Skip to content

Fudging it, genealogically

I can’t remember when I first held this up to the light.

Maybe before, but maybe not until after cousin Dick had pulled a copy of the municipal record from the City of New York, showing a different date.

Maybe before, but maybe not until after I had spent a year in European archives, carefully inspecting the erasures and corrections on thousand-year-old parchments by ultraviolet light.

At any rate it is readily apparent when you look at this certificate — a nice piece of engraving, but at some point folded up in someone’s pocket — that it has been tampered with:

Yes, they were married in June, not March. And yes, their first child, Eddie, was born the day after Christmas. The math isn’t hard.

(Continued)

[De] Vere Stapleton: a bolt from the blue

This is one of those amazing genealogical synergisms, and it has a moral: get your brick walls online.

My wife’s great-grandmother Mary (Nye) Scott (1882-1965)

mary.jpg

— came from an old Great-Migration family in Massachusetts, the Nyes. But her mother Cora (Continued)

King of Man? Uh, right.

This corpulent—and presumably tailless—Manx pretender gives American interest in premodern genealogy a bad name. Michael Andrews-Reading on his dedicated website, and other posters on the Usenet group rec.heraldry, have already reviewed the pretensions of David Howe. Much of what has been unearthed—even from Howe’s own pen—suggests that a profit motive may lie behind the patently unconvincing claim of an abandoned title, the posting of an ungrammatical, logically incoherent, and legally meaningless notice in the London Gazette, and the diligent but hamhanded efforts to bend Wikipedia to his purpose of a free publicity machine. If this is not in fact the case, then Howe has an extraordinary combination of naïveté and stubbornness—far beyond the ordinary flush of self-importance that amateur genealogists (especially we Americans) often exhibit when we discover some royal descent in our trees. Either way it seems obvious from the newsmedia that Howe has energetically orchestrated publicity for his charade and one must wonder why.

What I cannot decide is which scenario—Howe the fraud or Howe the fool—makes American interest in premodern ancestry look worst? Either way I foresee that this episode will do no service to the community of people, within the US and abroad, who are curious about such things as descent from premodern notables, or the constitutional or cultural afterlives of feudalism. As Americans, of course, our constitution has given us the right to smugly ignore all distinctions between real aristocrats and fake ones, and as a consequence (well, as a consequence of that, and of the dumbing down of modern society) our media are notoriously inept at it. But many people (even some of us Americans) have the tools and the specialized knowledge to tell one from the other. Should we be obliged to stir to set the record straight for the rest of them? Perhaps. (takes pen in hand…)

mystery man in a mourning brooch

My wife’s family has handed down to us an interesting trio of early case photos, Daguerreotypes, all meticulously well identified. But from my father’s family in Kentucky have come a couple that alas remain unidentified! One is a hand-colored Ambrotype under glass in a typical mid-19th century case (photo after the jump). Another image is probably printed on paper, but set under glass into what appears to be a gold (or siver gilt) brooch: is this a mourning image? Can anyone identify its vintage from the photo (clothing style) and also from the brooch? Here he is, the mystery man:

Big lapels, satin waistcoat, straight tie. Is this about 1870 or so? Here (below the jump) is the Ambrotype: (Continued)

The palace of Diego Gómez (2: Diego Gómez frieze)

[Part of a series of posts and pages dedicated to Sancha de Ayala]

Here we continue to look at the palace of the parents of Sancha de Ayala, which has since become the Franciscan convent of Santa Isabel de los Reyes, Toledo. The convent’s ‘sala capitular’ (chapter, or meeting room) was once a formal room of the palace with an elaborate stone carved frieze, with an inscription, running around the upper crown molding and framing the elaborate Mudejar arches. The room was subsequently renovated and one wall of the frieze is lost.

1sala7.jpg

(As before, these pictures are all drawn from Balbina Martínez Caviro, Mudéjar toledano: palacios y conventos [Madrid, 1980].) The frieze was made in 1361, by Sancha de Ayala’s father, Diego Gómez (Continued)

The palace of Diego Gómez (1: Tomb of Fernán Gómez)

[Part of a series of posts and pages dedicated to Sancha de Ayala]

The palace of Diego Gómez, one of the magnificent Mudejar-Gothic palaces in the old heart of the city of Toledo, long ago became the Franciscan convent of Santa Isabel de los Reyes; but it has only recently (2005) become a “convent-museum” with increased public access. His daughter Sancha de Ayala has a certain genealogical cachet as a ‘gateway’ ancestor linking medieval Spanish ancestry to numerous Anglo-American descendants (along with Eleanor of Castile or the daughters of Pedro the Cruel, but not too many others). Daughter of a well-connected minor noble family caught in the web of civil strife in the reign of Pedro the Cruel, and further caught in the web of the English interventions in Spanish affairs, she went to England as lady-in-waiting to a queen-in-exile, Constance, wife of John of Gaunt, joining the minor English nobility with her marriage to Sir Walter Blount (a trusted follower of Gaunt, who had diplomatic and military experience in Spain).

Sancha’s life prior to her migration to England is difficult to flesh out for those who have little familiarity with Spain (or Spanish) or medieval lives more generally. But she is relatively unusual—and unusually accessible—because her paternal and maternal family houses are preserved in essentially medieval condition; they would be recognizable to her if she were to visit them now. Her mother’s ancestral compound we’ll look at later—it is a castle in the countryside of Alava, near Bilbao. Her father’s palace is in the heart of the old city of Toledo. Here is one of the exterior doors, built by Sancha’s brother Pedro Suárez de Toledo (and bearing his—and her—paternal and maternal arms):

isabel.jpg

(Continued)

Merovingians among us?

