(a) Beasts.—Our ‘Bests,’ when not local, are but the ‘Richard le Bestes’ or ‘Henry le Bestes’ of the thirteenth century. Their superlative excellence is therefore imaginary, I fear, but we may be permitted to hope that they are what they appear. ‘Edith Beest,’ in the sixteenth century, is nearer our modern form. Our ‘Oliphants,’ ‘Olivants,’ and ‘Ollivants’ represent but the elephant, and owe their origin, doubtless, to the huge and ungainly proportions of some early ancestor. In the ‘Romance of Alexander’ is a strange description of the fabled monoceros, which would seem to have been a kind of potpourri of all other beasts, for besides a tail like a hog, tusks like a dog, and a head like a hart’s—

Made is his cors

After the forme of a hors,

Fete after olifant, certis.[[566]]

This sobriquet, in a day when size and strength went for much, does not seem to have been thought objectionable, for its owners have left issue enough to prevent its ever falling into abeyance.[[567]] Thus we see we may meet with elephants every day in our streets without going to the Zoological Gardens for them. Our ‘Lions’ (‘Richard Lion,’ V. 2) and ‘Lyons,’ when not local,[[568]] speak doubtless for the brave heart of some early progenitor. Our ‘Bears,’ relics of ‘Richard le Bere’ (A.) or ‘Lawrence le Bere’ (M.), as a reflection upon a surly temper, would be less complimentary, or perhaps the original nominee wore his hair shaggy and long. A fierce disposition would meet with rebuke or praise, as the case might be, in such a sobriquet as ‘John Lepard,’ or ‘Tiger,’ now all but obsolete, saving for our striped and liveried youths; or ‘Wolf’ (‘Elena le Wolfe,’ A., ‘Philip le Wolf,’ M.), with its more Norman ‘Lupe’[[569]] (‘Robert le Lupe,’ B.), or ‘Lovel’[[570]] or ‘Love’ (‘Robert le Love,’ A.), the latter being in flat contradiction to the usually ascribed instincts of the animal. Timidity or reserve, or perchance fleetness of foot, would soon find itself exalted in ‘Geoffrey le Hare,’ ‘Reginalde le Raye,’ ‘Walter le Buk,’ ‘Hobart le Hart,’ ‘Dorothie le Stagge,’ ‘Henry Rascal,’[[571]] ‘William le Do,’ or ‘Alicia le Ro,’ the ancestors of our ‘Hares,’ ‘Rays,’ or ‘Wrays,’ ‘Bucks,’[[572]] ‘Harts,’ ‘Stags,’ ‘Does,’ or ‘Roes,’ of legal notoriety, and ‘Prickets.’ That old spoiler of hen-roosts, the polecat, has left us in ‘Fitch’ and ‘Fitchett’ no very happy relationship of ideas. Craftiness would be very properly stigmatised in ‘Henry le Fox’ or ‘John le Tod,’ and a ‘John le Renaud’ occurring in the Parliamentary Rolls reminds us that some of our ‘Renauds’ and ‘Renards’ may be more closely associated with this wily denizen of our forest fastnesses than they think. The badger has originated ‘Walter le Broc’ or ‘Henry le Brok’ (now Brock); the beaver ‘John le Bever,’ or ‘John le Bevere’ (now Beaver).[[573]] The rabbit gave us ‘Henry Cony’ and ‘John Conay;’ the weasel ‘Mathew le Martun’ (now Marten); the mole ‘Walter le Want’ (now Want); the nimble haunter of our forest boughs ‘Thomas le Squyrelle’ (now Squirrell), and the otter ‘Alan Otere,’ or ‘Edward Oter’ (now Otter).

Nor must we forget the farmyard and its accessories, which, as we might readily presume, are well represented. ‘Alice le Buie,’ or ‘William le Buie’ (now Bull), is a sobriquet which has now such a firm place as symbolic of our national character that we need not show to what peculiarities of temperament they owed their name. ‘Simon le Steer,’ ‘Peter le Vache,’ with its Saxon ‘Thomas le Cu’ or ‘Ralph le Cou,’ ‘Richard le Calf’[[574]] ‘Godwin le Bulloc,’ ‘Peter le Stot,’ ‘Roger le Colt,’ are all of common occurrence, and still abide with us. ‘Roger le Mule,’ as representative of obstinacy, we might have suspected, would have become early obsolete, but it still survives.[[575]] ‘Robert le Veyle,’ or ‘William le Veel,’ now written ‘Veale,’ ‘Philip le Mutton,’ and ‘John le Bœuf,’ or ‘Robert le Bef,’[[576]] carry us back to the day when these several terms denoted the living animal. Thus, with respect to the last, Burton in his ‘Anatomy,’ translating Plautus, says—

Like other cooks I do not supper dress,

That put whole meadows into a platter,

And make no better of their guests than beeves,

With herbs and grass to feed them fatter.—p. 69.