Names: and Their Meaning

Reference to the above Inns and Taverns peculiar to London compels us almost to say a few words concerning those popular places of outdoor resort of which we have all read and heard so much. Sadler’s Wells marks the position of an ancient holy well whose waters were famous for working extraordinary cures. In the year 1683, after having been stopped up since the Reformation, a Mr. Sadler, while digging for gravel in his garden, discovered this well, and thereafter it bore his name. In order to profit by the re-established fame of this well, Sadler converted his residence into a house of entertainment under the title of “Sadler’s Musick House.” Here were provided tight-rope dancing, conjuring, tumbling, and a variety of other diversions, always accompanied by music. Sixty years later, probably after the death of Mr. Sadler, the property passed into the hands of Mr. Rosoman, who turned it into a theatre, but retained the name of the old proprietor. The present theatre was built by Mrs. Bateman in 1879. Highbury Barn, first a small ale and cake house, and afterwards a place of public entertainment, including a theatre, was so called from its occupying the site of a barn-like structure originally belonging to the ancient Priory of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, and left standing after the incursion of Jack Straw and his rebellious companions [see ante, Jack Straw’s Castle]. Vauxhall Gardens derived their title from the Hall, or Manor-house, of Jane Vaux, which they displaced [see Vauxhall]; Ranelagh Gardens occupied the site of Ranelagh House, the seat of an Irish nobleman of that title; while Cremorne Gardens were named after Thomas Dawson, Lord Cremorne, whose town house and grounds they covered. Whatever may have been the moral character of these places, their removal has had the effect of effacing one phase of Metropolitan amusement entirely; but it has also been instrumental in introducing another—namely, the Music-Halls. The first London music-hall was “The Canterbury,” Westminster Bridge Road, which grew out of The Canterbury Arms, displaying the arms of the city of Canterbury in the year 1848.

SOBRIQUETS AND NICKNAMES

The list of historical personages whose sobriquets and nicknames are even better known than their proper names is very large; we must, therefore, content ourselves with a random selection of the principal.

Commencing with the ladies: Ayesha (born 610, died 677), the second and favourite wife of Mahomet, was called The Mother of Believers because the prophet styled himself “The Father of Believers.” Fair Helen was the wife of Menelaos, King of Sparta, by whose guest, Paris, the Trojan prince, she was carried off. This incident was the immediate cause of the famous siege of Troy which lasted ten years. Fair Rosamond (died 1154) was the mistress of Henry II., who kept her in a secluded bower that could be approached only by a labyrinth or maze in the neighbourhood of the royal palace at Woodstock. One day, however, the queen artfully discovered her way thereto by means of a silken thread attached to the garment of the faithless husband, after which she soon procured the removal of her rival by poison. Joan, the wife of Edward the Black Prince, was styled The Fair Maid of Kent (died 1385) on account of her beauty and being the only daughter of the Earl of Kent. The Holy Maid of Kent was Elizabeth Barton, a religious enthusiast, hanged at Tyburn in 1534. A brave, if not a beautiful, woman of historic renown was the Countess of Dunbar and March, who, in the year 1337, completely defied the attempt of the Earl of Salisbury to capture Dunbar Castle during a siege of nineteen weeks, at the end of which the latter was forced to retire with ignominy. This warlike heroine is generally alluded to under the name of Black Agnes, in consequence of her swarthy complexion. A less fortunate Scottish heroine who fell at the Battle of Ancrum Moor beside her English adversary, General Evers, whom she had killed, was Fair Maiden Lilliard. She was buried on the site of the conflict; and her epitaph, as follows, is known to every man, woman, and child in that part of the country:—

“Fair Maiden Lilliard lies under this stene,Little was her stature, but great was her fame;Upon the English loons she laid many thumps,And when her legs were cutted off, she fought upon her stumps.”

