What can your great-great-grandparents predict about you?

There’s been a lot of interest lately in a study looking at wealthy families in England, which shows that people with ‘posh’ surnames are just as likely to be well-off as their ancestors in 1850 were. Social mobility’s a myth, it suggests. You're more likely to inherit your great-great-grandparents' jobs than their height.

And you may think that’s not surprising. England’s just as divided by class now, you might say, as it was in the days of Downton Abbey – or Wolf Hall.

But wait a minute – there are similar results in the USA. And in Japan, India, South Korea, Chile, and (surprisingly) Sweden and even China.

So here's the question for genealogists and family historians: do the jobs your great-great-grandparents did predict what you do today?

And before anyone says: "What? I’m a web designer, my partner’s a radiologist, my sister works in TV and my brother’s an air traffic controller," let’s stop and think about what those jobs really mean.

No, Ug, you can't be a farmer. Our family's always been hunter-gatherers.

Why do people do the work they do? For money, of course, or because they love it (if they’re lucky), but also for status. That’s what people are really asking when they say: "And what do you do?" They mean: "What sort of person are you?" and "Are you like me?" And if the answer’s "I’m the CEO of a finance company and my husband’s a rat-catcher" there would be a few startled people wondering what people with such different status (and incomes) are doing together. Even in 2015.

I’ve taken a look back at my own great-great-grandparents. On my Welsh grandmother’s side there were farmers. John Lloyd and his wife Elizabeth Jones farmed, just as their parents had done (and, I’m willing to bet, their own great-great-grandparents did). So did Thomas Davies and Sarah, his wife. They had middle-sized farms and employed help, so they would’ve been comfortably off, neither poor nor rich.

My Welsh grandfather’s family isn’t so easy to track down. Griffith Owen, my great-grandfather, was a mariner and it’s possible that his wife Elizabeth’s father was involved in the same trade. But I haven’t been able to track them down any further, partly because pinning down a Griffith Owen from Anglesey has turned out to be tough – there were a lot of them, and the records aren’t consistent. Still, my research shows that his father was a probably a farmer, an agricultural labourer, a slate-splitter, a brewer, or worked for the railway.

Moyne, where Lucy and Thomas Delaney lived © Patricia Owen

On the Australian side, Thomas Delaney and Lucy Simpson were farmers, again neither poor nor rich. Thomas’s father, Nicholas Delaney, my first convict, settled down as a farmer after being a roadbuilder. Lucy’s parents, both convicts, were a tailor and a farm servant.

Robert Sandon Wilson worked in the New South Wales goldfields but disappeared a few years after marrying my great-great-grandmother, Sarah Emma Henley (or Dicks). A photo of Sarah and their children shows them as respectably dressed, but I don’t know what she did for money after Robert vanished.

On my Aussie grandmother’s side, James Thomas Richards, a convict, became a top waterman and I’ve no evidence of his wife Rebecca Harrington working. John Winter, a rail labourer, was poor enough to take an ‘assisted passage’ to Australia – in other words, his fare was paid by a sponsor – and took up his father’s trade of quarryman. I haven’t found out what his wife, Ann Graham, another assisted immigrant and a blind pauper’s daughter, did to bring in money.

It’s a mixture of poor and comfortably-off people, all hard-working. Mostly they carried on doing what their parents had done. For some, going to Australia meant they had better lives, but they didn’t all end up with higher status – to be a convict, even a well-off one, left you with a ‘stain’ in respectable society. It was my grandparents who broke away from the family trades and moved to white-collar jobs in cities, though my Lloyd grandmother kept the family farm going. All still working hard.

And that’s what I do today – tapping away at my keyboard in a city. Job status-wise, what does that make me? Not high, not low, somewhere in the middle, like most people living in the UK. Despite our obsession with class – and the fact that the income gap is widening.

I’d love to know what you think about this five-generation theory, and if your great-great-grandparents’ jobs have any relation to you today.

Are you working in the same sort of trade or craft? Or have you broken away?

Keeping up with the Joneses, or making sense of census place names

Well, it had to happen. Anyone researching Welsh genealogy is likely to find a Jones somewhere in their tree. I’d been lucky until I started looking at my paternal 2x great grandmother, Elizabeth Lloyd (c1820 – c1890).

I’m planning a post about how I discovered more about her on my A Rebel Hand blog, so I won’t go over the details here, but eventually I found enough evidence pointing to her being born Elizabeth Jones in Llandysul, Cardiganshire (now Ceredigion) in Wales. Jones! Now that’s going to make research into her family easier, I don’t think.

Some of the material I used came from maps. If you’re a regular reader of Worldwide Genealogy you’ll have noticed that I love maps, old and new. They can fill in so much detail about our ancestors’ lives and can help solve the problem of streets, houses and farms which have changed names as well as when they were built. I’m going to write about how maps gave me a bigger overview of the background of Elizabeth and her husband, John Lloyd, who married in 1841.

