Chapter I. Patronymic Surnames

It is impossible to say how important an influence have merely personal names exercised upon our nomenclature. The most familiar surnames we can meet with, saving that of ‘Smith,’ are to be found in this list. For frequency we have no names to be compared with ‘Jones,’ or ‘Williamson,’ or ‘Thompson,’ or ‘Richardson.’ How they came into being is easily manifest. Nothing could be more natural than that children should often pass current in the community in which they lived as the sons of ‘Thomas,’ or ‘William,’ or ‘Richard,’ or ‘John;’ and that these several relationships should be found in our directories as distinct sobriquets only shows that there was a particular generation in these families in which this title became permanent, and passed on to future descendants as an hereditary surname. The interest that attaches to these patronymics is great—for it is by them we can best discover what names were in vogue at this period, and what not, and of those which were, by their relative frequency, in a measure, what were the most popular. Certainly the change is most extraordinary when we compare the past with the present. Some, once so popular that they scarce gave identity to the bearer, are now all but obsolete, while numerous appellations at present generally current were then utterly unknown. There are surnames familiar to our ears whose root as a Christian name is now passed out of knowledge; while, on the other hand, many a Christian name now daily upon our lips has no surname formed from it to tell of any lengthened existence. The fact is, that while our surnames, putting immigration aside, have been long at a standstill, we have ever been and are still adding to our stock of baptismal names. Each new national crisis, each fresh achievement of our arms, each new princely bride imported from abroad—these events are being commemorated daily at the font. This is but the continuance of a custom, and one very natural, which has ever existed. Turn where we will in English history during the last eight hundred years, and we shall find the popular sympathies seeking an outlet in baptism. Did a prince of the blood royal meet with a hapless and cruel fate? His memory was at once embalmed in the names of the children born immediately afterwards, saving when a mother’s superstitious fears came in to prevent it. Did some national hero arise who upheld and asserted the people’s rights against a grinding and hateful tyranny? His name is speedily to be found inscribed on every hearth. The reverse is of equal significance. It is by the fact of a name, which must have been of familiar import, finding few to represent it, we can trace a people’s dislikes and a nation’s prejudices. A name once in favour, as a rule, however, kept its place. The cause to which it owed its rise had long passed into the shade of forgotten things, but the name, if it had but attained a certain hold, seems easily to have kept it, till indeed such a convulsion occurred as revolutionised men and things and their names together.

There have been two such revolutionary crises in English nomenclature, the Conquest and the Reformation, the second culminating in the Puritan Commonwealth. Other crises have stamped themselves in indelible lines upon our registers, but the indenture, if as strongly impressed, was far less general, and in the main merely enlarged rather than changed our stock of national names. Thus was it with the Crusades. A few of the names it introduced have been popular ever since. Many, at first received favourably, died out, if not with, at least soon after, the subsidence of the spirit to which they owed their rise. Some of these came from the Eastern Church, of whose existence at all the Crusader seems to have suddenly reminded us. Some were Biblical, associated in Bible narrative with the very soil the Templars trod. Some, again, were borrowed from Continental comrades in arms, names which had caught the fancy of those who introduced them, or were connected with friendly rivalries and pledged friendships. This era, being concurrent with the establishment of surnames, has left its mark upon our nomenclature; but it was no revolution.

The period in which these names began to assume an hereditary character varies so greatly that it is impossible to make any definite statement. As a familiar custom I should say it arose in the twelfth century. But there are places, both in Lancashire and Yorkshire, where, as in Wales, men are wont to be styled to this very day by a complete string of patronymics. To hear a man called ‘Bill’s o’Jack’s,’ ‘o’Dick’s,’ ‘o’Harry’s,’ ‘o’Tom’s,’ is by no means a rare incident. A hit at this formerly common Welsh practice is given in ‘Sir John Oldcastle,’ a play printed in 1600, in which ran the following conversation:—

‘Judge: What bail? What sureties?

‘Davy: Her cozen ap Rice, ap Evan, ap Morice, ap Morgan, ap Llewellyn, ap Madoc, ap Meredith, ap Griffin, ap Davis, ap Owen, ap Shinkin Jones.

‘Judge: Two of the most efficient are enow.

‘Sheriff: And ’t please your lordship, these are all but one.’

