Henry

Eight English kings wore this name before it made its way to American nurseries, including the bloated, six-times-married Henry VIII and the boyish, doomed Henry V of Agincourt — neither of whom, somehow, has dimmed the name's appeal. Henry comes from the Old Germanic Heimirich, meaning home-ruler or ruler of the household, and that domestic register has stuck: Henry sounds less like a battlefield king than like a man who is reliably home for dinner.

The name traveled to America with the colonists, was carried by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Henry James and Henry David Thoreau — three towering figures in American letters who together gave the name its bookish, slightly tweedy aura — and was held in the top 50 of the SSA chart for most of the twentieth century. It dipped briefly in the 1980s and 90s, when Jacob and Joshua dominated, then climbed steadily back through the 2010s as parents reached for old-fashioned, gentle, presidential names. It is currently in the top ten and shows every sign of staying there.

Famous Henrys include Henry Fonda, Henry Cavill, Henry Winkler, Henry Ford, Henry Mancini, and Henry Kissinger — a roll call so wide it's almost meaningless, except as evidence that the name fits any kind of life. Two syllables, soft and round, the H breathy and the y open. Nicknames are unusually flexible: Hank for the country, Harry for the British, Hen for the affectionate. It pairs cleanly with both classical and modern siblings (Henry and Eleanor, Henry and June, Henry and Mae, Henry and Wren). Steady, warm, deeply readable. The kind of name a child can grow into and never quite outgrow.