What's in a name?

 What's in a name? 

One of the things that intrigues me about family history is the way names have been used throughout the generations.  The same names passed down the generations, the use of mother's maiden surnames as second given names for children, the so-called traditional naming patterns found in Ireland & Scotland and the patronymic naming system historically used in Scandinavia.

One example in my family tree is Marcus, so I thought it might be interesting to trace the various Marcus's back through the generations.  

MARCUS - according to Wikipedia, Marcus is an ancient name of Roman origins, most likely deriving from Mars, the Roman god of war. 

The current owner of the name is my nephew, my sister's son.  In the interest of privacy, I'm not going to elaborate on him. My sister named him in honour of our "Uncle" Mark, in reality my father's 2nd cousin Marcus Griffin (1921-1997).  His daughter and my sister are close in age and have been great friends since childhood.

In turn, Uncle Mark was named for his own uncle, Marcus Harvey Griffin (1867-1899), my 1st cousin twice removed. This Marcus was born in Ireland, the youngest in a family of 10 children.  He joined the Royal Army Medical Corps, serving in South Africa during the Boer War, where he died aged 32 in a railway accident at Pinetown in KwaZulu-Natal.

                                            The Transvaal War, Casualties at the Front. 

                             Illustration for The Illustrated London News, 30 December 1899.

                                                                      London Morning Post 8 December 1899

Going further back, it's reasonable to assume that Marcus Harvey Griffin was named for his mother's uncle Marcus Keane (1815-1883), my 3x great uncle.  At the time of her marriage in 1851, Marcus Keane gifted to his niece a cottage in Kilbaha, county Clare, which is still owned by her descendants today.  Marcus Keane is remembered for his role as a land agent for the extensive Conyngham and Westby estates, among others. His actions during the famine years in evicting tenant farmers from their small holdings made him very unpopular with the local people.  There are at least 7 other Marcus's who descend from the Keane family.

                                                  

                                                                   Marcus Keane of Beechpark 1815-1883

                                                                      photo from Pilkington Family Collection

Marcus's mother, Jane (nee Delahunty) had an uncle Marcus Delahunty (circa 1750-1814), my 5x great uncle.  I don't know much about him, but there are another 5 Marcus's down the line in the Delahunty family.

Once again, Marcus Delahunty appears to have been named for an uncle - his mother's brother Marcus Paterson (1712-1786), my 6x great-uncle.  This Marcus was a lawyer and politician. He became Solicitor General for Ireland, and Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas.  
Marcus Paterson - Wikipedia gives details of his career.

Marcus Paterson had a son and a nephew also named Marcus, from whom at least another three Marcus Paterson's descend.  

There is a Rev. Marcus Paterson who is a contemporary of this Marcus's father Montrose Paterson, and very likely his brother, but I have been unable to locate positive confirmation of this relationship.

So, there it is - just over 300 years, spanning nine or possibly ten generations and including at least 24 babies named Marcus.  That's quite a tradition!

Transported for 10 years…

The subject of this post is Richard Pilkington, born County Clare Ireland about 1832, the son of William Pilkington, a labourer.  He’s not a confirmed relation to my family, but given the name and location, there is a fair chance of a connection somewhere.  I was prompted to explore Richard’s story while studying a unit on Convict Ancestors with University of Tasmania.

County Clare Ireland in 1850 was still in the grip of an Gorta Mór, the Great Famine. The Kilrush Poor Law Union was one of the hardest hit areas, not only dealing with the effects of the potato blight, but also the mass evictions carried out by landlords and their agents. Some of the worst devastation was instigated by Marcus Keane, known as the Exterminator General of Clare, who happened to be the brother of my great-great-grandmother Anne Keane.  I've written about Anne in a previous post.

In February 1850, at the close of another cold wet winter, people were still being found dead from starvation and exposure. Whole villages lay deserted; their former occupants either dead or emigrated. The detailed reports of Kilrush Union Poor Law Inspector Captain Arthur Kennedy, who was responsible for the relief of the poor and destitute, reveal the suffering he regularly witnessed. Coincidently, Kennedy was to become Governor of Western Australia in 1854.

