Archive for February, 2012

It’s St David’s Day — Wales’s national day — tomorrow, and to celebrate, it’s Welsh week here at the Nook.

For this week’s pick of the week, therefore, I’ve chosen Daffodil.

The daffodil is well-known as the national flower of Wales, and tomorrow will be worn proudly across the country.

We bought a few bunches of proper Welsh daffodils yesterday and they are now looking very bright and sunny on the kitchen table!

As well as the flower’s connection with Wales, the daffodil is celebrated as one of the symbols of spring par excellence.

Swathes of cheerful daffodils bobbing their heads in the spring sunshine are always an evocative and heartwarming sight after the bleakness of winter.

Indeed, they inspired probably one of the most famous  of all poems about flowers  — William Wordsworth’s “Daffodils”:

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
and twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
in such a jocund company:
I gazed – and gazed – but little thought
what wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

In the language of flowers, the daffodil symbolizes both respect and unrequited love—but it can also stand for vanity and deceit—perhaps because for all its cheery charm, the daffodil is poisonous.

Neverthless, I’ve always been a bit surprised that Daffodil as a name is so rare. Like other flowers, it was first used in the nineteenth century, but for some inexplicable reason simply didn’t grab the limelight, even when the similar Daphne was enjoying its vogue (in the British Isles, at least) in the second quarter of the twentieth century.

But with flower names once more in fashion, and other rarities like Bluebell seeing more use, maybe Daffodil’s day is not far away.

It does have the fetching pet-form Dilly, as well as sharing Daphne’s nick-names Daff, Daffi, Daffie and Daffy.

The daffodil’s original name was actually Affodill — which has distinct potential too — and an old, rather charming variant is Daffodilly. Affodill arose from the medieval Latin afodillus and derives ultimately from the Greek asphodelosAsphodel.

Also known as king’s spear, the asphodel was grown as a garden flower and medicinal herb from at least the Middle Ages.  In the ancient world, it was believed that asphodels grew in the Elysian Fields and were the food of the dead. We know that their roots were certainly eaten by the living poor of Ancient Greece, and the plant was used as a remedy against snake-bites and as a protection from sorcery.

The daffodil’s Pagan connotations don’t stop there. Among modern Pagans, it has become the quintessential flower of the Spring Equinox, and is now particularly associated with the Goddess Eostre.

Some other great names with daffodil associations include:

  • Narcissus — used generally of a related flower, as well as being the botanical name for the genus. In Greek mythology, this was the name of the narcissistic youth who fell in love with his own reflection, and the name was often used as a given name in the classical period. The feminine form, Narcissa — pet-form “Cissy” —  occurs, of course, in Harry Potter as the name of Draco Malfoy’s mother.
  • Jonquil — the name of an old type of daff.
  • Narciso — the Italian, Portuguese and Spanish form of NARCISSUS.
  • Narcys — the Polish form of NARCISSUS.
  • Nargis — the Persian for daffodil, used as a girl’s name in Iran (derives ultimately from Narcissus).
  • Nergis — the Turkish for daffodil, used as a girl’s name in Turkey (also derives ultimately from Narcissus).

What better way to capture the spring in a name, than with Daffodil and friends?

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This Thursday, we’ll be celebrating St David’s Day here in Wales. So to mark the occasion, this week will have an entirely Welsh theme.

Today it overlaps with a name category which has been on my mind a lot recently: the “son” names.

These are most familiar, of course, as names ending in –son itself, or beginning with Mac-

But there is also the Welsh equivalent – ap.

Wales holds the distinction of being the last place in the British Isles where surnames became universally hereditary.

In many parts of the principality where Welsh remained the dominant language, the patronymic system — in which a person was formally known as ap “son of” or ferch “daughter of” — remained common until the nineteenth century.

But across the centuries, the ap also gave rise to hereditary surnames, surviving as an initial “b” or “p.”

And many of these make interesting first name options.

