The period in which these names began to assume an hereditary character varies so greatly that it is impossible to make any definite statement. As a familiar custom I should say it arose in the twelfth century. But there are places, both in Lancashire and Yorkshire, where, as in Wales, men are wont to be styled to this very day by a complete string of patronymics. To hear a man called ‘Bill’s o’Jack’s,’ ‘o’Dick’s,’ ‘o’Harry’s,’ ‘o’Tom’s,’ is by no means a rare incident. A hit at this formerly common Welsh practice is given in ‘Sir John Oldcastle,’ a play printed in 1600, in which ran the following conversation:—
‘Judge: What bail? What sureties?
‘Davy: Her cozen ap Rice, ap Evan, ap Morice, ap Morgan, ap Llewellyn, ap Madoc, ap Meredith, ap Griffin, ap Davis, ap Owen, ap Shinkin Jones.
‘Judge: Two of the most efficient are enow.
‘Sheriff: And ’t please your lordship, these are all but one.’
This ‘ap,’ the Welsh equivalent of our English ‘son,’ when it has come before a name beginning with a vowel, has in many instances become incorporated with it. Thus ‘Ap-Hugh’ has given us ‘Pugh,’ ‘Ap-Rice,’ just mentioned, ‘Price,’ or as ‘Reece,’ ‘Preece;’ ‘Ap-Owen,’ ‘Bowen;’ ‘Ap-Evan,’ ‘Bevan;’ ‘Ap-Robert,’ ‘Probert;’ ‘Ap-Roger,’ ‘Prodger;’ ‘Ap-Richard,’ ‘Pritchard;’ ‘Ap-Humphrey,’ ‘Pumphrey;’ ‘Ap-Ithell,’ ‘Bethell;’[[4]] or ‘Ap-Howell,’ ‘Powell.’[[5]] ‘Prosser’ has generally been thought a corruption of ‘proser,’ one who was garrulously inclined; but this is a mistake, it is simply ‘Ap-Rosser.’ The Norman patronymic was formed similarly as the Welsh, by a prefix, that of ‘fitz,’ the modern French ‘fils.’ Surnames of this class were at first common. Thus we find such names as ‘Fitz-Gibbon,’ ‘Fitz-Gerald,’ ‘Fitz-Patrick,’ ‘Fitz-Waryn,’ ‘Fitz-Rauf,’ ‘Fitz-Payn,’ ‘Fitz-Richard,’ or ‘Fitz-Neele.’ But though this obtained for awhile among some of the nobler families of our country, it has made in general no sensible impression upon our surnames. The Saxon added ‘son,’ as a desinence, as ‘Williamson,’ that is, ‘William’s son,’ or ‘Bolderson,’ that is, ‘Baldwin’s son,’ or merely the genitive suffix, as ‘Williams,’ or ‘Richards.’ This class has been wonderfully enlarged by the custom then in vogue, as now, of reducing every baptismal name to some curt and familiar monosyllable. It agreed with the rough-and-ready humour of the Anglo-Norman character so to do. How common this was we may see from Gower’s description of the insurrection of Wat Tyler:
‘Watte’ vocat, cui ‘Thoma’ venit, neque ‘Symme’ retardat,
‘Bat’-que ‘Gibbe’ simul, ‘Hykke’ venire jubent:
‘Colle’ furit, quem ‘Bobbe’ juvat nocumenta parantes,
Cum quibus, ad damnum ‘Wille’ coire volat—