Genealogical Oddities (LXI): Englishman John Berman's 1770 Málaga Marriage

At Málaga's church of San Juan on 20 August 1770, Juan Berman, native of the town of Castar or Castur 'in the Kingdom of England, having joined our Holy Mother Church', the son of Francisco Berman and María Berman, was married to María Ana de Arenas, daughter of Francisco de Arenas and Teresa García, natives of Málaga.

I assume the English family's original names would have been John Berman, Francis Berman and Mary _____ ; Castor near Peterborough seems one possible place of origin for them, though there may be others.

SOURCE: Archivo Histórico Diocesano de Málaga, parish of San Juan, Marriages 1769-1780 (Legajo 462), P. 35 v.

Genealogical Oddities (XXXIV): A 19th century British Major's Spanish Daughter

On 21 July 1813 at the garrison parish of San Fernando (then known as Isla de León) near the city of Cádiz, a girl named María Rosa Dolores was baptised. Born on the 2nd of that month, she was stated to be the daughter of Doña María Josefa Vitini, native of Cádiz; and of George Wilkinson, 'Comandante' of His Britannic Majesty's Artillery, whose origin is given only as 'England'.

Peninsular War buffs or Wilkinson family historians may perhaps know more precise details of this Major George Wilkinson to whose service record the above achievement may be added!

SOURCE: Military Parish of San Francisco, San Fernando-Isla de León, Baptisms 1812-1815, Page 85o; Navy Museum Archive, Madrid.

Genealogical Oddities (XIII): An indigent (Flemish) Captain

Life after combat has never been easy for the wounded warrior and is not today either, as some of the stories of young men returning from Iraq or Helmand Province show us only too well. But next Remembrance Day (or Veterans Day, if you're in the US) spare a thought for Captain Juan Meyer.

On 27 July 1719 a veteran appeared before a notary in Madrid to execute an affidavit that was entered in the notary's register as a 'Declaration of Poverty'. In fact, it tells more of a story than that. Juan Bautista Mayer (or Meyer, as he signed his name) stated that he was formerly a Captain of the Cuirassiers in the regiment of 'Monsieur Gaitan' in the Army of Flanders. He states that he is in poor health and resides with Lieutenant-General Don Juan Idiáquez, 'in whose home and at whose expense I have lived for a long time now'. Mayer goes on to certify that he is not married, has no children and no close family, and so as he could expect no resources or intervention from any other quarter when the time came, he wanted to explicitly designate General Idiáquez as the person charged with making whatever funeral and burial arrangements for Captain Mayer as the General should see fit.

In other words, Mayer had to make sure that he left someone proper written permission to bury him. Bureaucracy...

SOURCE: Records of notary Domingo de Munilla y Zuazo, Archivo Histórico de Protocolos de Madrid, Legajo 14222.

Heraldry of an Annulled Knight

One may wonder if there are any heraldic consequences to Sir Fred Goodwin's loss of his knighthood, a matter receiving a great deal of media attention today. I've not been able to find any reference to his having received a grant of arms and it may simply be that the great man was so busy in the years following 2004 that he had no time to petition for arms.

In any event, as he was a Knight Bachelor I believe the heraldic import of this turn of events would simply be that he loses the right to adorn depictions of his arms with the badge and ribbon appropriate to said honour. [The heraldic equivalent of a ceremony similar to Alfred Dreyfus' degradation as shown in a famous contemporary engraving - wonder if this could now be re-enacted outside RBS HQ in Gogarburn?]

Sadly, as I say I could find no illustration of Sir Fred's coat of arms from which to depict the removal of said ribbon and badge, so I've had to come up with my own. Not having had my second coffee of the day I cannot yet blazon the full achievement save for the central charge, an increasingly common one in austerity-era heraldry, a clutch of Pounds Squandered. Also I was unsure whether present heraldic practice makes a Baton Sinister or Bordure Gobony more appropriate so to be on the safe side I've used both, no doubt equally richly deserved.

Genealogical Oddities (XI): Yorkshire Lad in Madrid, 1749

On January 12th 1749 a Madrid notary recorded the last will of a bedridden English Catholic whose name he wrote as Ricardo Semson. The spelling of the surname suspect and may perhaps correctly be Simson, Simpson, Samson or something else; unfortunately, Ricardo - or Richard - was unable to sign his will and dispel our doubts. The notary recorded Richard as a native of 'LittleBorro, Yorserhire', and the son of Ricardo Semson and his wife Maria. Richard stated that he was married, naming his wife as Isabel Semson (which I take to mean that he married in England, not Spain, as in the Spanish custom womens' surnames do not change upon their marriage). Richard and Isabel/Elizabeth had two children, named in the will as Juan and Francisca (so that would be John and Frances Semson) who, according to their father, resided in London in 1749. The witness to this will was Dr. Edmund O'Doran, Richard's confessor (who himself died later that year). Sadly, the will does not enlighten us as to what Richard was doing in Madrid when he took ill and died, far from his family in London - and 'Yorserhire'.

