3. Farming and small townships, 1820-1860

In the forty years from 1820 to 1860, Clarence developed from a lightly-inhabited area of scattered

farms, to a more heavily populated district with more intensive farming, two towns and a few

industries. The population grew six-fold, from 245 to 1612, 2% of Tasmania’s total,1 and the number

of establishments (farms, blocks of land, houses, inns and so on) grew from 82 to 266. The greatest

events of the four decades were the introduction of steam ferries in 1832, which meant faster and

more reliable transport to and from Hobart; the end of the convict system and then self-government

in the 1850s, which had little immediate effect on Clarence; and the gold rush to Victoria, which led

to a great increase in the price of primary products as demand grew. It also meant that many young

men went to Ballarat to dig for gold, and labour must have been short for a while. There are no

reports of men making fortunes at the diggings, and John Stokell worked out that his party of four

would have been better off staying at home and working there; but Edward Musk did bring enough

home to buy a farm at South Arm.2

Meanwhile, the original inhabitants of Clarence almost disappeared from view. Until about

1819, the two races had lived together reasonably peacefully, but the spread of settlement brought

conflict. People in the bush, especially bushrangers and convict workers, felt threatened by

Aborigines and so killed them and kidnapped women and children, even treating these activities as

sport. The Aborigines retaliated, and conflict spread. The authorities deplored such behaviour but

did not have the manpower to stop it, and it was widespread3 – though not in Clarence, as the spread

of settlement had forced the Moomairremener to move out by 1819 in order to find food. There is

little mention of any Aborigines in the area once European settlement began in earnest.

In the 1820s Governor Arthur placed the Aborigines under the protection of British law,

though he was unable to enforce this. When a band of 64 Aborigines from the Oyster Bay tribe (of

which the Moomairremener were part) visited Hobart, Arthur provided food, clothing, police

protection and a temporary place to stay, and urged the population to treat the Aborigines with

‘utmost kindness’ but not supply them with intoxicating liquor. They set up a camp on Bellerive

Bluff, and for about two years came and went peacefully, called by Europeans ‘the tame mob’. But

when three Europeans were speared to death on the east coast in 1826, two of the group were

1 Census 1857 in Statistics of Tasmania 1860; Hookey The Chaplain pp 99, 115; H O’May p 18 2 Collins p 46; Bezzant p 90

captured and tried, found guilty and hanged, and the rest of the group decamped and never returned.

No other groups of Aborigines were recorded as living in Clarence. Robert Evans of Muddy Plains

said in 1830 that he had not seen any for years, though some used to come to his house until about

six years earlier and were not mischievous, though they were inclined to pilfer; and Sarah Mather,

also of Muddy Plains, stated that people said there were some in the district, but she never saw any.4

The later ‘Black War’, with martial law, searches for Aborigines and Robinson’s trips of

reconciliation, took place outside Clarence.

But a few Aboriginal children lived in Clarence. In 1822 ‘a coloured Girl by a Native

Woman’ was living with John Gibson, who reported that he intended paying fees for her to attend the

Clarence Plains school. She was eleven, and could already read. Until about 1831 another

Aboriginal girl lived with the Alwyn family who ran the ‘Clarence Arms’ hotel, and two years later

Robert Knopwood baptised Rebecca, born in 1821, whom he described as ‘a native girl of Van

Demons Land’. No parents’ names were given. On the same day another child was baptised and in

his diary Knopwood mentioned that he christened two children at Mr Roberts’, so perhaps Rebecca

was living with this family. So it was possible for Aboriginal people to live within the white

community, but few did so, and there is no information as to what happened to these children. There

is a post-script to the story: in 1867 an Aboriginal woman, Cooneana, died in the Hobart Hospital

aged about seventy. She belonged to the Moomairremener, and had been with those Aborigines who

had been sent to Flinders Island then Oyster Cove.5

All through this period, most Clarence people lived by farming, either running farms or

working as agricultural labourers. In 1819 there were 67 farms in Clarence; in 1858 there were 107,

so the number of farms grew as more areas were cultivated. But even by 1826, the surveyor Wedge

wrote that though there was a large proportion of good land in Clarence, most had been taken up,

except for the hills behind Kangaroo Point.6

In the 1820s most farms in Clarence were small, owned by ex-convicts. Edward Curr,

manager for the Van Diemen’s Land Company in the north, gave a negative view of farming in

