Hinting About Marriage

 

There will always be complications encountered by those pushing back through the generations in search of their family's history. That, at least, has become the case with Polly Firth, sister of my fourth great-grandmother Sally Firth. If she wasn't married twice, as one record I just found seems to indicate, then she has a name twin. I need to determine which one is the case for my ancestral line.

No sooner had I located a marriage record for Polly in her home county of Brunswick in Virginia than up popped an alternate proposal. On its face, it seemed likely that Polly Firth might have been married twice. A closer look, however, steers me clear of such an assumption. Here's what showed up as I searched for details on Polly's life.

First was a hint at Ancestry.com, indicating that Polly was married to someone named John Burch. To top that off, the record supposedly also contained the clincher that Polly was daughter of someone named Thomas Firth. Yes, I agreed, both my fourth great-grandmother Sally and her sister Polly were daughters of someone named Thomas Firth.

Following that hint was another. This time, the resource was a page gleaned from a book called Related Royal Families. This two-volume genealogy was compiled by Marilu Burch Smallwood and published in 1966. The book can be found at the FamilySearch Library. As a copy of the book was also scanned by the University of Virginia and can be digitally searched through Hathi Trust, it is fairly easy to access.

The Ancestry hint dropped me squarely at the top of page 154, where the first sentence asserts: "John Burch Jr. born 1758 died 1796 married Polly Firth." The entry goes on to explain that a transcription of Brunswick County marriage records had indicated that Polly Firth, daughter of Thomas, had been married to John Burch on May 30, 1782.

Indeed, there were other Ancestry hints providing transcriptions of this same assertion. Fortunately, some of those hints included the "FHL Film Number" which could lead me directly to a digitized copy of that same Brunswick County record from 1782. Naturally, I wanted to check that out.

Copying the film number, I logged on to my account at FamilySearch.org, clicked the "Search" tab to select "Records" from the drop-down menu, scrolled down the page to select "More Options." That opened up a new dialog box, where I zoomed straight to the option near the bottom, "Add Record Options." I selected the wordiest choice, "film/fiche/image group number (DGS)," and pasted the FHL Film Number I had gleaned from the Ancestry hint.

Up came an option, into which I entered the names I was seeking. Sure enough, it led me to a May 30, 1782, marriage record for John Burch and Polly Firth. And Polly's father was entered as Thomas Firth, just as the Ancestry hint had noted.

But could this be right? Could this actually be our Polly Firth, daughter of Thomas? How many father-daughter pairs of the same name could there be in a county of, at the time, twelve thousand people?

I couldn't say why, but something seemed off about this record. I decided to retrace my steps and review all the information I had gleaned about Polly and the Firth family. After all, despite lack of all the usual documentation we rely on for finding family later in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, what little I had already found included a few pertinent details.

The first record was the 1794 will of Polly's father, Thomas Firth. In that will, as I've already noted, all the Firth daughters were listed by their maiden names with the exception of one: Betsey Rawlings. If Polly had married John Burch in 1782, her father would have listed her by her married name, since he drew up his will subsequent to that wedding—even if her husband had died before her father's wishes were set to writing. She was, however, entered simply as Polly B. Firth.

There was, however, a second issue which surfaced as I reviewed the documents I had found. In the later marriage record for Polly, in which she was married to Howell Duggar in December of 1795, a note inserted in the record stated that on that date, Polly was twenty one years of age. If so, that would fix her year of birth at about 1774. Someone born during that year would only have been eight years of age in 1782, when our Polly supposedly married this John Burch. If, jumping back to the Smallwood genealogy, John Burch's wife had a son named Bazell in 1786, our Polly as his mother would have been twelve years of age—an unlikely scenario.

What seemed like an easy-to-accept suggestion from Ancestry turns out to be, at best, the case of name twins. Yes, finding two daughters in the same locale named Polly claiming a dad named Thomas Firth may seem to be a stretch, but apparently in Brunswick County, Virginia, it is far more likely that that was so, than that an eight year old child was given in marriage, even if it was to a descendant of royalty.

Digging Into the Duggars

 

After finding a document regarding an exchange of property which named several children of Thomas Firth, my fifth great-grandfather, I was curious about one couple who didn't seem to fit into that profile. That couple was Howell Duggar and his wife Mary. Based on the pattern which seemed to be emerging from the connections in that document, I wondered about the possibility that Howell Duggar's wife might be another one of Thomas Firth's daughters.

