II.— Names introduced or confirmed by the Normans

Of names specially introduced at the Conquest, or that received an impulse by that event, we may mention ‘Serl’ and ‘Harvey.’ ‘Serl,’ found in such names as ‘Serle Morice’ or ‘Serle Gotokirke,’ or ‘John fil. Serlo,’ still abides in our ‘Searles’ and ‘Serles,’ ‘Serrells’ and ‘Serlsons.’ ‘William Serleson’ occurs in an old Yorkshire register, and ‘Richard Serelson’ in the Parliamentary Writs. The Norman diminutive also appears in Matilda Sirlot (A) and Mabel Sirlot (A). ‘Harvey,’ or ‘Herve,’ was more common than many may imagine, and a fair number of entries such as ‘Herveus le Gos’ or ‘William fil. Hervei,’ may be seen in all our large rolls. The Malvern poet in his ‘Piers Plowman’ employs the name:—

And thanne cam Coveitise,
Can I hym naght descryve,
So hungrily and holwe
Sire Hervy hym loked.

‘Arnold,’ now almost unknown in England as a baptismal name, made a deep impression on our nomenclature, as it did on that of Central Europe. ‘Earn’ for the eagle is a word not yet obsolete in the North of England, and this reminds us of the origin of the name. This kinship is more easily traceable in our registries where the usual forms are ‘Ernaldus Carnifix,’ or ‘Peter Ernald.’ Besides ‘Arnold,’ ‘Arnison,’ and the diminutive ‘Arnott’ or ‘Arnet’ still live among us. ‘Alberic,’ or ‘Albrec,’ as we find it occasionally written, soon found its way into our rolls as ‘Aubrey,’ although, as Ælfric, Miss Yonge shows it to have existed in our country centuries earlier. ‘Albred,’ probably but another form of the lately revived ‘Albert,’ is now found as ‘Allbright’ and the German ‘Albrecht.’

‘Emery,’ though now utterly forgotten as a personal name, may be said to live on only in our surnames. It was once no unimportant sobriquet. ‘Americ,’ ‘Almeric,’ ‘Almaric,’ ‘Emeric,’ and ‘Eimeric,’ seem to have been its original spellings in England, and thus, at least, it is more likely to remind us that it is the same name to which, in the Italian form of Amerigo, we now owe the title of that vast expanse of western territory which is so indissolubly connected with English industry and English interests. Curter forms than these were found in ‘Aylmar,’ ‘Ailmar,’ ‘Almar,’ and ‘Aymer,’ and ‘Amar.’ The surnames it has bequeathed to us are not few. It has had the free run of the vowels in our ‘Amorys,’ ‘Emerys,’ and ‘Imarys,’ and in a more patronymic form we may still oftentimes meet with it in our ‘Emersons,’ ‘Embersons,’ and ‘Imesons.’ ‘Ingram’ represents the old ‘Ingelram,’ ‘Engleram,’ ‘Iggelram,’ or ‘Ingeram,’ for all these forms may be met with; and ‘Ebrardus,’ later on registered as ‘Eborard,’ still abides hale and hearty in our ‘Everards’ and ‘Everys.’ The latter, however, can scarcely be said to be quite extinct as a baptismal name. ‘Waleran,’ an English form of the foreign ‘Valerian,’ is found in such an entry as ‘Walerand Berchamstead,’ or ‘Waldrand Clark,’ or ‘Walran Oldman.’ We see at once the origin of our ‘Walronds’ and ‘Walrands.’ The name of ‘Brice’ begins to find itself located in England at this time. Hailing from Denmark, it may have come in with the earlier raids from that shore, or later on in the more peaceful channels of trade. The Hundred Rolls furnish us with ‘Brice fil. William’ and ‘Brice le Parsun,’ while the Placita de Quo Warranto gives us a ‘Brice le Daneys,’ who himself proclaims the nationality of the name. The Norman diminutive is met with in ‘Briccot de Brainton’ (M M). ‘Brice’ and ‘Bryson’ (when not a corruption of ‘Bride-son’) are the present representatives of this now forgotten name. All the above names I have placed together, because, while introduced or receiving an impetus by the incoming of the Normans and their followers, they have, nevertheless, made little impression on our general nomenclature. The fact that, with but one or two exceptions, the usual pet addenda, ‘kin,’ ‘cock,’ and ‘ot,’ or ‘et,’ are absolutely wanting, or even the patronymic ‘son,’ shows decisively that they cannot be numbered among what we must call the popular names of the period. Introduced here and there in the community at large, they struggled on for bare existence, and have descended to us as surnames in their simple and unaltered form.