1841 Wales census via Ancestry

Here she is with her parents, Jinkin [sic] and Anne and her brother David in the 1841 census. (I still haven’t come near to pinning David down. David Jones in Wales? I mean, please!) But where are they living? It looks like Gwarllenoydor. Google couldn’t find anything like that. Luckily I had an image of Elizabeth’s marriage to John Lloyd which had Gwarllwynoedos as the farm’s name.

Image via Findmypast

Of course, census enumerators could have, ahem, eccentric spelling, and if this one didn’t speak Welsh he’d have made a stab at it without being able to recognise some words,such as llwyn, bush or grove. So armed with the new spelling I searched again and found... nothing. I went back to the census and looked for a nearby farm, Cribor, adding the parish name, Llandysul (also spelled Llandissil), to get an idea of where to look. Yes! It was near Pontshaen (also Pontsian).

Now this is where luck came in. I was looking at the family story that my Lloyds were related to Frank Lloyd Wright. I’d been intrigued by Eliot Ball’s Wikipedia Ancestor Challenge at North Sydney Family History (thanks to GeniAus’s GAGs for pointing it out). And Frank's family came from... near Pontshaen.

I tingled. I had a map of the area already saved!

Ordnance Survey map showing Gwarllwynoedos

And what a map. I’d found it by looking for Frank’s ancestors’ chapel, since his Lloyd Joneses were famous Unitarian preachers, and luckily it was a listed building. The Listed Buildings Online site led me to this Ordnance Survey (OS) map. And there, in the top right corner, was... Gwarllwynoedos. Thank you, genealogy map fairy! So, here’s a hint: if you’re looking for ancestors in Britain and they lived near an old or unusual building, try Listed Buildings Online.

Google map not showing Gwarllwynoedos

I find the OS maps better than Google's for places in the countryside – here’s the equivalent – and Bing is great for getting an idea of the landscape, which can be so important to how our ancestors lived and who they met and married.

Bing aerial view of Gwarllwynoedos area

But for finding named buildings, OS is the one for me. Why not try all three out for yourself? I’m not so keen on the OS’s own get a map feature, though.

After I’d had my genealogy happy dance, I decided to see if I could find where John Lloyd, Elizabeth Jones’s husband, lived. The marriage document said Blaencerdyn, also in the parish of Llandysul, which was backed up by the 1851 census (as Blaencerdin). I had no luck with the Blaencerdyn spelling, so I tried the other. This time Google recognised the name – but came up with Blaencerdin Fawr and Blaencerdin Fach, both in the same area of Llandysul. Fawr means big and fach means small, it’s a common pairing in Welsh place names, so I was fairly confident that I was looking in the right place.

But Google Maps didn’t recognise either spelling, so I tried GenUKI’s list of Llandysul farms. I was excited to see that Blaencerdin Fawr was in the district of Llanffrene, just like Gwarllwynoedos was. I tried the OS get a map site, and was thrilled to see that the two farms were near each other. Elizabeth and John were neighbours! So that’s how they met.

OS get a life map - you can see why I'm not mad about the picture quality

With this information, I went back to my listed buildings OS map and found Blaencerdin Fach. So I had the ‘big’ farm and the ‘little’ one on two different OS maps. I needed both on the same map, though.

OS map of both Blaencerdins

I took a gamble and zoomed in on the listed buildings OS map and got lucky. Hint – use the + and – symbols, not your mouse scroll wheel, they’re more accurate for this map.

But which one was John Lloyd’s farm? This is where Ancestry’s back and forward arrows on the census images came into their own. I’d usually pinpoint the building by seeing what their immediate neighbours were and check the enumeration district details at the beginning of the record, then hope to find the places on the map. But this time I got lucky. One page on in the 1851 census there was a family living at... Blaencerdin Fach! So I knew that John was at the ‘big’ farm, Blaencerdin Fawr.

OS First Series map showing Blaencerdin (top left) and Gwarllwynoedos (bottom right)

I could also have checked at A Vision of Britain, Ordnance Survey First Series 1:63360, 1805 to 1869, which shows the two farms as Blaencerdin and Blaencerdin Fach, or Old Maps Online, but I’d need the co-ordinates for that since Blaencerdin doesn’t come up in their search. I’d have needed more information to use the National Library of Scotland’s wonderful map-matching service, too.

There was one last map I needed to go to. My own. I mark the places where my ancestors lived using Google Maps. I added them to my Lloyds map, alongside Sadlers Hall, where John and Elizabeth's son Rhys (my great-grandfather) later lived. And only this week I was able to add Rhyol, another Jones farm. Now that was a real toughie to track down!

But this post is l-o-n-g enough already. I hope you weren’t put off by the length. I wanted to ‘show my workings’, as they told us to at school, and hope that something here gives you a helpful tip for using maps to trace ancestors from Britain, if you have any.

Have you got any map tips to pass on?