At last I was making advances in my Norfolk ancestry. In regard to the Bane's-Beans-Beanes I had never got further back than Thomas Bean of Thorpe Market having a father Richard Bane from Northrepps. From various documents I now sussed Richard was born in Trunch in 1677. Trunch, yes, so many Banes and Beans had lived there, there had to be a connection really; all are related somehow. So, Richards son, Thomas, my ancestor of Thorpe Market, it was he who had begun the tailoring trend in our family, carried on down through the generations, but as for his own father, Richard, he was a maltster. A maltster is master of the beginning of the brewing process, soaking in general barley in water to make malt. This barley would be raked on the ground for a few days until germination began, by which the starches were converting into sugar, at which point all was roasted; the longer it was roasted then the darker the malt, lightly for a pale ale. This was big business, as just about everyone drank beer, making for the maltster a great deal of money. Richard Bane had two wives, firstly Mary Cubitt, and then my ancestress Rachel Bayfield, also from Trunch, but lately living with her family in Gunton. Rachel was from a non-conformist family, following a Christianity separate from the established church, for which she was baptised in an independent chapel in a countryside barn near Bradfield. In accordance with the marriage license details she and Richard intended to marry at Norwich Cathedral, in the chapel of St Luke. I've always loved Norwich cathedral and its grounds leading down to the river. The marriage record itself seems to suggest another church was the venue, St Mary in the Marsh, which was in the Cathedral Close nearer to the river. There is no contradiction there, as I discovered. St Mary in the Marsh was pulled down in 1564, the parishioners taking their font with them into that very St Lukes chapel within the cathedral, now being permitted their worship there. St Luke's chapel was one of several chapels radiating out from the apse of the cathedral, and was quite small. So my ancestors did marry in Norwich cathedral; how amazing. I would have to visit this at some point; hopefully. And Richard and his wives graves, I'd discovered to be in Trunch, seeing transcriptions of the writing on their monuments. Richard's two wives, Mary and Rachel, were buried together. Ah, I love family and love my ancestors, hence why I'm so fascinated with the detective work of getting to know something of who they were. This is ancestral worship, part of my spirituality. In connecting with them they become present for me and I honour them. I continued to make so much progress with my Bane's of Trunch, finding the 1680 will of Richard the maltster's grandfather, Robert Bane, who was a worsted weaver. This was thanks to another weebly site dedicated specifically to the history of Trunch, so helpful, and such a kindness to have shared. Some sources reckoned the Bane surname to be of the Huguenots, but as I saw my Banes were in Trunch even prior to the infamous Saint Bartholomew's Day massacre. The first Trunch baptism for my family which I'd found was intriguingly far back for a typical parish register, for John and Marjorie's son Richard in 1560. The Bartholomews Day massacre was in 1572, and it was only in 1560 that the first French Huguenot church was established in a private property by followers of John Calvin, the same year our first recorded Trunch Bane was baptised. Flemish settlers, on the other hand, had been coming to Norfolk since medieval times, bringing along their pet canaries, and notably their skills to do with the wool trade, which brought immense prosperity to the land. It can be seen that my ancestors were indeed involved in the cloth trade. As a worsted weaver Robert would have at least benefitted from the skills brought by the Flemish settlers, 'strangers' as they were known, if not also having their blood within his veins. Not that my mother and I had Dutch DNA. We had plenty of Viking though, for which one would accord more to the theory that the Bane surname derived from the language of Pictish tribes in their description of blonde and fair skinned people. Robert Bane, the worsted weaver, he was born in 1603 and died in 1680, his body infirm, but his mind still sound, offering his soul into the hands of God Almighty. He made sure to give monies to all his grandchildren, who at that time were still teenagers. The mention of all beneficiaries within the will was so helpful for understanding more the Bane family at that time, as it was so with the other wills of the Bane family. I was thrilled with the discoveries I was making. Like, I had got back with them to the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, and that fascinated me, as it seems such a vastly distant time and yet really was not so long ago, in consideration of the family generations. I'd got back that far before, on my Shetland line, to the royal Scottish King James V, cousin to Elizabeth Tudor, both sharing the same grandfather, Henry VII. Royal connections get dismissed as being too distant, for which they are considered to be irrelevant, but they may be closer than one realises, and really all are relevant; all are family. Of my mothers parents therefore, both the lineages I have traced back to Tudor times; not so with any of the other lineages. Because most record keeping fails to take one that far back. As Tudor history was so very compelling this was great to for the second time connect my people back to such times, firstly to the royals and now to the country folk. Looking at the world my first recorded Banes would have been familiar with, it is likely that John and Marjorie were children when Henry VIII forcibly shut down the monasteries, shrines, friaries and convents, places the general folk would have made pilgrimages to and been greatly inspired by; thus the folk love of communing with sacred relics and seeking of miracles in holy settings was