We now turn to a batch of personal names of a different character, names which, with a few exceptions, are still familiar to us at baptismal celebrations, and which have changed themselves into so many varying forms, that the surnames issuing from them are well-nigh legion. Most of these are the direct result of the Conquest. They are either the sobriquets borne by William, his family, and his leading followers, or by those whom connections of blood, alliance, and interest afterwards brought into the country. Many others received their solid settlement in England through the large immigration of foreign artisans from Normandy, from Picardy, Anjou, Flanders, and other provinces. The Flemish influence has been very strong.

I will first mention Drew, Warin, Paine, Ivo, and Hamon, because, although they must be included among the most familiar names of their time, they are now practically disused at the font. ‘Drew,’ or ‘Drogo,’ occurs several times in Domesday. An illegitimate son of Charlemagne was so styled, and, doubtless, it owed its familiarity to the adherents of the Conqueror. Later on, at any rate, it was firmly established, as such names as Drew Drewery, Druco Bretun, or William fil. Drogo testify. That ‘Drewett’ is derived from the Norman diminutive can be proved from the Hundred Rolls, wherein the same man is described in the twofold form of ‘Drogo Malerbe’ and ‘Druett Malerbe.’ The feminine ‘Druetta de Pratello’ is also found in the same records. ‘Drew’ and ‘Drewett’ are both in our directories. Few names were more common from the eleventh to the fourteenth century than ‘Warin,’ or ‘Guarin,’ or ‘Guerin’—the latter the form at present generally found in France. It is the sobriquet that is incorporated in our ancient ‘Mannerings,’ or ‘Mainwarings,’ a family that came from the ‘mesnil,’ or ‘manor,’ of ‘Warin,’ in a day when that was a familiar Christian name in Norman households. A few generations later on we find securely settled among ourselves such names as ‘Warin Chapman,’ or ‘Warinus Gerold,’ or ‘Guarinus Banastre,’ in the baptismal, and ‘Warinus Fitz-Warin,’ or ‘John Warison,’ in the patronymic form, holding a steady place in our mediæval rolls. Two of the characters in ‘Piers Plowman,’ as those who have read it will remember, bear this as their personal sobriquet:—

One Waryn Wisdom
And Witty his fere
Followed him faste.

And again—

Then wente Wisdom
And Sire Waryn the Witty
And warnede wrong.

‘Robert Warinot,’ in the Hundred Rolls, and ‘William Warinot’ in the Placita de Quo Warranto, reveal the origin of our ‘Warnetts;’ while our ‘Wareings,’ ‘Warings,’ ‘Warisons,’ ‘Wasons,’ and ‘Fitz-Warins’—often written ‘Fitz-Warren’—not to mention the majority of our ‘Warrens,’ are other of the descendants of this famous old name that still survive. A favourite name in these days was ‘Payn,’ or ‘Pagan.’ The softer form is given us in the ‘Man of Lawes Tale’—

The Constable, and Dame Hermegild his wife,
Were payenes, and that country everywhere.

We all know the history of the word; how that, while the Gospel had made advance in the cities, but not yet penetrated into the country, the dwellers in the latter became looked upon with a something of contempt as idolaters, so that, so far as this word was concerned, ‘countryman’ and ‘false-worshipper’ became synonymous terms. In fact, ‘pagan’ embraced the two meanings that ‘peasant’ and ‘pagan’ now convey, though the root of both is the same. The Normans, it would appear, must have so styled some of themselves who had refused baptism after that their chieftain, Rollo, had become a convert; and hence, when William came over, the name was introduced into England by several of his followers. In Domesday Book we find among his tenants-in-chief the names of ‘Ralph Paganel’ and ‘Edmund fil. Pagani.’ The name became more popular as time went on, and it is no exaggeration to say that at one period—viz., the close of the Norman dynasty—it had threatened to become one of the most familiar appellatives in England. This will account for the frequency with which we meet such entries in the past as ‘Robert fil. Pain,’ ‘Pain del Ash,’ ‘Pagan de la Hale,’ ‘Roger fil. Pagan,’ ‘Payen le Dubbour,’ or ‘Elis le Fitz-Payn,’ and such surnames in the present as ‘Pagan,’ ‘Payne,’ ‘Payn,’ ‘Paine,’ ‘Pain,’ and ‘Pynson.’ The diminutive also was not wanting, as ‘John Paynett’ (Z) or ‘Emma Paynot’ (W 2) could have testified. Thus, while in our dictionaries ‘pagan’ still represents a state of heathenism, in our directories it has long ago been converted to the uses of Christianity, and become at the baptismal font a Christian name. ‘Ivar,’ or ‘Iver,’ still familiarised to Scotchmen in ‘Mac-Iver,’ came to the Normans from the northern lands whence they were sprung, and with them into England. It was not its first appearance here, as St. Ives of Huntingdonshire could have testified in the seventh century. Still its popular character was due to the Norman. Such names as ‘Yvo de Taillbois’ (1211), mentioned in Bishop Pudsey’s ‘Survey of the Durham See,’ ‘Ivo le Mercer,’ ‘Walter fil. Ive,’ ‘William Iveson,’ ‘Iveta Millisent,’ or ‘John fil. Ivette,’ serve to show us how familiar was this appellation with both sexes. Nor are its descendants inclined to let its memory die. We have the simple ‘Ive’ and ‘Ives;’ we have the more patronymic ‘Iverson,’ ‘Ivison,’ ‘Iveson,’ and ‘Ison,’ and the pet ‘Ivetts’ and ‘Ivatts,’ the latter possibly feminine in origin.

