Crieff at the time of Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee in 1897
Crieff as a centre
of population has been around
a long time . Recent discoveries
have revealed a Neolithic past when this
part of Strathearn was emerging as a place of importance The
present town however is solidly Victorian with a smattering remnant
of the Georgian in places like Burrell Square ( The Octagon of
yesteryear ) and Ruberslaw House . The following little
essay is yet another plucked from
my tattered little copy of Dixons “ Crieff in the Victorian Era “ and
was written in the year of the Jubilee in 1897 so reflects what
our town was like in the pre motor car era !
Burrell Square formerly The Octagon
“To know and understand Crieff as it exists in the year of the Diamond Jubilee of her Majesty Queen Victoria , it is necessary in the first place to have some years experience in the town , and in the second place to have some sense of observation . There are casts , sets ,cliques and circles , sufficient to make India hide its face in very shame ; and there are more public houses , doctors , lawyers , ministers , billiard rooms and churches than in almost any town in either Scotland , England or Ireland. If you are in one set , you are not in the other , your principal duty is to stick to it . You know the sets by their unfailing attachment ; you know the circles by their consequential airs ; you distinguish the casts by the way they carry their heads ; and you can easily discover the cliques by their unflagging attention to everybodies tourist affairs but their own .
In the summer time , Crieff life actually
begins to be of interest about 10
am . The prosperous business
man charges along the High Street shouldering
his morning newspaper, and tells everybody
“it’s a good “ , or a “ better day “ ;
all the tradesmen hanging about James
Square , scatter like birds in a
thunderstorm ; the legal men break into a professional trot , and shortly
disappear into their offices ; all the
budding doctors on the hunt for broken
legs , flutter about at every corner ; the matron seeks out the cheapest dinner
, and stows it away in an arrangement
like a poacher’s net ; the early rising
visitors swagger about in skirts
, blouses and ties , suggesting
everything that is Jubilee ; the tourist , in the garb of the northern
landlord , shoulders his knapsack , and strides away ; and the
local press men chase one another to along to the Police Court wondering if the weather is likely to be
suitable for a Comrie Earthquake . As
time wears on to noonday , the streets are thronged by another population . Where they come out
of is hard to say but they are all there
. Stout ladies with delicate looking
husbands step slowly along the centre of the pavement and
stop and stare in every shop window .
Behind come their beaming but sorely oppressed daughters, watching every thing
and everybody , and behind them again comes the confounded little brother who swears
he will tell “ all about it “ if they don’t buy him something
at the nearest sweetie shop . Mixed
among this crowd are the visitors who
imagine they know all about
everything . When they reach the Murray fountain , they stop
for a minute and criticise the
architecture . “ Gothic “ , says one , “
Grecian “ , says another . “ Both wrong
“ remarks another - “ Corinthian “ , and
there they stand pointing out with their walking sticks defects in
balance , and generally
condemning the style of
architecture . “ Who’s Murray
? “ asks some one . “ Oh a Waterloo hero “, answers
some one else. “ Correct “, says another , not to be behind in his historical information , and away they walk
congratulating themselves on their
knowledge of everything that is useful . Then there is a multifarious collection of visitors whose chief ideas of a quiet holiday are a parade about the streets before dinner , and a short walk in the afternoon . You can see
them any day in the summer mashing about
with white parasols , and last year’s ball dresses improved at the neck
, and all looking supernaturally grand .
It is not till the afternoon that Crieff
people themselves are seen at their best . Round the shops the older people roam , admiring everything that is new, and
buying everything that is useless . A
carriage draws up ; the head shop man
rushes to open the door ; the lady steps on to the pavement with the airs of an eastern princess , he orders half a pound of cheese and a pound of butter , and pays
the account a year hence .Later
on there put in n appearance the
people who have reduced afternoon calling to a fine
art , and whose sole work at home is dusting the drawing - room mantle shelf , and looking out for new
and reliable servants .Thy skip
along the High street , and omit to recognise all their old friends , and practice afternoon tea
in the back garden , in prospect of the
county gatherings in the Autumn .
About four o’clock stylish
Crieff is afloat on bicycles . Like the new telegraph boys , they believe ,
because they are in a hurry , they can knock
everybody over , and never say “
Sorry “ . Away they fly , all
laughing and gay , and when the
chivalrous youths round the corner observe their approach , they raise their
caps , and shortly follow in their wake
. Two hours thereafter the daughters of
the wheel return , tired and jaded , and next morning they get breakfast
in bed . It is about seven o’clock in the evening that the male population is most in evidence . Newmarket coats , sticks, canes , cigarettes and silk handkerchiefs follow their masters out to Ochtertyre or round the Knock , or oftener
to the nearest billiard table . The actual working population gathers in
James Square with the regularity of an eight - day clock and the pavement
swells with an interesting variety of
people of all castes and classes , trying to impress the population with their outstanding importance . In the evening,
too , golf and bowling are in full swing
, and there are the usual spooning and flirting at the tennis court . All are
enjoyable games, - particularly th tennis. The patrons become attached to the game
, sometimes in the interests of
sport , but too often from a business point of view , and there the fly about
till after sundown , while their mammas are slaving at home with lodgers
to raise the rent - Sic vita est .
Life in Crieff is an interesting study, and
the subject gives ample scope in itself for a book which has yet to be written
, In a short sketch , such as this , only the principal features can be touched upon . To deal with the subject in a complete form , one would require to start with the men whose work is a profession , and
the men whose profession is doing
nothing ; joining in the same
chapter , the class who mix up their
profession with labour , by sweeping out
the shop on the Saturday morning . Then
there would come the working classes ,
for whom we hold the highest respect ,
and then all the other sections of the
people in the town which go to make up a
highly intelligent community . Crieff is worth
seeing and knowing , and those who find nothing about it to interest and
amuse , must walk with their eyes closed , or be in love with their own shadow .”
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