Happy Shrove Tuesday! Or Pancake Day, if you prefer. As Lent begins and we leave February behind, it's time for me to look back and the namey goodness which I've been pondering this month.
Laia
February is awards season, kicked off this year by the BAFTAs (the British Academy of Film and Television Arts). This year's winner of the BAFTA Rising Star Award was Catalan actress Laia Costa.
Laia is a popular Catalan name -- it has ranked at #3 in Catalonia for the last four years, and in the top 5 since at least 2003 -- and also ranks in the top 30 in Spain overall. It is a shortform of Eulalia, the name of a popular 4th century Spanish martyr, St Eulalia, who is also the patron saint of Barcelona (the capital city of Catalonia).
Eulalia was originally an Ancient Greek name meaning "well spoken:" ευ (eu) "good" and λαλεω (laleo) "to talk". Laia is pronounced LĪ-yə (rhyming with Mya). You can hear the Catalan pronunciation here.
Mahershala
Another name which peaked my interest from the BAFTAs was that of American actor Mahershala Ali (pronounced ma-HER-sha-la), who most recently won the Oscar for Best Actor. As soon as I saw it, I was immediately reminded of Mahershalalhashbaz -- perhaps my favourite Biblical name, just because...well, it's so long and quirky (the longest name in the Bible in fact), and what's not to love?
It turns out that Mahershalalhashbaz is actually the full name of the actor. How exciting!
In the Bible, Mahershalalhashbaz is a prophetic-name, given to a child mentioned in the Book of Isaiah, meaning "Hurry to the spoils!". The name itself is said to have prophesied the plunder of Samaria and Damascus by the king of Assyria, Tiglath-Pileser III.
Giacinto
A trip to Bella Italia on a girls' night out led to this name-spotting on the menu:
Pippo is pretty fun. Like our Pippa is a short form of Philippa, Pippo is an Italian nickname for Filippo. But, I'm more struck by Giacinto, the Italian form of the Greek Hyacinthus. Even in Ancient Greek times, the name signified the Hyacinth flower. The last element is anthos "flower," but the first part is unknown.
The English form of the name -- Hyacinth -- has long since gained a feminine feel thanks to the flower, but across Europe there are plenty of great alternative masculine forms: the Italian Giacinto, Spanish and Portuguese Jacinto and Polish Jacenty/Jacek.
Havoise
I love genealogy. Sadly, I don't get much time to do it these days, but this month, I did grab a bit of time to research my soon-to-be brother-in-law's family tree. Sickeningly (for me, at least, because I'm incredibly jealous), Scott has a gateway ancestor who links to the gentry. Cue a whole host of illustrious ancestors, including King Edward III and Rollo, first Duke of Normandy. One of the names that really stood out to me was Havoise, the name of a daughter of Richard I, Duke of Normandy
She is more commonly known in Britain by the English form is Hawise -- a name I'm very familiar with as it was common in medieval England -- but the French form, Havoise, was one I never took note of before. Both come from the Germanic Hadewidis composed of the elements hadu "battle, combat" and wid "wide."
Maidie
Speaking of my soon-to-be brother-in-law, we took him to my father's ancestral home of Norfolk to meet some of the family last weekend and showed him the sights of Norwich. One of the main attractions is the city's glorious medieval cathedral, which featured an exhibition of the work of sculptor David Holgate, who created the statues of Mother Julian and St Benedict, pride of place on the Cathedral's west front.
One of his pieces included the headstone of a fellow Norwich artist (Florence) Maidie Buckingham (1901-1988).
Like May, Molly and Maisie, Maidie is a Victorian nickname for both Mary and Margaret. It is equally as appealing, but still lurks under the radar.
Storm
Storm Doris has raged across Britain this month. It was named by the UK's Met Office and Ireland's Met Eireann together, who have combined a list of 21 names for the 2016-2017 storm season from 10,000 submissions. The list is as follows:
Angus, Barbara, Conor, Doris and Ewan have already rolled through. Time will tell whether storm Wilbert ever comes to fruition.
Storm itself is a bold and striking nature name, but one that I think has a lot of potential while the likes of Bear and River get ever more popular.
'Twas Ever Thus: Victorian Name Poems
The following two articles appeared in the Leicester Chronicle. The first on Saturday 18 February, 1893 and the second on Saturday 12 February, 1898.
NAMING THE BABY
We searched the list from first to last
To find a name appropriate;
To crown our curly-headed boy
We wanted something strong and great.
First Leonard struck us lionlike —
A goodly name—alas! and when
The owner reaches man's estate.
He'll thunder down old time as "Len."
Philander troubled us awhile—
For man should love his fellow-man;
But 'tis so easy to behead
To common "Phil," we never can.
Now Roderic is rich in fame—
We well; we won't. 'Twill never do
To place out boy beneath the ban
Of common "Rod" his life all through.
A charming name was Lancelot,
Or Valentine, Augustus—all;
But "Lance" and "Val" and "Gus" are not
The names we wanted folks to bawl.
Then Constantine and Bertram shone.
But "Con" and "Bert" we didn't like;
And "Sol" is easy cut from Saul—
It seemed a name we never strike.
My wife persued the novels strong,
While aunts and cousins entered in
The list with names that should belong—
Of course each claim could never win.
The baby grew, and found his tongue,
And set our fancies to his will,
And yelled one night, with boyish din,
"Come off the roof, and call me 'Bill!'"
Leicester Chronicle
18 Feb 1893
.
THE BABY'S NAME
"Mordaunt," she called him. In a novel book
His mother found the name she give to him;
I didn't like it, for kinder took
A sort of notion favor'ble to "Jim."
But when she looked up at me from the bed,
Half dead, but happy, an' she said: "I want
That you shall name him, after all," I said:
"Why, blame it all, of course, it is Mordaunt."
She knew the way I felt about such names
An' that this was a sacrifice, fer she
Had often heard me say that honest "James"
Had just about the proper ring fer me;
But though 'twas disapp'intment, still I thought
She was the one that had the right to choose,
An' I—there wasn't any question—ought
To reconcile my wishes to her views.
He was so delicate—so teeny small,
But smarter than the cracker of a whip;
I don't believe he ever cried at all—
Sometimes he'd pucker up his little lip
An' look at you until you was ashamed.
Of all the sins you knew he knew you'd done;
I often thought he grieved because we'd named
By such a name a helpless little one.
An' thinking that, when we two was alone,
I called him by the name I liked so well,
His mother would 'a grieved if she'd 'a known,
But neither Jim nor me would ever tell.
We never told. He'd laugh and crow to hear
Me whisperin' so happ'ly to him;
"Yer name's Mordaunt, old boy, when mother's near;
But when there's only me about, it's Jim."
We never told our little secret, and
We never will—we never, never will;
Somewhere off yonder, in a flow'ry land
A little baby's toddlin', toddlin' still,
A-seeking in the sunshine all alone
The God that give an' then that sent for him—
Mordaunt's the name carved on the little stone,
But in my heart the name is always Jim.
Leicester Chronicle
12 Feb 1898
.
Posted at 10:07 PM in Historical Name Commentary | Permalink | Comments (3)
|
|