Taillefer, who sang both well and loud,Came mounted on a courser proud,Before the Duke the minstrel sprung,And loud of Charles and Roland sung,Of Oliver and champions mo,Who died at fatal Roncevaux.
Taillefer, who sang both well and loud,Came mounted on a courser proud,Before the Duke the minstrel sprung,And loud of Charles and Roland sung,Of Oliver and champions mo,Who died at fatal Roncevaux.
Taillefer, who sang both well and loud,Came mounted on a courser proud,Before the Duke the minstrel sprung,And loud of Charles and Roland sung,Of Oliver and champions mo,Who died at fatal Roncevaux.
Taillefer, who sang both well and loud,
Came mounted on a courser proud,
Before the Duke the minstrel sprung,
And loud of Charles and Roland sung,
Of Oliver and champions mo,
Who died at fatal Roncevaux.
‘Roland’ was a favourite name among the higher nobility for centuries, and with our ‘Rolands,’ ‘Rowlands,’ ‘Rowlsons,’ and ‘Rowlandsons,’ bids fair to maintain its hold upon our surnames, if not the baptismal list. Old forms are found in such entries as ‘Roland le Lene,’ ‘Rouland Bloet,’ ‘William Rollandson,’ or ‘Robert Rowelyngsonne’! We must not forget, too, that our ‘Rowletts’ and ‘Rowlets’ represent the French diminutive.[22]‘Robert’ is an instance of a name which has held its place against all counter influences from the moment which first brought it into public favour. It is early made conspicuous in the eldest son of the Bastard King who, through hismiserable fate, became such an object of common pity that, though of the hated stock, his sobriquet became acceptable among the Saxons themselves. From that time its fortunes were made, even had not the bold archer of Sherwood Forest risen to the fore, and caused ‘Hob’ to be the title of every other young peasant you might meet ’twixt London and York. A curious instance of the popularity of the latter is found in the fact that a tradesman living in 1388 in Winchelsea is recorded under the name of ‘Thomas Robynhod.’ The diminutives ‘Robynet’[23]and ‘Robertot’ are obsolete, but of other forms that still thrive among us are ‘Roberts,’ ‘Robarts,’ ‘Robertson,’ ‘Robins,’ ‘Robinson,’ ‘Robison,’ and ‘Robson.’ From its shortened ‘Dob’ are ‘Dobbs,’ ‘Dobson,’ ‘Dobbins,’ ‘Dobinson,’ and ‘Dobison.’[24]From its equally familiar ‘Hob’ are ‘Hobbs,’ ‘Hobson,’ ‘Hobbins,’ ‘Hopkins,’ and ‘Hopkinson.’ From the Welsh, too, we get, as contractions of ‘Ap-robert’ and ‘Ap-robin,’ ‘Probert’ and ‘Probyn.’ Thus ‘Robert’ is not left without remembrance. Richard was scarcely less popular than Robert. Though already firmly established, for Richard was in the Norman ducal genealogy before William came over the water, still it was reserved for the Angevine monarch, as he had made it the terror of the Paynim, so to make it the pride of the English heart. Richard I. is an instance of a man’s many despicable qualities being forgotten inthe dazzling brilliance of daring deeds. He was an ungrateful son, an unkind brother, a faithless husband; but he was the idol of his time, and to him a large mass of English people of to-day owe theirnominalexistence. From the name proper we get ‘Richards’ and ‘Richardson,’ ‘Ricks’ and ‘Rix,’ ‘Rickson’ and ‘Rixon,’ or ‘Ritson,’ ‘Rickards,’ and ‘Ricketts.’[25]From the curter ‘Dick’ or ‘Diccon,’[26]we derive ‘Dicks’ or ‘Dix,’ ‘Dickson’ or ‘Dixon,’ ‘Dickens’ or ‘Diccons,’ and ‘Dickenson’ or ‘Dicconson.’ From ‘Hitchin,’ once nearly as familiar as ‘Dick,’ we get ‘Hitchins,’ ‘Hitchinson,’ ‘Hitchcock,’ and ‘Hitchcox.’ Like many another name, the number of ‘Richards’ now is out of all proportion less than these surnames would ascribe to it some centuries ago. The reason of this we shall speak more particularly about by-and-by. Roger, well known in France and Italy, found much favour in England. From it we derive our ‘Rogers,’ ‘Rodgers,’ and ‘Rogersons.’ From Hodge, its nickname, we acquired ‘Hodge,’ ‘Hodges,’ ‘Hodgkins,’ ‘Hotchkins,’ ‘Hoskins,’ ‘Hodgkinson,’ ‘Hodgson,’ and ‘Hodson,’ and through the Welsh ‘Prodger.’ The diminutive ‘Rogercock’ is found once, but it wasungainly, and I doubt not met with little favour. Reginald, as Rinaldo, immortalized by the Italian poet, appeared in Domesday as ‘Ragenald’ and ‘Rainald.’ Our ‘Reynolds,’ represent the surname. ‘Renaud’ or ‘Renard,’ can never be forgotten while there is a single fox left to display its cunning. The story seems to have been founded on the character of some real personage, but his iniquities did not frighten parents from the use of the name. ‘Renaud Balistarius’ or ‘Adam fil. Reinaud’ are common entries, and ‘Reynardsons’ and ‘Rennisons’ still exist. Our ‘Rankins,’ too, would seem to have originated from this sobriquet since ‘Gilbert Reynkin’ and ‘Richard Reynkyn’ are found in two separate rolls. Miles came into England as ‘Milo,’ that being the form found in Domesday. It was already popular with the Normans, and, like all other personal names from the same source, we find it speedily recorded in a diminutive shape, as ‘Millot’ and ‘Millet.’ ‘Roger Millot’ occurs in the Hundred Rolls, and ‘Thomas Mylett’ in a Yorkshire register of an early date. The patronymics were ‘Mills,’ ‘Miles,’ ‘Millson,’ and ‘Mileson,’[27]all of which still exist.
