It is likely that Nevison and Nevinson are sometimes derivatives of this word.

Child was sometimes used in the special sense of youth of gentle blood, or young knight; cf. Childe Harold and Childe Rowland (Lear, iii. 4). But the more general meaning may be assumed in its compounds, of which the most interesting is Leifchild, dear-child, a fairly common name in Anglo-Saxon. The corresponding Faunt, whence Fauntleroy (Chapter XV), is now rare. Another word, now only used in dialect or by affectation, is "bairn," a frequent source of the very common surname Barnes; cf. Fairbairn and Goodbairn, often perverted to Fairburn, Goodburn, Goodban. Barnfather is about equivalent to Lat. paterfamilias, but Pennefather is an old nickname for a miser—

The name Bastard was once considered no disgrace if the dishonour came from a noble source, and several great medieval warriors bore this sobriquet. With this we may compare Leman or Lemon, Mid. Eng. leof-man, dear man, beloved, and Paramor, Fr. par amour, an example of an adverbial phrase that has become a noun. This expression, used of lawful love in Old French, in the stock phrase "aimer une belle dame par amour," had already an evil meaning by Chaucer's time—

With these names we may put Drewry or Drury, sweetheart, from the Old French abstract druerie, of Germanic origin and cognate with true—

Suckling is a nickname applied to a helpless person; cf. Littlechild and "milksop," which still exists, though rare, in the forms Milsopp and Mellsop. The heir survives as Ayre and Eyre. Batchelor, the origin of which is one of the etymological problems yet unsolved, had in Old French and Mid. English also the meaning of young warrior or squire. Chaucer's Squier is described as—

May, maiden, whence Mildmay, is used by Chaucer for the Holy Virgin

This is the same word as Mid. Eng. mai, relative, cognate with maid and Gaelic Mac- (Chapter VI). A form of it survives in the Nottingham name Watmough and perhaps in Hickmott—

"Mow, housbandys sister or syster in law" (Prompt. Parv.).

I imagine that William Echemannesmai, who owed the Treasury a mark in 1182, was one of the sponging fraternity.

Virgoe, a latinization of Virgin, is perhaps due to a shop-sign. Rigmaiden, explained by Lower as "a romping girl," is local, from a place in Westmorland. Richard de Riggemayden was living in Lancashire in 1307. With this group of names we may put Gossip, originally a god-parent, lit. related in God, from Mid. Eng. sib, kin.

With names like Farebrother, Goodfellow, we may compare some of French origin such as Bonser (bon sire), Bonamy, and Bellamy

Beldam (belle dame), originally a complimentary name for grandmother or grandam, has become uncomplimentary in meaning—

From the corresponding Old Fr. bel-sire, beau-sire, we have Bewsher, Bowser, and the Picard form Belcher

Relationship was often expressed by the use of French words, so that for son-in-law we find Gender, Ginder, corresponding to Fr. Legendre. Fitch, usually an animal nickname (Chapter XXIII), is occasionally for le fiz, the son, which also survives as Fitz. Goodson, from the personal name Good (Chapter I), is sometimes registered as Fiz Deu. Cf. Fr. Lefilleul, i.e. the godson.

ABSTRACTS

A possible derivative of the name May (Chapter XXI) is Ivimey. Holly and Ivy were the names of characters in Christmas games, and an old rime says

If Ivimey is from this source, the same origin must sometimes be allowed to Holliman (Chapter I). This conjecture [Footnote: Probably a myth. See my Surnames, p. 197.] has in its favour the fact that many of our surnames are undoubtedly derived from characters assumed in dramatic performances and popular festivities. To this class belong many surnames which have the form of abstract nouns, e.g. Charity, Verity, Virtue, Vice. Of similar origin are perhaps Bliss, Chance, Luck, and Goodluck; cf. Bonaventure. Love, Luff, occurs generally as a personal name, hence the dim. Lufkins, but it is sometimes a nickname. Lovell, Lovett, more often mean little wolf. Both Louvet and Louveau are common French surnames. The name Lovell, in the wolf sense, was often applied to a dog, as in the famous couplet

for which William Collingborne was executed in 1484. Lowell is a variant of Lovell.

