The immortal Bowdler is usually said to take his name from the art of puddling, or buddling, iron ore. But, as this process is comparatively modern, it is more likely that the name comes from the same verb in its older meaning of making impervious to water by means of clay. Monier and Minter are both connected with coining, the former through French and the latter from Anglo-Saxon, both going back to Lat. moneta, [Footnote: On the curiously accidental history of this word see the Romance of Words, ch. x.] mint. Conner, i.e. coiner, is now generally swallowed up by the Irish Connor.

Leadbitter is for Leadbeater. The name Hamper is a contraction of hanapier, a maker of hanaps, i.e. goblets. Fr. hanap is from Old High Ger. hnapf (Napf), and shows the inability of French to pronounce initial hn- without inserting a vowel: cf. harangue from Old High Ger. hring. There is also a Mid. Eng. nap, cup, representing the cognate Anglo-Sax. hnaep, so that the name Napper may sometimes be a doublet of Hamper, though it is more probably for Napier (Chapter I) or Knapper (Chapter XII). The common noun hamper is from hanapier in a sense something like plate-basket. With metal-workers we may also put Furber or Frobisher, i.e. furbisher, of armour, etc. Poyser, from poise, scales, is official. Two occupative names of Celtic origin are Gow, a smith, as in The Fair Maid of Perth, and Caird, a tinker—

A few more names, which fall into no particular category, may conclude the chapter. Hillyer or Hellier is an old name for a Thacker, or thatcher, of which we have the Dutch form in Dekker. It comes from Mid. Eng. helen, to cover up. In Hillard, Hillyard we sometimes have the same name (cf. the vulgar scholard), but these are more often local (Chapter XIII). Hellier also meant tiler, for the famous Wat is described as tiler, tegheler, and hellier.

An Ashburner prepared wood-ash for the Bloomer (Chapter XV), and perhaps also for the Glaisher, or glass-maker, and Asher is best explained in the same way, for we do not, I think, add -er to tree-names. Apparent exceptions can be easily accounted for, e.g. Elmer is Anglo-Sax. AElfmaer, and Beecher is Anglo-Fr. bechur, digger (Fr. bêche, spade). Neither Pitman nor Collier had their modern meaning of coal-miner. Pitman is local, of the same class as Bridgeman, Pullman, etc., and Collier meant a charcoal-burner, as in the famous ballad of Rauf Colyear. Not much coal was dug in the Middle Ages. Even in 1610 Camden speaks with disapproval, in his Britannia, of the inhabitants of Sherwood Forest who, with plenty of wood around them, persist in digging up "stinking pit-cole."

Croker is for Crocker, a maker of crocks or pitchers. The Miller's guests only retired to bed—

The spelling has affected the pronunciation, as in Sloper and Smoker (Chapter III). Tinker is sometimes found as the frequentative Tinkler, a name traditionally due to his approach being heralded by the clatter of metal utensils—

The maker of saddle-trees was called Fewster, from Old Fr. fust (fût), Lat. fustis. This has sometimes given Foster, but the latter is more often for Forster, i.e. Forester—

The saddler himself was often called by his French name sellier, whence Sella', but both this and Sellars are also local, at the cellars (Chapter III). Pargeter means dauber, plasterer, from Old Fr. parjeter, to throw over. A Straker made the strakes, or tires, of wheels. A Stanger made stangs, i.e. poles, shafts, etc.

The fine arts are represented by Limmer, for limner, a painter, an aphetic form of illumines, and Tickner is perhaps from Dutch tekener, draughtsman, cognate with Eng, token, while the art of self-defence has given us the name Scrimgeoure, with a number of corruptions, including the local-looking Skrimshire. It is related to scrimmage and skirmish, and ultimately to Ger. schirmen, to fence, lit. to protect. The name was applied to a professional swordplayer—

SURNOMINAL SNOBBISHNESS

A particularly idiotic form of snobbishness has sometimes led people to advance strange theories as to the origin of their names. Thus Turner has been explained as from la tour noire. Dr. Brewer, in his Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, [Footnote: Thirteenth edition, revised and corrected.] apparently desirous of dissociating himself from malt liquor, observes that—

