Inquisition Records: Thick with Family

"If the surname of your family is listed here, I can provide data as to what happened to them: Burned alive, garroted and burned, enslaved, life imprisonment, torture. Many members of the same family suffered this fate." **

[Illustration, wikicommons: Francisco de Goya, Inquisition Tribunal]

CLICK TO SEE: LIST OF NAMES -- PORTUGUESE INQUISITION RECORDS

From: LES NOMS DE FAMILLE DES ARCHIVES DE RECHERCHE DU PORTUGAL « TORRE FONT TOMBE Du livre édité par Flavio Mendes Carvalho ***

Family Surnames that I discovered:

ALMEIDA: Surname for my uncle (husband of my father's sister) and my godfather, Joaquim, who named me "Aldina," a Sephardic/Turkish name. The Almeidas held land in Pedreiras, my paternal parish. Their property was adjacent to or near one of Vazao and/or Sousa land holdings. Likely, the Almeidas are distant blood relatives of mine.

BTW, Almeida is also the name of a town in North-West Portugal -- important militarily because the once-fortified town was near a road connecting Portugal and Spain. Theoretically, if you were trying to escape from the Spanish Inquisition, Almeida might be a good place to cross into Portugal.

BISPO: Great-great grandmother's surname. The women on my mothers' side are referred to as "Bispas." Original Matriarch had 11 surviving children and ran regional trading business; the eldest daughter was my great-grandmother Maria, who had only one surviving child, my grandmother, Maria do Rosario CARVALHO.

***CARVALHO: Common name in native region of my maternal family. Oak forests predominated at time of town's founding; Carvalho is oak in Portuguese. Carvalho is surname of my maternal grandmother. The name Carvalho passed to my mother's two sisters but not to my mother.

According to my mother, her father Francisco didn't like the name Carvalho because just about everybody in the parish was named Carvalho. So when he registered my mother with the town clerk, Francisco dropped the name Carvalho and replaced it with "do Rosario," i.e., of the Rosary, which was my maternal grandmother's middle name. Subsequently, the authorities became more rigid about names, and Francisco had to register his two younger daughters under their mother's surname, Carvalho.

HENRIGUES: Henriques, surname of Maternal relatives; my mom & her cousin share same great-grandparents.

MATTOS: variation of surname of maternal cousin who emigrated to Brazil, and then to NY. Matos means woods. Mata connotes thicket, wild forest, jungle. And, mata is the imperative of "to kill" -- mata-os means Kill Them.

PINTO: Paternal Grandfather. He kept the Pinto name, and was known about town as "Francisco Pinto." Nonetheless, he tried to "upgrade" our identity by taking advantage of bureaucratic chaos and registering as Morgado, which was the surname of the region's original gentry. "Morgado" passed to my mother, but local authorities prevented my grandfather from "upgrading" names of his younger daughters. While Pinto is on the Inquisition rolls, Morgado is not. The Pinto name did not pass to me, but Morgado did.

SIMAO: variation of surname of maternal relatives, and of my mother's godmother & mentor, and of my sister's godfather.

SOUZA: Spanish version of Portuguese SOUSA. Surname of my paternal grandmother, and one of my father's surnames.

VAZ: variation, perhaps original version, of my surname Vazao. Vazao could mean "The Big Vaz." There is an area in Portugal called "Vale de Vazao."

XAVIER: Surname of mother's second cousin

** Translation of French original: "Si votre nom de famille est énuméré ici je peux fournir des données quant a ce qui leur est arrive. Ils furent : Brûlés vifs, garrotés et brulés, esclavage d'office, emprisonnement perpétuel, tortures."

PHOTO courtesy of Clara Castelar, saudades.org

Clinging to Eden: Converso Names Take Root

To find out from whom I came, I must travel to Portugal. Ironically, the best records of Conversos are kept by Roman Catholic parishes. Records likely go back hundreds of years -- back to the start of the Inquisition (1497), or to the year the parish was founded, perhaps as far back as the beginning of the Millenium.

If you want a sense of how meticulous Lusos (people of Portuguese heritage) can be when it comes to documenting death and torture, watch the movie Brazil.

[Paradise by Lucas Cranach der Ältere, oil on wood, Wikicommons]

Complications Ensue...

Most of my family, myself included, don't have birth certificates. My only record of "coming into existence" is my baptismal record, or cedula (which doesn't have a picture). The cedula records birth, comfirmation, marriage, and other sacramental rights. The parish also kept records of "good behavior" & financial contributions. And course, records of heretics, and their "outcome."

But, until I can get grant money for travel, I must rely on Library & Web research; exploration of every clue, however far-fetched; lots of Imagination; and Conspiracy-Theory-type thinking.

Confirmation BIAS alert, ie, even though I want to believe my immediate ancestors' surnames are definitive clues, they are about as reliable as hearsay, however juicy my "facts" may be. Pre-Modern people made up & discarded surnames at will, and often village folk re-named their neighbors. Descriptive names might stick to a man, and remained glued, like it or not, to the next generation. Imagine a world where nicknames given by siblings, fraternity brothers, the town joker, and/or gossips have a half-life.

My maternal grandfather, Francisco Pinto, for example, loathed one of his paternal surnames: Alpiarca. It was the name of the village in central Portugal from where his grandfather migrated. When he was nine or so years of age, Francisco Pinto managed to officially eliminate the Alpiarca name from his line of descent. My people are precocious. He wasn't the only anti-Alpiarca campaigner; many kinsmen tried to wipe the name from history. Of course, that/those stories are for another post. And of course, the name survives (in Massachusetts, btw).

