Chapter VI ‘Nicknames’
If we may trust the accredited origin of the term nickname—viz., that it is prosthetically put for ‘an ekename,’ that is, an added name—it may seem somewhat inconsistent to entitle a special branch of my book by that which in reality embraces the whole. But I do not think I shall be misunderstood, since, whatever be the original meaning intended, the word has now so thoroughly settled down into its present sphere of verbal usefulness that it would be a matter of still more lengthened explanation if I were to put it in its more pretentious and literal sense. By ‘nickname,’ in this chapter, at any rate, I intend to take in all those fortuitous and accidental sobriquets which, once expressive of peculiar and individual characteristics, have survived the age in which they sprang, and now preserved only in the lumber-room of our directories, may be brought forth once more wherever they help to throw a brighter light upon the decayed memorials of a bygone era. It will be seen at a glance that it is no easy task that of assorting a large body of nondescript and unclassed terms, but I will do my best under pleaded indulgence.
We are not without traces of this special kind of sobriquets even in the early days before the Norman Conquest was dreamt or thought of. I have already instanced the Venerable Bede as speaking of two missionaries who, both bearing the name of Hewald, were distinguished by the surnames of ‘White’ and ‘Black,’ on account of their hair partaking of those respective hues. In the ninth century, too, Ethelred, Earl of the Gaini, was styled the ‘Mucel’ or ‘Mickle’—‘eo quod erat corpore magnus et prudentiâ grandis.’ With the incoming of the Normans, however, came a great change. The burlesque was part of their nature. A vein for the ludicrous was speedily acquired. It spread in every rank and grade of society. The Saxon himself was touched with the contagion, ere yet the southern blood was infused into his veins. Equally among the high and the low did such sobriquets as ‘le Bastard,’ ‘le Rouse,’ ‘le Beauclerk,’ ‘le Grisegonel’ (Greycloke), ‘Plantagenet,’ ‘Sansterre,’ and ‘Cœur de lion’ find favour. But it did not stay here; the more ridiculous and absurd characteristics became the butt of attack. In a day when buffoonery had become a profession, when every roughly-sketched drawing was a caricature, every story a record of licentious adventure, it could not be otherwise. The only wonderment is the tame acquiescence on the part of the stigmatized bearer. To us now-a-days, to be termed amongst our fellows ‘Richard the Crookbacked,’ ‘William Blackinthemouth,’ ‘Thomas the Pennyfather’ (that is, the Miser), or ‘Thomas Wrangeservice’ (the opposite of Walter Scott’s ‘Andrew Fairservice’), would be looked upon as mere wanton insult. But it was then far different. The times, as I have said, were rougher and coarser, and the delicacy of feeling which would have shrunk from so addressing those with whom we had to deal, or from making them the object of our banter, would have been perfectly misunderstood. Apart from this, too, the bearer, after all, had little to do with the question. He did not give himself the nickname he received it; pleasant or unpleasant, as he had no voice in the acquisition, so had he none in its retention. There was nothing for it but good-tempered acquiescence. We know to this very day how difficult was the task of getting rid of our school nicknames, how they clung to us from the unhappy hour in which some sharp-witted, quick, discerning youngster found out our weak part, and dubbed us by a sobriquet, which, while it perhaps exaggerated the characteristic to which it had reference, had the effect which a hundred admonitions from paternal or magisterial head-quarters had not, to make us see our folly and mend our ways. None the less, however, did the affix remain, and this was our punishment. How often, when in after years we come accidentally across some quondam schoolfellow, each staring strangely at the other’s grizzly beard or beetled brow, the old sobriquet will crop up to the lips, and in the very naturalness with which the expression is uttered all the separation of years of thought and feeling is forgotten, and we are instantly back to the old days and the old haunts, and pell-mell in the thick of old boyish scrapes again. Yet perchance these names were offensive. But they have wholly lost their force. We had ceased to feel hurt by them long before we parted in early days. See how this, too, is illustrated in the present day in the names of certain sects and parties. We talk calmly of ‘Capuchins,’ ‘Quakers,’ ‘Ranters,’ ‘Whigs’ and ‘Tories,’ and yet some of these taken literally are offensive enough, especially the political ones. But, as we know, all that attached to them of odium has long ago become clouded, obscured, and forgotten, and now they are the accepted, nay, proudly owned, titles of the party they represent. Were it not for this we might be puzzled to conceive why in these early times such a name as ‘le Bonde,’ significant of nothing but personal servitude and galling oppression, was allowed to remain. That ‘le Free’ and ‘le Freman’ and ‘le Franch-homme’ should survive the ravages of time is natural enough. But with ‘Bond’ it is different. It bespoke slavery. Yet it is one of our most familiar names of to-day. How is this? The explanation is easy. The term was used to denote personality, not position; the notion of condition was lost in that of identity. It was just the same with sobriquets of a more humorous and broad character, with nicknames in fact. The roughest humour of those rough days is oftentimes found in these early records, and the surnames which, putting complimentary and objectionable and neutral together, belong to this day to this class, form still well-nigh the largest proportion of our national nomenclature. There is something indescribably odd, when we reflect about it, that the turn of a toe, the twist of a leg, the length of a limb, the colour of a lock of hair, a conceited look, a spiteful glance, a miserly habit of some in other respects unknown and long-forgotten ancestor, should still five or six centuries afterwards be unblushingly proclaimed to the world by the immediate descendants therefrom. And yet so it is with our ‘Cruickshanks’ or ‘Whiteheads’ or ‘Meeks’ or ‘Proudmans;’ thus it is with our ‘Longmans’ and ‘Shortmans,’ our ‘Biggs’ and ‘Littles,’ and the endless others we shall speedily mention. Still these represent a better class of surnames. As time wore on, and the nation became more refined, there was an attempt made, successful in many instances, to throw off the more objectionable of these names. Some were so utterly gross and ribald as even in that day to sink into almost instant oblivion. Some, I doubt not, never became hereditary at all.
In glancing briefly over a portion of these names we must endeavour to affect some order. We might divide them into two classes merely, physical and moral or mental peculiarities; but this would scarcely suffice for distinction, as each would still be so large as to make us feel ourselves to be in a labyrinth that had no outlet. Nor would these two classes be sufficiently comprehensive? There would still be left a large mass of sobriquets which could scarcely be placed with fitness in either category: nicknames from Nature, nicknames from oaths, or street-cries, or mottoes, or nicknames again in the shape of descriptive compounds. Names from the animal kingdom, of course, could be set under either a moral or physical head, as, in all cases, saving when they have arisen from inn-signs or ensigns, they would be affixed on the owner for some supposed affinity he bore in mind or body to the creature in question. Still it will be easier to place them, as well as some others, under a third and more miscellaneous category. These three divisions I would again subdivide in the following fashion:—
I.—Physical and External Peculiarities.
(1) Nicknames from peculiarities of relationship, condition, age, size, shape, and capacity.
(2) Nicknames from peculiarities of complexion.
(3) Nicknames from peculiarities of dress and its accoutrements.
II.—Mental and Moral Peculiarities.
(1) Nicknames from peculiarities of disposition—complimentary.
(2) Nicknames from peculiarities of disposition—objectionable.
III.—Miscellaneous.
(1) Nicknames from the animal and vegetable kingdom.
(2) Descriptive compounds affixed as nicknames.438
(3) Nicknames from oaths, street-cries, and mottoes.
I — Physical and External Peculiarities
(1) Nicknames From Peculiarities of Relationship, Age, Size, and Capacity
(a) Relationship.—There is scarcely any position in which one man can stand to another which is not found recorded pure and simple in the surnames of to-day. The manner in which these arose was natural enough. We still talk of ‘John Smith, Senior,’ and ‘John Smith, Junior,’ when we require a distinction to be made between two of the same name. So it was then, only the practice was carried further. I find, for instance, in one simple record, the following insertions:—‘John Darcy le fiz,’ ‘John Darcy le frere,’ ‘John Darcy le unkle,’ ‘John Darcy le cosyn,’ ‘John Darcy le nevue,’ and ‘John Darcy, junior.’ How easy would it be for those in whose immediate community these different representatives of the one same name lived to style each by his term of relationship, and for this, once familiarised, to become his surname. ‘Uncle,’439 once found as ‘Robert le Unkle,’ or ‘John le Uncle,’ is now quite obsolete, I think; but the pretty old Saxon ‘Eame’ abides hale and hearty in our numberless ‘Eames,’ ‘Ames,’ ‘Emes,’ and ‘Yeames.’ We find it used in the ‘Townley Mysteries.’ In one of them Rebecca tells Jacob he must flee for fear of Esau—
Jacob. Wheder-ward shuld I go, dame?
Rebecca. To Mesopotameam
To my brother and thyne eme,
That dwellys beside Jordan streme.
The ‘Promp. Par.’ defines a cozen to be an ‘emys son,’ and it is from him, no doubt, our many ‘Cousens,’ ‘Cousins,’ ‘Couzens,’ and ‘Cozens’ have sprung, descended as they are from ‘Richard le Cusyn’ (A.), or ‘John le Cosyn’ (G.), or ‘Thomas le Cozun’ (E.). ‘Kinsman’ (‘John Kynnesman,’ Z.Z.) may be of the same degree. ‘Widowson’ (‘William le Wedweson,’ R., ‘Simon fil. Vidue,’ A.440) is apparently the same as the once existing ‘Faderless’ (‘John Faderless,’ M.),441 while ‘Brotherson’ and ‘Sisterson’ (‘Jacob Systerson,’ W. 3) seem to be but old-fashioned phrases for a nephew, in which case they are but synonymous with the Norman ‘Nephew,’ ‘Neve,’ ‘Neave,’ or ‘Neaves;’ all these forms being familiar to our directories, and descendants of ‘Reyner le Neve’ (A.), or ‘Richard le Nevu’ (E.), or ‘Robert le Neave’ (Z.). Capgrave, giving the descent of Eber, says: ‘In this yere (anno 2509) Sala begat Heber; and of this Eber, as auctouris say, came the people Hebrak, for Heber was neve unto Sem.’ Thus again, the Saxon ‘Arnold le Fader’ was met by the Norman ‘John Parent,’ and the still more foreign ‘Ralph le Padre,’ while ‘William le Brother’ found his counterpart in ‘Geoffrey le Freer,’ or ‘Frere;’ but as in so many cases this latter must be a relic of the old freere or friar, we had better refer it, perhaps, to that more spiritual relationship.442
(b) Condition.—We have still traces in our midst of sobriquets relating to the poverty or wealth of the original bearer. Our ‘Poores,’ often found as ‘Powers,’ are descended from the ‘Roger le Poveres,’ or ‘Robert le Poors,’ of the thirteenth century, while our ‘Riches’ are set down at the same period as ‘Swanus le Riche’ or ‘Gervase le Riche.’ Of several kindred surnames we may mention a ‘John le Nedyman,’ now obsolete, and an ‘Elyas le Diveys,’ which, in the more Biblical form of Dives, still exists in the metropolis. It is somewhat remarkable that we should have the Jewish ‘Lazarus’ also, and that this too should have arisen in not a few instances from the fact that its first possessor was a leper. ‘Nicholas le Lepere’ and ‘Walter le Lepper’ speak for themselves. With the above we may ally our early ‘Robert le Ragiddes’ and ‘Thomas le Raggedes,’ which remind us that our vagabonds, if not our ‘Raggs’ and ‘Raggetts,’ are of no modern extraction, but come of a very old family indeed! ‘Half-naked,’ I unhesitatingly at first set down as one of this class, but it is local.443
(c) Age, Size, Shape, Capacity.—This class is very large, and embraces every possible, and well-nigh impossible feature of human life. A glance over our old records, and we can almost at once find ‘Lusty’ and ‘Strong,’ ‘Long’ and ‘Short,’ ‘Bigg’444 and ‘Little,’ ‘High’ and ‘Lowe’ (both perchance local), ‘Large’ and ‘Small,’ ‘Thick’ and ‘Thin,’ ‘Slight’ and ‘Round,’ ‘Lean’ and ‘Fatt,’ ‘Megre’ and ‘Stout,’445 ‘Ould’ and ‘Young,’ and ‘Light’ and ‘Heavy.’ Was this not sufficient? Were there several in the same community who could boast similarity in respect to one or other of these varieties? Then we got ‘Stronger,’ ‘Shorter,’ ‘Younger,’446 ‘Littler,’ ‘Least,’447 ‘Senior,’ ‘Junior,’ and in some cases ‘Elder.’ Some of these are of course Norman; but when Saxon occur we can all but invariably find the Norman equivalent. Thus, if ‘Large’ be Saxon, ‘Gros’ (now ‘Grose’ and ‘Gross’) is Norman; if ‘Bigge’ be Saxon, ‘Graunt’ or ‘Grant’ or ‘Grand’ is Norman;448 if ‘Small’ be Saxon, ‘Pettitt’ or ‘Pettye’ or ‘Petty’ or ‘Peat’ is Norman. Thus again, ‘Lowe’ meets face to face with ‘Bas’ or ‘Bass,’ ‘Short’ with ‘Curt,’ ‘Fatte’ with ‘Gras’ or ‘Grass’ or ‘Grace,’449 ‘Strong’ with ‘Fort,’ ‘Ould’ with ‘Viele,’ ‘Twist’ with ‘Tort,’ and ‘Young’ or ‘Yonge’ with ‘Jeune.’ Sometimes the termination ‘man’ is added, as in ‘Strongman,’ ‘Longman,’ ‘Smallman,’ ‘Oldman,’ and ‘Youngman,’ or if a woman, dame, as in such a case as ‘Matilda Lenedame,’ which as a surname died probably with its owner. Sometimes, again, we have the older and more antique form, as in ‘Smale’ and ‘Smaleman,’ that is, small; ‘Yonge’ and ‘Yongeman,’ that is, young; and ‘Lyte’ and ‘Lyteman,’ that is, little; ‘Wight’ and ‘Wightman,’ now obsolete in our general vocabulary, referred to personal strength and activity. In the ‘Vision of Piers Plowman,’ one of the sons of ‘Sire Inwit’ is described as being—
A wight man of strength.
‘Manikin,’ found at the same period, needs no explanation.450
Of the less general we have well-nigh numberless illustrations. It is only when we come to look at our nomenclature we find out how many separate limbs, joints, and muscles we individually possess, and by what a variety of terms they severally went in earlier days. No treatise of anatomy can be more precise in regard to this than our directories. Some prominence or other peculiarity about the head or face has given us our ‘Chins,’ ‘Chekes,’ or ‘Cheeks,’ and ‘Jowles,’ or ‘Joules.’ We are all familiar with the protruding fangs of our friend ‘Jowler’ of the canine community. Thus even here also we must place ‘cheek by jowl.’ ‘Glossycheek’ (‘Bertholomew Gloscheke,’ A.) once existed, but is obsolete now. The same is true in respect of ‘Duredent’ (‘Walter Duredent,’ E.), or ‘Dent-de-fer,’ i.e., ‘Irontoothed’ (‘Robert Dent-de-fer,’ E.), which spoke well no doubt for the masticatory powers of its owner. ‘Merrymouth’ (‘Richard Merymouth,’ X.) would be a standing testimony to its possessor’s good humour. It is decidedly more acceptable than ‘Dogmow’451 (‘Arnulph Dogmow,’ A.) or ‘Calvesmawe’ (‘Robert Calvesmaghe,’ M.), recorded at the same period. Sweetmouth’ (‘Robert Swetemouth,’ D.) also speaks for the sentiment of the times. In modern days, at least, the eye is supposed to be one of the chief points of personal identity. I only find one or two instances, however, where this feature has given the sobriquet in our mediæval rolls. In the ‘Calendarium Genealogicum’ a ‘Robertus Niger-oculus,’ or ‘Robert Blackeye,’ is set down as having been ‘pro felonia suspensus.’ We are reminded in his name of the ‘Blackeyed Susan’ of later days, but whether Nature had given him the said hue or some pugilistic encounter I cannot say. Judging by his antecedents, so far as the above Latin sentence betrays them, the latter would seem to be the more likely origin.452 ‘William le Blynd,’ or ‘Ralph le Blinde,’ speak for themselves.453 The ‘Saxon Head,’ in some cases local, doubtless, is still familiar to us. Its more Norman ‘Tait’ fitly sits at present upon the archiepiscopal throne of Canterbury. Grostete, one of which name was a distinguished bishop of Lincoln in the fourteenth century, is now represented by ‘Greathead’ and ‘Broadhead’ only. Butler, in his ‘Hudibras,’ records it in the more colloquial form of Grosted—
None a deeper knowledge boasted,
Since Hodge Bacon, and Bob Grosted.
The equally foreign ‘Belteste’ (‘John Beleteste,’ A.) is content, likewise, to allow ‘Fairhead’ (‘Richard Faireheved,’ H.) to transmit to posterity the claims of its early possessor to capital grace. ‘Blackhead’454 existed in the seventeenth, and ‘Hardhead’ in the fifteenth century. These are all preferable, however, to ‘Lambshead’ (‘Agnes Lambesheved,’ A.), found some generations earlier, and still firmly settled in our midst, as the ‘London Directory’ can vouch.455 So much for the head. ‘Neck’ and ‘Swire’ are both synonymous. Chaucer describes Envy as ready to ‘scratch her face,’ or ‘rend her clothes,’ or ‘tear her swire,’456 in respect of which latter feat we should now more generally say ‘tear her hair.’ Either operation, however, would be unpleasant enough, and it is just as well that for all practical purposes it only occurs in poetry. Some characteristic of strength, or beauty, or deformity (let us assume one of the former) has given us our ‘Hands,’ ‘Armes,’ and ‘Brass’s,’ from the old ‘Braz.’ ‘Finger,’ once existing (‘Matilda Finger,’ H.), is now obsolete. Whether this sobriquet was given on the same grounds as that bestowed on the redoubtable ‘Tom Thumb,’ I cannot say. ‘Brazdifer’ (‘Simon Braz-de-fer,’ E., ‘Michael Bras-de-fer,’ B.B.), arm of iron, once a renowned nom-de-plume, still dwells, though obsolete in itself, in our ‘Strongithams’ and ‘Armstrongs.’457 A common form of this North-country name was ‘Armstrang’ or ‘Armestrang’ (‘Adam le Armstrang,’ G.), reminding us that our ‘Strangs’ are but the fellows of our more southern ‘Strongs’ (‘John le Strang,’ E., ‘Joscelin le Strong,’ H.). ‘Lang’458 and ‘Long’ represent a similar difference of pronunciation. The ‘Armstrongs’ were a great Border clan. Mr. Lower reminds me of the following lines:—
Ye need not go to Liddisdale,
For when they see the blazing bale
Elliots and Armstrongs never fail.
(Lay of the Last Minstrel.)
Another and more foreign form of this sobriquet, ‘Ferbas’ (‘Robert Ferbras,’ M.), has come down to us in our somewhat curious-looking ‘Firebraces.’ Still earlier than any of these we find the sobriquet ‘Swartbrand.’ Thus we see the arm wielded a powerful influence over names as well as people, no mere accident in a day when ‘might was right.’ ‘Main,’ when not local, corresponds to the Saxon ‘Hand,’ and is found in composition in such designations as ‘Blanchmains,’ that is, white-hand, ‘Grauntmains,’ big-hand, ‘Tortesmain,’ twisted-hand, ‘Malemeyn,’ evil-hand, or perhaps maimed-hand, equivalent therefore to ‘Male-braunch’ (found at the same early date) in ‘Mainstrong,’ a mere variation of ‘Armstrong,’ and in ‘Quarterman,’ scarcely recognisable in such an English-like form as the Norman ‘Quatre-main,’ the four-handed. In the reign of the second Richard it had become registered as ‘Quatremayn’ and ‘Quatreman,’ and the inversion of the two letters in this latter case was of course inevitable.459 ‘Brazdifer,’ I have said, is extinct—not so, however, ‘Pedifer’ (‘Bernard Pedefer,’ G., ‘Fulbert Pedefer,’ X.), that is, iron-footed, which, occurring from the earliest times, still looks stout and hearty in its present guise of ‘Petifer,’ ‘Pettifer,’460 and ‘Potiphar,’ though the last would seem to claim for it a pedigree nearly as ancient as that of the Welshman who, half-way up his genealogical tree, had made the interesting note: ‘About this time Adam was born.’ Even this name, however, did not escape translation, for we find an ‘Ironfoot’ (‘Peter Yrenefot,’ A.) recorded at the same date as the above.461 Our ‘Legges,’ our ‘Shanks’ and ‘Footes,’462 are all familiar to us, though the first is in most cases undoubtedly local, as being but an olden form of ‘Leigh.’463 We all remember the inimitable couplet placed over the memorial to Samuel Foote, the comedian—
Here lies one Foote, whose death may thousands save,
For death has now one foot within the grave.
‘Jambe’ was the Norman synonym of ‘Shank,’ and by way of more definite distinction we light upon the somewhat flattering ‘Bellejambe,’ the equally unflattering ‘Foljambe,’ the doubtful ‘Greyshank,’464 the historic ‘Longshank,’ the hapless ‘Cruikshank’ or ‘Bowshank,’465 the decidedly uncomplimentary ‘Sheepshank,’ and, last and worst, ‘Pelkeshank,’ seemingly intended to be ‘Pelican-shanked,’ which, when we recall the peculiar disproportion of that bird’s extremities to the rest of its body, affords ample reason for the absence of that sobriquet in our more modern rolls. Some fifty years ago a certain Mr. Sheepshanks, of Jesus College, Cambridge, while undergoing an examination in Juvenal, pronounced ‘satire’ ‘satyr.’ A wag, thereupon, wrote the following epigram, which soon found its way through the University:—
The satyrs of old were satyrs of note,
With the head of a man, they’d the shanks of a goat:
But the satyr of Jesus all satyrs surpasses,
Whilst his shanks are a sheep’s, his head is an ass’s.
Swiftness of foot was not allowed to go unrecorded, and we have an interesting instance of the way in which this class of surnames arose from an entry recorded in the ‘Issues of the Exchequer.’ There we find a ‘Ralph Swyft’ mentioned as courier to Edward III. Nothing could be more natural than for such a sobriquet to become affixed to a man fulfilling an office like this, requiring, as it did at times, all the running and riding powers of which he could be capable.466 Other memorials of former agility in this respect are still preserved in our ‘Golightlys’467 and ‘Lightfoots,’ while of still earlier date, and more poetical form, we may instance ‘Harefoot’ and ‘Roefoot.’ These, however, are altogether inexpressive in comparison with such a sobriquet as ‘Scherewind’ or ‘Shearwind,’ which seems to have been a familiar expression at this time, for I find it recorded in three several rolls. It is strange, and yet not strange, that every peculiarity that can mark the human gait is distinctly preserved in our nomenclature. ‘Isabel Stradling’ or ‘William Stradling’ represent the straddle; ‘Thomas le Ambler’ or ‘Ralph le Ambuler’ (when not occupative), the amble; our ‘Shailers,’ ‘Shaylors,’ and ‘Shaylers,’ the shuffle; ‘Robert le Liltere,’ the hop; our ‘Scamblers’ and ‘Shamblers,’ the weak-kneed shamble; ‘Ralph le Todeler,’ the toddle; and ‘Samuel Trotman’ or ‘Richard Trotter’ (when not occupative), the trot, if that be possible on two legs. Besides these, we may mention the obsolete ‘Thomas Petitpas’ or ‘John Petypase,’ ‘William Noblepas,’ and ‘Malpas,’ which we might Saxonize into ‘Short-step,’ ‘High-step,’ and ‘Bad-step.’ ‘Christiana Lameman’ and ‘William Laymeman’ remind us of more pitiable weaknesses. ‘Barefoot’ may have been the designation of some one under penitential routine, unless it be a corruption of ‘Bearfoot.’ ‘Proudfoot’ and ‘Platfoot’ (plat = flat) need no comment, while ‘Sikelfoot,’ found by Mr. Lower as existing in the thirteenth century, seems, as he says, to bespeak a splayed appearance or outward twist.468 If this be so, the owner was not alone in his distress. We have just mentioned ‘Cruikshank.’ Our ‘Crooks’ are, I doubt not, of similar origin, and another compound of the same, now obsolete, was ‘Crookbone’ (‘Henry Crokebane,’ A.). Our ‘Crumps’ are but relics of the old ‘Richard le Crumpe’ or ‘Hugh le Crump,’ the crookbacked, and perhaps our ‘Cramps’ and ‘Crimps’ are but changes rung on the same. Our nursery literature still preserves the story of the ‘cow with the crumpled horn.’ Thus, also, was it with our ‘Cams,’ once ‘William le Cam.’ As a Celtic stream-name, denoting a winding course, it has survived the aggressions of Saxon and Norman, and is still familiar. Cambridge and Camford are on two different streams of this name. In the north a man is still said to ‘cam his shoe’ who wears it down on one side. I have heard the phrase often among the poorer classes of Lancashire. ‘Camoys’ or ‘Camuse,’ from the same root, was generally applied to the nasal organ. In the description of the Miller, which I shall have occasion to quote again shortly, Chaucer says—
A Sheffield thwitel bare he in his hose,
Round was his face, and camuse was his nose.
As, however, I find both ‘John le Camoys’ and ‘Reginald de Camoys,’ it is only a fair presumption that in some cases it is of Norman local origin. With one of our leading families it is undoubtedly so. The two great clans of ‘Cameron’ and ‘Campbell,’ I may say in passing, though treading upon Scottish soil, are said to mean severally ‘crook-nosed’ and ‘crook-mouthed.’ If this be so, we may see how firmly has this little word imbedded itself upon our nomenclature, if not upon our more general vocabulary. Not to mention ‘Crypling,’ ‘Handless,’ and ‘Onehand,’469 we find ‘Blind’ significative of blindness; ‘Daffe’ and ‘Daft,’ of deafness; ‘Mutter’ and ‘Stutter,’ not to say ‘Stuttard’ and ‘Stammer,’ of lisping speech; and ‘Dumbard,’ of utter incapacity in that respect. Such a sobriquet as ‘Mad’470 of course explains itself. As we might well presume, this has not come down to us. Still less pleasant in their associations are our ‘Burls’ (‘Henry le Burle,’ A.), that is, blotch-skinned. But complimentary allusions to the smoothness of the hands and face were not wanting. Apart from a touch of poetry, such names as ‘Elizabeth Lyllywhite,’ now ‘Lilywhite;’ ‘William Beauflour,’ now spelt ‘Boutflower’ and ‘Buffler;’ and ‘Faith Blanchflower,’ still existing also, are not without a certain prettiness. Of equally clear complexion would be the obsolete ‘William Whiteflesh’ or ‘Gilbert Whitehand’471 or ‘Robert Blanchmains,’ not to mention our ‘Chits’ and ‘Chittys’ (‘John le Chit,’ A., ‘Agnes Chittye,’ Z.). We still talk in our nurseries of a ‘little chit,’ a word which, though strictly speaking confined to no age, had early become a pet name as applied to young children. It is with these, therefore, we must ally our ‘Slicks,’ from ‘sleek,’ ‘smooth,’472 ‘Sam Slick’ being by no means in possession of an imaginary name. Chaucer says of ‘Idleness,’ in his Romance—
Her flesh tender as is a chicke
With bent browes; smooth and slicke.
It is astonishing how carefully will a sobriquet of an undoubtedly complimentary nature find itself preserved. Such a name as ‘Hugh le Bell’ or ‘Richard le Bell’ is an instance in point.473 While objectionable designations, or even those of but equivocal character, have been gradually shuffled off or barely allowed to survive, the mere fact of this being at the present day one of the most familiar, and in respect of sobriquet nomenclature the absolutely most common, of our surnames, shows that the human heart is not altered by lapse of generations, and that pride then, as now, wielded a powerful sceptre over the minds of men. Our ‘Belhams’ represent but the fuller ‘Bellehomme’ (‘William Bellehomme,’ M.). Thus the two may be set against our Saxon ‘Prettys’ and ‘Prettimans,’474 though ‘pretty’ would scarcely find itself so acceptable now, denoting as it does a style of beauty rather too effeminate for the lords of creation. In the Hundred Rolls occur ‘Matilda Winsome’ and ‘Alicia Welliking.’ Both these terms, complimentary as they undoubtedly were, are now obsolete, so far as our directories are concerned.
(2) Nicknames From Peculiarities of Complexion
After all, however, it is, perhaps, complexion which has occupied for itself the largest niche in our more general nomenclature. Nor is this unnatural. It is still that which, in describing people, we seize upon as the best means of recognition. Sobriquets of this kind were so numerous, indeed, that there was no term in the vocabulary of the day which could be used to denote the colour of the dress, the hair, or the face, which did not find itself a place among our surnames.
It was the same with our beasts of burden or animals of the chase. In these days their hides almost invariably furnished forth their current designations. Thus we find the horse familiarly known by such titles as ‘Morell,’ from its moorish or swarthy tan, or ‘Lyard,’ that is, dapple-grey, or ‘Bayard,’ bay, or ‘Favell,’ dun, or ‘Blank,’ white. The dark hide of the ass got for it the sobriquet of ‘Dun,’ a term still preserved in the old proverb, ‘As dull as Dun in the mire,’ while again as ‘Burnell’ its browner aspect will be familiar to all readers of Chaucer. Thus, also, the fox was known as ‘Russell,’ the bear as ‘Bruin,’ and the young hind, from its early indefinite red, ‘Sorrell.’ How natural that the same custom should have its effect upon human nomenclature. How easy for a country community to create the distinction between ‘John le Rouse’ and ‘John le Black,’ ‘William le Hore’ and ‘William le Sor’ or ‘Sorrell,’ if the complexion of the hair or face were sufficiently distinctive to allow it. Some of these adjectives were applied to human peculiarities of this kind till within recent times. Burns uses ‘lyart’ for locks of iron grey, and Aubyn, in his ‘Lives,’ describes Butler, author of ‘Hudibras,’ as having ‘a head of sorrell haire.’ We ourselves talk of ‘brunettes’ and ‘blondes,’ of ‘dark’ and ‘fair.’ Thus it was then such sobriquets as ‘Philip le Sor,’ ‘Adam le Morell,’ ‘William le Favele’ or ‘Favell,’ ‘Walter le Bay’ or ‘Theobald le Bayard,’ ‘Henry le Dun’ or ‘Thomas le Lyard,’ arose. Thus was it our ‘Rouses’ and ‘Russells,’ our ‘Brownes’475 and ‘Brunes,’ with the obsolete ‘Brunman,’ or ‘Brunells’ and ‘Burnells,’ our ‘Whites’ and ‘Whitemans,’ our ‘Hores’ and ‘Hoares,’ our ‘Greys’ and ‘Grissels’476 sprang into being. Nor are these all. Our ‘Reeds,’ ‘Reids,’ and ‘Reads’ are all but forms of the old ‘rede’ or red, once so pronounced;477 while ‘Redman,’ when not a descendant of ‘Adam’ or ‘Thomas de Redmayne,’ is the bequest of some ‘Robert’ or ‘John Redman’ of the thirteenth century. Our ‘Swarts’ are but relics of the old ‘John le Swarte,’ applied no doubt to the tawny or sunburnt face of its original owner. The word was in common use at this time. In ‘Guy of Warwick’ we are told:—
His nek is greater than a bole,
His body is swarter than ani cole.
The darker-hued countenances of our forefathers are immortalised also in such entries as ‘Reyner le Blake’ or ‘Stephen le Blak,’ now found as ‘Blake’ and ‘Black,’ or ‘Elias le Blakeman’ or ‘Henry Blacman,’ now ‘Blakeman’ and ‘Blackman’ respectively. ‘John le Blanc’ and ‘Warin Blench’ find themselves in the nineteenth century supported by our ‘Blanks’ and ‘Blanches;’478 while the descendants of such people as ‘Amabilla le Blund,’ or ‘Walter le Blunt,’ or ‘Reginald le Blond,’ or ‘Richard le Blount’ still preserve a memorial of their ancestry in such familiar forms as ‘Blund,’ ‘Blunt,’ ‘Blond,’ and ‘Blount.’ ‘Blanket’ and ‘Blanchet,’ as fuller forms, we shall notice shortly, and ‘Blondin,’ ‘Blundell,’ and the immortalised but mythic ‘Blondel’ are but changes rung upon the others. Our ‘Fallows’ are but relics of the ‘Fales’ and ‘Falemans’ of the Hundred Rolls. The somewhat pallid yellow they represented we still apply to park deer and untilled earth. We find it, however, used more personally in the ‘Knight’s Tale,’ where it is said of Arcite that he began to wax lean—
His eye hollow, and grisly to behold,
His hewe falew, and pale as ashen cold.
‘Scarlet’ doubtless was a sobriquet given, as may have been some of the above, from the colour of the dress, this being a very popular complexion of cloth in early days. Tripping it—
In skerlet kyrtells, every one, would be a familiar and pretty sight, no doubt, as the village maidens went round to the tune of the fife and tabor at the rural feast or ingathering, nor would umbrage be taken at the title. Several ‘Blues’ are recorded in the more Norman-French form of ‘le Bleu.’ Whether they still exist I am not quite sure, nor are we helped to any satisfactory conclusion by the epitaph which Mr. Lower wisely italicises, when he says it is said to exist in a church in Berkshire—
Underneath this ancient pew
Lieth the body of Jonathan Blue.
N.B.—His name was ‘Black,’ but that wouldn’t do.
There may be more or less doubt as to the precise reference some of the above-mentioned names bear to the physical peculiarities of their owners, whether to the complexion of the face, or the hair, or, as I have lately hinted, to the dress. But in many other cases there can be no such controversy. For instance, no one can be in perplexity as to how our ‘Downyheads,’ ‘Rufheads,’479 ‘Hardheads,’ ‘Whiteheads,’ ‘Redheads,’ ‘Flaxenheads,’480 ‘Shavenheads,’ ‘Goldenheads,’ ‘Weaselheads,’481 ‘Coxheads’ or ‘Cocksheads,’ and ‘Greenheads’ arose, many of which, now extinct, were evidently intended to be obnoxious. Nor is there any greater difficulty in deciphering the meaning of such names as ‘Whitelock’ or ‘Whitlock,’ ‘Silverlock’ or ‘Blacklock.’ ‘Shakelock’ seems to refer to some eccentricity on the part of the owner, unless it be but a corruption of ‘Shacklock,’ a likely sobriquet for a gaoler, from the fetterlocks, once so termed, which he was wont to employ—
And bids his man bring out the fivefold twist,
His shackles, shacklocks, hampers, gyves, and chains.
‘Whitehair,’482 ‘Fairhair,’483 and ‘Yalowhair,’ are equally transparent. The latter was once a decidedly favourite hue, as I believe it is still, only we now say ‘golden.’484 With the gross flattery so commonly resorted to by courtier historians, every princess was described as having yellow tresses. How they allowed themselves to be so cajoled is an equally historic mystery. Queen Elizabeth had more obsequious adulation uttered to her face, and possessed a greater stomach for it, than any other royal personage who ever sat upon or laid claim to a crown, but nothing pleased her more than a compliment upon her golden locks, carroty as they really were. In a description of another Elizabeth, the Queen of Henry VII., as she appeared before her coronation, 1487, quoted by Mr. Way, it is said that she wore ‘her faire yellow hair hanging down pleyne behynd her back, with a calle of pipes over it,’ and further back still, when Chaucer would describe the beauty of Dame Gladness, he must needs finish off the portrayal by touching up her locks with the popular hue—
Her hair was yellow, and clear shining,
I wot no lady so liking.
‘Yalowhair’ is obsolete, but in our ‘Fairfax’ is preserved a sobriquet commemorative no doubt of the same favoured colour. In ‘Sir Gawayne’ we are told, after the alliterative style of the day, how ‘fair fanning fax’ encircled the shoulders of the doughty warrior. In the ‘Townley Mysteries,’ too, a demon is represented in one place as saying—
A horne, and a Dutch axe,
His sleeve must be flecked,
A syde head, and a fare fax,
His goune must be specked.
‘Beard,’ once entered as ‘Peter Wi’-the-berd,’ or ‘Hugo cum-Barbâ,’ still thrives in our midst; and even ‘Copperbeard,’ ‘Greybeard,’ ‘Blackbeard,’485 and ‘Whitebeard’ contrive to exist. ‘Redbeard’486 together with ‘Featherbeard,’ ‘Eaglebeard,’ ‘Wisebeard,’ and ‘Brownbeard,’487 have long disappeared, and ‘Bluebeard,’ of whose dread existence we were, as children, only too awfully assured, has also left no descendants; but this, I fancy, we gather from his history. ‘Lovelock’ is a relic of the once familiar plaited and beribboned lock which I have already alluded to, as having been familiarly worn by our forefathers of the more exquisite type. To the same peculiar, if not effeminate propensity, we owe, I doubt not, ‘Locke’ (‘Nicol Locke,’ A.) itself, not to mention ‘Curl’ (‘Marcus Curle,’ Z.) and ‘Crisp’ (‘Reginald le Crispe,’ J.). The former of these two, however, seems to denote the natural waviness, the latter the artificial production. In the poem from which I have but just quoted we find the same hero described as having his hair—
Well crisped and cemmed (combed) with knots full many, and a memorial of the fashion still lingers in the ‘crisping pins’ of our present Bible version. In the Hundred Rolls appears the sobriquet of ‘Prikeavant.’ This, as Mr. Lower proves, lingered on till the close at least of the seventeenth century, in the form of ‘Prick-advance.’488 I cannot agree with him, however, that it arose as a mere spur-expression. I doubt not it is but the earlier form of the later ‘pickedevaunt,’ the pointed or spiked beard so much in vogue in mediæval times. The word occurs in the ‘Taming of a Shrew’—
Boy, oh! disgrace to my person! Sounes, boy,
Of your face! You have many boys with such
Pickedevaunts, I am sure.