now denied to them. I myself feel my ancestors old fascination for such things; it has revived a little in me. And so I studied up about the dissolving of the monasteries and of sleeping sickness outbreaks, of priors who resisted the dissolution being hung, drawn and quartered as 'traitors', and of many monks and nuns being given pensions. In Henry VIII's time the ex monks and nuns were forbidden to marry, in Edward VI's time they were permitted to marry, in Mary I's time those marriages were annulled and the pensions ended, and in Elizabeth I's time the marriages were once more legitimised and the pensions restored. The destruction of relics, holy crosses, saintly icons and Mother Mary statuettes was brutal; surely this deeply hurt the people. The deities of Mother Mary, such as at holy Walsingham, also in Norfolk, which all would have visited on pilgrimages, Walsingham being the most venerated site in Britain (I've been there and loved the place), were taken in a cart to London and destroyed, reckoned to have been burnt in Thomas Cromwell's garden, with no witnesses attending. One of those Mary's, also destroyed, was a black Madonna of Willesden, in London. Some stories profess the Mary's were hidden and substituted, one (the Mother Mary of Ipswich priory) being smuggled into Italy. The people, who'd had their Mary's everywhere, in chapels, churches, and pilgrimage places, who ever chanted 'Our Lady of Walsingham pray for me; Our Lady of Ipswich pray for me; Our Lady of Willesden pray for me', now had the divine feminine with its ancient links to goddess worship, always on a folk level in the hearts of the people, denied to them; her healing, her mercies, miracles, the protection of old and sick, the feeding of the poor, the vast sacred communities which were like villages unto themselves; all gone. Priories were burnt to obtain the lead, stones and paving slabs were pilfered for new projects, ancient books were used for toilet paper, or roofs simply fell in due to neglect. Walsingham was close to where my Norfolk ancestors lived and they would have gone on pilgrimage there, maybe on horseback, maybe walking, as had thousands of others, including royals and aristocrats; even Henry VIII visited there twice with his Spanish Queen Catherine. That which at one time Henry revered he later destroyed, his wives, the sacred places of Britain, even his very pal Cromwell who directed the dissolution of the monasteries on his behalf, this being in anger at Cromwell having encouraged him to marry the repulsive Ann of Cleaves. And our ancestors would have observed such madness and to survive would adapt again and again and again. The old ways would not be passed onto their children. All would be forgotten.
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I was still filling in all my known ancestors onto FindMyPast, almost complete, but for the masses of my Shetland family, this being rather complex for their many intermarriages back to the times of royalty. I at last got one line going back to King James V, leading up to James's lover, Elizabeth Carmichael (some say her name was not Elizabeth but Catherine). The other line I have leads to another of his lovers, Euphemia Elphinstone, with more intermarrying of her descendants, and I had yet to tackle that. Both these lovers of the king were my ancestresses, the kings real sweethearts, rather than his later royal wives.
It is John Stewart who was Elizabeth Carmichael's son by the king, illegitimate, although later legitimised, his sister being the famous Mary, Queen of Scots, who apparently found him adorable for his 'leaping and dancing' in all those noble pursuits with which the aristocracy and royals entertained themselves at the time, like in the equestrian game 'running at the ring', especially popular with the Tudors, and in most of these games it being the way to dress up as colourful characters, whether that be men dressing as women, or as people of foreign lands, or the wearing of masks. John Stewart and his friends were ones to get up to mischief. One time, being denied entry to one house, to which they had come wearing masks, they broke the door down, for which the following day a brawl broke out in the market place. Mary Queen of Scots gave John a big telling off for this. Sometimes John went on trips to France, accompanying either Mary Queen of Scots or his stepmother Mary of Guise. The French king, being well disposed to him, even gifted him an abbey, the Abbey of Flavigny en Auxois.
Tiktok time - creating a little video of my royal ancestry, that is back to James V of Scotland, whose mother was Heny VIII's sister Margaret Tudor. I added archeogenetic proof that I am of the noble Merovingians, connecting this to the theory hereabouts of Mary Magdalene and Jesus having had a child together, whose descendants passed into the Merovingians and ultimately into Scottish royalty.
I did my grandfather Lyall Inkster's avatars and time travel; always a joy. Lyall was from a Shetland family and was descended from the Scottish king James V.
It's very heartening to hear of the fondness Queen Victoria had for the gypsies, regardless that many others of the time were not so well disposed towards them. The Queen even painted pictures of those she chanced to meet while out strolling, to whom she donated firewood, soup, clothes and blankets.
Debbie had requested that I do her time travel pictures. Myheritage had told me now that me that only five times of use of the time machine is free for members. So I just went ahead and paid for her to enjoy this, a gift for her. Debbies pictures did turn out to be lovely, some of them looking quite cosmic. The app really emphasised her boobs and some pictures were so matronly looking. Some you just have to laugh at. It is for my sharing online some of these pictures that friends Evie and Julan have been inspired to do this for themselves. In time more and more frends would take up this interesting time travel, Irving, Caroline the yogi, etc, etc.
