Curiosities of Puritan Nomenclature

Looking from now back to then, we see this the more clearly. We turn to the “Calendar of State Papers,” and we find a grant, dated November 5, 1607, to Fulk Reade to travel four years. Shortly afterwards (July 15, 1609), we come across a warrant to John Carse, of the benefit of the recusancy of Drew Lovett, of the county of Middlesex. Casting our eye backwards we speedily reach a grant or warrant in 1603, wherein Gavin26 Harvey is mentioned. In 1604 comes Ingram Fyser. One after another these names occur within the space of five years – names then, although it was well in James’s reign, known of all men, and borne reputably by many. But who will say that Drew, or Fulk, or Gavin, or Ingram are alive now? How they were to be elbowed out of existence these very same records tell us; for within the same half-decade we may see warrants or grants relating to Matathias Mason (April 7, 1610) or Gersome Holmes (January 23, 1608). Jethro Forstall obtains licence, November 12, 1604, to dwell in one of the alms-rooms of Canterbury Cathedral; while Melchizedec Bradwood receives sole privilege, February 18, 1608, of printing Jewel’s “Defence of the Apology of the English Church.” The enemy was already within the bastion, and the call for surrender was about to be made.

Take another specimen a few years earlier. In the Chancery suits at the close of Elizabeth’s reign, we find a plaintiff named Goddard Freeman, another styled Anketill Brasbridge, a defendant bearing the good old title of Frideswide Heysham, while a fourth endeavours to secure his title to some property under the signature of Avery Howlatt. Hamlett Holcrofte and Hammett Hyde are to be met with (but we have spoken of them), and such other personages as Ellice Heye, Morrice Cowles, and Gervase Hatfield. Within a few pages’ limit we come across Dogory Garry, Digory Greenfield, Digory Harrit, and Degory Hollman. These names of Goddard, Anketill, Frideswide, Avery, Hamlet, Ellice, Morrice, Gervase, and Digory were on everybody’s lips when Henry VIII. was king. Who can say that they exist now? Only Maurice and Gervase enjoy a precarious existence. A breath of popular disregard would blow them out. Avery held out, but in vain:

“Avery Terrill, cooke at ye Falcon, Lothbury, 1650.” – “Tokens of Seventeenth Century.”

But what else do we see in these same registers? We are confronted with pages bearing such names as Esaye Freeman (Isaiah), or Elizar Audly (Eliezer), or Seth Awcocke, or Urias Babington, or Ezekias Brent, – and this not forty years after the Reformation. These men must have been baptized in the very throes of the great contest.

Another “Calendar of State Papers,” bearing dates between 1590 and 1605, contains the names of Colet Carey (1580) and Amice Carteret (1599), alongside of whom stands Aquila Wyke (1603). Here once more we are reminded of two pretty baptismal names that have gone the way of the others. It makes one quite sad to think of these national losses. Amice, previous to the Reformation, was a household favourite, and Colet a perfect pet. Won’t somebody come to the rescue? Why on earth should the fact that the Bible has been translated out of Latin into English strip us of these treasures?

Turn once more to our church registers. Few will recognize Thurstan as a baptismal name:

“1544, May 11. Married Thryston Hogkyn and Letyce Knight.” – St. Dionis Backchurch.

“1573, Nov. 15. Wedding of Thrustone Bufford and Annes Agnes Dyckson.” – St. Peter, Cornhill.

Drew and Fulk are again found:

“1583, April 16. Buried Drew Hewat, sonne of Nicholas Hewat.

“1583, March 8. Buried Foulke Phillip, sonne of Thomas Phillip, grocer.” – St. Peter, Cornhill.

Take the following, dropped upon hap-hazard as I turn the pages of St. Dionis Backchurch:

“1540, Oct. 25. Buried Jacomyn Swallowe.

“1543, Aug. 3. Buried Awdrye Hykman.

“1543, June 12. Married Bonyface Meorys and Jackamyn Kelderly.

