Section III.—Brightness.

The root brâj furnished the Greek φλέγεεν, Latin flagrare, and Gothic bairht, the Anglo-Saxon beohrt, or byrht, the Old German percht, and Northern bjart.

It is a component of Frank, German, and Anglo-Saxon nomenclature, but is rarely found in genuine Norsk; the only instance in the Landnama-bok is Biartmar, who is noted as of Irish birth, so may have brought an Anglo-Saxon name.

Bertha, the most obvious of all the progeny of biart, has been treated of in her character as a personification of the bright Epiphany night, mixed up with an old epithet of Frigga and with the spinning Holda. So, in Swabia, these legends have formed a masculine, Berchthold, who has become the wild huntsman in that quarter. Berchtvold was really an English prince of the Heptarchy, and Brichtold is in Domesday. Perahtholt is a veritable Old German name, making the modern Bartold—Niebuhr’s name,—the Italian Bertaldo, and French Bertould. Bertalda is not so likely to be the feminine of this word as to come from Berchthilda, like the name of Bertille, a sainted abbess of Chelles.

It is not easy to discover whether the most popular of all thus commencing should be regarded as a single corrupted name, or the produce of two, of which one has the second syllable hramn, a raven, the other rand, a house. The patron saint of all alike is Bertichramnus, bishop of Mans till 623, and his Latinism leaves no doubt that he was Bright-raven. It was chiefly popular in France, whence we must have obtained it, although there is no instance of it in Domesday, and it was especially glorious in the fourteenth century, for the sake of gallant Constable du Guesclin, ‘the eagle of Brittany,’ whom Spanish chroniclers, by a droll perversion of his appellation, called ‘Mosen Beltran Claquin,’ when he came to fight their battles.

The wolf was sure to accompany the raven; so Perahtolf, or Bertulf, was canonized as an abbot in Artois, and left the German Bertulf, and our own Bardolph, the flaming comrade of Falstaff.

Bertwine, or Bright friend, was the St. Bertin of France, and the Bertuccio of Italy, often found in the old Lombardic towns.

Brihtric was the English earl who so gallantly died in defending England from the Danes in the unhappy days of Ethelred the Unready, and another Brihtric was the unsuccessful suitor of Matilda of Flanders, on whom she wreaked an unworthy vengeance after the Conquest. All the Brihts in Domesday seem to be of Saxon birth, since they use the English instead of the Norman French commencement, which was already Ber, as in the instance of Bertrade de Montfort, Bright speech, the countess of Anjou, who deserted her husband for Philippe I. of France. The remaining forms are—

Bert is one of the most indispensable conclusions among all the German range of names, and is far more common there than as a commencement.

Another word meaning bright, or glittering, is the Northern jar, jor, jer, the German ir. Iring, or Irinc, is a semi-mythological person. Old German tradition declared him to have been the counsellor of Irnvrit of Thuringia, and that when both had been taken by the Franks, he was deceived into slaying his sovereign, after which, in his rage, he killed the victorious Frank, laid him under his master’s body, and then cut his way through the enemy, and returned home.

He appears again in the Nibelungen-noth as the Markgraf Irinch of Tenemarche, or Denmark, in company with Irnvrit of Düringen, i.e. Thuringia: he wounds Hagen, but is slain by him, and lamented over by Kriemhild. His name was sometimes subsequently used, and is, perhaps, what French histories call Harenc.

Jørund is a northern name with a similar prefix, and means a brilliant or glittering man; but it gets called Jøren, and mixed up with Jorgen, or George.^[147]

Section IV.—War.

In Ulfilas' Bible, ‘the multitude of the heavenly host’ is translated ‘Haryis hunniakundis managei.’ In Anglo-Saxon, an army is here, in old German heri, in the North her, all perhaps coming from the ear, and to hear, as having been summoned, like the legion from being chosen. Thence the leader was the English Heretoga, and German Herzog, finally translated into the Latin dux, and becoming political and territorial. The doings of the herr were expressed by various old words, of which the Scottish to harry is the direct descendant. Heerfurst, or army leader, may be the Ariovistus of Cæsar.

The single warrior was har in the North, hari in Germany, and as ar is often found at the end of names. Many German critics translate the word by the army, instead of the warrior; but Professor Munch considers that the warrior, hari, was the original meaning, and that herjar, his plural, afterwards came to mean the army.

