Historians have called the period from 1815 to 1850 the Great Migration to Canada since, during those years, over 800,000 immigrants, mainly British and Irish, came to this country. The reasons are too complicated to relate here but a combination of exploding population and lack of quality work at home made large numbers flee to the colonies in search of prosperity.
Most of my ancestors were among these immigrants. My great-great grandparents, Richard and Caroline Wright*, traveled from England to New York on a ship called the St. James in 1846, afterwards moving to Canada. Many Canadians with such ancestors have pondered the adventure of crossing the sea in the 19th century - the length of the trip, its dangers and discomforts - but have no means of learning what their ancestors encountered. But I'm fortunate, in that Richard kept a diary of his immigration experience. And I have it.
Well, not the original diary. What I have is a typewritten copy compiled by Richard's great-grandson, Horace J.Richardson, in 1947-48. The original diary is presumably in the hands of my Richardson cousins who, of course, have every right to it as they're also direct descendants. My branch of the family is quite thankful to have Horace's typewritten copy.
According to the diary, Richard and Caroline Wright, along with Caroline's sister Anne (known as Polly) and her husband, Robert Ranson, left London for New York on Wednesday, June 24, 1846 on the St. James, a packet ship** of 650 tons that made regular runs between London and New York. Its Captain, an American of German birth, was F. R. Meyer. The ship and most of its sailors were American.
Richard broke down the total number of persons on board ship:
Steerage passengers: 247
Second class: 2
First class: 8
Total passengers: 257
Sailors: 23
First & Second Mates: 2
Stewards: 2
Stewardess: 1
Cooks: 2
"Council man attach": 1***
Captain: 1
Total on board: 289
He also described his living quarters aboard ship:****
"I will give you a short account of our cabins. First its dimensions. What they call the gentleman's cabin is about 25 feet long, 12 feet wide, having a mahogany dining table with fixed cane bottom seats on each side, and sofa the whole width, and about 7 feet high. It is at the stern and lighted by four windows about two feet square looking right out to where we came from, and two skylights or hatches. Then in a line with this communicating by two doors, one at each side, is the ladies' cabin, which is the same width and about square. There are two sofas, three or four maple cane bottom chairs, and a table in representation of a loo table,***** veneered with maple rosewood and Spanish mahogany ... On each side of the cabins are our bedrooms, parted off by panel work or, as it looks, twelve doors. Between each door is an Ionic column or pilaster veneered with maple and rosewood, standing against a Spanish mahogany ground. The doors are veneered with maple, and panels the same, with a border of rosewood and mahogany molding on the door, gilt caps to the columns, and several gilt moldings in the cornice. And all wood beautifully French polished, glass knobs on the doors, mounted with silver. The bedrooms are about 8 feet square and two berths or beds in each one above the other with washstand and drawers and all complete."
As you may have guessed, he and Carrie were travelling first class. Steerage didn't have it like this. But more about steerage later.
Many of Richard's entries discuss his general experiences on board ship. On their first night: "we slept but little, being unused to hear the waves dash by our bedside and feeling our beds rock" (June 24). Life on board could be rather dull at times: "I often wish the journey was at an end, the time hangs heavy on our hands ... we keep down in the cabin till we feel bad, we go on deck and walk as well as we can til we are tired, then we sit and strain our eyes looking at the water foam and roll til we are nearly asleep, and then perhaps wake up and read" (June 30). "We have had miserable night, tossed, rocked, rolled, and bumped up against one side and the other til my bones all seem battered and bruised" (July 6).
But once in a while something happened to break up the boredom: "We had quite a new sight to-day, several fish six or seven feet long. The mate stuck the harpoon into one but it broke and the [fish] got away" (July 7).
On another occasion, the mate was more successful: "There was a very large fish seen to swim past us by one of the passengers and the second mate and five sailors were lowered down ... in the boat ... in search of him with order from the Captain. Armed with two harpoons, they went I think a mile before they got sight of him ... mate, who is an old fisherman, gave orders to use the oars so that they made no noise and so approach him, he standing with the harpoon ready to give him a stab ... the moment the fish was struck he dived down, taking the harpoon with him, which had a cord attached to it to prevent its being lost ... and the mate stood with a knife in his hand to cut the rope if the fish should begin to pull down the boat. But that was not the case for, when the fish had run the rope's length, he came up again and then they ... got a rope through one fin and dragged him along to the ship. Then I think about thirty men hauled him on deck and a monster he was, to be sure, being more than eight feet ... and weighing more than a ton. It was what is called a sunfish. And there was much chopping and cutting the poor varmint ... it was full of blood ... it ran about the deck and made it look like a butchery. The liver was all saved to get the oil from it, which is said to be a sure remedy for the rheumatic. Some of the blubber was cooked but not much eaten. All the other was tossed overboard a piece at a time, except a few small pieces which the mate is saving to dry in the sun to make balls for his children. So much for a sea monster" (July 16).
