Posts Tagged ‘Adelaide’

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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Small Child has asked me to share with you the names she chose for her pet fish.

They’re actually quite good, if I say so myself, so stick with me :).

All of last year, she kept asking for some pet fish for her birthday; I was reluctant, as we often go off traveling (as you may have guesed by now, if you’ve been popping by for a while — I blame my Romany blood).

But, having looked into it, and talked it over with fish-owning friends, we decided it would be possible, and, for her birthday, she got her first four fishies.

Four cheerful little danios.

And their names?

Amber, Ruby, Cordelia and Zoe.

Ruby has long been one of her favorites; it is why I featured it as a Pagan Name of the Month towards the end of last year. It does rather suit the little leopard Danio upon which Small Child has bestowed it.

Amber is, of course, another “precious stone” name. It didn’t really take off when precious stones were first embraced at the end of the nineteenth century, but prominent exposures through Mary Webb’s 1920 novel The House in Dormer Forest, and Kathleen Winsor’s Forever Amber, not to mention the feminist and writer Amber Reeves (1887-1981) all served to raise the name’s profile in Britain during the course of the twentieth century, and it reached the thirty-first spot in the UK in 1998. Last year it was 52nd. In America, Amber’s peak was a decade before in 1986 and in 13th spot. Now she’s down in the early 200s, and dropping fast, dropped in the “dated” sin-bin. If you can see past that “dated” label, though, I think Amber still has much to offer — and not just for orange danios!

Zoe, with her well-known meaning of “life” in Greek, is an interesting one. It’s been in the UK top 100 since the 70s, rising and falling, rising and falling, making it remarkably tenacious. It remained under the radar in the US until relatively recently but is currently climbing fast, being 31st in 2010.

Cordelia is virtually identical to Zoe — the fish. The name is, of course, quite different. It almost certainly derives from the Welsh Creuddylad, though is often linked with Latin Cordula “little heart.” One of Small Child’s friends is a Cordelia, which is where she acquired the name.

A fortnight ago, Amber, Ruby, Cordelia and Zoe were joined by four new friends, two cold-water platies, and two ghost shrimp. Their names?

Florrie, Kitty, Sylvanian and Heidi

Florrie the Platy is named after one of the ghosts of the Red Lion Pub in Avebury, where we had lunch one day during our recent trip to Somerset. Small Child likes ghost stories and took a shine to Florrie’s tragic tale; she was said to have been murdered by a jealous husband who came home from the English Civil War to find her in the arms of another. He threw her body down the well, the top of which now has a glass top and serves as a table (where we ate!).  Florrie is one of the pet-forms of the very “now” Florence — and also of Flora.

Kitty the Platy, I’m sorry to say, is named after Hello Kitty, but it’s still a charming old pet-form of Katherine. It’s a rarity in America, and seen more in the UK, often as a pet-form of Katherine, but also in her own right, coming in in 418th place in 2010.

Sylvanian, the Ghost Shrimp, may seem a curious choice to Americans, but I’m sure British readers can guess the source — Sylvanians Families (called Calico Critters in America). They are her great obsession at the moment. The land of Sylvania was probably inspired by the likes of Transylvania and Pennsylvania, coming from the Latin silvus “forest.”

Heidi. Last month, I wrote about homophony, and Heidi’s name is a great example of it in action. Originally, both of Small Child’s ghost shrimps were going to be called Sylvanian, as we didn’t think we’d be able to tell them apart. But when they arrived, one immediately seemed more shy, and went to hide under the filter. It was also clearly smaller, so we realized we could tell them apart after all. Thus, the “hide-y” one became Heidi. Heidi, a German pet-form of Adelheid (Adelaide), owes its popularity in the past not so much to Joanna Spyri’s novel, but the Shirley Temple film of 1937. It was in the top 100 in the seventies and still has much charm; with the rise in interest in Adelaide, maybe Heidi will also make a come-back?

So there you are, Small Child’s eight little friends. A well-named watery sibset, I hope you agree!

