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Contents
INTRODUCTION 8
My Father's Ancestors: 1. INSLEY 19 2. ECCLESTON 115 3. PITRON 119 4. LE PAGE 126 5. MOURANT 131 6. LE GROS 159 7. LE MAISTRE 176 8. BOYD 188 9. MOREL 197 My Mother's Ancestors: 10. ROBINSON 214 11. WALKER 250 12. WOOD (including MICKLEBURGH) 255 13. RAVENSHAW 307 14. BRITTAIN 319 15. NEAME 324 16. WRIGHT 357 17. GRIX 363 18. TURNER 371
EPILOGUE 376
INDEX 379
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Introduction
I have found on several occasions that when some people start their research into their family history and begin to make some headway in tracing their forebears, that they then become fascinated with the idea that they may be descended from an old noble family and that they may be entitled to use an old "Coat of Arms" and Family Crest. I have often smiled at the thought that there should be so many individuals whose grandparents or great grandparents, or earlier forebears, should have turned their backs upon their noble families and that Armorial Bearings were there waiting to be "claimed".
My own interest in my forebears started when a retired Schoolmaster, Francis Pimblett Insley, noticed in 1955 the announcement of my engagement to Jane Goldsmith which had been placed by her parents in the Daily Telegraph. That announcement included my parents' address and "FPI", as we came to know him, wrote to my father to tell him of his own interest in researching his own family forebears and asking whether my father had any information which might be helpful to him.
As a result of that letter I began to seek information about our INSLEY forebears, beyond the details which were provided for us by our elderly great aunts and great uncles who were then living in Bournemouth. It was my great uncle Ernest (born in 1879) who was the seventh of ten children, who wrote to provide information about his father, who had been born in Warwickshire in 1834 and who had been the first of the family to go to St.Malo in Brittany (in 1860) to start an export business. That export business was to continue until the arrival of the German armed forces early in June 1940.
Over the following ten years or so FPI and I worked together to try to trace our respective branches of the family and wondered whether we might even be distantly related. Those were the days before the "explosion" of interest in family history research and before the IGI was widely available. The International Genealogical Index, or the "IGI" as it is usually known, has been produced by the Church of Latter Day Saints, the "Mormon Church". After obtaining approval for the micro-filming of old parish registers they then produced indexes of marriages and baptisms in most of the old parishes in Great Britain, the USA, Canada, New Zealand and Australia. Those have since been followed by the filming of other old records held by Non- Conformist churches in this country as well as other records in other countries.
As copies of the IGI became available for purchase by County Record offices and private individuals this greatly helped those who were interested in researching their ancestors. The whole process "snowballed" and old County Records, which had previously not been available for general research by members of the public were also made available on microfilm and microfiche. FPI and I were not to find any direct link between our two branches, although ultimately I suppose that such a link may well have existed.
FPI was one of those who would dearly have liked to trace his descent back to a noble family. At the beginning of 1956 he wrote to The College of Arms asking that a search should be carried
8 out to see whether Armorial Bearings had in the past been granted to a member of the INSLEY family.
On 23rd.January 1956 Robin de La Lanne-Mirrlees, "Rouge Dragon", wrote to FPI to report upon the result of the search which he had arranged to be carried out. There was a record of a Visitation in Leicestershire in 1682, which gives the pedigree of HENSSLIE or INSLEY having an Irish extraction. He provided a copy of the Arms, which had appeared in Nichols History of Leicestershire in Volume IV on page 272.
Captain Richard HENSSLIE, or INSLEY, had three sons and two daughters. The first son, Thomas, married twice. By his first wife he had one son who died unmarried and three daughters. He then married Catherine, the widow of Gabriel ABBOT, by whom he had two more daughters and a son, Gabriel, but Gabriel, in his turn only had three daughters. Richard's second son, also Richard, died unmarried and the third son, Simon, had three daughters and no sons.
