Archive for November, 2013

In the little Cumbrian valley of Matterdale there is a local story that has been passed down from generation to generation for more than three hundred years. It tells of how in the late seventeenth century one poor tenant farmer walked hundreds of miles to London to testify in front of the highest court in the land – the House of Lords – in a trial which pitted a group of Matterdale farmers against a powerful local lord of the manor. Is this story true? If so what was it all about and what was the outcome?

Luckily the records of the trial survive in the archives of the House of Lords and so it is possible to reconstruct much of the real history of this small episode. More than this, the long and costly struggle of the Matterdale farmers gives us a lovely insight into the centuries-long, and much opposed, English enclosure process – a process that was just beginning to bite in Cumberland in the seventeenth century.

Matterdale Church, Cumberland

In those days, it was relatively unusual for poor tenant farmers (not to speak of still poorer cottagers and landless peasants) to somehow be able to manage to take their complaints and grievances against their lords all the way through the different levels of the English legal system right up to the House of Lords. It was also quite rare for them to eventually win, as these Matterdale farmers did! Such rarity was both because the legal system was increasingly stacked against poor rural people trying to uphold their age-old common rights against the insidious and inexorable encroachments of powerful local lords, but also it was simply a question of money. Most small farmers simply just couldn’t afford the huge expense of lawyers plus the time and effort required to pursue their case to the very end.

Later I will provide a little background on the English enclosure movement and what protecting common rights meant, as well as giving some colour regarding the protagonists themselves, the judges and the witnesses who were called to appear before the House of Lords. I will also ask if we can identify the person who “walked to London”. But first what follows is the true story of the legal case as best I can reconstruct it.

Background to the trials


Cumberland was a very poor and sparsely populated county. It wasn’t “champion” arable country as was to be found in much of the south and east of the country. It was and still is a land of lakes, mountains and moors. Great barons and lords held almost all the land in “fee” either directly from the King or from their feudal superiors – i.e. from more powerful magnates. The common people, particularly but not only customary tenant farmers, still pastured their livestock on the moors. These once natural rights to “the common treasury of all” had by now become “customary” rights. The Cumbrian farmers’ ‘right of common pasture’ on certain moors near Matterdale lay at the heart of the legal battle that is the subject of this article.

In the seventeenth century, the greatest landowning barons in the area were the Howard family, the Dukes of Norfolk, but another powerful family was the Huddlestons – historically Catholic like the Dukes of Norfolk themselves. Andrew Huddleston had recently converted to Protestantism to avoid the problems and religious persecution suffered by other members of his family. He was the Lord of the Manor of Hutton John. It was Andrew’s actions that were the cause of the farmers’ complaints and legal battles.

The Carlisle trial and the appeal

Hutton John – Andrew Huddleston’s Manor

In 1686, William Mounsey and fifty-three other named customary tenant farmers from Matterdale hired a lawyer and brought a writ, an ‘English Bill’, before the Court of Exchequer in London. Their claim was that they had all had a right of common pasture for their livestock on three nearby moors and wastes in the Manor of Hutton John, called Hutton Moor, Westermell Fell and Redmire.  But that the lord of the manor, Andrew Huddleston, claimed that the three moors were part of his manor and thus ‘belonged’ to him alone and that the farmers had no right of common pasture there. Like his father before him, he had tried to prevent the farmers from making use of these moors for grazing their livestock. When they didn’t stop he impounded (i.e. seized) their cattle. As the farmers couldn’t fight him physically they had had to resort to the law.

The case is called William Mounsey et al, versus Huddleston.

On July 1st 1686, the Exchequer judges referred the case to the Court of Common Pleas, to be heard at the next session of the Cumberland Assizes in Carlisle. This was duly held. The Carlisle assize court was presided over by an itinerant judge; a jury of twelve local men was convened. The judge in the case was called Thomas Powell (later Sir Thomas). The court and the jury heard the arguments of the plaintiff farmers and of the defendant Andrew Huddleston (or at least from their counsels), as well as taking the testimony of other witnesses.

The jury found in the farmers’ favour. But Huddleston wasn’t having any of it. As we will see he was later to argue that the true decision of the jury wasn’t in fact that all these fifty-four Matterdale tenants had a right of common pasture on ‘his’ moors and wastes, but that only he and William Mounsey had such a right. However, in the immediate aftermath of the trial what he in fact did was to continue to harass the farmers and impound their cattle.

The farmers wouldn’t lie down for this. They believed they had right on their side. As the law allowed, they made an appeal to the Court of Appeal to have the trial decision upheld and enforced. This meant returning to the judges of the Court of Exchequer in London when they sat to judge such matters of supposed Error and ‘Equity and Justice’. These sittings were held in the “Exchequer Chamber”. We are told that the judges in the Exchequer Chamber questioned the original Carlisle trial judge, the now ‘Sir’ Thomas Powell, and examined the trial record (the so-called Postea). They upheld the original verdict that all the farmers had the customary right of common pasture and made an injunction restraining Huddlestone from harassing the farmers further.

The House of Lords

London in 1690

Andrew Huddleston still refused to accept the verdict and the injunction made against him that he should refrain from harassing the farmers and impounding their cattle. He decided to appeal to the House of Lords to “reverse” the judgement and decree of the Court of Exchequer and asked that he be “restored to all that he hath lost thereby”.

His petition to the House, written by his counsels Samuel Buck and B. Tonstall, is dated the 3rd of April 1690. His case was that there had been an error in the recording of the verdict of the jury at the Carlisle court and that it had actually found that only he and William Mounsey had the common customary right to pasture their livestock on the moors and not that all the farmers had this right as the Court of Exchequer had found. His petition reads:

At ye next assizes for ye said County after aview averdict was given upon ye said issue that the said Mounsey hath only right of common in Westermellfell and the said verdict was indorsed on ye Pannell and yet afterwards at ye hearing upon ye equity… the said court by reason of ye said verdict decreed that all ye said 53 tenants of Matterdale should enjoy right of Common in Westermellfell and that your petitioner should pay costs and be perpetually enjoyned from distreining any (of) ye said Tenants cattle upon ye said Westermellfell.

He based his case on his contention that:

Ten of the said Jury certified upon Oath filed in ye said Court that it was the meaning of the said Jury that ye said Mounsey had only rights of Comon in Westermellfell and no other of the tenants of Matterdale.

And that:

Ye Postea was not filed in ye Court of Common Pleas….  until ye last long vacacon (vacation) and then notwithstanding ye indorsement Judgement was entered as if it had been found that all ye fifty-three tenants had and ought to have Comon in Westermellfell. All of which your petitioner assignes for Error in ye said Judgement and Decree.

Thus his petition to reverse the decision of the court of appeal was “ by reason of ye said indorsement of Record and ye said Certificates ready to be produced” which proved that “it was not found that any of the said tenants had or ought to have any common…”

Now this all may seem a bit obscure and full of French Law expressions, and it is, but as far as I can understand it essentially Huddleston was arguing that the verdict of the Carlisle trial (no doubt along with a list of jurors) was recorded and annexed to or “indorsed” to the writ on a parchment “Pannell”. This had been either not been seen or was ignored by the Court of Appeal. In addition, the Postea, which was the written report of the clerk of the court after a trial detailing the proceedings and the decision reached, had been delayed in being submitted to the Court of Common Pleas in London and thus had not been seen by the judges of the Exchequer Chamber. He was also claiming that he had sworn written statements (affidavits) from ten of the Carlisle jurymen that they had in fact only found that Mounsey had a right of common and not all the tenant farmers.

On the 3rd April 1690 the House of Lords considered Huddleston’s petition:

Upon reading the Petition of Andrew Hudlestone Esquire; shewing, “That William Munsey, and Fifty-three others, as Tenants within the Vill of Matterdale, in the Barony of Grastocke, in the County of Cumberland, in Mich’mas Terme, 36°Car. IIdi, exhibited their English Bill in the Court of Exchequer against your Petitioner, as Lord of the Manor of Hutton John, complaining, that at a Hearing, 1° Julii 1686, it was by that Court referred to a Trial at Law, whether all or any of the said Tenants of Matterdale have or ought to have Common of Pasture in the said Moors, or any Part thereof; and also of the Judgement given upon that Issue, which he conceives to be erroneous,” as in the Petition is set forth:

It is thereupon ORDERED, by the Lords Spiritual and Temporal in Parliament assembled, That the said William Munsey, and the Fifty-three other Tenants before-mentioned, may have a Copy or Copies of the said Petition; and be, and are hereby, required to put in their Answer or respective Answers thereunto, in Writing, on Thursday the 17th Day of this Instant April, at Ten of the Clock in the Forenoon; whereof the Petitioner is to cause timely Notice to be given to the Defendants, to the End they answer accordingly.

This was a tight deadline for the farmers and their counsel asked for an extension, which the Lords granted on the 15th of April:

The House being this Day moved, “That William Munsey and the Inhabitants of Materdale in Cumberland may have a longer Time to answer to the Petition and Appeal of Andrew Hudleston, they being at a great Distance from London:”

It is thereupon ORDERED, That the said William Munsey and others the Inhabitants aforesaid have hereby Time given them for answering thereunto, until Thursday the First Day of May next, at Ten of the Clock in the Forenoon.

The Matterdale farmers gave their answer on the 30th April 1690. They stated yet again that they held they held customary tenements in “the Barony of Greystoke in the County of Cumberland” and that these tenements were “descendible from ancestor to heire according to the custom of the said Barony under diverse rents and services”. In addition they:

Became duly intituled under the right and tithe of the then Duke of Norfolk Lord and owner of the said Barony or otherwise to have common of pasture for all their goates, sheep and cattle levant and couchant on the said customary tenements yearly and at all times of the year in and upon certain Moores or Wast grounds called Hutton Moor, Westermellfell and Redmire or some of them in the parish of Graystoke  as to their customary tenements belonging and which they and their Ancestors and predecessors, tenants of the said customary tenements, had from tyme out of mind enjoyed and ought to enjoy and being molested therein unjustly by the now Appellant who claymes to be Lord of the Manor of Hutton John and that the said Moores and Wastes lye within that Manor and pretended that the now Respondents had no right of common there.

The farmers then described how they had wanted to assert and establish their right of common and had thus presented their ‘English Bill’ to the Court of Exchequer and how their case had been sent for trial at the Carlisle assizes, in the Court of Common Pleas, the question being:

Whether all or any of the customary tenants of the late Henry Duke of Norfolk in Matterdale … have (from) tyme out of mind had and ought to have common of pasture on the waste grounds called Hutton Moor, Westermell Fell and Redmire in any part thereof and at all tymes of the year..

They stated that “upon a long and full evidence and examination on both sides the Jury gave a verdict that all the said customary tenants had common of pasture for their said cattle”, and that this decision had been so recorded in the Postea. They went on to explain how the case “came again to be heard in the Exchequer Chambor” (the appeal court), how the judges had once again examined witnesses, read the Postea and heard counsel for both parties. The judges had also examined the original trial judge, the now ‘Sir’ Tomas Powell, and had “decreed that all respondents had right of common… and that they should enjoy the same without the least disturbance or interruption of the now Appellant (Huddleston) and that “an injunction was awarded for quiet enjoyment and restraining of the Appellant”.

Westermell Fell – Now Great Mell Fell

Basically the farmers were claiming that both the Court of Common Pleas sitting in Carlisle and subsequently the Exchequer appeal court, sitting in the Exchequer Chamber, had found for them. Their rights, they said, had been upheld “in diverse Tryalls at Law”, but that the petitioner Huddleston “being unreasonably vexatious did still molest and interrupt (them) in the enjoyment of their common by impounding their cattle and otherwise and yet (i.e. still) refusing to suffer their right and title to the said common”. Regarding Huddleston’s claim that he had affidavits from ten of the original Carlisle jury, the farmers “suggested that if he had “procured” such certificates then they believed these to have been “unduly obtained” and that “they ought not to be made use of against them in this case” because it would be of “dangerous consequence to admit new evidence” or give credence to any statements of the jurors which were “in opposition or diminution to their verdict entered of record and verified by the Judge before whom the Tryall was had”.

In essence I think we see here the implicit suggestion of the farmers that Huddleston had somehow pressured or extorted the jurors to recant their original decision. We will never know the truth but such things were not unheard of.

Some of the exasperation of the farmers comes to us clearly over the centuries from their final words. Being they said “but poor men” they were “not able to contend with the Appellant who is rich and powerfull and uses all means to weary (us) out”.

They asked that the House of Lords dismiss Huddleston’s petition “with costs” because they had already occurred significant costs and trouble “in the proceedings so far” and that there was still more to pay.

The verdict

The House of Lords in the seventeenth century

The Lords set the 10th May 1690 for the hearing of the case and asked Huddleston to “cause Notice to be given to the Defendants, to the End they attend with their Counsel accordingly” on that day. They also ordered that “Charles Howard Esquire, John Aglionby Esquire, James Bird Esquire, John Mounsey Gentleman, and John Grisedale” should “attend this House, on Monday the 12th of this Instant May, at Ten of the Clock in the Forenoon, as Witnesses on the Behalf of William Mounsey and others Respondents, and wherein Andrew Hudlestone Esquire is Appellant”.

The date of the hearing was moved back twice more, both because the “respondents and Andrew Hudlestone” were “far distant from London” and because their Lordships had had to deal with “more weighty matters”. A final date of 4th December 1690 was eventually fixed.

The day before the hearing the Lords ordered that:

The Custos Brevium of the Court of Common Pleas do attend at the Bar of this House To-morrow, at Ten of the Clock in the Forenoon, with the Record of the Postea and Verdict in the Cause tried at the Assizes at Carlisle, between Andrew Hudleston Esquire and Mr. William Mounsey; and hereof he may not fail.

The Custos Brevium was the chief clerk of the Court of Common Pleas. The judges wanted to see for themselves the written record of the Carlisle trial which was such a bone of contention.

I give the Lords’ verdict in full:

Upon hearing Counsel this Day at the Bar, upon the Petition of Andrew Hudleston Esquire, shewing, “That William Mounsey and Fifty-three others, as Tenants within the Vill of Matterdale, in the Barony of Graystocke, in the County ofCumberland, in Michaelmas Terme, 36° Car. 11di, exhibited their English Bill, in the Court of Exchequer, against the Petitioner, as Lord of the Manor of Hutton John; complaining, that, at a Hearing, the First of July 1686, it was by that Court referred to a Trial at Law, whether all or any of the said Tenants of Matterdale have, or ought to have, Common of Pasture in the Moors or Wastes in the Petition mentioned, or any Part thereof, as also of the Judgement given upon the Issue, which he conceives to be erroneous;” as also upon hearing Counsel upon the Answer of William Mounsey, Richard Grisedale, Jos. Grisedale, Thomas Atkinson Junior, Thomas Atkinson Senior, Edward Grisedale Senior, Edward Grisedale Junior, Thomas Grisedale, Thomas Grisedale, John Pauley, William Greenhow, Robert Grisedale, John Benson, John Wilkinson, William Robinson, Michaell Grisedale, William Dockeray, Thomas Wilson, Thomas Wilson, Thomas Harrison, Thomas Hoggart, John Wilson, George Martin, John Harrison, John Neffeild, Thomas Wilson, Thomas Hodgson, William Wilkinson, Richard Wilkinson, John Dawson, Rich. Sutton, John Nithellson, John Robinson, Chamberlaine Dawson, John Mounsey, William Wilson, Robert Hudson, James Hudson, Agnes Gibson, Robert Rukin, John Brownrigg, Michaell Atkinson, John Greenhow, John Birkett, Thomas Brownrigg, William Robinson, Thomas Greenhow, John Gilbanck, Thomas Greenhow, John Gilbanck, John Greenbow, Thomas Greenhow, and John Coleman, put in thereunto:

After due Consideration had of what was offered by Counsel on either Side thereupon, it is ORDERED and Adjudged, by the Lords Spiritual and Temporal in Parliament assembled, That the said Petition of Andrew Hudleston be, and is hereby, dismissed this House; and that the Decree made in the Court of Exchequer, from which he appealed to this House, be, and is hereby, affirmed.

