Chapter 15

Ten thousand knights stout and fers,Withouten hobelers and squyers.

Ten thousand knights stout and fers,

Withouten hobelers and squyers.

These hobelers are far from being uninteresting. When we talk of riding a hobby, we little think what a history is concealed beneath the term. A hobiler[188]in the days we are speaking of, was one who held by tenure of maintaining a hobbie—a kind of small horse, then familiarly so known. A song on the times, written in the fourteenth century, and complaining of the manner in which the upper classes plundered the poor, says:—

And those hoblurs, namelich,That husband benimeth eri of ground,Men ne should them bury in none chirch,But cast them out as a hound.

And those hoblurs, namelich,

That husband benimeth eri of ground,

Men ne should them bury in none chirch,

But cast them out as a hound.

Later on, by its fictitious representation in the Morris dances of the May-day sports, the hobby came to denote the mere dummy, and now as such affords much scope for equestrian skill in the Rotten Row of our nurseries. What tricks time plays with these words, to be sure, and what a connexion for our ‘Hoblers’ and ‘Hobblers’ to meditate upon. Our ‘Bannermans’ are Scotch, but they represent an office, whether in England or the North, whose importance it would be hard to estimate at this period. Nor are we without traces in our nomenclature of its existence in more southern districts. Our not unfamiliar ‘Pennigers’ and ‘Pennigars’ are but the former officialpennager, he who bore the ensign or standard of his lord. They figure even in more general and festive pageants. In the York Procession we find walking alone and between the different craftsmen the ‘Pennagers.’ Probably they bore the ensigns of that thenimportant corporate city. I have but recently referred to ‘Robert Clavynger’ (H.) and the probability of his having carried the club or mace or key of his superiors in office. All or well-nigh all the above names find themselves well represented in the registers of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Our eye falls at once on an ‘Andrew le Gramary,’ a ‘Richard le Gramayre,’ a ‘Thomas le Skolmayster,’ a ‘Warin le Latimer,’ a ‘William le Latiner,’ a ‘Jordan le Vavasur,’ a ‘Simon le Knyt,’ a ‘Gilbert le Bacholer,’ a ‘Walter le Squier,’ or a ‘Nicholas Armiger.’

A curious relic of the military tactics of mediæval times is presented to our notice in our ‘Reuters,’ ‘Ritters,’ and ‘Rutters.’ The old English forms are found in such entries as ‘Thomas le Reuter,’ or ‘Ranulph le Ruter.’ The root of the term is probably the German ritter, or rider, a name given at this period to certain mercenary soldiers oftentimes hired by our English sovereigns out of Brabant and the surrounding country. Thus we find William of Newburgh, under the date 1173, saying that Henry II. ‘stipendarias Bribantionum copias, quas Rutas vocant, accersivit.’ (Lib. ii. cap. 27.) Trivet, relating the same fact, says (p. 73), ‘Conduxit Brabanzones et Rutarios.’[189]An old song begins—

Rutterkyn is come into owre towne,In a cloke withoute cote or gowne,Save a raggid hood to kover his crowneLike a rutter hoyda.Rutterkyn can speke no Englyssh,His tonge runneth all on buttyrd fyssh,Besmeared with grece abowte his disshe,Like a rutter hoyda.

Rutterkyn is come into owre towne,

In a cloke withoute cote or gowne,

Save a raggid hood to kover his crowne

Like a rutter hoyda.

Rutterkyn can speke no Englyssh,

His tonge runneth all on buttyrd fyssh,

Besmeared with grece abowte his disshe,

Like a rutter hoyda.

The nickname ‘rutterkin’ proves the Flemish origin of these troopers. Their capacity for stowing away food and drink, from all accounts, is not exaggerated in the poem from which the above is an extract. We have just mentioned our ‘Bachelors,’ and this reminds us of our ‘Childs,’ and of the days of chivalry. The term ‘child’ was a distinctly honourable title in the olden times. It was borne by the sons of all the higher nobility; if by the eldest son, then in right of his title to his father’s honours and possessions; if more generally by others, then until by some deed of prowess they had been raised to the ranks of knighthood. In either case ‘child’ was the term in use during this probationary state. Thus Byron in his ‘Childe Harold’ has but revived the ‘Childe Waters,’ ‘Childe Rolands,’ and ‘Childe Thopas’s’ of earlier times.[190]We owe many existing and several obsolete surnames to this custom. Our ‘Childs’ are but descendants of such a sobriquet as ‘Ralph le Child;’ our ‘Eyres’ of such an entry as ‘William le Eyre;’ some of our ‘Barnes’ may be but the offspring of such a personage as ‘Thomas le Barne’ (now ‘bairn,’ that is, the born one); while ‘Stephen le Enfant’ or ‘Walter le Enfaunt’ represents an appellation that is now obsolete in England.[191]I need scarcely add thatthis last, in the form of Infante and Infanta, still bears the same meaning in the royal families of Spain that Child did in our own land in more chivalric days.

