Letters from Victorian Pioneers to Governor La Trobe, 1853: No 18
Foster Fyans (1790-1870) played a significant role in the European settlement of Victoria and the dispossession of its Aboriginal people. This article examines a letter he wrote in 1853 about his experiences at that time.
Fyans joined the British Army. He served in Crimea, Spain and in India. In 1833 he was transferred to Sydney and was posted to Norfolk Island. There he took charge during a murderous convict mutiny, leading to him being given the infamous epithet of ‘Flogger Fyans’.
In 1837 he came to Port Philip as the first police magistrate of Geelong. He obtained permission to erect the township, chose a site for it and gave it clean water by constructing the Breakwater on the Barwon River.
He then set up the first police force before later becoming the Commissioner of Crown Lands, responsible for the area between the Werribee River and the South Australian border.
Foster Fyans remained in Geelong for the remainder of his life and died on 23 May 1870 at his homestead at Balyang when he was 80 years old.
Foster Fyans Looks Back
Just over 170 years ago, in 1853, the call went out for settlers, who had been in the Port Phillip District since the early years of European occupation, to write down their earliest memories. 58 settlers responded to the request from Governor Charles Joseph La Trobe. This article focuses on just one of those correspondents, one with a distinct Geelong link, Foster Fyans.
La Trobe took those letters with him when his nearly fifteen years of service came to an end and he returned to England. We can be thankful that when ill-health derailed his ambitions, La Trobe sent this correspondence, one amongst many, to his executor in Melbourne with instructions to preserve them for study by future generations. In 1898 this letter, with 57 other pieces of correspondence, was published by the Public Library, Museums and National Gallery of Victoria as Letters from Victorian Pioneers, A Series of Papers on the Early Occupation of the Colony, The Aborigines, Etc.
Captain Foster Fyans provides but one first-hand perspective on life lived in the colony from its first settlement and up until 1853. A close reading will detect some self-serving and gratuitous observations but, all the same, his letter provides compelling and, at times, troubling insights to life lived on the frontiers of European settlement. Readers should be warned that the language used and the events described are confronting. Yet this same dynamic should demand our attention.
Fyans comes across as brash and confident of his cultural superiority and the efficacy of his observations, but his memories and words don’t always sustain such high levels of confidence. In Victoria, the years from 1837 to 1853 were a period of struggle, misappropriation, conflict and trauma and Fyans’ account can leave no reader ignorant of its seismic nature. Despite so much pontification by Fyans, the reader of his reminisces will be surprised to find some tenderness and respect for the people that Foster Fyans manhandled and pushed to the edge of extinction.
Fyans speculates on the estimates of the indigenous population at the time of first settlement and his later census demonstrates the scale of its reduction and the abject state of the few who were left, especially those living close to Geelong. He surmises that the indigenous population of the region, at first contact, was around 3,000 people. He then states that of the 275 men, women and children he mustered on his arrival less than 20 were still alive in 1853. He surmises the reason for this state of affairs as being the introduction of venereal disease, and does not address the endemic violence and murder that he blithely recounts occurred wherever the squatters settled.
After a series of salacious and almost gratuitous observations on the “depredations” by the Aboriginal resisters to the settlers’ arrival, Foster Fyans manages to find some semblance of balance, and he writes that “In all my investigations I found where life was lost that blame was attributable to both sides – to the jealousy of the native and over intimacy of the housekeeper or shepherd, who was one day feeding the natives and the day following beating and driving them from the place.”
Fyans was generous in his praise of the Geelong Aboriginals with whom he worked. He spoke kindly of Balyang saying, “He was a remarkable for his good conduct, decency and good order … he was a particular friend of mine.“ Likewise he praised the bravery, if not the savagery, of Bon Jon, who served with him for four years and commiserated with the elder, Woolmudgeon, who despaired over the death of Bon Jon’s Colac adversary. Fyans’ empathy with Woolmudgeon’s plight is emphasised by his recollection of his repetitive lament “Poor Blackfellow”. The reader can easily read this as more than just the senseless death of one individual and more likely to be representative of an unspoken sorrow generated by the loss of culture, land and kinship.
Foster Fyans does not hold back, and his observations on the character and disposition of his fellow settlers also paint a disturbing picture. After delivering a hagiographic portrait of the gentlemen squatters Fyans takes the gloves off and savages many of his fellow settlers: “Another class of squatters is a kind of shop-boys. A plain man can barely approach them. They have wonderful sources of wealth and comfort, with dirty hearts and no comfort, but with plenty of pipes smoking, grumbling, and discontent.”