The Matterdale farmers had won. At least for the time being they and their descendants would be able to benefit from their common and customary rights to graze their cattle and other livestock on these Cumberland moors. Of course the Huddleston family didn’t give up their quest to deny the farmers their ancient rights and they were finally able to completely enclose Hutton Fell by an Act of Parliamentary Enclosure in the nineteenth century, by which time many of the members of the families who brought Andrew Huddleston to court had already been forced off the land, to move to the satanic mills of the northern industrial towns, to join the army or to emigrate. But that is another story.

Who were the protagonists and their witnesses?

The full list of all the fifty-four Matterdale farmers was given in the Lords final ruling quoted above as well as in the farmers’ answer to Huddleston’s petition. They were all members of long-established Matterdale families. William Mounsey himself was one of the wealthier tenants and came from Brownrigg in Matterdale, others farmed up and down Matterdale valley, from Douthwaite Head in the south to near Hutton John in the north.

As has been mentioned, Andrew Huddleston came from a long line of Catholics, whose cadet branch had become Lords of Hutton John. Andrew’s Uncle John was a catholic priest and had helped King Charles the Second escape following the decisive Battle of Worcester in 1651 and when Charles was restored after the English Revolution he became his confidant and reconciled him to the Catholic faith on his deathbed. Unlike many of his relatives (including his father) Andrew was flexible and converted to the Anglican faith and then set about restoring his family’s fortunes. The Huddlestons remained Lords of Hutton John for centuries to come.

Regarding the witnesses who were called to the House of Lords as witnesses; on November 8th 1690, when Andrew Huddleston petitioned that “your Lordships appoint a day” for the hearing, his counsel also humbly conceived that “Sir Wilfred Lawson Bart., John Pattinson, Thomas Benn and John Huddleston be fit and material witnesses in the cause”. I will have to leave it for a later time to look at who these people were (and it is certainly of interest). Suffice it to say they were obviously being called to bolster Huddleston case regarding the alleged customary rights of the tenant farmers as well to challenge the decision of the jury at the Carlisle assizes as it had been interpreted by the Court of Exchequer.

Brownrigg In Matterdale – Where William Mounsey lived

But if we want to know who the Matterdale farmer was who, according to the local oral history, walked to London to appear before the House of Lords, we need perhaps to look at the witnesses called to give evidence for the farmers themselves. Earlier I mentioned that the House of Lords had ordered that “Charles Howard Esquire, John Aglionby Esquire, James Bird Esquire, John Mounsey Gentleman, and John Grisedale” should “attend this House … as Witnesses on the Behalf of William Mounsey and others Respondents”. Now Charles Howard (of Greystoke) was the brother of Henry the sixth Duke of Norfolk who had died in 1684 and to whom the farmers repeatedly made reference in trying to establish the legality of their rights of common pasture. He was no doubt being called to testify to this effect. John Aglionby’s family had supposedly come over with William the Conqueror and were a long-established Cumbrian gentry family. John himself was a lawyer and a long-serving recorder of the Carlisle Assizes and was thus without much doubt being called to testify regarding the decision of the jury and court in the original trial. James Bird Esq. remains obscure for the moment, but John Mounsey, who was a “gentleman”, was William Mounsey’s brother. He and John Grisedale (certainly a relative of the numerous Grisdales amongst the Matterdale farmers) were probably being called either to give evidence regarding the customary rights of the farmers “from time immemorial” or regarding the verdict of the Carlisle trial.

So perhaps it was John Mounsey or John Grisedale who had “walked to London”? After all they are the two most likely contenders as we know that the House of Lords had demanded their presence. But of course it could equally as well have been William Mounsey himself or one of the other fifty-three, in their capacity as respondents to Huddleston’s petition. Perhaps we will never know.

What was it all about?

It’s certainly pleasing to know that this group of “poor men” finally prevailed over the “rich and powerful” Andrew Huddleston. It was obviously pretty crucial to their future livelihood that they could continue to pasture their animals on the moors.  But where does this small legal fight fit in the longer sweep of English history?

The majority of the English rural population had “from time out of mind” relied upon being able to make use of the huge swathes of England that were not under cultivation or definitively enclosed to supplement their meagre livelihood. They collected wood from the forests for building and heating, they foraged wild fruits, berries and leaves to supplement their diets, they cut peat or turf to burn and they grazed their goats, sheep and cattle on the wastes and moors. This they had done for as long as people had lived in a specific locality – in England certainly from well before the Norman Conquest. Without wishing to romanticise pre-conquest England, the land and it bounty were a “common treasury” for all.

When The Norman French arrived in and after 1066, England was divvied up between the King and his secular and religious followers. The French feudal system was imposed with a vengeance. The long process of denying people their “rights” (to use an anachronistic term) to make use of the Commons had begun. The Norman French Kings created private “forests” for their own hunting while the French religious and lay barons and lords went about reducing most of the population to de facto or de jure serfdom. But while there was  hardly any part of the country that was not owned (or held in feudal fee) by the Kings or the great magnates and lords, there were still enormous amounts of wastes, woods and moors surrounding the hundreds of nucleated, and usually cultivated, villages. The local people continued to use these commons but now their right to do so had become “customary” rather than what we might call natural.

Sheepfold on Hutton Moor

These customary rights were just part of a whole elaborate web of mutual feudal rights and obligations between lords and their vassals. To take the example of Cumbrian tenant farmers, they had the right to live on and work their tenements because their ancestors had before them. They had to pay rents, they owed labour services on the lords’ home farms – including various boon-days when the harvest needed gathering. They had to pay a fine or “relief” when the tenant died and his successor took over and when the manor itself passed from one generation to the next. But they also had rights in the common. By the seventeenth century all these rights and obligations were seen as deriving from custom. Sometimes they were written down but sometimes the customs were just that: customary, and were claimed to have existed from time immemorial.

An important part of the history of the English people in the nine hundred years following the Conquest is the history of how the majority of English people was inexorably deprived of its common rights and slowly but surely forced off the land. This was the process of English enclosures. It took a long time, starting I would suggest in the thirteenth century, gaining momentum in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and reaching its brutal climax with the Parliamentary Enclosures of the nineteenth century; by which time England had been effectively fully privatised.

George Orwell once put it thus:

Stop to consider how the so-called owners of the land got hold of it. They simply seized it by force, afterwards hiring lawyers to provide them with title-deeds. In the case of the enclosure of the common lands, which was going on from about 1600 to 1850, the land-grabbers did not even have the excuse of being foreign conquerors; they were quite frankly taking the heritage of their own countrymen, upon no sort of pretext except that they had the power to do so.

In the previous century Karl Marx had already summed up what the Enclosures were all about:

We have seen how the forcible seizure of the common lands, accompanied for the most part by the transformation of arable into pasture, began in the fifteenth century and lasted on into the sixteenth […] The advance that has been made in the eighteenth century is shown in this, that the law itself now became the instrument by which the theft of the people’s land was achieved, although the great farmers continued to use their petty private methods in addition. The parliamentary form of this robbery was to pass Acts for the enclosure of commons; in other words, decrees whereby the great landowners made a present to themselves of the people’s land, which thus became their own private property […] a systematic seizure of communal landed property helped, side by side with the theft of the State domains, to swell the size of those great farms which, in the eighteenth century, were called ‘capital farms’ or ‘merchant farms’, and ‘to set the country folk at liberty’ as a proletariat for the uses of industry.

Deprived of the Commons many Matterdale people ended up here

The small victory of the Matterdale farmers in 1690 was important to them, but in the longer term their victory was almost pyrrhic. The Huddlestons wanted more land and they wanted exclusive use of that land. They wanted “private property” in its modern sense. They, like so many other “noble” English families, finally got what they wanted. The bulk of the rural population could no longer support itself. If people couldn’t have access to the commons they were drawn into the new industrial cities and towns there to become a new class of urban proletariat, or perhaps they went to fights the Kings’ wars or had to emigrate to Canada or America or perhaps they were convicted of petty crimes undertaken to feed themselves and their families and were transported to Australia. The descendants of the Matterdale farmers did all of these.


The details of the hearing of the case William Mounsey et al, versus Huddleston are held in the archives of the House of Lords. Huddleston’s petition: HL/PO/JO/10/1/422/250 and Mounsey et al’s reply: HL/PO/JO/3/184/1. The House of Lords Journal Volume pages 447, 465, 486, 488, 545, 548, 577 and 578 provide further information.

There are also documents relating to the original Carlisle assize trial  held in the Cumbria record office, including D HUD 1/20  and D HGB/1/115.

Some aspects of genealogical relatedness.

It might seem an odd question to ask, but are you your child’s cousin? The answer, perhaps rather surprisingly, is that you well might be. In fact if you go back far enough the chances are high that you are. The only question being how far back you have to go. Understanding why illustrates some interesting features of family history and history in general.

In an article in Family Tree magazine I wrote about how many ancestors we have. The fact is that the numbers don’t keep on doubling in each generation (2 parents, 4 grandparents, 8 great grandparents etc), but rather at some point the number of our direct ancestors stops expanding and goes into steep reverse. The reasons for this have to with ‘cousin marriage’. Our ancestors married cousins of various degrees, and not just that but when they, just for example, married a second cousin they were most probably related in multiple other ways to their spouse as well, not just in one way.

One of the upshots of this is that any particular ancestor you have might be your ancestor several times over but via different routes. Your 6th great grandmother could be your direct ancestor by three or four quite separate routes. The frequency that this happens in your own family, and the timescale over which it happens, will depend to a large extent on whether your family came from a small, possibly remote, and certainly rather closed community, or not. The more cut-off or remote a community is, the more different degrees of cousin marriage would have been prevalent and thus the sooner in the past you are likely to find some people being your ancestors more than once by different routes.

Saxton's 1577 map of Lancashire. 'Meoles' is top left

Saxton’s 1577 map of Lancashire. ‘Meoles’ is top left

I’ll take one example from my own family. My paternal grandmother was called Mary Seddon. She came from a long line of farmers in the Lancashire parish of North Meols (pronounced Meals). The resort town of Southport developed there in the nineteenth century, but prior to this North Meols was for many centuries a small, isolated and very cut-off farming, fishing and smuggling community. There were only a limited number of families and they continually intermarried. These families included the Linakers, Blundells, Aughtons, Bakers, Hootons, Gregsons,  Rimmers, Abrams and Seddons; all of whom appear in my own family history. Indeed not only did these families marry each other, they also married within the same family, quite often first cousins with the same name! Nearly all the marriages were between cousins of some degree and involved several distinct relationships between the spouses. Because the community was so small and closed (people twenty miles away said they didn’t understand the accent), this inbreeding can quite readily be spotted in the records. Whereas with a family in a much larger or more open community, like a big city, this type of cousin marriage is likely to have been much less frequent and significantly harder to spot when it did occur.

On this side of my family I can clearly identify several cases where a direct ancestor is an ancestor by several distinct routes.

But what about a parent’s relationship with their child? Obviously you are your child’s parent by definition – the closest kinship relationship. Your own parents were your child’s grandparents and so on. Yet your child has another parent as well. It is because you might be related to your spouse or partner that your child can also be your own cousin. The ‘degree’ of the cousin relationship being determined by how far back you have to go till you and your spouse find common ancestors. With first cousins it’s quite clear. If you married your first cousin this means you share a common pair of grandparents. In turn this means that your child will be a first cousin ‘once removed’ of both you and your spouse.

In closed communities like North Meols where there were more often than not multiple cousin relationships between couples, then almost invariably any child will be a cousin of some degree of both of his or her parents – say a ‘2nd cousin once removed’.

Alberbury Shropshire

Alberbury Shropshire

In my own family this suggests that up until the time of my grandmother’s own parents (called Richard Seddon and Margaret Blundell), all parents and children in this line of the family were pretty certainly ‘cousins’. I can prove that this was the case. Yet North Meols did start to open up, and more and more people came in as Southport developed, including my Lewis family which arrived from Shropshire in about 1871. When my Southport-born grandfather married Mary Seddon and they had a son (my father), was he a cousin of some type of his own parents? In order for this to have been so my paternal grandparents’ lines would have needed to have crossed sometime back in history. Was there at some time a union between these lines of this Lancashire family and this Shropshire family? Over the period of time I can trace, roughly 400 – 500 years, I can’t see any such union, although it’s still possible. Yet if we were able to look further back into history we would very probably find some very ancient such union. While North Meols and western Shropshire were both pretty closed societies they weren’t hermetically sealed. But the fact remains that my father was not a cousin of his parents over any reasonable timescale. The same is even truer of the relationship between me and my daughter, because my wife isn’t even British.

What’s the answer for you? Is your child your ‘cousin’? If you and your partner come from the same small and relatively closed community then you very well likely are. You might not have to go back very far to prove this. If, however, you and your partner come from separate or much more open communities, or even from different countries, then any cousin relationship with your child would probably be only of immense antiquity or wouldn’t for all practical purposes exist at all.

Counting your ancestors

Posted: November 30, 2013 in Family History, Genealogy, History

This is the text of an article publish in Family Tree magazine in March 2013. A more extended version can be found here.

Tackling a numerical problem – just how many ancestors have we got and how on earth could we count them? Here Stephen Lewis explains how to make sense of a seeming paradox…

Almost everyone with an interest in family history and genealogy will at one time or another ask themselves how many ancestors they have. As we research our roots further and further back, the numbers seem to explode, and it starts to become incredibly difficult to keep track. What determines the number of your ancestors? What factors are at play?

An explosion of ancestors

On the surface the question of how many ancestors you have might seem simple to answer. After all you have two parents, four grandparents, eight great-grandparents and 16 great-great-grandparents do you not? Don’t you just need to do a simple mathematical calculation to work out the number of your direct ancestors who were living and breeding so many generations ago? The numbers surely just double in each generation: 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64 and so on, forming a pyramid.

Using 1947 as a reasonable starting date and 30 years as the average inter-generational length, ten generations ago – which takes us back to the time of the English Civil War and to the early days of British settlement in North America – it seems we should all have had 1,024 eighth great-grandparents. You might also be interested in working out how many direct ancestors you might have had in total between a certain date in the past and now. You can just add up the numbers for each generation. Going back 10 generations (starting from your parents) the total is 2,046 direct ancestors.

But, as many will have noticed, there is a problem with this. If we calculate the numbers 30 generations ago, at about the time of the Norman Conquest in 1066, we would seem to have needed about 1.1 billion direct and distinct ancestors alive at that time, and in only one generation. Obviously this is impossible, as the total world population in the 11th century is estimated to have only been about 250 to 300 million.

So the number of our ancestors can’t keep on doubling as we go further and further back. Sooner or later the number of your ancestors must have stopped exploding and must have started to shrink, and shrink fast. What causes this so-called ‘Pedigree Collapse’ and what determines when it happens? Both questions are answered by understanding the nature and extent of cousin marriage, or inbreeding if you like; levels of migration and outbreeding influence this.

Cousin marriage

In some societies cousin marriage is either illegal or socially taboo. In England, even though Henry VIII abolished  restrictions on marrying ‘cousins’ so he could marry Catherine Howard (Anne Boleyn’s cousin), for centuries there have been both ecclesiastical and  other controls on marriage between family members. Today in the West, close cousin marriage is rare, although recently an Australian research scientist, Dr Alan Bittles, concluded that ‘slightly more than 10per cent of marriages worldwide are between people who are second cousins or closer’. In the past, not only was some degree of cousin marriage likely, it must have been extremely common. Without it we couldn’t even attempt to make sense of the development of human numbers over the centuries and millennia.

