Canada, Seeing What’s Really in a Record - International Institute

Looking At The Document: Are We Seeing All That Is There?
Once the researcher has become acquainted with the archives, found a collection which sounds useful and requested the document, the moment of truth comes. The resource is there, waiting to be read and reveal its genealogical details.

Here is where many researchers make a terrible mistake. They are in a great hurry because there is too much to do and not enough time. So they quickly note the obvious information from the source and then pass on to the next one.

Census Documents
The most obvious of these is the census. Every census page conveys a variety of information to us, but inexperienced genealogists see the names and ages, and then ignore the rest. The 1901 census, for example, contains details which may not be available elsewhere: exact birth dates and years of immigration to Canada. In addition, the census can offer mortality schedules, agricultural schedules and industrial information (vital to family historians whose ancestors ran a business).

So the first question to ask is: have I noted all the information in the document? It may seem obvious, but in fact many researchers fail to make comprehensive notes, or do not make them in a form they can understand later.

There are other messages, which must be gleaned from the documents not because they are stated but because they are implicit in what we see. Among these messages are:


 * Trustworthiness
 * Accuracy
 * Extra information

Trusted Documents
We can trust a document if we know that it is original, written at the time of the event, in the presence of the participants. If we have reason to believe that what we have is a copy, or was written later, then its trustworthiness is compromised.

Here is an example, a baptismal register from Knox Presbyterian Church in Ayr, Ontario. Birth and Baptismal Register



We can observe:


 * that there is a variation in ink, which means the whole page of baptisms was not written at the same time


 * there is a variation in the name of the clergyman (on the right), but not in the handwriting. This means that only one clergyman or clerk entered the information, not each man entering the details of the baptisms he performed.

Nonetheless, the variation in ink and other evidence shows us that the baptisms were entered chronologically as performed, so they are more trustworthy. We can see the usual information from a baptismal record: name of child, parents’ names, profession of father, date of birth and baptism, place of birth, name of clergy.

Are there other things to learn from this? The line of children of Thomas Anderson and Agnes Hall shows that these babies, born over a period of eight years, were all baptized at the same time. The birth dates are therefore a little dubious, and in fact Helen’s birth date, originally written as March 30 1845 has been altered to October 29 1845, perhaps showing it was misremembered at the time of the baptism.

A number of the children have been given names which include a family name in the middle: Janet Scott Henry, John Pringle Gladstone, Janett Elliot Kyle. We might suspect that this is a custom and, in this strongly Scottish village, it was. If you named your child for someone, you gave them the whole name. John Gladstone’s sister was named Jane Laidlaw Gladstone after their grandmother. The old lady always referred to her granddaughter by her full name, beginning letters to her “Dear Jeannie Laidlaw.”

We may know from other sources that a clergyman wrote down information on slips of paper and transferred it later to the registers (which inevitably means mistakes and the outright loss of some documents). There is also the example of the registers of the United Church in New Richmond, Québec, from the 1870s. There are pages, mostly blank, but with two signatures appearing in the midst of the empty spaces. This is an indication that the clergyman intended to fill in the details later, and had the witnesses sign in the necessary place. The clergyman never did fill in the blanks. Knowing that the registers were done later, we can look at those records which are filled in with some doubt.

Index Documents
If the records which we have are transcriptions, we can be sure of errors which occurred because the clerk was tired, or could not read the handwriting easily. If possible, always go back and look at the original as well. Equally, indexes are only as good as the people who have created them. We probably know little about the indexer, and may want to take the time to scour a document ourselves in case they missed something. This is especially true now that some documents (such as censuses) are being indexed mechanically or in far off countries and the opportunities for errors are rife.

The real problem with indexes is the user. They may use indexes too quickly and with too much trust.

Another consideration which may block our judgement of trustworthiness and accuracy is our own sensibility. Does the researcher:


 * understand all the terms in the document fully?
 * skim too quickly through the document so they misread it?
 * make assumptions based on modern ideas?
 * look at the whole document, not just the first line or two?
 * have trouble with the handwriting?

You may think that you have understood everything, without realizing that you are missing something vital. For example, at times the age given in the census is not the age the person is now, but their age at their next birthday.

Handwriting on Documents
The handwriting problem is a matter of experience. Often a person’s handwriting in the present will reveal their general age; so it is with past times. Each era had its own forms of handwriting, some of which will be difficult for those who have not experienced them before. With very hard-to-decipher documents, it may be necessary to consult the archivist, or have a copy made for later study.

Perhaps a word here about a single letter of the alphabet is in order. In both printing and handwriting in English throughout the eighteenth century there were two forms for the lower case letter S. The printed one was very similar to (but not identical to) the printed lower case F. The handwritten one looked like a modern script F. The upshot of this is that modern transcribers often print this as F. It is not F, and printing it as F is an error. This is a good example of modern ideas intruding on historical accuracy.