A few days later: "We have had several beautiful sights, several flying fish have been seen, and a tremendous great old shark, or, as the sailors term him, a regular old man eater. He looks very large, being nine or ten feet long with two right-up fins cutting the water as he went along" (July 19). Fortunately, no one went shark hunting!
By late July, the ship was passing near the Grand Banks where Richard noted: "As there was no wind, they sounded the depth ... which was done thus. About a stone of lead, hollow at bottom, and then filled with tallow so that they may know what sort of a bottom it is as some of it is sure to hang to the tallow. This was let down and found gravel bottom at 40 fathom. Then they went to fishing ... with a large hook baited with pork and let down." (July 26) ******
On July 27, Richard records that "Ranson & his wife ... say they would have given anything they possess'd not to have come and that they will go back as soon as they can - a poor spirit this for emigration." Perhaps the Ransons were bored on their long sea journey. Or perhaps it was the heat: "We arose this morning after having been nearly sweated into a parboiled state ... it was tremendously hot and close ..." (July 20).
Now, about meals on board. This was not a cruise ship. Nevertheless, sailing first class doesn't sound too bad: "we breakfast nine o'clock am, dine at three o'clock PM and take tea or sup at seven o'clock PM" (July 1). "They killed a pig this morning for the first time. We had some of it for dinner ... it was nice though not very fat ... we have had several chickens and always finish dinner with a dessert of some kind ... pie or tart, sweet pudding or some Yankee mess or other, so we live pretty well" (July 2). "We had a duck and green peas for dinner and plum pudding for a dessert. There is no drink allowed such as ale, wine or spirits, nothing but water unless you buy it, although it is at a reasonable price ..." (July 5). "At breakfast we always have either hot beef, pork or mutton, besides toast, pancakes and either cold ham or tongue ..." (July 9). "Our bread is good, new every morning. They have every cooking convenience that can be made in the galley, a small place built on deck in the steerage part about 8 feet square with oven boilers, steamers, roasters, fryers, and ... burners and smokers ... Our bread has always been very light. It is made, I am given to understand, with yeast powders. I don't know what they are, they are purchased in London. The bread is very pleasant ..." (July 18). Bread was of special interest to Richard, by profession a baker.
As to steerage conditions: "I went in the morning down in the hold ... it is beyond all comparison, four and five in a berth" (June 29). The passengers below "scarcely ever having any stockings on their feet and some no shirt on their back ... the men pass their time smoking, playing cards and other games." And as for their food, it consisted of "such messes as no half starved English cat would go near" (July 22). Richard and Carrie had "very good water to drink, as clear and pure as crystal, besides being cool and pleasant. I am sorry to say all on board have not the happiness to have such for, though it is clear, it don't taste well that the steerage passengers have" (July 23). And on July 27, "Many of the steerage passengers begin to fall short of food but the Captain has been very kind ... and given them several pieces of meat."
Several infants became ill and were buried at sea during the journey. On July 14: "The sea, like the land, is not proof against the unerring arm of death for, this morning about twelve AM, they cast into the mighty deep, after reading a short burial service in German, the body of an infant, five months old ... it was a poor weakly thing" (July 14). And on July 22: "This day has again been solemnized by the burial of child eleven months old with the usual ceremony." And again on July 29: "Two poor little sufferers buried today - one in the morning, the other in the afternoon. One of them, about a year old, died in the night. Such an object as I never before saw to be called a human being, it was in fact a case of moving bones about the size of baccopipes and no one would have thought it a living animal or being. The other, died in the morning, was about eighteen months old, in which there was an exact resemblance of the former. There is several more ill and I fear, if we are not soon landed, they will soon expire ... for it seems to me that they feed them on such confounded trash that the poor little things have not nutriment enough to sustain against sea air and the foul atmosphere of the steerage" (July 29).
Towards the end of their journey, Richard could see other ships bound for New York: "Scarcely any wind ... so that we move forward slowly ... the vessel we saw several days ago is still in sight and five others: one an Indiaman, a very large ship, two fishing boats going to New York, a schooner and a brig" (July 29).
But at last came the great day when "we received the joyful intelligence that land had been in sight ever since five AM. It was Long Island, which forms the harbour of New York" (Aug. 5). Still, the St. James could travel no faster than the wind: "we are quite low-spirited this morning, it being quite calm. We are now about 70 miles from New York and hope the breeze will soon rise" (Aug. 6). But at last a steamer called the Hercules towed them to New York where they arrived on August 7 at 4:00 pm.
The Wrights and Ransons had finally reached the end of their sea journey. But Carrie was not well.
