Nor is the name Coster to be referred to costermonger, originally a

dealer in costards, i.e. apples. It is sometimes for Mid. Eng.

costard (cf. such names as Cherry and Plumb), but may also represent

Port. da Costa and Ger. Köster, both of which are found in early

lists of Protestant refugees.

Jagger was a north-country name for a man who worked draught-horses

for hire. Mr. Hardy's novel Under the Greenwood Tree opens with "the

Tranter's party." A carrier is still a "tranter" in Wessex. In

Medieval Latin he was called travetarius, a word apparently connected

with Lat. transvehere, to transport.

CHAPTER XX. OFFICIAL AND DOMESTIC

"Big fleas have little fleas

Upon their backs to bite 'em

Little fleas have smaller fleas,

And so ad infinitum."

Anon.

It is a well-known fact that official nomenclature largely reflects

the simple housekeeping of early times, and that many titles, now of

great dignity, were originally associated with rather lowly duties.

We have seen an example in Stewart. Another is Chamberlain. Hence

surnames drawn from this class are susceptible of very varied

interpretation. A Chancellor was originally a man in charge of a

chancel, or grating, Lat. cancelli. In Mid. English it is usually

glossed scriba, while it is now limited to very high judicial or

political office. Bailey, as we have seen (Chapter IV), has also a

wide range of meanings, the ground idea being that of care-taker.

Cotgrave explains Old Fr. mareschal maréchal as--

"A marshall of a kingdoms, or of a camp (an honourable place); also, a

blacksmith; also, a farrier, horse-leech, or horse-smith; also, a

harbinger,"

[Footnote: i.e. a quartermaster. See Romance of Words, ch. vii.]

which gives a considerable choice of origins to any modern Marshall or

Maskell.

Another very vague term is sergeant, whence our Sargent. Its oldest

meaning is servant, Lat. serviens, servient--. Cotgrave defines

sergent as--

"A sergeant, officer, catchpole, pursuyvant, apparitor; also (in Old

Fr.) a footman, or souldier that serves on foot." I

Probably catchpole was the commonest meaning--

"Sargeauntes, katche pollys, and somners" (Cocke Lorelles Bote).

The administration of justice occupied a horde of officials, from the

Justice down to the Catchpole. The official title Judge is rarely

found, and this surname is usually from the female name Judge, which,

like Jug, was used for Judith, and later for Jane--

"Jannette, Judge, Jennie; a woman's name" (Cotgrave).

The names Judson and Juxon sometimes belong to these. Catchpole has

nothing to do with poles or polls. It is a Picard cache-poule

(chasse-poule), collector of poultry in default of money. Another

name for judge was Dempster, the pronouncer of doom, a title which

still exists in the Isle of Man. We also find Deemer--

"Demar, judicator" (Prompt. Parv.).

Mayor is a learned spelling of Mair, Fr. maire, Lat. major, but Major,

which looks like its latinized form, is perhaps imitative for the Old

French personal name Mauger. Bishop Mauger of Worcester pronounced

the interdict in 1208, and the surname still exists.

Gaylor, Galer, is the Norman pronunciation of gaoler--

"And Palamon, this woful prisoner,

As was his wone, bi leve of his gayler,

Was risen" (A, 1064).

THE HOUSEHOLD

Usher is Fr. huissier, door-keeper, Fr. huis, door, Lat. ostium. I

conjecture that Lusher is the French name Lhuissier, and that Lush is

local, for Old Fr. le huis; cf. Laporte. Wait, corruptly Weight, now

used only of a Christmas minstrel, was once a watchman. It is a

dialect form of Old Fr. gaite, cognate with watch. The older sense

survives in the expression "to lie in wait." Gate is the same name,

when not local (Chapter XIII).

The Todhunter, or fox-hunter (Chapter XXIII), was an official whose

duty was to exterminate the animal now so carefully preserved. Warner

is often for Warrener. The Grosvenor (gros veneur), great hunter, was

a royal servant. Bannerman is found latinized as Penninger (Chapter

XV). Herald may be official or from Harold (Chapter VII), the

derivation being in any case the same. Toller means a collector of

tolls. Cocke Lorelle speaks of these officials as "false Towlers."

Connected with administration is the name Mainprice, lit. taken by

hand, used both for a surety and a man out on bail--

"Maynprysyd, or memprysyd, manucaptus, fideijussus" (Prompt. Parv.);

and Shurety also exists.

The individual bigwig had a very large retinue, the members of which

appear to have held very strongly to the theory of one man, one job.

The Nurse, or Norris, Fr. nourrice, was apparently debarred from

rocking the cradle. This was the duty of the rocker--

"To the norice and rokker of the same lord, 25s. 8d."

(Household Accounts of Elizabeth of York, March, 1503),

from whom Mr. Roker, chief turnkey at the Fleet in Mr. Pickwick's

time, may have sprung The Cook was assisted by the Baster and Hasler,

or turnspit, the latter from Old Fr. hastille, spit, dim. of Lat.

hasta, spear. The Chandler was a servant as well as a manufacturer.

A Trotter and a Massinger, i.e. messenger, were perhaps much the same

thing. Wardroper is of course wardrobe keeper, but Chaucer uses

wardrope (B. 1762) in the sense which Fr. garde-robe now usually has.

The Lavender, Launder or Lander saw to the washing. Napier, from Fr.

nappe, cloth, meant the servant who looked after the napery. The

martial sound with which this distinguished name strikes a modern ear

is due to historical association, assisted, as I have somewhere read,

by its riming with rapier! The water-supply was in charge of the

Ewer.

The provisioning of the great house was the work of the Lardner, Fr.

lard, bacon, the Panter, or Pantler, who was, at least etymologically,

responsible for bread, and the Cator (Chapter III) and Spencer

(Chapter III), whose names, though of opposite meaning, buyer and

spender, come to very much the same thing. Spence is still the

north-country word for pantry, and is used by Tennyson in the sense of

refectory--

"Bluff Harry broke into the Spence

And turn'd the cowls adrift."

(The Talking Oak, 1. 47.)

Purser, now used in connection with ships only, was also a medieval

form of bursar, and every castle and monastery had its almoner, now

Amner. Here also belongs Carver. In Ivey Church (Bucks) is a tablet

to Lady Mary Salter with a poetic tribute to her husband--

"Full forty years a carver to two kings."

As the importance of the horse led to the social elevation of the

marshal and constable (Chapter IV), so the hengstman, now henchman,

became his master's right-hand man. The first element is Anglo-Sax.

hengest, stallion, and its most usual surnominal forms are Hensman and

Hinxman. Historians now regard Hengist and Horsa, stallion and mare,

as nicknames assumed by Jutish braves on the war-path. Sumpter, Old

Fr. sommetier, from Somme, burden, was used both of a packhorse and

its driver, its interpretation in King Lear being a matter of dispute--

"Return with her?

Persuade me rather to be slave and Sumpter

To this detested groom" (Lear, ii, 4).

As a surname it probably means the driver, Medieval Lat. sumetarius.

Among those who ministered to the great man's pleasures we must

probably reckon Spelman, Speller, Spillman, Spiller, from Mid. Eng.

spel, a speech, narrative, but proof of this is lacking

"Now holde your mouth, par charitee,

Bothe knyght and lady free,

And herkneth to my spelle" (B, 2081).

The cognate Spielmann, lit. Player, was used in Medieval German of a

wandering minstrel.

The poet is now Rymer or Rimmer, while Trover, Fr. trouvère, a poet,

minstrel, lit. finder, has been confused with Trower, for Thrower, a

name connected with weaving. Even the jester has come down to us as

Patch, a name given regularly to this member of the household in

allusion to his motley attire. Shylock applies it, to Launcelot--

"The patch is kind enough; but a huge feeder."

(Merchant of Venice, ii. 5.)

But the name has another origin (Chapter IX). Buller and Cocker are

names taken from the fine old English sports of bull-baiting and

cock-fighting.

Two very humble members of the parasitic class have given the names

Bidder and Maunder, both meaning beggar. The first comes from Mid.

Eng. bidden, to ask. Piers Plowman speaks of "bidderes and beggers."

Maunder is perhaps connected with Old Fr. quemander--

"Quemander, or caimander, to beg; or goe a begging; to beg from doore

to doore" (Cotgrave),

but it may mean a maker of "maunds," i.e. baskets.

A Beadman spent his time in praying for his benefactor. A medieval

underling writing to his superior often signs himself "your servant

and bedesman."

CHAPTER XXI. OF NICKNAMES IN GENERAL

"Here is Wyll Wyly the myl pecker,

And Patrick Pevysshe heerbeter,

With lusty Hary Hangeman,

Nexte house to Robyn Renawaye;

Also Hycke Crokenec the rope maker,

And Steven Mesyllmouthe muskyll taker."

(Cocke Lorelles Bote.)

[Footnote: This humorous poem, inspired by Sebastian Brandt's

Narrenschiff, known in England in Barclay's translation, was printed

early in the reign of Henry VIII. It contains the fullest list we

have of old trade-names.]