There is of course no reason why such a list should not be indefinitely extended, but the above excerpt is probably quite long enough to make the reader feel dizzy. The fact is that there is no getting away from a surname of this class, and the bearer must try to look on the brighter side of the tragedy. Brewer is occasionally an accommodated form of the French name Bruyère or Labruyère, but is usually derived from an occupation which is the high-road to the House of Lords. The ancestor of any modern Barber may, like Salvation Yeo's father, have "exercised the mystery of a barber-surgeon," which is getting near the learned professions. A Pottinger (Chapter XV) looked after the soups, Fr. potage, but the name also represents Pothecary (apothecary), which had in early Scottish the aphetic forms Poticar, potigar—

CHAPTER XIX HODGE AND HIS FRIENDS

General terms for what we now usually call a farmer are preserved in the surnames Bond (Chapter XV), whence the compound Husband, used both for the goodman of the house and in the modern sense, and Tillman. The labouring man was Day, from the same root as Ger. Dienen, to serve. It persists in "dairy" and perhaps in the puzzling name Doubleday (? doing two men's work). A similar meaning is contained in the names Swain, Hind, for earlier Hine (Chapter III), Tasker, Mann. But a Wager was a mercenary soldier. The mower has given us the names Mather (cf. aftermath), and Mawer, while Fenner is sometimes for Old Fr. feneur, haymaker (Lat. foenum, hay). For mower we also find the latinized messor, whence Messer. Whether the Ridler and the Sivier made, or used, riddles and sieves can hardly be decided. [Footnote: Riddle is the usual word for sieve in the Midlands. Hence the phrase "riddled with holes, or wounds."]

With the Wenman, who drove the wain, we may mention the Leader or Loader. The verbs "lead" and "load" are etymologically the same, and in the Midlands people talk of "leading," i.e. carting, coal. But these names could also come from residence near an artificial watercourse (Chapter XIII). Beecher has already been explained, and Shoveler is formed in the same way from dialect showl, a shovel—

To the variants of the Miller (Chapter XXIII) may be added Mulliner, from Old French. Tedder means a man who teds, i.e. spreads, hay, the origin of the word being Scandinavian

But the greater number of surnames drawn from rural occupations are connected with the care of animals. We find names of this class in three forms, exemplified by Coltman, Goater, Shepherd, and it seems likely that the endings -er and -erd have sometimes been interchanged, e.g. that Goater may stand for goat-herd, Calver for calf-herd, and Nutter sometimes for northern nowt-herd, representing the dialect neat-herd. The compounds of herd include Bullard, Calvert, Coltard, Coward, for cow-herd, not of course to be confused with the common noun coward (Fr. couard, a derivative of Lat. cauda, tail), Evart, ewe-herd, but also a Norman spelling of Edward, Geldard, Goddard, sometimes for goat-herd, Hoggart, often confused with the local Hogarth (Chapter XIII), Seward, for sow-herd, or for the historic Siward, Stobart, dialect stob, a bull, Stodart, Mid. Eng. stot, meaning both a bullock and a nag. Chaucer tells us that—

Stoddart is naturally confused with Studdart, stud-herd, stud being cognate with Ger. Stute, mare. We also have Swinnert, and lastly Weatherhead, sometimes a perversion of wether-herd, though usually a nickname, sheep's head. The man in charge of the tups, or rams, was called Tupman or Tupper, the latter standing sometimes for tup-herd, just as we have the imitative Stutter for Stodart or Studdart. We have also Tripper from trip, a dialect word for flock, probably related to troop. Another general term for a herdsman was Looker, whence Luker.

BUMBLEDOM

I have headed this chapter "Hodge and his Friends," but as, a matter of strict truth he had none, except the "poure Persons," the most radiant figure in Chaucer's pageant. But his enemies were innumerable. Béranger's lines impress one less than the uncouth "Song of the Husbandman" (temp. Edward I.), in which we find the woes of poor Hodge incorporated in the persons of the hayward, the bailif, the wodeward, the budel and his cachereles (catchpoles)—

The bailiff has already been mentioned (Chapter IV). The budel, or beadle, has given us several surnames. We have the word in two forms, from Anglo-Sax. bytel, belonging to the verb to bid, whence the names Biddle and Buddle, and from Old Fr. bedel (bedeau), whence Beadle and its variants. The animal is probably extinct under his original name, but modern democracy is doing its best to provide him with an army of successors. The "beadle" group of names has been confused with Bithell, Welsh Ap Ithel.

