English Surnames: Their Sources and Significations
Date: 2019-07-21T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Names; Personal -- English; English

The Project Gutenberg eBook of English Surnames: Their Sources and Significations

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: English Surnames: Their Sources and Significations

Author: Charles Wareing Endell Bardsley

Release date: July 21, 2019 [eBook #59959]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by MWS, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH SURNAMES: THEIR SOURCES AND SIGNIFICATIONS ***

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

ENGLISH SURNAMES.

LONDON: PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET

ENGLISH SURNAMES:

THEIR

SOURCES AND SIGNIFICATIONS.

BY

CHARLES WAREING BARDSLEY, M.A.

SECOND EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED

London:

CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY.

1875.

TO

MY FATHER.

PREFACE

TO

THE SECOND EDITION.

I accept the early demand for a new edition of my book, not so much as proof of the value of my individual work, as of the increased interest which is being taken in this too much neglected subject. In deference to the wholesome advice of many reviewers, both in the London and Provincial press, especially that of the ‘Times’ and the ‘Athenæum,’ I have re-arranged the whole of the chapters on ‘Patronymics’ and ‘Nicknames,’ subdividing the same under convenient heads. By so doing the names which bear any particular relationship to one another will be found more closely allied than they were under their former more general treatment.

My book has met with much criticism, partly favourable, partly adverse, from different quarters. To my reviewers in general I offer my best thanks for their comments. The ‘Saturday Review’—and I say it the more readily as they will see that I have not been insensible to the value of their criticism—has not, I think, sufficiently understood the nature of my work. I am well aware that praise is due to them for having for some length of time strenuously advocated the claim of our language to be English through all its varying stages. I do not see that in the general character of my book I have lost sight of this fact. An ‘English Directory’ is not an ‘English Dictionary.’ The influences that have been at work on our language are not the same as those upon our nomenclature. Every social casualty had an effect upon our names which it could not have upon our words. The names found in Domesday Book, casting aside the new importation, were, in the great majority of cases, obsolete by the end of the twelfth century, and of those which have survived and descended to us as surnames, well-nigh all are devoid of diminutive or patronymic desinences—a clear proof that they were utterly out of fashion as personal names during the era of surname formation. The Norman invasion was not a conquest of our language, but it was of our nomenclature. The ‘Saturday Review’ may still demand that we shall view all as English, and obliterate the distinctive terms of Saxon and Norman, but in doing so let us not forget facts. The language which preceded the Norman Conquest is still the vehicle of ordinary converse. The nomenclature of that period went down like Pharaoh’s chariot, and like Pharaoh’s chariot, which for all I know lies where it did, was never recovered.

A review in the ‘Guardian’ demands a brief notice on account of the mischief it may do. The end kept in view by the reviewer is as transparent as his inability to reach it. Surely the day is past for any further attempt to make out that we have no metronymic surnames. The writer is evidently unaware of the fact that the use of ‘ie’ and ‘y,’ as in ‘Teddy’ or ‘Johnnie,’ in the nineteenth century, does not prevail to as great an extent as that of ‘ot’ and ‘et’ from the twelfth to the fifteenth. As ‘Philip’ became ‘Philipot,’ now ‘Philpott’; as ‘William,’ ‘Williamot,’ now ‘Wilmott’; as ‘Hew’ (or Hugh), ‘Hewet’ and ‘Hewetson’; as ‘Ellis’ (or Elias), ‘Elliot’ and ‘Elliotson’; so ‘Till’ (Matilda) became ‘Tillot’ and ‘Tillotson’; ‘Emme’ (Emma), ‘Emmott,’ ‘Emmett,’ and ‘Emmotson’; ‘Ibbe’ (Isabella), ‘Ibbott,’ ‘Ibbett,’ and ‘Ibbotson’; ‘Mary,’ ‘Mariot’ and ‘Marriott’; and ‘Siss’ (Cecilia), ‘Sissot’ and ‘Sissotson.’ ‘Emmot,’ the writer says, is a form of ‘Amyas,’ I suppose because he saw ‘Amyot’ in Miss Yonge’s glossary. According to him, therefore, Emmot is a masculine name. How comes it to pass, then, that Emmot is always Latinised as Emmota, or that in our old marriage licences ‘Richard de Akerode’ gets a dispensation to marry ‘Emmotte de Greenwood’ (Test. Ebor. iii. 317), or ‘Roger Prestwick’ to marry ‘Emmote Crossley’ (ditto, 338)? How is it we meet with such entries as ‘Cissota West,’ (Index) or ‘Syssot that was wife of Patrick’ (69)? How is it again that Mariot is registered as ‘Mariota in le Lane,’ or ‘John fil. Mariotæ,’ and Ibbot or Ibbet as ‘Ibbota fil. Adæ,’ or ‘Robert fil. Ibotæ,’ (Index)? The fact is, we have a large class of metronymics many of which doubtless arose from posthumous birth, or from adoption, or the more important character of the mother in the eyes of the neighbours than the father, others too from illegitimacy.

Amongst other errors for which I have been called to account, the oddest is that of attributing to Miss Muloch the authorship of Miss Yonge’s most useful and laborious work on Christian names. I do not know to which lady I owe the deepest apology—whether to Miss Yonge for robbing her literary crown of one of its brightest jewels, or to Miss Muloch for appearing to insinuate that hers was incomplete. This and several other mistakes of less moment I have rectified in the present edition.

I have to thank the authoress of ‘Mistress Margery,’ etc., for the names in the index marked QQ., RR. 1, RR. 2, and RR. 3. Such entries from the registry of St. James’s, Piccadilly (QQ.), as ‘Repentance Tompson’ (1688), ‘Loving Bell’ (1693), ‘Nazareth Rudde’ (1695), ‘Obedience Clerk’ (1697), or ‘Unity Thornton’ (1703), may be set beside the instances recorded on pp. 102–104. To these I would take this opportunity of adding ‘Comfort Starre,’ ‘Hopestill Foster,’ ‘Love Brewster,’ ‘Fear Brewster,’ ‘Patience Brewster,’ ‘Remembrance Tibbott,’ ‘Remember Allerton,’ ‘Desire Minter,’ ‘Original Lewis,’ and ‘Thankes Sheppard,’ all being names of emigrants from England in the 17th century. (Vide Hotten’s ‘Original Lists of Persons of Quality.’)

February 1875.

PREFACE

TO

THE FIRST EDITION.

As prefaces are very little read, I will make this as brief as possible. It is strange how little has been written upon the sources and significations of our English surnames. Of books of Peerage, of Baronetage, and of Landed Gentry, thanks to Sir Bernard Burke, Mr. Walford, and others, we are not without a sufficiency; but of books purporting to treat of the ordinary surnames that greet our eye as we scan our shop-fronts, or look down a list of contributions, or glance over the ‘hatches, matches, and despatches’ of our newspapers—of these there are but few. Indeed, putting aside Mr. Lower’s able and laborious researches, we may say none. Tracts, pamphlets, short treatises, articles in magazines, have at various times appeared, but they have been necessarily confined and limited in their treatment of the subject.[1] And yet what can be more natural than that we should desire to know something relating to the origin of our surname, when it arose, who first got it, and how? Of the feebleness of my own attempt to solve all this I am conscious that I need not to be reminded. Still, I think the ordinary reader will find in a perusal of this book some slight increase of information, and if not this, that he has whiled away, not unpleasantly, some of his less busy hours.

During the last seven years I have devoted the whole of my spare time to the preparation of a ‘Dictionary of English Surnames.’ But about two years ago it struck me that perhaps a smaller work dealing with the subject in a less formal and more familiar style might not be unacceptable to many, as a kind of rudimentary treatise. In the course of my labours I have come under obligations to several writers and several Societies. To long-departed men, whose works do follow after them, I must give a passing allusion. Camden was the first to draw attention to this subject, and though he wrote little, and that little not of the most correct kind, still he has afforded the groundwork for all future students. Verstegan, who came next with his ‘Restitution of Decayed Intelligence,’ wrote quaintly, amusingly and incorrectly; and, with respect to surnames, his definitions rather teach what they do not than what they do mean. Passing over several archæological papers, and with a wide gap in regard to time, we come to Mr. Lower’s studies. He was the first to give a real compendium of English nomenclature. Of his earlier efforts I will say nothing, for the ‘Patronymica Britannica’ is that upon which his fame must rest. The fault of that work is that the author has confined his researches all but entirely to the Hundred Rolls. These Rolls are undoubtedly the best for such reference; but there are many others, as my index will show, which not merely contain a large mass of examples not to be met with there, but which, by varieties of spelling in the case of such names as they share in common with the other, afford comparisons the use of which would have made him certain where he has only guessed, and would have enabled him also to avoid many false conclusions. This I would say with all respect, as one who has benefited very considerably by Mr. Lower’s labours. Others I must thank more briefly, though none the less heartily. To Mr. Halliwell I am under deep obligation, for to his ‘Dictionary of Archaisms’ I have gone freely by way of quotation. To Mr. Way’s notes to his valuable edition of the ‘Promptorium Parvulorum’ I am also indebted for much interesting information regarding mediæval life and its surroundings. Miss Yonge’s ‘History of Christian Names’ contains a large store of help to students of this kind of lore, and of this I have availed myself in several instances. In conclusion, I have to acknowledge much valuable aid received from the publications of the Surtees Society, the Early English Text Society, the Camden Society, and the Chetham Society. It is in the rooms belonging to the latter that I have had the opportunity of consulting most of the records and archives, a list of which prefaces my index, as well as other books of a more incidentally helpful character, and I cannot allow this opportunity to pass without tendering my hearty thanks to Thomas Jones, Esq., B.A., F.S.A., for his courtesy in permitting me access to all parts of the library, and to Mr. Richard Hanby, the under-librarian, for his constant attention and readiness to supply me with whatever books I required.

Manchester:

December 1873.

PREFACE

TO THE

INDEX OF INSTANCES.

There are several matters which I deem it advisable to mention to the reader before he turns his attention to the Index of Instances (pp. 514–612).

I. I have not, in the various chapters that form the body of this book, in all cases drawn particular attention when any name happens to belong to several distinct classes. In the Index, however, I have tried to remedy this by furnishing instances under the several heads to which they have been assigned in the text.

II. While ordinarily adhering to my plan of giving but two examples, I have set down three in some instances that seemed more interesting, and in exceptional cases even four. To the majority of the appended surnames more illustrations of course could have been added had it been expedient or necessary. There are several names, however, which, though evidently of familiar occurrence in early days, as they are now, are yet, so far as my own researches go, without any record. For instance, I cannot find any Arkwright or Runchiman previous to the sixteenth century. The origin is perfectly clear, but the registry is wanting. Of several others, again, I can light upon but one entry. Still, in a matter like this one must be thankful for small mercies, and it was with no small amount of rejoicing that in such a simple record as that of ‘John Sykelsmith’ I found the progenitor, or one of the progenitors, of our many ‘Sucksmiths,’ ‘Sixsmiths,’ ‘Shuxsmiths,’ etc.

III. There has been a difficulty with regard to Christian names also, which I have not attempted to overcome because it was impossible to do so. With the Normans every baptismal name, masculine or feminine as it might originally be, was the common property of the sexes. Thus by simply appending the feminine desinence, ‘Druett’ became ‘Druetta’ (v. Drewett), ‘Williamet’ became ‘Williametta’ (v. Williamot), ‘Aylbred’ became ‘Aylbreda’ (v. Allbright), ‘Raulin’ became ‘Raulina’ (v. Rawlings), and ‘Goscelin’ became ‘Goscelina’ (v. Gosling). Any of these surnames, Drewett, Willmott, Allbright, Rawlings, or Gosling, therefore, may be of feminine origin—nay, if the reader has studied my chapter on ‘Patronymic Surnames’ with any care, he will see that this is fully as probable as the opposite view. Leaving thus undecided what cannot be solved, I have placed both masculine and feminine forms under the one surname to which one or other has given rise.

IV. There has been another difficulty also in respect of Christian names. These, as has been shown in the chapter thereupon, were turned into pet forms, and these shortened forms commonly came to be the foundation of the surname. In all the more formal registers, however, these surnames were never so set down. ‘Hugh Thomasson,’ ‘William Thompson,’ and ‘Henry Tomson’ might come to have their names enrolled, and up to the beginning of the sixteenth century at least they would be set down alike as ‘Hugh fil. Thomas,’ ‘William fil. Thomas,’ and ‘Henry fil. Thomas.’ Thus, again, ‘Ralph Higginson’ or ‘John Higgins’ would be ‘Radulphus’ or ‘Johannes fil. Isaac.’ This has prevented me from giving so many instances of these curter forms of the patronymic class as I should have liked. When they are given, the reader will observe that they come from less punctilious and more irregular sources, such as for instance the Surtees’ Society’s collection of Mediæval Yorkshire Wills and Inventories. Where I have given such an instance as ‘Elekyn’ (v. Elkins) by itself, it must be understood that this is the Christian name, and that the owner when his or her name was registered did not boast a surname at all.

V. By way of interesting the reader I have occasionally given the Latin form of entry. Thus ‘Adam the Goldsmith’ is set down as ‘Adam Aurifaber’ (v. Aurifaber), ‘Henry the Butcher’ as ‘Henry Carnifex’ (v. Carnifex), and ‘Hugh the Tailor’ as ‘Hugh Cissor’ (v. Cissor). Latin, indeed, seems to have been the vehicle of ordinary indenture. Thus under ‘Littlejohn’ the reader will find extracted from the Hundred Rolls ‘Ricardus fil. Parvi-Johannis,’ and under ‘Linota,’ ‘Linota Vidua,’ i.e. ‘Linota the Widow.’ In the recording of local names, Norman-French and Saxon seem to have fought for the first place, and even in our most formal registers they had the precedence over Latin. Thus if the latter can boast the entry of ‘Isolda Beauchamp’ as ‘Isolda de Bello Campo’ (v. Beauchamp), still, if we come to such generic names as Briggs or Brook, we find the entry is all but invariably either ‘Henry Atte-brigg’ or ‘Roger del Brigge’ (v. Briggs), or ‘Alice de la Broke or ‘Ada ate Brok’ (v. Brook). As respects nicknames or names of occupation, the Norman-French tongue had them to itself. ‘Roger le Buck,’ ‘Philip le Criour,’ ‘Thomas le Cuchold,’ ‘Osbert le Curteys,’ or ‘Thomas le Cupper’—such is their continuous form of entry. Such a Saxon enrolment as ‘Robert the Brochere’ (v. Broker) is of the rarest occurrence—so rare, indeed, as to make one feel it was an undoubted freak on the part of the registrar, whoever he might be.

VI. In some few cases I have set down surnames which are not treated of in the text. I have done this either because the name seemed worthy of this casual notice, or because, though not itself mentioned, it happened to corroborate some statement I have made regarding a particular name belonging to the same class.

In conclusion, I will not say there is no mistake in the Index—that would be a bold thing to state; I will not say that I may not have given an instance that does not rightly belong to the surname under which it is set; but I can asseverate that I have honestly attempted to be correct, and I believe a careful examination will find but the most occasional error, if any at all, of this class.

CONTENTS.

| PAGE
Preface to the Second Edition | vii
Preface to the First Edition | xiii
Preface to the Index of Instances | xvii
Introductory Chapter | 1

CHAPTER I.

Patronymic Surnames | 9

CHAPTER II.

Local Surnames | 107

CHAPTER III.

Surnames of Office | 172

CHAPTER IV.

Surnames of Occupation (Country) | 243

CHAPTER V.

Surnames of Occupation (Town) | 317
Appendix to Chapters IV. and V. | 415

CHAPTER VI.

Nicknames | 423

Index of Instances | 515
Footnotes | 711

ENGLISH SURNAMES.

INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.

To review the sources of a people’s nomenclature is to review that people’s history. When we remember that there is nothing without a name, and that every name that is named, whether it be of a man, or man’s work, or man’s heritage of earth, came not by chance, or accident so called, but was given out of some nation’s spoken language to denote some characteristic that language expressed, we can readily imagine how important is the drift of each—what a record must each contain. We cannot but see that could we only grasp their true meaning, could we but take away the doubtful crust in which they are oftentimes imbedded, then should we be speaking out of the very mouth of history itself. For names are enduring—generations come and go; and passing on with each, they become all but everlasting. Nomenclature, in fact, is a well in which, as the fresh water is flowing perennially through, there is left a sediment that clings to the bottom. This silty deposit may accumulate—nay, it may threaten to choke it up, still the well is there. It but requires to be exhumed, and we shall behold it in all its simple proportions once more. And thus it is with names. They betoken life and matter that is ever coming and going, ever undergoing change and decay. But through it all they abide. The accretions of passing years may fasten upon them—the varied accidents of lapsing time may attach to them—they may become all but undistinguishable, but only let us get rid of that which cleaves to them, and we lay bare in all its naked simplicity the character and the lineaments of a long gone era. Look for instance at our place-names. Apart from their various corruptions they are as they were first entitled. So far as the nomenclature of our country itself is concerned, England is at this present day as rude, as untutored, and as heathen as at the moment those Norwegian and Germanic hordes grounded their keels upon our shores, for all our place-names, saving where the Celt still lingers, are their bequest, and bear upon them the impress of their life and its surroundings. These are they which tell us such strange truths—how far they had made progress as yet in the arts of life, what were the habits they practised, what was the religion they believed in. And as with place-names, so with our own. As records of past history they are equally truthful, equally suggestive. One important difference, however, there is—Place-names, as I have just hinted, once given are all but imperishable. Mountains, valleys, and streams still, as a rule, retain the names first given them. Personal names, those simple individual names which we find in use throughout all pre-Norman history, were but for the life of him to whom they were attached. They died with him, nor passed on saving accidentally. Nor were those second designations, those which we call surnames as being ‘superadded to Christian names,’ at first of any lasting character. It was not till the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, or even fourteenth centuries that they became hereditary—that is, in any true sense stationary.

Before, however, we enter into the history of these, and with regard to England that is the purpose of this book, it will be well to take a brief survey of the actual state of human nomenclature in preceding times. Surnames, we must remember, were the simple result of necessity when population, hitherto isolated and small, became so increased as to necessitate further particularity than the merely personal one could supply. One name, therefore, was all that was needed in early times, and one name, as a general rule, is all that we find. The Bible is, of course, our first record of these—‘Adam,’ ‘Eve,’ ‘Joseph,’ ‘Barak,’ ‘David,’ ‘Isaiah,’ all were simple, single, and expressive titles, given in most cases from some circumstances attending their creation or birth. When the Israelites were crowded together in the wilderness they were at once involved in difficulties of identification. We cannot imagine to ourselves how such a population as that of Manchester or Birmingham could possibly get on with but single appellations. Of course I do not put this by way of real comparison, for with the Jewish clan or family system this difficulty must have been materially overcome. Still it is no wonder that in the later books of Moses we should find them falling back upon this patronymic as a means of identifying the individual. Thus such expressions as ‘Joshua the son of Nun,’ or ‘Caleb the son of Jephunah,’ or ‘Jair the son of Manasseh,’ are not unfrequently to be met with. Later on, this necessity was caused by a further circumstance. Certain of these single names became popular over others. ‘John,’ ‘Simon,’ and ‘Judas’ were such. A further distinction, therefore, was necessary. This gave rise to sobriquets of a more diverse character. We find the patronymic still in use, as in ‘Simon Barjonas,’ that is, ‘Simon the son of Jonas;’ but in addition to this, we have also the local element introduced, as in ‘Simon of Cyrene,’ and the descriptive in ‘Simon the Zealot.’ Thus, again, we have ‘Judas Iscariot,’ whatever that may mean, for commentators are divided upon the subject; ‘Judas Barsabas,’ and ‘Judas of Galilee.’ In the meantime the heathen but polished nations of Greece and Rome had been adopting similar means, though the latter was decidedly the first in method. Among the former, such double names as ‘Dionysius the Tyrant,’ ‘Diogenes the Cynic,’ ‘Socrates the son of Sophronicus,’ or ‘Hecatæus of Miletus,’ show the same custom, and the same need. To the Roman, however, belongs, as I have said, the earliest system of nomenclature, a system, perhaps, more careful and precise than any which has followed after. The purely Roman citizen had a threefold name. The first denoted the ‘prænomen,’ and answered to our personal, or baptismal, name. The second was what we may term the clan-name; and the third, the cognomen, corresponded with our present surname. Thus we have such treble appellations as ‘Marcus Tullius Cicero,’ or ‘Aulus Licinius Archeas.’ If a manumitted slave had the citizenship conferred upon him, his single name became his cognomen, and the others preceded it, one generally being the name of him who was the emancipator. Thus was it of ‘Licinius’ in the last-mentioned instance. With the overthrow of the Western Empire, however, this system was lost, and the barbarians who settled upon its ruins brought back the simple appellative once more. Arminius, their chief hero, was content with that simple title. Alaric, the brave King of the Goths, is only so known. Caractacus and Vortigern, to come nearer home, represented but the same custom.

But we are not without traces of those descriptive epithets which had obtained among the earlier communities of the East. The Venerable Bede, speaking of two missionaries, both of whom bore the name of ‘Hewald,’ says, ‘pro diversâ capellorum specie unus Niger Hewald, alter Albus diceretur;’ that is, in modern parlance, the colour of their hair being different, they came to be called ‘Hewald Black,’ and ‘Hewald White.’ Another Saxon, distinguished for his somewhat huge proportions, and bearing the name of ‘Ethelred,’ was known as ‘Mucel,’ or ‘Great,’ a word still lingering in the Scottish mickle. We may class him, therefore, with our ‘le Grands,’ as we find them inscribed in the Norman rolls, the progenitors of our ‘Grants,’ and ‘Grands,’ or our ‘Biggs,’ as Saxon as himself. Thus again, our later ‘Fairfaxes,’ ‘Lightfoots,’ ‘Heavisides,’ and ‘Slows,’ are but hereditary nicknames like to the earlier ‘Harfagres,’ ‘Harefoots,’ ‘Ironsides,’ and ‘Unreadys,’ which died out, so far as their immediate possessors went, with the ‘Harolds,’ and ‘Edmunds,’ and ‘Ethelreds,’ upon whom they were severally foisted. They were but expressions of popular feeling to individual persons by means of which that individuality was increased, and, as with every other instance I have mentioned hitherto, passed away with the lives of their owners. No descendant succeeded to the title. The son, in due course of time, got a sobriquet of his own, by which he was familiarly known, but that, too, was but personal and temporary. It was no more hereditary than had been his father’s before him, and even so far as himself was concerned might be again changed according to the humour or caprice of his neighbours and acquaintances. And this went on for several more centuries, only as population increased these sobriquets became but more and more common.

In the eleventh and twelfth centuries, however, a change took place. By a silent and unpremeditated movement over the whole of the more populated and civilized European societies, nomenclature began to assume a solid lasting basis. It was the result, in fact, of an insensibly growing necessity. Population was on the increase, commerce was spreading, and society was fast becoming corporate. With all this arose difficulties of individualization. It was impossible, without some further distinction, to maintain a current identity. Hence what had been but an occasional and irregular custom became a fixed and general practice—the distinguishing sobriquet, not, as I say, of premeditation, but by a silent compact, became part and parcel of a man’s property, and passed on with his other possessions to his direct descendants. This sobriquet had come to be of various kinds. It might be the designation of the property owned, as in the case of the Norman barons and their feudatory settlements, or it might be some local peculiarity that marked the abode. It might be the designation of the craft the owner followed. It might be the title of the rank or office he held. It might be a patronymic—a name acquired from the personal or Christian name of his father or mother. It might be some characteristic, mental or physical, complimentary or the reverse. Any of these it might be, it mattered not which; but when once it became attached to the possessor and gave him a fixed identity, it clung to him for his life, and eventually passed on to his offspring. Then it was that at length local and personal names came somewhat upon the same level; and as the former, some centuries before, had stereotyped the life of our various Celtic and Slavonic and Teutonic settlements, so now these latter fossilized the character of the era in which they arose; and here we have them, with all the antiquity of their birth upon them, breathing of times and customs and fashions and things that are now wholly passed from our eyes, or are so completely changed as to bear but the faintest resemblance to that which they have been. To analyse some of these names, for all were impossible, is the purpose of the following chapters. I trust that ere I have finished my task, I shall have been able to throw some little light, at least, on the life and habits of our early English forefathers.

The reader will have observed that I have just incidentally alluded to five different classes of names. For the sake of further distinction I will place them formally and under more concise headings:—

1. Baptismal or personal names.

2. Local surnames.

3. Official surnames.

4. Occupative surnames.

5. Sobriquet surnames, or Nicknames.

I need scarcely add that under one of these five divisions will every surname in all the countries of Europe be found.

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.[2] 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.[3] 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;’[4] or ‘Ap-Howell,’ ‘Powell.’[5] ‘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).[6]

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.’[7]

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.[8] 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.

I.—Names that preceded and survived the Conquest.

The peculiar feature of the great majority of such names as were in vogue previous to the Norman Conquest, and which to a certain extent maintained a hold, is that (saving in two or three instances) they did not attach to themselves either filial or pet desinences. If they have come down to us as surnames, they are found in their simple unaltered dress. Thus, taking Afred as an example, we see in our directories ‘Alfred’ or ‘Alured’ or ‘Allured’ to be the only patronymics that have been handed down to us. Latinized as Aluredus it figures in Domesday. The Hundred Rolls, later on, register an Alured Ape, and the surname appears in the Parliamentary Writs in the case of William Alured. It is hard to separate our ‘Aldreds’ from our ‘Allureds.’ The usually entered forms are ‘Richard Alred,’ ‘Hugh Aldred,’ or ‘Aldred fil. Roger.’ Besides ‘Aldred’ there is ‘Alderson,’ which may be but ‘Aldredson.’ Aylwin is met by such entries as Richard Alwine, or Thomas Ailwyne: ‘Adelard,’ as ‘Adlard’ or ‘Alard,’ and ‘Agilward’ as ‘Aylward,’ are of more frequent occurrence; while Aldrech, once merely a personal name, is now, like many of the above, found only surnominally.

The Teutonic mythology is closely interwoven in several of these names. The primary root ‘god’ or ‘good,’ which stood in all Teuton languages as the title of divinity, was familiarised as the chief component in not a few of our still existing surnames. ‘Godwin,’ the name which the stout old earl of Danish blood has given to our Goodwin Sands, seems to have been well established when the great Survey was made. The French ‘Godin’ seems scarcely to have crossed the Channel, but ‘Godwin’ and ‘Goodwin’ have well filled up the gap. ‘Hugh fil. Godewin,’ or ‘Godwin de Dovre,’ represent our registers. Our ‘Godbolds’ are found in the dress of ‘Godbolde,’ our ‘Goodiers’ and ‘Goodyears’ as ‘Goder’ or ‘Godyer,’ and our ‘Goddards’ as ‘Godard.’ The Hundred Rolls give us a ‘John fil. Godard.’ The Alpine mountain reminds us of its connection with ‘Gotthard,’ and Miss Yonge states that it is still in use as a Christian name in Germany. ‘Gottschalk,’ a common surname in the same country, was well known as a personal name in England in the forms of ‘Godescalde,’[9] ‘Godescall,’ or ‘Godeschalke,’ such entries as ‘Godefry fil. Godescallus,’ or ‘Godeskalcus Armorer,’ or ‘John Godescalde,’ being not unfrequent. The latter name suggests to us our ‘Godsalls’ and ‘Godshalls’ as the present English surnominal forms. ‘Gottschalk’ in our directories may always be looked upon as a more recent importation from Germany. Goderic was perhaps the commonest of this class—its usual dress in our registers being ‘Gooderick,’ ‘Goderiche,’ ‘Godrick,’ and ‘Godric.’ An early Saxon abbot was exalted into the ranks of the saints as ‘St. Goderic,’ and this would have its influence in the selection of baptismal names at that period. ‘Guthlac,’ not without descendants, too, though less easily recognisable in our ‘Goodlakes’ and ‘Goodlucks,’ and ‘Geoffrey,’ or ‘Godfrey,’ whom I shall have occasion to mention again, belong to the same category.[10] The last of this class I may mention is the old ‘Godeberd,’ or ‘Godbert.’ As simple ‘Godeberd’ it is found in such a name as ‘Roger Godeberd,’ met with in the London Tower records. Somewhat more corrupted we come across a ‘John Gotebedde’ in the Hundred Rolls of the thirteenth century; and much about the same time a ‘Robert Gotobedd’ lived in Winchelsea. In this latter form, I need scarcely say, it has now a somewhat flourishing existence in our midst. Some will be reminded of the lines:—

Mr. Barker’s as mute as a fish in the sea,
Mr. Miles never moves on a journey,
Mr. Gotobed sits up till half-after three,
Mr. Makepeace was bred an attorney.

Still, despite its long antiquity, when I recall the pretty Godbert from which it arose, I would, were I one of them, go to bed as such some night for the last time, nor get up again till I could dress, if not my person, at least my personality in its real and more antique habiliment.

‘Os,’ as a root-word implicative of deity, has made for itself a firm place in our ‘Osbalds,’ ‘Osberts,’ ‘Oswins,’ ‘Oswalds,’ ‘Osbornes,’ and ‘Osmunds’ or ‘Osmonds.’ Instances of all these may be seen in our older registries. We quickly light upon entries such as ‘Osbert le Ferrur,’ ‘Osborne le Hawkere,’ ‘Oswin Ogle,’ ‘Nicholas Osemund,’ or ‘John Oswald.’ Nor must ‘Thor,’ the ‘Jupiter tonans’ of the Norsemen, be left out, for putting aside local names, and the day of the week that still memorialises him, we have yet several surnames that speak of his influence. ‘Thurstan’ and ‘Thurlow’ seem both of kin. ‘Thorald,’ however, has made the greatest mark, and next ‘Thurkell.’ Thorald may be seen in ‘Torald Chamberlain’ (A), Ralph fil. Thorald (A), or Torald Benig (A); while Thurkell or Thurkill is found first in the fuller form in such entries as ‘Richard Thyrketyll,’ or ‘Robert Thirkettle,’ and then in the contracted in ‘Thurkeld le Seneschal,’ or ‘Robert Thurkel.’

We have just referred to Thurkettle. ‘Kettle’ was very closely connected with the mythology of Northern Europe, and is still a great name in Norway and in Iceland. The sacrificial cauldron of the gods must certainly have been vividly present to the imagination of our forefathers. The list of names compounded with ‘Kettle’ is large even in England. The simple ‘Kettle’ was very common. In Domesday it is ‘Chetill,’ in the Hundred Rolls ‘Ketel’ or ‘Cetyl’ or ‘Cattle.’ Such entries as ‘Ketel le Mercer,’ or ‘Chetel Frieday,’ or ‘Cattle Bagge,’ are met with up to the fifteenth century, and as surnames ‘Kettle,’ ‘Chettle’ and ‘Cattle’ or ‘Cattell’ have a well-established place in the nineteenth. Of the compound forms we have already noticed ‘Thurkettle’ or ‘Thurkell.’ ‘Anketil le Mercir’ (A), ‘Roger Arketel’ (A), ‘William Asketill’ (Q), and ‘Robert fil. Anskitiel’ (W. 12) are all but changes rung on Oskettle. The abbots of England, in 941, 992, and 1052, were ‘Turketyl,’ ‘Osketyl,’ and ‘Wulfketyl’ respectively. The last seems to be the same as ‘Ulchetel’ found in Domesday.[11] In the same Survey we light upon a ‘Steinchetel,’ and ‘Grinketel’ is also found in a Yorkshire record of the same period.[12] Orm, the representative of pagan worship in respect of the serpent, has left its memorial in such entries as ‘Alice fil. Orme,’ or ‘Ormus Archbragge.’ The descendants of these are our ‘Ormes’ and ‘Ormesons.’ More local names abide in ‘Ormsby,’ ‘Ormskirk,’ ‘Ormerod,’ and ‘Ormes Head.’

A series of names, some of them connected with the heroic and legendary lore of Northern Europe, were formed from the root ‘sig’—conquest. Many of these maintained a position as personal names long after the Norman invasion, and now exist in our directories as surnames. Nevertheless, as with the others hitherto mentioned, they are all but invariably found in their simple and uncompounded form. Our ‘Sewards,’ ‘Seawards,’ and ‘Sawards’ represent the chief of these. It is found in England in the seventh century, and was a great Danish name. Entries like ‘Syward Godwin’ or ‘Siward Oldcorn’ are found as late as the beginning of the fourteenth century. Next we may mention our ‘Segars,’ ‘Sagars,’ ‘Sahers,’ ‘Sayers,’ and ‘Saers,’ undoubted descendants of such men as ‘Saher de Quincy,’ the famous old Earl of Winchester. The registrations of this as a personal name are very frequent. Such entries as ‘John fil. Saer,’ ‘Saher Clerk,’ ‘Saher le King,’ or ‘Eudo fil. Sygar,’ are common. Nor has ‘Sigbiorn’ been allowed to become obsolete, as our ‘Sibornes’ and ‘Seabornes’ can testify. I cannot discover any instance of ‘Sibbald’ as a personal name after the Domesday Survey, but as a relic of ‘Sigbald’ it is still living in a surnominal form. Though apparently occupative, our registers clearly proclaim that ‘Seman’ or ‘Seaman’ must be set here. As a personal name it is found in such designations as ‘Seman de Champagne,’ or ‘Seaman de Baylif,’ or ‘Seaman Carpenter.’ With the mention of ‘Sebright’ as a corruption of ‘Sigbert’ or ‘Sebert,’ I pass on; but this is sufficient to show that a name whose root-meaning implied heroism was popular with our forefathers.

The popular notion that ‘Howard’ is nothing but ‘Hogward’ is not borne out by facts. We find no trace whatever of its gradual reduction into such a corrupt form. As we shall have occasion to show hereafter, it is our ‘Hoggarts’ who thus maintain the honours of our swine-tending ancestors. There can be little doubt, indeed, that ‘Howard’ is but another form of ‘Harvard’ or ‘Hereward.’ That it had early become so pronounced and spelt we can prove by an entry occurring in the Test. Ebor. (Surt. Soc.) where one ‘John Fitz-howard’ is registered. Our ‘Hermans’ and ‘Harmans’ represent ‘Herman,’ a name which, though in early use in England, we owe chiefly to immigration in later days. Such entries as ‘Herman de Francia’ or ‘Herman de Alemannia’ are occasionally met with. The fuller patronymic attached itself to this name; hence such entries as ‘Walter Hermanson,’ and ‘John Urmynson,’ ‘Harmer,’ and ‘Hermer,’ seem to be somewhat of kin to the last. The personal form is found in ‘Robert fil. Hermer,’ and the surname in ‘Hopkins Harmar.’ Besides ‘Hardwin,’ ‘Hadwin’ is also met with as a relic of the same, while ‘Harding’ has remained unaltered from the day when registrars entered such names as ‘Robert fil. Harding’ and ‘Maurice fil. Harding;’ but this, as ‘Fitz-harding’ reminds us, must be looked upon as of Norman introduction. Nor must ‘Swain’ be forgotten. We find in the Survey the wife of ‘Edward filius Suani,’ figuring among the tenants-in-chief of Essex. This is of course but our present ‘Swainson’ or ‘Swanson;’ and when we add all the ‘Swains,’ ‘Swayns,’ and ‘Swaynes’ of our directories we shall find that this name has a tolerably assured position in the nineteenth century. ‘Swain’ implied strength, specially the strength of youth; and as Samson’s strength became utter weakness through his affection, so I suppose it has fared with ‘Swain.’ The country shepherd piping to his mistress, the lovesick bachelor, has monopolised the title. As a personal name it occurs in such registrations as ‘Sweyn Colle,’ ‘Swanus le Riche,’ or ‘Adam fil. Swain.’

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).[13] ‘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’[14] 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.[15] ‘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,’[16] 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.[17] 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.[18] 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,’[19] 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.[20] 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.[21] ‘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.[22] ‘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’[23] 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.’[24] 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.’[25] From the curter ‘Dick’ or ‘Diccon,’[26] 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,’[27] 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.’[28] 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,’[29] 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,’[30] 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?[31] 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.[32]

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.[33] 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.[34] 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.’[35] (‘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,’[36] 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.

III.—Names from the Calendar of the Saints.

It is to Norman influence we owe the firm establishment of several names, which had already got securely settled on the Continent on account of the odour of sanctity that had gathered about them. The Reformation threw into the shade of oblivion the memories of many holy men and women who in their day and generation exercised a powerful influence on our general nomenclature. Many of my readers will be unaware that there were three St. Geralds and three St. Gerards held in high repute previous to the eleventh century. The higher Norman families seem to have been attached to both, though ‘Gerard’ has made the deepest impression. ‘Gerald’ and ‘Fitz-Gerald’ are the commonest descendants of the first. As respects ‘Gerard,’ such names as ‘Garret Widdrington,’ or ‘Jarrarde Hall,’ or ‘Jarat Nycholson,’ found among our Yorkshire entries, serve to show how far the spirit of verbal corruption can advance; and our many ‘Garrets,’ ‘Jarrets,’ ‘Jarratts,’ and ‘Jerards,’ as surnames, will probably testify the same to all ages.[37] As there were twenty-eight ‘Walters’ in Domesday Survey, we cannot attribute the popularity of that name to St. Walter, abbot of Fontenelle in the middle of the twelfth century. But, as Miss Yonge shows, it had been spread over Aquitaine in the earlier part of the tenth century, through the celebrity of a saintly Walter who resided in that dukedom about the year 990. Few sobriquets enjoyed such a share of attention as this. In one of its nicknames, that of ‘Water,’[38] we are reminded of Suffolk’s death in Shakespeare’s Henry VI., where the murderer says—

My name is Walter Whitmore.

How now! why start’st thou? What, doth death affright!

Suffolk. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death.

A cunning man did calculate my birth,

And told me that by water I should die.

University men will remember a play of another kind upon its other form of ‘Wat,’ in the poems of C. S. C., whose power of rhyming, at least, I have never seen surpassed, even by Ingoldsby himself. He thus begins one of his happiest efforts—

Ere the morn the east has crimsoned,
When the stars are twinkling there,
(As they did in Watts’s Hymns, and
Made him wonder what they were.)

This, too, it will be seen, as well as ‘Water,’ still abides with us in its own or an extended guise, for our ‘Watts’ and ‘Waters,’ ‘Watsons’ and ‘Watersons,’ ‘Watkins’ and ‘Watkinsons,’ would muster strongly if in conclave assembled. Our ‘Waltrots,’ though not so numerous, are but the ancient ‘Walterot.’ As a Christian name Walter stands low now-a-days. ‘Tonkin,’ ‘Tonson,’ and ‘Townson’ (found in such an entry as ‘Jane Tounson’) remind us of ‘Anthony,’[39] a name previous to the Reformation popular as that possessed by the great ascetic of the fourth century. A curious phrase got connected with St. Anthony, that of ‘tantony-pig.’ It is said that monks attached to monasteries dedicated to this saint had the privilege of allowing their swine to feed in the streets. These habitually following those who were wont to offer greens to them, gave rise to the expression, ‘To follow like a Tantony-pig.’ Thus, in ‘The good wyfe wold a pylgremage,’ it is said—

When I am out of the towne,
Look that thou be wyse,
And run thou not from hous to hous,
Like a nantyny grice.

The connection between St. Anthony and swine, which gave the good monks this benefit, seems, in spite of many wild guesses, to have arisen from the mere fact of his dwelling so long in the woodlands. As Barnabe Googe has it—

The bristled hogges doth Antonie
Preserve and cherish well,
Who in his lifetime always did
In woodes and forestes dwell.[40]

It must have been this connexion which made ‘Tony’ the common sobriquet for a simpleton or a country clown. It lived in this sense till Dryden’s day, and certainly had become such so early as the thirteenth century, if we may judge by the occurrence of such names as ‘Ida le Tony,’ or ‘Roger le Tony,’ found in the Rolls of that period.[41] If, however, St. Anthony was thus doomed to be an example, how great may be the drawbacks to saintly distinction: ‘St. Cuthbert,’ who, in the odour of sanctity, dwelt at Lindisfarne, may even be more pitied, for, owing to the familiarity of his name in every rustic household of Northumbria and Durham, he became as ‘Cuddie,’ a sobriquet for the donkey, and is thus known and associated to the present moment. Our ‘Cuthberts,’ ‘Cuthbertsons,’ and ‘Cutbeards,’ however, need trouble themselves little, I imagine, on the question of their connection with the animal to whom we usually ascribe the honours in regard to obstinacy and stubbornness. Our ‘Cuddies,’ perhaps, are not quite so free from suspicion. Our ‘Cobbets’ undoubtedly spring from ‘Cuthbert.’ A ‘Nicholas Cowbeytson’ occurs in a Yorkshire register of the fourteenth century (Fabric Rolls of York Minster: Sur. Soc.). From ‘Cowbeyt’ to ‘Cobbet’ is a natural—I might say an inevitable—change. This name, however, owes nothing to the Normans. Not so ‘Giles.’ Everyone knows the story of St. Giles, how he dwelt as an anchorite in the forest near Nismes, and was discovered by the King because the hind, which daily gave him milk, pushed in the chase, fled to his feet. The name is entered in our rolls alike as ‘Giles,’ ‘Gile,’ and ‘Egedius’ (Gile Deacon. A. Jordan fil. Egidius, A). St. Lawrence, put on a gridiron over a slow fire in the third century, made his name popular in Spain. An archbishop of Canterbury, raised to a saintship in the seventh century, made the same familiar in England. Besides ‘Lawson,’ we have ‘Larkins’ and ‘Larson.’ In the lines already quoted relative to Wat Tyler’s insurrection, it is said—

Larkin et in medio, non minor esse putat.

The French diminutive occurs also. An ‘Andrew Larrett’ is mentioned by Nicholls in his history of Leicestershire, and the surname may still be seen in our directories. ‘Lambert’ received a large accession in England through the Flemings, who thus preserved a memorial of the patron of Liege, St. Lambert, who was martyred early in the eighth century. Succumbing to the fashion so prevalent among the Flemings, it is generally found as ‘Lambkin,’ such entries as ‘Lambekyn fil. Eli’ or ‘Lambekin Taborer’ being common. The present surnominal forms are ‘Lambert,’ ‘Lampson,’[42] ‘Lambkin,’ and ‘Lampkin.’ Thus our ‘Lambkins’ cannot boast of the Moses-like disposition of their ancestor on philological grounds. With the mention of three other saints we conclude this list. The legend of St. Christopher had its due effect on the popular taste, and it is early found in the various guises of ‘Cristophre,’ ‘Cristofer,’ and ‘Christofer.’ ‘Christophers’ and ‘Christopherson’ represent the surnames of the fuller form. To the pet form we owe our ‘Kitts’ and ‘Kitsons.’ St. Christopher’s Isle in the West Indies is now familiarly St. Kitts. It was of the indignity offered to Christopher Marlowe’s genius in calling him so generally by this brief sobriquet that Heywood spoke when he said—

Marlowe, renowned for his rare art and wit,

Could ne’er attain beyond the name of Kit.[43]

The same writer has it also in one of his epigrams—

Nothing is lighter than a feather, Kytte,

Yes, Climme: what light thing is that? thy light wytte.

We have already mentioned one abbot of Fontenelle who influenced our nomenclature. Another who exerted a similar power was ‘St. Gilbert,’ a contemporary and friend of the Conqueror. A few generations afterwards brought the English St. Gilbert to the fore, and then the name began to grow common, so common that as ‘Gib’ it became the favourite sobriquet of the feline species.[44] In several of our earliest writers it is found in familiar use, and in the Bard of Avon’s day it was not forgotten. Falstaff complains of being as melancholy as a ‘gib-cat’—that is, an old worn-out cat. Hamlet also says—

For who that’s but a queen, fair, sober, wise,

Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,

Such dear concernings hide? (iii. 4.)

‘To play the gib’ was a proverbial phrase for light and wanton behaviour.[45] Thus ‘Gilbert’ has been forced into a somewhat unpleasant notoriety in feline nomenclature. But he was popular enough, too, among the human kind. In that part of the ‘Townley Mysteries’ which represents the Nativity, one of the shepherds is supposed to hail one of his friends, who is passing by. He addresses him thus:—

How, Gyb, good morne, wheder goys thou?

The surnames formed from Gilbert, too, prove his popularity. Beside ‘Gilbert’ himself, we have ‘Gibbs,’ ‘Gibbins,’ ‘Gibbons,’ ‘Gibson,’[46] ‘Gibbonson,’ and ‘Gipps,’ to say nothing of that famous citizen of credit and renown, ‘John Gilpin,’ who has immortalized at least his setting of this good old-fashioned name.

Having referred to Gilbert and Gib the cat, we must needs notice ‘Theobald’ and ‘Tib.’ ‘St. Theobald,’ if he has not himself given much prominence to the title, nevertheless represents a name whose susceptibility to change was something amazing. The common form with the French was ‘Thibault’ or ‘Thibaud,’ and this is represented in England in such entries as ‘Tebald de Engleschevile,’ ‘Richard Tebaud,’ or ‘Roger Tebbott.’ A still curter form was ‘Tibbe’ or ‘Tebbe;’ hence such registrations as ‘Tebbe Molendinarius’ or ‘Tebb fil. William.’ In this dress it is found in the Latin lines commemorative of Tyler’s insurrection:—

Hudde ferit, quem Judde terit, dum Tibbe juvatur,

Jacke domosque viros vellit, en ense necat.

Among other surnames that speak for its faded popularity are ‘Tibbes,’ ‘Tebbes,’ and ‘Tubbs,’ ‘Theobald’ and ‘Tibbald,’ ‘Tibble’ and ‘Tipple,’ ‘Tipkins’ and ‘Tippins,’ and ‘Tipson,’ and our endlessly varied ‘Tibbats,’ ‘Tibbets,’ ‘Tibbits,’ ‘Tebbatts,’ ‘Tebbotts,’ and ‘Tebbutts.’ Indeed, the name has simply run riot among the vowels. ‘Hugh’ I have kept till the last, because of its important position as an early name. It was crowded with holy associations. There was a ‘St. Hugh,’ Abbot of Cluny, in 1109. There was a ‘St. Hugh,’ Bishop of Grenoble, in 1132. There was ‘St. Hugh,’ Bishop of Lincoln, in 1200, and above all there was the celebrated infant martyr, ‘St. Hugh,’ of Lincoln, said to have been crucified by the Jews of that city in 1250. This event happened just at the best time for affecting our surnames. Their hereditary tendency was becoming marked. Thus it is that ‘Hugh,’ or ‘Hew,’[47] as it was generally spelt, has made such an indenture upon our nomenclature. The pet forms are all Norman-French, the most popular being ‘Huet,’ ‘Hugon,’ and ‘Huelot,’ the last formed like ‘Hamelot,’ and ‘Hobelot.’ The second of these was further corrupted by the English into ‘Hutchin’ and ‘Huggin.’[48] Hence our rolls teem with such registrations as ‘Hewe Hare,’ ‘Huet de Badone,’ ‘William fil. Hugonis,’ ‘Houlot de Manchester,’ ‘Walter Hughelot,’ ‘John Hewisson,’ ‘Simon Howissone,’ ‘Roger fil. Hulot,’ or ‘Alan Huchyns.’ Among the surnames still common in our directories may be numbered ‘Huggins,’ ‘Hutchins,’ ‘Hutchinson,’ ‘Hugginson,’ ‘Howlett,’ ‘Hullett,’ ‘Hewlett,’ ‘Huet,’ ‘Hewet,’ ‘Hewetson,’ ‘Howett,’ ‘Howson,’ ‘Hughes,’ and ‘Hewson.’ All these various forms bespeak a familiarity which is now of course utterly wanting, so far as our Christian nomenclature is concerned. Indeed, after all I have said, I still feel that it is impossible to give the reader an adequate conception of the popularity of this name four hundred years ago. It is one more conspicuous instance marking the change which the Reformation and an English Bible effected upon our nomenclature.

IV.—Names chosen from Festivals and Holydays.

We may here refer to a group of appellatives which are derived from the names of certain days and seasons. I dare not say that all I shall mention are absolutely sprung from one and the same custom. Some, I doubt not, were bestowed upon their owners from various accidental circumstances of homely and individual interest. Neighbours would readily affix a nickname of this class upon one who had by some creditable or mean action made a particular season remarkable in his personal history. But these, I presume, will be exceptional, for there is no manner of doubt that it was a practice, and by no means a rare one, to baptize a child by the name of the day on which it was born, especially if it were a holiday. We know now how often it happens that the Church Calendar furnishes names for those born upon the Saints’ days—how many ‘Johns’ and ‘Jameses’ and ‘Matthews’ owe their appellations to the fact that they came into the world upon the day marked, ecclesiastically, for the commemoration of those particular Apostles. This is still a custom among more rigid Churchmen. In early days, however, it was carried to an extreme extent. Days of a simply local interest—days for fairs and wakes—days that were celebrated in the civil calendar—days that were the boundaries of the different seasons—all were familiarly pressed into the service of name-giving. These, springing up in a day when they were no sooner made part of the personal than they became candidates for our hereditary nomenclature, have in many cases come down to us. Thus, the time when the yule log blazed and crackled on the hearth has given us ‘Christmas,’ or ‘Noel,’ or ‘Yule,’ or ‘Midwinter.’ This last seems to have been an ordinary term for the day, for we find it in colloquial use at this time. In Robert of Gloucester’s ‘Life of William the Conqueror,’ he speaks of it’s being his intention

to Midwinter at Gloucester,

To Witesontid at Westminster, to Ester at Wincester.

‘Pentecost’ was as familiar a term in the common mouth as ‘Whitsuntide,’ and thus we find both occurring in the manner mentioned. ‘Wytesunday’ is, however, now obsolete; ‘Pentecost’ still lives.[49] ‘Paske,’ for ‘Easter,’ was among the priesthood the word in general use; old writers always speak of ‘Paske’ for that solemn season. Thus, ‘Pask,’ ‘Pash,’ ‘Paschal,’ and ‘Pascal’[50] are firmly set in our directories; as, indeed, they are on the Continent also. It is the same with ‘Lammas,’ ‘Sumption,’ and ‘Middlemas;’ that is, ‘Assumption’ and ‘Michaelmas.’ Each as it came round imprinted its name at the baptismal font upon the ancestors of all those who still bear these several titles in our midst. It would be an anachronism, therefore, to suppose Mr. Robinson Crusoe to have been the first who introduced this system, as even ‘Friday’ itself, to say nothing of ‘Munday,’ or ‘Monday,’ and ‘Saturday,’ and ‘Tuesday,’ were all surnames long anterior to that notable personage’s existence. Nor, as I have said, are the less solemn feast days disregarded. ‘Loveday’ is one such proof. In olden times there was often a day fixed for the arrangement of differences, in which, if possible, old sores were to be healed up and old-standing accounts settled. This day, called a ‘Loveday,’ is frequently alluded to. That very inconsistent friar in Piers Plowman’s Vision could, it is said—

hold lovedays,

And hear a reves rekenyng.

The latter part of the quotation suggests to us the origin of ‘Termday,’ which I find as existing in the twelfth century, and probably given in the humorous spirit of that day.[51] Nor are these all. ‘Plouday’ was the first Monday after Twelfth Night, and the day on which the farmer began his ploughing. It was a great rural holiday at one time, and the ploughmen as a rule got gloriously drunk. Similarly, we have ‘Hockerday,’ ‘Hockday,’ and perhaps the still more corrupted ‘Hobday,’ the old English expression for a ‘high-day.’ The second Tuesday after Easter was especially so termed, and kept in early times as such, as commemorative of the driving out of the Danes in the days of Ethelred. This was a likely name to be given on such a high day in the domestic annals as that on which the first-born came into the world. Happy parents would readily seize upon this at a time when the word and its meaning were alike familiar. Our ‘Hallidays’ or ‘Hollidays’ throw us back to the Church festivals, those times of merriment and jollity which have helped to such a degree to dissociate from our minds the real meaning of the word (that is, a day set apart for holy service in commemoration of some religious event), that we have now been compelled by a varied spelling to make the distinction between a ‘holyday’ and a ‘holiday.’ Thus strongly marked upon our nomenclature is this once favourite but now well-nigh obsolete custom.

V.—Patronymics formed from Occupations.

We may here briefly refer to a class of patronymics which, although small from the first, took its place, as if insensibly, among our hereditary surnames. It is a class of occupative or professional names, with the filial desinence attached. There is nothing wonderful in the fact of the existence of such. The wonder is that there are not more of them. It must have been all but as natural to style a man as the son of ‘the Clerk’ as the son of ‘Harry’ in a small community, where the father had, in his professional capacity, established himself as of some local importance. Hence we cannot be surprised to find ‘Clerkson’ in our registers. It is thus the ‘sergeant’ has bequeathed us our ‘Sergeantsons;’ the ‘kemp,’ or soldier, our ‘Kempsons;’ the ‘cook,’ our ‘Cooksons,’ or ‘Filius Coci,’ as the Hundred Rolls have it; the ‘smith,’ our ‘Smithsons;’ the ‘steward,’ our ‘Stewardsons;’ the ‘grieve,’ i.e. ‘reeve,’ our ‘Grievesons;’ the ‘miller,’ our ‘Millersons;’ and the ‘shepherd,’ our ‘Shepherdsons.’ Of other instances, now obsolete, we had ‘Masterson,’ ‘Hyneson,’[52] ‘Hopperson,’ ‘Scolardson,’ and ‘Priestson.’ Nor were the Normans without traces of this practice, although in their case all the examples I have met with have ceased to exist amongst us. ‘Fitz-Clerk’ but corresponds with one of the above; while the warden of the woods gave us ‘Fitz-Parker,’ and that of the college, ‘Fitz-Provost.’ Thus, those who yet possess names of this class may congratulate themselves upon belonging to a small but compact body which has ever existed amid our more general nomenclature.

VI.—Metronymics.

We have already mentioned Joan as having bequeathed several surnames. We did not then allude to the somewhat difficult subject of metronymics; we shall first prove by examples that there are a large number of such. We shall then briefly unfold their origin from our point of view. The feminine of Peter, ‘Petronilla,’ was a name in familiar use at this time. St. Petronilla, once much besought as a help against fevers, would no doubt add to its popularity. Barnyby Googe says:—

The quartane ague and the rest
Doth Pernel take away,
And John preserves his worshippers
From prison every day.

In the above stanza we are supplied with the common sobriquet taken from his name. As ‘Pernel’ or ‘Parnel’ it held a high place among the poorer classes. From an ill-repute, however, that attached to it in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, it is now all but extinct as a Christian name, and it is only among our surnames that it is to be met with. It is curious how associations of this kind destroy the chances of popularity among names. ‘Peter’ was forced into familiarity. ‘Pernel’ lost caste through its becoming a cant term for women of a certain character. ‘Magdalen’ is another case in point. The Bible narrative describes her briefly as a penitent sinner. Legend, adding to this, portrayed her beauty, her golden tresses, her rich drapery. Art added touches of its own in the shape of dishevelled hair and swelled eyes, but all to make this centre scene of penitence the more marked. This, and the early asylums for penitents, of which she became the forced patroness, prevented her name being used as a Christian name at this time—I have never, at least, found an instance. But as a proof how early it had become a term for what I may call mental inebriety, a connection which of course it owes to the portrayals alluded to above, I may instance the name of Thomas le Maddelyn, found in the twelfth century (H.R.), and an evident nickname given to one of a sickly sentimental character. Our present ‘Maudlins’ and ‘Maudlings’ may be descended from one so entitled, or locally from some place dedicated to the saint.

Among other female names, ‘Constance’ bid fair to become very popular. A daughter of William the Conqueror, a daughter of Stephen, and a daughter-in-law of Henry II. were all so called. Chaucer in his ‘Man of Lawes Tale’ calls his heroine by this title—

But Hermegild loved Custance as her life,
And Custance hath so long sojourned there
In orisons, with many a bitter tear,
Til Jesu hath converted, through his grace,
Dame Hermegild.

This must have been its favourite form in the common mouth, for we find it recorded in such names as ‘Custance Muscel,’ ‘Custance Clerk,’ ‘Robert fil. Custe,’ or ‘Cus nepta Johannis,’ with tolerable frequency. The diminutive ‘Cussot’ is also to be met with. I need hardly say that in our ‘Custances,’ ‘Custersons,’ ‘Cuss’s,’ and ‘Custs,’ not to say some of our ‘Cousens,’ as corruptions of ‘Custson,’ the remembrance of this once familiar name still survives. Of late years the name proper has again become popular. ‘Beatrice’ is another instance of a name once common sunk into comparative desuetude. The Norman ‘Beton’ was the most favoured pet form. Piers Plowman says (Passus V.):—

Beton the Brewestere bade him good-morrow,

and a little further on,

And bade Bette cut a bough, and beat Betoun therewith.

Thus it is we frequently light upon such entries as ‘John Betyn,’ ‘Betin de Friscobald,’ ‘Robert Betonson,’ ‘John Bettenson,’ or ‘Thomas Betanson.’ These latter of course soon dropped into ‘Beatson’ and ‘Betson,’ which, with ‘Beton’ and ‘Beaton,’ are still common to our directories. ‘Emma,’ too, as a Norman name has left its mark. By a pure accident, however, as Miss Yonge points out, it had got a place previous to the Conquest among the Saxons, through the fact of the daughter of Richard I. of Normandy marrying first Ethelred, surnamed the Unready, and then Canute the Great. Thus, though it has not unfrequently been claimed as of Saxon origin, it is not so in reality. The general spelling is ‘Emme,’ and the pet ‘Emmot’ or ‘Emmet’ is found in such names as ‘Emmota Plummer’ or ‘Emmetta Catton.’ This at once guides us into the source of our ‘Emmots,’ ‘Emmetts,’[53] ‘Emmes,’ ‘Emsons,’ ‘Empsons,’ and ‘Emmotsons.’[54]

Almost as equal a favourite as ‘Emma’ was ‘Cecilia.’ This was a name introduced at the Conquest in the person of Cecile, a daughter of William I., and it soon found itself a favourite among high and low as ‘Cicely,’ or still shorter as ‘Cis’ or ‘Sis,’ although the latter seems to have been the more general form. In Piers Plowman, however, is preserved the more correct initial. I have already quoted him when he speaks so familiarly of

Cesse the souteresse.

In all the ballads of the seventeenth century, on the other hand, it is always ‘Sis,’ ‘Siss’ or ‘Sys.’

Long have I lived a bachelor’s life,
And had no mind to marry;
But now I would fain have a wife,
Either Doll, Kate, Sis, or Mary.

Our ‘Sissons,’ ‘Sysons,’ and ‘Sisselsons’[55] are of course but the offspring of this pretty appellative, while one more instance of the popular diminutive may be met with in such a name as ‘John Sissotson’ or ‘Cissota West’ found in the ‘Testamenta Eboracensia,’ or ‘Bella Cesselot’ in the Hundred Rolls.[56] Our ‘Dowses,’ ‘Dossons,’ and ‘Dowsons’ represent the once popular ‘Douce,’ ‘Duce,’ or ‘Dulce,’ more correctly ‘Dulcia.’ Hence we find such entries as ‘John filius Dousæ,’ ‘Douce de Moster,’ and ‘John Dowsson.’ Diminutives are found in ‘Richard Dowkin’ (F), and in ‘Dowsett,’ ‘Doucett,’ and ‘Duckett.’ The Norman was the more familiar form, all the more so perhaps because in the baronial kitchen a course of sweets was called dowcetts. An instance will be found in the Rutland papers, p. 97 (Cam. Soc.). This is but another form of our ‘dulcet.’ That the more literal form was not lost, such names as ‘Dulcia le Draper’ or ‘Dulcia fil. William’ will show, not to mention our still existing patronymic ‘Dulson.’ The later ‘Dulcibella’ underwent the same change and became ‘Dowsabell.’ This also attained the rank of a surname, for beside such entries as ‘Dowzable Mill’ (Z) and ‘Dussabel Caplyn’ (Z) we light upon a ‘Thomas Duszabell’ (M). Thus familiar was ‘Dulcia’ in former days. ‘Dionisia del Lee’ or ‘Dionisius Garston’ are common entries, both masculine and feminine forms being popular. ‘Dennis,’ ‘Denot,’ and ‘Dyot’ were the pet forms. Piers Plowman styles one of his characters ‘Denot.’ Hereditary forms are found in ‘Dennis,’ ‘Dennison,’ ‘Dyott,’ ‘Diotson,’[57] and ‘Dyson.’ I cannot but think that ‘Tenison’ or ‘Tennyson’ is but a corruption of ‘Dennison,’ as also ‘Tyson’ of ‘Dyson.’ That they are patronymics of Antony (Tony) is the only alternative, and this I fear is unsatisfactory. Mabel, although now somewhat out of fashion, was very popular four hundred years ago as ‘Amabilla,’ hence such entries as ‘Amabella la Blund,’ or ‘Amabil fil. Emme.’ The surnames descended from it are sufficiently numerous to testify to this. Besides ‘Mabell’ simple, we have ‘Mabson,’ ‘Mabbs,’ ‘Mabbes,’ ‘Mabbott,’ and perhaps ‘Mapleson.’[58] Catharine, always called ‘Catlin’ in the North, reminding us of the Irish ‘Kathleen,’ is the source of several surnames. Entries like ‘Eleonore Catlynson’ (W. 12) or ‘Thomas Katlynson’ (W. 11) are common, and the shorter ‘Cattlin’ is found in every Yorkshire roll.

There is a certain quaint prettiness about ‘Hilary,’ ‘Lettice,’ and ‘Joyce,’ three acceptable cognomens in mediæval times. The Normans liked their women to be, however modest, none the less lighthearted, gay, and spirited, and in the synonyms of ‘mirth,’ ‘gladness,’ and ‘sportiveness,’ they would delight in affixing on their newly-born children that which they hoped would be in the future but the index of the real character. ‘Hillary’ when not local is therefore but the fuller ‘Hilaria.’ ‘Joyce,’ sometimes the result of the mere nickname, is nothing more than ‘Jocosa,’ and ‘Lettice,’ ‘Letts,’ and ‘Letson’ are sufficiently numerous to preserve the memory of ‘Lætitia.’ Thus, in one of the Coventry Mysteries already alluded to, mention is made of

Col Crane and Davy Dry-dust,
Lucy Lyer and Letyce Lytyl-trust,
Miles the Miller and Colle Crake-crust.

‘Letson’ is met in the fourteenth century as ‘Fitz-Lettice.’ ‘Theophania’ was anything but unpopular, but its length made it unavoidable but that it should be mutilated, or at least put in an abbreviated or nickname form, and thus it is has arisen our ‘Tiffany,’ whence of course the surname of to-day. Thus, in the Coventry Mysteries, it is demanded that

Both Bonting the Brewster and Sybyl Slynge,
Megge Mery-wedyr, and Sabyn[59] Sprynge,
Tiffany Twynkeler fayle for no thynge.

Thierry in his history of the ‘Conquest of England’ quotes an old writer, who has preserved the following lines of a decidedly doggrel character:—

William de Cognisby
Came out of Brittany
With his wife Tiffany,
And his maid Manfras,
And his dogge Hardigras.

We must not forget to mention ‘Eleanor,’ or ‘Alianora,’ as it is more frequently registered, a name of suffering royalty, and therefore to a portion of the English people, at least, a popular name. Its forms are too many for enumeration, but ‘Alianor,’ ‘Annora,’ ‘Annot,’ ‘Alinot,’ ‘Leonora,’ ‘Eleanor,’ ‘Elinor,’ ‘Ellen,’ ‘Lina,’ ‘Linot,’ and ‘Nel’ were the most common. All of these were either surnames themselves, or became the roots of surnames. Thus we find among other entries such registrations as ‘Alicia Alianor,’ ‘Alianor Busche,’ ‘Annora Widow,’ ‘Annora de Aencurt,’ ‘Anota Canun,’ ‘John Annotson,’ ‘William Annotyson,’ ‘Hugh fil. Elyenore,’ ‘William Alinot,’ ‘Alnot Red,’ ‘Lyna le Archer,’ ‘Linota ate Field,’ or ‘Linota Vidua.’ This list will suffice to prove the place occupied by ‘Eleanor.’ I have not mentioned such entries as ‘John fil. Nel’ or ‘Elisha Annyson,’ or ‘Richard Anyson,’ for though in these particular instances we see the origin of some of our ‘Ansons’ and ‘Nelsons,’ both are more generally referable to a different source. ‘Neal’ or ‘Neile’ was very common in this day, and ‘Neilson’ would easily be corrupted into ‘Nelson.’

‘Julian,’ the abbreviated form of ‘Juliana,’ as a Norman-introduced name became very popular, and its after history was a very curious one. Such appellations as ‘Gillian Cook,’ or ‘Gilian of the Mill,’ found in the Hundred Rolls, or that of the well-known ‘Dame Julyan Berners,’ whose work on household management I shall have occasion to quote by-and-by, only represent in fuller forms the ‘Gill’ or ‘Jill’ who is so renowned in our nursery literature as having met with such a dire disaster in the dutiful endeavour ‘to fetch a pail of water’ from the hill-side. I have already mentioned ‘Cocke Lorell’s Bote,’ where allusion is made to

Jelyan Joly at signe of the Bokeler.

The shorter and curter form is given us in Heywood’s Epigrams, where the following marital dialogue occurs:—

I am care-full to see thee carelesse, Jylle:

I am wofull to see thee wytlesse, Wyll:

I am anguisht to see thee an ape, Jyll:

I am angry to see thee an asse, Wyll:

I am dumpyshe to see thee play the drabbe, Jyll:

I am knappyshe to see thee plaie the knave, Wyll.

But ‘Gill’ at some time or other got into evil odour, and this brought the name into all but absolute disuse. As a term for a wanton flirt or inconstant girl, it was familiarly used till the eighteenth century. It would seem as if the poet I have just quoted were referring to this characteristic when he writes:—

All shall be well, Jacke shall have Gill;

Nay, nay, Gill is wedded to Wyll;[60]

or where in another place he says:—

How may I have thee, Gill, when I wish for thee?

Wish not for me Jack, but when thou mayest have me.[61]

The diminutive ‘Gilot’ or ‘Juliet’ is used in the same way. In an old metrical sermon it is said—

Robin will Gilot
Leden to the nale,
And sitten there togedres,
And tellen their tale.

This at once reminds us of the origin of our ‘jilt,’ which is nothing more than a relic of the name for inconstancy the sobriquet had obtained. In our ‘Gills,’ ‘Gilsons,’ and many of our ‘Gillots,’ a further remembrance is likely to remain for all time.[62] Such names as these, however, offer no kind of comparison with that of ‘Margaret.’ This is the only rival that ‘Gillian’ had to fear, and had the misfortunes of Margaret of Anjou occurred two, or even one century earlier, it would easily have taken precedence, so far as our surnames are concerned. Apart from its being found in several royal lines, it had the advantage of undoubted prettiness both in sound and sense. Every one, too, knew its meaning, for ‘margarite’ and ‘pearl’ then, and until the seventeenth century even, were interchangeable terms. Every early writer so uses it. ‘Casting pearls before swine’ is with Wickliffe ‘margaritis.’[63] The pet names too were pretty, important in a day when the full name was rarely if ever used.[64] The Norman-French ‘Margot’ seems to have been quite as familiar as ‘Marjorie.’ Thus the homely ‘magpie’ was at first styled the ‘maggoty’ or ‘magot-pie.’ Many will remember that Macbeth so uses it—

Blood will have blood:

Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak,

Augurs and understood relations have

By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth

The secretest man of blood.—ii. 7.

‘Madge-owlet,’ too, from its occasional use by writers of this later period, seems to prove that the still more homely owl of the barn owed an appellation to Dame Marjorie. Her issue, as we should expect, is large. We have ‘Maggs,’ ‘Maggots,’ and ‘Magotson;’ ‘Margots,’ ‘Margetts,’ and ‘Margetson;’ ‘Margison,’ ‘Margerison,’ ‘Meggs,’ and ‘Megson.’[65] It will be surprising to many that we cannot place ‘Mary’ in the first place among female names, as it is now among those of either sex, but such was far from the case. Edward I.’s daughter ‘Marie’ seems to have been the first instance we possess of its use among the higher families of the realm; and doubtless its presence at this time must be referred, as in so many other cases we have mentioned, to the Crusades. Mariolatry, we must remember, was not yet an article of Romish belief. Indeed, the name is still of the rarest for generations after this. Maid Marion, the mistress of Robin Hood, seems to have made that diminutive popular, and either from the acted plays in which she frequently afterwards figured, or the little ornamental image of the Virgin worn by women, is come our marionette. The one only form in which it can be said to occur in our English records is that of ‘Mariot,’ such names as ‘Mariot Goscelyn,’ or ‘Mariota Giffard,’ or ‘Mariota Gosebeck,’ being found as a very occasional registry. Thus our ‘Mariotts’ and ‘Maryatts’ are explained. With regard to another batch of names said to have sprung from this, I find a difficulty sets in. We have the clear statement of the author of the ‘Promptorium Parvulorum’ that ‘Malkyne’ in his day was the sobriquet of Matilda, that is, ‘Mawdkin.’ On the other hand, I find Halliwell has a single quotation from a manuscript in which Maid Marion is styled Malkyn also.[66] All modern writers, saving Mr. Lower, who has come to no decision at all, have comfortably put it down to this latter. I have no hesitation whatever myself in deciding differently, or at least in qualifying their conclusion. There can be scarcely any doubt, I think, that Malkin was originally the pet name of Matilda; then, as that favourite name gradually sunk in estimation, and Mary proportionately advanced, but this much later on, it was transferred. Thus, if I am correct, our ‘Makinsons’ and ‘Makins,’[67] our ‘Meakins’ and ‘Meekins,’ and our ‘Mawsons’[68] will be sprung from Maud, rather than Mary. In confirmation of this, I may quote ‘Malkin,’ the early cant term for a ‘slut,’ a word as old as Chaucer himself, and one that Mary could not have possibly acquired in his day, as barely familiar. ‘Mawdkin’ or ‘Malkin,’ on the other hand, would be the ordinary term for every household drudge. It is only those who have carefully studied early registers who can realize the difference of position ‘Matilda’ and ‘Mary’ relatively occupy at such a period as this. There were six ‘Matildas’ of royal lineage between William I. and Henry II. alone. It greets one at every turn; the present popularity of the latter is entirely the growth of a later and more superstitious age.[69]

Speaking of Mary, we must not forget Elizabeth, known, generations ere Queen Bess made it so popular, as Isabella. It was in this form it came into England with that princess of Angoulême who married John Lackland. But it was not a favourite; pretty as it was, its connexion with our most despicable monarch spoiled all chance of popularity, and while on the Continent it gained friends on every hand, it was only with the higher nobility of our own land it got any place worth speaking of. Still it has left its mark. As Elizabeth[70] at a later stage became ‘Lib’ and ‘Libby,’ so Isabel was fondled into ‘Ib’ and ‘Ibby.’ Thus we come across such entries as ‘Henry Ebison,’ ‘Thomas Ibson,’ or ‘John Ibson.’ But a foreign name without the foreign desinence would be impossible. With the introduction of Isabel came in the diminutive ‘Ibbot’ or ‘Ibbet.’ Registrations like ‘Ibbota fil. Adam,’ ‘Ibote Babyngton,’ or ‘Ebote Gylle,’ and as surnames ‘Walter Ibbot,’ ‘Robert fil. Ibote,’ ‘Francis Ibbitson,’ or ‘Alice Ebotson’ are of common occurrence.[71] Another form of the same diminutive was ‘Isot,’ hence ‘Isotte Symes,’ ‘Izott Barn,’ or ‘Ezota Hall.’[72] But even with this we have not completed our list. One more pet form, and one still common amongst us, that of ‘Bell,’ left its mark in ‘Bellot,’ ‘Bellet,’ and ‘Bellson,’ all of which are still to be found in our directories.

The preceding pages will be sufficient proof that our metronymics are a considerable class. Many have not hesitated to affirm them to be wholly of illegitimate descent. We cannot doubt that in some instances this is the case. Nevertheless, we must not be led astray. ‘Polson’ is Paul’s son, ‘Nelson’ is Neil’s son, Neil or Nigel being at one time a familiar name with us. And even when the name is unquestionably feminine, as in Mollison, Margerison, Marriot, Emmett, or Annotson, illegitimacy is anything but established as a matter of fact. Adoption of children by women, posthumous birth, and other peculiar circumstances would often cause a boy or girl to be known in the community by a metronymic. Especially, too, would a child be thus styled in a family where the mother was notoriously, and in an emphatic sense, the better half, in a family where the husband was content to sit in the chimney nook, and let the bustling Margery, or Siss, or Emmot take, whether in or out of doors, the lead in all that concerned the domestic relationship. Thus, I doubt not, a large mass of them have arisen.

VII.—Names Derived from Holy Scripture.

We have incidentally referred to several Bible names, such as John, Mary, or Elizabeth. We shall find a certain characteristic appertaining to these. It is only those personages who prominently figured in the Scripture narrative who made any mark upon our nomenclature. The others, I doubt not, were unknown. It is even uncertain whether the clergy themselves had any but the faintest knowledge of the Bible. Indeed, such names even as were in use bear no testimony to the fact that they were given as the direct result of familiarity with the sacred pages. If from the New Testament, they were names that figured in the calendar as saints and martyrs, names to whom shrines and chapels had been dedicated. If from the Old, they were just those like ‘Adam,’ or ‘Isaac,’ or ‘Joseph,’ or ‘Samson,’ or ‘Daniel,’ or ‘Absolom,’ whose stories, told in the monkish performances or miracle-plays, were thus forced into the acquaintance of the popular mind. In a word, there is not a trace of anything beyond a mere superficial knowledge of the very outlines of the sacred narrative. Thus was it with ‘Adam,’ already mentioned. That he and Eve should be remembered at the font was inevitable. The Hundred Rolls give us an ‘Adam fil. Eve.’ Mr. Lower has been tempted to refer our ‘Atkins’ and ‘Atkinsons’ to Arthur, but there can be little doubt, I imagine, that these are but sharper forms of ‘Adkins’ and ‘Adkinson.’ The record alluded to above registers the same person twice as ‘Adam le Fullere’ and ‘Adekin le Fuller.’ With them therefore we must ally our ‘Addisons,’ ‘Adcocks,’[73] and ‘Adamsons.’ Eve left us ‘Eveson’ as a metronymic, and ‘Evetts’ and ‘Evitts,’ as the diminutives, are firmly set amongst us.[74] ‘Abel’ was equally popular. The Norman desinence is found in such entries as ‘Abalotta de la Forde,’ or Richard Abelot, whose descendants now figure as ‘Ablett’ and ‘Ablott.’ As will be seen, these may be feminine in origin. The reverence of the despised Jew for Abraham prevented this from becoming acceptable to Christians, but Isaac’s sacrifice was too popular a story not to leave an impression. It would be frequently represented by the monks. I have already quoted Langland where he speaks of

Hikke the hackney-man

And Hugh the nedlere—

an abbreviation now more generally known and spelt as ‘Ike.’ Gower also has it—

Watte vocat, cui Thoma venit, neque Symme retardat,

Bat-que Gibbe simul, Hykke venire jubent.

From him then have arisen our ‘Isaacs’ and ‘Isaacsons,’ our ‘Hicks’ and ‘Hicksons,’ our ‘Higgs’ and ‘Higsons,’ and with the Norman-French diminutives appended, our ‘Higgins,’ ‘Higginsons,’ ‘Higgotts,’[75] and ‘Higgetts.’ ‘Sarah,’ in the dress of ‘Sarra,’ had a fair number of admirers. ‘Sarra le Commongere,’ ‘William fil. Sarra,’ ‘Nicholas fil. Sarre,’ is the usual entry. The origin of our ‘Sarsons’ would thus be certain, were it not that this name, as will be shown elsewhere, has got confused with ‘Saracen.’ Moses also failed to be accepted among Christians, nor was Aaron much more fortunate, such registration as ‘Aaron le Blund’ or ‘Aron Judde’ being rare. ‘Samson’ or ‘Sampson,’ as it is more generally recorded, was of course popular enough, and many of our ‘Sampsons’ are rather the simple ‘Samson’ than the patronymic of ‘Samuel.’ ‘Samms,’ ‘Samuels’ and ‘Samuelson’ are generally of Jewish descent. ‘David,’ with its ‘Davies,’ its ‘Davidsons,’ its ‘Dawes’ and ‘Dawsons,’ its ‘Dawkes’ and ‘Dawkins,’ or ‘Dawkinsons,’ its ‘Dayes,’ ‘Daysons,’ and ‘Dakins’ (when not ‘Deakin’), would be equally sure of remembrance; though doubtless, as the patron saint of the Principality, and as a favourite among Scottish kings, it owes much to these outer chances. Here, too, we are reminded of Piers Plowman, with his—

Dawe the dykere

And a dozen othere.

This nickname seems to have had a long reign in the popular mouth, for we find, towards the close of the sixteenth century, Haywood writing the following epigram:—

To a justice a juggler did complaine,

Of one that dispraised his legerdemain.

What’s thy name? sayd the Justice: Dawson, sayd hee:

Is thy father alive? Nay, dead, sir, pardee:

Then thou shalt no more be Dau’s son, a clere case,

Thou art Daw thyself now in thy father’s place.[76]

Passing by ‘Absolom,’ ‘Solomon,’ or ‘Salamon,’ ‘Job’ and ‘Jobson,’ the story of Daniel would of course be common. This has bequeathed us itself in propria persona, and ‘Dancock,’ ‘Dankin,’ ‘Danett,’ and ‘Dannett.’ With regard to ‘Dans,’ ‘Dance,’ ‘Danse,’ and ‘Danson,’ there is a little difficulty. We have to remember that ‘Dan,’ like ‘Dame,’[77] figured prominently in early days as a simple title of respect. They were but the ‘Don’ and ‘Donna’ which, in one form or another, still exist in Italy, France, and Spain. ‘Dame,’ from domina, meant ‘mistress.’ ‘Don,’ from dominus, meant ‘master.’ To rank and age the two terms were equally applied. A ‘dame’s school’ still preserves this connexion of ideas. ‘As with the mistress so with the maid,’ is in early Bibles ‘As with the dame so with the maid.’ Thus there seems to be little doubt that our ‘Dames’ and ‘Damsons’ are so sprung. Why then should not ‘Dans’ and ‘Danse’ and ‘Danson’ be the masculine form? Chaucer, in his Canterbury Tales, represents the host as asking the Monk—

But, by my trothe, I cannot tell your name:

Whether shall I call you my lord Dan John,

Or Dan Thomas, or elles Dan Albon?

Thus he speaks also of ‘Dan Constantine,’ and jestingly of the ass as ‘Dan Burnell.’ Thus, Lord Surrey in one of his poems speaks of ‘Dan Homer;’ Spenser of ‘Dan Geoffrey;’ Thomson of ‘Dan Abraham.’ The best way will be, as in many another case, to divide the honours between the two; and leaving it thus undecided, I pass on.

Nor is the New Testament without its instances. Let us look at the Apostles first. We have already spoken at some length about ‘John,’ but we purposely kept for the present opportunity the explanation of its popularity in England. There can be little doubt that it owes much to its religious aspect. It was the name not merely of the beloved disciple, but of the Baptist. New and close associations with the latter were just coming into being. We must remember this was the time of the Crusades. It was the custom of all pilgrims who visited the Holy Land to bring back a bottle of water from the Jordan for baptismal purposes. A leathern bottle was an inseparable adjunct to the palmer’s dress. We all remember Walter Scott’s description—

His sandals were with travel tore,

Staff, budget, bottle, scrip he wore:

The faded palm-branch in his hand

Showed pilgrim from the Holy Land.

Early scenes with regard to the river in which the Baptist specially figured would thus be vividly brought to their notice, and in the ceremony of baptism at home nothing could be more natural than to give to the infant the name of the baptizer of the Holy Child Jesus. This is strongly confirmed by the fact of the name taking precedence at this very period. It was thus ‘Jordan’ itself as a surname has arisen. I need not remind students of early records how common is ‘Jordan’ as a Christian name, such cognomens as ‘Jordan de Abingdon’ or ‘Jordan le Clerc’ being of the most familiar occurrence. The baptismal soon became surnominal, and now ‘Jordan,’[78] ‘Jordanson,’ ‘Jordson,’ ‘Jurdan,’ ‘Judd,’ and ‘Judson’[79] are with us to remind us of this peculiar and interesting epoch.[80] We have a remarkable confirmation of what I am asserting in the fact of the Baptist’s other name of ‘Elias’ springing into a sudden notoriety at this time. If ‘John’ became thus so popular, it was inevitable ‘Elias’ should be the same; and so it was. Indeed, there was a time when it bid fair to be one of the most familiar sobriquets in England. For it was not merely the second Elias and the Jordan that had this effect. As the armies lay before Acre, remembrance of Elijah and the prophet of Carmel must have oft recurred to their minds. Out of many forms to be found in every early roll, those of ‘Ellis,’ ‘Elys,’ ‘Elice,’ ‘Ellice,’ ‘Elyas,’ ‘Helyas,’ and the diminutive ‘Eliot’ or ‘Elliot,’ seem to have been the most familiar. Numberless are the surnames sprung from it. It is thus we get our ‘Ellises’ and ‘Ellices,’ our ‘Ellsons’ and ‘Ellisons,’ our ‘Elkins’ and ‘Elkinsons,’ our ‘Elcocks’ and ‘Ellcocks,’ and our ‘Ellicots,’[81] ‘Elliots,’ and ‘Elliotsons.’ In the north ‘Alis’ seems to have gained the supremacy. Thus it is we have our many ‘Allisons’ or ‘Alisons,’[82] ‘Allkins’ or ‘Alkins,’ ‘Allcocks’ or ‘Alcocks,’ and ‘Allots.’ ‘Alecot,’ as a synonym with ‘Elicot,’ I do not find to be at present existing, but as a Christian name it occurs at the same period with the above.[83] ‘Fitzellis,’ as the more aristocratic Norman form, is not yet, I believe, extinct. Thus the prophet at Carmel and the forerunner at the Jordan have made their mark upon our English nomenclature.

Peter claims our attention next. When we consider how important has been the position claimed for him it is remarkable that in an age when, so far as England was concerned, this respect was more fully exacted than any other, his name should be so rarely found, rarely when we reflect what an influence the ecclesiastics of the day themselves must have had in the choice of the baptismal name, and what an interest they had in making it popular. It is to them, doubtless, we must refer the fact of its having made any mark at all, for ‘Peter’ was odious to English ears. It reminded them of a tax which was the one of all least liked, as they saw none of its fruits. It is to country records we must look for the ‘Peters’ of the time. The freer towns would none of it. Among the rude peasantry ecclesiastic control was well-nigh absolute; in the boroughs it was proportionately less. I have already quoted an instance of 133 London names where Peter is discovered but once to 35 Johns. In the Norwich Guild already mentioned, the proportion, or rather disproportion, is the same. To 128 Johns, 47 Williams, 41 Thomases, 33 Roberts, and 21 Richards, there are but 4 Peters. On the other hand, in Wiltshire, out of 588 names, we find 16 Peters to 92 Johns. This wide difference of ratio I find to be fully borne out in all other groups of early names. Thanks then to the ecclesiastics it did exist, and its relics at any rate are numerous enough. It is hence we get the shorter ‘Parr,’ ‘Piers,’ ‘Pierce,’ ‘Pears,’ ‘Pearse,’ and ‘Peers.’ It is hence with the patronymic added we get our ‘Parsons,’ ‘Pearsons,’ ‘Piersons,’ and the fuller ‘Peterson.’ It is hence once more with the pet desinences attached we get our ‘Perrins’ and ‘Perrens,’ our ‘Perrets,’ ‘Perretts,’ ‘Parrots,’ and ‘Parrets,’[84] our ‘Peterkins,’ ‘Perkins,’ ‘Parkins,’ and ‘Parkinsons,’ besides our ‘Perks’ and ‘Perkes’ innumerable.

‘Simon,’ or ‘Simeon,’ is represented by at least sixteen different personages in the Scriptures, so we may well expect to find that it has also impressed itself upon our own registers. The usual forms of the name in mediæval rolls is ‘Sim,’ ‘Simkin,’ and ‘Simonet.’ Thus we find such entries as ‘Simon fil. Sim,’ ‘Simkin Cock,’ ‘Symkyn Edward,’ ‘Simonettus Mercator,’ or ‘Symonet Vaillain.’ The French diminutive does not seem to have been so popular as that which the Flemings made so common, for I find no ‘Simnets’ in our directories, while a whole column has to be set aside for our ‘Simpkins’ and ‘Simpkinsons.’ ‘Simcock’ must have existed also, as our ‘Simcocks’ and ‘Simcoxes’ can testify. Other forms are found in ‘Sims,’ ‘Simms,’ ‘Simpson,’ ‘Simmons,’ ‘Simonds,’ ‘Symonds,’ ‘Simmonds,’ and ‘Symondsons.’ This latter is met with in the Rolls of Parliament in the guise of ‘Symondesson.’ ‘Philip,’ as another of the Apostles of Jesus, was also popular. As with ‘Simon,’ most of the nursery forms are still found as the chief components of its surnames. Skelton, the poet-laureate—in lieu of a better—of Henry VIII., reminds us of its chief contraction, ‘Philp,’ or ‘Phip,’ in his lines on a dead sparrow, named Philip:—

Many times and oft,
Upon my finger aloft,
I played with him, tittle-tattle,
And fed him with my spattle,
With his bill between my lips.
It was my pretty Phips.

Thus we derive our ‘Phelps,’ ‘Philps,’ ‘Phipps,’ and ‘Phipson.’ Adding to these our ‘Philips,’ ‘Philipsons,’ ‘Philcoxes,’ ‘Philpotts,’ and ‘Phillots,’ we see that we are not likely soon to be quit of Philip. He is now, however, out of fashion as a Christian name. ‘Philpot,’[85] I need scarcely say, was very popular as the representative of the Norman-French ‘Philipot,’ found in such entries as ‘Thomas Phylypotte,’ or ‘John Philipot;’ but endeavours to deduce his origin as well in spelling as in sound from the characteristics displayed by the renowned Toby Phillpot are not wanting, for I see him figuring in the ‘London Directory’ as ‘Fillpot.’ Archbishop Trench quotes from one of Careless’s letters to Philpot the following passage, which serves to show that three hundred years ago at least the name had been played upon in similar fashion: ‘Oh, good Master Philpot (he says), which art a principal pot indeed, filled with much precious liquor—oh, pot most happy! of the High Potter ordained to honour.’ Some years ago, when a Philpott was appointed to the episcopal chair of Worcester, Dr. Philpotts being yet at Exeter, the following lines got abroad:—

‘A good appointment?’ ‘No, it’s not,’
Said old beer-drinking Peter Watts;
‘At Worcester one but hears “Phil-pott;”
At generous Exeter, “Phil-potts.”’

‘Fillpot’ as well as ‘Fillip’ are both found in mediæval registers in the cases of ‘Roger Fylpot’ and ‘Walter Felip.’ An old song, quoted in ‘Political Poems’ (i. 60), says of the defeated soldiers at Halidon Hill:—

On Filip Valas fast cri they,

There for to dwell, and him avaunce.

The ‘Fillpots’ of our present directories may therefore have thus spelt their names for four or five hundred years. Anyhow they have precedent for the form.

‘Matthew the Publican’ seems to have been a favourite alike in England and France. ‘Matt’ was the homely appellative, and thus besides ‘Mathews’ and ‘Mathewson,’ we meet with ‘Matts,’ ‘Matson,’ ‘Mattison,’ and ‘Mattinson.’ Our ‘Mayhews’ represent the foreign dress, and can refer their origin to such personages as ‘Adam fil. Maheu,’ or ‘Mayeu de Basingbourne.’ ‘Bartholomew,’ for what reason I can scarcely say, was a prime favourite with our forefathers, and has left innumerable proofs of the same. ‘Batt’ or ‘Bett’ seems to have been the favourite curtailment. The author of ‘Piers Plowman’ speaks of ‘Bette the Bocher’ (Butcher), ‘Bette the Bedel,’ and makes Reason bid

Bette kutte
A bough outher tweye,
And bete Beton therewith.

‘Batty,’ ‘Bates,’ ‘Batson,’ ‘Batcock,’ ‘Badcock,’ ‘Batkins,’ ‘Badkins,’ ‘Betson,’ ‘Bedson,’ and ‘Betty’ are relics of this. ‘Bartle,’ and the Norman-French ‘Bartelot,’ found in such entries as ‘Bartel Frobisher,’ ‘John fil. Bertol,’ ‘Bartelot Govi,’ or ‘Edward Barttlette,’ at once bespeak the origin of our ‘Bartles’ and ‘Bartletts.’[86] Nor was this all. Another favourite sobriquet for this same name was ‘Toly’ or ‘Tholy,’ hence such registrations as ‘Tholy Oldcorn,’ or ‘Robert Toly,’ or ‘William fil. Tholy.’ Our ‘Tolleys,’ ‘Tollys’ and ‘Tolsons’[87] are thus explained. None of these could have been the offspring of any old ‘Ladye Betty,’ as Mr. Lower seems to imagine, since that name, as I have shown, did not exist in England at this time, nor in fact can it be said to have been known till rendered fashionable by Elizabeth Woodville, the bride of Edward IV. What an influence a single individual may wield over our personal nomenclature may be thus seen, when we remember the enormous preponderance of this latter name during the two centuries that followed the reign of the imperious but ‘good Queen Bess,’ and the glorious scattering of the Spanish Armada. This, too, escaping the withering influences of the Puritan era, continued through all, and now holds the fourth place in English esteem.

In the poem I have just quoted, Reason

Called Caton his knave
Curteis of speche,
And also Tomme Trewe-tonge.

Thus we see that ‘Tom,’ as the popular form of ‘Thomas,’ has been in vogue for many centuries. ‘Thomas,’ like some of the above names, received an increased impulse from the Crusades. But another circumstance also befriended it. In its numerous progeny may be read again the story of the feud that arose between the haughty Archbishop and Henry II., a feud that terminated so fatally for the former, and made the spot where he fell hallowed for centuries by the pilgrimages of shrine-worshippers. Piers, in Langland’s poem, says,

I nolde fange a ferthyng

For seint Thomas shryne.

The surnames whose origin we must undoubtedly attribute, in the majority of cases, to the notoriety given to the sobriquet possessed by this murdered prelate are many. The patronymic is clearly marked in our ‘Thomasons,’ ‘Thomsons,’ and ‘Thompsons.’ The favoured Norman diminutive is equally assured of perpetuation in our ‘Thomasetts,’ ‘Thomsetts,’ and ‘Thompsetts;’ the Saxon being as fully popularised in our ‘Thompkins,’ ‘Tompkins,’ ‘Tomkins,’ and ‘Tomkinsons.’ The softer termination is also firmly settled in our ‘Thomlins,’ ‘Tomlins,’ and ‘Tomlinsons.’[88] More abbreviated patronymics are to be met with also in our ‘Thomms,’ ‘Thoms,’ and ‘Toms.’ With so many representatives in the list of rational beings, we need not be surprised to find the lower order of creation under obligations to this title. It was with the death of St. Thomas of Canterbury, and the consequent popularity of his name, arose so many sobriquets of which the same name became a component part. The cat became a ‘tom-cat,’ a simple-natured man a ‘tom-coney,’ a silly fellow a ‘tom-noddy’ or ‘tom-fool,’ a romping girl a ‘tom-boy,’ and a wren a ‘tom-tit.’ Andrew has made little impression on English nomenclature, but in Scotland he is universal,[89] for not only is St. Andrew the patron saint, but some of his relics are said to have been brought thither in the 4th century. ‘Andrew,’ ‘Andrews,’ and ‘Anderson’ are its surnames, but nearly all belong to the north side of the Tweed. ‘James,’ too, has failed to be popular in England, but ‘John’ in the shape of ‘Jack’ has robbed him, as we have seen, of nearly all his property. Such entries as ‘James le Queynt,’ or ‘Ralph Jamson,’ or ‘William Gimmison,’ were occasionally registered, and in the form of ‘James’ ‘Jameson,’ ‘Jimson’ and ‘Jimpson’ they still exist.[90] ‘Jamieson’ is Scotch. Of the Gospel writers we have already noticed ‘Matthew’ and ‘John.’ In ‘Mark’ we see the progenitor not merely of our ‘Marks’ and the Latinized ‘Marcus,’ but of ‘Marcock,’ ‘Markin,’ and ‘Marson’ also. The mention of ‘Luke’ recalls such names as ‘Luckins,’ ‘Luckock,’ ‘Lucock,’ or ‘Locock,’ ‘Luckett,’ and perchance ‘Lockett.’ It is in the form of ‘Lucus,’ however, that he is generally known. The author of ‘Piers Plowman’ speaks of ‘Marc,’ ‘Mathew,’ ‘Johan,’ and ‘Lucas.’

Of the later period of New Testament history, few names were better represented than ‘Nicholas,’ but it was ‘St. Nicholas’ of the fourth century who chiefly gave it its position. Owing to several well-known legends that connected themselves with this famous Archbishop of Myra, he became the patron saint of boys, sailors, parish clerks, and even thieves. Two of the most favoured curtailments of this name were ‘Nicol’ and ‘Nick.’ From the one we have derived our ‘Nicholls’ and ‘Nicholsons;’ from the other our ‘Nixs,’ ‘Nicks,’ ‘Nixons,’ ‘Nicksons,’ and ‘Nickersons.’ Judging from our surnames, ‘Nick’ was the more favoured term. In the old song ‘Joan to the Maypole,’ it is said:

Nan, Noll, Kate, Moll,
Brave lasses have lads to attend ’em;
Hodge, Nick, Tom, Dick,
Brave country dancers, who can amend ’em?

But the most popular form of all was that of ‘Cole’[91] or ‘Colin,’ which came to us through the Normans. ‘Colin’ is one more instance of the diminutive ‘on’ or ‘in.’ Thus we derive our ‘Collins,’ ‘Collinsons,’ and ‘Colsons.’ The more usual desinence still lives in our ‘Colletts’ and ‘Colets.’ This is the form found in one of the ‘Coventry Mysteries,’ where allusion is made to

Kytt Cakeler, and Colett Crane,

Gylle Fetyse, and Fayr Jane.

Miss Yonge mentions a ‘Collette Boilet’ who, in the fifteenth century, caused a reformation of the nuns of St. Clara, and Mr. Lower has a ‘St. Colette,’ whose parents had given him the name out of respect to ‘St. Nicholas.’ ‘Coletta Clarke’ is found in Clutterbuck’s ‘Hertford’ (Index). St. Nicholas, it is clear, was not neglected.

The proto-martyr Stephen has left many memorials in our nomenclature of the popularity which his story obtained among the English peasantry. The name proper is found in such entries as ‘Esteven Walays,’ or ‘Jordan fil. Stephen,’ and their descendants now figure amongst us as ‘Stephens,’ ‘Stevens,’ ‘Stephenson,’ and ‘Stevenson.’ More curtailed forms are met with in ‘Steenson’ and ‘Stinson,’ and the more corrupted ‘Stimson’ and ‘Stimpson.’ The Norman diminutive was of course ‘Stevenet’ or ‘Stevenot,’ and this still remains with us in our ‘Stennets’ and ‘Stennetts.’ Nor do Paul and Barnabas lack memorials. Traces of the former are found in our ‘Polsons,’[92] ‘Pawsons,’ ‘Powlsons,’ and more correct ‘Paulsons.’ In one of these, at least, we are reminded of the old pronunciation of this name. Piers Plowman styles it ‘Powel,’ and even so late as 1562 we find Heywood writing the following epigram:—

Rob Peter and pay Poule, thou sayst I do;

But thou robst and poulst Peter and Poule, too.

This at once explains the origin of our more diminutive ‘Pauletts,’ ‘Pouletts,’ ‘Powletts,’ and ‘Pollitts.’[93] ‘Barnabas’ has left his impress upon our ‘Barnabys,’ and when not local, ‘Barnbys.’ Miss Yonge mentions an epitaph in Durham, dated 1633, commemorative of one of the proctors of the chapter—

Under this thorne tree

Lies honest Barnabee.

A century later we find it in one of D’Orsey’s ballads—

Davy the drowsy, and Barnaby bowzy,

At breakfast will flout and will jeer, boys;

Sluggards shall chatter, with small beer and water,

Whilst you shall tope off the March beer, boys.—Vol. i. 311.

This name is now entirely out of fashion.

With five Alexanders in the New Testament it did not need the celebrity of the great commander nor that of more fabulous heroes to make his name common. In Scotland it obtained great favour, both in palace and cottage. The softer form was always used. Chaucer says—

Alisaundre’s storie is commune;

and Langland, among other foreign places of interest, speaks of

Armonye and Alisaundre.

This was no doubt the popular pronunciation of the time, except that it was usually abbreviated into ‘Sander,’ or ‘Saunder.’ Thus, in ‘Cocke Lorells Bote,’ it is said—

Here is Saunder Sadeler, of Frog-street Corner,

With Jelyan Joly at sign of the Bokeler.

Hence it is we find such entries as ‘Thomas fil. Saundre,’ ‘John Alisaundre,’ ‘Edward Saundercock,’ or ‘Sandres Ewart,’ and hence again such surnames as ‘Sandercock,’ ‘Sanderson,’ ‘Saunderson,’ ‘Sanders,’ and ‘Saunders.’ ‘Timothy,’ saving in ‘Timms,’ ‘Timbs,’ ‘Timson,’ and ‘Timcock,’ seems to have been overlooked, and yet Glutton in ‘Piers Plowman’ is followed into the tavern by

Wat the warner, and his wife both,

Tymme the tinker, and twain of his ’prentices.

But, however unfortunate Paul’s spiritual son may have been, the same cannot be said of Clement, his fellow-labourer. Raised to high distinction as the title of one of the greatest of the early fathers, a popular name among the Popes (for no less than fourteen were found to bear the sobriquet), Clement could not fail to meet with honour. Its usual forms were ‘Clement,’ ‘Clemence,’ and ‘Clemency.’ Diminutives were found also in ‘Clem’ and ‘Clim.’ Of the noted North English archer it is said, in one of the Robin Hood ballads—

And Clim of the Clough hath plenty enough,

If he but a penny can spare;

and in the old song of the ‘Green-gown’ a rhyme is easily secured by the conjunction of such names as—

Clem, Joan, and Isabel,

Sue, Alice, and bonny Nell.

The chief surnames whose paternity is traceable to ‘Clement’ are ‘Clements,’ ‘Clementson,’ ‘Clemms,’ ‘Clemson,’ and ‘Clempson.’ Archangelic names are found in our ‘Gabbs,’ ‘Gabbots,’ and ‘Gabcocks,’ from ‘Gabriel;’ and in our ‘Michaelson,’ ‘Mitchels,’ and ‘Mitchelsons,’ from ‘Michael.’

But let us somewhat more closely analyse these names. As I have said before, from the most casual survey one thing is evident, they represent the Church’s Calendar rather than the Church’s Bible. They are the extract of sacred legends rather than of Holy Writ. There is not a single name to betray any internal acquaintance with the Scriptures. Nor could there well be. An English Bible was unknown, and had there been one to consult, the reading powers of the nation were too limited for it to have been much used. Many of the clergy themselves could not read. Thus the Bible, so far as extends beyond the leading incidents it contains, was a sealed book. This had its effect upon our nomenclature. We cannot find a single trace of acquaintance with its rarer histories. What a wide change in this respect did Wicklyffe and the Reformation effect! With an English Bible in their hand, with the clearing away of the mists of ignorance and superstition, with the destruction of all forces that could obstruct the spread of knowledge, all was altered. The Bible, posted up in every church, might be read of all—and all who could probably did read it. This at once had its effect upon our nomenclature. Names familiar enough in our own day to those ordinarily conversant with the Scriptures, but till then absolutely unknown, were brought forth from their hiding-places and made subservient to the new impulse of the nation. Names associated with the more obscure books, and with personages less directly confronting us in our study of the Word, begin now to be inscribed upon our registers. The ‘Proceedings in Chancery’ is the best evidence how far this had affected our nomenclature towards the close of the reign of Elizabeth. We come across such names, for example, as ‘Ezechie Newbold,’ ‘Dyna Bocher,’ ‘Phenenna Salmon,’ ‘Ezekiel Guppye,’ ‘Dedimus Buckland,’ ‘Esdras Botright,’ ‘Sydrach Sympson,’ ‘Judith Botswain,’ ‘Isachar Brookes,’ ‘Gamaliel Capell,’ ‘Emanuel Cole,’ ‘Abigaill Cordell,’ ‘Reuben Crane,’ ‘Amos Boteler,’ ‘Philologus Forth,’ ‘Zabulon Clerke,’ ‘Archelaus Gifford,’ ‘Gideon Hancock,’ ‘Seth Awcocke,’ ‘Abacucke Harman,’ or ‘Melchizedek Payn.’ The ‘State Papers’ (domestic) of James I.’s reign are still more largely imbued with the new influence. We are now brought face to face with entries such as ‘Uriah Babington,’ ‘Aquila Wykes,’ ‘Hilkiah Crooke,’ ‘Caleb Morley,’ ‘Philemon Powell,’ ‘Melchior Rainald,’ ‘Zachæus Ivitt,’ ‘Ananias Dyce,’ ‘Agrippina Bingley,’ ‘Apollonia Cotton,’ or ‘Phineas Pett.’ So far, however, the change was of a certain kind. These new names did not clash with the old nomenclature. There was a greater variety, that was all. Both romance and sacred names went together, and in the same family might be seen ‘John’ and ‘Ralph,’ ‘Isaac’ and ‘Robert,’ ‘Reuben’ and ‘Richard.’ But a new spirit was being infused into the heart of the nation, that spirit which at length brought about the Puritan Commonwealth. We all know how this great change came. It is neither our intention, nor need we enter into it here. Sufficient for our purpose that it came. This revolution marvellously affected our nomenclature. It was not simply that the old and, so to speak, pagan names ‘William,’ ‘Roland,’ ‘Edward,’ ‘Ralph,’ ‘Aymon,’ and a hundred others, once household words, were condemned to oblivion, but even the names of the Christian saints were ignored. ‘Cromwell,’ says Cleveland, ‘hath beat up his drums clean through the Old Testament—you may know the genealogy of our Saviour by the names of his regiment. The muster master hath no other list than the first chapter of St. Matthew.’ The Old Testament, indeed, seems to have been alone in favour.[94] The practice of choosing such designations borrowed therefrom as ‘Enoch,’ ‘Hiram,’ ‘Seth,’ ‘Phineas,’ ‘Eli,’ ‘Obadiah,’ ‘Job,’ ‘Joel,’ ‘Hezekiah,’ ‘Habbakuk,’ ‘Caleb,’ ‘Zeruiah,’ ‘Joshua,’ ‘Hephzibah,’ or ‘Zerubbabel,’ has left its mark to this very day, especially in our more retired country districts. Self-abasement showed itself, at least externally, in the choice of names of bad repute. ‘Cains,’ ‘Absoloms,’ ‘Abners,’ ‘Delilahs,’ ‘Dinahs,’ ‘Tamars,’ ‘Korahs,’ ‘Abirams,’ and ‘Sapphiras,’[95] abounded. Nor was this all. Of all excesses those of a religious character are proverbially most intemperate in their course. Abstract qualities, prominent words of Scriptures, nay, even short and familiar sentences culled from its pages, or parodied, were tacked on to represent the Christian name. Camden mentions, as existing in his own day, such appellations as ‘Free-gift,’ ‘Reformation,’ ‘Earth,’ ‘Dust,’ ‘Ashes,’ ‘Delivery,’ ‘Morefruit,’ ‘Tribulation,’ ‘The Lord is near,’ ‘More trial,’ ‘Discipline,’ ‘Joy again,’ ‘From above’—names which, he says, ‘have lately been given by some to their children, with no evil meaning, but upon some singular and precise conceit.’ ‘Praise-God-Barebones’ is but another specimen of this extraordinary spirit. The brother of this latter could boast a still longer sobriquet. He had chosen for himself, it is said, the title, ‘If-Christ-had-not-died-for-you-you-had-been-damned-Barebones,’ but his acquaintances becoming wearied of its length, retained only the last word, and as ‘Damned-Barebones’ left him a sobriquet more curt than pleasant. The following is a list of a jury said to have been enclosed in the county of Sussex at this time, and selected of course from the number of the Saints:—

Accepted Trevor of Norsham.

Redeemed Compton of Battle.

Faint-not Hewit of Heathfield.

Make-peace Heaton of Hare.

God-reward Smart of Fivehurst.

Stand-fast-on-high Stringer of Crowhurst.

Earth Adams of Waketon.

Called Lower of the same.

Kill-sin Pimple of Witham.

Return Spelman of Watling.

Be-faithful Joiner of Butling.

Fly-debate Roberts of the same.

Fight-the-good-fight-of-faith White of Emer.

More-fruit Fowler of East Hadly.

Hope-for Bending of the same.

Graceful Herding of Lewes.

Weep-not Billing of the same.

Meek Brewer of Oakeham.

The above list may be thought by many a mere burlesque, and so I doubt not it is, but a similar category could be quickly put together from more reliable sources, and some of the names therein set down did certainly exist. The following entries are quoted by Mr. Lower from the registers of Warbleton:—

1617. Be-stedfast Elyarde.

— Goodgift Gynnings.

1622. Lament Willard.

1624. Defend Outered.

1625. Faint-not Dighurst.

— Fere-not Rhodes.

1677. Replenish French.[96]

The ‘Proceedings in Chancery’ furnish us with ‘Virtue Hunt,’ ‘Temperance Dowlande,’ ‘Charitie Bowes,’ and ‘Lamentation Chapman.’ The ‘Visitation of Yorkshire’ gives us ‘Fayth Neville,’ ‘Grace Clayton,’ ‘Troth Bellingham,’ and ‘Prudence Spenser;’ and amongst other more general instances may be mentioned ‘Experience Mayhew,’[97] ‘Abstinence Pougher,’[98] ‘Increase Mather,’[99] ‘Thankfull Frewen,’ ‘Accepted Frewen,’[100] ‘Live-well Sherwood,’[101] ‘Faythful Fortescue,’[102] and ‘Silence Leigh.’[103] The more extraordinary and rabid phases of this spirit have now passed away, but the general effect remains. It is from this date, I have said, must be noted the declension of such a familiar name as ‘Humphrey,’ or ‘Ralph,’ or ‘Joscelyn,’ and of the romance names generally. From this date we perceive the use of some of our present most familiar and till then well-nigh unknown baptismal names.

