Part 2

Chislet, however, earlier Cistelet, probably preserves the Roman Casteletum, a small castle or camp. And Cheriton (there are others in other counties) is said to be derived as to its first two syllables from cerasus, cherry, the Romans having introduced this tree about A.D. 60. They also brought the plum—prunes—and so we get our Plumstede for Plumstead, adjoining Woolwich, and Plumford, in Ospringe.

Also where Wick as a termination is not the Scandinavian Wic or Bay, and so a coastal name, it comes from the Latin Vicus, a row of houses, and is the Saxonised form. Thus our West Wickham, Wickhambreux, Sheldwich, and so forth, record how the Saxons adopted but changed the name given by the Romans. McClure suggests that Faversham (Fefres-ham in 811, Febresham in 858, and Faversham in Domesday) may be a survival of the Latin Faber, smith, in the most Latinized part of Kent, and on their chief road. The first part of the word is plainly a genitive case, and there seems to be no similar Saxon designation.

On the Continent, as well as in England, the name Ventum, or Venta, is the Latin for a market or sale place. Venta Silurum, for example, has now as its neighbour Chepstow, _i.e._, Ceapstow, the Market. Having lived for eight years as a boy in Wincheap, outside the walls of Canterbury, it occurs to me that Win may be Ven from Ventum, while cheap gives the Saxon synonym. Its earlier forms are Wencheape, Wyndcheps, and Wincheapfield. Of course, it looks like winemarket, but would the Romans have had one? And, if so, would it not have been within the walls? On the other hand, vineyards—probably first started by the Romans—were not uncommon much later in Kent, several near Maidstone, and one’s estimation of the pleasantness of wine from outdoor grapes is increased by finding in old charters that in some cases tenants were bound to bring to an abbot or a lord of the manor “a bushel of blakenberis.” This would sweeten and colour the English port!

Few, indeed, are the verbal relics of the Romans, though they were here for 400 years. While the earlier Celts have bequeathed to us many words and names, but few works, the Romans left us few words but some mighty works.

Teutonic (Jutish) Names in Kent.

The Romans who had conquered, ruled, and exploited our land for four centuries, departed in A.D. 411, owing to the dire necessity of defending their own land against the Goths from Northern Europe. Already here they had been attacked and pressed southwards by the Picts of the Highlands, aided by the Scots of Ireland. To avoid Pictish conquest the Britons offered land and pay to the English, who up to then had been aiding the Picts.

Who were these English? A long peninsula runs northwards (as few do) from Denmark, and separates the North Sea from the Baltic. Herein, our real home or cradle, dwelt three tribes of the Low German stock, Angles, Jutes, and Saxons, and as to Kent it was the Jutes from Jutland who, under Hengist and Horsa, in A.D. 449, landed at Ebbsfleet in Thanet, as did others in the Isle of Wight, the Islands in both cases forming a great naval and military station, from which the hinterlands of Kent and Hants could be overrun. The later, and larger, seizures of the Saxons were all the southern counties, Essex, Sussex, Middlesex, and Wessex, while the sphere of the Angles spread upwards from what we still call East Anglia. Quarrels with these mercenaries arose as to pay, and the Britons of Kent resolved to fight. Hrofesceastre was too strong, and so southward turned Hengist along the Celtic country by Kits Coty House, and then swooped down on Aylesford and won a battle which meant the winning of England. Horsa fell in the moment of victory, and the flint heap of Horsted preserves his name, and has been held to mark his grave. Kentish landowners fled to France; the British labourers to the vast forest; churches gave no sanctuary, for the heathen Jutes raged most against the clergy.