It is, thus, documented that the male descent from Captain HENSSLIE had died out and it was clear that neither FPI, nor any other INSLEY, could have been descended from him by male descent! Rouge Dragon told FPI that he had also carried out other searches but had found no record of a pedigree of the name of INSLEY, nor any support for the falcon's head crest which had been mentioned by my great uncle Ernest INSLEY! Rouge Dragon concluded his letter to FPI by explaining that in order to have the right to use Armorial Bearings it is usually necessary to possess a pedigree in the Official Records of the College of Arms showing the direct male line of descent from an ancestor already appearing in those records as being officially entitled to Arms. FPI decided at that stage to "drop" these enquiries as Rouge Dragon had also told him that the only way forward would be to arrange for a petition to be made to the Earl Marshall, the Duke of Norfolk, which seemed to be a very expensive procedure!
Ever since FPI sent me this information I have sought to dissuade others who had vague visions of being able to prove their descent from a noble family and thus entitled to use an old Coat of Arms.
In those days when FPI first wrote to me - 1955 - I was about to be married but even so I was willing and able to become involved in some correspondence and visits to parish vestries to look at the old registers, which were generally still held by the Vicars in those days. Over the next few years my growing family took up more and more time and my job also became more demanding so that the time which I was willing to devote to "family history research" was quite limited. From time to time, however, I picked up bits of information and wrote to, and received letters from, others who were also researching their INSLEY family forebears. It was, however, really a case of putting any such letters into an old file - not quite an "old shoe box!" - and promising that one day I would try to sort them all out. After 1982, when I obtained copies of some of the IGI, I was able to look at these but even then I was not willing to devote sufficient time to this latent hobby.
The "sorting out" did not really happen until I retired at the end of 1989, 35-years later! I decided to give myself a retirement present - a small PC - and started to learn how to type, with about four or five fingers!
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It was at this stage that I realised that I had actually gathered quite a lot of information over the years about the INSLEYs whose names appeared in various old records as well as the IGI, in addition to those particular members of the family who are, in one way or another, connected to my particular branch. Those details are available to any others who are researching their own branches of the family if they care to write to me. Those names are NOT referred to in this book, which is intended to be the Story of my own branch only.
As I have already mentioned, my great uncle Ernest, who was the seventh of ten children, had written a letter in 1956 giving me information about the time which his father, Edward, (1834- 1917) had spent in the United States of America a hundred years earlier, when he had made his fortune - and when his partner had then "lost" it, whilst Edward was on a visit back to his parents in Warwickshire. "Uncle Ernest" had also then recorded the story of his father's later decision to start an export business in St.Malo.
I had also had "passed down to me", by my mother, some notes which her father had made after his retirement as the Director of Railways in South West Africa (now Namibia) in 1922, in which he had recorded details of his career as a railway engineer in South Africa between 1897 and 1920. My grandmother had also left the Gold Medal and Illuminated Award with which she was presented at the direction of the Shah of Persia in 1893, which now hangs on the wall of my study, the story of which I tell in the ROBINSON FAMILY STORY.
Details of another branch of my forebears, the WOOD family of Shropshire, had also been "left" to me by a favourite old great aunt (in truth a "cousin", not an aunt) which was in the form of "family trees" which had been prepared by an (un-named) American cousin at some time during the 1930s.
Having started by trying to trace back my INSLEY forebears, and then being handed a copy of an incomplete WOOD family tree, which also included some of my ROBINSON ancestors, who were directly linked with the WOODs, I slowly began to realise that I had already forgotten stories, which had been told to me many years before by my parents, who by that time had died.
It seemed to me that there was relatively little point in my being able to produce long "genealogical trees", if I was unable to add any "flesh to the bones" by being able to record some stories about the individuals whose names appeared on these "trees". So the idea of writing a collection of "family stories" took shape.
My first aim was to complete my concentric "extended family tree" which would at the very least provide the names of my thirty-two great, great, great, grand-parents. As will be seen from my current version of this "tree", I have been able to trace at least the names of all thirty-two of my gt.,gt.,gt.,grandparents but for various reasons several of the dates and places of birth/baptism have not been found. Three of the Channel Island families go back over 200-years to individuals who came to Jersey at the time of the French Revolution and I have not been able to trace their origins. In the cases of six others of the same generation, who were born in England, I have been able to trace their marriages but have not yet discovered the places of their baptisms. Family history research is a continuing hobby!
