Category: Genealogy Posts

Facebook post #059 (Mar 2021)

1789. La Trinneté, Jèrri (Jersey). A baby girl is born to a father yearning for his own piece of land. He was my 5th gt-grandfather, Moïse Picot: she was named Susanne. A few years later, Susanne watched her father look over that new piece of land, by First Tower, a mile or so from Saint Hélyi town.

The No. 1 Martello tower had been built ten years earlier to defend St Helier against the French. It hadn’t worked – the French had grown impatient of Jersey pirates threatening the American Revolution. On Old Christmas Day, 6 January 1781, using renegade intelligence, they sailed 30 small boats across the 12 miles of sea into a narrow channel on the SE corner of the island. One or two thousand troops marched the ten miles to town, and took command. The governor ordered surrender, but the English garrison fought on and drove out the invaders. This was the last attempt by France to control the island, (which has also never been part of England, Britain, the UK or the EU).

At First Tower, Moïse almost wept at the immensity of the task ahead of him in converting sand dunes into productive land. But he set to work. They lived in Almon Cottage (pic) which stayed in the family until the 1990s. The community was scattered, and nothing could be taken for granted. Bread was made at home, a task which fell to young Susanne. Soon she was making extra, and hawking it around the fishermen’s cottages. In 1808, she married Pierre Le Brun, a shoemaker.

Since the French débâcle, French names had been going out of fashion, and later records have the couple as Peter and Susan. (This never applied universally, and most street names in town are given in two languages to this day – but the alternative names are not usually synonyms. About two thirds of the population identify as native Jèrriais, but only about 3% speak the language.)

Susan kept baking, and formally set up in business in 1824, immediately opposite First Tower. This was also the year that Susan gave birth to the fifth of her eight children. By the 1851 census, her eldest son, also Pierre/Peter, had taken over the shoemaking from his father, and her husband had joined her in the bakery business. Like many Jèrriais, Peter Jr. spent time at sea, but when his father died, he took over the bakery.

When I visited Jersey in 1997, the first thing I saw as I drove off the ferry was an enormous Mother’s Pride bakery. However, the Le Brun Bakehouse was still there on the corner opposite First Tower. It was now a café, and we enjoyed cake baked on the premises. Even better, the Old Bakehouse (pic) was still in the family.

Peter’s son Moses was born in 1859, and by 1871 he was part of the business. His older brother was a carpenter nearby, with his widowed mother being the head of the household. Later in the decade, Moses had the good fortune to meet a woman as formidable as his grandmother: Esther Elizabeth De Gruchy.

In 1880, they married on Portsea Island, Hampshire (more on this anon). Esther joined the business, and became its driving force, alongside – needless to say – bringing up four young children. In 1881, they employed two men and a boy. They worked hard to develop the business and it remained the island’s main bakery.

Sadly, Moses took to drink; he was dead within six years, leaving Esther a widow at age 28. With fortitude, she continued looking after the business and its employees and the four children. In time, her son Jack helped out. The business remained prosperous, and they were able to keep a servant to help out domestically. My Mum’s second cousin, Antoinette Herivel, posted online a lovely hand-coloured photo of the children from about 1892.

Esther was sometimes taken as a companion by her sister-in-law on trips to Europe, especially Germany, a popular destination at the time. They even named their house after Waldeck, a German county. It feels like a long way from 1789 – but also from 1914.

The business apparently continued through WWI, and Jack took over the business when his mother died in 1922. His wife apparently made all her own clothes and loved to gossip in Jèrriais. His brother went into shipping, and became learned in Jersey history. One sister married a man in a similar line and emigrated to Australia. More on younger sister Elsie soon.

The main bakery business was purchased in 1938 by Ralph Le Marquand, brother of a Jersey Senator. Then, from 30 June 1940, Jersey was occupied by Nazi Germany (see post 12). The initial shock was mitigated by a polite and professional occupying force operating via the local government.

As the war progressed, life became progressively harsher and morale declined. The population became aware of forced labour on the new fortifications and sinister underground ‘hospital’. The family told me of harsh punishments if radios were discovered and the fear involved in undeclared flour milling. The winter of 1944-45 was very cold and the population was on the point of starvation. Relief from the Red Cross, and liberation on 9 May 1945, could not have come soon enough.