And so for two centuries the war of dispossession and slaughter went on, until Britain was a land, not of Britons, but of Englishmen (Angles, or Anglo-Saxons, as they are also called), while even of their language, as we have seen, few words lingered. Six years later the shore-castles of Dover, Richborough, and Lympne succumbed. Then, in A.D. 447, another tribe, the Saxons, came for a share in the goodly spoil, overran Anderida, the fortress of the great forest, and “slew all that were herein, nor was there afterwards one Briton left,” at any rate, in Kent. This Saxon, or strictly speaking, Jutish, invasion has given us most of our blood, and the greater part of our tongue, our territorial divisions, most names of places, and those of the days of the week.

Following the conquerors came colonists, and in the Saxon districts of England (and Kent is the most Saxon of all) we find the names, not of individual immigrants, but of families or clans. These family settlements are denoted by the termination _ing_, which was the usual Anglo-Saxon patronymic, corresponding to our later “son” in Johnson, etc. So the sons of Charles Brown, who died in Detling, would in earlier days be called the Brownings—as the progeny of a duck are ducklings, and of a goose goslings. It has been held that when the suffix ham or ton is added it denotes a filial colony or offshoot from the original settlement of the clan. There are between two and three thousand places in England which contain the root “ing,” although some (mainly in the north) come from a Norse and substantive “eng” or “ing” which means meadow. Kemble makes 22 original settlements in Kent, and 29 filial offshoots, whereas the western or northern counties have no original, although, between them, 169 filial settlements.

If we may thus distinguish two classes of place names which survive in Kent, we have the Bobbings at Bobbing, the Hôcings at Hucking, the Harlings at Harling, the Boerlings at Barling, the Berlings at Birling, the Bollings at Bowling, the Garlings at Garlinge, the Hallings at Halling, the Hircelings at Hecklinge, the Horings at Herringe, the Mollings at Mailing, the Wealings at Welling, the Beltings at Beltring, the Cerrings at Charing, the Petlings at Pedling, the Wickings at Witchling, the Bermarings at Barming. In one case, however, an individual is commemorated in a place-name—Hemmings Bay, near Margate, is the scene of the landing of a Danish chieftain in 1009 A. D. There were many Saxons in Thanet under Roman rule (as interments have shown), but few place names are found there of the patronymic kind, the exceptions being Garlinge, Birchington, Halling Court, Osinghelle, Ellington, and Newington—of which some are doubtful. What about Detling? one of my readers may say. I inclined for some time to the meaning deep meadow (as Deptford is the deep fiord or bay), in allusion to its position between the vast forest above and the extensive marshes below; but Mr. McClure will not hear of “ing” a meadow, in the South of England, and one Oxford Professor of Anglo-Saxon writes me as follows: “The evidence for ing ‘meadow,’ south of Lincolnshire is so scanty or dubious that it would require pretty strong evidence to establish its recurrence in Kent place-names.” In that case one must fall back upon a Saxon ancestor, and lately in Maidstone were found both Major D’Aeth and Mr. De’Ath, whose families would be Deathlings in early Saxon days.

Then, of offshoots, we have in Kent the Ælingtons at Allington, the Ellings at Ellington, the Aldings at Aldington, the Eorpings at Orpington, the Bennings at Boddington, the Gillings at Gillingham, the Cennings at Kennington, the Cosings at Cossington, the Dodings at Doddington, the Dœfings at Davington, the Leasings at Lossenham, the Pœfings at Pevington, the Syfings at Sevington, the Wickings at Wickinghurst, the Lodings at Loddington, the Ellings at Ellington, the Bosings at Bossingden (and Bossenden), the Adings at Addington, the Œslings at Ashlingham, and possibly the Beecings at Birchington and Beckenham. As illustrating the westward migration of the Teutonic race we may note, to take one clan, that, starting from Germany, the Hemings name Hemingen in Germany, Hemminghausen in Westphalia, Hemingstadt in Holstein, Heming in Lorraine and in Alsace, Hemington in Northamptonshire and Somerset, and Hemingbrough in Yorks.