Nothing could be more natural than for such a custom as this to find itself memorialised in our nomenclature. Exaggeration in the habit would easily affix the name upon the wearer, and though not very euphonious as a surname, the popularity of the usage would take from its unpleasantness. This also will explain ‘Thomas Stykebeard,’ found in the H.R. at this time. But let us turn for a moment to an opposite peculiarity. Though we often talk of getting our heads polled, few, I imagine, reflect that our ‘Pollards’ must have obtained their title from their well-shorn appearance. It is with them, therefore, we must set our ‘Notts,’ ‘Notmans,’ and doubtless some of our ‘Knotts.’ The term ‘nott’ was evidently synonymous with ‘shorn,’ and to have a nothead was to have the hair closely cut all round the head. It is still commonly done in some parts of the country among the peasantry. Chaucer, describing the ‘Yeoman,’ says—
A not-hed hadde he, with a browne visage.
Andrew Boorde, too, later on, writing of the ‘Mores whyche do dwel in Barbary,’ says: ‘They have gret lyppes and nottyd heare, black and curled.’489 The name as a sobriquet is very common in the old registers. Among other instances may be mentioned ‘Henry le Not’ and ‘Herbert le Notte’ in the ‘Placitorum’ at Westminster. Nature, however, did for our ‘Callows’ what art had done for the latter. The term is written ‘calewe’ with our earlier writers, and in this form is found as a surname in 1313, one ‘Richard le Calewe,’ or bald-headed, occurring in the Parliamentary Writs for that year. We still talk of fledgelings as ‘callow young.’ From its Latin root ‘calvus,’490 and through the French ‘chauve,’ we get also the early ‘John le Chauf,’ ‘Geoffrey le Cauf,’ and ‘Richard le Chaufyn’—forms which still abide with us in our ‘Corfes’ and ‘Caffins.’ Our ‘Balls’ are manifestly sprung from some ‘Custance Balde’ or ‘Richard Bald.’ But there is yet one more name to be mentioned in this category, that of ‘Peel’ or ‘Peile,’ descended, as it doubtless is in many cases, from such folk as ‘Thomas le Pele’ or ‘William le Pyl.’
As pilled as an ape was his crown is the not very complimentary description Chaucer gives of the Miller of Trumpington. It is but the same word as occurs in our Authorised Version of Ezekiel xxix. 18, where it is said: ‘Every head was made bald, and every shoulder was peeled.’ In Isaiah xviii. 2, too, we read of a ‘nation scattered and peeled,’ the marginal reading being ‘outspread and polished.’491 Used as a surname, it seems to have denoted that glossy smoothness, that utter guiltlessness of capillary protection which belongs only to elderly gentlemen, and even then to but a few.492
It can be no matter of astonishment to us, when we reflect upon it, that our nomenclature should owe so much to this one single specialty of the human physique. The face is the mark of all recognition among men, and how much of its character belongs to the simple appanage we have been speaking of we may easily gather from the difference the slightest change in the style of dressing or cutting it makes among those with whom we are most familiar. Looking back at what has been recorded, what a living proof they afford us of the truth of Horace Smith’s assertion that surnames ‘ever go by contraries.’ The art of colouring may be hereditary, but certainly not the dyes themselves. Who ever saw a ‘Whytehead’ who was not dark, or a ‘Blacklock’ who was not a blonde? Who ever saw reddish hair on a ‘Russell,’ or a swarthy complexion on a ‘Morell’? How invariably does it happen that our ‘Lightfoots’ are gouty, and our ‘Hales’ dyspeptic, our ‘Bigges’ are manikins, and our ‘Littles’ giants. Such are the tricks that Time plays with us. Recorded history gives us the slow development of change in the habits and customs of domestic life, but here we can compare the physical shifts of the family itself. As history and everything else, however, are said to repeat themselves, we may comfort or condole with, as the case may require, those who, if this dictum, like the Pope’s, be infallible, shall some time or other return to their primitive hues and original proportions.
(3) Nicknames From Peculiarities of Dress and Accoutrements
An interesting peep into the minuter details of mediæval life is given us in the case of names derived from costume and ensigncy, whether peaceful or warlike. The colour of the cloth of which the dress was composed seems to have furnished us with several surnames. For instance, our ‘Burnets’ would seem to be associated with the fabric of a brown mixture common at one period. Our great early poet, in describing Avarice, says—
A mantle hung her faste by
Upon a benche weak and small,
A burnette cote hung there withall,
Furred with no minevere,
But with a furre rough of hair.
It was the same with our ‘Burrels’ (‘Roger Burell,’ J., ‘Robert Burell,’ R.), whom I have already had occasion to mention. So familiar was this cloth that the poorer classes acquired from it the sobriquet of ‘borelfolk.’ This is only analogous to the French ‘grisette,’ from the grey cheap stuff she usually wore. Our ‘Blankets’ (‘Robert Blanket,’ B., ‘John Blanket,’ X.) or ‘Blanchets’ or ‘Plunkets,’493 for all these forms are found, are in the same way but relics of the time when the colourless woollen mixture, called by all these names, was in everyday demand, whether for dress or coverlet. A story has been spread abroad that our woollen ‘blanket’ owes its origin to a man of that name, who first manufactured it. Even otherwise well-informed writers have lent themselves to the furtherance of this fable. ‘Blanket’ was originally the name of a cheap woollen cloth, used for the apparel of the lower orders, and so entitled from its pale and colourless hue, just as russet and burrel were in vogue to express similar manufactures of more decided colours. It was but the Norman form of the Saxon ‘whittle,’ once the household word for this fabric. Thus we find it occurring in an old Act, already referred to, passed in 1363, to restrict the dress of the peasantry:—All people not possessing 40 shillings’ worth of goods and chattels ‘ne usent nule manere de drap, si noun blanket et russet, laune de xiid.,’ that is, shall not take nor wear any manner of cloth, but blanket and russet wool of twelvepence. (Stat. Realm, vol. i. p. 381.) An old indenture of goods contains the following:—‘Item, 1 olde Kendale gowne, and a hood of the same, pris ixd., the gowne lynyd with white blanket.’ (Mun. Acad. Oxon., p. 566.) Both ‘Whittle’ and ‘Blanket’ are existing surnames. The reader will see from these references alone that, whether in the case of the man or the manufacture, it is the colour, or rather lack of colour, which has given the sobriquet. Our ‘Greenmans,’ whether as surname or tavern sign, are but sprung from the old forester—
Clad in cote and hode of grene, of Lincoln or Kendal make. The ‘Greenman’ was a favourite rural signboard, and I doubt not the reader will have seen it occasionally swinging still in the more retired parts of the country. Crabbe knew it well in his day—
But the ‘Green Man’ shall I pass by unsung,
Which mine own James upon his signpost hung?
His sign, his image—for he once was seen
A squire’s attendant, clad in keeper’s green.
Turning from the colour of the cloth to the garments into which it was fashioned, nothing could be more natural to our forefathers than to take off with a sobriquet the more whimsical aspects of dress indulged in by particular individuals. Royalty itself did not escape. It was through his introduction of a new fashion our second Henry got his nickname of ‘Curtmantel,’ and this was matched by ‘Capet’ and ‘Grisegonel’ across the water. ‘Richard Curtepy’ reminds us of the poor clerk of whom Chaucer says—
Full thredbare was his overest courtepy, that is, his cloak or gabardine. ‘Henry Curtmantle,’ just mentioned, ‘Martin Curtwallet,’ and ‘Robert Curthose’ (still existing in Derbyshire in the more Saxon form of ‘Shorthose’),494 satirise the introduction of a curtailment in the general as ‘Reginald Curtbrant’ does in the more military habit; ‘Richard Widehose’ and the Scotch ‘Macklehose,’ on the other hand, suggesting a change of an opposite and more sailorlike character. ‘Hose,’ itself a surname, is again found in composition in ‘Richard Goldhose,’ ‘Nicholas Strokehose,’ ‘John Scrothose’ (‘Scratchhose,’), and ‘Richard Letherhose;’ the latter still to be met with in Germany as ‘Ledderhose.’ ‘Emma Wastehose,’ though now obsolete, evidently bespoke the reckless habits of the wearer, while ‘John Sprenhose’ (i.e., ‘Spurnhose’) seems to have declared its owner’s want of appreciation of that article altogether. The old ‘paletoque’ or doublet, a loose kind of frock often worn by priests, left itself a memorial in ‘Thomas Pyletok,’ which is now extinct, but ‘Pylch’ (‘Symon Pylche,’ A.), the maker of which has already been mentioned, remains hale and hearty in our midst. ‘Mantel’ (‘Walter Mantel,’ L.) and ‘Fremantel’495 are well established among us, the latter probably owing its origin to the frieze-cloth which the Frieslander of the Low Countries once manufactured out of our own wool. It is Latinized in our records into ‘Hugh de Frigido-Mantello,’ and the cloth itself as ‘Frisius pannus.’496 The herald’s tunic, barely covering the chest and open from the shoulder downwards, gave us our ‘Tabards.’ It must have had plenty of last in it, for Piers Plowman talks of—
A tawny tabard of twelf wynters age.
The variegated dress, much in favour then apparently, still survives in our ‘Medlecote’ and ‘Medlicott.’497 The stuffed doublet gave us ‘Thomas Gambeson,’ now perhaps ‘Gamson,’ while the short petticoat is memorialised in ‘John Grenecurtel.’ ‘Alicia Caperon’ and ‘Thomas Chaperoun’ are early found. The chaperon was a hood by which the entire face could be concealed if it were so desired. Taylor, in the seventeenth century, mentions it as but recently out of fashion—
Her shapperoones, her periwigs and tires,
Are reliques which this flattery much admires.
It is thus, by a somewhat strange but easy association of ideas, has come our modern protector in society so called.
Excess of apparel has often in olden days been under penal statute. Chaucer, in his time, decried its abuse, and an old rhyme of Edward III. date is still preserved, which is scathing enough—
Longbeards, heartlesse,
Painted hoods, witlesse,
Gaycoates, gracelesse,
Makes England thriftlesse.
We are reminded in this of ‘Gai-cote’ (‘William Gaicote,’ A.), which once was a surname, though now extinct. ‘Woolward’ or ‘Woolard’ (‘Geoffey Woleward,’ A., ‘Reginald Wolleward,’ N.) still thrives. To go ‘woolward’ was to undergo the penance of wearing the outer woollen cloth without any linen under-dress. It was often prescribed by the priesthood. Piers, in his Vision, says—
Wolleward and weetshoed
Wente I forth;
while another old poem bids us—
Faste, and go wolward, and wake,
And suffre hard for Godys sake.498
The name was not an unfrequent one at the time of which I am writing, and I doubt not was oftentimes familiarly applied to friars. We must probably refer to more warlike accoutrements for the origin of our ‘Gantletts’ or ‘Gauntletts’ (‘Henry Gauntelett,’ Z., ‘Roger Gauntlet,’ Z.), our ‘Pallets’ and ‘Vizards.’ The latter was that part of the helmet which was perforated for the wearer to see through, ‘pallet’ being the general term for the helmet itself. ‘Ranulf Strong-bowe’ was a likely sobriquet for a brawny-armed bowman to acquire, and, like ‘Isabella Fortiscue’ (brave shield) and ‘Emelina Longespee,’ belongs to more general history. ‘Sword,’ ‘Buckler,’ ‘Lance,’499 ‘Spear,’ ‘Pike,’ ‘Bill,’ the renowned ‘Brownbill,’ and others too many for enumeration, have similarly found a place in our nomenclature. What a revolution in the mode of warfare do they betoken. What a sweeping change has the invention of gunpowder effected on the battlegrounds of Europe.
But I mentioned ‘badges.’ It is amusing to see how the early love of distinctive ensigns has made its mark here. While it is an English instinct to reverence authority, this authority itself has ever been distinguished by the outward manifestation of dress and emblem. The ceremonious requirements of the feudal state have had their effect. As I endeavoured to show in a previous chapter, these were simply overwhelming. The office of each was not more distinct than his outward accompaniments, and it was by the latter his precise position was known. The ‘baton,’ however, seems to have held the foremost place as a token of authority—a sword, a javelin, a spear, a wand, a rod, it mattered not what, a something borne in the hand, and you might have known in that day an official. Nor are we as yet free from its influence. Royalty still has its sceptre, the Household of State its ‘black rod,’ magistracy has its mace, proctorship its poker, the churchwarden his staff, the beadle—far the most important of all to the charity children and himself—his stick. From official, this rage for badges seems to have passed on to the quieter and more ordinary avocations. The shepherd was not better known by his crook, the huntsman not better known by his horn, than the pilgrim by his ‘bourdon,’ the woodward by his ‘bill,’ or the surveyor by his ‘meteyard’500 or ‘metewand.’ How easy then for all these words to be turned into sobriquets. How natural they should become slang epithets for those who carried them. How natural that we should find them all in our directories. ‘Meatyard,’ ‘Burdon’ or ‘Bourdon,’ ‘Crook,’ ‘Wand,’ ‘Staff,’ ‘Rodd,’ ‘Horne,’501 all are there. Nor did the personal characteristics of such bearers escape the good-humoured raillery of our ancestors. Far from it. ‘Waghorn,’502 would easily fix itself upon some awkward horn-blower; ‘Wagspear’ (‘Mabill Wagspere,’ W. 1.), or ‘Shakespeare’ (‘William Shakespeare,’ V. 1.), or ‘Shakeshaft’503 or ‘Drawsword’ (‘Henry Drawswerde,’ A.), or ‘Drawespe’ (‘Thomas Drawespe,’ A.) upon some over-demonstrative sergeant or clearer of the way; or ‘Wagstaffe’ (‘Robert Waggestaff,’ A.) on some obnoxious beadle.504 ‘Tipstaffe’ we know for certain as a name of this class—he was a bumbailiff. In 1392 one Roger Andrew was publicly indicted for pretending to be an officer of the Marshalsea, which he did by bearing a ‘wooden staff with horn at either end, called a “tippestaffe.”’ It does not seem, however, to have been confined only to him. Chaucer says of the frère, that—
With scrippe, and tipped staf, tucked high
In every house he gan to pore and pry;
and but two lines further on he tells us—
His felaw had a staff tipped with horn, which thus explicitly explains the term. The same humour found vent in ‘John Swyrdebrake,’505 ‘Adrian Breakspear,’ ‘William Longstaffe,’ ‘Antony Halstaff’ (perchance ‘Hale-staff’),506 and ‘Thomas Ploghstaf’ (Plowstaff). With one or two more general terms of this class we may proceed. ‘Robert Hurlebat’507 and ‘Matthew Winspear,’ ‘Richard Spurdaunce’ and ‘Robert Bruselance,’ ‘Simon Lovelaunce’ and ‘Thomas Crakyshield,’508 ‘Roger Benbow,’ ‘Cicely Brownsword,’ and ‘Thomas Shotbolte,’ are evidently nicknames fastened upon certain individuals for special prowess in some of the sports of the Middle Ages, probably at some church-ale or wakes.
II — Mental and Moral Peculiarities
(1) Nicknames From Peculiarities of Disposition — Complimentary
Let us now turn to the varied characteristics of the human heart. If we wish to know how many good and excellent qualities there are in the world, and at the same time deceive ourselves into a belief that the evils are few, we must look into our directories. Scan their contents, and we might almost persuade ourselves that Utopia was a fact, and that we were consulting its muster-roll. At every turn we meet with virtue in the guise of a ‘Goode,’ or an ‘Upright,’ or a ‘Righteous,’509 or a ‘Patient,’ or a ‘Best,’ or a ‘Faithful;’ or infallibility in a ‘Perfect’ or ‘Faultless.’ We are ever coming across philosophy in the shape of a ‘Wise’ or a ‘Sage.’ Conscience must surely trouble but little, where ‘Merry’ and ‘Gay,’ ‘Blythe’ and ‘Joyce,’ that is, joyous, are all but interminable; and companionship must be ever sweet with such people to converse with as ‘Makepeace’510 and ‘Friend,’ ‘Goodhart’ and ‘Truman,’ ‘True’ and ‘Leal,’ ‘Kind’ and ‘Curtis’ or ‘Curteis.’ ‘Fulhardy’ and ‘Giddyhead,’ ‘Cruel’ and ‘Fierce,’ ‘Wilfulle’ and ‘Sullen,’ and ‘Envious’ did indeed find a habitation in its pages, but they have long since disappeared, being quite out of place in the presence of such better folk as ‘Hardy’511 and ‘Grave,’ and ‘Gentle’ and ‘Sweet;’ or if the cloven foot of pride be still visible in ‘Proud’ and ‘Proudfoot,’ it is nevertheless under constant rebuke by our familiarity with such lowly characters as ‘Humble’ and ‘Meek.’512 Nevertheless, this was anything but so in the old time. The evil roots of sin may still abide hale and strong and ineradicable in the heart of man, but he has carefully weeded the more apparent traces of this out of his nomenclature. I do not mean to say we are utterly without names of objectionable import, but we shall see that what I have stated once before is true in the main. We shall see that as a rule it is only when the sobriquet word has changed its meaning, or that meaning become obscure and doubtful, or when the name itself has lost the traces of its origin—easy enough in the lapse of so many days of unsettled orthography—that the surname has lingered on. This will make itself apparent as we advance.
Such names as ‘Walter Snel,’ ‘Richard Quicke’ (A.), including the immortal Quickly, ‘Richard le Smert’ (M.), now ‘Smart,’ ‘Thomas Scharp,’ now ‘Sharp,’513 ‘Gilbert Poygnant’ (A.), ‘Thedric le Witte’ (A.), now ‘Witt’ and ‘Witty,’ ‘Nicholas le Cute’ (A.), and ‘Ralph le Delivre’514 (M.M.), argue well for the keen perceptions and brisk habits of early days.515 The slang sense of several of these, strangely enough, is but the original meaning restored. ‘Witty’ arose when the word implied keenness of intellect rather than of humour. Chaucer thus speaks of ‘witty clerkes,’ using the latter word too in a perfectly unofficial sense. Our numberless ‘Clarkes’ and ‘Clerkes,’ sprung from equally numberless ‘Beatrix le Clercs’ or ‘Milo le Clerks,’ may therefore belong either to the professional class or to the one we are considering. ‘William le Frek’ (M.) or ‘Ralph Frike’ (A.), now found as ‘Freak,’ ‘Frick,’ and ‘Freke,’ was a complimentary sobriquet implicative of bravery and daring even to rashness.516 Minot in his political songs tells us in alliterative verse how the doughty men of Edward the Third’s army were—
Ful frek to fight.
The old ‘William le Orpede,’ or ‘Stephen le Horpede,’ or ‘Peter Orpedeman’ denotes a disposition equally stout-hearted.517 It is a term found in well-nigh all our mediæval writers, and was evidently in common and familiar use. Trevisa, in his account of the Norman invasion, represents ‘Gurth’ as saying to Harold, ‘Why wilt thou unwary fight with so many orped men?’ The monk of Glastonbury also, speaking of Edward the Third’s expedition to Calais in 1350, relates that he ‘towke with him the nobleis, and the gentelles, and other worthi and orpedde menne of armes.’ Our ‘Keats’ and ‘Ketts’ are the old ‘Walter le Ket’ (G.) or ‘Osbert le Ket’ (J.), that is, the fierce, the bold. Thus the cowherd in ‘William of Pelerne’ directs the child how to conduct himself—
When thou komest to kourt
Among the kete lordes.
With these therefore we may associate ‘William le Prew,’ now ‘Prew,’518 ‘Nicholas Vigerous,’ now found also as ‘Vigors,’ ‘Helen Gallant,’ ‘John le Stallworth,’519 ‘Thomas Doughtye,’ and ‘Robert le Bolde,’ all still well-known names. ‘Prest,’ ‘Peter le Prest’ (M.), when not the archaic form of ‘Priest,’ is of kin to the mountebank’s ‘presto,’ and means—quick, ready. It was thus used till the seventeenth century. ‘Kean,’ found as ‘Hugh le Kene’ or ‘Joan le Kene,’ implies impetuosity. All these names speak well for the pluck of our forefathers. They are found with tolerable frequency, and naturally have not been suffered to die out for lack of pride. The Norman element, as we see, is strong in these chivalrous sobriquets. Nor is it less so with many other terms of no unpleasant meaning. Our ‘Purefoys’ or ‘Purfeys’ represent the pure faith of their countrymen.520 Our ‘Parfitts’ are but the quainter form of ‘Perfect.’521 Our ‘Bones,’ ‘Boons,’ and ‘Bunns’ are but variously corrupted forms of ‘Duran le Bon,’ or ‘Richard le Bone,’ or ‘Alice le Bonne,’ or ‘William le Boon,’ equivalent therefore to the earlier ‘Goods.’ ‘Bunker’ is similarly but ‘Bon-cœur’ (‘William Bonquer,’ O.),522 our Saxon ‘Goodhart,’ and ‘Bonner,’ and the longer ‘Debonaire’ (‘Philip le Debeneyre,’ A.),523 our more naturalized ‘Gentle’ (‘William le Gentil,’ M.), ‘Gentilman’ (‘Robert Gentilman,’ V. 1.),524 and ‘Curteis’ or ‘Curtis’ (‘Walter le Curteys’ J., ‘Richard le Curteis,’ C.), Chaucer says—
All men holde thee for musarde,
That debonaire have founden thee.
‘Amiable’ (‘Edward Amiable,’ Z., ‘Joan Amiable,’ Z.) once existed, but in our registers, at least, that sweet grace is now wanting. Equivalent to these latter, but more Saxon in character, come our ‘Hendys’ or ‘Hentys’ (‘Thomas le Hendy,’ F.F., ‘John le Hendy,’ F.F.), a term found in all our early writers, and prettily expressive of that which was gentle and courteous combined. In the ‘Canterbury Tales’ the host reproves the friar for lack of civility to one of the company by saying—
Sire, ye should be hende,
And curteis as a man of your estate,
In company we will have no debate.
In the Hundred Rolls we find a ‘William Hendiman’ occurring, and a ‘John Hende’ was Lord Mayor of London in 1391. We have just mentioned the word ‘musarde.’ This reminds us of our ‘Musards’ (‘Malcolm le Musard,’ M.), who were originally of a dreamy temperament.525 With our Saxon ‘Moodys’526 (‘Richard Mody,’ G.), however, their title has fallen in general estimation, the one now denoting, when used at all, a trifling, the other a morose and gloomy disposition. Our ‘Sadds’ (‘Robert Sad,’ H.), too, from being merely serious, sedate folk, have become sorrowful of heart. Our great early poet speaks in the negative sense of—
People unsad and eke untrue, that is, unstable and fickle. In a short poem, ascribed to Lydgate, pointing out to children their course of behaviour in company, we are told—
Who spekithe to thee in any maner place,
Rudely cast not thyn eye adowne,
But with a sad cheer look hym in the face.527
Here of course sobriety of demeanour, rather than sorrowfulness, is intended.528 That ‘Henry le Wepere’ (A.), and ‘Peter le Walur’ (A.), and ‘William le Blubere’ (A.), however, must have been of rueful countenance we need not doubt.
Many changes too have passed over the names as well doubtless as over the lives of another section of our nomenclatural community. Our ‘Cunnings,’ we will hope, dated from the time when he who kenned his work well was so entitled without any suspicion of duplicity.529 Very likely too our ‘Slys’ (‘John Slye,’ H.), and ‘Sleighs’ (‘Simon le Slegh,’ M.), ‘Slees’ (‘Isabella Slee,’ W.G.), and ‘Slemmans’ and Slymans’ were simply remarkable for being honestly dexterous in their several avocations.530 The ‘mighty hand and outstretched arm’ of modern psalters was once translated ‘a hand that was slegh.’ But as slyness got by degrees but more and more associated with the juggler’s sleight-of-hand tricks, the word fell into disrepute. Such is the invariable effect of keeping bad company. So late, however, as the seventeenth century, one of our commonwealth poets was not misunderstood when he spoke of one whom—
Graver age had made wise and sly.
But the same predisposition to give ‘crafty’ and ‘sly’ and ‘cunning’ and ‘artful’ a dishonest sense has not been therewith content, but must needs throw ridicule upon the unsophisticated and artless natures of our ‘Simples’ (‘Jordan le Simple,’ A.), who would scarcely feel complimented if their surname were to originate in the present day.531 It is the same with our ‘Seeleys’ (‘Benedict Sely,’ D.) and ‘Selymans’ (‘George Selyman,’ D.), the older forms of ‘Silly’ and ‘Sillyman.’ Perhaps the phrase ‘silly lamb’ is the only one in which we colloquially preserve the former idea of ‘silly,’ that of utter guilelessness. A ‘silly virgin’ with Spenser was no foolish maiden, but one helpless in her innocence, and the ‘silly women’ Shakespeare hints at in his ‘Two Gentlemen of Verona’ were but inoffensive and unprotected females.532 ‘Sealey,’ ‘Silly,’ ‘Sillyman,’ and ‘Selyman,’533 are all pleasant memorials of the earlier sense of this word. Our ‘Quaints’ and ‘Cants’ have gone through a changeful career. They are but the descendants of the old ‘Margaret le Coynte’ or ‘Richard le Queynte,’ from the early French ‘coint,’ neat, elegant. A shadow fell over it, however, and a notion of artfulness becoming attached to the word, to be quaint was to be crafty. Thus Wicklyffe, in his translation of St. Mark’s account of Christ’s betrayal, makes Judas say to the servants of the high priest, ‘Whomever I shall touch, he it is, hold ye him, and lead him warily, or queintly.’ Thus, too, Lawrence Minot, in his ‘Political Songs,’ tells us how—
The King of Berne was cant and kene,
But there he lost both play and pride.
Strange to say, the word has well-nigh recovered its original sense, betokening as it does a whimsical and antique prettiness, if not the bare quality itself. Our original ‘Careless’ (‘Antony Careless,’ Z.) was of that happy disposition which the petty worries and anxieties of life do not easily disturb, and, to judge from our nomenclature, he forms but one of a large band of cheery and easy-minded mortals. ‘Joyce,’ that is, ‘Jocose,’ when not a Christian name,534 and ‘Jolly’ must be set here, not forgetting the older and prettier ‘Jolyffe’ (‘Henry Jolyffe,’ M.). In the ‘Miller’s Tale’ we are told of ‘Absolon,’ how that when at eventide he had taken up his ‘giterne’—
Forth he goth, jolif and amorous, to the window of his lady-love. ‘Gay’ (‘William le Gay,’ R.), and ‘Blythe’ (‘Richard Blythe,’ Z.),535 and ‘Merry’ (‘William Merrye,’ Z.), or ‘Merriman’ (‘John Meryman,’ X.), and ‘Gaillard,’ or ‘Gallard,’ or ‘Gayliard,’ or ‘Gaylord’ (‘Nicholas Gaylard,’ T., ‘William Gallard,’ A., ‘Sabina Gaylard,’ H.), must all be placed also in this category.536 I am not quite sure, however, that the last are without a suspicion of that conviviality which the buxom alewife was but too ready to bestow. Our merry, versatile friend Absolon, whom I have just referred to, among other his unclerkly arts, could play on the ‘giterne’ as well as any ‘galliard tapstere.’ It seems to have been a common epithet, and would readily find a place in our nomenclature, where it is now firmly fixed. Our ‘Merryweathers’ (‘Andrew Meriweder,’ A.) and ‘Fairweathers’ (‘John Fayrweder,’ A.)537 may seem somewhat difficult of explanation to those who are unaware of the colloquial use of these expressions in former times, ‘Mery-weder’ especially being of the most familiar import. In the ‘Coventry Mysteries’ mention is made of—
Bontyng the Brewster, and Sybyly Slynge,
Megge Mery-wedyr, and Sabyn Sprynge.
A happy sunshiny fellow would easily acquire the sobriquet, and indeed both are found at a very early day as such.538
Not a few of those expressive terms of endearment, some of which still flourish in our nurseries, have made their mark upon our directories. We have already alluded to our ‘Chittys.’ Our ‘Leafs’ represent the old ‘Alice le Lef’ or ‘Matilda la Lef,’ beloved or dear. We still use it in the well-nigh solitary expression ‘lief as loth,’ but once it was in familiar request. Robert of Brunne, in one of his stories, says—
Blessed be alle poor men,
For God Almyghty loveth them:
And weyl is them that poor are here,
They are with God bothe lefe and dere.
Akin to this latter is ‘Love,’ which, when not the old ‘Robert le Love’ or wolf, is found in composition in not a few instances. ‘Lovekin’ and ‘Lovecock,’ after the remarks made in our first chapter on these terminations, will be readily explainable; and ‘Truelove,’ ‘Derelove,’ ‘Honeylove,’ and ‘Sweetlove’539 supply us with expletives of so amorous a nature, we can but conjecture them to have arisen through the too publicly proclaimed feelings of their early possessors. ‘Newlove’ sounds somewhat inconstant, ‘Winlove’ attractive.540 ‘Goodlove,’ ‘Spendlove,’ and ‘Likelove,’ I believe, are now obsolete—a lot, too, which has befallen the hardened ‘Lacklove,’ while our ‘Fulliloves’541 still declare the brimming affection which belongs to their nature—or at least did to that of their progenitor. But even they are commonplace beside our ‘Waddeloves’ or ‘Waddelows,’ the early form of which, ‘Wade-in-love,’ would seem to tell of some lovesick ancestor so helplessly involved in the meshes cast about him as to have become the object of the unkind sarcasms of his neighbours. A longer and equally curious sobriquet abides in our ‘Wellbeloveds’ and ‘Wellbiloves.’ It is this latter form in which it is found in the ‘Issues of the Exchequer.’542 The French form of this was ‘Bienayme’ (‘William Bienayme,’ A.), and to some settler of that name upon our shores I suspect it is we owe our ‘Bonamys’ (‘William Bonamy,’ A.). I have just mentioned ‘Sweetlove.’ Associated with this are our simpler ‘Sweets,’ the nursery ‘Sweetcock,’ and ‘Sweetman,’543 variously corrupted into ‘Sweatman,’ ‘Swetman,’ and ‘Swatman.’ ‘Bawcock’ and ‘Baucock,’ if not from ‘Baldwin,’ will be the endearing ‘beau-coq,’ once in familiar use. Our ‘Follets,’ ‘Follits,’ and ‘Foliots,’ the last the original form, meant nothing more than ‘my foolish one’ or ‘fond one,’ and were very common. They are but varied in the longer ‘Hugh Folenfaunt,’ but I am afraid ‘Walter Fulhardy’ at the same period is less complimentary. ‘Poppet,’ or puppet, once the doll of English infancy, only remains in the gilded and waxen manikins of the showman. The surname, however, abides with us, as does also ‘Poplett.’ The old ‘fere,’ a companion, has left its mark in our ‘Fairs.’ We all remember Byron’s resuscitation of the word. In ‘Troilus and Cressida,’ mention is made of—
Orpheus and Euridice his fere.
Thus ‘Playfair,’ once written ‘Playfere,’ is simply ‘playfellow,’ while the obsolete ‘Makefere’ (‘Hugh Makefare,’ A.) would seem to be but intensive, ‘make’ being the invariable dress with olden writers of our more familiar ‘mate.’544
There is something in obtrusive virtue that instinctively repels us. We always like a man’s face to be the index to the book of his heart, but when he would seem to have carefully turned down each leaf for our inspection, we get a revulsion of feeling—we like to look out the page for ourselves. An elevated sense of self-esteem was decidedly approved of by our forefathers, but its too demonstrative exhibition soon showed itself condemned in our ‘Prouds,’ ‘Prouts,’ ‘Proudmans,’ ‘Proudloves,’ and ‘Proudfoots’ (‘Hugh le Proud,’ A., ‘John le Prute,’ H., ‘George Proudelove,’ Z.Z., ‘Robert Prudefot,’ A.). A very interesting name which has escaped the notice of surname hunters is that of ‘Gerish’ or ‘Gerrish,’ both forms being found in our modern directories. They are but the truer representatives of the word ‘garish’ as used by our later poets. Shakespeare’s Juliet, we may remember, apostrophizes Night, and bids her, when Romeo be dead, cut him into stars, and thus—
All the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
This splendidly describes the term, expressing as it does that which glares ostentatiously and showily upon the eye. Lydgate, far earlier, had used it thus, in the form of ‘gerysshe;’ and such names as ‘Umfrey le Gerische’ or ‘John le Gerisse,’ found yet more remotely, testify to its once familiar and frequent use. We now talk of a prude as one who exaggerates woman’s innate modesty of demeanour. Formerly it denoted the virtue pure and untravestied. The root, the Latin ‘probus,’ excellent, still remains in our ‘Prudhommes’ (‘William Prodhomme,’ R., ‘Peter Prodhomme,’ A.), with their more commonly corrupted ‘Pridhams’ and ‘Prudames’ and ‘Prudens,’545 a sobriquet which once referred simply to the honest and guileless uprightness of their owners. How truly do such words as these remind us of the poor estimate man, after all, forms of himself. Man often rebels at the declaration of Revelation that he is a fallen being, and yet how strongly does he assert this fact in the changes he himself has made in the meaning of words. Our ‘Bauds’ (‘William le Baud,’ B., ‘Wauter le Baud,’ M.) were once but the Norman equivalent of our ‘Merrys’ already mentioned.546 Must lightness of heart inevitably end in wanton levity? There was a day when our ‘Parramores’ (‘Roger Paramour,’ M.; ‘Henry Parramore,’ Z.)547 were but the simple honest lover of either sex, when our ‘Lemons,’ ‘Lemans,’ and ‘Lemmans’ (‘Eldred Leman,’ A., ‘John Leman,’ M.) meant but the beloved one from ‘lief,’ ‘dear.’ Both Chaucer and Piers Plowman employ the term ‘lef-man’ or ‘leef-man’ as an expression of endearment, with no thought of obloquy. Thus, too, in the ‘Townley Mysteries,’ God is represented as bidding Gabriel to go to Nazareth—
And hail that madyn, my lemman,
As heyndly (courteously) as thou can.
Still, so early as the days of Gower, its corrupted leman had become a sobriquet for one of loose, disorderly habits.548
(2) Nicknames From Peculiarities of Disposition — Objectionable
The mention of such names as ‘Baud,’ ‘Parramore,’ ‘Leman’ or ‘Lemon,’ ‘Proud,’ ‘Proudman,’ and ‘Proudfoot,’ which we have charitably set in the list of complimentary nicknames, as having, perchance, risen at a time when the meaning of the words conveyed a totally different idea from that which they now convey, brings us to the category of those which can scarcely seek any shelter of such a kind. ‘Lorel,’ ‘Lurdan,’ and ‘Lordan,’ together with the once familiar ‘losel’ and ‘losard,’ denoted a waif, or stray, one who preyed upon society, exactly identical, in fact, with the Latin ‘perditus.’ Thus we find Herod, in the ‘Townley Mysteries,’ saying to his officers—
Fie, losels and lyars, lurdans each one,
Tratours and well worse, knaves, but knyghts none.
‘Cocke Lorelle,’ too, speaks of—
Lollers, lordaynes, and fagot berers,
Luskes, slovens, and kechen knaves.
Cotgrave explains a ‘loricard’ to mean a luske, lowt, or lorell. This luske, from the old French lasque, or lache—slothful—though now wholly obsolete, did much duty formerly. The adjective luskish and the substantive luskishness are often found. In law lache still survives as a term for culpable remissness. Our ‘Laches,’ ‘Lashes,’ ‘Laskies,’ and ‘Lusks,’ I am afraid, therefore, come of but an indifferent ancestry. Nor can anything better be said of our ‘Paillards’ or ‘Pallards.’ We still talk of a ‘pallet,’ the old ‘paillet,’ or straw bed, from ‘paille,’ chaff. A paillard was a cant term for a lie-a-bed.
By ‘ribaldry’ we always mean that which is foul-mouthed in expression. This was ever its implication. A ‘ribaud,’ or ‘ribaut’ belonged to the very scum of society. He was a man who hung on to the skirts of the nobility by doing all their more infamous work for them. Chaucer, wishing to comprise in one sentence the highest and the lowest grades of society, speaks in his ‘Romance’ of ‘king, knighte, or ribaude.’ ‘William le Ribote,’ therefore, mentioned in the ‘Chapter House Records of Westminster,’ or ‘William Ribaud’ (W. 15), could not have borne the best of characters, I am afraid. Although not quite so degraded in the world’s esteem as some of these last, we may here include our ‘Gedlings,’ reminiscences of the old ‘Gadling’ or ‘Gedling,’ one who gadded about from door to door to talk the gossip and scandal—the modern tattler, in fact. Our former ‘Gerard le Gaburs’ and ‘Stephen le Gabbers’ were equally talkative, if not such ramblers. As overmuch talking and jesting always beget a suspicion of overstretching the truth, so was it here. Wicklyffe uses ‘gabbing’ in the sense of lying, and an old poem says:—
Alle those false chapmen
The fiend them will habbe,
Bakeres and breowares
For alle men they gabbe.549
(A litel soth Sermun.)
In the North of England, I need scarcely add, this is the ordinary and colloquial sense of the term to the present day. The name of ‘John Totiller’ might well-nigh induce us to believe that teetotalism was not unknown by that name at this period, but it is not so. A ‘totiller’ was a ‘whisperer’ of secrets. In the ‘Legend of Good Women,’ one says to the God of Love—
In ye court is many a losengeour
And many a queinte totoler accusour.
The name of ‘Dera Gibelot’ or ‘John Gibbelote’550 reminds us of a term now obsolete, but once familiar as denoting a giddy, flighty girl.551 It is found in various forms, the commonest being that of ‘giglot.’552 Mr. Halliwell quotes an old proverb by way of adding a further variation—
The smaller pesun (peas), the more to pott,
The fayrer woman the more gylott.