“1546, Nov. 23. Christened Grizill, daughter of – Deyne.

“1557, Nov. 8. Buried Austin Clarke.

“1567, April 22. Married Richard Staper and Dennis Hewyt.

“1573, Sep. 25. Married John Carrington and Gyllian Lovelake.

“1574, Oct. 23. Buried Joyce, d. of John Bray.

“1594, Nov. 1. Married Gawyn Browne and Sibbell Halfhed.”

So they run. How quaint and pretty they sound to modern ears! Amongst the above I have mentioned some girl-names. The change is strongly marked here. It was Elizabeth’s reign saw the end of Joan. Jane Grey set the fashionable Jane going; Joan was relegated to the milkmaid, and very soon even the kitchen wench would none of it. Joan is obsolete; Jane is showing signs of dissolution.27

It was Elizabeth’s reign saw the end of Jill, or Gill, which had been the pet name of Juliana for three centuries:

“1586, Feb. 5. Christening of Gillian Jones, daughter of Thomas Jones, grocer.” – St. Peter, Cornhill.

“1573, Sep. 25. Married John Carrington, Cheape, and Gillian Lovelake.” – St. Dionis Backchurch.

In one of our earlier mysteries Noah’s wife had refused to enter the ark. To Noah she had said —

“Sir, for Jak nor for GilleWille I turne my face,Tille I have on this hilleSpun a space.”

It lingered on till the close of James’s reign. In 1619 we find in “Satyricall Epigrams” —

“Wille 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 proverb is, each Jacke shall have his Gill.’”

But Jill had become a term for a common street jade, like Parnel and Nan. All these disappeared at this period, and must have sunk into disuse, Bible or no Bible. A nanny-house, or simple “nanny,” was well known to the loose and dissolute of either sex at the close of the sixteenth century. Hence, in the ballad “The Two Angrie Women of Abington,” Nan Lawson is a wanton; while, in “Slippery Will,” the hero’s inclination for Nan is anything but complimentary:

“Long have I lived a bachelor’s life,And had no mind to marry;But now I faine would have a wife,Either Doll, Kate, Sis, or Mary.These four did love me very well,I had my choice of Mary;But one did all the rest excell,And that was pretty Nanny.“Sweet Nan did love me deare indeed,” etc.

Respectable people, still liking the name, changed it to Nancy, and in that form it still lives.

Parnel, the once favourite Petronilla, fell under the same blight as Peter, and shared his fate; but her character also ruined her. In the registers of St. Peter, Cornhill, we find the following entries: —

“1539, May 20. Christened Petronilla, ignoti cognominis.”

“1594, Sep. 15. Christening of Parnell Griphin, d. of John Griphin, felt-maker.”

“1586, April 17. Christening of Parnell Averell, d. of William Averell, merchant tailor.”

Two other examples may be furnished: —

“1553, Nov. 15. Peternoll, daughter of William Agar, baptized.” – St. Columb Major.

“1590, April. Pernell, d. of Antony Barton, of Poplar.” – Stepney, London.

The Restoration did not restore Parnel, and the name is gone.

Sibyl had a tremendous run in her day, and narrowly escaped a second epoch of favour in the second Charles’s reign. Tib and Sib were always placed side by side. Burton, speaking of “love melancholy,” says —

“One grows too fat, another too lean: modest Matilda, pretty pleasing Peg, sweet singing Susan, mincing merry Moll, dainty dancing Doll, neat Nancy, jolly Joan, nimble Nell, kissing Kate, bouncing Bess with black eyes, fair Phillis with fine white hands, fiddling Frank, tall Tib, slender Sib, will quickly lose their grace, grow fulsome, stale, sad, heavy, dull, sour, and all at last out of fashion.”

The “Psalm of Mercie,” too, has it:

“‘So, so,’ quoth my sister Bab,And ‘Kill ’um,’ quoth Margerie;‘Spare none,’ cry’s old Tib; ‘No quarter,’ says Sib,‘And, hey, for our monachie.’”

