Phrase-Names
Perhaps the most interesting group of nicknames is that of which we may take Shakespeare as the type. Incidentally we should be thankful that our greatest poet bore a name so much more picturesque than Corneille, crow, or Racine, root. It is agreed among all competent scholars that in compounds of this formation the verb was originally an imperative. This is shown by the form; cf. ne’er-do-well, Fr. vaurien, Ger. Taugenichts, good-for-naught. Thus Hasluck cannot belong to this class, but must be an imitative form of the personal name Aslac, which we find in Aslockton.
As Bardsley well says, it is impossible to retail all the nonsense that has been written about the name Shakespeare—“never a name in English nomenclature so simple or so certain in its origin; it is exactly what it looks— shake-spear.” The equivalent Schüttespeer is found in German, and we have also in English Shakeshaft, Waghorn, Wagstaff, Breakspear, Winspear. “Winship the mariner” was a freeman of York in the fourteenth century. Cf. Benbow (bend-bow), Hurlbatt, and the less athletic Lovejoy, Makepeace. Gathergood and its opposite Scattergood are of similar origin, good having here the sense of goods. Dogood is sometimes for Toogood, and the latter may be, like Thoroughgood, an imitative form of Thurgod (Chapter VII); but both names may also be taken literally, for we find Ger. Thunichtgut, do no good, and Fr. Trodoux (trop doux).
As a pendant to Dolittle we find a medieval Hack-little, no doubt a lazy wood-cutter, while virtue is represented by a twelfth-century Tire-little. Sherwin represents the medieval Schere-wynd, applied to a swift runner; cf. Ger. Schneidewind, cut wind, and Fr. Tranchevent. A nurseryman at Highgate has the appropriate name Cutbush, the French equivalent of which, Taillebois, has given us Tallboys; and a famous herbalist was named Culpepper. In Gathercole the second element may mean cabbage or charcoal. In one case, Horniblow for horn-blow, the verb comes after its object.
Names of this formation are very common in Mid. English as in Old French, and often bear witness to a violent or brutal nature. Thus Scorch-beef, which is found in the Hundred Rolls, has no connection with careless cookery; it is Old Fr. escorche (écorche) -buef, flay ox, a name given to some medieval “Skin-the-goat.” Catchpole (Chapter XX) is formed in the same way, and in French we find, applied to law officials, the surnames Baillehart, give halter, 1 and Baillehache, give axe, the latter still appropriately borne, as Bailhache, by an English judge.
It has sometimes been assumed that most names of this class are due to folk-etymology. The frequency of their occurrence in Mid. English and in continental languages makes it certain that the contrary is the case and that many surnames of obscure origin are perversions of this very large and popular class. I have seen it stated somewhere that Shakespeare is a corruption of an Old French name Sacquespée, 2 the theorist being apparently unable to see that this latter, meaning draw-sword, is merely an additional argument, if such were needed, for the literal interpretation of the English name. 3
Tredgold seems to have been conferred on some medieval stoic, for we find also Spurnegold. Without pinning our faith to any particular anecdote, we need have no hesitation in accepting Turnbull as a sobriquet conferred for some feat of strength and daring on a stalwart Borderer. We find the corresponding Tornebeuf in Old French, and Turnbuck also occurs. Trumbull and Trumble are variants due to metathesis followed by assimilation (Chapter III), while Tremble is a very degenerate form. In Knatchbull we have the obsolete verb knatch, which in Mid. English meant to strike on the head, fell. Crawcour is Fr. Crèvecoeur, breakheart, which has also become a local name in France. With Shacklock, shake-lock, and Sherlock, Shurlock, shear-lock, we may compare Robin Hood’s comrade Scathelock, though the precise interpretation of all three names is difficult. Rackstraw, rake-straw, corresponds to Fr. Grattepaille. Golightly means much the same as Lightfoot (Chapter XIII), nor need we hesitate to regard the John Gotobed who lived in Cambridgeshire in 1273 as a notorious sluggard compared with whom his neighbour Serl Gotokirke was a shining example. 4
Telfer is Fr. Taillefer, the iron cleaver, and Henry II.’s yacht captain was Alan Trenchemer, the sea cleaver. He had a contemporary named Ventados, wind abaft.
Slocomb has assumed a local aspect, but may very well correspond to Fr. Tardif or Ger. Mühsam, applied to some Weary Willie of the Middle Ages. Doubtfire is a misspelling of Dout-fire, from the dialect dout, to extinguish (do out), formed like don and doff. Fullalove, which does not belong to the same formation, is also found as Plein d’amour—
“Of Sir Lybeux and Pleyndamour” (B, 2090)—
and corresponds to Ger. Liebevoll. Waddilove actually occurs in the Hundred Rolls as Wade-in-love, presumably a nickname conferred on some medieval Don Juan.
Notes
1 Bailler, the usual Old French for to give, is still used colloquially and in dialect.
2 Of common occurrence in Mid. English records.
3 In one day’s reading I came across the following Mid. English names: Baillebien (give good), Baysedame (kiss lady), Esveillechien (wake dog), Lievelance (raise lance), Metlefrein (put the bridle), Tracepurcel (track hog), Turnecotel (turn coat), together with the native Cachehare and Hoppeschort.
4 The name is still found in the same county. Undergraduates contemporary with the author occasionally slaked their thirst at a riverside inn kept by Bathsheba Gotobed.