One of the earliest ways of forming a surname of the nickname class was to compound with the baptismal name an adjective of size, age, relationship, or condition. We are all familiar with such a name as Little-john, which may well stand as a typical illustration, for I see in my London Directory nine instances occur. The father of the original bearer was doubtless John, and the son being baptized by the same agnomen, the neighbours would readily get into the way of styling him Little John. The grandson would accept this as his surname, and thus the sobriquet would become a permanency. These compounds of John are not uncommon, for that was the commonest baptismal name in those days, save William. Thus we have Mickle-john, i.e. big John; Brown-john; Hob-john, i.e. clownish John; and Young-john, an instance of which I saw in Kidderminster not long ago. By means of French importation, or through our Norman forefathers, we have also Pru-jean, Gros-jean, and Petit-jean. Proper-john, though not in the London Directory, is very common in some parts of the country, and implied that the original bearer was a well-formed, shapely youth. This old use of the term is preserved in our Authorized Version, where St. Paul is made to speak of Moses as “a proper child.” Our Properjohns need not be ashamed of their designation. Speaking of Youngjohn, I may state that in one of our Yorkshire local directories may be seen John Berry, and immediately below Young John Berry. Doubtless the son was baptized “Young John,” to distinguish him from his father; and thus an old custom was but restored in a more formal manner at the font. As Young John Berry has now grown to man’s estate, as is proved by the fact that he occupies a place of his own in the aforementioned directory, we may, perhaps, some day see in a future issue of that same public register, “Still Younger John Berry” as the title of the representative of the third generation! The most interesting name in its associations, however, is that of Bon-jean or Bon-john, i.e. Good John, corrupted into Bunyan. So early as the year 1310 there dwelt in London a householder of the name of Jon Bonjon. My readers will deem it, I doubt not, a happy coincidence that when we speak of the author of the immortal “Pilgrim’s Progress” as “Good John Bunyan,” we are simply saying twice over “Good John”: once in English, and once in French. Probably the ancestor of the dreamer of Bedford was a Norman tradesman, who had come over to London to better himself.
Speaking of these Norman-French names ending in Jean, such as Gros-Jean, Petit-Jean, or Bon-Jean, we are reminded that this mode of forming surnames was much more common in France than in England. A single glance at the Paris Directory will amply demonstrate this. We find Grand-jean (Big-John), Grand-perret and Grand-pierre (Big-Peter), Grand-collet (Big-Nicholas), and Grand-Guillot (Big-William). Of an opposite character we light upon Petit-collin (Little Nicholas), Petit-guillaume (Little-William), Petit-perrin and Petit-pierre (Little-Peter), and Petit-jeannin, corresponding to our English Little-john already alluded to. These instances, which might be amplified to any extent, will suffice to prove that nicknames of this class are far more prevalent with our French neighbours than ourselves.
But while such qualificatory terms as “good,” “long,” “young,” and “proper,” were freely applied to baptismal names, they were not limited to such. Long-skinner used to exist as a surname, also Young-smith and Good-groom. One of our most aristocratic names is Beau-clerk; and its opposite, Mau-clerk, once familiar enough to our ears, still exists in the corrupted form of Manclerk. Talking, however, of ears, the name that sounds most curious upon the modern tympanum is that of Good-Knave. This is no corruption, and meant exactly what it seems to mean—that the original bearer was a good honest knave! But then, as many of my readers are aware, there was a time when a knave was nothing more than a servant or page. Shakespear speaks of one who is but
“Fortune’s knave,
A minister of her will.”
Young-husband, of which there are four representatives in our London Directory, is a very familiar instance of this class, although husband had no doubt a much wider significance in the day that the surname arose. Goodfellow is also well known; and, above all, one of our American cousins has made Longfellow famous to all time. If you come to analyse the name of the author of “Evangeline,” it has not a very attractive origin. The earliest instances I can find are in our Yorkshire records, and there it is set down Long-fellay. Even now in Lancashire and Yorkshire a fellow is always a “felley.” I wonder if Henry Longfellow ever heard of Thomas Longfellow, landlord of the Golden Lion Inn at Brecon, who must have made a somewhat long face when he saw the following lines inscribed upon a panel of his coffee-room:—
“Tom Longfellow’s name is most justly his due:
Long his neck, long his bill, which is very long, too;
Long the time ere your horse to the stable is led;
Long before he’s rubbed down, and much longer till fed;
Long indeed may you sit in a comfortless room
Till from kitchen long dirty your dinner shall come;
Long the oft-told tale that your host will relate;
Long his face while complaining how long people eat;
Long may Longfellow long ere he see me again:
Long ’twill be ere I long for Tom Longfellow’s Inn.”
The well-known publishers, Messrs. Longman, represent, of course, but another form of the same name. Indeed, as will be seen at a glance, this class could be extended indefinitely; so indefinitely that, were I to set all the instances down one by one, I should have to write a big book instead of a small one. This is exactly what the Editor does not desire; for which reason—not to hint that the reader might be weary—I withhold my hand: and indeed it is time.
Hazell, Watson, and Viney, Printers, London and Aylesbury.