In “Cocke Lorelle’s Bote,” one of the personages introduced is —

“Sibby Sole, mylke wyfe of Islynton.”

“Sibb Smith, near Westgate, Canterbury, 1650.” – “Half-penny Tokens of Seventeenth Century.”

“1590, Aug. 30. Christening of Cibell Overton, d. of Lawrence Overton, bowyer.”

Three names practically disappeared in this same century – Olive, Jacomyn or Jacolin, and Grissel:

“1581, Feb. 17. Baptized Olyff, daughter of Degorie Stubbs.” – St. Columb Major.

“1550, Dec. 11. Christning of Grysell, daughter of – Plummer.” – St. Peter, Cornhill.

“1598, March 15. Buried Jacolyn Backley, widow.” – St. Dionis Backchurch.

Olive was a great favourite in the west of England, and was restored by a caprice of fashion as Olivia in the eighteenth century. It was the property of both sexes, and is often found in the dress of “Olliph,” “Olyffe,” and “Olif.” From being a household pet, Dorothy, as Doll, almost disappeared for a while. Doll and Dolly came back in the eighteenth century, under the patronage of the royal and stately Dorothea. What a run it again had! Dolly is one of the few instances of a really double existence. It was the rage from 1450 to 1570; it was overwhelmed with favour from 1750 to 1820. Dr. Syntax in his travels meets with three Dollys. Napoleon is besought in the rhymes of the day to

“quit his folly,Settle in England, and marry Dolly.”

Once more Dolly, saving for Dora, has made her bow and exit. I suppose she may turn up again about 1990, and all the little girls will be wearing Dolly Vardens.

Barbara, with its pet Bab, is now of rarest use. Dowse, the pretty Douce of earlier days, is defunct, and with it the fuller Dowsabel:

“1565, Sep. 9. Buried Dowse, wife of John Thomas.” – St. Dionis Backchurch.

Joyce fought hard, but it was useless:

“1563, Sep. 8. Buried Joyce, wife of Thomas Armstrong.” – St. Dionis Backchurch.

“1575, April 5. Baptized Joyes, daughter of John Lyttacott.” – St. Columb Major.

“1652, Aug. 18. Married Joseph Sumner and Joyce Stallowhace.” – St. Peter, Cornhill.

Lettice disappeared, to come back as Lætitia in the eighteenth century:

“1587, June 19. Married Richard Evannes and Lettis Warren.” – St. Peter, Cornhill.

Amery, or Emery, the property of either sex, lost place:

“1584, April 9. Buried Amery Martin, widow, of Wilsdon.” – St. Peter, Cornhill.

“1668. Emerre Bradley, baker, Hartford.” – “Tokens of Seventeenth Century.”

Avice shared the same fate:

“Avis Kingston and Amary Clerke, widow, applied for arrears of pay due to their husbands, May 13, 1656.” – C. S. P.

“1590-1, Jan. Christened Avis, d. of Philip Cliff.” – Stepney.

“1600, Feb. 6. Baptized Avice, daughter of Thomas Bennett.” – St. Columb Major.

“1623, August 5. Christened Thomas, the sonne of James Jennets, and Avice his wife.” – St. Peter, Cornhill.

Thomasine requires a brief notice. Coming into use as a fancy name about 1450, it seems to have met with no opposition, and for a century and a half was a decided success. It became familiar to every district in England, north or south, and is found in the registers of out-of-the-way villages in Derbyshire, as plentifully as in those of the metropolitan churches:

“1538, Nov. 30. Married Edward Bashe and Thomeson Agar.” – St. Dionis Backchurch.

“1582, Nov. 1. Baptized Tamson, daughter of Richard Hodge.” – St. Columb Major.

“1622, Jan. 19. Christened Thomas, the sonne of Henery Thomson, haberdasher, and of Thomazine his wife.” – St. Peter, Cornhill.

“1620, Jan. 21. Baptized Johanna, fil. Tamsin Smith, adulterina.” – Minster.

