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“How now, Tib? quick! let’s hear what news thou hast brought hither.” – Act. i. sc. 5.

In “Ralph Roister Doister,” the pet name is used in the song, evidently older than the play:

 
“Pipe, merry Annot, etc.,
Trilla, Trilla, Trillary.
Work, Tibet; work, Annot; work, Margery;
Sew, Tibet; knit, Annot; spin, Margery;
Let us see who will win the victory.”
 

Gib, from Gilbert, and Tib became the common name for a male and female cat. Scarcely any other terms were employed from 1350 to 1550:

 
“For right no more than Gibbe, our cat,
That awaiteth mice and rattes to killen,
Ne entend I but to beguilen.”
 

Hence both Tibet and Gibbet were also used for the same; as in the old phrase “flitter-gibbett,” for one of wanton character. Tom in tom-cat came into ordinary parlance later. All our modern Tibbots, Tibbetts, Tibbitts, Tippitts, Tebbutts, and their endless other forms, are descended from Tibbe.

Coming to boys’ names, all our Wyatts in the Directory hail from Guiot,¹⁰ the diminutive of Guy, just as Wilmot from William:

“Adam, son of Wyot, held an oxgang of land.” – “De Lacy Inquisition.”

“Ibbote Wylymot, iiiid.” – W. D. S.

Payn is met in the form of Paynot and Paynet, Warin as Warinot, Drew as Drewet, Philip as Philpot, though this is feminine sometimes:

“Johannes Schikyn, et Philipot uxor ejus, iiiid.” – W. D. S.

Thomas is found as Thomaset, Higg (Isaac) as Higgot, Jack as Jackett, Hal (Henry) as Hallet (Harriot or Harriet is now feminine), and Hugh or Hew as Hewet:

“Dionisia Howet-doghter, iiiid.” – W. D. S.

The most interesting, perhaps, of these examples is Hamnet, or Hamlet. Hamon, or Hamond, was introduced from Normandy:

“Hamme, son of Adcock, held 29 acres of land.” – “De Lacy Inquisition,” 1311.

It became a favourite among high and low, and took to itself the forms of Hamonet and Hamelot:

“The wife of Richard, son of Hamelot.” – “De Lacy Inquisition,” 1311.

These were quickly abbreviated into Hamnet and Hamlet. They ran side by side for several centuries, and at last, like Emmot, defied the English Bible, the Reformation, and even the Puritan period, and lived unto the eighteenth century. Hamlet Winstanley, the painter, was born in 1700, at Warrington, and died in 1756. In Kent’s London Directory for 1736 several Hamnets occur as baptismal names. Shakespeare’s little son was Hamnet, or Hamlet, after his godfather Hamnet Sadler. I find several instances where both forms are entered as the name of the same boy:

“Nov. 13, 1502. Item: the same day to Hamlet Clegge, for money by him layed out … to the keper of Dachet Ferrey in rewarde for conveying the Quenes grace over Thamys there, iiis. iiiid.”

Compare this with —

“June 13, 1502. Item: the same day to Hampnet Clegge, for mone by him delivered to the Quene for hir offring to Saint Edward at Westm., vis. viiid.” – “Privy Purse Expenses, Eliz. of York,” pp. 21 and 62.

Speaking of Hamelot, we must not forget that ot and et sometimes became elot or elet. As a diminutive it is found in such dictionary words as bracelet, tartlet, gimblet, poplet (for poppet). The old ruff or high collar worn alike by men and women was styled a partlet:

“Jan. 1544. Item: from Mr. Braye ii. high collar partletts, iiis. ixd.” – “Privy Purse Expenses, Princess Mary.”

Hence partlet, a hen, on account of the ruffled feathers, a term used alike by Chaucer and Shakespeare.

In our nomenclature we have but few traces of it. In France it was very commonly used. But Hughelot or Huelot, from Hugh, was popular, as our Hewletts can testify. Richelot for Richard, Hobelot and Robelot for Robert, Crestolot for Christopher, Cesselot for Cecilia, and Barbelot for Barbara, are found also, and prove that the desinence had made its mark.

Returning, however, to ot and et: Eliot or Elliot, from Ellis (Elias), had a great run. In the north it is sometimes found as Aliot:

“Alyott de Symondeston held half an oxgang of land, xixd.” – “De Lacy Inquisition,” 1311.