Not surprising then that people resorted to whatever means they could to survive. Livestock theft was a common occurrence, and the reason 18 year old Richard Pilkington was transported for 10 years.  On the night of February 25^th 1850, eight sheep were stolen from the property of Thomas Browne at Cahermurphy.  At the Assizes in Ennis in July, Richard and five other men were convicted of the crime and sentenced to transportation.  We can only guess at their motivation. Perhaps they wanted food for their families, or maybe were hoping to profit from selling the meat at the nearby markets, where mutton was selling for 5 ¼ pence per pound.  Regardless of the reason, Thomas Browne would have seemed like a soft target. He was a well-off linen merchant from Limerick who farmed several parcels of land throughout West Clare.

Clare Journal & Ennis Advertiser 4 July 1850 page 2.

The long journey to Western Australia began in Ennis jail, described in 1845 as “a thoroughly commodious and well-conducted establishment” which had recently been extended.  Four months later, Richard and two of his co-accused were among a group of 20 prisoners transferred to Spike Island Prison in Cork harbour.  Originally built as a military fortress, Spike Island had been used as a convict depot from 1847 and by the time Richard arrived housed over 2300 prisoners.   Conditions in the prison were not ideal and many of the prisoners were unwell and debilitated as a result of the famine.

Clare Journal & Ennis Advertiser 18 November 1850 page 1.

Richard’s stay at Spike Island was of unknown duration. Although the convict ship Robert Small sailed from Spike Island for Swan River with two of Richard’s partners in crime aboard, Richard must at some point have been transferred to Dublin. His convict records in Western Australia reveal he came from Dublin’s Mountjoy Prison, where his conduct was recorded as “good”, although he doesn’t appear in the Irish Prison Records which include Mountjoy.

Built as a model prison based on the separation theory, Mountjoy was completed in 1850 and provided single cells for 450 inmates.  During his time there, Richard would have been kept completely separated from his fellow inmates, in the belief that it would promote “moral and religious improvement”. In fact, the practice was associated with significant deterioration in the mental health of the prisoners.  What a contrast it must have been for Richard to go from the isolation of Mountjoy to the crowded confines of the convict ship Phoebe Dunbar.

Sketch of the Phoebe Dunbar,

Source: R.D.Shardlow, Mitchell Families Online accessed 16 June 2017.

https://mfo.me.uk/showfolio.php?mediaID=2263

The Phoebe Dunbar sailed from Kingstown (Dublin) on the evening of June 3^rd 1853, carrying 295 male convicts, and 93 others - pensioner guards and their families.  After a voyage of 89 days, she arrived in Fremantle on 30^th August.  Sixteen lives were lost on the voyage, nine of them convicts, with three more dying soon after landing. Disease had been rife on board, with many people suffering from scurvy.  Although sailing a month before the Phoebe Dunbar, the Robert Small had been delayed in transit and had arrived only a few days before. The settlement was unprepared for the influx of almost 600 convicts, many of whom were unwell. Consequently, the convicts remained on board Phoebe Dunbar for three weeks while temporary accommodation was built.

The Perth Gazette & Independent Journal of Politics & News

Friday 2 September 1853 page 2

So began life in Australia for convict number 2449, Richard Pilkington. Described on arrival as being aged 22 and single, he was 5 feet 4 ½ inches tall, of middling stout build with no distinguishing marks. He had black hair, hazel eyes and an oval face with sallow complexion.  He was Roman Catholic and could read but not write.

Richard was assigned to public works in the quarries where constant exposure to dust and grit resulted in severe ophthalmia.  He had several admissions to hospital in 1854-55; the descriptions provided of his eyes leave no doubt that his sight must have been impaired.  The treatments recorded appear to be the standard recommendations of the period, and included green shade to reduce light sensitivity, application of leeches to the temples, and use of various preparations containing mercury, silver, potassium and opium.  Diet was a part of the treatment, and consisted of tea, gruel or broth, designed to keep the digestive tract empty. Richard’s notes show additional foods were introduced as his recovery progressed.