I would, however, suggest this as but the pet form of ‘Gill,’ mentioned in my chapter on Christian names. In either case the meaning is the same. An often met with sobriquet in the fourteenth century is that of ‘Robert le Burgulion,’ or ‘Geoffrey le Burgillon,’ the old term for a braggart. It is now, however, wholly obsolete. ‘Robert le Lewed,’ or ‘William le Lewed,’ is also lost to our directories, and certainly would be an unpleasant appellation in the nineteenth century. Its general meaning four hundred years ago, however, was its more literal one, that of simplicity or ignorance. It is connected with our word ‘lay’ as opposed to ‘cleric,’ and arose at a time when knowledge was all but entirely in the hands of the clergy. Thus in the ‘Pardoner’s Tale’ it is said—
Lewed people loven tales olde,
Such things can they wel report and holde.
Such a name then, we may trust, implied nothing beyond a lack of knowledge in respect of its possessor. ‘William Milksop,’ or ‘Thomas Milkesop,’ or ‘Maurice Ducedame’ were but types of a class of dandified and effeminate beings who have ever existed, but even their names would be more acceptable than those which fell to ‘Robert le Sot,’ or ‘Maurice Druncard,’ or ‘Jakes Drynk-ale,’553 or ‘Geoffrey Dringkedregges,’554 or ‘Thomas Sourale.’555 It is evident that there were those who were disposed to follow the dictate of at least one portion of the old rhyme—
Walke groundly, talke profoundly,
Drinke roundly, sleape soundly.
‘Ralph Sparewater,’ I fear, was a man of dirty habits, while ‘John Klenewater’ was a model of cleanliness.
But we have not yet done with sobriquets of an unpleasant nature. Men of miserly and penurious habits seem to have flourished in plentiful force in olden days as well as the present. ‘Irenpurse’ figures several times in early rolls, and would be a strong, if somewhat rough, sarcasm against the besetting weakness of its first possessor. ‘Lovegold’ is equally explicable. ‘Pennifather,’ however, was the favourite title of such. An old couplet says—
The liberall doth spend his pelfe,
The pennyfather wastes himself.
It is found in the various forms of ‘Penifader,’ ‘Panyfader,’ and ‘Penifadir,’ in the fourteenth century. ‘Pennypurse,’556 ‘Halfpeny,’ and ‘Turnpeny’557 are met with at the same time, and somewhat later on ‘Thickpeny.’ ‘Broadpeny,’ ‘Manypenny,’ now corrupted into ‘Moneypeny,’ ‘Winpeny,’ now also found as ‘Wimpenny,’ ‘Pinchpenny,’ with its more directly Norman ‘Pinsemaille,’ and ‘Kachepeny,’ with its equally foreign ‘Cache-maille,’ are all also of the same early date, and with one or two exceptions are to be met with to this very day.558 It is a true criticism which, as is noticed by Archbishop Trench, has marked the miserly as indeed the emphatically miserable soul. ‘Whirlepeny’ is now extinct, but alone, so far as my researches go, existed formerly to remind men that the spendthrift character is equally subversive of the true basis of human happiness.559 Several names combined with ‘peck’ and ‘pick,’ as ‘Peckcheese,’ ‘Peckbean,’ ‘Peckweather,’ and ‘Pickbone,’ seem to be expressive of the gluttonous habits of the possessors, but it is possible they may be but the moral antecedents of our modern ‘Pecksniffs’!560
Our ‘Starks’ and ‘Starkies,’ if not ‘Starkmans,’ represent a word which can hardly be said to exist in our vocabulary, since it now but survives in certain phrases, such as ‘stark-mad,’ or ‘stark-naked.’ We should never say a man was ‘stark’ simply. A forcible word, it once expressed the rude untutored nature of anything. Thus, on account of his unbridled passion, the Bastard King is termed in the Saxon chronicle ‘a stark man, and very savage,’ while just before he is asserted to be ‘stark beyond all bounds to them who withsaid his will.’ Thus it will be akin to such names as ‘Walter le Wyld,’561 or ‘Warin Cruel,’ or ‘Ralph le Ferce,’ or ‘John le Savage,’ or ‘William le Salvage,’ or ‘Adelmya le Sauvage,’ or ‘William Ramage.’ Chaucer speaks somewhere of a ‘ramage goat.’
III — Miscellaneous
(1) Nicknames From the Animal and Vegetable Kingdom
Mr. Lower, in his ‘English Surnames,’ gives a long list of names from what he calls vegetable productions, but, although he does not say so, I am confident he would be the first to admit that the great majority of those which he instances should really be set among our local surnames. For example, he includes ‘Cherry,’ ‘Broome,’ ‘Bramble,’ ‘Ferne,’ ‘Holyoak,’ ‘Peach,’ ‘Rowntree,’ in this category. While ‘Cherry’ and ‘Peach’ might possibly be sobriquets of complexion, the manifest course is to look upon them as of local origin. So persuaded am I of this, after a long perusal of mediæval records, that I shall notice but some half-dozen names from the vegetable kingdom, and only those of which I can find memorials in past registers. This is a place which of all others might well tempt me to run riot among our directories, and collect a curious list from our present existing nomenclature; but I would even here persistently adhere to the idea with which I set out, and to which I have mainly been true, viz., to instance names about which I can speak somewhat positively, because I have found them imbedded in the nomenclature of the period in which surnames had their rise. ‘Blanchflower,’ ‘Lilywhite,’ and ‘Boutflower’ I have already dealt with. ‘Robert Daisye’ occurs in the ‘Trial of Dame Alice Kyteler’ (Cam. Soc.), ‘Nicholas Pescodde’ in the ‘Proceedings in Chancery’ (Elizabeth), ‘Godfrey Gingivre’ (Ginger) in the ‘Writs of Parliament,’562 ‘Geoffrey Peppercorn’ in the Hundred Rolls, ‘Robert Primerose’ and ‘Sara Garlek’ in the ‘History of Norfolk’ (Blomefield), and ‘Roger Pluckerose’ and ‘John Pullrose’ in a Sussex Roll of 1296.563 I doubt whether more than one or two of these can be said rightly to belong to the nickname class. As sign-names—for I feel assured they thus arose—they will have their place in our second chapter on ‘Local Names.’564
But when we come to the Animal Kingdom we are on clearer and more definite ground. The local class must undoubtedly embrace a large number of these names, as such an entry as ‘William atte Roebuck’ (M.), or ‘Richard de la Vache’ (A.), or ‘Thomas atte Ram’ (N.), or ‘John de la Roe’ (O.), or ‘Gilbert de la Hegle’ (A.), or ‘Hugh atte Cokke’ (B.), or ‘Walter de Whitehorse’ (C.), or ‘John atte Gote’ (M.) dearly testifies. But on the other hand we find a class, set by which the last is insignificant—a class which has its own entries—‘William le Got’ (A.), ‘Katerina le Cok’ (B.), ‘Alicia le Ro’ (A.), ‘Philip la Vache’ (C.), or ‘Joachim le Ram’ (T.), corresponding to the former, only differing in that such entries are vastly more numerous and embrace a wider range, taking in, in fact, the whole genus and species that belong alike to ‘the fish of the sea, the fowl of the air, the cattle, and every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.’ In dealing with this large and varied assortment of sobriquets, I would say then that, where there is no proof positive to the contrary, the course is to survey a name of this class as referable to three distinct origins, and I put them in the following order of probability:—1. A nickname taken from that animal whose generally understood habits seemed to bear affinity to those of the nominee. 2. A local sign-name. 3. An heraldic device. With these preliminary statements, let us proceed.
As we find all the moral qualities seized upon to give individuality to the possessors, so, too, we find the names of animals whose peculiarities gave pretext for the sobriquets pressed into the service of our nomenclature. In our earlier Pagan history it had been the wont of Saxon fathers to style their children by the names of such beasts as from their nobler qualities it was hoped the little one would one day copy. The same fashion still existed, only that the nickname as the exponent of popular feeling was really more or less appropriate to him who was made to bear it. In the latter case, too, it was the ridiculous aspects of character that were most eagerly caught at. Our general vocabulary is not without traces of this custom. We still term a shrewish wife a vixen, i.e. a she fox. Men of a vile, mean character are rascals, i.e. lean deer; and rough boys are urchins,565 a corruption of the old herison, or hedgehog. Applying this to surnames, we come first to
(a) Beasts.—Our ‘Bests,’ when not local, are but the ‘Richard le Bestes’ or ‘Henry le Bestes’ of the thirteenth century. Their superlative excellence is therefore imaginary, I fear, but we may be permitted to hope that they are what they appear. ‘Edith Beest,’ in the sixteenth century, is nearer our modern form. Our ‘Oliphants,’ ‘Olivants,’ and ‘Ollivants’ represent but the elephant, and owe their origin, doubtless, to the huge and ungainly proportions of some early ancestor. In the ‘Romance of Alexander’ is a strange description of the fabled monoceros, which would seem to have been a kind of potpourri of all other beasts, for besides a tail like a hog, tusks like a dog, and a head like a hart’s—
Made is his cors
After the forme of a hors,
Fete after olifant, certis.566
This sobriquet, in a day when size and strength went for much, does not seem to have been thought objectionable, for its owners have left issue enough to prevent its ever falling into abeyance.567 Thus we see we may meet with elephants every day in our streets without going to the Zoological Gardens for them. Our ‘Lions’ (‘Richard Lion,’ V. 2) and ‘Lyons,’ when not local,568 speak doubtless for the brave heart of some early progenitor. Our ‘Bears,’ relics of ‘Richard le Bere’ (A.) or ‘Lawrence le Bere’ (M.), as a reflection upon a surly temper, would be less complimentary, or perhaps the original nominee wore his hair shaggy and long. A fierce disposition would meet with rebuke or praise, as the case might be, in such a sobriquet as ‘John Lepard,’ or ‘Tiger,’ now all but obsolete, saving for our striped and liveried youths; or ‘Wolf’ (‘Elena le Wolfe,’ A., ‘Philip le Wolf,’ M.), with its more Norman ‘Lupe’569 (‘Robert le Lupe,’ B.), or ‘Lovel’570 or ‘Love’ (‘Robert le Love,’ A.), the latter being in flat contradiction to the usually ascribed instincts of the animal. Timidity or reserve, or perchance fleetness of foot, would soon find itself exalted in ‘Geoffrey le Hare,’ ‘Reginalde le Raye,’ ‘Walter le Buk,’ ‘Hobart le Hart,’ ‘Dorothie le Stagge,’ ‘Henry Rascal,’571 ‘William le Do,’ or ‘Alicia le Ro,’ the ancestors of our ‘Hares,’ ‘Rays,’ or ‘Wrays,’ ‘Bucks,’572 ‘Harts,’ ‘Stags,’ ‘Does,’ or ‘Roes,’ of legal notoriety, and ‘Prickets.’ That old spoiler of hen-roosts, the polecat, has left us in ‘Fitch’ and ‘Fitchett’ no very happy relationship of ideas. Craftiness would be very properly stigmatised in ‘Henry le Fox’ or ‘John le Tod,’ and a ‘John le Renaud’ occurring in the Parliamentary Rolls reminds us that some of our ‘Renauds’ and ‘Renards’ may be more closely associated with this wily denizen of our forest fastnesses than they think. The badger has originated ‘Walter le Broc’ or ‘Henry le Brok’ (now Brock); the beaver ‘John le Bever,’ or ‘John le Bevere’ (now Beaver).573 The rabbit gave us ‘Henry Cony’ and ‘John Conay;’ the weasel ‘Mathew le Martun’ (now Marten); the mole ‘Walter le Want’ (now Want); the nimble haunter of our forest boughs ‘Thomas le Squyrelle’ (now Squirrell), and the otter ‘Alan Otere,’ or ‘Edward Oter’ (now Otter).
Nor must we forget the farmyard and its accessories, which, as we might readily presume, are well represented. ‘Alice le Buie,’ or ‘William le Buie’ (now Bull), is a sobriquet which has now such a firm place as symbolic of our national character that we need not show to what peculiarities of temperament they owed their name. ‘Simon le Steer,’ ‘Peter le Vache,’ with its Saxon ‘Thomas le Cu’ or ‘Ralph le Cou,’ ‘Richard le Calf’574 ‘Godwin le Bulloc,’ ‘Peter le Stot,’ ‘Roger le Colt,’ are all of common occurrence, and still abide with us. ‘Roger le Mule,’ as representative of obstinacy, we might have suspected, would have become early obsolete, but it still survives.575 ‘Robert le Veyle,’ or ‘William le Veel,’ now written ‘Veale,’ ‘Philip le Mutton,’ and ‘John le Bœuf,’ or ‘Robert le Bef,’576 carry us back to the day when these several terms denoted the living animal. Thus, with respect to the last, Burton in his ‘Anatomy,’ translating Plautus, says—
Like other cooks I do not supper dress,
That put whole meadows into a platter,
And make no better of their guests than beeves,
With herbs and grass to feed them fatter.—p. 69.
Alongside our ‘Muttons’ we may place our ‘William le Lambs’ and ‘Richard le Lombs,’577 and if they were remarkable for their meek disposition, playfulness, I doubt not, was equally characteristic of our ‘Reginald Kidds’ and ‘Cheevers,’ relics of the old ‘Henry le Chivre’ or goat. I am afraid the connexion of ideas that gave rise to such sobriquets as were represented by ‘Alice le Hog,’ ‘John le Bacun,’578 ‘William le Gryse,’ ‘Gilbert Galt,’ ‘Walter Pigge,’579 ‘Roger Sugge,’ ‘Richard le Bor’ (Boar), ‘Richard Wildbore,’ ‘John Pork,’ and ‘John Purcell’ (little porker, that is), is not of the pleasantest—terms, too, as they are, all familiar to our directories to this present day. Several of these words are now colloquially obsolete. ‘Grice,’ I fancy, is one such. We still speak of the ‘griskin.’ Locally it comes in such names as ‘Grisdale’ and ‘Griswood.’ As a sobriquet of the animal, it was quite familiar in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Piers Plowman says—
Cokes and their knaves
Cryden, ‘Hote pies, hote!
Goode gees and grys!’
‘Sug’ was provincial for ‘sow,’ and comes in the local ‘Sugden’ mentioned in my first chapter. Richard III. was sometimes styled the ‘Boar’ or ‘Hog.’ It was in allusion to this that the rhyme got abroad—
The Rat, the Cat, and Lovel the Dog,
Rule all England under the Hog.
The first two referred of course to Ratcliffe and Catesby. But the mention of these reminds us of our household pets and indoor foes. ‘Elias le Cat,’ or ‘Adam le Kat,’ or ‘Milo le Chat’ still boasts descendants, and the same can be said for ‘Nicholas Dogge,’ or ‘Eborard le Kenn,’ or ‘Thomas le Chen.’ The usual forms are Catt, Ken, and Kenn. In our kennel we still preserve a memorial of this Norman-introduced word. Our ‘Hunds’ and ‘Hounds’ are but the old ‘Gilbert le Hund’ or ‘William le Hund,’ and carry us to the forest and the chase. The especial bugbear of cat and dog alike found remembrance in our early ‘Nicholas le Rat’ and ‘Walter le Rat,’ or ‘Ralph Ratun,’580 and in ‘John le Mous,’ ‘Hugh le Mus,’ or ‘Richard Mowse.’ ‘Ratton,’ ‘Ratt,’ and ‘Mowse’ still exist. With one more name we conclude. Through Spain and the Moors of Barbary monkeys were early introduced for the amusement of the English people. In the ‘Miller’s Tale’ it is said of Alison—
And thus she maketh Absolom her ape,
And all his earnest turneth to a gape.581
that is, she was wont to make a fool of him. The sobriquet is found in such an entry as ‘John le Ape,’ registered in the Hundred Rolls, or ‘John Jackanapes,’ in the Parliamentary Writs.
(b) Birds.—The surname that represents the genus is ‘Bird,’ the name being met with as ‘John le Bryd’ or ‘David le Brid,’ a pronunciation still in vogue in many parts of England. Falconry has given us many sobriquets of this class. Accustomed as our fathers were to seeing the fierce and eager instincts of the bird, to nickname a man of rapacious and grasping habits by such a term as ‘John le Kyte,’ or ‘William le Hawk,’ or ‘Richard le Falcon,’ would be the most natural thing in the world. And just as the difference in breed and disposition in these birds themselves gave rise to separate definitions, so an imagined resemblance to these distinct qualities must have originated such different names as ‘Muskett,’ ‘Buzzard,’ ‘Puttock,’582 ‘Goshawk,’ ‘Tassell,’ ‘Gleed,’ or ‘Glide,’583 and ‘Sparrowhawk,’ or ‘Spark,’ or ‘Sparke,’ as it is now more generally spelt. So early as Chaucer, however, this last was written ‘Spar-hawk,’584 and that once gained the further contraction in our nomenclature became inevitable. Thus was it with other birds. Did a man develop such propensities as showiness, then he was nicknamed ‘Jay;’ if pride, ‘Peacock’ or ‘Pocock,’ as it was once pronounced; if guile, ‘Rook;’ if pertness, ‘Pye,’ with its diminutive ‘Pyet’ or ‘Pyett;’ if garrulity, ‘Parrott’ or ‘Parratt;’ if he was a votary of song he was styled ‘Nightingale’ or ‘Lark,’ or in its more antique dress ‘Laverock’ or ‘Woodlark,’ or ‘Finch,’ or ‘Bulfinch,’ or ‘Goldfinch,’ or ‘Chaffinch,’ or ‘Spink,’ or ‘Goldspink,’ or ‘Thrush,’ or ‘Thrussel,’ or ‘Cuckoo.’ If jauntiness displayed itself in his actions he was nicknamed ‘Cock’ or ‘Cockerell’ or ‘Chauntecler;’ if homeliness, ‘Sparrow;’ if tenderness, ‘Pigeon’ or ‘Dove,’ and so on with our ‘Swans,’ ‘Herons,’ ‘Cootes,’ ‘Gulls,’ ‘Storks,’ ‘Ravens,’ ‘Crows,’ ‘Speights,’ ‘Cranes,’ ‘Capons,’ ‘Henns,’ ‘Chickens,’585 ‘Ducks,’ ‘Duckerells,’ ‘Drakes,’ ‘Sheldrakes’ or ‘Sheldricks,’ ‘Wildgooses,’ ‘Mallards’ (i.e. wild duck), ‘Gooses’ or ‘Goss’s,’586 ‘Greygooses,’ ‘Goslings,’587 ‘Ganders,’ ‘Woodcocks,’ ‘Partridges,’ ‘Partricks,’ ‘Pheasants,’ or ‘Fesants,’ as once spelt, and ‘Blackbirds.’588 These are names ornithologically familiar to us. Many a pretty name, however, once on the common tongue but now obsolete, or well-nigh so, still abides in our surnames. Thus our ‘Popjays’ still preserve the remembrance of the once common popinjay or parrot, ‘the popinjay, full of delicasy,’ as Chaucer styles her.589 In ‘Culver’ or ringdove we are reminded of the pathetic story of Philomine, where the same writer likens her to
the lamb that of the wolf is bitten,
Or as the culver, that of the eagle is smitten.590
Our ‘Ruddocks’ or ‘Ruddicks’ (‘Ralph Ruddoc,’ A.), again, are but the old ruddock or robin-redbreast, ‘the tame ruddock,’ as he is termed in the ‘Assembly of Fowls.’ The hedge-sparrow still lives represented by our ‘Pinnocks’ or ‘Pinnicks’ ‘John Pynnock’ (G.), ‘Richard Pinnoc’ (A.)—
Thus in the pinnick’s nest the cuckoo lays,
Then, easy as a Frenchman, takes her flight.
So an old writer says. Our ‘Turtles’ (‘Roger Turtle’ D.) are but pleasant memorials of the bird that has been so long emblematic of constancy, the dove; our ‘Challenders,’ if not a corruption of ‘Callender,’ are representatives of the chelaunder or goldfinch, so often mentioned by early poets; and in our ‘Woodalls,’ ‘Woodales,’ and ‘Woodwalls,’ not to say some of our ‘Woodwells,’ we are but reminded of the woodwale, the early woodpecker. Our ‘Rains’ are but the old ‘Robert or William le Rain,’ another term for the same;591 while our ‘Stars’ and ‘Stares’ (‘Robert Stare,’ A.) carry us back to the day when the starling was so familiarly styled. In the ‘Assembly of Fowls’ the author speaks of—
The false lapwing, full of trecherie,
The stare, that the counsaile can beurie.
In the ‘Romance of the Rose’ a list of birds is given embracing many of the above—
For there was many a bird singing,
Throughout the yard all thringing,
In many places were nightingales,
Alpes, finches, and wodewales,
That in their sweet song delighten,
In thilke (such) places as they habiten.
There might men see many flocks
of turtles, and laverocks,
Chelaundres fele (many) saw I there,
That very nigh forsongen were (tired of singing).
Every one of these birds so styled is still to be met with in our directories, for even the alpe or bull-finch is not absent. It is only in the investigation of subjects like this we see how great are the changes that creep over a people’s language. What a list of words is this, which if uttered now would fall dead and meaningless upon the ear of the listener, and yet they were once familiar as household words.
(c) Fish.—‘John le Fysche’ or ‘William Fyske’ have left descendants enough to prove that many a Fish can live out of water, although much has been advanced to the contrary. At a time when the peasants lived daily on the products of the inland streams and sandy sea-banks, and when the supply was infinitely more plentiful than it is now, we can easily perceive the naturalness of the sobriquets that belong to this class. Terms that are all but obsolete to us now, were household words then. Hence it is that we find our directories of to-day abounding with such entries as ‘Whale,’592 ‘Shark,’ ‘Dolphin,’ Herring,’593 ‘Codde,’ ‘Codling,’ ‘Salmon,’594 ‘Trout,’ ‘Mackarel,’ ‘Grayling,’ ‘Smelt,’ ‘Pilchard,’ ‘Whiting,’ ‘Turbot,’595 ‘Keeling,’ ‘Crabbe,’ ‘Chubb,’596 ‘Tench,’597 ‘Pike,’ and ‘Pickerel.’ ‘John Sturgeon’ is mentioned by Foxe in his ‘Martyrology,’ under date 1541, and still remains. The Hundred Rolls contain a ‘William Lampreye.’ ‘Barnacle’ is still common, and ‘Mussell’ and ‘Spratt’598 are not unknown. But perhaps the most curious of these early nicknames are those belonging to ‘Matilda le Welke’ and ‘William Welkeshorn.’ Probably they were notorious for a weakness towards that mollusk, which is still eaten in large quantities in some parts of England.
(d) Insects and Reptiles.—This is not a large class. The Hundred Rolls furnish us with a ‘Magge Flie’ and an ‘Oda599 Flie.’ The same records contain a ‘Margaret Gnatte’ and a ‘William Gnatte.’ ‘Baldewin Bugg’ (B.) and ‘Bate Bugge’ (A.) are also found, but although the question has been asked—
If a party had a voice,
What mortal would be a Bugg by choice,
I fancy the cognomen is local, one of the endless forms, like ‘Brough,’ ‘Burgh,’ ‘Burkes,’ of the old ‘Borough.’ ‘Roger le Waps’600 reminds us of the still existing provincialism for wasp, and ‘William Snake’ or ‘John Frog’ would be as little acceptable.601 The smallest and most repulsive insect we have, the parasitic louse, is found in ‘Nicholas le Lus’ (J.), but our directories have now got rid of it—an example that might be followed with no small advantage in other quarters.
(2) Descriptive Compounds Affixed as Nicknames
But in an age like that of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries we cannot imagine that society would be merely required to come under a verbal castigation such as, after all, did nothing more than strike off the names of the animals that entered into Noah’s Ark. To call a man a ‘wolf’ or a ‘bull’ or a ‘grayling’ or a ‘salmon’ or a ‘peacock,’ after all, is not very dreadful. Terms of a more compound form, sobriquets more minutely anatomical, are also met with, the unpleasantness of which is proved by the fact of so few of them having come down to us, while not a small portion, as not fit for ears polite, must be altogether left in their obscurity. There are others, however, of which none need to be ashamed. For instance, the kingly denomination of ‘Quer-de-lyun’ (‘Ralph Querdelyun,’ T., ‘William Querdelion,’ X.),602 found in several lists, could not but be agreeable, while ‘Dan-de-lyun,’ or ‘lion-toothed’ (‘William Daundelyun,’ B.), would be in thorough harmony with the spirit of the age. ‘Colfox’ (‘Thomas Colfox,’ Z.), still existing, would be less pleasant. The term ‘fox’ is supposed in itself to be synonymous with deceit, but the intensive ‘col-fox’ or ‘deceitful-fox’ must have implied duplicity indeed! Chaucer, in his ‘Nunn’s Story,’ speaks of
A col fox full of sleigh iniquity.
‘Clenehog’ (‘William Clenehog,’ A.) or ‘Clenegrise’ (‘Roger Clenegrise,’ A.) would seem to be a sarcasm upon the dirty habits of its early owner, while ‘Piggesflesh’ (‘Reyner Piggesflesh,’ M.) or Hoggesflesh’ (‘Margery Hoggesflesh,’ Z.)603 is as obviously intended to be a reflection upon the general appearance. ‘Herring’ (‘Robert Heryng,’ A.), already mentioned, is not objectionable, but ‘Goodherring’ (‘Adam Godharing,’ A.) and ‘Redherring’604 (‘William Redhering,’ M.) are. ‘Fish’ one would not for a moment find fault with, but few young ladies, I imagine, would be found to face at the matrimonial altar a ‘John Pourfishe’ (M.). Objection, too, if not by the fair inamorata, yet by her parents, would be raised, I suspect, to an alliance with a ‘Roger Feldog,’ or ‘Thomas Catsnose,’ or ‘William Cocksbrain,’ or ‘Robert Calvesmaw,’ or ‘Peter Buckeskyn,’ or ‘Arnulph Dogmaw,’ or ‘Henry Crowfoot,’ or ‘Matthew Goosebeak,’ or ‘John Bullhead.’605 Talking of the last, however, it is interesting to notice how much the bull has entered into compounds of this kind. Thus we light upon such names as ‘Walter Oyl-de-beof’ or ‘William Oldbeof,’ that is, bull-eyed; ‘Ralph Front-de-bœuf,’ that is, bull-faced; ‘John Cors-de-bœuf’ or ‘Thomas Cordebeofe,’ that is, bull-bodied; ‘John Queer-de-bœf,’ that is, bull-hearted, or ‘Amice le Wildebœf’ or ‘Nicholas Waldebeof,’ seemingly like ‘Wild-bore,’ referring to some wild untutored characteristics of the bearer. In all these the genius of the age is quite apparent, and probably not one was looked upon as otherwise than complimentary. ‘William Scorchebouef’ was evidently some unlucky young kitchener who had mismanaged his duties as spit-turner, but it betrays the process by which the term ‘bœuf’ has come into its present position of verbal usefulness. In this light ‘Cors-de-bœuf’ also is further interesting as reminding us that there was a time when ‘corpse’ did not necessarily imply the inanimate frame. ‘Behold, they were all dead corpses,’ found in our Authorized Version, was no tautology, it would appear, even in the seventeenth century. Thus do changes creep over the lives of words as well as men.
We might fill a book with these descriptive compounds—surnames so whimsical, so absurdly humorous that they manifestly could not live. For instance, we meet in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries with such a sobriquet as ‘William Hondeshakere,’ which no doubt spoke for the hearty goodwill of its easy possessor. ‘Geoffry Chese-and-brede’ seems to refer to the peculiar taste of its owner, while ‘Arnold Scutelmouth’ would be a sarcasm on personal capacity for such things. ‘Alan Swet-in-bedde’ would not be an acceptable cognomen, nor ‘William Badneighbour,’ nor ‘Thomas Two-year-olde,’ nor ‘Geoffrey Dringkedregges,’ nor ‘Anna Hellicate’ (hell-cat).606 ‘Alice Gude-ale-house’ was evidently a homely landlady, who kept her tavern in good repute by assiduous attention and good-humoured ways. ‘William Kepegest’ would seem to bespeak the kindly cheer of more private hospitality, while ‘John Drybread,’ if not stingy, was doubtless crusty. ‘John Ratelle-bagge,’ or ‘John Leve-to-day,’ or ‘Serle Go-to-Kirk,’ or ‘Thomas Horsenail,’ or ‘John Lightharness,’ or ‘Richard Myldew,’ or ‘John Buckleboots,’ or ‘Edward Tortoise-shell,’607 or ‘John Hornbuckle,’ while conveying no slight upon the character, would be obnoxious enough as surnames. Our ‘Doolittles,’ ‘Lovejoys,’ ‘Scattergoods,’ ‘Makepeaces,’ and ‘Hatewrongs’ belong to this same category. A large and varied assortment of this class will be found in the notes to this chapter, and to them I refer the reader. They are of a class which were especially popular at the time of which we are writing. Many of them are used as expletives in the railing poets and writers of the period. For instance, the author of ‘Cocke Lorelle’s Bote’ speaks of—
‘Slingthrift Fleshmonger,’
Also ‘Fabian Flatterer,’ and ‘Cicely Claterer,’
With ‘Adam Averus,’ flail-swinger,
And ‘Francis Flaproach,’...
With ‘Giles Unreste,’ mayor of Newgate,
And ‘Lewis Unlusty, the leesing-monger.’
Here is ‘Will Wily,’ the mill-pecker (thief),
And ‘Patrick Peevish,’ hairbeater,
With ‘Davy Drawlatch’608 of Rockingham.
Also ‘Hick Crookneck,’ the rope-maker,
And ‘Steven Measellmouth,’ mussell-taker,
With ‘Gogle-eyed Thompson,’ shepster of Lynn.
The above selection of fancy names will give us a fair idea of the kind of sobriquet which went down with the lower orders during the Angevine and Plantagenet dynasties.
But the largest branch of descriptive compounds is yet to be mentioned. We find not a few instances where names of simple relationship or occupation or office, or even, we may add, of patronymic character, having become compounded with adjectives expressive of the feeling of those with whom the nominee had to deal, naturally place themselves under this same category. These, so far as they have come down to us, are generally of a favourable, or at least harmless, description. Thus, to notice Christian names first, this has especially been the case with ‘John.’ Probably as this sobriquet grew into favour the practice became the means of distinguishing between several of the same title. Thus, as I hinted in my previous chapter, if John were doughty, he became ‘Prujean,’609 that is, preux-jean; if fat, ‘Grosjean;’ if young, ‘Youngjohn;’610 if clownish, ‘Hobjohn;’ if big, ‘Micklejohn;’ if small, ‘Littlejohn,’611 or ‘Petitjean;’612 if of a sunburnt countenance, ‘Brownjohn;’613 and if comely or well proportioned, ‘Properjohn;’ thus preserving a once familiar sense of ‘proper,’ which we may meet with in such an olden phrase as a ‘proper knight,’ or in our present Authorized Scripture Version, where our translators make St. Paul speak of Moses in his infancy as a ‘proper child.’614 Lastly, we have the estimable ‘Bonjohn,’ the origin, I doubt not, of ‘Bunyon’ and ‘Bunyan,’ the familiar bearer of the latter form of which we shall all doubtless admit to be well worthy his name. It is happy chance that when we speak, as we often do, of ‘good John Bunyan,’ we simply give him a reduplication of that very title which none more richly merits than he. In 1310 there was a ‘Jon Bonjon’ in London, and still earlier than this a ‘Durand le Bon Johan’ figures in the Hundred Rolls.615 Several others we may mention, more Saxon in their character, and all long obsolete, save one. Indeed, I doubt not they died with their original possessors. These are ‘Robert Good-robert’ (P.) and ‘Richard White-richard’ (J.), ‘William Holy-peter’ (A.) ‘William Jolif-will’ (A.) (i.e. ‘Jolly-Will’),616 and ‘William Prout-pierre’ (M.). ‘William Goodhugh’ (M.), however, has contrived to hold his own, unless, as Mr. Lower thinks, it belongs not to this category, but one I have already surveyed, that regarding complexion. Its early form of ‘Godhewe’ would seem perhaps to favour his notion. Names of this class, however, are rare. When we come to occupation the instances are much more common. Thus if we have ‘Husband,’ who doubtless owes his origin to his economical rather than his marital position, we have, besides, ‘Younghusband’—in his day, I dare say, a somewhat precocious youth—the now obsolete ‘Goodhusband;’ if ‘Skinner,’ then ‘Langskinner;’ if ‘Wright,’ then ‘Longwright’ or ‘Longus-Faber,’ as it is Latinized in our rolls; if ‘Smith,’ then ‘Gros-smith,’ that is ‘big-smith,’ or ‘Wild-smith’ or ‘Youngsmith;’ or if ‘Groom,’ then ‘Good-groom’617 and ’Old-groom.’ If we have ‘Swain,’ we had also ‘Goodswain,’ or ‘Brownswain,’ or ‘Madswain,’ or ‘Summerswain,’ or ‘Cuteswain,’ or ‘Colswain’ (that is, deceitful swain, or ‘Littleswain;’ if ‘King,’618 then ‘Littleking,’ ‘Coyking,’ ‘Brownking,’ ‘Whiteking,’ and ‘Redking;’ if ‘Hine,’ or ‘Hyne,’ or ‘Hind,’ a peasant somewhat similar to Swain, then also ‘Goodhyne;’ if ‘Bond,’ then ‘Youngbond;’ if ‘Knave’ or servant, then ‘Smartknave,’ ‘Whiteknave,’ ‘Brownknave,’ and ‘Goodknave,’ the latter a strange compound to modern ears;619 if ‘Clerk,’ then ‘Bonclerk,’ ‘Beauclerk,’ ‘Goodclerk,’ ‘Mauclerk,’620 and ‘Redclerk;’621 if ‘Page,’ then ‘Littlepage’622 and ‘Smallpage,’ and to put it here for convenience, ‘Lawpage;’ if ‘Wayt,’ a ‘watchman,’ then ‘Smartwayt,’ ‘Stertwait’ (active, on the alert), and ‘Goodwayt;’ if ‘Man’ or ‘Mann,’ a relic of the old ‘le Man’ or menial, then also ‘Goodman,’ a term, however, which became early used of any honest householder.623 ‘Le Mayster’ or ‘Master’ was common enough, but I am sorry to say I have not lighted upon a ‘Goodmayster’ as yet. Thus ‘Fellowe’ also, or ‘Fellowes,’ as we now have it, is met by ‘Goodfellow’ and ‘Longfellow;’ ‘Child’ by ‘Goodchild’ and the obsolete ‘Evilchild;’ ‘Son’ by ‘Littleson’ and ‘Fairson;’ ‘Sire’ by ‘Littlesire’ and ‘Fairsire;’ ‘Nurse’ by ‘Goodnurse,’ and ‘Fowl’ by ‘Goodfowl.’ Norman equivalents for these, however, were not wanting. ‘Goodfellow’ had its mate in ‘Boncompagnon,’ ‘Goodbody’ in ‘Bonecors,’ ‘Goodwait’ in ‘Bonserjeant,’ ‘Goodclerk’624 in ‘Bonclerk,’ and ‘Goodman’625 in ‘Bonhomme’ (our present ‘Bonham’)626 and ‘Prudhomme’ or ‘Pridham.’ ‘Evilchild’ found itself face to face with ‘Malenfant,’ ‘Littlesire’ with ‘Petitsire,’ ‘Goodchild’ with ‘Bonyfant,’ ‘Bonenfant,’ or ‘Bullivant,’ as we now have it, and ‘Godson’ or ‘Goodson,’ it may be, with ‘Bonfils’ or ‘Boffill.’ We have still ‘Clerk,’ but ‘Bonclerke,’ if not ‘Beauclerk,’ is obsolete; ‘Squier,’ but ‘Bonsquier’ has disappeared; ‘Chevalier’ also thrives, while ‘Bonchevalier’ is extinct. In some cases the simple and the compound forms are both wanting. It is so with our former ‘Vadlets’ and ‘Bonvalets,’ our ‘Vileins,’ ‘Beauvileyns,’ and ‘Mangevileyns’ (scabby), our ‘Queynts’ and ‘Bonqueynts,’ and our ‘Aventures’ and ‘Bonaventures,’ the latter sobriquet evidently given to one who had acquitted himself well in some mediæval joust or tournament. It is found in several records. Piers Plowman uses the term simple, when he speaks of Faith crying—
As dooth an heraud of armes,
When aventrous cometh to justes.
‘Christian,’ which may be but the proper name, still lives, though ‘Bonchristien’ is gone; and ‘Count,’ too, lingers, ‘Boncount’ being obsolete. Sometimes, strangely enough, the French idiomatic compounds got literally translated into Saxon, resulting in terms of utterly different meaning. Thus, as I have already shown, ‘Beaupere’ met face to face with ‘Fairsire,’ ‘Beaufiz’627 with ‘Fairchild,’ and ‘Beaufrere’ with ‘Fairbrother.’ But this bare and naked translation into the vernacular seems to have been a general practice. The Norman ‘Petyclerk,’ for instance, was speedily met by ‘Smalwritere,’ ‘Blauncpayne’ by ‘Whitbred,’ and ‘Handsomebody,’ over which much obscurity has lingered, is, I have no hesitation in asserting, a directly Saxonised form of ‘Gentilcors,’ a name not unfrequently met with at this date.