3 Bonwick pp 38-59 4 HTG 5.11.24; Bonwick pp 59-60; Ryan pp 79, 90; West pp 269, 271; CBE 1/1 p 17, 18 March 1830 5 AOT CSO 1/240/5809 p 160, Baptismal entry in register NS 373/12, 11.3.33; Nicholls p 611. It was not possible to find out anything more about Rebecca, especially as no family name was given for her; Mercury 12.7.1867

Tasmania at this time. Waste, disorder and an absence of industry and economy were typical, he

wrote. Agriculture did not prosper, and sheep brought a better return. Most farmhouses were built of

sods, logs or mud, thatched with straw, and had a ‘disgusting appearance’ due to confused heaps of

machinery, firewood, wool, bones and sheepskins, with dogs barking and ‘idlers’ lounging about.

Farms were rarely enclosed or divided into fields. The mistress of the house was ‘too frequently’ a

convict or ex-convict. Curr assumed that convicts could not do well, that they would continue the

‘idleness and profligacy’ which had sent them to Tasmania in the first place. Kangaroo Point,

Clarence Plains and Ralphs Bay contained about a hundred such small farms, he wrote. Another

English visitor, Henry Widowson, also had a poor opinion of farms in Clarence. Clarence Plains was

of very little use except to collect firewood, he wrote after his visit in 1825, and Muddy Plains

scarcely deserved notice, as it was just a few small farms. There were ‘a few pleasant farms’ in

Cambridge, including two extensive dairy farms, and near the Bluff the sheep and cattle were in good

condition although the ground was sandy with little herbage. But there was some progress. Whereas

a few years before people used hoes to break up their land, now even the poorest farmer used a

plough and bullock team.7

Certainly many former convicts, without knowledge or experience, did not prosper on their

farms, and as Hobart developed and offered more employment – sometimes in areas in which these

men were trained – many sold their farms and moved to town. Their farms were generally bought by

successful farmers to enlarge their own properties, so the number of small farms fell. But other ex-

convicts prospered, and Clarence Plains in particular retained many such farms. Some convict

families were outstandingly successful, such as the Chipmans and Morrisbys – James Morrisby’s son

was so renowned for his ploughing skills that he became champion ploughman of Tasmania.8

Problems continued for all farmers. Sheep and cattle were lost, strayed or stolen, as a

newspaper story of 1824 illustrates. Reports of sheep stealing at Cambridge had Kangaroo Point

inhabitants on the alert, but even though flocks were kept under the windows of their owners’ houses,

scarcely a night passed without a sheep or two taken. One Saturday evening a young girl, alone in a

house with a flock of sheep yarded nearby, saw a man take a sheep, throw it over the fence of the

yard, climb over, pick up the sheep and vanish into the bush. Next day two sheep were missing from

the flock. The local constable started a search, and found two still-warm sheep carcasses at a house

6 Wedge p 31, 11.11.26 7 Curr pp 2, 12-16, 60, 63, 119; Widowson pp 79, 101-2

in the neighbourhood. The tenant could not explain them, but then another of the ‘gang’, a butcher,

was seen throwing the carcasses out of a back window. The two men were remanded for further

examination. People who lived by the water were vulnerable to thieves coming by boat, and in 1837

two men were sentenced to transportation for life for stealing five sheep from William Gellibrand at

South Arm, killing them, removing the carcasses in a boat and selling them. As well as stealing

sheep, people trespassed on properties and sometimes removed fencing. Then there were low prices,

from which farmers suffered in 1828 and the early 1840s, when times were depressed.9

The weather could also present problems. Sometimes seasons were excellent; ‘I never see so

fine crops; the season has been so very fine and plenty of grass’, wrote Knopwood, the clergyman, in

