Norton (Northtown), near Faversham, and the Suttons (South-town), on the
edge of the Weald or south of Dartford; and, whatever may be the case
with others, the Milton near Sittingbourne is called Middeltuna in the
_Saxon Chronicle_ and in Domesday, since it was reckoned the central
town of Kent when Watling Street was far the greatest and most
frequented route to be considered, being 42 miles from London and 31
from Dover. Our various Boughtons are “settlements in the wood,” as are
also the Woottons. Monkton and the Prestons were settlements of monks
and of colleges of priests.
The great majority, however, denote the settlement of some Saxon (_i.e._
Jutish) family, such as Seafings or Sevingas at Sevington, the Ælings at
Allington, the Noningas at Nonington, the Cennings at Kennington, and so
forth. We find this Saxon patronymic “ing” in 37 of our Kentish place
names ending in ton, and when we add the ings like Barming (Bamling,
Barmelinge, and Berblinge in Early English documents), Beltring,
Bilting, Birling, Bobbing (Bobing-seata in a Saxon charter of
798—compare Bobbingsworth in Essex), Bramling. Bazing (at the junction
of Kent, Sussex and Surrey), reminds us of Basing and Basingstoke in
Hants and Basingham (in Domesday Book) in Sussex. Charing, Chevening
(although this may be earlier and Celtic), Cooling, Detling, perhaps
Drelingore, Eastling, Etching, Garlinge, Geddinge, Hacklinge, Hailing,
Hawkinge, Hucking, Kemsing, Lidsing (not Lyminge, however), Mailing,
Nullinge, Ospringe, Ottinge, Pedlinge, Postling, Ratling, Rawling,
Reading Street (three), Rowling, Ruckinge, Sandling (two), Selling,
Sellinge, Shelving, Spratling Street, Stelling, Stowting, Weavering
Street, Welling, Witchling, and Yalding; and when to these we add the
“inghams” I have given in a previous article, we might alter Tennyson’s
“Saxon, and Norman, and Dane are we,” into “Mostly Saxon are we as to
our place-names in Kent.” Our two Charltons are of old Ceorletone—the
town of the ceorls or husbandmen. Some “tons” come from personal names
also, _e.g._, Cuxton (compare Cuckfield in Sussex), Cuca and its
diminutive Cucola are found as Anglo-Saxon names, and as Cockstane the
place appears in Domesday, and as Cokelstone in 1472, nearly 400 years
later, with other forms Cockston, Coklestane, Cukelestane, Cookstone,
etc. (all pointing to stone, and not ton, being properly the final
syllable).
There is, however, obviously much to be done before we can know—or even
in some cases guess—as to the origin of some “tons” or “stones.”
Our “Hams.”
In considering the three score and ten, or more, place-names in Kent
which end in _ham_, we are met with the initial difficulty that there
are two Saxon words Ham—home, and Hamm—land drained by dykes, an East
Friesian word, though the far more common Ham is the Teutonic heim,
familiar as a suffix in Germany, which in Picardy becomes hen, and in
Friesland um. Either ton or ham as a suffix after _ing_ denotes where a
Saxon family or clan had settled and made its toun or heim. Thus the
Pæfings made a Pevington in Kent and a Pavingham in Bedfordshire, and
the Aldings an Aldington in Kent and Worcester, and an Aldingham in
Lancashire, the Leasings a Lossingham in Kent and a Lissington in
Lancashire. Such instances do not uphold what some have held—that there
were two words spelled the same, the one meaning home and the other an
enclosure.
As to the Hamm or Haam for marshy ground, it would seem to be found in
Kent as accounting for Ham Ponds, near Sandwich, marshy ground dear to
botanists, and Mersham (A.S. Mersc—marsh) in Romney, and Merston
(Merxton in 74), near Rochester. Ham Green and Ham Street are also
Romney Marsh names. Waterham and Wetham would suggest the same origin,
the latter being in the Rainham marshes and the former, I think, not far
from the Faversham marshes. Dagenham also (as elsewhere) is Decca’s
marsh land. But the ordinary hams, as we may call them, have again to be
subdivided into those which indicate the settlement of a Saxon family;
those which enshrine a personal name; and those which relate to the
environment or situation of the home.