Richard writes: "Many were the solicitations to go to this and that House. At last we decided to go to 89 Pearl Street. We found it a large public boarding house with accommodation for about 500 in the first of style. We see our error & my wife kept getting worse. I tried to get private lodgings but to no avail. At last was forced to find a Doctor ... and he said in a few hours all would be right. We sat up, Polly and myself and Doctor ... my wife was in extreme pain all night and many were the eyes she kept open as the House was pretty full. At twenty minutes past 3 on Saturday morning August the 8th, 1846 was blessed with the birth of a girl, a fine baby with dark hair, blue eyes and a noisy welcome to this veil of tears. Then did my wife rejoice and said 'The pain is nothing, for now I have a dear little baby.' And we named her Caroline Pearl Wright in memory of the place of her birth which was 88 Pearl Street, New York. The doctor went home, Polly went to bed and I laid down and we all three went to sleep after thanking God for his goodness towards us."
Baby Pearl was my great-grandmother.
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| Four generation photo: Richard Clutton Wright with his daughter Pearl (left), Pearl's eldest daughter Bessie and her daughter Dorothy, 1900. |
Note the discrepancy between 88 and 89 Pearl Street. Was Richard confused and stressed, after a long day on which he arrived in the New World and became a father? Or is this a typo on the part of Horace? I don't know. This document describes the buildings at 87-89 Pearl Street, now part of New York's Stone Street Historic District. These buildings do not sound like "a large public boarding house with accommodation for about 500 in the first of style." They were commercial buildings. Has Pearl Street been renumbered since 1846? I don't have all the answers yet.
Despite their sworn intention to return home, the Ransons shortly proceeded to Montreal. Perhaps once they had their feet firmly on land, they relaxed and decided to continue with Plan A. As for the Wrights: "My wife continued finely and kept every day getting stronger so that on Friday the 15th of August we were able to leave New York for Albany, after parting with about 50 dollars for expenses." From Albany, I surmise they took a passenger boat along the Erie Canal to Buffalo and crossed into Canada, although Richard doesn't actually describe this part of their journey. After the birth of his daughter, his diary entries become rare, suggesting its purpose was to keep him occupied on board ship.
One more entry of interest appears on August 22, 1846 when Richard went to work in Dundas, Ontario while Carrie and Pearl stayed elsewhere: "I arrived at Dundas and slept at the Northern Hotel kept by Barny Collins." Apparently Richard stayed at this place, established by Bernard Collins in 1841.
The Wrights had another girl and a boy upon their arrival in Canada West. Sadly, Caroline died giving birth to another child named Richard in 1852. Mother and baby are buried at West Flamborough Presbyterian Church Cemetery, a place I have visited.
Richard remarried and settled in Aylmer where he and his second wife, Mary, had many more children.
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| Richard and his second wife Mary Parmenter. |
An advertisement for his business appears in the 1877 Illustrated Historical Atlas of Elgin County:
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Richard, Mary and several of their children, are buried in Aylmer Cemetery:
Pearl and her husband John Grainger are buried in Walkerton, Bruce County.
*Genealogical note: Richard Clutton Wright (1823-1908) and Caroline Wright (1826-1852) were married in the village of Laxfield, Suffolk on September 30, 1845. Two of Caroline's sisters were married the same day in a triple wedding that was reported in The Ipswich Journal on October 11: "So unusual a circumstance attracted a great many persons; and with the merry peal from the bells, and the cheers of the assembled crowd, formed altogether a most animating scene." The three sisters were daughters of George Wright, a local farmer. Richard was a son of William Wright, George's brother, making Richard and Carrie first cousins. (Special thanks to Elizabeth Thomson for the Journal article.)
** Packet ships were mid-sized sailing ships featuring regularly scheduled service between American and British ports. The ships were designed for the north Atlantic, where storms and rough seas were common. Not designed for speed, they carried passengers and cargo and were likely the most efficient way of crossing the Atlantic at the time. Sail packets were eventually replaced by steam packets.
***Richard's exact words: "This is an American sailor brought from London to his own country by order of the Councill man of England, a man for the purpose of paying distress'd sailors passages back to their own country appointed by Government on all ports I understand do not know how true." And I don't know either.
****In these excerpts, I have updated spelling and punctuation to the standards of today. And yes, sometimes I'm guessing.
*****A table with an oval or round top and a hinged mechanism fitted to a pedestal base, enabling the table to be easily stored when not in use. "Loo" was a card game.
******Depth sounding has occurred since ancient times. A sounding line is a length of rope with a plummet, generally of lead, at its end. Regardless of the actual composition of the plummet, it is usually called a "lead." Soundings were taken to establish a ship's position as an aid in navigation and safety. Richard described the process quite accurately. Leads had a wad of tallow in a cavity at the bottom of the plummet. The tallow would bring up part of the bottom sediment - possibly sand, pebbles, clay, or shells - allowing the ship's officers to better estimate their position and provide information useful for navigation and anchoring. If the plummet came up clean, it meant the bottom was rock.
