WHAT OUR SURNAMES MEAN.

Franklin Times, Volume 9, Issue 651, 19 July 1921, Page 5

WHAT OUR SURNAMES MEAN.

(Written Specially for the Times.)

A little bird—not “Ru-ru”—has told me that some people found a recent article published in these columns quite interesting, which encourages me to write on a subject of infinitely more interest and importance than the meaning of Maori names. Most of our English surnames have a significance derived from the remote past, and a careful study of them reveals curious facts in the ristory of the race that are well worth registering and preserving. Of course there are names that appear to have no meaning, or none that can be discovered, but these are exceptions, for in nearly every case our cognomens are a plain indication of some attribute, or occupation, or dwelling place of some remote ancestors.

To prove my case I have not made any careful selection of surnames of specially interesting extraction, but have merely gone to a single copy of trhe Times and made my choice therefrom,- Comparatively few though the names are they furnish a variety ample for my purpose,! and there is no need to go outside this narrow field. Many of them such as Pearson, Dickson, Johnson, Robinson, explain their origin themselves, while Jerkins, Elkin and Hankin show at a glance that their first bearers were kin to Peter, Elias and Hans. Elias was nearly as popular a name among us in the middle age as John and Hans—a contraction of Johannes — was brought to us by the Flemings, who filled England with traders and manufacturers in late Plantagenet times. They were also known as Easterlings, a reminiscence of which name remains in use among us in the word sterling. During their day English money was a sadly debased currency, and the honest coinage of the Flemings left a good impression that will last as long as the coinage. Such names derived from occupation as Miller, Shepherd, Smith, Wright and Parker are too obvious to require explanation, but those relating to 'obsolete employment can not always be seen at a glance. Thus Webster is a weaver. The web is the fabrie wo’ven. Tennyson uses the word in “The Lady of Shallott”:

“She left the web, she left the loom, She took three paces through the room.”

Webster was the feminine ’ weaver, and Webber the male, as spinster and' spinner were the sex form of the artisans who provided the thread for ■ the weaver to use. The old and honourable profession of falconer or hawker provides u's with the origin of the names of three of those mentioned, Hawkings, Hawkin and Hawke. Chapman is a descendant of chapman or cheapman, who pedalled his wares through the country, doing most of his trading by barter, and who has left us a mem-: ory of him in Cheapside, and “to chop and to change.” Palmer is a pilgrim, a class once common enough. Sbotbolt takes us back to the days of the cross-bowmen, who used a short iron bolt as a missle instead of the yard-long shaft winged with grey goose’s feathers. Shill more interesting are Wake and Lusk, taking us back to the days of the Danes and Saxons. The Wakes or watchmen, were prototypes of the later Wardens of the Marches, and every school boy remembers the last heroic stand of Hereward the Wake againsa the Norman conquerors. A hi.sk was a Danish freebooter or pirate, and the not uncommon occurrence of the name in England and Scotland shows that some of thqse vikings must have been tamed and settled down amongst

Names taken from the colour of some ancestors’ complexion or hair are in evidence. White and Black are there, also Roose and Russell. There does not a first glance seem any special connection between the last two, hut they have a common origin, the reddish brown colour we still occasionally call russet. An ancient name for the fox was russell, as you may seen in Gower’s poem. But is is the names that come from places that are most attractive to trace. Slade means a strip of grass land enclosed by a wood. The ballad of Robin Hood makes use of the word: “It had been better of William a Trent To have been abed with sorrow, Than to be that day in the greenwood slade To meet with Little John’s arrow.” It was usually termed in the literature of the day “greenslade.” Now we call it glade, no doubt a contraction of the double word. Howe, Dunn and Copeland are positive, comparative and superlative, for howe is a small hill, dunn an ordinary hill and cope the summit of a high hill. Yates literally means gates. Chancer tells us that the Patient Criselda,

when she heard the marquis was coming ran “With glad chere to the yates.” Hevworth literally means a place guarded by a hedge. The heye or hawe, which we still preserve in our hawthorn and in General Haig’s name (excuse my mentioning a name out of bounds), means hedge, and worth, or worthy, a guarded place. Thus Goldsworthy means a place where gold is guarded, not, as might be imagined, one who is worthy of gold. ' Cornthwaite is particularly interesting, because it shows the Icelandic influence. To the magnificent -iteratuie of that little island, second only to our own and the Greek, the English language owes much. Thwaite is Icelandic for a woodland clearing before the stumps have been removed. In the early days in Franklin the settlers used frequently to sow wheat on their bush clearings after burning and, no doubt, centuries ago the same pi*actice prevailed in England. All the names beginning or ending with ham refer to a bridge. Oldham and Hamilton occur, and perhaps more if I had time to look for them, but that is enough of names of locality. Yet, stay, there are Cole, which indicates a cabbage garden, and Colbeck,, a cabbage garden by a brook. Olphert is curious, being a corruption of oliphant, which to-day we call elephant. Spencer is one in charge of the spence, the store room in which foodstuffs were kept. The pantry is still called the spence in parts of the north, and we have the echo in dispensary. The names before me are not nearly used up, but I am afraid the editor’s patience may be. However we must not forget Plain Bill, although he is ko far away. Massey is probably from masser, or macer, the drinking bowl so highly prized by our forefathers, which was always carved from the wood of the maple. The last name in the paper is Grainger, literally the dweller in a grange or farm house. yauffwrrmi mini ««■ m iwmwi ■Mnirrmriniwm