Names in -ward are rather numerous, and, as they mostly come from the titles of rural officials and are often confused with compounds of -herd, they are all put together here. The simple Ward, cognate with Fr. garde, is one of our commonest surnames. Like its derivative Warden it had a very wide range of meanings. The antiquity of the office of church-warden is shown by the existence of the surname Churchward. Sometimes the surname comes from the abstract or local sense, de la warde. As the suffix -weard occurs very frequently in Anglo-Saxon personal names, it is not always possible to say whether a surname is essentially occupative or not, e.g. whether Durward is rather "door-ward" or for Anglo-Sax. Deorweard. Howard, which is phonetically Old Fr. Huard, is sometimes also for Hayward or Haward (Hereward), or for Hayward. It has no doubt interchanged with the local Howarth, Haworth.

Owing to the loss of w- in the second part of a word (Chapter III), -ward and -herd often fall together, e.g. Millard for Milward, and Woodard found in Mid. English as both wode-ward and wode-hird. Hayward belongs to hay, hedge, enclosure (Chapter XIII), from which we also get Hayman. The same functionary has given the name Haybittle, a compound of beadle. Burward and Burrard may represent the once familiar office of bear-ward; cf. Berman. I had a schoolfellow called Lateward, apparently the man in charge of the lade or leet (Chapter XIII). Medward is for mead-ward.

The name Stewart or Stuart became royal with Walter the Steward of Scotland, who married Marjorie Bruce in 1315. It stands for sty-ward, where sty means pen, not necessarily limited to pigs. Like most official titles, it has had its ups and downs, with the result that its present meaning ranges from a high officer of the crown to the sympathetic concomitant of a rough crossing.

The Reeve, Anglo-Sax. ge-refa, was in Chaucer a kind of land agent, but the name was also applied to local officials, as in port-reeve, shire-reeve. It is the same as Grieve, also originally official, but used in Scotland of a land steward—

This may be one source of the names Graves and Greaves. The name Woodruff, Woodroffe is too common to be referred to the plant woodruff, and the fact that the male and female of a species of sand-piper are called the ruff and reeve suggests that Woodruff may have some relation to wood-reeve. It is at any rate a curious coincidence that the German name for the plant is Waldmeister, wood-master. Another official surname especially connected with country life is Pinder, also found as Pinner, Pender, Penner, Ponder and Poynder, the man in charge of the pound or pinfold; cf. Parker, the custodian of a park, of which the Palliser or Pallister made the palings.

ITINERANT MERCHANTS

The itinerant dealer was usually called by a name suggesting the pack which he carried. Thus Badger, Kidder, Kiddier, Pedder, now pedlar, are from bag, kid, related to kit, and the obsolete ped, basket; cf. Leaper, Chapter XV. The badger, who dealt especially in corn, was unpopular with the rural population, and it is possible that his name was given to the stealthy animal formerly called the bawson (Chapter I.), brock or gray (Chapter XXIII). That Badger is a nickname taken from the animal is chronologically improbable, as the word is first recorded in 1523 (New English Dictionary).

To the above names may be added Cremer, Cramer, a huckster with a stall in the market, but this surname is sometimes of modern introduction, from its German cognate Krämer, now generally used for a grocer. Packman, Pakeman, and Paxman belong more probably to the font-name Pack (Chapter IX), which also appears in Paxon, either Pack's son, or for the local Paxton.

The name Hawker does not belong to this group. Nowadays a hawker is a pedlar, and it has been assumed, without sufficient evidence, that the word is of the same origin as huckster. The Mid. Eng. le haueker or haukere (1273) is quite plainly connected with hawk, and the name may have been applied either to a Falconer, Faulkner, or to a dealer in hawks. As we know that itinerant vendors of hawks travelled from castle to castle, it is quite possible that our modern hawker is an extended use of the same name.

Nor is the name Coster to be referred to costermonger, originally a dealer in costards, i.e. apples. It is sometimes for Mid. Eng. costard (cf. such names as Cherry and Plumb), but may also represent Port. da Costa and Ger. Köster, both of which are found in early lists of Protestant refugees.

