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MA ritgerð

Norræn trú

Theophoric Place A Comparative Study of Sacral Place Names in the German- Speaking World

Tara-Kim Kritsch

Leiðbeinandi: Terry Adrian Gunnell Október 2019

Theophoric Place Names A Comparative Study of Sacral Place Names in the German-Speaking World

Tara-Kim Kritsch

Lokaverkefni til MA–gráðu í Norrænni trú Leiðbeinandi: Terry Adrian Gunnell

Félags- og mannvísindadeilid Félagsvísindasvið Háskóla Íslands Október 2019

Theophoric Place Names: A Comparative Study of Sacral Place Names in the German-Speaking World.

Ritgerð þessi er lokaverkefni til MA-gráðu í Norrænni trú og er óheimilt að afrita ritgerðina á nokkurn hátt nema með leyfi rétthafa. © Tara-Kim Kritsch, 2019

Prentun: Háskólaprent Reykjavík, Ísland, 2019

Útdráttur

Hugtakið örnefni hefur á sér ákveðinn óvissublæ. Í gegnum mannkynsöguna hefur ýmsum spurningum um merkingu þeirra og sögu verið velt fram. Í þessari ritgerð verða teóforísk örnefni, örnefni dregin af nöfnum guða, á þýskumælandi svæðum rannsökuð. Það viðfangsefni hefur fengið tiltölulega litla athygli á seinustu árum. Rætur örnefnanna eru frá tíma áður en bókmenntaskráningar hófust, og hefur upprunni þeirra því borist frá munnlegum heimildum. Örnefni hafa því sýnt sig að vera mikilvægar heimildir um forna menningalega uppbyggingu, sérlega þau nöfn sem eiga sögu að rekja í goðsagnir eða trúarbrögð, en þau eru birtingarmyndir trúarlegra hugtaka innan landsvæðisins. Eftir stutta yfirferð um þá aðferðafræði sem hefur verið notuð til að greina slík örnefni undanfarin ár byrjar ritgerðin á því að útlista hvernig þetta fræðisvið hefur þróast, bæði á Norðurlöndum og germönskum löndum, síðustu aldir. Fjallað er svo um menningarlegan og sögulegan bakgrunn Þýskalands á járnöld og snemma á miðöldum, og í framhaldi gerð gagnrýnin athugun á forsögulegum heimildum og etymologískum bakgrunni á meintum teóforísku örnefnum á Þyskalandi. Örnefnin eru þar á eftir borin saman við svipuð örnefni með líkan uppruna og menningarlegan bakgrunn í Skandinavíu, Englandi og Hollandi. Farið er einnig yfir staðbundnar fornleifarannsóknir til að veita heildarskilning á menningarlegu samhengi og félagslegum tengslum þeirra. Að lokum eru ályktanir dregnar um mögulega áreiðanleika þeirra. Þessi ritgerð er þannig að reyna að rannsaka, á gagnrýnin hátt, örnefnagögn í forkristnu germönsku landslagi með hliðsjón af landfræðilegu, staðfræðilegu og sögulegu samhengi og ekki síst, með hliðsjón af því, hvers vegna gögnin gætu verið takmarkaðri að eðlisfari en þau sem finnast í Skandinavíu.

Abstract

There is an air of mystery that surrounds the concept of place names. Questions revolving around their historical background and meaning have naturally been raised by mankind over time. This thesis contains a study of theophoric place names in the German-speaking area, a subject which has received comparatively little attention in recent years. Due to their high age and origin in a period of oral history before the onset of literary records, place names have been shown to serve as important contemporary sources for early cultural developments, and not least those that seem to have a background in myth and/or religion as manifestations of religious concepts within the landscape. Following a brief outline of the methodologies that have been established for analysing such place names in recent years, the thesis starts by outlining how this field of study has developed in the Nordic and Germanic countries over the last centuries. It goes on to consider the cultural and historical background of during the Age and early medieval period, before conducting a critical examination of the early written sources and etymological background of each of the alleged theophoric place names in Germany. These are then compared to similar place names that derive from a similar cultural background in , England and Holland. Local archaeological evidence is also considered in to provide an overall understanding of their cultural context and their social relationships. In each case an attempt is made to draw conclusions about their potential authenticity. In short, this study will attempt to provide a critical examination of the place evidence in the pre-Christian Germanic landscape considering the geographical, topographical and historical context of these names, and not least why the evidence might be more limited in nature than that found in Scandinavia.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, I want to thank my advisor, Terry Gunnell, not least for throwing me in the deep end and expanding my horizons, but also for pushing me beyond what I thought possible in order to produce my best work. I am incredibly grateful for your constant support and patience throughout this process. Thank you for believing in me, even when I did not believe in myself. I want to also extend my thanks to for providing fantastic counsel and assistance when I needed it most. The academic and emotional support provided by Terry and Rudolf over the past few years cannot be overstated, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. To Stefan Brink, Jürgen Udolph, and Claudia Boshouwers, thank you for contributing your thoughts and ideas about this study as well as providing vital source material. Your continued support and interest in this project made all the difference. A special thank goes out to my students, Caroline and Lauren. Spending time together in Iceland enriched my life and I will forever be grateful for your friendship and support. Many thanks to my friend Eleonora, who took the time to read over my thesis and give advice when I felt lost. There is also a special place in my heart for my dear friends in Austria who continue to have my back and always brighten up my life. To Bernhard, thank you for always being solid as a rock. You are the most important constant in my life, and I know that without your support, this thesis would not be finished. Thank you for believing in me every day, and know, that without you, my life would be much darker. To my Mother and Father, thank you for always supporting my wild dreams and unusual life choices. You are the best parents I could ever wish for and I am grateful to be your daughter. To both my and my partner’s, I want to thank you for always being there for me. To my grandparents, thank you for sharing your wisdom, especially at the beginning of this project. Your advice and mental support proved to be invaluable. I will forever love you all. Finally, I want to thank my grandmother, Marín, whose Icelandic roots truly inspired this journey. You will forever be missed. – This project is dedicated to you.

Contents

1 Introduction ...... 1 1.1 The Importance and Role of the Name ...... 1 1.2 Methodology ...... 4 2 Sources Used in Pre-Christian Religious Studies ...... 7 2.1 Non-Linguistic Sources on Pre-Christian Nordic and Germanic Religion ...... 7 2.2 The Study of Theophoric Place Names as Sources on Old Germanic Religion ...... 7 2.2.1 Place Names as a Historical Source ...... 9 2.2.2 Source Criticism in the Field of Place-Name Studies ...... 9 2.2.3 Strengths and Weaknesses of Place Names Studies ...... 10 2.2.4 Dating Place Names ...... 14 3 The Origins of Place-Name Studies in ...... 17 3.0 Introduction ...... 17 3.1 The History of Place-Name Studies in Scandinavia ...... 19 3.1.1 Norway ...... 20 3.1.2 Sweden ...... 22 3.1.3 ...... 24 3.1.4 Iceland ...... 26 3.2 Key Theories Relating to the Study of Theophoric Place Names in the North ...... 27 3.2.1 Magnus Olsen as Pioneer of Scandinavian ...... 27 3.2.2 Olaf Olsen’s Criticism of Magnus Olsen’s Work ...... 29 3.3 Theophoric Place Name Studies Today: Leading Nordic Scholars ...... 30 3.3.0 Introduction ...... 30 3.3.1 Stefan Brink ...... 31 3.3.2 Per Vikstrand ...... 33 3.4 The History of Theophoric Place-Name Studies in the German-Speaking Area ...... 35 3.5 Other Relevant Toponymic Studies in Europe ...... 39 4 Historical Context: The Christianisation of Continental Europe and Scandinavia ...... 41 4.1 Europe before Christianity: The and the Germanic Tribes ...... 41 4.2 The : The and Move to Britain ...... 49 4.3 The Process of Christianisation in Central Europe ...... 57 4.4 the “Saxon Slayer” and “Father of Europe” ...... 64

4.5 The Christianisation of Scandinavia ...... 69 4.6 Conclusion: Christianisation and Place Names ...... 74 5 Sacral Place Names in the German-Speaking area ...... 79 5.0 Introduction ...... 79 5.1 The Primary Elements of Theophoric place names ...... 80 5.1.0 Introduction ...... 80 5.1.1 The Names of Deities Found in Germanic Place Names ...... 81 5.1.2 Other Potential Determinative Elements ...... 92 5.2 Secondary Elements ...... 93 5.2.0 Introduction ...... 93 5.2.1 Elements Referring to Natural Features ...... 95 5.2.2 Elements Referring to Man-Made Features ...... 104 5.3 Wodan in German Place Names ...... 112 5.3.0 Introduction ...... 112 5.3.1 Utzberg () ...... 113 5.3.2 (Bad) Godesberg (North -) ...... 120 5.3.3 Gudensberg () ...... 128 5.3.4 Guthmannshausen (Thuringia) ...... 133 5.3.5 Gutenswegen (Saxony-Anhalt) ...... 136 5.3.6 Place Names Containing Oden-/- ...... 142 5.4 Týr in German Place Names ...... 145 5.4.0 Introduction ...... 145 5.4.1 Ciesburg ( - ) ...... 147 5.4.2 Other Place Names Potentially Containing the god Zio/Týr ...... 154 5.5 Donar in German Place Names ...... 155 5.5.0 Introduction ...... 155 5.5.1 Donnersberg (Worms, Rhineland-Palatinate) ...... 158 5.5.2 Donnersberg (Wormeln, North Rhine-Westphalia) ...... 162 5.5.3 Donnsberg (Bavaria) ...... 165 5.5.4 Other Place Names Potentially Containing the Name of the God Donar ...... 166 5.6 Balder in German Place Names ...... 169 6 Conclusion ...... 173

7 Sources ...... 181 7.1 Primary Sources ...... 181 7.2 Secondary Sources ...... 187 7.3 Digital Sources (accessed 03.09.2019): ...... 219

Table of Figures

Figure 1: The Roman Empire at its Greatest Expanse ...... 42 Figure 2: Germanic Cultural Groups During the Pre-Roman ...... 45 Figure 3: The distribution of Celtic and Germanic Tribes to the Migration Period ...... 47 Figure 4: Visual Representation of the Migration of Germanic tribes to Britain ...... 52 Figure 5: The Franconian Empire at the time of Charlemagne...... 68 Figure 6: of the Nordendorf I ...... 82 Figure 7: Distribution of Sacral Place Names Containing the God Óðinn in Scandinavia ...... 112 Figure 8: Wuodenesberg in a Document from 1170 ...... 119 Figure 9: The Varying Sanctuaries at Oberdorla ...... 131 Figure 10: uodenesuege in the Gesta Saxonum of Thietmar of Merseburg ...... 137 Figure 11: Europe around the middle of the 6th century ...... 141 Figure 12: The Distribution of Sacral Place Names Containing the God Týr in Scandinavia .. 146 Figure 13: The Distribution of Sacral Place Names Containing Þórr in Scandinavia ...... 156 Figure 14: Map of Theophoric Place Names in Germany ...... 173

«Consuetudinis magna vis est» Srefan Brink 2001 quoted after Cicero (106 BC - 43 BC).

1 Introduction

1.1 The Importance and Role of the Name Names are everywhere. They surround us in great numbers. People create names for countries, places, mountains, waters and other natural features, objects and living beings of all kinds. They serve as orientation, identification. They replace descriptions for independently titled objects and take on individualising functions in their form of “proper” names (cf. Latin nomina propria > nomen ‘Name, term, word’ and proprius ‘individual’). In contrast to objects and creatures existing without names, humans cannot get along without them (Debus 2012, 11). The act of naming itself can be of particular importance to people around the world, as extraordinary arranged naming ceremonies of humans and ships make clear. The naming of people and their surroundings represents a basic human need and today, embedded in the field of toponymy, has been subject to a wide range of academic studies. Zehnder describes the act of naming in the following way:

Seit Urzeiten benennt der Mensch seinen Lebensraum und macht sich so seine Umgebung nennbar und damit auch denkbar, überschaubar. Ein Name schafft eine Beziehung zwischen dem Menschen und seiner (vorher a-n-onymen) Umwelt. Ein Name hilft dem Menschen, den Raum zu verinnerlichen, Heimat zu schaffen (Zehnder 1991, 533).

(Since prehistoric times, humans have named their habitat and thereby making their environment nameable and with it imaginable, manageable. A name creates a relationship between people and their (previously anonymous) surrounding. A name helps the person internalise space, establish a home.1)

As Debus has noted, the intentions behind the giving of a proper name defined by the motivation of naming (the primary motivation of a name), can soon devolve to its communicative quality (the secondary motivation). This communicative quality can simply serve as a reason of orientation but it can be nourished with additional characteristics or even emotional content depending on the extent of knowledge people have concerning the designated location (Debus 2012, 13). Debus instances this as follows:

1 Unless otherwise stated, all translations are my own. 1 Wer in Köln geboren ist und seitdem in dieser Stadt lebt, für den ist der Name Köln mit einem facettenreichen Inhalt angefüllt, auch wenn er die ursprüngliche Bedeutung des Namens (< lateinisch colonia ‘Ansiedlung, Kolonie’) nicht kennt. Dagegen kann einem Fremden dieser Name nichts weiter besagen, als dass er für eine Stadt am Rhein steht [...]. Die bloße Kenntnis des Namens genügt zur identifizierenden Anrede. (Debus 2012, 13).

(Whoever was born in Cologne and has been living in this city ever since, to whom the name Cologne is filled with multifaceted contents even if the person does not know the original meaning of the name (< Latin colonia ‘settlement, colony’). In contrast, this name cannot tell a stranger anything else beside standing for a city on the Rhine [...]. The mere knowledge of the name is enough for an identifying appellation.)

Presuming the important role of early myths, legends and beliefs and their effect on the naming-process of land, leading to their continuing use as place names, Brink declares:

A new land is also in a way domesticated by producing metaphysical explanations of features in the landscape, for example, mythic, creational stories2 [...] which may end up in some myths. Some of these may even produce place names attached to the physical object [...] (Brink 2001, 81).

Landscapes can thus become part of history and a form of lieux de mémoire3 (see Nora 1989, 7-24) to the inhabitant, and as Brink notes: “as long as the place names are remembered, they preserve the myths. When the place names are forgotten, the myths may also fall into oblivion [...]” (Brink 2001, 80). To people of a pre-Christian era, living in religious engagement with natural features within the landscapes, meant that these landscapes, like churches or mosques in our world, often were seen as being metaphysical impregnated. These

2 As example of creational stories, Brink mentions those legends telling of how a giant threw a huge rock or cut a mountain in two, making a valley and so on. 3 The term lieux de mémoire ‘place of memory’ was shaped by the French historian Pierre Nora during the 1980s. It refers to a specific research paradigm, which since then has been equally received by historical and cultural studies worldwide (cf. Nora 1989). Today, the term is not only used in its narrower sense but also synonymous for memorial sites. Siebeck notes:

Gemäß der Nora’schen Konzeption werden unter Erinnerungsorten nicht Orte im geographischen Sinne bezeichnet, auch wenn sie sich auf geographische Orte beziehen können. Gemeint sind vielmehr discursive Chiffren, von denen [...] Forscher annehmen, dass sie in einem bestimmten soziohistorischen Zusammenhang eine traditions- und identitätsstiftende Rolle spielen (Siebeck 2017, 3).

(According to the concept by Nora, places of memory do not denote places in a geographical sense, although they can refer to geographical places. Meant are discursive codes, of which scholars assume, that they act a part as tradition- and identity-forming function in a certain socio- historical context.) 2 surroundings became profane as the original religious component vanished something which, in some cases, ended the historical memory hidden in the place name. Christianity also sometimes went out of its way to cut off the ties to the more primitive “pagan” religion including the links between earthbound deities and landscapes or even the earth itself (Brink 2001, 81-86). literature certain finds several examples reflecting the significant act of claiming land, which leads to the actual act of ‘baptising’ the area in question and the creation of place names, which survived throughout the centuries and has since become the subject of scholarly examination. Literary accounts, such as Landnámabók (presumably from the 11th century) and Eyrbyggja saga4 tell about settlers coming to Iceland (in this case Þórólfr Mostrarskegg) and how these settlers used to helga sér land, meaning that, as Brink states, the settlers „had to conduct a ritual to claim the land and with some kind of magic make the land heilagr for himself and his heirs” (Ellwood (ed.) 1898, 128, 192, 194; Hermann Pálsson and Edwards (eds) 1989, 28-30; Brink 2001, 87; Brink 2011, 29-20). This led to the act of naming. According to both, Landnámabók and Eyrbyggja saga, Þórólfr called this newly settled peninsula Þórsness and dedicated it to the god Þórr. He named the only hill on this site Helgafell and, according to the saga, he even built a hof (temple? See also 5.2.2.3) to worship Þórr and established a site for a thing assembly here (Hermann Pálsson and Edwards (eds) 1989, 30; Ellwood (ed.) 1898, 49-50). We can assume that the authors of the saga still knew the stories about the particular physical and religious features of this landscape, which the gods and spirits were associated with (Brink 2001, 88; Brink 2011, 20). As Brink proceeds:

There was “a mythical landscape” [...], built up from the physical landscape with its characteristics and the oral myths and legends that explained an elusive supernatural omnipresence. The problem for modern man is that it is extremely difficult to reconstruct or relive this landscape, it is forever lost, because the myths are lost. Today we may only surmise what once was, thanks to the Eddaic fragments of myths and the relevant place names that have survived (Brink 2001, 88).

Place names, such as these (which still exist in Iceland), albeit grown one-dimensional in the present day, are sometimes the only remaining source for the existence oft the religiously

4 We need to bear in mind that Eyrbyggja saga, presumably originated in the middle of the 13th century (Böldl 2005, 1-2), however, is a highly fictional account, biased by Christian writers. 3 impregnated landscapes that existed way back when pre-Christian worship was still vivid and pre-Christian myths and practices still affected daily life.

1.2 Methodology As will be outlined in the following chapters, Scandinavian place-name studies have continuously brought to light new details about early pre-Christian religions and where worship took place, whereas the German scholarship seems to have stagnated, research in the German-speaking area never really exceeding the earliest attempts at an explanation of the potential theophoric place names by Jacob Grimm and Jan de Vries. The aim of this thesis is thus to provide new insights into a field of study focusing on the area of modern Germany that has been left aside for almost a whole century. Looking at the historical background of the place names and incorporating all other available sources that is the archaeolocical, linguistic and literary evidence and comparing the potential German place names to those found in Nordic, Dutch and English areas, this study means to shed new light on the value of the theophoric place names of the early Germanic people in Europe for the study of the old Germanic and Nordic religions. Greule has given a basic guideline for the methodology of place-name studies: The fundamental methodology involves the linguistic-historical and onomastic interpretation of any records of a place name mentioned over time, source criticism constituting a substantial factor in determining the authenticity and reliability of the sources which will vary between documents, deeds, certificates, maps, chronicles and registers of all sorts and considering the wording and spelling of the source text (Greule 2009, 104-106). Also important here is the area under consideration of investigation, noting the background of the name which can relate to geographical features or local patterns of naming places, which might relate to sacral sites, farms or a wide administrative limited area. One needs to consider all historical sources, the dialectal pronunciation of names past and present, taking phonetic and semantic principles of language changes into account, as Brink has done with central places5, having in mind the possible reconstruction of names and hypothetic earlier forms of names.

5 Stefan Brink and Per Vikstrand have also given valuable guidelines that are of particular importance for the study of sacral place names. Works such as “Mythologizing Landscape: Place and Space of Cult and Myth” from 2001, “How uniform was the ?“ from 2007, “Gudhem - the Toponymic Evidence (or Rather Challenge)” from 2011 and Gudarnas Platser. Förkristna Sakraler Ortnamn i Mälaralandskapen from 2001 serve as groundworks for this study. 4 Researchers commonly put the place names of an investigated area into groups, trying to put them into a form of chronology, sorting them by linguistic affiliation. As Greule notes, with a few exceptions, the structure of place names follows the general principles of word formation within the Indo-European languages, which means that in order to layer place names chronologically, one must consider how place names are composed of single words or compounds involving suffixes. Single-word place names (like Eik or Lundr) usually being older than compounds (Greule 2009, 104-106). The selection of the theophoric place names, which will be included into the present discussion, is based on a number of further criteria, noted by Per Vikstrand in his monumental work Gudarnas Platser (2001):

The main problem concerns the delimination of the material, and for this purpose a number of criteria for identifying pre-Christian sacral place-names are established. They should: (1) contain elements with sacral lexical meaning, (2) appear in a pre-historic name setting, (3) be formed according to recognised patterns for sacral place-names and (4) contain elements with known connections to prehistoric Scandinavian religion (Vikstrand 2001).

As noted above, toponymy, however, only has a limited informative value when it comes to the reconstruction of historical conditions. Meaning, other available scientific evidence is necessary to allow conclusions to be drawn with regard to the nature and authenticity of the place name. This means that different disciplines (such as and other historical records) will be addressed in this thesis in order to provide a broader spectrum of evaluation criteria. The methodology of this study thus involves the following features: a. In order to understand the complexity of the study of place names and how far the field has come in recent years, a brief introduction of the general sources for pre-Christian Religious Studies will be given (Chapter 2), especially noting the advantages and problems of place- name studies (Chapter 2.2.3). The chapter will then go on to discuss the history of theophoric tomonymy in Europe, following on the work that has been done on Scandinavian, English and Dutch place-name studies, which provide a strong example for subsequent studies (especially that from Scandinavia), noting previous achievements of key figures of the field (Chapter 3). b. The next step includes a brief outline of the historical background of the area of investigation (Chapter 4) during the period in question in order to understand the cultural situation and the difference between this area and Scandinavia.

5 c. Before discussing the individual place names in detail, it is necessary to explain the potential theophoric place-name elements from a linguistic point of view (Chapters 5.1 and 5.2). Scandinavian, English and Dutch theophoric place names are used as model here to help contextualise these potential Germanic names. d. The final and main part of this thesis consists of the analysis of a number of place names (Chapter 5.3 to 5.6) in Germany. Previous scholarly proposals for potential sacral place names in the German-speaking area provide the starting point of the investigation, which is followed by a discussion of the literary sources for each individual place name, which necessary to get an idea of all the earlier forms of each name in order to place them into linguistic context. The consulting of other contemporary sources, especially archaeological investigations and comparative examples of theophoric place names from the Scandinavian, English and Dutch areas, will precede a final statement regarding the authenticity of each place name. Naturally, Vikstrand’s last point (4) will be altered to this thesis’ needs and shall contain elements with known connections to prehistoric Germanic religion. Comparative (Scandinavian, Dutch and English) material shall nevertheless, where appropriate, be included into the discussion and, which have an important contribution to make in view of the religious relation within the Germanic world.

6 2 Sources Used in Pre-Christian Religious Studies

2.1 Non-Linguistic Sources on Pre-Christian Nordic and Germanic Religion In order to talk about pre-Christian religion, not only regarding the Nordic countries, but also in other Germanic-speaking areas, we have to consider a wide range of different types of sources. Indeed, as Brink says, it is of course “very difficult to identify a ‘pure’ Old Norse religion, uncorroded by Christianity since Scandinavia did not exist in a cultural vacuum” (Brink 2007, 105). This also applies to German-speaking areas where the Christianisation process took place even earlier, meaning sources are much more scattered and blurred in comparison to those concerning the Nordic area. The main sources are archaeological and linguistic. The former type (which especially takes the form of grave material, the remains found at sacrificial and cult sites, and various individual remains) is naturally more trustworthy since it is often preserved in situ and can be proved to originate from the time in question. It is thus contemporary. The key problem is that (apart from runic inscriptions) this material lacks any written explanation and thus needs to be interpreted using linguistic evidence which often comes from either foreign writers (such as and Adam of Bremen) or from post-conversion times, recorded by scribes with a Christian background some two or three hundred years after the formal acceptance of Christianity. This material, in the shape of the Eddic poems, skaldic poems, Icelandic sagas, and works like Landnámabók, Snorra Edda and Saxo Grammaticus’s Gesta Danorum may well have a background in the oral tradition passed on by individual or trained poets, but without any support from archaeological evidence it is impossible to trust (see, for example Turville-Petre 1975; Andrén 2005; McKinnell 2005; Simek 2005; Hultgård 2008; Price 2019). Arguably the study of theophoric place names comes somewhere in between these two fields: while the names are often only recorded after the advent of Christianity they are nonetheless, like archaeological materials, in situ, and can thus be potentially verified by – or in the context of – archaeological remains (as is being done increasingly in the Nordic countries in recent years).

2.2 The Study of Theophoric Place Names as Sources on Old Germanic Religion As noted at the start, toponymy engages with the emergence and development of place names, and (such as ) is part of . As Blok points out:

7 Im Allgemeinen läßt sich sagen, daß Ortsnamen eine lediglich indirekte Quelle für die Geisteswissenschaft darstellen und daß sie dort, wo direkte Quellen zur Verfügung stehen, eine bloß illustrierende Funktion haben. Daraus folgt, daß je weiter wir in die Geschichte zurückgehen und je seltener die direkten Quellen werden, die Ortsnamen umso wichtiger werden [...] (Blok 1988, 37).

(In general, place names merely represent an indirect source for humanities as they occupy a rather illustrating function whenever direct [primary] sources are available. Thus, the further we go back in history and the rarer direct sources get, the more important become place names.)

Despite their status as secondary source, theophoric place-name studies have experienced an upturn in some countries in recent years especially in Scandinavia where scholars have increasingly drawn on place names as part of their studies, stressing their potential informative value (see further Chapter 3.3). Even in Scandinavia, however, the etymology of many place names is uncertain, while in others, even if the place names appear to possess cultic character (as with names ending in -ví (“sanctuary”) or -lundr (“grove”)) there is some uncertainty about the type of cult they indicate. The general distribution of theophoric place names nonetheless seems to allow us to discern regional differences in the worship of individual deities (Simek 2005. 25-26; see also Brink 2007, 105-125b). As Laing explains with regard to the value of pagan place-name studies:

Dating the names of individual places is difficult since there were rapid linguistic developments in the period of the settlements and it is impossible to know how long any one form was in use. On the other hand, place-name study can indicate the spread and extent of settlement. It can suggest what relationships the new- comers might have had with their native neighbours, and in some cases give hints of the original homelands of the villagers. It can, too, point towards those places where other types of fieldwork might usefully be carried out (Laing 1979, 26-27).

As Laing suggests, owing to the problematic nature of place names, and not least those dealing with religious beliefs, it is important to remember that, as with the other sources on Old Nordic and Germanic religions noted above, theophoric place names cannot be used alone to draw solid conclusions about religious belief and practice. One has to use this evidence alongside evidence provided by other disciplines. In short, none of the disciplines noted above is able to say anything about Germanic pre-Christian religions by itself. They need to be used in interaction.

8 2.2.1 Place Names as a Historical Source As place names are essentially a linguistic matter, they have only limited historical relevance. They can, however, provide important suggestions and often help to find missing links with regard to cultural environments. Brink calls this field of research spatial history. As he notes:

[...] since place names are a mass material, their potential as socio- and cultural- historical sources becomes great. [...] Since every name carries some historical information, place names can make the landscape ‘speak’ to us. The names give another dimension to the silent archaeological sources (Brink 2008, 57).

In short, through careful elaboration by linguists, geographic names are capable of supporting other disciplines and through the cooperation of these disciplines, it is possible to achieve enlightenment about historical periods lacking in written sources. The conservation of place names which have great resilience and durability, even in times of migration, makes them valuable material – sometimes the last remaining ethnographic evidence of prehistoric times (Vikstrand 2004 167; Udolph 2003, 234). For example, large numbers of place names rooted in a particular language provides relatively secure evidence that speakers of this language much have lived in the area in question. This is particularly clear in German-speaking areas, where they can be used to point to the existence of particular linguistic groups and their settlement areas as well as boundaries between them and other groups (Krahe 1949, 9; Andersson 1992b, 508, 540; Udolph 2003, 234). Names of water bodies, which seem to have particular resilience, are especially useful here, especially when used in connection with the study of settlement names, pointing to potential continuities or shifts in the history of settlement (Udolph 2003, 235).

2.2.2 Source Criticism in the Field of Place-Name Studies Source criticism and the verification of the records of place names is natural central, great importance being placed on the consideration of whether we are dealing with an original, or an alleged original, and a good or poor copy of an authentic or faked document. Even in the cases of flawless transmitted original documents, it must be remembered that spellings too are commonly copies (Debus 2012, 59-60). In short, documents considered original from a diplomatic point of view, are usually still copies from an onomastic point of view, formed within the evolutionary history of the documents. Each original has its own history, in the form of pre-records and prototypes, local concepts and/or background requests, all of which might 9 have influenced the spelling of a name. This not only involves copying errors, but also more or less intended changes in spellings based on writing traditions and styles (Blok 1988, 27; Bauer 1998, 77). Occasionally one finds documents containing names that had been seemingly standardised in an archaic sense, the records that precede them reflecting the spoken language of the time. The repression of recent phonological developments and Latinisation of names are common symptoms of such normalisation processes (Walther 2003, 38-39). Beside archaic-preserving writing tendencies, we must also expect linguistic interference, as with names, for example, which have intensionally been made to sound High German (Blok 1988, 28; Bauer 1998, 100). Similar problems exist close to linguistic borders or within linguistically mixed areas, where the spelling of a place name usually reflects the language of the writer or his environment. Hence, making a decision about whether a model had been changed or not can be difficult, since different patterns will exist in different areas. Indeed, copies from local prototypes can be found not only in documents but also administrative sources, rent lists often going back to local inventories. Records of resources, meanwhile, are constantly copied year after year (Blok 1988, 26-29). The identification of old records is thus primarily a matter of linguistic research. As noted above, even if the development of the name over time does not follow the phonetic development of the language in question, other explanations remain possible. In such evaluations, historians have to follow the linguists (Blok 1988, 29-30).

2.2.3 Strengths and Weaknesses of Place Names Studies When it comes to the reconstruction of the pagan religion, we can certainly assume that place names can serve as important addition to the great number of written sources such as the Poetic Edda, the Prose Edda or Saxo Grammaticus’ Gesta Danorum (see Jónas Kristjánsson and Vésteinn Ólason (eds) 2014; Saxo Grammaticus 2015; Snorri Sturluson 1987; and Saxo Grammaticus 1886;) which, as noted above, do not date to the but rather to the , even though they may have a background in the oral tradition (Brink 2008, 63). Names basically fulfil the function of identification as communicative labels of their bearers. In short, while a certain existing motive lies behind their naming at the time of their origin, this meaning may no longer be apparent from a present-day perspective making their names seem somewhat arbitrary. This process of ‘de-semantisation’ is something that took place gradually rather than suddenly. Misunderstood names can be inherited, while others

10 have been worn down over time owing to to phonetic shifts and other linguistic changes that have taken place over the time as priority is no longer given to their actual sense but their characteristic attributes. At the same time, however, this tendency encounters the basic need of speakers to attempt retrospectively to find a meaning in the opaque linguistic material. If the immediate meaning is unclear, environmental information based on historical, settlement-historical or archaeological research can help, along with other information relating to geographic-geological circumstances (Lindner 2002, 9). Linguistic developments, however, are sometimes capable of illuminating obscure historical facts, as Lindner points out:

Die sprachwissenschaftliche Interpretation von Ortsnamen ist [...] wie kaum eine andere linguistische Disziplin von außersprachlichen Faktoren historischer, archäologischer und sozio-kultureller Natur abhängig, so daß hier die verschiedenen wissenschaftlichen Disziplinen meist erst in ihrem gemeinsamen Vorgehen und Zusammenwirken eine Klärung der Verhältnisse herbeiführen können (Lindner 2002, 9-10).

(The linguistic interpretation of place names is […] like no other linguistic discipline in considering extralinguistical factors of historical, archaeological and socio-cultural nature, these various academic disciplines only managing to provide a clarification of circumstances through a cooperative approach.)

Place names can thus provide insight into the linguistic relations of early times and providing a layer model that splits linguistic entities into chronological succession. Indeed, in many cases, the only material that enables linguists to decide on the linguistic affiliation of a region and its inhabitants are the names of water bodies, landscapes, and mountains along with names or settlements. The obvious advantage of both natural and settlement names, of course, is their connection to a place. As noted above, within the category of natural names, the earliest solidified evidence of regional spoken language(s) can often be found in place names connected to water (Greule 2009, 103). Other place names (like those examined in this thesis) go further in highlighting regional differences in worship and beliefs. Like settlement names, these help make cultural and social structures spatially graspable (Brink 2001, 85) as space is essentially “a social product, created by human deeds” (Vikstrand 2001, 418). In order to find the oldest attestation of a place name, the right interpretation is, of course, necessary. As noted above, a great amount of written evidence can be found in documents and administrative sources, such as rent lists, invoices and other accounts and registers, along with various other narrative sources which serve this purpose well. Many of

11 these early records have particular value because they have often been recorded without regard to any standardised form of writing. To verify the reliability of the records, the common approaches of medievalists are noted. A key question involves deciding whether the extant spelling stems from the same period and tradition as the document itself. This is of extraordinary importance as names are commonly modernised or even distorted in the production of copies (Blok 1988, 26). Another vital factor in working with place names is the need to remember that they are commonly unbiased, since “no individual determined which names should be coined, and no one had the power to control the naming process” (Brink 2007, 106). Names can thus provide insight into the lives and beliefs of people in general, often avoiding being influenced or knowingly altered in favour of different trends throughout the centuries. As Per Vikstrand notes: “Place-names normally envolves [sic] in informal speech situation”, something which means that we “[...] can therefor be relatively certain that the words that appear in the names, along with the concepts to which they refer, were alive for those who first minted the names” (Vikstrand 2001, 418). As noted above, they also provide a cultural-spatial dimension to the environment, as they link religious belief to the landscapes, something “which makes it possible to use geography in the study of religion” (Brink 2007, 106). The interpretation of place names as an indication of their connection to the worship of a specific deity commonly encounters a number of potential errors which can rarely be eliminated entirely. In his PhD thesis from 2008, Clay summarises this problem as follows:

Rather than examining the large-scale distribution of particular place-name types in order to infer general processes of landscape development, here our concern is with the nature of individual sites. Since place-names rarely survive in their original form, there is always a danger of misreading particular elements. There will also be a degree of uncertainty in inferring function or significance from place-name elements; the appearance of the name of a god, for example, need not imply an active cult as opposed to another form of mythic association. It is therefor vital to take into account the wider topographical and historical context, and to search for patterns in the landscape as a whole (Clay 2008, 237).

Jankuhn describes three commonly occurring mistakes, which have to be borne in mind whilst dealing with theophoric place names: a. In many cases it cannot be entirely determined whether the part of a name possibly linked to a deity actually has a religious context, or should be understood as part of a . 12 b. The direct evaluation of such names needs to bear in mind the possible transfer of a place name to areas where it might have lost its original characteristics, even if the religious setting of the name seems to be certain. c. Key interpretation problems lie in the determination of a place name’s age, even if it is in an area where pre-Christian worship apparently existed over a long period of time. The name could naturally come from a younger period (Jankuhn 1979, 372). According to Laur, the main problem while dealing with such place names is, that we cannot always eventually determine exactly which words (or elements of words) we are dealing with, especially when older evidence is lost. Sometimes, elements of the word have more than one potential meaning if we bear in mind phonetic coincidences, potentially different semantic contents and different etymological origins, so called homonymy. Here we need to distinguish between homophony involving different spelling and homography involving similar meaning. Owing to a lack of source material about earlier patterns, we need to bear two or even more possible interpretations in mind. This is especially unsatisfying when it comes to sacral place names, as scholars intent on explaining the origin of a name need to interpret them in terms of their potential religious-historical background, something which requires reliable sources (Laur 2001, 31-32). Addressing the balance of difficulty and benefits involved in theophoric place-name studies, Brink notes a further problem:

The problem with place names is that they represent only a fraction of the names once in use, although taken together the ones we know of represent a large body of evidence that provides clues to which gods and goddesses were worshipped and where (Brink 2007, 106).

As the study of previous research in Chapters 3.1 and 3.2 shows, problems of these kinds have sometimes led to confusion and furious academic debate. An example of the different academic approaches involving place-name studies can be seen in the reaction to the various opinions of early scholarship as to when and wehere the Oðinn-cult originated (Hultgård 2007, 776-777; see also Rood 2017, 45-46). The Norwegian scholar Magnus Olsen (1878-1963) claimed that a late immigration into the North could be proved on the basis of Norwegian place-name evidence (Magnus Olsen 1915, 90-91, 98). This theory was in turn challenged by Otto Höfler and Turville-Petre, whose opinion was that the spread of the Oðinn-cult did not arrive earlier than during the Viking Age, something that was concluded on the basis of the

13 distribution of Danish Óðinn-names which Höfler felt were introduced by the seafaring people of the Viking Age (Höfler 1969, 197-199) Turville-Petre’s explanation is based on the absence of Òðinn-cult in Iceland (Rood 2017, 46 referring to Turville-Petre 1964, 66, see also Rood 2017, 134-135). Another argument took place about the idea that the god Týr was one of the oldest deities in the north who was pushed into the background during the Viking Age, a hypothesis represented by scholars such as Karl Helm and Otto Höfler that was based largely on the limited evidence of Týr in the Poetic Edda and Snorri Sturluson’s (1179-1241) Prose Edda (Helm 1946, 7-8; Höfler 1952, 64). For other scholars, however, place-name evidence in Denmark seems to indicate that this deity was still being worshipped during the Viking Age (Laur 2001, 72). These examples underline the difficulties that the study of place names involve, showing how scholars have attempted to put place names into different temporal layers, often on the basis of primary elements (Laur 2001, 72). (For a discussion of the primary elements of Nordic and Germanic theophoric place names, see Chapter 5.1). To sum up the enduring key advantages of studying theophoric place names, Brinkwrites:

The contribution of the theophoric place names (containing the name of a god or goddess) are twofold in this respect, they show us: (1) which of the gods and goddesses were actually worshipped, and also (2) where cult was executed, hence giving us a geographical dimension to the analysis. Moreover, we have the cultic place names, hence names containing an element denoting a pagan cult site, such as vi, hov/hof, vang, åker etc (Brink 2008, 63).

As will be noted further in Chapter 3.3, the achievements of recent Scandinavian studies of theophoric place names like those of Stefan Brink and Per Vikstrand, following in the wake of people such as Magnus Olsen have served as role model for modern scholarship, underlining the potential benefits of studying continental place-name material in a comparative way, as this present thesis will attempt to do.

2.2.4 Dating Place Names As has been noted above, if we intend to use place names to draw conclusions about religious- historical events, their dating becomes necessary. The problem of dating place names has been discussed for almost two centuries, but especially with regard to Scandinavian place names, scholars have managed to establish a firm chronology, by comparing them to British place names that have a Scandinavian origin. As Brink claims: “in early Viking Age Denmark 14 the usage of the element -by must have been widespread, since so many English place names ending in -by of Danish origin are to be found in England [...]” (Brink 2008, 58). As scholars have argued, the oldest place names in Scandinavia go back to the early Iron Age, some of them even originating in the Age in the cases of geographical place names indicating lakes, islands, rivers, or bays. The oldest settlement names, meanwhile, appear to date back to the Roman period, although many come from the early Middle Ages, parish names perhaps being from the early Iron Age (Brink 2008, 58) In general, however, as has been implied above, the ultimate dating of elderly place names is often impossible. There is, however, some consensus that different types of place names can be assigned to different wider periods, although examples of overlapping or inaccuracy may occur. As Laur notes: “So werden etwa die alten Kurznamen und Ortsnamen auf -ing(en) und -stedt der Völkerwanderungszeit noch früheren Perioden angehören oder die auf -büttel und -borstel [...] dem Mittelalter vor der Ostkolonisation (Laur 2001, 71) (Some old short names and place names ending in -ing(en) and -stedt are associated with the Migration Period or even earlier periods while […] those ending in -büttel and -borstel come from the Middle Ages prior to the German colonisation of the east). Another way of dating sacral place names involves consideration of the place names of the close surroundings as well as the environment in wider terms. As Laur notes: “Liegt […]ein sakraler Ortsname inmitten überwiegend alter Namen, die sich womöglich zu eienr kleinen geschlossenen Siedlungsgruppe zusammenfassen lassen, so wäre es denkbar, daß unser Ortsname aus der gleichen Zeit wie die umliegenden stammt [...]” (Laur 2001, 74) (If […]a sacral place name is situated amidst a majority of older names which may be summarised as belonging to a small closed group of settlements, it might be possible to assume that our place name stems from the same period as those surrounding [place names] [...]).We can thus assume, for example, a cult place name site found in an area with a majority of names exclusively originating from the Viking Age probably comes from the Viking Age. We must, however, also bear in mind that the settlements of the Viking Age might taken over older territories, underlining that the continuity of a settlement is not necessarily a certainty. This particularly applies to areas where interruptions or shifts in settlement had previously taken place (as in Great Britain and Germany). Here, as noted earlier, these developments can be identified by means of comparison with other place names.

15 Sometimes, however, we must consult other sources, such as those archaeological investigations performed within the same area as the place name in question. As a good example of this, Laur discusses the well-known theophoric name Thorsberg, which one might assume to have originated in the Viking Age. The question nonetheless arises of whether the substantial elder bog sanctuary found at this site was connected to the later name Thorsberg which relates to the only hill in the area. Frequently, other place names found in the surroundings do not help us in drawing any conclusions about the dating of a particular theophoric place name. Here, however, the archaeological evidence excavated underlines that the present was a sacrificial bog, which, generally speaking, cannot be seen as being more recent than from the Migration Period. While Laur feels that Thorsberg, which cannot be older than the Viking Age, it nonetheless seems to preserve the memory of a cult site which must have been passed down to the Viking Age (Laur 2001, 74-75). Of course, while settlement-historical criteria can help in dating sacral place names in general terms, the dates can be fine-tuned by means of prehistoric archeological finds. The question nonetheless remains: exactly how far is it possible to go back in time and how much do spatial and settlement-historical consistency have to be taken into account in the dating of religious place names which remains a difficult and doubtful task (Laur 2001, 74-75). As will be shown in the following chapter, that problems and debates noted above have been a common feature in the history of place name scholarship in Europe.

16 3 The Origins of Place-Name Studies in Europe

3.0 Introduction The academic interest in place-name studies in general did not really develop until the first half of the 19th century. One of the first scholars attempting to engage with place name studies was most certainly been Jacob Grimm (1785-1863), as he included this subject in his extensive lifework Deutsche Mythology (1835). As this chapter will show, Scandinavian scholarship nonetheless developed simultaneously, quickly superseding the continental research and today serves as a role model for modern studies. The Swiss Geographer J. J. Egli (1825–1896) published his book Geschichte der geographischen Namenkunde in 1886, with which he discusses the development of the methodical science of Onomastics during the 19th century, listing scholars from all over the world who have dealt with place names, giving a brief insight into their works. As he goes through the place-name material (sorted by countries), he also references studies on religious place names (Egli 1886, 217, 142-144). During the century that followed, name studies would go on to take a rapid development which would eventually lead to Onomastics becoming embedded within the linguistic sciences, where it remains today (Eichler 1995, 1). As Egli notes, the studies of place names and their meaning originated in ancient times, Greek and Roman philosophers being the first to think about names and naming and the usage of names. Herodotus (c. 484 - c. 425 BC) was one of the first to attempt to explain the names of rivers (albeit in poetic terms). Among the Romans, Pliny the Elder (born Gaius Plinius Secundus, 23–79 AD) created an extensive encyclopaedia titled Naturalis Historia, which survived in its entirety, providing a large number of place names and geographical descriptions as part of a wide range of subject areas of ancient knowledge (Cajus Plinius Secundus 1881, 221-492). As Egli notes: this work “dürfte als die [...] höchste toponomastosche Leistung des Alterthums anzusehen sein” (Egli 1886, 16) (may be regarded as the highest toponomastic achievement of ancient times). Similar etymologies exist from the Middle Ages, showing that the interest of authors and annalists in place names was increasing, although much of this work can still be classified as pseudo- or folk etymologies. These include Adam of Bremen’s (ca. 1050-1081/1085) Gesta Hammaburgensis ecclesiae pontificum includes a Descriptio insularum aquilonis (written 1070-1076, extended 1081/1085), an ethnological and geographical work placing special emphasis on the countries of (Adam of Bremen 1986, 253-297). An earlier

17 extensive work is the Etymologiae of Isidore of Seville (written around 560-636) consisting of 20 parts addressing different topics, including considerations of various place names (cf. Isidore of Seville 1987). The onset of serious debate about place names and their meaning in the German- speaking area, goes back to the period of Humanism and Reformation as well as to the Baroque period in the 16th centuries. One of the first people to engage with place names was Johannes Turmair, also known as Aventinus (1477-1534), who attempted to explain Bavarian names in his Annales ducum Boiariae (1554) and his Bayerische Chronik (1566) (cf. Turmair 1882a; Turmair 1884; Turmair 1882b; Turmair 1883; Turmair 1886; and Debus 2012, 16). A few decades later, Justus Georg Schottelius (1612-1676) included several hundred names into his work Ausführliche Arbeit Von der Teutschen HaubtSprache (1663), placing special emphasis onthe linguistic-historical value of place names in the fifth volume of his work De Nominibus Propriis Veterum Teutonicorum seu Celticorum populorum: Cum explicatione Latina & Germanica, ordine Alphabetico (Schottelius 1663, 1029-1098). Apart from a few attempts at explaining single place names, for the main part it might be said that the interest in German place names and their meaning did really not develop until the onset of the Age of Enlightenment in the eighteenth century (Debus 2012, 17). Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz (1646-1716) was one of the first scholars to introduce name studies into the discipline of linguistics, emphasising the value of historical sources and the informative factor of names in his article “Brevis Designation Meditationum de Originibus Gentium” (1768):

Illud enim pro axiomate habeo, omnia nomina quae vocamus propria aliquando appellativa fuisse, alioqui ratione nulla constarent. Itaque, quoties vocabulum fluminis, montis, sylvae, gentis, pagi, oppidi, villae, non intelligimus, intelligere debemus, ab antiqua nos lingua discessisse (Leibnitz 1768, 186).

(I certainly consider the following to be a principle, that all names which we call proper were appelatives once, otherwise they would in no way persist. Hence, each time we do not recognise the name of the river, the mountain, the wood, the tribe, the region, the town, the house, we are obliged to realise that the old language has disappeared.)

Leibnitz’ work was followed up a century later in the German-speaking area by not only the Grimms but also Wilhelm Arnold (1826-1883), whose work Ansiedlungen und Wanderungen deutscher Stämme: zumeist nach hessischen Ortsnamen (1875) can be said to have shaped the

18 early approach to German place names in a socio-historical perspective. The works by Ernst Förstemann (1822-1906), Die Deutschen Ortsnamen (1863) and Altdeutsches Namenbuch (1856/1859), (especially volume 2 addressing place names), have become especially relevant for modern place-name studies in the German-speaking area (see Förstemann 1863 and 1967). Adolf Bach’s (1890-1972) monumental work Deutsche Namenkunde, especially volume 2: Die deutschen Ortsnamen which is devoted to introducing issues such as phonology, word creation and meaning of German place names as well as the geographical and socio-historical approach to place names remains still fundamental for the education of German-speaking linguists today (cf. Bach 1953, 1954). One of the most prominent German place-name scholars today is Jürgen Udolph (University of Leipzig), who has held the only professorship for onomastics in the German- speaking area from 2000 until 2008. His dissertation Studien zu slavischen Gewässernamen und Gewässerbezeichnungen (1979) reflects his first engagement with hydronymy, which would remain one of his main interests throughout his career (cf. Udolph 1979). He nonetheless published an extensive study of Germanic place names in 1994 (cf. Udolph 1994), and has been leading a project aimed at the study of place names in and Westphalia run by the Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen (Academy of sciences of Göttingen) since 2005. He has been frequently invited to regular radio broadcasts and TV shows which have generated great interest, and led to his becoming one of the best-known and highly respected onomatologists today (see Udolph’s homepage). Wolfgang Laur’s (1921-2009) contribution to not only place-name studies in general, in works such as Der Name: Beiträge zur allgemeinen Namenkunde und ihre Grundlegung (1989), but also his engagement with the question of theophoric place names (see Chapter 5) within the border area between Germany and Denmark, is still highly respected today. All of these scholars have played fundamental roles in the use of Germanic place-name studies as supporting evidence in various historical disciplines, including the consideration of Old Nordic and Germanic religions.

3.1 The History of Place-Name Studies in Scandinavia It is important to bear in mind that, on an international scale, each area – Central Europe, Scandinavia, Eastern Europe, and so on – has its own background and specific characteristics (particularly ethnic and cultural historical), which have affected the development of place-

19 name studies in their area (Eichler 1995, 1). This applies especially to Scandinavia, where the studies of onomastics and toponymy have had a long tradition, peaking during the period of national romanticism in the early nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth century (Brink 2007, 106). Scholarship nonetheless declined in the 1950s “due the contemporary critique of the romantic and nationalistic research agenda of earlier scholars and the lack of source criticism in earlier research” as the “loose of extravagances early scholars allowed themselves in interpreting, reconstructing, and evaluating sources led to a backlash against the study of place names in relation to pagan religion” (Brink 2007, 107). Today, as the interest of young scholars focusing on pagan religion is again increasing, the study of theophoric place names is well on the mendl (Brink 2007, 107). As the Scandinavian scholarship relating to place names has been that which has placed most focus on theophoric place names, it forms one of the key methodological models for this thesis (see Chapter 1.2). For that reason, it is important to discuss the history of Scandinavian place-name scholarship in some detail before going any further.