Every family name is etymologically a nickname, i.e. an eke-name,

intended to give that auxiliary information which helps in

identification. But writers on surnames have generally made a special

class of those epithets which were originally conferred on the bearer

in connection with some characteristic feature, physical or moral, or

some adjunct, often of the most trifling description, with which his

personality was associated. Of nicknames, as of other things, it may

be said that there is nothing new under the sun. Ovidius Naso might

have received his as a schoolboy, and Moss cum nano, whom we find in

Suffolk in 1184, lives on as "Nosey Moss" in Whitechapel. Some of our

nicknames occur as personal names in Anglo-Saxon times (Chapter VII),

but as surnames they are seldom to be traced back to that period, for

the simple reason that such names were not hereditary. An Anglo-Saxon

might be named Wulf, but his son would bear another name, while our

modern Wolfe does not usually go farther back than some Ranulf le wolf

of the thirteenth or fourteenth century. This is of course stating

the case broadly, because the personal name Wolf also persisted and

became in some cases a surname. In this and the following chapters I

do not generally attempt to distinguish between such double origins.

Nicknames are formed in very many ways, but the two largest classes

are sobriquets taken from the names of animals, e.g. Hogg, or from

adjectives, either alone or accompanied by a noun, e.g. Dear,

Goodfellow. Each of these classes requires a chapter to itself, while

here we may deal with the smaller groups.

Some writers have attempted to explain all apparent nicknames as

popular perversions of surnames belonging to the other three classes.

As the reader will already have noticed, such perversions are

extremely common, but it is a mistake to try to account for obvious

nicknames in this way. Any of us who retain a vivid recollection of

early days can call to mind nicknames of the most fantastic kind, and

in some cases of the most apparently impossible formation, which stuck

to their possessors all through school-life. A very simple test for

the genuineness of a nickname is a comparison with other languages.

Camden says that Drinkwater is a corruption of Derwentwater. The

incorrectness of this guess is shown by the existence as surnames of

Fr. Boileau, It. Bevilacqua, and Ger. Trinkwasser. It is in fact a

perfectly natural nickname for a medieval eccentric, the more normal

attitude being represented by Roger Beyvin (boi-vin), who died in

London in 1277.

FOREIGN NICKNAMES

Corresponding to our Goodday, we find Ger. Gutentag and Fr. Bonjour.

The latter has been explained as from a popular form of George, but

the English and German names show that the explanation is.

unnecessary. With Dry we may compare Fr. Lesec and Ger. Dürr, with

Garlick Ger. Knoblauch (Chapter XV), and with Shakespeare Ger.

Schüttespeer. Luck is both for Luke and Luick (Liège, Chapter XI),

but Rosa Bonheur and the composer Gluck certify it also as a nickname.

Merryweather is like Fr. Bontemps, and Littleboy appears in the Paris

Directory as Petitgas, gas being the same as gars, the old nominative

(Chapter I) of garçon--

"Gars, a lad, boy, stripling, youth, yonker" (Cotgrave).

Bardsley explains Twentyman as an imitative corruption of twinter-man,

the man in charge of the twinters, two-year-old colts. This may be

so, but there is a German confectioner in Hampstead called Zwanziger,

and there are Parisians named Vingtain. Lover is confirmed by the

French surnames Amant and Lamoureux, and Wellbeloved by Bienaimé.

Allways may be the literal equivalent of the French name Partout. On

the other hand, the name Praisegod Barebones has been wrongly fixed on

an individual whose real name was Barbon or Barborne.

It may seem strange that the nickname, conferred essentially on the

individual, and often of a very offensive character, should have

persisted and become hereditary. But schoolboys know that, in the

case of an unpleasant nickname, the more you try to pull it off, the

more it sticks the faster. Malapert and Lehideux are still well

represented in the Paris Directory. Many objectionable nicknames

have, however, disappeared, or have been so modified as to become

inoffensive.

Sometimes such disappearance has resulted from the depreciation in the

meaning of a word, e.g. le lewd, the layman, the unlettered, was once

as common as its opposite le learned, whence the name Larned. But

many uncomplimentary names are no longer objected to because their

owners do not know their earlier meanings. A famous hymn-writer of

the eighteenth century bore all unconsciously a surname that would

almost have made Rabelais blush. Drinkdregs, Drunkard, Sourale,

Sparewater, Sweatinbed, etc. have gone, but we still have Lusk--

"Falourdin, a luske, loot, lurden, a lubberlie sloven, heavie sot,

lumpish hoydon" (Cotgrave)--

and many other names which can hardly have gratified their original

possessors.

A very interesting group of surnames consists of those which indicate

degrees of kinship or have to do with the relations existing between

individuals. We find both Master and Mann, united in Masterman,

meaning the man in the service of one locally known as the master.

With this we may compare Ladyman, Priestman, etc. But Mann is often of

local origin, from the Isle of Man. In some cases such names are

usually found with the patronymic -s, e.g. Masters, Fellows, while in

others this is regularly absent, e.g. Guest, Friend. The latter name

is sometimes a corruption of Mid. Eng. fremed, stranger, cognate with

Ger. fremd, so that opposite terms, which we find regularly contrasted

in Mid. Eng. "frend and fremed," have become absorbed in one surname.

The frequent occurrence of Fellows is due to its being sometimes for

the local Fallows. From Mid. Eng. fere, a companion, connected with

faren, to travel, we get Littlefair and Playfair. In Wyclif's Bible

we read that Jephthah's daughter--

"Whanne sche hadde go with hir felowis and pleiferis, sche biwept hir

maydynhed in the hillis" (Judges xi. 38).

Springett is for springald, and Arlett is Mid. Eng. harlot, fellow,

rascal, a word which has changed its gender and meaning--

"He was a gentil harlot and a kynde,

A betre felawe sholde men noght fynde."

(A, 647.)

KINSHIP

In surnames taken from words indicating family relationship we come

across some survivals of terms no longer used, or occurring only in

rustic dialect. The Mid. Eng. eme, uncle, cognate with Ger. Oheim,

has given Eames. In Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde, the heroine

addresses Pandarus as "uncle dere" and "uncle mine," but also uses the

older word--

"'In good feith, em,' quod she, 'that liketh me'" (ii. 162);

and the word is used more than once by Scott--

"Didna his eme die. . . wi' the name of the Bluidy Mackenzie?"

(Heart of Midlothian, ch. xii.)

It is also one of the sources of Empson, which thus corresponds to

Cousins or Cozens. In Neame we have a prosthetic n- due to the

frequent occurrence of min eme (cf. the Shakespearean nuncle, Lear, i.

4). The names derived from cousin have been reinforced by those from

Cuss, i.e. Constant or Constance (Chapter X). Thus Cussens is from

the Mid. English dim. Cussin. Anglo-Sax. nefa, whence Mid. Eng. neve,

neave, is cognate with, but not derived from, Lat. nepos. [Footnote:

In all books on surnames that I have come across this is referred to

Old Fr. le neve. There is no such word in old French, which has nom.

niés, acc. neveu.]

This is now replaced as a common noun by the French word nephew, but

it survives in the surname Neave. It also meant in Mid. English a

prodigal or parasite, as did also Lat. nepos--

"Neve, neverthryfte, or wastowre" (Prompt. Parv.).

It is likely that Nevison and Nevinson are sometimes derivatives of

this word.

Child was sometimes used in the special sense of youth of gentle

blood, or young knight; cf. Childe Harold and Childe Rowland (Lear,

iii. 4). But the more general meaning may be assumed in its

compounds, of which the most interesting is Leifchild, dear-child, a

fairly common name in Anglo-Saxon. The corresponding Faunt, whence

Fauntleroy (Chapter XV), is now rare. Another word, now only used in

dialect or by affectation, is "bairn," a frequent source of the very

common surname Barnes; cf. Fairbairn and Goodbairn, often perverted to

Fairburn, Goodburn, Goodban. Barnfather is about equivalent to Lat.

paterfamilias, but Pennefather is an old nickname for a miser--

"Caqueduc, a niggard, micher, miser, scrape-good, pinch-penny,

penny-father; a covetous and greedy wretch" (Cotgrave).

The name Bastard was once considered no disgrace if the dishonour came

from a noble source, and several great medieval warriors bore this

sobriquet. With this we may compare Leman or Lemon, Mid. Eng.

leof-man, dear man, beloved, and Paramor, Fr. par amour, an example of

an adverbial phrase that has become a noun. This expression, used of

lawful love in Old French, in the stock phrase "aimer une belle dame

par amour," had already an evil meaning by Chaucer's time--

"My fourthe housbonde was a revelour,

This is to seyn, he hadde a paramour" (D, 453).

With these names we may put Drewry or Drury, sweetheart, from the Old

French abstract druerie, of Germanic origin and cognate with true--

"For certeynly no such beeste

To be loved is not worthy,

Or bere the name of druerie."

(Romaunt of the Rose, 5062.)

Suckling is a nickname applied to a helpless person; cf. Littlechild

and "milksop," which still exists, though rare, in the forms Milsopp

and Mellsop. The heir survives as Ayre and Eyre. Batchelor, the

origin of which is one of the etymological problems yet unsolved, had

in Old French and Mid. English also the meaning of young warrior or

squire. Chaucer's Squier is described as--

"A lovyere and a lusty bacheler" (A, 80).

May, maiden, whence Mildmay, is used by Chaucer for the Holy Virgin

"Now, lady bright, to whom alle woful cryen,

Thow glorie of wommanhede, thow faire may,

Thow haven of refut, brighte sterre of day" (B, 850).

This is the same word as Mid. Eng. mai, relative, cognate with maid

and Gaelic Mac- (Chapter VI). A form of it survives in the Nottingham

name Watmough and perhaps in Hickmott--

"Mow, housbandys sister or syster in law" (Prompt. Parv.).

I imagine that William Echemannesmai, who owed the Treasury a mark in

1182, was one of the sponging fraternity.

Virgoe, a latinization of Virgin, is perhaps due to a shop-sign.

