Part 4
“Romney” is probably formed by the addition of the Saxon Ige, By, or Ea—island, to the earlier Celtic Ruim—marsh, and so gives an idea of what the district was before the Romans reclaimed much by building their great Rhee Wall. Certain names in Romney Marsh preserved the same history. Oxeney (still we have the Island and the Hundred of Oxney, containing Wittersham and Stone parishes) is even now insulated by two branches of the Rother, and here, in the ancient and now diverted channel, was found in 1824 an oaken ship buried deep in sand and mud. Its name is said to mean the isle of the fat beeves. On pagan altars discovered there oxen were carved, and still it is a great cattle-raising district. We should look now in vain for the three ferries by which it was once entered. In its centre is Ebony, no doubt originally a sort of island, once called “Ebeney in Oxney,” and in an early document it appears as Hibbene. It has been suggested that the first part of the word is the old Celtic Avon, _i.e._, water or river, and I find that a Saxon charter of 793 A.D. calls the Gloucester Avon by the name of Aben. The third syllable is, of course, the Saxon word for island. Scotney Court, Lydd, and Scotney Castle, Lamberhurst, no doubt preserve the name of the Barons de Scotini, who came from Scotigny in North France, and possessed, in the 12th century, much land, which they held until the reign of Edward the Third, while Scot’s Hall, near Smeeth, was the seat of Knights of that name down to the time of the Armada. But for this history one might have classed Scotney with Oxney and Ebony.
Coming now to Sheppey, still an island, washed on the north by the estuary of the Thames, on the west by that of the Medway, and insulated by the Swale (Saxon Suala), crossed by a railway bridge and two ferries, the Celtic name is said to have been Malata, from Mohlt, a sheep, which the Saxon conquerors translated into Sceap-ige, Sheep Isle. It includes Elmley and Harty, once its little islands, and now peninsulas. An old name for Harty was Hertai, in which we may perhaps find the Saxon Heorat—stag, hart—as in Hartlip and Hartbourne, and ea—island. And Elmley, which island would simply denote the ley or glade in the forest in which elms were frequent, might here be Elm-isle. And another islet was Graven-ea, the grain island, on the opposite side of the Swale, now in the Faversham marshes.
Thanet, the best known and most important island, was in the 5th century separated from the mainland by the Wantsum and the estuary of the Stour, which gave an expanse of water mainly two miles broad, so that vessels from or to London sailed from Reculver to Richborough, and avoided the longer and rougher route round the North Foreland. To guard this sea-way the Romans had placed their forts of Regulbium (Reculver) and Rutupia (Richborough) at its northern and eastern entrance. Now, and for long, by the dwindling of the Stour and the practical extinction of the Wantsum, Thanet is but in name an island. Even writing in 1570, Lambarde calls it a peninsula. It is said that its Celtic name was Rimn—a headland, and that its later Saxon name, Tenet, means a beacon. Solinus, who wrote about A.D. 80, calls it Ad-Tanatos (Thanatos, Greek for Death, because its soil killed snakes even when exported for that purpose!). Nennius, in the 8th century, says Guorthigern handed to Hengist and Horsa the island, “which in their language is called Tenet, but in British speech Ruoihm,” or Ru-oichim. In a charter of 679 it appears as Tenid. The name, says McClure, may involve the Celtic Tann for oaks, as in Glastenec, an early form of Glastonbury, surviving in the English, Tanner, Tanyard, etc. From this root is derived the Breton place-name Tannouet. Tenid is its oldest Saxon form, and the _Saxon Chronicle_ records that in 969 Eadgar ordered Tenetland to be pillaged.
Variations in the Spelling of Place-Names.
In the search for the meaning of a place-name it is necessary to go back as far as possible and discover, if we can, its earliest form. The _Anglo Saxon Chronicle_, and the later Domesday Book of 1086; the gradual blending of Saxon and Norman into the English tongue; and then the invention of printing; all may have had an effect on the pronunciation, and so the spelling, of a word. Also there is the tendency to shorten a long word, as when Pepingeberia becomes Pembury, or Godwinston, through Gusseton, becomes Guston. And before the standardization of spelling which printing to a great extent effected, and in written documents such as charters or wills, the most remarkable variations will occur according to personal varieties of pronunciation. Even now, though every one reads “I am going,” in one county you may hear “I’m a gowin’,” in another “I be gooin’,” in another “I be gwaine,” and so forth, and so one wonders less at the various forms in which a name appears in writing in Saxon, in Norman, or in Early English days.
