and his dancing bear Martin, they decide to set up their own
school where little bears could be taught to dance. Moreover, the pious story could be
understood equally to be one utilized to explain and legitimize the prestige, indeed, the
European-wide reputation of the Bear Academy that was established in the Pyrenean
village of Ustou (Praneuf 1989: 66-70).
Such pious legends need to be examined more closely in terms of their psycho-social
intentions as well as their actual consequences. For instance, this legend, in all likelihood
promoted by the Church and locals alike, also gave the clergy a Christian-coded
explanation for why bears were called Martin.63 In addition, it sought to identify the
bishop in question, Valerius, with the person of the bear trainer. Even the dancing bears
long pole, the standard prop of all bear trainers, was attended to narratively and
reinterpreted as the bishops walking stick, his staff of office.64 As a result of these
symbolic reinterpretations, the legend ended up providing the populace with an ingenious

62
Saint Lizier is located some 35 kilometers from Ustou.
63
For additional discussion of this legend and similar ones associated with other saints, cf. Lajoux (1996:
213-220), Pastoureau (2007: 53-69) and Lebeuf (1987).
64
From a comparative standpoint, the bishops staff corresponds morphologically to the pole carried by bear
trainers. The trainer would give the pole to the bear who was then better able to support himself in an
upright position while he executed his dance steps (Dendaletche 1982: 89-91).
 103

justification for conducting good luck visits: the narrative became a means of justifying
deeply ingrained patterns of belief while slightly modifying them. At the same time by
associating the dancing bear with a given saints day, those wishing to carry out good
luck visits were given a green light. Indeed, in many locations the performances
continued to be conducted with relatively little interference from the Church authorities.
For example, today in many parts of Europe on the saints day in question, November
th
11 , an actor appears in the guise of the bishop St. Martin. But, more importantly, when
the individual dressed as a bishop does appear, he continues, as before, to be
accompanied on his rounds by a bear-like creature, his pagan double. In short, these
ursine administrants, in recent times merely ordinary human actors, perform their duties
authorized by a kind of Christian dispensation that permits them to continue to preside,
quite discreetly, over the festivities (Miles [1912] 1976: 208). In turn the bishop in
question takes over the role and attributes of the bear trainer through this process of
symbolic hybridization. Thus, the meaning of the bishops companion, the masked figure
representing the bear, is transparently obvious once one understands the mechanisms of
hybridization involved in the renaming processes themselves.65 In short, any attempt to
discover the identity of the furry, often frightening, masked figures associated with St.
Martins day must take these facts into account (Figure 1).
Figure 1. Names of the gift-bringers on St. Martins Day (November 11). Adapted from Erich and Beitl
(1955: 509).

65
In addition to the Pyrenean zone, across much of France and the rest of Western Europe the dancing bear is
called Martin; in the Carpathian region of Romania among its nicknames are Mos Martin (Old Martin),
Mos Gavrila (Old Gabriel), as well as Frate Nicolae (Brother Nicholas). In other parts of Europe the bear is
often called Blaise. The name is linked to the date of February 3 and to the figure of St. Blaise, the patron
saint of bears. In addition, this saints day coincides neatly with the day after Candlemas Bear Day, the
latter being celebrated on February 2. In the Balkans, however, it is St. Andrew who is presented as the
patron of bears (Lebeuf 1987; Praneuf 1989: 32, 61-71).
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Moreover, in case there were any doubts concerning the real identity of the bishops
companion, in Germanic speaking zones his side-kick was referred to not as Martin, but
rather as Pelzmrte, a term that could be interpreted as Furry Martin or perhaps
Martin with a Fur Coat. In fact, the Pelzmrte frequently appears alone, without his
bishop, on St. Martins day as well as on Christmas Eve. With respect to the Pelzmrte
we should recall that in some parts of Europe the good luck visits conducted on St.
Martins day (November 11th) eventually came to be transferred to the winter solstice
(Miles [1912] 1976: 161-247; Rodrguez 1997: 97-105).
As has been noted previously, Martin was a common name for a dancing bear in
France and Germany. However, the etymology given for the German expression
Pelzmrte, one that interprets the second element of the compound mrte as if it referred
to a proper name, i.e., Martin, is probably nothing more than a folk-etymology. At the
same time, the erroneous folk explanation for the meaning of mrteinterpreting it as if
it were a proper nounwas probably reinforced by the celebration of the good-luck
visits on St. Martins Day. As was shown in the narrative relating to how St. Martin
acquired his bear and began to travel about with it, the introduction of a Christian saint
served as a pretext for continuing the highly entrenched practice of good-luck visits. In
short, it was a Christianized rationalizationthe result of hybridizationthat served to
legitimize the pre-existing tradition.
Given that the belief in the supernatural healing powers of the bear and its retinue
harkens back to a pre-Christian cosmology, to expect an unconscious or inadvertent
reanalysis of pre-existing terminology would not be unusual. For example, there are two
 105

terms in German for the furry visitor that include the same prefixing element: pelz- fur,
furry. We have the expression Pelznickel66 where the second element -nickel is equated
with a kind of demon; then, if we continue with the same semantic logic, we have the
compound Pelzmrte where the second element would also refer to a demon or some
other sort of supernatural creature. And as we noted earlier, the Germanic term -mrte is
linked the modern German word mahr nightmare while the latter is related to
phonological variants in mrt, mrte, mrten, and consequently to the frightening night
visitor, discussed previously (Frank 2008a). In addition to the term Pelzmrte, in
Germany we also find other similar compounds for the gift-bringer: Nufssmrte,
Rollermrte, Schellenmrte as well as Mrteberta (Erich and Beitl 1955: 509), while in
the latter case, the second element Berta refers to an ominous pre-Christian female figure,
also referred to as Pertcha (Weber-Kellermann 1978: 19-23).

2.1 St. Nicholas and his furry dark companion

In the case of St. Nicholas, said to be a fourth century bishop from Myra in Turkey, his
saints day was celebrated in the spring until the thirteenth century. From the thirteenth
century to the time of the Protestant Reformation in the sixteenth century, the individuals
who dressed up as this bishop made their house calls on the sixth of December (Figure
2).

66
Similar examples of visitations by disguised inquisitors are found in the North American German customs
of Nova Scotia, the state of Virginia and particularly the nineteenth-century Pennsylvania Dutch where it is
called belsnickling (Halpert 1969: 43), obviously a verb derived from a phonological reinterpretation of
the German expression Pelznickel (Bauman 1972; Cline 1958; Creighton 1950). Indeed, there is evidence
of further attempts to make sense of the name given to these actors who were referred to as belsnickles
and bellschniggles, by reinterpreting the term as two separate words: Bell Snickles (Siefker 1997: esp.
17-26). Here the folk reinterpretation appears to have been motivated by the ox bells and other noise-
makers employed by the mummers (Creighton 1950: 58-59): It was the custom of young people [....] to
organize Bell Schnickling parties in October and November of each year... (cited in Halpert 1969: 40-41).
By 1827, as Nissenbaum (1997: 100) points out, in the Philadelphia Gazette the Belsnickle was being
compared to Santa Claus and we see that the Belsnickle described in this newspaper article was made up
in blackface: Mr. Bellschniggle is a visible personage. [] He is the precursor of the jolly old elf
Christkindle, or St. Nicholas, and makes his personal appearance, dressed in skins or old clothes, his
face black, a bell, a whip, and a pocket full of cakes or nuts; and either the cakes or the whip are bestowed
upon those around, as may seem meet to his sable majesty (cited in Shoemaker 1959: 74). Cf. also
Nissenbaum (1997: 99-107).
 106

Figure 2. Names of the gift-bringers on St. Nikolauss Day (December 6). Adapted from Erich and
Beitl (1955: 564).

It wasnt until after the Council of Trent (1545-1563) that the figure of Christkind or, in
its diminutive form, das Christkindel, the Christ child, was introduced.67 He, too, was
supposed to distribute gifts, but on Christmas Day.68 That practice eventually led St.
Nicholas to change the date of his good luck visits to December 25th, while, somewhat
ironically, the expression das Christkindel, originally intended to designate little Jesus,
evolved into Kris Kringle, one of the Germanic terms for Father Christmas (Rodrguez
1997: 99-103). In the Netherlands, the bishop in question is accompanied, nonetheless, by
Black Peter (Zwarte Piet), his faithful servant, whose role included carrying off
misbehaving children in his giant sack or a large straw basket, while today Zwarte Piet

67
For a detailed and eminently erudite discussion of the various and sundry efforts, often frustrated, on the
part of the Church to establish the date for celebrations associated with the birth of Christ, cf. Tille (1899:
119-137). Based on Tilles discussions, it should be noted that in Britain even into the sixth century there
was significant confusion concerning whether the third of the three great Christian festivals, the first two
being Easter and Pentecost, was Epiphany or Christmas. Indeed, for many centuries competing dates for
Christs birth were November 17 and March 28 (Tille 1899: 119).
68
Nonetheless, in the United States, as in many other European countries, even into the early nineteenth
century, if presents were exchanged at this season it was usually done on New Years Eve and they were
exchanged between adults rather being given to children. In the 1840's there was an increasing emphasis
on Christmas Day. This seems to have happened for several reasons. The presswhich now reached a far
wider audience with its cheaper production costs and consequently wider circulationstressed the fact that
Christmas Day was the celebration of the birth of Jesus. Birthdays had always been a day for giving
presents and it was a natural step to celebrate Jesuss birth by giving gifts on that day. [...] By the end of the
century Christmas Day was firmly fixedin England at leastas a childrens festival and the day on
which presents were given (Chris 1992: 87-88). Similarly, in the United States, the gift-bringing aspect of
the celebration of St. Nicholas day (December 6th) was eventually reassigned to Christmas Eve.
 107

has been converted into an innocuous helper of a kindly child-loving Sinterklaas (Figure
3).69

Figure 3. Dag, Sinterklaasje (Hello, Sinterklaas). Source: Vriens (1983). Illustration by Dagmar Stam.

In addition, we find that historically St. Nicholas himself has a semantic counterpart in
the Pelznickel, an expression that could easily have been interpreted or justified, albeit
erroneously, as either as Furry Nicholas or Nicholas with a Fur Coat. The fierce
Pelznickel goes by many other names, for example, in Austria the creature is known as
the Krampus while in other parts of Germany two of the most popular names are Hans

69
For a particularly cogent analysis of the bellsnickles and Christmas mumming as well as the connections
between the bellsnickles, Zwarte Piet and the Caribbean counterparts of this furry figure, cf. Siefker
(1997: 7-39), particularly her Chapter 3, His Clothes Were All Tarnished With Ashes and Soot. Also
there is the reproduction of a curious painting with the heading: The Black Pete figure that accompanied
Saint Nicholas on his Christmas expeditions also accompanied women saints on their gift-giving rounds, as
shown above. Black Petes role was to threaten misbehaving children and rattle his chain(1997: 11). In
short, Siefker suggests that Black Pete was an accepted companion for female saints, not just bishops like
St. Nicholas. Unfortunately, no source is provided for the painting.
 108

Trapp and Knecht Ruprecht (Miles [1912] 1976: 218-221, 231-232; Mller and Mller
1999; Rodrguez 1997: 103-104) (Figure 4).70

Figure 4. St. Nikolaus Eve. Source: WeberKellermann (1978: 27).

The Krampus is a rather scary creature who appears either alone or in the company of an
individual dressed as a bishop. The latter wears a long flowing robe or coat trimmed with
fur and carries a staff. In zones where the two characters appear together, the pair plays
the role of white and black inquisitors (Halpert 1969: 43) (Figures 5 & 6).

70
For further discussion of these characters as well as excellent illustrations of them, cf. WeberKellermann
(1978: 24-42).
 109

Figure 5. Painting by Franz Xaver von Paumgartten: Christmas Eve and St. Nicholas with the Krampus.
Vienna 1820. (Museen der Stadt Wien). Reproduced in WeberKellermann (1978: 26).

Figure 6. Krampus. Austrian postcard from circa 1900.

Far from being a long forgotten tradition, the customary visits by the Krampus and his
Bishop are alive and well, indeed, thriving in modern-day Austria, where Krampus
troupes have sprung up across the land. For instance, in places like Salzburg, Krampus
performers number, quite literally, in the hundreds (Figures 7, 8 & 9). Once again I
would emphasize that the creature they call the Krampus, albeit furry and horned, is not
viewedat least not consciouslyas a bear or bear-like being.
 110

Figure 7. Krampus Group. Salzburg, December 2002. Source: http://www.krampusverein-

anras.com/home.htm.

Figure 8. Nikolaus und Krampus. Pettneu am Arlberg, December 2003. Karl C. Berger.71

71
For a remarkable contemporary enactment, cf. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gSn4KBA_XPI.
 111

Figure 9. A very large Krampus. December 2002. Source:

http://www.luehrmann.at/BildderWoche/2002/02-12-04-krampus.jpg.

In other instances, the fur-clad horned creature known as the Krampus takes on a
somewhat more child-friendly appearance (Figures 10 & 11).
 112

Figure 10. Waidhofen Station: Krampus performers preparing to catch a special steam locomotive that will
take them to Ybbsitz, Austria. December 2, 2006. Source:
http://www.ybbstalbahn.at/nostalgie__alt.htm.

Figure 11. Entrance of Nikolaus and the Krampus in Dorplatz, Austria. December 2, 2006. Source:
http://www.ybbstalbahn.at/nostalgie__alt.htm.

In other contemporary European versions of this performance piece, for example, in

Amsterdam, the Christian bishop Nicholas called Sinterklaas, dressed in white or red,
enters first, followed by Zwarte Piet (Black Peter), his dark-faced companion (Chris
1992). The former would interrogate the children and in the case of a good report,
distributes gifts. Meanwhile his black-faced counterpart would stand at the door, poised,
if need be, to administer punishment, lashes, leaving whips, rods or chunks of coal behind
for the misbehaving children. Or he would simply stuff them into the sack that he carried
for that purpose.
 113

Fig. 12. St. Nicholas and his Servant - St. Nikolaas en zijn knecht by J. Schenkman]. Amsterdam: J.
Vlieger, [ca.1885]. Source: http://www.kb.nl/uitgelicht/kinderboeken/sinterklaas/sinterklaas-ill.html.

In the case of Hans Trapp he sometimes accompanied a female figure called Christkind,
although his role was similar to that of the other dark intruders.

Figure 13. Christkind and Hans Trapp in Elsace 1850. Reproduced in Weber-Kellermann (1978:
35).
 114

It should be noted that when only one figure appears, e.g., the Pelzmrte or Pelznickel,
Hans Trapp or Knecht Ruprecht,72 he is in charge of distributing both punishments and
rewards, although he too strikes fear into the hearts of children (Figures 13 & 14). In this
sense, the characteristics associated with these figures correspond more closely with the
older profile of this fearsome creature.

Figure 14. Franz von Pocci (18071876): Der Pelzmrtel, 1846. Reproduced in WeberKellermann
(1978: 32).

The menacing nature of the eighteenth and nineteenth century portrayals of the Pelznickel
and Knecht Ruprecht provides us with a way to gauge, albeit indirectly, the kind of the
discourse employed by adults at that point in time, as they explained to their offspring the
dangers of misbehaving: failure to obey could result in a frightening punishment; the
child might be stuffed into the sack (or basket) of this night visitor and carried off to meet
a horrible fate (Figure 15).

72
For an interesting discussion of Knecht Ruprecht and his European counterparts, cf.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Companions_of_Saint_Nicholas.
 115

Figure. 15. Franz Regi Gz. Knecht Ruprecht 1784. Reproduced in WeberKellermann (1978: 32).

Moreover, there is every indication that the fur-clad horned creature was even more
frightening in times past, as is suggested by representations of his Austrian counterpart,
the Krampus.

2.2 Good-luck visits and ritual cleansings

In the Mittelmark the name of de hle Christ (the Holy Christ) is given strangely to a
skin- or straw-clad man, elsewhere called Knecht Ruprecht, Klas, or Joseph (Figure 15).
In the Ruppin district the man dresses up in white, with ribbons, carries a large pouch,
and is called Christmann or Christpuppe. He is accompanied by a Schimmelreiter and a
troupe of Feien with blackened faces.73 As the procession goes round from house to
house, the Schimmelreiter enters first, followed by Christpuppe who makes the children
repeat some verse of Scripture or a hymn; if they know it well, he rewards them with
gingerbreads from his wallet; if not, he beats them with a bundle filled with ashes. Then
both he and the Schimmelreiter dance and pass on. Only then are the Feien allowed to
enter; they jump about and frighten the children (Miles [1912] 1976: 230-231) (Figures
16, 17, 18). Indeed, the ritual of smearing ashes on the faces of those encountered, as well
as the fact that ashes form an integral part of the make-up of the performers themselves,
are recurrent features of the performances. As such, the use of ashes may have been a

73
The Schimmelreiter is a character associated with the rider on a white or dapple horse, while other
masked celebrants called Feien appeared attired as women, similar to the Kalends maskers condemned by
the early Church. This centaurus-like figure shows up in other parts of Europe and should be considered
one of the characters who regularly take part in these good-luck visits (cf. Frank in press-b).
 116

fundamental component of the good-luck healing ceremonies themselves. There are

many examples of the old European belief in the good luck conferred by ashes,
blackening ones face with them and black creatures in general (Alford 1930: 277 ff;
Barandiaran 1973, II: 375; Creighton 1950: 20-21; Frank 2005b)

Figure 16. St. Nikolaus with his companions in Berchtesgaden, Bavaria 1958. Photo Wolf Lking.
Reproduced in WeberKellermann (1978: 33).
 117

Figure 17. St. Nikolaus with his companions in Bavaria 1958. Photo Wolf Lking. Reproduced in
WeberKellermann (1978: 29).

Figure 18. Oscar Grf (18611902). Perchtenlaufen Festival in Salzburg 1892. Reproduced in Weber
Kellermann (1978: 21).74

74
For more on the Krampus and Perchten runs, cf. the YouTube videos at
http://video.google.com/videosearch?hl=en&q=Krampus%20runs&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&tab=wv# and
for a recent video clip from Pongau, Saltzburg, showing the variety of masks employed and the remarkable
similarity between the Krampus performers and the Sardinian Mamuthones, cf.
 118

At the same time, while at first glance leaving behind chunks of black charcoal would
appear to carry a purely negative connotation, Miles ([1912] 1976: 251-260) has
demonstrated that charcoal was originally viewed in a positive light. Specifically, pieces
of charcoal from the Yule Log were highly valued for their prophylactic characteristics as
were the logs ashes which were carefully collected and utilized for a variety of healing
purposes.75 Moreover, it has been argued that the ethical distinction between good
children and bad children along with the consequent distribution of gifts or blows, is of
comparatively recent origin, an invention perhaps for children when the customs came to
be performed solely for their benefit, and that the beatings and gifts were originally
shared by all alike and were of a sacramental character (Miles [1912] 1976: 207).
Further evidence for structural inversions in gift-giving comes from the fact that in other
parts of Europe it is a troupe of young adults along with their bear (or bears) who visits
the households and expects, in return for their services, to receive, not give, treats of
food and drink (Alford 1928, 1930, 1931, 1937; Praneuf 1989).76
In Europe the ritual cleansings that formed part of the good luck visits included
fumigations, incensing by smoke, and flailing the person with aromatic branches. Such
ceremonies recall similar healing techniques involving smudging with the sacred smoke
of juniper branches, still performed today by Native American medicine men and women
(Brunton 1993: 138). Hence, from a diachronic point of view the European whipping
customs are perhaps better understood not as punishments, but kindly services; their
purpose is to drive away evil influences, and to bring to the flogged one the life-giving
virtues of the tree from which the twigs or boughs are taken (Miles [1912] 1976: 207).
Indeed, wands were often constructed for this purpose from a birch-bough with all the
leaves and twigs stripped off, except at the top, to which oak-leaves and twigs of juniper
pine were attached along with their bright red berries. Devoid of decoration, these rods or

http://www.aeiou.at/aeiou.film.o/o189a, the wide variety of videos at http://www.brauchtumspflegeverein-

anras.com/content/view/25/50/, as well as these pictorial representations of the Krampus:
http://www.galavant.com/krampus/. The regional variation of the costumes and masks is noteworthy, while
performers dressed in straw with blackened faces also are commonplace, e. g., the St. Nikolaus day
characters called Perschtln in the Austrian Tirol.
75
In zones where only one character clad in skins or straw examines children, distributing blows and gifts
alike, e.g., in the case of the Christpuppe or Knecht Ruprecht, ashes play a major role. For example, in
Mechlenburg where he is called r Klas (rough Nicholas), he sometimes wears bells and carries a staff
with a bag of ashes at the end. Hence the name Aschenklas is occasionally given to him. One theory
connects this aspect of him with the Polaznik first footer visitor of the Slavs. On Christmas Day in
Crivoscian farms he goes to the hearth, takes up the ashes of the Yule log and dashes them against the
cauldron-hook above so that sparks fly (Miles [1912] 1976: 231, 252).
76
In the United States, it is common for parents to have their children leave out a plate with cookies along
with a glass of milk for Santa. Naturally, the next morning the food offering has disappeared and nothing
but a few crumbs remain on the plate.
 119

switches became broom-like devices that were used to sweep away unhealthy influences.
Pig bladders attached to poles were also used in such prophylactic flagellations. In short,
blows delivered by the switches and bladders were believed to insure good health,
promote fertility in animals and humans alike as well as the fruitfulness of crops: they
were intended to bring about prosperity in general.

3.0 Marginalization: The transformation of the New World good-luck visitor

In the United States a series of transformations would take place, altering the European
template of these good luck visits and the cast of characters involved in them,
transformations that would lead to the creation of the modern day consumer Santa,
familiar to people around the world. In this process, the dark ursine companion would be
increasingly marginalized. Although there were many forces at work which, acting in
consonance, brought about this situation, a close examination of the facts allows us to
recognize that many of the most familiar aspects of the American Santa Claus are
products of the fertile imaginations of four remarkable individuals: Washington Irving,
Clement C. Moore, Thomas Nast and Haddon Sundblom.
First, we have Washington Irving (17831859) who in his Knickerbockers History of
New York (1809) divested St. Nicholas of his bishops garb and severe inquisitorial
demeanor, took away his bear companion, leaving behind a quintessentially good-natured
bourgeois Dutchman contentedly smoking his long clay pipe. Indeed, in a very short time
Washington Irvings writings managed to turn the popular Sinterklaas or Sinter Klaas of
Holland into the tutelary guardian of New York (Chris 1992: 37-41; Rodrguez 1997;
Webster [1869] 1950).77
The next step in the metamorphosis of the European character was undertaken by
Clement C. Moore, the biblical scholar who, in 1822, wrote his now famous poem An
Account of a Visit from St. Nicholas in which Santa acquired a sled and reindeer. 78 This
poem, in turn, was illustrated by the political cartoonist Thomas Nast in a series of
vignettes published in Harpers Weekly between 1863 and 1886 (Nast St. Hill 1971).

77
For a much finer grained cultural analysis of the evolution of the American Christmas holiday as well as
evidence of European traditions subsisting, especially among the lower classes, cf. Nissenbaum (1997).
78
Composed for his own six childrens diversion, Moores poem first appeared in The Troy Sentinel of New
York on December 23, 1823.
 120

Figure 19. Brown furry-suited Santa. Source:Webster 1869 version of book cover ([1869] 1950).

However, the artist, born in Bavaria, brought with him to New York fond memories of
the Pelznickel whose furry brown body and paws reappear quite clearly in his early
drawings (Nast [1890] 1971: 53) (Figure 19).79 Nasts Santa has been categorized as a
direct descendent of Pelz-Nicol [sic], the counterpart of St. Nicholas ... [and] the
beaming, wholesome Santa Claus of today with his baggy costume gradually evolved
from the more sinister appearing Santa with his furry skin tight costume (Webster
[1869] 1950).80
Finally, in 1931, we find Haddon Sundblom, a publicist for Coca-Cola from Chicago.
It is Sundblom who should be given credit for giving the American Santa his final form,
for crafting that jovial consumer Santa so familiar to children and adults the world over.81
And in a stroke of genius, from 1931 forward the official colors of Coca-Cola, red and

79
In Nasts drawings frequently the creature is shown as elf-like, far smaller than a human being.
80
First published about 1870, Websters poem Santa Claus and his Works, loosely based on Moores
poem, was also illustrated by Nast, while somewhat earlier, in 1863, in the Christmas edition of Harpers
Weekly it was Nasts drawings that illustrated Moores poem and showed Santa with his sleigh and reindeer
much as Moore had described him (Nast [1890] 1971: 6-7).
81
According to Chris (1992: 57), although most of the United States did not legally recognize Christmas
until the latter half of the nineteenth century, by the 1840's it was already being seen very much as a
childrens festival.... For a more finely grained analysis of the socio-cultural and economic factors
affecting the transformation of these European traditions into the American version of Christmas, cf.
Nissenbaum (1997).
 121

white, would be identified year after year with the bright colors of Santas suit (Chris
1992; Rodrguez 1997: 107-132). The Chicago artist reworked Nasts chubby bear-like
Santa into a taller, ever smiling and more humanized version, the ideal grandfather,
basing his paintings initially on the face of his friend Lou Prince and upon the death of
the latter, on his own.
One of Nasts illustrations provides us with a particularly a good example of how
entrenched customs can be modified, if not erased. That is, the way that (unconscious)
beliefs and as well as other circumstances can come into play in order to make the past
appear to conform more closely with the present. In this instance, we have the example of
the original cover page from the 1869 edition where Nasts childhood memories of the
furry Pelznickels are clearly evident in the brown tones of the creatures fuzzy costume
and paws (Figure 19). However, when this book was reprinted, in 1950 (Webster [1869]
1950), a decision was taken with respect to the cover of the new edition to alter the colors
of the earlier illustration, remove the Peltznickels brown paws, and replace them with
furry white mittens (Figure 20). That choice brought the color-coding of the books cover
into greater conformance with what was, by the 1950s, the conventional view of the
colors associated with the Coca-Cola Santa, namely, red and white. Quite possibly those
in charge of deciding on the packaging of the book were doing nothing more sinister than
attempting to make it as visually marketable as possible. Luckily, those in charge of the
reprint also decided to include a color reproduction of the original cover from the 1869
edition, in the 1950 edition of the book.
 122

Figure 20. Red-colored cover of Websters book of Nasts drawings. Source: Webster ([1869] 1950).