“1640, Jan. 31. Buried Thomasing, filia William Sympson.” – Wirksworth, Derbyshire.

In other registers such forms as Thomasena, Thomesin, Thomazin, Tomasin, and Thomasin occur. In Cowley’s “Chronicle,” too, the name is found:

“Then Jone and Jane and Audria,And then a pretty Thomasine,And then another Katharine,And then a long et cætera.”V. The General Confusion

But what a state of confusion does all this reveal! By the time of the Commonwealth, there was the choice of three methods of selection open to the English householder in this matter of names. He might copy the zealot faction, and select his names from the Scriptures or the category of Christian graces; he might rally by the old English gentleman, who at this time was generally a Cavalier, and Dick, Tom, Harry, or Dolly, his children; or he might be careless about the whole matter, and mix the two, according to his caprice or fancy. That Royalist had no bad conception of the state of society in 1648, when he turned off verses such as these:

“And Greenwich shall be for tenements freeFor saints to possess Pell-Mell,And where all the sport is at Hampton CourtShall be for ourselves to dwell.Chorus. ‘’Tis blessed,’ quoth Bathsheba,And Clemence, ‘We’re all agreed.’‘’Tis right,’ quoth Gertrude, ‘And fit,’ says sweet Jude,And Thomasine, ‘Yea, indeed.’“What though the king proclaimsOur meetings no more shall be;In private we may hold forth the right way,And be, as we should be, free.Chorus. ‘O very well said,’ quoth Con;‘And so will I do,’ says Franck;And Mercy cries, ‘Aye,’ and Mat, ‘Really,’‘And I’m o’ that mind,’ quoth Thank.”

As we shall show in our next chapter, “Thank” was no imaginary name, coined to meet the exigencies of rhyme. Thanks, however, to the good sense of the nation, an effort was made in behalf of such old favourites as John, William, Richard, Robert, and Thomas. So early as 1643, Thomas Adams, Puritan as he was, had delivered himself in a London pulpit to the effect that “he knew ‘Williams’ and ‘Richards’ who, though they bore names not found in sacred story, but familiar to the country, were as gracious saints” as any who bore names found in it (“Meditations upon the Creed”). The Cavalier, we know, had deliberately stuck by the old names. A political skit, already referred to, after running through a list of all the new-fangled names introduced by the fanatics, concludes:

“They’re just like the Gadaren’s swine,Which the devils did drive and bewitch:An herd set on evillWill run to the de-villAnd his dam when their tailes do itch.‘Then let ’em run on!’Says Ned, Tom, and John.‘Ay, let ’um be hanged!’ quoth Mun:‘They’re mine,’ quoth old Nick,‘And take ’um,’ says Dick,‘And welcome!’ quoth worshipful Dun.‘And God blesse King Charles!’ quoth George,‘And save him,’ says Simon and Sill;‘Aye, aye,’ quoth old Cole and each loyall soul,‘And Amen, and Amen!’ cries Will.”

Another ballad, lively and free as the other, published in 1648, and styled “The Anarchie, or the Blest Reformation,” after railing at the confusion of things in general, and names in particular, concludes with the customary jolly old English flourish:

“‘A health to King Charles!’ says Tom;‘Up with it,’ says Ralph like a man;‘God bless him,’ says Moll, ‘And raise him,’ says Doll,‘And send him his owne,’ says Nan.”

The Restoration practically ended the conflict, but it was a truce; for both sides, so far as nomenclature is concerned, retained trophies of victory, and, on the whole, the Hebrew was the gainer. At the start he had little to lose, and he has filled the land with titles that had lain in abeyance for four thousand years. The old English yeoman has lost many of his most honoured cognomens, but he can still, at least, boast one thing. The two names that were foremost before the middle of the twelfth century stand at this moment in the same position. Out of every hundred children baptized in England, thirteen are entered in the register as John or William. The Cavalier, too, can boast that “Charles,”28 although there were not more of that name throughout the length and breadth of England at the beginning of Elizabeth’s reign than could be counted on the fingers of one hand, now occupies the sixth place among male baptismal names.