Fyans’ sense of justice was very cut and dried, with little scope for understanding the context of a crime or misdemeanour. When Judge Willis finds his tracker, Bon Jon, innocent of murder in defiance of what Fyans sees as “clear evidence”, he denigrates him as “a most disreputable old rip” and speaks cynically of George Augustus Robinson, the Chief Native Protector, into whose care Bon Jon was placed, “to be educated and told not to break the commandments“.
He expresses particular disdain for those settlers who have raised themselves up and says of them, “I have known many of them to become wealthy, and some who did not forget themselves; but most were out of their places, and it would have been better for this community had they remain shepherds rather than becoming masters.” However, Fyans reserves his greatest complaint for the publicans of the district’s inns, when staying in their establishments, “You have to put up with the curses of an ill-looking ruffian – the landlord – who heartily wishes that you never again trouble him, as he is not over fond of gentleman beggars“. He concludes his damning inditement of the qualities of colonial society with this blunt assessment, “For a new colony, only 18 years inhabited, I consider that there is more vice than there is to be found in any part of the world.”
Foster Fyans provides today’s reader with a privileged window into the European occupation and dispossession, by them, of the indigenous people’s lands. These first settlers had gambled everything in a high stakes venture and their preparedness to use all means available to maximise their chances of success is clearly evident in his record. Fyans shows that the pushback by the indigenous people was firmly met; first with a mixture of conciliation and compromise and where that fails, ruthless violence. For the settlers no threat could be ignored and in an environment where ‘might is right‘ the settlers prevailed.
Letter No. 18:
Arrived, by order of General Sir Richard Burke, at Geelong in 1847, where, according to the general directions I was to take an absconded felon on my staff. This man had been a resident in Geelong for 33 years, and was therefore well acquainted with all the natives in that locality. My orders from the General being to assemble as many of the natives as possible, for the purposes of knowing their numbers in this part, due notice was given, and we succeeded in making a large muster of 275 of all classes – men, women, and children. The general sent bales of blankets, slop clothing, dresses for females, shoes, and a large quantity of flour and tea, and two dozen of tomahawks (not issued, but thrown into Moorabool River). These articles were all divided amongst the natives. Unfortunately, a few blankets were deficient, where upon the native men unprovided set up a yell, and became almost frantic, a state of things which instantaneously became general, and the assembly demanded more and more every minute. fearing bad results from my visitors, and from their general demeanour and manner, and becoming somewhat apprehensive, I ordered my two constables to load, and my 10 convicts to fall in close to my hut. The natives saw this preparation, and I kept some distance from them with my double barrel gun, accompanied by Mr Patrick McKeever, District Constable, also armed ; it had the effect of making the natives retire, the interpreter Buckley telling them to do so.
I was exceedingly happy at the result, not having the slightest trust in Buckley; and I may now add, my conviction is that the natives assembled wishing an opportunity to murder every person in the place. After this escape, I never permitted more than a few to approach the place, and when they were kindly treated and provided with some salted pork, which was not much of a delicacy as mutton, but fresh meat was not to be had, and sheep extremely dear and scarce.
A few days followed. I saw a native in a rage take a child giving it many blows, and eventually catching it by the leg, and battering its head against the gumtree. This was on the opposite range of the river. On my arrival at the spot (which took some considerable time, on account of the river winding so much), when I reach the tree I found the evident marks that the child had been killed, and taken from the place, but there was not one native to be seen.
A station at the Leigh was attacked; two men in charge defended a few hundred sheep, driving them before them to another station. I saw some four natives that had been shot dead. I investigated the affray, and gave much credit to the men for their good conduct.
Buninyong, only 50 miles from Geelong, was a thought a great discovery. Some of the few settlers removed to that locality, where many disturbances took place. Shepherds were murdered and sheep stolen. On numerous occasions I have had to visit the place, on complaint of the settlers, and also that I might have it in my power to gain information as to the reported depredations of the natives. I felt convinced convinced of these depredations, and generally found the origin of theft and murder was from an over intimacy on both sides – the women ruling, depraved, and bad; so much of this existed that there was hardly a shepherd without disease. Large families of natives; husband, wife, boys, and girls– were eaten up with venereal disease. The disorder was an introduction from the V.D. Land, and I am of the opinion that two-thirds of the natives of Port Phillip have died from this infection.
