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| 'Fair Rosamund' by John William Waterhouse |
Here, in the imagination of John Waterhouse, is the Fair Rosamund, leaning out of a rose-bedecked tower window, longing for her lover King Henry II while her cruel rival and soon-to-be-murderer Queen Eleanor peers at her from behind the arras. Most of this is pure fiction. The reason I'm depicting her here is that back in the 12th century 'Rosamund' was an extremely unusual given name. It was possibly unique to this particular woman and was rare throughout the entire medieval period, probably because rosa munda (pure rose) and rosa mundi (rose of the world) were epithets reserved for the Virgin Mary.
One of my pet bug-bears about historical novels set in ‘medieval times' is when authors call their characters by names which are
unhistorical for the century in which the story is set: after all, the term 'medieval' covers about half of a millenium during which an awful lot of changes in fashion occurred. Fantasies (I'm sorry
to say) are some of the worst offenders, perhaps because a vague medieval ambiance
is all the author really wants. This is fine if the story is set in
some fantasy-land or fairyland in which dragons dwell, where wicked knights in black plate-armour
inhabit grim stone castles at one end of the village, fair damsels live in
rose-smothered cottages at the other, honest peasants toil in the fields somewhere in
the middle, and the whole is surrounded by darksome woods. But – but! – if you start telling me the wicked
knights are Normans and the peasants and the heroine are Saxons, and if you set the story ‘just after the Norman Conquest’, then I feel you, the author, ought
to get a grip and do your best to present me with a reasonably
accurate picture of the time.
The period of active Saxon rebellion against the Norman
invaders lasted till about 1070: after that, any widespread popular resentment,
if indeed it existed, was probably short-lived. True, the Normans
displaced or eliminated most of the Saxon nobility, but for the peasants, free or
unfree, life did not change very much. So in a novel set during the century after 1066, the wicked knight will be wearing
chain-mail, not plate armour. Unless he is very important indeed he will live not in a stone castle but in a wooden fort on a mound surrounded
by a stockade (as the Montgomery lords did at Hen Gomen, not building their stone
castle until 1223). And though the peasants will certainly still be toiling in the fields,
the fair damsel’s cottage will have no red roses around the door, since cultivated
roses would have been a hugely expensive rarity. Moreover, if she’s a Saxon she ought to be called something like Aelfthryth or Eadburh or Edith – not Mary or Alison, names which won't appear for about another two hundred years. If the heroine is a Norman lady you may name her Rose so long as you spell it Roheis, Rothais or Roesia: but be aware that after the 12th century the name goes out of use for about seven hundred years.
Here, for the benefit of all of us, is a masterclass from
Lord Raglan (1885-1964) in nomenclature for the early medieval period. “Let us
start with the Saxons,” he begins,
and note without surprise
that they were called by Saxon names. Examples of such names may be found in
any history – Godwin, Stigand, Siward, Leofric.
The Saxons were not called William, Walter or Robert, because these were
Norman-French names which were introduced into England by the Normans. A
pre-Conquest Saxon would be no more likely to be called by a Norman-French name
than a modern Englishman to be called Marcel or Gaston.
So much for the Christian names
of the Saxons; now to surnames. The Saxons had no surnames. A Godric might be
referred to as ‘the timberer’ or ‘the son of Guthlac’, but these were not his
names; whether he was earl or churl he had one name, and one name only. This single name was never a place name. Like
the Scandinavians, Irish and Welsh, the Saxons never used place-names as
personal names. It is clear then that when a Saxon ‘ancestor’ is claimed to
have been called Bertram Ashburnham or William Pewse, he must be a fake, since
no Saxon was ever called Bertram or Ashburnham or William or Pewse.
The case of the Normans is
different. During their residence in France the Normans had almost completely dropped
their Norse names, and had adopted such Frankish names as Richard, Hugh and
Baldwin. William [the Conqueror’s] army contained many Frenchmen and Flemings,
as well as Normans, but their names were much the same. There was also a
contingent of Bretons, who had some names of their own. Of these, Alan was the
commonest, though the ancestor of the FitzAlans ... did not come over till the
next century.
In that century [the 12th]
a few Biblical names began to creep in, probably under the influence of the
Crusades [the First Crusade began in 1095]; previously such names as John and
Thomas are not found among either Normans or Saxons.
Unlike the Saxons, the Normans
had surnames, but before about 1150 these were personal and not hereditary.
William, son of Hugh and lord of Dinard, would be called William FitzHugh and
William de Dinard, or both. His son would be called Richard FitzWilliam, and
would be called Richard de Dinard only if he owned it. If we find Robert de
Dinard succeeding Richard de Dinard, it by no means follows that they were relatives;
Richard might have sold, or died without heirs, or been dispossessed.
About 1400 place-names began to
be borne as surnames without ‘de’ or ‘of’ before them, and it was then, and not
till then, that it became possible for men to be called Bertram Ashburnham or
William Pewse.
From ‘The Hero’ by Lord Raglam, 1936, Ch 2
And what about women? Well, ‘the most popular names’ for the 12th
century look quite unusual to us now. They include (see this list) Edith, Aethelflaete, Alfgyth, Burwenna, Botilda, Annora, Rikilda, Cecily, Godeva,
Ingrid... all much more common than ‘Rosamond’ or ‘Rosmunda’ which turns up only three times between 1206 and 1282. Of course there were unusual names in every
century. I really adore the wonderful Dayluue or ‘Daylove’ [OE *Dæglufu],
which also turns up three times.
In the 13th century (see here) Matilda comes top of the list, followed by Alice, Agnes or Agneta, Edith, Emma,
Margaret, Mabel, Alviva, Isabella or Ysabel, Christiana and Juliana. Most of
these are still common in the 14th and 15th centuries,
but Joan or Johana now joins the list, as do Katherine and Elizabeth.
By the 16th century (see here) Elizabeth seems most popular, along – in diminishing order – with Margaret,
Jane, Agnes, Isabel, Anne, Alice, Katherine, Jennet, Elinor, Margery, Mary,
Dorothy, Ellen, Barbara and Susanna.
Returning briefly to the Fair Rosamund: she was born circa 1148 at Clifford Castle in Herefordshire, became Henry II's mistress probably around 1166, and died in 1176, not yet thirty. Her wikipedia entry calls her Rosamond Clifford, but as Raglan points out, that wouldn't have been how she was known during her life. She was Rosamund, daughter of Walter FitzRichard (aka Walter de Clifford). Her mother was Margaret. And she had two sisters, Lucy and Amice.
Rosamund, Lucy and Amice: Pure Rose, Light, and Friendship... I wonder which parent it was who chose such fancy names for their three beautiful daughters?
Picture credits
Fair Rosamund by Waterhouse, Wikimedia Commons
Fair Rosamund by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Wikimedia Commons