The bakery was expanded after WWII, and moved locally, and then moved again in the 1980s from the residential area to an industrial estate. However, it had lost its leading position – a traditional baker unable to compete with modern food processing and ‘loss leading’ by the supermarkets. It changed hands in 2007 and was renamed, and finally closed in 2013.

Facebook post #056 (Feb 2021)

Last week we were in 1871, and left John Traviss Squire boarding in Sheffield, a 15-year-old solicitor’s articled clerk. At the time, his 16-year-old future wife Harriet Green was at home with her iron founder father William (post 53) five miles north on Ecclesfield Common.

John and Harriet married in 1880 and shortly afterwards moved to Birdhurst Road, Wandsworth, where they still lived in 1891. From here, John would have commuted by rail to Waterloo (the line was extended in 1854), walked over the old Waterloo Bridge, and turned right along the Thames. This was the amazing new Victoria Embankment, which provided modern sewerage, so John would have been spared the Great Stink (see post 44), and his way would have been lit by Britain’s first electric street lighting.

He worked as an Assistant Solicitor for the Inland Revenue – Income tax had been introduced in 1842. I imagine the sight of Somerset house would have impressed our John from Barnsley every day, as it did me when I finally visited last year.

Somerset House also held all England’s birth, marriage and death records since the start of registration in 1837. I was surprised to discover that John had taken a pioneering interest in these records, and had undertaken a local study of Wandsworth, and particularly of Huguenots (for reason unknown). His work is still being used as a source: I even found it cited in Wikipedia.

John liked a pint – actually a quart! I cleaned up his old tankard a few years ago, gradually making out the words chiselled on the base. The first word around the base was “Duke”, which looked promising… Then, eventually, I worked out that it said ‘Duke of York, Cheapside, Barnsley’! There are pictures online of this pub being knocked down… Across the middle, it says ‘Cricketers, Kingston’. More luck this time: I was able to take a pint here from John’s tankard a few years ago.

John also played the violin – Uncle Eddie Squire once sent me a picture. Some of his books survive, including a music book (pic) and some learned tomes, such as a Pope with the plea to ‘Return Duly with the corners of the leaves NOT TURNED DOWN’, a doodled Byron, a Voltaire in French, and sundry battered Latin tomes.

John died in 1894, aged 39. Update: Christopher Squire has shared the rumour that he was found dead in a railway carriage on return from a work assignment in York. A sad pre-echo of my grandad’s end… or could there have been foul play? But we have an update!

For several years he had held an appointment at Somerset House. Last week he was on business in Bolton and Wakefield, and being unwell, came to Barnsley. Typhoid developed, and he was removed to the hospital, where he died.

Leeds Mercury 15 Nov 1894

As is often the way, less is known of Gt-Gt Gran Harriet. It can’t have been easy as a young widow. In 1901 and 1911, she was in Kingston upon Thames with her surviving children. Kingston is named after the King’s Stone, the coronation stone of King Æthelstan (post 54) and others.

Given his tankard’s inscription, perhaps John moved there late in his short life. My Grandad John, the couple’s grandson John (post 51) was born there.

Harriet died in 1941, nearly 50 years after John’s passing, having lived through WWI, and the WWII blitz when 447 bombs dropped on Kingston. Extended widowhood was sadly normal for the Squires: both his grandfathers were outlived by decades by their widows, as were his son, Alfred E Squire and grandson, John Squire.

Facebook post #054 (Jan 2020)

The arrival of the English did not immediately finish Elmet, land of my mother’s fathers. Before there was a Leeds or a Sheffield, there was an elm forest of mythology guarding Yr Hen Ogledd – The Old North. In these parts, Camelot was at Camulodunum in the Elmet, on the Roman road East to Eboracum (later York). In the late 6th century, English from Bernicia encroached on Eboracum and the Pennines. In 597 or so, a warband of North British warriors and foot soldiers, including Madog of Elmet, took to the battlefield at Catterick to resist. They were crushed.