Rigmaiden, explained by Lower as "a romping girl," is local, from a

place in Westmorland. Richard de Riggemayden was living in Lancashire

in 1307. With this group of names we may put Gossip, originally a

god-parent, lit. related in God, from Mid. Eng. sib, kin.

With names like Farebrother, Goodfellow, we may compare some of French

origin such as Bonser (bon sire), Bonamy, and Bellamy

"Thou beel amy, thou pardoner, he sayde,

Telle us som myrth, or japes, right anon."

(B, 318.)

Beldam (belle dame), originally a complimentary name for grandmother

or grandam, has become uncomplimentary in meaning--

First Witch. "Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly."

Hecate. "Have I not reason, beldams as you are,

Saucy and overbold?" (Macbeth, iii. 5).

From the corresponding Old Fr. bel-sire, beau-sire, we have Bewsher,

Bowser, and the Picard form Belcher

"The great belsire, the grandsire, sire, and sonne,

Lie here interred under this grave stone."

(Weever, Ancient Funeral Monuments.)

Relationship was often expressed by the use of French words, so that

for son-in-law we find Gender, Ginder, corresponding to Fr. Legendre.

Fitch, usually an animal nickname (Chapter XXIII), is occasionally for

le fiz, the son, which also survives as Fitz. Goodson, from the

personal name Good (Chapter I), is sometimes registered as Fiz Deu.

Cf. Fr. Lefilleul, i.e. the godson.

ABSTRACTS

A possible derivative of the name May (Chapter XXI) is Ivimey. Holly

and Ivy were the names of characters in Christmas games, and an old

rime says

"Holy and his mery men, they dawnsyn and they syng,

Ivy and hur maydins, they wepen and they wryng."

If Ivimey is from this source, the same origin must sometimes be

allowed to Holliman (Chapter I). This conjecture [Footnote: Probably

a myth. See my Surnames, p. 197.] has in its favour the fact that

many of our surnames are undoubtedly derived from characters assumed

in dramatic performances and popular festivities. To this class

belong many surnames which have the form of abstract nouns, e.g.

Charity, Verity, Virtue, Vice. Of similar origin are perhaps Bliss,

Chance, Luck, and Goodluck; cf. Bonaventure. Love, Luff, occurs

generally as a personal name, hence the dim. Lufkins, but it is

sometimes a nickname. Lovell, Lovett, more often mean little wolf.

Both Louvet and Louveau are common French surnames. The name Lovell,

in the wolf sense, was often applied to a dog, as in the famous

couplet

"The ratte, the catte, and Lovell, our dogge

Rule all England under the hogge,"

for which William Collingborne was executed in 1484. Lowell is a

variant of Lovell.

But many apparent abstract names are due to folk-etymology, e.g.

Marriage is local, Old Fr. marage, marsh, and Wedlock is imitative for

Wedlake; cf. Mortlock for Mortlake and perhaps Diplock for deep-lake.

Creed is the Anglo-Saxon personal name Creda. Revel, a common French

surname, is a personal name of obscure origin. Want is the Mid. Eng.

wont, mole, whence Wontner, mole-catcher. It is difficult to see how

such names as Warr, Battle, and Conquest came into existence. The

former, found as de la warre, is no doubt sometimes local (Chapter

XIII), and Battle is a dim. of Bat (Chapter VI). But de la batayle is

also a common entry, and Laguerre and Labataille are common French

surnames.

COSTUME

A nickname was often conferred in connection with some external object

regularly associated with the individual. Names taken from shop-signs

really belong to this class. Corresponding to our Hood [Footnote:

Hood may also be for Hud (Chapter I), but the garment is made into a

personal name in Little Red Ridinghood, who is called in French le

petit Chaperon Rouge.] we have Fr. Capron (chaperon). Burdon, Fr.

bourdon, meant a staff, especially a pilgrim's staff. Daunger is

described as having--

"In his honde a gret burdoun"

(Romaunt of the Rose, 3401).

But the name Burdon is also local. Bracegirdle, i.e. breeks-girdle,

must have been the nickname of one who wore a gorgeous belt. It is a

curious fact that this name is chiefly found in the same region

(Cheshire) as the somewhat similar Broadbelt. The Sussex name Quaile

represents the Norman pronunciation of coif. More usually an

adjective enters into such combinations. With the historic Curthose,

Longsword, Strongbow we may compare Shorthouse, a perversion of

shorthose, Longstaff, Horlock (hoar), Silverlock, Whitlock, etc.

Whitehouse is usually of local origin, but has also absorbed the

medieval names Whitehose and White-hawse, the latter from Mid. Eng.

hawse, neck. Woollard may be the Anglo-Saxon personal name Wulfweard,

but is more probably from woolward, i.e. without linen, a costume

assumed as a sign of penitence

"Wolwarde, without any lynnen nexte ones body, sans chemyse."

(Palsgrave.)

The three names Medley, Medlicott, and Motley go together, though all

three of them may be local (the mid-lea, the middle-cot, and the

moat-lea). Medley mixed, is the Anglo-French past participle of Old

Fr. mesler (mêler). Motley is of unknown origin, but it was not

necessarily a fool's dress--

"A marchant was ther with a forked berd,

In mottelye, and hye on horse he sat,

Upon his heed a Flaundryssh bevere hat" (A, 270).

So also the Serjeant of the Law was distinguished his, for the period,

plain dress--

"He rood but hoomly in a medlee cote" (A, 328).

Gildersleeve is now rare in England, though it still flourishes in the

United States. [Footnote: We have several instances of this

phenomenon. A familiar example is Lippincott, a surname of local

origin (Devonshire). But Bardsley's inclusion of American statistics

is often misleading. It is a well-known fact that the foreign names

of immigrants are regularly assimilated to English forms in the United

States. In some cases, such as Cook for Koch, Cope (Chapter XII) for

Kopf, Stout (Chapter XXII) for Stolz or Stultz, the change is

etymologically justified. But in other cases, such as Tallman for

Thalmann, dale-man, Trout for Traut, faithful, the resemblance is

accidental. Beam and Chestnut, common in the States but very rare in

England, represent an imitative form of Böhm or Behm, Bohemian, and a

translation of Kestenbaum, chestnut tree, both Jewish names. The

Becks and Bowmans of New York outnumber those of London by about five

to one, the first being for Beck, baker (Chapter XV), and the second

for Baumann, equivalent to Bauer, farmer. Bardsley explains the

common American name Arrison by the fact that there are Cockneys in

America. It comes of course from Arend, a Dutch name related to

Arnold.

"A remarkable record in changes of surname was cited some years ago by

an American correspondent of Notes and Queries. 'The changes which

befell a resident of New Orleans were that when he moved from an

American quarter to a German neighbourhood his name of Flint became

Feuerstein, which for convenience was shortened to Stein. Upon his

removal to a French district he was re-christened Pierre. Hence upon

his return to an English neighbourhood he was translated into Peters,

and his first neighbours were surprised and puzzled to find Flint

turned Peters.'"

(Daily Chronicle, April 4, 1913.)]

PHYSICAL FEATURES

Names like Beard, Chinn, Tooth were conferred because of some

prominent feature. In Anglo-French we find Gernon, moustache, now

corrupted to Garnham, and also al gernon, with the moustache, which

has become Algernon. But we have already seen (Chapter XIII) that

some names which appear to belong to this class are of local origin.

So also Tongue is derived from one of several places named Tong or

Tonge, though the ultimate origin is perhaps in some cases the same, a

"tongue" of land. Quartermain is for Quatre-mains, perhaps bestowed

on a very acquisitive person; Joscius Quatre-buches, four mouths, and

Roger Tunekes, two necks, were alive in the twelfth century; and there

is record of a Saracen champion named Quinze-paumes, though this is

perhaps rather a measure of height. Cheek I conjecture to be for

Chick. The odd-looking Kidney is apparently Irish. There is a rare

name Poindexter, appearing in French as Poingdestre, "right fist."

[Footnote: President Poincaré's name appears to mean "square fist."]

I have seen it explained as from the heraldic term point dexter, but

it is rather to be taken literally. I find Johannes cum pugno in

1184, and we can imagine that such a name may have been conferred on a

medieval bruiser. There is also the possibility, considering the

brutality of many old nicknames, that the bearer of the name had been

judicially deprived of his right hand, a very common punishment,

especially for striking a feudal superior. Thus Renaut de Montauban,

finding that his unknown opponent is Charlemagne, exclaims--

"J'ai forfait le poing destre dont je l'ai adesé (struck)."

We have some nicknames describing gait, e.g. Ambler and Shaylor--

"I shayle, as a man or horse dothe that gothe croked with his leggs,

je vas eschays" (Palsgrave)--

and perhaps sometimes Trotter. If George Eliot had been a student of

surnames she would hardly have named a heroine Nancy Lammiter, i.e.

cripple--

"Though ye may think him a lamiter, yet, grippie for grippie, he'll

make the bluid spin frae under your nails" (Black Dwarf, ch. xvii.).

Pettigrew and Pettifer are of French origin, pied de grue (crane) and

pied de fer. The former is the origin of the word pedigree, from a

sign used in drawing genealogical trees. The Buckinghamshire name

Puddifoot or Puddephatt (Podefat, 1273) and the aristocratic

Pauncefote are unsolved. The former may be a corruption of Pettifer,

which occurs commonly, along with the intermediate Puddifer, in the

same county. But the English Dialect Dictionary gives as an obsolete

Northants word the adjective puddy, stumpy, pudgy, applied especially

to hands, fingers, etc., and Pudito (puddy toe) occurs as a surname in

the Hundred Rolls. As for Pauncefote, I believe it simply means what

it appears to, viz. "belly-foot," a curious formation, though not

without parallels, among obsolete rustic nicknames. If these two

conjectures are correct, both Puddifoot and Pauncefote may be almost

literal equivalents of the Greek OEdipus, i.e. "swell-foot."

