Jewish Roots

The patriarch of all Arntfields in North America was Selig (later known as Henry) Ährenfeld who arrived
in Canada from present day Germany in 1852 at the age of 21, settling in Waterloo County, Ontario where many previous German immigrants had also put down roots. Since Selig was Jewish, something discovered only in recent decades, his 1852 arrival makes him one of the earliest Jews to have settled in Ontario.

Although Canada today is home to the fourth largest Jewish population (about 390,000) in the world, in 1851 there were only 450 Jews in the entire country, most of them in Montreal. Since in 1871 there were only 528 Jews in Ontario, over half of them in Toronto and Hamilton, it stands to reason that those twenty years earlier Selig was likely one of the first 100 Jews to arrive in the province, the earliest known not having settled there until the late1830s.

It is probably, however, a distinction that would have meant little to Selig. While his religion is given as “Isralite” on the 1871 census, that is the only Canadian census to have done so. Later census records give the religion of all family members, including Selig, as Evangelical Christian.  Having married a German Protestant once in Canada, he appears to have abandoned his Jewish faith. That no doubt helps explain why his descendants were never aware of their Jewish roots.

Archival records in Germany confirm the accuracy of the 1871 census “Isralite” notation. Selig’s parents and his then siblings are found on the 1819 census for Bützow, Mecklenberg where Selig was later born. The religion for the entire family is given as Jewish. Selig’s father was Abraham and his paternal grandfather almost certainly was Isaac whose 1821 death record again confirms that the family was Jewish. My DNA ethnicity estimate indicates that I am as a result two to five percent European Jewish.

The Ährenfelds were Ashkenazi Jews, a European Jewish diaspora who originally settled in present day France and Germany in the Middle Ages. Often experiencing persecution, much of the population over time shifted eastward until, again experiencing persecution, many chose to return to western Europe during the 18^th and 19^th centuries. It is not known if our Ährenfeld ancestors chose to remain in Germany once there or were among those who moved eastward before eventually returning.

Whatever the case, the Holocaust of World War II decimated the Ashkenazim in Germany, about 70 per cent of the entire population. No doubt some of those exterminated were unknown Ährenfeld descendants, distant relatives whose forefathers had not made the decision to emigrate as had my great great grandfather Selig had so many decades before.  It is a sobering and tragic reminder of the randomness of life and the often- profound consequences of life’s decisions.  

An Unjust Will

 Family bickering over the terms of a will is not an uncommon occurrence.  The February 2, 1860 will of James Dixon, termed unjust by some of his family, was one such case.

James Dixon Signature On 1860 Will

I have previously written about James Dixon (1771 – 1862), my earliest known Canadian ancestor who emigrated from Yorkshire about 1818 with his third wife (he was by then twice a widower) along with seven of his children.  Most of his Canadian life was spent in Etobicoke Township where he and many of his sons bought lands and farmed on what became and is still known as Dixon Road.  All Dixon farms were in close proximity to what is to-day Toronto’s main airport.

This great great great grandfather (my mother was a Dixon) would father three more children in Canada, be widowed again, and then later briefly marry for a fourth and final time.  By the time of his death he had fathered fifteen children by three different wives and seems to have also outlived his fourth wife from whom he had been separated.  Because five children had died as infants or children, four others had predeceased him as adults, and the eldest, though surviving his ninety-one year old father) had remained in England and gone his separate way, there were left only five children, three sons and two daughters, for consideration by James in his last will and testament.  His decision was to favour one to the almost exclusion of all others.

James’ seemingly harsh decision may be rooted in both the mores of the day and the personal circumstances of his son Richard (1811 – 1882) who received the bulk of his father’s estate.  In those days, married daughters tended to receive only modest bequests or legacies since their husbands were expected to provide for them.  Sons who stayed on the farm tended to inherit more than sons who did not.  In other cases, family dynamics tended to favour one particular son.  Although it is now a matter of speculation, all of these factors appear to have influenced James when he made his will. 

After rather unusually appointing four executors, James left his home farm of one hundred acres and all other property to son Richard subject to his  paying almost niggardly legacies to James’ other two surviving sons and somewhat more generous legacies to his two surviving daughters and their descendants. 

Daughters Jane (Dixon) Ibbotson (1817 – Aft 1888) and Rebecca (Dixon) Potter (1822 – 1898) were each to receive a legacy of £10 per year for life with an additional two sums of £50 to be shared equally by their children as each daughter died.  Jane had five and Rebecca nine surviving children eventually entitled to this distribution.  Since both sisters outlived Richard by many years, it fell to Richard’s heirs in later years to fulfil this continuing obligation which had been a condition of Richard’s original estate entitlement.   

Sons Anthony (1819 – 1878) and John (1809 - 1880) were each left £5 from their father’s estate of £1246/15s as their only bequest.   Anthony had forged a career as Collector of Customs at various Ontario ports and it was perhaps considered that he, reasonably well off and with no interest in farming, did not need to benefit.  John’s snub is, however, at first blush, more difficult to understand.

John and Richard were full brothers, their mother being James’ second wife.   (The other heirs, Jane, Anthony, and Rebecca were children of James’ third marriage.) John had continued with farming and in fact owned property near his father.  He also had once been quite close to his brother Richard, both for a time operating an early brewery in the area and also a lumber business.  Despite this early working relationship, the brothers eventually quarrelled and had a falling out.  Reminiscences of James’ granddaughter Rebecca (Potter) Dixon (1856 -1938) who had married her first cousin, a son of John, were as follows:

“Mother said they worked together until John was married and then they quarrelled.  The two families were always enemies. … The two wives never agreed. … ”

It may be that James took sides in this quarrel and chose to effectively disinherit John.  The more plausible explanation, however, is that he was keeping a promise made years before.  Rebecca (Potter) Dixon in her reminiscences continues:

“He (Richard) was chopping wood and cut his leg.  Old Dr. Deluke said he must have it cut off.  Grandfather begged him to (have it amputated) and said ‘Richard I will see you well provided for’.  The brute of a Doctor cut it off and never gave him anything.”