But many apparent abstract names are due to folk-etymology, e.g. Marriage is local, Old Fr. marage, marsh, and Wedlock is imitative for Wedlake; cf. Mortlock for Mortlake and perhaps Diplock for deep-lake. Creed is the Anglo-Saxon personal name Creda. Revel, a common French surname, is a personal name of obscure origin. Want is the Mid. Eng. wont, mole, whence Wontner, mole-catcher. It is difficult to see how such names as Warr, Battle, and Conquest came into existence. The former, found as de la warre, is no doubt sometimes local (Chapter XIII), and Battle is a dim. of Bat (Chapter VI). But de la batayle is also a common entry, and Laguerre and Labataille are common French surnames.

COSTUME

A nickname was often conferred in connection with some external object regularly associated with the individual. Names taken from shop-signs really belong to this class. Corresponding to our Hood [Footnote: Hood may also be for Hud (Chapter I), but the garment is made into a personal name in Little Red Ridinghood, who is called in French le petit Chaperon Rouge.] we have Fr. Capron (chaperon). Burdon, Fr. bourdon, meant a staff, especially a pilgrim's staff. Daunger is described as having—

But the name Burdon is also local. Bracegirdle, i.e. breeks-girdle, must have been the nickname of one who wore a gorgeous belt. It is a curious fact that this name is chiefly found in the same region (Cheshire) as the somewhat similar Broadbelt. The Sussex name Quaile represents the Norman pronunciation of coif. More usually an adjective enters into such combinations. With the historic Curthose, Longsword, Strongbow we may compare Shorthouse, a perversion of shorthose, Longstaff, Horlock (hoar), Silverlock, Whitlock, etc. Whitehouse is usually of local origin, but has also absorbed the medieval names Whitehose and White-hawse, the latter from Mid. Eng. hawse, neck. Woollard may be the Anglo-Saxon personal name Wulfweard, but is more probably from woolward, i.e. without linen, a costume assumed as a sign of penitence

The three names Medley, Medlicott, and Motley go together, though all three of them may be local (the mid-lea, the middle-cot, and the moat-lea). Medley mixed, is the Anglo-French past participle of Old Fr. mesler (mêler). Motley is of unknown origin, but it was not necessarily a fool's dress—

So also the Serjeant of the Law was distinguished his, for the period, plain dress—

Gildersleeve is now rare in England, though it still flourishes in the United States. [Footnote: We have several instances of this phenomenon. A familiar example is Lippincott, a surname of local origin (Devonshire). But Bardsley's inclusion of American statistics is often misleading. It is a well-known fact that the foreign names of immigrants are regularly assimilated to English forms in the United States. In some cases, such as Cook for Koch, Cope (Chapter XII) for Kopf, Stout (Chapter XXII) for Stolz or Stultz, the change is etymologically justified. But in other cases, such as Tallman for Thalmann, dale-man, Trout for Traut, faithful, the resemblance is accidental. Beam and Chestnut, common in the States but very rare in England, represent an imitative form of Böhm or Behm, Bohemian, and a translation of Kestenbaum, chestnut tree, both Jewish names. The Becks and Bowmans of New York outnumber those of London by about five to one, the first being for Beck, baker (Chapter XV), and the second for Baumann, equivalent to Bauer, farmer. Bardsley explains the common American name Arrison by the fact that there are Cockneys in America. It comes of course from Arend, a Dutch name related to Arnold.

"A remarkable record in changes of surname was cited some years ago by an American correspondent of Notes and Queries. 'The changes which befell a resident of New Orleans were that when he moved from an American quarter to a German neighbourhood his name of Flint became Feuerstein, which for convenience was shortened to Stein. Upon his removal to a French district he was re-christened Pierre. Hence upon his return to an English neighbourhood he was translated into Peters, and his first neighbours were surprised and puzzled to find Flint turned Peters.'"