The great race for popularity since Domesday record has ever been that between ‘William’ and ‘John.’ In the age immediately following the Conquest ‘William’ decidedly held the supremacy. This is naturally accounted for by its royal associations. There was, indeed, a ‘John’ in the same line of descent as the Bastard from Richard I. of Normandy, but the nameseems to have been forgotten, or passed by unheeded, till it was revived again five generations later in ‘John Lackland.’ ‘William’ enjoyed better auspices. It was the name of the founder of the new monarchy. It was the name of his immediate successor. Whatever the character of these two kings, such a conjunction could not but have its weight upon the especially Norman element in the kingdom. We find in Domesday that while there are 68 ‘Williams,’ 48 ‘Roberts,’ and 28 ‘Walters,’ there are only 10 ‘Johns.’ A century later than this, ‘William’ must still have claimed precedence among the nobility at least, as is proved by a statement of Robert Montensis. He says, that at a festival held in the court of Henry II., in 1173, Sir William St. John and Sir William Fitz-Hamon, especial officers, had commanded that none but those of the name of ‘William’ should dine in the Great Chamber with them, and were, therefore, accompanied by one hundred and twenty ‘Williams,’ all knights. By the time of Edward I. this disproportion had become less marked. In a list of names connected with the county of Wiltshire in that reign, we find, out of a total of 588 decipherable names (for the record is somewhat damaged), 92 ‘Williams’ to 88 ‘Johns,’ while ‘Richard’ is credited with 55; ‘Robert,’ 48; ‘Roger,’ 23; and ‘Geoffrey,’ ‘Ralph,’ and ‘Peter,’ each 16 names. This denotes clearly that a considerable change had taken place in the popular estimation of these two appellations. Within a century after this, however, ‘John’ had evidently gained the supremacy. In 1347, we find that out of 133 Common Councilmen for London town first convened, 35 were ‘Johns,’ the next highest being 17 under the head of‘William,’ 15 under ‘Thomas,’ which now, for obvious reasons we will mention hereafter, had suddenly sprung into notoriety; 10 under ‘Richard,’ 9 under ‘Henry,’ 8 under ‘Robert,’ and so on; ending with one each for ‘Laurence,’ ‘Reynald,’ ‘Andrew,’ ‘Alan,’ ‘Giles,’ ‘Gilbert,’ and ‘Peter.’ A still greater disproportion is found forty years later; for in 1385, the Guild of St. George, at Norwich, out of a total of 376 names, possessed 128 ‘Johns’ to 47 ‘Williams’ and 41 ‘Thomases.’[28]From this period, despite the hatred that was felt for Lackland, ‘John’ kept the precedence it had won, and to this circumstance the nation owes the sobriquet it now generally receives, that of ‘John Bull.’ Long ago, however, under the offensive title of ‘Jean Gotdam,’ we had become known as a people given to strange and unpleasant oaths. It is interesting to trace the way in which ‘William’ has again recovered itself in later days. Throughout the Middle Ages it occupied a sturdy second place, fearless of any rival beyond the one that had supplanted it. Its dark hour was the Puritan Commonwealth. As a Pagan name it was rejected with horror and disdain. From the day of the Protestant settlement and William’s accession, however, it again looked up from the cold shade into which it had fallen, and now once more stands easily, as eight centuries ago, at the head of our baptismal registers. ‘John,’ on the other hand, though it had the advantage of being in no way hatefulto the Puritan conscience, has, from one reason or another, gone down in the world, and now has again resumed its early place as second.
The surnames that have descended to us from ‘William’ and ‘John’ are well-nigh numberless—far too many for enumeration here. To begin with the former, however, we find that the simple ‘Williams’ and ‘Williamson’ occupy whole pages of our directories. Besides these, we have from the curter ‘Will,’ ‘Wills,’ ‘Willis,’ and ‘Wilson;’ from the diminutive ‘Guillemot’ or ‘Gwillot,’ as it is often spelt in olden records. ‘Gillot,’ ‘Gillott,’ and ‘Gillett;’ or from ‘Williamot,’[29]the more English form of the same, ‘Willmot,’ ‘Wilmot,’ ‘Willot,’ ‘Willet,’ and ‘Willert.’ In conjunction with the pet addenda, we get ‘Wilks,’ ‘Wilkins,’ and ‘Wilkinson,’ and ‘Wilcox,’ ‘Wilcocson,’ and ‘Wilcockson.’ Lastly, we have representatives of the more corrupt forms in such names as ‘Weeks,’ ‘Wickens,’ ‘Wickenson,’ and ‘Bill’ and ‘Bilson.’ Mr. Lower, who does not quote any authority for the statement, alleges that there was an old provincial nickname for ‘William’—viz., ‘Till;’ whence ‘Tilson,’ ‘Tillot,’ ‘Tillotson,’ and ‘Tilly.’ That these are sprung from ‘Till’ is evident, but there can be no reasonable doubt that this is but the still existing curtailment of ‘Matilda,’ which, as the most familiar female name of that day, would originate many a family so entitled. ‘Tyllott Thompson’ is a name occurring in York in 1414. Thus it is to the Conqueror’s wife, and nothimself, these latter owe their rise. It is not the first time a wife’s property has thus been rudely wrenched from her for her husband’s benefit. The surnames from ‘John’ are as multifarious as is possible in the case of a monosyllable, ingenuity in the contraction thereof being thus manifestly limited. As ‘John’ simple it is very rare; but this has been well atoned for by ‘Jones,’ which, adding ‘John’ again as a prænomen, would be (as has been well said by the Registrar-General) in Wales a perpetual incognito, and being proclaimed at the cross of a market town would indicate no one in particular. Certainly ‘John Jones,’ in the Principality, is but a living contradiction to the purposes for which names and surnames came into existence. Besides this, however, we have ‘Johnson’ and ‘Jonson,’ ‘Johncock’ and ‘Jenkins,’ ‘Jennings’ and ‘Jenkinson,’ ‘Jackson’ and ‘Jacox,’ and ‘Jenks;’ which latter, however, now bids fair, under the patronage of ‘Ginx’s Baby,’ to be found for the future in a new and more quaint dress than it has hitherto worn. Besides several of the above, it is to the Welsh, also, we owe our ‘Ivens,’ ‘Evans,’ and ‘Bevans’ (i.e.Ap-Evan), which are but sprung from the same name. The Flemings, too, have not suffered their form of it to die out for lack of support; for it is with the settlement of ‘Hans,’[30]a mere abbreviationof ‘Johannes,’ we are to date the rise of our familiar ‘Hansons,’ ‘Hankins,’ ‘Hankinsons,’ and ‘Hancocks,’ or ‘Handcocks.’ Nor is this all. ‘John’ enjoyed the peculiar prerogative of being able to attach to itself adjectives of a flattering, or at least harmless nature, and issuing forth and becoming accepted by the world therewith. Thus—though we shall have to notice it again—from the praiseworthy effort to distinguish the many ‘Johns’ each community possessed, we have still in our midst such names as ‘Prujean’ and ‘Grosjean,’ ‘Micklejohn’ and ‘Littlejohn,’ ‘Properjohn’ and ‘Brownjohn,’ and last, but not least, the estimable ‘Bonjohn.’ Do we need to go on to prove ‘Jack’s’ popularity, or rather universality?[31]Every stranger was ‘Jack’ till he was found to be somebody else; so that ‘every man Jack of them’ has been a kind of general lay-baptism for ages. Every young supernumerary, whose position and age gave the licence, was in the eye of his superiors simply ‘Jack.’ As one instrument after another, however, was brought into use, by which manual service was rendered unnecessary and ‘Jack’ unneeded, instead of superannuating him he was quietly thrust into the new and inanimate office, and what with ‘boot-jacks’ and ‘black-jacks,’ ‘jack-towels’ and ‘smoke-jacks,’ ‘jacks’ for this and ‘jacks’ for that, no wonder people have begun to speak unkindly of him as ‘Jack-of-all-trades and master of none.’ Still, with this uncomplimentarytone, there was a smack of praise. A notion, at any rate, got abroad that ‘Jack’ must be a knowing, clever, sharp-witted sort of fellow, one who has his eyes open. So we got into the way of associating him with the more lively of the birds, beasts, and fishes; such, for instance, as the ‘jack-daw,’ the ‘jack-an-apes,’ and the ‘jack-pike.’ But ‘familiarity,’ as our copybooks long ago informed us, ‘breeds contempt;’ and so was it with ‘Jack’—he became a mark for ridicule. Even in Chaucer’s day ‘jack-fool’ or ‘jack-pudding’ was the synonym for a buffoon, and ‘jackass’ for a dolt; and here it but nationalises the ‘zany,’ a corruption of the Italian ‘Giovanni,’ or ‘merry-John,’ corresponding to our ‘merry-Andrew.’ ‘Jack of Dover’ also existed at the same period as a cant term for a clever knave, and that it still lived in the seventeenth century is clear from Taylor’s rhyme, where he says:—
Nor Jacke of Dover, that grand jury Jacke,Nor Jack-sauce, the worst knave amongst the pack,But of the Jacke of Jackes, great Jack-a-Lent,To write his worthy acts is my intent.[32]
Nor Jacke of Dover, that grand jury Jacke,Nor Jack-sauce, the worst knave amongst the pack,But of the Jacke of Jackes, great Jack-a-Lent,To write his worthy acts is my intent.[32]
Nor Jacke of Dover, that grand jury Jacke,Nor Jack-sauce, the worst knave amongst the pack,But of the Jacke of Jackes, great Jack-a-Lent,To write his worthy acts is my intent.[32]
Nor Jacke of Dover, that grand jury Jacke,
Nor Jack-sauce, the worst knave amongst the pack,
But of the Jacke of Jackes, great Jack-a-Lent,
To write his worthy acts is my intent.[32]
Altogether, we may claim for ‘John’ a prominent, if not distinguished, position in the annals of Englishnomenclature. Nor must we forget ‘Joan,’ until Tudor days the general form of the present ‘Jane.’ Then ‘some of the better and nicer sort,’ as Camden saith, ‘misliking the former, turned it into “Jane”;’ and in testimony of this he adds that ‘Jane’ is never found in older records. This is strictly true. There can be little doubt that when the fair queen of Henry VIII. gave distinction to the name it became a courtly fashion to give it a different form from that borne by the multitude, and thus ‘Jane’ arose. Thus ‘Joan’ was left, as Miss Yonge says, ‘to the cottage and the kitchen;’ and there, indeed, it lingered on for a long period.[33]Of many another could Shakespeare have sung:—
Then nightly sings the staring owl,To-who.To-whit, to-who, a merry note,While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Then nightly sings the staring owl,To-who.To-whit, to-who, a merry note,While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Then nightly sings the staring owl,To-who.To-whit, to-who, a merry note,While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who.