It seems that James may have simply been an honourable man making good on the promise made to his son so many years before.  Since it has also been said that Richard, as a dutiful son, kept his father in his later years, James no doubt was expressing his gratitude for this as well.  Not all the family, however, was so charitable.  The reminiscences continue.

“Grandfather left everything to Oliver’s father (Richard).  Uncle Anthony would have broken his will but Uncle John … would not help out.  He didn’t want anything; he wanted for mother and Aunt Jane. … Grandfather left mother and Aunt Jane $40.00 a year (roughly the equivalent of the £10 left under the old monetary system).  It was an unjust will.  Mother (Rebecca) thought lots of her half-brother but she never complained.”

Just how Anthony believed he could “have broken” the will” made more than two years before James’ death is unclear. Although the family never seems to have ever suggested that there was testamentary incapacity, it may be that there was some unproven belief that coercion or undue influence was involved.  Although this is unlikely, it must be said, however, that the will is in some respects unusual The daughters and grandchildren benefitting under the will all lived in the United States and had done so for a good part of, and in some cases all of, their lives.  Their contact with James would have been minimal.  Other grandchildren, the issue of sons who had predeceased James, all lived nearby but received nothing. 

James Dixon Estate Inventory

Although James’ testamentary motivation may never be conclusively known, a probated copy of the will found in the Public Archives of Ontario, provides an interesting glimpse into the contents of James’ estate.  The most significant asset was the one hundred acre home farm (Lot 21, Concession 2, Etobicoke Township) which was valued at £1200.  The remaining £46/15s, of which £33 was claimed for rents due (likely some of the farm was rented out), is no doubt consistent with the modest belongings one would expect of a retired elderly farmer living with his son.  The inventory of personal effects was meticulously set out right down to a sugar kettle and a dung fork.   His most valuable belonging was a clock valued at £5.

The real estate Richard was fortunate enough to inherit stayed in his family for almost a century as a working farm.  Sometime during the 1950s his heirs sold it just as development along Dixon Road was starting.  No doubt they and all those Dixon relatives who did not benefit under the so called “unjust will” would to-day be staggered by the value of James’ modest one hundred acre farm and its nearby neighbour, Canada’s busiest airport.

 

David Arntfield

An Inconvenient Truth

 For the longest time, very little was known about David Stratton, a great great grandfather about whom I have previously written. All I really had was his name.  That name had been supplied by my paternal grandmother Beatrice (Clarke) Arntfield (1896-1987) who had emigrated from England with her parents in 1906.   She told me that her mother’s maiden name had been Vickers and that her maternal grandfather, as she understood it, was David Stratton.

If my grandmother knew or was curious about the name discrepancy (one would have expected her mother’s maiden name to have been Stratton as well), she never said.  Genealogy for many people is a late twentieth century interest.  My impression is that my grandmother, never having known her grandfather, was simply passing on what little she had been told without any particular interest in or thought about surname differences.

My grandmother, despite her strong streak of tolerance, would have been aghast to learn that her mother was one of three illegitimate daughters born to David Stratton and her grandmother Sarah Ann Vickers.  Illegitimate births until recently always carried with them a certain stigma, society generally considering any birth outside the confines of marriage as disgraceful and immoral. Some historical context, however, paints a more sympathetic picture of what occurred.

According to various archival sources now available, David Stratton had been born about 1825 in the town of Luton, Bedfordshire, England about 30 miles north of London.  On September 11^th, 1847 at about age 22 he married Hannah Rodwell, also 22, and already pregnant.  By 1849 two children had been born who would die as infants.  At the time of the 1861 census David and Hannah are shown together with now two new children.  For reasons now unknown, it seems the marriage was in trouble.

Sarah (Vickers) Stratton

Divorce was all but unknown in Victorian England.  Until 1857 a private act of Parliament, an expensive and difficult process to which the poor had no access, was the sole route available to legally dissolve a marriage.  Even after rudimentary divorce legislation was enacted, it remained a costly procedure beyond the means of a common labourer such as David Stratton.  The 1861 census taken on April 7^th of that year listed David still together with his first family.  Within a year, however, when about 37 years of age, he was with much younger 23-year- old Sarah Ann Vickers (1838 – 1919) with whom he fathered his first child, my great grandmother Sarah Ann Vickers (1862 – 1931), born on March 15^th 1862.  Was David a womanizer smitten by the considerably younger Sarah Ann?  Was Sarah Ann some sort of femme fatale who lured David from a perfectly sound marriage?  Or, had the marriage, for reasons now unknown, simply irretrievably broken down without today’s panacea of divorce being an available economic option?  

For whatever the reason, and no doubt carrying considerable social stigma with them, David and Sarah Ann began functioning as a couple "living in sin" as it was then called.  Sarah was euphemistically  listed on subsequent census records as a boarder.  Two more daughters were born to the couple in following years while first wife Hannah carried on alone in Luton with her two children.

Hannah eventually died and was buried in Luton on October 1st, 1890 at the age of 65.  Finally David could make an “honest woman” out of Sarah Ann with whom he had now lived for almost 30 years.  On October 27th, 1890, 26 days after Hannah’s burial, David Stratton and Sarah Ann Vickers married, he being properly described as a widower and she as a spinster, albeit the mother of three now grown daughters.     