Here then, are the sons of Wales:

  • Barry – ap Harry (although it has a number of other origins too)
  • Beddard, Bedward – ap Edward
  • Bellis, Belliss – ap Ellis
  • Benian, Benyon, Beynon, Baynham, Binyon – ap Einion
  • Bevan, Beven, Beavan, Beaven, Beavon – ap Evan
  • Bowen – ap Owen
  • Breese, Breeze – ap Rhys
  • Brobyn – ap Robin
  • Brodrick, Broderick – ap Rhydderch/Roderick
  • Parry – ap Harry
  • Penry, Pendry – ap Henry
  • Pinyon – ap Einion
  • Pleaden, Pleavin, Pleven, Plevin – ap Blethyn
  • Pluthero — ap Rhydderch/Roderick
  • Pomfrey, Pomphrey – ap Humphrey
  • Powell, Poel – ap Howel
  • Preece, Prees – ap Rhys
  • Price, Pryce, Prise, Pryse – ap Rhys
  • Prichard, Pritchard – ap Richard
  • Probert – ap Robert
  • Probin, Probyn — ap Robin
  • Probus – ap Robert
  • Prodger – ad Roger
  • Prosser – ap Rosser (an old Welsh form of Roger)
  • Prothero, Protheroe – ap Rhydderch/Roderick
  • Prytherick – ap Rhydderch/Roderick
  • Pugh , Pughe – ap Hugh/Huw
  • Upjohn — ap John
  • Uprichard – ap Richard

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As promised, here’s the second part of Welsh Flowers that have great name potential. Pronunciation at the end if you want to sound like you were born and bred in the Land of Song.

  • Gwaedlys — pink persicaria
  • Gwendon — bedstraw
  • Gwenith y gog — figwort
  • Gwenonwy — lily of the valley
  • Gwern — alder
  • Gwlithlys (g-LITH-lis) — sundew
  • Helogan — celery
  • Helygen — willow
  • Helyglys — lesser willowherb
  • Isop— hyssop
  • Lili Mai — lily of the valley
  • Ller — darnel
  • Llin — flax
  • Llwyfen (“LHOO-ee-ven”) – elm
  • Llyriad — broad-leaved plantain
  • Maglys — lucerne
  • Meillion — clover
  • Melenydd — hawkweed
  • Melyn euraidd — golden rod
  • Melyn Mair — marigold
  • Melenllys — greater celandine
  • Merllys — asparagus
  • Merywen — juniper
  • Mesen — acorn
  • Miaren — briar
  • Murlys — wall pellitory
  • Onnen — ash
  • Oren — orange
  • Pabi — poppy
  • Pansi — pansy
  • Pengaled -(pen-GA-led) – knapweed
  • Persli — parsley
  • Pren — tree
  • Pren Ceri — medlar tree
  • Pren Eirin — plum tree
  • Rhedyn — fern
  • Rhos Mair — Rosemary
  • Rhosmari (ros-MA-ree) — Rosemary
  • Rhosyn — rose
  • Saets — sage
  • Safri — savoury
  • Serenyn — squill
  • Siasmin — jasmine
  • Suran — common sorrel
  • Syfi — strawberries
  • Syfien — strawberry
  • Taglys — field bindweed
  • Tansi — tansy
  • Tegeirian (te-GAY-ree-an) — orchid
  • Teim — thyme
  • Tormaen — golden saxifrage
  • Tresi Aur — laburnum
  • Trilliw (TRI-lhee-oo) — pansy
  • Trydon — agrimony
  • Ywen — yew

Pronunciation notes:

  • “ae,” “ai,” “au,” and “eu” pronounced “eye”
  • “c” always hard, as in “cat”
  • “e” pronounced like “e” in “bet,” “set,” etc
  • “ei” pronounced “ay”
  • “f” ipronounced “v”
  • “ff” pronounced “f”
  • “g” always hard, as in “get”
  • “ll” see Extreme Welsh Names
  • “s” always “s,” never “z”; often “sh” before an “i”
  • “th” pronounced like the “th” in “thistle”
  • “y” in the last syllable is pronounced “i” as in “in”, but in most other syllables, is pronounced “uh.”

(In words of two syllables, stress is divided equally. In words of three, stress usually falls on the first syllable, unless otherwise stated.)

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Part 2 of English surnames beginning with “s” of Old English, Old Norse and Old French origin.