Almost every year from 1931 to 1964 Sundblom painted new illustrations for Coca-
Cola and their annual Christmas advertising campaign. These advertisements appeared in
Saturday Evening Post, Ladies Home Journal, National Geographic, Life, etc., as well as
on billboards and point-of-purchase store displays. As Berryman (1995) has noted: The
Coca-Cola Companys large advertising budget ensured that Sundbloms distinctive
vision of Santa received massive exposure across the country and around the world.
Unquestionably the jolly, fully human Santa figure popularized by Coca-Cola was a
successful ambassador of feel-good consumerism and optimism and, like Moores Santa,
he was plump and grandfatherly with twinkling eyes and a hearty laugh.82
In short, the massively successful publicity campaigns surrounding these illustrations,
still used by Coca-Cola today, are undoubtedly one of the major reasons for the rapid
diffusion of the image of the American Santa Claus throughout the world (Chris 1992:
108-132; Rodrguez 1997) and the consequent loss from our collective consciousness of
the European bear ancestor. In the United States the sack is stuffed not with terrified
children, but with candies and toys. By this point, we might argue that the conversion of
the animal-like creature into an inoffensive, child-friendly bearer of consumer goods is

82
For a large sampling of representations of Sundbloms Coca-Cola Santa as well as an analysis of the
publicity campaign associated with them, cf. http://www.angelfire.com/trek/hillmans/xmascoke.html.
 123

nearly complete, while the good-luck visits have ended up having primarily children as
their beneficiaries, rather than adults, at least in the United States. Yet this fact should not
lead us to the nave conclusion that the transformation has been uniform or that the only
image left is that of the rosy-cheeked American Santa. Rather, for example, as has been
indicated in this study, in Austria still today we discover the older horrific image of the
Krampus, the creature who goes after innocent passersby, often striking fear in the hearts
of misbehaving children, all of which is another sign of the continuing strength of this
ancient and quite indigenous ursine tradition of Europe.

4.0 Generational down-grading: A different perspective

In the previous sections of this study we documented the fact that there has been a
generational down-grading with respect these customs: those who believe in the reality of
the furry creature and the importance of behaving properly in order to get a good report
card are now primarily children. Yet, even in the case of Santa Claus which is the most
recent manifestation of the older belief complex, every child goes through a phase of
believing that Santa is omniscient and will judge them. These supernatural powers are
inculcated in the child by means of parental collusion as well as by popular culture. For
example, everyone in the United States knows the words to the song called Santa Claus
is Coming to Town, played endlessly during the Christmas holidays. Since 1934, the
words of this song have impressed on children the magical powers attributed to this night
visitor:
Oh! You better watch out,
You better not cry,
You better not pout,
I'm telling you why:
Santa Claus is coming to town!
He's making a list,
He's checking it twice,
He's gonna find out
who's naughty or nice.
Santa Claus is coming to town!
He sees you when you're sleeping,
He knows when you're awake.
He knows when you've been bad or good,
So be good for goodness sake!

Granted, the American version of the main character projects a more child-friendly
and far less threatening personality than its European counterparts, the disturbingly
ominous semi-bestial creatures who continue to form part of European performance art.
Still, even the most recent version of the belief complex requires the assumption that the
 124

being in question is endowed with supernatural powers: that it is omniscient, capable of

knowing exactly what the child has been doing throughout the year. Building on this
assumption, adults have invoked the name of the character in question in order to get the
child to behave. Thus, the generational down-grading makes children the target of the
moral scrutiny of the character in question: young people are the ones interrogated and
whose actions are watched over, so to speak, by this tutelary guardian being.

4.1 Hamalau-Zaingo: Interlocking meanings

Speaking of the process of generational down-grading, there is reason to believe that
earlier the actions of adults were also subject to a similar type of scrutiny. This
conclusion is based to the strong possibility that in times past there existed a flesh and
blood counterpart of this guardian figure, concretely, an official who was in charge of
guarding the social norms of the entire community. Here we need to keep in mind the
linkages holding between the term hamalau and the title that was conferred on the
judicial official known as the Hamalau-Zaingo, whose duties included watching over the
collective in question. In short, this individual appears to have been charged with keeping
track of those members of the community who misbehaved in some way, violating the
communitys norms. Furthermore, there is reason to believe that the duties that fell to the
Hamalau-Zaingo included acting as a kind of judge, determining the seriousness of the
infraction or crime; imposing the appropriate punishment as well as perhaps seeing that it
was carried out properly. In the case of Zuberoa, the individual who held this office even
had immunity from prosecution as indicated in the law codes from the same zone
(Haristoy 1883-1884: 384-385). In other words, in Euskal Herria we find evidence
pointing to the existence of a kind of judge, a guardian figure whose title included the
term hamalau.
Likewise, Azkue (1969: I, 36) explains that the being known as the amalauzaku
(hamalauzaku) is "el B, fantasma imaginario con que se asusta los nios" (the fantastic
being, the imaginary phantom that is used to frighten children). Then in the Diccionario
Retana de Autoridades de la Lengua Vasca (Sota 1976: 251) under the variant of amalau-
zanko we find a similar definition:
B, fantasma. 'Uraxe bai izugarri! Benetan, ! Espiritu bat ikusi nian. Bai zea! Amalau zankoa?" [A
fantastic being, phantom. That one is awful frightening! Really, dont you agree? I saw a ghost.
Really!! Was it Amalau zankoa?]

Finally, another example of the same phonological variant, namely, (h)amalauzanko, is

listed in Michelena (1987, I, 874):
 125

Baita umiak izutzeko askotan aipatu oi diran izen. Amalauzanko, Prailemotxo, Ipixtiku eta beste
orrelekorak, lehengoko deabru, gaizki edo jainkoizunen oroipenak izan bear dute. [Also the names that
are commonly used to frighten children. Amalauzanko, Prailemotxo, Ipixtiku and other similar ones
must be recollections of devils, demons or gods of times past.]

In short, these phonological variants of Hamalau-Zaingo refer to the guardian figure who
is invoked today by adults to threaten children.
Furthermore, we find variants of the compound expression hamalau-zaingo showing
up as (h)amalauzanko and (h)amalauzaku in the name given to a class of performers. In
this case, the phonological reduction of the compound hamalau-zaingo has been
accompanied by a reanalysis of the phonologically reduced form itself. Here I refer to
what has happened in villages such as Lesaca where there are colorful, albeit rather
grotesquely proportioned, figures that go by the name of azaku-zaharrak, where the
second element is the plural of zahar old.83 The phonological erosion suffered by the
expression might have developed as follows: hamalau-zaingo-zaharrak > *(hama)lau-
za(in)ko-zaharrak > *lauzaku-zaharrak > azaku-zaharrak.
It was not until the 1970s that these characters were recuperated in Lesaca and their
name re-introduced, after nearly a forty year hiatus, given that during the Franco period
the characters were absent.84 Today the performers appearance is manipulated so as to
make them appear extremely bulky, larger than life, similar to En Peirot of Catalunya, a
character we will examine in more detail shortly. In order to achieve this effect, the actors
stuff their costumes with straw, while the costumes themselves are made out of gunny
sacks. As a result, the expression azaku-zaharrak ([Ihauteriak] 1992) has undergone
further phonological erosion and semantic reanalysis, being reduced, at least by some
writers, to zaku-zaharrak, and interpreted, erroneously, as meaning sacos viejos (old
sacks) as if the first element corresponded to the old gunny sacks used to make the
costumes.

83
Cf. http://www.flickr.com/photos/dantzan/724061073/
84
Even earlier, there was no specific date for when the zaku-zaharrak were supposed to appear, rather from
January 6th until the beginning of Carnival the various groups of performers would take turns coming out
into the streets. Then on the Monday of Carnival all the groups of performers would come together, which
could produce rivalries between the zaku-zaharrak of the various wards of the village ([diariodenavarra.es]
n.d.).
 126

Fig. 21. Lesaka Zaku Zaharrak, 2007. Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/dantzan/724934332/in/set-

72157600656899313/

In summary, in the case of the compound hamalau-zaingo we find three intertwined

meanings that, in turn, reveal three distinct yet interlocking aspects or characteristics that
are closely associated with the entity in question. First, the phonologically eroded
variants of hamalauzanko and hamalauzaku appear to be reflexes of the name of the
official who was in charge of watching over the community and insuring that its norms
and rules of conduct were observed; second, we note that it is the name assigned to the
fantastic being invoked to make children behave; and finally, it shows up in the name of a
bizarre bear-like masked performer, the hamalauzaku. Stitching these clues together we
discover a clear pattern, one that illuminates yet another dimension of the Hamalau
cultural complex: that in all likelihood the individual who was in charge of watching over
the community was also the individual who dressed in a particular fashion, not like the
other members of the community, and was also expected to take an active part in public
rituals, if not preside over them. Therefore, it would not have been illogical for adults to
invoke the name of this official when telling their children that if they didnt behave they
would be carried off and punished by him (or her). Yet at the same time, standing behind
the official in question was a more terrifying creature of supernatural dimensions, the
half-human, half-bear figure of Hamalau, the intermediary between humans and bears,
identified as well with the ominous night visitor or sensed presence.
In addition, keeping in mind the processes involved in generational down-grading, if
we attempt to combine all of these characteristics into a single coherent narrative we are
confronted once more with the strong possibility that the attribution of omniscience to
this creature on the part of adults, i.e., when speaking to children, reflects an earlier belief
held by adults themselves: a belief on their part in the supernatural powers of this being.
 127

In short, to assume that in times past the cultural conceptualization in question was
equated with a particular notion of divinity would not be too far-fetched. This leads us
back to Perurenas suggestion that Hamalau might be best understood as a kind of pre-
Christian deity (Hamalaua, gure Jaingo Fourteen, our god) (Perurena 1993: 265;
2000).
As is well recognized, Western concepts of divinity tend to be informed by the notion
of transcendence and moral authority, that is, a conceptual framework that projects a
distant, otiose high god, physically removed from the world of humans and nature,
although judgmental, nevertheless. In contrast, the ursine cosmology embodies a more
animistic framework, grounded much more in the here and now, in nature itself. Thus, the
source of authority seems to more immediate, less remote and more accessible. Both
humans and bears are implicated as is, by extension, the rest of nature. Thus, rather than
projecting a lofty high god, a transcendent being separate from humans and nature, the
ursine cosmology seems to incarnate a radically different and more all encompassing
vision of reality, self and other.
In conclusion, when analyzed from the perspective of generational down-grading, we
see ample evidence of adults being fully complicit in terms of transmitting and promoting
the belief in this supernatural being, actively endeavoring to inculcate the belief in the
minds of their children. Yet adults themselves no longer actually share the belief. In other
words, what we find are adults and children operating with different interpretive
frameworks. However, as has been stated, there is every reason to assume that the belief
system implicated by the actions of the adults represents a residual pattern of belief once
held by the wider community.
Likewise, although adults are no longer the target of the modern day interrogations,
e.g., as carried out by St. Nicholas and his furry companion, it would appear that in times
past the adult members of the community were not exempt from moral scrutiny. For
instance, we have the example of the comic critique which still forms part of the structure
of good-luck visits. That component clearly is directed at evaluating the behavior of
those visited, albeit in a satiric fashion. This suggests that a similar component could
have been present earlier and that it once formed an integral, even obligatory, part of the
ritual.
Finally, we are left with two additional questions, neither of which has a clear answer.
The questions concern the nature of the relationship holding between the individual
performing the role of Hamalau-Zaingo and the figure of Hamalau. First, we might ask
how we should characterize this relationship if we assign a supernatural dimension to
Hamalau. And the second question that we might ask is how that relationship impacted
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the way that human animals viewed their ursine non-human brethren. Again, even by
drawing on all the information collected to date neither of these questions has an easy
answer.

5.0 Cross-cultural comparisons: Artifacts from the Pyrenean-Cantabrian refugium

When we compare the path taken by the various linguistic and cultural artifacts under
analysis we find a curious pattern. On the one hand, in certain locations the bear
character has essentially disappeared from view, being supplanted by St. Nicholas and/or
his more modern counterpart Santa Claus. Undoubtedly, Christianity has played a role in
these transformations. Yet, at the same time, in Germanic-speaking zones we find the
older figure standing, quite literally, alongside the modern Christianized character. In
other words, the original figure has not been erased. Quite the contrary, the Austrian
Krampus is still a very frightening creature.
In the case of the linguistic and cultural artifacts drawn from zones inside the
Pyrenean-Cantabrian refugium and/or closely linked to it, e.g., the Sardinian materials,
we find a different symbolic regime operating where the main character did not undergo
the same sort of Christianization. Here I refer to the Basque figure of Hamalau itself and
its variants (e.g., in Mamu, Marrau, Hamalauzango/Hamalauzaku, etc.) as well as the
Sardinian conceptual equivalents (e.g., variants in marragau, marragotti, mommotti,
mamudinu, mamuthones, etc.) on the one hand, and on the other the frightening creature
encountered within the geographical reach of the Pyrenean-Cantabrian refugium, referred
to generically as LHome del Sac and, more specifically, embodied in figures such as the
Catalan Marraco, as it was originally understood.85
What is unusual is the fact that in this region of Europe the belief and associated
performance art survived on the margins of Christianity. In all probability part of the
reason for this lies in the fact that the Church managed to promote a different biblically-
based Christianized identity for the gift-bringers, namely, the Three Kings who were in
charge of bringing presents to well-behaved children on January 6th. That strategic choice
on the part of the Catholic Church, whether fortuitous or deliberate, allowed the belief in
the older more ambivalent guardian figure to continue to operate on the margins of the
dominant cultural discourse. There the character went on fulfilling its role as an
asustanios even though with time adults would invoke its name less frequently.
Nevertheless, as we shall soon discover, in locations such as Catalunya, just as in
Germanic-speaking countries, the Christianization process was incomplete and in some
85
In this respect I would mention the Basque figure of Olentzaro who will be discussed in detail in the next
chapter of this investigation.
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locations the furry creature continued to appear along with its Christianized brethren into
recent times.

5.1 Iberian bogey-men

Writing in 1950s, the renowned Catalan ethnographer Joan Amades prepared a series of
studies exploring what he called ogros infantiles. He uses this term to refer to the same
class of monstrous beings invoked by adults to frighten their offspring that we have been
discussing throughout this chapter (Amades 1951, 1952, 1957). Among the most popular
of these figures is En Pelut which translates as the Hairy One or the Shaggy One and
which Amades describes as the asustachicos cataln:
En Bsquera, Montagut, Tortell y por otros lugarejos de la Garrotxa, en vsperas de Navidades
intimidan a los chicos traviesos con el Pelut o Peludo, hombrn alto y fornido cual un roble, negro
como el holln y peludo cual un oso, que habla estentrea y bruscamente, el cual ronda en busca de
chicos traviesos, que carga en un enorme saco que trae a cuestas para celebrar con ellos unas buenas
Pascuas. [In Bsquera, Montagut, Tortell and other localities of Garrotxa, on the evenings preceding
Christmas they intimidate mischievous children with the Pelut or Peludo, a very large man, tall and
muscular as a oak tree, black as soot and shaggy as a bear, who speaks in a brusque stentorian fashion,
and who goes about looking for mischievous children, who he carries off in an enormous sack that he
has on his back in order to enjoy with them a sumptuous feast.] (Amades 1957: 274)
Amades goes on to say:
A veces, para dar ms efectividad a la farsa, un vecino bien alto y robusto, cubierto con pieles de
carnero negro, que algn da debieron ser de oso, cargado con un saco repleto de paja al hombro, al
anochecer visita los hogares donde hay chicos dscolos, vociferando que viene a por ellos para
zamprselos en Nochebuena. Los ruegos de los mayores y las splicas de los amenazados le convencen
de que se vaya, lo cual hace muy a regaadientes. [Sometimes, in order to make the farce more
effective, a tall and robust neighbor covered in the skins of a black ram, skins that earlier were probably
those of a bear, bearing a sack filled with straw on his shoulder, visits around nightfall those households
where there are disobedient children, crying out that he will be coming to get them, to swallow them up
on Christmas Eve. The entreaties of the adults and the pleadings of those threatened convince him that
he should leave, which he does very unwillingly.] (Amades 1957: 274-275)

Supposedly, one of the other functions of En Pelut was to give a report to the Three
Kings concerning the conduct of children. In contrast to the way this was set up in
Germanic-speaking countries where St. Nicholas would often arrive accompanied by his
dark furry companion, here we have a bear-like creature arriving alone, well ahead of the
Three Kings, and operating autonomously. Also, we see that it is En Pelut who is in
charge of determining whether the children have misbehaved and, supposedly, later
transmitting that report to the Christianized three-some of gift-bringers (Mano Negra
2005). In this sequence of events there is a kind of discrepancy in that the date assigned
for the definitive punishmentwhen the creature says he will returnis Christmas Eve,
i.e., the Winter Solstice, not January 6th.
 130

While there are significant parallels with respect to the way that the Catalan
representation of the creature has evolved alongside Christianity, what is perhaps most
remarkable about this Catalan custom is the recognition on the part of Amades that in all
likelihood in times past the person dressed up in a bear skin. Although Amades does not
directly associate En Pelut with a bear, he does add these comments:
Por los valles altos pirenaicos de la regin leridana se haba acudido asimismo al oso, y en
Andorra, a su hembra, la osa, mucho ms temible an que ste. La representacin del oso
danzarn haba sido muy frecuente en Carnaval; y, cual En Peirot o el Marraco, los nios lo
miraban con pavor, no como un fiero animal, sino en su condicin de traganios traviesos. [In the
high Pyrenean valleys of the region of Lrida, they have also resorted to the bear, and in
Andorra, to the female bear, which is even more fearsome than the former. The representation
of a dancing bear is very common during Carnival; and, like En Peirot or the Marraco, children
looked at it with terror, not because it was as a wild animal, but rather because of its condition
as a devourer of disobedient children.] (Amades 1957: 269-270)

In the example above, we find that the conflation of the two meanings is complete:
the frightful being invoked by adults is identified precisely with the performer
dressed as a bear (Figure 22).

Figure 22. Mascarada del Oso. Xarallo.LAllars. Source: Amades (1957).86

In the traditional festivals of the town of Solsona four bears took part,
performers whose presence terrified of the children of Solsona, Vall del Hort and
Ribera Salada, meanwhile their parents would repeatedly speak to their offspring
about the bears to in order to make them obey (Amades 1957: 270). Based on the
only photo I have found of them, today they look like harmless Disney-like characters,

86
From a drawing made by Amades based on a work of J. No located in the Museo de Industrias y Artes
Populares del Pueblo Espaol in Barcelona.
 131

indeed, looking more like mice than bears. However, in times past there was a dearth of
images other than those found in ones own everyday environment, no television, no
magazines, no Internet. So any unfamiliar creature, especially a strange unnatural masked
one, would have given any child goose-bumps. Also, we do not know how these four
bears dressed centuries ago (Fig. 23).

Figure 23. Los osos. Solsona-Solsons. Source: Amades (1957).

In the passages cited above Amades mentions another performer known as En Peirot.
According to Amades, the characteristics of this ogre appear to replicate those of the
Sardinian Marragau, although its name, En Peirot, bears no resemblance to any of the
phonological variants of Hamalau we have discussed so far. It is noteworthy that
geographically speaking this performer also inhabits the region of Lrida where in a
certain sense it must have competed (or co-habited) with performers dressed as bears.
Amades describes the participation of this actor as follows:
Por las altas comarcas leridanas, el terror de la chiquillera era el Peirot, que durante el Carnaval
sala a danzar a la plaza al son de una cancin dedicada a l []. Para dar la sensacin de que estaba
enormemente gordo, a causa del gran nmero de criaturas malas que se haba tragado, el disfrazado
esconda un par de almohadas debajo del vestido, con lo que adquira un aspecto deforme y grotesco. La
chiquillera quedaba aterrorizada al verle por sus propios ojos, dndoles una sensacin de realidad que
daba gran eficacia a la palabra de los mayores cuando le invocaban. [In the high districts of Lrida, what
terrorized the crowds of small children was the Peirot, who during Carnival would come out to dance in
the plaza to the sound of a song dedicated to him []. In order to give the sensation that he was
enormously fat, because of the large number of bad kids that he had swallowed up, the masked figure
would hide a pair of pillows under his costume, with the result being that he took on a deformed and
grotesque shape. The crowds of children were horrified upon seeing him with their own eyes, which
gave them the impression that he was real, a sensation that made the words used by their elders when
they invoked his name extremely effective.] (Amades 1957: 275)87

87
Although Amades explains that the custom of stuffing the performers costume with pillows to give it
more bulk was explained by the wanting to give the impression that he was fat from eating so many
 132

Amades (1957: 270) also points out that a figure called Peirotu appears in this
capacity of a tragachicos on the French side of the Pyrenees. In spite of the fact
that the names Peirot and Peirotu bear no resemblance to the phonological variants
of Hamalau studied so far, the characteristics attributed to Peirot and Peirotu are
remarkably similar in many respects.
In the town of Lrida we find a carnival performer called Marraco, quite
comparable to En Peirot, whose body size was also exaggerated by stuffing pillows
inside the actors costume. This was the case before the towns-people decided to
construct a new, highly elaborated version of the fearsome yet amorphous being
called Marraco (Amades 1957: 275). Indeed, we discover that the ursine connections of
the character were essentially eliminated when the decision was taken to give a concrete
physical shape to the Marraco, the creature that devoured children. According to Amades
(1957: 268-269), at one point the officialdom of Lrida decided that they wanted to
construct an impressive animal-like figure of monstrous proportions in order to enhance
the visual appeal of the local Carnival festivities. After some discussion, it occurred to
them that the best choice would be to give plastic form to the fabulous Marraco.
Apparently, as adults, those in charge of making this decision still remembered the fear
they had experienced as children when their parents reprimanded them, in short, the
abstract sense of terror that the Marraco had aroused in them.
However, by this point in time it is clear that the authorities in question were seeking
to devise not some horrendously frightful creature, but rather something that would be an
attractive addition to the local festivities, a source of entertainment for the community. In
other words, the belief in the Marraco was losing its grip. As a result, they ordered the
construction of an enormous animal and had it mounted on a chassis with wheels so that
it could move through the streets. The antediluvian creature was equipped an enormous
mouth. That way children could enter though this aperture and by means of a special
internal device, they were moved along gently inside the bowels of the creature so that
upon emerging from it, they ended up being deposited, quite safely, on the ground
(Amades 1957: 268-269).
The first Marraco, made of cardboard, fell apart and was substituted by another
incredibly bigger one. While the new version was also mounted on wheels, it no longer
was capable of swallowing up the little ones as its predecessor did. In short, the child-
eating Marraco that previously had inhabited every childs imagination, albeit with an

children, this explanation might well be false. Instead, there is reason to believe that the bulky nature of the
costume was, at least in part, a desirein times pastto make the performer take on a bear-like
appearance.
 133

amorphous shape, was now given a concrete plastic representation and, consequently,
deftly converted into an innocuous object of entertainment (Figure 24).

Figure 24. The Marraco of Lrida. Source: Amades (1957)

5.2 Another linguistic variant

Finally, in other zones still within the geographical limits of the Pyrenean-Cantabrian
refugium or quite nearby we find that the menacing asustachicos goes by several names
quite similar to each another, suggesting that they share a common etymology. For
instance, we have the Papu which in Catalunya has been perhaps the most popular name
for this character. Also, in many regions of Catalunya the word papu means worm,
insect or any little non-flying animal (Amades 1957: 255). The latter meanings coincide
closely with meanings found in Sardu for a number of words based on the stem of mamu-
, e.g., mamusu; it also has parallels in Euskera in meanings associated with the terms
mamu, mamarro, mamorru, mamurru, mamarrao and mamor, namely, worm, insect,
very small animal (Michelena 1987: XII, 37-38).
In Basque this definition may well be rooted in an animistic belief that attributed to
these beings special transformative spiritual powers. The word field comprised by these
terms also includes small beings, tiny magical semi-human creatures, often helpful to
humans but of a rather indefinite shape. As such, they appear incarnate in the form of
insects, as if the latter were capable of shape-shifting, undergoing metamorphosis, taking
on a disguise, e.g., as a larva might be understood to shape-shift when it becomes a
chrysalis and then magically turn into a butterfly. For example, in Euskera mamutu
carries meanings related to putting on a mask or otherwise disguising oneself; to
becoming enchanted, astonished, astounded or put under a spell; more literally it
means to become a mamu while the verb mamortu, from the root mamor-, means both
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to become enchanted and to form oneself into a chrysalis or to become an insect

(Michelena 1987: XII, 56-59). In some Spanish-speaking zones these magical beings are
called mamures or mamarros (cf. Barandiaran 1994: 79; Gmez-Legos 1999; Guiral,
Espinosa and Sempere 1991).

5.3 Exploring etymological origins of Romance terms

Amades (1957: 255) suggests that names like Papu and Babau (as well as Papao found
in Portugal), Bubota and Bub that we find the Baleares, all of which are associated with
the figure of LHome del Sac, might be explained by their association with the verb papar
to suck, to swallow without chewing, that in turn is linked etymologically to Castilian
papo and Catalan pap throat, lower part of an animals neck. In passing, we need to
mention that as far west as Portugal we find Papao and at the same time there is Babau
which is especially well known in the Pyrenean region of Roussillon, including
Rivesaltes.88 Finally, the latter term would appear to coincide with the Babau of the
Italian Peninsula.
While Amades tentatively links the etymology of Papu and the others to papar, there
is another way of approaching the problem. First, we need to return to our Sardinian
linguistic evidence. Examining the dialectal variants of momotti babau, we find
bobbotti babau; similarly, we find that mommoi has a variant in bobboi, both words
meaning mangiabambini, mannaro, spauracchio, insecto (Rubattu 2006). From this it is
evident that we have an alternation in /m/ and /b/. Furthermore, since we have argued that
the forms in /m/ are quite archaic, it would follow that the words with /b/ are
phonological variants of the latter. Hence, we can apply this phonological shift to the
examples cited above, e.g., Papu, Babau, etc.
However, before we do so, we need to look at one more dialectal variant of Mamu,
namely, Mahu which in turn is regularly duplicated as Mahu-Mahu in the region of
Valcarlos in Low Navarre. The latter is also a proper noun, the name of the night
visitor and hence should be added to our list composed of Mamu and Marrau as well as
Hamalauzango/Hamalauzaku. In the following saying which Basque-speaking parents

88
In the case of the monstrous child-eater of Rivesaltes it, too, was eventually turned into a dragon-like
animal. Its presence is justified by a charming yet highly elaborated local legend: an allegedly ancient
account about how the Babau, a monster, if not a dragon, [] breached the defences of the town and
devoured several infants (cf. http://www.perillos.com/babau.html). What is perhaps most striking about
the legend is the way it assigns to the tragic event the dates of February 2 and 3, namely, to Candlemas
Bear Day and the day after whose patron saint is St. Blaise. And as is well recognized, in France
traditionally the bear or bear-hunt has been associated with the feast of Candlemas and the day after, when
the feast of St. Blaise is celebrated, while the latter saint is renowned both for his healing abilities and his
role as the guardian saint of bears.
 135

used with their children, we find that the creature being addressed is called mamu,
marrau as well as mahumahu. Satrstegui (1987: 17) points out that as the parent would
say these words to the child, the adult would clench her fingers to form claws and gesture
as if trying to seize the child. Consequently, this gesture served to further impress upon
the child the kind of fate that awaited her as well as illustrate the fearsome nature of the
creature being invoked by the parent.
Mahumahu! [Mahumahu!]
Jan zak haur hau [Eat this child.]
Bihar ala gaur? [Tomorrow or today?]
Gaur, gaur, gaur. [Today, today, today.] (Satrstegui 1987)

In sum, we see that in this Basque-speaking zone mamu developed a variant in mahu.
Drawing on the alternation /m/ to /b/, it would not be difficult to imagine a developmental
pattern where there was an initial alteration or competition between two forms, namely,
mamu and mahu and/or between mamu and babu. This in turn could have led to to a
developmental path such as: mamu mahu babu papu. Or one could imagine an
even simpler developmental sequence: mamu babu papu. Consequently, it would
follow that the expressions papu, babu, papao, and babau are nothing more than
phonological variants based on the same etymological template and belonging to the
same lineage. Therefore, they should be viewed as deriving ultimately from hamalau.
The logic of this reconstruction is reinforced by the fact that the referent evoked by these
expressions is essentially identical: it is the same fearsome creature, instantiated socio-
culturally in a very similar fashion across the entire geographical region. In short, there
has been significant stability in the nature of the referent itself.