The details of early feudal life are wonderfully depicted by our nomenclature. Owing to the boundless and forced ceremony which arose out of the prevailing spirit of feudal pride, our official memorials are well-nigh overwhelming. Feudal tenure itself became associated with office, and none seemed too servile for acceptance. As has been said of Charlemagne’s Court, so might it be said of those of others—‘they were crowded with officers of every rank, some of the most eminent of whom exercised functions about the royal person which would have been thought fit only for slaves in the palace of Augustus or Antonine’—‘to carry his banner or his lance, to lead his array, to be his marshall, or constable, or sewer, or carver, to do in fact such services, trivial or otherwise, as his lord might have done himself, in proper person, had it so pleased him—this was the position coveted by youths of birth and distinction at such a period as this.’ Many of these officerships, or the bare titles, still linger round the court of our sovereign. The higher feudatories, of course, followed the example thus set them by their suzerain, and the lesser barons these, and thus household officers sprang up on every side. See how this has left its mark upon our surnames. ‘John le Conestable,’ or ‘Robert le Constable,’I need not say, is still well represented. In the ‘Man of Lawes Tale’ the poet says:—

The constable of the castel doun is fareTo see this wreck.

The constable of the castel doun is fare

To see this wreck.

With him we may ally our not unfamiliar ‘Castlemans,’ ‘Castelans,’ and ‘Chatelains,’ representatives of the old ‘John le Chastilioun,’ or ‘Joscelin le Castelan,’ or ‘Ralph le Chatelaine.’ The poet whom I have just quoted says elsewhere:—

Now am I king, now chastelaine.

Doubtless this latter was but a synonym of the constable, and his duties as governor but the same. Of decidedly lower position, but not dissimilar in character, we have also ‘Wybert le Portere,’ or ‘Portarius,’ as he is Latinized in our rolls. An old book of etiquette says:—

When thou comes to a lordis gateThe porter thou shalle fynde therate.

When thou comes to a lordis gate

The porter thou shalle fynde therate.

He at the postern would as carefully look against hostile, as our former ‘Peter le Ussher,’ or ‘Alan le Usser,’ within would against informal approach.[192]The Saxon form, however, was evidently not wanting, for we have still ‘Doorward’ and ‘Doorman’ (‘Geoffrey le Doreward,’ A., ‘Nicholas le Doreman,’ O.) in our directories, not to mention their corrupted, ‘Durwards,’ immortalized by Walter Scott, and ‘Dormans’ and ‘Domans.’ The term ‘doorward’ is found inmany of our early writers. Thus in an old metrical account of the bringing of Christ before Caiaphas, it is said of John when he returned to fetch in Peter:—

He bid the durewardLet in his fere.

He bid the dureward

Let in his fere.

Our ‘Chamberlaynes’ and ‘Chambers,’[193](‘Simon le Chamberlain,’ M., ‘Henry le Chaumberleyne,’ B., ‘William de la Chaumbre,’ B.) had access to their lord’s inner privacy, and from their intimacy with his monetary affairs occupied a position at times similar to that of our more collegiate bursar. We have only to look at mediæval costume, its grandeur, its colours, and its varied array, to understand how necessary there should be a special officer to superintend his lord’s wardrobe. Our ‘Wardrops’ are but the former ‘de la Wardrobe,’ or ‘de la Garderoba,’ while ‘le Wardrober,’ or ‘le Garderober,’ has bequeathed us our ‘Wardropers.’ Thus the ‘Book of Curtasye’ says:—

The usshere shalle bydde the wardropereMake redy for alle, night before they fere.

The usshere shalle bydde the wardropere

Make redy for alle, night before they fere.

Equally important as an attendant was the ‘Barbour.’ He especially was on familiar terms with his master—when was he not? I need scarcely say that among his other duties that of acting as surgeon in the household was none of the lightest. Still his tonsorial capacity was his first one. No one then thought of shaving himself, least of all the baron. Even so late as the sixteenth century a writer defending the use of the beard against Andrew Boorde employs this argument:—

But, syre, I praye you, if you tell can,Declare to me, when God made man(I meane by our forefather Adam),Whether that he had a berde then;And if he had, who did hym shave,Since that a barber he could not have.

But, syre, I praye you, if you tell can,

Declare to me, when God made man

(I meane by our forefather Adam),

Whether that he had a berde then;

And if he had, who did hym shave,

Since that a barber he could not have.