‘Hamo,’ or ‘Hamon,’ requires a paragraph for itself. It is firmly imbedded in our existing nomenclature, and has played an important part in its time. Its forms were many, and though obsolete as baptismal names, all have survived as surnames. Of these may be mentioned our ‘Hamons,’ ‘Haymons,’ ‘Aymons,’ and ‘Fitz-Aymons.’ Formed like ‘Rawlyn,’ ‘Thomlin,’ and ‘Cattlin,’ it bequeathed us ‘Hamlyn,’ a relic of such folk as ‘Hamelyn de Trap’ or ‘Osbert Hamelyn.’ Another change rung on the name is traceable in such entries as ‘Hamund le Mestre,’ ‘Hamond Cobeler,’ or ‘John Fitz-Hamond,’ the source of our ‘Hammonds’ and ‘Hamonds;’ while in ‘Alice Hamundson’ or ‘William Hamneson’ we see the lineage of our many ‘Hampsons.’ But these are the least important. The Norman-French diminutive, ‘Hamonet,’ speedily corrupted into ‘Hamnet’ and ‘Hammet,’ became one of our favourite baptismal names, and towards the reign of Elizabeth one of the commonest. A ‘Hamnet de Dokinfield’ is found so early as 1270 at Manchester (Didsbury Ch. Cheth. Soc.). Shakespeare’s son was baptized ‘Hamnet,’ and was so called after ‘Hamnet Sadler,’ a friend of the poet’s—a baker at Stratford. This man is styled ‘Hamlet’ also, reminding us of another pet form of the name. We have already mentioned ‘Richard,’ ‘Christian,’ ‘Hugh,’ and ‘Hobbe,’ as severally giving birth to the diminutives, ‘Rickelot,’ ‘Crestelot,’ ‘Huelot,’ and ‘Hobelot.’ In the same way, ‘Hamon’ became ‘Hamelot,’ or ‘Hamelet,’ hence such entries as ‘Richard, son of Hamelot’ (AA 2), and ‘Hamelot de la Burste’ (Cal. and Inv. of Treasury). Out of fifteen ‘Hamnets’ set down in ‘Wills and Inventories’ (Cheth. Soc.), six are recorded as ‘Hamlet,’ one being set down in both forms as ‘Hamnet Massey’ and ‘Hamlet Massey’ (cf. i. 148, ii. 201). If the reader will look through the index of Blomefield’s ‘Norfolk,’ he will find that ‘Hamlet’ in that county had taken the entire place of ‘Hamnet.’ Amid a large number of the former I cannot find one of the latter. It would be a curious question how far Shakespeare was biassed by the fact of having a ‘Hamlet’ in his nursery into changing ‘Hambleth’ (the original title of the story) to the form he has now immortalized. An open Bible, and, further on, a Puritan spirit have left their influence on no name more markedly than ‘Hamon.’ As one after another new Bible character was commemorated at the font, ‘Hamon’ got crushed out. Its last refuge has been found in our directories, for so long as our ‘Hamlets,’ ‘Hamnets,’ ‘Hammets,’ ‘Hammonds,’ and ‘Hampsons’ exist, it cannot be utterly forgotten.

