It was the fourth day after Mrs Easy's confinement that Mr Easy, who
was sitting by her bedside in an easy-chair, commenced as follows: "I
have been thinking, my dear Mrs Easy, about the name I shall give this
child."
"Name, Mr Easy! why, what name should you give it but your own?"
"Not so, my dear," replied Mr Easy; "they call all names proper names,
but I think that mine is not. It is the very worst name in the
calendar."
"Why, what's the matter with it, Mr Easy?"
"The matter affects me as well as the boy. Nicodemus is a long name to
write at full length, and Nick is vulgar. Besides, as there will be two
Nicks, they will naturally call my boy young Nick, and of course I shall
be styled old Nick, which will be diabolical."
"Well, Mr Easy, at all events then let me choose the name."
"That you shall, my dear, and it was with this view that I have
mentioned the subject so early."
"I think, Mr Easy, I will call the boy after my poor father--his name
shall be Robert."
"Very well, my dear, if you wish it, it shall be Robert. You shall have
your own way. But I think, my dear, upon a little consideration, you
will acknowledge that there is a decided objection."
"An objection, Mr Easy?"
"Yes, my dear; Robert may be very well, but you must reflect upon the
consequences; he is certain to be called Bob."
"Well, my dear, and suppose they do call him Bob?"
"I cannot bear even the supposition, my dear. You forget the county in
which we are residing, the downs covered with sheep."
"Why, Mr Easy, what can sheep have to do with a Christian name?"
"There it is; women never look to consequences. My dear, they have a
great deal to do with the name of Bob. I will appeal to any farmer in
the county, if ninety-nine shepherds' dogs out of one hundred are not
called Bob. Now observe, your child is out of doors somewhere in the
fields or plantations; you want and you call him. Instead of your
child, what do you find? Why, a dozen curs at least, who come running
up to you, all answering to the name of Bob, and wagging their stumps of
tails. You see, Mrs Easy, it is a dilemma not to be got over. You
level your only son to the brute creation by giving him a Christian name
which, from its peculiar brevity, has been monopolised by all the dogs
in the county. Any other name you please, my dear, but in this one
instance you must allow me to lay my positive veto."
"Well, then, let me see--but I'll think of it, Mr Easy; my head aches
very much just now."
"I will think for you, my dear. What do you say to John?"
"Oh, no, Mr Easy, such a common name?"
"A proof of its popularity, my dear. It is scriptural--we have the
apostle and the baptist--we have a dozen popes who were all Johns. It
is royal--we have plenty of kings who were Johns--and, moreover, it is
short, and sounds honest and manly."
"Yes, very true, my dear; but they will call him Jack."
"Well, we have had several celebrated characters who were Jacks. There
was--let me see--Jack the Giant Killer, and Jack of the Bean Stalk--and
Jack--Jack--"
"Jack Spratt," replied Mrs Easy.
"And Jack Cade, Mrs Easy, the great rebel--and three-fingered Jack,
Mrs Easy, the celebrated negro--and, above all, Jack Falstaff, ma'am,
Jack Falstaff--honest Jack Falstaff--witty Jack Falstaff--"
"I thought, Mr Easy, that I was to be permitted to choose the name."
"Well, so you shall, my dear; I give it up to you. Do just as you
please; but depend upon it that John is the right name. Is it not now,
my dear?"
"It's the way you always treat me, Mr Easy; you say that you give it
up, and that I shall have my own way, but I never do have it. I am sure
that the child will be christened John."
"Nay, my dear, it shall be just what you please. Now I recollect it,
there were several Greek emperors who were Johns; but decide for
yourself, my dear."
"No, no," replied Mrs Easy, who was ill, and unable to contend any
longer, "I give it up, Mr Easy. I know how it will be, as it always
is: you give me my own way as people give pieces of gold to children,
it's their own money, but they must not spend it. Pray call him John."
"There, my dear, did not I tell you, you would be of my opinion upon
reflection? I knew you would. I have given you your own way, and you
tell me to call him John; so now we're both of the same mind, and that
point is settled."
"I should like to go to sleep, Mr Easy; I feel far from well."
"You shall always do just as you like, my dear," replied the husband,
"and have your own way in everything. It is the greatest pleasure I
have when I yield to your wishes. I will walk in the garden. Good-bye,
my dear."
Mrs Easy made no reply, and the philosopher quitted the room. As may
easily be imagined, on the following day the boy was christened John.