Port de Grave

Yep, more Butler family research I'm afraid. But we really are near the end of this part of the trip, so forgive us our trespasses, as this blog also serves as a diary so we remember things, our brains being not what they used to be.

We are deep in Butler territory here. The first Butlers settled land here about 400 years ago, not long after Cupids was a going concern. 

It's in the middle of a long thin peninsula, with easy access to both sides. A good natural harbour is a plus, as the land is pretty open and exposed to the elements.

both sides of the same ocean

The French were the first ones to use this place, who gave it its name (meaning harbour of the beach), but they used it only during the summer cod fishery. The Andrews family were the first here, and Thomas Butler (aha!) followed shortly, and by 1675 his was the largest of the three existing plantations, according to Newfoundland's first census.

The French fishers did not approve of such wealth in so-called English hands and they came along and burned the entire place down. Not once, but twice. So there.

But the Butlers and others came back and continued to fish for generations more.

Jenny connected with the Port de Grave Heritage Society a few months ago, and she was connected to a local lady who had traced her Butler roots all the way back to Thomas. Now 80, Mona Petten invited us to visit her at home and compare notes, and then drove us around to various cemeteries that might be of interest.

the very tiny and very old Butler cemetery

the bell is where the Methodist church was,
and the graves are up the hill behind

As it happened the original Thomas had two sons - James and John. Various generations of Jameses are quite well documented, and Mona is descended from those. I am of the John line, which is a little less documented so there is still work for me to do to confirm the dots I have. Some of the Jameses members made names for themselves and became quite well known. It would appear that the Johns were a little less illustrious.

It was raining and cold when we visited the two oldest cemeteries in Port de Grave, the tiny Butler cemetery, reserved for that illustrious (ahem) family, and the Methodist cemetery that was behind the long-gone church. There are very few graves in both, and almost none with legible gravestones. The only ones still readable are too recent to be of service, but it was fascinating to see that graves here were generally placed up on hills, commanding wonderful views for those who no longer had eyes to see.

struggling steep hill to see a grave that couldn't be read

a rare grave that could still be read,
for John and Susan Butler, but are they relations?

most of the graves had only a shard of the
original stone, and all worn clean

Back to the prosperous harbour, where the crab fishery is in full swing. I am told that there are still Butlers living here, no doubt a few double digit cousins. Nice to know.

the still active harbour at Port de Grave

one of the Port de Grave Historical Society's next projects?

Hibbs Hole where Mona lives

at Hibbs Hole

the generous and kind Mona

sunset over Port de Grave and the end of the family history part of our trip

    

Cupids

This is for all us history nerds. If that's not your bag, then I invite you to pour yourself a glass of wine, or take a nap. I won't take long, Promise.

In 1610 a man named John Guy sailed out of Bristol, England armed with a royal charter to set up the first settlement in Newfoundland, and take advantage of what had become a very lucrative cod fishing industry. Competitive too, as Portuguese, Basque, Spanish, French and English fishers raced to Newfoundland to obtain the first batch of cod, dry it and salt it, and bring it back to the old world where it was in high demand.

John Guy reasoned that a permanent settlement on the Island would provide an advantage. He and 39 others came (including one Samuel Butler who is plausibly my ancestor - I'm working on confirmation of that link!), settling in what was then Cuper's Cove, and which is now known as Cupids. More joined them in 1612, including 16 women. 

Those first few years were devilishly hard work. 

They not only had to clear land and build sufficient accommodation but also built fortification to protect them from raiders. They were charged with building a forge, raising livestock, establishing farms, seek resources and collect ore and wood. Oh, and fish, dry, salt full time during the season.

Not easy is an understatement. The weather was harsh, and several died in the first few years, The soil was too poor for farming grain, and scurvy was persistent, until it was discovered that turnips were a good source of vitamin C (much later). 

They built a boat, the first built in Canada, called the Indeavour. Its first voyage was to Trinity Bay for establishing a trading relationship with the Beothuk First Nations people.

The infamous pirate Peter Easton took what little livestock the settlers had. John Guy himself went back to England in a bit of a huff and for good in 1615, taking some of the settlers back to Bristol with him.

The remainers stayed and moved on to nearby harbours, including Port de Grave, expanding England's hold on this, Britain's very first of its many future colonies. 