‘Guy,’ or ‘Guyon,’ dates from the ‘Round Table,’ but it was reserved for the Norman to make his name so familiar to English lips. The best proof of this is that the surnames which it has left to us are all but entirely formed from the Norman-French diminutive ‘Guyot,’ which in England became, of course, ‘Wyot.’ Hence such entries as ‘Wyot fil. Helias,’ or ‘Wyott Carpenter,’ or ‘Wyot Balistarius.’ The descendants of these, I need scarcely say, are our ‘Wyatts.’ But the Norman initial was not entirely lost. ‘Aleyn Gyot’ is found in the ‘Rolls of Parliament;’ and ‘Guyot’ and ‘Guyatt’ testify to its existence in the nineteenth century. ‘Ralph,’ or ‘Radulf,’ of whom there were thirty-eight in Domesday, has survived in a number of forms. Our ‘Raffs’ and ‘Raffsons’ can carry back their descent to days when ‘Raffe Barton’ or ‘Peter Raffson’ thus signed themselves. The favourite pet forms were ‘Rawlin’ and ‘Randle;’ hence such entries as ‘Raulyn de la Fermerie,’ ‘Raulina de Briston,’ or ‘Randle de la Mill.’ To these it is we owe our ‘Rawlins,’ ‘Rawlings,’ ‘Rawlinsons,’ ‘Rollins,’ ‘Rollinsons,’ ‘Randles’ and ‘Randalls.’ Other and more ordinary corruptions are found in ‘Rawes,’ ‘Rawson,’ ‘Rawkins,’ ‘Rapkins,’ and ‘Rapson.’ The reader may easily see from this that ‘Ralph,’ from occupying a place in the foremost rank of early favourites, is content now to stand in the very rear.

There are a number of names still in use, although not so popular as they once were, which were brought in directly by the Normans, and which were closely connected with the real or imaginary stories of which Charlemagne was the central figure. Italy, France, and Spain possess a larger stock than we do of this class, but those which did reach our shores made for themselves a secure position. ‘Charles,’ by some strange accident, did not obtain a place in England, nor is it to be found in our registers, saving in the most isolated instances, till Charles the First, by his misfortunes, made it one of the commonest in the land. In France, as Sir Walter Scott, in ‘Quentin Durward,’ reminds us, the pet form was ‘Charlot’ and ‘Charlat.’ This, as a surname, soon found its way to England, where it has existed for many centuries. The feminine ‘Charlotte,’ since the death of the beloved Princess of that name, has become almost a household word. Putting aside ‘Charles,’ then, the Paladins have bequeathed us ‘Roland,’ ‘Oliver,’ ‘Robert,’ ‘Richard,’ ‘Roger,’ ‘Reginald,’ ‘Reynard,’ and ‘Miles.’ We see at once in these names the parentage of some of our most familiar surnames. ‘Oliver’ was, perhaps, the least popular so far as numbers were concerned, and might have died out entirely had not the Protector Cromwell brought it again into notoriety. ‘Oliver,’ ‘Olver,’ ‘Ollier,’ and ‘Oliverson’ are the present forms, and these are met by such entries as ‘Jordan Olyver,’ or ‘Philip fil. Oliver.’ ‘Roland,’ or ‘Orlando,’ was the nephew of the great Charles, who fell in his peerless might at Roncesvalles. Of him and Oliver, Walter Scott, translating the Norman chronicle, says—

Taillefer, who sang both well and loud,
Came mounted on a courser proud,
Before the Duke the minstrel sprung,
And loud of Charles and Roland sung,
Of Oliver and champions mo,
Who died at fatal Roncevaux.

