Andred

Looking for the Witchmother in Sussex (Part 2/4)

Part 1 - Dame Dark can be read here

“Before the Roman Conquest, much of Sussex was covered by forest […] The ancient Britons called this forest Coed Andred. The Romans knew it as Silva Anderida. The Saxons called it Andredsweald or Andreds-lea. Part of the New Forest is still called “Andret” in the Domesday Book. Some writers have thought this name originally meant “The Black Forest”. Others again have taken it to mean “The Forest Where Nobody Dwells”. Still others, however, believe it was called so because it was sacred to a goddess called Andred.”

The above quotation is taken from Doreen Valiente’s seminal Where Witchcraft Lives which documents her experiences living in Sussex as a practicing witch and is set against the varied backdrop of Sussex’s mystical and mysterious history and folklore. Valiente was, by all accounts, a great believer in the survival of the ‘witch-cult’ and was greatly inspired the work of Margaret Murray, much maligned in subsequent decades. She was also a formidable magical practitioner, having been an active participant, spokesperson and foundational presence for the Craft in the height of the witchcraft revival as well as a member of both Gerald Gardner and Robert Cochrane’s magical working groups. According to Valiente, the Runes of Andred that she published in Witchcraft for Tomorrow, were received from a coven in Sussex. We might be inclined to take some of her assertions, a few of which are indeed made without documented citation, with a pinch of salt. Is there, however, something more to her assertions regarding Andred? I believe that there might be.

In this second section of my four-part musing, I will be trying to identify some of the clues that could have been left by the earliest inhabitants of the region of Sussex. Sussex gains it’s name, of course, from it’s occupation by the Saxons from the 6th century AD, subsequently becoming known as Sūþseaxna rīce (or Kingdom of the South Saxons) under the Anglo-Saxon Heptarchy. I will be tracing the Saxon and varied Germanic influences upon the region, however, in my next piece. In this one, I will attempt to draw links between what we know about the pre-Saxon Celto-British culture of the region, and find what parallels I can between what is extant in the Brythonic cultures that still exist in the British Isles, especially where parallels can be drawn culturally and linguistically with Cornwall, Wales, Scotland, Ireland and the Isle of Man (each of which lay claim to surviving Brythonic languages as a part of their cultural heritage).

Let’s begin by examining the nomenclature of the Forest of Andred, and whether there are any possibilities that a pre-Christian figure called Andred could have ever existed. Both of Valiente’s potential academic definitions have been posited from what I can discern: In William Smith’s 1854 Dictionary of Greek & Roman Geography, he cites that “The name is British; ‘antred’ meaning ‘uninhabited’, and the form in full being Coed Andred, the uninhabited wood.” Equally, in Robert Furley’s article for the Archaeologia Cantiana, the Kent Archeological Society publication in 1882, there are a series of further potentials:

“The name Andred was given to it, according to Lambarde, from its vast extent; Andred is in British "great or wonderful." One of our modern writers, Dr. Guest, says its signifies "the uninhabited district," from "an," the Celtic negative particle, and "tred," a dwelling; another modern writer (the late Mr. Lewin) says Anderida signifies "the black forest," from "an," the, "dern," oak forest, and "dy," black; while a third (Mr. Edmunds) says Andred is often met with as an owner's name. All this shows what little dependence is to be placed on nomenclature.”

Add to this list of possibilities the most current academic assertions: Wilson’s A Guide to the Roman Remains in Britain (1975) and Jackson’s On Some Romano-British Place Names (1948) and the conclusion seems to be a variation yet again. In both instances, the name Anderida, both applied to the forest itself and a shore-fort near it by the Romans, appears to be a Latinisation of the Proto-Celtic *ande- (an intensive prefix) and the Brythonic element *ritu- which means ford or course. Coming together, we then have yet another potential - ‘Great Ford’.

At this point, we might be tempted to take Furley at his word that all that’s being demonstrated is “what little dependence is to be placed on nomenclature.” But as I continued digging, a few facts jumped out to me that connected this puzzle not only to the assertion that Valiente makes, but also to the topic of my last post’s discussion in my research surrounding Dame Dark.

In one of the few Proto-Celtic lexicons I could find online, I noticed that the assertion that *ande- is an intensive prefix appears to be slightly confused. Now I will happily admit that I am by no means an expert on the Celtic languages nor their reconstructed root language, but if I am to take the University of Wales researchers at face value, the intensive prefix is *ana-. *Ande- does feature but as a prefix that means against (or a negative). What seems most interesting to me, though, is that another compound word-feature might suggest that Valiente was onto something: *Anderā- which means young woman or more poetically maiden. Here, *Anderā- and *ritu- come together to create a potential combined meaning of ‘Young woman of the Ford’ or ‘Maiden of the Ford.’ Andred is the Saxon bastardisation of the Latin Anderida - we might say then that Anderida itself was a corrupted loan word. I am immediately reminded of Ritona (same root component - *ritu-), a Celtic goddess or genius-loci venerated by the Treveri in what is now Germany. According to Jean-Marie Pailler (via Wikipedia, I couldn’t find the quote elsewhere), "Water crossings required religious precautions that were written into the landscape, toponymy, and ritual: Ritona is thus well at home among the 'crossers' who were the Treveri".