Many of the names I have mentioned above, however, are, strange to say, being reproduced in the present day after a curious fashion. The multiplication of forenames has been the primary cause of this.628 In many cases these, by becoming as it were adjectives to the surname, form sobriquets no less ludicrous and striking than those which for that very reason so soon became obsolete. Thus such a combination as ‘Choice Pickrell’ is exactly equivalent to ‘Goodherring’ just alluded to. ‘Arch Bishop’ restores the archiepiscopal name which fell into abeyance in the twelfth century; while such other names as ‘Perfect Sparrow,’ ‘Savage Bear,’629 ‘Royal King,’ ‘Sing Song,’ ‘Ivory Mallet,’630 ‘More Fortune,’631 ‘Christmas Day,’ ‘Paschal Lamb,’ ‘River Jordan,’632 or ‘Pine Coffin,’633 may be met by designations equally absurd, if less travestied. These, of course, must be attributed to mere eccentricity on the part of parents, rather than to accident. Combinations of this kind, however, have arisen of late years through another circumstance. It not unfrequently occurs that through certain circumstances two family names are united. Thus we have such conjunctions as ‘Burdett-Coutts’ or ‘Sclater-Booth.’ Speaking of these reminds me of a story I have heard anent a combination of this kind. A certain gentleman, it is said, of the name of Colley, in bequeathing in his will a considerable estate to a friend of the name of ‘Mellon,’ made it the condition of his acceptance that the legatee added his benefactor’s name to his own. His friend had no objection to the property, but when he found that his acquiescence in the terms imposed would make him ‘Mellon-Colley’ to the end of his days, he considered the matter afresh and declined the offer.
(3) Nicknames From Oaths, Exclamations, Street-cries, and Mottoes
(a) Oaths.—A remarkable, though not a very large, batch of surnames is to be referred to perhaps the most peculiar characteristic of all—that of the use of profane, or at least idle oaths. The prevalence of imprecations in mediæval times was simply extraordinary.634 If the writings of that period bear but the faintest comparison to the talk of men, their conversation must have been strangely seasoned. For instance, in the ‘Canterbury Tales’ we find introduced without the slightest ceremony such oaths as ‘for Cristes passion,’ ‘by Goddes saule,’ ‘for Cristes saule,’ ‘by Goddes dignitee,’ ‘Goddes banes,’635 ‘Cristes pein,’ ‘Goddes love,’ ‘Goddes hate,’ ‘Cristes foot,’ ‘God me save,’ and the more simple ‘By-God,’ or ‘Parde’ or ‘Pardieu.’ That they are mostly meaningless is their chief characteristic. ‘John Pardieu’ in the Rolls of Parliament will represent our many ‘Pardews,’ ‘Pardows,’ ‘Pardoes,’ and ‘Pardies;’ and although I have given a different origin in my second chapter,636 I may mention ‘Alina le Bigod’ (J.), or ‘John le Bygot’ (M.). ‘Barbara Godselve’637 (F.F.), ‘Richard Godesname’ (X.), ‘Richard Godbeare’ (Z.), (now ‘Godbeer,’ ‘Godbehere,’ and ‘Goodbeer’), ‘Roger Godblod’ (E.) (God’s blood), ‘Alicia Godbodi’ (A.) (God’s body), seem all to be representative of familiar imprecations.
(b) Mottoes.—In many cases we can scarcely doubt that ensigncy has had something to do with the origin of our surnames. Edward III. at a tournament had his trappings embroidered with the couplet—
Hay, hay, the white swan,
By God’s soule I am thy man.
‘Godsol’ and ‘Godsoule’ formerly existed, and may have so risen. Among other names of this class may be mentioned ‘Janett God-send-us’638 (W. 13), ‘Roger Deus-salvet-dominas,’639 ‘John God-me-fetch,’ ‘John Dieu-te-ayde,’ ‘John Flourdieu,’ ‘Henry Grace-dieu,’640 ‘Henry Warde-dieu,’ ‘John Depart-dieu,’ and ‘John Angel-dieu.’641 From the escutcheons of their wearers these would easily pass on to the men themselves who first bore them as surnames.
(c) Exclamations.—‘Peter Damegod’ (M.) and ‘John Domegode’ (O.), meaning literally ‘Lord God,’ represent a once favourite expletive.642 We are here reminded that there was a time when ‘Dame,’ from dominus and domina alike, was applied to either sex. One or two exclamations of less objectionable import are also to be met with. ‘William Godthanke’ (A.) seems but a reversal of our ‘Thank God,’ while ‘Ralph Godisped’ (A.), fossilised in our ‘Goodspeeds,’ may represent ‘God-speed-thee.’643 ‘Richard Farewel’ (A.), ‘Simon Welfare’ (A.), ‘John Welcome’ (Z.Z.), ‘William Adieu’ (M.), would possess affixes readily given for their kindly and oft utterance. Our ‘Rummelows,’ ‘Rummileys,’ and ‘Rumbelows,’ without dispute, represent but the old well-known cry of ‘Rombylow’ or ‘Rummylow,’ the sailor’s ‘Heave-ho’ of later days. In the ’Squire of Low Degree’ it is said—
Your mariners shall synge arow,
Hey how, and rumbylow.
The ancestor of those who bear the name was doubtless a sailor at some period of his career.644
(d) Street-cries.—The calls of hawkers could not of course escape the good-humoured raillery of our forefathers. We find ‘Robert Freshfissh’ (X.) to have been a fishmonger, and ‘John Freshfisch’ is set down in the Rolls of Parliament. About the same time ‘Margaret Fressheharyng’ dwelt in the Metropolis. ‘Agnes Godefouele’ (A.) and ‘Basilia Godfowele’ (A.) were manifestly poultry-women, for even the most respectable occupations were then, as I have already shown, itinerant. But perhaps the most curious thing of all is to notice the price-calls that have found themselves inscribed in our registers. The larger sums will have a different origin, but I place them here for convenience sake. The Writs of Parliament give us a ‘Robert Peny;’ the ‘Wills and Inventories’ (Surt. Soc.), a ‘Thomas Fourpeni;’ the Hundred Rolls, a ‘John Fivepeni;’ the ‘Cal. Rot. Originalium,’ a ‘Thomas Sexpenne;’ the ‘Yorkshire Wills and Inventories’ (Surt. Soc.), a ‘John Ninepennies;’ and the Hundred Rolls, a ‘Fulco Twelpenes.’645 ‘James Fyppound’ (Fivepound) is mentioned in ‘Materials for History of Henry VII.’ So early as 1342 we find ‘John Twenti-mark’ to have been Rector of Risingham (Norfolk, 1, 64); while ‘William Hunderpound’ was Mayor of Lynn Regis in 1417 (do. viii. 532). This latter may be a translation of a Norman sobriquet, for ‘Grace Centlivre’ and ‘Joseph Centlivre’ are set down in a Surrey register of the same date. (‘Hist. and Ant. Survey,’ Index.) In both cases, I doubt not, the nickname was acquired from the peculiarity of the source whence the income was derived. ‘Centlivre’ existed in the eighteenth century at least, for it was Mrs. Centlivre who wrote the ‘Platonic Lady,’ which was issued in 1707. ‘Thomas Thousandpound,’ the last of this class, appears in the ‘Wardrobe Accounts’ (Edward I.), and concludes a list as strange as the most ardent ‘lover of the curious’ could desire.646
Looking back, however, upon these earlier names, how many varied and conflicting qualities of the human heart do they all reflect, some honourable, some harmlessly innocent, the greater part, I fear, discreditable. Of all how much might be said, but I refrain, lest I be liable to a charge of acting contrary to the spirit of the kindly old adage, ‘de mortuis nil nisi bonum’—‘speak no evil of the dead.’ Thus telltale, however, are our surnames, and if it be no pleasant task to expose the weaknesses and the frailties of them whose bones have so long ere this crumbled into decay, still we may comfort ourselves with the remembrance that their names, with many others I could have adduced had space permitted, offer no kind of reflection upon their present possessors. It is not unseldom we see the bearer of a worthy name dragging the same through the dust and mire of an ignoble life. It is amongst these names of somewhat unsavoury origin we oftentimes meet with the best, and the truest, and the noblest of our fellows.
The Alphabetical Letters appended to the Names furnished in the Index refer to the Documents in the List here cited.
Hundred Rolls. A.
Calendarium Inquisitionum Post Mortem. B.
Calendarium Rotulorum Patentium in Turri Londinensi. C.
Calendarium Rotulorum Chartarum. D.
Rotuli Litterarum Clausarum in Turri Londonensi. E.
Valor Ecclesiasticus. F.
Calendarium Rotulorum Originalium. G.
Rolls of Parliament. H.
Placitorum in Dom. Cap. Westminster. J.
Testa de Neville, sive Liber Feodorum. K.
Calendarium Genealogicum. L.
Writs of Parliament. M.
Munimenta Gildhallæ Londoniensis. N.
Issues of the Exchequer. O.
Issue Roll. P.
History and Antiquities of York (Pub. 1785). Q.
Placita de Quo Warranto. R.
Guild of St. George, Norwich. S.
Excerpta e Rotulis Finium in Turri Londinensi. T.
V. Camden Society Publications.
V. 1. Bury St. Edmunds Wills.
V. 2. Dingley’s History from Marble.
V. 3. Trevelyan Papers.
V. 4. Camden Miscellany.
V. 5. Smith’s Obituary.
V. 6. Diary of John Rous.
V. 7. Liber Famelicus—Sir James Whitelock.
V. 8. Chronicon Petroburgense.
V. 9. Proceedings against Dame Alice Kyteler.
V. 10. Autobiography of Sir John Bramston.
V. 11. Doomsday Book of St. Paul’s.
V. 12. Ricart’s Kalendar.
V. 13. Proceedings in Kent.
V. 14. Rutland Papers.
W. Surtees’ Society Publications.
W. 1. Coldingham Priory.
W. 2. Testamenta Ebor.
W. 3. Durham Household Book.
W. 4. Kirkby Inquest.
W. 5. Knight’s Fees.
W. 6. Nom. Villarum.
W. 7. Illustrative Documents.
W. 8. Priory of Finchdale.
W. 9. Fabric Rolls of York Minister, and Wills and Inventories.
W. 10. Hexham Priory.
W. 11. Corpus Christi Guild.
W. 12. Hist. Dunelm.
W. 13. Barnes’ Eccles. Proceedings.
W. 14. Visitation of Yorkshire.
W. 15. Feodarum Prior. Dunelm.
W. 16. Depositions from York Castle.
W. 17. Memorials of Fountains Abbey.
W. 18. Depositions and Eccles. Proceedings.
W. 19. Liber Vitæ.
W. 20. Remains of Dean Granville.
Memorials of London (Riley). X.
Proceedings and Ordinances: Privy Council. Y.
Calendar of Proceedings in Chancery (Elizabeth). Z.
The Publications of the Chetham Society. A A.
Wills and Inventories (Lancashire). A A. 1.
Three Lancashire Documents. A A. 2.
Lancashire Chauntries. A A. 3.
Birch Chapel. A A. 4.
Rotuli Normanniæ in Turri Londinensi. B B.
Documents Illustrative of English History. D D.
Index to ‘Originalia et Memoranda.’ E E.
History of Norfolk (Blomefield). F F.
Fines (Richard I.). G G.
History of Hertfordshire (Clutterbuck). H H.
Rotuli Curiæ Regis. M M.
Calendar and Inventories of the Treasury. N N.
History of Leicestershire (Nicholl’s). P P.
Register—St. James, Piccadilly. Q Q.
State Paper office. R R.
Patent Rolls. R R. 1.
Compoti. R R. 2.
Issue Rolls. R R. 3.
History of Durham (Surtees). S S.
State Papers (Domestic). T T.
Materials for History of Reign of Henry VII. X X. 1.
Registrum Abbatiæ Johannis Whethamstede. X X. 2.
Letters from Northern Registers. X X. 3.
Calendar to Pleadings (Elizabeth). Z Z.
Footnotes
1. Proofs of the ignorance of authors and authoresses in regard to surnames might be cited to any extent. The novel of Aurora Floyd is a case in point. When we read the account there given of the ancestry of the heroine, her Scotch descent, &c., and then remember that Floyd is but a corruption (through the difficulty of pronunciation) of the Welsh Lloyd, we may well be pardoned a smile. Walter Scott would never have so committed himself.
2. The following extract will show how patronymic surnames changed at first with each successive generation:—‘Dispensation for Richard Johnson, son of John Richardson, of Fishlake, and Evott daug: of Robert Palmer, who have married, although related in the fourth degree. Issued from Rome by Francis, Cardinal of St. Susanna, 30th March, 13th Boniface IX. (1402).’ Test. Ebor. vol. iii. p. 318.
3. Thus we find in the Manchester Directory for 1861, ‘Napoleon Bonaparte Sutton, tripe-seller,’ and ‘Napoleon Stott, skewer-maker.’ Born, doubtless, during the earlier years of the present century, their parents have thus stamped upon their lives the impress of that fearful interest which the name of Napoleon then excited.
4. ‘Ithell,’ though now unknown, was once a familiar Christian name. ‘Evan ap Ithell,’ Z.; Jevan ap Ithell, Z.; Ann Ithell, H.H.; Ithell Wynn, A.A.I. ‘Bethell’ as a surname is still sufficiently common in the Principality to keep up a remembrance of the fact.
5. ‘Howel’ or ‘Hoel’ was at one time a favourite Welsh baptismal name. We have a ‘Howel le Waleys,’ that is, ‘Howel the Welshman,’ or, as we should now say, ‘Howell Wallace,’ mentioned in the Parliamentary writs of 1313. As I shall show by-and-by, our ‘Powells’ may in some cases, at least, be of more English origin.
6. ‘Ot’ and ‘et’ sometimes became ‘elot’ and ‘elet’—‘Robert Richelot’ (w. 15) (from Richard); Crestolot de Eratis (d. d.) (from Christian); ‘Walter Hughelot’ (A.); ‘John Huelot’ (A.) (from Hugh); Constance Hobelot (A.) (from Hobbe); ‘Hamelet de la Burste’ (Cal. and Inv. of Treasury); ‘Richard son of Hamelot’ (A.A. 2) (from Hamon). ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Hewlett’ are the commonest representatives of this class in our existing nomenclature. As a diminutive suffix ‘let’ is found in such words as ‘leaflet,’ ‘bracelet,’ ‘hamlet,’ or ‘ringlet.’
7. The French have, among others of this class, ‘Guyon,’ ‘Philipon,’ ‘Caton’ (Catharine), and ‘Louison.’ Sir Walter Scott, ever most accurate in his nomenclature, makes ‘Marthon’ to be domestic to Hameline de Croye (Quentin Durward). None of these reached England.
8. As a Christian name, however, fashion has again brought it into favour. While the memories that cluster round the name of the Iron Duke live, ‘Arthur’ can never die. Indeed, there are as many ‘Arthur-Wellesleys’ now as there were simple ‘Arthurs’ before the battle of Waterloo.
9. One John Godescalde was in 1298 forbidden to dwell in Oxford, owing to some riot between Town and Gown (Mun. Acad. Oxon. p. 67).
10. Herbert fil. Godman occurs in the ‘Cal. Rot. Pat. in Turri Londonensi.’ As a personal name it will belong to the same class as ‘Bateman,’ ‘Coleman,’ ‘Sweteman.’ Such entries as ‘Bateman Gille,’ ‘Thomas Batemanson,’ ‘Richard Batmonson,’ ‘Coleman le Hen,’ ‘Swetman fil. Edith,’ or ‘Sweteman Textor,’ are not unfrequent. ‘Tiddeman’ is of the same class. ‘Tydeman le Swarte’ and ‘Tiddeman Bokere’ both occur in the fourteenth century. All the above are firmly established as surnames. Having referred to ‘Sweetman,’ I may add that ‘Sweet’ itself was a baptismal name. ‘Swet le Bone’ (A), ‘John Swetson’ (‘State Papers, Domestic, 1619–1623’), ‘Adam Swetcoc’ (A).
11. While all these fuller forms are obsolete as surnames, we must not forget that most of them still exist curtailed. From early days ‘kettle’ in compounds became ‘kill’ or ‘kell.’ Thus ‘Thurkettle’ has left us ‘Thurkell’ and ‘Thurkill,’ already mentioned. ‘Osketyl’ has become ‘Oskell’ (‘Oskell Somenour,’ A. A. 3, vol. ii. p. 184). ‘Ulchetel’ was registered as ‘Ulkell’ and ‘Ulchel’ (W. 12, pp. 19, 20). Our ‘Arkells’ (Sim. fil. Arkill, E.), I doubt not, are corruptions of ‘Ansketyl’ or ‘Oscetyl’ or ‘Arketel.’
12. Matthew Paris, under date 1047, says of the bishopric of Selsey, ‘Defuncto Grinketel, Selesiensi pontifice, Hecca regis capellanus successit.’
13. In these same Writs occurs also the name of ‘Hugh Serelson.’ It is possible they are patronymics formed from ‘Cyril,’ but ‘Serle’ is the more probable parent.
14. The ‘Parliamentary Writs’ give us ‘Matthew Arnyet,’ the ‘Hundred Rolls,’ ‘Milisent Arnet.’
15. The ‘Hundred Rolls’ give us a pet addendum in the entry ‘Walter Auberkin.’
16. ‘Richard Amberson’ and ‘Robert Amberson’ may be seen in Barret’s History of Bristol (index). If not sprung from ‘Ambrose,’ they will be but a variation of ‘Emberson,’ and one more instance of the change of vowels referred to a few pages further on.
17. As with ‘Brice’ so it is to the Danes we owe many entries in our older records of which ‘Christian’ is the root. As a baptismal name it has always been most common in those parts of the eastern coast of England which have been brought into contact with Denmark by trade. Such names as ‘Joan Cristina,’ ‘Brice Cristian,’ or ‘John fil. Christian,’ frequently occur in mediæval registers. Their descendants are now found as ‘Christian,’ ‘Christy,’ and ‘Christison.’
18. As a proof that ‘Andrew’ and ‘Drew’ were distinct names, we may cite a fact recorded in Mr. Riley’s Memorials of London. In the year 1400, Drew Barentyn, twice Lord Mayor, came before the Council, asking to have his name ‘Drew’ set down in the list of those who possessed the freedom of the city, the scribe having entered it as ‘Andrew.’—pp. 554, 555.
19. ‘Warren le Latimer’ occurs in the ‘Rolls of Parliament,’ and ‘Fulco Fitz-Warren’ in the ‘Cal. Rot. Pat.’ in Turri Londonensi.
20. Ivo de Usegate was Bailiff of York in 1271. A few years after we find the Church of Askam Richard, close to the city, given by William de Archis and Ivetta his wife to the Nunnery of Monkton. In 1729 Alicia Iveson was buried in St. Martin’s, Micklegate. Thus in the one city we have memorials of the male, female, and hereditary use of this name.
21. ‘Guido,’ as ‘Wydo,’ is found in such entries as ‘Will. fil. Wydo’ (A), or ‘Will. fil. Wydonis’ (E), hence ‘Widowson’ and ‘Widdowson.’
22. Matthew Rowlett was Master of the Mint to Henry VIII. (See Pro. Ord. Privy Council.)
23. ‘Robinet of the Hill’ (Y). ‘Richard Robynet’ (H). ‘William Robertot’ (A).
24. We find the diminutive of this form in the name of ‘John Dobynette,’ who is mentioned in an inventory of goods, 1463. (Mun. Acad. Oxon.)
25. The diminutive ‘Richelot’ was by no means unknown in England. ‘Rikelot, tenant at Wickham’ (Domesday of St. Paul: Cam. Soc.), ‘Robert Richelot’ (Great Roll of the Pipe), ‘Robert Richelot’ (Feodarum Prioratus Dunelm. Sur. Soc.). ‘Rickett’ is probably a corruption of this.
26. The Norman ‘Diccon’ was corrupted into ‘Diggon.’ Spencer begins one of his pastorals thus, Welsh-like:—
‘Diggon Davie, I bid her “Good-day,”
Or Diggon her is, or I missay.’
‘Diccon’ was popular among the English peasantry from the twelfth to the eighteenth century.
27. A Richard Mileson entered C. C. Coll., Cam., in 1659 (Masters’ Hist. C.C. Coll.). Edward Myleson occurs in the Calendar to Pleadings (Elizabeth).
28. This rivalry seems to have made its mark upon the popular superstitions of our forefathers, for to this day the ignis fatuus of our marshy districts is called either ‘Will-a-Wisp’ or ‘Jack-a-Lanthorn.’ It at least reminds us that there was a day when every country clown was either ‘Jack’ or ‘Will.’
29. A certain John Willimote, a taverner, was sworn before the Chancellor of Oxford University to sell good beer, 1434. (Mun. Acad. Oxon., p. 595). ‘Williametta Cantatrix.’ (Rot. Lit. Clausarum).
30. A curious spelling of this is found in the entry, ‘Haunce, the Luter, ii.s—vi.d.’ (Privy Purse Exp. Princess Mary, p. 104.) ‘Hankin Booby’ was the common name for a clown. (Chappell’s English Songs, i. 73.)
‘Thus for her love and loss poor Hankin dies,
His amorous soul down flies.’
Musarum Deliciæ, 1655.
31. ‘Jack’ was really the nickname of Jacobus or James. Jacques was the common name among the peasantry of France, and as a national sobriquet was to that country what John was to England. On its introduction to ourselves, it seems to have been tacitly accepted as but a synonym for John, and has been used as such ever since.
32. ‘Sir John’ (‘sir’ being the simple old-fashioned title of respect, as in ‘sir knight,’ ‘sir king,’ &c.) was the familiar expression for a priest. Bishop Bale speaks of them as ‘babbling Sir Johns.’ Bradford, too, writing on the Mass, asks, ‘Who then, I say, will excuse these mass-gospellers’ consciences? Will the Queen’s highness? She shall then have more to do for herself than, without hearty and speedy repentance, she can ever be able to answer, though Peter, Paul, Mary, James, John, the Pope and all his prelates, take her part, with all the singing “Sir Johns” that ever were, are, and shall be.’—Bishop Bradford’s Works. Park. Soc., p. 391.
33. Thus Thomas Hale, a Puritan, writing in 1660 against May Games, has some verses in which the Maypole is represented as saying—
I have a mighty retinue,
The scum of all the raskall crew
Of fidlers, pedlers, jayle scaped slaves,
Of tinkers, turncoats, tospot knaves,
Of theeves and scape-thrifts many a one,
With bouncing Besse and jolly Jone.
34. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries a popular sobriquet for Jane or Joan was ‘Jugg.’ In Espinasses’ ‘Lancashire Worthies,’ Joan, the daughter of the celebrated Dr. Byrom, is familiarly styled ‘Jugg.’ A song of James I.’s reign says—
‘Joan, Siss, and Nell, shall all be ladified,
Instead of hay carts, in coaches shall ride.’
This is Mr. Chappell’s version. (English Songs, i. 327.) In Hunter’s ‘Hallamshire,’ it runs—
‘Jugg, Cis, and Nell, shall all be ladified.’
A ballad of Queen Anne’s reign represents John, the swain, as singing—
‘My heart and all’s at thy command,
And tho’ I’ve never a foot of land,
Yet six fat ewes and one milch cow,
I think, my Jug, is wealth enow.’
(Pills to Purge Melancholy, i. 293.)
35. In the Athenæ Oxoniensis the account of Martin Marprelate begins ‘John Penry, or Ap-Henry, that is, the son of Henry, better known by the name of Martin Marprelate, or Marpriest, &c.’ (Edit. 1813, vol. i. p. 591.)
36. An uncouth spelling of this is met with in the De Lacy Inquisition, where the entry occurs: ‘Henry, son of Holekyn, for 17½ acres of land, 4s. 6d. (Cheth. Soc., p. 12.) ‘King Hal’ is still familiar to us.
37. ‘To Garrett Jonson, for shoes, xs. xd.’ ‘To Garratt Jonson, for shoes, iiis.’ (Hous. Exp. Princess Eliz., Cam. Soc., pp. 16–18.)
38. ‘The account of Wattare Taylor and Wyllyam Partrynge, beynge churchewardens, in the xxxii. yere of the rayne of Kyng Henry the eighth, A.D. 1541.’ (Ludlow: Churchwardens’ Accounts, p. 6, Cam. Soc.)
39. Agnes Antonison is found in the ‘Proc. in Chancery.’ (Elizabeth.)
40. Fuller, in his Book of Worthies, writes:—‘St. Anthony is universally known for the patron of hogs, having a pig for his page in all pictures, though for what reason is unknown, except, because being a hermit, and having a well or hole digged in the earth, and having his general repast on roots, he and hogs did in some sort enter common both in their diet and lodging.’
41. Thus in the comedy of the ‘Western Lass’ (circa 1720) the heroine sings:—
‘Is Love finer than money,
Or can it be sweeter than honey?
I’m, poor girl, such a Toney,
Evads, that I cannot guess.’
42.
‘To our well-beloved servaunt, Antony Lambeson.’
(Grants of Ed. V. Cam. Soc.)
43. ‘Walter fil. Kitte.’ (Household Exp. Bishop Swinfield, p. 170, Cam. Soc.)
44. In the ‘Romaunt of the Rose,’ it is said—
‘For right no more than Gibbe, our cat,
That awaiteth mice and rattes to killen,
Ne entend I but to beguilen.’
In Peele’s ‘Edward I.,’ too, the Novice says to the Friar—
‘Now, Master, as I am true wag,
I will be neither late, nor lag,
But go and come with gossips cheer,
Ere Gib, our cat, can lick her ear.’
45. Hence the old term, ‘flibber-gib,’ or ‘flitter-gibbett,’ employed by Latimer, Burton, &c.; and later, by Walter Scott, for one of vile propensities.
46. A notorious rascal named ‘Gybby Selby’ is mentioned in ‘Calendar of State Papers’ for 1562. This accords with ‘Robert Gybbyson,’ found in the Corpus Christi Guild, York, a few years earlier.
47. ‘Item, payde to Hew Watson, for a bawdrike to the first belle, xd.’ (1546.) (Churchwardens’ Accounts at Ludlow, Camden Soc.) ‘Item, for markynge of Hew Davis’ pew, xiid.’ (1552.) (do.)
48. ‘Hugyn held of the same Earl an oxgang of land.’ (De Lacy Inquisit., Cheth. Soc., p. 6.) ‘Huckin’ seems to be a corruption of ‘Hughkin.’ ‘Hughkin Byston’ occurs in ‘Wills and Inventories.’ (Cheth. Soc., i. 142.)
49. A servant of King Henry III. was called by the simple and only name of ‘Pentecostes.’ (Inquisit. 13 Ed. I. No. 13.)
50. In the old published orders for the sheriff’s annual riding in the city of York, occurs this rule among others:—
‘Also, we command that no manner of men walk in the city, nor in the suburbs by night, without Torch before him, i.e. from Pasche to Michaelmas after ten of the clock, and from Michaelmas to Pasche after nine of the clock.’ These rules are thus prefaced. ‘The sheriffs, by the custom of the city, do ride to several parts thereof every year, betwixt Michaelmas and Midwinter, that is Yoole.’ (‘Hist. and Ant. York,’ vol. ii. p. 54.) Lancashire Easter-eggs are still called Pace-eggs.—The harder ‘Paske’ is found in Wicklyffe’s Version of Matt. xxvi. 1:—‘Whaune Jhesus hadde endid all these words he seide to his disciplis, ye weten that after tweyn days, Paske schal be made.’
51. Richard Domesdaye was Rector of Caldecote, Norfolk, in 1435. (Blomefield). This would be synonymous with ‘Termday.’
52. I see, however, from the Clerical Directory, that ‘Hindson’ is still in existence. A ‘Nicholas Hopperson’ is found in an old college register for 1582. (Hist. C. C. Coll. Cam.)
53. This name seems to have been very popular in Yorkshire. The instances given in the index are taken from papers relating to that county. Thus, again, we find it occurring in the marriage dispensations and licences of the period. ‘Dispensation from Selow for Richard de Akerode and Emmotte de Greenwood to marry, they being related in the fourth degree. Issued from Rome by Jordan Bishop of Alba, Apr. 27th, 3rd Eugenius IV.’ (1433.)—(Test. Ebor. vol. iii. p. 317); ‘Licence to the Vicar of Bradford to marry Roger Prestwick and Emmote Crossley. Banns thrice in one day.’ (1466.)—Do. p. 338.
54. We must not forget that at first a certain strangeness must have been felt in terming a woman by such a contradictory sobriquet as ‘Alice Johnson’ or ‘Parnel Simson.’ The feminine desinence was occasionally attempted. ‘Alicia Thomdoghter’ is found in the ‘Test. Ebor.’ (Sur. Soc.), ‘Isabella Peersdoghter’ and ‘Isolda Peersdoghter’ in Feod. Prior. Dunelm. (Sur. Soc.), and ‘Avice Mattewife’ in the ‘Issue Roll.’
55. ‘Item, I gyffe to Sicille Metcalfe, my sister’s doughter, 20s.’—‘Richmondshire Wills,’ p. 128.
56. A curious proof of the popularity of this pet form is met with in the Manor of ‘Ashton-under-Lyne’ (Ch. Soc.). In a community of some 20 or 25 families were the following:—‘Syssot, wife of Patrick,’ ‘Syssot, wife of Diccon Wilson,’ ‘Syssot, wife of Thomas the Cook,’ and ‘Syssot, wife of Jak of Barsley.’ Robert Syssottysone, Rector of Lecceworthe, 1478 (xx. 2, p. 187).
57. In the Corpus Christi Guild, York, 1433 (Sur. Soc.), Dyot is feminine. There is set down, ‘Robert Hayne et Dyot uxor.’ The patronymic ‘Diotson’ is found in the same register.
58. I say ‘perhaps’ because it may be but a corruption of the local Mapleston.
59. Sabyn or Sabina is frequently met with in the Hundred Rolls, as also Sybyl, referred to in the line before. A church at Rome was dedicated to a St. Sabina. Sybyl has bequeathed us ‘Sibson.’ In Cocke Lorelles Bote, one of the personages introduced is ‘Sybby Sole, mylke wyfe of Islynton.’
60. Jack and Jill seem ever to have been associated.
Will squabbled in a tavern very sore,
Because one brought a gill of wine no more;
Fill me a quart, quoth he, I’m called Will,
The proverbe is, each Jack shall have his Gill.
Satyricall Epigrams, 1619.
61. One can scarce forbear a smile to find in the ‘Townley Mysteries’ Noah’s wife, being pressed by her husband to enter the ark, replying—
Sir, for Jak nor for Gille
Wille I turne my face
Tille I have on this hille
Spun a space upon my rok (distaft).
62. We must not forget a once familiar corruption of the diminutive ‘Juliet’ into ‘Juet.’ Such entries as ‘Juetta fil. William’ (T.), ‘Richard fil. Juetta’ (T.), ‘William Juet’ (A.), or ‘Christopher Jewitson’ (Z.) are very common in the rolls of the xiiith and xivth centuries. This, in the North, was pronounced ‘Jowet,’ hence such entries as ‘Roger fil. Jowettæ’ (T.), ‘Jowet Barton’ (W. 11), and our surname ‘Jowett.’ ‘Jewitt’ also exists. One of this name was a jockey in the Derby of 1874.
63. So, also, in another place the same translator says: ‘The kyngdom of hevenes is lyk to a marchaunt that seekith gode margarites, but whanne he hath founde one precious margarite, he wente and solde alle thingis that he hadde and boughte it.’—Matt. xiii. 45, 46. Foxe too, in his ‘Book of Martyrs,’ quotes Isidorus to the effect that John the Apostle ‘turned certain pieces of wood into gold, and stones by the seaside into margarites.’—Vol. i. p. 28, edit. 1844.
64. ‘Barbara,’ as another Greek virgin-martyr, may be set beside Margaret. ‘Barbe’ was the French form. As we shall see by-and-by, our ‘Simbarbes’ and ‘Simbarbs’ hail from St. Barbe in Normandy. (Jordan de St. Barbe, M., Thomas Seyntbarbe, B.) The Hundred Rolls register three pet forms as surnames. ‘Bertol Babbe,’ ‘John Barbot,’ and ‘Nicholas Barbelot.’ The latter belongs to the class in elot of which ‘Robelot,’ ‘Hewelot’ and ‘Hamelot’ are instances.
65. The various forms of the diminutive are found as Christian names in the ‘Manor of Ashton-under-Lyne’ (Ch. Soc.), where occur such entries as ‘Magot, that was wife of Richard,’ ‘Merget of Staley,’ ‘Marget of Stanly,’ ‘Mergret, that was wife of Hobbe.’—pp. 96–7.
66. Since writing the above, I find several notices in Brand’s ‘Popular Antiquities’ which, while corroborating the view I have taken, shed a clearer light as to Maid Marian’s other sobriquet of ‘Malkin.’ In his allusion to the Morris dances, he quotes Beaumont and Fletcher as saying—
‘Put on the shape of order and humanity,
Or you must marry Malkin, the May-lady.’
Thus far, then, adding this to Mr. Halliwell’s quotation, we find that Maid Marian for several centuries was also ‘Malkin.’ But we must remember that it was during this very period that Robin Hood and his mistress were popularly believed to be Robert, Earl of Huntingdon, and Matilda, daughter of Lord Fitzwalter. That the May Queen, therefore, should be occasionally styled ‘Malkin’ will appear natural enough if we accept the view of the origin of that name as recorded in the text. But it may be asked how did she get the sobriquet of ‘Marian’? Perhaps Mr. Steevens’s quotation from an old play, ‘The Downfall of Rob. Earl of Huntingdon,’ dated 1401, may help us—
‘Next ’tis agreed (if thereto she agree)
That fair Matilda henceforth change her name;
And, while it is the chance of Robin Hoode
To live in Sherwodde a poor outlaw’s life,
She by Maid Marian’s name be called.’
67. It has been thought by some that our ‘Makins’ and ‘Makinsons’ are from Matthew, and not in any way connected with feminine nomenclature. This may be so, for although there is the entry ‘Maykina Parmunter’ in the Parliamentary Rolls, there is also ‘Maykinus Lappyng’ in Materials for Hist. Reign of Henry VII.
68. Thomas Mawdeson (F. F.) would lead one to suppose that Mawson was a direct corruption. It may be so, but ‘Maw’ itself seems to have existed as a pet form of Maud. In the ‘De Lacy Inquisition’ (1311) there occurs ‘Richard, son of Mawe, for 25 acres, etc.’—p. 10 (Chelt. Soc.)
69. The preceding paragraphs will sufficiently answer, I doubt not, the questions of correspondents in ‘Notes and Queries,’ as to whether we have any surnames derived from female baptismal names.
70. Elizabeth came into use too late to leave any mark upon our surnames. I have not come across, to the best of my remembrance, a single instance in any record earlier than the fifteenth century. ‘Bess,’ or ‘Bessie,’ was the first pet name formed from it, and this very probably began to grow into favour about the time of Elizabeth Woodville’s marriage. With the proud imperious Queen Bess, however, came in every conceivable variety that could be played upon the name, ‘Betsey,’ or ‘Betsy,’ ‘Betty,’ ‘Eliza,’ ‘Lizzie,’ and ‘Libbie’ being the favourites. The first ‘Bessie’ I find is that of ‘Bessye Tripps,’ 1558; the first ‘Betty’ being that of ‘Bettye Sheile,’ 1580, both being in a Newcastle will. Betty for two centuries was, perhaps, the form most in favour in aristocratic circles. How fickle is fashion! It is entirely tabooed there in the nineteenth.
71. Thomas and John Ibson are recorded in the ‘Corpus Christi Guild,’ York. (Surt. Soc.)
72. ‘George Hall et Ezota uxor ejus.’ York Guild (W. 11).
73. ‘Hamne, son of Adecok, held 29 acres.’ (De Lacy Inquis. p. 19, Ch. Soc.)
74. A proof that this origination is correct is found in a York will dated 1391. William de Kyrkby bequeaths articles to ‘Evæ uxori Johannes Parvying,’ and to ‘Willielmo de Rowlay,’ and then at the close he speaks of them as the aforementioned ‘Evotam et dictum Willielmum Rowlay.’ (Test. Elor., vol. i. p. 145–6. Surt. Soc.) An old London record, dated 1379, contains amongst other names those of ‘Custance Busshe’ and ‘Evota de Durham.’ The owner would be familiarly known among her acquaintances as ‘Evote’ or ‘Evette.’ (Memorials of London, p. 435.)
75. ‘Sacred to the memory of George Higgott,’ etc. Bonsall Church, Derbyshire. The more common form is ‘Higgett.’
76. ‘Dawe Robson, et Alicia uxor ejus.’ (W. 11.)
77. ‘Damsel’ is, of course, the diminutive of this. As a surname, it is found in the cases of ‘Simon Damesell’ (H.R.) and ‘Lawrence Damysell’ (W. 2). Other diminutives are met with in ‘Damietta Porcell’ (Hist. and Ant. Survey, index), ‘Damietta Avenell’ (F. F.), ‘Dametta fil. Morell’ (D. D.); hence as surnames our ‘Damets,’ ‘Dametts,’ ‘Damiots,’ and ‘Domitts.’ Entries like ‘Alice Damyett’ (Z), ‘Hugh Damiot’ (A), ‘Henry Damett’ (R), and ‘Henry Domet’ (A) are common.
78. Thomas Jordanson and Margery Jordanson occur in ‘Three Lancashire Documents’ (Cheth. Soc.).
79. ‘Jud,’ now the pet form of George, was formerly that of Jordan. In Gower’s lines, already quoted, it is said—
‘Hudde’ ferit, quem ‘Judde’ terit,
This reminds us of Aron Judde in the Hundred Rolls.
80. Dean Stanley seems to have the impression that this custom was confined to the pilgrims of Italy and Spain. In his Sinai and Palestine, page 333, he says: ‘The name of the river has in Italy and Spain, by a natural association, been turned into a common Christian name for children at the hour of baptism, which served to connect them with it.’ Judging by existing traces merely, I doubt whether the practice was quite so familiar in those countries as our own.
81. Ellicot seems to be a sort of feminine from Elisota. ‘Item do et lego Elisotæ domicellæ meæ 40s.’ (Will of William de Aldeburgh, 1391. Test. Ebor. vol. i. p. 151.) ‘Item, lego Elisotæ, uxori Ricardi Bustard unam vaccam et 10s.’ (Will of Patrick de Barton, 1391. Test. Ebor. vol. i. p. 155.)
