The New Forest: its history and its scenery/Chapter 15

by John Richard de Capel Wise

 

CHAPTER XV.

THE GYPSY AND THE WEST-SAXON.

Many people have a vague notion that the gipsies constitute the most important element of the population of the New Forest, whereas, of course, they are mere cyphers. An amusing enough French author, in a work upon England, has devoted a special chapter to the New Forest, and there paid more attention to the gipsies than any one else, and entirely forgets the West-Saxon, whose impress is indelibly marked, not only in the language, but in the names of every town, village, and field.

As, however, every one takes a romantic interest in these nomads, we must not entirely pass over them. Here and there still linger a few in whose veins run Indian blood, against whom Henry VIII. made bad laws, and Skelton worse rhymes. The principal tribes round Lyndhurst are the Stanleys, the Lees, and Burtons; and near Fordingbridge, the Snells. They live chiefly in the various droves and rides of the Forest, driven from place to place by the policeman, for to this complexion have things come. One of their favourite halting-places is amongst the low woods near Wootton, where a dozen or more brown tents are always fluttering in the wind, and as the night comes on the camp-fires redden the dark fir-stems.

The kingly title formerly held by the Stanleys is now in the possession of the Lees. They all still, to a certain extent, keep up their old dignity, and must by no means be confounded with the strolling outcasts and itinerant beggars who also dwell in the Forest. Their marriages, too, are still observed with strictness, and any man or woman who marries out of the caste, as recently in the case of one of the Lees, who wedded a blacksmith, is instantly disowned. The proverb, too, of honour among thieves is also still kept, and formal meetings are every now and then convened to expel any member who is guilty of cheating his kinsman.

Since the deer have been destroyed in the Forest, life is not to them what it was. They are now content to live upon a stray fowl, or hedgehog, or squirrel, baked whole in a coat of clay, and to gain a livelihood by weaving the heather into mats, and brooms, and beehives.

They are, however, mere wanderers, and have nothing to do with the soil. It is with the West-Saxons that we are most concerned. And in the New Forest he will be found just such another man as his forefather in the days of William the Red, putting the same faith in visions and omens which made the King exclaim, on the morning of his death, upon the news of the monk of Gloucester's dream, "Do you take me for an Englishman?" believing firmly in groaning ash-trees, and oaks which bud on Christmas-eve, and witches who can turn themselves into hares, deeming that the marl which he digs is still red with the blood of his ancient foes the Danes.^[1]

Here, as we have seen in Hampshire, at Calshot, on the borders of the Forest, Cerdic landed. Here he defeated the Britons, and established the kingdom of the West-Saxons. Here the West-Saxon Alfred rallied his countrymen and crowned defeat with victory. Here, too, stood the capital of Wessex, Winchester, in whose cathedral lie the old West-Saxon kings. Here, then, if anywhere, we should expect to find West-Saxon characteristics and a West-Saxon population.

As is well known, after the battle of Hastings, the West-Saxons, with one or two exceptions, succumbed willingly enough to the Conqueror, who lived amongst them; whilst the Northmen across the Humber bid him defiance. Every one must to this day notice the extreme deference, almost amounting to a painful obsequiousness, of the lower classes in the southern, compared with their independent manner in the northern, parts of England. We find, too, mingled, however, with characteristics from other sources, the West-Saxon element not only in the appearance of the long-limbed Forest peasantry, with their narrow head and shoulders, and loose, shambling gait, but also in their slowness of perception. They betray, too, to this hour that worst Teutonic trait of fatalism, observable in all their epitaphs, and in their daily expression, "It was not to be," applied to anything which does not take place. Notwithstanding, too, their apparent servility, an amount of cunningness and craft peeps out, which in a different age compelled the Conqueror to make special laws against assassination.^[2]

Much must be set against these drawbacks. Enslaved to an extent which no modern historian has dared to reveal, and can only be fully conceived by the dreadful story of The Chronicle,—treated as beasts rather than even slaves,—the West-Saxons showed, under the Normans, a spirit of obedience and an adaptability to changed circumstances which are above praise. Let us give the West-Saxon labourer credit for it both then and to this day, that though the most ill-paid and ill-fed in England, he bears his heavy yoke of poverty without a murmur.

