We have Heads (often local) and Tates many; indeed, they are truly tête-à-tête in the Directory, for of the latter no less than eleven are in immediate proximity. We have Silverlock, Whitelock, or Whitlock, Blacklock, and the remains of an old fashion common to mediæval beaux in Lovelock. Redhead, and Whitehead, and Hoar or Hoare, and White and Brown, and Rouse, and Sangwine, and Black, and Blund or Blunt, are an innumerable force. Beard and Blackbeard are to the fore still, though Brownbeard is gone, and probably Bluebeard never was there. The Directory can show its Cheek, like any other fellow of forward disposition, and Joule is not far off. And although it has no Mouth, it possesses at least one Gumm, one Tooth, and two Tongues. “Tooth,” by the way, has been refusing some ecclesiastic dentistry lately; but it will need a good deal of tugging to get him out of the Directory. There is no Gumboil, I am glad to say, at present, but he may make his appearance any day, as he is known in other parts of England. There are eleven Notts to be seen, and two Notmans, whose progenitors were remarkable for their shorn heads. A man was said to have a not-head who presented this appearance, and in the old rolls was set down as Peter le Not, or William le Not. So although Must, and Cant, and Shall, and Will, look as if the Directory (they are all in it) had a strong will of its own, we must not argue the matter so far as Nott is concerned.
Looking at man’s extremities the feet, we again find that it is hard to decide whether the termination “foot” is of local or nickname origin. The Directory has all manner of feet: a Brownfoot, a Whitefoot, a Crowfoot, a Barefoot, a Proudfoot, a Lightfoot, and a Harefoot. Lightfoot has just footed it all the way to the episcopal palace of Durham. We may all, in congratulating the learned Professor, pray that by God’s aid he may be a light unto the feet of his clergy, and guide them in true and safe paths. Remembering too, his predecessor, the firm, yet “kindly Baring,” we might concoct an epigram of our own, and say, with many apologies to the coachman for the liberty we take,—
Come, Lightfoot, mount, the ribbons take,
When roads are downward on the brake
Set not thy foot too lightly,
And though the reign of Baring’s o’er,
Hold bearing-rein as tightly.
Or we might put another play on the name:—
Lightfoot has gone to Durham’s see:
If name and mind in him agree,
Of foes he’ll have not any;
For then a lantern he will be
To light the feet of many.
Bishop Baring was so staunch a churchman as to put his foot on Ritualism. Hence a young curate in his diocese said, with more wit than warrant, that the difference betwixt him and his bishop was that he was under Baring, while the other was over-bearing. Speaking of Lightfoot, however, I have heard my father tell of a minister appointed many years ago somewhere in the neighbourhood of Ashton-under-Lyne, whose name was Light. Coming unexpectedly into a room where a prayer-meeting was being held that a good pastor might be sent to them, he heard them singing the two lines well known to most of my readers,—
“Sometimes a Light surprises
The Christian while he sings.”
It is said he was inclined to look upon it as an augury that he had done rightly in accepting the post. Foot we have already said is very common, but there is only one Toe, and, as is but proper, only one Nail. An old epigram says:
“’Twixt Footman Sam and Doctor Toe
A controversy fell,
Which should prevail against his foe
And bear away the belle;
The lady chose the footman’s heart:
Say, who can wonder? No man:
The whole prevailed above the part—
’Twas Footman versus Toe, man.
Rawbones is not a pleasant name, and would be by no means suggestive of agreeable associations to its possessor. Some will recall Praise God Barebones, as he has been wrongly styled, for his name was Barebone, and it was never otherwise called till about a hundred years ago. There is all the difference in the world between Barebone and Barebones, and a good deal of point is lost, therefore, in the elder Disraeli’s remark, “There are some names which are very injurious to the cause in which they are engaged; for instance, the long parliament in Cromwell’s time, called by derision the Rump, was headed by one Barebones, a leather-seller.” The reason of the change is simple enough. That assembly went by the style of Barebone’s parliament, and thus people forgot that the “s” did not belong to the name. The name is found in James’ reign as Barbon, and stripped of the two “e’s” ceases to be ludicrous in any sense whatever.