3.1.1 Norway As in Germany (see Chapter 3.4), academic studies of Norwegian toponymy can be said to have started in the Post Reformation period of the seventeenth century, when the interest in place-name interpretation was beginning to increase. Scholars at this time were beginning to draw on an ever-increasing number of extant original sources, starting with runic inscriptions in Proto-Scandinavian dating back to the middle of the second century, which are the oldest sources for Norwegian names. As time went on, these sources were added to by a range of documents and manuscripts – including the saga manuscripts – which go back to c. 1150 AD, which provide the first sources of personal and place names that still exist in Norway (Stemshaug 1995, 32). Formal Norwegian place-name research that is based on more than loose speculative etymology goes back to around 1830, when work on the history of the modern Norwegian language began in earnest and scholars started to adopt modern, comparative linguistic methods. One of the first participants in a profound debate that led to the beginning of a modern place-name research in the 1870s was the linguist Ivar Aasen (1813-1896) who included the study of Norwegian place names in his several revolutionary works addressing Norwegian language and dialectology, such as Norsk Ordbog med dansk Forklaring (1873) (cf.

20 Aasen 1997). In the same period, the historian Peter Andreas Munch (1810-1863), discussed, among other things, in his work Historisk-geografisk Beskrivelse af Kongeriget Norge I Middelalderen (1849) place names ending in -vin and heimr, although his assumptions were not always correct (Munch 1849; Falk 1919, 375). The work of the archaeologist Karl Rygh (1839-1915) on the farm names of Helgeland (1871) was nonetheless the first real study in Norwegian place names including a discussion of names without an article such as -berg, -dalr, -vík, -fjörðr (cf. Karl Rygh 1871). Shortly after, the Norwegian name commission Den Norske Historiske Forening was established to “prepare sound professional principles for the place name interpretations” (Stemshaug 1995, 33), among other things in order to “revise the spelling of the farm names in the planned new edition of the national land register” (Stemshaug 1995, 33), for which the historian Oluf Rygh (1833-1899), Karl Rygh’s brother, presided as chairman. Oluf Rygh was also the person who laid down the critical- methodological outlines that would go on to serve as the foundation for further place name research in Scandinavia, arguing that: “place name research must rely on knowledge of forms of the name in older documents, of genuine inherited pronunciation, and of facts about the physical background” (Stemshaug 1995, 33). His works Norske Gaardnavne (1897/1898) and Gamle Personnavne i norske Stedsnavne (1901), which contained an extensive register of place names (including place names containing the names of gods) throughout the country were a breakthrough and would be followed up by a range of other notable scholars, in particular by Magnus Olsen. These works also contained an interpretation of the various place names, establishing an important model for later works in the field of Scandinavian place name studies as a whole (Oluf Rygh 1897/1898; Oluf Rygh 1901). Rygh’s later publication Norske Fjordnavne (1896) on topographic names would be equally important in this regard (Oluf Rygh 1897). As Stemshaug writes about Rygh’s exemplary work:

Oluf Rygh was […] unique in his field, influencing place name research in a decisive way in all the Nordic countries. [...] The most outstanding feature of Rygh’s work is the solid methodical basis he gave to Norwegian and Scandinavian place name research, and, in addition to this, some special research techniques, e.g., his so-called “stratum-follow-method”, by which one can identify lost place names preserved as elements in other place names (Stemshaug 1995, 33).

Following on from Rygh’s work, the Old Norse philologist Magnus Olsen and the language historian Gustav Indrebø (1889-1942) went on to lead the field of place name studies in Norway in the period between the turn of the century and the Second World War. While the 21 latter studied topographical names and the administration systems of the Middle Ages, Olsen was especially concerned with the research of theophoric place names, which he saw as having genuine roots in pre-Christian religion. Works such as Hedenske Kulturminder i Norske Stedsnavn (1915), Ættegård og Helligdom: Norske Stedsnavn Sosialt og Religionshistorisk Belyst (1926) (translated into English in 1928 as Farms and Fanes of Ancient Norway: The Place-Names of a Country Discussed in Their Bearings on Social and Religious History), would shape the relationship between linguistics and religious studies for a number of years to come (see also Chapter 3.2.1 on the nature of Magnus Olsen’s work). While Olsen’s work was questioned after the war by the rationalist Eivind Vågslid (1897-1986), who was of the opinion that Norwegian farm names do not have any pagan mythological elements at all, Vågslid’s work was, however, poorly received (Stemshaug 1995, 33-34). In recent years, the leading Swedish place-name expert, Stefan Brink, has praised Olsen for his innovating work in this field (Brink 2007, 22). While the focus in Norwegian place-name studies in more recent years has been on other areas, as Stemshaug notes, “Norwegian name research has traditionally been historically oriented, especially settlement history” (Stemshaug 1995, 34-35).

3.1.2 Sweden As with Norway, there has been a comparatively long tradition of Swedish place name studies. The onset of scholarly investigations into different types of Swedish place names and their chronological classification could be seen in 1706 in the work of the historian Andreas Stobæus (1642-1714) De Scania antiqua dissertatio prima, quam sub præsidio Andreæ Stobæi (Stobæus 1706, 16-18). However, serious interest in this side of linguistics did not really develop until the end of the 19th century in the first work by Magnus Fredrik Lundgren (1852- 1903), Språkliga intyg om hednisk gudatro i Sverige (1878) in which Lundgren discusses place names with potential pre-Christian religious significance, sorted on the basis of the different deities (Lundgren 1878, 27-85). From the beginning of the 20th century onward, the interest in Swedish place-name studies increased, especially when the Kungl. Ortnamnskommittén (replaced in 1930 by Kungl. Ortnamnskommissionen) was established in 1902 to systematically gather and examine Swedish place names. It might be argued that this marked the beginning of modern Swedish place-name studies. In 1928, the Svenska ortnamnsarkivet was established, and two years

22 later, the chairman of the archive, Jöran Sahlgren (1884-1971), became professor of place- name studies at the University of Uppsala (from 1930 until 1950). Sahlgren would play an important role for the Swedish onomastics, also establishing the Institutet för ortnamns- och dialektforskning vid Göteborgs högskola (1917) and the Svenska Ortnamnsarkivet (1928), a special place-name archive in Uppsala, thereby expanding the field of study at the University of Uppsala. The journal Namn och bygd, published by the Svenska Ortnamsarkivet, was started in 1913 and includes numerous articles by Sahlgren. Of particular importance was Sahlgren’s work Vad våra ortnamn berätta (1930), in which Sahlgren puts the sacral place names of Sweden into a literary context, representing an early attempt to explain pre-Christian beliefs on the basis place-name studies with the help of literature (Sahlgren 1932, 57-66). Stressing the value of place-name studies, Sahlgren notes: “Ortnamnen äro samtida historiska dokument. När de svenska ortnamnen blivit fullständigt upptecknade och förklarade, då skall vår historia börja ett tusen år tidigare än nu” (Sahlgren 1932, 66), and during his career, he proved his “his utterly pragmatic approach to the semantic interpretation of place names and his insistence on sound etymological principles” (Haugen and Markey 1972b, 63). Addressing his contribution for the study of sacral place names, Brink notes: “Sahlgren [...] was to dramatically change the discourse in Scandinavian toponymy, particularly in regards to sacral and cultic names. [...] Sahlgren had started a clean-up operation in the discipline” (Brink 2014, 163).6 Another person engaged with the study of sacral place names and their value for the history of was Elias Wessén (1889-1981) who published a series of important articles, such as “Schwedische Ortsnamen und altnordische Mythologie”, (Wessén 1929-1930; see also Haugen and Markey 1972b, 64). This period of the 1930s and 1940s has been described as the “golden age” of Swedish place-name studies, firmly establishing Uppsala as the centre of onomastics in Sweden (Andersson 1995, 40). Today, the Ortnamnsarkivet i Uppsala is still primarily responsible for the studies of Swedish place names, although it receives some support from the dialect and place name archives in Göteborg, Lund and Umeå (Andersson 1995, 40). Alongside the various archives, Nordiska samarbetskommittén för namnforskning (NORNA), which was established in 1971,

6 Sahlgren, for example, critically examined the Scandinavian vi-names, aiming to prove that these names were of non-cultic relevance denoting forests based on the OSw term viþer (Brink 2014, 163). His work from 1950 “Hednisk gudalära och nordiska ortnamn: Kritiska inlägg“ represented the heyday of his criticism (cf. Sahlgren 1950; Brink 2014 163). 23 has had an invaluable significance for onomastics in Scandinavia, not least as a result of the “NORNA-rapporter” which are regularly published in Uppsala, and the Lexikon över nordiska ortnamnselement (NONFLex), in which various Nordic name scholars are involved. Both are centred in Uppsala (Andersson 1995, 40-41). Arguably modern-day Swedish onomastics is entering another golden age if we consider the innovative works of scholars like Thorsten Anderssen (1929-2018), Lennart Elmevik, Stefan Brink and Per Vikstrand who regularly provide new insights into the study of sacral place names in Sweden and Scandinavia in general. As chairman of the NORN-committee (1971- 1980) and editor of the Swedish onomastical journal Namn og bygd: Tidskrift för nordisk ortnamnsforskning (1985-2005), Thorsten Anderssen drew special attention to sacral place names in articles such as “Germanisch Hof -Hügel, Hof, Heiligtum” and “Haupttypen sakraler Ortsnamen Ostskandinaviens” (Andersson 1986, 1-9; and 1992, 241-266). In other studies, such as “Germanisch in Skandinavien im Lichte der Ortsnamen” (2003), he discusses the origin of the Scandinavian languages and the question of Germanic continuity by means of place names (Andersson 2003, 1-8). In contrast, in his important article “Till diskussionen om ett sakralt *al i nordiska ortnamn”, Lennart Elmevik addresses the place-name element *al and tries to prove the non-sacral character of the component -al in place names (Elmevik 2004, 38-56). Elsewhere, he tackles the problematic question of sacral place names potentially involving the name deity Freyja in Scandinavia in his article “Till frågan om existensen av gudinnenamnet Fröja i norska ortnamn” (Elmevik 2005, 136-138). The outstanding contributions to the field of theophoric onomastics that have been made by Stefan Brink and Per Vikstrand are discussed in more detail below (see Chapters 3.3.1 and 3.3.2).

3.1.3 Denmark As with Norway and Sweden, place-name studies in Denmark have tended to be historically orientated, material dating to the time before the Danish monarchy was formally established in the 10th century being of particular interest. The onset of modern Danish place-name studies dates to the middle of the 18th century, and was principally shaped by Niels Matthias Petersen (1791-1862), who was the first person to place emphasis on the importance of the earliest written forms of place names for studies into onomastics in his work Bemærkninger over danske og norske Stednavnes Oprindelse og Forklaring (1833). He was the person who

24 even declared “Odense = -ø”, becoming one of the first scholars to draw attention to the potential value of place-name studies for the pre-Christian religion (Petersen 1833, 39). Johannes Steenstrup (1844-1935) followed up this work, studying the dating and typology of names, and determined that certain aspects of place names were almost exclusively connected to personal names (as with -sted, -lev, -köb, -böl, -torp and -röd) (Steenstrup 1896, 358-368). The names of gods, he argued, were in general more commonly associated with terms for natural features (Steenstrup 1896, 368-382; see also Falk 1910, 375). Elsewhere, in his article “Nogle Undersøgelser om Guders Navne i de nordiske Stedsnavne” (1895), Stenstrup concludes that:

Langt snarere kan man sige, at den Omstændighed, at Gudernes Navne ofte sammensættes med Ord som -aker, -heim, -sal, der paa den Tid, fra hvilken vore ældste skriftlige Kilder fra Norden skrive sig, have faaet en ændret, som oftest mere afgrænset Betydning end den, de havde, da Navngivelsen fandt Sted, taler for, at Guderne ere gamle i Landet. [...] I Norge finds som bekjendt Navnet Hof, Hov meget ofte, og ligeledes er -hof meget hyppigt sammensat med Guders Navne (Steenstrup 1896, 383-384).

Reflecting similar developments to those that took place in Sweden and Norway, the national committee of place names, Stednavneudvalegt, was formally established in 1910 to consider questions regarding both the naming and the orthography of names, as well as setting the basis for scholarly investigation into place names in Denmark. The committee was later transformed into an institute for onomastics (Institut for navneforskning) at the University of Copenhagen, but still serves as advisory institution with regard to matters of naming and orthography along with conducting scientific work. A new approach was introduced by the archaeologist Olaf Olsen (1928-2015) might be said to have reshaped the field of Scandinavian onomastics significantly by underlining the value of archaeological research for place-name studies. Tackling the problematic question of heathen “temples” (or hof), Olsen’s dissertation Hørg, Hov and Kirke. Historiske og arkæologiske vikingetidsstudier opened a new field of discussion in Scandinavian place-name studies (O. Olsen 1966) (see also Chapter 3.2.2). Nowadays in Denmark, place names tend to be studied on the basis of linguistic structures as well as social factors. The main work on place names is Danmarks Stednavne, first published in 1922 by the Place Name Committee (Samsøs Stednavne), which presents place names in

25 topographical order, discussing both old and new evidence and interpretations7 (Danmarks stednavne 1922-) New evaluations of the place-name material then appear in Navnestudier, which contains comparative analysis of place names making use of as cultural-historical sources, and discusses place names in a wide range of different local categories, including street names and the names of lakes and rivers, as well as on considering sites of potential theophoric significance (for example vol. XIX 19: Stednavne som kulturhistorisk kilde from 1980), always bearing in mind the linguistic contexts of this material. Other results appear in the earlier-noted NORNA-reports and in the Swedish journal Namn og bygd (Sørensen 1995, 46-47). One of the leading scholars engaged with the study of both Danish and English place names and their potential relationship (including sacral place names) is Gillian -Jensen, who was born in England. She has published a number of important articles such as “ in the British Isles: The Place-Name Evidence” and “The Scandinavian Background to English Place-Names” (see Fellows-Jensen 2000, 135-146; and 2013, 75-102).

3.1.4 Iceland In comparison to the large amount of work that has been carried out in the mainland Nordic countries, the history of place-name research in Iceland is relatively short. The majority of the early published works have tended to discuss individual place or field names, although since the beginning of the twentieth century, longer overviews have started emerging. One of the first scholars to discuss potentially theophoric Icelandic farm names in detail was the Old Norse scholar Finnur Jónsson (1858-1934) who in 1911 published “Finds and Excavations of Heathen Temples in Iceland” which discusses the archaeological investigations carried out at sites bearing a -hof-name, trying to establish connections between these and literary accounts of pre-Christian cult activities (F. Jónsson 1911, 25-37). Later, Finnur went on to examine the names of fjords and bays as well as mountains, attempting to classify these names in accordance with their semantic field in order to examine the principles that the naming was originally based on. Finnur’s first attempts at the interpretation of Icelandic farm names was followed up by a study by Hannes Þorsteinsson (1860-1935) study “Rannsókn og leiðréttingar á nokkrum bæjanöfn” á Íslandi (1923) and Bæjanöfn á Norðurlandi by Margeir Jónsson (1921- 1933) (see also Haugen and Markey 1972a, 1565). The Icelandic institute for place names

7 Today, Danish place names can be accessed by means of an online portal into the Forskergruppen for Navneforsknings supplerende database, Geodatastyrelsens StedNavne and StamOplysningsRegister: see http://www.danmarksstednavne.navneforskning.ku.dk. 26 Örnefnastofnun was only established as an independent department of Þjóðminjasafn (the National Museum) in 1969. It was placed under the direction of Þórhallur Vilmundarson (1924- 2013) who then formally took over the task of gathering Icelandic field names from the Fornleifafélag (archaeological society) and the National Museum. This institute now publishes the series Grímnir which contains, among other things, various articles by Þórhallur about place and field names and their interpretation (Guðrún Kvaran 1995, 49-50). In the present context, it is worth noting Þorhallur’s article “Hugarflug og veruleiki í islenzkum örnefnum” (1978) in which he rejects the traditional interpretation of the stem Þórs- in Icelandic place names as reflecting the name of the god Þórr (Þ. Vilmundarson 1978, 108-112). At around the same time, Þorhallur Vilmundarson cast doubt on the reliability of Landnámabók as source for place names, introducing a controversial theory that a great number of the place and field names, which, according to Landnámabók are based on personal names of settlers, were actually descriptions of geographical features (see Þorhallur Vilmundarson 1971, 225-244; 1976, 533-564; and 1978, 100-112). Addressing Þórhallur Vilmundarson’s work, Brink notes that:

[...] Þórhallur Vilmundarson, took [...] as his toponymic mission to show that there are no - or utterly few - theophoric names in Iceland. [...] Þórhallur made an effortless clean-up operation, but one gets the impression that sometimes the new profane meanings look somewhat far-fetched, and that this clean-up operation has become more of a mission than a balanced analysis (Brink 2014, 165-166).

Throughout the last decades, a great number of works dealing with Icelandic place and field names have been released by Örnefnastofnun. Of particular importance for this present study is the work of Svavar Sigmundsson who took over from Þórhallur, reintroducing a more conventional approach to Icelandic place names (see Guðrún Kvaran 1995, 50). In 2005, Svavar published the important article “Icelandic Place-Names in North Atlantic Light”, which focuses on theophoric place names in Iceland (Svavar Sigmundsson 2005, 229-233).

3.2 Key Theories Relating to the Study of Theophoric Place Names in the North

3.2.1 Magnus Olsen as Pioneer of Scandinavian Toponymy With regard to the value of theophoric place names for attaining a deeper knowledge of pre- Christian sanctuaries, the work of the earlier-noted Magnus Olsen in his Hedenske Kultminder

27 i norske Stedsnavne (1915) must be regarded as ground-breaking for subsequent scholarship. According to Jan de Vries, Olsen introduced a new method for examining pre-Christian cultural organisations on the basis of toponymy which he used to separate public and private cult sites, implying that different types of cults could be discerned from place names. For Olsen, the relationship between belief and agriculture could be seen in suffixes like vin and akr. He even suggested that place names could be used to establish a chronological order of cult activities. As de Vries writes: “Es wurde auch auf die Bedeutung der Götter selbst ein unerwartetes Licht geworfen, indem die Ortsnamen zum Teil einen weit altertümlicheren Zustand wiederspiegeln als den aus der Literatur bekannten” (de Vries 1956, I, 66) (It has also been shed an unexpected light on the meaning of deities themselves, while the place names, to some extend, reflect a far more ancient state than known from literature). Olsen‘s later work, Ættegård og Helligdom: Norske Stedsnavn Sosialt og Religionshistorisk belyst (1926), examines the Norwegian farm names in the light of their social and religious context, questioning the continuity from pagan to Christian times. As notes: “For første gang har vi nu i disse studier fått høre nærmere om kontinuitet med hensyn til sognemidtpunkt fra hedendom til kristendom. [...] mange av kirkestederne er gårder som under hedendommen hr fått navn efter helligdom der” (M. Olsen 1978, 225-227). According to Olsen, over 600 Norwegian place names pointed to the existence of pre-Christian cult sites, many of which had topographical features, such as Baldersberg, Þórsbjǫrg, Frøys(h)líð, Njarðarhóll, Ullarhváll, Týsnes, and Óðinsøy, among others (see Chapter 5.2.1 for a discussion of natural features within theophoric place names). For Olsen, farm names also contained the names of gods, many of these ending with the suffix -setr, -heimr, –vin, -akr, -bólstaðr and -þveit: names such as Þórsland, Frøyssetr, Njarðar(h)eimr, Ullarin (-vin), and so forth. As Olsen notes, many of these farm names use or include terms that were originally used for holy sites, as with the uncompounded hof, hǫrgr, vé and vangr, which could also be connected to a god’s name, as with Njarðarhof or Ullinsvangr (see M. Olsen 1978, 227-228). Olsen also discusses place names found in the immediate neighbourhood of church-farms, concluding:

Out of the 85 farms called Hof [in Norway] one half is found closely connected with a church-farm; and it is the same with about one half of the Vang-names, as well as with 12 of the 24 names of the Þórshof-type. If we consider these facts, we can entertain no doubt about all these Hof- and Vang-places having been public places of worship. At the end of heathen times these must have been religious centres and must have continued as such in the ecclesiastical parishes of Christian times (O. Olsen 1928, 268). 28

Olsen’s findings, which provided important clues for following research, also noted the divergence between written sources and place names. As he notes, some place names point to the worship of gods who are hardly refered to in the medieval literary records, while other deities (like Baldr and Heimdallr) who regularly occur in the written sources are almost completely missing in the place-name evidence (de Vries 1956, I, 66-67).

3.2.2 Olaf Olsen’s Criticism of Magnus Olsen’s Work The arguments introduced in the sixties by the earlier-noted Danish archaeologist Olaf Olsen with regard to his predecessor, Magnus Olsen’s conclusions about hof (lit. temple) place names opened a heated debate in the 1960s, and would have a long-term effect in the fields of archaeology and theophoric toponymy for a number of decades. Olaf Olsen, who was professor of medieval archaeology at the University of Aarhus, Denmark, carried out numerous archaeological excavations on sites relating to the Viking Age in Scandinavia, many of them being sites involving the place-name element hof. His dissertation Hørg, Hov and Kirke: Historiske og arkæologiske vikingetidsstudier (1966) attracted a great deal of attention and would lead to radical changes in approaches to sites with theophoric place names among generation of scholars that followed. Olsen’s work pointed to obvious lack of archaeological evidence of “temples” in the Nordic countries at sites designated by place names as hof or –hof, questioning Magnus Olsen’s theory that the temples had been replaced by churches at the onset of Christianity (see previous chapter, and M. Olsen 1928, 268). Olaf Olsen pointed to the large number of excavations carried out underneath churches which, showed no traces of continuity from pre- Christian sanctuaries to Christian churches. In short, the main aim of Olsen’s thesis was to evaluate the “extent to which worship [of any kind] took place in association with sacral buildings at the end of the heathen period” (O. Olsen 1966, 277). Negating any reliability of the saga accounts of pagan cult sites in Old Norse prose and poetry, Olsen points to those contemporary historical sources and place names which suggest that “heathen cult in the Viking period was generally practiced in a holy place in the open or in the main room of a farmstead” (O. Olsen, 1966, 282). The only place name that he considers might possibly indicate “a course of development which may have played some part in bringing the ancient open-air holy places under cover” (O. Olsen, 1966, 282) is hǫrgr, which Olsen feels might have

29 represented a shelter for pre-Christian images. Apart from this, Olsen argues that we have an “almost total lack of knowledge concerning the holy places of pagan times” (O. Olsen 1966, 288). Indeed, Olsen also rejects the idea of the continuous use of similar grounds from paganism to Christianity (Olsen 1966, 288). Olsen’s elaborate yet plausible arguments expressed in his initially controversial thesis worked alongside Jöran Sahlgren’s similar questioning of theophoric place names from the same period) to cause some stagnation in the study of pre-Christian cult sites. It would be some time before the argument could progress.

3.3 Theophoric Place Name Studies Today: Leading Nordic Scholars

3.3.0 Introduction As has been noted above, the work of Olaf Olsen, Jöran Sahlgren and Lennart Elmevik brought about a certain wariness with regard to the discussion of theophoric place names, and those relating to potential cult sites (in spite of the arguments that had been made by Jan de Vries.8) Nonetheless, re-examining the material in the light of new archaeological finds9 has brought the next generation of scholars came to see things quite differently. This has resulted in the research of sacral names experiencing a revival, as scholars have effectively demonstrated that place names tend to reflect the society and environment in which they were created, and potentially provide a valuable insight into the collective worship of pre-Christian gods, the cults that surround this and their organisation (Andersson 1992b, 540). The main ideas of two of the most ground-breaking scholars working in the field of Nordic theophoric place names in recent years will be discussed below.

8 Jan de Vries dedicated a whole section in his Altgermanische Religionsgeschichte from 1935 to the evidence of theophoric place names and their value for religious studies, something which he developed in later works such as Etymologisch Woordenboek: Waar komen onzw woorden en plaatsnamen vandaan? from 1958 and Woordenboek der noord- en Zuidnederlandse plaatsnamen from 1962 (cf. de Vries 1935/1956, de Vries 1958; de Vries 1962). 9 Recent archaeological investigations have shown that the previously rejected correlation of place names and cult sites needs to be reconsidered. Works such as “Political and Social Structures in Early Scandinavia: A Settlement-historical Pre-Study of the Central Place” by Brink (1998), “Folkvandringstidens Uppsala: Namn, myter, arkeologi och historia” by Gräslund (1993), and “Om relationen mellan arkeologi och ortnamnsforskning: med en discussion om ägonamn, olurala bebyggelsenamn och begreppet gård” (Gräslund, 2010), underline the advantages of an inter-disciplinary approach that includes archaeology, literature, and onomastics. 30 3.3.1 Stefan Brink As has been noted above, Stefan Brink is one of the most prominent Nordic scholars to deal with place-name studies. Previously professor at the Centre of Scandinavian Studies at the University of Aberdeen is an inter-disciplinary scholar who makes effective use of place-name studies in combination with other fields, such as literature and archaeology, among other things as part of the general debate regarding the role of central places10 in Scandinavia (a field in which he has taken a leading role). Brink argues that place names always carry historical information, and that through them we “can make the landscape ‘speak’ to us” (Brink 2008, 57), thereby giving “another dimension to the silent archaeological sources” (Brink 2008, 57). For Brink, in combination, place names form small narratives retelling the history of landscapes, and not least their spatial history. He stresses the importance of considering the transfer of words and place-name elements to other countries like the British Isles and Iceland, something which can serve as a means of estimating both the distribution and the age of particular word elements like those relating to religious activities (Brink 2008, 57-58; see also on Vikstrand below). As noted above, with regard to sacral place names, Brink (following up on the work of Magnus Olsen in earlier times) emphasises that they show us which deities were worshipped and where religious cult was performed providing a glimpse into the spatial distribution (Brink 2008, 63). As he stresses, the range of information leads us to the natural conclusion that pre-

10 In Scandinavia, trade and craft production only took place in a rural context before the beginning of the Viking Age. However, from the first millennium AD onwards, it seems that urban activity moved towards the development of larger complexes, which have been referred to as “central places”, and are represented by sites such as Uppåkra, Tissø, Lejre and Gudme. Dagfinn Skre points out that “the full nature of several of these sites is yet unknown, as the task of excavating their [...] complex deposits and analysing their character and development is so overwhelming” (Skre 2008, 86-87). Explaining the nature of central places, Skre writes:

Apparently they are first and foremost aristocratic manors with more or less distinct traces of cultic activities, craft, trade, and houses for people attached to the aristocratic household. However, during the long period in which many of them existed, in the case of Uppåkra a whole millennium, there are bound to have been some major changes in their size and functions, about which we as yet know rather little (Skre 2008, 87).

Brink notes that other kinds of central places of lower social level existed alongside the permanent settlements of the upper class but emphasises his interest in “sites or small settlement structures that have had some function or significance exceeding the particular site or settlement, in other words, some kind of ‘power’ over a wider area” (Brink 1998, 237). In this context, the concept of the hall as special building of chieftains, something reflected in Old Nordic literature, has begun to be supported in archaeological excavations (Brink 1998, 238). The permanent communities around these central buildings, which included cultic sites, evidently continued to flourish until the end of the Viking Age (Skre 2008, 87). Brink stresses the value of place-name studies which underline the idea of a “multifunctional central-place-complex”, since the names within such environments appear to have some sort of connection (Brink 1998, 241-242). 31 Christian religion in Scandinavia was heterogeneous and thus, regional and cultic variation were predominant factors (Brink 2008, 63). In earlier articles, Brink was focusing on the development of cultural landscapes and “place” in pre-Christian Scandinavia, and the role played by religion in these landscapes. As noted above, in his article “Political and Social Structures in Early Scandinavia: A Settlement- Historical Pre-study of the Central Place” (1996), he uses place names as a means of considering the social functions played by various sites within a wider settlement structures, and most particularly those structures that surrounded the halls of the new aristocratic rulers of particular areas:11

There are several ways of tracing these central or nodal places in the landscape, for example, from (i) special buildings (halls, churches, etc.), (ii) exclusive or specialized artefacts (, regalia, bracteates, weapons, craftmen’s tools, imports, etc.), (iii) special ancient monuments (large mounds, boat , weapon graves, etc.) and (iv) special kinds of names (Tuna, Husaby, Bo, Kaupang, etc.) (Brink 1996, 236).

Brink’s overall conclusion is that “In the light of toponomy, the historical picture seems to become clear” (Brink 1996, 273), and these ideas have since been backed up by a number of excavations that have taken place at central sites such as Uppåkra, Lejre, Gudme and Tissö.12 A central feature of Brink’s scholarly discourse (in part relating to central places) is the discussion of mythical and sacral geography, and those places and spaces “that may help us to understand the Scandinavian, pre-Christian concept of landscape and mythology” (Brink 2001, 77). In his article “Mythologizing Landscape: Place and Space of Cult and Myth” (2001), he ties theophoric place-name studies to the discussion of myths in early pre-Christian Scandinavia, substantiating these theories with the latest archaeological research. His overall conclusion is that, like place names:

11For a good discussion of the concept of central place and the emerging of the aristocratic rulership see Rood’s MA-thesis from 2017: Ascending the Steps to Hliðskjálf: The Cult of Óðinn in Early Scandinavian Aristocracy (Rood 2017, 35-43). 12For a detailed discussion of archaeological investigations at Uppåkra, Tissø, Lejre and Gudme see works such as “Kungsgård - kultsted –marked: Overvejelser omkring Tissøkomplexets struktur og funktion” (cf. Jørgensen 2002); “En storgård fra vikingetid ved Tissø, Sjælland: En foreløbig præsentation” (cf. Jørgensen 1998); “Gjort og ogjort i Uppåkra” (cf. Larsson 1998); “A Building for Ritual Use at Uppåkra, Southernmost Sweden” (cf. Larsson 2001); and “Uppåkra: Research on a Central Place. Recent Excavations and Results” (cf. Larsson 2002); “Lejre beyond legend: the archaeological evidenc (cf. Christensen 1993); (see also the articles in Reallexikon der Germanischen Altertumskunde: Hårdh 2006, 516-520; Jørgensen 2005, 619-624; Andersson 2001, 248-249; and Christensen 2001, 249-254; Thrane 1999, 142-148). 32 these myths are connected with certain physical features in the landscape, objects that, owing to their perpetual presence, makes [sic!] the mythical stories not only to be remembered but also in a way function as sanctions or witnesses to these myths (Brink 2001, 79).

In general, it might be said that Brink re-established theophoric and cultic place name studies in Scandinavia after the lull that had been brought about by the work of Olaf Olsen and Jöran Sahlgren, effectively expanding the role of onomastics to consider wider networks of places and spaces and their connections to archaeological finds.

3.3.2 Per Vikstrand Further developments were brought about by Per Vikstrand, a student of Stefan Brink’s who went on to teach at the department of Scandinavian Languages in the University of Uppsala, Sweden. Vikstrand’s important thesis, Gudarnas Platser: Förkristna sakrala ortnamn i Mälarlandskapen was defended at the University of Uppsala in 2001, and has since been followed up by a number of articles.13 As a means of limiting eligible place names for his study, Vikstrand stresses four criteria that can be used to identify pre-Christian sacral place names as has been pointed out in Chapter 1.2. Like Brink, Vikstrand considers space as a social product and argues that the turning of a space into a “place” includes at least three components: “a geographic locality, a name, and a meaning content” (Vikstrand 2001, 418). Theophoric place are thus places linked to some sort of religious belief, which provide us with potential “linguistic material that can serve as a reliable source for research into the history of religion” (Vikstrand 2001, 418) since they “bind religious beliefs to the landscape” (Vikstrand 2001, 418). The aim of Vikstrand’s thesis was to create a firm basis for others to undertake further research into theophoric place names which are “a normal and frequent element of toponymy” (Vikstrand 2001, 418) and to “delimit and evaluate a corpus of potential sacral place-names within an area selected for study” (Vikstrand 2001, 418). To semantically interpret such place names, Vikstrand argues, toponymic environment and the relation of

13 Vikstrand’s articles such as “Förkristna sakrala ortnamn i Jämtland” (1993), “Jämtland mellan Frö och Kristus” (1996), “Place Names: Sacral Place-Names in Scandinavia” (2002), “Odens och Tors berg: om förkristna sakrala ortnamn i Skandinavien” (2004), “Names and Religion: An Introduction” (2013), and “Disevid och Distingen - spar av östnordisk diskult?” (2014) clearly show that his main interest lies in the field of sacral place-name studies and make valuable contributions to the ongoing debate. 33 landscape, community and name must always be taken into consideration (Vikstrand 2001, 418-419). As Vikstrand further emphasises, a large number of the names of Nordic settlements and farms evidently pre-date the Viking Age, meaning that those place names which appear to be sacral place names must be much older than was earlier thought. They thus cannot be expected to necessarily reflect religious aspects of the Viking Age, but rather an earlier world. All the same, as Vikstrand underlines, it is not always easy to decide which names belong to any one period. He stresses that if one wants to use theophoric place names to draw any conclusions about the Viking-Age worship of pre-Christian deities in Scandinavia, one must pay particular attention to those areas that were colonised by Scandinavians during Viking Age, such as Great Britain (Vikstrand 2016, 179-182). As Vikstrand also notes, reflecting ideas earlier stressed by Magnus Olsen, Jan de Vries and Stefan Brink, it seems clear that “[...] there are regional differences that might reflect real distinctions in rituals and beliefs” (Vikstrand 2016, 182), something particularly evident in the comparative absence of Óðinn in the North Atlantic area, including Iceland and the Faroe Islands, underlining a strong contrast to southern Sweden, Denmark, the area around modern-day Oslo and parts of England. Vikstrand also underlines that the place-name evidence seems to point to a clear distribution regarding those words designating sanctuaries, such as hof and hǫrgr, which primarily occur in western Scandinavia, and then vi, which is not found in the North Atlantic islands at all, something that suggests that the latter word might be somewhat older (Vikstrand 2016, 178- 182). For Vikstrand, it seems evident that place names “could be seen in the light of the notion of cultural paganism” (Vikstrand 2016, 182), something which “would probably make a name based on pagan narratives [...] socially acceptable, while names referring to ritual places and cultic activities may have met with disapproval” in later times after the acceptance of Christianity (Vikstrand 2016, 182). Vikstrand, like those who preceded him, is convinced that considerations of local context are vital as a means of deciding the role played by a cult site, in other words, bearing in mind the geographical siting and other place names and archaeological sites that surround the site in question (Vikstrand 2001, 419). For him, a typical Iron-Age location was “a prehistoric settlement with no signs of centrality or high status” (Vikstrand 2001, 428), the centre of the community commonly being first of all a place with central ritual significance that is typically indicated by a sacral place name, and then an aristocratic centre, consisting of a central-name

34 (see previous chapter and Brink 1998) surrounded by certain recurrent names indicating “different functions in relation to the central site” (Vikstrand 2001, 428).

3.4 The History of Theophoric Place-Name Studies in the German-Speaking Area Jacob Grimm was certainly a pioneer in the fields of both linguistics and toponymy, but in actual fact, together with his brother Wilhelm (1786–1859) he dedicated his life to a wide spectrum of German literary studies, including philology, ethnology, mythology, and folklore, the two coming to be considered as the founders of ancient . Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm became famous after thepublication of their Kinder- und Hausmärchen (Children’s and Household Tales; today known as Grimm’s Fairy Tales) in 1812-1815 (cf. Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm 2013); Deutsche sagen (1816-1818) and the first volume of Deutsche Wörterbuch (‘German Dictionary’) in 1854. The phonetic law of the first consonant shift, also known as “Grimm’s Law”,14 represents another important achievement in the field of German linguistics. Jacob Grimm’s most important contribution to the field of German studies was nonetheless his historical-comparative masterpiece Deutsche Mythologie (German Mythology) from 1835 (cf. Grimm 1875). This attempt to reconstruct the shared mythology and religion of the German people by means of folk tales, folk beliefs and folk customs, as well as linguistic studies and place-name research, is still highly respected among scholars today. By comparing German mythology to the Scandinavian traditions, Grimm stresses the mutual value of his work for both of these fields. As noted above (see Chapter 3.0), this work is equally valuable as it represents one of the first detailed discussions of theophoric place names of the German-speaking area, comparing them to Scandinavian and English place names. As Grimm points out: “In welchen ländern die verehrung des gottes am längsten haftete, läßt sich aus den ortsbenennungen erkennen, die, weil ihm die stätte geheiligt war, mit seinem namen zusammengesetzt sind” (Grimm 1875, 130-131) (the countries in which the worship of a god has lasted for the longest period of time can be seen from the place names which contain compounds with his [the god’s] name, because [they show] the site was dedicated to him [the god]). As de Vries later notes: “[...] war eine Sammlung der theophoren Ortsnamen für die Erforschung der heidnischen Kultzentren von größter Bedeutung. Grimm hatte schon den Anfang gemacht, aber das südgermanische Material ist nicht besonders ergiebig” (de Vries

14 See Christian Lehmann’s (University of ) homepage for an introductory explanation of “Grimm’s Law”. 35 1956, I, 67) ([…], the collection of theophoric place names was of great importance for the study of heathen cult centres. Grimm had started this, but the South-Germanic material is not very revealing). Addressing Grimm’s important groundwork for the wide spectrum of German philology, Debus notes: “[…] hat er den Weg bereitet für die weitere Namenforschung die in wissenschaftlichem Zugriff Namen auf der Basis ihrer historischen Belege und deren kritischer Wertung bei sicherer Kenntnis der historischen Sprachstufen zu erklären sucht [...]” (Debus 2012, 17). ([…] he paved the way for further name studies, which, from a scientific approach, seek to explain names on the basis of their historical sources and their critical evaluation using the certain knowledge of the historical language levels). Based Jacob Grimm’s ideas, Ernst Förstemann (1822-1906) produced Altdeutsche Namenbuch, which would play another significant role in the development of the field of onomastics in the German-speaking area. Förstemann’s extensive work consists of two volumes, the first of which includes Old German personal names (1954), while the second volume covers Old German place names (1859). The third revised edition (1913) would become an indispensable encyclopedia for onomastical research, also serving as tool for the examination of potential theophoric elements in place names, that has continued to be used until the present day (cf. Förstemann 1967, I and II; see also Schwarz 1950, 10; and Bach 1953, I: 8). Despite Förstemann’s great efforts, the revision and development of this work has never been completed (Udolph, 2003, 234). As noted in Chapter 2.0, Wilhelm Arnold (1826-1883), too, was aware of the value of place names as the earliest linguistic source and his work Ansiedlungen und Wanderungen Deutscher Stämme zumeist nach Hessischen Ortsnamen (The Settlement and Migration of German Tribes on the Basis of Hessian Place Names’) from 1875 was one of the first studies to puts the place names into a socio-historical context, attempting to examine the different layers of place names and their affiliations to certain tribal groups. As Arnold notes: “Es gilt, die Namen als Geschichtsquelle zu behandeln, zumal für die ältere Zeit, wo es an anderen Quellen fehlt” (Arnold 1881, 6) (It is important to treat the names as historical source, especially for older periods, where other sources are lacking). In this context, Arnold also tried to explain German place names that had potential pagan connotations, although today his attempts at explanation see rather adventurous (Arnold 1881, 63). The same applies to his arguments about tribal connotations: Schwarzsuggests that Arnold’s attempt to assign

36 different types of names to specific tribes turned out to be an impossible task (Schwarz 1950, 10). Adolf Bach (1890-1972) would later take a highly critical stance to Arnold’s attempt at allocating Hessian place names to certain Germanic tribes using vernacular- and word- geographical methods (Bach 1953, 11; see also Debus 2012, 19). His systematic research appeared between 1943 and 1954 in his two-volume work Deutsche Namenkunde, which firmly underlined the study of onomastics as a linguistic discipline (Bach 1953, 16-17). Here Adolf Bach dedicated a whole chapter to the examination of place names in the light of pre- Christian cult sites (Bach 1953, 409-411), giving a precise description of those name-elements that have potential pagan connotation, such as the OHG harug, the Anglo-Saxon alah, the OHG loh, and the OS wīh (see further Chapter 5.2.2.1) (Bach 1953, 409-410). During the time of the Third Reich, the Dutch scholar Jan de Vries (1890-1964) came to be one of the most well-versed scholars of German studies, as his numerous books and articles focusing on Norse and , religion, and literature prove. His extensive work Germanische Altertumskunde (1935-1937; revised in 1956, reprinted in 1970), in which he incorporated a comprehensive discussion of theophoric place names (see de Vries 1937, 15, 100-113, 207-209, 247-249, 271-275), madeinly focuses on the theophoric place names of Scandinavia but also addresses those few found in the German-speaking area, is still relevant today (Quak 2006, 651-654). Despite the unsolved question of de Vries’ political support for Nazi ideology15 (see also (Würth 1999, xiii), de Vries work is still seen as a valuable achievement. While he uses place-name evidence to underline his arguments, he de Vries nevertheless, recognised the difficulties of their interpretation with regard to chronology and dating (de Vries 1937, 207-209). Addressing the earlier noted discrepancy of literary accounts in comparison to place-name evidence with regard to gods and cult, de Vries points out: “Die

15 With regard to the research that originated during the period of the Third Reich, it is important to bear in mind that from the middle of the nineteenth century up until the post-war period after, toponymy in Germany was often connected to ethnical and political discussions, something especially clear in the publications of the so- called interdisciplinary Volks- and Kulturbodenforschung (folk and cultural soil research) (Dix 2015, 28). Considering the political history of Germany in the nineteenth and twentieth, it is not surprising that place names and the renaming of places repeatedly played a somewhat controversial role in the nation-building process. This question still requires further examination (Dix 2015, 28-29). There is, however, little question that the renaming processes that occurred as result of conquests and war, and the misinterpretations of older place names as part of the predominant Nazi ideology strongly influenced German-speaking toponymy before and during World War II. It led to many rash and weakly scientifically substantiated conclusions about the settlement history which came into being in line with the ideology of the regime. This naturally makes the evaluation of studies from this period rather difficult (Ranzmaier 2005, 137-144). In spite of this, de Vries’ work retains respect. 37 Erklärung dieses Widerspruchs ist nicht, daß die Ortsnamen die Wahrheit, die Literaturwerke nur Dichtung enthalten, sondern vielmehr, daß hier die Verhältnisse sehr verschiedener Zeitalter wiedergespiegelt werden [...]” (de Vries 1970, 46) (The explanation for this discrepancy is not that the place names contain the truth, [while] the literary works only poetry, but rather the fact that very different periods are reflected here). Comparing the Scandinavian place-name evidence to the situation in the German-speaking are, De Vries notes:

In einem merkwürdigen Gegensatz zum Reichtum [religiöser Ortsnamen] auf dem nordgermanischen Gebiet steht die Armut im deutschen Raum. Hier hat man auf Ortsnamen [...] hingewiesen, die [...] eine Verehrung [...] voraussetzen, aber nicht die bedeutsame Verbindung mit der Siedlungsgeschichte und der gesellschaftlichen Organisation aufweisen, wie das in Skandinavien der Fall ist. Man darf aber wohl hoffen, daß genauere Untersuchungen noch weit mehr an den Tag bringen werden [...] (de Vries 1970, 49).

(In odd contrast to the abundance [of religious place names] in the northern Germanic area, we find scarcity in the German area. Here, reference has been made to place names [...] which […] imply worship, but [these] do not show the significant relationship [they have] to settlement history and the social organisation as this is the case in Scandinavia. We may hope, however, that detailed investigations will bring much more to light [...]).

As in Sweden and Denmark in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s, the study of theophoric place in the German-speaking area faced a long drought until scholars at last started to revitalise this field of studies. In recent years, several scholars have nonetheless returned to the field of theophoric place-name studies, such as Jürgen Udolph, who, as noted earlier, has repeatedly paid attention to this field. Udolph is an absolute professional in the broad field of Germanic place-name studies, something demonstrated by articles such as “Kultische Namen – Kontinent” in the Reallexikon der Germanischen Altertumskunde (2000), which contains a profound summary of his recent considerations (Udolph 2000, 415-425). Another important figure in this field is Wolfgang Laur, who might be said to be most important scholar studying sacral place names within the German-speaking area in recent years, special attention being given to the theophoric place names of Schleswig-Holstein and Hamburg. Laur’s dissertation Germanische Heiligtümer im Herzogtum Schleswig im Spiegel der Ortsnamen und Ortssagen (1949), and other publications such as Historisches Ortsnamenlexikon von Schleswig-Holstein (1967) and most importantly his work Germanische

38 Heiligtümer und Religion im Spiegel der Ortsnamen: Schleswig Holstein, nördliches Niedersachsen und Dänemark (2001) are of particular importance for the field of Germanic theophoric place-name studies, as this thesis will show. Laur’s highly detailed study from 2001 focuses on a diversity of aspects. Focusing on higher mythology, he gives a profound overview of the etymological and linguistical origin of not only the deities mentioned in place names (see also Chapter 5.1) but also those elements are found in word compounds using these names (see also Chapter 5.2) in the German place names (Laur 2001, 79-102). Laur’s subsequent interpretation of the German theophoric place names follows several steps, which include discussing the terms used for natural features in light of their relevance as potential pre-Christian cult sites, also incorporating the evidence of archaeological finds into his examination. Looking at the distribution of the place names in question, some of his main results of this study include the assumption that, considering the comparatively frequent occurrence of names connected to the god Wodan in the areas in question, these place names must have continued to be important after the process of Christianisation, something which aided their survival. With regard to the god Týr who seems to have been commonly represented in the formerly Danish-speaking regions of Germany, Laur underlines that no evidence can be found for this deity in German theophoric place names, something that also applies to the other forms of the name Tiu and Ziu. He also points out that there seems to be no evidence for female deities in German theophoric place names (Laur 2001, 199-201). All in all, it might be said that Udolph’s and Laur’s works guide the way for future study of theophoric place names in Germany. Along with the work on the Swedish scholars noted above, they will serve as a guideline for this thesis.

3.5 Other Relevant Toponymic Studies in Europe As Gelling noted in her article “Recent Onomastic Work in Great Britain” from 1994/1995, at that time place-name studies were “generally more highly organised and further advanced than personal name studies” (Gelling 1994/1995, 19) in Britain. British place-name studies are embedded in the English Place-Name Society (founded in 1923) based at Nottingham University (Gelling 1994/1995, 19), and certainly, in contrast to the toponomastical research that has been carried out in the German-speaking area, by the 90s British place-name scholars had indeed made great scientific progress in understanding the relationship between theophoric English place names and the religious concepts known by the Anglo-Saxon and

39 later Viking settlers. This material is accessable today through the so-called Leverhulme Research Project, a data base which includes various works “on the rich vocabulary of and old Norse place-names” (Gelling 1994/1995, 19). Gelling who was based at Birmingham was one of the leading place-name scholars of Britain, and frequently discussed theophoric place names in the British area that seemed to have Anglo-Saxon or Scandinavian roots Key works in this regard are Gelling’s articles “Place-Names and Anglo-Saxon Paganism” from 1962, “Further Thoughts on Pagan Place-Names” from 1973 and “The Evidence of Place- Names” 1976, which provide a good overview of the theophoric place names of the English area seems to contain the names of pre-Christian deities Woden, Thunor and Tig/Tiw. These articles contain invaluable reference material that can be effectively compared with the German theophoric place names in the following chapters (as will be noted in Chapter 5) as the Anglo-Saxon names can be assumed to reflect traditions brought from home by the settlers (cf. Gelling 1962; Gelling 1973; Gelling 1976). Another key figure in English place-name studies, now based in Denmark is Gillian Fellows-Jensen who has also been engaged in this field of study and produced a number of valuable works (cf. Fellows-Jensen 2000; Fellows- Jensen 2013; see also Chapter 3.1.3). Also of obvious relevance here is the Dutch area which has formed the subject of several recent investigations regarding theophoric place names by scholars such as Arend Quak and Claudia Boshouwers. In his article “Germaanse sacrale plaatsnamen in de Nederlanden” from 2002, Arend Quak pays special attention to the Germanic material within the Dutch place- name evidence noting these place names that seem to have theophoric background (cf. Quak 2002). This study was followed up by Claudia Boshouwers in 2013, whose work “Pagan Toponyms in the Netherlands” touched upon Quak’s findings by backing them up by comparing them with reference material from the English and Scandinavian areas (cf. Boshouwers 2013).

40 4 Historical Context: The Christianisation of Continental Europe and Scandinavia

4.1 Europe before Christianity: The Roman Empire and the Germanic Tribes In order to talk about the Christianisation of Central Europe and to decide which areas of the German-speaking world are of relevance to our discussion of Germanic place names with pre- Christian connotations, it is important to start by saying something about the early history of Germanic tribes, their relationship to the Roman Empire and their migration. Regarding our knowledge about pre-Christian Europe, Bartlett notes:

When we use the term ‘Christianization’ as a label for this process, we seek to designate a transformation and hence imply a ‘before’ and an ‘after’. In the context of northern and central Europe, the ‘before’ is the world of indigenous European paganism, the ‘after’ is medieval Christian Europe. We know a lot more about the ‘after’ than the ‘before’. [...] When we turn to the ‘before’, the situation [of available sources] is quite different (Bartlett 2007, 47).

While this is true, we certainly still have a number of contemporary resources, based not only on archaeology but also on written sources which naturally almost entirely reflect the inside perspective of the Roman Empire where the written culture was already well- developed in comparison to that of the indigenous people of Central Europe (Simek 2005, 23- 24). As Bartlett notes, though other literary sources take the form of writings of contemporary Christian observers or retro-perspective scripts written centuries after this period which are often based on oral memories. The written material in question thus frequently appears biased, meaning that conclusions about the various tribes inhabiting continental Europe and Scandinavia in pre-Christian times are highly uncertain (Bartlett 2007, 47-48). The surrounding context is much more detailed: we know that the Roman Empire began as a republic after the overthrow of the Roman Kingdom around 470 BC and lasted until 27 BC at which point Augustus (63 BC-14 AD) became the first emperor who established the Roman Empire. The first two centuries of the Empire were a period of stability known as Pax Romana (LAK vol. 3. 1993, 121), the empire reaching its greatest territorial expanse during the reign of Trajan (53-117 AD) (see Figure 1). It was later separated into the Western and Eastern Roman Empires in the year 395 AD, these two halves being divided between the two sons of Emperor Theodosius I (347-395 AD). The Western Roman Empire came to an end in 480 AD after it collapsed with the fall of Ravenna to the Germanic Herulians and the deposition of Romulus

41 Augustulus (c. 459-unknown) in 476 AD by Odoacer (c. 430-493). He was an officer of the Western Roman army of Germanic descent who proclaimed himself King of at the time of the death of Iulius Nepos (c. 430-480) in 480. The Eastern Roman Empire, also known as the Byzantine Empire, continuously demanded its claim over the western part, and did not collapse until Constantinople fell to the Ottoman Turks of Mehmed II (1432-1481) in 1453 (Faroqhi 1993, 470; Howorth 1878, 308-309; LAK vol. 1. 1990, 243; LAK vol. 2. 1993, 349; LAK vol. 3. 1993, 55, 274-285, 298, 553, 514, 678).