Turning to another side of his character, we find him loving the same old sports as in the days of Alfred. He still follows the hounds on foot, and when there were deer in the Forest, naturally killed them. Wrestling and cudgel-playing have been continued till the last few years close to the northern boundaries of the Forest. The old Hock-tide games were till a late period kept up in the northern parts, and "Hock-tide money" was not so very long ago paid as an acknowledgment for certain Forest privileges. Heartiness and roughness still go hand in hand with him as with his forefathers. But a heaviness of intellect is always visible, and, as with all his race, a sadness oppresses his mirth. His dress to this day, too, bespeaks his nationality. He still wears what is locally called the "smicket," and sometimes the "surplice," the Old-English smoc, called also the tunece. It is still, too, as formerly, tied round the waist with a leathern band. His legs are still cased, as we see the Old-English in their drawings, with gaiters, known as "vamplets," or "strogs," equivalent to the "cockers" of the Midland Counties, which do not reach quite so high as the former, and "mokins," which are merely made of coarse sacking.

And now let us see how far he has made his presence felt on the district and in the language. But we must beware of overstraining our theory. No portion of our history is, in its details, so difficult as the English Conquest. None, to any statement which may be made, requires so many qualifications. The first faint flow of the Teutonic immigration was felt long prior to Caesar's invasion—centuries before the main wave burst over the country. We must, too, carefully bear in mind that in Wessex, more than in any other part, the conquerors and conquered were blended together.^[3] They mixed, however, everywhere far more than is commonly allowed. Our language bears testimony to the general fact. The many Keltic household words in daily use are the best evidence.

Here in the New Forest I may mention that the form "plock" is used instead of the common block (bloc), and that we have, as, perhaps, throughout the West of England, "hob," in the sense of potato-hob — a place where potatoes are covered over, instead of "hog" (hwg), noticed by Mr. Davies in his list of Keltic words in Lancashire. Further, we find the terms "more" (maur), for a root, "mulloch," for dirt, and "bowerstone," for a boundary-stone.^[4] Here, too, as in other places, the Britons have left the traces of their rule on the broader natural features of the country—on the rivers, as the Exe (y [g] wysg, the current), and Avon (Afon, the river), and Avon Water, near Setthorns, and Boldre (y Byldwr, the full stream), and Stour ([G]wys-dwr, the deep water), and in the district itself, in the now almost forgotten name of Ytene. We find their influence, too, perhaps, in such local names of villages and fields as Penerley, Denny, Cocketts, Kamel or Cammel Green, and Flasket's Lane. As might be expected, the traces of the Danes are very much less; and I hardly like even to venture on the conjecture that the various "Nashes" along the coast are corruptions of næs. Here, in the Forest, we have no Danish "thorpes" or "bys." There are no Carlbys, as in Lincolnshire and Yorkshire, but plenty of Old-English Charltons, and Charlmoors, and Charlmeads. No Norse "forces" run here, as in the north of England, but only "rides." No "denes" open out to the sea, as in Durham, but only "chines" and "bunnies." No Jutish "ings" are dwelt in, as in Kent, but only "tons" and "leys." Here, in fact, the people of Cerdic have identified themselves with the land, and have left their impress, now unchanged for more than thirteen centuries, on all the towns, and hamlets, and homesteads.

Thus we find on the eastern side of the Forest, formerly in it, Eling, the Mark of the Ealingas, Totton, the Mark of the Totingas; on the south, Lymington and Pennington, the Marks of the Limingas and Penningas; and on the west, Fordingbridge, the Mark of the Fordingas, and Ellingham, that is, Adeling's Hamlet, Adelingeham, in Domesday, where some of the neighbouring woods are to this hour called Adlem's Plantations.

We will not press, as a proof of descent, the number of Old-English surnames, which may easily be collected in the district. We must remember that they were not used, in our modern sense, till long after the Norman Conquest; and when adopted, people were more likely to choose them from English, than from Norman or other sources. Such evidence establishes nothing.

In other ways, however, do we find the Old-English nomenclature telling us the history of the people and the country;—in Hengistbury Head, on the south-west, reminding us of the white horse—the Hengest of the High-German,^[5] and Calshot at the east, spelt as we know in Edward I.'s time, Kalkesore; on the north-west in Charford—the old Cerdices-ford of The Chronicle; on the south in Darrat (Danes-rout) and Danestream, whose waters, the peasant maintains, still run red with the blood of the conquered.

