Some Reminiscences of old Victoria

CHAPTER XVI.

PIONEER SOCIETY’S BANQUET

Some Reminiscences.

On the 28th April, 1871, or forty-one years ago, a meeting was held in Smith’s Hall, which was situated in the building now occupied by Hall and Gospel on Government Street. The meeting was called to organize a society of the pioneers of British Columbia, and especially of Victoria. Among those present, and one who took a prominent part in its work, was William P. Sayward. By the death of this pioneer I am the sole remaining member of those who founded the society. By Mr. Sayward’s death this city and province loses a man whom any city would be proud of. Knowing him as I had from boyhood, I can speak feelingly. He was one of the kindest-hearted men, a man who had no enemies that I ever heard of, but hosts of friends. Who ever went to him for charity and was refused? Who ever asked forgiveness of a debt and was repulsed? Although he was victimized many times, in his case virtue was its own reward. From small beginnings, when the lumber business was first started on Humboldt Street, on the shores of James Bay, to the present time, the Sayward business has gone on prospering, having been built on a firm foundation by a kindly and honest man, who in February, 1905, passed from our sight to a better life. The society elected as its first officers the following: President, John Dickson; vice-president, Jules Rueff; treasurer, E. Grancini; secretary, Edgar Fawcett; directors, W. P. Sayward, H. E. Wilby, Alexander Young, and Sosthenes Driard. Long may the society continue. Mr. Sayward’s son, Joseph, has since his father’s death disposed of the business, of which he became the owner, to a large corporation, and has retired from business, one of our wealthy men.

Nothing better illustrates what I feel to-day, as the last of the charter members who met together at Smith’s Hall, on Government Street, over Hall & Gospel’s office, on the 28th April, 1871, than the following lines from my favorite poet, Thomas Moore:

I have applied this to my visit to Smith’s Hall, of which I shall tell you. Since the death of my old friend, William P. Sayward, some months ago, I have reflected often on the fact that I was the last of that little band. The other night I woke up, and remained awake for some time; and my thoughts wandered to pioneer days, and from that to the gathering of pioneers this year, which, I understood, was to be a more extended gathering than usual. I thought I should like to be there for the sake of old times, but could not make up my mind to brave the disagreeable weather at this time of year.

After considering the matter, I decided to write, if I did not go; and, further, I decided to pay a visit to Smith’s Hall first. So next morning I called on Mr. Kinsman, who kindly showed me upstairs, and over the old place. I might well say, "the old place," for it looked old and deserted, like the banquet hall spoken of by Moore.

With my mind’s eye I pictured the scene of thirty-five years ago – I was at the hall early, being enthusiastic on the subject, and noted each well-known face as the guests came up the stairs and took their seats, until about forty had collected.

There was Thomas Harris, who had been the first mayor of the city. He was very stout, and complained of the exertion in climbing up the stairs, which was passed off as a joke, of course.

There was Major McDonell, a retired army officer; Robert H. Austen, a pioneer of San Francisco, whose uncle, Judge Austen (an early resident), had been a prominent member of the "vigilance committee" of San Francisco in the early fifties, when men were tried by that committee, condemned to death, and hanged, as I myself was a witness to on two occasions.

There was William P. Sayward, the father of Joseph Sayward, and one of the best men Victoria ever produced; Patrick McTiernan, a well-known business man; Captain Gardner, one of Victoria’s pilots; Henry E. Wilby, father of the Messrs. Wilby of Douglas Street, who was Portuguese Consul, and a resident of Esquimalt; Jules Rueff and E. Grancini, both Wharf Street merchants; Andrew C. Elliott, a barrister, and afterwards premier of the province; Honore Passerard, a Frenchman and property holder of Johnson Street; Robert Ridley, who claimed he was the original "Old Bob Ridley" who crossed the plains to San Francisco in ’49; Felix Leslonis, the Hudson’s Bay Company’s cooper, who was a Frenchman, and used to sing a song called "Beau Nicolas" at charity concerts, and usually brought down the house.

There was S. Driard, another Frenchman, and proprietor of the Driard House, and who being, like Mayor Harris, very corpulent and asthmatic, complained, like him, of the "upper room"; James Wilcox, the proprietor of Royal Hotel, now proved to have been the "second" brick hotel built in Victoria; William Spence, a contractor, and after whom Spence’s Rock was named; John Dickson, the tinsmith and hardware man of Yates Street – a quiet, goodhearted man, an American; James Lowe, a Wharf Street merchant, of Lowe Bros.; Frank Campbell, of "Campbell’s Corner" – genial, goodhearted Frank, a man without an enemy; Thomas L. Stahlschmidt, of Henderson & Burnaby, Wharf Street merchants, and father of Mr. Stahlschmidt, of R. Ward & Co.

