End Times

Fewer posts the last two months merely reinforce that Life Happens even when genealogy is more or less all-consuming. Mayan misinterpretations aside, this is likely to be the last post of year while I resign myself to approaching apocalypse reinvigorating the creative juices ... as in stir, blend, and pour. Merriwoman cave has a permanent string of fairy lights at the window. Just the thing to balance the dark side. What more does this festive season demand of me?  

Well, I could break into a carol from time to time. There’s gratitude for yesteryears at boarding school whereby a thousand morning assemblies automatically committed to memory every hymn in the Anglican Book of Praise including Christmas carols (alto and descant harmony encouraged). Not a terribly common feat, to be sure ... [note for the obituary, to be sure]. Thus the unpredictable and overpowering urge to belt out  “Jerusalem” at odd times.

Or I could consider jazzing up The Annual Letter for the benighted who don’t read my blogs. Or I could just do the Camelogue® as I keep threatening. Then again, why am I not doing more to decry the endless urban perversion of glass towers, petty politics, general corruption, global warming, and those winter hats that resemble a stoned baby panda monkey wolf parked on the heads of mutant teenagers? Maybe because we occasionally lose heart as heritage loss issues in this country are being ignored. 

What I am also not doing is listing cool things I did/said/wrote/accomplished in the past twelve months. Nor am I so foolish as to publicly assert some resolutions for the coming year (some people think it will arrive)—the Fraser ancestors would be haunting my nightmares. The illusion of exercising control over one’s life should be maintained at all costs. For whatever time we have left. ;-)

In my current lax state of post-travel euphoria, the most attractive notion involves a hogshead of President’s Choice caramel salé ice cream and hibernating till spring or Timewave Zero, whichever comes first.

However. Nonetheless, on the other hand, and notwithstanding, for the time being may I wish you interesting but harmonious family times in whatever manner you celebrate. Time to stock up the fridge. And perhaps re-visit the best ever folk carols from the Kingston Trio.    

© 2012 Brenda Dougall Merriman

Tell Me Everything You Know in 60 Seconds

Probably the second in a minor cranky-rant series. The first one has relevance (discreetly linked below).

The rash of "quickie guides" for every genealogical subject on the planet shows no sign of abating. Soon there will be a quickie guide for choosing your personally-applicable quickie guides.

The popularity of Elizabeth Shown Mill's cogent, analytic QuickSheets has spawned a growing B-list of would-be success items. No topic will be too obscure to escape glossy encapsulation. Perhaps serving as reminders for serious family historians, you say? More likely they cater to the formidable ADD penchant for sound bytes and instant gratification, including its death grip on all things Internet.

The concept of essential learning in traditional texts and courses--methodology, evidence analysis, demonstrated arguments--flicks away as junior genealogists greet the arrival of the shiny, condensed, time-saving items. And they take way less space on the library shelf. If personal libraries have a future.

Short cuts lead to poor research and hasty presentation, as experienced educators have been known to lament as the wobbly TWATAFT unfolds.

Chalk it up to the general ennui of the Shopping Season, or congenital sarcasm; at the risk of thorough damnation here's my take: The dollar store has less expensive laminated place mats.

Express your outrage at me here.

© 2012 Brenda Dougall Merriman

December Ancestors

For the sake of brief entries, I am not footnoting the facts in this ongoing memorial. Sources have been noted either in other blog posts or in my family history books.

8 December 1871 Jessie Isabella McFadyen was born in Provincetown, Massachusetts, the daughter of John McFadyen and Isabella Campbell; she was their second child and first daughter. Her parents were Cape Breton natives who sailed to "the Boston states" as an interim step toward their final destination: the Canadian prairies. Her father worked in Provincetown for a few years to finance the remainder of the trip. And indeed young Jessie Isabella (known as Belle) and her brother Hector would find themselves in Oakbank, Manitoba, three years later. Belle later married William Charles Dougall on her father's farm in 1894. She was my grandmother.

24 December 1814 On Christmas Eve, Donald McFadyen, a native of Coll, Scotland, was discharged from the 2nd Battalion, 91st Argyllshire Regiment of Foot, in southern England. Donald would have had a long journey to his island home in the Inner Hebrides where he spent another thirteen years, eking out a scant living for his family from the land. It is still not clear to me whether he chose to leave for Nova Scotia or was forced to go in 1828. His battalion was disbanded the following year as the Peninsular War ended. Not much is known about the old second battalion, even by current regimental historians. The Argyllshire and Sutherland Highlanders Museum is situated in Stirling Castle.

26 December 1914 Catherine Fraser Dougall died on this date in Winnipeg, Manitoba, three days shy of her 81st birthday. She was the mother-in-law of Belle, above. Catherine became the wife of Scottish-born Peter Dougall, outliving her husband only by six months. Both are buried in Elmwood Cemetery, Winnipeg. Catherine was my great-grandmother.

Catherine Fraser Dougall, 1833-1914

29 December 1833 Catherine Fraser (as above) was born in St Andrews, Quebec, the daughter of John Fraser from Killin, Perthshire, Scotland, and his wife Nancy Fraser of Inverness-shire, Scotland, lineage. Catherine's marriage to Peter Dougall incurred residential moves to Vankleek Hill and Renfrew, Ontario, then finally Winnipeg. She became the mother of nine children who, as adults, scattered between Renfrew and Winnipeg to California, Minnesota, and New York.   