In the first division would came the cases in which ham followed the
patronymic ing, denoting “the sons of.” Thus Gillingham (Gelingham in
Domesday) was the settlement of the Gillings, who are also found at
Gilling in Yorkshire, Gillingham in Norfolk, and Gillingham in Dorset.
The home of the Mottings was at Mottingham, and that of the Leasings at
Lossenham. Our Chilham would not at first sight seem to come in here;
but in a charter of King Wihdraed in 699 it is called “Cilling,” and in
another of 814 “the port which is called Cillincg” (the Stour was then
navigable up to here for small craft), and a manor in Chilham is
Shillingfield, so that a connection with the Gillings may be suggested.
Farningham might seem _prima facie_ to add another to this unexpectedly
small class; but there is no known tribe of Farnings, and the old name
was Fremyngham (again with no tribe name to support it). It has been
suggested that it derives from the A.S. Frem or foreign, and denotes a
settlement of foreigners (possibly Danes) coming from the Thames up the
Darenth valley.
In the second division we might place any hams recording the personal
names of those who founded them. Here Isaac Taylor may err in saying:
“In the Anglo-Saxon charters we frequently find this suffix united with
the names of families—never with those of individuals.” In this he
follows Leo in his _Anglo Saxon Names_. And yet on another page (compare
p. 331 with p. 131) he gives a list of places derived from the names of
individuals. But certainly Godmersham and Rodmersham suggest personal
names, and no one has ascribed any other origin to Harrietsham, which,
even down to the fifteenth century, appears as Heryotesham. In one
probably illiterate will of 1594 it is called “Henry Etisham alias
Harrysam,” the latter being no doubt the vernacular pronunciation. So
surely Meopham is Mepa’s Home. No letter o appeared in the name before
or during the 14th century, when Simon de Mepham was Archbishop of
Canterbury. It is a modern intrusion, left unpronounced. Icelham,
McClure gives as meaning the Home of Icel, like Icelsham in Sussex, thus
contravening the dictum of Taylor and Leo as to personal names. So
Offham, and probably Otham, is said by the learned _Sussex Place-Names_
to be named after King Offa, who had such power and made such great
benefactions to the Church in Sussex and Kent. Finglesham, called
Flenguessa in Domesday and Fengesham in 1206, suggests a person rather
than a family when the common ing is not then found in the name, and so
does Wittersham, especially in its old forms of Westricheshamme and
Witrychesham. Faversham was Febres-ham in 811 (Charters and Rolls), and
Febresham in 858. In Domesday (1086) it appears as Faversham, and as to
this McClure, a great recent authority in Saxon, says: “The first
element is a personal name in the genitive.” As, however, there seems to
be no similar Saxon designation, he suggests a possible survival of the
Latin Faber, _i.e._, Smith, in a thoroughly Latinized part of Kent. But
this pre-supposes that the place was named from a single unnamed
operative. Betsham is obscure, but when we find, also in Kent, Betshurst
and Betteshanger, a personal origin seems likely. As McClure says, our
Luddesdown seems to involve a personal name; he might say the same of
Luddenham.
The third division introduces us to settlements or homes named from
their environment or situation. Thus Higham (Heahhaam in a charter of
770, and Hehham in one of 774), is plainly from the A.S. Heah, whence
our High; and so is Hougham (earlier Hugham), near Dover. Burham is the
fortified place or Burh, found in 1498 as Borowham, in 1511 as
Borougham, and in 1549 in its present form. Homes between Rochester and
Aylesford had to be strong in the days and the place of constant
maraudings and wars. Mersham is the Mersc home in Romney Marsh.