As a general rule the earliest form will be best and most likely to indicate why a name was given. To illustrate this source, both of information and of error, let me take two Kentish place-names—Westenhanger and Tenterden—giving the dates at which I find the various forms.
Westenhanger.—There is a Teutonic stem hanh which means to hang, with the Anglo-Saxon later forms, Hôn, Hêng, from which we get our place names of hanger, Ongar, etc. A hanger is a wood or copse hanging on the side of a hill, and in Kent we find Betteshanger, Hangherst, and Ackhanger, as well as Westenhanger, concerning which Leland in his Itinerary writes of “Ostinhaungre ... of sum now corruptly called Westenanger.” I find it spelled Ostrynghangre in 1274 and 1291, Westynghangre in 1343, Westingangre in 1346, Ostrynhangre in 1376 and 1381, Estynghangre in 1383, Westynganger in 1385, Ostynhangre in 1409, Ostrynghanger in 1468, Westinganger in 1472, Ostrynhanger in 1478, Westynghanger in 1511, Westhanger in 1519, and Oystenhanger in 1541. The changes of the first syllable illustrate the continuance of the Saxon Wœst and the Norman Ouest until there is the reversion to the Saxon form in our West.
Tenterden, again, has a long list of variants. Probably its Saxon name indicated the place where the Theinwarden, or Thane’s Warden or Guardian, looked after the rights and dues of various other dens where his swine had pannage and his tenants tended them. It is not mentioned in Domesday, as not of sufficient importance or taxability; but in 1190 I find it as Tentwarden, in 1252 as Thendwardenne and Tentwardenn, in 1255 as Tentwardene—this early and probably original form cropping up at intervals for another three hundred years. But in 1259 we get nearer to the extant form, as Tendyrdenn. In 1300 there is Tenterdenne, and in 1311 Tentredenne. From this point I take the spellings from the Archbishop’s register of the institutions of its parish priests, and here the earliest record is Tenterdenne in 1311. Thenceforward Tent’denne and Tant’denn in 1322, Tentrdenn in 1327, Tenterdenne in 1333, Tentwardene in 1342, Tenterdenne in 1346, Tentwardyn in 1390, Tynterden in 1394, Tent’den in 1404, Tenterden (for the first time exactly in its present form) in 1407, Tendirden in 1436, Tentwarden at various dates from 1464 to 1531, Tentreden in 1501 and 1525, Tenterden in 1511, 1523, 1539, and 1546, “Tentwarden alias Tenterden” in 1541, Tynterden in 1546, Tenterden in 1556, Tentwarden in 1560, Tenterden in 1571 and 1615, Tentarden in 1619, Tendarden in 1626, Tentarden in 1627 and 1636. Henceforth it is always Tenterden in the Lambeth Registers. These variations are the more noticeable as all occurring in one office, where one would have expected a settled and continuously adopted form, whereas in such documents as wills the testator, or even the scrivener who wrote the will, would have only the current or the personal idea as to the right spelling of a name.
Elsewhere I have given variations of the places we now know as Edenbridge, Cuxton, Shepherdswell, Bethersden, Eastry, Throwley, etc. One might add the cases of Freondesbyry (Saxon), Frandesberie (Domesday), Frenesbery, and Frendesbury, for our Frindsbury; of Estbarbrenge, Barmyage, Barmling, Barmelinge, and Berblinge, for our Barming; Æpledure (Saxon), Apeldres (Domesday), Apoldre (1381), Apeltre, Appledrau, and Appuldre, for our Appledore; of Pœdlewrtha (Saxon), Pellesorde (Domesday), and Pallesford, for our three Paddlesworths; Hertlepeshille (temp. Edw. II.), Herclepe, Hertelepe, and Harclypp (1534), for our Hartlip; and Ok’olte (_i.e._, Oak Wood), Ocholte, Sud-Acholt, Scottesocholt, and Nokeholde, for our Knockholt. The etymological advantage of going back is seen in the case of Ringwould, which becomes more intelligible when down to the time of Henry 3rd it was known as Ridelinwalde or Rydelynewelde (_i.e._, the settlement of the clan of Ryddeling by the wood), whereas not till 1476 do I find Ringeweld, and Ringewold in 1502.
Ecclesiastical Place-Names.
