Springtime and Other Essays. Sir Francis Darwin
doubtless a rational position, but to me, and I think to many other novel-readers, the names which our imaginary friends and enemies bear is a matter of the greatest interest. To us it seems unbearable to have a Mr. B. as a principal character, and the same objection applies to the names of places—“the little town of C. near the cathedral town of D.” is too depressing. Trollope, who does not rank high as a name-artist, entirely satisfies us with his Barchester and its Bishop Proudie and Archdeacon Grantley. George Eliot, too, has been able in the case of Stonyshire and Loamshire to give convincing names to counties, and never offends in the names of her characters, though they have no especial attractiveness.
In some cases it is hard to say whether or no a given name is appropriate. In Jane Austen’s books, for instance, we have grown up in familiarity with the characters and we cannot associate them with others. It would be unbearable to have Emma’s lover called Mr. William Larkins and his servant George Knightley. And this is not merely the result of old acquaintance; there is, I cannot doubt, a real dignity in one name and a touch of comedy in the other. For this statement one can but rely on instinct, but a real William Larkins (and I must apologise to him if he exists) will doubtless take a different view of the matter.
But Jane Austen, like George Eliot, makes no pretence to be an artist in nomenclature. She merely aims, I imagine, at names which, without being colourless, are free from meaning and in every way possible.
Thackeray is the outstanding instance of a novelist who makes a fine-art of nomenclature. With him there is an obvious delight in coining names. Thus there would be no harm in Clive Newcome going to Windsor and Newton’s shop to buy paint brushes, but Thackeray sends him to Messrs Soap and Isaac—a parody of that highly respectable firm which always pleases me.
I have with some little labour made a rough index of Vanity Fair, and I find in the second volume (which is probably a fair sample of the names in the whole book) that there are 247 names. The author evidently takes a delight in their invention. For instance, at one of Becky’s great dinner parties (vol. ii., p. 172), the eminent guests who come in after dinner are principally cheeses [16]—Duchess (Dowager) of Stilton, Duc de la Gruyère, Marchioness of Cheshire, Marchese Alessandro Strachino, Comte de la Brie, Baron Schapzuger. The list also contains the name of Chevalier Tosti, who, I take it, is toasted cheese.
The titles he gives to business firms are not always complimentary. For instance, we have (vol. ii., p. 283) the case of poor Mr. Scape, who was ruined by entering the great Calcutta house of Fogle, [17a] Fake and Cracksman. Both Fogle and Fake had left the firm with large fortunes, “and Sir Horace Fogle is about to be raised to the peerage as Baron Bandanna.”
A similar type of name is the title of Becky’s solicitors, Messrs Burke, Thurtell and Hayes, [17b] who forced the Insurance Company to pay the amount for which poor Jos Sedley’s life had been insured (vol. ii., p. 391). It is interesting to find (vol. ii., p. 341) that the author introduces himself in the person of Mr. Frederick Pigeon, who “lost eight hundred pounds to Major Loder and the Honourable Mr. Deuceace.” This may remind us of Thackeray’s own loss of £1500 in a similar way (Dict. of Nat. Biog.). In some instances the author evidently could not take the trouble to coin effective names, as for instance in his reference to the firm of Jones, Brown and Robinson [18] (vol. ii., p. 130). A member of this firm became 1st Baron Helverlyn, when he altered his name to Johnes. His unfortunate daughter became the wife of Lord Gaunt. The subsidiary titles of this nobleman are pleasant—Viscount Hellborough, Baron Pitchley and Grillsby.
Other firms are represented as purely Jewish, e.g., Mr. Lewis representing Mr. Davids, and Mr. Moss acting for Mr. Manasseh, who complimented Becky “upon the brilliant way in which she did business” when she was making arrangements for Rawdon’s debts (vol. ii., p. 10).
There are many good names of shady people, e.g., Lady Crackenbury (vol. ii., p. 140), whom Becky cut, and Mrs. Washington White, to whom she “gave the go-by in the Ring”; Mrs. Chippenham (p. 160) and Mme. de la Cruchecassée are of the same type. There is also Lady Slingstone, who said that Lord Steyne was “really too bad,” but she went to his party.