I have no doubt it is here we must set our ‘Simisters,’ relics, as they probably are, of such a name as ‘John Somayster,’ or ‘William Summister.’ The summaster seems from its orthography to have represented one who acted as a clerk or comptroller, something akin to the chamberlain or breviter, whom I shall mention almost immediately; one, in fact, who cast up and certified accounts. Holinshed used the word as if in his day it were of familiar import. Dwelling upon a certain event, he says—‘Over this, if the historian be long, he is accompted a trifler; if he be short, he is taken for a summister.’[194]

In such days as those, what with the number of personal retainers and the excess of hospitality expected of the feudal chief, the culinary department occupied far from an insignificant position in regard to the general accessories of the baronial establishment. Our ‘Cooks,’ or ‘Cokes,’ or ‘Cookmans,’ relics of the old ‘Roger le Coke,’ or ‘Joan le Cook,’ or ‘William Cokeman,’ even then ruled supreme over that most absolute of all monarchies, the kitchen; our ‘Kitchenmans’ (now found also as ‘Kitchingham’), ‘Kitcheners,’ and ‘Kitchens,’ or ‘de la Kitchens,’as they were once written, reminding us who it was that aided them to turn the spit or handle the posnet. Our ‘Pottingers’ represent the once common ‘Robert le Potager,’ or ‘Walter le Potager,’ the soup-maker.Potagewas the ordinary term for soup, thickened well with vegetables and meat.[195]Thus in the ‘Boke of Curtasye’ the guest is bid—

Suppe not with grete sowndynge,Neither potage ne other thynge—

Suppe not with grete sowndynge,

Neither potage ne other thynge—

a rule which still holds good in society. We are well aware of the ingredients of the dish which our Bible translators have still bequeathed to us as ‘a mess of potage.’ In its present corrupted form of ‘porridge’ this notion of amessrather than of asoupis still preserved. Another interesting servitorship of this class has well-nigh escaped our notice—that of the hastiler: he who turned thehasteor spit. In the Close Rolls we find a ‘Thurstan le Hastler’ recorded, and in the Parliamentary Writs such names as ‘Henry Hastiler’ and ‘WilliamHastiler.’ In the will of Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Essex, among other household servants, such as potager, ferour, barber, ewer, is mentioned ‘William de Barton, hastiler.’ I need not remind Lancashire people that ahaister, orhaster, is still the term used for the tin screen employed for roasting purposes. The memorials of this interesting servitorship still linger on in our ‘Hastlers,’ ‘Haslers,’ and ‘Haselers.’ If, however, the supervision of the roasting and basting required an attendant, none the less was it so with the washing-up department. How familiarly does such a term as ‘scullery’ fall from our lips, and how little do many of us know of its history. Anescuelle[196]was a porringer or dish, and ascullerywas a place where such vessels were stored after being washed.[197]Hence a ‘squiller’ or ‘squyler’ was he who looked to this; our modern ‘scullion,’ in fact, which is but a corrupted form of the same word. In one of Robert of Brunne’s poems, we find him saying—

And the squyler of the kechyn,Piers, that hath woned (dwelt) here yn.[198]

And the squyler of the kechyn,

Piers, that hath woned (dwelt) here yn.[198]

In a book of ‘Ordinances and Regulations’ we find mention made even of a ‘sergeant-squylloure.’ Doubtless his duty was to look after the carriage of utensils at such times as his lord made any extended journey, or to superintend the washing of cup and platter after the open-board festivities which were the custom of early baronial establishments. To provide for every retainer who chanced to come in would be, indeed, a care. The occurrence of a ‘Roger de Norhamtone, Squyler,’ however, in the London City rolls, seems to imply that occasionally the sale of such vessels gave the title. I cannot say the name is obsolete, as I have met with one ‘Squiller;’ and ‘Skiller,’ which would seem to be a natural corruption, is not uncommon. Our ‘Spencers,’ abbreviated from ‘despencer,’ had an important charge—that of the ‘buttery,’ or ‘spence,’ the place where the household store was kept. The term is still in use, I believe, in our country farm-houses. In the ‘Sumner’s Tale’ the glutton is well described as—

All vinolent as botel in the spence;

and Mr. Halliwell, I see, with his wonted research, has lighted on the following lines:—

Yet I had lever she and IWere both togyther secretlyIn some corner in the spence.[199]

Yet I had lever she and I

Were both togyther secretly

In some corner in the spence.[199]

