The
following is an excerpt from an account of Christmas at Fort Edmonton
in the late 1850s by Peter Erasmus. The account, is contained in the
book Christmas in the West, by Hugh A. Dempsey (Prairie Books, 1982).
- - -
Born
in Red River, Peter Erasmus studied for the ministry but gave it up in
1856 when he was attracted to the freedom and adventures of the
prairies. Traveling west to Fort Pitt, he was engaged as interpreter by
Methodist missionary Thomas Woolsey and accompanied him to Edmonton
later in the year. Shortly after he arrived at the fort, the Christmas
festivities began.
- - -
The factor assigned me a room
with one of his workmen, William Borwick, a man of approximately my own
age but who had been in service with the Company for several years,
mostly at Edmonton. We were approaching the Christmas holidays and there
was a growing excitement noticeable among the inmates of the fort. Bill
and others spent their spare time making ready their best clothes. The
preparations the week before Christmas took on a new tempo of activity.
Every dog driver and team was rushing supplies of fish to the fort for
the dog trains of the expected visitors. The factor engaged two of the
Indians who had buffalo-running horses to go with me after fresh meat,
with orders to bring nothing but the best. We returned in four days with
our pack horses loaded with two fine cows.
It was the custom of
Hudson's Bay officials to meet at Fort Edmonton during Christmas week,
staying for New Year's Day. They discussed business concerned with the
trade, and prepared their orders for the following year. The conference
had developed into a week of social activities commemorating the
Christmas period.
Fort Pitt, Slave Lake, Chipewyan, Fort
Assiniboine, Jasper House, Rocky Mountain House, and Lac La Biche were
all represented. The two days before Christmas was a bedlam of noise as
each new dog team arrived. ...
On Christmas Eve, Father Lacombe
drove in to conduct Midnight Mass. I was somewhat surprised that the
priest and my employer were on such friendly and cordial terms. Woolsey
went out to meet him and immediately invited him to his room, where they
spent several hours of congenial conversation. Of course I was on hand
to take care of his dogs, as the man drove his own team.
Knowing
the Rev. Woolsey's strong views against dancing, I was reluctant to ask
permission to attend the celebrations, but I was burning to go. It was
getting late when the priest finally departed for his duties with
Catholic members of his church, and I finally screwed up enough courage
to face the man.
Mr. Woolsey was seated reading his Bible when I
entered his small room. I was in such a hurry to have his verdict that I
had prepared no opening speech, although he looked slightly surprised
at my late visit. He asked me to be seated, then as if reading my mind
or perhaps noticing my flustered condition, said, "So, you are fond of
dancing."
It was my turn to look surprised as I answered too
quickly in a tone of voice much too loud for that small room, "Yes I am,
and that is what I came to see you about. I want your permission to
attend."
Slightly smiling, he answered, "I surmised as much from
this late visit. I have given the matter some thought, for you know my
principles over dancing. However, you're a young man and need some
recreation; your own conscience must be your guide. I have no
objections, provided you conduct yourself as a gentleman. Drinking will
be quite conspicuous in tomorrow's festivities and, as my associate, I
will not permit your indulgence in this miserable business."
"I
can promise you that I'll do no drinking whatever as I've cultivated no
taste for liquor. You have my promise on both counts."
"Thank you, I accept both promises," and in an amused tone he added, "I hope you don't find them too heavy an obligation."
Wishing
him the Season's Greetings, I bade him goodnight. Delighted with the
interview I ran back to our room to tell Bill the happy news. I was
greatly relieved. Had he refused, I would have been in a difficult
position. Bill was still up awaiting my return and I asked him what
would be the order of the day.
'Well, many will be quite jolly as
it is the custom for each of the employees to receive a ration of rum
the day before Christmas, but by a rule of the Company no-one is to
touch it before the next day. There will also be a dance at night; most
of the women will come from the two settlements, Lac Ste. Anne and St.
Albert. Let me assure you that some of the best-looking women in the
West, and for that matter anywhere else, will be at that dance tomorrow
night."
Then I told him of the wonderful news of receiving
Woolsey's permission to attend. I danced a few steps for his benefit. Of
course I did not tell him about the promise to abstain from drinking. I
wanted all the credit to myself about being a gentleman. That always
comes natural to a sober man for I have noticed that some of the most
polished gentlemen lose some of their colour under the influence of
drink.
It was some time before I was able to get to sleep, then
suddenly it was morning. I was aroused from a deep sleep by a tremendous
bloodcurdling noise that actually seemed to vibrate the room. For a
moment I was shocked motionless, then the notes of music sounded into my
senses. I was out of bed and scrambled for my clothes. Bill was already
half dressed.