Well, such fun it was to make time travel pictures for both my daughterx, the dark and the fair, and how well this worked out for them, with beautiful artistic portrayals manifesting. Thank you Myheritage, I so love it. My daughters were as divas with their precious unquique beauty, as art. So this I was long involved in. Viking Rosina Indian Rosina, as is half of her genetics via her father. Sisters down through the ages. It's such a delight for me to have these pictures which show so beautifully these girls I have brought into the world. And it's so that for genealogical purposes I could well use all our pictures as representative of the ancestresses.
Ella May was messaging me to try the latest Myheritage gimmick which fashions from ones face ancient and historical images. Ella had some beautiful results in this. But try as I might the app wouldn't work for me, a statement coming up that I have used the full quota of photographs already, this being on my family tree which I have with them, for which I am required therefore to upgrade, but to do so costs over 200 euros! So, whereas it cost Ella a tenner, I don't even get that same option. Kind of a glitch I would say. Well a week later, due to Myheritage offering to resolve this by giving me free photo storage, I could at last access the wonder of time travel pictures. And most of those photos were ridiculous, but enough gems were there to make the £10 worth while. As with Ella May's pictures it was the royal ones that came out as the most stunning. I was having such fun with this. On tiktok a guy who loves ethnic ancestry was doing a 'live'. Actually I only caught the tail end of it, but when I commented that I've seen through archeogentics that I have Balari ethnic ancestry from Sardinia, he got excited about them being the original Neolithic farmers, the highest amount to be found in the whole of Europe. I got creative, making a couple of tiktoks, one of my AI time travel pictures, and a rehash animation of my ancient relative the Cheddar Gorge man. I would love to tune into my hunter gatherer family from those times, in that place, to connect maybe through the dna from them that remains in me. My vast ancestral variety, tuning in somehow, psychically; how interesting that would be. I got offered such a good deal to renew my lapsed Myheritage membership, 80% off. They wanted me back, so I did it.
On staying with a friend, Andy Worman, in Norwich, I was writing his genealogy out for him, a full map of his ancestors, on various bits of paper. On a trip to the sea we passed through his mothers ancestral village of Hempnall, a place of so many fond memories for him and his brother, Hugh. Many of their relatives had lived there cousins, aunts and uncles, for which they'd all been known locally as the 'second royal family'. Some of them did indeed have an attitude of being important. And yet now not one remained in the village. Andy and Hughs grandfather was well respected in the village, ginger haired, doing good works, not strong enough to be sent to war, and he being a Methodist and a lay preacher. On looking more at their genealogy, I saw that one ancestor, Henry Howe and his son in law, George Wigger (who was a silk weaver) had run the Half Moon Inn on King Street in Norwich. George Wigger had got into some scrapes in his time which were duly recorded in the papers; his being attacked by a lad on King Street; and a drunkard in the pub bashing the eye of Georges wife, knocking her to the ground. One thing about staying with Andy was his mountains of books. In one book it was reorded that in olden times colic pains in ones tummy were thought to be due to a snake having got in there, either through the swallowing of snake spawn or due to one having climbed in through ones open mouth while sleeping.
In one Norse legend, a King Olaf Tryggvason used brute force to christianise the heathen Vikings of Iceland, one story about him confronting a particularly staunch Icelander. I do know from my mothers strong Viking DNA analysis that we have Icelandic Viking connections during those times of transition from the old beliefs into the new religion imported from the Near East. This staunch fellow was tortured and yet still would not give up his spirituality, at which point a snake was pushed down his throat by the Christian converts who applied red hot irons to its tail to force it in. This snake, according to the story, later thrust its head out through the Icelanders abdomen with the poor fellows heart between its jaws. This was enough to get the other Icelanders to leave behind their beloved traditions and to embrace the new Christianity. Some famed monks, Cosimas and Damien, were renowned for getting snakes to leave the bodies of colic sufferers. They are also known to have performed an early transplant, taking the leg of a dead 'Negro' and putting it successfully onto a church servant who had been suffering gangrene. This man was able to live many years more with one black leg and one white. On meeting an old friend, Dale Topsom, by the lions at Trafalgar Square, I guided us to the church of St Martin in the Fields which was open at last (third time lucky), my inspiration being for Dale and I to kneel at the altar, facing one another, in an enactment of the marriage, which had taken place within this very church, of my ancestors Philip Barton and Hannah Bunney. This did feel quite magical and special. More than any of the other London churches I'd lately visited, this one was especially vibrant, an energy there, maybe the presence of my ancient loved ones. So this little enactment felt quite sacred. Outside Buckingham Palace, in a spirit of fun, I announced that as a more authentic descendant of this lands royals, being myself of the Tudors, that this should rather be my palace but that the Queen has locked me out. Dale Topsom was still into genealogy, like me, he being the one who had introduced me to this. His Topsom male line he had traced back to a foundling left on the churrch steps in the Devon village of Topsham. His DNA was mostly Anglo-Saxon.
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AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. Categories
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