Jagger was a north-country name for a man who worked draught-horses for hire. Mr. Hardy's novel Under the Greenwood Tree opens with "the Tranter's party." A carrier is still a "tranter" in Wessex. In Medieval Latin he was called travetarius, a word apparently connected with Lat. transvehere, to transport.

CHAPTER XX OFFICIAL AND DOMESTIC

It is a well-known fact that official nomenclature largely reflects the simple housekeeping of early times, and that many titles, now of great dignity, were originally associated with rather lowly duties. We have seen an example in Stewart. Another is Chamberlain. Hence surnames drawn from this class are susceptible of very varied interpretation. A Chancellor was originally a man in charge of a chancel, or grating, Lat. cancelli. In Mid. English it is usually glossed scriba, while it is now limited to very high judicial or political office. Bailey, as we have seen (Chapter IV), has also a wide range of meanings, the ground idea being that of care-taker. Cotgrave explains Old Fr. mareschal maréchal as—

which gives a considerable choice of origins to any modern Marshall or Maskell.

Another very vague term is sergeant, whence our Sargent. Its oldest meaning is servant, Lat. serviens, servient-. Cotgrave defines sergent as—

Probably catchpole was the commonest meaning—

The administration of justice occupied a horde of officials, from the Justice down to the Catchpole. The official title Judge is rarely found, and this surname is usually from the female name Judge, which, like Jug, was used for Judith, and later for Jane—

The names Judson and Juxon sometimes belong to these. Catchpole has nothing to do with poles or polls. It is a Picard cache-poule (chasse-poule), collector of poultry in default of money. Another name for judge was Dempster, the pronouncer of doom, a title which still exists in the Isle of Man. We also find Deemer—

Mayor is a learned spelling of Mair, Fr. maire, Lat. major, but Major, which looks like its latinized form, is perhaps imitative for the Old French personal name Mauger. Bishop Mauger of Worcester pronounced the interdict in 1208, and the surname still exists.

Gaylor, Galer, is the Norman pronunciation of gaoler

THE HOUSEHOLD

Usher is Fr. huissier, door-keeper, Fr. huis, door, Lat. ostium. I conjecture that Lusher is the French name Lhuissier, and that Lush is local, for Old Fr. le huis; cf. Laporte. Wait, corruptly Weight, now used only of a Christmas minstrel, was once a watchman. It is a dialect form of Old Fr. gaite, cognate with watch. The older sense survives in the expression "to lie in wait." Gate is the same name, when not local (Chapter XIII).

The Todhunter, or fox-hunter (Chapter XXIII), was an official whose duty was to exterminate the animal now so carefully preserved. Warner is often for Warrener. The Grosvenor (gros veneur), great hunter, was a royal servant. Bannerman is found latinized as Penninger (Chapter XV). Herald may be official or from Harold (Chapter VII), the derivation being in any case the same. Toller means a collector of tolls. Cocke Lorelle speaks of these officials as "false Towlers." Connected with administration is the name Mainprice, lit. taken by hand, used both for a surety and a man out on bail—

and Shurety also exists.

The individual bigwig had a very large retinue, the members of which appear to have held very strongly to the theory of one man, one job. The Nurse, or Norris, Fr. nourrice, was apparently debarred from rocking the cradle. This was the duty of the rocker—

from whom Mr. Roker, chief turnkey at the Fleet in Mr. Pickwick's time, may have sprung The Cook was assisted by the Baster and Hasler, or turnspit, the latter from Old Fr. hastille, spit, dim. of Lat. hasta, spear. The Chandler was a servant as well as a manufacturer.

A Trotter and a Massinger, i.e. messenger, were perhaps much the same thing. Wardroper is of course wardrobe keeper, but Chaucer uses wardrope (B. 1762) in the sense which Fr. garde-robe now usually has. The Lavender, Launder or Lander saw to the washing. Napier, from Fr. nappe, cloth, meant the servant who looked after the napery. The martial sound with which this distinguished name strikes a modern ear is due to historical association, assisted, as I have somewhere read, by its riming with rapier! The water-supply was in charge of the Ewer.

