Book Review: The Dialects of England by Peter Trudgill

This review originally appeared in Wessex Chronicle Volume 1, Issue 4 (Winter 2000-1)

This book was an important one for Wessex Society. It featured the dialect maps (reproduced above) which helped us to define the boundaries of the Wessex cultural region. In fact, we held back a little. A look at the maps and their accompanying text in the books reveals that Shropshire, Warwickshire and Worcestershire (as well as Cornwall, but let’s not open that particular can of worms again) could also have been included had we been as expansionist as some of our critics claim.

In The Dialects of England, Peter Trudgill surveys the evolution of English dialects and at the same time, offers a rousing defence of them against those who would impose the East Midlands dialect known as “Received Pronunciation” upon the rest of us.

Trudgill identifies the main feature of the South West dialect region as the fact that it pronounces the letter r in words such as “arm” and “car”. The only other area that does this is the small dialect region of Central Lancashire, and there the r-sound is very different, a uvular rather than a rhotic ‘r’. So prevalent is this feature that when mocking Wessex folk, people only have to say “ooh arrr” and the dialect is instantly recognisable. Incidentally, I have a theory that Ford named their supermini the Ka in order to shift more units outside Wessex, hoping that the grockles will walk into a showroom and say “I’d like to buy a cah, please” and end up getting sold a Ka by mistake. But I digress.

Other features of the wessex dialect include: Pronoun Exchange (saying things like “him’s a good hammer”), a feature also shared with parts of Essex; substituting ‘z’ for ‘s’ (e.g. “zeven”) and ‘v’ for ‘f’ (e.g. “varmer”)’; the fact that it uses the third person singular “thee” (Northern dialects use “thou” while elsewhere, the third person singular has disappeared altogether); the use of “do” and “did” in front of a verb (e.g. “I do see”) and the use of the verb form “I be”, “you be” etc. The latter is widely ridiculed, but it actually demonstrates that Wessex English is much purer than Standard English, with its mongrelised “I am”, “you are” and so on

Trudgill also points out a couple of individual dialect words, “maiden” for a young girl (which I hadn’t realised was a Wessex word) and “wops” for a wasp. He doesn’t mention another word for wasp that I remember from my childhood, “jasper”, but I suspect that may just be a Bristol word. There are a couple of other words that are only common to parts of Wessex, “daps” for sneakers (another word I remember from my childhood) and “theirn” for theirs.

In an age when Wessex English is ridiculed rather than praised (one comedian, referring to trip-hop star Tricky’s accent, called Bristol “the only place where even the black people don’t sound cool”) and where everyone is frantically trying to drop their r’s so that they don’t “sound like a yokel”, a book like this one, which stands four-square for linguistic and cultural diversity is a breath of fresh air. So “zay it loud, I be a wurzel and I be proud”!

British Europe

This article originally appeared in Wessex Chronicle Volume 17, Issue 1 (Spring 2016)

Wessex Society’s aims, as set out in our constitution, include “promoting Wessex as a cultural community within an English and European context”.  The English context should be self-explanatory.  The European one comes with the territory; Wessex has been subjected to waves of settlement and conquest from a continent about which it is often ambivalent.  From the declaration of the Reformation Parliament that “this realm of England is an Empire” to Shakespeare’s “precious stone set in the silver sea, which serves it in the office of a wall, or as a moat defensive to a house, against the envy of less happier lands”.  Viewers of BBC2’s Wolf Hall will know just how many aspects of English politics can be played out on a wider stage.  Shakespeare – an English playwright whose plays are mostly set abroad – puts his lines in the mouth of John of Gaunt, an English prince, born in Flanders (at Ghent) and, in his second wife’s right, claimant to the Spanish thrones of Galicia, Castile and León.