5.4. Exploring a final Basque variant: Inguma

Among the phonological variants of hamalau, e.g. marrau and mamua, Satrstegui also
cites the following expressions encountered in Valcarlos, Low Navarre: mahumahu,
mahu-mahuma, mahoma, mahuma and inguma. The terms mamua, mahuma, etc. are
listed as synonyms of inguma (Lhande 1926: 512). The form inguma appears to represent
a much later, more specialized phonological development of the term hamalau since it,
too, is applied to the sensed presence or night visitor (Satrstegui 1981a, b, 1987). In
the case of inguma, the word has no obvious root-stem in Basque. This fact suggests that
there are two possible paths for its etymology: 1) it is a borrowed term from an unknown
source or perhaps from Lat. incubus, as Trask (1999) once suggested; or 2) it is an
indigenous term whose etymology has become obscured. Given that inguma is used to
refer to the sensed presence or night visitor we have been discussing, its semantic
referent and content is synonymous with that of mamua, marrau, etc.. Hence, perhaps the
 136

most logical etymological choice would be one based on the following set of
phonological shifts: hamalau > *mamalau > mahumahu > mahuma > *maguma >
inguma.
In discussing the various terms that exist in Euskara for butterfly, Trask made the
following comment:
Inguma (G) (1745). This curious word does not look like an expressive formation. But the same word is
recorded from 1664 as 'incubus, succubus'. We may therefore surmise a possibly unattested Late Latin
*incuba 'female incubus, succubus', which, if borrowed into Basque, would regularly yield the attested
inguma. The motivation is not obvious, but I have seen pictures of the night-demons portraying them as
perched on top of the bodies of their sleeping victims, so maybe the butterfly's habit of perching is the
motivation. (Trask 1999).

In contrast to Trasks proposed etymology, based on an unattested Late Latin form, I

would argue that another argument in favor of preferring an indigenous etymology is the
fact that inguma refers both to the night visitorand to a butterfly. That same semantic
linkage is found between other phonological variants of hamalau, that is, connections
between hamalau and insects, particularly shape-shifting insects, as has been pointed out
previously in this investigation. Thus, that the same word has both of these meanings
makes the case even stronger: that inguma belongs to the same lineage, the same word
field as the other variants, and, therefore, that it derives ultimately from hamalau.
Viewed from this perspective, the replicated version mahumahu gave rise to a
phonological variant in mahuma and then over time mahuma underwent further
reanalysis, producing inguma. As noted, the latter expression also refers to a butterfly,
the night visitor as well as to the incubus-succubus phenomenon. Obviously, if all one
had to work with was the final phonological shape of inguma it would not occur to a
linguist to trace that words etymology back to hamalau. Yet there is little doubt about
the phonological track followed by the expression inguma, as one earlier variant form
after another underwent phonological transformation, bringing about phonological and
semantic reduction.
When I speak of semantic reduction I am referring to the loss of the original
meaning of the term hamalau; the fact that it is a number: that it originally meant
fourteen. Indeed, it would appear that this meaning exists only at the head of the
semantic chain, i.e., occupying the top node of the etymological lineage leading to the
formation inguma, while the immediate ancestral forms of inguma, i.e., mamu, mahuma,
etc. would have already lost that basic numeric meaning, leaving a more restricted
semantic field in place here only the notions of the night visitor and insects were
operating. It is also quite possible that these processes of change were influenced by
dialectal variants repeatedly coming into contact with each other, a process that would
 137

have contributed to the loss of recognition of the underlying semantic contents of the
expressions.
Finally, inguma was used not just a common noun, but also as a proper name,
concretely, a form of address used when talking to the mysteriouos being itself. This fact
further supports an indigenous evolution of the term and its original derivation from
hamalau: it reinforces the assumption that inguma belongs to the same lineage. For
example, this obviously ritualized bedtime prayer addressed to Inguma is found in the
Labourdin dialect:
Inguma, enauk bildur, Jingoa ta Andre Maria artzen tiat lagun; zeruan izar, lurrean belar, kostan hare,
hek guziak kondatu arte ehadiela nereganat ager (Inguma, Im not afraid of you, I take refuge in God
and the Virgin Mary; stars in the sky, [blades of] grass on the ground, [grains of] sand on the beach,
until you have counted all of these, dont present yourself to me.) (Azkue 1969, Vol. 1, 443).

As Satrstegui points out, in some cases these prayers and folk sayings insert the term
inguma when addressing the being in question, while in other cases the same prayer or
folk saying employs the term marrau or mamua. Thus, we can see that these three terms
(marrau, mamua and inguma) are synonyms: phonological variants of each other. This
line of evidence would also suggest that two sets of phonological variants of the term
hamalau might have branched off from the original etymon of hamalau and then
distanced themselves from each other: one set situated in more eastern dialects and
another in more western ones.89
At the same time we can see that once Christianity arrived, people came up with
discursive ways to dissuade the frightening night visitor from paying them an unwanted
visit. Thus, these formulaic sayings and prayers represent another example of the kind of
hybridization that took place when the two belief systems came into direct contact with
each other. One only wonders what this night-time prayer would have sounded like
before the arrival of Christianity: were children instructed to talk to Hamalau before
going to sleep, in order to tell the creature to keep busy with other things, like counting
the stars, rather than paying them a visit? And, in the case of adults, were they, too,
accustomed to addressing this being each night before falling asleep? As Satrstegui has
observed, it is noteworthy that the prayers are not directed to God, Jesus Christ or the
Virgin Mary, seeking their intervention, but rather the discourse scenario has the
individual speaking directly to Hamalau, albeit under the variant names of Marrau,
Mamu, Mahumahu, Mahuma, Inguma, etc.

89
For a much more detailed ethnographic discussion of the western variants cf. Satrstegui (1981a; 1981b:
365-375)
 138

Also, according reports by Donostia based on the fieldwork he carried out in the same
region, his adult informants said that the creature was an animal: como una especie de
animal sedoso que oprime al durmiente [like a kind of silky animal that presses down on
the sleeper], while the general opinion of the informants was the el Ingume es una
especie de animal, suave, de mucho peso, que se desliza por el pecho apretndolos [the
Ingume is a kind of animal, smooth, very heavy, that slides onto their chest, gripping
them tightly] (cited in Satrstegui 1987: 22).
Another clue concerning the nature of the creature comes from the verbal syntax
encountered in the prayers and sayings. In Euskara there is a type of dialogic addressivity
associated with certain verb forms which requires the speaker to mark the gender of the
person being spoken to, i.e., the presence of the addressee is integrated into the structure
of the conjugated verb. Because of this fact, we can determine, based on the sampling of
prayers and sayings collected, that the informants addressed the creature using the male
gender marker, e.g., ez niok hire beldurrez; enuk hire beldur, etc. That said, it is also true
that the collection of prayers and sayings is not extensive. Hence, the examples of
dialogic addressivity which mark male gender might not be representative of the
discursive style of all speakers. For example, in discussions of the collection of prayers
and sayings, the gender of the informant is not indicated. Therefore, we do not know for
sure whether men and women always addressed the being if it were male. 90 Also, we
need to keep in mind the ambiguous, indeed, amorphous nature of the entity being
addressed and the fact that it was often viewed as an animal.
In some cases the prayers addressed to the creature, seek protection for the daytime
hours as well as at night, repeatedly indicating that the individual is not afraid of the
fearsome being at anytime:

90
In passing I should mention that there is evidence for a female-oriented interpretation of the main
character, a topic that is, however, outside the scope of this study. Briefly stated, this feminine orientation
may be reflected in the figures of the pre-Christian Basque goddess Mari and her animal helpers, the Italian
Befana and most particularly the Germanic Percht(a)/Bercht(a). In the case of the latter figure we should
keep in mind that the etymology of the term (and its phonological variants such as precht and brecht) takes
us back to the etymon of Germanic words for bear, namely, *bher- bright, brown which also shows up
in the name Hans Rupert/Ruprecht: Das Wort percht entspricht althochdeutsch peraht/beraht und bedeutet
strahlend, glnzend, und es ist in dieser Bedeutung in Eigennamen wie Berchthold, Albrecht,
Rupprecht/Rupert bis heute erhalten. [] Mit der Etymologie des Namens Bercht(a)/Percht(a) hat man
sich seit dem frhen 18.Jahrhundert beschftigt: Er wurde einerseits mit dem bereits erwhnten
althochdeutschen Wort peraht/beraht in Verbindung gebracht; demgem wrde er also entweder die
Leuchtende, Strahlende meinenoder aber die 'Frau der Perchtnacht' [The word percht comes from Old
High German peraht/beraht and means bright, shiny, and it survives in this meaning in names such as
Berchthold, Albrecht, Rupprecht/Rupert. [] The etymology of the name Bercht(a)/Percht(a, has been
studied since the early18th century: It [the name] was being related, on the one hand, to the Old High
German word peraht/beraht already mentioned; accordingly, it would mean either the luminous, bright or
the 'Woman of the Perchtnacht] (Mller and Mller 1999: 450).
 139

Mahuma, gaur enuk hire beldur [Mahuma, today I do not fear you]
Loan ez ihartzarrian. [neither sleeping nor awake.]
Jinkua diau aita, [God is our father,]
Anderedena Maria ama, [Virgin Mary [our] mother,]
Jandonahani gazaita, [[Saint John [our] godfather,]
Jandone Petri kusi, [Saint Peter [our] cousin,]
Horiek denak ditiau askazi, [they all are our relatives,]
Loiten ahal diau ausarki. [we can sleep abundantly.] (Satrstegui 1987: 17)
And this one which again emphasizes that creatures presence was sensed in some
fashion throughout the day and night.

Mahuma, enuk hire beldur, [Mahuma, Im not fear you,]

Etzaten nuk Jinkuaikin [with God I go to sleep]
Jiekitzen Andredena Mariaikin [with the Virgin Mary I awake]
Aingeru ona sabetsian [with the good Angel at my side]
Jesus ene bihotzian [Jesus in my heart]
janian, edanian, loan, ametsian. [when eating, drinking, sleeping and dreaming.] (Satrstegui 1987: 17)

Then in reference to the daytime presence of the creature, writing in 1987, Satrstegui
(1987: 20) recounts what was told to him by a woman from the district of Gainekoleta, a
zone in which rock-slides were relatively common because of the mountain nearby. The
woman said that when a rock-slide happened her mother would comment to her: Its
Mahuma. Similarly, when the informants spoke to Satrstegui about their experiences
with the night visitor they did not doubt the reality of the creatures existence: that it
had actually come to see them. Then there is the folk belief that any hematomathe
blue-black mark left on the skin that is associated with a bruisewas caused by Mahuma
having pinched the person, i.e., Mahumaren zimikoa (Satrstegui 1987: 21). Granted,
today that concept is understood as nothing more than a mere folk saying.
In sum, the replicated version mahumahu gave rise to a phonological variant in
mahuma and then over time mahuma was reanalyzed, producing inguma. The latter
expression found in Basque today refers to a butterfly, the night visitor and is used as
well as to refer to the incubus-succubus phenomenon. The latter association suggests the
possibility that somewhere along the way the Catholic Church and/or Inquisitional
authorities played a role in popularizing the variant of inguma. And as I have mentioned,
quite obviously, if all one had to work with was the final phonological shape of inguma,
it would not necessarily occur to a historical linguist that the words etymology should be
traced back to hamalau. Yet the path taken by the expression inguma is a relatively
straight forward one, as one variant form after another underwent phonological
transformation and was rehaped, each building on the shape of the previous form, with
resulting phonological and semantic reduction being helped along the way by exchanges
and criss-crossing of dialectal variants over a period of hundreds if not several thousand
years.
 140

6.0 Conclusions
At the beginning of this study I suggested that the linguistic and cultural artifacts under
analysis could provide support for the PCRT approach to prehistory, that is, an approach
that arguesprimarily on the basis of genetic and archaeological evidencethat at the
end of the last Ice Age there were a series of migrations out of the Pyrenean-Cantabrian
refugium. Eventually, these population expansions would take the inhabitants of this zone
and their descendants northward and eastward into other parts of Europe. Until now this
version of events has been grounded in the findings of molecular genetics, archaeology,
evolutionary and population biology and related fields of inquiry. As such, even though
the evidence collected to date is compelling, in order to be totally convincing, the PCRT
narrative is still in need of additional proofs. Moreover, until now the fields of historical
linguistics and ethnography have not been forthcoming in terms of supplying data sets
that could be marshaled convincingly in support of this narrative of European population
dispersals.
In the course of this study I have proposed that the ursine cosmology is best
understood as a symbolic order that reflects the world view of hunter-gatherers, although
we cannot predict precisely what time-depth should be assigned to the individual
linguistic and cultural artifacts under analysis. Certainly some features associated with
them are quite modern, while others may be significantly older. The belief that humans
descended from bears, however, would logically antedate the Neolithic world view, the
latter being characterized generally by its emphasis on domestication and the control of
nature rather than celebrating a spiritual reciprocity between human animals and non-
human animals (Bird-David 1999; Ingold 1995).
Hunter-gatherers do not, as Westerners are inclined to do, draw a Rubicon separating human beings
from all non-human agencies, ascribing personhood exclusively to the former whilst relegating the
latter to an inclusive category of things. For them there are not two worlds, or persons (society) and
things (nature), but just one worldone environmentsaturated with personal powers and embracing
[] human beings, the animals and plants on which they depend, and the landscape in which they live
and move. (Ingold 1992: 42)

With respect to the antiquity of the linguistic artifacts, during the course of this
investigation I have kept in mind the commentary of Gamble et al. (2005: 209), namely,
their argument that there could be a linguistic component to the PCRT narrative. If
Western Europe was, to a large extent, repopulated from the Pyrenean-Cantabrian
refugium, we could hypothesize that people in this source region spoke languages related
to Basque. Consequently, the obvious conclusion would seem to be that the expanding
 141

human groups would have been speaking languages related to ancestral forms of modern
day Basque.
Earlier when discussing the methodology that would be applied in this study, I posed
three questions. First, how do we go about determining the original location of the
linguistic and cultural artifacts in question? At this stage we can reply that by tracing the
linguistic and cultural artifacts associated with Hamalau we have been able to determine
that it is in the Pyrenean-Cantabrian zone where the clearest understandings of the words
meaning(s) are found. Then there was the question concerning the evidence we have, if
any, that would allow us to chart the pathways taken by these cultural artifacts as they
moved out of the initial western refugium. Again, although in the course of this
investigation only a small sampling of the phonological variants of hamalau has been
treated, they have allowed us to follow a trail laid down by a set of linguistic and cultural
artifacts that appear to derive ultimately from the same ursine cosmology. In other words,
the linguistic artifacts dove-tail with the cultural data.
Finally, the third question I asked at the beginning of this study is the following: does
the diffusion of the linguistic and cultural artifacts related to the ursine cosmology allow
us to map the development of the cultural complex over time? At this juncture it would
seem that, at a minimum, they permit us to formulate a series of hypotheses concerning
the way that the various components belonging to the ursine cultural complex fit together
as well as how they evolved along parallel paths. Likewise, the application of a broad
cross-linguistic and cross-cultural approach to the data provided a basis for reconstructing
a set of cultural conceptualizations pertaining to much earlier stages of the belief system,
albeit in a highly tentative fashion.
In short, tracing these artifacts across space and time allowed us to explore the
linguistic and cognitive pathways forged by them and to tease out features of the
underlying interpretive framework, again, in a provisional fashion. In other words, the
methodology employed has brought into view a relatively cohesive cluster of elements.
Undersood as a cultural complex that evolved over time, the components making up the
complex can be viewed as constituting a single lineage and hence could serve to
illuminate the much earlier symbolic regime that was once present in the Pyrenean-
Cantabrian refugium, as well as in adjoining zones such as Aragon and Catalunya, and
beyond. In conclusion, the socio-cultural entrenchment of the artifacts analyzed appears
to reinforce the plausibility of the PCRT hypothesis.

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Chapter 4. Frank, Roslyn M. (in press) An examination of three ritual healers: The Basque salutariyua, the
French marcou and the Italian maramao. Insula: Quaderno di Cultura Sarda.

An examination of three ritual healers:

The Basque salutariyua, the French marcou and the Italian maramao

Roslyn M. Frank
University of Iowa
Email: roz-frank@uiowa.edu

If there are seven boys or seven girls in one family, then one of them will be a night-
mare, but will know nothing about it. (Kuhn and Schwartz 1848: 16)
In Cornwall, the peasants and the miners entertain this notion; they believe that a
seventh son can cure the king's evil by the touch. (Chambers 1869)

[] the word does not forget where it has been and can never wholly free itself from
the dominion of the contexts of which it has been part. (Bakhtin 1973: 167)

1.0 Introduction

Throughout all of Europe we find examples of folk-belief assigning special qualities to

the seventh-born son or daughter of a family. At times these attributes were positive, at
times negative. However, they always had a magical aura about them (Bloch [1924]
1983).91 For the most part, these beliefs have been written off as superstitious residue
from times past and as a result little attention has been paid to documenting the concrete
social practices associated with them. An exception to this tendency is the work of Marc
Bloch, who in 1924, called attention to the supernatural powers attributed to the seventh
son and at times, to the seventh daughter, born after an uninterrupted series of the same
sex, remarking that seventh-born children were credited with a particular supernatural
power (Bloch [1924] 1983: 293, 296).
Specifically, Bloch noted that from at least the 16th century onwards, children born
into a seventh position in their family supposedly had the power to heal by touch. Such
extraordinary people, often deemed sorcerers, even devils, were also referred to by a
variety of expressions such as mahr (German) or murawa (Polish) and consequently they
had the ambivalent privilege of tapping into powers that were inaccessible to normal

91
Writing in 1924, Bloch observed that La croyance sous cette forme a t et est sans doute encore trs
largement rpandue dans lEurope occidentale et centrale: on la signale en Allemagne, en Biscaye, en
Catalogne, dans presque toute la France, dans les Pays-Bas, en Angleterre, en Escosse, en Irlande []
(Bloch [1924] 1983: 294-295).
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humans. Specifically, they were viewed as having healing and divinatory powers, which
could entail shape-shifting (Vaz da Silva 2003). That is, those individuals were endowed
with the ability to take the form of an animal. From the point of view of modern Western
thought this belief causes the dividing line between humans and animals to become
blurred. Nonetheless, that blurring or fusion of two natures would be in accordance with
the cosmology of native peoples in other parts of the world, especially contemporary
hunter-gatherers, where such animistic beliefs also prevail (Bird-David 1999; Brightman
2002; Ingold 2000; Willerslev 2007).
It is quite clear that the qualities assigned to the seventh-son or daughter harken back
to an earlier animistic mindset, notions of nonhuman personhood and social practices that
in turn connect back to shamanic modes of healing.92 At the same time, as noted in the
earlier chapters of this study, the fused nature of the Bear Son, the half-human, half-bear
being known as Hamalau Fourteen in Basque,93 reflects a similar blurring of the
Western human-animal divide and related cultural conceptualizations. And as Bertolotti
has demonstrated in his detailed and extraordinarily well researched study Carnevale di
Massa 1950 (1992), European versions of the Bear Son folktales, e.g., Giovanni lOrso,
may well reproduce much earlier beliefs, more in consonance with the cosmovision of
hunter-gatherers who inhabited these zones in times past.
More concretely, the fact that the figure of Hamalau is grounded in the belief that
humans descended from bears allows us to consider the significance and symbolism of
this characters own genesis: he is born of a human female, but his father is a bear. In this
sense, he is a double-natured intermediary occupying the ontological ground between
humans and bears. Speaking of the set of pan-European narratives categorized under the
rubric of Bear Son tales, Bertolotti offers this pertinent reflection:
Lorso pu infine nascere dallunione di un uomo o di una donna con una divinit, come racconta
un mito Ainu, oppure con uno spirito della foresta, secondo varianti registrate presso Samoiedi,
Voguli e Ostiachi. Attraverso la forma immediata della metamorfosi o quella mediata del
matrimonio, ci che si viene a stabilire in ogni caso un legame di parentela tra lorso e luomo.
Grazie a questo legame, un ponte gettato dal mondo degli uomini verso laltro mondo, ove si
trovano le fonti della prosperit. Ora gli uomini dispongono di un alleato che pu penetrare
nellaltro mondo e attingere a quelle fonti per renderle loro disponibili. (Bertolotti 1992: 186)94

92
For a positive evaluation and hence more nuanced contemporary discussions of animism, ones that do
not suffer from the conceptual defects imposed by earlier anthropological biases, cf. Howell (1996).
93
The expression hamalau is a compound, composed of two elements: hamar ten and lau four.
94
The bear may ultimately be born from the union of a man or a woman with a deity, as is told in an Ainu
myth, or with a forest spirit, in variations recorded among Samoyeds, Voguli and Ostiachi. Through the
immediate form of metamorphosis, or mediated by the wedding, what comes to be established is, in any
case, a bond of kinship between bears and humans. Through this link, a bridge is established connecting the
 153

I should mention that when Bertolotti (1992: 174-200) describes the house visits and
related performance art found across Europe in which a bear and its retinue of actors take
part and whose purpose is to bring good fortune, health and well-being to those who are
on the receiving end, the Italian researcher does not refer to them generically utilizing the
term Good-Luck Visits as I have done. However, both of us are talking about the same
phenomenon. At the same time, it should be emphasized that the Italian ethnographer
asserts that in European performance art lUomo selvatico is a stand-in or counterpart for
the bear and is linked to the half-human, half-bear character of the folktales. For instance,
Bertolotti writes: Nel Vallese e a Tesero (Trento) lUomo selvatico cui si dava la caccia
per carnevale era vestito di pelli di capra, anzich di foglie. In Asia egli era detto orso. A
Eger, in Boemia, la caccia allUomo selvatico era chiamata luccisione dellorso.
Esistono inoltre somiglianze molto forti tra le cerimonie con lUomo selvatico che sono
state appena descritte e le rappresentazioni della caccia allorso [...] (Bertolotti 1992:
171).
Bertolotti finds additional evidence for his hypothesis in Pyrenean folk beliefs and
related performance art, the well-known Ftes de lOurs, as well as the wide-spread
practice of Good-Luck Visits where an actor dressed as a bear dances, dies and is
resurrected by another actor. Special emphasis is also placed on the role of sUrzu in
Sardinian performances, past and present. While Bertolotti draws striking analogies to
similar ursine linked ritual practices attested among hunters and gatherers of other parts
of the world, in doing so he is unaware of the Pyrenean belief, retained by the Basques
into the 20th century, that humans descended from bears. However, this ursine genealogy
only serves to strengthen the hypothesis put forward by the Italian ethnographer.
In the previous three chapters of this investigation various aspects of this cultural
complex were explored with special emphasis being placed on what I argue are regional
phonological variants of the term Hamalau. In the present chapter, the analysis of
semantic data will play a major role in establishing linkages between regional
manifestations of a group of individuals endowed with supernatural healing powers and
the fearful ability to shape-shift (Bloch 1983, 293-4). Furthermore, we shall discover the
multiplicity of ways in which the avatars of the shaman-healer, known in Basque as
Hamalau, manifest themselves in European folk belief. At the same time we shall see
how, until only a few centuries ago, seventh-sons and daughters continued to perform
their duties under the protection of ecclesiastical authorities, while at the same time their
pagan counterpart survived as the central character in European ursine-informed

world of men to the other world, where the sources of prosperity are. Now people have an ally that can
penetrate into the other world and tap into those sources to make them available (Bertolotti, 1992: 186).
 154

performance art, where the actors miraculous shamanic healing abilities continued to
be put on display before the public.
In the current study three examples of healers with supernatural powers will be
analyzed. The first section will concentrate on documenting the figure of the Basque
salutariyua as well as the Catalan and Valencian counterparts, the saludadors. The
second section is dedicated to another type of seventh-born healers, the French marcous,
including their counterparts across the channel in Great Britain. Then our attention will
turn to documenting the role of another representative shaman-healer, a character found
in European performance art. Our approach will concentrate specifically on the scene
from the Good-Luck Visits where an actor intervenes to bring the bear (or its structural
homologue) back to life. At that juncture, we will be ready to examine the enigmatic
etymology of maramao by bringing together linguistic and ethnographic evidence in
support of the hypothesis that this figure represents a key element in gaining a better
understanding of the earlier and much more archaic cosmology that held humans
descended from bears. Finally, when reading the present study, the reader should keep in
mind that it represents the fourth part of a series of articles which have been dedicated to
the exploration of pan-European phenomena associated with Good-Luck Visits.
Consequently the current discussion builds on the information presented and analyzed in
the previous chapters of the investigation.