Admittedly, contained among the signatures at the bottom of the indenture was one woman who signed her name as Polly Duggar, not Mary, as was named in the text of the legal record. Since Polly has traditionally been used as a nickname for Mary, regardless of the variance, I thought that was still a promising sign. 

Thanks to FamilySearch.org's Full Text Search, it didn't take long to uncover a marriage record from the Firth family's home location, Brunswick County, Virginia. The date on that record was December 21, 1795—about a year and a half after Thomas Firth had signed his own last will naming Polly Firth as one of his daughters.

The marriage register indicated specifically—and in quotes—that by the point of her marriage, Polly was "21 years of age."  On that December day in 1795, Polly was to become the wife of Howell Duggar, revealing the connection that had later included his name in the property exchange we had seen yesterday.

In 1799, as Thomas Firth's executor, Aaron Brown, wrapped up distributions from the Firth estate, Howell Duggar's name was once again mentioned, along with the husbands of Thomas' other daughters. And yet, as clear as those records may seem to be, there was one problem caused by these discoveries: there are other indicators showing that Polly Firth, daughter of Thomas, had been married before this point to someone by a different name.

Guess that means it's time to take a closer look at those other documents.

Clustering Together

 

In looking up documents regarding brick wall ancestors, eventually we get to a point where we start to notice we've been seeing the same names appearing together, time after time. That realization is worth paying attention to, for it is quite typical for people—friends, associates, neighbors, for instance—to cluster together when facing big decisions in life. This, as one might say, could be a clue.

I was ecstatic when I finally broke through the records impasse to discover the parents of my third great-grandfather Thomas Rainey. Following rapidly on that long-awaited discovery was another: Thomas Rainey's mother's name, Sally Firth, appeared in her father's will. Almost instantly, I had a new set of names of collateral lines to research for DNA purposes.

And then I got stuck. Again.

Sally Firth's sister Elizabeth apparently married Randolph Rawlings. The many permutations of her husband's given name prompted me to see what I could find on Elizabeth's husband, regardless of what his name might have been.

That's when I discovered some documents of interest. Maddening in that the main court record actually left blanks where key dates should have been inserted in the first document I discovered, I hung on to it based simply on a hunch. That hunch was that the names listed in the record might signify more of a connection than just any names in a random list.

The record began, "This indenture made the ___ day of ____ Eighteen hundred + one between...."

Then followed a listing of names, somewhat confusing due to lack of commas. Included in the list were:

• Thomas Firth and Nancy his wife
• Randolph Rawlings and Eliza B his wife
• Howell Duggar and Mary his wife
• Isham Rainey and Sally his wife
• Henry Abernathy and Rebeckah his wife

Those listed in that group represented one party in a legal exchange, with someone named William Firth being the second party. For exchange of ninety pounds "lawfull money" the above party released to William Firth a certain tract of land in Brunswick County, Virginia, containing about 125 acres.

This past week, when I had first discovered Rebecca Firth's marriage to Henry Abernethy—the family's  surname was often misspelled in records as Abernathy—I tried tracing the couple's descendants, mainly to help with placing DNA matches.

The Abernethy family was said to have moved from Virginia to Tennessee. Though I had little luck locating the family in other pre-1850 records, one detail I did notice while chasing these Abernethys was the recurrence of the surname Duggar. This was a surname which I couldn't connect with the family, but the frequency of the pairing told me there might be something to the connection that I needed to know.

Since then, I worked on another Firth daughter's line, that of Elizabeth, who we've since discovered became wife of Randolph Rawlings. That couple, too, appeared in this list. Of course, Isham Rainey, father of my third great-grandfather Thomas Rainey, had married another Firth sibling, Sarah, known as Sally Firth. And Thomas Firth, junior, as we discover from this legal document, must have married someone named Nancy.

With all the couples but one containing relatives connected to this same Firth family, could that mean the Duggars were also family members? Could Mary Duggar (in her signature at the bottom of the document showing as Polly) have been a sister of Rebecca, Elizabeth, Sally, and the younger Thomas Firth? If the principle of cluster genealogy holds true, it's worth checking out that possibility. It's time to examine a few more documents.

