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 or not, and whose business it was from time to time to cry out the opposite attorney’s name.  For example, leaning against the wall . . . was an office lad of fourteen with a tenor voice; near him a common law clerk with a bass one.  A clerk hurried in with a bundle of papers and stared about him.

“‘Sniggle and Blink,’ cried the tenor.

“‘Porkin and Snob,’ growled the bass.

“‘Stumpy and Deacon,’ said the newcomer.”

These are fairly good names, though they have not the touch of Thackeray.  I like the names of the chief heroes in the cricket match at Dingley Dell.  Dumpkins and Podder went in first for All-Muggleton, the bowlers on the other side being Struggles and Luffey.  These names are so familiar that it is hard to judge them, but on the whole they seem to me fairly good, as being slightly comic and not impossible.  But when we come to Horatio Fizkin, Esq., of Fizkin Lodge, and Hon. Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall, we are indeed depressed.  But there are worse names in Pickwick.  When Mrs Nupkins and her daughter have discovered Captain Fitz-Marshall to be a scamp: “How can we ever show ourselves in society?” said Miss Nupkins.

“‘How can we face the Porkenhams?’ cried Mrs Nupkins.

“‘Or the Griggs?’ cried Miss Nupkins.

“‘Or the Slummintowkens?’ cried Mrs Nupkins.”

This last seems to me about as bad a name as any writer ever invented.  But Nockemorf, the name of Bob Sawyer’s predecessor in the apothecary business, is almost equally tiresome in a different style.

Why he chose such names it is hard to say, since he certainly could invent improbable names which are nevertheless appropriate.  For instance, Smangle and Mivins are quite good names for the offensive scamps on whom Mr Pickwick is “chummed” in the Fleet Prison.

Daniel Grummer, the name of Mr Nupkins’ tipstaff, is roughly of the same type, and Wilkins Flasher, as an objectionable stockbroker is called, is quite a passable name.  The only name in Pickwick which is comparable to those of Thackeray is Mrs Leo Hunter, while Count Smorltork, who occurs in the same scene, is unbearable.  On the other hand, Captain Boldwig is quite a good name.

I now pass to Sir Walter Scott.  It must be confessed that in the two books chosen for analysis—Guy Mannering and The Antiquary—he is disappointing as an artist in nomenclature.  To begin with Guy Mannering, it is impossible to imagine why he gave such a name as Meg Merrilies to his magnificent heroine.  It suggests “merry lies,” and makes us suspect that she was originally intended for a comic character. [23]  And why, as she grew into a tragedy queen, he did not rename her I cannot understand.  Fortunately he gave the colourless name Abel Sampson to another great character—the immortal Dominie.  Again Dirk Hatteraick is a passable name.  I cannot pretend to say whether it is a Dutch name, but as Dirk uses German (of a sort) when not speaking English, we may leave the question open.  Among the names which are clearly bad are: Sir Thomas Kittlecourt, John Featherhead, Sloethorn (a wine merchant), Mortcloke the undertaker, Quid the tobacconist, Protocol the lawyer, and lastly the MacDingawaies, a Highland sept or clan.

The following seem to be bearable or fairly good, but I must confess to a want of instinct as to Scotch names: MacGuffog, a constable, Macbriar, Dandy Dinmont (although a dinmont is the Scottish for “a wedder in the second year”), MacCandlish.  On the whole, as far as Guy Mannering is concerned, the author gets but few good marks and many bad ones.

The same is, I fear, true of The Antiquary.  We find such bad names as Rev. Mr Blattergowl of Trotcosey (vol. i., p. 208); Baron von Blunderhaus; Dibble the gardener; Dousterswivel, the German or Dutch swindler; the Earl of Glengibber; Goldiword, a moneylender; Dr Heavysterne, from the Low Countries; Mr Mailsetter of the Post Office; Sandie Netherstanes the miller; Jonathan Oldbuck, the hero of the book; Sir Peter Pepperbrand of Glenstirym.  Of the name Strathtudlem I cannot judge; it does not strike me as good, though possibly better than the immortal Tillietudlem of Old Mortality.

There are, of course, a number of names which do not offend, but there are few which are actually attractive.  Among the last-named class are Edie Ochiltree, Francis of Fowlsheugh, Elspeth of Craigburnfoot, Lady Glenallan, Francie Macraw, Ailison Breck, but among these Edie Ochiltree is the only name which is undoubtedly