During 1837 –8–9, as the country begins to be occupied, I had many journeys to stations, of from 40 to 50 miles, and Buninyong being the most distant. In all my investigations I found where life was lost that blame was attributable to both sides – to the jealousy of the native and over intimacy of the housekeeper or shepherd, who was one day feeding the natives and the day following beating and driving them from the place.
In 1840 I was made Commissioner of Crown Lands. I had 18 troopers. These men were soldiers who were sentenced by court-martial (when serving in America), for desertion, to transportation to N.S. Wales. I never met with a more oddly or steady set of men; they had their horses always in order, and were ready and willing to perform their duty. No pay was allowed by government, and there only remuneration was the common ration. For the seven years I held the office of Commissioner of Crown Lands I had only one man who left me. He deserted to Adelaide. Every man I had could have followed him, and that, too, well mounted. I am glad to say, to their credit not a man followed his example.
In 1839, the squatters in Portland Bay District were very limited in number, not exceeding a dozen. In 1840 very a few joined them, and the revenue in licenses did not exceed £150. In 1842 the district began to become of some notice, and number of the most respectable establishment appeared. In 1843 and 1844 the district was rapidly filling; and during 1845 and 1846 there were 400 licenses granted in a country almost without a European in it in 1839 – and nearly as large as England. Mr Gisborne was the Commissioner of Crown Lands for Port Phillip, which was divided when I was appointed. I may remark on the Portland Bay District – knowing it for years, and having ridden over it some 34,000 miles – that a finer or more beautiful country cannot be. There are parts sandy and barren, but generally the ground is useful, many parts possessing great advantages for pastoral purposes, and many bits of ground being fitted for immediate agricultural purposes, I may safely say, without an outlet for grabbing a tree – so different from New South Wales, where everyone cleared is attended with a serious expense. The district is exceedingly well provided with water; many of the water holes are everlasting, and there are besides reaches of rivers and many fine and valuable springs.
In 1839, by order of Governor George Gibbs, I left Geelong to proceed to Portland Bay. I was allowed three mounted police and seven horses. Mr. Smyth, of the Survey Department, had orders to attend me. The distance was about 220 miles. At that time, the squatting stations were chiefly about the towns. We proceeded, bringing provisions on a pack-horse. We experienced great difficulties and obstructions. In a many instances we had to return for miles, the country being impossible, and seek another route.
We were two days endeavouring to cross a stony range, and had to return to Mount Eeles, without water. we found ourselves surrounded by, I suppose, 150 natives, following us with their spears, yelling and brandishing their waddies. On leaving the range we halted at a tea tree scrub where we found water. We were cooking some pannikins of tea when we heard the native cooey in every direction; this subsided; I suspected that the natives were close to us. I walked down the creek with my gun, first ordering the men to stand to their horses. I returned and told Smyth that the creek, I thought, was full of natives. We took some tea, mounted, and rode about 50 yards, when a formidable number, at least 150 natives, jumped from the brushwood in the creek, making after us for some miles. We escaped them, and we met others, but none would approach us. No inducement could persuade them.
We chased one, to endeavour to make him find water for us near Mount Rouse; he ran fast, and got to a tree, climbing it like a monkey, and letting fly behind on some of the party as he attended to his utmost satisfaction. We were 18 days before we reached Portland after leaving Port Fairy. On our left we met many obstructions on the flat grounds and large swamps in that part of the country, which is intersected by so much by two small rivers, that with difficulty, after some days of consultation as to what we should do (as our stores were all expended) – whether to push on or to return, we came to a determination to endeavour again in the high ground, which we fortunately did on that evening. After spending a truly miserable night, with nothing to eat, plenty of rain, and a good fire, we were glad at daylight to proceed again, when, to our great joy we saw a vessel at anchor in the bay. We descended to the beach, when our hearts failed us. We were pulled up by a large river in front of us. Another consultation took place, when one of the policeman said, “Let us go on to the sea.” In the former instance Smythe thought to keep up the river was our only plan, which we did. Smyth swam across with a sabre in his mouth and got onto the sandhills, when he could see the river, which was close to the sea became a large lagoon. On returning, he explained it was useless to follow down; therefore the party kept up following the river, and rounding some large lagoons. In the second instance we took the advice of an older policeman we reached the beach where a hard sand answered as good as a road. Had we in the first instance travel down to the beach, we could have crossed in like manner, for the river in this neighbourhood has an entrance into the sea. We reached Portland in a few hours, receiving a hardy welcome from Messrs. Henty, who kept a whaling establishment, and were the only residents in the place.