The oldest and most famous of all the family is introduced to us by Tacitus as Chariovalda, a Batavian prince. It is the hardened sound of Harivald, Warrior power, or ‘Army wielder,’ a name that the Germans soon called Heriold, and the North Harald. This soon became one of the most renowned northern names. Harald Harfagre, or the fair-haired, was he who vowed never to trim his locks till he was sole king of Norway, and thus sent Thorer the Silent to Iceland, and Rolf-ganger to Normandy. Harald Krake, king of Sleswig, was baptized in the presence of Louis le Debonnaire, and used the already mentioned vow to forsake Thunner, Scaxnot, and all their works. He afterwards introduced St. Anschar to Denmark, but like all the first Christian kings of Scandinavia, was himself expelled from his realm by his subjects. Harald Hardrada, or the resolute, was the very crown of the poetic sea-kings of Norway, meeting with romantic adventures in Constantinople, singing the praises of his Russian bride all across the sea, exchanging gallant messages with his namesake Harold Godwinson at Stamford Bridge, and dying as poetically as he had lived at the foot of his banner Landwaster. It was from the Danes that Harold came to England with the son of Knut, and to the son of Earl Godwin, the usurper, more than half a Dane in blood and temper, who, because he died in battle with the Normans, is regarded by the popular mind as an English patriot, and has in very modern times had a good many namesakes. Harald, or, as the Frisians call it, Herold, is only properly national in Scandinavia and the islands from Iceland to Man.

Next in note is what the Franks called Charibert, when it belonged to the king of Paris, whose daughter brought Christian doctrine to Kent, and prepared the way for St. Augustine. St. Haribert was archbishop of Cologne about the year 1000, and at that time the name became extremely common among the French nobility. A Norman settler had brought it to England even in the time of Edward the Confessor; and one of the many Herberts founded a family in Wales, which, in the time of Henry V., was one of the first to follow the advice to use one patronymic instead of the whole pedigree of names. It is probably owing to the honours in various kinds of the branches of this family that Herbert has of late years become an exceedingly prevalent Christian name in England. Except that the Frisians call it Harber and Hero, and Italy puts an o at the end, it has no variations. Herman is confused with Eormen; and the other forms are—

The warrior names were of the fiercest order. Leid (if it do not mean a road) was the same with the word in modern German, meaning hurt or mischief, and expressed spite or violence. The North had Liedulf, afterw—ards contracted into Leiul, and no doubt the Scottish Lyulf, and German Lethard, Lethild, Laidrad, Laidwald, Laidwig.

In the same spirit we have neid or nöt, meaning violence or compulsion, though it has resulted in the German neid, envy, and our need, want. We have it in the name of St. Neot, the relative and rebuker of King Alfred in his haughty days, and the hero of a legend of little fishes daily renewed for his food. Also Nidhard was a great chronicler of Frank history, and left a name surviving as Nyddert, in Friesland, and cut into Nitz, in Germany. There, too, were Notburg and Notger, Nidbert in France, and in the North, Notulf, afterwards written Notto. The terminal nôt is, however, more common.

Wig or Vig is war itself, and is found in the genealogy of Odin. Wægdæg, or War day, is an ancestor of the Deiran kings.

Vigleîk still subsists in the North, and so does Viglaf, relic of war, the same as that of Wiglaf, the chronicler.

The other forms are—

These are almost all German. The terminations in wig are often owing to German pronunciation of the word veh, or vieh, consecration, and sometimes of the northern veig, liquor.

The strange northern name of Snorre, famous for the sake of that Froissart of the North, Snorre Sturleson, comes from snerra, strife.

Styrke is the strong, the same word as that in which the old chroniclers describe William the Conqueror, as ‘so very stark.’ Sterkulv and a few other forms have been found in the North.

Toke is a very curious old name. It seems to mean the mad or raging, and, growing into Tyke or Tyge in Denmark, was the name that was Latinized into Tycho by the celebrated astronomer Brahe, who did not leave his madness behind him with his name. The famous Jomsburg sea-rover, a sort of northern Lycurgus of the tenth century, was Palnatoke, supposed to be properly Toke, the son of Palne. Palne is an unexplained name used by the Danes, and perhaps borrowed from the Wends; but there are a few other instances of it, among them the Anglicized Earl Pallig, the husband of Sweyn’s sister Gunhild, who was killed by Ethelred the Unready.

Thiostr means hardness or harshness, and was in use in the North as Triostulf, since contracted into Kjostol, Thiostvald, Thiostar; and probably Tostig, the ungracious son of Godwine, who brought Harald Hardrada to invade England, took his name from thence.