In other languages as well as English we find money nicknames. It is

easy to understand how some of these come into existence, e.g. that

Pierce. Pennilesse was the opposite of Thomas Thousandpound, whose

name occurs c. 1300. With the latter we may compare Fr. Centlivre,

the name of an English lady dramatist of the eighteenth century.

Moneypenny is found in 1273 as Manipeni, and a Londoner named Manypeny

died in 1348. The Money- is partly north country, partly imitative.

Money itself is usually occupative or local (Chapter XVII), and

Shilling is the Anglo-Saxon name Scilling. The oldest and commonest

of such nicknames is the simple Penny, with which we may compare the

German surname Pfennig and its compounds Barpfennig, Weisspfennig,

etc. The early adoption of this coin-name as a personal name is due

to the fact that the word was taken in the sense of money in general.

We still speak of a rich man as "worth a pretty penny." Hallmark is

folk-etymology for the medieval Half-mark. Such medieval names as

Four-pence, Twenty-mark, etc., probably now obsolete, are paralleled

by Fr. Quatresous and Sixdenier, still to be found in the Paris

Directory. It would be easy to form conjectures as to the various

ways in which such names may have come into existence. To the same

class must belong Besant, the name of a coin from Byzantium, its

foreign origin giving it a dignity which is absent from the native

Farthing and Halfpenny, though the latter, in one instance, was

improved beyond recognition into MacAlpine.

IMPRECATIONS

There is also a small group of surnames derived from oaths or

exclamations which by habitual use became associated with certain

individuals. We know that monarchs had a special tendency to indulge

in a favourite expletive. To Roger de Collerye we owe some

information as to the imprecations preferred by four French kings--

"Quand la Pasque-Dieu (Louis XI.) décéda,

Le Bon Jour Dieu (Charles VIII.) luy succéda,

Au Bon Jour Dieu deffunct et mort

Succéda le Dyable m'emport (Louis XII).

Luy décédé, nous voyons comme

Nous duist (governs) la Foy de Gentilhomme (Francis I.)."

So important was this branch of linguistics once considered that

Palsgrave, the French tutor of Princess Mary Tudor, includes in his

Esclarcissement de la Langue Francoyse a section on "The Maners of

Cursyng." Among the examples are "Le grant diable luy rompe le col et

les deux jambes," "Le diable l'emporte, corps et ame, tripes et

boyaux," which were unfortunately too long for surname purposes, but

an abridged form of "Le feu Saint Anthoyne l'arde" [Footnote: Saint

Anthony's fire, i.e. erysipelas, burn him!] has given the French name

Feulard. Such names, usually containing the name of God, e.g.

Godmefetch, Helpusgod, have mostly disappeared in this country; but

Dieuleveut and Dieumegard are still found in Paris, and Gottbehüt, God

forbid, and Gotthelf, God help, occur in German. Godbehere still

exists, and there is not the slightest reason why it should not be of

the origin which its form indicates. In Gracedieu, thanks to God, the

second element is an Old French dative. Pardoe, Purdue, whence

Purdey, is for par Dieu--

"I have a wyf pardee, as wel as thow" (A, 3158).

There is a well-known professional footballer named Mordue ('sdeath),

and a French composer named Boieldieu (God's bowels). The French

nickname for an Englishman, goddam--

"Those syllables intense,

Nucleus of England's native eloquence"

(Byron, The Island, iii. 5)--

goes back to the fifteenth century, in which invective references to

the godons are numerous. [Footnote: "Les Anglais en vérité ajoutent

par-ci, par-là quelques autres mots en conversant; mais il est bien

aisé de voir que goddam est le fond de la langue" (Beaumarchais,

Mariage de Figaro, iii. 5).]

Such nicknames are still in common use in some parts of France--

"Les Berrichons se désignent souvent par le juron qui leur est

familier. Ainsi ils diront: 'Diable me brûle est bien malade. Nom

d'un rat est à la foire. La femme à Diable m'estrangouille est morte.

Le garçon à Bon You (Dieu) se marie avec la fille à Dieu me confonde.'"

(Nyrop, Grammaire historique de la langue française, iv. 209).

PHRASE-NAMES

Perhaps the most interesting group of nicknames is that of which we

may take Shakespeare as the type. Incidentally we should be thankful

that our greatest poet bore a name so much more picturesque than

Corneille, crow, or Racine, root. It is agreed among all competent

scholars that in compounds of this formation the verb was originally

an imperative. This is shown by the form; cf. ne'er-do-well, Fr.

vaurien, Ger. Taugenichts, good-for-naught. Thus Hasluck cannot

belong to this class, but must be an imitative form of the personal

name Aslac, which we find in Aslockton.

As Bardsley well says, it is impossible to retail all the nonsense

that has been written about the name Shakespeare--"never a name in

English nomenclature so simple or so certain in its origin; it is

exactly what it looks--shake-spear." The equivalent Schüttespeer is

found in German, and we have also in English Shakeshaft, Waghorn,

Wagstaff, Breakspear, Winspear. "Winship the mariner" was a freeman

of York in the fourteenth century. Cf. Benbow (bend-bow), Hurlbatt,

and the less athletic Lovejoy, Makepeace. Gathergood and its opposite

Scattergood are of similar origin, good having here the sense of

goods. Dogood is sometimes for Toogood, and the latter may be, like

Thoroughgood, an imitative form of Thurgod (Chapter VII); but both

names may also be taken literally, for we find Ger. Thunichtgut, do no

good, and Fr. Trodoux (trop doux).

As a pendant to Dolittle we find a medieval Hack-little, no doubt a

lazy wood-cutter, while virtue is represented by a twelfth-century

Tire-little. Sherwin represents the medieval Schere-wynd, applied to

a swift runner; cf. Ger. Schneidewind, cut wind, and Fr. Tranchevent.

A nurseryman at Highgate has the appropriate name Cutbush, the French

equivalent of which, Taillebois, has given us Tallboys; and a famous

herbalist was named Culpepper. In Gathercole the second element may

mean cabbage or charcoal. In one case, Horniblow for horn-blow, the

verb comes after its object.

Names of this formation are very common in Mid. English as in Old

French, and often bear witness to a violent or brutal nature. Thus

Scorch-beef, which is found in the Hundred Rolls, has no connection

with careless cookery; it is Old Fr. escorche (écorche) -buef, flay

ox, a name given to some medieval "Skin-the-goat." Catchpole (Chapter

XX) is formed in the same way, and in French we find, applied to law

officials, the surnames Baillehart, give halter, [Footnote: Bailler,

the usual Old French for to give, is still used colloquially and in

dialect.] and Baillehache, give axe, the latter still appropriately

borne, as Bailhache, by an English judge.

It has sometimes been assumed that most names of this class are due to

folk-etymology. The frequency of their occurrence in Mid. English and

in continental languages makes it certain that the contrary is the

case and that many surnames of obscure origin are perversions of this

very large and popular class. I have seen it stated somewhere that

Shakespeare is a corruption of an Old French name Sacquespée,

[Footnote: Of common occurrence in Mid. English records.] the

theorist being apparently unable to see that this latter, meaning

draw-sword, is merely an additional argument, if such were needed, for

the literal interpretation of the English name. [Footnote: In one

day's reading I came across the following Mid. English names:

Baillebien (give good), Baysedame (kiss lady), Esveillechien (wake

dog), Lievelance (raise lance), Metlefrein (put the bridle),

Tracepurcel (track hog), Turnecotel (turn coat), together with the

native Cachehare and Hoppeschort.]

Tredgold seems to have been conferred on some medieval stoic, for we

find also Spurnegold. Without pinning our faith to any particular

anecdote, we need have no hesitation in accepting Turnbull as a

sobriquet conferred for some feat of strength and daring on a stalwart

Borderer. We find the corresponding Tornebeuf in Old French, and

Turnbuck also occurs. Trumbull and Trumble are variants due to

metathesis followed by assimilation (Chapter III), while Tremble is a

very degenerate form. In Knatchbull we have the obsolete verb knatch,

which in Mid. English meant to strike on the head, fell. Crawcour is

Fr. Crèvecoeur, breakheart, which has also become a local name in

France. With Shacklock, shake-lock, and Sherlock, Shurlock,

shear-lock, we may compare Robin Hood's comrade Scathelock, though the

precise interpretation of all three names is difficult. Rackstraw,

rake-straw, corresponds to Fr. Grattepaille. Golightly means much the

same as Lightfoot (Chapter XIII), nor need we hesitate to regard the

John Gotobed who lived in Cambridgeshire in 1273 as a notorious

sluggard compared with whom his neighbour Serl Gotokirke was a shining

example. [Footnote: The name is still found in the same county.

Undergraduates contemporary with the author occasionally slaked their

thirst at a riverside inn kept by Bathsheba Gotobed.]

Telfer is Fr. Taillefer, the iron cleaver, and Henry II.'s yacht

captain was Alan Trenchemer, the sea cleaver. He had a contemporary

named Ventados, wind abaft.