Several names, now predominant, were for various reasons lifted above the contest. George holds the fourth position among boys; Mary and Elizabeth, the first and second among girls. George dates all his popularity from the last century, and Mary was in danger of becoming obsolete at the close of Elizabeth’s reign, so hateful had it become to Englishmen, whether Churchmen or Presbyterians. It was at this time Philip, too, lost a place it can never recover. But the fates came to the rescue of Mary, when the Prince of Orange landed at Torbay, and sate with James’s daughter on England’s throne. It has been first favourite ever since. As for Elizabeth, a chapter might be written upon it. Just known, and no more, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, it was speedily popularized in the “daughter of the Reformation.” The Puritans, in spite of persecution and other provocations, were ever true to “Good Queen Bess.” The name, too, was scriptural, and had not been mixed up with centuries of Romish superstition. Elizabeth ruled supreme, and was contorted and twisted into every conceivable shape that ingenuity could devise. It narrowly escaped the diminutive desinence, for Ezot and Ezota occur to my knowledge four times in records between 1500 and 1530. But Bess and Bessie took up the running, and, a century later, Bett and Betty. It will surprise almost all my readers, I suspect, to know that the “Lady Bettys” of the early part of last century were never, or rarely ever, christened Elizabeth. Queen Anne’s reign, even William and Mary’s reign, saw the fashionable rage for Latinized forms, already referred to, setting in. Elizabeth was turned into Bethia and Betha:

“1707, Jan. 2. Married Willm. Simonds and Bethia Ligbourne.” – St. Dionis Backchurch.

“1721. Married Charles Bawden to Bethia Thornton.” – Somerset House Chapel.

“1748. Married Adam Allyn to Bethia Lee.”29– Ditto.

The familiar form of this was Betty:

“Betty Trevor, wife of the Hon. John Trevor, eldest d. of Sir Thomas Frankland, of Thirkleby, in the county of York, Baronet, ob. Dec. 28, 1742, ætat. 25.” – “Suss. Arch. Coll.,” xvii. 148.

Bess was forgotten, and it was not till the present century that, Betty having become the property of the lower orders, who had soon learnt to copy their betters, the higher classes fell back once more on the Bessie of Reformation days.

Meanwhile other freaks of fancy had a turn. Bessie and Betty were dropped into a mill, and ground out as Betsy. This, after a while, was relegated to the peasantry and artisans north of Trent. Then Tetty and Tetsy had an innings. Dr. Johnson always called his wife Tetty. Writing March 28, 1753, he says —

“I kept this day as the anniversary of my Tetty’s death, with prayer and tears in the morning.”

Eliza arose before Elizabeth died; was popular in the seventeenth, much resorted to in the eighteenth, and is still familiar in the nineteenth century. Thomas Nash, in “Summer’s Last Will and Testament,” has the audacity to speak of the queen as —

“that Eliza, England’s beauteous queen,On whom all seasons prosperously attend.”

Dr. Johnson, in an epigram anent Colley Cibber and George II., says —

“Augustus still survives in Maro’s strain,And Spenser’s verse prolongs Eliza’s reign.”

But by the lexicographer’s day, the poorer classes had ceased to recognize that Eliza and Betty were parts of one single name. They took up each on her own account, as a separate name, and thus Betty and Eliza were commonly met with in the same household. This is still frequently seen. The Spectator, the other day, furnished a list of our commonest font names, wherein Elizabeth is placed fourth, with 4610 representatives in every 100,000 of the population. Looking lower down, we find “Eliza” ranked in the twenty-first place with 1507. This is scarcely fair. The two ought to be added together; at least, it perpetuates a misconception.

CHAPTER II.

PURITAN ECCENTRICITIES

“And we have known Williams and Richards, names not found in sacred story, but familiar to our country, prove as gracious saints as any Safe-deliverance, Fight-the-good-fight-of-faith, or such like, which have been rather descriptions than names.” – Thomas Adams, Meditations upon the Creed, 1629.