It may help some in their enquiry into the origin of place-names if I note that of old, and by Saxon lips, the vowel “e” was pronounced like our “a.” So, in the case of Berfreystone, Berham, Bernefield, Chert, Chertham, Crey, Dertford, Esseherst, Essetlesford, Freningham, Herietsham, Herty, Hertleye, Hese, Mergate, Remmesgate, Reyersh, Smeredenne, and Werehorne—the vowel sound remaining although the vowel was changed when, for example, Hese became our Hayes. And another point is that in the Kentish dialect th (a separate character in Saxon) often becomes d, _e.g._, gardering for gathering, and dare and dem for there and them. This still survives in remote places and aged persons. So Beddersden for Bethersden.

I may here add some instances of what in some cases aids, and in other cases hinders, a knowledge of the origin and meaning of a place-name—that is the very various ways in which the name has been spelled. Generally, the earlier the form the better guide to the meaning. It will be found that spelling was often so vague that even a lawyer in writing an old record or will may spell a name differently in the same document, and in most cases in mediæval times the sound of the word ruled its spelling. Some examples of multiform names in Kent I give here.

Edenbridge.—Edeling-bridge, 1225, Ethonbrigge 1457, Edonbregge 1473, Edinbregg and Edingbregg 1483, Etonbrigge 1499, Etonbreg 1528, Etonbridge 1534, Edulwestbridge 1539, with other forms of which I have not noted the dates, Edelmesbrigge, Pons Edelmi. The bridge element is clear throughout, but it would also seem that the old name of the river Eden was the Edel. Of this there may be evidence which I have not yet come across.

Bethersden in its earliest form is Beatrichesdenne (1194), which, on the analogy of other places, would seem to point to the church being dedicated to a local S. Beatrice; but at the same date, and since, its patron saint was S. Margaret. Possibly an heiress Beatrice held the manor, as Patrixbourne is called, not from the saint of the Church, but from one who held the manor, which in Domesday was simply called Bourne. Later I find Beterisdenne 1389, Betrycheden 1468, Betresden 1535, Beatherisden 1552, and later Beathersden, Beddersden (by Kent dialect change of th into d), and Bethersden.

Charing is Ciorminege in a Saxon charter of 799 A.D., which proved too hard for old English or middle English mouths, so that one finds many later variants, such as Cheerynge 1396, Carings, Cerringes (and Cherinche in Domesday Book 1036), Cherrving (temp. Edw. 3rd), and at last Charing in 1505.

Cuxton, probably derived from a personal name, like Cuckfield in Sussex, is Codestane in Domesday, Coklestone 1472, Cokston 1503, Cokynston 1533, Coxston 1538, Cokestone 1559, and Codstan, Coklestane, Colestane, Cukelstane, and Cookstone in other documents.

Goodneston, near Ash and Wingham, is no doubt Goodwin’s Town, and once had the name of “Godstanstone-les-Elmes, alias Nelmes, near Wingham.” In 1208 it was Gutsieston, but in 1512 had settled down into Godenston, previous variations having been Goldstaneston, Gounceston, Groceston, Gusseton, and Guston.

Saxon or Jutish Suffixes.

In the earliest days of which we have knowledge all Kent was practically either forest or marsh, with a little cornland in Thanet and sheep pastures in Sheppey, and it was plainly on the edges of the forests (Blean and Anderida running right across the county from Whitstable to Cranbrook) that the early settlers from Jutland made their homes. Like pioneer backwoodsmen in Canada and elsewhere, they had first to clear of trees, and then to fence, the spot each family had chosen. For 25 years I have passed annually through the agricultural districts of Belgium, Alsace, Lorraine, and Switzerland (and sometimes France), and two things always strike me—that English agriculturists are not on the whole so thrifty, so tidy, or so hardworking, as their Continental brethren, and that abroad they seem to have neither need nor desire for hedges or other fences. Our colonists in England, however, show in place-names how necessary they thought enclosures to be.

