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?
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:—
_Hudde_ ferit, quem _Judde_ terit, dum _Tibbe_ juvatur,
_Jacke_ domosque 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 the last, 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 utterly
wanting, 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.
IV.—_Names chosen from Festivals and Holydays._
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 was carried 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.
‘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.
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’ was
the 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.
V.—_Patronymics formed from Occupations._
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 of _occupative_ or _professional_
names, with the filial desinence attached. There is nothing wonderful in
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.
VI.—_Metronymics._
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:—
The quartane ague and the rest
Doth Pernel take away,
And John preserves his worshippers
From prison every day.
In the above stanza we are supplied with the common sobriquet taken from
his name. As ‘Pernel’ or ‘Parnel’ it held a high place among the poorer
classes. From an ill-repute, however, that attached to it in the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, it is now all but extinct as a
Christian name, and it is only among our surnames that it is to be met
with. It is curious how associations of this kind destroy the chances of
popularity among names. ‘Peter’ was forced into familiarity. ‘Pernel’
lost caste through its becoming a cant term for women of a certain
character. ‘Magdalen’ is another case in point. The Bible narrative
describes her briefly as a penitent sinner. Legend, adding to this,
portrayed her beauty, her golden tresses, her rich drapery. Art added
touches of its own in the shape of dishevelled hair and swelled eyes,
but all to make this centre scene of penitence the more marked. This,
and the early asylums for penitents, of which she became the forced
patroness, prevented her name being used as a Christian name at this
time—I have never, at least, found an instance. But as a proof how early
it had become a term for what I may call mental inebriety, a connection
which of course it owes to the portrayals alluded to above, I may
instance the name of Thomas le Maddelyn, found in the twelfth century
(H.R.), and an evident nickname given to one of a sickly sentimental
character. Our present ‘Maudlins’ and ‘Maudlings’ may be descended from
one so entitled, or locally from some place dedicated to the saint.
Among other female names, ‘Constance’ bid fair to become very popular. A
daughter of William the Conqueror, a daughter of Stephen, and a
daughter-in-law of Henry II. were all so called. Chaucer in his ‘Man of
Lawes Tale’ calls his heroine by this title—
But Hermegild loved Custance as her life,
And Custance hath so long sojourned there
In orisons, with many a bitter tear,
Til Jesu hath converted, through his grace,
Dame Hermegild.
This must have been its favourite form in the common mouth, for we find
it recorded in such names as ‘Custance Muscel,’ ‘Custance Clerk,’
‘Robert fil. Custe,’ or ‘Cus nepta Johannis,’ with tolerable frequency.
The diminutive ‘Cussot’ is also to be met with. I need hardly say that
in our ‘Custances,’ ‘Custersons,’ ‘Cuss’s,’ and ‘Custs,’ not to say some
of our ‘Cousens,’ as corruptions of ‘Custson,’ the remembrance of this
once familiar name still survives. Of late years the name proper has
again become popular. ‘Beatrice’ is another instance of a name once
common sunk into comparative desuetude. The Norman ‘Beton’ was the most
favoured pet form. Piers Plowman says (Passus V.):—
Beton the Brewestere bade him good-morrow,
and a little further on,
And bade Bette cut a bough, and beat Betoun therewith.
Thus it is we frequently light upon such entries as ‘John Betyn,’ ‘Betin
de Friscobald,’ ‘Robert Betonson,’ ‘John Bettenson,’ or ‘Thomas
Betanson.’ These latter of course soon dropped into ‘Beatson’ and
‘Betson,’ which, with ‘Beton’ and ‘Beaton,’ are still common to our
directories. ‘Emma,’ too, as a Norman name has left its mark. By a pure
accident, however, as Miss Yonge points out, it had got a place previous
to the Conquest among the Saxons, through the fact of the daughter of
Richard I. of Normandy marrying first Ethelred, surnamed the Unready,
and then Canute the Great. Thus, though it has not unfrequently been
claimed as of Saxon origin, it is not so in reality. The general
spelling is ‘Emme,’ and the pet ‘Emmot’ or ‘Emmet’ is found in such
names as ‘Emmota Plummer’ or ‘Emmetta Catton.’ This at once guides us
into the source of our ‘Emmots,’ ‘Emmetts,’[53] ‘Emmes,’ ‘Emsons,’
‘Empsons,’ and ‘Emmotsons.’[54]
Almost as equal a favourite as ‘Emma’ was ‘Cecilia.’ This was a name
introduced at the Conquest in the person of Cecile, a daughter of
William I., and it soon found itself a favourite among high and low as
‘Cicely,’ or still shorter as ‘Cis’ or ‘Sis,’ although the latter seems
to have been the more general form. In Piers Plowman, however, is
preserved the more correct initial. I have already quoted him when he
speaks so familiarly of
Cesse the souteresse.
In all the ballads of the seventeenth century, on the other hand, it is
always ‘Sis,’ ‘Siss’ or ‘Sys.’
Long have I lived a bachelor’s life,
And had no mind to marry;
But now I would fain have a wife,
Either Doll, Kate, Sis, or Mary.
Our ‘Sissons,’ ‘Sysons,’ and ‘Sisselsons’[55] are of course but the
offspring of this pretty appellative, while one more instance of the
popular diminutive may be met with in such a name as ‘John Sissotson’ or
‘Cissota West’ found in the ‘Testamenta Eboracensia,’ or ‘Bella
Cesselot’ in the Hundred Rolls.[56] Our ‘Dowses,’ ‘Dossons,’ and
‘Dowsons’ represent the once popular ‘Douce,’ ‘Duce,’ or ‘Dulce,’ more
correctly ‘Dulcia.’ Hence we find such entries as ‘John filius Dousæ,’
‘Douce de Moster,’ and ‘John Dowsson.’ Diminutives are found in ‘Richard
Dowkin’ (F), and in ‘Dowsett,’ ‘Doucett,’ and ‘Duckett.’ The Norman was
the more familiar form, all the more so perhaps because in the baronial
kitchen a course of sweets was called _dowcetts_. An instance will be
found in the Rutland papers, p. 97 (Cam. Soc.). This is but another form
of our ‘dulcet.’ That the more literal form was not lost, such names as
‘Dulcia le Draper’ or ‘Dulcia fil. William’ will show, not to mention
our still existing patronymic ‘Dulson.’ The later ‘Dulcibella’ underwent
the same change and became ‘Dowsabell.’ This also attained the rank of a
surname, for beside such entries as ‘Dowzable Mill’ (Z) and ‘Dussabel
Caplyn’ (Z) we light upon a ‘Thomas Duszabell’ (M). Thus familiar was
‘Dulcia’ in former days. ‘Dionisia del Lee’ or ‘Dionisius Garston’ are
common entries, both masculine and feminine forms being popular.
‘Dennis,’ ‘Denot,’ and ‘Dyot’ were the pet forms. Piers Plowman styles
one of his characters ‘Denot.’ Hereditary forms are found in ‘Dennis,’
‘Dennison,’ ‘Dyott,’ ‘Diotson,’[57] and ‘Dyson.’ I cannot but think that
‘Tenison’ or ‘Tennyson’ is but a corruption of ‘Dennison,’ as also
‘Tyson’ of ‘Dyson.’ That they are patronymics of Antony (Tony) is the
only alternative, and this I fear is unsatisfactory. Mabel, although now
somewhat out of fashion, was very popular four hundred years ago as
‘Amabilla,’ hence such entries as ‘Amabella la Blund,’ or ‘Amabil fil.
