Cosy is an
inadequate word. It reeks of childish nostalgia and brings to mind snivelling
estate agents trying to fob off inconveniently small living spaces. The word is
often used to translate the Swedish mys
and German gemütlich, yet these words hold a place in the hearts of Swedes and
Krauts incomparable to the lowly position where cosy is regarded by the
English. Cosy is quite nauseating and sentimental because of the way it has
been co-opted by shrewd advertising executives seeking to manipulate consumers’
emotions in order to screw them out of a few quid come Christmas time.
It is this disdain for the concept of cosiness, seeing it as nothing
but a vague feeling of comfort with no clearly defined value, utilised by
shysters and idiots for insignificant purposes, that prevents us from
sympathising with the way in which our Germanic cousins perceive the equivalent
terms.
Gemütlich is ruthlessly dismissed by the
Irish Francophile, Samuel Beckett in Mercier
and Camier where it is used in the dishonest way in which cosy is so
frequently employed.
“It’s snug…said the man, there is no other
word. Patrick! He cried. But there was another word, for he added, in a tone of
tentative complicity, whatever that sounds like, It’s … gemütlich.”
The drunken Mercier later chides the manager of
the inn for using such language, “You have a curious way of managing, for a
manager. What have you done with your teeth? Is this what you call gemütlich?”
Though far from an Englishman, Beckett was
guilty of the English speaker’s prejudice against cosiness. My Swedish
ex-girlfriend stressed to me the importance of mys on many an occasion but it
took time for me to realise that this was not a universally understood concept
and indeed the German regards gemütlich differently from how the Swede thinks
of myset. In an effort to
understand, I volunteered the cosy image of a log fire and learned that
this was indeed considered mys. Yet other concepts of English cosiness
were excluded from the Swedish definition, including for example houses with
carpets, for these are alien to the pine wood floors of a Scandinavian home.
Thus it seems mys is necessarily Swedish as much as gemütlich
must be German in character. The people of these nations perceive these concepts
in terms of the consolation they enjoy when experiencing the familiar and
homely comforts that are proper to their respective peoples. Thus cosiness is
inherently un-cosmopolitan. It is national. It is not universal or properly
translatable, which is why cosy can never express what is truly meant by our
continental cousins. The words mys and gemütlich are each used more frequently
and less self-consciously than English words like snug or cosy. I suspect the
true English equivalent is a satisfied exhalation prior to a leisurely gulp of
ale.
There is a common link in language and feeling between us all though.
Although the word mys is sometimes meant as snuggle and can even
have sexual connotations (you know how Swedes are these days), the Swedish for
brave is modig which is etymologically related to gemütlich
which comes from gemüet “mind, mentality”,
equivalent to gemüt “mind, soul.” Swedish modig
can also mean “valiant, high spirited, courageous”, which is precisely what
the Old English word módig (pronounced moody) used to
mean. We still have a remnant of this word with the modern English mood. So how did brave become moody in England and cosy in Germany? Well, the Old English noun mód could mean mood in general, but was also related to what we now call the
ego or the will. It was associated with arrogance, pride, violence and power
but was also used in other words with very different associations. The adjective
ánmód means “steadfast, fierce, resolute” while módcearig means “sorrowful of heart.” Thus mood was used to describe emotion, mind, heart and will.
Swedish,
English and German are all descended from a common language known as
Proto-Germanic, which in turn comes from Indo-European. The reconstructed
proto-Germanic equivalent of mood is mōdą,
mōdaz “sense, courage, zeal, anger”
and the Proto-Indo-European is mō-, mē- “endeavour, will, temper.” The brave
meaning of mood is retained in other Germanic languages such as Dutch moed and Scots mude, muid, but the Icelandic móður,
meaning “grief, moodiness”, is more
similar to the English word moody.
We
still understand mood to designate distinct atmospheric emotions, yet to be
moody is now exclusively negative. This might have something to do with the Old
English word ofermod which means “pride”
and has therefore been regarded as a sin for centuries.But it's interesting to
consider when one is in a “good mood” that these two words are etymologically
related to words meaning God and soul. Little wonder that gemütlich is so important to the Germans; for mood and atmosphere which put us in touch
with our national past and the associated aesthetics, remind us of our position
in space and time. The familiar and consoling effect of architecture, interior
design, art and old fashioned activities remind us of who we are, speaking to our
“heart, mind, soul” and easing the módcearig
of
the modern age.