A man and/or woman could try to assert control over their destiny and/or re-create their heritage by adopting the name(s) of persons they aspired to be. Or take the socially-respected, Inquisition-Evading names of the local gentry. A powerful patron could be named as a child's godparent, and the godparent's name (and some privileges) would be given to the child.

A great source is Jeffrey S. Malka, author of Sephardic Genealogy: Second Edition, Discovering Your Sephardic Ancestors and Their World. [More commentary from Malka in future posts]

To briefly sum up: When forced to convert, Sephardic Portuguese chose new surnames that were "close to the earth."

Who, What & Where in the World are my Maternal Surnames?

My mother's natal village contained many wild plants/trees, as well as cultivated orchards & crops. "We had so many trees on the finca (estate)," said my grandmother, Maria do Rosario Bispo Carvalho (abridged name). "It was as if I lived in the Garden of Eden."

Commonly, when Jews were baptized, they re-created themselves by selecting names of trees, eg, Carvalho (Oak), Oliveira (Olive tree), Pereira (Pear tree), Pinheiro (Pine). Less common: fruit, eg, Sousa (type of Sherry grape near the Douro River); or animals, eg, Coelho (rabbit), as in Tony Coelho, former congressman, and Pinto (type of horse), which happens to be my grandfather's name.

Clinging to Eden: Converso Names Take Root

To find out who & where I come from, I absolutely must travel to Portugal. Ironically, the best records of Conversos are kept by Roman Catholic parishes. Records likely go back hundreds of years -- back to the start of the Inquisition (1497), or to the year the parish was founded, perhaps as far back as the beginning of the Millenium.

If you want a sense of how meticulous Lusos (people of Portuguese heritage) can be when it comes to documenting death and torture, watch the movie Brazil. Speaking of Death, I'll also need to examine cemetery stones in all towns where kin are known to be buried. Fortunately, I think cemeteries are kind of cool. Taratara, taratara, taratara... Btw, I reported for Court TV, and gallows humor is an occupational hazard.

[Paradise by Lucas Cranach der Ältere, oil on wood, Wikicommons]

Complications Ensue...

Most of my family, myself included, don't have birth certificates. My only record of "coming into existence" is my baptismal record, or cedula (which doesn't have a picture). The cedula records birth, confirmation, marriage, and other sacramental rites. The parish also kept records of "good behavior" & financial conributions. And course, records of heretics, and their "outcome."

But, until I can get grant money for travel, I must rely on Library & Web research; exploration of every clue, however far-fetched; lots of Imagination; and Conspiracy-Theory-type thinking.

Likely, I'll dedicate a wall in my apartment to creating the kind of Five Families chart & photo/evidence display you see in FBI movies, or in my favorite serial-killer series, DEXTER. Imagine: a massive map with green-circle push pins & flags. I'll post dork-wall-pics as I progress.

Confirmation BIAS alert: Even though I want to believe my immediate ancestors' surnames are definitive clues, they are about as reliable as hearsay, however juicy my "facts" may be. Pre-modern people made up & discarded surnames at will, and often village folk re-named their neighbors. Descriptive names might stick to a man, and remained glued, like it or not, to the next generation. Imagine a world where nicknames given by siblings, fraternity brothers, the town joker, and/or gossips outlive you and afflict the next few generations.

[RIGHT: Pinto Horse & my grandfather's namesake. Francisco Pinto was quite a horseman & served in the Portuguese Cavalry. Perhaps a name does bring on a Destiny: Wikicommons]


My maternal grandfather, Francisco Pinto, for example, loathed one of his paternal surnames: Alpiarca. It was the name of the village in central Portugal from where his grandfather migrated. When he was nine or so years of age, Francisco Pinto managed to officially eliminate the Alpiarca name from his line of descent. My people are precocious. He wasn't the only anti-Alpiarca campaigner; many kinsmen tried to wipe the name from history. Of course, that/those stories are for another post. And of course, the name survives (in Massachusetts, btw).

A man and/or woman could try to assert control over their destiny and/or re-create their heritage by adopting the name(s) of persons they aspired to be. Or take the socially-respected, Inquisition-Evading names of the local gentry. A powerful patron could be named as a child's godparent, and the godparent's name (and some privileges) would be given to the child.

A great source is Jeffrey S. Malka, author of Sephardic Genealogy: Second Edition, Discovering Your Sephardic Ancestors and Their World. [More commentary from Malka in future posts]

Why are Portuguese named after so many TREES??

To briefly sum up: When forced to convert, Sephardic Portuguese chose new surnames that were "close to the earth."

My mother's natal village contained many wild plants/trees, as well as cultivated orchards & crops. "We had so many trees on the fazenda (estate)," said my grandmother, Maria do Rosario Bispo Carvalho (abridged name). "It was as if I lived in the Garden of Eden."

Commonly, when Jews were baptized, they re-created themselves by selecting names of trees, eg, Carvalho (Oak), Oliveira (Olive tree), Pereira (Pear tree), Pinheiro (Pine). Less common: fruit, eg, Sousa (type of Sherry grape near the Douro River); or animals, eg, Coelho (rabbit), as in Tony Coelho, former congressman, and Pinto (type of horse), which happens to be my grandfather's name.