2.0 Seventh-sons and daughters among the Basques: the salutariyua healer

Among the Basques the belief in the special status of the seventh-son or seventh-daughter
born to a family was commonplace among rural populations into the 18th century, if not
even later (Lpez de Guereu 1966). Moreover, in contrast to some other zones of
Europe, the supernatural endowments assigned to these individuals translated into them
actually being required to exercise a specific profession. The name of this individual was
saludador, healer, which is the term used in Spanish to describe the Basque health
practitioners. According to modern texts, the term that continued to be employed in
Basque was salutariyua, clearly cognate with the Spanish expression (Atao 1979). Since
the entries in municipal records which speak in detail about this profession were written
in Spanish, the exact terminology used by Basque speakers to refer to these popular
healers cannot be determined.
With respect to the special attributes assigned to those exercising this birth-right
profession, we find that the special gift of curing (or preventing) rabies in animals and
 155

people was the exclusive duty of the seventh-son born to a family. Yet this profession
was not the exclusive domain of seventh-born males. Rather the municipal records often
refer to the healer using the Spanish term saludadora, the female form of saludador. So it
is clear that both seventh-sons and seventh-daughters were included in this category of
healers. The lack of specific gender assignment (in favor of males or females) for this
role is confirmed explicitly in other cases where the healer is said to have been born with
other special attributes.95 For instance, according to a source cited by Lpez de Guereu
(1966: 164): Saludadores pueden serlo los que nacen a las doce de la noche de Navidad
que por ello tienen una cruz impresa debajo de la lengua y esta gracia particular es comn
en ambos sexos.96
The earliest written record identified for this practice dates from 1463 while similar
records have been found extending through the 18th century when, at least officially, the
obligatory payments that were made to the saludador(a) were no longer recorded in the
municipal account books, at least not in those that have been examined to this point. As a
caveat, I would remind the reader that until now the only published study dedicated to
these seventh-born healers is that of Lpez de Guereu (1966).97 In other words, to date
there has been no systematic effort to investigate evidence for the presence of this
particular social-medical phenomenon in the municipal records and archives of the
Basque Country.
Yet the disappearance of the entries from the official record does not necessarily imply
that the seventh-sons or daughters no longer performed their duties. Indeed, other
documents from the end of the 18th century suggest that such figures may still have been
quite active. Moreover, old belief systems tend to retain their force long after the actual
practices originally informing them have fallen into disuse. At the same time it is possible
that certain responsibilities assigned earlier to the seventh-born healers were reallocated
to others. For example, some of the functions and responsibilities were probably taken
over by the Christian priest, his female assistant called a serora and/or her helpers,98

95
I would note that the Basque language has no grammatical gender or other indications of natural
gender, that is, endings that in other languages serve to distinguish females from males.
96
[Healers can be those who are born at midnight on Christmas Eve and who for that reason have [the sign
of] a cross imprinted under their tongues, and this grace is common in both sexes.]
97
Guereus study was limited to the records of the Basque province of Araba. That similar records would
be found in the municipal archives of the other six Basque provinces seems highly likely, even though
detailed research has not been carried out in these zones.
98
In this respect of particular interest are the names given to a class of Basque women healers who
assisted the Basque serora and which give us another method for identifying socio-medical practices and
traditions linked to female folk healers. Specifically, the terms rendered in French as braguine, brayine and
braine in the archival records of the Cathedral of Bayonne derive from the Basque compound belhargin,
 156

while other functions were eventually reassigned to members of the emerging medical
professions.
In the case of the seventh-born healer, according to the archival records, the individual
along his/her horse and helper traveled about the local region, often being paid in wheat
collected by the members of the judicial district or municipality in question. At times the
records speaks of the saludador(a) being accompanied by a parent, e.g., by his father,
which would suggest that the healer was still quite young when he began his practice. In
one instance the child was only fourteen when we find him already engaged in his trade,
accompanied by his father. Although there is evidence among the Basques that the age at
which a youth entered into adulthood was fourteen, for example, when the persons
testimony was considered valid, there is not enough information to determine the age at
which the healer practitioners were expected to begin their duties. Other entries speak of
payments for the female saludadora, her husband and helper as well as for their horses.
However, there is no information concerning how these individuals were trained to
perform their duties, e.g., how they acquired their knowledge of the spells, as well as
medicinal plants and herbs which they must have utilized. How this knowledge was
transmitted from one generation to the next has not been documented.
The archives contain frequent references to the obligations that fell to such an
individual. The duties of the seventh-son or daughter included conducting ritual healings
of people, cattle, and crops. Although the precise formulas used in such healing rituals
are not recorded, it is clear that the services of this person were called upon when there
was danger of an outbreak of rabies. The healer's task appears to have been preventative,
at least in part, and in that sense, not far different from his Christian counterparts who in
other places (and times) performed public ceremonies intended to protect the crops from
insects and other plagues, as well as to insure that domestic animals were safe from harm
and remained healthy.99 Christian priests were also in charge of storm conjuration and
special locations were set aside for the performance of these duties, i.e., warding off
hailstorms, sites that suggest the substantial continuity between pre-Christian and
Christian practices (Frank 1977, 2001a, b).

herb-worker (belhar herb and (e)gin worker). Another popular variant of this Basque expression is
belhargile, from belhar herb and (e)gile worker. The latter expression has, on occasion, acquired the
referential meaning of witch. For a detailed account of this etymology and its socio-cultural entailments,
as well as its connections to the Beguines and their movement in Europe, cf. Frank (2001a; 2001b; in
prep.).
99
For example, as Zamora Zamora (1997) has noted, in Murcia, saludadores were contracted by the
municipalities to get rid of a plague of locusts.
 157

From an analysis of details found in the accounting entries we can conclude that in the
zone under study seventh-born traditional healers enjoyed at least the same level of social
acceptance and prestige as schoolteachers and priests; and that the local municipality
contracted formally for their services. More specifically, the social status of these healers
can be deduced by comparing the salary of one of them with that of a friar from the
nearby abbey of Pidola who was also hired by the same municipality to provide similar
services. Concretely, in the village of Atauri we find that the salary of the second
individual was only half of that of the traditional healer (Lpez de Guereu 1966: 167).100
A closer examination of the documents reveals that at the beginning of the 18th
century, the annual salary paid to the individual by a given municipality amounted to una
fanega de trigo, i.e., the amount of wheat needed to plant a fanega of land.101 When
calibrated in the coinage of the times, a fanega of wheat was equivalent to approximately
16 reales. This was the standard annual salary for the healer. It was based on a minimum
of two obligatory visits per year and required the individual to be on call throughout the
rest of the year; additional visits were paid for at the rate of 6 reales per visit, plus
remuneration for the expenses incurred, food and housing in the village, stabling the
livery along with compensation for the expenses of those who accompanied the healer,
his/her assistants and/or family members. In short, the annual salary with the obligatory
two visits included, was supplemented by fees the healer received for additional visits. In
the case of the latter, the costs of room and board for the healer, his/her helper and horses
were also covered.
Assuming that the services of the healer would have been required on numerous
occasions throughout the year, between the base salary and the compensation received for
additional unscheduled visits, say, two visits per month, the person easily could have
obtained the equivalent of 150 reales or more per year, for a total of only 26 trips to the
same village, including the two obligatory ones. This is the payment the healer would
have received from only one village, whereas there are indications that the person might
have been under contract to several municipalities at the same time. We can contrast this
level of remuneration with the annual salary of the local schoolteacher who carried out

100
The healer received one fanega of wheat while the friar got only half a fanega. The above description is
based on: Tenan asalariado un saludador, pero al mismo tiempo vena un fraile del vecino convento de
Pidrola, en Santa Cruz de Campezo, que bendeca el ganado, aunque el saludador tena ms importancia
para los vecinos de Atauri, ya que cobraba una fanega de trigo, mientras al religioso le daban tan solo
media fanega (Lpez de Guereu 1966: 167).
101
The dry measure as well as the size of the land planted varied significantly. For the region in question
the fanega dry measure probably was in the order of 55.5 liters (1.6 bushels) of wheat. Cf.
http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fanega.
 158

his duties without any additional perks for food or housing. Indeed, besides teaching the
village children, he was required to take charge of the town clock and function as bell-
ringer. For all this work, much of it full-time, he received 30 fanegas per year, the
equivalent of 500 reales.102
More concretely, the contractual duties of these seventh-sons and daughters obligated
them to come on a regular schedule, twice a year, on the first of May and on Saint
Michaels day (Michaelmas, September 29th). In addition, the agreements imply that the
healer was contractually on call to the municipality in question throughout the entire
year and was required, contractually, to come when notified. As for the two obligatory
visits we notice that one of them coincides with the first of May which might be
explained in part by the fact that it was on the first of May when the shepherds began
taking their flocks up to the high pastures and the animals needed to be blessed before
they left. As for St. Michaels day being the date assigned for the second obligatory visit,
that custom probably was linked, at least in some fashion, to the fact that in the Basque
region, as in many other Catholic countries of Europe, St. Michaels Day was one of the
quarter days when rents and bills would come due each year. Finally, when viewed
objectively, the two annual visits conducted by the healers are quite reminiscent of
similar ceremonies carried out by priests and other members of the Church hierarchy to
insure the well-being of their parishioners as well as guarantee the health of the animals
and crops under their jurisdiction and subject, therefore, to their blessing. In this
respect, the ritual activities carried out by the two classes of individuals must have
overlapped to a significant degree.
In conclusion, the figure of the seventh-son and daughter healers casts a long shadow
where belief in the special powers conferred by the concept seven are clearly in
evidence. Since the social practices associated with this belief continued into modern
times we might assume that they were viewed with approval by the communities in
question: that the practitioners were not marginalized or otherwise stigmatized by the
members of the local populace. Rather they were recognized as important and productive
102
Haremos resaltar los emolumentos asignados al saludador, treinta rs. por un par de visitas, ms gastos
pagados en el desempeo de su misin, no slo personales si que tambin de criado y caballeras,
comparndolos con los atribuidos al maestro de escuela, que en este mismo ao de 1711 cobraba treinta
fanegas de trigo anuales (poco ms de quinientos reales a los precios de aquellos tiempos) sin ninguna
gratificacin extraordinaria, aunque s con la exigencia suplementaria de tener que cuidar del reloj y ejercer
de campanero. [We will point out the fee schedule contracted with the healer, thirty reales for a pair of
visits, plus payment for the expenses associated with carrying out his/her duties, not only personal
expenses, but also those of his/her servant and livery, compared to the salary paid to the [local] school
teacher, who in that same year of 1711 earned thirty fanegas of wheat annually (slightly more than five
hundred reales in those times) without any extra remuneration, although, yes, with the supplemental duty
of having to take care of the clock and function as bell-ringer.] (Lpez de Guereu 1966: 169).
 159

members of society, providing important services. Indeed, the persistence of these

practices might be explained by the continuing strength of much earlier cultural
conceptualizations associated with the number seven. Still the exact nature of the
sociocultural matrix in which this belief was once embedded is unclear. Should we
assume that Hamalau Fourteen was part of the same network? Certainly, the
shamanically-coded aspects of the plot structure of the Bear Son tales have been noted by
other researchers (Lajoux 1996; Panzer 1910; Sarmela 2006; Stitt 1995).

2.1 The saludadors of Catalunya and Valencia

In Catalunya evidence for seventh-son and daughters functioning as saludadors is also

abundant. Indeed, descriptions of them are quite similar to the ones we find in the Basque
Country. For instance, in Catalunya they were regularly hired in an official capacity by
local authorities. Writing in 1909, De Copons, citing F. Maspons, states that saludadors
son los que han nascut en la nit de Nadal, losquals tenen una creu en la llengua y tenen
la facultat de curar la rabia. He goes on to state that they are called Sets and that their
healing powers derive from them being seventh-sons: Le septime enfant d'une famille
qui n'a eu que des garcons jouit aussi de ce don : on l'appelle Set (De Copons 1909:
140). As Bloch ([1924] 1983: 303-304) points out, drawing on the earlier writings of
Sirven dating from 1864, the speciality of the Catalan Sets, in addition to curing rabies,
was in their ability to prevent animals and humans, in advance, from getting the disease.
In her investigation of extra-academic medical practitioners in Valencia, Lpez
Terrada brings forward the following fact about the role of saludadors in this zone of the
Iberian Peninsula, namely, that the healers had been relatively successful in distancing
themselves and their activities from accusations of witchcraft and black magic. This fact
also allows us to see that over time the practitioners themselves along with those who
sought their services had been able to negotiate a middle ground where they were
relatively safe from the Inquisitorial arm of the Catholic Church.
The saludadors were considered charismatic and hence quite different from
curanderos. They were individuals who possessed a supposedly superhuman ability to
cure certain illnesses, principally rabies (rabia). This power did not result from a pact
with the devil, but was a sign of divine grace. Despite being faith healers, they were not
bothered by the authorities in the least; neither did they encroach upon the professional
terrain of academically trained practitioners, nor were their practices considered
heretical (Lpez Terrada 2009). Another factor contributing to their acceptance by the
 160

Church has to do with the way that at some time in the past they had acquired the
protection of a particular Christian saint, namely, Saint Quitrie, a legendary 5th century
virgin martyr whose origins might well be more pagan than Christian and who, not
surprisingly, was known for her efficacy in curing rabies.
Although the popular healers were renowned for their ability to deal with a specific
disease, it appears that they also practiced a kind of preventative medicine that involved
blessing humans, animals and crops, the latter against predation by insects. Moreover, in
line with the conceptual structures undergirding the cult of saints, the nature of the gift
which such healers supposedly possessed was somewhat ambiguous. Having a patron
saint, allowed the individual healer to draw upon the excess grace attributed to the
latter. Thus, the natural-born gift of the saludadors was Christianized. On the other
hand, the populace continued to believe in the efficacy of the special gift of the
practitioner. This created a situation where both parties benefitted, those in charge of the
religious sites dedicated to the saint in question and the seventh-born healers themselves.
As the fame of individual healers increased, so did the belief in the curative powers of
their patron saint and vice-versa. Miraculous cures attributed to the particular saint by
those going on pilgrimages to her sanctuary (or by those in charge of the site) would feed
quite naturally into the same belief system, reinforcing, in turn, the popularity of the
healers operating under the auspices of the same saint. Consequently, the cures,
incantations and other healing rituals performed by the saludadors were sanctioned by
the excess grace of this saint, and as we shall see, a similar mechanism for gaining
approval operated in the case of the seventh-son and daughter healers of France.
Even though Lpez Terrada asserts that saludadors were not persecuted and enjoyed
the approval of the Church, and, indeed, this might well have been the case in certain
locations and time periods, there are indications that the relationship between the Holy
Office and the popular practitioners was not always so amicable. For example, by the
early 16th century we encounter a treatise written by Pedro Ciruelo called Reprovacin
de las supersticiones y hechiceras in which he denounced superstitious practices. In this
work Ciruelo casts saludadores in a negative light, defining them as follows: [] dizen
que sanan con su saliva de la boca y con su aliento, diziendo ciertas palabras: y vemos
que mucha gente se va tras ellos a se saludar El hecho de los saludadores
principalmente se emplea en querer sanar, o preservar a los hombres, y bestias, y ganados
del mal de la ravia.103

103
[it is said that they heal with the saliva from their mouths or with their breath, saying certain words:
and we see that many people seek them out for healing [] The saludadores principal task is to heal or
 161

Valencian folk healers were able to portray themselves in a positive light to

ecclesiastical and civil authorities as having on the one hand grace, a gift from God,
and on the other, a charismatic ability to cure, a power he is able to transmit to any
substance he wishes, in this case, oil and water (Lpez Terrada 2009). This, however,
did not mean that in the Iberian Peninsula they did not have not run-ins with the Holy
Office, particularly as the activities of these popular healers started to compete with those
of the emerging class of medical practitioners, who on the one hand consisted of
physicians and surgeons directly affiliated with the Inquisition and on the other there
were non-affiliated members of that profession whose clientele occasionally overlapped
with that of the saludadors (Walker 2004).
In contrast to what appears to have been the case in the Basque Country, in 17th-
century Valencia saludadors exercised their profession not only with the approval of the
local authorities, but also the enthusiastic support of higher echelons of the Church
hierarchy:
Saludadores were highly esteemed and were contracted by local governments large and small, in
Valencia and in the other realms of the peninsula. Enguera, a small community in the interior of
the kingdom of Valencia, had its own saludador to whom the municipality paid four pounds
yearly in exchange for his curing any person or animal bitten by a rabid dog. This position was
occupied in 1631 by a woman named Josefa Medina, who had previously been given a licence
confirming her powers by the Archbishop of Valencia. In the city of Valencia, the situation was
somewhat different. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries there was an examiner of
charismatic healers (examinador de saludadores), that is, a public functionary hired by the
government after he had passed an examination, whose job it was to determine the ability of those
who desired to work as saludadores within the city.104

Investigations of saludadores in other parts of the Iberian Peninsula suggests that by

the late 17th and 18th centuries they were coming under increasing attack from
ecclesiastical authorities and being subjected more frequently to ridicule by laymen. In
short, even though they continued to enjoy significant acceptance among the popular
classes, pressures were being brought to bear on these charismatic healers. Their actions
and clients increasingly became subject to criticism, although as a whole the services of
healers continued to constitute an alternative to the medicine practiced by physicians and

preserve people, animals, and livestock from rabies.] Cf. Ciruelo (1538) cited in Campagne (2000: 433)
and also Lpez Terrada (2009).
104
According to Lpez Terrada (2009), the examinations were conducted in the same way that examiners
of physicians and surgeons did: they were open to all applicants and were held in the presence of the
municipal authorities. The test consisted of curing rabid dogs using only the applicants own saliva. In
addition, those being examined would have to extinguish a red-hot bar of metal and a piece of glowing
silver by placing their tongues upon them. If they were able to pass these tests, and after taking an oath, the
city granted them a legal licence to practise. And, indeed, Lpez Terrada cites examples where the
saludador passed the exam and obtained the corresponding license to practice.
 162

surgeons, certainly in part because people of low income were unable to pay the
relatively high fees charged by physicians and surgeons (Lpez Terrada 2009; Walker
2004).

3.0 The seventh-born in the rest of Europe

Our examination of the Basque, Catalan and Valencian data has shown that the belief in
the supernatural attributes of seventh-born sons and daughters was not merely a
superstition, but rather translated into a set of concrete socially-sanctioned healing
practices which by the 19th century in other more urbanized parts of Europe would have
been viewed as quackery at best and in other circles as witchcraft. In this respect the
data suggests that we could be looking at a network of cultural practices that existed in
other parts of Europe outside the Iberian Peninsula. In other words, what were collected
and reported as merely superstitions in the 19th and 20th centuries were grounded in
actual social practice, folk memories of the earlier veneration of the seven-born of a
family who then, in turn, regularly went about the community carrying out ritual
healings.
Naturally the powers attributed to such a person would have set the individual apart
from the rest and because of the persons alleged supernatural abilities, that person could
have been feared. As is well known, in other parts of Europe being a seventh-born son or
daughter could be dangerous for it could confer unwelcome shape-shifting powers on the
individual as well as the ability to visit others in their sleep. For example, in Germany,
19th century folklorists record the belief that [i]f there are seven boys or seven girls in
one family, then one of them will be a night-mare, but will know nothing about it (Kuhn
and Schwartz [1848] 1972: 418-420). While we see that the person is assigned special
powers, these are represented as harmful and therefore viewed in a negative light.
Specifically, such a person was destined to be a mare, a murawa, etc., that is, a night-
mare, a topic discussed at length in the previous chapters of this study (Frank 2008a, c,
2009a). Such an individual, according to popular belief, was double-skinned, capable of
appearing to be asleep, yet at the same time going out and about, and when doing so,
often taking the shape of some other creature.105 In this fashion the night-mare could
appear to others who were sleeping, in the form of a menacing night-visitor.

105
This wide-spread belief system resonates strongly with the stories of the so-called benandanti, recounted
by Carl Ginzburg (1966).
 163

Stated differently, folk belief, particularly among German and Polish-speaking

populations, reveals that, in addition to having supernatural powers of healing, seventh-
born sons and daughters were attributed another remarkable ability: they were viewed as
shape-shifters and had the ability to appear, often in a sinister fashion, to others while the
latter were sleeping. More concretely, the second element of the English expression
night-mare, i.e., -mare, is the English equivalent of the German word mahr found in
nacht-mahr and meaning goblin, demon, spirit (Grimm and Grimm 1854: 1166).106 The
same semantic element is found in the French compound cauchemar. The German
reflexes, as well as other etymologically linked terms encountered in Slavic languages,
such as the Wendish expression Murraue (Ashliman 1998-2005; Kuhn and Schwartz
1848: 418-420), all refer to this supernatural being: a disturbing night visitor, often
described as an ominous presence or intruder (Cheyne 2001, 2003; Cheyne, Newby-
Clark and Rueffer 1999; Hufford 2005). According to Thorpe: Under all these
denominations is designated that spectral being which places itself on the breast of the
sleeping, depriving them of the powers of motion and utterance (Thorpe 1851-52, Vol.
3: 154).
Furthermore, attributing to seventh-born children not only shape-shifting powers but
specifically those of the night-mare brings us back to Basque variants, such as mamu,
mahuma and marrau, commonly used to refer to this night-visitor and which are,
simultaneously, phonological variants of hamalau, fourteen, and also the Basque name
of the half-bear half-human, shaman-like healer, as well as a being who until quite
recently was said to appear to people when they were asleep. The attested dialectal
variants of the word hamalau appear to include mamalo, mamarrao, mamarro,
mamarrua, marrau, mamu, mahumahu and mahuma among others (Azkue 1969 [1905-
1906]: II, 11-12, 19; Michelena 1987: XII, 52, 57-60). The fearsome night visitor was
also the creature called upon by parents to make their children behave. In the case of
Sardu, this particular being is known as marragau, marragotti and mammoti.107
Although I am not aware of Sardinian folk beliefs alleging that seventh-born children
were destined to become a night-mare, a closer examination of the lexical field in
Sardu demonstrates that the stem of the terms has three variants. The roots appear in the
shape of mamu-, momo-/mommo-, momma- and marra-.108 In the case of the root form
106
Dialectal variants also include mare (Germany), mahrt (Pommerania) and mahrte (North Germany).
107
For a more detailed account of this aspect of the data, cf. Frank (2008a: 106-118).
108
I would note that it was Graziano Fois (2002b) who first brought to my attention the similarities between
the Sardinian and Basque data sets, particularly items having the root of mamu- and consequently the
relationship between the mamuttones / mamutzones and their Basque counterparts (cf. Frank 2008c).
 164

mamu-, we find mamuntomo spauracchio; mamuntone fantoccio; mamuttinu:

strepito; mamudinu Belzeb, demonio, diavolo, strepito, zurlo mamuttone
spauracchio, spaventapasseri; mamuttones maschere carnevalesche con campanacci;
mamutzone spauracchio as well as mamus esseri fantastici che abitanoi nelle caverne.
In the instance of the root stem of momo-/mommo-/momma-, we find: momotti babau,
befana, spauracchio; mommoi babau, befana, fantasma, licantropo, orco, pidocchio,
spauracchio, spettro; mommai befana; and from the stem marra- there is: marragau
orco, gruccione, marrangoi babau, mostro, spaurrachio; and marragotti befana,
biliorsa, bilioso, fantasma, mangiabambini, mannaro, orco, ragno, spauracchio, spettro
(Fois 2002b; Rubattu 2006). In these examples we find different personifications of the
figure of the night-visitor, as a spettro alongside a shape-shifted human, the mannaro.
Also found among the variants of this cross-linguistic morpho-semantic field, are terms
such as mamau / babau and marmau / barbau (Sainan 1905: 70). These items appear to
be cognates, differentiated primarily by the exchange of the bilabials: m b, as
discussed earlier (cf. Frank 2009a: 122-124).
In summary, it appears that regional variants of the word hamalau may have given rise
to expressions used in various European languages to refer to seventh-sons and daughters
in their manifestation as shape-shifters. It therefore follows that the shamanic
characteristics attributed to the Bear Son the half-human, half-bear protagonist, his vision
quest and adventures that allow him to acquire his spirit animal helpers and later shape-
shift into them may have been transferred in some symbolic fashion to these seventh-born
healers (Frank 2008a, c, 2009a).
Despite this rather negative portrayal of seventh-sons and daughters, that is, equating
them with disturbing otherworldly shape-shifting night-visitors, we need to keep in
mind that, as Lpez Guereu discovered in his study of the records of Basque municipal
councils from the 16th to the 18th centuries, these members of societyeven at this late
datewere still held in high esteem, as much or more so than Christian priests and
medical practitioners of the time. In the eyes of those serving on the municipal councils
whose duty it was to set forth the conditions and terms of the contracts and vote in favor
of hiring the healers, the seventh-sons and daughters were viewed as legitimate health
providers, even though we can identify admonitions by authorities of the Catholic Church
inveighing against the saludadores. Nonetheless, even members of the Catholic clergy
were often fully complicit in the hirings. For example, in one case, specifically in the
village of Lagrn, the individual that the city council wanted to hire as a saludador was
illiterate and hence wasnt capable of signing the contract they had prepared for him. So
 165

the healer asked his local priest to sign for him which the latter did (Lpez de Guereu
1966: 169).109 In other words, the priest was fully in agreement with the hire.
However, the approval that the Basque healers seemed to have enjoyed at the local
level was not necessarily shared by the Catholic hierarchy. The latter repeatedly sent out
inquisitors (visitadores) to the local parishes in what turned out to be vain attempts to
stamp out practices which they deemed dangerous, if not heretical. The villagers were
told that they should not hire such individuals. Yet, as Lpez de Guereu himself
laments, these implorations fell on deaf ears. In short, there is evidence that for several
centuries the admonitions of these authorities went relatively unheeded by the local
populace and the healers continued to be contracted as before. For example, Lpez de
Guereu indicates that decrees, similar to the following one from 1550, were sent out
repeatedly by various bishops to the villages of Alaba:
Ytem por quanto los saludadores y conjuradores alquilados comunmente son personas
sospechosas y banas y de mal ejemplo, mand el seor Visitador a los vecinos del pueblo no
alquilen ni tengan saludadores ny conjuradores ny hechiceros ny adebinos ny ensalmadores ny
personas que cortan letra ny curan la rosa ni haran [sic] cosas banas ni con subpercisiones ni echen
nomynas ni agan otras cosas banas reagradables del dro. dibino y humano . (1966: 164)110
In later sections of this essay we will see that the high status afforded to the Basque
seventh-sons and daughters in the 18th century may well be a reflected in social practices
found in other parts of Europe where, nonetheless, over time the belief in these healers
was eroded until they were viewed as nothing more than charlatans preying on the sick
and gullible. In the case of the Basque salutariyua there is no indication that the
practitioners sought to justify their official duties and legitimatize their status by plying
their trade under the protection of a Christian saint. Rather they seem to have maintained
their autonomy. As we have seen, this contrasts with what occurred in the case of

109
The following comment is also relevant: [] pero estimamos que con lo reseado es ms que
suficiente para hacernos cargo de lo extendida que estuvo esta plaga en los siglos XVI al XVIII, poniendo
de relieve que los saludadores gozaban, aparte del sueldo, de una categora social tan respetable, o ms, que
la de maestros o mdicos, celebrando con los Concejos contratos como servidores del municipio, algunos
de cuyos documentos copiamos a continuacin como muestra de la importancia que llegaron a tener en
pasados tiempos estos personajes desaprensivos, que tan bien saban aprovecharse de la credulidad
humana [[] but we consider that what has been reviewed is more than sufficent to makes us aware of
how extended this plague [of healers] was from the XVI to the XVIII centuries, emphasizing that the
healers enjoyed, in addition to their salary, a level of social acceptance as respectable, or more so, than that
of teachers and doctors, signing contracts with the councils as employees of the municipality, some of
which we reproduce below as an example of the importance that these unscrupulous characters came to
have, who well knew how to take advantage of human guillibility] (Lpez de Guereu 1966: 168).
110
[And since the healers and conjurers regularly hired are suspicious and immoral people and of bad
example, the Inquisitor ordered that the inhabitants of the village not hire or have healers, conjurers,
wizards, diviners, quacks or persons who cut letters, cure the rose [a rash caused by herpes], do immoral
things, with supersticiones, nor do other immoral things unbecoming to divine and human law... .]
 166

Cataluyna and Valencia where the healers were taken under the wing of the Catholic
Church and allowed to continue to carry out their duties with a kind of Christian
dispensation.