The first effect of cousin marriage is to reduce the rate of growth of the actual number of your ancestors, as compared to the theoretical maximum. If your parents were first cousins this means they shared one set of ‘duplicate’ grandparents and thus rather than them having the maximum of eight grandparents between them, they would have had only six. This is a 25per cent reduction in their grandparental ancestry, a reduction that goes back forever. Similarly, a marriage of second cousins would reduce numbers by one-eighth, or 12.5per cent, in each generation.

The problem is that no matter how high the historic level of individual first and second cousin marriage – and it wasn’t very high – although it will reduce the rate at which the number of your ancestors increases, it will never put the process into reverse. For example, using the completely unrealistic assumption that every single one of your ancestors married a second cousin, which would reduce the supposed number of your ancestors at the time of the Norman Conquest by a staggering 96per cent from the theoretical maximum of about 1.1 billion, it would still mean that your distinct direct ancestors (in one generation) alive at the time numbered about 4.4 million, still more than the estimated total British population. And this is without taking account of the fraction of the population accounted for by one generation and the percentage of people alive at the time who had no descendants or whose descendant line died out.

Multiple relationships

It’s relatively easy to show that as the practice of individual cousin marriage increases your ancestor pyramid will narrow. Yet the total number will still keep on growing. It will never go into reverse. However such a reversal must have happened – both in total and for every single one of us. Simply put, the reason for the reversal is that when your ancestors married or bred with a cousin (of whatever degree) they very often also had more than one family relationship with their mate – sometimes many more.

Let’s use a very simple hypothetical example to elucidate this. Imagine again that your parents were first cousins, so they shared a common pair of grandparents. But they could also be second cousins as well, in which case they would also share a common pair of great-grandparents. The first cousin relationship would reduce the number of your ancestors in, for example, the fourth generation from 16 to 12. The addition of the second cousin relationship between them would reduce this number still further – from 12 to 10. As we go back in time, such multiple relationships between spouses proliferate. They might be second cousins twice over and third cousins or fourth cousins many times over. Such multiple relationships have an additive effect on the reduction in the number of your ancestors. The further you go back into your history the more likely you will find that this has been the case – in fact it is absolutely inevitable.

This is all mathematically, biologically and historically certain. With enough multiple relationships, with enough breeding between males and females who are related in multiple ways, the cumulative effect of removing duplicate ancestors will at some point eventually outweigh the doubling effect and the number of your discrete ancestors will start to shrink.

Try a thought experiment. Imagine a Mr and Mrs Crusoe washed up on a desert island. Any children they have will need to breed with each other – heaven forbid with their parents! Their children will all be first cousins. As the generations go by, all the couple’s descendants will become related to each other in multiple ways. If you are a descendant of the Crusoe family today and calculate the number of your ancestors, it will first quickly grow but eventually it will shrink back to just two – Mr and Mrs Crusoe.

Such an expansion and contraction in ancestor numbers is a phenomenon well known to breeders of pedigree dogs and horses. The shorter life span of these animals, plus the fact that breeders must keep detailed records, often enables them to clearly plot such pedigree collapses. Indeed these collapses often happen more than once. The main problem with applying this analogy to humans is that animal breeders are consciously trying to breed ‘pedigree’ animals; they are artificially and deliberately restricting the opportunities for dogs or horses to breed outside a very restricted group. Just as, in a similar way, the inhabitants of our hypothetical Crusoe Island have also been restricted in their breeding – by geographic separation.

Migration and outbreeding

So it is because humans historically have bred with people with whom they have multiple relationships that pedigree collapse happens. For any person or any country, when exactly the reversal in numbers happened is thus in the first instance determined by the level of inbreeding – how quickly the number of duplicate ancestors outweighs generational doubling. In England this reversal happened in the High Middle Ages, probably in the 1200s; for individuals or in other countries the timing can be different. But humans generally try to avoid incest or inbreeding. The extent that they can do so will mostly be determined by another factor: the available breeding pool. The people with whom our ancestors could breed was not limited to all those living in their village or even in their country. People moved; they migrated. Every time one of your ancestors moved into or out of one of their ‘ancestral’ areas, whether a few miles or hundreds or thousands of miles, they brought or took with them an untold number of ancestors of their own. These ancestors have become your own. If people hadn’t moved at all we would all be able to trace our lineage to one ‘Adam and Eve’ founder couple in the not too distant past, just like in the Robinson Crusoe example. The more your ancestors moved the further back in time your own pedigree collapse will be pushed.

What’s the answer?

So how many direct ancestors do you have? The answer, I’m afraid, is that you will never be able to calculate precise numbers. Reliable records just don’t go far back enough. The number might be more than you imagined, as the seemingly relentless doubling goes on. Yet we know that sooner or later their number will start to decline. It might be, though it is extremely unlikely in the time frames we have been considering, that your ancestry goes back to only one locale at a certain point in history or even to one ‘founder’ couple. But remember this: it has been shown that the human race went through at least one population bottleneck during its history. At certain times it appears that humankind almost went extinct. Scientists have suggested that around 70,000 years ago the total world population dwindled to only a few thousand Africans – the so-called Toba catastrophe. They are the ancestors of all of us.

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This article appeared in the September issue of Family tree magazine (see end)


Genealogy is a fascinating thing. Trying to uncover all our ancestral lines can be a labour of love taking many years, even decades. It’s an endeavour that might never end and certainly we’ll likely never be able to solve all those little mysteries nor be able to be completely certain about each link in our family tree. The advent of the internet has helped a lot. Not only can we now quickly discover things online that previously would have necessitated repeated visits to local and national archives, but the internet can also link us with others with the same family interests – people with whom we can share research and information.

For some filling in the pieces of our family tree jigsaw-puzzle is enough in itself. Yet most of us soon start to become enthralled by the social and economic history of our family, even if we previously had no interest in ‘history’ as we might have been taught it at school. What was life like for one of our ancestors, or his/her family, at a particular time and in a particular place? Why did one of our ancestors emigrate? Why did so many children die young? We literally want to put some flesh on our forebears. We want in some small way to bring some of them back to life, perhaps for the first time in centuries.

How can we do this? How can we move from genealogy to family and social history? And, importantly, how can we communicate and share what we discover? As my old boss used to tell me: ‘There are many ways to skin a cat.’ What I‘d like to do is simply offer a few suggestions derived from my own efforts in researching and communicating the social history of parts of my own family. Some of the results can be found on my family history blog

First we need to make choices. We can only tell our family story in bite-size chunks. It’s simply not possible to tell the full story all in one go. All we’d end up with is a litany of births, marriages, children and deaths, i.e. a repetition of our ‘tree’. Or we’d spend a life-time trying to write the definitive book. Don’t agonize about these choices too much; go with your feelings. If you’re most fascinated by those of your ancestors bearing your own name then start there. On the other hand if you’re more interested in certain places where some of your ancestors lived then research that. Or perhaps start with just one person you’d most like to bring back to life.

How much flesh we can put on the lives of particular ancestors or families will of course vary. If they were rich or famous, if they emigrated, joined the church or accomplished heroic deeds then the records of their lives will likely be more extensive. But even if some or most of your ancestors left little trace of their lives, besides a few events and dates, you can still tell an interesting story.

A good starting point is to research geography. Physically what was the environment in which your ancestors lived? Was it a remote mountain community where people tended sheep? Was it a maritime port heaving with merchants, sailors and fishermen? Or perhaps it was an industrial town full of ‘dark satanic mills’? Try to find out what the physical environment was and how it changed and evolved, and why. Try to be precise. Where exactly was Douthwaite Head Farm in Cumberland? What did it look like? What surrounded it? What was a particular Lancashire cotton mill really like? How had the surrounding environment changed? Understanding the places goes a long way to understanding the lives of our ancestors.

Geography links to my second suggestion. Research what your ancestors did to make a living. The records might reveal that someone was a ‘Waller’, a ‘Chalker’ or a ‘Cotton Bleacher’. What did these occupations really involve day to day – in terms of travel, health, income and the precariousness of existence? Mariners by definition travelled far and wide, as did Wallers (though more locally), whereas ‘Yeoman’ farmers usually stayed put. You might have no personal records of your ‘Waller’ ancestor but you can still start to reconstruct their life from what is known of the lives of others with the same job.

The next thing to consider is the important fact of class. All societies at all times have been stratified. The rich and powerful try to hold on to their privileges and extend them wherever they can. The poor try to survive. The ‘middling-sort’ tries to move up or arrest a decline of their family. A family’s class and economic position and its dealings with other classes in the vicinity can tell us much about their likely lives, their hopes and their decisions. Were your ancestors forced to quit the land because of the centuries-long rapacious land enclosures in England, or the brutal highland clearances in Scotland? Who exactly was doing the enclosing or clearing and why? What were the consequences for your ancestors? Once you understand this you can often make sense of why, to use an example from my own family, a family moved from rural Cumberland to the Bolton cotton mills, emigrated to Canada or joined the military. People tend to make such big moves only when they have to. What pushed them to it?

All of these things: geography, work, class and economics play out at the local level. But it’s also interesting to try to place these events in a wider national or international context. One of my own family members became an army officer and died in Minorca in 1801. What in heaven’s name was the British army doing in Minorca? It turns out to be a very interesting story. Another joined thousands of other British people in the Australian gold rush in the 1850s. What was that all about? Yet another family member started life as a cotton bleacher in Bolton in Lancashire, became a missionary in India and ended up a bishop in the Canadian prairies. Researching this opened up the fascinating history not only of Britain and its empire but also the history of the Canadian West.

Such research will take you down paths you might otherwise never have ventured. The social, political and economic histories you discover will start to have a real relevance because they involved and affected specific people you know and care about. You don’t need vast libraries and certainly not historical training to do any of this; you can find most of what you need on the internet.

Let’s turn to communicating our family stories. Pure genealogical facts are only likely to be of interest to others with the same family interests. But, at least in my experience, if you research, write and communicate family and social history stories, these will find a much wider audience. Others will have ancestors who fought at Waterloo, became Australian gold-diggers or ended up in the mills. Writing and communicating your stories will also pretty invariably elicit responses from remote relatives all over the world, people who are often able to add to your knowledge of your own family.

What is the best way to communicate such stories? Again the internet comes to our aid. My suggestion is create a family history blog. My own choice was to use because it’s easy to create and use, but there are others. If you want your stories to resonate with a wider audience then craft them, don’t just write little snippets however fascinating they are for you. Weave together a narrative from what you know about the subject of your story and what you have discovered about geography, occupations and economic and political forces. If you have letters, military records or emigration/immigration information use these too. Pictures and quotes will help as well. Don’t get too hung up with having to ‘prove’ every statement you make. I wouldn’t want to recommend the old journalistic adage: ‘Don’t let the facts get in the way of a good story’, but you are writing a story not defending a Ph.D. thesis. The English language is replete with ways to express the conditional, the uncertain and the conjectural. Finally, while some genealogical facts will no doubt need to be included, don’t clutter up your stories with too many of these at any one time. If you do you’ll soon lose the interest of many readers and, after all, you can always write another story!

When I started to research and write stories about my own family, not only did it open up vast areas of social and political history I had never thought about before, but it also elicited many unexpected, illuminating and often touching responses from all over the world. I am sure it will do the same for you.


On the 30th of October 1921, the Mayor of the small Ontario town of Thorold in Welland County was unveiling a cenotaph in the new Memorial Park to honour the young men of the town who had died in the Great War. According to historian Alun Hughes, ‘the Mayor was barely able to speak, since his two sons… were among the 54 names of fallen soldiers listed’.

Thorold Cenotaph

Thorold Cenotaph

The Mayor was called Grisdale, to be precise Frederick Gideon Grisdale; his family had been living in Welland County for about a hundred years. Frederick’s Grandfather Gideon had helped build the first Welland Canal and then been one of its lock keepers. His father Robert John Grisdale had won a medal for fighting the Fenian Raiders in 1861. But now Frederick was ‘barely able to speak’ as he saw the names of his sons, Arthur and Lionel, carved in stone in front of him.

Both Arthur and Lionel had been carpenters when they joined up within a few weeks of each other in late 1915. Arthur, aged 21, joined the Canadian Field Artillery, while Lionel, aged 18, enlisted in the Canadian Mounted Rifles; he would later transfer to the 1st Hussars, Canadian Light Horse.

At the start of August 1918, the Canadian army in France was participating in the Battle of Amiens.

‘The Battle of Amiens (8 – 28 August, 1918) would see the start of a string of successes for the allies that would leave the German Army a shadow of its once mighty self. To spearhead the upcoming attack, the strongest and freshest formations were called upon to spearhead the attack and so the Canadian and Australian Corps moved up to the front at Amiens. The Canadians deployed with three divisions forwards… Each division had attached to it a battalion of 42 British tanks. Also deployed was the Cavalry Corps to exploit the expected breakthrough.’

Lionel Grisdale was with these divisions. He was a Trooper with the 1st Hussars, Canadian Light horse, and part of the ‘Cavalry Corps’.

Canadian Light Horse, 1918

Canadian Light Horse, 1918

Lieutenant George Stirrett was a troop commander in the 1st Hussars. He wrote a detailed account of the activities of the Canadian Light Horse throughout the war. When we get to the summer of 1918 he tells us:

At the end of July, 1918, in preparation for the Battle of Amiens, the Canadian Light Horse was ordered to move by night to Saleux, south of Amiens. Here we were broken up and a squadron attached to each of the attacking brigades. LCol Leonard took command of the Hotchkiss Gun Detachment (18 guns) which worked along the Amiens – Roye Road and helped maintain liaison with the French on the right.

During the early part of August I was attached, with my troop, to the Canadian Third Divisional Headquarters. As the attack should be on August 8th, the Brigade Major came to me and said that the first thing they had to do was to get over a small creek about ten feet wide. There were three bridges in the Third Division sector. Our job was to determine as soon as possible after the attack started, whether or not these bridges had been destroyed. As soon as this was determined, my troop would have to deliver messages to the advancing elements of Third Division. That was right at dawn.

By 9:00 A.M., the brigade Major came to me and said, ‘Stirrett, we’ve got so far that they have passed their objectives. Now we have lost our troops and haven’t any communication with them.’ He said that I was to take all the men I had and send them out. They were to try and contact anyone from the Third Division and bring back a message telling where they were and what they were doing. There being not yet any radios and the signals had not yet had time to get out their signal wire. We spent the rest of the day trying to contact advancing elements…

The next day, August 9th, Skirrett tells us:

We got a report that a German artillery unit had disappeared into a hollow about a mile away. A squadron of the Scots Greys was in the area and was asked if they wanted to go after these Germans, who were to the right, on the French side of the road. The Scots officer said that he could not go. Lieutenant Freddy Taylor, a First Hussars Officer, and a bit tight at the time, commanding the 1st troop, took five men and headed out towards where the Germans had been seen…

Germans at Amiens

Germans at Amiens

Trooper Grisdale was one of these five men who headed out with the ‘tight’ Lieutenant Taylor.

They found the Germans about 2000 yards ahead of the advancing French infantry. It was a German artillery ammunition column, hidden in an excavation, and their horses had nose bags on as they were on a rest stop. One man held the horses while Taylor and the others moved forward with their rifles to the edge of the bank. From there, they were able to shoot every horse and a few men so that the German column couldn’t move. Then Taylor said every man for himself, and to get back the best way you can. They went back, losing one man while two were wounded.