Although one might think that nothing could be more English than the Church of England, it was founded by an Italian – Augustine – and revitalised by a Greek – Theodore of Tarsus.  The English gave as good as they got: the Apostle of the West Saxons, Birinus was a Frank, while the Apostle of the Germans was an Englishman, Boniface.  For us, the Saxons are English: it could be said that they are us.  For the Germans, Saxony is an element in the name of three of its regional states and it was the Saxons who went east to settle lands beyond the Elbe.  The word for ‘German’ is saksa in Estonian and saksan in Finnish.  King Alfred’s name is shared with characters as diverse as Alfred Nobel, the Swedish arms magnate, and Alfred Dreyfus, the Jewish French officer falsely accused of espionage.  England has a long history of welcoming political outcasts, from Karl Marx to Napoléon III (who is buried at Farnborough Abbey), but the tide flows both ways, taking many a disgraced sovereign or nobleman to France or the Low Countries.

So here’s a question: how many members of the European Union can claim a constitutional link to England?  The answer may be surprising: 14 out of 28.  The figure is calculated as follows.

1.    States that are, or have been, part of the UK number 2: the republic of Ireland (1801-1922) and the continuing United Kingdom.  The UK for this purpose includes Gibraltar, which is not represented at Westminster but is represented in the European Parliament as part of the ‘South West England’ constituency.  The Channel Islands and the Isle of Man are Crown dependencies, for most purposes outside both the UK and the EU.  The Channel Islands are the last remaining fragment of the Duchy of Normandy; during the Commonwealth period they narrowly avoided incorporation into Hampshire.  They have been part of the diocese of Winchester since 1569, though an acrimonious split in 2014 resulted in the Bishop handing many of his powers up the line to Canterbury.

2.    States that have been part of the British Empire, while not being part of the UK, also number 2: Cyprus (1878-1960) and Malta (1800-1964).  Running total 4.

3.    States whose territory includes territory that at one time was English or British number 4: France (a bloc from Normandy to Aquitaine, begun 1066, the last part lost 1453, also Ponthieu, 1279-1435, Calais, 1347-1558, Dunkirk, 1659-1662, and Corsica, 1794-1796), Germany (Heligoland, 1807-1890), Greece (Ionian Islands, 1809-1864) and Spain (Minorca, 1708-1802).  Running total 8.

4.    States that have shared a monarch with England, Great Britain or the UK, or include territory that has done so, number 6+: Denmark (1013-1042), France (1422-1435, contested by the Valois), Germany (Hanover, 1714-1837), the Netherlands (1689-1702), Spain (whose empire at the time included some or all of Belgium, France, Italy, Luxembourg and the Netherlands, 1554-1558) and Sweden (Scania, then part of Denmark, 1013-1042).  Running total 14.  Norway (1013-1035) would also feature in the list if it were a member of the EU.

Eastern Europe is poorly represented in this list, though English connections through marriage do exist: King Athelstan’s half-sister married the German Emperor Otto I and is buried at Magdeburg, Edgar Atheling’s mother was possibly Hungarian or Russian, and Harold Godwinesson’s daughter married the Grand Prince of Kiev.  Richard II renewed the connection with central Europe, marrying Anne of Bohemia.  One consequence was to forge links between England’s emergent Lollards, strong in mid-Wessex, and Bohemia, where they were known as Hussites.  

Cardinal Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester was Papal Legate for Germany, Hungary and Bohemia and led the struggle against the Hussites.  Beaufort also played a large role in the Hundred Years War, being present at the trial of Joan of Arc.  (He came home with her ring, which only returned to France this year when it was sold at auction to a historical theme park after centuries of English aristocratic ownership.)  Beaufort also served as Dean of Wells, Chancellor of Oxford University and Bishop of Lincoln (the city to which the see of Dorchester-on-Thames was removed in 1072).  And where was he born?  France, as the son of ‘Old John of Gaunt, time-honour’d Lancaster’, by Chaucer’s sister-in-law, and so a cousin of Richard II.  Confused yet?

You might think that Wessex, as close to the continent as it is, would bear some signs of these varied constitutional tie-ups, and you would be right.  The story begins with Cnut, King of Denmark, England and Norway, who died in 1035 and was buried in Winchester Cathedral.  His name appears on the mortuary chests there.  The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records that in 1029, “King Cnut returned home to England”: as good an indication as any of where his primary interests lay.  