Among the virtuous folks, I am particularly fond of Sir Lapin Warren (vol. i., p. 207), whose lady was about to present him with a thirteenth child. A variant occurs in vol. ii., p. 286, where we read of “thirteen sisters, daughters of a country curate, the Rev. Felix Rabbits.”
One might quote names for ever, but I must be satisfied with but a few more.
Among the professionally religious folks we have Rev. Lawrence Grills. Among the fashionables Lady FitzWillis of the Kingstreet family; Major-General and Lady Grizzel Macbeth (she had been Lady G. Glowry, daughter of Lord Grey of Glowry [19]); and Mrs. Hook Eagles, who patronised Becky.
Names that seem to me bad are Fitzoof, Lord Heehaw’s son, Mrs. Mantrap, and Lord Claude Lollypop. But there are innumerable other good ones: Macmurdo, who was to have been Rawdon’s second in a duel with Lord Steyne; Captain Papillon of the Guards, attending the young wife of old Methuselah (a bad name); young May and his bride, “Mrs. Winter that was, and who had been at school with May’s grandmother.”
Viscount Paddington was a guest at Becky’s “select party” in May Fair. Finally, the Earl of Portansherry and the Prince of the house of Potztausand-Donnerwetter are good although obvious.
In Pendennis are many good names. Major Pendennis was proud of having made up the quarrel between Lady Clapperton and her daughter Lady Claudia. Lady John Turnbull, who spoke such bad French. Mr. Kewsy, the barrister. Mr. Sibwright, the luxurious young man in whose vacant chamber Laura Bell slept during Pendennis’ illness. The best of all names must be given in Morgan’s own words, “Lord de la Pole, sir, gave him [a valet] to his nephew young Lord Cubley, and he have been with him on his foring tour, and not wishing to go to Fitzurse Castle, etc., etc.”
I must reluctantly leave Thackeray and consider a very different maker of names, namely Dickens. It is sometimes said that his names are not invented but discovered by research. In my son Bernard’s A Dickens Pilgrimage (Times Series, 1914), he writes, p. 22: “Other people have been before us in seeing that Mr. Jasper keeps a shop in the High Street of Rochester,” and that “Dorretts and Pordages are buried under the shadow of the cathedral.” He claims as his own the discovery that in the churchyard of Chalk (near Rochester) there are “three tombstones standing almost next door to one another and bearing a trinity of immortal names, Twist, Flight, and Guppy.” He adds that “the lady in Bleak House spelt her name Flite.” I fail to believe that anybody was ever called Pumblechook, and there are others equally impossible. But the great name of Pickwick is not an invention. Mr. Percy Fitzgerald [20] gives plenty of evidence on this point, in a discussion suggested by the sacred name being inscribed on the Bath coach, to Sam Weller’s indignation. There was, for instance, a Mr. William Pickwick of Bath, who died in 1795. Again, in 1807, the driver of “Mr. Pickwick’s coach … was taken suddenly and very alarmingly ill on Slanderwick Common.” One member of the family “entered the army, and for some reason changed his name to Sainsbury.” The object, as Mr. Fitzgerald points out, is obvious enough. Mr. Fitzgerald mentions (p. 16) the curious fact that Mr. Dickens (the son of the author) once had to announce that he meant to call Mr. Pickwick as a witness in a case he was conducting. The Judge made the characteristic remark, “Pickwick is a very appropriate character to be called by Dickens.”
With regard to the name Winkle, I cannot agree with Mr. Fitzgerald [21] that Dickens took it from Washington Irving’s Rip Van Winkle.
Among the few names taken from real people is that of Mr. Justice Stareleigh, who is generally believed to be Mr. Justice Gaselee.
Sergeant Buzfuz in the same trial is believed on the authority of Mr. Bompas to be Serjeant Bompas, the father of that eminent Q.C., but there seems to be no evidence that it is a portrait. In Pickwick some of the best names are those of various business firms, e.g., Bilson and Slum, who were Tom Smart’s employers. In the Judge’s chambers (which “are said to be of specially dirty appearance”) was a crowd of unfortunate clerks “waiting to attend summonses their employers had taken out, which it was optional to the attorney on the opposite side to attend