Books: A Lady\'s Visit to the Gold Diggings of Australia in 1852 53
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Mrs Charles (Ellen) Clacy >> A Lady\'s Visit to the Gold Diggings of Australia in 1852 53
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The two principal streets are Collins Street and Elizabeth Street. The
former runs east and west, the latter crossing it in the centre.
Melbourne is built on two hills, and the view from the top of Collins
Street East, is very striking on a fine day when well filled with
passengers and vehicles. Down the eye passes till it reaches Elizabeth
Street at the foot; then up again, and the moving mass seems like so
many tiny black specks in the distance, and the country beyond looks
but a little piece of green. A great deal of confusion arises from the
want of their names being painted on the corners of the streets: to a
stranger, this is particularly inconvenient, the more so, as being
straight, they appear all alike on first acquaintance. The confusion is
also increased by the same title, with slight variation, being applied
to so many, as, for instance, Collins Street East; Collins Street West;
Little Collins Street East; Little Collins Street West, &c. &c.
Churches and chapels for all sects and denominations meet the eye; but
the Established Church has, of all, the worst provision for its
members, only two small churches being as yet completed; and Sunday
after Sunday do numbers return from St. Peter's, unable to obtain even
standing room beneath the porch. For the gay, there are two circuses
and one theatre, where the "ladies" who frequent it smoke short
tobacco-pipes in the boxes and dress-circle.
The country round is very pretty, particularly Richmond and
Collingwood; the latter will, I expect, soon become part of Melbourne
itself. It is situated at the fashionable--that is, EAST--end of
Melbourne, and the buildings of the city and this suburban village are
making rapid strides towards each other. Of Richmond, I may remark that
it does possess a "Star and Garter," though a very different affair to
its namesake at the antipodes, being only a small public-house. On the
shores of the bay, at nice driving distances, are Brighton and St.
Kilda. Two or three fall-to-pieces bathing-machines are at present the
only stock in trade of these watering-places; still, should some
would-be fashionables among my readers desire to emigrate, it may
gratify them to learn that they need not forego the pleasure of
visiting Brighton in the season.
When I first arrived, as the weather was still very cold and wet, my
greatest source of discomfort arose from the want of coal-fires, and
the draughts, which are innumerable, owing to the slight manner in
which the houses are run up; in some the front entrance opens direct
into the sitting-rooms, very unpleasant, and entirely precluding the
"not at home" to an unwelcome visitor. Wood fires have at best but a
cheerless look, and I often longed for the bright blaze and merry
fireside of an English home. Firewood is sold at the rate of fifty
shillings for a good-sized barrow-full.
The colonists (I here speak of the old-established ones) are naturally
very hospitable, and disposed to receive strangers with great kindness;
but the present ferment has made them forget everything in the glitter
of their own mines, and all comfort is laid aside; money is the idol,
and making it is the one mania which absorbs every other thought.
The walking inhabitants are of themselves a study: glance into
the streets--all nations, classes, and costumes are represented there.
Chinamen, with pigtails and loose trowsers; Aborigines, with a solitary
blanket flung over them; Vandemonian pickpockets, with cunning eyes and
light fingers--all, in truth, from the successful digger in his blue
serge shirt, and with green veil still hanging round his wide-awake, to
the fashionably-attired, newly-arrived "gent" from London, who stares
around him in amazement and disgust. You may see, and hear too, some
thoroughly colonial scenes in the streets. Once, in the middle of the
day, when passing up Elizabeth Street, I heard the unmistakeable sound
of a mob behind, and as it was gaining upon me, I turned into the
enclosed ground in front of the Roman Catholic cathedral, to keep out
of the way of the crowd. A man had been taken up for horse-stealing and
a rare ruffianly set of both sexes were following the prisoner and the
two policemen who had him in charge. "If but six of ye were of my
mind," shouted one, "it's this moment you'd release him." The crowd
took the hint, and to it they set with right good will, yelling,
swearing, and pushing, with awful violence. The owner of the
stolen horse got up a counter demonstration, and every few yards, the
procession was delayed by a trial of strength between the two parties.
Ultimately the police conquered; but this is not always the case, and
often lives are lost and limbs broken in the struggle, so weak is the
force maintained by the colonial government for the preservation of
order.