St Andrew, RIP

Photo from jigsandreels.com

On such an occasion of gravitas, I would like to honour the patron saint of Scotland. Or let us say, honour the festivities associated with St Andrew’s special day. Consisting, I dare say, of non-stop music, cheer, and frenetic dancing for hours on end, preferably all night long. Without a doubt the world could do with more distracting ceilidhs and reels and Red Hot Chili Pipers. And lobbying for a statutory holiday.

One might be aware that a campaign called Yes Scotland is fiercely underway for the Scottish parliament to hold an independence referendum. It’s a bit late, one might think. Really, they blew their chances a few centuries ago and having exterminated or deported the Highland element more recently, what hope do they have for an impressive show of force? Sean Connery notwithstanding, of course.


Perhaps they forget that Scotland was actually two countries. The exiled Highlanders carried their spirit and strength away to every country where they migrated. All important things representing Scotland flowed from them. And away with them.

But sadly, it appears that even in the diaspora—due respect and admiration for traditional regiments aside—the Ladies from Hell have more or less degenerated into marching pipe bands. Admittedly, that’s still plenty scary to some people.

So how fares the remnant sorry lot back in a depleted land? One small town journalist observed: “... Yes Scotland’s Borders members may wish to remove the two Union Jack flags at the back of the room next time they meet at the Kingsknowes Hotel.”[1] On the other hand, ignoring my shaky conflation of politics and history, their party will start five hours ahead of North America. Bereft as they are of pure Caledonian heart, apparently they are still up to mustering some epic ceilidh magic.

The last of the Talisker (sigh)

Rise up, St Andrew, the sons and daughters of Alba need you more than ever. 

Disclaimer: Statements in this piece are entirely subjective, unsupported whatsoever by facts or current events but commendable for avoidance of the word bagpipe.

[1] (No byline), The Southern Reporter (Scottish Borders), 23 November 2012. 

Cemeteries: Part 14

Tunisia is a secular country, estimated at 97% Moslem. It is the most liberal Arab country I have visited. Here I had more opportunity to see Moslem cemeteries than in any other country. Burials are generally made within a day of death, avoiding the embalming process that interferes with a body. While all mourners attend the funeral prayers led by an imam, only men accompany the body to actual burial in the cemetery. The deceased are buried on their right side facing Mecca. In general, elaborate grave markers and flowers are not encouraged; prayers are preferred as memorials. 

 (above)

The main cemetery in the town of Hammamet is located outside the walled old town (medina) along the Mediterranean seafront. Many tombs have traditional mosaic decoration. Here, the customary marker is the representation of a book: the left hand page identifies the individual with name and dates; the right hand side has a quotation from the Koran. Grounds maintenance does not seem to be a priority. You can see the litter dumped in one section. A small Christian cemetery is nearby with many Catholics of Italian origin. 

 (above)

The city of Kairouan is Tunisia's spiritual centre, location of the Great Mosque, the holiest Moslem site in Africa; the original portion dates to the 9th century. It is the overall fourth holiest site for (Sunni) Islam after Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem. Outside the walls of the medina can be seen (with the mosque's minaret in the background) the small old Ouled Farhane burial ground no longer in use. A certain tribe had requested this location close to the mosque. I could not ascertain when the burials began or how old they are. All inscriptions have long vanished over time and whitewashing seems to be the only maintenance.

 (above)

A visit to the small seaside town of Monastir was to see the mausoleum of Habib Bourguiba (1903-2000), the enlightened and revered father of modern Tunisia. He became the first president at the time of independence in 1956. Among other reforms such as banning the burkha and niquab, Bourguiba instituted universal health care and compulsory education up to full high school level. A processional avenue leads up to his grandiose monument with its golden dome, within the town's extensive el-Mazeri cemetery. Inside it has private rooms for family visitors and a public room serving as a small museum of his life. Separate rooms have comparatively plain burial slabs for members of his and his second wife's extended families.

Wordless Wednesday

The marabout - burial place - of a holy man, in the Hammamet Ribat; photo BDM 2012

November Ancestors

For the sake of brief entries, I am not footnoting the facts in this ongoing memorial. Sources have been noted either in other blog posts or in my family history books.

To my surprise, I have no entries for November. It may be just as well, because I hope to be far, far away chasing camels this month. One could not say I have combed my family histories for all dates. They have been chosen rather capriciously. But sheesh, I did provide an extra long one last month. However ... here's one I missed for two months ago:

13 September 1885 Janis Jurikas (Ivan Georgiev in the Russian Orthodox register) of Krūmiņi farm, Lāde estate, Livonia, Latvia, died at the age of forty-two. His cause of death is still up in the air. The family story is he was cutting firewood and a log felled him with mortal injuries. The original researcher/translator I employed found the church record of death (as shown). From that, I'm told the priest who administered last rites stated he died of cancer. Wouldn't you agree that's a bit of a disconnect? Even though we family historians have a healthy suspicion of family stories?