Sarah Ann (Vickers) Clarke

David Stratton would die in 1900 and Sarah Ann Vickers in 1919.  Their three illegitimate daughters, Sarah Ann, Minnie, and Lizzie, were never known to have spoken of the illegitimacy later made right by the eventual marriage of their parents.  Twenty-first century thinking would suggest that any stigma surrounding their births now more properly rests with a society in which people were expected to remain in broken marriages on account of divorce being an option only available to the wealthy.  

     

 

 

Origins - The Old Dixon Family Tree

 Genealogy has been described as beginning as an interest, later becoming a hobby, then growing into a passion, and finally developing into an obsession. Once one is addicted, there is no known cure.

For many, an awareness of family history serves, apart from general curiosity, the need to understand the forces that have shaped you. It provides a sense of personal identity, an understanding of who you are and where you came from.

My own obsession with genealogy started about 1960 as an adolescent after hearing family stories from a great uncle Andrew Dixon (1907-2002), the de facto historian for my mother’s Dixon family. Among his photographs of and brief accounts about later generations of Dixons, there was as well a rather rudimentary family tree listing various Dixon ancestors going back to 1745. 

The Old Dixon Family Tree (ODFT), as it came to be known, had been found towards the end of World War I by my uncle and his brothers in an abandoned McGillivray Township farmhouse formerly occupied by an aunt and uncle of the boys. Deciding to explore what was left of the house and rummage about inside, the family tree was discovered amongst various apparently discarded papers.

The family tree is believed to have been drawn up sometime around 1900 by brothers Andrew Orr Dixon (1880-1912) and William John Dixon (1883-Aft.1943) Dixon, the sons of John Dixon (1848-1883) and Margaret Orr (1859-1889). Orphaned at a young age when both their parents died of tuberculosis, the boys for the most part were raised by William Dixon (1833-1909), oldest brother of their father and paternal grandfather to my previously referenced great uncle Andrew and his brothers.

John Dixon, father of the orphaned Dixon brothers was born in Weston, Ontario where all members of the family eventually settled after their 1818 arrival in Canada from England. John ended up in McGillivray Township after his recently widowed mother Margaret Dixon (1810-1894) moved there from Weston with her seven children in 1849. The belief that the brothers compiled the family tree is because as young men they are known to have kept in touch and even visited with the many Weston members of the family.  The marriages and issue of those Weston relatives have been documented as well as those of the McGillivray Township Dixons. No other member of the McGillivray Township branch of the family, it is believed, would likely have had such extensive knowledge.

Andrew Orr and John Thomas Dixon, lifelong bachelors, around 1901 eventually settled in the United States, Andrew Orr dying in California of tuberculosis while in his early thirties and William John, eventually dropping out of sight, likely dying somewhere in the United States sometime after 1943 when he was last heard from. Although it is impossible to know for certain now well over a century later if one or both brothers had a hand in compiling the family tree, they seem to be the most likely authors. That is both on account of their previously mentioned Weston connection and on account of no other member of the tightly knit McGillivray Township Dixons ever having come forward to take credit after the discarded family tree was discovered.     

Although not completely accurate, the ODFT for the most part has been proven to be generally so, many entries having been confirmed in searches of various archival records.  It also has served as a useful road map in narrowing geographic areas in which archival research should be concentrated. Without it, it is unlikely, for example, that the precise location of the Dixon family’s roots in England would ever be known.

Apart from the usefulness of names and places mentioned, intriguing notations such as “fought at Battle of Waterloo”, “married four times”, “got whole of large fortune”, and “Captain South African War” clearly suggested there were many interesting Dixon lives that were worth exploring further. In the years that followed, extensive research managed to flesh out the stories of many of these ancestors and their descendants—their accomplishments and their challenges.  

But for the ODFT pointing the way, I would have never learned that one Dixon was in the first class to graduate Canada’s Royal Military College. Another, an Inspector of Customs in Belleville involved in a gunfight with a smuggler who was shot and killed, for a time faced a charge of murder. Another, a recently impoverished widow, walked with her seven children in tow over 100 miles from Toronto to begin a new life in another county. Yet another was transported as a teenager to Australia from England for theft. Even the brothers who are thought to have compiled the ODFT have a story worth telling—Andrew Orr as a California fruit farmer who died quite young and William John as a feckless delusional wanderer who eventually dropped out of sight.   

Discovering the identity of ancestors often seems to give people an added sense of self-identity after learning of past lives that, for better or worse, are part of them. At the very least it provides a context to life beyond the present. Memoirist Maya Angelou once wrote: "I have great respect for the past. If you don't know where you've come from, you don't know where you're going." It seems there are a lot of people today who want to know where they've come from. Following a genealogy craze that started with Alex Haley's best seller Roots, genealogy is said to be the second most popular hobby after gardening and second most visited website category after pornography. Brothers Andrew Orr and William John Dixon were well clearly  decades ahead of it all with their invaluable circa 1900  Old Dixon Family Tree.

                                                                                                                                    David Arntfield

   

A Pious Descendant Of Convicts

Her grandfather was a religiously intolerant Irishman known for his bullying, violence, and intense hatred of Catholics. Her father was a failed law student.  Apart from both men bearing the stigma of having been convicts, her father had the additional shame of having been transported to Australia for his crime.  Despite that family background, Isabel Grant Gray (1855-1933) was able to rise above it all as an intensely passionate Christian who lived a life of fervent piety.  