Having (nearly) completed this concentric tree I then started to collect - from cousins and others - "family stories" of eighteen of these 32-families. The genealogical trees of some of these
10 eighteen families go back to the 1600s and, in the cases of two of the Channel Island families, from whom my father's mother was descended, I have been able to provide some details of those families which go back to 1550 or even earlier.
In some cases I have found an original record of a marriage which shows that one, or both, of the couple did not know how to sign their name in the old parish register and merely "made their mark". In such cases I have shown this by adding "(X)" after their surname in the "Descendants Charts" and in the "Lines of Descent", which are included with the stories of these families. The real "family stories", which I have included in this book, include those of my sixteen great, great grandparents together with stories of two other families, the LE MAISTRE, from Jersey and RAVENSHAW from Shropshire.
That means that there are still families for whom I am providing very little information of any kind, apart from the names of these great, great, grand-parents - with some limited information which appears in the stories of their husband or wife. Perhaps when others read this book they may wish to extend the search for even more information about the other families!
In addition to two of the Jersey families, to whom I have just referred, who have been traced back to about 1550, I have traced our branches of both the INSLEY and ROBINSON families back to the early 1600s. That was all a long time ago and, in relation to those times, I was interested to learn, recently, that it was in May 1549 (just over 450-years ago), at Pentecost, that lay members of the Church of England in this country were able - for the very first time - to hear the Service of Holy Communion said in their parish churches in English, rather than in Latin.
Reading the stories about these families will soon reveal that several of the families originated in the Channel Islands and, indeed, many of the present generations of those families still live in those islands. It is not long ago that the language spoken by those families was "Jersey French" or "Guernsey French" - not really French, but more closely linked to French than to English. That is not surprising when one realises that Jersey is only about 14-miles from the French Normandy coast. I mention this in order to remind those who may read these stories that prior to the 20th.century names were often recorded in the old parish registers in the local "Jersey French" language. The name Jean, therefore, is the boy's name of John and is not the girl's name, of the same spelling in English. The similar girl's name would appear in the old registers as Jeanne. Where appropriate I have recorded the names of many others as they appear, so that Edward is given as "Edouard" and Philip appears as "Philippe".
After having compiled the concentric tree I then used this as the basis for the writing or collection of "stories" about these different families. It will not be surprising to see that I have written most about my own INSLEY family forebears. But the story of my maternal grandmother's elder sister, Janet, who was the governess to the son of the last of the Emperors of Russia, and which is told in the NEAME FAMILY STORY, makes fascinating reading as well. Much of the information, in some of the other "family stories", has been provided for me by cousins, some of whom I knew whilst even the names of other cousins were completely new to me when I started this research. In some cases the facts which they gave to me have been confirmed by others or have been traced from copies of old newspapers which I have found in County Record Offices. But not all "stories" are guaranteed to be accurate. Indeed doubt is cast upon the story of one of the WOOD forebears who was severely gored by a lion, whilst he was
11 in the Army in Africa, and where, fearing sepsis in his wounds, he was immersed for several days in a solution of potassium permanganate!
The collection of stories, most of them true and capable of verification, has given me much pleasure, principally as a result of the contacts which I have made with cousins, close and distant - in several cases with "sixth" and "seventh" cousins. They have told me about members of their branches of their families, who nevertheless are also some of my own ancestors - or are the descendants of those ancestors.
I have intentionally made very little reference to the present members of these families who were born after about 1940/1945. I decided that it would probably be unfair that I, now one of the "older generation", should try to say something about these, the "present generation". It is more than likely that their jobs may change and, in some cases, that their marriages may not "survive" and that they would not welcome comments by me. So, I have given names and years of birth and marriage, as the case may be, and will leave them and their children to bring the story of their own family "up-to-date" at some time in the future, should they be sufficiently interested to do so.
Many researchers have found, as I have, that few members of a family are seriously interested in their ancestors. It is not until one nears retirement age that even those who are mildly interested have the time to devote to this fascinating (for me) hobby. As my interest in this hobby started with my constructing "family trees" it will not be surprising that in the cases of the earlier generations (prior to 1800) I often have little personal information about the members of those families and the personal stories often only start about 150 years ago.