Limbažu Orthodox Church 1883-1888; LSHA 232.2.155 p. 108

 

Apart from the numeral 13, my untrained eye cannot spot anything familiar enough in the Cyrillic script to even guess this is the correct entry. With regard to Orthodox church entries in general, a Russian-speaker told me the nineteenth century language has many archaic terms of uncertain meaning today. Obviously I have been too lazy to scout out second and third opinions on the translation.

I would be ever so pleased upon returning from the desert to find any comments and opinions about cause of death. Over and out for a while.

This Time It's Forenames

... Scottish, that is. Highland/Gaelic practice, to be specific.

It didn't escape my notice that my ancestor Margery McIntyre was also referred to in some Quebec records as Mary, Marion or Margaret.

▪ Margery: marriage 1808; baptisms of sons Samuel, John, and Hugh 1819; son Daniel 1824.

▪ Mary: baptisms of daughter Elizabeth in 1821; daughter Mary in 1822.

▪ Margaret: baptism of daughter Ann 1812.

▪ Marion: burial of son Charles 1845.

I won't even mention that she was strangely identified as "C." McIntyre in the 1851 census with her husband and many children.

That Margery/Marjorie derives from Margaret seems quite straightforward. Marion is a version of Mary. Marion is also a form of Sheila, I'm told, and could be a diminutive or substitute for Morag and Sarah. Googling can be dangerously hypnotic and I got as far as Marsaili and Marcail as versions of Margaret/Marjorie/Marjory, both meaning "a pearl," before I snapped out of the trance.

In the wildly optimistic hope that after "Margery's" birth a minister was in the vicinity with a sessional clerk somewhere in his wake to record it, I searched ScotlandsPeople for baptisms 1782-1788. Her Quebec records of marriage, one census, and death indicated 1785-1786 as her year of birth.

Ever tried searching for a Mary Anybody in a large database? Yes, I see sympathetic heads bobbing. How to narrow the results when you don't know who her parents are--the very item you seek? Creative fallback, it might be called. Since Margery had five sons, I persuaded myself that one of them bore the name of her father. Each variation of her name had to be used with each of the five male names. "Refine your search" over and over again sure used up the SP credits faster than you can say where's my credit card.

The results from all this switching, examining, saving, printing, and too much coffee took at least a day. Not to forget that most Highland parish registers have erratic, dismaying gaps. The names Margery and Marjory were hopelessly unproductive. I confess, I didn't get to Marion yet. Lowland parishes and unlikely mothers' names were eliminated. Down to my selected winnows:

Margaret:

▪ d/o John McIntyre & Sarah Graham, Kilninver & Kilmelfort, Argyll, baptized 27 June 1785

▪ d/o John McIntyre & Elizabeth Cameron, Kilmallie, Argyll, baptized 14 September 1779

▪ d/o John McIntyre & Elizabeth Cameron, no location given but RD 525, baptized 1 October 1777

Mary:

▪ d/o John McIntyre (mother unnamed), Cornaigbeg, Isle of Tyree, Argyll, baptized 9 February 1785

▪ d/o John McIntyre & Elizabeth Cameron, town, Kilmallie, Argyll, baptized 29 December 1784

John and Sarah are dark horses; Sarah is quite an alien forename in my families but the surname Graham caught my eye because of previously-discussed potential connections. Tyree (Isle of Tiree) got my attention too, only because (irrationally) I have a weakness for its sister Isle of Coll.

But John and Elizabeth! Cameron AND Kilmallie! even though Camerons are a dime a dozen in Argyll. I'm very partial to these entries. John was the name of Margery's first son, Elizabeth was her second daughter. Here we have daughters Margaret and Mary possibly born to the same couple. Examination of the actual parish pages showed the 1779 Margaret baptized in Maryburgh (the town settlement at Fort William) according to the page. When I checked the full entry for 1777, the parents of that Margaret were from Achnacroish, a tiny place on the Isle of Lismore (which corresponds to Registration District 525) about twenty miles southwest of Fort William. 

A screen shot of Mary's baptismal entry would go nicely here and as soon as I get the hang of it, who knows what might appear.

So it seems that we have two separate couples in different locations. Of course there is no marriage available <SIGH> for either couple. Only the daughter Mary's baptism in "town" at the end of 1784 is close to the target year of birth. Some other nickname might have been preempted for Margaret of 1779, leaving "Margery" for her younger sister Mary ... then again, all that googling may have messed with my head. Searching for other children 1770-1800 of a couple called John and Elizabeth did not yield any further baptisms. In other words, no evidence of a child Catherine, potential sister of my Margery and future wife of John Cameron.

Cameron collaborator Nancy has pointed out that close inspection of the parish register in that period reveals the likelihood of post-facto recording. Year after year of entries are made in the same hand, as if copied from a prior source, and are not signed by the officiating clergyman. Nancy has found two conflicting items in her own family, with one entry appearing in the wrong year and a mother's name misplaced in another.

It's known that some parishes began recording baptisms and marriages in their Kirk Sessions minutes, so I can understand the transition to keeping a separate register and perhaps copying what went before (the Isle of Coll is an example). Moreover, Don Steele said, "As the maintenance of Parish Registers depended on the Session clerk, they vary considerably over the years as one clerk succeeded another. As in England, the entries in Scottish registers were often no doubt written up from some rough notebook kept by the clerk, and in some cases this is all that has survived."[1]

The ifs, maybes, and howevers continue to multiply.