There are not so many as one would expect considering the importance and power and the possessions of the Church in Kent. Taking some as they occur to me, there are All Hallows, in Sheppey, so named from the dedication of its church to All Saints’. The Latin Sanctus and the Teutonic Helige are the same in meaning. So we have, too, in Lower Halstow the Saxon helige stow—the holy place. In a list of Jack Cade’s Kentish followers, in 1450, the parish of Omi Scor is mentioned, which puzzled me for a moment until I saw it was a contraction for Omnium Sanctorum, All Saints’.
The two Minsters, one in Thanet and one in Sheppey, both of Saxon foundation, are the Latin Monasterium, found later as Moynstre and then as Menstre. Monkton, earlier Moncstun and Monkynton, marks a manor given A.D. 961 by Queen Eadgiva to the monks of the community of Holy Trinity, which afterwards became the greater Christ Church, Canterbury. There are also, for the same reasons, Monks Horton and Monks Hill, by Herne Hill, in Blean. Bishopsbourne, earlier Bishopstone, and Bishopsdenne, denotes an episcopal manor. The old nucleus of Lydd was Bishopswic, and in Domesday Boughton Malherbe appears as Boltone Archiepiscopi. Preston, near Wingham (there is another by Aylesford, and a third near Faversham) is Priest’s Town, and denotes a place where there was a small college of clergy. That near Wingham is recorded in Domesday as Prestetune, and in a fine of Edward II. we have: “Preston next Wengham and Wykham Brewouse.” It belonged to S. Augustine’s Abbey at Canterbury. S. Nicholas at Wade is named from the dedication of the ancient church. At Wade represents the Latin Ad Vadum, at the ford, over the Wantsum, into Thanet, near the existing-bridge at Sarre.
S. Margaret’s Bay and S. Margaret’s at Cliffe retain their Norman dedications. The church originally belonged to S. Martin’s Priory at Dover. Lillechurch House, near Higham, marks the site of the old Priory of Higham. The Hundred of Lesnes (A.S. leswes, pastures) is the district once attached to the Augustinian Abbey (whence the present name of Abbey Wood) founded in 1178 by the Chief Justice and Regent Richard de Lucy.
Of the five parishes named from the river Cray two are named from the patron saints of their churches. S. Mary Cray is, however, called Sentlynge in Domesday Book. S. Paul’s Cray is a misnomer, since the dedication is to S. Paulinus, Bishop of Rochester, and afterwards Archbishop of York. So in a deed of 1291 I find it as Creypaulin, and in a fine of Edward II., 1314, as Paulynescraye. In 1560, however, it appears as Powle’s Crey.
Brenzett, in Romney Marsh, does not suggest in its present form either a Celtic or a Saxon origin; but as its old church was dedicated to S. Eanswith, a popular Saxon Saint, also commemorated in the S. Mary and S. Eanswith of the original church at Folkestone, it has been suggested that Brenzett has been evolved in process of time out of Eanswith. Bresett and Brynsete (1416) are variants of the place-name. There is also the parish of S. Mary in the Marsh hard by. Newchurch, also in the Marsh, is Neucerce in Domesday (1036), but as there is no Norman work in the church, which is of Early English architecture, it is supposed that shortly before Domesday an older church had been pulled down. Then and still it gives its name to the Hundred of Newchurch in the Lathe of Limea or Limowart, which was re-named Shepway in the time of Henry the Third. Also in the Marsh is Dymchurch, earlier Demchurche. But earlier still it is said to have been called simply Dimhus or Dimhof, which would mean in Saxon the dark or hiding place; so that “church” may be a later addition to an old name. Eastchurch, in Sheppey, was, and is, the easternmost church in the island.
Place-Names from Persons.
We have seen how common in Kent are place-names derived from patronymics of the name of a family or clan, such as Kennington, the settlement of the Cennings, but there are others, mainly more modern, which include the name of an individual, who usually would be the lord of the manor. Thus some have imagined that Swingfield, near Dover, is Sweyn’s Field, as if the Saxons would have named a place after their piratical enemy. The older forms, Swonesfelde and Swynefelde, would more naturally point to swine, the keeping of which was the chief pastoral pursuit of the Saxons in the dens and clearings of the forest. Queenborough, or Quinborowe, however (earlier known as Bynnee), was named by Edward the Third (who built a strong fort there) in honour of Queen Philippa in 1368. Rosherville is very recent, being named after Jeremiah Rosher, lord of the manor in the nineteenth century. Sutton Valence was Town Sutton until 1265, when it became part of the possessions of William de Valence, half-brother of Henry the Third.