Section V.—Protection.

Bar—the word for strength—has been most fertile in produce. Its progeny are far too numerous to describe; but the most notable at present in use are the Berg, the strength of the hills, a mountain, and Burg, a fortress.

The names derived from it are, in combination, the bjorg of the North, in the masculine, meaning protector, and borg, the feminine, meaning, perhaps, protection,—the berge of the Germans and burg of the Anglo-Saxons answering to the same. The Anglo-Saxon ladies also bear names ending with burh, also from the same root, and meaning a pledge, the strength of an engagement, and the origin of our verb, to borrow. Burrhed, king of Mercia, bore this name; but instances of it are not very common.

Birger, Byrger, Birge, are the masculines much used in Scandinavia; and the combinations were Biorgulv, Bergthor, Bergthora, the faithful wife of Njal, and Bergliot, the daughter of Thorer the Silent,—the same name that has been already mentioned as the northern one that has been mixed with the Irish Brighid, and which would mean protecting ugliness. Other forms are Bergswain, protecting youth, Berghild, answering to our Mercian princess Burgenhild, and Borgny, apt to be cut down to Borny.

This is the word to which the Burgundians owed their title, as dwellers in burghs, instead of wanderers on the open plain.

Another large race of names comes from the Gothic warjan, Anglo-Saxon warian,—the ‘ware’ of rustic shouts in England like the ‘gare’ of France, the latter syllable of beware and aware, and the wehrer of Germany. The quality of precaution furnished the North with its favourite terminations var and vara, indicating the possession of the prudent virtue that makes a man wary. It does not begin names, but it often ends them, both in the North and Germany, as Geirvar, Hervar, Amalvara, Hildiwara, &c.

The inhabitant was the natural defender, and in Anglo-Saxon and Norsk ware became synonymous with the dweller, as Cantwara, the defenders of Kent, for the Kentishmen; Burgwara, the burghers; and in the North, Vikvarjar, bay defender. Ware, a defender, is thus a commencement in the German Warimunt, Guarding protection, the Vœrmund of the Mercian genealogy, and Vermund of the North, while its surviving representatives in France are Guiremond and Vermont.

Warenheri, or Protecting-warrior, is the Guarniero of Tasso, the Garnier of France, whence this form came to England as a surname after the Edict of Nantes, whilst Warner had been the legitimate descendant of the native Vœrnhare.

Warand, the German participle name, may have assisted in forming Guérin and Warren, unless there was a Warewine to account for it. Warnfrid or Warno, Werinhold and Warnebold, are also German.

The defender was with us the Weard, guard-warden, and weardian was to ward or guard; as in French garde and garder, in the North vördhr, in Germany wart, warten. This is the favourite termination, the ward of England passing the wart of Germany, the vard of the North; but of rare appearance as a commencement, though there is an instance of a German Wartgar, or guardian-spear.

These are extremely like the words taken from to gird, like gerda, gaard, &c., but they are essentially different: watching is here the idea of safety, as enclosure is there.

The termination mund, so common among all the Teuton nations, has been a very great difficulty. Some regard it as the German mund or munths, a mouth. The fact, however, appears to be that mund means a hand in the elder languages, and from a hand was early transferred to him who used his hand in protection.

All the best authorities agree in translating mund as protection; but as mund, a hand, is a feminine noun, the derivation from this source is a little doubtful, as the only lady’s name thus terminated is Rosamond. It is never a prefix.

Names ending in mund, hand, are often confused with those finishing in mod or muth, meaning courage or wrath, the mood of England and muth of Germany. Even in very early times, Thurismund, or Thurismod, would be indifferently written; but mod is not very common, and is apt to shorten into mo, as Thormod, Tormo.

The Germans used to imagine that all their names ending in hulf meant help; but this pleasant faith was destroyed by the northern wolf, and only one real help name is extant, the Helfrich of modern Germany, and Hialfrek of the North, which own an ancient precedent in the old Frank Hialperik or Chilperic.

The pronunciation of ward runs so naturally into hard, that many names, which when traced to their roots, turn out to terminate with ward, are spelt in German and French as if they were hard. The word hard does, however, really enter into the composition of a few names, chiefly German. There is, however, a semi-mythical northern lady called by the amiable name of Harthgrepa, Firm-grip or Hard-claw; and HartheKnad, or, as we call him, Hardicanute, seems to have had this distinguishing epithet added to his father’s name. The most noted of the other forms was Hardwine, Firm friend, the Hardouin of old French chroniclers, called in Italy Ardoino.