Everywhere we meet similar compounds,—in Needshore, which the Ordnance map spells Needs-oar, and thus loses the etymology, which, like the Needle Rocks, means simply the under (German nieder) shore; in the various Galley Hills, corrupted into Gallows Hills, which have nothing to do with the later but the older instrument, which contained the signal-fires, and are connected with the words "galley," to frighten, and "galleybaggar," a scarecrow, still heard every day, from the Old-English gælan.^[6]

We find the same impress in Lyndhurst, Brockenhurst, Ashurst, and, as we have before said, in various other hursts,^[7] in the different Holmsleys, Netleys,^[8] Beckleys, Bentleys, Bratleys, Stockleys, all from the Old-English leag; in the various tons, as Wootton, Winkton, Everton, Burton, and Hinton; in Gore and Goreley, the muddy places; in Culverley, the dove lea; in the Roydons and Rowdouns, the rough places; in Rhinefield, the hrook field; and in Brockis Hill, the hadger's hill.

Take only the very names of the fields and we shall meet the same element, as in the Wareham field, the fishing place field; Conygers and Coneygar,^[9] the King's ground, to be met in every village; in the linches, as Goreley Linch, that is, Goreley Headland, or literally, the dirty-field headland; in Hangerley, the corner meadow; Hayes, the enclosure, with all its compounds, as Westhayes, Powelhayes, Crithayes, and Felthayes; in such terms as Withy Eyot, that is, Withy Island; and the different Rodfords—"hryðeranford"—the cattleford, the Old-English equivalent to the Norman Bovreford.

We meet, too, in daily life, such words as hayward for the North-Country "pinder;" barton, literally the barley place, instead of the Keltic "croo yard;"—the same Old-English element in the names of the flowers, as bishop-wort (bisceop-wyrt), one of the mints, from which the peasant makes his "hum-water;" cassock (from cassuc), any kind of binding weed, and cammock (from cammec), any of the St. John's worts, or ragworts; clivers (from clife, a bur), the heriff; and wythwind, by which name the convolvulus is still known, the Old-English "wið-winde."

These words, however, belong more especially to the next chapter. To descend from generals to particulars, let us notice some of the verbal characteristics by which a West-Saxon population may be distinguished. As a rule it may be laid down that the West-Saxons give a soft, and the Anglians and Northmen a hard sound to all their words. Thus in the New Forest we find the West-Saxons saying burrow for barrow; haish for harsh; pleu for plough; heth for heath, instead of the "hawth" of the Eastern rapes of Sussex; mash for marsh; Gerge for George; slue for sloe, and again, for slough, the "slow" of the north; bin for been, and also being; justle for jostle, as in Nahum, ch. ii. v. 4; athert for athwart; wool for hole; ballat for ballad, or, as it is pronounced in the more northern counties, ballard; ell for eel; clot and clit for clod; stiffle for stifle; ruff for roof, and so on. Thus, too, we meet here not with Deepdene, but Dibden, spelt in Boazio's map of 1591, Debden. No Chawton, but only Chewton occurs, no Farnham, but only Fernham and Fernhill.

The West-Saxons, too, have a peculiar drawl. So in the New Forest we may hear them saying pearts for parts; stwoane for stone; twereable for terrible; measter (mæster), instead of the Anglian "muster;" and yees instead of the Sussex "yus." As others have also remarked, the West Saxon substitutes a for o. So here we get lard for lord; nat for not; amang for among; knap for knop; shart for short; starm for storm; and Narmanton for Normanton. Not only this, but the West-Saxon in the New Forest substitutes a for e, as in agg for egg, and lag for leg. He not only retains the hard g, but gives a k when he can, as in kiver for cover, and aker for acorn, the "aitchorn" of the Anglian districts. Let us notice, too, that he always changes the f into a v, as vern for fern, vire for fire, evvets for effets, voam for foam, as written by Chaucer, vail for fall, and fitches for vetches, as we find it in Ezekiel, ch. iv. v. 9.