PHYSICAL FEATURES

Names like Beard, Chinn, Tooth were conferred because of some prominent feature. In Anglo-French we find Gernon, moustache, now corrupted to Garnham, and also al gernon, with the moustache, which has become Algernon. But we have already seen (Chapter XIII) that some names which appear to belong to this class are of local origin. So also Tongue is derived from one of several places named Tong or Tonge, though the ultimate origin is perhaps in some cases the same, a "tongue" of land. Quartermain is for Quatre-mains, perhaps bestowed on a very acquisitive person; Joscius Quatre-buches, four mouths, and Roger Tunekes, two necks, were alive in the twelfth century; and there is record of a Saracen champion named Quinze-paumes, though this is perhaps rather a measure of height. Cheek I conjecture to be for Chick. The odd-looking Kidney is apparently Irish. There is a rare name Poindexter, appearing in French as Poingdestre, "right fist." [Footnote: President Poincaré's name appears to mean "square fist."] I have seen it explained as from the heraldic term point dexter, but it is rather to be taken literally. I find Johannes cum pugno in 1184, and we can imagine that such a name may have been conferred on a medieval bruiser. There is also the possibility, considering the brutality of many old nicknames, that the bearer of the name had been judicially deprived of his right hand, a very common punishment, especially for striking a feudal superior. Thus Renaut de Montauban, finding that his unknown opponent is Charlemagne, exclaims—

We have some nicknames describing gait, e.g. Ambler and Shaylor—

and perhaps sometimes Trotter. If George Eliot had been a student of surnames she would hardly have named a heroine Nancy Lammiter, i.e. cripple—

Pettigrew and Pettifer are of French origin, pied de grue (crane) and pied de fer. The former is the origin of the word pedigree, from a sign used in drawing genealogical trees. The Buckinghamshire name Puddifoot or Puddephatt (Podefat, 1273) and the aristocratic Pauncefote are unsolved. The former may be a corruption of Pettifer, which occurs commonly, along with the intermediate Puddifer, in the same county. But the English Dialect Dictionary gives as an obsolete Northants word the adjective puddy, stumpy, pudgy, applied especially to hands, fingers, etc., and Pudito (puddy toe) occurs as a surname in the Hundred Rolls. As for Pauncefote, I believe it simply means what it appears to, viz. "belly-foot," a curious formation, though not without parallels, among obsolete rustic nicknames. If these two conjectures are correct, both Puddifoot and Pauncefote may be almost literal equivalents of the Greek OEdipus, i.e. "swell-foot."

In other languages as well as English we find money nicknames. It is easy to understand how some of these come into existence, e.g. that Pierce. Pennilesse was the opposite of Thomas Thousandpound, whose name occurs c. 1300. With the latter we may compare Fr. Centlivre, the name of an English lady dramatist of the eighteenth century. Moneypenny is found in 1273 as Manipeni, and a Londoner named Manypeny died in 1348. The Money- is partly north country, partly imitative.

Money itself is usually occupative or local (Chapter XVII), and Shilling is the Anglo-Saxon name Scilling. The oldest and commonest of such nicknames is the simple Penny, with which we may compare the German surname Pfennig and its compounds Barpfennig, Weisspfennig, etc. The early adoption of this coin-name as a personal name is due to the fact that the word was taken in the sense of money in general. We still speak of a rich man as "worth a pretty penny." Hallmark is folk-etymology for the medieval Half-mark. Such medieval names as Four-pence, Twenty-mark, etc., probably now obsolete, are paralleled by Fr. Quatresous and Sixdenier, still to be found in the Paris Directory. It would be easy to form conjectures as to the various ways in which such names may have come into existence. To the same class must belong Besant, the name of a coin from Byzantium, its foreign origin giving it a dignity which is absent from the native Farthing and Halfpenny, though the latter, in one instance, was improved beyond recognition into MacAlpine.