I’ll come back to Skirrett’s account soon, but let’s continue with the account of these events written by James McWilliams in his book Amiens: Dawn of Victory:

“On the extreme right flank where the 5th Canadian Mounted Rifles advanced along the Amiens – Roye Road there occurred an incident, insignificant strategically but typical in many ways of the events of Friday, August 9. The 5th had by-passed Arvillers, a town to their right in the French sector, and assisted by four tanks had pressed on to take their own objective, Bouchoir.”

“The French south of the road had been stopped in front of Arvillers despite the support of Brutinel’s Independent Force. Around 5:00 the men of the two motor machine gun batteries fought their way into Arvillers and captured twenty-five prisoners… The 5th CMRs, looking over their right shoulder and seeing groups of the enemy retreating from Arvillers in the French sector, dispatched a platoon and one tank to occupy and mop up the village at 5:30.”

At 5:40, in the words of the War Diary of the 5th CMR.

A considerable number of enemy vehicles (a German ammunition convoy, as it turned out) were noticed retiring South eastwards from Southern outskirts of Arvillers. This was pointed out to a squadron of Imperial Cavalry who had just moved up in close proximity to our H.Q., and we suggested that they could with very little difficulty, make a good capture, but they were either unable or unwilling to seize the opportunity.

The Wrecked Church of Arvillers

The Wrecked Church of Arvillers

“Instead, five volunteers from the Canadian Light Horse offered to tackle the ammunition convoy. Lieutenant F. A. Taylor and his men had been sent forward from Brigade Headquarters to deliver a message. Now Taylor, Sergeant Duncan, and Privates Dudgeon, Grisdale and Hastie mounted and galloped to a line of old trenches south of the road. There they dismounted and worked their way along the trenches.”

Here we can hear what Lieutenant Freddy Taylor himself wrote about what happened:

I decided to rush the convoy and left the trenches. Some resistance was offered so I opened fire and shot the officer and 12 or 15 men. The remainder, about 20 men, surrendered. Heavy rifle and M.G. fire was opened on us from the trenches so we seized the lead horses and rushed them toward our own lines. The enemy advanced some machine guns within 400 yards and as I realized there was no chance of getting the convoy clear, I shot some of the horses and rushed my prisoners into the trench… as a body of the enemy were advancing with the intention of cutting us off.

Canadian Troops at Amiens 1918

Canadian Troops at Amiens 1918

McWilliams continues:

Meanwhile another platoon of the 5th CMR and a tank had been dispatched to help the five Light Horsemen bring in the captured ammunition convoy. But while they were on their way the French put down a belated rolling barrage on Arvillers where the CMRs first platoon was mopping up with the aid of a tank. Both platoons and both tanks were hastily recalled. Taylor and his four men were split up and forced to abandon their prisoners. When they reached Canadian lines, two were missing – Hastie and Grisdale. It is believed that Grisdale stayed with his wounded comrade. That night a search was carried out and the body of Private Hastie was found having apparently died of wounds. There was no trace of Grisdale.

And thus it was that Trooper Lionel Grisdale died: staying behind to help a wounded comrade.

There is one final thing to add. There were several versions of these events, though not regarding Lionel’s death. Lieutenant Skirrett writes:

LCol Leonard asked me to determine exactly what had happened and to determine whether or not Taylor should get a decoration. After I turned in the full story, Taylor was awarded the Distinguished Service Order (DSO) and the surviving men… were awarded Military Medals (MM). When I had talked to the men involved, each had told a different story, as if they had not all been in the same place at the same time. They all said they had never seen anything so ridiculous or so foolish in the whole war. I conclude that I thought the whole action quote reckless.

Whether Lionel’s father Mayor Frederick Grisdale knew these scanty facts regarding his son’s death three years later when he unveiled the cenotaph in Thorold, I don’t know.

What about Frederick’s other and older son Arthur? As I mentioned, Arthur had joined the 8th Battalion of the Canadian Field Artillery as a Gunner. He died on the killing fields of the Somme, ‘near Courcelette’ on 4 November, 1916. Maybe I’ll tell his story later.

William R Grisdale was an English-born coal miner who had arrived in Bellville, St Clair County, Illinois before the Civil War, and had then served and fought in three separate Illinois infantry regiments until the Union forces were victorious. He then was part of the Grand Review of the Union armies, which paraded in front of President Andrew Johnson in Washington in May 1865. I’ll tell this story at a later date. Here I’d like to jump forward to 1878, when William was about 52.

Grand Review of the armies, 1865

Grand Review of the armies, 1865

Sometime prior to 1878 miner William had arrived with his wife Anna Lee, whom he had married in Belleville Illinois in 1865, to work in the coal mines in Coal Greek and Stringtown, in Wabash Township, Fountain County, Indiana.

The History of Fountain County published in 1881 describes the area thus:

“String Town” is a mining place close to Snoddy’s mill. It is a collection of cheap houses mostly erected by the coal companies to be used by the miners. It is of mushroom growth, and an immense business is done, especially in liquors, there being about seventeen saloons at this point. It is hoped that the better element will become stronger, and that at some time this intemperance will cease. There are about 600 men employed in the mines, and the demand for coal is far beyond the ability to supply on account of the scarcity of conveyance. There are religious organizations here, but mostly composed of foreigners engaged in mining.

Map of Wabash and Coal Creek

Map of Wabash and Coal Creek

It was a rum old place and life was hard for the mostly ‘foreign’ miners. In the excellent Black Coal Miners in America: Race, Class and Conflict, 1780 – 1980, Ronald Lewis tells us the story of some events in Coal Creek in 1878.

At Coal Creek Indiana… black imports were brought in to break a strike of the Miners’ National Association in 1878. It was not long before violence erupted between local residents and some of the new arrivals. On April 18 a company of militia retired to a local saloon after drilling all day. When an altercation occurred between them and several of the scabs, the militia men grabbed their firearms, shot four blacks to death, and wounded a white blackleg named “Buffalo Bill”. The incident quickly polarized the contending factions in the dispute, and the passions of local white citizens were fanned to a white heat. As a precaution, the operators placed seventy-five rifles in the hands of the black scabs with directions to defend themselves if threatened. From the white unionists’ point of view, importing blacks was a loathsome act, and arming them was dangerous, but when the company began to pay the scabs in the all-white town of Knightsville, they added insult to injury by bringing the pariahs into unavoidable contact with the white miners’ families.

Tensions were heightened to the point of explosion the following month during the trial, when Frank Kelly, the leading witness for the defence of the white militiamen, passed several black miners and, without a word drew a revolver, shot one of them dead, and wounded two others. Pursued by the armed blacks, Kelly then ran up a ravine where he took refuge in a friend’s house. The irate blacks surrounded the building and peppered it with bullets, wounding Kelly and another of the occupants. A major race riot appeared imminent as forty-five blacks from Joliet set out for Coal Creek to help the outnumbered blacks defend themselves, but a large number of deputized citizens intervened and arrested the principals in the affray.

The other ‘occupant’ of the house where Kelly sought refuge was William Grisdale, who, as mentioned, was wounded by the black miners.

Indiana Coal Miner

Indiana Coal Miner

Following the events in April when a company of local militia had ‘shot four blacks to death’, we know that Frank Kelly had been the ‘leading’ witness for the defence of the militiamen. We even know the names of three of the four black miners killed: Philip Cozzens, Thomas Cooper and John Miles. It seems that there were fourteen white militiamen who stood trial for the murders, and one of these was William Grisdale. Reporting on the acquittal of the defendants in Covington, the Rochester Independent wrote on 4 May 1878 that William Grisdale was accused of killing Thomas Cooper but despite the fact that the judge probably believed him to be guilty he was released on bail. So the black miners probably held a grudge against William Grisdale as well as Frank Kelly.

Returning to events in June, The Huntington Democrat reported on 20 June 1878:


The Troubles between the White and Colored Miners in Fountain County Renewed. A Bloody Riot Inaugurated by the Black Blood Hounds. A War of Races.

By Telegraph to Indianapolis Sentinel.  Covington. Ind, June 15.

The trouble between the white and colored miners broke out afresh this morning at Coal Creek, 10 miles from here. At 11 o’clock the people living In the vicinity of McVey’s saloon were alarmed by shots being fired from guns in the hands of the negroes who came running down the street whooping and hallooing “kill every damned white son of a bitch there is”. The first person who they met in their road was one Frank Kelly whom was a very important witness for the white miners in the trial for the killing of Phil Cozzens last April. Kelly was standing in front of Russell’s store when he was charged upon by ten or twelve negroes armed with Springfield and Henry rifles, who opened fire upon him, and were soon joined by 20 – 30 or more, all fully armed and equipped.

SO ENTIRELY SUDDEN AND UNEXPECTED was the attack that no time was given to effect an escape; but heroic as a martyr he stood his ground, and only fled after emptying the contents of his revolver at the infuriated mob. Three of his shots took effect in as many different negroes. Tom Mims received a wound in the left side, passing through his bowels, from the effects of which he has since died. The other two were only slightly wounded. Immediately after Kelly had emptied his revolver he, with old Billy Grysdale, attempted to seek shelter and safety in the house of Charles Habberton, but with no degree of success, for after gaining an entrance and locking the doors and windows he went up stairs where Grysdale received a wound in the left leg, but not of a serious character.

THE NEGROES SURROUNDED THE HOUSE and completely riddled it with bullets breaking almost every window glass, one end presenting the appearance of a nutmeg-grater. One of the villains more daring than the rest forced an entrance through a window, carrying a bundle of straw saturated with kerosene, which he placed against a door and set on fire, remarking that he would scorch the son of a bitch out and get a fair shot at him, but before he could accomplish his diabolical scheme they were frightened away by the rumour that the sheriff, with a large posse from Covington, were on the road to quell the disturbance. Billy Grysdale succeeded in extinguishing the .fire before any serious damage was done and then fainted from weakness and loss of blood.

THE SHERIFF INTERFERES. At about 2 o’clock in the afternoon Deputy Sheriff Potts, with an efficient posse of twenty men, arrived on the battle field, and without more trouble, succeeded in dispersing the mob, only two or three making any attempt at resistance, but through the coolness and candour of T. M. Rinn and Peter C. McMahon all were disarmed and arrested. Up to the present forty have been arrested, mostly negroes; also Henry Phelps, bookkeeper, and John Barrowman, pit boss of the Fountain coal company, who are now having a hearing in the courthouse.

THE TROUBLE BEGAN more than a year 1 ago, but nothing of a serious nature transpired until last August, when the negro miners made a raid on Stringtown, but did not do any damage beyond frightening the women and children. The trouble last April culminated in a riot, in which three negroes were killed and one wounded, for which fourteen of the white miners were indicted, but upon trial were not convicted. Since then the more desperate of the blood hounds have made repeated threats upon the lives of those who were discharged, saying that if they wanted to live many more days they had better get out of town. Only last week two boxes of arms were shipped to S. W. Phelps, superintendent of the Fountain coal company and marked “DIAMOND DRILL.” This morning 45 negro miners from Brad wood, Illinois, were received by Phelps, most of whom were armed before they had been in the town 20 minutes, and a number have been identified as participating in the shooting. The people of Covington and the surrounding country are on the tiptoe of excitement, but should any further attempt at lawlessness be made there is a sufficient number ready and willing to squelch it. At 10 o’clock everything is quiet. The town is being patrolled by the Wabash guards, under their leader, Captain James Tipton. They are armed with the improved Springfield rifles. The sheriff and assistants have returned with seven or more prisoners, all negroes.

Black Coal Miners

Black Coal Miners

Here we hear again about ‘Old Billy Grysdale’ who had sought ‘shelter and safety in the house of Charles Habberton’, only to ‘receive a wound in the left leg, but not of a serious character’. ‘Billy Grysdale succeeded in extinguishing the fire before any serious damage was done and then fainted from weakness and loss of blood.’

According to this report Frank Kelly was ‘standing in front of Russell’s store when he was charged upon by ten or twelve negroes armed with Springfield and Henry rifles, who opened fire upon him’. This reporter portrayed Kelly as being ‘heroic as a martyr’ because ‘he stood his ground, and only fled after emptying the contents of his revolver at the infuriated mob’.

We get a somewhat different, and perhaps fairer, version of events that day from a report in The Republican which also appeared on 20 June:

Another miners’ outbreak occurred at Coal Creek, Fountain county, last Saturday, in which one colored man, named Thomas Mims, was killed, and two colored men and two white men slightly wounded. There are many conflicting statements in regard to the origins of the affray. The negroes say that Frank Kelley, the man who gave the testimony that resulted in the acquittal of the rioters who were arraigned for the murder of Philip Cozzens, last April, commenced the firing without any provocation, and mortally wounded Mms, and slightly wounded two others, after which they ran to their houses, got their guns and pursued him to Habberton’s house, where he took refuge, and they continued firing until he and a man named Grysdale were slightly wounded. Kelley says that he had been threatened with death if he passed between two rows of houses, where he has been in the habit of passing, that he was met by several negroes, who ordered him back and threatened to kill him, he drew his revolver, but before he could use it, was shot in the left arm, that he then fired, mortally wounding Mims. Twenty-nine negroes and eight white men are under arrest. The real cause of the trouble seems to be a determination to drive out the negroes who are working at less wages than the old miners were willing to take.

Also on the 20th June, the Logansport Pharos reported that ‘a warrant was issued against over 30 people for the shooting of William Grysdale’. It referred to 6 other white men being arrested for the killing of John Miles and Thomas Cooper and noted that they were 6 of the 14 who were acquitted last quarter of the killing of Phillip Cozzens.

Things did start to get better in Coal Creek. Ronald Lewis writes: ‘By the following year, however, circumstances in the Coal Creek district had improved dramatically. A union official wrote in the National Labor Tribune that he and a fellow organizer had stopped at Coal Creek, he was proud that:

Organization is progressing there even beyond our most sanguine expectations among both white and colored, for now the two colors meet on the most fraternal terms, and all express their firm determination to pull together and work in harmony for the future, without any distinction of color. This is as it should be, for our interests are identical. We must meet the colored men on fraternal terms, for we must not elevate ourselves by trying to keep them down. We must try to bring them up to our level, and it will not take so great an effort as many might imagine, for to our shame be it said, the colored men (according to their chances) are ahead of our white men in the principles of organization, and they do not seem to be so much afraid of it.

Walnut Hill Cemetery, Belleville

Walnut Hill Cemetery, Belleville

And this is more or less the last we hear of Old Billy Grysdale; almost but not quite. William continued to work as a miner in Indiana despite his wound, but by November 1883, aged about 56, his hard life had caught up with him, and from Indiana he applied for a US Civil War Pension, writing his name William R Grysdale. All his Civil War service is listed on his application. When and where William died isn’t known, it was probably a little before 1890, because on 13 October of that year his wife widow Anna, now back in her home town of Belleville, Illinois applied for a Civil War widow’s pension. Anna died in Belleville on 4 Dec 1895 and is buried in Belleville’s Walnut Hill cemetery.

I’ll return to William’s mining life in Belleville and his Civil War at a later date. There is in fact a link with the first US coal miners’ trade union:

Belleville Illinois around 1865

Belleville Illinois around 1865

‘In 1861, a group of miners met at Belleville, Illinois, and established the American Miners’ Association. This organization was the first nationwide union for miners in the United States. During this period, mineworkers faced numerous difficulties. During the late 1800s, industries were in great need of coal, iron ore, and other raw materials. Many mine owners saw an opportunity to garner great wealth by paying their miners low wages, while supplying other industries with raw materials. Mineworkers commonly earned less than one dollar per day for a twelve to fourteen hour workday. Workers also routinely received no health insurance, workers’ compensation, or vacation time.