Emme.’ The surnames descended from it are sufficiently numerous to
testify to this. Besides ‘Mabell’ simple, we have ‘Mabson,’ ‘Mabbs,’
‘Mabbes,’ ‘Mabbott,’ and perhaps ‘Mapleson.’[58] Catharine, always
called ‘Catlin’ in the North, reminding us of the Irish ‘Kathleen,’ is
the source of several surnames. Entries like ‘Eleonore Catlynson’ (W.
12) or ‘Thomas Katlynson’ (W. 11) are common, and the shorter ‘Cattlin’
is found in every Yorkshire roll.
There is a certain quaint prettiness about ‘Hilary,’ ‘Lettice,’ and
‘Joyce,’ three acceptable cognomens in mediæval times. The Normans liked
their women to be, however modest, none the less lighthearted, gay, and
spirited, and in the synonyms of ‘mirth,’ ‘gladness,’ and
‘sportiveness,’ they would delight in affixing on their newly-born
children that which they hoped would be in the future but the index of
the real character. ‘Hillary’ when not local is therefore but the fuller
‘Hilaria.’ ‘Joyce,’ sometimes the result of the mere nickname, is
nothing more than ‘Jocosa,’ and ‘Lettice,’ ‘Letts,’ and ‘Letson’ are
sufficiently numerous to preserve the memory of ‘Lætitia.’ Thus, in one
of the Coventry Mysteries already alluded to, mention is made of
Col Crane and Davy Dry-dust,
Lucy Lyer and Letyce Lytyl-trust,
Miles the Miller and Colle Crake-crust.
‘Letson’ is met in the fourteenth century as ‘Fitz-Lettice.’
‘Theophania’ was anything but unpopular, but its length made it
unavoidable but that it should be mutilated, or at least put in an
abbreviated or nickname form, and thus it is has arisen our ‘Tiffany,’
whence of course the surname of to-day. Thus, in the Coventry Mysteries,
it is demanded that
Both Bonting the Brewster and Sybyl Slynge,
Megge Mery-wedyr, and Sabyn[59] Sprynge,
Tiffany Twynkeler fayle for no thynge.
Thierry in his history of the ‘Conquest of England’ quotes an old
writer, who has preserved the following lines of a decidedly doggrel
character:—
William de Cognisby
Came out of Brittany
With his wife Tiffany,
And his maid Manfras,
And his dogge Hardigras.
We must not forget to mention ‘Eleanor,’ or ‘Alianora,’ as it is more
frequently registered, a name of suffering royalty, and therefore to a
portion of the English people, at least, a popular name. Its forms are
too many for enumeration, but ‘Alianor,’ ‘Annora,’ ‘Annot,’ ‘Alinot,’
‘Leonora,’ ‘Eleanor,’ ‘Elinor,’ ‘Ellen,’ ‘Lina,’ ‘Linot,’ and ‘Nel’ were
the most common. All of these were either surnames themselves, or became
the roots of surnames. Thus we find among other entries such
registrations as ‘Alicia Alianor,’ ‘Alianor Busche,’ ‘Annora Widow,’
‘Annora de Aencurt,’ ‘Anota Canun,’ ‘John Annotson,’ ‘William
Annotyson,’ ‘Hugh fil. Elyenore,’ ‘William Alinot,’ ‘Alnot Red,’ ‘Lyna
le Archer,’ ‘Linota ate Field,’ or ‘Linota Vidua.’ This list will
suffice to prove the place occupied by ‘Eleanor.’ I have not mentioned
such entries as ‘John fil. Nel’ or ‘Elisha Annyson,’ or ‘Richard
Anyson,’ for though in these particular instances we see the origin of
some of our ‘Ansons’ and ‘Nelsons,’ both are more generally referable to
a different source. ‘Neal’ or ‘Neile’ was very common in this day, and
‘Neilson’ would easily be corrupted into ‘Nelson.’
‘Julian,’ the abbreviated form of ‘Juliana,’ as a Norman-introduced name
became very popular, and its after history was a very curious one. Such
appellations as ‘Gillian Cook,’ or ‘Gilian of the Mill,’ found in the
Hundred Rolls, or that of the well-known ‘Dame Julyan Berners,’ whose
work on household management I shall have occasion to quote by-and-by,
only represent in fuller forms the ‘Gill’ or ‘Jill’ who is so renowned
in our nursery literature as having met with such a dire disaster in the
dutiful endeavour ‘to fetch a pail of water’ from the hill-side. I have
already mentioned ‘Cocke Lorell’s Bote,’ where allusion is made to
Jelyan Joly at signe of the Bokeler.
The shorter and curter form is given us in Heywood’s Epigrams, where the
following marital dialogue occurs:—
I am care-full to see thee carelesse, Jylle:
I am wofull to see thee wytlesse, Wyll:
I am anguisht to see thee an ape, Jyll:
I am angry to see thee an asse, Wyll:
I am dumpyshe to see thee play the drabbe, Jyll:
I am knappyshe to see thee plaie the knave, Wyll.
But ‘Gill’ at some time or other got into evil odour, and this brought
the name into all but absolute disuse. As a term for a wanton flirt or
inconstant girl, it was familiarly used till the eighteenth century. It
would seem as if the poet I have just quoted were referring to this
characteristic when he writes:—
All shall be well, Jacke shall have Gill;
Nay, nay, Gill is wedded to Wyll;[60]
or where in another place he says:—
How may I have thee, Gill, when I wish for thee?
Wish not for me Jack, but when thou mayest have me.[61]
The diminutive ‘Gilot’ or ‘Juliet’ is used in the same way. In an old
metrical sermon it is said—
Robin will Gilot
Leden to the nale,
And sitten there togedres,
And tellen their tale.
This at once reminds us of the origin of our ‘jilt,’ which is nothing
more than a relic of the name for inconstancy the sobriquet had
obtained. In our ‘Gills,’ ‘Gilsons,’ and many of our ‘Gillots,’ a
further remembrance is likely to remain for all time.[62] Such names as
these, however, offer no kind of comparison with that of ‘Margaret.’
This is the only rival that ‘Gillian’ had to fear, and had the
misfortunes of Margaret of Anjou occurred two, or even one century
earlier, it would easily have taken precedence, so far as our surnames
are concerned. Apart from its being found in several royal lines, it had
the advantage of undoubted prettiness both in sound and sense. Every
one, too, knew its meaning, for ‘margarite’ and ‘pearl’ then, and until
the seventeenth century even, were interchangeable terms. Every early
writer so uses it. ‘Casting pearls before swine’ is with Wickliffe
‘margaritis.’[63] The pet names too were pretty, important in a day when
the full name was rarely if ever used.[64] The Norman-French ‘Margot’
seems to have been quite as familiar as ‘Marjorie.’ Thus the homely
‘magpie’ was at first styled the ‘maggoty’ or ‘magot-pie.’ Many will
remember that Macbeth so uses it—
Blood will have blood:
Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak,
Augurs and understood relations have
By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth
The secretest man of blood.—ii. 7.