Slocomb has assumed a local aspect, but may very well correspond to

Fr. Tardif or Ger. Mühsam, applied to some Weary Willie of the Middle

Ages. Doubtfire is a misspelling of Dout-fire, from the dialect dout,

to extinguish (do out), formed like don and doff. Fullalove, which

does not belong to the same formation, is also found as Plein d'amour--

"Of Sir Lybeux and Pleyndamour" (B, 2090)--

and corresponds to Ger. Liebevoll. Waddilove actually occurs in the

Hundred Rolls as Wade-in-love, presumably a nickname conferred on some

medieval Don Juan.

MISCELLANEOUS

There is one curious little group of nicknames which seem to

correspond to such Latin names as Piso, from pisum, a pea, and Cicero,

from cicer--

"Cicer, a small pulse, lesse than pease" (Cooper).

Such are Barleycorn and Peppercorn, the former found in French as

Graindorge. The rather romantic names Avenel and Peverel seem to be

of similar formation, from Lat. avena, oats, and piper, pepper. In

fact Peverel is found in Domesday as Piperellus, and Pepperell still

exists. With these may be mentioned Carbonel, corresponding to the

French surname Charbonneau, a little coal.

CHAPTER XXII. ADJECTIVAL NICKNAMES

"The man replied that he did not know the object of the building; and

to make it quite manifest that he really did not know, he put an

adjective before the word 'object,' and another--that is, the

same--before the word 'building.' With that he passed on his way, and

Lord Jocelyn was left marvelling at the slender resources of our

language, which makes one adjective do duty for so many

qualifications."

(BESANT, All Sorts and Conditions of Men, ch. xxxviii.)

The rejection by the British workman of all adjectives but one is due

to the same imaginative poverty which makes the adjective "nice"

supreme in refined circles, and which limits the schoolgirl to

"ripping" and her more self-conscious brother to the tempered

"decent." But dozens of useful adjectives, now either obsolete or

banished to rustic dialect, are found among our surnames. The

tendency to accompany every noun by an adjective seems to belong to

some deep-rooted human instinct. To this is partly due the Protean

character of this part of speech, for the word, like the coin, becomes

dulled and worn in circulation and needs periodically to be withdrawn

and replaced. An epithet which is complimentary in one generation is

ironical in the next and eventually offensive. Moody, with its

northern form Mudie, which now means morose, was once valiant (Chapter

I); and pert, surviving in the name Peart, meant active, brisk, etc.--

"Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth."

(Midsummer Night's Dream, i. 1.)

ARCHAIC MEANINGS

To interpret an adjectival nickname we must go to its meaning in

Chaucer and his contemporaries. Silly, Seeley, Seely

"This sely, innocent Custance" (B, 682)--

still means innocent when we speak of the "silly sheep," and happy in

the phrase "silly Suffolk." It is cognate with Ger. selig, blessed,

often used in speaking of the dead. We have compounds in Sillilant,

simple child (Chapter X), and Selibarn. Seely was also used for Cecil

or Cecilia. Sadd was once sedate and steadfast

"But thogh this mayde tendre were of age,

Yet in the brest of hire virginitee

Ther was enclosed rype and sad corage"

(E, 218);

and as late as 1660 we find a book in defence of Charles I. described

as--

"A sad and impartial inquiry whether the King or Parliament began the

war."

Stout, valiant, now used euphemistically for fat, is cognate with Ger.

stolz, proud, and possibly with Lat. stultus, foolish. The three

ideas are not incompatible, for fools are notoriously proud of their

folly and are said to be less subject to fear than the angels.

Sturdy, Sturdee, once meant rebellious, pig-headed--

"Sturdy, unbuxum, rebellis, contumax, inobediens." (Prompt. Parv.)

Cotgrave offers a much wider choice for the French original--

"Estourdi (étourdi), dulled, amazed, astonished, dizzie-headed, or

whose head seemes very much troubled; (hence) also, heedlesse,

inconsiderate, unadvised, witlesse, uncircumspect, rash, retchlesse,

or carelesse; and sottish, blockish, lumpish, lusk-like, without life,

metall, spirit"

Sly and its variant Sleigh have degenerated in the same way as crafty

and cunning, both of which once meant skilled. Chaucer calls the

wings of Daedalus "his playes slye," i.e. his ingenious contrivances.

Quick meant alert, lively, as in "the quick and the dead." Slight,

cognate with Ger. schlecht, bad, once meant plain or simple.

Many adjectives which are quite obsolete in literary English survive

as surnames. Mid. Eng. Lyle has been supplanted by its derivative

Little, the opposite pair surviving as Mutch and Mickle. The poor

parson did not fail--

"In siknesse nor in meschief to visite

The ferreste in his parisshe, muche and lyte."

(A, 493.)

We have for Lyte also the imitative Light; cf. Lightwood. With Little

may be mentioned Murch, an obsolete word for dwarf--

"Murch, lytyl man, nanus."

(Prompt. Parv.)

Lenain is a fairly common name in France. Snell, swift or valiant,

had become a personal name in Anglo-Saxon, but we find le snel in the

Middle Ages. Freake, Frick, also meant valiant or warrior--

"Ther was no freke that ther wolde flye"

(Chevy Chase);

but the Promptorium Parvulorum makes it equivalent to Craske (Chapter

XXII)--

"Fryke, or craske, in grete helth, crassus."

It is cognate with Ger. frech, which now means impudent. Nott has

already been mentioned (Chapter II). Of the Yeoman we are told--

"A not hed hadde he, with a broun visage."

(A, 109.)

Stark, cognate with starch, now usually means stiff, rather than

strong--

"I feele my lymes stark and suffisaunt

To do al that a man bilongeth to."

(E, 1458.)

DISGUISED SPELLINGS

But Stark is also for an earlier Sterk (cf. Clark and Clerk), which

represents Mid. Eng. stirk, a heifer. In the cow with the crumpled

horn we have a derivative of Mid. Eng. crum, crooked, whence the names

Crum and Crump. Ludwig's German Dict. (1715) explains krumm as

"crump, crooked, wry." The name Crook generally has the same meaning,

the Ger. Krummbein corresponding to our Cruikshank or Crookshanks. It

is possible that Glegg and Gleig are Mid. Eng. gleg, skilful, of

Scand. origin.

There are some adjectival surnames which are not immediately

recognizable. Bolt, when not local (Chapter XIII) is for bold, Leaf

is imitative for lief, i.e. dear. Dear itself is of course hopelessly

mixed up with Deer... The timorous-looking Fear is Fr. le fier, the

proud or fierce. Skey is an old form of shy; Bligh is for Blyth;

Hendy and Henty are related to handy, and had in Mid. English the

sense of helpful, courteous--

"Oure hoost tho spak, 'A, sire, ye sholde be hende

And curteys, as a man of youre estat.'"

(D, 1286.)

For Savage we find also the archaic spelling Salvage (Lat.

silvaticus). Curtis is Norman Fr. curteis (courtois). The adjective

garish, now only poetical, but once commonly applied to gaudiness in

dress, has given Gerrish. Quaint, which has so many meanings

intermediate between its etymological sense of known or familiar (Lat.

cognitus) and its present sense of unusual or unfamiliar, survives as

Quint. But Coy is usually local, from Quy (Cambridgeshire).

Orpwood is a corruption of Mid. Eng. orped, bold, warlike. Craske is

an East Anglian word for fat, and Crouse is used in the north for

sprightly, confident. To these we may add Ketch, Kedge, Gedge, from

an East Anglian adjective meaning lively--

"Kygge, or joly, jocundus" (Prompt. Parv.)--

and Spragg, etymologically akin to Spry. Bragg was once used for bold

or brave, without any uncomplimentary suggestion. The New English

Dictionary quotes (c. 1310) from a lyric poem--

"That maketh us so brag and bolde

And biddeth us ben blythe."

Crease is a West-country word for squeamish, but the East Anglian name

Creasey, Cressy, is usually for the local Kersey (Suffolk). The only

solution of Pratt is that it is Anglo-Sax. praett, cunning, adopted

early as a personal name, while Storr, of Scandinavian origin, means

big, strong. It is cognate with Steer, a bull. Devey and Dombey seem

to be diminutive forms of deaf and dumb, still used in dialect in

reference to persons thus afflicted. We find in French and German

surnames corresponding to these very natural nicknames. Cf. Crombie

from Crum (Chapter XXII).

FRENCH ADJECTIVES

A large proportion of our adjectival nicknames are of French origin.

Le bel appears not only as Bell but also, through Picard, as Beal.

Other examples are Boon, Bone, Bunn (bon), Grant (grand), Bass (bas)

and its derivative Bassett, Dasent (décent), Follett and Folliott,

dim. of fol (fou), mad, which also appears in the compound Foljambe,

Fulljames.

Mordaunt means biting. Power is generally Anglo-Fr. le poure (le

pauvre) and Grace is for le gras, the fat. Jolige represents the Old

French form of joli--

"This Absolon, that jolif was and gay,

Gooth with a sencer (censer) on the haliday."

(A, 3339.)

Prynne, now Pring, is Anglo-Fr. le prin, the first, from the Old

French adjective which survives in printemps. Cf. our name Prime and

the French name Premier. The Old French adjective Gent, now replaced

by gentil, generally means slender in Mid. English--

"Fair was this yonge wyf, and therwithal

As any wezele hir body gent and smal."

(A, 3233)

Petty and Pettit are variant forms of Fr. petit, small. In Prowse and

Prout we have the nominative and objective (Chapter I) of an Old

French adjective now represented by preux and prude, generally thought

to be related in some way to Lat. pro in prosum, and perhaps also the

source of our Proud.