  • Seaber — from the Old English girl’s name Sæburg “sea-fortress”. Over variants include Sebry, Sibary, Siberry, Sibree and the rather dashing Saber.
  • Seabert, Seabright, Sibert — from the Old English boy’s name Sæbeorht “sea-bright.”
  • Seaborn — from the Old English boy’s name Sæbeorn “sea-bear”; beorn was also used to mean “warrior.”
  • Seader — Old English sǣdere “sower.”
  • Seagram — Old English “sea” + grom “servant”; i.e. a sailor
  • Sealeaf — from the Old English girl’s name *Sæleofu “sea-love.”
  • Sealer — Middle English seler “seal-maker.”
  • Sealey, Seeley — Old English sǣlig “happy,” and “blessed.” Used as a nickname, and a girl’s name — medieval forms of this include Sela and Sely. This is also the source of English Seelie, used of “the Seelie Court,” i.e. benevolent fairies.
  • Seamer — partly from the Old English boy’s name Sæmær “sea-famous,” partly from one of the places of the name (Old English sǣ “sea” and “lake” + mere “pool”) and partly Old English sēamere “tailor.”
  • Searle — from the Norman name Serlo: Old German Sarilo, Old Norse Sǫrli, a short form of names begining with saro “armor,” “protection.”
  • Seavers — from the Old English girl’s name *Sæfaru “sea-voyage.”
  • Sedger — from Old English secg “sedge,” probably used of some-one who cut sedge, principally used for thatching.
  • Sedley — from Sidley Green, Sussex. Probably Old English sīd “broad” + lēah “wood,” “woodland clearing,” “glade,” “pasture” and “meadow.”
  • Sefton —  from Sefton, Lancashire. Old Norse sef “rush” + tūn “enclosure,” “farmstead,” “estate,” “manor,” “village.”
  • Selby — from Selby, Yorkshire. Old Norse selja “sallow-tree” + “farmstead,” “village” and “settlement.”
  • Sellis — from Old English sealh “willow,” used of someone who dwelt by willows.
  • Semmence — a variant of Simmonds, itself from the Old Norse Sigmundr “victory-protection” and its Old German cognate Sigmund.
  • Semper — from one of the places called Saint-Pierre in France (in Latin, semper also means “always”)
  • Sendell — from Middle English sendal, a type of silk fabric.
  • Senneck — from Sevenoaks, Kent; “senneck” is the old pronunciation of the town. Old English seofon “seven” + ac “oak” — an ancient name which may hint at what was once a sacred grove of the Druids.
  • Senter — Old French saintier “bell-maker.”
  • Serrick — from the Old English boy’s name Særic “sea-ruler.”
  • Sevier, Sevyer — Middle English siviere “sieve-maker.”
  • Sewall — from the Old English boy’s name Sæweald “sea-power.”
  • Seward — from the Old English boys’ names Sæweard “sea-protection” and Sigeweard “victory-protection.”
  • Sewell — partly from the Old English boy’s name Sigeweald “victory-power,” or its Norse cognate Sigvaldr, and partly from Seawell, Northamptonshire or Sewall, Bedfordshire. Old English sǣ “sea” and “pool” + wella “spring” and “stream.”
  • Seyler — a variant of Saylor.
  • Seyner — Old French seignour “lord,” from Latin senior “older.”
  • Shafto — from Shaftoe, Northumberland. Old English sceaft “pole” + hōh “hill-spur.”
  • Shapler — Old French chapelier “hat-maker.”
  • Sharparrow — Old English scearp “sharp” + arwe “arrow”; probably a nickname for a skilled archer.
  • Sharrah, Sharrow — from Sharrow, Yorkshire. Old English scearu “boundary” + hōh “hill-spur.”
  • Shayle — Middle English schayle “to stumble” and “to shamble.”
  • Shayler — essentially a variant of SHAYLE.
  • Shearer — Middle English scherer “reaper” or “(sheep)-shearer”
  • Shenley — from one of the places of the name. Old English scēne “bright” and “beautiful” + lēah “wood,” “woodland clearing,” “glade,” “pasture” and “meadow.”
  • Shenston — from Shenstone, Staffordshire. Old English scēne “bright” and “beautiful”  + stān “stone.”
  • Sheraton —  from Sheraton, Durham. Old Norse byname Skurfa “scurfy” + Old English tūn “enclosure,” “farmstead,” “estate,” “manor,” “village.”
  • Shercliffe — from Shirecliff, Yorkshire. Old English scīr “bright” + clif “cliff” or “slope.”
  • Shillito — a curious Yorkshire surname of uncertain etymology. It probably comes from a lost Yorkshire village. The last element is probably hōh “hill-spur.”
  • Shilton — from one of the places of the name. Old English scylf(e) “shelf” + tūn “enclosure,” “farmstead,” “estate,” “manor,” “village.”
  • Shipley, Shiplee — from one of the places of the name. Old English scēap “sheep” + lēah “wood,” “woodland clearing,” “glade,” “pasture” and “meadow.”
  • Shipton —  from one of the places of the name. Old English scēap “sheep” + tūn “enclosure,” “farmstead,” “estate,” “manor,” “village.”
  • Shirland — from Shirland, Derbyshire, or Sheerland, Kent. Old English scīr “bright” + land “land” or Old Norse lundr “grove.”
  • Shooter — Middle English scotere “shooter” and “archer.”
  • Shorey — Middle English schore “shore” + Old English ēg “island,” probably used of someone who lived on an island near the shore.
  • Shotton — from one of the places of the name. Old English *scēot “slope” or Scot “Scot” + tūn “enclosure,” “farmstead,” “estate,” “manor,” “village.”
  • Shute — from Old English *scīete “corner/angle of land.”