Nevertheless I hope that the members of my wider family who receive a copy of this book - and any others who acquire a copy - will obtain some pleasure from reading these "family stories" and that members of other families too may be encouraged to write their own family "histories", before those stories too are "lost" to future generations. Perhaps, however, I should make it clear at the start that these stories about my family are not written with literary skill, which might win a prize for an English essay, but are written in a manner which I might use when telling these stories to my children and grandchildren and as I have been told by my parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts and others.
I believe that anybody who carries out extensive family history research must, from time to time, make mistakes. I have done my best to check and cross-check the details which I have included in this book and I think that all of the details which are given are correct. However, I am bound to accept that there may be errors. To those who may notice or find such errors I offer my apologies. I would be very pleased to hear of any such errors so that I may correct my own records and, where appropriate advise others who may be interested.
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Those who know me and my wife, Jane, will know and those who read this book will learn that we both have many very happy memories of New Zealand. These stemmed originally from our family contacts in that country. Jane's great uncle, her grandfather's brother, was an early settler in that country. Jane forged a close link with her GOLDSMITH cousins who live near
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Palmeston North, in the North Island, when she spent nearly two years in New Zealand in 1953/55.
My links started when I was about 8-years old, when I was encouraged to "swap stamps" with my sixth-cousin David EXLEY. We share a common ancestor, William INSLEY, who was the son of an agricultural labourer, and was born in 1791 in Warwickshire. It was not until 1989 that I fulfilled a promise made to my wife in 1956 and took her back to that lovely country and met David in his own home. Our previous meetings had been in England and in New York in the USA. I fell in love with the country - and we have spent other wonderful, long holidays there in 1992 and 1998. It has been this attachment to New Zealand as a country and my interest in the history of the country and of the Maoris, that has led to my reading several of the books written by a Maori author, Witi Ihimaera. He was born in 1944 at Waituhi, near Gisborne, in the North Island, New Zealand's most Easterly city. It was at Gisborne that Captain Cook made his first landfall in New Zealand on 9th.October 1769. The first Maoris settlers probably arrived from Hawaii about 1,000 years ago. Maori culture developed without hindrance from other cultures for hundreds of years and as those early Maori settlers had no written language their history and culture is recalled through story-telling and songs.
The author, Witi Ihimaera, now teaches in Auckland University. He has become well known as the author of a number of Maori stories and anthologies and, I now gather, is in demand to speak in the USA - and Singapore, too. The more of Witi Ihimaera's books that I read the more I am attracted to the Maori culture.
The following is a short story, published for the first time in a collection of Maori stories in 1995 under the title "Kingfisher Come Home". I hope that you, the reader, will enjoy it - even though you may not know the full meaning of all of the Maori words which are incorporated. With Witi's full agreement, I have decided to include this short story as it seems to provide an explanation of my own fascination with my "family history", in a delightful manner which I would never hope to be able to achieve in my own words.
"KI GFISHER COME HOME."
Whenever I think of home, I think of the kingfisher. I don't know why. Perhaps it is because the quick silver flash of his reflection across the river seems to define my memories of home: magical, happy with a warmth which I have not often found in the city.
I have been here now, in Wellington, for about fifteen years. I haven't been home for some time. I'm happy enough in the city. Yet at times when I am walking along the crowded streets, I find myself thinking : There's something missing here. Something wrong.
I find myself stopping, looking at my reflection in the window of a department store, while the passers by stream across the glass. I pause, I wonder, and always the same answer comes to me : There's no whanau here.
I go to parties, I drink with my mates at the pub, my life is filled with laughter and excitement. I play hockey for the only Maori team in Wellington our team is usually a scratch up one, filled
13 with mates we've found drinking in the pub who have never played the game before and most time I never think of Waituhi. Then, when I least expect it, when I am laughing and enjoying myself, the kingfisher casts his wings across my mind, and I remember my whanau, my family, again. The world around me recedes and all I can hear is the call of the kingfisher.
These are my home calling moods. Whenever I feel them, all I want to do is be alone. I will walk away from a party. I will even ask for a few hours off from work, if the home calling is strong enough.