To protest the poor conditions, workers formed unions, such as the American Miners’ Association. Before this point, numerous miners belonged to local unions, where the workers of a single mine or for a single company might have formed a collective bargaining organization. The American Miners’ Association hoped to unite miners across the United States together to bring more pressure on mine owners to improve conditions. In 1864, the American Miners’ Association published the following song to publicize its views:

Step by step, the longest march
Can be won, can be won;
Single stones will form an arch
One by one, one by one
And, by Union what we will
Can be accomplished still
Drops of water turn a mill,
Singly none, singly none.

Despite its lofty goals, the American Miners’ Association had limited success…  As a result of its poor membership, the American Miners’ Association ceased operation in 1868. Over the next several decades…, organizations, such as the Ohio Miners’ Amalgamated Association and the United Mine Workers, experienced greater success in uniting miners together.’

In the late 1830s and early 1840s three young brothers attended school together in what would become, but wasn’t yet, the Canadian city of Winnipeg. They were pupils at the Red River Academy, the first school established in the Red River Settlement, an area of Manitoba where Lord Selkirk had established English and Scottish farmers. These settlers in the Red River area weren’t however the first people there. The indigenous peoples, mostly of the Cree and Ojibway tribes, had been there for a long time. There were also the Métis, people of mixed race – French/Indian or British/Indian – who mostly worked for the Hudson’s Bay Company in the fur trade. It was for the children of these people that the Red River Academy was started.

On land granted by Selkirk to his settlers for religious and educational purposes the Reverend John West of the Church of England founded in 1820 the church of St. John. This was located about two miles below the Forks on the west bank of the Red. The mission gave rise to the Red River Academy, later St. John’s College. It was established for the training of a native ministry and for the education of the sons of Hudson’s Bay Company employees.

Red River Academy

Red River Academy

The three brothers were called Thomas, John and William Bunn. They were the only children of the Métis, or ‘half-breed’, couple Dr John Bunn and Catherine Thomas, who at the time lived in the small Red River Settlement of St. Paul, known as Middlechurch. Catherine’s father was Welsh but her mother Sarah was a Cree Indian. Dr John Bunn’s father was English, but his mother Sarah McNab was a Scottish/Indian Métis.

All the boys’ family were or had been employees in one capacity or another of the Hudson’s Bay Company. Dr John Bunn was the first native-born doctor to practice medicine in the Red River Settlement.   His English-born father Thomas was employed as a writer by the Hudson’s Bay Company at the company’s York Factory (trading post) in Manitoba.

Young John was well cared for by his father and by his Scottish grandfather, John McNab, a surgeon and the chief factor at York Factory. Thanks to their generous assistance, he attended a good school in Edinburgh and then began to study medicine at the University of Edinburgh. ‘In 1819, when he had only two years’ medical training, not enough to graduate, he was persuaded by McNab to accept a position as surgeon at Moose Factory. Upon reaching Moose Factory in September of that year, Bunn had grave misgivings about the wisdom of his grandfather’s decision in sending a not yet fully qualified doctor into the wilderness of Rupert’s Land. Uneasy as he was about his future, during the next five years Bunn gained considerable experience by serving the HBC as a surgeon at several posts as well as on the company’s ship, the Eddystone.’

York Factory 1812

York Factory 1812

John’s entry in the Canadian Dictionary of Biography continues:

With no real taste for a nomadic existence, Bunn in 1824 left the HBC service and moved to the Red River Settlement to begin a private medical practice. Here, in the vicinity of Middlechurch, he lived with his father who had retired two years earlier. Here too, on 23 July 1829, he married Catherine Thomas, the daughter of his father’s close friend Thomas Thomas, a former governor of the Northern Department. Because of his family connections and his professional status, Bunn was able to move easily in the influential circles of Red River society. A witty, good-natured, and vigorous man, with a dark complexion and a handsome bearing, Bunn the doctor was as popular with the HBC establishment as he was with the half-caste population of the settlement.

Feeling the need to upgrade his qualifications, Bunn again attended the University of Edinburgh during the 1831–32 academic session, and returned to Red River in 1832 not with a degree but as a licentiate of the Royal College of Surgeons at Edinburgh. He was happy to come home to his wife Catherine who had cheered him with her affectionate letters while he was abroad. A little over a year after his return, on 3 Jan. 1834, came her death, and he never remarried. He and his three small boys… continued to live comfortably in his father’s household which was ably managed by his halfbreed stepmother Phoebe Sinclair Bunn.

Dr John Bunn

Dr John Bunn

With the lack of European women it was fairly common, in fact usual, for English and Scottish employees of the Hudson’s Bay Company in the remote west of British North America to take  native Indian wives, marriages often entered into via a native ritual and thus not recognised by the Church of England. The same was true, and for a much longer period, of the French fur trappers, voyageurs and traders.

There is much more to tell about this fascinating man, but our concern here is with his sons. When the three boys were pupils at the Red River Academy the headmaster was John Macallum who came to Red River in 1833 as a schoolteacher, working at £100 per annum at the academy. In 1836, having married one of his mixed-blood students, he became headmaster in 1838 and having initially leased the buildings from the HBC, which owned the property, he eventually purchased the school for £350 in 1841.

Under Macallum’s guidance it (the school) maintained a high level of excellence. During his tenure courses were offered in Greek, Latin, geography, Bible study, history, algebra, writing, and elocution.

It was later said that Macallum’s school ‘prepared a goodly number of postmasters, clerks and future chief traders and chief factors’ for the HBC and that he was a ‘conscientious and faithful worker”, but who ‘perhaps over-estimated the use of the rod’.

John Macallum

John Macallum

He was in fact ‘a strict disciplinarian, with a strong sense of morality’.  Despite his own marriage to a mixed blood girl, if Indian or mixed-blood mothers were not formally married he refused to allow them to visit their children at the school. One contemporary commented on this policy as being ‘fearfully cruel for the poor unfortunate mothers did not know that there was any distinction’. Macallum was also ‘an exponent of corporal punishment, he employed a rod more than three feet long’.

Such was the school life of the three Bunn brothers. Their mother would likely have not been allowed to visit them if she had lived; unfortunately she had died in 1834 when the boys were still very young.

The third and youngest brother, William, died in 1847, aged just fourteen. Thomas was the oldest son; he was born in St Paul in 1830 and was to go on to great things. Second son John, who was born in 1832, never achieved any fame, but it was one of his daughters who would marry into the family of the Bolton-born future Bishop of Qu’Appelle John Grisdale.

Thomas Bunn (third from left back row) with Louis Riel (meddle second row)

Thomas Bunn (third from left back row) with Louis Riel (middle second row)

Having left school Thomas Bunn first remained in St. Paul where he married Métis Isabella Clouston in 1854. Three children followed until Isabella’s untimely death only three years later. He then moved to the nearby St. Andrews where he married Rachel Harriot in 1859. Eventually he moved further up the Red River to St. Clements near Selkirk. He became a member of the Church of England and a freemason. ‘He was able, therefore, to have some influence in the Indian community and to enter English society in Red River. In January 1868 Bunn was appointed a member of the Council of Assiniboia and held this office until the council ceased to function in September 1870. On 17 Dec. 1869 he succeeded W. R. Smith as executive officer of the council with a salary of £100 per year.’

Here a little history is called for. It explains Thomas Bunn’s involvement in the ‘Red River Rebellion’, better said the Red River Resistance:

In 1869 Louis Riel had begun to organize resistance to the transfer of the North-West to the dominion of Canada without prearranged terms. Bunn was elected a representative from St Clements to the council of English and French parishes convened on 16 Nov. 1869 to draw up terms for entry. He hoped for a united front to negotiate these terms of union with Canada. Most English settlers, however, were disposed to think that Canada would be just, and if it were not, that Great Britain would ensure a fair settlement. Many English were willing to support Riel’s policy of union through negotiation, not so much because they thought negotiation was necessary, but because they hoped thus to preserve peace in the Red River Settlement. Bunn tried indeed to pursue an intermediate position, and the strains were sometimes great. By accepting Riel’s policy, Bunn, in a sense, made himself Riel’s English half-breed lieutenant, despite the fact that there was no bond between the men.

On 19 and 20 Jan. 1870, a mass open-air meeting was held to hear Donald Alexander Smith, commissioner of the Canadian government. Bunn was chairman of the discussion. It was decided that a convention should be held to prepare terms for negotiations with Canada, and that delegates should be elected. Bunn was one of those appointed to a committee to arrange the elections. He himself became a delegate from St Clements. From 27 January to 3 February, the convention prepared a second list of rights and approved the formation of a provisional government. Riel made Bunn secretary of state in the provisional government.

On 24 August the military forces of the crown under Colonel Garnet Joseph Wolseley reached Upper Fort Garry (Winnipeg) and the provisional government was swept from power. Bunn survived its fall and may have been present at a meeting of the Council of Assiniboia which Wolseley revived in an attempt to settle the situation. Indeed, Bunn continued as usual in Red River society and set out to establish himself in the new order. As a man of some education and a fluent speaker with a judicious cast of mind, he decided to go into law. He was called to the bar of the new province of Manitoba in 1871, and was clerk to the First General Quarterly Court held in the new province on 16 May 1871. St Clements returned him as its first member to the provincial Legislative Assembly on 30 Dec. 1870. Thus Bunn’s career decidedly bridged the way from the old order to the new. His early death in 1875 cut short his passage into it.

During all this time that Thomas Bunn was becoming a prominent local politician and being involved in events that shaped the history of Canada, his brother John was pursuing a much more humdrum career as a ‘clerk’ with the Hudson’s Bay Company – exactly the sort of role that the Red River Academy had been founded to prepare such Métis children of the company’s employees for.

St Paul's Anglican Church

St Paul’s Anglican Church

But John didn’t enter the service of the HBC until 1867 when he was 35. What he did before that is unknown. All we know was that he married Jemima Clouston in St Paul in 1859 in his home settlement of St. Paul. Jemima was the sister of Isabella, John’s brother Thomas’ wife. Eight children were to follow, the first few born in St. Paul, the reminder at the various HBC trading posts John was posted to. Between 1867 and 1878, John was a HBC clerk in three factories or trading posts in the remote and wild west of the country: Lac Ste. Anne, Fort Victory and Bow Fort. In 1878 he retired back in the Red River Settlement and ‘died after a brief illness that year’. His wife Jemima was to live until 1888.

It is with his daughter Annie Bunn that we are concerned with here. Annie was born in 1866 in St. Paul in the Red River Settlement but, as we have seen, she spent most of her childhood living with her family in various remote HBC factories. In her 1885 ’Declaration concerning her claim to participate in any grant to Half Breeds living in the North West Territories’, she stated, ‘I lived with my parents in the north West Territories from 1867 to 1877’. I will return to this declaration later.

Following her father’s death, Annie continued to live in St Paul’s with her mother and siblings. In 1891 we find her living with her sister Isabell and brother William in the growing city of Winnipeg. It was probably in Winnipeg that Annie met her future husband Joseph Grisdale.

Bishop John Grisdale circa 1900

Bishop John Grisdale circa 1900

Here we have to leave the Métis world of the Red River Settlement and go back a little to the grim world of the Lancashire cotton mills in England. I have previously written three pieces about a Bolton cotton bleacher called John Grisdale who was first a missionary in India before coming to Manitoba in 1873, and who eventually was to become the Anglican Bishop of Qu’Appelle. (See here, here and here). During one of his many trips back to England in 1882/3 John discussed Canada with his brother Joseph, who was at that time a ‘railway clerk’ in Bolton. When John returned to Canada in 1883 his brother Joseph came with him. At first Joseph lived with his brother John in Winnipeg. In 1883 John was a canon of St. John’s Cathedral in Winnipeg and a Professor of Theology at St. John’s College (the successor to the Red River Academy). But in 1894 he had been appointed dean of Rupert’s Land. In 1891 we find Joseph living with his brother and his family in comfortable circumstances in Winnipeg. No doubt with his brother’s help Joseph was now a ‘Bank Manager’.

And so it was that in some way at some time bank manager Joseph Grisdale met and fell in love with Annie Bunn. They married in Winnipeg in 1893. We can only wonder if Dean Grisdale officiated at their wedding.

Private Percy John Grisdale (1896-1916)

Private Percy John Grisdale (1896-1916)

Initially the family stayed in Winnipeg and had two children there: Percy John Grisdale in 1896 and Eveleigh Grisdale in 1899. In the 1901 census Joseph and his family are still in Winnipeg and Joseph is said to be an ‘accountant’. But sometime prior to 1904 the family moved north up the Red River to Selkirk where two more children were born: twins Edwin and Roland in 1904. The family continued to live in Selkirk until sometime after 1911, Joseph still being a bank manager. But they soon moved on, to Calgary in Alberta. In the 1916 census we find the family living in Calgary with Joseph listed as a ‘bookkeeper’. Son Percy is listed too, but he is said to have been overseas. You can read his story here. Eventually, sometime after 1921, Joseph took his family to Vancouver, where he died in 1950. I don’t know where and when Annie Bunn Grisdale died.

At the end of the eighteenth century the pressures forcing rural people off the land were reaching a peak. One of the few options besides emigration and joining the army was to move to work in the dark satanic mills. In the north of England this often meant the cotton mills of Lancashire. Several Grisdale families from Matterdale followed this route. This is the story of just one of them. It is also a story of how part of the family then emigrated to Pennsylvania and from there, via Montana and the coal mines of Iowa, to Oregon in the Pacific Northwest. A story of pioneers maybe and a little example of “How the West was Won”.

The story is best started with Thomas Grisdale, who was born in Matterdale in 1772, the eighth and penultimate child of Joseph Grisdale and Ann Temple. Sometime in the 1790s Thomas  moved to Bolton in Lancashire (then called Bolton Le Moors); he married an Elizabeth Crossley there in September 1796. Between 1799 and 1817 they had nine children in Bolton. The fifth of these, born in 1809, was called Doctor Grisdale – for reasons that are not known. It is he who we will follow to America.

The industrial revolution was getting under way and Lancashire villages were being transformed from small rural settlements into huge cotton producing centres. They quickly became massive sinks of misery, squalor and exploitation for the rural poor – who were to become a new urban proletariat. They were to remain so throughout the nineteenth century and well into the twentieth century.

An early Power Loom

Thomas became a cotton weaver. Whether at first he was a hand-loom weaver or whether he started work immediately on one of the new power looms that had recently been invented and patented by Edmund Cartwright we don’t know. Hand loom weavers were a type of urban working class elite and they could earn good wages for their skills. But once mechanised power looms were introduced demand for hand weavers fell and their numbers dwindled. It was precisely against the brutal and inequitable effects of this process that the original Luddites were to fight and this certainly in and around Bolton. One of the most infamous repressions of the Luddite protests took place in nearby West Houghton in 1812. Garth Ratcliffe in the ‘The Burning of Westhoughton Mill by Luddites in 1812’ writes:

On Friday afternoon April 24th 1812 a mob of Luddites from Chowbent/Atherton attacked Westhoughton Mill, a cotton weaving mill situated opposite the White Lion Inn. This Mill was one of the first steam driven in the locality. The Mill was broken into and set fire to and burned down. The Scots Greys stationed in the area, rounded up the suspects who were identified by various witnesses from Hag Fold and other areas of Chowbent which is only about 2 miles from Westhoughton.

The suspects, who were mainly disaffected weavers, were “examined” by Ralph Fletcher and other magistrates and subsequently taken to Lancaster Castle prison to await trial for the charge of burning looms and a factory.
In addition, there were other Luddites mainly from Bolton town centre, who were charged with various aspects of “illegal oath taking/attending illegal meetings”.

Both sets of Luddites were tried on 23rd May 1812 and the results of the trail sentenced four men to be hanged and nine others transported to Australia for seven years.