I recently noticed a fresh hereditary society here in the United States, whose membership requirement is proof of descent from Merovech, the legendary founder of the Frankish royal dynasty, who would have lived in the mid fifth century if he were real: the Order of the Merovingian Dynasty.

The website states that it was “conceived of and organized” in September, 2004, by 23 founding members. Of all the various hereditary societies out there, the fact that this one exists at all belies any claimed rigor for membership.

Tucked into the website in a couple of places is a genealogical line from Charlemagne to Merovech. The path used is the one attaching Bertrada of Prüm to Theuderic III. The principal cited authority: Roderick Stuart’s Royalty for Commoners (also cited elsewhere on the site: that chestnut Holy Blood, Holy Grail).

The inconvenient truth for this particular lineage society is of course that there is no proved descent from any member of the Merovingian dynasty to any later medieval or modern person. They were subjected to the triple historical indignities of usurpation by the Carolingian Pippin, damnatio memoriae in the Carolingian accounts of that usurpation (such as Einhard’s Vita Karoli magni), and finally the broad early-medieval problem of the scarcity of written records. The result is that a large and many-branched family appears to peter out in the historical record. The most accessible careful prosopography of this family is Christian Settipani’s book, La préhistoire des Capétiens, Nouvelle histoire généalogique de l’auguste maison de France, gen. ed. Patrick Van Kerrebrouck, vol. 1 part 1 (Villeneuve d’Asq: Patrick Van Kerrebrouck, 1993). With detailed and thorough citations to both primary sources and the interpretive secondary literature, Settipani summarizes each (if not all) of the commonly claimed gateways from the Merovingian dynasty. The assertion that Bertrada, founder of the abbey of Prüm, was of Merovingian royal blood, is not implausible but it was a suggestion, first made by Maurice Chaume, based essentially on onomastics (the fact that members of her family appear to have used names also found in the royal dynasty). Merovech isn’t directly attested in contemporary literature, but is later reputed to be the father of Childeric, whose grave near Tournai, opened in the 17th century, revealed such interesting things as the enigmatic gold and cloisonné bees and the now familiar gold signet ring:

gold_bees.jpg seal_ring.jpg

Elsewhere I’ve written on some other American lineage societies based on medieval ancestry. Of all these groups—of questionable social, genealogical, or civic value—this Merovingian group, which is a piggy-back group on the ‘Order of the Crown of Charlemagne‘, is the most self-evidently silly. For an interesting window into the world of lineage societies, I recommend perusal of the ‘Hereditary Society Community‘ website, sort of a consortium or governing council.

Inbreeding in Gloucester (Riggs & Haraden)

I’ve known for a long time about the many duplications in my grandfather’s Gloucester ancestry. With the forthcoming publication of an article on the probable English origins of Thomas Riggs of Gloucester (d. 1722), I looked back at my database and realized that in nine different lines my grandfather descends from five (!!!!!) of his children—Mary, Sarah, Ann, Thomas and Andrew. I also descend from two siblings of his wife Mary (Millett) Riggs, for a total of twelve unique descents from her parents, Thomas Millett and Mary Greenoway. Looking further, I found another contemporary Gloucester couple, Edward Haraden and his wife Sarah, from whom I also descend via five siblings—Mary, Edward, Ann, John and Benjamin.

My grandfather was born in 1896 just a couple of miles from the Thomas Riggs house in Annisquam, on the North coast of Cape Ann; his folks had been living and intermarrying in Lanesville, Annisquam, Riverdale, Dogtown, and Wheeler’s Point (all parts of Gloucester, along the north coast of Cape Ann) for 250 years. Asking around, I have heard from only one other person with a set of five siblings in his modern ancestry (in a similar coastal village—Kittery Point, Maine). Does anyone else out there have other examples of this? I wonder whether such things might not be found, in far fewer generations, within the pedigree of a kid in some polygynous patriarchal compound in southern Utah?

In coastal New England, at least, it seems wholesome enough — even picturesque. For a while I’ve been interested in visiting the Thomas Riggs house (pictured below, in a photo from a magazine article, on the house’s website).

riggshses.jpg

I haven’t yet got the chance.

medieval scroll: genealogy of jesus

For those interested in what genealogies looked like in the middle ages, I just noticed that one of the rare scroll-format versions of Peter of Poitiers’ Historical compendium in the [form of the] genealogy of Christ (Compendium historiae in genealogia Christi) is online. It is Harvard University, Houghton Library MS Typ 216.

david_rex.jpg

(Continued)

Another revolutionary officer

I just updated one of the four charts showing the Revolutionary ancestors of our children: the ‘quartier’ for my mother-in-law, Paula Fitts. See these charts and other ancestry items listed out here. Only some time after we moved to the area I realized that ancestors of my mother in law lay buried just four miles up the street, in the Newell Cemetery in Attleborough, Massachusetts. The ancestral path is via central Maine, and my in-laws (who now live even closer to this cemetery) had no idea of their Attleborough ancestry. Anyhow, I found that a Maine ancestor, Mary Robinson, was daughter of George and Zipporah (Allen) Robinson, of Attleborough. ‘Mr.’ George Robinson was a lieutenant in the Attleborough militia. The Z-names in this area are marvellous. George’s mother was a Zilpha (she is buried next to him, the small stone on the left in this photo):

georgeandzilpahrobinson7.jpg

George’s wife, Zipporah Allen, survived him and moved to Maine, so she’s not in the Newell Cemetery. But she was granddaughter of another Zipporah (Crane) Allen who has a remarkable curved sandstone marker nearby: (Continued)