foreboding.” “Define me the two types.” “They shade into each other; but I will take, as perhaps extremes, the Gascon, and the Breton.” “He proceeded,” says the correspondent, “to sketch the characteristics of the people of Provence, Languedoc, and Gascony, and to contrast them with those of Brittany, middle, and north France, their idiosyncrasies of race, feeling, religion, manners—their diverse aspirations, their antagonisms. For sufficient reasons I pass over his remarks.” A still more striking case of the kind is that of Egypt, a country that for more than 2,000 years has been subject to foreign conquerors, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Turks, and Mamelukes, and the annual influx of many thousand negro slaves, and where, notwithstanding all this, the peasantry, as far as can be judged by a careful examination of the skull, is identical with the population of the Pharaonic period.
This, then, being assumed, that a turbid mixture of different races has a tendency to separate after a time into its constituent elements, and certain originally distinct types to re-appear with their characteristic features, how does this law of population apply to Somersetshire?
It is clear from the repeated allusions to the Welsh in the laws of Ina, King of the West Saxons, that in his kingdom the ancient inhabitants of the country were not exterminated, but reduced to the condition of serfs. Some appear to have been landowners; but in general they must have been the servants of their Saxon lords, for we find the race, as in the case of the negroes in the West Indies, to have been synonymous with the servile class, so that a groom was called a hors-wealh, or horse Welshman, and a maid-servant a wylen, or Welsh-woman. As long as slavery was allowed by the law of the land—that is, during the Anglo-Saxon period, and for two centuries at least after the Conquest—there was probably no very intimate mixture of the two races. The Normans, as, in comparison with the old inhabitants of the country, they were
few in number, cannot have very materially affected them. We have, therefore, to consider what has become of them since—the Saxon master and the Welsh slave. In the Eastern Counties the invaders seem to have overwhelmed the natives, and destroyed or driven them further inland. Here, in Somerset, their language continued to be spoken in the time of Asser, the latter part of the 9th century; for he tells his readers what Selwood and other places with Saxon names were called by the Britons. We may infer from this mention of them that they were still dispersed over these counties, and undoubtedly they still live in our peasantry, and are traceable in the dialect. Now, is there any peculiarity in this which we may seize as diagnostic of British descent? I submit that we have in the West of Somerset and in Devonshire in the pronunciation of the vowels; a much more trustworthy criterion than a mere vocabulary. The British natives learnt the language that their masters spoke, and this is nearly the same as in Wilts, Dorset, Gloucester, Berks, and Hampshire, and seems to have formerly extended into Kent. But they learnt it as the Spaniards learnt Latin: they picked up the words, but pronounced them as they did their own. The accent differs so widely in the West of Somerset and in Devonshire from that of the counties east of them that it is extremely difficult for a native of these latter to understand what our people are talking about, when they are conversing with one another and unconscious of the presence of a stranger.
The river Parret is usually considered to be the boundary of the two dialects, and history records the reason of it. We learn from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, A.D. 658, that “Cenwealh in this year fought against the Welsh at Pen, and put them to flight as far as the Parret.” “Her Kenwealh gefeaht æt Peonnum wiþ Wealas, and hie geflymde oþ Pedridan.” Upon this passage Lappenberg in his “England under the Anglo-Saxon kings” remarks: “The reign of Cenwealh is important on account of the aggrandisement of Wessex. He
defeated in several battles the Britons of Dyvnaint and Cernau [Devon and Cornwall] who had endeavoured to throw off the Saxon yoke, first at Wirtgeornesburh, afterwards, with more important results, at Bradenford [Bradford] on the Avon in Wiltshire, and again at Peonna [the hill of Pen in Somersetshire], where the power of the Britons melted like snow before the sun, and the race of Brut received an incurable wound, when he drove them as far as the Pedrede [the Parret] in A.D. 658.”
The same author in another passage says (vol. i. p. 120): “In the south-west we meet with the powerful territory of Damnonia, the kingdom of Arthur, which bore also the name of ‘West-Wales.’ Damnonia at a later period was limited to Dyvnaint, or Devonshire, by the separation of Cernau or Cornwall. The districts called by the Saxons those of the Sumorsætas, of the Thornsætas [Dorset], and the Wiltsætas were lost to the kings of Dyvnaint at an early period; though for centuries afterwards a large British population maintained itself in those parts among the Saxon settlers, as well as among the Defnsætas, long after the Saxon conquest of Dyvnaint, who for a considerable time preserved to the natives of that shire the appellation of the Welsh kind.”
In corroboration of Lappenberg’s opinion, one in which every antiquary will concur, I may notice in passing that many a farm in West Somerset retains to the present day an old name that can only be explained from the Cornish language. Thus, “Plud farm,” near Stringston, is “Clay farm,” or “Mud farm,” from plud, mire. In a word, the peasantry of West Somerset are Saxonized Britons. Their ancestors submitted to the conquering race, or left their country and emigrated to Brittany, but were not destroyed; and in them and their kinsmen of Cornouailles in France we see the living representatives of the ancient Britons as truly as in Devonshire and Cornwall, in Cumberland, or Wales.
The characteristic feature of their dialect, and the remark
applies of course equally to the Devonian which is identical with it, is the sound of the French u or the German u given to the oo and ou, a sound that only after long practice can be imitated by natives of the more eastern counties. Thus a “roof” is a rüf, “through” is thrü, and “would” is wüd. The county might consequently be divided into a “Langue d’oo” and a “Langue d’ü.”