by Margaret Arnett MacLeod; drawings by L. S. Saw

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WHEN the Governor-General of Canada and the Lieutenant-Governors of the provinces hold receptions on New Year’s Day, they are not following a precedent set by the sovereign whom they represent. In England New Year’s Day is not observed. By choosing to hold their annual receptions on that day in Canada they perpetuate an ancient custom of the country.

From the beginning, people of the fur trade posts paid their respects to their representative of government, the master of the fort, on New Year’s Day. The Indians enthusiastically joined the whites in their celebrations, so New Year’s calling is part of the stamp left on the country by its earliest inhabitants. It seems regrettable that a custom of such ancient origin should now be on the wane after a tradition of more than two centuries.

Scots and French at the remotest posts managed some small observance of their native festival of the New Year. The record at Moose Fort on January 1st, 1749, reads: “Having three fiddlers in this Fort, our people celebrated the evening with dancing and were all merry. . . .”

Here is a picture of New Year’s at Brandon House, near the city of Brandon. Manitoba, in 1797. “In the morning the Canadians (men of the North West Company] make the House and Yard Ring with salluting. The House then filled with them when they all got a dram each. After they were gone the house filled a second time— with Ladys. the wives of the Canadians, with the Complimentary Kiss of the new year according to their Custom, and drest in their wedding garments.”

Long Lake. 1831. “This being New Year’s Day the men and women paid us a Visit which is the customary compliment.”

Michipicoten Journal. January 1st, 1832. “A little preceding sunrise the Servants assembled in front of the Mess House and honouring us with the customary salute with arms, were invited to walk in and were treated with a few glasses of liquor (a weakened compound of brandy ctc.) and some flour cakes (bread). This over they retired in excellent humour to commence their jollification. The ladies come next and made their curtsies being ushered into the Family Room. Afterwards they were indulged with a breakfast with forks (meaning with meat) and the day passed agreeably without any material interruption to the conviviality of the period.”

At Lake Athabasca, on January 1st. 1821. George Simpson, later governor of the Hudson’s Bay Company, wrote: “The people (of the fort) have been enjoying themselves with a dance and seem much gratified by the attention paid them.”

It is interesting to note in passing that the routine of celebration described in these records is still the custom in northern Canada. The frontier has just been pushed back.

The fur trade New Year was wholeheartedly adopted by the Selkirk colonists when they came from Scotland in 1811 to begin the settlement of western Canada at the junction of the Red and Assinihoine rivers.

Though Upper Fort Garry was the centre of the settlement and the seat of government, it was, like other posts, remote from the real of the world. And the age-old New Year’s customs carried on there were continued long after Manitoba came into being. The governor living at the fort might have been sent from Ottawa to govern their country when it became part of Canudu. but the fur trade feu de joie in the early morning and the calls of respect continued.

The dance at the fort on New Year’s night was the climax of twenty-four hours of excitement — from early that morning until dawn of the next.

In early days there were no invitations. It was open house, open kitchen, open cellar on a limited scale, to everyone, with the governor and his staff to uphold the dignity of the occasion. Even the odd Indian chief would come many miles to say “Appy Nootchie” to the governor and add the picturesqueness of his ceremonial dress to the dance.

In 1847 when a military detachment from England was quartered at the fort the New Year’s dance was for Red River, a sophisticated party. Draped flags and stars of crossed sabres flashing from the walls, red-coated officers teaching the latest dance steps to partners (some in elaborate gowns brought for the occasion from London or New York), the gay music of the fiddlers, all made it a brilliant scene.

Later, increasing communication with the outside world changed life in Red River. Evening finery was more easily obtainable, invitations to the ball were sent out and it took on Victorian formality. It lingered on as the most important social function of the year in Winnipeg until the middle ’eighties. Old people still like to talk about it. Guests presented themselves at the small night gate where all icy winds that blew seemed to sweep around the fort walls. The ancient porter was notoriously slow in shuffling down the long board walk to answer their ring, and old ladies recall how, as girls, dressed in imported gowns but with feet clad in dainty white moccasin slippers, they practised their steps on the frozen ground to keep warm.