SOURCE: Madrid Notarial Archive, Records of Notary Feliciano Coxezes de Velasco, Bundle 14604 Page 321

Genealogical Oddities (IV): An English Minstrel in Colonial Puerto Rico

Finding intriguing people in unexpected places is one of the joys of genealogical research. If nothing else, it helps take away the sting of not finding exactly what one was looking for.

While searching the official record of the prosecution of a colonial governor of Puerto Rico by his successor, among the witness statements I came across someone who was a long way from home.

Baltasar de Andino was a nephew of the disgraced governor (Gaspar Martínez de Andino) and was being kept under lock and key in San Juan. In early September 1688, the younger Andino made a daring escape and the colonial authorities began rounding up anyone who may have assisted him in his flight.

One of those questioned was an Englishman, referred to as Antonio Daniel, who apparently had been summoned to Andino's cell on two evenings preceding his escape, in order to provide a little light entertainment - ennui is such a problem in steaming Caribbean dungeons. Daniel testified that on one evening all he performed was a little sleight of hand, such as cutting a kerchief in half and then putting it back together. On the following evening he also played the guitar and castanets. Daniel indicated that he had gone to the castle because he'd been sent word that Andino asked for him expressly; and Andino had rewarded him for his performances. Asked if he understood the legal implications of being under oath, Daniel stated that he did, he was already a convert to Catholicism, and had given testimony under oath previously. He gave his age as about 25, and - as noted by the Spanish scribe who recorded the statement - 'signed it in his own language' as Anttony Danial.

Where was he from? How did he get there? How on earth did he end up as a song-and-dance man in a Spanish colony? What ever happened to him? Did he leave any descendants?

So many questions suggested by just a couple of paragraphs hastily read while searching for something else.

Whoever Antony Daniel was, it's a pity he was born three centuries too soon to become a performer on one of Royal Caribbean's cruises to San Juan.

SOURCE - Archivo General de Indias, Escribanía, Legajo 136C, p. 105

Genealogical Oddities (III) - Yorkshire Lad in Cádiz: the Spanish marriage of a recusant baronet's son

Gascoigne of Parlington Hall

The records of the Spanish city of Cádiz are a veritable treasure trove for a wide-ranging swathe of genealogists. The city's pre-eminent commercial position in the 18th century attracted individuals from all over Europe, and the records left by its vibrant population of Irish 'Wild Geese' are well known to - and treasured by - researchers with an interest in Hibernian families.

This is far from being the extent of the non-Spanish gems in Cádiz records. Recently while examining records of Cádiz' cathedral I stumbled across a good example.

The marriage register for 1722-1729 bears on Page 219 an entry for the marriage, on 24 September 1727, of 'Don Juan Gascoygne' of 'Parlinton, Obispado Eboracense', son of John Gascoigne and María Widdrington; to 'Doña Margarita Patricia Ana María Ley', a native of Cádiz, daughter of Lorenzo Ley and Catalina Warnes. The witnesses were Fray Francisco Ley, of the Barefoot Franciscans, and Don Lorenzo Carew.

The connexions of both 'Lorenzos' - Lawrence Ley and Lawrence Carew (of the Waterford Carews) - have already been extensively analysed and written up in Spanish publications; but until now this link to the recusant Gascoignes of Parlington Hall had, I believe, escaped notice. This couple is mentioned in the published version of Dugdale's visitation of Yorkshire (Vol. III, P. 102) in which the bride's name is rendered as 'Anna Leigh' with no particulars of her origin or eventual fate.

Assorted publications state that John Gascoigne died in June 1729 without issue, but as no source is given for this information, nor is the place of death recorded, it would perhaps be as well to double-check this at some future date. His widow, Margarita Patricia Ley, remarried in 1730 and had at least one child by her second husband: Francisco de Paula VanHalen Ley.

SOURCES: Records of the Sagrario chapel, Cathedral of Cádiz - J.W. Clay, Dugdale's Visitation of Yorkshire, With Additions (1917) - Index to wills, Archivo Histórico Provincial de Cádiz - Fréderique Morand, Doña María Gertrudis Hore (1742-1801), vivencia de una poetisa gaditana entre el siglo y la clausura (2003)

A Call to ARMS

A few years ago I had occasion to visit an art exhibit of some sort in the crypt gallery of London's church of St Pancras. Quite what the exhibit was eludes me; it proved less memorable than the variety of broken armorial funeral monuments spread rather haphazardly around the crypt. I don't know whether these monuments were formerly inside the church itself, or had been in the crypt and were shunted to one side to make way for the more modern attractions. One particularly fine specimen featured highly detailed palm trees and some sort of tropical motif, perhaps alluding to service by the deceased in some far-flung corner of the Empire; alas, it had been broken into more than one piece so I could not photograph it fully assembled.

Sadly, I do not have as many opportunities to haunt crypts as I would like, so I cannot say if many armorial monuments come to this sort of distressing end. One fears though that they may, and wishes that there were some sort of museum or repository where such unwanted heraldic art could be displayed and enjoyed - the Armorial Refuse Museum, or ARMS for short?