• Harding, firm
• Hartrich, firm king
• Hartwig, firm war
• Hartmund, firm protection
• Hartmod, firm spirit.

The names in rand have likewise been a difficulty; but the word is best referred to the Gothic razn, a house, and likewise a shield, from the protection both afford.

Rand is a northern prefix, and its derivatives are not easy to distinguish from those of Regin and Raven. Röndolfr, or House wolf, was certainly a northern name, and the same seems to have belonged to St. Radulphus, bishop of Bourges in 888, and to thirty-eight Radulfs in Domesday Book, then to the good justiciary, Ranulf de Glanville, under Henry II., to the crusading Earl Randle of Chester, and subsequently to many a Randal, Randolf, and Ralf, or, as we foolishly spell the word, Ralph.

The North had Rannveig, House-liquor, by way of a lady, and have shortened her into Rannog and Ronnau, also Rannmod, Randvid, Randve, or Randverr, house consecration.

Fast—in the sense of firm, not of quick—is found in the northern Fastolf, in the Frank queen, Fastrade, Firm council, in Fastburg, Fastmann, Fastmund. Lidvard, an old Norse name, that with us has run into Ledyard, in its own country into Levor, is the gate ward.

Tryggve, a favourite old northern name, is the true or trusty. The same word sometimes serves as a termination, as in Sigtryg or Sihtric.

Section VI.—Power.

Magan is the Gothic and Saxon to be able, whence our defective may, and a number of other words in all the various northern tongues, in especial main or chief. The names from it are chiefly of German origin. Maginfred, or Powerful-peace, was a fine Old German name, which, by the time it came to the brave but unfortunate Sicilian, son of Frederick II., had been worn down to Manfred, whence he was called by his subjects Manfredi, by his French foes Mainfroi, and by his English contemporaries Mainfroy.

Meginhard, main power, was a chronicler of the early ages, and in 1130 appears in the Cambrai registers. The Germans used it as Mainhart, and the English surname Maynard is from it. Meginrat made Meinrad, or powerful council, and Maginhild is still in use in the North as Magnild.

The main land is, in fact, the chief land, the main, the chief sheet of water, or sea, and might and main are so closely connected together, that Maginhild is the most natural step to Mahthild, Main heroine to Might heroine; for maht is really the modern German macht, and our own might, and both these mighty names were in early use in Germany. Mahthild was the wife of the emperor Henry the Fowler, and afterwards became the sainted abbess of Quedlingburg. Another Swabian Mechtild was canonized after being abbess of Adilstetten; and so fashionable did the name become, that all the French maidens, who were not Alix, seem to have been Mahthild; and in Italy it was borne by the Countess Matilda, the friend of Gregory VII., whose bequest was one of the pope’s first steps to the temporal power, and who is introduced by Dante in the flowery fields of Paradise. The Flemings call it Mahault, and thus term the lady, who, as the wife of William the Conqueror, brought it to England. Molde, as the Normans were pleased to term it, was regarded as so decidedly a Norman name, that the Scottish-Saxon Eadgyth was made to assume it, and it continued the regnant royal name until it sunk beneath the influences of the Provençal Alienor. It seems as if Matilde had been freshly introduced in Flanders when Count Philip married Matilda of Portugal; and this, and the old traditional Mehaut, went on side by side, just as in England did the full name Matilda, and the Anglicized Norman contraction Maude. Of late years Maude has been fashionable, though not so near the original, nor so really graceful in sound as Matilda. The earlier Mall and Moll were from Matilda, not Mary, which came much later into use.

Maatfred and Maatulf were old masculines.

From may and might we pass to our other defective auxiliary can. ‘Knowledge is power,’ is an idea deeply rooted in our languages, for the difference between I ken and I can is well-nigh imperceptible. The Sanscrit gna, forming the Greek verb γιγνώσκω (gignosco), reappears in the Latin nosco, and the Anglo-Saxon cnawan. Another Anglo-Saxon form is cunnan, answering to the Danish kjende, Iceland kunna, German kennan. Thence our word cunning, knowing, and cuth, the past participle, known, noted, or dexterous, whence came several North-Anglian names, Cutha, Cuthwealh, Noted power; Cuthred, Noted council; Cuthwine, Noted friend; Cuthburh, Noted pledge; and chief of all Cuthbryht, the great saint of Lindisfarn in his lifetime, of Durham after his death, when the wanderings of his relics rendered his fame so great that Cuthbert is still national among the peasantry of Northumbria and the Lothians.