Perhaps the inhabitants still hoped that the King of Deira (Lincolnshire) would leave them in peace, fostered as he was by my undoubted ancestor, King of the Britons, in Gwynedd (Cadfan ap Iago, 6th gt-grandson of Cunedda – post #034). But it was not to be – Edwin invaded this last British outpost in 617 and established a royal vil at Camulodunum. In 627, following an assassination attempt by the King of Wessex, Edwin was christened with all his court. It didn’t help him – he was killed and burned in the Elmet vil by the pagan Mercians. Hilda, one of his court, survived to found Whitby Abbey.

In 866, The Great Heathen Army (of Danes) swept all before them and thus was born Yorkshire, God’s Own County. (Nevertheless, the Elmet is genetically distinct to this day.) In 927, Æthelstan overthrew the Danes in York, and England was finally united. Ten years later, he defeated Scots and Scandinavians at the Battle of Brunanburh: “never yet as many people killed before this with sword’s edge… since the east Angles and Saxons came up over the broad sea”. As thanks for this victory, he gave the manors at Sherburn in Elmet and Cawood to the Archbishop of York. The palace at Sherburn was used as a hunting lodge by the Archbishops, and the associated church was wealthy.

In September 1066, the militia was called up after reports that Scarborough had been burned. With reinforcements from across Mercia and Northumberland, they crossed the River Ouse at Fulford, ten miles or so beyond Sherburn. Here they met the invading Norwegian army of King Harald. The battle-hardened Norwegians pushed the English back into the marshes and the Ouse, securing the last Viking victory. King Harold had to march his troops up from London to deal with the Norwegians and then back down to the south coast to face the Norman invasion. The victorious Normans harried the North, laying waste to many manors in Yorkshire as they crushed any resistance.

Despite the hardness of these times, the Domesday Book shows no drop in income in Sherburn and there was continuity in the Church of Rome, albeit with French-speaking senior clergy. Around 1100 the Saxon church was replaced by that which still stands (pic), much augmented since. The palace had fallen into ruin by 1361, so the Archbishop had it demolished and the stone used in the building of the choir at York Minster. It was apparently replaced by a fortified manor house at Rest Park, just outside the village (license to crenellate: 1383).

In 1422, despite being less than a year old, King Henry VI of England succeeded to the French throne. The arrangement worked well enough until Henry was old enough to get involved in affairs of state: by 1453 he had lost all of France, except for Calais, and had a nervous breakdown. By the time he had recovered his senses, the Lord Protector, Richard of York, was considered a popular alternative. Not for the first time, disputed succession led to war. King Henry’s Lancastrian army eventually gained the upper hand but when a fearful London would not open its gates, they withdrew to York. In March 1461, Edward of York was crowned as a rival King and marched north. After a skirmish at Ferrybridge, the Lancastrians fell back to Tadcaster; the Yorkists made camp at Sherburn in Elmet. The rival forces were huge – anything up to 100,000 men in total – up to 5% of all Englishmen and a much higher share of the young.

The Battle of Towton was fought on 29 March 1461, on the open plain between the villages of Saxton (by Sherburn) and Towton. It was probably the largest and bloodiest battle ever fought on English soil. Soldiers fought for hours amidst a snowstorm. Up to half, perhaps 28,000, were killed in the battle and the ensuing rout of the Lancastrians. Showers of razor-sharp arrows rained down on the lightly armoured retreating men, and they were cut down by sword, mace and hammer. Early cannon were used (less than ten years after they brought about the Fall of Constantinople); evidence has even been found of very early handguns. Henry fled and was deposed. When I visited, 550 years later, there were fresh flowers and Palm Sunday crosses on the monument.

Within living memory of Towton, in around 1540, Rest Park was dissolved, along with Whitby Abbey and the other monasteries. The oldest records of the local area date to this period, and my oldest known ancestor, John Squire, was born there in the same year. His son James (1566), grandson Edward (1608) and great grandson Edward (1647) were born in Saxton.

Two years earlier was the Battle of Sherburn in Elmet, the last battle of the First English Civil War. The village had changed hands four times. The royalists, under Sir Marmaduke Langdale, had gained the upper hand but as reinforcements arrived for both sides, Lord George Rigby mistook the men fleeing through Sherburn’s streets as being from his own side, and swiftly departed. Langdale’s cavalrymen could not stand alone: 700 men, and the arms and the weapons piled up in Sherburn’s streets, were captured. So was Digby’s coach, containing all the royalists’ secret plans in his correspondence with the King.