To-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Previously to this, anyway, both queens and princesses had been content with ‘Joan.’ I doubt not, with regard to several of the surnames above-mentioned, ‘John’ must, if the truth be told, share the honours of origination with ‘Joan;’ nor do I think ‘Jennison’ peculiar to the latter. What with ‘John’ and ‘Jean’ for the masculine, and ‘Joan’ and ‘Jenny’for the feminine, I do not see how the two could possibly escape confusion. ‘Jones’ and ‘Joanes,’ and ‘Jane’ and ‘Jayne,’ to say nothing of ‘Jennings,’ seem as like hereditary from the one as the other.[34]Two feminines from ‘Jack,’ viz. ‘Jacquetta’ and ‘Jacqueline,’ were not unknown in England; ‘Jacquetta Knokyn’ (AA 3), ‘Jackett Toser’ (Z). The latter was the more common, and bequeathed us a surname ‘Jacklin,’ which still exists. It is found on an old bell:—
This bell was broke and cast againe, as plainly doth appeare,John Draper made me in 1618, wich tyme churchwardens were,Edward Dixson for the one, who stood close to his tacklin,And he that was his partner there was Alexander Jacklin.(Book of Days, i. 303.)
This bell was broke and cast againe, as plainly doth appeare,John Draper made me in 1618, wich tyme churchwardens were,Edward Dixson for the one, who stood close to his tacklin,And he that was his partner there was Alexander Jacklin.(Book of Days, i. 303.)
This bell was broke and cast againe, as plainly doth appeare,John Draper made me in 1618, wich tyme churchwardens were,Edward Dixson for the one, who stood close to his tacklin,And he that was his partner there was Alexander Jacklin.(Book of Days, i. 303.)
This bell was broke and cast againe, as plainly doth appeare,
John Draper made me in 1618, wich tyme churchwardens were,
Edward Dixson for the one, who stood close to his tacklin,
And he that was his partner there was Alexander Jacklin.
(Book of Days, i. 303.)
The peasant’s leather jerkin, corresponding to the more lordly coat of mail, was ajackwhence the diminutivejacket. The more warlike dress gave rise to the name of ‘Jackman,’ of which more anon.
The Angevine dynasty gave a new impulse to some already popular names, and may be said in reality to have introduced, although not altogether unknown, several new ones. The two which owe the security of their establishment to it are ‘Geoffrey’ and ‘Fulke.’ The grandfather, the father, a brother, and a son of Henry II. were ‘Geoffrey;’ and still earlier than this, ‘Geoffrey Grisegonelle,’ ‘Geoffrey Martel,’ and ‘Geoffrey Barbu’ had each in turn set their mark upon the same. Apart from these influences, too, the stories brought home by the Crusaders of the prowess of Godfrey, the conqueror of Jerusalem, must have had their wonted effect in a day of such martial renown. Such surnames as ‘Jeffs,’ ‘Jeffries,’ ‘Jefferson,’ ‘Jeffcock,’ ‘Jeffkins,’ ‘Jephson,’ and ‘Jepson’ still record the share it had obtained in English esteem. ‘Fulke,’ or ‘Fulque,’ though there had been six so early as Domesday Book, when it came backed as it was by the fact of having given title to five Angevine rulers, got an inevitable place. Few Christian names were so common as this in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. But it was an ungainly one, difficult to pronounce, and difficult to form into a patronymic. Thus, ‘Faxson’ and ‘Fawson’ are the only longer forms I can find as at present existing, while the variously spelt ‘Fulkes,’ ‘Foulkes,’ ‘Fakes,’ ‘Faux,’ ‘Fawkes,’ ‘Faulks,’ ‘Fowkes,’ ‘Folkes,’ ‘Foakes,’ and doubtless sometimes ‘Fox,’ serve to show how hard it was to hand it down in its original integrity. The entries in our mediæval registers are equally varied. We light upon such people as ‘Fowlke Grevill,’ ‘Fowke Crompton,’ ‘Fulk Paifrer,’ ‘Fulke le Taverner,’ ‘FokeOdell,’ ‘Faukes le Buteller,’ ‘Nel Faukes,’ and ‘John Faux.’ As an English historic name it has given us two miscreants; the hateful favourite of John, outlawed by Henry III., and the still more sanguinary villain of James I.’s day, in whose dishonour we still pile up the blazing logs in the gloomy nights of November. Henry, again, or more properly speaking Harry, owes much to the Plantagenets, for but three are to be found in Domesday. With its long line of monarchs, albeit it represented a curious mixture of good, bad, and indifferent qualities, that dynasty could not but stamp itself decisively on our registers. Thus, we have still plenty of ‘Henrys,’ ‘Harrises,’ ‘Harrisons,’ ‘Hallets,’ ‘Halkets,’ ‘Hawkinses,’ and ‘Hawkinsons;’ to say nothing of the Welsh ‘Parrys’ and ‘Penrys.’[35](‘Thomas Ap-Harry,’ D. ‘Hugh Ap-harrye,’ Z.) The Norman diminutive was early used, as such folk as ‘Alicia Henriot,’ ‘Robert Henriot,’ ‘Heriot Heringflet,’ ‘Thomas Haryette,’ or ‘William Haryott’ could have borne witness. ‘Harriot,’ or ‘Harriet,’ has been revived in recent days as a feminine baptismal name. ‘Hawkin,’ or ‘Halkin,’[36]however, was perhaps the most popular form. Langland represents Conscience as saying:—
Thi beste cote, Haukyn,Hath manye moles and spottes,It moste ben y-wasshe.
Thi beste cote, Haukyn,Hath manye moles and spottes,It moste ben y-wasshe.
Thi beste cote, Haukyn,Hath manye moles and spottes,It moste ben y-wasshe.
Thi beste cote, Haukyn,
Hath manye moles and spottes,
It moste ben y-wasshe.