The stories of Sam Gray (1782-1848) and his son James Gray (1820-1899) are more fully detailed in Bodies Under The Tavern and Convicted And Banished From Ireland.  Family redemption began when James, finally obtaining his freedom, went on to become a respected member of the Tasmanian Parliament.  Isabel took it to the next level with her fervent embrace of Christianity and eventually, the family coming full circle, joining the Catholic Church which her grandfather had so despised. 

James had only one surviving child, Isabel Grant Gray, to whom he left his entire estate.  This daughter who never married died December 7. 1933 in Hobart.  Her religiously intolerant paternal grandfather would have been aghast to know that his granddaughter, for a time having served as an Anglican nun, eventually converted to Catholicism and left her entire estate to Catholic causes.   

Isabel Grant Gray was born in Hobart, Tasmania May 5, 1859 to James and his wife Mary Newton.  About 1877, after her mother’s death the year previous, Isabel accompanied her father for an extended trip to Ireland to stay with relatives.  Although her father remained for about three years before then returning to Hobart, Isabel stayed on longer, eventually settling for a time in London, England as part of her life-long religious journey.  It is there she can be found on the 1881 census in Clerkenwell in Islington as a nun, a member of the Sisters of Bethany, a High Anglican religious order, albeit one not officially constituted by the Church.  Founded in Clerkenwell in only 1866, it was an Augustinian order for pious Anglican women who took the traditional vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience while living in a closed religious community.  Amongst those living in the mother house with Isabel was Yorkshire born Esther Eliza Carter who was destined to be Isabel’s life-long companion on her religious quest.  

In due course, Isabel, accompanied by Esther, returned to Tasmania on the SS Arawa in 1888 a few months before her father’s 1889 death.  Although James’s obituary implies her return may have been prompted by her father’s poor health, an article in the Launceston makes it clear her return was also to be the next step in Isabel’s religious journey.  Both she and Esther were planning, according to the newspaper, to use their English sisterhood experience and personal funds for “ministrations to the work of visiting the afflicted, reclaiming the strayed, and engagement in other offices of disciplined philanthropy”. Their eventual goal, it was stated was to found their own Anglican sisterhood in Hobart which others might join.  

Although there is no evidence that Isabel and Esther were ever able to establish the sisterhood which they had envisioned, they continued with their religious odyssey.  Known for visiting the sick and needy and their works of charity, they regularly attended Hobart’s St. David’s Anglican Cathedral.  Later, however, troubled by aspects of certain Anglican Church positions and its ability to give them certainty in areas of faith and practice, they “crossed the Tiber” and made the momentous decision to convert to Catholicism. This defection of two of its most faithful was said to have caused great local upheaval amongst Anglican clergy.  After the two were officially received into the Catholic Church and baptised at Hobart’s St. Mary’s Cathedral on May 10, 1899, they marked the occasion by presenting a pair of brass candlesticks which now are part of the heritage collection of the Church.  

Said to be well educated and widely read in history, the two were instantly recognizable when in public, always dressing  in the nuns’ habits from their sisterhood days in England.  Although perhaps a bit over the top, this was tolerated by both Anglican and Catholic authorities since the Sisters of Bethany had never enjoyed any official status.  

Although both women always seemed to have been of some means, it is believed this may have been a result of perhaps from family inheritances since Isobel had Tasmanian and Irish assets and Esther Tasmanian and English assets at the time of their deaths. Isabel was the first of the inseparable two to die, death coming in 1933.  Her good works in a sense outlived her since the bulk of her estate went to a Benedictine Abbey in Gloucestershire.  Esther lived on until 1953 when she died at the age of 94, leaving the bulk of her estate to an English cousin.    

In the course of three generations this branch of the Gray family transformed itself from one defined by religious intolerance and criminal behaviour to one defined instead by religious devotion and good works.  Progenitor Sam Gray would never have understood how it all went so wrong.   

 

David Arntfield

 

The Sister Bibles

The custom of giving Bibles to young people as gifts on special occasions, though perhaps now on the wane, was once a common practice.  Its teachings made it an ideal present to guide and equip those youngsters in their faith.  Sisters Lillian and Beatrice Clarke were two such young people.  Well over a century later, their Bibles, now rather worn, survive along with their personalized inscriptions. 

Beatrice Maude Clarke (1896-1987) and her sister Lillian Clarke (1888-1910) were the only daughters
among the five children born to Albert and Sarah Clarke Luton, England.  Lillian was third born and Beatrice last born of this family engaged in England’s straw hatting industry for which Luton was the centre at the time.  The Bible presentations occurred on two separate dates in 1906; the significance of the first date is lost to time while date of the second marked a turning point in the life of the family.

Lillian’s Bible was presented to her on March 19, 1906 by her first cousin Rose Clarke.  As an only child born in 1885 to Joseph and Jane Clarke (Joseph was one of her father Albert’s many brothers), Rose, one might speculate, was perhaps a close girlhood companion to her cousin Lillian, three years her junior.   For whatever reason, 20-year-old Rose decided on that date in March of 1906 to present her 17-year-old cousin with a Bible.  The inscription reads “To Lily with love From Rose”, followed by a Bible passage before the handwritten date “March 19.3.1906.”  The Bible passage from Psalm 37.5 reads “Commit thy way unto the Lord, trust also in him and he shall bring it to pass.

As it turns out, Lillian would have limited time to commit herself to the Lord.  She was to die unmarried and childless just over four years later in London, Ontario, Canada.  Having been operated on for a burst appendix, she never recovered.  Family lore is that she died of peritonitis because of a surgical sponge mistakenly left in her by the operating surgeon.  Her childhood Bible from Cousin Rose had, however, been brought with her when she immigrated to Canada.  Passed on to her sister Beatrice after Lillian’s death, the Bible has now been passed down several more generations. 