With the restoration of Charles II. much of the more rhapsodic features of this curious spirit died out, but it is more than probable it was fed elsewhere. The rigorous persecution of the Nonconformists which marked and blotted his reign, the persecuting spirit which drove hundreds to seek beyond the seas that asylum for religious liberty which was denied them at home, could have none other effect than to make these settlers cling the more tenaciously to the new scheme of doctrine and practice, for which they had sacrificed so much. Thus the feeling which had led them at home to allow the Written Word to be the only source from which to select names for their children, or to make substitutions for their own, was not likely to be suppressed in the backwoods.[104] Their very life and its surroundings there but harmonized with the primitive histories of those whose names they had chosen. A kind of affinity seemed to be established between them. This spirit was fanned by the very paucity of population, and the difficulty of keeping up any connexion with the outer world. They were shut up within themselves, and thus the Bible became to them, not so much a record of the past as that through which ran the chronicle of the present. It was a living thread interwoven into their very lives. Their history was inscribed in its pages, their piety was fed by its doctrines. Its impress lay upon all, its influence pervaded all. All this has left its mark upon Anglo-American nomenclature—nay, to such a degree do these influences still exist, that, though derived from the same sources, the American system and our own can scarce be viewed otherwise than as separate and distinct. Rare, indeed, are the early romance and the Teutonic names in those tracts where the descendants of the primitive settlers are found. All are derived from the Scriptures, or are of that fancy character, a love of which arose with their Puritan forefathers. Appellations such as ‘Seth,’ or ‘Abel,’ or ‘Lot,’ or ‘Jonas,’ or ‘Asa,’ or ‘Jabez,’ or ‘Abijah,’ or ‘Phineas,’ or ‘Priscilla,’ or ‘Epaphroditus,’ abound on every hand. Sobriquets like ‘Faith,’ and ‘Hope,’ and ‘Charity,’ and ‘Patience,’ and ‘Prudence,’ and ‘Grace,’ and ‘Mercy,’ have become literally as household words, and names yet more uncouth and strange may be heard every day, sounding oddly indeed to English ears. There would seem to have been a revulsion of feeling, even from such of the Biblical names as had lived in the earlier centuries of our history, as if the connexion of ‘Peter,’ and ‘John,’ and ‘James,’ and ‘Thomas’ with others of more pagan origin had made them unworthy of further use; certain it is, that these are in no way so familiar with them as with us. Such are the strange humours that pass over the hearts of men and communities. Such are the changes that the nomenclature of peoples, as well as of places and things, undergo through the more extraordinary convulsions which sometimes seize the body corporate of society. Truly it is a strange story this that our surnames tell us. ‘What’s in a name?’ in the light of all this, seems indeed but a pleasantry, meant to denote how full, how teeming with the story of our lives is each—as so they are.

CHAPTER II.

LOCAL SURNAMES.

In well-nigh every country where personal nomenclature has assumed a sure and settled basis, that is, where a second or surname has become an hereditary possession in the family, we shall find that that portion of it which is of local origin bears by far the largest proportion to the whole. We could well proceed, therefore, to this class apart from any other motive, but when we further reflect that it is this local class which in the first instance became hereditary, we at once perceive an additional claim upon our attention.

I need scarcely say at the outset that, as with all countries so with England, prefixes of various kinds were at first freely used to declare more particularly whence the nominee was sprung. Thus, if he were come from some town or city he would be ‘William of York,’ or ‘John of Bolton,’ this enclitic being familiarly pronounced ‘à,’ as ‘William a York,’ or ‘John a Bolton.’ For instance, it is said in an old poem anent Robin Hood—

It had been better of William a Trent

To have been abed with sorrowe;

where it simply means ‘William of Trent.’[105] This, of course, is met in France by ‘de,’ as it was also on English soil during early Norman times. If, on the other hand, the situation only of the abode gave the personality of the nominee, the connecting link was varied according to the humour or caprice of the speaker, or the relative aspect of the site itself. Thus, if we take up the old Hundred Rolls we shall find such entries as ‘John Above-brook,’ or ‘Adelina Above-town,’ or ‘Thomas Behind-water,’ or ‘John Beneath-the-town.’ Or take a more extended instance, such as ‘Lane.’ We find it attached to the personal name in such fashions as the following:—

Cecilia in the Lane.

Emma a la Lane.

John de la Lane.

John de Lane.

Mariota en le Lane.

Philippa ate Lane.

Thomas super Lane.

‘Brook,’ again, by the variety of the prefixes which I find employed, may well be cited as a further example. We have such entries as these:—

Alice de la Broke.

Andreas ate Broke.

Peter ad le Broke.

Matilda ad Broke.

Reginald del Broke.

Richard apud Broke.

Sarra de Broke.

Reginald bihunde Broke.

These are extracts of more or less formal entries, but they serve at least to show how it was at first a mere matter of course to put in the enclitics that associated the personal or Christian name with that which we call the surname. Glancing over the instances just quoted, we see that of these definitive terms some are purely Norman, some equally purely Latin, a few are an admixture of Norman and Latin, a common thing in a day when the latter was the language of indenture, and the rest are Saxon, ‘ate’ being the chief one. This ‘atte’ was ‘at the,’ answering to the Norman ‘de la,’ ‘del,’ or ‘du,’ and was familiarly contracted by our forefathers into the other forms of ‘ate’ and ‘att;’ or for the sake of euphony, when a vowel preceded the name proper, extended to ‘atten.’ In our larger and more formal Rolls these seldom occur, owing to their being inscribed all but invariably in the Norman-French or Latin style I have instanced above, but in the smaller abbey records, and those of a more private interest, these Saxon prefixes are common. In the writers of the period they are familiarly used. Thus, in the ‘Coventry Mysteries,’ mention is made of—

Thom Tynker, and Betrys Belle,

Peyrs Potter, and Watt at the Well;[106]

while ‘Piers Plowman’ represents Covetousness as saying—

For some tyme I served
Symme atte-Style
And was his prentice.

It may not be known to all my readers, probably not even to all those most immediately concerned, that this ‘atte’ or ‘att’ has fared with us in a manner similar to that of the Norman ‘du’ and ‘de la.’ It has occasionally been incorporated with the sobriquet of locality, and thus become a recognised part of the surname itself. Take the two names from the two poems I have but just quoted, ‘Watt at the Well’ and ‘Symme atte Style.’ Now we have at this present day but simple ‘Styles’ to represent this latter, while in respect of the former we have not merely ‘Wells,’ but ‘Attwell,’ or ‘Atwell.’ These examples are not solitary ones. Thus, such a name as ‘John atte Wood,’ or ‘Gilbert atte Wode,’ has bequeathed us not merely the familiar ‘Wood,’ but ‘Attwood’ and ‘Atwood’ also. ‘William atte Lea,’ that is, the pasture, can boast a large posterity of ‘Leighs,’ ‘Leghs,’ and ‘Lees;’ but he is well-nigh as commonly represented by our ‘Atlays’ and ‘Attlees.’ And not to become tedious in illustrations, ‘atte-Borough’ is now ‘Attenborough’ or ‘Atterbury;’ ‘atte-Ridge’ has become ‘Attridge,’ ‘atte-Field’ ‘Atfield;’ while such other designations as ‘atte-Town,’ ‘atte-Hill,’ ‘atte-Water,’ ‘atte-Worth,’ ‘atte-Tree,’ or ‘atte-Cliffe,’ are in this nineteenth century of ours registered frequently as mere ‘Atton,’ ‘Athill,’ ‘Atwater,’ ‘Atworth,’ ‘Attree,’ and ‘Atcliffe.’ Sometimes, however, this prefix dropped down into the simple ‘a.’ The notorious Pinder of Wakefield was ‘George a Green’ according to the ballads regarding Robin Hood. ‘Thomas a Becket,’ literally, I doubt not, ‘Thomas atte Becket’—that is, the streamlet—is but another instance from more general history. The name is found in a more Norman dress in the Hundred Rolls, where one ‘Wydo del Beck’t’ is set down. In the same way ‘atte-Gate’ became the jewelled ‘Agate,’ and ‘atte-More’ ‘Amore’ and the sentimental ‘Amor.’ I have said that where the name proper—i.e. the word of locality—began with a vowel the letter ‘n’ was added to ‘atte’ for purposes of euphony. It is interesting to note how this euphonic ‘n’ has still survived when all else of the prefix has lapsed. Thus by a kind of prosthesis our familiar ‘Noakes’ or ‘Nokes’ stands for ‘Atten-Oaks,’ that is, ‘At the Oaks.’ ‘Piers Plowman,’ in another edition from that I have already quoted, makes Covetousness to say—

For sum tyme I served
Simme atte Noke,
And was his plight prentys,
His profit to look.

‘Nash’ is but put for ‘atten-Ash,’ or as some of our Rolls records it, ‘atte-Nash;’ ‘Nalder’ for ‘atten-Alder,’ ‘Nelmes’ for ‘atten-Elms,’ ‘Nall’ for atten-Hall,’ while ‘Oven’ and ‘Orchard’ in the olden registers are found as ‘atte-Novene’ and ‘atte-Norchard’ respectively. That this practice, in a day of an unsettled orthography, was common, is easily judged by the traces that may be detected in our ordinary vocabulary of a similar habit. In the period we are considering ‘ale’ was the vulgar term for an ‘ale-house.’ We still talk of the ‘ale-stake,’ that is, the public-house sign. Thus ‘atten-ale’ got corrupted into ‘nale.’ Chaucer, with many other writers, so uses it. In the ‘Freres Tale’ we are told how the Sompnour—

Maken him gret festes at the nale.

An old poem, too, says—

Robin will Gilot
Leden to the nale
And sitten there togedres
And tellen their tale.

Thus our forefathers used to talk alike of ‘an ouch,’ or ‘a nouch,’ for a jewel or setting of gold. Gower has it—

When thou hast taken any thynge

Of love’s gifte, or nouche, or rynge.

Even now, I need scarcely remind my readers, we talk of a ‘newt,’ which is nothing but a contraction of ‘an ewt’ or ‘eft,’ and it is still a question whether ‘nedder,’ provincially used for ‘an adder,’ was not originally contracted in a similar manner. ‘Nale,’ or ‘Nail,’ thus locally derived, still lives in our directories as a surname.[107]

While ‘atte’ has been unquestionably the one chief prefix to these more familiar local terms, it is not the sole one that has left its mark. Our ‘Bywaters’ and ‘Bywoods’ are but the descendants of such mediæval folk as ‘Elias Bi-the-water,’ or ‘Edward By-the-wode,’ and our ‘Byfords,’ ‘Bytheseas,’ and ‘Bygates,’ or ‘Byatts,’ are equally clearly the offspring of some early ancestor who dwelt beside some streamlet shallow, or marine greensward, or woodland hatchway.

In this pursuit after individuality, however, this was not the only method adopted. Another class of names arose from the somewhat contrary practice of appending to the place-word a termination equally significative of residence. This suffix was of two kinds, one ending in ‘er,’ the other in ‘man.’ Thus if the rustic householder dwelt in the meadows, he became known among his acquaintance as ‘Robert the Fielder,’ or ‘Filder;’ if under the greenwood shade, ‘Woodyer,’ or ‘Woodyear,’ or ‘Woodman’—relics of the old ‘le Wodere’ and ‘le Wodeman;’ if by the precincts of the sanctuary, ‘Churcher’ or ‘Churchman’ in the south of England, or ‘Kirker’ or ‘Kirkman’ in the north; if by some priory, ‘Templer’ or ‘Templeman;’ if by the village cross, ‘Crosser,’ or ‘Crossman,’ or ‘Croucher,’ or ‘Crouchman;’ if by the bridge, ‘Bridger’ or ‘Bridgman;’ if by the brook, ‘Brooker,’ or ‘Brookman,’ or ‘Becker,’ or ‘Beckman;’ if by the well, the immortal ‘Weller,’ or ‘Welman,’ or ‘Crossweller,’ if, as was often the case, it lay beneath the roadside crucifix; if by some particular tree, ‘Beecher,’ once written ‘le Beechar,’ or ‘Asher,’ or ‘Hollier,’ or ‘Holleyman,’ or ‘Oker,’ and so on.

A certain number of names of the class we are now dwelling upon have arisen from a somewhat peculiar colloquial use of the term ‘end’ in vogue with our Saxon forefathers. The method of its employment is still common in Lancashire and Yorkshire. The poorer classes still speak of a neighbour as dwelling ‘at the street end;’ they never by any chance use the fuller phrase ‘the end of the street.’ Chaucer uses it as a familiar mode of expression. The Friar, in the preface to his story, says slightingly—

A Sompnour is a rener up and doun
With mandments for fornication,
And is beaten at every tounes ende.

In the ‘Persones Prologue,’ too, the same poet says—

Therewith the moons exaltation
In mene Libra, alway gan ascende
As we were entring at the thorpes ende.

How colloquial it must have been in his day we may judge from the following list of names I have been enabled to pick up from various records, and which I could have enlarged had I so chosen:—

John ate Bruge-ende.

Walter atte Townshende.

John de Poundesende.

Margaret ate Laneande.

William atte Streteshend.

John atte Burende.

Adam de Wodeshende.

Martin de Clyveshende.

John de la Wykhend.

William de Overende.

John de Dichende.

Thomas atte Greaveshende.

Besides these we have such a Latinized form for ‘Townsend,’ or ‘Townshend,’ as ‘Ad finem villæ,’ or ‘End’ itself without further particularity, in such a sobriquet as ‘William atte-Nende.’[108] The several points of the compass, too, are marked in ‘Northende,’ ‘Eastende,’ and ‘Westende,’ the latter having become stereotyped in the fashionable mouth as the quarter in which the more opulent portion of the town reside, whether its aspect be towards the setting sun or the reverse—but an exaggeration of this kind is a mere trifle where fashion is concerned.

But these Saxon compounded names, numerous as they are, are but few in comparison with the simple locative itself, without prefix, without desinence, ‘Geoffrey atte Style,’ ‘Roger atte Lane,’ ‘Walter atte Water,’ ‘Thomas atte Brooke;’ or in the more Norman fashion of many of our rolls, ‘John de la Ford,’ ‘Robert del Holme,’ ‘Richard de la Field,’ ‘Alice de la Strete:’ all these might linger for awhile, but in the end, as we might foresee, as well in the mouths of men as later on in the pages of our registers, they became simple ‘Geoffrey Styles’ and ‘Roger Lane,’ ‘Walter Waters’ and ‘Thomas Brookes,’ ‘John Ford’ and ‘Robert Holmes,’ ‘Alice Street’ and ‘Richard Field.’ Here, then, is an endless source of surnames to our hands. Here is the spring from which have issued those local sobriquets which preponderate so largely over those of every other class. To analyse all these were impossible, and the task of selection is little less difficult. But we may give the preference to such leading provincialisms as are embodied in our personal nomenclature, or to such terms as by their existence there betoken that, though not now, yet they did then occupy a place in the vocabulary of every-day converse. For it is wonderful how numberless are the local words, now obsolete saving for our registers, which were used in ordinary talk not more than five hundred years ago. That many of them have been thus rescued from oblivion by our hereditary nomenclature is due no doubt to the fact that the period of the formation of the latter is that also during which our tongue was settling down into that composite form of Saxon and Norman in which we now have it, and which in spite of losses in consequence, in spite of here and there a noble word crushed out, has given our English language its pliancy and suppleness, its strengths and shades.

We have mentioned ‘de la Woode’ and Attewoode.’ ‘De la Hirst’ is exactly similar—its compounds equally numerous. The pasture beside it is ‘Hursley’—if filberts abound it is ‘Hazlehurst;’ if ashes, ‘Ashurst;’ if lindens or linds, ‘Lyndhurst;’ if elms, ‘Elmhurst.’ If hawks frequented it we find it styled ‘Hawkhurst;’ if goats, ‘Goathirst;’ if badgers or brocks, ‘Brocklehurst;’ if deer, ‘Dewhurst’ (spelt Duerhurst, 1375). The ‘holt’ was less in size, being merely a coppice or small thicket. Chaucer speaks of ‘holtes and hayes.’ ‘De la Holt’ is of frequent occurrence in our early rolls. Our ‘Cockshots’ are but the ‘cocksholt,’ the liquid letter being elided as in ‘Aldershot,’ ‘Oakshot,’[109] and ‘Bagshot,’ or badgers’ holt. A ‘shaw’ or ‘schaw’ was a small woody shade or covert. An old manuscript says:—

In somer when the shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and long,
It is fulle mery in feyre foreste
To here the foulys song.

As a shelter for game and the wilder animals, it is found in such compounds as ‘Bagshaw,’ the badger being evidently common; ‘Hindshaw,’ ‘Ramshaw,’ ‘Hogshaw,’[110] ‘Cockshaw,’ ‘Henshaw,’ and ‘Earnshaw.’ The occurrence of such names as ‘Shallcross’ and ‘Shawcross,’ ‘Henshall’ and ‘Henshaw,’ and ‘Kersall’ and ‘Kershaw,’ would lead us to imagine that this word too has been somewhat corrupted. Other descriptive compounds are found in ‘Birkenshaw,’ or ‘Denshaw,’ or ‘Bradshaw,’ or ‘Langshaw,’ or ‘Openshaw.’ As for ‘Shaw’ simple, every county in England has it locally, and every directory surnominally. Such a name as ‘Richard de la Frith’ or ‘George ate Frith’ carries us at once to the woodland copses that underlay our steeper mountain-sides—they represented the wider and more wooded valleys in fact. We find the term lingering locally in such a name as ‘Chapel-en-le-frith’ in the Peak of Derbyshire. The usual alliterative expression of early days was ‘by frith and fell.’ We have it varied in an old poem of the fourteenth century:—

The Duke of Braband first of all
Swore, for thing that might befall,
That he should both day and night
Help Sir Edward in his right,
In town, in field, in frith and fen.

Our ‘Friths’ are by no means in danger of obsoletism, to judge by our directories—and they are a pleasant memorial of a term which was once in familiar use as expressive of some of the most picturesque portions of English scenery. Such a name as ‘De la Dene’ or ‘Atte Den,’ of frequent occurrence formerly, and as ‘Dean’ or ‘Den’ equally familiar now, is worthy of particularity. A den was a sunken and wooded vale, where cattle might find alike covert and pasture. Thus it is that we are accustomed to speak of a den in connexion with animal life, in such phrases as a ‘den of lions’ or a ‘den of thieves.’ See how early this notion sprang. We have a remembrance of the brock in ‘Brogden,’ the wolf in ‘Wolfenden,’ the fox in ‘Foxden,’ the ram in ‘Ramsden,’ the hare in ‘Harden,’ and the deer in ‘Dearden,’[111] ‘Buckden’ or ‘Bugden,’ ‘Rayden’ and ‘Roden,’ or ‘Rowden.’ The more domesticated animals abide with us in ‘Horsden,’ ‘Oxenden,’ and ‘Cowden,’ ‘Lambden,’ or ‘Lamden,’ ‘Borden,’ and ‘Sugden,’ or ‘Sowden;’ ‘Swinden,’ ‘Eversden,’ and ‘Ogden,’ at first written ‘de Hogdene.’ With regard especially to this latter class it is that our ‘Court of Dens’ arose, which till late years settled all disputes relative to forest pannage. The dweller therein, engaged probably in the tendance of such cattle as I have mentioned last, was the ‘Denyer’ or ‘Denman,’ both surnames still living in our midst. While the den was given up mainly to swine, the ley[112] afforded shelter to all manner of domestic livestock, not to mention, however, some few of the wilder quarry. The equine species has given to us ‘Horsley;’ the bovine, ‘Cowley,’ ‘Kinley,’ and ‘Oxlee’ or ‘Oxley;’ the deer, ‘Hartley,’ ‘Rowley,’ ‘Buckley,’ and ‘Hindley;’ the fox, ‘Foxley;’[113] the hare, ‘Harley,’ and even the sheep, though generally driven to the scantier pastures of the rocks and steeps, has left us in ‘Shipley’ a trace of its footprint in the deeper and more sheltered glades. Characteristic of the trees which enclosed it, we get ‘Ashley,’ ‘Elmsley,’ ‘Oakley,’ ‘Lindley,’ or ‘Berkeley.’ Of the name simple we have endless forms; those of ‘Lee,’ ‘Legh,’ ‘Lea,’ ‘Lees,’ ‘Laye,’ and ‘Leigh’[114] being the most familiar. In the old rolls their ancestors figure in an equal variety of dresses, for we may at once light upon such names as ‘Emma de la Leye,’ or ‘Richard de la Legh,’ or ‘Robert de la Lee,’ or ‘William de la Lea,’ or ‘Petronilla de la Le.’ Our ‘Atlays’ and ‘Atlees,’ as I have already said, are but the more Saxon ‘Atte Lee.’

In some of these surnames we can trace the early cuttings amongst the thickly wooded districts where the larger wealds were situated. Our ‘Royds,’ or ‘Rodds,’ or ‘Rodes,’ all hail from some spot ridded of waste wood. Compounds may be found in our ‘Huntroyds,’ that is, the clearing for the chase; ‘Holroyds,’ that is, the holly-clearing; and ‘Acroyds,’ that is, the oak-clearing, the term ‘acorn,’ that is, ‘oak-corn,’ and such local names as ‘Acton’ or ‘Acland,’ reminding us of this the older spelling; ‘Ormerod,’ again, is but Ormes-clearing—Orme being, as we have already shown, a common Saxon personal name. Our ‘Greaves’ and ‘Graves’ and ‘Groves,’ descendants of the ‘de la Groves’ and ‘Atte Groves’ of early rolls, not to mention the more personal ‘Grover’ and ‘Graver,’ convey the same idea. A ‘Greave’ was a woodland avenue, graved or cut out of the forest. Fairfax speaks of the—

Wind in holts and shady greaves.

’Tis true we only ‘grave’ in stone now, but it was not always so. Thus in the ‘Legend of Good Women’ mention is made of—

A little herber that I have

That benched was on turves fresh ygrave.

We still call the last resting-place of the dead in our churchyards a grave, though dug from the soil. I have already mentioned ‘de la Graveshend’ occurring as a surname. Our ‘Hargreaves’ hail from the grove where the hares are plentiful; our ‘Congreves’ representing the same in the coney. Our ‘Greeves’ we shall have occasion in another chapter to show belong to another and more occupative class of surnames. Our ‘Thwaites,’ too, belong to this category. Locally the term is confined to Cumberland and the north, where the Norwegians left it. It is exactly equivalent to ‘field,’ a felled place, or woodland clearing. The compounds formed from it are too numerous to wade through. Amongst others, however, we have, as denotive of the substances ridded, ‘Thornthwaite,’ ‘Limethwaite,’ ‘Rownthwaite,’ and ‘Hawthornthwaite;’ of peculiarity in position or shape, ‘Brathwaite’ (broad), and ‘Micklethwaite;’ of contents, ‘Thistlethwaite,’ ‘Cornthwaite,’ and ‘Crossthwaite.’ The very dress of the majority of these compounds testifies to the northern origin of the root-word.

Our ‘Slade’ represents the ‘de la Slades’ of the Hundred Rolls. A slade was a small strip of green plain within a woodland. One of the numberless rhymes concerning Robin Hood says—

It had been better of William a Trent
To have been abed with sorrowe,
Than to be that day in the greenwood slade
To meet with Little John’s arrowe.

Its nature is still more characterised in ‘Robert de Greneslade,’ that is, the green-slade; ‘William de la Morslade,’ the moorland-slade; ‘Richard de Wytslade,’ the white-slade; ‘Michael de Ocslade,’ the oak-slade, and ‘William de Waldeslade,’[115] the forest-slade (weald); ‘Sladen,’ that is, slade-den, implies a woodland hollow. As a local term there is a little difference betwixt it and ‘launde,’ only the latter has no suspicion of indenture about it. A launde was a pretty and rich piece of grassy sward in the heart of a forest, what we should now call an open wood, in fact. Thus it is we term the space in our gardens within the surrounding shrubberies lawns. Chaucer says of Theseus on hunting bent—

To the launde he rideth him ful right

There was the hart wont to have his flight.

In the ‘Morte Arthur,’ too, we are told of hunting—

At the hartes in these hye laundes.

This is the source of more surnames than we might imagine. Hence are sprung our ‘Launds,’ ‘Lands,’ ‘Lowndes,’ ‘Landers,’ in many cases, and our obsolete ‘Landmans.’ The forms, as at first met with, are equally varied. We have ‘atte-Lond,’ ‘de la Laund,’ and ‘de la Lande,’ while the origin of our ‘Lunds’ shows itself in ‘de la Lund.’ ‘De la Holme’ still flourishes in our ‘Holmes,’ while the more personal form is found in our ‘Holmers’ and ‘Holmans.’ An holm was a flat meadow-land lying within the windings of some valley stream. Our ‘Platts,’ found in such an entry as ‘Robert del Plat,’ are similarly sprung, but in the ‘plat’ there was less thought of general surroundings. As an adjective it was in common use formerly. For instance, in the ‘Romaunt of the Rose,’ when the God of Love had shot his arrow, it is said—

When I was hurte thus in stound

I fell down plat unto the ground.

Our ‘Knowles,’ ‘Knowlers,’ and ‘Knowlmans’ carry us to the gently rising slopes in the woods, grassy and free of timber, the old form of the first being ‘de la Cnolle’ or ‘atte Knolle.’ Our ‘Lynches,’ once written ‘de Linches,’ I should surmise, are but a dress of the still familiar link across our northern border—the flatland running by the river and sea-coast, while our ‘Kays’ (when not the old British ‘Kay’) represent the more artificial ‘quay,’ reminding us of the knitting together of beam and stone. It is but the same word as we apply to locks, the idea of both being that of securing or fastening.

Though it is to the more open plains and woodlands we must look for the majority of our place-names, nevertheless, looking up our steeps and into the fissures of the hills, we may see that every feature in the landscape has its memorial in our nomenclature. ‘De la Hill’ needs no remark. ‘De la Helle’ and ‘atte Helle’ are somewhat less pleasant to look upon, but they are only another form of the same. ‘De la Hulle,’ again, is but a third setting of the same. Gower says—

Upon the hulles hyhe
Of Othrin and Olympe also,
And eke of three hulles mo
She fond and gadreth herbes sweet.

‘Mountain’ is the ‘de la Montaigne’ of the twelfth century, but of course of Norman introduction. This sobriquet reminds us of the story told of a certain Dr. Mountain, chaplain to Charles II., who, when the king asked him if he could recommend him a suitable man for a vacant bishopric, is reported to have answered, ‘Sire, if you had but the faith of a grain of mustard seed, the matter could be settled at once.’ ‘How?’ inquired the astonished monarch. ‘Why, my liege, you could then say unto this mountain (smiting his own breast), “be thou removed to that see,” and it should be done.’[116] Our ‘Cloughs’ represent the narrow fissures betwixt the hills. From the same root we owe our ‘Clives’ (the ‘de la Clive’ of the Hundred Rolls), ‘Cliffes,’ ‘Cleves,’ and ‘Clowes,’ not to mention our endless ‘Cliffords,’ ‘Cliftons,’ ‘Clifdens,’ ‘Cliveleys,’ ‘Clevelands,’ ‘Tunnicliffes,’ ‘Sutcliffes,’ ‘Nethercliffes,’ ‘Topliffs,’ ‘Ratcliffes,’ or ‘Redcliffes,’ ‘Faircloughs,’ and ‘Stonecloughs.’ Any prominence of rock or earth was a ‘cop,’ or ‘cope,’ from the Saxon ‘cop,’ a head.[117] Chaucer talks of the ‘cop of the nose.’ In Wicklyffe’s version of Luke iv. 29, it says, ‘And thei risen up and droven him out withouten the cytee, and ledden him to the coppe of the hill on which their cytee was bilded to cast him down.’ We still talk of a coping-stone. Hence, from its local use, we have derived our ‘Copes’ and ‘Copps,’ ‘Copleys’ and ‘Copelands,’ and ‘Copestakes.’ From ‘cob,’ which is but another form of the same word, we get our ‘Cobbs,’ Cobhams,’ ‘Cobwells,’ ‘Cobdens,’ and ‘Cobleys.’ Thus, to consult the Parliamentary Writs alone, we find such entries as ‘Robert de Cobbe,’ ‘Reginald de Cobeham,’ ‘John de Cobwell,’ or ‘Godfrey de Coppden.’ As a cant term for a rich or prominent man ‘cob’ is found in many of our later writers, and ‘cobby’ more early implied a headstrong nature. Another term in use for a local prominence was ‘ness,’ or ‘naze.’ ‘Roger atte Ness’ occurs in the thirteenth century; and ‘Longness’ and ‘Thickness’ and ‘Redness’ are but compounds, unless, as is quite possible, they be from the same root in its more personal relationship to the human face, the word nose being familiarly so pronounced at this time. Our ‘Downs’ and ‘Dunns,’ when not sprung from ‘le Dun,’ are but descendants of the old ‘de la Dune,’ of the hilly slopes; our ‘Combs’ and ‘Combes’ representing the ‘de la Cumbe’ of the ridgy hollows, or ‘cup-shaped depressions’ of the higher hillsides, as Mr. Taylor happily expresses it. It is thus we get our terms ‘honeycomb,’ ‘cockscomb,’ ‘haircomb,’ &c. Few terms have connected themselves so much as this with the local nomenclature of our land, and few have made themselves so conspicuous in our directories. The writer I have just mentioned quotes a Cumberland poet, who says—

There’s Cumwhitton, Cumwhinton, Cumranton,
Cumrangan, Cumrew, and Cumcatch,
And mony mair Cums i’ the County,
But nin wi’ Cumdivock can match.

Of those compounds which have become surnames we cannot possibly recite all, but among the more common are ‘Thorncombe’ and ‘Broadcombe,’ ‘Newcombe’ and ‘Morcombe,’ ‘Lipscombe’ and ‘Woolcombe,’ ‘Withecombe’ and ‘Buddicom,’ and ‘Slocombe.’ We have already mentioned ‘Amore.’ The simple ‘More,’ or ‘Moore,’ is very familiar; ‘atte Mor,’ or ‘de la More,’ being the older forms. This has ever been a favourite name for punning rhymes. In the ‘Book of Days,’ several plays of this kind have been preserved. When Dr. Manners Sutton[118] succeeded Dr. Moore in the Archiepiscopal chair of Canterbury, the following lines were written:—

What say you?—the archbishop’s dead?

A loss, indeed! Oh, on his head

May Heaven its blessings pour!

But if with such a heart and mind,

In Manners we his equal find,

Why should we wish for More?

When Sir Thomas More was Chancellor, it is said, his great attention to his duties caused all litigation to come to an end in the Court of Chancery. The following epigram bearing upon this fact was written:—

When More some years had Chancellor been,
No more suits did remain;
The same shall never more be seen
Till More be there again.

Our ‘Heaths’ explain themselves, but our ‘Heths,’ though the same, and from the first found as ‘atte Heth,’ are not so transparent. Some might be tempted to set them down in a more Israelitish category as descendants of the ‘children of Heth,’ but such is not the case. Somewhat similar to ‘Cope,’ mentioned above, was ‘Knop’ or ‘Knap’—a summit.[119] Any protuberance, whatever it might be, was with our old writers a ‘knop.’[120] Rose-buds and buttons alike, with Chaucer, are ‘knops’:—

Among the knops I chose one
So fair, that of the remnant none
Ne praise I halfe so wel as it.

North in his Plutarch says, ‘And both these rivers turning in one, carrying a swift streame, doe make the knappe of the said hill very strong of its situation to lodge a camp upon.’ To our hilltops, then, it is we owe our ‘Knaps,’ ‘Knappers,’ ‘Knapmans,’ ‘Knopps,’ ‘Knopes,’ ‘Knabwells,’ and ‘Knaptons.’ Our ‘Howes’ represent the smaller hills, while still less prominent would be the abodes of our early ‘Lawes,’[121] and ‘Lowes,’ or ‘de la Lawe’ and ‘de la Lowe,’ as they are found in the Hundred Rolls. Our ‘Shores’ need no explanation, but our ‘Overs’ are less known. An old poem, quoted by Mr. Halliwell, says:—

She come out of Sexlonde,
And rived here at Dovere,
That stondes upon the sees overe.

It seems to have been used generally to denote the flat-lands that lay about the sea-coast or rivers generally—what we should call in Scotland the links. I have already mentioned our ‘Overends’ as similar to our ‘Townsends;’ ‘Overman’ doubtless is but the more personal form of the same.[122]

Coming gradually to more definite traces of human habitation, we may mention some of our tree names. Of several, such as ‘Nash,’ and ‘Nalder,’ and ‘Nokes,’ we have already spoken. Such a name as ‘Henry atte Beeche,’ or ‘Walter de la Lind,’ or ‘Richard atte Ok,’ now found as simple ‘Beech,’ and ‘Lind,’ and ‘Oake,’ reminds us that we are not without further obligations to the tree world. Settling by or under the shade of some gigantic elm or oak, a sobriquet of this kind would be perfectly natural. As our ‘Lyndhursts’ and ‘Lindleys’ prove, ‘lind’ was once familiarly used for our now fuller ‘linden.’ Piers Plowman says:—

Blisse of the briddes
Broughte me aslepe,
And under a lynde
Upon a launde
Leaned I.

Were the Malvern dreamer describing poetically the birth and the origin of the future Swedish nightingale who four hundred years afterwards was to entrance the world with her song, he could not have been more happy in his expression. Our ‘Ashes’ and ‘Birches,’ once ‘de la Byrche,’ need little remark, but ‘Birks,’ the harder form of the latter, is not so familiar, though it is still preserved in such names as ‘Birkenhead,’ or ‘Birkenshaw,’ or ‘Berkeley.’ A small group of trees would be equally perspicuous. Thus have arisen our ‘Twelvetrees,’ and ‘Fiveashes,’ and ‘Snooks,’ a mere corruption of the Kentish ‘Sevenoaks.’ Mr. Lower mentions ‘Quatrefages,’ that is, ‘four beeches,’ as a corresponding instance in French nomenclature.[123]

A common object in the country lane or by-path would be the gate or hatch that ran across the road to confine the deer. The old provincialism for this was ‘yate.’ We are told of Griselda in the ‘Clerkes Tale’ that—

With glad chere to the yate

she is gone

To grete the markisesse;

and Piers Plowman says our Lord came in through

Both dore and yates

To Peter and to these apostles.[124]

Our ‘Yates,’ written once ‘Atte Yate,’ by their numbers can bear testimony to the familiarity with which this expression was once used. ‘Byatt’ I have just shown to be the same as ‘Bygate,’ and ‘Woodyat’ is but equivalent to ‘Woodgate.’ Other compounds are found in the old registers. In the ‘Placitorum’ of the thirteenth century, for instance, we light upon a ‘Christiana atte Chircheyate,’ and a ‘John atte Foldyate;’ while in the Hundred Rolls of the same period we find a ‘Walter atte Lideyate,’ now familiarly known to us as ‘Lidgate.’ Our ‘Hatchs,’ once enrolled as ‘de la Hache,’ like our before-mentioned ‘Hatchers’ and ‘Hatchmans,’ represented the simple bar that ran athwart the woodland pathway. We still call the upper-deck with its crossbars the hatches, and a weir is yet with the country folk a hatch. Chaucer speaks of—

Lurking in hernes and in lanes blinde.

Any nook or corner of land was with our forefathers a ‘hearne,’ and as ‘en le Herne’ or ‘atte Hurne’ the surname is frequently found in the thirteenth century.[125] ‘De la Corner’ is, of course, but a synonymous term. A passage betwixt two houses, or a narrow defile between two hillsides, was a ‘gore,’ akin, we may safely say, to ‘gorge.’ Our ‘Gores,’ as descendants of the old ‘de la Gore,’ are thus explained. ‘De la Goreway,’ which once existed, is now, I believe, obsolete. One of the most fertile roots of nomenclature was the simple roadside ‘cross’ or ‘crouch,’ the latter old English form still lingering in our ‘crutched’ or ‘crouched Friars.’ Langland describes a pilgrim as having ‘many a crouche on his cloke;’ i.e. many a mark of the cross embroidered thereon. A dweller by one of these wayside crucifixes would easily get the sobriquet therefrom, and thus we find ‘atte Crouch’ to be of early occurrence. Our ‘Crouchmans’ and ‘Crouchers’ I have already mentioned. A ‘Richard Crocheman’ is found in the Hundred Rolls, and a ‘William Croucheman’ in another entry of the same period. As for the simpler ‘Cross,’ once written ‘atte Cross,’ it is to be met with everywhere. ‘Crosier’ and ‘Crozier’ I shall, in my next chapter, show to be official rather than local; so we may pass them by for the present. The more Saxon ‘Rood’ or ‘Rudd’ is not without its representatives. ‘Margery atte Rudde’ is found in the ‘Placitorum,’ and our ‘Rudders’ and ‘Ruddimans,’ I doubt not, stand for the more directly personal form. Talking of crosses, we may mention, in passing, our ‘Bellhouses,’ not unfrequently found as ‘atte Belhus’ or ‘de la Belhuse.’ The founder of this name dwelt in the small domicile attached to the monastic pile, and, no doubt, had for his care the striking of the innumerable calls to the supply of either the bodily or spiritual wants of those within. Our ‘Bellows,’ I believe, are but a modification of this. The last syllable has undergone a similar change in several other instances. Thus the form ‘del Hellus’ was but ‘Hill-house,’ ‘Woodus’ is but the old ‘de la Wodehouse,’ ‘Stannus’ but ‘Stanehouse’ or ‘Stonehouse,’ ‘Malthus’ but ‘Malthouse,’ and ‘Bacchus’ is found originally as ‘del Bakehouse.’[126] The old ‘Atte Grene,’ a name familiar enough without the prefix, may be set beside our ‘Plastows,’ relics of the ‘Atte Pleistowe’ or ‘de la Pleystowe’ of the period we are considering. The ‘play-stowe’ (that is, ‘playground’) seems to have been the general term in olden days for the open piece of greensward near the centre of the village where the may-pole stood, and where all the sports at holiday times and wake tides were carried on.[127] Our ‘Meads’ or ‘Meddes’ hail from the ‘meadow,’ or ‘mead.’ ‘Ate Med’ is the early form.[128]

A ‘croft’ was an enclosed field for pasture. Besides ‘Croft’ it has given us ‘Meadowcroft,’ ‘Ryecroft,’ ‘Bancroft’ (that is, bean-croft), ‘Berecroft’ (that is, barley-croft), and ‘Haycraft’ (that is, hedged-croft). It seems, however, to have been freely used, also, in the sense of garth or yard, the enclosure in which, or by which, the house stood. Thus, in the ‘Townley Mysteries,’ Satan is represented as calling to the depraved and vile, and saying—

Come to my crofte alle ye.

With the humour of the period, which was ever largely intermingled in even the most sacred themes, one of the characters, acting as a demon, replies—

Souls come so thyk now late unto hell
As ever
Our porter at hell-gate
Is holden so strait,
Up early and downe late,
He rests never.

There is little distinction to be drawn between ‘garth’ and ‘yard’ in the North of England, and in reality there ought to be none. Such names, however, as ‘Nicholas de Apelyerd,’ or ‘Robert del Apelgarth,’ or ‘Richard atte Orcheyerd,’ the descendants of whom are still in our midst, bespeak a former familiarity of usage which we cannot find now. We have just mentioned ‘Haycraft.’ This reminds us of our ‘Hayes.’ Chaucer, in his ‘Troilus,’ says—

But right so as these holtes and these hayes,
That han in winter dead been and dry,
Revesten them in grene when that May is,
When every lusty beast listeth to pley.

A ‘hay’ was nothing but a ‘hedge.’ In the Hundred Rolls we find such names occurring as ‘Margery de la Haye’ or ‘Roger de la Hagh,’ or in a compounded form ‘Richard de la Woodhaye,’ or ‘Robert de Brodheye.’ Of the simple root the forms most common now are ‘Hay,’ ‘Hayes,’ ‘Haighs,’ ‘Haigs,’ and ‘Hawes.’ The composite forms are endless. ‘Roundhay’ explains itself. ‘Lyndsay’ I find spelt at this period as ‘Lyndshay,’ so that it is not the islet whereon the lind or linden grows, but the hedge of these shrubs. Besides these we have ‘Haywood’ or ‘Heywood,’ ‘Hayland’ and ‘Hayley.’ From the form ‘hawe,’ mentioned above, we have our ‘Hawleys,’ ‘Haworths,’ and ‘Hawtons,’ or ‘Haughtons,’ and probably the longest name in the directory, that of ‘Featherstonehaugh.’ We still talk of the haw-thorn and haw-haw. Chaucer uses the term for a farmyard or garth—

And eke there was a polkat in his hawe

That, as he sayd, his capons had yslawe.

This at once explains such a name as ‘Peter in le Hawe’ found in the Hundred Rolls. But Chaucer has a prettier use of it than this, a use still abiding in our ‘Churchays,’ relics of the mediæval ‘de Chirchehay.’ He speaks twice of the ‘Churchhawe,’ or graveyard. How pretty it is! almost as pretty as its Saxon synonym ‘Godsacre,’ only that is more endeared to us, inasmuch as since the acre always denoted the sowed land (Latin ‘ager’), so it whispers to us hopefully of the great harvest-tide to come when the seed thus sown in corruption shall be raised an incorruptible body. Our ‘Goodacres’ are doubtless thus derived—and with such names as ‘Acreman’ or ‘Akerman,’ ‘Oldacre’ or ‘Oddiker,’ ‘Longacre’ and ‘Whittaker’ (or ‘Whytacre’ or ‘Witacre,’ as I find it in the thirteenth century), help to remind us how in early days an acre denoted less a fixed measure of land than soil itself that lay under the plough. But this by the way. I have just mentioned ‘Hayworth.’ A name like ‘William de la Worth’ (H.R.) represented our ‘Worths’ in the thirteenth century. Properly speaking, any sufficiently warded place—it had come to denote a small farmstead at the time the surname arose. ‘Charlesworth’ is the ‘churl’s worth,’ the familiar metamorphosis of this name being identical with that of the astronomic ‘Charles Wain,’ and with such place-names as ‘Charle-wood,’ ‘Charlton,’ ‘Carlton,’ and ‘Charley.’ Our various ‘Unsworths,’ ‘Ainsworths,’ ‘Whitworths,’ ‘Langworthys,’ ‘Kenworthys,’ ‘Wortleys,’ and others of this class are familiar to us all. Surnames like ‘Roger de la Grange,’ or ‘Geoffrey de la Grange,’ or ‘John le Granger,’[129] remind us that grange also was commonly used at this time for a farmstead, it being in reality nothing more than our granary.[130] Piers Plowman portrays the good Samaritan thus—

His wounds he washed,
Enbawmed hym, and bound his head,
And ledde hym forth on ‘Lyard’
To ‘lex Christi,’ a graunge
Wel sixe mile or sevene
Beside the newe market.

Our ‘Barnes,’ I need not say, are of similar origin. The Celtic ‘booth,’ a frail tenement of ‘boughs,’ whose temporary character our Biblical account of the Israelitish wanderings so well helps to preserve, has given birth to our ‘Booths’ and ‘Boothmans,’ once written ‘de la Bothe’ and ‘Botheman.’ They may possibly have kept the stall at the fair or market. Comparisons we know are ever odious, but set beside the more Saxon ‘Steads’ and ‘Steadmans’ the former inevitably suffer. The very names of these latter betray to us the well-nigh best characteristics of the race whence they are sprung. To be steady and stedfast are its best and most inherent qualities—qualities which, added to the dash and spirit of the Norman, have given the position England to-day occupies among the nations of the world. Our ‘Bowers’ and ‘Bowermans,’ when not occupied in the bowyer’s or bower’s craft, represent the earlier ‘de la Bore’ or ‘atte Bore,’ and have taken their origin from the old ‘bower,’ the rustics’ abode. It is the same word whence has sprung our bucolic ‘boor.’ An old English term for a house or mansion was ‘bold,’ that which was built. The old ‘De la Bolde,’ therefore, will in many cases be the origination of our ‘Bolds.’ Our ‘Halls’ explain themselves, but the older form of ‘Hale’ (once ‘atte Hale’ or ‘de la Hale’) is not so easily traceable. ‘De la Sale,’ sometimes also found as ‘de la Saule,’ was the Norman synonym of the same.

Soon they sembled in sale,

Both kynge and cardinale,

says an old writer. ‘Sale’ and ‘Saul’ are still extant. Names still more curious than these are those taken, not from the residence itself, but from particular rooms in such residence. They are doubtless the result of the feudal system, which, with its formal list of house officers and attendants, required the presence of at least one in each separate chamber. Hence the Norman-introduced parlour, that is, the speaking or reception room, gave us ‘Henry del Parlour,’ or ‘Richard ate Parlour;’ the kitchen, ‘Geoffrey atte Kitchen,’ or ‘Richard del Kechen;’ or the pantry ‘John de la Panetrie,’ or ‘Henry de la Panetrie.’ But I shall have occasion to speak more fully of this by-and-by, so I will say no more here.

There is a pretty word which has been restored from an undeserved oblivion within the last few years by Mr. Tennyson, in his ‘Brook,’ as an idyll perhaps the distinctly finest thing of its kind in the English language. The word referred to is ‘thorpe,’ a village, pronounced ‘throp’ or ‘trop’ by our forefathers. Thus in the ‘Clerkes Tale’ we are told—

Nought far fro this palace honorable,
There stood a thorpe of sight delitable,
In which the poor folk of that village
Hadden their bestes and their harborage;

while in the ‘Assembly of Fowls’ mention is prettily made of

The tame ruddocke and the coward kite,

The cock, that horiloge is of thorpes lite.

This diversity is well exemplified in our nomenclature. Thus the term in its simple form is found in such entries as ‘Adam de Thorpe,’ or ‘Simon de Throp,’ or ‘Ralph de Trop,’ all of which are to be met with in the one same register; while compounded with other words, we are all familiar with such surnames as ‘Gawthorpe,’ ‘Winthrop,’ ‘Hartrop,’ ‘Denthorp,’ ‘Buckthorp,’ ‘Fridaythorp,’ ‘Conythorp,’ ‘Calthrop,’ or ‘Westropp.’ Our ‘Thrupps,’ too, we must not forget as but another corrupted form of the same root.

There are two words whose sense has become so enlarged and whose importance among English local terms has become so great that we cannot but give them a place by themselves. They are those of ‘town’ and ‘borough.’ Such registered names as ‘William de la Towne’ or ‘Ralph de la Tune,’ now found as ‘Town’ and ‘Tune,’ represent the former in its primeval sense. The term is still used in Scotland, as it was used here some generations ago, to denote a farm and all its surrounding enclosures. In Wicklyffe’s Bible, where we read ‘and went their ways, one to his farm, another to his merchandize,’ it is ‘one into his toun.’ In the story of the Prodigal Son, too, it is similarly employed—‘And he wente and drough him to one of the cyteseynes of that cuntre, and he sente him into his toun to feed swyn.’ Let me quote Chaucer also to the same effect—

Whan I out of the door came,
I fast about me beheld,
Then saw I but a large field,
As farre as ever I might see,
Without toune, house, or tree.

It is thus a name I have already mentioned, ‘de la Townshende,’ the parent of our ‘Townsends,’ ‘Townshends,’ and ‘Townends,’ has arisen. Another entry, that of ‘Robert Withouten-town,’ has, as we might have expected, left no issue. Such names as ‘Adam de la Bury,’ or ‘Walter atte Bure,’ or ‘John atte Burende’ (the latter now extinct, I fear), open out to us a still larger mass of existing nomenclature. The manorial residence is still in many parts of England, with the country folk, the ‘bury.’ To this or ‘borough’ we owe our ‘Burys,’ ‘Boroughs,’ ‘Borrows,’ ‘Buroughs,’ ‘Burkes,’ ‘Broughs,’ ‘Burghs,’ and even ‘Bugges,’ so that, though Hood has inquired—

If a party had a voice,

What mortal would be a Bugg by choice?

still the possessors of that not exactly euphonious cognomen can reflect with pride upon not merely a long pedigree, but lofty relationships. Another form of the same word, familiar, too, to early registers, was ‘de la Bere,’ and to this we owe our ‘Berrys,’ ‘Berrimans,’ ‘Beers,’ and ‘Beares.’ It is wonderful how the strict meaning of ‘shelter’ is preserved in all the terms founded upon its root ‘beorgan,’ to hide. Is it a repository to guard the ashes of the dead?—it is a barrow, the act of sepulture itself being the burial. Is it a refuge for the coneys?—it is a burrow, or beare, as in ‘Coneybeare.’[131] Is it a raised mound for the security of man?—it is a bury, borough, brough, or burgh. How altered now the meaning of these two words ‘borough’ and ‘town.’ Once but the abiding-place of a scattered family or two, they are now the centres of teeming populations. Of these, while some are still extending their tether, others have passed the middle age of their strength and vigour, and from the accidents of physical and industrial life are but surely succumbing to that dotage which, as in man so in man’s works, seems to be but premonitory of their final decay. How true is it that the fashion of this world passeth away. Even now this ever restless spirit of change is going on. We ourselves can scarce tell the spot upon which we were born. We need not wait for death to find that our place very soon knoweth us no more, and when we talk of treading in the footprints of the generations that have gone before, it would seem as though it were but to blind ourselves to the sober and unwelcome truth that we are rather treading upon the débris of the changing years.

But there is another class of surnames we may fitly introduce here, which, I doubt not, forms no small proportion in the aggregate mass of our nomenclature—that of sign-names. We in a cultivated age like that of the present fail, as we must, to realize the effect of these latter upon the current life of our forefathers. We now pass up and down a street, and, apart from the aid of the numbered doors and larger windows, and a more peculiar frontage, above the door we may see the name of the proprietor and the character of his occupation in letters so large that it is literally a fact that he who runs may read them. But all this is of gradual and slowly developed growth. The day we are considering knew nothing of these. It was a time when the clergy themselves in many cases were unable to read, when such education as a child of twelve years is now a dunce not to know would have given then for the possession of like attainments the sobriquet of ‘le Clerke’ or ‘le Beauclerk.’ And if this was the case with the learned, what would it be with the lower grades and classes of society? We may, therefore, well inquire what would be the use of gilded characters such as we now-a-days may see, detailing the name of the shopkeeper and the fashion of his stores? None at all. They could not read them. Thus we find in their stead the practice prevailing of putting up signs and symbols to denote the character of the shop, or to mark the individuality of the owner. In an age of escutcheons and all the insignia of heraldry, this was but natural. All manner of instruments, all styles of dress, all kinds of ensigns rudely carved or painted, that a rough or quaint fancy could suggest, were placed in a conspicuous position by the hatch or over the doorway, to catch, if it were possible, the eye of the wayfarer. Even the name itself, when it was capable of being so played upon, was turned into a symbol readable to the popular mind. Nor was it deemed necessary that the device should speak directly of the trade. Apart from implements and utensils, Nature herself was exhausted to supply sufficiently attractive signs; and what with mermaids and griffins, unicorns and centaurs, and other winged monsters, we see that they did not stop here—the supernatural also had to be pressed into this service. The animal kingdom was, however, specially popular—the hostelries peculiarly engrossing this class from the fact that they so often had emblazoned the recognizances of the family with which they stood immediately connected. Thus we still have ‘Red Lions’ and ‘White Lions,’ ‘Blue Boars’ and ‘Boars’ Heads,’ ‘White Bears’ and ‘Roebucks,’ and ‘Bulls’ Heads.’ Relics of the more special emblems remain in the barber’s pole, to the end of which a bowl was once generally attached, to show he was a surgeon also—the pawnbroker’s three balls, the goldbeater’s mallet, or the shoemaker’s last. Of the more fanciful we have a capital idea given us in the lines from Pasquin’s ‘Nightcap,’ written so late as 1612—

First there is maister Peter at the Bell,
A linen-draper, and a wealthy man;
Then maister Thomas that doth stockings sell;
And George the Grocer at the Frying-pan;
And maister Timothie the woollen-draper;
And maister Salamon the leather-scraper;
And maister Frank the goldsmith at the Rose,
And maister Philip with the fiery nose;
And maister Miles the mercer at the Harrow;
And maister Mike the silkman at the Plow;
And maister Nicke the salter at the Sparrow;
And maister Dick the vintner at the Cow;
And Harry haberdasher at the Horne;
And Oliver the dyer at the Thorne;
And Bernard, barber-surgeon at the Fiddle;

And Moses, merchant-tailor at the Needle.[132]

More than three hundred years previous to this we find such names figuring in our registers as ‘John de la Rose,’ ‘John atte Belle,’ ‘Roger Horne,’ and ‘Nicholas Sparewe,’ while ‘Cow’ is met by its Norman equivalent in the instance of ‘Richard de la Vache.’ Of the rest, too, contained in the above lines, all are found in our existing nomenclature with the exception of ‘Fryingpan.’ Still more recently, the ‘British Apollo’ contained the following:—

I’m amused at the signs
As I pass through the town,
To see the odd mixture—
A ‘Magpie and Crown,’
The ‘Whale and the Crow,’
The ‘Razor and Hen,’
The ‘Leg and Seven Stars,’
The ‘Scissors and Pen,’
The ‘Axe and the Bottle,’
The ‘Tun and the Lute,’
The ‘Eagle and Child,’
The ‘Shovel and Boot.’

A word or two about these double signs before we pass on, as I cannot but think much ingenious nonsense has been written thereon. There can be no difficulty in accounting for these strange combinations, some of which still exist. A partnership in business would be readily understood by the conjoining of two hitherto separate signs. An apprentice who, on the death of his master, had succeeded to his business, would gladly retain the previous well-established badge, and simply show the change of hands by adding thereto his own. I cannot but think that such ingenious derivations as ‘God encompasseth us’ for the ‘Goat and Compasses,’ or the ‘Satyr and Bacchanals’ for the ‘Devil and Bag-o’-nails,’ or the ‘Boulogne Mouth’ for the ‘Bull and Mouth,’ are altogether unnecessary. A clever and imaginative mind could soon produce similar happy plays upon the conjunctions contained in the above lines, and yet the originations I have suggested for them all I think my readers will admit to be most natural. There is no more peculiarity about these than about the ordinary combinations of names we are accustomed to see in the streets every day of our lives, denoting partnership. Thus the only difference is that what we now read as ‘Smith and Wright,’ in an age when reading was less universal was, say, ‘Magpie and Crown.’ Partnerships, or business transactions, often bring peculiar conjunctions of names. So early as 1284, I find a ‘Nicholas Bacun’ acknowledging a bond to a certain ‘Hugh Motun,’ i.e. Mutton. (Riley’s ‘London,’ p. 23.) I have myself come across such combinations as ‘Shepherd and Calvert’—i.e. ‘Calveherd,’ or ‘Sparrow and Nightingale,’ or ‘Latimer and Ridley.’ During the early portion of my residence at Oxford the two Bible-clerkships connected with my college were in the hands of two gentlemen named ‘Robinson’ and ‘Crusoe.’ They lived on the same staircase, and their names being (as is customary) emblazoned above the door, the coincidence was the more remarkable. ‘Catchem’ and ‘Cheetham’ is said to have been the title of a lawyer’s firm, but I will not vouch for the accuracy of the statement. A story, too, goes that ‘Penn, Quill, and Driver’ once figured over a scrivener’s office, but this is still more hypothetical.

But to return. We may see, from what we have stated and quoted, that up to a comparatively recent period the written name seems to have been anything but customary even in the metropolis. Any one who will look into a book printed up to the seventeenth century will see on the titlepage the fact stated that it was published or sold at the sign of the ‘Stork,’ or ‘Crown,’ or ‘Peacock,’ or ‘Crane,’ as the case might be. How much we owe to this fashion I need scarcely say. The Hundred Rolls contain not merely a ‘Henry le Hatter,’ but a ‘Thomas del Hat;’ not only an ‘Adam le Lorimer,’ but a ‘Margery de Styrop.’ It is to some dealer in earthenware we owe our existing ‘Potts,’ some worker in metals our ‘Hammers,’ some carpenter our ‘Coffins,’ once synonymous with ‘Coffer,’ some osierbinder our ‘Basketts,’ some shoemaker our ‘Lasts,’ some cheesemonger our ‘Cheeses,’ some plowright our ‘Plows,’ some silversmith our ‘Spoons’ and ‘Silverspoons,’ and some cooper our ‘Tubbs’ and ‘Cades,’ our ‘Barrills’ and ‘Punshons,’ and so on with endless others. It was perfectly natural that all these should become surnames, that the same practice which led to men being called in the less populous country by such names as ‘Ralph atte Townsend,’ or ‘William atte Stile,’ or ‘Henry atte Hatch,’ or ‘Thomas atte Nash,’ should in the more closely inhabited city cause men to be distinguished as ‘Hugh atte Cokke,’ or ‘Walter de Whitehorse,’ or ‘John atte Gote’ or ‘de la Gote,’ or ‘Richard de la Vache,’ or ‘Thomas atte Ram,’ or ‘William atte Roebuck,’ or ‘Gilbert de la Hegle,’ or ‘John de la Roe,’ or ‘Reginald de la Wonte’ (weasel). Our only surprise would be were the case otherwise. Nevertheless, as we shall see in another chapter, many of these animal-names at least have arisen in another manner also.

And now we come to what we may term the second branch of local surnames, that branch which throws a light upon the migratory habits and roving tendencies of our forefathers. So far we have touched upon names implying a fixed residence in a fixed locality. We may now notice that class which by their very formation throw our minds upon that which precedes settlement in a particular spot, viz., removal—that which speaks to us of immigration. Such a name in our mediæval rolls as ‘Peter le Newe,’ or ‘Gilbert le Newcomen,’ or ‘Walter le Neweman,’ declares to us at once its origin. The owner has left his native village to push his interests and get a livelihood elsewhere, and upon his entrance as a stranger into some distant community, alone and friendless, nothing could be more natural than to distinguish him from the familiar ‘Peters,’ ‘Gilberts,’ and ‘Walters’ around by styling him as Peter, or Gilbert, or Walter the ‘New,’ or ‘Newman.’ This it is which is the origin of our ‘Stranges,’ descendants as they are of such mediæval folk as ‘Roger le Estrange’ or ‘Roger le Straunge.’ There was ‘Roger the Cooper’ and ‘Roger the Cheesemonger’ round the corner close to the market cross, and ‘Roger atte Ram,’ so, of course, this new-comer as distinguished from them was ‘Roger the Straunge’ or ‘Strange,’ and once so known, the more familiar he became, the more ‘Strange’ he became, though this may seem somewhat of a paradox. Thus, too, have arisen our ‘Strangers’ and ‘Strangemans.’ These, however, are the general terms. To quote a name like ‘Robert de Eastham’ or ‘William de Sutton’ is, as it were, to take up the plug from a never-ceasing fountain. We are thrown upon a list of sobriquets to which there is no tether. Take up a subscription paper, look over a list of speakers at a farmers’ dinner, scan the names of the clergy at a ministerial conference, all will possess a fair average of this class of surnames, early wanderers from one village to another, Saxons fresh escaped from serfdom seeking a livelihood in a new district, Norman tradesmen or retainers pushing forward for fresh positions and fresh gains in fresh fields. It is through the frequency of these has arisen the old couplet quoted by Verstigan—

In ‘Ford,’ in ‘Ham,’ in ‘Ley,’ in ‘Ton,’

The most of English surnames run.

There is probably no village or hamlet in England which has not subscribed in this manner to the sum total of our nomenclature. It is this which is so telltale of the present, for while a small rural spot like, say ‘Debenham,’ in Suffolk, or ‘Ashford,’ in Derbyshire, will have its score of representatives, a solitary ‘Richard de Lyverpole,’ or ‘Guido de Mancestre,’ or ‘John de Burmyngham’ will be all we can find to represent such large centres of population as Manchester, or Liverpool, or Birmingham. Mushroomlike they sprang up but yesterday, while for centuries these insignificant hamlets have pursued the even tenor of their way, somewhat disturbed, it may have been, from their equanimity four or five centuries agone, by the announcement that Ralph or Miles was about to leave them, and who, by thus becoming ‘Ralph de Debenham’ or ‘Miles de Ashford,’ have given to the world to the end of time the story of their early departure.

In the same class with the village names of England must we set our county surnames. These are of course but an insignificant number set by their brethren, still we must not pass them by without a word. In the present day, if we were to speak of a man in connexion with his county, we should say he was a Derbyshire or a Lancashire man, as the case might be. That they did this five or six hundred years ago is evidenced by the existence of these very names in our midst. Thus we can point in our records to such designations as ‘John Hamshire,’ or ‘Adam de Kent,’ or ‘Richard de Wiltshire,’ or ‘Geoffrey de Cornwayle.’ Still this was not the only form of county nomenclature. The Normans, I suspect it was, who introduced another. We have still ‘Kentish’ and ‘Devonish’ and ‘Cornish’ to represent the ‘William le Kentish’s,’ or ‘John le Devoneis’s,’ or ‘Margery le Cornyshe’s,’ of their early rolls; and our ‘Cornwallis’s’ also yet preserve such fuller forms as ‘Thomas le Cornwaleys,’ or ‘Philip le Cornwaleys.’

We may here mention our ‘Cockins,’ ‘Cockaignes,’ and ‘Cockaynes,’ instances of which are early found. An old poem begins—

Fur in sea, bi west Spayne,

Is a lond ihote Cockaigne.

There seems to be a general agreement among those who have studied the subject that our ‘cockney’ was originally a denizen of this fabled region, and then was afterwards, from a notion of London being the seat of luxury and effeminacy, transferred to that city. A ‘William Cockayne’ is found in the ‘Placitorum’ of Richard I.’s reign, while the Hundred Rolls are yet more precise in a ‘Richarde de Cockayne.’ Speaking of London, however, we must not forget our ‘Londonish’s.’ They are but relics of such mediæval entries as ‘Ralph le Lundreys,’ or ‘William Londonissh,’ either of whom we should now term ‘Londoner,’ one who had come from the metropolis and settled somewhere in the country. Chaucer in one of his prose works spells it ‘Londenoys,’ which is somewhat nearer the modern form. ‘London,’ once simple ‘de London,’ needs no remark.

A passing from one part of the British Empire to another has been a prolific source of nomenclature. Thus we find such names as ‘Henry de Irlaund,’ ‘Adam de Irland,’ ‘John le Irreys,’ or ‘Thomas le Ireis,’ in the ordinary dress of ‘Ireland’ and ‘Irish,’ to be by no means obsolete in the present day. ‘Roger le Escot’ or ‘Maurice le Scot’ represents, I need scarcely say, a surname that is all but interminable, the Caledonian having ever been celebrated for his roving as well as canny propensities. It is to our brethren over the Border, too, we owe the more special form of ‘Inglis,’ known better in the south as ‘English.’ The Hundred Rolls furnish us with such names as ‘Walter le Engleis,’ or ‘Robert le Engleys,’ or ‘Walter Ingeleys.’ Laurence Minot has the modern form. Describing Edward III.’s entrance into Brabant, he says—

The Inglis men were armed wéle,

Both in yren and in stele.

The representatives of our native-born Welshmen are well-nigh as numerous as those across the Scottish line, and the early spellings we light upon are equally varied—‘le Galeys,’[133] ‘le Waleys,’ ‘le Waleis,’ and ‘le Walsshe’ being, however, the commonest. The last is used by Piers Plowman, who speaks of

Rose the Disheress,
Godfrey of Garlekhithe,
And Gryfin the Walshe.

In these, of course, we at once discern the progenitors of our ‘Welshs’ and ‘Wallaces.’ ‘Walshman’ is also found as ‘Walseman.’ ‘Langlois’ seems to be firmly established in our present midst as an importation from France. It was evidently returned to us all but contemporaneously with its rise there, for as ‘L’Angleys’ or ‘Lengleyse,’ it is found on English soil in the thirteenth century. It is quite possible that our ‘Langleys’ are in some instances but a corruption of this name. Thus the different quarters of the British Empire are well personified so far as our directories are concerned.

We have not quite done with the home country, however. Our modern ‘Norris’s’ are of a somewhat comprehensive nature. In the first place there can be little doubt they have become confounded by lapse of time with the once not unfamiliar ‘la Noryce,’ or nurse. Apart from this, too, the term ‘le Noreys’ was ever applied in early times to the Norwegians, and to this sense mainly it is that we owe the rise of the name. And yet it has another origin. It was used in the mere sense of ‘northern,’ one from the North-country. Thus in the Hundred Rolls we meet with the two names of ‘Thomas le Noreys’ and ‘Geoffrey le Northern,’ and there is no reason why these should not both have had the same rise. A proof in favour of this view lies in the fact that we have their counterparts in such entries as ‘Thomas le Surreys’ and ‘Thomas le Southern,’ the latter now found in the other forms of ‘Sothern’ and ‘Sotheran.’ Nor are the other points of the compass wanting. A ‘Richard le Westrys’ and a ‘Richard le Estrys’ both occur in the registers of the thirteenth century, but neither, I believe, now exists. ‘North’ found as ‘de North’ needs no explanation, and the same can be said for our ‘Souths,’ ‘Easts,’ and ‘Wests.’

The distance from Dover to Calais is not great; but were it otherwise, we should still feel bound in our notice of names of foreign introduction first of all to mention Normandy. For not merely has this country supplied us with many of our best family names, but it enjoys the distinction of having been the first to establish an hereditary surname. This it did in the case of the barons and their feudary settlements. The close of the eleventh century we may safely say saw as yet but one class of sobriquets, which, together with their other property, fathers were in the habit of handing down to their sons. This class was local, and was attached only to those followers of the Conqueror who had been presented by their leader with landed estates in the country they had but recently subdued. As a rule each of these feudatories took as his surname the place whence he had set forth in his Norman home. Thus arose so many of our sobriquets of which ‘Burke’s Peerage’ is the best directory, and of which therefore I have little to say here. Thus arose the ‘de Mortimers’ (the prefix was retained for many generations by all), the ‘de Colevilles,’ the ‘de Corbets,’ the ‘de Ferrers,’ the ‘de Beauchamps,’ the ‘de Courcys,’ the ‘de Lucys,’ and the ‘de Granvilles.’ Thus have sprung our ‘Harcourts,’ our Tankervilles,’ our ‘Nevilles,’ our ‘Bovilles,’ our Baskervilles,’ our ‘Lascelles,’ our ‘Beaumonts,’ our ‘Villiers,’ our ‘Mohuns,’ and our ‘Percys.’ Apropos of Granville, a story is told of a former Lord Lyttelton contesting with the head of that stock priority of family, and clenching his argument by asserting his to be necessarily the most ancient, inasmuch as the littletown must have existed before the grand-ville. A similar dispute is said to have occurred at Venice between the families ‘Ponti’ and ‘Canali’—the one asserting that the ‘Bridges’ were above the ‘Canals,’ the other that the ‘Canals’ were in existence before the ‘Bridges.’ So hot waxed the quarrel that the Senate was compelled to remind the disputants that it had power alike to stop up Canals and pull down Bridges if they became over troublesome. But to return: the number of these Norman names was great. The muster-roll of William’s army comprised but an item of the foreign incomers. As the tide of after-immigration set in, there was no town, however insignificant, in Normandy, or in the Duchies of Anjou and Maine, which was not soon represented in the nomenclature of the land. From giving even a partial list of these I must refrain, however tempted, but see what the chapelries alone did for us. St. Denys gave us our ‘Sidneys,’ St. Clair, or Clare, our ‘Sinclairs,’ vilely corrupted at times into ‘Sinkler;’ St. Paul, our ‘Semples,’ ‘Samples,’ ‘Sempills,’ ‘Simpoles,’ and sometimes ‘Simples;’ St. Lowe, or Loe, our ‘Sallows;’ St. Amand, our ‘Sandemans’ and ‘Samands;’ St. Lis, our ‘Senlis’ and ‘Senleys;’ St. Saviour, our ‘Sissivers;’ St. Maur, our ‘Seymours;’ St. Barbe, our ‘Symbarbes;’ St. Hillary, our ‘Sillerys;’ St. Pierre, our ‘Sempers’ and ‘Simpers;’ St. Austin, our ‘Sustins;’ St. Omer, our ‘Somers;’ St. Leger, our ‘Sellingers,’ once more literally enrolled as ‘Steleger,’ and so on with our less corrupted ‘St. Johns,’ ‘St. Georges,’ and others. I do not say, however, that all these were later comers. Some of them must undoubtedly be set among the earlier comrades in arms of the Conqueror. Indeed it is impossible in every case to separate the warlike from the peaceful invasion. Looking back from this distant period, and with but scanty and imperfect memorials for guidance, it cannot but be so.

With respect to another class of these Norman names, however, we are more certain. Their very formation seems to imply beyond a doubt that they had a settlement as surnames in their own arrondissements before their arrival on English soil. We may, therefore, with tolerable certainty set them down as later comers. The distinguishing marks of these are the prefixes ‘de la,’ or ‘del,’ or ‘du’ attached to them. Thus from some local peculiarity with respect to their early homes would arise such names as ‘Delamere,’ ‘Dupont,’ ‘Delisle,’ ‘Delarue,’ ‘Dubois,’ ‘Ducatel,’ ‘Defontaine,’ ‘Decroix,’ or ‘Deville’ or ‘Deyville.’ This latter is now found also in the somewhat unpleasant form of ‘Devil.’ They say the devil is the source of every evil. Whether this extends beyond the moral world may be open to doubt, but our ‘Evils,’ ‘Evills,’ and ‘Eyvilles,’ from the fact of their once being written with the prefix ‘de,’ seem to favour the suspicion of there being a somewhat dangerous relationship between them.[134] These names, though commonly met with in mediæval records, are, nevertheless, I say, not to be put down as coeval with the Conquest, but as after-introductions when England was securely won. There befell Norman names of this class, however, what I have shown still more commonly to have befallen those of a similar, but more Saxon, category. If these prefixes ‘de la,’ ‘del,’ and ‘du’ are sometimes found retained, they are as often conspicuous by their absence. Thus while at an early date after the Conquest we find the Saxon ‘Atwood’ met by the Norman ‘Dubois,’ it is equally true that they had already to battle with simple ‘Wood’ and ‘Boys’ or ‘Boyce.’ Thus it was we find so early the Saxon ‘Beech’ faced by the Norman ‘Fail’ or ‘Fayle,’ ‘Ash’ by ‘Freen,’ ‘Frean,’ or ‘Freyne,’ ‘Hasell’ by ‘Coudray,’ ‘Alder’ by ‘Aunay,’ and, let us say, for want of a ‘Walnut,’ ‘Nut’ by ‘Noyes.’ In the same way our ‘Halls’ or ‘Hales’ were matched by ‘Meynell’ (mesnil), ‘Hill’ by ‘Montaigne,’ now also ‘Mountain,’ ‘Mead’ or ‘Medd,’ or ‘Field,’ by ‘Prall’ or ‘Prail,’ relics of the old ‘prayell,’ a little meadow. I have just set ‘Wood’ by our ‘Boys’ and ‘Boyces.’ To these we must add our ‘Busks,’ ‘Bushes,’ ‘Busses,’ all from ‘bois’ or ‘bosc.’ The ‘taillis,’ or underwood, too, gives us ‘Tallis,’ and the union of both in ‘Taillebois’ or ‘Talboys,’ as we now have it, combines the names of two of our best church musicians—‘Tallis’ and ‘Boyce.’ This comparison of early introduced Norman with names of a Saxon local character we might carry on to any extent, but this must suffice—illustrations and not categories are all we can pretend to attempt.

But these were not our only foreign introduced names. Coeval with the arrival of these later Norman designations a remarkable peculiarity began to make itself apparent in the vast number of names that poured in from various and more distant parts of the Continent. That they came for purposes of trade, and to settle down into positions that the Saxons themselves should have occupied, is undoubted. The lethargy of the Saxon population at this period would be extraordinary, if it were not so easily to be accounted for. There was no heart in the nation. The Saxons had become a conquered people, and, although the spirit of Hereward the Wake was quenched, there had come that settled sullen humour which, finding no outlet for active enmity, fed in spirit upon itself, and increased with the pampering. To punish open disaffection is easy; to eradicate by the stern arm of power such a feeling as this is impossible. Time alone can do it, and that but slowly. More than a century after this we find Robin Hood the idol of popular sympathy; no national hero has ever eclipsed him, and yet, putting sentiment aside, he was naught but a robber, an outlawed knave. He was but a vent for the still lingering current of a people’s feelings. It was but the Saxon and Norman over again.

We can easily imagine, then, if the spirit of the people was so lethargic as this, at how low an ebb would be the commercial enterprise of this period. No country was there whose resources for self-aggrandisement were greater than our own—none which had more disregarded them up to the reign of the third Edward. Till then she was the mere mine from which other countries might draw forth riches, the carcase for the eagles of many nations to feed upon. Saving the exportation of wool in its raw unmanufactured state, she did nothing for her national prosperity. The Dutch cured the fish they themselves caught on our coasts, and the looms of Flanders and Brabant manufactured the weft and warp we sent them into the cloth we wore. If our kings and barons were clad in scarlet and purple, little had England actively to do with that; her share in such superior tints was nought, save the production of the dye, for in conjunction with the Eastern indigo it was our woad the Netherlands used. That other nations were advancing, and that ours was not, is a statement, commercially speaking, I need not enlarge upon; it is a mere matter of history which no one disputes.

Not, however, that there was no trade. Far from it. Long before Edward III. had established a surer basis of order and industry, London had become a mart of no small Continental importance. This outlying city, as with other towns of growing industry abroad, had come under the beneficial influence of the Crusades. So far as the redemption of the Holy City was concerned, that strong, but noble madness which had set Christendom ablaze was a failure. But it effected much in another way. From the first moment when on the waters of the Levant were assembled a host as diverse in nation as they were one in purpose; when in their high-decked galleons and oar-banked pinnances men met each other face to face of whose national existence they had been previously all but unaware—one result, at least, was sure to follow—an intercommunion of nations was inevitable, and, in the wake of this, other and not less beneficial consequences. Healthy comparisons were drawn, jealousies were allayed, navigation was improved, better ships were built, harbours hitherto avoided as dangerous were rendered safe, and new havens were discovered. This influence was felt everywhere. It reached so far as England—London felt it.

But it was a minor influence—minor in comparison with our wonderful appliances—minor in comparison with the commercial spirit developing such Republics as Genoa and Venice, or the Easterling countries that border the Baltic and German Seas—a minor influence, too, especially because the Saxons had so little share in it. So far as they were concerned, this internationality was all one-sided. Denizens of all lands visited our shores, but their visits were unreturned. What an infinitesimal part of our Continental surnames in the present day are traceable to English sources. On the other hand, there was no town however small, no hamlet however insignificant, in Normandy, in the Duchies of Anjou and Maine, or protected by the cities of the Hanseatic League, that is unrepresented in the nomenclature of our land. Nay, it was this very lack of reciprocity of commerce that held out such inducements to the dwellers in other lands to visit our shores. It was to step into possession of those very advantages we slighted they came: we became but a colony of foreign artisans. Truly our metropolis in those early days of her industry was a motley community. Numerous names of foreign locality have died out in the lapse of centuries between; a large proportion have become so Anglicized that we cannot detect their Continental birth, but there is still a formidable array left in our midst whose lineage is manifest, and whose nationality is not to be doubted. We dare not enumerate them all. Let us, however, take a short tour over Europe and the East. We will begin with Normandy, and advance westerly, and then southerly. The provinces that border upon Normandy and Bretagne, especially to the south and eastwards, large or small, have, as we should expect, supplied us with many names. We have besides ‘Norman,’ which, like ‘le Northern,’ is of doubtful locality, ‘Bret,’ ‘Brett,’ ‘Britt,’ ‘Britten,’ ‘Briton,’ and ‘Brittain,’ from ‘Bretagne,’ and represented in our olden rolls by such men as ‘Hamo le Bret,’ or ‘Roger le Breton,’ or ‘Thomas le Brit,’ or ‘Ivo le Briton.’ Our ‘Angers’ are not necessarily so irascible as they look, for they are but corruptions, as are ‘Angwin’ and ‘Aungier,’ of the ‘Angevine of Anjou.’ Like our ‘Maines’ and ‘Maynes’ from the neighbouring duchy, they would be likely visitors to our shores from the intimate relationship which for a while endured between the two countries through royal alliances. Our ‘Arters’ and ‘Artis,’ once registered ‘de Artoys,’ came from ‘Artois;’ our ‘Gaskins,’ and more correct ‘Gascoignes,’ from ‘Gascony;’ and our ‘Burgons’ and ‘Burgoynes’ from Burgundy.[135] To Champagne it is we are indebted for our ‘Champneys’ and ‘Champness’s,’ descendants as they are from such old incomers as ‘Robert le Champeneis,’ or ‘Roger le Chaumpeneys,’ while the more strictly local form appears in our ‘Champagnes,’ not to say some of our ‘Champions’ and ‘Campions.’[136] Speaking of Champagne, it is curious that next in topographical order come our ‘Port-wines,’ sprung from the Poictevine of Poictou. So early as the thirteenth century, this name had become corrupted into ‘Potewyne,’ a ‘Pretiosa Potewyne’ occurring in the Hundred Rolls of that period. More correct representatives are found in such entries as ‘Henry le Poytevin,’ and ‘Peter le Pettevin.’ Pickardy has given us our ‘Pickards’ and ‘Pycards,’ Provence our ‘Provinces,’ and Lorraine our ‘Loraynes,’ ‘Lorraines,’ and ‘Lorings.’ ‘Peter le Loring’ and ‘John le Loring’ are instances of the latter form. More general terms for the countrymen of these various provinces are found in such registered names as ‘Gilbert le Fraunceis,’ or ‘Henry le Franceis,’ or ‘Peter le Frensh,’ or ‘Gyllaume Freynsman.’

I have mentioned ‘Norman’—one of the commonest of early sobriquets is ‘le Bigod’ and ‘le Bigot.’ Well-nigh every record has its ‘Roger le Bygod,’ or its ‘William le Bygot,’ or ‘Hugh le Bigot,’ or ‘Alina le Bigod.’ Amid the varying opinions of so many high authorities, I dare not speak in anywise with confidence; but, judging from these very entries which are found at an early period, I cannot but think Dean Trench and Mr. Wedgwood wrong in their conjecture that the word arose from the ‘beguines’—i.e. the Franciscans. With Mr. Taylor[137] I am firmly convinced it is ethnic, and that as such it was familiarly applied to the Normans I am equally satisfied. In proof of its national character, Mr. Taylor quotes a passage from the romance of Gerard of Roussillon—

Bigot, e Provençal e Rouergues,

E Bascle, e Gasco, e Bordales.

The popular story ascribes its origin to the fondness for oaths so peculiar to the Anglo-Norman character, and in this particular instance to the exclamation ‘by-God.’[138] My own impression is that the origin of the word has yet to be found. With regard to surnames, however, I may say that we have at this day ‘Bigots’ in our directories as well as in everything else, and it is highly probable that our Bagots are but a corruption of the same.

Turning westward, such names as ‘Michael de Spaigne,’ or ‘Arnold de Espaigne,’ tell us at once who were the forefathers of our ‘Spains’ and ‘Espins;’[139] while ‘John le Moor’ suggests to us at least the possibility that English heathlands did not enjoy the entire monopoly in the production of this familiar cognomen. The intensive ‘Blackamoor,’ a mere compound of ‘black’ and ‘moor,’ seems to have early existed. A ‘Beatrice Blackamour’ and a ‘William Blackamore’ occur in a London Register of 1417—(Riley’s ‘London,’ p. 647). Nor is Italy void of examples. The sturdy old republic of Genoa has supplied us with ‘Janeway’ and ‘Jannaway,’[140] ‘Genese’ and ‘Jayne’ or ‘Jeane.’ Chaucer alludes to the Genoese coin the ‘jane.’ An old poem, too, speaking of Brabant as a general mart, says—

Englysshe and Frensh, Lumbardes, Januayes,

Cathalones, theder they take their wayes.

The ‘Libel on English Policy’ has the word in a similar dress.

The Janueys comyne in sondre wyses,
Into this londe wyth dyverse merchaundysses,
In grete karrekes arrayde withouten lack,

Wyth clothes of golde, silke, and pepir black.

Hall, in his Chronicles, speaking of the Duke of Clarence ravaging the French coast in Henry IV.’s reign, says, ‘in his retournyng he encountred with two greate Carickes of Jeane laden with ryche marchandise.’ (f. xxiv.)

Its old rival upon the Adriatic still vies with it in ‘Veness,’ once enrolled as ‘de Venise.’ Rome has given us our early ‘Reginald le Romayns’ and ‘John le Romayns,’ whose descendants now write their names in the all but unaltered form of ‘Romaine,’[141] and to Lombardy and the Jews we owe Lombard street, and our ‘Lombards,’ ‘Lumbards,’ ‘Lubbards,’ and perhaps ‘Lubbers’—not to mention our ‘Luckes,’ and ‘Luckies,’ a progenitor of whom I find inscribed in the Hundred Rolls as ‘Luke of Lucca.’ Advancing eastwards, a ‘Martin le Hunne’ looks strangely as if sprung from a Hungarian source. Whatever doubt, however, there may be on this point, there can be none on ‘William le Turc,’[142] whose name is no solitary one in the records of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, and whose descendants are by no means extinct in the nineteenth. ‘Peter le Russe’ would seem at first sight to be of Russian origin, especially with such a Christian name to the fore as the one above, but it is far more probably one more form of the endless corruptions of ‘le Rous,’ a sobriquet of complexion so extremely familiar to all who have spent any time over mediæval registers. I have already mentioned ‘le Norrys’ as connected with our ‘Norris.’ ‘Dennis,’ I doubt not, in some cases, is equally representative of the former ‘le Daneys.’ Entries like ‘William le Norris,’ or ‘Walter le Norreis,’ or ‘Roger le Daneis,’ or ‘Joel le Deneys,’ are of constant occurrence. These, added to the others, may be mentioned as bringing before our eyes the broadest limits of European immigration, and with scarcely an exception they are found among the English surnames of to-day.

But we must not forget the Dutch—a term that once embraced all the German race.[143] ‘Dutchman,’ though I have found no instance in early rolls, is, I see, a denizen of our present directories, while ‘Dutchwomen,’ found in the fourteenth century, is extinct. Our ‘Pruces’ are but the old ‘le Pruce,’ or Prussian, as we should now term them. The word is met with in an old political song, and, as it contains a list of articles, the introduction of which into England from Flanders made the two countries so closely connected, I will quote it fully:—

Now beer and bacon bene fro Pruse i-brought
Into fflaunders, as loved and fere i-soughte;
Osmonde, coppre, bowstaffes, stile and wex,

Peltre-ware, and grey, pych, tar, borde, and flex,

And Coleyne threde, fustiane, and canvase,

Corde, bokeram, of old tyme thus it wase.

But the fflemmynges among these things dere,

Incomen loven beste bacon and beer.

‘Fleming,’ as our registers prove, was seemingly the popular term for all the Low Countrymen, bands of whom were specially invited over by two of our kings to spread their industry in our own land. Numbers of them came in, however, as simple wool-merchants, to transmit the raw material into Holland. As the old ‘Libel on English Policy’ says—

But ye Fleminges, if ye be not wrothe,

The grete substance of your cloth, at the fulle,

Ye wot ye made it of youre English wolle.

But Flanders was not the only division represented. Our ‘Brabazons’ once written ‘le Brabançon,’ together with our ‘Brabants,’ ‘Brabaners,’ and ‘Brabans,’ issued, of course, from the duchy of that name; while our ‘Hanways’[144] and ‘Hannants’ hailed from Hainault, the latter of the two representing the usual early English pronunciation of the place-word. The old enrolled forms are ‘de Hanoia’ and ‘de Henau.’ It is very likely, therefore, that our ‘Hannahs’ are similarly derived. The poem I have just quoted, after mentioning the products of ‘Braban,’ ‘Selaunde,’ and ‘Henaulde,’ proceeds to say:—

But they of Holonde at Caleyse buy our felles

And our wolles, that Englyshe men then selles.

This, and such an entry as ‘Thurstan de Holland,’ give us at once a clue, if clue were needed, to the source whence have issued our ‘Hollands.’ Holandman,’ which once existed, is, I believe, now extinct. A common sobriquet for those enterprising traders who visited us from the shores of the Baltic was ‘Easterling,’ and it is to their honest integrity as merchants we owe the fact of their name in the form of ‘Sterling’ being so familiar. In contrast to the country-made money, their coin obtained the name of ‘Easterling,’ or, as we now term it, ‘Sterling’ money—so many pounds sterling being the ordinary phrase for good and true coin. We have even come to apply the term generally in such phrases as sterling worth, sterling honesty, or sterling character. The more inland traders were styled ‘Almaines,’ or merchants ‘d’Almaine,’[145] terms common enough in our earlier archives, as ‘le Aleman,’ or ‘de Almania,’ or ‘le Alemaund,’ and thus have sprung our ‘Alemans,’ ‘Almaines,’ and ‘Allmans,’ and through the French, probably, our ‘Lallimands,’ ‘D’Almaines,’ ‘Dalmaines,’ and more perverted ‘Dalmans’ and ‘Dollmans.’[146] Thus to these enterprising and honest traders we owe a surname which from the odious forms it has assumed shows that their names, at least, were corruptible, if not their credit. I ought to have mentioned, though I have no record to quote in proof of my assertion, that our ‘Hansards’ are, I have no doubt, descendants of such Hanse merchants in our country as were members of the Hanseatic League. The founder of the Hansards, the publishers of the Parliamentary Debates, came from Norwich in the middle of the last century, and I need scarcely say that the city was the chief headquarters of the Flemish weaving interest at the date we are considering.

Leaving Europe for a moment, a name of peculiar interest is that of ‘Sarson,’[147] or ‘Sarasin,’ a sobriquet undoubtedly sprung from the Crusades in the East, and found contemporaneously, or immediately afterwards, in England as ‘Sarrasin,’ ‘Sarrazein,’ ‘Sarracen,’ and in the Latinized form of ‘Sarracenus.’ The maternal grandfather of Thomas à Becket was a pure-blooded Saracen, settled in England. The ‘Saracen’s Head,’ I need not remind the reader, has been a popular inn sign in our land from the days of Cœur de Lion and Godfrey. It would seem as if they were sufficient objects of public curiosity to be exhibited. In the ‘Issues of the Exchequer’ of Henry VI.’s reign is the following:—‘To a certain Dutchman, bringing with him a Saracen to the Kingdom of England, in money paid him in part payment of five marks which the Lord the King commanded to be paid him, to have of his gift.’ Speaking of the Saracens, however, we are led to say a word or two about the Jews, the greatest money-makers, the greatest merchants, the greatest people, in a commercial point of view at least, the world has known. No amount of obloquy, no extent of cruel odium and persecution, could break the spirit of the old Israelitish trader. Driven out of one city, he fled to another. Rifled of his savings in one land, he soon found an asylum in another, till a fresh revolution there also caused either the king or the people to vent their passions and refill their coffers at the expense of the despised Jew. ‘Jury’ would seem to be a corrupted surname taken from the land which our Bible has made so familiar to us. It certainly is derived from this term, but not the Jewry of Palestine. It was that part of any large town which in the Early and Middle Ages was set apart for these people, districts where, if they chose to face contumely and despite, they could live and worship together. Every considerable town in England and the Continent had its Jewish quarters. London with its ‘Jewry’ is no exceptional case. Winchester, York, Norwich, all our early centres of commerce, had the same. Johan Kaye, in his account of the siege of Rhodes, says: ‘All the strete called the Jure by the walles was full of their blood and caren (carrion).’ Our ‘Jurys’[148] are not, however, necessarily Jews, as it is but a local name from residence in such quarters, and doubtless at one time or another during the period of surname establishment Christians may have had habitation there. ‘Jew,’ on the other hand, as representing such former entries as ‘Roger le Jew’ or ‘Mirabilla Judæus,’ is undoubtedly of purely Israelitish descent. But these are not all. Our early records teem with such names as ‘Roger le Convers,’ or ‘Stephen le Convers,’[149] deserters from the Jewish faith. We cannot be surprised at many of the less steady adherents of the ancient creed changing their religious status, when we reflect upon the cruel impositions made upon them at various times.[150] I suspect our ‘Conyers’ have swallowed up the representatives of this name. Even in the day of its rise we find it set down in one record as ‘Nicholas le Conners.’

So much for general and national names. To pretend to give any category of the town-names that have issued from these wide-spread localities were, of course, impossible. Such sobriquets as ‘Argent,’ from Argentan; ‘Charters’ and ‘Charteris’ from Chartres; ‘Bullen,’ ‘Bollen,’ or ‘Boleyn’ from Boulogne,[151] with ‘Bulness’ as representative of ‘le Boloneis;’ ‘Landels’ from Landelles; ‘Death’ or ‘D’Aeth’ from Aeth in Flanders; ‘Twopenny’ from Tupigny in the same province; ‘Gant’ and ‘Gent’ from Ghent, once ‘de Gaunt;’ ‘Legge’ from Liege (in some cases at least); ‘Lubbock,’ once written ‘de Lubyck’ and ‘de Lubek,’ from Lubeck in Saxony; ‘Geneve,’ once ‘de Geneve,’ and ‘Antioch,’ once ‘de Antiochia,’ are but instances taken haphazard from a list, which to extend would occupy all my remaining space. Many of these are connected with particular trades, or branches of trades, for which in their day they had obtained a European celebrity. If the peculiar manufactures of such places at home as ‘Kendall’ and ‘Lindsey’ and ‘Wolsey’ have left in our own nomenclature the marks of their early renown, we should also expect such foreign cities as were more especially united to us by the ties of industry to leave a mark thereof upon our registers. Such names as ‘Ralph de Arras’ or ‘Robert de Arraz,’ a sobriquet not yet extinct in our midst, carry us to Arras in Artois, celebrated for its tapestried hangings.[152] Rennes in Brittany has given birth to our ‘Raines’ and ‘Rains.’[153] Chaucer talks of pillows made of ‘cloth of raines.’ Elsewhere, too, he makes mention of ‘hornpipes of Cornewaile,’ reminding us that in all probability some of our ‘Cornwalls’ hail from Cornouaile in the same province. Romanee in Burgundy, celebrated for its wine, has left a memory of that fact in our ‘Rumneys’ and ‘Rummeys.’ Some of my readers will remember that in the ‘Squyr of low degree’ the king, amongst other pleasures by which to soothe away his daughter’s melancholy, promises her,

Ye shall have Rumney.

Our ‘Challens’ are but lingering memorials of the now decayed woollen manufactures of Chalons, of which we shall have more to say anon; and not to mention others, our ‘Roans’ (always so spelt and pronounced in olden times), our ‘Anvers,’ once ‘de Anvers,’ our ‘Cullings,’ ‘Cullens,’[154] ‘Collinges,’ and ‘Lyons,’ are but relics of former trades for which the several towns of Rouen, and Antwerp, and Cologne, and Lyons, were notorious. The rights of citizenship and all other advantages seem early to have been accorded them. In the thirteenth century we find Robert of Catalonia and Walter Turk acting as sheriffs, and much about the same time a ‘Pycard’ was Mayor of London.

I must stop here. We have surveyed, comparatively speaking, but a few of our local surnames. From the little I have been able to advance, however, it will be clear, I think, that with regard to the general subject of nomenclature these additional sobriquets had become a necessity. The population of England, less than two millions at the period of the Conquest, was rapidly increasing, and, which is of far more importance so far as surnames are concerned, increasing corporately. Population was becoming every day less evenly diffused. Communities were fast being formed, and as circumstances but more and more induced men to herd themselves together, so did the necessity spring up for each to have a more fixed and determinate title than his merely personal or baptismal one, by which he might be more currently known among his fellows.

CHAPTER III.

SURNAMES OF OFFICE.

A class of surnames which occupies no mean place in our lists is that which has been bequeathed to us by the dignitaries and officers of mediæval times. Of these sobriquets, while some hold but a precarious existence, a goodly number are firmly established in our midst. On the other hand, as with each other class of our surnames, many that once figured in every register of the period are now extinct. Of these latter not a few have lapsed through the decay of the very systems which brought them into being. While the feudal constitution remained encircled as it was with a complete scheme of service, while the ecclesiastic system of Church government reigned supreme and without a rival, there were numberless offices which in after days fell into desuetude with the principle that held them together. Still, in the great majority of cases the names of these have remained to remind us of their former heyday glory, and to give us an insight into the reality of those now decayed customs to which they owed their rise.

We must be careful, however, at the outset to remark that a certain number of these names ought, strictly speaking, to be set down in our chapter upon sobriquets. They are either vestiges of the many outdoor pageantries and mock ceremonies so popular in that day, or of the numberless nicknames our forefathers loved to affix one upon the other, and in which practice all, high and low alike, joined. For instance, no one could suspect such a sobriquet as ‘Alan le Pope,’ or ‘Hugh le Pape,’ the source of one of our commonest and most familiar names, to be derived from the possessor of that loftiest of ecclesiastic offices.[155] It could be but a nickname, and was doubtless given to some unlucky individual whose overweening and pretentious bearing had brought upon him the affix. So, again, would it be with such a title as ‘Robert le Keser,’ that is, Cæsar, corresponding to the French ‘L’empriere’ and the obsolete Norman ‘le Emperer.’ This is a word of frequent occurrence in our earlier poets. Langland says of our Lord, there was

No man so worthie
To be kaiser or king
Of the kyngdom of Juda.

Again, he finely says—

Death cam dryvynge after,
And al to duste passed
Kynges and knyghtes,
Kaysers and popes,
Lered and lewed.[156]

This surname, too, is now all but equally common with the other, being met with in the several shapes of ‘Cæsar,’ ‘Cayser,’ ‘Cayzer,’ ‘Kaiser,’ and ‘Keyser.’[157] The name of ‘Julius Cæsar,’ as that of one of our most esteemed professional cricketers, has only just disappeared from the annals of that noble game. The posterity of such enrolled burgesses as ‘William le Kyng’ or ‘Thomas le Kyng’ still flourish and abound in our midst. An imperious temperament would thus readily meet with good-humoured censure. ‘Matilda le Quen’ or ‘Simon Quene’ has not quite failed of issue; but had it been otherwise, it could not have been matter for any astonishment, as the sobriquet was doubtless anything but a complimentary affix. We must remember that, somewhat curiously, the old ‘quen,’ or, as the Scotch still term it, ‘quean,’ at once represents the highest rank to which a woman can reach and the lowest depth to which she can fall. So would it be once more with our endless ‘Princes,’ and ‘Comtes’ or ‘Counts,’ ‘Viscuntes,’ the heads of provincial government.[158] There is no reason, however, why our ‘Dukes,’ ‘Dooks,’ or ‘Ducs,’ as they are more generally found in our rolls (‘Roger le Duc,’ E., ‘Adam le Duk.’ M.),[159] should not be what they represent, or rather then represented. A ‘duke’ was of course anything but what we now understand by the term, being then, as it more literally signifies, a leader, or chieftain, or head. It is thus used in Scripture. Langland, to quote him again, says of Justice—

A-drad was he nevere

Neither of duc ne of deeth.

Elsewhere, too, he describes ‘Rex Gloriæ’ as addressing Lucifer upon the brink of Hades, and saying—

Dukes of this dymme place,
Anoon undo these yates,
That Crist may come in,
The kynges sone of hevene.

It is in this same category we must set, I doubt not, such old registrations as ‘Robert le Baron’ or ‘Walter le Baron,’ ‘John le Lorde’ or ‘Walter le Loverd,’ and ‘Walter le Theyn’ or ‘Nicholas le Then,’ names now found as ‘Baron,’ ‘Lord,’ and ‘Thain,’ ‘Thaine,’ or ‘Thane.’[160] Even in the case of names of a more ecclesiastic character, we shall have to apply the same remark. We have still in our midst descendants of the ‘le Cardinals’ and ‘le Bishops’ of the thirteenth century, and there can be little doubt that these were, in the majority of cases, but nicknames given to particular individuals by way of ridiculing certain characteristics which seemed to tend in the direction the name suggested.

As I have already hinted, however, there is another and equally probable origin for many of the names I have mentioned. Pageantries and mock ceremonies were at this time at the very height of their popularity. The Romish Church fed this desire. Thus, for instance, take Epiphany. In well-nigh every parish the visit of the Magi, always accounted to have been royal personages, was regularly celebrated. Though the manner varied in different places, the custom was more or less the same. There was a great feast, and one of the company was always elected king, the rest being, according to the lots they drew, either ministers of state or maids of honour. Thus Herrick says—

For sports, for pageantrie, and playes,
Thou hast thy eves and holidayes:
Thy wakes, thy quintels, here thou hast,
Thy Maypoles, too, with garlandes graced:
Thy mummeries, thy twelfe-tide kings
And queens, thy Christmas revellings.[161]

I need scarcely say that as popular nicknames these titles would be sure to cling to the persons upon whom they had fallen, and that they should even pass on to their descendants is no more unnatural than in the case of a hundred other sobriquets we shall have occasion to recount.

Of the rest, however, and, as I have said, maybe in some of the cases I have mentioned, the surname was but truly indicative of the office or dignity held. The Saxon has suffered here. And yet to some this may seem somewhat strange when we remember how little change really took place in the institutions of the Kingdom by the Conquest. The Normans and Saxons, after all, were but propagations from the same original stock, and however distant the period of their separation, however affected by difference of clime and association, still their customs bore a sufficient affinity to make coalescence by no means a difficult task. William was not given to great changes. He was vindictive, but not destructive. His most cruel acts were retributive, done by way of reprisal after sudden disaffection. If a conqueror must establish his power, deeds of this kind are inevitable. And even these are exaggerated. The story of the depopulation of the New Forest, it is now pretty generally agreed, is impossible—its present condition forbids of any such act to have been practicable—and the notion frequently conveyed in our smaller books of English history, that the curfew was a badge and token of servitude, is simply absurd, the fact being that the same custom prevailed over the whole of Western Europe, as a mere precaution against fire at a time when our towns were mainly constructed of wood. A crushed people will always misinterpret such ordinances. Prejudice of this kind is perfectly pardonable. William then, I say, was not inclined to uproot Saxon institutions. The national council still remained. The ancient tribunals with their various motes, the whole system of law which guided the administration of justice, all was well-nigh as it had been heretofore. But the language which was the medium of all this was generally changed. The old laws were indeed used, but in a translated form—old officerships still existed, but in a new dialect—the old policy was mainly upheld, but new terms of police were introduced. It was not till Edward III.’s reign that pleadings in the various courts were again carried on in the English tongue—it was not till Henry VI.’s reign the proceedings in Parliament were recorded in the people’s dialect—not till Richard III.’s day its statutes and ordinances ceased to be indited in Norman-French. This at once shows the difficulty of any officership, however Saxon, retaining its original title. The office was maintained, but the name was changed. This was the more certain to ensue, so far as the Church was concerned, from the fact that for a considerable period all ecclesiastic vacancies were filled up from abroad. Bishops and abbots were removed on pretexts of one sort or another, and their places supplied from the Conqueror’s chaplains. The monasteries were hived with Normans; the clergy generally were of foreign descent. It was the same, or nearly the same, with regard to civil government. The lesser courts of judicature were ruled by foreigners and the foreign tongue. The Barons, as they retired into the provinces and to the estates allotted them, naturally bore with them a Norman retinue. All their surroundings became quickly the same. Thus the French language was used not merely in their common conversation—that of course—but so far as their power, undoubtedly large, existed, in the provincial courts also.

Such entries as ‘Thomas le Shirreve’ and ‘Lena le Shireve’ remind us not merely of our present existing ‘Sheriffs,’ ‘Sherrifs,’ and ‘Shreeves,’ but how firmly this Saxon word has maintained its hold through the many fluctuations of English government. The Norman ‘Judge,’ though it is firmly established in our courts of law, has not made any very great impress upon our nomenclature. ‘Justice,’ a relic of ‘William’ or ‘Eva le Justice,’[162] is more commonly met with. Our ‘Corners,’ when not descendants of the local ‘de la Corners’ of the thirteenth century, are but corruptions of many a ‘John le Coroner’ or ‘Henry le Corouner’ of the same period. It is even found in the abbreviated form of ‘Corner,’ in ‘John le Corner’ and ‘Walter le Cornur.’ Thus we see that so early as this our forefathers discerned in the death of a subject a matter that concerned not merely the well-being of the crown, but that of which the crown as the true parent of a nation’s interests was to take cognizance. More directly opposed to the Norman ‘Judge’ and ‘Justice,’ and in the end displaced by them, were our Saxon ‘Demer’ and ‘Dempster’ (the older forms being ‘le Demere’ and ‘le Demester’), they who pronounced the doom. An old English Psalter thus translates Psalm cxlviii. 11:—

Kinges of earth, and alle folk living,

Princes and all demers of land.

An antique poem, too, has it in its other form in the following couplet:—

Ayoth was then demester

Of Israel foure score yeer.

We still employ the term ‘doom’ for judgment. Chaucer speaks familiarly of one of the Canterbury company as a ‘Serjeant of the Lawe.’ It is, in the majority of cases, to the term ‘sergeant’ as used in this capacity we owe our much-varied ‘Sargants,’ ‘Sargeants,’ ‘Sargeaunts,’ ‘Sargents,’ ‘Sergents,’ ‘Sergeants,’ ‘Sarjants,’ and ‘Sarjeants.’ The same poet says of him:—

Justice he was full often in assize,

By patent and by pleine commission.

‘Alured le Pledur,’ or ‘Henry le Pleidour,’ and ‘Peter le Escuzer,’ all obsolete as surnames, need little or no explanation. Speaking of assizes, we are reminded of our ‘Sisers’ and ‘Sizers,’ representatives of the old ‘Assizer’—he who was commissioned to hold the court. Piers Plowman frequently mentions him:—

To marien this mayde
Were many men assembled,
As of knyghts, and of clerkes,
And other commune people,
As sisours, and somenours,
Sherreves, and baillifs.

We are here reminded of ‘Hugh le Somenur,’ or ‘Henry le Sumenour,’ now spelt ‘Sumner,’ the sheriff’s messenger, he by whom the delinquent was brought up to the court. He was the modern apparitor in fact. In the ‘Coventry Mysteries’ it is said:—

Sim Somnor, in haste wend thou thi way,
Byd Joseph, and his wyff by name,
At the coorte to apper this day,
Him to purge of her defame.

A ‘Godwin Bedellus’ occurs so early as Domesday record, and as ‘Roger le Bedel,’ or ‘Martin le Bedel,’ the name is by no means rare somewhat later on. He was, whether in the forest or any other court, the servitor, he who executed processes or attended to proclamations. The modern forms of the name comprise, among others, ‘Beadell,’ ‘Beadle,’ ‘Beaddall,’ and ‘Biddle.’ Such names as ‘Richard le Gayeler’ or ‘Ada le Gaoler,’ are very commonly met with in our mediæval rolls. The term itself is of Norman origin, reminding us that, however menial the duty, the Saxon could not be entrusted with such an office as this. We cannot, however, speak of the gaoler and his confrères without referring to a curious sobriquet of this period, a sobriquet to which we owe in the present day our ‘Catchpoles’ and ‘Catchpooles.’[163] The catchpole was a kind of under-bailiff or petty sergeant who distrained for debt, or otherwise did the more unpleasant part of his superior’s work, and was so called from his habit of seizing his luckless victim by the hair, or poll, as was the familiar term then. So general was this nickname that we find it occupying an all but official place. It is Latinized in our records into ‘cachepollus,’ a word unknown to Cicero, I am afraid. In the ‘Plowman’s Vision’ we are told of the two thieves crucified with the Saviour that:—

A cachepol cam forth

And cracked both their legges.

Another name for the catchpole was that of ‘Cacherel’ or ‘Cacher,’ both of which forms occur at this same period as surnames. An old political song says, murmuringly:—

Nedes I must spend that I spared of yore

Ageyn this cacherele cometh.

This sobriquet also abides with us still.[164] ‘Le Cacher,’ I fear, has been obsolete for centuries.[165]

Of such as were accountable for duties in the public streets, we may mention first our ‘Cryers,’ registered at the time we are speaking of as ‘Philip le Criour,’ or ‘Wat le Creyer.’ He, like the still existing ‘Bellman,’[166] performed a fixed round, announcing in full and sententious tones the mandates of bench and council, whenever it was necessary to advertise to the public such news as concerned their common well-being. Our policeman may be modern in his name and in his attire, but as the guardian of the peace, by night as well as by day, he is but the descendant of a long line of servants who have in turn fulfilled this important public trust. His early title was borne by ‘Ralph le Weyte,’ or ‘Robert le Wayte,’ or ‘Hugh le Geyt,’ or ‘Robert le Gait.’ All these forms are of the commonest occurrence in our olden registries. By night he carried a trump, with which to sound the watches or give the alarm, and thus it was he acquired also the name of ‘Trumper,’ such forms as ‘Adam le Trompour’ or ‘William le Trompour’ being frequently met with at this time. To the former title of this official duty it is we owe the fact of our still terming any company of night serenaders ‘waits,’ and especially those bands of strolling minstrels who keep up the good old custom of watching in Christmas morn. A good old custom, I say, even though it may cost us a few pence and rouse us somewhat rudely, maybe, from our slumbers. ‘Wait,’ ‘Waite,’[167] ‘Wayt,’ and ‘Whaite,’ with ‘le Geyt,’ are the forms that still exist among us. ‘Trumper,’ too, has its place equally assured in our nomenclature.

Such names as we have just dwelt upon, however, remind us of other municipal authorities, higher in position than these, to whom, indeed, these were but servitors. A sobriquet like ‘Richard le Burgess’ or ‘John le Burges’ reminds us of the freemen of the borough towns, while ‘le Mayor,’ or ‘Mayer,’ or ‘Maire,’ or ‘Mair,’ or ‘Meyre,’[168] or ‘Mire,’ for all these different spellings are found, is equally suggestive of the chief magistracy of such. Piers, to quote him once more, speaks of:—

The maistres,
Meirs and Jugges,
That have the welthe of this world.

The feminine form of this sobriquet appears in the early but obsolete ‘Margaret la Miresse.’ Speaking of mayors, some lines written some years ago on the proposed elevation of a certain Alderman Wood as Lord Mayor are not without humour, nor out of place, perhaps, here:—

In choice of Mayors ’twill be confest,

Our citizens are prone to jest:

Of late a gentle ‘Flower’ they tried—

November came and checked its pride.

A ‘Hunter’ next, on palfrey grey,

Proudly pranced his year away.

The next, good order’s foes to scare,

Placed ‘Birch’ upon the civic chair.

Alas! this year, ’tis understood,

They mean to make a mayor of ‘Wood!’

As a fellow to ‘Meir’ we may cite ‘Provost,’ or ‘Prevost,’ or ‘Provis,’ a term still used of the mayoralty in Scotland. ‘Councellor’ and ‘Councilman’ are still familiar terms in our midst. ‘Clavenger,’ ‘Claver,’ and ‘Cleaver’ we will mention last as filling up a list of civic offices entirely, so far as the language is concerned, the property of the dominant power. A ‘Robert Clavynger’ occurs in the Parliamentary Rolls. Its root is ‘claviger,’ the key-bearer,’ one whose office it was at this time to protect the deposits, whether of money or parchments, belonging to the civic authorities. The more common term was that of ‘Clavier,’ such entries as ‘Henry le Claver,’ or ‘John le Clavour,’ or ‘John le Clavier,’[169] being of familiar occurrence at this time. Thus in a treaty agreed upon between the Mayor, sheriffs, and commonalty of Norwich in 1414, it was declared that ‘the mayor and twenty-four (of the council) shall choose a common clerk, a coroner, two clavers, and eight constables, and the sixty common council shall choose a common speaker, one coroner, two clavers, and eight constables.’ (‘Hist. Norf.,’ Blomefield.) In a day when there were no patent safes we can readily understand the importance of appointing men whose one care it was to guard the chests wherein were stored up the various parchments, moneys, and seals belonging to the civic council. This comprises our list of Norman civil officers. One name, and one only, of this class is Saxon, that of ‘Alderman,’ but I have found it occurring as a surname in only one or two instances, and I believe it has now become obsolete.

Turning from municipal to ecclesiastical affairs, we find the Church of mediæval times surrounded with memorials. Some of these I have already hinted at as being mere sobriquets;[170] none the less, however, do we owe them to the existing institutions. Such names as ‘Hugo le Archevesk’ or ‘William le Arceveske’ can be only thus viewed. In ‘Morte Arthure’ the hero holds festival at Caerleon,

Wyth dukez, and dusperes of dyvers rewmes,

Erles and erchevesques, and other ynowe,

Byschopes and bachelers and banerettes nobille.

While this has long vanished from our directories, the descendants of ‘John le Bissup’ or ‘Robert le Biscop’ are firmly established therein. The more Norman ‘Robert le Vecke’ and ‘Nicholas le Vesk’ still live also in our ‘Vicks’ and ‘Vecks.’ It was only the other day I saw ‘Archdeacon’ over a hatter’s shop—and that it is no corruption of some other word, we may cite the early ‘Thomas le Arcedekne’ as a proof.[171] Whether ‘Archpriest,’ a sobriquet occurring at the same date, was but another designation of the same, or performed more episcopal functions, I cannot say.[172] The name, however, is obsolete in every sense. The old vicar has bequeathed us our ‘Vicars,’ ‘Vicarys,’ and ‘Vickermans.’ Chaucer says in the ‘Persons Prologue’—

Sire preest, quod he, art thou a vicary?