Gross is of course Fr. le gros, but Grote represents Du. groot, great,

probably unconnected with the French word. The Devonshire name

Coffin, which is found in that county in the twelfth century, is the

same as Caffyn, perhaps representing Fr. Chauvin, bald, the name of

the theologian whom we know better in the latinized form Calvin. Here

belongs probably Shovel, Fr. Chauvel. We also have the simple Chaffe,

Old Fr. chauf (chauve), bald. Gaylard, sometimes made into the

imitative Gaylord, is Fr. gaillard, brisk, lively

"Gaillard he was as goldfynch in the shawe."

(A, 4367.)

COLOUR NAMES

Especially common are colour nicknames, generally due to the

complexion, but sometimes to the garb. As we have already seen

(Chapter XV), Black and its variant Blake sometimes mean pale. Blagg

is the same word; cf. Jagg for Jack. White has no doubt been

reinforced by wight, valiant

"Oh for one hour of Wallace wight

Or well-skilled Bruce to rule the fight."

(Marmion, vi. 20.)

As an epithet applied to the hair we often find Hoar; cf. Horlock.

Redd is rare, the usual forms being the northern Reid, Reed, Read; but

we also have Rudd from Anglo-Sax. rud, whence ruddy and the name

Ruddock, really a bird nickname, the redbreast. To these must be

added Rudge, Fr. rouge, Rouse, Rush and Russ, Fr, roux, and Russell or

Rowsell, Old Fr. roussel (Rousseau). The commonest nickname for a

fair-haired person was Blunt, Blount, Fr. blond, with its dim.

Blundell, but the true English name is Fairfax, from Anglo-Sax. feax,

hair. The New English Dictionary quotes from the fifteenth century

"Then they lowsyd hur feyre faxe,

That was yelowe as the waxe."

The adjective dun was once a regular name, like Dobbin or Dapple, for

a cart-horse; hence the name of the old rural sport "Dun in the mire"--

"If thou art dun we'll draw thee from the mire." (Romeo and Juliet, i.

4.)

It is possible that the name Dunn is sometimes due to this specific

application of the word. The colour blue appears as Blew--

"At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blew:

To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new"

(Lycidas, 1. 192)--

and earlier still as Blow--

"Blak, blo, grenysh, swartysh, reed."

(House of Fame, iii. 557.)

Other colour names of French origin are Morel, swarthy, like a Moor,

also found as Murrell [Footnote: This, like Merrill, is sometimes from

Muriel.]; and Burnell, Burnett, dims. of brun, brown. Chaucer speaks

of--

"Daun Burnet the asse" (B, 4502);

[Footnote: Lat. dominus; the masculine form of dame in Old French.]

"Daun Russel the fox" (B, 4524.)

But both Burnell and Burnett may also be local from places ending in

-hill and -head (), and Burnett is sometimes for Burnard. The same

applies to Burrell, usually taken to be from Mid. Eng. borel, a rough

material, Old Fr. burel (bureau), also used metaphorically in the

sense of plain, uneducated

"And moore we seen of Cristes secree thynges

Than burel folk, al though they weren kynges."

(D, 1871.)

The name can equally well be the local Burhill or Burwell.

Murray is too common to be referred entirely to the Scottish name and

is sometimes for murrey, dark red (Fr. mûre, mulberry). It may also

represent merry, in its variant form murie, which is Mid. English, and

not, as might appear, Amurrican--

"His murie men comanded he

To make hym bothe game and glee."

(B, 2029.)

Pook, of uncertain origin, is supposed to have been a dark russet

colour. Bayard, a derivative of bay, was the name of several famous

war-horses. Cf. Blank and Blanchard. The name Soar is from the Old

French adjective sor, bright yellow. It is of Germanic origin and

cognate with sere.

The dim. Sorrel may be a colour name, but it was applied in venery to

a buck in the third year, of course in reference to colour; and some

of our names, e.g. Brocket and Prickett, [Footnote: Both words are

connected with the spiky young horns, Fr. broche, spit, being applied

in venery to the pointed horns of the second year.] both applied to a

two-year-old stag, must sometimes be referred to this important

department of medieval language. Holofernes uses some of these terms

in his idiotic verses

"The preyful princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing priket;

Some say a sore; but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting.

The dogs did yell; put l to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket."

(Love's Labour's Lost, iv. 2.)

A few adjective nicknames of Celtic origin are so common in England

that they may be included here. Such are the Welsh Gough, Goff,

Gooch, Gutch, red, Gwynn and Wynne, white, Lloyd, grey, Sayce, Saxon,

foreigner, Vaughan, small, and the Gaelic Bain, Bean, white, Boyd,

Bowie, yellow-haired, Dow, Duff, black, Finn, fair, Glass, grey, Roy,

Roe, red. From Cornish come Coad, old, and Couch, [Footnote: Cognate

with Welsh Gough.] red, while Bean is the Cornish for small, and

Tyacke means a farmer. It is likely that both Begg and Moore owe

something to the Gaelic adjectives for little and big, as in the

well-known names of Callum Beg, Edward Waverley's gillie, and McCallum

More. The Gaelic Begg is cognate with the Welsh Vaughan. Two other

famous Highland nicknames which are very familiar in England are

Cameron, crooked nose, and Campbell, wry mouth. With these may be

mentioned the Irish Kennedy, ugly head, the name of the father of

Brian Boru.

CHAPTER XXIII. BIRDS, BEASTS, AND FISHES

"As I think I have already said, one of Umslopogaas'

Zulu names was The Woodpecker."

(HAGGARD, Allan Quatermain, ch. vii.)

The great majority of nicknames coming under the headings typified by

Bird and Fowell, Best, and Fish or Fisk (Scand.) are easily

identified. But here, as everywhere in the subject, pitfalls abound.

The name Best itself is an example of a now misleading spelling

retained for obvious reasons--

"First, on the wal was peynted a forest,

In which ther dwelleth neither man nor best."

(A, 1976.)

We do not find exotic animals, nor even the beasts of heraldry, at all

frequently. Leppard, leopard, is in some cases for the Ger. Liebhart;

and Griffin, when not Welsh, should no doubt be included among

inn-signs. Oliphant, i.e. elephant--

"For maystow surmounten thise olifauntes in gretnesse or weighte of

body" (Boece, 782)--

may be a genuine nickname, but Roland's ivory horn was also called by

this name, and the surname may go back to some legendary connection of

the same kind. Bear is not uncommon, captive bears being familiar to

a period in which the title bear-ward is frequently met with.

It is possible that Drake may sometimes represent Anglo-Sax. draca,

dragon, rather than the bird, but the latter is unmistakable in

Sheldrick, for sheldrake. As a rule, animal nicknames were taken

rather from the domestic species with which the peasantry were

familiar and whose habits would readily suggest comparisons, generally

disparaging, with those of their neighbours.

BIRDS

Bird names are especially common, and it does not need much

imagination to see how readily and naturally a man might be nicknamed

Hawke for his fierceness, Crowe from a gloomy aspect, or Nightingale

for the gift of sweet song. Many of these surnames go back to words

which are now either obsolete or found only in dialect. The peacock

was once the Poe, an early loan from Lat. pavo, or, more fully, Pocock

"A sheaf of pocok arwes, bright and kene,

Under his belt he bar ful thriftily."

(A, 104.)

The name Pay is another form of the same word. Coe, whence Hedgecoe,

is an old name for the jackdaw--

"Cadow, or coo, or chogh (chough), monedula" (Prompt. Parv.)--

but may also stand for cow, as we find, in defiance of gender and sex,

such entries as Robert le cow, William le vache. Those birds which

have now assumed a font-name, such as Jack daw, Mag pie, of course

occur without it as surnames, e.g. Daw and Pye--

"The thief the chough, and eek the jangelyng pye" (Parliament of

Fowls, 305).

The latter has a dim. Pyatt.

Rainbird is a local name for the green woodpecker, but as an

East-Anglian name it is most likely an imitative form of Fr. Rimbaud

or Raimbaud, identical with Anglo-Sax. Regenbeald. Knott is the name

of a bird which frequents the sea-shore and, mindful of Cnut's wisdom,

retreats nimbly before the advancing surf--

"The knot that called was Canutus' bird of old."

(Drayton, Polyolbion, xxv. 368.)

This historical connection is most probably due to folk-etymology.

Titmus is of course for tit-mouse. Dialect names for the woodpecker

survive in Speight, Speke, and Spick, Pick (Chapter III). The same

bird was also called woodwall--

"In many places were nyghtyngales,

Alpes, fynches, and wodewales"

(Romaunt of the Rose, 567)--

hence, in some cases, the name Woodall. The Alpe, or bullfinch,

mentioned in the above lines, also survives as a surname. Dunnock and

Pinnock are dialect names for the sparrow. It was called in

Anglo-Norman muisson, whence Musson. Starling is a dim. of Mid. Eng.

stare, which has itself given the surname Starr

"The stare, that the counseyl can be-wrye." (Parliament of Fowls,

348.)

Heron is the French form of the bird-name which was in English Herne--

"I come from haunts of coot and hern." (Tennyson, The Brook, 1. 1.)

The Old French dim. heronceau also passed into English--

"I wol nat tellen of hir strange sewes (courses),

Ne of hir swannes, ne of hire heronsewes."

(F, 67.)

As a surname it has been assimilated to the local, and partly

identical, Hearnshaw (Chapter XII). Some commentators go to this word

to explain Hamlet's use of handsaw--

"I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly,

I know a hawk from a handsaw" (Hamlet, ii. 2).