Sometimes I have got out of bed in the middle of the night, flung a coat around my shoulders and walked down to the beach at Lyall Bay, there to sit among the rocks and watch the moon shimmering on the rippling water.
Once, Gillian came to sit with me, in silence, with her head resting on my shoulder.
Matiu, ever since your father returned to Waituhi, you've gotten worse and worse, she said.
That's not the problem, I answered. I miss the old man, sure. But he was never happy here after Mum died. I'm glad he's gone back.
Then what is it? she asked. You're too sentimental. You're too nostalgic. You can't have your childhood back.
I don't want my childhood back.
You live too much in the past.
It's not that either.
Gillian paused.
And you carry too many ghosts in your bones.
Ghosts. That may well be true. All those ancestors, not behind me but before me, to whom I am accountable. Always cajoling, like anny Miro. Or reprimanding like Riripeti, the great spiderwoman of Waituhi. But I would not want to be without them.
I tried to explain to Gillian that she had got part of it right but not all of it. How does one begin to explain or even define whanau?
It is more than family. It is more than place.
I suppose you could start by saying it is a feeling of belonging and having a shared history that has its source in a valley which has a river running through it. or is it just a contemporary history but one which goes back to the beginning of Time, when Earth Mother and Sky Father span out of Chaos.
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It has to do with always being taught that you have a purpose. A kaupapa. A reason for your life. This reason is not only to be a good son to your parents but also son, father, brother and friend to the rest of the whanau.
It is about living closely together, clustered around the painted meeting house, Rongopai, and never forgetting that life is a continuum, like a great rope of Man twisting and turning to the end of Time. The small rituals of life, like cleaning the gravestones in the family graveyard, honour the people who have been part of it.
It is meeting together as an iwi (a people) and sharing the joys, sadnesses and triumphs of living. The meetings range from the sublime, like the action song competitions, to the ridiculous, like the hockey and other sports tournaments held on the paddock where sheep have to be shooed off before you can play. Within this social framework it is about pitching in. Putting down the hangi. Cooking the kai. Making the meeting house ready for the visitors.
It is about taking people in when they are old or lonely or don't have any other place to stay.
It is the tangi, the sorrow of the marae, (the traditional meeting house) when one of the whanau dies. It is the women calling to the visitors : Haere mai ki o tatou mate e ... Come to our dead ...
The tangihanga is the final home calling. One of the great honours of life is to witness the passing of one of the whanau. o matter how far away from Waituhi the whanau may go, there will always be somebody to bring you back home again for your final resting. "If you are born a Maori", Dad used to say, "you die a Maori."
All of these describe whanau and remembering the whanau makes me yearn for home.
My past and present are in Waituhi and my future, too, I guess. There, also, are my bones, my ghosts.
My passion.
It was Mum and Dad who brought me and my sister, Roha, to Wellington. I must have been about eight when we came. I went down to the river to say goodbye to the kingfisher.
I remember that trip down as if it was yesterday. Dad had bought an old car from Mister Wallace. He was tired of the gypsy life as a shearer and thought there was a better way of living. It took us two days to get to Wellington. Two days. It was like being on a yellow brick road but there were signs along the way which should have warned us : STEEP GRADE. CHA GE DOW . O E WAY. LIMITED SPEED ZO E. ROAD ARROWS. STOP. WI DI G ROAD. GO. CO CEALED EXIT. TRAFFIC LIGHTS AHEAD. GREASY WHE WET. O EXIT. O PASSI G. O STOPPI G.
As it happened, life in Wellington turned out to be just a continuation of that journey. Full of challenges. Full of you can't do this and you can't do that. And always the people who were issuing the orders were Pakeha. (White people) As I grew up and got on I realised that this was racism, but my father would never have used that word himself.
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Some Emerald City.
I was nineteen when Mum died. Dad took her back to Waituhi. I thought he'd stay, but he came back for a few years to be near me and Roha. Then I married Gillian and Roha married Charlie and Dad decided to return to Waituhi for good. By then it was too late for me and too late for my sister, Roha.
You've done this on purpose, Roha said to Dad.