This ‘ap,’ the Welsh equivalent of our English ‘son,’ when it has come before a name beginning with a vowel, has in many instances become incorporated with it. Thus ‘Ap-Hugh’ has given us ‘Pugh,’ ‘Ap-Rice,’ just mentioned, ‘Price,’ or as ‘Reece,’ ‘Preece;’ ‘Ap-Owen,’ ‘Bowen;’ ‘Ap-Evan,’ ‘Bevan;’ ‘Ap-Robert,’ ‘Probert;’ ‘Ap-Roger,’ ‘Prodger;’ ‘Ap-Richard,’ ‘Pritchard;’ ‘Ap-Humphrey,’ ‘Pumphrey;’ ‘Ap-Ithell,’ ‘Bethell;’ or ‘Ap-Howell,’ ‘Powell.’ ‘Prosser’ has generally been thought a corruption of ‘proser,’ one who was garrulously inclined; but this is a mistake, it is simply ‘Ap-Rosser.’ The Norman patronymic was formed similarly as the Welsh, by a prefix, that of ‘fitz,’ the modern French ‘fils.’ Surnames of this class were at first common. Thus we find such names as ‘Fitz-Gibbon,’ ‘Fitz-Gerald,’ ‘Fitz-Patrick,’ ‘Fitz-Waryn,’ ‘Fitz-Rauf,’ ‘Fitz-Payn,’ ‘Fitz-Richard,’ or ‘Fitz-Neele.’ But though this obtained for awhile among some of the nobler families of our country, it has made in general no sensible impression upon our surnames. The Saxon added ‘son,’ as a desinence, as ‘Williamson,’ that is, ‘William’s son,’ or ‘Bolderson,’ that is, ‘Baldwin’s son,’ or merely the genitive suffix, as ‘Williams,’ or ‘Richards.’ This class has been wonderfully enlarged by the custom then in vogue, as now, of reducing every baptismal name to some curt and familiar monosyllable. It agreed with the rough-and-ready humour of the Anglo-Norman character so to do. How common this was we may see from Gower’s description of the insurrection of Wat Tyler:

‘Watte’ vocat, cui ‘Thoma’ venit, neque ‘Symme’ retardat,
‘Bat’-que ‘Gibbe’ simul, ‘Hykke’ venire jubent:
‘Colle’ furit, quem ‘Bobbe’ juvat nocumenta parantes,
Cum quibus, ad damnum ‘Wille’ coire volat—
‘Grigge’ rapit, dum ‘Davie’ strepit, comes est quibus ‘Hobbe,’
‘Larkin’ et in medio non minor esse putat:
‘Hudde’ ferit, quem ‘Judde’ terit, dum ‘Tibbe’ juvatur
‘Jacke’ domosque viros vellit, en ense necat—

Or let the author of ‘Piers Plowman’ speak. ‘Glutton’ having been seduced to the alehouse door, we are told—

Then goeth ‘Glutton’ in and grete other after,
‘Cesse’ the souteresse sat on the bench:
‘Watte’ the warner and his wife bothe:
‘Tymme’ the tynkere and twayne of his ’prentices.
‘Hikke’ the hackney man and ‘Hugh’ the nedlere,
‘Clarice’ of Cokkeslane, and the clerke of the churche;
‘Dawe’ the dykere, and a dozen othere.

In these two quotations we see at once the clue to the extraordinary number of patronymics our directories contain of these short and curtailed forms. Thus ‘Dawe,’ from ‘David,’ gives us ‘Dawson,’ or ‘Dawes;’ ‘Hikke’ from ‘Isaac,’ ‘Hickson,’ or ‘Hicks;’ ‘Watte,’ from ‘Walter,’ ‘Watson,’ or ‘Watts.’ Nor was this all. A large addition was made to this category by the introduction of a further element. This arose from the nursery practice of giving pet names. Much as this is done now, it would seem to have been still more common then. In either period the method has been the same—that of turning the name into a diminutive. Our very word ‘pet’ itself is but the diminutive ‘petite,’ or ‘little one.’ The fashion adopted, however, was different. We are fond of using ‘ie,’ or ‘ley.’ Thus with us ‘John’ becomes ‘Johnnie,’ ‘Edward,’ ‘Teddie,’ ‘Charles,’ ‘Charley.’ In early days the four diminutives in use were those of ‘kin,’ ‘cock,’ and the terminations ‘ot’ or ‘et,’ and ‘on’ or ‘en,’ the two latter being of Norman-French origin.

