The theme of “Cousins” can go in many directions. I’ve already written about both well-known (Artistic) and lesser-known (Divergent Journeys) cousins and their connections. When you descend from colonial immigrants who arrived in the 1600s, you naturally end up with a large collection of notable (and sometimes notorious) relatives. Years ago, Ancestry put out an app called We’re Related, which used user-submitted trees to identify famous cousins. While many of those links were questionable, the app did provide leads. Thanks to that, I’ve explored possible connections to people as diverse as Abraham Lincoln and W.E.B. Du Bois. I also seem to share distant ties with numerous Puritan families, which makes being able to trace links to cousins like Nathan Hale, Grover Cleveland, or either President Bush surprisingly common.
But instead of diving into a celebrity cousin rabbit hole, I decided to explore a different—and perhaps more interesting—angle. You may remember my 8th- or 9th-great-grandmother, Susannah Shattuck, and the couple Edward Fay and Sarah Joslin, who not only had memorably-named children but were themselves second cousins once removed. That cousin connection was taken one step further a couple of generations later.
My 4th-great-grandfather, Samuel Day Jr., was born in 1772 in Connecticut. He was the grandson of Edward and Sarah (Joslin) Fay. In 1793, he married his first cousin, Elizabeth Munger, who was also their grandchild. The couple soon moved to the new state of Vermont, the fourteenth in the newly formed United States.
Today, first cousin marriage seems surprising or even taboo, but in early America it wasn’t prohibited, and in rural communities it was relatively common. It wasn’t until the mid-19th century that the practice was seriously questioned, and much later still before genetics helped explain the associated risks. Even then, people seemed to recognize that marrying close kin could lead to undesirable traits, though they lacked the scientific framework.
Samuel and Elizabeth’s life in Vermont was difficult. Samuel worked by cutting and burning trees to make potash. But by 1809, financial trouble overtook them. Samuel was unable to repay a debt, and the sheriff seized and sold his land, home, and possessions. By then, the couple had eight children, the oldest just 14, and the youngest under a year.
To make matters worse, that same year the family was "warned" out of town. Under Vermont law, towns were responsible for their indigent residents—unless those residents were transients or posed a financial risk. Despite having lived in Jericho for 14 years and owning property, Samuel’s misfortunes and large family apparently led the town’s selectmen to deem them a burden. Being warned out didn’t require them to leave, but it did mean they could no longer count on public support if they needed help.
FamilySearch shows that their last son may have been born in Vermont in 1811, so the family may have remained for a short while longer. But by early 1812, they had relocated to Madison County, New York, where Elizabeth died, leaving Samuel with little money and a household of children.
Samuel did marry again but this time not to a cousin. At age 40, he wed Hannah Robbins, who was just 20. Together, they had 11 more children, including Hannah Robbins Day, who married John Jay Fast, who became a prosperous farmer and the patriarch of the Missouri Fast family.
Samuel died in 1839, and Hannah followed in 1845. Samuel’s life spanned from the American Revolution to the early years of the Republic. Like many New Englanders, he migrated within New England, then to New York, and finally to Huron County, Ohio. He wasn’t alone in this path—his father-in-law, Ephraim Munger, and other Munger family members likely made the same journey. Samuel, who acquired the title “Dr.” somewhere along the way, is buried in Day Cemetery in Huron County, Ohio, along with Hannah and many other Days.
Though his Vermont community warned him out, Samuel wasn’t truly alone. His extended family and faith in kinship likely helped him weather hard times. These families built communities wherever they went. While the history books may spotlight the “great men (and women)”—some of whom may be our cousins—it was ordinary people like Samuel and Elizabeth, struggling, moving, adapting, and building, who truly laid the foundations of this country.
Note: The author is indebted to Mary Richmond, who wrote a series of stories posted on RootsWeb that described what was known about the Day, and associated, families.
Photo: First Vermont Flag
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