I had his Excellency’s order to make some investigations, and, after a rest of three days our party proceeded towards the Glenelg, to a station held by Messrs. Henty and the Messrs. Winter, on the Wandoo River. After finishing my business in two days, we purchased some provisions to carry with us on our return home. After crossing the Wannon River, we made a new route, almost east; and we met with no kind of obstruction, and were only one day without water. We reached Geelong on the fifth day after leaving the Glenelg. I may remark during this journey we did not meet with any natives; the country was a desolate and uninhabited, and was covered with rich kangaroo grass three and four feet high. At that time I considered the country beautiful, particularly in passing Mount Sturgeon and the long range of conical hills for many miles towards what is now called Mount William. We passed Terrinallum Hill, now called Mount Elephant. Since the journey, I have again visited all these parts. On the hill – Mount Sturgeon – a large stone sits in a cradle; one or two of my policeman move the stones; it is nearly round.
Terrinallum has a large creator, like every other hill in this part; also basins, some of them of great depth and two and three miles in circumference. Three great beauties of the kind are close to Timboon. The country between Timboon and the Hopkins River remind any person lately from home of a nobleman’s park, with expectation of coming soon to a magnificent house. Many a dreary ride I have had over this magnificent, splendid country, lying waste and idle, with an odd flock of sheep here and there and fine, fat bullocks with hundreds of square miles to roam over. This land, for agricultural purposes, none can surpass, and it would maintain thousands and thousands of people by common industry, with a yearly surplus of grain, enough to feed this entire population of Victoria to this 17th day of August 1853. It lies, as formally for years, in the hands of a few squatters at the nominal yearly rental of a squatting lease, which is nothing like the value of the ground.
The country for many miles about Colac nothing can surpass in its fine, rich soil. The lake is in circumference about, I suppose, 14 miles. A few years ago it became almost dry. Visiting it, it was my opinion that it would be in a few years become a large swamp. Of late years it has regained its waters, so much so in May 1852, that it banks were overflowed – the water rushing over the plains into the Barwon and Leigh, and causing the wonderful flood on 20 May 1852. At Geelong the Barwon River rose about 12 feet higher than the highest flood experienced since my arrival in 1837, destroying a vast deal of property, and carrying the bridge away on Barwon River, Geelong, and also several others.
The squatting population consists of such various classes of person that is impossible to speak of it as a body. Many of the squatters are gentlemen, worthy and excellent men, of undoubted character and well connected at home. Mount Emu is a beautiful country. A noble pack of hounds was kept up by gentlemen squatter who made every season, hunting twice or thrice a week, and meeting at each other’s houses, where good cheer and happy and good society were ever to be met. I have sat down with 30 gentlemen at Mr Goldsmith’s to an excellent dinner given by the gentleman. There was an ample provision of all that was good set before his guests, who, one and all, had hearty and joyful faces, talking of tomorrow and the days sport before them. We retired to rest on our shakedowns on the floor at 11 o’clock; at daybreak the master of the hounds, a squatter, sounded his bugle; shortly after, his second, for breakfast; and in half an hour is third bugle, when I find pack of dogs let loose from the kennel appeared, fall of life and glee, lead away by the well-known master of the hounds, Compton Ferrers, followed by 30 well mounted gentleman squatters. The game was not far distant. In half an hour we came on the scent of a native dog; he had a long start; the pack took up the scent, and followed at breast high; the ground was rather moist; some horsemen were thrown out; but there were twenty in at the death, after passing over some sixteen miles of ground without one check. The wild dog is noble sport; and as to the day I speak of, I doubt even if Leicestershire ever turned out a better pack or a better set of sportsman in a field during a season.
On the following day I had the pleasure of again meeting the same party, and on many occasions after this. I may now remark, in a country like this, where dissipation prevails, among this class of gentlemen squatters in no instance, did any man exceed, or forget that he was a gentleman.