Or art thou a Person? say soth by thy fay.

Our ‘Parsons,’ as Mr. Lowther thinks, are but a form of ‘Piers’ son,’ that is, ‘Peters’ son.’ It is, however, quite possible for them to be what they more nearly resemble; indeed, I find the name occurring as such in the case of ‘Walter le Persone,’ found in the Parliamentary Rolls. Well would it be if we could say of each village cure now what our great early poet said of one he pictured forth—

A good man there was of religioun,
That was a poure Persone of a town,
But riche he was of holy thought and werk,
He was also a lerned man, a clerk,
That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche.

Our ‘Priests’ and ‘Priestmans’[173] answer for themselves. ‘Thomas le Prestre’ and ‘Peter le Prest,’ I do not doubt myself, were but other changes rung upon the same, but I shall have occasion hereafter to propose, at least, a different origin for the latter. The lower ministerial office is suggested to us in ‘Philip le Dekene’ and ‘Thomas le Deken,’ but we must be careful not to confound them with ‘Deakin,’ which is often but another form of ‘Dakin,’ that is, ‘Dawkin,’ or ‘little David.’[174] Our ‘Chaplains’ or ‘Chaplins,’ once written more fully as ‘Reginald le Chapeleine,’ represent less one who officiated in any public sanctuary than him who was attached to some private oratory belonging to one of the higher nobility. Our ‘Chanters’ or ‘Canters’ (‘Xtiana le Chauntour,’ A., ‘William le Chantour,’ M.) still maintain the dignity of the old precentors who led the collegiate or cathedral choir—but the once existing ‘Chanster’ (‘Stephen le Chanster,’ J.), strictly speaking the feminine of the other, is now obsolete.[175] In our ‘Chancellors’ we may recognise the ancient ‘John le Chanceler’ or ‘Geoffry le Chaunceler,’ he to whose care was committed the chapter, books, scrolls, records, and what other literature belonged to the establishment with which he stood connected. ‘Clerk’ as connected with the Church has come down in the world, for as ‘clericus,’ or ‘clergyman,’ it once belonged entirely to the ordained ministry.[176] The introduction of lay-clerks, appointed to lead the responses of the congregation, has, however, connected them all but wholly with this later office. Nor have our ‘Secretans,’ or ‘Sextons,’ or ‘Saxtons’ preserved their early dignity. The sacristan was he who had charge of the church-edifice, especially the robes and vestments, and such things as appertained to the actual service.[177] The present usually accepted meaning of the term, that understood by our great humorist poet when he said—

He went and told the sexton,

And the sexton tolled the bell,

is quite of later growth. In our ‘Colets’ and ‘Collets’ (sometimes the diminutives of ‘Colin’) we are reminded of the colet, or acolyte, who waited upon the priest and assisted in carrying the bread and wine, in lighting the candles, and performing all subordinate duties. Our ‘Bennets,’ when not belonging to the class of baptismal names (as a corruption of ‘Benedict’), once performed the functions of exorcists, and by the imposition of hands and the aspersion of holy water expelled evil spirits from those said to be thus possessed. Last of this group we may mention our ‘Croziers’ and ‘Crosiers,’ they who at this time bore the pastoral staff. Mediæval forms of these are met with in ‘Simon le Croyzer’ or ‘Mabel la Croiser.’ I doubt not that he was a kind of chaplain to his superior, whose official staff it was his duty to bear. In the Book of Common Prayer of the 2nd year of Edward VI. it is directed: ‘Whensoever the bishop shall celebrate the holy communion, or execute any other public office, he shall have upon him, besides his rochet, an alb and cope, or vestment, and also his pastoral staff in his hand, or else borne by his chaplain.’

When we turn our eyes for a moment to the old monastic institutions, we see that they, too, are far from being without their relics. In them we have more distinctly the echo of a departed time. Many of my readers will be familiar with the distinction recorded in such names as ‘Alexander le Seculer’ and ‘Walter le Religieuse,’ or ‘man of religion,’ as Chaucer would have termed the latter. To be ‘religious’ in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries was to be one of a monastic order bound by vows. Thus our great mediæval poet says in his Romance—

Religious folk ben full covert,
Secular folke ben more apert,
But natheless, I will not blame
Religious folke, ne them defame
In what habite that ever they go;
Religion humble, and true also,
Will I not blame, ne despise.

The ‘religieuse’ has apparently stuck to his vows, for I have never found the term in an hereditary form, while ‘Secular,’ as descended from such enrolled folk as ‘Walter le Secular,’ or ‘Joan, uxor Nicholas le Secular,’ still exists. I am afraid, however, the Secularist of that time could and would have told us a different tale. Of these bound orders too, while the general term, as I say, does not now exist surnominally, all the more particular titles which it embraced do. As we catch the cadence of their names a shadow falls athwart our memories, and in its wake a crowd of dim and unsubstantial figures pass before us. Once more we behold the fiery ‘Abbot’ (Juliana Abbot, A., Ralph le Abbe, C.), and the portly ‘Prior’ or ‘Pryor’ (Roger le Priour, B., William le Priur, E.). We see afresh the ‘Friar,’ or ‘Freere,’ or ‘Frere’ (Syward le Frere, A., Geoffrey le Frere, A.), so ‘pleasant of absolution’ and ‘easy of penance.’ Again our eye falls mistily upon the ‘Canon,’ or ‘Cannon’ (William le Cannon, A., Thomas le Canun, E.), with his well-trimmed beard and capped brow, and the ‘Moyne’ (now ‘Munn’) or ‘Monk’ (Beatrix le Munk, A., Thomas le Mun, A., Ivo le Moyne, A.), all closely shaved and cloaked, and cowled, that knew his way to the cellar better than to the chapel, who loved the song more than the chaunt.[178] And now in quick succession flit by us a train of personages all beshrouded in garbs of multitudinous and quaint aspect, in cloaks and hoods, and tippets and girdles, and white and dark apparel. There is the wimpled, grey-eyed ‘Nunn’ (Alice la Nonne, A.), and the Dorturer, represented in olden registers by such a name as ‘Robert le Dorturer,’ he who looked to the arrangements of the dourtour, or dormitory—

His death saw I by revelation,

Sayde this frere, at home in our dortour.[179]

The word still existed in the sixteenth century, as is evidenced by Heywood’s use of it. He says—

The tongue is assigned of wordes to be sorter;

The mouth is assigned to be the tongue’s dorter;

The teeth are assigned to be the tongue’s porter;

But wisdom is ’signed to tye the tongue shorter.

The figure is somewhat forced, but it has its beauty. The ‘Fermerer,’ now found as ‘Fermor’ and ‘Firmer,’ was he who superintended the infirmary. Only a few lines further on, in the earlier of the two poems from which I last quoted, we find Chaucer making mention of—

Our sexton, and our fermerere,

That have been trewe freres fifty year.

The ‘Tale of a Monk,’ too, begins—

A black munk of an abbaye
Was enfermer of alle I herd say—
He was halden an hali man
Imange his felaus.

The fermery was the hospital or ‘spital’[180] attached to each religious house, and was under the immediate control of the above-mentioned officer. It is with him, therefore, we may fitly ally ‘Robert le Almoner,’ or ‘Michael le Aumoner,’ a name still abiding with us, and representative of him who dispensed the alms to the lazars and the poor. It is in allusion to this his office that Robert Brunne in one of his tales says:—

Seynt Jone, the aumenere,[181]
Saith Pers, was an okerere
And was very coveytous
And a niggard and avarus.

Of the same officer in more lordly society the ‘Boke of Curtasye’ thus speaks—

The Aumonere a rod schalle have in honde,
An office for almes, I understonde;
Alle the broken mete he kepys in wait
To dele to pore men at the gate.

Many of those who were supported at this time and in this manner were lepers. We can take up no record, large or small, of the period without coming across a ‘Nicholas’ or ‘Walter le Leper.’ Leprosy was introduced into Western Europe with the return of the Crusaders. To such a degree had it spread in England, that in 1346 Edward III. was compelled to issue a royal mandate enjoining those ‘smitten with the blemish of leprosy’ to ‘betake themselves to places in the country, solitary, and notably distant’ from the dwellings of men. Such a distinctive designation as this would readily cling to a man, even after he had been cured of the disorder,[182] and no wonder that in our ‘Lepers’ and ‘Leppers’ the name still remains as but one more memorial of that noble madness which set Christendom ablaze some six centuries ago. A term used synonymously at this time with leper is found in such an entry as ‘Richard le Masele’ or ‘Richard le Masle,’ that is, ‘Measle.’ Wicklyffe has the word in the case of Naaman, and also of the Samaritan leper.[183] Langland speaks of those who are afflicted with various ailments, and adds that they, if they

Take these myschiefs meeklike,
As mesels, and others,
Han as pleyn pardon
As the plowman hymselve.

Capgrave, too, to quote but one more instance, speaking of Deodatus, a Pope of the seventh century, says ‘He kissed a mysel and sodeynly the mysel was whole.’ Strange to say, this name also is not extinct. Our ‘Badmans’ are not so bad as they might seem. They, and our ‘Bidmans,’ are doubtless but corrupted forms of the old ‘bedeman,’ or ‘beadman,’ he who professionally invoked Heaven in behalf of his patron. It is hence we get our word ‘bead,’ our forefathers having been accustomed to score off the number of aves and paternosters they said by means of these small balls strung on a thread. This practice, I need not say, is still familiar to the Romish Church.

But we have not yet done with the traces of these more distant practices. The various religious wanderers or solitary recluses, though belonging to a system long faded from our English life, find a perpetual epitaph in the directories of to-day. Thus we have still our ‘Pilgrims,’ or ‘Pelerins’ (‘John Pelegrim,’ A., ‘William le Pelerin,’ E.), as the Normans termed them. We may meet with ‘Palmers’ (‘Hervey le Palmer,’ A., ‘John le Paumer,’ M.) any day in the streets of our large towns, names distinctly relating the manner in which their owners have derived their title. The pilgrim may have but visited the shrine of St. Thomas of Canterbury; the latter, as his sobriquet proves, had, forlorn and weary, battled against all difficulties, and trod the path that led to the Holy Sepulchre—

The faded palm-branch in his hand

Showed pilgrim from the Holy Land.[184]

The ‘Pardoner,’ with his pouch choked to the full (‘Walter le Pardoner,’ M.) with saleable indulgences, had but come from Rome. He was an itinerant retailer of ecclesiastic forgivenesses, and was as much a quack as those who still impose upon the credulity of the bucolic mind by selling cheap medicines. As Chaucer says of him—

With feigned flattering and japes,

He made the parson and the peple his apes.

‘Hermit’ I have failed to find as at present existing, though ‘Hermitage’ or ‘Armitage’ (‘John Harmaytayge,’ W. 3), as local names expressive of his abode, are by no means unfamiliar. Our ‘Anchors’ and ‘Ankers,’ however, still live to commemorate the old ancre or anchorite; he who, as his sobriquet implied, was wont to separate himself from the world’s vain pleasures and dwell in seclusion and solitude. In the ‘Romance of the Rose’ it is said—

Sometime I am religious,

Now like an anker in an house.

Piers in his ‘Vision,’ too, speaks of—

Ancres and heremites

That holden them in their celles.

‘Hugh le Eremite’ or ‘Silvester le Hermite’ are early forms of the one, while in the other case we find the aspirate added in ‘John le Haneker.’ The modern dress of this latter, however, presents the usual early and more correct spelling.[185] What a vision is presented for our notice in these various sobriquets. It is the vision of a day that has faded, a day with many gleams of redeeming light, but a day of ignorance and lethargy; a day which, after all, thank God, was but the precursor of the brighter day of the Reformation, when the Church, true to herself and true to her destiny, threw off the shackles and the fetters that bound her, and began a work which her greatest foes have been compelled to admit she carried through amid opposition of the deadliest and most crushing kind.

Before passing on to a survey of our feudal aristocracy, I may mention our ‘Latimers,’ or ‘le Latymer,’ as I find it recorded in early lists. A latinier, or latimer, was literally a speaker or writer of Latin, that language being then the vehicle of all record or transcript. Latin, indeed, for centuries was the common ground on which all European ecclesiastics met. Thus it became looked upon as the language of interpretation. The term I am speaking of, however, seems to have become general at an early stage. An old lyric says—

Lyare was mi latymer,

Sloth and sleep mi bedyner.

Sir John Maundeville, describing an eastern route, says (I am quoting Mr. Lower)—‘And men alleweys fynden Latyneres to go with them in the contrees and furthere beyonde in to tyme that men conne the language.’ Teachers of the Latin tongue itself were not wanting. ‘Le Scholemayster’ existed so early as the twelfth century to show that there were those who professed to initiate our English youth in the rudiments of that which was a polite and liberal education in the eyes of that period. Such sobriquets as ‘le Gramayre,’ or ‘Gramary,’ or ‘Grammer,’ represented the same avocation, being nothing more than the old Norman ‘Gramaire,’ or ‘Grammarian’ as we should now call him, only we now apply the term to a philologist rather than a professional teacher. As ‘Grammar’ the surname is far from being obsolete in our midst. A ‘Nicholas le Lessoner’ is met with in the Hundred Rolls. He was evidently but a schoolmaster also. The verb ‘to lesson,’ i.e. to teach, is still in use in various parts of the country, and we find even Shakespeare using it. Clarence says to his murderer—

Bid Gloster think of this, and he will weep;

to which the murderer replies—

Ay, millstones; as he lessoned us to weep.

(Richard III., act. i. sc. iii.)

In looking over the pages of our early Anglo-Norman history we are at once struck by the fact of the absence of any middle class; that important branch of our community which in after and more civilised ages has done so much for English liberty and English strength. The whole genius of the feudal constitution was opposed to this. There was indeed a graduating scale of feudal tenure which bound together and connected each community; but there was of equal surety in the chain of these independent links of society a certain ring where all alliance ceased save that of service, and which separated each provincial society into two widely-sundered classes. On the one side were the baron and his nearer feudatories and retainers; and below this, on the other, came under one common standard the villein, the peasant, and the boor, looked upon by their superiors with contemptuous indifference, and barely endured as necessary to the administration of their luxury and pleasure. We have already mentioned many of those who gave the baron support. Of other his vassals we may cite ‘le Vavasour,’ or ‘Valvasor,’ a kind of middle-class landowner. The lower orders of chivalry have left us in our many ‘Knights’[186] and ‘Bachelors’ or ‘Backlers’ a plentiful token of former importance. Our ‘Squiers,’ ‘Squires,’ ‘Swiers,’ or ‘Swires’[187] carry us, as does the now meaningless Esquire, to the time when the sons of those ‘Knights’ bore, as the name implies, their shields. By the time of Henry VI., however, it had become adopted by the heirs of the higher gentry, and now it is used indiscriminately enough. Those who are so surnamed may comfort themselves at any rate with the reflection that they are lineally descended from those who bore the name when it was an honourable and distinctive title. ‘Armiger,’ the form in which the word was oftentimes recorded in our Latin rolls, still survives, though barely, in our ‘Armingers,’ this corrupted form being in perfect harmony with all similar instances, as we shall see almost immediately. One of our mediæval rhymes speaks of—

Ten thousand knights stout and fers,

Withouten hobelers and squyers.

These hobelers are far from being uninteresting. When we talk of riding a hobby, we little think what a history is concealed beneath the term. A hobiler[188] in the days we are speaking of, was one who held by tenure of maintaining a hobbie—a kind of small horse, then familiarly so known. A song on the times, written in the fourteenth century, and complaining of the manner in which the upper classes plundered the poor, says:—

And those hoblurs, namelich,
That husband benimeth eri of ground,
Men ne should them bury in none chirch,
But cast them out as a hound.

Later on, by its fictitious representation in the Morris dances of the May-day sports, the hobby came to denote the mere dummy, and now as such affords much scope for equestrian skill in the Rotten Row of our nurseries. What tricks time plays with these words, to be sure, and what a connexion for our ‘Hoblers’ and ‘Hobblers’ to meditate upon. Our ‘Bannermans’ are Scotch, but they represent an office, whether in England or the North, whose importance it would be hard to estimate at this period. Nor are we without traces in our nomenclature of its existence in more southern districts. Our not unfamiliar ‘Pennigers’ and ‘Pennigars’ are but the former official pennager, he who bore the ensign or standard of his lord. They figure even in more general and festive pageants. In the York Procession we find walking alone and between the different craftsmen the ‘Pennagers.’ Probably they bore the ensigns of that then important corporate city. I have but recently referred to ‘Robert Clavynger’ (H.) and the probability of his having carried the club or mace or key of his superiors in office. All or well-nigh all the above names find themselves well represented in the registers of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Our eye falls at once on an ‘Andrew le Gramary,’ a ‘Richard le Gramayre,’ a ‘Thomas le Skolmayster,’ a ‘Warin le Latimer,’ a ‘William le Latiner,’ a ‘Jordan le Vavasur,’ a ‘Simon le Knyt,’ a ‘Gilbert le Bacholer,’ a ‘Walter le Squier,’ or a ‘Nicholas Armiger.’

A curious relic of the military tactics of mediæval times is presented to our notice in our ‘Reuters,’ ‘Ritters,’ and ‘Rutters.’ The old English forms are found in such entries as ‘Thomas le Reuter,’ or ‘Ranulph le Ruter.’ The root of the term is probably the German ritter, or rider, a name given at this period to certain mercenary soldiers oftentimes hired by our English sovereigns out of Brabant and the surrounding country. Thus we find William of Newburgh, under the date 1173, saying that Henry II. ‘stipendarias Bribantionum copias, quas Rutas vocant, accersivit.’ (Lib. ii. cap. 27.) Trivet, relating the same fact, says (p. 73), ‘Conduxit Brabanzones et Rutarios.’[189] An old song begins—

Rutterkyn is come into owre towne,
In a cloke withoute cote or gowne,
Save a raggid hood to kover his crowne
Like a rutter hoyda.
Rutterkyn can speke no Englyssh,
His tonge runneth all on buttyrd fyssh,
Besmeared with grece abowte his disshe,
Like a rutter hoyda.

The nickname ‘rutterkin’ proves the Flemish origin of these troopers. Their capacity for stowing away food and drink, from all accounts, is not exaggerated in the poem from which the above is an extract. We have just mentioned our ‘Bachelors,’ and this reminds us of our ‘Childs,’ and of the days of chivalry. The term ‘child’ was a distinctly honourable title in the olden times. It was borne by the sons of all the higher nobility; if by the eldest son, then in right of his title to his father’s honours and possessions; if more generally by others, then until by some deed of prowess they had been raised to the ranks of knighthood. In either case ‘child’ was the term in use during this probationary state. Thus Byron in his ‘Childe Harold’ has but revived the ‘Childe Waters,’ ‘Childe Rolands,’ and ‘Childe Thopas’s’ of earlier times.[190] We owe many existing and several obsolete surnames to this custom. Our ‘Childs’ are but descendants of such a sobriquet as ‘Ralph le Child;’ our ‘Eyres’ of such an entry as ‘William le Eyre;’ some of our ‘Barnes’ may be but the offspring of such a personage as ‘Thomas le Barne’ (now ‘bairn,’ that is, the born one); while ‘Stephen le Enfant’ or ‘Walter le Enfaunt’ represents an appellation that is now obsolete in England.[191] I need scarcely add that this last, in the form of Infante and Infanta, still bears the same meaning in the royal families of Spain that Child did in our own land in more chivalric days.

The details of early feudal life are wonderfully depicted by our nomenclature. Owing to the boundless and forced ceremony which arose out of the prevailing spirit of feudal pride, our official memorials are well-nigh overwhelming. Feudal tenure itself became associated with office, and none seemed too servile for acceptance. As has been said of Charlemagne’s Court, so might it be said of those of others—‘they were crowded with officers of every rank, some of the most eminent of whom exercised functions about the royal person which would have been thought fit only for slaves in the palace of Augustus or Antonine’—‘to carry his banner or his lance, to lead his array, to be his marshall, or constable, or sewer, or carver, to do in fact such services, trivial or otherwise, as his lord might have done himself, in proper person, had it so pleased him—this was the position coveted by youths of birth and distinction at such a period as this.’ Many of these officerships, or the bare titles, still linger round the court of our sovereign. The higher feudatories, of course, followed the example thus set them by their suzerain, and the lesser barons these, and thus household officers sprang up on every side. See how this has left its mark upon our surnames. ‘John le Conestable,’ or ‘Robert le Constable,’ I need not say, is still well represented. In the ‘Man of Lawes Tale’ the poet says:—

The constable of the castel doun is fare

To see this wreck.

With him we may ally our not unfamiliar ‘Castlemans,’ ‘Castelans,’ and ‘Chatelains,’ representatives of the old ‘John le Chastilioun,’ or ‘Joscelin le Castelan,’ or ‘Ralph le Chatelaine.’ The poet whom I have just quoted says elsewhere:—

Now am I king, now chastelaine.

Doubtless this latter was but a synonym of the constable, and his duties as governor but the same. Of decidedly lower position, but not dissimilar in character, we have also ‘Wybert le Portere,’ or ‘Portarius,’ as he is Latinized in our rolls. An old book of etiquette says:—

When thou comes to a lordis gate

The porter thou shalle fynde therate.

He at the postern would as carefully look against hostile, as our former ‘Peter le Ussher,’ or ‘Alan le Usser,’ within would against informal approach.[192] The Saxon form, however, was evidently not wanting, for we have still ‘Doorward’ and ‘Doorman’ (‘Geoffrey le Doreward,’ A., ‘Nicholas le Doreman,’ O.) in our directories, not to mention their corrupted, ‘Durwards,’ immortalized by Walter Scott, and ‘Dormans’ and ‘Domans.’ The term ‘doorward’ is found in many of our early writers. Thus in an old metrical account of the bringing of Christ before Caiaphas, it is said of John when he returned to fetch in Peter:—

He bid the dureward

Let in his fere.

Our ‘Chamberlaynes’ and ‘Chambers,’[193] (‘Simon le Chamberlain,’ M., ‘Henry le Chaumberleyne,’ B., ‘William de la Chaumbre,’ B.) had access to their lord’s inner privacy, and from their intimacy with his monetary affairs occupied a position at times similar to that of our more collegiate bursar. We have only to look at mediæval costume, its grandeur, its colours, and its varied array, to understand how necessary there should be a special officer to superintend his lord’s wardrobe. Our ‘Wardrops’ are but the former ‘de la Wardrobe,’ or ‘de la Garderoba,’ while ‘le Wardrober,’ or ‘le Garderober,’ has bequeathed us our ‘Wardropers.’ Thus the ‘Book of Curtasye’ says:—

The usshere shalle bydde the wardropere

Make redy for alle, night before they fere.

Equally important as an attendant was the ‘Barbour.’ He especially was on familiar terms with his master—when was he not? I need scarcely say that among his other duties that of acting as surgeon in the household was none of the lightest. Still his tonsorial capacity was his first one. No one then thought of shaving himself, least of all the baron. Even so late as the sixteenth century a writer defending the use of the beard against Andrew Boorde employs this argument:—

But, syre, I praye you, if you tell can,
Declare to me, when God made man
(I meane by our forefather Adam),
Whether that he had a berde then;
And if he had, who did hym shave,
Since that a barber he could not have.

I have no doubt it is here we must set our ‘Simisters,’ relics, as they probably are, of such a name as ‘John Somayster,’ or ‘William Summister.’ The summaster seems from its orthography to have represented one who acted as a clerk or comptroller, something akin to the chamberlain or breviter, whom I shall mention almost immediately; one, in fact, who cast up and certified accounts. Holinshed used the word as if in his day it were of familiar import. Dwelling upon a certain event, he says—‘Over this, if the historian be long, he is accompted a trifler; if he be short, he is taken for a summister.’[194]

In such days as those, what with the number of personal retainers and the excess of hospitality expected of the feudal chief, the culinary department occupied far from an insignificant position in regard to the general accessories of the baronial establishment. Our ‘Cooks,’ or ‘Cokes,’ or ‘Cookmans,’ relics of the old ‘Roger le Coke,’ or ‘Joan le Cook,’ or ‘William Cokeman,’ even then ruled supreme over that most absolute of all monarchies, the kitchen; our ‘Kitchenmans’ (now found also as ‘Kitchingham’), ‘Kitcheners,’ and ‘Kitchens,’ or ‘de la Kitchens,’ as they were once written, reminding us who it was that aided them to turn the spit or handle the posnet. Our ‘Pottingers’ represent the once common ‘Robert le Potager,’ or ‘Walter le Potager,’ the soup-maker. Potage was the ordinary term for soup, thickened well with vegetables and meat.[195] Thus in the ‘Boke of Curtasye’ the guest is bid—

Suppe not with grete sowndynge,

Neither potage ne other thynge—

a rule which still holds good in society. We are well aware of the ingredients of the dish which our Bible translators have still bequeathed to us as ‘a mess of potage.’ In its present corrupted form of ‘porridge’ this notion of a mess rather than of a soup is still preserved. Another interesting servitorship of this class has well-nigh escaped our notice—that of the hastiler: he who turned the haste or spit. In the Close Rolls we find a ‘Thurstan le Hastler’ recorded, and in the Parliamentary Writs such names as ‘Henry Hastiler’ and ‘William Hastiler.’ In the will of Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Essex, among other household servants, such as potager, ferour, barber, ewer, is mentioned ‘William de Barton, hastiler.’ I need not remind Lancashire people that a haister, or haster, is still the term used for the tin screen employed for roasting purposes. The memorials of this interesting servitorship still linger on in our ‘Hastlers,’ ‘Haslers,’ and ‘Haselers.’ If, however, the supervision of the roasting and basting required an attendant, none the less was it so with the washing-up department. How familiarly does such a term as ‘scullery’ fall from our lips, and how little do many of us know of its history. An escuelle[196] was a porringer or dish, and a scullery was a place where such vessels were stored after being washed.[197] Hence a ‘squiller’ or ‘squyler’ was he who looked to this; our modern ‘scullion,’ in fact, which is but a corrupted form of the same word. In one of Robert of Brunne’s poems, we find him saying—

And the squyler of the kechyn,

Piers, that hath woned (dwelt) here yn.[198]

In a book of ‘Ordinances and Regulations’ we find mention made even of a ‘sergeant-squylloure.’ Doubtless his duty was to look after the carriage of utensils at such times as his lord made any extended journey, or to superintend the washing of cup and platter after the open-board festivities which were the custom of early baronial establishments. To provide for every retainer who chanced to come in would be, indeed, a care. The occurrence of a ‘Roger de Norhamtone, Squyler,’ however, in the London City rolls, seems to imply that occasionally the sale of such vessels gave the title. I cannot say the name is obsolete, as I have met with one ‘Squiller;’ and ‘Skiller,’ which would seem to be a natural corruption, is not uncommon. Our ‘Spencers,’ abbreviated from ‘despencer,’ had an important charge—that of the ‘buttery,’ or ‘spence,’ the place where the household store was kept. The term is still in use, I believe, in our country farm-houses. In the ‘Sumner’s Tale’ the glutton is well described as—

All vinolent as botel in the spence;

and Mr. Halliwell, I see, with his wonted research, has lighted on the following lines:—

Yet I had lever she and I
Were both togyther secretly
In some corner in the spence.[199]

‘De la Spence,’ as well as ‘le Spencer,’ has impressed itself upon our living nomenclature. Our ‘Panters,’ ‘Pantlers,’ and ferocious-seeming ‘Panthers,’ descendants of such folk as ‘Richard le Panter,’ or ‘Robert le Paneter,’ or ‘Henry de le Paneterie,’ are but relics of a similar office. They had the superintendence of the ‘paneterie,’ or pantry; literally, of course, the bread closet. It seems, however, early to have become used in a wider and more general sense. In the Household Ordinances of Edward IV. one of the sergeants is styled ‘the chief Pantrer of the King’s mouth.’ John Russel in his ‘Boke of Nurture’ thus directs his student—

The furst yere, my son, thou shalt be pantere or buttilare,

Thou must have three knyffes kene in pantry, I sey thee, evermare,

One knyfe the loaves to choppe, another them for to pare,

The third, sharp and kene, to smothe the trenchers and square.[200]

Of the old ‘Achatour’ (found as ‘Henry le Catour’ or ‘Bernard le Acatour’), the purveyor for the establishment, we have many memorials, those of ‘Cater,’ ‘Cator,’ and ‘Caterer’ being the commonest. Chaucer quaintly remarks of the ‘Manciple,’[201] who was so

Wise in buying of victuals,

that of him

Achatours mighten take ensample.

The provisions thus purchased were called ‘cates,’ a favourite word with some of our later poets. Equivalent to the more monastic ‘le Cellarer,’[202] which is now obsolete, are our numberless ‘Butlers,’ the most accepted form of the endless ‘Teobald le Botilers,’ ‘Richer le Botillers,’ ‘Ralph le Botelers,’ ‘William le Botellers,’ ‘Walter le Butillers,’ or ‘Hugh le Buteilliers,’ of this time. As we shall observe by-and-by, however, this was also an occupative name.[203]

With so many officers to look after the preparations, we should expect the dinner itself to be somewhat ceremonious. And so it was—far more ceremonious, however, than elegant in the light of the nineteenth century. Our ‘Senechals’ and ‘Senecals’ (‘Alexander le Seneschal,’ B., ‘Ivo Seneschallus,’ T.), relics of the ancient ‘seneschal,’ Latinized in our records as ‘Dapifer’ (‘Henry Dapifer,’ A.), arranged the table. The root of this word is the Saxon ‘schalk,’ a servant which, though now wholly obsolete, seems to have been in familiar use in early times.[204] An old poem tells us—

Then the schalkes sharply shift their horses,

To show them seemly in their sheen weeds.

In ‘Sir Gawayne,’ too, the attendant is thus described—

Clene spurs under

Of bright golde, upon silk bordes, barred full rich,

And scholes (depending) under shanks, there the schalk rides.

We are not without traces of its existence in other compounds. Thus our ‘Marshalls’ were originally ‘marechals;’ that is, ‘mare-schalks,’ the early name for a horse-groom or blacksmith. The Marshall, however, was early turned into an indoor office, and seems to have been busied enough in ordering the position of guests in the hall, a very punctilious affair in those days. The ‘Boke of Curtasye’ says:—

In halle marshalle alle men schalle sett,

After their degre, withouten lett.

Our ‘Gateschales,’ a name now altogether obsolete, were the more simple porter, while our ‘Gottschalks,’ a surname more frequently hailing from Germany, but once common with ourselves as a Christian name, denote simply ‘God’s servant.’ But we are wandering. Let us come back to the dinner-table. Such sobriquets as ‘Ralph le Suur’[205] or ‘John le Sewer’ remind us of the sewer—he who brought in the viands.[206] A sewe, from the old French sevre, to follow, was any cooked dish, and thus is simply equivalent to our course. Chaucer, in describing the rich feasts of Cambuscan, King of Tartary, says the time would fail him to tell—

Of their strange sewes.

I believe the Queen’s household still boasts its four gentlemen sewers. As a surname, too, the word is still common. A curious custom presents itself to our remembrance in our ‘Says,’ who, when not of the ‘de Says’ (‘Hugh de Say,’ A.), are but descendants of the ‘le Says’ (‘John le Say,’ M.) of the Hundred Rolls. An ‘assay’ or ‘say’ was he who assayed or tasted the messes as they were set one by one before the baron, to guard against his being accidentally or purposely poisoned. An old poem uses the fuller form, where it says—

Thine assayer schalle be an hownde,

To assaye thy mete before thee.

In the ‘Boke of Curtasye,’ too, we are told to what ranks this privilege belonged—

No mete for man schalle sayed be,

But for kynge, or prynce, or duke so fre.[207]

Another term for the same made its mark upon our nomenclature as ‘Gustur’ (‘Robert le Gustur,’ T.) To gust was thus used till Shakespeare’s day, and we still speak of ‘gusto’ as equivalent to relish.

We are reminded by the fact of the existence of ‘Knifesmith’ and ‘Spooner’ only among our early occupative surnames that there were no forks in those days.[208] There is no ‘Forker’ to be found. Even the ‘Carver’ (‘Adam le Kerver,’ A., ‘Richard le Karver,’ A.) had to use his fingers. In the ‘Boke of Kervynge,’ a manual of the then strictest etiquette in such matters, we find the following direction:—‘Set never on fyshe, flesche, beest, ne fowle, more than two fyngers and a thombe.’ Seldom, too, did they use plates as we now understand them. Before each guest was set a round slice of bread called a trencher, and the meat being placed upon this, he consumed the whole, or as much as he pleased. Under these circumstances we can easily understand how necessary would be the office of ‘Ewer,’ a name found in every early roll as ‘Brian le Ewer,’ or ‘Richard le Ewere,’ or ‘Adam de la Euerie.’ As he supplied water for each to cleanse his hands he was close followed by the ‘napper’ or ‘napier,’ who proffered the towel or napkin. The word, I need scarcely say, is but a diminutive of the old nape, which was applied in general to the tablecloths and other linen used in setting forth the dinner. An old book, which I have already quoted, in directing the attendant how to lay the cloth, says—

The over nape schall double be layde.

The Hundred Rolls and other records furnish us with such names as ‘Jordan le Nappere,’ or ‘John le Napere,’ or ‘Walter de la Naperye.’ Behind the lord of the board, nigh to his elbow, stood the ‘page,’ holding his cup. This seems to have been an office much sought after by the sons of the lower nobility, and it is to the honourable place in which it was held we no doubt owe the fact that not merely are our ‘Pages’ decidedly numerous in the present day, but that we also find such further particular compounds as ‘Small-page,’[209] ‘Little-page,’ or ‘Cup-page’ holding anything but a precarious existence in our midst. There seems to have been but little difference between this office and that of the ‘henchman,’ only that the latter, as his name, more strictly written ‘haunchman,’ shows, attended his master’s behests out of doors. He, too, lives on hale and hearty in our ‘Henchmans,’ ‘Hinxmans,’ ‘Hincksmans,’ and ‘Hensmans.’[210]

In several of our early records of names we find ‘Peter le Folle,’ ‘Alexander le Fol,’ and ‘Johannes Stultus’ appearing in apparently honest and decent company. The old fool or jester was an important entity in the retinue of the mediæval noble. He could at least say, if he might not do, what he liked, and I am afraid the more ribald his buffoonery the greater claim he possessed to be an adept in his profession in the eyes of those who heard him. His dress was always in character with his duties, being as uncouth as fashion reversed could make it. In his hand he bore a mock rod of state, his head was surmounted by a huge cap peaked at the summit and surrounded with little jingling bells, his dress was in colour as conflicting as possible, and the tout ensemble I need not dwell upon. We still talk of a ‘foolscap,’ and even our paper has preserved the term from the fact that one of the earliest watermarks we have was that of a fool’s cap with bells. ‘Fools,’ I need not say, wherever else to be met with, are now obsolete so far as our directories are concerned.

I have just mentioned the henchman. This at once carries us without the baronial walls, and in whatever scene we are wont to regard the early suzeraine as engaging, it is remarkable how fully marked is our nomenclature with its surroundings. Several useful servitorships, however, claim our first attention. In such days as these, when the telegraph wire was an undreamt-of mystery, and highways traversed by steam-engines would have been looked upon as something supernatural indeed, we can readily understand the importance of the official ‘Roger le Messager,’ or ‘John le Messager,’ nor need we be surprised by the frequency with which he is met. In the ‘Man of Lawes Tale’ it is said—

This messager to don his avantage

Unto the Kinges mother rideth swift.

Though generally found as ‘Messinger’ or ‘Massinger,’ the truer and more ancient form is not wholly obsolete.[211] But if there were no telegraphs, neither was there any regular system of postage. The name of ‘Ely le Breviter’ or ‘Peter le Brevitour’ seems to remind us of this. I do not doubt myself the ‘breviter’ was kept by his lord for the writing or conveyance of letters or brevets.[212] Piers Plowman uses the word where, of the Pardoner’s preaching, it is said—

Lewed men loved it wel,
And liked his wordes,
Comen up knelynge
To kissen his bulles.
He bouched them with his brevet
And blered their eighen.[213]

The signet of his lord was in the hands of the ‘Spigurnell’ or ‘Spigurell,’ both of which forms still exist, I believe, in our general nomenclature. As the sealer of all the royal writs, the king’s spigurell would have an office at once important and careful. The term itself is Saxon, its root implying that which is shut up or sealed. Our ‘Coffers,’ relics of the old ‘Ralph le Cofferer,’ or ‘John le Cofferer,’ though something occupative, were nevertheless official also, and are to be found as such in the thirteenth century. They remind us of the day when there were no such things as cheque-books, nor banks, nor a paper-money currency. Then on every expedition, be it warlike or peaceful, solid gold or silver had to be borne for the baron’s expenditure and that of his retinue; therefore none would be more important than he who superintended the transit from place to place of the chest of solid coinage set under his immediate care. Our early ‘Passavants,’ or ‘Pursevaunts,’ or more literally pursuivants, were under the direction of the ‘Herald,’or ‘Heraud,’ as Chaucer styles him, and usually preceded the royal or baronial retinue to announce its approach, and attend to such other duties of lesser importance as his superior delegated to him. In this respect he occupied a position much akin to that of the ‘Harbinger’ or ‘Herberger,’ who prepared the harborage or lodging, and all other entertainment required ere the cavalcade arrived. When we reflect upon the large number of retainers, the ceremonious list of attendants, the greater impediments to early travel, and the difficulties of forwarding information, we shall see that these officerships were by no means so formal as we might be apt to imagine. To give illustrations of all the above-mentioned surnames were easy, were it not that the number is so large that it becomes a difficulty which to select. Such entries, however, as ‘Jacob le Messager,’ ‘Godfrey le Coffrer,’ ‘Roger Passavant,’ ‘Main le Heralt,’ ‘Herbert le Herberjur,’ ‘Nicholas le Spigurnell,’ ‘Peter le Folle,’ or the Latinized ‘Johannes Stultus,’ may be recorded as among the more familiar. A reference to the Index will furnish examples of the rest, as well as additional ones of the above.

In a day when horses were of more consequence than now, we need not be surprised to find the baronial manger under special supervision. This officer figures in our mediæval archives in such entries as ‘Walter le Avenur’ or ‘William le Avenare.’[214] As his very name suggests, it was the avenar’s care to provide for the regular and sufficient feeding of the animals placed under his charge.[215] The ‘Boke of Curtayse’ tells us his duties—

The aveyner shall ordeyn provande good won
For the lordys horsis everychon,
They schyn have two cast of hay,
A peck of provande on a day.

Elsewhere, too, the same writer says—

A maystur of horsys a squyer ther is,

Aveyner and ferour under him i-wys.

Our ‘Palfreymans’ (‘John le Palfreyman,’ M.), though not always official, I do not doubt had duties also of a similar character in looking after the well-being of their mistress’s palfrey, and attending the lady herself when she rode to the cover, or took an airing on the more open and breezy hillside.

The two great amusements of the period we are considering were the hunt and the tournament. Of the former we have many relics, nor is the latter barren or unfruitful of terms connected therewith that still linger on in the surnames of to-day. The exciting encounters which took place in these chivalric meetings or jousts had a charm alike for the Saxon and the Norman; alike, too, for spectator as well as for him who engaged in the fierce mêlée. Training for this was by no means left to the discretion of amateur intelligence. In three several records of the thirteenth century I find such names as ‘Peter le Eskurmesur,’ ‘Henry le Eskyrmessur,’ and ‘Roger le Skirmisour.’ The root of these terms is, of course, the old French verb ‘eskirmir,’ to fence. It is thence we get our skirmish and scrimmage, the latter form, though looked upon now as of a somewhat slang character, being found in the best of society in our earlier writers. Originally it denoted a hand-to-hand encounter between two horsemen. We still imply by a skirmish a short and sharp conflict between the advanced posts of two contending armies. As a teacher of ‘the noble art of self-defence,’[216] we can easily understand how important was the skirmisher. The name has become much corrupted by lapse of time, scarcely recognisable, in fact, in such a garb as ‘Scrimmenger,’ ‘Skrymsher,’ ‘Skrimshire,’ and perchance ‘Scrimshaw,’ forms which I find in our present London and provincial directories. Of those who were wont to engage we have already mentioned the majority. All the different grades of nobility were present, and with them were their esquires, with shield and buckler, ready to supply a fresh unsplintered lance, or a new shield, with its proudly emblazoned crest. I need scarce remind the reader of what consequence in such a day as this would be the costume of him who thus engaged in such deadly conflict. The invention of gunpowder has changed the early tactics of fight. Battles are lost and won now long ere the real mêlée has taken place. Then everything, whether in war or tournament, was settled face to face. To pierce his opponent where an inlet could admit his spear, or to unhorse him by the shock of meeting, was the knight’s one aim. The bloodiness of such an affray can be better imagined than described. We still hear of distorted features in the after inspection of the scene of battle, but we can have no conception of the mangling that the bodies of horse and rider underwent, the inevitable result of the earlier manner of warfare. Death is mercifully quick now upon the battle-field. We have still three or four professional surnames that remind us of this. We have still our ‘Jackmans,’ or ‘Jakemans,’ as representatives of the former cavalry; so called from the ‘jack’ or coat of mail they wore. It is this latter article which has bequeathed to our youngsters of the nineteenth century their more peaceful and diminutive jacket. Thus mailed and horsed, they had to encounter the cruel onslaught of our ‘Spearmans,’ and ‘Pikemans,’ and ‘Billmans,’ names that themselves suggest how bloody would be the strife when hatchet blade, and sharp pike, and keen sword clashed together. To cover and shield the body, then, was the one thought of these early days of military tactics, and at the same time to give the fullest play to every limb and sinew. This was a work of a most careful nature, and no wonder it demanded the combined skill of several craftsmen. Such occupative sobriquets as ‘Adam le Armerer’ or ‘Simon le Armurer’ are now represented by the curter ‘Armer’ or ‘Armour.’ In the ‘Knight’s Tale’ it is said—

There were also of Martes division
Th’ armerer, and the bowyer, and the smith,
That forgeth sharpe swerdes on his stith.

Our ‘Frobishers,’ ‘Furbishers,’ and ‘Furbers,’ once found as ‘Richard le Fourbishour’ or ‘Alan le Fourbour,’ scoured and prepared the habergeon, or jack just referred to, while ‘Gilbert le Hauberger’ or ‘John le Haubergeour’ was more immediately engaged in constructing it. Our present Authorized Version, I need hardly say, still retains the word. In ‘Sire Thopas,’ too, it is used where it is said—

And next his schert an aketoun,

And over that an habergoun.

Our classical-looking ‘Homers’ are the naturally corrupted form of the once familiar ‘le Heaumer,’ he who fashioned the warrior’s helmet.[217] Our ‘Sworders,’ I imagine, forged him his trusty blade,[218] while our ‘Sheathers’ furnished forth its slip. Our ‘Platers’ I would suggest as makers of his cuirass, while our ‘Kissers’—far less demonstrative than they look—are but relics of such a name as ‘Richard le Kissere,’ he who manufactured his cuishes or thigh armour, one of the most careful parts of the entire dress.[219] Lastly, our ‘Spurriers’ were there ready to supply him with his rowel, and thus in warlike guise he was prepared either for adventurous combat in behalf of the distressed damsel, or to seek favour in the eyes of her he loved in the more deadly lists.[220]

I must not forget to mention our ‘Kemps’ while upon military affairs, a general term as it was for a soldier in the days of which we are speaking. I believe the phrase ‘to go a kemping’ is still in use in the north. In the old rhyme of ‘Guy and Colbrand’ the minstrel says—

When meat and drink is great plentye,
Then lords and ladys still will be,
And sit and solace lythe:
Then it is time for mee to speake,
Of kern knightes and kempes greate,
Such carping for to kythe.

How familiar a term it must have been in the common mouth the frequency with which the name is met fully shows.

Our ‘Slingers’ represent an all but forgotten profession, but they seem to have been useful enough in their day and generation. The sling was always attached to a stick, whence the old term ‘staffsling.’ Lydgate describes David as armed

With a staffe slynge, voyde of plate and mayle;

while in ‘Richard Cœur de Lion’ we are told—

Foremost he sette hys arweblasteres,
And aftyr that hys good archeres,
And aftyr hys staff-slyngeres,
And other with scheeldes and speres.

But we must not forget old England’s one boast, her archers, and our last quotation fitly brings them to our notice. They, too, in the battle-field and in the rural list, maintained alike their supremacy. If we would be proud of our early victories, we must ever look with veneration on the bow. ‘Bowman’ and ‘Archer’ still represent the more military professional, but not alone. Even more interesting, as speaking for the more specific crossbow or ‘arbalist,’ are our ‘Alabasters,’ ‘Arblasters,’ ‘Arblasts,’ and ‘Balsters.’ In Robert of Gloucester’s description of the reign of the Conqueror, it is said—

So great power of this land and of France he nom (took)

With him into England, of knights and squires,

Spearmen anote, and bowemen, and also arblasters.

Chaucer, too, describing a battlement, says—

And eke within the castle were
Springoldes, gonnes, bowes, and archers,
And eke about at corners
Men seine over the wall stand
Grete engines, who were nere hand,
And in the kernels, here and there,
Of arblasters great plentie were.

In the Hundred Rolls he is Latinized as ‘John Alblastarius,’ and in the York Records as ‘Thomas Balistarius.’ The Inquisitiones style him ‘Richard le Alblaster,’ while the Parliamentary Writs register him as ‘Reginald le Arblaster.’ It was to this class of armour our word ‘artillery’ was first applied, a fact which our Bible translators have preserved, where, in describing the meeting between David and Jonathan, they speak of the latter as giving his ‘artillery to the lad.’ Cotgrave, too, in his dictionary, printed at the beginning of the seventeenth century, has the following:—‘Artellier, a bowyer or bow-maker, also a fletcher, or one that makes both bows and arrows.’ The mention of the fletcher brings us to the more general weapon. Such an entry as the following would seem strange to the eyes of the nineteenth century:—‘To Nicolas Frost, bowman, Stephen Sedar, fletcher,[221] Ralph, the stringer, and divers others of the said mysteries, in money, paid to them, viz.:—to the aforesaid Nicholas, for 500 bows, 31l. 8s.; to the aforesaid Stephen, for 1,700 sheaves of arrows, 148l. 15s.; and to the aforesaid Ralph, for forty gross of bowstrings, 12l.’ (Exchequer Issues, 14 Henry IV.) This short extract in itself shows us the origin of at least three distinct surnames, viz.:—‘Bowyer,’ ‘Fletcher,’ and ‘Stringer.’ We should hardly recognise the first, however, in such entries as ‘Adam le Boghiere,’ or ‘William le Boghyere.’ ‘John le Bower’ reminds us that some of our ‘Bowers’ are similarly sprung, while ‘George le Boyer’ answers for our ‘Boyers.’ Besides these, we have ‘Robert Bowmaker’ or ‘John Bowmaykere’ to represent the fuller sobriquet. So much for the bow. Next comes the arrow. This was a very careful piece of workmanship. Four distinct classes of artizans were engaged in its structure, and, as we might expect, all are familiar names of to-day. ‘John le Arowsmyth’ we may set first. He confined himself to the manufacture of the arrow-head. Thus we find the following statement made in an Act passed in 1405:—‘Item, because the Arrowsmyths do make many faulty heads for arrows and quarels, it is ordained and established that all heads for arrows and quarels, after this time to be made, shall be well boiled or braised, and hardened at the points with steel.’ (Stat. Realm.)[222] ‘Clement le Settere’ or ‘Alexander le Settere’[223] was busied in affixing these to the shaft, and ‘John le Tippere’ or ‘William le Tippere’ in pointing them off. Nor is this all—there is yet the feather. Of the origin of such mediæval folk as ‘Robert le Fleccher’ or ‘Ada le Fletcher,’ we are reminded by Milton, where, in describing an angel, he says—

His locks behind,

Illustrious on his shoulders, fledge with wings,

Lay waving round.

The fletcher, or fledger as I had well-nigh called him, spent his time, in fact, in feathering arrows.

Skelton in ‘The Maner of the World’ says:—

So proude and so gaye,
So riche in arraye,
And so skant of mon-ey
Saw I never:
So many bowyers,
So many fletchers,
And so few good archers
Saw I never.

While all these names, however, speak for specific workmanship, our ‘Flowers’ represent a more general term. We are told of Phœbus in the ‘Manciples Tale,’ that

His bowe he bent, and set therein a flo.

‘Flo,’ was a once familiar term for an arrow. ‘John le Floer,’ or ‘Nicholas le Flouer,’ therefore, would seem to be but synonymous with ‘Arrowsmith’ or ‘Fletcher.’ ‘Stringer’ and ‘Stringfellow’ are self-explanatory, and are common surnames still. What a list of sobriquets is here! What a change in English social life do they declare. Time was when to be a sure marksman was the object of every English boy’s ambition. The bow was his chosen companion. Evening saw him on the village green, beneath the shade of the old yew tree, and as he practised his accustomed sport, his breath would come thick and fast, as he bethought him of the coming wake, and his chance of bringing down the popinjay, and presenting the ribbon to his chosen queen of the May. Yes, times are altered. Teeming cities cover the once rustic sward, broadcloth has eclipsed the Lincoln green, the clothyard, the arrow; but still amid the crowd that rushes to and fro in our streets the name of an ‘Archer,’ or a ‘Bowman,’ or a ‘Butts,’ or a ‘Popgay’ spoken in our ears will hush the hubbub of the city, and, forgotten for a brief moment the greed for money, will carry us, like a pleasant dream recalled, into the fresher and purer atmosphere of England’s past.

In the poem from which I have but recently quoted we have the record of ‘gonnes,’ or ‘guns,’ as we should now term them. It would be quite possible for our nomenclature to be represented by memorials of the powder magazine, and I should be far from asserting that such is not the case.[224] In the household of Edward III. there are enumerated, among others, ‘Ingyners lvij; Artellers vj; Gonners vj.’ Here there is a clear distinction between the ‘gun’ and the ‘engine;’ between missiles hurled by powder and those by the catapult. Fifty years even earlier than this Chaucer had used the following sentence:—‘They dradde no assaut of gynne, gonne, nor skaffaut.’ In his ‘Romance,’ too, as I have just shown, he places in juxtaposition ‘grete engines’ and ‘gonnes.’ Of one, if not both of these, we have undoubted memorials in our nomenclature. The Hundred Rolls furnish us with a ‘William le Engynur’ and a ‘Walter le Ginnur;’ the Inquisitiones with a ‘Richard le Enginer,’ and the Writs with a ‘William le Genour.’ The descendants of such as these are, of course, our ‘Gunners,’ ‘Ginners,’ ‘Jenour,’ and ‘Jenners,’[225] the last of which are now represented by one who is as renowned for recovering as his ancestor in days gone by would be for destroying life. Our ‘Gunns’ and ‘Ginns’ also must be referred to the same source. In one of the records just alluded to a ‘Warin Engaine’ is to be met with. If we elide the first syllable, as in the previous instances, the modern form at once appears.

But if in the deadly tournament the baron and his retainers found an ample pastime, nevertheless the chase was of all diversions the most popular. In this the prince and the peasant alike found recreation, while with regard to the latter, as we shall see, it was also combined with service. The woody wastelands, so extended in these earlier days of a sparse population, afforded sport enough for the most ardent huntsman. According to the extent of privilege or the divisions into which they were separated, these tracts were styled by the various terms of ‘forest,’ ‘chase,’ ‘park,’ and ‘warren.’ To any one at all conversant with old English law these several words will be familiar enough. To keep the wilder beasts within their prescribed limits, to prevent them injuring the tilled lands, and in general to guard the common interests of lord and tenant, keepers were appointed. The names of these officers, the chief of whom are entitled by appellations whose root is of a local character, are well-nigh all found to this day in our directories. Indeed there is no class of names more firmly imbedded there. In the order of division I have just alluded to, we have ‘Forester,’ with its corrupted ‘Forster’ and ‘Foster,’ relics of such registered folk as ‘Ivo le Forester,’ ‘Henry le Forster,’ or ‘Walter le Foster;’ ‘Chaser,’ now obsolete, I believe, but lingering on for a considerable period as the offspring of ‘William’ or ‘Simon le Chasur;’ ‘Parker,’ or ‘Parkman,’ or ‘Park,’ descended from ‘Adam le Parkere,’ or ‘Hamo le Parkere,’ or ‘Roger atte Parke,’ or ‘John del Parc,’ and ‘Warener’ or ‘Warner,’ or ‘Warren,’ lineally sprung from men of the stamp of ‘Thomas le Warrener,’ ‘Jacke le Warner,’ or ‘Richard de Waren.’ The curtailed forms of these several terms seem to have been all but consequent with the rise of the officership itself. ‘Love’ in the ‘Romance’ says:—

Now am I knight, now chastelaine,
Now prelate, and now chaplaine,
Now priest, now clerke, now forstere.

In his description of the Yoman, too, Chaucer adds—

An horne he bere, the baudrick was of grene,

A fostere was he sothely as I guesse.

Thus, again, Langland, in setting forth Glutton’s encounter with the frequenters of the tavern, speaks familiarly of—

Watte the Warner.

But these are not all. It is with them we must associate our ancestral ‘Woodwards’ or ‘Woodards,’ and still more common ‘Woodreefs,’ ‘Woodrows,’ ‘Woodroffs,’ and ‘Woodruffs,’ all more or less perverted forms of the original wood-reeve.[226] A song representing the husbandmen as complaining of the burdens in Edward II.’s reign says—

The hayward heteth us harm to habben of his

The bailif beckneth us bale, and weneth wel do;

The wodeward waiteth us wo.

All these officers were more or less of legal capacity, men whose duty it was, bill in hand, to guard the vert and venison under their charge,[227] to act as agents for their lord in regard to the pannage of hogs, to look carefully to the lawing of dogs, and in case of offences to present them to the verderer at the forest assize. The ‘Moorward,’ found in our early records as ‘German le Morward’ or ‘Henry le Morward,’ guarded the wilder and bleaker districts. ‘The Rider,’ commonly found as ‘Roger le Rydere’ or ‘Ralph le Ryder,’ in virtue of having a larger extent of jurisdiction, was mounted, though his office was essentially the same. Mr. Lower, remarking upon this word, has a quotation from the ballad of ‘William of Cloudesley,’ where the king, rewarding the brave archer, says:—

I give thee eightene pence a day,
And my bowe thou shalt bere,
And over all the north countrè
I make thee chyfe rydere.

With him we must associate our ‘Rangers’ and ‘Keepers,’ who, acting doubtless under him, assisted also in the work of patrolling the woodland and recovering strayed beasts, and presenting trespassers to the swainmote just referred to.

The bailiff, shortened as a surname into ‘Bailey,’ ‘Baillie’ (‘German le Bailif,’ J., ‘Henry le Baillie,’ M.), like the reve, seems to have been both of legal and private capacity; in either case acting as deputy.[228] This word ‘reve’ did a large amount of duty formerly, but seems now to be fast getting into its dotage. In composition, however, it is far from being obsolete. The ‘Reeve’ (‘John le Reve,’ M., ‘Sager le Reve,’ H.), who figured so conspicuously among the Canterbury Pilgrims, would be the best representative of the term in his day, I imagine—

His lordes shepe, his nete, and his deirie,

His swine, his hors, his store, and his pultrie,

Were wholly in this reves governing.

Our ‘Grieves’ (‘Thomas le Greyve,’ A.), who are but the fuller ‘Gerefa,’ fulfilled, and I believe in some parts of Scotland still fulfil, the capacity here described, being but manorial bailiffs, in fact. ‘The Boke of Curtasye’ says—

Grayvis, and baylys, and parker
Shall come to accountes every yere
Byfore the auditours of the lorde.

Thus, too, our ‘Portreeves’ (‘William le Portreve,’ A., ‘Augustin le Portreve,’ A.), who in our coast towns fulfilled the capacity of our more general mayor, are oftentimes in our earlier records enrolled as Portgreve.’ ‘Hythereve’ (‘John le Huthereve,’ O.), from hithe, a haven, would seem to denote the same office, while our obsolete ‘Fenreves’ (‘Adam le Fenreve,’ A.), like the ‘Moorward’ mentioned above, had charge, I doubt not, of the wilder and more sparsely populated tracts of land. Many other compounds of this word we have already recorded; some we shall refer to by-and-by, and with them and these the reeve, after all, is not likely to be soon forgotten.

But the poorer villeins were not without those who should guard their interests also. In a day of fewer landmarks and scantier barriers trespasses would be inevitable. An interesting relic of primitive precaution against the straying of animals is found in the officership of the ‘Hayward’ (or ‘Adam le Heyward,’ as the Hundred Rolls have it), whose duty it was to guard the cattle that grazed on the village common. He was so styled from the Saxon ‘hay’ or ‘hedge,’ already spoken of in our previous chapter. An old poem has it—

In tyme of hervest mery it is ynough;
Peres and apples hongeth on bough,
The hayward bloweth mery his horne;
In every felde ripe is corne.

In ‘Piers Plowman,’ too, we have the word—

I have an horne, and be a hayward,
And liggen out a nyghtes
And kepe my corne and my croft
From pykers and theves.

It will be seen from these two references that the officership was of a somewhat general character. The cattle might be his chief care, but the common village interests were also under his supervision. The term has left many surnames to maintain its now decayed and primitive character; ‘Hayward’ and ‘Haward’ are, however, the most familiar. ‘Hayman,’ doubtless, is of similar origin. If, in spite of the hayward’s care, it came to pass that any trespass occurred, the village ‘pounder’ was ready at hand to impound the animal till its owner claimed it, and paid the customary fine—

In Wakefield there lives a jolly pinder,

In Wakefield, all on a green.

So we are told in ‘Robin Hood.’ I need not add that our many ‘Pounders,’ ‘Pinders,’ and still more classic ‘Pindars,’ are but the descendants of him or one of his confrères. I do not doubt myself, too, that our ‘Penders’ (‘William le Pendere’ in the Parliamentary Writs) will be found to be of a similar origin.

While, however, these especial officers superintended the general interests of lord and tenant, there were those also whose peculiar function it was to guard the particular quarry his master loved to chase; to see them unmolested and undisturbed during such time as the hunt itself was in abeyance, and then, when the chase came on, to overlook and conduct its course. These, too, are not without descendants. Such names as ‘Stagman’ and ‘Buckmaster,’[229] ‘Hindman’ and ‘Hartman,’ ‘Deerman’ and its more amatory ‘Dearman,’ by their comparative frequency, remind us how important would be their office in the eye of their lord.

Nor are those who assisted in the lordly hunt itself left unrepresented in our nomenclature. The old ‘Elyas le Hunderd,’ or ‘hund-herd,’ has left in our ‘Hunnards’ an abiding memorial of the ‘houndsman.’ Similarly the ‘vaultrier’ was he who unleashed them. It has been a matter of doubt whether or no the more modern ‘feuterer’ owes his origin to this term, but the gradations found in such registrations as ‘John le Veutrer,’ ‘Geoffrey le Veuterer,’ and ‘Walter le Feuterer,’ to be met with in the rolls of this period, set all question, I should imagine, at rest. An old poem, describing the various duties of these officers and their charges, says—

A halpeny the hunte takes on the day
For every hounde the sothe to say;
The vewtrer, two cast of brede he tase,
Two lesshe of greyhounds if that he has.

‘Fewter’ and ‘Futter,’[230] however, seem to be the only relics we now possess of this once important care. Such names as ‘John le Berner’ or ‘Thomas le Berner,’ common enough in old rolls, must be distinguished from our more aristocratic ‘Berners.’ The berner was a special houndsman who stood with fresh relays of dogs ready to unleash them if the chase grew heated and long. In the Parliamentary Rolls he is termed a ‘yeoman-berner.’ Our ‘Hornblows,’ curtailed from ‘Hornblower,’ and simpler ‘Blowers,’ would seem to be closely related to the last, for the horn figured as no mean addition by its jubilant sounds to the excitement of the chase. He who used it held an office that required all the attention he could bring to bear upon it. The dogs were not unleashed until he had sounded the blast, and if at any time from his elevated station he caught sight of the quarry, he was by the manner of winding his instrument to certify to the huntsman the peculiar class to which it belonged. In the Hundred Rolls we find him inscribed as ‘Blowhorn,’ a mere reversal of syllables. Of a more general and professional character probably would be our ‘Hunters,’ ‘Huntsmans,’ and ‘Hunts,’ not to mention the more Norman ‘John le Venner’ or ‘Richard Fenner.’ It may not be known to all our ‘Hunts’ that theirs, the shorter form, was the most familiar term in use at that time; hence the number that at present exist. We are told in the ‘Knight’s Tale’ of the—

Hunte and horne, and houndes him beside;

while but a little further on he speaks of—

The hunte ystrangled with the wilde beres.

Forms like ‘Walter le Hunte’ or ‘Nicholas le Hunte’ are very common to the old records. As another proof of the general use of this word we may cite its compounds. ‘Borehunte’ carries us back to the day when the wild boar ranged the forest’s deeper gloom. ‘Wolfhunt,’ represented in the Inquisitiones by such a sobriquet as ‘Walter le Wolfhunte,’ reminds us that Edgar did not utterly exterminate that savage beast of prey, as is oftentimes asserted. A family of this name held lands in the Peak of Derbyshire at this period by the service of keeping the forest clear of wolves. In the forty-third year of Edward III. one Thomas Engeine held lands in Pitchley, in the county of Northampton, by service of finding at his own cost certain dogs for the destruction of wolves, foxes, &c., in the counties of Northampton, Rutland, Oxford, Essex, and Buckingham; nay, as late as the eleventh year of Henry VI. Sir Robert Plumpton held one borate of land in Nottinghamshire, by service of winding a horn, and chasing or frightening the wolves in Sherwood Forest.[231] Doubtless, however, as in these recorded instances, it would be in the more hilly and bleaker districts, or in the deeper forests, he found his safest and last retreat. It seems well-nigh literally to be coming down from a mountain to a mole-hill to speak of our ‘Mole-hunts,’ the other compound of this word. But small as he was in comparison with the other, he was scarcely less obnoxious on account of his burrowing propensities, for which the husbandman gave him the longer name of mouldwarp. His numbers, too, made him formidable, and it is no wonder that people found occupation enough in his destruction, or that the name of ‘Molehunt’ should have found its way into our early rolls. So late, indeed, as 1641, we find in a farming book the statement that 12d. was the usual price paid by the farmer for every dozen old moles secured, and 6d. for the same number of young ones. This speaks at least for their plentifulness. An old provincialism for mole, and one not yet extinct, was ‘wont’ or ‘want.’ This explains the name of ‘Henry le Wantur,’ which may be met with in the Hundred Rolls. In the Sloane MS. is a method given ‘for to take wontes.’ It would be in the deeper underwood our ‘Todmans’ and ‘Todhunters,’ the chasers of the fox, or ‘tod,’ as he was popularly called, found diversion enough. It would be here our ‘Brockmans’ secured the badger. I doubt not these were both also of professional character—aids and helps to the farmer. Indeed, he had many upon whose services he could rely for a trifle of reward in the shape of a silver penny, or a warm mess of potage on the kitchen settle. Our ‘Burders’ and ‘Fowlers,’ by their craft, whether of falconry or netting, or in the use of the cross-bow bolt, aided to clear the air of the more savage birds of prey, or of the lesser ones that would molest the bursting seed. I need scarcely remark that the distinction between ‘bird’ and ‘fowl’ is modern. The ‘fowls of the air’ with our Saxon Bible, and up to very recent days, embraced every winged creature, large and small. In our very expression ‘barndoor-fowl’ we are only using a phrase which served to mark the distinction between the wilder and the more domesticated bird. The training and sale of bullfinches seem to have given special employment then, as now, to such as would undertake the care thereof. A ‘Robert le Fincher’ occurs at an early period, and I see his descendants are yet in being. As we shall see in a later chapter, this bird has set his mark deeply upon our sobriquet nomenclature. Our ‘Trappers,’ whether for bird or beast, confined their operations to the soil, capturing their spoil by net or gin.

We owe several names, or rather several forms of the same name, to the once favourite pursuit of falconry. Of all sports in the open air this was the one most entirely aristocratic. In it the lord and his lady alike found pleasure. It had become popular so early as the ninth century, and, as Mr. Lower says, in such estimation was the office of State falconer held in Norman times that Domesday shows us, apart from others, four different tenants-in-chief, who are described each as ‘accipitrarius,’ or falconer. Until John’s reign it was not lawful for any but those of the highest rank to keep hawks, but in the ‘Forest Charter’ a special clause was introduced which gave power to every free man to have an aerie. So valuable was a good falcon that it even stood chief among royal gifts, and up to the beginning of the seventeenth century it brought as much as 100 marks in the market.[232] Royal edicts were even passed for the preservation of their eggs. From all this, and much more that might be adduced, it is easy to understand how important was the office of falconer, nor need we wonder that it is one of the most familiar names to be found in early rolls. Of many forms those of ‘Falconer,’ ‘Falconar,’ ‘Faulkner,’ ‘Falkner,’[233] ‘Faulconer,’ and ‘Faukener,’ seem to be the commonest. The last form is found in the ‘Boke of Curtasye’—

The chaunceler answeres for their clothyng,
For yomen, faukeners, and their horsyng,
For their wardrop and wages also.

In our former ‘Idonea or Walter le Oyseler’ we recognise but another French term for the same. A special keeper of the goshawk, or ‘oster,’ got into mediæval records in the shape of ‘William le Astrier,’ or ‘Robert le Ostricer,’ or ‘Richard le Hostriciere,’ or ‘Godfrey Ostriciarius.’ The Latin ‘accipiter’ is believed to be the root of the term, which with such other perverted forms as ‘Ostregier,’ ‘Ostringer,’ ‘Astringer,’ and ‘Austringer,’ lingered on the common tongue till so late as the seventeenth century.[234] A curious proof of the prevailing passion is found in the name of ‘Robert le Jessmaker,’ set down in the Hundred Rolls. The ‘jess’ was the leathern or silken strap fastened closely round the foot of the hawk, from which the line depended and was held by the falconer. That the demand for these should be so great as to cause a man to give himself up entirely to their manufacture, will be the best evidence of the ardour with which our forefathers entered into this pastime. The end of falconry was, however, sudden as it was complete. The introduction of the musket at one fell swoop did away with office, pursuit, with, in fact, the whole paraphernalia of the amusement, and now it is without a relic, save in so far as these names abide with us.

In concluding this part of our subject it is pleasant to remind ourselves that, however strong might be the antagonism which this chapter displays between Norman and Saxon, the pride of the one, the oppression of the other, that antagonism is now overpast and gone. We well know that a revolution was at work, sometimes showing itself violently, but generally silent in its progress, by which happier circumstances arrived, happier at any rate for the country at large. We well know how this consummation came, how these several races became afterwards one by the suppression of that power the more independent of these barons had wielded, by confusion of blood, by the acquisition of more general liberty, by mutuality of interests, by the contagious influences of commerce, and, above all, by the kindly and prejudice-weakening force of lapsing time. All this we know, and, as it is in a sense foreign to our present purpose, I pass over it now. I trust that I have already shown that there is something, after all, in a name; at any rate in a surname, for that in it is supplied a link between the past and the present, for that in the utterance of one of these may be recalled not merely the lineaments of some face of to-day, but the dimmer outline of an age which is past beyond recall for ever. Viewed in a light so broad as this, the country churchyard, with each mossy stone, is, apart from the diviner lessons it teaches, a living page of history; and even the parish register, instead of being a mere record of dry and uninteresting facts, becomes instinct with the lives and surroundings of our English forefathers.

CHAPTER IV.

SURNAMES OF OCCUPATION (COUNTRY).

I now come to the consideration of occupations generally, and to this I think it will be advisable to devote two chapters. One reason for so doing, the main one in fact, is that they seem naturally to divide themselves into two classes—those of a rural character, very numerous at that time on account of agricultural pursuits being so general, and those of a more diverse and I may say civilized kind, bearing upon the community’s life—literature and art, dress, with all its varied paraphernalia, the boudoir and the kitchen. In considering the former, the character of our surnames will give us, I imagine, by no means a bad or ineffective picture of the simplicity of our early rural life, its retirement, and even calm. In shadowing forth the latter, we shall be enabled to see what were the available means of that age, and by the very absence of certain names to realise how numberless have been the resources that discovery has added at a more recent period. It will be well, too, to give two entire chapters to these surnames, as being worthy of somewhat further particularity than the others. They betray much more of our English life that has become obsolete. Local names, as I have said already, while they must ever denote much of change, denote the changes more especially of Nature herself, which are slow in general, and require more than the test of four or five centuries to make their transitions apparent. Personal or Christian names vary almost less than these. The Western European system is set upon the same foundation, and whatever has been peculiar to separate countries has long since, by the intermingling of nations, whether peaceful or revolutionary, been added to the one common stock. Some indeed have fallen into disuse through crises of various kinds. A certain number, too, of a fanciful kind, as we have already seen, have been added within the last two centuries, but these latter have not of course affected our surnames. Nicknames, which form so large a proportion of our nomenclature, remain much the same; for a nation’s tongue, while receiving a constant deposit and throwing off ever a redundant phraseology, still, as a rule, does not touch these; they are taken from the deeper channel of a people’s speech. But the fashion and custom of living is ever changing. New wants spring up, and old requirements become unneeded; fresh resources come to hand, and the more antique are at once despised and thrown aside. In a word, invention and discovery cast their shafts at the very heart of usage. Thus it is that we shall have such a large number of obsolete occupations to recount—occupations which but for our rolls even the oldest and most reliable of our less formal writings would have failed to preserve to us.

It is quite possible for the eye to light upon hamlets in the more retired nooks and crannies of England that have undergone but little change during even the last six centuries, hamlets of which we could say with Goldsmith:—

How often have I paused on every charm,
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,
The never-failing brook, the busy mill,

The decent church that topped the neighbouring hill,

The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,

For talking age and whispering lovers made.

I have seen, or I at least imagined I have seen, such a picture as this; but if there be, this of all times is that in which we must be prepared for a revolution. Our railways are every day but connecting us with the more inaccessible districts, following as they do the curves of our valleys, winding alongside our streams, like nature and art in parallel. As they thus increase they bear with them equally increased facilities for carrying the modernized surroundings and accessories of life on this, on that, and on every hand. Thus usage is everywhere fast giving way before utility, and thus in proportion as art and invention get elbow-room, so does the primitive poetry of our existence fade from view. We can remember villages—there are still such—around which time had flung a halo of so simple aspect, villages whose steads were grouped with so exquisite a quaintness, so utterly and beautifully irregular, so full of unexpected joints and curves, and all so thatched, and embrowned, and trellised, that with the loss of them we have lost a pastoral. There may be indeed a certain poetry in model villas of undeviating line and exact altitude; there may be a beauty in an erection which reminds you in perpetuity of the great Euclidian truth that a straight line is that which lies evenly between its extreme points, but at times it puts one in sober mood to think all the touches of a past time are to fade away, and these be in their stead. How different the tale nomenclature tells us of former rusticity and simpler tastes.

The early husbandman required but little decorative refinement for his homestead. To keep out the cold blast and the driving rain, to have a niche by the fireside comfortable and warm, this was all he asked or wished for. His roof was all but invariably composed of thack or thatch, and every village had its ‘thatcher.’ Busy indeed would he be as the late autumn drew nigh, and stack and stead must be shielded from the keen and chilling winter. The Hundred Roll forms of the surname are ‘Joan le Thaccher’ and ‘Thomas le Thechare;’ the Parliamentary Writs ‘John le Thacher;’ while the more modern directory furnishes us with such changes rung upon the same as ‘Thatcher,’ ‘Thacker’[235] (still a common provincialism for the occupation), and ‘Thackery,’ or ‘Thackeray,’ or Thackwray.’[236] These latter are of course but akin to the old ‘John le Fermery,’ or ‘Richard le Vicary,’ the termination added being the result of popular whim or caprice. Our ‘Readers’ had less to do with book lore than we might have supposed, being but descendants of the mediæval ‘William le Redere,’[237] another term for the same kind of labour. The old ‘Hellier,’ or ‘Helier,’ carries us back to a once well-known root. To ‘hill,’ or ‘hele,’ was to cover, and a ‘hilyer’ was a roofer.[238] Sir John Maundville says with regard to the Tartars, ‘the helynge of their houses, and ... the dores ben alle of woode;’ and John of Trevisa speaks of the English ‘whyt cley and red’ as useful ‘for to make crokkes and other vessels, and barned tyyl to hele with houses and churches.’ Gower, too, uses the word prettily, but perfectly naturally, when he says—

She took up turves (turfs) of the lond,
Withouten help of mannes hond,
All heled with the grene grass.[239]

Amongst other of the many forms that still survive surnominally we have ‘Hillyer,’ ‘Hillier,’ ‘Hellier,’ ‘Hellyer,’ and the somewhat unpleasant ‘Helman’ and ‘Hellman.’ Earlier instances may be found in the Hundred Rolls in such entries as ‘Robert le Heliere’ or ‘Will. Heleman.’ Our ‘Tylers’ are well and quaintly represented in the early rolls. One mediæval spelling of this good old-fashioned name is ‘Tyghelere’ (Adam le Tyghelere, P.W.), while such forms as ‘le Tuglur,’ ‘le Tuler,’ or ‘le Tewler,’ as representatives of the Norman-French vocabulary, meet us on every hand. Whether any of their descendants have had the courage to reproduce any of these renderings I cannot say. I do not find any in our directories. Our ‘Smiths’ have not been quite so qualmish. With the tylers we may fitly introduce our ‘Shinglers,’ they who used the stout oaken wood in the place of burnt clay. Churches were oftentimes so covered. Mr. Halliwell quotes the following somewhat sarcastic couplet:—

Flouren cakes beth the schingles alle

Of cherche, cloister, boure, and halle.

Piers Plowman, too, speaks similarly of Noah’s Ark as the ‘shyngled ship.’[240] All these names have, occupatively speaking, now become obsolete, or nearly so; our ‘Slaters,’ or ‘Sclaters,’ or ‘Slatters,’ having usurped the entire position they were formerly content to share with their humbler brethren.[241]

In the majority of the above names we shall find the Saxon to be in all but whole possession of the field. The fact is, the roof and its appurtenances were little regarded for a long period by our early architects, if we may give such a grand term to those who set up the ordinary homestead of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. There were no chimneys even in the residences of the rich and noble. A hole in the roof, or the window, or the door, one of these, whether in the homes of the peer or the peasant, was the outlet for all obnoxious vapours. With the Normans, however, came a great increase of refinement in the masonry and wooden framework of which our houses are composed. Such names as ‘Adam le Quarreur,’ or ‘Hugh le Quareur,’ ‘Walter le Marbiler,’ or ‘Geoffrey le Merberer,’ ‘Gotte le Mazoun,’ or ‘Walter le Masun,’ or ‘Osbert le Machun’ represent a cultivation of which the earlier settled race, if they knew something, did not avail themselves in their merely domestic architecture. Two of these occupations are referred to by ‘Cocke Lorelle,’ when he speaks of—

Masones, male-makers, and merbelers.[242]

‘Henry le Wallere,’ whose sobriquet was ennobled later on by one of our poets, is the only entry I can set by these as belonging to the Saxon tongue.[243] It is the same with the Norman ‘Amice le Charpenter’ and ‘Alan le Joygnour.’ While the former framed the more solid essentials, the very name of the latter infers a careful supervision of minutiæ, of which only a more refined taste would take cognizance. The descendants of such settlers as these still hold the place they then obtained, and are unchanged otherwise than in the fashion of spelling their name.

Of the plaster work we have a goodly array of memorials, the majority of which, of course, are connected with a higher class work than the mere cottager required. The ordinary term in use at present for a maker of lime is ‘limeburner.’ It is quite possible that in our ‘Limebears’ or ‘Limebeers’ we have but a corruption of this. Such sobriquets as ‘Hugh le Limwryte’ and ‘John le Limer’ give us, however, the more general mediæval forms. The latter is still to be met with among our surnames. But these are not all. We have in our ‘Dawbers’ the descendants of the old ‘Thomas le Daubour,’ or ‘Roger le Daubere,’ of the thirteenth century. ‘Cocke Lorelle,’ whom I have but just quoted, mentions among other workmen—

Tylers, bryckeleyers, hardehewers;

Parys-plasterers, daubers, and lymeborners.

Our ‘Authorised Version’ when it speaks of ‘the wall daubed with untempered mortar,’ still preserves their memorial, and our ‘Plasters’ and ‘Plaisters’ are but sturdy scions of many an early registered ‘Adam le Plastier,’ ‘Joanna le Plaisterer,’ or ‘John le Cementarius.’ The last of this class I would mention is ‘Robert Pargeter’ or ‘William Pergiter,’ a name inherited by our ‘Pargiters’ and ‘Pargeters.’ This was an artisan of a higher order. He laboured, in fact, at the more ornamental plaster work. In the accounts of Sir John Howard, A.D. 1467, is the following entry:—‘Item, the vj day of Aprylle my master made a covenaunt with Saunsam the tylere, that he schalle pergete, and whighte and bemefelle all the new byldynge, and he schalle have for his labore xiijs. ivd.’[244] It is used metaphorically, but I cannot add very happily, in an old translation of Ovid—

Thus having where they stood in vaine complained of their wo,

When night drew neare they bad adue, and eche gave kisses sweete

Unto the parget on their side, the which did never meete.

‘Roger le Peynture’ or ‘Henry le Peintur,’ ‘Ralph le Gilder’ and ‘Robert le Stainer,’ were engaged, I imagine, in the equally careful work of decorating passage and hall within, and all have left offspring enough to keep up their perpetual memorial. Thus, within and without, the house itself has afforded room for little change in our nomenclature, though the artisans themselves have now a very different work to perform to that of their mediæval prototypes. The increase of wealth and a progressive culture have not merely taught but demanded a more careful and refined workmanship in the details of ordinary housebuilding. We may readily imagine, however, even in this early day, how little the simple bondsman, or freer husbandman, had to do with such artisans as even then existed. I do not find, at least the exceptions are of the rarest, that these workmen dwelt in the more rural districts at all. Their names are to be met with in the towns, where the richer tradespeople and burgesses were already beginning to copy the fashions and habits of life of the higher aristocracy.

We have already noticed the ‘town’—how it originally denoted but the simple farmstead with its immediate surroundings, then its gradual enlargement of sense as other steads increased and multiplied around it. We have also seen how the old ‘ham’ or home gathered about it such accessions of human abodes as converted it in time into one of those village communities, so many of which we still find in the outer districts, almost, as I have said, unaltered from their early foundation. It was in these various homesteads dwelt the peasantry. There might be seen our ‘Cotmans’ and ‘Cotters’ (‘Richard Coteman,’ A., ‘Simon le Cotere,’ F.F.), the descendants, doubtless, of the ‘cotmanni’ of Domesday Book. Similar in origin and as humble in degree would be our now numerous ‘Cotterels’ or ‘Cottrels’ (‘William Coterel,’ M., ‘Joice Cotterill,’ Z.), till a comparatively recent period an ordinary sobriquet of that class of our country population. A curious memorial of a past state of life abides with us in our ‘Boardmans,’ ‘Boarders,’ ‘Bordmans,’ and ‘Borders.’ They were the tenants of lands which their lord kept expressly for the maintenance of his table, the rental being paid in kind. Hence our old English law-books speak familiarly of bord-service, or bord-load, or bord-land. The term board in this same sense still lingers on the common tongue, for we are yet wont to use such phrases as bed and board, or a frugal board, or a board plentifully spread. A determinate, as distinct from an unfixed service, has left its mark in our ‘Sockermans,’ ‘Suckermans,’ and ‘Sockmans,’ they who held by socage, or socmanry, as the old law-books have it. Under this tenure, as a condition of the meagre rental, the stout-hearted, thick-limbed rustic was to be ready, as his lord’s adherent, to stand by him in every assault, either as archer, or arbalister, or pikeman—that is, fealty was to eke out the remaining sum which would otherwise have been due. But there were of these Saxon husbandmen some under no such thraldom, however honourable, as this, and of these freeholders we must set as the highest our ‘Yomans’ and ‘Yeomans.’ This term, however, became an official one, and it is doubtful to which aspect of the word we are to refer the present owners of the name. It is possible both features may have had something to do with its origination. How anxious they who had been redeemed, or who had been born free, though of humble circumstances, were to preserve themselves from a doubtful or suspected position such names as ‘Walter le Free’ or ‘John le Freman’ will fully show. We find even such appellatives as ‘Matilda Frewoman’ or ‘Agnes Frewyfe,’ in the latter case the husband possibly being yet in bondage. In our ‘Frys,’ a sobriquet that has acquired much honour of late years and represented in mediæval rolls by such entries as ‘Thomas le Frye’ or ‘Walter le Frie,’ we have but an obsolete rendering of ‘free.’[245] These, as we see, are all Saxon—but Norman equivalents are not wanting. Our ‘Francoms’ or ‘Francombs’ and ‘Frankhams,’ names by no means uncommon in our existing registers, are but Anglicised dresses worn by the posterity of such registered folk as ‘Henry le Franchome,’ or ‘Reginald le Fraunchome,’ or ‘Hugh le Fraunch-humme.’ ‘William le Fraunk,’ too, or ‘Fulco le Franc,’ can boast many a hale descendant in our ‘Franks;’ and ‘Roger le Franklyn’ or ‘John le Fraunkelyn’ in our ‘Franklins,’ a name from henceforth endeared to Englishmen as that of our gallant but lost Arctic hero. From Chaucer’s description of one such we should deem the ‘franklin’ to have been of decidedly comfortable position, a well-to-do householder, in fact.

Withouten bake mete never was his house,
Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous,
It snowed in his hous of mete and drinke
Of all deintees that men coud of thinke:
After the sondry sesons of the yere,
So changed he his mete and soupere.

But we are not without vestiges of the baser servitudes of the time, and in this category we must set the great bulk of the agricultural classes of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The descendants of the old ‘Ivo le Bondes’ and ‘Richard le Bondes’ are still in our midst, and to judge merely from their number then and now enrolled, we see what a familiar position must that of personal bondage have been.

Of alle men in londe

Most toileth the bonde,

says an old rhyme.[246] Still more general terms for those who lay under this miserable serfdom were those of ‘Knave’ or ‘Villein.’ ‘Walter le Knave’ or ‘Lambert le Vilein’ or ‘Philip le Vylayn’ are names registered at the time of which we are speaking. The odium, however, that has gradually gathered around these sobriquets has caused them to be thrown off by the posterity of those who first acquired them as simple bondmen. Indeed, there was the time when, as I shall have occasion to show in a succeeding chapter, our forefathers could speak of ‘Goodknaves’ and ‘Goodvilleins.’ Feudal disdain of all that lay beneath chivalric service, however, has done its work, and we all now speak, not merely as if these terms implied that which was mean and despicable in outward condition, but that which also was morally depraved and vile. ‘Geoffrey le Sweyn’ or ‘Hugh le Sweyn,’ however, by becoming the exponent of honest rusticity, has rescued his sobriquet from such an ill-merited destiny, and has left in many of our ‘Swains’ a token of his mediæval gallantry. ‘John le Hyne’ or ‘William le Hyne’ (found also as Hind), as representative of the country labourer, is equally sure of perpetuity, as the most cursory survey of our directories will prove.[247] Of the ‘Reve’ in the ‘Canterbury Tales,’ we are told:—

There was no bailif, nor herd, nor other hine

That he nor knew his sleight, and his covine.

In the ‘Townley Mysteries,’ too, the word occurs. In the account of the reconciliation betwixt Jacob and Esau the former is made to say:—

God yeld you, brother, that it so is,

That thou thy hyne so would kiss.

In the rural habitations we have mentioned, then dwelt these various members of the lower class community.

The sobriquets we have just briefly surveyed, however, are of a more general character. We must now, and as briefly, scan some of those which in themselves imply the particular service which as rustic labourers their first owners performed, and by which the titles were got. This class is well represented by such a name as ‘Plowman.’ Langland, when he would take from a peasant point of view a sarcastic survey of the low morality of his time, as exemplified in the English Church ere yet she was reformed, could fix upon no better sobriquet than that of ‘Piers Plowman,’ and has thus given a prominence to the name it can never lose. What visions of homely and frugal content we discern in the utterance of such a surname as this; what thoughts of healthy life, such as are becoming rarer with each returning year—

For times are altered—trade’s unfeeling train

Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain.

It was with him at early dawn would issue forth our ‘Tillyers’ or ‘Tillmans,’ to help him cleave the furrow. A little later on we might have seen our ‘Mowers’ and ‘Croppers’[248] hanging up their scythes and sickles, as the autumn, in richly clad garb, passed slowly by. Then again in due season busy enough would be the ‘Dyker,’ now spelt ‘Dicker,’[249] and the ‘Dykeman’ or ‘Dickman.’ With what an enviable appetite would these eat up to the last relic their rasher of bacon and black bread, and quaff their home-brewed ale, a princely feast after the hard toil of draining the field. To dike was merely to dig, the root being the same. Of the kindly plowman Chaucer says—

He would thresh, and thereto dike and delve,
For Christ’s sake, for every poor wight,
Withouten hire, if it lay in his might.

The Malvern dreamer, too, speaks in the same fashion of ‘dikeres and delvers,’ and among other characters introduces to our notice ‘Daw the Dykere,’ ‘Daw’ being, as I have already shown, but the shorter David. Our ‘Drayners,’ I need not add, were but his compeers in the same labour. Perhaps one of the most beautiful features that help to make up a truly English rural landscape is the hedgerows, following the windings of our lanes, and mazy bypaths skirting our meadows. England is eminently a land of enclosures. Still all this has been the result of progressing time. If our pinder be now an obsolete officership it is because the lines of appropriation have become more clearly marked. It is only thus we can understand the importance of his position in every rural community four or five hundred years ago. No wonder, then, our ‘Hedgers’ and ‘Hedgmans’ are to be found whose ancestors were once occupied in setting up these pretty barriers. An old song of James I.’s day says:—

Come all you farmers out of the country,

Carters, ploughmen, hedgers, and all;

Tom, Dick, and Will, Ralph, Roger, and Humphrey,

Leave off your gestures rusticall.[250]

If stakes or pales were used, it is to our ‘Pallisers’ and obsolete ‘Herdleres’ our forefathers looked to set them up. The former term I have but come across once as an absolute surname, but such entries as ‘Robert Redman, palayser,’ or ‘James Foster, palycer,’ are to be met with occasionally, and at once testify to the origin of the term as found in our existing registers. ‘Pallister,’ too, is not obsolete; strictly speaking, the feminine form of the above. I find it written ‘Pallyster’ and ‘Palyster’ in an old Yorkshire inventory. But there is one more term belonging to this group which I am afraid has disappeared from our family nomenclature—that of ‘Tiner,’ he who tined or mended hedges. A ‘John le Tynere’ occurs in the Parliamentary Writs. We are reminded by Verstigan’s book on ‘Decayed Intelligence’ that ‘hedging and tining’ was a phrase in vogue not more than 200 years ago. Mr. Taylor, in his ‘Words and Places,’ connects our ‘tine’ in the ‘tines of a stag’s horns’ or ‘the tines of a fork,’ with the same root implying a ‘twig.’ In our old English forest law a ‘tineman’ was an officer very similar to the ‘hayward,’ the only apparent difference being that he served by night. The two terms are exactly similar in sense. We are not without relics, too, of our former means and methods of enriching the glebe. Even here several interesting memorials are preserved to us. ‘Marler,’[251] ‘Clayer,’ and ‘Chalker’ (‘Alice le Marlere,’ A., ‘Thomas le Chalker,’ A., ‘Simon le Clayere,’ A.), still existing, remind us how commonly the land was manured with marl and other substances of a calcareous nature. Trevisa, writing upon this very subject, says—‘Also in this land (England), under the turf of the land, is good marl found. The thrift of the fatness drieth himself (itself) therein, so that even the thicker the field is marled, the better corn will it bear.’[252] An old rhyme says:—

He that marles sand may buy land;
He that marles moss shall suffer no loss;
But he that marles clay throws all away.

An interesting surname of this class is that of ‘Acreman,’ or, as it is now generally spelt, ‘Acherman,’ ‘Akerman,’ or ‘Aikman,’ for it is far from being of modern German introduction, as some have supposed. In the Hundred Rolls and elsewhere it appears in such entries as ‘Alexander le Acherman,’ ‘Roger le Acreman,’ ‘Peter le Akerman,’ and ‘John le Akurman.’ His was indeed a common and familiar sobriquet, and we are but once more reminded by it of the day when the acre was what it really denoted—the ager, or land open to tillage, without thought of definite or statute measure. Indeed, it is quite possible the term was at first strictly applied thus, for a contemporaneous poem has the following couplet:—

The foules up, and song on bough,

And acremen yede to the plough.

If this be the case the surname is but synonymous with ‘Plowman’ and ‘Tillman,’ already referred to.

A curious name is found in the writs of this period, and one well worthy of mention, that of ‘Adam le Imper.’ An ‘imp,’ I need scarcely remind the reader, was originally a ‘scion’ or ‘offshoot,’ whether of plants or animals, the former seemingly most common, to judge from instances. That nothing more than this was intended by it we may prove by Archbishop Trench’s quotation from Bacon, where he speaks of ‘those most virtuous and goodly young imps, the Duke of Suffolk and his brother.’[253] Chaucer says that of

feble trees their comen wretched imps—

and ‘Piers Plowman’ uses the word still more explicitly—

I was some tyme a frere
And the conventes gardyner
For to graffen impes,

he says. This latter quotation explains the surname. ‘Imper,’ doubtless, simply differed from ‘Gardiner’ or ‘Gardner’ in that he was more particularly engaged in the grafting of young shoots.

From the consideration of the last we may fitly turn to the subject of fruits. There can be no doubt that in early days, so far at least as the south, and more particularly the south-west of England was concerned, the vine was very generally cultivated by the peasantry, and the wine made therefrom, however poor it might be, used by them. So early as Domesday Survey a ‘Walter Vinitor’ lived in Surrey, and a century or two later such names as ‘Symon le Vynur,’ or ‘William le Viner,’ or ‘Roger le Vynour,’ the ancestry of our ‘Viners,’ show that the vine-dresser’s occupation was not yet extinct. We have long left the production of this beverage, however, to the sunnier champaign lands of the Continent, and are content by paying a higher price to get a richer and fuller juice. Our ‘Dressers’ may either belong to this or the curriers’ fraternity. An old poem, which I have already had occasion to quote, says—

In tyme of harvest merry it is enough,
Pears and apples hangeth on bough,
The hayward bloweth merry his horne,
In every felde ripe is corne,
The grapes hongen on the vyne,
Swete is trewe love and fyne.

We have here the mention of pears and apples. The cultivation of these by our ‘Orcharders,’ or ‘de la Orchards,’ or ‘de la Apelyards,’ was a familiar occupation, and ‘le Cyderer,’[254] and ‘le Perriman,’ or ‘Pearman,’ and ‘le Perrer,’ testify readily as to the use to which they were put. The home-made drinks of these early days were almost all sweet. Such decoctions as mead, piment, or hippocras, in the absence of sugar, were mingled with honey. We can at once understand, therefore, what an important pursuit would that be of the bee-keeper.[255] Not merely did the occasional husbandman possess his two or three hives, but there were those who gave themselves up wholly to the tendence of bees, and who made for themselves a comfortable livelihood in the sale of their produce. Many of our surnames still bear testimony to this. ‘Beman,’ or ‘Beeman,’ or ‘Beaman,’ will be familiar to all, and ‘Honeyman’ is scarcely less common. In an old roll of 1183 we have the name Latinised in such an entry as ‘Ralph Custosapium.’ But not merely honey, but spices of all kinds were also infused into these various drinks, whether of wine or ale. We have a well-drawn picture of this in Piers Plowman’s vision where ‘Glutton’ comes across Beton the Brewstere, and the latter bidding him good-morrow, says—

‘I have good ale, gossib,’ quoth she,
‘Glutton, wilt thou assaye?’
‘Hast thou aught in thy purse,’ quoth he;
‘Any hote spices?’
‘I have pepir, and peonies,’ quoth she,
‘And a pound of garleck,
And a farthing-worth of fenel-seed
For fastyng dayes.’

Such an array of hot ingredients as this poor Glutton could not resist, and instead of going to Mass he turned into the tavern, and having supped

A galon and a gille,

of course got uproariously drunk. Thus we see how natural it is we should come across such names as ‘Balmer,’ or ‘le Oyncterer,’ or ‘le Hoincter,’ as it is also registered, or ‘le Garlyckmonger,’ in our early records. The first still exists. The second does not, but the cumbersome and ungainly appearance of the last affords sufficient excuse for its absence. It is quite possible, however, that our ‘Garlicks’ are but a curtailment of it, and this is the more likely, as such forms as ‘Henry le Garleckmonger,’ or ‘Thomas le Garlykmonger,’ are commonly found, and evidently represented an important occupation. The Normans, like the Saxons, loved a highly stimulative dish, and garlic sauce went to everything; bird, beast, fish, all alike found their seasoning in a concoction of which this acrid and pungent herb was the chief ingredient. ‘Roger le Gaderer,’ or as we should now say ‘Gatherer,’ has left no descendant, but he may be mentioned as representing a more general term for many of the above.

In the woodlands and its open glades and devious windings, where several of these herbalists I have mentioned would be often found, we shall see, too, other frequenters. It would be here, subject to the condition of agistment and pannage, our ‘Swinnarts,’ or swineherds, tended their hogs. It would be here by the hazel bank and deeper forest pathways our ‘Nutters’ and ‘Nutmans’ would be found, as the autumn began to set in, and browner and more golden tints to fleck the trees and hedgerows. It would be here, as the chills of early winter drew on, and the fallen leaves lay strewn around, our ‘Bushers’ or ‘Boshers’ (relics of the old ‘John le Busscher’ or ‘Reginald le Buscher’), and our more Saxon ‘Thomas le Woderes,’ ‘Robert Wudemongers,’ and ‘Alan le Wodemans’ (now ‘Woodyers’ and ‘Woodmans’), would be occupied in gathering the refuse branches for firing purposes—here our ‘Hewers’ (once found as ‘Ralph le Heuer’) and more specific ‘Robert le Wodehewers,’[256] our ‘Hackers’ and ‘Hackmans,’ would be engaged in chopping timber, perchance for building purposes, perchance for our ‘Ashburners,’[257] to procure their potash from. Oftentimes, no doubt, would these various frequenters of the woodland boscage be roused from their rude labours to watch as the hornblower (now ‘Hornblow’) awoke the shrill echoes, the lordly chase sweep through the glade till it was hidden by the embrasures of the forest, or the darkening twilight, or the bending hill.

One single glance backward over the names we have so far recorded in this chapter, and one thing will be obvious—their all but entirely Saxon character. Our agriculture terms, whether with regard to the work itself or the labourer, belong to the earlier tongue. There is nothing surprising in this. While in the nomenclature of trade we find the superior force and energy of the Norman temperament struggling with and oftentimes overcoming the more sober humour of the conquered race, in the country and all the pursuits of the country the latter was far ahead of its rival. It was better versed in agricultural pursuits, and ever retained them in its own hands. At the same time, as we well know, this very detention was but the mark of its defeat and the badge of its slavery. It was a victory where, nevertheless, all is lost. Wamba the jester, in ‘Ivanhoe,’ if I may be excused such a trite illustration, reminds us that our cattle, while in the field, and under the guardianship of the enslaved Saxon, were called by the Saxon terms of ‘ox,’ ‘sheep,’ and ‘calf,’ but served upon the tables of their lords became Norman ‘beef,’ ‘mutton,’ and ‘veal’—that is, while the former fed them, the latter it was that fed on them. Thus in the same way, if those homely pursuits which attached to the tilling of the soil, the breeding of cattle, the gathering in and the storing of the harvest—if these maintained the terms which belonged to them ere the Conquest, they are so many marks of serfdom. Provided the supply on his board was only profuse enough, the proud baron troubled himself little as to the supplier, or how or under what names it was procured. See how true this is from our nomenclature. There is a little word which has dropped from our lips which once played an important part in our vocabulary—I mean that of ‘herd’—not as applied to the flock, but the keeper. We still use it familiarly in compounds, such as swineherd or shepherd, but that it once had a separate existence of its own is proved by the many ‘Heards,’ or ‘Herds,’ or ‘Hurds,’ that still abound surnominally in our midst; relics as they are of the ‘John le Hirdes,’ or ‘Alice la Herdes,’ or ‘Robert le Hyrdes,’ of our olden records. Chaucer so uses it. We now speak of our Lord as the ‘Good Shepherd.’ He, however, gives us the simpler form where St. Urban is made to say—

‘Almighty Lord, O Jesu Christ,’ quoth he,

‘Sower of chaste counsel, herd of us all.’

Thus again, in the ‘Townley Mysteries’ the angel who visited the shepherds as they kept their flocks by night is represented as arousing them by saying—

Herkyn, hyrdes, awake!

See now the many compounds of which this purely Saxon word is the root. Are we in the low-lying pastures. In our ‘Stotherds’ and ‘Stothards,’ our ‘Stoddarts’ and ‘Stoddards,’ still clings the remembrance of the old stot or bullock-herd; in our ‘Yeatherds’ (as in our ‘Yeatmans’), the heifer herd; and in our ‘Cowards,’ far from being so pusillanimous as they look, the homely ‘cowherd.’ In ‘William and the Werfolf’ we are told—

It bifel in that forest
There fast byside,
There woned (dwelt) a wel old churl
That was a couherde.

Nor are these all. In our ‘Calverts’ and ‘Calverds’ we are reminded of the once well-known ‘Warin le Calveherd,’ or ‘William le Calverd,’ as I find him recorded; in our ‘Nuttards’ the more general but now faded ‘neteherd’ or ‘noutherd,’[258] and in our obsolete ‘John Oxenhyrds’ and ‘Peter Oxherds,’ the familiar ox. Are we in the grazing paddock. In our ‘Coultherds,’ ‘Coulthards,’ and ‘Coultards’ (‘John Colthird,’ W. 9), not to mention our ‘Coultmans’ and ‘Coltmans,’ we have ample trace of their presence. Are we again on the bleak hill-side. The sheep have given us our ‘Shepherds,’ the rams our ‘Wetherherds’ (now generally written ‘Weatherheads’), the kids our ‘Gottards,’ not to say some of our ‘Goddards,’ memorials of the once common goatherd. Are we under the woodland pathways where the beech-nuts abound. There, too, the herd was to be found, for in our ‘Swinnarts,’ ‘Hoggarts,’ and ‘Sowards’ we are not without a further token of his usefulness. In three instances I have found ‘herd’ connected with the winged creation. In the Parliamentary Writs occurs ‘William le Swonherde,’ in the Corpus Christi Guild (Surt. Soc.), ‘Agnes Gusehyrd’ and ‘Joan Gusehyrd,’ and in the Hundred Rolls ‘Henry le Rocherde,’ i.e., rook-herd.[259] ‘Swanherd’ reminds us that swans were an important article of diet in early times. In 1482 an Act was passed forbidding any but freeholders (and they only if they had lands of the annual value of five marks) to have marks or games of swans. (‘Stat. Realm,’ vol. ii. p. 447.)

It will have already become clear to the reader that this term ‘herd’ played no unimportant part in the vocabulary of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. But even now we have not done. For instance, our ‘Stobbarts’ and ‘Stubbards’ are manifestly descendants of such a name as ‘Alice Stobhyrd’ or ‘Thomas Stobart,’ the owners of both of which are set down in the Black Book of Hexham Priory in company with ‘John Stodard,’ ‘William Oxhyrd,’ and ‘Thomas Schipherde.’[260] I should have been in some difficulty in regard to the meaning of this ‘stob’ or ‘stub’ had not Mr. Halliwell in his dictionary of archaic words given it as an old rural term for a bull. This surname, therefore, is satisfactorily accounted for. I cannot be quite so positive with regard to our ‘Geldards’ and ‘Geldarts,’ but I strongly suspect their early ancestor was but a confrère of the swineherd or hogherd, ‘gelt,’ or ‘geld,’ as a porcine title, being a familiar word to our forefathers of that date. Our ‘Gattards’ and ‘Gathards,’ too, may be mentioned as but mediævalisms for the goatherd, ‘Gateard’ and ‘Gatherd’ being met with in North English records contemporaneously with the above. Such a sobriquet as ‘Adam le Gayt,’ while it may be but a form of the old ‘wayt’ or watchman, is, I imagine, but representative of this northern provincialism. It occurs locally in ‘William de Gatesden’ or ‘John de Gatesden,’ both found in the Parliamentary Writs. With two more instances I will conclude. In our ‘Hunnards’ still lives the memory of ‘Helyas le Hunderd,’ the old houndsman, while in ‘Richard le Wodehirde’ or ‘William le Wodehirde’ we have but another, though more general, sobriquet of one of those many denizens of the forest I have already hinted at. How purely Saxon are all these names! What a freshness seems to breathe about them! What a fragrance as of the wild heather and thyme, and all that is sweet and fresh and free! And yet they are but so many marks of serfdom.

I have just incidentally referred to the swineherd. It is difficult for us, in this nineteenth century of ours, to conceive the vast importance of this occupation in the days of which we are writing. Few avocations have so much changed as this. Hog-tending as a distinct livelihood is well-nigh extinct. Time was, however, when the rustic community lived upon bacon, when the surveillance of swine was a lazy, maybe, but nevertheless an all-important care. We still speak of a ‘flitch of bacon,’ a term which, while etymologically the same as ‘flesh,’ shows how to the early popular mind that article represented the sum total of carnal luxuries. Our use of the word ‘brawn’ is of an equally tell-tale character. Every one knows what we mean by brawn. Originally, however, it was the flesh of any animal. Chaucer says—

The Miller was a stout carl for the nones,

Full big he was of brawn, and eke of bones.

When, however, the wild boar had been brought down, and salted, and put aside for winter use, how natural that to the housewife it should engross this general sense. It is to the importance this unsavoury-looking animal held in the eyes of early rustics we must attribute the fact of so many names coming down to us connected with its keep. As I have just hinted, such sobriquets as ‘John le Swineherd’ or ‘Nicholas le Hogherd’ were common enough in the country parts, our ‘Swinnarts’ and ‘Hoggarts’ being witnesses. The sowherd remains in our ‘Sowards,’ and is as Saxon as the others. The same tongue is strong again in our ‘Pigmans’ ‘Sowmans,’ ‘Hogmans,’ and still more secluded ‘Denyers’ and ‘Denmans.’ The Norman, however, is to be accredited with our many ‘Gilbert le Porchers’ and ‘Thomas le Porkeres,’ by which we may see that when daintily served up under the name of ‘pork’ it was not disdained on the baron’s table. Lastly, we may mention our early ‘Philip le Lardiners’ and ‘Hugh le Lardiners,’ names that in themselves suggest to us the one purpose of the herdsman, the fattening of his charge. They would be found generally, therefore, neath the fastnesses of the forest, where the

Oak with his nuts larded many a swine,

and where the mast and beech-nuts abounded, the chief pannage, it would seem, of that day.[261] Higher up, as far indeed as the bleak and barren wolds, the shepherd cared for and tended his flock. His was a common occupation, too, as our nomenclature shows. Evidently he was as prone in those days to the oaten reed as the poets of all ages have loved to depict him, for it is to his Norman-introduced name of ‘Berger’ we owe the ‘bergeret,’ or pastoral ode. The song indeed, so called, has died away from our ears, but ‘Berger,’ or ‘Bercher,’ as it was often written, still lives, and may carry us back for a moment to these wholesomer times.

Nor, if we approach more closely to the farmyard enclosure, are we without memorials. The farm of old, as applied to the soil, was of course that piece of land which was rented for agricultural purposes, and I doubt not the chief of the old ‘Robert le Fermers’ and ‘Matilda le Fermeres’ represent this more confined sense. ‘Farmer,’ whether colloquially or in our registers, is the modern form. Udal, however, maintains the more antique dress, when he says, ‘And that the thyng should so be, Chryst Hymself had signyfied to fore by the parable of the husbandmen or fermers.’

While ‘herd,’ as a root-word, implied the tendance of cattle in the meadows and woods and on the hillsides, ‘man,’ I suspect, was equally significative of their guardianship in the stable and the yard. Thus if the ‘cowherd’ was in the field, the ‘cowman’ would be in the stall. We may here, therefore, set our familiar ‘Cowmans,’ ‘Bullmans,’ ‘Heiffermans,’ and ‘Steermans,’ or ‘Stiermans.’[262] One or two provincialisms, I imagine, have added also to this stock. Mr. Lower thinks our ‘Twentymans’ to be derived from ‘Vintenarius,’ a captain of twenty. This may be so, but I suspect the more correct origin will be found in ‘twenterman’ or ‘twinterman,’ he who tended the ‘twenters’ or ‘twinters,’ the old and once familiar ‘two-winter,’ or, as we now generally say, ‘two-year-old.’ If the ‘steer,’ the ‘heifer,’ the ‘cow,’ and the ‘bull’ gave a sobriquet to the farm labourer, why not this? As a farmyard term it occurs in every provincial record of the fifteenth and even sixteenth century. Thus, to quote but one instance, I find in a will dated 1556 mention made of ‘6 oxen, item, 18 sterres (steers), item, 11 heifers, item, 21 twenters, item, 23 stirks.’ (Richmondshire Wills, p. 93.) An inventory of the same date includes ‘3 kye, item, one whye.’ This latter term was equally commonly used at this period for a ‘heifer.’ Our ‘Whymans’ and ‘Wymans’ will, we may fairly surmise, be their present memorial. ‘Cowman,’ mentioned above, was met by the Norman ‘Vacher,’ such entries as ‘John le Vacher’ or ‘Walter le Vacher’ being common, and as ‘Vacher,’ or more corruptly ‘Vatcher,’ it still abides in our midst. ‘Thomas le Stabeler,’ or ‘William le Stabler,’ too, are yet with us; but descendants for ‘Thomas le Milkar’ or ‘William le Melker’ are, I fear, wanting. A Norman representative for these latter is found in the Parliamentary Writs in the case of ‘John le Lacter.’ There is the smack of a kindred labour in the registered ‘Thomas le Charner,’ for I doubt not his must have been but an antique dress of ‘Churner.’ Another form is found in an old Richmondshire will dated 1592, where mention is made of ‘Robert Chirner’ and his sister ‘Jane Chirner.’ As an additional proof that his occupation was such as I have surmised, I may add that in the same record in the valuation of household property the churn is spelt chirne. (Richmondshire Wills, p. 235, note.) The most interesting sobriquet of this class, and the one which has left the most memorials, is found in such mediæval names as ‘Cecilia le Day,’ or ‘Christiana la Daye,’ or ‘Stephen le Dagh.’ A ‘day’ was a dairyman, of which word it is but another form. Chaucer, in one of the most charming of his descriptions, tells us of a poor widow, how that she—

Since that day that she was last a wife
In patience led a ful simple life,
For litel was her cattle, and her rent:
By husbandry of such as God her sent
She found herself and eke her doughtren two.
————

Her board was served most with white and black,

Milk and brown bread, in which she found no lack,

Singed bacon, and sometimes an egg or twey,

For she was as it were a maner dey.[263]

The present representatives of this name are met with in the several forms of ‘Deye,’ ‘Daye,’ ‘Day,’ ‘Dayman,’ and the more unpleasantly corrupted ‘Deman.’

