Pollard was applied to a beast or stag that had lost its horns--

"He has no horns, sir, has he?

"No, sir, he's a pollard."

(Beaumont and Fletcher, Philaster, v. 4.)

Leverett is certified by the French surname Levrault. Derivation from Lever, Anglo-Sax. Leofhere, whence Levers, Leverson, or Leveson, is much less probable, as these Anglo-Saxon names rarely form dims.

(Chapter VII). Luttrel is in French Loutrel, perhaps a dim. of loutre, otter, Lat. lutra. From the medieval lutrer or lutrarius, otter hunter, we get Lutterer, no doubt confused with the musical Luter.

While Catt is fairly common in the eastern counties, Robertus le chien and Willelmus le curre, who were living about the end of the twelfth century, are now completely disguised as Ken and Kerr. Modern French has both Lechien and the Norman Lequien. [Footnote: Lekain, the name of a famous French actor, has the same origin.] We owe a few other surnames to the friend of man. Kennett, from a Norman dim. of chien, meant greyhound--

"Kenette, hounde, leporarius." (Prompt. Parv.)

The origin of the name Talbot is unknown, and it is uncertain whether the hound or the family should have precedence; but Chaucer seems to use it as the proper name of a hound

"Ran Colle our dogge, and Talbot, and Gerland, And Malkyn, with a dystaf in hir hand."

(B, 4573.)

The great Earl of Shrewsbury is affectionately called "Talbot, our good dogge" in political rimes of the fifteenth century.

In early dictionaries may be found long lists of the fanciful names, such as Bright, Lightfoot, Ranger, Ringwood, Swift, Tempest, given to hounds. This practice seems to throw some light on such surnames as Tempest, with which we may compare the German names Storm and Sturm.

In the Pipe Rolls the name le esturmi, the stormy, occurs several times. To the same cla.s.s belongs Thunder, found in the Pipe Rolls as Tonitruus, and not therefore necessarily a perversion of Tunder, i.e.

Sherman (Chapter XVIII)--

"Tondeur de draps, a shearman, or clothworker." (Cotgrave.)

Garland, used by Chaucer as a dog's name, was earlier graland, and, as le garlaund is also found, it may be referred to Old Fr. grailler, to trumpet. It no doubt has other origins.

We should expect Fox to be strongly represented, and we find the compounds Colfox and Stelfox. The first means black fox--

"A colfox ful of sly iniquitee"

(B, 4405)--

and I conjecture that the first part of Stelfox is connected with stealing, as in the medieval name Stele-cat--

"The two constables made a thorough search and found John Stelfox hiding behind some bushes. Some of the jewellery was found upon him"

(Daily Chronicle, June 3, 1913).

In the north a fox is called Tod, whence Todhunter. This Tod is probably a personal name, like the French Renard and the Scottish Lawrie or Lowrie, applied to the same animal. Allan Ramsay calls him "slee Tod Lowrie." From the badger we have Brock and sometimes Gray--

Blaireau, a badger, gray, boason, brock (Cotgrave)--

but Badger itself is occupative (Chapter XIX). The polecat survives as Fitch, Fitchett, and Fitchew--

"Fissau, a filch, or fulmart."

(Cotgrave.)

FISHES

On fish-names Bardsley remarks, "We may quote the famous chapter on 'Snakes in Iceland': 'There are no snakes in Iceland,' and say there are no fish-names in England." This is almost true. The absence of marked traits of character in the, usually invisible, fish would militate against the adoption of such names. We should not expect to find the shark to be represented, for the word is of too late occurrence. But Whale is fairly common. Whale the mariner received two pounds from Henry VII's privy purse in 1498. The story of Jonah, or very generous proportions, may have originated the name Whalebelly, "borne by a respectable family in south-east England" (Bardsley).

But there would obviously be no great temptation to go fishing for nicknames when the beasts of the farmyard and the forest, the birds of the marshes and the air, offered on every side easily understood comparisons. At the same time Bardsley's statement goes a little too far. He explains Gudgeon as a corruption of Goodison. But this, true though it may be in some cases, will not explain the very common French surname Goujon. The phrase "greedy gudgeon" suggests that in this case a certain amount of character had been noticed in the fish.

Sturgeon also seems to be a genuine fish-name. We find Fr. Lesturgeon and Ger. Stoer, both meaning the same. We have also Smelt and the synonymous Spurling. In French and German we find other surnames which undoubtedly belong to this cla.s.s, but they are not numerous and probably at first occurred only in regions where fishing or fish-curing were important industries.