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It wouldn’t surprise me if the idea of changing our names has crossed the mind of most of us in the English-speaking world at some point in our lives.

Far fewer of us actually go through with it.

I think that’s a shame. If you feel your name doesn’t reflect who you are, if you feel you would be happier called something else, for whatever reason, do it. Take the plunge, and change your name.

Recently, I was contacted by a woman intending to do just that.

She has one of most popular names of her generation, and wants something “less ubiquitous” than her birth name.

These are her criteria:

  1. 3 syllables
  2. No ‘-a’ ending
  3. Some connection to history and/or mythology
  4. Meanings: “poetic and somewhat unexpected”
  5. Style: “eccentric aristocrat”
  6. Not too similar to well-known names to avoid confusion
  7. Not too associated with a popular work of fiction, such as Harry Potter

The names she currently has under consideration:

  • Genevieve
  • Clementine
  • Seraphine
  • Gwendolen
  • Guinevere
  • Beatrix

She writes:

The only name I have left on my list, after ruling out Seraphine for possibly blending in with the Sarahs, Clementine because I can only picture it on a young girl, Genevieve because I am not that into the meaning, is Gwendolen. However; I keep coming back to Guinevere! I like the sound more than Gwendolen, but I’m worried that the name Guinevere is hard to carry because in the myths. To an audience that doesn’t know any better, she is an adulterer.

I have to say, I really wouldn’t fret so much about the adultery issue. It certainly isn’t the first thing that springs to mind when I think Guinevere, and I don’t think it’s the first thing people think of generally when they hear the name. It’s not as though in the myths she is a serial adulteress!

It’s also worth remembering that the legends owe a lot to the culture of late medieval society, in which marriages were arranged, not love-matches, and the theme of romantic liaisons between women and handsome knights other than their husbands acted as a kind of fantasy escapism.

On a deeper level too, the Arthur-Lancelot-Guinevere love triangle can be viewed as a version of the conflict of the Oak and Holly Kings (also sometimes called the Summer and Winter Kings) and their union with the Goddess – the May Queen.  This love triangle is a recurring theme in Celtic mythology.

But if it remains a stumbling block, Gwendolen is certainly a good alternative. The etymology isn’t a hundred percent certain; while the first element is almost certainly the same Welsh gwyn of Guinevere, meaning “white,” “pure,” and “blessed,” the second is a little less uncertain. The earliest known form is Gwenddoleu, but this may have been was a mis-reading of “u” for “n.” The options are the Welsh dolen “loop,” “link,” and “ring,” or dolau “meadows.” According to Geoffrey of Monmouth writing in the twelfth century, it was the name of Merlin’s wife.