Given Under our Hands This Day

 

FamilySearch.org's Full Text Search is becoming my new best friend. When it comes to researching those hard-to-find ancestors from centuries past, the best place—sometimes the only place—to find mention of those near-invisible relatives is in court records. Yes, those tedious-to-read, overly wordy, illegible handwritten documents buried in back rooms of courthouses can bring us exactly the details we're seeking on our kin—if we can find the right records. And Full Text Search can zero in on the most reasonable possibilities.

As we wade through flowery phrases like "In the name of God, Amen," that open pages-long documents, or search for concluding statements such as "given under our hands this day," just to uncover the date confirming we've found the right person's record, our exhausted eyes are rewarded by the goldmine we are chasing. Sure, the handwriting may frustrate us, and the length of documents may weary us, but the good news is that we have it so much better than those family historians who went before us. The computerized digitizing process and transcribing AI systems have now made this process possible in a snap.

For this month, that is excellent news for me. Ever since discovering that I could break through my brick wall and find my third great-grandfather Thomas Rainey's parents' names, it's been far easier to continue down this path beyond that brick wall. I've started working on Thomas Rainey's maternal grandparents back in Brunswick County, Virginia, then branched out to their children, Thomas' aunts and uncles on the Firth side of the family.

We've already started work following the descendants of one Firth sister, Rebecca, who married Henry Abernethy. Then, the next attempt was to decipher the name of another sister's husband, supposedly listing Elizabeth Firth's spouse in one document as "Randle" Rawlings.

I took that question about "Randle" to Full Text Search at FamilySearch.org and played with the possibilities. Searching first for "Randle," some spelling alternatives popped up, beginning with "Randal." Pretty soon, another alternative was offered up at Full Text Search: the more reasonable Randolph.

I didn't want to presume that that was the actual name at first, as I didn't want to mislead the search process by jumping to that conclusion. Doing so might have caused me to miss some other possibilities. But with patience, I noticed that Randle and even Randal seemed to lead nowhere, no matter which keywords I combined with those options.

It was easy to eliminate those other options, even though they popped up in actual documents. The more reasonable option, Randolph Rawlings, soon took the lead with a preponderance of search results. And despite missing some key documents I'd like to see—a will, for instance—the documents Full Text Search offered up turned out to paint a useful picture, indeed.

In particular, one document started me on a new research path with its concluding statement, "Given under our hands this 9th day of January 1828." Following Elizabeth Firth Rawlings from that document's date uncovered an entire cluster of possible family members and business associates of her by-then deceased husband Randolph Rawlings—a project to piece together over the next few remaining days of this month's research project.

Clawing Through Another Brick Wall

 

As often happens in genealogy research, one long-awaited breakthrough precipitates others. Whereas before, that brick wall seemed impenetrable, now it becomes a matter of simply clawing our way through the next brick wall. The research is still tedious, but it's no longer at a standstill.

After having discovered the will for my brick wall third great-grandfather Thomas Rainey's maternal grandfather, of course I was elated—until I realized all the work that awaited at this next iteration. For a man whose last testament was signed in 1794—leaving all but one of his daughters still unmarried—slow progress was understandable. Yes, women back then could be nearly invisible, but documentation on anyone was hard to come by.

I did follow the lines of descent for one sibling of my fourth great-grandmother Sally Firth: her sister Rebecca, wife of Henry Abernethy (and conveniently the mother of a widely known Methodist preacher in Alabama). Even so, trying to identify the lesser-known siblings in that family's next generation has been, so far, beyond my reach.

Today, I explored another Firth daughter, at least far enough to discover some documentation on her own marriage. This daughter, "Betsey" in her father's will, was the only one listed there by her married name, Rawlings. Fortunately, a line item in a ledger of Brunswick County, Virginia, marriages showed an "Eliza" Firth marrying someone entered in the record as "Randle" Rawlings. An additional note in the 1784 ledger identified the bride's father as Thomas Firth, to assure us we had found the right one.

Granted, my question at this point is: was that husband's name actually Randle? Or are we once again witnessing some creative record keeping? I'll follow this line as long as I can to see what else might be uncovered from those early American records. In the process, perhaps that, too, will explain some distant cousin DNA matches.