The feminine form was Elisot or Elicot, although this was used also for boys. The will of William de Aldeburgh, written in 1319, runs —

“Item: do et lego Elisotæ domicellæ meæ 40s.” – “Test. Ebor.,” i. 151.

The will of Patrick de Barton, administered in the same year, says —

“Item: lego Elisotæ, uxori Ricardi Bustard unam vaccam, et 10s.” – “Test. Ebor.,” i. 155.

“Eliseus Carpenter, cartwyth, et Elesot uxor ejus, vid.” – W. D. S.

As Ellis became Ellisot, so Ellice became Ellicot, whence the present surname. Bartholomew became Bartelot, now Bartlett, and from the pet form Toll, or Tolly, came Tollett and Tollitt.

It is curious to notice why Emmot and Hamlet, or Hamnet, survived the crises that overwhelmed the others. Both became baptismal names in their own right. People forgot in course of time that they were diminutives of Emma and Hamond, and separated them from their parents. This did not come about till the close of Elizabeth’s reign, so they have still the credit of having won a victory against terrible odds, the Hebrew army. Hamnet Shakespeare was so baptized. Hamon or Hamond would have been the regular form.

Looking back, it is hard to realize that a custom equally affected by prince and peasant, as popular in country as town, as familiar in Yorkshire and Lancashire as in London and Winchester, should have been so completely uprooted, that ninety-nine out of the hundred are now unaware that it ever existed. This was unmistakably the result of some disturbing element of English social life. At the commencement of the sixteenth century there was no appearance of this confusion. In France the practice went on without let or hindrance. We can again but attribute it to the Reformation, and the English Bible, which swept away a large batch of the old names, and pronounced the new without addition or diminution. When some of the old names were restored, it was too late to fall back upon the familiarities that had been taken with them in the earlier period.

(e.) Double Terminatives

In spite of the enormous popularity in England of ot and et, they bear no proportion to the number in France. In England our local surnames are two-fifths of the whole. In France patronymic surnames are almost two-fifths of the whole. Terminatives in on or in, and ot and et, have done this. We in England only adopted double diminutives in two cases, those of Colinet and Robinet, or Dobinet, and both were rarely used. Robinet has come down to us as a surname; and Dobinet so existed till the middle of the fifteenth century, for one John Dobynette is mentioned in an inventory of goods, 1463 (Mun. Acad. Oxon.). This Dobinet seems to have been somewhat familiarly used, for Dobinet Doughty is Ralph’s servant in “Ralph Roister Doister.” Matthew Merrygreek says —

 
“I know where she is: Dobinet hath wrought some wile.
Tibet Talkapace. He brought a ring and token, which he said was sent
From our dame’s husband.” – Act. iii. sc. 2.
 

Colin is turned into Colinet in Spenser’s “Shepherd’s Calendar,” where Colin beseeches Pan:

 
“Hearken awhile from thy green cabinet,
The laurel song of careful Colinet?”
 

Jannet is found as Janniting (Jannetin) once on English soil, for in the “London Chanticleers,” a comedy written about 1636, Janniting is the apple-wench. Welcome says —

“Who are they which they’re enamoured so with?

Bung. The one’s Nancy Curds, and the other Hanna Jenniting: Ditty and Jenniting are agreed already … the wedding will be kept at our house.” – Scene xiii.

But the use of double diminutives was of every-day practice in Normandy and France, and increased their total greatly. I take at random the following surnames (originally, of course, christian names) from the Paris Directory: – Margotin, Marioton, Lambinet (Lambert), Perrinot, Perrotin, Philiponet, Jannotin, Hugonet, Huguenin, Jacquinot, and Fauconnet (English Fulke). Huguenin (little wee Hugh) repeats the same diminutive; Perrinot and Perrotin (little wee Peter) simply reverse the order of the two diminutives. The “marionettes” in the puppet-show take the same liberty with Mariotin (little wee Mary) above mentioned. Hugonet, of course, is the same as Huguenot; and had English, not to say French, writers remembered this old custom, they would have found no difficulty in reducing the origin of the religious sect of that name to an individual as a starting-point. Guillotin (little wee William) belongs to the same class, and descended from a baptismal name to become the surname of the famous doctor who invented the deadly machine that bears his title. I have discovered one instance of this as a baptismal name, viz. Gillotyne Hansake (“Wars of English in France: Henry VI.,” vol. ii. p. 531).

