In the magazine Archaeology, November/December 2005, we find the following bit of news in the “World Roundup” section:
Three more of Novgorod's famous birch-bark letters have been discovered during this year's excavation season – two of which contain profanities so rude that the archaeologists are refusing to release them to the public. One of the two twelfth-century artifacts is a fragment of a larger letter, while the other is a note written by a woman to an acquaintance in which she reprimands the man for not repaying a debt to her.
Well, this is a fine how-do-you-do! After waiting 900 years to see the light of day, these poignant missives are being blocked from our view because of some sort of Puritan ethic welling up in a group of archaeologists. Of course, if they're Russian archaeologists, it may be some sort of Orthodox ethic, but you get the idea. Who are they to deprive us of this slice of pre-medieval life?
Of the “fragment of a larger letter”, we can surmise nothing, although intense profanity does suggest a message to the local tax collector. But who cannot be tantalized by the woman who “reprimands the man for not repaying a debt”? Given the sad state of cursing today (as I wrote in earlier piece about the devaluation of the cuss word), our language could stand some imaginative profanity. Imagine curses not heard for 900 years! The excitement of it all leaves me all a-twitter.
Well, that might be a bit strong, but I do think it would be a hoot to read what the woman had to say. I mean, given the kind of thing we hear day in and day out, what sort of profanity could be so “rude” that it would need to be hidden from the eyes of the public?
Hmmm, the British are found of the word “rude”; perhaps we have some uptight stiff-upper-lip Englishmen holding this important missive hostage?
It's not hard to imagine the tone that the woman was using. “Reprimand” is probably way too light a term to describe the literary hissy fit she threw. “Listen, you borscht-bellied son of a cossack. You had better come up with the kopeks you owe me, or I'll have my boy friend Ivan come over there and rip you a new babushka. The don't call him 'the Terrible' for nothing, you slavering slob of a Slav!” I have no trouble picturing this woman searching for just the right bodily functions to use to describe what should happen to this ne'er-do-well debtor.
But the imagination can only go so far; I don't know Russian. Each language has it's own colorful turns of phrase. For example, my late father was multi-lingual, When called upon he could curse in any one of five languages: Hungarian, German, Slovenian, Polish, and English, with a smattering of Russian. When particularly irked, he could use them all at the same time, a veritable United Nations of bad language. Given his mechanical deficiencies, he directed many of these at our lawn mowers, all of which were reduced to junk metal by his tirades – or his mechanical deficiencies.
He use to quote a quaint little Polish phrase to people who annoyed him. He would do this with a smile, so they would think he had said something quite continental. When asked by someone else what he had just said, he replied, “I told him, 'May a fly sh_t in your nose.' ”
I will now pause for a moment while you try to rid your mind of that image.
That, in any event, is a curse of recent vintage, no older than a couple of hundred years. Can you imagine the possibilities of 900 years ago, when people were closer to the earth and muck and farm animals? I mean, think of the possibilities: Yaks could be involved!
Ladies and gentlemen of the archaeological community, I must insist that you not deprive us of such essential knowledge.