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Last Friday, I speculated on the names of the first child of William and Kate, and, inevitably, Victoria was high on the list.

It is a little ironic that Victoria would now be considered a very traditional and conventional choice for a royal baby.

That wasn’t true when Victoria was named; Victoria — Latin for “victory” — was a rare name in Britain at the time, although it had been in use since the sixteenth century, one of the names plucked from Classical Antiquity. For to the Romans, Victoria was the personification of victory, and worshipped as a Goddess.

Why did Victoria receive such a name? Because that’s what her mother was called. She was Marie Louise Viktoria of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfield.

It wasn’t actually Queen Victoria’s first name, either. That was Alexandrina, after Tsar Alexander I of Russia.

Something else that is mildly ironic is the fact that since Victoria died, only one member of the royal family has received a name which had not been previously borne by a prince or princess of England or the United Kingdom — and that is Andrew. Yet Victoria herself actually made quite a point of breaking with tradition in the naming of her own children.

And her family makes a most interesting sibset.

Oldest of Queen Vicky’s children, born in 1840, was the Princess Royal, Victoria Adelaide Mary Louisa. Victoria was not just in honor of the Queen, but also the Queen’s mother, who was one of the little princess’s godmothers — the others being Adelaide, the wife of Victoria’s uncle, King William IV, and Mary, Duchess of Gloucester, one of the daughters of King George III. Louisa was the name of Prince Albert’s mother. Princess Victoria married Kaiser Friedrich III in 1858, and was the mother of Kaiser Wilhelm II. She died aged only 48, in 1888.

Second was Albert Edward, born in 1841, who ruled as King Edward VII. In naming the heir to the throne such, Victoria caused quite a stir at the prospect of a future King Albert. That had, indeed, been Victoria’s wish; Edward himself chose to rule as Edward upon his succession. He was named after his father, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, and Victoria’s father, Edward, Duke of Kent, who had died when she was only a baby.

The third child was the tragic Princess Alice, later Grand Duchess of Hesse, whose full name was Alice Maud Mary. Alice, like Albert, had never been borne by a member of the Royal Family before. It is said it was suggested by the Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, who was close to Victoria. Likewise Maud was also a break with tradition, demonstrating Victoria’s medieval tastes, though it was a nod to one of Princess Alice’s godparents, Princess Sophia Matilda of Gloucester (Maud, as most folk know, being a medieval form of Matilda). She was born in 1843, and died in 1878, aged just 35, of diptheria, a month after her four year old daughter had also died of the disease.

Her family was particularly ill-fated; her two-year-old son had died a few years earlier after a fall from a window, while two of her daughters died in the Russian Revolution. Alix (later the Tsarina Alexandra) was famously shot with her family in a basement in 1917. Elizabeth, who married Grand Duke Sergei of Russia, was brutally murdered in 1918 along with other members of the imperial family. They were thrown down a mineshaft, grenades thrown in after them, and left to die.

Fourth of Queen Victoria’s children was Alfred Ernest Albert, later Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. Known as Affie, he was the second British prince to be called Alfred since the time of King Alfred; the first was one of the younger sons of King George III. He had died in infancy. Ernest was another new name in the British royal family — an import from Germany. It was the name of Prince Albert’s brother. Alfred was born in 1844, and died in 1900.

Queen Victoria’s fifth child was Princess Helena, later Princess Christian of Schleswig-Holstein. Born in 1846, her full name was Helena Augusta Victoria. Helena was another new name for the royal family; she was named after one of her godparents, Hélène, Duchess of Orleans. Augusta was likewise in honor of a godparent, Augusta, Duchess of Cambridge. Princess Helena lived to quite a good age, dying in 1923 at the age of 77.

Sixth of Queen Victoria’s progeny was Princess Louise, later Duchess of Argyll. Born in 1848, her full, correct name was Louisa Caroline Alberta. Though baptised Louisa, she was always known as Louise. Caroline had been the name of King George IV’s estranged wife, and Alberta was, of course, in honor of her father. She lived to the ripe old age of 91, dying in Kensington Palace in 1939.

