I’m working on a novel set in 15th Century England and part of the action is set near the town of Cirencester, Gloucestershire.
Given that the readers of a text novel will pronounce names however they want, still, I’m finding it irksome not to have the correct pronunciation in mind as I’m writing.
Wikipedia says that Cirencester is pronounced as ‘SYE-rən-ses-tər’ but, given what the British do with names like Leicestershire, Worcestershire, and Gloucestershire, I find that hard to believe.
I’ll go with however local residents choose to pronounce it today.
This is an odd case. It used to be pronounced /sisester/, but fairly recently the pronunciation changed to follow the spelling. So, if you’re in 15th century England, it might be pronounced either way! (I’m not sure when the spelling got fixed and the pronunciation changed away from the spelling).
Is there a reason that Gloucester, Worcester, and Leicester lost their “ch” but places like Manchester and Dorchester didn’t? Are Gloucester and the others older?
Having lived there for 30+ years and my family being there for at least 6 generations…
Siren - As in police car.
Sester - As to rhyme with the electric uncle from ‘Addams Family’
Locals often contract it to just ‘Ciren’.
Anecdotaly, in the past, it was pronounced ‘Ziren Zester’ although to my Cotswold ears this sounds more Somerset to me.
It’s also been pronounced ‘Sis-It-Er’ in the past but I can’t tell you when.
15th century fact:- The Parish church bell tower was built. Originally designed to have a spire but the foundations started to fail during construction. Hence the large and non-architectural flying buttresses.
All corruptions from Latin castrum, meaning a fort. Hard to say whether any of them are older than any others, in that despite their modern names coming from the Romans, settlements were probably already there before that. Dorchester, for instance, was the home of the Durotriges tribe, one of the Celtic tribes predating the Romans. Thanks to the tribe, the Romans called their town Durnovaria when they built a fort there. Dur= Dor and castrum=chester. I have no knowledge of why some places ended up with a ch instead of a c at the start of castrum, though if I was asked to guess I might say something about local accents or spelling variations which made it into official language and then filtered back to the people who actually lived there.
Not that there should be any doubt about it but, as a resident of Gloucestershire living less than 20 miles from Cirencester, I can confirm that Deflagration’s information is bang on.
I hale from nearby. Older (now dead) members of my family referred to it always as Sisester, but most people now call it Cirensester. I am in my sixties.
is that Chelt en ham with all the syllables evenly stressed, or Chelt 'nam, with stress on the first syllable. In my experience, coming from the frequently mispronounced Werr cester shire (Woostershere), the former is how many Americans will pronounce it
And, yet further confusement: I recall hearing / seeing it suggested a few times, long ago, that another local-pronunciation variant for the Gloucestershire town, was “sister” – just as in, female sibling. I suspect that that was a myth – thought up so as to make work, the following foolish limerick.
There was a young lady of Cirencester
Who stood up to speak, and they hirencester:
A man threw a carrot –
She screeched like a parrot –
But ducked in a flash, and it mirencester.
The heck with it – I cannot resist posting the following verse offering – part of a piece by the late British humorist Paul Jennings, about pronunciation / spelling craziness re place names in England; and attempting rhyming guidance, for those perplexed by that issue.
…Tourists, attention ! Nor forthwith assume
You say as spelt each little town, like Frome.
The Welsh have funny names your tongue to twist with
Like Penmaenmawr and Gwlch and Aberystwyth:
That you expect. But when in England, how
Dare any tourist ask the way to Slough,
Who yesterday put someone in a huff
By thinking “brow” homophonous with Brough?
Though Glyndebourne opera for the cultured few is,
How can they get there but by way of Lewes?
Under the Sussex Downs, where snug they both lie,
Are many other gems – for instance, Hoathly.
What lord of maps, what orthographic jouster
Grapples with Bicester and its sicester, Towcester [A],
And never gets in something of a panic
If blank stares greet him when he asks for Alnwick,
Nor ends by thinking people downright spooky
Who make a place spelt Stiffkey rhyme with Newquay?
Tourists, you needn’t be alarmed unduly
By England’s treatment of a word like Beaulieu.
These Norman names (or Saxon ones, like Wrotham)
Unlettered men have modified to suit ‘em,
And pundits long since gave up trying to teach ‘em
How you should really say a name like Beauchamp.
Our names and views hold unexpected joy: –
Views English-Channel seaward, as at Fowey;
Views over sands, or rocky views and pebbly;
Pastoral views, near inland towns like Weobley;
East Anglian views, with churches old and mossy,
Each as unique as disyllabic Costessy…
[A] The author would seem here to have cheated a bit, in order to get the desired rhyme: I understand that the usual pronunciation of the T-place, is the same as that of the thing with which one makes toast.
A tourist could have fun with Bicester, though.