#52 Ancestors: Cousins

Once you start researching family history, cousins seem to show up in all sorts of places. One that has been interesting me lately is my 1st cousin (3 times removed) who has shown up in America and thanks to one of the Dowse descendants I am able to provide some of his history.

In 1826 my 3 x great aunt Mary Biggs (older sister to my 2 x great grandfather James Biggs) married George Dowse. Both the Biggs and Dowse family came from Potterne in Wiltshire. Their second child was a boy, Jabez Biggs Dowse, born on 20 February 1829. He was baptised in St Mary’s Wesleyan Methodist Church at Devises, Wiltshire on 16 May 1830. As devout non-conformists, they chose a biblical name for their son. The name Jabez means “he causes pain”. Possibly his birth was exceptionally painful or there may have health problems early in infancy. Whatever the reason it seems they must have had some concerns about this new addition to the family.

His mother died when he was eight years old and at the age of 12 years, he was living with his father, who was a dealer in grain (a mealman) and his younger siblings in Potterne in Wiltshire. By the 1851 census, he is no longer recorded with his family and he disappears from records. His older brother, Stephen had immigrated to America and it is likely that he had followed in his footsteps.

The next record for Jabez is in the 1860 United States Census. He is 30  years old, single and his occupation is described as a miller. In 1861 he applied for and became an American citizen. In 1864 he is shown in the US City Directory for Lockport Illinois as a grocer.

The reason for my interest in Jabez is for something entirely different. Jabez was an inventor and in 1867 he took out a patent for the “Dowse Fuze” for use in submarine mines

dowse fuze

His invention was taken up by the US Corp of Engineers and detailed in “Professional Papers of the Corps of Engineers of the United States Army”.  So maybe our family can take a little bit of credit for some of the engineering skills and the pathway my nephew is following!

Jabez never married and died in 1878 at the age of 49. He is buried in Lockport,  Illinois.

 

 

#52 Ancestors: Mistakes

It is so easy to make mistakes when doing family history. It might be another person’s family tree that looks fine on the surface but when you dig a little deeper is sending you down the wrong track. It might be from oral history where formal documents prove otherwise. There are so many family tales that are made up to hide the “unforgivable” truth, so many skeletons that needed to be hidden in the cupboard. Formal documentation may not be always correct with information unknown, based on what it sounded like, made up or just an honest mistake. Often even professional transcribers will make mistakes. Mistakes that does happen most frequently to me are interpreting those handwritten records that look like chicken scratches just like this will that belonged to my 4 x great grandmother Margaret Deane (nee Chalklen).

Will of Margaret Deane

I guess researching family history would not prove to be so interesting and challenging if it was all straightforward so bring on the mistakes and give me the chance to put them right!

#52 Ancestors: School days

We all have those school photos where we are lined up in rows with our classmates for our annual school photo. It is nice to look back on them and wonder what happened to all of our fellow students.

For my Mum, her early years of school in Brisbane were not happy ones. With her coffee-coloured skin, that turned a few shades darker from playing in the sun, and black hair she drew the attention of the school bullies who decided that she was an “Abo” and not worthy of their friendship. I can imagine her tears as the word’s and behaviour that were cruel and thoughtless made her feel ashamed and humiliated.  Such overt racism was prevalent in the 19th and 20th centuries and, it is not difficult to imagine the psychological damage that such loathing towards her caused making her feel less than her classmates.

Her parents did all they could to make her feel proud, telling her she was really an Indian princess (think of the sari’s I could wear if that were the truth!) and finally removing her from the State school and placing her in the local Catholic school where thankfully she was accepted for the beautiful young girl she was. By the time they had moved to Sydney, she had a large group of friends and recognised that the comments from her childhood were meaningless.

My research and DNA results confirm that my mother was not Aboriginal, nor any other dark-skinned race. I have to admit to being a bit disappointed at this as it would be wonderful to have such ancestry. The dark colouring comes from her Scottish Chisholm heritage with many of the NZ Chisholms sharing the same colouring.

My Mum was probably around eight years old in this school photo, attending Dutton Park Primary School in 1923. She is the fifth child from the left marked with an X (Mum did this so that we knew which one was her).

Mum school 1923

Has anything changed much? I had to laugh when my daughter came home from High School one day (yep, she has the olive skin and dark hair) to say that the “Greek” girls thought she was one of them and wanted to know which part of Greece her family came from!

#52 Ancestors: At Work

Mum Cake shop.jpgMulled over this trigger word a bit as there were so many choices. I decided that I would share one of my favourite photos of my Mum, Hazel Edith Biggs (nee Chisholm). Before she married she worked in a cakeshop and it is here that my memory lets me down so I hope my siblings can remind me. I think the shop was in Beverly Hills and she managed the shop front and sales assistants.  Mum is the one in the middle marked with a small x. She remained a life long friend with the owner who I think was called Sid Ward. Anyway here is the photo … I can almost smell the cream buns!