To go further into these distinctions is here impossible. As are the people so is the language. By an analysis of the published glossaries of Dorsetshire, Wiltshire, and Sussex, I find that the New Forest possesses above two-thirds of the two former, differing here and there only in pronunciation, whilst of the latter it scarcely possesses one-tenth, proving plainly that the people are West-Saxons rather than South, descendants of Cerdic more than of Ella.^[10]

Turning from these minor characteristics, and looking at the people themselves as they once were, and as they now stand, much might be added as to the unequal race which the West-Saxon has run with the Anglian and the Northman, and its effect on his character. The most casual observer even, in going over so small a space as the New Forest, must have noticed how Nature has favoured the Northern and Midland counties in their sources of wealth and industry. The great home-trade of the Middle Ages has entirely deserted the South. Once, too, all our men-of-war sailed from what are now small ports on the south coast. Our fleets were manned by crews from the Isle of Wight, and Lymington, and Lyme, and the neighbouring harbours. The seamanship of the West-Country was England's right arm.^[11] But now the ironfields of Staffordshire have put out the furnaces. The coal mines of Durham have destroyed the charcoal trade, and taken away the seamanship. The brine-pits of Cheshire have dried up the salterns which covered the south-western shores. Of course, this loss of material prosperity has told on the intelligence and morals of the district.

In the New Forest itself, till within the last thirty years, smuggling was a recognized calling. Lawlessness was the rule during the last century. Warner says that he had then seen twenty or thirty waggons laden with kegs, guarded by two or three hundred horsemen, each bearing two or three "tubs," coming over Hengistbury Head, making their way, in the open day, past Christchurch to the Forest. At Lymington, a troop of bandits took possession of the well-known Ambrose Cave, on the borders of the Forest, and carried on, not only smuggling, but wholesale burglary. The whole country was plundered. The soldiers were at last called out, the men tracked, and the cave entered. Booty to an enormous extent was found. The captain turned King's evidence, and confessed that he had murdered upwards of thirty people, whose bodies had been thrown down a well, where they were found.^[12]

Such was the state of the New Forest in the last century. But as recently as thirty or forty years ago every labourer was either a poacher or a smuggler, very often a combination of the two. Boats were built from the Forest timber in many a barn; and to this day various fields far inland are still called "the dockyard mead." Crews of Foresters, armed with "swingels," such as the West-Saxons of Somerset fought with in the battle of Sedgemoor, defied the coastguard. The principal "runs" were made at Beckton and Chewton Bunnies, and the Gangway. Often as many as a hundred "tubs," each containing four gallons, and worth two or three guineas, or even more, would be run in a night. Each man would carry two or three of these kegs, one slung in front and two behind; or if the cliff was very steep, a chain of men was formed, and the tubs passed from hand to hand.

All this has been done within the memory of people not so very old. Men were killed at Milton. Old Becton Bunny House was burnt to the ground. A keg was carelessly broached, and the spirit caught fire from the spark of a pipe. Every person was in fact engaged in smuggling:—some for profit, many merely from a love of adventure. Everywhere was understood the smuggler's local proverb, "Keystone under the hearth, keystone under the horse's belly."^[13]

Now nothing either in smuggling or poaching is to any extent attempted. In the one case the crime is unprofitable, in the other the temptation is withdrawn. Labour, too, is more plentiful, and the Government works of draining and planting in the Forest employ most of the Foresters.

Many a man, however, can still tell how he has baited a hook, tied to a bough, with apples to snare the deer; how he has pared the faun's hoof to keep the doe in one place, till he wanted to kill her. But now the deer are all gone, except a few, only seen now and then, wandering about in the wildest and loneliest parts. As to restocking the Forest, we can only say, with good Bishop Hoadley, respecting Waltham Chace,—"the deer have already done enough mischief."