[1] D.J. Steele, Sources for Scottish Genealogy and Family History, Vol. XII of the Society of Genealogists' National Index of Parish Registers (London and Chichester: Phillimore, 1970), 72.

© 2012 Brenda Dougall Merriman

Sir John Johnson's Bell(s)

A rather simple enquiry, sent out in all directions, spiralled into a saga. If you have any interest at all, grab a cuppa and put your feet up to read.

Sir John Johnson was an outstanding Loyalist of the American Revolution, forming and leading the King's Royal Regiment of New York during the entire conflict. After the War he acquired extensive lands in Canada, the seigniories of Argenteuil and Monnoir among them.[1] The home he built before 1800 at Williamstown, Glengarry--where he settled so many of his fellow Loyalists--is a National Historic Site of Canada.

Sir John had a number of other homes as time went on. Having purchased the Seigniory of Argenteuil in 1808, he had built a manor house there too—not long after it was destroyed by fire.[2] He donated the land for the construction of St. Andrews Presbyterian Church in St. Andrews East (now officially Saint-André d’Argenteuil), Quebec. The Scottish church was completed in 1821 under the ministry of Mr. Archibald Henderson. 

St Andrews Presbyterian Church; photo Pierre Langlois

I quote from Rev. Harold Reid's church history, written after his own retirement as Presbyterian minister of St. Andrews East:

Subscriptions for the Presbyterian building amounted to £142.12.6, and as well as giving the land the Seignior also contributed 25 pounds and a little later a bell for the church. Sir John Johnson had brought up from his former home in the Mohawk Valley this bell which at first was used at his new Manor House, but later he presented it to Mr. Henderson. It was used for some time as a church bell, then was taken down, and for many years has stood on a table in the vestibule of the church. The inscription on the bell reads: ME FECIT PIETER SEEST AMSTELODAMI AD 1764. [3]

Wow, was I impressed. A bell with a Loyalist history! Right there in the church of my non-UE ancestors. At last, a family connection--however faint and remote--to Loyalists. I'm on it.

My burning question was: Does St. Andrews Presbyterian Church still have and display this fabulous bell?

A little more research showed that master founder Pieter Seest was the foreman of Amsterdam’s bell and cannon factory, eventually becoming a director of the firm in 1770. The date on St. Andrew’s bell makes it a year older (this bell is becoming personal for me) than the bell housed in the famed U.S.S. Constitution Museum in Boston.[4] The American ship won an 1812 sea battle with the British H.M.S. Guerriere and took the bell as a war trophy; the victory earned it the nickname of Old Ironsides. There's even more here in a news story.

USS Constitution in Boston Harbour

Apparently other bell and cannon artifacts have been occasionally located with Pieter Seest’s foundry signature. With only superficial research, I wondered if many of them would be older than 1764. I want MY bell to be the oldest.

Then I discovered that in 1822 Sir John had donated a bell to St. Stephen’s Anglican Church in Chambly, Quebec. The church is not far from his final home at Mont St-Grégoire. The St. Stephen's bell was "imported from England by Sir John Johnson" and bears an inscription reading "Isaac Tod 1812."[5] Sounds like the creator's name and date, n'est-ce pas? No competition here; MY bell is definitely older.

Isaac Tod bell; photo by St Stephen's Church

Feedback for my enquiry began to arrive. Genealogical kindnesses are legendary and no exception in this case. The information Ray provided was highly interesting and educational.[6] My assumption--n'est-ce pas--about "Isaac Tod 1812" was just that, an assumption based on the one source. For all I know, the church itself is under this impression too; time restraints meant I was merely scratching the surface. But my simple query threatened to take on an active life of its own.

Ray has seen the St. Stephen's bell, and it has no type of foundry mark on it. Turns out the Northwest Fur Company had a ship called Isaac Todd constructed in 1811. Todd was a retired fur trader with the Company. The ship was outfitted in England to take part in the War of 1812. After the War it continued in the fur trade until September 1821 when it foundered in Baie des Chaleurs. Salvaged rigging, fittings, and other materials from the ship were at public auction a month later. The bell could well have been among them, so it's plausible that Sir John could have purchased it then with St. Stephen's in mind. Whether the bell was made at the time the ship was constructed, or earlier, MY bell is still winning.

It gets better. Ray is a brilliant bell source. Apparently Sir John, or his wife, depending on sources, made the gift of a bell in 1801 or 1802 to the (then new) chapel Sainte-Marie-de-Monnoir--Monnoir being one of the Johnson-owned seigniories. Ray has no more details other than it was apparently manufactured in England. You see we are reaching a stage of secondary information and hypothetical probables regarding bell manufacture. But that's three Johnson-donated bells so far. 

Christ Church, St Andrews; photo Matthew Faran

It gets even better. Or worse. Gail responded and introduced me to Isabel who grew up in the St. Andrews area. Isabel reminded me of one book I had not reviewed recently. Reviewed, as in: writing from old notes and current research my family history that instigated this entire craziness--a history of Christ Church at St. Andrews. The author says Sir John gave his bell to the Anglican church.[7] How crushed am I?!  As well, he gave land for that church's site too.