Returning to England, we find these pet forms in use well up to the Reformation:

“Nov., 1543. Item: geven to Fylpot, my Lady of Suffolk’s lackaye, viis. vid.

“June, 1537. Item: payed to Typkyn for cherys, xxd.” – “Privy Purse Expenses, Princess Mary.”

“1548, July 22. Alson, d. of Jenkin Rowse.” – St. Columb Major.

“1545, Oct. 3. Baptized Alison, d. of John James.” – Ditto.¹¹

“Ralph Roister Doister,” written not earlier than 1545, and not later than 1550, by Nicholas Udall, contains three characters styled Annot Alyface, Tibet Talkapace, and Dobinet Doughty. Christian Custance, Sim Suresby, Madge Mumblecheek, and Gawyn Goodluck are other characters, all well-known contemporary names.

In “Thersites,” an interlude written in 1537, there is mention of

 
“Simkin Sydnam, Sumnor,
That killed a cat at Cumnor.”
 

Jenkin Jacon is introduced, also Robin Rover. In a book entitled “Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic” (Henry VIII.), we find a document (numbered 1939, and dated 1526) containing a list of the household attendants and retinue of the king. Even here, although so formal a record, there occurs the name of “Hamynet Harrington, gentleman usher.”

We may assert with the utmost certainty that, on the eve of the Hebrew invasion, there was not a baptismal name in England of average popularity that had not attached to it in daily converse one or other of these diminutives —kin, cock, in, on, ot, and et; not a name, too, that, before it had thus attached them, had not been shorn of all its fulness, and curtailed to a monosyllabic nick form. Bartholomew must first become Bat before it becomes Batcock, Peter must become Pierre before Perrot can be formed, Nicholas must be abbreviated to Col or Cole before Col or Cole can be styled Colin, and Thomas must be reduced to Tom before Tomkin can make his appearance.

Several names had attached to themselves all these enclytics. For instance, Peter is met with, up to the crisis we are about to consider, in the several shapes of Perkin or Parkin, Peacock, Perrot, and Perrin; and William as Willin (now Willing and Willan in our directories), Wilcock, Wilkin, and Wilmot, was familiar to every district in the country.

III. Scripture Names already in use at the Reformation

It now remains simply to consider the state of nomenclature in England at the eve of the Reformation in relation to the Bible. Four classes may be mentioned.

(a.) Mystery Names

The leading incidents of Bible narrative were familiarized to the English lower orders by the performance of sacred plays, or mysteries, rendered under the supervision of the Church. To these plays we owe the early popularity of Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Sara, Daniel, Sampson, Susanna, Judith, Hanna or Anna, and Hester. But the Apocryphal names were not frequently used till about 1500. Scarcely any diminutives are found of them. On the other hand, Adam became Adcock and Adkin; Eve, Evott and Evett; Isaac, Hickin, and Higgin, and Higgot, and Higget; Joseph, Joskin; and Daniel, Dankin and Dannet.

(b.) Crusade Names

The Crusaders gave us several prominent names. To them we are indebted for Baptist, Ellis, and Jordan: and John received a great stimulus. The sacred water brought in the leathern bottle was used for baptismal purposes. The Jordan commemorated John the Baptist, the second Elias, the forerunner and baptizer of Jesus Christ. Children were styled by these incidents. Jordan became popular through Western Europe. In England he gave us, as already observed, Judd, Judkin, Judson, Jordan, and Jordanson. Elias, as Ellis, took about the eighth place of frequency, and John, for a while, the first.

(c.) The Saints’ Calendar

The legends of the saints were carefully taught by the priesthood, and the day as religiously observed. All children born on these holy days received the name of the saint commemorated: St. James’s Day, or St. Nicholas’s Day, or St. Thomas’s Day, saw a small batch of Jameses, Nicholases, and Thomases received into the fold of the Church. In other cases the gossip had some favourite saint, and placed the child under his or her protection. Of course, it bore the patron’s name. A large number of these hagiological names were extra-Biblical – such as Cecilia, Catharine, or Theobald. Of these I make no mention here. All the Apostles, save Judas, became household names, John, Simon, Peter, Bartholomew, Matthew, James, Thomas, and Philip being the favourites. Paul and Timothy were also utilized, the former being always found as Pol.

