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.”
As given in _Kelly’s Kent Directory_, our Tons and Stones are:
Addington, Aldington, Allington, Barfreston, Bedmonton, Bilsington,
Birchington, Blackmanstone, Bonnington (two), Bossington, Boughton
(four), Brompton, Charlton (two), Cheriton, Chiddingstone, Chilmington,
Chilton, Cliftonville, Cossington, Cozenton, Crofton, Culverstone,
Cuxton, Davington, Denton (two), Doddington, Dumpton, Dunton Green,
Eddington, Ellington, Egerton, Eggerton, Elmstone, Elvington,
Folkestone, Foston Green, Funton, Garrington, Goldstone, Goodnestone
(two), Guston, Hackington, Hampton (two), Hamptons, Holmstone Camp,
Horton (two), Horton Kirby, Hunton, Kenardington, Kennington, Keston,
Kingston or Kingstone, Kippington, Knowlton, Langton Green, Linton,
Littlestone, Liverton Street, Loddington, Lullingstone, Lowton, Luton,
Maidstone, Manston, Milton (two), Milton Regis, Milton Street, Monks
Horton, Monkton, Murston, Nackington, Newington (three), Nonington,
Horton, Orlestone, Orpington, Pevington, Plumpton, Poulton, Preston
(two), Ripton, Salmestone, Scuddington, Seaton, Sevington, Sibton, Stone
(four), Stonebridge (two), Stonebridge Green, Stone Cross (three), Stone
Crouch, Stone Hill, Stone House, Stone Stairs, Stone Street, Stonehill
(two), Sutton (three), Swanton Street, Tankerton, Teston, Thanington,
Tilmanstone, Tottington, Twitton, Ufton, Upton, Wanstone, Weddington,
Wierton Street, Wilderton, Willington Street, Wilmington, Wootton
(three)—147 in all. One may add, for purposes of investigation, Stone,
an old borough in Maidstone.
First, one must endeavour to separate the tons and the stones—the Saxon
settlements or towns and the places named from stones set for boundaries
or for marks where manor courts or motes were held. And this is not
always easy, since mediæval spelling was vague, and in some cases an
original “stone” has become “ton” in later years, or _vice versa_.
Generally, a reference to the earliest forms (where such can be found in
Saxon or Norman, or even Early English documents) will settle the point.
Thus Folkestone is by some identified with the site of the “stone of
inscription on the Gallic sea,” mentioned by Nennius, the Saxon
geographer. It is Folcesstane in the _Saxon Chronicle_, and Falchestan
in Domesday, and therefore no explanation involving ton need be
entertained. Keston, again, is Cystaninga, hence in Saxon charters
between 862 and 966, as being or having a boundary mark stone. It is
Chestan in Domesday. But Chiddingstone should probably lose its final e
and derive from a Saxon patronymic, although a modern and grotesque
suggestion is that the dolmen there was used as a Chiding or judgment
stone by Celtic or Saxon priests. Maidstone, again, should probably be
Maidston, being Medwegston in the _Saxon Chronicle_, and almost
certainly meaning the town on the Medway; although it is fair to say
that an ending in stane is early found. Tilmanstone was earlier
Telmeston, and Elmstone was Elmerston, and the earlier spellings of
Goodnestone are Goodwinston, Gudewynston, and Goodneston.
Stones are much fewer than “tons,” although no doubt the number of such
marks (origin of our milestones) was increased by the Romans. Thus the
place Stone, two miles west of Faversham and on their great main road
Watling Street, is thought to mark the site of their military station of
Durolevo, and thus to be named from the distance mark. We must also note
that stone bridges were practically unknown to the Saxons, except those
the Romans had left, and Stone Cross would not appear as a place-name
until after their conversion, while a stone house, except as the castle
of a Norman noble, would be of quite late date.