The executions were at Lancaster Castle. The transported prisoners were taken to Portsmouth to await the next ship to Australia which took about 8 months.

These prisoners had to work for seven years on govt projects or for a landowner. After this period they could apply for ownership of land.

Luddites in Bolton in 1812

Maybe Thomas Grisdale witnessed this? If not he certainly will have heard about it because it was his fellow weavers who were killed, executed and transported to Australia.

But with the Luddite protests crushed by the army and militia, the grim life of the power loom weavers in Lancashire went on. In 1841the family are still working in the cotton mills: Thomas, now aged “65”, living with two of his sons, and Doctor Grisdale with his young family. They were all “cotton weavers”.

Doctor Grisdale had married Mary Greene and their son Thomas was born in 1839. Another son called Joseph was to follow in 1842.

Anybody who would like to get a flavour of the unimaginable squalor and poverty experienced at this time in the Lancashire mill towns would be well advised to read Frederick Engels’ “The Condition of the Working Class in England” published in 1845. Engels had visited Bolton on more than one occasion and made this comment:

Among the worst of these towns after Preston and Oldham is Bolton, eleven miles north-west of Manchester. It has, so far as I have been able to observe in my repeated visits, but one main street, a very dirty one, Deansgate, which serves as a market, and is even in the finest weather a dark, unattractive hole in spite of the fact that, except for the factories, its sides are formed by low one and two-storied houses. Here, as everywhere, the older part of the town is especially ruinous and miserable. A dark-coloured body of water, which leaves the beholder in doubt whether it is a brook or a long string of stagnant puddles, flows through the town and contributes its share to the total pollution of the air, by no means pure without it.

Such was the place in which this Grisdale family lived and worked.

A Delaware Woolen Mill

Some were destined to suffer this cruel fate for decades to come, but some tried to get out. Doctor Grisdale was one of these. Some Lancashire weavers had already emigrated to the United States, there to help in the development of America’s cotton and woollen mills. One place where they had ended up was in Pennsylvania and it was to there that Doctor and his young family headed. They boarded the ship Plymouth Rock in Liverpool and arrived in Boston on 16 January 1850. Just months later the family were established in Upper Darby. Delaware, Pennsylvania, and Doctor was working as a weaver in the mills. Local historian Thomas J. DiFilippo tells us this about Upper Darby:

The growth rate of the township changed about 1830 when textile making moved from the homes into mills. Before 1830, the spinning of yarn and the weaving of cloth was mostly performed at home by the women and primarily to satisfy the family’s needs. About 1830, some old grist mills were converted to spin yarn that was sold to individuals who wove their own crude cloth. About 1840, the mills became “integrated,” meaning they spun the yarn from raw material, then wove, finished and dyed the cloth. This was the beginning of a prosperous large textile industry in Upper Darby that lasted into the mid-1900s.

What became this country’s massive textile industry began in New England then spread to the Delaware Valley. Philadelphia became a major textile center with many mills in Germantown, Manayunk, Kensington, and Blockley. Realizing the potential market for textiles, descendants of the Garretts, Sellers, and Levis, followed by the Burnleys. Kellys, Kents, and Wolfendens, built or converted to textile mills. This expansion occurred after the flood of 1843 because that event destroyed nearly everything along the creeks.

Most of the mills employed Immigrants from England, Northern Ireland, Scotland and later Irish Catholics. Although the managers and skilled workers were male, the laborious jobs were performed mostly by women and children. The mills owned the nearby “mill houses” and rented them to their employees. Workers were expected to follow the politics of the mill owners. Very few owners had compassion for the workers and thus the working conditions were poor, the salaries meagre and the working hours long. These conditions bred frequent labor disputes and were the cause of the early child labor laws and unionization.

By 1860 the family had moved to the mills in nearby Upper Merion, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, where Doctor was still employed as a weaver in a woollen mill. What happened to Doctor Grisdale and his wife in the few years after 1860 is unclear, I’ll mention his death later. But the family’s long trek from Bolton to the west coast of America was only just beginning.

A Coal Mine in Oskaloosa. Iowa

What is clear is that Doctor’s son Thomas set off west, probably accompanied with his American born sister, Mary Ann. Perhaps Doctor’s son Joseph had already died? In 1862, Thomas married a very young Elmira Jane Clements, who came originally from Porter, Indiana. Their first child, Dora Mae Grisdale, was born in Montana Territory in 1868. But in 1870 the family was living in Oskaloosa in Mahaska County, Iowa. Thomas was now a “Miner” living with his family and his sister.

Mahaska County was rich in bituminous coal and in the 1870s coal mining became part of the local economy. In 1883, the area had 38 mines and an annual output of over a million tons. In the prime days of mining, Mahaska County surpassed all other Iowa counties in tonnage and number of mines. The advent of transcontinental railroads was also a boon to Mahaska County. The locomotives moved coal out of the area year round as demand for coal increased.

The earliest settlers mined coal among the hills of south central Iowa. They used coal to heat their homes and cook their food in areas were timber was not available.

Not until 1870 did the industry of coal mining begin to rapidly grow in Iowa. By that time the major Iowa railroads reached from the Mississippi River in the east to the Missouri River in the west. The railroads leased land in coal producing areas and operated mines which produced coal for the use of the railroads. These were the largest and most productive mines in the state.

We are also told the following about the Iowa mines of the time:

Usually a coal camp had several hundred small homes, a company store, a tavern or pool hall, and a school. Most coal companies required that miners shop only at the company store which sold everything from “cradles to coffins.”  Most mining families didn’t like this restriction. Because the average coal mine lasted only ten years, little care was given to the appearance of these camps

The history of one of these mines tells us:

One of the best remembered and most unusual coal camps was located in Monroe County in southern Iowa. Buxton, as it was called, was a thriving coal community during the early 1900s.

At first the camp was located at what was called Muchakinock about five miles south of Oskaloosa in, Mahaska County. For at least two years mining was good in this area. But then in 1875 labor troubles began. The workers went on strike. In 1881 black workers recruited from the south were hired as strike breakers.  In a few years the mines of Muchakinock were nearly exhausted. The Chicago and Northwestern railroad, which owned the Consolidation Coal Company, bought more land south in Monroe County. The community moved south where they began to build the town of Buxton.  It was named after J.E. Buxton, the superintendent of the Consolidation Coal Company.

Buxton was a thriving community for at least twenty years. By 1920 the mines began to run out of coal. By 1927 the last mine was closed. Buxton soon became a ghost town like the many other mining camps dotting central Iowa.

We don’t know how long Thomas and Elmira were in this Iowa mining community, their second daughter, Mary Lucinda, was born in Montana in 1870 and by 1873 their third child Thomas Edward was born in Oregon, so maybe they were just passing through? However I think it likely that they remained until at least 1878 because on 25 April in that year Thomas’s father Doctor died and was buried in Oskaloosa. Perhaps he and his wife had come to join them. In any case Oregon was the family’s next stop in the great move west. In 1880 we find them in Roseburg, Douglas County, Oregon with several more children. Thomas’s sister Mary Ann was also there, having by this time married Timothy Ford. But also Doctor Grisdale’s widow Mary had moved with them to Oregon. Thomas was working as a “Brick Maker”. He then moved to Bridgeport, Baker County, Oregon with more of his children and was listed there in the 1900 US Census as a “farmer”. So maybe after more than a century it was back to the land!

The grave of Doctor Grisdale’s widow Mary In Oregon

Thomas Grisdale was still living in 1903 because he paid a substantial council tax in Baker, Oregon, in 1903; but his mother Mary died on 26 June 1901 and was buried in Lone Fir Pioneer Cemetery, Portland, Oregon, as was his sister Mary Ann Ford. Something of the immediate history of Thomas’s family can be found on my (evolving) tree on Ancestry; although I have yet to find Thomas’s own death or that of his father Doctor. Thomas’s wife Elmira had married Amos Carson following Thomas’s death and died in 1940 In Baker County, Oregon.

I know this little history is somewhat lacking in detail and is rather skeletal, but it is, I think, another interesting example of the spirit of endurance and survival of so many English people trying to make a better life for themselves and their families – wherever in the world they had to go to do this. The Grisdales in this respect were no different to thousands or millions of others. But I don’t apologize for this. This family is after all the subject of this site. Sometimes I think that while this is family history it is perhaps something more. It can illustrate important social, economic and political realities about English history and the history of the English-speaking world.

Finally, although many members of this Grisdale family were to stay in Bolton (and their stories are interesting too) one other son of the Thomas Grisdale who came from Matterdale, a brother of Doctor, and also called Thomas (1804-1879), also led a very adventurous life. He found his way to Madras in India (possibly with the British Army) and from there, with wife and children, to Melbourne in Australia.

In an earlier article I left the Bolton cotton bleacher and Indian missionary, the Rev. John Grisdale, at Liverpool docks in late April 1873. He was waiting with his new wife Ann and their infant son Robert Chaplin Grisdale to take ship to New York, from where they would travel overland to Rupert’s Land in Canada. Within a month they had arrived at the Church Missionary Society’s church of St. Andrews in the Red River Settlement.

The Manitoba Historical Society has this to say about John’s clerical career in Canada:

John Grisdale (1845-1922). Cleric.

Born at Lancashire, England on 25 June 1845, he spent five years in the C.M.S. College at Islington, London. He was ordained deacon in St. Paul’s Cathedral in June 1870. He then spent a year doing missionary work in India, returning due to ill health. There he married Annie Chaplin. In May 1873, they emigrated to Canada and came to Winnipeg where he served as rector of Holy Trinity Church. He later held positions at Christ Church, professor of systematic theology at St. John’s College, canon of St. John’s Cathedral, and dean of Rupert’s Land. In 1879 he helped to found the Manitoba Historical Society.

He received a DD degree from the University of Manitoba in 1887. In 1896 he was elected Bishop of Qu’Appelle. He held the position until 1911 when he retired due to ill health. He died at his Winnipeg residence on 27 January 1922.

These are the bare facts, but let’s try to add some flesh to the bones.

St Andrew's Church, Manitoba

St Andrew’s Church, Manitoba

In my previous article I told that John was primarily a missionary. He had trained with the Church Missionary Society (CMS) in London for five years before being sent to India where eventually the climate had proved unconducive to him. The CMS was primarily concerned with converting the ‘heathens’. By the way, the word ‘heathens’ was the one used by the CMS, whose whole purpose, which was very explicit, was to convert the native “heathens” – the religious care of colonists generally being left to the SPCK (Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge and the SPG (Society for the Propagation of the Gospel), although the lines were often blurred. It was in this capacity that the CMS had sent him to Rupert’s Land. One month after leaving England, he and his wife and young son Robert arrived at the CMS mission in the Red River Settlement at St. Andrews, where his job was to be ministering to the Anglo-Métis community there.

As soon as he arrived John immediately wrote to Mr Wright, the secretary of the CMS in London:

St. Andrews, Lisgar, Manitoba, May 30, 1873.

My dear Mr. Wright

We arrived here on Saturday last, exactly a month from the date of sailing from Liverpool.

We are each of us in moderate health, and do feel deeply grateful to Him who has so abundantly answered the prayers of our many friends at home.

Our heavy luggage has not yet reached us, so that we feel a little unsettled.

The Bishop has himself instituted me at once, so that on Sunday I hope to have two services in the Church and one in the northern school. Dear Archdeacon Cowley has just said ‘Goodbye’ and is on his way to the Indian Settlement. He must have toiled very hard, too hard, during the vacancy. McDonald and Rayner have not yet reached us. The boats are going in about a fortnight. I hope shortly to write to you more fully.

With … Love and earnest prayers for God’s blessing on the Committee’s ‘plans & proceedings’.

Very truly yours

John Grisdale

Bishop Robert Machray

Bishop Robert Machray

The ‘Dear Archdeacon Cowley’ John refers to was Abraham Cowley who had first come as a CMS missionary to the Red River Settlement in 1841 and was by this time based at the ‘Original Indian Settlement of Western Canada’: St. Peter’s (in present-day Dynevor). The Bishop who had ‘instituted’ Grisdale was Robert Machray, who had been made Bishop of Rupert’s Land in 1865 and was to become the first Primate of All Canada in 1893. Machray would be John Grisdale’s friend, mentor and sponsor for many years.

Although John’s primary role was to minister to the Anglo-Métis community in St. Andrew’s, he obviously from time to time went to preach to the native Indians living at St. Peter’s Indian settlement, a thing he was to continue to do even after he had been elevated to higher positions within the Anglican Church. See for example my story of Alex Grisdale and his grandfather here.

But Bishop Machray had plans for the future organization of the Anglican Church in Rupert’s Land.

Owing to the statesmanlike plans of Bishop Machray, of Rupert’s Land, it was decided to divide the vast district, comprising more than one-half of all Canada, into separate dioceses. The Bishop realized that more effective supervision was needed in the large field, as the distances were too great for one man to think of undertaking. The distance from the Red River to the farthest posts on the Mackenzie River was as great as “from London to Mecca,” and it would have taken him two years to visit the northern posts with profit. Crossing to England, the Bishop set forth the proposal for the division of his diocese into four parts, which was accepted by all concerned.

The reduced Diocese of Rupert’s Land would comprise the new province of Manitoba and some adjacent districts; the coasts and environs of Hudson’s Bay would form the Diocese of Moosonee; the vast plains of the Saskatchewan, stretching westward to the Rocky Mountains, the Diocese of Saskatchewan; and the whole of the enormous territories watered by the Athabasca and Mackenzie Rivers, and such part of the Yukon basin as was within British territory, the Diocese of Athabasca.

The first St. John's Cathedral in Winnipeg

The first St. John’s Cathedral in Winnipeg

Machray also became the warden and headmaster of St. John’s College in Winnipeg in 1874 and he immediately made John Grisdale the Professor of Systematic Theology. And then on the 2nd of November 1874 Grisdale was made a canon of St. John’s Cathedral. Bishop Machray gave a long sermon in the cathedral on Grisdale’s inauguration. He said:

To those of you dear brethren who are Parishioners of St. John’s, the induction of Mr Grisdale can scarcely fail to have a lively interest, for in becoming one of the pastors of the Collegiate Church that has been established here – the Mother Church – the Cathedral Church of the Diocese – he will in a peculiar degree be a pastor of St. John’s Parish, as it is still intended that the Cathedral should partake of the character of a Parish church.

John’s rise had been rapid, all this had happened in eighteen months or so from his arrival in Canada. In 1875 Canon Grisdale was made secretary of the ‘First Provincial Synod of the Ecclesiastical Province of Rupert’s land’.

Holy Trinity Anglican Church in Winnipeg in 1884

Holy Trinity Anglican Church in Winnipeg in 1884

As canon of St. John’s Cathedral, John took an interest in rebuilding Holy Trinity Church as well. He was appointed Rector of Holy Trinity:

On 8 April 1867 some of the residents of the small hamlet at the confluence of the Red and Assiniboine Rivers met in the Court House to organize a parish, and a building committee was appointed. At first, religious services were held in the Court House, just outside the enclosure of Fort Garry, and afterwards in the upper level of Red River Hall near the corner of what are now Portage Avenue and Main Streets. The large numbers of people that crowded into this fragile structure required the use of wooden poles as temporary supports for the floor to prevent the assembled congregation from falling into the store below. The small congregation commenced work on building their own church at the corner of Avenue and Garry Street on land donated by the Hudson’s Bay Company. However, the enterprise was thwarted by a violent windstorm that destroyed the incomplete structure and killed a workman who was sleeping there overnight. Starting over, the congregation successfully completed a simple and unpretentious wooden structure that was opened for public worship in two services on 4 November 1868. The first vestry of the church that was constituted five days later included the rector, The Venerable Archdeacon John McLean, and other prominent members of the community.

