WHAT’S IN A NAME

Cue (NZERS), Issue 31, 15 September 1945, Page 27

WHAT’S IN A NAME

Modern readers of Dickens laugh at Sam Weller who, when asked whether he spelled his name with a V or a W, replied: ’’That depends on the taste and fancy of the speller, my lord. I •have never had occasion to l spell it more than once or twice in my life, but I spells it with a V.” We today are often very particular about how our names are spelled, but there are many instances of even well-educa-ted persons before the nineteenth century spelling their own names in different ways. The learned Dr. Crown, in the various books he published in the latter half of the seventeenth century spelled his name Cron, Croon, Croun, Crone, Croone, or Croune. England’s greatest writer was so indifferent as to sign himself Shag sy er, a fact which is usually emphasised by the Baconians. The modern spelling of any particular name is purely accidental. Of the many examples of one name producing several, by alterations

in the spelling, such as Smith and Smythe, perhaps the word lea, which gave rise to Lee, Ley, Leigh, Legh, Legge, Lay, and Lye has produced more orthographic offspring than any other word in Anglo-Saxon.

To New Zealanders the pronunciations which usage has accorded many of the longer English names are often baffling. Not everyone who heard the name ’’Chumley” would realise at once that it was a telescoped form of Cholmondeley, for instance; or that ’’Marshbanks” was really Marjoribanks and ’’Mannering” Mainwaring. There are many examples that come to mind, such as ’’Stenson” for Stevenson, ’’Ensor” for Edensor, ’’Posnett” for Postlethwaite, and ’’Sully” for Sudeley. But there are few more startling contractions than in the case of General Auchinleck, former commander in the Desert, whose name, as most New Zealanders now know, is pronounced ’’Affleck”.