‘De la Spence,’ as well as ‘le Spencer,’ has impressed itself upon our living nomenclature. Our ‘Panters,’‘Pantlers,’ and ferocious-seeming ‘Panthers,’ descendants of such folk as ‘Richard le Panter,’ or ‘Robert le Paneter,’ or ‘Henry de le Paneterie,’ are but relics of a similar office. They had the superintendence of the ‘paneterie,’ or pantry; literally, of course, the bread closet. It seems, however, early to have become used in a wider and more general sense. In the Household Ordinances of Edward IV. one of the sergeants is styled ‘the chief Pantrer of the King’s mouth.’ John Russel in his ‘Boke of Nurture’ thus directs his student—

The furst yere, my son, thou shalt be pantere or buttilare,Thou must have three knyffes kene in pantry, I sey thee, evermare,One knyfe the loaves to choppe, another them for to pare,The third, sharp and kene, to smothe the trenchers and square.[200]

The furst yere, my son, thou shalt be pantere or buttilare,

Thou must have three knyffes kene in pantry, I sey thee, evermare,

One knyfe the loaves to choppe, another them for to pare,

The third, sharp and kene, to smothe the trenchers and square.[200]

Of the old ‘Achatour’ (found as ‘Henry le Catour’ or ‘Bernard le Acatour’), the purveyor for the establishment, we have many memorials, those of ‘Cater,’ ‘Cator,’ and ‘Caterer’ being the commonest. Chaucer quaintly remarks of the ‘Manciple,’[201]who was so

Wise in buying of victuals,

that of him

Achatours mighten take ensample.

The provisions thus purchased were called ‘cates,’ a favourite word with some of our later poets.Equivalent to the more monastic ‘le Cellarer,’[202]which is now obsolete, are our numberless ‘Butlers,’ the most accepted form of the endless ‘Teobald le Botilers,’ ‘Richer le Botillers,’ ‘Ralph le Botelers,’ ‘William le Botellers,’ ‘Walter le Butillers,’ or ‘Hugh le Buteilliers,’ of this time. As we shall observe by-and-by, however, this was also an occupative name.[203]

With so many officers to look after the preparations, we should expect the dinner itself to be somewhat ceremonious. And so it was—far more ceremonious, however, than elegant in the light of the nineteenth century. Our ‘Senechals’ and ‘Senecals’ (‘Alexander le Seneschal,’ B., ‘Ivo Seneschallus,’ T.), relics of the ancient ‘seneschal,’ Latinized in our records as ‘Dapifer’ (‘Henry Dapifer,’ A.), arranged the table. The root of this word is the Saxon ‘schalk,’ a servant which, though now wholly obsolete,seems to have been in familiar use in early times.[204]An old poem tells us—

Then the schalkes sharply shift their horses,To show them seemly in their sheen weeds.

Then the schalkes sharply shift their horses,

To show them seemly in their sheen weeds.

In ‘Sir Gawayne,’ too, the attendant is thus described—

Clene spurs underOf bright golde, upon silk bordes, barred full rich,And scholes (depending) under shanks, there the schalk rides.

Clene spurs under

Of bright golde, upon silk bordes, barred full rich,

And scholes (depending) under shanks, there the schalk rides.

We are not without traces of its existence in other compounds. Thus our ‘Marshalls’ were originally ‘marechals;’ that is, ‘mare-schalks,’ the early name for a horse-groom or blacksmith. The Marshall, however, was early turned into an indoor office, and seems to have been busied enough in ordering the position of guests in the hall, a very punctilious affair in those days. The ‘Boke of Curtasye’ says:—

In halle marshalle alle men schalle sett,After their degre, withouten lett.

In halle marshalle alle men schalle sett,

After their degre, withouten lett.

Our ‘Gateschales,’ a name now altogether obsolete, were the more simple porter, while our ‘Gottschalks,’ a surname more frequently hailing from Germany, but once common with ourselves as a Christian name, denote simply ‘God’s servant.’ But we are wandering. Let us come back to the dinner-table. Such sobriquets as ‘Ralph le Suur’[205]or ‘John le Sewer’remind us of thesewer—he who brought in the viands.[206]Asewe, from the old French sevre, to follow, was any cooked dish, and thus is simply equivalent to ourcourse. Chaucer, in describing the rich feasts of Cambuscan, King of Tartary, says the time would fail him to tell—

Of their strange sewes.

I believe the Queen’s household still boasts its four gentlemen sewers. As a surname, too, the word is still common. A curious custom presents itself to our remembrance in our ‘Says,’ who, when not of the ‘de Says’ (‘Hugh de Say,’ A.), are but descendants of the ‘le Says’ (‘John le Say,’ M.) of the Hundred Rolls. An ‘assay’ or ‘say’ was he who assayed or tasted the messes as they were set one by one before the baron, to guard against his being accidentally or purposely poisoned. An old poem uses the fuller form, where it says—

Thine assayer schalle be an hownde,To assaye thy mete before thee.