 

Who exactly has the Mohawk Valley bell? ... very worrisome. Both churches at St. Andrews are not in regular use now.

But on reading E.G. May's text, some clarification: "Cast somewhere in Europe in 1759, and brought out to this country in the early days of its settlement, the old wide mouthed bell was presented to the Church by the Seignior."[8] From that, I will concede that the Christ Church bell is older, but that it came directly from Europe to "this country," meaning Quebec, after the time of the American Revolution. Hopefully my tenuous Loyalist connection is intact.

Isabel's on-site investigation now assures me that MY bell is still safely lodged in the Presbyterian church.

Who knew the Johnson family was in the habit of donating bells? Ecumenically, at that. I do love tangents. Loyalist Trails, York Courant, Ray, Gail, and Isabel, thank you all!!

[1] Earle Thomas, "Johnson, Sir John," Dictionary of Canadian Biography Online (http://www.biographi.ca/009004-119.01-e.php?&id_nbr=2937 : accessed 1 October 2012).

[2] Lucille Campey in Les Ecossais: The Pioneer Scots of Lower Canada, 1763-1855 (Toronto: Natural Heritage Books, 2006, p. 55) says Sir John purchased Argenteuil in 1814. Alain Chebroux, "The Seigniory and County of Argenteuil [in New France]," Comte d'Argenteuil (www.comte-argenteuil.com : accessed 1 October 2012 and numerous times previously) has original documentation that says the Murray-Johnson transaction took place 26 December 1808.

[3] W. Harold Reid, The Presbyterian Church, St. Andrews and Lachute, Quebec, 1818-1932 (Hamilton, ON: Eagle Press, 1979), 10-11.

[4] USS Constitution Museum (www.ussconstitutionmuseum.org/ : accessed 1 October 2012); the path is Collections, Art and Artifacts, Spoils of War, Ship's Bell from HMS Guerriere.

[5] St. Stephen's Anglican Church of Chambly (http://st-stephens-church-chambly.org/ : accessed 15 September 2012).

[6] I am not identifying full names of my informants for their own privacy .. unless they wish to comment.

[7] E.G. May, A Hundred Years of Christ Church, St. Andrews, P.Q: An Historical Sketch of the Pioneer Church of the Ottawa Valley (St. Johns, QC: E.R. Smith, 1919), 67. The text of the book is available on Internet Archive (www.archive.org).

[8] Loc. cit. 

© 2012 Brenda Dougall Merriman

 

Commenting

Sorry to say, the dread captcha is back on my comments form. Removing it caused way more spam than I can handle, creating strong urges to go forth and kill or at least trash my computer. Curse the Interweebs and all their robotic spider children.   

October Ancestors

For the sake of brief entries, I am not footnoting the facts in this ongoing memorial. Sources have been noted either in other blog posts or in my family history books.

1 October 1721 Jean Weir was baptized in West Calder parish, Midlothian, Scotland, her father named as James Weir. Her mother's name was not recorded, as was the custom of some clerks in some parish registers of the era. This is the earliest date I have for an ancestor and it's very tentative at that. The likely ancestral connection seems to be that a Jean Weir was later recorded as the mother of Thomas Dougall baptized in 1755 in the same place, wife of a John Dougall (their marriage not located). Thomas can be more confidently placed as the father of my Canadian emigrant ancestor John Dougall (1781-1867). The shadowy, elusive Jean is probably my paternal 4^th great-grandmother.

4 October 1960 Hector Fraser Dougall died near Kenora, Ontario, on a drive from Port Arthur (Thunder Bay) to Winnipeg. He was 64 years old. He left a family he started later in life and I regret never knowing him as a younger man. I wrote about some of his prior life here. Much more detail about his POW experience will be featured in an upcoming book, Faces of Holzminden (www.facesofholzminden.com). HFD was my father.

5 October 1884 [Old Style] Victor Carl Freiberg was born on Koneni farm, Kastrane, Marzingshof estate, Riga District, Latvia. His name was recorded in the Mālpils Lutheran parish register as Victor Karls Freibergs at his baptism two months later. Although the Russian Empire (including Latvia at the time) followed the Julian calendar until well after his birth and also after his emigration to Canada, I believe his birthday was celebrated or remembered as 17 October 1884. Victor was my maternal grandfather.

9 October 1920 Latvia-born Victor Freibergs officially became a Canadian citizen according to documents in Library and Archives Canada's Russian Consular files. After emigrating in 1906, he spent time in northern Ontario towns, Blind River and Port Arthur. He was settled permanently in Port Arthur when he became naturalized. In those days it seems his wife would also have become a citizen, by default of marriage.

19 October 1908 Marija Jurikas, single woman, arrived at Quebec from Liverpool on the ship SS Dominion. The ship's manifest recorded her as age 32, a domestic, born in Switzerland. Clearly there was inadvertent confusion between her place of birth and her previous country of residence. Not so inadvertent was the slicing of four years off her age! Latvian ex-pats, including her brothers in Canada, were keen to see her stop flitting around and be properly married off, which happened four years later. There's more about her here. Marija was my grandmother.