The spot where she fell still bears the name of “Lilliard’s Edge.” Then, of course, we have the celebrated Joan of Arc, The Maid of Orleans (born 1412, burnt at the stake 1431), who placed herself at the head of the attacking party and effected the capture of the city of Orleans from the English. Neither must we omit a passing allusion to Augustine Zaragossa, better known as The Maid of Saragossa, owing to the signal heroism which she displayed during the siege of her native city in 1808-9. The Honourable Elizabeth St. Leger, the niece of Colonel Anthony St. Leger, who founded the Stakes named after him in connection with Doncaster races, is known to posterity as The Lady Freemason, because on one occasion she overheard the proceedings of an assembly of Freemasons, and, being discovered, was, as the only way of meeting an unprecedented difficulty, duly elected a member of the craft and initiated into its peculiar rites and ceremonies. Madame Jenny Lind Goldschmidt (born 1821, died 1887) was styled The Swedish Nightingale on account of her vocal genius and her birth in the city of Stockholm. The now popular society actress, Mrs. Langtry, bears the somewhat punning though highly complimentary sobriquet of The Jersey Lily, because she was born in Jersey and her Christian name is Lillie.

Heraclitus of Ephesus (flourished 500 b.c.) was known as The Weeping Philosopher, because he spent the latter years of his life in grieving over the folly of men; on the other hand, Democritus of Abdera (born 460 b.c., died 357 b.c.) merited the surname of The Laughing Philosopher, because he jeered at the feeble powers of man, whose every act was in the hands of fate. Duns Scotus, the Scottish schoolman (born 1272, died 1308), was styled The Subtle Doctor by reason of his learning; while St. Thomas Aquinas (born 1227, died 1274) was denominated The Angelic Doctor because he belonged to the priesthood. St. Paul of the Cross is the name by which Paul Francis (born 1694, died 1775), founder of the religious Order of the Passionists, is best known.

The famous English outlaw who flourished between the years 1180 and 1247, and whose real name was Robert Fitz-ooth, Earl of Huntingdon, adopted the style of Robin Hood, in deference to the example set by the people of Nottinghamshire, who, while dropping the Fitz, corrupted the Robert into Robin and the ooth into Hood. Little John was properly called John Little, but being a great, stalwart fellow, the outlaw chief took a fancy to invert his name for the sake of the contrast. We can quite understand “the merry men of Sherwood Forest” cultivating an objection to hard-sounding words; therefore it could not have been long before William Scathelocke, another prominent member of Robin Hood’s band, found his name reduced to the more euphonious form of Will Scarlet. Friar Tuck was so called because his habit was tucked in around the waist by a girdle.

Sixteen-string Jack was the name popularly bestowed upon Jack Rann, a notorious highwayman hanged in 1791, owing to the sixteen tags he wore on his breeches, eight at each knee. Another notorious representative of the great family of Jacks, good, bad, and otherwise, was the Marquis of Waterford, commonly known as Spring-heel Jack, from his habit of frightening people by springing upon them out of obscure corners after nightfall during the early part of the present century. Gentleman Jack and Gentleman Smith were the titles respectively borne by John Bannister and William Smith, both actors of the century gone by. The former was noted for his straightforward dealings with his fellow-men in private life, the latter for his gentlemanly deportment on the stage.

Who has not heard of Admirable Crichton? This extraordinary Scottish prodigy, James Crichton (born 1560, died 1583), is said to have given such early proofs of his learning that the degree of Master of Arts was conferred upon him at the age of fourteen. In addition to his classical knowledge, he was a poet, a musician, a sculptor, an artist, an actor, a brilliant conversationalist, a good horseman, and an excellent fencer. Surely the possessor of such varied accomplishments deserved a better fate than that which befell him in the very prime of his life! He was stabbed by a band of masked desperadoes led by his own pupil, Vincenzo Gonzaga, the son of the Duke of Mantua. A genius of a totally different stamp was George Robert Fitzgerald, better known, owing to his duelling proclivities, as Fighting Fitzgerald. This individual was one of the most infamous characters of the last century. No enemy ever escaped him with life; being a sure shot and an expert swordsman, his intense love of gambling and duelling, united to a haughty and overbearing disposition, habitually prompted him to shed the blood of his fellow-men without the least compunction.

A celebrated leader of fashion during the early part of this century was Robert Coates, popularly styled Romeo Coates in consequence of his fondness for playing the part of Romeo at amateur theatricals. Among other past notabilities of fashion we may mention Beau Fielding, Beau Brummell, and Beau Nash, severally so styled from the foppishness of their attire. The last-named (born 1674, died 1761) was a notorious diner-out, and for some time Master of the Ceremonies at the fashionable Assembly Rooms at Bath, where he provided a series of entertainments the like of which had never been known. On this account he was surnamed King of Bath. Alas! though literally the “monarch of all he surveyed” during the brief period of his popularity, when at length Death claimed him for his own he was as poor as the meanest of King George’s subjects.