First there is the ubiquitous “_ton_” as a suffix. The sons of Ælla, the Ellings, made their Ellington. Now “ton” means an enclosure, and especially enclosed land with a dwelling thereon. Then it comes to signify the house on the enclosure. In Scotland even now the “toun” is the farmhouse and outbuildings, and in Kent I find in a charter of 1432 a conveyance of “land with all Houses ... called Wattyshagh, formerly called Taune.” Then, as the original house became a nucleus, and a hamlet swelled into a village, and a village into a town, we got our modern sense of the word, which, however, is later than the Norman conquest.

Even earlier than “ton” would be “_field_,” which is not the same as lea or mead, but denotes a patch of felled or cleared land. So we have our Chelsfield, Oakfield, Ifield, Broomfield, Whitfield, Swingfield, Fairfield, Hothfield, Stalisfield, Clexfield, Longfield, Fieldgreen, and Netherfield, in the more forestal part of Kent, while in the list of parishes in the Rochester diocese, where marsh and down prevailed, I find only one parish—Matfield—which suggests old felling of trees. Sometimes, however, there would be attractive glades or _leys_ on the outskirts of the forest, already pastured or cultivated to a certain extent. Hence arose not only place-names, but nick-names (sur-names came much later) of persons who lived or worked therein, such as John of the Horse Ley, John of the Cow Ley, John of the Sheep Ley, John of the Swine Ley, which later became surnames. Isaac Taylor enumerates 22 leys in Central Kent, but one cannot test his figures without knowing what map he used. Hence as place-names our Hartley, Swanley, Langley, Bromley, Oakley or Ockley, Hockley, Bickley, Whitley, Boxley, Mydley, Barley, Brenchley, Elmley, Ripley, Angley, Beverley, Gorseley Wood, Harley, Pluckley, Throwley, Bexley, Leybourne, Shirley, Kelmsley, Ridley, Tudeley, etc.

Then there were, and are, the _Dens_, forty-two of them in Central Kent, says Isaac Taylor; but Mr. Furley, in his _Weald of Kent_, says that the great manor of Aldington alone possessed forty-four dens. It was probably a Celtic word adopted by the Saxons, and designated a wooded valley mostly used for swine pasture. So we have the Ardenne forest in France and Belgium, and elsewhere in England Henley in Arden and the Forest of Arden, which stretched from Gloucestershire to Nottingham. Down to the 17th century the “Court of the Dens” was held at Aldington, near Hythe, to determine pasture rights and wrongs.

One cannot enumerate all the Kentish dens which might be found not only on the map but in old manorial records. In old Tenterden alone there were Pittesden, Igglesden, Strenchden, Godden, Gatesden, Bugglesden, Finchden, Twisden, Lovedene, Haffendene, Brissendene, Haldene, and Little Haldene as manors, of some of which even the names have departed. I find that of the 16 parishes in the rural deanery of West Charing eight end in den and five in hurst, and I think Furley is in error when he says that only 16 extant parishes (as distinct from manors) in Kent end in den. A small original settlement in a den might soon increase in size even in early Saxon times, and so we have several parishes and manors called Denton. Other local place-names which are due to their position in the old forest land are those which end in _hyrst_ or, later, hurst. Hursts and Cherts were the denser parts of the forest, and the word is said to apply specially to wooded high ground. The two words may be originally the same, with the old German Hart (whence the Hartz mountains), as parent. So we have Bredhurst, Goudhurst, Hawkhurst, Hurst Wood near Peckham, Penshurst, Sandhurst, Staplehurst, Chart, and two or three score more.

