Zara is expecting her second child -- a boy! -- brother for her son Auden.
Zara writes: " am really hoping you can help as I am at a loss. I have a 4 year old son called Auden (a name I adore... found through your website!). We are due to have a second son in May and I cannot think of a name that goes with Auden. A name that is unusual like Auden but also strong and doesn’t feel made up – I have toyed with the idea of Jude then realised I know 4 Jude’s already so this is perhaps too common for me.
Popularity does matter ideally I don’t want anything in the top 100 in UK or Australia"
Names already considered/crossed off: Llewyn, Lowen (don’t want him to get called Louie), Theon, Arlo.
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I love Auden! What I especially like about it is its sleek modern feel but with a heritage that goes back to both the Anglo-Saxons and the Vikings. I'll be honest, I was a little gutted to see Llewyn crossed off your list, as one of the names that has the same modern-ancient vibe for me is Lewin, the later form (now more common as a surname) of the Old English name Leofwine meaning "dear friend." However, there are plenty of other uncommon modern-sounding names with ancient heritages to choose from:
Levin – If you are worried Lewin will lead to Louie, how about Lewin's brother Levin, derived both from the Anglo-Saxon Leofwine "dear friend" and the Old Germanic cognate Leobwin. It's uncommon in the English-speaking world (except as a surname) but ranks in the top 20 in Switzerland. It can also be spelled Leven.
Levett – In a similar vein, is Levett, a name that survives as a surname derived from the Old French leuet "wolf-cub" which was probably used as a nickname in the early Middle Ages.
Jago – Blending Jude and Arlo, Jago is a traditional Cornish name used as a form of Jacob/James. It's origins, however, date right back to the early Middle Ages and beyond -- Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote about a legendary king of Britain named Jago -- and the Welsh form, Iago, has been in use since at least the 6th century, so it most likely represents an ancient Celtic name.
Jowan / Bowen– In line with Lowen, Jowan is another sleek Cornish name, a form of ancient John. Bowen is a Welsh surname derived from ab Owen "son of Owen."
Evander/Leander/Lysander – These Ancient Greek heroes still have an effortlessly cool and modern sound. All combine the Greek andros "man" with positive elements: eu "good" (Evander), leon "lion" (Leander) and lysis "free, releasing i.e. emancipator" (Lysander).
Theron – A lesser known, but equally stylish ancient Greek name is Theron meaning "hunter" in Greek.
Roscoe – Like Arlo, Roscoe is surname derived from topography. In this case, Roscoe derives from a Scandinavian name meaning "deer forest."
Enver – A highly accessible Albanian name which is itself a form of the Arabic Anwar meaning "luminous, enlightened, radiant."
Blaine/Blane – Blane is an ancient Gaelic name derived from blaan "yellow" which survives as the name of a 6th-century Scottish saint.
Tate – A modern form of the Anglo-Saxon name Tata, likely cognate with the Norse name Teitr meaning "happy, glad, merry."
Soren – An anglicised form of the traditional Danish and Norwegian Søren and Swedish Sören -- both derived from the ancient Roman name Severinus.
Zephyr – In Greek mythology, Zephyros was the god of the west wind. Zephyr is the sleek and cool English form.
Reeve– In the Middle Ages, a reeve was an official, estate manager or a king's officer, and even has a literary twist thanks to Chaucer's The Reeve's Tale from The Canterbury Tales.
Brooks – This suave and sophisticated surname-first name is rare in Britain, but is marginally better known in the US where it is a rising trendsetter (having risen smoothly from #596 to #231 in ten years) Namesakes include silent film actor Brooks Benedict (1896-1968) and baseball player Brooks Robinson (b.1937).
Torben – Torben is a modern form of the Old Norse name Thorbjorn (Þòrbjörn), composed from Thor "thunder," the ultimate Viking god, and bjorn "bear."
Thurstan/Torsten – From the Old Norse name Þórstæinn meaning "Thor's stone". Torsten is the more modern Scandinavian form, while Thurstan is the Old English variant which survived in use in Britain through the Middle Ages into the 19th century. Though uncommon, it was once well used among the aristocracy in North England in the 15th century.
Zane – An English surname descended from the Old English personal name Saewine, made up of the elements sǣ "sea" and wine "friend."
Leif – An ancient Viking name meaning "heir, descendant" which was made famous by 11th century explorer Leif Eriksson. Leif is also found as an English surname deriving from Leofa "beloved."
Saxon – The name of the ancient tribe which derived their name from their weapon of choice: seax "knife, short sword, dagger." In the same way, Franklin derives from the Franks, who got their name from *frankon "javelin, lance." The name survives as a surname.
Foxon – This cool surname looks like uber-cool Fox, but actually derives from medieval name Folk, itself derived from the Old Germanic name Fulco meaning "of the people."
I hope this has been of use. Best wishes for finding the perfect name.
'Twas Ever Thus: The trouble with "famous" names
The following article appear in The Spectator Magazine on 2nd July 1864. I found the same article in many redacted forms across numerous local newspapers over the succeeding two weeks.
The article discusses some of the more "outlandish" naming practices among Victorian parents, but particularly pays attention to the (what the author sees as) trouble with naming your child after a famous person.
BABIES' NAMES
THE earnest little discussion which arises in a new nursery as to "dear baby's name seems a little absurd to outsiders, but the instinct of mothers is right. The baby will not be Lord High Chancellor or an Archbishop, as mamma and nurse think so probable, but through life one of the most direct influences bearing upon his fortunes will be his name. It is almost a quality which his mother gives him, something which may smooth his path like a new faculty, or retard it like some physical want or bodily deformity.