I think both Gwendolen and Guinevere are stunning choices, but I do have some other suggestions:

  • Adelaide – “noble-sort”; if it’s a bit too mainstream, there’s also the medieval variant Adeliz
  • Anchoret – a curious medieval name, probably from the Welsh Angharad “my love,” a name borne by numerous medieval Welsh princesses.
  • Averil – a vernacular form of EVERILD; it survived for centuries in Yorkshire
  • Betony
  • Celestine – English form of Latin Celestinus, from caelestis “heavenly”
  • Ceridwen
  • Corisande — A name principally of medieval romance.  The etymology is uncertain; the first element is likely intended to be the Latin cor “heart.” The second may very possibly be a contracted form of Latin sanandus “healing, ” from sano “to heal.”
  • Everild — one of my life-long favorites. The meaning — “boar-battle” — might be a bit off-putting at first, but it’s worth remembering what boars meant to the ancient peoples who first used the name. They are associated with more than one deity, and to the Celts symbolized royalty and strength
  • Gwenllian
  • Ingaret – a variant of ANCHORET
  • Kilmeny – Made famous by James Hogg’s poem about the “uncanny maid” who spent seven years in Elfland. It also featured in Lucy Maud
    Montgomery’s Kilmeny of the Orchard (1910). The name was taken from a small village on Islay in Scotland, meaning “monastery church,” “owl church,” or “my Eithne’s church”
  • Leceline – a medieval form of Letitia “happiness”
  • Lorelei — the name of a siren-like nymph or Goddess who is said to lure sailors to their deaths from a rock overlooking the River Rhine. I have a feeling the associations here will cause it to be rejected, but I think it’s still worth a consideration. No doubting Lorelei’s girl-power! The meaning isn’t entirely certain; the second element is from a Celtic root meaning “rock” while the first might be from Old German words meaning “to whisper,” “to lure” or “to watch out”
  • Marjolaine — the French form of marjoram, though it was also used in England in the Middle Ages. Used as a name from the nineteenth century, it still carries all marjoram’s pleasing associations with protection and love
  • Merewen
  • Mirabel — medieval name, from mirabilis  “wonderful,” “marvelous,” “amazing,” “strange,” and “extraordinary”
  • Muriel — an ancient Celtic name, going back to the Common Celtic *mori- “sea” + *gelwo– “yellow” and “white.” In Ireland, this
    became gel which carried the additional meanings of “fair” and “shining.” Another nice variant is Meriel
  • Nephele — meaning “cloud” in Greek, Nephele was the name of a semidivine woman in Greek mythology, fashioned out of the clouds by Zeus. 
  • Nimue — a variant of NINIANE. Used in some versions of the Arthurian cycles as the name of Merlin’s lover
  • Niniane — the Lady of the Lake, probably deriving ultimately from the Common Celtic *nino– “ash.”
  • Opaline — both an English adjective meaning “like an opal,” and a medieval variant of Apollonia “belonging to Apollo”
  • Ottilie – probably the most familiar form today of the medieval Odilia/Odile, from the Old German: uod “wealth” and “riches.” St. Odilia of Cologne was reputed to have been the daughter of a king of Britain and one of the virgins who accompanied St. Ursula, while the late seventh-/early eighth-century St. Odile of Alsace was allegedly a blind daughter of the Duke of Alsace, whose sight was miraculously restored by St. Erhard of Regensburg
  • Ottoline — a diminutive form of OTTILIE. A famous bearer was Lady Ottoline Morrell (1873–1938)
  • Perenelle — a medieval form of Petronilla, the name of a popular medieval saint. It derives ultimately from the Latin petra “rock” and “crag”
  • Sabeline — a medieval diminutive of Sibylla “sibyl,” and “prophetess”
  • Thermuthis — the name given in the first century by the Roman writer Josephus to the daughter of the pharaoh who allegedly adopted Moses. Its origins are not clear, but if genuinely Egyptian, it may be a corruption of the Egyptian name Thutmose “born of Thoth”
  • Verity — one of the abstract nouns first used as a given name by the Puritans in the seventeenth century
  • Zephyrine — the French form of Zephyrina, ultimately from Zephyr, the name of the Greek God of the West Wind.

Some of the names I suggested as names for the twin siblings of a little boy called Peregrine also fit the bill: Amabel, Christabel, Clemency, Emmeline, Ianthe, Imogen, Jessamy, Oenone and Rosamund.

Over to you!