‘Madge-owlet,’ too, from its occasional use by writers of this later
period, seems to prove that the still more homely owl of the barn owed
an appellation to Dame Marjorie. Her issue, as we should expect, is
large. We have ‘Maggs,’ ‘Maggots,’ and ‘Magotson;’ ‘Margots,’
‘Margetts,’ and ‘Margetson;’ ‘Margison,’ ‘Margerison,’ ‘Meggs,’ and
‘Megson.’[65] It will be surprising to many that we cannot place ‘Mary’
in the first place among female names, as it is now among those of
either sex, but such was far from the case. Edward I.’s daughter ‘Marie’
seems to have been the first instance we possess of its use among the
higher families of the realm; and doubtless its presence at this time
must be referred, as in so many other cases we have mentioned, to the
Crusades. Mariolatry, we must remember, was not yet an article of Romish
belief. Indeed, the name is still of the rarest for generations after
this. Maid Marion, the mistress of Robin Hood, seems to have made that
diminutive popular, and either from the acted plays in which she
frequently afterwards figured, or the little ornamental image of the
Virgin worn by women, is come our _marionette_. The one only form in
which it can be said to occur in our English records is that of
‘Mariot,’ such names as ‘Mariot Goscelyn,’ or ‘Mariota Giffard,’ or
‘Mariota Gosebeck,’ being found as a very occasional registry. Thus our
‘Mariotts’ and ‘Maryatts’ are explained. With regard to another batch of
names said to have sprung from this, I find a difficulty sets in. We
have the clear statement of the author of the ‘Promptorium Parvulorum’
that ‘Malkyne’ in his day was the sobriquet of Matilda, that is,
‘Mawdkin.’ On the other hand, I find Halliwell has a single quotation
from a manuscript in which Maid Marion is styled Malkyn also.[66] All
modern writers, saving Mr. Lower, who has come to no decision at all,
have comfortably put it down to this latter. I have no hesitation
whatever myself in deciding differently, or at least in qualifying their
conclusion. There can be scarcely any doubt, I think, that Malkin was
originally the pet name of Matilda; then, as that favourite name
gradually sunk in estimation, and Mary proportionately advanced, but
this much later on, it was transferred. Thus, if I am correct, our
‘Makinsons’ and ‘Makins,’[67] our ‘Meakins’ and ‘Meekins,’ and our
‘Mawsons’[68] will be sprung from Maud, rather than Mary. In
confirmation of this, I may quote ‘Malkin,’ the early cant term for a
‘slut,’ a word as old as Chaucer himself, and one that Mary could not
have possibly acquired in his day, as barely familiar. ‘Mawdkin’ or
‘Malkin,’ on the other hand, would be the ordinary term for every
household drudge. It is only those who have carefully studied early
registers who can realize the difference of position ‘Matilda’ and
‘Mary’ relatively occupy at such a period as this. There were six
‘Matildas’ of royal lineage between William I. and Henry II. alone. It
greets one at every turn; the present popularity of the latter is
entirely the growth of a later and more superstitious age.[69]
Speaking of Mary, we must not forget Elizabeth, known, generations ere
Queen Bess made it so popular, as Isabella. It was in this form it came
into England with that princess of Angoulême who married John Lackland.
But it was not a favourite; pretty as it was, its connexion with our
most despicable monarch spoiled all chance of popularity, and while on
the Continent it gained friends on every hand, it was only with the
higher nobility of our own land it got any place worth speaking of.
Still it has left its mark. As Elizabeth[70] at a later stage became
‘Lib’ and ‘Libby,’ so Isabel was fondled into ‘Ib’ and ‘Ibby.’ Thus we
come across such entries as ‘Henry Ebison,’ ‘Thomas Ibson,’ or ‘John
Ibson.’ But a foreign name without the foreign desinence would be
impossible. With the introduction of Isabel came in the diminutive
‘Ibbot’ or ‘Ibbet.’ Registrations like ‘Ibbota fil. Adam,’ ‘Ibote
Babyngton,’ or ‘Ebote Gylle,’ and as surnames ‘Walter Ibbot,’ ‘Robert
fil. Ibote,’ ‘Francis Ibbitson,’ or ‘Alice Ebotson’ are of common
occurrence.[71] Another form of the same diminutive was ‘Isot,’ hence
‘Isotte Symes,’ ‘Izott Barn,’ or ‘Ezota Hall.’[72] But even with this we
have not completed our list. One more pet form, and one still common
amongst us, that of ‘Bell,’ left its mark in ‘Bellot,’ ‘Bellet,’ and
‘Bellson,’ all of which are still to be found in our directories.
The preceding pages will be sufficient proof that our metronymics are a
considerable class. Many have not hesitated to affirm them to be wholly
of illegitimate descent. We cannot doubt that in some instances this is
the case. Nevertheless, we must not be led astray. ‘Polson’ is Paul’s
son, ‘Nelson’ is Neil’s son, Neil or Nigel being at one time a familiar
name with us. And even when the name is unquestionably feminine, as in
Mollison, Margerison, Marriot, Emmett, or Annotson, illegitimacy is
anything but established as a matter of fact. Adoption of children by
women, posthumous birth, and other peculiar circumstances would often
cause a boy or girl to be known in the community by a metronymic.
Especially, too, would a child be thus styled in a family where the
mother was notoriously, and in an emphatic sense, the better half, in a
family where the husband was content to sit in the chimney nook, and let
the bustling Margery, or Siss, or Emmot take, whether in or out of
doors, the lead in all that concerned the domestic relationship. Thus, I
doubt not, a large mass of them have arisen.
VII.—_Names Derived from Holy Scripture._
We have incidentally referred to several Bible names, such as John,
Mary, or Elizabeth. We shall find a certain characteristic appertaining
to these. It is only those personages who prominently figured in the
Scripture narrative who made any mark upon our nomenclature. The others,
I doubt not, were unknown. It is even uncertain whether the clergy
themselves had any but the faintest knowledge of the Bible. Indeed, such
names even as were in use bear no testimony to the fact that they were
given as the direct result of familiarity with the sacred pages. If from
the New Testament, they were names that figured in the calendar as
saints and martyrs, names to whom shrines and chapels had been
dedicated. If from the Old, they were just those like ‘Adam,’ or
‘Isaac,’ or ‘Joseph,’ or ‘Samson,’ or ‘Daniel,’ or ‘Absolom,’ whose
stories, told in the monkish performances or miracle-plays, were thus
forced into the acquaintance of the popular mind. In a word, there is
not a trace of anything beyond a mere superficial knowledge of the very
outlines of the sacred narrative. Thus was it with ‘Adam,’ already
mentioned. That he and Eve should be remembered at the font was
inevitable. The Hundred Rolls give us an ‘Adam fil. Eve.’ Mr. Lower has
been tempted to refer our ‘Atkins’ and ‘Atkinsons’ to Arthur, but there
can be little doubt, I imagine, that these are but sharper forms of
‘Adkins’ and ‘Adkinson.’ The record alluded to above registers the same
person twice as ‘Adam le Fullere’ and ‘Adekin le Fuller.’ With them
therefore we must ally our ‘Addisons,’ ‘Adcocks,’[73] and ‘Adamsons.’
Eve left us ‘Eveson’ as a metronymic, and ‘Evetts’ and ‘Evitts,’ as the
diminutives, are firmly set amongst us.[74] ‘Abel’ was equally popular.