But Richard “Beau” Nash was not the only British subject who has rejoiced in the erstwhile title of King. As examples: Richard Oastler, of Bradford (born 1789, died 1861), merited the style of The Factory King, in recognition of his success in promoting the “Ten Hours’ Bill”; George Hudson, of Yorkshire (born 1800, died 1871), chairman of the Midland Railway Company, was denominated The Railway King, because in one day he cleared the large sum of £100,000 by fortunate railway speculations; John Law, the projector of the Mississippi Scheme (born 1671, died 1729), bore the name of The Paper King, than which, by the way, nothing could have been more appropriate. The huge fortunes anticipated by the subscribers to this wholesale fraud appeared promising enough upon paper, or, to put it more precisely, in the prospectus; but hard cash there was none, saving such as passed into the pockets of the wily promoter. In our own decade we have The Nitrate King, the sobriquet of Colonel J. T. North, of Eltham, consequent upon his successful speculations in the commodity with which his name has become associated.

John Kyrle, of Ross, Herefordshire (born 1637, died 1754), well known for his artistic tastes and acts of benevolence, was styled by Pope The Man of Ross, because he was constantly effecting improvements for the public good in the neighbourhood of his estate. Another local philanthropist was Dr. William Gordon, of Hull (born 1801, died 1849), whose surname, The People’s Friend, so well merited during life, literally followed him to the grave, where it appears chiselled on his tombstone. Perhaps the greatest benefactor of the human race with whom we have become practically acquainted in modern times, was Father Mathew (born 1790, died 1856), universally styled The Apostle of Temperance, beside whom, judging from results, all our latter-day temperance advocates sink into insignificance. He was also made the recipient of the sobriquet The Sinner’s Friend, on account of the special interest he took in the fallen and the outcast; even the most degraded always met with a welcome at his hands.

The Musical Small-coal Man was the popular designation of Thomas Britton (born 1650, died 1714), a vendor of small coals, which he carried in a sack over his shoulder and cried in the streets, who on Thursday evenings gave a series of high-class instrumental concerts in the room over his shed in Clerkenwell, assisted by the best talent he could procure, that attracted all fashionable London. This gifted person was actually frightened to death by the freak of a ventriloquist. Thomas Rawlinson, the bibliopolist (born 1681, died 1725), was appropriately enough styled Tom Folio. The Infant Roscius (born 1791, died 1874) was William Henry Betty, a histrionic prodigy named after the greatest actor of antiquity. His début took place at Belfast, August 19, 1803; and three months later he appeared at Covent Garden (then under the management of the elder Macready) for twelve nights at a salary of fifty guineas a night and a clear benefit. During this brief season the public excitement was so great that the military had to be called out every night to preserve order. His last appearance as a boy-actor occurred at Bath in the year 1808.

William Gerard Hamilton, the Irish Chancellor of the Exchequer (born 1729, died 1756), has been handed down to posterity under the name of Single-speech Hamilton, because he delivered but one speech in the House, and that was such a marvellous outburst of rhetoric that it electrified all who heard it. This memorable incident took place November 13, 1755. Henry Dundas, afterwards Lord Melville (born 1740, died 1811), merited the sobriquet of Starvation Dundas in consequence of his repeated use of the word “starvation” in the course of a debate on American affairs in the year 1775. Sir Robert Peel (born 1750, died 1830), during the time he was Chief Secretary for Ireland (1812 to 1816), was popularly denominated Orange Peel, on account of his strong anti-Catholic spirit [see Orangemen]. William Pitt, Earl of Chatham (born 1708, died 1778), was styled The Heaven-sent Minister because the most splendid triumphs of British arms were achieved during his administration. John Russell, afterwards created Earl Russell (born 1792, died 1878), received the nickname of Finality John from the fact of his maintaining that the Reform Bill of 1832 was a finality. The late Earl of Beaconsfield (born 1804, died 1881) owed his popular name of Dizzy to his own habit of setting forth his early novels during the lifetime of his father under the authorship of “D’Israeli the Younger.” In course of time this became shortened into “Dizzy,” and it clung to him ever afterwards.