4.0 The French marcou: Another seventh-son healer

In France, the seventh son (or daughter) was called a marcou. He was said to have a
magic sign (birthmark) on his body, sometimes identified as a fleur-de-lis, and that he
had the power to cure certain maladies.111 Although great effort has been exerted to pin
down the etymology of the expression marcou, its ultimate origin is still rather obscure.
Nonetheless, given the significance of these French healers, we need to examine the
French data more closely. First, we find that French dictionaries give the following
definition of the word: Marcou: Homme portant un marque magique sur le corps et qui
possdait, croyait-on, le pouvoir de gurir certaines maladies (Petit Larousse 1963: 432).
It is noteworthy that this 20th century definition of the term makes no mention of the
need for the healer to be the seventh-son. However, other evidence points to the fact that
the magic mark was only one sign that revealed these seventh-sons and daughters had
curative powers. Moreover, the notion that the seventh-son or daughter healer was
endowed with some kind of special physical sign fits into the wider pan-European matrix
of belief in the supernatural powers of the seventh-born. Opie and Tatem (1989: 246-247)
cite one British mid-13th-century source relating to the healing powers of seventh sons
while they present sources dating from the 16th century forward that explicitly attribute
to such children the ability to heal the so-called King's Evil which consequently links
them to the figure of the marcou (cf. also Bloch 1973, [1924] 1983; Vaz da Silva 2003).
Additional important information on the marcous is brought forward in a brief note by
Honor de Mareville which includes an abridged translation of a 1854 article from Le
Journal du Loiret. In Marevilles discussion he mentions specifically that the marcou has
special healing powers: that of curing the King's Evil. The latter expression was used to
refer to a malady called Scrofula (Scrophula or Struma), composed of a variety of skin
diseases; in particular, a form of tuberculosis, affecting the lymph nodes of the neck.
Marevilles summary of the article from Le Journal du Loiret is as follows:
We have more than once had occasion to make our readers acquainted with the superstitious
practices of the Marcous. The Orlanais is the classic land of marcous, and in the Gtinais every

111
Bloch ([1924] 1983: 303) comments on the survival of this belief: [] on lit dans la Revue des
Traditions populaires, IV (1894), p. 555, no 4: dans le Bocage Normand: quand il y a sept filles dans une
famille, la septime porte sur une parties quelconque du corps un fleur de lis et touche du carreau, cest--
dire quelle gurit les inflammations dintestin chez les enfants.
 167

parish at all above the common is sure to have its marcou. If a man is the seventh son of his father,
without any female intervening, he is a marcou; he has on some part of the body the mark of a
fleur-de-lis, and, like the kings of France, he has the power of curing the king's evil. All that is
necessary to effect a cure is, that the marcou should breathe upon the part affected, or that the
sufferer should touch the mark of the fleur-de-lis. Of all the marcous of the Orlanais, he of Ormes
is the best known and most celebrated. Every year, from twenty, thirty, forty leagues around,
crowds of patients come to visit him; but it is particularly in Holy Week that his power is most
efficacious; and on the night of Good Friday, from midnight to sunrise, the cure is certain.
Accordingly, at this season, from four to five hundred persons press round his dwelling to take
advantage of his wonderful powers. (Mareville 1859: 59)

From the text of the article in Le Journal du Loiret we see that this is not the first report
that the newspaper has dedicated to the topic of the activities of the marcous. Moreover,
from the way that the article begins, i.e., The Orlanais is the classic land of marcous,
and in the Gtinais every parish at all above the common is sure to have its marcou,
there is reason to believe that the marcous were once found throughout this geographical
region, if not in all of France, although by the middle of the 19th century they were
perhaps less common in other districts. This conclusion is reinforced by the wording of
phrase: that the Orlanais is the classic land of marcous. There is also a strong
indication that each parish had its own marcou. Whether that individual was paid out of
the municipal coffers cannot be determined, at least not on the basis of the scant data
afforded by this newspaper article.
Mareville (1859: 59) then says that [t]he paper then goes on to describe a disturbance
among the crowds assembled this year, in consequence of the officers of justice having
attempted to put a stop to the imposture. The article concludes thus:
The marcou of Ormes is a cooper in easy circumstances, being the possessor of a horse and
carriage. His name is Foulon, and in the country he is known by the appellation of Le beau
marcou. He has the fleur-de-lis on his left side, and in this respect is more fortunate than the
generality of marcous, with whom the mysterious sign is apt to hide itself in some part of the body
quite inaccessible to the eyes of the curious. (Mareville 1859: 59)

Then there is a rendition of the same news item, from 1854, written by Robert
Chambers whose negative attitude toward the marcou is quite obvious. In fact, the same
attitude, laced with sarcasm and disbelief, is detected on the part of the writer of the
original French news report as well as in Chambers reflections upon it. By their choice
of phrasing both writers reveal their strong disapproval of what they view as superstitious
practices. Yet at the same time we can see that at this point in time the healers were still
attracting large crowds in this region of France. Here is Chambers commentary on the
1854 article:
France, as well as our own country, has a belief in the Seventh Son mystery. The Journal du
Loiret, a French provincial newspaper, in 1854 stated that, in Orleans, if a family has seven sons
and no daughter, the seventh is called a Marcou, is branded with a fleur-de-lis, and is believed to
possess the power of curing the king's evil. The Marcou breathes on the part affected, or else the
 168

patient touches the Marcou's fleur-de-lis. In the year above-named, there was a famous Marcou in
Orleans named Foulon; he was a cooper by trade, and was known as 'le beau Marcou.' Simple
peasants used to come to visit him from many leagues in all directions, particularly in Passion
week, when his ministrations were believed to be most efficacious. On the night of Good Friday,
from midnight to sunrise, the chance of cure was supposed to be especially good, and on this
account four or five hundred persons would assemble. Great disturbances hence arose; and as
there was evidence, to all except the silly dupes themselves, that Foulon made use of their
superstition to enrich himself, the police succeeded, but not without much opposition, in
preventing these assemblages. (Chambers 1869)

Since we do not have access to the original French, there are several aspects of the
account by Mareville (1859) and Chambers (1869) that catch our attention. The first is
that the belief in the special powers of the seventh-son continued to be quite widespread
at this juncture in time in both France and England. In both locations the healing ability
of the individuals had come to be focused narrowly on a particular disease, namely, a
form of tuberculosis which afflicted significant numbers of the population (Barlow 1980).
Then, although there is substantial repetition in terms of the basic facts, the reason that
Chambers found this item of special interest lies elsewhere, namely, in his concern with
the survival of the belief in the special powers of the seventh-son, a belief he would
define as a superstition.
Chambers attitude contrasts with that of Mareville whose gloss is more respectful.
Nonetheless, it would appear that the original author of the news item shared the opinion
of Chambers, namely, that this was a superstition that needed to be rooted out and that
those who believed in the curative powers of the marcous were being deceived. In short,
he held that the marcou of Orleans was a fraud and should be seen as nothing more than a
quack doctor, one who was intent on lining his pockets with ill-gotten goods obtained
from the silly dupes who flocked to him in droves for cures. Both authors openly
express their contempt for these popular practitioners, portrayed by them as imposters
who thrive upon the gullibility of their overly credulous patients. In this respect, we
should recall that even the newer, officially sanctioned members of the medical
community with their blood-sucking leeches and vacuum tubes were not necessarily
immune from criticism. They, too, were often viewed by the public with suspicion and
mistrust. In summary, by the 19th century there are indications that the shamanic
trappings and charismatic aura that had enveloped the marcous in times past were
beginning to fall way.
However, also evident in the 19th century news account is the fact that far from being
social outcasts, among the popular classes, the activities of these marcous formed part of
a revered tradition of curative practices which appear to have been even more widespread
in centuries past. In other words, if Orlanais is defined as the classic land of marcous,
 169

we can intuit that marcous were formerly found in other regions, although perhaps by the
mid-19th century they were not as common in other parts of France.
In order to better understand Chambers interest in the French marcou, we can turn to
the section in which he discusses this social phenomenon in reference to the magical
powers attributed to the number seven, namely, a brief essay entitled Seventh Sons
and their Seventh Sons.
There has been a strong favour for the number Seven, from a remote period in the world's
history. It is, of course, easy to see in what way the Mosaic narrative gave sanctity to this number
in connection with the days of the week, and led to usages which influence the social life of all the
countries of Europe. But a sort of mystical goodness or power has attached itself to the number in
many other ways. Seven wise men, seven champions of Christendom, seven sleepers, seven-
league boots, seven churches, seven ages of man, seven hills, seven senses, seven planets, seven
metals, seven sisters, seven stars, seven wonders of the world,all have had their day of favour;
albeit that the number has been awkwardly interfered with by modern discoveries concerning
metals, planets, stars, and wonders of the world.
Added to the above list is the group of Seven Sons, especially in relation to the youngest or
seventh of the seven; and more especially still if this person happen to be the seventh son of a
seventh son. It is now, perhaps, impossible to discover in what country, or at what time, the notion
originated; but a notion there certainly is, chiefly in provincial districts, that a seventh son has
something peculiar about him. For the most part, the imputed peculiarity is a healing power, a
faculty of curing diseases by the touch, or by some other means. (Chambers 1869)
The English author then provides a series of examples for this belief:
The instances of this belief are numerous enough. There is a rare pamphlet called the Quack
Doctor's Speech, published in the time of Charles II. The reckless Earl of Rochester delivered this
speech on one occasion, when dressed in character, and mounted on a stage as a charlatan. The
speech, amid much that suited that licentious age, but would be frowned down by modern society,
contained an enumeration of the doctor's wonderful qualities, among which was that of being a
'seventh son of a seventh son,' and therefore clever as a curer of bodily ills. The matter is only
mentioned as affording a sort of proof of the existence of a certain popular belief. In Cornwall, the
peasants and the miners entertain this notion; they believe that a seventh son can cure the king's
evil by the touch. The mode of proceeding usually is to stroke the part affected thrice gently, to
blow upon it thrice, to repeat a form of words, and to give a perforated coin or some other object
to be worn as an amulet. (Chambers 1869)
Then we find that in Bristol,
about forty years ago, there was a man who was always called 'Doctor,' simply because he was the
seventh son of a seventh son. The family of the Joneses of Muddfi, in Wales, is said to have
presented seven sons to each of many successive generations, of whom the seventh son always
became a doctorapparently from a conviction that he had an inherited qualification to start with.
In Ireland, the seventh son of a seventh son is believed to possess prophetical as well as healing
power. A few years ago, a Dublin shopkeeper, finding his errand-boy to be generally very dilatory
in his duties, inquired into the cause, and found that, the boy being a seventh son of a seventh son,
his services were often in requisition among the poorer neighbours, in a way that brought in a
good many pieces of silver. (Chambers 1869)

Chambers adds this other example:

Early in the present century, there was a man in Hampshire, the seventh son of a seventh son,
who was consulted by the villagers as a doctor, and who carried about with him a collection of
crutches and sticks, purporting to have once belonged to persons whom he had cured of lame-ness.
Cases are not wanting, also, in which the seventh daughter is placed upon a similar pinnacle of
 170

greatness. In Scotland, the spae wife, or fortune-teller, frequently announces herself as the seventh
daughter of a seventh daughter, to enhance her claims to prophetic power. Even so late as 1851, an
inscription was seen on a window in Plymouth, denoting that a certain doctress was 'the third
seventh daughter,'which the world was probably intended to interpret as the seventh daughter of
the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. (Chambers 1869)112

In summary, the curative abilities ascribed to seventh sons and daughters in the
Basque Country, Catalunya and Valencia coincide with the miraculous powers attributed
to the marcous in France while the underpinnings of the continental datasets converge
even further when they are compared with Chambers review of folk beliefs concerning
the seventh-sons and daughters in England, Scotland and Wales. In fact, the various
datasets we have examined so far lead to the following conclusion concerning the
continuity of belief and to the strong possibility that the English Quack Doctor, the stock
character found in the abbreviated plays of English mumming tradition, the so-called St.
George Plays, belong to this same tradition, albeit their comic counterpart. Moreover,
there is reason to believe that the popular belief in the curative powers of the seventh son
of a seventh son was alive and well even into the late 19th century, to such a point that
members of the medical profession were obliged to berate those who lent public support
to it. They were outraged by the continuing support given in the daily and weekly press,
both secular and religious, to the traveling medical quack whose license to practice
consisted only in the claim that he was a seventh son of seventh son (n.a. 1884).

4.1 Competing healing traditions: Royal and popular representations

As has been noted earlier, the Kings Evil was the term used to refer to a skin disease
called Scrofula (Scrophula or Struma), in particular, a variant form of tuberculosis,
affecting the lymph nodes of the neck. The medical term itself was morbus regius in
Latin which in the Middle Ages was translated into the vernacular: into French as le mal
le roy and into Anglo-Saxon as cynelic adl. In Middle English it became the kings evil
evil as in the Lords Prayer, where translating malumand in this context simply
meaning illness or malady (Barlow 1980: 4). In the late Middle Ages monastic writers
were applying it not only to leprosy and other wasting and scabious diseases but also to

112
Belief in the supernatural powers of the seventh son of seventh son gained a new lease on life in 1988
with release of an album entitled Seventh Son of a Seventh Son by the heavy metal band Iron Maiden,
renowned for its gothic dark sound and predilection for the occult. The widespread popularity of the
musical group insured that the eerie, quite ominous sounding words intoned at the beginning of the song
were heard by millions of young people: Today is born the seventh one; born of woman, the seventh son,
and he in turn of a seventh son, he has the power to heal; he has the gift of a second sight, he is the chosen
one []. The first part of the song can be heard here:
http://www.ironmaiden.com/index.php?categoryid=22&p2_articleid=310.
 171

swellings, such as carbuncles and other eruptions, wherever they might occur on the
body.

Fig. 1. Scrofula in the neck. Source: Wikipedia (2007).

While there is a great deal of confusion concerning what is fact and what is fiction
with respect to the point in time in which the kings of France and England began
practicing this type of ritual healing, there is little doubt that by 1272 there were those
among the populace who thought that both the kings of France and England were curing
the so-called king's disease by their touch, and, moreover, that the disease was called
royal because kings cured it. The logic was circular: kings cured scrofula because it was
the royal disease and scrofula was called the royal disease because kings cured it (Barlow
1980: 13). Moreover, as we shall see, by the close of the Middle Ages the cult of a
particular saint had come to be involved in granting the gift of the royal touch to the
sovereigns of France, the same saint, it should be noted, that was linked to the curative
powers attributed to the popular healers called marcous.
Across the channel we find evidence of the same healing tradition being attached to
the members of the royal family. For instance, it was the practice of Charles II to give
sufferers his healing touch every Friday in the Banqueting Hall in Whitehall. Samuel
Pepys records that Charles conducted the ceremony with the utmost reverence and
gravity while James I, in contrast, was said to touch unwillingly, and refuse to make the
sign of the cross on the ulcers of those who were paraded before him. The custom
reached its zenith during the Restoration. For example, Charles II is said to have touched
more than 90,000 victims between 1660 and 1682. In 1712, we find Queen Anne
touching 200 victims, among them a young boy who was to become Dr. Samuel Johnson.
But King George I put an end to the practice considering it to be too Catholic.
 172

In the case of France, according to popular tradition, by the late Middle Ages the
miraculous healing powers of kings to cure the Kings Evil were being explained by their
devotion to a particular saint, St. Marcoul (or Marculphus). In fact, this saint has played a
major role in explanations that have been put forward to elucidate the origins of the name
given to the popular healers themselves. And in France, too, truly miraculous feats of
healing were attributed to the rulers. For example, it is said that Henry IV of France often
touched and healed as many as 1,500 individuals at a time. On this side of the channel the
custom persisted until Louis XV stopped it in the 1700s, although it was briefly revived
by Charles X between 1824 and 1830 (Barlow 1980; Encyclopdia 2011; Hitchings
2005: 11).

4.2 Observations concerning the etymology of marcou

The etymology of the term marcou has been subjected to considerable scrutiny over the
years (Bloch [1924] 1983: 261-267, 308). Some have theorized that its origins go back to
St. Marcoul, the name of an otherwise legendary abbot from Nanteu, in Normandy.
According to the pious legend that grew up around him, he lived in the 6th century and
was famous for his miracles. Indeed, there is a possibility that the site chosen for the
monastery founded in his honor was a pre-Christian one and that veneration for the tomb
of the saint on display there goes back to earlier religious practices. In any case, the name
of this saint does not surface until some three hundred years after his alleged death, in a
9th century document where the life of the saint is recounted. Bloch characterizes the
document in these terms: [] noffre rien que les fables hagiographiques les plus
banales. [...] En somme il faut nous rsigner ignorer tout, ou presque tout, du saint
homme de Nant. A en juger par les Vies, on ne devait pas, ds le IXe sicle, tre sur son
compte beaucoup mieux inform que nous (Bloch [1924] 1983: 262-263).
By the time that the name of the abbot first appears in print he has become Saint
Marcoul (or Marculphus) and in the following centuries his relics would come to be
revered for their healing properties. Indeed, conflicts over who would possess his bones
would become a major source of controversy and competition. Initially, his powers were
of a general nature and only later, in the 13th century, began to be focused on a single
disease, namely, scrofula. By the 15th century, his tomb was the object of pilgrimages
and the monks attached to it were selling prophylactic amulets with an image of the saint
on them.
 173

Although tradition held that once they were crowned the kings of France, starting with
St. Louis, made an obligatory pilgrimage to obtain the saints blessing, it is more likely
that this ceremony did not come to be observed until the beginning of the 16th century.
For example, Bloch suggests that it was not until the 16th century that members of the
royal families of France began to openly seek to attribute their power to heal the Kings
Evil to this saint, while at the same time it was in this period that the monks in charge of
the holy site of St. Marcoul started to reach out to the popular healers, asking them to
report back to them when they had performed a miracle so that the monks could record
it and in doing so further enhance the reputation of their saint. Thus, a custom of
ambiguous significance, maintained by popular pressure and connived at, even
encouraged, by monastic and ecclesiastical elements produced a situation in which both
groups profited. In other words, it would seem that at some point the popular healers had
come under the protection of this saint and, consequently, by their actions ended up
promoting the efficacy of his cult (Bloch [1924] 1983: 260-308). What initially motivated
this association is less clear.
Finally there is the problem of the specialization itself for although many shrines
gained a reputation for being exceptionally efficacious in some field or other, some of
these associations were verbal and based on puns or legends (Barlow 1980: 16). Thus, we
might ask whether the French marcous came to be associated with the shrine of St.
Marcoul simply because the name of the saint happened to sound like the name that had
been given already to the popular healers? In any case, by the 16th century, both the
popular healers and the kings of France and England were conducting their healing
ceremonies under the auspices of a particular Christian saint, although in England that
saint was St. Remigius. More specifically, the English kings were thought to have
received this power because of their descent from Edward the Confessor, who, in turn,
according to some legends, had received it from St. Remigius.
In conclusion, while there is a clear historical connection between the popular healers
known as marcous and the figure of St. Marcoul, the etymology of the term marcou can
be subjected to a very different interpretation, as we shall see shortly. For now let it
suffice to say that special healing powers were attributed to two different types of
individuals: those who came to the profession because as their birthright as seventh-sons
or daughters and then those who were said to have the same powers but only because
they were transmitted through the royal lineage and reconfirmed through the intercession
of a Christian saint. With these facts in mind, the morphology and functions of the lower-
class marcous are far more in keeping with those of the Basque, Catalan and Valencian
 174

seventh-son and daughter healers even though by the 19th century the duties assigned to
the marcous appear to have been more limited and less structured.

5.0 Weaving together the threads of evidence

So far in this analysis little attention has been paid to cognitive import of the semantic
artifacts carrying numerical connotations related to the number seven. The points made
in this section will serve to shed further light on the complexity of the problem under
analysis. Specifically, it lays out additional lines of converging evidence for the
explanatory model being proposed. As stated earlier, the research model argues that the
wide-spread European belief in the magical powers of the number seven with respect to
the special endowments of a seventh son or daughter (as well as those of the seventh-son
of a seventh-son or daughter) is closely linked to a broader cognitive framework of belief
encountered in the same geographical zone that revolves around the complex psycho-
social embodiment of a sensed presence, that is, the night-mare.
Assigning magical qualities to the number seven is a wide-spread belief, found in
many parts of the world, and even the belief that a seventh son or daughter has special
powers is not uncommon elsewhere. However, here we are talking about a dataset that
has an additional characteristic, namely, linguistic clues that confer other characteristics
to the same individual. Concretely, a cross-linguistic analysis of the meanings of the
names used to refer to the seventh son or daughter suggests that their supernatural
abilities extended to them taking on the qualities of the sensed presence and hence
becoming night-mares with the ability to shape-shift and go out and about at night
while their physical body remained at home in bed and apparently asleep.
And, even more striking is the fact that, as has been discussed previously, in many
European languages names used to refer to the night-mare appear to derive from a
common root, one that I allege represents phonological variants of a pre-Indo-European
etymon, hamalau fourteen. We should recall that Hamalau is also the name of the half-
bear, half-human protagonist of the Bear Son tales who acts as the intermediary between
the world of humans and the world of bears; the being who, as a young shaman
apprentice, undertakes a vision quest (Frank 1997, 2007, 2010). Although phonological
variants of hamalau have been treated in detail elsewhere, at this juncture we still cannot
state with certainty whether the French term marcou belongs to the same set of regional
variants discussed earlier which, viewed cross-linguistically, is a morpho-semantic field
with stems in mamu-, momo-, mar-, mara-, marra-, mora-, mura-, maro- and contains as
 175

well as Basque variants of the term: mamalo, mamarrao, mamarro, mamarrua, marrau,
mamu, mahu, mahumahu, mahuma, and even inguma.113
Terms that refer to the night-mare, as mentioned earlier, include the Germanic
variants in Mare, Mhr, Polish variants spelled as mrawa, myrawa, mrawa, murawa
and morawa and the Bulgarian variant in Maroc, among others. The etymology of the
French term marcou is more obscure, since none of the other regional variants studied to
date do show the development of a stem with a consonant cluster in /rc-/. On the other
hand, the process of phonological erosion that took place could be reconstructed as:
hamalau > *mamalau > *mamarlau > *marlau > marcou. With this sequence the cluster
/rl/ would have produced /rc/. In this respect, it should be noted that in French there are
four other variants that refer to night-mares or croquemitaines, namely, mamau /
babaou alongside marmau / barbau, the latter with consonant clusters in /rm/ and /rb/.
The meanings of the terms are essentially identical to those of the Sardu words mommoi,
mommai, marragoi and marragau.
Sainan, citing Jaubert, explains the meaning of the word this way : Marcou, le
septime garon dune mre, sans fille interpose le marcou passe pour sorcier
(1905: 79). The variants Sainan lists for marcou include marlou, maraud and macaud.
The variants suggest that the term was an expression without a fixed pronunciation and
that the variation in them represent repeated attempts on the part of speakers to hit upon
the correct pronunciation. As long as the term was known only orally, there was a
certain level of uncertainty as to how it was supposed to be pronounced and even more so
in terms of how it was to written down. Over time, a written canonical form would
emerge and be agreed upon, that is, marcou, the one regularly used in textual references
to describe this seventh-born sorcerer. However, as Sainan noted, quite curiously, the
four variants cited above are used to refer to a tom-cat as well as to the miraculous
seventh-son or daughter.
In addition, Sainan attempts to explain marcou as a variant of French words meaning
night-mare : Il est donc contemporain de cauchemar (XVe s. : quauquemare et

113
With the exception of inguma which evolved from mahuma, all these variants show nasal spread, that
is, the word ends up having two /m/ sounds. In order to understand what has taken place with the
phonological shape of the expression hamalau, we need to keep in mind that in many Basque dialects the
letter /h/ is silent. Therefore, in these dialects hamalau would have been pronounced as amalau (as it is
today in Batua, the Basque unified standard). This means that because of the phenomenon of nasal spread,
the word ended up with two /m/ sounds, the /m/ which starts the second syllable spread to the beginning of
the word: amalau > *mamalau. Also, I would remind the reader that since Basque has no gender, a variant
form such as mamalo should not be interpreted through the grammatical lens of a speaker of a Romance
language. In other words, while the -o ending on these variants might appear (to some Romance speakers)
to be indicative of masculine gender, in Basque this is certainly not the case.
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cauquemarre, Nicot : cauchemar et chaucemare), dont le terme final parat remonter la

mme notion de chat-sorcier (cf. plus haut maraud). [] et le wall. marc, cauchemar
(Lige chotte-marque = chauquemarc), cte de mar [] (Sainan 1905: 80). He
compares the stem mar- found in marcou and as well in the second element of the
compound cauchemar to Sic. mazzamarro (mazzamareddu), cauchemar, et Napl.
mazzamaurielo, lutin, est le chat (dmon ou sorcier) [] (Sainan 1905: 80). Finally, he
cites a curious belief associated with these sorcerer-cats, a superstition which links their
activities to a specific day, concretely, Martedi Grasso: Le soir du mardi gras, les chats-
sorciers allaient faire le sabbat un certain endroit. []. Jaubert, quoted by Sainan,
states the superstition in a slightly different fashion and with a slightly different spelling
for the items under examination: On prtend que le jour de mardi gras, les macauds ou
marauds vont faire bombance avec le diable (Sainan 1905: 79-80).
In summary, although the etymology of marcou is still unclear, if one examines the
content of the French morpho-semantic field more carefully, a pattern emerges. The set
of meanings contained in it organize themselves around concepts we have seen before in
the case of the Sardu terms: shaman-healer, sorcerer, bogey-man, night-mare. And the
variants of night-mare cited by Sainan, namely, marc and chauquemarc, suggest that a
variant in marc- was in use with similar meanings. Then, just as one of the components of
the field of meanings found in Sardu includes the mamuthones / mamutzones, we might
ask whether the reference to the belief in marcouds going out the night of Mardi Gras is a
reminiscence of actual past ritual practices celebrated on that day.
While recognizing that until now the etymology of marcou has often been traced back
sounds made by tom-cats, there is another approach. Even though the senses found in the
semantic field the term marcou and its phonological variants coincide closely with the
meanings contained in the morpho-semantic field of terms referring to the night-mare,
we are left with the question of why this semantic field also contains the notion of a
cat. Sainan explains that terms such as marcou and margou are imitations of the
sounds made by a cat (or a pig).
MARC ou MARG, particulier au Centre et au Midi de la France.
marc, matou, H.-Sane ; Vosges marc, H.-Bret. marcaou (Creuse margaou) ; marco, Nivre, etc.
(Corrze margo), et marcou, Loire-Inf., margou, Tarn, Aveyron (les deux derniers aussi en anc.
Fr.) ; marco (= marco), matou, Char, Nivre []. Ce dernier type exprime la notion de gronder,
commune au chat et au cochon : marcou ou margou, chat mle, signifie simplement grondeur
[]. (Sainan 1905: 19)

He then argues for a semantic pathway constituted by a sequence involving the following
two cognitive steps: 1) the sounds made by a tom-cat became a way of naming the animal
that emitted them, then; 2) since cats were viewed as familiars of witches and used in
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rituals, the name of the familiar was transferred to the witch or sorcerer. Although there is
a certain logic in this sequence, it does not explain why the same semantic stem produces
words meaning specifically night-mare. An alternative approach would be one that
accepts, on the one hand, that the sequence of sounds in marcou and margou was the
basis for referring to a tom-cat using these and similar sounding terms, but which then
argues that the meanings of sorcerer, bogey-man and night-mare derive from a
different source, the knowledge of which was lost over time by speakers of the language.