The Norman desinence is found in such entries as ‘Abalotta de la Forde,’
or Richard Abelot, whose descendants now figure as ‘Ablett’ and
‘Ablott.’ As will be seen, these may be feminine in origin. The
reverence of the despised Jew for Abraham prevented this from becoming
acceptable to Christians, but Isaac’s sacrifice was too popular a story
not to leave an impression. It would be frequently represented by the
monks. I have already quoted Langland where he speaks of
Hikke the hackney-man
And Hugh the nedlere—
an abbreviation now more generally known and spelt as ‘Ike.’ Gower also
has it—
_Watte_ vocat, cui _Thoma_ venit, neque _Symme_ retardat,
_Bat_-que _Gibbe_ simul, _Hykke_ venire jubent.
From him then have arisen our ‘Isaacs’ and ‘Isaacsons,’ our ‘Hicks’ and
‘Hicksons,’ our ‘Higgs’ and ‘Higsons,’ and with the Norman-French
diminutives appended, our ‘Higgins,’ ‘Higginsons,’ ‘Higgotts,’[75] and
‘Higgetts.’ ‘Sarah,’ in the dress of ‘Sarra,’ had a fair number of
admirers. ‘Sarra le Commongere,’ ‘William fil. Sarra,’ ‘Nicholas fil.
Sarre,’ is the usual entry. The origin of our ‘Sarsons’ would thus be
certain, were it not that this name, as will be shown elsewhere, has got
confused with ‘Saracen.’ Moses also failed to be accepted among
Christians, nor was Aaron much more fortunate, such registration as
‘Aaron le Blund’ or ‘Aron Judde’ being rare. ‘Samson’ or ‘Sampson,’ as
it is more generally recorded, was of course popular enough, and many of
our ‘Sampsons’ are rather the simple ‘Samson’ than the patronymic of
‘Samuel.’ ‘Samms,’ ‘Samuels’ and ‘Samuelson’ are generally of Jewish
descent. ‘David,’ with its ‘Davies,’ its ‘Davidsons,’ its ‘Dawes’ and
‘Dawsons,’ its ‘Dawkes’ and ‘Dawkins,’ or ‘Dawkinsons,’ its ‘Dayes,’
‘Daysons,’ and ‘Dakins’ (when not ‘Deakin’), would be equally sure of
remembrance; though doubtless, as the patron saint of the Principality,
and as a favourite among Scottish kings, it owes much to these outer
chances. Here, too, we are reminded of Piers Plowman, with his—
Dawe the dykere
And a dozen othere.
This nickname seems to have had a long reign in the popular mouth, for
we find, towards the close of the sixteenth century, Haywood writing the
following epigram:—
To a justice a juggler did complaine,
Of one that dispraised his legerdemain.
What’s thy name? sayd the Justice: Dawson, sayd hee:
Is thy father alive? Nay, dead, sir, pardee:
Then thou shalt no more be Dau’s son, a clere case,
Thou art Daw thyself now in thy father’s place.[76]
Passing by ‘Absolom,’ ‘Solomon,’ or ‘Salamon,’ ‘Job’ and ‘Jobson,’ the
story of Daniel would of course be common. This has bequeathed us itself
in _propria persona_, and ‘Dancock,’ ‘Dankin,’ ‘Danett,’ and ‘Dannett.’
With regard to ‘Dans,’ ‘Dance,’ ‘Danse,’ and ‘Danson,’ there is a little
difficulty. We have to remember that ‘Dan,’ like ‘Dame,’[77] figured
prominently in early days as a simple title of respect. They were but
the ‘Don’ and ‘Donna’ which, in one form or another, still exist in
Italy, France, and Spain. ‘Dame,’ from domina, meant ‘mistress.’ ‘Don,’
from dominus, meant ‘master.’ To rank and age the two terms were equally
applied. A ‘dame’s school’ still preserves this connexion of ideas. ‘As
with the mistress so with the maid,’ is in early Bibles ‘As with the
dame so with the maid.’ Thus there seems to be little doubt that our
‘Dames’ and ‘Damsons’ are so sprung. Why then should not ‘Dans’ and
‘Danse’ and ‘Danson’ be the masculine form? Chaucer, in his Canterbury
Tales, represents the host as asking the Monk—
But, by my trothe, I cannot tell your name:
Whether shall I call you my lord Dan John,
Or Dan Thomas, or elles Dan Albon?
Thus he speaks also of ‘Dan Constantine,’ and jestingly of the ass as
‘Dan Burnell.’ Thus, Lord Surrey in one of his poems speaks of ‘Dan
Homer;’ Spenser of ‘Dan Geoffrey;’ Thomson of ‘Dan Abraham.’ The best
way will be, as in many another case, to divide the honours between the
two; and leaving it thus undecided, I pass on.
Nor is the New Testament without its instances. Let us look at the
Apostles first. We have already spoken at some length about ‘John,’ but
we purposely kept for the present opportunity the explanation of its
popularity in England. There can be little doubt that it owes much to
its religious aspect. It was the name not merely of the beloved
disciple, but of the Baptist. New and close associations with the latter
were just coming into being. We must remember this was the time of the
Crusades. It was the custom of all pilgrims who visited the Holy Land to
bring back a bottle of water from the Jordan for baptismal purposes. A
leathern bottle was an inseparable adjunct to the palmer’s dress. We all
remember Walter Scott’s description—
His sandals were with travel tore,
Staff, budget, _bottle_, scrip he wore:
The faded palm-branch in his hand
Showed pilgrim from the Holy Land.
Early scenes with regard to the river in which the Baptist specially
figured would thus be vividly brought to their notice, and in the
ceremony of baptism at home nothing could be more natural than to give
to the infant the name of the baptizer of the Holy Child Jesus. This is
strongly confirmed by the fact of the name taking precedence at this
very period. It was thus ‘Jordan’ itself as a surname has arisen. I need
not remind students of early records how common is ‘Jordan’ as a
Christian name, such cognomens as ‘Jordan de Abingdon’ or ‘Jordan le
Clerc’ being of the most familiar occurrence. The baptismal soon became
surnominal, and now ‘Jordan,’[78] ‘Jordanson,’ ‘Jordson,’ ‘Jurdan,’
‘Judd,’ and ‘Judson’[79] are with us to remind us of this peculiar and
interesting epoch.[80] We have a remarkable confirmation of what I am
asserting in the fact of the Baptist’s other name of ‘Elias’ springing
into a sudden notoriety at this time. If ‘John’ became thus so popular,
it was inevitable ‘Elias’ should be the same; and so it was. Indeed,
there was a time when it bid fair to be one of the most familiar
sobriquets in England. For it was not merely the second Elias and the
Jordan that had this effect. As the armies lay before Acre, remembrance
of Elijah and the prophet of Carmel must have oft recurred to their
minds. Out of many forms to be found in every early roll, those of
‘Ellis,’ ‘Elys,’ ‘Elice,’ ‘Ellice,’ ‘Elyas,’ ‘Helyas,’ and the
diminutive ‘Eliot’ or ‘Elliot,’ seem to have been the most familiar.