The provisioning of the great house was the work of the Lardner, Fr. lard, bacon, the Panter, or Pantler, who was, at least etymologically, responsible for bread, and the Cator (Chapter III) and Spencer (Chapter III), whose names, though of opposite meaning, buyer and spender, come to very much the same thing. Spence is still the north-country word for pantry, and is used by Tennyson in the sense of refectory—

Purser, now used in connection with ships only, was also a medieval form of bursar, and every castle and monastery had its almoner, now Amner. Here also belongs Carver. In Ivey Church (Bucks) is a tablet to Lady Mary Salter with a poetic tribute to her husband—

As the importance of the horse led to the social elevation of the marshal and constable (Chapter IV), so the hengstman, now henchman, became his master's right-hand man. The first element is Anglo-Sax. hengest, stallion, and its most usual surnominal forms are Hensman and Hinxman. Historians now regard Hengist and Horsa, stallion and mare, as nicknames assumed by Jutish braves on the war-path. Sumpter, Old Fr. sommetier, from Somme, burden, was used both of a packhorse and its driver, its interpretation in King Lear being a matter of dispute—

As a surname it probably means the driver, Medieval Lat. sumetarius.

Among those who ministered to the great man's pleasures we must probably reckon Spelman, Speller, Spillman, Spiller, from Mid. Eng. spel, a speech, narrative, but proof of this is lacking

The cognate Spielmann, lit. Player, was used in Medieval German of a wandering minstrel.

The poet is now Rymer or Rimmer, while Trover, Fr. trouvère, a poet, minstrel, lit. finder, has been confused with Trower, for Thrower, a name connected with weaving. Even the jester has come down to us as Patch, a name given regularly to this member of the household in allusion to his motley attire. Shylock applies it, to Launcelot—

But the name has another origin (Chapter IX). Buller and Cocker are names taken from the fine old English sports of bull-baiting and cock-fighting.

Two very humble members of the parasitic class have given the names Bidder and Maunder, both meaning beggar. The first comes from Mid. Eng. bidden, to ask. Piers Plowman speaks of "bidderes and beggers." Maunder is perhaps connected with Old Fr. quemander—

but it may mean a maker of "maunds," i.e. baskets.

A Beadman spent his time in praying for his benefactor. A medieval underling writing to his superior often signs himself "your servant and bedesman."

CHAPTER XXI OF NICKNAMES IN GENERAL

Every family name is etymologically a nickname, i.e. an eke-name, intended to give that auxiliary information which helps in identification. But writers on surnames have generally made a special class of those epithets which were originally conferred on the bearer in connection with some characteristic feature, physical or moral, or some adjunct, often of the most trifling description, with which his personality was associated. Of nicknames, as of other things, it may be said that there is nothing new under the sun. Ovidius Naso might have received his as a schoolboy, and Moss cum nano, whom we find in Suffolk in 1184, lives on as "Nosey Moss" in Whitechapel. Some of our nicknames occur as personal names in Anglo-Saxon times (Chapter VII), but as surnames they are seldom to be traced back to that period, for the simple reason that such names were not hereditary. An Anglo-Saxon might be named Wulf, but his son would bear another name, while our modern Wolfe does not usually go farther back than some Ranulf le wolf of the thirteenth or fourteenth century. This is of course stating the case broadly, because the personal name Wolf also persisted and became in some cases a surname. In this and the following chapters I do not generally attempt to distinguish between such double origins.

Nicknames are formed in very many ways, but the two largest classes are sobriquets taken from the names of animals, e.g. Hogg, or from adjectives, either alone or accompanied by a noun, e.g. Dear, Goodfellow. Each of these classes requires a chapter to itself, while here we may deal with the smaller groups.

Some writers have attempted to explain all apparent nicknames as popular perversions of surnames belonging to the other three classes. As the reader will already have noticed, such perversions are extremely common, but it is a mistake to try to account for obvious nicknames in this way. Any of us who retain a vivid recollection of early days can call to mind nicknames of the most fantastic kind, and in some cases of the most apparently impossible formation, which stuck to their possessors all through school-life. A very simple test for the genuineness of a nickname is a comparison with other languages. Camden says that Drinkwater is a corruption of Derwentwater. The incorrectness of this guess is shown by the existence as surnames of Fr. Boileau, It. Bevilacqua, and Ger. Trinkwasser. It is in fact a perfectly natural nickname for a medieval eccentric, the more normal attitude being represented by Roger Beyvin (boi-vin), who died in London in 1277.