6.0 Quack doctors and Mummers Plays in England, Scotland and Wales

The scene in which the Bear character is killed and then resurrected is a standard
component of the Good-Luck performances all across Europe. In Mummers Plays, the
central incident is the killing and restoring to life of one of the characters. The characters
may be introduced in a series of short speeches (usually in rhyming couplets) or they may
introduce themselves in the course of the play's action. The principal characters of the
plays, presented in a wide variety of manner and style, are a Hero, his chief opponent, the
Fool and a Quack Doctor. As mentioned earlier, a defining feature of mumming plays is
the Doctor, and the main purpose of the fight is to provide him with a patient to cure. The
hero sometimes kills and sometimes is killed by his opponent; in either case, the Doctor
comes to restore the dead man to life. The reenactments are found throughout much of
England, Scotland and Wales.
In the English tradition the hero is most commonly Saint George, King George, or
Prince George. His principal opponents are the Turkish Knight (in southern England), or
a valiant soldier named Slasher (elsewhere). In English Mummers plays featuring St.
George (St. Nicholas and/or Father Christmas), the cast of actors has been modified so
that the performer who is killed and resurrected is no longer a bear, but rather a fully
anthropomorphic being in a plot that speaks of the hero being killed by a villain or vice-
versa, while the ploy used to bring about the characters death is often a combat that pits
the defender of Christian values, e.g., St. George, against his pagan enemy, e.g., a
Turkish knight and/or a dragon.
The following is a typical description of the performance piece:
Each Mummers' play was different, with different scripts and characters. What remains central to
all the plays is the death and resurrection theme. So a doctor always appears, Saint George is
usually present, as is his nemesis, the Turkish Knight or the dragon. [] At the heart of the piece
is the central (most humorous and most archaic) moment of the play: the bringing back to life of
the slain hero by the quack doctor. (BBC [n.d.])
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The salience of this scene is such that Peter Millington, one of the leading authorities
on Mummers Plays, has argued that the common linking factor [of the plays] is the
presence of a quack doctor. Indeed it would not be out of place to call them Quack
Doctor plays to distinguish them from other English folk plays []. There were earlier
quack doctors in plays, the Doctor having been a stock character in stage drama for a
long time. Perhaps the most important is the Doctor in early English Pantomimes, which
owes its origins to the Italian Commedia dell'arte. In fact, Millington goes so far as to
propose a new term for such plays: To define the textual scope of this study I have
introduced the new term Quack Doctor Play to replace the traditional terminology of
Mummers Play or Mumming Play (Millington 1989).
In the Mummers Plays the portrayal of the healer is clearly comedic. For example,
there is not a hint of the respect that was paid to the popular healers of times past, the
seventh-sons and daughters that we have discussed. In these performances, the character
has become a kind of parody of his profession, reduced to nothing more than a boastful
charlatan, even though in the Doctors speeches there are echoes of the supernatural
healing powers attributed to the seventh-son or seventh-son of a seventh-son. In this way
the figure of the Quack Doctor has survived and continues to be an integral part of these
highly abbreviated yet ritualized performances in which his miraculous powers, albeit
comedic ones, are highlighted and used to bring the dead back to life.
In the performance art of other parts of Europe, it is relatively clear that over time the
role of the shaman-healer in resurrecting the Bear character was taken over by a Quack
Doctor, although, quite remarkably, in some locations both characters appear to have
survived, right alongside each other, concretely in Bagnres-de-Bigorre in the south-
western Hautes-Pyrnes. In other locations, in representations of the scene of the Death
and Resurrection of the Bear, the shaman-healer and the Bear have disappeared entirely
from the stage. The scene has been restructured so that the audience witnesses a fight
between two historically situated and fully anthropomorphic characters with recognizable
names whose identities are, therefore, no longer ambiguous (e.g., the Turkish Knight and
St. George) to the members of the audience. That encounter in turn produces the death of
one of the actors which in turn justifies the intervention of the Quack Doctor who revives
the victim. Whereas the outer trappings of the scene have changed, the basic script has
remained the same: one of the characters falls down, dies and is attended to by a healer
who miraculously brings him back to life. Indeed, according to Millington, this scene is
not peripheral to the dramatic actions carried out during the performances, but rather a
fundamentally essential component of them (Millington 1989).
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7.0 Resurrecting the Bear

As was discussed in Frank (2008, 2009), one of the central scenes in the Good-Luck
Visits has been the scene of the Death and Resurrection of the Bear. In the case of the
Sardinian performances, similar terms have been employed to describe this aspect of the
performance piece (Fois 2002a). In the picture (Fig. 2) showing the Mamutzones of
Samugheo in a performance at Gavoi, we see the domadore who is the owner of the
bear, next to the dead Bear. However, he does not intervene to revive the Bear. In
contrast, in Mamoiade the bear mask itself had disappeared by the end of the19th century.
As will be discussed shortly, it appears that in most archaic versions of the
performance the act of resurrecting the Bear was the responsibility of the Bear Leader,
that is, the domadore. In the case of the performance of the Mamutzones of Samugheo
there is no longer any Quack Doctor among the members of the cast. Yet the Bear and the
scene of Death before Resurrection continue to be an integral part of the play. In
reference to this scene and the visual narrative embedded in it, Fois obtained this report
from an elderly gentleman from Samugheo, referring to the period just after World War
II. The informants description of the dramatic action included these details: that the man
dressed as the Bear was tired and fell down dead. Then the others gathered around the
animal, that is, there were four or five domadores who spoke about who had killed the
Bear, who was responsible for its death. And everyone pointed the blame at someone else
(Fois 2002a). Bertolotti (1992) also speaks of this aspect of the performance referring to
it as la commedia dellinnocenza and comparing it to similar scenes acted out, often
quite comedically, in Siberian Bear Festivals which celebrate the death of a real bear
which the hunters have killed,.

Fig. 2. Scene of the Death before Resurrection of Surtzu as performed by the Mamutzones of
Samugheo. Source: Fois (2002a).
 180

At this juncture we can begin to explore in more detail the way that the scene of Death
and Resurrection is performed in other venues and more importantly why an instrument
such as a chalumeau, bellows or syringe might play a major role in the events represented
visually in this particular scene. In Bagnres de Bigorre, Hautes-Pyrenes, France, a
slightly different version of this scene of the play is encountered, as witnessed and
photographed by Jean-Dominique Lajoux in 1975. His description of this aspect of la
sortie de lours en Bigorre is as follows: Une troupe de masques va de maison en
maison, prsenter un ours savant conduit par un oursaire. Lors de la reprsentation, lours
est tu par mprise. Le mdecin de la troupe ne saura ramener lanimal la vie, mais
loursaire russira dans cette entreprise en utilisant son grand bton comme un chalumeau
pour souffler au cul de lours mort et le ramener la vie (Lajoux 1996: 91).

Fig. 3. Resurrecting the bear in Bigorre, Haute Pyrnes. Source: Lajoux (1996: 90).

In this instance, after the Bear is killed, the Quack Doctor comes to revive him, but is
unsuccessful and it is the Bear Leader who brings the creature back to life, by blowing
into his anus, using his long staff as if it were a chalumeau, a kind of counterpart of a
bellows. The slight discrepancy in the distribution of roles is probably explained by the
 181

fact that previously the Bear Leader was the actor in charge of resurrecting the animal:
his role was still shamanic and therefore it included him being assigned the role of healer.
Over time recognition of the shamanic nature of this character was lost, and this aspect of
the his role was taken over by a Quack Doctor who arrived with his portmanteaux filled
with special instruments and set about bringing the deceased Bear back to life. In the
particular case of the performance in Bagnres-de-Bigorre, the transition is not complete
for while the Quack Doctor appears on the scene, the duty of resurrecting the animal ends
up falling back on the Bear Leader who was, in all probability, the actor originally in
charge of this aspect of the drama.
In other locations, such as Barges, a very scruffy Quack Doctor appears carrying his
instruments in a black leather satchel. But in addition he is outfitted with a large wooden
phallus and matching pair of wooden testicles, not exactly what one would expect a
member of the medical profession to be wearing in the 20th century, much less
displaying in public (Dendaletche 1982: 83-84). Chronologically speaking, this
combination of accessories evokes two different interpretative frames, one more archaic
than the other, one more in accordance with modern sensibilities and the other less so.
Before continuing with this discussion of the actions of the shaman doctor, we need to
explore the symbolism behind the scene itself. To do so requires us to reflect a bit on the
hibernation cycle of bears and consider the symbolic projections of the bears apparent
supernatural ability to hibernate in the first place. Paul Shepard has suggested that it was
the bears remarkable capacity to go underground, so to speak, go into a rather death-like
state and be resurrected months later that caught the attention of humans early on. In
other words, this aspect of the bears life cycle was what humans fixated on while at the
same time recognizing the striking morphological parallels holding between the two
species: humans and bears. They both walked upright, the foot print left by a bear was
much like that left by a bare-foot human, albeit much larger; they ate the same things,
craved honey, sought out the same luscious berry patches and fruit trees. Salmon and
even trout fishing were passions held in common (Shepard 1999).
Witnessing the apparent death and resurrection of the bear year after year, must have
left a deep impression on the humans who shared the same habitat, living off the same
resources, but unable to pass the winter months of scarcity in the same way: comfortably
snuggled into a bed of spruce boughs and moss without needing to eat or drink. And the
same was true of the young cubs who during their first two or three years of life would
den with their mother while there was no concern on her part with laying up a supply of
winter food for them or herself. In short, humans would have noticed that bears never
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bothered to fill their pantry for winter as chipmunks, ground squirrels and some other
hibernating mammals seemed to do.114
Equally amazing must have been the fact that bears not only did not eat or drink for
the duration of their dormancy, they never urinated or defecated. Rather than finding a
den filled with bear scat once the bear abandoned it in the Spring, the most that was
found would be a single relatively small fecal plug, the size of which depended on the
length of the animals hibernation and species of bear, ranging from one inch up to 7
inches. The latter is usually found near the entrance of the den or nearby. Shortly after
awakening the creature voids this anal plug, an act accompanied by a prolonged and
odoriferous bear fart. Then after the fecal plug is discharged, the bear's digestive system
slowly returns to normal. Attention must have been paid by hunters to this bear fart for it
signaled that the bear was waking up: sluggishly coming back to life. It indicated both a
juncture in time when the bear was more vulnerable to hunters and at the same time, a
signal that Spring was on its way.
Interpreting the meaning of a ritual resurrection by means of blowing into the anus of
the creature is somewhat more complicated. However, it does appear to have something
to do with archaic beliefs concerning the bear fart which occurs just as the animal
awakens from its long winter sleep. Because of the animistic cosmology of times past,
this action appears to have been linked symbolically to the releasing of the souls of plants
and animals: fecundating nature. Also there are the other beliefs that linked letting air
with the release or escape of a soul-like substance: ones breath being expelled in a
sneeze or breaking wind in farting. Hence, involuntary emissions of air, such as sneezing,
were considered dangerous and it would seem that verbal ritual protection was required
when they took place.
Even today, when a person sneezes it evokes a particular kind of verbal response from
the other person present, a reaction grounded in what is now a totally out-dated belief.
The person needs to be blessed or otherwise protected with ritual sayings, such as Bless
you, God bless you or Gesundheit. Other acceptable blessings to ward off the evil
forces are "Long may you live," or "May you enjoy good health" and the even older
saying, The Devil get behind you!. The latter traditional saying is clearly motivated by

114
Certain small mammals, called true hibernators, spend most of the winter in a state similar to death, their
body temperature approximating that of the environment. In contrast, the bears body temperature
decreases by only 5 to 10 degrees Fahrenheit, approximately 2-5 degrees Celsius, so relatively speaking,
bears dont hibernate that deeply and are therefore still aware of their surroundings. Nonetheless, a bear
rarely emerges from its den in the middle of the winter. Rather during its winter dormancy period, the
bear's life processes go into economy mode. Its heart rate drops from 55 to less than ten beats per minute,
and the metabolic rate declines. Yet if disturbed, as hunters well knew, a bear would wake up.
 183

the notion that when one sneezed, the devil or some evil spirit was trying to steal the
persons soul. In short, drawing an analogy from Native-American beliefs we could argue
that the magical reinsertion of breath or wind into the Bear by the shaman-healer was
equivalent to reinserting the soul into the body (Brown 1990, 1993). Upon death, it is
this spirit that leaves us, this magical wind that we otherwise draw in and out of our
bodies, quite unconsciously. Thus, in the scene of Death and Resurrection, the shaman-
healer can be seen reinserting this vital force into the animals body.115
Also, we should remember that in the case of real bears, in the spring hunters were
often able to locate the tute of the bear, that is, its snowy winter den, by following the
very pungent smell of the bears fart, a prolonged fart that, as we have discussed,
coincided with the bears awakening and the reactivation of its digestive track. Today the
reasons why bears neither urinate nor defecate are understood, although they still do not
cease to amaze 21st century researchers. But there is more to this story because in the
Pyrenees popular tradition also holds that the when the bear goes into hibernation it takes
up the souls of all creatures into its belly. In the spring, these souls are released. Although
it is not explicitly stated that the expulsion of these spirits coincides with the monumental
bear fart that accompanies the bears awakening from its profound winter sleep, that
assumption would seem to be logical. Moreover, in their discussion of this Pyrenean
myth, Gaignebet and Floretin fuse together two different but closely related types of
actors under the rubric of psychopomp: the figure of lhomme sauvage on the one hand
and on the other, bears. Concretely, they state that:
Carnaval marque la dernire nouvelle lune dhiver, correspondant au Mardi Gras-Chandeleur
(variable et clef antrieure). On clbre essentiellement cette date la dshibernation de lours.
Cet animal porteur dans son ventre des mes des morts (le pet de dshibernation de lours es
connu dAristote), les libre alors. Il est accompagn de son fils, mi-homme, mi-ours, homme
sauvage. Les rcits mdivaux de lhomme sauvage (Merlin) et de Jean de lOurs [] sont les
mythes qui se rapportent cette date. (Gaignebet and Florentin 1974: 10-11)

In their discussion of the performance art associated with February 2nd, known as
Candelmas in the Christian calendar and as Bear Day in the earlier one, Gaignebet and
Floretin remind us that it is at the Chandeleur-Carnival period that for the first time we
see the rise of the psychopomp, the wild man or the bear that emerges from hibernation,
bringing from the underworld in his belly or his bladder, in the form of farts or urine, the
souls of the departed (Gaignebet and Florentin 1974: 123).

115
There is a reference to farting in Gargantua et Pantagruel and we find that souls depart by the back
passage (Bakhtin 1981: 189). Indeed, there is an entire chapter dedicated to letting wind and where at one
point Pantagruel farts little men. Also, there has been speculation that the book itself was inspired in some
fashion by French folktales concerning the character Jean lOurs, portrayed in those tales as a half-human,
half-bear figure of gigantic proportions and great appetite.
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Nous retrouvons ici en jeu dans les coutumes et les ftes ce que nous pourrions appeler la loi
dalternance quarantenaire. Cest la Chandeleur-Carnaval que peut surgir une premire fois ltre
psychopompe, homme sauvage ou bien ours qui dshiberne, ramenant du monde souterrain, dans
son ventre ou dans une vessie, sous forme de pets ou de vesses, les mes de lau-del. (Gaignebet
and Florentin 1974: 123)

At this juncture we can take up once again our analysis of the scene from the
performance in Bagnres-de-Bigorre in which the Bear Leader shaman-healer is putting
his chalumeau to use. In it we seem to be witnessing a ritual replenishing the dead bears
soul though the use of a device that simulates a fart. This in turn enlivens the body of the
animal at this juncture in the performance. Thus, the action may well be related in some
fashion to the sacred bear fart that commemorates the end of bears hibernation and acts
to liberate [the souls] at this moment (Gaignebet and Florentin 1974: 11). In this case,
it would be the Bear Leader shaman doctor who expels the fart into the body of the other,
re-awakening in this way the bear character who then jumps up, alive and healthy once
more. Moreover, when this scene was reenacted during Carnival, we might assume that
the audience would have identified in it the theme of Death and Resurrection.
Although a detailed study of the Italian variants of this scene is outside the scope of
this introductory essay, I would like to cite Bertolottis summary of what are relatively
contemporary renditions of the scene. As can be seen, in some instances there appears to
have been an effort to make explicit to the audience the cause of death:
Lusanza di sottoporre Carnevale, rappresentato da un uomo in carne e ossa o da un fantoccio,
a un intervento chirurgico attestata in varie regioni dItalia, dallOttocento ai giorni nostri. In una
mascherata calabrese della fine del secolo scorso, il poveretto moriva prima che i due chirughi,
armati di spiedo, padella e altri arnesi da cucina e da macello, potessero mettergli le mani addosso.
Nella maggior parte di casi che ci sono noti, la morte di Carnevale risulta invece come diretta
conseguenza delloperazione. A Staffolo (Ancona) ove susava operare Carnevale ancor pochi
decenni fa, il chirugo concludeva lintervento con le rituali parole: Loperazione andata bene,
ma lammalato morto. (Bertolotti 1992: 73-74)116

According to Bertolotti, there are three characters who can play the role of the deceased:
a bear, a stuffed figure or a gypsy woman: [...] Nelle rappresentazioni carnevalesche del
Reatino, le vittime, oltre al pupazzo di San Carnevale, potevano essere la maschera
dellorso oppure la pucca (una grossa bambola di pezza) o la zingara incinta, che il
medico aiutava a partoire squarciandone il ventre a coltellate e sbudellandole; ma sia le

116
The custom of subjecting Carnival, represented by a man of flesh and bones or a puppet, to a surgical
intervention is attested in various regions of Italy, from the nineteenth century to the present day. In a
Calabrian masquerade from the end of the last century, the poor man died before the two physicians, armed
with skewers, a pan and other tools for cooking and butchering, could lay hands on him. In most of cases
that are known to us, the death of Carnival is [portrayed] rather as a direct consequence of the operation.
At Staffolo (Ancona) where, even a few decades ago, there existed the custom of operating on Carnival, the
Surgeon concluded his speech with the ritual words: "The operation went well, but the patient died"
(Bertolotti 1992: 73-74).
 185

partorienti che lorso erano talora riportati in vita da un nuovo intervento dello stesso
dottore117 (Bertolotti 1992: 74).118
As has been noted, the scene in which an actor dressed as a bear falls down dead and
is subsequently revived by another actor is a key component of the Good-Luck Visits,
where the retinue visits individual houses or goes about the streets of the village and at
the same time it is a scene that is reenacted during Carnival. In this respect the role
played by the Bear in Sardinian performance art is quite significant, as documented by
Moretti in the 1960s and further elaborated upon by Bertolotti in his remarkable study of
the Italian Carnival (Bertolotti 1992; Moretti 1963, 1967). Moreover, in the next section,
the survival of the Bear in Sardinian ritual performances will become a significant piece
of ethnographic evidence as we move forward in search of the etymology of Maramao.

8.0 In search of Maramao: Semantic and ethnographic evidence

The task of pinning down the etymology of Maramao has occupied Italian ethnographers
and linguists for many years. Over a century ago, Sainan composed an exhaustive study
called La cration mtaphorique en franais et en roman: Le chat (1905), in which he
argued for the polysemic rather than homonymic nature of expressions such as maramao.
His work started from the assumption that onomatopoeic expressions evoking the sounds
of a cat gave rise to the other meanings documented for the terms he examines, such as
those associated with a night-mare. For example, he lists the meanings of scarecrow
and bugbear among the senses that derive logically from a sound characteristic of a
domestic feline. The deductive logic he employs in reaching this conclusion is based on
the assumption that the association between cats and witchcrafttheir role as familiars
or their use in other pagan rituals was what established the semantic linkage. While there
is no doubt that cats occupy a special place among animals associated with witchcraft and
sympathetic magic, in this section I shall argue that in the case of the etymology of the

117
"[...] In Carnival performances from Reatino, the victims, in addition to the puppet of Saint Carnival,
could be the bear masker [the masked figure representing the bear] or the pucca (a big rag doll) or a
pregnant gypsy [zingara] who the doctor helped to give birth ripping open her belly with a knife and
disemboweling it, but whether [the victims were represented by] pregnant women or at times by the bear
they were sometimes brought to life by a new intervention by the same doctor" (Bertolotti 1992: 74).
118
In the case of the latter character, in Basque performances, she seemed to have had a rather different
role.
 186

terms listed by Sainan as cognates, we are dealing with two separate sets of meaning
that fell together over time.
Speaking of terms referring to tres imaginaires which Sainan views as generated by
the sound made by a cat, he lists the following expressions as sharing both meanings. On
the one hand, according to Sainan, the words refer to the croquemitaine, a mythical
being roughly equivalent to the bugbear, bogeyman in the rest of Europe. 119 That is, on
the one hand, the terms enumerated here by Sainan cover the same semantic ground as
spauracchio, mangiabambini, and fantasma in Italian and, when viewed more closely,
correspond closely to lUomo del sacco, the frightening creature with a sack who carries
off misbehaving children, also known as lUomo nero or the Babau / Babou (Bracchi
2009: 194-196; Canobbio 1998: 74-75; 2006: 140; Frank 2009a: 116-124). Then there is
the second meaning of the terms listed by Sainan which refers to caterwauling or
meowing.
More specifically, his examples are the following: pouvantail: It. mao (Bergame);
[Occ.] Prov. mamiau; (Sic.) mamau, mamiu (Sainan 1905: 67, 70). Once again the
words are said to refer to a type of goblin or bugbear: espce de lutin: [Occ.] Prov.
marmau (barbau), ogre (= chat qui miaule); Venise marmutone, mamutone, bte noire,
rpondant au [Occ.] Lang. marmoutin, chat (Sainan 1905: 70). Again we see reference
made to the variants for ogre in mamau / babau and marmau / barbau discussed earlier.
While examining the linguistic examples, we need to keep in mind the dialectal variants
found in Sardu, mentioned earlier in section 3.0 of the current study, and their definitions
as supernatural beings such as spauracchio, mangiabambini, monstro, babau, mannaro,
and spettro. At the same time, as discussed previously, in Sardu we find three stem types
in mamu-, momo- and marra- which carry similar meanings alongside Sardinian terms
such as mamuttone and mamutzone which today refer to a specific set of masked
performers connected to Carnival.
Sainan also gives these examples, again assuming all the meanings (scarecrow,
bugbear, devil, etc.) derive from the meowing of cats: pouvantail: Cme mamao
(maramao), Sic. marramau (marramamau, mirrimimiu), propr. miaulement (It. morimeo

119
The compound term croquemitaine, written also as croquet-mitaine and croquemitain, when translated
literally, means mitten-biter. This excerpt from Wikipedia recounts the legend that seems to have
motivated the term : Dans les rgions o l'hiver peut tre rigoureux, un croque-mitaine (Jan del Gel, en
Val d'Aran) mange le nez et les doigts de l'enfant (les parties du corps les plus exposes aux gelures). La
crainte provoque par la menace de tels personnages cre une peur qui n'a plus besoin d'tre motive : le
croque-mitaine se cacherait sous le lit ou dans le placard et attendrait qu'un pied ou une main dpasse du lit
pour tirer dessus, l'enfant serait alors aspir sous le lit et disparatrait pour toujours (Wikipedia 2011). Cf.
Loddo and Peten (1998) and Betemps (1998) for examples of various types of these bogeymen, such as
the babao / babou, known today collectively as croquemitaines.
 187

voici di dolare, Fanfani); Sic. maumma, diable (cf. Gnes mduma fatto straordinario
compiuto a caso), propr. chat qui miaule (Sic. mamau) (Sainan 1905: 71). With
respect to the Italian examples of maumma and mduma, we might compare them to the
set of Basque phonological variants discussed earlier, used to describe the fearsome
night-visitor or night-mare. These include the following: mamu, mahu, mahumahu,
mahuma and inguma. In Basque it is also known by the far less phonologically eroded
compound expression hamalau-zango (hamalau-zaingo) which has retained the etymon
hamalau (cf. Frank 2009a: 121-129). In comparing these and other examples, one needs
to keep in mind that the lexical representations of wordstheir spellingsare always
approximations of what the speaker has heard, not exact phonetic transcriptions of the
sounds themselves.
More recently Masson has speculated that meanings associated with terms such as
maramao are polysemous and derive etymologically from the onomatopoeic meaning of
the term: that the etymology of expression the goes back to the sounds made by the cat
but that later a secondary meaning arose through the association of felines with witchcraft
and other types of rituals associated with the charivari performances celebrated at
Carnival time (Masson 2008).120 In short, Masson is in full agreement with Sainan. On
the other hand, I would argue that the two sets of meanings attached today to the word
maramao have totally separate origins and that the resulting semantic confusion is
nothing more than the consequence of a fortuitous phonological convergence and the
resultant semantic bleaching of the original meaning of maramao, i.e., as a shaman-
healer, as a kind of Spirit of Carnival; and furthermore that the etymology of the
Sardinian carnival charactersthe Mamutzones along with Surzu, their bearbelong to
the same cultural and linguistic complex and harken back to the much more archaic pan-
European belief in an ursine ancestry.
Another odd member of the group of frightening otherworldly beings is the terrorific
Gatto Mammone whose characterstics dove-tail with those of other mangibambini such
as the Sardinian marragau and mommoti who were also regularly called upon by parents
(Fois 2008; Frank 2008a: 108-111; Paulis 1997: 173). However, while the marragau and
mommoti continue to be scary, they are quite undefined, rather amorphous creatures that
over time did not morph into cats. The Gatto Mammone was described to me recently as
an invented mythological creature, called upon by the parents of very little children in
order to make them behave well and keep quiet: Fai il bravo bambino, altrimenti chiamo
il Gatto Mammone! Sta' attento, altrimenti viene il Gatto Mammone e ti mangia!"