1825. But there was also plenty of bad weather – gales with constant hail, rain and snow, snow lying

two feet deep, and crops harmed by too much rain. During droughts the country was ‘dreadfully

parchd up’ and there was not enough feed for the cattle; once there was no rain for ten months, and in

1834 there was so little water that people had to send to Hobart for it, which was expensive and

difficult. Heat made matters worse. In 1837 it was 108° (42°C) in the shade, which destroyed fruit in

gardens and crops in fields. No wonder Knopwood often described rain as ‘most delightful’.10

From Knopwood’s diary, other writings and advertisements of properties for sale, a picture

can be built up of farming activities. As in the early years, the main crops were wheat, barley, oats,

and grass for hay, and vegetables included potatoes and peas, ‘Indian corn’ (sweet corn?), onions and

turnips – at Droughty Point Daniel Stanfield had great success with onions, potatoes and other

vegetables. A selling point for properties was growing English, or ‘artificial’ grasses, considered

better for stock than native grass. Land was ploughed in September-October, crops were sown from

September to November, grass was cut in December, and other crops were harvested in January-

February. Wheat could be ground at the Rokeby mill, which in 1843 was described as in perfect

order – ‘a steady man can get constant employment in grinding the grain grown in the

neighbourhood’.11

Some people went to great lengths to reproduce the way and appearance of life they had

known in England. The Strachan family of Cambridge had hawthorn plants packed in a dry cask and

8 Halliday p 29 9 HTC 21.3.31, 19.1.28; Bent’s News 13.5.37; HTG 4.10.23, 13.5.26; True Colonist 26.6.35; Colonial Advocate 1.7.28; Lloyd p 14 10 Nicholls pp 463-4, 523, 558, 593-595, 596, 598, 602, 621, 622, 625, 646, 673

shipped from England, an eight-month trip, to create a hawthorn hedge. The fields of the Rokeby

estate also had hawthorn hedges, and a report praised the owner for ‘his truly English style of

managing his estate’, and recommended visiting the hedges in spring for the sake of Auld Lang

Syne.12 Others, notably Dr James Murdoch, experimented with different crops. He arrived in 1822,

set up practice in Hobart and had a farm at Risdon, where he grew various herbs and opium, from

which he made medicines. In 1834 he gave a newspaper editor some seeds, to give to any farmer

who wanted to grow this useful crop. After he moved to a larger farm near Cambridge, Craigow, he

grew the usual crops of wheat and hay, and also sugarbeet, telling the editor that this was an excellent

crop which any farmer could grow. It was easy to make your own sugar, and you could make

wholesome small beer from the molasses you produced, while the refuse was good food for pigs.13

But neither opium nor sugarbeet became a popular crop in Clarence.

Though Clarence was an excellent fruit-growing area, in this period fruit was mainly grown

for home consumption, as the market was small and long sailing trips made export difficult. But

there was interest in fruit: in 1827 Michael Lawler collected 30 apples in one year from a newly-

grafted apple tree, and enterprising Daniel Stanfield was the first to export apples from Tasmania, in

1828 sending some seedling apples to the Horticultural Society of Edinburgh. One was a foot in

circumference and appeared beautiful, wrote the Society, but as the fruit had passed through the

tropics it had decayed too much for the recipients to estimate the flavour.14

For most farmers, grazing stock was as important if not more so as growing crops, and

advertisements show that in most cases only a small proportion of a farm was cultivated, such as 200

acres out of 1200, 10 out of 195. Sheep and cattle were the most important animals, and some

farmers grazed them on areas outside Clarence; Henry Morrisby had a stockyard 120 miles away,

probably in the midlands. As farmers prospered more fencing appeared, and in the late 1820s

William Rumney of Acton Vale was the first to fence his land to any great extent. Fencing was a big

selling point in advertisements. By about 1840 most claimed at least some fencing; in 1832 part of

Seymour Cottage farm was ‘stumped and paddocked’ and ‘nearly fenced’, but ten years later the

farm had a post and rail fence. Various attributes made a farm more desirable. Waterfront land could