(d.) Festival Names

If a child was born at Whitsuntide or Easter, Christmas or Epiphany, like Robinson Crusoe’s man Friday, or Thursday October Christian of the Pitcairn islanders, he received the name of the day. Hence our once familiar names of Noel or Nowell, Pask or Pascal, Easter, Pentecost, and Epiphany or Tiffany.

It will be observed that all these imply no direct or personal acquaintance with the Scriptures. All came through the Church. All, too, were in the full tide of prosperity – with the single exception of Jordan, which was nearly obsolete – when the Bible, printed into English and set up in our churches, became an institution. The immediate result was that the old Scripture names of Bartholomew, Peter, Philip, and Nicholas received a blow much deadlier than that received by such Teutonic names as Robert, Richard, Roger, and Ralph. But that will be brought out as we progress.

The subject of the influence of an English Bible upon English nomenclature is not uninteresting. It may be said of the “Vulgar Tongue” Bible that it revolutionized our nomenclature within the space of forty years, or little over a generation. No such crisis, surely, ever visited a nation’s register before, nor can such possibly happen again. Every home felt the effect. It was like the massacre of the innocents in Egyptian days: “There was not one house where there was not one dead.” But in Pharoah’s day they did not replace the dead with the living. At the Reformation such a locust army of new names burst upon the land that we may well style it the Hebrew Invasion.

CHAPTER I.
THE HEBREW INVASION

“With what face can they object to the king the bringing in of forraigners, when themselves entertaine such an army of Hebrewes?” The Character of a London Diurnall (Dec. 1644).

“Albeit in our late Reformation some of good consideration have brought in Zachary, Malachy, Josias, etc., as better agreeing with our faith, but without contempt of Country names (as I hope) which have both good and gracious significations, as shall appeare hereafter.” – Camden, Remaines. 1614.

I. The March of the Army

The strongest impress of the English Reformation to-day is to be seen in our font-names. The majority date from 1560, the year when the Genevan Bible was published. This version ran through unnumbered editions, and for sixty, if not seventy, years was the household Bible of the nation. The Genevan Bible was not only written in the vulgar tongue, but was printed for vulgar hands. A moderate quarto was its size; all preceding versions, such as Coverdale’s, Matthew’s, and of course the Great Bible, being the ponderous folio, specimens of which the reader will at some time or other have seen. The Genevan Bible, too, was the Puritan’s Bible, and was none the less admired by him on account of its Calvinistic annotations.

But although the rage for Bible names dates from the decade 1560-1570, which decade marks the rise of Puritanism, there had been symptoms of the coming revolution as early as 1543. Richard Hilles, one of the Reformers, despatching a letter from Strasburg, November 15, 1543, writes:

“My wife says she has no doubt but that God helped her the sooner in her confinement by reason of your good prayers. On the second of this month she brought forth to the Church of Christ a son, who, as the women say, is quite large enough for a mother of tall stature, and whom I immediately named Gershom.” – “Original Letters,” 1537-1558, No. cxii. Parker Society.

We take up our Bibles, and find that of Zipporah it is said —

“And she bare him (Moses) a son, and he called his name Gershom: for he said, I have been a stranger in a strange land.” – Exod. ii. 22.

The margin says, “a desolate stranger.” At this time Moses was fled from Pharaoh, who would kill him. The parallel to Richard Hilles’s mind was complete. This was in 1643.¹²

In Mr. Tennyson’s drama “Mary,” we have the following scene between Gardiner and a yokel:

 
“Gardiner.I distrust thee,
There is a half voice, and a lean assent:
What is thy name?
Man. Sanders!
Gardiner. What else?
Man. Zerrubabel.”
 

The Laureate was right to select for this rebellious Protestant a name that was to be popular throughout Elizabeth’s reign; but poetic license runs rather far in giving this title to a full-grown man in any year of Mary’s rule. Sanders might have had a young child at home so styled, but for himself it was practically impossible. So clearly defined is the epoch that saw, if not one batch of names go out, at least a new batch come in. Equally marked are the names from the Bible which at this date were in use, and those which were not. Of this latter category Zerrubabel was one.