Figure 1: The Roman Empire at its greatest expanse around the 1st/2nd century AD (LAK vol. 3 1993, 282).

Within the German-speaking area, the river-systems of the Rhine, which runs from modern Switzerland to the Dutch North Sea coast, and of the , rising from the middle of Germany’s Black Forest and running down to the , are roughly considered as the main borders to the Roman Empire. The areas located on the left bank of the Rhine as well as south of the Danube were thus seen as Roman territory and subject to Roman political and cultural impact. Archaeological evidence witnessing to the growth and blossoming of towns located within these areas testify to this process. Although some scattered Roman towns are to be found here and there to the right of the river Rhine and north of the Danube, these areas were never under constant Roman control. They were home to numerous independent, mainly Celtic and Germanic tribes. The societies occupying these regions remained organised

42 in tribal structures, most residing in small settlements far from urbanity (Wolters 2000, 63-76; Krause 2002, 129-131). The contemporary key sources in Greek and Latin talk especially about “Germanic people” living on the opposite shore of the Rhine. Wolters notes that Iulius Caesar (100-44 BC) in his De bello gallico (Caesar 1980) and Tacitus (c. 58-120 AD) in his Germania (Tacitus 1993, 90-91) both use the term for any group of inhabitants of the eastern regions of the Rhine:

Die von Caesar [...] übermittelte Definition rechtsrheinischen Bewohner als Germanen sowie ihre gemeinsame Charakterisierung bestimmen das gesellschaftliche Wissen und auch die konkrete Politik Roms für Jahrhunderte [...] und wurde selbst dann noch benutzt, als die Gebiete links des Rheins längst fränkisch besiedelt waren (Wolters, 2000, 20).

(The definition given by Caesar for all the inhabitants of the right bank of the Rhine [...] as Germanic people, as well as their common characterisation, defined the social knowledge and the concrete politics of Rome over centuries [...] and was still in use even when the areas left of the Rhine had already been inhabited by .)

This idea of an ethnic Germanic group is essentially a political and ideological construct which draws on the ethnographic tradition of the Romans, which had been adopted from earlier Greek sources (Carroll 2003, 10). The definition, introduced by Caesar, is based on the longstanding consolidation of the river Rhine as a political border between different peoples. In fact, the of the Germanic people16 did not happen until after the time of Caesar (Wolters 2000, 21) in the West, starting in the eastern Northgermanic lowlands around 400 BC. From an archaeological point of view, the so-called Jastorf culture17 (from around 600 BC – 350 BC) which emerged further east around the lower areas of the river is considered to represent the earliest “actual” Germanic culture (Seebold 2012, 252). These people were only found sparsely in the Rhine-area in Caesar’s time. Arguably the “Germanic

16The ethnogenesis of the Germanic people is considered as a polycentric event which was caused by interaction among the members of the same ethnic group and their ability to communicate. The awareness of a shared identity developed by means of similar traditions and cults and the subsequent delimitation from outsiders (Timpe 1998, 194). 17Modern scholarship uses the definition “” as a collective term for those tribal groups that used similar burial methods around the time of the end of the period, simultaneous to the La Tène period. The cultural area in question spread across northern Central Europe stretching from modern Hannover to the North Sea, and over to Schleswig-Holstein and Jutlands and from Mecklenburg and to , Silesia and the area. The various groups associated with the Jastorf culture nonetheless varied with regard to burial rites, material culture and settlement patterns. Many were partly influenced by the La Tène culture and are seen as representing the starting point for the heterogeneous development of the various Germanic tribes (Müller 2000, 43-55). 43 people” as such developed later under the influence of the Celtic La Tène-culture18 (LAK vol. 2. 1993, 69). This means, as Wolters points out:

daß die keltische Kultur als eher vorangehende, nicht der germanischen zeitlich parallelstehende Kultur, somit sowohl zur Ausbildung der Germanen im Osten wie der jetzt von römischen Einfluß geprägten gallischen Kultur im Westen beitrug. Es zählt zu den besonderen Eigentümlichkeiten dieses Vorgangs, daß der Germanenbegriff Caesars somit der eigentlichen Ethnogenese der “Germanen” vorausgegangen ist, und es fragt sich, inwieweit man überhaupt von einem einheitlichen “Germanentum” sprechen kann (Wolters 2000, 21).

(that the Celtic culture should be considered as preceding, rather than being contemporary to the Germanic culture thus contributing to the development of both the Germanic tribes in the east as well as the Gallic culture to the west which was shaped by Roman influence. It is a feature of this process that Caesar’s “Germanic-term” actually preceded the ethnogenesis of the “Germanic people”; the question is: to what extent we can ever talk about a uniform “Germanic culture”?)

18Archaeology identifies the period of the last five centuries BC as “La Tène period”. The name derives from the archaeological site of La Tène north of the Neuenburger See in Switzerland, which was unearthed during the 19th century and is considered to be a sacral site from the pre-Roman Iron Age. The La Tène culture contains the archaeological legacy of a particular Celtic culture, which originated within the area of the Alps and spread over large parts of Europe including modern France, Belgium, Austria, Southern Germany and to the east as far as Slovenia and . The genesis of the La Tène culture took place at the same time as the development of the western part of the . We need to bear in mind however that the Celtic culture was not uniform and changed a great deal over the centuries due to the movement of different tribes (Müller 2001, 118-124). 44 Figure 2: Germanic cultural groups during the pre-Roman Iron Age and during the 1st/2nd century AD (Pingel 1998, 969-970).

The self-image of the indigenous peoples of Central Europe certainly varied from the Roman conception. As Wolters suggests, Caesar and Tacitus simplified the ethnographic situation when they only distinguished between Celtic and Germanic people, but some uncertainty about who was of Celtic and who of Germanic descent prevailed among most Roman citizens. Indeed, while the Rhine certainly separated Romans from “barbarians”, it did not strictly separate the Gauls from the Germanic people. Even the Roman historians recognised that not only Germanic but also Celtic people were living to the east of the Rhine (Scardigli 1998, 245-246; Wolters 2000, 18). In cultural terms some of the clans presumed to be of Germanic descent actually show a great similarity to the Celtic people. All in all, it is clear that Tacitus’ generalised expression Germani referred to a large number of very different tribes, few of which considered themselves to form a larger ethnic group or even had any similar identities (Tacitus 1993, 90-91; Carroll 2003, 143-144). In both cases, there was a great deal of regional variation within related ethnic groups (LAK vol. 2. 1993, 69; 437). The Celtic culture, however, with its early achievements in metalwork and craftsmanship, had been setting new standards for centuries and had attracted the Germanic people as a role model much as the Romans did in later times. As Krause points out:

45

Hätte Caesar nicht die freien gallischen Keltenstämme unterworfen und damit der Romanisierung ausgesetzt, wären die Germanen vielleicht immer keltischer geworden. Tatsache ist, dass die römischen Legionäre der keltischen Kultur in Gallien ein Ende bereiteten und dass die unterentwickelten germanischen Stämme das Ziel ihrer Wünsche verloren. Gleichzeitig gewannen sie mit Rom ein neues. Dessen Einfluss wurde von nun an entscheidend für die Entwicklung der Vielstammeswelt im Norden (Krause 2002, 23).

(If Caesar had not subdued the free Gallic-Celtic tribes and consequently exposed them to Romanisation, the might have steadily become Celtic. In fact, the Roman legionaries put an end to the Celtic culture in Gaul and the underdeveloped Germanic tribes lost their desired goal. At the same time, they found a new one in Rome. From now on its influence became crucial for the development of the diverse tribal world in the north.)

So what exactly distinguished the Germanic from the non-Germanic tribes? Despite the multifaceted nature of their cultural communities, it is clear that certain shared features of their way of life, their religion and culture, and first and foremost their related languages, underlined the key differences between the Germanic and other ethnic groups. While almost all the European languages are related to each other and that can be traced back to one common Indo-European tongue, the Germanic language19 seems to have developed as a subcategory of the Proto-Germanic language, which itself is estimated to have originally evolved from the Indo-European language during the period between 1200 and 300 BC (Hutterer 1975, 46; Ringgren and Sröm 1959, 143). This shared linguistic feature of the Germanic tribes, however, did not necessarily mean community awareness. The numerous tribes suffered from regular quarrels and armed conflicts, their alignment to other groups not happening because of families and other connections but rather because of the prospect of booty, money and territory. The increasing attraction of the Celtic civilisation nevertheless inspired many of the linguistically connected tribes later named “Germans” to move to an area that promised them a better life. This led to the onset of the so-called Germanic migration around the year 375 AD (see discussion below) (Krause 2002, 24-25).

19In differentiating between languages, the idea of mutual comprehensibility that is the ability to understand a language on the basis of the knowledge of one’s own language, has a central role. The degree of comprehensibility, which ranges from effortless to occasional understanding, is naturally dependent on various factors, such as practice and/or intonation (Seebold 1998, 276). 46 Figure 3: The distribution of Celtic and Germanic tribes prior to the Migration Period and their estimated migratory routes (Putzger 2003, 48).

It must nonetheless be borne in mind that there had always been a constant cultural exchange between the and Germans and between the Roman Empire and the various tribes, migration and border-crossing also taking part as various ethnic groups attempted to settle within or outside the Roman Empire, something which naturally instigated wars between the different tribes and between them and the Romans. As Carroll notes: “feindliche wie freundliche Beziehungen bestanden während der ersten Jahrhunderte n. Chr. nicht nur zwischen diesen beiden Völkern [Gallier und Germanen], sondern auch zwischen ihnen und den Römern (Carroll 2003, 14) (during the first centuries AD, hostile as well as friendly relationships existed not only between these two peoples [the Gauls and the Germanic people] but also between them and the Romans). 47 In the late 2nd and early 3rd century AD, increasing attacks on the Roman Empire by tribes beyond the Roman borders show that a major restructuring of the Germanic world was under way. Powerful tribes appear to have decayed into smaller groups, old tribes vanished and new ethnicities developed, like that of the (Carroll 2003, 145, LAK vol. 2. 1993, 73). According to the generally accepted , the persistent conflicts between the Roman Empire and hostile tribes reached their peak around the year 375 AD when the Migration Period set in. As suggested above, the Germanic tribes had long been characterised by migration, but this now reached new dimensions. Diverse tribes, such as the Huns20 and the , began pushing from the east towards the Roman Empire and within a few decades, these overwhelmed Rome, playing a significant role in changing the face of the Empire. A turning point was the Battle of Adrianople in 378, when the Roman army was defeated by the Visigothic forces. This led to more and more tribes losing their fear of the strength of Roman forces and passing through the Empire, something which even led to the plundering of the city of Rome in the year 410. The Roman Empire was clearly no longer able to oppose its invaders. A special arrangement made between Rome and other tribes was therefore drawn up at this time which allowed immigrating people to adopt a third of the land of all provinces, something which opened up the west to the multitudes surging forward from outside the Empire to flee the approaching Huns (Krause 2002, 147-158). While it is generally possible to distinguish between regionally summarise five main groups of Germanic tribes during the 1st century AD (1. the Scandinavian tribes; 2. tribes settling in the coastal regions of the North Sea and Jutland; 3. tribes settled along the middle course of the Rhine and Weser; 4. tribes settled in the middle area of the Elbe; and 5. tribes settled alongside the Oder and Weichsel), their continuous movements during the following centuries and the Migration Period, marked a territorial expansion of these groups (LAK 1993,

20The Huns were a folk of horsemen coming from Central Asia during the late 4th and the 5th century AD. They added further pressure on the ongoing migration by creating fear and upheaval among the European population who were already having to “deal not only with the Roman Empire but also with less politically organised societies, such as the Germanic, whom they mobilised in their strategy against Rome and Byzantium” (Hedeager 2011, 211). Their intention was never to take over land but rather to control areas or even kings and their followers, weakening their power by making them allies. Drawing on the support of material finds which have certainly been influenced by Hunnic ideas, Hedeager argues that the Huns’ influence on Central Europe not only involved military activities but also increasing cultural changes which contributed to this overall restructuring as they seem to have became an immediate opponent and alternative to the growing Christianity. For a short period of time, the Huns gained political supremacy combined with a consolidation of religious power, wealth, art, myth and ritual something which was brought about by military means which included constant movement and fast action. With their extraordinary brutal behaviour, the Huns certainly contributed to the expulsion of particular tribes from the area (Hedeager 2011, 191-198). 48 82). During the 5th century, many Saxons together with a large number of Angles and , moved from their territories near the North Sea and the south-eastern shores of Jutland and the shores of the Baltic to Britain. At about the same time, other Germanic tribes, mainly the Franks, the ancestors of the , and other closely related groups from the Rhine-Weser-area, pushed into the west of the Roman Empire and established the Frankish Empire where the Celtic Gauls had formerly lived. At the same time, the Alemanni and Bavarians from the areas alongside the Elbe moved to the south, and in 568, the (earlier Langobards) invaded northern Italy and established a realm there, an event which marked the end of the Migration Period as it is generally accepted today (Anton 1981, 481- 482). The Goths, and meanwhile appear to have migrated southwards from their previous settlement areas around the Oder and Weichsel, some such as the Vandals even moving as far as to the Black Sea and even to North Africa (LAK 1993, 82). This new wide Germanic world underlined the existence of groups that were not only culturally but also linguistically distinguished, many of which migrated to different areas (see Figure 3), while others remained in their earlier homelands (Anton 1981, 481-482).

4.2 The Migration Period: The Angles and Saxons Move to Britain Contemporary source material concerning the period of the earlier noted Anglo-Saxon colonisation of Britain, which occurred simultaneously with the collapse of the Roman authority in this area and peaked with the onset of the organised Christianisation, is very limited. This period is thus considered as the least understood chapter of the British history (Uebach 2003, 19). This circumstance is partly due to the fact that these people coming from mainland Europe were largely illiterate. However, we also lack reports from other learned contemporary authors, familiar with the British circumstances. This means, historians have to rely largely on retrospective reports originating in later centuries, along with other material, primarily archaeology and linguistic research, if we wish to draw a vague picture of the initial Anglo-Saxon settlement. These fragments, however, only loosely support the evidence of the later written records (Laing 1979, 22; 108; Uebach 2003, 19). One of the most important reports about the settlers coming to Britain was written by the historian Bede (c. 673-735), who first discussed those who later came to be called Anglo- Saxons (Beda 1997; ODCC 1958, 149-150). According to him, the Anglo-Saxons were largely descended from the Continental Germanic tribes: a few were Frisians and some stemmed

49 from Jutland, but the majority were Angles and Saxons originating from an area between the river Ems and the Baltic (Beda 1997, 58; LDG 1998, 1095). This is supplemented by the many versions of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, presumably written during the reign of Alfred the Great (849-899), which has become another valuable source on Britain’s early history and the settlement of the Anglo-Saxons (Ingram (ed.) 1912, 23-33; ODCC 1958, 36). Recent linguistic research has nonetheless confirmed and supplemented Bede’s information about the origin of the Angles and Saxons, also stressing the numerous similarities between the Old English and Old Frisian languages. The assumption of an Anglo-Frisian protolanguage which broke down through the emigration of the Angles to Britain has nevertheless been outdated. As Sjölin notes:

Die Kritik wies vor allem darauf hin, daß sich ein näherer geschichtlicher Zusammenhang zwischen Friesen, Angeln und Sachsen schon vor der Auswanderung der beiden letztgenannten Stämme nach Britannien [...] nicht nachweisen läßt und daß die gemeinsamen sprachlichen Erscheinungen nicht nur auf das Ae. und das Afries. beschränkt sind, sondern auch in altsächsischen Texten vorkommen (Sjölin 1973, 329).

(Above all, the criticism pointed out that a closer historical connection between Frisians, Angles and Saxons can not be proved [for the period] before the two latter tribes emigrated to Britain, [...] and that the common linguistic phenomena are not limited to the Old English and the Old Frisian, but also occur in Old Saxon texts.)

All the same, by the 6th century, it is evident that the inhabitants of the coastal regions of both sides of the Channel, were evidently engaged in intense cultural contact with each other as archaeological as well as toponymic facts have since proven (Sjölin 1973, 330). The Romans had inhabited Britain between the 1st and the 5th century AD, and during the 4th century, the part of the Roman Empire on British territory (the province of Britannia) roughly stretched over modern England and Wales. The north-western regions, beyond Hadrian’s Wall, were protected by Roman military stations where the Roman troops regularly faced attacks of Celtic tribes. The Roman territory nonetheless had to deal with numerous attacks mainly led by Picts and the Scoti from the Scottish and Irish regions of today from the end of the 3rd century onwards (Howorth 1878, 297), the Scoti later moving to today’s Scotland which still carries their name (Krieger 1990, 31). As in other countires these outside regions nonetheless came under Roman influence (especially agriculture which profited from Roman techniques and imports), although the population there cannot be considered to have 50 become “Romanised” at this time. The southern areas clearly flourished, as the archaeological remains of several Roman villages and villae (typical Roman houses in the countryside), from the period, prove (Kireger 1990, 28-29; Sawyer 1998, 61; Uebach 2003, 14). According to recent estimates, the Roman cultural centres appear to have been inhabited by approximately three or four million people (Ward-Perkins 2000, 522). It can nevertheless be assumed that the majority of inhabitants were of British descent with Roman citizenship (Campbell 1991, 11; Uebach 2003, 14). Due to other people moving in from the continental parts of the Roman Empire, a mix of different and ethnics can nonetheless be expected. Indee, while Christianity certainly reached the colonies of , helped by its enhancement to a state religion, this did not set an end to heathen practices (Krieger 1990, 33). During the course of the 3rd century, Germanic seafarers, stemming from the estuary of the river Weser and Denmark were already beginning to haunt the Roman civilisation of Britain, meaning that, by the end of the century, a military zone including numerous forts, had been established at the southwestern coast of Britain (Laing 1979, 28-29; Sawyer 1998, 1-2; Uebach 2003, 16). All the same, the more critical that Rome’s circumstances on the mainland became, the more Britain had to rely on the military abilities of the local commanders. Eventually the Roman control over Britain finally collapsed, as the Picts, Scots and Germanic tribes from the mainland jointly invaded the civil areas initiating a war on several fronts. It was only with great difficulty that the invaders were overcome with the help of additional Roman troops, which crossed over from the mainland just in time. In the year 401/402 however, Rome was forced to remove its forces from Britain in order to defend the continental part of the empire against the earlier-noted attacks of the . Without any organised defence of their land, the population of Britain soon sank into chaos, local chieftains taking the place of Roman leaders in an attempt to restore safety and order. This dissolving process of the Roman civilisation encouraged both new settlements and the blending of old and new cultural structures (Krieger 1990, 31). The large wave of migration by the Germanic tribes to Britain (see Figure 4) has been set to some time between the late 4th and the early 5th century (Howorth 1878, 297-299; LAK 1990, 124). Archaeological finds prove that a close relationship continued to exist between the Germanic homelands and Britain up to the 6th century (LAK 1990, 124). At first, this process seems to have taken place as part of a long-running but peaceful development, since as noted above Germanic auxiliaries had by this point already been settling among the British

51 population (LAK 1990, 124). The incoming people soon blended and interacted with the local population, and together they began producing a new culture. The distinction between earlier tribal origins soon grew unclear to their neighbours and over time all of them came to be called “Saxons”, although as Sawyer points out, “the descendants of the immigrants themselves recognised that while some had Saxon ancestry, especially in the kingdoms of the West, South and East Saxons, others in the Midlands and the North were Angles [...]” (Sawyer 1998, 2). By the 8th century, the Germanic people of Britain themselves used both terms interchangeably. The general preference of the term “Angles” nonetheless led to their language being called Englisc and their kingdom being named England (Kuhn 1973, 304-305; Sawyer 1998, 2). As Sawyer further notes:

The term Anglo-Saxon, often used by modern scholars for the period before the Norman Conquest of England, was apparently coined on the continent to distinguish the Saxons (or Angles) of Britain from the Old Saxons who had remained in their continental homeland (Sawyer 1998, 2).

Figure 4: A visual representation of the migration of Germanic tribes to Britain (Laing 1979, xii).

The Germanic invasion peaked during the 5th century, when the initial peaceful process moved to a phase of military upsurge. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle reports that Saxon forces

52 under the lead of a certain Aella (unknown-867) landed on the British south-east coast in 477 and forcefully advanced into the inland of the island (Anglo-Saxon Chronicle 1912, 57; see also Howorth 1878, 303-304; Krieger 1990, 37; LMA 1980, 181). Archaeological evidence indicates that other invasion efforts took place in this period around the estuary of the Thames as well as along the eastern coast. It seems that at this time and during the following centuries, the British people put up a fight against their aggressors but eventually, the Germanic intruders evidently successfully displaced a large section of the inhabitants to the west, while others were urged to move to Brittany (Krieger 1990, 37; LAK vol. 2. 1993, 73). As Howorth has noted: “We must remember that the beginning of the sixth century was synchronous with the occupation of Central and Northern Gaul by the Franks. [...] We thus find the Saxons in the earlier half of the sixth century, making a descent upon the Channel Islands, where, judging from the topography, they must have settled in large numbers” (Howorth 1878, 318-319). From the 6th century onwards, partly under Scandinavian influence, seven Anglo-Saxon kingdoms had been established in Britain: Kent, Sussex, Essex, Wessex, East , Mercia and Northumbria, the foundation for a centralised state not have laid until the time of King Egbert (771/775-839) (LAK 1990, 124; LMA 1986, 1599-1600). It nonetheless seems evident that the Anglo-Saxons did not dissolve into a mass like the Germanic tribes had done in the other Roman provinces. They appear to have forced their own language on the conquered areas and their population thereby maintaining their Germanic cultural character (Ward- Perkins 2000). Christianity undoubtedly reached the British Isles no later than by the beginning of the 3rd century. It was nevertheless, around another 100 years before it finally got the opportunity to spread throughout this region (Krieger 1990, 33, ODCC 1958, 28-29, 88). When King Æthelberht (unknown-616) was baptised in 597, Christianity’s triumph was finally sealed (LMA 1980, 187; Sanmark 2004, 34). All in all, the Anglo-Saxon migration to Britain is an outstanding example of Germanic tribes settling within inhabited areas among other ethnicities and introducing their culture there. This development is of particular interest for the discussion of place names that will come later in this thesis, as Britain has a great number of theophoric place names of Germanic origin (Gelling 1976, 205). This naturally makes it valuable for a comparative discussion of the place-names found elsewhere in the homelands of the Saxon people in Central Europe.

53 The following discussion will thus consider the difference between the settlement of Britain by the Anglo-Saxons and the settlement of the Germanic tribes elsewhere in Continental Europe. It will also consider the diversity of Anglo-Saxon theophoric place names in Britain in contrast to the comparative lack of sacral Germanic place names in Europe. Bryan Ward-Perkins has tackled this issue among other things in his paper “Why Did the Anglo- Saxons not Become More British?”, which will be discussed in order to shed light on the place- name situation. As Ward-Perkins stresses the fall of the Roman Empire caused the fast collapse of the British-Roman society and a rapid de-Romanisation during the transition of Britain from being part of the Roman Empire to becoming Anglo-Saxon. He feels this may be the most important factor explaining Britain’s development at this time (Ward-Perkins 2000, 529). Despite the long-lasting resistance of the Romano-British population against the Anglo- Saxon invaders noted above, it seems evident that the Roman way of life and Latin literacy vanished almost completely from the island during the 5th century (Ward-Perkins 2000, 522). This is supported by archaeological evidence: some areas of Britain that had been densely settled during the Roman period show no evidence of habitation during the 5th, 6th and 7th century and provide only sparse finds from the 8th and 9th century. A greater density of artefacts does not come to light until the 10th and 11th century onwards. This implies that the Germans encountered a society in chaos (Härke 2012, 452). In contrast to this, Ward-Perkins stresses that during the Frankish invasion of Gaul during the late 5th century, there was much more borrowing as he notes: “When invaders find a culture that they feel to be superior to their own, they borrow heavily and readily from it”21 (Ward-Perkins 2000, 530). In Gaul, the Franks encountered a powerful rooted Latinised culture, heavily influenced by Rome and here, despite being Germanic pagans at the time of their arrival in imperial territory, it seems that they quickly adjusted to their new environment rather than attempting to dominate it (Ward- Perkins 2000, 517). In short, while the Frankish invasion of Gaul was characterised by influence going in two directions, the Anglo-Saxons’ conquest of Britain shows a particularly extreme case in which “the cultural change all occurred in one direction, in favour of the conquerors” and “the Anglo-Saxons remained very Anglo-Saxon” (Ward-Perkins 2000, 526).

21Ward-Perkins underlines other parallels in the Arabic conquest of the post-Roman world of North Africa and and the where millions of people converted from Christianity to Islam during the 7th and 10th century, putting away their cultural identity by changing not only their faith but also their language (Ward-Perkins 2000, 525). 54 Despite experiencing a harsh invasion which took many victims, it seems that the large majority of the British population must have become subjects to the new Anglo-Saxon rulers (Ward-Perkins 2000, 522). Archaeological evidence again supports this theory: in the area of South England, between 29,5 and 82,4 percent (with an average percentage of 47) of the graves of male immigrants dating to the 5th or 6th century show weapons. In contrast, the graves of Brittonic males from the same period do not have any weapons. This evidence points to a disproportionate number of migrating people in England making it likely that a great number of native British people were now settling away from the Anglo-Saxon invaders in isolated enclaves, which, for the most part, from an archaeological point of view, remain invisible (Härke 2012, 447-449). All the same, as Catherine Hills stresses, the dead do not always serve to mirror the living. She raises the key-question: “were those buried without grave-goods too poor to have any possessions, or were the Britons continuing late Roman burial practice, or Anglo-Saxons converted to Christianity?” (Hills 1993, 310). According to Ward-Perkins, it seems nonetheless clear that the Anglo-Saxons never became “British” as the “Germanic invaders absorbed very little of the native culture of Britain; and [...] they even termed the Britons ‘wealas’, or ‘foreigners’, in their own island” (Ward-Perkins 2000, 514). It is evident that they neither accepted the Latin nor the native Brittonic language and initially remained pagan, something which is confirmed by a number of theophoric place names in this area. Despite the fact that the majority of Britons had already been Christianised during the 5th and 6th century (Härke 2012, 453; Ward-Perkins 2000, 515). Hills, however, stresses that place-name scholars have shown that the number of British place names among those recorded before 730 AD,22 is much higher than in later records. As he notes:

This modifies one of the arguments against significant British survival, which has always been the apparently complete disappearance of the British language in the east. English did, of course, displace British: but it may have taken a long time to do so (Hills 1993, 312).

On the continent, meanwhile while the Frankish invaders were also proud of their ethnic identity which they certainly introduced to their new environment, they seem to have rapidly adapted several cultural aspects from the peoples of this area. This included both the new

22For further discussion, see Gelling, 1988; and Cox, 1976. 55 religion (Christianity) and the local language, a late Latin which eventually evolved into modern French (Ward-Perkins 2000, 517). According to Ward-Perkins, a last aspect which helps explain why the native people of those areas of Britain conquered by the Anglo-Saxons lost their “Britishness” could be the vehement resistance made to the Anglo-Saxon invasion by the Welsh, after their settlement of Wales. This helped antoganise the feeling of the Anglo-Saxons to the British. He again compares this situation to that of the Gallo-Romans, who:

may have done badly militarily, but this may have aided the survival of Gaulishness, by making the gallicization of the Franks a less threatening, and therefore an easier experience. For the Franks, becoming a Christian [...] did not mean taking on the religion, and part of the identity, of an enemy (Ward-Perkins 2000, 529).

In short the “Gallo-Romans became ‘Franks’ and even widely adopted Frankish personal names, but at the same time the Franks became culturally gallo-romanized” (Ward-Perkins 2000, 517). Place names however, did not change to the same extent as personal names. This fact might be linked to place names being deeply rooted in time and culture, and shared while personal names are individual and relatively interchangeable, and are to a greater extent more exposed to cultural influences, fashion, and potential changes for personal gain. It is clear that while the Anglo-Saxons did adopt some older native place-names, especially those of rivers, mountains and important fortified sites (Cox 2014, 375), they did not absorb any of the native language (Ward-Perkins 2000, 514).23 The majority of existing British place names from this period were nonetheless newly created by the Anglo-Saxons who “used their own word-hoard to describe their new environment and burgeoning settlement” (Cox 2014, 375). As Gelling stresses, even if a great number of Old English place names:

are in fact translations or adaptations of British names, the Anglicization of the place-name stock, whether by adaptation or new coinage, is in striking contrast to the earlier failure of Latin and the later failure of Norman French to have a similar effect (Gelling 1976, 201).

23Place-name evidence also shows that whole regions untouched by the Anglo-Saxon invasion, such as Devon and Cumbia, nonetheless seem to have somehow come under Anglo-Saxon influence (Ward-Perkins 2000, 521). 56 Gelling further adds:

there is a consistent relationship between the degree of transformation of the place-names and the numbers and social status of the people speaking a new language. To bring about a change of language in most of the place-names, the number of the newcomers must be relatively high and the social status of the majority of them relatively low (Gelling 1076, 203).

This fact might nonetheless support another easier explanation: The rapid colonisation of this area by a fast-growing population bringing their own language to their new environment would have naturally resulted in a great number of Anglo-Saxon place names used for all the new farms and villages established during this period in this area (Rudolf Simek: Personal communication, 21.03.2019). This evidence, which will be further analysed in Chapter 5, underlines something else: that during the 5th century, the majority of the Anglo-Saxon population and those under direct Anglo-Saxon control must have been pagan (Ward-Perkins 2000, 524). Ward-Perkins even suggests that “the sixth century may well have been a period in which paganism was spreading rapidly as part of the process of anglo-saxonization of the native British population,” even if this Anglo-Saxon paganism was gradually moving closer to Christianity through regular contacts with the new religion (Ward-Perkins 2000, 525). Gelling dates the pagan place names to the period between 600 and 700 AD, suggesting that:

the distribution pattern [of names referring to sites of pagan religious worship] indicates a date of coinage near the end of the pagan period, and that places with this type of name are those where the pagan religion lingered longest, rather than those where it was earliest or most strongly established (Gelling 1976, 205).

4.3 The Process of Christianisation in Central Europe In spite of what Gelling writes, the large number of extant surviving myths and customs that have an origin in the Nordic countires (rather than Germany) suggests that paganism in pre- Christian Scandinavia must have survived longer than in Central Europe. In the preface to the second volume of their Deutsche Sagen (1818), the Brothers Grimm noted that their compilation of material from the Germanic countries was meagre in comparison to that surviving in Scandinavia. Their explanation is that:

57 Die Unstetigkeit der meisten übrigen Völkerschaften, Kriege, teilweiser Untergang und Vermengung mit Fremden haben die Lieder und Sagen, der Vorzeit gefährdet und nach und nach untergraben. Wieviel aber muß ein Volk besessen haben, das immer noch solche Spuren und Trümmer aufzuweisen vermag (Brothers Grimm 1818, VI).

(The discontinuity of most of the other peoples, wars, partial decline and blending with strangers, endangered and gradually undermined the songs and legends of the past. How much must people have possessed, that it is still able to show such traces and remains.)

In Central Europe, it seems that local cults were rapidly forgotten and displaced and later presumably suppressed as part of the process of Christianisation (something that seems to have occurred with the destruction of (see Chapter 4.4). Indeed, it is noteworthy that the surviving written records do not pay the same attention to pre-Christian customs and beliefs as these in Scandinavia, possibly because “paganism” in this area started losing status as a religion in many of these parts as early as the 4th century (Berend 2007, 11). The extent to which the pre-Christian beliefs and traditions of the tribes in Central Europe were transformed into Christian ideas and motifs by the Christian authors is, nonetheless, still debated among scholars.24 The material finds from pre-Christian times with religious connotations are certainly much richer in Scandinavia than in Central Europe where interpretation is frequently very difficult owing to the early overlapping of Christian and “heathen” practices, as well as borrowing of cultural features from other cultures. As Berend points out, we also need to bear in mind that:

In terms of beliefs and practices, in all regions under investigation we have no or little evidence of a separately organized religion with doctrine and gods, but rather of local populations with practices linked to natural features such as sacred trees or springs, divination of different sorts and sacrifice (Berend 2007, 11).

Christianity had reached Rome by the 1st century AD. It went on spreading from Asia Minor into the western Mediterranean region and from there continued to expand to the

24It has regularly been suggested that in many cases, pagan traditions were effectivly altered to Christian ones in many parts, following the approach suggested by Gregory to Mellitus in Britain (c. 597 AD):

[...] tell him [Bishop Augustine] [...] to wit, that the temples of the idols in that notion ought not to be destroyed; but let the idols that are in them be destroyed; let water be consecrated and sprinkled in the said temples, let altars be erected, and relics placed there. For if those temples are well built, it is requisite that they be converted from the worship of devils to the service of the true God (Bede). 58 north (König 2008; 28). As Berend points out with regard to the difficulty of dating the arrival of Christianity in the Germanic area and the degree of influence, we need to bear in mind that:

[...] dating is derived from the conversion of rulers. These ‘official’ conversions did not immediately entail the Christianization of the population even in an institutional sense, let alone in the sense of an internalization of beliefs. Nor, however, did they necessarily mean the forced conversion of the population. In some case before, while in others after, the ruler’s conversion, Christians and pagans coexisted in more or less easy or uneasy ways for a while. These official conversions however signal what in these cases turned out to be the point of no return, after which [...] religious change progressed in one direction only, toward Christianization (Berend 2007, 2).

The process of conversion in Central Europe and thus large parts of the former Western Empire has been roughly dated to the period between 300 and 750 AD. The extensive area covered by the Roman Empire with its well-developed infrastructure during the the first centuries of the period, as well as the certain level of stability and legal security the Empire maintained, ensured a relatively easy spread of the Christian religion. Its general openness to various cultures and other religious beliefs also provided excellent conditions for the mobility of people and their ideas as long as their adherents showed the required respect to the discipline and the welfare of the Roman Empire (König 2008, 28-29; Rayner 1942, 1). In short the overall aim of the first Judeo-Christians in the Empire was to “create a Christian society, irrespective of race, creed, or colour, within the existing framework of the imperial Roman world” (Rayner 1942, 1). In terms of the Christianisation of the numerous Germanic tribes, we can assume that the Goths were some of the first Germanic tribes to come into contact with early Christianity, meeting Arian believers25 during the course of their migration towards the Black Sea during the 2nd and 3rd centuries AD (Dietz 1998 (1), 1163-1164). Wulfila (c. 311-383) was the first Gothic bishop, and by the year 348 he had translated the into the Germanic language, providing an effective foundation for the mission to the other Germanic tribes (cf. Streitberg (ed.) 2000). By 380 the majority of the Visigoths had been converted (Simek 2005, 73). From there, Christianity soon spread over to the other Germanic tribes. By the 4th and 5th centuries,

25The early Arian form of Christianity seems to have attracted the Germanic tribes due to its hierarchical organisation with Christ presenting a role model for humanity but being of secondary relevance to God the Father (Seibt 1996, 1077-1079; Simek 2005, 74). The more the Catholic Church was consolidated to become an Imperial Church during the 4th century, however the more Arianism was pegged as heresy and consequently excluded from the general body of the Church (Schubert 1911-1913, 120). 59 it presumably had reached all of them with the exception of the Alemanni and Franks (LAK/2 1993, 19; Dietz 1996, 429-430; Simek 2005, 74). The Ostrogothic tribes, which were settled in in around 380, were probably among the next tribes to convert to Christianity, sometime during the 5th century, the Ostrogothic king Theoderic the Great (471-526) evidently being baptised before his conquest of Italy in 495 (Simek 2005, 75; Wolfram 2005, 415-419). Indeed, the , who formed part of the Ostrogothic tribes, had migrated from the area around the Weichsel to modern Transylvania, pushing towards the Roman Empire and settling north of the Danube at a result of the Huns’ arrival in 375 (Von Bredow 1998, 946-947; LAK/2 1993, 66-67), and the late antique historian Procopius (c. 500-562) describes them as being followers of the Arian belief, something they had presumably adopted from their Visigothic neighbours (LAK/3 1993, 200; Procopius 1954). The Lombards meanwhile left their homelands at the Lower Elbe during the 4th century, moving southwards into the area of modern Lower Austria, where parts of the tribe were Christianised during the 5th century, their king following suit only after a later migration to the area of the Tisza at the beginning of the 6th century (Simek 2005, 76). Lombard graves dating to the middle of the 6th century certainly contain early Catholic gold foil crosses, showing the first stages of the change from Arianism to Roman Christianity which took place from around 650 onwards (Simek 2005, 76). The mission to the Vandals had particular success, as a result of their merger with the during the 1st century in the area of modern Silesia before they too fled the Huns during the 4th century, going on to settle in modern Spain during the early 5th century. At this point, they seem to have already become Arian (Waldherr 2002, 1121-122). The kingdom of the Vandals was, nevertheless, characterised by internal religious disputes which took place between the Arian-Germanic upper class and the Roman-Catholic population (LAK/3 1993, 595; Simek 2005, 76-77). The Burgundians had inhabited the area at the lower course of the Oder and Weichsel from about 200 onwards, later, in the late 3rd century, moving to the area of modern Worms where they took over the land which had recently been abandoned by the Alemanni (LAK/1 1990, 392-393; Dietz 1996, 429-430). The arrival of the Huns caused them to take up a new settlement area west of Lake Geneva alongside the Rhône. It is unclear exactly when and

60 where they adopted Christianity, but this was presumably through contacts with the earlier noted Gothic tribes (Simek 2005, 77). The Rugians who had been forced towards Rugia by the Goths appear to have settled in the northern parts of modern Austria around the middle of the 5th century (see Figure 3). It is still unclear exactly where they came into contact with the Arian religion, but they seem to have vanished alongside the during their march against Italy in 546 (LAK/3 1993, 301; Simek 2005, 77). The , who were expulsed from Scandinavia in the beginning of the 3rd century, meanwhile, seem to have become partly Arian and partly Roman-Catholic before 490, echoing the Franks who came into contact with Arianism before King Clovis was baptised in 496 (Dietz 1998, 504-505; Simek 2005, 78). Evidently, the influence of Arianism on the Germanic tribes during the Migration Period cannot be underestimated. Although none of these Arian kingdoms lasted longer than the 6th century, it is clear that the new religion managed to reach all the Germanic tribes between the late 3rd and the 5th century. It can, nonetheless, be expected that these Germanic tribes probably adapted a specific “Germanised” form of Christianity (Simek 2005, 78; cf. Russell 1994). All the same, it should be borne in mind that, as noted above, it was commonly the rulers of the various tribes who first adopted the new religion in hope of political advantage. This means that, as in the Nordic countries, this was a form of “top-down conversion” (Sanmark 2004, 39-40). Indeed, Sanmark notes that rulers and missionaries seem to have developed a symbiotic relationship:

Rulers who wished to spread Christianity to other areas, or who wished to make their kingdom Christian, used missionaries for their own purposes. Such rulers were of course dependent on missionaries for performing religious functions. It is however clear that missionaries were subordinate to rulers in their work. Rulers inaugurated conversion by giving social and material rewards to those who were baptised. They issued legislation in support of Christianity. They also provided protection and material aid to missionaries. The members of the aristocracy were moreover important for widespread conversion, particularly through the building of churches and monasteries (Sanmark 2004, 64).

Due to the loyalty that had to be pledged to their rulers, this meant that their followers also became formally Christian, although often without changing their habits and customs. In short the common people were little affected in their daily lives by the new hierarchical structures that came with the change of the religion, (Döbler 1975, 97). 61 All in all, it seems clear that the pre-Christian religions in the Germanic areas slowly blended over time with Christianity which only gradually started to prevail (Krause 2002, 181- 197; Wolters 87-88). This religious syncretism in the German area was reflected among other things in Franconian burial practices. As Krause describes:

Ursprünglich hatten die Franken die Verstorbenen verbrannt. Während des langen Kontaktes mit der römischen Zivilisation übernahmen sie die Sitte, Tote in einem Sarkophag bzw. einem Holzsarg zu bestatten. Um ihren Verblichenen im Jenseits ein Weiterleben zu ermöglichen, gaben sie ihnen Gegenstände ihrer Lebenswelt mit ins Grab. Die katholische Kirche hingegen verbot die Beigabensitte [...]. Trotzdem dauerte es nach Chlodwigs Taufe noch mehr als zweihundert Jahre, bis den Toten nichts mehr mit ins Grab gelegt wurde (Krause 2002, 197).

(Initially, the Franks had burned their deceased. Over the course of the long- lasting contact to the Roman civilisation, they had adopted the custom of burying the dead in a sarcophagus or rather in a wooden casket. To provide their deceased with an afterlife in the beyond, they had put objects from their living environment into their graves. The Catholic Church, however, forbade the custom of grave goods [...]. It was nonetheless still over two hundred years after Clovis’ until the dead were no longer given any more grave goods.)

This is a good example of the religious overlapping and blending that seems to have developed in the German area during the first centuries AD. The beliefs and customs of local tribes clearly involved an increasing blend of Germanic, Celtic, Christian and Roman elements, a variety of ideologies, differences, over time becoming blurred. Furthermore, as Gunnell points out:

[...] a number of shared concepts may well have existed across this area (not least on the basis of a shared form of language), the reality would have been that a wide range of religious world views were in existence, rather than any single set religion. [...] These religious world views would have varied by time, place and society, under the influence of environment, social structure and ways of life [...] (Gunnell 2013, 154).

As Russell notes, the process of Christianisation means not only the official conversion from one religion to another, but also a process of ideological and behavioural modification on the part of individual persons who would have had to gradually drop old patterns of behaviour and start engaging with a whole new lifestyle and perspectives. In short:

62 One does not expect to find the same level of religious motivation or devotion distributed evenly throughout a social group. It may be assumed that case studies of the religious development of exceptional individuals are not usually representative of the religious development of their peers, especially in regard to the aspect of intensity. [...] standards of societal conversion often consist of the number and social status of those persons who are baptized, and the degree to which they accept ecclesiastical custom and discipline (Russell 1994, 28).

Just as the pre-Christian religions of Europe had been varied and developed from different backgrounds, the development of Christianity was not the same everywhere. As Russell points out:

The early medieval Germanization of Christianity [...] was not the result of organized Germanic resistance to Christianity, or of an attempt by the to transform Christianity into an acceptable form. Rather, it was primarily a consequence of the deliberate inculturation of Germanic religiocultural attitudes within Christianity by Christian missionaries. This process of accommodation resulted in the essential transformation of Christianity from a universal salvation religion to a Germanic, and eventually European, folk religion (Russell 1994, 39).

The apparent reinterpretation of traditional Christian ideologies in accordance with the existing Germanic world-views (as seems to have occurred in Anglo-Saxon England and Ireland) may have helped the acceptance of the new religion among the Germanic tribes (Russell 1994, 39-40). Religious overlapping thus seems to have taken place in two directions: first of all, Christianity adapting to the needs of Germanic people and then the inclusion of Christian ideas into the Germanic world-view. With regard to place names, Russell’s approach implies a lenient approach by early Christianity in these early stages, something which would appear to speak against the enforced modification of place names. All the same, as noted above considering the gradual process of multidimensional religious blending, it is difficult to generalise about religious change in certain areas, or periods. Considering the earlier noted continental movement of the Germanic tribes, the relative absence of Germanic place name material in comparison to Roman influenced names throughout the German-speaking area, which this thesis will underline, is perhaps understandable. Roots seem to have been shallow, and given the fact that the majority of Germanic tribes came into contact with Arian Christianity at some point during their migration, this may well have hindered the establishment of new pagan places of worship

63 over the course of their travels. One might also consider the influence of other ethnicities. As Müller notes, we have to bear in mind that:

Ein wichtiges Resultat, das auf einer inzw. gezielt systematisch u. planmäßig betriebenen Unters. geogr. größerer Siedlungsareale beruhte, bestand in dem nun auch . erbrachten Nachweis dafür, daß kontinuierliche Besiedlung (Platzkontinuität) nicht automatisch mit Bevölkerungskontinuität gleichzusetzen ist (Müller 2000, 52).

(One important result, based on a systematic and planned investigation of larger geographical settlement areas, has been the archaeological proof that continual settlement (continuity in terms of place) does not automatically equate to continuity of population.)

Regarding the continuity of place names, Watts notes:

we seem to have three kinds of continuity to consider – continuity of site, continuity of occupation and continuity of name. A break in the third is quite compatible with the first, but careful investigation of individual instances is needed before one can happily say it is compatible with the second (Watts 1976, 215).

As the following chapter shows, another factor to bear in mind was the arrival of Charlemagne in the mid 8th century.

4.4 Charlemagne the “Saxon Slayer” and “Father of Europe” After the disempowerment of the Franksih Merovingian dynasty (which was replaced by the ancestors of the Carolingian dynasty in around 639 AD) through the anointment of the Carolingians by the Pope in person, the coronation of Charlemagne (742/747/748-814) (Schieffer 2000, 244, 249) in the year 768 eventually set the seal on the triumph of Christianity as the prevailing religion in Central Europe, and especially in the Carolingian Empire (see Figure 5). According to historians and the Vita Karoli Magni (written in the 9th century), Charlemagne was a Christian of Frankish blood, who tried to emulate the Roman Empire but apparently still maintained the traditions of his own nation (cf. Einhard 1911). His reign, however, was shaped by dispute and war, and especially in connection with the Saxons, who formed a part of the empire at this point but remained firmly attached to their heathen traditions. They would long be a thorn in the side of both the Church and Charlemagne whose

64 intention was initially not to convert these tribes but rather to achieve peace and security in his own realm by putting these heathens in their place (Schieffer 2000, 245-248). Without a doubt, Christianity represented the greatest difference between the Franks and the Saxons, and missionaries had long been unsuccessfully trying to convert the remaining pagan Germanic tribes settled in the north-eastern regions of Charlemagne’s empire (that is large parts of central Europe). It was only when Charlemagne got involved in the late 8th century, that Christianity began to gain a foothold amongst these people, the Saxons (Fleckenstein 1991, 956; Krause 2002, 210-219, Schieffer 2000, 244). 772 saw the onset of Charlemagne’s Saxon Wars, which lasted about 30 years. These wars were exemplified by the destruction of Irminsul in the same year, a wooden image which, presumably, took the form of an enormous tree trunk, rising high into the sky (LDG 1998, 1097). According to our two main sources, the Vita Laurissenses (late 8th century) and the Vita qui dicuntur Einhardi (early 9th century), Irminsul was apparently considered by locals to be the pillar supporting the axis of the world (Annales Laurissenses 1826, 150; Einhard 1826, 151). This revered symbol was located in the south of the Saxon territory (near in Obermarsberg) and served as the heart of their main sanctuary (Fleckenstein 1991, 957; Krause 2002, 219; LDG 1998, 640-641; Schieffer 2000, 245, Simek 1993, 175). The Vita Laurissenses describes Charlemagne’s encounter with the Saxons and their sanctuary as follows:

Tunc domnus Carolus mitissimus rex sinodum tenuit ad Warmatiam. Et inde perrexit partibus Saxoniae prima vice, Eresburgum castrum coepit, ad Ermensul usque pervenit et ipsum fanum destruxit et aurum vel argentum, quod ibi repperit, abstulit. Et fuit siccitas magna, ita ut aqua deficeret in supradicto loco, ubi Ermensul stabat; [...] (Annales Laurissenses 1826, 150).

(the Lord Charles, the kindest king, held a synod in Worm and after winning for the first time against part of the Saxons, he funded a fortified camp in Aeresburg, reached Ermensul and destroyed the temple; he wanted them to put out all the gold which was there. There was a great dryness, as if water was missing in the aforementioned place, where Ermensul was [...] (Based on a translation by Mikael Laffont.)

The Vita qui dicuntur Einhardi provides a similar account of the effects of the violation of the sanctuary:

65 Rex vero Karlus, congregato apud Wormaciam generali convent, Saxoniam bello adgredi statuit, eamque sine mora ingressus, ferro et igni cuncta depopulatus, Aeresburgum castrum coepit, idolum quod Irminsul a Saxonibus vocabatur evertit. In cuius destruction cum in eodem loco per triduum moraretur, contigit ut, propter continuam caeli serenitatem exsiccatis omnibus illius loci rivis ac frontibus, aqua ad bibendum inveniri non posset” (Einhard 1826, 151).

(But King Charles, after the general congregation held in Worms, decided to go to war against the Saxons, and he went there without delay, destroying all by iron and fire, he wanted them to build a fortified camp in Aeresburg [Eresburg], and wanted them to fell the idol called Irminsul by the Saxons. With this destruction, while they were in the place for three days, the place changed such a way that because of a perpetually quiet sky, in all the places around, the rivers and the springs were dry, and it was not possible to fetch drinkable water [Based on a translation by Mikael Laffont].)

It is evident that Charlemagne used this act in order to demonstrate total supremacy and shows his clear intention to wipe out the pre-Christian religions still practised in this area once and for all. As Krause points out:

Er wollte die Heiden im Innersten treffen und ihnen deutlich machen, dass ihre Götter nicht in der Lage waren, die Achse der Welt zu schützen. Er aber, Herrscher durch die Gnade des christlichen allmächtigen Gottes [...] konnte mühelos und ohne Folgen das Allerheiligste zerstören (Krause 2002, 219).