The Seventh child was Prince Arthur, later Duke of Connaught and Strathearn. He was born in 1850, and also lived to be 91, dying in 1942. His full name was Arthur William Patrick Albert. Arthur was very much a choice in line with Victorian fashion, and its love of all things Arthurian. He wasn’t the first prince to bear the name — but it had been a long time since the last: Arthur, Prince of Wales, the oldest son of King Henry VII, who died aged 15 in 1502. One of the Duke of Connaught’s godparents, however, was the Duke of Wellington, whose name was, surprise surprise — Arthur. He also shared the prince’s birthday. The choice of William was in honor of both King William IV and another of Prince Arthur’s godparents, Wilhelm, then Crown Prince of Prussia, and later Kaiser Wilhelm I (he later became the Princess Royal’s father-in-law). No British prince had ever been called Patrick before, and its choice was in homage to Ireland — it was no coincidence Prince Arthur was made Duke of Connaught.

Prince Leopold was the penultimate child; later made Duke of Albany, his full name was Leopold George Duncan Albert. Leopold, another new name in the royal family tree, was in honor of the King of Belgium, whose first wife was Princess Charlotte of Wales, daughter and heiress of King George IV, whose death in childbirth led to King George’s unmarried sons scrambling to marry and produce a new heir to the throne (which led to Queen Victoria’s birth). Leopold also happened to be the uncle of both Victoria and Albert; Victoria’s mother was his sister, and Albert’s father was his brother.  George was actually in honor of his godfather, King George V of Hanover, grandson of King George III. Leopold received the name Duncan in the same way Arthur acquired Patrick; the Dukedom of Albany had once been borne by heirs to the throne of Scotland. Leopold had the shortest life of all Victoria’s children; he was a haemophiliac and may also have epilepsy. He died in 1884, aged 30.

The youngest of Queen Victoria’s children was Beatrice Mary Victoria Feodore, later Princess Henry of Battenberg. Beatrice was yet another name new to the royal family — as was Feodore. Mary was once more in honor of Mary, Duchess of Cambridge, and Feodore was after Victoria’s older half-sister, Anna Feodora of Leiningen. Feodore is one way in which the Russian form of Theodora is transliterated into the Latin alphabet from the Cyrillic. Beatrice was born in 1859, and lived to be 87. She was the last of Victoria’s children to die, passing on in 1944.

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Yesterday, I gazed into my crystal ball (a.k.a. the American SSA’s Popular Baby Name website), and predicted what boys’ names will be in the top 10 in 2035.

They were:

  1. Lucas
  2. Judah
  3. Jacob
  4. Rafferty
  5. Elijah
  6. Owen
  7. Silas
  8. William
  9. Indigo
  10. Joseph

My method is simple. How were today’s top ten ranked in 1985? And what names occupied those spots in 2010?

Today’s top ten girls’ names were ranked as follows in 1985:

  1. Isabella: Unranked (only 34 girls received the name in 1985)
  2. Sophia: 236 (in slight decline in 1985, though generally rising)
  3. Emma: 267 (rising)
  4. Olivia: 248 (in decline — but started to rise again in 1986)
  5. Ava: Unranked (only 132 girls called Ava in 1984, but it re-entered the charts again in 1986)
  6. Emily: 24 (rising rapidly)
  7. Abigail: 153 (rising)
  8. Madison: 628 (its first appearance in the rankings, prompted by the 1984 film Splash)
  9. Chloe: 564 (rising)
  10. Mia: 438 (rising)

And their 2035 replacements look like this (with a bit of tweaking)

