Bored Vicar or Political Commentary?
Earlier this week I had come across a page of notes and drawings in the middle of the death register books forfor Ogeu les bains, France. The time period was the 1773-1773.
Tonight, I was working in the baptismal records for 1761 and came across this page:
These drawings and the ones on the page 10 years later are by the same person, Jospeh Lapenne of Ogeu (aka Ogeu les bains). The entry above it is a typical baptismal entry. Catherine and Raymond Lapenne were the godparents–perhaps relatives of our Monsieur Lapenne.
There are math calculations on the page, the drawings, the reference to 1806, what looks like “Jesus Crist” on the right hand side.
Was he doodling out of boredom? Do these drawings represent the LaPenne family in some way? Was he making some sort of political statement?
I don’t supposed I’ll ever know. Just another one of those interesting things we find while doing research.
Unwed Mothers in French Records
Here we go again with the French women 
One of the most interesting things I have found in these French records is the amount of unwed mothers being recorded in birth records. They use the terms Fils Naturel and Fille Naturelle, meaning a male or female child born out of wedlock.
In the records the women are listed by their full name. And, in many cases their Father is the one who has presented the information to the recorder. Isn’t that intriguing? No one seems to be hiding the fact that Jeanne Marie has had her third child out of wedlock. Yes, 3! And, sometimes 5.
I’ve learned from a relative that in this region it was common for a couple to hold off getting married until they had the money to do so. I didn’t really see evidence of this in the records from 1800, but I do in the 1780s. In these records, after fils naturel, the fathers name is listed too! In this period it is more rare to see a child unclaimed by the father than claim by him. I have found a couple, not many, couples marrying several years later.
My own 4th great grandmother gave birth to at least two children out of wedlock. One was my 3rd great grandfather, Augustin. Her mother was the one who reported the births to officials. I believe her father was deceased by the time they were born.
I suspect where there is poverty people do what they need to do. It cost money to get married officially–even in 1780. I imagine that more often than not, the situation was the same for everyone so it wasn’t such a shocking thing to be done. Of course, Queen Victoria hadn’t yet made it on the scene and Victorian morals hadn’t spread across the globe.
Sure shakes up my notions about my seriously Catholic ancestors. I’ll need to revise my stereotypes once again.
Women in French Records
I’ve had a chance to work with French civil records recently. Prior to this, I’ve worked with the Azores (primarily Sao Miguel Island) and, of course, records in Hawaii, California, Massachusetts, and New York.
In most cases pre-1900 women are a non-entity. Their full name might be record and it might now. They could be known by their first name or the more frustrating Mrs. So and So. And, even worse “wife of” or “daughter of”.
In the Azorean records, women aren’t associated with a surname for the most part. They use a religious name like dos Anjos, da Conceicao, etc. This religious name may change from childhood to adulthood making it difficult to know if Maria dos Anjos is the same as Maria de Jesus.
In the French records of the Oloron district in Southern France, women seemed to have captured a separate identity from their husbands, brothers, and fathers very early on. In the 1800s, they are listed in records under their maiden name. They even sign their name showing a level of literacy. I’m back to the mid 1700s, even in this period they are still recorded with their full maiden name.
One of the most fascinating things I’ve found is that women can be witnesses and informants as well. In these records someone tells the official recorder the information to be recorded. Most of the time it is not the parents or spouse themselves, but another relative. It’s interesting to see the matriarch of the family being the one who presents the information.
Another thing I’ve noticed is that the women of this region had professions. In the Azores most people, male and female, were laborers. If you’ve worked in American records, you’ve noted the conspicuous blank spot next to women on the census–even those you know work. In these records in the periods after 1800 where professions are listed, the women are weavers, laundresses, artisans, day laborers, domestics, cooks, and so forth. Their profession is listed on the marriage and birth records along side of the men.
As I’ve researched my French ancestry, I’ve noticed a certain independent streak. Women who traveled alone as early as 1880. Women who were listed with occupations in the 1900 census. Women who took over the family business when their husbands died. Women who were politically active just after receiving the right to vote in California.
I do not know if this is indicative of French women as a whole. Perhaps the Southern region produced independent women. All I know is that it is wonderful to see. Just knowing that my ancestor was a weaver or that she could write her name adds a little more to the stories in my tree.