Richard’s progress through the penal system was uneventful, his conduct ranging from “good” to “excellent” when he obtained his ticket of leave on 7^th September 1854.  He spent time at Port Gregory and Freshwater Bay convict depots, but no further record of location is available after his discharge from hospital on 19^th July 1855.  As a ticket of leave holder, he was able to seek employment from free settlers. He received his conditional pardon on 3^rd October 1859.

The next record of Richard is his marriage in Bunbury on 31^st March 1870. Emma Burk(e) is recorded as a servant and he a labourer, both residing at Belvidere. They were married by Roman Catholic Chaplain Hugh Brady at the home of James Milligan.  Belvidere was a property originally established to raise horses for the British Army in India.  It seems reasonable to assume that both Richard and Emma were employees of the estate. They had at least three children - John, Maria and Edward, with unconfirmed reports of a fourth child, Patrick.

A lifetime of poor diet, isolation, harsh treatment and hard work finally caught up with Richard. Aged 46, he died from disease of the lungs at Bunbury on 28^th October 1876.  He is remembered on panel 112 of the Museum of Western Australia’s ‘Welcome Wall’ at Fremantle.

©Katrina Vincent 2017. Written for the Convict Ancestors unit, University of Tasmania. A fully referenced PDF of this work is available on request.

A Tale of Two Fishes …

Walking along the beach has always been a favourite thing to do.  The sea in all its moods holds a fascination for me, whether it’s a wild southern gale in winter, or watching a spectacular sky in summer as the sun sets over the water in the west.  I love exploring the myriad objects cast up by the sea – shells, sea creatures, seaweed, weathered driftwood, as well as varied other objects resulting from nautical activity.

Back in December, a post on a cousins Facebook page Doonagatha caught my attention.  Doonagatha  (from the Irish "Dún an geata" (translation – " close the gate ") is the name of the property originally farmed by my great uncle Dan, who came out to Australia from Ireland in 1895.  The property is still farmed by his grandson & family today.  The Doonagatha page chronicles daily life on a working beef farm, and is a good read.

So, a typical day on the farm winds up with a run on the Waratah Bay beach for the dogs.  In this particular post, an out of the ordinary discovery is made during the daily walk, of a dead whale washed up on the shore.  I followed with interest over the next few days as attempts were made to identify the species.  Eventually, it was confirmed as a pygmy sperm whale, and the carcass removed by authorities.

©Doonagatha Facebook page 2016.

Used with permission

                                   

Reading about this unfortunate creature sent me back to the diary of my great uncle Fred, where in 1905 he records the discovery of another whale on a beach across the other side of the world in county Clare, Ireland.

On Thursday 25th May 1905 he writes:

Cycled up to Fodra to see a monster fish that was washed ashore last night, and stranded on the rocks.  Walked up again with the girls and Hay after dinner, bringing a tape with me.  It measures 31 feet with a girth of 16. Lacey, the light keeper, took a photo of it.

Saturday 27th May:

Went up to Fodra and took some further measurements of the fish.

Tuesday 30th May:

Amy & I cycled to Fodra to see the fish, but the tide was over it.  Rode up again in the evening & saw it.  Dr. Studdert & others up there.  He says it must be buried or it will spread sickness in the place.

Wednesday 31st May:

Wrote a small account to the Clare Journal re the fish washed ashore at Fodra.

From Pilkington family collection

                        

Monday 5th June:

My account of the fish in Saturday’s “Record”.

"The Saturday Record"  3rd June 1905.

                                       used with permission of Clare Local Studies Centre,
                                                              Ennis, co Clare, Ireland

UPDATE 14/6/2022:  Since publishing this blogpost, the animal washed up on the shore in Fodra in 1905 has been positively identified as a Basking Shark (Cetorhinus maximus). Thanks to Frances Bermingham in Ireland for providing this ID.

Kilbaha–here and there.