This original plantation at Cupids, the second oldest still remaining settlement in the new world, beaten by Jamestown Virginia by 3 years, has only fairly recently been located. In the late 1990s, Bill Gilbert found it, and is currently excavating it with a small team. It is he who determined the above engraving was John Guy. It's old school archaeology, with slow, hand sifting bit by bit, as much as can be done each summer season. History is being revealed, layer by layer.

a canon would have been placed on this stone base,
which would have been higher back then

check out that 500 year old 90 degree angle!

cobblestones means this area was for livestock

when the digging gets down to the pale orange colour as on the right, it stops. That soil is sterile, which means it was never disturbed by human activity

an outline of the original building gives perspective

A woman who lives there in her trailer allowed this band of archaeologists to dig up her back garden. In return, when the land was secured from the Province, she has been allowed to stay in her home as long as she needs it. 

surrounded!

When she is gone, the trailer will be removed and what is underground will be revealed. Imagine living above North American history, making a pot of coffee over ancient gun plinths or blacksmith hearths perhaps. 

the entire site on which Canada was founded

Topsail

We picked up our rental car (booked 5 minutes after booking our flight to ensure we got a rare and precious vehicle for the duration) and hit the road in sunshine.

Some claim to live in Paradise, but we claim to have passed it on the road, although the sign indicates Paradise is all around us, in every direction.

Even Paradise is sponsored and commercialized though...

With that little roadside philosophy in our minds, we went 5 minutes further to a seaside summer holiday town of Topsail.

And why to this little spot barely out of St. John's? Well, if I said it had something to do with my family research would you be completely surprised? 

At some point in the mid- or late-1800s, my Butler family moved from Port de Grave to Topsail. For generations there were Butlers who spent half the year Topsail where their gardens and livestock were kept, after the other half spent fishing from their homes in Port de Grave, across Conception Bay. Easy if you have a boat, and my family were always ships' captains and fishers. 

It seems my particular Butler family moved to Topsail more fully, and for many years. Perhaps to spend more time with other Butler cousins? Perhaps because the matriarch of the generation,, Priscilla passed away? I have no idea, as I could find nothing at all about my great-great-great grandmother Priscilla except her name on a couple of birth certificates in 1834 and 1836.

Poor women. Rarely mentioned in documents, never in censuses. In the early days the cattle were mentioned first! And yet they were the ones keeping the family generations going, often dying in the birthing process. So I have a soft spot for Priscilla Butler - birthdate unknown, marriage date unknown, deathdate unknown. Maybe she just doesn't want to be found.

But I did find the grave of Priscilla's husband, my great-great-great grandfather Charles Butler, 1796-1888, born in Port de Grave and died in Topsail, buried in what was the Methodist Churchyard. 

There is documentation to support the Butler family gave land for the first Methodist church there built in 1837. The original church was rebuilt in 1871, and then again in 1977 when it became the United Church. 

The imprint of the original Methodist church is still evident as a grassy patch, around which the oldest graves are located, including "my" Charles. 

Martin standing on the footprint of the original Methodist church in Topsail

Reverend Kathy Brett was there to greet me and show me the burial record. I showed her a letter one of her predecessors wrote in 1891, expressing, in rather purple prose, the extreme loss to the community invoked by my family's upcoming move to BC. I think maybe Minister Samuel Snowdon might have been laying it on a bit thick, as it was a four page epic of regretful good-byes. I hope he got over it.   

the tireless Rev. Kathy Brett of Topsail United Church

In the Anglican churchyard across the street I found the first husband of my own great-grandmother, Emma Winsor Butler Gibbeson (and later McCoskrie). His name was John Gibbeson, born in Newcastle upon Tyne, England, who somehow made his way to Newfoundland, where he died aged 32 in 1885, here in Topsail, only a few months after his infant son John died. I found both their graves, the tall one of the father and the tiny one for the son. 

Infant John on the left, adult John next to him 

But can you imagine a more delightful spot to have ones bones laid to rest? On top of a hill overlooking a sweep of ocean crackling rhythmically over the pebbly beach.  

We finished our visit with a lovely country walk, passing ancient stone walls, 

a little less ancient old barn, 

and a characteristic old house with an unusual roof. 

I looked to see if there was any sign of my family's old 19th century home, of which I only have a photo of a front porch and doorway. 

Nope, long since gone. Just like the family itself.

Time to hit the road. 

Daily Post

 I imagine this room has seen many things over it's 100+ years, a woman blogging her travels probably one of the most prosaic.

  

Research Assistant

In our academic writing work, I take the lead and Jenny is the sous-chef. I am always happy to redress the balance by being Jenny’s sous-chef, in this case while she is delving into the dusty corners of her family tree. 

It's much less pressure not being in the driving seat. In fact it is no pressure at all. Just some precision and an eye for detail is needed - finding files, carrying files, sorting through files, looking for names amongst pages of births, deaths and marriages, carrying the laptop bag, staring out the window at the view from The Rooms reference library, chatting to Eileen from Manchester via Montreal at the Topsail United Church and Linda from Newfoundland in the Newfoundland Family History Society. 