The second Bible, that given to Beatrice Clarke while still living in England, was from her uncle William Phillip Clarke, yet another one of father Albert’s many siblings.  Known always as Uncle Phillip, he may have considered Beatrice a favourite niece, given that she bore the same name as Phillip’s own first daughter born in 1889 and after whom his niece may have been named.    Whatever the affection between the two, Uncle Phillip no doubt considered that a Bible would be both a suitable gift and likely also a remembrance of him on the eve of a momentous time in the life of Beatrice and her family.  The inscription reads “A Farewell Present to Beaty From Uncle Phillip.”  The use of the affectionate diminutive Beaty is yet another indication that Beatrice may have been considered a special niece. 

Although no date is provided with the inscription, it most certainly was September of 1906, likely September 13^th.  Beatrice and her family would sail September 14^th, 1906 on the RMS Virginian to begin a new life in Canada across the Atlantic.  Uncle Phil’s gift would come with her. The original nicely penned inscription was added to over 24 years later when Beatrice penned her own inscription reading “and to my Son Jack Jr Arntfield Xmas 1930”.  Just as with Lillian’s Bible, this Bible too has now been passed  down through subsequent generations.

The reality of the emigration of the Clarkes in 1906 was that, as with most such departures in those

days, such a decision meant saying good bye forever to loved ones.  In both Lillian and Beatrice’s case this meant their many aunts, uncles, and cousins as well as a still living maternal grandmother.  Cousin Rose’s and Uncle Phil’s gifts, apart from being something any decent young lady of the day would value, would also serve as one of the few tangible links to the past that both sisters would retain for the rest of their lives --- in Lillian’s case a short life ending four years later and in Beatrice’s case a long one ending eighty-one years later.  Now time worn and fragile, the Bibles and the stories behind them provide future generations with linkage to these more than a century old moments in time of their family history.

                                                                                                                              David Arntfield

                                                                                                                                    

 

William Dixon's Bear Escapade

Had the term then existed, it no doubt would have qualified as William Dixon’s proverbial “fifteen minutes of fame”.  More than a century and a half later, it reads like a combination of derring-do and plain foolhardiness.

My mother having been born a Dixon, William Dixon (1833 – 1909) was my great great grandfather. William, a farmer in McGillivray Township near Lucan, Ontario, gained some notoriety as a young man when he chased and confronted the last bear ever killed in the Township.

This story, passed down in the family over the years, is also recounted in pioneer reminiscences published during the early 1900s in the Ailsa Craig Banner.  William’s encounter with the bear had occurred about forty-five years earlier, putting him in his late twenties or early thirties at the time.

Even though a great deal of McGillivray Township would still have been heavily timbered in the 1850s, the tone of the article suggests that bears so far south in Ontario were already considered a rarity.  The bear pursued during William Dixon’s brush with local fame is only described as a “large bear”, possibly a black bear of the type usually found further north.

The newspaper article recounts some boys, after sighting the bear near Brinsley, briefly chasing it with two dogs before losing track of it.  The dogs, however, were able to continue the chase, apparently barking noisily as they did so.  It is at this stage that William appeared on the scene. The newspaper article recounts:

“William Dixon, who lived nearby, ran to see what all the fuss was about and came singled handed upon the bruin.  With the dogs he followed closely. The bear ran to the north, the dogs and Mr. Dixon in hot pursuit.  The bear got into a dam of water … swimming around and casting ugly glances at Dixon finally deciding to put him out of business by coming out of the water to attack him.  Mr. Dixon raised a large stone and struck him on the head.  The bear turned in the other direction.”

The chase then continued with the bear for a time sheltering between some logs and injuring one of the barking snapping dogs.  William and the other dog (how is not explained) succeeded in ousting the bear from his shelter and the chase continued to the north.

“A number of brush fences were met in the way and, in climbing these, the bear was only a few feet in advance of Dixon who, with a good hand spike or club, might have killed the bear.  However, he had nothing in his hand and although he could get nothing as a useful weapon, he made sufficient noise to be heard from both concessions to the east and west.”

William passed a shanty whose owner was known to possess a gun.  Quickly advised of the situation, this man fired a futile shot when the bear was at long range.  By now, another neighbour made aware of the situation, rode up and, as the bear again turned on his pursuers, the neighbour fired a fatal shot to the bear’s head. 

“Mr. Dixon was much admired and praised for his daring and courage following the animal so closely without even a stick in his hand.  The carcass was skinned, the meat divided among the crowd that soon gathered, and one of the most exciting episodes that took place in the community for some time was over.”  The carcass was skinned, the meat divided among the crowd that soon gathered, and one of the most exciting episodes that took place in the community for some time was over.”

Present day environmentalists would be no doubt horrified by the actions of William and his neighbours.  It is likely, however, that a wild bear was seen as no friend of farmers and their livestock.  It also seems, as evidenced by the last sentence in the story, that the bear may also have been viewed as a potential food source.  Whatever the reason, the tale left William with some modest fame in his farming community.

The tale in the retelling no doubt lacks some of the excitement of so long ago.  Be that as it may, William Dixon, his status as a local hero long forgotten, can at least still be remembered by his family as the man who, whether courageously or recklessly, tracked and pursued the last bear killed in McGillivray Township.