Numberless are the surnames sprung from it. It is thus we get our
‘Ellises’ and ‘Ellices,’ our ‘Ellsons’ and ‘Ellisons,’ our ‘Elkins’ and
‘Elkinsons,’ our ‘Elcocks’ and ‘Ellcocks,’ and our ‘Ellicots,’[81]
‘Elliots,’ and ‘Elliotsons.’ In the north ‘Alis’ seems to have gained
the supremacy. Thus it is we have our many ‘Allisons’ or ‘Alisons,’[82]
‘Allkins’ or ‘Alkins,’ ‘Allcocks’ or ‘Alcocks,’ and ‘Allots.’ ‘Alecot,’
as a synonym with ‘Elicot,’ I do not find to be at present existing, but
as a Christian name it occurs at the same period with the above.[83]
‘Fitzellis,’ as the more aristocratic Norman form, is not yet, I
believe, extinct. Thus the prophet at Carmel and the forerunner at the
Jordan have made their mark upon our English nomenclature.
Peter claims our attention next. When we consider how important has been
the position claimed for him it is remarkable that in an age when, so
far as England was concerned, this respect was more fully exacted than
any other, his name should be so rarely found, rarely when we reflect
what an influence the ecclesiastics of the day themselves must have had
in the choice of the baptismal name, and what an interest they had in
making it popular. It is to them, doubtless, we must refer the fact of
its having made any mark at all, for ‘Peter’ was odious to English ears.
It reminded them of a tax which was the one of all least liked, as they
saw none of its fruits. It is to country records we must look for the
‘Peters’ of the time. The freer towns would none of it. Among the rude
peasantry ecclesiastic control was well-nigh absolute; in the boroughs
it was proportionately less. I have already quoted an instance of 133
London names where Peter is discovered but once to 35 Johns. In the
Norwich Guild already mentioned, the proportion, or rather
disproportion, is the same. To 128 Johns, 47 Williams, 41 Thomases, 33
Roberts, and 21 Richards, there are but 4 Peters. On the other hand, in
Wiltshire, out of 588 names, we find 16 Peters to 92 Johns. This wide
difference of ratio I find to be fully borne out in all other groups of
early names. Thanks then to the ecclesiastics it did exist, and its
relics at any rate are numerous enough. It is hence we get the shorter
‘Parr,’ ‘Piers,’ ‘Pierce,’ ‘Pears,’ ‘Pearse,’ and ‘Peers.’ It is hence
with the patronymic added we get our ‘Parsons,’ ‘Pearsons,’ ‘Piersons,’
and the fuller ‘Peterson.’ It is hence once more with the pet desinences
attached we get our ‘Perrins’ and ‘Perrens,’ our ‘Perrets,’ ‘Perretts,’
‘Parrots,’ and ‘Parrets,’[84] our ‘Peterkins,’ ‘Perkins,’ ‘Parkins,’ and
‘Parkinsons,’ besides our ‘Perks’ and ‘Perkes’ innumerable.
‘Simon,’ or ‘Simeon,’ is represented by at least sixteen different
personages in the Scriptures, so we may well expect to find that it has
also impressed itself upon our own registers. The usual forms of the
name in mediæval rolls is ‘Sim,’ ‘Simkin,’ and ‘Simonet.’ Thus we find
such entries as ‘Simon fil. Sim,’ ‘Simkin Cock,’ ‘Symkyn Edward,’
‘Simonettus Mercator,’ or ‘Symonet Vaillain.’ The French diminutive does
not seem to have been so popular as that which the Flemings made so
common, for I find no ‘Simnets’ in our directories, while a whole column
has to be set aside for our ‘Simpkins’ and ‘Simpkinsons.’ ‘Simcock’ must
have existed also, as our ‘Simcocks’ and ‘Simcoxes’ can testify. Other
forms are found in ‘Sims,’ ‘Simms,’ ‘Simpson,’ ‘Simmons,’ ‘Simonds,’
‘Symonds,’ ‘Simmonds,’ and ‘Symondsons.’ This latter is met with in the
Rolls of Parliament in the guise of ‘Symondesson.’ ‘Philip,’ as another
of the Apostles of Jesus, was also popular. As with ‘Simon,’ most of the
nursery forms are still found as the chief components of its surnames.
Skelton, the poet-laureate—in lieu of a better—of Henry VIII., reminds
us of its chief contraction, ‘Philp,’ or ‘Phip,’ in his lines on a dead
sparrow, named Philip:—
Many times and oft,
Upon my finger aloft,
I played with him, tittle-tattle,
And fed him with my spattle,
With his bill between my lips.
It was my pretty Phips.
Thus we derive our ‘Phelps,’ ‘Philps,’ ‘Phipps,’ and ‘Phipson.’ Adding
to these our ‘Philips,’ ‘Philipsons,’ ‘Philcoxes,’ ‘Philpotts,’ and
‘Phillots,’ we see that we are not likely soon to be quit of Philip. He
is now, however, out of fashion as a Christian name. ‘Philpot,’[85] I
need scarcely say, was very popular as the representative of the
Norman-French ‘Philipot,’ found in such entries as ‘Thomas Phylypotte,’
or ‘John Philipot;’ but endeavours to deduce his origin as well in
spelling as in sound from the characteristics displayed by the renowned
Toby Phillpot are not wanting, for I see him figuring in the ‘London
Directory’ as ‘Fillpot.’ Archbishop Trench quotes from one of Careless’s
letters to Philpot the following passage, which serves to show that
three hundred years ago at least the name had been played upon in
similar fashion: ‘Oh, good Master Philpot (he says), which art a
principal _pot_ indeed, _filled_ with much precious liquor—oh, pot most
happy! of the High Potter ordained to honour.’ Some years ago, when a
Philpott was appointed to the episcopal chair of Worcester, Dr.
Philpotts being yet at Exeter, the following lines got abroad:—
‘A good appointment?’ ‘No, it’s not,’
Said old beer-drinking Peter Watts;
‘At Worcester one but hears “Phil-pott;”
At generous Exeter, “Phil-potts.”’
‘Fillpot’ as well as ‘Fillip’ are both found in mediæval registers in
the cases of ‘Roger Fylpot’ and ‘Walter Felip.’ An old song, quoted in
‘Political Poems’ (i. 60), says of the defeated soldiers at Halidon
Hill:—
On Filip Valas fast cri they,
There for to dwell, and him avaunce.
The ‘Fillpots’ of our present directories may therefore have thus spelt
their names for four or five hundred years. Anyhow they have precedent
for the form.
‘Matthew the Publican’ seems to have been a favourite alike in England
and France. ‘Matt’ was the homely appellative, and thus besides
‘Mathews’ and ‘Mathewson,’ we meet with ‘Matts,’ ‘Matson,’ ‘Mattison,’
and ‘Mattinson.’ Our ‘Mayhews’ represent the foreign dress, and can
refer their origin to such personages as ‘Adam fil. Maheu,’ or ‘Mayeu de
Basingbourne.’ ‘Bartholomew,’ for what reason I can scarcely say, was a
prime favourite with our forefathers, and has left innumerable proofs of
the same. ‘Batt’ or ‘Bett’ seems to have been the favourite curtailment.
The author of ‘Piers Plowman’ speaks of ‘Bette the Bocher’ (Butcher),
‘Bette the Bedel,’ and makes Reason bid
Bette kutte
A bough outher tweye,
And bete Beton therewith.