11 Nicholls pp 474, 504, 546, 558, 562, 563, 575, 579, 622, 623, 640, 643, 670, 673, 675, 676; HTA 25.4.53; HTC 31.1.29, 17.10.29, 22.5.35, 13.10.43 12 Wedge, p 29, 20.8.26; Mercury 11.9.58 13 HTC 6.6.34, 3.1.34; True Colonist 14.10.36. ‘Herbs’ come from Wayn Index, AOT, though absent from reference stated.

be useful, as people could collect shells for lime or manure, or seaweed as a fertiliser, and water

transport was handy, a selling point in advertisements. Fresh water was another selling point, and

properties on permanent streams or near permanent marshes or lagoons were fortunate. As time went

by water could be better stored against drought, and in 1853 Droughty Point had a brick tank to store

water. Firewood was another bonus, and a supply of eucalypt or sheoak was valuable for home use

or to sell.15

Farming became more lucrative as markets were developed. In the 1820s Richard Lewis of

Hollow Tree (Cambridge) was the first to succeed in sending butter to the Hobart market, and at

South Arm, Gellibrand supplied oysters for Hobart. As Hobart expanded the market for primary

produce grew, but the real boost in prices came in the gold rushes in the 1850s, when the price of

farm produce rose with the enormously increased demand from Victoria. George Stokell, who had

been nearly bankrupt, recovered his financial position because of high prices following the gold rush.

Onions grown at South Arm were even said to have been sent to the larger gold rush market of

California, where they brought ‘fabulous sums’.16

By 1858 the average size of a farm was 400 acres, and a farm of 250 acres advertised for sale

was described as ‘small’. Of the 107 farms, eleven were large, over 1000 acres, altogether taking up

more than half the total acreage, and there were only forty very small farms, under 100 acres, typical

of the farms ex-convicts had run in earlier years. Over half the total number of farms were owned by

their occupiers, and the rest were rented, often from other Clarence inhabitants. Well over half the

farms were in Clarence Plains or Cambridge, the largest agricultural areas, and others were at Muddy

Plains and South Arm, with a few around Kangaroo Point and Risdon. At South Arm, George

Gellibrand rented out six farms and nineteen pieces of land to individual farmers.17

One man tried an unusual way of making a living. In the 1820s a Mr King bought Betsey

Island, which always had problems due to a lack of water. King knew that the skins of silver rabbits

sold well in China, and he imported several pairs and let them loose. By 1830 they had ‘overrun’ the

island, and King started to kill them. He sold the meat in Hobart, where it was seen as a luxury, and

the skins in China, where, it was reported, they did fetch a high price and he did amazingly well. On

14 Tipping pp 188-9; Stanfield and Mannering pp 21-22 15 Nicholls 509, 537, 610; Ross 1829 pp 68, 76-77; HTC 7.2.29, 21.4.32, 9.12.42; HTA 25.4.533 16 Ross 1829 pp 68, 76-77; Halliday p 45; H O’May p 38 17 Valuation roll, HTG 25.5.58; HTC 22.11.54

Betsey Island he fenced two paddocks and built a stone house. But something went wrong, and in

1832 he put the island on the market.18

Most people, however, followed conventional trades. As the population increased, some

people started their own businesses, such as shoemakers, builders and publicans, and some of these

employed other people. The registers of deaths from 1826 to 1860, while obviously not covering the

whole population, provide figures which give an idea of the range of occupations. People either did

the following work or lived in families which were supported by it:

Farmers 44%

Unskilled workers 15% labourers, servants, carrier, pedlar, barman

Semi-skilled workers 12% boatmen, housekeeper, gardener, sawyer, bricklayer, laundress,

salt boiler

Skilled tradesmen 9% carpenters, blacksmiths, shoemakers, builder, boat builder,

stonemason, chairmaker, miller, brickmaker

Convicts 5.5% including ticket of leave men

Responsible positions 5% publicans, constables, overseer

Professional people 4.5% ‘gentlemen’, teachers, lawyers, chaplain, retired officer

Other occupations mentioned are tailor, wheelwright, shopkeeper, shepherd, lime burner,

fisherman, quarryman and one person on welfare, a military pensioner. Details are available for

some of these enterprises. As townships grew, particularly Kangaroo Point, people opened shops