When the author's father was a boy in Suffolk eighty years ago, the

local name for the bird was pronounced exactly like answer. Grew is

Fr. grue, crane, Lat. grus, gru-. Butter, Fr. butor, "a bittor"

(Cotgrave), is a dialect name for the bittern, called a "butter-bump"

by Tennyson's Northern Farmer (1. 31). Culver is Anglo-Sax. culfre,

a pigeon--

"Columba, a culver, a dove"

(Cooper)--

hence the local Culverhouse. Dove often becomes Duff. Gaunt is

sometimes a dialect form of gannet, used in Lincolnshire of the

crested grebe. Popjoy may have been applied to the successful archer

who became king of the popinjay for the year. The derivation of the

word, Old Fr. papegai, whence Mid. Eng. papejay--

"The briddes synge, it is no nay,

The sparhawk and the papejay,

That joye it was to heere"

(B, 1956)--

is obscure, though various forms of it are found in most of the

European languages. In English it was applied not only to the parrot,

but also to the green woodpecker. The London Directory form is

Pobgee.

With bird nicknames may be mentioned Callow, unfledged, cognate with

Lat. calvus, bald. Its opposite also survives as Fleck and Flick--

"Flygge, as byrdis, maturus, volabilis."

(Prompt. Parv.)

Margaret Paston, writing (1460) of the revived hopes of Henry VI.,

says--

"Now he and alle his olde felawship put owt their fynnes, and arn

ryght flygge and mery."

HAWK NAMES

We have naturally a set of names taken from the various species of

falcons. To this class belongs Haggard, probably related to

Anglo-Sax. haga, hedge, and used of a hawk which had acquired

incurable habits of wildness by preying for itself. But Haggard is

also a personal name (Chapter VIII). Spark, earlier Sparhawk, is the

sparrow-hawk. It is found already in Anglo-Saxon as a personal name,

and the full Sparrowhawk also exists. Tassell is a corruption of

tiercel, a name given to the male peregrine, so termed, according to

the legendary lore of venery--

"Because he is, commonly, a third part lesse than the female."

(Cotgrave, )

Juliet calls Romeo her "tassell gentle" (ii. 2). Muskett was a name

given to the male sparrow-hawk.

"Musket, a lytell hauke, mouchet." (Palsgrave.)

Mushet is the same name. It comes from Ital. moschetto, a little fly.

For its later application to a firearm cf. falconet. Other names of

the hawk class are Buzzard and Puttock, i.e. kite--

"Milan, a kite, puttock, glead"

(Cotgrave);

and to the same bird we owe the name Gleed, from a Scandinavian name

for the bird

"And the glede, and the kite, and the vulture after his kind." (Deut.

xiv. 13.)

To this class also belongs Ramage--

"Ramage, of, or belonging to, branches; also, ramage, hagard, wild,

homely, rude"

(Cotgrave)--

and sometimes Lennard, an imitative form of "lanner," the name of an

inferior hawk--

"Falcunculus, a leonard."

(Holyoak, Lat. Dict., 1612.)

Povey is a dialect name for the owl, a bird otherwise absent from the

surname list.

BEASTS

Among beast nicknames we find special attention given, as in modern

vituperation, to the swine, although we do not find this true English

word, unless it be occasionally disguised as Swain. Hogg does not

belong exclusively to this class, as it is used in dialect both of a

young sheep and a yearling colt. Anglo-Sax. sugu, sow, survives in

Sugg. Purcell is Old Fr. pourcel (pourceau), dim. of Lat. porcus, and

I take Pockett to be a disguised form of the obsolete porket--

"Porculus, a pygg: a shoote: a porkes."

(Cooper.)

The word shoote in the above gloss is now the dialect shot, a young

pig, which may have given the surname Shott. But Scutt is from a Mid.

English adjective meaning short--

"Scute, or shorte, curtus, brevis"

(Prompt. Parv.)--

and is also an old name for the hare. Two other names for the pig are

the northern Galt and the Lincolnshire Grice--

"Marcassin, a young wild boare; a shoot or grice." (Cotgrave.)

Grice also represents le gris, the grey; cf. Grace for le gras

(Chapter XXII). Bacon looks like a nickname, but is invariably found

without the article. As it is common in French, it would appear to be

an Old French accusative to Back, going back to Germanic Bacco

(Chapter XIII). Hinks is Mid. Eng. hengst, a stallion, and is thus

identical with Hengist (Chapter XX). Stott means both a bullock and a

nag (Chapter XIX).

Everyone remembers Wamba's sage disquisition on the names of animals

in the first chapter of Ivanhoe. Like much of Scott's archaeology it

is somewhat anachronistic, for the live animals were also called veals

and muttons for centuries after Wamba's death

"Mouton, a mutton, a weather"; "veau, a calfe, or veale." (Cotgrave.)

Calf has become very rare as a surname, though Kalb is still common in

Germany. Bardsley regards Duncalf and Metcalf as perverted from

dun-croft and meadow-croft. It seems possible that they may be for

down-calf and mead-calf, from the locality of the pasture, but this is

a pure guess on my part. It is curious that beef does not appear to

have survived, though Leboeuf is common in French, and bullocks are

still called "beeves" in Scotland. Tegg is still used by butchers for

a two-year-old sheep. Palsgrave gives it another meaning--

"Tegg, or pricket (Chapter XXII), saillant."

Roe is also found in the older forms Rae and Ray, of course confused

with Wray (Chapter XIII), as Roe itself is with Rowe (Chapter I). Doe

often becomes Dowe. Hind is usually occupative (Chapter III), but Fr.

Labiche suggests that it must sometimes be a nickname--

"Biche, a hind; the female of a stagge." (Cotgrave.)

Pollard was applied to a beast or stag that had lost its horns--

"He has no horns, sir, has he?

"No, sir, he's a pollard."

(Beaumont and Fletcher, Philaster, v. 4.)

Leverett is certified by the French surname Levrault. Derivation from

Lever, Anglo-Sax. Leofhere, whence Levers, Leverson, or Leveson, is

much less probable, as these Anglo-Saxon names rarely form dims.

(Chapter VII). Luttrel is in French Loutrel, perhaps a dim. of

loutre, otter, Lat. lutra. From the medieval lutrer or lutrarius,

otter hunter, we get Lutterer, no doubt confused with the musical

Luter.

While Catt is fairly common in the eastern counties, Robertus le chien

and Willelmus le curre, who were living about the end of the twelfth

century, are now completely disguised as Ken and Kerr. Modern French

has both Lechien and the Norman Lequien. [Footnote: Lekain, the name

of a famous French actor, has the same origin.] We owe a few other

surnames to the friend of man. Kennett, from a Norman dim. of chien,

meant greyhound--

"Kenette, hounde, leporarius." (Prompt. Parv.)

The origin of the name Talbot is unknown, and it is uncertain whether

the hound or the family should have precedence; but Chaucer seems to

use it as the proper name of a hound

"Ran Colle our dogge, and Talbot, and Gerland,

And Malkyn, with a dystaf in hir hand."

(B, 4573.)

The great Earl of Shrewsbury is affectionately called "Talbot, our

good dogge" in political rimes of the fifteenth century.

In early dictionaries may be found long lists of the fanciful names,

such as Bright, Lightfoot, Ranger, Ringwood, Swift, Tempest, given to

hounds. This practice seems to throw some light on such surnames as

Tempest, with which we may compare the German names Storm and Sturm.

In the Pipe Rolls the name le esturmi, the stormy, occurs several

times. To the same class belongs Thunder, found in the Pipe Rolls as

Tonitruus, and not therefore necessarily a perversion of Tunder, i.e.

Sherman (Chapter XVIII)--

"Tondeur de draps, a shearman, or clothworker." (Cotgrave.)

Garland, used by Chaucer as a dog's name, was earlier graland, and, as

le garlaund is also found, it may be referred to Old Fr. grailler, to

trumpet. It no doubt has other origins.

We should expect Fox to be strongly represented, and we find the

compounds Colfox and Stelfox. The first means black fox--

"A colfox ful of sly iniquitee"

(B, 4405)--

and I conjecture that the first part of Stelfox is connected with

stealing, as in the medieval name Stele-cat--

"The two constables made a thorough search and found John Stelfox

hiding behind some bushes. Some of the jewellery was found upon him"

(Daily Chronicle, June 3, 1913).

In the north a fox is called Tod, whence Todhunter. This Tod is

probably a personal name, like the French Renard and the Scottish

Lawrie or Lowrie, applied to the same animal. Allan Ramsay calls him

"slee Tod Lowrie." From the badger we have Brock and sometimes Gray--

Blaireau, a badger, gray, boason, brock (Cotgrave)--

but Badger itself is occupative (Chapter XIX). The polecat survives

as Fitch, Fitchett, and Fitchew--

"Fissau, a filch, or fulmart."

(Cotgrave.)

FISHES

On fish-names Bardsley remarks, "We may quote the famous chapter on

'Snakes in Iceland': 'There are no snakes in Iceland,' and say there

are no fish-names in England." This is almost true. The absence of

marked traits of character in the, usually invisible, fish would

militate against the adoption of such names. We should not expect to

find the shark to be represented, for the word is of too late

occurrence. But Whale is fairly common. Whale the mariner received

two pounds from Henry VII's privy purse in 1498. The story of Jonah,

or very generous proportions, may have originated the name Whalebelly,

"borne by a respectable family in south-east England" (Bardsley).