Thine assayer schalle be an hownde,

To assaye thy mete before thee.

In the ‘Boke of Curtasye,’ too, we are told to what ranks this privilege belonged—

No mete for man schalle sayed be,But for kynge, or prynce, or duke so fre.[207]

No mete for man schalle sayed be,

But for kynge, or prynce, or duke so fre.[207]

Another term for the same made its mark upon our nomenclature as ‘Gustur’ (‘Robert le Gustur,’ T.) Togustwas thus used till Shakespeare’s day, and we still speak of ‘gusto’ as equivalent torelish.

We are reminded by the fact of the existence of ‘Knifesmith’ and ‘Spooner’ only among our early occupative surnames that there were no forks in those days.[208]There is no ‘Forker’ to be found. Even the ‘Carver’ (‘Adam le Kerver,’ A., ‘Richard le Karver,’ A.) had to use his fingers. In the ‘Boke of Kervynge,’ a manual of the then strictest etiquette in such matters, we find the following direction:—‘Set never on fyshe, flesche, beest, ne fowle, more than two fyngers and a thombe.’ Seldom, too, did they use plates as we now understand them. Before each guest was set a round slice of bread called a trencher, and the meat being placed upon this, he consumed the whole, or as much as he pleased. Under these circumstances we can easily understand how necessary would be the office of ‘Ewer,’ a name found in every early roll as ‘Brian le Ewer,’ or ‘Richard le Ewere,’ or ‘Adam de la Euerie.’ As he supplied water for each to cleanse his hands he was close followedby the ‘napper’ or ‘napier,’ who proffered the towel or napkin. The word, I need scarcely say, is but a diminutive of the oldnape, which was applied in general to the tablecloths and other linen used in setting forth the dinner. An old book, which I have already quoted, in directing the attendant how to lay the cloth, says—

The over nape schall double be layde.

The Hundred Rolls and other records furnish us with such names as ‘Jordan le Nappere,’ or ‘John le Napere,’ or ‘Walter de la Naperye.’ Behind the lord of the board, nigh to his elbow, stood the ‘page,’ holding his cup. This seems to have been an office much sought after by the sons of the lower nobility, and it is to the honourable place in which it was held we no doubt owe the fact that not merely are our ‘Pages’ decidedly numerous in the present day, but that we also find such further particular compounds as ‘Small-page,’[209]‘Little-page,’ or ‘Cup-page’ holding anything but a precarious existence in our midst. There seems to have been but little difference between this office and that of the ‘henchman,’ only that the latter, as his name, more strictly written ‘haunchman,’ shows, attended his master’s behests out of doors. He, too, lives on hale and hearty in our ‘Henchmans,’ ‘Hinxmans,’ ‘Hincksmans,’ and ‘Hensmans.’[210]

In several of our early records of names we find ‘Peter le Folle,’ ‘Alexander le Fol,’ and ‘Johannes Stultus’ appearing in apparently honest and decent company. The old fool or jester was an important entity in the retinue of the mediæval noble. He could at least say, if he might not do, what he liked, and I am afraid the more ribald his buffoonery the greater claim he possessed to be an adept in his profession in the eyes of those who heard him. His dress was always in character with his duties, being as uncouth as fashion reversed could make it. In his hand he bore a mock rod of state, his head was surmounted by a huge cap peaked at the summit and surrounded with little jingling bells, his dress was in colour as conflicting as possible, and thetout ensembleI need not dwell upon. We still talk of a ‘foolscap,’ and even our paper has preserved the term from the fact that one of the earliest watermarks we have was that of a fool’s cap with bells. ‘Fools,’ I need not say, wherever else to be met with, are now obsolete so far as our directories are concerned.

I have just mentioned the henchman. This at once carries us without the baronial walls, and in whatever scene we are wont to regard the early suzeraine as engaging, it is remarkable how fully marked is our nomenclature with its surroundings. Several useful servitorships, however, claim our first attention. In such days as these, when the telegraph wire wasan undreamt-of mystery, and highways traversed by steam-engines would have been looked upon as something supernatural indeed, we can readily understand the importance of the official ‘Roger le Messager,’ or ‘John le Messager,’ nor need we be surprised by the frequency with which he is met. In the ‘Man of Lawes Tale’ it is said—

This messager to don his avantageUnto the Kinges mother rideth swift.

This messager to don his avantage

Unto the Kinges mother rideth swift.