82. We cannot but believe, however, that in many instances these two are but the offspring of ‘Alice,’ at this period one of the most popular of female names. Nor must we forget that Alison was itself a personal name, this being the Norman-French pet form of Alice, after the fashion of Marion, Louison, Beaton, etc. We are all acquainted with the ‘Alison’ of the ‘Canterbury Tales’—
‘This Alison answered: Who is there
That knocketh so? I warrant him a thefe.’
We meet with it again in an old Yorkshire will: ‘Item, to Symkyn, and Watkyn and Alison Meek, servandes of John of Bolton, to ilk on of yaim (them) 26s. 8d.’ (Test. Ebor., vol. iii p. 21. Surtees. Soc.) This name is found in our more formal registers in such an entry as ‘Alison Gelyot.’ (Parl. Rolls.) With regard to ‘Alis’ and ‘Elis,’ and ‘Alison’ and ‘Elison,’ recorded in the text, I may remind the reader that A and E were all but convertible letters with the Normans. One of their favourite female names, that of ‘Aveline,’ is found equally often as ‘Eveline,’ and in the form of ‘Evelyn’ it came down to the distinguished writer of the seventeenth century. ‘Arnold’ and ‘Ernold,’ ‘Americ’ and ‘Emeric,’ ‘Amelia’ and ‘Emilia,’ ‘Anota,’ and ‘Enota,’ and ‘Amelot’ and ‘Emelot’ are but other instances in point.
83. I am confirmed in my view by finding ‘Eliot’ registered as ‘Alyott.’ ‘Alyott de Symondston held half an oxgang of land, xixd.’ (De Lacy Inquisition (1311) Cheth. Soc.)
84. Perrin was formed from ‘Pierre,’ as ‘Huggin’ from Hugh or ‘Colin’ from Nicol. ‘The wife of Peryn’ is mentioned in ‘Manor of Ashton-under-Lyne’ (Ch. Soc.), p. 97. Perrot, or Parrot, represents also the French diminutive. ‘Alan Fitz-Pirot was a benefactor to St. Alban’s Monastery.’ (See Clutterbuck’s Hertford, Appendix, vol. i.) Prince Edward used to call the favourite, Piers Gaveston, by the familiar title of ‘Perot.’ (See Notes and Queries, vii. 280, and Lower on ‘Perrot.’)
85. There can be little doubt that ‘Potts’ comes from ‘Philpotts.’ We light upon a ‘Thomas Potkin’ (H.H.), proving that the abbreviation was in use.
86. A well-known Durham family of the name of ‘Burletson’ existed till the close of the eighteenth century in that county, and I am not sure that it does not still survive there. This, I doubt not, is but a corruption of ‘Bartelotson’ or ‘Bartleson.’ (Vide Surtees’ History of Durham, vol. i. p. 106.)
87. John Toloson was Sheriff of London in 1237.
88. The romance form, ‘Thomasine,’ existed till recent days, and was at the zenith of its popularity in Elizabeth’s reign. It is found in every register of that period. It is found as ‘Thomasing’ in Worksworth Ch. (Derbyshire): ‘Thomasing, filia William Sympson; buried Jan. 31, 1640.’
89. Thus Skelton, in Why come ye nat to Courte? says:—
‘Twit, Andrewe, twit, Scot,
Ge hame, ge scour thy pot.’
90. An instance of the diminutive is found in ‘Thomas Jemmitt,’ recorded in Clutterbuck’s Hertford, Index, vol. i.
91. Thus, in Why come ye nat to Courte? Skelton introduces such fictitious characters as—
‘Havell, and Harvy Hafter,
Jack Travell, and Cole Crafter.’
92. I have stated in p. 80 that Polson is nothing more than Paulson. A proof of this is found in the case of ‘Pol Withipol,’ who was summoned to attend the council to show why the statute passed 27th Henry VIII., for the making of broadcloths and kerseys, should not be repealed.—Proc. and Ord. Privy Council, vii. 156.
93. Capgrave, in his ‘Chronicles,’ under date 1394, says: ‘In this time the Lolardis set up scrowis at Westminster and at Poules.’
94. Lord Macaulay has noticed this. Speaking of the Old Testament, and in respect of the old Puritans, he says: ‘In such a history it was not difficult for fierce and gloomy spirits to find much that might be distorted to suit their wishes. The extreme Puritans, therefore, began to feel for the Old Testament a preference which, perhaps, they did not distinctly avow even to themselves, but which showed itself in all their sentiments and habits. They paid to the Hebrew language a respect which they refused to that tongue in which the discourses of Jesus and the epistles of Paul have come down to us. They baptized their children by the names, not of Christian saints, but of Hebrew patriarchs and warriors.’—(Hist. Eng. ch. 1.)
95. The most curious illustration of this class is that of ‘Melcom Groat’ (T.T.). ‘Milcom, the abomination of the children of Ammon.’—2 Kings, xxiii. 13. This is a conversion by baptism which would astonish equally Mr. Spurgeon and Dr. Pusey, I should imagine. A sister of Archbishop Leighton (son of a much persecuted Presbyterian minister) was ‘Sapphira.’
96. The same writer quotes from the register of Waldron the following curious entry:—‘Flie-fornication, the bace sonne of Catren Andrewes, bapt. ye 17th Desemb., 1609.’
97. ‘The Rev. Experience Mayhew, A.M., born Feb. 5th, 1673, died of an apoplexy, Nov. 9th, 1758.’ He was a missionary to Vineyard Island. (Vide ‘Pulpit,’ Dec. 6, 1827.)
98. ‘Here lieth the body of Abstinence Pougher, Esq., who died Sept. 5th, 1741, aged 62 years.’ (All Saints, Leicester. Vide Nicholls’ ‘Leicester.’)
99. Dr. Increase Mather was sent from New England to represent to James II. the gratitude of the Dissenters for a Toleration Act in 1685. (Vide Neales’ ‘Puritans,’ vol. v. p. 31.)
100. Rev. Accepted Frewen (died 1664) was Archbishop of York, and son of a Puritan minister in Sussex. (Vide Walker’s ‘Sufferings of Clergy,’ p. 38.) ‘Thankfull’ was his brother.
101. Mr. Livewell Sherwood, an alderman of Norwich, was put on a commission for sequestering Papists, in 1643. (Scobell’s ‘Orders of Parl.,’ p. 38.)
102. Faythful Fortescue. (‘Visitation of Yorkshire.’)
103. ‘Robert Thyer and Silence Leigh, married Dec. 9, 1741.’ (St. Ann’s, Manchester.) She was evidently the daughter of some old stickler for St. Paul’s doctrine—‘Let the women learn in silence, with all subjection’—or had he been himself a sufferer in his married life?
104. Charles Chauncy died in New England, 1671. He went from Hertfordshire, where the family had been settled for centuries. His children were ‘Isaac,’ ‘Ichabod,’ ‘Sarah,’ ‘Barnabas,’ ‘Elnathan,’ ‘Nathaniel,’ and ‘Israel.’ (Clutterbuck’s Hertford, vol. ii. 401.) Elnathan and Nathaniel are the same, with syllables reversed, like ‘Theodora’ and ‘Dorothea.’
105. ‘What is your name?’ then said Robin Hood,
‘Come, tell me, without any fail;’
‘By the faith of my body,’ then said the young man,
‘My name it is Allan a Dale.’
(Robin Hood, vol. ii, 261.)
106. One of the best puns extant is put to the credit of the Duke of Buckingham by Walter Scott, in his Peveril of the Peak. A Mrs. Cresswell, who had borne anything but a creditable character, bequeathed 10l. for a funeral sermon, in which nothing ill-natured was to be said of her. The duke wrote the following brief but pointed discourse: ‘All I shall say of her is this: she was born well, she married well, she lived well, and she died well; for she was born at “Shad-well,” married to “Cress-well,” lived at “Clerken-well,” and died in “Bride-well.”’
107. A will, dated 1553, among other bequests mentions: ‘Also to my nawnt Bygott an old angell of golde.’ The old angel, I need not say, refers to the coin, not the aunt. (Richmondshire Wills, p. 76.)
108. This name thus formed existed till the sixteenth century, at least, for ‘Christopher Nend’ is set down in the Corpus Christi Guild, York, 1530.
109. William de Okholt is found in the ‘Inquis. post mortem.’ This would be the original form.
110. ‘Emelina de Hogshawe’ (Inquis. post mortem). The name is now extinct, I believe.
111. Our ‘Deardens,’ however, may be in some cases but a corruption of the old ‘Derneden’—that is, the secret or secluded den. The Hundred Rolls give us, for instance, a ‘Ralph de Derneden.’ This word ‘dern’ was then in the most familiar use. Thus, in ‘Cursor Mundi,’ mention is made of ‘a mountain dern.’ Chaucer speaks of ‘derne love,’ and Piers Plowman of ‘derne usurie.’ Our ‘Durnfords’ but represent such an early entry as ‘Robert de Derneford;’ and of names now obsolete, we might instance ‘Dernehus,’ found also in the same roll as the above. Our ‘Dernes’ simple probably originated in the reticent and cautious disposition of their first ancestor. We may take this opportunity of noticing that ‘Dibdin’ is but ‘Deepden.’ One of our older rolls has a ‘Randolph de Depeden.’
112. By ‘ley’ I include both ‘lee,’ a shelter, and ‘lea,’ a pasture, for it is impossible to distinguish the two.
113. ‘John de Foxlee’ is mentioned. (Fines, Ric. I.)
114. More personal forms are found in ‘Henry Legeman’ (H.R.) and ‘Elias Layman’ (H.R.).
115. ‘William de Waldeslade’ occurs in the ‘Great Roll of the Pipe.’
116. Quite as good a story, and one less objectionable, is told of a Scottish Member of Parliament called Dunlop, who, at a large dinner party, having asserted that no one could make a pun upon his name, met with the instant reply from one of his guests, ‘Oh, yes, I can. Lop off the last syllable, and it is done.’
117. Thus in the ‘Proverbs of Hending,’ it is said: ‘When the coppe is fullest, then the hair is fairest.’
118. Talking of ‘Manners,’ however, we may add one on the celebrated Marquis of Granby:—
‘What conquest now will Britain boast,
Or where display her banners?
Alas! in Granby she has lost
True courage and good Manners.’
Puns of this nature may be met with frequently in books of the last century. Some complimentary verses to Dr. Gill, on account of a supposed victory in a public controversy, in 1727, in support of immersion at baptism, have a play of this kind at one part:—
‘Stennet,’ at first, his furious foe did meet,
Cleanly compelled him to a swift retreat;
Next powerful ‘Gale,’ by mighty blast made fall
The Church’s Dagon, the gigantic ‘Wall.’
(Gill’s Works, edit. 1839.)
119. Our now vulgar term ‘nob’ is a relic of this: ‘To hit a man on the nob’ is, in the north, to strike on the head. In the same districts a ‘nob’ is a rich man, one of family and influence.
120. Our Authorised Version has it, in Exodus xxv. 33: ‘Three bowls made like unto almonds, with a knop and flower in one branch.’ Here a bud is evidently intended. I need scarcely say that ‘knob’ is but the modern form of this word.
121. Besides ‘David atte Lawe’ (M.), we have the more personal ‘John Laweman’ (A.), or ‘Ranulf Laweman’ (A.). I doubt not these are also local, but one cannot help thinking of Chaucer’s ‘Sergeant of the Lawe, ware and wise.’
122. ‘William de Thornover’ and ‘Walter de Ashovere’ will represent compound forms.
123. Several local names of this class are found with ‘tree’ appended. Thus, ‘Thomas Appletree’ occurs in the Chancery suits of Elizabeth; and ‘Crabtree,’ ‘Plumtree,’ or ‘Plumptree,’ and ‘Rowntree’ (rowantree) may still be seen in our busiest streets.
124. In the ‘Townley Mysteries,’ Jacob, in his vision, is represented as saying:—
‘And now is here none othere gate
But Godes howse and hevens yate.’
125. I believe this word is not yet extinct in our North-country vocabulary. A Yorkshire inventory of goods, of 1540 or thereabouts, concludes by stating what moneys had been discovered in corners and out of the way places in the house: ‘In hernes, xiiis. iiiid.; item, x sylver spones, xxiiis.iiiid.’ (Richmondshire Wills, p. 41.)
126. Thus, also, is it with ‘Duffus.’ We find it in the Hundred Rolls set down in the same form as ‘de Duffus’ or ‘del Duffus,’ the more literal dress being met with in the London city archives in the name of ‘Thomas Dufhous.’ (Vide Riley’s Memorials of London, p. 555.) ‘Dove-house’ is the root.
127. ‘Agnes atte Punfald’ (A.) reminds us of our ‘Penfold,’ or ‘Pinfold,’ i.e. the pound.
128. ‘Ralph ate Med’ (A.). ‘Philip atte Medde’ (M). In the Hundred Rolls we find ‘William le Medward’ corresponding to ‘Hayward.’ (Vide p. 198.)
129. ‘His tenants, the graingers, are tyed to come themselves and winde the woll, they have a fatte weather and a fatte lambe killed, and a dinner provided for their paines.’ (Henry Best’s Farming Book (1641), p. 97.)
130. ‘John Grangeman’ occurs in the Proc. in Chancery. (Elizabeth.)
131. The coney, or rabbit, has made a mark upon our local nomenclature. An old form of the word was ‘coning’ or ‘conig.’ Thus Piers Plowman says:—
‘The while he caccheth conynges,
He coveiteth naught youre caroyne,
But feedeth hym all with venyson.’
Relics of this are found in such an entry as ‘Nicolas Conyng’ or ‘Peter Conyng,’ though now met with as ‘Coney.’ More local registrations, such as ‘Thomas de Conyton,’ ‘John de Conington,’ ‘John de Conyngsby,’ or ‘Walter de Cunnyngby,’ are still familiarised to us in ‘Conington’ and ‘Coningsby.’ The North English form was ‘Cuning,’ whence the ‘de Cunnyngby’ above instanced and our modern ‘Cunninghams.’
132. Vide Lower’s Surnames.
133. One of Edward III.’s regulations concerning the sale and purchase of wool speaks of ‘merchandises en Engleterre, Gales, ou Irlande;’ and further on more personally of ‘merchantz Engleis, Galeis, ou Irreis.’ (‘Stat. of Realm,’ vol. i. p. 334.) ‘Henry le Galeys,’ that is, as we should say now, ‘Henry Welsh,’ was Mayor of London in 1298.
134. In two different rolls we come across such cognomens as ‘Osbert Diabolus’ and ‘Roger le Diable.’ These are very likely but relics of early jesting upon the local forms mentioned in the text. A ‘Thomas de Devyle’ occurs in the Parliamentary Rolls, while in the Writs of the same we find a ‘John de Evylle.’ The former instance, again, may be but a sarcastic reduplication of the prefix. Dean Milman, quoting the author of Anglia Judaica, tells the following story, which shows how early this name had been so played upon:—‘A certain Jew travelling towards Shrewsbury in company with Richard Peche, Archdeacon of Malpas, in Cheshire, and a reverend dean whose name was “Deville,” was told amongst other things, by the former, that his “jurisdiction was so large as to reach from a place called Ill Street all along till they came to Malpas, and took in a wide circumference of country.” To which the infidel, being more witty than wise, immediately replied: “Say you so, sir? God grant me then a good deliverance! For it seems I am riding in a country where Sin (Péché) is the archdeacon, and the Devil himself the dean; where the entrance into the archdeaconry is in Ill Street, and the going from it Bad Steps (Malpas).”’ (History of Jews, vol. iii. p. 232.)
135. Hall, in his ‘Chronicles,’ speaks of the ‘Duke of Burgoyne.’ (F. xxiiii.)
136. ‘Champaigne,’ of course, means simply plain-land, and is found locally in various parts of Western Europe. I have included ‘Champion’ with the others because, though sometimes a combative sobriquet, it is as often found to be the mediæval form of the local term, ‘Champian’ and ‘Champain’ being other modes of spelling the same to be met with at this period. Thus we find such double entries as ‘Katerina le Champion’ and ‘Roger de Champion.’ Our present Authorised Version uses the word twice, as in Deut. xi. 30:—‘Are they not on the other side Jordan, by the way where the sun goeth down, in the land of the Canaanites, which dwell in the champaign over against Gilgal, beside the plains of Moreh?’ In the various translations of this passage almost all the above modes of spelling have been used.
137. Vide Words and Places, p. 436.
138. Camden says: ‘When Rollo had Normandy made over to him by Carolus Stultus, with his daughter Gisla, he would not submit to kiss Charles’s foot. And when his friends urged him by all means to kiss the king’s foot, in gratitude for so great a favour, he made answer in the English tongue, “Ne se, by God”—“Not so, by God”—upon which the king and his courtiers, deriding him, and corruptly repeating his answer, called him “Bigod,” from whence the Normans are to this day termed “Bigodi.”’
139. ‘John Spaynard’ is found in the Cal. Rot. Patentium; but the name is now obsolete, I imagine. ‘Peter Ispanier’ occurs in Clutterbuck’s Hertford (vol. i. Index).
140. Hence we find Skelton speaking in one of his poems of ‘That gentyll Jorge the Januay.’
141. Wicklyffe, in his preface to St. Paul’s Epistle to the ‘Romayns,’ quotes St. Jerome, and adds, ‘This saith Jerom in his prologe on this pistle to Romaynes.’
142. ‘Turk,’ we must not forget, was a general term for anyone of the Mahommedan faith. It still lingers in that sense in the Jews, Turks, Infidels, and Heretics of our Book of Common Prayer.
143. Thus we find Bishop Coverdale, in his Prologue to the New Testament, written 1535, saying, ‘And to help me herein I have had sundry translations, not only in Latin, but also of the Dutch interpreters, whom, because of their singular gifts and special diligence in the Bible, I have been the more glad to follow.’ (Park: Soc. p. 12.) Here he is manifestly speaking of the German reformers.
144. Andrew Borde speaks of ‘Flaunders, Hanway, and Braban, which be commodious and plentiful contreys.’—Boke of the Introduction of Knowledge.
145. An act passed in 1464 speaks of tonnage upon wines brought into England ‘by eny Marchaunt Alien, as well by the Marchauntes of Hance and of Almayn, as of eny other Marchauntes Alien.’ (Rot. Parl. Ed. IV.) Bishop Coverdale’s exposition of the 22nd Psalm is entitled, ‘A very excellent and swete exposition upon the two and twenty Psalme of David, called in Latyn, “Dominus regit me, et nihil.” Translated out of hye Almayne in to Englyshe by Myles Coverdale, 1537.’
146. The old form of ‘Dutch’ was ‘Douch’ or ‘Dowch.’ Skelton in his ‘Parrot’ says that, besides French, Lattyn, Ebrew,
‘With Douch, with Spanysh, my tong can agree.’
Our ‘Dowch’s’ and ‘Douch’s’ still preserve this spelling.
147. Our ‘Sarsons’ may be metronymically descended from ‘Sare’ or ‘Sarra.’ Skelton, in ‘Elynore Rummyng,’ speaks of
‘Dame Dorothe and lady Besse,
Dame Sare, our pryoresse.’
Nevertheless the same writer, in his ‘Poem against Garnesche,’ addresses a Saracen thus—
‘I say, ye solem Sarson, alle blake is your ble.’
Such entries as ‘William fil. Sare,’ ‘John Saresson,’ ‘Henry Sarrasin’ or ‘Peter Sarracen,’ show both origins to be possible.
148. This surname is found uncorrupted so late as 1626. A ‘John Jewry’ is set down in C. C. Coll. register for that date. (Vide Hist. C. C. Coll.) ‘Jewsbury’ has the same origin.
149. We must not forget, however, that the term ‘convert’ was applied to such as were lay members of a monastery. They were also working brethren, and thus were distinguished from the ‘monachi,’ or monks, who were wholly confined to religious offices and meditation. Thus, in the Life of Hugh of Lincoln, it is said, ‘Omnes interea Hugonem loquebantur sive prior, sive monachus, sive conversus, gratiam attolebat collatam Hugoni.’ (P. 46. See, also, Glossary to same.)
150. ‘Edward I. went so far as to give the Dominican Friars, at their particular request, power to constrain the Jews to listen to their preaching, and even proceeded to waive his claim for seven years to more than a moiety of the goods of the converts, the other half being given to maintain the poor in the Hospital for Converts.’ (Anglia Judaica, p. 231.)
151. Hall, in his Chronicles, spells it ‘Bullein.’ (F, xxiii.)
152. So late as the year 1562 we find, in an old inventory, mention made of ‘One bede coveringe of ariesworke, 8s. (Richmondshire Wills, p. 161.) ‘Grant to John Bakes, arras-maker, of the office of maker and mender of the King’s cloths and pieces of arras and tapestry, with 12d. a day for wages.’—Materials for History of Reign of Henry VII. (p. 259).
153. The Gildhallæ Munimenta mention, among other goods, ‘mercerie, canevas, conins-panes, fustiane, chalons, draps du Reynes, et draps de soye.’ (P. 231.) ‘Then take a towell of reynes of two yerdes and an halfe, and take the towell by ye endes double and laye it on the table.’—The Boke of Kervynge.
154. Foxe, in his Martyrology, speaks of the ‘Bishop of Mentz, of Cullen, and of Wormes.’ (Vol. i. p. 269, ed. 1844.)
155. The same remark will apply to our ‘Cardinals’ and ‘Pontifexs.’ ‘Cardinal’ is early found in ‘Walter Cardinall’ (P.), and ‘William Cardynall’ (Z.).
156. In one of our old mediæval ‘mysteries,’ representing the Nativity, one of the Magi says:—
Certain Balaam speakys of this thyng,
That of Jacob a star shall spryng,
That shall overcom kasar and kyng.
—Townley Mysteries.
157. Some of these forms may be but corruptions of ‘Casier,’ the old cheese-maker, found in the Writs of Parliament in such entries as ‘Michael le Casiere,’ or ‘Benedict le Casiere.’ ‘Cayser’ would require little variation to make it such.
158. ‘Ellice Prynce’ (Z.), ‘John le Cunte’ (E.), ‘Peter le Counte’ (G.), ‘John le Viscounte’ (B.).
159. ‘William le Duck’ (T.). Our ‘Ducks’ may thus be official rather than ornithological.
160. This word is found as a compound in ‘William Burtheyn,’ a Saxon title equivalent to the Norman ‘Chamberlain.’ The Prompt. Par. has ‘burmayden,’ i.e. ‘chamber-maid.’
161. In the Hundred Rolls we find a ‘Will Litleking.’ This sobriquet would readily attach to one such feast-appointed monarch whose diminutive stature would but impart additional merriment to the occasion. ‘Roger Wyteking’ (Testa de Neville) would owe his nom-de-plume to the dress he wore. It is to such an institution as this, again, we must ascribe the origin of such names as ‘Reginald Kyngessone,’ and perchance ‘Richard Kyngesman,’ both found in the Hundred Rolls also. That our ‘Kings’ are but a memorial of the festivities of our forefathers, is an undoubted fact. Every great nobleman had not merely a professed ‘fool,’ but at particular seasons a ‘King of Misrule.’ This ‘king’ initiated and conducted the merry doings of Christmastide, and was a proper officer. Besides the ‘King of Misrule,’ there were also the ‘King’ and ‘Queen’ of each village enthroned on May morning, who would be sure to keep their regal title through the year at least. Thus, among the twenty or thirty families that comprised the manor of Ashton-under-Lyne in 1422, we find ‘Hobbe the King,’ while a festival to be held there in that year is to be under the supervision of ‘Margaret, widow of Hobbe the King, Hobbe Adamson, Jenkin of the Wood, Robert Somayster (Sum-master), etc.’ (Three Lancashire Documents. Cheth. Soc.) ‘We, Adam Backhous and Harry Nycol, hath made account for the Kenggam (King-game), that same tym don William Kempe, Kenge, and Joan Whytebrede, Quen, and all costs deducted, 4l. 5s. 0d. (Ch.wardens’ Accounts: Kingston-upon-Thames. Lyson.)
162. The Ordinary was any ecclesiastic judge, the bishop himself, or his deputy. Thus, in a statute of Edward III., dated 1341, it is said:—‘Item, it is accorded and assented that the king and his heirs shal have the conisance of the usurers dead, and that the Ordinaries of Holy Church—les Ordinares de Seinte Esglise—have the conisance of usurers in life, as to them appertaineth, to make compulsion by the censures of Holy Church for the sin,’ &c. (Stat. Realm, vol. i. p. 296.) We still call the gaol chaplain the ordinary who conducts the condemned prisoner to the scaffold and reads the appointed service. The Parliamentary Writs give us a ‘John Ordeiner’ and a ‘Stephen Ordinar.’
163. The term ‘poll’ for the head, was far more familiar to our forefathers than to ourselves, as such terms as ‘poll-tax,’ or ‘going to the poll,’ testify. It was in great favour for nickname purposes, and beside the one in the text gave rise to such sobriquets as ‘ranti-poll,’ i.e., boisterous fellow; ‘doddy-poll,’ or ‘doddy-poul,’ as Latimer spells it, i.e., blockhead; or ‘withy-poll,’ i.e., spoiled one. The latter was a term of endearment, and as such would not be resented. Hence it is found twice as a surname:—‘Poule Withipoule, taillour’ (Rutland Papers, Cam. Soc.); ‘Edmund Withipole’ (State Papers, Domestic).
164. An old sermon, written in the fourteenth century, upon Matt. xxiv. 43, speaks of those whom we should now term as the ‘Devil and his angels’ as the ‘Devil and his kachereles.’
165. We have the surname of ‘Outlawe,’ or ‘Outlaghe,’ figuring in several rolls, and that of ‘Felon,’ or ‘le Felun,’ in at least one. These would be both unpleasant names to bear, perhaps more so then than now. A ‘felon’ was one who had, by court adjudicature, and for some specific crime, forfeited all his property, lands, or goods. An ‘outlaw’ was one who had been cited to judgment for some misdemeanour, and by refusing to make an appearance had put himself out of the protection of the law. Thus, Robin Hood was an outlaw. ‘Adam Outelaw’ signs ordinances of Guild of St. John Baptist, West Lynn, 1374. (English Gilds, p. 102.) This name, strange to say, lingered on to within the last two hundred years, a ‘Thomas Outlaw’ being found in a college register for 1674. (Vide Hist. C. C. Coll. Cam.) In 1661, too, ‘Ralph Outlaw’ was rector of Necton in Norfolk. (Hist. Norf., vi. 55.)
166. ‘On the 30th ult., at Greenheys, Manchester, formerly of Oxton, Cheshire, Sarah, widow of R. Bellringer, of Pendleton, aged 82.’ (Manchester Courier, May 2, 1874.) This is the only instance of this name I have hitherto met with.
167. ‘Thomas le Await’ occurs in the Rot. Curiæ Regis. This reminds us that our ‘waiter’ was once prefixed with ‘a’ likewise—‘xii. esquiers awaiters.’ (Ord. Household of Duke of Clarence, 1493.)
168. ‘And to meyris or presidentis and to kyngis ye shall be led for me in witnessyng to them.’—Matt x. 18 (Wicklyffe). In a Petition to Parliament, dated 1461, the following varieties of spelling occur within the space of thirty lines:—‘Maier,’ ‘Mayer,’ ‘Mayre,’and ‘Maire.’ (Rot. Parl. Ed. IV.)
169. I suspect the difference between the ‘claviger’ and the ‘clavier’ lay in that the former bore the key, and perhaps even the mace, in all the many public processions and pageants of the day.
170. The old and general custom of electing a boy-bishop on St. Nicholas’ Day gave their title, doubtless, to most of our ‘bishops.’ The familiarity of the ceremony is fully attested by Brand. To him I refer the reader. The boy thus elevated by his fellows could not but retain the sobriquet. Lyson quotes from the Lambeth Ch.wardens’ Accounts, 1523: ‘For the Bishop’s dynner and hys company on St. Nycolas’ Day, iis. viiid.’
171. Daniel Archdeacon was recommended to the King for his services, 1610. (State Papers, 1623–5, p. 545.)
172. ‘Roger le Archeprest’ (J.). The term was in use in the seventeenth century. Smith, the ‘silver-tongued’ preacher, speaks of ‘priest, or priests, or archpriests, or any such like.’ (God’s Arrow against Atheists.)
173. As in occupative names, such as ‘Fisherman’ and ‘Poulterer,’ there was a tendency to repeat the suffix, or to add ‘man’ to a term that itself expressed a personal agent, so it was in official names. We have just spoken of ‘Vickerman’ and ‘Priestman.’ ‘Symon Priorman’ (W. 15) and ‘William Munkeman’ (W. 15) are other cases in point.
174. A curious, not to say cumbrous, surname is met with in the Parliamentary Writs—that of ‘Holywaterclerk’—a certain ‘Hugh Haliwaterclerk’ being set down as dwelling at Lincoln. Doubtless he was connected with the cathedral body of that city. The name, I need not say, is obsolete; and the Reformation has removed the office denoted. A ‘Walter le Churcheclerk’ is found in the same record.
175. The charge of the vestry seems to have been given also to the ‘revetour,’ from ‘revestir.’ A ‘William Revetour, clericus, filius Rogeri Morbet, revetour,’ was admitted to freedom of York City in 1420. He died in 1446, and in his will makes mention of his father as ‘Roger Revetour.’ (Corpus Christi Guild, p. 24. Surt. Soc.)
176. A curious, not to say cumbrous, surname is met with in the Parliamentary Writs—that of ‘Holywaterclerk’—a certain ‘Hugh Haliwaterclerk’ being set down as dwelling at Lincoln. Doubtless he was connected with the cathedral body of that city. The name, I need not say, is obsolete; and the Reformation has removed the office denoted. A ‘Walter le Churcheclerk’ is found in the same record.
177. The charge of the vestry seems to have been given also to the ‘revetour,’ from ‘revestir.’ A ‘William Revetour, clericus, filius Rogeri Morbet, revetour,’ was admitted to freedom of York City in 1420. He died in 1446, and in his will makes mention of his father as ‘Roger Revetour.’ (Corpus Christi Guild, p. 24. Surt. Soc.)
178. ‘John Closterer.’ (Three Histories of Durham. Surt. Soc.) This would be a general term for one who dwelt in a monastic institution. Shakespeare uses the feminine ‘cloistress.’ Of a similar character would be ‘Nicholas Brotherhood’ (Nicholls’ Leicester, 1633), ‘John Brotherhood’ (W. 20), or ‘William Felliship’ (W. 11).
179. In the Monastical Church of Durham, written in 1593, we are told of the ‘Cellarer’ that ‘the chambre where he dyd lye was in the dorter.’ (P. 83.)
180. Hence the local surname ‘Spital’ or ‘Spittle:’ ‘Richard ate Spitale,’ M. ‘Gilbert de Hospitall,’ A.
181. Our ‘Amners’ are but a corruption of this same name. The word had become early so corrupted—‘For in tymes paste kynges have geven theyr bysshoprycks to theyr councellers, chaplaynes... or to suche which have taken paynes in theyr householde, as amners, and deans of the chappell,’ &c. (A Supplycacion to our moste Soveraigne Lorde Kynge Henry the Eyght, p. 34.)
182. It was thus in the case of Simon the Leper of Bethany. The fact of there being a feast in his house shows that he had been cured of his disorder. None the less, however, did the surname cling to him.
183. ‘Go ye and tell agen to Jon those things that ye have herd and seen. Blind men seen, crokide goen, mesels ben maad clene, defe men heren,’ &c. (Matt. xi., Wicklyffe.)
184. Pilgrims to Rome were ‘Romers;’ whence such an entry as ‘Cristiana la Romere’ (H.R.) Piers Plowman in ‘Passus IV.’ speaks, within eight lines, of ‘religious romares’ and ‘Rome-runners.’
185. Capgrave, under date 1293, says: ‘In the xxii. yere was Celestius the Fifte, Pope, take fro’ his hous, for he was a ankir.’ This Celestius at once passed a law that a Pope might resign, and instantly gave it up, returning to his old life again.
186. The Hundred Rolls contain ‘Geoffrey Halve Knit’ and ‘Nicholas Halve Knycht.’ They would seem to have arrived at some half stage toward chivalric rank.
187. Swyan, in Morte Arthure, slays Child-Chatelain, and
‘The swyers swyre-bane (neck-bone) he swappes in sondre.’
188. An ordinance of Edward III. declares that ‘men of arms, hoblers’ and archers (gentz darmes, hobelers et archers) chosen to go in the king’s service out of England, shall be at the king’s wages from the day that they depart out of the counties where they were chosen, till their return.’ (Stat. Realm, vol. i. p. 301.) Of the hobby itself, too, we have mention. Thus a list of the royal stud at Eltham, in the seventeenth year of Henry VIII., includes ‘coursers, 30; young horses, 8; barbary horses, 4; stallions, 8; hobbyes and geldings, 12.’ (Collection of Ordinances, p. 200.)
189. In the Life of Hugh of Lincoln mention is made of ‘Marchadeus princeps Rutariorum’ (p. 264). See the glossary, however, from which I have derived much of the above.
190. In the Morte Arthure mention is made of a youth named ‘Chastelayne, a chylde of the Kynges chambyre.’
191. Such names as ‘Alice Suckling’ (ff.), or ‘William Firstling,’ (ditto)—both terms familiarised to us by the Authorised Version—belong, seemingly, to the same class.
192. Among other duties the usher lay at the door of his lord’s sleeping apartment. The Boke of Curtasye says the
‘Usher before the dore
In outer chambur lies on the flore.’
193. Our friends across the border have this surname in the form of ‘Chalmers.’
194. The more correct form is found in the name of ‘William Summaster,’ who is met with in an old Oxford record as having deposited, in 1462, a caution for ‘Sykyll-Halle,’ of which he was principal. (Vide Mun. Acad. Oxon.)
195. A strange and yet most natural change gradually crept over this word. There can be no doubt that the original ‘potager,’ or ‘potinger,’ had his place in the baronial household as the superintendent of the mess-making department. From his knowledge of herbs thus acquired he evidently came to be looked upon in a medicinal capacity. Thus the term came to be used synonymously with ‘apothecary.’ In the Archæologia (vol. xxii) we find it recorded that one of the horses connected with the household of James V. of Scotland was called ‘le Pottinger’—‘uno equo pharmacopile, vulgo le Pottinger.’ In an old university record, dated 1439, I find, too, a certain ‘Ralph Prestbury’ mentioned as sworn to keep the peace towards ‘Thomam Halle, potygare, alias chirurgicum.’ (Mun. Acad. Oxon., p. 523.) Probably, however, it was the lowly herbalist, rather than the professional druggist, who acquired the sobriquet.
196. Amongst other gifts from the City of London to the Black Prince on his return to London from Gascoigne, in 1371, were ’48 esqueles and 24 saltcellars, weighing by goldsmiths’ weight, 76l. 5s.’ (Riley’s London, p. 350.) ‘The 11 messes to the children of the Kechyn, Squillery, and Pastrey, with Porters, Scowerers, and Turnbroches, every mess at 23l. 16s. 9½d., in all 261l. 13s. 7d.’ (Ord. Henry VIII. at Eltham.) Apart from such entries as ‘John le Squylier,’ or ‘Geoffrey le Squeller,’ the Parl. Rolls gave us a ‘John de la Squillerye.’
197. I may here mention that our brushes were almost entirely made of furze or ling; bristles were rarely used. Hence such a name as ‘Robert le Lingyure’ (H.R.), doubtless a maker and seller of brushes and brooms.
198. The ‘Promp. Par.’ has ‘Swyllare: Dysche-weschour.’
199. In an inventory of household chattels, dated so late as 1574, we find the furniture of the hall first described, and this begins, ‘A cupboard and a spence, 20s.; xxiii pewter dublers, 20s.; seventene sawsers and potingers, 6s.’ (Richmondshire Wills, p. 248.)
200. ‘The Sewer muste speke with the panter and offycers of ye spycery for fruytes that shall be eten fastynge.’—The Boke of Kervynge.
201. A manciple was an achatour for a more public institution, such as an Inn of Court or College. It is quite possible that our ‘Mansels’ and ‘Maunsels’ are thus derived, relics as they undoubtedly are of the ‘le Maunsels’ or ‘le Mansells’ of this period. The corruption colloquially of ‘manciple’ into ‘maunsell’ would be a perfectly natural one. An instance of the purer form is found in the name of ‘Thomas Mancipill,’ met with in Munimenta Academica (Oxon.) p. 525, under the date 1441. That this was a common term at that university we may prove from an indenture found in the same book, dated 1459, in which are mentioned ‘catours, manciples, spencers, cokes, lavenders, &c.’ (P. 346.) It may be interesting to some to state that to this day this is the term for the chief cook in several of the colleges.
202. A ‘William Celarer’ is mentioned in the Churchwardens’ Accounts of Horley, Surrey, 1526. (Brand. vol. i. 226.) A Saxon form of this existed in the term, ‘Hoarder,’ i.e. one who stored up. ‘Richard le Hordere’ (H.R.), ‘Adam le Horder’ (Parl. Writs). The form ‘hordestre,’ or cellaress, is met with in contemporaneous writings.
203. The duties of Butler and Panter being so all-important, they are often found encroaching on one another’s vocation. Thus the Boke of Curtasye says:—
‘Botler schalle sett for each a messe,
A pot, a lofe, withouten distress.’
204. This was evidently in existence as a surname formerly, although I have only been able to discover one instance of it. The Principal of Bedel Hall, one of the numerous smaller establishments at Oxford in mediæval times, was in the year 1462 a certain Dr. Schalke. (Mun. Acad. Oxon.) It is very likely that our present ‘Chalk’ represents this name.
205. ‘The sewer must serve, and from the borde convey all manner of potages, metes, and sauces.’—The Boke of Kervynge.
