A gentle breeze ripples the surface of the water. The branches of a weeping willow seem to want to caress this expanse where a pair of swans frolic. Richelieu Park is located just a few hundred meters from my house, but it is peaceful there. I took my notebook and my portable writing desk. I sit down at a picnic table. At high tide, this gentle breeze could turn into gusts.
« My dear Rose, how are you?
• Watson! I thought you had retired?!
• Yes, Rose, but Catherine called me recently, and it made me want to get back to work. Ultimately, I get bored in my pencil pot.
• That’s fortunate, you can help me. You know that Ellen WINT married Patrick Beckett BELLEW as her first husband in 1859 in London?
• Yes, and I think Ellen lived in France with her mother, stepfather, and their two children. When did she come back to England?
• I don’t know, Watson, but probably shortly before the wedding. I believe it was an arranged marriage.
• Who is this Patrick Beckett BELLEW? • He’s a descendant of a prominent Irish family. His father was a captain in the Bengal army until 1832 when he retired. Patrick Beckett was born in 1831 in Northumberland, England.
• It seems that the middle name is the surname of a more or less distant ancestress.
• Exactly, Watson! I’m stuck on this Beckett name. I’m searching, and as you know, I won’t give up even if I have to list all the Becketts from Great Britain and Ireland from the 17th to the 19th century!
• Don’t forget, I see everything, Rose. You often deviate to the tree of one of these women and lose your primary objective.
• Yes, Watson, tracing a family tree in England is very complex. There is little information on the documents, and as we reach the higher branches, the writings become vague. Additionally, the names of wives are no longer mentioned.
• Back to the matter at hand. So, you think it was an arranged marriage. Why?
• Ellen lived in France and left no trace of her presence in London before her wedding. I assume the marriage was arranged by her grandfather John Pusey WINT and her mother Maria. Let’s not forget that Ellen’s father served in the royal army until his death in 1840. Who knows, he might have been a comrade-in-arms with Patrick’s father.
• Rose, do you think there’s some vanity at play? Remember, the great-grandfather was just a merchant. Marrying his granddaughter into a distinguished family would have been a way to enhance the family’s standing!
• Maybe, Watson! They were married on October 21, 1859, in London. Their relatives were not present at the wedding.
• They had two children: Francis Beckett born on October 11, 1860, in London and Maud Eliza born on March 11, 1867, in Ilford, a village near London. I also read that Frank Bellew, a renowned caricaturist in America, wasn’t kind to him. He accuses him of, in a way, living off of him.
• Yes, Watson, but he is known for his lack of tact and politeness. He spares no one from his sharp pen, not family, friends, or even the government. Between 1861 and 1864, Ellen and Patrick lived on Frank’s property in the Fordham neighborhood of New York. I don’t know how long they stayed with this rude man, but they were back in England by the birth of their daughter.
• Patrick Beckett was the captain of a merchant ship. However, no document specifies his role in the company.
• His brother has passed on his doubts to us. He died onboard on September 10, 1869, from a lung disease. So, my friend, Ellen was widowed at 29 with two children. She still has her whole life ahead of her.
Watson returned to his pencil pot, and I close my portable desk. The wind is rising, the sky filling with clouds, and it’s getting colder. In full mating ritual, the swans offer a majestic ballet. In front of his mate, the male fluffs up his feathers. They caress each other, strut around, and glide side by side on the water. Enchanted, their bodies form a heart. They are united for life. The wind salutes this marriage with a gust, and the willow weeps with joy. Children run, play, and shout. They don’t disturb the park’s inhabitants, who are used to their presence. One last look at the couple, and I’m on my way. Birds sing, flowers give off their fragrance, branches rustle, gravel crunches underfoot, my heart is light, and I return with a peaceful soul.
A rebrousse temps généalogie 