(He wanted to hurt the heathens at heart and emphasise that their gods were incapable of preserving the axis of the world. He, however, who was ruler by the grace of the Christian Almighty God, had the ability to effortlessly destroy the greatest sanctuary without any consequences.)

The confrontation with the Saxons became paramount for Charlemagne from 775 onwards. The increasing dimensions of the Franconian operations accompanied by the onset of the systematic process of Christianisation reflected Charlemagne’s mission to gain permanent control (Fleckenstein 1991, 957; Schieffer 2000, 245). When the longstanding disputes that were going on between Charlemagne and the Saxons failed to be resolved, the Frankish ruler decided to approach his opponents with even greater harshness and to force conversion on them. Most Saxon nobles soon accepted both his rulership and the new religion, taking part in public mass . Those who did not were brutally executed, bringing Charlemagne the reputation of “Saxon slayer” (Fleckenstein 1991, 957-958; Krause 2002, 219-223; Schieffer 2000, 245-246). On a more fundamental level, minor misdemeanours, such as the non-observance of the Christian customs or burial according to 66 heathen custom, were all punished with death. Those who remained unbaptised received no mercy and the same applied to anyone who was disloyal to their ruler in any other way. All Saxons were forced to pledge loyalty and convert to Christianity (Krause 2002, 223). A baptismal vow surviving from this period serves as testimony for the enforced conversion of the Saxons as well as underlining the gods they were to worship: “End ec forsacho allum diaboles uuercum and uuordum, Thunaer ende Uoden ende Saxnote ende allum them unholdum, the hira genatas sint” (Karlomanni Principis Capitulare 1835, 19) (I swear I will refuse all works and words of the Devil, Donar, Wodan, Saxnot and all the demons that are his comrades: Krause 2002, 224). It is noteworthy that no similar vow is known from Scandinavia. There is naturally good reason to consider whether the changing of place names like that reflected in the Irish Colloquy26 was part of this process, something which is arguably reflected in the forcible destruction of Irminsul. As Fleckenstein notes, these activities certainly show how Charlemagne gave special attention to the establishment of a uniform and organised religion in order to strengthen control over his empire: “K. hat sie [die Kirche] starker als zuvor in den Dienst des Reichs gezogen, sie dafür aber auch durch reiche Schenkungen belohnt und gestärkt” (Fleckenstein 1991, 959; see also Schieffer 2000, 248). (Charles placed [the Church] more intensively in the service of the Empire than before, but also rewarded and strengthened it with rich donations). It would nonetheless be two more decades before the Saxon area was eventually completely subdued and pacified in around 804 (Fleckenstein 1991, 958; Krause 2002, 225; LDG 1998, 1098). This was achieved not only by paying off the church but also by funding a network of under-rulers. As Sanmark notes: “Native leaders who accepted Frankish lordship, and thus also Christianity, were presented with positions of power and wealth.” Following this financial encouragement, the “Anglo-Saxon underkings and the Frankish rulers used more or less the same measures to spread Christianity, i.e. legislation, economic help to missionaries, and rewards to converts, although they administered these in slightly different ways” (Sanmark 2004, 38-39). All in all, the cultural impact of Charlemagne’s empire on European history, the development of the European nations and on the landscape as a whole seems to have been equally important to that of its predecessor, the Roman Empire. As Krause concludes:

26 Acallam na Senórach and Táin Bó Cúailnge are two Old Irish Colloquys surviving from the late 11th and 12th centuries, two legendary tales that both show the motifs of inventing and re-naming place name (cf. Harmon (ed.) 2009; O’Rahilly (ed.) 1967). 67 Dem Karolinger Karl war es mit brutaler Härte und gnädiger Milde gelungen, neben den gällischen und italienischen Romanen die germanischen Stämme der Franken, Sachsen, Alamannen, Baiern, Thüringer, Friesen und der weitgehend romanisierten Langobarden in seinem Reich zusammenzubringen. Als ihn Papst Leo III. am Weihnachtstag des Jahres 800 zum Kaiser krönte, knüpfte das Reich der Franken bewusst an die Tradition des Imperium Romanum an (Krause 2002, 226).

(Using both brutal force and merciful leniency, the Carolingian Charles had managed to unite the Gallic and Italian Romans with the Germanic tribes of the Franks, Saxons, Alemanni, Bavarians, Thuringian, Frisians and the largely Romanised Lombards as part of his empire. When Pope Leo III crowned him emperor on Christmas Day in 800, the kingdom of the Franks was deliberately linked to the tradition of the Imperium Romanum.)

Figure 5: The Franconian Empire at the time of Charlemagne (cf. Charpy 1993).

Charlemagne, who was already being called “the Great” by his contemporaries, due to his political and cultural unification of large areas of Europe, had come to be seen as the founder and ruler of a great realm that, even after the collapse of the Franconian empire in 9th century, continued to maintain a high degree of unity (LDG 1998, 641). It is important to remember, though, that the Franks never viewed their empire as a French or Germanic empire, but rather as the successor of the Roman Empire, thereby underlining the enduring influence of Roman civilisation, without which the Franks of the Merovingian empire would never have been able

68 to create their own cultural revolution (Krause 2002, 208-209). Arguably, by 804, the borders of Christian Europe and Christian civilisation had been effectively moved across the Germanic territories to the south of Denmark. As will be shown in later chapters, this seems to have also been reflected in the place names that marked out the landscape. With regard to the question of place names, it is now worth comparing the situation in the Germanic world with that in Scandinavia, where the process of the Conversion ran a similar course. The main question is: Why should pagan place names be more prevalent there?

4.5 The Christianisation of Scandinavia As has been shown above, continental Europe went through a gradual process of Christianisation during the first millennium AD. Christianity evidently took slightly longer to reach the Northern Germanic peoples in Scandinavia. Indeed, unlike in most part of Germany and Britain, the Christianisation of Scandinavia only began around the early 9th century (irrespective of the early syncretism since the beginning of the Viking Era in around 800 AD), coming to an end around circa 1200 (Foote, 1993, 106). We can assume that the Scandinavian tribes must have been in contact with the new religion by the early 9th century if not before as consequence of trade and the Viking raids. The Church then went on to be involved in not only the expansion of cultural centres like Ribe and Birka; in the introduction of a new financial system; and eventually in the development of the new Nordic kingdoms (see further examples, Brink 2008, 623; Foote 1993, 106; Simek 2005, 150; see also Rimbert 1884). By the end of this process, as Brink notes, Scandinavia had not only adapted a new model of society but also the culture of continental Europe: “The Christianisation is looked upon as part of a much larger cultural shift, which has sometimes been termed a ‘Europeanisation’, where Scandinavia adapted to a Continental situation.” He nonetheless adds that in the Nordic countries as in much of the Germanic area “we are dealing with a ‘top-down’ process, where first kings and chieftains adopted the new religion and Continental culture, which, eventually, trickled down in society over time” (Brink 2008, 623). In short, outside the political centres, there is good reason to question how deeply rooted the influence of Christianity was at first. As Gunnell points out, we must not forget that at the time when Christianity arrived, the Scandinavian peoples have not been divided into nations but still took the form of various tribes coming from different backgrounds, many of which were more isolated and more deeply entrenched in the local landscape than the other Germanic peoples to the south.

69 Furthermore, the conversion did not reach every clan with a single order from the top overnight:

Space and social organisation were not the only impediments to immediate change. Deep rooted religious change demands many things, and, most importantly, a long period of time, not least because changing religion means altering tradition, something else which is highly complex, often deep-rooted and backed up by a powerful degree of superstition (Gunnell 2013, 157).

The main sources on the process of Christianisation in Scandinavia are Rimbert’s Vita Anskarii (c. 865-876), Adam of Bremen’s Gesta Hammaburgensis ecclesiae pontificum (c. 1070), Saxo Grammaticus’ Gesta Danorum (after 1185) and the Icelandic konungasögur (12th/13th century) as well as a number of scattered notes in various Frankish and English annals (Adam of Bremen 1917; Rimbert 1884; Saxo Grammaticus 2015 and Brink 2008, 622). The Christianisation of Iceland is especially well documented in works like Íslendingabók, which was written in the early 12th century by the priest Ari Þorgilsson (1067-1148), Kristnisaga (13th century) and the Íslendingasögur (13th/14th century). (cf. Halldór Hermansson (ed.) 1966; Íslendingasögur 2011; Landnámabók 1968 and Lönnroth 2008, 304-306). As Brink points out, we must, however, bear in mind that: “Every one of these sources is marred by source-critical problems of various kinds; none has of course been written as a historical account on the basis of modern source-critical methods” (Brink 2008, 622). All the same, it is natural to consider why pagan theophoric place names should have survived longer here (and in Britain) than they did in the German speaking world. In recent years, scholars have tended to divide the Christianisation of Scandinavia into a number of phases, none of which were dissociated. As in the Germanic countries, both the “interaction with Christians in a nearby region or country and trade communication” (Gräslund and Lager 2008, 636) and the first missionary work which originated in mainland Europe and the British Isles (Brink 2013, 187-188) formed key features at the onset of the Christianisation-process of Scandinavia. Written sources such as aforementioned the Vita Anskarii (c. 865-876) suggest that the first churches on Scandinavian grounds which focused on mercantile centres can be dated to the 9th century (cf. Rimbert 1884; see also Brink 2013, 187-188), something that is backed up

70 by grave finds in these areas.27 Bishop’s sees were first established in Denmark in the early 12th century, and later in Norway and Sweden (cf. Rimbert 1884; and Sanmark 2004, 22). The archiepiscopal see in Lund was established in 1103/4, and later came to serve as the metropolitan see of all of Scandinavia for half a century (Foote 1993, 106). The episcopal see of Uppsala was established in 1164 and Nidaros in 1152 (Lindkvist 2008, 674). As Foote points out, Christianity and its modern approach to faith:

offered beliefs and practices that could answer in different ways to the religious forms and expectations of paganism, at the level of personal dedication and domestic cult, and, at a public level, in the ceremony needed to establish peace at assemblies and to make legal oaths effective. The Church could replace seasonal sacrifices and feasting with festivals, major and minor, of its own, and it introduced a perpetual cycle of intercession and a daily bloodless sacrifice for the well-being of all (Foote 1993, 106).

The new Scandinavian kingdoms (and especially their political centres) like those in the German-speaking world were soon infiltrated by intellectual clerics and bishops as well as supporting counsellors, and when the rulers eventually decided to abandon their old habits and religious customs in favour of peace with neighbouring countries and new trading links brought by Christianity at the end of the first millennium, the first step of the Conversion had been successfully completed (Foote 1993, 106). According to Foote, the last phase of the Christianisation of Scandinavia “lasted about 150 years in each of the northern countries. In

27Social shifts and religions are naturally commonly reflected in burial customs which allow us to view these changes chronologically. The changes in burial customs in Germany are usually traced back to external influence from the Roman Empire or Christianity but also, during the Migration Period, from neighbouring tribes which led to great regional variation (Simek 2005, 106-107). By the end of the , cremation and urn burial had become the most typical method of Germanic interment among almost all Germanic tribes, although burial existed alongside cremation burials from the Early Iron Age onwards (without any influence from the Roman Empire or Christianity.) The wholesale adoption of burial nonetheless underlines the gradual acceptance of Christian practice. In the areas to the right of the Rhine, cremation survived until the 5th century, other Germanic tribes, such as the Frisians and parts of the Franks maintaining this custom up until the late Merovingian period in the 8th century. The large burial fields (“Reihengräberfelder”) in the north-west show cremation existing alongside individual burial well into the 7th century (Simek 2005, 108). In Scandinavia, the use of burial mounds had existed since the Stone Age, and increased during the Migration Period. Over the Viking Age this burial custom, alongside chamber burials and opulent ship graves, became popular among the upper class in many areas of Scandinavia, while in others cremation continued to be used (Price 2008, 257-273; Simek 2005, 106-117). Over the course of religious transition, it is admittedly very difficult to decide whether a grave is Christian or pagan, but grave goods serve as indicators of pagan burial rites (Gräslund 2008, 639, Price 2008, 260). These subsequently “disappear with the conversion to Christianity at different times in different areas” (Pluskowski and Patrick 2003, 46) as the pre-Christian concept of afterlife conflicted with Christian ideas. From the 4th century onwards, Christian graves gradually show a new tendency reflected in east-west orientation, which again varied regionally and temporally (Gräslund 2008, 639-640; Fehr 2010, 750; Sanmark 2004, 43).

71 that time, dioceses were organized, churches built, clergy trained, native bishops consecrated, tithes introduced, parishes formed, monasteries founded, and cults of native saints instituted” (Foote 1993, 106). Denmark’s location in the very south of Scandinavia and its role as a crucial point for cultural exchange and trade between Europe and the north naturally resulted in continental influences entering this region first. Unsurprisingly, as in German-speaking area, the process of political unification of the country went hand in hand with the introduction of Christianity (Roesdahl 2008, 654-656), the final step taking place in the 960s with the baptism of King Haraldr blátönn (c. 910-987) who had ascended the throne in 958 (Rosedahl 2008, 656). In contrast, the Christianisation of Norway took much longer, although it seems that Norway’s coastal regions had already been infiltrated by Christianity by the 10th century (Welinder 2003, 520; Brink 2008, 626). The first attempts to bring missionaries to the country which took place under the reign of Hákon góði (c. 920-961) failed (Krag 2008, 648). It was only when the Christian Óláfr Tryggvason (c. 968-999/1000) managed to be accepted as king at the end of the 990s that the process of Christianisation set in, something which finally gained effective traction after the death of Óláfr Haraldsson (c. 995-1030), who later was given the name St Óláfr (Óláfr inn helgi) (Brink 2008, 623; Foote 1993, 106; Krag 2008, 648). Both Óláfr Tryggvason and Óláfr Haraldsson were ambitious kings, who, with the help of the Church, directed an aggressive conversion policy as Charlemagne had done (Foote 1993, 106). According to Heimskringla (cf. Snorri Sturluson 1934), many of those who refused to accept Ólafr Tryggvason’s demands were maimed, others violently executed, and some deported (see also Jón Viðar Sigurðsson 1993, 446). As Astås writes, the sme approach was taken by Óláfr Haraldsson who worked to establish his rule “with the Church as his ally and Charlemagne as his ideal” (Astås 1993, 445). Oddly enough, as Astås notes, sagas and later folk traditions show that unlike Charlemagne, St Ólafr Haraldsson, the Christian martyr, came to be worshipped in a very similar way to the deities of pre-Christian times that he had opposed:

He was ascribed features from Freyr, the god of vegetation, and from the thunder-god Þórr. Springs with healing water were said to have welled forth where the king or his body had been. Folk traditions about the king’s successful fight against trolls and giants proliferated. For centuries, the saint played a dominant role as protector against evil forces [...] (Astås 1993, 446).

72 This example clearly shows that in Norway, despite the violent efforts used to introduce the new religion, ideas from the pre-Christian past remained visible, something which pleads for their deep-seated roots among the society that would have been associated by the geographical nature of the country and other environmental factors which made it difficult to control. With regard to the Christianisation of Sweden, we do not have the same quality of medieval written sources (Lindkvist 2008, 668). Here, however once again, the first contacts with Christianity seem to have been through trade, and missionaries who presumably initially came from the British Isles, but were later more formally organised by the archbishopric of Hamburg and Bremen (Lindkvist 2008, 668-669). The Vita Anskarii (c. 865-876) certainly shows the earliest Christians settling among the growing urban population of Sweden, especially in the cultural melting pots of Birka before Ansgar’s first visit (Rimbert 1884; ODCC 1958, 62; Sanmark 2004, 21; Brink 2008, 623-624). Here, there seems to have been less violence. As far as the dating of the process of Christianisation in Sweden goes, Foote notes:

Most of the chief men in Västergötland and on were Christian by 1050. Pagan and Christian coexistence lasted longest in central Sweden. Members of the ruling dynasty there were baptized from about 1000 onward, and rune stones show that many well-to-do families were Christian and that churches existed (Foote 1993, 106).

Formally, however, Sweden did not accept Christianity as a whole until the 12th and 13th centuries, meaning that the old theophoric place names had even longer to deepen their root (Brink 2008, 626). Certainly, by the time Sweden had developed into a European monarchy, the clergy and the Europeanised aristocracy had already spent some time working together spreading Christian ideology among the growing society (Lindkvist 2008, 674). Here, however, once again, environmental factors will have meant that this process took long time. The Christianisation of Iceland is where pre-Christian custom had much shallower roots gives evidence of a more peaceful approach, similar in part to that adopted in Britain (cf. Beda 1997; Frend 2003, 81). Iceland had mainly been settled in around 870-930 by Norwegians but also – as DNA-tests have revealed – by Christian people coming from the British Isles (Jón Viðar Sigurðsson 2008, 571). Many of the first settlers had been in regular contact with the new religion or even been Christianised in Ireland before they arrived. It is evident that Christianity was able to gradually infiltrate the Icelandic society with little resistance, partly due to the

73 flexibility of the old belief system (Gisli Sigurðsson 2008, 564). It was eventually adopted by Iceland’s inhabitants in 999/1000 at the Alþing (Gunnell 2010, 115), with an agreement quite unlike that of Charlemagne’s in that private sacrifice to the old gods was permitted for the time being (Brink 2013, 193-194; Foote 1993, 107; Gunnell 2010, 115). As has been noted by Gräslund and Lager however, it is important to bear in mind that in the Nordic countries (as in the German-speaking area):

the conversion [...] was not a linear process, [...] we have to assume that the conversion advanced at different rates in different regions, and that all of these phases could occur simultaneously in different areas of the same country or region (Gräslund and Lager 2008, 636).

As has been noted above, however, it is very evident that pre-Christian beliefs and traditions did not disappear entirely in these countries. Certain concepts, ideas and everyday practices have evidently survived as part of superstition, syncretism and folklore to this day, in spite of the new Christian laws that were accepted in Scandinavia around the 11th century, incorporating Christian ideals and practices, under sanction from the kings. The theophoric place names nonetheless remained, as has been shown in the earlier review of scholarship in Chapter 3. As Laur suggests: “Nicht eine größere Toleranz der heidnischen Vergangenheit gegenüber ist es wohl, sondern eher die späte Christianisierung des skandinavischen Nordens, die uns hier eine weit größere Anzahl von sakralen Ortsnamen beschert hat” (Laur 2001, 23). (“It is not that a greater tolerance was shown towards the heathen past, but rather the late Christianisation of the Scandinavian north, which resulted in a greater number of sacral place names”).

4.6 Conclusion: Christianisation and Place Names If we return to the question of the comparative part of place names in the Germanic countries, a few key questions have arised relating to the influence of Christianisation of place names in the German-speaking area and the Nordic countries: Is it possible to assume that the Christianisation on Central Europe was more violent, and less forgiving than that in Scandinavia? Certainly, the process of Christianisation seems to have spread more peacefully in Sweden, Denmark and Iceland, if we can trust the written sources. Evidently, in the areas where rulers were less supportive of the new religion, such as the conversion made slow process. Geographical and environmental concerns also had a strong influence. As Sanmark 74 suggests, the “Christian rulers who wished to convert all parts of Sweden were presumably not powerful enough to employ forced baptism on the population in these areas, should they have wished to” (Sanmark 2004, 91). The same applied in Norway, where the conversion, especially during the reign of Óláfr Tryggvarson, ended up taking on violent tendencies similar to those employed in the conversion of the Saxons by Charlemagne, where people had to decide between baptism and death. The overall long-term effect of this was nonetheless questionable. As Stefan Brink stated in his chapter on the Christianisation of Scandinavia in The Viking World:

The new religion probably did not bring any immediate changes to people: the old chieftains and aristocratic families continued to be the social elite, people continued, as a collective, to participate in a communal ‘cult’, if not at the district’s old cult site, so in a church, which was sometimes erected on the old cult site; life continued on the whole as before, with cultivating the land, raising the stock, and probably still being aware of and appeasing the invisible ‘small people’ living on the farm, the landvættir residing on the farm’s land, the elves and vittror in the forest and other supernatural powers living among the people (Brink 2008, 621).

Baptism alone, however, did not necessarily mean change of mindset or worldview. As Chapter 4 has shown, conversion in Anglo-Saxon England and Charlemagne’s area of influence show that here the Church’s main aim was to baptise the population without giving them any introductions to the new faith (Schieffer 2000, 245-248) In Scandinavia, the process of conversion appears to have taken longer partly due to the lack of constantly-present clergy and missionaries (Sanmark 2004, 91-92). Could this be an explanation of the comparative abundance of pre-Christian theoforic place names in Scandinavia in contrast to the shortage of such throughout Central Europe? Scandinavian place names, clearly reflect a long-lasting memory of religious beliefs, helped by the fact that as Gunnell points out: “In a sense, the most concrete, constant features of the religions would have been the holy sites” (Gunnell 2013, 155). This meant that if the few Christian missionaries intended to peacefully preach the new religion in Scandinavia, giving the residents time to change their habits and customs without aggressively putting pressure upon them, it might have been seen as comparatively irrelevant to them to rename their well-established names. While the conversion of the Germanic tribes throughout Central Europe seems to have taken a more radical path, it is also worth bearing in mind the idea of a two-directional religious syncretism which points towards 75 the approach being on the whole less forceful. It is nonetheless evident that the reputable Germanic tribes who were less stable and less bound on evidence had been in touch with various cultures and diverse religious customs for many centuries. The moving disappearance of earlier theophoric place names (if they existed) was not necessarily a result of Christianisation. It might well have happened earlier here due to the regular merging of diverse ethnic groups and migration. It is also possible that in some cases the attraction of other cultures accelerated the change of heathen customs leading to the early dismissal of names and practices. The situation in Britain before the onset of Conversion (where theophoric place names remain) underlining that they must have once existed among the Saxon tribes nonetheless shows a different approach: Here owing to different conditions, it seems that the migrating tribes took over the residential culture rather than merging into it themselves thereby giving place names a chance to take part, as in the Nordic countries. To sum up, there is good reason to say that considering the main differences and similarities in the development of the Germanic areas and the Nordic countries might help explain the contrast in place name tradition. As has been noted, Central Europe was home to itinerant German tribes who engaged in a process of regular movement which had already been set in motion prior to the onset of the main Migration Period. In short, these tribes inhabited a certain area for only a short period of time before moving to somewhere else. Their religion was thus more moveable. Place names and religious tradition were thus less likely to take root. This fact may well have contributed to the lack of Germanic place names in certain areas. However, we must also not forget that in the process of movement these tribes were also in close contact with a diversity of other ethnicities, many of whom were viewed as being more in comparisonadvanced to their own civilisation in terms of cultural and political development (such as the Celts and Romans). Early contact between many tribes and Christianity over the course of their migrations would have had an additional cultural impact. As we have seen, cultural and linguistic evidence shows diverse Germanic tribes in the Migration Period adapting from residents and other Germanic tribes, heavily borrowing from their surrounding ethnicities. This fact might also be explained by the ratio of intruders to residents in many parts. The harsh suppression of pre-Christian culture by later Christian rulers such as Charlemagne (who seems to have gone out of his way to change the pagan landscape) might have been another factor.

76 If we compare this to the Scandinavian situation, it is noteworthy that there the more or less isolated tribes were more sedentary and less unstable than the Germanic tribes of Central Europe. As has been noted above, traditions with pre-Christian roots, such as poetry, myths, customs as well as place names, have been preserved to a much greater extent here. Scandinavia was also less under threat of conquest from outside (from the Romans or Huns for example). The influence of other cultures was thus more limited and those few immigrants that did come probably rapidly merged into the residential ethnic groups. This situation prevailed until Christianity started pushing towards the north. The wiping out of cultural aspects of the daily life might well have been also spared by the late and slow conversion of the Scandinavian tribes who were often isolated and diversely spread. It also seems that some rulers used less brutal methods than Charlemagne. This nonetheless brings us once again to look to the Anglo-Saxon settlement of Britain which as noted above shows a great contrast to the migration of the continental Germanic tribes. Place-name evidence here is also very different to the general Germanic area. Evidenetly the Anglo-Saxons were still pagan when they took over large parts of Britain during a period in which the advanced Roman civilisation there was falling apart. The Anglo-Saxons thus found themselves in a superior position when they arrived unlike in many other areas. Despite the fact that the Anglo-Saxons definitely adopted some aspects of the pre-existing civilisation, the adaption of cultural influences clearly went in an opposite direction here: the local inhabitants that remained largely borrowed from the incoming culture, including religious and linguistic aspects rather than the other way around. This might serve as an explanation for the numerous Germanic place names in Britain surviving from these times a situation that is quite different to the continent. In addition to all these features the chronological differences between these three discussed historical moments (the Christianisation of the German-speaking tribes between the 3rd and the 9th centuries peaking with the rise of Charlemagne and his Frankish Empire; the movement of the Anglo-Saxon tribes to Britain from the early 5th century onwards; and the conversion of Scandinavia between the 10th and 12th centuries) might also provide some explanation for the low number of theophoric place names surviving within the German- speaking area, as will shown in the following section. As noted above, it is tempting to suggest that the fact that the north was Christianised later than Germany and that Christian Middle Ages were more tolerant towards pre-Christian

77 traditions might also have played a part in these differences. On the other hand, Norway for instance experienced a rather harsh conversion by Ólafr Tryggvason and St Ólafr whose approach did not point to tolerance. As Laur notes that scholarship has generally followed up this idea assuming that Christian churches were often placed on pre-Christian cult sites as a mean of stamping this authority thereby also replacing pre-Christian place names (Laur 2001, 20). As the following chapters show, place names can nonetheless indicate where cults might have been carried out in the landscape or even point to potential man-made constructions built for religious activities (Laur 2001, 29).

78 5 Sacral Place Names in the German-Speaking area

5.0 Introduction In the previous chapters, the different developments and events that had eventually led to the reconstruction and Christianisation of Europe during the first centuries AD have been discussed thoroughly. As was noted here, the Central European situation differs significantly from that in Britain and Scandinavia. As the work on place names in Britain and Scandinavia serves as a role model for the potential discussion of place names in the German-speaking world, it is logical to start by mentioning some basic statements about the situation recording place names in the area of investigation in comparison to the place-name hoard in Britain and Scandinavia. Due to various special circumstances, it is evident that pre-Christian cult lasted a particularly long time in Scandinavia resulting in a large number of extant place names from which we can still draw knowledge today. Even though the pagan religion lasted a shorter time in Britain, the British place-name hoard is of particular interest with regard to the German- speaking situation. As discussed above in Chapter 4.2, large parts of southern England, such as Sussex, Essex, Wessex, Middlesex, Surrey and Kent, were repopulated mainly by Angles and Saxons originating from Germanic-speaking areas during the 5th and 6th centuries, people who displaced the local population and introduced both their own culture and language, something which is partially reflected by the names in this area (see Chapter 5). The main difference between the theophoric place names in Scandinavia and Britain with regard to the discussion of German place names lies in the origin of these place-name hoards: unlike in Scandinavia, where place names developed steadily out of the inhabitants’ own culture over the course of centuries, the British place-name hoard (especially that relevant for this discussion) was essentially imported from the German-speaking territory and established in Britain within a rather short period of time. In short, there is good reason to believe that they represent a reflection of the place-name hoard that existed in the same period in northern Germany (as can be seen in the place name Gutenswegen, see Chapter xx). Naturally, before making any conclusions, it is necessary to filter out the relevant extant British name material and compare it to that still existing in the German-speaking areas where (as noted above) it seems that many earlier names (if thery ever existed) must have disappeared.

79 However, before proceeding any further with the discussion of potential sacral Germanic place names, it is necessary to establish a framework for the material covered by this essay, which will allow a productive discussion of the names in question. As noted above, outside the important works of Wolfgang Laur and Udolph (see chapter 3.4) which will serve as a foundation for this study, it is clear that academic engagement with theophoric place names in the German-speaking world has been rather limited in recent years. Some revision of the earlier preliminary work carried out by Grimm and de Vries (see also Chapter 3.4), who were among the first German scholars to explore place names in terms of their historical value, is evidently necessary. The following discussion of theophoric place names in the German-speaking area will start with an explanation of the main elements of a theophoric place name, that is the fundamental as well as the determinative elements, bearing in mind the Scandinavian and British patterns which are similar enough to reflect a shared approach, which is also echoed in the Germanic theophoric place names from the Netherlands (see Boshouwers 2013). On the basis of this introduction, a review of the challenges presented by the in terms of place names will be underlined. A detailed examination will then be given of the individual theophoric place names in Germany suggested by Grimm, de Vries and Laur and Udolph (excluding those for Schleswig Holstein which have recently been examined in Laur in 2001). These names will be sorted initially by their determinative elements that is by the names of the different deities worth considering in the discussion.

5.1 The Primary Elements of Theophoric place names

5.1.0 Introduction As noted above, place-name sources help us to draw conclusions about the nature and distribution of pre-Christian cult that is local ritual religious activity in a narrower sense, and about the deities to whom the cult was addressed. As will be noted in Chapter 5.1.1, the names of the Nordic and Germanic pre-Christian gods and goddesses (as well as other supernatural beings) also appear in several other sources (such as historical records, laws, runic inscriptions, sagas and poetry). For the most part however, the Scandinavian material on Old Norse (and Germanic) gods and rituals is much richer than that found in central Europe. This also applies to theophoric place names. The fact is that we do not find a lot of evidence of place names referring to pre-Christian cult in central Europe (Bartlett 2007, 54-55).

80 As Udolph points out that the main problem with theophoric place names in the German- speaking area is that “[...] Götternamen und ähnliche Bezeichnungen, wie sie in modernen und hist. überlieferten ON-Formen vorliegen, in vielen Fällen von gleichlautenden Appellativen und PN nicht unterschieden werden können” (Udolph 2001, 415) (in many cases, the names of gods and similar designations found in the modern and historical transmitted forms of place names, can not be distinguished from homonymous appellatives and personal names). In order to extrapolate the existence of gods’ names in place names, Vikstrand states that three requirements must be met: (1) The name of the deity must be in its genitive form; (2) the god’s name must appear in the first place connected to a secondary element with a sacral connotation; (3) it must ideally not be an isolated example, but must be found in several place names (Vikstrand 2004, 168). Laur points out that “Götternamen nicht als Bestimmungswörter von Ortsnamen auftreten, deren Grundwörter typische Siedlungsbezeichnungen darstellen” (Laur 2001, 34) (Names of deities do not occur as determinative words of place names whose fundamental words represent typical terms for settlements) as sacral place names trace back to designations for cult sites, which then emerged to settlement names (Laur 2001, 34). Looking at the name material suggested by earlier scholars, only a few deities can be taken into account and are worth having a closer look at. It is noteworthy, that outside of Scandinavia none of the gods and goddesses associated with the Vanir can be attested within the evidence of place names (cf. Brink 2007, de Vries 1937, 274-276). These are thus worth having a closer look at next, bearing in mind the local forms of the names of the gods in question.

5.1.1 The Names of Deities Found in Germanic Place Names 5.1.1.1 Óðinn / Wodan The Germanic form *Wōþanaz, *Wōþinaz constitutes the basis of the name of the god that later became known as Óðinn in the Nordic areas. According to Laur, the primary meaning of the first part of the south-Germanic Old High German form Wotan, Wuotan, Wodan is ‘ecstasy, rage, obsession’: Old High German wuot for New High German ‘Raserei, Wut’ (‘rage, anger’); Gothic wōþs for New High German ‘besessen’ (‘obsessed’) (Laur 2001, 79; also Bach 1953, 363). The name of the god combined with the suffix *-ana, *- refers to the ‘master,

81 lord, leader’ of this ‘rage’, as Gothic þiudans = ‘king’ and þiuda = ‘people, folk’ (Grimm 1875, 109-110; Laur 2001, 79; Simek 2005, 35-36). The earliest evidence of the name of the god shows two forms, which differ in terms of both vocalism of the second syllable and geographical distribution. The southern group in Germany has the vowel a in the second syllable, as in the inscription of the Nordendorf Fibula I from around 550 AD, generally considered as oldest example of the wording Wōdan (see Figure 6; Simek 2005, 35; Hultgård 2007, 759).

Figure 6: Nordendorf Fibula I: Klaus Düwel reads logaþore wodan wigiþonar as “sorcerers (or: malicious) [are] Wodan and hallow- (or: fight-)Donar” (Düwel 2008, 63-64).

The Vita Columbani from the 7th century mentions Vodan, with the Latin Vodano (Jonas of Bobbio 1905, 17; Hultgård 2007, 759-760; Laur 2001, 80). In versions of his Historia Langobardum from the late 8th century, Paulus Diaconus refers to the god as Wotan, Gwodan and Godan (Paulus Diaconus 1878, 59; see also Hultgård 2007, 760; Laur 2001; 80). Paulus Diaconus, however, is borrowing here from the earlier Orgio gentis Langobardum from the 7th century, in which the god Godan as well as his wife Frea are both mentioned (Waitz 1878, 2- 3). The Second Merseburg Charm from the first half of the 10th century then uses Uuodan (Wōdan); while the Münchner Nachtsegen from the 14th century shows the Middle High German form Wûtan (Sievers 1872, 10; Keinz 1867, 7; 337; Simek 2005, 36; Hultgård 2007, 760; Laur 2001, 80). For logical reasons, the term Wodan28 is most frequently used among German-speaking scholars, the pre-Old High German form with a long ō for the later uo and the non-displaced d for the later t (Laur 2001, 80). Although no records of an Old High German form for the god are preserved, Old High German glosses, such as the verb wuoten ‘wüten’ (‘rage’), the noun wuot ‘Wut’ (‘anger’) and the adjectives wuotag ‘tobsüchtig’ (‘raving mad’) and woatanherz ‘tyrannisch’ (‘tyrannical’) have survived, which etymologically correlate with the name of the god (Schützeichel 2004, 301; Hultgård 2007, 760).

28 The forms Wodan/Donar are used throughout the discussion of place-names in the German, Dutch and English areas and the Old Norse forms Óðinn/Þórr are used for the examination of place names within the Scandinavian areas. Due to the lack of evidence in the south-Germanic regions, the Old Norse forms of the deities Týr and Baldr are continuously used for the subsequent discussion of place names. 82 The northwestern German group shows e/i in the second syllable. Showing a move towards Nordic forms, the Vita St Kentigerni from around 600 mentions Woden (Forbes 1874 92, 217). This is echoed in Bede’s Hisoria Ecclastica gentis Anglorum from the early 8th century which uses the form Wōden (Uoden) (Bede 1896, 32), a form reflected in the Old English place names and the names of the weekdays in Old English which preserve the variation Wōden/Wēden (Gelling 1973, 115). Indeed, as noted in Chapter 4.4 the Old Saxon baptismal vow (end of the 8th century) also shows the form Wōden (Uuoden). Bishop Ælfric (955-1012) from Eynsham, England, meanwhile use the form Oðan in his De Falsis Diis, noting the Danish translation of the Roman god (also see Chapter 5.1.1.2: Footnote 31) (Wulfistan of York 2011, 758-759). The oldest Scandinavian evidence meanwhile takes the form of the skull- fragment of Ribe from around 731, which shows the form Oðinn (uþin) (Hultgård 2007, 760). This Old Norse form is caused by the loss of w- prior to a dark vowel in the late Proto-Norse, something seen in the Icelandic ormr/orð, Danish orm/ord and German Wurm/Wort (Laur 2001, 81). Forms of the god’s name showing the initial sound g- must nonetheless also be addressed here as they will frequently come uo in the discussion of theophoric place names in the German-speaking area (see Chapter 5.3.2). The initial g- is frequently found in the West German vernaculars, as in Godensdag or Gudensdag for . It has been suggested that these forms derive from the Romanisation of Germanic initial w- as gu- as can be seen in the French Guillaume for German Wilhelm (Laur 2001, 80). Indeed, as noted above Paulus Diaconus evidently knew in the 8th century that the Lombard god Wotan was also called Guodan (Paulus Diaconus 1878, 59), something which pleads for the gradual Romanisation of the Lombardic language over time. Laur, however, doubts whether the Roman influence was profound enough to affect place names as well as the names of the weekdays (Godens- /Gudensdag being the form of Wednesday in West German vernaculars) (Laur 2001, 80).29 Wodan was undoubtedly one of the most prominent and worshipped deities of the Germanic tribes, especially if we consider the talk of Mercurius by Latin writers (Pohl 2004, 81; see Chapter 5.1.1.2: Footnote 31), and one would thus expect to find place names in Germany showing this god’s name. The image of Wodan nonetheless clearly changed over the course of the around at least 1000 years in which he was worshipped. The demonization of

29 Another explanation for the change of w- to g- is the reinterpretation of the name with the German word ‘gut’ (English ‘good’), something that can be seen in the change in the designation for the Wild Hunter in Wild Ride legends in some parts from Wode to Gode (Laur 2001, 80). 83 the god which evidently followed the breakthrough of Christianity in southern and northern Europe is still reflected in the manifestation of the god in folk beliefs which partly survive to this day (Hultgård 2007, 759).

5.1.1.2 Týr / Zio / Ziu The Old Norse Týr has a probable early form *TīwaR due to the u-umlaut and syncope, Old Danish having the form *TīR (Laur 2001, 81-82). The Old High German form ziostac, ziestac for (cf. Dan./Norw. Tirsdag and Engl. Tuesday) nonetheless also supports the reconstruction of the Old High German forms *Zīo and *Zīu and the Old Low German form Tīu as deriving from the Proto-Germanic *Tīwaz meaning ‘god’ (Simek 2005, 32; Laur 2001, 81). The use of this shared name for the weekday (as a replacement for ) suggests that here a particular deity was meant rather than a base appellative for ‘god’. As Zimmer notes:

Gelehrte, die sich für appelativische [sic!] Bedeutung des Vorderglieds aussprechen, haben bisher nicht erklärt, weshalb die Germanen dann ausgerechnet den Dienstag als bloßen “Tag des Gottes” benannt hätten, im Ggs. zu allen anderen Tagen, die nach römischen Vorbild nach bestimmten Gottheien [...] benannt wurden [...] (Zimmer 2007, 575).

(Scholars who argue in favour of an appellative meaning of the first term have so far yet failed to explain why the Germanic people would have merely named Tuesday of all days “the day of the god”, in contrast to all the other days which have been named after certain particular deities in accordance with the Roman model.)

This god (described in Gylfaginning: Snorri Sturluson 2005) is nonetheless not mentioned by name in any Old High German literary sources, apart from a controversial gloss in the Wessobrunn Prayer from around 790 which refers to the Alemanni who occupied a place Ciesburc (fortress of *Zio) as Cyuuari suapa (worshipper of *Zio) (see discussion of Ciesburg in Chapter 5.4.1) which might well be a misspelling (Wackernagel 1827, 74; Laur 2001, 133-134; Simek 2005, 32; Zimmer 2007, 574). OE shows the form Tīw which is derived from the Proto-Germanic form *Tīwaz > *Teiwaz. While Indo-Germanic *Deiwos is based on the stem *deiǝ̯ - meaning ‘sky, light, bright’ (Laur 2001, 81), the Proto-Germanic form *Tīwaz, as noted above, stems from the appellative for ‘god’ *deiu̯ ̯os which corresponds to Latin deus = ‘god’ and divus = ‘divine’ echoed in the names of the Greek god and the Roman god Diespiter, Iupiter (Laur 2001, 81; Zimmer 2007, 574;

84 Ringgren and Ström 1959, 145). The word is also related to other Indo-European terms for gods, such as the Old Indian Dyaus, deva, the Old Irish día, the Latin dei and the Latvian Dievs (Laur 2001, 81; Simek 2005, 32-33; Ringgren and Ström 1959, 145). This is important. As Simek notes: “[...] ist *Ziu/Týr der einzige der Götter des altgermanischen Pantheons, der solche (etymologischen) Entsprechungen mit der Götterwelt anderer Polytheismen aufweist” (Simek 2005, 33) ([...] *Zîu/Týr is the only one of the gods of the Old Germanic pantheon, who shares such (etymological) exactly analogies with the world of gods of other polytheisms), something that underlines early roots. We nonetheless still have to deal with overlapping of the god’s name and an appellative, since as noted above, the appellative means ‘god’ in a pre-Christian sense. As Laur points out:

[...] geht aber das Nebeneinander von Göttername und Appellativ bereits in die indogermanische Vorzeit zurück, und wir stehen vor der nicht mehr eindeutig zu bentwortenden Frage, ob im Indogermanischen der Göttername oder das Appellativ die ursprüngliche Bezeichnung darstelle (Laur 2001, 82).

([...] the coexistence of god’s name and the appellative dates back to the Indo- European prehistory and we are facing a question that no longer can be answered unambiguously, in other words whether the name or the appellative represents the original term in the Indo-European language.)

As noted above the rich Old Norse literary sources seem to reflect little knowledge of this deity. It seems as the god in question had already receded into the background by the Viking Age (Vikstrand 2001, 407). Although Snorri Sturluson still mentions Týr as one of the higher gods of the pantheon, outside the story of (Hymiskviða: Eddukvæði 2014, 399-407) there is only one myth (the myth of the Fenrir) in which this god plays a role (Snorri Sturluson 1997, 38, 41-43, 106; Hultgård 2007, 930). This myth is nonetheless assumed by some, to have originated in a late, medieval Christian environment, as no other literary source gives evidence of the motive of the captivaton of the wolf Fenrir and Týr’s loss of his hand (Hultgård 2007, 932). The skaldic poetry only knows týr as the singular of the plural form tívar ‘gods’ and meaning ‘god’ as a paraphrase for Óðinn (Val-týr, Sig-týr) (Simek 2005, 32; Hultgård 2007, 930; Zimmer 2007, 575).

It is worth noting in this context, the t-rune (t), which is consistently documented in Rune Poems containing the futhark alphabet from Scandinavia and England, is again the name Týr (Anglo-Saxon tīw/tī/tīr, Gothic tyz, Old Norse týr), something which again points towards the bossible importance of this deity in earlier times (Simek 2005, 33), if it does not simply refer 85 to any god. One also notes the few irregularly spread theophoric place names in Scandinavia, almost all of which come from Denmark. It is noteworthy that tese place names are almost exclusively connected to terms for nature like Tislund, Tisbjerg and Tissø (Denmark), none of them referring to sanctuaries30 (Hultgård 2007, 930; Brink 2007, 120). This might lend some support to Tacitus’ comment about gods not being confirmed to buildings. The limit in spread has been given various explanation. Simek argues that: “Die relativ geringe Zahl von Ortsnamen kann jedoch damit zusammenhängen, dass in der Bildungszeit theophorer Ortsnamen der Kult des Gottes schon stark im Abnehmen begriffen war” (Simek 2005, 34) (The relatively low number of place names may be related to the fact that during the time of the formation of thophoric place names, the cult of the god had already been declining). Hultgård however suggests (considering Snorri’s limited knowledge of Týr) that the sacral place names of south Scandinavia involving the name Týr (like that of the important centre of Tissø) can be traced back to an earlier period, before the cult of this deity faded (Hultgård 2007, 931). Following on from this idea, there are a number of somewhat questionable other pieces of evidence that might indicate the cult of the deity which have survived from south-Germanic and west-Germanic areas: these take the form of a number of stone monuments (votive/dedication stones) from the left bank of the Rhine which contain Latin inscriptions mentioning the god Mars accompanied by a Germanic .31 One exponate is the votive stone from the 1st century AD from Roermond in the Netherlands which is dedicated to “Marti Halamarðo sacrum”, which translates as ‘the man-murdering’, quite clearly addressing a god of war, an expression which would fit both Mars and Týr (af Edholm 2016, 77). The

30Despite the fact that the place name Tissø does not contain any term referring to sanctuaries but denoting a site dedicated to the god Týr, “Tissø has become one of the most important sites for understanding Viking-Age society in Scandinavia, thanks to the extensive archaeological excavations there” (Brink 2007, 120). The archaeological evidences have shown signs of relicious practice and there is no doubt that this area represents an important pre-Christian cult site (Jørgensen 2008, 77-79; Hultgård 2008, 217; see also af Edholm 2016). 31According to Latin writers, Germanic god Týr is reffered to as Mars. As af Edholm points out:

[...] av Tyr som en central gudom, med krigiska förtecken, i germansk och fornnordisk religion under förra delen av järnåldern. Det råder konsensus i forskningen kring att veckodagarnas nordiska namn är lån från romarna via västgermanska folk under äldre järnålder. Att romerske Mars översattes med Tyr skedde enligt en interpretatio germanica [Interpretatio Romana]. Vi möter således där den emiska uppfattningen av guden, som en krigsgud (af Edholm 2016, 75; see also Tacitus 1993).

86 interpretation of votive stones nonetheless has a number of difficulties and the Interpretatio Romana32 cannot solely justify theories such as this. As Simek points out:

Diese Deutung [...] ist allerdings keineswegs unumstritten und löst auch nicht das Problem, ob die germanischen Legionäre nun den römischen Mars für ihre Zwecke angerufen und adaptiert hatten oder ob es sich tatsächlich um Týr handelte (Simek 2005, 34).

(This interpretation [...] is by no means uncontroversial and does not solve the problem of whether the Germanic legionaries had and adapted and started involving the Roman Mars for their purposes or whether this really involved Týr.)

All in all, while there is reason to belive that Týr was one of the oldest Germanic deities and that one might expact to find a number of old theophoric place names in the German- speaking area, this is however clerly not the case (see Chapter 5.4). These names must have got lost – if they ever existed (which one would expect from the English place-name evidence). This might be due to the persistent migration of the tribes and the heavy influence from other cultures, as has been discussed in previous chapters. The number of votive stones might reflect the same development.

5.1.1.3 Þórr / Donar The name Þórr/Donar derives from the pre-Old High German *Þonar as the earlier noted Nordendorf fibula I from around 550 AD shows. Old High German has the form Thonar,

32Interpretatio Romana means the Roman practice of identifying the foreign deities of neighbouring tribes with their own gods and goddesses on the basis of their attributes and characteristics. This concept is based on reports of antique historians who wrote about heathen religions and cultures. These authors include Julius Caesar (100 BC-44 BC) and Tacitus (ca. 58 AD-120 AD) who compared different tribes to each other in their works, trying to arrange the diverse religious beliefs and cults of the Germanic tribes into a system which allowed them to compare Germanic ideas to their own religious concepts. The main problem with this interpretation and its use for modern scholarship is that although the main Germanic and Roman gods can be equated, this comparison is built on attributes and functions but often lacks the Germanic deities’ names (Simek 2005, 23-24). Ælfric’s “Homily on the False Gods” (De Falsis Diis), transmitted by Wulfistan of York (died 1023), England, reports on “Iouis [...] And he hatte Þor oðrum naman betwux sumum þeodum [...] Sum man eac wæs gehaten Mercurius on life [...] Ðone Macedon þa hæðenan be heora getæle eac heom to mæran gode [...] and to heagum beorgum him brohton oft mistlice loflac. Ðes gedwolgod wæs arwuðe eac betwux eallum hæðenum on þam dagum, and he is Oðan gehaten oðrum naman on Denisce wisan. [...] Iouis wære, þe he Þor hatað, Mercuries sunu, þe hi Oðan namiað (Wulfstan of York 2011, 758-759) (Jove [...] among some other nations he is called Thór [...] There was a man called Mercury in life; [...] The heathens made him into a great god [...] and brought sacrifices to him on high mountains. This god is venerated among all the heathens, and he is called Óthin by another name in Danish. [...] this Jove, whom they call Thór, was the son of Mercury, whom they call Óthin) (translated by Terry Gunnell). 87 Donar:33 the Old Saxon baptismal vow (from a manuscript of the late 8th century) shows the form Thunœr for *Thonar which equates to the appellative of New High German ‘Donner’ (English ‘thunder’) (Beck 1986, 2; Laur 1989, 144; Laur 2001, 82). The doubled consonant of this New High German form is explained by the change of the vowel length, as in the change from the Middle High German sumer to the New High German Sommer (Laur 2001, 82). The Old English preserves the form þunor ‘thunder’ while the Old Saxon form is Thunaer (Beck 1986, 1; Insley 2001, 430). This makes it particularly difficult to distinguish between the name of the deity and the homonymic appellative. Udolph points out that “bei dt. ON ist daran zu denken, daß es sich bei Bergnamen um Wetterberge handeln kann” (Udolph 2001, 416) (with regard to German place names, one might think that the names for mountains could refer to mean “weather-mountains”) which tend to attract thunder. This problem does not occur in the North- as the monosyllabic ON Þórr stems from the Ur-Norse *ÞunaR as a result of the a-umlaut, the loss of n prior to r being followed by the compensatory lengthening of r. The equality of the Old Norse form and the appellative ‘thunder’ does not occur here (in spite of Þórr’s connection to this), the word is associated only with the name of the god (Beck 1986, 1). The information reguarding the worship of this deity in the individual languages is very different: this very rare on the continent (unless we are thinking of /Jove, the roman name which represents Þórr according to the Interpretatio Romana; see Simek 2011, 221) and England (cf. Gelling 1973) but comparatively rich in Scandinavia (cf. Brink 2007; Vikstrand 2001). The primary contemporary sources are the early runic inscriptions, followed in later times by personal names, place names, poetry and sagas and a number of annals (cf. Tacitus 1993; Beda 1997; Pope (ed.) 1968). The material of primary sources only consists of a number of runic inscriptions as well as personal and place names that directly refer to this god. Personal names including the god’s name show a peculiar temporal and spatial distribution as there is no explicit evidence indicating the usage of such names during or prior to the Migration Period. A strong increase takes place during the Viking Age, almost exclusively in

33The 4th phase of the High German consonant shift can be clearly traced through written sources. This development started in the south of Germany sometime during the period between the 6th and 8th centuries reaching the the Middle Franconian area by the 11th century. This consonant shift caused the change from /þ/ to /d/ and /ð/ to /d/ (as seen in the change of ON. það, Engl. that to Germ. das and ON bróðir Engl. brother to Germ. Bruder) that affected the whole German dialect continuum. The distinction between the initial sound /þ/ and /ð/ in the middle of a word merged to /d/. As a whole, the High German consonant shift caused the development of the Old High German language (Grimm 1970, 283-284; Salmons 2018, 125; Goblirsch 2005, 143). 88 the North; Old English shows a few placenames (cf. Gelling 1973) as well as Old High German, however, not free of doubt (see discussion below) (Beck 1986, 1). Due to the complexity of the relationship between (potential) theophoric personal names and the worship, an exact conclusion is not always easy to find (Beck 1986, 1). As Insley notes, the names of the weekday, English (< OE Þunresdæg), New High German Donnerstag (OHG donarestag), Old Norse Þórsdagr, once again represent a loan- tradition drawing on the Latin dies Jovis (Insley 2001, 431). As he points out: “The OE name of the god, Þunor, is well represented as the first element of place-names in south-eastern England, though the evidence for it in Anglian territory is ambiguous [...]” (Insley 2001, 431). These British place names indicate that the “cult was practised by the Anglo-Saxons in (a) open country, (b) forest glades, and (c) on raised areas of land, on barrows” (Insley 2001, 432). Once again, the implication is that these names draw on German tradition. Place names including the element Þórr or Donar, involve similar other interpretative difficulties. Most frequently this name is compounded with the Germ. –berg; the Engl. -field, -ley (Thunderfield, Thundersley); the Dan., Swed. -ager, -åker, -lund(a); the Norw. -hof, -land; the Swed. -harg, -vi and the Icel. -höfn, -nes (Brink 2007, 113-115; cf. Gelling 1973; Vikstrand 2016). As to Beck logically points out, “Die Bezeichnung heiliger Stätten (wie -harg, -vi, -lund? ley < lēah?) in Verbindung mit dem Þórr -Namen lassen wohl auf Kultstätten schließen” (Beck 1986, 1) (The indication of holy sites (such as wie -harg, -vi, -lund? ley < lēah?) in association with the name Þórr presumably suggests sanctuaries) (see also Brink 2007; Vikstrand 2001; M. Olsen 1928). All the same, as Beck points, however, out: “Schwieriger ist das dort, wo Donar auch appellativisch verstanden werden kann. Hier müßte in jedem einzelnen Fall die Entscheidung für eine mit der heidnischen Gottheit in Verbindung gebrachten Stätte begründet werden” (Beck 1986, 1) (It is more difficult where Donar can also be understood as appellative. Here, the decision in favour of a site connected to the pagan deity would have to be justified in each individually case). Arguably, this particularly applies to the German place names showing Donar as first element. The most challenging aspect is that, as this thesis shows, the fundamental element most frequently found connected to Donar is -berg (‘mountain’, ‘hill’, ‘mount’) something which does not exclusively point towards a sacred site (although the idea of sacred mountains was still evident in Iceland in names like Helgafell; see Svavar Sigmundsson1992). It can also mean ‘a mountain which attracts thunder’ in an appellative sense (Bach 1953, 363). As

89 Vikstrand underlined (see Chapter 5.1.0), if the place name shows the genitive –s (especially in the older sources as in Thorsberg), it is nonetheless more likely to be traced back to the god’s name (Laur 2001, 36). One might perhaps also argue that a site formerly dedicated to Donar could have lost its religious meaning over thime but because of the appellative accordance with the German word Donner for ‘thunder’, the name was able to survive. If we can talk about pagan sites being renamed by Christians (see Chapter 4.6), it might then have been irrelevant to change these names, something that would be different with Wodan and Týr.