Nine hours sifting in one go, no sweat. My first paid job was filing one summer for 60p an hour. I still appreciate a good filing system 

The Hunt Continues

Today, more hunting for more treasure.

This time at the office of the Family History Society of Newfoundland and Labrador. We had to take a taxi to get to the address I got from the website. 

"There" turned out to be a small office on an industrial estate off the highway.

Thank goodness for the warm welcome of Linda Crocker! Three hours went by in a flash as Linda gave us boxes to look through, copied and emailed documents and files as we sat, and beavered away at her own computer on my behalf. She even gave us coffee.

For a small annual fee, one can access, in person or online, this small room-sized box worth of shelves neatly piled floor to ceiling with file upon file, as well as boxes and books. Two or three amateur historians volunteer a few times a week, turning their own family tree research into a haven for other like-minded slaves to the past. 

I found and joined the Society a month or so ago, and went through as much online as I had time to, but nothing beats being here in person, talking to a real live Linda. Who even brought us coffee! 

Well, today was much the same result as yesterday, very little actual information.

But also as before, there were a few nuggets of virtual gold.

For example, I think I have found my great-great-grandfather's grave. In Topsail, where the family lived for a few years between their centuries in Port de Grave and their future generations in BC. 

Two dates had kept coming up on my radar for Charles Butler - 1796 and 1888 - but I couldn't quite believe that a ship's captain, fisher and sealer working the hard scrabble life of coastal Newfoundland actually lived for 91 years, but it appears pretty incontrovertibly that he did. 

I don't know if I was happier to have found him or to have found out I arise from some such hearty, long-lived genes.    

After three hours, we were a bit squirelly, so we headed back to the Rooms, this time to visit the museum and art galleries, which were wonderful. Then a dinner of cod tongue and beer to fortify us for the road ahead tomorrow. 

The Rooms Museum, up there on the hill near the Catholic Basilica  

Hunting for Buried Treasure

This holiday of ours includes a hunting trip for bits of hidden treasure, only the treasure being sought is hidden in mountains of documentation. Literally centuries of paperwork.

I know where my ancestors came from in Newfoundland to about 1830, but before that I have only a series of names and scraps of information gleaned from sifting through boxes of family letters and materials (thanks Mom for saving everything you could), and from reading books and accounts online.

I had hit a barrier, so investigating further required being here in person.

Well, ta da.

On a cold but rarely beautiful day we spent 9 hours of it in the Rooms Museum's Reference and Archive Centre. Martin generously played research assistant, and we got stuck into looking through parish records and vital statistics to see if we could find anything.

Not much as it happened. But there were a few nuggets.

I knew my great-grandmother Emma Winsor Butler married her first husband John Gibbson, who died at age 32. What I didn't know is she had given birth to a son, John William Butler (named after her father), and also that her married name was Gibbeson. There was never a question about the two Bs but no one really knew for sure E. 

Young John William Butler Gibbeson died in 1884, aged 8 months, only a few months before his father John Gibbeson died in 1885. That must have been one reason her brothers were able to persuade her to emigrate to Canada's west coast just after they themselves did in 1888.

9 hours work for very little new information, but we were quite satisfied. It was a signature day, being able to at least try. And we were not in some dusty basement, but in an airy room with a magnificent view over St. John's. Really, who wouldn't want to hunt for something hidden when one could look out on such treasure? 

    

Jellybean Travel Game

St. John's is famous for its Jellybean Row, houses of bright colours all in a row. The assumption is that as sailors and fishers and sealer returning home from long days or months at sea, they would look for their homes as they entered the harbour, which would not have been easy on rainy foggy days. Having a house painted a bright colour would help them identify which house was theirs and cheer them on their return from what was no doubt an exhausting, difficult job.

We saw the same thing in Inuvik, with bright palettes cheering those long winter nights. And also in Punta Arena, in southernmost Chile, which conversely needed cheery colours during the long dark nights of summer. At the top and the bottom of the world, these cheerfully painted houses were heart-lifting, and we wondered why there was not more colour in other cities that experience a lot of grey gloomy weather. Like Vancouver in November for example.  

Now the people of St. John's return home by air, or car, but the tradition of eye-popping row houses lives on, and have become a part of the cultural fabric of this place. 

Even our excellent B&B follows the theme. BTW if you even want to stay in "that" room in a wonderful inn, ask for # 9 (the Admirals Cove) at Roses Heritage Inn. 

It all reminds me of a game my father made up to occupy bored young bodies on family road trips. It involves jellybeans of as many colour options as possible, as well as my father's sweaty hand if we took too long to guess the right colour and got the bean. You probably get the idea.