Mr. W. E. Gladstone (born 1809) first received the nickname of The Grand Old Man on the occasion of the unseating in the House of Commons of Mr. Charles Bradlaugh (June 1880), through his refusal to take the oath after his election as member for Northampton. At this time Mr. Bradlaugh found a strong champion in Mr. Labouchere; and the nickname arose out of the latter’s conversation in the tea-room of the House “I told some friends,” said Mr. Labouchere, referring to the incident of Mr. Bradlaugh’s expulsion, “that before I left Mr. Gladstone came to me, and that grand old man, with tears in his eyes, took me by the hands and said, ‘Mr. Labouchere, bring me Mr. Bradlaugh back again.’”

Mr. William Henry Smith, M.P., the present First Lord of the Treasury (born 1825), is popularly known by the name of Bookstall Smith because he originated the idea of railway bookstalls, and founded the now widely-popular firm of “W. H. Smith and Sons.”

Sir Christopher Hatton (born 1540, died 1591) was styled The Dancing Chancellor because he first attracted the notice of Queen Elizabeth by his graceful dancing at one of the Court masques. In recognition of this accomplishment he was created a Knight of the Garter and subsequently made Chancellor of England. Praise-God Barebones, or, rather, Barebon, who died in 1680, was a leather-seller and the leader of the celebrated “Barebones Parliament.” It was a common custom among the Puritans to nickname people in accordance with their habits and peculiarities; consequently this individual must have been addicted to praising God in the hearing of his neighbours. William Huntingdon, the preacher and theologian (born 1744, died 1813), called himself Sinner-saved Huntingdon for reasons doubtless best known to himself. Orator Henley, otherwise John Henley (born 1692, died 1756), was an English divine who in 1726 delivered a course of lectures on theological subjects on Sundays, and on secular subjects on Wednesdays, in a kind of “oratory” or chapel in Newport Market, which attracted large congregations.

Memory Woodfall was the sobriquet of William Woodfall (born 1745, died 1803), brother to the reputed author of the famous “Letters of Junius.” This person’s memory was so perfect that he was able, after listening to a Parliamentary debate, to report it the next morning word for word without the assistance of any notes whatever. Of another kind was the memory possessed by John Thompson, the son of a greengrocer in the parish of St. Giles, popularly known as Memory-corner Thompson (born 1757, died 1843) on account of his astounding local knowledge. Within twenty-four hours, and at two sittings, he drew entirely from memory a correct plan of the parish of St. James’s. This plan contained all the squares, streets, lanes, courts, passages, markets, churches, chapels, houses, stables, and angles of houses, in addition to a number of minor objects, such as walls, trees, &c., and including an exact plan of Carlton House and St. James’s Palace. He also, on another occasion, made a correct plan of St. Andrew’s parish, and offered to do the same with the parishes of St. Giles, St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, and St. Clement-Danes. If a particular house in any given street were named, he would tell at once what trade was carried on in it, the appearance and position of the shop, and its contents. In going through a large hotel completely furnished, he was able to retain a recollection of everything he saw, and afterwards make an inventory of the whole. But, perhaps more wonderful than all, he could, after having read a newspaper overnight, repeat any desired portion of its contents verbatim the next morning. Nowadays such a one would be exhibited at the Royal Aquarium as a natural curiosity.

Another well-known London character was Dirty Dick, otherwise Nathaniel Bentley, the miser, who never washed himself. This extraordinary individual died in the odour of dirt in the year 1809, leaving an ample fortune to console his heirs for his loss (?). The house which he inhabited in Bishopsgate Street Without has now been converted into a modern wine and spirit establishment, under the style of The D.D. Cellars. Laurence Brown, the English landscape gardener (born 1715, died 1783) was nicknamed Capability Brown owing to his habitual use of the word capability. At the present day the Duke of Cambridge (born 1819) is usually denominated George Ranger in allusion to his appointment as Ranger of the Royal Parks. Ernest Benzon, author of “How I Lost £250,000 in Two Years,” rejoiced in the title of The Jubilee Plunger because he entered upon his gambling career in 1887, the Jubilee year of Queen Victoria [see Plunger].