There were Robert Burnaby, already mentioned; J. B. Timmerman, accountant and real estate agent, a Frenchman; Benjamin P. Griffin, mine host of the Boomerang, who had been a friend of my father’s in Sydney, Australia, and was accountant in a bank there; and lastly, your humble servant, who was secretary of the meeting. There were others present, but they did not see fit to become members, among them being Ben Griffin.

As I said before, they passed in review before me as I stood there thinking; and to-day I think no one lives to tell the tale of that gathering.

I am fully in accord with the suggestion that there be a reunion of all pioneers of early Victoria; but I think it should be in the summer, when as many as possible could be there, and it might be made very interesting by a recital of the personal recollections of those present. I should like to hear Mr. Higgins, for I am sure he has not yet told all he knows of the early history of Victoria.

CHAPTER XVII.

VICTORIA DISTRICT CHURCH

I read with a great deal of pleasure the article on Christ Church by Canon Beanlands. These reminiscences of former days in Victoria have a charm for me that is not easy to describe. More particularly is this the case in the present instance, as my very earliest recollections of this fair city are connected with Victoria District Church. My mother was a devout church woman, and I attended her in her frequent and regular attendance. She encouraged me to join the choir as a boy in 1861 and taught me music, and my first position in the church in connection with its musical services was as organ blower. I afterwards took my seat with the adults, singing treble, then alto and tenor, and I have now the treble score of several anthems copied by myself at that time.

I shall now describe the church as I remember it in 1859 and 1862. The inside was an oblong square. The entrance was at the south-west corner, and there was a gallery across the west end, where the old organ and the choir were then situated. Under this gallery were pews, one of which was occupied by our family. The vestry was at the south-west corner, and had entrance from under the gallery as well as from outside. The inside of the building was lathed and plastered. There was a low tower at the south-west corner, dovecote shaped, where the pigeons made their nests and brought forth their young. There were two bells in the tower, one larger than the other, which when rung sounded ding-dong, ding-dong three times a day, morning, afternoon and evening of Sunday, and also Wednesday evenings. A plan shows a square contrivance opposite the entrance. This was Governor Douglas’ pew, and was occupied by the Governor and his family regularly each Sunday morning. He walked down the aisle in his uniform in the most dignified manner, and led the congregation in the responses in an audible voice. By the plan an organ and choir are shown in the gallery as well as one in the chancel, but the dates 1859 and 1862 explain that in 1862 there was a new organ, and the old one removed, and the gallery done away with. It was in this gallery my services commenced as organ blower, and the only one I can now remember as singing in the choir at that early date was John Butts, a young man lately from Australia. He had a nice tenor voice, and was very regular in attendance for some time, until he fell from grace. He was the town crier afterwards and a noted character. Mr. Higgins speaks of him in the "Mystic Spring."

One Sunday morning in 1862 or 1863, while Bishop Hills was preaching, a man walked into the church and cried out, "My Lord, the church is on fire!" Judge Pemberton, one of the officers of the church, with others got on to the ceiling through a manhole above the gallery, and walked on the rafters to where the fire was located. He missed his footing and came through the lath and plaster, but luckily did not fall to the floor below, but, like Mahomet’s coffin, hung suspended by his arms until rescued from above. The congregation were soon outside, and with willing help the fire was soon extinguished. The church was built and opened in August, 1856, under the supervision of Mr. William Leigh, who was in charge of Uplands Farm, Cadboro Bay, and was in the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company. Mr. Leigh was a man of very good attainments, being a good musician and contributing to the various entertainments of those days, when regular entertainments by professionals were few and far between. He subsequently was City Clerk, being the second to hold that position, after Mr. Nathaniel M. Hicks, who was appointed clerk on the city being incorporated. Mr. Hicks is buried in Quadra Street Cemetery, and his headstone is in evidence to-day as a mute appeal to our city fathers to put the place in order. I might say that Mr. Leigh was the father of a numerous family, but I believe, with the exception of a son, Ernest, who resides in San Francisco, and a granddaughter, Mrs. George Simpson, who resides here, all have passed away.