#52 Ancestors: Tragedy

When you research family history you come across some many tragedies that have occurred over the years and wonder at the resilience of the family and their ability to keep on going. There can be no greater tragedy than the death of a child and while in years gone past it was expected that infants may not survive and illnesses such as tuberculosis and other infectious diseases preyed on the young and the frail what an awful thing it would be to lose a child through a tragic accident.

This is what happened to the Biggs family when their daughter Caroline Elizabeth Biggs who was only three years old died in 1869. The terrible pain this must have caused as they struggled to understand why, withstood the investigation and outcomes of the coroner’s inquiry and finally attempted to put into place all those things required of mourning in the Victorian era.

You can read more about the story of Caroline and her family by clicking here.

#52 Ancestors: Comedy

dorothea maunsellTo find something suitable for this trigger word I have had to resort to my husband’s family tree and the Maunsell family. Dorothea Maunsell, John’s 5 x great aunt, was born to Thomas Maunsell and his wife, Dorothea (nee Waller) about 1750.

Dorothea’s father was a wealthy Dublin barrister, king’s counsellor in the court of the exchequer and MP for Kilmallock, co Limerick. His wife was descended from the landed Irish gentry and grew up in Castle Waller in Kilnareth. As would be expected during this period in history, as the family patriarch, Thomas had selected a suitable husband for his daughter by the time that she had entered her early teenage years.

Around this time the famous Italian castrato, Giusto Ferdinando Tenducci, was successfully appearing in operas and concerts in the British Isles. He was both good looking, personable and at the height of his operatic powers. Lured by high fees to Dublin in 1765, the castrato became a guest and music teacher in the house of Thomas Maunsell. The stage was now set for what I can only describe as a grand operatic farce.

Dorothea was not happy with father’s choice for her husband and she rejected his attempts at matchmaking. In her book The Castrato and His Wife, Berry described the relationship between Dorothea and her music teacher as “a crush” on the part of the young women and that Tenducci had developed a genuine attachment to her. To me, Dorothea appears to be a calculating young minx manipulating Tenducci to escape an unwanted marriage. The pair eloped and were married by a bedridden Catholic priest in the parlour of a private house in Cork. As she was underage and Catholic marriages were not valid in Protestant England they would both have been aware that the marriage was not legal.

Attempts to stand their ground against the fury of the Maunsell family and the extensive newspaper coverage that gripped the imagination of the lascivious public were useless. Dorothea even published her own account of the marriage A True and Genuine Narrative of Mr and Mrs Tenducci, representing herself as the victim of parental cruelty and judicial intransigence.

In 1768, Dorothea gave birth to a son, whom Tenducci claimed as his own.  Dorothea, bored with the novelty of her marriage, had started an affair with a rich, young man, William Long Kingsman. Once again Dorothea took action to remove herself from the life she did not want and again eloped, this time with Kingsman, her lover, who was the child’s real father. Another clandestine wedding took place, now with her father’s full consent, returning to England where the union with Tenducci was annulled on the grounds of non-consummation.

Tenducci, though apparently devastated by the loss of his wife, returned to London, where he remained a favourite with concert audiences. A final brush with the bankruptcy courts in 1788 sent him back to Italy for good, and two years later he died in Genoa of an apoplectic fit.

Dorothea does not appear to have paid a high price for her manipulation or wicked behaviour. She went on to have four children to William Kingman and remained married to him until his death in 1793 when she was in her early forties. She did not remarry and died in 1814 in London.

Now, all it needs for this comic opera to be complete is some musical genius to transport it to the stage, and hopefully, they will not portray Dorothea with too much sympathy!

#52 Ancestors: Sister

After writing about my grandmother’s brother with the trigger word of ” sister”, it seemed appropriate to look at her only sister Ethel Edith Chisholm.

My mother remembered that the two sisters did not get on and she recalled having no contact with her aunt after they left Brisbane to live in Sydney. Once again I turned to the “Chisholm Cameos” written by Audrey Barney to find some clues to her life.

To read more about her click here

# 52 Ancestors: Brother

Albert ChisholmWith the trigger word of ” brother”, it reminded me of my grandmother’s “missing” brother. I think it most likely that the connection was severed when her brother became a Baptist minister.

My grandmother, Hazel Annie Chisholm,  had separated from her husband after less than two years of marriage. She began a relationship with a Catholic who was the love of her life and my grandfather. When she sent her daughter to the local Catholic school I imagine that this would have been the final straw for Albert who had wholeheartedly become a Baptist. This would have meant strong opposition to divorce and the holding of anti-catholic/papist sentiments.

Thanks to his granddaughter, Robyn Rayner and the Chisholm family researcher, Audrey Barney, it is now possible to share his story. To read more about him click here

#52 Ancestors: Challenging

the drovers wifeToday women who take up the challenge of successfully combining home and family with a career are often labelled “superwomen”. Having attempted to do the same I greatly admire those women who from necessity or desire take this road and are able to balance their home and life without burning out. I used to think how great it would be to live in a time when men were the breadwinners and the women had only the responsibility to look after home and children.  One thing genealogy has taught me is that my female ancestors did not have an easy time, and I doubt that I could cope with the challenges they faced throughout their lives.