Kann seems to have been originally a past tense of ken, and the Teutonic mind concluded that to have learnt is to be able, for all adopted the word can without an infinitive, and varied it into past tenses. To be able was likewise to dare, whence the old Teuton kuoni, Frank chuon, Saxon cene, German kuhn, bold.

Be this as it may, a large class of names has arisen from these words of knowledge and action, earliest of the bearers of which should stand Kunimund, king of the Gepidæ, and Chunimund, king of the Suevi, both meaning Able protection. Chuonrath, Able council, or Bold-speech, was also Suevic, and in the form of Konrad, afterwards a world-wide name in the Swabian house of Hohenstaufen, till the last of their generous though impetuous blood was shed on the scaffold of Corradino, as Naples fondly termed its unfortunate young heir, the Conradin of history. Pity for his untimely fate assisted to spread the name through all the German dependencies, and it has become so common that, like Vasili, Tom, and Heinz, Künz has descended to cats. It has the feminine Cunzila; and our old Mercian King Cenred represented it in England.

Kunigund, or Bold war, was the name of a daughter of the counts of Luxemburg, who was wife to Henry of Bavaria, the sainted emperor, and shared in his canonization, rendering her name national in Bavaria. Another royal saint reigning in Hungary added to its honours, nor has it ever sunk into disuse.

The West Saxon Cenbyrht is the same with the German Kunibert; and Wessex likewise reckoned among her kings Cenfyrth, or able peace, Cenfus, bold impetuosity; while Mercia has Cenhelm and Cenwulf.

Alternating with these are Cynric, Cynebald, Cynewald, Cyneburh, Cynethryth, whose first syllable is cyn, kin, or kind, meaning, of course, kindred or lineage. Some refer Kunibert and Kunigund to this same kin instead of kuhn. This word cyn is one of those regarded as the root of king, cyning, the son of his race or kindred.

Another word seems to have had the same double meaning of ability being strength; for svinn, which is wise in the northern tongues, is in those of central Europe, strong; the English swith, Gothic swinths, German swind; whence the present geschwind, and swift; moreover, swindig is much, or many, in vulgar Dutch, and to swindle is probably to be too much for the victim.

Suintila was an old Gothic king of Spain, Swithbert, one of the early Anglo-Saxon missionaries, especially honoured as the converter of the kindred land of Friesland, where he was revered as St. Swibert. Swithelm was another Saxon form; but the most noted amongst us was Swithun, the bishop of Winchester, tutor to King Alfred, and endowed with many supposed miracles, the best known of which was the forty days' rain, by which, like other honest English saints, he testified his displeasure at having his bones meddled with. The Germans have had Swidburg, Swintfried, Swidger; but in general this has served as a feminine termination, as in Melicent, Frediswid, and in all the many swiths and swinds of the Franks and Goths.

Whether this be the root or not, Svein is in the North a strong youth, generally a servant, but in the form of Svend becoming the favourite name of the kings of Denmark, belonging to him whom Ethelred’s treachery brought down on England, where it was called Swayn, and translated into Latin as Sueno, while Tasso calls the crusading Swend, Sveno. Svinbjorn occurs in Iceland, and is our Swinburn. Svenke, again, is the active or slender youth. It is amusing to see how, from a strong man, the swain became a young man, then a bachelor, then a lover, and, finally, a shepherd.

Another of the mighty words that have been formed into names is vald, the near relative of the Latin valeo. Our verb to wield continues the Anglo-Saxon wealdan, which named the wealds of Kent, nay, and the world itself.

Vald still stands alone in the North, and once was the name of a Frank abbot of Evreux; St. Valdus, in Latin, St. Gaud, in French.