It may also be that the person creating the document—a clerk, a clergyman, a lawyer, a census taker—has made an error that requires the researcher first to spot the error and then to interpret it correctly. We enter difficult territory here, because researchers must be careful not to decide that the document contains an error simply because it does not say what we want it to. That is entering the realm of fantasy.

But if the researcher is not only noting, but thinking about what they are seeing, asking if there are anomalies which must be justified for every document, then they will be able to spot the errors. So if a census taker records an O’Quinn family but says they are French-Canadian, some background research may reveal that their name is actually Aucoin. (Conversely, there is a famous case where a Casey family in French Canada was put down as Quesey.)

Archival Documents
One feature of archival documents (as opposed to printed books) is that they often contain extra information which may not be obvious at first. Sometimes it is simply that the person using a particular form (as in a church record) has added comments in the margin. Sometimes it can be notations made on the document at a later time. Sometimes it can be what is implied in the document but is not spoken. Perhaps the most difficult to spot and interpret are the empty spaces: do they mean anything or are they simply blank?

Sometimes the marginal notation will be sufficiently interesting to form a story in the family history on their own. Consider, for instance, a marriage record where the priest wrote in the margin, “Bride says she is 26 but her sister says she is really 39.”

A book of banns from the 1820s had notations beside the names of two sisters, married a few years apart, in another hand, “Still alive 1880.” The genealogical value is obvious.

Marginal annotations of this kind are almost always omitted from transcriptions or indexes, and their value makes looking at the original even more necessary. They are a bonus to researchers because they are unexpected.

The question of the blank space is one which new researchers may not be able to deal with. It is only with experience that we find ourselves able to recognize when something about a document causes us to pause. Something tells us that it looks wrong. We learn to do it by really examining everything we look at with intelligence and acuity.

If you have doubts about a document for any reason, get help. If an archivist can assist (this may not be possible), use their skills, but it may be necessary to have a copy made, which you can then show to other researchers or experts in the field.

In the interests of time, many researchers only examine documents which they think are relevant to their direct line. Remember that the siblings of your ancestors have the same parents and grandparents, and their documents may contain the information you need.

Here is an example. Margaret Anne Hawthorne died in 1919 on New Year’s Eve. It was very cold at the time, making travel difficult, and her death was never registered. Her birthplace had always been known as Hope Township, Durham County, Ontario, but no more specific details had been given. A researcher had hoped that her death certificate would provide some detail about her birth. No luck.

However, her sister Mary Jane had died in 1916. Her death certificate had stated her birthplace, Perrytown, and this detail led to other discoveries. Only through the sibling’s record did the full truth become clear.

Wills and Probate Documents
Even more important to the experienced researcher is the ability to read a document, extract the hard information, and also see that there is something more being offered. It is hard to think that this might be true of something as legally dry as a will, but in fact these probate documents are full of extra information. Consider the will of Sarah Woodward of Orono, Ontario (1911). There are two principal clauses:


 * I give to my daughter Alice Ann Wilcox the feather bed situate in the upstairs bed room of the house where I live and I give to my daughter Matilda Smith the feather bed situate in the downstairs bedroom of the house where I live.


 * All the rest residue and remainder of my property of every kind and nature whether real or personal and wheresoever situate I direct my Executors to divide equally among such of my children as shall survive me (except my son Dolphon Woodward who is to take no share) and my daughter-in-law Emma Jane Woodward, wife of my said son Dolphon, share and share alike.

Sarah had nine children, five sons and four daughters. The first clause offers something specific to two of the daughters. Why were the others left out? The second clause, more startlingly, divides her estate among her children equally, save one; his share is to go to his wife.

Taking the first paragraph into the family history, the genealogist notes that Alice and Tillie were the daughters who lived near Sarah, and the feather beds she gives them may be in recognition of their help to her while she was ill over many years. On the other hand, this singling out of Alice and Tillie might be a reflection on the other two daughters, whom we know had been living somewhat irregular lives.

As for the specific exclusion of Dolphin, we see that he does receive his inheritance, but it is placed in his wife’s hands and not his. This might lead to speculation that his mother did not entirely trust him. In fact, from newspaper items gleaned through the use of a microfiche index, the family historian knows that there have been times when he showed himself untrustworthy with money. So perhaps his mother was simply being sensible. At any rate, the will added considerably to the family history.

Sometimes all that is required is a calculator. The will of Joshua Reynolds in 1868 leaves most of his estate to his unmarried daughter (unusual enough in those days), but each of his other children is listed and receives some small amount. At the same time, Joshua declares how much he has lent each child, and what is owed him. In a final calculation of the value of the estate (taken from probate records), it is clear that the total sum of money which Joshua had advanced to his married children over the years is greater than the total value of his estate! Again, this required observation on the part of the researcher reading the will, and then some action in making the calculations. Birth, marriage and death certificates are all sources which are familiar to us, but which we examine with insufficient care. Each of them offer us more information than the obvious, but do we stop to find it?

Reference
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