In tracing my ancestors, it is clear that households were a patriarchy; men controlled every aspect of the household. Women acted as subordinates to men. Men were the decision-makers usually in charge of all household finances even if their wife provided some income either through their dowry/inheritance or by selling produce that she grew or made. The man was the owner of all property of the household and women rarely spoke against or divorced their husband. Women could not vote, own land while married, go to a university, earn equal wages, enter many professions, and even report domestic abuse. Would I be willing to live without my education, my work and the recognition of my contribution to our family and the community as a whole…definitely not!

My ancestors were middle class and the women were responsible for running the household, for cooking and feeding the family, tending the garden and animals, raising their children and of course, seeing their husband’s needs were met. While I nod my head thinking I could probably do that then I remember not only the labour-saving devices we have today but also that simplest of “luxuries”; running water at the turn of a tap, sewerage whisked away unseen, light and heating at the touch of a button So no thanks, I will forgo that challenge as well.

My 2x great grandmother, Margaret Henderson (nee Crosby), gave birth to eleven children between 1838 and 1858, or the average of one child every two years. All except one infant survived to adulthood. Women assumed that after marriage children would follow promptly and regularly and that is certainly the case with nearly all my married female ancestors who had at least six children unless they died in childbirth. With no birth control, the prevailing sense was that children just ‘came’ and that there was little to be done about it, besides it was also regarded as a married woman’s duty.  Babies were born at home, usually with the assistance of family or a “midwife” with no formal training. With no anaesthetics or antisepsis, childbirth was both dangerous and painful. Married women regarded it as their place to endure this suffering. Given most of my ancestors abided strictly by their religious beliefs I am sure the woman in labour was reminded of the quote from Genesis (3:16) while they were in labour “I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain, you shall bring forth children. Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.” So no thanks to that challenge as well!

My maternal ancestors were amazing when I think of the lives they endured. Would I take on the challenge of trying to live like them? The answer would have to be a definite no… I can already hear my husband suggesting that a “scold’s bridle” would be definitely needed for such an argumentative wife.

# 52 Ancestors: Legend

nla.obj-161909499-1

Bullock team pulling a loaded wagon along a country road, New South Wales. Fairfax archive of glass plate negatives. National Library of Australia.

My great-great granduncle,  Lynn III Shepherd, had a bullock team. Born in 1862 he had watched his father, Lynn II Shepherd, digging the goldfields, to make enough to support his family.  Lynn figured there was more gold to be made supplying the diggers rather than digging in the dirt in the hope of the big find that never happened.

A bullocky, as they were known, tramped everywhere, carting impossible loads to near impossible places, their plodding and the ruts of their wagons slowly building the paths that we travel today as roads, their camps turning into villages that became today’s country towns and regional cities. Lynn was well known in his trade as a carrier at the beginning of the twentieth century when the bullock-drawn wagons gave way to motorised vehicles. According to family history, a poem was written about him and I think that would justify calling him a legend.

When Bully Buys the Engine

Ye carriers, all list to my lay ;
We’ll shortly have to clear away,
For Bully is about, they say,

To buy a traction engine.

And he’s going to travel day and night
To drive us off the road for spite ;
We’ll have a spree, and we’ll all get tight,

When Bully buys the engine.

He’ll draw all corn, and flour, and lime,
Forty tons he’ll take each time ;
Be jabbers, boys, ’twill be sublime

When Bully buys the engine. 

All business folk he will entice
To give him their loading at his price ;
We all must keep as quiet as mice

When Bully buys the engine.

The carriers’ trade he’ll surely spoil,
Play havoc with Scotch Jock and Doyle;
But we’ll be saved a lot of toil

When Bully buys the engine.

And those who families have to keep
Can get their groceries then quite cheap ;
Poor folk will have more time to sleep

When Bully buys the engine.

Though strange to some no doubt ’twill seem
To have their goods brought up by team ;
Jack Holder swears he’ll pawn his team

When Bully buys the engine.

We’ll want no Government men, nor chocks ;
There’ll bo no work for horse or ox ;
We’ll need no long wire rope nor blocks

When Bully buys the engine.

Of passengers, too, he’ll get his whack ;
There’ll be no call for Paddy and Jack ;
All hands, of course, must clear the track

When Bully buys the engine.

As a driver, too, won’t Yacka shine
There’ll be fire and smoke all down the line;
Old Sullivan vows that be’Il resign

When Bully buys the engine.

For he’ll want the road all on his own ;
He’ll shake up Pooley and Malone ;
And Tim will want more planks and stone

When Bully boys the engine.

On Jellamatong we’ll see a dredge.
And o’er the stepping stones a bridge,
And the Rover says he’ll take the pledge

When Bully buys the engine.

 

(The Braidwood Dispatch and Mining Journal. 3 Jan 1906)