In the single quotation from Hilles’s letter of 1543 we see the origin of the great Hebrew invasion explained. The English Bible had become a fact, and the knowledge of its personages and narratives was becoming directly acquired. In every community up and down the country it was as if a fresh spring of clear water had been found, and every neighbour could come with jug or pail, and fill it when and how they would. One of the first impressions made seems to have been this: children in the olden time received as a name a term that was immediately significant of the circumstances of their birth. Often God personally, through His prophets or angelic messenger, acted as godparent indeed, and gave the name, as in Isaiah viii. 1, 3, 4:

“Moreover the Lord said unto me, Take thee a great roll, and write in it with a man’s pen concerning Maher-shalal-hash-baz.

“And I went unto the prophetess; and she conceived, and bare a son. Then said the Lord to me, Call his name Maher-shalal-hash-baz.

“For before the child shall have knowledge to cry, My father, and my mother, the riches of Damascus and the spoil of Samaria shall be taken away before the king of Assyria.”

Here was a name palpably significant. Even before they knew its exact meaning the name was enrolled in English church registers, and by-and-by zealot Puritans employed it as applicable to English Church politics.

All the patriarchs, down to the twelve sons of Jacob, had names of direct significance given them. Above all, a peculiar emphasis was laid upon all the titles of Jesus Christ, as in Isaiah vii. 14:

“Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.”

At the same time that this new revelation came, a crisis was going on of religion. The old Romish Church was being uprooted, or, rather, a new system was being grafted upon its stock, for the links have never been broken. The saints were shortly to be tabooed by the large mass of English folk; the festivals were already at a discount. Simultaneously with the prejudice against the very names of their saints and saintly festivals, arose the discovery of a mine of new names as novel as it was unexhaustible. They not merely met the new religious instinct, but supplied what would have been a very serious vacuum.

But we must at once draw a line between the Reformation and Puritanism. Previous to the Reformation, so far as the Church was concerned, there had been to a certain extent a system of nomenclature. The Reformation abrogated that system, but did not intentionally adopt a new one. Puritanism deliberately supplied a well-weighed and revised scheme, beyond which no adopted child of God must dare to trespass. Previous to the Reformation, the priest, with the assent of the gossip, gave the babe the name of the saint who was to be its patron, or on whose day the birth or baptism occurred. If the saint was a male, and the infant a female, the difficulty was overcome by giving the name a feminine form. Thus Theobald become Theobalda; and hence Tib and Tibot became so common among girls, that finally they ceased to represent boys at all. If it were one of the great holy days, the day or season itself furnished the name. Thus it was Simon, or Nicholas, or Cecilia, or Austen, or Pentecost, or Ursula, or Dorothy, became so familiar. From the reign of Elizabeth the clergy, and Englishmen generally, gave up this practice. Saints who could not boast apostolic honours were rejected, and holy men of lesser prestige, together with a large batch of virgins and martyrs of the Agnes, Catharine, and Ursula type, who belonged to Church history, received but scant attention. As a matter of course their names lapsed. But the nation stood by the old English names not thus popishly tainted. Against Geoffrey, Richard, Robert, and William, they had no prejudice: nay, they clung to them. The Puritan rejected both classes. He was ever trotting out his two big “P’s,” – Pagan and Popish. Under the first he placed every name that could not be found in the Scriptures, and under the latter every title in the same Scriptures, and the Church system founded on them, that had been employed previous, say, to the coronation day of Edward VI. Of this there is the clearest proof. In a “Directory of Church Government,” found among the papers of Cartwright, and written as early as 1565, there is the following order regarding and regulating baptism: —

“They which present unto baptism, ought to be persuaded not to give those that are baptized the names of God, or of Christ, or of angels, or of holy offices, as of baptist, evangelist, etc., nor such as savour of paganism or popery: but chiefly such whereof there are examples, in the Holy Scriptures, in the names of those who are reported in them to have been godly and virtuous.” – Neale, vol. v. Appendix, p. 15.

Nothing can be more precise than this. To the strict Puritan to reject the Richards, Mileses, and Henrys of the Teutonic, and the Bartholomews, Simons, Peters, and Nicholases of the ecclesiastic class, was to remove the Canaanite out of the land.