‘Roland’ was a favourite name among the higher nobility for centuries, and with our ‘Rolands,’ ‘Rowlands,’ ‘Rowlsons,’ and ‘Rowlandsons,’ bids fair to maintain its hold upon our surnames, if not the baptismal list. Old forms are found in such entries as ‘Roland le Lene,’ ‘Rouland Bloet,’ ‘William Rollandson,’ or ‘Robert Rowelyngsonne’! We must not forget, too, that our ‘Rowletts’ and ‘Rowlets’ represent the French diminutive. ‘Robert’ is an instance of a name which has held its place against all counter influences from the moment which first brought it into public favour. It is early made conspicuous in the eldest son of the Bastard King who, through his miserable fate, became such an object of common pity that, though of the hated stock, his sobriquet became acceptable among the Saxons themselves. From that time its fortunes were made, even had not the bold archer of Sherwood Forest risen to the fore, and caused ‘Hob’ to be the title of every other young peasant you might meet ’twixt London and York. A curious instance of the popularity of the latter is found in the fact that a tradesman living in 1388 in Winchelsea is recorded under the name of ‘Thomas Robynhod.’ The diminutives ‘Robynet’ and ‘Robertot’ are obsolete, but of other forms that still thrive among us are ‘Roberts,’ ‘Robarts,’ ‘Robertson,’ ‘Robins,’ ‘Robinson,’ ‘Robison,’ and ‘Robson.’ From its shortened ‘Dob’ are ‘Dobbs,’ ‘Dobson,’ ‘Dobbins,’ ‘Dobinson,’ and ‘Dobison.’ From its equally familiar ‘Hob’ are ‘Hobbs,’ ‘Hobson,’ ‘Hobbins,’ ‘Hopkins,’ and ‘Hopkinson.’ From the Welsh, too, we get, as contractions of ‘Ap-robert’ and ‘Ap-robin,’ ‘Probert’ and ‘Probyn.’ Thus ‘Robert’ is not left without remembrance. Richard was scarcely less popular than Robert. Though already firmly established, for Richard was in the Norman ducal genealogy before William came over the water, still it was reserved for the Angevine monarch, as he had made it the terror of the Paynim, so to make it the pride of the English heart. Richard I. is an instance of a man’s many despicable qualities being forgotten in the dazzling brilliance of daring deeds. He was an ungrateful son, an unkind brother, a faithless husband; but he was the idol of his time, and to him a large mass of English people of to-day owe their nominal existence. From the name proper we get ‘Richards’ and ‘Richardson,’ ‘Ricks’ and ‘Rix,’ ‘Rickson’ and ‘Rixon,’ or ‘Ritson,’ ‘Rickards,’ and ‘Ricketts.’ From the curter ‘Dick’ or ‘Diccon,’ we derive ‘Dicks’ or ‘Dix,’ ‘Dickson’ or ‘Dixon,’ ‘Dickens’ or ‘Diccons,’ and ‘Dickenson’ or ‘Dicconson.’ From ‘Hitchin,’ once nearly as familiar as ‘Dick,’ we get ‘Hitchins,’ ‘Hitchinson,’ ‘Hitchcock,’ and ‘Hitchcox.’ Like many another name, the number of ‘Richards’ now is out of all proportion less than these surnames would ascribe to it some centuries ago. The reason of this we shall speak more particularly about by-and-by. Roger, well known in France and Italy, found much favour in England. From it we derive our ‘Rogers,’ ‘Rodgers,’ and ‘Rogersons.’ From Hodge, its nickname, we acquired ‘Hodge,’ ‘Hodges,’ ‘Hodgkins,’ ‘Hotchkins,’ ‘Hoskins,’ ‘Hodgkinson,’ ‘Hodgson,’ and ‘Hodson,’ and through the Welsh ‘Prodger.’ The diminutive ‘Rogercock’ is found once, but it was ungainly, and I doubt not met with little favour. Reginald, as Rinaldo, immortalized by the Italian poet, appeared in Domesday as ‘Ragenald’ and ‘Rainald.’ Our ‘Reynolds,’ represent the surname. ‘Renaud’ or ‘Renard,’ can never be forgotten while there is a single fox left to display its cunning. The story seems to have been founded on the character of some real personage, but his iniquities did not frighten parents from the use of the name. ‘Renaud Balistarius’ or ‘Adam fil. Reinaud’ are common entries, and ‘Reynardsons’ and ‘Rennisons’ still exist. Our ‘Rankins,’ too, would seem to have originated from this sobriquet since ‘Gilbert Reynkin’ and ‘Richard Reynkyn’ are found in two separate rolls. Miles came into England as ‘Milo,’ that being the form found in Domesday. It was already popular with the Normans, and, like all other personal names from the same source, we find it speedily recorded in a diminutive shape, as ‘Millot’ and ‘Millet.’ ‘Roger Millot’ occurs in the Hundred Rolls, and ‘Thomas Mylett’ in a Yorkshire register of an early date. The patronymics were ‘Mills,’ ‘Miles,’ ‘Millson,’ and ‘Mileson,’ all of which still exist.