5.1.1.4 Baldr / Balder The god Baldr/Balder is difficult to discuss as a Germanic god as we cannot be certain about either the exact mythological context of this figure or the etymology of the name. The Second Merseburg Charm from the first half of the 10th century shows the Old High German form Balder (Sievers 1872, 10), which in Old Norse becames Baldr. It has, however, been debated whether the inscription does refer to this god at all (Lindow 2001, 228; Helm 1944, 216-222). In modern Icelandic and New Faroese, we find the personal name Baldur, with the added epenthetic vowel -u- before -r (Laur 2001, 82-83). The earlier generation of scholars supported the etymology of Balder deriving from the Indo-European stem *bhel- ‘white, bright’ (in comparison to Lithuanian baltas ‘white’, Greek ϕαλóς ‘white’) and thus tried to interpret the god Balder as a deity of light, , or heaven (Schier 1976, 2; de Vries 1937, 241). Another interpretation of the name has suggested it can also be an appellative: Old English bealdor, Old Norse -baldr ‘lord, prince’ which encouraged Balder to be seen as a kind of pagan projection of the figure of Christ. This appellative can also be etymologically associated with the Gothic *balþs, Old Norse the baldr, baldinn, and the Old High German bald ‘brave, bold’, which would point to the deity having a strong marital character which might in turn back up a strong association with the circle of Òðinn. (see Jan de Vries 1937, 233; Schier 1976, 2; cf. Lindow 1993). It lther have suggested root in the Indo- European stem *bhel ‘swell, abound, sprout’ which would lead to a Germanic basic form *bal- ðra-m n. ‘power, force’ that could be developed into *balðraz, something which would perhaps identify Baldr as god of fertility (Schier 1976, 2). Outside of Scandinavia where there are few if any place names connected with the god, this deity is only represented in the British Isles. As noted above, the Second Merseburg

90 Charm, uses the word balderes (gen. sg., see Chapter 5.6), which could suggest that this god was also known around this area of modern Germany (Sievers 1872, 10). It is nonetheless debatable whether the word indeed refers to the deity or is using the appellative ‘lord’ (Schier 1976, 3, Laur 2001, 40). Nonetheless an inscription from the 3rd or 4th century found in Utrecht does the word Baldruo (Latin dat. sg.) for *Baldruus, something which, unless we are dealing with misspelling, could suggests an early knowledge of this deity around this area as well (Schier 1976, 3; Laur 2001, 40). There is thus logical reason for looking for placenames connected with this god in Germany. The personal names Balthari, Baldheri and Baldher, are certainly found in a low number of German place names (Bach 1953, 364; Laur 2001, 40), and those that use the genitive form *Balders-, would clearly indicate reference to personal name or that of the god instead the appellative form for ‘lord’. Laur nonetheless doubts the existence of such an appellative in Old High German and Old Saxon explaining that dictionary entries such as balder means ‘lord’ are derived and interpreted from the demo balderes volon in the Second Merseburg Charm. For the Old Saxon he expects the placenames to relate to a personal name (Sievers 1872, 10; Laur 1989, 144; Laur 2001, 40).

5.1.1.5 Conclusion All in all, one of the main difficulties for any examination of sacral place names in Germany that include any gods’ names is the fact that while numerous well-known names of Germanic deities exist, not developed out of an appellative into a proper name (Laur 1989, 145). Laur supported the earlier idea of an impersonal power being replaced by a personal concept of god, noting that the history of personal deities starts in all religions only when the appellative meaning of their names darkened in the conscious mind, and then disconnected itself from objects and became solely associated with them (Laur 1989, 14144-145). It is unclear whether some names of deities (such as Frô < frô ‘lord, ruler’) have made the step from their earlier appellative form to a proper name outside of Scandinavia, the persistence of the non-religious meaning must be taken into account. Building in this idea, Green stresses that a number of cases might “refer not to a pagan god, but to the property of a Germanic or even feudal lord” (Green 1998, 25).

91 5.1.2 Other Potential Determinative Elements 5.1.2.1 God(s) as General Terms In Scandinavian place names a number of primary elements occur that do not include the names of deities but still evidently refer to pre-Christian cult. One finds, for example the Norse word for god áss (< *ans-) as in the Danish and Swedish place name Åsum (< -hem) (which represents an equivalent to Gudhem (see below; see also Brink 2011) and the Norwegian Oslo (-lo ‘meadow at the sea’), but examples of such seem very unlikely in the German-speaking area (cf. Aßlar, Ansberg) (M. Olsen 1928, 264; Udolph 2001, 416). A number of other Nordic place names include the element gud- as primary element such as Gudbjerg, and Gudme. These are once again absent in continental Europe (Udolph 2001, 416; Brink 2011, 22). The plural form tívar ‘gods’, also reflected a number of Scandinavian place names such as Tiveden (< Tīviþer) (Brink 2007, 119), might reflect the same idea as a place where the gods dwell’. It is nonetheless noteworthy that, if there has ever existed a theophoric connotation to names showing the term gud- prior to the period of Christianisation of the German-speaking area, this meaning seems to have merged with the German term Gott for the Christian god.

5.1.2.2 Terms That Express Sanctity The New High German word heilig ‘holy’ is derived from Old High German heilag, heili(c)h and related to Old Saxon hêlag, hêlig, Old Frisian hēlich, Gothic hailags and Old Norse heilagr. This adjective consists of the suffix -ag, -ig, and the New High German substantive Heil basically meaning ‘well-being, blessing, fortune, integrity’ (Laur 2001, 89). As Laur writes:

Da nun germ. *heilaga- und *wīha- von den überlieferten Sprachstufen her und auch von der heutigen Sprache Synonyme zu sein scheinen, wie auch unsere Wörter weihen oder Weihnachten im Sinne von “heilige Nacht” oder auch got. ahma weihs oder wīh keist in uuihan keist im Althochdeutschen für “heiliger Geist” zeigen, müssen wir fragen, ob im vorchristlichen Germanischen beide Bezeichnungen eine unterschiedliche Bedeutung hatten und welch eine (Laur 2001, 90).

(As shown by the Germanic *heilaga- and *wīha- seem to be synonyms, on the basis of transmitted linguistic levels as well as from the modern language, such as our words weihen [‘dedicate, hallow’] or Weihnachten [‘Christmas’] in the sense of “holy night” or the Gothic ahma weihs or Old High German wīh keist in uuihan keist for “heiliger Geist” [‘holy spirit’] show, we must ask whether both terms had a different meaning in the Germanic language and if so, which.)

92 There are numerous German place names containing the term heilig, which are, however, almost indistinguishable from place names with Christian connotation. As Laur points out, over the years different scholars have agreed upon the initial conceptual difference of these two terms that, in a Christian context, have merged. One of these two terms (*heilaga- and *wīha-) has additionally ruled out the other: under English influence the modern word heilig surpassed. This development has presumably blurred the original distinction which, from a modern point of view, is scarcely reconstructable (De Vries 1937, 94; Laur 2001, 90). Another term that closely connected is the Indo-European term aleq- ‘defend, protect’ and Germanic *alh, which appears to refer to a place with pre-Christian cultic value in the sense of ‘holy site’. Similar are the uncertain Old High German term alha ‘protection, protected place, sanctuary, temple’ of which the Gothic equivalent is alhs ‘temple’. In Old English ealh means ‘temple’; in Old Lithuanian the terms elkas, alkas mean ‘holy grove’ and in Latvian èlks stands for ‘idol’. The Anglo-Saxon form ealgian means ‘protect, defend’ while Anglo-Saxon ealh and OS alah also mean ‘temple’ (Köbler 2014, 48; Pokorny 1959, 32). Two British place names in Kent appear to include this type: Alkham and a stream called ealhfleot (812 AD), alhfleot (815 AD). According to Gelling, these place names “have been derived from the word (e)alh (Gelling 1973, 115). Gelling nevertheless feels that “neither compound seems quite convincing” (Gelling 1973, 115) as none of the pre-Christian sacral place names is linked to such a habitative element. This makes Alkham (ending in -ham meaning ‘home’) rather uncertain. The only explanation Gelling considers is that “It is possible that in these two names [Alkham and ealhfleot, alhfleaot] we have a rare topographical term formally identical with alh ‘temple’ (Gelling 1973, 115).

5.2 Secondary Elements

5.2.0 Introduction Theophoric place names often include a number of typical appellatives that possibly represent places of worship. As Andrén points out: “Often these names have been used to trace specific gods and goddesses, but it is also possible to investigate the location of rituals by studying the endings of the sacral place-names” (Andrén 2013, 32). The elements in question frequently occur in the second place of the compound, commonly refering an open-air site like those mentioned by Tacitus (Tacitus 1894, 90-93; Lindow 2001, 34; Green 1998, 26; ). These locations can be very different: they can represent actual cult sites or sheer topographical

93 sites, such as mountains or lakes, which are often tied to transcendent powers through folk tales, myths and legends (Vikstrand 2004, 167). Discussing the fundamental elements of German place names, Laur agreas:

Die Grundwörter der sakralen Orts- und Flurnamen beziehen sich ihrer Bedeutung nach auf Gegebenheiten, die Heiligtümer, heilige Plätze, Kultstätten darstellen. [...] Die Grundwörter dieser Ortsnamen können sich auch auf Heiligtümer direkt beziehen [...] und auch Bezeichnungen für diese begegnen uns als Grundwörter (Laur 2001, 95).

(The meaning of the fundamental words in sacral place and field names indicate facts which represent sanctuaries, holy sites, cult sites. [...] The fundamental words of these place names can also refer directly to sanctuaries [...] and we even come across them as determinative elements.)

Some of these secondary elements only occur occasionally; others appear frequently in connection to theophoric primary elements, something which seems to indicate a stereotypical approach of establishing sacral place names (Vikstrand 2004, 170). As Vikstrand notes: “Sind diese Zweitglieder in sich sakral, wie z. B. vi, so handelt es sich mit Sicherheit um Bezeichnungen für Plätze mit einem gut entwickelten sakralen Gehalt, z. B. Kultplätze” (Vikstrand 2004, 170) (If these secondary elements are sacral themselves, such as vi, they certainly represent designations for places with a well-developed sacral content, for example cult sites). In some cases, while a sacral function cannot be assessed from an etymological point of view, a frequent appearance in combination with theophoric primary elements seems to indicate their authenticity (as with the Swedish åker, berg, lund) (Vikstrand 2004, 170). As to which secondary elements are worth considering, Brink points out: “In a pagan or ethnic religion, a mountain, valley, lake, river, spring, grove, stone (slab) or tree could be recognized as sacred, but also, of course, the same could apply to man-made structures” (Brink 2001, 88). We find several secondary elements compounded with deities in the German-speaking area, but we must bear in mind, that there see to be few words exclusively indicating sanctuaries or holy sites as we see them in Scandinavian place names. As Green points out dealing with such names: “The problem of interpretation raised by such place-names concern both the second element (how far is a place of worship really involved instead of a term with no religious function?) and the first element (is a deity necessarily referred to?)” (Green 1998, 25).

94 The following chapter will thus give a brief overview of the potential secondary elements that seem most relevant to our discussion of sacral place names in the German-speaking area noting their comparatively limited informative value in comparison to the Scandinavian and English names.

5.2.1 Elements Referring to Natural Features 5.2.1.1 -berg / -bergja / Berg Mountains have been considered as holy ever since the beginning of mankind. Numerous myths are woven around them, as some of the most famous examples, such as Fuji in Japan or Uluru (Ayers Rock) in Australia show. In ancient Italy and (Olympia in Greece), it is clear that mountains were often dedicated to gods, altars and sanctuaries still adorning the landscapes. Early literary accounts prove the importance of mountains in pre-Christian concepts, such as Ælfric’s (c. 955-c. 1010). De Falsis Diis that notes “and to heagum *beorgum him brohtan onsæg[ed]nysse” (Pope (ed.) 1968, 684) (and brought sacrifices to him [Óðinn] on high mountains). Another written source that witnesses pre-Christian cult that was carried out on mountaintops is Procopius of Caesaria’s 6th century History of the Wars. It reports of an island called Thule (Iceland) and an ancient custom taking place at the solstice: “[...] certain men are sent to the summits of the mountains - for this is the custom among them - and when they are able from that point barely to see the sun, they bring back word to the people below that within five days the sun will shine upon them [...]” (Procopius 1919, Chapter XV). In Scandinavia, too, numerous instances of holy mountains and their names, such as the Icelandic Helgafell (‘holy mountain’), the Swedish Onsberga (< *Odhinsb(i)œrgh, ‘Óðinn’s mountain’) and the Danish Torsbjerg (‘Þórr’s mountain’) (see also Chapter 5.5.4) still prove a vivid concept of pre-Christian beliefs being embedded in the landscapes (Brink 2001, 100). The German element -berg is constituted of the identical substantive Berg meaning ‘mountain, hill, mount’, accordingly describing an elevation of undefined height and usually of natural origin (Laur 2001, 95). The Old High German forms frequently vary, but their differing orthography is insignificant. The New High German form Berg is well attested throughout the German-speaking area, while Low German vernaculars sometimes show forms such as barg and bark. Apart from that, Berg and Burg frequently interchange within the sources for the same name (Förstemann 1863, 42). Within the Low German area, the word can even refer to a burial mound (see Köbler EDEL). It is the equivalent to the Scandinavian

95 berg or bjerg, which is frequently found in Danish and Swedish sacral place names (cf. Tisbjerg, Torsbjerg and cf. Onsberga < *Odhinsb(i)ærgh) (Laur 2001, 95-96; Vikstrand 2004, 171). Such names seem to be lacking in Norway and Iceland (Vikstrand 2004, 171). As Vikstrand has pointed out, place names including the name of a deity in the first place immediately qualify the secondary element -berg as theophoric and prove that mountains represented a holy site in the old Scandinavian mindscape (Vikstrand 2004, 171). Something also seen in names like Helgafell in Iceland (cf. Eyrbyggjasaga Jónas Kristjánsson (ed.) 1956). We have a small number of theophoric -berg names in England, such as the difficult Wodnesbeorg (Wiltshire) ‘Woden’s ’, which is called Adam’s Grave today and Woodnesborough (Kent) ‘Woden’s tumulus’ (< Wanesberge, Gollesberge 1086, Wodnesbeorge, Wodnesberga, Wanneberga c. 1100) (Gelling 1973, 126). In the Netherlands a number of theophoric place names connected to -berg also exist: a rather trustworthy Woensberg ‘Wodan’s mountain’; a uncertain Donderberg (earlier forms do not show the genitive -s, which makes a certain interpretation in favour of the pre-Christian deity Donar difficult); and Godsberg, Goudsberg and Goudberg which are subject to the same difficulties of interpretation as the German place names Godesberg and Gudensberg (see Chapters 5.3.2 and 5.3.3) (Boshouwers 2013, 49-51). The New High German non-theophoric term Gebirge represents a collective form for a range of mountains and is comparatively young. The Old High German and Middle High German form houc are found in names such as Donnershauk (see Chapter 5.5.4.3). The New High German term Hügel ‘hill’ is relatively young and commonly found today, but not attested in earlier times (Förstemann 1863, 42-43). From an evolutionary point of view, the term Burg (which is frequently found in German place names as secondary element) can be traced back to old fortresses, the development of which reaches back to the late Bronze Age. As Debus notes: “Da es sich dabei um Höhenbefestigungen gehandelt hat, wird deutlich, dass germ. *burg- als Ablautform von germ. *berga- mit Berg/-berg ‘(An-)Höhe’ auch später noch wechseln konnte [...]” (Debus 2012, 179) (As this refers to fortifications on heights, it becomes clear that the Germanic *burg- as form of ablaut from Germanic *berga- could alternate with Berg/-berg ‘hill, elevation’ in later times).

96 5.2.1.2 -lund / -loh(e) According to Schröder, the suffix -loh(e) (< Germ. *lauha- ‘wood, grove, clearing’) refers to one of the most ancient terms for forest (Schröder 1944, 185). Förstemann suspects a connection between the Old High German lôh, Old Frisian loch, Anglo-Saxon loh and Latin lucus all meaning ‘grove, forest, clearing’ (Förstemann 1863, 58; Udolph 1994, 514-515). Bach meanwhile suspects more theophoric relationships in names ending in -loh, or -berg, than in place names connected to terms indicating settlements, such as -heim, -hus and so forth (Bach 1953, 363). Debus agrees with the potential of cultic connotation within such place names (Debus 2012, 159) seeing cennections with the holy groves mentioned by Tacitus (Tacitus 1894, 68, 90, 93). Theophoric names connected to -lund(a) ‘grove, wood’ are especially common in central Sweden frequently appearing in their plural form in place names such as Frölunda, Odenslunda and Torslunda. In southern Scandinavia, place names such as Tislund and Torslunde occur, allthough names of this kind are interestingly absent in Norway and Iceland, except for Guslund (< *Guðslundr) and Forsetlund located in the Oslofjord (Vikstrand 2004, 173). As Vikstrand notes: “Da der Hain in liter. Qu. als sakraler Ort gut bezeugt ist [...], darf man mit Recht davon ausgegehn, daß die theophoren -lund(a)-Namen eine Art Kultplatz bezeichnet haben (Vikstrand 2004, 173) (Since the grove is well attested as a sacral place in literary sources [...], one may correctly assume that the theophoric -lund(a)-names indicated a kind of place of worship). Despite recent uncertainty in the field of onomastics about the sacral meaning of lund when it appears as a simplex (some exceptions nevertheless certainly mean ‘holy grove’ as with Vilunda, see Chapter 5.2.2.1 on vi), most compounds (such as Torslunda) are believed to indicate a sacral context, even if -lund is connected to non-theophoric terms (Vikstrand 2001, 274-275; Vikstrand 2004, 173; Laur 2001, 96). In her recent work on theophoric place names in the Netherlands Boshouwers notes, that the only uncontested Dutch place name containing the name of an individual pagan deity is Donderslag in Belgium, consisting of the god Donar and the Old Dutch -lô, ‘(clearing in a) forest, grove’ derived from Proto-Germanic *lauhaz (Boshouwers 2013, 40 referring to Orel 2003, 238-239). As Quak points out, one can see a close relation between the English place name Thunderley (< *Thunres-lēah) and the Scandinavian place name Torslunda (Quak 2002, 60; Boshouwers 2013, 40 also referring to Gelling 1973, 121-122). As Quak notes:

97

Interessant daarbij is dat het element lôh in het Oudhoogduits als appellatief is overgeleverd met de specifieke betekenis ‘heilig bos’, als weergave van lat. lūcus(3) ‘bos(je), heilig bos’ en wel in niet minder dan 15 van de 16 glossen (Quak 2002, 60)

(Interestingly, in Old High German the element lôh is transmitted as an appellative with the specific meaning of ‘holy grove’, as representation of the lat. lūcus(3) ‘grove, holy grove’ in no less than 15 of the 16 glosses.)

Green too accepts this relationship between the Old High German lôh, Old English lēah and the Latin term lūcus and notes “in agreement with Latin the German form means ‘clearing, holy grove’ whilst the English proceeds from ‘open ground’ to ‘meadow’” (Green 1998, 26). He further adds: “Although infrequently, the religious function is still attested in OHG, but with the evidence from place-names it is again difficult to tell whether they refer to an earlier religious site (perhaps most probably in the case of Heiligenloh [see Chapter 5.2.1.2])” (Green 1998, 26). As implied above, a number of English place names contain names of deities connected to Old English -lēah meaning ‘sacred grove’, including not only Thunderley but also Tuesley, Thundersley and Wensley, all of which show strong parallels to the earlier noted Scandinavian names (Insley 2001, 429-433). Green nonetheless suspects Viking influence for the place name Tuesley which would speak for a later origin (Green 1998, 25). Not a single theophoric place name containing the name of a god and the term -loh(e) exists in Germany. Other place names ending in -loh(e), such as Ahle (< Aderlo; see Köbler GOLD), and the discussion of a potential cultic meaning must remain open for future research.

5.2.1.3 -eke / Eiche The phenomena of sacred trees in early cultures are found all over the world. Their annual rebirth of vegetation has led to “trees being regarded as the embodiment of the life principle and the bearers of supra-mundane power” (Brink 2001, 98). Names of trees, such as the Old High German eichi, often appear in place names as a collective term (Förstemann 1863, 59- 60), but also in the singular (see Vikstrand) related to individual sacred trees. Here oak seems to stand out. The natural question arrises as to whether these names exist in Scandinavia, referring to the pre-Christian myth of Yggdrasill as a world tree (Latin axis mundi), a sacred tree that

98 connects both gods and their residences and other parts of the mythological world as mentioned in both Vǫluspá and Grímnismál (cf. Vǫluspá st. 19: Eddukvæði 2014; Grímnismál st. 35: Eddukvæði 2014; cf. Snorri Sturluson 1987; see also Klitgaard 2018). As Brink notes, trees were often planted as symbolic centres of Norwegian and Swedish farms, a tradition that was in use until the end of the 19th century. A tree of this kind represented “the continuity of life for the people living on the farm and was the omnipresent link with the ancestors” (Brink 2001, 99; see also Klitgaard 2018, 144-146 on oak trees). As noted above, it is naturally difficult to be certain about the sacral connotation of a place name including a tree. Exceptions are a few instances where a group of sacral place names in the immediate vicinity support the assumption (Brink 2001, 99). In Sweden, however a few presumably sacral place names ending in -eke ‘oaks, population of oaks’ also seem to present a variation of the -lund(a)-names (see Chapter 5.2.1.3), as with Onsike (< *Odhinseke), Torseke and Hälke (< *Hælghaeke) (Vikstrand 2004, 173). Some early literary accounts certainly refer to oaks that were dedicated to the pagan deity Donar, so-called Donar oaks. The Vita Sancti Bonifatii Archiepiscopi Moguntini for example tells about Saint Boniface (c. 673-/754755), who in 723 AD cut down robur Iovis, the holy oak of Jovis/Jupiter, at Gaesmere (presumably Geismar near Fritzlar, Hesse) in order to convert the local population:“Quorum consult atque consilio roborem quondam mirae magnitudinis, qui prisco paganorum vocabulo appellatur robor Iobis,34 in loco qui dicitur Gaesmere, servis Dei secum adstantibus, succidere temptavit” (Willibaldus 1905, 31) (With their counsel and help, he managed to cut down an enormous oak [located] in a place that was named Gaesmere, which had been called Oak of Jovis with its old heathen name, in the presence of his accompanying servants of God). Krutzler feels that due to the spatial and temporal specification of this event, the account appears more trustworthy than if Willibald had only briefly mentioned that Boniface destroyed pagan tree sanctuaries (Krutzler 2011, 116). It is possible that the story of Irminsul (Old Saxon and Old High German ‘enormous pillar’) also reflects a testimonial for pre-Christian tree cults, as different annals describe Irminsul as fanum ‘sanctuary temple’, lucum ‘grove, wood’ (see also Chapter 4.4) or idolum ‘idol’ (Springer

34Krutzler notes that a sanctuary in 8th century Hesse was presumingly dedicated to a Germanic deity rather than to a heathen Roman god. He supports the idea of robor Iobis being an academic interpretation made by Willibald or his informant (Krutzler 2011, 117). Direct evidence of a relationship between Donar and oaks are, however, rare (Heizmann 1986, 533-534; see the following page on Coill Tomair). 99 2000, 504; Simek 2006, 222-223; Krutzler 2011, 134). The Einhardi Annales state the following about the event which took place in the year 772:

Rex vero Karlus, congregato apud Wormaciam generali conventu, Saxoniam bello adgredi statuit, eamque sine mora ingressus, ferro et igni cuncta depopulatus, Aeresburgum castrum coepit, idolum quod Irminsul a Saxonibus vocabatur evertit. In cuius destruction cum in eodem loco per triduum moraretur, contigit ut, propter continuam caeli serenitatem exsiccates omnibus illius loci rivis ac fontibus, aqua ad bibendum inveniri non posset (Einhard 1826, 151).

(But King Charles, after the general meeting held in Worms, decided to go to war against the Saxons, and he went there without delay, destroying all by iron and fire, he wanted them to build a fortified camp in Aeresburg, and wanted them to fell the idol called Irminsul by the Saxons. With this destruction, while they were in the place for three days, this place turned such a way because of a perpetually quiet sky, in all the places around, the rivers and the springs went dry, and it was not possible to fetch drinkable water (based on a translation by Mikael Laffont.)

The Annales Iuvavenses Minores, meanwhile notes that in the year 772, “Karolus idolum Saxonorum combussit, quod dicebant Irminsul” (Pertz (ed.) 1836b, 88) (Charles destroyed the idol of the Saxons, which they called Irminsul), the Annales Laurissenses Moinores stating “Karlus in Saxonia castrum Aeresburg expugnat, fanum et lucum eorum famosum Irminsul subvertit” (Pertz (ed.) 1836a, 117) (After Charles had conquered the castle of Aeresburg [Eresburg] in Saxony, he destroyed the infamous sanctuary and wood Irminsul). Poeta Saxo meanwhile describes Irminsul as being “cuius similis factura columne” (Poeta Saxo 1899, 8) (similar to the structure of a pillar). Krutzler concludes: “Ob dieser an den Kultstätten der Irminsul geübte Kult noch der ursprüngliche Kult der Weltsäule war oder ob er bereits mit dem Kult eines der großen Götter verbunden war, ist [...] mangels Nachrichten nicht festzustellen” (Krutzler 2011, 135) (owing to the lack of information, we cannot be certin whether the cult practiced at the cult site of Irminsul was still the original cult of the axis mundi, or whether it had already become connected to the cult of one of the major deities). Simek notes that the Irminsul can be classified as Gallo-Roman cultic monument and a connection to the cult of poles that is provable since the Bronze Age (Simek 2006, 223). Other examples exist from later times. In the Viking Period, Dublin came under Viking control, and the Annals of Inisfallen reports an oak forest (Coill Tomair) near Dublin, which according to Marstrander was also dedicated to Þórr (Marstrander 1915, 84-85). According to the annals, this forest was destroyed in 999/1000 AD: “Caill Tomair do loscud doib do 100 chonnud” (they burned Caill Tomair like firewood) (Annals of Inisfallen 2002/2008, 174/175) (see also De Vries 1937, 101; Sonne 2013, 65; and Waggoner, Gundarsson with Paxon 2018, 115). As Sonne points out, however, Scandinavian place names in Ireland are rare, Nordic place names were only recorded after the Norman invasion of the second half of the 12th century and did not survive into the contemporary Irish language, in which local place names have been preserved, he concludes:

Tomars skov er derfor sandsynligvis ikke en irsk gengivelse af et nordisk stednavn, men en local irsk betegnelse for en skov ved Dublin. Vi ved således ikke, hvorledes skoven blev omtalt af vikingerne. Det udelukker ikke, at der kan være tale om skov, da irske stednavne kan opvise nordiske navneelementer, men vi så tidligere, at Tomar blev anvendt som betegnelse for Dublin, og det ligger derfor nær at se stednavnet Tomars skov som betydende alene Dublins skov eller skoven ved Dublin (Sonne 2013, 67).

Waggoner, Gundarsson and Paxon nonetheless point out that oaks were associated with thunder gods in Baltic, Slavic, Celtic, Greek as well as (Waggoner, Gundarsson with Paxon 2018, 115 referring to Davidson 1965, 86-88). Klitgaard points out that oaks seem to “have been prone (then and now) to be struck by lightning thereby manifesting the power of the sky god Þórr” (Klitgaard 2018, 168). There is thus logical reason to look for place names with such endings in Germany. Future research might well look into names such as Dreieichenhain mening ‘grove of three oaks’ (Hesse) which together with Götzenhain (‘grove of idols’) forms two districts of the city of Dreieich.

5.2.1.4 -åker / Acker Being subject to the reproductive circle of life, it seems evident, that arable land was also sometimes considered holy by people. A good example of this is seen in the case Víga-Glúms saga depicting a magical field of unlimited resources (Jónas Kristjánsson 1965, 22-29). Theophoric place names ending in -åker ‘field, acre’ (Germ. ‘Acker’) are evenly spread over Scandinavia, but most frequently in central Sweden and Norway. Here, sacral names such as Guåker (< *Guðakr) and Ulsåker (< *Ullinsakr) in Norway and Odensåker in Sweden certainly seem to reveal that certain fields had been used for religious purposes or in a religious context during the pre-Christian period, something that would probably be unknown without the evidence of place names (Vikstrand 2001, 427). Only a few certain names are found in the more southern regions, however one example here is Torsager in Denmark (Vikstrand 2004, 101 175). It is, nonetheless, difficult to certainly identify the precise cultic meaning of such place names, as Murphy points out: “The very character of an akr as cultivated land hinders the differentiation of religiously charged arable fields from fields not so charged” (Murphy 2016, 150). In this context it is worth noting that a number of English place names surviving from the period of Anglo-Saxon settlement certainly show the names of gods being connected to the terms field, feld in the sense of ‘open land’, such as Thunderfield (< þunresfelda), Wedenesfield (< Wodnesfeld), which mirror the Scandinavian åker-names (Insley 2001, 432-433). There are, however, no certain theophoric place names in the Dutch area, Frösåker (<*Frôn-ackar) potentially coming from the name Freyr, whose name is rarely if ever found in place names outside of Sweden and Norway (Brink 2007, 109-111). Due to this fact and the complete lack of such place names, the god Freyr is not included in this survey. being the only one worth considering here Boshouwers, nevertheless, points out that it is “highly doubtful however that there ever was such a god in the Low Countries, as there is no other evidence of him, and therefore a more worldly interpretation seems preferable” (Boshouwers 2013, 44; referring to Green 1998, 25). Förstemann dates certain potentially theophoric Old High German place names including Acker ‘acre’ to the 8th and 9th century (Förstemann 1863, 80), something which is a rather late development considering the state of Christianisation at this time in Central Europe.

5.2.1.5 -vangr / -wang The Old High German form wang ‘field, meadow’ also ‘fenced meadow’ is not represented within the Middle High German literary vocabulary, but is certainly found in the sense of an ‘area covered with plants’ in German place names (Reitzenstein 2013, 158). The Old High German form wang is found unattached, in names such as Wanga, as well as in compounds, such as Balderschwang (see Chapter 5.6) sometimes combined with the suffix -en. In compounded place names, it occasionally appears without the initial sound w-, something which impedes the interpretation. Förstemann points out that this type of name appears almost exclusively in the area of southern Germany and in potential theophoric names (Förstemann 1863, 62). The Anglo-Saxon form is vang, something which nonetheless is hardly represented by English names. The ON form vangr evidently belongs to the same category as the -akr-names.

102 Scandinavian place names such as Torsång (< Thorsvanger) in Sweden or Ullensvang (< Ullinsvangr) in Norway imply theophoric meaning (Brink 2007, 115, 135). In the past Magnus Olsen explained the name in terms of “a special kind of meadow (vangr) often was located beside the hof sanctuaries [see Chapter 5.2.2.3 for the discussion of hof] in Norway as an equivalent to the kirkevangen” (M. Olsen 1926, 218). There is certainly a number of German place names containing the element -wang, it is however likely that they, at some point, lost their original meaning – if there ever was any religios meaning at all – and grew profane.

5.2.1.6 Other Secondary Elements Relating to Natural Sites There are a number of other potential secondary elements referring to natural features that sometimes appear within the context of sacral Scandinavian place names. However, these elements are, as will be seen below, not represented at all in German potential theophoric place names. It is, nevertheless, important to briefly mention these elements here, in order to give an overview of the diversity and informative value of Scandinavian place names all of which are worth leaving in mind for future study into Germanic theophoric names. Murphy provides a usefull table of key-elements including examples of sacral place names found in Scandinavia:

• -ø/-ö/-ey ‘isle, island’, as in Ullerø (Norway) • -eng/-äng ‘meadow’, as in Torsång (< Thorsanger; Sweden) • -fors ‘rapids, waterfall’, such as Odensfors (Sweden)35 • -holme ‘islet, island, peninsula’, as in Odensholmen (Sweden) • -land ‘(grass)land, field, arable land, area, region’, as in Nærland (< *Niærþarland; Norway) • -nes/-næs ‘headöamd, peninsula’, as in Torsnes (Norway) • -sjö/-sø ‘sea, lake’, as in Torsjö (Sweden) • -vin ‘meadow’, as in Ullinsvin (Norway) • -völlr/-vall ‘field, level, ground’, as in Torsvallen (Sweden)

35 Landnámabok speaks of a man called Þorsteinn Rauðnefur who made sacrifices to a waterfall (cf. 22, an anecdote that “is one of the most detailed descriptions of a pagan cult in the whole Book of Settlements” (cf. Hermann Pálsson and Edwards (ed.) 2006, 149-150; cf, Jakob Benediktsson (ed.) 1968; Egeler 2016, 280). 103 • -haugr ‘(burial) mound’, as in Torshov (<*Þór(i)shaugr) (Murphy 2016, 148-149 see also Vikstrand 2001 and Brink 2007).

The English place name Weoland is recorded in a single spelling dating to the 13th century, potentially deriving from Old English wēoh-land ‘land near a heathen temple’. Gelling however notes that this interpretation is highly uncertain (Gelling 1973, 124). Beside the uncertain Weoland, no other theophoric place names containing any of the terms above can be attested for the Anglo-Saxon area of England (cf. Gelling 1973). The German equivalent to the Scandinavian -vatn ‘water’ (sometimes found in theophoric place names in the Nordic area), is found in German place names, in form of New High German Wasser, Old High German wazar. However, it is not common place names in the German-speaking area and not found in a theophoric context (Förstemann 1863, 27). There is however good reason for future research to consider place names connected to early springs and wells, with endings such as -brunnen, -brunn or -born. Indeed, found in placenames such as Baldersborn or Pholesbrunno (see Chapter 5.6), the worldwide distribution of the motif of holy springs and well-sanctuaries is striking as is the evidence for the continuity of related customs from pagan to Christian times, ancient names often being firmly replaced by those of saints (Rattue 1995, 21).

5.2.2 Elements Referring to Man-Made Features 5.2.2.0 Introduction This has been an ongoing debate about, whether at some point pre-Christian cults moved from being practised in an outdoor-setting into the environment of settlement areas or even proper cult buildings (Gunnell 2001, 6-9). The main question regarding sacral place names is whether they represent such “man-made” cult sites. In general, as has been noted above, settlement names are not usually compounded with names of deities (although they may have cultic names if a late settlement grows around an earlier cultic site). As Laur points out, “daß Götternamen nicht als Bestimmungswörter von Ortsnamen auftreten, deren Grundwörter typische Siedlungsbezeichnungen darstellen” (Laur 2001, 34) (names of deities do not occur as determinative elements in place names where the fundament represents a typical term for the name of settlement). (Laur 2001, 34). Laur, however, adds “Im Bereich der alten Heiligtümer entwickelten sich Siedlungen, die nun die

104 Benennungen dieser Plätze als Ortsnamen übernahmen. Aus der Bezeichnung oder der Benennung für eine Kultstätte wurde ein Ortsname” (Laur 2001, 23) (In settlements developed, the vicinity of ancient sanctuaries adopting these sites as a place name. The description or appellation of the cult site thus became a place name). A great number of German settlement names, nonetheless, provides information about where and when the Germanic tribes settled. For example, place names ending in -heim ‘home’ are frequently found around the areas of the Middle Rhine, Rhenish Hesse and the Palatinate, areas which contain a great number of early medieval fields of burials (Reihengräberfelder). Bach feels that a “Franconianisation” of the name hoard then took place in large areas of Hesse, Thurungia, East Franconia, Bavaria, Westphalia, Lower Saxony and even parts of Austria during the 6th and 7th centuries (Debus and Schmitz 2004, 3488; se also Bach 1954, §483). Settlement names ending in -heim, -dorf and -bach clearly remained productive during the 7th until the 9th century, where new settlement names ending in -weiler, -hofen and -hausen occurred at that time (Debus 2012, 163). As noted above, none of these endings are found compounded with names of gods in the Germanic areas. There are, however, a number of secondary elements referring to other man-made structures that appear to have a sacral connotation, although once again these name types occur primarily in Scandinavia. These elements thus need to be introduced, because they are also found in the Germanic areas. It is also natural to compare these German names to their British and OHG equivalents to see if any similarities can be determined, and whether this comparison shows anything about dating.

5.2.2.1 -vé / -vi / wih It is evident that the Germanic word *wîhaz, *wîha(m) was the general word for a sanctuary, a temple or a temple district, and that the Old High German wîh derives from this, eventhough the substantive is only mentioned once, the Old High German adjective wîh having the same meaning as heilag ‘holy’ (see Chapter 5.1.1.2) (Green 1998, 28; Laur 2001, 89; Helm 1953, 170; Ilkow 1968, 410; see also Wesche 1932; Baetke 1942; and Andersson 1992b). The Old Saxon wîh, with the meaning ‘sanctuary, temple, holy site’, parallels the OE wîg or weoh meaning ‘idol’. The same word (wîh) is found in the Gothic weiha means ‘priest’ and the adjective weihs ‘holy, sacred’, while the Old West Norse languages have the form vé meaning ‘sanctuary, temple, temple district’ and the Old East Norse form wî (see Ringgren, Ström 1959, 406; Laur

105 2001, 100). In Scandinavia we frequently find the Old Norse form -vé, (OS –vi) as the second element of a place name which includes a god’s name, as in Danish Odense < Óðins vé, which certainly has areligious meaning (Ringgren, Ström 1959, 406; Green 1998, 28; Laur 2001, 89; Vikstrand 2001, 298; Brink 2001, 105; Brink 2008, 63). As Green adds: “It occurs once in OHG with the meaning ‘sanctuary’, more frequently in OS, where it denotes the Jewish temple (Green 1998, 28). The only Old High German example where wîh, forst and haruc are given as alternatives to the Latin nemus, indicate that wîh must have meant a sanctuary in the woodlands (Green 1998, 28). Discussing the use of the word in English place names, Gelling, notes “The two main words considered to be used in English place-names to denote a heathen temple are hearg and wīg, wēoh. The second of these is much the more difficult to identify with certainty” (Gelling 1973, 110). Gelling’s reason for this statement is that “the evidence for an adjective *wēoh ‘holy’ in English place-names is not sufficiently strong for it to be regarded as established” (Gelling 1973, 114). It is noteworthy that in England this element does not occur in place names in combination with the name of a deity (Gelling 1962, 9; cf. Wilson 1985). With regard to the Nordic countries, Vikstrand notes that the only name of a deity connected to the secondary element -vi in southern Scandinavia seems to be Odin (as in Odense). Exceptions in the Nordic countires are Ullevi and Gotavi where structures have been found. More frequently, vi/ve is found as a first element connected to secondary terms describing natural features, especially in Norway and Sweden (cf. Vilunda and Vimosse), something which suggests the existence of a pre-Old Norse adjective *wīhaR ‘holy’ underlying the appellative form vi. On the basis of the existeing evidence vi (Old West Norse vé) was one of the most important designations for man-made (possibly outdoors) holy sites in pre- Christian Scandinavia (Vikstrand 2004, 174). As De Vries notes on the basis of a number of literary accounts, such as Lokasenna, Grimnismál and Vafþrúðnismál (cf. Eddukvæði 2014), that testify the sacral meaning of the term vé: “Solche Ortsnamen, deren man in Skandinavien mehrere nachgewiesen hat [...], bedeuten also ursprünglich nur etwas Heiliges, das durch die Beziehung zu einem Gotte geweiht war [...]” (De Vries 1937, 105) (Such place names, of which several have been proven in Scandinavia, accordingly refer to something holy, which was sacred because of a relationship to a god). The verses of Skúli Þórsteinsson (an Icelandic skald of the 11th century) show the skaldic adaption of the term vé:

106

Glens beðja veðr gyðju ljós kømr gótt, með geislum goðblið í vé, síðan gránserks ofan Mána (Finnur Jónsson 1912, 284).

As noted above, of particular interest in this context is that in resent years solid evidence of sacral structures has been found at three sites: Ullevi, Lille Ullevi und Gotavi in Sweden. (cf. Vikstrand 2001, 170-173, 317; Vikstrand 2010, 58-66; Brink 2001; 105-106; Murphy 2018, 35- 36). All the same, the word is not found in Icelandic placenames or sagas, suggesting it is an older form. In Germany it is only found in one Potential site: Gutenswegen (see Chapter 5.3.5).

5.2.2.2 -hǫrg / haruc Another closely related term is the Icelandic hǫrg, Old High German haruc, harug, Anglo-Saxon hearh, Old Swedish harg (‘grove, rock’) later (‘house of gods, temple?’) (Ringgren, Ström 1959, 406), which, as Förstemann notes is only found in two examples in the German-speaking area using the Old High German term harug: Negenharrie and Fiefharrie in Schleswig-Holstein (Förstemann 1863, 56). Place names with the Old Norse hǫrgr as an element in first or second place are found in place names for old settlements throughout Scandinavia. In southern Scandinavia, this element appears as a simplex, as in Höör (southern Sweden) or Harre (Denmark), or combined with -by ‘farmyard, village’ as Hörby (southern Sweden) Harreby (Denmark). Harg dominates in central Sweden, where it is found in two compounded place names including the names of gods: Odensala < Odhinshargher and Torshälla < Thorshargher. In Norway, Horg and Horge are found only linked to the secondary element –hem, and the same applies in Iceland where we find place names showing Hörg- as a first element connected to a number of terms for natural features, such as Hörgsdalur (dalur ‘valley’) and Hörgaeyri (eyri ‘sand bank, gravel bank’) neither of which are obviously related to cultic activities (Vikstrand 2004, 171). As M. Olsen notes in Old Norse place names hǫrgr essentially refers to both ‘heap of stones’ and ‘summit of a mountain’, allthough Green adds ‘place of worship’ as well as in some cases ‘mountain’ (M. Olsen 1928, 285; Green 1998, 26). M. Olsen nonetheless assumes that “Hǫrg [...] denotes the immemorial heathen sanctuary of Scandinavia, being, as a type, earlier than the hof” (M. Olsen 1928, 284) largely based on the stones in Hyndluljóð about an altar made for Freyr (M. Olsen 1928, 284). Verse 10 of Hyndluljóð shows:

107 Haurg hann mer gerdi raud hann i nyiu hladinn steinum nauta blodi, – nu er griot þat æ trvdi Ottar at gleri vordit –, ꜳ asyniur (Hyndluljóð st. 10: Eddukvæði 2014).

As Sigurður Nordal notes the idea that hörgar (pl.) could often be made of stone is also supported by Flateyjarbók: “[...] þá lét hann brenna hof, en brjóta hörga ok reisa í staðinn kirkjur [...]” (Sigurður Nordal 1980, 37-38; Flateyjarbók 1944, 315). Vikstrand similarly argues that in Old Norse hǫrgr seems to represent a term for sanctuary, pointing out that the etymological origin presumably lies in the Proto-Germanic adjective *harugha- ‘stony’ derived from the substantive har ‘stony ground’ seen in the place names noted above (cf. Swed. Hårga, Lauphargi) (Vikstrand 2004, 171-172). Laur is of the same opinion, underlining: “Es ist […] schwer zu entscheiden, ob ein allgemeiner oder ein sakraler Ortsname vorliegt, wenn nicht Götternamen als Bestimmungswörter oder andere eindeutige Hinweise gegeben sind” (Laur 2001, 89) (it is difficult to decide whether a common or a sacral place name is present, unless gods’ names as determinative elements or other indications are given) (Laur 2001, 89). In Old English it is certainly clear that hearg could denote ‘wood’ and ‘holy grove’ as well as a pagan ‘sanctuary’ or ‘idol’ (M. Olsen 1928, Wilson 1985, 179-183; Green 1998, 26). Gelling certainly accepts English place names containing hearg or hœrg as having sacral meaning, as in Harrow (< hergae, Hearge) or Harrowden (< Herghetone) (Gelling 1973, 120). As Wilson has interestingly noted, such names in England are commonly found on hills, while –vi place names appear by Roman roads (Wilson 1985, 179-183; Briggs 2009, 44;).

The Old High German harug is one of the earliest attested forms before the 10th century when Latin translations occur, such as ara, delubrum, fanum, lucus and nemus,36 the meanings of which range from ‘altar’ to ‘sanctuary, chapel’ and ‘holy grove’. None of the terms suggest a large site of worship, but rather a small grove (Krutzler 2011, 148; Green 1998, 26), an idea supported by De Vries and several literary sources, such as Vǫluspá st.7 and Grimnismál st. 16 (around 1000) (also see Chapter 5.2.2.3) (cf. Eddukvæði 2014; see De Vries 1937, 108-109).

36The word nimid is only attested in one Latin gloss, referring to religious rites performed in the woods. It has been suggested that nimid would reflect the Old Saxon word nimidas, which (probably a loanword) resembles the Celtic nemetos ‘holy’, nemeton ‘sanctuary’. Through the close relationship of nimid and nemus, the meaning of religious practice taking place in a wood can be accepted (Green 1998, 26-27). 108 Considering the age of these terms in a sacral sense, it is logical to look for similarplace names in Germany.

5.2.2.3 -hov / -hof The Old High German (and New High German) word Hof originally refered to a fenced area, is today used as term for a farm building (Förstemann 1863, 83). Alongside the frequent appearance of the simplex Hov within the area of central Norway and Iceland, hov also often occurs as theophoric compound as in Froihov, Torshov (Andersson 1998, 100-101). It also appears as a first term in a number of compounds with -vin ‘meadow, willow’, as in Hovin and Höven, and with -land, as in Hovland in Norway. It is also found in this form in Iceland (cf. Hofstaðir) and in the Faroe Islands (Brink 1998, 260; Vikstrand 2004, 172; Svavar Sigmundsson 1992, 248). Three main interpretative approaches have been suggested for this name: the oldest identifiable sense of the word hof seems to have been ‘hill’ which is still preserved in Norwegian vernaculars today. Next is the earlier note of the continentally widespread meaning ‘farm’ (German ‘Hof’). And finaly we have the Old Norse form hof as a term for places where the gods are supposed to dwell or buildings with potential sacral functions (Andersson 1986, 2-3; Brink 1998, 260). In Scandinavia, a distinct connection between settlements, hov- names and early churches nevertheless points towards a non-topographical explanation. Given a connection to a god’s name, the sacral meaning of the place name certainly seems evident (Vikstrand 2004, 172). As Vikstrand concludes:

Vermutlich muß man davon ausgehen, daß die allermeisten hov-Namen eine urspr. sakrale Bedeutungskomponente haben, und man darf wohl mit einer Beziehung zu irgendeiner Art Gebäude mit sakraler Funktion rechnen (Vikstrand 2004, 172).