It is quite evident, judging from the places of abode in which we find our early ‘Fishers’ and ‘Fishermans,’ that it is to followers, though professional, of the quaint and gentle-minded Izaac Walton we owe our many possessors of these names, rather than to the dwellers upon the coast, although both, doubtless, are represented. Such entries as ‘Margaret le Fischere,’ or ‘Henry le Fissere,’ or ‘Robert le Fiscere’ are very common. This latter seems a sort of medium between the others and such a more hard form as ‘Laurence le Fisker.’ The finny species themselves gave us such sobriquets as ‘John le Fysche’ or ‘William Fyske,’ and both ‘Fish’ and ‘Fisk’ still exist amongst us. The Norman angler is seen in ‘Godard le Pescher’ or ‘Walter le Pecheur,’ while ‘Agnes le Pecheresse’ bespeaks the fact that even women did not disdain the gentle art.

But the moment we hint of the village streamlet we are thrown upon a subject vast indeed—the mill and the miller. He was emphatically, you see, the miller. Even now, in these busy grasping days, when we have cotton mills and saw mills, silk mills and powder mills, mills for this and mills for that, still it never occurs to us, when we talk of the miller, that any one could possibly mistake our meaning. And well may it be so, for it is with him we entwine pleasant remembrances of the country, the wheel, the stream, the lusty dimpled trout; with him we associate all of comfortable, peaceful content. A white jacket and a white cap, with a black coat for Sundays—how black it would look to be sure—a bluff, good-humoured face, a friendly nod, and a blithe good-morrow, up early and to bed betimes, and his memoir is written, and a very pleasant memoir, too, with a moral to boot for discontented folk, would they but see it. The old word for mill was ‘milne,’ hence we still have the earlier form, ‘Milnes’ and ‘Milner’ being nearly as familiar to us in that respect as ‘Mills’ and ‘Miller.’ Besides these we have ‘Milman’ and ‘Milward,’ who once, no doubt, acted as custodian, the modern ‘man on the premises,’ in fact.[264] The ancestry of all these is proved by such registered forms as ‘John le Mellere,’ ‘William le Melner,’ ‘Robert le Milleward,’[265] ‘John del Mill,’ or ‘Thomas atte Milne,’ all of which are found scattered over our earlier rolls.[266] Our ‘Threshers’ and ‘Taskers’ (Benedict le Tasker,’ H.R.) busied themselves in urging the flail. I have only lit upon the latter term once as in ordinary colloquial use. Burton in the preface to his ‘Anatomy’ says—‘many poor country-vicars, for want of other means, are driven to their shifts,’ and ‘as Paul did, at last turn taskers, maltsters, costermongers, graziers, etc.’[267] Our ‘Winners,’ shortened from ‘Winnower,’ winnowed the grain with the fan; our ‘Boulters’ or ‘Bulters,’[268] ‘Siviers’ and ‘Riddlers,’ (‘Geoffrey le Boltere,’ A., ‘William Rydler,’ Z., ‘Ralph le Siviere,’ A.), still more carefully separated the flour from the bran. How beautifully Shakespeare presses this into his imagery many will remember, where Florizel speaks of—

The fanned snow that’s bolted

By the northern blasts twice o’er.

Our Bible translators, too, must have yet been familiar with the simpler process of this earlier time when they rendered one of the prophet’s happier foretellings into the beautiful Saxon we still possess:—‘The oxen likewise, and the young asses that ear the ground shall eat clean provender, which hath been winnowed with the shovel and with the fan.’ The manufacture or use of the fan wherewith to purge the flour made our ‘Walter le Vanners,’ ‘Simon le Fanneres,’ ‘Richard atte Vannes,’ or ‘William atte Fannes,’ familiar names at this time. In Cocke Lorelle’s Bote, we find among other craftsmen—

Barbers, bokebynders, and lymners;

Repers, faners, and horners.

We must not forget, too, our ‘Shovellers’ and more common ‘Showlers,’ ‘showl’ being ever the vulgar form. It was for no purpose of rhyme, only the word is so used where we are asked—

‘Who’ll dig his grave?’

‘I,’ said the owl; ‘with my spade and showl

I’ll dig his grave.’

With these many reminders, it is not likely that either the miller or his men are likely to become soon forgotten.

The smithy, of course, was an inseparable adjunct to the small community. The smith, unlike the wright, was engaged upon the harder metals, the latter being incidentally described to us by Chaucer when he says of one of his personages in the Reeves Story, that—

He was a well good wright, a carpenter.

Looking at the many compounds formed from these two roots, we find that in the main this distinction is maintained. Let us take the wright first. We have but just mentioned ‘Ralph le Siviere,’ or ‘Peter le Syvyere.’ For him our ‘Sivewrights’ were manifestly occupied, to say nothing of the farmer’s wife. The farmer himself would need the services of our ‘Plowwrights’ (‘William le Plowritte,’ A., ‘William le Ploughwryte,’ M.), and would he carry his produce safely to the distant market or fair he must needs have a good stout wain, for the track athwart the hillside was rough and uneven, and here therefore he must call into requisition the skill of our many ‘Wheelwrights,’ or ‘Wheelers,’ ‘Cartwrights’ and their synonymous ‘Wainwrights.’[269] Adding to these ‘Boatwright,’ or ‘Botwright,’ ‘Shipwright,’ and the obsolete ‘Slaywright,’ the old loom manufacturer, we see wood to have been the chief object at least of the wright’s attention. But we have other names of a different character. ‘Limewright’ or ‘Limer’ (‘Hugh le Limwryte,’ A., ‘John le Limer,’ A.) ceases to maintain this distinction, so do our ‘Glasswrights,’ equivalent to our ‘Glaziers’ or ‘Glaishers’ (‘Thomas le Glaswryghte,’ X., ‘Walter Glasenwryht,’ W. ii., ‘William Glaseer,’ Z.).[270] ‘Le Cheesewright,’ or ‘Chesswright,’ like ‘Firminger’ and ‘Casier,’ brings us once more into the scullery, and ‘Breadwright’ into the kitchen. ‘Alwright’ is doubtless but the old ‘alewright,’ and ‘Goodwright,’ which Mr. Lower deems to be a maker of goads, I cannot but imagine to be simply complimentary, after the fashion of many others which I shall mention in another chapter. Our ‘Tellwrights’ or ‘Telwrights’ have given me much trouble, and though at first I did not like it, I think Mr. Lower’s suggestion that they have arisen from the Pauline occupation of tent-making is a natural one. ‘Teld’ was the old English word for a tent. In the metrical Anglo-Saxon Psalter the fourteenth psalm thus commences—

Lord, in thi teld wha sal wone (dwell)?

In thi hali hille or wha reste mone (shall)?

We still speak of a ‘tilt’ when referring to the cover of a cart or wagon, or to any small awning of a boat. It is quite possible, therefore, that the name has originated in the manufacture of such canopies as these. Admitting this, I would merely suggest ‘Tilewright’ as requiring but little corruptive influence to bring it into the forms in which we at present find the word.[271] Should this be the case, we must place it with ‘le Tyler,’ of whom we have but recently spoken. ‘Arkwright’ I mention last as being worthy of more extended notice. In this is preserved the memory of a once familiar and all-important piece of cabinet furniture—that of the old-fashioned ark. Much store was set by this long years ago by the north-country folk, as is shown by the position it occupies in antique wills, often being found as the first legacy bequeathed.[272] Shaped exactly like the child’s Noah’s ark, it seems to have had a twofold character. In one it was simply a meal-bin. Thus in the ‘Tale of a Usurer’ we are told:—

When this corn to the kniht was sold,
He did it in an arc to hold,
And opened this arc the third day.

In the other it was more carefully put together. The trick of its secret spring, known only to the housewife and her lord—sometimes I dare say, only to the latter—it contained all the treasure the family could boast. Here were kept what parchments they possessed; here lay stored up fold on fold of household linen, venerated by the female inmates nearly as much as the grandmothers themselves, whose thrifty fingers had woven it in days long past and gone. We see thus that upon the whole the wright wrought his manufacture out of his own more specific material, seldom, at any rate, poaching upon the preserves of his friend the smith. The smith worked in iron and the metals. This good old Saxon name, with the many quaint changes that have been rung upon it, deserves a whole chapter to itself. How then can we hope to do justice to it in a few sentences? We do not know where to begin, and having once begun, the difficulty at once arises as to where we can end. How few of us reflect upon the close connexion that exists between the anvil and the smith himself, and yet it is because he smote thereupon that he got his name. As old Verstigan has it:—

From whence comes Smith, all be he knight or squire,

But from the smith that forgeth at the fire?

Putting in all the needs which in this agricultural age his occupation would be necessary to supply, still we could scarcely account for the enormous preponderance he has attained over other artisans, did we not remember that his services would also be required in the production of warlike implements. Sword and ploughshare alike would be to his hands. Chaucer speaks of:—

The smith

That forgeth sharpe swords on the stith.

Between and including the years 1838 and 1854 there were registered as born, or married, or dead, no less than 286,307 Smiths. Were we indeed to put into one community the persons who bear this name in our land, we should have a town larger than Leeds, and scarcely inferior in size and importance to that of the capital of the midland counties.

The smith is often spoken of colloquially as the blacksmith, a title which, while it has not itself a place in our nomenclature, reminds us of others that have, and of a peculiar custom of earlier days. The word ‘blacksmith’ dates from the days of ‘Cocke Lorelle’s Bote,’ and it is quite evident that at that time it was customary for the smith to have his name compounded with sobriquets according to the colour of the metal upon which he spent his energies. Thus the former ‘Thomas Brownesmythe’ evidently worked in copper and brass, ‘William le Whytesmyth’ in tinplate, ‘John Redesmith’ in gold, a ‘Goldsmith’ in fact; ‘Richard Grensmythe’ in I am not sure what, unless it be lead; and ‘John Blackesmythe’ in iron. The last is the only one I fail to discover as now existing among our surnames—a circumstance, however, easily accounted for from the settled position the simple ‘Smith’ himself had obtained as an artificer of that metal. But these are not the only compounds. Our ‘Smiths’ are surrounded with connexions of not merely every hue, but every type. Thus ‘Arrowsmith,’ already alluded to with its contracted ‘Arsmith,’ tells its own tale of archery service; ‘Billsmith’ and ‘Spearsmith’ remind us of the lances, or rather lance heads, that did such duty in the golden days of Agincourt and Poictiers. Of a more peaceful nature would be the work of our ‘Nasmyths,’ like our ‘Naylors,’ mere relics of the old nailsmith. Closely connected with them, therefore, we may set our ‘Shoosmiths,’[273] but Saxon representatives of the Norman-introduced ‘Farrier.’ The surname still clings chiefly to the north of England, where the Saxon, retaining so much more of its strength and vigour than in the south, preserved it as the occupative term for centuries. Springtide and the approach of sheep-washing would see our ‘Sheersmiths’ busy, while the later autumn would have its due effect upon the trade of our ‘Sixsmiths’ and ‘Sucksmiths,’ pleasant though curiously corrupted memorials of the old sicklesmith, or ‘Sykelsmith,’ as I find the name spelt. The bucklesmith (‘John le Bokelsmythe,’ X.), whose name is referred to in the poem I have but recently quoted, has similarly and as naturally curtailed himself to ‘Bucksmith.’[274] Our ‘Bladesmiths’ fashioned swords, being found generally in fellowship with our ‘Cutlers’ and obsolete ‘Knyfesmythes.’ Our ‘Locksmiths,’ of course, looked to the security of door, and closet, and cupboard;[275] while our ‘Minsmiths’ (‘John le Mynsmuth,’ M.), for I believe they are not as yet quite obsolete, hard at work in the mint smithy, forged the coin for the early community. As, however, I shall have occasion to refer to him again I shall merely cite him, and pass on.[276] But we may see from the little I have said that the smith never need fear obsoletism. Apart from his own immediate circle, he is surrounded by many, if not needy, yet closely attached relatives. We must not forget, however, that the Norman had his smith, too, and though the Saxon, as we have thus seen, has ever maintained his dignity and position, still our early rolls are not without a goodly number of ‘Adam le Fevres,’ ‘Richard le Fevers,’ or ‘Reginald le Feures,’ and their cognate ‘Alan le Ferons’ and ‘Roger le Feruns.’ Representatives of all these, minus the article, may be readily met with to-day in any of the large towns of our country.

We may take this opportunity of saying a word about lead, inasmuch as the uses to which it was put made the manufacturer therein familiar to rural society. The leadbeater, in fact, was all-important to the farmer’s wife and the dairy, for the vessels which held the milk, as it underwent its various processes until it was turned out into butter, were commonly his handiwork. Such names as ‘Gonnilda le Leadbetre,’ or ‘Reginald le Ledbeter,’ we find in every considerable roll, and our modern ‘Leadbeaters,’ ‘Ledbetters,’ ‘Leadbitters,’ ‘Lidbetters,’ and probably ‘Libertys,’ are but their descendants. That mixture of lead with brass or copper which went by the term of ‘latten’ or ‘laton’ has left in our ‘Latoners’ and ‘Latners’ a memorial of the metal of which our old country churchyard tablets were made, not to say some of the household utensils just referred to. We find even more costly and ornamental ware manufactured of this, for among other relics preserved by the pardoner, Chaucer tells us:—

He had a gobbet (piece) of the sail
That seint Peter had, when that he went
Upon the sea, till Jesu Christ him hent.
He had a cross of laton, full of stones,
And in a glass he had pig’s bones.

Such a name then as ‘Thomas le Latoner’ or ‘Richard le Latoner’ would be well understood by our forefathers.

But we must not wander. In nothing does our nomenclature bequeath us a more significant record than in that which relates to the isolation of primitive life. We who live in such remarkable days of locomotive appliance cannot possibly enter into the difficulties our forefathers had to encounter in regard to intercommunication. An all but impassable barrier separated our villages from the larger and distant towns. The roads, or rather, not to dignify them by such a term, the tracks,[277] were sometimes scarce to be recognised, everywhere rough and dangerous. Streams, oftentimes much swollen, must be forded. Where bridges existed our ‘Bridgers’ and ‘Bridgemans’ took the king’s levy; where none were to be found our ‘Ferrimans’ rendered their necessary aid. The consequent difficulties with regard to conveyance were great. The larger of the county towns carried on but an uncertain and irregular communication, while the remoter villages were wholly dependent either on the travelling trader or peddler, or on the great fair, as it came round in its annual course. What a stock of goods would be laid in by the bustling wife, and the farmer himself on this latter occasion! Imagine them starting forth to lay in a supply for a whole year’s wants. No wonder the good, sound cob and the stout wagon it drew are remembered in our surnames. Of the importance of the former such names as ‘Horsman,’ if it be not official, and ‘Palfreyman,’ or ‘Palfriman,’ not to mention ‘Asseman,’ are good witnesses. Such entries as ‘Agnes le Horsman,’ or ‘Roger le Palefreyour,’ or ‘John le Palfreyman’ are familiar to every early register. Our ‘Tranters’ and ‘Traunters’ are but relics of the old ‘Traventer,’ he who let out posthorses. In process of time, however, he got numbered among the many itinerant peddlers or carriers, of whom I shall speak shortly. Bishop Hall, in one of his Satires, says—

And had some traunting chapman to his sire,

That trafficked both by water and by fire,

Our ‘Corsers’[278] or ‘Cossers,’ too, little altered from the former ‘le Corsour,’ represent, as did the obsolete ‘Horsmonger,’ the dealer in horseflesh. Another branch of this occupation is represented by our ‘Runchemans,’ ‘Runcimans,’ or ‘Runchmans.’ They dealt in hackney-horses, ‘rounce’ or ‘rouncie’ being the then general term for such. Chaucer’s ‘Shipman’ was mounted upon one—

For aught I wot, he was of Dertemouth,

He rode upon a rouncie, as he couthe.

It was, however, a term applied in common to all manner of horses, and it is quite possible the names given above must be classed simply with ‘Horseman’ and such like. Brunne, in describing Arthur’s Coronation, mentions among other his gifts—

Good palfreys he gave to clerks
Bows and arrows he gave archers,
Runces good unto squiers.[279]

In such grand-looking entries as ‘William le Charreter,’ or ‘John le Caretter,’ or ‘Andrew le Chareter,’[280] we should now scarce recognise the humble ‘Carter,’ but so is he commonly set down in the thirteenth century, our ‘cart’ itself being nothing more than the old Norman-French ‘charette,’ so familiarized to us by our present Bible version as ‘chariot.’ This in the edition of 1611 even was spelt after the old fashion as ‘charet.’ Our ‘Charters’ are evidently but relics of the fuller form, a ‘John le Charter’ appearing in the Parliamentary Writs.[281] ‘Char,’ the root of ‘charet,’ still remains with us as ‘car.’ In ‘Cursor Mundi’ it is said—

Nay, sir, but ye must to him fare,

He hath sent after thee his chare.

Gower, too, has the word—

With that she looked and was war,
Doun fro’ the sky ther cam a char,
The which dragons aboute drew.

This was used by people of rank as a fashionable vehicle for purposes of pleasure; oftentimes, too, by ladies.[282] Corresponding with the other, the driver of such was ‘John le Charer’ or ‘Richard le Charrer,’ the present existing forms in our directories being ‘Charman’ and ‘Carman.’[283] ‘Cartman,’ I need not add, is also found as well as ‘Carter.’ All these terms, however, are from the Norman vocabulary. The Saxon word in general use was ‘wagon’ or ‘wain,’ the conductor of which now dwells in our midst as ‘Wagoner’ or ‘Wagner,’ and ‘Wainman’ or ‘Wenman.’ ‘Charles Wain’ or the ‘Churls Wain’ is the name that constellation still bears, and which has clung to it, in spite of the Norman, since the day, a thousand years and more, that the Saxon so likened it. As in the case of so many other double words representative of our twofold language, these two separate terms have come now to denote their own specialty of vehicle, and it is even possible that so early as the day in which ‘le Wainwright’ and ‘le Cartwright’ took their rise this distinction had already begun to exist. It is thus our English language has become so rich, this sheep-and-mutton redundancy of which Walter Scott in his ‘Ivanhoe’ has so well reminded us. ‘Richard le Drivere’ or ‘John le Drivere’ of course must be placed here, not to mention an ‘Alice le Driveress,’ who figures in the Hundred Rolls.

Of such consequence was it that the horse-gear should be carefully put together that it occupied the full attention of several different artisans. Such names as ‘Benedict le Sporier,’ or ‘Alan le Lorymer,’ or ‘Nicholas le Lorimer,’ are found in every considerable roll of the period, and they still exist. The one of course looked to the rowel, the other to the bit. ‘John le Sadeler’ needs little explanation, his posterity being still alive to speak in his behalf. The old Norman-introduced word for a saddle was ‘sell,’ and that it lingered on for a considerable period is shown by Spenser’s use of it, where he says—

And turning to that place, in which whyleare
He left his loftie steed with golden sell,
And goodly gorgeous barbes.

Every mediæval roll has its ‘Warin le Seler’ or ‘Thomas le Seller.’[284] The pack-saddle was of such importance that it required a special manufacturer, and this it had in our now somewhat rare ‘Fusters’ or ‘Fewsters.’[285] In his ‘Memorials of London,’ Mr. Riley mentions a ‘Walter Polyt, fuyster’ (p. xxii.). A fuster was, strictly speaking, a joiner employed in the manufacture of the saddle-bow, that is, the wooden framework of the old saddle. It is derived from the French ‘fust,’ wood, and that from the late Latin ‘fustis.’ Our ‘Shoosmiths,’ as I have before hinted, made the horseshoe, while ‘John le Mareshall,’ or ‘Ranulph le Marescal,’ or ‘Osbert le Ferrur,’ or ‘Peter le Ferrour,’ fitted it to the foot. The modern forms are simple ‘Marshall,’ and ‘Ferrier,’ or ‘Ferrer.’ In the ‘Boke of Curtasye’ it is said—

For eche a hors that ferroure schalle scho,

An halpeny on day he takes hym to.

Nothing could be more natural than that the shoeing-forge should become associated with the doctoring of horseflesh, but it is somewhat strange that when we now speak of a farrier we recognise in this old term[286] simply and only the horse-leech. So full of changes are the lives of words, as well as places and people.

A curious insight into mediæval travel is presented to our notice in our ‘Ostlers’ and ‘Oastlers’ and ‘Oslers,’ relics of such old registries as ‘Ralph le Hostiler’ or ‘William le Ostiller.’ This term, once applied, as it rightly should, to the ‘host’ or ‘hosteller’ himself, has now become confined to the stableman, thus incidentally reminding us how important this part of the hostel duties would be at such a time as I am endeavouring to describe. The idea of the hosteller being one whose especial office it was to tend that which was their sole means of locomotion, thus in time resolved itself into a distinct name for that branch of his occupation.[287] The old ‘Herberjour’ gave lodging, whence it is we get our ‘arbour.’ Our kings and barons in their journeys always kept an officer so termed, whose duty it was to go before and prepare and make ready for their coming. Owing to the large number of household attendants for whom lodging was required, this was an important and responsible duty. Thus has arisen our ‘harbinger,’ so often poetically applied to the sun as heralding the approach of day. The older spelling is preserved in the ‘Canterbury Tales,’ where it is said—

The fame anon throughout the town is born,
How Alla King shal come on pilgrimage,
By herbergeours that wenten him beforn.

It is, however, as applied to lodging-house keepers our many enrolled ‘Herbert le Herberjurs,’ ‘Roger le Herberers,’ ‘William le Herbers,’ or ‘Richard le Harebers,’ are met with, and I doubt not our ‘Harbers’ and ‘Harbours’ are their offspring. In this sense the word is used by our mediæval writers in all its forms, whether verb, or adjective, or substantive. Tyndale’s version of Romans xii. 13 is, ‘Be ready to harbour,’ where we now have it ‘given to hospitality.’ Bishop Coverdale, speaking of the grave, says—‘There is the harborough of all flesh; there lie the rich and the poor in one bed’ (Fruitful Lessons). He adds also, in another place, that Abraham was ‘liberal, merciful, and harborous’—i.e., ready to entertain strangers (The Old Faith). Bradford, too, to give but one more quotation, prays God may ‘sweep the houses of our hearts, and make them clean, that they may be a worthy harborough and lodging for the Lord’ (Bradford’s Works). Market Harborough still preserves this old word and its true sense from being forgotten. With the bearers, therefore, of the above names we may ally our ‘Inmans’ and ‘Taverners.’ The latter term is frequently found in early writings, and was evidently in ordinary use for the occupation—

Ryght as of a tavernere
The grene busche that hangeth out
Is a sygne, it is no dowte,
Outward folkys for to telle
That within is wyne to selle.

While, however, the tavern has undergone but little change, the inn has. With our present Bible an inn is ever a lodging, and this was once the sole idea the term conveyed. It was not for casual callers by day, but for lodgers by night. Thus Chaucer in his ‘Knight’s Tale’ uses the verb—

This Theseus, this duk, this worthy knight,
When he had brought them into his cite,
And ynned them, everich (each) at his degre
He festeth them.

Until the fair or wake came on, as I have said, the community in the more retired nooks and corners of the country depended entirely on the mounted merchant. He it was who conveyed to them the gossip of the time. He it was, or one of his confrères, that brought them everything which in those days went under the category of small luxuries. The more lonely parts of the highway were infested by robbers. Hence the pack-horsemen and other mounted traders generally travelled in company, with jingling bell and belted sword—a warning to evil-minded roadsters. This was all the more necessary as they but seldom kept to the main thoroughfare. A straight line between the adjacent hamlets best describes their course. Such local terms as ‘Pedlar’s Way,’ or ‘Pedder’s Way,’ or ‘Copmansford,’ still found in various parts of the country, are but interesting memorials of the direct and then lonely route these itinerant traders took in passing from one village to another. The number of these roadsters we cannot otherwise speak of than as that of a small army. Many of them, so far as our nomenclature is concerned, are now obsolete, but not a few still survive. Amongst those of a more general character we find ‘Sellman’ or ‘Selman.’[288] From the old verb ‘to pad,’ which is still used colloquially in many districts, for the sober and staid pace the pack-horsemen preserved, we get our ‘Padmans’ and ‘Pedlers,’ or ‘Pedlars,’ once inscribed as ‘William le Pedeleure’ or ‘Thomas le Pedeler.’ It is of kin to ‘path.’ We still talk of a ‘footpad,’ who not more than two centuries ago would also have been spoken of as a ‘padder.’ So late as 1726 Gay, in one of his ballads, says—

Will-a-wisp leads the traveller a-gadding
Through ditch and through quagmire and bog,
No light can e’er set me a-padding
But the eyes of my sweet Molly Mogg.

Perchance of similar origin, but more probably from the old ‘ped,’ the basket they carried, are our ‘Pedders,’ ‘Peddars,’ and ‘Pedmans.’ ‘Martin le Peddere’ or ‘Hugh le Pedder’ or ‘William Pedman’ was a common entry at this time. On many parts of the English coast a fish-basket is still familiarly known as a ‘ped,’ and Mr. Halliwell, I see, quotes from another writer a statement to the effect that in Norwich, up to a recent day, or even now, an assemblage whither women bring their small wares of eggs, chickens, and other farm produce for sale, is called a ‘ped-market.’ It is likely, therefore, that with these we must ally ‘Godewyn le Hodere’ or ‘John le Hottere,’ who derived their sobriquets, I doubt not, from the fact of their carrying their hods or panyers on their backs, just as masons do now those wooden trays for mortar which bear the same name.[289] Their very titles remind us that our ‘Huckers,’ ‘Hawkers,’ and ‘Hucksters,’ relics of the old ‘William le Huckere,’ ‘Simon le Hauckere,’ or ‘Peter le Huckster,’ were from the first good at haggling and chaffering wherever a bargain was concerned. Our ‘Kidders,’ the ‘William le Kyderes’ of the fourteenth century, were of a similar type, whatever their origin, which is doubtful. Probably, however, we must refer them to the ‘kid’ or ‘kit,’ the rush-plaited basket they carried their goods in. We still speak of ‘the whole kit of them,’ meaning thereby the collective mass of any set of articles.[290] This view is strengthened—we might almost say proved—by the fact of a ‘Robert Butrekyde’ being found in the Hundred Rolls of this period. This would be a sobriquet given to some one from the basket he was wont to bear to and from the country market where he carried on his calling. Later on we find it used for a large mug or bowl. In the ‘Farming Book of Henry Best,’ written in 1641, we find it said—‘Some will cutte their cake and putte (it) into the creame, and this feast is called the creame-potte or creame-kitte’ (p. 93). The kidder’s usual confrère was the ‘Badger’—up to the seventeenth century an ordinary term for one who had a special licence to purchase corn from farmers at the provincial markets and fairs, and then dispose of it again elsewhere without the penalties of engrossing. It is generally said the sobriquet arose from the habits of the four-legged animal of that name in stealing and storing up the grain. The more probable solution, however, is that it is but a corruption of ‘baggager,’ from his method of carriage.

But we must not forget in our list of early English strolling merchants that the wandering friars themselves were oftentimes to be met with bearing treasure wherewith to tempt the housewife, and no bad bargainers, if we may accept the statement made against them by an old political song:—

There is no pedler that pak can bere,
That half so dere can selle his gere,
Than a frere can do;
For if he give a wyfe a knyfe
That cost but penys two,
Worthe ten knyves, so may I thrive,
He wyl have ere he go.[291]

Our ‘Tinklers’ and ‘Tinkers,’ like our more northern ‘Cairds,’ seem to have been scarcely removed in degree from the strolling gipsies. They acquired their name from the plan they adopted of heralding their coming by striking a kettle, a plan of attracting attention more euphoniously practised by our bellmen, with whom we are still familiar. Such names as ‘Alice Tynkeller’ in the fourteenth century, or ‘Peter le Teneker’ found in the thirteenth century, show how early had this method been adopted and the sobriquet given.[292] Last, but not least, come our ‘Chapman’ or ‘Copeman’[293] and ‘Packman.’[294] The former is sometimes met with as ‘Walter’ or ‘John le Chepman,’ which at once reminds us of his origin, that of the ‘cheap-man,’ or ‘cheap-jack,’ as we should now style him. The old ‘cheaping,’ or ‘chipping,’ a market-place, still lingers locally in such place-names as ‘Chipping-Norton,’ or ‘Chipping-Camden,’ or the local surname ‘Chippendale;’ and the verb ‘to chop’—i.e., to purchase, I believe, is not yet extinct amongst us. The once common phrase for selling and exchanging was ‘chopping and changing.’ Coverdale uses it. Speaking of Christ driving out the money-changers from the Temple, he says, ‘The Temple was ordained for general prayer, thanksgiving, and preaching, and not for chopping and changing, or other such like things’ (The Old Faith). Thus the term ‘chapman’ would be no unmeaning one to our forefathers. But we must give him a paragraph to himself.

The chapman, you must know, was a great man. According to more modern usage, he had a fixed residence, but we may still see him at times, after the olden fashion, travelling about in a large booth-like conveyance or rumble. This vehicular mode of transit set him far above the rank of ordinary footpads. He was a sort of pedlar in high life, in fact, and if his position was lofty, his abilities were generally equal to a performance of its duties. O the sensation his arrival caused! The village green was instantly instinct with life. From impossible nooks and crannies surged forth a small army of all ages. Hoarded pennies or twopennies were drawn forth from cherished hiding-places, and flinty maternal pockets were for the nonce assailed with comparative success. To the young folks it was the next best thing to Punchinello, the chapman was so funny. Besides, he had so many things wherewith to tempt their juvenile fancy. What was there he had not? Everything that could under any lax code of fancy possibly or impossibly come under the all-expansive term of hardware was crowded within the magic recesses of that chapman’s van. Dolls and dishes, scissors and hats, cornplasters and cosmetics, lollipops in the shape of soldiers, and lollipops in the shape of windmills issued forth in a succession as insinuating to the purse as it was tempting to the imagination. And what a man was Jack himself; he had a joke for everyone, a frown for none. His face was an ever-changing picture, bluffed by the wind and burnt by the sun; still it was ever cheery withal, now demure, half waggish, half impudent, anon all benevolence as he details the merits of his latest painless corn-suppressing plaster, and assures the gaping swains that his sole object in life, since the happy moment when he first became acquainted with its virtues, has been to carry through the world the blissful tidings to suffering man. All this, he adds, with reckless impudence, has been done at a great personal pecuniary sacrifice; but an approving conscience, and the blessings showered upon his head by the recipients of his generosity, have been his ample reward. Of course they sell like wildfire, and the profits are enormous.[295]

Our ‘Packmans,’ ‘Paxmans,’ and perhaps ‘Packers,’ were, as a rule, the village commissioners.[296] What a simple and homely state of life do their names suggest. No half-hourly omnibus, or still more frequent train, whisked off the bustling housewife to the big town—now some sleepy old place with grass-grown streets, and half a century behind the times, where ‘news much older than the ale goes round’—but then the thrifty emporium of cheese and butter and such like stores, and great in the eyes of country bumpkins. No; if you visited the town in those days you must make a day of it. And the mistress knew better than do this. Leave her dairy, forsooth—what would become of the cream if she left Malkin to forget her work, and talk with Giles the cowboy behind the stable door all morning? She leave, indeed! Of course she could not, so there was the pack-horseman, who for a trifling commission went to and from the market for her and her neighbours. As he returned in the cool of the evening, when the sun was low and work over, you might see him pausing awhile at the door of the farmsteads, long after he has given the mistress her store, and, more slily, Malkin her ribbon. He is in no hurry now, for he is telling the country folk all the news; how the great world is wagging, and how there has been a great battle with the Frenchers some six or eight weeks ago (news, good or bad, did not travel fast in those days). The Frenchmen are looked upon by the simple rustics as the very impersonification of iniquity, they being under a sort of impression that a Frenchman is a being who defies God and man alike, and would think no bones of eating you up. At once the packman is plied for a full, true, and particular account of the battle, and he, there being none to gainsay his description, and with an eye probably to the good wife’s best ale, which, as he well knows from experience, will be brought forth with a freedom of hospitality proportionate to the horror of the details, fills up a bloody tale with sundry touches of a most tragic character, while the country folk gape in wide-mouthed terror, and the old grandmother cries ‘Lord, ha’ mercy on us!’ His face is lost to sight once more in the ale jug, and then he passes on to other steads, where a similar scene and a similar reward await his thirsty soul. Another name in evident use for the packman was that of ‘Sumpter,’ ‘Martin le Someter’ or ‘William le Sumeter’ being common entries at this time. We are still familiar with the term as applied to the mule or horse that carried the baggage, but in a personal sense it has long been extinct,[297] saving in our directories, where as ‘Sumpter’ and ‘Sumter’ it is by no means seldom met with. How large a load these animals were required to bear we may picture to ourselves from a verse found in ‘Percy’s Reliques’—

But, for you have not furniture
Beseeming such a guest,
I bring his owne, and come myselfe,
To see his lodging drest.

With that two sumpters were discharged,
In which were hangings brave,
Silke coverings, curteins, carpets, plate,
And all such turn should have.

But useful as were all these various itinerants, it was at the great yearly wakes or fairs, held in commemoration of the church dedication, that the housekeepers round laid in their greatest store. The term ‘wake’ denotes ‘a watching,’ because of the vigil observed during the night preceding the festival itself. Indeed ‘wake’ and ‘watch’ were for centuries synonymous words.[298] Wicklyffe translates Mark xii. 37—‘Forsooth, that that I say to you, I say to all, Wake ye.’[299] Thus it is that our ‘Wakemans’ are but memorials of the old village guardian or night watchman, while our ‘Wakes’ can boast a title dating so far back as the time when ‘Hereward the Wake,’ or Watchful, was fighting the last battle of the down-trodden and oppressed Saxon.[300] These fairs were by no means for mere pleasure-seekers, as we might imagine from such a term as ‘church-ale,’ or judging by the aspect of such festivals in the present day. They had an end to answer, and an important end, and in early times they fulfilled it. It was here the farmers round brought their produce, ready to sell their wool for good sound money, or to exchange it for commodities of which they stood in need. It was here the foreign trader came to purchase sheep-fells and other skins, soon, by transmission abroad, to be worked up by Flemish hands into good broadcloth, and retransmitted again to London or provincial marts. Edward the Confessor obtained a sum of 70l., an immense amount at such a time as this, from the tollage at a fair held in Bedfordshire. Of many celebrated fairs, those of Smithfield on St. Bartholomew’s Day (which still exists as a kind of perpetual one), York, Winchester, and Ely seem to have been the most frequented. That in the Isle of Ely was kept up on and for some days after the feast of St. Awdrey, or Audrey, the corrupted name of St. Etheldreda, which as a surname our ‘Awdreys’ still preserve. This seems to have become specially noted for its sale of trinkets, toys, and cheap and gay laces—so much so that in course of time ‘tawdry,’ or St.-Awdry, ware became the colloquial and general term for such. Drayton we even find using the word substantively when he says:—

Of which the Naiads and blue Nereids make

Them tawdries for their neck.[301]

Of the still greater one held at Winchester, we find Piers the Plowman speaking:—

To Wye and to Winchester
I went to the fair,
With many manner merchandise,
As my master me hight:
But it had been unsold
These seven years,
So God me help,
Had there not gone
The grace of guile
Among my chaffer.

The ‘Wife of Bath,’ too, has a word to say upon this subject. Says she:—

I governed them so wel after my lawe,
That eche of them ful blissful was and fawe
To bringen me gay thinges fro the feyre.

What a picture does all this present to our eye. We can see the circular stand of booths belting the rails of the quaint belfried edifice, sometimes, I am afraid, the sacred precincts within.[302] Behind these we may note how busy are our ‘le Stallers’ and ‘le Stallmans,’ now found also as ‘Stalman;’ not to say our ‘Stallards,’ that is, stall-wards, and obsolete ‘le Vendours.’ No infliction too severe can be made upon their readiness to please. Elbowing and chaffering and good-humoured haggling are the order of the day. Here the stupid, happy swain, with his be-ribboned sweetheart tucked under his arm, is buying their little stock wherewith to start life; here the child is made blissful with a trumpet, and the hoary-headed rustic gets a warmer cap for his crown. Here, too, it is that the chapman and other of his confrères, as I have already hinted, are buying in their varied commodities. All alike are well catered for. When we talk of ‘packing up our duds,’ few of us, I imagine, are aware that we are using a word of most familiar import in long generations gone by. A ‘dud’ then was a coarse, patched linen gown, gaudy in colour, made up in fact of variegated pieces of this material. Hence he who sold such cheap, flashy goods at a fair, any old fripperer in truth, was styled a ‘dudder’ up to comparatively recent times, and the booth itself a ‘duddery.’ ‘Duderman’ and ‘Dudder’ (now obsolete), ‘Dudman’ and ‘Dodman,’ are all, I doubt not, but interesting memorials of this once flourishing lower class trade. Such names as ‘Thomas Dudman’ or ‘Ralph Deuderman’ greet us occasionally in the olden rolls. ‘William Fairman,’[303] found in the Parliamentary Writs, would be, I suppose, a more general vendor. He has not a few descendants.

But while bartering and the purchase and sale of these varied household commodities occupied no small amount of attention, such a sober mode of passing the fairtide was very far from being the intention of the younger and gayer portion of the assemblage; nor was there, indeed, any lack of that which could feed or give zest to their relish for amusement, though it was not always of the most innocent nature. Our ‘Champions’ and ‘Campions’ are but relics of the old ‘William le Champion,’[304] or ‘Katerine le Chaumpion,’ a sobriquet which would easily affix itself to some sturdy and swarthy rustic who had thrown his adversary in the wrestling ground. This has ever been a popular sport amid our more rural communities. The Miller, Chaucer says:—

Was a stout carl for the nones,
Ful bigge he was of braun, and eke of bones,
That proved wel, for over all ther he came,
At wrestling he would bear away the ram.

In an old poem I have already quoted, the mother warns her daughter:—

Go not to the wrestling, nor shooting the cock,

As it were a strumpet or a giglot.[305]

Doubtless such a sobriquet as ‘Richard le Fytur,’ that is ‘Fighter,’ would be but representative of the same. The country folks were not slow, too, to copy their masters, and in the friendly joust the former, ‘Thomas le Justere’ or ‘Robert le Justure,’ would brace himself amid the excited ring to unseat his fellow-swain, affording much sport to the on-looking wags.

By the maypole you may see the conjuror, or ‘Wiseman,’ as he was generally termed, battening himself upon the superstitious minds of the assembled hinds. In the Hundred Rolls he figures as ‘Wysman’ and ‘Wyseman.’ A little further on our ‘Players’ would be enacting their mummery. The great crowd there in the corner are watching the showman with his dancing bear, a yearly treat the younger holiday-seekers always appreciated. What a change has come over our English habits with regard to this animal. Dancing was the least cruel of the sports connected with it. Time was when every noble of position had his bears and his bearward, when even royalty could boast a master of the king’s bears, and when as a pastime the bear-baiting took an easy pre-eminence in the eyes of all holiday folk. A skit on the Earl of Warwick, banished to the Isle of Man, written 1399, says:—

A bereward found a rag:

Of this rag he made a bag:

He dude in gode entent.

Thorwe the bag the bereward is taken;

All his beres have hym forsaken.

Thus is the berewarde schent.[306]

In one of our earlier rolls I find several names that bear relation to this familiar sport. Of such are ‘Geoffrey Bearbaste’ and ‘Alexander Bearbait.’ More common to us in the present day, however, are the descendants of the more simple ‘Berward’ (‘Michael le Berward,’ H.R.) and ‘Bearman,’ or ‘Berman’ (‘Ralph Bareman,’ H.R.). In ‘Cocke Lorelle’s Bote’ mention is made of—

Jenkyne Berwarde of Barwyche.

Whether ‘Jenkyne’ was a mythic personage, or whether any of our present ‘Berwards’ are his lineal issue, I cannot pretend to say.[307] Any way, however, the name would be common enough then. Bull as well as bear baiting, I need not say, was a popular pastime with our forefathers. We still talk of bulldogs. Probably our ‘Bullards’ could formerly have told us something about this. Fit rival to these latter, you may see the ‘Cockman,’ or, as he was more generally termed, the ‘Cocker,’ matching his birds in the adjacent pit. The author of the ‘Townley Mysteries’ does not give the cocker a good character—at least he places him in very bad company—

These dysars, and these hullars,
These cokkers, and these bullars,
And alle purse cuttars,
Be welle ware of these men.

Among other instances the Hundred Rolls furnish us with ‘Simon le Cockere’ and ‘William le Koker.’

Professional dancers, I need scarcely say, were seldom absent from the mediæval festival. Tripping it lightly to some Moorish round, we may see such folk as ‘Harvey le Danser’ or ‘Geoffrey le Hoppere,’ inciting the younger villagers to follow their example. The latter name, which occurs frequently at this time, reminds us that our modern slang term ‘hop’ has but restored the ancient use of this word. Our Prayer-Book version of the Psalms still employs the verb in the verse, ‘Why hop ye so, ye high hills?’[308]—and Chaucer, in picturing the merry ’prentice, says—

At every bridale would he sing and hoppe;

He loved bet the taverne than the shoppe.

The feminine ‘hoppestere,’ which he also uses, does not sound quite so euphonious. In the ‘Pardoner’s Tale,’ among other of the dissolute folk in Flanders, are mentioned ‘tombesteres’—

And right anon in comen tombesteres

Fetis and smale, and yonge fruitesteres.

These, I doubt not, were female dancers, and performers of such bodily gyrations and flexions as mountebanks are still skilled in. The masculine form is found in such an entry as ‘William le Tumbere,’ whom we should now, so far as his professional tricks were concerned, term a tumbler.

All this time the mirth of music is at its loudest, though it is somewhat hard to separate the tones of the various rival minstrels. There is a trio in one corner by the tavern door there, discoursing sounds which are certainly equal, if not superior, to the Teutonic bands of more modern days. Indeed, with regard to the latter, I am beginning to suspect the conjecture of a friend of mine to be perfectly true—that they are German convicts shipped off, with cracked and second-hand trumpets, by the Commissioners of Police to save their keep. It is, however, right perhaps that the country which sends us the best should also have the option of sending us the worst music in the world. The trio we may see here, at any rate, have one advantage—that of their poetic mediæval costume. The first we may notice is the ‘Fiddler,’ represented by such men as ‘Robert Fyffudlere,’ or ‘John le Fythelere,’ or the Latinized ‘Rulard Vidulator.’ This last reminds us that it is now also written ‘Vidler.’ He of course played on the violin, for I must not say ‘fiddle,’ it is far too Saxon, for modern cultivated days. The Clerk of Oxenforde seems to have been superior to the generality of later university men, for he had—

Liefer have at his beddes head
A twenty bokes, clothed in black or red,
Of Aristotle and his philosophie,
Than robes riche, or fidel, or sautrie.

Certainly time effects wonderful changes. But I doubt whether even he would have found much profit, not to say pleasure, in the study of Aristotle, or any other philosopher, had he been subjected to the daily practice of a well-scraped viol in an adjacent dormitory,[309] the author of which could boast but one tune in his repertoire, and was determined that every one should know it. After the Fiddler—Saxon or no Saxon, I’ll stick to it for the nonce—comes the ‘Piper’ with his reedy stop, and next to him the ‘Taborer’ beating his drum with such rare effect as to make him the very idol of the youngsters. Spenser calls him the ‘tabrere,’ which form, as well as ‘Tabrar,’ Tabberer,’ ‘Tabor,’ and ‘Taber,’ still exists in our nomenclature.

I saw a shole of shepherds out go,
Before them yode a lusty tabrere,
That to the merry hornpipe plaid,
Whereto they danced.

Such entries as ‘Arnold le Pyper,’ or ‘Robert le Pipere,’ or ‘William le Tabourer,’ or ‘John le Taburer,’ are of frequent occurrence in mediæval rolls.

The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling crowd,

is the order of the gentle author of the ‘Faerie Queen;’ so having disposed of the two former, the ‘Crowder’ with his six-stringed viol duly engages our attention next, though he ought more correctly to have been yoked with the ‘Fiddler.’ ‘Crouth’ was but another form of the same word. An old Saxon Psalter thus renders Psalm cl. 4—

Loves him in crouth and timpane,

Loves him in stringes and organe.

Wicklyffe, too, translates Luke xv. 25 as follows:—‘But his eldre sone was in the feeld, and whaune he cam and neighede to the hous he herde a symfonye and a crowde.’[310] Like our ‘Harpers’ and more northern ‘Bairds,’ the ‘Crowder’ or ‘Crowther’ (for as surnames both forms exist) was oftentimes blind, and thus gained the ear of an audience, if not appreciative, at least sympathetic. Seldom, indeed, did he leave cottage, or hall festival, or fair, without a guerdon, and a kind word to boot; for while customs fade out and die, pity, thank God, knows neither change of season nor chance of time. Mediæval forms of the above may be found in ‘Richard le Cruder’ or ‘Thomas le Crowder.’ But we have yet several more surnames to mention which prove the once great popularity of this latter class of instrument. ‘German le Lutrere’ and ‘John le Leuter’ have left no descendants, I think.[311] The more common term was lutanist, but of this I have found no instance. While the lute had generally ten strings, and was struck by the hand, the viele or viol had six, was of stronger make, and was played with a bow. It seems to have been a favourite instrument in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, for such registrations as ‘Benedict le Viler,’ ‘Nicholas le Vylour,’ ‘Wyot le Vilur,’ or ‘Jacob le Vielur,’ occur with tolerable frequency at that period. Another Norman-introduced word was that of ‘gigue,’ or ‘gig.’ This, however, seems to have differed from the others in being of the very roughest manufacture, and made specially for professional dancers. These ‘giguers’ were extremely popular at rural festivals of any kind. At one and the same instant they would be tripping it round on the ‘light fantastic toe,’ singing some not too select verses, accompanying themselves on their sturdy instrument, and yet would have a hand to spare for a trifle if you should offer it. If you doubted it you had but to try them. It is thus we have got our ‘jig,’ our ‘gigot,’ or leg of mutton, too, being so called from its resemblance thereto. The surnominal form is found in such entries as ‘Walter le Gigur,’ or ‘Alexander le Gygur,’ but I doubt whether either is represented now. The last of this class of instrumentalists we may mention is ‘William le Sautreour,’ he who struck the ‘gay sawtrye,’ as Chaucer terms it. The more correct form of the word was ‘psaltery.’ It was specially used as an accompaniment for the voice, hence it is freely used in this sense in the Authorized Version. I do not doubt myself that some of our ‘Salters’ are but a change rung on the mediæval ‘Sawtrer.’ The ‘Fluter,’ I believe, has left no descendants, but in ‘Nicholas le Floutere’ he was to be met with at this date, and, I need not say, would be as familiar as he would be acceptable on such an occasion as this. The lusty young Squire was so musical that—

Singing he was, or floyting alle the day,

He was as freshe as is the month of May.

There is one name I must mention here, that of ‘Peter le Organer,’[312] perhaps connected with ‘Orger’ of the same date. The owner of this more modern-looking term may either have been organist at some monastery or abbey-church, or he may have played upon the portable regal, in which latter case he too might possibly have been seen here. But ‘organ’ was a very general term. In the old psalters it seems to have been used for nearly every species of instrument. We should scarcely speak now of ‘hanging up our “organs” upon the willows,’ but so an old version of the Psalms has it. Did we not know they were a modern invention we might have been inclined to suspect ‘le Organer’ to have been but a strolling performer upon the ‘hurdy-gurdy.’ That, however, was an infliction mercifully spared to our forefathers. In concluding this brief survey of mediæval music, I cannot, I think, do better than quote, as I have done partially once before, Robert de Brunne’s account of the coronation of King Arthur, wherein we shall find many, if not most, of the professional characters I have been mentioning familiarly spoken of. He says—

Jogelours weren there enow
That their quaintise forthe drew:
Minstrels many with divers glew (glee)
Sounds of bemes (trumps) that men blew,
Harpes, pipes, and tabours,

Fithols (fiddles), citolles (cymbals), sautreours,

Belles, chimès and synfan

Other enow and some I cannot name.

Songsters that merry sung,

Sound of glee over all rung;

Disours enow telled fables:

And some played with dice at tables.

But we are not without traces of the troubadour. The simple vocalist, a strolling professionalist, too, in many instances, remains hale and hearty in our ‘Glemans,’ ‘Gleemans,’ and ‘Glemmans,’ not to mention our ‘Sangsters.’ Amid such lulls as might intervene, we should hear them at the popular festivals bidding for favour with their old-fashioned stories of ‘hawk and hound,’ and ‘my ladyes bower,’ set, no doubt, to airs equally à la mode. A contemporary poet tells us their song

Hath been sung at festivals

On ember eves, and holy-ales.

The recitation of these stories seems to have been a peculiarly popular profession. Our ‘Rhymers’ oftentimes showed their skill in the art of rhythmical narration by weaving the exploits they described into extempore verse.[313] The ‘Juggler’ or ‘Joculator,’ originally a minstrel or ‘jester,’ something akin to the clown of later days, became by-and-by more celebrated for his skill in legerdemain than loquacity, and now little else is understood by the word. Almost every baron, and even the king himself, had his favourite jester; but it was an art put to the most corrupt purposes, and ‘Jagge the Jogelour’ is set in very low company by Piers Plowman. Certainly his jokes were of the lewdest description, even for the rough times in which he lived. His voice, too, was sufficiently elevated, if we may trust the account given in the ‘Romance of Alexander,’ for—

No scholde mon have herd the thondur,
For the noise of the taboures,
And the trumpours, and the jangelours.

The ‘Dissour,’ the old Norman ‘diseur,’ similar in character to the rhymer and the juggler, seems to have left no memorial, saving it be in our ‘Dissers;’[314] neither can I trace ‘le Tregetour’ later than the fifteenth century. Every footprint of his professional existence, indeed, is now faded from our view. And yet there was the day when none could be more familiar than he. The Hundred Rolls record not merely ‘Symon le Tregetor,’ but ‘William le Tregetur’ also, while ‘Maister John Rykele’ is spoken of by Lydgate as ‘sometime Tregitour of noble Henrie, King of Engleland.’ Chaucer, too, mentions sciences

By which men maken divers apparences,
Such as these subtil tregetoures play.
For oft at feasts have I wel heard say
That tragetoures, within an halle large
Have made come in a water and a barge
And in the halle rowen up and down:

while in another place he speaks of seeing

Coll Tragetour
Upon a table of sicamour
Play an uncouth thing to tell;
I saw him carry a wind-mill
Under a walnut-shell;

with other equally marvellous feats. Thus we see that the art of legerdemain was not neglected at this time.

I doubt whether any relics we possess so completely convey to our minds the radical changes which have swept across the face of our English Commonwealth as do these lingering surnames. They remind us of the invention of printing, of the spread of literature, and of the slow decay thereby of the professions they represented. They tell us of a changed society, they tell us of a day of rougher cast and looser trammels; they tell us of a life around which the lapse of intervening years has thrown a halo of so quaint aspect that we all but long, in our more sentimental moods, to be thrown back upon it again. Placing these tell-tale names by the life of the present, we see what a change has passed over all. Let us hope this change denotes progress. In some respects it assuredly does: progress in the settlement of our common rights and duties, progress in civilization and order, progress in mental culture, progress in decorum. Still we may yet ask, with all this has there been any true progress? The juggler, ’tis true, with his licentious story, and the dissolute tragetour, both are gone—they would be handcuffed now, and put in gaol. This speaks something for a higher cultivation. But, after all, may not this be a mere outside refinement—a refinement to meet the requirements of an age in which the head is educated more than the heart—a refinement which may be had in our shops—the refinement, in fact, of the lowest of God’s endowed creatures, that of the exquisite? This is, indeed, an artificial age, and it warns us to see to it whether we are hypocrites or no; whether our life is entirely external or the reverse; whether it is all shell and no kernel, all the outside cup and platter, and within naught save extortion and excess. That mortal shall have attained the highest wisdom who, in the light of the world to come, shall have seen to the cleansing of that which is within, and if that, if the heart be cleansed, then the external life will as naturally, as it will of necessity, be pure.

CHAPTER V.

SURNAMES OF OCCUPATION. (TOWN).

We have already said enough to show that our early English pursuits were mainly pastoral. Even to this day, as we are whisked across the midland counties or driven across the Yorkshire wolds, we see what advantages we must have enjoyed in this respect. Our one chief staple was wool, and to export this in a raw unmanufactured state was the early practice. So general was this occupation that even subsidies to the crown were given in wool. In 1340, 30,000 sacks of wool were granted to Edward III. while engaged in the French War. This would be a most valuable contribution, for at this time it was held in the highest repute by foreign buyers. ‘The ribs of all nations throughout the world,’ wrote Matthew Paris, ‘are kept warm by the fleeces of English wool’ (Smiles). So early as 1056 we find the Count of Cleves obtaining a certain jurisdiction over the burghers of Nimeguen upon condition of presenting to the Emperor every year ‘three pieces of scarlet cloth of English wool’ (Macullum). With the incoming of the Flemish refugees and other settlers already mentioned this state of things was changed. The Conqueror himself had settled one band near Carlisle, but his son Henry soon after coming into possession removed them into Herefordshire, and the Southern Marches of the Principality. Doubtless the object of both was that of setting up a barrier against hostile encroachments on the part of the Scotch and Welsh; but the result was the spread of a peaceful and useful industry in two widely separated districts. Two other settlements, in Norfolk and Suffolk, one by Henry I., the other under the direction of Edward III., made East Anglia for centuries the Yorkshire of England. When we talk so familiarly of ‘worsted,’ or ‘lindsey-wolsey,’ or ‘kerseymere,’ or ‘bocking,’ we are but insensibly upholding a reputation which centuries ago the several villages that went by these names had obtained through Flemish aid. Thus was it then that at length our country was enabled to produce a cloth which could afford a comparison with that of the Flemish cities themselves. Of this incoming many surnames of this date remind us, the most important of which I have already mentioned in my chapter upon local names, ‘Fleming,’ as a general name for all these settlers, being the commonest.

When, however, we turn to the occupations themselves connected with the industry, we cannot but be struck by the wonderful impress it has made upon our nomenclature. The child’s ancient rhyme—

Black sheep, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, sir; yes, sir;
Three bags full—

carries us to the first stage, and to the first dealer. In our ‘Woolers’ and ‘Woolmans,’ in our obsolete ‘Woolmongers’ and ‘Woolbuyers,’[315] in our ‘Packers’[316] and once flourishing ‘Woolpackers,’ and in our ‘Lanyers’ and ‘Laners,’ relics of the old and more Norman ‘Bartholomew le Laner’ or ‘John le Lanier,’ we can see once more the train of laden mules bearing their fleecy treasure to the larger towns or distant coast. No wonder that Piers Plowman and others should make familiar mention of the ‘pack-needle,’ when we reflect upon the enormous number of sacks that would be in constant use for this purpose; and no wonder ‘Adam le Sakkere’ (i.e. ‘Sacker’), and ‘Henry le Canevaser’ are to be met with as busied in their provision.[317] Another proof of the engrossing importance of this one English article of commerce is left us in our ‘Staplers.’ The ‘stapleware’ of a town was, and is still, that which is the chief commodity dealt in by that particular market. A ‘stapler,’ however, has for centuries been a generally accepted title for a woolmerchant, and has therefore absorbed the more general meaning the word ought to have conveyed.

The first stage towards manufacture would be the process of carding the raw and tangled material, and numberless are the ‘Carders,’ ‘Combers,’ and ‘Kempsters,’[318] or ‘Kemsters,’ who remind us of this. In these latter sobriquets we have but varied forms of the same root ‘cemb,’ to comb. We still talk poetically of ‘unkempt locks,’ and we are told of Emelie in the ‘Knight’s Tale’ that—

Her bright hair kembed was, untressed all.

The Norman corresponding name is found in ‘Robert le Peinnur’ or ‘William le Puigneur,’ but unless in our ‘Pinners’ (a supposition not unnatural) it has left no descendants. But even these are not all. It is with them we must associate our ‘Towzers’ and ‘Tozers,’ from the old ‘touse’ allied to ‘tease’—they who cleared the fibre from all entanglements. Spenser talks of curs ‘tousing’ the poor bear at the baiting, and I need not remind the reader that in our somewhat limited canine nomenclature, ‘Towzer,’ as a name for a dog of more pugnacious propensities, occupies a by no means mean place. As applicable to the trade in question, Gower uses the word when he says, in his ‘Confessio Amantis’:—

What schepe that is full of wulle

Upon his backe they tose and pulle.[319]

It is here, therefore, we must place our one or two solitary relics of the rough machinery then in use. In ‘Cardmaker’ we have the manufacturer of the ‘comb’ or ‘card’ thus usefully employed; in ‘Spindler’ the maker of the pin round which the thread was wound; while our ‘Slaymakers,’[320] ‘Slaymans,’ and obsolete ‘Slaywrights’[321] preserve the once so familiar ‘slay’—that moveable part of the loom which the webbe with his fingers plied nimbly and deftly along the threads. A petition to Parliament in 1467 from the worsted manufacturers complains that in the county of Norfolk there are ‘divers persones that make untrue ware of all manner of worstedes, not being of the assises in length nor brede, nor of good, true stuffe and makyng, and the slayes and yern thereto belonging untruly made and wrought, etc.’ (Rot. Parl. Ed. IV.) I believe the word is not yet obsolete as a term of the craft.

I have mentioned ‘Webbe.’

My wife was a webbe

And woolen cloth made,

says Piers in his ‘Vision.’ This appears, judging at least from our directories, to have been the more general term, and after it its longer forms, the masculine ‘Webber’ and the originally feminine ‘Webster.’ A poem written in the beginning of the sixteenth century refers to

Curriers, cordwayners, and cobelers,

Gyrdelers, forborers, and webbers.

Such entries as ‘Elyas le Webbe,’ or ‘Clarice le Webbere,’ or ‘John le Webestre,’ are of common occurrence in our mediæval and still earlier records. But the processes are anything but at an end. The cloth must be dyed and fulled. Of the first our ‘Listers,’ once enrolled as ‘Hugh le Litster’ or ‘Henry le Littester,’[322] speak, and ‘Dyer’ or ‘Dister,’ still harder of recognition in such a guise as ‘Geoffrey le Deghere’ or ‘Robert le Dighestere,’ forms found at the period we are writing about. It was John Littester, a dyer, who in 1381 headed the rebellion in Norwich. Here the surname was evidently taken from the occupation followed. Halliwell gives the obsolete verb ‘to lit’ or dye, and quotes an old manuscript in which the following sentence occurs: ‘We use na clathis that are littede of dyverse coloures.’ Such names as ‘Gilbert le Teinturer,’ or ‘Richard le Teynterer,’ or ‘Philip le Tentier,’ which I have come across in three separate records, represent the old French title for the same occupation, but I believe they have failed to come down to us—at least I have not met with any after instance. The old English forms of ‘tincture’ and ‘tint’ are generally found to be ‘teinture’ and ‘teint.’ The teinturer is not without relics. We still speak when harassed of ‘being on the stretch,’ or when in a state of suspense of ‘being upon tenter-hooks,’ both of which proverbial expressions must have arisen in the common converse of cloth-workers. The tenter itself was the stretcher upon which the cloth was laid while in the dyer’s hands. On account of various deceits that had become notorious in the craft, such, for instance, as the over-stretching of the material, a law was passed in the first year of Richard III. that ‘tentering’ or ‘teyntering’ should only be done in an open place, and for this purpose public tenters were to be set up. (‘Stat. Realm,’ Rich. III.) We find many references to this important instrument in old testaments. Thus an inventory of goods, dated 1562, belonging to a man resident in the parish of Kendall, speaks of ‘Tenture posts and woodde, 6d.—ii tentures 20s.’ (‘Richmondshire Wills,’ p. 156.) The dyes themselves used in the process of colouring are not without existing memorials. In the York Pageant, already referred to, we find, walking in procession with the woolpackers, the ‘Wadmen,’ that is, the sellers of woad, unless indeed, they were the dyers themselves. The more common spelling was ‘wode,’ and when not local, ‘Thomas le Wodere’ or ‘Alan le Wodeman,’ with their modern ‘Wooder’ and ‘Woodman,’ will be found, I doubt not, to be the representative of this calling. ‘John Maderman,’ and ‘Lawrence Maderer’ remind us of the more reddish and popular hues. Great quantities of this were yearly imported from Holland, especially Middleburgh. The old ‘Libel on English Policy’ speaks of—

The marchaundy of Braban and Selande,

as being

The madre and woode (woad) that dyers take on hande.

The thickening mill, however, has left us several words of much more familiar import than these—viz., ‘Tucker,’ ‘Fuller,’ (or ‘Fulman’[323]) and ‘Walker.’[324] Among other older forms we find ‘Roger le Tukere,’ ‘Percival le Toukare,’ ‘Walter le Fullere,’ ‘Ralph le Walkere,’ and ‘Peter le Walkar.’ Of the first Piers in his ‘Vision’ makes mention, where he speaks of

Wollene websteris,
And weveris of lynen,
Taillours, tanneris,
And Tokkeris bothe.

‘Cocke Lorelle’ also refers to—

Multiplyers and clothe thyckers,

Called fullers everychone.

‘Walker,’ claiming as it does an almost unrivalled position in the rolls of our nomenclature, reminds us of the early fashion of treading out the cloth before the adaptations of machinery were brought to bear on this phase of the craft. In Wicklyffe’s version of the story of Christ’s transfiguration he speaks of his clothes shining so as no ‘fullere or walkere of cloth’ may make white upon earth.[325] Reference is made to the same practice by Langland also when, using this whole process of cloth-making as an illustration, he says:—

Cloth that cometh fro the wevyng
Is nought comely to wear
Til it be fulled under foot,
Or in fullying stokkes,
Washen wel with water,
And with taseles cracched
Y-touked, and y-teynted,
And under taillours hande.

We are here not merely furnished with the entire process itself, but the terms themselves employed harmonize well with the names I have mentioned. ‘Walker’ and ‘Tucker’ or ‘Towkare’ or ‘Toker,’ as it was variously spelt, together with ‘Tuckerman,’ have, however, disappeared as terms of this trade; and it is in our directories alone we can find them declaring these forgotten mysteries of a more uncouth manufacture.

The ‘taseles’ mentioned in the poem quoted above were the common ‘teasel’ or ‘tassel,’ a rough prickly plant allied to the thistle, which when dried was used for scratching the cloth, and thus raising a nap thereupon. Thus in Willsford’s ‘Nature’s Secrets’ it is said, ‘Tezils, or Fuller’s Thistle, being gathered or hanged up in the house, where the air may come freely to it, upon the alteration of cold and windy weather will grow smoother, and against rain will close up his prickles.’ (Brand’s ‘Pop. Ant.,’ vol. iii. p. 133.) In an inventory of the property of Edward Kyrkelands, of Kendall, dated 1578, we find the following articles mentioned:—iiii syckles, a pair wyes and iii stafs, tazills, 5s. 8d.—more in tazills, 2s.—iiii tentors, 40s. (‘Richmondshire Wills,’ p. 274.) The occupation itself is referred to in an old statute of Edward IV.—‘Item, that every fuller, from the said feast of St. Peter, in his craft and occupation of fuller, rower, or tayseler of cloth, shall exercise and use taysels and no cards, deceitfully impairing the same cloth’—‘en sa arte et occupacion de fuller et scalpier ou tezeiler de drap, exercise et use teizels, &c.’ (4 Ed. IV. c. 1.) It is probable that our ‘Taylors’ have engrossed this name. We find it lingering in Westmoreland, about Kendal, till the middle of the sixteenth century, in a form which required but little further change to make it the same. In the will of Walter Strykland, dated 1568, there is mentioned among other legatees a certain ‘Edward Taylzer,’ a manifest corruption of ‘Teazeler.’ (‘Richmondshire Wills,’ p. 224.) A century earlier than this, however, such names as ‘Gilbert le Tasseler’ or ‘Matilda le Tasselere’ were entered in our more formal registers.

Our ‘Baters’ and ‘Beaters,’ relics of the old ‘Avery le Batour’ or ‘John Betere,’ were all but invariably cloth-beaters, although, like the fuller ‘wollebeter,’[326] they may have been busied at an earlier stage of the manufacture. Capgrave, in his ‘Chronicles,’ under date 30 A.D., says, ‘Jacobus, the son of Joseph first bishop of Jerusalem, was throwe there fro the pinacle of the temple and after smet with a fuller’s bat.’[327] With the mention of our ‘Shearers’ (‘Richard le Sherere,’ M.) and endless ‘Shearmans,’ ‘Sharmans,’ or ‘Shermans’ (‘Robert le Sherman,’ ‘John le Shereman,’ M.), who represent the shearing of the manufactured fabric, rather than that of the sheep itself, we have the process complete. The cloth is at length ready to be transmitted into the care of our ‘Drapers’ and ‘Clothiers,’ and from them again through the skilled and nimble fingers of our numberless ‘Tailors.’ From all this we may readily see what an important influence has England’s one great staple of earlier days had upon the nomenclature of our countrymen.

Such a name as ‘Ralph le Flexman,’ with its many descendants, reminds us of the manufacture of linen, which, if not so popular as that of wool, was nevertheless anything but unfamiliar to the early craftsman. Our ‘Spinners’ carry us to the primary task of thread-making, an employment, however, all but entirely in the hands of the women. The distaff and the weaker sex have been ever associated, whether in sacred or profane narrative. Thus it is that ‘spinster’ has become stereotyped even as a legal term. Chaucer, four hundred years ago, somewhat uncourteously said:—

Deceite, weping, spinning, God hath given

To women kindly, while that they may liven.

Our modern ‘linen’ is formed from ‘lin’ or ‘line’—flax—as ‘woolen’ is from ‘wool.’ Hence we still speak of the seed of that plant as ‘linseed.’ That this was the common form of the word we might prove by many quotations.

He drank never cidre nor wyn

Nor never wered cloth of lyn,

says an old poem. Even Spenser speaks of ‘garment of line,’ and in ‘Cocke Lorelle’s Bote’ allusion is made to ‘lyne-webbers’ and ‘lyne-drapers.’[328] We need not be surprised, therefore, to meet with such names as ‘Elias Lyndraper,’ or ‘Henry le Lindraper,’ or ‘John le Lyner.’ Only this last, however, has survived the changes of intervening centuries, and still holds a precarious existence as ‘Liner.’ ‘Weaver’ was more common. A more Norman equivalent is found in such a sobriquet as ‘John le Teler,’ or ‘Henry le Telere,’ or ‘Ida la Teleress,’ a name which is not necessarily of modern French refugee origin, as Mr. Lower would lead us to suppose. Indeed, a special part of the ladies’ head-dress had early obtained the name of a ‘teler,’ from the fine texture of the linen of which it was composed.[329] It is but too probable that this name has become lost, like ‘Taylzer,’ in the more common ‘Taylor.’ This process of absorption we shall find to be not unfrequent. Nor are we without a memorial of the bleaching of linen. ‘Whiter,’ if not ‘Whitster,’ still lives in our directories. It seems strange that our ‘Blackers’ should denote but the same occupation; but so it is—they, like our old ‘Walter le Blakesters’ or ‘Richard le Bleckesters,’ being but the harder and more antique form of our present ‘bleacher.’[330] Our term ‘bleak,’ preserving as it does the earlier pronunciation, is but the same word, being formerly used to denote pallor, or wanness, or absence of colour. From this, by a natural change, it came to signify anything cheerless or desolate. With perfect honesty in this case, at any rate, we may ‘swear that black is white.’

With regard to silk, we had but little to do. The manufacture of this important cloth was barely carried on in Western Europe during the period of the establishment of surnames. It was nigh the close of the fifteenth century before it appeared in France. All our silks were imported from the East by Venetian and Genoese merchants. Of the latter an old poem says, they come—

Into this londe wyth dyverse merchaundysses,

In grete karrekis arrayde wythouten lack,

Wyth clothes of golde, silke, and pepir black.

Still we find a company of silkwomen settled in London at an early period. In the records of this city occur such names as ‘Johanna Taylour, Silkwyfe,’ in 1348, and ‘Agatha Fowere, Silkewoman,’ in 1417.[331] In 1455 a complaint was raised by ‘the women of the mystery and trade of silk and threadworkers in London, that divers Lombards and other foreigners enriched themselves by ruining the said mystery.’ I think, however, we shall find that all these were engaged less in the manufacture of fabrics than of threads for the embroiderers to use. Thus, as connected with the throwing or winding of these silken tissues, we come across such names as ‘Thrower’ and ‘Throwster,’ the former having been further corrupted into ‘Trower.’[332]

Next to wool, perhaps leather formed the most important item of early manufacture. We can hardly now conceive the infinite use to which it was put at this period. In military dress it had an especial place, and in the ordinary costume it was far from being confined to the extremities, as we have it now. Jerkins, chausses, girdles, pouches, gipsire—all came under the leather-dresser’s hands. In 1378 we find a jury, called together to decide upon a case of alleged bad tanning, to have been composed of ‘saddlers, pouchmakes, girdlers, botel-makers, tanners, curriers, and cordwainers.’ Of the more general manufacture of hides we have numerous relics; indeed, we are at once introduced into the midst of a throng of tradesmen, the very list of which proves the then important character of the article on which they spent their energies. Such names as ‘Jordan le Tannur,’ or ‘Loretta le Tannur,’ ‘Richard le Skynnere,’ or ‘Hamo le Skynnere,’ are still numerous both in the tanyard and the directory, and need little explanation. Our ‘Curriers’ are also self-evident; but I have not met with any instance as yet in mediæval times. Our more rare ‘Fellmongers’ were once occupied more directly with the larger hides, or fells, as they were called, of the farmyard stock. Less connected with them, therefore, than with the others, we may mention such men as ‘William le Barcur,’ or ‘Nicholas le Barkere,’ or ‘Robert Barcarius,’ the ancestors of our modern ‘Barkers,’[333] who, by the very frequency with which they are met, show how important was the preparation of bark in the tanners’ yard. In the conversation between Edward the Fourth and the Tanner of Tamworth, as given by Percy, it is said—

‘What craftsman art thou?’ said the king;
‘I pray thee telle me trowe,’
‘I am a Barker, Sir, by my trade;
Now tell me, what art thou?’

Such names as ‘John le Tawyere’ or ‘Geoffrey le Whitetawier’ (now found as ‘Whittear,’ ‘Whittier,’ and ‘Whityer’), not to mention such an entry as that of ‘Richard le Megucer,’ throw us back upon the time when the terms these men severally bore as surnames would be of the most familiar import. Their owners spent their energies in preparing the lighter goat and kid skins, which they whitened, and made ready for the glovers’ use.[334] The verb ‘to taw,’ however, was also used of dressing flax, and we may have to place ‘Tawyer’ in some instances in this category.

And whilst that they did nimbly spin

The hemp he needs must taw,

we are told in ‘Robin Goodfellow.’ Our ‘Towers,’ while apparently local, may be in some instances but a corruption of this same term. So early as the 14th century we find a certain ‘Eustace le Wittowere’ occurring in the Hundred Rolls, and that the simpler form should similarly be corrupted would be natural enough.[335] Thus we see that leather, too, is not without its memorials. The more furry skins, as used in a somewhat more specific form as articles of dress, or to attach thereto, we will allude to by-and-by. As we traverse in some semblance of order the more definite wants and requirements of early social life, the importance of these several crafts will be more clearly brought out. We must not forget that there were the same needs then as now, though of a different mould. Man in all time has had to be fed, and clothed, and housed; and if in all these respects he has in these modern days become more civilized and polished, it has been the result of a gradual process by which he has slowly, and not without many a struggle, thrown off, one by one, this custom and that, which belonged to a ruder era and a rougher cast of society. Our surnames of occupation are a wonderful guide in this respect. A tolerable picture of early life may be easily set before us by their aid; for in them are preserved its more definite lineaments, and all we need is to fill up the shading for ourselves. Forgotten wants, needs now no longer felt, requirements of which a progressive civilization slowly slipped the tether, necessities of dress, of habit, of routine, all, while the reality has long faded from view, have left their abiding memorial in the nomenclature of those who directly supplied them. Let us, however, observe, as in our other chapters, some kind of order—clothing, food, and general needs, this seems the proper course of procedure. And yet one more observation ere we do so. We have already spoken of the early system of signs as advertising the character of the articles to be sold. The early shop was far more prominent as a rule than the modern one. The counter, instead of being within the walls of the house, projected forward upon the pathway, so much so that we can only compare them to those tables we may often see at night, where under the lee of the walls costermongers offer shellfish, or tripe, or coffee to the passers-by. This was objectionable enough; but it was not all. Each dealer loudly proclaimed to the wayfarer the merits of his goods, vying with his neighbour in his endeavours to attract attention to himself or distract it from the other, especially if, as was often the case, a number of traders trafficked in the same class of merchandise. Others, and their name was legion, had no shop at all, not even the street table or counter, but passing up and down with wooden platters or deep baskets, made the very air discordant with their loudly reiterated cries of ‘Hot sheep’s feet,’ or ‘Mackerel,’ or ‘Fresh-herring,’[336] or ‘Hot peascods,’ or ‘Coloppes.’ It is in reference to this we find Langland saying—

Cokes and their knaves,

Cryden, ‘Hote pies, hote!

Goode gees and grys!

Gowe, dyne, gowe!’

Lydgate has a still fuller and more detailed description of this in his ‘London Lackpenny,’ and as it is tolerably humorous I will quote it somewhat largely, using Mr. Bowen’s modernization of it—

Within this hall neither rich nor yet poor

Would do for me aught, although I should die:

Which seeing, I got me out of the door,

When Flemings began on me for to cry:

‘Master, what will you copen or buy?

Fine felt hats, or spectacles to read?

Lay down your silver, and here you may speed.’

Then into London I did me hie—
Of all the land it beareth the prize.
‘Hot peascods!’ one began to cry;

‘Strawberries ripe, and cherries in the rise!’

One bade me come near and buy some spice:

Pepper and saffron they gan me bede,

But, for lack of money, I might not speed.

Then to the Chepe I gan me drawen,

Where much people I saw for to stand.

One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn:

Another he taketh me by the hand:

‘Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land!’

I never was used to such things indeed,

And, wanting money, I might not speed.

Then went I forth by London Stone,

And throughout all Candlewick Street:

Drapers much cloth me offered anon;

Then comes me one crying, ‘Hot sheep’s feet!’

One cried ‘Mackerel!’ ‘Ryster green!’ another gan me greet.

One bade me buy a hood to cover my head:

But, for lack of money, I might not speed.

Then into Cornhill anon I rode,
Where there was much stolen gear among.
I saw where hong mine owne hood
That I had lost among the throng—
To buy my own hood, I thought it wrong—
I knew it as I did my Creed,
But, for lack of money, I could not speed.

If we pass on from shop to shop in a more quiet and undisturbed fashion than poor ‘London Lackpenny,’ we must not forget that we are, at least so far, enjoying that which our forefathers could not.

With regard to the head-dress, and to begin with this, we have many memorials. ‘Tire,’ once a familiar word enough, is still preserved from decay by our Authorized Version of the Scriptures. Thus, for example, it is said in Ezekiel, ‘make no mourning for the dead, bind the tire of thine head upon thee.’[337] I do not know how comprehensive are the duties belonging to our present ‘tirewoman’ or lady’s-maid, but in the day when the tragic story of Jezebel was first translated, the sense of the word was entirely confined to the arrangement of her mistress’s ‘tiara,’ which is but another form of the same term. In the ‘Paradise Lost’ it is found as ‘tiar’—

Of beaming sunny rays, a golden tiar circled his head.

When we remember their former size, their horned and peaked character, and the variety of the material used, arguing as they do the then importance of the fact, we need not be surprised at meeting with comparative frequency such a surname as ‘Tyrer,’ ‘Tyerman,’ or ‘Tireman.’ It is somewhat hard to say whether our ‘Coffers’ are relics of the old ‘Coffrer’ or ‘Coifer,’ but as the latter business was all but entirely in the hands of females, perhaps it will be safer to refer them to the other. Such names, however, as ‘Emma la Coyfere’ or ‘Dionysia la Coyfere,’ found in the thirteenth century, may serve to remind us of the peculiar style of the head-gear which the ladies affected in these earlier times. The more special occupation of preparing feathers or plumes has left its mark in our ‘Plumer’ and ‘Plummer,’ memorials of the old ‘Mariot le Plumer’ or ‘Peter le Plomer.’ The old ‘caul’ or ‘call’ still lives in our ‘Calmans’ and ‘Callers.’ ‘Elias le Callere’ occurs in the Parliamentary Writs, and ‘Robert le Callerere’ in the ‘Munimenta Gildhallæ.’ Judging from the ‘Wife of Bath’s Tale,’ we should imagine this also to have been a female head-dress. There the old witch appeals to the Queen and her court of lady attendants as to them who wear ‘kercheif or calle’—

Let see, which is the proudest of them alle,

That weareth on a kercheif or a calle.

Another form of the surname is found in ‘Alicia la Kellere,’ now simple ‘Keller,’ the article itself being also met with in a similar dress. In the ‘Townley Mysteries’ a fallen angel is represented as saying that a girl—

If she be never so foul a dowde
With her kelles and her pynnes,
The shrew herself can shroud
Both her chekys, and her chynnes.

In its several more general uses it has always maintained its strict meaning of a covering.[338] Hoshea, we may recollect, speaks figuratively of God’s ‘rending the caul of Israel’s heart.’ Probably the word is connected with the ‘cowl’ of other monkish days, and thus may be associated with our ‘Coulmans’ and ‘Cowlers.’ ‘Richard le Couhelere,’ an entry of the fifteenth century, may belong to the same group.[339] A once familiar sobriquet for a hood was that of ‘chapelle,’[340] whence our edifice of that name and the diminutive ‘chaplet.’ The Parliamentary Writs give us an ‘Edmund le Chapeler;’ the Hundred Rolls furnish us, among other instances, with a ‘Robert le Chapeler.’ ‘Theobald le Hatter,’ ‘Robert le Hattare,’ ‘Thomas le Capiere,’ ‘Symon le Cappere,’ or ‘John Capman’ need no explanation. The articles they sold, whether of beaver, or felt, or mere woollen cloth, were largely imported from Flanders. Thus it is that Lydgate, as I have but recently shown, picturing the streets of London, mentions spots in his progress therethrough where—

Flemings began on me for to cry,

‘Master, what will you copen or buy?

Fine felt hats, or spectacles to read?’

That many of these wares, however, were of home manufacture is equally undoubted, and of this we are reminded by our ‘Blockers,’ representatives of the old ‘Deodatus le Blokkere.’ The ‘block’ was the wooden mould upon which the hat was shaped and crowned. In ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ Beatrice is made to say: ‘He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the next block.’ The ‘blocker,’ I doubt not, was but a hat-maker; we still call a stupid man a blockhead. Our ‘Hurrers’ (‘Alan le Hurer,’ H.R., ‘Geoffrey le Hurwere,’ H.R.), once so important as to form a special company with articles and overseers, as representative of an old general term, are not so familiar as we might have expected them. Bonnets, caps, hoods, hats, all came under their hands. Strictly speaking, however, a ‘hure’ or ‘howre,’ as Chaucer spells it, was a shaggy cap of fur, or coarse jagged cloth. In an old political song of Edward the First’s time it is said—

Furst there sit an old cherle in a blake hure,

Of all that there sitteth seemeth best sure.

That the word itself should have dropped from our vocabulary is to me a mystery.[341] Even in our nomenclature the rarity of our ‘Hurers’ and ‘Hurrers’ is to me inexplicable, bearing as it does no possible proportion to the former importance of the occupation. But this, as I have said before, is one of the peculiarities of personal nomenclature, depending entirely as it does on the uncertainties of descent. The head, we see, was not neglected.

The sale of woollen cloth by our ‘clothiers’ and ‘drapers’ we have already mentioned. The tailor then, as now, made it up into the garments which the age required. Few names went through so many metamorphoses as this. ‘Mainwaring,’ it is said, can be found in over a hundred and thirty different spellings. The exact number with regard to ‘Taylor’ I cannot state, as I have not dared hitherto to encounter the task of collecting them. The forms recorded in one register alone give us such varieties as ‘le Tayllur,’ ‘le Tayllour,’ ‘le Tayller,’ ‘le Taylir,’ ‘le Taylour,’ ‘le Taylur,’ ‘le Taillur,’ and ‘le Talur.’ We have also the feminine ‘la Taylurese’ in the same roll.[342] A name obsolete now in a colloquial sense, but common enough in our directories, is ‘Parminter,’ ‘Parmenter,’ or ‘Parmitar,’ a relic of the old Norman-French ‘Parmentier,’ a term a few hundred years ago familiarly used also for the snip. Among other mediæval forms are ‘Geoffrey le Parmunter,’ ‘Saher le Parmentier,’ ‘William le Parmeter,’ and ‘Richard le Parmuter.’ The Hundred Rolls give us the same sobriquet in a Latin dress as ‘William Parmuntarius.’[343] As associated with the tailor, we may here set down our ‘Sempsters,’ that is, ‘Seamster,’ the once feminine of ‘Seamer,’ one who seamed or sewed. Mr. Lower hints that our ‘Seymours’ may in some instances be a corruption of this latter form, but I must confess I discover no traces of it.

The sobriquet of ‘William le Burreller’ introduces us to a cloth of a cheap mixture, brown in colour, of well-nigh everlasting wear, and worn by all the poorer classes of society at this period. So universal was it that they came to be known by the general term of ‘borel-folk,’ a phrase familiar enough to deeper students of antiquarian lore. The Franklin premises his story by saying—

But, sires, because I am a borel man,
At my beginning first I you beseech
Have me excused of my rude speech.

Our ‘Burrells’ are still sufficiently common to preserve a remembrance of this now decayed branch of trade. They may derive their name either from the term ‘borel’ or ‘burel’ pure and simple, or from ‘Burreller,’ and thus represent the trade from which the other, as a sobriquet, owed its rise. The manufacturer is referred to by ‘Cocke Lorelle,’ in the line—

Borlers, tapestry-work-makers, dyers.

Special articles of costume now wholly disused, or confined or altered in sense, crop out abundantly in this class of surnames. At this period a common outdoor covering for the neck was the wimple, or folded vail, worn by women. To this day, I need not say, it is part of the conventual dress. The author I have just quoted beautifully describes Shame as—

Humble of her port, and made it simple
Wearing a vaile, instede of wimple,
As nuns done in their abbey.

Of this princess, too, whose careful dress he so particularly describes, he says—

Full seemly her wimple pinched was.

The maker of such was, of course, our ‘Wympler.’[344] Among other ornaments belonging to the princess, also, is mentioned ‘a pair of beads,’ that is, bracelets of small coral, worn upon the arm, and in this case ‘gauded with green.’ A ‘Simon Wyld, Bedemaker,’ is found in the London records of this time, and no doubt ‘Thomas le Perler’ could have told us something about the same. Beside these, therefore, we may set our still existing ‘Paternosters,’ relics of the old ‘Paternostrer,’ who strung the chaplet of beads for pattering aves. ‘Paternoster Row,’ literally the ‘Paternostrer’s Row’ was some centuries ago the abode of a group of these, doubtless then busy artisans. Mr. Riley, in his interesting ‘Memorials of London,’ records a ‘William le Paternostrer’ as dwelling thereby.[345] It is among such valuables we must undoubtedly set pins at this period. Judging by those which have descended to us, we should best describe them as ‘skewers.’ So anxious was Absolom the clerk to please Alison that, according to Chaucer, he sent her—

Pinnes, methe (mead), and spiced ale.

Whatever her appetite for the latter, there can be little doubt that the first would be acceptable enough in a day when these were so valued and costly as to be oftentimes made objects of bequeathment. Such entries as ‘Andrew le Pynner’ or ‘Walter le Pinner’ are, of course, common at this time, and their descendants still flourish in our midst. Our more rare ‘Needlers’ are but relics of such folk as ‘Richard le Nedlere’ or ‘John le Nedlemakyere.’[346] Piers, in his Vision, speaks of—

Tymme the tynkere

And tweyne of his ’prentices:

Hikke the hakeney-man,

And Hugh the nedlere.

‘Cocke Lorelle’ also mentions—

Pavyers, belle-makers, and brasyers,

Pynners, nedelers, and glasyers.

The Norman form ‘le Agguiler,’ or ‘Auguiler,’ still lives in our ‘Aguilers’ if not ‘Aguilars.’ A ‘Thomas le Agguiler’ represented York in the Parliament of 1305. Chaucer uses ‘aguiler’ in the sense of a needlecase—

A silver needle forth I drew,

Out of an aguiler quaint ’ynow.

But if pins and needles were valued more highly then than they are now, none the less did ‘buttons’ fulfil their own peculiar and important use. ‘Henry le Botoners’ or ‘Richard le Botyners’[347] may be found in most of our records. I do not see, however, that their descendants have preserved the sobriquet, unless, after the fashion of several other words in our vocabulary, they are flourishing secretly among our ‘Butlers,’ and thus helping to swell the already strong phalanx that surname has mustered. While, however, all these representatives of so many though kindred occupations seem to have flourished in their separate capacities, I do not doubt but that ‘Richard le Haberdasher’ would have been able to supply most of the wares they dealt in. His was a common and lucrative employment in a day when, to judge by the contents of a shop of this kind as set down in the London Rolls, he could offer for purchase such a wide assortment as spurs and shirts, chains and nightcaps, spectacles and woollen threads, beads and pen-cases, combs and ink-horns, parchments and whipcords, gaming-tables and coffins (Riley’s ‘London Memorials,’ p. 422). There seems to be little doubt, however, that in the first place he dealt simply in the ‘hapertas,’ a kind of coarse, thick cloth much in vogue at this time, and that it was from this he acquired the name he bore.[348]

The now, I fear, obsolete ‘Camiser’ made the ‘camis’ or chemise, or linen underdress—he was the shirtmaker, in fact. The former spelling lingered on to Spenser’s time, who writes of a

Camis light of purple silk.

It is with him we must properly associate our ‘Smockers,’ ‘Smookers,’ and anachronistic ‘Smokers,’ who, though their chief memorial remains in the rustic smockfrock still familiar in our country districts, were nevertheless chiefly busied with the ‘smok,’ such as the patient Griselda wore. Of one of his characters Chaucer says—

Through her smocke wroughte with silke

The flesh was seene as white as milke.

Such phrases as ‘smock-treason,’ ‘smock-loyalty,’ and ‘smock-race,’ and the flower ‘Lady-smock,’[349] still remind us that the word was once generally understood of female attire. Of the flower Shakespeare makes beautiful mention when he says—

And ladysmocks all silver white,

Do paint the meadows with delight.

The word slop is now well-nigh confined to the nether garments of our youngsters, but though, in this pluralized sense, it can date back to the time when the bard of Avon said of one of his personages that he was—

From the waist downwards all slops,

still, singularly used, it was in vogue far earlier. A ‘slop’ in Chaucer’s day, and even up to the fifteenth century, was a kind of frock or overmantle.[350] In the ‘Chanon Yemannes’s Tale,’ the host expresses his surprise that the Chanon, a ‘lord of so high degree,’ should make so light of his worship and dignity as to wear garments well-nigh worn out. He says—

His overest sloppe is not worth a mite.

Our ‘Slopers’ still remind us of this. Our ‘Pilchers,’ relics of ‘Hugh le Pilecher’ or ‘Nicholas le Pilchere,’ are equally interesting. In his proverbs on covetousness and negligence, the writer I have just instanced thus speaks—

After great heat cometh cold,

No man cast his pylche away.

A ‘pilch’ was a large outer tippet made of fur, and worn in winter. The modern ladies’ ‘pelisse’ is but another form of the same root. Speaking of furs, however, we must not forget our ‘Furriers,’ and once common ‘Pelters’ and ‘Pellipers.’ They were engaged in the preparation of the more furry coats of the wilder animals. In the Hundred and other Rolls mention is frequently made of such names as ‘Geoffrey le Pelter’ or ‘Reyner le Peleter.’ A ‘pell’ or ‘pelt’ was any undressed skin. The ‘clerk of the Pells’ used to be the guardian of the rolls of the Exchequer, which were written upon a coarse parchment of this kind. As a general term of dress it was once of the most familiar import. Wicklyffe, in his complaint to the king, speaks of the poor being compelled to provide gluttonous priests with ‘fair hors, and jolly and gay saddles and bridles, ringing by the way, and himself in costly cloth and pelure.’ An old song written against the mendicant friars, too, says—

Some friars beren pelure aboute,
For grete ladys and wenches stoute,
To reverce with their clothes withoute,
All after that they are.

Among the many ordinances passed to curtail the subject’s liberty in regard to his attire, much is written on the fashion of wearing furs. It seems to have been the great mark between the higher and lower classes. In 1337 it was enacted by Edward III. that no one of those whom we now term the operative class should wear any fur on his or her dress, the fur to be forfeited if discovered. The names I have mentioned above still remain in fair numbers as a memorial of this period.

Such a name from the ‘Rolls of Parliament’ as that of ‘John Orfroiser,’ although now obsolete, reminds us of an art for which English craftsmen obtained a well-nigh European reputation in mediæval times, that of embroidery. ‘Aurifrigium’ was the Latin word applied to it, and this more clearly betrays the golden tissues of which its workmanship mainly consisted. In the ‘Romance of the Rose,’ it is said of the fair maid ‘Idlenesse’—

And of fine orfrais had she eke
A chapelet, so seemly on,
Ne wered never maide upon.[351]

The term ‘Broiderer,’[352] however, was the more common, and with him all textures and all colours and all threads came alike. The Hebrew word in our Bible, variously rendered as ‘broidered work,’ ‘needlework,’ and ‘raiment of needlework,’ was translated in a day when this would be of the most familiar import. Our ‘Pointers’ and ‘Poynters’ manufactured the tagged lace which fastened the hose and doublet together. In Shakespeare’s ‘1 Henry IV.’ there is a playful allusion to this where Falstaff, in the act of saying—

Their points being broken,

is interrupted by the response—

Down fell their hose.

It has been asserted that the presence of this name in our modern directories is entirely the result of later French refugee immigration; but such registered forms as ‘John le Poyntour,’ ‘Robert le Poynter,’ or ‘William Poyntmakere’ are found in the records of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries with sufficient frequency to justify the belief that it was a much earlier denizen than many suppose.[353] In the former ‘Henry le Lacer’ or ‘Richard le Lacer’ we have, too, but a fellow-manufacturer. Lace, it is true, is now rather a delicate fabric of interwoven threads; once, however, it was but the braided string for fastening the different articles of dress together. Thus, the ‘shoes-latchet’ mentioned in Scripture is a mere diminutive of the word as thus used. The hose and doublet were invariably so attached. The verb ‘to lace,’ I need not add, is still entirely employed in this its literal sense. There were other means, however, of holding the several garments together, and not a few of which are still brought to our remembrance in our nomenclature. ‘Adam le Gurdlere’ or ‘Robert le Girdlere’ speaks for himself. It was for the girdle our former ‘Agnes Pouchemakers,’ ‘Henry Pouchers,’ ‘Robert le Purseres,’ and ‘Alard le Bursers’ (when not official) made the leathern pouch carried thus at her side for greater readiness by the careful housewife. Chaucer, whose sharply-cut descriptions of the dress of his company are invaluable to those who would study more closely the habits of the time, tells us of the Carpenter’s wife that—

By her girdle hung a purse of leather,

Tasseled with silk and pearled with laton.

The Norman equivalent of Girdler was ‘le Ceynturer’ (‘Nicholas le Ceynturer,’ A.) or ‘le Ceinter,’ but I have failed to find any traces of it beyond the fourteenth century.[354] Our decayed ‘Brailers’[355] and ‘Bregirdlers’ represent but the same occupation in more definite terms. The old English ‘brayle’ (from the Norman ‘braie’ or ‘braye,’ meaning ‘breeches’) was a waistband merely, a kind of strap, oftentimes attached to and part of the trousers themselves. The nautical phrase of ‘brailing up sails’ is, I fear, the only relic we possess conversationally of this once useful term. A ‘brailer’ (‘Roger le Braeler,’ A., ‘Stephen le Brayeler,’ X.) or ‘bregirdler’ (‘John le Bregerdelere,’ X.) was, of course, a manufacturer of these. Maundeville, in his ‘Travels,’ speaks of a ‘breek-girdille’ (p. 50). The now almost universal suspender was a later introduction, the names of ‘Bracegirdler’ and ‘Bracegirdle,’ which are not yet extinct, denoting, seemingly, the process of change by which the one gradually made way for the other. A ‘brace,’ from the Latin ‘brachium,’ the arm, encircles the shoulder as a ‘bracelet’ does the wrist. It is quite possible, however, they may be but a form of ‘breek-girdle.’ ‘Ivo le Glover’ or ‘Christiana la Glovere’ have left descendants in plenty, but they had to fight a hard battle with such naturalized foreigners as ‘Geoffery le Ganter’ or ‘Philip le Gaunter.’ At one time these latter had firmly established themselves as the nominees of the manufacture, and the only wonder to me is how we managed to prevent ‘gants’ from superseding ‘gloves’ in our common parlance. The connexion of the ‘gauntlet’ with military dress, however, has preserved that form of the term from decay. Both ‘Ganter’ and ‘Gaunter,’ I need scarcely say, are firmly set in our midst.

And now we must descend once more till we come to the lower extremities, and in a day of so much tramping it on foot we need not feel surprised if we find many memorials of this branch of the personal outfit. The once common expression for a shoemaker or cobbler was that of souter.[356] It is of constant occurrence in our olden writers. Thus the Malvern Dreamer speaks of—

Plowmen and pastours,
And othere commune laborers,
Sowters and shepherdes.

Elsewhere, too, he uses the feminine form when he makes mention of—

Cesse the souteresse.

The masculine term, I need not remind Scotchmen, is still in colloquial use across the Border, and that it was once so in England our many ‘Souters,’ ‘Sowters,’ and ‘Suters,’ and ‘Suitors,’ misleading as these latter are, are sufficient evidence. Such entries as ‘Andrew le Soutere,’ ‘Robert le Souter,’ or ‘Richard le Sutor’ are common to old registers. In the ‘Promptorium Parvulorum’ ‘sowtare’ is defined as a ‘cordewaner’ or ‘cordynare,’ and this at once brings us to our ‘Cordwaners,’ ‘Cordiners,’ and ‘Codners.’ They were so termed because the goatskin leather they used came, or was supposed to have come, from Cordova in Spain. In the ‘Rime of Sire Thopas,’ that personage is thus described:—

His hair, his beard was like safroun,
That to his girdle raught adown,
His shoon of cordewane;
Of Brugges were his hosen brown,
His robe was of ciclatoun,
That cost many a jane.

In the ‘Libel on English Policy,’ too, we find it said of Portugal—

Their londe hath oyle, wyne, osey, wex, and grain,

Fygues, reysyns, honey and cordwayne.

In the Hundred Rolls it is represented by such a name as ‘Hugh le Cordwaner’ or ‘Ranulph le Cordewaner.’[357] ‘William le Corviser,’ from the same records, or ‘Durand le Corveser,’ held a name which struggled for some time for a place, but had finally to collapse.[358] ‘Cobbler’ (‘Richard le Cobeler,’ A.), though it has existed as a name of occupation fully as long as any of the above, has, I believe, never been able so far to overcome the dislike to the fact of its being a mere mending or patchwork trade as to obtain for itself an hereditary place in our nomenclature. ‘Cosier’ has fared better, as have ‘Clouter’ and ‘Cloutman,’ relics of the old ‘John’ or ‘Stephen le Clutere,’ why I do not know. We all remember how the inhabitants of Gibeon ‘did work wilily, and went and made as if they had been ambassadors, and took old sacks upon their asses, and wine bottles, old and rent, and bound up, and old shoes and clouted upon their feet, and old garments upon them.’ Another name we may notice here is that of ‘Patten-maker,’ a ‘James Patyn-makere’ being found enrolled in a Norwich guild of 1385. Cocke Lorelle mentions among others:—

Alys Easy a gay tale-teller,

Also Peter Patynmaker.[359]

A patten seems in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries to have been very similar to our clog, only that the former was more easily put on and off. It was of a wooden sole, rimmed with iron. We find in 1464 the Patynmakers of London presenting a grievance in that the fletchers alone were allowed to use aspen-wood, whereas it was the ‘lightest tymbre to make of patyns or clogges.’ (Rot. Parl. iv. 567.) Mr. Way, in his Notes to the ‘Promptorium Parvulorum,’ says they were worn much by ecclesiastics to protect the feet from chill when treading the cold bare pavements of the churches, and he quotes a Harleian MS. dated 1390 regarding an archiepiscopal visitation at York: ‘Item, omnes ministri ecclesie pro majore parte utuntur in ecclesiâ et in processione patens et clogges contra honestatem ecclesie, et antiquam consuetudenem capituli.’ The patten-maker was evidently of some importance at this time.[360]

Perhaps fashion never went to such an absurd extreme as it did in the fourteenth century with respect to wearing peaked shoes. An old poem entitled the ‘Complaint of the Ploughman,’ says of the friars, and alluding to their inconsistencies, that they wear—

Cutted clothes to shewe their hewe,

With long pikes on their shoon:

Our Goddes Gospell is not trewe

Either they serve the devill or none.

Piers Plowman, too, speaks of a knight coming to be dubbed—

To geten him gilte spurs

Or galoches y-couped.

This last reminds us that they were commonly styled ‘copped shoon.’ Such a sobriquet as ‘Hugh le Coppede’ or ‘John le Copede’ would seem to refer to this. Probably the owner had carried on the practice to an even more extravagant length than his neighbours, and very likely he was one of those who caused a law to be passed in 1463 forbidding any knight, or any one beneath that rank, to wear any shoes or boots having pikes passing the length of two inches! Even this curtailment, I imagine, would astonish the weak minds of pedestrians in the nineteenth century. Of a similar craft with the shoemaker came ‘the hosier’ or ‘chaucer,’ the latter of which has become, surnominally, so famous in English literature. Though now obsolete, such a name as ‘Robert le Chaucer’ or ‘William le Chaucier’ was anything but uncommon at this time. Like ‘Suter,’ above-mentioned, it has a Latin source, its root being ‘calcearius.’ Chausses, however, were not so much boots as a kind of leathern breeches worn over mail armour. There is probably, therefore, but little distinction to be made between them and the ‘hose’ of former days, though it is somewhat odd that leather, which once undoubtedly was the chief object of the hosier’s attention, should now in his shop be conspicuous by its absence. While ‘Chaucer’ has long ago become extinct, ‘Hosier’ or ‘Hozier’ is firmly established in our nomenclature. Thus we see that clothing is not without its mementoes.

A curious surname is presented for our notice in our ‘Dubbers,’ not to be confounded with our ‘Daubers’ already mentioned. To ‘dub’ was to dress, or trim, or decorate. Thus, with regard to military equipment, Minot says in one of his political songs—

Knightes were there well two score

That were new dubbed to that dance.

It is thus we have acquired our phrase ‘to dub a knight.’ The term, however, became very general in the sense of embellishing, rather than mere dressing, and it is to this use of the word we owe the surname. Thus, in the ‘Liber Albus’ we find a ‘Peter le Dubbour’ recorded, whose trade was to furbish up old clothes; he was a fripperer in fact. In the York Pageant, already referred to more than once, we see the ‘Dubbers’ walking in procession between the ‘Bookbinders’ and ‘Limners,’ and here they were evidently mere trimmers or decorators externally of books. In another register we find a ‘dubbour,’ so called because as a hawker of fish he was in the habit of putting all the fine ones at the top of his basket, a trick still in vogue in that profession, I fear.[361] In all these cases we see that ‘adornment’ or ‘embellishment’ is the main idea. I need not remind my more North-country readers how every gardener still speaks of ‘dubbing’ when he heaps up afresh the soil about his flowers and plants. The old forms of the name were ‘Jordan le Dubber,’ ‘Payen le Dubbour,’ and ‘Ralph le Douber,’ which last most nearly approaches its root, the old Norman-French ‘adouber,’ to arrange.

A curious occupation is preserved from oblivion in our somewhat rare ‘Raffmans.’ We have the root meaning of the word in our ‘reft’ and ‘bereft,’ implicative of that which is snatched away or swept off. Thus we still use ‘riff-raff’ in regard to the off-scouring of the people. A raff-merchant was a dealer in lumber of any kind. In the Guild of Saint George, Norwich, 1385, we find not merely the name of ‘John Raffman,’ but such entries as ‘Robert Smith, raffman,’ or ‘John Smith, rafman.’ The term ‘raff’ for a low fellow is not yet obsolete, and Tennyson, when he says

Let raffs be rife in prose or rhyme,

is only using a sobriquet which, until recently, was a very familiar one in the mouths of our peasantry. I have placed the surname here because I doubt not the occupation whence it sprung was chiefly in respect of trimmings, and the shearings of cloth, wool, and such like articles of merchandise.

Another surname we must consider here is that belonging to ‘Ketel le Mercer’ or ‘Henry le Mercer,’ now found also as ‘Marcer.’ We see in the very title that the term has engrossed a sense not strictly its own, and that, though we visit the mercer’s shop for silken goods, he was originally a dealer in every kind of ware. He represented in mediæval times, in fact, the storekeeper of our colonies. Indeed I believe that to this day in some of our more retired country parts the mercer will supply his customers with haberdashery, drugs, draperies, hardware, and all general wants, saving actual comestibles. Mr. Lower quotes an old political song against the friars, in which this more correct sense of the word is conveyed—

For thai have nought to live by,
They wandren here and there,
And dele with divers marcerye
Right as thai pedlars were.

Our ‘Chaloners’ and ‘Challenors,’ representatives of such old names as ‘Peter le Chaloner,’ ‘Jordan le Chaluner,’ or ‘Nicholas le Chalouner,’ originated in a foreign but most useful manufacture. Chalons-sur-Marne, at this time one of the most thriving towns of the Continent, was chiefly renowned for its woollen and worsted stuffs, and a peculiar coverlet of this sort, called by the special name of a ‘chalon,’ became celebrated over the more civilized world. In the ‘Reves’ Tale’ we are told of the miller that—

In his owen chambre he made a bedde

With shetes, and with chalons fair yspredde.[362]

Any importer or manufacturer of these was a ‘Chaloner.’ In a public solemn pageant held in 1415 in the City of York, at the end of a list of trades to be represented, there follows this: ‘It is ordained that the Porters and Coblers should go first, then, of the right, the Wevers and Cordwaners: on the left, the Fullers, Cutlers, Girdellers, Chaloners, Carpenters, and Taillyoures: then the better sort of citizens,’ etc. (‘History and Antiquities of York,’ vol. ii. p. 126.) The trade name seems to have died out about the end of the fifteenth century. How corrupted a word may become in the lapse of time may be seen in the modern ‘shalloon,’ a term used for a species of worsted cloth. In such a name as ‘Hugh le Shetare’ or ‘Roger le Shetere’ we recognize him who provided that other portion of the bed gear which is referred to in the extract from Chaucer. This name is now extinct. Not so, however, our ‘Quilters,’ who still thrive in our midst hale and hearty, and need never fear obsoletism. Doubtless, as the cold of winter set in, and its warm padded qualities began to be appreciated, the quilters would be busy enough in providing such a coverlet as this. ‘Quiltmaker’ (‘John le Quyltemaker,’ H.) is also found as a variation of the above: an old poem mentions among others—

Quyltemakers, shermen, and armorers;

Borlers, tapestry-work makers, and dyers.

Such a name as ‘Christiana le Heldere’ or ‘Robert le Holdere’ must, I doubt not, be set here, both forms being still in existence. They belonged, I think, to the craft of upholdsters or upholders, at this time confined, it would seem, entirely to the manufacture and sale of mattresses, bolsters, pillows, and quilts, anything of a padded nature connected with bed furniture.[363] The insertion of flocks and feathers and the stitching together of such would seem to be a woman’s work, and this is the clue, I suspect, to the fact of our now using the feminine form of upholdster. There is a curious complaint made to Parliament in 1495, by the metropolitan upholders, that ‘Quyltes, mattres, and cussions (were) stuffed with horse hair, fen downe, neetis here, deris here (deers’ hair), and gotis here, which is wrought in lyme fattes and by the hete of mannys body the savour and taste is so abhomynable and contagious that many of the King’s subgettis thereby been destroied.’[364] It is prayed, therefore, that only one kind of stuff be allowed to be inserted in any one of these articles (‘Stat: of Realm,’ Henry VII.). In ‘Henry le Canevacer’ or ‘Richard le Canevacer’ we are carried back to a class of now all but entirely decayed trade. The canvaser, of course, turned out canvas, and this more especially for bags for the conveyance of the raw wool, or for tapestry purposes. In an old poem relating to German imports, it is said at the close—

Coleyne threde, fustaine, and canvase,

Carde, bokeram, of olde time thus it wase.

Tapestry work would engage much of this. Hangings of this kind, ere wainscot came into use, were the ordinary decorations of the baronial apartment, covering as they generally did the entire length of the lower wall. In the ‘Boke of Curtasye’ we are told of the duties of one officer—

Tapetis of Spayne on flore by side
That sprad shall be for pompe and pryde,
The chambur sydes rygt to the dore
He hangs with tapetis that ben fulle store.

The name of ‘Tapiser,’ for one who wove this article, is familiarized to us as that of one of the immortal company who sat down together at the ‘Tabard’ in Southwark. Our modern ‘Tapsters,’ I doubt not, afford but another example of a surname engrossing what have been originally two separate and distinct titles. In an old sacred pageant given in York in 1415, amongst other trades represented we find coupled together the ‘Couchers’ and ‘Tapisers.’[365] Our ‘Couchers’ and ‘Couchmans’ are thus explained. They were evidently engaged less in the wooden framework, as we might have supposed, than in the manufacture of the cushions that covered it, and doubtless, like the broiderer mentioned above, worked in gold and silver and coloured threads the raised figures thereon.[366] Thus we must ally them with such names as ‘Robert le Dosier’ or ‘Richard le Dosyere,’ makers of the ‘doss,’ a technical term given at this time for cushions or stools worked in tapestry.[367] Thus the same book which I have just quoted says of the groom’s duties—

The dosurs, curtines to hang in halle,

These offices needs do he shalle.

As a specific name for productions of this class the word is now quite obsolete, though familiar enough in early days; tapestry indeed, in general, has ceased to be popular, and is now all but entirely confined professionally to the weaving of carpets, and as an amateur art among ladies to those figured screens so much in vogue not more than one or two generations ago, traces of which still remain in the framed embroideries yet lingering in many of our drawing-rooms—embroideries of cats with grizzly whiskers and tawny terriers—embroideries which as children we heard with bated breath had been worked by our grandmothers when they were little girls, and thus we realised for the first time, not so much that they had done these wonderful things as that they had once been small at all, like ourselves.

We have no surname to represent the weaving of carpets, as this was an introduction of much later date than most of our other household comforts in the way of furniture. In Brand’s ‘Popular Antiquities’ an interesting quotation is given from Hentzner’s ‘Itinerary,’ who, describing Queen Elizabeth’s Presence Chamber at Greenwich, says, ‘The floor, after the English fashion, was strewed with hay.’ The strewing of church pews with rushes was common until recent times, and in the North of England the peculiar customs attaching to the ‘Rush-bearing,’ a kind of ‘wakes,’ are not yet extinct. It is fair to add, however, that carpets were in course of introduction at the beginning of the sixteenth century; an old poem of that date mentions—

Broudurers, strayners, and carpyte-makers,

Spooners, turners, and hatters.

Before proceeding any further we had better introduce our ‘Lavenders,’ or washers, for be it linen or woollen stuff, be it garment for the back or covering for the bed, all needed washing then as now. The contracted feminine ‘laundress’ is still in common use. That the masculine form, however, was early applied to the other sex is proved in the ‘Legend of Good Women,’ where we are told—

Envie is lavender of the court alway,

For she ne parteth neither night ne day.