27 October 1868 [Old Style] Ivan Georgiyev Jurikas of Krumin on the Ladenhof estate married Jekaterina Feodorova Tukkum of Jurin on the Roperbeck estate—in Livland, Latvia. Because the service was in the Russian Orthodox church at Lemsal, the entry conforms to that style. So, the Latvian equivalents of the Russian/German mixture (with excuses for my spelling, tense and diacritical failures) are Janis son of Juris Jurikas, Krūmini, Lade; Katrina daughter of Feodor Tukums, Jurin, Roperbecki; Livland is Livonija; Lemsal is Limbaži. This couple were my maternal great-grandparents.

No Surnames

How many identifiers for an individual do we take for granted in our compulsive search for ancestors? It seems to me Numero Uno is Name. The surname, a family name, is paramount. When we can combine it with a forename, we are on track for seeking the next person in our ancestral chain. We may complain about mild or wild variations in surname spellings, transliterations from an unfamiliar language, or wholesale name changes, but what if there were no surnames at all?   

Well, you may run into this if you can trace your families to the Middle Ages in the British Isles; but in many European countries—what we now call countries—the common people have had surnames only recently, considering the length of human recorded history. In the case of Latvia, much less than two hundred years! Also, many European countries, especially in the east, only acquired more-or-less fixed boundaries within the last century or two. Many of those underwent drastic alterations again in our recent lifetime, according to political or cultural imperatives ... thus the added complications of determining who the record-keepers were. If they kept records. If they still exist.

The land that would eventually become independent Latvia fluctuated as a province under “foreign” powers—authorities of Swedish, Polish or Russian rule, but mainly German—from the thirteenth to the nineteenth centuries. Its various geographic parts were often under different or even warring jurisdictions. So that was bad enough in terms of hoping for genealogical records, without the notion of seeking a rural Janis who had no other identifying cognomen.

Basically I am talking agrarian ancestors here. It was well on into the nineteenth century when serfdom finally ended for Latvian peasants and surnames were being adopted. Before that time, tracing your average peasant seems to fade to a hopeless shade of pale.

But no, wait. A technique and resources can be applied in many cases to take the researcher farther back another generation or two. Church registers for nineteenth-twentieth century vital events—when surnames are in use—will normally show a place name for the parents of a child, or for a bride and groom. That place name is your clue to residence, and residence means the estate where they lived. An estate name is an identifier.

The Baltendeutsche nobility had great landed estates across an area that included both Latvia and Estonia. Each estate had numerous farms worked by the peasants. Estate owners learned to keep track of their farms and workers, enumerated on irregularly compiled lists of inhabitants called revision lists. Revision lists date from 1795. We are fortunate that the lists have survived because the first ones pre-date the general use of surnames. By and large, serf families were “tied” to one estate and seldom moved outside it. In fact, many surnames evolved from farm names.  

Yes, learning the residence of an individual from a religious baptism or marriage, you can probably connect him or her to a family in the latest revision list of 1858. The lists were updated from time to time with later information; for instance, movement from one farm to another was added if it occurred. In lists prior to about 1826, it’s possible to identify specific family groups by a cluster of forenames and their relationships. Although as expected, the earlier the list, the less information is recorded. Generally, all individuals in a household are (fore)named, including children and extended family. Ages are usually given and sometimes other identifying information, such as a notation of father’s name for the head of household. You could even learn the name of the farm on that estate. 

Surri, Estonia, Revision Lists 1834-1851; EAA 1279.1.142, frame 258

 
Religious registers of Latvia, all faiths, are freely available as digital images at the Raduraksti databases—a gift of the Latvian State Historical Archives. It has English translation, to a degree. Record books for the prevailing Lutheran denomination may exist from the early 1700s but may only chronicle the landowning gentry until the nineteenth century. So the clues you need for a residence will be in the later church books. First you must pinpoint a religious parish or jurisdiction (sometimes they correspond approximately with the old estate boundaries; the name of a town or village will help) in order to pursue a baptism or marriage. That’s where you do your homework on this side of the world.

Estonia’s people shared much of the same historical patterns and a fluid boundary. Their Estonian State Historical Archives has also developed the Saaga site of multiple databases for digital browsing. Technologically, this site is easier to use. In the German of the period, the above illustration indicates that one of my families on the Surri estate had come from the Torgel estate and later moved to Alt-Salis (contemporary German names*). The two former are presently in Estonia and the latter in Latvia.
  
Furthermore, a family might have switched to the Russian Orthodox Church in the 1840s or so, for political reasons not discussed here. If so, an added bonus is the Russian patronymic usage (as in marriages) that demonstrates the paternal relationship, such as Ekaterina Feodorova (Katrina or Katherine, daughter of Feodor).

My post does not address map usage or language issues once you access the documentation. Hey, no-one said it would be painless. 

For expert information, see Antra Celmins, Discovering Latvian Roots especially "Working with Revision Lists” (http://www.celmina.com/genealogy/2010/10/working-with-revision-lists/, 24 October 2010) and “M is for Manorial Estate” (http://www.celmina.com/genealogy/2012/08/m-is-for-manorial-estate/, 11 August 2012).