1. Kin.—This Saxon term, corresponding with the German ‘chen,’ and the French ‘on’ or ‘en,’ referred to above, and introduced, most probably, so far as the immediate practice was concerned, by the Flemings, we still preserve in such words as ‘manikin,’ ‘pipkin,’ ‘lambkin,’ or ‘doitkin.’ This is very familiar as a nominal adjunct. Thus, in an old poem, entitled ‘A Litul soth Sermun,’ we find the following:—

Nor those prude yongemen
That loveth ‘Malekyn,’
And those prude maydenes
That loveth ‘Janekyn;’
At chirche and at chepynge
When they togadere come
They runneth togaderes
And speaketh of derne love.
————
Masses and matins
Ne kepeth they nouht,
For ‘Wilekyn’ and ‘Watekyn’
Be in their thouht—

Hence we have derived such surnames as ‘Simpkins’ and ‘Simpkinson,’ ‘Thompkins’ and ‘Tomkinson.’

2. Cock.—Our nursery literature still secures in its ‘cock-robins,’ ‘cock-boats,’ and ‘cock-horses,’ the immortality of this second termination. It forms an important element in such names as ‘Simcox,’ ‘Jeffcock,’ ‘Wilcock,’ or ‘Wilcox,’ and ‘Laycock’ (Lawrence).

3. Ot or et.—These terminations were introduced by the Normans, and certainly have made an impregnable position for themselves in our English nomenclature. In our dictionaries they are found in such diminutives as ‘pocket’ (little poke), ‘ballot,’ ‘chariot,’ ‘target,’ ‘latchet,’ ‘lancet;’ in our directories in such names as ‘Emmett,’ or ‘Emmot’ (Emma), ‘Tillotson’ (Matilda), ‘Elliot’ (Elias), ‘Marriot’ (Mary), ‘Willmot’ (Willamot), and ‘Hewet,’ or ‘Hewetson’ (Hugh).

4. On or en.—These terminations became very popular with the French, and their directories teem with the evidences they display of former favour. They are all but unknown to our English dictionary, but many traces of their presence may be found in our nomenclature. Thus ‘Robert’ became ‘Robin,’ ‘Nicol’ ‘Colin,’ ‘Pierre’ ‘Perrin,’ ‘Richard’ ‘Diccon,’ ‘Mary’ ‘Marion,’ ‘Alice’ ‘Alison,’ ‘Beatrice’ ‘Beton,’ ‘Hugh’ ‘Huon,’ or ‘Huguon’; and hence such surnames as ‘Colinson,’ ‘Perrin,’ ‘Dicconson,’ ‘Allison’ (in some cases), ‘Betonson,’ ‘Huggins,’ and ‘Hugginson.’

I have already said that the Norman invasion revolutionised our system of personal names. Certainly it is in this the antagonism between Norman and Saxon is especially manifest. Occasionally, in looking over the records of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, we may light upon a ‘Godwin,’ or ‘Guthlac,’ or ‘Goddard,’ but they are of the most exceptional occurrence. Were the local part of these entries foreign, explanation would be unneeded. But while the personal element is foreign, the local denotes settlement from the up-country. Look at the London population of this period from such records as we possess. There is scarcely a hamlet, however small, that does not contribute to swell the sum of the metropolitan mass, and while ‘London’ itself is of comparatively great rarity in our nomenclature, an insignificant village like, say Debenham, in Suffolk, will have its score of representatives—so great was the flow, so small the ebb. It is this large accession from the interior which is the stronghold of Saxon nomenclature. It is this removal from one village to another, and from one town to another, which has originated that distich quoted by old Vestigan—

In ‘ford,’ in ‘ham,’ in ‘ley,’ in ‘ton,’
The most of English surnames run.