Another class of squatters is a kind of shop-boys. A plain man can barely approach them. They have wonderful sources of wealth and comfort, with dirty hearts and no comfort, but with plenty of pipes smoking, grumbling, and discontent. Four seasons I had would be just the same – on one side of the door you will see an aged tobacco plant There is no garden – no vegetables, but bones, rotten sheep skins, and filthy plenty. Inside the door there was often a large hole in the mud floor worn by the heels of persons going in, and, if not aware of this, ten to one that you had a chance of upsetting the table, tin dishes, and greasy mutton chops. As to beds, this gentry are not particular. I lay on one for hours in great torment, tired and wishing for sleep; I envied five or six who was snoring close about me. Sleep I could not, from something hard and long under my loins. I took my knife, cut the sacking when I pulled out the leg of a sheep with a long piece of hide as crisp as a toast. Here is a country yielding all that man can require for only a little labour. It abounds in a class who care for nothing excepting self interest. For years they have the same hut; not so much as a drop of milk; for breakfast, hysonskin (a cheaper grade of green tea), mutton chops swimming in fat, and damper; damper and fat chops for dinner; hysonskin and the same for supper. No deviation even in Lent.
Another class consists of old shepherds. I have known this class to grow rich, the master poor, and in time the worthy would become the licensed squatter. I have known many of them to become wealthy, and some who did not forget themselves; but most were out of their places, and it would have been better for this community had they remain shepherds rather than becoming masters. Litigation is a favourite rule, and almost anything can be gained by an overwhelming evidence.
I stated that on my arrival I mustered 275 natives. So many years have passed over that at the present day, August 22, 1853, I feel assured that not more than 20 aborigines are living about Geelong. Some were children when I came, and within the lapse of these few years have become aged and crept. The life of the aborigines cannot be of long duration; and I am of the opinion longevity is unknown. Balyang was held up to be more respected than any native in this place; he was a remarkable for his good conduct, decency and good order; he was very polite and constantly sending presents of oysters and bustards. He was a particular friend of mine. By some means he became possessed of an old musket, of which I on many occasions told him to be careful, or he would shoot himself, urging that it would be better for him to use his spear and boomerang. He laughed, saying the gun was better. This remarkably fine old man went to the Werribee river to shoot bustards. As he was one morning leaving his miam, on pulling the gun, the lock went off, and the contents of the charge went through his body. He died in a few minutes, leaving some three wives and four young boys. One of the boys is still living in Geelong or the neighbourhood. He cannot be more than nineteen or twenty years of age; but for a stranger to look at him he must consider him an old man. Woolmudgon was always with his old relative, old Balyang, until the latter died when he lived with Mr. Fisher for some years. He was taken care of, and well provided for on the establishment, his father having been killed, and his old friend Balyang gone, so that he remained almost an inmate. As he grew rapidly, he became a man in a few years; his habits changed; he withdrew himself for weeks; on returning he would only laugh at all questions put to him, saying “The bush better than house, plenty of grubs good as mutton.“ Of clothes he had always a good supply but when he left in the morning well dressed if he returned in the afternoon he was always naked. He placed no value on anything. The latter days of this youth (he was about 20 years of age) was spent in drunkenness and riot. He was nearly 6 feet high, powerful and strong man, but disease and filth gave him the appearance of age. He died near Geelong from inflammation.
Bon Jon, another of old Balyang’s tribe, lived with me for some four years. He was a stout lad, very civil and useful. He always attended on me in the bush, and was often with me for a space of three or four months, going from one station to another, and during that time never seeing one of his tribe. I was passing Colac, and remained at Mr. Murray’s for the night. The tribe had a camp near at hand. Some seven men accompanied by a couple of women, came to us, covered with white paint – a death warning, the women’s faces torn and bleeding, the men carrying spears, langeels, and waddies. Spoke to Mr Murray. Mr Murray immediately told me their intentions, viz., “To kill my boy, Bon Jon.“ Pointing to the men, I told the boy, who, in a cool way replied, “I know it; I am ready for them,“ letting out a volley of abuse at the party. Taking his pistol, and caulking it, “Come on Merrijig,“ he cried to the doctor, who came for the purpose of extracting Bon Jon’s kidney fat. He defied all. For safety, I made the boy stay inside the house all night. The natives remained lurking about for an opportunity to murder him. This animosity was caused by the death of a native, who happened to be at a corroboree near Geelong; it was, therefore needful that Geelong native should die. On the following morning a numerous collection presented themselves, demanding Bon Jon, with a promise not to kill him, but merely to extract the kidney fat. I asked him if he would be satisfied to undergo this operation. “Me give,“ said he, “if you wish it,“ showing his pistol’s clean new flints, and his sabre as bright and sharp as a razor. All he required from me was a liberty to have a quarrel on this ground. We mounted and left. About two miles from Colac we met some natives on their way to Colac from the mission station. Approaching us, and seeing Bon Jon, they were quite taken back, and ran from us immediately; in fact, the party were on their way to partake of Bon Jon’s kidney fat, and femoral bits.