(three by 1858).19 In 1831 Knopwood, by now living at Rokeby, had to take his horse to Hobart to

be shod, but two years later this could be done locally. Some people provided transport, such as a

Robert Cooling’s coach service from Kangaroo Point to Richmond, advertised in 1832 as ‘cheap

and safe’.20

There were also some larger business enterprises. In 1849 Richard Lewis discovered a vein

of silver on his land near Kangaroo Point, but did not mine it. However, that year the Ore Smelting

Company of South Australia, with boards in Adelaide and Hobart, set up smelters at Rosny to

produce copper from South Australian ore, using Tasmanian coal. The smelters operated for only a

few years. Longer-lasting were quarries established in the 1850s near Kangaroo Point. One

produced white sandstone, and in 1854 it was claimed that this highly-regarded stone was

18 Ross 1829 p 77; Betts p 55; HTC 21.4.32; THRA 21/55; Calder pp 9-14; Stoney p 37 19 AOT, Registers of deaths, St Matthew’s Parish, 1826-1860; HTG 9. 9.56

‘constantly’ being sent to Port Phillip, and the quarries were contracted to supply stone to the

Victorian Government for public buildings in Melbourne. Six years later the quarries were

described as ‘very valuable and extensive’. Another quarry was established in Kangaroo Point

itself, and produced green stone used to build St Mark’s chapel and St Mary’s Hospital in Hobart,

but the stone decayed badly.21

As Kangaroo Point became a centre of river activities, boat-building developed. Thomas

Florence built ships at his property at Rosny Point in 1822 and 1823, but the best known boat-builder

was John Petchey, an ex-convict who was given a land grant at Cambridge. An enterprising man, he

sold firewood in Hobart, and extracted tannin from wattle bark and tried to export it to England. Though

this was not successful, he was granted more land, set up businesses in Hobart, and took up the licence

of the Highlander hotel at Kangaroo Point, where he also ran a ferry. He started shipyards there and

produced fine vessels, notably in 1838 the barque Sir George Arthur, the largest ship built in Australia

to that date.22

Whaling continued and was profitable for some, but it barely touched the lives of Clarence

people even when the trade was opened to local people in 1824. Frederick Henry Bay was an

important centre, sometimes so full of boats that when one struck a whale the others crowded in for

their share, but few if any Clarence residents were involved. More exciting to locals were the

occasions on which Clarence boats caught whales in the Derwent. In 1830 a boat struck a whale off

Kangaroo Bluff, but while it was being secured a crew member had his leg severed at the ankle by a

rope. A baby whale taken from the adult whale was exhibited to raise funds for him. Twenty years

later, a Kangaroo Point ferry boat made fast to another whale. The ferry swamped, leaving the crew

swimming and the whale towing the boat. The crew were picked up and rejoined the fray in another

boat, and the whale was finally killed. This made thrilling watching for the locals who lined the

shore.23

There were a few, but not many, government positions. Schools are described elsewhere. A

postal service began as soon as the town of Richmond was established, and in 1834 William Jemott

was the postmaster at Kangaroo Point. The post went from Hobart to Richmond twice a week via

20 Nicholls pp 577, 610, 611, 615, 619, 622, 625, 638; Melville 1833; HTC 21.4.32 21 Tinning pp 11, 14-15; CT 16.2.49; Mercury 22.6.60; Hull 1860; AOT NS 1280/5, NS 544/2/54; Stoney p 77; Sharples et al pp 89-95 22 ADB vol 1, pp 391-2; Read pp 40-42; H O’May p 32

Jemott’s post office, and Jemott earned £20 a year for his part-time job.24 By the 1850s there were

more postal services, for the mail was delivered to districts – Clarence Plains, Cambridge, Muddy

Plains and South Arm – where part-time postmasters delivered it, or at least told people it was there.