(One must presumably assume that the meaning of the vast majority of hov- names have an initial sacral component, so one can probably expect a relationship to some kind of building with a sacral function.)

Laur agrees that hof in Old West Norse seems to refer to a sanctuary but doubts a sacral connotation for the modern Danish hov today noting that it is impossible to verify any theophoric place names containing -hof in Schleswig-Holstein (Laur 2001, 101). This raises the question of whether such a name survived further south or whether it was ever used in this 109 sense there. Indeed, the presence of hov (and lack of –vi names) in Iceland suggests it was later, and possibly related to religious activities moving indoors (Gunnell; (hof) and Olaf Olsen, Hørg, Hov og Kirke). The lack of such place names in England supports the same idea (cf. Gelling 1973). As Andersson points out, “die Bedeutung ‘Hof’ gemeingermanisch ist” (the meaning ‘farm’ is common Germanic) and further notes “Die kultische Bedeutung des Wortes Hof ist also hauptsächlich oder […] sogar ausschließlich durch die nordischen Sprachen vertreten” (The cultic meaning of the word hof is thus nearly […] exclusively represented by the Norse languages) (Andersson 1986, 3). Hof are also regularly mentioned in this sense in the sagas, such as Eyrbyggja saga (cf. Hermann Pálsson and Edwards (eds) 1989) The meaning ‘sanctuary, temple’ is certainly well attested in Old West Norse literature and especially in sagas and poetry. Vǫluspá (from around 1000 AD) for example contains one strophe which includes both hǫrgr and hof, in what seems to be a clear sacral meaning:

Hittuz æsir afla lögðu á Iðavelli, auð smíðuðu, þeir er hörg ok hof tangir skópu hátimbruðu; ok tól görðu (Vǫluspá st.7: Eddukvæði 2014).

While the Old East Norse literature does not show similar evidence, Andersson concludes that:

an. hof als Ortsnamenelement in Norwegen zweifellos zum Teil kultische Bedeutung hat und daß kultische hof-Namen wahrscheinlich auch in Island und Schweden, möglicherweise auch in Dänemark vorhanden sind. An. hof in kultischer Anwendung wäre damit als gemeinnordisch zu betrachten (Andersson 1986, 6).

(the ON hof as an element in place names undoubtedly has partly cultic meaning and cultic hof-names are presumably present in Iceland and Sweden, possibly in Denmark as well. Logicaly, the cultic usage of ON hof could be considered to be [of] common Norse [origin].)

In terms of the Germanic area, Walther notes that the -hof(en)-names are most frequently connected to personal names, something indicating a strong manorial element, rather than anything theophoric and Carolingian records certainly frequently equate -hofen with villa. In the German-speaking area, such names also only occur towards the end of the 7th century when Christianity was already becoming rooted in many areas (Walther 1993, 199). Olaf Olsen, suggests this idea, writing that: “The word hof, of such significance in the cult 110 vocabulary of Old Norse, has no sacred significance in the South Germanic areas, where it is used solely to describe secular enclosures and buildings” (O. Olsen 1966, 279). In spite of this, there is naturally good reason to keep an open mind.

5.2.2.4 -hem / -heim The word Old High German heim, Old Saxon hêm, ODan./OSw. hēm Old Norse heimr is a common term for a settlement simply meaning a place of residence. It is nevertheless also found in names for landscapes and locations (cf. Old Norse Þrándheimr ‘Trondheim’), and can also be used as designation for the home of gods and other beings in mythology (cf. Trúðheimr ‘home of ’) (Laur 2001, 99). Other obvious examples are Álfheimr and Jötunheimar. There are however also examples of such names appearing in Nordic placenames. As Green notes:

Scandinavian place-names of the type Gudhjem, Gudme, Gudum (

Such Scandinavian names, however, are rare and despite numerous German place names including the term -heim, as Laur notes, no such name is ever connected to that of any single deity attested for Schleswig-Holstein. Indeed, the one exception is Gudhem (see Brink) (Laur 2001, 99). After this review of the names and name-elements one might presumably potentially find in theophoric place names in Germany, we can go on to consider the relatively limited evidence.

111 5.3 Wodan in German Place Names

5.3.0 Introduction In Scandinavia, sacral place names containing the name of the deity Óðinn usually show Ons- or Odens- as the first stem. Brink has identified around 70 Scandinavian place names of this type: 49 in Sweden, eleven in Norway and eleven in Denmark (Brink 2007, 111). The following map shows the distribution of the place names including the name of Óðinn in Scandinavia:

Figure 7: The distribution of sacral place names containing the name of the god Óðinn in Scandinavia (open circles are uncertain) (Brink 2007, 112).

Brink nevertheless points out that only a number of the place names found in Norway are certain. He accepts names such as Onsåker (Østfold), Onsø (found twice in Østfold) and the lost Odhinssalr (Onsø) as well as a parallel Odhinssalr in Trøndelag as being the most certain. In Sweden, Brink accepts place names such as Onsicke (Uppland), Odensicke (Södermanland) 112 Odenslund(a) (found seven times), Odensvi (found five times) and Odhenssalr (found twice), as being fairly certain. He notes that:

many Óðinn names refer to topographical features, such as lakes, wells, islands, and mountains or hills (Odensholmen, Onsjö, Onsberga, Odens källa, Odens kulle); an interesting case are names referring to rapids, such as Odensfors in Tierp, Uppland and ?Odensfors in Gullberg, Östergötland” (Brink 2007, 113).

The Danish place names Othenshylle (today found three times as Vonsild, Onsild, Vonsild), and Othensvæ (today found five times as Oddense, Oens, Vojens, Odense and Onsved) all seem very secure to Brink (Brink 2007, 113). Beside a few exceptions, Gelling notes that the English place names containing the deity Óðinn (in the form Wodn or Weden), “seem to be open to no other reasonable explanation” (Gelling 1973, 115). Gelling accepts place names, such as Wednesbury (Staffordshire), Wednesfield (Staffordshire), Wensley, Wodnesbeorg, Wodnesdene, Wodnesfeld (Widdington), Wodneslawe (near Biggleswade) and Woodnesborough (near Sandwich) as authentic (Gelling 1973, 123-126). In the German-speaking area, only a small number of place names come into question. Most frequently, we find place names connected to the deity (in the form of Wodan/Wotan) end in –berg. These will be examined in the following:

5.3.1 Utzberg (Thuringia) 5.3.1.0 Introduction Utzberg is mountain located in the area of Weimar, in the east of Thuringia in Germany, and the neighbouring parish Utzberg is named after the mountain. The following table presents the earliest entries for the place name Utzberg, showing how it developed over time: 1123 de Wothensberc? 1343 Uthinsperg 1174 de Wodenesberg? 1428 Utisberg 1222 Wodensberg? 1484 Utinsberg 1247 Vdensberch, -berc 1498 Utinßberg, Utsberg 1248 in villa Utensberg 1506 Utisberg 1273 Utensberg 1790 Utzberg 1316 Uthinsberg 1796 Utzberg Table 1: cf. Udolph; Werneburg 1884, 79; Fuhrmann 1962, 78.

113 5.3.1.1 Literary Sources The earlier form of the place name Utzberg has associated with the Germanic deity Wodan by Fuhrmann, Werneburg and Walther (Udolph referring to Fuhrmann 1962, 78; Werneburg 1884, 79 and Walther 1971, 320). Fuhrmann notes that the name of the mountain has been transferred to the village (Furhmann 1962, 78). Udolph, too, assumes that the name of the mountain occurred first, and the neighbouring place took its name from this. At first, Udolph questioned the inclusion of the Germanic deity in the name Utzberg, however, considering the transmitted forms he now accepts the authenticity of the name. As he notes: “Es liegt somit offenbar eine alte heidnische Sitte zugrunde. Auch hier zeigt sich wieder ganz deutlich, dass Ortsnamen Altes sehr schön bewahren. Nicht alles wurde vom Christentum überlagert” (Udolph). (Apparently, it is based on old pagan custom. Once again, it is clear that place names preserve the old nicely. Not everything was concealed by Christianity).

5.3.1.2 Linguistic Forms As noted above (see Chapters 5.6), the Second Merseburg Charm from the first half of the 10th century has the form Uuodan (Wōdan), while the later Münchner Nachtsegen from the 14th century has the form Wûtan, and the Old Saxon baptismal vow from the end of the 8th century the form Wōden (Uuoden) (see Chapter 5.1.1.3). Fuhrmann suspects the name of the Germanic god as being the first element and sees the change from W- to G- being based on intentional renaming to wipe out the memories of pre-Christian beliefs. He explains the loss of the middle syllable: “Durch den Schwund der schwachtonigen Mittelsilbe entstand in unserem Namen die Lautgruppe ts, die in der Schrift mit tz wiedergegeben wurde [...]” (Fuhrmann 1962, 78) (Due to the loss of the weak middle syllable, the phonetic group ts occurred in our name, which has been expressed through tz in the script). Walther notes that the first element of the place name is derived from Old Saxon Wodan, Middle High German Woden (Walther 1971, 320). It is noteworthy that the earliest forms of the place name Utzberg Wothenesberc (1123) and Wodenesberg (1174) still contain the genitive -s, which is an important indicator of age, possibly underlining the religious affiliation of the site. Interestingly, Utzberg is only 80 km removed from Merseburg where belief in Uuoden, a form of Wodan, clearly still existed in the

114 early 10th century. The question, however, is whether belief in the Germanic god is still represented in this place name almost two centuries later? Naturally, as noted at the start we do not find any place names including Wodan- or Wotan- in Scandinavia. We do, nevertheless, find a number of -berg names connected to Old Norse deities, such as Onsberga, Odensberga, Onsbjerg, Torsberga, Ulleberg and Ullberga (Brink 2007, 25-33). In the Netherlands, meanwhile we find Woensberg, which possibly reflects the name of god Wodan in combination with the element -berg. Boshouwers points out that “Woensberg contains the same first element as [...] woensdag (which definitely refers to Wodan), and may thus have been named after the Germanic god” (Boshouwers 2013, 50- 51). In England, several early place names show significant similarities to the earlier (but difficult to assignable) forms of Utzberg: Wodnesberia (1166), Wodnesbeorge, Wodnesberga, Wanneberga (c. 1100) and so forth (Gelling 1973, 123-126).

5.3.1.3 Archaeological Evidence So far, no archaeological investigations have been carried out in the immediate surrounding of Utzberg. Nevertheless, Thuringia as an area is rich in archaeological finds and three excavation sites have been found in close proximity to Utzberg: the first site is a in the city of Weimar, located 10 km from Utzberg; the second is a minor grave find located in the area of Obergrunstedt, only 7 km from Utzberg; and the third is a water sanctuary situated near Possendorf, 12 km from Utzberg. In Weimar, a great number of graves containing rich burial goods have been excavated in the past decades. Götze wrote an extensive report addressing the burial grounds of Weimar and the lesser surrounding remains in 1912, in which he notes that: “[...] daß die Gegend von Weimar um das 5. bis 6. Jahrhundert n. Chr. ein Hauptsitz altthüringischer Kultur war” (Götze 1912, 2) ([...] the area of Weimar represented the central seat of Old Thurungian culture from the 5th until the 6th centuries AD). Overall, the excavation consisted of 88 graves arranged in rows, of which 29 were male and 46 were female graves, while another ten graves could not be determined. There were three graves of . The graves were all orientated in east-west direction, as was common at that time. They contained fully dressed and decorated bodies which were accompanied by weapons, all sorts of articles of daily use as well as food (Götze 1912, 5-7). In Thuringia, graves including horses occur as early as the 5th century, underlining

115 that we are now dealing with a widespread type of princely tombs (Simek 2005, 111-112; see also Chapter 5.3.4.3). According to Götze, the of the oldest extensive group of finds suggests a dating to a period around the second half of the 5th century. He notes that the finds in question occur in large numbers, a number of fibulas even showing runic inscriptions written in left-to-right of the elder Fuþark (Götze 1912, 22-27). Martin nevertheless dates a buckle found in grave 56 to the middle of the 6th century (Martin 2004, 186), noting in a paper from 2004 that prior to around 500 AD, continental runic inscriptions (outside of Scandinavia) are only found in two regions: along the coastlines of North-western Germany and its hinterlands between the Elbe and Rhine as well as in neighbouring coastal areas of the Netherlands, and then loosely scattered across the area running from the Oder to the South-eastern region of Poland as well as between the Vlatava and the Carpathian Basin. In these areas, the runic alphabet apparently persisted until long after 500 (Martin 2004, 167, 174). The Weimar graves thus clearly belong within the Germanic context, underlining that these tribes had a pre-Christian mindset. Addressing the later group of runic inscriptions, Martin adds that:

[...] alle kontinentalen Runeninschriften, die südlich einer von der Rheinmündung bis zum Zusammenfluß von Elbe und Saale verlaufenden Linie entdeckt wurden, [stammen] frühestens aus dem mittleren 6. Jahrhundert oder nachfolgenden Jahrzehnten. Dies betrifft also alle Belege, die in Gebieten zutage kamen, in denen seit dem 4./5. Jahrhundert die westgermansichen Volksgruppen der Franken, Alamannen oder Thüringer siedelten (Martin 2004, 171).

(all continental runic inscriptions that have been discovered south of a line drawn from the mouth of the Rhine to the confluence of Elbe and Saale, date back to the middle of the 6th century or the subsequent decades at the earliest. This applies to all the evidence that has been found in areas where the West- Germanic groups of the Franks, Alamanni, or Thuringians settled after the 4th/5th centuries.)

In short, to Martin’s mind, the Weimar material must be later than Götze assumed. With regard to beliefs, in his article from 2012/2013 Schimpff notes that a number of spoons showing Christian decorations from early Merovingian graves, such as one spoon found in grave 52 in Weimar, point to the existence of early Arian

116 Christianity and thus show that the population of Weimar in the 5th and 6th centuries were not unfamiliar with the coming religion (Schimpff 2012/2013, 16). According to Götze, the youngest finds are objects showing Germanic animal- ornamentation which can be dated to the 7th century. After that time, the cemetery was presumably relocated to the church yard (Götze 1912, 23). As Schimpff notes, however, from an archaeological point of view, there are no signs of churches here before the 7th and 8th centuries. He nevertheless adds, on the basis of the spoons and more, that a number of Germanic tribes had already been Christian in the Migration Period and early Merovingian Period (Schimpff 2012/2013, 17-19). A less extensive grave find dating to the Roman Imperial era in the area of Obergrunstedt, 7km removed from Utzberg, was unearthed in 2006. The grave goods here include pottery, a pair of Roman influenced fibulas, an amber and two rings made of bronze (Grasselt 2010/2011, 118-122). Although the arrangement and nature of the grave goods suggest a connection to East-Germanic pagan cult, the burial custom definitely shows Roman influence (Gasselt 2010/2011, 125). As Gasselt notes:

Ostgermanische Kontakte [...] sind für Thüringen seit der jüngeren Latènezeit von Bedeutung. [...] In den frühen Kontext gehört die Altfundstelle von Possendorf, Tobritzteich, ein Moorheiligtum nur ca. 2,2 km nordöstlich von Obergrunstedt. Das einzige erhaltene von ehemals sechs vorhanden gewesenen Gefäßen, die um die Pfahlgottheit standen, war ostgermanischer Art [...]. Unter den [...] weiteren Funden befanden sich außerdem spätkaiserzeitliche Keramik [...]. Zwingend sind das keine Kontinuitätsbeweise. Jedoch scheinen im sakralen Alltag der Bevölkerungen neben der im Raum vergleichbaren materiellen Kultur auch geistige Brücken nach Osten bestanden zu haben (Gasselt 2010/2011, 125).

(After the younger La Tène period, East-Germanic contacts were of importance for Thuringia. The archaeological site of Possendorf, Tobritzteich, a sacred bog only 2.2 km north-east of Obergrunsted belongs to this early context. The only surviving vessel of six, which were positioned around the cult figure, was of East- Germanic style. Among the additional finds, Roman Imperial pottery has also been found. This is not necessarily a proof of continuity. Alongside the comparable material culture of the area, intellectual bridges to the east seem to have continued to be present in the everyday sacral life of the population.)

The third archaeological find is that situated at Possendorf, 12 km from Utzberg which is mentioned in the quote by Gasselt above. In contrast to the two previously discussed grave finds, the archaeological investigations here strongly suggested that this site represents a small bog or water sanctuary, which was presumably of local significance. Considering the site 117 of Possendorf and the major sacred bog of Oberdorla (see Chapter 5.3.3.2; Figure 9) in a comparative context, Behm-Blancke notes that, on the basis of the preserved ceramics, this Germanic sanctuary must have seen its cultural heyday at some time during the La Tène period (Behm-Blancke 2003, 19). Unfortunately, as Gasselt notes, of the archaeological find of 1858 only one of seven clay pots in which are said to have been found has survived, along with a decorated ceramic fragment and a kettle made of bronze. A limestone object in the form of a bird head as well as an approximately 90 cm high idol made of oak wood, which reportedly had a head with slit eyes and a pushed in nose and raised arms made of aspen wood, has now been lost. Also lost are a Roman enamel disk showing an eagle, a thick piece of oak and the remains of a human body (about which no details remain), which were found in proximity to the idol (Behm-Blancke 2003, 84; referring to Peschel 1989, 45). The remaining clay pot has been dated to the late La Tène or the early Roman Imperial period, while the ceramic fragment can be classified as belonging to the late Roman period. The kettle is assumed to represent a Roman product of the same period. It remains unclear as to which period the idol belongs (Behm-Blancke 2003, 84). It is also noteworthy that according to the first report of the find, a great number of oak trunks situated just short distance from each other were also discovered. It seems like they were intentionally set up around the small lake that formed the sanctuary (see also the discussion of holy oaks in Chapter 5.2.1.3) (Klopfleisch 1871, 75).

5.3.1.4 Conclusion A examination of the primary sources that first mention Wothensberg or Wodenesberg, reveals that there seems to be a discrepancy regarding the wording of the place in question: This problem is primarily connected to several notes by Archbishop Adalbert I of Mainz, all of which involve events in the period between 1119 and 1133 witnessed by a certain “Herimanno de Gůdenesberch” (1119), “Hermannus de Wothenesberc” (1123), “Herimannus de Guthenesberche” (1128) and “Hermannus de Wodenesberch” (Gudenus, 1743, 59; Stimming, 1932, 388, 410, 459, 500). It is not clear exactly where the arbitrary change from G- to W- within this short period of time comes from. It is nonetheless evident that the same place is being referred to by the author and that this Hermannus has a certain connection to it. Addressing the text from 1123, Bein notes in 1863 that “Hermannus de Wothenesberc” seems to be “Stammvater der von Utensberg oder Utzberg (zwischen Erfurt und Weimar), die mit

118 1400 verschwinden” (Bein 1863, 77) (an ancestor from of Utensberg or Utzberg (between Erfurt and Weimar), who had vanished by 1400). In 1170, another document which was sent by the Emperor Friedrich I from the monastery at Fulda to the imperial abbey of Fulda, also mentions Wuodenesberg (see Figure 8).

Figure 8: Wuodenesberg in a document from 1170, HStAM Bestand Urk. 75 Nr. 130; (online).

At that time both Gudensberg (which forms part of Hesse today; see Chapter 5.3.3) and Utzberg belonged to Thuringia and unfortunately the document does not make it clear which one is being addressed by the writer of the monastery in Fulda. Given the fact that Utzberg and Gudensberg are only 160 km apart from each other, it is difficult to decide which place these documents refer to. Additionally, there is no earlier indication for the existence of Utzberg. It would presumably be too late for a true theophoric place name to have originated shortly before the 12th century. In this case, once again, a background in a personal name seems possible. As noted, as previous scholarship has not sufficiently addressed the place name from a linguistic point of view, the origin of the name remains open to further examinations. Nonetheless, it should be remembered that Utzberg is located in an area of Germany where a great number of archaeological sites have been discovered that indicate the existence of a Germanic population. As Greule notes, the strong Germanic layer of place names in Thuringia reflects the fact that a Germanic population must have existed in this area from around 400 BC until around 600/650 AD (Greule 2009, 106). Bemmann confirms this as the basis of the archaeological investigations noted above. He adds that, from an archaeological point of view, a profound cultural change took place in Central Germany sometime in the period of transition between the Migratgion Period and the Merovingian Period, around the middle of the 5th century. The visible expression of this can be seen primarily in the change in traditional garb which is archaeologically indicated by the new position of fibulas inside the graves. The types

119 of grave goods found inside male graves also change fundamentally, weapons occurring regularly in the Merovingian Period. The arrangement of the bodies also change from all possible positions in a mostly North-South orientation in the Migration Period to a consistently stretched out posture in an East-West orientation in Merovingian times (Bemmann 2009, 66- 68). Bemmann notes: “Während der Merowingerzeit zeichnet sich eine Gliederung in kleine Gruppen ab, deren Zusammensetzung sowohl durch die Zugehörigkeit zu einer sozialen Gruppe [...] als auch durch den Zeitfaktor beeinflusst wurden” (Bemmann 2009, 68) (During the Merovingian period, an organisation into smaller groups emerged, the constitution of which was influenced by social group as well as time). All in all, the literary sources (despite their lateness), the comparable placenames elsewhere, as well as the close proximity to three archaeological sites would seem to positively influence the question of the authenticity of the place name Utzberg as a theophoric place name. The grave finds of Weimar and the cult site of Possendorf underline cultural continuity in spite of periods of heavy migration as well as strong influence from more advanced civilisations. It is thus possible that this area kept parts of pre-Christian culture alive while other areas were more influenced by either the Roman Empire or early Christianity. All in all, this evidence suggests that the central area of Germany, including large parts of Thuringia, might be a good site for future research into the field of sacral place names in the German- speaking area.

5.3.2 (Bad) Godesberg (North Rhine-Westphalia) 5.3.2.0 Introduction Today, Bad Godesberg is the south-easternmost of the four districts of the city of Bonn and marks the transition from the Middle to the Lower Rhine area. The name derives from the prominent mountain Godesberg overlookinhg the Rhine Valley, which further serves as foundation for a 13th century fortress called Godesburg. The castle was founded in 1210, and was repeatedly extended over the centuries. Today’s fortress includes a small chapel, dedicated to St . (Haentjes 1960, 96-98). As to the derivation of the name of the mountain Godesberg, Bursch gives following information: Carol.period Guodenesberg 1262 Godesbergh 1363 Gudesberg 801/814 Guodanesmonte 1265 Gudensberg 1372 Gudesberch (lat.)

120 893 Gadenberhc 1284 Gudesberg 1450 Gudesberg 947 Vuodenesberg 1289 Gudensberg 1533 Godesparg 973 Vuodenesberg 1299 Godesberg 1538 Godesperg 1131 Gudenesberg 1309 Godesberch 1583 Godesberg 1140 Woudenesberch 1319 Gudensbergh 1733 Gudesberg 1143 Gudensberg 1331 Godensberg 1749 Godesberg 1249 Godesberg 1337 Gudesberg 1808/09 Godesberg

Table 2: cf. Bursch 1987, 67-70.

5.3.2.1 Literary Sources Discussions of this place name hs appeard in a number of scholarly works and start with Grimm in 1835. He already notes Godesberg in connection with theophoric place names in German-speaking areas in his Deutsche Mythologie (Grimm 1835, I, 126). De Vries notes that an older documentary entry mentions Wodenesberg (De Vries 1956, I: 344). He nonetheless notices that he cannot determine any relevant connection to early settlements or social bodies, as occurs with many theophoric place names in Scandinavia (de Vries 1956, I: 49), but stresses that the name Wodansberg or Godesberg is proof enough for the cult of this deity (de Vries 1956, II: 40). This is, however, a rather romantic idea, considering the small number of names of this type in Germany. A number of other theories about the background of the name should thus be taken into account. Förstemann simply notes in his Altdeutsches Namenbuch that the place is named “Von einem heidnischen kultus auf dem überliegenden hügel” (Förstemann 1967, 1078) (after a heathen cult of the hill lying above [the village]). Sturmfels and Bischof have also given several forms for Godesberg (Gudensberg in 893, Vuodenesberg in 947, Gudenesberg 1131, Godesbergh in 1421) but these do all not correspond to the forms in the table given by Bursch above, and it is unclear where they take the information from. They nonetheless note that this mountain-name contains the name of the god Wodan and compare this to Guthmannshausen (see Chapter 5.3.4) which is given the form Wotaneshusen in the 8th century, and Wutinshausen in 1255; as well as Gutenswegen (see Chapter 5.3.5) referred to as Vodeneswege in the 10th century (Sturmfels, Bischof 1961, 93). Laur states that Godesberg was referred to in Guodenes monte at the beginning of the 9th century, Wodenesberg in 947, and finally Gudenesberg in 1131 (Laur 2001, 22).

121 5.3.2.2 Linguistic Material Regarding the change of initial variation of the sound W- and G-, Bach notes in Die deutschen Ortsnamen (1954) that scholars had been interpreting this problem differently but most consistently on the basis of local pronunciation or spelling: Grimm assumes that the change to G- is Westphalian (Grimm 1875, 109), Simrock considers it to be Lombard (Simrock 1869, 164), while Wäschke and Frings reckon it to be a Latinisation (Wäschke 1900, 266; Frings 1927, 304), and Andresen and Kluge see it as a folk-etymological borrowing from the German Gott (English ‘god’) (Andresen 1899, 222; Schwarz 1950, 248; Bach 1954, II: 554). Mentioned as a parallel, Bach sees Gutmannshausen as coming from Wotaneshusen (see Chapter 5.3.4). He nonetheless sees this as being derived from an owner or settler name rather than a god, as Wuotan in prehistoric times occasionally appears as personal name (Bach 1945, 554). Nontheless he feels it may also be an example of people avoiding naming the god. He notes that: “jener Wechsel auch in Namen begegnet, in denen nicht mit einem Euphemismus gerechnet werden kann” (Bach 1945, 554) (this change also appears in names, in which euphemism cannot be expected).37 Bach compares this to Paulus Diaconus, who notes in his Gesta Langobardorum (between 787-796 AD): “Wotan sane, quem adjecta litera Godan dixerunt” (Wotan certainly, whom the attached records call Godan) (Paulus Diaconus 1878, 59; Bach 1954, II: 553-554 referring to Paulus Diaconus). In his Geschichte Godesbergs (1930), Wiedmann, who like Grimm assumed the name had a religious context, also refers to the change of W- to G-:

Durch die Verhärtung des W in G ist hieraus Godesberg entstanden, eine Wandlung, welche sich auch in dem langobardischen Gwodan angedeutet findet. Der gleiche Lautwechsel vollzog sich beim Namen des Ortes Gudensberg in Nieder-Hessen, welcher noch 1154 Wuodenesberg hieß, und bei der Bezeichnung des nach Wodan benannten Wochentages [...] der in westfälischen und rheinisch-fränkischen Dialekten noch jetzt Godensdag und Gudesdag genannt wird, während das Englische die Form Wednesday, das Niederländische die Woensdag bewahrt hat (Wiedmann 1930, 12-13).

Godesberg has developed due to the hardening of W to G, a change which is further indicated in the Lombard Gwodan. The same sound change affects the name of the place Gudensberg in Lower Hesse, which was still called

37Bach gives the examples of Ginteresburon > Winterespüren; Wol(t)pach > Goldbach; Wundersberg > Gundramsberg; Guner(s)bach > Wunderbach; Gundersreuth > Wundersreuth; Gera > Wera. It nonetheless seems that a reverse change is also possible (Bach 1945, 554). 122 Wuodenesberg in 1154, as well as the name of the weekday named after Wodan [...], which still is called in Westphalian and Rhenish-Franconian dialects Godensdag and Gudesdag, while English has preserved the form Wednesday, the Dutch Woensdag.

Kaufmann notes in Die Namen der rheinischen Städte (1973), that Caesarius of Heisterbach (c. 1180- after 1240) wrote in the 13th century about Godesberg: “in Gudinsberg, vel ut alii dicunt in Wudinsberg” (in Gudinsberg, or as others [would] call in Wudinsberg) (Caesarius 2009, 1606; Kaufmann 1973, 92 referring to Caesarius of Heisterbach) and explains that to Caesarius the form with initial G- must have been the learned form, while the form showing the initial W- must have been that used in the vernacular. Kaufmann adds on the basis of Paulus Diaconus that the Langobard pronunciation of Wodan may well have been Gwodan. In his Die Siedlungsnamen der Stadt Bonn (1987), Bursch questions Bach’s suggestions of a change from W- to G- based on fear of pronouncing the name of the god Wodan. He agrees with Wiedemann saying that the Langobardic Gwodan is central, adding that a similar change is equally seen in other words, such as German Wilhelm becoming the French Guillaume or the doublet Gipfel – Wipfel (peak – treetop) (Bursch 1987, 68-69). It thus seems logical to consider that the change from W- to G- has a vernacular context rather than anything to do with the fear of naming a god. The historical context of the Godesberg as well as the theory of a possible connection between St Michael’s chapels and pre-Christian sanctuaries, which has been suggested by a number of scholars should nonetheless also be taken into account.

5.3.2.3 Historical Context Wiedemann explains that the Romans were continually displaced by the Franks in this area starting in the middle of the 4th century. A number of Franconian graves unearthed around the town of present Bad Godesberg certainly witness their presence in this area (cf. Wiedemann 1930, 11-12). The excavated grave goods in the area, however, show no obvious connection to any cult dedicated to Wodan, as the form of the graves is pointing more to early Christian influence. Kaufmann, however, takes St Michael’s chapels into account, noting how, in spite of a long-lasting scholarly debate, such chapels potentially were erected upon sanctuaries dedicated to the Germanic god Wodan. It has been argued that the same applies to chapels 123 dedicated to St Peter which often appear in places of sanctuaries dedicated to Donar (Kaufmann 1973, 92). Located in the Siebengebirge, just on the opposite shore of the Rhine to Godesberg, we find a St Peter’s chapel on top of the Petersberg. Kaufmann ties this theory to another example of a St Peter’s chapel being situated in immediate vicinity of a St Michael’s chapel, in the area of Fritzlar, Hesse (Kaufmann 1973, 92). He further notes:

Hart neben dem höchsten Berg des pfälzischen Donnersberg-Gebirgstocks, dem eigentlichen ‘Donarsberg’, hieß ehemals ein niedrigerer, benachbarter Gipfel ‘Wodanesberg’, der noch im 15. u. 16. Jh. als Gudensberg oder Godesberg nachzuweisen ist (Kaufmann 1973, 92-93).

Right next to the highest mountain of the Palatine Donnersberg-massif, the actual ‘Donarsberg’, a lower, neighboring peak had formerly been called ‘Wodanesberg’, which was still documented in the 15th and 16th century.

Caesarius of Heisterbach (ca. 1180-after 1240), however, notes that the Petersberg in the Siebengebirge on the opposite of the Rhine had formerly been called Stromberg: “[...] qui Stromberg dicitur, in quo memoria est Petri principis Apostolorum [...]” (which is called Stromberg, in memory of the first apostle Peter) (Caesarius 2009, 1606), which weakens the idea of a correlation of the two hills having been two pre-Christian sanctuaries, located in close proximity. For Kaufmann’s theory to work, the validation of the circumstances regarding the background of the St Michael’s and St Peter’s chapels becomes necessary: In the Handwörterbuch des deutschen Aberglaubens (1934/1935), Bächtold-Stäubli notes briefly:

In Deutschland gibt es eine große Anzahl M.skirchen. In Süddeutschland sind es die ältesten. Sie liegen oft auf Höhen, manche sollen an der Stelle eines früheren Marstempels errichtet worden sein. [...] Auch M.sberge gibt es viele. Man hat angenommen, daß auf M. Züge Wodans [...] übergegangen sind (Bächtold- Stäubli (ed.) 1934/1935, 235).

There is a great number of St Michael’s churches in Germany. The oldest are [to be found] in southern Germany. They are often located on heights, some are suggested to be erected on the site of a former Mars temple. [...] Furthermore, many Michael’s Mountains exist. It was suggested, that features of Wodan had been passed over to Michael.

According to the Interpretatio Germanica, Wodan is rather to be compared to Mercury. We would thus expect to find a temple dedicated to Mercury. However, despite the fact that later

124 in Scandinavia Óðinn was also considered a god of war, there is no indication for this in South Germanic sources. In this context, it is worth noting that Caesarius of Heisterbach does not only hint the etymological origin of the name Godensberg but also reports a chapel dedicated to St Michael existing on top of the Godesberg: “Habebat enim et adhuc habet sanctus Archangelus in Gudinsberg [...]” (Caesarius 2009, 1606) (The holy archangel formally had and still has a church dedicated to his name on Gudinsberg.). Despite the missing evidence for such a construction, the Christian-Franconian graveyard supports the theory of an early chapel having existed on that site.

5.3.2.4 Archaeological Material In this context, the outcomes of an archaeological investigation in the years 1959/60 should be taken into account. Haentjes describes in his Geschichte der Godesburg (1960) that the construction of the present St Michael’s chapel, located just outside the fortress, was presumably started no earlier than in 1210, the year of the founding of the castle itself. The immediate predecessor was allegedly located on the top of the hill Godesberg, but was demolished before the construction works of the new fort. Haentjes nonetheless assumes that a potential investigation will not lead to any useful knowledge, as the construction of the castle must have eliminated most traces (Haentjes 1960, 96). The archaeological investigations of 1959/60 nonetheless brought new findings to light. In his report of 1960, the director of excavations Adolf Hernnbrodt notes

Die Grabungen auf dem Godesberg haben also ergeben, daß vor der Errichtung der Burg auf dem Berg ältere Anlagen vorhanden waren. Es wurden Gräber eines Friedhofes gefunden, die älter als die Burg sind und darüber hinaus die Fundamente eines gedrungenen Rechteckbaues, der wieder älter als diese Gräber ist. Nach den Unter- und Überschneidungen und nach den Grabtypen dürfte der Friedhof im 9. und 10. Jahrhundert belegt worden sein. Der Rechteckbau, dessen Fundamente von den Gräbern durchschnitten werden, wird angesichts der vielen früheren zutage gekommenen römischen Funde auf dem Berg und der jetzigen, bei den Ausgrabungen beobachteten Befunde, am wahrscheinlichsten in römischer Zeit errichtet worden sein. Die Frage aber, um was für einen Bau es sich bei ihm gehandelt haben wird, ob um eine Befestigungsanlage, einen sakralen oder profanen Bau, kann leider nicht beantwortet werden (Herrnbrodt, 1960, 361).

The excavation on the Godesberg revealed that older facilities existed before the construction of the castle on the hill started. Graves belonging to a cemetery, 125 which are older than the castle have been found and further foundations of a compact rectangular construction, which is also older than the graves. Due to the undercutting and overlapping as well as the types of graves, the cemetery was presumably in use during the 9th and 10th century. The rectangular construction, of which the foundations have been cut through by the graves, was most likely erected in Roman times, considering the numerous earlier Roman finds on the mountain as well as the findings of the present excavation. The question of what kind of building it may have been, and whether it was a fortification, a sacral or a profane construction, cannot be answered.

Tanja Potthoff made the history of the castle on Godesberg the subject of her dissertation from the year 2011 paying special regard to the archaeological investigations of 1959/60. Potthoff notes that, beside the name theory, the main argument for the place name being original is the continuity from a pre-Christian cult site to a Christian church with a Roman temple as connecting link. According to her, the argument is untenable, as the Roman construction presumably served as a fortification rather than as a sacral building.38 She adds that the placing of a Roman fortification here lessens the possibility of the previous presence of a cult site dedicated to Wotan, as such a conversion would counteract Roman custom.39 She also notes that there is still no archaeological evidence for the hill having had any cultic function as no remains of pre-Roman times have ever been excavated (Potthoff 2011, 252). Assuming that the Roman construction was not necessarily of cultic importance, this case does not reflect the idea of continuity from one sanctuary to another, or an example of the placing of a holy chapel on the site of any such place. However, the assumption of pre-Roman Germanic constructions remains doubtful, insofar as the Rhine area was primarily inhabited by Celts rather than Germanic tribes (Simek 2011, 64). As for proving that we are dealing with a pre-Christian sanctuary, Haentjes admittedly notes: “Ende des 16. Jahrhunderts fand man in einen Torbogen der Burg [auf dem Godesberg] eingemauert einen römischen Weihestein zu Ehren der römischen Götter Äsculap und Hygia, der sich jetzt im Rheinischen Landesmuseum in Bonn befindet” (Haentjes 1960, 13) (At the end of the 16th century, a Roman dedication stone in honour of Asclepius and Hygeia was

38On page 48, Potthoff explains that this rectangular construction is unlike any other Roman potential sanctuaries excavated on hills around Germany, but rather resembles other late antique small-sized strongholds found in the Rhine area. 39Pothoff therefore refers to K. J. Gilles (Römische Bergheiligtümer im Trierer Land: Zu den Auswirkungen der spätantiken Religionspolitik. In: Trierer Zeitschrift, vol. 50. 1987., 195-254.) who rejects the idea of the fortification of pre-existing cult sites, as well as to M. Thoma (Häuser der Götter. In: Archäologie in Deutschland, vol. 3. 2001. 20-23.) who discusses the converting of a Celtic cult site to a Roman temple precinct on the Martberg. 126 found immured into an archway of the castle [on the mountain Godesberg], and is now located at the Rhenish State Museum in Bonn). The use of components of pre-existing structures in new buildings is not unusual but does not prove anything relevant for our discussion, as the stone did not necessarily originate here. It might have been transferred to the Godesberg from elsewhere for construction reasons. Indeed, it does not support the idea of a connection between the deities Wodan and Mercury, as it talks about two different Roman gods, and thus has no relevance to the present discussion.

5.3.2.5 Conclusion All in all, Laur assumes a continuity of the name and that at the time of the founding of the castle, knowledge of a previous sanctuary dedicated to Wodan must have still been vivid40 (Laur 2001, 22). However, the fact that the Christianisation of the Rhine area has been completed at the latest somewhat between the 6th and the 7th century (Haentjes 1960, 15), makes such a claim rather questionable. Bearing in mind the span of half a millennium between the Christianisation of the Rhine-area and the start of the construction of the castle and the Romanesque chapel in 1210 (Kaufmann 1973, 92), there is little support for there having been any vivid memory of a pre-Christian cult. All that we have is the name.

40According to Laur, another explanation that is worth bearing in mind is some association with the legend of the Wild Hunt which seems to live on in European folklore, but as Laur himself questions this possibility, and the whole discussion seems somewhat far-fetched, this will be put to one side. In his Germanische Heiligtümer und Religion im Spiegel der Ortsnamen (2001) Laur notes:

Bekanntlich tritt der Wilde Jäger im deutschen Volksglauben nicht nur unter dem Namen Wode, Wohl, God oder Gaude und anderen angewandelten, sondern auch unter verschiedenen anderen auf, unter denen sich auch die von historischen Persönlichkeiten finden wie überhaupt auch von Menschen und nicht nur von dämonischen Gestalten. Hier stellt sich uns nun die Frage, ob diese dämonischen Wesen auch in Orts- und Flurnamen ihre Spuren hinterlassen haben. Soweit ich das beurteilen kann, ist es nicht der Fall. [...] Wenn es sich aber so im deutschen Raum verhält, fragt es sich ob der Wilde Jäger im Norden Spuren in den Toponymen hinterlassen haben sollte. Wir wollen daher die mit Odin zusammengesetzten Naturnamen doch als theophore auffassen, die auf vorchristliche Kultstätten hinweisen (Laur 2001, 27-28)

As is well known, the Wilde Jäger appears in German folklore not only in association with the figures of Wode, Wohl, God or Gaude and others, but also, in a number of other sources, other historical personalities or even humans and thus not only demonic figures. The next question would be to see whether these demonic figures have left behind any traces in place or field names. As far as I can tell, this is not the case. [...] If it was the case in the Germanic area, why has the Wilde Jäger not left any marks in the toponyms of the north? We can thus assume that the natural names involving the name of Odin are theophoric and point towards pre-Christian cult sites. 127 5.3.3 Gudensberg (Hesse) 5.3.3.0 Introduction Gudensberg is the name of both a small village and a neighbouring hill, that has been fortified from the 11th century onwards (Clay 2013, 10). Only 10 km removed from Gudensberg lies Geismar near Fritzlar, where Boniface presumably destroyed the pagan idol referred to as robur Iovis ‘Oak of Thor’41 in 723 (see Chapter 5.2.1.3) (Willibaldus 1905, 31; Sante (ed.) 1960, 154). Gudensberg has obviously undergone the same change from W- to G- as seen before in place names such as Godesberg, something which Clay notes is a “well-attested linguistic phenomenon” (Clay 2013, 10; referring to Bach 1954, II: 553-554). The earliest forms of Gudensberg are the following:

1119 Gůdenesberch 1236 Gudinsberc 1293 Gotensberg 1119-1122 Ůdenesberc 1265 Gudinburg 1293 Ghodenspergh 1123 Wothenesberc 1265 Gudinsburg 1300 Gudinborg 1131 Wuodesnberg 1266 Godensberg 1320 Gudensperg 1189/90 Gvtenburg 1268 Gudensberc 1549 Guttensbergk 1209 Wotensberg 1288 Godenspergh 1231 Guttensberg 1290 Gotesberg

Table 3: see Historical Placename Encyclopedia: Gudensberg.

41This approached mirrored by St Martin of Tours, who also deliverable destroyed pagan sites: “[...] cum in viro quodam templum antiquissimum diruisset et arborem pinum, quae fano erat proxima, esset aggressus excidere [...]. nam ubi fana destruxerat, statim ibi aut ecclesias aut monasteria construebat“ (Sulpicius Severus, 13 (1) and (9)) ([...] he destroyed a certain ancient temple and he was about to fell a pine tree, which was the closest sanctuary [...]. Where he destroyed a temple, he immediately built churches and monasteries). Deuteronomy in the Vulgate Bible passes on the words of in the as follows:

Subvertite omnia loca, in quibus coluerunt gentes, quas possessuri estis, deos suos super montes excelsos, et colles, et subter omne lignum frondosum. Dissipate aras eorum, et confringite statuas: lucos igne comburite, et idola comminuite: disperdite nomina eorum de locis illis (Tweedale (ed.) 2005, 169).

(Destroy all places, in which the tribes, that you shall possess, worshipped their gods upon high mountains, and hills, and under every tree in leaf. Destroy their altars, and wipe out the statues, burn the places with fire, and shatter the idols: displace their names of those places).

128 5.3.3.1 Literary Sources Grimm points out that: „Unweit er heiligen eiche in Hessen die Bonifacius stürzte, lag ein Wuodenesberg“ (Grimm 1875, 126) (Not far from the holy oak in Hesse, which Boniface fell, there was a Wuodenesberg). In his PhD thesis from 2008, Clay notes that Gudensberg and Odenberg, two prominent mountains in the area of Fritzlar, Hesse, are reliable place names “of major physical features which are less likely to be the product of later legends, and which explicitly refer to a pagan deity or to an active cult” (Clay 2008, 240). He adds that both prefixes are derived from the Old High German Wodan (see Clay 2008, 284). He points to a pattern in the landscapes of this area of Hesse, taking into account various other sites that might have seen pre-Christian cult activities which are not indicated by their present names. Besides the two hills Gudensberg and Odenberg, he notes Fritzlar and a spring called Donarquelle (see Chapter 5.5.4.1) as well as two peaks called Groß- and Klein-Gudenberg just a few kilometres away. Further along the course of the is Donnersberg (see Chapter 5.5.2). As he notes literary sources from the 8th century talk about Geismar and Eresburg, in association with pagan shrines42 (Clay 2008, 238). As noted in Chapter 5.2.1.3, Willibald of Mainz notes in his Vita Bonifatii (around 754-769) that the robur Iovis (see Chapter 5.2.1.3), which must had been some kind of sacred site situated “in loco qui dicitur Gaesmere”

42Regarding the place name Eresburg, numerous interpretations have been suggested. Neumann presents following explanation: The first element is the adjectival superlative documented by the OGH êresto, êreste, OS êrist-, AS œrest- ‘the first, the most important’, MHG êrest (syncopated êrst). The adverb OHG êrest, êrst (‘first’) is closely related (Neumann 2004, 115). Neumann points out:

Bei Eresburg ist anzunehmen, dass seine rühmende Bezeichnung zum echten Ortsnamen geworden ist. Mit êres(t)- war kaum eine zeitliche Priorität gemeint, sondern auf den Rang dieser Wehranlage verwiesen: ‘die wichtigste, die Hauptburg’. Das würde gut zu ihrer militärischen und religiösen Bedeutung passen.

In the case of Eresburg it can be assumed, that its praising designation has become the actual place name. êres(t)- scarcely meant a temporal priority, but referred to the status of this fortification: ‘the most important, the main castle’. That would fit its military and religious significance well (Neumann 2004, 115).

Eresburg is first mentioned in the literary sources in connection with Charlemagne and his military campaign against the Saxons in 772 as its position on top of a mountain plateau within the border area of Saxon and Franconian territory was of strategic importance. According to interdependent annals as well as divergent sources, the castle was Charlemagne’s first target and after its capturing, Charlemagne destroyed the Saxon sanctuary, the Irminsul, which is believed to have been situated in the vicinity of Eresburg (Schwind 1989, 480). Although Eresburg does not bear a pre-Chrisitian sacral place name, its significance lies in the historical events that happened in this area and its close proximity to one of very few pagan sanctuaries of the German-speaking area that has been well attested by contemporary literature. The Annales qui dicuntur Einhardi as well as Thietmar of Merseburg localise the Irminsul (Springer 2000, 504-505).

129 (Willibaldus presbyter Moguntinus 1905, 31), was destroyed by Boniface in 723. We are not given any further information about the exact location but Willibald explains that Boniface used the wood to build a chapel dedicated to St Peter (Willibaldus presbyter Moguntinus 1905, 31; Clay 2008, 238).

5.3.3.2 Archaeological Evidence Apart from the Thorsberg bog (see Chapter 5.5.4), Niederdorla, which is located only 97 kilometers away, is one of the richest sacrificial bogs in the German-speaking area, the most southerly example of such an archaeological excavation site in Germany (Egeler 2015, 7; Simek 2005, 55). Behm-Blanke notes that:

Eine Reihe besonderer “Sakraleinrichtungen” spricht dafür, daß Oberdorla kein “Dorfheiligtum” lokaler Bedeutung war, sondern in Nordwestthüringen den Rang eines Landschafts- oder Bezirksheiligtums eingenommen hat, dem mehrere Siedlungen der Umgebung angeschlossen waren” (Behm-Blanke 2003, 18).

(A series of special “sacral structures” indicate that Oberdorla was no “village- sanctuary” (?) of local importance, but rather held the status of a regional or district-sanctuary in north-western Thurungia, which was connected to a number of settlements of the surrounding area).

Over a number of centuries multiple sanctuaries were established sacrifices continuing to take place here from the La Tène period until the Migration Period. To Behm-Blanke’s mind, various deities were worshipped at Oberdorla over the course of generations, something which distinguishes large-scaled sanctuaries from the smaller, local sites. Here the deities seem to have been represented by a number of idols and ritual posts. It is nonetheless, difficult to determine which deities lay behind them (Behm-Blanke 2003, 19).

130 Figure 9: The general overview of the varying sanctuaries at Oberdorla that were created at different stages (Behm-Blanke 2003, 29).

Similar to the situation at the Thorsberg moor, Oberdorla seems to have consisted of a number of enclosed sanctuaries fenced by wickerwork, which housed altars, idols, ritual posts, objects potentially used for ritual performance, wells containing sacrifices and vessels containing food as well as animal and human sacrifices (for a detailed discussion of the archaeological finds see Behm-Blanke 2003). Of particular interest for this present discussion, is the evidence of a common oak tree, which seems to have served as a cult-tree during the La Téne period. This centuries-old oak was evidently broken up and moved to the Oberdorla site as Behm-Blanke notes:

Zur gleichen zeit als man die Opferstätte aufgab, wurde der Baum wahrscheinlich aus kultischen Gründen zerschlagen und in das ehemalige Heiligtum geschafft; denn seine Teile lagen auf und unter dem zerissenen Flechtwerk. Es muß sonach eine kultische Verbindung zwischen der Eiche und der Flechtwerkanlage bestanden haben (Behm-Blanke 2003, 46).

When the sacrificial site was abandoned, the tree was presumably destroyed for cultic reasons and moved to the sanctuary; its pieces being located on top and underneath the torn wickerwork. Some cultic connection must have existed between the oak and the wickerwork-enclosure). 131

It is also noteworthy that the structure of the sanctuaries at Oberdorla included a processional road leading to the cult site (Simek 2005, 54; Simek 2011, 217) similar to those found at the sacrificial sites of Ullevi, Gamla Uppsala, Frösvi and Rösaring (Andrén 2014, 163-164). All in all, Grasselt conludes that:

Oberdorla, ein sakraler Ort mit zahlreichen Heiligtümern, von der älteren Eisenzeit bis in die Völkerwanderungszeit genutzt, zeigt, dass von einer beachtlichen Stabilität im Geistesleben der ortsansässigen Bevölkerung ausgegangen werden kann und dort die ostgermanische Komponente wie auch manches Römische Eingang fanden (Grasselt 2010/2011, 125).

(Oberdola, a sacral place with numerous sanctuaries, which had been in use from the late Iron Age until the Migration Period, demonstrates significant stability in the spiritual life of the resident population can be considered and that both East Germanic as well as some Roman influence could be found [in the spiritual life] here.)

5.3.3.3 Conclusion Although Oberdorla is approximately 100 km removed from Gudensberg, this monumental district-sanctuary certainly testifies a long continuity of religious beliefs in the surrounding area which might positively support the question of the place name Gudensberg havin a theophoric meaning while the place name is mentioned later, the high number of sources support its existence and provide a good overview of its development. The immediate proximity of Gudensberg to Geismar also allows to view the place name in a broader historical spectrum. It is certainly striking that the Vita Bonifatii talks about the distruction of a pagan sanctuary called the “Oak of Jupiter” (robur Iovis) in the form of a tree or post (something that shows the destruction of Irminsul) something that is reflected by tree-idols and the pieces of destroyed oak found at Oberdorla, which both indicate some sort of tree-cult. Historical accounts as well as archaeological evidence underline that the areas surrounding Geismar and Oberdorla were clearly settled by Germanic tribes and thus under Germanic-religious influence. A reflection of these pre-Christian religious beliefs within local place names thus cannot entirely be ruled out.