A few examples will show that apparent fish-names are usually not genuine. Chubb is for Job (Chapter III), Eeles is one of the numerous derivatives of Elias (Chapter IX), Hake is, like Hack, from the Scandinavian Hacun, Haddock is sometimes a perversion of the local Haydock, Lamprey comes via Old French from Old High Ger. Landprecht, which has usually given Lambert.

Pike is local (Chapter XII), Pilchard is for Pilcher (Chapter XVIII), Roach is Fr. Laroche, Salmon is for Salomon, and Turbot is the Anglo-Sax. Thurbeorht, which has also given Tarbut, as ThurG.o.d has given Targett. But in few of the above examples is the possibility of fish origin absolutely excluded.

SPECIAL FEATURES

We have also many surnames due to physical resemblances not extending beyond one feature. Birdseye may be sometimes of local origin, from ey, island (Chapter XII), but as a genuine nickname it is as natural as the sobriquet of Hawkeye which Natty b.u.mppo received from the Hurons. German has the much less pleasing Gansauge, goose-eye; and Alan Oil de larrun, thief's eye, was fined for very reprehensible conduct in 1183. To explain Crowfoot as an imitative variant of Crawford is absurd when we find a dozen German surnames of the same cla.s.s and formation and as many in Old or Modern French beginning with pied de. Cf. Pettigrew (Chapter XXI) and Sheepshanks. We find in the Paris Directory not only Piedeleu (Old Fr. leu, wolf) and Piedoie (oie, goose), but even the full Pied-de-Lievre, Professeur a la Faculte de droit. The name Bulleid was spelt in the sixteenth century bul-hed, i.e. bull-head, a literal rendering of Front de Boeuf.

Weatherhead (Chapter XIX) is perhaps usually a nickname

"For that old weather-headed fool, I know how to laugh at him."

(Congreve, Love for Love, ii. 7.)

c.o.xhead is another obvious nickname. A careful a.n.a.lysis of some of the most important medieval name-lists would furnish hundreds of further examples, some too outspoken to have survived into our degenerate age, and others which are now so corrupted that their original vigour is quite lost.

Puns and jokes upon proper names are, pace Gregory the Great and Shakespeare, usually very inept and stupid; but the following lines by James Smith, which may be new to some of my readers, are really clever--

Men once were surnamed from their shape or estate (You all may from History worm it); There was Lewis the Bulky, and Henry the Great, John Lackland, and Peter the Hermit.

But now, when the door-plates of Misters and Dames Are read, each so constantly varies From the owner's trade, figure, and calling, Surnames Seem given by the rule of contraries.

Mr. Box, though provoked, never doubles his fist, Mr. Burns, in his grate, has no fuel; Mr. Playfair won't catch me at hazard or whist, Mr. Coward was wing'd in a duel.

Mr. Wise is a dunce, Mr. King is a whig, Mr. Coffin's uncommonly sprightly, And huge Mr. Little broke down in a gig, While driving fat Mrs. Golightly.

Mrs. Drinkwater's apt to indulge in a dram, Mrs. Angel's an absolute fury, And meek Mr. Lyon let fierce Mr. Lamb Tweak his nose in the lobby of Drury.

At Bath, where the feeble go more than the stout, (A conduct well worthy of Nero), Over poor Mr. Lightfoot, confined with the gout, Mr. Heaviside danced a Bolero.

Miss Joy, wretched maid, when she chose Mr. Love, Found nothing but sorrow await her; She now holds in wedlock, as true as a dove, That fondest of mates, Mr. Hayter.

Mr. Oldcastle dwells in a modern-built hut, Miss Sage is of madcaps the archest; Of all the queer bachelors Cupid e'er cut, Old Mr. Younghusband's the starchest.

Mr. Child, in a pa.s.sion, knock'd down Mr. Rock, Mr. Stone like an aspen-leaf shivers; Miss Poole used to dance, but she stands like a stock Ever since she became Mrs. Rivers; Mr. Swift hobbles onward, no mortal knows how, He moves as though cords had entwin'd him; Mr. Metcalfe ran off, upon meeting a cow, With pale Mr. Turnbull behind him.

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

Mr. Gardiner can't tell a flower from a root, Mr. Wilde with timidity draws back, Mr. Ryder performs all his journeys on foot, Mr. Foote all his journeys on horseback.

Mr. Penny, whose father was rolling in wealth, Kick'd down all his fortune his dad won; Large Mr. Le Fever's the picture of health, Mr. Goodenough is but a bad one.

Mr. Cruickshank stept into three thousand a year, By showing his leg to an heiress:-- Now I hope you'll acknowledge I've made it quite clear That surnames ever go by contraries.