Dear Sir,—I am glad to find that Councillor Graham White is supporting the traditions of Monmouthshire and “Via Julia.” But in the light of the recent discovery of early British trackways, why not give it a British name instead of the Roman “Via Julia?” During the summer of 1921 Mr. Alfred Watkins, of Hereford, discovered that Britain is traversed by a network of hidden ancient trackways known as “leys,” with trees, moats, lakes, cromlechs and churches acting as sighting camps and signalling stations.
I have tested this theory, and find that it is verified and strengthened when tested by the language of the period. The “ley,” as folk lore calls these trackways, is an ancient British word “Lle,” which means “a direction,” “a place of finding,” “an indication.” Hundreds of place-names in England have “ley” as the basic part of the name Wensleydale (near Preston), Leyton, Leytonstone, Bitterley, Oxley, and countless others.
Monmouthshire, the scene of so many early battles, with its numerous camps, cromlechs, and mounds, is veined like a leaf with these early trackways, and I have every reason to believe that the much discussed “new” road of Barrack-lane, is part of the main direct ley from the Severn sea to the interior of Britain.
Mr. Watkins has dealt only with the leys of his native county of Herefordshire, but with the aid of his “Early British Trackways” it is simple (and intensely interesting) to trace the leys of Monmouthshire. To begin with, Twyn Barllwm is an undoubted signalling station, and St. Woollos Church evidently the terminal of one ley, having brought the traveller down to the coast. Of course, literally speaking, St. Woollos is quite half a mile from the river and coast line, but the ley could not have been brought further without losing the advantage of its high altitude.
Monmouthshire place names clearly indicate the hidden leys. There is a Bertholey near Wentwood, and also in Glamorgan. “Berth” is an old Welsh word meaning “fair,” “beautiful,” “excellent”—a description of the countryside through which the ley at this point passes.
At Llanvihangel Crucorney is the famous avenue of Scotch firs, one of the finest in the kingdom. Such a row of firs, states Mr. Watkins, is a sure indication of a ley running down the centre. I think the name Crucorney is derived from “Crwg” (bent or crooked) and “carn” (“stones”)—“the ley running past the crooked stones.” Is the name “Gwernesney”—“Gwern-ys-ley”—the ley running past the alder trees? Mr. Watkins has already traced across the mountain above Llanthony a ley which is a continuation of one running out of Herefordshire.
It si noticeable that in all parts of England, and also further into Wales, the “ley” is distinct, as in Caerphilly (“the ley to the camp,”) Llanelly (the church ley), Kidwelly (junction of the leys). But in this border county of Monmouthshire the letter “l” seems to have been dropped. Possibly owing to the English inability to pronounce the Welsh rendering of “lle.”
Cefn Mably is interesting and puzzling. “Cefn” means “second,” “behind,” “a lesser degree; “mab” is “son” or “boy”; does this ley lead to the land, property, or inheritance of a second son of an old Welsh chieftain?
Yet another ley—Kemeys Folly. Every one knows that from this hill it is possible to see no less than 11 counties. That is why Squire Kemeys built his summer house there. But the men of Gwent knew of this remarkable long distance range hundreds of years ago, and for some reason or other called it “Ffo-ley.” “Ffo” or “Ffoi,” meaning “danger,” “go back,’ “retreat,” “take flight.” Why should the traveller at this point be warned to retreat? The Folly lies between Usk and Caerleon. Was it because the Romans lurked in the valley or was it because at this point the ley descended into a valley which offered little means of escape and lesser advantage than the higher ground in case of an attack? What do our Boy Scouts think of it? Their opinion on this subject is not to be despised, and personally I should welcome and value it.
Trostrey—“tryst” means “sure,” “safe,” “trustworthy.” Is the ley at this point sure and trustworthy, to be taken with confidence, without fear of attack?
Abertillery and the Tillery brook near by have always puzzled us, so I offer no excuse for adding to the list of suggestions regarding the origin of the name. “Aber” is, of course, a confluence, a meeting place, and “Tyle” or “Tylau” means “a steep place,” “rising ground,” “an ascent.” The last generation always pronounced Abertillery with the emphasis on the third syllable “Tylau.” Was it originally Aber-tylau-ley—the meeting place of the steep leys?