The gradation from ‘lavenderie’ to ‘laundry’ is marked by Stowe, who in his ‘Chronicles’ writes it ‘laundery.’ By similar contractions our ‘Lavenders’ are now found also in the other forms of ‘Launder’ and ‘Lander.’ An old poem says—

Thou shalt be my launder,

To washe and keep clean all my gere.[368]

‘Alicia la Lavendar’ figures in the Hundred Rolls. Doubtless, like our more Saxon ‘Washers,’ she was a professional washerwoman. The stiffening process, of infinitely more consequence then than now, has left its mark in such a name as ‘Ralph le Starkere,’ or even in that of ‘William Starcman,’ starch and stark being once but synonymous words. Whether it were the carefully pinched wimple or the kerchief, whether it were of silk or lawn, both alike required all the rigidity that could be imparted to them, would the head be befittingly adorned. Employed, therefore, either in the sale of the starch itself or in the work of stiffening the dress, we find men of such a title as the above. Doubtless they are referred to by the author of ‘Cocke Lorelle’s Bote’ where he speaks of—

Butlers, sterchers, and mustardmakers,

Hardeware men, mole seekers, and ratte-takers.

From the outer we may now naturally and fitly turn to the provision for the inner man. Nor are we without interesting relics also in this respect. We have already described the process by which the flour was provided. The agencies in the towns for the sale of this, and the uses to which it was put, are all more or less well defined, and well established also in our present directories. I do not know whether French rolls had obtained celebrity so early as this, but the name of ‘Richard Frenshbaker’ would seem at least to give some kind of credence to the supposition. There can be no doubt, however, that he dealt in a fancy way, for in solid bread-baking the Saxon ‘Baker’ has ever kept his hands in the kneading-trough, and need never fear, so far as our nomenclature is concerned, being ousted therefrom. The feminine form has become almost equally well established among us, ‘Bagster’ or ‘Baxter’[369] or ‘Backster’ (the latter spelling found in Foxe’s Roll of Marian martyrs) being among other forms of the old female ‘bakester.’ Piers Plowman speaks of—

Baksteres, and brewesteres,

And bochiers manye;

and such good folk as ‘Elias le Baxter’ or ‘Ralph le Bakster’ or ‘Giliana le Bacster’ are very plentifully represented in our olden registers.[370] Still the foreigner did not give way without a struggle. We have ‘Pollinger,’ ‘Bullinger,’ ‘Bollinger,’ and ‘Ballinger,’ as corruptions of the ‘boulanger’ or ‘Richard le Bulenger,’ as he is recorded. In our ‘Furners’ we see the representatives of such a name as ‘William le Furner’ or ‘Walter le Fernier,’ he who looked to the oven, while in the all but unaltered form of ‘Pester’ we may still not uncommonly meet with the descendants of many an old ‘Richard le Pestour’ or ‘Herman le Pestur,’ who had spent the best of his days in the bakehouse. Such a name as ‘John Pastemakere’ or ‘Gregory le Pastemakere’ or ‘Andrew le Pyebakere,’ which once existed, reminds us of the pastrycook, a member, as he then was, no doubt, of a by no means unimportant fraternity—that of the ‘Pastelers’ or ‘Pie-bakers.’ An old poem speaks of—

Drovers, cokes, and pulters,

Yermongers, pybakers, and waferers.

Best known, however, to most people would he be under the simple professional name of ‘cook.’ I need not remind any student of olden English records how familiar is ‘Roger le Coke’ or ‘William le Cook’ or ‘John Cokeman,’ nor will he be astonished at his being so well represented in all those forms in the directories of the nineteenth century. I could give endless references to show that this term was not confined to the kitchen servitor. The ‘City Archives’ give us an ordinance passed 2 Rich. II. (A.D. 1378) by the ‘Cooks and Pastelers,’ as an associated company, and Piers Plowman speaks of

Punishing on pillories,
Or on pynnyng stools,
Brewesters, Bakers,
Bochers, and Cookes,
For these be men upon molde (earth)
That most harm worken
To the poor people.

‘Cook’ or ‘Coke’ certainly holds a high position in the scale of frequency at present, and, as I have had occasion to notice in another chapter, is one of those few tradal names that have taken to them the filial desinence, ‘Cookson’ being by no means uncommon. Of all these we might have said much, but to mention them must suffice, and to pass on. Solid bread-baking, however, as I have just hinted, was not the sole employment of this nature in early days. A poem I have recently quoted speaks of ‘waferers.’ Our ‘Wafers,’ relics of the old ‘Simon’ or ‘Robert le Wafre,’ seem to have confined themselves all but entirely to the provision of eucharistic bread, though they were probably vendors also of those sweet and spiced cakes which, under the name of ‘marchpanes,’ were decidedly popular. Among other gifts that Absolom the clerk gave Alison, Chaucer hints of—

Wafers piping hot out of the glede,[371]

and the ‘Pardoner,’ in enumerating the company of lewd folks of Flanders, speaks of ‘fruitsters,’ ‘singers with harps,’ and ‘waferers.’ Piers Plowman puts them amid still more disreputable associates. No doubt, true to the old adage, ‘near the church, never in it,’ they were wont to hang about the sacred edifice abroad and at home, offering their traffic to the devouter worshippers as they entered in. We ourselves know how searing to heart and conscience is such a life as this. That all were not of this kind we are reminded by the will of an Archbishop of York of the thirteenth century, who therein bequeaths a certain sum to two ‘waferers,’ evidently on account of their exemplary conduct while conducting their trade at the Minster door.

Chaucer, describing the prioress, says that—

With rosted flesh, and milk, and wastel brede,

she fed her small hounds. Cakes of wastel were of the purest flour and most careful bake, and were only second to the simnel in quality. Wasteler, found in such an entry as ‘John Wasteler,’ is extinct, but the shorter ‘Wastel’ still exists in our midst. Probably, in the latter case, it was originally but a sobriquet affixed to a baker of this peculiar kind of bread. It is in a similar manner, I doubt not, arose such early nicknames as ‘William Wytebred,’ or ‘John Holibread,’ or ‘Roger Blancpain,’ or ‘Josce Barlibred,’ or ‘Matilda Havercake,’ or ‘Lambert Simnel,’ the latter a name familiarized to the youngest student of English history. Strange to say, ‘Barlibred’ is the only one of this list that has disappeared from our directories, although ‘Barleycorn’ was in existence, I believe, but a few years ago. But to keep more strictly to tradesmen: I have no doubt myself it is here we must place our ‘Mitcheners,’ as makers of the ‘mitche’ or ‘mitchkin.’ The diminutive was the modern cracknel, while the larger seems to have been a small loaf of mixed flour. Chaucer, in his praise of contentment, says—

For he that hath mitches tweine,
Ne value in his demeine,
Liveth more at ease, and more is rich
Than doeth he that is chich (niggardly),
And in his barne hath sooth to saine,
A hundred mavis of wheat grain.

I have, however, no proof of the connexion I deem exists, so I merely mention it and pass on. We are more certain about our rare ‘Flawners’ and ‘Flanners,’[372] once the manufacturers of the ‘flaon’ or ‘flawn,’ so popular as to have left its mark in our ‘Pancake Tuesday.’ Caxton, in his ‘Boke for Travellers,’ says, ‘of mylke and of eggs men make flawnes.’ In the story of Havelok the Dane, too, mention is made of—

Brede an chese, butere and milk,

Pasties and flaunes.

A ‘Roger le Flaoner’ comes in the London Corporation records, A.D. 1307, while much about the same time I find a ‘Walter le Flawner’ in the Parliamentary writs.

I have kept our ‘Panyers’ and ‘Panniers’ till the last, because there is just a shade of doubt as to whether they owe their name to the manufacture of the basket so called or to the hawking of bread, the very practice of which custom, so familiar as it was then, has given us the term. The original meaning of ‘pannier,’ the French ‘panier,’ was bread-basket, and the word seems to have acquired a peculiar prominence from the fact that in mediæval times bakers, through being the subjects of a careful supervision, were forbidden to sell their bread anywhere but in the public market—nay, so particular were the authorities with regard to this that an officer was specially appointed to watch the ‘hutches,’ boxes, or baskets in which the loaves were exposed. A surname ‘Robert le Huchereve’ is even found in the Guildhall records as a relic of this. We can thus readily understand how hawkers of these portable covers or baskets would acquire the sobriquet of ‘panyers.’ Certain it is we find such entries as ‘Simon le Pannier,’ ‘Robert le Pannere,’ ‘Amiscus Panarius,’ or ‘Geoffrey Panyman,’ while in another register the occupation of ‘panyere’ is distinctly mentioned. We can equally readily understand how from this the term itself would, in course of time, obtain a wider and more general sense. That it has done so the donkey’s panniers are a proof. It is, however, somewhat strange, when we reflect upon it, that perhaps the last thing we should expect to see borne in this fashion in the present day would be that very article to which the receptacle itself owed its name.

It is somewhat remarkable that while our directories possess many records of the early manufacture of and traffic in cheese, yet there are no names whatever in the present day, I believe, and barely any in the past, which are associated with the most important of all country produce—butter.[373] The most satisfactory clue to the difficulty will be to suppose that the cheese-merchant of that day, as often in the present, dealt in both articles. This is the more likely, as the many sobriquets given to dealers in cheese in the fourteenth century would appear to give that edible, important as it was and is, a greater prominence than singly it deserved. Thus we find such names as ‘Edward le Cheseman’ or ‘Robert le Chesemaker,’ ‘John le Chesewright,’ or ‘William le Cheswright,’ or ‘Alen le Chesmongere,’ as representatives of the Saxons, figuring somewhat conspicuously in the registers of the period.[374] For the foreign element, too, cognomens were not wanting. ‘Benedict’ or ‘Michael le Casiere’ may even now be living in our ‘Cayzers,’ if they be not but another form of ‘Kaiser,’ and ‘Wilkin le Furmager’ or ‘William le Formager’ in our ‘Firmingers,’ is in no risk of immediate oblivion. The majority of the Saxon forms, I need scarcely add, are also thriving in our midst.

It may seem somewhat strange that ‘grocer,’ of all trades the most important, so far as the kitchen is concerned, should be so rarely represented in our nomenclature. But the reason is simple enough. To sell in the gross, or wholesale, was a second and later step in commercial practice. A ‘John Guter, Grossarius,’ appears in the London City Rolls so early as 1310, but it had scarcely become a familiar name of trade till the close of the fourteenth century.[375] In 1363 a statute of Edward III. speaks concerning ‘Merchauntz nomez Grossers,’ so termed because they ‘engrossent totes maners des marchandises vendables,’ and then enhanced the price on each separate article. Before this they had been known as the Pepperers, or Spicers Guild, such names as ‘John le Espicer’ or ‘Nicholas le Espicer’ occurring not unfrequently at this period. Spice, indeed, was the then general term for all manner of drugs, aromatic and pungent, which were brought into England by foreign and especially Venetian merchants from the East. These were carried up and down the country again by the itinerant traders, so many of whom I have already referred to in a previous chapter. An old song, written against the mendicant friars, relates that, among other of their vagaries—

Many a dyvers spyse

In bagges about they bear.

As I have just stated, however, the term ‘Grocer’ superseded that of ‘Spicer,’ and as such seems to have confined its dealings to the modernly received limit at an early date. As we must have already seen, each want had always hitherto been met by its own special dealer. With us now the Cutler would supply all the ‘Knifesmith’ and ‘Spooner’ then separately furnished; while our ‘Ironmongers’ or ‘Hosiers’ or ‘Upholdsters’ would each swallow up half-a-dozen of former occupations. Thus it was here. Our ‘John le Saucers’ or ‘Ada la Saucers’ provided salt pickle.[376] As with the ‘Frankelein,’ so with many another there—

Wo was his cook, but if his sauce were

Poinant and sharpe, and redy all his gear.

‘Peter le Salter’ or ‘Hugh Saltman’ furnished forth the chloride itself; ‘William le Mustarder’ or ‘Peter le Mustardman,’ or ‘Alice Mustard-maker,’ the mustard; ‘Thomas le Pepperer,’[377] now spelt ‘Pepper,’ the pepper; ‘Ralph le Soper’ or ‘Adam le Savonier,’ the soap. Each set before his customers’ eyes those peculiar articles of household consumption their names severally represent. All these, having flourished in the earlier age, established for themselves a better place in our register than our rare ‘Grosers’ or ‘Grossers,’ who in this respect only appeared in time to save themselves from oblivion, though they have long ago revenged themselves on their humbler brethren by swallowing up entire the occupations they followed. It is curious to note that in later days, through the various accessions of luxury, the result in well-nigh every case of foreign discovery, even ‘Grocer’ has failed to comprehend all. In our country villages we all but invariably find added ‘and licensed dealer in tea, coffee, tobacco, snuff, &c.’ In our towns, however, this addendum has been dropped, and a ‘grocer’s shop’ is the place we turn to, without thought of refusal, for these modern introduced luxuries. What changes in our domestic resources are here presented for our notice! In my previous chapter it was the over-abundance of certain rural and primitive surnames which told the story of the times in which they sprang. The contrary is here the case. It is in the absence of particular names, some of which I have already noticed, we have the best guide to the extraordinary changes that have taken place in our household economy. Look at our tea-table. Already in the two short centuries from its introduction this article has given its name to a special meal, having thrown the once afternoon supper into a nocturnal repast. Even Shakespeare could only say—

Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep.[378]

How strangely would it have affected our nomenclature had this and other like novelties been brought in earlier. We should have had ‘William le Coffyer’ giving us endless anxiety in the endeavour to separate it from the actual ‘Godfrey le Coffrer.’ We should have had, too, such folk as ‘John le Riceman,’ ‘Walter le Snuffer,’ ‘Ralph le Tobacconer,’ shortened into ‘Bacconer,’ and the still more awkward ‘le Potatoman,’ almost as inconvenient as ‘Garlickmonger,’ though doubtless it would have been quickly curtailed into ‘Taterman’ or ‘Taterer’ or ‘Tatman’ and ‘Tatter,’ and later on again into other forms too obscure to contemplate. The very recounting of these changes, which are strictly on a par with other names of a less hypothetical character, serve to impress us with the difficulties we have to encounter in the task of deciphering many of our surnames after the wear and tear they have undergone through lapsing generations.

But I must not wander. The sale of vegetables and fruits left its mark in our former ‘John le Fruemongers’ and ‘Ralph le Frueters,’ and ‘Hugh le Fruters;’ ‘Richard le Graper’ testifying seemingly to a more specific dealing. Our ‘Butchers’ of course have been busy enough from the day that the Normans brought them in. The variety of spelling which is found in olden records of this name is so great that I dare not attempt a list, but I believe there still exist, sans the article, such of the old forms as ‘le Bouchier,’ ‘le Bowcher,’ and ‘le Bowsher,’ while ‘Botcher’ is at least not altered in sound from ‘le Bochere’ of the same period—‘Labouchere,’ which preserves this article, is of more modern introduction from the Gallic shore. But the Norman was not without his rivals. Such names as ‘Walter le Fleshmongere,’ or ‘Eudo le Flesshemongere,’ or ‘Richard le Flesmongere,’[379] prove that the Saxon did not give up even this branch of daily occupation without a struggle, and in the two isolated cases of ‘William Fleschour’ and ‘John Fleshewer’ that I have lit upon we are reminded that Scotland, with its still flourishing ‘flesher,’ is but the asylum where this truly Saxon term found its latest retreat. Even yet in England with the country folk the butchers’ shambles are the ‘flesh-market.’ That ‘Fleshmonger’ was the colloquial term, we may prove from a list of tradesmen mentioned in ‘Cocke Lorelle’s Bote,’ a poem I have already quoted several times; reference is there made to—

Woolemen, vynterers and flesshemongers,

Salters, jewelers, and haberdashers.

The ‘Pardoner,’ too, in the same poem, thus begins his roll—

Here is first Cocke Lorelle the Knyght,
And Symkyn Emery, mayntenaunce agaynz ryght;
With Slyngethryfte Fleshemonger.

But if not in the common mouth, yet in our rolls there were two other names of this craft, which we must not pass over unrecorded. They were those of ‘Carnifex’ and ‘Massacrer,’ both representing the slaughter-house, I doubt not. The existence of the former would lead us to suppose that the old Roman hangsman was settled in our midst, but it was merely a mediæval Latinism for a butcher.[380] After the fashion of the time nicknames were affixed upon everybody, and our ‘Butchers’ and ‘Slaughters’ did not escape. The Hundred Rolls alone register the names of ‘Reginald Cullebol,’ ‘Henry Cullebulloc,’ ‘William Cullehare,’ and ‘William Culle-hog,’ or in more modern parlance ‘Kill-bull,’ ‘Kill-bullock,’ Kill-hare,’ and ‘Kill-hog.’ The original and more correct ‘poulter,’ he who dealt in ‘poults’ or poultry, as we now term it, has bequeathed his name to our ‘Poulters’ and ‘Pulters.’ Such names as ‘Adam le Puleter,’ or ‘Bernard le Poleter,’ or ‘William le Pulter,’ by the frequency with which we come across them, show how much did the farmyard help to provide in these days for the supply of the dining-table.

I have no peny,

Poletes to bugge (buy),

says Langland, showing that in his time they were commonly exhibited for sale. Indeed, the fact that in the York Festival of 1415 the ‘bouchers’ and ‘pulterers’ walked in procession together clearly proves their importance at the period in which the surname arose.

We have already mentioned the fishmonger, or what was practically the fishmonger, the fisherman, in our last chapter while surveying rural occupations. Our rare ‘Pessoners’[381] as representative of the Norman, and common ‘Fishers’ of the Saxon, lived in a day when under Roman ecclesiastic influences fish was of infinitely more importance than it is in this nineteenth century, when it is merely used as a go-between or mediator to soothe down the differences betwixt soup and beef. Then the year was dotted with days of abstinence, or strongly indented with seasons like Lent. Among the higher circles it mattered but little. So much had the culinary art excelled in respect of fish that such periods as they came round only brought to the epicurean mind visions of gastronomic skill that put the sterner and weightier joints utterly in the background for the time being. Pasties of herrings, congers, or lampreys were especially popular, and, judging from the lists of courses contained in some of our records, that only one of our mediæval monarchs should have succumbed to the latter is simply an historic marvel! Dishes too were prepared from the whale, the porpoise, the grampus, and the sea-wolf. ‘It is lamentable,’ says, facetiously, a writer in ‘Chambers’s Book of Days,’ referring to these viands as Lent repasts, ‘to think how much sin they thus occasioned among our forefathers, before they were discovered to be mammalian.’

A curious name is found in the Hundred Rolls, that of ‘Symon Haryngbredere.’ In what particular way he carried on his occupation I do not know. ‘Richard le Harenger’ is more explicable. Our ‘Conders’ were partners in the fishing excursions of the above. A full account of their duties may be found in Cowel’s ‘Interpreter,’ published in 1658. The conder stood upon the higher cliffs by the sea coast in the time of herring fishing, and with a staff or branch of a tree made signs to the boatmen which way the shoal was going. It seems there is a certain discoloured aspect of the water as they pass along, which is more apparent from an elevation than from the level of the sea.[382] In mediæval times the plaice was a very favourite dish. The term it usually went by was that of ‘but.’ Thus it is, I doubt not, we meet with such entries, as ‘William le Butor’ or ‘Hugh Butmonger.’ From some fancied resemblance to this fish, too, it would be that such humorous sobriquets as ‘Walter le But’ or ‘John le But’ would arise.

But while good and solid food could thus be purchased on every hand, we must not forget drink, for our forefathers were great tipplers. I have already mentioned our ‘William le Viners’ or ‘Roger le Vinours,’ in most cases, I doubt not, strictly cultivators of that plant on English soil. None the less certain, however, is it that our many early ‘John le Vineturs’ or ‘Alexander le Vineters’ were also, as merchants, employed in the importation of the varied wines of the Continent into our land. How abundant and how diverse they were an old poem shall tell us—

Ye shall have Spayneshe wyne and Gascoyne,
Rose colure, whyt, claret, rampyon,
Tyre, capryck, and malvesyne,
Sak, raspyce, alycaunt, rumney,
Greke, ipocrase, new made clary,
Such as ye never had.

The entry ‘Adam le Wyneter’ reminds us that in all probability it is to our early wine-merchants also we owe our ‘Winters.’ ‘Walter le Brewers,’ or ‘Emma le Brewsteres,’ or ‘Lawrence Beerbrewers,’[383] abound on every hand. We are reminded of the last by ‘Cocke Lorelle’—

Chymney-swepers, and costerde-mongers,

Lodemen and berebrewers.

The Norman equivalent for our ‘brewer’ was ‘bracer,’ and thus it is we meet with such a name as ‘Stephen le Bracer’ or ‘Clarissa la Braceresse.’ Latinized forms are found in ‘Reginald Braciator’ or ‘Letitia Braciatrix.’ Brewing was at first entirely in the hands of women. We have here ‘brewster,’ ‘braceress,’ and ‘braciatrix,’ and such phrases as ‘alewife’ and the obsolete ‘brewife’ (though it lingered on till Shakespeare’s day) show the ale-making and ale-selling business to have been mainly hers. ‘Malter’[384] and ‘Maltster’ or ‘Malster’ both exist, but the latter has ever denoted the avocation.[385] ‘Tapper’ and ‘Tapster,’ too, are both occupants of our directories, but as a term of industry the latter has ever held its own.[386] It is the same with several other occupations which we have already noticed. It is so with ‘bread-baking,’ manifesting a woman’s work. As we have already seen, the familiar expression in olden times was ‘bakester,’ now represented by our ‘Baxters.’ It is so with weaving. Our nomenclature, as I have previously shown, still preserves the ‘Webster’ and the ‘Kempster’ from being forgotten. In the winter evening, as the logfire crackled on the hearth, and while the good man was chopping wood, or tending his cattle, or mending his outdoor gear, who but his wife should be drawing woof and warp in the chimney nook? Whose work but hers should this be to clothe with her own thrifty fingers the backs of them who belonged to her? But, as with the others, her work in time became less a home occupation than a public craft, and thus it got into the hands of the male creation. While ‘Spinner’ still flourishes as a surname, the feminine ‘spinster’ never obtained a place in our nomenclature.[387] This is no doubt to be attributed to that early position it took in regard to female relationship, which it still holds. This would naturally prevent it from losing its strictly feminine character.[388]

A vintner went commonly by the name of a wine tunner, tunner itself being the ordinary term for one engaged in casking liquor. ‘Tun’ rather than ‘barrel’ was in use. In the ‘Confessio Amantis’ it is said of Jupiter that he—

Hath in his cellar, as men say,

Two townes full of lovedrink.

Thus have arisen such words as ‘tunnel’ or ‘tun-dish,’ the vessel with broad rim and narrow neck, used for transferring the wine from cask to bottle. That our nomenclature should possess tokens of all this was inevitable. We find such names as ‘Edmund le Tonder’ (F.F.),[389] ‘William Tunder’ (F.F.), ‘William le Toneleur’ (H.), ‘William le Tonier’ (H.), ‘Richard le Tundur’ (T.), ‘Hugh le Tunder’ (A.), or ‘Ralph le Toneler’ (A.) Till the close of the fifteenth century wine of home-production was the common drink, for, though beer was not by any means unknown to us, it was not till the Flemings brought us the hop that it became a familiar beverage. We all know the old couplet—

Hops, Reformation, baize, and beer,

Came into England all in one year.

Previous to this various bitter ingredients had been admixtured, chiefly, however, wormwood. ‘John de la Bruere’ or ‘William de Bruario’ are the local surnames met with in early records.

But we have been wandering. The Mayor of York in 1273 was ‘John le Espicer, aut Apotecarius’[390] (so the record is put), and while the two trades were distinct in character, there can be no doubt at the period referred to there would be much in common between them. The one would sell certain spices and drugs as ingredients for dishes, while the other disposed of the same for medicinal uses. Our ‘Potticarys,’ of course, represent the latter. The term itself, professionally speaking, is fast becoming obsolete, having been forced into the background by our ‘chemists’ and ‘druggists.’ But in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries it was the one name for all such. In the ‘Pardoner’s Tale’ the abbreviated form[391] is familiarly used—

And forth he goth, no longer would he tarry,
Into the town unto a Potecary,
And praied him that he him wolde sell

Some poison, that he might his ratouns (rats) quell.

Such men as ‘John le Chirurgien’ or ‘Thomas le Surigien’ are occasionally found, but through the fact of the craft being all but entirely in the hands of the barber, they are rare, and I do not see that they have surnominally bequeathed us any descendants. Even so late as the reign of Elizabeth this connection seems to have commonly existed. In the orders and rules for an academy for her wards the following passage occurs with respect to the teaching of medicine:—‘The Phisition shall practize to reade Chirurgerie, because, thorough wante of learning therein, we have verie few good Chirurgions, yf any at all, by reason that Chirurgerie is not now to be learned in any other place than in a Barbor’s shoppe. And in that shoppe most dawngerous, especially in time of plague, when the ordinary trimming of men for clenlynes must be done by those which have to do with infected personnes.’[392] That ‘Thomas Blodlettere’ and ‘William Blodlettere’ should be conspicuous by their absence in modern rolls is not surprising. Their former existence, however, reminds us how in the past the fleshy arms of our forefathers were constantly exposed to this once thought panacea for all physical ills. It has long ceased, however, to be the resortment it was, and science, by taking it out of the tonsor’s hands, has left it to the wiser discretion of a more cultivated and strictly professional class. We have no traces of the dentist, as he too was absorbed in the barbitonsorial craft. Some lines, quoted by Mr. Hotten in his interesting book on ‘Signboards,’ remind us of this—

His pole with pewter basons hung,
Black, rotten teeth in order strung,
Rang’d cups that in the window stood,
Lined with red rags to look like blood,
Did well his threefold trade explain,
Who shaved, drew teeth, and breathed a vein.

Here, therefore, we see one more explanation of the plentifulness of our ‘Barbers,’ ‘Barbours,’ ‘Barbors,’ and more uncouth-seeming ‘Barbars.’ The old records give us an equal or even greater variety in such registrations as ‘John le Barber,’ ‘Richard le Barbour,’ ‘Nicholas le Barbur,’ ‘Thomas le Barbitonsor,’ or ‘Ralph Tonsor;’[393] while feminine skill in operating upon the chins of our forefathers is commemorated in such an entry as ‘Matilda la Barbaresse.’ It is just possible, however, that she kept an apprentice, although such things are still to be seen, I believe, as women-shavers. But the one chief sobriquet for the medical craft, and the one which, excepting our ‘Barbers,’ has made the deepest indenture upon our nomenclature, was that of ‘Leech’—was, I say, for saving in our cow-leeches it is now, professionally speaking, obsolete. In our many ‘Leeches,’ ‘Leaches,’ and ‘Leachmans,’ however, its reputation is not likely soon to be forgotten. With the country folk it was the one familiar term in use. Langland, while speaking of—

One frere Flaterie,

Physicien and surgien,

makes mention also of—

Conscience called a Leche
That could well shryve,
To go salve those that sike ben,
And through synne y-wounded.

‘Le Leche’ is the general spelling of earlier times, and it is that of the lines just quoted.[394] The Hundred Rolls furnish us with a ‘Hugh le Leche,’ while ‘Robert le Leche’ figures in the Parliamentary Writs.

Having just referred to the barber, we may here introduce an obsolete surname somewhat connected with his craft, that of ‘le Loveloker.’ In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the lovelock was as familiar as the chignon is in the nineteenth, only that the former was worn alike by men and women. They wore curls or plaits of hair, oftentimes adorned with bows or ribbons, and hung in front of the ear and about the temples. If false, the hair was fastened by means of adhesive plaster. In the ‘Affectionate Shepherd’ it is thus alluded to—

Why should thy sweete love-locke hang dangling downe,

Kissing thy girdle-stud with falling pride?

Although thy skin be white, thy hair is browne;

Oh let not then thy haire thy beautie hide.

How long this custom existed, and how commonly the exquisites of the period wore these pendants, we may judge by the fact of a ‘Walter le Loveloker’ occurring in the Hundred Rolls of the fourteenth century. Probably he added to this the craft of peruke-maker, and between the two, I doubt not, throve and grew fat—for wigs too were an early institution. The surname of occupation has been long obsolete, but the simpler ‘Lovelock’ is firmly set in our registers.

In a day when the luxury of gas was unknown, and the hearth, burning more generally with wood than coal, would throw but a chequered light athwart the room, we ought not to be surprised to find the chandlery business to be somewhat demonstrative, and so it is. In such a name as ‘Michel le Oyneter’ or ‘Hointer,’ we are reminded of the old melter of grease, and of the equally old English term ‘to oint,’ for to ‘anoint.’ With him, therefore, we may associate such of his confrères as ‘William le Candelmaker,’ ‘Roger le Chaundeler,’ ‘Richard le Chaundler,’ ‘William le Candeler,’[395] or ‘Thomas le Candleman,’ names all in existence formerly, some of which still abide with us. In ‘William le Cirgier’ we are once more reminded of the earlier religious rites of our Church and its many vigils, from a performance of which he who dealt in wax tapers, or cierges, as they were then styled, would derive no doubt a steady gain. In the ‘Romance of the Rose’ we are told—

The nine thousand maidens dere,
That beren in Heaven their cierges clere,
Of which men rede in church and sing,
Were take in secular clothing.

With these latter then it is we must associate such a name as ‘John Wexmaker.’

While, however, we are dwelling upon such and similar wants in the domestic consumption, we are naturally led to make inquiry concerning the utensils in fashion at this period, and of those who provided them. Of drinking vessels we have many, for, as we have previously hinted, this was a decidedly drinking age. Chief of all was the ‘Mazerer.’ No word could be in more familiar use in the day we are speaking of than the ‘macer’ or ‘maslin,’ carved from the maple. It was the favourite bowl of all classes of society. By the rich it was valued according as it was made from the knotted grain, or chased and rimmed with gold and silver and precious gems. We are told of Sire Thopas how that—

They fetched him first the swete win,
And made eke in a maselin,
And real spicerie.

There is scarce a record of any magnitude or importance which has not its several surnames derived from the occupation of carving this cup, and as the term itself was variously pronounced and spelt, so did the name vary. For instances the Hundred Rolls give us ‘Adam le Mazerer;’ the Close Rolls, ‘William le Macerer;’ the Warranty Rolls, ‘William le Mazeliner;’ and the London Records give us again a ‘John le Mazerer.’ Besides these we have ‘Mazelyn,’ ‘Maselyn,’ and ‘Mazarin,’ probably sign-names, the latter familiarised to us in the celebrated Cardinal of that name. Strange to say, ‘Maslin’ and ‘Masser,’ or ‘Macer,’ all rare, are now the only relics we possess of this once well-known surname and occupation. No instance I can furnish more clearly demonstrates the uncertainty of descent in our personal nomenclature. Such a name as ‘Geoffrey le Hanaper’ or ‘William Hampermaker’ bequeaths us a strange story of changed circumstance. The shorter appellation, common enough at this time, still lives in our ‘Hampers.’ While the macer was invariably of maple, the ‘hanap,’ or two-handed goblet, might be of wood or metal. From the fact of a ‘hanaper,’ Latinized in our archives into ‘hanaperium,’ being the crate where these hanaps were kept, it acquired a secondary sense of a repository for things of a more general character. Thus has arisen the ‘Hanaper Office’[396] in Chancery, where writs were treasured up in a basket; and thus also it is that we now talk of a ‘hamper,’ a term so delightfully familiar to schoolboys about Christmas time. Our common ‘Bowlers’ represent such olden personages as ‘Robert le Bollere’ or ‘Adam le Boloure,’ they who made the cheap wooden ‘bowl’ or ‘boll.’ The old spelling still survives botanically in such a phrase as we find in the Authorized Version, where it speaks of the ‘flax being bolled,’ that is, the seed vessel was forming. It is always so spelt with our mediæval writers. Thus Glutton, in the ‘Plowman’s Vision,’ after sleeping away his last drunken bout, wakes, and—

The firste worde that he warpe

Was, ‘Were is the bolle?’

‘William le Cuppere’ and ‘Richard le Kuppere,’ while engaged in the same occupation, are, speaking surnominally, absorbed, I doubt not, by our ‘Coopers’ and ‘Cowpers.’ ‘Copper’ may be but another antique form of the same. Langland speaks of—

Coupes of clere gold

And coppes of silver.

I shall have occasion almost immediately to mention Chaucer, as speaking of ‘turning cups,’ which would seem to infer that they too were often made of wood.

Another name once existing was that of ‘Doubler,’ a maker or seller of the ‘doubler’ or ‘dobeler,’ or dish; a term derived from the French ‘doublier.’ The word is still in use in the North of England,[397] and both ‘Doubler’ and ‘Doubleman’ are in our directories of to-day. The name of ‘Scutelaire’ must be set here also, though when we think of our modern coalscuttle we might imagine it somewhat of an interloper. A change, however, has come over the stricter meaning of the word. A ‘scutel’ was formerly nothing more nor less than a wooden or metallic dish or platter used on our early dressoirs for culinary purposes. It seems ever to have had its place in the dining-hall, for in the household expenses of Bishop Swinfield (Camden Soc.) we find the entry, ‘xv. scutellis, xvii. salsariis.’ The learned editor of this book, commenting upon this passage, says, ‘“scutella” is a word of somewhat extensive application to dishes or platters, saucers or salvers, and it is retained in our present English “scuttle.”’ I doubt not with him that while ‘scutum,’ a shield, is the root, the term is here intended to refer to the large flat spoons or plates used for the sauce-dishes. It is from his resemblance to these that some wide-mouthed country bumpkin is set down in the Hundred Rolls as ‘Arnold Scutelmuth,’ while the occupation of making them finds its memorial in the Rolls of Parliament in such a sobriquet as ‘James le Scutelaire.’ Speaking, however, of the dining table, we may here mention the cutler. Of such a name as ‘Henry Knyfesmythe’ I have already had occasion to hint. The cutler enjoyed, or perhaps I ought to say was the victim of, a very uncertain orthography in mediæval times, and some of the forms found are extremely curious. I may cite such personages as ‘Richard le Cutyler,’ ‘John le Cotiler,’ ‘Peter le Cotyler,’ ‘Henry le Coteler,’ or ‘Solomon le Cotiller’ as representative of those which were then most in vogue. All are now content, it would seem, to be absorbed in the simple ‘Cutler.’ Strange to say, I cannot find a single ancestor of our familiar ‘Spooner.’ A mediæval rhymester, however, speaks of ‘sponers, turners, and hatters.’ With many of these names I have just mentioned the ironmonger would have much to do. The uncertain form of the term used for this material gave rise to three familiar words, those of ‘iron,’ ‘ise,’ or ‘ire.’ Trevisa speaks of England as being plenteous in ‘veynes of metayls, of bras, of yre, of leed, of tyn, of selver.’[398] Thus while ‘Henry le Ironmonger’ dealt, as no one of my readers will doubt, in vessels and utensils of the material his name suggests, it is not to be supposed that ‘Geoffrey le Iremonger’ or ‘William le Irremongere’ was but a cant nickname for one of splenetic temperament; or that in ‘Isabel le Isemonger’ or ‘Agnes la Ismongere’ we have traces of any disposition for those frozen creams which in the hot summer time we of the nineteenth century are so glad to seek on the confectioner’s counter. All alike were hardware manufacturers. The present forms are ‘Iremonger,’ ‘Irmonger,’ and ‘Ironmonger.’

It may seem strange that wood should hold such a conspicuous position in work of a culinary nature, but it is with good reason. We must remember all our ornamental fictile vessels were unknown to our forefathers. It was not till the close of the sixteenth century they came into any settled use. It is to this circumstance we must doubtless refer the extraordinary prevalence of our ‘Turners.’ Not the least important articles of their workmanship would be the vessels they turned off from the lathe. That Jack-of-all-trades, the Miller of Trumpington, could, according to Chaucer, amongst his many other achievements, ‘turn cuppes.’[399] When wood, however, was not used, the utensils were of the roughest character—mugs, jars, and such like vessels, formed of the common baked and glazed clay, and reserved for the ruder requirements of the household. Our ‘Stephen le Crockers’ and ‘John le Crokers’ (P. W.)—for both forms then as now are found—made simply the glazed crock, or ‘crouke,’ as Chaucer has it, used for holding butter or milk or such like store—vessels, in fact, reserved for the scullery or the pantry rather than the parlour or hall. John de Trevisa, writing in 1387, says in his description of Britain: ‘There is also white clay, and red for to make of crokkes, and steenes (stone jars) and other vessels.’ The same may be said of our ‘Jarmans.’ Most of our domestic utensils, therefore, if not of wood or clay, were made of metal, and this generally of a mixed kind. ‘Henry le Brasour’ or ‘Robert le Brazur,’ now ‘Brazier’ or ‘Brasher,’ worked in brass; ‘Thomas le Latoner,’ or ‘William le Latoner,’ in latten or bronze;[400] while a mixture of lead and tin fully employed the wits and hands of our ‘Pewters,’ ‘Pewtrers,’ and ‘Founders.’[401] We must not suppose therefore, that ‘John le Discher’ or ‘Robert le Disshere’ (with their once feminine partner, ‘Margaret la Disheress’), and ‘Ranulf le Poter’ or ‘Adam le Potter’ or ‘Thomas Potman,’[402] laboured after the modern style. The ‘disher’ all but invariably worked in pewter,[403] and the ‘potter,’ if not in the same, could only resort to common clay as an alternative. ‘Calisher’ is probably the old ‘le Calicer’ or ‘Chalicer.’ The more modern spelling is found in the London Records, in 1310, where mention is made of ‘Ralph de Chichestre, Chalicer.’ The ‘chalice’ has now, however, allied itself so entirely with the sacramental office of our Church that it is hard to regard it in the light of an ordinary utensil. As a trade-sign a chalice would be readily conspicuous, and to this we owe, no doubt, our ‘Challis’s’ and ‘Challices.’

While speaking, however, of drinking vessels, I must perforce allude to the horner. I need not remind my reader how many are the descendants of such a man as ‘Richard le Horner’ or ‘John le Horner,’ but it may not equally have struck him how all-important would be his trade at such a period as this. That his chief manufacture was that of the musical horn I cannot doubt, so used as it was officially or ordinarily, at fair and festival, at dance and revelry, in time of peace and in time of war. The ‘Promptorium Parvulorum’ describes it as ‘hornare, or horne-maker.’ Still this would not be all—far from it. Windows were commonly made of this material, frames were constructed of it, the child’s horn-book being but a memory of this; lanterns were formed of it, cups of all sizes were fashioned from it, chessmen were manufactured out of it. In the ‘Franklin’s Tale’ descriptive of Winter it is said—

Janus sits by the fire with double berd,

And drinketh of his bugle-horn the wine.

As a sign-name ‘at the horn’ would be a common expression, and certainly we have had plenty of ‘Horns,’ if not the ‘horn of plenty,’ at all times during the last six hundred years.

Turning for a moment to vessels of a more general character, our ‘Coopers’ or ‘Cowpers’[404] or ‘Coupers’ have ever flourished extensively. Such forms as ‘Thomas le Cuper,’ ‘Warin le Couper,’ or ‘Richard le Cupare’ are found on every side; while even such entries as ‘Richard Cowpeman’ or ‘Roger Cowperese’ may be occasionally alighted upon. The term ‘coop’ is not in itself in common use now—indeed, saving in composition, as in hencoop, for instance, it is all but obsolete. The Norman and more correct ‘cuve’ gave us such early names as ‘Ralph le Cuver’ or ‘John le Cover,’ or ‘Adam le Covreur’ or ‘Robert le Coverur,’ the latter being one more example of a reduplicated termination.[405] Our modern ‘Covers,’ however, preserve the earlier and more simple form. Our ‘Cadmans,’ once written ‘Cademans,’ framed the cade or barrel, the sign-name of which gave us the notorious Jack Cade of early insurrectionary times. Shakespeare facetiously suggests a different origin when he makes Dick the butcher to insinuate that it was for—

Stealing a cade of herring.

In either case the same word is used, and the derivation in no way impeached. Our ‘Barrells’ are either sign-names also, or but corruptions of such an old entry as ‘Stephen le Bariller.’ ‘Alexander le Hopere’ and ‘Andrew le Hopere,’ now ‘Hooper,’ explain themselves.[406] Doubtless they would be busy enough at this time in strengthening these several barrels, cuves, coops, and cades with pliant bands, whether of wood or metal. Speaking, however, of wooden bands, reminds us of our ‘Leapers,’ ‘Leapmans,’ and ‘Lipmans.’ A ‘leap’ was a basket of flexible, but strong, materials, its occurrence in our old writers being so frequent as to need no example.[407] The ‘maund’ was similar in character, but made of more pliant bands, probably of rushes, for we find it in common use by our early fishermen. Our ‘Maunders’ and ‘Manders’ are, I think, to be set here, therefore, either as manufacturers or as wayside beggars, who bore them as the receptacles of the doles they got. Another supposition is that they were beggars who acquired the sobriquet because they maundered out their petition for alms. I cannot but think the former is the more likely derivation, our Maundy Thursday itself having got its name from the practice of doling out the gifts for the poor from the basket then so named.

But we have not even yet completed our list of surnames derivable from manufactures of this class. Our ‘Coffers’ represent seemingly the same word in a twofold capacity. We find occasional records where the cofferer was undoubtedly an official servant, a treasurer, one who carried the money of his lord in his journeys up and down.[408] More often, however, he was a tradesman, a maker or dealer in coffers or coffins, the two words being once used altogether indiscriminately.[409] Many of my readers who are familiar with Greek will recognise the more literal translation and meaning of the word in Wicklyffe’s rendering of Mark vi. 43. ‘And they token the relyves of broken mete, twelve coffyns full.’ Lacking any other name to represent the undertaker’s business, I doubt not our early ‘William le Cofferers’ and ‘Godfrey le Coffrers’ were quite able and willing to furnish forth this portion of the funeral outfit. These early surnames, then, must be set beside our already explained ‘Arkwrights,’ while, as sign-names, our ‘Coffins’ and ‘Coffers’ (supposing the latter not to be a curter form of ‘Coffrer’) will be as readily recognisable.

While, however, wood, clay, and the various cheaper metals were thus brought into requisition to provide the utensils of the household and the means of carriage, we must not forget that leather, too, had its uses in these respects. It is this lets us into the secret of the numerosity of our ‘Butlers.’ Important as undoubtedly was the ‘Boteler’ to the feudal residence, that fact alone would scarcely account for the large number of ‘le Botillers’ or ‘le Botelers’ we find in every considerable roll. The fact is, the name was both official and occupative. Of this there can be no doubt. In the York Pageant of 1415 we find walking in procession together with the ‘Pouchmakers’ the ‘Botillers’ and the ‘Cap-makers,’ all obviously engaged in the leather manufacture. The phrase ‘like finding a needle in a bottle of hay’ still preserves the idea of a bottle as understood by our forefathers four hundred years ago—that of a leathern case, whether for holding liquid or solids.[410] The hay-bottle was doubtless the bag that hung at the girth, from which, as is still the case, the driver baited his horse. Bottles for liquids were commonly of leather. The ‘black-jack’ was always such. It is of this an old ballad sings—

Then when this bottle doth grow old,
And will no longer good liquor hold,
Out of its side you may take a clout,
Will mend your shoes when they are worn out.

Thus we see that the ‘Botiller’ was, after all, in some cases but identical with the old pouch-maker, represented in our old rolls by such folk as ‘Henry Poucher’ or ‘Agnes Pouchmaker.’ Another and more Norman term for this latter was that of ‘Burser’ or ‘Purser,’ though in later days both forms have come to occupy a more official position. Such names as ‘Alard le Burser’ or ‘Robert le Pursere’ are of frequent occurrence. Nor, again, while speaking of leather, can we omit a reference to the old ‘Henry Male-maker,’ who made up travelling bags. ‘Cocke Lorelle’ mentions—

Masones, male-makers, and merbelers,

Tylers, brycke-leyers, and harde-hewers.

The modern postal mail has but extended its earlier use. We may remember in the ‘Canterbury Tales’ so pleased were the company at the end of the first story, that the host said—

Unbuckled is the male,
Let see now who shall tell another tale,
For trewely this game is wel begun.

We must not forget, however, that many of these baskets and boxes would require cordage then as now. Piers Plowman mentions ‘Robyn the Ropere,’ and both name and occupation are still familiar amongst us. In the Fabric Roll of York Minster is mentioned a ‘William Raper,’ 1446; and again in 1457, under the head of ‘Custos canabi,’ one ‘Thomas Kylwake, rapor.’ Both forms are equally common in our directories. As representative of the more technical part of the industry we may cite ‘Thomas le Winder’ and ‘Richard le Windere,’ whose progeny still dwell among us. ‘Adam le Corder’ or ‘Peter le Corder,’ or ‘George le Stringer’ or ‘Thomas Strengfellowe,’ carry us back to names of the commonest import in the fourteenth century. The—

Lanterners, stryngers, and grynders

are set together by an old rhymer. But I have already said something about them in connection with our ‘Bowyers’ and ‘Fletchers,’ so I will pass on.

There are but few traces in our nomenclature of more delicate workmanship. Much of our jewellery came from abroad. Most of that fashioned in England was under the skilled eye of the Jew. Still ‘Robert le Goldbeter’ or ‘Henry le Goldsmith’ is not an uncommon entry at this time. The Norman equivalent was met by such a name as ‘Roger le Orfevre’ or ‘Peter le Orfeure,’ and these lingered on in a more or less full form till the seventeenth century. Their memorial, too, still survives in our ‘Offers’ and ‘Offors.’[411] Ivory was much used, too, and our ‘Turners’ here also were doubtless very busy. A pretty little casket of this material, called a ‘forcer,’ small and delicately carved, used in general for storing away jewellery and other precious gems, was decidedly popular among the richer ranks of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. In an old poem, sometimes set down to Chaucer, it is said—

Fortune by strength the forcer hath unshete,

Wherein was sperde all my worldly richesse.

Our present ‘Forcers’ and early ‘Nicholas le Forcers’ and ‘Henry le Forcers’ represent this. Our use of ivory tablets is not yet obsolete, though of late years the wondrous cheapness of paper and the issue of pocketbooks and annuals have threatened to absorb their existence. Of somewhat larger size were the ‘tables’ of this time. Chaucer, in portraying the Limitour, speaks of him as followed by an attendant, bearing—

A pair of tables all of ivory,
And a pointel, ypolished fetisly,
And wrote alway the names, as he stood,
Of alle folk that gave them any good.

It is in a yet larger sense of this same word our early translators introduced the phrase ‘tables of stone,’ found in the Mosaic record—not, however, that the smaller ‘tablet’ was unknown. Apart from such a registration as ‘Bartholomew le Tabler,’ found in the London Rolls (1320), we have mentioned as living in Cambridge in 1322 one ‘Richard le Tableter.’[412] We can readily understand how useful would be his occupation to the students, who were thus provided with a writing material capable of erasure, at a time when paper was infinitely too expensive to be simply scribbled upon.[413] The pointel, or pencil, mentioned above, seems to have required also a separate manufacture, as we find the surnames ‘Roger Poyntel’ and ‘John Poyntel’ occurring in 1315 and 1319, the latter the same date within a year as the ‘Tabler’ just referred to. These tablets, I need not say, were, whether the framework were ivory, or box, or cyprus, overlaid with smeared wax, the pointel being, as its name more literally implies, the stile with which the characters were impressed. The pointel was a common ornament and hung pendent from the neck.

Two surnames far from being uninteresting must be mentioned here. They are those of ‘Walter Orlogyr’[414] and ‘Thomas Clokmaker,’ the one being found in the ‘Guild of St. George, Norwich’ (1385), the other in the ‘Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council.’[415] It is just possible also that ‘Clerkwright,’ set down in the former record, may be but a misspelling or misreading for ‘Clockwright.’ The two first-mentioned names remind us that if not of clocks, as now understood, yet the manufacture of dials did make a transient mark upon our English nomenclature. I say transient, for I find no trace of either being handed down even to the second generation by those who took these sobriquets. The ‘horologe’ seems to have become a pretty familiar term in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, for we find Wicklyffe translating 2 Kings xx. 11, ‘Isaye the profete clepide ynwardly the Lord, and browgte agen bacward by x degrees the schadewe bi lynes, bi whiche it hadde gone down thanne in the orologie of Achaz.’ The transition from clocks to bells is not a great one, as both have to do with the marking of time. I will here therefore refer to the old bellfounder, and then pass on. The ‘Promptorium Parvulorum’ gives us ‘Bellezeter’ as the then usual term for the trade, and from the occurrence of such entries as ‘Robert le Belzetere’ or ‘William le Belzetere’ we cannot doubt but that it was so. Of course a corruption of so awkward a word was inevitable, and Stow, by informing us that ‘Billiter Lane’ was formerly nothing more nor less than ‘Belzetars Lane,’ has prevented dispute from arising regarding the origin of our ‘Billiters.’[416] If, however, further proof were necessary, we could bring forward ‘Esmon Belleyeter’ from the Privy Council Ordinances.[417] Stripped of its uncouth orthography, we are here shown the process by which the changed pronunciation gradually came into use.

We must say a word or two about former coinage, and weights and measures, for all are more or less carefully memorialized in our directories of to-day. The two chief names, however, by which the early scale was represented, ‘le Aunserer’ and ‘le Balancer,’ are, I am sorry to say, either wholly, or all but wholly, extinct. Such entries as ‘Rauf le Balancer’[418] or ‘John Balauncer’ or ‘Thomas le Aunseremaker’ were perfectly familiar with our forefathers. The ‘balance’ was of the simplest character, a scale poised by the hand. The manufacture of such is mentioned by the author of ‘Cocke Lorelle’s Bote,’ when he includes—

Arowe-heders, maltemen, and cornemongers,

Balancers, tynne-casters, and skryveners.

By its repeated occurrence in our present Authorized Version this word is sure of preservation from obsoletism. The ‘auncel’ or ‘auncer’ was strictly the vessel in which the provisions were weighed. Piers Plowman says—

And the pound that she paied by
Peised a quatron moore
Than myn owene auncer.

In an appraisement of goods in 1356 mention is made, among other chattels, of ‘one balance called an auncer.’[419] Thus our somewhat rare ‘Ansers’ are not such geese as they look! Our modern notion of the Mint is that of a place where with a certain amount of State secrecy our money is coined and sent forth. Nothing of this kind existed formerly: each considerable town had its own mint, and even barons and bishops, subject to royal superintendence, could issue coin. Thus it is that we meet with more or less frequency such a name as ‘Nicholas le Cuner,’ from the old ‘cune’ or ‘coin;’ or ‘John le Meneter,’ or ‘John Monemakere,’ or ‘William le Moneur,’ or ‘William le Mynsmith,’ mint-smith, that is; and thus it is our present ‘Moniers’ or ‘Moneyers’ and ‘Minters’ have arisen. Our ‘Stampers’ remind us of the chief feature of coinage, the die. The system being thus general, and subject to but an uncertain and irregular supervision, abuse of alloy crept in, and it was to remedy this, it is said, our ‘Testers’ and ‘Sayers,’ corrupted from assayers, were appointed. ‘Sayer’ or ‘Sayers,’ however, I have elsewhere derived differently, and in most cases I feel confident the account there given is more approximate to the truth.

Literature and art in regard to the market are not without their relics. So far as the outside of books was concerned, our former ‘John le Bokbinders’ or ‘Dionisia le Bokebynders’ are sufficiently explicit. These, judging from their date, we must suppose to have bound together leathern documents and parchments of value, or books of manuscript. Speaking of parchment, however, we are reminded of the importance of this for testamentary and other legal purposes. Thus we find such names as ‘Stephen le Parchemyner’ or ‘William le Parchemynere’ to be common at this time. They afford but one more instance of an important and familiar name failing of descent. In the York Pageant, mentioned elsewhere, the ‘Parchemyners’[420] and ‘Bukbynders’ marched together.[421]

The old sealmaker, an important tradesman in a day when men were much better known by their crests than now, left its mark in the early ‘Seler.’ In the ‘Issues of the Exchequer’ we find a certain ‘Hugh le Seler’ commissioned to make a new seal for the See of Durham. The modern form is ‘Sealer.’ Professional writers and copiers were common. The calling of scribe has given us our many ‘Scrivens’ and ‘Scriveners,’ descendants of the numerous ‘William le Scrivayns’ and ‘John le Scrivryns’ of our mediæval rolls. Piers Plowman employs the word—

I wel noght scorne, quoth Scripture,

But if scryveynes lye.

Our ‘Writers’ are but the Saxon form of the same, while ‘le Cirograffer’ would seem to represent the Greek. A ‘William le Cirograffer’ occurs in the Hundred Rolls. As a writer of indentures he is frequently mentioned. An act passed in the first year of Edward IV. speaks of such officers as ‘clerk of our council, clerk or keeper of oure Hanaper, office of cirograffer, and keeper of oure Wills.’[422] Employed in the skilled art of text-letter we may next mention such men as ‘Godfrey le Lomynour’ or ‘Ralph Illuminator’ or ‘Thomas Liminer.’ A poem, already quoted more than once, makes reference to—

Parchemente makers, skynners, and plowers,

Barbers, Boke-bynders, and lyminers.[423]

How beautiful were the decorations and devices upon which they spent their care, some of the missals and other service books of this early period show.[424] This, I need scarcely add, was a favourite monastic pursuit. I do not know that ‘Limner’ still exists as a surname, unless it be in our ‘Limmers.’ That it lingered on in its more correct form till the beginning of the eighteenth century is certain, as the Tostock register serves to show, for it is there recorded that ‘John Limner of Chevington, and Eliz. Sibbes of this town, were married, August 22nd, 1700.’ (Sibbes’ ‘Works,’ vol. i. p. cxlii.)

Before closing this necessarily hurried résumé of mediæval trade, we must say a word or two about early shipping. We have mentioned certain articles, especially those of spicery and wines, which were then used, as the result of foreign merchant enterprise. Much of all this came as the growth and produce of the opposite Continent. Much again reached our shore brought hither from Eastern lands in caravan and caravel by Venetian traders. Our ‘Marchants,’ ‘Merchants,’ or ‘le Marchants,’ we doubtless owe to this more extended commerce. Apart from these, however, we are far from being without names of a more seafaring nature. It is a strange circumstance that our now one general term of ‘sailor’ had in the days we are considering but the barest existence surnominally or colloquially. In the former respect I only find it twice, the instances being those of ‘John le Saillur’ and ‘Nicholas le Saler,’ both to be found in the Hundred Rolls. It may be said to be a word of entirely modern growth. The expression then in familiar use was ‘Shipman,’[425] and ‘Shipman’ is the surname best represented in our nomenclature. It is by this name one of Chaucer’s company at the Tabard is pictured forth—

A Shipman ther was woned far by West,
He knew wel alle the havens as they were,
Fro’ Gotland to the Cape de Finisterre,
And every creke, in Bretagne, and in Spaine;
His barge ycliped was the ‘Magdelaine.’

This, intended doubtless to set forth the wide extent of his adventure, would seem cramped enough for the seafarer of the nineteenth century. The word itself lingered on for some length of time, being found both in our Homilies and in the Authorized Version, but seems to have declined towards the end of the seventeenth century. ‘Henry le Mariner’s’ name still lives among us, sometimes being found in the abbreviated form of ‘Marner,’ and ‘Shipper’ or ‘Skipper’ is not as yet obsolete. The strictly speaking feminine ‘Shipster’ comes in the quaint old poem of ‘Cocke Lorelle’s Bote,’ where mention is made among others of—

Gogle-eyed Tomson, shipster of Lyn.

‘Cogger,’ found in such an entry as ‘Hamond le Cogger’ or ‘Henry le Cogger,’ carries us back to the old ‘cogge’ or fishing smack, a term very familiar on the east coast, and one not yet altogether obsolete. It seems to have been often used to carry the soldiery across the Channel to France and the Low Country border, or even further.[426] Our cockswain was, I doubt not, he who attended to the tiller of the boat. We still speak also of a cock-boat, written in the ‘Promptorium Parvulorum’ as ‘cog bote,’ and doubtless it was originally some smaller craft that waited upon and attended the other. Thus it is highly probable that ‘le Cockere’ may in some instances have been but equivalent to ‘le Cogger.’[427] ‘Richard le Botsweyn,’ ‘Edward Botswine,’ ‘Peter Boatman,’ ‘Jacob Boatman,’ or the more local ‘Gerard de la Barge,’ are all still familiar enough in an occupative sense, but surnominally have been long extinct, with the exception of the last.[428]

Coming to port, whether it were York, or Kingston, or Chester, or London, we find ‘Adam le Waterman,’ or ‘Richard Waterbearer,’ or ‘William le Water-leder’ busy enough by the waterside.[429] The latter term, however, was far the commonest in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. I have already mentioned the sense of ‘lead’ at this time, that of carrying. Piers Plowman, to quote but one more instance, says in one place—

With Lumbardes letters
I ladde gold to Rome,
And took it by tale there.

In the York Pageant of 1415 we find two separate detachments of these water-leaders in procession, one in conjunction with the bakers, the other with the cooks. It would be doubtless these two classes of shopkeepers their duties of carrying stores, especially flour, to and from the different vessels would bring them in contact with most. Our ‘Leaders,’ ‘Leeders,’ ‘Leders,’ and ‘Loders’ are either the more general carrier or an abbreviated form of the above.[430] ‘Gager,’ though rarely met with now, is a descendant of ‘William le Gageour,’ or ‘Alexander le Gauger,’ or ‘Henry le Gaugeour,’ of many a mediæval record. His office was to attend to the King’s revenue at our seaports, and though not strictly so confined, yet his duties were all but entirely concerned in the measurement of liquids, such as oil, wine, honey.[431] The tun, the pipe, the tierce, the puncheon, casks and barrels of a specified size—these came under his immediate supervision, and the royal fee was accordingly. Such a name as ‘Josceus le Peisur,’ now found as ‘Poyser’ or ‘Henry le Waiur,’ that is, ‘Weigher,’[432] met with now also in the form of ‘Weightman,’ represented the passage of more solid merchandise. The old form of ‘poise’ was ‘peise.’ Piers Plowman makes Covetousness to confess—

I lerned among Lumbardes
And Jewes a lesson,
To weye pens with a peis,
And pare the heaviest.

Richard in ‘Richard the III.’ finely says—

I’ll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap,

Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow.

(Act v. scene 3.)

With the above, therefore, we must associate our ‘Tollers,’ once registered as ‘Bartholomew le Tollere’ or ‘Ralph le Toller,’ together with our ‘Tolemans’ and ‘Tolmans,’ they who took the King’s levy at fair and market—by the roadside and the wharf.[433] Piers Plowman, in a list of other decent folk, includes—

Taillours and tynkers,
And tollers in markettes,
Masons and mynours,
And many other crafts.

Cocke Lorelle is not so complimentary. He says—

Then come two false towlers in nexte,

He set them by pykers (thieves) of the beste.[434]

In concluding this chapter, and our survey of trade generally, it will be necessary to the completion thereof that we should say a word or two about the money trading of four hundred years ago or more. Banks, bank-notes, bills of exchange, drafts to order—all these are as familiar to the tongues of the nineteenth century as if the great car of commerce had ever gone along on such greased and comfortable wheels. But I need not say it is not so. Very little money in the present day is practically coin. Our banks have it all. It was different with our ancestors. As a rule it was stored up in some secret cupboard or chest. Hence it is, as I have shown, the trade of ‘le Coffer’ and the office of ‘le Cofferer’ are so much thrust before our notice in surveying mediæval records. Still, trading in money was largely carried on, so far, at any rate, as loans were concerned. The Jew, true to his national precedents, was then, I need not say, the pawnbroker of Europe, and as his disciple, the Lumbard soon bid fair to outstrip his master. Under the Plantagenet dynasty both found a prosperous field for their peculiar business in England, and, as I have elsewhere said, Lombard Street[435] to this day is a memorial of the settlement of the latter. In such uncertain and changeful times as these, kings, and in their train courtiers and nobles, soon learnt the art, not difficult in initiation, of pawning jewels and lands for coin. The Malvern Dreamer speaks familiarly of this—

I have lent lordes
And ladies my chaffare,
And been their brocour after,
And bought it myselve;
Eschaunges and chevysaunces
With such cheffare I dele.

This species of commerce is early marked by such names as ‘Henry le Chaunger’ or ‘Adam le Chevestier,’[436] while still better-known terms are brought to our notice by entries like ‘John le Banckere,’ ‘Roger le Bencher,’ ‘Thomas le Brokur,’ or ‘Simon le Brokour.’ Holinshed, in the form of ‘brogger,’ has the latter to denote one who negotiated for coin. As ‘Broggers,’ too, we met them in the York Pageant. There, probably, they would transact much of the business carried on between ourselves and the Dutch in the shipping off of fleeces, or the introduction of the cloth again from the Flemish manufacturers.[437] The pawnbroker of modern days, dealing in petty articles of ware, was evidently an unknown personage at the date we are considering. The first distinctive notice of him I can light upon is in the ‘Statutes of the Realm’ of the Stuart period. It will be there found that (chapter xxi.) James I., speaking of the change from the old broker into the more modern pawnbroker, refers to the former as one who went ‘betweene Merchant Englishe and Merchant Strangers, and Tradesmen in the contrivinge, makinge and concluding Bargaines and Contractes to be made betweene them concerning their wares and merchandises,’ and then adds that he ‘never of any ancient tyme used to buy and sell garments, household stuffe, or to take pawnes and bills of sale of garments and apparele, and all things that come to hand for money, laide out and lent upon usury, or to keepe open shoppes, and to make open shewes, and open trade, as now of late yeeres hathe and is used by a number of citizens, etc.’

Appendix to Chapters IV. and V.

It will perchance help to familiarize the reader with the manner in which the occupative names contained in the two preceding chapters arose, if I transcribe several lists of tradesmen which have come across my notice while engaged in the work of collecting surnames for my index. The first is found in most of the Yorkshire County Histories, and is a record of the order of the Pageant for the City of York in 1415. The second is the order of the Procession of the Craftsmen and Companies of Norwich from the Common Hall in 1533. This list will be found in Blomefield’s ‘Norfolk,’ vol. ii. p. 148. The third is the order of the Chester Play, inaugurated 1339, and discontinued 1574. This list will be found in Ormerod’s ‘Cheshire,’ vol. i. p. 300. These records possess an intrinsic value, apart from other matters, as proving to the reader the leading position which these several cities held as centres of industry in the thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries. The last list I would furnish is that met with in the quaint poem entitled ‘Cocke Lorelle’s Bote,’ published about the beginning of the reign of Henry VIII., and purporting to give a list of the tradesmen and manufacturers of the metropolis at that time. I have quoted merely the portion that concerns my purpose, and it is taken from the edition published by the Percy Society. Though not perfect, that edition is undoubtedly the best.

I.

The Order for the Pageants of the Play of Corpus Christi, in the time of the Mayoralty of William Alne, in the third Year of the Reign of King Henry V. Anno 1415, compiled by Roger Burton, Town Clerk.

Tanners.

Plasterers.

Carde-makers.

Fullers.

Coupers.

Armourers.

Gaunters.

Shipwrights.

Fyshmongers.

Pessyners.

Mariners.

Pchemyners.

Bukbynders.

Hosyers.

Spicers.

Peuterers.

Founders.

Tylers.

Chaundelers.

Goldsmithes.

Orfeures.

Gold-beters.

Mone-makers.

Masons.

Marashals.

Girdellers.

Naylers.

Sawters.

Sporiers.

Lorymers.

Barbers.

Vyntners.

Smythes.

Fevers.

Pennagers.

Plummers.

Patten-makers.

Pouch-makers.

Botillers.

Cap-makers.

Vestment-makers.

Skynners.

Cuttellers.

Blade-smythes.

Shethers.

Scalers.

Buckle-mekers.

Horners.

Bakers.

Waterleders.

Cordwaners.

Bowers.

Fletchers.

Tapisers.

Couchers.

Littesters.

Cukes.

Waterleders.

Sauce-makers.

Milners.

Tiel-makers.

Ropers.

Cevers.

Turners.

Hayresters.

Bollers.

Sherman.

Pynners.

Lateners.

Payntors.

Bouchers.

Pulterers.

Satellers.

Sellers.

Glasiers.

Carpenters.

Joyners.

Cartwrights.

Carvers.

Sawyers.

Wyndrawers.

Broggers.

Wool-pakkers.

Wadmen.

Escriveners.

Lumners.

Questors.

Dubbors.

Taillyoures.

Potters.

Drapers.

Lynwevers.

Wevers of Wolle.

Hostilers.

Mercers.

Porters, 8 torches.

Coblers, 4 torches.

Cordwaners, 14 torches.

Carpenters, 6 torches.

Chaloners, 4 torches.

Fullers, 4 torches.

Cottellers, 2 torches.

Wevers, torches.

Girdellers, torches.

Taillyoures, torches.

It is ordained that the Porters and Coblers should go first; then, of the Right, the Wevers and Cordwaners; on the Left, the Fullors, Cutlers, Girdellers, Chaloners, Carpenters, and Taillyoures; then the better sort of Citizens; and after the Twenty-four, the Twelve, the Mayor, and four Torches of Mr. Thomas Buckton.

II.

The Order of the Procession of the Occupations, Crafts, or Companies (Norwich) to be made on Corpus Christi Day, from the Common Hall. (1533 A.D.)

1. The Company of Masons, Tilers, Limeburners, and Smiths.

2. The Carpenters, Gravours, Joiners, Sawers, Seivemakers, Wheelwrights, Fletchers, Bowers, and Turners.

3. The Reders, Thaxters, Rede-sellers, Cleymen, and Carriers.

4. The Butchers, Glovers, and Parchment-makers.

5. The Tanners.

6. The Cordwaners, Coblers, Curriers, and Collarmakers.

7. The Shermen, Fullers, Woolen and Linnen Weavers, and Wool-chapmen.

8. The Coverlet-weavers, Darnick-weavers, and Girdlers.

9. The Combers, Tinmen.

10. The Vintners, Bakers, Brewers, Inn-keepers, Tiplers, Coopers, and Cooks.

11. The Fishmongers, Freshwater-fishers, and Keelmen.

12. The Waxchandlers, Barbers, and Surgeons.

13. The Cappers, Hatters, Bagmakers, Paintmakers, Wier-drawers and Armourers.

14. The Pewterers, Brasiers, Plombers, Bellfounders, Glaziers, Steynors.

15. The Tailors, Broiderers, Hosiers, and Skinners.

16. The Goldsmiths, Diers, Calanderers, and Sadlers.

17. The Worsted-weavers and Irlonderes.

18. The Grocers and Raffmen.

19. The Mercers, Drapers, Scriveners, and Hardwaremen.

20. The Parish Clerks and Sextons, with their bannerwayts, and minstrals.

Blomefield’s ‘Norfolk,’ vol. ii. p. 148.

III.

The Chester Play was inaugurated 1339. The following trades, guilds, and companies took part in it:—

First List.

1. The Barkers and Tanners.

2. Drapers and Hosiers.

3. Drawers of Dee and Water Leaders.

4. Barbers, Waxchandlers, Leeches.

5. Cappers, Wyerdrawers, Pynners.

6. Wrightes, Slaters, Tylers, Daubers, Thatchers.

7. Paynters, Brotherers (i.e. embroiderers), Glasiers.

8. Vintners and Marchants.

9. Mercers, Spicers.

Second List.

1. Gouldsmithes, Masons.

2. Smiths, Forbers, Pewterers.

3. Butchers.

4. Glovers, Parchment-makers.

5. Corvesters and Shoemakers.

6. Bakers, Mylners.

7. Boyeres, Flechers, Stringeres, Cowpers, Turners.

8. Irnemongers, Ropers.

9. Cookes, Tapsters, Hostlers, Inkeapers.

Third List.

1. Skinners, Cardemakers, Hatters, Poynters, Girdlers.

2. Sadlers, Fusters.

3. Taylors.

4. Fishmongers.

5. Sheremen.

6. Hewsters and Bellfounders.

7. Weavers and Walkers.

The last procession occurred in 1574.

Ormerod’s ‘Cheshire,’ vol. i. p. 300.

IV.

Extract from ‘Cocke Lorelle’s Bote.’

The fyrst was goldesmythes and grote clyppers:

Multyplyers and clothe thyckers:

Called fullers everychone:

There is taylers, taverners, and drapers:

Potycaryes, ale-brewers, and bakers:

Mercers, fletchers, and sporyers:

Boke-prynters, peynters, bowers:

Myllers, carters, and botylemakers:

Waxechaundelers, clothers, and grocers:

Wollemen, vynteners, and flesshemongers:

Salters, jowelers, and habardashers:

Drovers, cokes, and pulters:

Yermongers, pybakers, and waferers:

Fruyters, chesemongers, and mynstrelles:

Talowe chaundelers, hostelers, and glovers:

Owchers, skynners, and cutlers:

Bladesmythes, fosters, and sadelers:

Coryers, cordwayners, and cobelers:

Gyrdelers, forborers, and webbers:

Quyltemakers, shermen, and armorers:

Borlers, tapestry-worke-makers, and dyers:

Brouderers, strayners, and carpyte-makers:

Sponers, torners, and hatters:

Lyne-webbers, setters, with lyne-drapers:

Roke-makers, copersmythes, and lorymers:

Brydel-bytters, blackesmythes, and ferrars:

Bokell-smythes, horseleches, and goldbeters:

Fyners, plommers, and peuters:

Bedmakers, fedbedmakers, and wyre-drawers:

Founders, laten workers, and broche-makers:

Pavyers, bell-makers, and brasyers:

Pynners, nedelers, and glasyers:

Bokeler-makers, dyers, and lether-sellers:

Whyte-tanners, galyors, and shethers:

Masones, male-makers, and merbelers:

Tylers, bryck-leyers, harde-hewers:

Parys-plasterers, daubers, and lymeborners:

Carpenters, coupers, and joyners:

Pype-makers, wode-mongers, and orgyn-makers:

Coferers, carde-makers, and carvers:

Shyppe-wrightes, whele-wrights, and sowers:

Harpe-makers, leches, and upholsters:

Porters, fesycyens, and corsers:

Parchemente-makers, skynners, and plowers:

Barbers, bokebynders, and lymners:

Repers, faners, and horners:

Pouche-makers, below-farmes, cagesellers:

Lanterners, stryngers, grynders:

Arowe-heders, maltemen, and corne-mongers:

Balancers, tynne-casters, and skryveners:

Stacyoners, vestyment-swoers, and ymagers:

Sylke-women, pursers, and garnysshers:

Table-makers, sylkedyers, and shepsters:

Goldesheares, keverchef, launds, and rebone makers:

Tankarde-berers, bougemen, and spereplaners:

Spynsters, carders, and cappeknytters:

Sargeauntes, katche-pollys, and somners:

Carryers, carters, and horsekepers:

Courte-holders, bayles, and honters:

Constables, hede-borowes, and katers:

Butlers, sterchers, and mustarde-makers:

Hardewaremen, mole-sekers, and ratte-takers:

Bewardes, brycke-borners, and canel-rakers:

Potters, brome-sellers, pedelers:

Shepherds, coweherdes, and swyne-kepers:

Broche-makers, glas-blowers, candelstycke-casts:

Hedgers, dykers, and mowers:

Gonners, maryners, and shypmasters:

Chymney-swepers and costerde-mongers:

Lodemen and bere-brewers:

Fysshers of the sea and muskel-takers.

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 ‘Oda[599] 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.

INDEX OF INSTANCES.

Aaron, 83.

- Aaron le Blund, T.

- Aron Judde, A.

A’Becket (v. Beckett) 85.

Abbe, 191.

- Radulf le Abbe, C.

Abbott, 191.

- Juliana Abbot, A.

- Ric. Abbot, M.

Abel, 82.

- Abel le Orfeure, T.

- Thomas Abel, A.

Abigail, 100.

- Abigail Cordell, Z.

- Abigail Tayler, W 16.

Ablett, Ablott, 82. Abalotta de Forde, A.

- William Abelot, M.

- Ric. Abelote, V 11.

Abner, 77.

Above-brook, 108.

- John Abovebrok, A.

Above-town, 108.

- Adelina Abovetoun, A.

- William Abovetoun, M.

Abraham.

- Gerard Abbraham, A.

- Robert Abraam, A.

Absolom, 83.

- Absolon in le Dyche, A.

- Absolon fil. Simon, C.

Abstinence, 103.

- Abstinence Pougher, 104, n.

Acatour, 210.

- Bernard le Acatour, M.

- John le Acatour, M.

Accepted, 104.

- Accepted Frewen, 104, n.

Achatour, 210.

- Jocius le Achatur, A.

- Henry le Achator, H.

Acherman (v. Acreman), 259.

- Alex. Acherman, A.

Acland, 120.

- John Acklande, Z.

Acreman, 259.

- Roger le Acreman, A.

Acroyd, 120.

- Henry Aykeroid, Z.

- Ric. de Akerode, W 2.

Acton, 120.

- Reiner de Acton, M.

- Engelard de Actone, A.

Adam, 3, 81.

- Adam fil. Warin, M.

- Adam le Flecher, T.

Adams, 81.

- Juliana Adams, A.

- Richard Addames, Z Z.

Adamson, 81.

- Hugh fil. Adam, A.

- Hoel fil. Adam, A.

Adcock, Adcocks, 81.

- William Adcock, W 9.

- Stephen Adcock, Z.

- Hamme, son of Adecok, A A 2.

Addison, 81.

- Gilbert fil. Adæ, C.

- Thomas Adesone, R.

Adela (v. Adelina), 19.

- Adela uxor Roberti, C.

Adelaid (v. Alard), 21.

- Adam Adelaad, A.

Adelina, 19.

- Adelina le Heyr, A.

- Henry fil. Adelyne, A.

Adieu, 512.

- William Adieu, M.

Adkins, 81.

- Adekin le Fuller, A.

- William Adekyns, E E.

Adkinson, 81.

- William Adkinson (London: Maitland).

Adlard (v. Adelard).

Agate, 111.

- Richard Atte-gate, A.

- Leonard Agate, Z.

Agatha, 19.

- Agatha le Kareter, A.

- Agatha de Dene, B.

Agnes, 19.

- Thomas fil. Agneta, J.

- Agnes le Brune, A.

Agrippina, 100.

- Agrippina Bingley, T T.

Aguiler, 342.

- Thomas le Aguiler, M.

- William le Aguiler, Q.

- Lucas le Aguler, A.

Aikman (v. Acreman), 259.

Ainsworth, 134.

- Margaret Aynesworthe, Z.

Akerman (v. Acreman), 259.

- Peter le Akerman, A.

- John le Akurman, B.

Alabaster, 225.

- Richard le Alblaster, B.

- Henry le Alblaster, M.

- Reginald le Arbelestre, A.

Alan (v. Allen).

- Alan fil. Warin, M.

- Alan le Chapelein, L.

Alanson (v. Allinson).

- Brien fil. Alan, C.

- William Alynson, W 2.

- Thomas Allason, Z.

Alard, 21.

- Alard le Fleminge, B.

- Alard le Burser, H.

- Robert Alard, M.

Alaric.

- Robert Alrych, A.

- Agnes Alrich, A.

Albert, 29.

- John Albert, A.

- Robert Alberd, A.

Alcock, 55.

- John Alcoc, A.

- John Alkok, H.

Alder, 154.

Alderman, 186.

- Thomas Alderman, V 8.

- Robert le Alderman, A.

- Benjamin Aldermannus, A.

Alderson, 21.

- John fil. Aldrech, C.

- Christopher Alderson, W 8.

Aldershot, 116.

- Robert de Alreshawe, M.

- Thomas Allshawe, X X.

Aldred, 21.

- Aldred fil. Roger, J.

- Aldred Andre, A.

Aldrech, Aldrich, 21.

- John Alrich, M.

- John Aldrich, A.

Alecot (v. Alicot), 87.

Alefounder, 392, n.

- William Alefounder, F F.

- Mary Alfounder, P P.

- Richard Alefounder, Z.

Aleman, 165.

- Custance de Alemania, A.

- William Alemannus, C.

- John le Aleman, W 7.

Alexander, 98 (v. Saunder).

- William Alexandre, M.

- Nicholas Alesandre, A.

- Alexander fil. Seman, J.

Aleyn (v. Allen).

- Aleyn Forman, H.

- Aleyn, M.

Alfred, 21.

- Alured fil. Ivo, J.

- Alfred Dionysius Langsomer, A.

- Robert fil. Alfridi, A.

Alianora, 19, 72.

- Alianora Bushe, E E.

- Alicia Alianor, R.

Alice, Alicia, 19, 87, n.

- Nicholas fil. Alicia, A.

- Richard fil. Alice, R.

Alicot, 87.

- Alecot fil. Almar, C.

- William Alicot, A.

Alina (v. Alinot), 72.

- Alina Atte-broc, A.

Alinot, Alinet, 19, 72.

- William Alinot, A.

- Alnot Red, A.

- Havisia Alinet, A.

Aliot, 19, 72, 87.

- Robert Aliot, A.

- Walter Aliot, A.

- Alyott de Symondston, A A 2.

Alison

- (1), 87, n.

- Ric. fil. Alise, A.

- Goselin fil. Alice, A.

- John Alicesone, R R 1.

- (2), 87, n.

- Alisceon de Tuxforth, W 2.

- Alison Gelyot, H.

- Alison Wrangwish, W 11.

Alkins, 87.

- John Alkyn, M.

Allbright, 29.

- Aylbreda de Cheny, A.

- Aylbricht le Turner, A.

- Albred de la Haye, J.

Allcock, 87.

- William Allcocke, Z Z.

- John Allcock, Z Z.

Allen.

- Thomas fil. Alani, M.

- Will. fil. Alani, R.

Allinson (v. Alanson).

- John Alleynsone, S.

- William Aleynsonne, B B.

- George Alonsonne, Z Z.

Allison (v. Alison), 16, 87.

Allkins (v. Alkins), 87.

Allman (v. Aleman), 165.

Allott, 87.

- Alote le Messer, A.

- Alot Chapman, F F.

- Thomas fil. Alote, M.

Allured (v. Alfred), 21.

- Alured Ape, A.

- William Alured, M.

Almaine (v. Aleman), 165.

Almaric, Almeric, 18, 29.

- Almaric Breton, M.

- Almaricus le Botiller, B.

Almoner, 193. Robert le Almoner, H.

Alured (v. Allured), 21.

Alwright, 278.

- Richard Alwright, Z.

Amabilla, 19, 70.

- Amabilla le Blund, B.

- Amabil fil. Emme, J.

Amand (v. Samand), 125.

- Aymer de St. Amand, M.

Amary, 29.

- Rob. Amary, A.

- Roger Ammary, A.

Amberson, 29.

- Richard Amberson, 29, n.

- Robert Amberson, 29, n.

Ambler, 440.

- Thomas le Amblur, A.

- William Ambler, W 9.

Ame (v. Eame), 429.

Amelia (v. Emilia), 19, 87, n.

Amelot (v. Amelia), 87, n.

- Nic. Amelot, A.

- Ric. fil. Amelot, A.

Americ, 29.

- Americus Balistarius, E.

- Americ Wylson, W 3.

Amery (v. Emery), 29.

- Hugh Amery, H.

Amiable, 468.

- Edward Amiable, Z.

- Joan Amiable, Z.

- Thomas Amable, A.

Amice, 17.

- Geoff. fil. Amice, R.

- Amice le Noble, A.

- Robert fil. Amicie, M.

Amiger (v. Armiger), 199.

- Robert Amiger, Z.

Amiot (v. Amy).

- Amiot de Pontefracto, DD.

- Walter fil. Amiot, G G.

- William Amiot, A.

Amner (v. Almoner), 193.

Amor, Amor, 111.

- Agnes atte-More, B.

Amy (v. Amelia).

- Thomas Amye, E E.

- Amy le Strange, F F.

Ananias, 100.

- Ananias Dyce, T T.

Ancell (v. Ansell).

- William Auncell, M.

Anchor, 196.

- Sarra Ancorita, A.

Anderson, 94.

- Alice fil. Andre, A.

- Colyn Andresonne, B B.

- John Andrewson, Z Z.

Andrew, Andrews, 94.

- Nic. fil. Andree, A.

- Emma Andreu, A.

- Andreas le Orfeure, L.

Angel-Dei, 511.

- Henry Angel-Dei, A.

Anger, 158.

- Isabella Anger, H.

- Hugh de Angiers, J.

- Robert Angier, X X.

Angwin, 158.

- Geoffrey le Aungevyn, L.

- Maurice le Anjevin, A.

- Simon le Angevin, E.

Anker (v. Anchor), 196.

Anketell, 22.

- Anketil le Mercer, A.

- Peter fil. Anketill, C.

- Anketill fil. Thomas, K.

Annabel, 19.

- Anabilla de Harpham, W 2.

- Peter fil. Annabel, M.

Annot, Annotson, (v. Alianora), 72.

- John Annotson, F F.

- Enota Coley, A.

- William Annotyson, F F.

- Anota Canun, A.

Anora (v. Alianora), 72.

- Annora Vidua, A.

- Annora le Aencurt, K.

- Annore Beine, A.

Ansell, Anselm, 11.

- William Ansel, A.

- Anselm de Bamburgh, A.

- John fil. Anselmi, R.

Anser, 403.

Ansketil (v. Asketil), 24.

- Robert fil. Anskitiel, W 12.

Anson, 72.

- Elisha Annyson, F F.

- Richard Anyson, F F.

Anthony (v. Antony).

Antioch, 169.

- Nicholas Antioch, M.

- Robert de Antiochia, E.

Antonison, 54.

- Agnes Antonison, Z.

Antony.

- John fil. Antony, A.

- Antony Stilman, H.

Anvers, 170.

- Richard de Anvers, A.

- Thomas de Anvers, R.

Ape, 492.

- John le Ape, A.

- Alured Ape, A.

Apollonia, 100.

- Apollonia Cotton, T T.

Applegarth, 133.

- Robert del Apelgargh, A.

- Geoffrey de Appelgarth, K.

Appletree, 129.

- Thomas Appletree, Z.

Apple-john, 504.

Appleyard, 261, 133.

- Nicholas de Apelyerd, A.

- Thomas Appleyeard, Z Z.

Arblast, Arblaster 225.

- John le Arblaster, A.

- Reginald le Arblaster, B.

- Urric le Arbelastre, J.

Archbishop (v. Archevesk), 186, 508.

- Hugh Archiepiscopus, C.

Archdeacon, 187.

- Richard l’Ercedekne, V 9.

- Thomas le Arsdekene, A.

- Adam Ercedekne, A.

Archer, 225.

- William le Archer, B.

- Pagan le Archier, E.

Archevesk, 186.

- Hugo le Archevesk, C.

- William le Arceveske, E.

Archpriest, 187.

- Roger le Archeprest, J.

Argent, 168.

- Reginald de Argente, A.

- John de Argenteyn, R.

Arkell, Arkettle, 25, n.

- William Arkell, W 2.

- Simon fil. Arkill, E.

- Roger Arketel, A.

Arkwright, 279.

- Hugh Arkewright, Z Z.

- Lawrence Arkewrighte, Z Z.

Arme, 436.

Armer, Armerer, 222.

- Gwydo le Armerer, A.

- Simon le Armurer, G.

- Adam le Armerer, M.

- Marion Armourer, W 18.

Armiger, 199.

- Thomas Armiger, C.

- Nicholas Armiger, E.

Arminger (v. Armiger), 199.

- Jeffry Arminger, Z.

Armitage, 196.

- John Harmaytayge, W 3.

- Gregory Armitage, Z.

Armour (v. Armer), 222.

Amstrang, Armstrong, 436.

- Adam le Armstrang, G.

- William le Armestrang, G.

- Guy le Armerecte, A.

Arnison, 28.

Arnald, 28.

- Walter fil. Arnald, A.

- Arnald atte Brok, A.

Arnet, 28.

- Hugh Arnyet, M.

- Milisent Arnet, A.

Arnold (v. Ernald), 28.

- Arnoldus Bassett, E.

- Arnold Lym, H.

- Arnold Lupus, H.

Arnott (v. Arnett), 28.

- Ernot Stead, W 14.

Arnulph.

- Arnulph Dogmaw, A.

- Arnulfus de Derham, C.

Arras, 169.

- Ralph de Arras, A.

- Robert de Arraz, N.

Arrowsmith, 227, 281.

- William Arowesmythe, Z Z.

- John Arrowsmyth, F.

Arsmith (v. Arrowsmith), 227, 281.

- Richard Arsmith, Z.

Arter, 158.

- Robert de Artoys, H.

Arthur, 19, 20.

- William fil. Arthuri, A.

- Harthurus Bosewyll, W 2.

Aquila, 100.

- Aquila Wykes, T T.

Ash (v. Ashe), 154.

Ashburner 264.

- Peter Ashburner, Z Z.

- Thomas Ashburner, Z Z.

Ashe 154.

- Paganel del Ash, M.

- Roger atte Ashe, F F.

Asher, 113.

Ashes, 129.

Ashford, 146.

- Walter de Ashford, M.

- Roger Ashford, Z.

Ashley, 119.

- John de Ashlegh, K.

- Oliva de Esseligh, E.

Ashman, 113.

- Walter Ascheman, A.

- Thom. Asheman, B.

Ashover, 128.

- Walter de Ashovere, X X 4.

Ashurst, 116.

- Adam de Ashurst, M.

- John Asshenhyrst, Z.

Asketil, Askell, 24, 25.

- Jordan Asketil, A.

- William Asketil, Q.

- Askill le Fisherman, V 8.

Assman, 285.

- Richard Asseman. A.

- Roger Asman, A.

Astrier, 241.

- William le Astrier, E.

Atcliffe, 110.

Atfield, 110.

- Linota Ate-felde, A.

- John Atefelde, A.

Athill, 110.

- Bateman Ate-hil, A.

- Gregory Attehill, F F.

Atkins, 81.

- William Atkyns, F.

- Thomas Atkyns, H.

Atkinson, 81.

- John Attechenson, X X. 1.

- Raufe Atkinson, Z.

- Mariona Atkynsone, W 19.

Atlay, Atlee, 119, 110.

- Lawrence Atlee, Z.

- Hugh Atlee, Z.

Attenborough, Atterbury, 110.

- Walter Atteburg, A.

- John Atte-bury, M.

Atton, 110.

- William Atton, B.

Attridge, 110.

- Jacob Atteriche, A.

Attree, 110.

Attwell, Atwell, 110.

- Agnes Atte-well, B.

- Wil. Atte Welle, M.

- John Atwelle, M.

Atwater, 110.

- Elias Atwatere, A.

- William Atte-Water. (Lower’s English Surnames.)

Atwood, 110, 154.

- Richard Ate-wode, A.

- Adam Atte-wood, C.

Atworth, 110.

Auberkin (v. Aubrey), 29.

- Walter Auberkin, A.

Aubrey, 28.

- Albericus Balister, C.

- Albricus le Child, T.

- Aubrey Bunt, A.

Audrey (v. Awdrey), 302.

Aumeric (v. Almaric), 17, 26.

- Robert fil. Aumeric, C.

Aumoner (v. Almoner), 106.

- Michael le Aumoner, B.

- Walter le Aumoner, M.

- Adam le Aumener, G.

Aunay, 154.

Aunger (v. Anger), 158.

- Charles de Angers, H.

- John de Aungiers, M.

- Robert Aungier, X X. 1.

Aunsermaker, 403.

- Thomas le Aunseremaker, X.

Aurifaber.

- Adam le Aurifaber, M.

- Andrew Aurifaber, R.

Austen, Austin.

- Awsteyne Mayne, Z.

- Astin de Bennington, A.

- Wilekin fil. Austin, C.

Avelina, Aveline, 19, 87, n.

- Avelina Batayl, F F.

- Wydo Aveline, A.

- Avelina le Gros, J.

Avener, 219.

- Walter le Avenur, A.

- William le Avenare, G.

- Ralph le Avener, M.

Aventure, 507.

- William Aventur, A.

- Andrew Aventur, A.

Avery (v. Every), 27.

- Avery le Batur, A.

- Avere de Dayce, A.

Avice, 19.

- Avice le Aubergere, H.

- Avicia de Breaute, E.

- Hawisia le Gros, J.

Avis, Avison, (v. Avice), 19.

- Avis Tailor, V 2.

- Richard fil. Avice, A.

- William Avison, Z Z.

Await (v. Wait), 184.

- Thomas le Await, M M.

Awdrey, Awdry, 302.

- Etheldreda Plote, A.

- Audrey Bendish, F F.

- Awdrie Butts, Z.

Aylmar, 29.

- Aylmar Child, A.

- Elyas fil. Ailmar, C.

- Pleysaunt Aylmair, H.

Aylward, 21.

- Simon fil. Aylwardi, R.

- Alan Alward, A.

- Ranulph Aluard, M.

Aylwin, 21.

- Richard Alwine, A.

- Thomas Ailwyne, M.

Aymon, 35.

Babbe (v. Barbara), 75, n.

- Bertol Babbe, A.

Bacchus, 131.

- Edmund atte Bakhus, M.

- Henry del Bakehouse, M.

- Thomas Bacchus, Z Z.

Bacheldor (v. Bachelor), 166.

Bachelor, Backler 199

- Jordan le Bacheler, L.

- Gilbert le Bacholer, E.

Backhouse (v. Bacchus).

- Robert Backhouse, V 5.

Backster, 364.

- Giliana le Bacstere, A.

- Geoffrey le Bakestere, M.

Bacon, 491.

- John le Bacun, T.

- Roger Bacon, R.

Badcock (v. Batcock), 92.

- Roger Badecok, M.

- Richard Badcok, H.

Badger, 295.

- Nicholas Badger, Z Z.

- Thomas Badgger, Z Z.

Badkins (v. Batkins), 92.

Badman, 194.

- Simon Bademan, A.

Badneighbour, 501.

- William Badneighbour, P P.

Bagger (v. Badger), 295.

- Thomas le Baggere, A.

- John Bagger, X X 1.

Bagot (v. Bigot) 160.

- Margery la Bagode, K.

- Harvey Bagod, E.

Bagshaw, 117.

- Nicholas Bagshawe, Z.

- Humphrey Bagshawe, Z Z.

Bagshot, 116, John Bagshot, H H.

Bagster (v. Baxter), 364

Bailey, Bailif, Baillie, Baillif, 232.

- Seman le Baylif, J.

- Henry le Baillie, M.

- John le Baillif, B.

Baird, 310.

Baker, 363.

- Robert le Baker, B.

- Walter le Bakare, M.

Balancer, Balauncer, 403.

- Rauf le Balancer, M.

- John Balauncer, G.

- Radulf le Balauncer, N.

Balcock, 52.

Bald, 452.

- Custance Balde, A.

- Richard Bald, A.

Balderson, 52.

- Ric. fil. Baldewin, A.

- John fil. Baldewini, R.

- Allaine Bawdyson, V 3.

Baldwin, 18, 52.

- Baudewin de Bitton, A.

- Baldwin Boton, C.

- Bawden Maynard (English Gilds, 320).

Ball (v. Bald), 452.

- Roesia Balle, A.

Ballinger (v. Bullinger), 364.

Balmer, 263.

- Christiana de (le?) Balmere, P P.

Balster, 225.

- Thomas Balistarius, Q.

Bancroft, 132.

Banker, 414.

- John le Bancker, M.

Banknott, 513.

- Robert Banknott. B.

Bannerman, 200.

Barbar (v. Barber), 384, 205.

- Richard le Barbar, A.

Barbara, 75, n.

- Barbara Bickerdyke, W 16.

- Barbara Claxtone, W 19.

Barbelot, 75, n.

- Nicholas Barbelot, A.

Barbot 75, n.

- John Barbot, A.

Barberess, 384.

- Matilda la Barbaresse, A.

- Isabel le Barbaresse, A.

Barber, 205, 384.

- Bela le Barber, A.

- Luke le Barber, M.

Barbitonsor, 384.

- Thomas le Barbitonsor, J.

- William le Barbitonsor. H.

Barbour, 205, 384.

- Richard le Barbour, M.

- Robert le Barbour, M.

Bardsley.

- William de Bardesley, H.

- Robert de Bardesle, A.

Barefoot, 440.

- Norman Barefoot, A.

- Roger Barefoot, Z.

Barge, 409.

- Gerard de la Barge, C.

Barker, 331.

- William le Barcur, A.

- Osbert le Barker, M.

- Robert Barcarius, A.

Barkmaker, 290.

- Edmund Barkmaker, Z Z.

Barkman (v. Barker).

- John Barkman, W 18.

Barleybread, 367.

- Toser Barlibred, M.

Barleycorn, 367.

- Richard Barlecorn, A.

Barnabas, Barnaby 96, 97.

- Barnabe le Teyl, A.

- Burnaybe Brooke, Z.

- Barnaby Benison, Z.

Barnacle, 497.

Barne, 202.

- William le Barne, A.

- Thomas le Barne, T.

Barnes, 135.

- Warin de la Barne, A.

Baron, 175.

- Robert le Baron, A.

- Walter le Baron, M.

Barrell, 144, 395.

- John Baryl, A.

- Ralph Barel, A.

- Gilbert Barrell, V 5.

Barreller, 395.

- Stephen le Bariller, E.

Barter.

- Hugh le Bartur, A.

Bartholomew, 91.

- John Bartylmewe, Z Z.

- Lawrence fil. Bartholemew, A.

Bartle, 92.

- John fil. Bertol, A.

- Bartel Frobisher, W 9.

- Bartly Bradforth, W 9.

Bartlett, 92.

- Bartelot Govi, A.

- Thomas Bartholot, A.

- Edward Barthlette, F F.

- Thomas Berthelett, V 3.

Baskerville, 151.

- Sibilla de Baskerville, M.

- Isolda Baskerville, E.

Baskett, 144.

Bass, 432.

- Alice la Basse, A.

- Robert le Bas, B B.

Bastard, 378.

- Peter le Bastard, B.

- Robert le Bastard, E.

- Nicholas le Bastard, A.

Batcock, 92.

- Robert Batecoc, A.

- John Batekoc, M.

Bateman, 22.

- Bateman Gille, A.

- Bateman Taye, A.

- Bateman de Capele, A.

Batemanson, 22.

- Thomas Batemanson, F.

- Geoffrey Batmanson, W 3.

- Richard Batmonson, W 12.

Bater, 327.

- Avery le Batour, A.

- Adam le Batur, A.

- William le Batur, B.

Bates, 92.

- Bate Bugge, A.

- Bate le Tackman, A.

- Bate fil. Robert, A.

Batkins, 92.

- Batekyn le Clerk, A.

- Batekin Lahan, A.

Batson, 92.

- John Bateson, F.

- Gilbert Batessone, M.

Batt, 439.

- Geoffrey le Batt, B.

- Walter le Bat, G.

Battenson (v. Betonson), 68.

- John Battenson, Z.

Batty, 92.

- William fil. Battay, W 5.

- Ralph Baty. K.

Baucock, 475.

Baud, 477.

- William le Baud, B.

- Wauter le Baud, M.

Bawcock, 475.

Baxter, 364.

- Elias le Baxtere, M.

- Barth le Bakesture, B.

- Andrew le Bakester, G.

Bay, 445.

- Walter le Bay, A.

- Robert le Bey, B.

Bayard, 445.

- Thebald le Bayard, A.

- Thomas Bayard, A.

Bayley (v. Bailey), 197.

Beaddall, Beadell, Beadle, (v. Bedell), 181.

Beaman (v. Beeman), 262.

Beanover (v. Over).

- Richard Beanover, B.

Bear, 488.

- Richard le Bere, A.

- Lawrence le Bere, M.

Bearbait, 306.

- Thomas Barebat, A.

- Alex. Barebat, A.

Bearbaste, 306.

- Geoffrey Barebast, A.

- John Barbast, A.

Beard, 449.

- Peter Wi-the-Berd, D.

- Hugo cum-Barba, A.

Bearman, 306.

- Ralph Bareman, A.

Bearward, 306.

- Michael le Bereward, A.

Beater, 326.

- John le Betere, A.

Beaton (v. Beton), 68.

Beatrice, Beatrix, 19, 67,

- Beatrix Cokayn, B.

- Beatrice de Knol, J.

Beatson, 68.

- Walter fil. Betricie, A.

- Richard fil. Beatrice, R.

Beau.

- Richard le Beau, M.

Beauchamp, 151.

- William de Beauchamp, K.

- Isolda de Bello-Campo, E.

Beauclerke, 505.

- Charles Beauclerke, P P.

Beaufils, 430.

- Henry Beaufitz, M.

- Hugh Beaufiz, A.

- John Beaufitz, X X 1.

Beauflour, 503.

- Thomas Beauflour, M.

- Jacobus Beauflour, G.

Beaufrere, 430.

- Roger Beaufrere, M.

- Walter Beaufrere, M.

Beaumont, 151.

- Alice de Beaumont, M.

- Robert de Beaumond, M.

Beaupere, 430.

Beauvileyn, 507.

- William Beauvilayn, R.

- William Belvilein, E.

Beauvoir, 489.

- Roger de Belvoir, M.

Beaver, 489.

- John le Bever, G.

- Ino le Bevere, N.

Beck, 113.

- William en le Bec, A.

- William atte Beck, M.

Becker, 113.

Beckett

- (1), 111.

- John de Beckote, A.

- Wydo del Beck’t, R.

- (2),

- Becket fil. Emeric, E.

Beckman, 113.

Bedell, 151.

- Reginald le Bedel, B.

- Roger le Bedel, M.

Bedson (v. Betson), 92.

Bedweaver, 358.

- Geoffrey Bedwevere, S.

Bee (v. Wasp),

- Nicholas le Be, J.

- Cuthbert Bee, W 9.

Beech, 128.

- Eufemia de la Beche, B.

- Robert de la Beche, K.

Beecher, 113.

- John Becher, A.

- Henry le Beechur, A.

Beechman, 113.

Beef, 490.

- Robert le Bef, A.

- Richard le Bœf, A.

- John le Beuf, M.

- Mary Beefe, Q Q.

Beeman, 262.

Beerbrewer, 379.

- Lawrence Berbrewer, F F.

- Lambert Beerbruer, W 11.

Beere, 138.

- Thomas de la Beere, B.

Behind-the-brook, 108.

- Reginald Behundebroke, A.

Behind-the-water, 108.

- Thomas Behundewattre, A.

Belham, 443.

- William Belhom, A.

- William Belhomme, M.

Bell

- (1), 443.

- Peter le Bel, A.

- Walter le Bel, G.

- Robert le Bel, B.

- (2), 80.

- Richard fil. Bell, A.

- Bele le Felawe, A.

- Beyll Horsle, W 9.

- (3), 142.

- John atte Belle, V.

- Richard atte Bell, M.

- John atte Belle, X.

Bellejambe, 438.

- Peter Belljambe, A.

- Richard Beljaumbe, M.

- Alex. Belejambe, A.

Bellet, 80.

- Robert Belet, A.

- Belet le Pestour, H.

Bellewether, 472.

- John Bellewether, M.

- Stephen de (le?) Belwether, M M.

Bellhouse, 131.

- Thomas de la Belhous, A.

- Walter atte Belhous, M.

Bellman, 183, 296.

- John Belman, Z Z.

- Christopher Bellman, Z Z.

Bellot (v. Bellet), 80.

- Adam Belot, A.

Bellows (v. Bellhouse), 131.

- John Belhows, W 2.

- Isabel Bellows, W 2.

Bellringer, 183, n.

- Sarah Bellringer, 183 n.

Bellson, 80.

- John Bellesone, M.

- Ann Bellson, W 9.

Belteste, 435.

- John Beleteste, A.

Belzeter, 402.

- Robert le Belzetere, B.

- William le Belzetere, B.

Beman (v. Beeman), 262.

Benbow, 462.

- Roger Benbow, F.

- William Bendebow, X.

Bencher, 414.

- Roger le Bencher, A.

Bendbow (v. Benbow), 462.

Beneath-the-town, 108.

- Alyva Benetheton, A.

- Roger Benethenton, A.

Benedict (v. Bennet).

Benison (v. Bennet).

- Barnaby Benyson, Z.

- Simon Benesson, F.

Benn (v. Bennet).

- Eborard Benne, A.

- Benne fil. Ive, M.

- Antony Ben, V 7.

Bennet, 189.

- Reginald fil. Beneyt, A.

- Benet Lorkyn, N.

Bennetson (v. Bennet).

- Roger Bennetson, F.

- William Bennetson, H.

- William Benetson, W 17.

Benson (v. Bennet).

- Alison Benson, W 17.

- Ann Bensone, W 9.

Bercher, 271.

- Thomas le Bercher, R.

- Dorken le Bercher, A.

Berecroft, 132.

- William Barecrofte, Z Z.

Berger (v. Bercher), 271.

Berkley, 119, 129.

- Robert de Berchelay, E.

- Maurice de Berkelay, A.

Berman, 306.

- Alan Berman, M.

- William Berman, A.

Bernard.

- William fil. Bernard, A.

- Bernard Coronator, A.

Berner, 236.

- Reginald le Birner, A.

- Richard le Berner, R.

Berners, 236.

- John de Berners, E.

- Matilda de Berners, E.

Berriman, 138.

- John Buryman, F.

- Jane Berryman, Z.

Berry, 138.

- Alex. de Bery, B.

- Nicholas de la Bere, B.

Bertie.

- Alexander fil. Berte, A.

Berward (v. Bearward).

Bessie, 52, n.

Best, 463, 487.

- Richard le Beste, A.

- Henry le Beste, X.

- Edith Beest, Z.

Be-steadfast, 103.

- Be-steadfast Elyarde.

Bethell, 13.

- Evan ap Ithell, Z.

- Jevan ap Ithell, Z.

Beton, 68.

- Betin de Friscobald, O.

- John Betyn, H H.

Betonson, 16, 68.

- Robert Betonson, W 11.

- John Bettenson, P P.

- Thomas Betanson, H H.

Betson, 68, 92.

- William Beteson, W 2.

- Thomas Betisson, F F.

Betsy, 52, n.

Betton (v. Beton), 68.

- James Betton, H H.

Betts, 92.

- Margery Bettes, W 2.

- Thomas Betts, Z.

Betty, 92.

Bevan, 45.

- Eygnenn ap Yevan, D.

- Howel ap Evan, M.

Bidder, 314, n.

- Ernald le Bider, J.

Biddle (v. Bedell), 181.

- John Biddle, V 5.

Bidman, 194.

Bigg, 431.

- Agatha Bigge, A.

- Elias Bigge, A.

Bigod, Bigot, 159, 510.

- Roger le Bygod, A.

- Alina le Bigod, J.

- William le Bygot, A.

- John le Bygot, M.

Bill, 44, 459.

Billingster, 380, n.

- Henry Billingster, E E.

Billiter (v. Belzetere), 402.

- Margaret Billyetter, F F.

- Edmund Belletere, F F.

Billman, 222.

- Richardus Billman, W 19.

- Stephen Bylman, F F.

Bills, 44.

Billsmith, 281.

Bilson, 44.

- Henry Bilson, Z.

- Edmund Bilsone, F F.

- Thomas Bilson, V 7.

Birch, 129.

- Hugh de la Byrche, A.

- John atte Birche, M.

Bird, 493.

- John le Bird, A.

- David le Bird, A.

- Ralph le Brydde, V 12.

Birkenshaw, 129, 117.

- William Burchingshawe, Z.

- Robert Beckinshaw, Z.

Birks (v. Birch), 129.

- Bartholomew Birks, F F.

Birmingham, 147.

- John de Burmyngham, M.

- William de Bermingham, A.

Bishop, 186.

- John le Bissup, A.

- Robert le Biscop, C.

Bithewater (v. Bywater).

Black, 444.

- Ederick le Blacke, A.

- Stephen le Blak, G.

Blackamoor, 161.

- Simon Blakamour, R R 1.

- Beatrix Blakamour, X.

- Richard Blackamore, F F.

Blackbeard, 449.

- Richard Blacberd, A.

- Thomas Blackberd, W 18.

- Peter Blackbeard, W 20.

Blackbird, 494.

- Priscilla Blackbird, 494, n.

Blackdam, 500.

- Joan Blackdam, F F.

Blacker, 328.

- Roger le Blackere, M.

- Geoff. le Blakere, M.

Blackester, 328.

- William le Bleckestere, A.

- Richard le Bleckstere, M.

- Robert Blaxter, Z.

Blackeye, 434.

- Roger Niger-oculus, L.

Blackhat.

- Henry Blakhat, R R 1.

Blackhead, 435.

- William Blackhead, 435, n.

- John Blackhead, F F.

Blackinthemouth, 424.

- William Blackinthemouth, X.

Blackleach (v. Leach).

- John Blakeleach, A A 3.

- Thomas Blakelache, A A 3.

Blacklock, 447.

- Peter Blacklocke, A.

- Dame Blaikelocke, W 9.

Blackman, 446.

- Elias le Blakeman, B.

- Henry Blacman, A.

Blackmantle, 457.

- Agnes Blackmantyll, W 11.

Blacksmith, 281.

- Nicholas the Blacksmith, F F.

- John Blacksmythe, Z Z.

Bladesmith, 282.

- John Bladesmyth, S S.

- John Bladsmith, F F.

- Thomas Bladesmith, S.

- John Bladesmithe, W 13.

Blake, 445.

- Seman le Blake, A.

- Warin le Blake, R.

Blakeman (v. Blackman), 446.

- Thomas Blakman, W 17.

Blamester.

- Robert le Blaimester, A.

Blanche

- (1), 19, 446.

- Warin Blanche, A.

- (2),

- Blanche Chalons, B.

Blanchet, 446, 454.

Blanchflower, 442.

- Faith Blanchflower, Z.

Blanchfront, 446, 437.

- Philip Blanchfront, F F.

- Joan Blaunkfront, X X 4.

- Amabil Blancfront, G G.

Blanchmains, 437.

- Robert Blanchmains, F F.

- Humbert Blanchmains, P P.

Blanchpain, 367, 508.

- Roger Blancpain, A.

- Edmund Blankpayn, D.

Blank, 446.

- Riolle le Blanc, C.

- John le Blank, M.

Blanket, 446, 454.

- Robert Blanket, B.

- John Blanket, X.

Blaxter (v. Blackester), 328.

Blind, 434.

- Ralph le Blinde, A.

- Wille Blynd, J.

Bliss, 452.

- John Blisse, A.

Blisswench, 472.

- Alicia Blissewenche, A.

Blocker, 264.

- Deodatus le Blokkere, A.

- Richard le Blockhewere, E.

Blond, 446.

- Reginald le Blond, A.

- Gilbert Blond, F F.

Blondel, 446.

- Amicia Blondelle, F F.

- Olive Blondell, F F.

Blood, 510.

- William Blood, X.

- Thomas Blood, F F.

Bloodletter, 383.

- Thomas Blodletere, A.

- William Bloodletter, X.

- John Bloodlatter, W 12.

Blount, 446.

- David le Blound, B.

- Hugh le Blount, M.

Blower, 236.

- Mabil le Blouer, A.

- Robert le Blowere, T.

Blowhorn (v. Hornblow), 236.

- Gilbert Blouhorn, A.

Blubber, 469.

- William le Blubere, A.

- Nicholas Bluber, A.

Blue, 447.

- Walter le Bleu, E.

Blund, 446.

- Herbert le Blund, A.

- Amabella le Blund, B.

Blundell, 446.

- Jordan Blundel, N.

- Petronilla Blundel, T.

Blunt, 446.

- Alicia le Blunt, B.

- Sibil le Blunt, G.

Blythe, 463, 472.

- Antony Blythe, Z.

- Richard Blythe, Z.

Blythman, 463.

- William Blythman, W 3.

- Jasper Blithman, Z.

Boar, 491.

- Richard le Bor, A.

- Robert le Bor, E.

Boarder, 252.

Boardman, 252.

- Hugh Boardman, Z Z.

- Peter Boordman, Z Z.

Boatman, 409.

- Peter Boatman, F F.

- Jacob Boatman, F F.

Boatswain, 409.

- Richard le Botsweyn, M.

- Edward Botswine, Z.

Boatwright (v. Botwright), 277.

Bodkin, 51.