Victoria District church was destroyed by fire in 1869, one evening about 10 o’clock, the alarm being given by a Catholic priest on his way home, who with Mr. James Kennedy (who lived with me), was passing over the hill. Of the early pioneer clergy connected with the church, Mr. Cridge, the incumbent, was first; then Bishop Hills; the Rev. R. J. Dundas, afterward rector of St. John’s; Rev. Alexander C. Garrett, now Bishop of Dallas, Texas, and Rev. George Crickmer, who subsequently was sent to Langley or Yale.

The organ used up to 1861 or 1862 was situated in the gallery, and had three barrels, each of ten tunes, so that thirty tunes was the limit. Mr. Seeley, who owned the Australian House, which stood until lately at the north end of the Causeway, was an attendant at the church, and being an organ-builder undertook to improvise a keyboard attachment for this barrel organ. This keyboard was used on Sunday mornings and on special occasions by Mrs. Atwood (Mrs. T. Sidney Wilson of St. Charles Street.) At evening services the music was produced by the barrels, worked by a handle, and the writer on these occasions was the "organist." An amusing incident occurred one Sunday evening when I, forgetting the number of verses of a hymn to be sung, stopped playing, and the congregation commenced another verse. Seeing that I had made an error I began again two notes behind. This made confusion worse confounded, as may be supposed, but having commenced I continued to the end of the verse. This being the closing hymn, "Lord, Dismiss Us with Thy Blessing," I was not long in making my exit from the church, as I did not wish to meet Mr. Cridge or any of the church officers, being only a youth and anticipating censure, but I forget if I got it. About this time a committee of ladies of the church, among whom were Mrs. A. T. Bushby, mother of Mrs. W. P. Bullen, and Mrs. Good, her sister, both daughters of the Governor, Mrs. Senator Macdonald, and Mrs. Cridge collected a large sum of money and sent to England for a fine pipe organ which I suppose is the one in use to-day. The first organist of this organ was a Mr. Whittaker, and of the choir, as near as I can remember them, were the Misses Harriet and Annie Thorne, Mrs. T. Sidney Wilson, Mrs. Macdonald and her two sisters the Misses Reid, Dr. J. C. Davie, Alex. Davie, his brother, Mr. Willoughby, Robert Jenkinson, Albert F. Hicks, John Bagnall, my brother Rowland and myself. Mr. Walter Chambers, as a youth, was organ blower also about this time. The first sexton and verger was William Raby, and the next John Spelde, who had charge of the Quadra Street Cemetery, digging the graves and collecting the fees for the same.

I have spun this article out beyond what I intended, but I must be excused as I don’t know when I have said enough on pioneer days.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CHRISTMAS IN PIONEER DAYS

"… When I remember all the friends so linked together

… Fond memory brings the light of other days around me."

I have been requested to give my recollection of a Victoria Christmas in the good old days, as to how it was spent and conditions generally. In the first place, in speaking of "the good old days" of the sixties, I would not convey the impression that they were literally so good, for they were, so far as I can remember, some of the hardest that Victoria has seen.

There is a something in recollections of the past that have been pleasant that is indescribable. It is easier felt than described, and I have no doubt is felt by many old-timers in this city to-day. Ask them to describe these feelings and they would be nonplussed. "Mark Twain" was written to by the pioneers of California inviting him to come and speak of the early days of San Francisco, when he was himself a pioneer of the Pacific. What his reply was I now forget, but it was something to this effect: "Do you wish to see an old man overcome and weep as he recalls those pioneer days?" These were a few words of what he said in reply to that invitation. "The good old days" may not have been the most prosperous, nor the happiest that "Mark Twain" may have spent, but there was a something, a charm indescribable that he felt, but could not express. I feel this way myself.

It is Christmas and its surroundings in any age that help to make these pleasing regrets. The incidents and the persons connected with them are gone and can never be recalled. The friends we knew then, whom we may have met at one of those Christmas gatherings, we see them as they pass before our mental vision. Where are they all to-day? The Quadra Street Cemetery might be able to tell, for each is "in his narrow cell forever laid."

I have rambled far enough, and it is time I got to my story.

I would remark in passing that Christmas, to be genuine, should be bright and frosty, with a flurry of snow, and this with walking exercise makes the blood to flow freely, and makes one feel better able to enjoy the festive occasion.