The boy was very brave; in fact, he had no fear; he begged me to let him “only kill one with the big knife,“ stating that he would not fire, and pointing out one who had a fine lubra, saying, “If you let me kill him, I will get his wife.“ I had on many occasions tried the courage of this savage boy. Near Port Fairy in 1843, a shepherd was most barbarously murdered by natives, which attracted the attention of the police. I was out for many days with a party of seventeen mounted border police. The weather was cold and wet, and we suffered in many ways. We were on horseback from daylight to night, examining all the creeks and stony land between Port Fairy and Eumeralla. We spent ten days in this way, and not a black did we fall in with. We were compelled to give up, owing to want of provisions and sickness. On the following morning, accompanied by Bon Jon, we set to seek a passage for our dray in order to get away. We went about seven miles, and, meeting with great obstacles, returned in another direction, finding a better country. When we came within two miles of our camp, on turning a tea-tree copse, we met a most powerful native, and on asking questions, he related to Bon Jon that the clothes he had on belonged to the dead man at Mr Richie’s. It was a wet day. Bon Jon said “This is the fellow that we been looking for.“ Again asking him if he had been at Mr Richie’s, and enquiring about the man and clothes, we have confirmed; we threw our cloaks off; the native dashed his spear– spear through and through Bon Jon’s. Bon Jon pulled out his pistol, snapped it, and missed fired; pulled out his sabre and dashed after him, when horse and all fell among the rocks and stones in a deep galley. We did all in our power to apprehend the savage but we could not; he had four spears, langeel and shield; with one blow – he lunged the sharp end of the langeel through my horses nose; as we came up with him the tribe through many spears at us, making off; the man was left to us. Jumping on a large mound of rock and loose stones, held out, “Come on white B____ “; at the same time throwing his last spear at Bon Jon. He was not to be seen in a second. This native went into Port Fairy some days after, showing his shield with the sabre cut on it.
Some months after this, in Geelong, Bon Jon became quite changed; he no longer had a wish to follow me or wear his dress. Away with his tribe constantly, he came to me occasionally; he still had a strong grudge against Colac tribe; he came to me one day saying, “One fellow down here with a gin,“ and that he would kill him. I desired him not. He was as good as his word. He loaded a carbine, followed the unhappy black with his gun, and shot him dead. Bon Jon and the gin, who is now occupying his time and attention came back, and eat, drank and were merry. Hearing of the murder, I had Bon Jon apprehended; he was quite indignant, asking me if I had forgotten the tribe that had wanted his kidney fat. Bon Jon was tried before Judge Willis, a most disreputable old rip, who I think was in consort with the devil, for, though the evidence was clear, Bon Jon was most honourably acquitted, and handed over to another booby of fame, old Robinson, a native protector, to be educated and told not to break the commandments. Bon Jon was killed shortly after this in a scurry with some natives at a corrobboree. Over the body of the Colac native an inquest was held. I took Woolmudgen to see the remains. On showing him the head, the back part of the skull being carried away, he wept bitterly; and threw himself on the ground, roaring and screaming; for many days he appeared in sad distress, and long and many a time he spoke of the deed to me, always repeating the words “Poor Blackfellow.“ These natives are all dead now, and as far as I can learn, only one remains of poor old Balyang’s friends. From long experience, particularly in Portland Bay District, I am convinced that the number of aborigines in 1837 in this district could not exceed 3000, and I feel thoroughly convinced that the race will be extinct in 20 years or less. In this district I met a native, his breast, arms, and body muscular, and in fine proportions; his legs were like fins, and not larger than those of an infant. This poor cripple followed his tribe, travelling many miles during the day; he sat in a piece of bark tied around his loins.