The leading name is, however, Waldheri, Powerful-Warrior appearing as the young prince of Aquitaine, who, in the curious Latin poem which seems to represent the Frankish Nibelungenlied in the south of France, flies from Attila’s court with his fellow-hostage, the Burgundian Hildegunna, and her treasure, and repulses the pursuing Gunther and Hagano. This same Walther was said to have afterwards reigned thirty years in Aquitaine, and, no doubt, the name was already common there, when, about 990, it came to saintly glory, through a monastic saint of that dukedom, who, being followed by two others, caused it to be spread far and wide. Indeed, there are twenty-eight Walters in Domesday, and Cambrai made plentiful use of it in the same form, till, about 1300, the spelling was altered to the French Gautier. Walther von Vogelwied, the Minnesinger, who bequeathed a perpetual dole to the birds of the air at his tomb, well deserved that the memory of his name should be kept up in Germany, and it has always been very popular. Wat, as a contraction, is as old as Rufus’s time, and Water was in use, at least, in Shakespeare’s time, when he shows the prophecy of Suffolk’s death by water fulfilled by the name of his assassin.

Waldemar is an old German form imported by the Normans to England, and sometimes supposed to have been carried to Russia, and to have turned into Vladimir; but this has been traced to a genuine Slavonic source, though it is used by the Russians to represent Walter.

This commencement is almost exclusively German; its other varieties are Waldobert, or Walbert, the Gualberto of Italy, Waldrich, and, perhaps, Walpurg, though she is more probably from val, slaughter.

Frodhr, Wise or learned, is sometimes an epithet, but is also used for a name, and Latinized into Frotho. The Germans have it in combination as Frodwin, wise friend, Frodbert and Frodberta, whence the French make Flobert and Floberte.

The root mah, which made the Sanscrit mahat, Zend maz, Greek megas, Latin magnus, Kelt mawr, comes forth again in Teutonic, with mære, or mara, in Anglo-Saxon, with its comparatives mœrre and mœriste, whence our more and most. This same sense of greatness formed the word maara, fame, and maren, to celebrate, both old German, and it is the commencement of the Frank chieftain’s name from whom all the princes of the earlier race were called Meerwings, Merowig, or Famed men, the Meerwig of German writers and Meroveus of Latinity, whence the Merovée of French history.

Our own Anglian Mercians had among their royal line Merowald, Merehelm, and Merewine; but, in general, mer, or mar, is used as a termination rather than a commencement, and then is always masculine. Merohelm is also called Merchelm, so the French saint, ‘Marculphe,’ may have been Merowulf, though he now looks more like Markulf, a border wolf.wolf.^[148]

Section VII.—Affection.

The Teutons had a few names denoting affection. Dyre is the same in Norse as our own word dear, or dyr in Anglo-Saxon. An inlet on the north-west corner of Iceland is still termed Dyrefiord, from one of the first settlers, and Dyre was the hero of a ballad in the Kæmpeviser, answering to the Scottish Katharine Janfarie, the original of young Lochinvar. The old Germans had Dioro and Diura, and the Anglo-Saxons affectionately called the young sons of their nobility Dyrling, or darling.

Leof, the German lieb, beloved, is much used by the Anglo-Saxons. Two bishops, one of Wells, and afterwards primate, the other of Crediton, were called Leofing, or Lyfing. The first was certainly properly Ælfstan, so it is probable that in both instances Leofing was merely an endearing name that grew up with them, and displaced the baptismal one; but its Latin translation, Livingus, shows the origin of the surname of Livingstone.

England also had Leofwine, Beloved friend, the only native name borne by any of the sons of Earl Godwin. An earlier Leofwine was a member of St. Boniface’s mission, and converted many of the heathens on the banks of the Weser; and as St. Lebwin is patron of Deventer, probably occasioned the name of Lubin, which, from being borne by French peasants, crept into pastoral poetry.

Another of the same mission party was Leobgytha, or Dear gift, called also Liuba and Liebe, who was sent for from her convent at Wimborne to found one of the earliest nunneries in Germany. It is probably from her that Lievine became an old Cambrecis name.

Leof seems to have been the special prefix of the earls of Mercia, for we find among them, besides Leofwine, Leofstan and Leofric, the last the best known for the sake of his wife and of Coventry.

The continental instances of the prefix are among the Spanish Goths, Liuva, Leovigildo, and Liuvigotona; and among the Franks, Leobhard, or Liebhard, a saint of Touraine.

The only present survivor of all the varieties is probably, if we exclude the occasional Puritan Love, the Cornish and Devon feminine Lovedy.

Far more universal are the names derived from the old word vinr, or wine, meaning friend or object of love, the same which has left a descendant in the German wonne, affection, and the Scottish adjective winsome. It is a continual termination, as must have been already observed, and we had it as a commencement in our great English missionary Winfrith, or Friend of peace, the Devonian bishop who spread Christianity over Germany, but who is far better known by the Latin surname which he assumed, namely, Bonifacius. Winibald was another of our missionary saints, and Germany has also had Winrad, Winrich, and Winmar, but the Welsh Wenefred must not be confused with it.