By 1870 the church was already too small for the expanding congregation, so steps were taken to enlarge the building to accommodate 350 persons; this was accomplished by Christmas Day of that year. A later cleric, Rev. Canon Grisdale of St. John’s College, promoted a new church with a capacity for 450 worshippers; it was opened on 11 November 1875, when Rev. O. Fortin was inducted by the archbishop of Rupert’s Land, but only the chancel and transept were completed at that time.

John was also instrumental in founding Christ Church in Point Douglas, Winnipeg:

Christ Church began in 1875 as a Sunday school started by Rev. Canon J. Grisdale in the home of W.G. Fonseca in the Point Douglas district. The Sunday School was moved to a log building, known as the Sutherland House on the northeast corner of Henry Avenue and Main Street. Land was purchased from W.G. Fonseca in 1876 at the corner of Princess and Main. There a brick church was built and opened on 13 August 1876. The parish of Christ Church was officially formed that year as well. A new church was built on the corner of Princess and Higgins in 1881. It opened for service 24 November 1881.

When the church was first opened in 1876 the local newspaper carried this report:

Christ Church, Point Douglas

This handsome little Church will open for Divine service tomorrow afternoon, at half-past three o’clock, when the Lord Bishop of Rupert’s Land will preach. Rev. Precentor Beck will preside at the organ, and will be supported by a choir of St. John’s College boys.

A little more than a year ago the Rev. Canon Grisdale bought the block of land on which the church now stands for the Church Missionary Society, London; last year a substantial fence was put around it, also at the cosy of the Society; and this spring the church about to be opened was put up.

The cost of the building, exclusive of the inside fittings and furniture, was $2,300. Of this sum $300 has been received from England, and Rev, Canon Grisdale is confident that he will shortly receive the balance from the same source.

The building is 46 by 26 feet, built of wood with a veneering of white brick. It is intended as soon as the population of the city shall warrant it, to put up a large and substantial church edifice of either brick or stone, when the present building will be used as a school house.

Rev. Canon Grisdale went about the work of building this church in a quiet and unostentatious way, feeling that there was a need of a church in that part of the city where it is situated and he expresses himself gratified at the liberality with which he has been met on every hand. The carpet for the chancel and vestry rooms is a rich Brussels, of a pattern that corresponds finely with the inside painting, and is the gift of the Hon. Mr. Graham, Chief Commissioner of the Hudson’s Bay Company. Messrs. Higgins, Young and Peebles present a beautiful crimson communion cloth. Two oak chairs for the chancel are the gift of Mrs. Wm. Besant. McMicken & Taylor give two four light chandeliers; and Kew, Stobart & Co. Furnish the necessary cocoanut matting for the aisles. A small harmonium made by Prince of Buffalo, was paid for by the contributions of Mrs. F. C. Mercer and Mr. W. H. Lyon, but it has not yet come to hand. Instead of a reading desk and pulpit, there is a double lectern, of oak, contributed by Bishop & Shelton; and the Bible, Prayer Book and Service Book – all beautifully bound – are the gift of the English Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. The organ to be used tomorrow has been kindly lent for the occasion by Messrs. Cornell & Clements dealers in musical instruments in the city.

The contractor for the building was Mr. J. J. Johnston; the painting was done by Mr.Peter Stanley; the upholstery by Bishop & Shelton,; the seats were made by Mr. Henry Sellick; the windows and doors are from the shop of Messrs. Brown and Rutherford; and the two elegant designs in stucco are the work of Mr. Moulds. The doors and windows are in the gothic style – the chancel window in particular being a rich design and of excellent workmanship. The main window is 11 by 4 feet, and is composed of two gothic windows, surmounted by a circular window composed of eight concentric circles diverging from a common centre. It is intended to put stained glass into this window – an improvement which will add much to the appearance of the church.

Hereafter Sunday School will be held every Sunday afternoon at half-past 2 o’clock, and Divine service will be held by Rev. Canon Grisdale, Incumbent, at half-past 3 o’clock.

It is expected that a balance of about $250 will remain due on the inside fittings, and to aid in reducing this debt a collection will be taken up at the close of the service tomorrow afternoon.

From his earliest time in Canada, John started to make many trips back to England. Often he was sent to London to try to raise money for the church in Rupert’s Land, including money to help rebuild Holy Trinity Church. But he always took these opportunities to visit his parents and sibling in Bolton. In 1883 he even took his two children, Robert Chaplin and Alice, back to England to visit his family, including his parents who both lived until 1897. Later, in 1888, he was also back in Bolton and conducted the wedding of his younger brother Levi.

As already noted, in 1879 John was one of the 26 original founders of the Manitoba Historical Society. Here is an account of the Society’s first meeting when Canon Grisdale was certainly present:

On the appointed night, the old City Hall on Main Street was “completely filled” by a distinguished audience which was said to include “much of the worth and intelligence of Winnipeg.” The citizens parked their carriages and tied their horses on either side of the wide, rutted street and jumped onto the board sidewalks, boot heels ringing in the frosty air ignoring the shouts from several nearby taverns, they entered the lamplight at the door and mingled with the other leaders of Manitoba society. It was an exciting evening, precisely because it was all so new. Manitoba itself seemed a new world. Of the old-timers, McTavish of the Hudson’s Bay Company was gone, James McKay of Deer Lodge was on his death bed, and Louis Riel, now in exile somewhere near the Missouri River, was little more than a name. With few exceptions, these citizens had arrived in the province within the decade. To them an old-timer was John Christian Schultz, who had come to Red River in 1859, or Jim Ashdown, who had walked from St. Cloud to Red River in 1868. The number of native-born Red River citizens in their midst, like the métis Premier John Norquay, was tiny. This audience crackled with excitement because John Macoun would provide the first real assessment of the worth of their empire.

As the gentlemen settled in their oak armchairs, Chief Justice Wood introduced their guest in his inimitable prose. The burden of his message lay in a peroration that brought his listeners to life: “we are now waking up to the conviction,” he said, “that our North-West is destined to be one of the most important parts of the globe … and with the older eastern Provinces … will soon be the right arm of the British Empire.”John Macoun took up this theme where the Chief Justice had left off. He responded to the hearty applause with a few jokes, told stories about his trek across the vast plains to the west and, as everyone hoped, he provided enthusiastic reports about the potential of the prairie soil and the salubrity of prairie climate. Here was the confirmation of the best features of the Hind and Palliser reports that Winnipeggers had awaited. Macoun was assuring them that the West would soon contain an agricultural empire. His concluding comment, a statement attributed to Lord Beaconsfield, described this imperial frontier as a land of “illimitable opportunities.” His words provoked cheers from the audience.

MHS‘Among other trifling pursuits this young society set itself to build up three libraries. It organized, purchased, managed, housed and made available for the people the only public library and reading room the city had until the Carnegie library was opened. A second, the special joy of the Society’s heart, was a general reference library which included a fairly complete collection of books, historical and other, relating to Western Canada. Part of this collection went to the Carnegie reference library, and part was buried in the catacombs of the Parliament building. The third of the Society’s libraries had as its nucleus the books bequeathed by Mr. Isbister. This carefully preserved, used, and added to, was the beginning of the library of the Manitoba University.’

John’s church career and ministry in the growing city of Winnipeg continued. In 1884 he was promoted to the important position of dean of Rupert’s Land, and finally he was made Bishop of the huge prairie province of Qu’Appelle in 1896. But before this, in 1883 when John took his children back to England and when he was still Canon of St. John’s Cathedral, he must have talked with his brothers about them emigrating to Canada, because when he returned in April 1883 he was accompanied by his younger brother Joseph. Brother George arrived the next year in Winnipeg having travelled via Quebec. George had been a packer in a Bolton bleach works but became a bookkeeper in Canada, while Joseph had been a railway clerk back home but became a bank manager in Canada. I’ll tell something about them at a later date.

John Grisdasle

John Grisdasle

Dean Grisdale, as he now was, continued to be a trusted emissary and fund raiser for the diocese. Not long after Grisdale’s appointment as Dean, Bishop Machray we read:

Spoke of the place the Cathedral should hold in a Diocese, employing much the same terms and ideas he had used in setting forth his Cathedral system in 1874, when Mr. Grisdale, the Dean, had been installed as Canon He announced that while funds were not yet at his command for building a suitable Cathedral edifice, nor for the holding of daily Services, still his plans had to a large extent been realised, as the proceeds of the sale of Cathedral land, together with the endowments already formed for the Professorships in the College, now gave the means of having an effective staff–a Dean and four residentiary Canons–as well as of providing residences for them. The Dean and the four Canons would hold the Chairs of Pastoral Theology, Systematic Theology, Exegetical Theology, Ecclesiastical History, and Music respectively; he hoped to make an appointment to the last in a short time. The endowment of the Cathedral Chapter having now been secured, the next great effort at the centre of the Diocese was to be for the College, which needed a new building. He stated that Dean Grisdale was to proceed to England to try to raise an Endowment Fund for teachers in Arts, which also was necessary.

To assist Dean Grisdale, who left Winnipeg for London in the summer, the Bishop issued a circular, drawing attention at some length to the growth of Manitoba and the North-West, and the consequent needs of the Church. Winnipeg, the capital of Manitoba, was becoming a large place, wrote the Bishop, and was of great importance as a railway centre. East of it the Canadian Pacific Railway Company had built (1882) 450 miles of line to Port Arthur on Lake Superior, where connection was made with steamships on the Great Lakes for eastern points; and west of it the Company had constructed 450 miles of line across the prairies, and were still carrying the line westward at the rate of three miles a day. The line had gone beyond the boundary of Manitoba into Assiniboia, into which settlement was flowing to such an extent that it would be necessary to think very soon of providing a Bishop for that Territory. As regards Manitoba itself fifty-two new municipalities had been formed, and in thirty-eight of them, embracing over 700 townships, each comprising 36 square miles, there was no resident clergyman of the Church, while in several other municipalities, each with from twelve to forty townships, there was only one clergyman.

Returning to John’s irresistible rise:

Upon the death of Bishop Burn (in 1896), Dean Grisdale, of Winnipeg, was chosen successor, being the first Bishop of Qu’Appelle to be elevated to such dignity by the authorities of the English Church in Canada. He was fortunate in having as co-workers a corps of faithful and industrious priests, among whom may be named Archdeacon Dobie, Archdeacon T. W. Johnson, Canon Beale and the Rev. M. McAdam Harding. Thanks to the strenuous labours of these and other clergymen under Bishop Grisdale’s leadership, his episcopate was prosperous in the extreme. By 1906 the diocese contained sixty-seven churches and more than thirty-three hundred members of the Anglican communion, served by forty-eight ordained clergymen and twenty-four lay readers. By 1908 there were eighty-two churches, thirty-nine rectories and vicarages and eight parish halls.

Today the small town of Qu’Appelle in southern Saskatchewan isn’t of any great importance (except to those living there), but in the nineteenth century there were great hopes for the settlement. It was for a time the terminus of the Canadian Pacific Railway and the major distribution centre for what was then the District of Assiniboia in the North-West Territories. Qu’Appelle had at one stage been credibly anticipated to be the major metropole of the North-West Territories by both the federal government and the Church of England. In anticipation of Qu’Appelle’s future urban importance the Church had designated it the cathedral city for the new Diocese of Qu’Appelle, which geographically corresponded to the District of Assiniboia.

Political events, however, passed Qu’Appelle entirely by when Lieutenant- Governor Edgar Dewdney selected the locale of his own landholdings at Pile-O-Bomes (then re-named “Regina”) as his Territorial capital: Qu’Appelle’s significance… then largely lapsed.

Bishop's Court, Indian Head, Qu'Appelle Diocese

Bishop’s Court, Indian Head, Qu’Appelle Diocese

When John Grisdale became Bishop the pro-Cathedral church was St. Peter’s in Qu’Appelle which had been built in 1885 one year after the appointment of the first Bishop Adelbert Anson. The diocese briefly operated a training facility for Anglican clergy in the town and the St John’s College Farm, a model farm immediately to the west of town. Bishop Burn, Anson’s successor, ‘closed both of these facilities in 1895’. Burns also moved the Bishop’s Court or Palace to Indian Head. When Grisdale arrived the he too would live in the imposing Bishop’s Palace at Indian Head, although he would later move to the provincial capital of Regina where he established St. Chad’s College in 1907 for the training of students in Divinity. It also was recognized by the Provincial University and carried affiliation status. ‘In 1964, Emmanuel College and St. Chad’s College were amalgamated under the name of the “College of Emmanuel and St. Chad,” thus establishing on the Saskatoon Campus one college for the training of ministers for the Anglican Church of Canada.’

This is not the place to retell the story of the diocese of Qu’Appelle but some flavour is given by Trevor Powell in Building ‘a Holy Catholic Church’ on the Prairies:

REGINA  Cross, candles and flowers on the altar, intonation of the service, surpliced choirs, liturgical colours – very much part of Anglican services nowadays, but more than 125 years ago such outward expressions of traditional Catholic worship created a deep rift among Anglicans in England and overseas. Division between those of the Catholic and Evangelical traditions manifested itself not only in worship, but also in other aspects of church life – theological education, forms of ministry, missionary work – to name a few.

The Diocese of Qu’Appelle was no exception. Of the Catholic tradition, Bishops Anson (1884-1892), Burn (1893-1896) and their clergy, emphasized sacramental worship and ceremonial. These innovations to varying degrees were to be found in mainline parishes such as Moosomin, Grenfell, Qu’Appelle, Moose Jaw, Swift Current and Maple Creek, and with the advance of the railway to Saltcoats, Churchbridge, Estevan and Oxbow. Not everyone was pleased with such changes. Opposition by the congregation of St. Paul’s, Regina, to candles on the altar led Anson to ask the people of St. Peter’s, Qu’Appelle to become the pro-cathedral.

During Grisdale’s episcopate (1896-1911), a different course was pursued. To meet the spiritual needs of a growing and scattered population after the turn of the century, he invited clergy, theological students and lay workers of the Evangelical tradition to minister to settlers. Students from Wycliffe College, Toronto, served the missions of Condie, Foxleigh and Winnetka north of Regina. The Colonial and Continental Church Society took charge of a vast area on either side of the CPR main line from Caron to Herbert. Missioners reported to the Society that they had laid the foundation for a strong Church based along Evangelical lines at Morse, Herbert, Elbow, Mortlach, and Caron.

While pleased with the inroads made into what it had hitherto considered a Catholic preserve, the Society was not given further territory by Bishop Harding (1911-1934). Instead he brought in clergy of a strong Catholic tradition and through St. Chad’s Theological College ensured that candidates for ordination received a similar grounding. New mission fields were given to the Railway Mission brotherhood which used the expanding railway network as the chief means of bringing the sacraments to the newcomers. Like Anson and Burn, Harding unswervingly upheld the tenets of the Catholic faith and successfully led the diocese through war and peace followed by the Great Depression and the ravages of drought. He and his successors thus ensured that the Diocese of Qu’Appelle maintained its strong Catholic identity which set it apart from other prairie dioceses.

The ‘evangelical’ John Grisdale retired from his Bishop’s duties in 1911 ‘due to ill health’. He lived out his retirement with his wife in Winnipeg.