- Robert Bodekin, A.

- Andrew Bawdkyn, W 9.

Body, 455.

- William Body, A.

- Robert Body, F F.

Boffill (v. Beaufils), 430, 507.

Bold

- (1), 467,

- William le Bold, M.

- Robert le Bolde, R.

- (2), 136,

- John de la Bold, A.

- Elias de la Bolde, A.

Bolderson (v. Balderson), 52.

Boleyn, Bollen, 168.

- Simon de Boleyn, F F.

- Richard de Boloygne, A.

- John de Boloyne, A.

Bollinger, 364.

- Richard le Bollinger, E.

Boloneis, 168.

- Stacius le Boloneis, A.

Bolter, 275.

- John le Boltere, A.

- Geoffrey le Boltere, A.

Bon, 467.

- John le Bon, O.

- Duran le Bon, M.

Bonamy, 474.

- William Bienayme, A.

- William Bonamy, A.

Bonaventure, 507.

- John Bonaventure, H.

- Giot Bonaventure, J.

Bonchivaler, 507.

- John Bonchivaler, B.

- William Bonchevaler, K.

Bonclerk, 505.

- Emma Bonclerk, H.

- John Boneclerk, H.

Boncount, 507.

- Guido Boncunte, O.

Boncristien, 507.

- Andrew Boncristien, O.

Boncompagnon, 506.

Bond, 254.

- Ivo le Bonde, A.

- Robert le Bond, B.

- Richard le Bonde, M.

Bondame, 507.

- Alan Bondame, P P.

Bondman, 254.

- William Bondman, X X 1.

Bone (v. Bon), 467.

- Thom. le Bone, A.

- Richard le Bone, H.

Bonecors, 506.

- Manellus Bonecors, E.

Bonenfant, 507.

- Nicholas Bonenfaunt, M.

- John Bonefaunt, A.

- Walter Bonenfaunt, A.

Bones, 455.

Bonfils, 507.

Bonham, Bonhomne, 507.

- William Bonhome, A.

- Agnes Bonhomme, A.

Bonjohn, 46, 504.

- Durand le Bonjohan, A.

- John Bon-John, X.

Bonner, 467.

- William le Bonere, A.

- Alice le Bonere, A.

Bonnivant, 507.

- John Bonnyvaunt, Z.

- John Bonyfant, Z.

Bonqueynt, 507.

- Andrew le Bonqueynt, J.

Bonserjeant, 506.

- John Bonserjeant, A.

- Richard Bonsergaunt, G.

Bonsquier, 507.

- Wiliam Bonsquier, A.

- Walter le Bonesquier, M M.

Bontemps, 467.

- Thomas Bontemps, F F.

Bonvalet, 507.

- John Bonvalet, J.

- Richard Bonvallet, A.

Bonyfant (v. Bonenfant), 507.

- Henry Bonyfant, A.

Bookbinder, 405.

- John Bokbyndere, X.

- Dionisia le Bokebyndere, X.

- Robert Bukebynder, W 9.

Boon (v. Bon), 467.

- Alice le Bonne, A.

- William Boon, B.

Boor, Robert le Boor, B.

- Robert le Boor, G.

Booth, 135.

- Nicholas de la Bothe, A.

- Odo de la Booth, F F.

Boothman, 135.

- Roger Bothman, A.

- Henry Bootheman, Z Z.

Borden, 118.

- John de Borden, C.

- Mathew de Borden, E.

Border (v. Boarder), 252.

Bordman (v. Boardman), 252.

- Ralph Bordman, Z Z.

- James Bordman, F F.

Borehunt, 238.

- Henry Borehunte, D.

Borroughs, 138.

Borrows, 138.

Bosher, 264.

Boswell.

- Henry de Bosevil, A.

- John de Boseville, A.

Botcher (v. Butcher), 374.

- Elias le Bocher, M.

- John le Bocher, M.

Boteler (v. Butler), 211.

- Ralph le Boteler, B.

- Walter le Boteler, M.

Botiler (v. Butler), 117.

- Teobald le Botiler, A.

- Richer le Botiller, A.

Botwright, 277.

- John Botewright, F F.

- Bartholomew Botwright, Z.

Boulter (v. Bolter), 275.

Bourdon (v. Burdon) 461.

Boutflower (v. Beauflour), 442.

- Margaret Butflower, F F.

- William Beauflour, B.

Boville, 151.

- Warin de Boville, A.

- William de Bovile, A.

Bowcher, 374.

- John Bowcher, Z Z.

- William Bowcher, Z Z.

Bowen, 12.

- Griffin ap Oweyn, R.

- Jane Abowen, Z.

- James Aphowen, X X 2.

Bower,

- (1), 226,

- John le Bower, A.

- (2), 135

- Richard atte Bowre, M.

Bowerman, 135.

- William Bourman, F.

Bowler, 388.

- John le Bolur, A.

- Robert le Boller, M.

- Adam le Bolour, M.

Bowmaker, 226.

- George Bowmaker, S S.

- Robert Boumaker, W 1.

- John Bowmaykere, W 3.

Bowman, 225.

- Robert Bowman, Z.

- John Bowman, Z Z.

Bowshank, 438.

- Gerald Bushanke, A.

Bowsher, 374.

- Katerin Bowghshere, F.

- George Beawsher, F.

Bowyer, 226.

- William le Boghyere, A.

- Adam le Boghiere, M.

- William le Bowyer, H.

Boyce (v. Boys) 154.

Boyer (v. Bowyer) 226.

- Geoffry le Boyer T.

- Adam le Boiere, E.

Boys, 154.

- Ralph del Boyes, A.

- Henry du Boys, M.

Braban, 164.

- Saher de Braban, E.

- Arnald de Braban, M.

Brabaner (v. Braban), 164.

- Isabel Brabaner, Z Z.

- Robert Brabaner, Z Z.

Brabant (v. Braban), 164.

- Margaret Brabant, Z.

- John Brabant, Z Z.

Brabazon, 164.

- Roger le Brabanzon, M.

- Reginald le Brebanzon, H.

- Roger le Brabanson, H.

Bracegirdle, 349.

- Justinian Bracegirdle, Z.

Bracegirdler (v. Bregirdler), 349.

Bracer, 379.

- Robert le Bracer, A.

- William le Bracur, T.

- Reginald Bracciator, A.

Braceress, 379.

- Clarice le Braceresse, A.

- Letitia Braciatrix, A.

- Emma le Braceresse, T.

Bradshaw, 117.

- Mabel de Bradschaghe, A A 2.

Brailer, 349.

- Roger le Braeler, A.

- Stephen le Brayeler, X.

Braithwaite, 121.

- Roger de Bratwayt, A.

- Richard Braythwait, X X 1.

Branson (v. Brainson).

- John fil. Briani, A.

- Edward Bransonne, Z.

Brasher (v. Brazier), 392.

Brass, 436.

- Simon Braz, A.

- John Brass, M.

Brazdifer, 436.

- Walter Brasdefer, E.

- Simon Brazdefer, E.

- Michael Brasdefer, B B.

Brazier, 392.

- Robert le Brazur, G.

- William le Brasour, N.

Breadmongster, 364.

- Sara la Bredemongestere, X.

Breadwright, 278.

Breakspeare, 462.

- Adrian Brakspere, H H.

- Alexander Brekspere, M M.

Bregirdler, 349.

- John le Bregerdelere, X.

Brelson (v. Burletson).

- Henry Brelson, Z.

Bret, Brett, 158.

- Hamo le Brett, A.

- Milo le Bret, M.

Bretter (v. Breviter), 217.

- William Bretter, Z Z.

Breviter, 217.

- Peter le Brevetour, M.

- Ely le Breveter, O.

- Richard Brevyter, Z.

Brewer, 379.

- Walter le Browere, B.

- William le Brewere, J.

Brewery, 379, 382.

- John de la Bruere, A.

- Walter de la Bruario, M.

Brewster, 379.

- Emma le Breustere, A.

Brianson

- (1), Giles de Brianzon, M.

- William de Brianzon, DD.

- (2), Thomas fil. Brian, A.

- William fil. Brian, A.

Bricot (v. Brice), 30.

- Bricot de Brainton, M M.

Brice, 30.

- Brice fil. William, A.

- Brice de Bradelegh, A.

- Bricius le Daneys, R.

- Brice Persona, A.

Bridge-end, 114.

- John ate Bruge-ende, A.

- Stephen atte Brigende, B.

- William atte Brigende, M.

Bridgeman (v. Bridgman), 113.

- John Bridgeman, V 7.

Bridger, 113, 285.

- John Bridger, Z.

Bridgman, 113, 285.

- Jasper Bridgeman, Z.

- Giles Bridgman, F F.

Briggs (i.e., Bridge).

- Roger del Brigge, M.

- Sarra atte Brigge, B.

Briton, 158.

- Wygan le Bretun, A.

- Robert le Breton, B.

- Ivo le Breton, E.

Britt, 158.

- Thomas le Brit, B.

- Wydo le Brit, A.

- Nicholas Britte, X X 1.

Brittain (v. Briton), 158.

Britten (v. Briton), 158.

Britton (v. Briton), 158.

Broad, 381.

- John le Brode, B.

- Richard le Brod, M.

Broadbelt, 431.

- Joan Broydbelt, W 11.

- Robert Brodebelte, W 17.

Broadcombe, 125.

- Robert de Brudecombe, M.

Broadgirdle, 431.

- William Brodgirdel, A.

Broadhay, 133.

- Robert de Broadheye, A.

Broadhead, 435.

- Walter Brodheved, A.

- Edmund Broadheade, Z Z.

Broadpenny, 482.

- William Brodepeny, M.

Brock

- (1), 489.

- Walter le Broc, T.

- Henry le Brok, A.

- (2), (v. Brook), 108.

- Edeline de Broc, E.

- Elias del Broc, T.

Brocklehurst, 116.

Brockman, 238.

- John Brockeman, H.

- Robert le Borckman, A.

Brogden, 118.

- Alice Brockden, Z Z.

- James Brocden, F F.

Brogger, 414.

Broiderer, 347.

- John Brauderer, O.

Broker, 414.

- Robert the Brochere, B.

- Thomas le Brokur, M.

- Simon le Brokour, G.

Brook, Brooke, 108.

- Alice de la Broke, A.

- Ada ate Brok, B.

- Laurence del Broc, A.

Brooker, 113.

Brookman, 113.

- John Brokeman, C.

Brother, 430.

- William le Brother, A.

- Wymond Brother, M.

Brotherhood, 191.

- Nicholas Brotherhood, P P.

- John Brotherhood, W 20.

Brotherson, 430.

Brough, 138.

Brown, 445.

- Wymarc Brown, A.

- Simon le Brown, M.

- John le Broune, G.

Brownbeard, 449.

- John Brownberd, X X 4.

- Janet Brownebeard, W 11.

Brownbill, 459.

Brownjohn, 46, 503.

Brownking, 505.

- Simon Brun-king, E.

Brownknave, 505.

- Richard Brownknave, Z.

Brownman, 445.

- Richard Broneman, A.

Brownsmith, 281.

- Thomas Brownesmythe, Z Z.

- Hester Brownsmith, F F.

Brownson.

- Roger fil Broun, A.

- Reginald fil. Brun, M M.

Brownswain, 505.

- John Brounsweyn, P.

Brownsword, 462.

- Richard Brownsworde, A A 3.

- Thomas Brownesworde, Z Z.

- Cicely Brownsword, A A 4.

Bruges.

- Saher de Bruges, E.

- Oliva de Bruges, E.

Brun, 445.

- Hugh le Brun, B.

- Nigel le Brun, C.

Brune, 445.

- Alicia le Brune, B.

- Robert le Brune, M.

Brunell, 445.

- Brunellus Carpenter, E.

Brunman, 445.

- Henry Brunman, A.

- Robert Brunman, O.

Brunne, 445.

- William le Brunne, G.

Bruselance, 462.

- Robert Bruselance, A.

Bryson (v. Brice), 30.

- Henry fil. Brice, V 8.

- Barnabe Brisson, V 4.

Buck, 488.

- Walter le Buk, C.

- Roger le Buck, M.

Buckden, 118.

- Sarra de Bokeden, A.

- Richard Buckden, Q.

Buckleboots, 501.

- John Bukelboots, A A 1.

Buckler, 282, 459.

- John le Bockeler, A.

- Richard Bokeler, Z.

Bucklermaker, 224.

- Mathew Bucklermaker (Ludlow. Cam. Soc.).

Buckley, 119.

- Michael de Bokele, A.

- William de Bucley, S S.

Buckman, 235.

- Alan Bokeman, A.

Buckmaster, 235.

- William Buckmaster, F.

- Thomas Buckmaster, Z.

- Elias Buckmaster, V 5.

Buckrell, 489.

- Peter Bokerel, A.

- Mathew Bokerel, A.

Buckskin, 500.

- Peter Buckeskyn, B.

- Nicholas Buxskyn, M.

Bucksmith, 282.

- John le Bokelsmyth, X.

Buckthorp, 137.

- Hamalin de Bugtorp, A.

- Thomas Bugthorppe, W 11.

Buddicom, 125.

Buffler (v. Boutflower), 442.

- James Beauflur, X.

Bugden (v. Buckden), 118.

- William de Bugenden, A.

Bugge, 138, 498.

- Bate Bugge, A.

- Baldewin Bug, B.

Bulfinch, 494.

- Edward Bolfynch, X.

Bull, 489.

- Alice le Bule, A.

- William le Bule, B.

Bullard, 306.

Bullen (v. Boleyn), 168.

- William Bullen, F F.

- Robert Buleyn, Z.

Bullhead, 500.

- Richard Boleheved, A.

- John Boleheved, M.

Bullinger, 364.

- Richard le Bulenger, E.

Bullivant (v. Bonenfant), 507.

- Robert Ballyfaunt, Z.

Bullock, 490.

- Godwin Bulloc, A.

- Edmund Bullok, B.

Bulman, 271.

- William Bulman, D.

- Walter Bulleman, F F.

Bulness, 168.

- Stacius le Boloneis, A.

Bulter (v. Bolter), 275.

Bunker, 467.

- John le Boncer, B.

- William Bonquer, O.

Bunn (v. Bonn), 467.

- Rocelin le Bun, A.

Bunyan (v. Bonjohn), 504.

Bunyon (v. Bonjohn), 504.

Burder, 239.

- Thomas Burder, F.

Burdett-Coutts, 509.

Burdon, 461.

- Richard Burdun, E.

- Maria Burdun, R.

Burelman, 454.

- John Burelman, X.

Burend, 114.

- John atte Bur-ende, R.

Burgess, 184.

- John le Burges, A.

- Richard le Burgeis, E.

Burgh, 138.

- Walter atte Bergh, B.

- William atte Burgh, R.

Burghman, 138.

- William Burgman, B.

Burgon, Burgoyne, 158.

- John Burgoyne, A.

- Thomas Burgoyn, B.

Burguillun, 481.

- Geoff. le Burgillon, T.

- Robert le Burgulion, M.

Burke, 138.

- Hubert de Burk, A.

- John de Burk, A.

Burle, 442.

- Henry le Burle, A.

Burletson (v. Bartlett) 92, n.

- William Byrtletson, W 17.

- William Burletson, S S.

- Bryan Burletson, S S.

Burman (v. Burghman).

- Isabel Bureman, A.

- John Burman, B.

Burnell, 445.

- Pagan Burnel, J.

- Burnellus Carpenter, E.

Burnett, 454.

- Thomas Burnet, Z.

Burrell, 340.

- Roger Burell, J.

- Robert Burell, R.

Burroughs, 138.

- Robert de la Berwe, B.

- Henry Burroughe, Z.

Burser (v. Purser), 398, 348.

- Adam le Burser, E.

- Alard le Burser, H.

Burtheyn, 175, n.

- William Burtheyn, G.

Bury, 138.

- Geoffrey de la Bure, A.

- John atte-Bury, M.

Bush (v. Busk), 154.

Busheler, 395, n.

- John Busheler, F.

Busher, 264.

- Reginald le Buscher, J.

- John le Busscher, M.

Busk, 154.

- Hamo de Bosco, A.

- John ad Bosc, A.

Buss, 154.

- Alicia Busse, A.

Bustard.

- Richard Bustard, W 2.

Bustler, 465.

- Thomas le Busteler, F F.

- Robert le Bustler, T.

But, 378.

- Roger le But, E.

- John le But, J.

Butcher, 374.

- Michael le Bucher, T.

Butler, 211, 397.

- Robert le Butiler, A.

- William le Butiller, B.

- Hugh le Butellier, E.

- John le Butteller, M.

Butmonger, 378.

- Hugh Butmonger, A.

Butrekyde, 294.

- Robert Butrekyde, A.

Butt, 228.

Butter, 378.

- William le Butor, P.

Butterman, 327.

- William Buttyrman, P.

- George Butman, Z.

- Lancelot Butiman, W 18.

Buttoner, 343.

- Henry le Botoner, A.

- Richard le Botyner, H.

- Lawrence le Botaner, N.

Buzzard, 493.

- Eustace Busard, A.

- Peter Buzard, A.

Byatt (v. Bygate), 129, 113.

Byford, 113.

- Abalotta de la Forde, A.

- Stephen de la Forde, A.

Bygate, 113, 129.

- Philip de la Gate, A.

- Walter de la Gate, A.

Bythesea, 113.

- Roger Bythesea, Z.

- Pagan de la Mare, A.

Bytheway, 113.

- Richard Bytheway, Z.

Bythewood, 113.

- Edward Bythewode, A.

- William Bythewood, M.

Bywater, 112.

- Elyas Bithewater, A.

- Robert Bithewater, M.

Bywood (v. Bythewood), 112.

Cachemaille, 483.

Cacherell, 152.

- Grig le Cacherel, A.

- Adam le Cacherel, M.

Cade, 144.

- Margery Cade, A.

- Walter Cade, A.

Cadman, 395.

- Walter Kademan, A.

- Robert Cademan, J.

Cæsar (v. Kaiser), 174.

- Susan Cæsar, Z.

Caffin, 452.

- Richard Chauffin, A.

Caird, 296.

Caitiff.

- Richard Caytyf, DD.

Caleb, 100.

- Caleb Morley, T T.

Calf, 490.

- Nicholas Calfe, A.

- Richard Calf, M.

Calisher, 393.

- Elena Calicer, B.

Callender, 495.

Caller, 336.

- Elias le Callere, M.

- Robert le Callere, N.

- Robert le Callerere, N.

Callow, 451.

- Richard Calewe, M.

- Richard le Calue, F F.

Calman, 336.

Calthrop, Caltrop, 137.

- William de Calthorpe, M.

- Ralph de Kalthorp, R.

Calve (v. Calf), 444.

- Henry le Calve, M.

- Idonia le Calwe, T.

Calverd, Calvert, 266.

- Henry Calvehird, M.

- John le Calvehird, H.

- Warin le Calvehird, W 4.

Calvesmawe, 434.

- Robert Calvesmaghe, M.

Cam, 441.

- William le Cam, A.

- William le Cam, R.

Camamilla.

- Camamilla Helewys, R R 1.

Camden, 389.

- John de Campeden, A.

- Maurice de Campeden, F F.

Camel, 487.

- George Camel, W 20.

- Richard Camill, V 5.

- William Cammille, V 4.

Cameron, 441.

Camiser, 344.

- Bartholomew le Camisur, X.

Camoys, 441.

- John le Camoys, A.

Campbell, 441.

- Thomas Cambell, Z.

Campion

- (1), 304.

- Walter le Campion, A.

- John le Campion, T.

- (2), 159. (v. Champion, 2.)

Camuse (v. Camoys), 441.

Candeler (v. Candler), 386.

Candleman, 386.

- Adam Candeleman, M.

Candlemaker, 386.

- John le Candlemakere, M.

Candler, 386.

- Mathew le Candeler, A.

- John le Candeler, E.

Cane.

- Hugh de Caen, C.

- Richard de Cane, H.

Cannon, 191.

- John le Cannon, A.

- Richard Cannon, Z.

Canon, 191.

- William le Canon, A.

- Thomas le Canun, E.

Cant (v. Quaint), 471.

Canter (v. Chanter), 188.

Canute, 20.

Canvaser, 319, 359.

- Henry le Canevacer, M.

- Richard le Canvaser, M.

Caperon, 458.

- Alicia Caperun, A.

- Thomas Chaperoun, J.

Capet, 456.

Capmaker, 337.

- Thomas Capmaker, H.

Capman, 337.

- John Capman, M.

- James Kapman, Z.

Capon, 494.

- Robert le Capon, B B.

- Agnes Capun, A.

Capper, 337.

- Symon le Cappiere, A.

- Thomas le Capiere, A.

Carboner.

- Geoffrey le Carbonere, W 15.

- Alfred Carbonator, M M.

Carder, 320.

- Peter Carder, Z.

- John Carder, Z.

Cardinal, 173.

- Walter Cardinall, P.

- William Cardynall, Z.

Cardmaker, 321.

- Robert Cardemaker, H.

Careful.

- Robert Carefull, M M.

Careless, 471.

- Roger Carles, H.

- Antony Careless, Z.

Carlton, 134.

- Geoffrey de Carlton, A.

- Audeley Carleton, Z.

Carman, 238.

- Henry Carman, A.

- Matilda Carman, A.

Carnifex, 375.

- Hugh Carnifex, A.

- Henry Carnifex, M.

Carpenter, 249.

- Amice le Charpenter, T.

- Stephen le Charpenter, B.

- Robert le Carpenter, M.

Carter, 288.

- Magge le Carter, A.

- William le Caretter, E.

- Robert le Carecter, A.

- Robert le Karetter, A.

Carteress.

- Cristina le Carteres, A.

Cartman, 288.

Cartwright, 277.

- Robert le Cartwright, B.

- Thomas Cartwright, Z.

Carver, 214.

- Adam le Karver, A.

- Richard le Kerver, A.

Casier, 174, n. 278, 369.

- Michael le Casiere, M.

- Benedict le Casiere, M.

Cassell.

- John de Castell, A.

- William de Castell, A.

Castelan, Castleman, 204.

- Jocelin le Castlelyn, R.

- John le Chastilioun, R.

- Thomas le Chastelain, M.

- William Castleman, Z.

Catalonia, 170.

- Robert de Catalonia, p. 170.

Catcher, 182.

- Adam le Cacher, A.

- Richard le Catchere, A.

Catcherel, 182.

- Nicholas le Cacherel, A.

- Lucas Cacherellus, A.

Catchhare.

- Hugh Cachehare, M.

Catchman, 152.

- Edmund Catchman, Z Z.

Catchpeny, 483.

- Nicholas Kachepeny, A.

Catchpole, Catchpoll, Catchpool, 182.

- Hugh le Cachepol, M.

- Geoffrey le Cachepol, A.

- Michael Catchpoole, Z.

Cater, Caterer, Catour, 210.

- Henry le Catour, A.

- John le Catur, J.

- Nicholas le Catour, B.

Catlinson, 71.

- Richard Catlynson, 55.

- Eleonore Catlynsson, W 12.

- Thomas Katlynson, W 11.

Cats-nose, 500.

- Agnes Cattesnese, A.

Catt, 492.

- Adam le Kat, C.

- Milo le Chat, E.

- Elyas le Cat, A.

Catterman (v. Quarterman), 437.

- Richard Catermayn, H.

Cattell, Cattle, (v. Chettle), 24.

- Cattle Bagge, A.

Cattlin, 71.

- Robert Catelyne, H H.

- Richard Kateline, A.

Caury-Maury 457.

- John Caury-Maury, V 8.

Cayser, Cayzer, 174.

- Samson le Cayser, A.

- Thomas le Cayser, A.

Cecil, 19.

- Richard fil. Cecille, A.

- Thomas Cicell, Z.

Cecilia, 69.

- Cecilia in the Lane, A.

- Cecilia la Grase, T.

- Sissilie Linscale, W 16.

Ceinter, 349.

- Girard le Ceinter, C.

- Robert le Ceynter, M.

Cellarer, 211.

- Richard le Cellarer, O.

- John Cellarer, D.

Centlivre, 513.

- Grace Centlivre, Joseph Centlivre, v. p. 513.

Centurer, 349.

- Nicholas le Ceynturer, A.

- Richard le Ceynturer, A.

- Benet Seinturer, v. p. 349.

Cesselot (v. Sisselot), 69.

- Bella Cesselot, A.

- Alicia fil. Sesselot, A.

Chaffinch, 494.

- Abraham Caffinch, v. 13.

Chalk (v. Schalk), 212 n.

Chalker, 259.

- Thomas le Chalker, A.

- Gilbert le Chalker, A.

Challen, 170.

- Rodger de Chaluns, A.

- Piers de Chalouns, M.

Challender, 495.

Challenor (v. Chaloner), 357.

Challice, Challis, 393.

Challoner, Chaloner, 357.

- Jordan le Chaluner, T.

- John le Chaloner, B.

- Peter le Chaloner, M.

- Nicholas le Chalouner, A.

Chamberlain, Chamberlayne, 205.

- Walter le Chamberleyne, A.

- Simon le Chamberlain, M.

- Henry le Chaumberleyne, B.

Chambers, 205.

- Henry de la Chambre, A.

- William de la Chaumbre, B.

Champagne, 159.

- Robert de Chaumpaigne, M.

Champion

- (1), 304.

- Katerina le Champion, A.

- William le Chaumpion, A.

- (2), 159.

- Roger de Champion, B.

Champness, Champneys, 158.

- Robert le Champeneis, E.

- Roger le Chaumpeneys, A.

- Stephen le Champenays, L.

Chancellor, 188.

- Thomas le Chanceler, M.

- Geoffrey le Chaunceler, R.

Chandler, 386.

- Jordan le Chaundler, C.

- Roger le Chaundeler, B.

Changer, 413.

- Henry le Chaunger, M.

- Adam Chaunger, F F.

Chanster, 188.

- Stephen le Chanster, J.

- Williametta Cantatrix, E.

Chanter, 188.

- Christiana le Chaunter, A.

- William le Chantour, M.

Chapell.

- Henry atte Chapelle, M.

- Hugh de la Chapele, A.

Chapeller, 337.

- Robert le Chapeler, A.

- Edmund le Chapeler, M.

Chaperon, 458.

- Almeric Chaperon, O.

Chaplain, Chaplin, 188.

- Reginald le Chapelein, J.

- Hamo le Chapeleyn, T.

Chapman, 296.

- Geoffrey le Chapman, M.

- Alard le Chapman, T.

Charer, 287.

- John le Charer, O.

- Richard le Charrer, M.

- John le Charrer, A.

Charioteer, 287.

- John Charioteer, W 2.

- Thomas Charietter, Z.

Charity, 103.

- John Charite, A.

- Charitie Bowes, Z.

Charlesworth, 134.

Charlewood, 134.

- Isabelle Charlewood, Z.

- John Charlewood, Z.

Charley, 134.

- Philip de Charleye, M.

- John Charley, Z Z.

Charlton, 134.

- Thomas de Charlton, M.

- Henry de Charewelton, A.

Charman, 288.

- John Charman, F F.

- John Chareman, H H.

Charner, 272.

- Thomas le Charner, A.

Charter, 287.

- William le Charetter, G.

- Andrew le Chareter, M.

- John le Charter, M.

Charteris, Charters, 168.

- Ralph de Chartres, M.

- Alan de Chartres, M.

Chartman (v. Cartman), 287.

- John Chartman, F F.

Chaser, 230.

- Simon le Chasur, A.

Chatelain (v. Castelan), 204.

- Ralph le Chatelaine, A.

Chaucer, 354.

- Gerard le Chaucer, H.

- Mary le Chaucer, N.

- Ralph le Chaucer, E.

- Robert le Chaucer, M.

Chauntecler, 494.

- Roger Chauntecler, B.

- Agnes Chauntler, Z.

Cheek, 433.

- John Cheeke, Z.

Cheese, 144.

- Nicholas Chese, T.

- John Chese, X.

Cheese-and-bread, 501.

- Geoffrey Cheese-and-brede, W 5.

Cheese-house, 369.

- Adam del Cheshus, A.

Cheesemaker, 369.

- Robert le Chesemaker, A.

Cheeseman, 369.

- John le Cheseman, A.

- Edward Cheseman, H.

Cheesemonger, 369.

- Adam le Chismonger, H.

- Alan le Chesmongere, L.

Cheesewright, 277, 369.

- John Chesewright, Z.

Cheever, 491.

- Henry le Chivere, M.

- Jordan Chevre, C.

Cheke (v. Cheek), 433.

Chen (v. Ken), 492.

- Reginald le Chen, M.

- William le Chien, E.

Chepman, 296.

- Walter le Chepeman, M.

- John le Chepman, B.

Chesswright (v. Cheesewright), 369.

- William Cheswright, Z.

Chettle (v. Kettle), 24.

- Chetel Frieday, F F.

Chevalier, 507.

- Walter le Chevaler, A.

- Roger le Chevaler, A.

Chevestrer, 413.

- Adam le Chevestrer, A.

Chicken, 494.

- John Chikin, A.

- Philip Chikin, A.

Chietsmith, 283.

- John Chietsmyth, X.

Child, Childe, 202.

- Milisent le Child, A.

- Walter le Child, M.

- Roger le Childe, A.

Chin, 433.

- John Chyne, A.

Chippendale, 296.

Chit, 442.

- John le Chit, R.

Chitterling.

- Richard Chiterling, A.

Chitty, 442.

- Agnes Chittye, Z.

- John Chittie, Z.

Choice-Pickrell, 508.

Christian, 30, 507.

- Christian Forman, W 2.

- Brice Christian, A.

Christiana, 30.

- Joan Cristina, A.

- Cristina Alayn, A.

Christie (v. Christian), 30.

Christison, 30.

- John fil. Christian, A.

- Robert fil. Christine, M.

Christmas, Cristmas, 62.

- Simon Christemasse, A.

- Richard Cristemasse, M.

Christmas-Day, 509.

Christoferson, 57.

- Richard Christoferson, Z Z.

Christopher, 57.

- John Christophre, M.

- William Cristofer, Z.

Chubb, 497.

- John Chubbe, Z.

- Isabell Chubb, Z.

Chuffer, 482.

- Simon le Chuffere, A.

Church, 113.

- Robert atte Chyrche, A.

- Alicia atte Chirche, B.

Churchay, 134.

- William atte Churchehaye, A.

- Robert atte Churchey, W.

Churchclerk, 189.

- Walter le Churcheclerk, M.

Churcher, 113.

- Richard Churcher, Z.

- Johan Churcher, Z.

Churchdoor.

- Reginald atte Churchedoor, M.

Churchgate, 130.

- Robert atte Chirchyate, M.

Churchman, 113.

- Ouse le Churcheman, A.

- Simon le Cherchman, M.

Churchstile.

- John atte Churchestighele, M.

Churner (v. Charner), 272.

- Robert Chirner, W 9.

Cicely (v. Cicilia), 69.

- Cicely Harbord, Z.

Cirgier, 386.

- William le Cirgier, X.

Cirographer, 406.

- William le Cirographer, A.

- Isaac Cyrographer, E.

Cissor, 340.

- Walter Cyssor, A.

- Hugh Cissor, M.

Clare (v. Sinclair), 124.

Clarice, 19.

- Alan fil. Clarice, A.

- Claricia Crowe, A.

- Richard Clarisse, A.

Clark, Clarke, (v. Clerk), 412.

Claver, 185.

- Henry le Claver, E.

- Agnes le Claver, F F.

- John le Clavier, B B.

Clavenger, Clavinger, 185.

- Robert Clavynger, H.

Clay.

- Alice in le Clay, A.

- Thomas de la Cley, A.

Clayer, 259.

- Simon le Clayere, A.

Cleangrise (v. Cleanhog), 499.

- Roger Clenegrise, A.

Cleanhand.

- John Cleanhond, X.

Cleanhog, 499.

- William Clenehog, A.

Cleanwater.

- John Klenewater. Lower 1, 242.

Cleaver (v. Claver), 154.

- John Cleaver, F F.

- William Cleaver, V 6.

Clement, Clements, Clementson, Clemms, Clempson, Clemson, 98.

- Richard Clement, W 16.

- Ralph fil. Clemence, A.

- Eustace fil. Clement, A.

- Roger Clempson, Z.

- Peter fil. Clem, A.

- Joyce Clemson, Z.

Clerk, Clerke, 189, 465.

- Beatrix le Clerc, A.

- Milo le Clerk, A.

Clerkson, 65.

- Geoffrey fil. Clerici, A.

- William Clerkessone, M.

Clerkwright, 402.

- Robert Clerkwright, S.

Cleve, 124.

- Henry de la Clyve, A.

- Thomas de Cleve, F F.

Cleveland, 124.

Clever (v. Cleaver), 154.

- William le Clever, F F.

Clifden, 124.

- Raymund de Clifden, A.

- Thomas de Cliffedon, A.

Cliffe, 124.

- Thomas del Clif, A.

- Henry de Clyf, M.

Clifford, 124.

- Robert de Clyfford, M.

- Roger de Clyfford, E.

Cliffshend, 114.

- John de Cleveshend, E.

- Martin de Clyveshend, A.

Clifton, 124.

- Ralph de Clifton, A.

- Gervase Clifton, X X 1.

Clive, 124.

- Humfrey de la Clive, A.

- William atte Clyve, M.

Cliveley, 124.

- John de Clyveley, A.

- Nicholas Cleveley, X X 1.

Clockmaker, 401.

- Thomas Clokmaker, Y.

Cloisterer, 191.

- Johannes Closterer, W 12.

Clothier, Clothman.

- Robert Clothman, X X 2.

Clough, 124.

- Roger Clough, A.

- Richard Cloughe, Z.

Clouter, 352.

- John le Clutere, N.

- Stephen le Clutere, N.

Cloutman (v. Clouter), 352.

Clowes, 124.

- John Clowes, Z.

- Thomas Clowes, Z.

Coachman, 288.

- Dorothy Coachman, V 5.

- Telney Coachman, V 5.

- John Coacheman, Z.

Cobb, 124.

- Robert de Cobbe, M.

- Milisent Cobbe, A.

Cobbett (v. Cuthbert), 56.

Cobbler, 352.

- Robert le Cobeler, A.

- Edward Cobler, H.

Cobden, 124.

- Godfrey de Coppden, M.

- John Copedenne, A.

Cobham, 124.

- Reginald de Cobeham, M.

- John de Cobbeham, A.

Cobley, 124.

Cobwell, 124.

- John de Cobwell, M.

Cock

- (1), 145.

- Peter atte Cok, B.

- William atte Cok, G.

- (2), 485.

- John le Koc, A.

- Katerina le Cok, B.

Cockaigne, Cockayne, 148.

- Alan de Cokayne, A.

- Richard de Cockayne, A.

Cocker, 307.

- Simon le Cockere, A.

- William le Kokere, A.

- John le Coker, M.

Cockerell, 494.

- Giot Cockerel, M.

- Jac. Quoquerell, C.

Cockeyn (v. Cockaigne), 148.

Cockin (v. Cockaigne), 148.

- Richard Cokyn, H.

Cockman, 307.

- Maud Cockman, F F.

- Robert Cokeman, M.

Cockney, 148.

- John Cokeney, B.

Cocksbrain, 500.

- William Cockesbrayne, A.

Cockshead, 447.

- Adam Cocksheved, M.

- Antony Cockshead, Z.

Cockshaw, 117.

- Adam de Cokeshaw, A.

- John de Cokeshaw, A.

Cockshot, 116.

- Alan Cockshott, F.

- John Cockshott, Z.

Cockson (v. Cookson), 65.

- Edward Cockson, Z.

- John Cockson, E E.

Codde, 497.

- Thomas Codde, F F.

- Joan Codde, F F.

Codiner (v. Cordwaner), 351.

Codling, 497.

- Alan Codling, F F.

- Simon Codlyng, F F.

Codner (v. Cordwaner), 351.

Cœurdebeef, 500.

- Thomas Cordebeofe, A.

- John Queerdebœf, B.

Coffer, Cofferer, 218, 336, 396.

- Godfrey le Coffrer, A.

- Ralph le Coffrer, H.

- John le Coffrer, M.

Coffin, 144, 397.

- Richard Coffyn, H.

- Elias Coffyn, J.

Cogger, 408.

- Hamond le Cogger, O.

- Henry Cogger, P.

Cogman, 408.

- Benjamin Cogman, F F.

Coifer, 336.

- Emma le Coyfere, A.

- Ralph le Coifier E.

- Dionysia la Coyfere, A.

Coke (v. Cook), 206, 365.

- Roger le Coke, M.

- Alexander Coke, A.

Cole (v. Colin), 95.

Coleman, 22.

- Editha Coleman, A.

- Coleman le Hen, A.

Colet (v. Collet), 189, 96.

- Nicholas Colyt, M.

- William Kolytte, W 11.

Colfox, 499.

- Thomas Colfox, Z.

- Richard Colvox, A.

Colinson, 16, 96.

- William fil. Colin, A.

- Colin le Balistar, E.

Collet (v. Colet), 189, 96.

- Colletta Clarke, H H.

- Henry Collette, X X 1.

Collier.

- Robert le Coliere, A.

- John le Collier, C.

Collinge (v. Culling), 170.

Collins (v. Collinson), 96.

- Colinus de Barentyn, E.

- Colin le Ferur, A.

Collinson (v. Colinson), 96.

- John Collynson, Z.

- Lanclot Colynson, W 11.

Collopp, 333 n.

- John Collop, A.

- Mabil Collope, A.

Colson (v. Colinson), 96.

- George Collison, H H.

- Robert Colson, H H.

Colswain, 505.

- Stephen Colesweyne, A.

- Richard Colsweyn, T.

Colt, 490.

- Roger le Colt, A.

- William le Colt, A.

- Joan Colte, V 7.

Coltman, 267.

- John Coltman, H.

- Geoffrey Coltman, M.

- Richard Coltman, W 11.

Colville, 151.

- William de Colville, M.

- Felip de Colville, A.

Colyer (v. Collier).

- Henry le Colyer, A.

Comb, Combe, 125.

- Elias de Comb, A.

- William atte Combe, M.

- Nicholas atte Combe, M.

Comber, 320.

- John le Comber, A.

- Walter le Comber, E.

Commander.

- William le Comandur, A.

- William Commander, Z.

Conder, 377.

Coney, 139, 489.

- Henry Cony, D.

- John Conay, A.

Coneybeare, 139.

Coneythorp, 137.

- Robert de Conigthorpe, X X 4.

Congreave, 120.

- Robert de Conesgrave, A.

- William Congrove, H.

- Henry Conygrave, X X 2.

Coning, 139.

- Nicholas Conyng, H.

- Peter Conyng, P.

- Michael Conning, W 20.

Coningsby, 139.

- John de Conyngsby, P.

- Walter de Cunnyngby, A.

Conington, Connington, 139.

- John de Conyngton, A.

- Thomas de Conyton, A.

Conqueror.

- William Conqueror, A.

- Robert Conqueraunt, A.

Constable, 203.

- John le Conestable, B.

- Robert le Conestable, G.

Constance, 19, 67.

- William fil. Constance, A.

Convert, 167.

- Dyonis le Convers, A.

- Stephen le Convers, B.

- Nicholas le Conners, B.

Conyers (v. Convert), 197.

Cook, Cooke, 206, 365.

- Emma Coca, A.

- Roger le Cook, M.

- Joan le Cook, F F.

Cookman, 206, 365.

- William Cokeman, J.

- John Cookman, W 9.

Cookson, 65, 365.

- Robert fil. Coci, A.

- John Cokesson, F F.

- Henry Cukeson, W 11.

Cooper, 389, 394.

- Richard le Cupare, A.

- John le Cuper, M.

Coote, 494.

Cope, 124.

- Robert Cope, A.

- Adam Cope, M.

Copeland, 124.

- William de Copelaunde, E.

- John Copland, Z.

Copeman, 296, 124.

- Laurence Copiman, A.

- Hugh Cowpman, K.

Coper, 296.

- John le Copere, A.

Copestake, 124.

- William Copestake, Z.

Copley, 124.

- Avery Copley, Z.

- Christopher Copley, Z.

- Thomas de Coppeley, X X 4.

Copp

- (1).

- John le Coppe, A.

- Thomas le Coppe, A.

- (2), 124.

- John de la Coppe, F F.

- Richard de la Coppe, F F.

Copped 353.

- Hugh le Coppede, A.

- John le Copede, M.

Copperbeard, 449.

- Robert Coperberd, N.

Corbet, 151.

- Nicholas Corbet, M.

- Felicia Corbet, A.

Corder, 399.

- Adam le Corder, A.

- Peter le Corder, A.

Cordiner, Cordwaner, 351.

- Durant le Cordwaner, M.

- Roger le Cordewaner, C.

- Gervaise le Cordewaner, N.

Corfe, 452.

- John Chauf, A.

- Geoffrey le Cauf, E.

Coroner, 179.

- John le Coroner, M.

- Henry le Corouner, A.

Corner

- (1), 179.

- John le Corner, A.

- Waiter le Cornur, K.

- (2), 130, 179.

- William de la Cornere, A.

- Robert Atte Cornere, M.

Cornmonger, 275.

- Ralph le Cornmonger, T.

- Henry le Cornmongere, M.

Cornish, 147.

- William Cornish, D.

- Margery Cornish, H.

Cornthwaite, 121.

Cornwall, 169, 147.

- Geoffrey de Cornwayle, B.

- Wauter de Cornwaille, M.

Cornwallis, 148.

- Thomas le Cornwaleys, A.

- Philip le Cornwaleys, L.

- Walter le Cornewaleys, X.

Corsdebeef, 500.

- Thomas Cors-de-bœf, A.

- Thomas Cor-de-beofe, B.

- Galiena Cordebeof, J.

Corser, Corviser, 286, 351.

- Ralph le Coreviser, A.

- William le Corviser, B.

- Durand le Corveser, M.

Cosier, 352.

Cosser (v. Corser), 286.

Cotman

- (1), 252.

- Richard Coteman, A.

- William Coteman, A.

- (2).

- Thomas fil. Cotman, A.

- John fil. Cotman, A.

Cotter, 252.

- William le Cotier, A.

- Simon le Cotere, F F.

Cotterel, Cottrell, 252.

- William Coterel, M.

- Joice Cotterill, Z.

Cotwife, 252.

- Beatrix Cotewife, A.

Coucher, 360.

- John le Cochere, A.

- William Coucher, W 2.

Couchman (v. Coachman), 288.

- Richard Couchman, Z.

- William Cowcheman, E E.

Coudray, 154.

- William de Coudraye, M.

- Peter de Coudray, R.

Coulman, 337.

- Launcelot Coulman, Z.

Coulthart, Coulthard, Coulherd, 267.

- John Colthirde, W 9.

- Davy Cowthird, W 18.

Coultman, 267.

Councillor, Councilman, 185.

Count, 174.

- John le Cunte, E.

- Peter le Counte, G.

- Richard le Counte, N.

Countess, 174, 507.

- Judetha Commitissa, A.

- John Countesse, A.

Countryman.

- John Cuntreman, A.

Couper, 394.

- Nicholas le Couper, A.

- Warin le Couper, M.

Couperess, 394.

- Roger Couperesse, A.

Coupman.

- Richard Coupman, A.

Courcy, 151.

Court.

- Baldwin atte Curt, M.

- Godfrey ate Curt, M.

Cousen, Cousin, Couzen, 429.

- Richard le Cusyn, A.

- John le Cosyn, G.

- Thomas le Cozun, E.

Cover, 395.

- Richard le Cuver, O.

- Walter le Cuver, E.

- Michael le Cuver, A.

Coverer, 395.

- Robert le Coverour, A.

- Adam le Covreur, M.

Covetous, 483.

- Gilbert le Covetiose, M.

Cow

- (1), 490.

- Thomas le Cu, A.

- Ralph le Cou, M.

- (2), 485.

- Thomas del Cou, M.

Coward, 266.

- William le Kuherde, A.

- John le Couherde, D.

- Adam le Cowhirde, M.

Cowbeytson, 56.

- Nicholas Cowbeytson, W 9.

Cowden, 118.

- Thomas Cowden, F F.

- Nathaniel Cowden, F F.

Cowler, 337.

- Richard le Couhelere, M.

Cowley, 119.

- Alexander de Couleye, A.

- Roger de Couele, A.

Cowman, 271.

Cowper (v. Couper), 389, 394.

- Willelmus Cowpere, W 19.

Cowpman, (v. Coupman) 394.

- Richard Cowpeman, A.

Coxhead (v. Cockshead), 447.

- Thomas Coxhead, H H.

Coxon (v. Cockson), 65.

Coyking, 505.

- John Coyking, M.

Crabb, 497.

Crabtree.

- John Crabtre, W 16.

- William Crabtree, W 16.

Crackshield, 462.

- Thomas Crackyshield.

Cramp (v. Crump), 440.

- William Cramp, Z.

Cramphorn, 461.

- Joseph Cramphorne.

Crane, 144, 494.

- Hugh le Crane, G.

- William le Crane, E.

Crask, 432.

- Walter le Crask, F F.

Crass, 432.

- Richard le Cras, A.

- John le Cras, M.

- Stephen Crassus, J.

Crestolot, 16.

- Crestolot de Pratis, DD.

Crimp (v. Crump), 440.

Cripling, 441.

- William Crypling, A.

Crisp, 450.

- Robert le Crespe, A.

- Reginald le Crispe, J.

Crocker 392.

- Simon le Crockere, A.

- Stephen le Crockere, M.

Croft, Crofts, 132.

- Roger de Croftes, A.

- Agnes de Croftis, A.

Croiser, 158.

- Simon le Croiser, M.

- William Croiser, H.

Croker, 392.

- Robert Croker, F.

- John le Croker, M.

Crook, 461.

- Roger le Cruk, M.

- John Cruke, A.

Crookbone, 440.

- Henry Croakbane, A.

- Geoffrey Crokebayn, W 4.

Crooke (v. Crook), 440.

- Vincent Crooke, Z.

Crookhorn, 461.

- John Crokehorn, B.

- Robert Crokehorn, T.

Cropper, 256.

- Roger the Cropper, A A 2.

- Robin the Cropper, A A 2.

Crosier (v. Crozier), 190.

- William Croyser, G.

Cross, Crosse, 130.

- John atte Cross, M.

- Roger del Cros, R.

- Jordan ad Crucem, A.

Crosser, 113.

Crossman, 113.

- Julyan Crosman, Z.

- Emme Crossman, Z.

Crossthwaite, 121.

- Henry de Crosthweyte, M.

- John de Crostwyt, R.

Crossweller (v. Cressweller), 113.

Crotch, Crouch, 130.

- John atte Cruche, A.

- Matilda atte Crouche, B.

Croucher, 113, 130.

- John le Crocher, K.

- John Crowcher, F F.

Crouchman, 113, 130.

- Richard Crocheman, A.

- William Croucheman, B.

Crow, 494.

- Claricia Crowe, A.

- Robert Crowe, M.

Crowder, 310.

- Ricard le Cruder, A.

- Thomas le Crouder, W 2.

Crowfoot, 500.

- William Crowfoot, F F.

- Henry Crowfoot, F F.

Crowther (v. Crowder), 310.

Crozier, 190.

- Simon le Croyser, M.

- Mabel le Croyser, G.

Cruel, 464, 484.

- Warin Cruel, A.

Cruikshank, 438.

Crump, 440.

- Richard le Crumppe, A.

- Hugh le Crumpe, T.

Cryer, 183.

- Philip le Criour, E.

- Wat le Creyer, G.

- Edward le Creiour, N.

Cuckhold.

- Thomas le Cuckold, A.

- Matilda Cuckold, A.

Cuckoo, 494.

- Stephen Cuckoo, F F.

- William Cuckow, F F.

- Thomas Cuckowe, V 13.

Cuddie (v. Cuthbert), 55.

Cullen, Culling, 170.

- John de Coloigne, F F.

- William de Culinge, A.

- Alan Culling, A.

Culver, 495.

Cuner, 404.

- Ada le Cuner, A.

- Henry Cunator, A.

Cunerer, 404.

- Samson le Cunerer, A.

Cunning, 139, 469.

Cunningham, 139.

Cuppage, 215.

- John Cupage, A A 3.

Cupper, 389.

- William le Cuppere, G.

- Thomas le Cupper, M.

Cure.

- John le Cure, A.

- Anne Cure, Z.

Curl, 450.

- Marcus Curie, Z.

- William Curle, Z.

Curling (v. Querdelyun), 499.

Currier, 331.

Curt, 432.

- Thomas le Curt, R.

- William le Curt, L.

Curtman.

- Adam Curtman, A.

Curtbrand, 457.

- Reginald Curtbrant, B.

Curteis, 468, 464.

- Walkelin le Curteis, C.

- Richard le Curteis, E.

Curtepy, 456.

- Richard Curtepie, A.

- William Cortepy, A.

Curthose, 456.

- Robert Curthose, A.

- Robert Curthose, P P.

Curtis, 468, 464.

- Osbert le Curteys, A.

- Walter le Curteys, J.

Curtmantel, 456.

- Henry Curtmantel, P P.

Curtvalor, 456.

- Richard Curtevalur, A.

Curtwailet, 456.

- Martin Curtwallet, A.

Cuss, Cusson, (v. Custson), 67.

- Eliza Cusse, W 9.

- Matilda fil. Cusse, A.

- Osbert Cuson, A.

- Cuss Balla, A.

Cussot, 67.

- Cussot Colling, A.

Cust, 67.

- Custe Newman, A.

- Robert fil. Cust, A.

- Custe Alver, A.

Custance, 67.

- Custance la Braceresse, A.

- Henry fil. Custance, W 6.

- Reyner Custance, A.

Custerson, Custson, 67.

- William Custson, W 8.

- Henry fil. Custance, A.

Cutbeard, 56.

- Thomas Cutbert, H.

- John Cutbert, A.

- William Cutteberd, W.

Cute, 465.

- Nicholas le Cute, A.

- Benedict le Cuyt, A.

Cuteswain, 505.

- John Cutsweyn, A.

Cuthbert, 56.

- Cuthbert Capun, R.

- Cuthbert Ricerson, W 3.

Cuthbertson, 56.

- Elizabeth Cuthbertson, W 16.

- Thomas Cuthbertson, W 11.

Cutler, 282, 390.

- Walter le Cotiler, A.

- Peter le Coteler, M.

- Jordan le Cotiler, N.

Cyderer, 261.

D’Aeth (v. Death), 168.

Daffe, 441.

- Lefeke Daffe, A.

Daft, 441.

- William Daft, A.

Daisy, 485.

- Roger Daisye, V 9.

Dakins, 188, 83.

Dale,

- Sibill de Dale, D.

- Thomas de la Dale, M.

Dallman, D’Almaine, Dalmaine, (v. Aleman), 165.

- Custance de Alemania, A.

Dalman, 165.

- John Dalman, F F.

- William Dalman, F F.

Dame, 84.

- Henry Dame, A.

- Alexander Dame, M.

Damegod, 511.

- Peter Damegod, M.

- John Domegode, O.

Damsell, 84.

- Simon Damsell, A.

- Lawrence Damysell, W 2.

Dameson, 84.

- John Damson, Z.

Damet, Damiot, 84.

- Dametta, A.

- Dametta fil. Morrell, DD.

- Henry Damett, R.

- Hugh Damiot, A.

- Damietta Avenel, F F.

- Alice Damyett, Z.

Damned-Barebones, 78.

Damsel (v. Damsell), 84.

- Damosel Skren, Q Q.

Dance (v. Dans), 84.

Dancer, 307.

- Herveus le Danser, A.

- Henry Dawnser, Z.

Dancock, 84.

- John Dancock, G.

Dandelyan, 499.

- William Daundelyun B.

Danett, 84.

- Ralph Danett, P P.

- Thomas Danet, X X 1.

Daniel, 84.

- Daniel fil. John, E.

- Richard Danyel, M.

Dankin (v. Daniel), 84.

- Gunnilda Danckin, K.

Dann, Danett, 84.

- Daniel Dann, P P.

- Henry Dann, P P.

- Moses Dannett, V 5.

- John Dannett, V 4.

Dans, Danse, 84.

- John Danse, Z.

Danser (v. Dancer), 307.

Danson, 84.

- Christopher Danson, Z.

- John Danson, Z.

- Marmaduke Danson, W 11.

Dapifer, 211.

- Henry Dapifer, A.

- Sewall Dapifer, J.

Darling.

- Jane Darling, W 20.

Dason (v. Davison), 83.

Dauber, 250.

- Roger le Daubere, A.

- Silvester Daubere, H.

David, 83.

- David Faber, A.

- Gilbert David, A.

Davidson, 83.

- Robert fil. David, A.

- Thomas Davydson, M.

Davies, 83.

- Davey ap Davidson, Z.

- Gerves Daves, W 9.

- Davy Cowthird, W 18.

Davison, 83.

- James Davyson, W 9.

- Thomas Davyson, F F.

Davitt (v. David), 83.

- Robert fil. Davit, A.

- Isabel uxor Davit, A.

Dawber (v. Dauber), 250

Dawe, Dawes, 83.

- Daw le Pestour, H.

- Dawe le Falconer, DD.

- Lovekin Dawes, A.

Dawkes, 83.

- Charles Dawkes, F F.

- Robert Dawkes, V 5.

Dawkins, 83.

- John Dawkyns, F.

- Henry Dawkins, Z.

- Dorken le Bercher, A.

Dawkinson, 83.

Dawson, 83.

- Richard fil. Dawe, A.

- Raffe Dawson, Z.

Day, Daye, 273.

- Cecilia le Day, J.

- Stephen le Dagh, T.

- Thomas le Day, M.

Dayes, 83.

Dayman, 273.

Dayson (v. Davison), 83.

Daystar.

- Robert Daysterre, A.

Deacon, 188.

- Senxa le Dekene, A.

- Philip le Dekene, M.

Deakin, 188.

Dean

- (1), 156.

- Roger le Dene, A.

- John le Dene, F F.

- (2), 118.

- William de la Dene, A.

- Adam atte Dene, M.

Dearden, 118.

- Ralph de Derneden, A.

Dearlove, 47.

- William Derelove, F.

- Richard Dorelove, Z Z.

- Thomas Dearlove W 16

Dearman (v. Deerman), 235

Death, 168, 510.

- John Deth, M.

- Hugh de Dethe, A.

Debenham, 17, 146.

- John de Debenham, A.

- Giles de Debenham, F F.

Debonaire, 467.

- Philip le Debeneyre, A.

Decroix, 153.

Deer, 443.

- Robert le Dere, A.

- Lawrence le Deer, M.

Deerman, 235.

- John Dereman, A.

- William Dereman, A.

Defend, 103.

- Defend Outered.

Defontaine, 153.

Delamere, 153.

- Reginald de la Mere, A.

- Grigore de la Mere, A.

Delarue, 153.

Delilah, 77.

Delisle, 153.

Deliver, 465.

- Ralph le Delivere, M M.

Delivery, 77.

Deman, 273.

- Roger Deyman, Z.

Demer, 180.

- Simon le Demer, B.

Dempster, 180.

- Christopher Dempster, Q.

Den, 118.

- Henry de Denn, M.

- William ate Denne, M.

Denis (v. Dennis), 70.

Denison (v. Dennison), 70.

Denman, 119, 270.

- Ralph Denmane, Z Z.

Dennis

- (1).

- Denneyse Fowler, Z.

- Denes Lister, W 9.

- Richard Dionys, M.

- (2), 162.

- Joel le Deneys, A.

- Brice le Daneis, M.

- James le Danoys, X X 1.

Dennison

- (1), 70.

- Henry Dennison, W 16.

- John Denyson, W 13.

- Michael fil. Dionysiæ, A.

- (2).

- Walter Denizen, A.

Dent-de-fer, 434.

- Robert Dent-de-fer, E.

Denthorp, 137.

- Catherine Denthorp, X X 4.

Denyer, 119, 270.

Departedieu, 511.

- John Departe-dieu, F F.

Deputy.

- Thomas Deputy, W 20.

Derbyshire, 147.

- Henry Derbyshyre, Z Z.

- Thomas Derbyshire, Z Z.

Derne, 118 n.

Dernhouse, 118 n.

- Thomas Dernehuse, A.

Derwentwater, 429.

- Henry de Derwentwater, M.

- Thomas de Derwentwater, L.

Despencer, Despenser, 175.

- Thurstan le Despencer, A.

- Edward le Despenser B.

Deus-salvet-dominas, 511.

- Roger Deus-salvet-dominas, v. p. 511.

Devil, Deville, 153.

- John Deyvyle, A.

- Thomas de Deyvyle, T.

Devonish, 147.

- John le Deveneis, E.

- Isabel le Deveneis, A.

- Nichol le Devenys, M.

Dewhurst, 116.

- John Derhurste, X X 1.

- Grace Dewhirste, Z Z.

Deye (v. Day), 273.

- Hugh le Deye, G.

- Cecily le Deye, F F.

Deyville, 153.

- Goscelin de Eyville, M.

- John de Eyville, M.

Diacony, 188 n.

- Michell Diacony, X X 1.

Diable, 153.

- Osbert Diabolus, C.

- Roger le Diable, J.

Dibden, 118 n.

- Randolph de Dependen, A.

- John Debden, X X 1.

Diccons, Dicconson, 65.

- (1),

- John fil. Decani, A.

- Amice fil. Decani, A.

- (2),

- John Dyconson, H.

- Anthonye Dickonsonne, W 9.

Dick, 40.

- Agatha Dick, F F.

- John Dik, F F.

Dickens, 40.

- William Dicons, F F.

- Richard Dikkins, F F.

Dickenson (v. Dicconson), 16, 40.

- Robert Dickenson, Z Z.

- William Dykynson, Z Z.

Dicker, 257.

- Symon le Diker, A.

- Geoffrey le Dykere, A.

Dickerson, 40.

- Henry Dickerson, F F.

Dickman, 257.

- Walter Dikeman, A.

- Agnes Dykman, B.

- Henry Dickman, V 5.

Dicks, 40.

- William Dikkys, F F.

- Thomas Dykys, F F.

Dickson, 40.

- Ralph Dikson, F.

- Nicholas Dykson, W 2.

Dieu-te-ayde, 511.

- John Dieu-te-ayde, M.

Digger, 257.

- William Digger, V 2.

Diggs (v. Dicks), 40.

- Robert Diggs, 257 n.

- Anne Digges, Z.

Digginson (v. Dickenson), 40.

- John Digginson, Z.

- Agnes Digison, Z.

Dinah, 100.

- Dyna Bocher, 100.

Dionisia, Dionisius, 70.

- Dionisius Garston, W 11.

- Dionise Argentein, H H.

- Dionysia la Coyfere, A.

- Michael fil. Dionisie, A.

Discipline, 77.

Disher, 393.

- John le Discher, O.

- Robert le Dishere, X.

Disheress, 393.

- Margaret le Disheresse, A.

Disser, Dissour, 314.

- Roger le Disser, A.

Dister, 322.

- Robert le Dighestere, G.

- Walter le Dighestere, G.

- Thomas Dyster, B.

Ditchend, 114.

- John de Dichende, R.

Dives, 431.

- Elyas le Diveys, A.

Dix (v. Dicks), 40.

- William Dixe, Z.

- Thomas Dickes, F F.

Dixon (v. Dickson), 40.

- Bayll Dixson, W 9.

- Agnes Dixson, Z.

Dobbins, 39.

- Toby Dobbin, F F.

- John Dobbins, Z.

- Matilda Dobin, A.

Dobbs, 39.

- Roger Dobbs, M.

- Richard Dobbys, E E.

- Robert Dobbis, W 17.

Dobinett.

- John Dobynette, v. p. 39, n.

Dobinson, Dobison, Dobson, 39.

- Miles Dobsonne, Z Z.

- Richard Dobyson, W 2.

- Henry Dobbinson, W 20.

Dodman, 304.

- Peter Dodeman, A.

- John Dodman, F F.

Dodson (v. Davidson), 83.

- John Daudson, M.

- Adam Doddson, Z Z.

Doe, 489.

- John le Doe, A.

- William le Do, A.

Dog, 492.

- Nicholas Dogge, A.

Dogmow, 434.

- William Dogmow, A.

- Arnulph Dogmow, A.

Dollman, 165.

- Ales Dolman, Z.

- Mathew Dolman, E E.

Dolphin, 497.

- John Dolfin, Z.

- William Dolfin, A.

Doman (v. Doorman), 204.

Domitt, 84.

- Henry Domet, A.

Dook (v. Duke), 174.

Doolittle, 500.

Doomsday.

- Richard Domesdaye, F F.

- Margery Domesday (Lower).

Doorman, 204.

- Nicholas Doreman, O.

Doorward, 204.

- Geoffrey le Doreward, A.

- Elias Dorewarde, B.

- Isabel Dorewarde, H.

Dorman (v. Doorman), 204.

Dorturer, 192.

- Robert le Dorturer, B.

- William le Dorturer, DD.

Dosier, 360.

- Robert le Dosier, A.

- Richard le Dosyere, A.

Dosser (v. Dosier), 360.

- Gilbert le Dosser, A.

- John Dawsor, E E.

Dosson, 69.

Doubleman, 389.

Doubler, 389.

- Hans Doubler, O.

- John Doblere, X.

Doublerose.

- Annabell Doublerose.

Douce (v. Dowse), 69.

Doucett (v. Dowsett).

- John Doucett, P P.

Douch, 165.

Doughty, 467.

- John Doughty, F F.

- Thomas Doughtye, Z Z.

Dove, 494.

- Richard le Duv, M.

- Nicholas le Duv, M.

Dowch, 165.

Dowkin (v. Dowse), 69.

- Richard Dowkin, F.

Downe, 125.

- John de la Doune, B.

- Nicholas atte Doune, M.

Downyhead, 447.

- John Downyhead, M.

Dowsabell, 19, 70.

- Dowsabell Cobbe, F F.

- Dowzable Mill, Z.

- Dussabell Caplyn, Z.

- Thomas Duszabell, M.

Doomsday, 63.

- Richard Domesday, F F.

Doucett (v. Duckett), 70.

Dowse, 69.

- Duce Mercatrix, A.

- Douce de Moster, A.

- William Douce, M.

Dowsett (v. Dowse), 69.

- Walter fil. Dussote, A.

Dowson, 69.

- John fil Dousæ, W 5.

- John Dowsson, Z.

- Stephen Dowson, F.

Dragon, 428.

- Walter le Dragon, A.

- William le Dragon, A.

Drake, 494.

- Adam le Drake, B.

- Martin le Drake, E.

Draper, 286.

- Roger le Draper, A.

- Henry le Drapier, M.

Drawespe, 461.

- Thomas Drawespe, A.

- William Drauespe, A.

Drawlace, 502.

- John Drawlace, W 18.

Drawsword, 461.

- Henry Draweswerd, A.

- Maurice Draugheswerd, M.

Draw-water, 410.

- Richard Drawater, A.

Drayner, 257.

- Elizabeth Draner, Z.

- Thomas Draner, Z.

Dresser, 261.

- Raphe Dresser, Z.

- John Dresser, W 16.

Drew, 31.

- William fil. Drogo, A.

- Dru Barentyn, H.

- Drewe Drewery, Z.

Drewett, 31.

- Druett Malerbe, A.

- Druetta de Pratello, A.

Drynk-ale, 481.

- Jakes Drynkale, X X 1.

Drink-dregs, 481.

- Geoffrey Dringkedregges, V 8.

Drinkwater, 481.

- John Drinkewater, A.

- Richard Drynkewatere, M.

Driver, 288.

- John le Drivere, M.

- Richard le Drivere, M.

- James Driver, W 16.

Driveress, 281.

- Alice le Driveress, A.

Drunkard, 481.

- Maurice Druncard, A.

Drybread, 501.

- John Drybred, A.

Dubber, 354.

- Jordan le Dubbere, B.

- Stephen le Dubbere, M.

- Payen le Dubbour, N.

Dubois, 153.

- John Dubois, A.

Ducatel, 153.

Duce, (v. Dowse), 69.

- Duce Vidua, A.

- Agnes fil. Duce, A.

- John fil. Duce, A.

Ducedame, 481.

- Roger Ducedame, A.

Duceparole, 468.

- Henry Duceparole, T.

Duck, 174 n.

- Roger le Duc, E.

- Adam le Duk, M.

- William le Duck, T.

Ducket (v. Dowsett), 70.

- Margery Duckett, H H.

- Robert Duckett, P P.

- Dulcia Duket, A.

Duckrell, 494.

Dudder, 303.

Dudderman, Duderman, Dudman, 303.

- Simon Dudeman, D.

- Ralph Deudeman, M.

- Obbe Dudeman, E.

Duffus, 131.

- Thomas Dufhouse, X.

- John del Duffus, A.

Duke, 174.

- Nicholas Duke, A.

- Thomas Duke, B.

Dukeson (v. Douce).

- Robert Dukeson, Z.

Dulcia (v. Duce), 69.

- Robert fil. Dulcie, A.

- Dulcia le Drapere, G.

- Dulcia fil. Willliam, E.

- Dulcia Boveton, A.

Dulcibella (v. Dowsabell), 70.

Dulson (v. Dulcia), 70.

Dull.

- Alicia le Dul, A.

Dumbard, 442.

- Robert Dumbard, A.

Dun

- (1), 125.

- Gilbert atte Dune, A.

- Henry de la Dun, K.

- (2), 445.

- Henry le Dun, A.

- William le Dun, B.

Duncalf, 490.

- John Duncalf, A A 1.

- William Duncalf, A A 1.

Dunman, 395.

- William Dunman, A.

- John Dunman, A.

Dunn (v. Dun), 395.

- William le Dunne, A.

Dupont, 153.

Durand, Durant.

- Henry fil. Durant, A.

- Durand le Bonjohan, A.

- Ivo Duraunt, A.

Duredent, 434.

- Walter Duredent, E.

Durnford, 118 n.

- Radegund Derneford, R R 1.

- Robert de Derneford, A.

Durward (v. Doorward), 204.

- John Durward, B.

Dust, 77.

Dutchman, 163.

Dutchwoman, 163.

- Katherine Dutchwoman, X.

Duzamour, 474.

- Felicia Duzamour, v. p. 474.

Dyer, 322.

- John le Deyere, A.

- Geoffrey le Deghere, G.

- Nicholas le Deighere, M.

Dyot, Dyott, Dyotson, (v. Dionisia), 70.

- Diota de Walworte, W 19.

- Dyot Hayne, W 11.

- Diotson, W 11.

Dyson (v. Dionysia), 70.

- William Dysone, M.

Dyster (v. Dister), 322.

Eagle, 145, 485.

- (1),

- Gilbert de la Hegle, A.

- (2),

- Custance le Egle, A.

Eaglebeard, 449.

- Ismay Egleberd, A.

Eame (v. Eme), 429.

Earl, 145.

- Roger le Erl, A.

- John Erle, B.

Earnshaw, 117.

Earth, 77.

East, 150.

- Robert de la Este, A.

- Christopher Easte, Z.

Eastend, 115.

- Emma ate Estende, A.

- Adam in Estend, A.

Easterling, 164.

Eastern, 150.

- Thomas Esterne, A.

Eborard, 27.

- Geoffrey fil. Eborard, A.

- Eborard le Ken, A.

Edeline (v. Adeline), 19.

- Robert fil. Edeline, A.

- Edelina del Brok, K.

- Edelina Ayleve, A.

Edelota (v. Edeline).

- Edelota Darby, A.

- Ydelot Binytheton, K.

Edith, 19.

- John fil. Edithe, A.

- Editha uxor Edwardi, C.

Edmond, Edmonds, 19.

- Edmon le Ussher, M.

- Walter Edmonds, Z.

Edmondson, 19.

- Robert Edmondson, Z.

Edmund, Edmunds, 5, 19.

- Robert Eadmund, A.

- Edmund Bullok, Z.

Edmundson, 19.

- John fil. Eadmundi, A.

- Alexander fil. Eadmund, A.

Edred.

- John Edred, A.

- Thomas Edrede, A.

Edward, Edwardes, 19.

- Roger Eadward, A.

- Robert Edward, M.

Edwardson, 19.

- George Edwardson, X X 1.

- Emma fil. Edward, A.

Eimeric, 26.

Elcock, 87.

- Francis Elcock, Q.

- Roger Hellecok, A.

Elder, 432.

Eleanor (v. Alianora).

- Eleanor Lovet, H.

- Hugh fil. Elyenore, A.

- Elner Martin, Z.

Elias, 86.

Eliot, Eliott, 87.

- Elyot ad Cap: Ville, A.

- Eliottus de Balliol, E.

- Richard Eliot, M.

Elizabeth, 79 n.

- Elizabeth Draner, Z.

Elcock, 87.

- John Elcock, Z Z.

- Henry Elcocke, Z Z.

Elkins, Elkinson, 86.

- Elekyn, N.

- Robert Elkyn, X.

Ellcock (v. Elcock), 87.

Ellen (v. Eleanor), 72.

- David fil. Elene, A.

- Elene le Fleming, J.

Ellice, 86.

- Duce Elice A.

- Ellice Cowper, Z.

- Elice Apprice, Z.

Ellicot, 87 n.

- Elisote, A.

- Ellisote Dispenser, A.

- Elisota Domicella, W 2.

- Elisot Bustard, W 2.

Elliot (v. Eliot), 16, 87.

- Richard fitz Elote, M.

- Henry Elyot, A.

Elliotson, 87.

- Robert Elyotson, F.

Ellis, 86.

- Elis le Fitz-Hugh, M.

- Elis de Albrighton, M.

- Nicholas Ellys, F.

Ellison, 86.

- Henry fil. Elis, A.

- John Ellison, F.

- Elias fil. Elye, M.

Ellson, 86.

- Roger fil. Elie, A.

- William Elson, H.

Elmer (v. Aylmer), 29.

- Richard Eilmar, A.

- William Elmer, M.

Elmhurst, 116.

Elmsley, 119.

- Albred de Elmsleie, A.

Elwyn (v. Aylwin), 29.

- Elwyn le Heyward, A.

- William Elwin, A.

Ember, 61.

- Ember Soleiroll, Q Q.

Emberson (v. Emerson), 29.

Eme, 429.

- Nicholas Eme, A.

Emelia, 19, 87 n.

- Emelia la Prys, M.

Emelot, 87 n.

- Emelot, J.

- Elena Emelot (v. Emelia), A.

Emeric, 29, 87 n.

- Emeric de Bezill, A.

- Emericus de Sacy, B.

- Emericus de Bosco, C.

Emerson, 29.

- Richard Emryson, W 12.

- John fil. Emerici, M.

- William Emeryson, W 8.

- Richard Emerson, W 2.

Emery, 29.

- Emerius Monetarius, C.

- William Emery, D.

Emlott (v. Emelot), 87 n.

Emma, 68.

- Emma mater Andreas, C.

- Emma la Gradere, A.

- Emma uxor Saer, J.

Emme, Emmes, 68.

- Walter Em, A.

- William Emms, A.

- Edmund Emmes, F F.

Emmet, Emmett, 16, 68.

- Emmetta Catton, X.

- Emmet Flessour, W 9.

- Emmet Chapman, W 9.

Emmot (v. Emmott), 16, 68.

Emmotson, 68.

Emmott, 68.

- Emmota Plummer, W 2.

- Emmota Fysscher, W 2.

- Emmot Kneyt, A.

Emperor, 173.

- Richard le Emperer, G.

Empson, 68.

- Richard Empson, H.

- John Emmeson, F F.

Emson, 68.

- Elyas fil. Emme, A.

- John Emyson, F.

Enfant, 202.

- John le Enfaunt, A.

- Walter le Enfaunt, H.

- John le Enfant, E.

Engineer, 229 (v. Jenner).

- William le Engynur, A.

- Richard le Enginur, B.

- Ernulf le Enginnur, E.

English, 149.

- Walter le Engleis, A.

- Richard le Engleys, B.

- John le Englisshe, M.

Enota, 87 n.

- Enota Coly, A.

Envious, 464.

- Hamo le Enveyse, A.

- William le Enveise, C.

Epiphany, 61.

- Epiphania Jackson, Q Q.

Eremite (v. Hermit), 196.

- Hugh le Ermite, E.

Ernald (v. Arnold), 28.

- Ernaldus de Baiona, C.

- Ernaldus Carnifex, C.

- Peter Ernald, R.

Escot (v. Scott), 148.

- Roger le Escot, A.

- Adam le Escot, H.

Escriveyn (v. Scriven), 362.

- Robert le Escriveyn, E.

- William le Escrevyn, G.

Eskirmesur (v. Skrimshire), 220.

- Henry le Eskirmessur, A.

- Peter le Eskurmesur, E.

- John le Eskirmesour, K.

Espaigne (v. Spain), 161.

- Arnold de Espaigne, H.

- John de Ispania, A.

Espicer (v. Spicer), 329.

- Alan le Especer, A.

- Milo le Espicer, N.

- Richard le Espicer, B.

Espigurnell (v. Spigurnell), 183.

- Nicholas Espigurnel, A.

- Edmund le Espigurnel, L.

Espin (v. Espaigne), 161.

Esquier (v. Squier), 166.

- Thomas le Esquier, E.

- Gilbert le Esquier, J.

Esquiler (v. Squiller), 174.

- William le Esquiler, H.

- Robert le Escuyller, E.

Estrange (v. Strange), 146.

- Robert le Estrange, A.

- John le Estrange, R.

Estraunge (v. Straunge), 146.

- Roger le Estraunge, H.

- John le Estraunge, J.

Estrys, 150.

- Moyne le Estrys, A.

- Richard le Estreys, T.

Etheldreda (v. Audry), 19.

- Etheldreda Castell, F F.

- Etheldred or Audrey Clerc, F F.

Ethelred, 5.

Euphemia, 19.

- Eufemia de Grey, K.

- Eufemia de Heslarton, W 9.

Eustace, 18.

- Herveus fil. Eustace, A.

Evans, Evanson.

- Howell ap Yevan, H.

- David ap Evan, Z.

Eve, 3, 81.

- Eva Textrix, A.

- Eva la Warre, J.

- Eva fil. Dolphini, J.

Evelyn, Eveline, 87 n.

- Evelina Coynterel, A.

- George Evelynge, Z.

Everard, 29.

- Fulco fil. Everardi, R.

- Everard Gallicus, E.

- Geoffrey fil. Everard, A.

Everardson (v. Evorard).

- Nicholas Everardsonne, B B.

- Peter Everadsonne, B B.

Eversden, 118.

- John de Eversdene, A.

- Luke de Eversden, DD.

Eversholt, 116.

- Richard de Eversholt, M.

- John de Everesholt, R.

Every, 29.

- John Every, H.

- William Everye, Z.

Eves (v. Eveson), 81.

Evesk (v. Vesk), 156.

- Henry le Eveske, E.

- Elyas le Eveske, T.

Eveson, 81.

- John fil. Eve, M.

- Cecilia fil. Evæ, T.

- Richard fil. Eve, A.

Evett, 81.

- Evota de Durham, X.

- Evota de Stanley, W 2.

- William Evote, X.

Evil, Evill, 153.

- Peter de Evyille, M.

Evilchild, 506.

- Alan Evilchild, A.

Evitt (v. Evett), 81.

Evott (v. Evett), 81.

Ewe

- (1), 445.

- Leticia le Eue, M.

- Nicholas le Ewe, F F.

- (2), 118.

- Jordan del Ewe, A.

- John del Ewe, A.

Ewer, 214.

- Brian le Ewer, E.

- Richard le Ewere, H.

- William le Ewer, T.

Ewery, 214.

- Adam le Euere, A.

- Roger de Euere, M.

Excuser, 180.

- Peter le Es-cuzer, H.

Experience.

- Experience Mayhew, 103

Eyre, 202.

- William le Eyr, B.

- Simon le Heir, A.

- Robert le Eir, M.

Eyville, 153.

- Nicholas de Eyvil, A.

- John de Eyvill, R.

Ezekiel, 100.

- Ezekiel Guppye, Z.

Ezota (v. Elizabeth).

- Ezota Hall, W 11.

Faber.

- Silvester Faber, A.

- Nicholas Faber, H.

Fail, 154.

- Gilbert Fayel, E.

- Matilda Faiel, E.

Faint-not, 103.

- Faint-not Dighurst, 103.

Fair, 475.

- Richard le Fayre, A.

- Marcus le Faire, C.

Fairbrother, 508.

Fairchild, 508.

- Robert Fayrchild, A.

- Godfrey Fairchilde, C.

Fairclough, 124.

- William Fairclough, Z.

- Hugh Faierclugh, Z.

Fairfax, 449.

- Thomas Fayrfax, M.

- Guy Fairefax, H.

- William Farefaxe, W 18

Fairhair, 448.

- Geoffrey Fairher, N.

- Edward Fayreheire, Z.

Fairhead, 435.

- William Fairheved, A.

- Richard Faireheved, H.

Fairman, 304.

- (1),

- John Fayerman, A.

- Richard Fayrman, A.

- (2),

- Fairman Alberd, M.

Fairesire, 506.

- Henry Fairesire, X.

Fairson, 506.

- Richard Fairsone, M.

Fairweather, 472.

- John Fayrweder, A.

- Hugh Fairweder, A.

Faith, 103.

- Faythe Childe, W 14.

- Fayth Neville, W 14.

Faithful, 104.

- Faythful Fortescue, 104.

Fakes (v. Fawkes), 50.

- Fakes de Breante, E.

Falcon, 493.

- William le Falcon, M.

Falconar, Falconer, Falkener, Falkner, 240.

- Guido le Falconare, A.

- Geoffrey le Falconer, M.

- William le Falkoner, M.

- Antony Falkner, Z.

Fallow, 446.

- Roger le Falewe, A.

- Alicia la Falour (?), A.

Fallowman, 446.

- William Faleman (?), A.

False.

- Agnes le Faleise, J.

Fanner, 276.

- Walter le Fannere, X.

- Simon le Fannere, X.

Fanne, 276.

- William atte Fanne, R.

- Margery Fanne, Z.

Farebrother, 430.

Farewell, 512.

- Thomas Farewel, A.

- Richard Farewell, A.

Farmer, 271.

- William le Farmere, A.

- Robert le Fermere, A.

Farrier (v. Ferrier), 290.

- Sibilla le Feryere, A.

Farthing, 456.

- Geoffrey Ferthing, A.

- William Ferthing, M.

Father, 430.

- Arnold le Fader, A.

- Robert le Fader, R.

Fatherless, 430.

- John Faderless, M.

- Ralph Faderles, S S.

Fatman, 431.

- Richard Fatman, F F.

Fatt, 431.

- William le Fatte, M.

- Alan Fatt, P P.

Fauconer, Faukener, Faulconer, (v. Falconer), 240.

- Bernard le Fauconer, M.

- John le Faukener, A.

- Henry le Faucuner, E.

Faulkes (v. Fawkes), 50.

- Edmund Falkes, H.

Faulkner (v. Falconer), 240.

Faultless, 463.

Faucet (v. Fauset).

Fauset (v. Fawkes).

- Richard Fauset, P P.

Faux (v. Fawkes), 50.

- Nel Faukes, A.

- John Faux, H.

- Nicholas Faukes, A.

Favell, 445.

- Hugh Fauvel, M.

- John Fauvel, M.

Fawcett (v. Fawsett).

Fawkes, 50.

- Faukes le Buteller, A.

- Faukesius de Breant, A.

- Fauke de Glamorgan, E.

Fawsett (v. Fawkes).

- Robert Fawcett, P P.

Fawson, Faxson, 50.

Fayle (v. Fail), 154.

Fear-not, 103.

- Fere-not Rhodes, 103.

Fearon (v. Feron), 244.

Featherbeard, 449.

- John Featherberde, H.

Featherstonehaugh, 133.

Feelgood.

- William Felegod, A.

Felicia, 19.

- Felicya Pudforth, A.

- Felicia de Quoye, A.

- Warner fil. Felice, A.

Fell-dog, 500.

- Roger Feldog, W 15.

Fellmonger, 331.

Fellowe, Fellowes, 506.

- Bele le Felawe, A.

- Robert le Felawe, A.

Fellowship, 191.

- William Felliship, W 11.

Felon, 182 n.

- Henry le Felun, A.

Fenn.

- Roger del Fen, A.

- Thomas atte Fenne, B.

- Gonnilda in le Fenne, A.

Fenner, 237.

- Richard le Fenere. H.

- Ralph le Fenere, R.

Fenreve, 233.

- Adam Fenreve, A.

- Symon Fenreve, A.

Fermer (v. Farmer), 271, 192.

- Robert le Fermere, A.

- Matilda la Fermer, G.

Fermerie, 192.

- Idonia de la Fermerie, B.

- John le Fermery, H.

Fermor (v. Fermer), 192.

Feron, 283.

- Alan le Feron, A.

- Margery la Feron, B.

Ferrers, 151.

- Wydo de Ferreris, F F.

- Elizabeth de Ferreris, F F.

Ferrier, 290.

- Osbert le Ferrur, A.

- Peter le Ferrour, G.

- Colin le Ferur, A.

Ferriman, 285.

- Peter Feryman, Z.

- Richard Ferryman, Z.

Ferron(v. Feron), 283.

- Roger le Ferun, A.

Fesant (v. Pheasant), 494.

Feure, 283.

- Reginald le Feure, B.

- Thomas le Feure, M.

Feuterer (v. Fewter), 236.

- Walter le Feuterer, A.

Fever, Fevre, 283.

- Richard le Fevere, A.

- John le Fever, M.

- Torald le Fevre, J.

- Achard le Fevre, T.

Fewster (v. Fuster), 289.

- Ralph Fewster, S S.

Fewter, 236.

- Geoffrey le Wewterer, A.

- John le Vautrer, A.

- Godfrey le Futur, A.

Fidler, 308.

- Robert Fyffudlere, X.

- John Fydler, Z Z.

- Ruelard Vidulator, DD.

- Thomas le Fytheler (Lower).

- Robert Fediller, X X 1.

- John le Fytheler, A A 4.

Field, 115.

- Linota ate Feld, A.

- Thomas atte Felde, M.

Fielder, 113.

- Alice Feylder, Z Z.

- Richard Feilder, W 9.

Fierce, 464.

- Ralph le Ferc, A.

Fighter, 305.

- Richard le Fytur, A.

Filder (v. Fielder), 113.

Fillpot, 91.

- John Filpot, F.

- Roger Fylpot, F F.

Fillip, 91.

- Walter Felip, A.

- Jon fiz Felyp, DD.

- Felipp Clerk, A.

Finch, 494.

- Thomas Finch, A.

- James Fynch, H.

Fincher, 239.

- Robert le Fincher, B.

Fine-amour, 474.

- Dulcia Fynamour, v. p. 474.

Finger, 436.

- Matilda Finger, H.

Firebrace, 436.

- Robert Ferbras, M.

Firminger (v. Furminger) 278, 370.

- Andrew Firminger, Z.

- John Farmynger, Z.

Firstling, 202.

- Bartholomew Firstling (Strype).

- William Firstling, F F.

Fish, 274, 496.

- John le Fysche, Q.

- Richard Fishe, F F.

Fisher, 273, 376.

- Thomas le Fishere, B.

- Henry le Fissere, J.

- Margaret le Fischere, A.

Fisherman, 273.

- Antony Fisheman, F F.

- Andrew Fishman, F F.

Fishmonger, 334.

- William Fyshmonger, F.

Fiske, 274, 496.

- William Fyske, Q.

- Catherine Fiske, F F.

Fisker, 273.

- Robert le Fys-cer, A.

- Lawrence Fisker, E.

Fitch, 489.

- William Fitche, A.

- William Fitch, F F.

Fitchett, 489.

- John Fichet, M.

- William Fychet, H.

Fitz-amice, 13.

- Robert Fitz-amice, M.

Fitz-bennet (v. Bennet).

- John le Fitz-beneit, H.

- Alan Fitz-bennet, F F.

Fitz-clerk, 65.

- Alexander Fitz-clerk, H.

Fitz-ellis, 86.

- Robert Fitz-elis, M.

- William Fitz-elias, M.

Fitz-garret (v. Garret).

- Edward Fitz-garret, E E.

- Agnes Fitz-garret, F F.

Fitz-gerald, 13, 52.

- Gerald Fitz-gerald, M.

- Thomas Fitz-gerot, H.

Fitz-gibbon, 13.

Fitz-hamond (v. Hammond), 13, 35.

- John Fitz-hamond, D.

- Sibil Fitz-hamon, F F.

Fitz-herbert (v. Herbert), 13.

- William Fitz-herbert, Z.

- Thomas Fitz-herbert, E E.

Fitz-howard, 26.

- John Fitz-howard, W 2.

Fitz-james (v. James), 13.

- John Fitz-james, Z.

- James Fitz-james, E E.

Fitz-lettice, 71.

- Roger Fitz-lettice, H.

- John Fitz-lettice, M.

Fitz-neel, 13.

- Robert Fitz-neel, B.

- Thomas Fitz-neel, M.

Fitz-parker, 65.

- Thomas Fitz-parkere, N.

Fitz-patrick, 13.

- Thomas Fitz-patrick, M.

Fitz-payn, 13.

- Ela le Fitz-payn, H.

- Elis le Fitz-payn, M.

Fitz-peers (v. Peers), 13.

- Lucia Fitz-peers, B.

- Aveline Fitz-piers, F F.

Fitz-provost, 65.

- Simon Fitz-provost, H.

Fitz-rauf, 13.

- John Fitz-rauf, B.

- Richard Fitz-ralph, M.

Fitz-richard, 13.

- John Fitz-richard, B.

- Rauf le Fitz-richard, M.

Fitz-simon (v. Simon), 13.

- Edward le Fitz-simon, B.

- Robert Fitz-simon, M.

Fitz-water (v. Walter), 13.

- William le Fitz-water, A.

- Humfrey Fitz-wauter, B.

Fitz-warin, 13, 32.

- Ino Fitz-Waryn, B.

- Fulco Fitz-warren, C.

Fitz-william (v. William), 13.

- Jarvis Fitzwilliam, Z.

- Roger Fitz-william, F F.

Fiveashes, 129.

Fivepenny, 513.

- John Fivepeni, A.

Fivepound, 513.

- James Fyppound, X X 1.

Flanner (v. Flaoner).

- John Flanner, F F.

- John Flanner, 367 n.

Flaoner, 367.

- William le Flaoner, A.

- William le Flaoner, B.

- Roger le Flaoner, X.

Flawner (v. Flaoner), 367.

- John Flawner, X.

Flaxenhead, 447.

- Richard Flaxennehed, A.

Flaxman, 327.

- William Flexman, A.

- Ralph le Flexman, R.

Flaxwife, 327.

- Christina le Flexwyf, X.

Fleming, 163, 318.

- Ascelyn le Flemyng, A.

- Alard le Fleminge, B.

- Baldwin le Fleming, M.

- Jordan le Flemynge, J.

Fleshmonger, 374.

- William le Flesmongere, A.

- Eudo le Fleshmongere, M.

- William Fleshemongere, F.

Flesher, 374.

- Robert Flessher, W 2.

- Miles Flesher, V 5.

Fleshewer, 264.

- William Flesschewer, W 2.

- John Fleshewer, H.

Fletcher, 226.

- Henry le Fletcher, A.

- Robert le Fleccher, E.

- Adam le Fletcher, G.

Flexman (v. Flaxman), 287.

Flinthard, 416.

- Jacob Flinthard, A.

- Richard Flinthard, H.

Florence, 134.

- John de Florence, R.

Florianora.

- Florianora de Barkworth, R R 1.

Flouredieu, 511.

- John Flouredieu, F F.

Flower, 228.

- John le Floer, A.

- Nicholas le Flouer, J.

- Reginald le Flower, B.

Fluter, 312.

- Nicholas le Floutere, B.

Fly, 497.

- Maggie Flie, A.

- Oda Flie, A.

Foakes (v. Fulkes), 50.

- Foke Odell, H.

- Ralph Foke, A.

Foldyate, 130.

- John atte Foldyate, J.

Foliot, 475.

- Jordan Foliot, A.

- Richard Foliot, B.

Foljambe, 438.

- Thomas Folejamb, A.

- Richard Foljamb, M.

Folkes (v. Fulkes), 50.

Follenfant, 475.

- Hugh Folenfaunt, A.

Follet, Follit, 475.

- Margery la Folyet, M.

- Jordan Folyot, A.

Fool, 216.

- Peter le Folle, A.

- Alexander le Fol, C.

- Johannes Stultus, DD.

Foolhardy, 475, 464.

- Walter Fulhardy, X.

Foote, 437.

- Thomas Fot, A.

- Matilda Fot, A.

Forager.

- William le Forager, B.

Forcer, 400.

- Nicholas le Forcer, A.

- Henry le Forcer, B.

- John le Forcer, M.

Ford, 115.

- Peter ate Ford, M.

- Nicholas de la Forde, A.

Forester, Forrester, 230.

- Gilbert le Forester, A.

- Richard le Forester, M.

- Ivo le Forester, J.

Forster (v. Forester), 230.

- William le Forster, A.

- Henry le Forster, M.

Fort, 432.

- John le Fort, E.

- William le Fort, M.

Fortescue, 459.

- Isabella Fortescue, B.

- John Fortescu, H.

Foster (v. Forester), 230.

- Walter le Foster, J.

Founder, 392.

- William le Fonder, A.

- John le Funder, E.

Fourpeny, 513.

- Thomas Fourpeni, W 9.

Foulkes (v. Fulkes), 50.

- Fowlke Grevill, Z.

Fowkes (v. Fulkes), 50.

- Fowke de Coudrey, A.

- Fowke Crompton, Z.

Fowl, 434.

- Walter le Fowel, A.

- Nicholas le Foghele, M.

Fowler, 239.

- Warin le Fowlur, A.

- William le Fougheler, D.

- John le Fogheler, M.

Fox, 489.

- Henry le Fox, A.

- Walter le Fox, M.

Foxden, 118.

Foxley, 119.

- John de Foxlee, N N.

Francis, 159.

- Richard le Fraunceys, A.

- Gilbert le Franceys, B.

- Henry le Franceis, C.

Francom (v. Frankham), 253.

Francomb (v. Frankham), 253.

- William Francombe, Z.

Frank, 254.

- Walter le Frank, A.

- Fulco le Frank, E.

Frankham, 253.

- Robert Frankhome, G.

- Reginald le Fraunchome, A.

- Hugh Fraunch-humme, A.

Franklin, 254.

- Geoffrey le Fraunkelyn, A.

- John le Fraunkelyn, B.

- Miles le Franklein, M.

Frean (v. Freen), 154.

Freborn (v. Freeborn), 253.

Free, 253.

- Walter le Free, A.

Freebody, 253.

- Richard Freebody, C C 3.

Freebond, 254 n.

- Robert Frebond, A.

Freeborn, 253.

- Richard Frebern, A.

- Agnes Frebern, A.

- Geoffrey Frebern, V 9.

Freegift, 77.

Freeman, 253.

- John le Freman, A.

- Martin le Freman, A.

Freen, 154.

- Fulk de la Freigne, G.

- Stephen ad Fren, A.

Freer, Freere, 430, 191.

- Geoffrey le Frere, A.

- Syward le Frere, A.

Freke, 465.

- William le Frek, M.

- Henry Freke, A.

Freman (v. Freeman), 253.

Fremantel, 457.

- Richard de Fremantell, M.

- Hugh de Frigido-Mantello, E.

French, 159.

- Simon le Frensch, A.

- Eborard le Frenshe, G.

- Richard le Frensh, M.

French-baker, 363.

- Richard Frenshbaker, D.

Frenchman, 159.

- Gyllame Freynsman, W 3.

Frere (v. Freer), 161, 430.

- John le Frere, A.

- Henry le Frere, B.

Freshfish, 333 n., 512.

- John Freshfisch, H.

- Robert Freshfissh, X.

Freshherring, 512.

- Margaret Fressheharyng, X.

Frewife, 343.

- Agnes Frewife, A.

Frewoman, 253.

- Matilda Frewoman, A.

Freyne (v. Freen), 154.

- Robert le Freyne, A.

- William le Freyne, A.

Friar (v. Frere), 191.

Frick, 465.

- Ralph Frike, A.

Friday, 63.

- Simon Fridey, A.

- Thomas Fryday, B.

- Henry Friday, M.

Fridaythorp, 137.

- John de Fridaythorpe, X X 4.

Friend, 410.

- Hugh le Frend, A.

- William le Frend, R.

Frith, 117.

- Richard de la Frith, A.

- John atte Frith, F F.

Frobisher (v. Furbisher), 222.

- Peter Frobysher, Z.

- Antony Frobiser, Z Z.

Frog, 437.

- John Frog, A.

Fromabove, 77.

Front-de-beuf, 500.

- Ralph Front-de-bœuf, M.

Fruiter, 373.

- Ralph le Frueter, A.

- Peter le Fruter, E.

- Hugh le Fruter, N.

Fruitmonger, 373.

- John le Fruemonger, M.

Fry, 253.

- Walter le Frie, A.

- Roger le Frye, R.

- Thomas le Frye, T.

Frybody (v. Freebody), 253.

- Robert Frybody, Y.

Fryer (v. Frere), 159, 437.

Fulchon (v. Fulke).

- Ralph fil. Fulchon, A.

- Faulcon Pursevaunt, X X 1.

Fulke, Fulkes, 50.

- Fulk Paifrer, H.

- Fulke Paynel, A.

- Fulke le Taverner, B.

- Fulco Fitz-warin, B.

Fuller, 324.

- Grigge le Fulur, A.

- Walter le Fullere, N.

- Mathew le Fullere, M.

Fullilove, 474.

- Ralph Full-of-love, F F.

- Roger Full-of-love, F F.

Full-James, 504.

Fulman (v. Fuller), 324.

- William Fulman, v. p. 324.

Furber, 222.

- John le Furber, E.

- Alan le Fourbour, G.

Furbisher (v. Frobisher), 222.

- Thomas le Furbisur, M.

- Edmund Furbyssher, Z Z.

Furminger, 370.

- William le Formager, A.

- Ely le Furmager, O.

- Wilkin le Furmager, O.

Furner, 364.

- William le Furner, A.

- Walter le Fernier, A.

Furrier, 345.

- Richard Furryour, W 3.

Fusilier, 229 n.

- Johannes Fusilier, Y.

- Fuzelier, Y.

Fuster, 289.

- Ralph le Fuster, M.

- Robert Fuster, F.

Futter (v. Fewter), 236.

- Fulcher le Fewtrer, F F.

- Simon le Futur, A.

Fynamour, 474.

- Dulcia Fynamour, 474 n.

Gabber, 479.

- Stephen le Gabbere A.

- Gerard le Gabur, A.

Gabbot, 99.

- Anable Gabbot, A.

Gabbs, 99.

Gabcock, 99.

- William Gabecoky, A.

Gabriel, 99.

- John Gabriel, M.

- Gabriel Carye, Z.

Gadling, 479.

Gager (v. Gauger), 410.

- William le Gageour, G.

Gaicote, 459.

- William Gaicote, A.

Gaillard (v. Gayliard), 472.

Gaite, 183.

- Robert le Gait, M.

Galer (v. Gayler), 151.

Galeys, 149.

- Thomas le Galeis, E.

- Henry le Galeys, R.

Gallant.

- Thomas Galaunt, A.

- Helen Gallant, F F.

Gallard (v. Gayliard), 472.

- William Gallard, A.

Galt, 491.

- Gilbert Galt, A.

Gamaliel, 100.

- Gamaliel Capell, Z.

Gamson, 458.

- Robert Gamson, Z.

- William Gamson, Z.

Gander, 494.

- Roger Gandre, A.

- Thomas Gandre, X.

Gant

- (1), (v. Gaunt).

- Warin le Gant, A.

- John le Gant, A.

- (2), 168.

- Gilbert de Gant, J.

- Reginald de Gante, E.

Ganter (v. Gaunter), 350.

Gantlett (v. Gauntlett), 459.

Gardiner, 290.

- Amabilla la Gardiner, A.

- Thomas le Gardener, M.

Gardner (v. Gardiner), 260.

- William le Gardner, J.

- Raffe Gardner, Z.

Garlick, 485, 263.

- Robert Garlick, A.

- Sara Garlek, F F.

Garlickmonger, 263.

- John Garlekemongere, B.

- Henry le Garlekemongere, M.

- Thomas le Garlykmonger, M.

Garrett (v. Gerald), 52.

- Garrett Fitzgarrett, Z.

- Garret Hawkinson, Z.

- Garratt Jonson, v. p. 52.

Garretson (v. Gerald), 52.

- John Garredsone, Z.

- Andrew Garretson, T T.

Gascoigne, 158.

- Jacob Gascoigne, B.

- Philip le Gascoyne, T.

Gaskin (v. Gascoigne), 158.

- William Gascon, B.

- Robert Gaskyn, F.

Gate

- (1), 230.

- Adam le Gayt, B.

- Robert le Gait, M.

- (2), 102.

- Richard atte Gate, M.

- William atte Gate, M.

Gateschale, 212.

- John Gateschale, W 1.

- Percevall Gatescalle, Z Z.

Gatesden, 268.

- William de Gatesden, M.

- John de Gatesden, F F.

Gathard (v. Gaytherd), 268.

Gatherer, 263.

- Roger le Gaderer, A.

Gattard (v. Gaytherd), 268.

Gauger 411.

- Alexander le Gauger, N.

- Henry le Gaugeour, N.

- Alan Gauger, M.

Gaunt

- (1), 140.

- Simon de Gaunt, M.

- Maurice de Gaunt, C.

- (2), 432.

- Thomas le Gaunt, A.

- Juliana le Gaunt, A.

Gaunter, 350.

- John le Gaunter, N.

- Stephen le Gaunter, M.

- Geoffrey le Ganter, A.

Gauntlett, 459.

- Kenry Gauntelett, Z.

- Roger Gauntlet, Z.

Gawthorpe, 137.

Gay, 463.

- Robert le Gay, A.

- William le Gay, R.

Gayler, 181.

- Richard le Gayeler, A.

- John le Gaoler, B.

Gayliard, Gaylord, 472.

- Sabina Gaylard, H.

- Nicholas Gaylard, T.

Gayt (v. Gate), 268.

- Adam le Gayt, B.

Gaytherd, 268.

- Roland Gateard, W 9.

- Robert Gatherd, W 9.

Gedling, 479.

Geldard, Geldart, 268.

- John Gildderd, W 11.

- John Geldert, W 2.

Genese, 161.

Geneve, 168.

- Nicholas de Geneve, O.

- Walter de Jeneve, R.

Gent (v. Gant, 2), 168.

- Alicia Gent, A.

- Judæus Gent, E.

Gentilcorps, 508.

- William Gentilcorps, M.

- Richard Gentylcors, X.

Gentilhomme (v. Gentleman), 467.

- Thomas Gentilhomme, H.

Gentle, 464.

- Robert le Gentill, A.

- William le Gentil, M.

- John Jentill, V 11.

Gentleman, 467.

- Robert Gentilman, V.

- Nicholas Gentilman, A.

- William Gentilman, V 11.

Geoffrey (v. Godfrey), 18.

- Geoffrye Gerard, A.

- Geoffrey de Grenville, A.

Gerard, 52.

Gerald, 52.

- Warin fil. Gerold, A.

- Margaret fil. Geraldi, J.

Gerish, 476.

- William le Geriss, A.

- John le Gerisse, A.

Gerrish (v. Gerish), 476.

- Umfrey le Gerische, A.

Gervase.

- William fil. Gervasii, A.

- Gervase fil. Hamo, C.

Geyt, 183.

- Hugh le Geyt, A.

- Robert le Geyt, M.

Gibb, Gibbs, 58.

- Thomas Gybbys, X X 1.

- Adam Gibbe, M.

- Robert Gybbys, F F.

- Gybby Selby.

Gibbins, 59.

- John Gybbyn, Z.

- John Gybbyns, Z Z.

Gibbons, 59.

- John Giboun, M.

- Robert Gybbon, H.

Gibbonson, 59.

- John Gibbonson, F.

Gibelot, 480.

- Dera Gibelot, A.

- John Gibbelote, W 2.

Gibson, 59.

- Thomas Gibson, F.

- Cicell Gibson, W 9.

- Perseval Gybson, W 11.

- Robert Gybbyson, W 11.

Giddyhead, 480.

- William Gidyheued, X.

Giggler.

- Robert le Giglere, A.

- Peter le Gigelore, A.

Gigur, 311.

- Walter le Gigur, A.

- Alexander le Gigur, T.

- Bigelot le Gigur, DD.

Gilbert, 18, 58.

- Warin fil. Gilbert, DD.

- Gilbert de Gaunt, T.

Gilbertson, 58.

- William fil. Gilbert, A.

- Henry fil. Gilbert, M.

Gilcock (v. Giles), 56.

- Cecilia Gilkoc, A.

Gildensleeve, 404.

- Roger Gyldenesleve, A.

Gilder, 251.

- Ralph le Gilder, X.

Giles, 56.

- Gile Deacon, A.

- Jordan fil. Egidius, A.

Gill, 73.

- Richard fil. Gille, A.

- Gille Hulle, A.

Gillian (v. Julia), 73.

- Gillian Cook, A.

- Gilian de la Mill, A.

Gillett, Gillot, Gillott, 74.

- Guillot le Balister, E.

- Gilot le Heauberger, X.

- Gillot Carrel, B B.

- Gwillottus Clerk, C.

Gilpin, 58.

- Gilbert Gilpyn, H.

Gilson, 74.

- Robert fil. Gyle, A.

- Thomas Gylson, F.

- William Gelson, W 18.

Giltspur, 409.

- Agnes Giltspur, F F.

- Jeffrey Giltspur, F F.

Ginger, 485.

- Godfrey Gingivre, M.

- Agnes Gyngyvere, X.

Ginn, 230.

- Alexander Gin, A.

Ginner (v. Jenner), 229.

- Hugh le Ginnur, M.

- William le Ginnur, A.

- John Ginour, M.

Gipps (v. Gibbs), 59.

Girdler, 348.

- Adam le Gurdlere, A.

- Robert le Girdlere, M.

- Simon le Gerdlere, H.

Gladcheer, 472.

- William Gladchere, F F.

Gladstone (v. Gledstane), 493.

Glaisher (v. Glaizer), 277.

Glassman, 277.

- John Glassman, W 9.

- Robert Glasman, W 9.

Glasswright, 277.

- Nicholas le Glaswryght, X.

- Thomas le Glaswryghte, X.

- Walter Glasenwryght, W 11.

Glazier, 277.

- William Glascer, Z.

- Robert Glazier, Z.

Gledhill, 493.

Gledstane, 493.

- William de Gledstanys, W 1

Gleed (v. Glide), 493.

- Simon Glyde, B.

Gleeman, Gleman, Glemman, 313.

Glide, 493.

- Henry le Glide, M.

- Adam le Glide, M.

Glorious.

- Robert le Glorius, E.

Glossycheek, 433.

- Bertholomew Gloscheke, A.

Glover, 350.

- Richard le Glovere, A.

- Ivo le Glover, M.

- Christiana la Glovere, H.

Glutton.

- Gilbert Glutun, L.

Gnat, 498.

- Margaret Gnatte, A.

- William Gnatte, A.

Goat

- (1), 486.

- Simon le Got, A.

- William le Got, A.

- (2), 486.

- John atte Gote, M.

- John de la Gote, W 2.

Goathirst, 116.

- Simon de Gotehirst, A.

Goatman, 271.

- Nicholas Goteman, W 11.

Go-be-fore, 461.

- Robert Gobefore, H.

God-beer (v. Goodbeer) 511.

Godbert, 22.

- Roger Godberd, A.

- Roger Godeberd, J.

Godblod, 511.

- Roger Godblod, E.

Godbold, 22.

- Godebold, J.

- Alice Godbolde, Z.

Goddard, 17, 22.

- John fil. Godard, A.

- Goddard Freebodye, Z.

Godfrey, 21.

- John fil. Godfrey, C.

- Alen Godefrai, M.

Godin (v. Godwin), 21.

- Godin de Bere, A.

- Godun le Bere, A.

Godman, 22.

- Herbert fil. Godman, C.

Godmefetch (v. Lower’s Dic.) 511.

Godrich, 22.

- William Godrick, H.

- Robert fil. Godric, J.

Godsall, 511, 22.

- Cecilia Godsol, A.

Godsalve, 510.

- Thomas Godsalfe, W 9.

- Barbara Godsalve, F F.

Godsave (v. Godsalve), 510.

God-send-us, 511.

- Jennett God-send-us, W 13.

Godshall (v. Godsall), 22.

Godsname, 510.

- Richard Godesname X.

Godson (v. Goodson), 507.

- Ralph fil. Godde, A.

- William fil. Gotte, A.

- Amisius Godeson, M.

Godthank, 512.

- William Godthanke, A.

Godwin, 17, 21.

- Hugh fil. Godewin, A.

- Godwin de Dovre, C.

- Godun le Bere, A.

Go-in-the-Wind, 388.

- John Go-in-the-Wynd, X.

Goldbeater, 399.

- Robert le Goldbeter, A.

- Bartholomew le Goldbetter, C.

Goldenhead, 447.

- Richard Goldenheved, C C 1.

Goldfinch, 494.

- Agnes Goldfinche, A.

- William Goldfynch, B.

Goldhose, 404.

- Richard Goldhose, A.

Goldsmith, 281, 399.

- Hervey le Goldsmith, M.

- Robert le Goldsmyth, M.

Goldspink, 494.

Golightly, 439.

- Roger Galichtley, M.

- James Golyghtlye, W 9.

Gooch, 24.

- John fil. Guch, A.

- Roger Guch, A.

- Evan ap Gouch, M.

Good, 463.

- Hugh Godde, A.

- Roger Godde, M.

Goodacre, 134.

Goodalehouse, 501.

- Joan Good-ale-house, W 2.

Goodbarn.

- Christopher Goodbarne, W 13.

Goodbeer, 511.

- Richard Godbeare, Z.

Goodbehere (v. Goodbeer), 511.

Goodbody, 506.

- Alicia Godbodi, A.

Goodchild, 506.

- Ralph Godchild A.

- John Godchyld, M.

Goodclerk, 505.

- Henry Goodclerk, X X 1.

Goodenough.

- John Godynogh, G.

- William Godyinogh, M.

Goodfellow, 506.

- John Goodefelagh, O.

- Thomas Godfelawe, H.

Goodfowl, 506.

- Agnes Godefouele, A.

- Basilia Godfowele, A.

Goodgift, 103.

- Goodgift Gynnings, 103.

Goodgroom, 505.

- Robert le Godegrom, A.

- John Godgrom, H.

Goodhart, 463.

- Alexander Godherte, E.

- Walter Godherte, E.

Goodherring, 499.

- Adam Godharing, A.

Goodhugh, 504.

- John Godhug, A.

- Hugh Godhewe, M.

- William Godhugh, M.

Goodhusband, 505.

- Agnes Godhusbonde, A.

- Nicholas Godhosbonde, A.

Goodhyne, 505.

- Alexander Godhine, A.

- John Godhyne, M.

Goodier, 22.

- William Godier, M.

- Joan Goodyere, W 2.

Goodknave, 505.

- Geoffrey Godeknave, A.

- Gilbert Godknave, B.

- William Goodknave, D.

Goodlake, 22.

- Guthlake Folyot, Z.

Goodlove, 474.

- William Godelove, M.

Goodluck (v. Goodlake), 22.

Goodman

- (1), 506.

- Henry le Godman, A.

- (2),

- Herbert fil. Godman, C.

Goodmother.

- William Godmoder, A.

Goodnurse, 506.

- William Godenurs, A.

Goodrich (v. Goderich), 22.

- Walter Goderiche, A.

- Richard Gooderick, Z.

Goodrobert, 504.

- Robert Goderoberd, P.

Goodson, 507.

- Emma fil. Gode, A.

- William Godeson, A.

- John Godesone, A.

Goodspeed, 512.