Danish Cnut and his Norman wife Emma donate a cross to Winchester's New Minster (from the Liber Vitae of Hyde Abbey)

We have mentioned before King Louis of England, a little-known monarch who occupied London and Winchester in the dying days of King John.  King Philip is another little-known monarch.  The man we know as the Spanish king Philip II married Queen Mary I – ‘Bloody Mary’ – at Winchester Cathedral in 1554.  Why Winchester?  Probably as the nearest large church to Southampton, to which he could swiftly beat a retreat if things turned nasty.  Parliament was greatly concerned that the marriage should be merely personal and not give Philip any claim to the English throne after Mary’s death.  (The Spanish Armada of 1588 was Philip’s bid to enforce a separate claim bequeathed by Mary, Queen of Scots.)  Despite these safeguards, the official line at the time was that a new, joint reign had begun.  Philip and Mary appeared together on the new coinage.  The new Great Seal bore their combined coat-of-arms, which featured the English lion as one supporter and the black imperial eagle as the other, displacing the red dragon of the Tudors.  The citation of Parliamentary statutes began afresh, the year ‘2 Mary’ being followed by  ‘1 & 2 Philip & Mary’.  The rulers were proclaimed jointly as ‘Philip and Mary, by the Grace of God, King and Queen of England and France, Naples, Jerusalem and Ireland, Defenders of the Faith, Princes of Spain and Sicily, Archdukes of Austria, Dukes of Milan, Burgundy and Brabant’.  (Philip did not ascend the Spanish throne until 1556.)  

A Philip & Mary shilling

Some of these titles were just delusional.  England had no territory in France except Calais, which was represented in at least ten English Parliaments at Westminster but which Mary was famously to lose.  The Kingdom of Jerusalem had lost Jerusalem itself in 1187 and its last possessions in 1291.  The Duchy of Burgundy had been taken back by the King of France in 1477.  The claims are worth noting as a demon-stration that history is about editing-in and editing-out, with perspective determining the choices to be made about breadth and depth: to tell us our past, it has to know who ‘we’ are.  Louis and Philip were real English monarchs but, like Edgar Atheling (or Edgar II) in 1066, they don’t appear in our king-lists because history is written by the victors.  And our own Henry VI was crowned Henri II of France in 1431 – by Cardinal Beaufort no less – but thanks to the example of Joan of Arc he doesn’t count either.

We’re equally selective about invasions, William the Bastard’s being often referred to as the last successful one.  In 1688, William of Orange turned up in Brixham with 15,000 Dutch troops and over the next few weeks marched across Wessex to Windsor before being crowned king.  That looks very much like an invasion and very much like success.  To redefine the Norman Conquest as the last successful opposed invasion is one way out: but only because in 1688 the opposition wasn’t coming from those who had invited the Dutch over.  The incumbent king, James II, wasn’t at all in favour of the coup and doubtless would have opposed it if he could.

William of Orange, like Cnut, chose to live and die in England, not in his home country.  George I was the opposite, a thorough-going German and the last ruler of England not to be buried in England, but his family’s English connections went back a long way.  His ancestor Matilda of England was the daughter of Henry II; one of her sons by Henry the Lion, Duke of Saxony and Bavaria, was William of Winchester, born there in 1184.  William, also known as William of Lüneburg, was born during his father’s exile in England.  He remained there when his father returned to Saxony and was raised in the court of Richard I.  (That’s Richard the Lionheart, the king married in Cyprus to a Navarrese who never visited England as queen.)  His dynasty continued to reign in north-west Germany until 1918.  Its impact on English life can be seen in the numerous streets and squares named ‘Brunswick’ or ‘Hanover’.  The last King of Hanover, its George V, was baptised in Berlin by Jane Austen’s brother, the Rev. Henry Thomas Austen, and is buried in St George’s Chapel at Windsor.  The British returned to Hanover in 1945 with an army of occupation, while the USA occupied the south of Germany.  It could not have been otherwise: D-Day was launched with the Americans on the right flank because that was where they had been gathered from the UK’s Atlantic ports and logistically they had to end up on the right flank too.

During the personal union of Great Britain/the UK and Hanover under the first four Georges and William IV, the smaller country could sometimes be the tail wagging the dog.  The Elector of Hanover was so-called because he was one of nine princes called upon to choose the next Holy Roman Emperor (a contest that the Habsburgs hardly ever lost).  He also got to use the title of Arch-Treasurer of the Empire and incorporate a representation of the crown of Charlemagne into his coat-of-arms, something that can be seen in the British royal arms of the time.  The same arms adorn the pediment of the parliament building of Lower Saxony in Hanover.

The royal coat-of-arms (1816-1837 pattern) at the Old Customs House, Bristol.  It includes two mottos in French, two gold lions for Brunswick, a blue lion for Lüneburg, the white horse of Westphalia and, at the very centre, the crown of Charlemagne.  The two gold lions are said to have been granted to the Duke of Brunswick by his father-in-law, the English King Henry II.  The white ‘Saxon’ horse, said to have been the emblem of Widukind, was widely adopted by the British Army for standards and uniforms, signalling loyalty to the Hanoverian rather than the Jacobite cause.

British troops were deployed in the defence of Hanover, while Hanoverian regiments were raised for British service, being known as the King’s German Legion.  Thomas Hardy’s 1889 short story, The Melancholy Hussar of the German Legion, recounts the fate of two soldiers based at Weymouth who are shot for desertion.  One is a native of the Saarland and the other of Alsace.

In The Return of the Native, Hardy created another foreign character to place in South Wessex.  Of Eustacia Vye he writes: Budmouth was her native place, a fashionable seaside resort at that date.  She was the daughter of the bandmaster of a regiment which had been quartered there – a Corfiote by birth…  Where did her dignity come from?  By a latent vein from Alcinous' line, her father hailing from Phaeacia's isle?"  A Corfiote being a native of Corfu, one of the Ionian Islands, he may be assumed to have played in a military band during the time of British rule.  One of the relics of that rule is the Order of St Michael and St George.  It was created as an award for British subjects in the Ionian Islands and in Malta but is today better known as the ‘gong’ given to senior diplomats and civil servants in the UK, ranked in its three grades of Companion (CMG: ‘Call Me God’), Knight Commander (KCMG: ‘Kindly Call Me God’) and Knight Grand Cross (GCMG: ‘God Calls Me God’).

Does this trans-European history still echo today?  The best place to look is in town-twinning arrangements, some of which might be seen as predictable.  Bristol is twinned with Bordeaux, the capital of Aquitaine, and with Hanover.  Bath is twinned with Brunswick.  Several counties are twinned with Norman equivalents: Devon with Calvados, Dorset with Manche, Somerset with Orne, and Hampshire with the whole of Lower Normandy (all three of these départements together).  As Upper and Lower Normandy have just been re-united, will Hampshire now try to speak for all Wessex or see itself alone as the equal of all Normandy?  That will be interesting to watch.  Berkshire and Wiltshire are twinned with the Vienne and Loiret départements in Poitou and central France respectively.  Port towns are easily paired: Plymouth/Brest, Poole/Cherbourg, Southampton/Le Havre, Portsmouth/Caen.  Romsey’s twinning is with Battenberg, the original home of the Mountbatten family.  Winchester’s is with Laon, the former capital of France.  Oxford is twinned with a clutch of university towns.  Wincanton is twinned with the fictional town of Ankh-Morpork in the late Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld – and Swindon with Walt Disney World in Florida.  Magic.

Review: Broadchurch Season 2

This review originally appeared in Wessex Chronicle Volume 16, Issue 1 (Spring 2015)

Broadchurch returned this year for a second series. The first was always going to be a tough act to follow. Critics soon dubbed its sequel ‘Boredchurch’, accusing lead writer Chris Chibnall of implausible plot turns and of repeatedly disregarding legal procedure in the interests of a good story. And yes, there was a lot of legal procedure. The second series picked up where the first left off, murder suspect Joe Miller unexpectedly pleading his innocence in a trial that proceeded to challenge much of what viewers believed to be the case against him.