 

David Arntfield

Convicted And Banished From Ireland

 For many years some Australians were not necessarily all that keen on seeking out their genealogical roots. Too often the search would reveal ancestors who were prisoners transported to Australia from England for various crimes, both serious and minor.  Considering that transportation to Australia existed as a form of punishment from 1787 to 1851, grandparents and great grandparents in Australia could, until recent decades, have had a convict past that they preferred to remain hidden.  Although once considered a shameful family secret, claims to convict ancestry for some now seem to add a certain cachet to one’s family line.

Our family, although in Canada, is also able to remotely claim convict ancestry in Australia.  I have previously written about Sam Gray (1782-1848) of Ballybay, Ireland, a notorious religiously intolerant bully and local enforcer who ended up in constant scrapes with the law.  Relationship to him is through James Hutchison (1901-1988), maternal grandfather to my sons.  James’ maternal grandmother Florinda Gray (1840-1920) was, according to family lore she passed on, a niece of the loathsome Sam.

The previously written Sam Gray article makes makes a made brief reference to Sam’s son James Gray who was transported to Australia.  Online archival sources have since been of significant assistance in fleshing out more of his story.   

James Gray was one of the Duke of Richmond’s 111 all male convict passengers when it sailed from Dublin September 21, 1843, all of whom landed safely in Hobart 103 days later on January 2, 1844.  At first blush, James Gray, born in 1820 in Ballybay, County Monaghan would seem to have been an unlikely candidate to bear the stigma of being a transported convict.  He had been a twenty-two year old law student at the time of his July 15, 1843 trial for subornation of perjury.  Loyalty to his father had, however, in the end outweighed any regard for ethical conduct or respect for the law that one would expect of an aspiring lawyer. 

James’ father Sam Gray was an intolerant Orangeman, loan collector, cheat, and ruffian who in many ways “ran” the town of Ballybay.  In 1843, once again in conflict with the law, Sam was arrested and in custody for allegedly having discharged a firearm at another.   In an effort to secure bail for his father, James, with misguided loyalty, arranged for an acquaintance to personate  doctor and falsely swear an affidavit that his father’s supposed poor health could not withstand the rigours of incarceration pending trial.  The hope had been that this would tip the balance in favour of his father being admitted to bail pending trial "to enjoy the care of family and servants".  After James’ role in the affair was discovered by authorities, he was tried in Dublin, found guilty, and sentenced to one month in prison followed by transportation abroad for seven years for his role in procuring the perjured affidavit.

Meticulously kept convict registers of the time describe James as a five feet, seven and one half inches tall brown whiskered twenty-two year old first offender.  Apparently somewhat of a model prisoner, James rather surprisingly at some stage during in his early years as a prisoner even supported the Governor in opposing the then growing movement favouring abolition of the policy of transportation — the very practice responsible for his presence in Tasmania.  A local newspaper had unflatteringly described such abolition protests events as involving "mobs of convicts organised in support of the Governor." The newspaper went on to say that supporters included "a miscreant called Gray, son of the Monaghan murderer of that name and himself transported for forgery … the mob leader".  

With James's conduct as a prisoner noted as exemplary, he nanaged to receive his ticket-of-leave in 1847, just some three years after his arrival.  The next year, as was then required when wanting to marry, he sought and received permission to marry Mary Newton, a “free woman”.  After their April 29, 1848 marriage, he subsequently then received his own certificate of freedom in 1853. 

James Gray In Later Life 

James, just as he had been a model prisoner, went on to be a model citizen, becoming first a successful civil servant as Director of Roads and eventually a member of the Tasmanian parliament.  He served West Hobart from 1872 to 1877 and Sorell from 1882 to 1889.  An ardent Irishman who named his Davey street home Ulster Lodge, it was written at the time of his death that James was noted for his eloquence, habitual anti-government stance, and devotion to causes of the underprivileged.  James died in office on January 21, 1889 and is buried in Hobart’s Cornelian Bay Cemetery.  Despite his shameful behaviour as a young man which led to his banishment to Tasmania, James’ story in the end is one of redemption.

One of James Gray’s first cousins, the previously mentioned Florinda Gray, great grandmother to my sons, immigrated to Canada about 1880.   Despite the tenuous family relationship my children have with James (first cousin four times removed), a snippet of Australian convict heritage is still theirs to claim should they wish to do so.   

David Arntfield

Beginnings In Canada

My earliest known ancestor to arrive in Canada was James Dixon, my maternal fourth great grandfather, who arrived over two hundred years ago in 1818.  Born in 1771 in Hawes, Yorkshire, England, this interesting ancestor would marry four times and father fifteen children, ten of them surviving to adulthood.         

James, first married to Barbara Tomlinson at age 22, found himself a widower by age 34.  Next married at age 36 to Mary Parker, he was again a widower by age 42.  Married four months later to Isabella Swinbank, he set out four years later with this wife to Canada in the spring of 1818 along with seven of his children of whom four were ten years of age or under, including a child who was a mere baby of one.  Children travelling with him were George, Thomas, Betsy, John, Richard, Isabella, and Jane.  There would later be three more children born in Canada, two of whom, Rebecca and Anthony would survive until adulthood. Two adult sons remained in England, one of whom, William, would join James in Canada some years later.         

(The primary source of information regarding James comes from 1930s records of his granddaughter, Rebecca (Potter) Dixon, the daughter of James’ youngest daughter, also named Rebecca.  Rebecca (Potter) Dixon was an inveterate documenter of family lore and much of her material can be independently confirmed by archival records.)         