120
For more details on the use of black cats for such rituals in the Basque region, cf. (Frank 1989, 2005).
 188

(Grosskopf 2011).121 Leaving aside the feline characteristics of the creature, the rest of
the adjectives used to describe it could be applied quite easily to the Sardinian marragau
and mommoti.
As far as I have been able to determine, the activities of the Gatto Mammone are
limited to being a mangiabambini who goes out at night. That is, the creature doesnt take
an active part in Carnival or show up on Shrove Tuesday. On the other hand, in Sardinia,
specifically in Ogliastra, we find another cat-like creature called Maimone, rather than
Mammone, who does. Represented as a fantoccio di stracci, topped off with a cat-like
head, Maimone is said to be the personification of Carnival. Paulis states that in Ierzu and
Ulassai it is called su maimlu while in Neoneli the fantoccio di stracci is referred to also
as su maumne.122
Paulis also discusses house-visits carried by children in this zone. When a drought
would occur, the elderly women of the town would implore the children to carry out a
particular ritual which had them going about the village, door to door, carrying an image
of Maimone. Stopping at each house, the children would sing a song, a kind of prayer, an
invocation directed to Maimone whose intervention was being solicited to bring down
rain. While Paulis records several variants of the song, there are two that stand out. In the
first, the Christian deity is not mentioned and it is only Maimone who is supplicated and
praised, whereas in the second variant, we find two different figures being petitioned
simultaneously: 1) Maimne, Maimne / bba gre su lare / bba gre su sikku, /
Maimone laudu (Maimne, Maimne, i seminati vogliono acqua, la terra arida vuole
acqua, Maimne [sia] lodato); and 2) Maimne, Maimne, / bba gre su lare / bba
gre su sikkau, / Du sia laudau (Maimne, Maimne . . . Dio sia lodato; cos a
Tadasuni) (Paulis 1991: 53-54). We might speculate that earlier this ritual was in the
hands of adults and that over time a kind of generational down-grading occurred, as often
happens in the case of rituals that for one reason or another are abandoned by the adult
members of a community (Frank 2009a: 110-111). Finally, in terms of an interpretation
that would equate Maimone with a pre-Christian divinity, a supernatural being with the
power to bring rain, we might keep in mind the words of the Basque ethnologist and
linguist Patziku Perurena who in a radio interview, dating from 2000, stated that perhaps
the best interpretation of the figure of Hamalau would be to compare him to the Christian
notion of God. In short, Perurena suggested that Hamalau might be understood best in
121
According to Grosskopf, these sayings were still commonplace in the 1950s, but today are no longer
employed by parents.
122
As for the etymology of maimone, Paulis (1991) prefers to derive the term from similar sounding words
meaning baboon.
 189

following way: that for Basques this creature was their pre-Christian deity (Hamalaua,
gure Jaingo Fourteen, our god) (Perurena 1993: 265; 2000).
In the same location in Sardinia, namely, in the zone of Ogliastra, we find another
menacing cat-like figure who is out and about on a specific day, namely, Mardi Gras, a
behavior reminiscent of the alleged activities of the French marouds and marcouds who
were said to go out on the same day. Moretti describes the creature and its activities on
this day as follows:
Lo stesso nome che nel paese distingue il martedi di Carnevale marti perra (perra = met) ci
riporta leco di unaltra antichissima convinzione: il popolo personificava il martedi grasso in un
gatto che assaliva, squartandoli addirittura, coloro che si recavano a lavorare nei campi disertando
la mascherata.
In altri centri come Ulassai (Nu) martis berri (berri = dolore) elargiva invece improvvisi,
quanto violenti, dolori fisici agli incauti intenti ad un lavoro, qualunque esso fosse.
Contemporaneamente il dolore era accompagnato da una voce tonante che diceva: deu soi martis
berri, beniu po ti ferri. (Moretti 1963)123

Moretti continues describing the retinue that accompanies the figure of Martisberri which
includes the maimulus: Ma fermiamo l'attenzione sul corteggio cos come lo ricordano i
paesani non pi giovanissimi. Un araldo, su cuadderi, a cavalcioni di un bastone sulla
cui sommit era conficcato un cranio equino, annunziava con rime allusive il passaggio
delle maschere is maimulus (Moretti 1963).124
The figure known as Martiperra or Martisberri has a particular role: that of acting as a
kind of guardian of Carnival and insuring that everyone takes part in it. In describing the
performance in Gairo, celebrated in 1961, Moretti adds these comments: Per tutto quel
giorno vigeva nel villaggio lobbligo di astenersi da qualunque attivit, specie agricola.
Alla rigorosa osservanza di questo tab del lavoro, era preposto secondo la convinzione
populare, un grosso gatto (spirito della vegetazione) che puniva spietatamente gli
agrressori (Moretti 1967).125 And once again, there seems to be something going on off-

123
The same name that stands out in the country on Tuesday of Carnival 'marti perra' (perra = half)
brings us back the echo of another ancient belief: people personified Shrove Tuesday in [the form of] a cat
who attacked, dismembering right away, those who went to work in the fields abandoning the masquerade.
In other centers such as Ulassai (Nu) 'martis berri' (berri = pain) lavished rather sudden, as well as
violent, physical pain on those who recklessly attempted to work [rather than take part in Carnival], no
matter what kind of work it was. At the same time the pain was accompanied by a booming voice that said,
'I am Martis berri, I came to hit you'' (Moretti 1963).
124
"But let us pay attention to the procession as villagers recall who no longer very young. A herald, 'su
cuadderi' (= the horseman), astride a stick on top of which was stuck a horse skull, announced allusive
rhymes with the passage of the masks 'is maimulus'" (Moretti 1963).
125
"Throughout that entire day in the village there existed the obligation to refrain from any activity,
especially related to agriculture. According to popular belief, a large cat (the spirit of vegetation) was in
charge of the strict observance of this taboo against working and mercilessly punished the aggressors [those
who violated the norm]" (Moretti 1967).
 190

stage in terms of how this creaturethe personification of Carnivalcame to acquire its

cat-like features. Could these feline features derive from a name that sounded to speakers
like the meowing of a cat but that was at the same time was viewed by members of the
same community of speakers as the personification of Carnival and identified with the
effigy that they carried about? An otherwise opaque expression similar to Maramao
whose original meaning had been lost?
Finally, in her review of the croquemitaines that inhabited the Piedmont region,
Canobbio describes a number of horrific creatures, among them two that go by the names
of Maramaou and Marmu. They are spauracchio or mangiabambini, that is, night-
mares but seem not to have any association with cats.126 Then there is another night-
mare which does have a feline form, called the Gatta Marella. In her work Canobbio
(1998: 70-71, 80) suggests that the etymology of all these terms, that is, all these
expressions displaying the stem mar-, belong to a larger translingual semantic field to
which the second element of the English compound night-mare also belongs.127
While I am in basic agreement with her hypothesis, I would argue that at this stage the
Basque data, complemented by the Sardu linguistic and ethnographic data, allow us to
take further step backwards and move to an even deeper level of analysis. This approach
takes us back in time and opens up the possibility of recuperating the tenets of a much
earlier cosmology typical of hunters and gatherers, more concretely, speakers who held
that humans descended from bears. As noted at the beginning of this chapter, Bertolotti
(1992) argues that the ritual drama of Carnival revolves around the figure of the lorso
ucciso and therefore should be traced back to a much earlier European conceptual
template, one that would parallel in many ways the belief system undergirding Bear
Ceremonialism in other parts of the world, the intimate human-animal relations, the

126
Recognizing that the sounds m , b and p are often confused, we find in addition to the more
commonplace Babau / Barbau, the following names of the night-mare recorded in Occitania, all of which
appear to belong to the same translingual word field: Babarau, Baranhau, Maranhau, Marnha, Barnha,
Maragnhs, Baragnha, Paparnha; Piparaunha, Pataranhau, Babta and Ppu (Loddo and Pelen
1998: 83).
127
Canobbio explains that her theory is based on the following hypothesis: [] celle de lexistence dune
famille nombreuse et composite de croquemitaines, rpandus sur une zone trs vaste et diversifie du point
de vue ambiant et culturel, qui peuvent tous tre ramens une commune racine MAR-. Racine que nous
savons, par ailleurs, tre tonnament productive [] pour former des mots qui renvoient lide de
cauchemar , angoisse , fantme , sorcire , etc. [] partir de la Gatta Marella pimontaise
jusqu la Marabecca sicilienne, du Sattu Marruda de Sardeigne la Gatamora du Frioul [] qui
pourraient reprsenter une re-tymologisation de formes nes, justement, sur la base de MAR-
cauchemar , devenues par la suite compltement opaques (Canobbio 1998: 71). Cf. also Canobbio
(1996; 2006).
 191

veneration and respect for bears, and the animistic world view that characterizes the
worldview of many native peoples still today.

8.1 Maramao / Marameo, perch sei morto?

Apparently, over time in an effort to assign meaning to the name Maramao, speakers
developed a folk etymology, turning Maramao into a cat, that is, because the sounds
composing the name Maramao evoked, by analogy, the sounds made by a cat. Later, this
conceptual blend would gain a wide audience across Italy when what had by then
degenerated into a mere childrens song was popularized by the Trio Lescano, in 1939.
The popularity of their song further reinforced what had already become the semantic
convergence of two different meanings, on the one hand, an onomatopoeic expression
mimicking the meowing of a cat and, on the other, a carnival character called Maramao.
Thus, in composing their tune, the song-writers Mario Panzeri and Mario Consiglio took
advantage of what had survived as a carnival lament, a expression of mourning sung by
children that spoke of the death of a creatureor beingcalled Maramao (Bertolotti
1992: 106) The rhyme seems to have been recited on Shrove Tuesday, during the funeral
of Carnival, while the figure was being carried in its coffin to be burnt. The first stanza of
the song begins with the words: Maramao, perch sei morto? However, as it is sung
today the song continues and we discover Maramao being mourned by a group of love-
sick cats. At the end of each stanza, the syllables of the word Maramao are repeatedly
broken down in such a way that they comically represent the forlorn meowing of the
felines, as in the following examples.
Maramao perch sei morto?
pane e vin non ti mancava,
l'insalata era nell'orto,
e una casa avevi tu.
Maramao maramo
mao mao mao mao mao
Le micine innamorate
fanno ancor per te le fusa
ma la porta sempre chiusa
e tu non ritorni pi.
Maramao, Maramao,
fanno i mici in coro,
Maramao, maramao
mao mao mao mao mao.128

128
Maramao why did you die?
bread and wine you do not lack,
 192

In part as a result of the tremendous popularity of this tune, there is little question that
Maramao is imagined by many today exclusively as a kind of feline cartoon character.129
Maramao became a conceptual blend, taking on the characteristics of a cat, and yet at the
same time, because of the socio-political context of the song sung by the Trio Lescano, it
came to be identified with the anti-fascist movement of the time. In some contemporary
contexts the figure of Maramao seems to be applied generically to despots, a cognitive
process of meaning-making that perhaps draws on the judgment and condemnation of the
central figure of Carnival. As is well documented, all across Europe, Carnival was an
occasion in which the populace regularly held up a real person or entity to ridicule by
subtly (or not so subtly) conflating the act of judging and punishing the main character or
straw effigy with the flesh and blood human being or authority that was the real target of
their social critique and the object of their veiled threats of violence. Thus, the Carnival
period afforded the populace a means of expressing their disapproval structurally in a
way similar to the popular judgments dramatized when a charivari was acted out. In this
sense, Maramao could be viewed as a place-holder for the object of parodic derision by
the social collective, just as appears to have been in the case in 1939 and even earlier.130

the salad was in the garden,

and you possessed a house.
maramao maramo,
mao mao mao mao mao

The enamoured pussy cats

for you are still purring
but the door is always closed
and you do not come back.
Maramao, Maramao,
do cats in chorus,
Maramao, Maramao
mao mao mao mao mao.
129
For examples of popularity of the cat cartoon character, cf. videos such as the following ones:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_CILqs1Mbg&feature=related ;
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=78Qkd0JMQ9w&feature=related ;
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C5JlcJvT3gs&feature=related and
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GOkZrrpicw&feature=related.
130
In all fairness, we also need to mention what is perhaps one of the most popular theories concerning the
origin of the phrase Maramao, perch sei morto?, reproduced on the web site of the Ministero della
Difesa: Nel 1939 ebbe grande successo una canzonetta (di Panzeri e Consiglio) dal titolo apparentemente
innocentissimo: Maramao perch sei morto? I versi erano allegri e accattivanti: Pane e vin non ti mancava,
/ l'insalata era nell'orto. Ma non erano affatto originali. Pi o meno identici, erano contenuti in un sonetto
di Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli, scritto nella prima met dell'Ottocento. E Belli metteva Maramao in
relazione con il papa. Qualcun altro sostenne che il morto non fosse un gatto, ma lo spirito del Carnevale.
Ma l'ipotesi pi suggestiva che l'espressione fosse, all'origine, una parafrasi del pi noto Maramao, tu
uccidi un uomo morto. Maramaldo infatti veniva anche indicato con il nome di Maramao (o Maramaus,
come nella Storia di Guicciardini). La ferocia usata contro Ferrucci a Gavinana pare fosse da addebitare a
un precedente incontro fra i due sotto le mura di Volterra, dove Ferrucci fece uccidere un araldo del nemico
 193

If viewed from this perspective, Maramao would have been a double-voiced being,
generating a polyphonous symbolic discourse pointing several directions, simultaneously,
and filled with Bakhtinian heteroglossic innuendo (Bakhtin [1935] 1981; Danow 1984).
In order to comprehend the way that the word Maramao came to be associated with a
cat, more specifically, with the meowing sound made by a cat, we need to formulate a
hypothesis concerning the cognitive path that led speakers to bring about the convergence
of two quite distinctive meanings: one of which refers to a frightening otherworldly semi-
human-like being while the other refers to the sound characteristic of an innocuous
domesticated feline. The evidence suggests that this fusion or confusion is not recent; that
it took place many centuries ago. To do this, first let us assume that the term maramao
forms part of the larger and conceptually much more archaic morpho-semantic field
discussed previously which resonates strongly with archaic beliefs in an ursine
genealogy. Stated differently, we could consider that the term maramao is a phonological
variant of other terms found in other European languages and furthermore, that it can be
traced back to the etymon hamalau. Viewed from this perspective, the resulting
translingual morpho-semantic field becomes a repository containing substantial evidence
for past cultural practices and hence a means of establishing the evolutionary path taken
by the etymon over time and across different regions of Europe. Based on this
interpretive framework, in each region dialectal variants of the term and social practices
associated with it were developed and over time left their distinctive mark on the
semantic artifacts themselves and the distinctive performance art of each zone.
In the case of the Italy, the particular cognitive pathway taken by the semantic artifact
maramao led to a kind of phonological convergence that brought two conceptual frames
into contact with each other. On the one hand there were the onomatopoeic expressions

e poi lo dileggi chiamandolo Maramao. Quando mor, poco tempo dopo, ricco e con la possibilit di
soddisfare ogni desiderio, qualcuno avrebbe intonato per la prima volta quel ritornello. Avevi tutto, non ti
mancava nulla; Maramao, perch sei morto?.["In 1939 a song had great success (Panzeri and Consiglio)
with the apparently very innocent title: Maramao, why did you die? The verses were cheerful and engaging:
"Bread and wine you do not lack, /the salad was in the garden." But they were not original. More or less
identical verses were contained in a sonnet of Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli, written in the first half of the
nineteenth century. And Belli associated Maramao with the pope. Someone else claimed that the deceased
was not a cat, but rather the spirit of Carnival. But the more interesting hypothesis is that the expression
was, originally, a paraphrase of the famous "Maramao, you kill a dead man." In fact Maramaldo was also
referred to by the name of Maramao (or Maramaus, as in the Historia of Guicciardini). The ferocity used
against Ferrucci at Gavinana appears to have been motivated by a previous meeting between the two under
the walls of Volterra, where Ferrucci killed a herald of the enemy and then mocked him by calling him
Maramao. When he died shortly afterwards, rich and with the possibility of satisfying any desire, anyone
would have intoned for the first time the refrain. You had everything, you did not lack anything,
"Maramao, why did you die? "] Cf. http://www.carabinieri.it/Internet/Editoria/Carabiniere/2004/05-
Maggio/Storia/.
 194

associated with the meowing of a domestic feline and on the other there was a similar
sounding expression with an increasingly opaque meaning associated with it. That is, this
process of phonological and conceptual convergence was accompanied by the bleaching
of the semantic content and referentiality of the term maramao itself. Over time this
resulted in an expression that had two etymologically unrelated meanings.131 Maramao
was supposedly the sound made by a cat but at the same time we find it connected to the
character mourned on Shrove Tuesday of Carnival. Moreover, there is a semantic fusion
of two concepts: the Death of Carnival is made equivalent to the Death of Maramao.
Certainly, the tremendous popularity enjoyed by Panzeri and Consiglios composition
from 1939 onwards, acted as powerful mechanism for the diffusion of what has now
become an iconic cultural artifact in Italy. At the same time the song contributed to the
belief that Maramao was merely a cat, for it promoted a plot-line in which a bunch of
felines comically mourn the death of their beloved.
Before concluding this section, it is worthwhile examining in more detail the nature of
the hypothesis that has been put forward. Until now, investigators have assumed that
maramao has two meanings; that the word is polysemous. Simply put, polysemy is a term
referring to a word that has two or more related meanings. The various senses have a
central origin, that is, the various meanings making up the semantic network have
developed from the same source: they share the same etymology. Thus, the inner or
earlier meaning of the term allows one a better understanding of the outer or later senses
attributed to the expression. If a word is considered to be polysemic, then the next step is
to attempt to order its senses so that they can be viewed as representing points along the
evolutionary cognitive pathway that allowed the expression to develop over time (Frank
2008b, 2009b; Frank and Gontier 2010), for example, as Sainan and Masson attempted
to do
In contrast, there are words that have several meanings. However, the explanation for
their meanings lies not in a single etymology, not in a single etymon, but rather in the fact
that the meanings evolved from two different and distinct sources. Such words are
classed as homonyms: they sound the same but do not share the same origin. Thus, the
hypothesis put forward here is that maramao has two unrelated meanings, one meaning
being related to the sound made by a cat and the other meaning encompassing a creature
131
We find that something similar occurred in the case of the English term night-mare, as Caprini (1984)
clearly demonstrates in her detailed longitudinal study of the semantic trajectory of the English term. Once
the original meaning of the Germanic term mahr goblin, spectre, night-mare was lost in English, a folk
etymology emerged, based on an erroneous reading of -mare as if it referred to a female horse. In other
words, whereas originally there were two homonymic terms, eventually only the meaning of one of them
ended up being accessible to speakers of the language.
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or character related to Carnival. So we are talking about two words that are homonyms;
they sound the same but do not share the same etymology.
The conclusions, albeit tentative, that can be drawn from the data discussed above
could be summarized briefly as follows. At some point in the past the etymology of the
expression maramao became obscured. In an effort to assign meaning to the term
speakers attempted to link it to the sounds made by a cat, a logical step, although if the
etymology proposed here is correct, ultimately a misguided one. If we assume that the
feline etymology contributed to a reformulationa re-etymologizationof the Spirit of
Carnival, then the cognitive process itself should have left behind ethnographic and
linguistic residue, such that the developmental pathway leading to the fusion of the two
meanings can still be charted and the earlier cultural complex reconstructed at least to
some extent. An indication that this semantic fusion affected the nature of the main
character of Carnival is found in the case of one of the names attributed to Shrove
Tuesday and consequently to the creature ruled, so to speak, that day. 132 This example
also underscores the possibility that in this zone Maramao was once associated with
Shrove Tuesday, but with connotations far more in line with those of the frightful
supernatural beings discussed by Sainan.
In his work, published in 1905, Sainan lists a number of interjections that apparently
were in use at that time and which seem to incorporate maramao as an exhortation.
Clearly, by that stage it had become a frozen, relatively opaque expression but which
nonetheless suggests that earlier a being named Maramao was being invoked.
Interjections: Milan Marmao! (Maramao! Mamao!), Jamais! Propr. chat; Parme
maramo! Peste! Naples Marramao! (Sic. Marramau!), Jamais! Allons donce! [] Que
Dieu nous en preserve! (Sainan 1905: 71). In order to shed further light on the
discursive implications of the exclamations collected by Sainan I contacted the Italian
ethnomusicologist Giovanni Grosskopf and asked him to comment on them. He

132
The ethnomusicologist Giovanni Grosskopf (2011) has suggested that a study of the geographical
distribution of the last names Marramao and Maramao could give further clues concerning where the
traditions described here have been better preserved, using this online resource:
http://www.gens.labo.net/it/cognomi/. In the instance of Marramao it is a surname found today especially in
the regions Campania, Calabria and is present also in Liguria, Piedmont, but rare in Lombardy and Lazio.
The highest concentration is found in Calabria, from the town of Pizzo Calabro. However, there is no way
to know if the statistical distribution encountered today necessarily responds to the distribution of the
cognonom in times past. Indeed, when one looks at the much more wide-spread distribution of Marramao
in comparison to the highly concentrated distribution of Maramao, which is primarily in the area of Rome,
obviously the most densely populated zone, it is much harder to reach any definitive conclusion, other than
the fact that the surnames have survived. However, one might also ask how and why these two terms ended
up being patronymics. Did they start out as nick-names? Or did they refer to some special (spiritual) quality
that the individual displayed?
 196

responded, saying: This is interesting. The word Marameo is still used (at least here in
Milan, especially by aged people) as a merry exclamation of mockery, of teasing. It
means something like: You see, I managed to play a trick to you, and you can do nothing
about that, ha-ha. Usually it is accompanied by a hand gesture, known as fare
marameo, made by putting one's thumb on the tip of one's nose, and, at the same time,
wiggling all the other fingers of the same hand (one after the other) (Grosskopf 2011).
Grosskopf gives the following glosses of the expression. It may also convey meanings
such as: Forget it!" "Not in your life!" However, these glosses do not tell the whole
story.
At this stage we have the term Marameo contextualized by linguistic data and
complemented by a specific corporal gesture. The combination of the two elements
allows us to further explore the meaning of the phrase and elucidate the socio-cultural
situations and contexts which, in the past, could have evoked this response and, hence, to
speculate on the earlier social practices that might have given rise to it. In order to further
illustrate the meaning of the exclamations, Grosskopt provides several contextualized,
albeit invented, examples of when someone would employ the saying and the gesture
associated with it. The first example he gives is the following one: A local well-known
politician meets a group of people in a public square, expounding his views. But, as soon
as he turns away and is not looking, one person makes the gesture and says Marameo!,
meaning: You can forget having my vote! (Grosskopf 2011). In his second example
the underlying theme of trickery is more apparent: Two children are eating slices of
cake. Each one has his own slice. Suddenly, one child steals the other's piece of cake and
runs away. Give me back my cake slice!, shouts the other. But the first child, laughing,
says Yes sure Marameo! and runs away with his plunder. (Meaning: I'm smarter,
you're a fool, the next time be careful and watch your cake slice!). It seems to me that
one of the meanings of this exclamation is Yes, I know, I am behaving like a bad boy,
but, now, for once, I HAVE THE RIGHT to be a bad boy!" [emphasis in the original]
(Grosskopf 2011).
Another informant, the Italian linguist Marianna Bolognesi, recalls that in the mid-
1980s, as a child living in Milan, her grandmother (b. 1924) who was in her late 60s at
the time, would play with her saying Marameo and thumb her nose at her: When I
was young I remember my grandma playing with me saying marameo with her thumb
on her nose and her hand spread flat, and making a fanning motion with the fingers, and
then running away, so that I had to catch her. Then it was my turn to run after her saying
marameo (Bolognesi 2011). Curiously, the same quite distinctive gesture is well
known in other parts of Europe. For example, in English it has been converted into the
 197

idiomatic expression to thumb ones nose which refers to precisely the same non-verbal
act, but is understood figuratively as acting disrespectfully, especially by flouting the
object of disrespect. The significant difference is that in English the speaker who does the
action, does not complement it verbally by saying maramao.
In Basque there are similar expressions in which the name Hamalau appears. While
they are not accompanied by the hand gesture, as occurs in Italian, they are used to
criticize someone who is judged to be acting improperly, trying to get away with things,
and more specifically, attempting to impose his will or desires on others when he does
not have the rightpermission or authorityto do so. In such a situation, the following
comment would be typical: Who does he think he is, Hamalau? Such sayings should
not be interpreted as a criticism of Hamalau himself, but rather are best understood as
directed at the individual who tries to act like Hamalau, emulating the prerogatives once
ascribed to the latter (Frank 2008c: 72-76).
In summary, the specific type of discursive and gestural information attached to the
word maramao reflects its previous socio-cultural situatedness and at the same time
reaffirms Bakhtins observation about the force of tradition in language: [] the word
does not forget where it has been and can never wholly free itself from the dominion of
the contexts of which it has been part (Bakhtin 1973: 167). The invocation of the name
Maramao in the exclamations discussed here could well be a case in point. The
interjection is elicited as a reaction to a complex socially-situated scene that the speaker
participates in or otherwise comments upon. Grosskopf concludes his discussion of the
topic with a question: So would it be possible to connect this exclamation ("Marameo")
with a former Carnival custom? Maybe. We know the Carnival is traditionally a season
for playing tricks to people. Perhaps to say Marameo was a declaration that the trick
had been played in the name of the King of Carnival? (Grosskopf 2011). Keeping in
mind the ritually authorized transgression of social norms that reigns during the Carnival
period as well as the fact that violations and criticisms of authorities were not punished,
the mocking attitude communicated by these expressions along with the associated hand
gesture could harken back to much earlier but equally socially approved customs.
Certainly in times past Carnival was a time of revelry in which ordinary life, its rules and
regulations were temporarily suspended, reversed and virtually turned upside down.
Bakhtin stressed the multi-layered nature of language, which he called heteroglossia.
Words and expressions are nuanced with socio-ideological contradictions carried forward
from various periods and levels in the past. He emphasized that Language is not a
neutral medium that can be simply appropriated by a speaker, but something that comes
to us populated with the intentions of others. Every word tastes of the contexts in which it
 198

has lived its socially-charged life.(Holcombe 2007). This seems to be the case of
expressions involving Maramao: the word itself is multi-layered and its various meanings
are replete with the intentions of past speakers.
For those living in orality, there was no centralizing authority that set language norms,
determined how a word was to be pronounced, much less written down. Rather what
operated was a loose network of alliances, speakers with overlapping and shifting frames
of reference which were constantly being modifiedby chance, ignorance, personal
experience and conversations with others, particularly elders whose memory of events
and the meaning of words could help the younger generation better fix their meaning and
pronunciation. This situation undoubtedly gave rise to phonological variants as speakers
attempted to articulate an expression, such as Maramao, whose meaning was increasingly
opaque and whose proper pronunciation they could not quite capture.