These postmasters were usually farmers but included a publican.25 Another part-time government

job was registrar of births, deaths and marriages, with people appointed in Kangaroo Point from the

late 1840s. The first was the postmaster and constable; the second the local teacher.26

Few jobs for women were mentioned, only servant or housekeeper and one laundress; it was

taken for granted that most women would marry and most did so, so that the only women needing

employment were poor widows. The main job done by women was farming, and six women ran

farms, and a few others, often widows, owned farms and rented them out. After her husband died,

Sarah Holmes kept the farm and brought up their children. Bustling and energetic, she ran the farm

competently, and when manpower was scarce because so many men were away at the gold diggings,

she carried her own hay to market and sold it, gathered stones from a paddock to build a wall to

divide it from the road, and scandalised neighbours by attending public meetings that concerned her

interests. Another woman, Mary Ann Larsom, ran two farms and some land, and rented out a farm

and a house.27

Though not many women appear in official lists of the time, they played a vital role in

society. Most farmers’ wives worked just as hard as their husbands, running the house, bringing up

the children, preserving food, making clothes, managing the dairy and the hens, and often doing

agricultural work – it is noticeable that of the early settlers who prospered, all were married. Many

jobs were seen not just as the husband’s but for the whole family, so that wives and children worked

hard in enterprises like farms, inns, shops and schools. Stories of life in Clarence show that women

were active, and they are seen alerting police to robbers, reforming men, closing a road to the

annoyance of their neighbours, attending meetings, helping neighbours, and generally speaking their

minds. The 1857 census showed that in Clarence women formed 40% of the population, nearly half,

so the ratio was much more even than in the early days of settlement.

23 Betts p 76; CT 19.5.26; Colonial Advocate 1.7.28; HRA 3,5,p 700; Ross 1835; Widowson p 42; H O’May pp 44, 59 24 Ross 1834 p 96, 1835 p 24, 1836 p 24, 1837 p 25, 1838 p 25 25 Woods 1847 p 66, 1848 p 122, 1849 p 77, 1850 p 70, 1851 p 53, 1854 p 80; Hobart Town Directory 1857 p 138; Hull 1858 p 35, 1859 p 30, 1860 p 72 26 Woods 1849 p 78; Hobart Town Directory 1852-3 p 28; Hull 1860 p 72 27 Hookey The Chaplain p 172

As shown in the list above, there were some convict servants in Clarence. Settlers had

convicts assigned to work for them, women in the house and men in outdoor work. They did not

have to pay wages, but provided accommodation, food and clothing, and though there were many

complaints about the convicts, settlers queued up to gain this cheap labour. The complaints are not

surprising: the convicts had rarely been trained in the work they had to do and had no choice in the

matter, and some were naturally unwilling workers – in 1851, for example, one refused to work for

Mr Pitfield in his quarry at Kangaroo Point.28

Knopwood had convict servants, and when all was going well he was a kindly master. In

1812 he obtained pardons for his four servants, and one, Frederick Shaffers, was still with him in

1831, probably as a paid servant. Knopwood noted his birthdays, and in 1831 wrote that Shaffers was

65, Knopwood himself 68, his other man, Thomas Read, was 74, and the pony (‘which I still ride,

and admired by everyone’) was 28, a total of 215 years in a very masculine and elderly household.29

Some servants caused Knopwood trouble. Read was often drunk, and once when Knopwood

sent him to Hobart with letters, he was brought back drunk by a constable. One July ‘for a wonder’

he returned from Hobart sober, ‘the first time I believe for 12 months’, but soon came home drunk

again. Even worse, when Knopwood asked him to take the pony to the stable, he did not do it, and

the pony got tangled with the tether rope and was strangled. By this time Read was eighty – with no

welfare available, people with no savings or family to care for them had to keep on working. Masters

could take their convict servants to magistrates for punishment, and Knopwood took his seven times

in eight years, for neglect of duty, for being drunk and insolent on New Year’s Eve after taking thirty

bottles of wine from the cellar, for insolence, contempt and neglect of duty, and for being out all

night without leave.30

Generally speaking convict servants had a tough time. The Quaker missionaries praised

Mather and Gellibrand for their humane treatment but implied that other people fell short of this, and

Edward Kimberley said he cared well for his servants, giving them the same to eat as his family, as

well as indulgences like tea and sugar, and allowing them to sleep in his barn, but this was not a

general practice.31 In a hard environment people might well have thought convicts should not be

mollycoddled. This was particularly true of men in gangs making roads. In the 1830s there was a

28 MacFie ‘From prize-fights...’ p 144 29 Nicholls pp 582, 599 30 Nicholls pp 578, 581, 592, 601, 609, 605, 611, 610, 624, 634, 650, 665, 674 31 Backhouse p 42; HRA 3, 3, p 362

small gang of about eleven working at Kangaroo Point and a much larger gang of over a hundred

making the road over Grass Tree Hill (strictly speaking not in Clarence, but having an effect there).