* Surri = Surju (Estonian); Torgel = Tori (Estonian); Alt-Salis = Vecsalaca (Latvian).

McIntyre + Cameron + Graham

Exhaustive searches have a way of shrinking thanks to a small pool of sources. Therefore the FAN principle expands. Let's not say I'm desperate (I am) in pushing Friends, Associates, and Neighbours to the max for Margery McIntyre, one of those ancestors who dropped in from outer space. First the Camerons; now, this.

Some Cameron researchers say Preacher John Cameron had a Graham son-in-law, an unresolved side issue, but still of potential benefit for a Scottish place of origin. John Cameron, likely the Preacher, named his wife Catherine McIntyre in his will, and eight children. None of those daughters married a Graham. He probably had some older children by a first marriage. It's known that a John Graham, married to a Mary Cameron (born ca.1799 in Scotland), lived in Roxborough Township, Upper Canada.[1] I want to leave that aside because of the different migration history to that area: not exactly FAN club candidates in my mind.

Nevertheless, a person of interest is a man called Walter Graham who settled at Cote du Midi in the St. Andrews East area of Argenteuil, Quebec. Men, actually. I've counted at least three. The name was also closely associated with my John Fraser. And probably the phantom McIntyres, object of my angst. There's far too much math calculation for my liking in what follows.

Walter Graham of Montreal, gentleman, married Jane McIntyre of the same place on 26 September 1818 by licence.[2] ... another McIntyre connection. Both were of the age of majority. Hugh McMillan and Allan Cameron were the witnesses. I have no idea who Jane is or where she came from.

Good questions: What does gentleman imply? A man of “means”? ... he became a farmer. What does licence imply? ... one or both were not members of that congregation. Who the heck is Allan Cameron? ... not Preacher John's son who was born in 1807.

In the 1842 census Walter Graham appears a few lines above Hugh Cameron (another dangling thread in himself). Walter had been in the province for twenty-five years.[3]  An emigration date of about 1817 means he arrived in Quebec only shortly before his 1818 marriage. Walter Graham and Jane McIntyre are both shown as age 50 in the 1851 census.[4] They have a son Walter aged 25.

Four months after the 1818 marriage, the couple had a daughter Joan born; her baptism was witnessed by John Fraser and Hugh Cameron.[5] This girl could be “Joanne” Graham who married a John Cameron in September 1836 at Chatham, Quebec, both “residing at Cote du Midi.”[6] Witnesses were Archibald McCallum and Alexander Cameron. The groom is thought to be the son (1803-1893) of John Cameron and Catherine McIntyre;[7] the bride would have been 17 and the groom 33. The witness Alexander could possibly be her brother born in 1809.

On the other hand, a Joanna Graham married a John Cameron in 1845, recorded in the same church register.[8] On this occasion the witnesses were A. Cameron and H____ Nor[ton?]. Residence/s were not noted, but the clergyman’s reference to duly published banns suggests the couple lived in or near Chatham.

Which Graham-Cameron marriage involves Walter’s daughter and the Preacher’s son, if either? The 1851 census shows John Cameron age 30 and wife “Jane” Graham age 31 in a Graham-Cameron cluster.[9] (Most nineteenth-century Quebec censuses show a wife's birth surname.) If the census ages are fairly reliable, this man is not John and Catherine's son born in 1803; he was born more or less about the same time as his wife. The age of their oldest child–14–infers a marriage at least by 1838, fitting with the known 1836 marriage and Jane’s young age at the time.

A third marriage entry is that of Jane Graham to Duncan McCallum in 1847, which took place at Cote du Midi but recorded in the same register as the first two mentioned.[10] Zachariah McCallum and Donald McSorly were witnesses.

John Cameron, son of John and Catherine, likely found his bride elsewhere. Walter Graham and Jane McIntyre of Cote du Midi may have had two daughters with similar names (Jane, Jean, Joan, Joanna, etc. were variables of one name) but it’s equally likely that several women with the same name and different fathers (oh yes, no lack of candidates) lived at the same time ... illustrating common same-name problems in Highland family research.

So John Fraser (born ca.1776) and John Cameron (ca.1764) and Walter Graham ((ca.1801) all married McIntyre women of unknown origin. Where am I going with this? To Scotland, I hope, somewhere, somehow.

Just to prove I am having fun (?) ... another Walter Graham perhaps worth mentioning was the man buried 8 January 1852 in the Berthier County parish of Lanoraie.[11] He was described as “formerly servant to the seigneur of this parish.” Lanoraie is located on the north shore of the St. Lawrence between Montreal and Trois-Rivières, quite distant from Argenteuil but still in the District of Montreal. The seigniory was the domain of one Ross Cuthbert during the period. Walter was aged about 80 at the time of his death, making his year of birth ca.1772. Thus he was old enough to have fathered a son called Walter who could have been in Montreal in 1818 to marry a McIntyre.

Could have, would have, possibly. It's difficult to decide how far to extend the searches without a few small rewards. Depends how exhausted or desperate you are.