Another day, when passing the Post-office, a regular tropical shower of
rain came on rather suddenly, and I hastened up to the platform for
shelter. As I stood there, looking out into Great Bourke Street, a man
and, I suppose, his wife passed by. He had a letter in his hand for the
post; but as the pathway to the receiving-box looked very muddy, he
made his companion take it to the box, whilst he himself, from beneath
his umbrella, complacently watched her getting wet through. "Colonial
politeness," thought I, as the happy couple walked on.
Sometimes a jovial wedding-party comes dashing through the streets;
there they go, the bridegroom with one arm round his lady's waist, the
other raising a champagne-bottle to his lips; the gay vehicles
that follow contain company even more unrestrained, and from them
noisier demonstrations of merriment may be heard. These diggers'
weddings are all the rage, and bridal veils, white kid gloves, and,
above all, orange blossoms are generally most difficult to procure at
any price.
At times, you may see men, half-mad, throwing sovereigns, like
halfpence, out of their pockets into the streets; and I once saw a
digger, who was looking over a large quantity of bank-notes,
deliberately tear to pieces and trample in the mud under his feet every
soiled or ragged one he came to, swearing all the time at the
gold-brokers for "giving him dirty paper money for pure Alexander gold;
he wouldn't carry dirt in his pocket; not he; thank God! he'd plenty to
tear up and spend too."
Melbourne is very full of Jews; on a Saturday, some of the streets are
half closed. There are only two pawnbrokers in the town.
The most thriving trade there, is keeping an hotel or public-house,
which always have a lamp before their doors. These at night serve as a
beacon to the stranger to keep as far from them as possible,
they being, with few exceptions, the resort, after dark, of the most
ruffianly characters.
* * * * *
On the 2nd of September, the long-expected mail steamer arrived, and
two days after we procured our letters from the Post-office. I may here
remark, that the want of proper management in this department is the
greatest cause of inconvenience to fresh arrivals, and to the
inhabitants of Melbourne generally. There is but ONE SMALL WINDOW,
whence letters directed to lie at the office are given out; and as the
ships from England daily discharged their living cargoes into
Melbourne, the crowd round this inefficient delivering-place rendered
getting one's letters the work, not of hours, but days. Newspapers,
particularly pictorial ones, have, it would appear, a remarkable
facility for being lost EN ROUTE. Several numbers of the "Illustrated
London News" had been sent me, and, although the letters posted with
them arrived in safety, the papers themselves never made their
appearance. I did hear that, when addressed to an uncolonial name, and
with no grander direction than the Post-office itself, the
clerks are apt to apropriate them--this is, perhaps, only a wee bit of
Melbourne scandal.
The arrival of our letters from England left nothing now to detain us,
and made us all anxious to commence our trip to the diggings, although
the roads were in an awful condition. Still we would delay no longer,
and the bustle of preparation began. Stores of flour, tea, and sugar,
tents and canvas, camp-ovens, cooking utensils, tin plates and
pannikins, opossum rugs and blankets, drays, carts and horses, cradles,
&c. &c., had to be looked at, bought and paid for.
On board ship, my brother had joined himself to a party of four young
men, who had decided to give the diggings a trial. Four other of our
shipmates had also joined themselves into a digging-party, and when
they heard of our intended departure, proposed travelling up together
and separating on our arrival. This was settled, and a proposal made
that between the two sets they should raise funds to purchase a dray
and horses, and make a speculation in flour, tea, &c., on which an
immense profit was being made at the diggings. It would also
afford the convenience of taking up tents, cradles, and other articles
impossible to carry up without. The dray cost one hundred pounds, and
the two strong cart-horses ninety and one hundred pounds respectively.
This, with the goods themselves, and a few sundries in the shape of
harness and cords, made only a venture of about fifty pounds a-piece.
While these arrangements were rapidly progressing, a few other parties
wished to join ours for safety on the road, which was agreed to, and
the day fixed upon for the departure was the 7th of September. Every
one, except myself, was to walk, and we furthermore determined to "camp
out" as much as possible, and thus avoid the vicinity of the inns and
halting-places on the way, which are frequently the lurking-places of
thieves and bushrangers.
* * * * *
On the Sunday previous to the day on which our journey was to commence,
I had a little adventure, which pleased me at the time, though, but for
the sequel, not worth mentioning here. I had walked with my brother and
a friend to St. Peter's Church; but we were a few minutes behind
time, and therefore could find no unoccupied seat. Thus disappointed,
we strolled over Princes Bridge on to the other side of the Yarra.