And yet, strange as it may seem, it is very doubtful whether for a lengthened period, at least, the owners of these names were of Saxon origin. The position of the Saxon peasantry forbade that they should be in any but a small degree accessory to this increase. The very villenage they lived under, the very manner in which they were attached to the glebe, rendered any such roving tendencies as these impossible. These country adventurers, then, whose names I have instanced, were of no Saxon stock, but the sons of the humbler dependants of those Normans who had obtained landed settlements, or of Norman traders who had travelled up the country, fixing their habitation wheresoever the wants of an increasing people seemed to give them an opportunity of gaining a livelihood. The children of such, driven out of these smaller communities by the fact that there was no further opening for them, poor as the villeins amongst whom they dwelt, but different in that they were free, would naturally resort to the metropolis and other large centres of industry. Not a few, however, would belong to the free Saxons, who, much against their will, no doubt, but for the sake of gain, would pass in the community to which they had joined themselves by the name belonging to the more powerful and mercantile party. In the same way, too, some not small proportion of these names would belong to those Saxon serfs who, having escaped their bondage, would, on reaching the towns, change their names to elude detection. These, of course, would be got from the Norman category. But be all this as it may, the fact remains that throughout all the records and rolls of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, we find, with but the rarest exceptions, all our personal names to be Norman. The Saxon seems to have become well-nigh extinct. There might have been a war of extermination against them. In an unbroken succession we meet with such names as ‘John’ and ‘Richard,’ ‘Robert’ and ‘Henry,’ ‘Thomas’ and ‘Ralph,’ ‘Geoffrey’ and ‘Jordan,’ ‘Stephen’ and ‘Martin,’ ‘Joscelyn’ and ‘Almaric,’ ‘Benedict’ and ‘Laurence,’ ‘Reginald’ and ‘Gilbert,’ ‘Roger’ and ‘Walter,’ ‘Eustace’ and ‘Baldwin,’ ‘Francis’ and ‘Maurice,’ ‘Theobald’ and ‘Cecil,’—no ‘Edward,’ no ‘Edmund,’ no ‘Harold’ even, saving in very isolated cases. It is the same with female names. While ‘Isabel’ and ‘Matilda,’ ‘Mirabilla’ and ‘Avelina,’ ‘Amabilla’ and ‘Idonia,’ ‘Sibilla’ and ‘Ida,’ ‘Letitia’ and ‘Agnes,’ ‘Petronilla’ or ‘Parnel’ and ‘Lucy,’ ‘Alicia’ and ‘Avice,’ ‘Alianora,’ or ‘Anora’ and ‘Dowsabell,’ ‘Clarice’ and ‘Muriel,’ ‘Agatha’ and ‘Rosamund,’ ‘Felicia’ and ‘Adelina,’ ‘Julia’ and ‘Blanche,’ ‘Isolda’ and ‘Amelia’ or ‘Emilia,’ ‘Beatrix’ and ‘Euphemia,’ ‘Annabel’ and ‘Theophania,’ ‘Constance’ and ‘Joanna’ abound; ‘Etheldreda,’ or ‘Edith,’ or ‘Ermentrude,’ all of the rarest occurrence, are the only names which may breathe to us of purely Saxon times. In the case of several, however, a special effort was made later on, when the policy of allaying the jealous feelings of the popular class was resorted to. For a considerable time the royal and chief baronial families had in their pride sought names for their children from the Norman category merely. After the lapse of a century, however, finding the Saxon spirit still chafed and uneasy under a foreign thrall, several names of a popular character were introduced into the royal nursery. Thus was it with ‘Edward’ and ‘Edmund.’ The former of these appellations was represented by Edward I., the latter by his brother Edmund, Earl of Lancaster. Previously to this, too, an attempt had been made to restore the British ‘Arthur’ in that nephew of Cœur de Lion who so miserably perished by his uncle’s means, and thereby gave Lackland a securer hold upon the English throne, if not upon the affections of the country. The sad and gloomy mystery which surrounded the disappearance of this boy-prince seems to have inspired mothers with a superstitious awe of the name, for we do not find, as in the case of ‘Edward’ or ‘Edmund,’ its royal restoration having the effect of making it general. On the contrary, as an effort in its favour, it seems to have signally failed. Of all our early historic names I find fewest relics of this.

The difficulty of subdividing our first chapter is great, but for the sake of convenience we have decided to preserve the following order:—

1. Names that preceded and survived the Conquest.
2. Names introduced or confirmed by the Normans.
3. Names from the Calendar of the Saints.
4. Names from Festivals and Holy-days.
5. Patronymics formed from occupations and officerships.
6. Metronymics.
7. Names from Holy Scripture.