IMPRECATIONS

There is also a small group of surnames derived from oaths or exclamations which by habitual use became associated with certain individuals. We know that monarchs had a special tendency to indulge in a favourite expletive. To Roger de Collerye we owe some information as to the imprecations preferred by four French kings—

So important was this branch of linguistics once considered that Palsgrave, the French tutor of Princess Mary Tudor, includes in his Esclarcissement de la Langue Francoyse a section on "The Maners of Cursyng." Among the examples are "Le grant diable luy rompe le col et les deux jambes," "Le diable l'emporte, corps et ame, tripes et boyaux," which were unfortunately too long for surname purposes, but an abridged form of "Le feu Saint Anthoyne l'arde" [Footnote: Saint Anthony's fire, i.e. erysipelas, burn him!] has given the French name Feulard. Such names, usually containing the name of God, e.g. Godmefetch, Helpusgod, have mostly disappeared in this country; but Dieuleveut and Dieumegard are still found in Paris, and Gottbehüt, God forbid, and Gotthelf, God help, occur in German. Godbehere still exists, and there is not the slightest reason why it should not be of the origin which its form indicates. In Gracedieu, thanks to God, the second element is an Old French dative. Pardoe, Purdue, whence Purdey, is for par Dieu-—

There is a well-known professional footballer named Mordue ('sdeath), and a French composer named Boieldieu (God's bowels). The French nickname for an Englishman, goddam—

goes back to the fifteenth century, in which invective references to the godons are numerous. [Footnote: "Les Anglais en vérité ajoutent par-ci, par-là quelques autres mots en conversant; mais il est bien aisé de voir que goddam est le fond de la langue" (Beaumarchais, Mariage de Figaro, iii. 5).]

Such nicknames are still in common use in some parts of France—

PHRASE-NAMES

Perhaps the most interesting group of nicknames is that of which we may take Shakespeare as the type. Incidentally we should be thankful that our greatest poet bore a name so much more picturesque than Corneille, crow, or Racine, root. It is agreed among all competent scholars that in compounds of this formation the verb was originally an imperative. This is shown by the form; cf. ne'er-do-well, Fr. vaurien, Ger. Taugenichts, good-for-naught. Thus Hasluck cannot belong to this class, but must be an imitative form of the personal name Aslac, which we find in Aslockton.

As Bardsley well says, it is impossible to retail all the nonsense that has been written about the name Shakespeare—"never a name in English nomenclature so simple or so certain in its origin; it is exactly what it looks— shake-spear." The equivalent Schüttespeer is found in German, and we have also in English Shakeshaft, Waghorn, Wagstaff, Breakspear, Winspear. "Winship the mariner" was a freeman of York in the fourteenth century. Cf. Benbow (bend-bow), Hurlbatt, and the less athletic Lovejoy, Makepeace. Gathergood and its opposite Scattergood are of similar origin, good having here the sense of goods. Dogood is sometimes for Toogood, and the latter may be, like Thoroughgood, an imitative form of Thurgod (Chapter VII); but both names may also be taken literally, for we find Ger. Thunichtgut, do no good, and Fr. Trodoux (trop doux).

As a pendant to Dolittle we find a medieval Hack-little, no doubt a lazy wood-cutter, while virtue is represented by a twelfth-century Tire-little. Sherwin represents the medieval Schere-wynd, applied to a swift runner; cf. Ger. Schneidewind, cut wind, and Fr. Tranchevent. A nurseryman at Highgate has the appropriate name Cutbush, the French equivalent of which, Taillebois, has given us Tallboys; and a famous herbalist was named Culpepper. In Gathercole the second element may mean cabbage or charcoal. In one case, Horniblow for horn-blow, the verb comes after its object.

Names of this formation are very common in Mid. English as in Old French, and often bear witness to a violent or brutal nature. Thus Scorch-beef, which is found in the Hundred Rolls, has no connection with careless cookery; it is Old Fr. escorche (écorche) -buef, flay ox, a name given to some medieval "Skin-the-goat." Catchpole (Chapter XX) is formed in the same way, and in French we find, applied to law officials, the surnames Baillehart, give halter, [Footnote: Bailler, the usual Old French for to give, is still used colloquially and in dialect.] and Baillehache, give axe, the latter still appropriately borne, as Bailhache, by an English judge.

