but few of us, possibly, are aware that “Baker” and “Baxter” and “Bagster,” all represent the same occupation, and that Baxter is only the old “bakester,” the feminine of Baker, just as Webster is the feminine of Webber, or Brewster of Brewer, or Blaxter (i.e. “Bleachster”) of Bleacher, or Tapster of Tapper. [122] Langland, in his poem entitled “The Vision of Piers Plowman,” speaks of
“Baksteres and brewesteres,
And bochiers manye.”
It will not be irreverent to note the coincidence, that no firm in England have more closely associated their name with the printing of the Bible, “The Bread of Life,” than the Bagsters. It reminds us of that which was no accidental coincidence at all—namely, that Christ Himself, “that true Bread which came down from Heaven,” appeared first at Bethlehem, which literally means “house of bread,” i.e. “bread-shop,” or “bake-house.” “Bacchus,” as already noted, is a corruption of “bake-house,” while our Bullingers, Ballingers, Bollengers, and Furners, and “Pesters,” represent the Norman-French bakers. Our “Cokes” and “Cooks” represent the old public pie-shop, as well as the private cuisine, and this explains the large number of the fraternity immortalised in our directories. An old poem speaks of
“Drovers, cokes, and poulters,
Yermongers, pybakers, and waferers.”
There has ever been a great race in this matter between our “Bakers” and “Cooks” or “Cookes.” Nearly thirty years ago Mr. Lowe, in his Tables of Births, Deaths, and Marriages, gave the following analysis for one year in England and Wales:—
| Births. | Deaths. | Marriages. | |
| Baker | 1033 | 839 | 513 |
| Cook | 910 | 742 | 483 |
In the London Directory for 1871, there appeared 277 Bakers, 56 Baxters, and 2 Bagsters, as against 194 Cooks, 89 Cookes, 1 Coke, 2 Cookmans, and 9 Cooksons. This preserves the same proportion.
In the couplet quoted above occurs the trade name of “Waferer.” This may possibly sound an obsoletism to the reader. But if as a distinct occupation the making of bread wafers is gone, or has fallen into the hands of Messrs. Peek, Frean & Co., and other of our biscuit manufacturers, it has left many memorials behind. Our “Wafers” have fossilised its story in the Directory, and even in our Authorized Version of the Bible (Lev. ii. 4). I have known one or two sturdy Protestants who have objected to the translation: “And if thou bring an oblation of a meat offering baken in the oven, it shall be unleavened cakes of fine flour mingled with oil, or unleavened wafers anointed with oil.” There can be no doubt this is one more relic of Papal days in England. I have seen an old will of the thirteenth century, in which the then Archbishop of York made a small bequest to two “waferers,” who for many years had honestly plied their trade of selling wafers at the Minster gate. Not that the “waferer” confined himself to these. The author of Piers Plowman, not to mention Chaucer himself, puts him among certain disreputable street hawkers, who sold small spiced cakes; but then we must remember that the “Malvern Dreamer” wrote his poem against the lewdness of the priesthood—in fact, he was a trumpeter of the Reformation to come—and he would not object to set down the humblest servitor of the papal establishment, even a waferer, in as low a scale as he could. It is this that to my mind makes the history of English surnames so interesting. If we visit Pompeii we see in the streets and chambers that have been cleared of débris the very accidents of life and thought well-nigh 2000 years ago. We have but to clear away the little corruptions of spelling or pronunciation which have befallen these old-fashioned names, and spell-bound we are gazing into the life—the every-day religious and social life—of our English forefathers four hundred years ago. The antiquary and the philologist alike may take up the London Directory with reverence, for therein lies a fund of information to his hand, which it might occupy months of pain and trouble otherwise to accumulate.
Having dealt with “the butcher” and “the baker,” there is yet the “candlestick-maker” to be considered. Our “Chandlers” and “Candlers” explain themselves. Our “Turners” turned out all manner of wooden gear, and doubtless candlesticks were amongst them. There are plenty of “Bowlers” in the Directory, men who made bowls or dishes of wood. The twenty-four “Spooners” [126] set down in the same record, fashioned spoons. Forks being a modern invention, there are no “Forkers”; but “Cutler” abounds on every side in the metropolis, not to mention the “Cutlers’ Alms-houses,” and the “Cutlers’ Hall.” “Ironmonger” also is well represented. Those who manufactured crocks—that is, any glazed vessel of earthenware (whence our modern term “crockery”)—were called “Crockers,” or “Crokers.” There are over thirty Crockers in the Directory, and six Crokers. A hundred “Potters” figure in the same list.
Some reader may inquire, “Have we any relics of the medical practitioner in the Directory? Was there any one who was professionally employed to see children through the measles, to extract an obnoxious tooth, to lay a plaister, to open a vein, to mix a potion, or to generally repair a debilitated system?” The London Directory replies unhesitatingly in the affirmative; and yet look out Doctor, or Surgeon, or Physician, and all are conspicuous by their absence: although, to do the last justice, he has bequeathed us four Physicks. The reason of this is simple. These are new terms. The old practitioner went generally by the name of “Leech.” There are forty-seven Leaches, one Leachman, and eleven Leeches in the Directory. Bleeding with leeches was evidently no unfamiliar spectacle in old days, especially when we recall that our forefathers were wont to be very energetic with the knife and fork—or spoon, I should say, for they had no forks. “Chemist,” too, is a new sobriquet,—therefore he is unrepresented; but there is one “Pothecary,” and Potticary is fairly common in other parts of England. As for the Barber, the surgeon and dentist of former times, no wonder there is a whole column of his descendants. His custom was to hang a basin at the end of his pole, with a string of teeth, the longer the better, to show what a roaring trade he drove,—for he could not advertise his business in the newspaper as people do in these remarkable days. In the window were ranged cups or goblets with a few leeches in. These