Westerham, of old Ostreham (compare Westenhanger alias Ostringhanger) is
the little white “home in the west” of Kent. Ickham—Ioccham in a charter
of 785, in Andrededa—otherwise Yeckham, is probably the settlement on
the yoke of arable land, from the Saxon measure Yeok. Chartham (Certeham
in Domesday) is the home in the forest, chart and hart being varying
forms of the Teutonic word for forest, the former more common in
England, the latter in Germany. Perhamsted, says McClure, is the
homestead where pears were cultivated. Thornham (though Turnham in
Domesday) is said to derive from Hawthorns, Thynne being Saxon for
thorn, and haegathorn later for hedge-thorn—whence also probably our
Kentish Eythorne (anciently Hegythe Thorne), and Eyhorne (Haythorne in
Plea of Henry III.), as place-names. Weald, Wold, Wald, and Wood (A.S.,
Wudu and Weald), all mean woods, so that we can understand our Wouldham
and Waltham. Lenham must be the settlement of the Len, unless it could
be proved that the river ever had another name, Celtic as it probably
is.
The following is a full list of the “Hams” in Kent according to _Kelly’s
Directory of Kent_, and I have extracted them in the hope that it may
save some trouble to a future writer on our place-names. I am not of the
class of those who say: “Posterity has done nothing for me, so why
should I do anything for posterity?”
Adisham, Alkham, Barham, Bagham, Beckenham, Burham, Bentham, Betsham,
Bayham, Cudham, Cobham, Clapham, Chatham, Chartham, Chilham, Crowdleham,
Crockham, Dagenham, Eltham, Elham, Fawkham, Faversham, Farningham,
Finglesham, Frogham, Godmersham, Gillingham, Ham ponds, Ham Green (two),
Ham Hill, Ham Street, Heverham, Ham, Harrietsham, Hougham, Higham,
Horsham, Ickham, Ightham, Lenham, Luddenham, Lossenham, Meopham,
Mersham, Mongeham, Mottingham, Newnham, Offham, Otham, Otterham, Petham,
Peckham, Rayham, Rainham, Rodmersham, Sydenham, Shoreham, Teynham,
Thornham, Waltham, Waterham, Wetham, Wickham, Wickhambreux, Westerham,
Wrotham, Wingham, Wittersham, Wouldham, Yaldham. Kilburne wrote that
there were 49, but here I enumerate 71, and one might add Perhamsted,
Iselham, Freckenham, Mistelham, and the Hundreds of Kinghamford and
Downhamford, making 77, all of undoubtedly Saxon origin.
Our “Soles,” “Burys,” and “Hithes.”
The word Sole occurs frequently as a Kentish place-name, and is purely
Saxon. Dr. Bosworth’s _Anglo-Saxon Dictionary_ gives Sol as meaning
“soil—dirt—a wallowing place”; while Lewis defines it as “a dirty pond
of standing water.” The Saxon verb is Sylian, “to soil or cover with
mud.” So an old Kentish will has the words “beside the wateringe sole in
trend (_i.e._, the end) of Yckhame streete.” Now, as the chief
industries of the Saxons in Kent were pigs and pots—as now they are
bricks and beer—it is obvious that pigs, especially in clay soil, would
create many wallowing places. So we find Sole Street, near Broadstairs
(now corrupted into Sorvell and so made unmeaning and unintelligible),
another by Cobham, another by Crundale, and another by Selling. We find
also Bradsole (S. Radigund’s near Dover), Buttsole in Eastry, Blacksole
at Wrotham, Maidensole, Longsole Heath by Allington, Thewsole, and
Hangmansole in Romney Marsh, Eastsole, Newsole near Coldred, Esole near
Nonington, Podsole near Headcorn, a Mote-sole Street in Sandwich,
Mudshole by Hawkinge, Barnsole Lane, Gillingham, Capel Sole, Barnsole in
Staple, Westfield Sole in Boxley, Rigsol Road in Otterden, and last, but
not least, Paddisole, or Padsole, at Maidstone.