Could this suggest a similar veneration of a localised spirit figure or goddess who guarded the waters, courses and crossings that not only passed through the Weald but in several instances find their sources there? The concept of localised spiritual entities appears to have been a feature of the early Britons’ religious practices, alongside ancestral veneration. Further links might be postulated here when one considers the nature of the second part of the word - *ritu - a ford, course or water crossing. Water features as a constant in a variety of primary sources relating to the Celtic Otherworld, surviving all the way through to the Arthurian Romances. My hypothesised figure of the ‘Ford Maiden’ also bears something of a poetic link with the ghostly or fairy figure of the well or river maiden, found throughout Celtic, Germanic and Medieval literature. It’s is a fascinating potentiality, albeit one that relies on a pretty haphazard (mis?)understanding of the application of Proto-Celtic in a meaningful way. There is also the possibility, like much tucked away in the lore of the Ancients, that inference is at play here. In this instance, this spirit at the 'ford' or 'course' is symbolic of transition or travel - perhaps the journey of life itself in it's broadest sense. But that is all conjecture.

The next connection I made to the possibility of a feminine spirit-figure or goddess as attested by Valiente, one that specifically links to the research I had done regarding Dame Dark, began to slot into place when I came across the following in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle - Part 1:

“A.D. 477. This year came Ella to Britain, with his three sons, Cymen, and Wlenking, and Cissa, in three ships; landing at a place that is called Cymenshore. There they slew many of the Welsh; and some in flight they drove into the wood that is called Andred’sley."

The Welsh? Correct. The Welsh. Here, Welsh seems to be a translation of the term Wealas or Walhaz which was a term applied by the Saxons and Germanic tribes to those Celts who still lived in the former Western Roman Empire. Broadly, it refers to any of the indigenous peoples left in the wake of the Empire's recession during the 5th and 6th centuries. These people, especially in the context of the contemporary British Isles, are cognate with the Cornish (referred to in many texts as the West Welsh) and Welsh, both of whom retain Brythonic languages that contain direct links to our ancient Celtic past.

Whilst researching Dame Dark, inspired by what I had read in Conner’s The Pagan Heart of the West, I had come across some interesting folklore that connected a series of Welsh folkloric figures to her, but considering Wales to be rather geographically distant (given the plethora of variations that exist region to region in the UK) I had initially set it to one side.

Upon returning to it, it makes for a fascinating read. Here, is a succinct version from the Cambrian Quarterly Magazine and Celtic Repertory (1832) regarding the Welsh folklore of the Wild Hunt:

“After these appalling aerial noises and supernatural appearances, that mysterious and magic personage the fury Andras or magician Malen, for she is known by both names, claims a moment of our attention; not only on account of the many legends and traditions respecting her but also because to this day the inhabitants of Wales make frequent allusions to her in their familiar conversation, Richards says, “The goddess or fury Andrasta to whom the ancient Britons offered up human sacrifices; she was otherwise known by the name of Malen or Maalen and the vulgar often call her Y Fall ie. the false or evil one and Mam y Drwg or the mother of wickedness. This Andras or Malen is feigned to have had a magic horse on the back of which witches are said to have been carried through the air, whence sprung the proverbial expression ‘a gasgler ar farch Malen dan ei dor ydd a’ that is ‘what is got on the back of Malen's horse will be soon spent under his belly.’ From hence we have the old English proverb ‘what is got on the devil's back is spent under his belly.’ It is curious to observe how almost all the old English fairy tales and proverbial expressions have their origin in some ancient Welsh legend or tradition”

The phonic similarities between Andras and Andred are indeed tantalising, more so when coupled with the explicit references to witchcraft. With a little further research, I was able to ascertain that the term andras (itself feminine) underwent a change in the Welsh language and became andros which now (as a male term) means devil. It survives mainly in turns of phrase like andros o mean literally ‘a devil of’ or in a more user friendly sense ‘devilishly’ or ‘fiendishly.’ We might suppose that, through time, the name was corrupted from a feminine to a masculine one in line with the Church’s position (or perhaps the social assumption) regarding the gender of it’s central antagonist - Satan as male.