Footnotes

1. I may seem to exaggerate both here and in the next chapter. I wish that I did. For similar cases in the neighbouring counties of Dorset and Sussex let the reader turn to the words "hag-rod," "maiden-tree," and "viary-rings," in Mr. Barnes's Glossary of the Dorset Dialect; and vol. ii. pp. 266, 269, 270, 278, of Mr. Warter's Seaboard and the Down. I hesitate not to say that superstition in some sort or another is universal throughout England. It assumes different forms: in the higher classes, just at present, of spirit-rapping and table-turning, more gross than even those of the lower; and I am afraid really seems constitutional in our English nature.
2. Of the extreme difficulty of classification of race in the New Forest I am well aware. I have, however, taken such typical families as Purkis, Feckham, Watton, &c, whose names are to be met in every part of the Forest, as my guide. Often, too, certain Forest villages, as Burley and Minestead, though far apart, have a strong connection with each other, and a family relationship may be traced in all the cottages. A good paper was read, touching upon the elements of the New Forest population, by Mr. D. Mackintosh, before the Ethnological Society, April 3rd, 1861. Of the Jute element, which we might have expected from Bede's account of the large Jute settlement in the Isle of Wight, I find few traces. Still there are probably more than is generally supposed. See, however, on this point, what Latham says in his Ethnology of the British Isles, pp. 238, 239.
3. See Dr. Guest's paper on "The Early-English Settlements in South Britain," Proceedings of the Archæological Institute, Salisbury volume, 1851, p. 30.
4. This, of course, is not the place to go into so difficult a subject. I need not refer the reader to Mr. Davies's paper in the Philological Society's Transactions, 1855, p. 210, and M. de Haan Hettema's Commentary upon it, 1856, p. 196. On the great value of provincialisms, see what Müller has said in The Science of Language, pp. 49-59. In Appendix I., I have given a list of some of those of the New Forest, which have never before been noticed in any of the published glossaries.
5. In the charter of confirmation of Baldwin de Redvers to the Conventual House of Christchurch, quoted in Dugdale's Monasticon Anglicanum, vol. iii., part i., p. 304, and by Warner, vol. ii.. Appendix, p. 47, it is called Hedenes Buria, which may suggest that the word is only a corruption. I do not for one moment wish to insist on the personal reality of Hengest, but simply to notice the fact of the High-German word for a horse being prominent in the topography of a people whose ancestors used so many High-German words. See Donaldson, Cambridge Essays, 1856, pp. 45-48.
6. On this word see Transactions of the Philological Society, part i., 1858, pp. 123, 124.
7. See ch. iii., p. 33.
8. In the parish of Eling we have Netley Down and Netley Down-field, the Nutlei of Domesday. Upon this word—which we find, also, in the north of Hampshire, in the shape of Nately Scures and Upper Nately (Nataleie in Domesday)—as the equivalent of Natan Leah, the old name of the Upper portion of the New Forest, see Dr. Guest, as before quoted, p. 31.
9. A Keltic derivation has, I am aware, been proposed for this word. It is to be met with under various forms in all parts of the Forest. The Forest termination den (denu) must, however, be put down to this source. See Transactions of the Philological Society, 1855, p. 283.
10. See what Mr. Cooper says with regard to the affinity of the western dialect of Sussex, as distinguished from the eastern, to that of Hampshire, in the preface (p. i.) to his Glossary of Provincialisms in the County of Sussex. For instance, such Romance words as appleterre, gratten, ampery, bonker, common in Sussex, are not to be heard in the Forest; whilst many of the West-Country words, as they are called, used daily in the Forest, as charm (a noise—see next chapter, p 191), moot, stool, vinney, twiddle (to chirp), are, if Mr. Cooper's Glossary is correct, quite unknown in Sussex.
11. It is surprising, in looking over the musters of ships in the reigns of Edward II. and Edward III., to see how few Northern ports are mentioned. The importance, too, of the South-coast ports, which were sometimes summoned by themselves, arose not only from the reasons in the text, but from being close to the country with which we were in a state of chronic warfare. See, too, the State Papers, vol. i., p. 812, 813, where the levies of the fleets in 1545, against D'Annebault, with the names of each vessel and its port, are given; as also p. 827, where the neighbouring coast of Dorset is described as deserted, in consequence of the sailors flocking to the King's service. I think that I have somewhere seen that our sailors were once rated as English, Irish, Scotch, and the "West Country," the latter standing the highest.
12. From an old chap-book, The Hampshire Murderers, with illustrations, without date or publisher's name, but probably written about 1776.
13. That is to say, the smuggled spirits were concealed either below the fireplace or in the stable, just beneath where the horse stood. The expression of "Hampshire and Wiltshire moon-rakers" had its origin in the Wiltshire peasants fishing up the contraband goods at night, brought through the Forest, and hid in the various ponds.