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It’s really quite surprisingly how many names in the UK and US top 100 have Pagan roots when you start to dig below the surface.

Take Genesis, currently ranked 89th in America.

Most of its use is no doubt Christian, an adoption of the name of the first book of the Bible, a name which was first applied to the Vulgate — the Latin translation of the Hebrew Bible commissioned in the fourth century when Christianity was adopted as the state religion of the Roman Empire.

In Hebrew, it was known as Bere’šyt meaning “in (the) beginning” — the opening words of the book.

The Greek genesis was chosen for the translation.

It’s a noun which comes from the verb gignomai  meaning “to come into a being,” and thus “to be born,” “to begin” and “to become.”

Thus in its most basic sense, genesis means “origin” and “source” as well as “beginning.”

It carried a number of other senses such as “race,” “descent,” “generation,” and “age.”

It also meant “birth,” and was used in astrological language to mean “(birth-calculated) horoscope” and, by extension “lot” and “fortune” too.

Later, it passed into Latin with similar meanings, and also came to be used of a person’s natal-star.

Genesis also features as an element in a number of compound words.

One of my favorites has to be parthenogenesis, which combines it with the Greek parthenos “maiden.” This is a biological term used of reproduction from a gamete without fertilization, a process which occurs mostly in invertibrates and some plants.

Even the Oxford English Dictionary makes reference to one of this word’s most famous outings — in the 1973 cult classic The Wicker Man.

It gets its mention when Edward Woodward is paying Lord Sumerisle a visit at his stately pile and witnesses the village girls conducting a Pagan ritual at the stone circle in the hope of experiencing parthenogenesis for themselves.

Needless to say, Edward isn’t impressed.

Genesis is also a close relation through the Greek and its Latin cognates of many other words relating to birth, beginnings and descent, such as “genes,” “genetics,” “generation,” “generate,” “genus,” “genuine,” “general,” “generous,” “generic,” “genial,” “genius,” “gender” … the list goes on and on.

Not to mention quite a cool rock band.

It has also featured in the title of many a book or comic, film or TV show.

My favorite has to be Doctor Who’s Genesis of the Daleks.

Related elements can be found in other names too, such as Eugene.

So you see, there’s a great deal more to Genesis than just the title of a book of the Bible — with plenty to please a Pagan. 🙂

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This week’s pick of the week takes us on a journey in time and space.

The enticing Jenico.

Jenico is an old form of Ignatius which originated in Provence in medieval times.

It arrived in the English-speaking world in the fifteenth century, when a daughter of Jenico d’Artois  married the Anglo-Irish aristocrat. Christopher Preston.

Jenico has been used ever since, particularly in the Preston family. They later became Viscounts of Gormanston.

One bearer, Jenico, 7th Viscount Gormanston, was a supporter of King James II. He was made an outlaw after James lost his crown to William and Mary.

A later, more respectable Jenico, Lord Gormanston was Governor of Tasmania.

Ignatius itself goes back to the days of Ancient Rome.

The original form was actually Egnatius. This is thought to be Etruscan in origin — and its original meaning is unknown.

It became Ignatius when it passed into Latin through association with ignis “fire.”

Thanks to an early saint of the name, Ignatius  passed into general use in Catholic and Orthodox lands, and in due course developed many a variant form as it spread across Europe, such as the Croatian Ignac, Hungarian Ignác, French Ignace, Polish Ignacy, Dutch Ignaas, Lithuanian Ignas, German Ignatz, Italian Ignazio, and Portuguese Inácio.

It settled particularly well in Spain, usually in the forms Ignacio and Iñigo.

Ignatius de Loyola, founder of the Jesuits, was responsible for the further spread of the name among Catholics.

One was the Welsh architect, Inigo Jones (1573–1652). He was named after his father and, although today is always known as Inigo, he actually signed himself with another variant, Enego.

Probably his most famous works are the Queen’s House at Greenwich, and the Bauqeting House in Whitehall, London.

In America, it is the Spanish form Ignacio which sees the most use, while Inigo is the most popular form in the UK — not that that’s very much, as it is far from common.

Jenico is rarer and more unusual still, a great name in itself — as well as shortening rather nicely to Nico.

With conteporary zing, but plenty history and substance, Jenico is a name really on fire!

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