Prior to his immigration to Canada James worked as a blacksmith and additionally kept a hardware store and hotel as adjuncts to his blacksmithing business.  Rebecca (Potter) Dixon writes: 

"My grandfather was a blacksmith but kept a hardware store and hotel too and worked at his trade.  Being badly in debt he left for Canada leaving all his possessions in the hands of a cousin, Jackson by name.  He, this cousin, as soon as grandfather started to his far off western home, sold all grandfather's effects and pocketed the money never paying any of the debts.  The sale lasted three weeks selling goods each day.  Grandfather had more than enough to pay his debts, but some of his creditors were anxious for their money and he had not enough to pay them until his goods were sold.  He started with what he had and they, the creditors followed him and he gave them all of the money he had with him." 

So according to family lore, it was a very impecunious James who set out for Canada.  One has to question, however, the accuracy of the account about giving all his money to his creditors. He obviously had sufficient funds for his passage to Canada with his wife and seven of his surviving children, including two young adult children.  (Adult sons William and James at the time remained in England.  William, however, would later choose to also join James in Canada, leaving eldest son James, a career soldier, as the only Dixon child who did not emigrate.)   

Anthony Dixon (1819 - 1878), the Canadian born son of James and another early family historian writes:

"James Dixon ... emigrated with his family in the spring of the year 1818 and settled in the Township of Aldborough, Upper Canada when he removed in the Autumn of 1826 to his residence, Lot 21, 2nd Concession of the Township of Etobicoke."

Apart from James and his wife Isabella, the family arriving in Canada consisted of five six children under age 18 plus older son George, about age 22, and Thomas, about age 18.  It is not known if had in mind a clear destination in Canada when he set out on what in those days would have been an ocean crossing of several weeks.  Although he may originally have had the Toronto area in mind, he initially ended up some one hundred and twenty miles to the southwest.  Family historian Rebecca (Dixon) Potter further writes: 

 "My grandfather came over from England  ... and as Toronto was no place at that time was induced to go on further to this Talbot possession as he had a division of the British army quartered there." 

The "Talbot possession" was a settlement begun in 1803 and run by Colonel Thomas Talbot, a well connected member of the Anglo-Irish aristocracy.  Talbot had been given 5000 acres in Elgin County to be administered by him and given to settlers wishing to farm and willing to clear the lands.  It seems reasonable to conclude that the attraction of free land had been the major inducement for James to settle in Elgin County’s Aldborough Township.  The arrival of James and family was clearly at a time when the War of 1812 between the United States and Canada was fresh in the minds of many.  Rebecca (Dixon) Potter goes on to write: 

"The old settlers told them how cruelly the lawless Yankees had used them, cutting down their orchards, taking even their feather beds out of their houses and emptying the feathers and carrying the ticks away ... and devastating everything around ... and would have killed Colonel Talbot, but he, seeing them coming, disguised himself and he and another gentleman passed the lawless brutes as they were going to his house." 

In 1818 when James arrived, Aldborough Township was still sparsely populated.  Until 1812 in fact there had in fact been only one family there, a family that chose to leave after its home was destroyed by Indians.  Six years later in the spring of 1818, James would be one of only seventeen other families, many of them Highland Scots, by then residing in the Township.  Numbers would further grow with the arrival from Scotland of thirty-six additional families that same fall. 

One can only imagine the challenges faced by James and family.  He was 46 years of age and had no farming experience.  Only two of his accompanying children were old enough to assist in land clearing.  The privations in such an untamed part of the province were many.  James and his two sons, George and Thomas, were each allotted 50 acres of land in the Settlement, all parcels fronting on Concession Road Thirteen.  James was given the northwest corner of Lot 23, George, about age 22, the northeast corner of Lot 23 and Thomas, about age 18, the northeast corner of adjoining Lot 22.  By 1820, according to an early assessment roll, George and Thomas owned no animals and had cleared no land.  James on the other hand had managed by that time to clear one acre of land and to acquire one cow.  Although these gains over two years may not seem impressive, there were in 1820 only eighteen of eighty-six men entered as landowners who had cleared any land at all.  Of the Township's 4450 acres, only 105 acres had been cleared in total with the rest described as wild land.  James' single cow was one of only forty-four in the Township together with twenty oxen and one horse. 

The Dixon lands were just east of the present village of Eagle.  Concession Road Thirteen with its sandy lands is quite close to the northern shores of Lake Erie, the irregularly shaped lots of the Broken Front Concession being all that separated the Dixon lands from the water itself.  James Dixon’s lands would be the birthplace of his last three children, Anthony born in 1819, Roger who died in infancy, and Rebecca born in 1822.  A visit to these lands in 1979 determined that the original 50 acre farm was still intact, there having been no additions of adjacent land to add to the original holding.  Almost two hundred years after James’ arrival, the land of course had by then been mostly cleared (save for a small bushy area at the back of the farm through which ran a gully).  Although the sandy land so close to Lake Erie was being used by this time to grow corn, the then owner advised me that, within the past twenty years,  it had also been used at one time for growing tobacco and prior to that for mixed farming. 

Pioneer life on these lands was difficult for James and family.  Settlers were constantly faced with inadequate accommodation, wild animals, and often a poor supply of food.  In a book entitled "Pioneer Days in Aldborough it is related that typical Aldborough pioneers would first sleep in the open or on the ground of very basic shelters until a small portion of land could be cleared for construction of a log cabin.  In the fall of 1818 (James had arrived in the spring) families, after exhausting a meagre supply of corn and potatoes, subsisted on turnips and chestnuts until flour could be purchased some distance away.  Wolves, bears, and wild turkeys were a constant threat to livestock and grain. 