Kilbaha, County Clare, Ireland, 1871

It was one of those perfect mid-summer days in July. The balmy air was full of the sounds of summer – the hum of bees, the song of the larks as they soared high above, the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore of Kilbaha Bay, and in the distance the voices of the people gathering hay in the surrounding fields.

Anna Keane Pilkington shifted her large bulk in the chair, and rearranged her voluminous black skirts. She was enjoying the warmth of the sun against the wall of the house behind her, while in front on the lawn her grandchildren played. They had all come for the annual family holiday at Kiltrellig, the lodge her husband Thomas had built for her forty years ago.

Around her, with much jostling and rearranging of positions, her extended family gathered for a group photograph. The photographer had come from Limerick, and Anna wasn’t sure what she thought about this new-fangled contraption which would reproduce her image on paper. She wished they would just get on with it and leave her to enjoy the sunshine in peace.

Finally everyone was in place, and with an admonition to all to stay still, the photographer disappeared under the black drape of his camera and took the picture. The resulting image showed Anna staring rigidly out of the centre of the picture, surrounded by her children and grandchildren, siblings, nieces and nephews.

Family group Kilbaha 1871

To the extended family group – Pilkington, Haughton, Griffin and Keane – this was a special place. They had spent summers here in West Clare for years; long, lazy days spent exploring the rocky coastline, swimming and fishing in the Shannon, boating trips and endless picnics. At night time they gathered in one or other of the homes for a musical evening, each taking turns to perform a song or play a piece.

The children were off exploring all day, with a freedom not known to them in their ordinary lives. Holiday friendships with the local children were renewed each year and reinforced by shared interests and activity. The boys would help with the ricking or other farming chores, and the girls try their hand at the spinning, or baking a soda loaf over the fire in a nearby cabin.

As the years passed, those children grew up, their lives leading them on different paths around the world, taking the memories of those halcyon days in the West with them.

Kilbaha & Kiltrellig, co Clare, Ireland 2014

©Katrina Vincent

‘Kilbaha’, Sandy Point, Victoria, Australia, 2013

One hundred and forty-two years later, in another sea-side location on the other side of the world, I sat at the kitchen bench in a rustic holiday cottage. With me were my sisters and several cousins of varying degrees of kinship. Just back from an invigorating walk along the beach, the hot cup of tea in my hand was welcome in the cool of the late afternoon. In a frame on the wall behind us hung a faded old sepia photograph in which a large group of people posed in front of the wall of a house. A stern-looking old lady dressed in black glared out from the centre of the picture, surrounded by bearded men, women holding babies, and children of all ages.
Among those children were four small boys who grew up and journeyed half a world away to make homes and raise families in this special place.

There was much about Sandy Point to remind those men of their home in Ireland. The sea and the wild isolation of the place in all its seasons drew them and kept them here. They worked the land, battling the tides and the encroaching scrub to make a life for themselves which they could not have had in Ireland. The families supported each other through good times and bad, their children cousins and playmates. In time, the children grew up, and they too moved out into the world to follow their destinies.

Throughout the years, Sandy Point remained the focal point which drew everyone together. Families returned every year, holiday homes were built, and summers were spent swimming, fishing and boating, with picnics in favourite locations. The next generation roamed the beach and the bush without restriction. City kids joined their country cousins for the hay-making and other farm chores, while evenings were spent at one or other of the homes for barbecues or games nights. The link with the west of Clare is reflected in the names of the family homes – Ennisvale, Kiltrellig, Kilbaha.

Times have changed and Sandy Point is no longer the isolated place it was fifty years ago. Others have discovered its secrets and in summer now it becomes a bustling, crowded holiday centre. The freedom we had as children is no more. But still, our children have established their own traditions and Sandy Point continues to be the place to go to relax, refresh and recharge.

On this weekend, descendants of the four Irish men had travelled from all over Australia for a family reunion on one of the original Sandy Point farms. The autumn weather was perfect and the weekend had been full of camaraderie and reminiscence, renewing connections and celebrating the lives and traditions of all those who came before. Displayed on a large table, precious items of family memorabilia told us the tales of yesteryear - the diary of ‘Aunt Charlotte’, Anna’s youngest sister, was written in beautiful copperplate writing and was full of family adventures in West Clare.