Much has already been said (by others more eloquent than I) of the witch’s connection to the horse as an animal. Some more of it will be mentioned when I look at the connections between Saxon and Germanic mythologies regarding the Wild Hunt and Sussex in my next two posts. The magic horses which this folkloric figure appears to gift to witches is particularly intriguing, though, when one considers the confessions of 17th century Scottish witch Isobel Gowdie who described flying with her coven on magical horses rather than on a broomstick.

I was drawn in this instance to look in more detail at the figure of Malen, ‘for she is known by both names.’ A quick search online demonstrates that if Malen was used in the Welsh language, it hasn’t necessarily survived as a commonplace term in modern Welsh. Thomas Richards 1753 Antiquæ linguæ Britannicæ renders several usages and definitions of the word as both Malen and malen including the words “steel, iron, faith […] it seems also to signify a Devil and is written Malaen.” Pughe’s A Dictionary of the Welsh Language (1803) gives the following definition: “Malen; One that is of metal or iron; who uses or carries iron; one that is used to war or violence; Bellona; Andrasta; also an epithet for a shield”

Andrasta or Andraste (and who knows, perhaps Andred, Andras and Malen) is the figure noted to have been worshipped by the Iceni queen Boudicca (or Boadicea) by Dio Cassius. As befits a warrior goddess, the connections with violence, metal and shields certainly seem apt. The connections made with the Roman Bellona are also pertinent. But what might the explicit connection to Sussex be? And could this Malen/Andras figure be the same as Andred?

There is, in fact, a reason for this direct connection - and it is rooted in Sussex and the Weald’s ancient history. Prior to the Saxon invasion, the Weald (and particularly East Sussex) was a fundamental area for the mining of ironstone and production of iron. Ironmaking in the Weald harvested ironstone from various clay beds, and was fuelled by charcoal made from trees in the heavily wooded landscape. According to the Wealden Iron Research Group, 67% of the documented iron mines in Roman Briton were located in the Weald. In addition to this, Sussex historically had several documented chalybeate springs (mineral springs containing salts of iron) - notably in Hastings and also in Hove (interestingly, about a ten minute walk from my house). During the Saxon occupation, iron production ground to a halt and ceased in the Weald until the Early Modern period when it was revived with gusto.

Do we have evidence here of a darker Andred? One with a distinctly more chthonic aspect. As Malen, she potentially becomes a goddess or spirit of the bounties beneath the earth and their potential for the fate of kings and tribes, similar to the way that Pluto was both the chthonic Lord of the Dead as well as the riches that lay beneath the earth. Iron was essential for warfare to the early Britons. It was called the Iron Age for a reason. I am reminded, though, of a quote from Puck of Pook’s Hill by Rudyard Kipling in which the eponymous fairy, Puck, describes to the two children he meets on the South Downs the nature of iron and fate:

“…Folks in housen, as the People of the Hills call them, must be ruled by Cold Iron. Folk in housen are born on the near side of Cold Iron—there’s iron in every man’s house, isn’t there? They handle Cold Iron every day of their lives, and their fortune’s made or spoilt by Cold Iron in some shape or other. That’s how it goes with Flesh and Blood, and one can’t prevent it.”

Here we have perhaps come full circle from the last post. If we were to assume that the Welsh Andras/Malen and the Andred of the Weald are indeed the same figure, we might also posit that the connections made between birth and death in the figure of Dame Dark are given greater complexity here as a figure who rules the many varied aspects of human endeavour. Here she could be posited as the giver of the means progress, of protection but also the potential for destruction.

I leave you with one last nugget that leapt into my lap as I researched. Again, I make these connections as a non-expert in the Celtic languages. I also make connections that I consider to have a level of fortuitousness about them. The possibility that Andred/Andras/Malen and Andraste/Andrasta are the same entity is perhaps wishful thinking, especially when one considers the many additional layers of Devil’s Dam/Mother Midnight/Dame Dark that I covered in the last post. It is almost a stroke of absurd luck, then, that the reconstructed Proto-Celtic term for ‘dark’ turns out to be - an-drixtā- Crazy coincidence? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

In my next post, I’ll be investigating the Saxon influences that may have contributed to the Witchmother in Sussex - Cuckoo’s Ward.

Works Cited

• Where Witchcraft Lives

• Dictionary of Greek and Roman Geography

• Archaeologia Cantiana Vol. 14

• A Guide to the Roman Remains in Britain

• On Some Romano-British Place Names

• Proto-Celtic Lexicon (University of Wales)

• Ritona

• Holy Islands and the Otherworld - Places Beyond the Water

• The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle - Part 1

• Cambrian Quarlerly Magazine & Celtic Repertory Vol. 4

• Antiquæ linguæ Britannicæ

• Wealden Iron Research Group