Between the bridge and the beach, on the south side of the river, is a
little city of tents, called Little Adelaide. They were inhabited by a
number of families, that the rumour of the Victoria gold-mines had
induced to leave South Australia, and whose finances were unequal to
the high prices in Melbourne.
Government levies a tax of five shillings a week on each tent, built
upon land as wild and barren as the bleakest common in England. We did
not wander this morning towards Little Adelaide; but followed the Yarra
in its winding course inland, in the direction of the Botanical
Gardens.
Upon a gentle rise beside the river, not far enough away from Melbourne
to be inconvenient, but yet sufficiently removed from its mud and
noise, were pitched two tents, evidently new, with crimson paint still
gay upon the round nobs of the centre posts, and looking altogether
more in trim for a gala day in Merry England than a trip to the
diggings. The sun was high above our heads, and the day
intensely hot; so much so, that I could not resist the temptation of
tapping at the canvas door to ask for a draught of water. A gentleman
obeyed the summons, and on learning the occasion of this unceremonious
visit, politely accommodated me with a camp-stool and some delicious
fresh milk--in Melbourne almost a luxury. Whilst I was imbibing this
with no little relish, my friends were entering into conversation with
our new acquaintance. The tents belonged to a party just arrived by the
steamer from England, with everything complete for the diggings, to
which they meant to proceed in another week, and where I had the
pleasure of meeting them again, though under different and very
peculiar circumstances. The tent which I had invaded was inhabited by
two, the elder of whom, a powerfully-built man of thirty, formed a
strong contrast to his companion, a delicate-looking youth, whose
apparent age could not have exceeded sixteen years.
After a short rest, we returned to Melbourne, well pleased with our
little adventure.
The next day was hardly long enough for our numerous preparations, and
it was late before we retired to rest. Six was the hour
appointed for the next morning's breakfast. Excited with anticipating
the adventures to commence on the morrow, no wonder that my dreams
should all be GOLDEN ones.
Chapter IV.
CAMPING UP--MELBOURNE TO THE BLACK FOREST
The anxiously-expected morning at length commenced, and a
dismal-looking morning it was--hazy and damp, with a small drizzling
rain, which, from the gloomy aspect above, seemed likely to last. It
was not, however, sufficient to damp our spirits, and the appointed
hour found us all assembled to attack the last meal that we anticipated
to make for some time to come beneath the shelter of a ceiling. At
eight o'clock our united party was to start from the "Duke of York"
hotel, and as that hour drew nigh, the unmistakeable signs of
"something up," attracted a few idlers to witness our departure. In
truth, we were a goodly party, and created no little sensation among
the loungers--but I must regularly introduce our troop to my readers.
First then, I must mention two large drays, each drawn by a pair of
stout horses--one the property of two Germans, who were bound for
Forest Creek, the other belonged to ourselves and shipmates. There were
three pack-horses--one (laden with a speculation in bran) belonged to
a queer-looking sailor, who went by the name of Joe, the other two were
under the care of a man named Gregory, who was going to rejoin his
mates at Eagle Hawk Gully. As his destination was the farthest, and he
was well acquainted with the roads, he ought to have been elected
leader, but from some mis-management that dignity was conferred upon a
stout old gentleman, who had taken a pleasure-trip to Mount Alexander,
the previous summer.
Starting is almost always a tedious affair, nor was this particular
case an exception. First one had forgotten something--another broke a
strap, and a new one had to be procured--then the dray was not
properly packed, and must be righted--some one else wanted an
extra "nobbler"--then a fresh, and still a fresh delay, so that
although eight was the appointed hour, it was noon ere we bade farewell
to mine host of the "Duke of York."
At length the word of command was spoken. Foremost came the gallant
captain (as we had dubbed him), and with him two ship doctors, in
partnership together, who carried the signs of their profession along
with them in the shape of a most surgeon-like mahogany box. Then came
the two Germans, complacently smoking their meerschaums, and attending
to their dray and horses, which latter, unlike their masters, were of a
very restless turn of mind. After these came a party of six, among whom
was Gregory and two lively Frenchmen, who kept up an incessant
chattering. Joe walked by himself, leading his pack-horse, then came
our four shipmates, two by two, and last, our own particular five.
Most carried on their backs their individual property--blankets,
provisions for the road, &c., rolled in a skin, and fastened over the
shoulders by leathern straps. This bundle goes by the name of "swag,"
and is the digger's usual accompaniment--it being too great a
luxury to place upon a dray or pack-horse anything not absolutely
necessary. This will be easily understood when it is known that
carriers, during the winter, obtained 120 pounds and sometimes 150 pounds
a ton for conveying goods to Bendigo (about one hundred miles from
Melbourne). Nor was the sum exorbitant, as besides the chance of a few
weeks' stick in the mud, they run great risk of injuring their horses or
bullocks; many a valuable beast has been obliged to be shot where it
stood, it being found impossible to extricate it from the mud and swamp.
At the time we started, the sum generally demanded was about 70 pounds per
ton. On the price of carriage up, depended of course the price of
provisions at the diggings.
The weight of one of these "swags" is far from light; the provender for
the road is itself by no means trifling, though that of course
diminishes by the way, and lightens the load a little. Still there are
the blankets, fire-arms, drinking and eating apparatus, clothing,
chamois-leather for the gold that has yet to be dug, and numberless
other cumbersome articles necessary for the digger. In every
belt was stuck either a large knife or a tomahawk; two shouldered their
guns (by the bye, rather imprudent, as the sight of fire-arms often
brings down an attack); some had thick sticks, fit to fell a bullock;
altogether, we seemed well prepared to encounter an entire army of
bushrangers. I felt tolerably comfortable perched upon our dray, amid a
mass of other soft lumber; a bag of flour formed an easy support to
lean against; on either side I was well walled in by the canvas and
poles of our tent; a large cheese made a convenient footstool. My
attire, although well suited for the business on hand, would hardly
have passed muster in any other situation. A dress of common dark blue
serge, a felt wide-awake, and a waterproof coat wrapped round me, made
a ludicrous assortment.
Going along at a foot-pace we descended Great Bourke Street, and made
our first halt opposite the Post-office, where one of our party made a
last effort to obtain a letter from his lady-love, which was, alas!
unsuccessful. But we move on again--pass the Horse Bazaar--turn into
Queen Street--up we go towards Flemington, leaving the
Melbourne cemetery on our right, and the flag-staff a little to the
left; and now our journey may be considered fairly begun.
Just out of Melbourne, passing to the east of the Benevolent Asylum, we
went over a little rise called Mount Pleasant, which, on a damp sort of
a day, with the rain beating around one, seemed certainly a misnomer.
After about two miles, we came to a branch-road leading to Pentridge,
where the Government convict establishment is situated. This we left on
our right, and through a line of country thickly wooded (consisting of
red and white gum, stringy bark, cherry and other trees), we arrived at
Flemington, which is about three miles and a half from town.
Flemington is a neat little village or town-ship, consisting of about
forty houses, a blacksmith's shop, several stores, and a good inn,
built of brick and stone, with very fair accommodation for travellers,
and a large stable and stock-yards.
After leaving Flemington, we passed several nice-looking homesteads;
some are on a very large scale, and belong to gentlemen connected
with Melbourne, who prefer "living out of town." On reaching the
top of the hill beyond Flemington there is a fine view of Melbourne,
the bay, William's Town, and the surrounding country, but the miserable
weather prevented us at this time from properly enjoying it. Sunshine
was all we needed to have made this portion of our travels truly
delightful.
The road was nicely level, fine trees sheltered it on either side,
whilst ever and anon some rustic farm-house was passed, or coffee-shop,
temporarily erected of canvas or blankets, offered refreshment (such as
it was), and the latest news of the diggings to those who had no
objection to pay well for what they had. This Flemington road (which is
considered the most Pleasant in Victoria, or at least anywhere near
Melbourne) is very good as far as Tulip Wright's, which we now
approached.
Wright's public-house is kept by the man whose name it bears; it is a
rambling ill-built, but withal pleasing-looking edifice, built chiefly
of weather-board and shingle, with a verandah all round. The whole is
painted white, and whilst at some distance from it a passing ray
of sunshine gave it a most peculiar effect. In front of the principal
entrance is a thundering large lamp, a most conspicuous looking object.
Wright himself was formerly in the police, and being a sharp fellow,
obtained the cognomen of "Tulip," by which both he and his house have
always been known; and so inseparable have the names become, that,
whilst "Tulip Wright's" is renowned well-nigh all over the colonies,
the simple name of the owner would create some inquiries. The state of
accommodation here may be gathered from the success of some of the
party who had a PENCHANT for "nobblers" of brandy. "Nothing but bottled
beer in the house." "What could we have for dinner?" inquired one,
rather amused at this Hobson's choice state of affairs. "The eatables
was only cold meat; and they couldn't cook nothink fresh," was the curt
reply. "Can we sleep here?" "Yes--under your drays." As we literally
determined to "camp out" on the journey, we passed on, without
partaking of their "cold eatables," or availing ourselves of their
permission to sleep under our own drays, and, leaving the road
to Sydney on our right, and the one to Keilor straight before us, we
turned short off to the left towards the Deep Creek.
Of the two rejected routes I will give a very brief account.
The right-hand road leads to Sydney, VIA Kilmore, and many going to the
diggings prefer using this road as far as that township. The country
about here is very flat, stony and destitute of timber; occasionally
the journey is varied by a water-hole or surface-spring. After several
miles, a public-house called the "Lady of the Lake" is reached, which
is reckoned by many the best country inn on this or any other road in
the colonies. The accommodation is excellent, and the rooms well
arranged, and independent of the house. There are ten or twelve rooms
which, on a push, could accommodate fifty or sixty people; six are
arranged in pairs for the convenience of married persons, and the
fashionable trip during the honey-moon (particularly for diggers'
weddings) is to the "Lady of the Lake." Whether Sir Walter's poem be
the origin of the sign, or whether the swamps in the rear, I cannot
say, but decidedly there is no lake and no lady, though I have
heard of a buxom lass, the landlord's daughter, who acts as barmaid,
and is a great favourite. This spot was the scene last May of a
horrible murder, which has added no little to the notoriety of the
neighbourhood.
After several miles you at length arrive at Kilmore, which is a large
and thriving township, containing two places of worship, several stores
and inns. There is a resident magistrate with his staff of officials,
and a station for a detachment of mounted police. Kilmore is on the
main overland road from Melbourne to Sydney, and, although not on the
confines of the two colonies, is rather an important place, from being
the last main township until you reach the interior of New South Wales.
The Government buildings are commodious and well arranged. There are
several farms and stations in the neighbourhood, but the country round
is flat and swampy.
The middle road leads you direct to Keilor, and you must cross the Deep
Creek in a dangerous part, as the banks thereabouts are very steep, the
stream (though narrow) very rapid, and the bottom stony. In 1851, the
bridge (an ordinary log one) was washed down by the floods, and
for two months all communication was cut off. Government have now put a
punt, which is worked backwards and forwards every half-hour from six
in the morning till six at night, at certain fares, which are doubled
after these hours. These fares are: for a passenger, 6d.; a horse or
bullock, 1s.; a two-wheeled vehicle, ls. 6d.; a loaded dray, 2s. The
punt is tolerably well managed, except when the man gets intoxicated--
not an unfrequent occurrence. When there was neither bridge nor punt,
those who wished to cross were obliged to ford it; and so strong has
been the current, that horses have been carried down one or two hundred
yards before they could effect a landing. Keilor is a pretty little
village with a good inn, several nice cottages, and a store or two. The
country round is hilly and barren--scarcely any herbage and that
little is rank and coarse; the timber is very scarce. This road to the
diggings is not much used.
But to return to ourselves. The rain and bad roads made travelling so
very wearisome, that before we had proceeded far it was unanimously
agreed that we should halt and pitch our first encampment.
"Pitch our first encampment! how charming!" exclaims some romantic
reader, as though it were an easily accomplished undertaking. Fixing a
gipsy-tent at a FETE CHAMPETRE, with a smiling sky above, and all
requisites ready to hand, is one thing, and attempting to sink poles
and erect tents out of blankets and rugs in a high wind and pelting
rain, is (if I may be allowed the colonialism) "a horse of quite
another colour." Some sort of sheltering-places were at length
completed; the horses were taken from the dray and tethered to some
trees within sight, and then we made preparations for satisfying the
unromantic cravings of hunger--symptoms of which we all, more or less,
began to feel. With some difficulty a fire was kindled and kept alight
in the hollow trunk of an old gum tree. A damper was speedily made,
which, with a plentiful supply of steaks and boiled and roasted eggs,
was a supper by no means to be despised. The eggs had been procured at
four shillings a dozen from a farm-house we had passed.
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