The great race for popularity since Domesday record has ever been that between ‘William’ and ‘John.’ In the age immediately following the Conquest ‘William’ decidedly held the supremacy. This is naturally accounted for by its royal associations. There was, indeed, a ‘John’ in the same line of descent as the Bastard from Richard I. of Normandy, but the name seems to have been forgotten, or passed by unheeded, till it was revived again five generations later in ‘John Lackland.’ ‘William’ enjoyed better auspices. It was the name of the founder of the new monarchy. It was the name of his immediate successor. Whatever the character of these two kings, such a conjunction could not but have its weight upon the especially Norman element in the kingdom. We find in Domesday that while there are 68 ‘Williams,’ 48 ‘Roberts,’ and 28 ‘Walters,’ there are only 10 ‘Johns.’ A century later than this, ‘William’ must still have claimed precedence among the nobility at least, as is proved by a statement of Robert Montensis. He says, that at a festival held in the court of Henry II., in 1173, Sir William St. John and Sir William Fitz-Hamon, especial officers, had commanded that none but those of the name of ‘William’ should dine in the Great Chamber with them, and were, therefore, accompanied by one hundred and twenty ‘Williams,’ all knights. By the time of Edward I. this disproportion had become less marked. In a list of names connected with the county of Wiltshire in that reign, we find, out of a total of 588 decipherable names (for the record is somewhat damaged), 92 ‘Williams’ to 88 ‘Johns,’ while ‘Richard’ is credited with 55; ‘Robert,’ 48; ‘Roger,’ 23; and ‘Geoffrey,’ ‘Ralph,’ and ‘Peter,’ each 16 names. This denotes clearly that a considerable change had taken place in the popular estimation of these two appellations. Within a century after this, however, ‘John’ had evidently gained the supremacy. In 1347, we find that out of 133 Common Councilmen for London town first convened, 35 were ‘Johns,’ the next highest being 17 under the head of ‘William,’ 15 under ‘Thomas,’ which now, for obvious reasons we will mention hereafter, had suddenly sprung into notoriety; 10 under ‘Richard,’ 9 under ‘Henry,’ 8 under ‘Robert,’ and so on; ending with one each for ‘Laurence,’ ‘Reynald,’ ‘Andrew,’ ‘Alan,’ ‘Giles,’ ‘Gilbert,’ and ‘Peter.’ A still greater disproportion is found forty years later; for in 1385, the Guild of St. George, at Norwich, out of a total of 376 names, possessed 128 ‘Johns’ to 47 ‘Williams’ and 41 ‘Thomases.’ From this period, despite the hatred that was felt for Lackland, ‘John’ kept the precedence it had won, and to this circumstance the nation owes the sobriquet it now generally receives, that of ‘John Bull.’ Long ago, however, under the offensive title of ‘Jean Gotdam,’ we had become known as a people given to strange and unpleasant oaths. It is interesting to trace the way in which ‘William’ has again recovered itself in later days. Throughout the Middle Ages it occupied a sturdy second place, fearless of any rival beyond the one that had supplanted it. Its dark hour was the Puritan Commonwealth. As a Pagan name it was rejected with horror and disdain. From the day of the Protestant settlement and William’s accession, however, it again looked up from the cold shade into which it had fallen, and now once more stands easily, as eight centuries ago, at the head of our baptismal registers. ‘John,’ on the other hand, though it had the advantage of being in no way hateful to the Puritan conscience, has, from one reason or another, gone down in the world, and now has again resumed its early place as second.