206. We still use the compounds of this, as in ‘pursue,’ ‘ensue,’ or ‘issue;’ but we scarcely now employ the simple root-word so freely as it evidently was employed in Wicklyffe’s time. He translates Mark ii. 14 as follows: ‘And whaune he passide he saygh Levy of Alfey sittynge at the tolbothe and he seide to hym, sue me, and he roos and suede him.’
207. ‘Item: A Duke’s eldest sonn is borne a Marquisse, and shall goe as a Marquisse, and have his Assayes, the Marquisse being present.’ (A Book of Precedence.) Hall, speaking of King Richard’s murder, says of Sir Piers that he ‘came to Pomfret, commanding that the esquier whiche was accustomed to sewe and take the assaye before Kyng Rychard should no more use that maner of service.’ F. xiv.
208. Forks, used first in Italy, were not introduced into the French Court till late in the sixteenth century. In England they did not make their appearance till 1608, and it is said they were there the immediate result of the published travels of Thomas Coryat, who visited Italy in that year. I am sorry to say that I cannot find any instance of ‘Spooner’ in our earlier archives. Foxe mentions, in his Martyrology, a ‘Robert Catlin, spoonmaker,’ persecuted in 1552 at Byebrook, Suffolk.
209. ‘To Percivall Smallpage, for his expences, xxs.’ (Household Account, Princess Elizabeth. Cam. Soc.)
210. We find the modern spelling of this sobriquet little varied from that of the fifteenth century. An act, passed in 1463, to restrain excess in apparel, makes a proviso in favour of ‘Hensmen, Heroldes, Purceyvantes, Swerdeberers, as Maires, Messagers, and Minstrelles.’ (Stat. Realm, vol. ii. p. 402.) Sir Harris Nicolas says: ‘No word has been more commented upon than “Henchmen,” or “Henxmen.” Without entering into the controversy, it may be sufficient to state that in the reign of Henry VIII. it meant pages of honour. They were the sons of gentlemen, and in public processions always walked near the monarch’s horse.’ (Privy Purse Expenses of Henry VIII., p. 327.)
211. Words terminating in this ‘ager’ seem invariably to have been changed in the manner seen above. Thus, besides ‘Massinger’ and ‘Pottinger,’ we have ‘Arminger’ from the old ‘Armiger,’ ‘Firminger’ from the once not unfamiliar ‘Furmager,’ or ‘Clavinger’ from ‘Claviger.’
212. This is confirmed by the Promp. Par. ‘Brevetowre: brevigerulus.’
213. Perhaps I ought to have placed ‘le Breviter’ in the dining-hall, as but another name for the steward or steward’s lieutenant. It was one among other duties of this officer to set down not merely the courses as they came in, but what and how much was placed before each, so that all might tally with the sum allowed for culinary expenses. This is alluded to in the Boke of Curtasye. Speaking of the steward’s offices in the hall, it says:—
‘At counting stuard schalle ben,
Tyll alle be brevet of wax so grene,
Wrytten into bokes, without let,
That before in tabuls hase been set.’
Further on, too, it adds—
‘The clerke of the kitchen shalle alle thyngs breve.’
The name itself lingered on uncorrupted for some time; for as simple ‘Breviter’ it is found in 1580 in a Cambridge University list. (Hist. C. C. Coll. Cam.) The corrupted ‘Bretter’ still exists, and is met with in ‘William Bretter,’ a name entered in the Calendar to Pleadings of Elizabeth’s reign.
214. ‘To John Redyng, avener, for the expenses of le palfrais, 50l.’ Materials for Hist. of Reign of Henry VII., p. 407.
215. ‘Item: It is ordeyned that the King’s Avenor, with the two clerkes of the said office, doe give their dayly attendance, as well as for the check roll, as all other concerning provisions to be made for the king’s stable, according to the statutes made and ordeyned for the same.’ (Extract from Ordinances of Henry VIII. at Eltham.)
216. The Liber Albus, among other entries, has the following: ‘Qe nul teigne Escole de Eskermerye, ne de Bokeler deins la citee.’
217. The old Norman word was either ‘healme’ or ‘heaume.’ The more ordinary term for the former now is ‘helmet.’ Hall, writing of the Battle of Bosworth Field, after mentioning the fact of the armies coming in sight the one of the other, says: ‘Lord, how hasteley the souldyoures buckled their healmes, how quickly the archers bent their bowes and frushed their feathers, how redely the bilmen shoke their billes and proved their staves.’ (Hall, Richard III., fol. 32 b.)
218. It is thought by several writers that the ‘Sworder’ was one who performed feats of jugglery, the sword, after the fashion of the times, forming the most important feature in his art, his hairbreadth tricks being especially popular with the country people. It is quite possible this may be its real origin. The only early instances I find of the name are in the Parliamentary Writs and the Parliamentary Rolls, where are recorded respectively a ‘John le Serdere’ and a ‘Henry Swerder.’
219. In Mr. Riley’s interesting Memorials of London there is recorded not merely a ‘Richard le Kissere,’ but the occupation itself is clearly marked in the entry, ‘Walter de Bedefont, kissere.’ (P. xxii.) There need be no hesitation in accepting the statement that the ‘kisser’ was thus occupied. It is merely spelt according to the then pronunciation. In the Statutes of Arms it is said: ‘And no son of a great lord, that is to say, of an earl or baron, shall have other armour than mufflers and cuishes (“ne seit arme fors de mustilers e de quisers”).’ (Stat. of Realm, vol. i. p. 231.)
220. The obsolete ‘Bucklermaker’ must be set here. Our Authorized Version has made us familiar with ‘sword and buckler.’ ‘Item: Payd to Phillip Tynker and Mathou Bucler-maker, for drawyenge of the yron and makynge of the stapuls, iis.’ (Ludlow Churchwardens’ Accounts, Cam. Soc.)
221. We find the Pattenmakers of London petitioning the Commons, in 1464, that they may have restored to them the use of the ‘tymber called Aspe,’ which had been of late entirely in the hands of the manufacturers of arrows, ‘so that the Flecchers thorough the Reame may sell their arrowes at more esy price than they were wonte to doo.’ The aspe was a species of poplar.—Rol. Parl. Ed. IV.
222. The ‘arrowsmith’ has a much longer and less euphonious title in a statute of Elizabeth regarding the hiring of servants by the year. In it are included ‘Weavers, Tuckers, Fullers, Pewterers, Cutlers, Smithes, Farrours, Sadlers, Spurryers, Turners, Bowyers, Fletchers, Arrowhead-makers, Butchers, Cookes, or Myllers.’—5 Eliz. c. iv. 2.
223. Thus, among the London occupations, Cocke Lovell includes those of the
‘Spooners, turners, and hatters,
Lyne-webbers, setters, and lyne-drapers.’
224. Since writing this, I have discovered the names of ‘John Fusilier’ and ‘—— Fuzelier.’ (See Proc. and Ord. Privy Council, under dates 1437 and 1439.)
225. We have a similar interchange of these two initial letters in the cases of ‘Gervais’ and ‘Jervis,’ ‘Geoffrey’ and ‘Jeffrey,’ and ‘Gill’ and ‘Jill.’
226. ‘Thomasine Woodkeeper’ is set down in the Index to State Papers (Domestic) for 1635. This is a name, I doubt not, of later origin.
227. The stringent care taken of the beasts of chase may be gathered from the various laws passed regarding the dogs of such swineherds, &c., as had right of entry in the woods. The chief one related to what was called the lawing of dogs. By this rule the three claws of the forefoot of every mastiff were to be cut off by the skin, and the forest assize was to make special inquisition to see that it was in all cases done. (See Stat. de Finibus, 27 Edward I.)
228. ‘He seide also to hise discipilis, ther was a riche man that hadde a baylyf, and this was defamed to him as he hadde wastid hise goodis. And he clepide him and seyde to him, what here I this thing of thee? Yelde rekenyng of thi Baylye, for thou myght not now be baylyf.’ (Luke xvi. 1, 2—Wicklyffe.)
229. The first instance I have met with of this name is in a formal declaration against Popish doctrine, dated 1534, and signed among others by ‘Gulielmus Buckmaster.’ (Foxe’s Martyrology.)
230. The Hundred Rolls have the abbreviated form in ‘Godfrey le Futur.’
231. Not very long previously to this we find Trevisa writing: ‘There are many harts, and wild beasts, and few wolves, therefore sheep are the more sykerlyche’ (secure). Thus we have ample evidence, apart from the existence of the name, that this depredator of the farming stock was anything but unknown during mediæval times.
232. Of course the breeding of falcons was a favourite as well as important care. By a special statute of Edward I.’s reign, every freeman could have in his own wood ‘ayries of hawks, sparrowhawks, faulcons, eagles, and herons.’ (25 Edward I. c. 13.) By a statute passed in the reign of Edward III., anyone who found a strayed hawk or tercelet was to bring it to the sheriff of the county, through whom proclamation to that effect was to be made in the towns. If the finder concealed the bird, he was rendered liable to two years’ imprisonment. (34 Ed. III. c. 22.) This will give some idea of the value attached to a good falcon in those days.
233. This form of spelling is used by Burton in his Anatomy. He asks, how would Democritus have been affected ‘to see a scholar crouch and creep to an illiterate peasant for a meal’s meat, a scrivener better paid for an obligation, a faulkner receive greater wages than a student?’ (P. 37.)
234. Juliana Berners says: ‘Ye shall understonde that they ben called Ostregeres that kepe goshawkes or tercelles.’ (Ed. 1496, b. iii.)
235. ‘Thacker’ represented the northern pronunciation, ‘Thatcher’ the south. Compare ‘kirk’ and ‘church,’ ‘poke’ and ‘pouch,’ ‘dike’ and ‘ditch,’ or the surnames ‘Fisk’ and ‘Fish.’ A ‘Nathaniel Thackman’ is set down in the index to State Papers (Domestic) for 1635.
236. A ‘John Thaxter’ is met with in a college register for 1567 (Hist. C. C. Coll. Cam.), and far earlier than this, in the Parliamentary Writs, we light upon a ‘Thomas Thackstere.’ This is one more instance of the feminine termination. That the word itself was in familiar use is proved by the fact that in the ordinance arranging the Norwich Trades Procession we find among others the ‘Thaxteres’ marching in company with the ‘Rederes.’ (Hist. Norfolk, vol. iii.) As a surname the term still survives.
237. ‘Robertus Brown, redere,’ Guild of St. George, Norwich.
238. ‘Also, that no tylers called hillyers of the cite compelle, ne charge ne make no tyler straunger to serve at his rule and assignment, etc.’—The Ordinances of Worcester, English Guilds, 398.
239. According to Walsingham, Wat the rebel was ‘Walterus helier, vel tyler.’ The word is prettily used in an old Saxon Psalter, where, in the stead of our present ‘He is a buckler to all those that trust in Him,’ we read that a
‘Forhiler is He
Of all that in Him hoping be.’
The following quotations from Wicklyffe’s New Testament will prove how familiar was the term in his day: ‘And lo a greet stiryng was made in the see so that the schip was hilid with wavis’ (Matt. viii. 24); ‘For I hungride and ye gaven me to ete, I thirstide and ye gaven me to drynke, I was herbarweles and ye herboriden me, naked and ye hiliden me’ (Matt. xxv. 35); ‘No man lightnith a lanterne, and hilith it with a vessel, or putteth it under a bed’ (Luke viii. 16).
240. Among other items of an entry in the Issues of the Exchequer we find for ‘putting the shingles on the king’s kitchen, for the aforesaid week, 17s. 4d.’ (43 Hen. III.)
241. We find all these various forms of the same occupation mentioned in a statute of Elizabeth relating to the apprenticeship of children. In it are included ‘Lymeburner, Brickmaker, Bricklayer, Tyler, Slater, Healyer, Tilemaker... Thatcher or Shingler.’ (5 Eliz. c. 4, 23.)
242. Hugh Marbeler was sheriff of London in 1424.
243. Another Saxon name, that of ‘John le Sclabbere,’ is met with in the Parliamentary Writs. It is, however, but an isolated instance, and I do not suppose there was any particular craft in masonry that went by that title.
244. ‘Item: Payd to a laborer for to pargytt, viid. (P. 4, Churchwardens’ Accounts, Ludlow, Cam. Soc.)
245. Thus, our ‘Freebodys’ are found alike in this guise, and in that of ‘Frybody.’ ‘Robert Frybody’ is set down in Proc. and Ord. Privy Council.
246. A curiously contradictory name is met with in ‘Robert Frebond,’ found in the Hundred Rolls. The same roll contains the names of ‘Roger le Neubonde’ and ‘Emma Newbonde.’
247. Among the peasantry of Yorkshire the simple farm labourer is still a ‘hine’ or ‘hind.’
248. A ‘Cropper’ was a farm labourer who superintended the growth and cutting of the crops. In the Custom Roll of the Manor of Ashton-under-Lyne (Ch. Soc.) occurs the following:—‘Roger the Cropper, for his tenement, and whole service, the present 8d.; the farm, 15s.’ &c. Lower down mention is made also of ‘Robin the Cropper.’
249. ‘Digger’ also exists, and is found in an epitaph in St. Sepulchre’s, Middlesex.
‘Here lyes Robert Diggs and William Digger,
There’s no living soule knew which was the bigger,
They fared well and lived easy,
And now they’re both dead, an ’t shall please ye.’
Dingley’s History from Marble (Cam. Soc.).
250. Chappell’s Ballad Music, vol. i. 327.
251. Thus we find in the forest charter of Edward III.: ‘Unus quisque liber homo faciat in bosco suo vel in terra sua, quam habet in foresta marleram (marl-pit), fossatum, vel terram arabile,’ &c. (Stat. of Realm, vol. i. p. 121.)
252. As there was the ‘Miller’ and the ‘Milward,’ so there was the ‘Marler’ and the ‘Marlward:’ ‘Alice le Marlere’ (H.R.), ‘John Marleward’ (H.R.).
253. ‘He shall be called... a lamb of Christ’s fold, a sheep of his pasture, a branch of his vine, a member of his Church, an imp of his kingdom.’—Bishop Bale.
254. ‘Peachman’ must be set here. ‘Daniel Peachman’ occurs in Blomefield’s Norfolk (Index).
255. Thus it is expressly stated in the Forest Charter, as of importance to the holder, that every freeman should have a right to the honey found within his woodland: ‘Habeat similiter mel quod inventum fuerit in boscis suis.’ (Stat. Realm, vol. i. p. 121.)
256. ‘Hewer’ often occurs in composition, as in ‘Robert le Wodehyewere,’ ‘Richard Stonhewer,’ ‘Richard le Blockhewere,’ or ‘William Flesschewer.’ This last may be but a corruption of ‘Flesher.’ After the prevailing fashion of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the termination ‘ster’ was sometimes added instead of ‘er.’ Thus, in the Chester Play we find the procession joined by the ‘Hewsters.’ Richard le Hewster was sheriff in 1382. (Ormerod’s Cheshire, vol. i. 302.)
257. The ashburner is incidentally alluded to in a statute of Elizabeth’s reign, in which, among other occupations, is mentioned the ‘Burner of Oore and woad ashes.’—5 Eliz. c. 4, 23.)
258. This spelling lasted till the seventeenth century. Henry Best, in his Farming Book, 1641, says: ‘The noutheard wages were, for every beast, 2d.’ (P. 119, Sur. Soc.)
259. ‘Adam le Roc’ (H.R.), represented by our modern ‘Rooks,’ reminds us of the older form.
260. It will give the reader some idea of the importance of this root-word when I say that these five names appear in a list of thirty-one persons dwelling in the village of Aynwyk. (Surtees Soc. Hexham Priory, vol. ii. p. 4.)
261. In an old book of tenures kept in York Castle occurs, or did occur, the following: ‘David le Lardiner holds one Serjeantry, and he is Keeper of the Gaol of the Forest, and Seizer of the Cattle which are taken for the king’s debts.’
262. Nicolas Goteman (W. ii.) occurs in an old Yorkshire register, but the name is now obsolete, I think.
263. In a statute of Edward III.’s reign, dated 1363, in defining the attire suitable for those whose chattels came under 40s. value, we find enumerated with others, ‘tenders of oxen, cow-herds, shepherds, swineherds, deyes, and all other keepers of live-stock’ (‘bovus, vachers, berchers, porchers, deyes, et tous autres gardeinz des bestes’). (Vide Prom. Par., p. 116.)
264. ‘William Wyndmilward’ occurs in the Cal. Rot. Chartarum.
265. ‘Manumissio Thomæ Haale, alias dicti Mylleward de Hextone,’ 1480 (xx. 2, p. 210). ‘Milmaster’ is also found. ‘Mr. Andrew Milmaster, of the Old Jewry, died Aug. 23, 1630.’ (Smith’s Obituary.)
266. We may here mention several surnames whose original possessors were evidently confrères of the miller. ‘John le Melmongere’ (M.), i.e., mealmonger; ‘Denis le Otemonger’ (X.), ‘Walter le Heymongere’ (G.), ‘Ralph le Cornmonger’ (T.), and ‘Henry le Cornmongere’ (M.). These are all obsolete, I fear.
267. ‘Adam Taskermale’ (H.R.). This would be a sobriquet taken from the ‘male,’ or bag in which the tasker carried his day’s provision.
268. In the Ordinances of the Household of Henry VI., dated 1455, we find the ‘Bakhous’ (bakehouse) to be under thirteen officers, and of them are ‘6 Gromes Bulters.’ (Pro. Ord. Privy Council, vol. vi. 226.)
269. ‘Robert le Whelere,’ G., ‘Walter Welwryghte,’ A., ‘Robert le Wainwright,’ H., ‘Robert le Cartwright,’ B., ‘Hugh le Schipwryte,’ A., ‘John Botewright,’ F.F.
270. So late as 1541 we have such an entry as this: ‘Item, to John Glassier for mendynge the wyndowe over the gallery, vs. viiid.’ (Churchwardens’ Accounts, Ludlow, p. 8, Cam. Soc.) A little later we find: ‘Item, to John Pavier for his labour, iiid. Item, for pavinge before the gate, id.’ (P. 10, do.) These are both interesting instances of the late formation of surnames. Both evidently took their second sobriquets from their occupation. ‘Pavier,’ I need hardly say, still exists.
271. Since writing the above I find my latter conjecture to be confirmed. Miss Meteyard, in her interesting life of Josiah Wedgwood, says: ‘The surname of ‘Tellwright,’ or ‘Tilewright,’ which, variously spelt, fills a considerable portion of the parish register of Burslem down to a late period of the eighteenth century, and is still common, is curious evidence of the antiquity of the tilewright’s craft in this locality.... Every worker in its clays became a tilewright, whether he moulded tiles or formed the homely pipkin or porringer, the slab-like dish or ale-vat for the hall.’ (Vol. i. p. 93.)
272. In an inventory of household furniture, dated 1559, we have amongst other articles, ‘One trussin bed with a teaster of yealow and chamlet, one old arke, old hangyers of wull grene and red, 6s. 8d.’ (Richmondshire Wills, p. 135.) Another writer, twenty years earlier, relating the contents of the ‘mylke howse,’ includes ‘an arke, a tube (tub), a stande, a chyrne.’ (P. 42, do.) The earliest instance of the surname I have yet met with is found in the same book, where, in a will dated 1556, the testator bequeaths a sheep to ‘Henry Arkwright.’ (Do. p. 155, note.) Both the ark itself and the trade are of North English origin.
273. ‘Shuxsmith’ seems but a corruption of this. The intermediate form is found in Wills and Inventories (Ch. Soc.), in the names of ‘Margerie Shughsmythe’ and ‘Henry Shughsmythe.’
274. ‘Buckler’ may be mentioned here. ‘John le Bockeler’ (A.), ‘Richard Bokeler’ (Z).
275. With our ‘Locksmiths’ we must, of course, ally our ‘Lockmans,’ ‘Lockyers,’ and ‘Lockers,’ and perchance ‘Lookers.’ We find a ‘Henry le Lokier’ set down in the Hundred Rolls, and in an old Oxford record, dated 1443, there occurs the name of ‘Robert Harward, loker,’ who doubtless found plenty of employment in providing for the security of the various rooms attached to the different colleges and halls. (Mun. Acad. Oxon., p. 535.)
276. There are several single representatives of occupations connected with the smith which I have not mentioned in the text, not having met with any trace of their continued existence amongst us. Thus, in the London Memorials we find a ‘John Chietesmyth,’ which, so far, I have found to be wholly unintelligible. I must say the same in regard to ‘Cokesmyth,’ occurring in the Boldon Book. ‘John Rodesmith,’ if not a scribe’s error for ‘Redesmith,’ would be the manufacturer of the then familiar ‘rood’ or ‘rode,’ the cross which we occasionally may see still standing beside our old turnpikes. ‘William Watersmith,’ it is quite reasonable, may have spent his energies on water-wheels and such other machinery as helped to turn the mill. All these are now, and probably were then, almost immediately obsolete. On the other hand, we have ‘Wildsmith’ existing in our midst, only one representative of which am I able to discover in our olden records. It is just possible that, like the obsolete ‘Youngsmith,’ it originally referred to the characteristics of the man as well as of his trade.
277. The roads between Cumberland and Northumberland were of the roughest and most dangerous character till the seventeenth century, when General Wade, in the course of his progress against the rebels, laid down some of a better kind. The following couplet has been handed down as the effort of some local poet:—
‘If you’d ever been here
When these roads were not made,
You would lift up your hands
And bless General Wade.’
278. In the Rolls of Parliament special mention is made of the King’s Corser, he who acted as the king’s agent in regard to the purchase of horses. A certain ‘Johannes Martyr, corsere,’ occurs in an old Oxford record, dated 1451. (Mun. Acad. Oxon., p. 616.)
279. Thus, in the Itinerarium of Richard I., it is said that, after a conflict with the Greeks, ‘Rex igitur cum persecutus esset imperatorem fugientem lucratus est runcinum vel jumentum sacculo retro sellam collocato,’ &c.—P. 191. We may quote, also, the Wardrobe of Edward I.: ‘Magistro Willelmo de Apperle, pro restauro unius runcini favi appreciati pro Roberto de Burton, valletto suo, &c., 8l.’—P. 172.
280. The Test. Ebor. (W. 2) gives us a ‘John Charioteer,’ and the Cal. Proc. Chancery (Z.Z.) a ‘Thomas Charietter.’
281. This is confirmed by the existence of ‘Chartman,’ more modernly ‘Cartman.’ A ‘John Chartman’ was rector of Sedistern, Norfolk, in 1361. (Blomefield.)
282. The following entry is found in the Issue Rolls: ‘To Master William la Zousche, clerk of the king’s great wardrobe in money, paid to him by the hands of John le Charer, for making a certain chariot for the use and behoof of Lady Eleanor, the king’s sister, by writ of liberate containing 1000l.’ (Issues of the Exchequer, 6 Ed. III.) Capgrave, too, may be cited. Writing of Helianore, daughter to the King of France, when given to Richard of England, he says, under date 1394: ‘She was ful scarsly viii yere of age, but she brought oute of Frauns xii chares ful of ladies and domicelles.’ Mr. Way says that in 1294 the use of this vehicle by the wives of wealthy citizens in Paris had become so prevalent that it was forbidden them by an ordinance of Philippe le Bel.
283. ‘Couchman’ and ‘Coachman’ must be set here. ‘Aug. 4, 1640. Dorothy Coachman, daughter of Tilney Coachman, buried’ (Smith’s Obituary, p. 17). This Tilney is recorded elsewhere as ‘Tilney Couchman.’ Mr. Wedgewood says, ‘Coach. The Fr. coucher became in Dutch koetsen—to lie; whence “koetse,” a couch—a litter, a carriage in which you may recline, a coach’ (p. 159). The twofold spelling of this Tilney’s name is thus explained. Hence, too, ‘Couchmen’ represents but the older form of ‘Coachman’—Richard Couchman, Z., ‘William Cowcheman,’ EE., John Coacheman, Z.
284. In the York Pageant the ‘Sellers’ and the ‘Satellers’ went together. The latter, doubtless, made satchels, and would differ little from the ‘bourser’ or ‘pouchemaker’ of that period. In the Prompt. Parv. we find ‘Sele, horsys harneys.’ A ‘John de Essex, Selmakere,’ occurs in the London Records, 1310, and a ‘Robert Newcomen, Sealmaker,’ 1311. (Riley’s London, pp. xxii., xxx.) The latter, doubtless, was a maker of seals, like some of the ‘le Selers’ of this period. I have mentioned them elsewhere.
285. While, as I have just said, in the York Pageant it is the ‘Satellers’ and ‘Sellers’ who go together, in the Chester Play it is the ‘Saddlers’ and ‘Fusterers.’
286. In Holland’s version of Pliny it is said that the Empress Poppæa ‘was knowne to cause her ferrers ordinarily to shoe her coach horses and other palfries, &c., with cleane gold.’ (Way’s Prompt. Par.)
287. A suggestion I received at a dinner-table the other day that ‘ostler’ was merely a corruption of ‘oat-stealer’ I may as well mention here. It is certainly suggestive, if not overburdened with accuracy.
288. ‘William le Vendour’ is registered in the Cal. Rot. Chartarum.
289. Mr. Riley, in his interesting Memorials of London, quotes from the Rolls of Gaol Delivery, temp. Edward I., the name of ‘Richard Witbred, hodere,’ who had been slain in one of the city streets. (Introduction, p. xi.)
290. An act of Edward VI. speaks of ‘the buying of anye corne, fyshe, butter, or cheese by any suche Badger, Lader, Kyddier, or Carrier as shal be assigned and allowed to that office.’ (5 & 6 Ed. VI. c. 14.) A confirmation of this act by Elizabeth alters ‘Kyddier’ to ‘Kydder.’ The lader was the old carrier or leader. I have deferred speaking of him till my next chapter.
291. The greed of these strolling ecclesiastics is frequently alluded to in the writings of this period. An old song on the Minorite friars says—
‘They preche alle of povert, but that love they naught,
For gode mete to their mouthe the toun is through sought.’
(Pol. Poems, vol. i. p. 270.)
292. An act was passed in Edward VI.’s reign to suppress in some degree the number of this wandering fraternity:—‘Forasmuch as it is evident that Tynkers, Pedlers, and such like vagrant persones are more hurtfull than necessarie to the Commen Wealth of this realme, be it therefore ordeyned... that... no person or persones commonly called Pedler, Tynker, or Pety Chapman, shall wander or go from one towne to another, or from place to place, out of the towne, parishe, or village, where such person shall dwell, and sell pynnes, poyntes laces, gloves, knyves, glasses, tapes, or any suche kynde of wares whatsoever, or gather connye skynnes, &c.’ (5 & 6 Ed. VI. c. 21)
293. ‘John le Coper’ is found in the Hundred Rolls.
294. ‘Lambert Hardewareman’ (W. ii.) is met with in York in 1473. Whether he was a travelling dealer or no, I cannot say.
295. It is to the humorous and familiar associations inseparably connected with the early chapman we owe our ‘chap,’ a mere corruption of the above.
296. Mr. William Markettman was appointed by the Committee of Plundered Ministers in 1650 to the Rectory of Elstree. (Clutterbuck’s Hertford, vol. i. 161.) ‘Articles exhibited against Clement Marketman, executor of Clement Stuppeney, &c.’ (State Papers, July 25, 1623.)
297. ‘Willmo Mone sometario ad unum somerum pro armis Regis.’ (Wardrobe of Edward I., p. 77.)
298. Thus the somewhat incongruous expression in Psalm cxxvii. 1, ‘the watchman waketh but in vain,’ is explained. That a sentinel should require rousing is opposed to all our ideas of the duties associated with this office. It should be ‘the watchman watcheth but in vain.’
299. It is in allusion to the disturbance thus created in the small hours of the night we find a writer of the Stuart period saying, not unwittily, to one thus rudely aroused:—
‘That you are vext their wakes your neighbours keep
They guess it is, because you want your sleep:
I therefore wish that you your sleep would take,
That they (without offence) might keep their wake.’
(Brand’s Pop. Ant. iii. 9.)
300. Isaac Wake was university orator in 1607. He preached Rainold’s funeral sermon. Dr. Sleep was the leading preacher in Cambridge at the same time. James I., who dearly loved a pun, said ‘he always felt inclined to Wake when he heard Sleep, and to Sleep when he heard Wake,’ i.e., he could not decide on the relative merits of the two. (Brooks’ Puritans, vol. ii. p. 180.)
301. Thus, in the Winter’s Tale, the servant says: ‘I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry-lace and a pair of gloves.’
302. A law was passed at Winchester in 1285 that no fair or market should be held in the churchyard, as had previously been the case.
303. The same record, however, contains a ‘Fairman Alberd,’ so that, like ‘Coleman’ and ‘Bateman,’ it may have been but a personal name.
304. It is from this same root that our ‘Kemp’ is derived, meaning a soldier.
305. In the Complaint of the Plowman, too, we are told that the priests were always—
‘At the wrestling and the wake,
And chief chantours at the nale.’
306. In the Household Book of the Earl of Northumberland, in 1511, under the head of ‘Rewards,’ is one of ‘6s. 8d. to the Kyngs and Queenes Barward, if they have one, when they come to the Earl’ (Way). In the Parliamentary Rolls mention is made concerning the ‘Beremaistre of the Forest of Peake.’ It was not till 1835 that bear or bull baiting was finally forbidden by Act of Parliament.
307. An old tavern-sign in Cheshire bore the following inscription:—
‘Good bear sold here,
Our own Bruin.’
The book which records this quotes from the Congleton Town Register: ‘1599.—Paid the bearward, 4s. 4d.’ ‘1601.—Gave the bearward at the great cock-fight, 6s. 8d.’ (Cheshire Ballads, p. 259.)
308. A story is told of an officious clerk belonging to an old rural church who, overwhelmed with the honour of having a bishop presiding at a visitation there, ransacked his brains for something worthy the occasion, and then in stentorian voice gave out, instead of the usual Sternholdic lines, the following variation:—
‘Ye little hills and dales,
Why do ye skip and hop?
Is it because yer glad to see
His Grace the Lord Bish-op?’
309. Curiously enough, we have the name of ‘Robert Harpmaker’ mentioned in an old Oxford record, 1452. (Mun. Acad. Oxon.) This we may look upon, therefore, as an old-standing nuisance.
310. Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, says: ‘Let them freely feast, sing, and dance, have their poppet-playes, hobby-horses, tabers, crouds, bag-pipes,’ &c. (P. 276.)
311. The names of ‘William Elyott, luter,’ and ‘William Spenser, harpour,’ occur in 1432 in an old York will. (Test. Eboracensia, vol. ii. p. 21, Surtees Soc.) ‘Haunce (Hans) the luter’ and ‘Philip the luter’ are frequently mentioned in Privy Expenses (Princess Mary).
312. This name evidently lasted till the seventeenth century, for in 1641 an ‘Adam Orgener’ entered C. C. Coll. Cam. (Vide Masters’ history of that college.)
313. The ‘Rhymer’ is often mentioned as belonging to the royal or feudal retinue. Like many of the above, he may be set among our list of early officerships.
314. We may set here our ‘Bidders,’ or ‘Ernald le Bidere,’ as he was once recorded. He was the general beggar of that day, and no doubt a rich harvest would be the result of his attendance at the fair. Piers Plowman says:—
‘Bidderes and beggares
Faste about yede,
With their belies and their bagges
Of bread ful y-crammed.’
‘Simon le Shobeggere’ (H.R.), or ‘Shoe-beggar,’ as I presume means, seems to have followed a more particular line of business.
315. Here is Glyed Wolby of Gylforde squyere,
Andrew of Habyngedon, apell byer.
(Cocke Lorelle’s Bote.)
I am afraid the reader will scarcely recognise ‘Wool-buyer’ in ‘Wolby,’ but I doubt not such was the trader referred to. ‘Geoffrey le Wolle-byer’ occurs in the Parliamentary Writs.
316. One of Edward III.’s statutes says: ‘That a certain number of portours, pakkers, gwynders (winders), and other laborers of wools and all other merchandizes, be sufficiently ordained for the place where the staple is.’ (Stat. of Realm, vol. i. p. 341.)
317. It is not impossible that this species of cloth was in use by the lower classes for articles of apparel. Chaucer, in his Romance, refers to such a habit when he says:—
‘She ne had on but a straite old sacke,
And many a cloute on it there stacke,
This was her cote, and her mantele.’
318. A prayer to the Commons, in 1464, respecting the importation of foreign goods and merchandise, mentions ‘the makers of wollen cloth within this Reame, as Wevers, Fullers, Dyers, Kempsters, Carders, and Spynners.’ (Rot. Parl. Ed. IV.)
319. A recipe from an old Harleian MS. thus begins: ‘Recipe brawne of capons or of hennys, and dry them wele, and towse them small.’
320. In the south walk, Westminster Abbey, are gravestones recording the deaths of ‘George Slemaker,’ 1802, and ‘Susannah Slemaker,’ his widow, 1818. (Vide Neale’s Westminster Abbey.)
321. Richard Slawright was prior of the Hermit Friars of St. Augustine Warrington, in 1516. (Warrington in 1465. Ch. Soc., p. xliv.)
322. A chantry to the church of All Saints, York, was erected in the fifteenth century by Adam del Bank, Littester.’ (Hist. and Ant. of York, vol. ii. p. 269.) The Promp. Par. has ‘Lystare, or Lytaster of cloth dyynge—Tinctor.’
323. ‘William Fulman,’ a learned antiquary, died in 1688. (Vide Dyce’s Shakespeare, vol. i. p. 35.)
324. A statute of Elizabeth regarding the apprenticeship of poor children includes among others, ‘Wollen-weaver, weaving housewiefes or householde clothe onely and none other, Clothe-Fuller, otherwise called Tucker, or Walker.’ (5 Eliz. c. 4, 23.) ‘Of William Reynolles, walker, for half a pewe with Edward Doughtie, 3s. 4d.’ (Churchwardens’ Expenses, Ludlow, p. 154 (1571), Cam. Soc.) In the Chester Play the ‘weavers and walkers’ marched together. (Vide Appendix.)
325. This practice of treading the cloth is referred to in a complaint concerning the fulling of caps and hats in fulling mills, made to Edward IV. It begins by saying that hats, caps, and bonnets hitherto had been made, wrought, fulled, and thicked in the wonted manner, that is to say, with hands and feet—‘mayns et pees’—and then proceeds to urge that the use of mills brought inferior articles into the market. (Stat. of Realm, vol. ii. p. 473.)
326. A ‘John Wollebeter’ is mentioned in an old Suffolk will of 1370.
327. We have the word ‘bat’ used in Wicklyffe’s Testament: ‘In that hour Jhesus seide to the people, as to a theef ye han gon out with swerdis and battis to take me.’ (Matt. xxvi. 55.)
328. God made ‘ffor to cover us and clethe us also lyne, and wolle and lethire.’ (Mirror of St. Edmund, Early Eng. Text Soc., p. 21.)
329. The bailiff of Norwich in 1250 was ‘Otto le Texter or Weaver.’ (Hist. Norfolk, iii. 58.) ‘John Tixter’ was Mayor of Gloucester in 1270. (Rudder’s Gloucestershire, p. 113.) On the 30th April 1873, the Manchester Courier announced ‘the suspension of Messrs. Textor and Co., silk merchants, London.’
330. In the Prompt. Parv. we find the feminine termination to have been in general use in Norfolk. The author has ‘pleykstare—candidarius,’ and further on, ‘whytstare, or pleykstare—candidarius, candidaria.’ Earlier in the work, too, occurs ‘bleystare, or wytstare (bleykester or whytster)—candidarius.’ That the name lingered there for a considerable period is proved by the fact of a ‘Robert Blaxter’ appearing as defendant in the Court of Chancery in a Norfolk case at the close of the sixteenth century. (Proceedings in Chancery (Elizabeth), vol. i. p. 250.) The earlier spelling is found in such entries as ‘Will le Bleckestere’ (H.R.) or ‘Richard le Blekstare’ (P. W.). Blackister, like Blaxter, still exists.
331. Sylkewomen, pursers, and garnysshers,
Tablemakers, sylkedyers, and shepsters.
(Cocke Lorelle’s Bote.)
332. In A Complaint of Artificers to Parliament, in 1463, there is included amongst other productions, ‘Laces, corses, ribans, frenges of silke and of threde, threden laces, throwen silke, silke in eny wise embrauded.’ (Rot. Parl., Ed. IV.)
333. ‘Edmund Barkmaker’ occurs in ‘Calendar to Pleadings.’ (Elizabeth.)
334. According to Strype, the ‘Company of Megusers’ dealt in the skins of dead horses, and flayed them. He mentions ‘Walter le Whitawyer’ in the same account. (London, vol. ii. p. 232.)
335. Since writing the above, I have discovered in the same rolls a ‘Gilbert le Tower’ and a ‘Thomas le Touere,’ proving my surmise to be correct. The feminine form is also to be met with in a ‘Juliana le Touestre,’ this entry, too, being found in the same register.
336. Many of these cries originated surnames, which, however, in most cases, died with their owners. ‘Fresh-fish’ is found as the sobriquet of a fishmonger; and ‘Coloppes,’ ‘Mackerell,’ and ‘Peascod,’ all figure in the rolls of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.
337. A complaint of craftsmen presented to Parliament in the reign of Edward IV. speaks of ‘silke in eny wise embrauded, golden laces, tyres of silke or of gold, sadles,’ &c. (Rot. Parl.)