Though generally found as ‘Messinger’ or ‘Massinger,’ the truer and more ancient form is not wholly obsolete.[211]But if there were no telegraphs, neither was there any regular system of postage. The name of ‘Ely le Breviter’ or ‘Peter le Brevitour’ seems to remind us of this. I do not doubt myself the ‘breviter’ was kept by his lord for the writing or conveyance of letters or brevets.[212]Piers Plowman uses the word where, of the Pardoner’s preaching, it is said—

Lewed men loved it wel,And liked his wordes,Comen up knelyngeTo kissen his bulles.He bouched them with his brevetAnd blered their eighen.[213]

Lewed men loved it wel,

And liked his wordes,

Comen up knelynge

To kissen his bulles.

He bouched them with his brevet

And blered their eighen.[213]

The signet of his lord was in the hands of the ‘Spigurnell’ or ‘Spigurell,’ both of which forms still exist, I believe, in our general nomenclature. As the sealer of all the royal writs, the king’s spigurell would have an office at once important and careful. The term itself is Saxon, its root implying that which is shut up or sealed. Our ‘Coffers,’ relics of the old ‘Ralph le Cofferer,’ or ‘John le Cofferer,’ though something occupative, were nevertheless official also, and are to be found as such in the thirteenth century. They remind us of the day when there were no such things as cheque-books, nor banks, nor a paper-money currency. Then on every expedition, be it warlike or peaceful, solid gold or silver had to be borne for the baron’s expenditure and that of his retinue; therefore none would be more important than he who superintended the transit from place to place of the chest of solid coinage set under his immediate care. Our early ‘Passavants,’ or ‘Pursevaunts,’ or more literally pursuivants, were under the direction of the ‘Herald,’or ‘Heraud,’ as Chaucer styles him, and usually preceded the royal or baronial retinue to announceits approach, and attend to such other duties of lesser importance as his superior delegated to him. In this respect he occupied a position much akin to that of the ‘Harbinger’ or ‘Herberger,’ who prepared theharborageor lodging, and all other entertainment required ere the cavalcade arrived. When we reflect upon the large number of retainers, the ceremonious list of attendants, the greater impediments to early travel, and the difficulties of forwarding information, we shall see that these officerships were by no means so formal as we might be apt to imagine. To give illustrations of all the above-mentioned surnames were easy, were it not that the number is so large that it becomes a difficulty which to select. Such entries, however, as ‘Jacob le Messager,’ ‘Godfrey le Coffrer,’ ‘Roger Passavant,’ ‘Main le Heralt,’ ‘Herbert le Herberjur,’ ‘Nicholas le Spigurnell,’ ‘Peter le Folle,’ or the Latinized ‘Johannes Stultus,’ may be recorded as among the more familiar. A reference to the Index will furnish examples of the rest, as well as additional ones of the above.

In a day when horses were of more consequence than now, we need not be surprised to find the baronial manger under special supervision. This officer figures in our mediæval archives in such entries as ‘Walter le Avenur’ or ‘William le Avenare.’[214]As his very name suggests, it was the avenar’s care to provide for the regular and sufficient feeding of the animals placed under his charge.[215]The ‘Boke of Curtayse’ tells us his duties—

The aveyner shall ordeyn provande good wonFor the lordys horsis everychon,They schyn have two cast of hay,A peck of provande on a day.

The aveyner shall ordeyn provande good won

For the lordys horsis everychon,

They schyn have two cast of hay,

A peck of provande on a day.

Elsewhere, too, the same writer says—

A maystur of horsys a squyer ther is,Aveyner and ferour under him i-wys.

A maystur of horsys a squyer ther is,

Aveyner and ferour under him i-wys.

Our ‘Palfreymans’ (‘John le Palfreyman,’ M.), though not always official, I do not doubt had duties also of a similar character in looking after the well-being of their mistress’s palfrey, and attending the lady herself when she rode to the cover, or took an airing on the more open and breezy hillside.