Another forest name is _Holt_ or Hot—more common in Surrey than in Kent. The German is Holtz, which means both a wood and wood the material. It is also a common prefix or suffix in Iceland. Isaac Taylor gives us only one Holt in his table, for Central Kent at any rate, but we know Knockholt beeches, Birchholt near Smeeth, an Acholt (Oakwood) in each of the manors of Dartford, Wingham, and Monkton, and Hot Wood; while further study is necessary to determine whether from Holt or from Hoath or Hoth (a heath) come Hothfield, Oxenhoath, and Hoath or Hoad near Reculver. “Another common suffix in the neighbourhood of ancient forests,” says Isaac Taylor, “is Hatch—a hitch-gate, Hêche in French.” He gives no example from Kent, but we know our Chartham Hatch, Ivy Hatch, and Mersham Hatch and Snoll Hatch. _Wold_ or Weald, a wood, is not so common as one would expect, but we have Sibertswold and Wymynswold, and Waltham and Waldershare. _Snœd_ is a Saxon word for a piece of wood in 8th century charters, and this survives in Hamersnoth near Romney, Nod Wall near Lydd, Frisnoth near Appledore, Sibersnode in the Hundred of Ham, Snode Hill, Snodehurst, Snodland, and Snodebeam, a manor in Yalding.

Some Common Saxon Elements in Place-Names.

—HAM = Ham means homestead, but—hamm an enclosure or bend in a river, the former being the more common. It is only by early Saxon documents that we can tell which word is meant. Alkham for the first, perhaps the Hundred of Ham for the latter.

—ING, in the middle or end of a name means “sons of.” A final ling is also a patronymic when the name ends in ol or ele. Thus Donnington is the settlement of the sons of Donna, and as Didling or Dudelyng in Sussex (with 13th century forms of Dedling and Dedlinge) was derived from Dyddeling as descendants of Dyddel, this may throw some light on Detling in Kent.

—MERE = lake, or gemæru boundary. Lakes are few in Kent, so Baddlesmere may indicate a boundary, while Mereworth (anciently Marewe) may indicate neither. Mearesflete in Thanet, and Mere, a manor in Rainham, may point to a personal name. Walmer is said to be named from the marshy ground behind the Wall, or old raised beach, which begins by Walmer Castle.

Brōc = a brook, as in the dialects of Kent and Sussex, also low-lying ground, not necessarily with running water. So Brook, and Brookland, and Kidbrook.

Burna = stream. So Bourne, Littlebourne, etc.

Cnoll = hillock (Cnol in Welsh and knöl in Swedish). So Knole, and perhaps Knockholt.

Cop = a top or head, German kopf. Our Copt Point.

Cumb, or comb = a hollow in a hillside, or a narrow valley. So Ulcombe. A word borrowed from the Celtic.

Dell = low ground or valley. Hence Deal.

Ēā = water, river. So Stur-ea, now Sturry, or watery land. So probably Romney, from Ruimea. But ey also is īēg, or ēg = an island. Sceapige, now Isle of Sheppey.

Denu is a valley, and denn a retreat, but these often interchange in early forms with dun, which survives in our downs, and Down, the village.

Ford.—Here we have to distinguish between the Saxon ford (a natural place-name when bridges as yet were few), and fiord, which is purely coastal, and comes from our Norse marauders. Thus Ashford and Deptford come from quite different words.

Grāf, in Saxon, is our grove, so that Ashgrove is pure Saxon, Æsc-graf.

Heall means a hall, or larger house, and may be simply the Latin aula, especially as place-names ending in hall are more frequent near Roman centres. But there is also halk, a corner or angle, which may suit other places. Our several Whitehalls would indicate the former word.

The Saxon HEATH survives unaltered in some cases, and also as Hoath, and perhaps as Hoth in Hothfield.

Hlinc, a slope, accounts for the Linch and Linchfield in Detling, a cultivated slope at the foot of the Downs. More common in Sussex. Golfers will recognise the word.

Hōh = a hough or heel of land, whence our Hundred of Hoo.

Hyrcg is our ridge, and names Eridge, and Colbridge, and Sundridge.

Hyll = our hill, partly names many places, Bosehill, Hinxhill, Maze Hill, Ide Hill, etc.; but I think there are more in Sussex, where Roberts enumerates forty-eight.