Boughton Aluph—Bocton Anulphi in a charter of Edward the Second—was the seat in the time of Henry the Seventh of the family of Aloff, to which Wye belonged. Boughton Monchelsea (Bocton Chanesy in the time of Edward the Second) owes its additional name to a Norman noble; and Boughton Malherbe (another Bush-ton, or town in the woods) was given as a manor to the Norman family of Malherbe. Bethersden can be traced back to Norman times as Beatrichesdenne, probably as held by an heiress of that name. So Patrixbourne appears earliest as Bourne until a Patrick held the manor. Capel le Ferne, near Dover, was originally Mauregge; but in 1175 the Capel family owned Capel’s Court in Ivychurch, and had estates in several parts of Kent. In the fifteenth century it was called sometimes S. Mary Marige and sometimes Capelle le farne, and in a deed of 1511 it appears as “Capelferne or S. Mary Merge.”
Shepherdswell, near Dover, has nothing to do with a shepherd or a well; but is an early corruption of Sibertswalt, as it appears in Domesday, _i.e._, the wood of Sibert. The phonetic changes are found in later charters and wills, Sybersysweld in 1474, Sybberdiswold 1484, Shipriswold 1501, Shepswold 1506, and Sheperterswold in 1522. Suabert, or Sieberht, was a great Saxon thane, and granted land in Sturgeth (Sturry) and Bodesham to St. Domneva’s new Minster in Thanet, while in a charter of 814 we read of Selebertineg-lond. Great Chart was originally Selebert’s Chart. Sibbertston (or Selebertston) was a sub-manor in Chilham, and there is still the Hundred of Sebrittenden or Selebertsden in what was the old Lathe of Wye.
Mongeham is probably Monyn’s Home, for the Monins family have been there or near there since the time of Henry the Third, and are there still. Goodneston, commonly called Guston, was no doubt Godwinston, as in the territory of the great Earl Godwin, and we trace its present name through the earlier forms Gounceston, Goceston, Gusseton, to Guston. Another Goodnestone, near Faversham, appears as Gudewynston in 1469 and Goodwinston in 1529. The Breux, of Wickham Breux, is another Norman addition to a Saxon name.
Ebbsfleet, the so important landing place, first of Hengist and then of S. Augustine, has, of course, been explained by ignorant guessers as the place where the sea ebbs! But its earliest name to be traced is Ypwine’s fliot, _i.e._, the creek where some Jute of that name settled. Yp is probably the Eop in Eoppa, which is a common Saxon name, also found as Eobba, so that Eobbe’s fleet easily becomes Ebbsfleet. Upper Hardres may take us to the Norman family which came from Ardres in Picardy, although it is possible to find a common Celtic origin for the name both of the French and the English village in the Celtic Ardd, that is, ploughland. It is Heg Hardres, _i.e._, High Hardies, in early documents.
Horton Kirby was simply Horton until the reign of Edward III., when a Lancashire Kirby married the heiress of the manor and rebuilt the castle. Even in 1377 I find it still called Hortune only. Offham is Offa’s home, and several places, including probably Otham, bear his name. Here this Christian King of Mercia is said to have conquered Edmund of Kent. So Old Romney was earlier Offeton, Effeton, or Affeton. Offa ruled Sussex and Kent, and so we have Offham near Lewes, Offington near Worthing, Offham near Arundel, and Ufton near Tunstall. But the name of Offeton for Old Romney disappears after 1281. Foot’s Cray, and Footbury Hill near there, is named from Godwin Fot the Saxon. Chelsfield is said to record the name of a Saxon Ceol, a shortened form of Ceolmund, or Ceolbald, or Ceolwulf, all of which were common names. Scotney Castle, Lamberhurst, belonged in the 12th century to the Barons de Scoterni, who came from Pontigny, in N. France. They had also Scotney Court, at Lydd.
