The 12 Most Astonishingly Bad Puritan Names, Ranked

A cautionary tale for prospective parents who just can't quit the "Fly-Fornication" page in the Baby Names book

Interior with Three Puritans, via The British Museum (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

The puritans had a lot of great ideas — putting a belt on your hat, trendy bowl cuts, going to America, etc. — but they also had some pretty bad ones, like predestination and how to name children. In regards to this latter failing, the definitive text is a little book called Curiosities of Puritan Nomenclature, published in 1880 by Charles W. Bardsley, who combed through dozens of church records to unearth a wealth of what he called “Puritan Eccentricities” and give historical context to a few widely circulated stories of the time about the absurdities of Puritan naming conventions. 

Bardsley cites a few trends that helped to shift the vibe away from the familiar landscape of Bartholomews, Simons, Matildas, and Cecilias to the decidedly wackier world of Makepeaces, Repentances, and (in a few instances) Fight-the-Good-Fight-of-Faiths. Notably, the Puritan rejection of “the two big ‘P’s—Pagan and Popish” meant that perfectly serviceable Germanic names like Geoffrey and Emma had to be thrown out along with anything that whiffed even slightly of saints, virgins, and martyrs, like Catherine, Marian, or Nicholas. This passage about baptism from a 1565 Directory of Church Government makes the rule explicit:

“They which present unto baptism, ought to be persuaded not to give those that are baptized the names of God, or of Christ, or of angels, or of holy offices, as of baptist, evangelist, etc., nor such as savour of paganism or popery: but chiefly such whereof there are examples, in the Holy Scriptures, in the names of those who are reported in them to have been godly and virtuous.”

The safest place to find Biblical names that aren’t in danger of having been saints or martyrs is the Old Testament, which led to a proliferation of Abners and Amos-es, as well as the occasional Hephzibah, Jehoiada, and Hariph, all of whom lived in the same town as Adah and Zillah Pickles, two sisters who were milliners in Yorkshire. 

But as devout and godly as the Pickles family doubtless was, truly pious prospective parents could show their Puritan cred even more fulsomely by choosing a name with a message attached to it. As the minister William Jenkyn explained during a 1652 sermon in Christ Church, London: 

“It is good to impose such names as express our baptismal promise. A good name is as a thread tied about the finger, to make us mindful of the errand we came into the world to do for our Master.”

This all sounds very nice and sensible, until you find yourself having to make small talk in line for Communion with Be-Strong Philpott, Steadfast-on-High Stringer, or (God forbid) Repent Boorman. These so-called “hortatory names” reached a height of absurdity in a specific district in the south of England during the 17th century. According to Bardsley, amongst the good people living near Banbury in the 1600s, 

“there prevailed ... a practice of baptizing children by scriptural phrases, pious ejaculations, or godly admonitions. It was a practice instituted of deliberate purpose, as conducive to vital religion, and as intending to separate the truly godly and renewed portion of the community from the world at large. … Fresh limits must be created. As Richard and Roger had given way to Nathaniel and Zerrubabel, so Nathaniel and Zerrubabel must now give way to Learn-wisdom and Hate-evil.”

And if you happen to be the type of person who wants to be the most pious Puritan parent in the parish, and your neighbors’ kids are already called Sin-Denye Tebb (born April 23, 1592) and Humiliation Hinde (married to Elizabeth Phillips January 24, 1629), that’s when things start to go truly off the rails. 

With thanks to Charles W. Bardsley and the Rev. G. E. Haviland, Warbleton, Sussex, whose extensive records provided one of Bardsley’s most useful sources, here are the 12 most astonishingly bad Puritan names, ranked.

12. Sorry-for-Sin Coupard

Sorry-for-Sin Coupard was born on January 25, 1559, to John Coupard, about whom not much is known beyond a tendency to wildly overcorrect for his own father’s subdued taste in perfectly sensible Christian names. For those of us who already basically go through life as a walking apology for *gestures wildly*, Sorry-for-Sin is a cautionary tale that things could be considerably worse.  

11.  Search-the-Scriptures Moreton

Search-the-Scriptures Morton was a living, breathing advertisement for Bible Study classes who made her home in Salehurst in the 1690s. She appears on a famous list of jurors with silly names (including Weep-Not Billing and More-Fruit Fowler) that was a popular sensation around the time Bardsley’s book was published thanks to its inclusion in the philosopher David Hume’s 1778 history of England. Bardsley’s research shows that the juror’s list was apocryphal, though the names themselves belonged to real people. 

Any expecting parents who like this name but want a version that’s more secular and modern might try something like Look-It-Up-on-Wikipedia Smith or Let-Me-Google-That-for-You Jones. 