In a settlement that struggled for existence for more than fifty years there was always so much to expect from a new year, that when it arrived, hardships and disappointments, even food scarcity, were forgotten. Buoyant hope expressed itself in opening doors, cheery voices and general jollifications.

Peter Garrioch wrote on January 2nd, 1844: “Yesterday today and the following embrace much the same subjects— Trading . . . singing & a great deal of chatting as is common on such occasions — went on like fighting cocks” as indeed they did, for with the Scots and French in the majority, New Year’s was Red River’s great day of the year.

A pretty family ceremony brought by the canoemen from Quebec, started the day among the French settlers. Before breakfast, the oldest son with his family hastened to his father’s house where he knelt before him to receive his blessing, after which he was embraced in true French fashion. His children too shared in the ceremony. His waiting brothers and sisters with their families then took their turn according to age, down to the youngest. And there was an impressive moment at the end when as many as twenty or more descendants were kneeling at the father’s feet. Then followed breakfast with the festive New Year’s tortiere (a delicious type of meat pie), also meat balls, and all spent most of the day under the parental roof. But their celebrations were not finished until they had all met for a New Year’s dinner during the following week at each brother’s or sister’s home.

Red River Indians ushered in the New Year in traditional style. Before daylight every Indian who could procure a flintlock gun loaded it with a double charge of powder and joining others, started around the Settlement.

By dawn, fresh smoke from the whitewashed log houses along the river banks curled up into the frosty air. The settlers were astir, wakened by volleys of musketry and a chorus of “Appy Nootchies” at their doors. Generous preparation was always made for the Indians’ New Year calls: piles of bannock and big iron pots of scalding black tea. And what the callers couldn’t eat, they carried away.

The general New Year’s calling in Red River was patterned on the Scottish custom of the ladies receiving and the gentlemen calling with the privilege of the New Year’s kiss. But from early fur trade days the Indian women insisted on calling too and kissing their hosts. Young Bobby Ballantyne, aged 17, (Lady Simpson’s cousin and later famous as the writer, R. M. Ballantyne) was at York Factory for New Year’s, 1843. He told of coping with the situation on the approach of an old hag, by raising his head slightly just as their lips were about to meet. In Red River, lads could be seen scurrying out the front door as the dusky ladies arrived at the back one.

The gentlemen of the Settlement began their calls about our coffee party hour and continued them throughout the day. The late Archbishop Matheson recalled the chores being done up early, the finest driving horses groomed until they shone and hitched to the best sleigh obtainable. Then with strings of bells on the horses and flashily trimmed buffalo robes for the sleighs, the young men in keen rivalry were off to call on as many friends as possible. The older men too put on their best capotes with gaudy French belts tied about the middle, and lacking a horse, walked.

Young folk called New Year’s the Kissing Day since that was its chief attraction. Households took pride in the abundance and superior quality of the good cheer on their loaded tables, and the ladies, dressed in their best, fluttered about serving the guests. No wonder the lads vied with each other in the number of calls they could make: the more calls, the more kisses. The Archbishop told of making 75 calls on a New Year’s day of his youth — but other statistics were not divulged.

The New Year’s holiday was pre-eminently the season for weddings. Among the Scottish settlers in Kildonan, Thursday was the chosen day and the father of the prospective bride went around the settlement and gave the invitations verbally. Instead of the bridal showers of today, different festivities were given in honour of the event, beginning with a dance at the girl’s home on the bridal eve and continuing for a week after the wedding.

A lad had to step lively in order to get a partner to take to the wedding since the men outnumbered the ladies. A girl might be embarrassed by the number of invitations from admirers, but a young man might make four or five attempts before he secured a partner.

On the wedding day a long line of carioles and sleighs drawn by handsomely bedecked horses dashed along the frozen river (the winter road) to the church with the bridal couple at its head. The return from the church resolved itself into a race. It was an occasion on which to show off a fine horse and get as near the head of the procession as possible. Rivalry was keen but one rule was never broken. To pass the newly married couple was a breach of etiquette that would never be forgotten nor forgiven.