The two great amusements of the period we are considering were the hunt and the tournament. Of the former we have many relics, nor is the latter barren or unfruitful of terms connected therewith that still linger on in the surnames of to-day. The exciting encounters which took place in these chivalric meetings or jousts had a charm alike for the Saxon and the Norman; alike, too, for spectator as well as for him who engaged in the fierce mêlée. Training for this was by no means left to the discretion of amateur intelligence. In three several records of the thirteenth century I find such names as ‘Peter le Eskurmesur,’ ‘Henry le Eskyrmessur,’ and ‘Roger le Skirmisour.’ The root of these terms is, of course, the old French verb ‘eskirmir,’ to fence. It is thence we get ourskirmishandscrimmage, the latter form,though looked upon now as of a somewhat slang character, being found in the best of society in our earlier writers. Originally it denoted a hand-to-hand encounter between two horsemen. We still imply by a skirmish a short and sharp conflict between the advanced posts of two contending armies. As a teacher of ‘the noble art of self-defence,’[216]we can easily understand how important was the skirmisher. The name has become much corrupted by lapse of time, scarcely recognisable, in fact, in such a garb as ‘Scrimmenger,’ ‘Skrymsher,’ ‘Skrimshire,’ and perchance ‘Scrimshaw,’ forms which I find in our present London and provincial directories. Of those who were wont to engage we have already mentioned the majority. All the different grades of nobility were present, and with them were their esquires, with shield and buckler, ready to supply a fresh unsplintered lance, or a new shield, with its proudly emblazoned crest. I need scarce remind the reader of what consequence in such a day as this would be the costume of him who thus engaged in such deadly conflict. The invention of gunpowder has changed the early tactics of fight. Battles are lost and won now long ere the real mêlée has taken place. Then everything, whether in war or tournament, was settled face to face. To pierce his opponent where an inlet could admit his spear, or to unhorse him by the shock of meeting, was the knight’s one aim. The bloodiness of such an affray can be better imagined than described. We still hear of distorted features in the after inspection of the sceneof battle, but we can have no conception of the mangling that the bodies of horse and rider underwent, the inevitable result of the earlier manner of warfare. Death is mercifully quick now upon the battle-field. We have still three or four professional surnames that remind us of this. We have still our ‘Jackmans,’ or ‘Jakemans,’ as representatives of the former cavalry; so called from the ‘jack’ or coat of mail they wore. It is this latter article which has bequeathed to our youngsters of the nineteenth century their more peaceful and diminutivejacket. Thus mailed and horsed, they had to encounter the cruel onslaught of our ‘Spearmans,’ and ‘Pikemans,’ and ‘Billmans,’ names that themselves suggest how bloody would be the strife when hatchet blade, and sharp pike, and keen sword clashed together. To cover and shield the body, then, was the one thought of these early days of military tactics, and at the same time to give the fullest play to every limb and sinew. This was a work of a most careful nature, and no wonder it demanded the combined skill of several craftsmen. Such occupative sobriquets as ‘Adam le Armerer’ or ‘Simon le Armurer’ are now represented by the curter ‘Armer’ or ‘Armour.’ In the ‘Knight’s Tale’ it is said—

There were also of Martes divisionTh’ armerer, and the bowyer, and the smith,That forgeth sharpe swerdes on his stith.

There were also of Martes division

Th’ armerer, and the bowyer, and the smith,

That forgeth sharpe swerdes on his stith.

Our ‘Frobishers,’ ‘Furbishers,’ and ‘Furbers,’ once found as ‘Richard le Fourbishour’ or ‘Alan le Fourbour,’ scoured and prepared the habergeon, or jack just referred to, while ‘Gilbert le Hauberger’ or ‘John le Haubergeour’ was more immediately engagedin constructing it. Our present Authorized Version, I need hardly say, still retains the word. In ‘Sire Thopas,’ too, it is used where it is said—

And next his schert an aketoun,And over that an habergoun.

And next his schert an aketoun,

And over that an habergoun.

Our classical-looking ‘Homers’ are the naturally corrupted form of the once familiar ‘le Heaumer,’ he who fashioned the warrior’s helmet.[217]Our ‘Sworders,’ I imagine, forged him his trusty blade,[218]while our ‘Sheathers’ furnished forth its slip. Our ‘Platers’ I would suggest as makers of his cuirass, while our ‘Kissers’—far less demonstrative than they look—are but relics of such a name as ‘Richard le Kissere,’ he who manufactured hiscuishesor thigh armour, one of the most careful parts of the entire dress.[219]Lastly, our ‘Spurriers’ were there ready to supply him with his rowel, and thus in warlike guise he was prepared either for adventurous combat in behalf of the distressed damsel, or to seek favour in the eyes of her he loved in the more deadly lists.[220]

I must not forget to mention our ‘Kemps’ while upon military affairs, a general term as it was for a soldier in the days of which we are speaking. I believe the phrase ‘to go a kemping’ is still in use in the north. In the old rhyme of ‘Guy and Colbrand’ the minstrel says—

When meat and drink is great plentye,Then lords and ladys still will be,And sit and solace lythe:Then it is time for mee to speake,Of kern knightes and kempes greate,Such carping for to kythe.

When meat and drink is great plentye,

Then lords and ladys still will be,

And sit and solace lythe:

Then it is time for mee to speake,

Of kern knightes and kempes greate,

Such carping for to kythe.

How familiar a term it must have been in the common mouth the frequency with which the name is met fully shows.