  1. HERMIONE. Many people are pretty amazed to find out that not only was today’s darling Isabella not in the top 1000 in 1985, but only 34 baby girls were given the name at all. There were some interesting names in the same place in 2010, including Ara, Empress, Indiana, Mathilda, Saba, Wisdom and Zamora, but I can’t see any making the top 10 (Mathilda’s big sister Matilda might, but she is in the top 1000). There are one or two interesting possibilities among the names given to 35 little girls, such as Clarice, Lavinia and Polly; while another old classic Ursula was borne by only 32 girls in 2010, but it is lovely Hermione, given to only 37 baby girls in 2010 that gets my vote. I can’t help thinking it’s only a matter of time that the USA finally embraces her, and that she’s the one to watch from the bottom of this barrel.
  2. ELIZA. Jayda occupies the present 236th slot, but although she may rise quite high, I think her time in the sun will be over by 2035. Nearby, however, Eliza (240) is rising.
  3. ESTHER  is 267. She’s been away in the wilderness a while, but I think the tide is turning in her favor now.
  4. HARMONY. Ranked 248th is Cassidy, but she’s in decline. Harmony, however, is 249th, and rising…
  5. CLEMENTINE — 132 little girls were called Clementine in 2010. This beauty vanished from the top 1000 in 1953; in 1994, less than three girls received the name (if any at all), but since then, the numbers have generally been increasing.
  6. LEAH is 24. Like her predecessor Emily was, twenty-five years ago, she’s steadily rising. Will she have made the top ten by 2035? Perhaps.
  7. DAISY. Actually ranked 151 in 2010; 153rd was Makenzie, which is in decline and pretty unlikely to be in 6th place in 2035 now. Popular in the UK, Daisy, however, is on the rise again. Another possibility from the 150s is Vivian (158).
  8. ANNABEL is 628. She re-entered the top 1000 in 2000 and might well go places.
  9. ROSA is 564. She’s at her lowest yet, but surely the time is ripe now for her fortunes to change? They have already in Britain.
  10. ADELAIDE. In the 438th spot is Kadence, a doubtful top ten contender for 2035. Adelaide (434), however, is rocketing up the charts. Another possibility is Helen, languishing in the 437th spot. Its a long time now since she was in favor, and perhaps its her time to shine once more?

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For the last month, I have been in France — for much of that time, in Provence.

It is a region with a much deserved reputation for spectacular scenery and picturesque villages. In the region where we stayed, these clung as though by magic to impossibly steep hillsides gazing idly down dramatic gorges, draped in pines, evergreen oaks, olives and vines.

It is also an exceedingly historic region, always set a bit apart from the rest of France. Once, the people didn’t even spoke French, but Provençal, a dialect of Occitan — a language closer to Catalan than to French — although Provençal is sometimes used to refer to Occitan in general, and the langue d’Oc of medieval troubadours.

Unsurprisingly, it has a whole collection of names and variants of names unique to the region.

And it was in Provence that names like Isabella and Eleanor first arose.

During our stay, I kept my ears open, but was disappointed that, by and large, the names I encountered — particularly among the children — were little different to the rest of France. The fashion in France at present is for names of foreign origin, and the favored region for more unusual native monikers is Brittany.

But we did encounter some, especially among my own generation.

I love the fact so many Provençal girls names end in -o; it makes a refreshing change, and is very contemporary.

Here is a selection of my personal favorites. Some, like Zouè, are relatively recent — others, like Azalaïs, are medieval.