Our “Burys.”
There are two Anglo-Saxon words which have to be distinguished—Beorh,
like the German Berg, meaning a hill; and Buruh or Byrig, which comes
later into the suffix Bury, which again later comes to be used for a
division of Hundred or simply for a town. In the south of England we
have most of the distinctively Saxon or Jutish Bury, while in the north
we have the Anglian and Norse forms of Burgh, Brough, Borough, more
common. And one must add, as a variant of the same word, Barrow, which
in modern use we confine to a tumulus for the sepulture of a great
warrior or leader. As these British camps were generally on high ground
for observation and for defence, the ideas represented by Beorh and by
Buruh would inevitably intertwine. The British and Saxon camps were no
doubt numerous when we consider the centuries of marauders and invaders
which kept our earliest forefathers in a constant fear. They were
usually round or oblong, whereas the fewer and later camps or forts of
the Romans were rectangular. Surrounded by a deep ditch, the earth of
which was thrown up to make a wall, into them in troublous times were
collected families and flocks, so that the transition of meaning from
the Byrig or fort to the Borough or town was easy. Canterbury, for
example, began as Cantwara-byrig, the fort of the folk of Kent, long
before it developed into its most important borough or city. So, in
another county, Glæstingaberig became Glastonbury.
In Kent we find Farnborough, Frindsbury, Wateringbury, Hildenborough,
Pembury, Cobhambury, Southborough, Oldbury, Bigbury, Glassenbury, two
Hawkenburies, Holborough, Howbury, Scadbury, Goodbury, Eastbury,
Fallburie, Stockbury (where the ditch and bank had been supplemented by
a palisade of stocks, the predecessor of our fathers’ cheveaux de frise
in warlike defence), Binbury, Westborough (in Maidstone above and
defending the Medway), Woodnesbury, Willesborough, Queenborough,
Richborough, Bidborough, Marshborough, Statenborough, Tattlebury,
Downbury, Hockenbury, Dunbury and Tatlingbury—a long list which
predicates long years, or rather centuries, of fighting in defence, as
much as my previous list of forestal names proves how much of Kent was
covered with woods.
Some of these, like Oldbury and Bigbury, are undoubtedly old British
camps or forts; others were adapted, or newly made, by Romans and,
later, by Saxons, while again later still a Norman castle might be
reared on the old strategic spot, as in the case of Thornham Castle,
near me. Flinders Petrie, however, says that “many sites which by their
name of bury suggest a camp or fort are now bare of remains.” So he
writes after examining Downbury Farm, near Pembury, Hockenbury, and
Dunbury, near Staplehurst, Tattlebury near Headcorn, Tatlingbury near
Capel, Perry Hill near Cooling, Pembury, Frindsbury and Wateringbury.
Our Barrows in Kent are mainly small, graves rather than mounds, but we
have the place-names Barrow Green, Barrow Hill near Ashford, and Barrow
Hill by Sellindge.
Our “Hithes.”
Hithe is the Saxon for haven, or place where ships could lie, and Hythe
(Heda in Domesday Book, and Hee in a deed of 1229) was near the edge of
the sea when history begins; but West Hythe, which is now three miles
from the sea, was the old port used by the Romans and by them called
Limene, the harbour. Hence our modern Lympne—Portus Lemanis, in which
the p is a modern addition. I find it Limene in 1291, Lymen in 1396,
Limne in 1475, and Lymne in 1480.
Then, right in the Weald, is the hamlet of Smallhythe, three miles south
of Tenterden. Down to 1509, however, there was a channel from the sea up
to here.
Newheth, or New Hythe, is a hamlet of East Malling—and it was a sort of
port (or perhaps a wharf) on the Medway for shipping goods from South
Kent and the Weald.
