And Sire Waryn the Witty
And warnede wrong.
‘Robert Warinot,’ in the Hundred Rolls, and ‘William Warinot’ in the Placita de Quo Warranto, reveal the origin of our ‘Warnetts;’ while our ‘Wareings,’ ‘Warings,’ ‘Warisons,’ ‘Wasons,’ and ‘Fitz-Warins’—often written ‘Fitz-Warren’—not to mention the majority of our ‘Warrens,’[[19]] are other of the descendants of this famous old name that still survive. A favourite name in these days was ‘Payn,’ or ‘Pagan.’ The softer form is given us in the ‘Man of Lawes Tale’—
The Constable, and Dame Hermegild his wife,
Were payenes, and that country everywhere.
We all know the history of the word; how that, while the Gospel had made advance in the cities, but not yet penetrated into the country, the dwellers in the latter became looked upon with a something of contempt as idolaters, so that, so far as this word was concerned, ‘countryman’ and ‘false-worshipper’ became synonymous terms. In fact, ‘pagan’ embraced the two meanings that ‘peasant’ and ‘pagan’ now convey, though the root of both is the same. The Normans, it would appear, must have so styled some of themselves who had refused baptism after that their chieftain, Rollo, had become a convert; and hence, when William came over, the name was introduced into England by several of his followers. In Domesday Book we find among his tenants-in-chief the names of ‘Ralph Paganel’ and ‘Edmund fil. Pagani.’ The name became more popular as time went on, and it is no exaggeration to say that at one period—viz., the close of the Norman dynasty—it had threatened to become one of the most familiar appellatives in England. This will account for the frequency with which we meet such entries in the past as ‘Robert fil. Pain,’ ‘Pain del Ash,’ ‘Pagan de la Hale,’ ‘Roger fil. Pagan,’ ‘Payen le Dubbour,’ or ‘Elis le Fitz-Payn,’ and such surnames in the present as ‘Pagan,’ ‘Payne,’ ‘Payn,’ ‘Paine,’ ‘Pain,’ and ‘Pynson.’ The diminutive also was not wanting, as ‘John Paynett’ (Z) or ‘Emma Paynot’ (W 2) could have testified. Thus, while in our dictionaries ‘pagan’ still represents a state of heathenism, in our directories it has long ago been converted to the uses of Christianity, and become at the baptismal font a Christian name. ‘Ivar,’ or ‘Iver,’ still familiarised to Scotchmen in ‘Mac-Iver,’ came to the Normans from the northern lands whence they were sprung, and with them into England. It was not its first appearance here, as St. Ives of Huntingdonshire could have testified in the seventh century. Still its popular character was due to the Norman. Such names as ‘Yvo de Taillbois’ (1211), mentioned in Bishop Pudsey’s ‘Survey of the Durham See,’ ‘Ivo le Mercer,’ ‘Walter fil. Ive,’ ‘William Iveson,’ ‘Iveta Millisent,’ or ‘John fil. Ivette,’ serve to show us how familiar was this appellation with both sexes.[[20]] Nor are its descendants inclined to let its memory die. We have the simple ‘Ive’ and ‘Ives;’ we have the more patronymic ‘Iverson,’ ‘Ivison,’ ‘Iveson,’ and ‘Ison,’ and the pet ‘Ivetts’ and ‘Ivatts,’ the latter possibly feminine in origin.
‘Hamo,’ or ‘Hamon,’ requires a paragraph for itself. It is firmly imbedded in our existing nomenclature, and has played an important part in its time. Its forms were many, and though obsolete as baptismal names, all have survived as surnames. Of these may be mentioned our ‘Hamons,’ ‘Haymons,’ ‘Aymons,’ and ‘Fitz-Aymons.’ Formed like ‘Rawlyn,’ ‘Thomlin,’ and ‘Cattlin,’ it bequeathed us ‘Hamlyn,’ a relic of such folk as ‘Hamelyn de Trap’ or ‘Osbert Hamelyn.’ Another change rung on the name is traceable in such entries as ‘Hamund le Mestre,’ ‘Hamond Cobeler,’ or ‘John Fitz-Hamond,’ the source of our ‘Hammonds’ and ‘Hamonds;’ while in ‘Alice Hamundson’ or ‘William Hamneson’ we see the lineage of our many ‘Hampsons.’ But these are the least important. The Norman-French diminutive, ‘Hamonet,’ speedily corrupted into ‘Hamnet’ and ‘Hammet,’ became one of our favourite baptismal names, and towards the reign of Elizabeth one of the commonest. A ‘Hamnet de Dokinfield’ is found so early as 1270 at Manchester (Didsbury Ch. Cheth. Soc.). Shakespeare’s son was baptized ‘Hamnet,’ and was so called after ‘Hamnet Sadler,’ a friend of the poet’s—a baker at Stratford. This man is styled ‘Hamlet’ also, reminding us of another pet form of the name. We have already mentioned ‘Richard,’ ‘Christian,’ ‘Hugh,’ and ‘Hobbe,’ as severally giving birth to the diminutives, ‘Rickelot,’ ‘Crestelot,’ ‘Huelot,’ and ‘Hobelot.’ In the same way, ‘Hamon’ became ‘Hamelot,’ or ‘Hamelet,’ hence such entries as ‘Richard, son of Hamelot’ (AA 2), and ‘Hamelot de la Burste’ (Cal. and Inv. of Treasury). Out of fifteen ‘Hamnets’ set down in ‘Wills and Inventories’ (Cheth. Soc.), six are recorded as ‘Hamlet,’ one being set down in both forms as ‘Hamnet Massey’ and ‘Hamlet Massey’ (cf. i. 148, ii. 201). If the reader will look through the index of Blomefield’s ‘Norfolk,’ he will find that ‘Hamlet’ in that county had taken the entire place of ‘Hamnet.’ Amid a large number of the former I cannot find one of the latter. It would be a curious question how far Shakespeare was biassed by the fact of having a ‘Hamlet’ in his nursery into changing ‘Hambleth’ (the original title of the story) to the form he has now immortalized. An open Bible, and, further on, a Puritan spirit have left their influence on no name more markedly than ‘Hamon.’ As one after another new Bible character was commemorated at the font, ‘Hamon’ got crushed out. Its last refuge has been found in our directories, for so long as our ‘Hamlets,’ ‘Hamnets,’ ‘Hammets,’ ‘Hammonds,’ and ‘Hampsons’ exist, it cannot be utterly forgotten.
‘Guy,’ or ‘Guyon,’ dates from the ‘Round Table,’ but it was reserved for the Norman to make his name so familiar to English lips. The best proof of this is that the surnames which it has left to us are all but entirely formed from the Norman-French diminutive ‘Guyot,’ which in England became, of course, ‘Wyot.’ Hence such entries as ‘Wyot fil. Helias,’ or ‘Wyott Carpenter,’ or ‘Wyot Balistarius.’ The descendants of these, I need scarcely say, are our ‘Wyatts.’ But the Norman initial was not entirely lost. ‘Aleyn Gyot’ is found in the ‘Rolls of Parliament;’ and ‘Guyot’ and ‘Guyatt’ testify to its existence in the nineteenth century.[[21]] ‘Ralph,’ or ‘Radulf,’ of whom there were thirty-eight in Domesday, has survived in a number of forms. Our ‘Raffs’ and ‘Raffsons’ can carry back their descent to days when ‘Raffe Barton’ or ‘Peter Raffson’ thus signed themselves. The favourite pet forms were ‘Rawlin’ and ‘Randle;’ hence such entries as ‘Raulyn de la Fermerie,’ ‘Raulina de Briston,’ or ‘Randle de la Mill.’ To these it is we owe our ‘Rawlins,’ ‘Rawlings,’ ‘Rawlinsons,’ ‘Rollins,’ ‘Rollinsons,’ ‘Randles’ and ‘Randalls.’ Other and more ordinary corruptions are found in ‘Rawes,’ ‘Rawson,’ ‘Rawkins,’ ‘Rapkins,’ and ‘Rapson.’ The reader may easily see from this that ‘Ralph,’ from occupying a place in the foremost rank of early favourites, is content now to stand in the very rear.
There are a number of names still in use, although not so popular as they once were, which were brought in directly by the Normans, and which were closely connected with the real or imaginary stories of which Charlemagne was the central figure. Italy, France, and Spain possess a larger stock than we do of this class, but those which did reach our shores made for themselves a secure position. ‘Charles,’ by some strange accident, did not obtain a place in England, nor is it to be found in our registers, saving in the most isolated instances, till Charles the First, by his misfortunes, made it one of the commonest in the land. In France, as Sir Walter Scott, in ‘Quentin Durward,’ reminds us, the pet form was ‘Charlot’ and ‘Charlat.’ This, as a surname, soon found its way to England, where it has existed for many centuries. The feminine ‘Charlotte,’ since the death of the beloved Princess of that name, has become almost a household word. Putting aside ‘Charles,’ then, the Paladins have bequeathed us ‘Roland,’ ‘Oliver,’ ‘Robert,’ ‘Richard,’ ‘Roger,’ ‘Reginald,’ ‘Reynard,’ and ‘Miles.’ We see at once in these names the parentage of some of our most familiar surnames. ‘Oliver’ was, perhaps, the least popular so far as numbers were concerned, and might have died out entirely had not the Protector Cromwell brought it again into notoriety. ‘Oliver,’ ‘Olver,’ ‘Ollier,’ and ‘Oliverson’ are the present forms, and these are met by such entries as ‘Jordan Olyver,’ or ‘Philip fil. Oliver.’ ‘Roland,’ or ‘Orlando,’ was the nephew of the great Charles, who fell in his peerless might at Roncesvalles. Of him and Oliver, Walter Scott, translating the Norman chronicle, says—
Taillefer, who sang both well and loud,