Emus and kangaroos on our arrival with plentiful in all parts of the district; also bustards in large blocks of from ten to twenty or forty, or perhaps more. The bustards are now scarce, and only met with in distant places. The kangaroo and emu are nearly extinct in the district; the country is almost void of game. Quails in years gone by were plentiful, but I think are fast disappearing; snipe we have in the season, but not in the same abundance as in other countries; we have also the painted snipe, the same bird that has met with in all parts of India; black ducks, large, and a delicacy; also various small ducks, and wood ducks etc.; the bronzewing pigeon, a gamebird, fully equal to English partridge; black swans – useless and ugly; snakes have many descriptions, and some exceedingly bold – more so than I have known them in India. The longest snake I have met did not exceed 6 feet. For an idler or a sportsman, this country affords nothing, and for a military officer it is the most damnable quarter in the world. There is nothing in the shape of sport except in the season a few snipe and quail; then it ends until the next September. At the approach of the snipe season, when you seek your “Forsyth“ or “Joe Manton,“ to brush it up for the sport, it is more than probable that you’ll seek in vain, for some good and trusty servant has made in his own. Borrowing (as it is termed) these implements is common but once taken by this class of gentry from your home they are never regained.
Of all impositions inflicted on mankind an inn in this district is the most dreadful abomination. It appears to me the licensee considers only one duty, that is, to persecute and victimise the traveller. The law makes provision for decency, but the landlord disregards it after a license is granted; his sole object is money – not to make it honestly by a return of common comfort; his bill is the object, and pay it you must, though five hundred per cent. is overcharged. What could a man have in any part of England staying at a hotel for a night, if you expended £2? I should think such an outlay amongst the middle classes would be unknown, but in Victoria the £2 pounds would not afford you “a nobbler“. You have to put up with the curses of an ill-looking ruffian – the landlord – who heartily wishes that you never again trouble him, as he is not over fond of gentleman beggars. The landlord is generally to be seen playing quoits in front of the hut with a pipe in his mouth, cursing and swearing, and surrounded by half a dozen idle, drunken men – the stable keeper always sticking close to his master, to swear by him, right or wrong, for a nobbler. These games amuse some travellers, for a fight is generally the result; and in all instances, as one passes through the country, the landlord sports, a black eye or two. The interior of the hut is generally built of wood and weatherboards;the floor is boarded, and a fine rattling breeze rushes in at all parts. Your company is not very refined – all smoking, spitting, singing loudly, and riding; cursing and damming Governors, and formally Crown Lands Commissioners. Races for saddles and bridals, and cock fights got up; you were told of fine bullock drivers, and that Tim was the fellow to shear sheep, with flat contradictions now and again, which nearly lead to a bout, but often with the destruction of the landlord’s all, in the shape of a half a dozen wine glasses, and large assortment of tin pannikins. In short, one of these licensed huts may be turned inside out during the row, and be nothing the worst for it on the following morning. A fortune is realised soon in one of these district hotels; and, when made, the landlord sells his goodwill of the place, always to a very good man – in short the best man in the world – who, once installed, is soon found to be a deeper vagabond than the former. These huts, though built on government land, are private property transferred from one to another many pay for the Goodwill £800, the house not being worth £30. £1000 is commonly paid down, and I have known £1500 paid in cash for a hut of this kind.
The stable, as it is called, is a place tossed up of all manner of things; it has a kind of a roof, with a slab sides of the rudest material, and is often dangerous in passing, from all spike nails and broken bottles; and dung and filth are there a foot or too deep; at the head of the store is an old gin case fixed as a manger for oaten hay. If you neglect your poor horses, not a bite of straw it will get; and if you order some oats to feed him, the hostler is generally nimble in getting and giving; he on this occasion is more than civil, as a profit falls to him, the corn being a generally found by him, and the more profit the better for him. This worthy has his measure, and fills it to the brim; at the bottom he has his thumb hole, whereby he deposits the best part back for himself. A man who has a horse has almost to fight for his grub, paying dear for it. At the present time the expenses of a night for one horse at a bush inn will cost the owner twenty shillings. A licensed man keeping a bush inn can charge as he thinks fit; but his great game formally, before the gold, was the shepherd or hut-keeper on his way to town with his cheque for perhaps a year or two year’s wages. This unfortunate man was generally overwhelmed with kindness, made drunk, and kept so for three, four, or five days; on regaining his senses, he naturally seeks his hard earnings, which are not to be found; he applies to the landlord, who tells him that he’s in debt, that the £60 is expended. Asking – “How?“ Repeats the host, “Do you forget the shout? You stood the shout for all hands?“ “You are in debt now £5, and I should keep your gun and pack until I am paid,“ says the landlord, pushing the unhappy fellow from his door perhaps without a rag to his back. For a new colony, only 18 years inhabited, I consider that there is more vice than there is to be found in any part of the world.
On my arrival in Melbourne in 1837, Captain Lonsdale, 4th K.O. Regiment, was police magistrate, having a guard of soldiers – some 40 men. The captain had a very small wooden hut; the military, one as bad. The few houses are unworthy of notice, excepting the police office. This was a square building or nearly show; the walls were sods, and the roof was covered with sods, without windows or a door. From this rude state of things and a lapse of 16 years, the town of Melbourne has become a large, a population, and almost an overgrown city, with a population of 80,000, and the surrounding country for miles covered with houses. In the annals of history, nothing equals the rapid progress of this wonderful place.
The great mistake my good and worthy friend Sir Richard Burke made in not placing Melbourne where Geelong is. As to Geelong – with many advantages of Melbourne, it is exceedingly backward. The trade of this place compared with Melbourne is nothing; merchants are few, but good honest sterling men; but, suffering as they do, great discontent prevails. Our ships and our letters generally go first to Melbourne; the only obstacle to our shipping is the bar. For years and years application has been made by the inhabitants to the government for assistance in clearing it away. Not one shilling has been expended, excepting by the inhabitants, who have paid a surveyors expenses time after time. Their work hangs in an office, and the bar remains untouched, and it is very likely to remain so for long and many a day. If this bar was removed, and shipping came up to the town, Geelong must become a place of vast importance. It has a fine harbour, and great advantages over Melbourne. That most excellent Governor-General Sir R Burke, made a choice, and placed Melbourne where it stands. He also visited Geelong. He was delighted with the place and country; he remained 14 days, and having confirmed the site of Melbourne, I suppose he did not wish to alter it. This is to be lamented, for if Melbourne had been placed where Geelong stands, it would become as beautiful a city as in the world. The locality is pleasing, cheerful, beautiful, and helpful, with a fine rising situation; a scenery grand and magnificent. Melbourne does not possess one of these advantages, lying low, with bad approaches on every side. Geelong increases but slowly. A few years ago the census gave a population of 7000, but at the present time there must be a population of 25,000, which daily increases from all parts of the world. Notwithstanding the mixture of people, the place is exceedingly orderly. We have four small steamboats between this and Melbourne daily, making fortunes for their owners; large vessels lie at Point Henry, four miles across the bay; but small vessels, under 300 tons, come to the jetty and discharge. The chief trade of the town until the times changed so much on account of the gold mania was, tallow, and hides. Wool was a considerable item in the shipments. From 25,000 to 30,000 bales were embarked yearly at Point Henry, in large ships from 700 to 2000 tons; but from the effects of the gold mines I am of the opinion that a great decrease will take place in the shipments of this article.
You are aware of all the goals – the ruin of the colony.
I shall never forget Mr Wentworth (the watchhouse is not fitted for a gentleman) and his bow to His Honour the Superintendent, who was sitting in the corner of the slab but on a stool with three legs; His Honours graceful recognition of the salute – His Honour rising with dignity, when the stool upset, making a noise, to the disgust of Mr Pat McKeever, Chief Constable of Little Pedlington; the death of the black horse, the vet.doctor, the CCL giving copious glisters and bleeding; His Honour sighing ; the Vet privately telling him there is no hope; the burial in paddock, with a case of bricks to the memory of the departed. I remember well the doctor coming into the hut when we were at dinner. “Here comes that infernal rip“; Dr enters; host rises to greet him; “How are you, Dr? – sit down, and take something; we are so glad to see you,” with a hearty shake of the hand.
Source: https://archive.org/details/lettersfromvicto00publiala/page/114/mode/2up?view=theater
Further Reading on the topic:
Letters from Victorian Pioneers to Governor La Trobe, 1853 by Dr Dianne Reilly AM. This article published in 2018 provides the interested reader with excellent background information.
Frontier Magistrate: The Enigmatic Foster Fyans by John Cary. This recent book provides a detailed account of the life of Foster Fyans which shines a light on the early European settlement of the colony and the settlers’ clashes with Aboriginal people. John Cary also reveals Fyans’ changing response to their dispossession.