- Ralph Godisped, A.

Goodswain, 505.

- Henry Godeseweyn, A.

- John Godsweyn, A.

- John Godesweyn, M.

Goodwayt, 506.

- Roger Godweyt, A.

Goodwife, 507.

- William Goodwyfe, 507 n.

Goodwin, 21.

- William Godewyn, A.

- Thomas Godwine, M.

Goodwright, 278.

Goodyear (v. Goodier), 22.

Goose (v. Goss), 494.

- John le Goos, M.

- Peter le Goos, F F.

- Walter le Gows, A.

Goosebeak, 500.

- Mariota Gosebeck, A.

Gooseherd, 267.

- Joan Gushyrde, W 11.

- Agnes Gusehyrd, W 11.

- John Gooshewed, W 19.

Gore, 130.

- Robert atte Gore, A.

- Thomas de la Gore, R.

Goreway, 130.

- William ad le Goreway, A.

Goshawk, 493.

- William Goshawke, F F.

Gosling (v. Joscelyn), 494.

- Goscelina fil. Gawyn, A.

- Roger fil. Gocelin, A.

Goss (v. Goose), 494.

- Amicia le Gos, J.

- John le Gos, M.

Gotobed (v. Godbert), 22.

- Johannes Go-to-bedde, R R 1.

- John Gotebedde, A.

- Henry Gotobed, Z.

Gotokirk, 501.

- Serle Gotokirke, A.

Gottard (v. Goddard), 267.

Gottschalk, 212, 22.

- Godeschalke de Estlaund, A.

- Godefry fil. Godescallus, C.

- Godeskalcus Armorer, W 2

Gouty, 441.

- John Gouty, V.

Grace, 103, 432.

- Grace Clayton, W 14.

- Grace Prest, W 16.

Gracedieu, 511.

- ‘Mr. Gracedieu,’ v. 511 n.

Gramary, 197.

- Andrew le Gramary, G.

- William Grammary, M.

Grammar, Grammer, 197.

- Andrew le Gramayre, A.

- Richard le Gramayre, G.

- William Grammaticus, J.

Grand (v. Grant), 432

Grange, 134.

- Jordan de la Grange, A.

- William de la Grange, M.

Grangeman, 135.

- John Grangeman, Z.

Granger, 134.

- Richard le Granger, A.

- John le Graunger, G.

Grant, 432.

- Richard le Grant, C.

- Walter le Grant, M.

Granville (v. Grenville), 151.

Graper, 374.

- Agnes Graper, B.

- Richard le Graper, H.

Grass, 432.

- Ralph le Gras, B.

- Walter le Gras, G.

- Amabel le Gras, M.

Graunt, 432.

- Jurdan le Graunt, A.

- Richard le Graunt, M.

Grave, 464.

Graver, 120.

- Thomas Graver, Z.

Graves, 120.

- Sibilla de le Grave, B.

- Robert atte Grave, M.

Graveshend, 114.

- Richard de la Graveshend, A.

- Stephen de Graveshende, B.

Gray (v. Grey)

- (1), 395.

- William le Gray, O.

- Nicholas le Gray, A.

- (2).

- Norman de Gray, A.

Graycock (v. Grayson).

- Peter Graycocke, W 16.

- Francis Graycocke, W 16.

Grayson (v. Grierson).

- Mary Grayson, W 16.

Great.

- William le Grete, M.

- Hugh le Gret, R.

Greathand.

- John Greathand, M.

Greathead, 435.

- Thomas Gretehed, H.

- Agnes Greatheved, R.

Greaves (v. Graves), 120.

Greavesend (v. Graveshend), 114.

Green, 131.

- Deonisia ate Grene, A.

- Warin de la Grene, A.

Greenett (v. Green).

- Simon atte Grenette, B.

Greenhead, 447.

- Richard Greenhead, W 2.

Greenhorn, 470.

- Christopher Greynhorne, W 15.

Greenkirtle, 458.

- John Grenecurtel, F F.

Greenman, 456.

Greenslade, 121.

- Robert de Greneslade, K.

- Antony Greneslade, Z.

Greensmith, 281.

- Henry Greensmith, Z.

- Edward Greensmith, F F.

- Richard Grensmythe, Z.

Greeves, 120.

Greg, Gregg, (v. Gregory).

- Simon fil. Greg, A.

- Robert Grege, A.

Gregory.

- Peter Gregory, A.

- Richard fil. Gregorii A.

- Gregory Washer, V 3.

Gregson (v. Greg).

- William fil. Greg, A.

- Robert Gregson, W 11.

Grenville, 151.

- Richard de Grenville, A.

- Matilda de Grenewille, A.

Grey (v. Gray)

- (1).

- Reginald de Grey, R.

- William de Grey, R.

- (2), 445.

- John le Grey, A.

- Adam le Grey, G.

Greybeard, 449.

- Richard Greyberd, A.

Greygoose, 404.

Greyling, 497.

- Gilbert Greyling, R.

Greyshank, 438.

- Gilbert Greyschanke, A.

Grierson (v. Gregson).

Grice, 445.

- John le Gris, A.

- Thomas le Grise, M.

Grieve, 233.

- Thomas le Greyve, A.

Grieveson, 65.

- John Greveson, W 9.

- William Greffeson, S S.

Grig, Grigg, (v. Greg).

- Richard fil. Grigge, A.

- Grigge le Fulur, A.

- Serle Grigg, A.

Grinchetyl, 25.

- Grinchetyl, Q.

- Grimkettle, F F.

- Grinketel, v. p. 25 n.

Grimkelson.

- Onty Grimkelson (Lower).

Grinder.

- Stephen le Grindar, A.

- Ralph Grindour, C.

Grinkle (v. Grinchetyl), 22.

Grisdale, 491.

- Thomas Grisedale, W 4.

- John Grysdale, W 16.

Grise (v. Grice), 491.

- William le Gryse, Z.

Griselwhite. 445.

- Annie Griselwhite, F F.

Grissel, 445.

- John Grissel, Z.

Griswood, 491.

Groome, 505.

- Seman le Grom, A.

- Simon le Grom, H.

Grose, 432.

- John le Gros, B.

- Bertram le Gros, E.

- Hugh le Gros, G.

Groser, 370.

Grosjean, 46, 503.

Grosser, 370.

Grossmith, 505.

Grosted, Grostete, 435.

- Richard Grostete, A.

- Peter Grossetest, W 4.

- Robert Groteste, X.

Grosvenur.

- Robert le Grovenur, J.

- Robert le Grosvenur, T.

Grote.

- Roger le Grote, A.

- William Grote, A.

Grover, 120.

Groves, 120.

- William atte Grove, M.

Guard.

- Robert le Gard, F F.

Guarin, Guerin, (v. Waring), 32.

- Guarinus de Chauncy, E.

- Guarinus Banastre, C.

- Ivo fil. Guarin, C.

Gull, 494.

- Hugh le Gul, A.

- Clement le Gul, A.

Gunn

- (1),

- Matilda fil. Gunne, A.

- Roger Gunne, J.

- (2), 230.

Gunner (v. Ginner), 229.

Gunson (v. Gunn, 1).

- Richard fil. Gunne, R.

- Eustace Gunson, A.

Gunter (v. Gaunter), 309.

- Roger Gunter, B.

- John Gunter, Z.

Gurney.

- Hugh de Gurnay, A.

- Anselm de Gurney, A.

Guster, 214.

- Robert le Gustur, T.

Guthlac, 17.

Guy, 36.

- Guy de Boys, H.

- Imbert fil. Guido, T.

Guyatt, Guyot,(v. Guy), 36.

- Aleyn Gyot, H.

Habbakuk, 100.

- Abacucke Harman, Z.

Haberdasher, 343.

- Richard le Haberdasher, P.

Hacker, 264.

- Adam le Hacker, E.

- Richard Hacker, F.

Hackman, 264.

- Thomas Hakeman, A.

- Joan Hakeman, F F.

Hadwin (v. Hardwin), 27.

Haig, Haigh, 133.

- Robert atte Haghe, F F.

- Richard atte Haghe, F F.

Hairproud, 453.

- Richard le Herprute, A.

Half-Knight, 199.

- Geoffrey Halve Knit, A.

- Nicholas Halve-Knight A.

Halfpeny, 482.

- William Halpeni, A.

- Walter Halpeni, A.

Halfnaked, 431.

- Adam de Halnaked, M.

- Adam de Halfenaked, H.

Hale, 136, 154.

- Pagan de la Hale, A.

- Thomas ate Hale, M.

Halket, 51.

Hall, 136, 154.

- Walter de la Halle, A.

- John atte Halle, B.

Hallett, 51.

- Matthew Halyet, F F.

- Nathaniel Hallyet, F F.

Halliday, 64.

- Gerard Haliday, A.

- Alan Halyday, H.

Halse, 385.

- John Halse, H.

- Andrew Halse, W 9.

- John Hals, X X 1.

Halstaff, 462.

- Anthony Halstaffe, 462.

Hamlet (v. Hamnett), 16, 35.

- Hamlet Ashton, A A 1.

- Hamelet de la Burste, N N.

- Richard fil Hamelot, A A 2.

Hamlyn 35.

- Hamelyn de Trap, H.

- Hamalin Prepositus, C.

- Osbert Hamelyn, M.

Hammer, 144.

Hammett (v. Hamnett), 35.

Hammond, 35.

- Hamund le Mestre, A.

- Hamond Cobeler, H.

- John Fitzhamond, D.

Hamnett (v. Hamlet), 35.

- Hamnet, Stockley, A A 1.

- Humfrey Hamnett, A A 1.

- Hamnet Sadler, v. p. 35.

- Hampnet Clegge, X X 1.

Hamo, Hamon, Hamond, (v. Hammond), 35.

- Hamo le Bret, A.

- Hamo le Bard, A.

- Hamo fil. Ricardi, M.

Hamondson (v. Hampson), 35.

- Alice Hamundson, W 2.

- John Hawmundson, W 11.

Hamper, 388.

- Geoffrey le Hanaper, A.

- John Hanaper, A.

Hampermaker, 388.

- William Hampermaker, H.

- Walter Hampermaker, R R 3.

Hampshire, 147.

- John Hamshire, A.

Hampson, 35.

- Nicholas fil. Hamon, J.

- Hamo fil. Hamonis, C.

- William Hamneson, Z Z.

- John Hamson, V 5.

Hamsher (v. Hampshire), 120.

Hancock (v. Handcock) 46.

Hand, 436.

- Richard Hand, A.

- Thomas Hande, A.

Handcock, 46.

- Hanecock Birun, A.

- John Hancock, O.

Handless, 441.

- John Handelesse, W 11.

Handshaker, 501.

- William Hondeshakere, M.

Handsomebody, 508.

Hanker, 196.

- John le Haneker, A.

- William Hanekare, A.

Hankins, 46.

- Hancken de Fine, E.

- Hanekyn Jocelyn, N.

- Hankyn Maynwaryng, H.

Hankinson, 46.

- Garrett Hankinson, Z.

- Randolph Hankynson, Z Z.

Hannah (v. Hannay), 164.

Hannant, 164.

Hannay, 136.

- John de Henau, C.

- William Hannay, H.

Hans, 45.

- Hans Berner, O.

- Hans Doubler, O.

Hansard, 165.

Hanson, 46.

- Roger Hanson, F.

- Richard Hanson, W 2.

- Barnby Hanson, V 4.

Hanway (v. Hannay), 164.

Harber, 291.

- William le Harbeiour, B.

- William le Herber, E.

- Richard le Hareber, N.

Harbinger, 219, 291.

Harbour (v. Harber), 291.

Harcourt, 151.

- Saer de Harecurt, A.

- Alicia de Harecurt, K.

Hardcorse.

- Simon Hardcorse, F.

Harden, 118.

- Richard de Harden, B.

- William de Harden, C.

Hardfish.

- Richard Hardfysshe, F F.

- John Hardfish, F F.

Hardgripe.

- Robert Hardgripe, M M.

Hardhead, 435, 447.

- Robert Hardheved, A.

- Simon Hardheved, T.

Harding, 27.

- Maurice fil. Harding, E.

- Harding Faber (Lower).

- William fil. Harding, M M.

Hardman, 464.

- John Hardiman, 494 n.

Hardwareman, 296.

- Lambert Hardwareman, W 11.

Hardwin, 27.

Hardy, 464.

- Thomas Hardi, A.

- Richard Hardy, M.

Hare, 488.

- Geoffrey le Hare, B.

- John le Hare, M.

Harebrown, 448.

- William Harebrown, F F.

Harefoot, 439.

Harengot, 497.

- Stephen Harengot, DD.

Harfagre, 5.

Hargreaves, 120.

- John de Haregrave, A.

- John de Hargreve, C.

Harley, 119.

- Roger de Harlege, A.

- Richard de Harleg, A.

Harlot.

- John Harlot, K.

- John le Harlet, A.

Harman (v. Herman), 26.

- Cecilia Hereman, A.

- Herman de Francia, C.

Harmanson (v. Harman), 27.

- Walter Hermanson, O.

- John Urmynson, W 11.

Harmer (v. Hermer), 27.

- Robert fil. Hermer, C.

- Hopkins Harmar, Z.

Harold, 5, 19.

- Gilbert fil. Harold, J.

- Harold fil Roberti, J.

Harper, Harpour, Harpur, 310.

- Ralph le Harpur, A.

- Gilbert le Harpour, B.

- Hugh le Harper, M.

Harpmaker, 309.

- Robert Harpmaker, 309 n.

Harriet, 51.

- Heriot Heringflet, F F.

- Thomas Haryette, G.

- William Haryott, F.

Harriman, 506.

- John Harriman, P P.

Harriot (v. Harriet), 51.

Harris, 51.

- John Harryes, H.

- Ezekias Harrys, F F.

Harrison, 51.

- Henricus fil. Henry, C.

- George Herrison, W 9.

- Reginald Herryesson, F F.

Harrold (v. Harold), 5, 19.

- James Harrold, F F.

Hart, 488.

- Hobart le Hart, F F.

- Richard le Hert, M.

Hartley, 119.

- Richard de Hertleye, A.

- Robert Harteley, Z.

Hartman, 235.

Hartop, Hartrop, 137.

- John Hartop, F F.

- Elizabeth Hartopp, F F.

Harvard, 26.

Harvey, Harvie, 28.

- Eustace fil. Hervei, A.

- Herveus le Gos, A.

- William fil. Hervei, E.

Haseler (v. Hastiler), 207.

Hasell, 54.

- Oliver de Hassell, A.

- William de Hasele, A.

Hasler (v. Hastiler), 207.

Haster (v. Hastler), 174.

- Philip le Haster, A.

- John Haster, W 9.

Hastiler, Hastler, 207.

- Thurstan le Hastiler, E.

- William Hastiler, M.

- Henry le Hastelier, R R.

- John Hastler, V 10.

Hatch, 130.

- Richard de la Hache, A.

- Philip atte Hache, M.

Hatcher, 130.

Hatchman, 130.

- Roger Hatchman, Z.

Hatechrist.

- William Hatecrist, K.

Hatewrong, 500.

- Henry Hatewrong, B.

Hatmaker, 337.

- William Hatmaker, H.

Hatt, 144.

- Thomas del Hat, A.

- John atte Hatte, R.

Hatter, 144, 337.

- Henry le Hatter, A.

- Robert le Hattare, M.

Hauberger, 222.

- Gilbert le Hauberger, B.

- John le Haubergere, N.

Haughton, 133.

- John de Houghtone, X.

- Thomas Haughton, Z.

Havercake, 367.

- Matilda Havercake, A.

Haverpenny, 428.

- William Haverpenny, F F.

Haward (v. Hayward), 234.

- William Haward, M.

- Piers le Hawarde, H.

Hawes, 133.

- Peter in le Hawe, A.

- John de la Hawe, A.

Hawke, 493.

Hawker, 294.

- John le Haucker, A.

- Simon le Hauckere, B.

- John le Haukere, M.

Hawkhurst, 116.

Hawkins, 51.

- Haukin de Hauvill, R.

- Haukyn Mayne, H.

- Haukyn Ferers, O.

Hawkinson, 51.

Hawkstone, 493.

- Roger de Haukestane, A.

Hawley, 133.

- John Hauley, Z.

Hawman (v. Hayman).

- Thomas Hawman, W 11.

Haworth, 133.

Hawthornthwaite, 121.

Hawton (v. Haughton), 133.

- Hugh de Hawtone, A.

- Henry Hawton, Z.

Hay, 133.

- Anna de la Hay, B.

- John de la Hay, M.

Haycraft, 132.

- Hugh de la Heycroft, A.

- William a la Heycrofte, A.

Haye, Hayes, 133.

- Stephen de la Haye, A.

- Cecilia de la Haye, B.

- William atte Haye, J.

Hayland, 133.

- Thomas de Heyelonde, A.

- Richard de Haulaund, E.

Hayley, 133.

- Eborard de Heyle, A.

- Gavin de Haule, E.

Hayman, 234.

- Peter Hayman, F.

- Ralph le Hayman, Z.

Haymon (v. Haymon), 35.

Haymonger, 275.

- Walter le Heymongere, G.

Hayward, 234.

- Adam le Hayward, A.

- Richard le Hayward, B.

- Nicholas le Hayward, M.

Haywood, 133.

- William de Haywode, M.

- Isabell Heywode, A.

Hazleholt.

- Simon de Hasleholt, G.

Hazlehurst, 116.

- William de Haselhurst, R.

Head

- (1), 434.

- William Heved, M.

- (2), 434.

- Thomas del Heved, A.

Heard (v. Herd), 266.

- William Hearde, Z.

Hearne

- (1), 130.

- Thomas ate Hurne, A.

- Henry en le Hurne, A.

- (2), 494.

- Henry le Herne, A.

Heath, 126.

- William atte Hethe, B.

- Nicholas atte Hethe, M.

- John de la Hethe, A.

Heavy, 431.

Hedge (v. Hedges).

Hedger, 258.

Hedges.

- Geoffrey atte Hegge, M.

- John atte Hegge, M.

Hedgman, 258.

- Alan Hagheman, A.

Hefferman, 271.

Heir (v. Eyre), 169.

- Richard le Heir, M.

Helder, 358.

- Christiana le Heldere, A.

Hell (v. Hill), 122.

- Roger de la Helle, A.

- Alexander atte Helle, H.

Hell-cat, 501.

- Anna Hellicat, W 20.

Hellier, 247.

- Robert le Helliere, A.

- Thomas Hellier, Z.

Hellman, 247.

- William Heleman, A.

Hellus, 131.

- Nicholas del Hellus, A.

Hellyer (v. Hellier), 247.

- John Hellyer, Z.

Helman (v. Hellman), 247.

Henchman, 215.

- Henry Henchman, Z.

- Joseph Henchman, F F.

Hendiman, 468.

- William Hendiman, A.

- William Hendeman, M.

Hendy, 468.

- Thomas le Hendy, F F.

- John le Hendy, F F.

Henman (v. Henchman), 180.

- John Henman, F F.

- William Henman, F F.

Henn, 494.

- Coleman le Henn, A.

- Thomas le Henn, A.

Henriot (v. Henry), 51.

- Alicia Henriot, W 2.

- Robert Henriot, W 2.

Henry, 51.

- Henry fil. Isolda, T.

- Henry fil. Justina, T.

Henryson, 51.

- William Henryesson, G.

- Catherine Henryson, W 2.

Henshall, Henshaw, 117.

- Benjamin Henshaw, V 5.

- Joseph Henshaw, F F.

- William Hanshaw, H.

Hensman (v. Henchman), 215.

Henty (v. Hendy), 468.

Herald, Heraud, 218.

- Main le Heralt, B.

- Roger Herald, F F.

Herberer (v. Harber), 291.

- Roger le Herberer, O.

Herberger, 219, 291.

- Herbert le Herberjur, E.

Herbert.

- Herbert le Francis, E.

- Gilbert Hereberd, A.

Herd, 266.

- John le Hirde, A.

- Roger le Herde, M.

- Alice le Herde, H.

Herdler, 258.

- Gilbert le Herdlere, A.

Herdman, 228.

- William le Herdeman, B.

- Martin Herdman, A.

Herdson, 65.

- Henry Herdson, F F.

- James Hirdson, Z Z.

Hereward, 26.

- Emma Hereward, A.

- Howel ap Herewarde, M.

Herman, 27.

- Herman de Alemannia, G.

- Alan Herman, M.

Hermer (v. Harmer), 27.

Hermit, 196.

- Gerard Heremite, A.

- Silvester le Hermite, B.

Hermitage (v. Armitage), 196.

Heron, 494.

- Robert Heyron, A.

- William Heron, B.

Herring, 497.

- Robert Heryng, A.

- Reymund Heryng, M.

Herringer, 377.

- Thomas le Haringer, E.

- Richard le Harenger, A.

Herringbreeder, 377.

- Symon Haryngbreeder, A.

Herriot (v. Harriot).

- William Heryot, X X 1.

Heth, 126.

- Matilda atte Heth, A.

- John del Heth, J.

Hewe (v. Hugh), 60.

- Hew Heryson, F F.

- Hewe Hare, Z.

- Hewe Whythede, W 12.

Hewer, 264.

- Walter le Howere, A.

- Ralph le Heuer, B.

- Benedict le Huwere, A.

Hewet, 16, 60.

- Robert Hughet, M.

- John Hewette, H.

Hewetson, 16, 60.

- William Heuetson, W 8.

- Elizabeth Hewetson, Z.

- John Hewetson, W 16.

- John Huetson, W 12.

Hewlett, 16, 60.

- Walter Hughelot, A.

- William Hughlot, N.

- John Huelot, A.

- Houlot de Rancheste, A A 4.

Hewson, 60.

- Jordan fil. Hugh, A.

- John Hewisson, Z.

- Eliz. Hewson, W 16.

Hewster, 264.

- Richard le Hewster (v. p. 264 n.).

Heyward, 234.

- Elwin le Heward, A.

- Henry le Heyward, B.

- William le Heyward, M.

Heywood (v. Haywood), 133.

Hicks, 82.

- Geoffrey fil. Hicke, A.

- Baptist Hickes, Z.

- Thomas Hix, Z.

Hickson, 82.

- John Hixson, F.

- William Hikson, W 3.

- Nicholas Hichesone, P P.

Higgett (v. Higgott), 82.

Higgins, 82.

- John Hyggyns, F.

- Edward Hyggons, F.

- William Higons, H.

Higginson, 82.

- Thomas Hyggenson, W 9.

- Robert Higynson, Z Z.

Higgott, 82.

- George Higgott, 82 n.

Higgs, 82.

- George Higges, F.

- Thomas Higges, Z.

High, 431.

- Robert le Heye, A.

- Robert le Hey, M.

Higson, 82.

- Peter Higson, Z.

Hill, 122.

- Geoffrey del Hil, A.

- John at Hil, M.

Hillary, 71.

- Hillary Constabularius, A.

- Illaria Purcel, T.

- Hillaria la Waleyse, A.

Hillier (v. Hellier), 247.

Hillyer (v. Hellier), 247.

Hind, 255.

- Francis Hind, Z.

- John Hynd, Z Z.

Hinde, 255.

- Mildred Hynde, Z.

- Lawrence Hynde, Z Z.

Hindley, 119.

- Hugh Hyndeley, Z Z.

- John Hyndley, Z Z.

Hindman, 235.

- Richard Hindman, Z.

Hindshaw, 117.

Hindson, 65 n.

- Jenet Hyndsone, A A 4.

Hine, 255.

- Stephen le Hine, M.

- John le Hyne, A.

Hinxman (v. Henchman), 215.

- William Hinxman, Z.

- Joseph Hinxman, Z.

Hiredman.

- Thomas Hiredman, R R 1.

Hirst, 116.

- Simon de la Hirst, A.

- John de Herst, E.

Hitchcock, 40.

- Higecok de Trent, X.

- Hichecok Bedell, A.

- William Hychcok, W 3.

Hitchcox, 40.

Hitchins, 40.

- William Hychyns, F.

Hitchinson, 40.

- David Henchenesson, F F.

Hithereve (John le Huthereve, n.), 233.

Hoarder, 211.

- Richard le Hordere, A.

- Adam le Horder, H.

- John le Hordere, R.

Hoare (v. Hore), 444.

- Adam le Hore, A.

Hob (v. Hobbs), 39.

Hobbins, 39.

- Hobbyn, F F.

Hobbler, 200.

Hobbs, 39.

- Obbe Dudeman, E.

- Hobbe fil. Ralph, DD.

- Hobbe the Werewede, C.

Hobday, 64.

- Richard Hobday, Z.

Hobelot, 16, 39.

- Constance Hobelot, A.

Hobkins (v. Hopkins), 39.

- Nicholas Hobekyn, A.

- Roger Hobekyn, A.

Hobjohn, 503.

- John Hobjohn, Z.

Hobler, 200.

Hobman, 506.

- John Hobman, V 5.

Hobson, 39.

- William Hobson, F.

- Thomas Hobbessone, H.

Hockday, Hockerday, 64.

- John Hockeday, Z.

Hodder, 294.

- Godewyn le Hodere, N.

- John le Hottere, X.

Hodges (v. Roger), 40.

- William Hodgys, F.

- Robert Hodge, H.

Hodgkins (v. Roger), 40.

- John Hogekyn, H.

- Charles Hodgskines, Z.

Hodgkinson (v. Roger), 40.

- John Hoddeskynson, Z Z.

- Robert Hodgekynson, F.

Hodgman, 506.

- Nicholas Hodgman, v. p. 506.

Hodgson, Hodson, (v. Roger), 40.

- John Hoggeson, F.

- Richard Hodggessone, H.

- Evan Hodson, Z Z.

Hoel (v. Howell), 13.

- Hoel fil. Philip, C.

- Isabel Hoel, Z Z.

Hogg

- (1), 485.

- Richard del Hog, M.

- (2), 491.

- Alice le Hog, A.

- Philip le Hog, A.

Hoggart, 267.

- Nicholas Hogherde, F.

- Margaret Hoggard, F.

- John Hogerd, W 11.

Hogman, 270.

- John Hogeman, A.

Hogsflesh, 499.

- Margery Hoggesflesh, Z.

- William Hoggesflesh, Z.

Hogshaw, 117.

- Emelina de Hogshawe, 117 n.

Hointer, 386, 263.

- Michel le Hointer, A.

Holder, 358.

- Robert le Holdere, A.

Holland, 164.

- Thurstan de Holland, M.

- John de Holland, H.

Hollandman, 164.

- William Holandman, W 8.

Holleyman, 113.

- William Holyman, A.

- Richard Hollyman, Z.

Holliday, 64.

- Leonard Hollidaie, Z.

- Ralph Holiday, F F.

Hollier, 113.

- William Holyer, F F.

Holman, 122.

- Digorie Holman, Z.

Holme, 115.

- Joscelyn de Holme, A.

- Robert del Holm, R.

Holmer, 122.

Holmes (v. Holme), 122, 115

Holt, 116.

- Henry de la Holte, A.

- Ralph atte Holt, M.

- William del Holt, A.

Holtman (v. Holt), 116.

- John Holtman, H.

- Thomas Holtman, F F.

Holroyd, 120.

- Richard Oldroyd, W 16.

Holy-bread, 367.

- John Stokes, alias Holibread.

Holy-peter, 504.

- William Halupetir, A.

Holy-water-clerk, 189.

- Hugh Hali-watere-clerk, M.

Homer, 223.

- Manekyn le Heaumere, H.

Honeyman, 262.

- Osbert Honiman, A.

- Gilbert Honyman, D.

Hooker.

- William le Hoker, M.

- John Hoker, X.

Hooper, 395.

- Alexander le Hopere, A.

- Andrew le Hopere, M.

Hope.

- Roger de la hope, A.

- David atte Hope, O.

Hopkins, 39.

- Henry ap Hopkyn, B.

- Hopkyn ap Rees, C.

Hopkinson, 39.

- Henry Hopkynson, Z Z.

- Richard Hopkinson, Z.

Hopper, 307.

- Richard le Hoppar, A.

- Geoffrey le Hoppere, H.

- Adam le Hoppere, J.

Hopperson, 65.

- Nicholas Hopperson, v. p. 65 n.

Hore, 444.

- Richard le Hore, A.

- Peter le Hore, B.

- Thomas le Hore, M.

Horn, 142, 394.

- Roger Horn, A.

- Richard Horn, R.

Hornblow (v. Blowhorn), 236

Hornbuckle, 501.

- John Hornbuckle, P P.

Horner, 394.

- Matilda le Hornere, A.

Horner, 394.

- John le Horner, B.

- Richard le Horner, M.

Horsden, 118.

- William de Horsden, A.

- William de Horsenden, Q.

Horsley, 119.

- Beyll Horsle, W 9.

- Roger de Horssele, DD.

Horsman, 285.

- Agnes le Horsman, A.

- John Horseman, H.

Horsemonger, 286.

- Leo le Horsemongere, A.

Horse-nail, 501.

- Thomas Horsenail (Hist. Ant. Surrey).

Hosier, 354.

- Philip le Hosier, M.

- Lawrence Hosyer, H.

Hoskyns (v. Hodgkins), 40.

- Thomas Hoskyns, H.

- Elizabeth Hoskyns, Z.

Host.

- Roger le Hoste, C.

- John le Host, A.

Hostricier (v. Ostricer), 241.

- Geoffrey le Hostriciere, E.

Hotchkins, Hotchkinson, (v. Hodgkinson), 40.

- John Hotchekynson, Z Z.

Hound (v. Hund), 493.

Hound-dealer.

- John Houndealler, F.

Housewife.

- John Hosewyf, G.

Howard, 26.

- John Fitz-Howard, W 2.

- William Howard, A.

Howe

- (1), 127.

- Letitia atte Howe, M.

- John de la How, F F.

- Robert ad le Ho, V 8.

- (2),

- Ralph le Howe, M.

- William le Howe, M.

Howell (v. Powell), 13.

- Howel le Waleys, M.

- Elizabeth ap Howell, B.

- Howel ap David, M.

Howett (v. Hewett), 60.

Howlett (v. Hewlett), 60.

- John Howlett, F.

- Humfrey Howlett, Z.

Howson, 60.

- Carolus Howson, F.

- Simon Howissone, F F.

Hozier (v. Hosier), 354.

Hucker, 294.

- William le Huckere M.

Huckin (v. Hughkin) 60.

Huckster, 294.

- Peter le Huckster, M.

Hudd.

- Hudde de Knaresborough, E.

- Hudde Garcio de Stabulo, DD.

Hudson (v. Hudd).

- Richard Huddeson, H.

- John Hudeson, W 2.

Huet (v. Hewett). 60.

- Huet de Badone, E.

- Joan Huet, W 2.

Huggins, 16, 60.

- William fil. Hugonis, John Hugonys, F F.

- Hugyn, A A 2.

Hugginson, 16, 60.

- Nicholas fil. Hugonis, A.

- William Huggynson, Z Z.

- Mary Huggison, W 16.

Hugh, 60.

- Edde fil. Hugh, A.

- Hugh le Chepman, T.

Hughes, 60.

- Richard Hewys, F.

- Richard Hewes, Z.

Hughkin, 60.

- Hughkin Byston, A A 1.

Hughson, 60.

- John Hughson, Z.

- Richard Hughesson, F F.

Hull, 97.

- Nicholas atte Hulle, B.

- Jordan de la Hulle, F.

Hullett (v. Hewlett), 60.

- William Houghlot, O.

- Roger fil. Hulot, W 8.

Humble, 464.

- Richard Humble, Z.

Humphrey, Humfrey, 12, 27.

- Richard Umfrey, A.

- Humfridus de Bassingbourn, C.

Hund, 492.

- Gilbert le Hund, A.

- William le Hund, B.

Hundredpound (v. Centlivre), 513.

- William Hundredpound, F F.

Hungry.

- William Hungry, R.

Hunnard, 269, 235.

- Helyas le Hunderd, A.

Hunne, 162.

- William le Hunne, A.

- Martin le Hunne, A.

Hunt, 237.

- Nicholas le Hunte, A.

- John le Hunt, B.

- Gilbert le Hunt, M.

Hunter, 237.

- Henry le Huntere, A.

- Thomas le Hunter, M.

Huntsman, 237.

- Walter Hunteman, A.

- Joan Hunteman, C.

Hurd (v. Herd), 266.

- Robert le Hyrde, A.

Hurdman (v. Herdman), 266.

- Mawde Hurdman, A.

- Christopher Hurdsman, W 16.

Hurer (v. Hurrer), 338.

- Alan le Hurer, A.

Hurlebat, 462.

- Robert Hurlebat, X.

- Matilda Hurlebatt, V.

- John Hurlebatt, Z.

Hurlstone, 462.

Hurrer (v. Hurer), 338.

- Geoffrey le Hurwere, A.

Hursley, 116.

- William de Hurslee, A.

Hurst (v. Hirst), 116.

- William de la Hurst, B.

- John atte Hurst, M.

Husband, 505.

- Robert le Hosebonde, A.

- Walter le Husebonde, A.

Husbandman.

- Christopher Husbandman, W 11.

Huskisson, 60.

- John Hocheskynson, F.

Hutchins, 60.

- William Huchyn, F.

- Alan Huchyns, H.

Hutchinson, 60.

- Johannes Huchesson, W 19.

- Thomas Hochinson, F.

- Christopher Huchynson, F.

Hutchreve, 368.

- Robert le Huchereve, N.

Hyde.

- Leticia de la Hyde, A.

- Adam atte Hyde, M.

Hyldsmith.

- William Hyldsmyth, A.

Hyne, 255.

- John le Hyne, A.

- William le Hyne, J.

Hyneson, 65.

- Ellen Hyneson, W 9.

- Thomas Hynson, Z.

Hythe, 233.

- Walter de la Hythe, A.

- Eustace de la Hythe, A.

Hythereve, 233.

- John le Huthereve, O.

Ibbetson (v. Ibbotson), 79.

- Joseph Ibbetson, W 16.

- Francis Ibbitson, W 20.

Ibbet (v. Ibbot), 79.

Ibbot, 79.

- Ibbota fil. Adæ, W 2.

- Walter Ibbot, A.

- Ebote Gylle, Z.

- Ibote Babyngton, Z.

- Ybote de Chalar, A.

Ibbotson, 79.

- Robert fil. Ibotæ, B.

- Alice Ebotson, W 2.

- Henry Ebison or Ibbotson, T T.

Ibbs, Ibson, 79.

- Thos Ibson, W 11.

- John Ibson, W 11.

Icemonger, 391.

- Isabel le Isemongere, G.

- Richard Ismongere, M.

- Agnes la Ismongere, X.

Ida, 19.

- Ida Salter, W 2.

- Ida Carle, A.

- Ida de Bello Campo, A.

Iddison (v. Ida), 19.

- Emma fil. Ido, W 5.

- Thomas Idessone, S.

Idonia, 19.

- Joan fil. Idonea, T.

- Idonea le Engleys, J.

Ilbert.

- Ilbert le Cementer, S S.

- Ilbert de Hereford, DD.

Imary, 29.

- Eymerus de Melinges. M.

- Eimericus de Chaworth, E.

- Aimaric Gedge, M.

Imbert.

- Imbertus de Salinis, B.

- Isembert Burrellus, C.

- Henry Isemberd, A.

Imeson, 29.

Imper, 260.

- Adam le Imper, M.

Imray (v. Imray), 29.

Increase, 104.

- Increase Mather, 104 n.

Inglis, 149.

- William Inglish, B.

- Roger Ingleys, M.

- Walter Ingeleys, A.

Ingram, 29.

- Ingeram de Betoyne, A.

- Engeram Betencurt, E.

- Ingram Germayn, M.

Inman, 292.

- Toby Inman, W 9.

- Henry Inman, Z.

Ireland, 148.

- Adam de Irlond, H.

- Henry de Irlaund, M.

Iremonger, 391.

- John le Irmongere, A.

- Daniel le Irmongere, M.

- William le Irremongere, M.

Irish, 148.

- Adam le Ireis, B.

- Henry le Ireys, M.

- John le Irreys, H.

Irishman, 148.

- Edward Irishman, F F.

Ironfoot, 437.

- Peter Yrenefot, A.

Ironmonger (v. Iremonger), 391.

Ironpurse, 482.

- Jordan Irenepurs, A.

- Robert Irenpurse, A.

Ironsides, 437.

- Margery Ironside, W 9.

- Gilbert Ironside, S S.

Irwin.

- Augustus fil. Erwin, A.

Isaac, 82.

- John Ysac, A.

- Samuel fil. Ysaac, DD.

- Ysaac de Norwich, J.

Isaacson, 82.

- Geoffrey fil. Isaac, J.

- William fil. Isaac, T.

Isabel, 19.

- Isabel de Arcy, A.

- William Isabelles, F F.

Ismay.

- Isemay Eglebird, A.

- Roger fil. Ysmay, A.

- Isamaya Hibernicia, DD.

Isolda, 19.

- Isolda Longespe, A.

- Richard fil. Isolda, A.

- Isolda fil. Hugh, R.

Ison (v. Iveson), 34.

Isott (v. Issot), 79.

- Isotte Symes, Z.

- Izott Barn, Z.

- Ezotta Hall, W 11.

Ispanier, 161.

- Peter Ispanier, 161 n.

Issot (v. Isott), 79.

- John Issot, W 16.

- Sarah Issot, W 16.

Ithell (v. Bethell), 13.

- Ann Ithell, H H.

- Ithell Wynne, A A 1.

Ivatts (v. Ivetts), 34.

Ive (v. Ivo), 34.

- Ive Hook, A.

- William fil. Ive, A.

Ivens, 45.

- Peter fil. Ivone, A.

- John Ivyn, H.

- David ap Ivan, X X 1.

Iverson (v. Iveson), 34.

Ives, 34.

- Thomas fil. Ivonis, E.

- Aimeric fil. Yvo, C.

Iveson, 34.

- William Iveson, W 2.

- Walter fil. Ive, A.

- Antony Iveson, W 11.

Ivetts, 34.

- John fil. Ivette, A.

- Thomas fil. Ivettæ, E.

- Ivetta de Inglethorpe, F F.

Ivison (v. Iveson), 34.

Ivo (v. Ive), 34.

- Ivo le Merch, A.

- Ivo fil. Warin, M.

Ivory-Malet, 509.

Ivot (v. Ivetts), 34.

- Ivote le Bolure, A.

Jackanapes, 492.

- John Jackanapes, M.

Jack, 46 n.

- Jacke le Warner, A.

- Catherine Jak, W 2.

Jackett, 49.

- Jackett Tozer, Z.

- Jaket Owdet, Y.

- Jacquetta Kuskyn, A A 3.

- Henry Jaket, V 11.

Jacklin.

- Alexander Jacklin, v. p. 49.

Jackman, 222, 49.

- Bennett Jackman, Z.

- Anne Jackman, F F.

Jacks, 45, 46 n.

- Agnes Jakkes, A.

- Jakes Amadur, A.

Jackson, 45.

- Robert fil. Jake, A.

- Edmund Jacson, F.

- Thomas Jaxsonn, W 9.

- Richard Jaqueson, V 2.

Jacobs, 46 n.

- Jordan Jacob, A.

- Agnes Jacob, H.

Jacobson.

- Robert fil. Jacob, A.

- Thomas fil. Jacob, M.

Jacox, 45.

Jakeman (v. Jackman), 222.

- John Jakeman, F.

Jake, 45.

- Jake Heriet, A.

- Robert fil. Jake, A.

Jakes (v. Jacks), 45.

- Robert Jacques, M.

- Jakys Breton, W 2.

Jambe, 438.

- Hugh Jambe, A.

- Thomas Jaumbe, M.

James, 94.

- James le Queynt, H.

- John Jamys, H.

- Christiana James, A.

Jameson, Jamieson, 94.

- Thomas Jamson, H.

- Ralph Jamson, Z Z.

Jane

- (1), 48.

- Jane Jay, F F.

- Jane Swete, H.

- Thomas Jeynes, V 2.

- (2). 133.

Janet (v. Jane), 48.

- John Janet, H.

- Janekin Jonet, H.

- Janeta Barker, A.

Janeway, 161.

- Benedict de Janua, E.

- Peter de Jueigny, E.

Jankin (v. Jenkins), 45.

- John Janekyn, B.

- Janekin Jonet, H.

Jannaway (v. Janeway), 161.

Janson (v. Jennison), 45.

- Roger Janneson, F F.

- Peter Janson, F F.

Jarman, 392.

- Robert Jarman, Z Z.

Jarrard, Jarratt, Jarrett, (v. Gerard), 52.

- Jarrard Gore, Z.

- Jarrett Dashwood, F F.

- Jarat Nycholson, W 9.

Jarvis (v. Gervase).

- Ellen Jarvyes, Z.

Jay, 493.

- John le Jay, M.

- Walter le Jay, B.

Jayne, Jeane, (v. Jane), 48, 161.

Jeffcocks, 50.

- John Jeffcocke, Z.

Jefferson, 50.

- Warin Fitz-Geffrey, M.

- Geoffrey Jeffreson, F.

- Peter Geffreyson, Z Z.

Jeffkins, 50.

Jeffries, 50.

- John Geffereys, H.

- Richard Jefferaye, Z.

Jeffrison (v. Jefferson).

- Mathew Jeffreyson, W 16.

Jeff, Jeffs, 50.

- Nicholas Jeff, Z.

- John Jeffes, Z Z.

Jemmitt, 94 n.

- Thomas Jemmitt, 94 n.

- James Jemett, C C 3.

Jenkins, 45.

- Jenkyn le Messer, H.

- Jevan ap Jeynkyns, F.

Jenkinson, 45.

- Katerine Jankynson, F.

- Gilbert Jenkynson, H.

Jenks, 45.

- Rowland Jenks, F.

- Thomas Jenks, Z.

Jenner, 229.

- William le Genour, M.

- Henry Jenner, Z.

Jennings, 45, 49.

- Janyn Godard, H.

- Thomas Jennyns, F.

Jennison, 45, 48.

- Alan fil. Jene, A.

- John Jenanson, H.

- John Jenysyn, F.

- Joan Geneson, W 11.

Jenour (v. Jenner), 229.

Jephson, 50.

- Thomas Jephson, F F.

Jepson, 50.

- Richard Jepson, W 2.

- John Jepsonne, A A 4.

- Moses Gipson, C C 3.

Jerard (v. Jarrard), 53.

- Jerard Watson, W 9.

- Jerrett Bulloke, W 9.

Jervis (v. Gervase).

- Alexander Jervis, Z.

- Edyth Jervice, Z Z.

Jessmaker, 241.

- Robert le Jessemaker, A.

Jeune, 432.

- William le Jeune, A.

- Joceus le Jouene, G.

Jew, 167.

- Mirabilla Judæus, C.

- John le Jew, M.

- Moses le Jew, R.

Jewett, Jewitson, (v. Jowett).

- Christopher Jewitson, Z, 74 n.

- Henry Jewet, X X 1.

- Mary Jewitt, W 16.

Jewry (v. Jury), 166.

Jewsbury (v. Jewry), 167.

Jewson (v. Jewitson), 74 n.

Jill (v. Gill), 73.

Jimson, Jimpson, 94.

- William Gimmison, W 20.

Joan, 48.

- Joan Peny, H.

- Joan de la Pomeroy, H.

- Joan fil. Idonea, T.

Joanes, 48.

Joanna, 19.

- Johanna le Curteys, T.

Job, Jobson, 83.

- John fil. Job, A.

- William Jobbe, M.

- Edward Jobson, Z.

John, 41, 45.

- Thomas John, A.

- John le Gris, T.

Johncock, 45.

Johnson, 45.

- Ivo fil. John, A.

- Edmund Jonson, H.

- Robert Johanson, F.

Joiner, 249.

- Hugh le Joignour, G.

- Alan le Joygnour, N.

Jolifwill, 504.

- William Jolifewille, J.

Jolly, 472.

- William Golye, A.

- Thomas Joly, O.

Jolyffe, 472.

- John Jolif, A.

- Henry Jolyffe, M.

Jones, 45.

- Walter fil. Jone, A.

- William Jon, A.

- Geoffrey Johns, F.

- David Jonys, F.

- Johan Johans, H.

- Robert Johnys, F.

Jonson (v. Johnson), 45.

Jordan, 18, 85.

- Stephen fil. Jordan, A.

- Jordan atte Mulle, M.

- Jordan le Flemynge, J.

Jordanson, Jordeson, Jordison, 86.

- John fil. Jordan, C.

- Ralph 86, fil. Jordan, A.

- Thomas Jordanson, v. p. 86.

- Margery Jordanson, v. p. 86.

Joscelyn, 18.

- Jocelidus fil. Joscelini, T.

- Ralph Josselyn, H.

Joseph, 3.

- Henry fil. Josep, A.

- Adam Josep, M.

- Josep le Taverner, J.

Joule, 433.

Jowetson (v. Jowett), 74.

- Christopher Jewitson, Z.

- Roger fil. Jouettæ, T.

Jowett, 14 n.

- Jowett Barton, W 11.

- Joette de Sudmarle, W 19.

- Juetta fil. William, T.

- Richard fil. Juette, T.

- William Juet, A.

Jowl, 433.

Joy.

- Adam Joye, A.

- William Joye, M.

Joyagain, 102.

Joyce

- (1), 71.

- Joyce Faukes, H.

- Joyce Tibetot, H.

- Joice Frankline, W 9.

- (2), 463, 471.

- Richard le Joyce, J.

Joymaiden, 472.

- Geoffrey Joyemaiden, A.

Judd, Judkins, 86.

- Aron Judde, A.

Judge, 179.

Judson, 86.

- William Judson, Z.

- James Jurdeson, S S.

Jugg.

- Jugg Byron, v. p. 49.

Juggour, 313.

- Richard le Juggour, M.

Juggler, 313.

- Thomas Joculator, M.

Julia, Juliana, 19, 73.

- Emma fil. Juliana, A.

- Juliana Loveday, J.

Juliet (v. Jowett), 74.

- Julita uxor Widonis, C C.

June (v. Jeune), 432.

- Stephen le Juvene, A.

- William le June, R.

Junior, 429.

- John le Junior, F F.

- Egidius Junior, C.

Jurdan (v. Jordan), 86.

- Roger fil. Jurdan, A.

- Thomas Jurdan, F F.

Jury (v. Jewry), 166.

Juster, 305.

- Thomas le Justere, T.

- Robert le Justure, F.

- William Jouster, Z.

Justice, 179.

- William le Justice, A.

- Robert le Justise, E.

Kaiser (v. Cayser), 174.

- Katherine, 11.

- Katerina le Bakere, T.

- Avelina fil. Katerine, T.

Kay, 123.

- John Kay, W 9.

- Jordan Kay, A.

Kean, 467.

- Hugh le Kene, A.

- Joan le Kene, F F.

Keat, 466.

- Mary Kete, Z.

- Roger Kete, Z.

Keeling, 497.

- Josiah Keeling, H H.

- Henricus Keylynge, W 19.

Keen (v. Kean), 467.

Keeper, 232.

- William Kepere, A.

- John Keeper, Z.

Keepguest, 501.

- William Kepegest, A.

Keller, 336.

- Alicia la Keller, F.

- Robert le Kallere, R.

- Alias le Keller, R.

Kempe, 224.

- Roger Kemp, M.

- Nicholas Kemp, M.

Kemper, 320.

Kempson, 65.

Kempster, Kemster, 320.

- Johanna la Kempster, X.

Kendal, 169.

- Roger de Kendale, M.

- Hugh de Kendale, R.

Kenn, 492.

- Eborard le Ken, A.

- Thomas le Chene, A.

- Geoffrey le Ken, B.

Kent, 147.

- Adam de Kent, M.

- William de Kent, J.

Kentish, 147.

- Alan le Kanteis, A.

- William le Kenteys, E.

- Robert le Kenteys, A.

Kenworthy, 134.

Kerr.

- William de le Ker, A.

- John del Ker, H.

Kersall (v. Kershaw), 117.

Kershaw, 117.

- Gilbert Kyrshawe, Z Z.

- Henry Kyrshawe, Z Z.

Kesar, 173.

- Robert le Keser, R.

- Lambert Keser, R.

Ketmonger, 483.

- Adam Ketmongere, A.

Kett, 466.

- Walter le Ket, G.

- Osbert le Ket, J.

Kettle (v. Chettle), 24.

- Emma fil. Ketel, A.

- Robert fil. Ketell, J.

- Ketle le Mercer, A.

Kew (v. Cow).

- Agnes le Keu, M.

- John le Keu, A.

Keyser (v. Keser), 173.

- Richard Keyser, F F.

Kidd, 491.

- Reginald Kyd, A.

- John Kidd, F F.

Kidder, 294.

- William le Kydere, B.

- Richard Kydder, Z.

Kidman, 271.

- Alan Kydeman, A.

- John Kideman, F F.

Killbull, 375.

- Reginald Cullebol, A.

Killbullock, 375.

- Henry Cullebulloc, A.

Killhare, 375.

- William Cullehare, A.

Killhog, 375.

- William Cullehog, A.

Kind, 464.

- Adam Kind, Z.

- Andrew Kynd, F F.

King, 174.

- Hamond le King, A.

- Robert le Kynge, C.

- Saher le King, H. 176 n.

Kingsman, 176 n.

- Richard Kyngesman, A.

- Ralph Kyngesman, M.

Kingson, 176 n.

- Reginald Kyngessone, A.

- Simon Kyngeson, M.

Kinley, 119.

Kinsman, 429.

- John Kynnesman, Z Z.

- Leonard Kinsman, Z.

Kirk, 113.

- Joan atte Kirke, B.

- Robert atte Kirke, J.

Kirker, 113.

Kirkman, 113.

- Roger le Kyrkeman, A.

- Thomas Kirkeman, W 2.

Kisser, 223.

- Richard le Kissere, X.

Kitchen, 136, 206.

- Henry atte Kychene, M.

- Richard del Kechin, H.

Kitchener, 206.

- Thomas Kitchynner, W 11.

Kitchenman, 206.

- Alice Kitchinman, W 2.

- Robert Kytchinman, Z Z.

- Christopher Kychman, W 9.

Kitchingham, 206.

- Thomas Kitchingham, W 16.

Kite, 493.

- Agnes Kite, F F.

- John Kyte, F F.

Kitewild, 484.

- Jordan Kitewilde, A.

Kitson, 57.

- John Kitson, W 9.

- Mary Kitson, Z.

Kitts, 57.

- Nicholas Kitte, A.

- William Kitte, A.

Knabwell, 127.

- Robert de Cnapwell, A.

- John de Cnabwelle, A.

Knapman, 127.

- James Knapman, Z.

- William Knapman, Z Z.

Knapp, 127.

- John Knappe, A.

- Capella de la Cnappe, DD.

Knapper, 127.

- William Knappere, G.

Knapton, 127.

- Thomas de Cnapeton, A.

- William Knapton, W 16.

Knave, 255.

- Simon Knave (Lower, i. 242.)

- Walter le Knave, F.

Kneebone, 437.

- John Knebone, Z.

- Antony Knebone, Z.

Knifesmith, 282, 214.

- Henry Knyfesmythe, F.

Knight, 198.

- Reginald le Knicht, A.

- Juliana le Knit, A.

- Emmot Kneyt, A.

- Simon le Knyt, A.

Knope (v. Knapp), 127.

Knopp (v. Knapp), 127.

Knott, 451.

- Isolda Knotte, A.

- William Knotte, J.

Knowler, 122.

Knowlman, 122.

Knowles, 122.

- Roger de la Cnolle, A.

- John atte Knolle, B.

Korah, 101.

Laborer.

- Isabel Laberer, Z Z.

Robert Laborer, Z Z.

Labouchere (v. Butcher), 374.

Lacer, 348.

- Henry le Lacer, H.

- Richard le Lacer, X.

Lache, 479.

- John le Lache, A.

- William Lache, A.

Lacklove, 474.

- Simon Lacklove, A.

Lacter, 272.

- John le Lacter, M.

Lake.

- William atte Lake, A.

- Walter de la Lake, A.

Lallimand, 165.

Lamb, 491.

- William le Lamb, A.

- Richard le Lomb, A.

Lambden, Lamden, 118.

- William Lambdene, A.

Lambert, 57.

- Lambert fil. Thome, C.

- Robert Lamberd, H.

Lambgroom, 445.

- John Lambegrom, A.

Lambkin (v. Lampkin), 57.

- Lambekin Taborer, P.

Lambshead, 435.

- Agnes Lambesheved, A.

Lament, 103.

- Lament Willard, 103.

Lameman, 440.

- William Laymeman, v. p. 440.

- Christiana Lameman, W 11.

- Alex. Lameman, W 11.

Lamentation, 103.

- Lamentation Chapman, Z.

Lammas, 62.

- Richard Lammasse, A.

- Thomas Lammas, F F.

Lampkin, 57.

- Lambekyn fil. Eli, C.

- Lamkyn Lokyr, O.

Lamprey, 497.

- William Lampreye, A.

Lampson, 57.

- William Lampson, Z Z.

- Edward Lamson, F F.

- Antony Lambeson, 57 n.

Lance, 459.

- Mabil Lance, A.

- Johanna Lance, A.

Land, 122.

- Richard de la Lande, B.

- William atte Land, M.

Landells, 168.

Lander, 122, 362.

- William Landre, A.

Landman, 122.

- Richard le Landman, M.

Lane, 108, 115.

- Cecilia-in-the-Lane, A.

- Alexander atte Lane, B.

Lane-end, 144.

- Margaret atte Lane-ende, H.

- Alice atte Lane-ende, X.

Laner, 319.

- Bartholomew le Laner, A.

- John le Laner, T.

Lang, 436.

- Hamo le Lang, M.

- John le Lange, L.

Langbane, 436.

- Henry Langbane, W 11.

Langhorn, 461.

- Benjamin Langhorne, W 11.

Langley, 150.

- John de Langeleye, M.

Langley, 150.

- Thomas de Langeleghe, E.

Langshaw, 117.

- Henry Langshawe, X X 1.

- Robert Langschawe, W 11.

Langskinner, 505.

- Henry Langeskynnere, M.

Langstaff, 409.

- Agnes Langstaff, G.

- Langstaf, DD.

Langworthy, 134.

- John Langworth, Z.

- Christopher Langworthie, Z.

Lanyer, 319.

- William Lannator, A.

- Toke Lanarius, A.

Lapwater.

- Henry Lapewater, X.

Lardiner, Lardner, 270.

- Philip le Lardiner, B.

- Thomas le Lardiner, M.

- Hugh le Lardiner, L.

Large, 431.

- William le Large, A.

- Robert le Large, M.

- William le Large, E.

Lark, 494.

- Richard le Laverock, A.

- Hamo Larke, A.

Larkins, Larrett, Larson, (v. Lawson), 56.

- William Lareson, P P.

- Andrew Larrett, P P.

Lascelles, 151.

- Alan de Lascelle, A.

- Robert de Laceles, E.

Lashe (v. Lache), 479.

Laskie, 479.

Last, 144.

Latimer, 197.

- William le Latiner, G.

- Alan le Latymer, J.

- Warin le Latimer, B.

- Nicholas le Latimer, M.

Latner, Latoner, 284, 392.

- Richard le Latonere, V 9.

- Thomas le Latoner, M.

- Richard Latoner, F F.

Laugh-well.

- Henry Laughwell, Z.

Laund, 122.

- Robert de la Laund, A.

- Nicholas atte Launde, F F.

Launder, 362.

- John Launder, Z.

- Jeffery Lawnder, F F.

Laura.

- Laureta Picot, M M.

- Loreta del Platt, A A 4.

Laurence, 18.

- John fil. Laurence, M.

- Ester Laurence, F F.

Lavender, 362.

- Alice la Lavander, A.

Lavender, 362.

- Robert le Lavender, A.

- Isabel la Lavendre, E.

Laverick (v. Lark), 494.

- Cuthbert Lavericke, W 20.

Lawe, 127.

- David atte Lawe, M.

- Thurston Lawe, Z.

Lawman, 127.

- Raulf Laurence, A.

- William Lawrence, V 8.

Lawpage, 506.

- Agnes Lawpage, W 2.

- Richard Lawpege, Z.

- Christopher Lawpage, F F.

Lawrence (v. Laurence), 17, 56.

- Piers Lawrence, Z.

Lawson (v. Lawrence).

- John fil. Lawrence, A.

- Thomas fil. Launce, A.

- Thomas Lauson, F.

- Edward Lason, V 7.

Laycock, 15.

- Josiah Laycocke, W 16.

- Peter Laycocke, W 16.

Laye, 119.

- Emma de Lay, A.

- Bernard de Lay, A.

Layman, 119.

- Elias Layman, A.

Lazarus, 431.

Lea, 119.

- William de la Lea, A.

- Ralph de la Leye, A.

Leach, 384.

- Hugh le Leche, A.

- Robert le Leche, M.

- John le Leche, X.

Leachman, 384.

Leadbeater, Leadbetter, Leadbitter, 284.

- Gonnilda le Ledbetere, A.

- Reginald le Ledbeter, M.

- Thomas Leadbeater, Z Z.

Leader, 410.

- Oliver Leader, Z.

- John Leder, Z Z.

Leaf, 473.

- Alice le Lef, A.

- Matilda le Lef, A.

Leal, 464.

Lean, 431.

- Roland le Lene, A.

- Richard Lene, H.

Leaper, 395.

Leapman, 395.

Least, 432.

- Richard le Lest, J.

Leave-to-day, 501.

- John Leve-to-day, A.

Leatherhose, Ledderhose, 457.

- John Letherhose, A.

- Richard Letherhose, R.

Lee, 119.

- Roger de la Lee, B.

- John atte Lee, M.

Leech (v. Leach), 384.

- Sibil le Leche, F F.

Leeder (v. Leader), 410.

- John Leeder, F F.

Lees, 119.

- Roger de Lees, A.

- William de Leghes, J.

- Avelina de Leys, J.

Legate.

- Geoffrey le Legat, A.

- Nicholas Legat, M.

Legge, 437, 168.

- John de Leg, A.

- Philip de Leg, J.

Legh, 119.

- Pagan a la Legh, A.

- Adam de la Legh, J.

Leghman, 119.

- Henry Legeman, A.

Leigh, 119.

- William de la Leigh, M.

- William de Leigh, F F.

Leighman.

- Henry Legeman, A.

Leman, Lemman, Lemon, 477.

- Eldred Leman, A.

- John Leman, M.

- Thomas Lemon, V 5.

Lenebaud (v. Baud),

- Thomas Lenebaud, A.

- William Lenebaud, E.

Lenedame, 433.

- Matilda Lenedame, A.

Leopard, 488.

- John Lepard, H.

Leper, Lepper, 193, 431.

- Nicholas le Lepere, M.

- Walter le Lepere, A.

- Geoffrey le Lepere, A.

Lessoner, 198.

- Nicholas le Lessoner, A.

Letitia (v. Lettice), 19, 71.

- Leticia Palmere, A.

Letson, 71.

- John fil. Lettice, A.

- John Lettesone, M.

Lettice, 71.

- Warin Letice, A.

- Letice de Uggele, X.

- Lettice Leicester, Z.

- John Lettice, P P.

Letts (v. Letson), 71.

Lewd, 481.

- Robert le Lewed, M.

- William le Lewed, M.

Lewis, Lewison, Lewson,

- John Lewis, V 11.

- Lewes Robson, W 16.

- James Lewsone, V 11.

- James Lusone, V 11.

- John Lewson, V 10.

Liar, 480.

- Henry le Liere, A.

Liberty (v. Leadbeater), 284.

Lickpeny, 483.

Lidbitter (v. Leadbeater), 284.

Lidgate, 130.

- Thomas de Lidgate, M.

- Walter atte Lideyate, H.

Light, 431.

- Thomas le Leht, A.

- William le Light, M.

Lightfoot, 439.

- Robert Lightfot, M.

- Thomas Lightfot, G.

Lightharness, 501.

- John Lightharness, W 13.

- Thomas Lightharness, W 13.

Light-red, 448.

- Ralph Light-red, M.

Light-white, 448.

- John Lite-whyte, M.

Likelove, 474.

Lilter, 440.

- Roger le Liltere, A.

Lilywhite, 442.

- Elizabeth Lilywhite, W 11.

Limebear, Limebeer, 250.

Limer, 250.

- John le Limer, A.

Limethwaite, 121.

Limewright, 277, 250.

- Hugh le Limwryte, A.

Limmer, 406.

Limner, 406.

- Ralph Illuminator, A.

- Thomas Liminer, A.

- Godfrey le Lomynour, T.

- William le Lomner, E.

Lina, 72.

- Lyna le Archer, A.

- Lena Aylmen, R R 1.

Lind, 128.

- Henry de la Lynde, B.

- Robert ate Lynde, M.

Lindley, 119, 128.

Lindraper, 328.

- Wymund le Lyngedraper, A.

- William le Lyndraper, G.

- Elias le Lyndraper, M.

Lindsey, 169.

Liner, 328.

- Gilbert le Lyner, A.

- Michael le Linere, A.

Linger, 208.

- Robert le Lingure, A.

Linnet, Linota, 72.

- Linota ate Feld, A.

- Linota Vidua, A.

Lion, 488.

- Richard Lion, V 2.

Lipscombe, 125.

Lister, 322.

- Nicholas le Lystere, G.

- Andrew le Litster, M.

- Hugh le Litster, R.

Little, 431.

- William le Letle, A.

- Robert le Litele, M.

Littlebond.

- William Lutebonde, A.

Littleboy.

- John Littleboye, Z.

- George Littleboy, C C 3.

Littlecope.

- John Littlecope, A.

Littlehair, 453.

- John Lytlehare, F F.

- Simon Lytehare, M.

Littlejohn, 46, 503.

- Richard fil. Parvi-Johannis, A.

Littleking, 176 n., 505.

- William Litelking, A.

Littlepage, 215, 506.

Littleproud, 462.

- John Littleproud, F F.

- Reginald Littleprowe, F F.

Littler, 432.

- Ranulph Lyttylore, X X 1.

- Richard Lytteler, Z.

Littlesire, 506.

- Hugh Litilsir, W 8.

Littleskill.

- Thomas Litilskill, P.

Littleson, 506.

- Ralph Littulsone, R.

Littleswain, 505.

- Philip Litsweyn, A.

Liverpool, 147.

- Richard de Lyverpole, M.

Livewell, 104.

- Live-well Sherwood, 104 n.

Locke, 450.

- Nicol Locke, A.

Locker (v. Lockyer), 282.

Lockman, 282.

- John Lockman, H H.

Locksmith, 282.

- John Locksmith, W 2.

- Robert Locsmyth, A.

- William Loksmyth, M.

Lockyer, 282.

- Henry le Lokier, A.

- John Lokare, A.

Locock, 95.

Loder, 410.

- Emma le Lodere, A.

- Agnes le Lodere, A.

Lofthouse, Loftus, 369.

- William Lofthouse, W 16.

- John Loftous, W 16.

Lombard, 162.

- Richard Lomberd, A.

- Jacob le Lumberd, E.

London, 148.

- Robert de London, A.

London, 148.

- Walter de London, M.

- Thomas de London, J.

Londonish, 148.

- William Londonissh, M.

- Ralph le Lundreys, T.

- Richard Londoneys, A.

Long, 431.

- Hamo le Long, A.

- Walter le Long, C.

- Gilbert le Longe, M.

Longacre, 134.

- Roger le Langacre, M.

Longespe, 459.

- Isolda Longespe, A.

- Thomas Longespe, M.

- Emelina Longespee, J.

Longfellow, 506.

- Peter Langfellay, W 11.

- Elizabeth Longfellow, W 16.

Longman, 433.

- Thomas Longman, O.

- William Longman, F F.

Longness, 125.

Longshank, 438.

Longshaw (v. Langshaw).

Longstaff, 462.

- William Longstaf, A.

- William Longstaff, F F.

Longwright, 505.

- John Longus-faber, M.

Looker, 282.

Lord, 175.

- Walter le Loverd, A.

- John le Lorde, B.

- Robert le Lord, C.

Lordan, 478.

Lorayne (v. Lorraine), 159.

Lorel, 478.

Lorimer, 144, 289.

- Alan le Lorymer, T.

- Nicholas le Lorimer, C.

- Thomas le Lorimer, M.

Loring, 159.

- Peter de Loring, A.

- John le Loreng, A.

- Dux Lotharing, R.

Lorn.

- Imbert le Lorn, E.

Lorraine (v. Loring), 159.

Lorrimer (v. Lorimer), 144, 289.

Losewit, 470.

- Henry Losewyt, L.

Louse, 498.

- Nicholas le Lus, J.

Love, 473, 488.

- Robert le Love, A.

- Mabil Love, J.

Lovechild.

- John Lovechild, A.

Lovecock, 473.

- Roger Lovecock, B.

- Philip Lovecok, D.

Loveday, 63.

- Alexander Loveday, A.

- Ralph Loveday, M.

Lovegold, 482.

- John Lovegold, F F.

Lovejoy, 500.

- Thomas Lovejoy, Z.

Lovekin

- (1), 473.

- Lovekyn Piscator, A.

- Lovekyn Stukepenne, A.

- (2), 473.

- John Lovekyn, D.

- Richard Lovekyn, M.

Lovelance, 462.

- Simon Lovelaunce, T.

Lovelock, 386, 449.

- Thomas Lovelok, A.

Loveloker, 385.

- Walter le Loveloker, A.

Loving, 103.

- Loving Bell, Q Q.

Lowe

- (1), 431.

- Brian le Lo, A.

- Robert le Low, M.

- (2), 127.

- Hugh de Lowe, A.

- Robert atte Lowe, M.

Lowman.

- Parthenia Lowman (Maitland’s ‘London,’ ii. p. 605).

Lowndes, 122.

- John de la Lound, R.

- Beatrice atte Lound, F F.

Lubbard, Lubber, (v. Lombard), 162.

Lubbock, 168.

- Robert de Lubyck, A.

- Hildebrand de Lubek, J.

Lucas (v. Luke).

- Lucas Barcator, A.

- Thomas fil. Lukas, W 15.

Lucca.

- Luke of Lucca, O.

Lucke, 162.

- John de Luke, M.

Luckett, 95.

- Matilda Luket, W 11.

- Walter Luket, W 11.

Luckins, 95.

- Jane Luckin, F F.

- Robert Lukyn, Z.

Luckock, Lucock, 95.

- Richard Luccock, Z.

Lucy

- (1), 19.

- Richard fil. Lucia, J.

- William fil. Luciæ, T.

- (2), 151.

- Geoffrey de Lucy, G.

- Robert de Lucy, G.

Luke, 95.

- Luke Morel, M.

- Walter Luke, H.

Lukett (v. Luckett), 95.

Lukie, 162.

Lumbard, 162.

- Michael le Lumbard, H.

- Jacobina la Lumbard, X.

Lumner (v. Limner), 406.

- Edmund Lumner, Z Z.

- Henry Lominour, F F.

- Thomas Lumpner, W 11.

Lund, 122.

- Richard de la Lund, A.

- William de la Lund, K.

Lupe, 488.

- Robert le Lupe, B.

- Robert le Lup, L.

Lurdan, 478.

Lusk, 479.

Lusty, 431.

Luter, 310.

- German le Lutrere, T.

- John le Leuter, R.

- Haunce the Luter (Privy expenses Princess Mary).

Lyard, 445.

- Henry Lyard, A.

- William Liard, M.

- Walter Lyhert, H.

Lyndholt, 128.

- Robert de Lindholt, A.

Lyndhurst, 116.

- Henry de Lindhurst, E.

- Henry de Lindeherst, K.

Lyndsay, 133.

- Robert de Lindesay, A.

- William de Lindesia, E.

Lyon (v. Lion), 488.

Lyons, 170.

- Herveus de Lyons, C.

- Richard de Lyouns, M.

Lyte, 433.

- William le Lyt, M.

- Gonnilda le Lyth, A.

Lyteman, 433.

- Richard Liteman, A.

- John Lytman, Z.

Mabbott, 71.

- George Mabbott, P P.

- William Mabbott, P P.

Mabbs (v. Mabson).

- Giles Mabbes, F F.

- Mary Mabbs, F F.

Mabil (v. Amabilia).

- Amabilia de Tynedale, S S.

- Richard Mable, M.

Mabson (v. Mabil).

- Thomas Mabson, S S.

- Richard Mabson, W 15.

- Michael Mabson, W 11.

Macer, 387.

- John le Macher, A.

Mackarel, 497.

- Richard Makarel, A.

- Ralph Makerell, H.

Macklehose, 457.

Mad, 442.

- Jordan le Madde, R.

Maddelyn, 67.

- Thomas le Maddelyn, A.

Maderer, 323.

- Laurence Maderer, H.

- Thomas Maderer, X X 1.

Maderman, 323.

- John Maderman, M.

Madison (v. Mawson).

- Thomas Mawdeson, F F.

- John Madison, V 3.

- Ralph Maddison, W 16.

Madswain, 505.

- Alan Madsweyn, A.

Magdalen (v. Maddelyn), 67.

- Magdalen Garison, W 16.

Maggot, 76.

- Magota del Hill, W 2.

- Magot Catell, W 2.

- Maggot Fin, A.

- Richard Maggote, A.

Maggs, 76.

- Magge Flie, A.

- Henry fil. Mag, A.

- Robert Magges, M.

Magotson (v. Magot), 76.

Main, Maine, 158, 437.

Mainstrong, 437.

- Thomas Mainstrong, A.

Mainwaring (v. Mannering), 32, 339.

Mair, Maire, (v. Mire), 184.

Major.

- William le Magere, A.

Makeblisse, 463.

- Julian Makeblisse, A.

Makeblithe (v. Makebliss).

- John Makeblythe, W 11.

Makefere, 475.

- Hugh Makefere, A.

- William Makefair, N.

Make-joy, 463.

- Maud Makejoy.

Makepeace, 463.

- Joan Makepeace, John Makepeace, P P.

- Richard Makepeace, W 20.

Makin, 78.

- Henry Maykin, A.

- Maykina Parmunter, H.

- Makinus Happyng, X X 1.

Makinson, 78.

- John Makinson, Z.

- William Makinson, F F.

Malebraunch, 437.

- Roger Malebraunche, A.

- Matilda Malebraunch, B.

Malemaker.

- Henry Malemaker, R R 2.

Malemeyne, 437.

- Nicholas Malemayne, B.

- John Malemeyne, R.

Malenfant, 507.

- Robert Malenfant, T.

- John Malefaunt, Z Z.

Malkin, 77.

- John Malekyn, O.

- William Malkyn, M.

Mallard, 494.

Malpas, 440.

Malregard, 434.

- William Malregard, T.

- Geoffrey Malreward, J.

Malster, 379.

- John Malster, B.

- Aleyn le Maltestere, H.

Malter, 379.

Malthus, 131.

- Beatrix Malthus, W 16.

- Simon Malthus, W 16.

Maltmaker, 379.

- Hugh le Maltmakere, A.

Man, 506.

- Henry le Man, A.

- Richard le Man, E.

Manchester, 147.

- Guido de Mancestre, M.

- William de Mauncestre, A.

Manciple, 210.

- Thomas Mancipill, 210 n.

Manclerk (v. Mauclerk), 505.

Mander (v. Maunder), 396.

Mangevileyn, 507.

- Robert Mangevileyn, W 10.

Manikin, 433.

- Robert Manekin, A.

- Manekyn le Heaumer, H.

Mann (v. Man), 506.

Mannering, 32.

- Robert de Meynwaring, A.

- Warin de Menwarin, B.

Mansel, 210 n.

- Sampson le Maunsel, A.

- John le Maunsel, M.

- Robert le Mansel, J.

Mantel, 457.

- Robert Mantel, C.

- Walter Mantel, L.

Manyword.

- John Maniword, M.

- Reginald Maniword, R.

Mapleson, 71.

Marbiler, Marbrer, 249.

- Geffrey le Merberer, B.

- John le Merbrer, X.

- Walter la Marbiler, X.

Marcer (v. Mercer), 356.

Marchant, 407.

- Henry le Marcant, A.

- Robert le Marchaunt, M.

- William le Marchant, B.

Marcock, 95.

Marcus, 95.

Margaret, 75.

- Margaret fil. Olivæ, T.

- Margaret le Grey, J.

Margerison, 76.

- Henry fil. Margaret, A.

- Richard fil. Margaret, J.

Margery, 76.

- John Margerie, A.

- Margerie le Bercher, T.

- Majoria Comyn, W 2.

Margetson (v. Margerison), 76.

- Francis Margetson, F F.

- Thomas Margetson, F F.

- Joyce Margetson, P P.

Margetts, 75.

- Margota Servant, W 2.

- Robert Margets, Z.

Margison, 76.

- Richard fil. Marge, A.

- John fil. Marge, A.

Maria, 76.

- William fil. Marie, A.

- Maria le Chaucer, J.

- Ediva fil. Mariæ, T.

Mariot (v. Marriot), 16, 76.

Mark, 95.

Markettman, 298.

- William Markettman, v. p. 298 n.

- Nicholas Marketman, T T.

- Clement Marketman, T T.

Markin, 95.

Marks, 95.

Marler, 259.

- Alice le Marlere, A.

- John Marlere, B.

Marlward, 259.

- John Marleward, A.

Marner, Marriner, 408.

- Henry le Mariner, H.

- Roger le Mariner, A.

Marriott, 16, 77.

- Mariota in le Lane, A.

- Walter fil. Mariot, A.

- Adam fil. Mariot, A.

- John fil. Mariotæ, T.

Marshall, 212, 290.

- Gunnilda le Marescal, A.

- William le Marchal, B.

- John le Mareshall, B.

- Henry le Marshall, B.

Marson, 95.

Marten, 489.

Martin

- (1), 18.

- Martin le Freman, A.

- Richard fil. Martin, A.

- (2), 489.

- Mathew le Martun, E.

Martyr, 443.

- John le Martre, G.

- William le Martre, J.

Maryatt (v. Marriott), 77.

- John Maryott, F.

- Nichol Maryot, A.

Mashmaker, 379.

- John Mashemaker, 379 n.

Maslin, 387.

Mason

- (1),

- Roger fil. Maye, A.

- (2), 249.

- Osbert le Machun, A.

- Gotte le Mazoun, A.

- Adam le Mazon, M.

Massacrer, 375.

- Laurence le Macecrer, E.

Masser (v. Mazerer), 387.

Massinger (v. Messager), 217.

Master, 506.

- Thomas le Maistre, M.

- Alan le Mayster, A.

- John le Mayster, B.

Masterman.

- Richard Masterman, H.

- Thomas Mastermen, Q.

- Syth Maisterman, W 16.

Masterson, 65.

- Roger le Maistressone, G.

- Dorothy Masterson, Z.

- Robert Maystreson, X X 4.

Mathew, 91.

- Oliver Matheu, M.

- Mathew le Vineter, L.

Mathewman, 506.

- John Mathewman, W 16.

- Richard Mathewman, W 16.

Mathews, 91.

- Edward Mathewes, Z.

- Mark Mathews, W 16.

Mathewson, 91.

- William fil. Mathew, A.

- Richard fil. Mathæi, C.

- Alex. Mathewson, X X 1.

Matilda, 19, 44, 78.

- Juetta fil. Matilda, A.

- Sabina fil. Matilda, T.

Matkin, 91.

- Richard Matkyn, Z Z.

- Jermayne Matkyn, Z Z.

Matthew (v. Mathew), 91.

Mattinson, Mattison, Matson, 91.

- Richard Mattyson, Z.

- Launcelott Matterson, W 16.

- Marmaduke Matteson, W 16.

- Anne Mattson, W 16.

Matt, Matts, 91.

- Andrew Matts, F F.

- Adam Matt, A.

Mattwife, 52.

- Avice Mattewife, P.

Mauclerk, 505.

- Walter Malclerk, P P.

- Godfrey Mauclerk, P P.

Maud, 78.

- Maud de Holland, H.

- John Maude, M.

Maudlin, Maudling, 67.

- Maudlin Hoby, V 2.

- Maudelyn David, Z.

- Robert Maudelyn, O.

Maugason (v. Mauger).

- Hugh Maugason, H.

- William Maugesson, F F.

Mauger.

- Malger le Clerke, A.

- Thomas fil. Mauger, A.

- Mauger fil. Elie, M.

Maunder, 396.

- John Mawndour, W 9.

Maunsel (v. Mansel), 210 n.

Maurice, 19.

- Serl fil. Morice, A.

- Mauricius Capellanus, C.

Mawkin (v. Mawson).

- Auriana Mawkin, Q Q.

Mawson, 77.

- Simon fil. Matilda, J.

- William Mawson, Z.

- Thomas Mawdeson, F F.

- Richard son of Mawe, A A 2.

May.

- Bateman le May, A.

- Robert le Mey, G.

- Ralph le May, M.

Maycock (v. Matthew), 91.

- Hugh Maykoc, A.

Mayer, 184.

- James Mayer, Z.

Mayhew (v. Mathew).

- Adam fil. Maheu, A.

- Mayeu de Basingbourne, M.

Maykin (v. Makin), 78, 91.

- Henry Maykin, A.

Mayne, 158.

Mayor (v. Mayer), 184.

Mazeliner, 387.

- John le Mazelyner, M.

- William le Mazeliner, R.

Mazerer, 387.

- Adam le Mazerer, A.

- John le Mazerere, N.

- William le Mazerer, X.

Mead, 132.

- Robert atte Mede, M.

- Richard ate Med, A.

Meadow, 132.

- John Atte-medowe, F F.

- William Atte-medow, F F.

Meadowcroft, 132.

- Nicholas de Meducroft, R.

Meagre (v. Megre), 431.

Meagresauce.

- Peter Meagresause, R.

Mealmonger (v. Oatmonger), 275.

- John le Melmongere, M.

Meakin, 78.

- Robert Meykin, C.

- John Meakin, Z.

Measel, Measle, 194.

- Richard le Masle, L.

- Richard le Masele, T.

Meatyard, 461.

Medde, 132.

- Ralph ate Med, A.

- Philip atte Medde, M.

Meddler, 465.

- Nicholas le Medler, A.

Medlicote, Medlicott, 458.

- Thomas Modlycott, Z.

Medward, 132.

- William le Medward, A.

Meek, 464.

- Robert le Meke, B.

- Robert le Meeke, Q.

Meekin (v. Meakin), 78.

Meggs, 76.

- John fil. Megge, A.

- Henry Megges, Z.

Megre, 431.

- John le Meaugre, O.

- Hugh le Megre, M.

- Basilia le Megre, T.

Megson, 76.

- Adam Meggessone, M.

- Roger Megson, W 9.

- John fil. Megge, A.

Megucer, 331.

- John le Megucer, N.

- Richard le Megucer, N.

Meir, 185.

- David le Meir, A.

- Henry le Mere, M.

Melchior, 100.

- Melchior Rainald, T T.

Melchizedek, 100.

- Melchezedek Payn, Z.

Mellon-Colley, 509.

Mendfault.

- Walter Mendfaute, W 11.

Mercer, 356.

- Ketel le Mercer, A.

- Henry le Mercer, B.

Merchant (v. Marchant), 407.

Mercy, 106.

- Mercy Bagley, W 16.

Meredeth, 473.

Merriman, 472.

- William Merryman, F.

- John Meryman, X.

- Gerard Merriman, W 16.

Merry, 463, 472.

- William Merrye, Z.

- Roger Merrey, Z.

Merrycock, 472.

- Richard Merricocke, F.

Merrymouth, 434.

- John Merrymouth, V.

- Richard Merymouth, X.

Merryweather, 472.

- Andrew Muriweder, A.

- Henry Muriweder, O.

Messager, 217.

- Roger le Messager, B.

- John le Messager, C.

Messinger (v. Messager), 217.

- Robert Messinger, W 11.

- Eliz. Messinger, W 16.

Meteyard, 408.

Meynell, 154.

- Hugh de Meynill, T.

- Robert de Meynnill, A.

Meyre (v. Meir), 184.

Michael, 99.

- Gilbert Michel, A.

- Michael le Jovene, M.

Michaelmas (v. Middlemas), 62

Michaelson, 99.

- Roger fil. Michael, A.

- Harvey fil. Michael, A.

Micklejohn, 46, 503.

Micklethwaite, 121.

Middlemas, 62.

- Shorman Myglemas, A.

Midwinter, 62.

- Gonnilda Midewynter, A.

- John Midwinter, H.

Milchom, 101 n.

- Melcom Groate, T T.

Mildew, 501.

- Richard Myldew, 501 n.

Milend, 114.

- Simon de la Milende, E.

Miles, 41.

- Milo le Messer, A.

- Milo Basset, R.

- Wychard Miles, A.

Mileson, 41.

- Alicia fil. Milo, A.

- Richard Mileson, v. p. 41.

Milicent.

- Joan fil. Milicente, A.

- Millesent Cruche, A.

Milker, 272.

- Thomas le Milkar, A.

- William le Milkar, T.

Milksop, 181.

- William Milksop, M.

- William Milkesop, J.

- Hugh Milkesop, R R 1.

Millard (v. Milward), 274.

Miller (v. Milner), 274.

- John le Mellere, M.

Millerson, 65.

- Gilbert Millerson, W 3.

Millet, Millot, 41.

- Richard fil. Milot, M M.

- Roger Millot, A.

- Thomas Mylett, W 9.

Millikin.

- Agnes Myllykin, 55.

Mills (v. Milnes), 274.

- John del Mill, M.

- Roger atte Mille, A.

Millson, 41.

- John fil. Mille, A.

- Edward Myleson, Z Z.

- Anne Millison, W 16.

Milman, 274.

Millward, 274.

- Walter le Meleward, N.

- Robert le Milleward, A.

- William le Milward, G.

Milmaster, 275 n.

- Andrew Milmaster, 275 n.

Milner, 274.

- Alan le Milner, G.

- William le Melner, M.

- Emmot Mylner, W 9.

Milnes, 274.

- John atte Melne, A.

- Thomas atte Milne, B.

Minsmith, 282, 404.

- John le Mynsmuth, M.

Minter, 404.

- Henry le Munetar, A.

- Ralph le Myneter, N.

Mirabilla, 19.

- Mirabella Wal, W 2.

- Belina fil. Mirabilis, DD.

- Lucia Mirable, A.

Mire (v. Meir), 184.

- John le Mire, J.

- Agnes le Myre, J.

Miress, 184.

- Margaret la Miresse, E.

Mirorer.

- Crispiana le Mirorer, A.

- John le Mirorer, H.

- Richard le Mirourer, X.

Mitchell (v. Michael), 99.

Mitchelson, 99.

- Thomas Mychelson, W 3.

- Seth Meculson, Z Z.

- John fil. Mich, A.

Mitchener, 367.

Mock-king.

- Nichol Mokkynge, Y.

Mohun, 151.

- John de Mohun, H.

Moigne, 191.

- William le Moigne, B.

- Ivo le Moyn, A.

Molehunte, 238.

- William Molehunte, A.

Mollison, 80.

- Hugh fil. Mary, A.

Monday, 63.

- Symon Moneday, A.

- Andrew Monday, Z.

Moneyer, 404.

- Haco le Muner, A.

- John le Muner, B.

- Gilbert le Muner, G.

Moneymaker, 404.

- John Monemaker, W 2.

Moneyman, 404.

- Robert Moneyman, F F.

Moneypeny, 482.

- Richard Monypeny, A.

- Thomas Monipeni, W 2.

- Alexander Moneypenny, F F.

Monier, 404.

- Henry le Moneur, A.

- John le Monnier, N.

- Hamo le Monner, T.

Monk, 191.

- William le Monek, A.

- Peter le Monek, M.

- John le Monck, G.

Monkman, 188.

- William Munkeman, W 15.

Montaigne, 123.

- Peter de Monetania, K.

- Hamond de Monetania, F F.

Moody, 468.

- Richard Mody, G.

- John Mody, W 9.

Moor, Moore,

- (1), 161.

- Robert le More, E.

- John le Moor, R.

- (2), 125.

- John atte Mor, A.

- Jordan de la Mor, A.

Moorslade, 121.

- William de la Morslade, R.

Moorward, 232.

- German le Morward, A.

- Henry le Morward, B.

Morcombe, 125.

More, 125.

- Adam del More, M.

- Oliva ate More, A.

Morefruit, 102.

Morell, 445.

- Thomas Morel, A.

- Ralph Morell, J.

Moretrial, 102.

Morley.

- Milo de Morlee, A.

- Robert de Morlegh, M.

Morris, Morrison, (v. Maurice).

- Morice ap-Owen, X X.

- Mauricius Capellanus, C.

- William Morrison, W 16.

Mortimer, 151.

- Roger de Mortimer, A.

- Hugh de Mortumare, A.

Mountain (v. Montaigne), 123.

Mouse, 492.

- John le Mous, M.

- Richard Mowse, Z.

- Hugh le Mus, E.

Mower, 256.

Moyne (v. Moigne), 191.

Mucklebone.

- Henry Mucklebone, A.

Muckleman.

- Robert Muchulman, A.

Mule, 490.

- Roger le Mul, J.

Munday (v. Monday), 63.

- Edward Munday, F F.

Munk, 191.

- Beatrix le Munk, A.

- Peter le Munk, F F.

Munn, 191.

- Geoffrey le Moun, A.

- Thomas le Mun, A.

Muriel, 19.

- Muriel ad Fontem, A.

- Adam fil. Muriel, T.

Musard, 468.

- Malcolm le Musard, M.

Muskett, 493.

- Robert Musket, A.

- John Musket, D.

Mussele, 497.

- Nicholas le Musele, J.

Mustarder, 371.

- Richard le Mustarder, A.

- Robert le Mustarder, H.

- Thomas le Mustarder, X.

Mustardman, 371.

- Peter le Mustardman, A.

Mustardmaker, 371.

- Alicia Mustardmaker, W 2.

Mute, 468.

- Alan le Mute, A.

Mutter, 441.

- John le Mutare, A.

Mutton, 490.

- Philip le Mutton, B.

- Robert Mount, T.

Nail, 112.

- John Nail, Z.

- Thomas Naile, Z.

Nailor (v. Naylor), 282.

- John Naler, F.

Nalder, 111.

- John Nelder, H.

- Alice Attenalre, J.

Nale (v. Nail), 112.

Nall, 111.

Napery, 215.

- Walter de la Naperye, L.

Napier, 215.

- John le Naper, A.

- Robert le Naper, O.

- John le Naper, C.

Naples, Lewis of Naples, O.

Napper, 215.

- Jordan le Nappere, A.

- Robert Napparius, E.

Nash, 111.

- Sarra Atteneshe, B.

- Pagan atte Nash, B.

- William atte Nasche, M.

Nasmyth, 282.

- James Nasmite, W 9.

- John Naysmith, W 13.

Natkin (Nathaniel).

- Robert Natkyn, F F.

Naylor, 282.

- John le Naylere, R.

- Stephen le Naylere, X.

Nazareth, 103.

- Nazareth Rudde, Q Q.

Neave (v. Neve), 430.

- Robert Neave, Z.

Neck, 435.

- Henry Nekke, A.

Needlemaker, 342.

- John Nedlemakyere, M.

Needler, 342.

- Reginald le Nedlere, A.

- Richard le Nedlere, M.

Needyman, 431.

- John le Nedyman, B.

Neele, 73.

- Neel le Bret, E.

- Thomas Fitz-neele, M.

Neilson (v. Nelson).

- William Neilson, W 11.

Nell, 73.

- Nel Fawkes, A.

- John fil. Nel, A.

Nelmes, 111.

Nelson, 73.

- John fil. Nel, A.

- William Neleson, H.

- Thomas Nelson or Neilson, W 11.

Nend, 115.

- John atte Nende, B.

- Christopher Nend, W 11.

Nephew, 430.

- John Neveu, A.

- Richard le Nevu, E.

- Elias le Nevou, DD.

Ness (v. Nose), 125.

Nethercliffe, 124.

Neve, 430.

- Robert le Neve, M.

- Walter le Neve, E.

- Reyner le Neve, A.

Neville, 151.

- Orme de Neville, R.

- Walter de Nevill, E.

New, 145.

- Simon le Neue, A.

- Richard le Newe, A.

Newbond, 145, 254 n.

- Roger le Newbonde, A.

- Emma Newbonde, A.

Newcombe, 125.

Newcomen, 145.

- Gilbert le Neucomen, A.

- Robert le Neucomen, T.

Newlove, 474.

Newman, 145.

- Richard le Neuman, A.

- John le Neuman, M.

- Simon le Neweman, E.

Nicholas, 95.

- Nicholas le Chapeler, T.

- Nicholas le Hunte, A.

Nichol, Nicholls, Nicholson, 95.

- Henry fil. Nicholei, M.

- John Niccolson, Z Z.

- Nichol Crump, V 9.

Nickerson, 95.

Nicks (v. Nix), 95.

Nickson (v. Nixon), 95.

Nigel (v. Neele), 73.

- Simon fil. Nigel, A.

- Nigel fil. John, E.

Nightingale, 494.

- Robert Nitingal, A.

- Thomas Nightegale, R.

Ninepence, 513.

- John Ninepennies, W 9.

Nix (v. Nicholas), 95.

- Richard Nix, F F.

- Joan Nykkes, F F.

Nixon, 95.

- William fil. Nyck, M.

- Andrew Nyxson, W 9.

Noakes (v. Nokes), 111.

Noble, 463.

- Amice le Noble, A.

- Hugh le Noble, M.

Noblepas, 440.

- William Noblepas, M M.

Noel (v. Nowell), 62.

- Richard Noel, M.

- William Noel, B.

- Noel de Aubianis, A.

Nokes (v. Oakes), 111.

- Richard Attenok, B.

- William atte Noke, X.

- Richard atte Noke, P.

Norchard (v. Orchard), 111.

- Robert atte Norcharde, M.

- Richard Atenorchard, A.

Norfolk, 147.

- Thomas de Northfolch, M.

- Robert de Northfolk, A.

Norman

- (1), 158.

- Ralph le Norman, E.

- Mathew le Norman, A.

- (2), 158.

- Norman de Arcy, A.

- Roger fil. Norman, C.

Norrice (v. Nurse), 150.

- William Norrice, Z.

Norris, 150, 162.

- Robert le Norys, B.

- William le Noreis, E.

- Walter le Noreis, M.

North, 150.

- William de Northe, H.

- Henry North, M.

Northend, 114.

- Peter de Northende, A.

- William Northend, Z Z.

Northern, 150.

- Geoffrey le Northern, A.

- Thomas le Northern, M.

- John Northeron, H.

Northman, 150.

- William Northman, A.

- Robert Northman, A.

Nose, 125.

- Roger atte Ness, A.

Notman (v. Nott), 451.

- John Notman, W 11.

Nott, 451.

- Alice le Notte, A.

- Richard le Not, M.

- Henry le Not, J.

Noven, 111.

- Thomas atte-Novene, B.

Nowell (v. Noel), 62.

- Nowell Harper, X X 1.

Noyes, 154.

Nunn, 191.

- Alice le Nonne, A.

- Margaret Nunne, F F.

Nurse, 506.

- Maria le Noreyse, A.

- Thomas Nurse, B.

- Alicia le Noryce, B.

Nutbrown, 445.

- William Nutbrowne, Z.

- William Notbrone, W 11.

- George Nutbrowne, v. p. 445.

Nutmaker, 371.

- John Nutmaker, 371 n.

Nutman, 263.

- William Nuteman, A.

Nutt, 154.

Nuttard, 267.

- Richard le Netehird, M.

Nutter, 263.

- Christopher Nutter, Z Z.

Oake, 128.

- Thomas del Oke, A.

- Richard atte Oke, B.

Oakes, 128.

- Roger of the Okes, M.

- Philip del Okes, A.

Oakholt, 116.

- William de Okholte, B.

- William de Okolt, A.

Oakley, 119.

- Walter de Oclee, A.

- Simon de Akelegh, E.

Oakover, 128.

- Roger de Okovere, M.

- Alice de Okeovere, J.

Oakshot (v. Oakholt), 116.

Oakslade, 121.

- Michael de Ocslade, A.

Oastler (v. Ostler), 290.

Oatmonger (v. Mealmonger), 275.

- Denis le Otemonger, X.

Obedience, 103.

- Obedience Clerk, Q Q.

Oddiker, 134.

Odger.

- Alan fil. Oger, E.

- Roge fil. Oger, E.

- Oger fil. Oger, G G.

Offer, Offor, (v. Orfevre), 400.

- William le Orfeure, R.

- Richard Orfer, F.

Ogden, 118.

- William de Hogdene, A.

- John Ogden, Z Z.

Ointer (v. Hointer), 386, 263.

- Michael le Oynter, X.

Oker, 113.

- Thomas Oker, B.

- Henry Oker, A.

Old (v. Ould), 431.

Oldacre, 134.

Oldbeof, 500.

- William Oldbeof, B.

- Walter Oyldebeof, X.

Oldgroom, 505.

- Henry Eldegrome, O.

- John Eldegrom, O.

Oldman, 433.

- Walran Oldman, A.

- Richard Oldeman, M.

Oliphant, Olivant, 487.

Oliver, 38.

- Oliver Crane, A.

- Jordan Olyver, H.

- Oliver de Eyncurt, A.

Oliverson, 38.

- Philip fil. Oliver, A.

- Simon fil. Oliver, A.

Ollier (v. Oliver), 38.

Ollivant, 487.

Olver (v. Oliver), 38.

Olyfader, 511.

Onehand, 441.

- William Onhand, B.

- John Onehand, D.

Onesiphorus, 102.

- Onesiphorus Kittie, Q Q.

Openshaw, 117.

- Samuel Openshawe, Z Z.

Orbater, 400.

- Walter le Orbater, A.

Orchard, 111, 133.

- John de la Orcharde, A.

- Richard atte Orcheyerd, G.

Orcharder, 261.

Ordeiner, 179 n.

- John le Ordeiner, M.

- Stephen Ordinar, M.

Orfevre, 400.

- John le Orfevre, A.

- Roger le Orfevre, M.

Orfroiser, 346.

- John Orfroiser, H.

Organer, 312.

- Peter le Organer, M.

- Adam Orgener, 312 n.

Orger, 312.

- Robert Orger, M.

- Matilda Oregare, A.

Orlando (v. Roland), 38.

Orloger, 401.

- Walter Orlogyr, S.

- Bartholomew the Orologius.

Orme, 25.

- William Orm, A.

- Ormus Archebragge, R.

Ormerod, 25, 120.

- Peares Armerod, Z Z.

- Richard Ormerode, Z Z.

Ormesby, 25.

- Richard Ormesbye, Z.

- Henry Ormesby, Z.

Ormeson, 25.

- Alice fil. Orme, A.

- Adam fil. Orme, R.

- John fil. Orm, W 19.

Orped, 466.

- Stephen le Horpede, A.

- William le Orpede, A.

Orpedman, 466.

- Thomas Orpedeman, A.

- Peter Orpedeman, E.

Orphanstrange, 430.

- John Orphanstrange, 430 n.

Osbald, 23.

Osbert, 23.

- Osbert de Bellebeck, R.

- Osbert le Ferrur, A.

- William fil. Osbert, C.

Osborne, 23.

- Gerard fil. Oseberne, A.

- Osborne le Haukere, H.

Os-ceytl, 24.

- Oscetyl, v. p. 24.

Osgood, John

- Osegod, A.

- John Osegode, R.

Oskell (v. Osketyl), 25.

- Oskell Somenour, A A 3.

Osketyl (v. Oscetyl), 24.

- Osketyl, p. 24.

Osler, 290.

- Reginald le Osiler, T.

- Godfrey le Hoselur, A.

Osmond, Osmund, 23.

- Nicholas Osemund, A.

- Richard Osmund, M.

Ostler (v. Osler), 290.

- Ralph le Hostiler, A.

- Richard le Hosteler, M.

- William le Ostiller, J.

Ostricer (v. Astrier), 241.

- Robert le Ostricer, A.

- Alan le Ostrizer, L.

- William le Ostricer, T.

Oswald, 23.

- John Oswald, M.

Oswin, 23.

- Oswin Ogle, W 9.

Otter, 489.

- Alan Otere, A.

- Edward Oter, A.

Ould, 431.

- John le Olde, M.

Outlaw, 182 n.

- William Outlawe, V 9.

- John Outlagh, M.

- Richard Utlawe, A.

Over, 127.

- Richard de Overe, A.

- Lucas de Overe, M.

Overend, 114, 128.

- William de Overende, A.

- Michael de Overende, A.

Overman, 128.

Owen, 12.

- Richard fil. Owen, A.

- Alan Owayn, A.

Oxenden, 118.

- Alice de Oxenden, B.

- Ivo de Oxinden, M.

Oxenherd, 267.

- Thomas Oxenhyrde, W 3.

- John Oxenhyrde, W 3.

Oxherd, 267.

- Peter Oxhird, W 2.

Oxlee, Oxley, 119.

Oysiler, 241.

- Walter le Oyselur, T.

- William le Oysellur, E.

- Idonea le Oyselur, A.

Packer, 298.

- Mathew le Pakkere, D.

- Adam le Packer, M.

- William le Packere, J.

Packman, 296, 298.

- Agnes Pakeman, B.

- Robert Pakeman, T.

Padman, 293.

Padre, 430.

- Ralph le Padre, M.

Pagan, 33.

- Pagan a la Legh, A.

- Pagan de la Hale, A.

- Roger fil. Pagan, A.

Page, 215.

- John le Page, M.

- William le Page, B B.

Paillard, 479.

Pain, Paine, (v. Pagan), 33.

- Robert fil. Pain, A.

- Pain del Ash, M.

- Robert Pain, E.

Painter, 251.

- William le Painter, M.

- Henry le Peintur, E.

Palfrey, 490.

- Thomas Palfrei, A.

- Richard Palefray, A.

Palfreyer, 220, 285.

- Gill Palfreur, A.

- Roger le Palefreyour, W 2.

Palfreyman, 220, 285.

- John le Palfreyman, M.

- Robert Palfreyman, A.

Palfriman (v. Palfreyman), 220, 285.

- Clement Palfryman, F F.

Pallard, 479.

Pallet, 459.

Palliser, 258.

- John Pallyser, W 9.

- Thomas Palysar, W 9.

Pallister, 258.

- William Pallyster, W 9.

- John Palyster, W 9.

- Robert Paylyster, W 11.

Palmer, 195.

- Hervey le Palmer, A.

- Geoffrey le Palmere, B.

- John le Paumer, M.

Pannier, 368.

- Simon le Pannier, F F.

- Jordan Pannare, A.

- Editha Panier, A.

Panter, Panther, Pantler, 210.

- Richard le Paneter, C.

- Robert le Panter, A.

- Geoffrey le Paneter, G.

Pantry, 136, 210.

- John de la Paneterie, A.

- Henry de la Paneterie, M.

Panyer, 368.

- Robert le Pannere, H.

- Amisius Panarius, A.

- Richard Panyere, H.

Panyman, 368.

- Godfrey Panyman, H.

Pape, 173.

- Hugh le Pape, J.

- William le Pape, T.

Parchmenter, 405.

- William Parchmentar, P P.

Parchmyner, 405.

- John le Parchmyner, B.

- Hamo le Parchemener, L.

- Christiana le Parchemyner, G.

- Geoffrey le Parcheminer, J.

Pardew, 510.

- John Pardieu, H.

Pardie (v. Pardew), 510.

Pardoe (v. Pardew), 510.

Pardoner, 195.

- Walter le Pardoner, M.

- Thomas Pardoner, O.

Pardow (v. Pardew), 510.

Parent, 430.

- John Parent, A.

- William Parent, P.

Parfay (v. Purefoy), 467.

- Geoffrey Parfay, H.

- Eudo Parfey, A.

Parfitt, 467.

- Robert Parfyte, B.

- Robert Parfite, H.

Pargeter, Pargiter, 250.

- William Pargeter, Z.

- Robert Pergiter, Z.

- Elizabeth Pergetor, F F.

Paris.

- John de Parys, B.

- Simon de Paris, M.

Parke, 231.

- Roger atte Parke, M.

- John del Parc, A.

Parker, 231.

- Hamo le Parkere, B.

- Robert le Parkere, G.

- Adam le Parkere, M.

Parkes, 89.

- Edward Parkes, Z.

- John Parkes, Z.

Parkin, Parkins, 89.

- William Parkyns, H.

- John Parkynne, F F.

Parkinson, 89.

- Ann Parkinson, W 9.

- Roger Parkinson, Z.

- James Parkyngson, W 3.

Parkman, 231.

Parlebien.

- Richard Parlebien, M.

- Hervey Parleben, A.

Parlour, 136.

- Henry del Parlur, B.

- Richard ate Parlur, M.

- William Parlour, W 19.

Parmenter, Parminter, 339.

- Geoffrey le Parmunter, A.

- Saher le Parmentier, H.

- Hamo le Parmenter, T.

Parmiter, 339.

- William le Parmeter, M.

- Richard le Parmuter, A.

Parnall, Parnell, (v. Petronilla), 19, 66.

- Parnel de la Le, A.

- Parnell Cotton, Z.

Parr, 88.

Parramore, 477.

- Roger Paramour, M.

- Henry Parramore, Z.

Parrat, 88, 494.

- William Parrat, Z.

- Ralph Parratt, Z.

Parrott, 88, 494.

- John Parrott, Z.

- Alice Parrott, Z.

- John Parot, W 11.

Parry, 51.

- Thomas ap-Harry, D.

- Hugh ap-Harrye, Z.

- Watkin ap-Parry, Z.

Parson

- (1), 88.

- Robert Parson, V 10.

- John Paressone, F F.

- (2), 187.

- William Persona, A.

- Walter le Persone, H.

Partrick, 494.

- William Partricke, Z.

Partridge, 494.

- Richard Partriche, A.

- Ancelm Partrich, M.

Pascal, 62.

- Pascall Sloman, Z.

- Pascal the Physician, O.

Paschal, 62.

- Paschal Balistarius, E.

- Paschal de Arnold, H.

Paschal-Lamb, 509.

Pascheson (v. Paschal).

- Antony Pascheson, F F.

- Hugh fil. Pasche, A.

Pash, 62.

- John Passhe, F.

- Hugh fil. Pasche, A.

Pask, Paske, 62.

- Alice Pascke, F F.

- Paskinus Mercator, C.

- John Pask, A.

Passavant, 218.

- Roger Passavant, E.

- William Passavaunt, H.

Pastemaker, 364.

- Gregory le Pastemakere, X.

- John le Pastemakere, M.

Paternoster, 341.

- William le Paternoster, X.

- John Paternoster, A.

Patience, 103.

- Edward Patience, Q Q.

Patient, 463.

Pattener, 352.

- Robert Patener, W 11.

Pattenmaker, 352.

- James Patynmakere, S.

Paul, 96.

- Paulinus de Bointon, A.

Paulett, 97.

- John Paulett, H.

- Anne Pawlett, Z.

Paulson, 97.

Pauper, 430.

- Mathew le Pauper, A.

- William le Pauper, A.

Pavier, 278, n.

- Gerard le Pavier, E.

Pawlett, 97.

- Isabel Pawlett, B.

- Amys Pawlet, H.

Pawson, 96.

- William Pavison, V

- William Pawson, W 13.

Paxman, 298.

- Roger Paxman, F F.

Payn, Payne, 33.

- Payen le Doubbour, N.

- Payn le Fitz-waryn, M.

- Elis le Fitz-payn, M.

Paynett, Paynot, (v. Payn), 33.

- John Paynett, Z.

- Henry Paynot, A.

- Emma Paynot, W 2.

Paynter, 251.

- Roger le Peyntur, T.

- Walter le Peyntur, J.

Pe (v. Peacock), 493.

- Richard le Pe, A.

Peacock, 144, 493.

- Henry Pecock, A.

- John Pekok, H.

Peachman, 261.

- Daniel Peachman, F F.

Pearce (v. Piers), 88.

- Robert Pearce, Z.

Pearman, 261.

- Antony Pereman, Z.

Pears, (v. Piers), 88.

- Peares Armerod, Z Z.

- John Pears, Z.

Pearse (v. Piers), 88.

- Pearse Clement, Z.

- Pearse Edgcombe, Z.

Pearson, 88.

- Edward Pereson, F.

- John Peyrson, F.

- John Peresone, H.

Peascod, 333 n., 485.

- Godwin Pescodde, F F.

- Nicholas Pescodde, Z.

Peate, 432.

Pecheress, 274.

- Agnes la Pecheresse, A.

Pecheur, 274.

- Walter le Pecheur, A.

Pecimer (v. Pessoner).

- Ralf le Pecimer, F F.

Peckbean, 483.

- William Peckebene, A.

Peckbone, 483.

- Thomas Pikebone, W 11.

Peckcheese, 483.

- Alice Peckechese, A.

Pecksniff, 483.

Peckweather, 483.

- Ralph Peckewether, A.

Peddar, Pedder, 293.

- Martin le Peddere, A.

- Hugh le Pedder, M.

Pedifer, 437.

- Bernard Pedefer, G.

- Fulbert Pedefer, X.

- William Pedefer, E.

Pedlar, Pedler, 293.

- William Pedeleure, M.

- Thomas le Pedeler, DD.

Pedman, 293.

- William Pedman (Pipe Roll. Ric. 1).

Peel

- (1), 452.

- Thomas le Pele, M.

- Hugh le Pele, T.

- (2), 452.

- Roger of the Peele, 452 n.

- Robart of ye Peele, 452 n.

Peers (v. Piers), 88.

- Richard Peers, F.

- Alice Peres, H.

Peersdaughter.

- Isabella Peersdoghter, W 15.

- Isolda Peersdoghter, W 15.

Peerson (v. Pearson), 88.

- Thomas Peerson, F.

- Laurence Perysson, H.

Peile (v. Peel), 452.

Peirs (v. Piers), 88.

Peirson (v. Pearson), 88.

- William Peirson.

Peiser (v. Poyser), 411.

Pelerin, 195.

- Simon Pellerin, A.

- William le Pelerin, E.

Pelkeshank, 438.

- Thomas Pelkeshanke, X.

Pelliper, 345.

- Joan Pellipar, F F.

- Miles Pellipare, A.

- Simon Pelliparius, A.

Pelter, 345.

- Adam le Peleter, A.

- John le Peleter, G.

- Reyner le Peleter, M.

Pender, 235.

- William le Pendere, N.

Penfold, 132.

- Agnes atte Punfald, A.

Pennigar, Penniger, 200.

- Thomas le Penniger, E.

- William le Pennager, E.

Penny, 513.

- Robert Peny, M.

- Richard Peny, H.

Pennyfather, 482.

- Robert Penifader, R.

- Richard Penifadir, A.

- Roger Penyfader, X.

Pennypurse, 482.

- Aluric Penipurs (Domesday).

Penry (v. Parry), 51.

- John Ap-Henry, 51 n.

Pentecost, 62.

- Pentecost de London, E.

- Pentecost Serviius, E.

- John Pentecost, A.

Pepper, 371.

- John le Peper, H.

- Martin Peper, A.

Peppercorn, 485.

- Geoffrey Peppercorn, A.

Percy, 151.

- Henry de Percy, A.

- William de Percy, A.

Perfect (v. Parfitt), 463.

Perfect-Sparrow, 508.

Perkes, Perks, (v. Perkins), 88.

- Edmund Perke, F F.

- Thomas Perkes, Z.

Perkins, 88.

- Perkin Snode, Z.

- Perekin de Camera, E.

- Adam Perkyn, H.

Perkinson, 88.

- Robert Perkynson, F.

- William Perkinson, W 9.

Perler, 341.

- Thomas le Perler, X.

- William Pirler, W 2.

Pernell (v. Parnell), 66.

- Pernel Clere, A.

- Pernell Boulton, Z.

Perot (v. Perrott), 89 n.

Perrer, 261.

- Josceus le Perrer, E.

- William le Perier, E.

Perret, 89.

- Simon Peret, M.

- Thomas Perret, H.

Perriman, 261.