David Tennant returned as the sickly Scots cop DI Alec Hardy, with Olivia Colman as his sidekick DS Ellie Miller. So too did the sparse, tension-building background music by Icelandic composer Ólafur Arnalds. Alec Hardy’s ex-wife appeared for the first time in series two, her name being Tess Henchard. As it had to be, if he’s the result of Chibnall’s juggling of Donald Farfrae and Alec d’Urberville.

Chibnall seems to have great fun naming his characters, as when his barristers are the white Knight for the prosecution and the black Bishop for the defence. Note too how many Broadchurch locals have traditional rural trades for surnames (Carter, Fisher, Miller, Wright). The Latimers take their name from latimmier, a keeper of records in Latin. Mark Latimer is a plumber, the only one of these trades named from a specifically Latin base. And the vicar – well, what else would a man of the cloth be than the Rev. Coates?

With the trial unfolding as the main theme, there was plenty else building around it, centred on ‘the Sandbrook case’, the unsolved murders tormenting Hardy from his earlier employment with the South Mercia force. This introduced a range of new characters and took Hardy and Miller up and down the M5 and across to Portsmouth in pursuit of the truth.

As before, much of the action was shot at Clevedon in Somerset and Bridport and West Bay in Dorset. To the list of locations last time, which also included Bristol, Portishead, Shepton Mallet, Weston-super-Mare and Yate, series two added Bracknell, Charmouth, Exeter, Lynton, Reading, Weymouth and other Wessex places. The University of Exeter’s Forum Building served as both the Wessex Police Headquarters and the Wessex Crown Court. Hardy (Thomas rather than Alec) would surely have been pleased at such a variety of places, spread right across Wessex and apart from studio scenes shot in Surrey and Yorkshire making few forays beyond it.

There will be a third series but, for those who just can’t wait, Erin Kelly, in collaboration with Chris Chibnall, has already penned a series of eight short stories based around themes from each of the recent episodes

Carol Singing in Wessex

This article originally appeared in Wessex Chronicle volume 13, issue 3 (Autumn 2012)

Carol singing is regarded as one of the most widespread of the winter village traditions, along with Mummers' Plays and Wassailing. It reached a height in the late 18th and early 19th centuries in rural areas, with village quires using a distinct collection of 'their' tunes and words; the vestiges of this tradition remain today in a few areas, such as in Yorkshire around the Sheffield area, and also in a few places in the South West. The Exmoor area of
Somerset and Devon, Padstow in Cornwall, Odcombe in south Somerset, and Durweston in Dorset all have their locally remembered repertoire, sung on a variety of dates during the advent season, or on Christmas Eve itself.

Illustrations are from a family
archive of traditional music from West
Lulworth in Dorset.

Although these carols are regarded as 'local', a fair number of the tunes originated in a different area altogether. Manuscripts from Dorset contain settings from the composer Joseph Key, of Nuneaton, as well as Thomas Shoel of Montacute, Somerset. The quire
at Beaminster Church in Dorset sang the Christmas Anthem, based on Isaac Watts' hymn 'Shepherds rejoice, lift up your eyes' published by William Holmes, of Ideford, Devon, according to a handbill preserved in Beaminster Museum. In Devon a singer at Otterton noted a carol by Mr Tuff, of Charmouth in Dorset in his book, and the Ashburton quire chose an anthem by William Matthews, of Nottingham. The melody of a carol collected by the folk-song collector George Gardiner in Southampton from George Blake in 1906 was first
published by an American composer in 1782, and is also recorded in a collection of carols
from Stratton in Cornwall.

The mainstay of Christmas worship for Christmas Day itself in the parish church would have been a psalm of thanksgiving, an Anthem taken from Luke's gospel telling the
Christmas story, and the only 'Christmas hymn' available to the worshippers in Tate and Brady's New Version of the Psalms (1696), 'While shepherds watched their flocks by night', which, being directly from the Scriptures, was authorised for use in church services. This led to a large number of different tunes being recorded from village manuscripts for this particular piece; many publishers of psalmody would offer a setting of the text with an
appropriate tune, or, if this was not liked, the quire could choose any tune of the correct metre to use. Non-conformist worshippers had a slightly larger selection of texts,
choosing from Wesley 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing', for example, or Isaac Watts' paraphrase of Psalm 98 'Joy to the World', both of which are still popular today.