Within the cosy warmth of ‘Kilbaha’ cottage, the ghosts of long ago mingled among us giving their blessings to this family occasion. The smell of wood smoke from the open fire replaced the salty tang of the air outside as the evening sea mist closed in. Two little girls, Anna’s four-times-great grandchildren, played quietly together on the rug, while the room echoed with the laughter and conversation of the adults. As Anna Keane Pilkington and her four small grandsons watched silently from their place on the wall, I could almost imagine a nod of her head and a softening of her gaze.
 
©Katrina Vincent 2016.  Written for Writing the Family Saga unit, University of Tasmania.

Anna Pilkington nee Keane 1802-1875

my 2x great grandmother

New Beginnings

Frederick William Pilkington
1869 - 1952

 Pilkington Family Collection

 

Great-uncle Fred was the first of four Pilkington brothers to emigrate to Australia.  At 20 years old, he left his home in county Clare, Ireland, sailing from England to Melbourne on board the SS Oruba.  The colonies provided much more opportunity for him to create a future than life as an impoverished younger son in Ireland.

Fred’s prospects had changed dramatically in 1884, when both his parents died within 6 months of each other.  He was the fifth of nine children, and was well educated, but there had not been funds for any further training.  The passenger list for the Oruba in 1890 records him as “grocer’s assistant”.

Prior to his departure, Fred had received a letter from his second cousin, William Horatio Haughton, containing some advice for the voyage.
William advised Fred to keep to himself as much as possible, not to drink and not to gamble. 
No doubt this was valuable advice, written from William's perspective as 2nd Mate on P&O S.S. Carthage.

 

Daunting as it must have been for a young man to travel alone to the other side of the world, Fred was not entirely without connections.  His first cousins Tom and Charlie Griffin had been in Australia for several years and were reportedly doing well.  He also carried with him a letter of introduction from William Horatio Haughton to James Barlow, a clerk in the City of Melbourne Bank.



1st page of letter of introduction

 

Pilkington Family Collection

 



 Fred stood on the corner of Elizabeth and Collins streets looking up at the impressive columns of the City of Melbourne Bank. In his pocket was a letter of introduction written by his cousin William to Jim Barlow, a clerk in the bank.  

Fred had come out here to make something of his life. At 20, he didn’t have much to go on. Indeed, as William had written: “He has no profession and not much money, but he is a good steady chap.” 

For a moment, Fred felt a wave of nostalgia for the old days when the family were all together. Six weeks ago, he’d said good-bye to his brother Dan at Tilbury Dock, and boarded the ‘R.M.S.S Oruba’ for the journey to Australia. Dan had embarked the same day, bound for Argentina. Charlie was in India with the army. And the others back home – they thought he’d come out here, make a quick quid, then return home to live in comfort. Would he ever see any of them again?

His thoughts turned to his cousin Tom who had come out years ago. The last Fred had heard, Tom was up the bush somewhere surveying for the railways. He’d have to look him up, once he was settled.

Fred looked again at the solid building in front of him, symbol of the prosperity of the colony. He wasn’t really sure that life in the city would suit him. Checking his pocket for the letter, Fred took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door. Time to see what Jim Barlow might have to offer.

© Katrina Vincent 2016. Written for “Writing Family History” unit, University of Tasmania.



City of Melbourne Bank, cnr Elizabeth & Collins Sts. Melbourne

  State Library of Victoria http://handle.slv.vic.gov.au/10381/101131

wood engraving by Albert Charles Cooke

originally published in Australian Sketcher



What, if anything, Jim Barlow had to offer is unknown.  But Fred did meet up with his cousin Tom and spent several years working with him before settling on his own land.  Fred was a meticulous diary writer, and in his later years when physical frailty limited his activities, he used his diaries to compile his memoirs.  More stories for another time.


The City of Melbourne Bank was built in 1888, and demolished in the 1940's. Click on the link for a detailed description of the building.