  • AgatoAgatha
  • Aïs — diminutive of ANAÏS and/or ALAÏS
  • AlaïsAlice (features in Kate Mosse’s 2005 novel Labyrinth); ultimately from Adelaide
  • AlienorEleanor
  • Anaïs — in Provence, used as a form of Anne or Agnes — not actually found prior to the nineteenth century
  • Anetoun — a double diminutive form of Ano (Anne)
  • AzalaïsAdelaide (Alice)
  • Babeleto — diminutive of Eisabèu/Isabèu (Elizabeth/Isabella)
  • BergidoBirgitte
  • Bielo — diminutive of Gabrielo (Gabrielle)
  • BregidoBridget
  • CelinoCeline
  • Chantaloun — diminutive of French Chantal
  • Clareto, Claroun — diminutives of Claro
  • ClaroClare/Claire
  • CloutildouClotilda
  • Delaïdo — diminutive of Adelaïdo (Adelaide)
  • Eliso — diminutive of French Élisabeth (Elizabeth)
  • EstefanoStephanie
  • Fanfan — probably a diminutive of ESTEFANO. Made fairly well-known (at least in France) by the 1952 film Fanfan la tulipe (remade in 2003) — in which Fanfan is a man — and Alexandre Jardin’s 1985 novel Fanfan, filmed in 1993.
  • Fino — diminutive of Delfino (Delphine) and/or JÒUSEFINO
  • FlourFlora/Fleur
  • GlaudioClaudia
  • IoulandoYolande
  • Janetoun — double diminutive of Jano (Jane/Jeanne)
  • JòusefinoJosephine (the name of our villa’s housekeeper!)
  • Jóuselet — variant/diminutive of JÒUSEFINO
  • Laïdo — diminutive of DELAÏDO
  • Lali, Lalìo — diminutives of Eulalìo (Eulalia/Eulalie)
  • Laloun — diminutive of LALI
  • Lìo — diminutive of names ending in -lìo, such as Eulalìo (Eulalia/Eulalie), Natalìo (Natalie), Rosalìo (Rosalie)
  • Lisoun — diminutive of ELISO
  • Lodi, Loudi — diminutive of Eloudìo (Elodie)
  • Madaloun — diminutive of Madaleno (Madeline)
  • Magali, Magari — probably Magaret, but possibly a variant of Madaleno (Madeline — from the original Magdalene)
  • Maïoun — diminutive of Marìo (Mary/Marie)
  • Marioun — diminutive of Marìo (Mary/Marie)
  • MelioEmilia
  • Mirèio — coined by the poet Frederic Mistral for his poem Mirèio (1859). From the Occitan mirar “to admire.”
  • Naïs — diminutive of ANAÏS
  • Ninoun — pet-form of Catarino (Katherine)
  • Rieto — pet-form of Enrieto (Henrietta)
  • RosoRose
  • SoufioSophia/Sophie
  • SoulanjoSolange
  • Talìo — diminutive of Natalìo (Natalie)
  • Teldou, Tildeto — diminutives of names containing –tild– or –teld-, like CLOUTILDOU
  • VitòriVictoria
  • ValorìValeria/Valerie
  • Zeto, Zetou — diminutives of JÒUSEFINO
  • Zouè Zoe


  • Amiel – said to be the Provençal form of French Emile
  • AudouardEdward
  • BartoumiéuBartholomew
  • BerenguiéBerenger
  • Calendau — from the Latin kalends, used of the first day of a month and, in Provence, for Christmas Day.  The hero of Mistral’s poem Calendau (1867)
  • CharleCharles
  • Charloun — diminutive of CHARLE
  • Ciprianet — diminutive of Ciprian (Cyprian)
  • DàviDavid
  • Deri — diminutive of Frederi/Federi (Frederick)
  • Dovi — dimunituve of Ludovi (Ludovick/Louis)
  • Estève, EstièneStephen
  • GabrieùGabriel
  • Glaude, GlàudiClaude, Claudius
  • JaufretGeoffrey
  • Jaume James
  • JòrgiGeorge
  • LuLuke
  • Luquet — pet-form of LU
  • Maïus — curious name of uncertain origin. In use in Provence since at least the late nineteenth century. Possibly conceived as a masculine form of MAÏOUN.
  • MasMax
  • MiquèuMichael
  • OuliviéOliver
  • PascauPascal
  • PèirePeter/Pierre
  • Pierroun — diminutive of French Pierre
  • RafèuRaphael
  • RoubinRobin (yes, the English Robin — one of the foreign names embraced by the French in the twentieth century)
  • Savié — probably Xavier, but possibly Savior (best known as a name in the Spanish form Salvador)
  • SilvanSilvanus
  • SimounSimon
  • TeoudorTheodore
  • Titoù – Either Titus or a diminutive of Batit (Baptist)
  • Titoun — diminutive of TITOÙ
  • ToumasThomas
  • Ugue, UguesHugh
  • VincènVincent
  • VitourVictor
  • Zavié — variant of SAVIÉ
  • — diminutive of Joùseù (Joseph)

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