But there would obviously be no great temptation to go fishing for

nicknames when the beasts of the farmyard and the forest, the birds of

the marshes and the air, offered on every side easily understood

comparisons. At the same time Bardsley's statement goes a little too

far. He explains Gudgeon as a corruption of Goodison. But this, true

though it may be in some cases, will not explain the very common

French surname Goujon. The phrase "greedy gudgeon" suggests that in

this case a certain amount of character had been noticed in the fish.

Sturgeon also seems to be a genuine fish-name. We find Fr. Lesturgeon

and Ger. Stoer, both meaning the same. We have also Smelt and the

synonymous Spurling. In French and German we find other surnames

which undoubtedly belong to this class, but they are not numerous and

probably at first occurred only in regions where fishing or

fish-curing were important industries.

A few examples will show that apparent fish-names are usually not

genuine. Chubb is for Job (Chapter III), Eeles is one of the numerous

derivatives of Elias (Chapter IX), Hake is, like Hack, from the

Scandinavian Hacun, Haddock is sometimes a perversion of the local

Haydock, Lamprey comes via Old French from Old High Ger. Landprecht,

which has usually given Lambert.

Pike is local (Chapter XII), Pilchard is for Pilcher (Chapter XVIII),

Roach is Fr. Laroche, Salmon is for Salomon, and Turbot is the

Anglo-Sax. Thurbeorht, which has also given Tarbut, as Thurgod has

given Targett. But in few of the above examples is the possibility of

fish origin absolutely excluded.

SPECIAL FEATURES

We have also many surnames due to physical resemblances not extending

beyond one feature. Birdseye may be sometimes of local origin, from

ey, island (Chapter XII), but as a genuine nickname it is as natural

as the sobriquet of Hawkeye which Natty Bumppo received from the

Hurons. German has the much less pleasing Gansauge, goose-eye; and

Alan Oil de larrun, thief's eye, was fined for very reprehensible

conduct in 1183. To explain Crowfoot as an imitative variant of

Crawford is absurd when we find a dozen German surnames of the same

class and formation and as many in Old or Modern French beginning with

pied de. Cf. Pettigrew (Chapter XXI) and Sheepshanks. We find in the

Paris Directory not only Piedeleu (Old Fr. leu, wolf) and Piedoie

(oie, goose), but even the full Pied-de-Lièvre, Professeur à la

Faculté de droit. The name Bulleid was spelt in the sixteenth century

bul-hed, i.e. bull-head, a literal rendering of Front de Boeuf.

Weatherhead (Chapter XIX) is perhaps usually a nickname

"For that old weather-headed fool, I know how to laugh at him."

(Congreve, Love for Love, ii. 7.)

Coxhead is another obvious nickname. A careful analysis of some of

the most important medieval name-lists would furnish hundreds of

further examples, some too outspoken to have survived into our

degenerate age, and others which are now so corrupted that their

original vigour is quite lost.

Puns and jokes upon proper names are, pace Gregory the Great and

Shakespeare, usually very inept and stupid; but the following lines by

James Smith, which may be new to some of my readers, are really

clever--

Men once were surnamed from their shape or estate

(You all may from History worm it);

There was Lewis the Bulky, and Henry the Great,

John Lackland, and Peter the Hermit.

But now, when the door-plates of Misters and Dames

Are read, each so constantly varies

From the owner's trade, figure, and calling, Surnames

Seem given by the rule of contraries.

Mr. Box, though provoked, never doubles his fist,

Mr. Burns, in his grate, has no fuel;

Mr. Playfair won't catch me at hazard or whist,

Mr. Coward was wing'd in a duel.

Mr. Wise is a dunce, Mr. King is a whig,

Mr. Coffin's uncommonly sprightly,

And huge Mr. Little broke down in a gig,

While driving fat Mrs. Golightly.

Mrs. Drinkwater's apt to indulge in a dram,

Mrs. Angel's an absolute fury,

And meek Mr. Lyon let fierce Mr. Lamb

Tweak his nose in the lobby of Drury.

At Bath, where the feeble go more than the stout,

(A conduct well worthy of Nero),

Over poor Mr. Lightfoot, confined with the gout,

Mr. Heaviside danced a Bolero.

Miss Joy, wretched maid, when she chose Mr. Love,

Found nothing but sorrow await her;

She now holds in wedlock, as true as a dove,

That fondest of mates, Mr. Hayter.

Mr. Oldcastle dwells in a modern-built hut,

Miss Sage is of madcaps the archest;

Of all the queer bachelors Cupid e'er cut,

Old Mr. Younghusband's the starchest.

Mr. Child, in a passion, knock'd down Mr. Rock,

Mr. Stone like an aspen-leaf shivers;

Miss Poole used to dance, but she stands like a stock

Ever since she became Mrs. Rivers;

Mr. Swift hobbles onward, no mortal knows how,

He moves as though cords had entwin'd him;

Mr. Metcalfe ran off, upon meeting a cow,

With pale Mr. Turnbull behind him.

Mr. Barker's as mute as a fish in the sea,

Mr. Miles never moves on a journey;

Mr. Gotobed sits up till half-after three,

Mr. Makepeace was bred an attorney.

Mr. Gardiner can't tell a flower from a root,

Mr. Wilde with timidity draws back,

Mr. Ryder performs all his journeys on foot,

Mr. Foote all his journeys on horseback.

Mr. Penny, whose father was rolling in wealth,

Kick'd down all his fortune his dad won;

Large Mr. Le Fever's the picture of health,

Mr. Goodenough is but a bad one.

Mr. Cruickshank stept into three thousand a year,

By showing his leg to an heiress:--

Now I hope you'll acknowledge I've made it quite clear

That surnames ever go by contraries.

Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury, England.

* * * * *

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By Basil Lubbock With Illustrations.

LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES.

Being some Account of a Voyage in 1856, in the Sohooner Yacht Foam, to

Iceland, Jan Meyen, and Spitzbergen. By the late Marquess Of

Dufferin. With Portrait and Illustrations.

FIELD PATHS and GREEN LANES in SURREY AND SUSSEX.

By Louis J. Jennings. Illustrated.

THE LION HUNTER OF SOUTH AFRICA.

Five Years' Adventure in the Far Interior of South Africa. With

Notices of the Native Tribes and Savages. By R. Gordon Cumming. With

16 Woodcuts.

DOG BREAKING.

The most Expeditious, Certain, and Easy Method. With Odds and Ends

for those who love the Dog and Gun.

By General W. N. Hutchinson. With numerous Illustrations.

THE ROB ROY ON THE JORDAN.

A Canoe Cruise in Palestine, Egypt, and the Waters of Damascus.

By John Macgregor, M.A., Captain of the Royal Canoe Club. With Maps

and Illustrations.

A HISTORY OF THE SIEGE OF GIBRALTAR, 1779-1783.

With a Description and Account of that Garrison from the Earliest

Times.

By John Drinkwater, Captain in the Seventy-second Regiment of Royal

Manchester Volunteers. With Plans.

The Life Of John Nicholson, Soldier and Administrator.

By Captain Lionel J. Trotter. With Portrait and 3 Maps.

A SMALLER DICTIONARY OF THE BIBLE.

By Sir William Smith. With Maps and Illustrations.

A POPULAR HISTORY OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.

From the Earliest Times to the Present Day.

By William Boyd Carpenter, Bishop of Ripon, Hon. D.C.L., Oxon.

With 26 Illustrations.

* * * * *

Transcriber's notes:

* Although I worked from material in good condition, scanning and

preparing subject matter of this type is much harder work than

preparing a novel or the like, so obviously I should never have

bothered with preparing this book if I had not though it to be

worthwhile. In fact I consider it to be very rewarding, informative,

and entertaining. I hope you also find it rewarding, and I present it

in much the same mood that I assume it was written in: not that it is

fully correct or definitive, but that both the material and the lines

of thought that the book comprises, are useful, thoughtful, and

enjoyable, taken for what they are worth. The book certainly is based

on a formidable level of erudition, however cheerful the author's

style may be.

* For the most part I have tried to remain true to the source, but

this is not an attempt to reproduce the volume I scanned; my objective

was to render its content available. Accordingly, I did not hesitate

to correct minor, obvious errors, or to adopt my preferences for

spacing and the like. Also, the means that I employed in preparing

this material did not lend themselves satisfactorily to preservation

of the original pagination or of numbering and cross reference of pages.

However, as the product is machine readable, search is easier than

working from an index, and I tried to support the use of such

facilities. Anyone who feels strongly that an index remains necessary,

is welcome to add an index to the version that I have presented here,

without crediting me for the body of the work.

* I have however, substituted cross-reference between sections or

chapters for the (now meaningless) cross-references between pages.

Also, like many books of that day, the original had many page headings

such as "MYTHICAL ETYMOLOGIES" or "HILL AND DALE", without

incorporating them in the table of contents or the text, or even

making it clear just where those page headings fitted into the text.

I have changed such page headings to sub-headings within the text,

where they are more useful, given that they no longer are necessary

for the original purpose of aiding the process of flipping through the

pages of a paper book.

* I have relocated footnotes from the feet of the pages to just after

the text that they qualified. Apart from thereby rendering the text

less dependent of changes of format, this arguably renders the

footnotes more useful and less disruptive to the reader. Footnotes

are marked as such, so as to avoid confusion.

* I have of course tried to produce as clean a product as possible,

but I apologetically assure you that some errors remain in the text.

You accordingly must treat the content with appropriate caution.