The surnames that have descended to us from ‘William’ and ‘John’ are well-nigh numberless—far too many for enumeration here. To begin with the former, however, we find that the simple ‘Williams’ and ‘Williamson’ occupy whole pages of our directories. Besides these, we have from the curter ‘Will,’ ‘Wills,’ ‘Willis,’ and ‘Wilson;’ from the diminutive ‘Guillemot’ or ‘Gwillot,’ as it is often spelt in olden records. ‘Gillot,’ ‘Gillott,’ and ‘Gillett;’ or from ‘Williamot,’ the more English form of the same, ‘Willmot,’ ‘Wilmot,’ ‘Willot,’ ‘Willet,’ and ‘Willert.’ In conjunction with the pet addenda, we get ‘Wilks,’ ‘Wilkins,’ and ‘Wilkinson,’ and ‘Wilcox,’ ‘Wilcocson,’ and ‘Wilcockson.’ Lastly, we have representatives of the more corrupt forms in such names as ‘Weeks,’ ‘Wickens,’ ‘Wickenson,’ and ‘Bill’ and ‘Bilson.’ Mr. Lower, who does not quote any authority for the statement, alleges that there was an old provincial nickname for ‘William’—viz., ‘Till;’ whence ‘Tilson,’ ‘Tillot,’ ‘Tillotson,’ and ‘Tilly.’ That these are sprung from ‘Till’ is evident, but there can be no reasonable doubt that this is but the still existing curtailment of ‘Matilda,’ which, as the most familiar female name of that day, would originate many a family so entitled. ‘Tyllott Thompson’ is a name occurring in York in 1414. Thus it is to the Conqueror’s wife, and not himself, these latter owe their rise. It is not the first time a wife’s property has thus been rudely wrenched from her for her husband’s benefit. The surnames from ‘John’ are as multifarious as is possible in the case of a monosyllable, ingenuity in the contraction thereof being thus manifestly limited. As ‘John’ simple it is very rare; but this has been well atoned for by ‘Jones,’ which, adding ‘John’ again as a prænomen, would be (as has been well said by the Registrar-General) in Wales a perpetual incognito, and being proclaimed at the cross of a market town would indicate no one in particular. Certainly ‘John Jones,’ in the Principality, is but a living contradiction to the purposes for which names and surnames came into existence. Besides this, however, we have ‘Johnson’ and ‘Jonson,’ ‘Johncock’ and ‘Jenkins,’ ‘Jennings’ and ‘Jenkinson,’ ‘Jackson’ and ‘Jacox,’ and ‘Jenks;’ which latter, however, now bids fair, under the patronage of ‘Ginx’s Baby,’ to be found for the future in a new and more quaint dress than it has hitherto worn. Besides several of the above, it is to the Welsh, also, we owe our ‘Ivens,’ ‘Evans,’ and ‘Bevans’ (i.e. Ap-Evan), which are but sprung from the same name. The Flemings, too, have not suffered their form of it to die out for lack of support; for it is with the settlement of ‘Hans,’ a mere abbreviation of ‘Johannes,’ we are to date the rise of our familiar ‘Hansons,’ ‘Hankins,’ ‘Hankinsons,’ and ‘Hancocks,’ or ‘Handcocks.’ Nor is this all. ‘John’ enjoyed the peculiar prerogative of being able to attach to itself adjectives of a flattering, or at least harmless nature, and issuing forth and becoming accepted by the world therewith. Thus—though we shall have to notice it again—from the praiseworthy effort to distinguish the many ‘Johns’ each community possessed, we have still in our midst such names as ‘Prujean’ and ‘Grosjean,’ ‘Micklejohn’ and ‘Littlejohn,’ ‘Properjohn’ and ‘Brownjohn,’ and last, but not least, the estimable ‘Bonjohn.’ Do we need to go on to prove ‘Jack’s’ popularity, or rather universality? Every stranger was ‘Jack’ till he was found to be somebody else; so that ‘every man Jack of them’ has been a kind of general lay-baptism for ages. Every young supernumerary, whose position and age gave the licence, was in the eye of his superiors simply ‘Jack.’ As one instrument after another, however, was brought into use, by which manual service was rendered unnecessary and ‘Jack’ unneeded, instead of superannuating him he was quietly thrust into the new and inanimate office, and what with ‘boot-jacks’ and ‘black-jacks,’ ‘jack-towels’ and ‘smoke-jacks,’ ‘jacks’ for this and ‘jacks’ for that, no wonder people have begun to speak unkindly of him as ‘Jack-of-all-trades and master of none.’ Still, with this uncomplimentary tone, there was a smack of praise. A notion, at any rate, got abroad that ‘Jack’ must be a knowing, clever, sharp-witted sort of fellow, one who has his eyes open. So we got into the way of associating him with the more lively of the birds, beasts, and fishes; such, for instance, as the ‘jack-daw,’ the ‘jack-an-apes,’ and the ‘jack-pike.’ But ‘familiarity,’ as our copybooks long ago informed us, ‘breeds contempt;’ and so was it with ‘Jack’—he became a mark for ridicule. Even in Chaucer’s day ‘jack-fool’ or ‘jack-pudding’ was the synonym for a buffoon, and ‘jackass’ for a dolt; and here it but nationalises the ‘zany,’ a corruption of the Italian ‘Giovanni,’ or ‘merry-John,’ corresponding to our ‘merry-Andrew.’ ‘Jack of Dover’ also existed at the same period as a cant term for a clever knave, and that it still lived in the seventeenth century is clear from Taylor’s rhyme, where he says:—

Nor Jacke of Dover, that grand jury Jacke,
Nor Jack-sauce, the worst knave amongst the pack,
But of the Jacke of Jackes, great Jack-a-Lent,
To write his worthy acts is my intent.

Altogether, we may claim for ‘John’ a prominent, if not distinguished, position in the annals of English nomenclature. Nor must we forget ‘Joan,’ until Tudor days the general form of the present ‘Jane.’ Then ‘some of the better and nicer sort,’ as Camden saith, ‘misliking the former, turned it into “Jane”;’ and in testimony of this he adds that ‘Jane’ is never found in older records. This is strictly true. There can be little doubt that when the fair queen of Henry VIII. gave distinction to the name it became a courtly fashion to give it a different form from that borne by the multitude, and thus ‘Jane’ arose. Thus ‘Joan’ was left, as Miss Yonge says, ‘to the cottage and the kitchen;’ and there, indeed, it lingered on for a long period. Of many another could Shakespeare have sung:—

Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who.
To-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Previously to this, anyway, both queens and princesses had been content with ‘Joan.’ I doubt not, with regard to several of the surnames above-mentioned, ‘John’ must, if the truth be told, share the honours of origination with ‘Joan;’ nor do I think ‘Jennison’ peculiar to the latter. What with ‘John’ and ‘Jean’ for the masculine, and ‘Joan’ and ‘Jenny’ for the feminine, I do not see how the two could possibly escape confusion. ‘Jones’ and ‘Joanes,’ and ‘Jane’ and ‘Jayne,’ to say nothing of ‘Jennings,’ seem as like hereditary from the one as the other. Two feminines from ‘Jack,’ viz. ‘Jacquetta’ and ‘Jacqueline,’ were not unknown in England; ‘Jacquetta Knokyn’ (AA 3), ‘Jackett Toser’ (Z). The latter was the more common, and bequeathed us a surname ‘Jacklin,’ which still exists. It is found on an old bell:—

This bell was broke and cast againe, as plainly doth appeare,
John Draper made me in 1618, wich tyme churchwardens were,
Edward Dixson for the one, who stood close to his tacklin,
And he that was his partner there was Alexander Jacklin.