John Graham, a Scottish employee, burst into the
room, almost incoherent with excitement and fairly dancing in his joy.
Finally he shouted at the top of his voice, "The Pibroch! The Pibroch!"
Tears coursed down his cheeks as he motioned for Bill and me to come. We
dressed in seconds that morning and followed him out as he turned and
dashed for the door.
Striding back and forth on the walk that
surrounded three sides of the factor's three-storeyed building was a man
by the name of Colin Fraser playing a set of bagpipes. The long droning
notes that precede the actual music were what awakened me so suddenly.
He made a striking figure, dressed in all the gay regalia of tartan and
kilt, his knees exposed to the elements. He seemed quite indifferent to
the weather that was at least 30 degrees below zero. The deep notes of
his instrument echoed back from the high hills of the ice-covered
Saskatchewan River. It was beautiful even to my unfamiliar ear; never
till then had I heard the bagpipes played.
I turned to watch to
face of our old friend (Graham) and felt some of the deep loneliness
that marked the features of this old man, whose life ambition had been
to return to his native land; he now realized he was too late ever to
attain it. He stood with his hand on Borwick's shoulder; unashamed tears
flowed down his cheeks. That night, Bill and I carried him to his room,
too inebriated to manage his, own way.
Shortly after breakfast a horn was sounded, a sign that the factor was ready to receive the salutations of the men at the fort.
I
accompanied Borwick in this customary courtesy. After greeting each man
in turn the chief clerk, who stood at the factor's elbow for this
purpose, handed each man a drink of rum. I watched Bill out of the
corner of my eyes as I took my turn to shake hands and offer the factor
the happy returns of the day. When I refused my offer of a drink, I
could see consternation and anger on Bill's face. We were scarcely out
of the room when he gave me a sound going over for refusing the drink.
"Look
here, Peter! You have been guilty of a grave discourtesy in refusing a
drink. This has been the custom of the Company since the memory of the
oldest man in the service."
"My dear sir, I'm not an employee of
your grand Company; my first duty is to my employer. The matter of the
minister's man refusing a drink of rum will, I hope, not create a
revolution in the service. Perhaps you'd better interview Mr. Woolsey
before the situation gets too serious."
He gave me a disgusted look but said no more. ...
Christmas
day was spent in visiting among those gathered at the fort. Woolsey
held a service in English which everybody attended, regardless of
affiliation. I was not called up to interpret, but sat with his
audience.
I had heard stories of unrestricted convivial times at
these Christmas gatherings, but there was no evidence of excess that
day, other than our friend Graham who appeared to be under no obligation
to share his portion with any other of the workmen. ...
The
dance that night I thought upheld Bill's claims; in fact he had slightly
underrated it. Borwick, being an old-timer in the area, seemed to know
every person there and soon made me acquainted with a number of his
friends. ...
Colours in clothes were quite in evidence, but
nothing so startling as in later years. The Hudson's Bay stores at that
time were more conservative in their choices of colours and they were
the only source of supply. Therefore dress in those days gave more
attention to utility than fashion. Neatness of apparel was of primary
importance and the winsome maids of the prairie were quite as adept at
adjusting the means at hand as their sisters a quarter of a century
later.
A big lunch was served at midnight in the homes of the
married couples, where the guests had previously left their
contributions of food at the homes of their friends and acquaintances.
Young bachelor residents of the post were pressed into service as chore
boys, regardless of their wishes in the matter. I presumed that usage
had established a precedent; at any rate I found that single men were
mere appendages of the wives' organization for entertaining their
guests; we were errand boys. ...
At last the guests were all
served and started drifting back to the dance floor. Most of the crowd
had taken their food standing up around the tables. Not us; we were
seated at a table with our hostess and the husband who from some hidden
secret place brought out a sadly depleted bottle. Bill's malicious grin
and wink was a determining factor in stiffening my weakened resistance.
Three
attractive young ladies kept us supplied with food and talk; I refused
the drink, but needed no second invitation to start on the food. Under
these circumstances I regained my good humour and for revenge on Bill,
entered into a gay conversation with our attentive and pretty
waitresses. Bill's devotion to the bottle left him badly handicapped in
that competition.
There was very little rest for the musicians
between dances, and there were plenty of fiddlers among the French Metis
people from Lac Ste. Anne. Having too good a time dancing I did not
offer my services that night, but later on I happened to mention to Bill
that I liked playing the fiddle, and thereafter on Borwick's insistence
I had to do my share.
