University of Hertfordshire Press

This book discusses how various recurrent early medieval place-names ending in tun might have originated in response to social, economic, political or religious factors. It considers specifically whether these names might, as some scholars have suggested, reflect a possible function related to one or more aspects of early medieval society but which is not apparent from their etymology. It examines studies of names such as Stretton, Eaton, Burton and Kingston and questions recent theories around suggested functions for these places. The author proposes that most of these recurrent compounds named a land unit distinguished by a simple topographical feature or by the name or status of the landholder rather than by a presumed function. She also considers the hypothesis that the perceived concentration of certain recurrent names in clusters, largely in the central and southern regions of England, was the result of a deliberate designation of these places to provide a function in the strategic defence and administration of Mercia during the eighth and early ninth centuries, with some other kingdoms, especially Wessex, following the Mercian example. She has sought to explain why there is not enough evidence to substantiate, or disprove, the hypothesis about clusters of ‘functional’ place-names and at the same time to show that there is enough evidence to cast doubt on that hypothesis and the nature of the data used to support it. The meaning and uses of tun, regarded as the commonest element in English place-names, are part of the argument presented in this book. In the light of archaeological and related research in recent decades, some of the past translations of tun are no longer tenable. This book argues for a general meaning of a defined area of land, held as a unit with rights over the land and its people. The widespread use of tun reflects a society where landholding was essential to survival and for wealth and power.

Archaeology can transform our knowledge of the history of gardens and designed landscapes. Terraces, viewing mounts, pools and other features of the great gardens laid out around elite residences at various times in the past can leave impressive earthwork traces; long-lost walls and garden buildings may be revealed by aerial photography or remote sensing techniques such as Lidar. Landscape parks, moreover, often contain the fossilised traces of the working countryside that was swept away when they were created, providing important information about the ‘genius of the place’ which was consulted when they were first designed. Hertfordshire is particularly rich in such remains. Proximity to London ensured, from an early date, an active land market and a rapid turn-over of properties: where estates were amalgamated with neighbours and mansions demolished, traces of their gardens were often preserved under grass or woodland. And the county’s moderately undulating terrain provided opportunities for - in  some cases necessitated - large  schemes of earth movement to provide level areas for lawns and parterres, or to create terraces. In this fascinating and innovative study - the outcome of several decades of research - systematic field survey and the analysis of aerial photographs and Lidar images are combined with the evidence of early maps and documents to reconstruct the appearance and history of more than twenty of Hertfordshire’s ‘lost gardens’. An archaeological approach also allows us to see garden history in new ways, revealing aspects of design and patterns of development not readily apparent in the kinds of evidence conventionally employed by garden historians. Clearly and accessibly written, and richly illustrated with a wealth of archaeological plans, aerial photographs, archive maps and early engravings and paintings, this book will be essential reading for all those interested in Hertfordshire’s archaeology and garden history, as well as for students of garden and landscape history more generally.