8.2 Maramao and Carnival lamentations

Among the theories put forward to explain the etymology of the word maramao, the
theory with the most currency today is probably the one that derives the name from an
expression found in a lament, or more concretely from the phrase mara m'ajje, recorded
in lamentations in the dialect of the region Abruzzo, in Southern Italy: Molti canti
funebri, specialmente abruzzesi, cominciano con [linvocazione lamentosa] mara m o
marameo (Bracchi 2009: 181).133 This theory alleges that the dialectal variant mara m,
that is, amara me, understood as equivalent to trista me or you make me sad, was
misinterpreted by speakers and that the resulting phrase spread across central Italy where
it was eventually adopted as the first part of a Carnival lament (Toschi 1976: 319). Di
Nola has summarized this position:
Una versione registrata ad Amatrice da C. De Bernardinis rappresenta un tipo particolare che
contiene una prima parte iniziale con Mara m! Mara m! Picche si mortu?, ed elenca tutti i beni
materiali di cui il difunto marito poteva liberamente godere e cui ha insensatamente rinunziato; e
una seconda parte recitata dai parenti, nella quale si lamenta il morto ma si ricorda che egli ha
raggiuto i suoi antenati nel regno della luce [...]. Un secondo modello quello indicato come
lamento della vedova di Vasto [...]. Mare majje, scura majje amara me, oscura me, che
probabilmente sono la vera genesi del termine marameo utilizzato nei lagni dellItalia centrale.
[...] A questi fondamentali esempi bisogna aggiugere che nel territorio di Milano appariva un
canto infantile Marameo, perch sei morto e Marameo nel linguaggio infantile era un gatto
fiabesco134. (Di Nola 1995: 109)135
133
"Many funeral songs, especially from Abruzzo, begin with [the plaintive cry] mara m or marameo"
(Bracchi 2009: 181).
134
A version collected at Amatrice by C. De Bernardinis demonstrates a distinctive characteristic in that it
contains an initial first part beginning with Mara m! Mara m! Why did you die?, and lists all the tangible
goods that the deceased husband was free to enjoy and which he has foolishly given up, and a second part
 199

This interpretation of the etymology of the expression marameo is repeated in many

works. For example, Bracchi refers to it not as a theory, but as a proven fact. And we
have writings Paolo Toschi, dating back to the 1950s, who after citing the Abrruzzo
variant that begins Carnivale, pecch sei morte? (De Nino 1881: 200) and mentioning
that the quatrine in question has numerose varianti diffuso per tutta lItalia centrale
fino alla Romagna [...], reached the following very categorical conclusion about the
etymology of Maramao: In molti paesi ove il significato della parola maramao non viene
compreso, si dice anche marameo quasi come sberleffo di Carnevale, o genericamente a
qualcuno: ma non v dubbio che maramao o marameo, la parola iniziale dei canti
funebri dellItalia centrale e vuole dire amara me, povera me (Toschi 1976: 319).136 And
given the authority of Toschi as a researcher, it is not surprising that his theory has been
picked up and repeated by other investigators.
Bertolotti, in turn, cites the ditty Marameo, perch sei morto?, affirming that the
initial word Marameo fusione di un originario amara me, and was based on a widely
circulating lament dating back to antiquity (Bertolotti 1992: 106). However, at the same
time investigators also recognize that the song of lamentation invoking the name of
Maramao / Marameo and sung by children per la morte del carnevale imitava
curiosamente il compianto funebre: Carnevale, perch sei morto? / Pane e vino non ti
mancava. / Linsalata tenevi nellorto [...]. Il confluire da pi parti versi un unico nodo
denuncia intrecci operanti in tempi molto lunghi e ramificati fino alle latitudini pi
disparate (Bracchi 2009: 181).137

recited by relatives, in which the deceased is lamented, but it is rcalled that he has reached his ancestors in
the kingdom of light [...]. A second model is referred to as the lament of the widow of Vasto [...].Mare
majje, scura majje amara me, oscura me, which probably is the true genesis of the term marameo used in
the complaint of central Italy. [...] To these basic examples it should be added that in the territory of Milan
there was a childrens song 'Marameo, perch sei morto and that Marameo in the language used by
children was a fairy-tale cat (Di Nola 1987: 109).
135
With respect to this etymology, in his 1995 work Di Nola presents the theory less as a possibility and
more as a matter of fact: Daltra parte il lamento per la morte del Carnevale imitava quello comunemente
usato per il cordoglio normale (maramao o marameo, con significato di amara me) ["On the other hand,
the lament for the death of the Carnival mimicked the one that was commonly used for normal mourning
(maramao or marameo with the meaning of 'bitter me')"] (Di Nola 1995: 276). Di Nolas source is
Lupinetti (1955) who, in turn, is citing the work of De Bernardinis and Montanaro (1924). The song,
collected by Montanaro with the line Mra mjje, mra mjje, scura mjje can be heard here:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001OFOYAM/ref=dm_dp_trk45?ie=UTF8&qid=1303526818&sr=8
-3.
136
"In many villages where the meaning of the word maramao is not understood, marameo is also said
almost like a Carnival jest, or generically to anyone, but there is no doubt that maramao or marameo, is the
first word of the dirges of central Italy and means bitter [sad] me, poor me" (Toschi 1976: 319).
137
"For the death of the carnival curiously mimicked the late funeral complaint: 'Carnival, why have you
died? / Bread and wine you were not lacking. / The salad you had in the garden' [...]. The confluence from
 200

While Bertolotti appears to agree with Toschi that the expression maramao / marameo
in the childrens funeral lament comes from the phrase amara me, his discussion of the
significance of the funeral lament used at Carnival is more nuanced. He interprets the
variant in Carnavale, percc sc morto? as if it reflected deeper layers of meaning that
take us back to the propitiation of the orso ucciso. In his analysis, he brings into focus
symbolic convergences between three types of ritual lamentations: those expressions of
sorrow and grief intoned by Altaic hunters to gain forgiveness from the animal they have
killed, medieval laments addressed to the dead ass and the plaint addressed to Carnival
itself.
Anche a proposito del pianto che spesso i cacciatori levano sulle spoglie dellorso ucciso verrebbe
spontaneo parlare di ipocrisia o di contraddizione, se non fosse evidente che esso fa parte
integrante della commedia dellinnocenza, convalidando, per cos dire, la sinceret di quelle
dichiarzioni di discolpa cui si accompagna. Nonno, Nonna, / Perch sei morto(a)?, chiedevano
piangendo allorso i cacciatori altaici: la domanda che abbiamo gi incontrato nella lamentazione
medievale del contadino per lasino morto (Oim, perch sei morto, asino?), e che ricorre anche
nei pianti rituali per Carnevale (Carnivale, pecch sc morto? / Pane e vino non te mancava
ecc.), si rivela qui inequivocabilmente un tentativo di mistificazione rivolto a carpire la
benevolenza dellorso. (Bertolotti 1992: 140)138

Consequently, by taking Bertolottis interpretation one step futher, it would be quite

logical to assume that the slot filled by the name of bear in the case of the Altaic
lamentation, would be filled in the Italian versions by the old name of the bear figure
whose death is being mourned and whose forgiveness is being sought. Viewed in this
fashion, the position occupied by the word Carnivale in the song that begins
Carnivale, pecch sc morto? would have been filled previously by Maramao or one of
its phonological variants. Thus, the two versions become equivalent, one where Maramao
being addressed explicitly and another in which the abstraction Carnevale is addressed
instead. In both instances, as Bertolotti has intuited, we have a lament directed,
simultaneously, to the dead bear and to the main protagonist of Carnival itself. Moreover,
we might keep in mind that the animistic cosmology that underpins Bear Ceremonialism
and which is discussed at length by Bertolotti (1992), is one in which the mortuary rites

several parts into a single node reveals networks operating over a very long time period and branching at
the most diverse latitudes" (Bracchi 2009: 181).
138
Also in reference to the complaint that hunters are often make over the remains of the bear that they
have killed, naturally it would speak about hypocrisy or contradiction, were it not evident that it is an
integral part of the comedy of innocence, validating, so to speak, the sincerity of those declarations of
innocence that accompany it. "Grandfather, Grandmother, / Why are you dead?" The Altaic bear hunters
ask, weeping: the question we have already met in the medieval peasant's lament for the dead donkey
("Alas, why are you dead, donkey? "), and which also occurs in ritual [also costumary] plaints for
Carnival ("Carnivale, pecch sc morto? / Pane e vino non te mancava etc."), is revealed here clearly as an
attempt at deception intended to finagle the goodwill of the bear (Bertolotti 1992: 140).
 201

held for the bears, were done so in part to help them regenerate, but also as a means of
showing them respect and to prevent their retaliation against the living (Losey in prep.;
Sarmela 2006; Zachrisson and Iregren 1974).
In conclusion, the expression mare majje / mara m which begins the lamentations
recorded in Abruzzo may or may not have been based originally on amara me and may
or may not have given rise to a new lament beginning with the expression Maramao /
Marameo. The exact nature of the process is shrouded in the mists of time. What we can
say with some degree of certainty is that these Abruzzian formulaic plaints must have
played some role in lending legitimacy to the expression Maramao / Marameo perch
sei morto and to its adoption as a funeral lamentation intoned during Carnival in honor
of the main character of that event.

8.3 Maramao as a healer: the Quack Doctor

Until now we have not seen the figure of Maramao portrayed explicitly as a healer.
Instead, references to this aspect of his supernatural powers have been indirect, e.g. the
invocation of his name in certain circumstances as well as the possibility that he might be
identified with the Bear Leader who resurrects the Bear. In this section an additional
piece of socioculturally situated linguistic evidence will be brought forward, one that
supports the hypothesis that Maramao should be identified structurally not only with the
central figure of Carnival, but also with the shaman-healer in charge of resurrecting the
bear character. In this instance, Maramao will be represented in the form of a Quack
Doctor, concretely in the guise of a lesser known character from the Commedia dellArte,
whose first recorded appearance on stage is connected to southern Italy, probably
Naples.139 To my knowledge, until now the name of this character has not attracted a
great deal of attention from researchers who have investigated the etymology of
Maramao. A 1622 etching by Jacques Callot (1592-1635) has immortalized this
performer.

For instance Donald Posner in his highly respected investigation of Callots prints does not discuss
139

Maramao. Rather he states that Callot's prints do not convey, and evidently were not intended to convey,
much useful information about Commedia dell'arte characters. Furthermore, [] one must even doubt
whether all the names inscribed under the figures have historical validity (Posner 1977: 204).
 202

Fig. 4. Capt. Cardoni and Maramao. An etching by Jacques Callot. Source: http://sged.bm-
lyon.fr/Edip.BML/PubliImg/images/ESTA/00/00/09/61/GED_00000000.JPG.Maramao, fully dressed,
wears a typical half-mask with a false nose. He is captured by Callot just as he is about to
plunge the syringe into the anus of Captain Cardoni. The instrument identifies him as a
Quack Doctor whose apparent comic intent is to administer an enema to the other man
who is essentially nude, sporting a mask with a long ugly nose and holding a feathered
hat in one hand. He wears a holster, hanging from one shoulder, and some sort of string
contraption around his waist, perhaps meant to hold a dagger. He has his right hand
extended behind him as if he were either helping Maramao insert the chalumeau into his
butt cheeks or perhaps trying to prevent him from doing so. It is not clear from the
illustration exactly what kind of liquid is spewing out of the syringe. In short, it is evident
that Maramao is playing the role of a Quack Doctor and the other is his patient. So the
question is where did this character come from? Why is his name Marmamo?
Furthermore, if Maramao were viewed here as the counterpart of the shaman-healer or
Quack Doctor who resurrects the bear, would this make the Capitan somehow the
surrogate of the bear character? In other words, should we imagine that in much earlier
renditions of the scene the character who is on the receiving end was recognized as the
counterpart of the Bear? Or is Maramaos use of the anal penetrating instrument merely
fortuitous? Only a way to identify Maramao as a Quack Doctor but without any archaic
allusion to the earlier ursine identity of Captain Cardoni?
 203

Fig. 5. Cap. Babeo and Cucuba An etching by Jacques Callot. Source: http://sged.bm-
lyon.fr/Edip.BML/PubliImg/images/ESTA/00/00/09/57/GED_00000000.JPG.

In another etching of what appears to be the same scene, the figure of Maramao shows
up as Captain Babeo while Captain Cardoni becomes Cucurucu. Whether there is a
relationship between the name Babeo and the entity known as Babau is unclear.
Assuming Captain Babeo is the counterpart of Maramao, the latter is no longer portrayed
holding a syringe in his hand. However, in the background we see the iconic charivaric
figure of lasino with it backwards-seated rider, being pursued by another character with
a set of bellows in his hands, as if the instrument Captain Babeo / Maramao holds in his
hand, rather phallically, is being commented upon visually by the action in the
backgrounded image.140 However it is interpreted, the scene leaves little doubt that
Captain Cardoni / Cucurucu is the victim. In summary, whatever symbolism was once
associated with this scene, whatever its relationship to Good-Luck Visit performances
and to the itinerant troupes of performers and popular street theater antedating the
Commedia dellArte, the scenes structure parallels in many respects elements found in
the scene of the Death and Resurrection of the Bear, and these structural parallels are
even more suggestive if the other ethnographic and linguistic data discussed in this study
are kept in mind.

140
Cf. Bertolotti (1992: 98-112) for further discussion of the charivaric aspects of Carnival and
comparisons relating to laments for the dead ass and the bear.
 204

9.0 Reframing the plot

In his remarkable investigation of Carnival Bertolotti brings to bear a wealth of

information concerning Bear Ceremonialism among hunting and gathering peoples in
support of his thesis that the central figure of Carnival was originally a bear; that the
cognitive template for understanding European Carnival requires one to move back in
time, to a different plane and acquire a non-dualistic interpretative framework more in
consonance with the cosmovision of native peoples where the animal-human divide is no
longer present. More succinctly put, Bertolotti argues for the conflation of the abstract
notion of Carnival with the Bear. Thus, when mourning the Death of Carnival, the lament
was directed in times past to the Bear, as a way of honoring the being who had been
hunted and killed and thus had given its life to succor those who would feast on its flesh
and blood. And in return the hunters would hold a celebration in the animals honor to
which the animal itself was invited.
As Bertolotti describes the evolution of la morte di Carnevale, the latter entity, that is,
Carnevale itself, has come to be viewed as an abstraction. He argues that as one strips
away the intervening layers and moves back in time, what is revealed in a hunting ritual,
a celebration centered on honoring and finally propitiating the soul of the bear that has
been killed in order to guarantee the well-being of the social collective and Nature itself.
He views the process as having gone through three stages. Starting with the most recent
layer in which Carnevale is understood, in general, as an abstract concept: 1) Una
cerimonia correspondente nella struttura generale oltre che nei dettagli a quella morte di
Carnevale, ma che comincia una battuta di caccia come i riti venatori dellorso; il
protagonista [] un personaggio umano come Carnevale; 2) un gruppo di cerimonie
anolaghe [] in cui il protagonista un personaggio umano che vive tuttavia nelle selve,
lUomo selvatico; 3) un gruppo di cerimonie analoghe a quelle dellUomo selvatico, in
cui il protagonista un animale, e precisamente un orso (Bertolotti 1992: 173).141
Bertolottis stripping away of the interpretive layers is remarkably insightful.
However, it does not take into account how the belief in an ursine genealogy could act to
readjust the lens we employ to understand the performance art under study. Keeping in

141
"1) A ceremony corresponding in its overall structure as well as in its details to the death of Carnival,
but which begins with a hunting expedition [battuta di caccia = hunting] like the hunting [or venatorial]
rituals of bear hunters, the main character [...] is a human character as Carnival is, 2) a group of analogous
ceremonies [...] in which the protagonist is a human being who anyhow [or nevertheless] lives in the
woods, the Wild Man, 3) a group of ceremonies similar to those of the Wild Man, in which the hero is an
animal, namely a bear(Bertolotti, 1992: 173).
 205

mind the double-nature of Hamalau himself, his role as an intermediary between the
world of humans and bears, we can see that his appearance as Bear Leader shaman-healer
would form only one half of the equation, his human half, while his other half would be
symbolized by the bear itself. Indeed, there is reason to believe that we should
conceptualize Hamalau as incarnate in both natures. As a shaman, he simultaneously
personifies the Bear Leader and the Bear. In the form of the latter, he carries away the
illness, disease and bad luck of the social collective or households who receive the Good-
Luck Visits. And in the guise of the former, among other things, he brings the dead back
to life.
In order to comprehend the cosmology that undergirds the fused nature of Hamalau,
we need to turn back to our earlier discussion of animism, recognizing the fact that the set
of cultural understandings upon which the drama is grounded is an unfamiliar one, quite
alien to Western thought with its deeply engrained dualisms separating humans from
animals, and Nature from Culture (Frank 2005; Hallowell 1963; Willerslev 2007).
Hallowell (1966), for example, describes a world in which agency was potentially found
in any number of objects and phenomena, and one in which personhood was not limited
to humans. Bears and other animals were clearly among these other-than-human
persons, and in Hallowells account were ontologically equivalent to humans, having
souls and social relations (Losey in prep.). Hallowell concludes that animism projects a
cosmology in which, man and animals instead of being separate categories of being are
deeply rooted in a world of nature that is unified (Hallowell 1960). Indeed, it is difficult
for us to appreciate the profound implications of a cosmology that is rooted in the non-
anthropocentric belief that humans descended from bears and in which shape-shifting
would have been viewed as normal, grounded in the associated yet equally unfamiliar
animistic belief that outward appearance is only an incidental attribute of being.
The cultural conceptualizations discussed so far this investigation have had conceptual
existence as well as linguistic encoding. In this sense, language becomes a central aspect
of cultural cognition in that it serves as a collective memory bank (Frank 2003, 2005;
wa Thiong'o 1986) for cultural conceptualizations, past and present. Cultural
conceptualizations that prevailed at different stages in the history of a speech community
can leave recognizable traces in the linguistic practice and non-verbal behaviors of the
group (Sharifian 2008, 2009). In this sense we can argue that language can be viewed as
one of the primary mechanisms for storing and communicating cultural
conceptualizations. It acts as both a memory bank and a fluid vehicle for the
retransmission of these socioculturally embodied cultural conceptualizations, particularly
when the latter are linked to ethnographically identifiable practices which in turn are
 206

invested with value as symbols of group identity and consequently characterized by their
status as cultural icons, a situation that tends to make them more resistant to change.
Yet cultural cognitions are dynamic in that they are constantly being negotiated and
renegotiated from one generation to the next and passed on in a slightly modified form to
the other members of the cultural group. Throughout this process the cultural
conceptualizations are slowly being reshaped and updated, so to speak, to bring them
more into harmony with the emergent societal norms. As part of this process,
understandings that once were part of the interpretative grid of the collective can become
eroded, partially forgotten or disappear entirely, e.g., the belief that humans descended
from bears, that an animal needs to be asked for forgiveness by the hunter or that humans
and animals are equals, in short, understandings that were once commonplace and
integral to a complex animistic cosmology. In summary, the cognitive phenomena
discussed in this study might be viewed as reflecting as well as embodying characteristics
of historically bound sociocultural relations while the linguistic data along with the
ethnographic materials themselves become a means of reconstituting these preterit
relations and reconstructing the cognitive phenomena that informed them (Lucy 1987;
Vygotsky 1978).

9.0 Conclusions
This investigation began with an analysis of the evidence for the embeddedness of the
social practices relating to the seventh-son or daughter in Basque-speaking zone and
across much of Europe. Then we continued following along this same evidential path.
When we did so, the converging paths of evidence, most especially the semantic data, led
us to conclude that the cultural complex in question formed a single highly reticulated
network. There was a type of tripartite linkage connecting together the components: the
status conferred by being the seventh born son or daughter gave rise to a human with
supernatural powers, e.g. second sight and healing abilities, who was viewed as a
healer and then there was the fact that such an individual was also portrayed as a
night-mare. Moreover, in other parts of Europe other linguistic and ethnographic clues
can be detected which reinforce this interpretation and which seem to fit together to form
what is a much larger translingual cultural matrix. These clues seem to be deeply
entrenched in a similar psycho-social framework, one that gives rise to shared beliefs and
social practices that are grounded in an animistic cosmology.
Next, when all the linguistic and ethnographic datasets were compared and contrasted
they provided us with a basis for zeroing in on the original name of the healer in question.
 207

Although the British materials relating to the Quack Doctor did not offer any linguistic
clues concerning the older name of the character, the French, Italian and Sardu linguistic
materials certainly did.142 And names such as marcou and maramao, along with other
cognates, when examined alongside the ample documentation of the miraculous qualities
attributed to the seventh-born led us to the conclusion that there are several strands of
archaic belief embedded in the performances where Bear Leaders and Quack Doctors
make their appearance.
Then, attached to this traditional belief we found substantial linguistic evidence which
indicated that at some point in time the expression hamalau and/or one of its
phonological variants was the term used to refer with such healers. Furthermore, that
linguistic evidence when combined with the ethnographic data and cultural
conceptualizations linked to this figure allowed for a tentative mapping of the
geographical diffusion of the belief system across Europe.
The evidence now available, both linguistic and ethnographic, suggests that the figure
of Maramao should be identified with the same cultural matrix: the same highly
networked set of beliefs that lead us back to the figure of a shaman-healer whose
supernatural powers were exteriorized in one of the central scenes of the performances
that took place in conjunction with the Good-Luck Visits. As noted earlier, whereas
previously Good-Luck Visits appear to have taken place whenever there was a need
perceived that would require the performance of a cleansing ritual at a given location, the
Good-Luck Visits were also performed during specific ritually-sanctioned periods, most
particularly during Carnival (Frank 2008a, c, 2009a). Today dates for the performances
vary from country to country and region to region with Candlemas Bear Day (Feb. 2) and
the Monday before Shrove Tuesday (Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras) or even Shrove
Tuesday itself being among the favorites.
Indeed, the example of Maramao represents one of the most significant pieces of
evidence identified so far in support of the theory that the figure of Hamalau Fourteen
was incarnate in the shaman-healer who brought the bear character back to life.
Moreover, the fact that in Italian the origin of the name of this carnival character can be
derived with such ease from the much earlier etymon is quite remarkable. The
developmental pathway is quite clear, as long as one assumes that at some stage an
exchange of liquids took place: hamalau > *mamalau > *mamarrao > marramao as well

142
Although outside the scope of this paper, a Google search reveals a significant number of people with
the surname of Marcou.
 208

as the more canonical Italian spelling of maramao. The exchange of liquids /m/ and /rr/
produces the needed change for mamarrao marramao.143
Moreover, the ethnographic data is equally revealing. In Callots rendition of the
character, we find Maramao taking part in a scene that appears to correspond closely to
the traditional one found, not only in performances associated with Good-Luck Visits, but
also in the Carnival performances themselves, as is well documented in various parts of
Europe. For instance in his study of European Carnival with particular emphasis on Italy,
Bertolottiwho is well aware of the central importance of the bearrecounts this scene
from the Carnival in the Balkans:
Il personaggio principale, chiamato per lo pi Kuker, indossava un vestito e un alto copricapo
de pelliccia ( un esemplare del tipo del peloso), aveva il viso annerito con fuliggine e portava dei
campanelli appesi alla cintura e un fallo o un bastone in mano. [...] insieme a numerose altre
maschere (tra cui spesso anche quella dellorso), formavano un corteo e facevano una questua. La
mascherate principale era quella delluccisione del Kuker. [...] La Baba [la Vecchia], talvolta
insieme a tutti gli altri personaggi, luccisore compreso, piangeva sul suo cadavere. Ma spesso
interveniva poi un medico che lo faceva risusitare. (Bertolotti 1992: 87)144

While these observations still leave us with a number of unanswered questions, if we

combine the linguistic and ethnographic data, the figure of Maramao takes on increased
importance. In the Basque materials, it is clear that Hamalau is the half-human, half-bear
shaman apprentice whose adventures are narrated in the folktales. Furthermore, it is
relatively obvious that in this capacity he acts as the intermediary between two worlds. At
the same time, as detailed previously, when analyzing the performance art associated
with the same cultural complex, that is, the Good-Luck Visits, a key scene in the healing
rituals involves a shaman-healer, portrayed later as a Quack Doctor, who resurrects the
Bear. In the more archaic versions of the play, this is the same character who functions as
the Bear Leader in charge of taking the bear from place to place and making sure it
performed the healing ritual properly.
In summary, there is an aspect to the Italian and Sardu data that facilitates the
unraveling of the hermeneutics surrounding the main character: the fact that Maramao

143
For additional commentary on the relationship of meanings associated with the Basque expression
marramao and similar Aragonese expressions, cf. Nebot Calpe (1983: 66). It should be noted that the
Basque term marramao appears to be nothing more than a semantically narrowed phonological variant of
mamarro which in turn is derived from hamalau.
144
The main character, called mainly Kuker, wearing a garment and a tall hat made of fur (it is an example
of the type known as hairy ones[ peloso is singular]), had his face blackened with soot and wore little
bells hanging from his belt and a phallus or a stick in his hand . [...] Along with numerous other masks
(often including also the bear), they formed a procession and went about begging. The main masquerade
was the killing of Kuker. [...] The Baba [Old Woman], sometimes together with all the other characters,
including the killer, wept over his corpse. But then often a doctor intervened who revived him (Bertolotti,
1992: 87).
 209

seems to be identified with the figure of Carnival who carries off the negative influences
and therefore acts to protect the social collective from evil, so to speak. In some
instances, the cleansing effect is achieved by burning a straw figure, a fantoccio di
paglia. Viewed from this perspective, the dual-nature of Hamalau is expressed in the
following way: he is a being endowed with the power to reanimate the Bear and at the
same time, because of his own ursine nature he is equated with the character representing
the animal itself whose death and resurrection we witness. Hermeneutically, the linguistic
and ethnographic materials relating to Maramao allow us to contemplate the quite
remarkable possibility that the old name of the central figure of Carnival was Maramao
(Hamalau) as well as the possibility that the Mamuthones and other Bear Leaders who
interact with the Bear should also be identified with Maramao (Hamalau) in their role of
shaman-healers. In short, the Italian and Sardu materials have opened a window on the
past. And in doing so, they have allowed us to formulate a series of hypotheses about the
nature of this much earlier animistic cosmology which appears to have left a deep imprint
on the ritual performances that continue to be celebrated into the 21st century.

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