132 5.3.4 Guthmannshausen (Thuringia) 5.3.4.0 Introduction The following table clearly shows the earlier forms of Guthmannshausen with the first stem Wotan-/Wotan- as noted by Förstemann and Udolph:

10th 8th cent. Wotaneshusen Woteneshusen 1261 von Guttenshusen cent. 11th Uuoteneshusa/ Henricus de 8th cent. Wudaneshusun 1265 cent. Wodeneshusa Gutenshusen 1015- Ortwinus de 8th cent. Woteneshusun in Woteneshusen 1267 1025 Gutenshusen 12th c. 815 Wdaneshusun in Wotaneshusen 1289 de Gutenshusen cent. 874 Woteneshusa 1255 in Wutinshusen 1848 Guthmannshausen Table 4: see Förstemann 1872, 1638; Udolph

5.3.4.1 Literary Sources The first recorded mention of the name is found in the Breviarium Sancti Lulli, a manuscript from the 12th century recording the properties of the monastery of Mainz during the lifetime of Archbishop Lullus of Mainz (c. 710-786) and lists in Wodaneshusun and in Woteneshusun (Landau 1865, 188, 191). The 11th century copy of Codex diplomaticus Fuldensis from 874 AD then has the form Uoteneshusa. Dronke nevertheless questions the authenticity of this document, as the script differs from other scripts of that period and the spelling of individual names does not correspond to those common for that time (Dronke, 1850, 274).

5.3.4.2 Linguistic Form The sound of the first part of this place name has evidently undergone the same transition from W- to G- as that seen at Godesberg (see Chapter 5.3.2 for discussion of the W-/G- change). The second element of the place name is the Old High German and Old Low German -husun, -husen ‘at the houses’, which means ‘settlement, village’ (Bach 1954, 554; Udolph). Bach suspects that the personal name Wuotan might be behind this, but notes that “der Wandel von W- > G- auf einem Euphemismus beruhen [könnte]” (Bach 1954, 554) (the change

133 from W- > G- could be based on euphemism). Fuhrmann, too, sees the rare personal name in Guthmannshausen. As he notes:

So wurde schon das v. 815 erwähnte ‘Woteneshusen’ [...] in Guthmannshausen [...] umbenannt, obwohl hier gar nicht der Name des Gottes, sondern der seltene PN Wotan vorlag. Die Neubenennung erfolgte hier nacheinem Gutman, der dem Kl. Fulda v. 900 Güter in diesem Ort schenkte [...] (Fuhrmann 1962, 78).

(Like this, ‘Woteneshusen’, which had been mentioned before 815, has been renamed to Gutmannshausen, although the rare personal name Wotan had been present here and not the name of the god. The renaming happened after a certain Gutman, who, before 900, donated goods to the monastery of Fulda at this place).

According to Udolph, the derivation of the first stem from the name of the Germanic deity Wodan or Wotan is unlikely as the ‘the settlement of Wodan’ would not have made much sense unlike, Godesberg or Gudensberg which designate mountains where the god might have been worshipped. He agrees that the personal name Wodan is likely (Udolph).

5.3.4.3 Archaeological Evidence During the harvesting of sand in direct proximity from Guthmannshausen in 1962, a female body in a supine position was exposed lying in north-northeast - south-southwest orientation. A fibula made of silver was found above the right collarbone as well as several amber , while one bead was discovered around the neck. As both bones show green colouring due to the oxidising of metal, it was presumed that a second fibula was earlier present which presumably got lost during the excavation of the body. Next to the skull, a bowl, a small vessel and a spindle whorl were found. The fibula allows a dating to the 4th century and resembles a fibula from a grave found in Haßleben, only 30 km away from Guthmannshausen (Timpel 1964, 262-264). Guthmannshausen is situated in between Haßleben and Leuna, where two princely tombs of the Haßleben-Leuna cultural group belonging to the Late Roman Imperial era were excavated in the early 19th and 20th centuries (Gebühr 1998, 191-192). Addressing the characteristic nature of these two graves, Steuer points out: “Während die große Mehrheit der Germanen der verschiedenen Stämme zwischen Ostsee und Donau überall ihre Toten auf Urnengräberfeldern bestattete, [...] haben jeweils kleine Gruppen sich handers verhalten” (Steuer 1999, 382) (While the vast majority of Germanic people from different tribes between 134 Baltic Sea and the Danube buried their dead in fields of urn graves, small groups behaved differently). The burials conatin particularly rich grave goods, such as gold , fibulas, Roman imports, and arrowheads, all of which are characteristic for this group (Gebühr 1998, 191- 192). These grave-types have been dated to the 3rd century between 260 and 300 AD (Quast 2009, 113). The grave from Haßleben has particular extravagance. While an ethnic interpretation of this group has not been generally accepted, it has been argued that these finds represent graves of a regional upper class (Gebühr 1998, 191-192). As Steuer notes:

Prunk- oder Fürstengräber als Ausdruck neuer elitärer Lebensweise sind als sozialgeschichtliches Phänomen regelhaft in allen aufstrebenden Randkulturen zu frühen Hochkulturen oder Staaten entstanden, nicht nur bei den Germanen, von der Zeit der frühen Kelten bis zu den Wikingern und Normannen (Steuer 1999, 388; referring to Kossack 1974).

(Monumental or princely tombs as an expression of a new elitist way of life regularly occurred in all aspiring peripheral cultures [on their way to] becoming early high cultures or nations as a socio-historical phenomenon, not only within the Germanic people, but from the period of early Celts up to that of the Vikings and Normans).

The main point is that these finds, prove the presence of Germanic tribes in the area around Guthmannshausen during the Imperial era. As Mączyńska notes: “Fibeln und Schmuck sind [...], bis auf wenige Ausnahmen, stets germ. Herkunft” (Mączyńska 2004, 324) (With a few exceptions, the fibulas and jewellery are always of Germanic origin). The grave goods nonetheless confirm close contacts to the Roman Empire as well as an independent cultural background (Brather 2004, 421).

5.3.4.4 Conclusion Although the second element of the place name Guthmannshausen refers to a settlement, it is nonetheless striking that, compared to the other place names potentially containing the name of the god Wodan, the first written references date back to the 8th century and the first mention of the place name showing the G- as initial sound is only dated to 1261. This late change might speak in favour of a long-running memory of the original place name, something which would support its authenticity. One must, however, bear in mind that Old High German knew the personal name W(u)otan which, as Fuhrmann has pointed out, in combination with

135 the second element -hausen appears more likely. It can be argued that the reason for the long durability of the place name is due to the fact that it contains a personal name rather than the name of a god. If the awareness of this fact lived on in the society, one might argue that early Christianity found no reason to change the place name.

5.3.5 Gutenswegen (Saxony-Anhalt) 5.3.5.0 Introduction Gutenswegen is a village about 15 km to the west of Magdeburg, Saxony-Anhalt, and is one of the earliest settlements in this region. The surrounding landscape consists of hilly fields. A protected area of natural springs surrounded by a mixed forest is situated south of the village. Förstemann, Grimm and Oesterley list the following historical entries of the place name Gutenswegen:

937 Watanesweg 973 Wodenesweg 1301 Wodensweghe 943 Uuodenesuuego 1273 Wdenswege ? Wutenswege 965 Uodenesuege 1290 Wodensweyn ? Godenschwege 968 Godeswegen 1290 Wodeneswegere ? Gutenswegen 968 Wodeneswege 1297 Gadenswegen Table 5: see Förstemann 1872, 1638; Grimm 1875, 126; Oesterley 1883, 242.

5.3.5.1 Literary Sources To the best of knowledge, this place name has not received any special scholarly interest up to this date.

5.3.5.2 Linguistic Material Referring to around the year 965, Thietmar of Merseburg gave the form uodenesuege (Vodenesvege) (Thietmar of Merseburg 1839, 750; see also Figure 10); and relating to the year 943, the Reichschronik written during the 12th century by the anonymous author referred to as Annalista Saxo, shows the form Uuodenesuuego (Wodeneswego) (Annalista Saxo 2006, 165). Both forms correspond in time to the earliest mentions of the Germanic deity Wodan (see Chapter 5.1.1.1), especially echoing the form Uuoden (Woden) found in the Old Saxon

136 baptismal vow (late 8th century). The name once again shows alternating spellings including changes from W- to G-, something which has been addressed earlier in Chapter 5.3.2.

Figure 10: uodenesuege in the Dresden manuscript of the Gesta Saxonum of Thietmar of Merseburg, Hist Germ. univ. 119-1.

Grimm compares the place name Wodeneswege with the Danish place name Odense (< Odinsvé) and questions above the derivation of the secondary element -wegen comes from - weg (Lat. via) ‘way’. According to him, it is possible that -wegen stems from the Old High German form wīg, wīh which is closely related to the Scandinavian form vé (see Chapter 5.2.2.1) (Grimm 1875, 126, 131), an idea supported by Gottschald (Gottschald 1954, 44). To support his assumption, Grimm refers to the following verse of Codex Exoniensis (10th century England), which contains Anglo-Saxon poetry dating to the 8th or early 9th centuries (Gardenstone 2011, 60-61):

Vôden vorhte veos, Woden wrought idols, vuldor alvealda the Glorious Almighty rûme roderas (Grimm 1875, 132) the spacious heavens, (Thorpe 1842, 341).

According to Grimm, veos is the plural form of vih deriving from veohas (contracted to veos). Grimm feels that a hypothetical Anglo-Saxon Vôdenesveoh aligns with the Old Saxon Wôdanesweg derived from Wôdaneswih (Grimm 1875, 132). Gelling certainly notes that the Old English form wīg and wēoh later became wy(e)- and wee- (Gelling 1973, 110; referring to Smith 1956). Nevertheless, as a basis for the English place name Weyhill, Gelling is more convinced by the profane compound *weg-hōh ‘hill spur climbed by a main road’, something which correlates well with the topography. All the same, according to Gelling, the earlier forms of the English place names Wyville (< Uuiuuella < 137 Wiwel), Wyham (< Widun) and Wysall (< Wisoc < Wishou), align perfectly with the Anglian form wīh, while Weedom (< Wedon(e)) seems to have wēoh with loss of an -h in the compound with dūn (Gelling 1973, 112-113, 123, 127). Considering these Anglo-Saxon place names in England, it is striking that in all of them, the element wīh or wēoh comes in the first place of the compound. None of these names are connected to names of pre-Christian deities, but rather refer to natural features (see also Gelling 1962, 8-9). Things are slightly different in the Netherlands. There the Old Saxon form wīh is found in three Dutch place names where the Germanic *wīha appears as simplex (Wehe-Den Hoorn, Wijhe and Wijchen) (Boshouwers 2013, 45-46). It is noteworthy that these names only occur in the north-western coastal area of the Netherlands (Quak 2002, 67). In Scandinavia there are a great number of place names that reflect use of the term vi or vé ‘sanctuary’. As in the English and Dutch place names, the Scandinavian names frequently show the term appearing as a first element compounded with a designation for natural features (as in Vilunda and Vifärna, Sweden). It nonetheless also appears as a second element in connection with deities (as in Odense, Denmark, and Ullevi, Sweden) (Vikstrand 2001, 426; Brink 2008, 63). Although the Germanic *wīha appellative in place names is well attested in all regions touched by (Anglo-)Saxon settlement (that is in Scandinavia, England and on the Dutch North Sea coast), the lack of earlier sources of Gutenswegen using the ending -wīh is, nevertheless, a quiet inconvenient sign. The more obvious derivation from Old High German weg ‘way, path’ (Germanic *wega-, *wegaz; see Köbler 2014, 3438) cannot entirely be dismissed either. All the same, such place names seem unknown elsewhere. Nonetheless, increasing archaeological evidence has been pointing to the existence of ancient processional routes – as in Gamla Uppsala or Rösaring, southern Uppland (Andrén 2014, 163-164).

5.3.5.3 Archaeological Evidence If we consider the archaeological context of Gutenswegen on top of the so-called Kirchberg near Marienborn, a village which is 34 km away from Gutenswegen, a stream called Wirpke (< *Wertbeke from the idea of a ‘winding watercourse’) (Casemir, Menzel and Ohainski (eds) 2011, 177) arises from a well with the name Bullerspring, and an oak grove that is still called by the ‘holy grove’ today, is immediately adjacent to the well. Recent archaeological investigations in immediate proximity to the well revealed the remains of an

138 earlier sacral building underneath the visible masonry remains of a Romanesque church that is attested to literature going back to 1200 (Reichenberger). In a press release from the 15th July 2019, Reichenberger assumes that the spring was probably a site of cultic worship for the Germanic population. He notes that: “Offenkundig wurde am Bullerspring ein germanisches Quellheiligtum demonstrativ durch einen christlichen Sakralbau überprägt” (Reichenberger) (Apparently, a Germanic well sanctuary has been effectively concealed by a Christian sacral building). He explains this assumption by pointing out that this area of Saxony-Anhalt played a significant role in the clash relating to Christianisation led by Charlemagne during the 8th and early 9th centuries. Not far from Marienbon is the Liudgerikloster, a monastery established by St Liudger, nearby where he took on his missionary work as instructed by Charlemagne (Böhne 1961, 1104; Breukelaar 1993, 138). It is noteworthy that south-west of the well, in a neighbouring field, stray archaeological finds have revealed intensive signs of settlement for the entire Roman Imperial Period (which roughly lasted from 1st until the 4th century AD). Reichenberger concludes: “Die momentan am [...] Bullerspring freiligenden Kirchenfundamente geben eindrucksvoll Zeugnis von der Christianisierung unserer Region und seiner Eingliederung in das Fränkische Reich” (Reichenberger) (The foundations of the church that are currently exposed at Bullerspring witness the Christianisation of our region and its integration into the Franconian Empire in an impressive fashion). Unfortunately, no proper publications addressing these new finds have yet been issued, making it very difficult to draw any solid conclusions based on the latest finds at the potential pre-Christian cult site or its relationship to Charlemagne’s conquest. Other archaeological finds, such as megalithic tombs from the period containing burial chambers nonetheless attest to a long period of usage between 3500 and 2000 BC, urn graves dating to the Late Bronze Age bearing witness to a long history of settlement in the area around Marienborn (Blasius 1901, 231, 236-237; see also Beier 1994, 179-184). Typical local archaeological finds of Germanic origin dating to the Migration Period, include individual and personal items, such as fibulas, weaponry and equipment (Simek 2011, 213). A number of small such finds from around the area of Gutenswegen bear witness to the clear presence of Germanic tribes in this area during the Roman Imperial Era and up until the Migration Period. Indeed, several fibulas of different Elbe-Germanic types have been unearthed in close proximity to Gutenswegen (see Bemmann 2008, 21-38).

139 5.3.5.4 Conclusion Due to the lack of previous scientific discussion of the place name Gutenswegen, it is rather difficult to make any definite statement about the authenticity of the name. It is, nevertheless, striking that the early forms of Gutenswegen are so well presented in the manuscripts and annals and that they resemble the forms of the name of the god Wodan in the earliest sources on him from the continental Germanic area. Gutenswegen is nonetheless situated outside the main area where most of the Wodan place names have been found, and that of the major archaeological finds (such as the bog sanctuary at Oberdorla [see Chapter 5.3.3.2]) and other various important historical places (such as Weimar and Eresburg) (see Figure 9), something that does not ease the decision. Referring to the same verse in the Codex Exoniensis as Grimm (see above), however, Gardenstone underlines that Wodan must have been well-known among the Anglo-Saxons in Britain before the Viking invasion (Gardenstone 2011, 61-62), suggesting that, as noted above (see Chapter 5.1.1.1), Woden as a mythological figure and other pre-Christian beliefs and practices relating to him must have entered the British Isles as part of the Anglo-Saxon migration from continental Europe from the 5th century onwards. It is important to note that at the time, the settlement area of the Saxons stretched from the North Sea coast of modern Germany as far down as the area around Magdeburg including the Netherlands (see Figure 11). As Simek has pointed out “die Sachsen von allen kontinentaleuropäischen Stämmen am längsten heidnisch blieben” (Simek 2011, 171) (of all the Continental-Germanic tribes, the Saxons remained heathen for the longest period of time). Considering the area of Saxon influence and the reference material of English place names, it appears quite probable that when the Saxon tribes coined place names in England and Holland, they followed local practice known in Saxony. In other words, if names including vé and Wodan appear in southern Britain and the Netherlands they must have also once existed in Saxony. The possibility that Gutenswegen represents one of very few such theophoric place names to survive from the time of the Saxon settlement in this particular area of Germany cannot be completely disqualified. The question of authenticity of Gutenswegen must, nevertheless, remain open to further research.

140

Figure 11: Europe around the middle of the 6th century (cf. Charpy 1993).

Besides Bad Godesberg and Gudensberg (Hesse), there are also reports of a number of deserted settlements such as Gudensberg (near the village Erkshausen, Hesse), which are noted by Grimm (Grimm 1875, 126). These place names must be omitted for now, if only because of the total lack of recent academic works on them. A town still called Wodansberg in Schleswig-Holstein has nonetheless been addressed by Laur in some detail (see Laur 2001, 105). He nonetheless notes that:

Im Falle des Ortsnamens Wodansberg in Dithmarschen handelt es sich bei dieser Form bereits um den Niederschlag einer theophoren Namendeutung. Die Überlieferung dieses ursprünglichen Flurnamens ist jung, weshalb auch die theophore Deutung nicht über alle Zweifel erhaben und auch vielfach angezweifelt worden ist (Laur 2001, 105).

(In the case of the place name Wodansberg in Dithmarschen, this form is the result of a theophoric interpretation of a name. The tradition that lies behind this field nameis young, something explains why a theophoric interpretation is not beyond all doubt and why it has been repeatedly questioned.)

Jankuhn agrees with this but remains open (Jankuhn 1979, 372). For other theophoric place names in the area of Schleswig-Holstein (was formerly part of Denmark), see Laur’s discussion from 2001.

141 5.3.6 Place Names Containing Oden-/Odin- In the German-speaking area, a number of place names containing the form Oden- or Odin- have also certainly survived to this day, and it is tempting to jump to quick conclusions in favour of a relationship to the Old Norse deity Oðinn. As Clay noted in his PhD thesis from 2008: “The prefixes Guden and Oden are both derived from OHG Wodan, the name of the pre- Christian god generally referred to in modern English by the Scandinavian form Odin [...]” (Clay 2008, 241). Certainly names deriving from the Old Norse form Óðinn are often found in compounded theophoric place names in the Nordic area, as was shown above in Chapter 5.1.1.1. All the same, no names using this forms are found in England or the Dutch area, making it hard to believe that they would be found in this form in the rest of the German- speaking area. It is nonetheless important to briefly address the following place names in order to clear up any misunderstandings that may have com into being. The interpretation of the name Odenwald (Hesse), which has been passed on in the forms of Odonewalt (815), Otenwalt (970) and Odenwalt (1016) (Berger 1999, 219), has been discussed for many years, along with the 7th century form Odanwald (Förstemann 1863, 54). A number of theories have been proposed: The idea that the place name derives from High German Ode (‘ode, hymn’) giving the meaning ‘forest of legends’ can easily be disproven. As the Grimm Brothers note, the term Ode (‘ode’) in the meaning of an ‘elevated lyric poem’ was a 17th century French borrowing (Grimm 1889, 1141). The second theory is that the place name Odenwald comes from ‘Odins Wald’ (‘forest of Odin’) linked to the god Oðinn. The main problem, as noted above, is that in the Germanic area this deity was exclusively worshipped under the name of Wodan or Wotan (cf. Uuodan in the Merseburg Charm: see Chapter 5.6). Another more convenient explanation seems to be a relationship to the High German adjective öde meaning ‘bleak, desolate, sparsely populated’ (cf. ON eyð). In this context, Köbler points to High German ‘öd, leicht, möglich’ (Engl. ‘empty, deserted, easy’); the OHG adjective ôdî and High German ‘Öde, Verwüstung, Einöde, Wüste, Leichtigkeit’ (‘desolation, easiness’); and the Old High German substantive ôdî, tying the Old High German form ôden* to the High German ‘vernichten, veröden, verlassen’ (‘destroy, lay waste’) (Köbler 1992, 742). This certainly would fit the historical context of the Odenwald-area, as finds from the late Celtic La Tène culture here are almost entirely lacking (cf. Jorns 1953, 90-97). It is assumed that when the Romans came here, the area was largely unsettled. Even though the Odenwald went on to become Roman territory, only a few Roman villas have been discovered in this

142 area. It might also be remembered that after the collapse of the Roman Empire (in around 476), the Alemanni pushed into the area and that in the 5th century, the Franks took over the region under Clovis (466-511) who had accepted Christianity after defeating the Alemanni. During the 7th and 8th centuries, when the Anglo-Saxon Christianisation of Hesse led by Boniface took place, the woodland of the Odenwald-area was still only sparsely settled (Ditter 2006, 24; Strömer 2001, 214). Bahlow, however, rejects the connection to the HG öde in the sense of ‘bleak’ or ‘desolate’. He notes that the Odenwald-area is rich in water and swamps, and thus looks rather to a compound with od, a faded term for ‘water, swamp’ which corresponds to the Indo-Germanic aud in river-names such as Auda, Audura, and Audra. He suspects the same origin lies behind other place names such as Odenbach, Odenberg, Odenheim, and so on (Bahlow 1965, 359). (See further below) The local historian Morneweg, meanwhile, tried to link Odenwald to the term ōd (Old English ead), a word for property or possession, found in the personal names Otto, Odo and Allod, an Old Low Franconian and Old Saxon term for collaborative ownership (Morneweg 1926, 33). Köbler however translates the Old High German form ôd as meaning High German ‘verlangend’ (‘longing’) and the Old High German ôt* as meaning High German ‘Reichtum, Vermögen’ (‘wealth’), two terms which somehow seem rather compatible with Morneweg’s interpretation (Köbler 1992, 742, 751). Another suggestion is that an otherwise unattested Count Otto (or Odo) was the namesake for the Odenwald (‘Otto’s forest’ or ‘Odo’s forest’) (Schlegler 1836, 28). Even though the historical existence of a Count Otto cannot be confirmed, a linkage to a simple personal name would seem to be the most straightforward explanation even though it was rejected by Bahlow (Bahlow 1965, 494). Although a derivation from the form Woden (as shown in the 8th century Historia Ecclastica gentis Anglorum by Bede) due to loss of initial W- seems faintly possible at first glance, the lack of any clear connection to the god Wodan in earlier written sources and the incompatibility of these forms underline the uncertainty of any theophoric interpretation. Only 80 km away from Odenwald, is a town called Odenbach which still exists today. A document from 841 mentions the center of the manorial system of St Medard as being a place called Uotenbach which is subordinated to the diocese of Verdun (Schröder). In 1222, Caesarius of Heisterbach copied a recordfrom 893 from the Carolingian monastery of Prüm

143 which mentions a church situated in Odenbahc (Beyer (ed.) 1860, 160), the place name later appears as Ottenbach (1194) and Odenbach (1222) (Wendel). The area is home to a number of Celtic graves as well as artefacts from the younger Stone Age and the Bronze Age. A burial ground and numerous coins from the earlier Stone Age indicates that a dense population existed in the area at an early point. Coins surviving from the Roman period and a particularly well preserved figurine of the Roman god Mercurius (see Chapter 5.1.1.2: Footnote 31 for the discussion of the Interpretatio Romana) underlines the continuity of settlement and proves that this went on in Celtic and Roman times. It seems evident that the population of the area rapidly incorporated Roman culture after the Roman conquest (Schröder). It has been suggested that the transmitted name Odenbach could be traced back to the pre- for an eponymous stream Audina. According to Dolch and Greule, meanwhile the fundamental word -bach (‘brook’) is attached to a personal name, which would be again Odo or Otto in this case (Wendel). Although the earliest mention of Uotenbach seems to be associated with the Old High German uuot, wuot (‘anger, rage’) (see Old High German glosses in Chapter 5.1.1.1), this non-theophoric explanation (including the personal name Odo or Otto) seems more likely. Indeed, the fluent transition from Celtic to Roman culture indicated by the archaeological evidence makes it difficult to believe in a post-Roman development of a place name under the influence of Germanic immigrants during an era when Christianity had already reached most parts of the Roman Empire. The first documented reference for the next place name in question, Odenthal, is found in a record from the monastery Siegburg in North Rhine-Westphalia which dates back to 1150 (Berghoff). Müller has suggested that the first count of this area, Udo, directed the clearing of the area in his father’s possession in the 10th century. It is thus possible that Count Udo named the area after himself, the second stem deriving from the Old High German form darra (‘burned site’). In this case, darre could describe the deforestation or drainage of an area by means of fire (Köbler 1991, 146; Niemayer (ed.) 2012, 470; Köbler 2014; cf. Müller 1976). Bahlow, nonetheless, rejects this interpretation noting that the ealier form: “Udendar entspricht Malendar, Valendar, Helendar, gehört somit eindeutig zu den allerältesten, vorgerm. Bachnamen auf -an-dra, die vom ligur. Rhonegebiet über den Rhein bis nach Westfalen herüberreichen [...]” (Bahlow 1965, 494). (Udenar corresponds to Malendar, Valendar, Helendar, and thus clearly belongs to the oldest pre-Germanic names for streams [ending in] -an-dra, which stretch from the Ligurian area of the Rhône across the Rhine to

144 Westphalia [...]). Based on this, Bahlow suspects an earlier form *Udandra < Udendar < Odenthal comparing it to *Helandra < Hellenthal. Bahlow thus accepts the Indo-Germanic ud (cf. to Old Indian udan) meaning ‘Water, swamp’ as being the origin of Odenthal (Bahlow 1965, 494). According to consistent sources, Odenthal was founded in the 10th century, something which oce again disqualifies a pre-Christian origin of the place name (Berghoff). All in all, it appears reasonable to exclude all of the names above from this discussion. None of the earliest sources, which in most cases stem from a late period, show any signs of connection to the Germanic name of the pre-Christian deity Wodan (Old High German Wuodan, Wuotan). As noted above, there is no reason to suspect any use of the Scandinavian form of the deity as there is no comparative account of the name Óðinn being used in any written sources.

5.4 Týr in German Place Names

5.4.0 Introduction In Scandinavia, the distribution of place names including the Old Norse deity Týr is relatively uneven. According to Brink, Sweden has no such names at all, while in Norway there is only one place name that unquestionably containing the god Týr: Tysnes in Hordaland. A second name, Tislauan, in Trøndelag is potentially sacral, but no medieval forms have been transmitted, something which makes it impossible to draw a definite conclusion. In Denmark, however, at least 33 place names come into question. The most common ones are Tislund (six times), Tiset (< Tisvith; three times), Tisbjerg (four times) and Tishøj (three times) (Brink 2007, 119-120). Tissø on Sjælland is presumably the most prominent theophoric place name containing the god Týr (Brink 2007, 120). In England, the various place names seeming to contain the deity Tīw or Tig present a number of difficulties. Gelling accepts only one place name as being very certain: Tysoe (< Tīes hōh) in Warwickshire (Gelling 1973, 115). Tislea (Hampshire), and Tyesmere (Worcestershire) both seem both connected to the god too, but no other forms have been recorded. The name Tuesley (Surrey) has also been considered in this context. However, the long-running spellings sometimes containing -r-, as in Tiwerlei (1220) and Tewersle (1313), make the interpretation difficult (Gelling 1973, 115-116). As Gelling notes, “Tīw is considered to enter into personal

145 names, and this contributes a further element of uncertainty to the problem of place-names which may refer to the god” (Gelling 1973, 116).

Figure 12: The distribution of sacral place names containing the god Týr in Scandinavia (open circles are uncertain) (Brink 2007, 121).

It is noteworthy that the distribution of Týr-names in Scandinavia is almost limited to Denmark, from whence many of the Angles and Jutes migrated to Britain in the 5th century (see Chapter 4.2). It would thus seem reasonable to find the same type of names in Britain as

146 well. If we accept the assumption that Týr has been of the older types of Germanic deities, that seemingly has been replaced by the cult of Óðinn, the question of a vivid Týr-cult introduced during the period of Anglo-Saxon migration remains open. A similar problem arises from the search for place names containing the deity Týr throughout the German-speaking and Dutch areas. The high age assumed for this cult makes it extremely difficult to believe in any remains.

5.4.1 Ciesburg (Augsburg - Bavaria) 5.4.1.0 Introduction The city of Augsburg lies in the south-western area of Bavaria and is the third largest city in this province. Augsburg is university town and seat of government of the canton Svabia. The name of the city dates back to the year 15 BC, when the established a camp at this site (Niemayer 2012, 43). An alternative name Ciesburc occurs several times and there has been an ongoing debate about whether this name refers to a pre-Christian deity named Cisa/Zisa. Reitzenstein has chronologically listed the following names as they appeared in the literary sources: 122-200 AD Aug(usta) 8th/9th civitas, que 1420- Augusta [...] Cycza (inscription) Vindelicum cent. AD Augusta Vindalica 1422 [...] Vindelica [...] dicebatur Augusta 186 AD Ael(ia) Augusta 826 AD Augusburuc 1440 Zisaris (inscription) 2nd c. AD Augústa 1012- ad Augustanam 1476 Augstburg [...] (manuscript Windelikóhn 1018 urbem Augspurg 13th cent.) 3rd cent. AD Augusta 1046- Ougistburch 1488 Augusta Colonia (manuscript Vindelicum 1077 (copied [...] Augspurg [...] 7th/8th 16th Vindelica [...] cent.) cent.) Zizaris [...] Genannia 367-407 AD Augusta c. 1070 Augusta 1488 Vindelicorum (manuscript Vindelicum Ogestburc (copied urbem nun 9th cent.) Auuespurch c. 1500) Augustam

147 425-430 AD Augustae 11th cent. Augustburg 1493/94 De civiate (manuscript Vindelicensis (copied Augusta. Augusta 15th/16th 13th Vindelicorum cent.) cent.) 367-407 AD Ciesborc, Ciesburc 1119- Augusta 1525 Episcopo (manuscript 1130 Augusburk Augustopolitano 10th cent.) 367-407 AD civitas 12th cent. ciuitatem [...] 1528 Augspurg (manuscript Augustensis id est, quam appellabant 12th cent.) Ogesburc Zizarim 367-407 AD Oesbur c. 1350 Ogspurg 1611 Augsburg (copied 13th cent.) 551 AD Augustas Vindicas 1359 Augspurch, 1632 Gustava (copied 8th Augspurg cent.) 738 AD in civitate 1395 Augsburg 1757 Augsburg (copied Augusta 8th/9th cent.) Table 6: cf. Reitzenstein 2013, 39-40.

5.4.1.1 Literary Sources Niemayer notes in his Deutsches Ortsnamenbuch that Augsburg has been founded in 15 BC as camp for the Roman legion on behalf of Emperor Augustus. In 121 AD, Augsburg received the Roman municipal law (Niemayer 2012, 43). The first evidence of this place name appears in a Roman inscription from around 122-200 AD which reads as “L(ucius) Bebius Aug(usta) Crescens Vindelicum” (Reitzenstein 2013, 39; referring to Dietz 1985, 98). The second inscription from 186 AD shows “Ael(ia) Augusta” (Reitzensten 2013, 40). Regarding the origin of the place name Augsburg, Niemayer points out that the name is based on the personal name of the Roman emperor Augustus. The first evidence Ael(ia) Augusta (2nd century, copied in th 11th century) shows the epithet Aelius, which represents the gentile name of emperor Hadrian. Recent scholarship suggests to supplement the antique sources with Lat. civitas meaning ‘town’, the place name consequently translates to ‘town of Augustus in the territory 148 of Vindelici’. To translate civitas, the name Augusta received the epithet Old High German - burg meaning ‘fortress, town’, which led to assimilation and with stress falling on the first syllable, the second syllable of Augusta disappeared as early as by the 9th century (Niemayer 2012, 43). Paulus too notes that civitas would be added to the evidence of the antique sources, accordingly the translation would be ‘city of Augustus in the area of Vindelici’ (Paulus 2016, 2). He further adds that the earliest records still show the Celtic ending which later became the Latin ending -orum. The German name including as a second syllable the Old High German -burg/purch seems to have dominated from the record of 826 until the 11th century. Paulus suspects a transcription of the tribal name in the High-Medieval Vindelica (Paulus 2016, 2). The name Ciesborc, Ciesburc at first appears in manuscripts of the 10th century (Reitzenstein 2012, 40). Paulus interprets the versions showing Ciesburc as errors, which led later humanists to draw far-fetching conclusions concerning the idea of a pre- Christian goddess Cisa or the place name deriving from the god Zio (Paulus 2016, 2) After Grimm interpreted the term Zisa as variant to the feminine form Ziu and, accordingly, accepted the goddess Cisa as female counterpart to the male god Zio, whom Grimm recognises as true Swabian deity (J. Grimm 1875, 247-248). Golther nevertheless denied Grimms assumption, noting: “die von J. Grimm in der Mythologie 266 ff. aufgestellten altdeutschen Göttinnen Hruoda, Ostara, Ricen, Zisa sind aus den Glaubensvorstellungen der alten Deutschen zu streichen” (Golther 1995, 489) (the Old German goddesses Hruoda, Ostara, Ricen, Zisa put forward by J. Grimm in the Mythologie 266 ff., are to be discarded from the religious beliefs of the Old Germans). Golther also notes that the glosse Cyuuari Suâpa from the Wessobrunn Prayer (Wackernagel 1827, 74) dating back to the end of the 8th century, had been interpreted as indication of the Swabians being ‘people of Ziu’ residing at Augsburg, also known as Ciesburc ‘fort of Ziu’. Golther points out that this theory has consistently been challenged. His attempt to explain that Ziesburg had been taken from the Svabian Ziestag following the relation of Eresburg and the Bavarian Ertag by 8th century writers seems somewhat far-fetched. Golther himself suspects a writing error in the Wessobrunn Glosses and concludes that: “[...] ist der ‘hieratische’ Namen der Schwaben und der ihrer ‘Ziuburg’ mit Vorsicht aufzunehmen, weil er vielleicht nur durch Schreibirrtum und gelehrte Fabelei im Ausgang des 8. Jahrhunderts zu Stande kam [...] (Golther 1995, 206) (the ‘hieratic’ name of the Swabians und that of their

149 ‘Ziuburg’ is to be taken with caution, as it possibly only occurred due to a writing error and thought fables in the end of the 8th century). Kohl agrees with this theory, noting: “Aus vielen Parallelhandschriften geht nämlich hervor, daß neben ciesburc oder ciesborc ganz andere Lesarten stehen, die es wahrscheinlich machen, daß lediglich ein Schreibfehler, ein Verlesen aus acsburc oder oesburc (= ogesburg) vorlag” (Kohl 1936, 32) (A number of parallel manuscripts show completely different readings apart from ciesburc or ciesborc, which make it likely that a spelling error, a reading failure of acsburc or oesburc (= ogesburg) occurred). A number of marginal notes of the Excerptum ex Gallica Historia (around 1135) stemming from the cathedral of , report on the Roman siege of the city Cisaris, which had been inhabited by Swabian tribes at that time: “[...] quam appellabant Cizarim ex nomine deae Cizae, quam religiosissime colebant. Cuius templume quoque ex lignis barbarico ritu constructum, postquam eo colonia Romana deducta est” (Pertz 1874, 389). Accordingly, the city has been named after the sanctuary dedicated to the pre Christian goddess Cisa. Kapfhammer and Bakker note that the 12th century text proves itself as diffuse compilation focusing on the fantastical attempts of explanation of incomprehensible, presumably pre-Alemannic place names, stating: “Ob man [...] eine alemannische Ziuverehrung (weiblich Cisa?) annehmen kann, ist wissenschaftlich nicht zu belegen” (Kapfhammer and Bakker). He further notes that fixed in the wall of the (present) Protestant church of Augsburg, a Roman head of Medusa was found. The figure which today is situated in the Roman museum of Augsburg, presumably encouraged the humanists of the 15th century to the confusion of Medusa and Cisa (Kapfhammer and Bakker). A historical work from the early 15th century points out the explanation:

Drusus [...] Augustam mutato nomine instauravit. Augusta namque tribus nominibus invenitur appellate. Vocabatur namque Cycza ab ydolo Veneris nomine Cycza de Cypro insula illuc translato, quod in eadem urbe in loco, qui adhuc dicitur Cyczzenberg, ob reverenciam Beneris pro dea colebatur [...] (Miedel 1916, 95)

The text equates the goddesses Cycza and and argues that her idol had been transferred form to this place where it had been worshipped which had been called Cyczzenberg (Reitzenstein 2013, 41). Another source from 1526 explains that Augsburg went

150 through three name-changes. The first name was Augspurg Vindelica, and the second is described as follows:

[...] Darnach, da die inwoner diser stat haben angepött die abgöttin der früchten, Isidem, die sunst Ceres wirt genennt, haben sie den namen diser stat Vindelica hingelegt und zů eeren der abgöttin dise stat mit zerrittem teutschen Cysaris genennt, welcher abgöttin angesicht in sant Urlichs [sic!] closter oben in der maur des Predigshaus eingemauert ist, darbei dise vers geschriben standt: ‘Quem male polluerat cultura nepharia dudum Gallus monticulum hunc tibi Zisa tulit.’ [...] (Sender 1894, 5-6).

(After that, as the inhabitants of this town have worshipped the goddess of fruits, Isidem, who usually is named Ceres, they discarded the name of the town Vindelica and in honour of the goddess they named the city with degraded German Cysaris, [the] goddess whose countenance is immured in the wall over the pulpit of St Ulrichs monastery, where this verse is written: ‘Quem male polluerat cultura nepharia dudum Gallus monticulum hunc tibi Zisa tulit.’ [...].)

This source also notes that after this event, the town has been renamed in favour of the Emperor Augustus around the year 15 BC (Sender 1894, 6).

5.4.1.2 Linguistic Material As noted above, the Old High German form Ziestac certainly seems to contain the name of the Germanic god *Zio/*Ziu. Ziestac certainly shows strong analogy to Danish/Norwegian Tirsdag and Engl. Tuesday. It thus makes sense to look for Scandinavian and English place names for comparison. As noted above, however, the name of the Germanic god (Old English) Tîw is less common among English place names. Indeed, it has been argued that his cult was already old when the Anglo-Saxon settlement set in. As has been pointed out, only a number of place names refer to this deity, such as Tuesley (1086 Tiwesle), Tuesnoad and Tysoe (1086: Tiheshoche; Old English *Tîges hôh) (Glling 1973, 122). As shown above, it is noteworthy that the most southernly place names containing the god Týr are found in Denmark. According to Brink, there are at least 33 place names coming into discussion, such as Tislund, Tiset (< Tisvith), Tisbjerg, Tishøj and the most promintent Tissø, just to name a few (Brink 2007, 119- 120). Krause does not doubt the authenticity of Ziu as god’s name, although the Old High German spelling Ziu only occurs in one group of sources, the Hrabanian Alphabet of the 9th century, which represents a compilation of Anglo-Saxon runes in the order of the Latin

151 alphabet. Alongside the symbols, the names of the runes are written in Old High German which are different to those in the common Germanic and Anglo-Saxon Futhark. For the

Anglo-Saxon ea-rune (A), the name Ziu was chosen as the Anglo-Saxon Futhark already had the god’s name in the form of Tí as designation for the t-rune (Krause 2014, 552). Discussing the name Teiwaz and the sources referring to this deity, Krause notes:

Dazu kommt eine alte Bezeichnung Augsburgs als Ziesburg, die man wohl mit Unrecht gelegentlich für eine gelehrte mittelalterliche Schöpfung gehalten hat. Weiter gesellt sich hinzu die Glosse cyuuari suapa, die schon J. Grimm wohl richtig mit Martem colentes43 wiedergegeben hat. Die Ziuverehrung der Schwaben wird ja durch das eben erwähnte Ziesburg = Augsburg nur bestätigt (Krause 2014, 552).

(The old designation for Augsburg, Ziesburg, has occasionally wrongly been taken to be a medieval creation. In addition to this, we have the gloss cyuuari suapa which was earlier correctly associated with Martem colentes by Grimm. The Ziu- cult of the Svabians is only confirmed by the aforementioned Ziesburg = Augsburg).

5.4.1.3 Archaeological Material The earliest (Alemannic) in linear form in the area of Augsburg has been dated to around 500 AD. From the 4th century onwards, there is evidence of Christianity, the first Christian dating to the 4th and 5th centuries, while the earliest archaeological finds of Christian origin come from the first half of the 4th century (Paulus 2016, 16). Beck notes that numerous pottery finds attest to the fact that an intact Late-Roman civilization must have still inhabited the area of Augsburg in the 4th century. At the same time, it is difficult to prove the presence of any Germanic settlers in this area during the same period. No pottery of Germanic origin has been found here, unlike in and Regensburg. The only object that points towards Germanic settlers is a comb from the late 4th or early 5th century (Beck 1971, 116- 117).

5.4.1.4 Conclusion Given the great number of entries surviving in several literary records, the few names that might refer to a pre-Christian deity named Cisa certainly stand out strongly. It is nonetheless

43Grimm takes the gloss to be Ziowari Martem colentes meaning ‘men of Ziu-Mars’, deriving from the Lat. colere ‘to inhabit, to worship’ (Grimm 1875, 165). 152 worth noting that these names all seem to trace back to the same source, the Historia Gallica (Kohl 1936, 32) and do not occur earlier than in a manuscript dating to the 10th century. While referring to an earlier source dating to the late 4th or early 5th century, this text is only accompanied by three other entries, one dating to the 12th century and two more dating to the 15th century. The large numbers of accounts mentioning the city of Augsburg make it hard to trust in the authenticity of the few sources that use the alternative name. As noted above, the archaeological finds of Roman material dating to a period between the 1st and 5th centuries AD, as well as the first Christian evidence dating to the 4th century both indicate the early arrival of the new religion. This clearly indicates a continuity of occupation in the area of Augsburg. At the same time, however, one has to remember the general lack of Germanic material finds from this area. Schnith dedicated a whole essay to the medieval chroniclers of Augsburg and their processing of truth and fiction to create historical works of questionable value, noting that “[...] bereits im Hochmittelalter pseudogelehrtes Wissen über die Schicksale der Stadt in einer fernen Vergangenheit verbreitet war [...], gab es doch im Mittelalter eine Vielzahl von Gründungsgeschichten einzelner Städte.” (Schnith 1988, 499) ([...] In the High Middle Ages, pseudo- knowledge about the history of the city [set] in a distant past was widespread [...], as a great number of founding histories of individual cities existed). The legends of the origin of Augsburg seem to have developed from one manuscript to another, the authors always willing to expand previous texts to match their own world view and need for explanation. Real events have been remodeled or adapted to fit the narrative timeframe and geographical setting resulting in a colourful mixture of information which was supposed to illuminate the early history of Augsburg (Schnith 1988, 509). Schnith suspects a desire for historical information, especially about the early history of Augsburg, lies behind the story about the city Zisaris and the battle between Romans and Germanic people, and tries to explain the authors’ comparisons of the goddess Cisa with Ceres and Venus as being the result of their incomprehension or unfamiliarity with such a deity (Schnith 1988, 505-509). In spite of this, in more recent times, Krause has started questioning the idea that the name Ziesburg was. He seems to believe in the authenticity of this place name. All in all, though, it must be said that the High-medieval comparisons between the potential Germanic deity Cisa and Ceres and Venus, and the attempt to suggest that the place name refers to a female counterpart to the deity Zio/Ziu seems rather far-fetched.

153 It is nevertheless interesting to bear in mind that as noted above, the English place name evidence does not show many Týr-names and the Scandinavian place names containing this god are almost exclusively concentrated around Denmark. If we accept the assumption that the god Týr was among the oldest religious conceptions of Germanic people (see Chapter 5.1.1.2), arguably this cult was already declining before the migration to England set in, never managing to spread to the north of Scandinavia. Regarding the similar lack of such names in the German-speaking area, we always need to bear in mind that (as noted in Chapter 4) the Germanic people were exposed to both permanent migration and intensive contacts to other cultures resulting in heavy borrowing in both directions and the instability of place names as such. Even if we accept the old age of the Tyr-cult and that it may have originated among the German tribes of Central Europe, we must not forget that most theophoric Germanic place- name evidence seems to be lost. When it comes down to it, the handful of High-medieval sources referring to Ciesburg are not enough to convince us of its authenticity as a theorphoric place name Ciesburg. It must therefore be labelled as “uncertain”.

5.4.2 Other Place Names Potentially Containing the god Zio/Týr Grimm has suggested that the name Siegburg derives from an earlier Sigeberg, a mountain which hosted a medieval court site, and tries to link the place name to the ON Sigtŷsberg and a Ziesberg in Weimar which he feels both refer to the deity Týr as a means of underlining his assumption (Grimm 1875, 164). The earliest document to mention Sigeburch is nonetheless from from 1065 Sigeberge appearing in 1069 and Siberg in 1218 (Greule 2014, 197). Grimm himself raises the possibility that the name could derive from the river Sieg that runs through this area, something which certainly seems plausible. Greule, meanwhile, explains that the first element of the place name must either derive from the Old High German *Sigin- which shortened to Middle High German Sige- with the meaning of ‘to move silently, slow’ or the pre-Germanic name *Segina which corresponds to the Proto-Celtic *sego- meaning ‘power, force’. The distribution of place names and names of other water bodies that can be traced back to the same Celtic word clearly support the interpretation of this being originally a Celtic place name (Greule 2014, 497-498). Niemayer nonetheless favours a derivation from the Old High German term sīgan ‘sink, fall, drop’ (Niemayer 2012, 587). All in all, a derivation of Siegburg from the name of the river Sieg which itself is derived from either the Celtic name or the Old High German sīgan makes good sense.

154 Grimm also points to Zierberg in Bavaria which is first mentioned in the Codex Traditionum of the Monumenta Boica in 1268, zand found in the forms Cirberch and Zirberch in 1269 (Monumenta Boica 1771, 71, 73, 75, 76; Grimm 1875, 164). He also considers Zierenberg in Lower Hesse deriving from the same deity (Zio/Týr) (Grimm 1875, 164). Sante has noted that south-east of Zierberg, at Dörnberg are the remains of a fort which has the same name and dates to the late La Tène period. Even older finds which come from the Neolithic period (from around 2000 BC) have also been excavated here. As Sante points out: “Funde innerhalb der Anlage deuten auf vorgesch. Zeitstellung. Wahrscheinlich liegt hier eher ein umhegtes Natur-Heiligtum als Befestigung vor” (Sante (ed.) 1960, 87-88) (Finds within the enclosure seem to have a prehistoric dating. Presumably we have a fenced natural sanctuary here). Elsewhere, Udolph points to two deserted medieval villages named Tieslund and Tiesholz in Schleswig-Holstein as coming into question (Udolph 2001, 417). Since both place names are situated in parts of what was formerly Denmark, they do not form part of this discussion of German theophoric place names (see also Laur 2001 on the theophoric place names of Schleswig-Holstein). Nonetheless, due to the overall lack of written sources confirming earlier unambiguous forms of these place names, they must be excluded from this present discussion, even as names belonging to the Danish area.

5.5 Donar in German Place Names

5.5.0 Introduction In Scandinavia, the god Þórr is very well presented and widespread in placenames. The greatest number of certain place names containing Þórr is in the area of southern Sweden but names are also found in Denmark, Norway and Iceland (see Figure 13). Place names such as Torslund(a), Torsåker, Torsång (< Thorsvanger) frequently occur, other place names including Torsvallen, Torsvi, Torshälla, (< Torsharg), Torsager, Torseke, Torsburgen and even a now lost Thorshugle (the second element represents *hugl(e) ‘mound’ probably grace mound’) (Brink 2007, 113, 115ing the god Þórr, such as seen in Þórsmörk and Þórshöfn are parIticularly common (see also Svavar Sigmundsson 1992). As Brink points out, “in the cult of Þórr, the god cannot have been exclusively a god of the sky. Names such as Torsåker, Torsager, and Torsvang indicate that Þórr must also have been connected to agrarian activities” (Brink 2007, 115). This is supported by what is said about him by Adam of Bremen, who described Þórr as

155 follows: “Thor inquiunt praesidet in aere, qui tonitrus et fulmina, ventos zmbresque, serena et fruges gubernat [...] Thor autem cum sceptro Iovem simulare videtur (Adam of Bremen 1917, 258-259) (Þórr they say, presides over the air, which controls thunders and lightnings, the winds and rains, fair weathers and crops [...]Þórr moreover, with his sceptre appears to look like Jove) (translation by Taggart 2017, 138). This account clearly supports the idea of Þórr being a fertility god associated with natural powers, showing particular connections to thunder, something which underlines the overlapping of the name Þórr and the appellative form.

Figure 13: The distribution of sacral place names containing Þórr in Scandinavia (open circles are uncertain, + represents problematic names) (Brink 2007, 114).

