A Glossary of Provincial Words & Phrases in use in Somersetshire

In Short

This book is a systematic collection of provincialisms, dialectal terms, and folk vocabulary gathered from the countryside of Somersetshire in the late 19th century. Far more than a simple list, it functions as a linguistic time capsule, documenting a "Langue d'u" distinct from the English of the eastern counties. It has lasted because it serves as an indispensable record for historians and linguists interested in the survival of Celtic and Anglo-Saxon influences within the English language, preserving the voice of a people whose speech was then being eroded by the schoolmaster and the railroad.

The Story

The narrative arc of the work begins with a formal commission by the Somersetshire Archaeological Society. The compiler, Wadham Pigott Williams, receives a foundational manuscript from a local surgeon, Edward Norris, and embarks on a years-long effort to expand this collection. He adopts a rigorous, scholarly approach: he aims to strip away mere affectations of pronunciation to reach the bedrock of archaic usage. He is aided by his colleague, W. A. Jones, and together they synthesize the findings of previous collectors like Jennings and Halliwell, ensuring that every entry reflects the true speech of the county’s peasantry.

The progression of the book is defined by the tension between the "conquering race" and the "subordinate" one. The introduction, penned by Dr. Prior, sets the intellectual stage by arguing that the Somerset dialect is not a corruption of standard English, but rather the living speech of "Saxonized Britons." He posits that the ancient inhabitants were never truly destroyed, but merely reduced to serfdom; their descendants, while adopting the conquerors' language, retained their own ancestral vowel sounds and grammatical structures. The "story" of the book is thus the story of the West Country’s endurance, tracing how linguistic patterns—like the shifting of vowels or the survival of specific Welsh-derived terms—serve as diagnostic markers of a hidden, ancient lineage.

As the reader moves into the glossary itself, the experience shifts from historical theory to the texture of daily life. The entries are not merely definitions; they are snapshots of agricultural labor, social hierarchy, and the domestic sphere. We encounter the "Barton" (farm-yard), the "Drashold" (threshold), and the "Cider-wring" (press). The book concludes as a sprawling map of a lost social topography, documenting the tools, the insults, the weather-lore, and the superstitions of a community defined by its isolation and its unique phonetic landscape. By the final entry, the reader has witnessed the compilation of a collective memory, a final stand against the encroaching uniformity of Victorian England. It is a work that acknowledges its own role as a witness to a culture that, even as the ink dried in 1873, was already slipping into the past.

How It Unfolds

The mandate of preservation The compiler outlines the urgent necessity of gathering these words before the "Printing Press, the Railroad, and the Schoolmaster" finish their work of standardization. He establishes the criteria for inclusion, emphasizing the need for authentic, spoken evidence over written conjecture.

The theory of origins The introduction presents the compelling argument that the dialect is an inheritance from ancient British natives who were colonized but never erased. This section provides the historical framework for the glossary, explaining how a "turbid mixture of races" left behind a distinct linguistic sediment in the West of England.

The phonetic diagnostic The text details the specific vowel shifts—the "Langue d'u" versus the "Langue d'oo"—that set the West apart from the rest of the country. These observations provide a technical basis for understanding why the speech of a Somerset native often proved unintelligible to those from the east.

The exhaustive catalogue The body of the book proceeds as a methodical, alphabetical record of provincial life. Each definition serves as a bridge, connecting modern English to Anglo-Saxon, Latin, or Celtic roots, effectively placing the common laborer’s vocabulary on equal footing with the languages of history.

The People

The book is populated by the ghosts of the Somerset peasantry, though they appear not as individuals, but as a collective entity. At the heart of the text is the "Saxonized Briton," a figure who embodies the survival of an ancient culture. This person is characterized by a "noble countenance" and a resilience that enabled them to persist through centuries of subjugation. They are the speakers of the "Langue d'u," whose linguistic habits—such as substituting an initial 'y' for 'h'—act as an unintentional resistance to the flattening forces of the central government.

Opposing them, in a sense, is the "conquering race," the historical architects of a dominant English language that eventually threatened to dissolve these local identities. Wadham Pigott Williams and his collaborator W. A. Jones act as the intermediaries, the men of the nineteenth-century establishment who, ironically, are forced to become the curators of the very thing their own era is dismantling. Dr. Prior acts as the intellectual guide, the man who insists that if we look closely enough at a man working on a road, we are seeing not just a laborer, but a descendant of the kings of Damnonia. These figures collectively want to classify, record, and understand, standing as the final, respectful guards at the gate of a disappearing world.

In Its Own Voice

The following entries provide a glimpse into the specific, grounded nature of the collection, reflecting both the daily work and the folk wisdom of the region:

A woman, a spaunel, and a bannut tree, / The mooar you bate 'em the better they be.

This piece of traditional folklore accompanies the definition of a "bannut," or walnut tree, highlighting the dry, rustic wit of the rural population.

When fuz is out o' blossom / Kissing's out o' fashin.

This common saying, used to illustrate the word "fuz" (gorse), underscores the deep connection between the natural landscape and the social customs of the people.

What It's Really About

At its core, this volume is an argument for the dignity of local variation. It challenges the assumption that standard, refined English is the only "correct" form, suggesting instead that dialects are vital, historical artifacts. The book grapples with the question of how much of our identity is held in the shape of our vowels and the specific names we give to the tools in our hands. It asks whether a culture can be maintained when its language is categorized as "archaic." By obsessively detailing the "names of our fields" and the "old names of farms," it asserts that our environment is only fully known when we speak of it in the tongue it was originally named in.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in etymology or the history of the English language will find this volume deeply rewarding, as it acts as a primary source for the evolution of regional speech. It is a slow, rhythmic read; the experience is akin to walking through a muddy field in the mid-1800s, turning over stones and discovering the hidden architecture of a forgotten dialect. There is a melancholy beauty in the compiler’s mission, a sense of quiet desperation to pin down a living, breathing language before it evaporates.

However, the reader should be prepared for the book's stark, academic presentation. It is not a narrative in the traditional sense, but a dense, alphabetical list that demands patience. One must also be prepared to encounter the period-specific attitudes of 1873, particularly the colonial-era frameworks used to understand the relationship between the "Saxon" and the "Welsh." The book does not apologize for its context; it simply presents it. If you are the kind of reader who finds joy in the discovery of a "Dumbledore" (not the wizard, but the humble bee) or the realization that a "Barrow-pig" is not a wheelbarrow, you will find this an essential, if dusty, corner of English literature. It leaves you with the haunting awareness that the way we speak is an act of historical survival.