Our ‘Slingers’ represent an all but forgotten profession, but they seem to have been useful enough in their day and generation. The sling was always attached to a stick, whence the old term ‘staffsling.’ Lydgate describes David as armed

With a staffe slynge, voyde of plate and mayle;

while in ‘Richard Cœur de Lion’ we are told—

Foremost he sette hys arweblasteres,And aftyr that hys good archeres,And aftyr hys staff-slyngeres,And other with scheeldes and speres.

Foremost he sette hys arweblasteres,

And aftyr that hys good archeres,

And aftyr hys staff-slyngeres,

And other with scheeldes and speres.

But we must not forget old England’s one boast, her archers, and our last quotation fitly brings them to our notice. They, too, in the battle-field and in the rural list, maintained alike their supremacy. If we would be proud of our early victories, we must ever look with veneration on the bow. ‘Bowman’ and ‘Archer’ still represent the more military professional, but not alone. Even more interesting, as speaking for the more specific crossbow or ‘arbalist,’ are our ‘Alabasters,’ ‘Arblasters,’ ‘Arblasts,’ and ‘Balsters.’ In Robert of Gloucester’s description of the reign of the Conqueror, it is said—

So great power of this land and of France he nom (took)With him into England, of knights and squires,Spearmen anote, and bowemen, and also arblasters.

So great power of this land and of France he nom (took)

With him into England, of knights and squires,

Spearmen anote, and bowemen, and also arblasters.

Chaucer, too, describing a battlement, says—

And eke within the castle wereSpringoldes, gonnes, bowes, and archers,And eke about at cornersMen seine over the wall standGrete engines, who were nere hand,And in the kernels, here and there,Of arblasters great plentie were.

And eke within the castle were

Springoldes, gonnes, bowes, and archers,

And eke about at corners

Men seine over the wall stand

Grete engines, who were nere hand,

And in the kernels, here and there,

Of arblasters great plentie were.

In the Hundred Rolls he is Latinized as ‘John Alblastarius,’ and in the York Records as ‘Thomas Balistarius.’ The Inquisitiones style him ‘Richard le Alblaster,’ while the Parliamentary Writs register him as ‘Reginald le Arblaster.’ It was to thisclass of armour our word ‘artillery’ was first applied, a fact which our Bible translators have preserved, where, in describing the meeting between David and Jonathan, they speak of the latter as giving his ‘artillery to the lad.’ Cotgrave, too, in his dictionary, printed at the beginning of the seventeenth century, has the following:—‘Artellier, a bowyer or bow-maker, also a fletcher, or one that makes both bows and arrows.’ The mention of the fletcher brings us to the more general weapon. Such an entry as the following would seem strange to the eyes of the nineteenth century:—‘To Nicolas Frost, bowman, Stephen Sedar, fletcher,[221]Ralph, the stringer, and divers others of the said mysteries, in money, paid to them, viz.:—to the aforesaid Nicholas, for 500 bows, 31l.8s.; to the aforesaid Stephen, for 1,700 sheaves of arrows, 148l.15s.; and to the aforesaid Ralph, for forty gross of bowstrings, 12l.’ (Exchequer Issues, 14 Henry IV.) This short extract in itself shows us the origin of at least three distinct surnames, viz.:—‘Bowyer,’ ‘Fletcher,’ and ‘Stringer.’ We should hardly recognise the first, however, in such entries as ‘Adam le Boghiere,’ or ‘William le Boghyere.’ ‘John le Bower’ reminds us that some of our ‘Bowers’ are similarly sprung, while ‘George le Boyer’ answers for our ‘Boyers.’ Besides these, we have ‘Robert Bowmaker’ or ‘John Bowmaykere’ to represent the fuller sobriquet. So much for the bow. Next comes the arrow. This was a very carefulpiece of workmanship. Four distinct classes of artizans were engaged in its structure, and, as we might expect, all are familiar names of to-day. ‘John le Arowsmyth’ we may set first. He confined himself to the manufacture of the arrow-head. Thus we find the following statement made in an Act passed in 1405:—‘Item, because the Arrowsmyths do make many faulty heads for arrows and quarels, it is ordained and established that all heads for arrows and quarels, after this time to be made, shall be well boiled or braised, and hardened at the points with steel.’ (Stat. Realm.)[222]‘Clement le Settere’ or ‘Alexander le Settere’[223]was busied in affixing these to the shaft, and ‘John le Tippere’ or ‘William le Tippere’ in pointing them off. Nor is this all—there is yet the feather. Of the origin of such mediæval folk as ‘Robert le Fleccher’ or ‘Ada le Fletcher,’ we are reminded by Milton, where, in describing an angel, he says—

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