‘Batty,’ ‘Bates,’ ‘Batson,’ ‘Batcock,’ ‘Badcock,’ ‘Batkins,’ ‘Badkins,’
‘Betson,’ ‘Bedson,’ and ‘Betty’ are relics of this. ‘Bartle,’ and the
Norman-French ‘Bartelot,’ found in such entries as ‘Bartel Frobisher,’
‘John fil. Bertol,’ ‘Bartelot Govi,’ or ‘Edward Barttlette,’ at once
bespeak the origin of our ‘Bartles’ and ‘Bartletts.’[86] Nor was this
all. Another favourite sobriquet for this same name was ‘Toly’ or
‘Tholy,’ hence such registrations as ‘Tholy Oldcorn,’ or ‘Robert Toly,’
or ‘William fil. Tholy.’ Our ‘Tolleys,’ ‘Tollys’ and ‘Tolsons’[87] are
thus explained. None of these could have been the offspring of any old
‘Ladye Betty,’ as Mr. Lower seems to imagine, since that name, as I have
shown, did not exist in England at this time, nor in fact can it be said
to have been known till rendered fashionable by Elizabeth Woodville, the
bride of Edward IV. What an influence a single individual may wield over
our personal nomenclature may be thus seen, when we remember the
enormous preponderance of this latter name during the two centuries that
followed the reign of the imperious but ‘good Queen Bess,’ and the
glorious scattering of the Spanish Armada. This, too, escaping the
withering influences of the Puritan era, continued through all, and now
holds the fourth place in English esteem.
In the poem I have just quoted, Reason
Called Caton his knave
Curteis of speche,
And also Tomme Trewe-tonge.
Thus we see that ‘Tom,’ as the popular form of ‘Thomas,’ has been in
vogue for many centuries. ‘Thomas,’ like some of the above names,
received an increased impulse from the Crusades. But another
circumstance also befriended it. In its numerous progeny may be read
again the story of the feud that arose between the haughty Archbishop
and Henry II., a feud that terminated so fatally for the former, and
made the spot where he fell hallowed for centuries by the pilgrimages of
shrine-worshippers. Piers, in Langland’s poem, says,
I nolde fange a ferthyng
For seint Thomas shryne.
The surnames whose origin we must undoubtedly attribute, in the majority
of cases, to the notoriety given to the sobriquet possessed by this
murdered prelate are many. The patronymic is clearly marked in our
‘Thomasons,’ ‘Thomsons,’ and ‘Thompsons.’ The favoured Norman diminutive
is equally assured of perpetuation in our ‘Thomasetts,’ ‘Thomsetts,’ and
‘Thompsetts;’ the Saxon being as fully popularised in our ‘Thompkins,’
‘Tompkins,’ ‘Tomkins,’ and ‘Tomkinsons.’ The softer termination is also
firmly settled in our ‘Thomlins,’ ‘Tomlins,’ and ‘Tomlinsons.’[88] More
abbreviated patronymics are to be met with also in our ‘Thomms,’
‘Thoms,’ and ‘Toms.’ With so many representatives in the list of
rational beings, we need not be surprised to find the lower order of
creation under obligations to this title. It was with the death of St.
Thomas of Canterbury, and the consequent popularity of his name, arose
so many sobriquets of which the same name became a component part. The
cat became a ‘tom-cat,’ a simple-natured man a ‘tom-coney,’ a silly
fellow a ‘tom-noddy’ or ‘tom-fool,’ a romping girl a ‘tom-boy,’ and a
wren a ‘tom-tit.’ Andrew has made little impression on English
nomenclature, but in Scotland he is universal,[89] for not only is St.
Andrew the patron saint, but some of his relics are said to have been
brought thither in the 4th century. ‘Andrew,’ ‘Andrews,’ and ‘Anderson’
are its surnames, but nearly all belong to the north side of the Tweed.
‘James,’ too, has failed to be popular in England, but ‘John’ in the
shape of ‘Jack’ has robbed him, as we have seen, of nearly all his
property. Such entries as ‘James le Queynt,’ or ‘Ralph Jamson,’ or
‘William Gimmison,’ were occasionally registered, and in the form of
‘James’ ‘Jameson,’ ‘Jimson’ and ‘Jimpson’ they still exist.[90]
‘Jamieson’ is Scotch. Of the Gospel writers we have already noticed
‘Matthew’ and ‘John.’ In ‘Mark’ we see the progenitor not merely of our
‘Marks’ and the Latinized ‘Marcus,’ but of ‘Marcock,’ ‘Markin,’ and
‘Marson’ also. The mention of ‘Luke’ recalls such names as ‘Luckins,’
‘Luckock,’ ‘Lucock,’ or ‘Locock,’ ‘Luckett,’ and perchance ‘Lockett.’ It
is in the form of ‘Lucus,’ however, that he is generally known. The
author of ‘Piers Plowman’ speaks of ‘Marc,’ ‘Mathew,’ ‘Johan,’ and
‘Lucas.’
Of the later period of New Testament history, few names were better
represented than ‘Nicholas,’ but it was ‘St. Nicholas’ of the fourth
century who chiefly gave it its position. Owing to several well-known
legends that connected themselves with this famous Archbishop of Myra,
he became the patron saint of boys, sailors, parish clerks, and even
thieves. Two of the most favoured curtailments of this name were ‘Nicol’
and ‘Nick.’ From the one we have derived our ‘Nicholls’ and
‘Nicholsons;’ from the other our ‘Nixs,’ ‘Nicks,’ ‘Nixons,’ ‘Nicksons,’
and ‘Nickersons.’ Judging from our surnames, ‘Nick’ was the more
favoured term. In the old song ‘Joan to the Maypole,’ it is said:
Nan, Noll, Kate, Moll,
Brave lasses have lads to attend ’em;
Hodge, Nick, Tom, Dick,
Brave country dancers, who can amend ’em?
But the most popular form of all was that of ‘Cole’[91] or ‘Colin,’
which came to us through the Normans. ‘Colin’ is one more instance of
the diminutive ‘on’ or ‘in.’ Thus we derive our ‘Collins,’ ‘Collinsons,’
and ‘Colsons.’ The more usual desinence still lives in our ‘Colletts’
and ‘Colets.’ This is the form found in one of the ‘Coventry Mysteries,’
where allusion is made to
Kytt Cakeler, and Colett Crane,
Gylle Fetyse, and Fayr Jane.
Miss Yonge mentions a ‘Collette Boilet’ who, in the fifteenth century,
caused a reformation of the nuns of St. Clara, and Mr. Lower has a ‘St.
Colette,’ whose parents had given him the name out of respect to ‘St.
Nicholas.’ ‘Coletta Clarke’ is found in Clutterbuck’s ‘Hertford’
(Index). St. Nicholas, it is clear, was not neglected.
The proto-martyr Stephen has left many memorials in our nomenclature of
the popularity which his story obtained among the English peasantry. The
name proper is found in such entries as ‘Esteven Walays,’ or ‘Jordan
fil. Stephen,’ and their descendants now figure amongst us as
‘Stephens,’ ‘Stevens,’ ‘Stephenson,’ and ‘Stevenson.’ More curtailed
forms are met with in ‘Steenson’ and ‘Stinson,’ and the more corrupted
‘Stimson’ and ‘Stimpson.’ The Norman diminutive was of course ‘Stevenet’
or ‘Stevenot,’ and this still remains with us in our ‘Stennets’ and
‘Stennetts.’ Nor do Paul and Barnabas lack memorials. Traces of the
former are found in our ‘Polsons,’[92] ‘Pawsons,’ ‘Powlsons,’ and more
correct ‘Paulsons.’ In one of these, at least, we are reminded of the
old pronunciation of this name. Piers Plowman styles it ‘Powel,’ and
even so late as 1562 we find Heywood writing the following epigram:—
Rob Peter and pay Poule, thou sayst I do;
But thou robst and poulst Peter and Poule, too.