Mild, or mild, is exclusively Saxon; nay, almost exclusively Mercian, for it only occurs in one family; that of King Merowald, who named his three daughters Mildgyth, Mildburh, and Mildthryth. All became nuns, the two latter abbesses, one in Shropshire, the other in the isle of Thanet, and they were canonized as Milburga and Mildreda. Milborough, as the first became Anglicized, was found within the last century in Shropshire, and Mildred was never entirely disused; it belonged to the daughter of Burleigh, and has lately been much revived, under the notion that it means mild speech; but red is always masculine, and, as has been before said, thryth commands or threatens, so that Mildthryth is the gently strict.

Section VIII.—Appearance.

Miss Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs was verily named after a beard. Skegg means neither more nor less than a beard, and strange to say, Bardr and Skegg were both fashionable names in the North; indeed, one Icelandic gentleman rejoiced in the euphonious title of Bardr Bla-skegg, or Beard Blue-beard.

But we have an independent name of this class. William de Albini, the second husband of Henry I.’s widow, Alix of Louvaine, wore moustachios, which the Normans called gernons, and thus his usual title was William als Gernons; and as the common ancestor of the Howards and Percys, he left this epithet to them as a baptismal name, one of the most whimsical of the entire roll. From the Percys it came to Algernon Sidney; and partly through his admirers, partly through inheritance, and partly through the love of trisyllables, has become diffused in England.

Faxe meant the hair or tresses, as may be seen in the names of the horses of day and night, Skinfaxi and Hrinfaxi. Two instances of it are found in the Landnama-bok, Faxi, a colonist from the Hebrides, and Faxabrandr, most likely an epithet due to some peculiarity of hair, probably whiteness, or perhaps fieriness; but it was not common, though it came to England to be the surname of Sir Thomas Fairfax.

The name of our excellent friend Wamba in Ivanhoe must probably have been taken from one of the Visigothic kings of Spain, with whom it was most likely a nickname, like that of Louis de Gros in France, for it means nothing but the belly. Epithets like this were not uncommon, and sometimes were treated as names, such as Mucel, or the big, the sobriquet of the earl of the Gevini; or Budde, the pudding, the person who showed Knut the way over the ice. Many of those used in England were Keltic, showing that the undercurrent of Cymric population must still have been strong.

It is remarkable how very few are the Teuton names taken from the complexion—in comparison with the many used by the Kelts, and even by the Romans—either because the Teutons were all alike fair, or because they thought these casual titles unworthy to be names. Bruno was exclusively German, and may perhaps be only a nickname, but it came to honour with the monk of Cologne, who founded the Carthusian order, and has been used ever since; and the North has Sverke, Sverkir, swarthy or dark, a famous name among the vikings.

Far more modern is the name of Blanche. The absence of colour is in all tongues of Western Europe denoted by forms of blec. In Anglo-Saxon, blœc or blac is the colour black, but blœca is a bleak, empty place, and blœcan is to bleach or whiten; blœco, like the German bleich, stands for paleness. It is the same with German and Norse, in the latter of which blakke hund is not a black dog but a white one. All these, however, used their own weiss or white for the pure uncoloured snow; while the negative blœc, or colourless, was adopted by the Romance languages, all abandoning the Latin albus in its favour. It is literally true that our black is the French white; black and blanc are only the absence of colour in its two opposite effects.

Blach, Blacheman, Blancus, and Blancard, all appear in Domesday; but Blanchefleur and Blanche, seem to have been the produce of romance. The mother of Sir Tristrem was Blanchefleur, a possible translation of some of the Keltic Gwenns or Finns, and it probably crept from romance to reality among the poetical people of southern France. The first historical character so called was Blanca of Navarre, the queen of Sancho IV. of Castille, from whom it was bestowed on her granddaughter, that child of Eleanor Plantagenet, whom her uncle, King John, employed as the lure by which to detach Philippe Auguste from the support of Arthur of Brittany. The treaty only bore that the son of Philippe should wed the daughter of Alfonso of Castille; the choice among the sisters was entrusted to ambassadors, and they were guided solely, by the sound of the name borne by the younger, that of the elder sister, Urraca, being considered by them hateful to French ears, and unpronounceable to French lips. John was punished for his policy, for Blanche’s royal English blood was the pretext of the pope in directing against him her husband, Louis the Lion, but no choice could have been a happier one for France, since Blanche of Castille was the first and best of her many queen-regents.

From her the name became very common in France. One of the daughters of Edward I. was so called, probably from her, in honour of his friendship for her son; it became usual among the English nobility, and is most common in Italy, though it is somewhat forgotten in Spain.

A Swedish heroine called Blenda made this name, from blenden, to dazzle, common in her own country, but it is not known elsewhere.

Koll, with a double l, meaning head, is sometimes used in northern names, but far less commonly than kol, cool, or rather in the act of cooling after great heat. The great blast-bellows with which the gods charitably refreshed the horses of the sun, are called in the Eddaic poetry, isarnkol, or iron coolers, and there may have been some allusion to this in the names of Kol and Kale, which alternated in one of the old northern families. But as the cooling of iron involved its turning black, kolbrünn meant a black breastplate, and was thus used as a by-name; and it may be in this sense of black that kol enters into the composition of Kolbjorn, black bear, Kolgrim, Kolgrima; Kolskegg would thus be black-beard; but Kolbein can hardly be black-leg, so, perhaps, it may refer to the bones being strong as wrought iron; and Kolfinn and its feminine are either cool-white or refer to Finn’s strength. Colbrand is in English romance the name of the Danish giant killed by Guy of Warwick, at Winchester; but the Heptarchy displays a very perplexing set of Cols, as they have been modernized, though they used to be spelt Ceol. There were three Ceolwulfs in Bernicia, Mercia, and Wessex; Ceolred in Mercia, Ceolwald in Wessex, Ceolnoth on the throne of Canterbury. Are these the relatives of the northern kol, cool, or are they ceol, keel, meaning rather a ship than merely the keel, as it does now? Or, on the other hand, are both these, and the northern col, adaptations of the Keltic col or gall, like those already mentioned of Finn? Their exclusive prevalence among the Scandinavians and Anglo-Saxons would somewhat favour the notion.

The northern feminine terminal, frid, belongs to this class, and means the fair, or pretty, from the old northern fridhr, though it is most deceitfully like fred, or frey, peace, and is probably from the same root.

Teitr is a northern man’s name, meaning cheerful: Zeiz answers to it in old German; and though the analogue in Anglo-Saxon does not otherwise occur in any Anglo-Saxon work, yet we find from Bede that Æthelburh, the daughter of Æthelbeorht and Bertha, of Kent, who carried her Christianity to her husband, Eadwine, was also called Tâte, by which we may gather that she was particularly lively and cheerful.

Section IX.—Locality.

A large and interesting class of names relate to country, and express the birthplace or the wandering habits of the original bearers.

The word land was one of these. Its primary meaning seems to be the abode of the people. Long ago we spoke of the Greek λαος, prominent in Laodamia, and many other of the like commencement. An almost similar term runs through the Teutonic tongues; the Saxon leod, German leute, Frank liade, Northern lydhr. The leod, or leute, seem to have been the free inhabitants, including all ranks, and thence we have the laity, for the general people, and the lewd, which has sunk from the free to the ignorant, and then to the dissipated.

The great region of these names taken from the people is Germany. Leutpold, the people’s prince, was a canonized Markgraf of Austria, in the days when that family had hardly yet begun its course of marrying into greatness, and making Leutpold better known at every stage, and by each new dialect differently pronounced, till it turned into Leopold, and was confounded with the old lion names. Indeed, in the old Swiss ballad on the battle of Sempach, translated by Scott, Leopold the Handsome is called the Austrian Lion. The recurrence of the name in the modern imperial line has made it European, and the close connection of our own royal family with the wise king of the Belgians has brought it to England. Of course, it has not escaped a modern German Leopoldine.

Leutgar, the people’s spear, was a good bishop of Antrim, who was speared by the people, or, at least, murdered by them, in the furious wars of the long-haired kings, and was revered as a martyr under the Latin form of Leodigarius. A priest of Chalons was canonized by the same name, which is in France Leguire, and was brought as a territorial surname to England as St. Leger.

Liutgarde seems to have been a Frank saint, but there is no account of her in Alban Butler; but hers is one of the favourite old names at Cambrai. Liutprand, the people’s sword, is one of the chief chroniclers of early French history, and the other forms are Liuther, the only one accepted by the North, and that in the form of Lyder.