The settlement guests all left for their
homes at broad daylight. After dancing all night they had to run behind
dogs for another 40 miles before they would have any rest or sleep. The
men were tough athletes to stand a grind like that and I did not envy
their trip under those conditions.
The more serious business of
the post leaders was of course not neglected for any of the social
events at the fort or at the settlements. The conference was brought to a
final grand finish with New Year's Day sports. There were foot races,
toboggan slides on the North Saskatchewan River hill, some competitions
for the women, and the big dog-train race of three miles on the river.
Every team from each post competed in this race. Each factor contributed
a share to this prize; the winner took all, which was a choice of any
clothes in stock to the amount of approximately $25.
The employed
dog drivers for the Company at Edmonton asked the factor if they could
allow me to drive one of their two dog teams. He consented, provided the
other leaders agreed. They readily consented as they considered me poor
competition against their own hardened and skilful drivers.
Bill
heard about the arrangement and came to me with the intention of
talking me out of it. "Man, you haven't a chance in the world against
these men from Jasper House and Athabasca; 50 miles a day is a regular
run for them. They would be ashamed if they were caught riding. They are
tough, strong young men. Heck, man! That's all they know, just running
behind dogs all winter."
"Bill, I'm going to beat every last one
of them; I'll tell you how I aim to do it. Every driver has been idle,
eating and drinking to the limit of his capacity all week. Their dogs
are the same, and will be in no fit condition for a short fast race like
this will be. Our dogs are in work shape. The team I drive has made a
trip to Lac Ste. Anne this week; they are not overfed and they are
rested enough to be keen in tomorrow's run. Bet your shirt, Bill; if you
lose, I'll give you one of mine. Besides, I don't drink and that's my
biggest lead over all the others." ...
The starting point was
marked by stakes frozen in the ice far enough apart to accommodate the
seven teams at the line. One mile and a half downriver was another set
of stakes, three in number around which we must drive before returning
to the starting line. Failure to pass around the far stake would
disqualify any driver. There were judges at this end and watchers at the
other to make sure the drivers complied with the rules. No man was
allowed to foul up another driver or cut in unless he had a clear lead
to the trail that would be well marked on our trip downriver.
We
were off! Bill was my helper at the post. I had given him instructions
to hold the dogs back until at least half of the others had started.
They would be ploughing snow on an untravelled track. Bill, disgusted at
that foolish way of starting, nevertheless obeyed. There were four
teams in the lead, all abreast for the first two hundred yards or so.
The Jasper man had the same idea as I had; he was holding his dogs to
the track already made by the other four toboggans. ...
What none
of the other drivers knew about was a stretch of overflow ice on the
last half mile of the course downriver where I hoped to pass the others
without plowing deep snow. Pierre, our Edmonton driver, was now in
second place behind the Fort Pitt man. We were all closely bunched when
we made the turn but I got ahead of the fourth team as his dogs cut
short instead of rounding the marker posts, and he had to turn his dogs.
I was now in third place, the Jasper man directly behind me.
When
I came opposite the overflow ice, I struck into the deep snow as if to
pass the team ahead; he started to follow me but seeing the depth of
snow turned back. The minute I reached the thin snow on the overflow
ice, I cracked the whip over the dogs' backs and yelled. They almost
threw me off the sleigh with their increased speed, as I had climbed on
the sleigh to give it weight.
Now ahead of all the others, I
allowed myself plenty of room before cutting back to the track. I had
the race if I could stand the pace that I was being forced to travel to
hold my lead. I had a brief breather while riding the overflow but
jumped off when I came to the now well-marked trail.
The Fort
Pitt man was close up behind me and I knew I had to outdistance him
before we reached the last quarter mile, because then he would also have
a broken trail to follow. Now for the second time since starting I
cracked my whip over the dogs, yelling for more speed, not hitting them
but my voice and whip urging more speed. ...
We were only a
hundred yards or so from the starting posts when a side glance showed
the Fort Pitt man gaining beside me, his lead dog almost opposite my
toboggan front. Only the short distance would save the race for me as I
had the limit of speed out of my dogs. I hit the finish line with only a
two dog advantage over my opponent.
Bill was like a crazy man,
shouting and yelling his triumph for my win, but I found out later his
delight was for himself as he had won a new shirt and pants by betting
on my team to win. He even forgot to congratulate me as all the others
did as soon as I could get my breath to acknowledge my thanks. ...
At
daylight the next morning the far-distant post managers had pulled out
for another long year of isolated wilderness where their duties held
little of entertainment and no social life whatever, until the following
gathering a year hence at Edmonton.
No wonder the Chief Factor had put so much effort and attention for their comfort and entertainment while they were in Edmonton.
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
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