How early this “article of religion” was obeyed, one or two quotations will show. Take the first four baptismal entries in the Canterbury Cathedral register:

“1564, Dec. 3. Abdias, the sonne of Robert Pownoll.

“1567, April 26. Barnabas, the sonne of Robert Pownoll.

“1569, June 1. Ezeckiell, the sonne of Robert Pownoll.

“1572, Feb. 10. Posthumus, the sonne of Robert Pownoll.”

Another son seems to have been Philemon:

“1623, April 27. John, the sonne of Philemon Pownoll.”

A daughter “Repentance” must be added:

“1583, Dec. 8. Married William Arnolde and Repentance Pownoll.”

Take another instance, a little later, from the baptisms of St. Peter’s, Cornhill:

“1589, Nov. 2. Bezaleell, sonne of Michaell Nichollson, cordwayner.

“1599, Sep. 23. Aholiab, sonne of Michaell Nicholson, cordwainer.

“1595, May 18. Sara, daughter of Michaell Nichollson, cobler.

“1599, Nov. 1. Buried Rebecca, daughter of Michaell Nicholson, cordwainer, 13 yeares.”

Rebecca, therefore, would be baptized in 1586. Sara and Aholiab died of the plague in 1603. Both old Robert Pownoll and the cobler must have been Puritans of a pronounced type.

The Presbyterian clergy were careful to set an example of right name-giving:

“1613, July 28. Baptized Jaell, daughter of Roger Mainwaring, preacher.” – St. Helen, Bishopsgate.

“1617, Jan. 25. Baptized Ezekyell, sonne of Mr. Richard Culverwell, minister.” – St. Peter, Cornhill.

“1582, – . Buried Zachary, sonne of Thomas Newton, minister.” – Barking, Essex.

A still more interesting proof comes from Northampton. As an example of bigotry it is truly marvellous. On July 16, 1590, Archbishop Whitgift furnished the Lord Treasurer with the following, amongst many articles against Edmond Snape, curate of St. Peter’s, in that town:

“Item: Christopher Hodgekinson obteyned a promise of the said Snape that he would baptize his child; but Snape added, saying, ‘You must then give it a christian name allowed in the Scriptures.’ Then Hodgekinson told him that his wife’s father, whose name was Richard, desired to have the giving of that name.”

At the time of service Snape proceeded till they came to the place of naming: they said “Richard;”

“But hearing them calling it Richard, and that they would not give it any other name, he stayed there, and would not in any case baptize the child. And so it was carried away thence, and was baptized the week following at Allhallows Churche, and called Richard.” – Strype’s “Whitgift,” ii. 9.

This may be an extreme case, but I doubt not the majority of the Presbyterian clergy did their best to uproot the old English names, so far as their power of persuasion could go.

Even the pulpit was used in behalf of the new doctrine. William Jenkin, the afterwards ejected minister, in his “Expositions of Jude,” delivered in Christ Church, London, said, while commenting on the first verse, “Our baptismal names ought to be such as may prove remembrances of duty.” He then instances Leah, Alpheus, and Hannah as aware of parental obligations in this respect, and adds —

“’Tis good to impose such names as expresse our baptismal promise. A good name is as a thread tyed about the finger, to make us mindful of the errand we came into the world to do for our Master.” – Edition 1652, p. 7.

As a general rule, the New Testament names spread the most rapidly, especially girl-names of the Priscilla, Dorcas, Tabitha, and Martha type. They were the property of the Reformation. Damaris bothered the clerks much, and is found indifferently as Tamaris, Damris, Dammeris, Dampris, and Dameris. By James I.’s day it had become a fashionable name:

“1617, April 13. Christened Damaris, d. of Doctor Masters.

“ – , May 29. Christened Damaris, d. of Doctor Kingsley.” – Canterbury Cathedral.

Martha, which sprang into instant popularity, is registered at the outset:

“1563, July 25. Christened Martha Wattam.” – St. Peter, Cornhill.

Phebe had a great run. The first I have seen is —

“1568, Oct. 24. Christened Phebe, d. of Harry Cut.” – St. Peter, Cornhill.