This at once explains the origin of our more diminutive ‘Pauletts,’
‘Pouletts,’ ‘Powletts,’ and ‘Pollitts.’[93] ‘Barnabas’ has left his
impress upon our ‘Barnabys,’ and when not local, ‘Barnbys.’ Miss Yonge
mentions an epitaph in Durham, dated 1633, commemorative of one of the
proctors of the chapter—
Under this thorne tree
Lies honest Barnabee.
A century later we find it in one of D’Orsey’s ballads—
Davy the drowsy, and Barnaby bowzy,
At breakfast will flout and will jeer, boys;
Sluggards shall chatter, with small beer and water,
Whilst you shall tope off the March beer, boys.—Vol. i. 311.
This name is now entirely out of fashion.
With five Alexanders in the New Testament it did not need the celebrity
of the great commander nor that of more fabulous heroes to make his name
common. In Scotland it obtained great favour, both in palace and
cottage. The softer form was always used. Chaucer says—
Alisaundre’s storie is commune;
and Langland, among other foreign places of interest, speaks of
Armonye and Alisaundre.
This was no doubt the popular pronunciation of the time, except that it
was usually abbreviated into ‘Sander,’ or ‘Saunder.’ Thus, in ‘Cocke
Lorells Bote,’ it is said—
Here is Saunder Sadeler, of Frog-street Corner,
With Jelyan Joly at sign of the Bokeler.
Hence it is we find such entries as ‘Thomas fil. Saundre,’ ‘John
Alisaundre,’ ‘Edward Saundercock,’ or ‘Sandres Ewart,’ and hence again
such surnames as ‘Sandercock,’ ‘Sanderson,’ ‘Saunderson,’ ‘Sanders,’ and
‘Saunders.’ ‘Timothy,’ saving in ‘Timms,’ ‘Timbs,’ ‘Timson,’ and
‘Timcock,’ seems to have been overlooked, and yet Glutton in ‘Piers
Plowman’ is followed into the tavern by
Wat the warner, and his wife both,
Tymme the tinker, and twain of his ’prentices.
But, however unfortunate Paul’s spiritual son may have been, the same
cannot be said of Clement, his fellow-labourer. Raised to high
distinction as the title of one of the greatest of the early fathers, a
popular name among the Popes (for no less than fourteen were found to
bear the sobriquet), Clement could not fail to meet with honour. Its
usual forms were ‘Clement,’ ‘Clemence,’ and ‘Clemency.’ Diminutives were
found also in ‘Clem’ and ‘Clim.’ Of the noted North English archer it is
said, in one of the Robin Hood ballads—
And Clim of the Clough hath plenty enough,
If he but a penny can spare;
and in the old song of the ‘Green-gown’ a rhyme is easily secured by the
conjunction of such names as—
Clem, Joan, and Isabel,
Sue, Alice, and bonny Nell.
The chief surnames whose paternity is traceable to ‘Clement’ are
‘Clements,’ ‘Clementson,’ ‘Clemms,’ ‘Clemson,’ and ‘Clempson.’
Archangelic names are found in our ‘Gabbs,’ ‘Gabbots,’ and ‘Gabcocks,’
from ‘Gabriel;’ and in our ‘Michaelson,’ ‘Mitchels,’ and ‘Mitchelsons,’
from ‘Michael.’
But let us somewhat more closely analyse these names. As I have said
before, from the most casual survey one thing is evident, they
represent the Church’s Calendar rather than the Church’s Bible. They
are the extract of sacred legends rather than of Holy Writ. There is
not a single name to betray any internal acquaintance with the
Scriptures. Nor could there well be. An English Bible was unknown, and
had there been one to consult, the reading powers of the nation were
too limited for it to have been much used. Many of the clergy
themselves could not read. Thus the Bible, so far as extends beyond
the leading incidents it contains, was a sealed book. This had its
effect upon our nomenclature. We cannot find a single trace of
acquaintance with its rarer histories. What a wide change in this
respect did Wicklyffe and the Reformation effect! With an English
Bible in their hand, with the clearing away of the mists of ignorance
and superstition, with the destruction of all forces that could
obstruct the spread of knowledge, all was altered. The Bible, posted
up in every church, might be read of all—and all who could probably
did read it. This at once had its effect upon our nomenclature. Names
familiar enough in our own day to those ordinarily conversant with the
Scriptures, but till then absolutely unknown, were brought forth from
their hiding-places and made subservient to the new impulse of the
nation. Names associated with the more obscure books, and with
personages less directly confronting us in our study of the Word,
begin now to be inscribed upon our registers. The ‘Proceedings in
Chancery’ is the best evidence how far this had affected our
nomenclature towards the close of the reign of Elizabeth. We come
across such names, for example, as ‘Ezechie Newbold,’ ‘Dyna Bocher,’
‘Phenenna Salmon,’ ‘Ezekiel Guppye,’ ‘Dedimus Buckland,’ ‘Esdras
Botright,’ ‘Sydrach Sympson,’ ‘Judith Botswain,’ ‘Isachar Brookes,’
‘Gamaliel Capell,’ ‘Emanuel Cole,’ ‘Abigaill Cordell,’ ‘Reuben Crane,’
‘Amos Boteler,’ ‘Philologus Forth,’ ‘Zabulon Clerke,’ ‘Archelaus
Gifford,’ ‘Gideon Hancock,’ ‘Seth Awcocke,’ ‘Abacucke Harman,’ or
‘Melchizedek Payn.’ The ‘State Papers’ (domestic) of James I.’s reign
are still more largely imbued with the new influence. We are now
brought face to face with entries such as ‘Uriah Babington,’ ‘Aquila
Wykes,’ ‘Hilkiah Crooke,’ ‘Caleb Morley,’ ‘Philemon Powell,’ ‘Melchior
Rainald,’ ‘Zachæus Ivitt,’ ‘Ananias Dyce,’ ‘Agrippina Bingley,’
‘Apollonia Cotton,’ or ‘Phineas Pett.’ So far, however, the change was
of a certain kind. These new names did not clash with the old
nomenclature. There was a greater variety, that was all. Both romance
and sacred names went together, and in the same family might be seen
‘John’ and ‘Ralph,’ ‘Isaac’ and ‘Robert,’ ‘Reuben’ and ‘Richard.’ But
a new spirit was being infused into the heart of the nation, that
spirit which at length brought about the Puritan Commonwealth. We all
know how this great change came. It is neither our intention, nor need
we enter into it here. Sufficient for our purpose that it came. This
revolution marvellously affected our nomenclature. It was not simply
that the old and, so to speak, pagan names ‘William,’ ‘Roland,’
‘Edward,’ ‘Ralph,’ ‘Aymon,’ and a hundred others, once household
words, were condemned to oblivion, but even the names of the Christian
saints were ignored. ‘Cromwell,’ says Cleveland, ‘hath beat up his
drums clean through the Old Testament—you may know the genealogy of
our Saviour by the names of his regiment. The muster master hath no
other list than the first chapter of St. Matthew.’ The Old Testament,
indeed, seems to have been alone in favour.[94] The practice of
choosing such designations borrowed therefrom as ‘Enoch,’ ‘Hiram,’
‘Seth,’ ‘Phineas,’ ‘Eli,’ ‘Obadiah,’ ‘Job,’ ‘Joel,’ ‘Hezekiah,’
‘Habbakuk,’ ‘Caleb,’ ‘Zeruiah,’ ‘Joshua,’ ‘Hephzibah,’ or