What sort of a man was Bishop John Grisdale? We can infer things from his career of course. There are many records of his work in Canada and even the story of his conversion of an Ojibway Indian (see here), and I even have a few of his letters sent to the CMS in London. But what was he like as a man? Perhaps one indication is the story he chose to tell when he himself was nearing his death in Winnipeg. This story was published in Winnipeg in 1937 by Kathleen Blanchard and was called, by her, The Gossamer Thread. It seems that when Bishop Grisdale was nearing his death he asked Wilfred Thomas, the Bishop of Brandon, to come and visit him. He then told him a story. Bishop Brandon wrote in the Foreword to The Gossamer Thread:

… It was while the good Bishop was living in retirement, and very shortly before his death, that he related to me the reminiscence which now finds the light of day in the pages of this little book Inasmuch as I was charged by the Bishop to keep the story alive and to make it known, I now owe to the writer a debt of much gratitude for fulfilling his wish in this commendable form. I earnestly hope that it may help to bring back to recollection some memories of one who loved to spend himself for others, and who in turn was loved by all.

Wilfred Brandon. Bishop’s Lodge, February 18, 1937

Kathleen Blanchard begins:

It was a festive night at our Parish hall in Winnipeg. We had gathered from far and near to hear an address by the newly consecrated Bishop of Brandon. We knew what a good speaker the Bishop was, and the story he told us was so remarkable that it is worth recording.

“When I was Archdeacon,” began the Bishop, “I was living very near to Bishop Grisdale. On morning early, the telephone was insistently ringing. I hastened from my bed to answer it. It was Bishop Grisdale’s nurse, who said, ‘Will you come over as soon as you can, the Bishop has something to tell you?’ Replying that I would come at once, I dressed hastily and was soon there.

“The Bishop was obviously pleased I had come, and said at once, ‘My dear Archdeacon, I sent for you early as I feel I have not much longer to live and I have been dreaming and thinking the night of a strange story of coincidence which I experienced years ago, and which I had forgotten – until my dreams brought them all back to my memory.’

“‘I want you to take what I have to say in writing, and when I am gone to pass it on to the world.’”

What follows is as near as we will ever get to John Grisdale’s verbatim dying story, a story he wanted passed on to the world;

Years ago, when I was Dean of Rupert’s Land, I made it a practice to go to the General Hospital every Friday morning and to go the rounds of the wards there. On one of my visits I was told by one of the nurses that a young Englishman who was very ill wished to see me as soon as I arrived.

I went at once to his ward and I saw that the poor fellow was indeed very ill and that his sickness was unto death. He roused himself however and asked, ‘Sir, will you do something for me?’ I at once replied, ‘My dear boy, I will do anything you ask me to do, that I can do for you.’ The young man then said in a low voice, ‘I feel I shall never see my home again, and I want you to take down the address of my mother in the Old Country, and when I am dead write to her and say you saw me.’ Having certain small personal articles, he asked that I would send her these.

I assured him that I would do so, and immediately noted the name and address of the boy’s mother and the messages. I then prayed with him, and after a little, left him and went on my way. I asked the nurse to let me know how he was and to keep in touch with me at my home.

I did not go straight home that morning and was a later than usual getting back, when I did so I found a message from the hospital waiting for me. The young man I had seen that morning had passed on soon after I left.

I felt very touched by the sad incident of the day and determined that I would do all I could. As I was Dean I had the privilege of choosing any plot of ground for a burial. I chose a spot not far from the east window – under a tree – and arranged for the body to be brought down to St. John’s. I buried him there. The day was beautiful, and after I had taken the burial I gathered some leaves from the tree over the grave and enclosed them in a letter to his mother, telling her all about the incident, as I had promised.

In due time I had a letter from his mother thanking me for all I had done, and enclosing to me the sum of twenty pounds with which to put up a small stone in the form of a cross, and asking me to put the following upon it:

‘Name – When born – When Died – and the following verse, “He brought me forth also into a place of liberty.”’ Psalm 18, verse 19.

Now I was much struck as to the reason his mother had chosen this particular line – as it was very unusual, and I pondered over it quite often.

However, it was all done as requested and the stone was put up. I often looked at it when I was passing through the churchyard – and wondered.

The years passed on. Sometime after I became Bishop, and had occasion to go over to England. During the course of my stay there I was invited to preach at Lichfield Cathedral one Sunday evening. The service commence, and the lovely voices of the choir were singing ‘He brought me forth also into a place of liberty.’ The whole scene of years ago flashed across my mind as the beautiful music rolled around the ancient arches I was transported to the little grave in Winnipeg.

As I looked round the noble building and at the vast congregation, I saw an old white-haired lady sitting in the front row. She was singing the Psalms of the day.

The thought flashed through my mind. ‘Could that possibly be the mother of the young man I had met years ago?’ I was determined after the service to ask someone who she was.

However my duties as a preacher took these thoughts out of my head and I thought no more about it just then. While I was disrobing, however, there was a knock at the Vestry door and the verger announced that a lady would like to speak to me. I knew at once who my visitor was a. It was the old lady I had seen at the service!

She said, ‘I wish to thank you personally, sir, for what you did for my son. You did the kindest deed one man could do for another. You fulfilled his last wises, and buried him with love and kindness.’ We had a little chat, and parted, and soon afterwards I returned to Canada and my work.

While going the rounds of my vast Diocese, I was preaching one Sunday morning in a small country town. The Incumbent was out in the afternoon to take service at a big ranch some miles away. He very much wanted me to go with him, and he said the cowboys would appreciate seeing me, even if I gave them only a little talk.

I was very tired, but consented to go. I enjoyed the drive and despite the bumpy roads and other discomforts. As we journeyed along I turned over in my mind what I would say to them on arrival.

At last we were there, the men were all assembled and the service had begun. Once again the singing commenced. Being the third day of the month, they came to the verse ‘He brought me forth also into a place of liberty!’ which as they sung, seemed to take volume and roll around me until the air was full of music.

I was spellbound. There and then I decided that I would say nothing of what I had prepared, but I commenced telling them of the singular coincidence of that particular verse of the Psalms and of all it reminded me of.

After the service was over, I was sitting on the veranda of the ranch, pondering over the happenings of the day, when the owner came up to speak to me, and said ‘That strange coincidence that you were telling us of, was even stranger than you thought, sir, for it was from this house he was taken to hospital, and it was to this house he first came to from England!’ And this was the singular end of my strange experience – it had following me to its conclusion.

Kathleen Blanchard added at the end: ‘Stranger indeed than fiction – like a gossamer thread.’

John Grisdale, the son of a Bolton cotton weaver, who had started his life as a cotton bleacher, died on 27th January 1922 in Winnipeg, a retired Bishop aged 76.

And memory gently takes our hand

And leads us by a silken thread

To recollections’ pool

K Blanchard


Bishop John Grisdale circa 1900

Bishop John Grisdale circa 1900





In 1816 Gideon Grisdale was only about twelve when he arrived with his family in Canada. The family were early settlers in North Monaghan, Ontario and I told something of their journey from Cumberland and their early years in Canada in a previous article. This is a brief story about Gideon (and later about his son who was also called Gideon) after he moved to help build a canal.

Gideon Grisdale Senior

Gideon was born in Carlisle, Cumberland, England in 1804, he had been named Gideon after his father Wilfred’s brother.   

Building the Welland Canal

While some of Gideon’s family remained in and around Peterborough County for a long time after the family’s arrival in 1816, he, together with his brother James, soon sought work elsewhere. It was probably in the late 1820s or maybe the early 1830s, when Gideon was in his early or mid twenties, when he moved to Allanburg in Welland County, near Niagara and the American border. Allanburg was at first a shanty town which had sprung up to house the mostly English and Irish workers who had arrived to build the first Welland Canal linking Lake Erie with Lake Ontario. A village was later laid out in 1832 by Samuel Keefer and originally named Allanburgh to honour two men: William Allan, a Toronto banker who was vice-president of the Canal Company, and John Vanderburgh, the first settler. On November 30, 1824, approximately 200 people gathered near Allanburg to witness the sod-turning for the construction of the canal.

The construction of the Canal was beset with challenges and underwent several revisions of its route, but a mere five years after incorporation, on November 30, 1829, the first vessels passed up the completed canal from Port Dalhousie to Lake Erie.

It is highly probable that it was to find work as a labourer on the canal that Gideon trekked from the forests and lakes of Peterborough County all the way to Allanburg. Besides to work on the canal there was no other reason to go there. Gideon probably first lived in the shanty town.

The life of the canal builders was hard. We are told that “undoubtedly the most challenging part of the entire project was digging through the earlier miscalculated 18-metre height of land between Allanburg and Port Robinson”.

This involved excavating a cut of more than 3.2 kilometres in length, at times to a depth of 21 metres from which over 760,000 cubic metres of earth were removed.

The construction was very labour-intensive, with from 250 to 600 men being employed at one time, at a wage of 63 cents a day.

The work was very heavy and difficult, accomplished by human brawn helped only by crude tools and animals. The earth was loosened by pick and shovel, moved from the excavation site by wheelbarrow and then loaded onto ox-drawn carts, or wagons pulled by horses.

If the banks were too steep for the animals to climb, mud had to be shovelled into sacks and with much struggling carried to the surface upon men’s backs.

The work was not without danger. Unstable soil, some sources even describe quicksand, was encountered in many places. Rock had to be drilled by hand and then blown apart by gunpowder. The company once boasted that there had only been three deaths “in a considerable period of time.”

Disease also took a heavy toll. Due to the conditions of moving huge quantities of wet earth, many labourers fell ill with fever. Cholera, likewise, was a grave problem.

Even the work animals suffered. Numerous oxen were killed sliding down the steep banks that became slippery after heavy rains, and many horses died from injury and infection.

Work continued on a southern extension, which was finished in 1833. In the same year Gideon married  Mary Ann Green (called Ann). Two children followed: Gideon Junior in 1835 and Robert John in 1837, both born in Allanburg itself. We next find the family in the 1850 Canadian census in Thorold, in which Gideon is listed as a labourer. Whether he was still labouring on building canals we don’t know, although the second Welland Canal which had been started in 1841 was still not fully completed.

In 1860 Gideon was to be found back in Duoro Peterborough County. He was widowed and living with his farmer nephew Wilfred McCue. How long he stayed in Duoro isn’t known, it’s also unclear how long he had lived in a house his son had bought and sold to him in Allanburg. The Thorold records contain information regarding the purchase of some land and a house in Allanburg, right next to the canal, in 1857 and 1860:

On 20 Jul 1857 (Reg 22 Jul 1857) John Harper et ux sold to Gideon Grisdale ½ acre upon which is erected and known as All Nations House in the Village of Allanburg in Allanburg in Lot 119 Thorold Twp. For £300.

Three years later Gideon Junior sold this to his father:

On 16 Jun 1860 (Reg 26 Jun 1860) Gideon Grisdale Jr. sold to Gideon Grisdale Sr. ½ acre in the Village of Allanburg in Lot 119 Thorold Twp. for £300.

So it seems that Gideon’s son Gideon Junior had by the age of 23 been able to buy land and a house which he sold three years later to his father for the same amount he had paid.

This piece of land had an interesting history. Originally it was part of William Hamilton Merritt’s large plot called “Lot 119”. Part of this land he sold to Captain Ogden Creighton, whose widow Eleanor Creighton sold it to John Harper in 1854. It was from this John Harper that Gideon Grisdale Junior bought the land and house before selling it to his father.

An early survey map of the first and second Welland Canal in Allanburg drawn in the 1860s clearly shows a John Harper’s Tavern on the canal as well as a Lock Tender’s House, both in Lot 119.

In any case by 1881 at the latest Gideon Senior was back in Thorold and continued to live there, possibly (but by no means certainly) in All Nations’ House in Allanburg, until his death from diarrhea in September 1889. This is his obituary:

Welland Tribune, September 27, 1889, p. 4.
Gideon Grisdale, Sr., aged 86 years, died at the residence of his niece, Mrs. Tewsley, Low Banks, on Sunday. His body was interred here on Tuesday. Mr. Grisdale has resided in this section about fifty years and for a long time lived at Allanburgh. He served twenty years as locktender, and was employed on the first Welland Canal that was excavated. Deceased was father of Messrs. Robert Grisdale of this place and Gideon Grisdale of the Ontario police, Niagara Falls.

Gideon Grisdale Junior

Turning now to Gideon Junior, from his birth in 1834 until his death sometime after 1891 but before 1901, Gideon Junior lived in and around Allanburg and later in Port Robinson, in Welland. The censuses always refer to him as a “carpenter”. His work very probably was also connected to the canal.

Gideon Grisdale Junior married Margaret Bell in 1856 in Niagara, Canada. They were to have four children: William (1857), Margaret Ann (1859), Alexander Latimer (1861) and Gideon Chatfield (1863).

Perhaps we will never know much more about Gideon Junior’s life, unless his descendants have kept stories or have documents, but as we have seen he had done well enough by 1857 to buy land and a house.

Yet there was one incident where we know that he was present and that was the “Battle of Fort Erie” on June 2nd, 1866. This was a small side event in what have become known as the Fenian Raids.

When the American Civil War ended, the “Fenian Brotherhood, who were based in the United States” started to raid “British army forts, customs posts and other targets in Canada to bring pressure on Britain to withdraw from Ireland”.

Canadian Militia during the Fenian Raids

While these raids, which lasted from 1866 to 1871, were perhaps not of great import in the larger scheme of things, they were to be of great significance to the development of Canada’s own national identity. I will not recount the history of the raids as there are many excellent telling of the events. Suffice it to say that usually a mixture of regular British/Canadian troops and locally raised Canadian militia generally saw off the Irish raiders. Except that is for a defeat on the 2nd June, 1866 at the “Battle of Ridgeway”.

Before news of this rare Canadian defeat became known orders were given for the tugboat W T Cobb to embark. Gideon Grisdale was a Sergeant in the volunteer Welland Field Battery and he was aboard the Cobb. One history of what happened puts it as follows:

In response to the Fenian occupation of the township of Fort Erie, Ontario on the night of June 1, 1866, militia units throughout the Niagara Peninsula had been mobilized or put on alert. At Port Colborne a detachment of 51 gunners and N.C.O.s, British Royal Artillery bombardier Sergeant James McCracken and 3 officers (Captain Richard S. King M.D., Lieutenants A.K. Schofield and Charles Nimmo [Nemmo]) taken under command by Lieutenant-Colonel John Dennis, boarded a tugboat, the W.T. Robb carrying the Dunville Naval Brigade, consisting of 19 men and 3 officers (Captain Lachlan McCallum, Lieutenant Walter T. Robb, Second Lieutenant Angus Macdonald) (a total of 71 men and 8 officers) and steamed east to the Niagara River, then scouted downriver as far as Black Creek. The Welland Field Battery did not have its four Armstrong guns with it, and were only half armed with Enfield muzzle-loading rifles while the other half with obsolete smooth-bore “Victoria” carbines that had a limited range of approximately 300 yards at best.

The Fenians apparently gone, Dennis turned back upriver to secure the village of Fort Erie and deny them an easy escape route. Dennis and a company of the Welland Field Battery, landed without difficulty, rounding up a number of stragglers. But when John O’Neill returned with the bulk of his force from his victory at Ridgeway, the volunteers – expecting to encounter only scattered bands of defeated Fenians under close pursuit – were unable to resist them. A fierce firelight followed, in which the militia soldiers and sailors were swept off the shores by the better-armed Fenians and most of the Canadians who had landed were captured. While his men were making their stand, Dennis ran away on foot and hid in a house, shedding his uniform and shaving off his luxurious sideburn whiskers. He would later be court-martialled for deserting his men but he was acquitted by two of the three officers serving on the tribunal.

The “Battle” of Fort Erie 1866

Gideon Grisdale had been involved in this fight and was one of those captured. (Some histories have mistranscribed his name as Griswold). They were released by the Fenians a few days later.

The last thing we know about Gideon Junior before his death in Port Robinson in October 1892 is that in 1891 he was living with his wife Margaret in Niagara Falls Town in Welland County. He was it seems by then a member of the “Ontario Police”!  How this came about is a mystery.