Baldwin had already appeared at the Conquest, for an aunt of William’s had married Baldwin, Earl of Flanders, and he himself was espoused to Matilda, daughter of the fifth ‘Baldwin’ of that earldom. No doubt the Flemings brought in fresh accessions, and when we add to this the fact of its being by no means an unpopular Angevine name, we can readily see why ‘Balderson,’ ‘Bolderson,’ ‘Balcock,’ ‘Bodkin,’ and the simple ‘Baldwin,’ have maintained a quiet but steady position in the English lists ever since. Thus, the Plantagenets are not without memorials, even in the nineteenth century.
It is to Norman influence we owe the firm establishment of several names, which had already got securely settled on the Continent on account of the odour of sanctity that had gathered about them. The Reformation threw into the shade of oblivion the memories of many holy men and women who in their day and generation exercised a powerful influence on our general nomenclature. Many of my readers will be unaware that there were three St. Geralds and three St. Gerards held in high repute previous to the eleventh century. The higher Norman families seem to have been attached to both, though ‘Gerard’ has made the deepest impression. ‘Gerald’ and ‘Fitz-Gerald’ are the commonest descendants of the first. As respects ‘Gerard,’ such names as ‘Garret Widdrington,’or ‘Jarrarde Hall,’ or ‘Jarat Nycholson,’ found among our Yorkshire entries, serve to show how far the spirit of verbal corruption can advance; and our many ‘Garrets,’ ‘Jarrets,’ ‘Jarratts,’ and ‘Jerards,’ as surnames, will probably testify the same to all ages.[37]As there were twenty-eight ‘Walters’ in Domesday Survey, we cannot attribute the popularity of that name to St. Walter, abbot of Fontenelle in the middle of the twelfth century. But, as Miss Yonge shows, it had been spread over Aquitaine in the earlier part of the tenth century, through the celebrity of a saintly Walter who resided in that dukedom about the year 990. Few sobriquets enjoyed such a share of attention as this. In one of its nicknames, that of ‘Water,’[38]we are reminded of Suffolk’s death in Shakespeare’sHenry VI., where the murderer says—
My name is Walter Whitmore.How now! why start’st thou? What, doth death affright!Suffolk.Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death.A cunning man did calculate my birth,And told me that bywaterI should die.
My name is Walter Whitmore.How now! why start’st thou? What, doth death affright!Suffolk.Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death.A cunning man did calculate my birth,And told me that bywaterI should die.
My name is Walter Whitmore.How now! why start’st thou? What, doth death affright!Suffolk.Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death.A cunning man did calculate my birth,And told me that bywaterI should die.
My name is Walter Whitmore.
How now! why start’st thou? What, doth death affright!
Suffolk.Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death.
A cunning man did calculate my birth,
And told me that bywaterI should die.
University men will remember a play of another kind upon its other form of ‘Wat,’ in the poems of C. S. C., whose power of rhyming, at least, I have never seen surpassed, even by Ingoldsby himself. He thus begins one of his happiest efforts—
Ere the morn the east has crimsoned,When the stars are twinkling there,(As they did in Watts’s Hymns, andMade him wonder what they were.)
Ere the morn the east has crimsoned,When the stars are twinkling there,(As they did in Watts’s Hymns, andMade him wonder what they were.)
Ere the morn the east has crimsoned,When the stars are twinkling there,(As they did in Watts’s Hymns, andMade him wonder what they were.)
Ere the morn the east has crimsoned,
When the stars are twinkling there,
(As they did in Watts’s Hymns, and
Made him wonder what they were.)
This, too, it will be seen, as well as ‘Water,’ still abides with us in its own or an extended guise, for our ‘Watts’ and ‘Waters,’ ‘Watsons’ and ‘Watersons,’ ‘Watkins’ and ‘Watkinsons,’ would muster strongly if in conclave assembled. Our ‘Waltrots,’ though not so numerous, are but the ancient ‘Walterot.’ As a Christian name Walter stands low now-a-days. ‘Tonkin,’ ‘Tonson,’ and ‘Townson’ (found in such an entry as ‘Jane Tounson’) remind us of ‘Anthony,’[39]a name previous to the Reformation popular as that possessed by the great ascetic of the fourth century. A curious phrase got connected with St. Anthony, that of ‘tantony-pig.’ It is said that monks attached to monasteries dedicated to this saint had the privilege of allowing their swine to feed in the streets. These habitually following those who were wont to offer greens to them, gave rise to the expression, ‘To follow like a Tantony-pig.’ Thus, in ‘The good wyfe wold a pylgremage,’ it is said—
When I am out of the towne,Look that thou be wyse,And run thou not from hous to hous,Like a nantyny grice.
When I am out of the towne,Look that thou be wyse,And run thou not from hous to hous,Like a nantyny grice.
When I am out of the towne,Look that thou be wyse,And run thou not from hous to hous,Like a nantyny grice.
When I am out of the towne,
Look that thou be wyse,
And run thou not from hous to hous,
Like a nantyny grice.