‘Zerubbabel,’ has left its mark to this very day, especially in our
more retired country districts. Self-abasement showed itself, at least
externally, in the choice of names of bad repute. ‘Cains,’ ‘Absoloms,’
‘Abners,’ ‘Delilahs,’ ‘Dinahs,’ ‘Tamars,’ ‘Korahs,’ ‘Abirams,’ and
‘Sapphiras,’[95] abounded. Nor was this all. Of all excesses those of
a religious character are proverbially most intemperate in their
course. Abstract qualities, prominent words of Scriptures, nay, even
short and familiar sentences culled from its pages, or parodied, were
tacked on to represent the Christian name. Camden mentions, as
existing in his own day, such appellations as ‘Free-gift,’
‘Reformation,’ ‘Earth,’ ‘Dust,’ ‘Ashes,’ ‘Delivery,’ ‘Morefruit,’
‘Tribulation,’ ‘The Lord is near,’ ‘More trial,’ ‘Discipline,’ ‘Joy
again,’ ‘From above’—names which, he says, ‘have lately been given by
some to their children, with no evil meaning, but upon some singular
and precise conceit.’ ‘Praise-God-Barebones’ is but another specimen
of this extraordinary spirit. The brother of this latter could boast a
still longer sobriquet. He had chosen for himself, it is said, the
title, ‘If-Christ-had-not-died-for-you-you-had-been-damned-Barebones,’
but his acquaintances becoming wearied of its length, retained only
the last word, and as ‘Damned-Barebones’ left him a sobriquet more
curt than pleasant. The following is a list of a jury said to have
been enclosed in the county of Sussex at this time, and selected of
course from the number of the Saints:—
Accepted Trevor of Norsham.
Redeemed Compton of Battle.
Faint-not Hewit of Heathfield.
Make-peace Heaton of Hare.
God-reward Smart of Fivehurst.
Stand-fast-on-high Stringer of Crowhurst.
Earth Adams of Waketon.
Called Lower of the same.
Kill-sin Pimple of Witham.
Return Spelman of Watling.
Be-faithful Joiner of Butling.
Fly-debate Roberts of the same.
Fight-the-good-fight-of-faith White of Emer.
More-fruit Fowler of East Hadly.
Hope-for Bending of the same.
Graceful Herding of Lewes.
Weep-not Billing of the same.
Meek Brewer of Oakeham.
The above list may be thought by many a mere burlesque, and so I doubt
not it is, but a similar category could be quickly put together from
more reliable sources, and some of the names therein set down did
certainly exist. The following entries are quoted by Mr. Lower from the
registers of Warbleton:—
1617. Be-stedfast Elyarde.
— Goodgift Gynnings.
1622. Lament Willard.
1624. Defend Outered.
1625. Faint-not Dighurst.
— Fere-not Rhodes.
1677. Replenish French.[96]
The ‘Proceedings in Chancery’ furnish us with ‘Virtue Hunt,’ ‘Temperance
Dowlande,’ ‘Charitie Bowes,’ and ‘Lamentation Chapman.’ The ‘Visitation
of Yorkshire’ gives us ‘Fayth Neville,’ ‘Grace Clayton,’ ‘Troth
Bellingham,’ and ‘Prudence Spenser;’ and amongst other more general
instances may be mentioned ‘Experience Mayhew,’[97] ‘Abstinence
Pougher,’[98] ‘Increase Mather,’[99] ‘Thankfull Frewen,’ ‘Accepted
Frewen,’[100] ‘Live-well Sherwood,’[101] ‘Faythful Fortescue,’[102] and
‘Silence Leigh.’[103] The more extraordinary and rabid phases of this
spirit have now passed away, but the general effect remains. It is from
this date, I have said, must be noted the declension of such a familiar
name as ‘Humphrey,’ or ‘Ralph,’ or ‘Joscelyn,’ and of the romance names
generally. From this date we perceive the use of some of our present
most familiar and till then well-nigh unknown baptismal names.
With the restoration of Charles II. much of the more rhapsodic features
of this curious spirit died out, but it is more than probable it was fed
elsewhere. The rigorous persecution of the Nonconformists which marked
and blotted his reign, the persecuting spirit which drove hundreds to
seek beyond the seas that asylum for religious liberty which was denied
them at home, could have none other effect than to make these settlers
cling the more tenaciously to the new scheme of doctrine and practice,
for which they had sacrificed so much. Thus the feeling which had led
them at home to allow the Written Word to be the only source from which
to select names for their children, or to make substitutions for their
own, was not likely to be suppressed in the backwoods.[104] Their very
life and its surroundings there but harmonized with the primitive
histories of those whose names they had chosen. A kind of affinity
seemed to be established between them. This spirit was fanned by the
very paucity of population, and the difficulty of keeping up any
connexion with the outer world. They were shut up within themselves, and
thus the Bible became to them, not so much a record of the past as that
through which ran the chronicle of the present. It was a living thread
interwoven into their very lives. Their history was inscribed in its
pages, their piety was fed by its doctrines. Its impress lay upon all,
its influence pervaded all. All this has left its mark upon
Anglo-American nomenclature—nay, to such a degree do these influences
still exist, that, though derived from the same sources, the American
system and our own can scarce be viewed otherwise than as separate and
distinct. Rare, indeed, are the early romance and the Teutonic names in
those tracts where the descendants of the primitive settlers are found.
All are derived from the Scriptures, or are of that fancy character, a
love of which arose with their Puritan forefathers. Appellations such as
‘Seth,’ or ‘Abel,’ or ‘Lot,’ or ‘Jonas,’ or ‘Asa,’ or ‘Jabez,’ or
‘Abijah,’ or ‘Phineas,’ or ‘Priscilla,’ or ‘Epaphroditus,’ abound on
every hand. Sobriquets like ‘Faith,’ and ‘Hope,’ and ‘Charity,’ and
‘Patience,’ and ‘Prudence,’ and ‘Grace,’ and ‘Mercy,’ have become
literally as household words, and names yet more uncouth and strange may
be heard every day, sounding oddly indeed to English ears. There would
seem to have been a revulsion of feeling, even from such of the Biblical
names as had lived in the earlier centuries of our history, as if the
connexion of ‘Peter,’ and ‘John,’ and ‘James,’ and ‘Thomas’ with others
of more pagan origin had made them unworthy of further use; certain it
is, that these are in no way so familiar with them as with us. Such are
the strange humours that pass over the hearts of men and communities.
Such are the changes that the nomenclature of peoples, as well as of
places and things, undergo through the more extraordinary convulsions
which sometimes seize the body corporate of society. Truly it is a
strange story this that our surnames tell us. ‘What’s in a name?’ in the
light of all this, seems indeed but a pleasantry, meant to denote how
full, how teeming with the story of our lives is each—as so they are.
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