Dorcas was, perhaps, the prime favourite, often styled and entered Darcas. Every register has it, and every page. A political ballad says —

 
“Come, Dorcas and Cloe,
With Lois and Zoe,
Young Lettice, and Beterice, and Jane;
Phill, Dorothy, Maud,
Come troop it abroad,
For now is our time to reign.”
 

Persis, Tryphena, and Tryphosa were also largely used. The earliest Persis I know is —

“1579, Maye 3. Christened Persis, d. of William Hopkinson, minister heare.” – Salehurst.

Some of these names – as, for instance, Priscilla, Damaris, Dorcas, and Phebe – stood in James’s reign almost at the head of girls’ names in England. Indeed, alike in London and the provinces, the list of girl-names at Elizabeth’s death was a perfect contrast to that when she ascended the throne. Then the great national names of Isabella, Matilda, Emma, and Cecilia ruled supreme. Then the four heroines Anna, Judith, Susan, and Hester, one or two of whom were in the Apocryphal narrative, had stamped themselves on our registers in what appeared indelible lines, although they were of much more recent popularity than the others. They lost prestige, but did not die out. Many Puritans had a sneaking fondness for them, finding in their histories a parallel to their own troubles, and perchance they had a private and more godly rendering of the popular ballad of their day:

 
“In Ninivie old Toby dwelt,
An aged man, and blind was he:
And much affliction he had felt,
Which brought him unto poverty:
He had by Anna, his true wife,
One only sonne, and eke no more.”
 

Esther¹³ is still popular in our villages, so is Susan. Hannah has her admirers, and only Judith may be said to be forgotten. But their glory was from 1450 to 1550. After that they became secondary personages. Throughout the south of England, especially in the counties that surrounded London, the Bible had been ransacked from nook to corner. The zealots early dived into the innermost recesses of Scripture. They made themselves as familiar with chapters devoted solely to genealogical tables, as to those which they quoted to defend their doctrinal creed. The eighth chapter of Romans was not more studied by them than the thirty-sixth of Genesis, and the dukes of Edom classified in the one were laid under frequent contribution to witness to the adoption treated of in the other. Thus names unheard of in 1558 were “household words” in 1603.

The slowest to take up the new custom were the northern counties. They were out of the current; and Lancashire, besides being inaccessible, had stuck to the old faith. Names lingered on in the Palatinate that had been dead nearly a hundred years in the south. Gawin figures in all northern registers till a century ago, and Thurston¹⁴ was yet popular in the Fylde district, when it had become forgotten in the Fens. Scotland was never touched at all. The General Assembly of 1645 makes no hint on the subject, although it dwelt on nearly every other topic. Nothing demonstrates the clannish feeling of North Britain as this does. At this moment Scotland has scarcely any Bible names.

In Yorkshire, however, Puritanism made early stand, though its effects on nomenclature were not immediately visible. It was like the fire that smoulders among the underwood before it catches flame; it spreads the more rapidly afterwards. The Genevan Bible crept into the dales and farmsteads, and their own primitive life seemed to be but reflected in its pages. The patriarchs lived as graziers, and so did they. There was a good deal about sheep and kine in its chapters, and their own lives were spent among the milk-pails and wool shears. The women of the Old Testament baked cakes, and knew what good butter was. So did the dales’ folk. By slow degrees Cecilia, Isabella, and Emma lapsed from their pedestal, and the little babes were turned into Sarahs, Rebeccas, and Deborahs. As the seventeenth century progressed the state of things became still more changed. There had been villages in Sussex and Kent previous to Elizabeth’s death, where the Presbyterian rector, by his personal influence at the time of baptism, had turned the new generation into a Hebrew colony. The same thing occurred in Yorkshire only half a century later. As nonconformity gained ground, Guy, and Miles, and Peter, and Philip became forgotten. The lads were no sooner ushered into existence than they were transformed into duplicates of Joel, and Amos, and Obediah. The measles still ran through the family, but it was Phineas and Caleb, not Robert and Roger, that underwent the infliction. Chosen leaders of Israel passed through the critical stages of teething. As for the twelve sons of Jacob, they could all have answered to their names in the dames’ schools, through their little apple-cheeked representatives, who lined the rude benches. On the village green, every prophet from Isaiah to Malachi might be seen of an evening playing leap-frog: unless, indeed, Zephaniah was stealing apples in the garth.