Yenlade or Yenlet.—“Applied by Lewis to the north and south mouths of the estuary of the Wantsum, which made Thanet an island. The A.S. gen-lad means a discharging of a river into the sea, or a smaller river into one larger.” Ladan or hladan means to load or lade. Lambarde wrote in 1570 “Yenlade or yenlet betokeneth an Indraught or Inlett of water into the land.” There are two or three places of this name in the mouth of the Thames. Yantlet Creek is in the Isle of Grain.
Beult.—The final t is not found in the earliest records I have seen, where the name is Beule. One of our best Kent archæologists suggests the Saxon verb Beauland, to turn or twist, as the origin. I think, however, we may go further back and find no exception to the rule that most of our rivers were named by the Celts, for I find the Erse or Irish Buol or Biol for water, and in addition to Continental rivers which contain this root there is the Buil (now called the Boyle) in Ireland, the Beela in Westmorland, and the Beauly in Inverness.
Roman Names in Kent.
The first appearance of Kent in history is in the Gallic War of Julius Cæsar, who paid us the compliment of saying, Ex his omnibus, longe sunt humanissimi qui Cantium incolunt, on which Shakespeare wrote, “Kent in commentaries Cæsar writ, Is termed the civil’st place in all the isle.” Of his presence here, however, the only relic is perhaps more in the realm of legend than of history. There is a mound or barrow at Chilham known as Julaber’s or Juliberry’s grave, which has been referred to Julius Laberius, an officer of Julius Cæsar, slain in a battle here against the British Celts. Julius Cæsar left our shores 54 B.C., and our history is a blank until A.D. 43 (roughly for a hundred years) when the Emperor Claudius came to conquer us, in which campaign Titus took a part, who in A.D. 70 captured Jerusalem—as later some Detling young men entered Jerusalem under General Allenby! Kent and the Thames tribes were first conquered, and in the occupation of Britain from A.D. 43 to A.D. 418 it was the rest of the country which gave military work to the Romans.
Considering this long occupation, ended only by the necessary recall of the troops to defend falling Rome, it is surprising that so few place-names, not only in Kent but anywhere, are attributable to our masters. Those usually instanced are Speen (anciently Spinæ, thorns); Pontefract (the broken bridge); Chester (Castra, a camp), with its later derivations, the Anglian Caster and the Saxon Chester; and Caerleon (Castra Legionum—the camp of the Legions); and of these not one is in Kent. The chief centres of the sparse population, and the natural landmarks of rivers and mountains, preserved the names given earlier by the Celts, while our villages with few exceptions are Scandinavian or Teutonic, otherwise Norse or Saxon. Prof. Green, in his History of the English People, is doubtless right in saying that “only in the great towns were the Britons Romanized. The tribes of the rural districts remained apart, speaking their own tongue and owing some traditional allegiance to their native chiefs.”
Kent had more than its share of the mighty road-making of Rome; more than its share (except in the turbulent northern boundary of England) of Roman military stations; but though the roads remain, forts are only bits of ruins or foundations, and the names have perished or been changed. So, too, in Kent were most of the nine Roman ports put under the jurisdiction of the Comes Littoris Saxonici. In the Antonine Itinerary of the fourth century the route from the Northern Wall in Dumfriesshire to our Richborough has as its last station Londonio (London), Noviomago (site unknown), 10 miles; Vigniacis (? Springhead), 18 miles; Durobrivis (Rochester), 9 miles; Durolevo (? near Sittingbourne), 13 miles; Duroverno (Canterbury), 12 miles; and Rutupis (Richborough), 12 miles. In no case has the Roman name survived, with the exception of the twisted Rutupis, for Lundon-ium is the old name adopted by the Romans. Other routes add Dubris (Dover), 14 miles from Duroverno, and Portus Limanis (Lympne), 16 miles from Dubris. Where we find Street it is, of course, the Saxon form of the Roman Strata Via, i.e., paved road, and so our Kentish Stone Street ran from the fortified port (as it was then, though inland now) of Lympne to Canterbury; and Watling Street (the name still surviving in London and Canterbury) from their other fortified ports of Rutupiæ (Richborough) to Canterbury, London, Stony Stratford, and Chester. But Watling is not Latin, and in the Saxon Chronicle the name is Wæclingastræt. So, too, the Well Street which ran from Maidstone into the Weald—with no definite end—is the road in the Wald, or Weald, forest. We may perhaps add the places ending in “hall” as a relic of the Roman aula. These are more common in Thanet and Romney Marsh than elsewhere, and in both these places Romans had much to do.
The names given to the two Roman fortresses which guarded the Wantsum (then an important water way), Regulbium and Rutupiæ, were hard for Saxon lips, and so were changed into Raculf-cestre, whence Reculvers, and Repta-caester, later Ratesburgh, whence our Richborough. So also the Roman name of Rochester—Durobrevis (the stronghold of the bridges) became in Saxon times, Roribis, then Hrofibrevi. This was shortened into Hrofi, which again was later assumed to be the name of a man, and so Bede (twelve hundred years ago) gives us Hrofes-cæster, whence our Rochester.
Chislet, however, earlier Cistelet, probably preserves the Roman Casteletum, a small castle or camp. And Cheriton (there are others in other counties) is said to be derived as to its first two syllables from cerasus, cherry, the Romans having introduced this tree about A.D. 60. They also brought the plum—prunes—and so we get our Plumstede for Plumstead, adjoining Woolwich, and Plumford, in Ospringe.
Also where Wick as a termination is not the Scandinavian Wic or Bay, and so a coastal name, it comes from the Latin Vicus, a row of houses, and is the Saxonised form. Thus our West Wickham, Wickhambreux, Sheldwich, and so forth, record how the Saxons adopted but changed the name given by the Romans. McClure suggests that Faversham (Fefres-ham in 811, Febresham in 858, and Faversham in Domesday) may be a survival of the Latin Faber, smith, in the most Latinized part of Kent, and on their chief road. The first part of the word is plainly a genitive case, and there seems to be no similar Saxon designation.
On the Continent, as well as in England, the name Ventum, or Venta, is the Latin for a market or sale place. Venta Silurum, for example, has now as its neighbour Chepstow, i.e., Ceapstow, the Market. Having lived for eight years as a boy in Wincheap, outside the walls of Canterbury, it occurs to me that Win may be Ven from Ventum, while cheap gives the Saxon synonym. Its earlier forms are Wencheape, Wyndcheps, and Wincheapfield. Of course, it looks like winemarket, but would the Romans have had one? And, if so, would it not have been within the walls? On the other hand, vineyards—probably first started by the Romans—were not uncommon much later in Kent, several near Maidstone, and one’s estimation of the pleasantness of wine from outdoor grapes is increased by finding in old charters that in some cases tenants were bound to bring to an abbot or a lord of the manor “a bushel of blakenberis.” This would sweeten and colour the English port!