338. The caul, or membrane occasionally found round the head of a newly-born child, was ever preserved by the midwife, in accordance with an old superstition, as a preservative against accidents, but especially against drowning. So late as Feb. 27, 1813, the Times newspaper had the following advertisement in its pages: ‘To persons going to sea.—A child’s caul, in a perfect state, to be sold cheap. Apply at 5, Duke Street, Manchester Square, where it may be seen.’ An inventory of goods, dated 1575, we find thus beginning: ‘Imprimis, a cubborde, 20s.; a calle, 5s.; a table, 3s. 4d.’ (Richmondshire Wills, p. 259.) With regard to the caul as an article of dress, we may quote the following: ‘Maydens wear sylken callis, with the whyche they kepe in ordre theyr heare, made yellow with lye.’ (Hormani Vulgaria.)
339. Query—Did ‘Richard le Couhelere,’ recorded in the Parliamentary Writs, dress, prepare, and sell cow-heels? There is nothing improbable in it.
340. ‘E qe chascun esquier porte chapel des armes son Seigneur:’—’And that every esquire do bear a cap of the armes of his lord.’ (Stat. of Realm, vol. i. p. 220.)
341. A complaint on the subject of hats, bonnets, and caps, in 1482, speaks of these three specific articles as ‘hœures, bonnettez, et cappez.’ (Stat. of Realm, vol. ii. p. 473.) ‘Bonnet,’ I need scarcely add, is here used, as it is still in Scotland to this day, as meaning a cap or covering generally for the head.
342. The ecclesiastic tailor was not wanting, judging by such an entry as ‘Robert Vestment-maker’ (W. 2).
343. Talking of Latin forms, however, we are reminded that not unfrequently an artisan of this class would be recorded as ‘William Scissor,’ or ‘Walter Cissor,’ a mode of writing the name very common in our more formal records.
344. As a common instance of the transition process then at work we may cite the name of ‘John le Wympler, Goldsmith,’ which occurs in the London records of this time.
345. A ‘Robert Ornel, paternostrer,’ is mentioned, under date 1276, by the same writer. (Memorials of London, p. xxi.)
346. ‘Richard le Nedeler’ represented Chichester in Parliament in 1305. (Hist. West. Div. of Sussex.)
347. The different materials used for the manufacture of buttons are incidentally declared in such entries as ‘Jacob le Horner et Botoner,’ or ‘John le Botoner et Latoner,’ found in the Cal. and Inventories of the Treasury.
348. Among other entries in the Liber Albus occurs a list of customs for exposure of merchandise to sale:—
‘La charge de mercerie,
La charge de leyne d’Espagne,
La charge de canevas,
La charge de hapertas,
La charge de chalouns et draps du Reyns,’ etc.
An entry almost immediately ensuing, after mentioning most of the above, when come to ‘hapertas,’ speaks of ‘haberdashery.’ (Gildhallæ Munimenta.)
349. Capgrave says that when Charles was at Constantinople the Emperor gave him ‘a part of Jesu crowne, that flowered there in their sight, and a nayle with which oure Lord was nayled to the tre, and a part of oure Lordis crosse: the smok of oure Ladi: the armé of Seynt Simeon. Alle these relikes broute he to Acon.’ (P. 106.)
350. ‘A Marquise (to have) for his gowne, slope, and mantell, xvi yards, and livery for xvi servants.’ (A Book of Precedence.)
351. ‘To William Courteray, of London, Embroiderer, in money paid to him for orfries, and other things by him purchased for a velvet vest for the King, therewith embroidered with pelicans, images, and tabernacles of gold, etc., 20l.’ (40 Edward III. Issues of Exchequer.)
‘Brouderers, strayners, and carpyte-makers.’
(Cocke Lorelle’s Bote.)
352. As a proof of the costliness of this raised needlework, we may quote the following entry found in the Issues of the Exchequer: ‘To William Mugge, chaplain of the King’s Chapel at Windsor, in money paid to Thomas Cheiner, of London, in discharge of 140l. lately due to him for a vest of velvet embroidered with divers work, purchased by him for the chaplain aforesaid.’ (24 Edward III.)
The higher nobility seem to have had their special embroiderers. There was certainly a court craftsman of this kind. An act of the first year of Edw. IV. speaks of ‘oure Glasier, Messagiers of oure Exchequer, Browderer, Plumber, Joynour, Maker of Arrows within the Toure of London,’ &c. (Rot. Parl. Edward IV.)
353. An act, elsewhere referred to, passed in the first year of Edward IV., mentions among others the ‘Keper of oure Armour in the Toure of London, maker of Poyntes, Constable of oure Castell or Lordship of Hadleigh,’ etc.—Rot. Parl. Edward IV.
354. ‘Hugh le Ceinter’ was Mayor of Gloucester in the reign of Henry the Third. (Rudder’s Hist. Gloucestershire, p. 113.) ‘Benet Seinturer’ was Sheriff of London in 1216. (Strype.)
355. Under date 1355, Mr. Riley, in his interesting Memorials of London, gives the ‘Articles and Ordinances of the Braelers.’ He also has an account of the burning of some gloves and braels for being of false make and fashion in 1350. (Vide pp. 277 and 249.)
356. And ‘also, every sowtere that maketh shoon of new rothes’ lether,’ etc. (Usages of Winchester. English Guilds, 359.)
357. ‘Item, received of John Bent and John Davies, cordiner, for one pew, iis.’ 1571. (Churchwardens’ Exp. Ludlow, p. 148. Cam. Soc.)
358. In the Mysteries composed for the City Pageant by Randle, a monk of Chester Abbey, in the thirteenth century, a part in it is directed to be sustained by the ‘Corvesters and Shoemakers.’ (Ormerod’s Cheshire, p. 301). In this case we have the strictly speaking Saxon feminine termination appended to a Norman word. I have found three ‘Shoemakers.’ ‘Harry Shomaker’ was an attendant of the Princess Mary (1542). (Privy Purse Expenses, p. 2.) ‘Christopher Shoomaker’ was burnt at Newbury (1518), whose story is related by Foxe. The name seems to have lingered on till the close of the xviiith cent., for it is found in St. Anne’s register, Manchester, in 1781, as ‘Showmaker:’ ‘Mary, wife of John Showmaker, buried Aug. 26, 1781.’ This spelling reminds me of an entry in the Household of Princess Elizabeth, Cam. Soc.:—‘Robert Waterman for showing (shoeing) xviis.’ (p. 29.)
’And that the corvesers bye ther lether in the seid Gild-halle.’ (Ordinances of Worcester, English Guilds, 371).
359. Another form of the name and occupation is met with in the Corp. Christi Guild, York, in the case of ‘Robert Patener, et Mariona uxor ejus’ (W. ii.).
360. ‘John Rykedon, patynmaker,’ occurs in the Patent Rolls (R.R., 1).
361. It is evidently in a depreciatory sense that Bishop Latimer in one of his sermons makes use of this word, while his very employment of it shows how familiar was its meaning as a term of occupation, even in the sixteenth century. He says, speaking of a certain bishop, ‘There stood by him a dubber, one Doctor Dubber: he dubbed him by-and-by, and said,’ &c. Second Sermon before Edward VI.
362. The word was evidently in familiar use. Thus in the will of one William Askame, dated 1390, it is said, ‘Item, Margaretæ prenticiæ Willielmi Askham do et lego a fedir bedd and i matras, ii shetes and a coverlet, i bacyn and i laver, and a bras potte and volette of crysp. Item Johannæ Dagh crisp volet and a chalon.’—Test. Ebor., vol. i. p. 130. (Surt. Soc.)
’And that no chalon of ray, or other chalon, shall be made, if it be not of the ancient lawful assize, ordained by the good folks of the trade.’ (Ext. from Ordinances of the Tapicers, Riley’s London, p. 179.)
‘Also, non of the Citee ne shal don werche qwyltes ne chalouns withoute the walles of the Citee (i.e. Winchester).’ (English Guilds, p. 351.)
The Chaloner is styled the ‘Chaloun-makyere’ in this ordinance.
363. In the Guild of St. George, Norwich, 1385, is mentioned the name of ‘Geoffrey Bedwevere.’ He would be either a quilter, or one of those artisans alluded to by Cocke Lorelle.
‘Fyners, plummers, and peuters,
Bedmakers, fedbedmakers, and wyredrawers.’
364. I find several writers speaking (Mr. Riley among them) as if the upholder was simply an undertaker. He may have been this, but it is evident it was but a subordinate branch of his occupation. We find in 1445 a certain ‘Richard Upholder’ appraising the bedroom furniture of James Hedyan, the Principal of ‘Eagle Hall.’ (Mun. Acad. Oxon., p. 544.)
365. The ordinances for the Guild of St. Katharine, Lynn, are signed by ‘Peter Tapeser.’—English Guilds, p. 68. (E. E. Text Soc.)
The following entry from the Exchequer Issues will give the reader a fair idea of the work that came under the tapiser’s hands:—‘To John Flessh, tapestry maker. In money paid to him for a side cushion, or carpet, a bench, and five cushions worked with the king’s arms... to be placed about, and hung at the back of the king’s justice seats of his common bench within Westminster Hall.’—14 Henry VI.
366. It is only right to say that there seems to have been a term ‘coucher’ to imply one who resided in certain towns for purposes of trade of a somewhat doubtful character. In this sense it was but a French sobriquet, meaning in English ‘a lurker.’ A statute of Edward III. concerning the prices of wine and their import speaks of ‘Cochoures Engleys’ (English couchers, or lurkers), living in Rochelle, Bordeaux, etc., who traded in wines. The tenor of the allusion to them, however, is such that we could hardly expect them to be represented openly in an English pageant.
367. An old Yorkshire will, dated 1383, contains the following bequest: ‘To John Couper, a docer, and a new banaquer (a seat-cover) and ij cochyns (cushions).’ (Surtees Soc.)
368. Beatrice ap Rice, laundress to Princess Mary (daughter of Henry VIII.), is always set down as ‘Mistress Launder.’ ‘Item, paid for 2 lb. of starche for Mts Launder, viiid.’ (Privy Purse Expenses, p. 160.)
369. The ordinances of the Guild of the Purification, Bishop’s Lynn, 1367, are signed by ‘Johannes Austyn, Baxter.’ (English Guilds, p. 90.)
Capgrave, under date 205 B.C., says, ‘In this same tyme lyved the eloquent man which hite (was called) Plautus, and for al his eloquens he was compelled for to dwel with a Baxter, and grinde his corn at a querne.’
370. The curious name of ‘Sara le Bredemongestere’ occurs in the ‘London Memorials’ (Riley).
371. It is in this more general sense we find the word used in our present Authorized Version. Thus in Lev. ii. 4, it is said: ‘And if thou bring an oblation of a meat offering baken in the oven, it shall be unleavened cakes of fine flour mingled with oil, or unleavened wafers anointed with oil.’—‘Pay to Ralph Crast the waferer, 40s. of our gift.’ (‘Issues of Exchequer,’ 26 Henry III.)
372. This corruption seems to have early become the accepted one. A John Flanner entered C.C. Col., Cambridge, in 1649. (Hist. C.C. Coll.). In 1641 another John Flanner was Rector of Kilverstone. (Hist. Norf., I. 546.)
373. Since writing the above I have found a ‘William Buttyrman’ in the Test. Ebor., vol. iii., Surtees Soc., but I can discover no trace of its continuance beyond its immediate possessor.
374. The Hundred Rolls furnish us with the local ‘Adam del Cheshus,’ i.e., Cheese-house. He would be connected with some country dairy or city store-room. The name is formed like ‘Malthus,’ from ‘Malt-house,’ or ‘Loftus,’ from ‘Loft-house.’
375. In the country, and more north, we shall scarcely find the term to have made any way till even the fifteenth century. In the York Pageant which occurred in 1415, and was supposed to represent, as a survey of its programme shows it evidently did, every trade or occupation that could claim the slightest right to attention, we do not find it having a place. The ‘Spicers’ and ‘Sauce-makers’ are prominent, however, and they, no doubt, even then were upholding the interests of the trade which by-and-by was to go under this new sobriquet.
376. ‘Joan Sausemaker’ occurs in the Corpus Christi Guild, York.
377. ‘John Nutmaker’ gave to a loan upon Middlesex in 1463. (Vide Scobell’s Declarations of Parl., 429.) This name has troubled me much. Halliwell has ‘nut,’ a term for sweet-bread in the eastern counties. Failing this, I can only suggest ‘nutmegger,’ and place it among those set down in the text.
378. We are all familiar with the old adage,
‘After dinner sit awhile,
After supper walk a mile’:
it often used to puzzle me that this last line, while speaking from a medical point of view, should so calmly give up the general question as to whether suppers were or were not advisable as a part of the domestic régime. When we remember, however, that the couplet doubtless arose in a day when dinner was at twelve and supper at five or six, we can better understand its intent.
379. William Fleshmonger, D.C.L., was Dean of Chichester in 1528. (Hist. Univ. Oxford. Ackermann, p. 154.)
‘Also, the usage of fleshemongeres ys swych, that everych fleshemongere’ not a freman shall pay 25d. a year to the King if he have a stall. (Usages of Winchester. English Gilds, 354.)
380. The following list in one of our early statutes will help to familiarize the reader’s mind with some of these mediæval Latinisms:
‘Item, sallarii, pelletarii, allutarii, sutores, cissores, fabri, carpentarii, cementarii, tegularii, batellarii, carectarii, et quicunque alii artifices non capiant pro labore et artificio suo,’ etc.
‘Item, quod carnifices, piscenarii, hostellarii, braciatores, pistores, pulletarii et omnes alii venditores victualium teneantur hujus-modi victualia vendere,’ etc. [Stat. of Realm, vol. 1. p. 308.)
The first list refers to the ‘saddlers, skinners, whitetawyers, shoemakers, taylors, wrights, carpenters, masons, tylers, boatwrights, and carters;’ the second to the ‘butchers, fishmongers, taverners, brewers, bakers, and poulterers.’ With regard to the ‘Carnifex’ we may add that among other items of expenditure belonging to Edw. I.’s Queen at Cawood is mentioned ‘expensa duorum carnificum eosdem boves emencium.’
381. ‘Egeas Fisher, or Pessoner,’ was Mayor of Gloucester in 1241. (Rudder’s Gloucestershire, p. 113.) ‘Ralf le Pecimer’ was bailiff of Norwich in 1239. (Blomefield, iii. 58.) This is a manifest corruption of Pessoner.
382. That this is the real origin of this name may be proved by 1 James I. c. xxiii., which is entitled an ‘Acte for the better preservation of Fishinge in the Counties of Somersett, Devon, and Cornwall, and for the relief of Balkers, Conders, and Fishermen against malicious suites.’ In it too is found the following: ‘And whereas also for the necessarie use of the takinge of the said Herring... divers persons... called Balcors, Huors, Condors, Directors, or Guidors, at the fishing tymes... tyme out of mynde have used to watch and attend upon the high hilles and grounde near adjoining to the sea coast... for the discoverie and givinge notice to the fisherman,’ etc. (Stat. of Realm.)
383. ‘Lawrence Beerbrewer’ occurs in a Norfolk register. (Hist. Norf. iv. 357.) ‘Lambert Beerbrewer’ was one of the Corp. Christi Guild, York. (Surt. Soc.)
384. ‘Malter’ I have failed to discover in our archives, but ‘Aleyn le Maltestere’ and ‘Hugh le Maltmakere’ are both found. On the other hand, while I have no feminine ‘Tapster’ to adduce, I have hit upon ‘Robert le Tappere’ and ‘John le Tapper’ in two separate records.
385. A curious name is found in the St. Edmund’s Guild, Bishop’s Lynn, the ordinances of which are signed by ‘Johannes Mashemaker’ (English Guilds, p. 96), evidently a maker of mash-vats or of the mashel, i.e., the rudder used for mixing the malt. (v. Maschel Pr. Par.)
386. Another proof of this is contained in the fact that in all allusions in our olden ordinances to false dealings in the brewing and sale of ale the punishment affixed is that of the tumbrel, the instrument for women, corresponding to the pillory for men. I would not be mistaken. I cannot doubt but that malster, tapster, baxter, webster, and kempster were feminine occupations, and arose first in these forms as such. But in the xivth century the distinction between ‘er’ and ‘ster’ was dropped through the Norman-French ‘ess’ becoming the popular termination. As ‘ess’ became still more strongly imbedded in the language, ‘ster’ came into but more irregular use, and by the time of Elizabeth men spoke of ‘drugster,’ ‘teamster,’ ‘rhymster,’ ‘whipster,’ ‘trickster,’ ‘gamester.’ (English Accidence, p. 90.) That this confusion was marked even in the earlier part of the xivth century, not to say the close of the xiiith, is clearly proved by such registered names as ‘Thatcher’ and ‘Thaxter,’ ‘Palliser’ and ‘Pallister,’ ‘Hewer’ and ‘Hewster,’ ‘Begger’ and ‘Beggister,’ ‘Blacker’ (bleacher) and ‘Blaxter,’ ‘Dyer’ and ‘Dyster,’ ‘Whiter’ and ‘Whitster,’ ‘Corviser’ and ‘Corvester,’ and ‘Bullinger,’ or ‘Billinger,’ and ‘Billingster.’ An old statute of Ed. III. (Statute Realm, 1, 380) mentions ‘filesters,’ ‘throwsters,’ and ‘brawdesters;’ and Dr. Morris quotes ‘bellringster,’ ‘hoardster,’ and ‘washster.’ These latter are xiith and xiiith century words, and were strictly confined to women.
387. I find the term used occupatively once. Cocke Lorelle speaks of
‘Spynsters, carders, and cappe-knytters.’
388. ‘Juliana Rokster’ occurs in an old record of 1388 (R.R. 2). The ‘rock’ was the old distaff. (Vide p. 74, note 2.)
389. ‘Edmund le Tonder’ was bailiff of Norwich, 1237.
390. The bailiff of Gloucester, in the year 1300, was ‘Robert L’espicer, or Apothecary.’ (Rudder’s Gloucestershire, p. 114.)
391. We have a similar curtailment in our ‘Prentices’ or ‘Prentis’s’ (relics of ‘William le Prentiz’ or ‘Nicholas Apprenticius’) a name of the most familiar import at the time of which we are speaking. Chaucer begins his ‘Cook’s Tale’ by saying—
‘A prentis whilom dwelt in our citee,
And of a craft of vitaillers was he.’
In the early days of national commerce and industry, when the jealousy of foreign craftsmen was at its height, the prentice boys showed themselves on various occasions a formidable body, capable of arousing riots and tumults of the most serious character.
392. Early Eng. Text Soc., Extra Series, vol. viii. p. 6.
393. The surname of ‘Shaver’ was not unknown then as now. ‘Jeffery Schavere’ was rector of Fincham, Norfolk, in 1409 (Blomefield). ‘Henry Shavetail,’ an evident nickname, occurs in the Patent Rolls (R.R.1).
394. In a popular poem of Henry the Eighth’s time mention is made of—
‘Harpemakers, leches, and upholdsters,
Porters, fesycyens, and corsers.’
395. Johannes Thurton, Candelere. (Guild of St. George, Norwich.)
396. Thus we find in an indenture of Henry the Seventh’s reign it is said at the close: ‘And over this oure said Souveraigne Lorde graunteth by these presents to the said Abbas and Convent that they shall have as well this present Indenture as all other grauntes necessary,... wythout eny fyne, fee, or other thyng to hym orto his use in his Chauncerie, or Hanapore, or other place to be payde.’ (Stat. of Realm, vol. ii. p. 671.)
397. Vide Way’s Prompt Parv., p. 124.
398. Thus the author of Cocke Lorelle’s Bote refers to—
‘Yermongers, pybakers, and waferers,
Fruyters, chesemongers, and mynstrelles.’
399. ‘There dwelled also turners of beads, and they were paternoster-makers’ (Stow, iii. 174). The term was evidently very general.
400. ‘Founders, laten-workers, and broche-makers.’ (Cocke Lorelle’s Bote.)
401. A law passed in the first year of Richard II. forbids halfpennies and farthings to be melted for vessels or other things, on pain of forfeiting the money so melted and the imprisonment of the founder—‘surpeine de forfaitre del monoie founder et imprisonement del foundour.’ (Stat. Realm.) The ‘founder,’ as his name implies, melted down the metal, and then poured it (fundere) into the mould. We still speak familiarly of a foundry; but the term ‘founder’ as a worker therein is now, I believe, obsolete. Such names, however, as ‘Robert le Fundour’ or ‘John le Funder,’ whose descendants are still with us, show that this was once in common use. As an additional proof that they were formerly more distinctively engaged in the manufacture of pots and vessels, we may state that in the York Pageant, elsewhere spoken of, the ‘Pewterers’ and ‘Founders’ marched together. Speaking of ‘Founder,’ we are reminded of ‘Alefounder.’ In 1374 William Alefounder was Rector of Bichamwell. (Hist. Norf., vii. 295.) The alefounder took his name from his duty as an inspector, appointed by the Court Leet, of assizing and supervising the brewing of malt liquor. He examined it as it was poured out. Thus ‘fundere,’ and not ‘fundare,’ is its root. Another name he bore was that of ‘ale-conner.’ A poem of James the First’s reign says—
‘A nose he had that gan show,
What liquor he loved I trow;
For he had before long “seven yeare,
Been of the towne the ale-conner.”’
402. The following entry appears in the Issues of Exchequer:—’20l. paid to John le Discher, of London, for him and his companions to provide plates, dishes, and saltsellers for the coronation.’ (1 Ed. II.)
403. As an illustration of the use to which the art of working in pewter was put, we may instance one of the ‘Richmondshire Wills’ in which the following articles of this mixture are bequeathed: ‘iij basyns, ij uers, one doson plait trenchers, one brode charger, iiij potigers, xxtie platters, x dishes, and vj sausers.’ (Surtees Soc.)
404. We find this now well-known surname thus spelt in a statute passed in Elizabeth’s reign, in which are included the ‘lynnen-weaver, turner, cowper, millers, earthen-potters.’ (5 Eliz. c. iv. 23.)
405. In the Issues of the Exchequer we find a ‘Ric. le Cuver’ at one time providing three buckets, and at another working with other eight carpenters upon the outer chamber of the King’s Court. (43 Henry III.)
406. ‘John Busheler’ occurs in Valor. Eccles. Henry VIII. He probably made the old bushel measure, once in common use. ‘Is a candle bought to be put under a bushel?’ (Mark iv. 26.)
407. Mr. Way, in his valuable series of notes to the Promptorium Parvulorum, quotes a later Wicklyffite version, in which the ‘basket of bulrushes’ in which Moses was placed is termed ‘a leep of segg’ (sedge). An old list of words which he also quotes has ‘a lepe maker, cophinarius.’ (Cath. Ang.) I mention this latter especially, as I have not been able so far to light upon any instance of the sobriquet. I have no hesitation in saying, however, that if ‘Leaper’ and ‘Leapman’ be not manufacturers, they have, at any rate, as fish-sellers, originated from the same root. ’And thei eeten and weren fulfilled, and thei taken up that that lefte of relifs sevene leepis.’ (Matt. viii. 8. Wicklyffe.)
408. Thus in the Trevelyan papers (Cam. Soc.) we frequently come across such a record as the following: ‘Item, to Edmund Peckham, coferer of the Kinge’s House for th’expenses and charges, etc.’
409. The list of tradesmen in Cock Lorelle’s Bote includes—
‘Pype-makers, wode-mongers, and orgyn-makers,
Coferers, carde-makers, and carvers.’
410. An Act of Edward VI. relative to the buying of tanned leather speaks of the ‘mysterie of Coriar (currier), Cordewainer, Sadler, Cobler, Girdler, Lether-seller, Bottelmaker.’ (3 and 4 Ed. VI. c. 6.)
411. ‘William le Orbater’ (goldbeater) is also found in the Hundred Rolls.
412. A ‘Bartholomew le Tableter’ is also found in the ‘Memorials of London’ (Riley). The date being the same or nearly the same as that of ‘Bartholomew le Tabler’ inscribed in the Parliamentary Writs for the capital, we may feel assured both are one and the same person.
413. ‘And thei bikenyden to his fadir, that he wolde that he were clepid. And he axinge a poyntel wrote seiynge Jon is his name.’ (Luke i. 63. Wicklyffe.)
414. I have since discovered another instance of this name—‘To Bartholomew le Orologius, after the arrival of William de Pikewell, 23 gallons.’ 1286 (Domesday Book, St. Paul’s, Cam. Soc.).
415. ‘Imprimis Thomæ Clokmaker for makyng of the sail when it was broken, viiis.’ 1428 (Pro. Ord. Privy Council).
416. Stowe and Strype, however, while aware of the corruption, were both ignorant of its meaning. Speaking of the woodmongers, the former says, ‘Whether some of these woodmongers were called ‘Billiters’ from dealing in billets I leave to conjecture. In the register of wills, London, mention is made of one William Burford, billeytere.’ (ii. p. 226.) The Woodmongers were sellers of fuel. ‘Robert Wudemonger’ is found in the H.R.
417. I may quote a statement recorded of Congham Manor. ‘In 1349 Thomas de Baldeswell presented to the church aforesaid, as chief lord of this fee; in 1367, Adam Humphrey, of Refham, and in 1385, but soon after, in 1388, Adam Pyk; and in 1400, Edmund Belytter, alias Belzeter, who with his parceners,’ &c. (Hist. Norf., viii. 383.) The said Edmund is also met with elsewhere as ‘Belleyeter’ and Belyetter.’
418. Another ‘Ralph Balancer’ was sheriff of London in 1316.
419. This weight was abolished in 1351, and the balance made universal. ‘Item, whereas great damage and deceit is done to the people by a weight which is called Auncel (par une pois qu’est appelle Aunsell), it is accorded and established that this weight called Auncel betwixt buyers and sellers shall be wholly put out, and that every person do sell and buy by the balance.’ (Stat. Realm, vol. i. p. 321.) Cowell, in his Interpreter, suggests as the origin of the term ‘auncel’ handsale, that is, that which is weighed by the poised hand!
420. Another form is found in 1389. William Parchmenter was seized for holding independent views of the Sacraments. (Nicholls’ Leicester.)
421. In the Exchequer Issues we find the following:—‘To John Heth, one of the clerks in the office of privy seal of the Lord the King, in money, paid to his own hands, in discharge of 66s. which the said Lord the King, with the assent of his Council, commanded to be paid to the said John, for 66 great “quaternes” of calf skins, purchased and provided by the said John to write a Bible thereon for the use of the said King.’ In an old Oxford indenture between the University and the Town, dated 1459, we find the more usual ‘parchemener’ spelt ‘pergemener.’ The agreement includes ‘Alle Bedels with dailly servants, and their householdes, alle stacioners, alle bokebynders, lympners, wryters, pergemeners, barbours, the bellerynger of the universitie,’ &c. (Mun. Acad. Oxon., p. 346.)
422. Another ordinance has the following:—‘And that all Jews shall dwell in the Kings own cities and boroughs, where the chests of chirographs of Jewry are wont to be’ (‘ou les Whuches (hutches) cirograffes de Geuerie soleient estre’). [Stat. of Realm, vol. i. p. 221.)
423. ‘Nicholas Cotes, lummer.’ (Corpus Christi Guild, York.)
424. In the Mun. Acad. Oxon., p. 550, we find a quarrel settled by the Chancellor between ‘John Conaley, lymner,’ and ‘John Godsend, stationarius.’ Through him it is arranged that the former shall occupy himself in ‘liminando bene et fideliter libros suos.’ In the York Pageant the ‘Escriveners’ and ‘Lumners’ went together.
425. Thus in Kaye’s description of the siege of Rhodes it is said: ‘Anone after that the Rhodians had knowledge of thees werkes a shipman wel experte in swymmyng, wente by nyghte and cutted the cordes fro’ the ancre.’
426. In the Itinerarium of Richard I. we find it recorded that while the Christians were besieging Acre Saladin’s army began to hem them in. ‘In hoc itaque articulo positos visitavit eos Oriens exalto; nam ecce! quinquagintas naves, quas vulgo coggas dicunt, cum duodecim millibus armatorum, tanto gratias venerunt quanto nostris auxilium in angustia majore rependunt.’—p. 64. The Cog was evidently in common use as a transport. To judge from the following entries, it was, in some cases, at any rate, of considerable size:—‘Henrico Aubyn, magistro coge Sancti Marie, et 39 sociis suis nautis, 23l. 12s. 6d.’ ‘Thomo de Standanore, magistro coge Sancti Thomæ, et 39 sociis suis, 23l. 12s. 6d.’ (Ed. I. Wardrobe.)
427. ‘Benjamin Cogman’ occurs in an old Norfolk register. Hence ‘Cockman,’ like ‘Cocker,’ may in some instance belong to this more seafaring occupation.
428. ‘John Shipgroom’ occurs in the Rot. Orig. (G.); ‘John Shypward’ in Cal. Rot. Chartarum (D.); and ‘Alexander Schipward’ in Rolls of Parl. (H.).
429. ‘Richard Drawater’ (A.) would be a nickname.
430. This word ‘lead’ is worthy of some extended notice. We still speak of a path leading our steps to a place, but we scarcely now would say that we lead our steps to it. Shakespeare, however, does so, where Richard III. addresses Elizabeth—
‘Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul
Leads discontented steps in foreign soil.’
Several commentators on Shakespeare have proposed ‘treads’ in the place of ‘leads,’ not knowing, seemingly, how familiar was this sense of carrying or bearing in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. A century earlier the Malvern Dreamer says—
‘And maketh of Lyere a lang cart
To leden all these othere:’
while just before he writes—
‘And cart-saddle the commissarie,
Oure cart shall he lede
And fecchen us vitailles.’
In North Yorkshire to this very day they do very little carting. They all but invariably ‘lead hay,’ ‘lead corn,’ etc. An old form of ‘lead’ was ‘lode.’ We still talk of a ‘lode-stone.’ This explains such an entry as ‘Emma le Lodere’ or ‘Agnes le Lodere.’ They were both doubtless ‘leaders’ or ‘carriers,’ that is, wandering hucksters.
431. ‘Item, that all wines, red and white, which shall come unto the said realm shall be well and lawfully gauged by the King’s Gaugers, or their deputies’ (‘bien et loialment gaugez par le gaujeour le Roi, ou son deputé.’). (Stat. of Realm, vol. i. p. 331.)
432. An epitaph in St. Anthony’s, London, dated 1400, says of the deceased that he was—
‘The King’s weigher more than yeres twentie,
Simon Street, callyd in my place.’
(Maitland, ii. 375.)
433. The local form is found in the case of ‘Jeffery Talbothe,’ a Norfolk Rector in 1371. (Blomefield). The ‘receipt of custom’ is with Wickliffe the ‘tolbothe.’
434. Skelton seems of the same mind as the author of Cocke Lorelle.
‘So many lollers,
So few true tollers,
So many pollers,
Saw I never.’
435. I need not remind the majority of my readers of the origin of our term ‘lumber room,’ that it is but a corruption of lombard-room, or the chamber in which the mediæval pawnbroker stored up all his pledges. Hence we now speak of any useless cumbrous articles as ‘lumber.’
436. Mr. Halliwell gives ‘chevisance,’ an agreement, and ‘chevish,’ to bargain. Mr. Way commenting on ‘chevystyn,’ quotes Fabyan as saying—‘I will assaye to have hys Erldom in morgage, for welle I knowe he must chevyche for money to perfourme that journey.’ Mr. Wright’s Glossary to Piers Plowman has ‘chevysaunce, an agreement for borrowing money.’ The word often occurs in mediæval writers, and no wonder at least one surname arose as a consequence.
437. An act of Richard II. speaks of officers and ministers made by brocage, and of their broggers, and of them that have taken the said brocage, ‘pour brogage, et de lor broggers, et de,’ etc.
438. I use this phrase as the most convenient. I shall have to record many descriptive compounds under every separate division, but it is the most suited for my purpose, and will embrace all the more eccentric nicknames that I have met with in my researches, especially those made up of verb and substantive, a practice which opened out a wide field for the inventive powers of our forefathers.
439. ‘Lease to Thomas Unkle of a wood within the manor of Bolynbroke, Nov. 30, 1485.’ (Materials for Hist. Henry VII. 593 p.)
440. The English form of Guido was commonly Wydo—hence such entries as ‘Wydo Wodecok,’ or ‘William fil. Wydo.’ Thus, as I have already said, ‘Widowson’ may be a patronymic.
441. The curious name of ‘John Orphan-strange’ is found in a Cambridge register for 1544. (Hist. C.C. Coll. Cam.) Doubtless he had been a foundling.
442. Some Norman-French terms of relationship have been translated, resulting in names of utterly different sense. Thus Beaupere, a stepfather, has become ‘Fairsire;’ ‘Beaufils,’ a step-son (still surviving in Boffill), ‘Fairchild’; and ‘Beaufrere,’ a step-brother, ‘Fairbrother,’ or ‘Farebrother.’
443. ‘Adam de Halfnaked’ (H.), ‘Adam de Halnaked’ (M.).
444. The Hundred Rolls have a ‘Henry Mucklebone.’
445. ‘Lusty,’ ‘Fat,’ and ‘Stout’ evidently were not expressive enough for some of our forefathers, to judge by such entries as ‘Henry Pudding,’ ‘William Broadgirdel,’ or ‘Joan Broad-belt.’ The last still lives.
446. Epitaph on William Younger, Rector of Great-Melton, deceased March 6th, 1661, ætat. 57—
‘Younger he was by name, but not in grace,
Elder than he, in this, must give him place.’
(Hist. of Norfolk, vol. v. p. 13.) ‘Youngerman’ may be seen over a shop in Cheetham Hill Road, Manchester.
447. ‘Littler’ and ‘littlest’ were once the common degrees of comparison. Shakespeare uses the superlative. Mr. Halliwell gives the Norfolk dialect a large range. Besides ‘less’ and ‘least’ he adds ‘lesser’ and ‘lessest,’ ‘lesserer’ and ‘lesserest,’ ‘lesserer still’ and ‘lessest of all,’ and ‘littler’ and ‘littlest.’
448. The former ‘Haut,’ that is, high or tall, is obsolete, I think. ‘Robert le Haut’ is met with in a Norfolk register. (Hist. Norf., Index.)
449. It is curious to compare local registers with local dictionaries. Thus the Promptorium Parvulorum gives as a familiar Norfolk term in the fourteenth century, ‘craske, fryke of fatte,’ or ‘lusty,’ as we should now say. This crask was a vulgar form of the French ‘cras’ (Latin, ‘crassus’). Turning to our registers, we find that while our ‘Crass’s’ are found in our more general rolls as ‘Richard le Cras’ or ‘John le Cras’ or ‘Stephen Crassus,’ our ‘Crasks’ must go to a Norfolk entry for a ‘Walter le Crask.’ (Vide Hist. Norfolk, Index. Blomefield.)
450. ‘Robert Manekin,’ A. Nevertheless this is a baptismal name also with the diminutive ‘kin’ appended. ‘Manekyn le Heaumer,’ H.
451. ‘To make a mow’ was to put on a mocking expression. The word was once very familiar, though rarely used now. Bishop Bradford, speaking of the Romish priesthood, says—‘They never preach forth the Lord’s death but in mockery and mows.’ (Parker Soc., p. 395.) Mow has no relation to mouth.
452. ‘William Malregard’ (T.), or ‘Geoffrey Malreward’ (T.), i.e. Evil-eye, would not possess enviable sobriquets, but the name lingered on for several centuries.
453. ‘John Monoculus’ occurs in Memorials of Fountains Abbey.
454. A ‘William Blackhead’ entered C. C. Coll. Cam. in 1669, and a ‘Thomas Hardhede’ in 1467. (Hist. C. C. Coll.)
455. The Abbot of Leicester in 1474 was one ‘John Sheepshead.’ ‘William Sheepshead’ is also mentioned in the Index to Nicholls’ Leicester.
456. We must not forget, however, that ‘swier’ is early found as a provincialism for ‘squier,’ so that it may be referred in some cases to that once important officer. (v. p. 199.)
457. ‘Guy le Armerecte’ (A.) would seem to be a Latinization of the name.
458. ‘Henry Langbane’ occurs in the list of the Corpus Christi Guild, York. (Surt. Soc.)
459. I see ‘Catterman’ also exists. This is early faced by ‘Richard Catermayn’ (H.).
460. Robert Pettifer was Sheriff of Gloucester in 1603. (Rudder’s Gloucestershire, p. 116.)
461. The famous old surname of ‘Ironsides’ is found so late as 1754, the Lord Mayor of London for that year being ‘Edward Ironside.’ The Bishop of Bristol in 1689 was ‘Gilbert Ironside.’ His father, ‘Gilbert Ironside,’ preceded him in the same see.
462. ‘Antony Knebone’ (Z.). This would seem to belong to a similar class.
463. ‘Leg’ did not come into use till the beginning of the xiiith century, when it was imported from Norway. ‘Shank,’ as the various compound sobriquets found below will fully prove, did duty.
464. Mr. Halliwell quotes the following couplet from an old manuscript:
‘Hir one schanke blak hir other graye,
A nd all her body like the lede.’—(Dic. I. 1.)
465. ‘Gerald Bushanke’ (A.). This might be ‘Beau-shank,’ and therefore equivalent to ‘Bellejambe,’ but such an admixture of languages is not likely. We still speak of ‘bow-leg,’ and this is the more probable origin.
466. Swift, however, is not the only courier’s sobriquet preserved to us. ‘In the Countess of Leicester’s service were several whose real names were sunk in titles ridiculously descriptive of their qualities. “Slingaway,” the learned editor of the Household Roll, has pointed out, he might have added “Gobithestie” (go a bit hasty) and “Bolett” (bullet), so denominated from their speed, and “Truebodie” (true body) from his fidelity. These were all couriers.’ (Hous. Exp. Bish. Swinfield, p. 143.)
467. ‘C. P. Golightly,’ ‘Thomas Golightly.’ Vide Clergy List, 1848, and other directories.