156 The age and popularity of these names is confirmed by the existence of English place names such as Thunderfield (< þunres felda) and Thunresfeld (Gelling 1974, 121, 122), other names such as Thunoreshlæw (‘the tumulus of Thunor’), Thunreslau (‘the tumulus of Thunor’), Thunderley (< T(h)unresleam ‘the sacred grove of Thunor’), Thursley (‘the sacred grove of Thunor’) and Thunorslege (another word ‘the sacred grove of Thunor’) further supporting the idea of places dedicated to Þórr existing in the open nature. Moving to the continent however, the only (highly uncertain) place name appearing to include the name of the god Donar in Holland is Donderslag (‘sacred grove of Donar’) (Boshouwers 2013, 40). In the German-speaking area, the identification of place names containing the deity Donar is even more difficult. Laur has pointed out, that, to his mind, the only two place names which are worth considering, are on formerly Danish territory in Schleswig-Holstein. These are Thorsberg (< Toßberg, Taßberg, Taschberg from *Tosbjerre or *Tåsbjerre [the r before s being lost as in the Jutlandic dialect Tosdaw used for the High German Donnerstag ‘Thursday’], according to Laur, originally deriving from *Thorsbjærg) and Taarstedt (Laur 2001, 146).44 Al the same further south, early scholars have frequently tried to point to various place names that seem to contain the name of Donar. Grimm, for example, was certain that names such as Donnersberg (the Rhineland-Palatinate), Donnersberg (Westphalia), Donnerkaute (Hesse), Tuniesberg (Bavaria), and Donershauk (Thurungia, Donnershauk today) were based on the name of the pre-Christian deity (Grimm 1875, 142), and without question numerous place names called Donnersberg exist throughout the German-speaking area. According to Ström and Biezais however other kinds of place names potentially connected to Donar are, absent (Ström and Biezais 1975, 87). The discussion of theophoric place names that potentially contain the god Donar in the German-speaking area naturally faces a number of basic issues. First of all, as noted above, the evidence for place names potentially referring to the pre-Christian deity Donar is extremely rare. The main problem, however, is the indistinguishability of the Old High German forms Thonar ‘Donar’ and the appellative thonar ‘thunder’ as noted above in Chapter 5.1.1.3 (Laur 2001, 82). As earlier chapters have shown, however, it is evident that mountains and hills were of particular importance for pre-Christian cult and it has been broadly accepted that

44It might be noted that in the case of Thorsbjærg, archaeological excavations have confirmed that depositions occurred at this sites over a long period (see Chapter 5.5.4, and the conclusion to this chapter). 157 religious worship was occasionally carried out on mountain tops, as they were sometimes considered holy. This is confirmed by contemporary sources such as, for example, Homilie De Falsis Deis (late 10th or early 11th century) which states that people in England make sacrifices to the god Óþon on top of high mountains45 (cf. Wulfstan of York 2011, 757-759; see also Chapter 5.1.1.2: Footnote 31). Hence, place names referring to mountains would certainly appear the most promising remnants of these times. As de Vries notes: “Die Gipfel von Bergen und Hügeln wurden von den Germanen wie das auch von anderen indogermanischen Völkern überliefert ist, für besonders heilig gehalten. Sie sind oft einem bestimmten Gotte geweiht, und werden nach diesem benannt [...]” (de Vries 1956, I: 344) (The peaks of mountains and hills were considered particularly holy, as shown with the other Indo-European peoples. They are frequently dedicated to a certain god, whom they are named after). In this context De Vries like Grimm points to the numerous mountains called Donnersberg in the German-speaking area, which to his mind bear witness to a Donar-cult (de Vries 1956, I: 354). As he notes: “Godesberg und Donnersberg setzen eine Verehrung von Wodan und Donar voraus, aber weisen nicht die bedeutsame Verbindung mit der Siedlungsgeschichte und der gesellschaftl. Organisation, wie es in Skand. der Fall ist, auf” (de Vries 1970, 49) (Godesberg and Donnersberg imply the worship of Wodan and Donar, but the same significant connection does not exist between settlement-history and social organisation as is the case in Scandinavia).

5.5.1 Donnersberg (Worms, Rhineland-Palatinate) 5.5.1.0 Introduction As noted above, on the surface the German name Donnersberg seems to indicate a holy site dedicated to the Germanic god Donar. The Donnersberg near Worms is certainly the highest mountain of the Palatinate region, and, ccording to Petry, has an important position in myth and history. For Petry, this proves that “es sich nicht um einen gewöhnlichen Wetterberg, sondern um einen Götterberg mit einer Kultstätte zur Verehrung Donars gehandelt hat“ (Petry 1959, 72) (it was not an ordinary ‘Wetterberg’, but a god’s-mountain with a cult site for worshiping Donar). To the best of my knowledge, only two records show earlier forms of the place name:

45This is mirrored by Procopius (see Chapter 5.2.1.1). 158 869 Thoneresberg 1331-1347 Donnersperg Table 7: See Kehr (ed.) 1934, 173; Haubrichs 1990, 30; Fabricius 2015, 169.

5.5.1.1 Literary Sources The earliest record from 869 notes “[...], qui dicitur prope Thoneresberg” (Kehr (ed.) 1934, 173; Haubrichs 1990, 30) (which is said to be near Thoneresberg). The second appears in a document, pastor Elias of Münstermaifeld (between 1331-1347) who notes “in curia Donnersperg” (written by Fabricius 2015, 169) (at the court Donnersperg). Petry however notes that another now lost inscription, saying “I.O.M for Jovi Optimo Maximo pointed towards a veneration of Jove during the Roman Period” (Petry 1959, 72). In accordance with the Interpretatio Romana, The Latin name Mons Jovis (‘the mountain of Jove’), would, have tend to support to the authenticity of the place name (see La Martinière 1747, 1763; Auermann 2004, 144). Nevertheless, during the Roman period up until the 5th century AD, this area was settled by Celtswhich suggests the name could perhaps originally derive from the Celtic term dunum for mountain, hill. Indeed, settlement in the area of Donnersberg is not mentioned by Caesar in his Commentarii de bello Gallico, something which would appear to denote the minor role of this site for his campaign leading to the conquest of Gaul. The same applies to other early works which do not mention the site either (neither the Celtic name of this settlement nor that of the mountain) or the name of the Celtic tribe who apparently lived in this central place (Engels 1981, 2; Zeeb-Lanz 2012, 218; Zeeb-Lanz 2015, 72). In a document from 1468, however, one of the lower peaks of the Donnersberg-massif is refered to Guddesberg, Gudensperg and Guttenpferch (Hoffmann 1957, 31). Having potentially experienced the same change from W- to G-, this Guddesberg would then seem to be a place name of the same type as these discussed in Chapter 5.3.2 including the name of the Germanic deity Wodan rather than Odin (see Schröder 1938, 118-119). It is nonetheless striking that these two place names occur in immediate proximity to one another. The late tradition of the later name Guddesberg, nonetheless makes it difficult to draw any conclusions about this case.

5.5.1.2 Archaeological Evidence As noted above, the archeological evidence on Donnersberg points to the remains of a Celtic settlement here, which was populated during the period from around 130 BC until the middle

159 of the first century BC, when it seems to have been abondoned. The leading archaeologist Andrea Zeeb-Lanz describes the site as follows: “Das Fundmaterial, dem anderer Oppida nördlich der Alpen in seinem Spektrum gut vergleichbar, spricht eindeutig für eine Funktion der Siedlung als Zentralort mit politischer und wirtschaftlicher Potenz” (Zeeb-Lanz 2016, 21- 22) (The find material, which in its spectrum compares well to the other Oppida [fortified settlements] north of the Alps, clearly points to the settlement having functioned as a central place with political and economical power). The remains of an extensive structure on the top of Donnersberg show a number of walls dividing the area into several sections with different purposes. Despite the the poor preservation of the topsoil, one of these sections, a rectangular enclosure (a so-called Viereckschanze), shows evidence of having had a multifunctional purpose with “möglicherweise sowohl kultisch-religiöser als auch profaner (sozialer, wirtschaftlicher, politischer) Bedeutung” (Zeeb-Lanz 2016, 33) (possibly both cultic- religious as well as profane (social, economical, political) importance). Around 120 examples of coins that can be assigned to the Leuker-tribe and can certainly be dated to a period between the end of the second and the early first century BC have been excavated here. The fact that later coins of the Treverer-type do not appear at Donnersberg, something which underlines the end of the Celtic settlement of the mountain before the middle of the first century BC (Zeeb-Lanz 2016, 46). The topographical conditions of Donnersberg including a relatively even mountain plateau, a predominant position offering a panoramic view over the Rhine valley, a water reservoir, watercourses on top of the mountain and an inexhaustible supply of stones that were used for the construction of the settlement, all of which makes this place an excellent settlement site for proto-urban civilisations (Zeeb-Lanz 2012, 217). It nonetheless remains puzzling why this place was abandoned during the last century BC and why it has never been fully recolonized by later tribes until the arrival of the Germans. Finds or structures from early Roman times are completely lacking, something which contradicts the assumption that people abandoned the site as a result of the approaching Roman Empire. It is thus evident that the desertion happened long before Germanic tribes and the Romans entered this area. In fact, the only Roman finds here date back to the end of the second or early third centuries AD, potentially representing remains of a small Roman observation post built as a result of the Germanic invasions in around 259/260 AD (Bernhard 2001, 322). In an online interview from

160 2014, Zeeb-Lanz suggests that the name Donnersberg comes from the Middle Ages and means a mountain that attracts thunder (Zeeb-Lanz 2014). According to Helmut Bernhard, the area around Worms was not widely settled by Germanic tribes, until the last third of the 5th century AD. The largest early medieval burial ground within the area of the Palatinate is situated at Bockenheim (about 23 km away from Donnersberg) pointing to the onset of settlement taking place after 450 AD, in the last third of the 5th century at the latest. The 581 burials here show high material status and date to a period between the 5th and the 7th centuries. The fact that the population in Germanic can be verified by several single finds, such as weaponry (Bernhard 1997, 32-34), and fibulas of both Gothic and Franconian types, already noted several rich chamber graves dating to the 6th century have been found. Two of these graves included the bodies of two horses in each case, the horses of the second grave haveing been beheaded. Another group of burial mounds from the 7th century found in the eastern area of the cemetery, indicate the emergence of a class, who presumably attempted to stand out from the ordinary people (Bernhard 1997, 39- 42).

5.5.1.3 Conclusion As the archaeological investigations noted above have shown, that the area around Donnersberg (Worms) was indeed populated by Germanic tribes. The main problem regarding the interpretation of the name however is the weak tradition of the use of the place name and the lack of Germanic archaeological material at the actual site of Donnersberg. The fact that the area of Donnersberg went through a long uninhabited period after the Celtic settlement does not speak in favour of the place name being old. It is, however, striking that another peak of the Donnersberg-massif called Guddensberg which could reflect another example for a mountain name containing the name Wodan, although the lack of earlier sources suggesting this which show similar forms to place names such as Godesberg (see Chapter 5.3.2) do not allow any firm conclusion and must remain open for future research. Indeed, no other place names in the area around Donnersberg (Worms) allow us to view the place name in the context of a broader sacral landscape. In this case, the more obvious conclusion would seem to be the profane interpretation of the ‘mountain that attracts thunder’ until future research provides new contributions and earlier evidence of the place name Guddensberg. Nonetheless the lack of a Germanic settlement at the site of Donnersberg

161 naturally does not completely rule out the authenticity of this place name. As has been pointed out in Chapter 5.2.0, a settlement is not essential to confirm the existence of an original sacral place name. On the contrary, as has been often noted, names of gods are rather unlikely to be found compounded to terms referring to settlements. A sacred site is often sacred because it is away from (or at least on the periphery of) a settlement.

5.5.2 Donnersberg (Wormeln, North Rhine-Westphalia) 5.5.2.0 Introduction Donnersberg near Wormeln is a mountain situated between Wormeln, Germete and Welda. According to Udolph as with most of the other examples under discussion here, the name of this mountain either derives from the Germanic deity Donar or means a mountain that attracts thunderstorms (Udolph 2000, 417).

1100 Thuneresberg 1226 Thuneresberg 1123 Thuneresberhc 1239 Thonrseberch 1205 Dunrisberg Table 8: cf. Von Spilcker 1826.

5.5.2.1 Literary Sources Von Spilcker has summarised the above historical notices which go back to the 12th and 13th centuries, and mention an ancient court at Donnersberg near Wormeln. The first is a document written by the Bishop of in 1100 which reports a deal between Abbot Gumpert and a certain Bobico which was confirmed at the court of Erpho at Thuneresberg (von Spilcker 1826, 56). The original source appears in Schaten’s Annalium Paderbornensium Liber VII: “Quae coemptio postea apud Thuneresberg in placito Erphonis praesidis [...] confirmata est” (Schaten (ed.) 1693, 649) (The acquisition has been confirmed at the court of Abbot Erphon at Thuneresberg). A Hessian document from 1123 then talks about a donation of the castle Helmburg to a certain count of Thuneresberhc (von Spilcker 1826, 56; Wigand (ed.) 1825, 222). In another document from 1205, the Bishop of Mainz Sifrid also notes a place of assembly at the Dunrisberg: “in comitia de Dunrisberg” (von Spilcker 1826, 56) (at the court of Dunrisberg). A document from 1226 then briefly mentions a court at Thuneresberg, a document from 1239 using the form Thonrseberch: “a judicio nostro thonrseberch” (von

162 Spilcker 1826, 58; Grimm 1875, 141) (due to our judgement at Thonresberch). Von Spilcker concludes:

Es darf wohl ohne Zwang angenommen werden, daß die verschiedenen Benennungen Thuneresberg, Thuneresberhc, Dunrisberg, Thonrseberch immer nur denselben Ort bezeichnen; und es läßt sich die Vermuthung, daß dieser da zu suchen sey, wo […] Donnersberg liegt, durch mehrere Gründe unterstützen. Der Name, den diese Anhöhe bei Wormeln führt, stimmt mit den älteren Benennungen völlig überein, und die Ortschaften, welche als zu dem alten Gerichte gehörig uns Urkunden verzeichnen, liegen nicht fern von dem Donnersberge bei Wormeln (von Spilcker 1826, 59).

(It may well be assumed without forcing things that the different names Thuneresberg, Thuneresberhc, Dunrisberg, Thonrseberch always refer to the same place; and the assumption that this [place] is to be found, where […] Donnersberg is situated, is supported by several things. The name which is given to this elevation near Wormeln totally corresponds to the older names, and the villages which are recorded as being related to the old court in the documents, are not far from the Donnersberg near Wormeln.)

Ludwig Schrader also accepts the Donnersberg as being an old assembly place, or ‘Dingstätte’ (Schrader 1832, 176). De Vries concludes: „wenn auf dem westfälischen Thuneresberg im Mittelalter ein großes Volksgericht gehalten wurde, spätere Überlieferungen eine Heiligkeit solcher Berge beweisen, darf man damit rechnen, daß sie ursprünglich Donar geweiht waren“ (De Vries 1956, II: 112) (If a large court was held on the Westphalian Thuneresberg in the Middle Ages, and later traditions point to the sanctity of such mountains, one may expect that it was previously dedicated to Donar).

5.5.2.2 Archaeological Evidence Once again, extensive grave finds in the surrounding areas of Donnersberg prove the presence of Germanic people in the region. One of the largest fields of graves to have been excavated in Westphalia, is situated at Soest, about 80 km apart from Wormeln. During the excavation work in 1930, it came to light that these 216 graves show a clear distinction from each other in terms of their burial structures and equipment. The largest group of burials include 174 wooden-coffins which are chronologically distinguished from eight chamber graves containing the remains of female bodies and two chamber graves containing male remains which date to a period between the last third of the 6th and the end of the 7th century. 13 burials of horses, have also found one in a similar chamber-like construction. Unfortunately, the original records 163 of this excavation got lost, which has impeded the interpretation of the graves and finds significantly (Gärtner 2012, 785). One find of particular interest is a disc-fibula showing runic inscriptions of the elder Fuþark dated to the last third of the 6th century, the grave itself being dated to around 600 AD. The inventory of the grave points to it having belonged to member of the upper class connected to the Merovingian-Franconian civilisation (Reihengräberfelderzivilisation) (Martin 2004, 180; Siegmüller, cf. Peters 2011). One female and two male graves dating to the first half of the 6th century and two male graves dating to around 700 AD have been excavated. In Daseburg a district of , around 3 km from Wormeln and Donnersberg a -grave along with others was found. One of the female graves contained a fragment of a fibula of the Hahnheim type, which was particularly widespread among Franconian settlers around the Middle Rhine area (Siegmund 1999, 257). Horse burials certainly appear to have been common practice in this area, as besides eight human bodies the grave field of Ossendorf (near Warburg) also included three graves containing horses. The grave goods of the human graves date to the last third of the 6th century. One of the male bodies buried in a tomb grave was accompanied by weaponry including spear, sword and a pair of stirrups as well as a snaffle-bit, indicating that the man belonged to the upper class. The tomb containing the female body also contained beads and common fibulas as well as a bangle made of ivory, and a weaving sword which ranks among the unusual finds in this area. As Siegmund notes: “Bei Sachsen, Franken und Alemannen war die Beigabe von Webschwertern unüblich, sie findet sich vorwiegend bei reichen Langobardinnen und Thüringerinnen und strahlte verinezelt in von ihnen beeinflusste Gebiete aus” (Siegmund 1999, 258) (Weaving swords as burial goods are uncommon among the Saxons, Franks and Alamanni. They are mainly found among wealthy Lombards and Thuringians and occasionally in areas under their influence). From an archaeological point of view, the custom of burial goods in this area seems to have come to an end by the late 7th century signifying the arrival of Christianity. As Grünewald notes: “Westfalen folgt dabei einer Entwicklung, die im Rheinland bereits etwas früher einsetzte, aber auch im Norden – dann wieder etwas später – zu spüren ist” (Grünewald 2005, 77) (Westfalen follows a development that already began earlier in Rhineland, which is also felt in the North – although a little later). It is nevertheless difficult to ascribe the burial finds to specific Germanic tribes as the examination of these burial grounds frequently show inconsistent results. This might indicate that the area of North Rhine-Westphalia was under the influence of different Germanic groups

164 and that as noted elsewhere (see Chapter 4) migration and cultural borrowing, played a large part in shaping the cultural landscapes here. It is, nevertheless, clear that Germanic tribes inhabited these regions at least from the Merovingian period onwards (Siegmund 1999, 260- 261).

5.5.2.3 Conclusion It is clearly again difficult to decide whether the Donnersberg in North Rhine-Westphalia is indeed named after the Germanic deity Donar. If future examinations can prove a potential court site existed on Donnersberg, the plausibility of Donnersberg being derived from Donar would naturally increase. The archaeological evidence of the surrounding areas nevertheless prove the presence of Germanic people in the region, something which might also speak in fovour of the theophoric interpretation of the place name. It must nonetheless be taken into account that the earliest mentions of the place name only date to the 12th century, long after the Christianisation of the area, something which reinforces the uncertainty about whether the place name is original.

5.5.3 Donnsberg (Bavaria) 5.5.3.0 Introduction The Donnsberg is another elevation adjoining the village of Nordendorf in Bavaria. Unfortunately, only two earlier forms of the place name Donnsberg have been recorded, both rather late. The Bavarian noble family of Donnersberg is nonetheless relatively well attested in a number of documents (see von Raiser 1824, 50-51).

1135 Doneresberch 1298 Donresberg 1233 Tonirsperch 1470 Dunmersberg 1287 Donrsperch Table 9: see also Oesterley 1889, 131.

With the regard to the references in the table above, the Monumenta Boica, an important source for Bavarian history, witnesses a certain Sifridus de Doneresberch in 1135 and Sifridus dapifer (Truchsess) de Tonirsperch is mentioned in 1233 (Monumenta Boica (XXII) 1814, 35,

165 209). Another document from 1287 then notes “Dapifero de Donrsperch [...] Wernhero” (Monumenta Boica (XXIII) 1815, 19).

5.5.3.1 Archaeological Evidence The remains of a medieval castle are barely visible today on top of the mountain Donnsberg, not far from Nordendorf, Bavaria. In the neighbouring town of Nordendorf, a large cemetery (Reihengräberfeld) of the Merovingian period was discovered in the 19th century. The earliest of the 443 graves comes from the middle of the 6th century AD. The burial objects found here include Alemannic products of high quality and both Franconian and Lombard imported goods (Bosl (ed.) 1961, 494-495). The Nordendorf fibulas dated to around the middle of the 6th century are some of the most important finds, referring to the local Germanic religion in continental Europe (Düwel 2008, 63), because the Nordendorf Fibula I contains a runic inscription including the name of the god Þonar (see Chapter 5.1.1.1), underlining that the god was evidently known in this area.

5.5.3.2 Conclusion This is the only case in which a Germanic site with a potential theophoric name lies in the immediate neighbourhood of a rich archaeological excavation site that has provided one of very few instances of written evidence of pre-Christian cult. As noted above both the place name and the Nordendorf Fibula I seem to refer to the same pagan god, something which could of course be pure coincidence but might also support the idea of a relationship between the place name Donnsberg and the archaeological finds, therby wondering that such placenames did occasionally refer to the god rather than thunder. Due to the lack of earlier references to the name of Donnsberg, however it is hard to make a final conclusion. There nevertheless seem to be a good chance that Donnsberg represents an original theophoric place name.

5.5.4 Other Place Names Potentially Containing the Name of the God Donar 5.5.4.1 Donarquelle Clay mentions a spring called Donarquelle (‘the Spring of Donar’) near Geismar, Hesse (see Chapter 5.3.3.1), in a paper from 2008, noting that the name might potentially be derived from the Old High German Thunaer-kwelle. He points out: “The antiquity of these minor place-

166 names is questionable, however, for their association with a site which is explicitly connected in local tradition with the Oak of Thor [robur Iovis] may mean that they appeared as embellishments of tradition, rather than foundations for it” (Clay 2008, 240). In spite of this, Clay seem to ignore the fact there is good evidence for the name Donarquelle being an invention from the modern period, the earlier byname being Sauerbrunnen (‘sour well’) (due to the sour taste of the water) which is still in use today. A calender of the St Peter monastery in Fritzlar certainly notes heiligenburn (‘holy well’) in 1360, a name that survived until to the Early Modern Age, later records talking of heiligenborn in 1368, and heiligenborn around 1390 and again in 1450. The well was refered to Surborn, sawerborne and saurnborn in 1579. It is only later the name Donarquelle appears, presumably due to reasons of marketing (Küther (ed.) 1980, 263). The assumption that Donarquelle represents the original name, which was changed after Boniface’s conversion of Hesse (and the destruction of the robur Iovis, discussed in Chapter 5.2.1.3) certainly cannot be confirmed and the OHG form in question does not appear in any earlier written sources. This place name must therefore be omitted from the discussion.

5.5.4.2 Donnersreuth and Tuniesberg Doneresreut (Donnersreuth today), Bavaria, appears in earlier sources as Thoneresfelt (date unknown). Föstermann has nevertheless pointed out that: “Bei den namen auf -feld und -reut ist dieser n. als ein menschenname [...] anzusehen” (Förstemann 1872, 1456) (In the case of names ending in -feld and -reut, the name is to be seen as personal name [...]). Due to the lack of literary sources that address the origin of the name, it must remain open for future research. Tuniesberg (Bavaria) first appears in a document from 822 (Eilenstein 2011, 436) only later being referred to as Duonesberc (1153), Donersperg (1194) and Donersperch (1300) (Grimm 1875, 142). This fact naturally makes an interpretation in favour of the pre-Christian deity uncertain.

5.5.4.3 Donnershauk and Donersted Donnershauk is the name of a peak of the mountain Rennsteig, Thurungia. As noted above, this was also considered as theophoric place name by Grimm (Grimm 1878, 142), but was neglected by de Vries, who also dismissed Grimm’s idea of Donnersted bearing any theophoric meaning (de Vries 1956, II: 113). Again, the lack of any early written sources confirming these

167 place names makes any firm conclusions impossible. Further research might nevertheless bring new insights. Donnershauk certainly once again refers to a mountain, raising the possibility of a parallel to the large number of theophoric place names noted elsewhere in this thesis which consists of names of deities connected to words featuring the meaning ‘mountain, hill’. Donnersted, however, appears much more unlikely, as it refers to a settlement name, and as has been pointed out several times, new settlement names do usually contain names of gods (see Chapter 5.2.2.4). It is also important to bear in mind that names of deities commonly occurred in personal names, especially during the later pagan times, and that this was frequently reflected by Scandinavian place names (Jankuhn 1979, 373).

5.5.4.4 Conclusion All in all, the present evidence shows that place names potentially containing the name of the god Donar are difficult to assess. As noted above, the main problem lies in the overlapping of the god’s name and the appellative form. Hence, only two of the place names discussed above can be labelled “rather likely”, while the others must remain open for further discussions. While this study does not address the sacral place names of the Schleswig-Holstein area (which were thoroughly discussed by Laur in 2001), Thorsberg represents one place name of particular significance for the general discussion of Germanic theophoric place names containing the god Donar and references to mountains, which will be discussed briefly. As noted above (see Chapter 5.2.1.1), Thorsberg represents one of a small but continually growing number of instances which show a clear connection between place-name evidence and archaeology. Laur has shown the derivation as coming from *Thorsbjærg, Petersen showing the field name Thorsmoor existing in the 17th century (Laur 2001, 146; cf. Petersen 1833). As Jankuhn notes: “Gerade in diesem Fall, in dem der theophore Flurname sich mit einem archäologisch nachweisbaren Heiligtum deckt, wird man schwerlich an Zufälligkeiten glauben dürfen” (Jankuhn 1979, 373) (In this case, in which the theophoric field name is linked to an archaeologically provable sanctuary, one can hardly talk of coincidence). The archaeological complex of Thorsberg moor is at present the most southern instance in the formerly Scandinavian area of the long been cultic deposition of large amounts of weaponry, generally interpreted as the sacrifice (Müller-Wille 1992, 72; Simek 2011, 214). The Thorsberg bog apparently had its heyday during the early Roman Imperial Period then being followed up

168 by a period characterised by a greater scarcity of finds but nonetheless continued use from the late 4th until the 6th centuries (Simek 2011, 164). The earliest finds date to the Stone and Bronze Age, something which suggests continuity of the site being used in a religious context from the period of Celtic settlement until the time of Germanic population. The spectrum of finds is multifaceted. The most important finds include a face mask made of silver dating to the 3rd century, textiles, and objects containing runic inscriptions (Carnap-Bornheim and Nyman 2007, 123-127). Jankuhn notes that the discovery of the second major sacred bog at Vimose, the name of which is clearly linked to the old place name referring to vé/vi ‘sanctuary’ suggesting a connection on Thorsberg and the bog sanctuary there and the idea of place names serving as a reminder of belief as well as cultic activity (Jankuhn 1979, 373). Whether the name Thorsberg dates back to the Roman Iron Age is nonetheless still uncertain (Müller- Wille 1992, 76). While German place names containing the name of the god Donar (for the most part) are rather inconclusive, Thorsberg is a particularly strong example for the existence of such place names.

5.6 Balder in German Place Names The evidence of continental place names including the god Baldr is highly uncertain. Even in Scandinavia, these names are very rare, and none of those that have been found can be confirmed without any doubt as being original. Indeed, to Brink’s mind, place names involving the name of the deity Baldr are non-existent in Sweden. He nly mentioning in a very tentative fashion the Danish Baldersbæk, the Norwegian Balleshol (a Balldrshole 1356, but a Baldissole 1358) and Balsnes (Balldrsnes 1342, af Baldaznese 1530, Billisnes 1559). As he notes:

Unfortunately, the older forms vary considerably, and it is not obvious that the names have Baldrs- as the first element. To conclude, there may be a few names in Denmark and Norway indicating the existence of a cult of the god Baldr, but the evidence is fragile and inconclusive (Brink 2007, 120-122).

According to Johnston, the same applies in England. Only a small number of English place names potentially including the name of the god Baldr come into question: Baldersby (Balderbi 1086), Balderstone (Balderston 1323) and Balderton (Baldertune 1086) (Johnston 1915, 122). In the case of the first, however, Mills’ Oxford Dictionary of British Place Names gives the explanation ‘farmstead or village of a man called Baldhere’ for Baldersby suggesting it consists of an Old English personal name and the Old Norse term bý. The same explanation 169 is given for Balderstone and Balderton (Mills 1991, 30). All in all, there is no evidence that the Anglo-Saxon settlers ever knew of a god called Baldr. It seems more likely that these place names derived from the Old English personal name B(e)aldhere (Förstemann 1900, 206). As Sawyer notes, “the Yorkshire name Baldersby [...] could be a new Scandinavian name, but it could equally well be a Scandinavian form of the Balderton” (Sawyer 2003, 100). The same approach is taken by Gelling, who, in her paper “Further Thoughts on Pagan Place- Names”, does not mention any English place names as containing the god Baldr at all, only noting: “The names of three heathen gods, Wōden or Wēden, Thunor, and Tīw or Tig” (Gelling 1973, 115). The same thing seems to apply to the Dutch region, where there are no examples of such place names (cf. Boshouwers 2013). Given the fact that only a handful of place names potentially designating the deity Baldr are found throughout Scandinavia and no trustworthy ones are found in England, it is hard to believe in the authenticity of any such place names in the German-speaking area. Indeed, recent scholars scarcely waste any time on these names. As noted above, the Second Merseburg Charm, surviving from around the first half of the 9th century is the only existing text in Old High German that appears to address a pre-Christian deity that might be called Baldr (Sievers 1872, 10, 12; Eichner and Nedoma, 2000/2001, 12; 227; Lindow 2001, 227). The text runs as follows:

Phol ende uuodan ziholza du uuart Phol and Wodan went to the forest. demo balderes uolon sin uuoz birenkit Then Balder’s horse sprained its foot. thu biguol en sinhtgunt . sunna era suister Then Sinthgunt sang charms, and Sunna her sister; thu biguol en friia uolla era suister Then Friia sang charms, and Volla her sister; thu biguol en uuodan so he uuola conda Then Wodan sang charms, as he well could: sose benrenki sose bluotrenki sose lidi be it -sprain, be it blood-sprain, be it limb-sprain: renki ben zi bena bluot zi bluoda bone to bone, blood to blood lid zi geliden sose gelimida sin limb to limb, so be they glued together (Sievers 1872, 10). (Lindow 2001, 227).

As Lindow writes in his book on Baldr: “Phol may be indentical with Fulla in Scandinavian, and Wodan is certainly Odin. Most observers accept that Balder is identical with Baldr, although some think that Balder here may be a noun meaning ‘lord’” (Lindow 2001, 228). As Lindow notes, it is unclear exactly who the Second Merseburg Charm refers to since otherwise both Phol and Baldr are unattested in the west-Germanic languages (Lindow 2001, 228). De Vries nonetheless considered two German names containing the deity: Baldersborn (Balzersborn, later Behältersborn, Hesse) and Balderswang (Balderschwang today, Bavaria)

170 (De Vries 1957, 230), even thoughSchröder had earlier rejected the authenticity of these names (Schröder 1922, 18), and Flodström and Helm were of similar opinion (Flodström 1932, 269; Helm 1944, 219). While Ström does not declare himself in favour of either of these two place names, he notes “Die Annahme, daß Balder auf dem Kontinent vorkommt, wird dadurch bestärkt, daß hier sein Sohn [Fosite, Forseti] uns entgegentritt“ (Ström 1975, 94) (The assumption that Balder is attested on the continent is based on the mention of his son [Forsite, Forseti]). He feels that Fositesland (in Helgoland, situated on formerly Danish territory), and the two later references to Forseti in the literary sources (Grímnismál 15 and Gylfaginning: Snorri Sturluson 2005, 26) are sufficient enough to prove the authenticity of the Baldr-place names (Ström 1975, 93-94). Helm, however, pointed out that the German language only knows the Old Bavarian personal name Paltar, which occurs in a number of field names. He too believed there is no evidence of the god’s name in the German place-name hoard (Helm 1944, 218). In earlier times, however, Grimm tried to place Baldr in the context of the potential worship of wells and springs, pointing to the place names Pholesbrunno (Pfuhlsborn today, Thuringia) and Baldebrunno (according to Grimm deriving from Baldersbrunno) as proof. Baldebrunno, however, is noted in a copy from the 11th century of a document issued in 646, an alteration which Bugge feels is too early for an authentic place name containing the name of the god Baldr (Grimm 1875, 168-167; Bugge 1889, 309-310). Föstemann too gives the year 646 as a date for the first mention of Baldebrunno, something which would underline Bugge’s statement (Förstemann 1967, 344). While Udolph follow up other scholars in rejecting both place names suggested by De Vries, he nonetheless points to Ballstedt (Thuringia, deriving from Balderesteti, which is mentioned in 977 and involves the personal name Baldheri), Balderscheid (Hesse) and Baldirsbach (today Ballersbach, Hesse) as other place names involving the name which can all be ignored, adding his support to Förstemann’s claim that these names all have an origin in the personal name Bald-her(i) (Udolph 2001, 416; see also Förstemann 1900, 238). To Udolph’s mind, all attempts at theophoric interpretation with regard to this name can all be dismissed (Udolph 2001, 416). Given the fact that neither Scandinavian nor English place names undoubtedly refer to the god Baldr, it appears reasonable to follow Förstemann’s, Schröder’s and Udolph’s arguments. It is nonetheless still quite puzzling that the Second Merseburg Charm still

171 mentions Baldr in connection with Frigg and Wotan. It might be reasonable to take a closer look at the place name referring to his name in connection to a sacred well in the future.

172 6 Conclusion

Figure 14: This map has been designed in such a way that it visually displays the main results of this study, noting the place names discussed and their likely/unlikely veracity. As noted elsewhere, the theophoric place names from Schleswig-Holstein (except for Thorsberg) are not included on this map. For names from this area, see Laur 2001.

173 As Chapter 4 of the thesis has shown, the Germanic world of central Europe seems to have started to develop with the emergence of the different Germanic tribes during the last centuries BC and the first centuries AD, and the onset of the Migration Period around 375 AD, which led to the tribes moving and spreading out across Europe. As the chapter in question has underlined, it is important to bear in mind that especially during this later period of constant movement, the Germanic tribes incorporated both early Christian and late Roman customs and beliefs into their own worldview, as well as a number of features that originated amongst the Celtic peoples. This form of syncretism is particularly evident in the archaeological evidence that is found scattered all over Europe (which has been touched on in Chapter 5), and it is logical that it may also have influenced theophoric place names. If one takes a closer look at the map above (see Figure 12), it is clear that most of the potential theophoric place names that have been discussed are concentrated around the centre of modern Germany. This naturally raises the question of whether this area was some kind of reliktområden, where older cultural traditions have survived for longer than in other regions (on this concept, see af Klintberg 1972). One also wonders whether a correlation might exist between the later conversion of some parts of the German-speaking area and the survival of these place names. In this context, it is nonetheless striking that the area in question involves large parts of Thuringia which had formed part of the Franconian Empire from as early as around 530 AD (cf. Simek 2011, 148-149; see also Figure 5). In contrast to this, as has been discussed in Chapter 4.4, the Saxons evidently remained pagan for a longer time, in spite of Charlemagne’s missionary attempts. Indeed, Letters written to and by missionaries during the missionary period make it clear that parts of Hesse and Saxony (key subjects of missionary work under Charlemagne and Boniface) remained pagan until the 8th and 9th centuries. This is supported by archaeological evidence, runic inscriptions and early texts such as the Merseburg Charm which make clear that the memory of pre-Christian myths and practices still remained vivid in this area in the 10th century (see Chapter 5.6; cf. Simek 2005, 79). In spite of this, as the map above shows, relatively few trustworthy (or untrustworthy) theophoric place names have been found in this area. Returning to the question of the place names in Thuringia: Even though this area formed part of the Franconian Empire from a relatively early point, the possibility remains that parts of the population remained pagan or at least took on a form of religious syncretism that did not exclude their own traditions. As Gunnell notes: “what is being stated when an official

174 announcement is made that a [...] country has been ‘converted’ is that a change has taken place at the top [...]. The passing of a law at this time [...] seldom meant that it brought about real changes in behaviour” (Gunnell 2013, 157). While this is true, it is also clear that concept of reliktområden is closely interwoven with the concept of lieux de mémoire (cf. Nora 1989; see Chapter 1.1: Footnote n3). In short, those sites most capable of maintaining cultural memories are sites in which the landscape itself functions as a form of preservation. This could be because of the nature of the landscape itself (as with Sætesdal in Norway and Dalarna in Sweden). But it could also be for other reasons. This evidently needs more research in the future. If we go on to consider the names of the gods potentially represented in Germanic place names, another set of conclusions come to light. First of all, as Brink, Vikstrand and others have noted (cf. Brink 2007; Sundqvist 2002; Vikstrand 2001), it is striking that the Old Norse Vanir (if they existed outside the mythological perception) seem to be limited to Scandinavia, as no German, English (Anglo-Saxon), or Dutch place names include the names of any of the gods associated with the Vanir (cf. Simek 2006, 486; McKinnell 2005, 18). Indeed, the same thing is seen in the archaeological and literary evidence from these areas (unless one wishes to assign Tactitus’ accounts of Nerthus and the Ingvaeones to the area in question: see Tacitus 1894, 90). At the same time, it is clear that those gods whose names appear in the few theophoric place names in Germany were male gods belonging to the Æsir which are potentially found as far south as Bavaria. If nothing else, this supports the idea that that these gods originally came up from the south (if they were not known across the Germanic/Nordic area from an early point. Indeed, there is good evidence to support both Donar and *Tíw having direct relations in other religions further south (see Chapters 5.1.1.2 and 5.2.1.3). Something else what is evident is that theophoric place names of this kind are much greater in number in the Nordic countries than in Germany. Why is this? This might of course be due to the general persistence of pre-Christian beliefs in Scandinavia and their unhindered development in these part. As noted above in Chapter 4.5, the tribes settled in Scandinavia were not exposed to missionary attempts or syncretism until much later. There was much less influence here from Roman polytheism or rising Christianity that seems to have interrupted the expansion and rooting of pre-Christian ideas on the Continent at a much earlier point. Returning to those names that seem to have survived in the Germanic area (which are mainly connected to Wodan and Donar), it is also interesting that those place names that are

175 more certain are commonly connected to the secondary term -berg. As noted in Chapter 5.2.1.1, the idea of mountains being holy sites (especially related to sky gods) is attested to throughout Europe and especially known in Scandinavia (Brink 2001, 84). As pointed out in Chapter 5.1.1.2: Footnote 31, this idea (reported by both Procopius and Ælfric) was evidently still known by the Icelandic settlers in the late 9th century. The Germanic theophoric place names ending with -berg (if they are genuine) also underline Tacitus’ idea of cult sites being set outside (cf. Tacitus 1993). The fact that some such sites were also used as traditional sites for gatherings (see Chapters 5.2.0) may lend further support to this idea. Something else that is evident in the German theophoric place names is that while the expression vé (Old High German wîh) seems to be attested for a cult site (see Chapter 5.2.2.1), there is a total lack of potential theophoric place names involving terms similar to the Old Norse -hof that designate sites of “indoor worship”. One wonders whether this might lend support to the idea of such indoor sites being a later development (they are also found in Iceland (see Chapter 5.2.2.3; see also Brink 1996; Vikstrand 2001; and Gunnell 2001, 6 on the development of indoor worship). All in all, the rich place name evidence in Scandinavia (in contrast to that in Germany), suggests that theire pre-Christian religious ideas and practices were allowed to develop steadily in a rather stable environment, outdoor places of worship eventually going on to be replaced by man-made structures (perhaps under influence from Christianity). This was a development that never seems to have been known in the Germanic area, possibly as a result of the influences noted above: the relatively early Christianisation of central Europe; the constant movement of the Germanic tribes (as a result of various pressures); and the exposure to various attractive cultural influences. Another notable feature of the potential Germanic place names is, as noted above, the lack of female gods within the theophoric place-name landscape, in spite of the fact that archaeological evidence, such as the anthropomorphic idols with female attributes found in the sacrificial bog at Oberdorla (Thuringia: see Chapter 5.3.3.2) underlines that goddesses must have existed46 (cf. Simek 2011, 217; see also Shaw 2011; Motz 1984). One wonders why this might be.

46An exception might be Ciesburg (Augsburg), although as noted in Chapter 5.4.1, there is no firm evidence to support the existence of a goddess ever going by this name. There seems nevertheless to be a certain connection between sacred water bodies and female deities as has been argued by Gunnell in his forthcoming article “The Goddess in the Dark Waters” (2019). See further Shaw’s article “Pagan Goddesses in the Early Germanic World” (2011) and Motz’ article “The Winter Goddess: Percht, Holda, and Related Figures” (1984). 176 All in all, it is evident that the names in the German-speaking area seem to reflect those found the Dutch and English area (which is, of course, logical). All three regions, those place names involving the names of Wodan and Donar names seem to be more trustworthy; although England also has several place names that seem to contain the name of the god Týr (see Chapter 5.4.0), which, if they are authentic, would logically have been brought to Britain by the Anglo-Saxon settlers (implying that belief in this god must also have existed at least in northern Germany). As noted in Chapter 5.4, the scholars have argued that Týr must represent one of the oldest deities, something suggested by the connection between the god’s name and the plural appellative tívar, a general term for gods; and the fact that Týr’s name can be traced back to the Indo-Germanic term *Deiwos, meaning ‘sky, light, bright’ (Laur 2001, 81; see Chapter 5.1.1.2), something which brings us back to the idea of ‘sky gods’, a term which also seems to have been applicable to Donar and Wotan. As has been noted, those Nordic place names containing the name of the god Týr are almost exclusively found in Denmark (cf. Brink 2007) and northern Schleswig-Holstein (formerly part of Denmark), if we trust Laur (2001). Bearing all of the above in mind (including what has been said about the English place names), one wonders why no trustworthy place names containing the name of this deity have been found farther south. Was the god a phenomenon that was limited to the region of Denmark and northern Schleswig-Holstein, or has the evidence for his existence further south simply got lost? This is another question that deserves further examination. Returning to the god Wodan, one of the two gods found in all the areas that have been investigated, as has been noted, most Nordic place names containing his name (in the form of Óðinn) seem to be concentrated around southern- and central Sweden (cf. Brink 2007; see Figure 7) although a number are also found in Norway and Denmark (but not Iceland). As has been shown (in Chapter 5.1.1), early literary evidence exists in the Germanic area attesting to belief in this god (in some form or other), something which seems to be supported by several place names in Germany, as well as England and Holland. The god was evidently well known over a wide area (possibly in association with war), but seems to have been undergoing continuous development (possibly under external influence) which eventually led to him being seen as the ruler of the gods, possibly in association with a development of a new kind of ruler in Scandinavia (cf. Gunnell 2013, 160; and Rood 2018). As noted, however, there can be no certainly that the Wodan in German place names had the same role or nature.

177 The deeply-rooted role played by the thunder god Donar/Þórr in the pre-Christian Nordic worldviews is underlined by literary accounts, and not least Adam of Bremen’s famous description of worship in Gamla Uppsala from the mid 11th century (see Chapter 5.5.0; and Gunnell 2013, 161-162). The age of this central role is reflected not only by the Nordic, Dutch and English place-name evidence (as well as that from Iceland), but also that from Germany. Nevertheless, as has been noted in Chapter 5.5, the main problem with making firm decisions about the interpretation of place names containing the god Donar in the German-speaking area, is the overlapping of the god’s name and the appellative ‘thunder’, something clearly attested in early Old High German forms. All in all, as this thesis has shown, only I have only considered two Germanic place names containing the name of the god Donar to be “more likely”. As noted above, if they are genuine, the relatively large numbers of Donnersberg- names may have survived throughout the centuries of conversion simply because of the aforementioned congruence of the name of this god and the appellative ‘thunder’. Maybe the early Christian missionaries felt no need to transform these names (see Chapter 4.6). All in all, more research is needed here, not least because of the number of similar names found further north. Something else that was pointed out above (see Chapter 5.6), is that a number of earlier scholars (such as Grimm and de Vries) have suggested that some German place names contain the name of the god Baldr. As this thesis has shown, it is extremely difficult to assess the trustworthiness of these names. None of these names has been labelled as “likely” here, essentially because of their lack of earlier literary and firm scholarly support, and their near complete absence in the Nordic, Dutch and English areas. Returning to the key question of why so few theophoric place names have survived in Germany, as pointed out above, I have reached the general conclusion that this must be essentially the result of external influences and the constant movement of the German tribes south of Denmark, which did not allow long term rooting of cultural heritage in local landscapes (like that further north) in the shape of recognised sacred sites. If we go on to consider future research into the fields of theophoric place names in the German-speaking area, it is evident that there is still a great deal to be done. There are a number of names that have remained fairly untouched in this thesis, partly because of the present lack of historical (or archaeological) evidence for their existence in pre-Christian

178 times. A good example is Donnersberg near Wormeln (Hesse) (see Chapter 5.5.3). The surrounding context of these questionable sites needs more attention. Future research might well take a closer look at the names (past and present) of holy wells, lakes and springs (and the archaeological evidence surrounding them), as there is good reason to believe that these sites had a central role within the pre-Christian world view (not least if we consider Urðarbrunnr and Mímisbrunnr, mentioned in Vǫluspá (Vǫluspá sts 19, 20 and 28: Eddukvæði 2014; also see Brink 2001, 96-98). In later times, throughout Europe, such sites have come to be associated with Christian saints, raising the possibility of a renaming of the landscape like that which seems to have taken place in Ireland (see Chapter 5.2.1.3). A typical example is the legend of St Boniface which tells how after his death in around 755, his body was carried by a funeral procession from Utrecht to Fulda where he was ultimately buried. The legend tells how, where Boniface’s body was laid down, a spring emerged (Willibald of Mainz 1916, 92), something recognised in a number of place names. Historians have nonetheless since questioned these the story of these apparently holy springs, taking the view that the wells where the procession stopped (where wooden chapels were since built) already existed as pre-Christian sacred sites, albeit continuities from pre-Christian to Christian cults of wells are hardly provable (Wimmer 1994, 728-729; cf. Weinhold 1898). The sanctity of watery sites of this kind for those living in pre-Christian Scandinavia or Germany is reflected in material terms by the sacrificial bogs found at Thorsberg, Possendorf and Oberdorla survived until the modern day (cf. Varner 2009, 82-83; see also Gunnell 2019; see also Chapters 5.5.4.4, 5.3.1.3 and 5.3.3.2). Another feature that is worth bearing in mind is that this thesis has concentrated on the evidence of theophoric place names containing the names of pre-Christian deities. No attention has been paid to other place names involving deities and concepts relating more to the field of lower mythology or other sacral place names that simply seem to refer to pagan holy sites (the names of which include no mention of any god). It would be logical for future research to dive into considering place names such as Dreieichenhain in the area of Hesse, which contains contains the term Eiche (‘oak’) compounded to the commonly cultic term Hain (‘grove’), looking not only at the earliest mentions of this place name but also the historical and archaeological context of this site. Other place names that might be worth considering are those compounded with terms known to be associated with pre-Christian holy sites in the Germanic and Nordic area, such as the Old High German wîh.

179 As noted at the start, one of the first ideas for a potential outcome of this project was to see how far south Germanic and Nordic theophoric place names go. The results have shown that while there is no particular “end” to the distribution of these place names, certain areas in Germany evidently appear to have more potential than others. As noted above, this is Thuringia and parts of Hesse, which evidently also deserves more attention. All the same, as has been shown here, all potential place names must be treated with caution. It is nonetheless to be hoped that future scholars will continue attempting to tackle this difficult field of study, and that further research into the theophoric place names of the whole of the German- speaking area will continue to deliver new insights.

180 7 Sources

7.1 Primary Sources

Adam of Bremen. 1917. Hamburgische Kirchengeschichte, 3rd edition. Ed. by Bernhard Schmiedler. In: Scriptores Rerum Germanicarum in Usum Scholarum ex Monumentis Germaniae Historicis. Hannover, Leipzig: Hahnische Buchhandlung.

Adam of Bremen. 1986. Hamburgische Kirchengeschichte: Geschichte der Erzbischöfe von Hamburg. Transl. by J. C. M. Laurent and W. Wattenbach. Ed. by Alexander Heine. Essen, Stuttgart: Phaidon Verlag.

Annales Laurissenses a. 741-788 (Tab. V.). 1826. In: Monumenta Germaniae historica. Scriptores rerum Germanicarum in usum scholarum separatism. Ed. by Societas Aperiendis Fontibus Rerum Germanicarum Medii Aevi. 134-174. Hannover: Hahn.

Annalista Saxo. 2006. Die Reichschronik des Annalista Saxo. In: Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Ed. by Klaus Nass. Hannover: Hahn.

Bedae Venerabilis. 1896. Historiam Ecclesiasticam Gentis Anglorum, Historiam Abbatum, Epistolam ad Ecberctum, una cum Historia abbatum auctore anonymo, ad fidem codicum manuscriptorum denuo recognovit. Ed. by Plummer Charles. Oxford: Henry Frowde Publisher to the University of Oxford.

Beda Venerabilis. 1997. Historia Ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum. (Beda der Ehrwürdige. Kirchengeschichte des englischen Volkes). Ed. and transl. by Günter Spitzbart, vol. 1, 2nd edition. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft.

Benediktsson, Jakob (ed.). 1968. Landnámabók. In: Íslendingabók Landnámabók. (= Íslenzk fornrit I, 2 vols). 3-397. Reykjavík: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag.

Beyer, Heinrich (ed.). 1860. Urkundenbuch zur Geschichte der, jetzt die Preussischen Regierungsbezirke Coblenz und Trier bildenden mittelrheinischen Territorien, vol. 1. Coblenz: in Commission bei J. Hölscher.

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Siebeck, Cornelia. 2017. Erinnerungsorte, Lieux de Mémoire, Version 1.0. In: Docupedia- Zeitgeschichte: http://docupedia.de/zg/Siebeck_erinnerungsorte_v1_de_2017?oldid=126408

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220 Thitmar of Merseburg: The Dresden manuscript of Hist. Germ. univ. 119-1: https://digital.slub-dresden.de/werkansicht/?id=5363&tx_dlf%5Bpointer%5D=5&tx_ dlf%5Bid%5D=122710&tx_dlf%5Bpage%5D=101

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Udolph, Jürgen on Guthmannshausen: https://www.mdr.de/mdr-thueringen/sendungen/ortsname-guthmannshausen-100. html

Wendel, Alfred on Odenbach: https://www.regionalgeschichte.net/pfalz/odenbach/geschichte.html

Zeeb-Lanz on Donnersberg: https://www.rheinpfalz.de/artikel/nils-fragt-woher-kommt-der-name-donnersberg/

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