The connection between St. Anthony and swine, which gave the good monks this benefit, seems, in spite of many wild guesses, to have arisen from themere fact of his dwelling so long in the woodlands. As Barnabe Googe has it—
The bristled hogges doth AntoniePreserve and cherish well,Who in his lifetime always didIn woodes and forestes dwell.[40]
The bristled hogges doth AntoniePreserve and cherish well,Who in his lifetime always didIn woodes and forestes dwell.[40]
The bristled hogges doth AntoniePreserve and cherish well,Who in his lifetime always didIn woodes and forestes dwell.[40]
The bristled hogges doth Antonie
Preserve and cherish well,
Who in his lifetime always did
In woodes and forestes dwell.[40]
It must have been this connexion which made ‘Tony’ the common sobriquet for a simpleton or a country clown. It lived in this sense till Dryden’s day, and certainly had become such so early as the thirteenth century, if we may judge by the occurrence of such names as ‘Ida le Tony,’ or ‘Roger le Tony,’ found in the Rolls of that period.[41]If, however, St. Anthony was thus doomed to be an example, how great may be the drawbacks to saintly distinction: ‘St. Cuthbert,’ who, in the odour of sanctity, dwelt at Lindisfarne, may even be more pitied, for, owing to the familiarity of his name in every rustic household of Northumbria and Durham, he became as ‘Cuddie,’ a sobriquet for the donkey, and is thus known and associated to the present moment. Our ‘Cuthberts,’ ‘Cuthbertsons,’ and ‘Cutbeards,’ however, need troublethemselves little, I imagine, on the question of their connection with the animal to whom we usually ascribe the honours in regard to obstinacy and stubbornness. Our ‘Cuddies,’ perhaps, are not quite so free from suspicion. Our ‘Cobbets’ undoubtedly spring from ‘Cuthbert.’ A ‘Nicholas Cowbeytson’ occurs in a Yorkshire register of the fourteenth century (Fabric Rolls of York Minster: Sur. Soc.). From ‘Cowbeyt’ to ‘Cobbet’ is a natural—I might say an inevitable—change. This name, however, owes nothing to the Normans. Not so ‘Giles.’ Everyone knows the story of St. Giles, how he dwelt as an anchorite in the forest near Nismes, and was discovered by the King because the hind, which daily gave him milk, pushed in the chase, fled to his feet. The name is entered in our rolls alike as ‘Giles,’ ‘Gile,’ and ‘Egedius’ (Gile Deacon. A. Jordan fil. Egidius, A). St. Lawrence, put on a gridiron over a slow fire in the third century, made his name popular in Spain. An archbishop of Canterbury, raised to a saintship in the seventh century, made the same familiar in England. Besides ‘Lawson,’ we have ‘Larkins’ and ‘Larson.’ In the lines already quoted relative to Wat Tyler’s insurrection, it is said—
Larkinet in medio, non minor esse putat.
Larkinet in medio, non minor esse putat.
Larkinet in medio, non minor esse putat.
Larkinet in medio, non minor esse putat.
The French diminutive occurs also. An ‘Andrew Larrett’ is mentioned by Nicholls in his history of Leicestershire, and the surname may still be seen in our directories. ‘Lambert’ received a large accession in England through the Flemings, who thus preserved a memorial of the patron of Liege, St. Lambert, who was martyred early in the eighth century. Succumbingto the fashion so prevalent among the Flemings, it is generally found as ‘Lambkin,’ such entries as ‘Lambekyn fil. Eli’ or ‘Lambekin Taborer’ being common. The present surnominal forms are ‘Lambert,’ ‘Lampson,’[42]‘Lambkin,’ and ‘Lampkin.’ Thus our ‘Lambkins’ cannot boast of the Moses-like disposition of their ancestor on philological grounds. With the mention of three other saints we conclude this list. The legend of St. Christopher had its due effect on the popular taste, and it is early found in the various guises of ‘Cristophre,’ ‘Cristofer,’ and ‘Christofer.’ ‘Christophers’ and ‘Christopherson’ represent the surnames of the fuller form. To the pet form we owe our ‘Kitts’ and ‘Kitsons.’ St. Christopher’s Isle in the West Indies is now familiarly St. Kitts. It was of the indignity offered to Christopher Marlowe’s genius in calling him so generally by this brief sobriquet that Heywood spoke when he said—
Marlowe, renowned for his rare art and wit,Could ne’er attain beyond the name of Kit.[43]
Marlowe, renowned for his rare art and wit,Could ne’er attain beyond the name of Kit.[43]
Marlowe, renowned for his rare art and wit,Could ne’er attain beyond the name of Kit.[43]
Marlowe, renowned for his rare art and wit,
Could ne’er attain beyond the name of Kit.[43]
The same writer has it also in one of his epigrams—
Nothing is lighter than a feather, Kytte,Yes, Climme: what light thing is that? thy light wytte.
Nothing is lighter than a feather, Kytte,Yes, Climme: what light thing is that? thy light wytte.
Nothing is lighter than a feather, Kytte,Yes, Climme: what light thing is that? thy light wytte.
Nothing is lighter than a feather, Kytte,
Yes, Climme: what light thing is that? thy light wytte.
We have already mentioned one abbot of Fontenelle who influenced our nomenclature. Another who exerted a similar power was ‘St. Gilbert,’ a contemporary and friend of the Conqueror. A few generationsafterwards brought the English St. Gilbert to the fore, and then the name began to grow common, so common that as ‘Gib’ it became the favourite sobriquet of the feline species.[44]In several of our earliest writers it is found in familiar use, and in the Bard of Avon’s day it was not forgotten. Falstaff complains of being as melancholy as a ‘gib-cat’—that is, an old worn-out cat. Hamlet also says—
For who that’s but a queen, fair, sober, wise,Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,Such dear concernings hide? (iii. 4.)
For who that’s but a queen, fair, sober, wise,Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,Such dear concernings hide? (iii. 4.)
For who that’s but a queen, fair, sober, wise,Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,Such dear concernings hide? (iii. 4.)
For who that’s but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,
Such dear concernings hide? (iii. 4.)
‘To play the gib’ was a proverbial phrase for light and wanton behaviour.[45]Thus ‘Gilbert’ has been forced into a somewhat unpleasant notoriety in feline nomenclature. But he was popular enough, too, among the human kind. In that part of the ‘Townley Mysteries’ which represents the Nativity, one of the shepherds is supposed to hail one of his friends, who is passing by. He addresses him thus:—
How, Gyb, good morne, wheder goys thou?