FOREIGN NICKNAMES

Corresponding to our Goodday, we find Ger. Gutentag and Fr. Bonjour. The latter has been explained as from a popular form of George, but the English and German names show that the explanation is. unnecessary. With Dry we may compare Fr. Lesec and Ger. Dürr, with Garlick Ger. Knoblauch (Chapter XV), and with Shakespeare Ger. Schüttespeer. Luck is both for Luke and Luick (Liège, Chapter XI), but Rosa Bonheur and the composer Gluck certify it also as a nickname. Merryweather is like Fr. Bontemps, and Littleboy appears in the Paris Directory as Petitgas, gas being the same as gars, the old nominative (Chapter I) of garçon—

Bardsley explains Twentyman as an imitative corruption of twinter-man, the man in charge of the twinters, two-year-old colts. This may be so, but there is a German confectioner in Hampstead called Zwanziger, and there are Parisians named Vingtain. Lover is confirmed by the French surnames Amant and Lamoureux, and Wellbeloved by Bienaimé. Allways may be the literal equivalent of the French name Partout. On the other hand, the name Praisegod Barebones has been wrongly fixed on an individual whose real name was Barbon or Barborne.

It may seem strange that the nickname, conferred essentially on the individual, and often of a very offensive character, should have persisted and become hereditary. But schoolboys know that, in the case of an unpleasant nickname, the more you try to pull it off, the more it sticks the faster. Malapert and Lehideux are still well represented in the Paris Directory. Many objectionable nicknames have, however, disappeared, or have been so modified as to become inoffensive.

Sometimes such disappearance has resulted from the depreciation in the meaning of a word, e.g. le lewd, the layman, the unlettered, was once as common as its opposite le learned, whence the name Larned. But many uncomplimentary names are no longer objected to because their owners do not know their earlier meanings. A famous hymn-writer of the eighteenth century bore all unconsciously a surname that would almost have made Rabelais blush. Drinkdregs, Drunkard, Sourale, Sparewater, Sweatinbed, etc. have gone, but we still have Lusk—

and many other names which can hardly have gratified their original possessors.

A very interesting group of surnames consists of those which indicate degrees of kinship or have to do with the relations existing between individuals. We find both Master and Mann, united in Masterman, meaning the man in the service of one locally known as the master. With this we may compare Ladyman, Priestman, etc. But Mann is often of local origin, from the Isle of Man. In some cases such names are usually found with the patronymic -s, e.g. Masters, Fellows, while in others this is regularly absent, e.g. Guest, Friend. The latter name is sometimes a corruption of Mid. Eng. fremed, stranger, cognate with Ger. fremd, so that opposite terms, which we find regularly contrasted in Mid. Eng. "frend and fremed," have become absorbed in one surname.

The frequent occurrence of Fellows is due to its being sometimes for the local Fallows. From Mid. Eng. fere, a companion, connected with faren, to travel, we get Littlefair and Playfair. In Wyclif's Bible we read that Jephthah's daughter—

Springett is for springald, and Arlett is Mid. Eng. harlot, fellow, rascal, a word which has changed its gender and meaning—

KINSHIP

In surnames taken from words indicating family relationship we come across some survivals of terms no longer used, or occurring only in rustic dialect. The Mid. Eng. eme, uncle, cognate with Ger. Oheim, has given Eames. In Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde, the heroine addresses Pandarus as "uncle dere" and "uncle mine," but also uses the older word—

and the word is used more than once by Scott—

It is also one of the sources of Empson, which thus corresponds to Cousins or Cozens. In Neame we have a prosthetic n- due to the frequent occurrence of min eme (cf. the Shakespearean nuncle, Lear, i. 4). The names derived from cousin have been reinforced by those from Cuss, i.e. Constant or Constance (Chapter X). Thus Cussens is from the Mid. English dim. Cussin. Anglo-Sax. nefa, whence Mid. Eng. neve, neave, is cognate with, but not derived from, Lat. nepos. [Footnote: In all books on surnames that I have come across this is referred to Old Fr. le neve. There is no such word in old French, which has nom. niés, acc. neveu.]

This is now replaced as a common noun by the French word nephew, but it survives in the surname Neave. It also meant in Mid. English a prodigal or parasite, as did also Lat. nepos—