Sometimes, these Old English names cause a problem, especially when so many people appear to have the same, or similar name. For me, it’s no different from the Williams and Richards of the Anglo-Norman period (apparently, when Henry the Young King (eldest son of Henry II) held his Christmas court in Normandy in 1171, it was said that the guests included no fewer than 110 knights all called William.*) or even the court of Henry VIII where More, Wolsey, Cranmer, Cromwell, Boleyn, Tallis and many others were all called Thomas.
However, the pre-Conquest names are less familiar because they essentially come from another language. Helpfully, though, they are almost always made up of two elements, which are translateable.
If we look at the first elements:
Ælf - this one means elf
Æthel - noble
Cyne - kingly, so - royal
Ead - happy, blessed
God - God
Leof - dear, loved
Mild - gentle, meek
Wulf - Wolf.
And the second elements:
Burh - town (fortified). It has been suggested that it might have been symbolic of the expectation for women to defend them.**
Flæd - beauty
Gifu - gift
Gyth - war
Swith - strong
Thryth - strength
Then we can start to put some names together.
Æthelgifu - noble gift
Leofgifu - beloved gift
Ælfthryth - elf strength
Wulfthryth - wolf strength
And so on.
Along with wulf, it’s clear that the female name elements aren’t all ‘sugar and spice’: burh, thryth, swith and gyth are all quite forceful.
And, like wulf, some elements are used for both female and male names, but they are usually the first element. So ead (happy, blessed) could be used for a king - Eadgar, Eadweard (Edward) or for a king’s wife - Eadgyth (Edith).
After a while, you begin to notice that certain names are male, and certain are female. By and large, the difference lies with the second element. Beorht (bright), ræd (counsel - often presented as red), weard (guardian), frith (peace), wine (friend); these are male name elements.
So it becomes easier to recognise them. If I see a load of Æthel names in a book index, I can skim straight to the female names, ignoring Æthelred, Æthelfrith, Æthelberht, and concentrating on finding Æthelthryth, Æthelflæd or Æthelgifu.
But don’t be thrown by names which look female - they usually aren’t if they end in ‘a’ - such as Anna or Goda, both male names. Any Old English female names ending that way have usually been modernised. Æthelflæd is sometimes presented as Ethelfleda, while Godgifu becomes Godiva. Once you understand that the 'g' in gifu is soft, and that the 'u' is more of an 'a' sound, then Godgifu to Godyifa to Godiva is quite logical.
Of course, as with all periods, certain names were more popular at times than others. In the seventh century, the Æthel element was less commonly used, so that Æthelred of Mercia stands out among his brothers Merewalh, Wulfhere, Peada, and his father Penda (note the male 'a' endings again with those last two).
But get to the late ninth century onwards and the nobility is awash with Æthels and Ælfs. There’s one anomaly and she takes up a large portion of the book. She’s not an Æthel or an Ælf, and her name actually does end in 'a'. Her name was Emma, and she was from Normandy. She married two kings of England, first Æthelred the Unready, and then Cnut. The English though, gave her a new name: Ælfgifu. Of course they did! But at least we can work out what it means!
*Thanks to Charlene Newcomb for this nugget
**Barbara Yorke Æthelflæd Conference, Tamworth 2018
0 Comments