10. Safety-on-High Snat and Small-Hope Biggs

In a tie for 10th place are two other real people who appear on the apocryphal jurors’ list, both of whom get an assist from the amusing dissonance provided by their surnames. In the case of old Safety-on-High (who I feel a special kinship with as she grew up in Uckfield, a few miles from where I was born), the un-endearing “Snat” has a rather diminishing effect, whereas poor Small-Hope’s unfortunate handle feels somehow even less flattering accompanied by the grandiose Biggs. 

9. Creature Cheeseman 

Although Creature Cheeseman was a contemporary of Sorry-for-Sin Coupard and Sin-Denye Tebb (she lived in Staplehurst, Kent, in the 1570s), it has to be reluctantly admitted that the name is not strictly a Puritan one. According to Bardsley, the strange forename was the result of a practice of naming children not expected to survive (though Creature defied the odds here) before the sex could be determined.

“A curious custom, which terminated soon after Protestantism was established in England, gave rise to several names which read oddly enough to modern eyes. These were titles like Vitalis or Creature—names applicable to either sex.”

Creature Cheeseman falls into another difficult subcategory on this list, of “Names That Are Maybe Secretly Actually Awesome and Not Bad After All?” It’s beyond my philosophy to properly tease these apart from the rest, though I’ll note that the next entry certainly applies.

8. Mahershalalhashbaz Christmas

Mahershalalhashbaz Christmas died in the 1860s, but he owes his name to a proud tradition of 16th century Mahershalalhashbaz-es, who were all christened during a Puritan mania for venerable Old Testament names that packed an absolute wallop. “Mahershalalhashbaz” evidently means something like "He has made haste to the plunder!" which is — it must be said — pretty badass. 

7. Die-Well Sykes

I’ll let Mr. Bardsley make the case for the deep and abiding funniness of this name:

A writer in Notes and Queries, September 9, 1865 (Mr. Lloyd of Thurstonville), says: “A man named Sykes, resident in this locality, had four sons whom he named respectively Love-well, Do-well, Die-well, and Fare-well. Sad to say. Fare-well Sykes met an untimely end by drowning, and was buried this week (eleventh Sunday after Trinity) in Lockwood churchyard. The brothers Live-well, Do-well, and Die-well were the chief mourners on the occasion.”

6. Judas-Not-Iscariot

There actually was a lesser-known second disciple named Judas who was not Judas Iscariot (awkward!), as is made clear in John 14:22, “Judas saith unto him, not Iscariot, Lord, how is it that thou wilt manifest thyself unto us, and not unto the world?” 

I sincerely hope that this fact made it easier for young Judas-Not-Iscariot to avoid bullying at school. 

5. Helpless Henley and No-Merit Vynall

Speaking of being bullied at school, Helpless Henley and No-Merit Vynall both had parents who were uninterested in giving their kids much of a leg up in the world. Helpless was already starting out at a disadvantage (“Baptized Helpless Henley, a bastard — Berwick, Sussex, 1589”), though No-Merit’s name wasn’t actually a statement about her character — it was a “denunciation of works” (as opposed to faith) as a means by which to achieve salvation. 

I’m sure this was a source of great consolation to her during roll-call.   

4. Jesus-Christ-Came-Into-the-World-to-Save Barebone and If-Christ-Had-Not-Died-for-Thee-Thou-Hadst-Been-Damned Barebone

Here’s Bardsley, again, on the unfortunate brothers Barebone: 

Hume says that both were adopted names, and adds, in regard to the latter, that his acquaintance were so wearied with its length, that they styled him by the last word as “Damned Barebone.” The editor of Notes and Queries (March 15, 1862) says that, “as his morals were not of the best,” this abbreviated form “appeared to suit him better than his entire baptismal prefix.” Whether the title was given at the font or adopted, there is no doubt that he was familiarly known as Dr. Damned Barebone.

3. Fly-Fornication Andrewes

It should be said that Fly-Fornication (born in Waldron on December 17, 1609, “the base son of Catren Andrewes”) was not named as a weird tribute to insect mating habits, but as an admonition to his mother, which — in addition to being just terribly mean to all parties involved — arrived rather too late.  

2. Kill-Sin Pimple

I’m guessing they thought that the imposing opening salvo of “Kill-Sin” would make prospective employers or suitors glide right past the awkward surname (which, to be clear, is nobody’s fault). But I’m not entirely sure it’s worked. 

1. Dancell Dallphebo-Marke-Antony-Dallery-Gallery-Cesar Williams Jr.

Explains Bardsley,

“Allowing the father to be thirty years of age, the paternal christening would take place in 1646, which would be a likely time in the political history of England for a mimical hit at Puritan eccentricity.”

Assuming Junior enjoyed the joke as well, that’s three generations of a very funny family that almost completely make up for a whole century of po-faced Constances, Steadfasts, and Zerubbabels.