Edward Squire’s son was also Edward (1671) – born and died in Sherburn in 1736, the latter at least probably at Rest Park. The next two Edwards were born (in 1696 and 1743) at Rest Park. The next Edward died young and the manor (or perhaps its tenancy from the bishop) was inherited by John Squire (1784). I have a pile of copies of lengthy handwritten wills for these generations. Some years ago, I met an eight cousin online who had employed a professional researcher and confirmed most of the line. As a result, I met an eleventh cousin!

There was a bill before the Commons in 1797, providing that “divers low grounds in the Selby district, including Rest Park, be more effectually drained, preserved and improved, and the commons and waste grounds be inclosed, divided and allotted unto the land owners.” In 1840, the York & North Midland Railway came to Sherburn – it runs through Rest Park. In 1848, John had a vote in the Election of a Knight of the Shire for the West Riding of Yorkshire, in consequence of the removal of Lord Morpeth to the House of Lords.

The next Edward inherited the farm, so his younger brother, my 3rd gt-grandad, Alfred (1820), had to move on… More anon…

Facebook post #053 (Jan 2021)

Back in Post #046, I promised some metal-bashers from Mum’s side. So, my 3rd great grandfather, William Green, was born in 1823 in Darfield nr Barnsley. By 1851, he’d married Mary Rowland, and was farming 180 acres in Stainborough Folds, also nr Barnsley.

Mary was born in Saxton-in-Elmet and was daughter of Richard Rowland. Richard was born in Ireland, and worked on the Parlington Hall estate of the Gascoigne family as a gamekeeper. The Gascoignes also held the estate of Castle Oliver, Limerick, Ireland – and let the estates decay by turn. I visited Parlington to photograph its Triumphal Arch (pic), probably unique in British monumental architecture as it celebrates a British defeat – in the American War of Independence. George IV (post #049) apparently made it up from Brighton for lunch on one occasion but refused to pass through the unpatriotic arch. Parlington Hall has largely been demolished but I did happen to photo the gamekeeper’s cottage (pic) – before I knew about Richard.

William’s brother was a miller in Darfield, another family member was a miller on Ecclesfield Common, Sheffield, and another – John Green – had a foundry next door. William set up a small foundry himself – on West Bar Green, Sheffield – to manufacture small tools. He took out a patent relating to cooking equipment in 1855. By 1861, he had inherited the Ecclesfield foundry and he and Mary – with five of their eventual nine children – had moved to the Common. He was employing 13 men at the foundry; by 1871, this had risen to 28 men and 12 boys.

According to one source, Green’s were among the first to manufacture small, compact, portable cooking ranges for emigrants who undertook the long treks by ‘covered wagons’ across to America’s west (pic). This probably dated back to John Green’s time but the wagon trails were still in use into the 1860s.

By 1889, William was still operating both premises. The Ecclesfield foundry was now known as the Norfolk Foundry (see pic), and powered by the old mill’s water wheel. The company were ‘Manufacturers of all kinds of cooking ranges, grill stoves, hot plates, confectioners’ ovens, steam closets, gas hobs and carving tables, stove grates, tile registers, dog grates, mantels, and overmantels, kerbs, fenders, ash pans etc. I found an advertisement for a neat combination fireplace and oven (pic) – a real example is preserved at Abbeydale Industrial Hamlet (pic).

Later directories show Green’s to also have been makers of ships’ galley and cabin stoves – and even of steam hammers, sluice gates and lock gates. During both world wars the company supplied catering equipment to all three of the armed forces. Pictured is a US patent for a military camp kitchen, filed in 1916. A relative, Walter Green made penknives until the 1940s.

Green’s withdrew from stove grate production during the late 1960s but continued with the manufacture of large scale catering equipment (I found a metal label from this time – see pic) and sub-contract castings. This side was bought out by local competitor Brightside Engineering, and closed in 1983-4. The site has been occupied by a Morrisons supermarket since 1997, and there are, apparently, historical pictures in the entrance foyer. The West Bar showroom became an ironmongers, and heating and plumbing distributors: it closed in 1980.