The majority of carols found in manuscript books would have been sung away from the church or chapel, when, late on Christmas Eve, the quire would 'go the rounds' of the village to greet each household and farm. A lot of carols started with the words 'Awake! Arise!' or similar, and used boisterous, joyful settings more akin to a dance tune. The texts of these
carols can sometimes be traced in publications such as newspapers, monthly magazines etc. but many were probably locally written, or compiled around a couple of wellknown
verses, with others added by the singers themselves, to their taste! Thomas Hardy describes in Under the Greenwood Tree the progress of the quire and band around the village and names the carols they sang, and to whom. A favourable reception is eventually
received at the School House by Fancy Day, the young schoolmistress, and they are turned away by Farmer Shiner, who angrily shouts at them from his window to “Shut up! … a fellow wi' a headache enough to split likes a quiet night.

The carol-singers of today are more likely to be found in the comfort of a local pub, a church carol service, or in the draughty entrance to a supermarket, or in the shopping mall. Their choice of material may be very different, but they have their favourites too, reflecting modern music and more secular concerns. Encourage them when you see them – they are keeping alive a tradition much altered, but with a fascinating history.

When The Seagull Follows The Trawler

This article originally appeared in Wessex Chronicle Volume 16 Issue 1 (Spring 2015)

Wessex has always been proud of her seafaring tradition, one that asserts King Alfred to have founded the Royal Navy, and the names of Sir Francis Drake and Sir Walter Raleigh are known throughout the world. One lesser-known naval innovation from Devon, however, is HMS Seagull (above), built in Devonport in 1937, and subsequently adopted by the town of Christchurch after a “Warship Week” campaign by the National Savings Bank.

She was the first Royal Navy ship to be built entirely without rivets, all joints being welded throughout. As Britain mobilised for war, the advantage that this offered in terms of speed was enormous, and a very important innovation at a time when the fleet needed to be very much bigger than it was.

Given the pennant number N85 initially, which was then changed to J85 (J being the pennant code for a minesweeper), the Seagull was a Halcyon-class minesweeper, one of 21 such ships that served during World War 2 at Dunkirk, in the Mediterranean, and on the Arctic Convoys, which is where the Seagull served as an escort.

She started her career in rough weather trials in Icelandic waters in 1938, and once her hardiness and durability in the cold arctic waters had been established, spent the first two years of the war based at Scapa Flow in the Orkney Islands. In 1941, she joined the Second Escort Group based at Derry, Ireland, from which she joined Arctic Convoy PQ2 from Liverpool to Archangelsk, one of 21 convoys she helped escort.

One of the lowlights of her illustrious naval career came in 1942, when she was involved in the accidental sinking of a Polish submarine, the ORP Jastrząb (Hawk). The allied sub was mistaken for a German craft, and the Seagull, along with the HMS St Albans, bombed her with depth charges, scuttling her and killing five crew members. A court of enquiry found that the Jastrząb had been out of position by over 100 nautical miles, but the Seagull’s commander, Charles Harington Pollock, was nonetheless found guilty of ignoring identification markings.

HMS Seagull escorted her last Arctic Convoy, RA57 from Kola Inlet to Loch Ewe, in March 1944. Subsequently, she formed part of the 1st Minesweeping Flotilla during Operation Neptune; that is, the Normandy landings. Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsay, Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Naval Expeditionary Force, had written in his diary that “There is no doubt that the mine is our greatest obstacle to success”, and so the importance of the minesweepers’ work is hard to overstate. Seagull and seven other Halcyons swept channel 9 into Sword Beach. Between them, their total haul of mines in the three months after D-Day was 10% of the total number of mines swept in all theatres from the beginning of the war up to that point.

Mines continued to plague British waters long after the end of World War 2. Following her valiant service on D-Day and in the period immediately following it, Seagull was given a refit and continued as a survey ship in the waters between Britain and the continent until 1951, when she was returned to Devonport for disposal.