Illness was also a problem, in no small part due to the undrained and swampy conditions of many of the lands which provided ideal breeding grounds for disease carrying mosquitoes.   High fevers and what has been described "the shaking ague" were common complaints.  Medical assistance was non-existent.  In September of 1819 alone (the same month James' son Anthony was born) there were fourteen adult funerals among the fifty-four Aldborough families.    

Against this backdrop James and his family persevered for eight years.  In the end, it appears that it was not the living conditions but the personality of the Settlement's founder Colonel Thomas Talbot that beat James.  Talbot was well known for being autocratic and eccentric.  Rebecca (Dixon) Potter further writes: 

"Grandfather got in touch with Col. Talbot and he settled in Aldborough Township but quarrelled with him  ... He gave it up and came down to Etobicoke where the three older boys had settled ..." 

The older boys would include George and Thomas and likely older son William who came to Canada with his first cousin wife Margaret (our lineal ancestors) sometime after James.  Although it is not known when George and Thomas left Aldborough Township for Etobicoke Township, it is assumed that they did not remain in the Talbot Settlement for very long since they never received title to their lands, an indication that settlement obligations requiring minimal land clearing had never been completed.  On the other hand, James remained long enough to receive title to his lands.  The paperwork was registered in 1825, the year before his reputed 1826 move to Etobicoke Township.  Because James had essentially paid for the land by improving it with his labour, the purchase price from Talbot is set out nominally as one farthing.  James would subsequently sell the land for 50 pounds or one pound per acre, its apparent fair market value at the time. 

James’ move to Etobicoke Township saw him settling there on Lot 21 of Concession 2, property he would remain on until his 1862 death.  His decision to settle in that area was no doubt the result of his wish to join sons George, Thomas, and possibly William who had already settled there.  In due course, sons John and Richard would also own land there and daughters Betsy, Jane, and Rebecca, once married, would also for a time settle in the area.  Given all the Dixon holdings now to be found on Concessions 1, 2, 3, and A, a cross concession road to the north of these lands would subsequently come to be known as Dixon Road on account of all the Dixon lands it passed.  Dixon Road is a name which survives to this day near Toronto's Pearson Airport.  Although Dixon Road and the former Dixon farmlands are now highly developed, they remained as farmlands until well into the 1950s. 

Little is known of James' close to forty years in Etobicoke Township.  What is known is that his third wife, Isabella, would die within four years of their arrival.  It is also known that there was an ill-fated fourth marriage to one Hannah Reynolds in 1831.  This marriage is briefly referenced my Adelaide (Potter) Stober, the younger sister of Rebecca (Potter) Dixon, in the following brief 1949 note: 

"Grandfather Dixon was married four times ... his fourth wife was a widow with one daughter but she lived with him only a short time.” 

(This marriage occurred April 18, 1831 at Toronto’s St. James Cathedral.)                                                                                                                                       

The only real additional glimpse of James’ life during his early Etobicoke years comes again from Rebecca (Potter) Dixon: 

"They first moved into a little log house as the house they were to live in was filled with hay.  After the hay was taken out they moved into the other house mother (probably grandmother is meant) died in and kept hay in the other house they first moved into." 

Apart from farming his lands, James also used his early blacksmithing experience to act as a sort of pioneer lay doctor and dentist since Rebecca further writes: 

"Grandfather here too started a blacksmith shop and was kind of a doctor too.  Would set bones and bled both people and horses.  Made some tooth drawers himself and had drawn many teeth." 

We also know that James' property also apparently once had several oak trees of some value since Rebecca also writes: 

"John and Richard cut all the oak trees down on grandfather's place and had them sawed at the mills into staves which were shipped to England and other places." 

Rebecca (Dixon) Potter, also describing her grandfather as a “strong Episcopalian”, adds that he had helped in the building of St. Philip’s Church in Weston.  

It is additionally known that James made one trip back to England in 1841 to visit family with his son Anthony.  This is not only referred to in the Rebecca (Potter) Dixon material but also confirmed by the 1841 census for Kettlewell, the enumeration having occurred during their visit there.  James and Anthony are shown on census night residing with his widowed brother-in-law William Tennant.  Also in the same household is James’ then widowed mother who was 90.  So unlike most pioneers who never again saw relatives left behind, James had the opportunity to see his mother one more time before her death. 

Following his trip to England Rebecca (Potter) Dixon tells us that James brought back to Canada with him his 10 year old grandson John.  This John was a late born child of his eldest son, also James, the only one of the family to remain in England.  It is hard to fathom the thinking behind letting so young a child being turned over to his grandfather to be taken out of the country away from his immediate family.  (This grandchild would in fact eventually choose to return to England many years later as an adult.) 

James made his last will and testament in 1860 before dying two years later.  The will in which he unusually appointed four executors left the bulk of his estate to his second youngest son Richard.  This included the 100 acre home farm on Lot 21, Concession 2 and all personal estate, subject only to a few bequests to others.  These included a relatively stingy five pounds to sons John and Anthony, ten pounds annually for life to daughters Jane and Rebecca, and two lots of fifty pounds, one lot each to be divided equally among each daughter's children.  Rebecca (Potter) Dixon writes that many of the family considered the will unjust. 

James Dixon seems to in many ways personify the quintessential pioneer.  He was 46 years of age when he decided to pull up roots in England.  He set out on the long passage for Canada with a large family, three of whom were ten years of age or under including a baby of one year.  Although he had no known farming experience, he managed not only to acquire those skills and flourish but also to successfully overcome the many adversities that awaited all pioneers.    Eventually prospering along with his family, he lived to the full age of 91 as had his mother. For this descendant, he remains to-day over two hundred years later an enduring symbol of 19^th century pioneer determination and endurance.

 

David Arntfield