468. I have mentioned ‘Matilda Finger’ (H.). I do not find any ‘Toe’ in our Directories, but ‘Peter Pricktoe’ (M.) and ‘Thomas Pinchshu’ (A.) existed in the xivth century.
469. Accidents of this kind naturally became sobriquets, and then surnames. Hence such entries as ‘William Crypling’ (A.), ‘William Onhand’ (B.), ‘John Onehand’ (D.), or ‘John Handless’ (W. 11). ‘John Gouty’ (V. 1) represents a still troublesome complaint, and may be mentioned here.
470. ‘Jordan le Madde’ occurs in the Placita de Quo Warranto.
471. ‘William Whitehand’ is set down in the C. C. Coll. records for 1665. (Hist. C. C. Coll. Cam.) ‘Humbert Blanchmains’ is found in Nicholls’ Leicestershire.
472. In the Prompt. Parv. we find not merely ‘slyke, or smothe,’ but ‘slykeston.’ The slick or sleek stone was used for smoothing linen or paper; vide Mr. Way’s note thereon, p. 458. ‘The eban stone which goldsmiths used to sleeken their gold with,’ etc. (Burton’s Anatomy.)
473. Thus ‘Bell’ comes into three categories—the local, the baptismal, and the sobriquet, represented in our registers by three such entries as ‘John atte Bell’ (X.), ‘Richard fil. Bell’ (A.), and ‘Walter le Bel’ (G.).
474. ‘Katharine Prettyman’ (Z.), ‘William Prettiman’ (F.F.). The name still flourishes, and as ‘Miss Prettiman’ figures in the Caudle Lectures.
475. ‘Nutbrown’ is found in several early records, and existed till 1630 at least. ‘George Nutbrowne was sworne the same daye pistler, and Nathaniel Pownell, gospeller.’ (Cheque Bk., Chapel Royal (Cam. Soc.), p. 12.)
476. ‘White’ and ‘Grissel’ are combined in ‘Anne Griselwhite,’ a name occurring in an old Norfolk register. (Vide Index, Hist. Norfolk, Blomefield.)
477. ‘Thomas Pock-red’ in the Hundred Rolls would not be acceptable.
478. ‘Blanchfront’ seems to have been common, as I find it in three distinct registers. ‘Joan Blaunkfrount,’ a nun of Molseby. (Letters from Northern Registers, p. 319.) ‘Philip Blanchfront’ (F. F.), ‘Amabil Blanchfront.’ (Fines, Ric. i.)
479. It was in the house of a Josias Roughead, of Bedford, that John Bunyan was first licensed to preach in 1672.
480. ‘Richard Flaxennehed’ occurs in the Hundred Rolls.
481. ‘Antony Wiselheade’ is registered in Elizabeth’s reign in the Calendar to Pleadings.
482. ‘William Whiteheare’ was Dean of Bristol, 1551. (Barrett, Hist. Bristol.)
483. ‘1522, 31 Dec. To Mr. William Farehaire, Doctor of Laws.’ (Letters of Fraternity (Durham Priory), p. 119. Surt. Soc.)
Names like ‘William Harebrown,’ ‘Ralph Lightred,’ and ‘John Litewhyte’ seem to belong to the same category with the above.
484. Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, says, ‘Apollonius will have Jason’s golden hair to be the main cause of Medea’s dotage on him. Castor and Pollux were both yellow-haired. Homer so commends Helen, makes Patroclus and Achilles both yellow-haired; Pulchricoma Venus, and Cupid himself was yellow-haired.’
485. This sobriquet, as old as the Hundred Rolls, is found in the xviith cent., at Durham. ‘Peter Blackbeard’ was ‘brought up for not paying Easter reckonings, 1676.’ (Dean Granville’s Letters, p. 235.)
486. A contributor to Notes and Queries, Jan. 14, 1860, quotes an old Ipswich record in which is mentioned an ‘Alexander Redberd’ dwelling there in the early part of the sixteenth century.
487. ‘John Brounberd, son of William, a hostage from Galloway.’
(Letters from Northern Registers, p. 163.)
‘Janet Brounebeard’ was an inmate of St. Thomas’s Hospital, York, February 6, 1553. (W. 11, p. 304.)
488. I find this name still exists as ‘Pickavant.’ It may be seen over a boot and shoe warehouse by the Railway Station at Southport, Lancashire. Probably ‘Pickance’ is an abbreviated form. ‘Charles, son of Daniel and Eliza Pickance, bapt. March 26, 1754.’ (St. Ann’s, Manchester.)
489. Many of my readers will be familiar with the sobriquet ‘nottpated,’ which Shakespeare puts in Prince Henry’s mouth several times.
490. ‘Calvus protests for foes he doth not care;
For why? They cannot take from him one hair.’
(Satyrical Epigrams, 1619.)
491. The Athenæum thinks the more manifest origin is the local ‘peel,’ a small fortress used by Chaucer in the House of Fame—
‘God save the lady of this pele.’
I was not ignorant of the word, but as I could not find any examples in the old rolls, I gave the preference to the nickname. I have since met with an entry which justifies the Athenæum’s remark: ‘1605, Nov. 14, Rodger of ye Peele.’ Also, ‘1621, July 10, Robarte Rodley, of ye Peele in Chetham.’ (Memorials of Manchester Streets, p. 282.)
492. ‘John Lytlehare’ occurs in a Norfolk register. Query, is it meant for ‘Littlehair’? Probably it is. (Blomefield’s Norfolk.) ‘Simon Lytehare’ (lyte = little) is found in the Parl. Writs. ‘Richard le Herprute’ occurs in the H.R. The modern form would be ‘Hairproud.’
493. ‘Plunket’ was in early use as a perversion of ‘blanket.’ Thus a statute of Richard III. relating to this stuff calls it ‘plonket.’ The form in the Prompt. Parv. is ‘plunket;’ and Mr. Way, commenting upon it, quotes a line from the Awntyrs of Arthure—
‘Hir belte was of plonkete, with birdis fulle baulde.’
494. This was a nickname of Sir Thomas Woodcock, Lord Mayor of London, 1405—
‘Hic jacet, Tom Shorthose,
Sine tomb, sine sheets, sine riches.’
In the neighbourhood of Belper this surname may be commonly met with. Some change of fashion at this date, encouraged by the mayoralty, would readily give rise to the sobriquet in the metropolis. Some country squire or bumpkin carried the new style into Derbyshire, and the Belper people still relate the fact of the grotesque appearance he then made in their eyes by the nom-de-plume that as a necessary consequence arose. ‘Sic est vita nominum.’
495. ‘Agnes Blakmantyll’ (W. 11) occurs in an old York register, 1455, but must have become obsolete with the bearer, I should imagine.
496. ‘John Caury-Maury’ (V. 8) belongs to this class. It was a nickname given to him on account of the exceedingly coarse cloth in which he was attired. In Skelton’s Elynour Rummyng, some slatterns are thus described—
‘Some loke strawry,
Some cawry mawry.’
‘Item, presentatum est quod ‘Johannes Caurymaury,’ ‘Johannes le Fleming,’ ‘Hugo Bunting,’ ‘Isaac de Stanford,’ et Lucas de eadem consueti fuerunt currere cum canibus suis sine warento,’ etc. (Chronicon Petroburgense. Cam. Soc., p. 138.)
497. This may be local.
498. We all remember in ‘Love’s Labour’s Lost’ how Armado, being pressed to fight, refuses to undress, and says: ‘The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance.’
499. One feels much tempted to add ‘Roylance’ to this list. It certainly has a most kingly aspect. Still there can be little doubt that it is but a corruption of ‘Rylands.’
500. I need not stay to point out the early familiar use of ‘yard’ as a stick or staff of any length. In Wicklyffe’s New Testament we find the following:—‘And he seide to hem nothing take ye in the weye—neither yerde, ne scrippe, neither breed, ne money.’ (Luke ix. 3.) Our Authorized Version still preserves the meteyard from obsoletism: ‘Ye shall do no unrighteousness in judgment, in meteyard, in weight, or in measure.’ (Lev. xix. 35.)
501. The horn was carried by the watchman as well as the huntsman and the cryer. ‘Henry Watchorn’ was mayor of Leicester in 1780, and the name occurs in the Nottingham Directory for 1864. Other compounds besides ‘Waghorn’ are ‘Crookhorn,’ ‘Cramphorn’ (i.e., crooked horn), ‘Langhorn’ and ‘Whitehorn.’
502. It was a Captain Waghorn who was tried by court-martial for the wreck of the Royal George, which went down off Portsmouth in 1782. He was acquitted, however.
503. ‘Anne, daughter of Hugh and Elizabeth Shakeshaft, baptized Dec. 6, 1744.’ (St. Ann’s, Register, Manchester.)
504. ‘Robert Go-before’ in the Rolls of Parl. is an evident sobriquet affixed upon some official of this class.
505. ‘John Swyrdebrake,’ alias ‘John Taillour.’
(Materials for Hist. Henry VII., p. 441.)
506. In a list of bankrupts, dated the thirteenth year of Elizabeth, and quoted in Notes and Queries, Jan. 1860, occurs an ‘Anthony Halstaffe,’ doubtless originally ‘Halestaffe,’ from ‘hale,’ to drag, and thus a likely sobriquet for a catchpoll or bailiff.
507. In the biographical notice appended to Archbishop Sandys’ Sermons, published by the Parker Society, we find that one of his friends was called ‘Hurlestone.’ This will be of similar origin with ‘Hurlebat.’ (pp. 13, 14.)
508. ‘Thomas Crakyshield’ was Rector of North Creak in Norfolk in the year 1412. (Hist. Norfolk, vii. 77.)
509. ‘William Ryghtwys’ was Vicar of Fouldon in 1497. (Blomefield’s Norfolk.) ‘Upright’ appeared in a trial at Exeter in October 1874.
510. ‘Make’ was a familiar compound. ‘Joan Make-peace’ was sister to Henry III., and so named by the Scotch through her betrowal to their monarch, by which peace was brought about. Bishop Hall uses the opposite for a quarrelsome fellow—
‘If brabbling Makefray, at each faire and ’size,
Picks quarrels for to show his valiantise.’
‘Julian Make-blisse’ and ‘John Make-blythe’ occur in two separate rolls, and Mr. Lower mentions a ‘Maud Make-joy’ in an old Wardrobe Account: ‘1297, Dec. 26. To Maud Make-joy for dancing before Edward Prince of Wales, at Ipswich, 2s.’ Here the sobriquet is adopted in compliment to the profession.
511. Our ‘Hardmans’ are but a corruption of ‘Hardyman.’ John Hardyman, D.D., was installed prebend of Chester in June, 1563. (Ormerod’s Cheshire, vol. i. p. 223.)
512. ‘Reginald Littleprowe’ was Mayor of Norwich in 1532, and ‘John Littleproud’ was buried at ‘Attleburgh’ in 1619. (Hist. Norf., iii. 219, and i. 535.) This sobriquet, I doubt not, was in sarcastic allusion to the haughty demeanour of its first possessor. As in so many cases, however, there seems to have been no objection to its acceptance on the part of his posterity.
513. ‘Oswin Sharparrow’ (W. 3), ‘John Sharparrow’ (W. 2), ‘William Sharparrow’ (W. 11). The original nominee was probably of a sarcastic turn. The following inscription was once to be seen in York Minster: ‘Orate pro anima dom. Johannis Sharparrowe, quondam parsone in Eccles. Cath. Ebor., qui obiit xxv. die Oct. an. 1411.’ (Drake’s Eboracum, p. 498.)
514. ‘Deliver’ as an adjective meant ‘nimble,’ ‘lithe.’ It was familiarly used. Chaucer has ‘deliverly,’ ‘deliverness,’ and ‘deliver.’ Of the young squier he says—
‘Of his stature he was of even lengthe,
And wonderly deliver, and great of strengthe.’
‘Ralph le Delivre’ is found in the Rot. Curiæ Regis.
515. The names of ‘Thomas le Busteler’ (F.F.) and ‘Robert le Bustler’ (T.) are less complimentary than most of the above. ‘Nicholas le Medler’ (A.) would be quite as objectionable.
516. ‘Craske, fryke of fatte,’ i.e., lusty, fresh. (Pr. Par.)
517. ‘Richard Curtevalur’ (A.) would seem to have had an instinctive acquaintance with the moral of that couplet which asserts that
‘He who fights and runs away
Shall live to fight another day.’
There are a good many people, I fancy, who thus ‘take thought for the morrow.’
518. Fr. Preux = valiant.
519. ‘Simon Stallworthe’ is mentioned in the Grants of Edward the Fifth. (Cam. Soc.) The modern form of the term colloquially used is ‘stalwart.’
520. ‘Arthur Purefoy’ or ‘Purefaye’ was Rector of Redenhall in 1584. (Hist. Norf., v. 363.)
521. Thus Archbishop Sandys commences a sermon at Paul’s Cross:—‘The Apostle St. Peter, like a perfit workman and a skilful builder, first layeth a sure foundation.’ (Parker Soc., p. 386.)
522. ‘Thomas Bontemps’ appears in a Norfolk register of the fourteenth century. (Hist. Norfolk, Index.) It seems somewhat analogous to the now familiar ‘Bonheur.’
523. The son and successor of Charlemagne, Louis First, went by the sobriquet of ‘le Debonnaire,’ on account of his courteous and affable character.
524. ‘Thomas Gentilhomme’ in the Writs of Paul represents the Norman-French form. The surname still exists in France, as does ‘Gentleman’ in England.
525. Akin to ‘Malcolm le Musard’ (M.) was ‘Alan le Mute’ (A.). ‘Henry Duceparole’ (T.) or ‘Richard Parlebien’ (M.) is decidedly complimentary, but ‘William Spekelital’ (P.) would seem to have been morose.
526. ‘John Strictman’ (A.) and ‘John le Severe’ (A.) may be set here.
527. The Babees’ Book (Early Eng. Text. Soc.).
528. ‘Every midwyfe shulde be presented with honest women of great gravity to the Bysshop,’ for she ‘shulde be a sadde woman, wyse and discrete, having experience.’ (Andrew Boorde.)
529. The Hundred Rolls give us a ‘Robert le Sotele.’ ‘Salomon le Sotel’ was Sheriff of London in 1290, according to Stow. There is no reason to suppose that either of these was distinguished for any of the unpleasant features that often belong to sharp characteristics.
530. The Issue Roll gives us an opposite characteristic in ‘Thomas Litilskill.’
531. ‘Christopher Greynhorne’ (W. 15) would represent the modern sense of this word.
532. There used to be an old proverb—
‘Whylst grasse doth growe oft sterves the seely steede.’
Vide Dyce’s notes to ‘All’s Well that Ends Well.’ (Shakespeare’s Works, vol. iii. p. 288.) One of the best illustrations of this word, however, is to be met with in Foxe’s Martyrology, where, describing the martyrdom of a young child not seven years old, he says: ‘The captain, perceiving the child invincible and himself vanquished, committed the silly soul, the blessed babe, the child uncherished, to the stinking prison.’ (Vol. i. p. 126, Edit. 1844.)
533. Thomas Selybarn (i.e. Silly-child) occurs in the York Guild. (W. 11.)
534. Joyce may belong either to the nickname or the baptismal class. ‘Richard le Joyce,’ J., ‘Joyce Faukes,’ H., ‘Joice Frankline,’ W. 9.
535. ‘William Gladchere’ (‘Gladcheer’) (F.F.) would be a pleasant sobriquet.
536. ‘Alicia Blissewenche’ occurs in the Hundred Rolls—a light-hearted ruddy-faced country girl of happy disposition and blithe expression. I doubt not he was a lucky swain who got her to go to the priest with him to sue wedlock. Cf. ‘Jeffery Joyemaiden’ in the same record.
537. The early ‘John Bellewether’ (H.) may be either a partial translation of this, or that which is more likely, a sobriquet taken from the custom of fastening a bell around the neck of the leading sheep, by which to conduct the rest. We still term such an one the ‘bell-wether.’
538. We never use ‘merry’ now in relation to sacred things, though our English Bible does. The fact is, the word has somewhat sunk in the social scale. Few preachers would say, as Bishop Bradford could say quite naturally in his day, ‘The Lord for Christ’s sake give us merry hearts to drink lustily of His sweet cup.’ A monument in Marshfield Church on A. Meredeth ends thus —
‘Judge then, what he did lose who lost but breath,
Lived to die well, and dyed A MEREDETH.
(Rudder’s Gloucestershire.)
539. ‘Sweetlove’ is met by ‘Duzamour;’ ‘Felicia Duzamour’ occurs in the Domesday, St. Paul’s (Cam. Soc.). ‘Dulcia Fynamour’ is set down in the Wardrobe Accounts Ed. 1.
540. ‘Wooer,’ and even ‘Wooeress,’ seem to have existed. ‘John le Wower’ (A.), ‘Hugh le Wewer’ (R.), ‘Emma Woweres’ (A.).
541. ‘Ralph Full-of-Love’ was Rector of West Lynn in the year 1462. (Hist. of Norfolk, vol. viii. p. 536.)
542. ‘Well beloved’ was the usual term applied in any formal address in the Middle Ages, such as when a king in council made any public announcement, or when a priest addressed his people, or when a testator mentioned a legatee. It was then a perfectly familiar expression, and would easily affix itself as a sobriquet. A Rev. C. Wellbeloved published a translation of the Bible in 1838, printed by Smallfield and Co., London.
543. ‘Sweet’ and its compounds, however, are most probably to be referred to our baptismal nomenclature. A ‘Swet le Bone’ is found in the Hundred Rolls, and in the same record occur such other forms as ‘Swetman fil. Edith’ and ‘Sweteman Textor.’
544. In All Saints Church, Hertford, exists or existed a tablet with an inscription dated 1428, beginning thus—
‘Here lyeth under this stone William Wake,
And by him Joane his wife and make.’
(Clutterbuck’s Hertfordshire, vol. ii., p. 165.)
545. ‘Prudens’ should more properly, perhaps, be placed among abstract virtues. ‘Richard Prudence’ F.F. Later on it became a baptismal name—‘Prudence Howell.’ (Proceedings in Chancery: Elizabeth.)
546. ‘Richard Merricocke’ (F.F.) was evidently a jovial fellow.
547. ‘Parramore’ is always found as ‘Paramour’ in early rolls, and in this form existed till the xviith century. ‘April 18, 1635, Whitehall. Captain Thomas Paramour appointed to the Adventure.’ State Papers, 1635 (Domestic).
548. It was a favourite joke some few years ago in the House of Commons to say that there were in it two Lemons and but one Peel. While Sir Robert Peel was Irish Secretary, from 1812 to 1818, and was somewhat remarkable in that capacity for his opposition to the Roman Catholics, it was customary to style him by the sobriquet of ‘Orange Peel.’
549. ‘Lyare, or gabbare—mendax, mendosus.’ (Prompt. Parv.) ‘Henry le Liere’ (H.R.) speaks for himself, unless he belies himself.
550. Like ‘Gabelot,’ ‘Hamelot,’ ‘Hughelot,’ ‘Crestelot,’ etc., ‘Gibelot’ may be a diminutive, in which case ‘Gilbert’ will be the root, and the name will belong to the patronymic class. (Vide p. 16, note 1.)
551. A ‘William Gidyheved’ (Giddyhead) is mentioned by Mr. Riley as living in London in the xivth century. (X. index.)
552. In the Pr. Par., ‘Gybelot’ (or Gyglot) is rendered ‘ridax.’
553. Teetotalism was not without its representatives—‘Thomas le Sober’ (M.), ‘Richard Drynkewatere’ (M.), ‘John Drinkewater’ (A.). There is no proof for Camden’s statement that this is a corruption of Derwentwater. From the earliest days it appears in its present dress.
554. ‘Memorandum, quod die sancti Leonardi, fecit Galfridus Dringkedregges de Ubbethorp homagium.’ (V. 8, p. 151.)
555. ‘Thomas Sourale’ (A.) is met by ‘John Sweteale,’ a member of St. George’s Guild, Norwich (V.). The former, I doubt not, was a crabbed peevish fellow.
556. ‘Simon le Chuffere’ occurs in the H.R. This was a common term of opprobrium for a miser. As ‘Chuffer’ it is found in the Townley Mysteries.
557. ‘The wife of Mr. Turnpenny, newsagent, Leeds, was yesterday delivered of two sons and one daughter, all of whom are doing well (Manchester Evening News, July 1, 1873.)
558. ‘William Taylemayle’ is found in the Chronicon Petroburgense. (Cam. Soc.)
559. We may also mention ‘Gilbert le Covetiose’ (M.) and ‘Robert Would-have.’ We still say ‘much would have more.’ ‘Robert Would-have, sergeant-at-mace, witness in trial before the Mayor of Newcastle, March 23, 1662.’ (W. 16.)
560. ‘William Rakestraw’ reminds us of ‘Piers Plowman’s ‘ratoner and rakyer of Cheape,’ i.e., ratcatcher and scavenger of Cheapside. A still more objectionable name was that of ‘Adam Ketmongere’ (H.R.), Ket = filth, carrion. ‘Honorius le Rumonjour’ (Rummager) (N.) would seem to have followed a similar calling. These sobriquets would readily be affixed upon men of a penurious and scraping character.
561. ‘William Wildeblood’ is found in a Yorkshire Roll (W. 9), and ‘Jordan Kite-wilde’ in the H.R.
562. Also ‘Agnes Gyngyvere’ in Riley’s Memorials of London. Like ‘John Vergoose’ (W. 13) i.e., vinegarish, they would seem to hit off the sharp temperament of their owners.
563. Vide Lower’s English Surnames, i. 242.
564. Thus it is with our ‘Roses.’ The Rot. Fin. in Turri London. give us a ‘John de la Rose,’ while the Hundred Rolls furnish us with a ‘Nicholas de la Rose.’
565. ‘Paid John of the hall, of tow (two) urchines, 0l. 0s. 4d.’ (Hist. and Ant. Staffordshire, i. 197.)
566. George Camel and Jane Camel were apprehended as Popish recusants, May 2, 1673. (Dean Granville’s Letters, p. 225.) ‘William Cammille’ (V. 4), ‘George Camil’ (W. 20).
567. ‘1438.’ “Item, pro aula ‘Olefante,’ Magister Kyllynworth.” (Mun. Acad. Oxon. p. 522.) This hall or smaller college was so called from the sign over the door. Skelton has both ‘olyfant’ and ‘olyphante.’ He describes a woman in ‘Eleanor Rummyng’ as
‘Necked lyke an olyfant.’
568. ‘Herveus de Lyons,’ C., ‘Richard de Lyouns,’ M.
569. It was ‘Hugues le Loup’ the Conqueror appointed Second Count of the Cheshire Palatinate.
570. ‘Lovel’ is the diminutive. ‘Maulovel’ will thus be ‘Bad-wolfkin.’
571. A Rascal was a lean, ragged deer; Shakespeare so uses it. Very early, however, the term was applied to the vulgar herd of human kind, but with far less opprobious meaning than now. Hall, quoting Henry of Northumberland, speaks of Henry IV. as having obtained his crown ‘by the counsaill of thy frendes, and by open noising of the rascale people’ (f. xxi.), i.e. the rabble. An extract from the Ordinances of Henry VIII. at Eltham says, ‘It is ordained that none of the sergeants at arms, heralds... have, retain, or bring into the court any boyes or rascalles, nor also other of their servants.’ The surname was very common, and lasted a long time—‘John Raskele’ (H.), ‘Henry Rascall’ (Z.). Robert Rascal was persecuted for his religion in 1517 (Foxe). ‘Received for a pewe in the lower end of the churche set to Richard Rascalle, vis.’ (Ludlow Churchwardens’ Accounts, Cam. Soc.)
572. As we have Cock and Cockerell, Duck and Duckrell, so we have Buck and Buckerell—‘Peter Bokerel’ (A.), ‘Matthew Bokerel’ (A.). Cf. Mackarel and Pickerell.
573. Sometimes this is local, and a mere corruption of Beauvoir—‘Roger de Belvoir’ (M.).
574. ‘Duncalf’ may be seen over a window in Oldham Road, Manchester. ‘William Duncalf’ (A.A. 1), ‘John Duncalf’ (A.A. 1).
575. Such names as Roger Runcy, Richard Palefray, John Portehors, or Ralph Portehos represent terms very familiar to our forefathers.
576. This word ‘beef’ as denotive of the living animal was in vogue in the seventeenth century at least. The plural ‘beeves’ is still to be found in our Authorized Version. For instance, Levit. xxii. 19, is translated, ‘Ye shall offer at your own will a male without blemish of the beeves, of the sheep, or of the goats.’ Shakespeare, also, has the word in this sense. He speaks in his ‘Merchant of Venice’ of the—
‘Flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats.’
We have here mutton used in the same manner. Edward the Second was accustomed ‘to breede upp beeves and motonnes in his parkes to serve his household.’ (Liber Niger, Ed. IV.)
577. Apart from such entries as ‘William le Lamb,’ we find a ‘John Lambgrome’ in the Hundred Rolls. Though obsolete, we must set him by our ‘Shepherds.’ A brother-in-law of John Wesley bore the name of ‘Whitelamb.’ I am not sure whether this surname has died out or not. In the Visitation of Yorkshire, 1665, it is found in the person of ‘Isabel Whitlamb.’
578. ‘Robert Spichfat’ (X.), ‘William Spichfat’ (W. 11.), from the old ‘spic,’ bacon, seem to refer to the greasy habits of their owners.
579. Christopher Pigg was Mayor of Lynn Regis in 1742.
580. An old political poem says the Italians bring in
‘Apes and japes and mamusetts taylede,
Nifles, trifles, that litelle have avayled.’
581. Raton is still the term in the North. Langland uses it, and in Chaucer the Potecary is asked by a purchaser—
‘That he him would sell
Some poison, that he might his ratouns quell.’
582. ‘Some bileve that yf the kite or the puttock fle ovir the way afore them that they should fare wel that daye, for sumtyme they have farewele after that they see the puttock so fleyinge.’ (Brand, iii. 113.)
583. Our present Authorized Version retains the term in Deut. xiv. 13, where mention is made of ‘the glede, and the kite, and the vulture after his kind.’ Locally it is found in ‘Gledhill’ and ‘Gladstone,’ or more correctly ‘Gledstane,’ that is, the hill or crag which the kites were wont to frequent. A ‘William de Gledstanys’ is met with in the Coldingham Priory Records of the date of 1357, proving its North English origin. ‘Hawkstone’ and ‘Gladstone’ are thus synonymous.
584. ‘Richard Sparhawke’ was Rector of Fincham in 1534. (Hist. Norf., vii. 358.)
585. ‘Philip Chikin’ (A.), ‘John Chikin’ (A.). The name existed in the xviith cent., for one ‘George Chicken’ was summoned at Ryton ‘for not payeing his assessments, July 28, 1673.’ (Dean Granville’s Letters, Sur. Soc.).
586. ‘Peter le Goos,’ F.F., ‘Walter le Gows,’ A., ‘Amicia le Gos,’ J., ‘John le Gos,’ M. The latter, as ‘Goss,’ is the present most common form.
587. This is as often from Joscelyn. ‘Gosceline fil. Gawyn,’ A., ‘Roger fil. Gocelin,’ A.
588. A tablet with the inscription ‘Sacred to the Memory of Priscilla Blackbird’ has been put up in Stepney churchyard within the last few years.
589. ‘The bailiffs and commons granted to Robert Popingeay, their fellow citizen, all their tenement and garden in the Parish of St. Mary in the Marsh.’ 1371. (Hist. Norf., iii. 97.) ‘Richard Popingay,’ T.T. ‘To a servaunt of William ap Howell for bringing of a popyngay to the Quene to Windesore, xiiis. iiiid.’ (Privy Purse Expenses of Elizabeth of York, 1502.)
590. ‘He turnede upso down the boordis of chaungeris, and the chayers of men that solden culvers.’ (Matt. xxi. 12. v. Wicklyffe.)
591. The Prompt. Par. has ‘reyn-fowle, a bryd,’ so called, the Editor says, because its cry was supposed to prognosticate rain.
592. ‘Thomas le Whal’ (B.), ‘Ralph le Wal’ (A.). As with Oliphant, over-corpulence would give rise to the sobriquet.
593. ‘Reymund Heryng’ (M.). The diminutive is found in the case of ‘Stephen Harengot’ (D.D.), i.e., ‘Little Herring.’
594. ‘Elizabeth Salmon’ (G.). It is said, a Mr. Salmon having been presented by his wife with three boys at one birth, gave them the names of ‘Pickled,’ ‘Potted,’ and ‘Fresh.’ I would call the reader’s attention to the italicised words that preface the statement.
595. Daniel Turbot was summoned ‘for not paying Easter reckonyngs, Aug. 23rd, 1674.’ (Granville’s Letters. Sur. Soc.)
596. ‘Matthew Chubb,’ a member of the ‘Gild of Tailors, Exeter.’—21 Ed. IV. (English Gilds, 323 p.)
597. ‘John Tenche’ (A.). Tenche is the name of one of the yeomen of the Guard to Queen Mary when Princess Mary. (Priv. Purse Exp. 1543.)
598. Thomas Spratt was Bishop of Rochester in 1688.
599. This is doubtless but a feminine form of Odo.
600. ‘Roger le Waps’ is found in a Sussex subsidy roll of 1296. (Lower, i. 242.)
601. In Ricart’s Kalendar of Bristol (Cam. Soc.), William and Robert Snake are set down among the earlier ‘Prepositi.’
602. In 1433 it had got corrupted into ‘Querdling,’ a ‘Thomas Querdling’ occupying an official position in Norwich in that year. Of him the following rhyme speaks—
‘Whoso have any quarrel or pie,
If he but withstand John Hankey,
John Querdlyng, Nic Waleys, John Belagh, John Meg,
Sore shall him rewe
For they rule all the court with their lawes newe.’
(Blomefield, iii. 145.)
I doubt not ‘Curling’ is the modern representative of this name.
603. This name is not obsolete. Mr. Lower quotes a local rhyme thus—
‘Worthing is a pretty place,
And if I’m not mistaken,
If you can’t get any butcher’s meat,
There’s “hogs’ flesh” and “bacon.”’
604. ‘William Wolfheryng’ occurs in a Sussex subsidy roll, 1296. (Lower, i. 242.)
605. ‘Joan Blackdam’ occurs in Hist. Norfolk. (Blomefield, v. Index.)
606. ‘Anna Hellicate’ was called before the Archdeacon of Durham, for not coming to the Church, 27th July, 1673.’ (Dean Granville’s Letters, Surt. Soc.)
607. This most curious name appears in the Manchester Directory for 1861.
608. This seems to have been a surname—‘John Drawlace’ (W. 18).
609. The President of the College of Physicians in 1665 was Sir Francis Prujean. Bramston, in his Autobiography (Cam. Soc.), styles him ‘Prugean.’
610. The newspapers for June 6th, 1874, mention a ‘Mr. Youngjohn’ in connection with an election petition at Kidderminster.
611. We have already noticed that ‘Robin Hood’ had become in itself a surname. It is quite possible our ‘Little-johns’ have arisen in a similar manner. Little John, I need not say, was as carefully represented at the May-day dance as Robin himself or Maid Marian. Ritson has preserved us a rhyme on the subject—
‘This infant was called John Little,’ quoth he
‘Which name shall be changed anon;
The words we’ll transpose, so wherever he goes,
His name shall be called “Little John.”’
612. ‘Item, to Guillam de Vait, Guillam de Trope, and Pety John mynstralles, ivl.’ (Trevelyan Papers, ii. 20. Cam. Soc.)
613. We might be tempted to place our ‘Brownbills’ here, but I have recently shown them to be representative of the old and famous pikes known as ‘brownbills,’ used so commonly in war previous to the introduction of gunpowder.
614. Thus Desdemona says to Emilia (Othello, iv. 3)—
‘This Lodovico is a proper man;’
and the latter responds—
‘A very handsome man.’
615. ‘Apple-john’ must be looked upon as a nickname taken from the fruit of that name. An apple-john was a species of apple which was never fully ripe till late in the season, when it was shrivelled. Hence Shakespeare’s allusion in 2 Henry IV. ii. 4. ‘Sweet-apple’ will belong to this category.
616. ‘Full-James’ must be looked upon as a corruption of Foljambe. I prefer the original, though that is not complimentary.
617. This name lingered on till 1674 at least, for one of the private musicians attached to the household of Charles II. was ‘John Godegroome.’ (Vide Chappell’s Ballad Literature, p. 469.) ‘Robert le Godegrom’ had appeared three centuries before in the Hundred Rolls.
618. ‘King’ I have already suggested as a sobriquet given to one who represented such a rank in some mediæval pageant. Peculiarities of stature, manner, or dress would readily give rise to the compound forms.
619. Archbishop Chichele, when founding All Souls’ College, purchased for this purpose the sites of ‘Beresford’s Hall, St. Thomas’s Hall, Tyngewyck Hall, and Godknave Hall.’ (Hist. Univ. Oxon, vol. i. p. 195.)
Probably its founder bore that name.
620. ‘Godfrey Mauclerk’ was mayor of Leicester in 1286. Also, ‘Walter Malclerk’ (P.P.). Corrupted into ‘Manclerk,’ this name still exists. (Cf. Clerical Directory, 1874.)
621. ‘Johan le Redeclerk, hosier de Coventry.’ (V. 9, p. xxiv.)
622. The first ‘Littlepage’ I can light upon is in the case of ‘John Littlepage’ and ‘Joan Littlepage,’ persecuted for their religion in 1521. (Foxe’s Martyrology.)
623. ‘Man’ in the sense of servant is found appended to several Christian names. Thus we come across such combinations as ‘Mathewman,’ ‘Harriman,’ and ‘Thomasman.’ The wonder is more are not to be met with. The customary way of registering servants in the old rolls is ‘William Matthew’s man,’ or ‘John’s man Thomas.’ Thus the surname arose. The Proceedings in Kent, 1640 (Cam. Soc.), contained the name of ‘Nicholas Hodgman,’ and ‘John Hobman’ was buried May 17th, 1649. (Smith’s Obituary. Cam. Soc.)
624. ‘Grant to Henry Goodclerk for his services in the parts beyond the sea, 23rd Sep. 1485.’ (Materials for Hist. Henry VII., p. 557.)
625. ‘Goodwife’ seems to have existed formerly. A ‘William Goodwyfe’ was Rector of Stapleford, Herts, in 1443. (Clutterbuck’s Hertfordshire, vol. ii. p. 218.)
626. ‘Alan Bondame’ represents the feminine (P.P.).
627. John Beaufitz was Sheriff of Warwick in 1485.
628. A curious circumstance happened, I believe, but a few years ago, causing the increase of a forename, unintended, we may feel sure, by those most immediately concerned. A child was taken to church to be baptized. The clergyman at the usual place turned to the mother and asked what name the infant was to bear. ‘Robert,’ was the reply. ‘Any other name?’ he inquired. ‘Robert honly,’ she answered, her grammar not being of the best description. ‘Robert Honly, I baptize thee, in the name,’ etc., at once continued the clergyman, and the child was therefore duly so registered.
629. A ‘Savage Bear’ was at large in Kent a few years ago. (Lower i. 177.)
630. ‘Ivory Malet’ (D.D.) This, though registered in the xiiith, would seem to have anticipated the croquet of the xixth cent. ‘Ivray’ was a baptismal name at the earlier date.
631. ‘More Fortune, bayliff of St. Martin’s, died May 17th, 1367.’ (Smith’s Obituary, p. 13.)
632. ‘May 27th, 1805. River, son of River and Rebecca Jordan.’ (Christenings, St. Ann’s, Manchester.)
633. Several ‘Pine Coffins’ may be seen in the Clerical Directories of 1840–1850.
634. ‘Jean Gottam,’ the Frenchman’s title for ‘John Bull,’ is old. A witness in the trial of Joan of Arc used the term ‘Godon,’ and explained it to be a sobriquet of the English from their use of the oath ‘God damn.’
635. A clever article in the Edinburgh Review, April 1855, suggests ‘Blood’ and ‘Death’ from ‘S’Blood’ and ‘S’Death,’ the abbreviated ‘God’s blood’ and ‘God’s death.’
636. Vide page 160. Camden says the Normans were so called because ‘at every other word they would swear by God.’
637. ‘Henry Godsalve’ entered C.C. Coll. Cam. in 1614. (Masters’ Hist., C.C. Coll.)
638. ‘Item, to Jannett God-send-us, I give a caldron, and a pare of tonges.’ (Extract of will of William Hardinge, Vicar of Heightington, 1584. W. 13.) The editor suggests she was a foundling.
639. The Saturday Review, in a criticism of my book, mentions a Rogerus Deus-salvet-dominas in the Essex Domesday.
640. ‘Mr. Gracedieu, Incumbent of St. James’s, Duke’s Place.’ (Strype, London.)
641. A curious heraldic name is found in the 17th cent. John Poyndexter, fellow of Exeter Coll., Oxford, was dispossessed. (Walker, Sufferings of the Clergy.)
642. Our ‘Olyfadres’ will similarly be the expletive ‘Holy-father,’ unless, like ‘Thomas Worthship’ (Z.), the name be but a title of respect to some ecclesiastic functionary.
643. ‘Good-speed’ may belong to the same class as Swift, Golightly, Lightfoot, Roefoot, etc.—V. p. 388.
644. The Constable of Nottingham Castle in 1369 was one Stephen Rummelowe, or Rumbilowe, for both forms are to be found.
645. ‘Fulco Twelvepence’ was perhaps related to ‘Robert Shillyng,’ found in the ‘Patent Rolls’ (State Paper Office).
646. A most anachronistic name is met with in the ‘Calend. Inquis. Post Mortem,’ 30 Henry VI., in the entry ‘Robert Banknott.’ A ‘knot’ was a small local prominence. On the bank or side of this the nominee doubtless dwelt.
← Back to English Surnames: Their Sources and Significations