Horse-racing was a big New Year’s Day event. The Red River, kept clear by prevailing north winds, was a busy winter highway, and on New Year’s Day the stretch near the fort and near the section marked off as a race course was crowded with celebrants.

Shrieking children careened wildly down the river banks on improvised toboggans frozen cow hides with the hair inside for warmth. Skaters near the banks practised figures or raced mostly on homemade skates. And farther out loaded family sleighs and carioles filled with fur robes and callers on their rounds dashed along the ice. Enthusiastic spectators lined the race course where Company officers and the more prosperous settlers matched their blood horses in the day’s racing program, sometimes for considerable stakes. The excited crowds with gaily striped blanket capotes, bright caps and sashes, the flashily decked horses, and sleighs with red trimmed fur robes streaming out behind, made a kaleidoscope of color. Red River’s Weekly, the Nor’wester, related of January 1st. 1863:

“The Past Office and stores closed, all business was suspended while the learned Postmaster with a bet of some pounds on his little Canadian mare Pussy, raced her on the frozen river against a fast French steed called Nowhere. The horses were decorated with flowers and ribbons, the enthusiastic onlookers milled along the course and cheered, and the Postmaster’s little nag, a stylish beast trained in Detroit, won.”

Toward the end of Red River days James McKay, one of the most hospitable men in the Settlement, always gave a dance at his home. Deer Lodge, on New Year’s night.

At six in the evening the guests (some from as far as Portage la Prairie and St. Andrew’s) began to arrive. Cutters and homemade sleighs disgorged their well-bundled occupants in a stream of light from the constantly opening front door and in a chorus of greetings.

Down the stairway floated ladies in flowing skirts and moccasined feet; in tightly fitting bodices and neatly snooded hair. The older ones found comfortable chairs in parlor or hall, or in the large dining room cleared for dancing. The younger ones were claimed by partners in homespun suits with moccasins smoother and neater than any glove tightly bound around their ankles ready for the most intricate steps.

Tantalizing odours seeped in from the supper already preparing; a scraping of fiddles came from the end of the dining room, and the dance began. Four fiddlers played in relays of two to give the exhausted ones a chance to recover. Four sets for the square dance formed in that big room and to the music of “The Buffalo Girl” or “Soldiers’ Joy,” they were off at the dancing in earnest.

The last chain, the “breakdown,” showed up the people who really could dance. At the rousing commands of the man who “called off ” they went through their steps to the rollicking tunes ending at their places with a final good shuffle of their feet.

The “mammas“ looked on from their comfortable seats making the most of this meeting with friends to catch up on the latest news and keeping a watchful eye on their daughters.

By ten o’clock supper began to be served and continued throughout the dance. The tables upstairs were spread so substantially, and all the guests enjoyed themselves so thoroughly, it might have been expected that all ardour for the dancing would disappear. But not at all! Back they went to the dancing with undiminished enthusiasm, and back they came to the tables again before morning arrived.

There were huge hot joints of beef and pork, roasted ducks and geese, smoked deer and buffalo tongues, buffalo hump and beaver tail. All down the tables, plates piled with mountains of bannock were interspersed with jugs of syrup, dishes of dried applesauce, bowls of scraped maple sugar, plates of pemmican, gingerbread, or little cakes spotted with raisins — and cups were filled from big steaming teapots and teakettles of strong black tea.

The square dance described now adds interest to modern New Year’s celebrations. And it would seem that the waning New Year’s calling, might also flourish again. If citizens generally were to follow the example of Her Majesty’s representatives in Canada and open their homes to New Year’s visitors, some of the old customs might be brought back. With the revival of even this one, the hearty Red River calling, the day should be not only more colourful, but more historically significant.

Margaret Arnett MacLeod of Winnipeg, a member of the Council of the Champlain Society, has delved deeply into the social history of the Red River Settlement. L.S. Saw, Australian by birth, is a cartoonist for the Winnipeg Tribune.

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