On the Thames, below Dartford, is Greenhithe, which has kept both its
name and the justification thereof from the times of the Saxons to the
present day. There the Danish King had an entrenched camp as a winter
station for his soldiers. Here William the Conqueror was stopped by the
men of Kent until he confirmed them in their old Saxon laws and
privileges. From here Sir John Franklin and Captain Crozier sailed in
the Erebus and Terror (in the year and month of my birth) on their last
and fatal voyage to the Pole. Here still the hithe discharges its lime
and chalk, and has an environment and background of green fields and
woods.
Ærrehythe, “the old haven,” known to us as Erith, the landing place for
what was from 1178, when it was founded, the important Abbey of Lesnes,
which still gives its name to the Hundred.
Our “Cold Harbours.”
Perhaps the most common place-name in England is that of Cold Harbour;
though Sutton and Norton may run it close. Over one hundred and seventy
have been enumerated in England, a number which would be brought up to
over two hundred if we added the Caldecots and the Calcotts (we have a
Calcott in Sturry parish) which are names with the same meaning. And yet
in a sense Cold Harbour is not a place-name, for the only parish of that
name was not formed and named until 1842. It is near Dorking. However,
as a name of a manor or a farm it is common. Thus in London (where we
should hardly expect Cold Harbours of the kind found in country places)
there was the Manor of Coldherberghe, of which we know much since 1327.
Situated on the bank of the Thames near London Bridge, its mansion was
tenanted by royal dukes, a bishop, a Lord Mayor, and afterwards became
the Hall of the Watermen’s Company, and at last the City of London
Brewery. The other is in Camberwell, which was one great manor at the
time of the Conquest, but later divided into minor lordships, to two of
which the name of Cold Harbour was given, of which one was Cold
Herbergh, Hachesham (Hatcham now), while the other survives in the well
known Cold Harbour Lane, in Camberwell. In early 19th century maps Cold
Blow Farm was the representative of the old manor (Kent has a Cold Blow
in Bexley). A curious 15th century corruption was Coldabbeye, though
there was never an abbey there. The farm succumbed to suburban expansion
in the 19th century; but Harbour Road, Cold Harbour Lane, and Cold
Harbour Place, tell us of its site.
The Cold Harbours in Kent are thirty in number, while ten are found in
each of the contiguous counties of Surrey and Sussex. They are found at
Addington, Aldington, Aylesford, Barham Downs, Bishopsbourne, Bridge,
Chislehurst, Deptford, Ditton, Eltham, Higham, Hildenborough, Eltham,
Lamberhurst, Lymne, Maidstone, Newington, Northfleet, Penshurst,
Sellinge, Sittingbourne, Stoke-in-Hoo, Sutton-at-Hone, Tenterden,
Trench, Tunbridge, Woodnesborough, Woolwich, Wrotham, and Wye. The
majority of these are upon or near Roman sites, or on the Roman main
roads, a fact to be borne in mind when we come to consider their origin.
For Isaac Taylor says of early travelling: “Where no religious house
existed to receive the traveller he would usually be compelled to
content himself with the shelter of bare walls. The ruins of deserted
Roman villas were no doubt so used, and such places seem commonly to
have borne the name of Cold Harbour. In the neighbourhood of ancient
roads we find no less than seventy, and about a dozen more bearing the
analogous name of Caldecot or ‘cold cot.’” His figures have now been
shown to be very much under the mark. So Forbes and Burmester, in their
_Our Roman Highways_, say: “The appearance of such names is believed to
be a sure indication of the use in comparatively modern times of Roman
buildings for purposes of temporary shelters; and the occasional
discovery of tessellated pavements injured by fires lighted in the
corners of rooms suggests their utilization by wayfarers.”
Not that all would have been villas or private residences. The orderly
and practical Romans on their great military roads had a colonia at each
15 or 20 miles with a mansio or government posting station, and between
each, at about five miles distance, was a mutatio with less
accommodation, and used by a humbler class. The manager of each was
called a Strator—like our Way Warden. In many cases we find that the
Cold Harbours come exactly where we should look for the regularly set
mutatio. The same kind of arrangement is found in the Hans or Khans of
the East, which provide shelter for traveller and stabling for his horse
or other beast of burden; but no bed or food. Analogous also are the
dak-bungalows familiar to us in India.