Some did this work in irons. They lived in barracks at the top of Grass Tree Hill, where there were

also a chapel, cells and gardens, and even a township marked out. There were complaints that they

stole sheep and clothing, absconded and went kangaroo shooting, but the convicts said they did this

in order to survive, since their clothing, accommodation and food were so inadequate and discipline

so harsh. They tended to be unruly and make slow progress on the road, only ten miles in six years,

which considering their poor treatment is not surprising.32

Some convicts received better treatment, from kindly masters like surveyor James Calder. In

1848 he took a party of eleven convicts to Betsey Island, where they found four sailors, ‘mere

youths’, from an American whaling ship, hiding and waiting until their ship left harbour. They had

no provisions, and had been eating shellfish. Calder’s convicts were sympathetic and he let them help

the youths, knowing that if he did not the convicts would give them his provisions anyway. There

were still some of King’s rabbits running about, he noted, though they were black not silver-haired;

subsequently, Lady Franklin bought the island and tried to farm it, with no success, then gave it to

the people of Tasmania, but in 1848 it was unused. Lack of water was a perennial problem, and the

small amount there was brackish, so Calder’s tea tasted ‘horribly salt’.33

Another reminder of the convict system came when a naked man turned up on the Morrisby

property of Waterloo, and asked for clothes, with the promise that he would leave immediately. The

Morrisbys gave him warm clothing and he left. They assumed that he had escaped, probably from

the coal mines at Saltwater River or the convict station on Slopen Island, and swum the five miles

across Frederick Henry Bay.34

In 1820 there were hardly any establishments apart from small farms in Clarence: two hotels,

a small school and little more. By 1860 the picture had been transformed, as the population grew and

as living standards generally rose.

Apart from a few services at Risdon in 1804, there were no church services in Clarence until

the early 1820s, when the Anglican clergyman in Hobart, Robert Knopwood, started to take services

in three country areas including Clarence Plains. Several times he noted that services were ‘well

32 Ross 1834 p 96; MacFie ‘Dobbers and Cobbers...’ pp 113-5, 118, 122 33 Ross 1829 p 77; Betts p 55; HTC 21.4.32; THRA 21/55; Calder pp 9-14; Stoney p 37

attended’ or ‘very full’.35 In 1826 Clarence Plains was made a separate parish under Knopwood,

who continued to live in Hobart.36 Governor Macquarie in Sydney described him as ‘a man of very

loose morals’, but this was not unusual in the colony, and most of his parishioners liked him.

‘Knopwood wasn’t much of a parson, but a thorough good fellow’, said one of his parishioners. ‘He

was fond of talking about horses, and racing, and so on. He was very well liked.’ A little man with

grey hair, he used to ride about his large parish on a buff-coloured pony. Once, it was said, he left

the pony behind at Kangaroo Point, and it swam across to Hobart.37

Knopwood aimed to take services every Sunday in the Clarence Plains schoolhouse and

William Robley’s barn at Kangaroo Point, though sometimes he was prevented, because it was too

wet or windy to cross the river, or too cold or too hot, or because he was ill. At Clarence Plains the

congregation was often large, once over 100. Knopwood also performed burials, baptisms and

weddings, visited the sick (where he was well-known for not just offering prayers, but comforting the

family with a bottle of wine), and took some services in outlying areas, at Robert Mather’s house at

Muddy Plains, and Thomas Gregson’s house at Risdon. Occasionally he visited the schools at

Clarence Plains and Kangaroo Point, and examined the children or read prayers. The first wedding in