It has sometimes been assumed that most names of this class are due to folk-etymology. The frequency of their occurrence in Mid. English and in continental languages makes it certain that the contrary is the case and that many surnames of obscure origin are perversions of this very large and popular class. I have seen it stated somewhere that Shakespeare is a corruption of an Old French name Sacquespée, [Footnote: Of common occurrence in Mid. English records.] the theorist being apparently unable to see that this latter, meaning draw-sword, is merely an additional argument, if such were needed, for the literal interpretation of the English name. [Footnote: In one day's reading I came across the following Mid. English names: Baillebien (give good), Baysedame (kiss lady), Esveillechien (wake dog), Lievelance (raise lance), Metlefrein (put the bridle), Tracepurcel (track hog), Turnecotel (turn coat), together with the native Cachehare and Hoppeschort.]

Tredgold seems to have been conferred on some medieval stoic, for we find also Spurnegold. Without pinning our faith to any particular anecdote, we need have no hesitation in accepting Turnbull as a sobriquet conferred for some feat of strength and daring on a stalwart Borderer. We find the corresponding Tornebeuf in Old French, and Turnbuck also occurs. Trumbull and Trumble are variants due to metathesis followed by assimilation (Chapter III), while Tremble is a very degenerate form. In Knatchbull we have the obsolete verb knatch, which in Mid. English meant to strike on the head, fell. Crawcour is Fr. Crèvecoeur, breakheart, which has also become a local name in France. With Shacklock, shake-lock, and Sherlock, Shurlock, shear-lock, we may compare Robin Hood's comrade Scathelock, though the precise interpretation of all three names is difficult. Rackstraw, rake-straw, corresponds to Fr. Grattepaille. Golightly means much the same as Lightfoot (Chapter XIII), nor need we hesitate to regard the John Gotobed who lived in Cambridgeshire in 1273 as a notorious sluggard compared with whom his neighbour Serl Gotokirke was a shining example. [Footnote: The name is still found in the same county. Undergraduates contemporary with the author occasionally slaked their thirst at a riverside inn kept by Bathsheba Gotobed.]

Telfer is Fr. Taillefer, the iron cleaver, and Henry II.'s yacht captain was Alan Trenchemer, the sea cleaver. He had a contemporary named Ventados, wind abaft.

Slocomb has assumed a local aspect, but may very well correspond to Fr. Tardif or Ger. Mühsam, applied to some Weary Willie of the Middle Ages. Doubtfire is a misspelling of Dout-fire, from the dialect dout, to extinguish (do out), formed like don and doff. Fullalove, which does not belong to the same formation, is also found as Plein d'amour—

and corresponds to Ger. Liebevoll. Waddilove actually occurs in the Hundred Rolls as Wade-in-love, presumably a nickname conferred on some medieval Don Juan.

MISCELLANEOUS

There is one curious little group of nicknames which seem to correspond to such Latin names as Piso, from pisum, a pea, and Cicero, from cicer—

Such are Barleycorn and Peppercorn, the former found in French as Graindorge. The rather romantic names Avenel and Peverel seem to be of similar formation, from Lat. avena, oats, and piper, pepper. In fact Peverel is found in Domesday as Piperellus, and Pepperell still exists. With these may be mentioned Carbonel, corresponding to the French surname Charbonneau, a little coal.

CHAPTER XXII ADJECTIVAL NICKNAMES

ARCHAIC MEANINGS

To interpret an adjectival nickname we must go to its meaning in Chaucer and his contemporaries. Silly, Seeley, Seely

still means innocent when we speak of the "silly sheep," and happy in the phrase "silly Suffolk." It is cognate with Ger. selig, blessed, often used in speaking of the dead. We have compounds in Sillilant, simple child (Chapter X), and Selibarn. Seely was also used for Cecil or Cecilia. Sadd was once sedate and steadfast

and as late as 1660 we find a book in defence of Charles I. described as—

Stout, valiant, now used euphemistically for fat, is cognate with Ger. stolz, proud, and possibly with Lat. stultus, foolish. The three ideas are not incompatible, for fools are notoriously proud of their folly and are said to be less subject to fear than the angels. Sturdy, Sturdee, once meant rebellious, pig-headed—

Cotgrave offers a much wider choice for the French original—

Sly and its variant Sleigh have degenerated in the same way as crafty and cunning, both of which once meant skilled. Chaucer calls the wings of Daedalus "his playes slye," i.e. his ingenious contrivances. Quick meant alert, lively, as in "the quick and the dead." Slight, cognate with Ger. schlecht, bad, once meant plain or simple.