The name, however, is pure Saxon, like the German Kalt Herberg, and the
surviving French Auberge for a small place of rest and refreshment. Mr.
Unthank, a friend and church-worker of mine in Walworth, enlisted my
interest in the name a dozen years ago, and since he has written
learnedly on the subject in _Notes and Queries_ (1914) and the _Home
Counties Magazine_ (1912). He calls them “the leanest shadows of our
cheerful inns,” and though bare walls and a bit of a roof would be
better than nothing to a traveller over Barham Downs, yet, compared with
the “warmest welcome in an inn” experienced elsewhere, he would no doubt
call it a cold harbour. Later, and in Middle English, the Heribeorg,
shelter for a host, became as Herberg a synonym for any inn, and later
still Harbourers or harbingers were the caterers or victuallers, who at
last gained the right to sell ale in competition with the more normal
hostelries. Then the trade-name became a surname, and John le Herberger
appears, and perhaps the Harpers of to-day indicate an innkeeper rather
than a musician as their ancestor.
Of course, the perverse ingenuity of some has invented strange
derivations for the name. Stow suggests that they were coal-stations!
Another writer (who apparently only knew of one Cold Harbour near London
Bridge) that it was where the Köln or Cologne merchants had their
headquarters! Another derives from Col (ubris) arbor—the tree or staff
round which a serpent twines. This is the emblem of Mercury the
messenger of Jupiter, and may have been therefore the sign of the Roman
posting-stations!
Anderida.
As I have already said, Kent was once mainly either dense primæval
forest, or marshland, which fringed nearly all its coastal border from
Sussex to London. The greater part of the forest was that which extended
along the northern border of the South Saxons with a breadth of thirty
and a length of one hundred and twenty miles. But the royal forest of
Blean (in which I was born) is continuous with Anderida, although it
bears a separate name in a charter of King Offa in 791. This would make
the forestal land extend from Whitstable through East and Mid Kent,
Northern Sussex, Southern Surrey, and Eastern Hampshire, right down to
Petersfield. Distinct, but contiguous, was the Cestmwarowalth or
Cestersetta Wald, of which part remains in the woods between Rochester
and Maidstone, although some would place it near Lyminge.
This primæval forest is still marked by a great survival of woodland and
parks, as a coloured map of Kent would show, and also by the abundance
of the characteristic terminations of burst, den, ley, holt, and feld.
It names the Weald (Teutonic Wad—wood), although therein more cleared
than anywhere else, and the less known Roman road, Well Street, which
ran through it from Maidstone, should be probably the Wald road.
Generally called Anderida from the name the Romans gave to their fort
and garrisoned place near Pevensey, this is only a change from the
earlier Andred. Coed-Andred was its Celtic name, from Coed, a wood,
which word appears also in Ked Coed (the hollow dolman in the wood),
which was corrupted into Kits Coty House; while the Cotswolds give the
Saxon addition to the Celtic name, so that the meaning is Wood-wood,
just as Durbeck or the Ravensbourne mean Water-water by the Saxon
surnaming of a Celtic name. In early Saxon charters, which are written
in Latin, it appears as Saltus-Andred, Silva-Andred, Saltus communis, or
Silva regalis, while in Saxon it is Andred, Andredsleage, or
Andredsweald.
As to the meaning of the name, Edwards thinks it a proper name, which is
very improbable considering its extent. Lambarde says Andred in the
Celtic means great, which is simplest and best, provided that such a
word is proved to exist. Dr. Guest refers it, less probably, to a Celtic
negative an and dred, a dwelling, and Lewin to “an” for the “deni,” for
oak-forest, and by a “dhu” for black.