- William Peryman, A.

- Arthur Peryman, Z.

Perren, Perrin, 16, 89.

- Peryn, A A 2.

Perrott, 89.

- Perot Gruer, H.

- Henry Perot, M.

Pessoner, 376.

- William le Pessoner, A.

- Henry le Pessoner, C.

- Richard le Pessoner, M.

Pessur, 274.

- Richard le Pessur, A.

- Hugh le Pesour, J.

- Godard le Pescher, T.

Pestur, 364.

- Herman le Pestur, A.

- Walter le Pestur, B.

- Richard le Pestour, M.

Peter, 88.

- Peter fil. Warin, M.

- Herebert fil. Petri, T.

Peterkin (v. Perkin), 88.

Peterson, 88.

- Walter fil. Peter, A.

- Adam fil. Petri, C.

Peticurteis.

- Walter Peticurteis, A.

- William Petitkorteys, A.

Petifer (v. Pedifer), 437.

- William Pettifer, F F.

Petitjean (v. Littlejohn), 503.

Petitpas, 440.

- John Petypase, W 11.

- Thomas Petitpas, M M.

Petitsire, 507.

- Warin Petitsire, K.

Petronilla, 19, 66.

- Simon fil. Petronille, A.

- Nicholas fil. Petronelle, C.

- Petronil le Saucer, G.

Pettifer (v. Pedifer), 437.

Pettitt, 432.

- Hamo le Petit, A.

- Emma la Petite, T.

- Richard le Petit, C.

Pettovine, 159.

- Peter le Pettovin, B.

- Robert le Peytevine, N.

Petty, Pettye, 432.

- Simon Pette, A.

- Hugh Pety, A.

Petyclerk, 508.

- Richard Petyclerk, M.

- William Peticlerk, H.

- John Peticlerk, W 2.

Petygard.

- Richard Petygard, F F.

Petyson (v. Peterson), 88.

- William Petyson, F F.

Pewter, Pewterer, Pewtrer, 392.

- Henry Pewterer, Z Z.

- William Peuterere, S.

Pheasant, 494.

- William Phesant, Z.

- James Phesaunte, Z Z.

- Robert Fesant, A.

Phelps (v. Philps), 90.

- John Phelpes, Z.

Philcox, 90.

Philemon, 100.

- Philemon Powell, T T.

Philip, Philips, 90.

- John Phelip, M.

- Sibill fil. Philippi, T.

- Philip le Grant, T.

Philipson, 90.

- Thomas fil. Philip, M.

- Christofer Philipson, Z Z.

Phillot, 90.

Phillpot (v. Philpot), 90.

Philps (v. Philips), 90.

- John Philpe, Z.

Philpot, 90.

- Thomas Phylypotte, B.

- John Philipot, N.

- John Philypot, H.

Phipps, Phipson, 90.

- William Phippes, H.

- Thomas Phippes, Z.

Picard, Pickard, 159.

- Milo Pichard, M.

- Colin le Picart, B B.

- Baldwin Pickard, A.

Pickavant (v. Prikeavant), 450.

Pickerell, 497.

- German Pikerel, H.

- Sabina Pikerel, A.

Picot (v. Pigott).

Pidgeon, 494.

- Richard Pigun, A.

- Honore Pidgeon, Z.

Pierce, 88.

- Pierse Lloyd, Z.

- Pierce Butler, Z.

Piers, 88.

- Pierres de Belegrave, M.

- Piers Emerik, H.

Pierson, 88.

- John Pierson, F.

- Mathew Pierson, H.

Pigg, 491.

- John Pyg, H.

- Walter Pigge, A.

Pigman, 270.

- Jordan Pigman (Pipe Roll. Ric. I.).

- John Pegeman, A.

Pigott.

- Peter Pykot, R.

- Robert Pigot, A.

Pigsflesh, 499.

- Reyner Piggesflesh, M.

Pike, 459, 497.

- Richard Pyke, M.

- Randal Pike, Z Z.

Pikeman, 222.

- Thomas Pikeman, R.

- Giles Pykeman, X.

Pilate (v. Pilot).

Pilchard, 497.

- Robert Pilchard, Y.

Pilcher, 345.

- Hugh le Pilecher, A.

- John Pilcher, G.

Pilgrim, 195.

- John Pilegrim, A.

- Alice Pilgrim, Z.

Pilot.

- Iveta Pilate, J.

- William Pilot, J.

- Walter Pilat, A.

Pimple.

Pinchpenny, 482.

Pinchshoe, 440.

- Thomas Pinchshu, A.

Pindar, Pinder, 235.

- John le Pinder, E.

- Henry le Pynder, M.

- John le Pindere, T.

Pinfold (v. Penfold), 132.

Pinner, 320, 342.

- Andrew le Pynner, G.

- Walter le Pinner, X.

Pinnick, Pinnock, 495.

- John Pynnok, G.

- Richard Pinnoc, A.

Pinsemaille, 483.

Pinson, 34.

- Elias fil. Pagani, M.

- Robert Pynson, H.

- John Penyson, V 11.

- William Penison, V 3.

Piper, 309.

- Robert le Pipere, M.

- Richard le Pipere, M.

- Arnald le Pyper, P.

Pitkins, 90.

Pitt.

- Robert in the Pyt, M.

- Nicholas de la Putte, A.

Plaister, Plaisterer, Plaster, 250.

- John le Cementarius, B.

- Adam le Plastier, X.

- Joanna Plaisterer, W 13.

- William Plaisterer, W 13.

Plastow, 132.

- Robert atte Pleistowe, A.

- Nicolas de la Pleystowe, A.

Plater, 223.

- Anna Playter, V.

- Walter Playter, A.

Platfoot, 440.

- Margaret Platfoot, F F.

Platt

- (1), 122.

- Roger del Plat, J.

- (2),

- Roger le Plat, H.

Player, 305.

- Arthur Player, Z.

Playfair, 475.

- William Plaifare, W 9.

Pleader, 180.

- Alured le Pledur, T.

- Henry le Pleidour, A.

Plow, 144.

- John Plu, A.

- John Plough, F F.

Plowday, 63.

- William Plouday, A.

Plowman, 256.

- John le Plouman, A.

- John le Ploghman, A.

Plowright, 277.

- William le Plowritte, A.

- William le Ploughwryte, M.

- Catharine Ploughwright, W 2.

Plowstaff, 462.

- Thomas Ploghstaf, W 11.

Pluckrose, 485.

- Roger Pluckrose.

Plumber.

- John le Plumber, O.

Plumer, 336.

- Peter le Plomer, M.

- Eleyn Plomier, H.

- Mariot le Plumer, T.

Plummer, 336.

- Simon le Plummer, O.

- Walter Plummer, Z.

Plumptree, Plumtree, 129

Plunket, 454.

Pockred, 445.

- Thomas Pockred, A.

Pocock, 493.

- William Pocock, M.

- Geoffrey Pococ, A.

Poer, 430.

- Arnald le Poer, M.

- Walter le Poer, E.

- Nicholas le Poer, A.

Poignant, 465.

- Gilbert Poygnant, J.

Pointdexter, 511.

- J. Poyndexter, 511 n.

Pointer, 347.

- John le Poyntour, B.

- Robert le Poyntour, T.

Pointmaker, 347.

- William Poyntmakere, S.

Pollard, 451.

- Henry Pollard, M.

- William Polard, A.

Pollinger (v. Bollinger), 364.

- William Pallinger, Z.

Pollitt (v. Paulett), 97.

- James Polet, O.

Polson (v. Powlson), 80, 96.

Pond.

- Sewal atte Ponde, M.

- Thomas atte Ponde, B.

Pontifex, 173.

Pontiff, 174.

- Richard Puntif, A.

Poore, 430.

- Roger le Povere, A.

- William le Poure, B.

- Robert le Poor, R.

Poorfish, 500.

- John Pourfisshe, M.

Pope, 173.

- Hugh le Pope, A.

- Alan le Pope, A.

Popgay, Popingay, Popinjay, 228, 494.

- Robert Popingeay, F F.

- Richard Popingay, T T.

Popkins (v. Hopkins).

- Hopkyn ap Popkin, Z.

Poplett, 475.

Poppett, 475.

Porcher, 270.

- Emma la Porcher, A.

- Roger la Porcher, B.

- Gilbert le Porcher, H.

Pork, 491.

- John Pork, M.

Porkeller, 270.

- Geoffrey le Porkuiller, E.

Porker, 270.

- John le Porker, A.

- Thomas le Porkere, A.

Port.

- Charles le Port, B B.

- Oliva le Port, B B.

Porter, 204.

- Alan le Porteur, E.

- Albin le Portour, N.

- Wybert le Porteur, L.

Portgreeve (v. Portreeve), 233.

Porthorse, 490.

- John Portehors, V 8.

- Ralph Portehors, V 8.

Portman.

- Christina Portman, B.

- William Portman, H.

Portreeve, 233.

- William le Portreve, A.

- Augustin le Portreve, A.

Portwine, 159.

- Presiosa Potewyne, A.

- Henry le Poytevin, J.

- Peter le Pettevin, L.

Potipher (v. Pedifer), 437.

Potkin, 90.

- Thomas Potkin, H H.

Potman, 393.

- Thomas Potman, F F.

- Henry Poteman, H.

Potter, 393.

- Ranulph le Poter, A.

- Walter le Potere, N.

- Adam le Potter, M.

Potticary, 382.

- William Apotecarius, A.

Pottinger, 207.

- Robert le Potager, G.

- Walter le Potager, M.

- John Potenger, F.

Potts, 90, 144.

- Roger Potts, W 16.

- Deborah Potts, W 16.

Poucher, 348, 398.

- Henry Poucher, B.

Pouchmaker, 348, 397.

- William Pouchemaker, H.

- Agnes Pouchemaker, W 2.

Poulet (v. Paulett), 97.

Poulter (v. Pulter), 376.

Pounder, 235.

- Richard le Pundere, T.

- William le Pondere, A.

Poundsend, 114.

- John de Poundesend, D.

Pourtrayer.

- Richard le Pertriur, W 4.

- Geoffrey le Purtreour, X.

Powell, 13, 97.

- Elizabeth Ap-Howell, B.

- John Ap-Howell, D.

- John Ap-Powell, F.

Power, 430.

- Thomas le Power, B.

- William le Povere, H.

- Walter le Powere, M.

Powlett (v. Paulett), 97.

Powlson, 96.

- Geoffray Poulson, Z.

- Alberte Powlson, Z.

- James Poulson, W 16.

Poyntel, 401.

- John Poyntel, X.

- Roger Poyntel, X.

Poynter (v. Pointer), 347.

- Thomas le Poyntour, M.

- Vasse le Poyntur, A.

Poyser, 411.

- Josceus le Peisur, DD.

Prail, 154.

- William de Prahell, E.

Praise-God-barebones, 102.

Prall (v. Prail), 154.

Preacher, 191.

- Thomas le Prechur, T.

- John le Precheur, A.

- Jacob Preacher, W 20.

Preece, 12.

- Hopkin ap Rees, C.

- Robert Prees, H.

Prentice, Prentis, 382.

- William le Prentiz, G.

- Nicholas Apprenticius, G.

Prest, 467.

- Peter le Prest, M.

- Walter le Prest, H.

Prester, 187.

- Joseus Presbiter, B.

- Thomas le Prestre, A.

- Richard le Presture, F F.

Prettiman, 443.

- William Prettiman, F F.

- Katharine Prettyman, Z.

Pretty, 443.

- Edmond Prettie, Z.

- Thomas Prettye, Z.

Prevost (v. Provost), 185.

Prew, 466.

- William le Prue, B.

Price, 12.

- Philip ap Rys, C.

- Lodovicus Apprise, F.

- John Apryce, F.

Prickadvance (v. Prikeavant), 450.

Prickett, 489.

- Richard Priket, M.

Prickherring.

- John Prikehering, A.

Pricktoe, 440.

- Peter Pricktoe, M.

Pride, 464, 476.

- Richard Pride, T.

- Roger Pryde, R.

Pridham, 477.

- William Prodhomme, R.

- Peter Prodhomme, A.

Priest (v. Prest), 187.

- Thomas Preest, A.

Priestman, 187.

- Robert Prestman, A.

- George Prestman, W 9.

Priestson, 65.

- William le Prestessone, G.

- Simon fil. Presbiter, A.

Prikeavant, 450.

- William Prikeavant, A.

- Simon Prickadvance (Lower’s Dic.)

Primate, 187.

- William Primate, F F.

Primrose, 485.

- Richard Primerose, F F.

- Robert Primerose, F F.

Prince, 174.

- Ellice Prince, Z.

- Jeffrey Prynce, Z.

Prior, 191.

- Roger le Priour, B.

- Richard le Prior, A.

- William le Priur, E.

Priorman, 188.

- Symon Priorman, W 15.

- Agnes Priorman, W 18.

Pritchard, 12.

- John Aprichard, F.

- Ivo Ap-Richard, G.

Probert, 12, 39.

- Lloyd ap-Robert, Z Z.

- Ellice ap-Robert, Z.

Probyn, 39.

- William ap Robyn, H.

- William Ap-robyn, X X 1.

Proctor.

- William le Procurator, R.

- John le Procuratour, D.

Prodger, 12, 40.

- Roger Aproger, Z Z.

Properjohn, 46, 503.

Prophet.

- John Prophete, V 2.

Prosser, 13.

- David ap-Rosser, F.

- Robert ap-Rosser, H.

- John Approsser, Z.

Proud, 464, 476.

- Hugh le Proud, A.

- Robert le Proude, DD.

- Lewis Prowd, V 7.

Proudfoot, 440, 464, 476.

- Robert Prudefot, A.

- William Proudfot, H.

Proudman, 476.

Proudlove, 476.

- Peter Proudlove, F F.

- George Proudelove, Z Z.

Prout, 476.

- Thomas le Prute, A.

- John le Prute, H.

- Cristina le Prute, A.

Proutpiere, 504.

- William Proutepiere, M.

Provence, Province, 159.

Provis, Provost, 185.

- Geoffrey le Provost, H.

- Walter le Provost, J.

Provostson, 65.

- Robert fil. Provost, T.

Pruce, 163.

- Hugh le Pruz, M.

- William le Pruz, J.

Prudame (v. Pridham), 477.

Prude, 464, 476.

- Elias le Prude, A.

- William le Prude, T.

Pruden, 477.

Prudence, 103.

- Richard Prudence, F F.

- Prudence Spenser, W 14.

Prudhomme, 477, 507.

- John Prudhome, A.

- William Prodhomme, H.

- John Prudhome, M.

Prujean, 46, 503.

- Anne Prujean, V 10.

- Francis Prujan, V 5.

Pryor (v. Prior), 191.

- Robert Pryer, A.

Pudding, 431.

- Peter Pudding, A.

- Henry Pudding, X.

Pugh, 12.

- Morice Apew, H.

Puigneur, Puinnur, 320.

- Robert le Puigneur, C.

- William le Pugneor, C.

- Robert le Puinnur, E.

Pulter, 376.

- Osbert le Puleter, A.

- Adam le Poleter, M.

Pumphrey, 12.

- John ap Houmfrey, Z.

- Humfrey ap Humfrey, Z.

Punch.

- Roger Punch, T.

- Robert Punche, A.

Punshon, 144.

- Elizabeth Puncheon, W 13.

Purcell, 491.

- John Purcel, M.

- Roger Purcell, J.

Purefoy, 467.

- Arthur Purejoy, F F.

Puregold, 428.

- Margaret Puregold, F F.

Purfey (v. Purefoy), 467.

Purser, 348, 398.

- William Purser, D.

- Robert le Pursere, G.

Pursuivant.

- Thomas Pursevaunt, V 7.

- Faulcon Pursevaunt, X X 1.

Puttinger (v. Pottinger).

- Robert Pewtinger, Z.

Puttock, 493.

- Richard Puttak, A.

- Letice Puttoc, A.

Pyatt, 494.

Pycard (v. Picard), 159.

- Henry Pykard, M.

- Roger Pycard, H.

Pye, 494.

- William Pye, M.

- John le Pie, A.

Pyebaker, 364.

- Andrew le Pyebakere, X.

Pyet, Pyett, 494.

Pylch, 457.

- Symon Pylche, A.

Pyletok, 457.

- Thomas Pyletok, A.

Quaint, 471, 507.

- Margaret le Coynte, B.

- Richard le Queynte, B.

- Michael le Queynt, M.

Quarrier, 249.

- Adam le Quarreur, M.

- Hugh le Quareur, A.

Quarterman, 437.

- Guy Quatreman, B.

- Richard Catermayn, H.

- Thomas Quatermains, M.

Quatrefages, 129.

Queen, 174.

- Matilda le Quen, A.

- Simon Quene, A.

Queenmay 176 n.

- Warin le Quene-may, E.

Querdelynn, 499.

- Ralph Querdelynn, T.

- William Querdelion, X.

Quick, 465.

- Robert Quic, A.

- Richard Quicke, Z.

Quickly, 465.

Quickman, 465.

- Adam Quikeman, A.

- Thomas Quikman, M.

Quilter, 358.

- Egidius le Quylter, J.

- Thomas le Queylter, T.

- Richard le Quilter, A.

Quiltmaker, 358.

- John Quyltemaker, H.

Raff (v. Ralf), 36.

- Amice Raffe, A.

- Raffe Barton, Z.

Raffman, 355.

- John Raffman, 356.

Raffson (v. Raff), 36.

- Peter Raffson, Z Z.

Ragg, 431.

Ragged, Raggett, 431.

- Robert le Ragidde, A.

- Thomas le Raggede, B.

Ragman.

- Richard Ragman, A.

Rain, 495.

- Robert le Rain, J.

- William le Rain, J.

Raines, Rains, 169.

- Richard de Rennes, B.

- William de Rainis, E.

Rakestraw, 483.

- William Rakestraw, W 11.

Ralf, Ralph, 36.

- Ralph le Gras, B.

- Ralph fil. Ivo, T.

- John Radulfus, A.

Ram

- (1), 145, 485.

- Thomas atte Ram, N.

- Hugh de Ram, A.

- (2), 485.

- Geoffrey le Ram, A.

- Jocelin le Ram, T.

Ramage, 484.

- William Ramage, B.

Ramsden, 118.

- Geoffrey de Ramesden, A.

- Adam de Rammesdene, A.

Ramshaw, 117.

- William Ramshaw (Court of High Com. Sur. Soc.).

- John Ramshaw, W 16.

Randle, Randall, (v. Ralph), 37.

- Randal Wylmyslow, V 11.

- Randle de la Mill, A.

- Randulf Cissor, A.

Ranger, 232.

- Francis Ranger, Z.

- Robert Ranger, Z.

Rankin, 41.

- Gilbert Renekyn, A.

- Richard Reynkyn, H.

Ranson (v. Rankin), 41.

- Thomas Ranson, W 20.

Raper (v. Roper), 399.

- William Raper, W 9.

Rapkin, 37.

Rapson, 37.

- John Rapson, Z.

Rascal, 488.

- John Raskele, H.

- Henry Rascall, Z.

- Maria Rascall, R R 1.

Rash.

- Roger le Resh, F F.

Ratcliffe, 124.

- Richard de Radeclive, R.

- William de Radeclive, A.

Ratt, 493.

- Walter le Rat, J.

- Nicholas le Rat, A.

Rattlebag, 501.

- John Rattilbagge, A.

Raton, 493.

- Ralph Ratun, A.

Raven, 494.

- John Raven, B.

- Alexander Raven, H.

Rawes, 37.

- Roger Rawe, Z.

- Humfrey Rawe, Z.

Rawkins, 37.

- Joane Rawkyns, Z.

- Walter Rawkyns, Z.

Rawlings, Rawlins, 37.

- Raulyn de la Fermerie, M.

- Raulina de Briston, F F.

- Raulinus Bassett, E.

Rawlingson, Rawlinson, 37.

- Robert Rawlyngson, Z Z.

- John Rawlynson, F.

Rawson, 37.

- John Rawson, F.

- Dionysia Rawson, W 2.

Ray, 488.

- Reginald le Raye, A.

- Philip le Rey, E.

Rayden, 118.

Reade, 445.

- Roger le Rede, C.

- Adam le Rede, H.

Reader, 247.

- William le Redere, X.

- Emma le Redere, A.

Receiver.

- Richard le Receyvour, A A 3.

- Ric le Recevour, W 15.

Red, 445.

- William le Red, N.

- Isabel le Red, A.

Redbeard, 449.

- Alexander Redbeard, 449 n.

Redclerk, 506.

- John le Redeclerk, V 9.

Redcliffe, 124.

- Thomas de Radcliff, H.

Redhead, 447.

- John Redheved, A.

- William Redehead, W 2.

- Thomas Readhead, W 20.

Redherring, 500.

- William Redherring, M.

Redking, 505.

- Richard Redeking, A.

- Walter Redeking, A.

Redman, 445.

- Robert Redeman, A.

- John Redman, A.

- Brian Redman, W 16.

Redmayne, 125.

- William Redmaine, W 16.

- Adam de Redmayne, H.

Redness, 125.

- John Redness, W 9.

- Thomas Redness, W 2.

Redsmith (v. Rodesmith), 281.

Reece (v. Rees), 12.

Reed, 445.

- Hamo le Rede, A.

- Amabilla la Rede, A.

Rees, 12.

- Hopkin ap Rees, C.

- Henry fil. Reys, A.

- Rees ap Howell, M.

Reeve, 233.

- John le Reve, M.

- Sager le Reve, H.

- Thomas le Reve, J.

Reformation, 102.

Reginald, 18, 41.

- Roysia fil. Reginald, A.

- Reginald le Porter, J.

Reid (v. Reade), 445.

Religious, 190.

- Walter le Religieuse, E.

Renard (v. Reynard), 41, 489.

Renaud

- (1), 41.

- Adam fil. Reinaud, A.

- Renaud Balistarius, C.

- (2), 489.

- John le Renaud, H.

Rennison (v. Reynerson), 41.

- Anne Rennison, W 14.

- Thomas Rennison, W 20.

- William Renyson, F.

Repentance, 103.

- Repentance Tompson, Q Q.

Replenish, 103.

- Replenish French, 103.

Reuter, 201.

- Thomas le Reuter, H.

- Ranulph le Ruter, J.

- Adam le Ruter, E.

Revetour, 189 n.

- Will. le Revetour, W 11.

- Joan Revetour, W 11.

- William Revetour, W 17.

Reynard (v. Renaud, 1), 41.

- Godfrey Reynaud, A.

Reynardson, 41.

- William fil. Reynaud, A.

- Joseph Reynardson, W 11.

Reyner.

- Reyner de Aula, A.

- Reyner le Blake, A.

- Reyner Custance, A.

- Henry Reyner, W 16.

Reynerson (v. Reyner).

- John Reynerson, W 10.

Reynold, Reynoldson, Reynolds, 41.

- Robert Reynold, X.

- Robert Reynoldson, W 16.

- Emme Raynold, A.

Reyson.

- Peter Reysonne, W 18.

Rhymer, 313.

- Ralph Rymer, W 16.

Ribaud, 479.

- Philip Ribaud, W 15.

- Will. le Ribote, J.

Rice (v. Price), 12.

- Hugh ap Rys, C.

- Rice Mansel (Princess Mary, Privy Expenses).

Richard, 40.

- Richard fil. Milo, T.

- Durand fil. Richard, A.

Richards, Richardson, 40.

- John Richardesonne, Z Z.

- Thomas Rycherdeson F.

- John Rychartson W 19.

Riche, 430.

- Swanus le Riche, A.

- Reimbal le Riche, C.

- Gervase le Riche, H.

Richelot, 16, 40.

- Robert Richelot, W 15.

- Robert Richelot, R R.

- Rikelot, C C 1.

Richson, 40.

- Thomas Richeson, W 9.

Rickards, 40.

- Thomas fil. Ricard, A.

- Hugh Ricard, A.

- Rycardus, W 19.

Ricketts, 40.

Ricks, Rickson, 40.

- Cuthbert Ricerson, W 3.

- John Rycerson, W 3.

Rider, 232.

- Roger le Rider, A.

- Stephen le Ridere, A.

- Robert le Rider, V 8.

Ridler, 275.

- John Ridler, Z.

- William Rydler, Z.

Righteous.

- John Rightwyse, H.

- John Rightwys, X.

Ritson (v. Rickson), 40.

Ritter (v. Reuter), 200.

River-Jordan, 509.

Rix (v. Ricks), 40.

Rixon (v. Rickson), 40.

- Laurence Rixon, Z.

Roan, 170.

Robarts, 39.

- Thomas Robart, H.

Robelot (v. Robert), 75 n.

- Henry Robelot, A.

- Ric Robelot, A.

- Rus Robalot, A.

Roberds, 39.

- Walter Roberd, H.

- William Roberd, A.

Robert, 39.

- Robert fil. Ivo, T.

- Robert de Romeny, A.

Robertot (v. Robert), 39.

- William Robertot, A.

Roberts, Robertson, 39.

- Bate fil. Robert, A.

- Wacius fil. Robert, G.

- Edmund Roberteson, H.

Robin (v. Robins), 39.

Robinet, 39.

- Richard Robynet, H.

- Robinet of the Hill, Y.

Robinhood, 39.

- Thomas Robynhod, v. p. 39.

Robins, 39.

- William Robyn, X.

- Robin le Herberjur, E.

- Dera Robins, A.

Robinson, 39.

- Roland Robynson, H.

- John Robbynson, Z.

Robison, 39.

- John Robeson, W 9.

- Robert Roberson, W 16.

Robkin (v. Robert), 39.

- Adam Robekin, A.

- Stephen Robekin, M.

Robson, 39.

- Edward Robson, H.

- Thomas Robson, W 9.

Robuck, 145, 485.

- William atte Roebuck, M.

- Roger Robuck, W 16.

Rodd, 461.

Rodds, 119.

- Francis Rods, Z.

Roden, 118.

- William Rodden, Z.

Rodes, 119.

- Raffe Rodes, Z.

- Godfrey Rodes, Z.

Rodesmith, 283.

- John Rodesmithe, D.

Rodgers, 40.

- Hugh Roggers, H.

Roe

- (1), 443.

- Alicia le Ro, A.

- (2), 145, 485.

- John de la Roe, O.

Roefoot, 439.

Roger, 18, 40.

- James fil. Roger, T.

- Roger le Riche, H.

Rogercock (v. Roger), 40.

- Stephen Rogekoc, A.

Rogers, 40.

- William Rogers, A.

- Henry Rogers, A.

Rogerson, 40.

- Richard Rogersonne, Z Z.

- Ranulf fil. Roger C.

Rokster, 381.

- Juliana Rokster, R R 2.

Roland (v. Rowland), 38.

- Rolond le Lene, A.

- John Roland, H.

Rolfe (v. Ralph).

- John Rolff, H.

- Sarra Rolf, A.

Rollins (v. Rawlins), 37.

Rollinson (v. Rawlinson), 37,

Romaine, Romayne, 162.

- John le Romayn, L.

- Reginald le Romayn, A.

- John Roman, W 17.

Romer, 195.

- Christiana la Romere, A.

- Stephen Romer, Z Z.

Rood, 130.

- William de la Rude, A.

- Richard de la Rude, H.

Rook, 267 n., 494.

- Geoffrey le Roke, A.

- William le Ruk, A.

- Adam le Roe, A.

Rookherd, 267.

- Henry le Rochyrde, A.

Roper, 399.

- Simeon le Roper, A.

- Robert le Ropere, N.

- Alvena le Roper, R R 1.

Rosamund, 19.

- Rosamunda, A.

Rosser (v. Prosser), 13.

- Rosser Morres, Z.

Rose, 142, 485.

- John de la Rose, T.

- Nicholas de la Rose, A.

Roughead, 447.

- Robert Rogheved, R.

- Josias Roughead, 447.

- John Roughheved, R R 1.

Round, 431.

- Robert Rounde, Z.

Roundhay, 133.

Rountree (v. Rowntree).

Rous, 444.

- Jordan le Rous, B.

- Henry le Rous, N.

- Ivo de Rous, J.

Rouse, 444.

- Juliana le Rouse, A.

- Alice Rouze, A.

Rowden, 118.

- William de Ruweden, A.

- Simon de Ruweden, A.

Rowe, 443.

- William le Roo, A.

- Thomas le Roo, A.

Rowland, Rowlands, 38.

- Roulandus Bloet, C.

- Rowland Robynson, H.

- Rowland fil. Roulandi, T.

Rowlandson, 38.

- William Rollandson, F.

- Richard Rowlinson, W 2.

- Robert Rowelyngsonne, Z Z.

Rowlett, Rowlet, (v. Rowland), 38.

- Joane Rowlet, H H.

- Ralph Rowlett, H H.

- Mathew Rowlett, Y.

Rowley, 119.

- Geffery Rowley, Z.

- Hew Rowley, Z.

Rowlson (v. Rowlandson), 38.

- Francis Rowlson, Z.

Rownthwaite, 121.

- Thomas Rounthwaite, W 16.

- Henry Rownthwaite, Z Z.

Rowntree, 129.

- William Rowentree, W 16.

- Ralph Roentree, W 20.

Royds, 119.

Royal-King, 508.

Roylance, 459.

Rudd, 130.

- Margaret atte Rudde, J.

- Agnes Rudde, A.

Rudder, 130.

- William Rudder, Z.

Ruddick (v. Ruddock), 495.

Ruddiman, 130.

Ruddock, 495.

- Ralph Ruddoc, A.

- Edward Ruddock, W 16.

Rufhead (v. Roughead), 397.

Rumbelow, 512.

- Stephen Rumbilowe, H.

Rummager, 483.

- Honorius le Rumongour, N.

Rummelowe (v. Rumbelow), 512.

Rummey (v. Rumney), 169.

Rummiley (v. Rumbelow), 512.

Rumney, 169.

- Alan de Romeny, T.

- John de Romeneye, O.

- Robert de Romeny, R.

Runchiman, Runchman, Runciman, 286.

Runcy, 286, 490.

- Lawrence Runcy, A.

- Thomas Runcy, A.

- Roger Runcy, V 8.

Russe, 162.

- Martin le Rus, A.

- William le Ruse, B.

- Hugh le Ruse, E.

Russell, 445.

- Willecoccus Russel, A.

- Miriel Russel, A.

Ruter, Rutter, (v. Reuter), 200.

Ryecroft, 132.

- Richard de Ricroft, R.

- Robert Ryecroft, Z Z.

Ryder, 232.

- Roger le Rydere, A.

- Ralph le Ryder, J.

Rylands, 459.

Sabin, Sabina, 72.

- Sabina Pikerel, A.

- Sabina Gaylard, H.

- Sabinus Chambre, V 4.

Sacker, 319.

- John Sakkere, H.

- Adam le Sakkere, X.

Sadd, 469.

- Robert Sad, H.

- William Sad, R.

Sadler, 289.

- John le Sadeler, M.

- John Sadeler, H.

Saer (v. Saher), 25.

- Saer Batagle, A.

- John fil. Saeri, A.

- Saer Bude, A.

Sage, 463.

- Jacob le Sage, C.

- Geoffrey le Sage, T.

Saher, 25.

- Saherus de Braban, E.

- Saher Clerk, C.

- Saher le King, H.

Sailor, 408.

- John le Saillur, A.

- Nicholas le Saler, A.

Saint. William le Seynt, DD.

Sale, 136.

- Alexander de la Sale, B.

- Katerina de la Sale, J.

- John de la Sale, T.

Sallow, 152.

- Giles St. Lowe, H.

- Margaret St. Lowe, H.

Salmon, 446.

- Elizabeth Salmon, G.

Salmon, 83.

- Salomon.

Salter, 312, 371.

- Walter le Salter, A.

- John le Salter, M.

Salvage (v. Savage), 484.

- William le Salvage, B.

- Geoffrey le Salvage, E.

Samand, 152.

- Almaric de St. Amando, B.

- John de St. Amand, M.

Sample (v. Semple), 152.

Samms (v. Samuel), 83.

Sampson, Samson, 83.

- Samson de Battisford, A.

- Sampson de Box, A.

- Sampson Darnebrough, W 16.

Samuel, Samuelson, 83.

- Samuell Ellis, W 16.

Sandeman (v. Samand), 152.

Sandercock, 98.

Sanders (v. Saunders), 98.

- Sanders Ewart, W 9.

- Roger Alisander, R.

- William Sandre, A.

Sanderson, 98.

Sanger, 313.

- Adam le Sangere, T.

Sangster, 313.

- Willametta Cantatrix, E.

Sapphira, 101.

- Sapphira Leighton, 101 n.

Sarah, 23.

- Sarra Malet, A.

- Sarra le Cornmongere, T.

- William fil. Sarra, T.

Sarasin, 166.

- Peter Sarracen, C.

- Henry Sarrasin, J.

- William Sarazein, C.

Sargant, Sargeant, Sargeaunt, Sargent, (v. Sarjant), 180.

Sarjant, Sarjeant, 180.

- John le Serjant, A.

- Roesia la Serjaunte, J.

- Gocelin le Serjaunt, N.

Sarra (v. Sarah), 82.

Sarson

- (1), 82, 166.

- Nicholas fil. Sarre, A.

- William fil. Sare, DD.

- (2), (v. Sarasin), 166.

- John Saresson, F F.

Saturday, 63.

Saucemaker, 371.

- Joan Sausemaker, W 11.

Saucer, 371.

- Robert le Sauser, H.

- Matilda le Sausere, B.

- Roger le Sauser, N.

Saul, 136.

Saundercock, 98.

- Edward Saundercock, Q.

Saunder, Saunders, (v. Sanders), 98.

- John Alisaundre, M.

- John Saunders, Z Z.

Saunderson, 98.

- Thomas fil. Saundre, A.

- George Saunderson, Z Z.

Sauvage, Savage, 484.

- Adelmya le Sauvage, J.

- Henry le Sauvage, B.

- John le Savage, H.

Savonier, 372.

- Agneta le Savoner, A.

- Adam le Savonier, E.

Saward (v. Seward), 25.

Sawkin (v. Saunder).

- John Sawkyn, Z Z.

Sawtrer, 311.

- William le Sautreour, X.

Sawyer.

- Geoffrey le Sawere, A.

- Walter le Sawyere, G.

- Henry le Saghier, M.

Saxton (v. Sexton), 189.

Say

- (1), 213.

- William le Saye, A.

- John le Say, M.

- (2), 213.

- Geoffrey de Say, M.

- Hugh de Say, A.

Sayer (v. Saher), 25, 405.

- Sayer Herberd, A.

- Sayer Lorimer, D.

- Agnes Sayer, N.

Saykin (v. Sayer).

- Saykin Bude, A.

Scambler, 440.

Scarlett, 446.

- Hugh Skarlet, D.

- Elizabeth Scarlet, H.

Scattergood, 500.

- Wimcote Schatregod, A.

- Thomas Skatergoode, F.

- Mathew Scatergude, W 2.

Schalk, 212.

- Doctor Schalke, 212 n.

Scharpe (v. Sharp), 412.

Schoolmaster, 197.

- Thomas Skolmayster, B.

Scissor, 340.

- William le Scissor, C.

- German Scissor, T.

Sclater, 248.

- Adam le Sclattere, A.

- Roger Sclatiere, A.

Scolardson, 65.

- John Scolardesson, M.

Scorchbeef, 500.

- Simon Schorchebef, A.

- Roger Scorchebof, A.

Scot (v. Escot), 148.

- William le Scot, B.

- Walter le Scot, C.

- Maurice le Scot, J.

Scratchhose, 457.

- John Scrothose, M.

Scrimminger, 220.

Scrimshaw (v. Skrimshire), 220.

Scriven, Scrivener, 406.

- William le Scrivayn, J.

- John le Scriveyn, L.

- Clara le Scrivyn, A.

Scuteler, 389.

- James le Scutelaire, H.

- Robert Scutellarius, E.

Scutelmouth, 390, 501.

- Arnald Scutelmuth, A.

Seabourne, 26.

- Alexander Sebern, A.

Sealer (v. Seller), 406.

Sealey, 470.

- Nicholas Sely, M.

- Thomas Sely, R.

Seaman, 26.

- Seaman le Baylif, J.

- Seaman Carpenter, A.

- Seaman Champayne, B.

Seamer (v. Seymour), 340.

- James Seamer, W 16.

Searle (v. Serle), 27.

- William Serle, C.

Searson (v. Saer), 25.

- Seer le Faber, A.

- Seer de Freville, A.

Seaward (v. Seward), 25.

Secretain (v. Sexton), 189.

Secular, 190.

- Alexander le Seculer, L.

- Nicholas le Secular, B.

- Walter le Seculer, A.

Seculer (v. Secular), 158.

Seeley (v. Sealey), 470.

- William Sely, A.

Segar, 25.

- Eudo fil. Sygar, C.

- Eudo fil. Seger, E.

Seller, 289, 406.

- John le Seler, G.

- Warin le Seler, N.

- Hugh le Seler, O.

Sellinger (v. Steleger), 152.

- Roger de Seint-Leger, M.

Sellman, Selman, 293.

- Thomas Selman, D.

Selyman, 470.

- George Selyman, D.

- Robert Selyman, H.

Seman (v. Seaman), 26.

Semper, 152.

- Agnes Seynpere, B.

- John Seyntpere, C.

- Robert de Seyntpere, M.

Sempill, Semple, (v. Semple), 152.

- John de St. Paul, H.

- Robert de Seint Poul, M.

Sempster, 340.

- Peter le Semestre, A.

- Elen Semster, W 2.

- Emma Semister, W 9.

- Hellen Simster, W 16.

Senecal (v. Senechal), 211.

Senechal, 211.

- Alexander le Seneschal, B.

- William le Seneschal, H.

- Ivo Seneschallus, T.

Senior, 429.

- Michael le Seigneur, E.

- William le Seignour, M.

- Edmund Seignyowr, W 2.

- Thomas Senior, W 16.

Senlez, Senlis, 152.

- Guy de Saintliz, M.

- Simon de Seintliz, E.

Serelson (v. Serlson), 28.

- Ri. Serelson, M.

Sergeantson, 65.

- Thomas Sergeauntson, H.

Sergent, Sergeant, (v. Serjant), 180.

Sergeantson.

- Thomas Sargandson, W 11.

- Henry Serchauntson, W 11.

Sergison (v. Sergeantson), 65.

- Mary Sergison, W 16.

Serle, 27.

- Serle Gotokirke, A.

- John fil. Serlo, A.

- Serl fil. Ade, A.

Serlson, 27, n.

- Hugh Serlson, M.

- Richard Serelson, M.

- William Serleson, W 2.

Serrell (v. Serle and Serlson), 27.

Setter, 227.

- Clement le Settere, N.

- Alexander le Settere, X.

Severe, 468.

- John le Severe, A.

Seward, 25.

- Syward Godwin, J.

- Siward Oldcorn, L.

- Richard Seward, A.

Sewer, 212.

- Robert le Suur, A.

- Henry le Suur, G.

- Nicholas le Suur, A.

Sexton, 189.

- William Sexten, Z.

- Robert Sextin, Z.

- Richard Sekkesteyn, F F.

- John Sixton, W 16.

Seymour, 152.

- Elizabeth Seyntmaur, B.

- Henry de St. Maur, M.

Shacklock, 447.

- Johannes Schaklok, W 2.

Shailer, 440.

Shakelance, 461.

- Henry Shakelaunce, A.

Shakelock, 447.

- Hamo Shakeloc, A.

- Simon Shakelok, M.

Shakeshaft, 461.

- Anne Shakeshaft, v. p. 461.

- Hugh Shakeshaft, v. p. 461.

Shakespeare, 461.

- William Shakespere, V.

Shallcross, 117.

- Humfrey Shallcross, E.

Shambler, 440.

Shanks, 437.

- Stephen Schankes, A.

Shark, 497.

Sharman (v. Sherman), 327.

Sharp, 465.

- Thomas Scharp, H.

- Alexander Scharp, A.

Sharparrow, 465.

- John Sharparrow, W 2.

- William Sharparrow, W 11.

- Oswin Sharparrow, W 3.

Shavenhead, A, 447.

- Robert Shevenehod, A.

Shaver, 384.

- Jeffery Schavere, F F.

Shave-tail, 384.

- Henry Shavetail, R R 1.

Shaw, 117.

- John atte Schawe, H.

- Thomas de Shaghe, M.

Shawcross (v. Shallcross), 117.

Shayler, Shaylor, 440.

Shearer, 327.

- Richard le Sherere, M.

- Reginald le Scherere, M.

Shearman (v. Sherman), 327.

- John le Sheremon, M.

Shearsmith, 282.

- Walter le Scheresmythe, M.

Sheather, 223.

Sheerwind, 439.

- Richard Sherewynde, D.

- Henry Scherewind, A.

Sheepshank, 438.

Sheepshead, 435.

- John Schepished, P P.

- William Schepished, P P.

Sheeter, 358.

- Hugh le Shetare, M.

- Roger le Schetere, M.

Sheldrake, Sheldrick, 494.

- John Sheldrake, D.

- Adam Sceyldrake, A.

Shepherd, 267.

- Margaret le Shepherde, A.

- John le Shepherde, M.

- Josse le Sephurde, A.

Shepperdson, 65.

- Alice Shipperdson, W 9.

- William Shipperdson, S S.

Sherman, 327.

- Robert le Sherman, M.

- William le Sherman, R.

Sherriff.

- Thomas le Shirreve, D.

- Lena le Shireve, A.

Shilling, 513.

- Robert Shillyng, R R 1.

Shingler, 248.

Shipgroom, 409.

- John Shipgroom, G.

Shipley, 119.

Shipman, 408.

- William Shypman, B.

- Alexander Schipman, H.

Shipper (v. Skipper), 408.

Shipward, 409.

- John Shypward, D.

- John Shipward, H.

Shipwright, 277.

- Hugh le Schipwryte, A.

- Simon Shepewright, Z Z.

Shirriff (v. Sherriff).

- Roger le Shyreve, L.

- Nicholas Sherreve, L.

Shoebeggar, 314 n.

- Simon le Shobeggere, A.

Shoemaker, 351 n.

- Christopher Shoomaker.

- John Showmaker, v. p.

- Harry Shomaker, v. p.

- Richard Shomaker, V 3.

Shoosmith, 282.

- Henry Shughsmythe, W.

Shore, 127.

Short, 431.

- Richard le Shorte, M.

- Richard Short, J.

Shorter, 432.

- John Shorter, H.

- Anna Shawter, W 20.

Shorthose, 456.

Shortman, 431.

Shotbolt, 462.

- John Shotbolt, H H.

- Thomas Shotbolte, Z.

Shoveller, Showler, 276.

Shreeve (v. Sherriff), 179.

Shunchrist.

- William Shonecrist, A.

Shuxsmith, 282.

- Margerie Shughsmythe, A A 1.

- Henry Shughsmythe, A A 1.

Sibbald, 26.

- Sibbald Jones, Q Q.

Sibbes (v. Sibson), 72.

Sibilla, (v. Sybilla), 72.

Siborne (v. Seabourn), 26.

Sibson, 72.

- Richard fil. Sibille, A.

- John Sybson, W 9.

Sicklefoot, 440.

- Gilbert Sikelfot, M.

Sicklesmith, 282.

- John Sykelsmith, D.

Sidney, 152.

Silence, 104.

- Silence Leigh, 104 n.

Sillery, 152.

Silly, 470.

- Benedict Sely, D.

Sillybarn, 471.

- Thomas Selybarn, W 11.

Sillyman, 470.

- George Selyman, D.

- John Seliman, A.

Silverlock, 447.

- Richard Selverlok, M.

- James Silverlock, H H.

- Alex Silverlock, V 5.

Silverspoon, 144.

Silvester.

- Silvestre le Enneyse, A.

- Thomas fil. Silvestre, A.

Simbarb, 75 n., 152.

- Thomas Seyntbarbe, B.

- Jordan de St. Barbe, M.

- William Sembarbe, V 3.

Simcock, Simcox, 89.

- James Sympcock, W 9.

Simister (v. Summister), 206.

- John Somayster, F.

- William Summaster, Z.

Simkins (v. Simpkins), 89.

Simms, 89.

- William Symmes, X.

- James Symmes, Z.

Simmonds, Simmons, Simmonson, 89.

- Ingilram fil. Simon, J.

- Robert Symondson, W 8.

- Marquis Symondesson, H.

Simnel, 367.

- Lambert Simnel.

Simon, 89.

- Simon fil. Peter, C.

- Simon le Gras, T.

Simonet, 89.

- Simonettus Mercator, E.

- Symonet Villain, C C 4.

Simper (v. Semper), 152.

Simpkins, 89.

- Robert Symkyn, F.

- Simkin Cock, F F.

- Ann Symkynes, Z.

- Symkyn Edward, V.

Simpkinson, 89.

- John Symkynson, Z.

- William Simpkinson, Z Z.

Simple

- (1), 470.

- Henry le Simple, M.

- Jordan le Simple, A.

- (2), 152.

Simpole (v. Semple), 152.

Simpson, 89.

- William Sympson, F.

- Dorothy Sympson, Z.

Sims (v. Simms), 89.

- John Symes, Z.

- Thomas Symes, Z Z.

Simson, 89.

- Simon fil. Sim, A.

- Hugh fil. Sim, A.

Sinclair, 152.

- Robert de Sencler, A.

- Thomas de Seint Clere, M.

Sing-Song, 508.

Sinkler (v. Sinclair), 152.

Sire.

- Alexander le Sire, A.

- William le Syre, N.

Sirlot (v. Serle), 28.

- Matilda Sirlot, A.

- Mabil Sirlot, A.

Siser, 180.

Sisselot, 69.

- Alicia fil. Sisselot, A.

- Bella Cesselot, A.

Sisselson, 69.

- Richard Sisselson, H.

Sissiver, 152.

- Hugh Sanzaver, A.

- Ralph Saunsavoir, M.

- Henry Syssiver, W 9.

Sisson, 69.

- John Sisson, W 2.

- Henry Sysson, W 9.

- Cuthbert Sisson, W 20.

Sissot, 69.

- Cissota West, W 2.

- Syssot Wilson, A A 2.

- Syssot Cook, A A 2.

Sissotson, 69.

- John Sissotson, W 2.

- Agnes Sissotson, W 11.

Sisterson, 430.

- Jacob Systerson, W 3.

Sivewright, 277.

Sivier, Sivyer, 275.

- Ralph le Siviere, A.

- Peter Syvyere, B.

Sixpeny, 513.

- Thomas Sexpenne, G.

Sixsmith (v. Sicklesmith), 282.

Sizer, 180.

Skilful.

- John Skilful, O.

- Geoffrey Scilful, A.

Skiller (v. Squiller), 209.

Skilman.

- John Skilman, M.

- Henry Skileman, A.

Skinner, 330.

- Richard le Skynnere, B.

- Hamo le Skynner, J.

- Robert le Skynnere, M.

Skipper, 408.

- Robert Skepper, W 9.

Skirmisher, Skrimshire, Skrymsher, (v. Eskirmisour), 220.

- Elizebetha Skrymsher, E E.

- Alexander Schirmissure, S S.

- William le Shyrmisur, A.

- Roger le Skirmisour, X.

Slabber, 249.

- John le Sclabbere, M.

Slade, 121.

- John Atte Slade, M.

- Nicholas de la Slade, M.

Sladen, 121.

Slater, Slatter, 248.

- Adam le Sclattere, A.

- John Sclatter, H.

Slaughter, 375.

- Paris Slaughter, V 2.

Slaymaker, 321.

- George Slemaker, v. p. 321.

- Susannah Slemaker, v. p. 321.

Slayman, 321.

- Henry Slayman, A.

Slaywright (v. Slywright), 277, 321.

- Thomas Slawryght, W 11.

- Richard Slawryght, A A 3.

Slee, 469.

- Isabell Slee, W 9.

- Richard Sle, A.

Sleeper.

- Simon le Slepare, A.

Sleigh, 469.

- Simon le Slegh, M.

- Nigel le Sleygh, M.

- John le Slege, A.

Slemman, 469.

- Davy Slemen, Z.

Slick, 442.

Slight, 431.

- Allan Sleight, Q.

- John Slyt, A.

Slinger, 224.

- Thomas Slinger, W 16.

- William Slynger, Z.

Slocombe, 125.

- John Slocombe, Z.

- Richard Slocombe, Z.

Sloper, 345.

- Agatha le Slopere, A.

- William Sloper, H H.

Sly, 469.

- John Slye, H.

- Alexander Slye, O.

- Thomas Sly, R R 1.

Slyman, 469.

Slywright, 277, 321.

- Margery Slywright, Z Z.

- Thomas Slywright, Z Z.

Smale, 433.

- John le Smale, A.

- John le Smale, M.

Smaleman, 433.

- Richard Smaleman, A.

- Stephen Smaleman, Z.

Small, 431.

- Nicholas le Smalle, D.

- Robert le Small, A.

Smallman (v. Smaleman), 433.

- William Smallman, V 2.

- Lucy Smallman, V 2.

Smallpage, 215, 506.

- Thomas Smallpage, W 2.

- Ralph Smallpage, V 3.

- Percivall Smallpage, v. p. 215.

Smallwriter, 508.

- William Smalwritere, A.

- William le Smalewritere, R.

Smart (v. Smert), 465.

- John Smart, M.

- William Smart, A.

Smartknave, 505.

- Christiana Smartknave, A.

Smartwayt, 506.

- James Smartwayt, F F.

- Geoffrey Smartwayt, F.

- Robert Smartwate, F.

Smelt, 497.

Smert, 465.

- Richard le Smert, M.

- Walter Smert, H.

Smijth, Smith, 281.

- Philip le Smethe, A.

- Henry Le Smeyt, A.

- Gilbert le Smyth, M.

- William le Smyt, M.

Smithman.

- John Smythman, F.

- Henry Smytman, H.

Smithson, 65.

- Thomas Smythson, F.

- William le Smithssone, M.

- John fil. Fabri, R.

Smocker, Smoker, Smooker, 344.

Smythe (v. Smith), 281.

- Peter le Smyth, M.

- William le Smyth, A.

Snake, 498.

- Roger Snake, 498 n.

- William Snake, 498 n.

Snell, 465.

- William Snel, A.

- Walter Snel, X.

Snooks, 129.

- William Sevenokes, H.

Snowball.

- William Snowball, W 16.

Soaper (v. Soper), 371.

Sober.

- Thomas le Sober, M.

Sockerman (v. Sockman), 252.

Sockman, 252.

- Sokemannus de Castro, A.

- William Sokeman, A.

Solomon, 83.

Somer, 152.

- William St. Omer, C.

- Thomas de St. Omer, M.

Soper, 371.

- Julian le Soper, A.

- Aleyn le Sopere, X.

Sor, 444.

- John le Sot, H.

- Philip le Sor, T.

Sorrell, 444.

- Robert Sorel, J.

- Richard Sorel, M.

Sot, 481.

- Robert le Sot, O.

- Thomas le Sot, T.

Sotheran, Sothern, 150.

Sour.

- Gilbert le Sour, A.

Sourale, 481.

- Thomas Sourale, A.

Souter (v. Sowter), 350.

- Robert le Souter, M.

- David le Souter, M.

South, 150.

- Henry Suth, A.

Southern, 150.

Soward, 267.

Sowden, 118.

- William de Soudon, M.

- Robert de Sowdene, A.

Sowman, 270.

Sowter, 350.

- Andrew le Soutere, D.

- Richard le Sutor, M.

Spain (v. Espin), 161.

- William de Spaigne, B.

- Michael de Spane, A.

Spaniard, 161.

- John Spaynard, C.

Sparewater, 482.

- Ralph Sparewater, J.

Spark (v. Sparrowhawk), 493.

- Nicholas Sparke, A.

- Hugh Spark, A.

Sparling, 497.

- Robert Sparling, H.

- William Sparling, R.

Sparrow, 142, 494.

- Nicholas Sparewe, A.

- Walter Sparewe, B.

Sparrowhawk, 493.

- Richard Sparhawke, F F.

- Olive Sparrehawke, Z.

Speaklittle, 468.

- William Spekelitel, P.

- William Spekelitel, G G.

Speakman.

- Isolda Spekeman, A.

- Richard Spekeman, A.

Spear, 459.

- Ralph Sper, A.

- John Spere, A.

Spearman, 222.

Spearsmith, 281.

Speight, 494.

- John Spight, W 16.

- Richard Speight, W 16.

Speller.

- Gerard le Speller, H.

Spence, 209.

- Cecily Spence, W 16.

- Marmaduke Spence, W 16.

Spencer, 209.

- John le Spencer, A.

- Richard le Spencer, A.

Spendlove, 474.

- John Spendlove, P.

- Alicia Spendlove, A.

Spenser (v. Spencer), 209.

- Henry le Spenser, A.

- Roger le Spenser, A.

Spicer, 370.

- Harry le Spicere, M.

- Saer le Spicer, N.

- Amphelisa le Spicer, O.

Spichfat, 491.

- Robert Spichfat, X.

- William Spichfat, W 11.

Spigurell, Spigurnell, 218.

- Nicholas le Spigurnell, A.

- Godfrey Spigurnel, O.

- Henry Spigurner, X X 1.

Spillwine.

- Emma Spilleweyne, H.

- John Spillwyne, X.

Spindler, 321.

- John Spyndelere, X 1.

- Thomas Spendeler, F F.

Spink, 494.

Spinner, 381.

Spittal, Spittle,

- Richard ate Spitele, M.

- Gilbert de Hospitall, A.

Spoon, 144.

Spooner, 214, 390.

Spratt, 497.

- Thomas Spratt, V 10.

- Edward Spratt, V 11.

Springald.

- John Springald, A.

- William Springald, R.

Spurdance, 462.

- Margaret Spurdaunce, V.

- Richard Spurdaunce, F F.

Spurnhose, 457.

- John Sprenhose, A.

Spurrier, 224, 289.

- Benedict le Sporier, J.

- Nicholas le Sporiere, X.

Squier (v. Squire), 199.

- Walter le Squier, M.

- John le Squier, A.

Squiller, 209.

- John le Squylier, H.

- Geoffrey le Squeller, O.

Squillery, 209.

- John de la Squillerye, H.

Squire (v. Esquire), 199.

Squirrell, 489.

- Thomas Squyrelle, N.

Stabler, 272.

- Thomas le Stabeler, A.

- William le Stabler, R.

- Anne Stabler, W 16.

Staff, 461.

Stag, Stagg, 488.

- Dorothie Stagge, Z Z.

- John Stagge, V 8.

Stagman, 235.

- Robert Stagman, H.

Stainer, 251.

- William Steynour, H.

- Robert Stainer, M.

Stallard, 303.

- Geoffrey Stallard, M.

Staller, 303.

- John le Stallere, M.

- Elias Staller, A.

Stallman, 303.

Stalwart, 466.

- Henry Staleworth, A.

- John le Staleworthe, A.

Stammer, 441.

Stamper, 404.

- John Stamper, A.

- Antony Stamper, Z Z.

- Robert Stamper, W 16.

Stannus, 131.

- Robert de Stanehouse, A.

Stapler, 319.

Star, Stare, 495.

- Robert Stare, A.

Starker, 363.

- Ralph le Starker, A.

Starkie, 483.

- Humfrey Starkey, H.

Starkman, 363, 483.

- Geoffrey Starkman, T.

- William Starcman, A.

Stead, 135.

- John Stede, A.

Steadman, Stedman, 135.

- John le Stedman, M.

- Simon le Stedman, B.

Steenson (v. Stevenson), 96.

Steer, 490.

- Roger le Ster, A.

- Simon le Ster, M.

Steerman, 271.

- Thomas Sterman, M.

- William Sterman, M.

Steerson (v. Stevenson).

- Francis Stearson, W 16.

- John Stearson, W 16.

Stein-kettle, 25.

- Steinchetel (Domesday B.).

Steleger (v. Sellinger), 152.

- Ranulph Steleger, H.

Stennet, Stennett, 96.

Stephen, 96.

- Stephen le Fox, L.

- Stephen le Bor, T.

Stephens, Stephenson, 96.

- Jordan fil. Stephen, A.

- Simon fil. Stephen, A.

Stepkin (v. Stephen).

- John Stepkin, V 10.

- Theodosia Stepkin, V 10.

Sterling, 165.

- John Sterlyng, M.

Stertwayte, 506.

- William Stertwayte, F F.

Stevens, 96.

- Robert Stevene, M.

- Esteven Walays, W 2.

Stevenson, 96.

- Thomas Stevison, W 11.

- Joseph Stinson, W 11.

Stewardson, 65.

- Rowland Stewardson, Z Z.

St. George, 152.

- Baldwin de Seyngeorge, A.

- Thomas Sayntegeorge, X X 1.

Stickbeard, 451.

- Thomas Stikeberd, A.

Stierman (v. Steerman), 271.

Stinson (v. Stevenson), 96.

Stimson, Stimpson, (v. Stephenson), 96.

- John Stimpson, F F.

Stirling (v. Sterling), 165.

Stirrup, 144.

- Margery de Styrop, P.

- Roger de Stirap, A.

St. John, 152.

- John de St. Johanne, M.

St. Leger (v. Sellinger), 152.

- Bartholomew Seintleger, X X 1.

Stobbart, 268.

- Thomas Stoberd, W 3.

- Janet Stobart, W 9.

- Simon Stobbart, W 16.

Stoddard, Stoddart, 266.

- Cuthbert Stoddert, W 9.

- Walter Stodhirde, M.

- John Studdart, W 16.

Stone.

- John de la Stone, A.

- Richard Stone, Z.

Stoneclough, 124.

- Matthew Stonecliffe, W 16.

Stonehewer, 264.

- Richard Stonhewer, S S.

- John Stonehewer, A A 4.

Stonehouse (v. Stannus), 131.

Stork, 144, 494.

- Thomas Storck, A.

Stothard, Stotherd, 266.

- Matilda Stotehard, A.

- William Stothard, A.

Stott, 490.

- Peter Stot, A.

- Hugh Stote, A.

Stout, 431.

- John Stout, B B.

- Richard Stout, M.

Stradling, 440.

- Isabel Stradling, H.

- Edward Stradelyng, Y.

Straitbarrel.

- James Straytbarrel, A A 3.

- Richard Streteburell (Hist. Leeds, p. 359).

- James Stratberell, X X 1.

Strang (v. Strong), 436.

- John le Strang, E.

Strange, 146.

- John le Strange, A.

- Fulk le Strange, M.

Stranger, 146.

Strangeman, 146.

- Ellen Strangman, Z.

- John Strangman, E E.

Strange-woman, 146.

- Alicia Strange-woman, R R 1.

Straunge, 146.

- Richard le Straunge, B.

- Amice le Straunge, M.

Street, 115.

- Alice de la Strete, A.

- William atte Strete, M.

Streeter, 113.

- James Streater, W 16.

- John Streteer, F.

Streetman, 113.

Streetshend, 114.

- John atte Stretesend, F F.

- Walter ate Stretende A.

Strictman, 468.

- John Strictman, A.

Stringer, 226, 399.

- George Stringer, Z Z.

- Thomas Stringer, W 16.

Stringfellow, 228, 399.

- John Stringefellowe, Z.

- Thomas Strengfellowe, Z Z.

Strokehose, 457.

- Nicholas Strokehose, M.

Strong, 431.

- Joscelin le Strong, H.

- William le Strong, T.

Strongbow, 459.

- Ranulf Strongbowe, A.

- Simon Strongebowe, H.

Stronger, 432.

- Henry le Stronger, M.

Strongfellow, 433.

- Robert Strongfellowe, Z.

- Frances Strongfellowe, Z.

Strongitharm (v. Armstrong), 436.

Strongman, 433.

- Bridget Strongman, F F.

Strut.

- John le Strut, A.

- Cecil Strut, A.

Stubbard, 268.

- William Stubbard, V.

- Augustin Stubbard, Z.

Sturdy.

- Walter Sturdi, A.

- Henry Sturdy, F F.

Sturgeon, 497.

- Nicholas Sturgeon, D.

- John Sturgeon, H.

Stuttard (v. Stoddart), 266, 441.

- John Stouthirde, M.

Stutter, 441.

- Nicholas le Stotere, M.

Styles, 110, 115.

- Richard de la Style, A.

- William atte Style, B.

- John atte Stighele, M.

Subtle, 469.

- Robert le Sotele, A.

- Salomon le Sotell, 469 n.

Suckerman (v. Sockman), 252.

- William Sucheman, A.

- Robert Suckerman, Z.

Suckling, 202.

- Amice Suckling, F F.

Sucksmith (v. Sicklesmith), 282.

- Bryan Sukesmythe, Z Z.

Sugden (v. Sowden), 118.

- John Sugden, Z.

- Raynbroun Sugden, Z Z.

Sugg. 491.

- John Sugge, A.

- Roger Sugge, A.

Suitor (v. Sowter), 351.

Sullen, 464.

- Andrew Sullen, B.

Summerswain, 505.

- Eve Summersweyn, F F.

Summister (v. Simister), 206.

- William Sumaster, Z.

- William Summayster, B.

Sumner, 180.

- Hugh le Somenur, A.

- Henry le Sumenour, B.

- Ralph le Somenur, T.

Sumpter, 300.

- William le Sumeter, A.

- Philip le Someter, M.

Sumption, 62.

Sumter (v. Sumpter), 300.

- William le Somter, M.

Sumterman, 300.

- Richard Somterman, R R 2.

Surgeon, 382.

- William le Surgien, G.

- John le Chirurgien, M.

- Thomas le Surigien, T.

Surreys, 150.

- Thomas le Surreys, J.

- Simon le Surreis, DD.

- Aveline le Surrys, F F.

Sustin, 152.

Sutcliffe, 124.

Suter (v. Souter), 351.

- William le Sutere, A.

- Isabel la Sutare, A.

- William le Suter, M.

Sutton, 146.

- Henry de Sutton, M.

- Robert de Suttone, X.

Swain,

- (1), 27.

- Sweyn Colle, R.

- Swanus le Riche, A.

- (2), 255, 505.

- Geoffrey le Sweyn, A.

- Hugh le Sweyn, O.

Swainson, 27.

- Adam fil. Suani, A.

- Adam fil. Swain, J.

Swallow, 494.

- John Swalowe, H.

- Helevisa Swalwe, A.

Swan, 494.

- Henry le Swan, H.

- Simon le Swon, M.

Swanherde, 267.

- William le Swonherde, M.

Swanson (v. Swainson), 27.

- Agnes Swanson, Z Z.

Swart, 445.

- John le Swarte, N.

- Tydyman le Swarte, N.

Swartbrant, 436.

- Swartebrant, W 12.

Swatman, 475.

Swatson, 23.

- John Swetson, T T.

Swayn (v. Swain), 27, 255.

Swayne (v. Swain), 27, 255.

Sweat-in-bed, 501.

- Alan Swetinbedde, V 8.

Sweatman (v. Swetman), 22, 475.

Sweet, 23, 464.

- Swet le Bone, A.

- Adam Swet, A.

Sweetale, 481.

- John Sweteale, V 1.

Sweetapple, 504.

- Edward Swetapple, R R 1.

Sweetcock, 23, 475.

- Adam Swetcoc, A.

Sweetlove, 474.

- Margery Swetelove, A.

- Peter Swetlove, A.

Sweetman, 22, 475.

- Sweteman Textor, A.

- Avice Sueteman, A.

Sweetmouth, 434.

- Robert Swetemouth, D.

- William Swetmouth, Q.

Swetman (v. Sweetman), 22, 420.

- Swetman fil. Edith, A.

- Swetman de Heligham, A.

Swier (v. Swyer), 199.

Swift, 439.

- Robert Swifte, H.

- Amice Swift, A.

Swimmer.

- William le Swymmer, R R.

Swinden, 118.

Swinnart, 267.

- John Swynhird, W 2.

Swire (v. Swyer), 199, 435.

Sword, 459.

- Alice Swerde, A.

Sworder, 223.

- John le Serdere, M.

- John Swerder, Z.

- Henry Swerder, H.

Swyer, 199.

- Geoffrey le Swyer, A.

- William Swyer, W 2.

Sybilla, 72.

- Sybilla fil. Geoffrey, A.

- Sibilla de Dale, B.

Symbarbe (v. Simbarbe), 152.

Syson (v. Sisson), 59, 69.

- Richard fil. Cecilia, A.

Tabard, 458.

Tabberer, 309.

- John le Taburer, A.

- William le Tabourer, B.

Taber (v. Tabor), 309.

Tabler, 401.

- Bartholomew le Tabler, M.

- Roger Tablour, M.

Tableter, 401.

- Richard le Tableter, M.

- Bartholomew le Tableter, X.

Tabor, 309.

- Edmond Tabour, V.

Tabrer (v. Tabberer), 309.

- William le Taburer, A.

Tailor, 339.

- Roger le Tailour, M.

- Miles le Taillur, A.

Tailoress, 339.

- Alicia la Tayleurese, A.

Tait, 434.

- John Tate, H.

- George Taytte, W 9.

Talboys, 154.

- Walter Talebois, B.

- William Tailboys, H.

Tallis, 154.

Tamar, 101.

Tankerville, 151.

- Camberlane de Tankervile, A.

Tanner, 330.

- Jordan le Tannur, A.

- Gilbert le Tanur, B.

- Loretta le Tannur, T.

Tapiser, 360.

- Simon Tapser, H.

- Peter Tapiser, 360 n.

Tapper, 379.

- Robert le Tappere, M.

- John le Tapper, A.

Tapster, 360, 379.

Tasker, 275.

- Alexander Tasker, M.

- Benedict le Taskur, A.

Taskermale, 275.

- Adam Taskermale, A.

Tassel, Tassell, 493.

- John Tassel, F F.

Tasseller, 326.

- Gilbert le Tasselere, H.

- Matilda la Tasselere, H.

Tate (v. Tait), 384.

- Nicholas Tate, A.

Taverner, 292.

- Walter le Taverner, B.

- John le Tavernour, C.

- Thomas le Taverner, D.

Tawyere, 331.

- John le Tawyere, R.

- Ralph le Tawyere, A.

Tayler (v. Taylor), 339.

- Margery la Taillere, B.

Taylor, 326, 339.

- Henry le Talyur, A.

- Roger le Tayllur, B.

- Richard le Taillour, H.

Taylour, 339.

- Alan le Taylour, M.

- Adam le Taliour, H.

Taylzer, 326.

- Edward Taylzer, W 9.

Tebbatt, 59.

- Teobald le Botiler, A.

- Teobald Bussel, A.

Tebbes, 59.

- Tebbe Molendinarius, A.

- Tebb fil. William, J.

- Margery Tebbe W 11.

- Thomas Tebbe, W 12.

Tebbott, Tebbutt, 59.

- Tebald de Engleschevile, A.

- Richard Tebaud, A.

- Roger Tebbott, Z.

- Tibot Fitz-piers, Y.

- Tibaud de Russell, P P.

Teinter, 322.

- Warin le Teyntour, T.

- John le Teyntour, H.

Teinturer, 322.

- Robert le Teynturer, A.

- William le Teinturer, E.

Teler, 328.

- John le Teler, E.

- Robert le Teler, J.

- Henry le Telere, M.

Teleress, 328.

- Ida le Teleresse, T.

Telier (v. Teler), 328.

Telwright, Tellwright, 278,

Temperance, 103.

- Temperance Dowlande, Z.

- Temperance Gell, v. p. 103.

Templeman, 113.

- Ambrose le Templeman, A.

- Robert Templeman, A.

Templer, 113.

- William le Templer, J.

- Adam le Templer, M.

Tench, 497.

- John Tenche, A.

- William Tench, P.

- George Tench, V 5.

Tenison, Tennison, Tennyson, (v. Denison), 70.

- Francis Tenyson, W 14.

- Margaret Tenison, W 14.

- Thomas Tenison, V 10.

Tenter (v. Teinter), 322.

- Richard le Tenter, H.

- Philip le Tentier, H.

Termday, 63.

- Margery Termeday, A.

Tester, 404.

Testimony.

- Ralph Testimonie, A.

- Adam Testimonie, A.

Texter, 328.

- Otto le Texter, F F.

- John Tixtor, 328 n.

Thacker, 246.

- Philip Thackere, H.

- William Thecker, M.

Thackeray, Thackery, (v. Thackwray), 246.

- Mary Thackwray, W 16.

Thackman, 246.

- Nathaniel Thackman, T T.

Thackster, 246.

- Thomas Thackstere, H.

- John Thackster, F F.

Thackwray, 246.

- Thomas Thackwray, W 16.

Thain, Thaine, Thane, 175.

- Nicholas le Then, T.

- John le Theyn, A.

- Roger le Theyn, T.

Thankful, 104 n.

- Thankfull Frewin, V 5.

Thatcher, 246.

- Reginald le Theccher, L.

- John le Thacher, M.

Thaxter (v. Thackster), 246.

- John Thaxter, 246.

The-Lord-is-near, 102.

Theobald, 19, 59.

- Thebold le Bayard, A.

- Fulco fil. Theobald, C.

Theophania, 19, 72.

- Thefama fil. Henry, A.

- Theofania Brid, E.

- Typhania Hauteyn, F F.

Thick, 431.

Thickness, 125.

- Thomas Thykenasse, H.

- James de Thykenesse, M.

Thickpeny, 482.

- William Thickpeny, W 2.

- Rychard Thickpenny, W 9.

Thin, 431.

- Thomas Thynne, A.

Thistlethwaite, 121.

Tholy, 92.

- Tholy Oldcorn, A.

Thom, 93.

Thomas, 93.

- Thomas fil. Odo, T.

- Thomas fil. Lambert, T.

Thomasett, 93.

Thomasine, 93 n.

- Thomasena Rawlyngson, W 11.

- Thomazin Collingword, S S.

- George Thomasin, V 5.

Thomasman, 506.

- William Thomasman, V 13.

Thomason, 93.

- John Thomason, F.

- William Tomasson, Z Z.

Thomlin, 93.

- Thomlyn of the Leghes, A A 2.

Thompkins, 15, 93.

Thompson, 93.

- Gerard fil. Thomas, A.

- Walter fil. Thomas, C.

Thoms, 93.

- Thomas Tomse, V 5.

- Nathan Tomse, V 5.

Thomsett, 93.

Thomson, 93.

- Thome fil. Thome, A.

- Maurice fil. Thome, C.

Thorald, 24.

- Torald Benig, A.

- Torald Camerarius, A.

- Ralph fil. Thorald, A.

Thorncombe, 125.

- Robert de Thorncoumbe, M.

Thornover, 128.

- William de Thornover, X X 4.

Thornthwaite, 121.

Thorowgood.

- William Thogood, L.

- Nicholas Thorowgood, Z.

Thorp, Thorpe, 137.

- Adam de Thorp, B.

- Robert de Thorpe, M.

Thousandpound, 513.

- Thomas Thousandpound, 513.

Thresher, 275.

Thropp, 137.

- Adam de la Thropp, A.

- Simon de Throp, B.

Thrower, 330.

- John Thrower, F F.

Throwster, 330.

Thrupp (v. Thropp), 137.

Thrush, 494.

Thrussel, 494.

- Thomas Thrustle, Z.

- John Throssell, Z Z.

Thurkell, 24.

- William Thurkel, M.

- Thurkeld le Seneschal, R.

Thurkettle, 24.

- Richard Thyrketyll, F.

- Robert Thirkettle, F F.

Thurkill, 24.

- Thomas Thurkill, D.

- Robert Thurkil, T.

Thwaites, 120.

- Thomas de Thwaytes, B.

- John del Thwaites, M.

Tibbald (v. Tebbott), 59.

- Thebald ad Cap. Ville, A.

- Tebald Archep. Cant. A.

Tibbat (v. Tebbott), 59.

- Robert Tebaud, M.

Tibbes, 59.

- John Tibbs, Z.

Tibbet, Tibbett, (v. Tebbot), 59.

- Tibota Foliot, A.

Tibble (v. Theobald), 59.

Tiddeman, 23.

- Tethingman de Auste, A.

- Tiddeman Boker, H.

- Tydyman le Swarte, N.

- Tideman de Winchcomb, H.

Tiffany, 72.

- Nicholas fil. Tiffaniæ, T.

- Thifania Simme, A.

- Tyffanie Seamor, Z.

- Teffania de Wildeker, E.

Tiger, 488.

Tileman, 211, 212.

- Walter Tileman, N.

- Geoffrey Tileman, A.

Tilewright, 278.

Till, 44.

- Alexander fil. Tylle, DD.

Tillman, 256.

- Henry Tilman, B B.

Tillot, 16, 44.

- Tyllot Thomson, W 9.

- William Tulyot, H.

- Cecilia Tillote, A.

Tillotson (v. Tillot), 16, 44.

Tillyer, 256.

- William Tillier, H.

Tilly, 44.

- John Tilly, A.

Tilson, 44.

- Roger Tilson, F.

- John Tilson, W 2.

- Alexander fil. Tylle, DD.

Timberman.

- John Timberman, Z.

Timbs (v. Timms), 98.

Timcock, 98.

- John Tymcock, H H.

- John Tymcock, V 5.

Timms, 98.

- John Timms, V 11.

Timson, 98.

Tinker (v. Tynker), 296.

- Richard le Tinekere, T.

- Peter le Teneker, A.

Tinkler, 296.

- Richard Tynkler, W 8.

- Alice Tynkeller, W 9.

Tipkins, 59.

Tipler.

- William Tipeler, A.

Tipper, 227.

- John le Tipper, M.

- William le Tipper, A.

Tippet, Tippetts, (v. Tibbetts), 59.

Tippins, 59.

Tipple (v. Tibble), 59.

Tipson, 59.

Tipstaffe, 461.

Tireman (v. Tyerman), 336.

- John Tireman, F F.

Todd, 489.

- Ive Todde, DD.

- John le Tod, M.

Toddler, 440.

- Ralph le Todeler, A.

Todhunter, 238.

Todman, 238.

- Robert Todman, S S.

Toleman (v. Tolman), 367.

Tollbooth, 412.

- Jeffrey Talboth, F F.

- Ermstrud Taleboth, N N.

Toller, 412.

- Ralph le Toller, B.

- Bartholomew le Tollere, M.

Tolly (v. Toly), 92.

Tolman, 412.

- Thomas Tolman, B.

Tolson (v. Bartholomew), 92.

- Henry Tolson, Z Z.

- Thomas Tolson, W 16.

- William the son of Tole (English Gilds, p. 150).

Toly (v. Bartholomew), 92.

- William fil. Tholy, E.

- Duce Toly, A.

Tom (v. Thomas), 93.

Tomkin, Tomkins, 15, 93.

- Nicholas Tomkins, Z.

- Richard Tomkins, Z.

Tomkinson, 15, 93.

Tomline, 93.

Tomlinson, 93.

- Thomas Tomplynson, F.

- Bernard Thomlynson, F.

- Robert Tomlynson, H.

Tompkins, 93.

- Katharine Tompkyns, Z.

- Richard Tompkins, Z.

Tompsett, 93.

Tompson, 93.

- Reginald Tompson, F.

- John Tomison, F F.

- Thomas Tomsone, W 19.

Tomsett, 73.

- Henry Tomset, Z.

Tonder, 381.

- Edmund le Tonder, F F.

Toneler, 381.

- William le Toneleur, H.

- Ralph le Toneler, A.

Tonkin, 54.

Tonson (v. Townson), 54.

Tonsor, 384.

- Ralph Tonsor, J.

Tony, 54.

- Richard le Tony, A.

- Stephen le Tony, A.

Topliff, 124.

Tort, 432.

- Ralph le Tort, R.

Tortesmaine, 437.

- Elias Tortman, R R.

Tortoiseshell, 501.

- Edward Tortoiseshell, v. p. 501.

Totiller, 480.

- John Totiller, H.

- Richard le Titteler, A.

Tower

- (1), 332.

- Hugh de la Tour, B.

- Henry atte Torre, T.

- (2),

- Gilbert le Tower, A.

- Thomas le Toure, A.

Towester, 332.

- Juliana la Touestre, A.

Towler (v. Toller).

- Thomas Towler, W 16.

Town, 137.

- William de la Toune, A.

Townend (v. Townsend), 114, 138.

Townegreen, 138.

- John atte Townegreene, M.

Townsend, 114, 138.

- John Attounsend, B.

- Henry ate Tunesende, A.

- Adam ate Tuneshende, A.

- Alice ate Tunishende, A.

Townson, 54.

- Jane Tounson, E.

- Robert Townson, V 7.

Towzer, Tozer, 320.

- John Toser, F.

Tragetour, 314.

- Symon le Tregetor, A.

- William le Tregetur, A.

Tranter, 285.

- Annes Tranter (v. Ludlow Church: Cam. Soc.)

Trapper, 239.

Traunter, 285.

- Agnes Traunter (v. Ludlow Church: Cam. Soc.)

Tribulation, 102.

Trop, 137.

- Walter de Torp, J.

- Osbert de Trop, T.

Trotman, Trotter, 440.

- Samuel Trotman, H H.

- Thomas Trotter, W 13.

- Richard Trotter, C.

Trout, 497.

Trower, 330.

True, 464.

Truebody, 439.

- Stephen Trewbody, H.

Truelove, 474.

- Richard Trewlove, G.

- Stephen Truelove, H.

Truman, 464.

- Agnes Treueman, A.

- Thomas Treweman, A.

Trumper, 183.

- William le Trompour, M.

- John le Trompour, M.

Truth, 103.

- Troth Bellingham, W 14.

Tubbs, 144.

Tubman.

- Henry Tubman, W 16.

- John Tubman, F.

Tucker, 324.

- Roger le Tukere, A.

- William le Touker, G.

- Peter Tuker, T.

- Percival le Toukere, M.

Tuckerman, 324.

Tuesday, 63.

- Richard Twyssoday, W 11.

- Thomas Twysday, H.

- John Tewsidaye, W 17.

Tumber, 308.

- William le Tumbere, M.

Tunder, 381.

- Hugh le Tundur, A.

- Ric. le Tundur, T.

Tune (v. Town), 137.

- Ralph de la Tune, B.

- Geoffrey de la Tune, A.

Tunner, 381.

- William le Tonier, H.

Tunnicliffe, 124.

Turbot, 497.

- Daniel Turbot, W 20.

- Thomas Turbot (Ct. of High Com. Sur. Soc.)

Turk, 162.

- Jacob le Turk, DD.

- William le Turc, A.

Turner, 391, 400.

- Aylbricht le Turnur, A.

- William le Tournour, G.

- Robert le Tornour, N.

Turnpeny, 482.

- John Turnpeny, D.

- Robert Turnepeny, G.

Turtle, 495.

- Roger Turtle, D.

- Reginald Turtel, A.

Twelvepence, 513.

- Fulco Twelpenes, A.

Twelvetrees, 129.

Twentimark, 513.

- John Twentimark, F F.

- William Twentymark, R R 1.

Twentyman, 271.

- Henry Twentyman, T T.

Twist, 432.

Twopenny, 168.

Two-year-old, 501.

- Thomas Twoyearolde, A A 1.

Tyerman, 336.

- Henry Tyerman, Q.

- John Tyerman, Z.

Tyler, 248, 279.

- Ralph le Tilere, A.

- Hugh le Tygheler, H.

- Adam le Tyghelere, M.

Tyner, 258.

- John le Tynere, M.

Tynker (v. Tinker), 296.

- Thomas le Tyneker, A.

Tyrer, 336.

- Richard Tyrer, R.

Tyson (v. Dyson), 70.

Ul-Kettle, 25 n.

- Ulchetel (Domesday B.)

- Ulchell, W 12.

- Ulchil, W 12.

Uncle, 429.

- John le Uncle, A.

- Robert Unkle, H.

Unity, 103.

- Unity Thornton, Q Q.

Unsworth, 134.

Upholder, 359.

- Richard Upholder, 359 n.

Upright.

- Richard Upright X.

Uriah, 100.

- Uriah Babington, T T.

Usher, 204.

- Alan le Usser, A.

- Nicholas le Usher, B.

- Julian le Usher, C.

Vache

- (1), 142.

- Richard de la Vache, A.

- (2), 485.

- Peter le Vache, A.

- Philip la Vache, C.

Vacher (v. Vatcher), 272.

Vadlet, Vallet, 507.

- John le Vadlet, T.

- Robert le Vallet, E.

Vanne, 276.

- Richard Atte Vanne, R.

- Robert de la Vanne, R.

Vanner, 276.

- Henry Vannere, X.

- Walter le Vanner, A.

Vatcher, 272.

- John le Vacher, R.

- Walter le Vacher, A.

Vavasor, 198.

- Jordan le Vavasur, R.

- William le Vavasor, H.

Vavasour, 198.

- Robert le Vavasour, B.

- Richard le Vavasour, H.

Veale, 432.

- Robert le Vele, H.

- William le Veel, R.

Veck, 186.

- Robert le Vecke, A.

Veile, 490.

- Thomas le Veyle, A.

- Hubert le Veyll, B.

Vender, 293.

- William le Vendour, D.

Veness, 162.

- John de Venuz, A.

- Leonard de Venetia, E.

Venner, 237.

- Robert le Venur, A.

- John le Venour, B.

- Thomas le Veneur, T.

Verjuice.

- John Vergoose, W 13.

Vesk (v. Veck), 186.

- Jacob le Veske, T.

- Nicholas Levesk, R.

Vestmentmaker, 339.

- Robert Vesmentmaker, W 2.

Vicar, 187.

- Reyner Vicarius, A.

- Gilbert Vicare, A.

Vicary, 187.

- Richard Vicary, B.

Vick (v. Veck), 186.

Vickerman, 187.

Vidler (v. Fiddler), 308.

Vielur (v. Vyler), 311.

- Jacob le Vielur, T.

- Uter le Vileur, E.

Vigorous, 466.

- Nicholas Vigerous, R.

- John Vygerous, X.

Vigors (v. Vigorous), 466.

Viler (v. Vyler), 311.

Villain, 255.

- Lambert le Vilein, C.

- Terri le Vileyn, H.

- Philip le Vylayn, T.

Villiers, 151.

- Gilbert de Vilers. E.

- Robert de Vilers, E.

Viner, 378, 261.

- Symon le Vynur, A.

- William le Viner, C.

- Roger le Vynour, G.

Vinter, 378.

- John le Vinetur, B.

- Ralph le Vineter, H.

- Alexander le Vineter, J.

Virtue, 103.

- Virtue Hunt, Z.

Viscount, 174.

- Eustace de Vechounte, A.

- John le Viscounte, B.

Vyler, 311.

- Benedict le Viler, B.

- Nicholas le Vylour, H.

- Wyot le Vilur, L.

Waddilove, Waddilow, 474.

- John Wade-in-love, N.

- William Wade-in-love, A.

Wadman, 323.

Wafer, 365.

- Simon le Wafre, K.

- Robert le Wafre, A.

Waferer, 365.

- William le Wayfre, J.

- Theobald Wayferer, W 2.

Wag.

- Robert le Wag, A.

- Robert Wagge, A.

Waghorn, 461.

Wagner, Wagoner, 288.

- Godemar le Waghener, DD.

- John Wiggoner, W 16.

Wagspear, 461.

- Mabill Wagsper, W 1.

Wagstaffe, 461.

- Robert Waggestaff, A.

- Edward Wagstaffe, P P.

Wagtail.

- Richard Wagetail, Y.

Wailer, 469.

- Robert le Walur, A.

- Peter le Walur, A.

Wainman, 288.

- Henry Wayneman, F.

- Hugh Wayneman, W 3.

Wainwright, 277.

- Thomas Wainwright, H.

- Henry Wainwright, W 2.

Wait, Waite, 183.

- Ralph le Weyte, A.

- Henry le Weyte, D.

- Robert le Wayte, H.

Wake, 301.

- Thomas le Wake, B.

- John le Wake, E.

Wakeman, 301.

- Jacob Waykman, F.

- Joan Wakeman, H.

Waldebeof, 500.

- Nicholas Waldebeof, B.

Waldeslade, 121.

- William Waldeslade, R R.

Walker, 324.

- Geoffrey le Walkere, A.

- Ralph le Walkere, T.

- Peter le Walkar, R.

Wallace, 149.

- John le Waleis, B.

- Ingleram le Waleys, B.

- Mabil le Walleys, J.

Waller, 249.

- Henry le Wallere, A.

- John le Wallere, X.

- Johann le Wallere, V 9.

Walrand, Walrond, 30.

- Walrand Clerk, A.

- Walran Oldman, A.

- Wallerand le Tyes, A.

- Robert Wallerond, G.

Walsh, 149.

- Howel le Walsshe, J.

- William le Wales, A.

Walshman, 149.

- Alan Walseman, R.

- William Walssheman, X.

Walter, 18, 53.

- Geoffrey fil. Walter, A.

- Walter le Graunt, T.

Walterot, Waltrot, 53.

- Thomas Waltrot, H.

Wand, 461.

Wanhope.

- Thomas Wanhope, W 11.

Want, 489.

- Walter le Wante, J.

- John Want, A.

Wanter, 238.

- Richard Wanter, J.

- Henry le Wantur, A.

Ward.

- Thomas le Ward, A.

- John le Ward, B.

Wardman.

- Christopher Wardeman, W 11.

- Alice Wardeman, W 16.

Warde-dieu, 511.

- Henry Wardedieu, F F.

Wardrop, 205.

- Adam de la Garderoba, B.

- Thomas de la Wardrobe, R.

Wardroper, 205.

- Elizabeth Wardraper, Z.

- Robert Wardropper, W 17.

Ware.

- John le Ware, A.

- Peter le Ware, E.

Wareing (v. Waring), 32.

Warin, Waring, 32.

- Warin Cruel, A.

- Warin de la Stane, A.

- Robert fil. Warin, A.

Warinot, 32.

- William Warinot, R.

- Robert Warinot, A.

Warison, 32.

- Warinus fil. Warin, B.

- John Warison, B.

- Mabil Warison, G.

Warner, 231.

- Jacke le Warner, A.

- Eustace le Warner, T.

Warnett (v. Warinot), 32.

Warren

- (1), 231.

- Richard de Waren, A.

- (2), 32.

- Robert fil. Warin, A.

- Warren le Latimer, H.

Warrener, 231.

- William le Warrener, A.

- Thomas le Warrener, H.

Warson (v. Warison), 32.

Washer, 362.

- John Wasshere, X.

- Gregory Wassher, V 3.

Wason (v. Warison), 32.

Wasp, 498.

- Roger le Waps, 498 n.

Wastehose, 457.

- Emma Wastehose, B.

- Richard Wastehose, J.

Wastel, 366.

- Richard Wastel, H.

Wasteler, 366.

- John Wasteler, M.

Watchorn, 461.

- Isaac Watchorn, 461 n.

- Henry Watchorn, P P.

Water

- (1), 115.

- Walter atte Watre, X.

- John de la Watre, A.

- (2), 53.

- Wauter Goldbeter, G.

- Wattare Taylor, v. p. 53 n.

- Water le Chesman, N N.

Waterbearer, 410.

- Richard Waterbearer, H.

Waterleader, 410.

- William Waterleader, D.

Waterman, 410.

- Adam le Waterman, A.

- Robert le Waterman, A.

Waters (v. Water), 54.

Watersmith, 283.

- William Watersmith, M.

Waterson, 54.

- William Watterson, W 11.

- John Waterson, W 16.

Watkins, Watkin, 54.

- Thomas ap Watkyn, B.

- Richard Watkins, H.

- Nicholas Watkin, W 16.

Watkinson, 54.

- Thomas Watkynson, H.

- John Watkynson, Z Z.

Watson, 54.

- Humfrey fil. Walter, T.

- Joan Wattson, W 2.

Watte, 54.

- Wat le Chevaller, A.

- Wat le Creyer, G.

- Watte fil. William DD.

Watts (v. Watson), 54.

- John Wattys, W 20.

Waxmaker, 387.

- John Wexmaker, F.

Wayte, 184.

- Ralph le Wayte, B.

- Stephen le Wayte, T.

Weaselhead, 447.

- Antony Wiselheade, Z Z.

Weathercock.

- John Wedercoc, E.

Weatherhead, Weatherherd, (v. Wetherherd), 267.

- William Wederherd, W 1.

- Richard Wetherherd, A.

Weaver, 322.

- Bennet Wever, H.

- Richard le Wovere, M.

Webbe, 322.

- Elyas le Webbe, A.

- Roger le Webbe, B.

- Simon le Webbe, N.

Webber, 321.

- Robert le Webber, B.

- Clarice le Webbere, B.

Webster, 321.

- John le Webestre, A.

- John le Webstere, G.

Weeks, 44.

- William Weeks, Z Z.

- John Weks, Z Z.

Weeper, 469.

- John le Weper, A.

- Henry le Weper, A.

Weigher, 411.

- Henry le Waiur, A.

Weightman, 411.

- John Weightman, Z Z.

Welcome, 512.

- John Welcome, Z Z.

Welfare, 512.

- Simon Welfare, A.

Weliking, 443.

- Alice Weliking, A.

Well (v. Atwell), 113.

- Jordan atte Welle, M.

- Henry de la Welle, A.

Wellbelove, Wellbeloved, 474.

- William Welbilove, O.

- Charles Wellbeloved, 420 n.

Weller, 113.

Wells (v. Well), 113.

Welman, 113.

Welsh (v. Walsh), 149.

- Henry Welsh, 149 n.

Welshman (v. Walshman).

- Lewis Welsheman, X X 1.

Wenman, 288.

- Thomas Weynman, F.

- Thomas Wenman, Z.

West, 150.

- Simon West, R.

- Emma West, A.

West-end, 115.

- Mabil ate Westende, A.

- William atte Westende, M.

Westrop, 137.

Westrys, 150.

- Richard le Westreys, T.

- Roger le Westereys, A.

- Geoffrey le Westreys, V 8.

Wetherhead, Wetherherd, (v. Weatherherd), 267.

- John Wetherhird, O.

Whaite, 184.

- Robert le Whayte, B.

Whale, 497.

- Thomas le Whal, B.

- Ralph le Wal, A.

Wheeler, 277.

- Robert le Whelere, G.

- Hugh le Welere, A.

Wheelwright, 277.

- Walter Welwryghte, A.

- Alan Quelewrighte, W 2.

- John Quwelewright, W 9.

Whelk, 497 n.

- Matilda le Welke, A.

Welkshorn, 497 n.

- William Welkeshorn, A.

Whirlpeny, 483.

- Ralph Whirlepeni, A.

Whitbread, 367, 508.

- Henry Whitbread, H.

- William Whitebread, Z.

Whitbred, 367, 508.

- William Wytebred, A.

- John Whitebread, C.

Whitbeard, 449.

- Philip Wytberd, J.

- William Witberd, R.

White, 445.

- Stephen le Whyte, B.

- Roger le White, G.

- Hugh le Wyt, A.

Whiteflesh, 442.

- William Whiteflesh, A.

Whitehair, 448.

- William Whiteheare, v. p. 448.

- George Whitehair, Q Q.

Whitehand, 442.

- Gilbert Whithand, T.

- William Whitehand, 442.

- Humbert Whitehand, P P.

Whitehead, 447.

- Reginald Whiteved, T.

- Rauf Whytehed, W 2.

- Henry Quytheved, R.

- John Qhwiteheved, W 9.

Whitehorn, 461.

- John Wytthorne, H H.

- George Wythorne, H H.

Whitehorse, 145, 485.

- Walter de Whitehorse, C.

- Walter Whithors, R R 1.

Whiteking, 176 n., 505.

- Roger Wyteking, K.

Whiteknave, 505.

- Acelin Wyteknave, A.

Whitelamb, 491 n.

- Isabel Whitlamb, W 14.

Whitelock, 447.

- Henry Wytloc, A.

- William Witloc, A.

Whiteman, 445.

- William Whytman, B.

- Audrey Whiteman, Z.

Whiter, 328.

White-richard, 504.

- Richard Whyt-rychard, J.

Whiting, 497.

Whiteslade, 121.

- Richard de Wytslade, H.

- Ralph Wyttslayd, DD.

Whitesmith, 281.

- Robert le Withsmyth, A.

- William le Wytesmyth, M.

Whitlock, 447.

- Philip Whytelock, G.

- John Whitelock, P.

Whitster, 328.

Whitsunday, 62.

- William Wytesoneday, A.

Whittaker, 134.

- Richard de Whytacre, J.

- Jordan de Whitacre, R.

Whittear, Whittier, 331.

- Thomas le Wytewere, A.

- Geoffrey le Whitetawier, N.

- Eustace le Wittowere, A.

Whittle, 455.

Whitworth, 134.

Whityer (v. Whittier), 331.

Whyman, 272.

Wick, 114.

- Henry de la Wyk, A.

- Richard at Wyke, M.

Wickend, 114.

- John de la Wykend, A.

Wickerson, 44.

Wickins, 44.

Wickman.

- Richard Wycman, A.

Widehose, 457.

- Richard Wydhose, A.

Widowson

- (1), 429.

- William le Wedwesone, R.

- Simon fil. Vidue, A.

- William Widowson, Z.

- (2), 429 n.

- William fil. Wydo, A.

- William fil. Wydonis, E (v. Guy).

Wight, 433.

Wightman, 433.

- Gilbert Wyghtman, B.

- William Wightman, P.

Wilcocks, 15, 44.

- Willecoccus Russell, A.

- Wylekoc Hervy, A.

- William Wilkokys, H.

Wilcockson, 15, 44.

- Richard Wylcokson, F.

- John ap Wilcok, B.

Wilcox (v. Wilcocks), 15, 44.

Wilcoxon (v. Wilcockson), 15, 44.

Wild, 484.

- Nicholas le Wild, A.

- William le Wild, M.

Wildblood, 484.

- Richard Wyldeblode, W 9.

Wildbœf, 500.

- Amice le Wildebœf, A.

- David Wyldebuff, A.

Wildbore, 491.

- Robert Wildboar, M.

- Richard Wildbore, Z Z.

Wild, Wilde,

- Walter le Wilde, A.

- Emma la Willde, A.

Wildgoose, 494.

- John Wildgoose, Z.

- Edric Wildegos, G G.

- Ursula Wildgoose, T T.

Wildsmith, 283.

- Thomas Wildsmith, W 16.

Wilfull, 464.

- William le Wilfulle, A.

Wilkins, Wilkin, 44.

- Wilkin le Furmager, O.

- Wilekin fil. Austen, C.

- Ralph Wylkyns, F.

- Dorothy Wilkin, W 16.

Wilkinson, 44.

- John Wylkynson, F.

- Christopher Wilkynson, H.

Wilks, 44.

- Henry Wylkys, F.

- Elizabeth Wilkes, Z.

Willert (v. Willett), 44.

Willett (v. Willott), 44.

- Thomas Wylott, F.

William, 41.

- William fil. Karoli, T.

- William fil. Letitiæ, T.

Williamet (v. Wilmot), 44.

- Willametta Cantatrix, E.

- Gwillimett, E.

Williams (v. Williamson), 44.

- John Willyams, X X 1.

- Richard Williamys, X X 1.

Williamot (v. Wilmot), 16, 44.

- Gilemota Carrecke, W 2.

- John Willimote, 48 n.

Williamson, 44.

- John fil. William, C.

- Avice fil. William, T.

- Thomas Williamssone, X X 1.

Willis, 44.

- Robert Willys, F.

Willison, 44.

- Richard Willyson, F.

- Richard Wyllyson, V 2.

Willmot (v. Wilmot), 16, 44.

Willott, 44.

- Richard Wylyot, A.

- Thomas Wiliot, J.

- John Wylot, M.

Wills, 44.

- Richard Willes, A.

- Hamon Wills, Z.

Willsher, 147.

- Richard Wilteshire, B.

- Almaric de Wilteshire, Z.

- William de Wiltesire, M M.

Wilmot, 44.

- John Wylemot, M.

- Wilmot Furze, Z.

- John Wylmott, F.

Wilson, 44.

- Robert Wylson, F.

- Americ Wylson, W 3.

Wimpeny, 482.

Wimpler (v. Wympler), 341.

- Henry le Wimpler, A.

- William le Wympler, N.

Winder, 399.

- John le Winder, A.

- Richard le Windere, A.

Winlove, 474.

- Hugh Winne-love, M.

Windmillward, 275 n.

- William Wyndmilward, D.

Winner, 275.

- Roger le Wyner, R.

Winpeny, 482.

Winsome, 443.

- Matilda Wensom, A.

Winspear, 462.

Winter, 378.

- Adam le Wyneter, R.

- John Winter, H.

Winthrop, 137.

- Bartholomew Wintrup, W 16.

- John Wynthropp, Z.

Wiredrawer.

- William le Wirdrawere, X.

- Rauf le Wyrdrawere, X.

Wisdom.

- Stephen Wysdom, A.

- William Wisdom, E.

Wise, 463.

- Thomas le Wise, A.

- Ernald le Wyse, T.

Wisebeard, 449.

- John Wisebeard, H H.

- Ellen Wisebeard, H H.

Wiseman, 305.

- John Wyseman, H.

- William Wysman, X.

Withecomb, 125.

- Robert Wythecomb, M.

Withibeard (v. Beard), 449.

- John Wytheberd, R R 1.

- Peter Wi-the-berd, D.

Withipoll, 182.

- Poule Withipoule, C C 4.

- Edmund Withipole, T T.

- Sir William Withipole, V 6.

Without-the-town, 138.

- Robert Withoutentoun, A.

Witty, 465.

- Thomas Witte, A.

- Thedric le Witte, A.

Wolf, 488.

- Adam le Wolf, H.

- Philip le Wolf, M.

Wolfenden, 118.

- Robert Wolveden, W 9.

- Robert Wolfenden, Z Z.

Wolfhunt, 237.

- Richard le Wulfhunt, A.

- Walter le Wolfhunt, B.

- John Wolfhunte, G.

Wolsey, 169.

- Johanna Wolsy, X.

Wonte, 145.

- Reginald de la Wonte, A.

Wood, 110.

- John atte Wode, B.

- Richard de la Wode, A.

Woodale, Woodall, (v. Woodwale), 495.

Woodard (v. Woodward), 231.

- Alan Wodard, A.

Woodcock, 494.

- Wydo Wodecok, A.

- Walter Wodekok, B.

Wooder, 264, 323.

- Roger le Woder, H.

- Thomas le Wodere, M.

- Robert le Woder, E.

Woodgate, 129.

- Richard atte Wodegate, M.

Woodhaye, 133.

- Thomas de la Woodhaye, A.

- Richard de la Wodehaye, R.

Woodhewer, 264.

- Robert le Wodehyewere, H.

Woodhird, 269.

- Richard le Wodehird, A.

- William le Wodehirde, M.

Woodhouse, 131.

- Petronil de la Wodehouse, B.

- John atte Wodehouse, X.

Woodkeeper, 231.

- Thomasine Woodkeeper, T T.

Woodlark, 494.

- Robert Wodelark, H.

Woodman, 113, 264, 323.

- Eudo Wudeman, A.

- Alan Wodeman, B.

Woodmonger, 264, 403.

- Robert Wudemongere, A.

Woodreefe, Woodroff, 231.

- John Woodrofe, W 18.

- Walter Woderove, A.

Woodrow, 231.

- Hugh Woderoue, A.

- Ralph Woderoue, A.

Woodruff, 231.

- George Woodruffe, Z.

- Edmund Woodruff, Z.

Woodshend, 114.

- Adam de Wodeshend, A.

- John Wodeshend, W 8.

Woodus (v. Woodhouse), 131.

- Richard del Wodehus, A.

Woodward, 231.

- Aylward le Wodeward, A.

- Walter le Wodeward, B.

- William le Wodeward, G.

Woodwale, Woodwall, 495.

Woodyat, Woodyate, (v. Woodgate), 129.

- William de Wudyate, E.

Woodyear (v. Wooder), 113.

Woodyer (v. Wooder), 113.

Wooer, 474.

- Hugh le Wewer, R.

- John le Wower, A.

Wooeress, 474.

- Emma Woweres, A.

Woolard (v. Woolward), 459.

Woolbeater, 326.

- John Wollebeter, 326 n.

Woolbuyer, 319.

- Geoffrey le Wollebyer, M.

Woolcombe, 125.

Wooler, 318.

- David le Woller, C.

- John Wooler (Maitland’s London).

Woolman, 318.

- Agnes Woleman, G.

- Walter Woleman, J.

Woolmonger, 319.

- Walter le Wollemonger, A.

- Morekin le Wolemongere, A.

- Roger le Wolmonger, M.

Woolpacker, 319.

Woolward, 459.

- Geoffrey Woleward, A.

- Reginald Wolleward, N.

- Michael Wollward, J.

Workman.

- Gilbert le Worcman, A.

- John Workman, T T.

Worship, 511.

- Thomas Worthship, G.

- Hugh Worshipp, Z.

Worth, 134.

- Richard de la Worthe, A.

- Reginald de la Wurth, E.

Wortley, 134.

Would-have, 483.

- Robert Would-have, W 16.

Wrangservice, 424.

- Thomas Wrangeservis, M.

Wray (v. Ray), 489.

Wren, 494.

- Geoffrey Wren, O.

- Alice Wrenn, A.

Wright, 277.

- Richard le Wryght, M.

- Roger le Wricte, A.

- Margery le Wrytte, A.

Wrightson, 65.

- Ann Wrighteson, W 9.

- John Wrightson, Z.

- Michael Wrightson, W 16.

Writer, 406.

Wulfketel, 24.

- William Ulfketel, E.

- Wulfkeytl, p. 24.

Wyatt, 36.

- Wyot fil. Helias, DD.

- Wyott Carpentarius, A.

- Wyot Balistarius, E.

Wyld (v. Wild).

Wyman, 272.

Wympler (v. Wimpler), 341.

- John le Wympler, X.

- Alan le Wympler, A.

Yates, 129.

- John atte Yate, B.

- John At-yates, F F.

- Henry atte Yate, M.

- Roger atte Yate, H.

Yeame (v. Eame), 429.

Yeatherd, 266.

Yeatman, 266.

Yellowhair, 448.

- Thomas Yalowehair, E.

Yeoman, 253.

- William Yeaman, Z.

Yeomanson.

- Robert Yomanson, F.

Yoman (v. Yeoman), 253.

Yonge (v. Young), 433.

- William le Yonge, B.

- John le Yonge, A.

Yongeman, 433.

- William Yongeman, M.

Young, 431.

- Richard le Yunge, L.

- Ralph le Younge, A.

Youngebond, 505.

- Nicholas le Yongebond, M.

Younger, 432.

- Robert Yonger, W 3.

- William Yongere, M.

Younghusband, 505.

- Roger le Yonghusband, G.

- Thomas le Younghusbond, M.

Young-John, 503.

Youngman, 382.

- William le Yungeman, B.

- William Yungman, R.

Youngservant.

- Ricardus Yongesuaynt, X X 3.

Youngsmith, 283, 505.

- John Yongsmith, F.

- Bartholomew Youngesmithe, W 13.

Yule, 62.

- John Yule, Q.

Zabulon, 100.

- Zabulon Clerke, Z.

Zachæus, 100.

- Zachæus Ivott, T T.

LONDON: PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET

Now publishing in Twenty-four Monthly Parts, quarto, at Five Shillings, profusely Illustrated by Plates and Wood Engravings; with each part will also be issued a Splendid Coloured Plate, from an Original Painting or Illumination, of Royal and Noble Personages and National Costume, both Foreign and Domestic.

THE
CYCLOPÆDIA OF COSTUME;
OR, A
DICTIONARY OF DRESS,
Regal, Ecclesiastical, Civil, and Military.

From the Earliest Period in England to the Reign
of George the Third.
INCLUDING NOTICES OF CONTEMPORANEOUS
FASHIONS ON THE CONTINENT;
AND PRECEDED BY
A General History of the Costumes
OF THE
PRINCIPAL COUNTRIES OF EUROPE.
BY
J. R. PLANCHÉ
SOMERSET HERALD.

CHATTO & WINDUS, Publishers, PICCADILLY, W.

ADVERTISEMENT.

In collecting materials for a History of Costume of more importance than the little Handbook which has met with so much favour as an elementary work, I was not only made aware of my own deficiencies, but surprised to find how much more vague are the explanations and contradictory the statements of our best authorities than they appeared to me when, in the plenitude of my ignorance, I rushed upon almost untrodden ground, and felt bewildered by the mass of unsifted evidence and unhesitating assertion which met my eyes at every turn.

During the forty years which have elapsed since the publication of the first edition of my ‘History of British Costume’ in ‘The Library of Entertaining Knowledge,’ archæological investigation has received such an impetus by the establishment of metropolitan and provincial peripatetic antiquarian societies, that a flood of light has been poured upon us, by which we are enabled to re-examine our opinions, and discover reasons to doubt, if we cannot find facts to authenticate.

That the former greatly preponderate is a grievous acknowledgment to make after assiduously devoting the leisure of half my life to the pursuit of information on this, to me, most fascinating subject. It is some consolation, however, to feel that, where I cannot instruct, I shall certainly not mislead, and that the reader will find, under each head, all that is known to or suggested by the most competent writers I am acquainted with, either here or on the Continent.

That this work appears in a glossarial form arises from the desire of many artists who have expressed to me the difficulty they constantly meet in their endeavours to ascertain the complete form of a garment, or the exact mode of fastening a piece of armour, or the buckling of a belt, from their study of a sepulchral effigy or a figure in an illumination; the attitude of the personages represented or the disposition of other portions of their attire effectively preventing the requisite examination.

The books supplying any such information are very few, and the best confined to armour or ecclesiastical costume. The only English publication of the kind required, that I am aware of, is the late Mr. Fairholt’s ‘Costume in England’ (8vo. London, 1846), the last two hundred pages of which contain a glossary; the most valuable portion whereof are the quotations from old plays, mediæval romances, and satirical ballads containing allusions to various articles of attire in fashion at the time of their composition. Twenty-eight years have expired since that book appeared, and it has been thought that a more comprehensive work on the subject than has yet issued from the English press, combining the pith of the information of many costly foreign publications, and in its illustrations keeping in view the special requirements of the artist to which I have alluded, would be, in these days of educational progress and critical inquiry, a welcome addition to the library of an English gentleman.

J. R. PLANCHÉ.

College of Arms.

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.

- Transcriber’s Notes:

- There are many instances of words and names that are hyphenated in the body of the book, but not in the index. There are a few that are hyphenated in the index, but not in the body of the book. The hyphenation was left as printed.

- Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.

- Typographical errors were silently corrected.

- Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a predominant form was found in this book.

- The footnotes have been gathered into one section at the end of the book.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH SURNAMES: THEIR SOURCES AND SIGNIFICATIONS ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that:

- • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”

- • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.

- • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.

- • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

Table of Contents

- ENGLISH SURNAMES.

- PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

- PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

- PREFACE TO THE INDEX OF INSTANCES.

- CONTENTS.

- INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.

- CHAPTER I. PATRONYMIC SURNAMES.

- I.—Names that preceded and survived the Conquest.

- II.—Names introduced or confirmed by the Normans.

- III.—Names from the Calendar of the Saints.

- IV.—Names chosen from Festivals and Holydays.

- V.—Patronymics formed from Occupations.

- VI.—Metronymics.

- VII.—Names Derived from Holy Scripture.

- CHAPTER II. LOCAL SURNAMES.

- CHAPTER III. SURNAMES OF OFFICE.

- CHAPTER IV. SURNAMES OF OCCUPATION (COUNTRY).

- CHAPTER V. SURNAMES OF OCCUPATION. (TOWN).

- Appendix to Chapters IV. and V.

- CHAPTER VI. ‘Nicknames.’

- I.—Physical and External Peculiarities.

- (1) Nicknames from Peculiarities of Relationship, Age, Size, and Capacity.

- (2) Nicknames from Peculiarities of Complexion.

- (3) Nicknames from Peculiarities of Dress and 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.

- (3) Nicknames from Oaths, Exclamations, Street-cries, and Mottoes.

- INDEX OF INSTANCES.
- FOOTNOTES
- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE