Life in Early Perth

Bell often despaired of the moral state of most of the residents of the Perth Military Settlement. A rigid Calvanist who fought tirelessly against drink and excess of all kinds, he declared that his "principal obstacle was found in the haughtiness, pride, vanity, and dissipation of the half-pay officers and their ladies. They minded nothing but dress, visiting and amusement." The military and half-pay officers and magistrates, who made up one-fifth of the population, gravitated to a social world of their own, "ranting round in pleasure’s ring," and to religion "blinded."

Bell also had no use for hypocrisy, which abounded in the rigid class structure of early Perth society.

"One day, as I was returning from the country, I observed a half-pay officer and his lady digging potatoes and pitting them. There was nothing improper in this. Industry is commendable . . . but consistency is no less commendable. This same lady on Sunday is dressed in silk, puts on a great many airs, carries a parasol and seems to intimate by her conduct that farmers and their wives are quite beneath her notice."

Bell often frowned at the high spirits enjoyed by the officer class, usually indulged at the expense of the church. The officers wanted its privileges, he claimed, but did not want to submit to the discipline nor attend to the duties of religion.

Bell often despaired of the moral state of most of the residents of the Perth Military Settlement. A rigid Calvanist who fought tirelessly against drink and excess of all kinds, he declared that his “principal obstacle was found in the haughtiness, pride, vanity, and dissipation of the half-pay officers and their ladies. They minded nothing but dress, visiting and amusement.” The military and half-pay officers and magistrates, who made up one-fifth of the population, gravitated to a social world of their own, “ranting round in pleasure’s ring,” and to religion “blinded.”

Bell also had no use for hypocrisy, which abounded in the rigid class structure of early Perth society.

“One day, as I was returning from the country, I observed a half-pay officer and his lady digging potatoes and pitting them. There was nothing improper in this. Industry is commendable . . . but consistency is no less commendable. This same lady on Sunday is dressed in silk, puts on a great many airs, carries a parasol and seems to intimate by her conduct that farmers and their wives are quite beneath her notice.”

Bell often frowned at the high spirits enjoyed by the officer class, usually indulged at the expense of the church. The officers wanted its privileges, he claimed, but did not want to submit to the discipline nor attend to the duties of religion.

“A great number of sleighs, filled with company drove about the streets in a shameful manner. At one time, 18 of these carriages might be seen . . . providing noise and setting an example very annoying to the peaceable and orderly part of the inhabitants. Amongst them was the carriage of Mr Morris, our MP, as well as that of the Sheriff and several of our magistrates. When the very men whose duty it was to suppress these disorders set the example, what could we expect from others.”

Only a couple of horses existed in the entire district for the first few years of the Perth Military Settlement, oxen proving more practical, but once people became more established, horses became a source of industry and pleasure. Horse racing, in particular, proved very popular, especially amongst the officer class.

The first horse race in Perth was held in June 1823. Drivers assembled at the corner of Drummond and Harvey Streets, and raced to the end of Drummond. In 1829, the Bench of Magistrates, at the recommendation of the Grand Jury, made horse racing illegal. But, on the first day of the semi-annual fair, racing was held as usual, and the magistrates were first in line with their bets.

These notices, from two of Perth’s leading citizens, appeared in the April 22, 1830, issue of the Bathurst Courier:

A CHALLENGE!!!

I will run my Horse, Sir William Walter, for Fifty Pounds, against any horse, mare or gelding now owned in the Districts of Bathurst and Johnstown, on the nearest course to this place—three mile heats, and to carry weight for age.

J.A.H. Powell

A CHALLENGE!!!

I will run my Horse, Prospect, against J.A.H. Powell’s Horse, William Walter, from 1 to 3 miles—best of heats, any where in the vicinity of Perth and for any sum from 100 to $500.

W. Matheson

While Bell’s frequent sniffs over the apparent carefree attitude enjoyed by the settlement’s inhabitants may seem small minded, his crusade against the evils of drink had a firm foundation. Not only did one of his sons suffer an early death due to alcoholism, but liquor proved a favoured and easily accessible commodity to many in the community. By 1821, Perth had, at most, 100 houses, but there were enough patrons in the district to support five taverns and three distilleries. Death by apoplexy soon became a euphemism for death by drink.

“To a distillery, a farmer had only to carry his grain and receive its value in spirits or beer. A poor thoughtless Canadian one day in a state of intoxication went into Mr. W’s boiling house, sent for a quart of liquor and drank with the workmen. He then offered for a small wager to take his hands full of the melted potash (red hot now). He did so. His hands were instantly burned to a cinder. Then I saw his wife taking him to the doctor, and later he was begging from door to door showing the skeletons of his hands.”

Others, too, commented on the dangers of drink, especially the nature of the liquor: “potato whisky . . . is the absolute poison of Upper Canada—the laudanum that sends thousands of settlers to their eternal rest every season . . . a distillation made of frosty potatoes, hemlock, pumpkins, and black mouldy rye. No hell broth that the witches concocted of yore can equal it.” [John McTaggart, Three Years in Canada, Vol. 1, London, 1829]

While Bell saw no way of curing the town’s drunkenness other than through religion—he refused to admit “drunkards, swearers, Sabbath breakers,” nor “neglectors of religious duties” to his church, of which Perth seemed to have plenty, in his opinion—he had a practical streak and, in 1832, was instrumental in forming the Temperance Society. It quickly filled a need. By 1835, membership had increased from 34 to 402 and, by 1836, it included six auxiliary branches with more than 600 members.

But despite these social problems, the people of early Perth could, perhaps, be described as more outgoing than today—or at least not afraid to wear their hearts, and passions, on their sleeves. Especially during elections.

Elections in Upper Canada during the first half of the nineteenth century were a six-day public wrestling match fuelled with high spirits and hard bargains. They brought together all the hopes, desires, ambitions, and energy of a community and entrusted them in one or two men who would convey them to the legislature in York, later Toronto. Although unruly and, perhaps undemocratic, at least to twenty-first century eyes, for many voters, this was the first time they had ever held a franchise. Land ownership—one of the prerequisites to voting—had not been possible in Britain. Therefore, this truly was an occasion to dance in the streets.

In the 1836 general election, Malcolm Cameron, founder of the Bathurst Courier, the forerunner of today’s Perth Courier, carried the day with 559 votes. He defeated Sheriff John Powell (552), Dr Alexander Thom (515), and lawyer Thomas Radenhurst (384). During the election, supporters of all four candidates served out liquor to all who wished it, and posted caricatures and placards on walls throughout the town each morning “to the great amusement of those not concerned.”

Donald Fraser, a one-time member for the district, asked Reverend Bell for a very large thistle in his garden for the chairing of Cameron at the head of a parade through the streets where his supporters would sing patriotic songs and let out enthusiastic, if not always sober, huzzas: “He held it upright, dressed out with roses and shamrock; while Mr Radenhurst held a cross of St Andrew dressed in a similar way. Mr Powell’s party did not choose to have the object of their choice chaired along with a damned radical, as they called Mr Cameron. So they very wisely went in different directions, to prevent their parties in collision. However, Powell’s party, considering that they were Orangemen, behaved better than could have been expected. They made a horrible noise, but did very little mischief. They were civil enough to stop at our house, and that of Mr Cameron’s other friends, and give three cheers each.”

Understandably, things occasionally did get out hand. After dark, Smidt, a poor Dutchman who had supported Cameron, was stabbed and nearly killed by one Stone, an Orangemen, without the smallest provocation.

Violence in early Perth, however, proved the exception rather than the rule. In 1826, Anthony Wiseman was appointed high constable for Perth, but his duties consisted mostly of perambulating around the streets and announcing events. At specific locations, he would stop, ring his bell and make proclamations to the gathered crowd. He also sold hot mutton pies, ginger beer and other delicacies. The Thomas Easby Murders of 1828 and the Wilson-Lyon Duel of 1833 were as shocking then as they are now.

Life for Perth’s first residents was incredible hard and Bell comments often on the conditions in which these new immigrants lived. “A large fire had been made to make (the shanty) warm. This melted the snow on the roof and the bark with which it was covered not being watertight (a scoop roof) the water was dripping down in all directions. Between the logs . . . there were numerous openings which freely admitted the cold wind. But our worst enemy was the smoke, which positively refused to ascend the chimney and, spreading through the mansion, subjected our eyes to very painful sensations, and made them shed tears in abundance. The gas arising from the ignited greenwood is always painful to the eyes.”

And many suffered the most incredible misfortunes. According to Colonial Office Records, one Lanark family lost their sons by death the first year, and home and newly purchased cattle by fire the second year. Yet, they asserted that nowhere in the world could a poor family live so happily as in Canada. By 1827, they were “living in plenty.” They had heavily laden tables, houses packed with “Indian corn, pease, wheat & oats . . . several hams resting in nooks.” They were better dressed than tradesmen in Scotland. “Aften when I am feeding the dogs an’ cats wi’ meat that I hae had for ourselves, the tears are like to rin oure my cheeks for the poor starving folk at home!”

Canada offered them hope for the future, something that had been beyond their realm of understanding in nineteenth century Scotland.

These, then, are the people who laid the foundation for the Perth of today. While many have gone unnamed, their spirit lives in the town’s gracious setting, prosperous economy, and caring manner. Their exuberance and aspirations have always exceeded, by far, the physical size of the town making it a community that tugs at the hearts of all who pass through.

Susan Code (McDougall), a resident of neighbouring Tay Valley Township, is the author of ‘A Matter of Honour and Other Tales of Early Perth’ (General Store Publishing House) and other area histories.