Mersc = march—whence Stodmarsh, Burmarsh, Mersham, Westmarsh, Marshton.

Ofer and Ora are difficult to distinguish in use, the former meaning bank or shore and the latter bank of a stream. Bilnor and Oare may come from the former, and Bicknor and Denover (on the Beult) from the latter.

Ell, WIELL, WYLL, as a prefix, becomes our well.

Wudu = wood. So Saltwood is Sautwud in 1230.

Beorg = a hill, dative beorge, is easily confused with Burg = bush, dative byrg, a fortified place, and then a city. From the former we get our modern beogh, ber or barrow; from the latter our prefix Bur, and the suffixes borough, burg, boro, and bury. The first syllable of Bearsted may be either Beorg or Beorc, birch. Canterbury is the burg or fortified city of the Cantwara or Kent-folk.

Hlu = a burial mound, developing later into the suffix low, lane, and lew, may be found in Hadlow, and perhaps in the Hundreds of Ryngelo and Cornilo in the Lathe of Borowart (now S. Augustine’s).

Considering the mainly forestal character of Saxon Kent, it is not strange that many places are named from trees. Thus Ac = oak, appears in Ockholt, Ackhanger, Ockley. Æsc in Ashford, Ashhurst, and several Ashes. Our Nursted was Nutstede earlier. Perhaps to Ac also we may refer Hocker’s Lane in Detling as a prefix to another Saxon word, ofer, a shore or bring, though it may also be but a corruption of Oakham. In numerous place-names, especially those derived from trees, we find this suffix: Oakover (in Derbyshire), Ashover, Haselover, Birchover, commonly shortened into Oaker, Asher, Hasler, and Bircher. So the lane near the oak-tree or oak-wood would be Oakover Lane, Oaker or Ocker Lane, and eventually Hocker’s Lane. With but one cottage in it, I can find no tradition or trace of any personal name from which it might be called.

Apuldor, as for appletree, remains in Appledore; Birce or beorc, perhaps in Bearsted, Birchington (?), Bekehurst.

Box, or byxe (derived from the Latin buxus) names many places, and early forms in Bex, Bix, Bux, are found both as to Boxley and Bexley, as with Boxhill and Bexhill in other counties.

Holegn = holen, adj. of holly, survives in Hollingbourne and Holborough; Per (pear) in Perhamstead; Cherry in Cheriton; Plum in Plumstead; Elm in Elmley, Elmstone, Elmstead, but only the wych-elm was indigenous, and called Wice by the Saxons. Thorn we find in Thornham.

Haga, a Saxon name survives in our Hawthorn, and may help us to understand the meaning of Eythorne, near Dover, and the Hundred of Eyhorne, in which Detling is situated. The early name of Eythorne is Hegythorne, _i.e._, Hawthorn, and the Hundred of Eythorde or Eyhorne (so from 1347 A.D.) might well be the same, and named from the hamlet of Iron Street is Hollingbourne, where Iron is plainly a late corruption of an old word.

The Rev. E. McClure, in his _British Place-Names_, gives (p. 207 _et seqq._) a list of words in old Saxon glossaries, ranging from the 7th to the 9th centuries, which appear in British place-names. I extract those which seem to apply to place-names in Kent.

Bodan = bottom, common in Kent for a narrow valley, _e.g._, East Bottom at Kingsdown, near Walmer.

Hœgu-thorn = hedge-thorn, hawthorn, whence our Eythorne (anciently Hegythe Thorne), Hundred of Eyhorne (Haythorn, temp. Henry III.), and Iron Street, a hamlet in Hollingbourne in that Hundred.

Mapuldur = maple-tree, in our Maplescombe, _i.e._, the bowl-shaped valley where maples abound.

Holegn = holly. Our Hollingbourne, and perhaps Hollandon.