How, Gyb, good morne, wheder goys thou?
How, Gyb, good morne, wheder goys thou?
How, Gyb, good morne, wheder goys thou?
The surnames formed from Gilbert, too, prove his popularity. Beside ‘Gilbert’ himself, we have ‘Gibbs,’ ‘Gibbins,’ ‘Gibbons,’ ‘Gibson,’[46]‘Gibbonson,’ and ‘Gipps,’ to say nothing of that famous citizen of credit and renown, ‘John Gilpin,’ who has immortalized at least his setting of this good old-fashioned name.
Having referred to Gilbert and Gib the cat, we must needs notice ‘Theobald’ and ‘Tib.’ ‘St. Theobald,’ if he has not himself given much prominence to the title, nevertheless represents a name whose susceptibility to change was something amazing. The common form with the French was ‘Thibault’ or ‘Thibaud,’ and this is represented in England in such entries as ‘Tebald de Engleschevile,’ ‘Richard Tebaud,’ or ‘Roger Tebbott.’ A still curter form was ‘Tibbe’ or ‘Tebbe;’ hence such registrations as ‘Tebbe Molendinarius’ or ‘Tebb fil. William.’ In this dress it is found in the Latin lines commemorative of Tyler’s insurrection:—
Huddeferit, quemJuddeterit, dumTibbejuvatur,Jackedomosque viros vellit, en ense necat.
Huddeferit, quemJuddeterit, dumTibbejuvatur,Jackedomosque viros vellit, en ense necat.
Huddeferit, quemJuddeterit, dumTibbejuvatur,Jackedomosque viros vellit, en ense necat.
Huddeferit, quemJuddeterit, dumTibbejuvatur,
Jackedomosque viros vellit, en ense necat.
Among other surnames that speak for its faded popularity are ‘Tibbes,’ ‘Tebbes,’ and ‘Tubbs,’ ‘Theobald’ and ‘Tibbald,’ ‘Tibble’ and ‘Tipple,’ ‘Tipkins’ and ‘Tippins,’ and ‘Tipson,’ and our endlessly varied ‘Tibbats,’ ‘Tibbets,’ ‘Tibbits,’ ‘Tebbatts,’ ‘Tebbotts,’ and ‘Tebbutts.’ Indeed, the name has simply run riot among the vowels. ‘Hugh’ I have kept till thelast, because of its important position as an early name. It was crowded with holy associations. There was a ‘St. Hugh,’ Abbot of Cluny, in 1109. There was a ‘St. Hugh,’ Bishop of Grenoble, in 1132. There was ‘St. Hugh,’ Bishop of Lincoln, in 1200, and above all there was the celebrated infant martyr, ‘St. Hugh,’ of Lincoln, said to have been crucified by the Jews of that city in 1250. This event happened just at the best time for affecting our surnames. Their hereditary tendency was becoming marked. Thus it is that ‘Hugh,’ or ‘Hew,’[47]as it was generally spelt, has made such an indenture upon our nomenclature. The pet forms are all Norman-French, the most popular being ‘Huet,’ ‘Hugon,’ and ‘Huelot,’ the last formed like ‘Hamelot,’ and ‘Hobelot.’ The second of these was further corrupted by the English into ‘Hutchin’ and ‘Huggin.’[48]Hence our rolls teem with such registrations as ‘Hewe Hare,’ ‘Huet de Badone,’ ‘William fil. Hugonis,’ ‘Houlot de Manchester,’ ‘Walter Hughelot,’ ‘John Hewisson,’ ‘Simon Howissone,’ ‘Roger fil. Hulot,’ or ‘Alan Huchyns.’ Among the surnames still common in our directories may be numbered ‘Huggins,’ ‘Hutchins,’ ‘Hutchinson,’ ‘Hugginson,’ ‘Howlett,’ ‘Hullett,’ ‘Hewlett,’ ‘Huet,’ ‘Hewet,’ ‘Hewetson,’ ‘Howett,’ ‘Howson,’ ‘Hughes,’ and ‘Hewson.’ All these various forms bespeak a familiarity which is now of course utterlywanting, so far as our Christian nomenclature is concerned. Indeed, after all I have said, I still feel that it is impossible to give the reader an adequate conception of the popularity of this name four hundred years ago. It is one more conspicuous instance marking the change which the Reformation and an English Bible effected upon our nomenclature.
We may here refer to a group of appellatives which are derived from the names of certain days and seasons. I dare not say that all I shall mention are absolutely sprung from one and the same custom. Some, I doubt not, were bestowed upon their owners from various accidental circumstances of homely and individual interest. Neighbours would readily affix a nickname of this class upon one who had by some creditable or mean action made a particular season remarkable in his personal history. But these, I presume, will be exceptional, for there is no manner of doubt that it was a practice, and by no means a rare one, to baptize a child by the name of the day on which it was born, especially if it were a holiday. We know now how often it happens that the Church Calendar furnishes names for those born upon the Saints’ days—how many ‘Johns’ and ‘Jameses’ and ‘Matthews’ owe their appellations to the fact that they came into the world upon the day marked, ecclesiastically, for the commemoration of those particular Apostles. This is still a custom among more rigid Churchmen. In early days, however, it wascarried to an extreme extent. Days of a simply local interest—days for fairs and wakes—days that were celebrated in the civil calendar—days that were the boundaries of the different seasons—all were familiarly pressed into the service of name-giving. These, springing up in a day when they were no sooner made part of the personal than they became candidates for our hereditary nomenclature, have in many cases come down to us. Thus, the time when the yule log blazed and crackled on the hearth has given us ‘Christmas,’ or ‘Noel,’ or ‘Yule,’ or ‘Midwinter.’ This last seems to have been an ordinary term for the day, for we find it in colloquial use at this time. In Robert of Gloucester’s ‘Life of William the Conqueror,’ he speaks of it’s being his intention
to Midwinter at Gloucester,To Witesontid at Westminster, to Ester at Wincester.
to Midwinter at Gloucester,To Witesontid at Westminster, to Ester at Wincester.
to Midwinter at Gloucester,To Witesontid at Westminster, to Ester at Wincester.
to Midwinter at Gloucester,
To Witesontid at Westminster, to Ester at Wincester.