I am inclined to think that a ley runs over the mountain at Ebbw Vale, wher the “Bronze Age” tools were found a few months ago. The story of Ebbw Vale is the story of British travellers crossing the mountains in the track o fthe ley who heard the war cry of the Britons rising up the valley warning them of the approach of the invaders. Perhaps the travellers themselves saw the oncomers from the long distance range offered by the mountainous ground. They buried their precious tools—for these tools were everything to early man—beside the leyside and covered them with a huge stone, intending to reclaim them after they had driven off the enemy. But, alas, like many Britons who came down into the valleys in answer to the war cry of 1914, they fell in battle, and their tools lay by the leyside until they were discovered a few months ago But—“Gwell Angau na Chywiliad,” “Rather death than shame,” is the war-cry of Gwent, so perhaps they do not need our sympathy after all.
Yet another much discussed name which seems a little clearer when linked with the leys. Bassalleg—or its earlier name “Maesa leg.” Has the letter y been mistaken by the old scribes for “g,” and is it “Maes-y-ley,” the ley through the meadow?
Just these few names serve to show that these ancient trackways traverse Monmouthshire in many directions, and it is already known that many of the Roman roads were built upon the site and tracks of the earlier British leys.
Therefore, as I have already said, we have ample evidence to believe that the “new road” which it is proposed to call “Ridgeway,’ the “Via Julia” of the Romans, is actually part of direct ley from the Severn Sea, ascending Barrack-hill, crossing Risca-road at Glasslwch, running through Maes-y-ley and the meadows, and then passing on into Glamorgan and branching off into the interior, as Mr. Graham White has already pointed out.
Now the Britons of the “New Port” wish to honour the memory of those lads of Gwent who came down the leys in answer to the war cry of 1914, and, like those of Ebbw Vale, did not return. And this ancient pathway has been renewed as a means of relief and employment to those British warriors who did return. And it is well known among antiquarians and historians that names and name places cling and endure long after stones and buildings have fallen in decay.
If we truly wish to honour and remember the dead lads who once trod this pathway, why not dedicate it to them and give it the name of “Lle (ley) Rhyfelau”—the pathway of the warriors?”
The name is longer certainly than “Ridgeway,” and will doubtless arouse the interest of strangers. But are we ashamed of our land that we should seek to hide their memory? And even when spoken by English tongues the word is full of melody and rhythm, singing to English ears like the French word “Reveille.”
To Mr. Napier White’s letter it is difficult to reply. I feel that no matter how hard I tried to explain he would still “not understand.” It is evident he is not of the Welsh nation, and does not hear the call of the ...t with its sweet, clear notes—history, pride ...ace, and romance. Possibly he is not a native of Newport or not long resident here. ... that, of course, would account for much ... I should like to convey to him the fact that although he is at present a resident of “The Pathway of the Warriors” (for thus it is now as in days of old) he is not likely always live there and assert what he thinks ... a “prior right.” Many natives, although now resident in other parts of the town, have memories of the hills and streams of Alteryn and the “New” road possibly long before Mr. Napier White ever saw it, and I think that we, too, have a right to ask that the “new” road preserve the traditions of our birthplace.
It is with relief that I read the letter of Dirty Dorset. “Dirty” or “Glan,” we have mutual understanding, and I know he is quite right when he says that “Ridgeway” is one of the oldest roads in the South of England. But as a native of Dorset he would think us rather lacking in courtesy and good fellowship if we went down into Dorset and tried to break down his county traditions.
Strangers should, in this case, stand aside, and let the naming of the “new”
road rest with those who mourn the Newport lads who have gone down the “Pathway of the Warriors.” “Ridgeway” or Rhyfelwr?”—Faithfully yours,
N. L.
Source info: MS note by AW “South Wales Argus Dec 19 1922”.
Speculations about Monmouthshire place names in the light of the ley theory.
Part of the left-hand edge of the cutting is missing. Text highlighted like this has had to be guessed.