I have been working on the Selgrad family line in southwestern Germany for several weeks nonstop. They lived in the town of Sankt Ingbert, which is close to Saarbrucken and part of Saarland. Back the days of the records I have been studying, the town had been taken over by the French under Napoleon Bonaparte.
Civil records started having to be kept in French, but I’m still decoding the Latin church record books. Happily for me, the microfilmed images are available online, but they aren’t translated nor indexed. My challenge is to find all the Selgrads (and Schmelzers, whom they married) and translate their records so I can assemble them into family groups and eventually figure out how they are interrelated.
In the year of the Lord one thousand eight hundred first on the twenty first day of September was born and the following day was baptised, Maria Johannetha . . . |
I had to take a year of Latin as part of my graduate school studies. I was very busy that year, working to support myself and pay for my schooling, as well as studying and writing like mad. I gave my Latin classes the bare minimum attention in order to pass, but I didn’t do well. So now I’m looking up word lists and using Google Translate and studying various online dictionaries and taking online classes in genealogy-specific Latin. I’m finding out that it’s hard when the clerk doesn’t spell things the way the dictionaries and Google Translate think is correct. It’s hard when the clerk doesn’t seem to use the inflected endings I expect from my studying. I am sure my studying is more than partly to blame, but I’m working harder at it now!
The occupations have caught my fancy and I am more than curious to know what these people did for a living. I am, in fact, determined to know.
agricola - that’s easy, that’s a farmer.
pistoris - that’s the baker
molinarius - the miller, and of course the baker chooses him to be godfather to his child
mercatoris - merchant, of whom there would have to be some
tutoris - that’s a tutor, but the way it’s written I wonder if it was really sutoris, a cobbler?
textoris - weaver, which is further broken down into linen or wool
sartoris - the tailor, upon whom the weaver depends for sales, obviously
calcearii - a shoemaker, maybe of a different flavor from the sutoris?
fabri - a carpenter or maybe a smith; the term can also be combined as a workman or artisan in something
fabro ferreo - this looks like iron maker, and indeed, a number of the records show men “de oficina ferrea” or workers in an iron making factory, likely using the puddling method developed in 1784 to lower the carbon content of cast iron or “pig iron” and turn it to the less-brittle wrought iron.
mercenarii - of the day laborers, of which there were quite a few
operarii - workers for hire, like the day laborers
fabri carbonum - of the charcoal makers; this region was rich in iron and coal ore
vinarii - of the vintners
clavi fabrii - of the makers of nails or spikes (but Google Translate insisted on “vinegar makers”)
There’s a lot of difference between someone who hammered metal into a square-and-tapered shape and someone who poured alcohol into a vat and let it sit for months to make vinegar. At least, I hope so.
Meanwhile, what have those folks programming Google Translate been drinking? Too much sour wine?
Having wrestled a few times with Google Translate reading Spanish texts, I'm in total agreement that the app is less than accurate in many contexts, especially when it applies to older documents and literature with the equivalent English words just not available to inform the proper translation.
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