Many adjectives which are quite obsolete in literary English survive as surnames. Mid. Eng. Lyle has been supplanted by its derivative Little, the opposite pair surviving as Mutch and Mickle. The poor parson did not fail—

We have for Lyte also the imitative Light; cf. Lightwood. With Little may be mentioned Murch, an obsolete word for dwarf—

Lenain is a fairly common name in France. Snell, swift or valiant, had become a personal name in Anglo-Saxon, but we find le snel in the Middle Ages. Freake, Frick, also meant valiant or warrior—

but the Promptorium Parvulorum makes it equivalent to Craske (Chapter XXII)—

It is cognate with Ger. frech, which now means impudent. Nott has already been mentioned (Chapter II). Of the Yeoman we are told—

Stark, cognate with starch, now usually means stiff, rather than strong—

DISGUISED SPELLINGS

But Stark is also for an earlier Sterk (cf. Clark and Clerk), which represents Mid. Eng. stirk, a heifer. In the cow with the crumpled horn we have a derivative of Mid. Eng. crum, crooked, whence the names Crum and Crump. Ludwig's German Dict. (1715) explains krumm as "crump, crooked, wry." The name Crook generally has the same meaning, the Ger. Krummbein corresponding to our Cruikshank or Crookshanks. It is possible that Glegg and Gleig are Mid. Eng. gleg, skilful, of Scand. origin.

There are some adjectival surnames which are not immediately recognizable. Bolt, when not local (Chapter XIII) is for bold, Leaf is imitative for lief, i.e. dear. Dear itself is of course hopelessly mixed up with Deer... The timorous-looking Fear is Fr. le fier, the proud or fierce. Skey is an old form of shy; Bligh is for Blyth; Hendy and Henty are related to handy, and had in Mid. English the sense of helpful, courteous—

For Savage we find also the archaic spelling Salvage (Lat. silvaticus). Curtis is Norman Fr. curteis (courtois). The adjective garish, now only poetical, but once commonly applied to gaudiness in dress, has given Gerrish. Quaint, which has so many meanings intermediate between its etymological sense of known or familiar (Lat. cognitus) and its present sense of unusual or unfamiliar, survives as Quint. But Coy is usually local, from Quy (Cambridgeshire).

Orpwood is a corruption of Mid. Eng. orped, bold, warlike. Craske is an East Anglian word for fat, and Crouse is used in the north for sprightly, confident. To these we may add Ketch, Kedge, Gedge, from an East Anglian adjective meaning lively—

and Spragg, etymologically akin to Spry. Bragg was once used for bold or brave, without any uncomplimentary suggestion. The New English Dictionary quotes (c. 1310) from a lyric poem—

Crease is a West-country word for squeamish, but the East Anglian name Creasey, Cressy, is usually for the local Kersey (Suffolk). The only solution of Pratt is that it is Anglo-Sax. praett, cunning, adopted early as a personal name, while Storr, of Scandinavian origin, means big, strong. It is cognate with Steer, a bull. Devey and Dombey seem to be diminutive forms of deaf and dumb, still used in dialect in reference to persons thus afflicted. We find in French and German surnames corresponding to these very natural nicknames. Cf. Crombie from Crum (Chapter XXII).

FRENCH ADJECTIVES

A large proportion of our adjectival nicknames are of French origin. Le bel appears not only as Bell but also, through Picard, as Beal. Other examples are Boon, Bone, Bunn (bon), Grant (grand), Bass (bas) and its derivative Bassett, Dasent (décent), Follett and Folliott, dim. of fol (fou), mad, which also appears in the compound Foljambe, Fulljames.

Mordaunt means biting. Power is generally Anglo-Fr. le poure (le pauvre) and Grace is for le gras, the fat. Jolige represents the Old French form of joli—