So great is its influence that it seems a little hard the parent should have so despotic a power, that the child himself should not, say at fifteen, have the right to insist if he sees fit upon a legal rechristening. He must accept the family cognomen like any other decree of Fate, and consent, to be Sim for the same reason that he consents to be red-haired. But he need not be Sardanapalus Sim any more than he need have his eyebrows shaved, and it is a little unjust that a Byron-struck mother should have the right to inflict such a deformity.
We do not allow a mother to tattoo a child, or burn letters upon its forehead, or snip bits off an already snub nose, and why should she be permitted to brand her child still more effectually, burden his life with a name like Adonijah, or Alietta Mehetabal Chinnery Stubbs, or Susannah Marianna Moneybuckle Clayton, all real names of to-day, or render it ridiculous by calling him,—we know the man,—Noah's Ark Hodgson? The mother would be hooted if she deliberately bred her son as a scamp, yet she may call him Jerry,—or taught him to be a sneak, yet she can compel all men to call him Uriah.
It is very hard, and in that coming time when the dignity of humanity is fully appreciated, we expect to hear of a revolt of universal childhood in favour of extending that dearly loved privilege of babies, "doing things one's ownself," to the right of rechristening. Mothers, however, are usually pretty sensitive to ridicule, and horrible names are consequently growing less common ; but still there is a want of principle in the matter, a need of a nursery law to which the injudicious, or the weak, or the over-political may at a pinch appeal.
Women are imaginative, and apt to fall under the influence of novels and superstition, leading to names like Zanoni Tompkins, and Mephibosheth Britain ; and fathers are disposed to name their children not with any reference to their comfort, but to advertise their own connections, or convictions, or, worse than all, admirations.
Whether any man ever really called his son Acts because "he'd used up the Evangelists, and wanted to compliment the Apostles a bit," may reasonably be doubted, but the habit of "complimenting" the great by using their names is very widely diffused.
Percy at one time because so common as to be regularly admitted into the list of "Christian names," and Victor will from this year be added to that very limited repertoire. There must be scores of children by this time all ticketed Garibaldi, a process equivalent to branding a date on their foreheads, and it is lucky for the next generation of girls that the Princess's name is an old one, for if it had been Caesarea or Napoleona they would have borne it none the less.
So long as the name is generic mere ugliness does not greatly matter to the child, but a name given from admiration is almost always peculiar, and if the original wearer were widely known it is difficult to inflict on a child a deeper injury. It puts him throughout his whole life out of gear with his associations, dislocates the idea of the man from the idea of his name till the mere mention of him excites a smile. If his career is utterly unlike that of his namesake there is a sense of dissonance, if it resembles it there is the impression of inferiority. Nothing could be worse for a rising general than to be named Napoleon, yet the title would sound as ridiculous if attached to a white-faced curate.
In most instances the secret idea of the unlucky man would be to live up to his name, to be Mirabeau Stubbs the Revolutionist, an idea sure to spoil his life ; but even if it worked the other way, half his energy would be exhausted in merely getting rid of his burden.
There is or was a very respectable shoemaker in Norwich to whom his father, a free-thinker like most cobblers, gave the names of Voltaire Paine Smith. Smith grew up a meek, godly Sunday- school teacher, with no brains, and his name would have proved a serious embarrassment to his piety but that his neighbours fortunately for his repute in class meeting could not pronounce it. They called him in their ignorance Vulture Smith, and the poor man complained with tears in his eyes that he, best meaning of imbecile mortals, was universally believed to have earned a nickname by cruel usury.
"Napoleon Price" of Bond Street, we suspect, has found his name worth an annuity, for nobody can forget his advertisements, from the absurd contrast between the ideas suggested by the conqueror's name and the hair oil his namesake sells, but in private life it must be a very considerable bore.
There is the poor man who died this week so suddenly at the St. Pancras meeting, Mr. Washington Wilks. He was, we believe, a decidedly intelligent man, very earnest in his somewhat advanced opinions, and a very good speaker, but if he had been an orator beyond compare he never could have lived down his name. Somehow the treble relation called up by it, the remembrance of Washington and of Wilkes, and of the difference between the two, and the sense of the contrast between both and a vestry agitator, was too strong for common sense or kindliness. We heard a very good-natured man remark on the catastrophe, "natural for such a name to die of a public meeting," and probably except among those who knew him there was not one who could quite escape the sense of incongruity between the horror of the event and the effect of the sufferer's name, and all incongruity is grotesque.
Byron Brown may be a most respectable man, but nobody will ever believe in his verses, and Demosthenes Jones had better follow any trade than that of a public speaker. The mothers may rest assured that of all the mistakes they can make, that of giving their babies names which suggest to all men distinct associations, calling their boys Gracchus or their daughters Semiramis, is the very worst.
There is some reason for the growing dislike to the twelve or fifteen names once called distinctively Christian, probably because they have no relation whatever to Christianity,—for the use of a name is to ensure distinctiveness, and when whole clans are named Henry, distinctiveness is not attained. But if they want a new list let them shun the conquerors, and poets, and politicians, and agitators, and ancient Hebrews, and either employ a surname,—the use of the mother's surname as the eldest son's praenomen is a blameless and useful custom, and very "aristocratic,"—or revert to the old Saxon reservoir now so liberally drawn upon for girls, but still neglected for boys' names.
The Spectator
2 July 1864
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I find this article especially interesting given this request to Babynames.com a few days ago (link found via Clare's wonderful scoop.it site) asking to remove Donald Trump from the entry of the name Donald due to his being "too controversial of a figure." It really does show that there is nothing new under the sun when it comes to naming issues.
'Twas ever thus indeed!
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Posted at 07:54 PM in Historical Name Commentary | Permalink | Comments (3)
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