One may add to these samples of places named from persons, two or three that very probably take us back to mythical personages. Woodnesborough (Wodenesbergh 1465, Wynsbergh 1496), was named by the Jutish conquerors after their god Woden, whom they commemorated among the Teutonic names they bequeathed to our names of the week. There is another Woodnesborough in Wilts, and Wednesbury and Wednesfield in Staffordshire. And we note that the next parish is Eastry. For the name of this very old and important place in Saxon time various derivations have been proposed, but it is more than possible that it is the town of Eástor or Eostre, the goddess of Spring, whose name survived when the conversion of the heathen Saxons gave a new light to the festival in the Spring, which henceforth was to celebrate a greater Resurrection than that merely of the flowers. And possibly a third instance may be found in the name of Aylesford, which is Egelesford in the _Saxon Chronicle_, and Elesford in Domesday. Amongst various possible derivations that of Eigil, the Teutonic hero-archer or demigod, is worthy of consideration, since it is found as naming places elsewhere; for example, Aylesbury, in Buckinghamshire, which in the _Saxon Chronicle_ appears as Ægelesburh.
Absurdities in Derivation.
When a language is not pure, but the result of the intermingling and interaction of several tongues as distinct as Celtic, Saxon and Norman; and when, by the wear and tear of daily use through centuries, place-names have altered in detail of spelling and pronunciation; and when for a long time spelling and reading were arts known but to a small minority of the population, it is plainly inevitable that the original form and real meaning of a place-name should often be difficult to trace. But always in an enquiring mind there was the insistent WHY? which is a characteristic and a glory of man as a reasoning animal, and hence often a meaning was given to a word that is simply a sort of pun, an endeavour to explain a word by what it looks like in current speech or dialect when there was not the knowledge of earlier times and older tongues which elevates mere guessing into the science of etymology.
Some Kentish examples of this source of error may be useful. Thus, when we trace Maidstone back into the earliest records we find that it has nothing to do with either Maid or Stone, but comes through many variations from the Celto-Saxon Medwegston, or town on the Medway. Yet though Lambard knew and quoted this in 1570 he suggested also a meaning of “mighty stone, a name given for the quarry of hard stone there!” So, too, Hasted thinks Loose is so called because the stream loses itself underground (like the Mole in Surrey) for some eight hundred yards at Brishing! He might as well have ascribed the name to Loose and Detling having been long only Chapelries of Maidstone, but at last having been cut loose and made into separate parishes in Elizabethan times!
Tenterden is named, says an old Kentish writer, as “some vulgar fancies conjecture, from the tenderness of its soil”; Feversham, says another old Kentish writer, Phillipott, useful as an historian, useless to etymologists, “is an unhealthy town, and carries the tokens of it in its name.” _Id. est._, the home of fevers! Harbledown, says Black, is so-called “in allusion to its grassy downs and hills,” as if grassiness were not a characteristic of any and every down and hill in Kent. Gadshill, we are solemnly told, is named from “gads,” clubs used by footpads who were not unknown there (or anywhere else) on Watling Street. We should smile less if the name was Padshill.
And one of the most ancient, and indeed prehistoric, names in Kent is Penypot, a hill opposite Chilham. “Here once,” one old rustic would say, “they dug up a pot full of pennies.” “Nay,” another would respond, “it was where they used to sell ale for a penny a pot in the good old days!” To such vile meanings may descend the venerable Celtic Pen y wlh—the Head of the Mound.
One of the earliest Roman geographers heard of Thanet under its earliest name of Tanet, and because he knew a Greek word Thanatos, which means death, he so interpreted Thanet. On this absurdity he based a baseless legend which Lambarde in 1570 thus describes: “There be no snakes in Tanet (saith he), and the earth that is brought from thence will kill them.” (Why death to snakes any more than to sheep or shepherds? Why not go further and make Thanatos a lifeless place like the Dead Sea?) “But whether he wrote this of any sure understanding that he had of the quality of the soil, or only by conjecture at the woord Thanatos, which in Greeke signifieth death, I wote not.” This is as strong an example of conjectural derivation, with nothing but a superficial resemblance to support it, as we could find. But Lambarde himself, great as he is in many ways, gives derivations almost as baseless, _e.g._, Blackheath, “called of the colour of the soil!” Wrotham, “given for the great plentie of woorts or good hearbs that growe there.” Farley, “interpreted the place of the Boares, or Bulles” (which? and why?). Sittingbourne, “one interprets it Seethingbourne, Rivus Fervens aut Hulliens” (_i.e._, the boiling or bubbling river—in that flat country!). This is too much even for him and his times, and so he adds, “but how likely let others see.”
Our “Tons” and “Stones.”