And made eke in a maselin,
And real spicerie.
There is scarce a record of any magnitude or importance which has not its several surnames derived from the occupation of carving this cup, and as the term itself was variously pronounced and spelt, so did the name vary. For instances the Hundred Rolls give us ‘Adam le Mazerer;’ the Close Rolls, ‘William le Macerer;’ the Warranty Rolls, ‘William le Mazeliner;’ and the London Records give us again a ‘John le Mazerer.’ Besides these we have ‘Mazelyn,’ ‘Maselyn,’ and ‘Mazarin,’ probably sign-names, the latter familiarised to us in the celebrated Cardinal of that name. Strange to say, ‘Maslin’ and ‘Masser,’ or ‘Macer,’ all rare, are now the only relics we possess of this once well-known surname and occupation. No instance I can furnish more clearly demonstrates the uncertainty of descent in our personal nomenclature. Such a name as ‘Geoffrey le Hanaper’ or ‘William Hampermaker’ bequeaths us a strange story of changed circumstance. The shorter appellation, common enough at this time, still lives in our ‘Hampers.’ While the macer was invariably of maple, the ‘hanap,’ or two-handed goblet, might be of wood or metal. From the fact of a ‘hanaper,’ Latinized in our archives into ‘hanaperium,’ being the crate where these hanaps were kept, it acquired a secondary sense of a repository for things of a more general character. Thus has arisen the ‘Hanaper Office’[[396]] in Chancery, where writs were treasured up in a basket; and thus also it is that we now talk of a ‘hamper,’ a term so delightfully familiar to schoolboys about Christmas time. Our common ‘Bowlers’ represent such olden personages as ‘Robert le Bollere’ or ‘Adam le Boloure,’ they who made the cheap wooden ‘bowl’ or ‘boll.’ The old spelling still survives botanically in such a phrase as we find in the Authorized Version, where it speaks of the ‘flax being bolled,’ that is, the seed vessel was forming. It is always so spelt with our mediæval writers. Thus Glutton, in the ‘Plowman’s Vision,’ after sleeping away his last drunken bout, wakes, and—
The firste worde that he warpe
Was, ‘Were is the bolle?’
‘William le Cuppere’ and ‘Richard le Kuppere,’ while engaged in the same occupation, are, speaking surnominally, absorbed, I doubt not, by our ‘Coopers’ and ‘Cowpers.’ ‘Copper’ may be but another antique form of the same. Langland speaks of—
Coupes of clere gold
And coppes of silver.
I shall have occasion almost immediately to mention Chaucer, as speaking of ‘turning cups,’ which would seem to infer that they too were often made of wood.
Another name once existing was that of ‘Doubler,’ a maker or seller of the ‘doubler’ or ‘dobeler,’ or dish; a term derived from the French ‘doublier.’ The word is still in use in the North of England,[[397]] and both ‘Doubler’ and ‘Doubleman’ are in our directories of to-day. The name of ‘Scutelaire’ must be set here also, though when we think of our modern coalscuttle we might imagine it somewhat of an interloper. A change, however, has come over the stricter meaning of the word. A ‘scutel’ was formerly nothing more nor less than a wooden or metallic dish or platter used on our early dressoirs for culinary purposes. It seems ever to have had its place in the dining-hall, for in the household expenses of Bishop Swinfield (Camden Soc.) we find the entry, ‘xv. scutellis, xvii. salsariis.’ The learned editor of this book, commenting upon this passage, says, ‘“scutella” is a word of somewhat extensive application to dishes or platters, saucers or salvers, and it is retained in our present English “scuttle.”’ I doubt not with him that while ‘scutum,’ a shield, is the root, the term is here intended to refer to the large flat spoons or plates used for the sauce-dishes. It is from his resemblance to these that some wide-mouthed country bumpkin is set down in the Hundred Rolls as ‘Arnold Scutelmuth,’ while the occupation of making them finds its memorial in the Rolls of Parliament in such a sobriquet as ‘James le Scutelaire.’ Speaking, however, of the dining table, we may here mention the cutler. Of such a name as ‘Henry Knyfesmythe’ I have already had occasion to hint. The cutler enjoyed, or perhaps I ought to say was the victim of, a very uncertain orthography in mediæval times, and some of the forms found are extremely curious. I may cite such personages as ‘Richard le Cutyler,’ ‘John le Cotiler,’ ‘Peter le Cotyler,’ ‘Henry le Coteler,’ or ‘Solomon le Cotiller’ as representative of those which were then most in vogue. All are now content, it would seem, to be absorbed in the simple ‘Cutler.’ Strange to say, I cannot find a single ancestor of our familiar ‘Spooner.’ A mediæval rhymester, however, speaks of ‘sponers, turners, and hatters.’ With many of these names I have just mentioned the ironmonger would have much to do. The uncertain form of the term used for this material gave rise to three familiar words, those of ‘iron,’ ‘ise,’ or ‘ire.’ Trevisa speaks of England as being plenteous in ‘veynes of metayls, of bras, of yre, of leed, of tyn, of selver.’[[398]] Thus while ‘Henry le Ironmonger’ dealt, as no one of my readers will doubt, in vessels and utensils of the material his name suggests, it is not to be supposed that ‘Geoffrey le Iremonger’ or ‘William le Irremongere’ was but a cant nickname for one of splenetic temperament; or that in ‘Isabel le Isemonger’ or ‘Agnes la Ismongere’ we have traces of any disposition for those frozen creams which in the hot summer time we of the nineteenth century are so glad to seek on the confectioner’s counter. All alike were hardware manufacturers. The present forms are ‘Iremonger,’ ‘Irmonger,’ and ‘Ironmonger.’