Things You'd Otherwise Never Have Known

 

Walking through airport terminals brings with it a haunting sense that I am passing by family members whom I never knew. Perhaps most people would never give such a thought any consideration, but when you are immersed in genealogy—and even more so, genetic genealogy—you see as likely what others would dismiss as unlikely.

Even so, the nagging suspicion that I'm crossing paths with, say, a sixth cousin did not quite prepare me for the discovery that I might have just missed an encounter with a double sixth cousin. Such possibilities enter the realm of things you'd otherwise never have known, but today, I almost discovered the bearer of such an unlikely relationship.

Since I've been working this month on the line of my (formerly brick wall) third great-grandfather Thomas Rainey, discovering his parents' identities, and then his maternal grandfather's identity, I took that information to the ThruLines tool at AncestryDNA. Sure enough, there were several matches already assembled for my consideration regarding my fifth great-grandfather Thomas Firth. 

I selected one possible sixth cousin, and pulled up the readout proposing how we were connected. What was strange about that diagram was that the ancestors at the top of the list—Thomas Firth, followed by his daughter Rebecca—were not the only boxes entered in solid-white appearance. Skipping three dotted-line boxes for the subsequent generations not listed in my family tree, the last two boxes itemizing the generations preceding my DNA match were also solid white boxes, meaning I already had those people in my tree.

This DNA match had apparently already been confirmed in my tree, connected through another relationship in my family. Could this have been a case of some sort of double cousin link, only far more distant than the usual cousin of this sort? I had to look closer.

Yes, it is possible that, far back in our family's past, yet another person married someone from another branch in our tree. That's the same dynamic which brings us endogamy and pedigree collapse. No surprise here. I just didn't expect it on that side of my own family tree.

Of course, I had to look further into that assertion. After all, ThruLines suggestions are based on support from family trees. And family trees on genealogy websites are notorious for being copied from other family trees. Some of those trees contain errors. Where does that leave us?

While my DNA match's paternal grandmother's line did indeed line up with my own mother's line, this supposed second relationship would have come from the match's paternal grandfather's line. I started building that line up in my own tree, using documentation. At first, it seemed difficult to find any trace of documentation for that grandfather's line, partially because of a move from a different state, and partly in following someone with a series of misfortunes, such as remarriages and step-children.

In the end, I realized what had happened. It was the spouse of my related line who had married twice, with the child in question actually being a step-child for my family's direct line. Some family trees had mis-attributed the parents for this child, who then showed up as a direct relative instead of a step-relative. Ancestry.com went with the subscribers' trees; I chose to follow the paper trail.

I suppose at some point, with all these DNA tests showing us how we are all related, I might stumble upon someone who is doubly related to me, maybe in ways I would never suspect. Results from DNA tests can be surprising. But so can the people who build those trees.

Where There's a Will . . .

 

Succeeding with this month's research project to find the names of my third great-grandfather Thomas Rainey's parents—Isham Rainey and Sally Firth—I've since gone beyond that and found mention of Sally's name in her father's will. With wills being what they are—and since I also am using DNA to connect the dots between distant cousins—I couldn't pass up the chance to take a closer look at that earlier generation. After all, where there's a will, there's a chance I can find a mention of the entire family.

Sally Firth, wife of Isham Rainey, was apparently daughter of Thomas Firth and his wife, also named Sally. It was not hard, once the original document pointed me back to Brunswick County, Virginia, to locate Thomas Firth's 1794 will. From there, a reading of the simple will provided the names of Sally Firth Rainey's surviving siblings, something I'd like to review today.

The elder Thomas Firth first named his sons in his will, beginning with son William, then mentioning his namesake son, Thomas Firth junior. Then the document moved to the daughters, beginning with Polly B. Firth, then Betsey B. Rawlings, Sally Firth, and last, the youngest daughter, Rebekah Firth.

Since the senior Thomas Firth would have been my fifth great-grandfather, his relationship was still within range to yield some possible DNA matches—slim connections, but there, nonetheless.

Now that I have those names of the elder Thomas Firth's children, I'll be working on the lines of each of these descendants to see whether I have any DNA matches among those collateral lines. You never know when a detail discovered while exploring a sibling's line might reveal the answer to a fact about our own direct line that may have had us stumped up to this point.