A few of the more celebrated painters may now detain us. Peter Aartsen, the Flemish painter (born 1507, died 1573), bore the name of Long Peter on account of his extraordinary height; while Gaspar Smitz, the Dutch portrait painter (died 1689), was styled Magdalen Smith because his pictures comprised mostly “Magdalens.” The real name of the French landscape painter, Claude Lorraine (born 1600, died 1682), was Claude Gelée of Lorraine; that of Paolo Veronese, or Paul Veronese (born 1528, died 1588), was Paolo Cagliari, his birth having taken place in Verona; and that of Jacopa da Bassano, called Il Bassano (born 1510, died 1592), was Jacopa da Ponte, whose native place was Bassano, in the Venetian State. Pietro Vanucci (born 1446, died 1524), though recognizing Città della Pieve as his birthplace, was all his life established in the neighbouring city of Perugia, where he claimed the right of citizenship; hence the origin of his more common name Il Perugino. Francesco Rossi (born 1510, died 1563), adopted the name of Del Salviati, in honour of his patron, Cardinal Salviati, who was his own age exactly, and, strangely enough, died in the same year as himself. Giuseppe Ribera (born 1588, died 1656), was popularly surnamed Lo Spagnoletto (“the Little Spaniard”), from the shortness of his stature and his birth at Xativa, in Spain; while Tommaso Guidi (born 1402, died 1428), merited his better-known name of Masaccio, owing to the slovenliness of his habits, the direct consequence of an all-absorbing attention to his studies. Jacopo Robusti (born 1512, died 1594) received his now far more popular name of Tintoretto because his father followed the occupation of a tintore, or dyer. During his lifetime, this celebrated Italian painter merited the additional sobriquet of Il Furioso owing to the rapidity with which he produced his work. Quintin Matsys (born 1466, died 1530), whose masterpiece, “The Taking Down from the Cross,” has achieved a world-wide reputation, is equally known to fame by the name of The Smith of Antwerp, owing to the circumstance of having followed for a time, and with great distinction, his father’s occupation of a blacksmith. His attachment to the pretty daughter of a painter, however, caused him eventually to forsake the anvil for the palette. Nearer home the historical portrait painter, David Allan (born 1744, died 1796) was surnamed The Scottish Hogarth in compliment to his excellence; and William Huggins (born 1821, died 1884), The Liverpool Landseer, in favourable comparison with the celebrated English animal painter of that name.

Simon Bolivar, the South American hero (born 1783, died 1830), justly merited the dignified title of The Liberator; while General John Charles Fremont (born 1813, died 1890) won the surname of The Pathfinder after his fourth successful exploring expedition across the Rocky Mountains in 1842. Lastly, Jonathan Hastings, a farmer of Cambridge, Massachusetts, U.S., was styled Yankee Jonathan in consequence of his addiction to the word Yankee in the place of “excellent.” Thus he would say, “A Yankee good horse,” “A Yankee good cider,” &c. This individual, however, must not be confounded with “Brother Jonathan,” the nickname of the typical American, to which reference is made in another portion of this work.

THE INNS OF COURT

As by reference to our article on Tavern Signs it will be seen how the word Inn originally denoted a private mansion, it will suffice to state here that the various colleges of the law students in London are styled Inns because the chief of them were at one time the residences of the nobility whose family names they still bear. Thus, Lincoln’s Inn was the town mansion of the Earls of Lincoln, Gray’s Inn, of the Earls Gray, Furnival’s Inn, of the Lords Furnival, and Clifford’s Inn, of the Lords Clifford. The two first-named, together with the Inner and Middle Temple, are the principal Inns of Court, so called because the earliest seminaries for the study of the law were established in one of the courts of the King’s palace. The Inns of lesser import are:—Serjeants’ Inn, originally the establishment of the “Frères Serjens,” or Serving Brothers to the Knights Templars who occupied The Temple close by; Barnard’s Inn—sold and abolished in 1881—named after its ancient owner; Staple Inn, formerly the Hall of the Merchants of the Staple, i.e., wool; Clement’s Inn and Dane’s Inn, so designated from their proximity to the Church of St. Clement-Danes; and New Inn, the latest of all the Inns erected in the early part of the last century. Thavie’s Inn no longer exists, but the title still adheres to a range of modern buildings erected upon its site. No person of the name of Thavie ever owned or occupied the original premises; nevertheless, when the Inn was established as an appendage to Lincoln’s Inn, about the middle of the fourteenth century, the Benchers unanimously agreed to perpetuate the memory of one John Thavie, an armourer who, dying in the year 1348, bequeathed a number of houses in Holborn, representing considerable rentals, to the neighbouring church of St. Andrew, and named it “Thavie’s Inn” accordingly.