(Book of Days, i. 303.)

The peasant’s leather jerkin, corresponding to the more lordly coat of mail, was a jack whence the diminutive jacket. The more warlike dress gave rise to the name of ‘Jackman,’ of which more anon.

The Angevine dynasty gave a new impulse to some already popular names, and may be said in reality to have introduced, although not altogether unknown, several new ones. The two which owe the security of their establishment to it are ‘Geoffrey’ and ‘Fulke.’ The grandfather, the father, a brother, and a son of Henry II. were ‘Geoffrey;’ and still earlier than this, ‘Geoffrey Grisegonelle,’ ‘Geoffrey Martel,’ and ‘Geoffrey Barbu’ had each in turn set their mark upon the same. Apart from these influences, too, the stories brought home by the Crusaders of the prowess of Godfrey, the conqueror of Jerusalem, must have had their wonted effect in a day of such martial renown. Such surnames as ‘Jeffs,’ ‘Jeffries,’ ‘Jefferson,’ ‘Jeffcock,’ ‘Jeffkins,’ ‘Jephson,’ and ‘Jepson’ still record the share it had obtained in English esteem. ‘Fulke,’ or ‘Fulque,’ though there had been six so early as Domesday Book, when it came backed as it was by the fact of having given title to five Angevine rulers, got an inevitable place. Few Christian names were so common as this in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. But it was an ungainly one, difficult to pronounce, and difficult to form into a patronymic. Thus, ‘Faxson’ and ‘Fawson’ are the only longer forms I can find as at present existing, while the variously spelt ‘Fulkes,’ ‘Foulkes,’ ‘Fakes,’ ‘Faux,’ ‘Fawkes,’ ‘Faulks,’ ‘Fowkes,’ ‘Folkes,’ ‘Foakes,’ and doubtless sometimes ‘Fox,’ serve to show how hard it was to hand it down in its original integrity. The entries in our mediæval registers are equally varied. We light upon such people as ‘Fowlke Grevill,’ ‘Fowke Crompton,’ ‘Fulk Paifrer,’ ‘Fulke le Taverner,’ ‘Foke Odell,’ ‘Faukes le Buteller,’ ‘Nel Faukes,’ and ‘John Faux.’ As an English historic name it has given us two miscreants; the hateful favourite of John, outlawed by Henry III., and the still more sanguinary villain of James I.’s day, in whose dishonour we still pile up the blazing logs in the gloomy nights of November. Henry, again, or more properly speaking Harry, owes much to the Plantagenets, for but three are to be found in Domesday. With its long line of monarchs, albeit it represented a curious mixture of good, bad, and indifferent qualities, that dynasty could not but stamp itself decisively on our registers. Thus, we have still plenty of ‘Henrys,’ ‘Harrises,’ ‘Harrisons,’ ‘Hallets,’ ‘Halkets,’ ‘Hawkinses,’ and ‘Hawkinsons;’ to say nothing of the Welsh ‘Parrys’ and ‘Penrys.’ (‘Thomas Ap-Harry,’ D. ‘Hugh Ap-harrye,’ Z.) The Norman diminutive was early used, as such folk as ‘Alicia Henriot,’ ‘Robert Henriot,’ ‘Heriot Heringflet,’ ‘Thomas Haryette,’ or ‘William Haryott’ could have borne witness. ‘Harriot,’ or ‘Harriet,’ has been revived in recent days as a feminine baptismal name. ‘Hawkin,’ or ‘Halkin,’ however, was perhaps the most popular form. Langland represents Conscience as saying:—

Thi beste cote, Haukyn,
Hath manye moles and spottes,
It moste ben y-wasshe.

Baldwin had already appeared at the Conquest, for an aunt of William’s had married Baldwin, Earl of Flanders, and he himself was espoused to Matilda, daughter of the fifth ‘Baldwin’ of that earldom. No doubt the Flemings brought in fresh accessions, and when we add to this the fact of its being by no means an unpopular Angevine name, we can readily see why ‘Balderson,’ ‘Bolderson,’ ‘Balcock,’ ‘Bodkin,’ and the simple ‘Baldwin,’ have maintained a quiet but steady position in the English lists ever since. Thus, the Plantagenets are not without memorials, even in the nineteenth century.