“In giving names to children, it was their opinion that heathenish names should be avoided, as not so fit for Christians; and also the names of God, and Christ, and angels, and the peculiar offices of the Mediator,” – Neal, History of the Puritans, vol. 1, ch. v. 1565.

I. Introductory

There are still many people who are sceptical about the stories told against the Puritans in the matter of name-giving. Of these some are Nonconformists, who do not like the slights thus cast upon their spiritual ancestry; unaware that while this curious phase was at its climax, Puritanism was yet within the pale of the Church of England. Others, having searched through the lists of the Protector’s Parliaments, Commissioners, and army officers, and having found but a handful of odd baptismal names, declare, without hesitation, that these stories are wicked calumnies. Mr. Peacock, whose book on the “Army Lists of Roundheads and Cavaliers” is well worth study, says, in one of the numbers of Notes and Queries—

“I know modern writers have repeated the same thing over and over again; but I do not remember any trustworthy evidence of the Commonwealth time, or that of Charles II., that would lead us to believe that strange christian names were more common in those days than now. What passages have we on this subject in the works of the Restoration playwrights?”

This is an old mistake. If Mr. Peacock had looked at our registers from 1580 to 1640, instead of from 1640 to 1680, he would never have written the above. There is the most distinct evidence that during the latter portion of Elizabeth’s reign, the whole of James’s reign, and great part of Charles’s reign, in a district roughly comprising England south of the Trent, and having, say, Banbury for its centre, there prevailed, amongst a certain class of English religionists, a practice of baptizing children by scriptural phrases, pious ejaculations, or godly admonitions. It was a practice instituted of deliberate purpose, as conducive to vital religion, and as intending to separate the truly godly and renewed portion of the community from the world at large. The Reformation epoch had seen the English middle and lower classes generally adopting the proper names of Scripture. Thus, the sterner Puritan had found a list of Bible names that he would gladly have monopolized, shared in by half the English population. That a father should style his child Nehemiah, or Abacuck, or Tabitha, or Dorcas, he discovered with dismay, did not prove that that particular parent was under any deep conviction of sin. This began to trouble the minds and consciences of the elect. Fresh limits must be created. As Richard and Roger had given way to Nathaniel and Zerrubabel, so Nathaniel and Zerrubabel must now give way to Learn-wisdom and Hate-evil. Who inaugurated the movement, with what success, and how it slowly waned, this chapter will show.

There can be no doubt that it is entirely owing to Praise-God Barebone, and the Parliament that went by his name,30 the impression got abroad in after days that the Commonwealth period was the heyday of these eccentricities, and that these remarkable names were merely adopted after conversion, and were not entered in the vestry-books as baptismal names at all.

The existence of these names could not escape the attention of Lord Macaulay and Sir Walter Scott. The Whig historian has referred to Tribulation Wholesome and Zeal-of-the-land Busy almost as frequently as to that fourth-form boy for whose average (!) abilities to the very end of his literary life he entertained such a profound respect. Two quotations will suffice. In his “Comic Dramatists of the Restoration” he says, speaking of the Commonwealth —

“To know whether a man was really godly was impossible. But it was easy to know whether he had a plain dress, lank hair, no starch in his linen, no gay furniture in his house; whether he talked through his nose, and showed the whites of his eyes; whether he named his children Assurance, Tribulation, and Maher-shalal-hash-baz.”

Again, in his Essay on Croker’s “Boswell’s Life of Johnson,” he declares —

“Johnson could easily see that a Roundhead who named all his children after Solomon’s singers, and talked in the House of Commons about seeking the Lord, might be an unprincipled villain, whose religious mummeries only aggravated his fault.”

In “Woodstock,” Scott has such characters as Zerrubabel Robins and Merciful Strickalthrow, both soldiers of Oliver Cromwell; while the zealot ranter is one Nehemiah Holdenough. Mr. Peacock most certainly has grounds for complaint here, but not as to facts, only dates.