‘Pentecost’ was as familiar a term in the common mouth as ‘Whitsuntide,’ and thus we find both occurring in the manner mentioned. ‘Wytesunday’ is, however, now obsolete; ‘Pentecost’ still lives.[49]‘Paske,’ for ‘Easter,’ was among the priesthood the word in general use; old writers always speak of ‘Paske’ for that solemn season. Thus, ‘Pask,’ ‘Pash,’ ‘Paschal,’ and ‘Pascal’[50]are firmly set in our directories;as, indeed, they are on the Continent also. It is the same with ‘Lammas,’ ‘Sumption,’ and ‘Middlemas;’ that is, ‘Assumption’ and ‘Michaelmas.’ Each as it came round imprinted its name at the baptismal font upon the ancestors of all those who still bear these several titles in our midst. It would be an anachronism, therefore, to suppose Mr. Robinson Crusoe to have been the first who introduced this system, as even ‘Friday’ itself, to say nothing of ‘Munday,’ or ‘Monday,’ and ‘Saturday,’ and ‘Tuesday,’ were all surnames long anterior to that notable personage’s existence. Nor, as I have said, are the less solemn feast days disregarded. ‘Loveday’ is one such proof. In olden times there was often a day fixed for the arrangement of differences, in which, if possible, old sores were to be healed up and old-standing accounts settled. This day, called a ‘Loveday,’ is frequently alluded to. That very inconsistent friar in Piers Plowman’s Vision could, it is said—
hold lovedays,And hear a reves rekenyng.
hold lovedays,And hear a reves rekenyng.
hold lovedays,And hear a reves rekenyng.
hold lovedays,
And hear a reves rekenyng.
The latter part of the quotation suggests to us the origin of ‘Termday,’ which I find as existing in the twelfth century, and probably given in the humorous spirit of that day.[51]Nor are these all. ‘Plouday’ wasthe first Monday after Twelfth Night, and the day on which the farmer began his ploughing. It was a great rural holiday at one time, and the ploughmen as a rule got gloriously drunk. Similarly, we have ‘Hockerday,’ ‘Hockday,’ and perhaps the still more corrupted ‘Hobday,’ the old English expression for a ‘high-day.’ The second Tuesday after Easter was especially so termed, and kept in early times as such, as commemorative of the driving out of the Danes in the days of Ethelred. This was a likely name to be given on such a high day in the domestic annals as that on which the first-born came into the world. Happy parents would readily seize upon this at a time when the word and its meaning were alike familiar. Our ‘Hallidays’ or ‘Hollidays’ throw us back to the Church festivals, those times of merriment and jollity which have helped to such a degree to dissociate from our minds the real meaning of the word (that is, a day set apart for holy service in commemoration of some religious event), that we have now been compelled by a varied spelling to make the distinction between a ‘holyday’ and a ‘holiday.’ Thus strongly marked upon our nomenclature is this once favourite but now well-nigh obsolete custom.
We may here briefly refer to a class of patronymics which, although small from the first, took its place, as if insensibly, among our hereditary surnames. It is a class ofoccupativeorprofessionalnames, with the filial desinence attached. There is nothing wonderfulin the fact of the existence of such. The wonder is that there are not more of them. It must have been all but as natural to style a man as the son of ‘the Clerk’ as the son of ‘Harry’ in a small community, where the father had, in his professional capacity, established himself as of some local importance. Hence we cannot be surprised to find ‘Clerkson’ in our registers. It is thus the ‘sergeant’ has bequeathed us our ‘Sergeantsons;’ the ‘kemp,’ or soldier, our ‘Kempsons;’ the ‘cook,’ our ‘Cooksons,’ or ‘Filius Coci,’ as the Hundred Rolls have it; the ‘smith,’ our ‘Smithsons;’ the ‘steward,’ our ‘Stewardsons;’ the ‘grieve,’i.e.‘reeve,’ our ‘Grievesons;’ the ‘miller,’ our ‘Millersons;’ and the ‘shepherd,’ our ‘Shepherdsons.’ Of other instances, now obsolete, we had ‘Masterson,’ ‘Hyneson,’[52]‘Hopperson,’ ‘Scolardson,’ and ‘Priestson.’ Nor were the Normans without traces of this practice, although in their case all the examples I have met with have ceased to exist amongst us. ‘Fitz-Clerk’ but corresponds with one of the above; while the warden of the woods gave us ‘Fitz-Parker,’ and that of the college, ‘Fitz-Provost.’ Thus, those who yet possess names of this class may congratulate themselves upon belonging to a small but compact body which has ever existed amid our more general nomenclature.
We have already mentioned Joan as having bequeathed several surnames. We did not then allude to the somewhat difficult subject of metronymics;we shall first prove by examples that there are a large number of such. We shall then briefly unfold their origin from our point of view. The feminine of Peter, ‘Petronilla,’ was a name in familiar use at this time. St. Petronilla, once much besought as a help against fevers, would no doubt add to its popularity. Barnyby Googe says:—