[1] “1851 Census Canada West,” digital image, Automated Genealogy (www.automatedgenealogy.com : accessed 31 August 2012), Stormont County, Roxborough Township, district 4, sheet 20, stamped p. 39 and sheet 21, stamped p. 41, John Cameron household; citing Library and Archives Canada (LAC) microfilm C-11752.

[2] “Quebec Vital and Church Records (Drouin Collection) 1621-1967,” digital image, Ancestry.ca (www.ancestry.ca : accessed 25 August 2012), Graham-McIntyre marriage, 26 September 1818; citing St. Gabriel Street Presbyterian Church (Montreal, Quebec).

[3] Walter Graham, 1842 Census Lower Canada, Deux-Montagnes, Argenteuil seigneurie, Cote du Midi, p.1225, line 6; LAC microfilm C-728.

[4] “1851 Census Canada East,” digital image, Ancestry.ca (www.ancestry.ca : accessed 12 August 2012), Deux-Montagnes, ED 11, Argenteuil, Parish of St. Andrews, sheet 2, stamped p. 3, Walter Graham household; citing LAC microfilm C-1147.

[5] St. Andrews Presbyterian Church (St. Andrews East, Quebec) register 1818-1827, p. 13, baptism Joan, 24 February 1819 (born 29 January 1819), daughter of Walter Graham, farmer Cote du Midi, and wife “Jean”; LAC microfilm C-2904.

[6] “Quebec Vital and Church Records (Drouin Collection), 1621-1967,” digital image, Ancestry.ca (www.ancestry.ca : accessed 26 August 2012), St. Phillipe d’Argenteuil Presbyterian Church (Grenville-Chatham), Cameron-Graham marriage, 28 September 1836.

[7] Cameron researchers often refer to her as “Johanna.”

[8] “Quebec Vital and Church Records (Drouin Collection), 1621-1967,” digital image, Ancestry.ca (www.ancestry.ca : accessed 26 August 2012), St. Phillipe d’Argenteuil Presbyterian Church (Grenville-Chatham), Cameron-Graham marriage, 29 December 1845.

[9] “1851 Census Canada East,” digital image, Ancestry.ca (www.ancestry.ca : accessed 12 August 2012), Deux-Montagnes, ED 11, Argenteuil, Parish of St. Andrews, sheet 2, stamped p. 3, John Cameron household; citing LAC microfilm C-1147.

[10] “Quebec Vital and Church Records (Drouin Collection), 1621-1967,” digital image, Ancestry.ca (www.ancestry.ca : accessed 26 August 2012), St. Phillipe d’Argenteuil Presbyterian Church (Grenville-Chatham), McCallum-Graham marriage, 19 January 1847.

[11] “Quebec Vital and Church Records (Drouin Collection), 1621-1967,” digital image, Ancestry.ca (www.ancestry.ca : accessed 25 August 2012), St. Joseph parish (Lanoraie, Berthier County), 8 January 1852, enterrement Walter Graham.

labels: Graham, Fraser, Cameron, McIntyre, Argenteuil

September Ancestors

For the sake of brief entries, I am not footnoting the facts in this ongoing memorial. Sources have been noted either in other blog posts or in my family history books.

1 September 1993 Peter McAdam Dougall died in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He was the second child and only son of Peter Robinson Dougall (1872-1962) and Elizabeth M. McAdam. One of many Peters in the Dougall family branches, he lived to the age of 92. He and his bride, Gertrude Kienzle, had celebrated sixty-nine years of marriage. For over fifty years he headed a construction firm in the twin cities of Minnesota, erecting some landmark buildings. Peter was a devoted family man with an impish sense of humour. Every year as children we excitedly anticipated the cross-border trip to visit “Uncle” Peter and marvel at his unfamiliar mid-western drawl; he was a special person in our lives. He in turn would come to us for an annual fishing or hunting trip. In later life he conceded the winters and found Arizona comfortable. Peter was the first cousin of my father. 

 

15 September 1927 Jessie Isabelle “Belle” McFadyen Dougall died in Vancouver at the age of 56. Her life spanned the width of the continent: born in Provincetown, Massachusetts to Cape Breton parents, she came with them as a small child to the fertile farming fields of Oakbank, Manitoba. Married in 1894 at the McFadyen family farm, she and her husband William C. Dougall spent most of their years in Winnipeg, at 251 Bell Avenue, as he built up a business. Upon his retirement, they moved west where their daughter was living and took a small farm in Whonnock, British Columbia. She predeceased William by seven years. The couple are buried in Ocean View Burial Park, Burnaby. Belle was the grandmother I never knew.

19 September 1834 (A different) Peter Dougall was born in the village or farm of Netherlongford, Edinburghshire [aka Midlothian], Scotland, the fifth and youngest son of John Dougall and Marion Hastie. Peter was just under ten years old when his parents made the decision to emigrate to Canada, where they settled as farmers at Beech Ridge, a community close to St. Andrews East, Quebec. Farming was not for Peter; he apparently apprenticed as a blacksmith—possibly with, or by the influence of his father-in-law to-be, John Fraser. He found his true livelihood as a wagon- and carriage-maker. Peter and his wife Catherine Fraser settled in Renfrew, Ontario, raising nine children, finally retiring to Winnipeg where he died in 1914. Peter was my great-grandfather.