Clarence Plains, between Thomas Free and Mary Ann Waterton in 1827, was said to have been held

under an apple tree at Mrs Speed’s school. Funerals took place in Hobart, such as that of George

Morrisby, who was killed when his cart was upset while he was drunk. The service was attended by

‘a very large number all in deep mourning’. The next Sunday Knopwood’s sermon at Clarence Plains

was on the text, ‘For the Living know that they shall die’; ‘the whole family of the deceased brother

and friend were at church and scarce a dry eye in the church when I mentiond the dreadful accident

and the uncertainty of human life’.38

In 1830 Knopwood moved to Clarence, and looked for a cottage to rent. He was appalled

when a Mr Ball asked the huge sum of £1 per week for two rooms; still, he ended up renting a

‘miserable cottage’ from Ball. Knopwood took services in more areas, William Rumney’s house at

34 Adnum p 246 35 Nicholls pp 348, 354, 356, 360-9, 371-3. In 1822 Knopwood took services on 6.1, 10.2, 24.3, 5.5, 12.5, 26.5, 9.6, 23.6, 21.7, 4.8, 15.9, 27.10, 8.12, 22.12 and probably 13.10 and 24.11. He was prevented on 2.2, 7.7, 18.8, 1.9, 29.9. His diary is missing for 1821 but he could have taken some services at Clarence Plains in that year. 36 Nicholls pp xii, 475 37 HRA 3, 2, p 24; PB Walker p 139

Cambridge, and sometimes for gangs making new roads at Grass Tree Hill and Kangaroo Point, with

services in barns or the open air. Once he gave the gang a sermon on the topic ‘Duty and Submission

to Government’. In 1838 the Bishop of Australia arrived and held a confirmation; this meant hard

work for Knopwood, who spent two days visiting children’s parents to discuss confirmation, then

eight days preparing children to be confirmed before taking them to the church in Hobart for the

service.39

As before, there were reasons why Knopwood sometimes did not take services. Too much

wind or rain made travelling difficult and roads impassable, and once when Knopwood did struggle

through the rain to Kangaroo Point, no one else arrived. Services were not held because he was ill, or

because the schoolmaster’s wife at Clarence Plains was having a baby – the residence adjoined the

schoolhouse where services were held. Once, after a bad fall, Knopwood could not put on his coat

and was afraid of the cold if he rode to take a service. No church was built at Clarence until after

Knopwood’s death, but two meetings were held about building one; it seems that not enough money

was subscribed. It is difficult to know how enthusiastic his parishioners were; sometimes there were

large congregations – over 50 at Cambridge, 130 at Clarence Plains – but a government record notes

that he could not manage to assemble a Sunday School, as the parents were not interested.40

Church services were not just religious but also social occasions, and with his kindly, sociable

nature, Knopwood was clearly popular among his parishioners. His friends ranged from a wealthy

squire like Thomas Gregson to ex-convict farmers, and among the many he invited to dinner was ‘old

Farmer Williams’ on his eightieth birthday.41 At a time when many clergymen were careful to

preserve social differences, this was a tolerant attitude.

Knopwood died in 1838, aged 75, and a succession of clergymen served in Clarence. In 1843

the first church was opened, St Matthew’s at Clarence Plains. Designed by the well-known former

convict architect James Blackburn, it was built, with considerable help from parishioners, from

sandstone with a shingle roof. It held the organ and pulpit from the first St David’s church in Hobart,

and a chancel chair carved from wood from HMS Anson of Nelson’s fleet, donated by the Chipman

family. Services at Kangaroo Point were held in a small residence on Cambridge Road, until in 1852

38 Nicholls pp 471-557 passim each Sunday, especially pp 476, 480, 482, 484, 486, 488, 490, 491, 507, 508, 510, 518, 519, 523, 530, 536, 538, 549, 553, 555, and see NS 372/12, marriage register 39 Nicholls pp 348-681 passim, especially pp 551, 555, 557, 602, 610, 612, 618, 623, 625, 679-80 40 Nicholls pp 562, 576, 579, 598, 601, 618, 626, 627, 645, 660, 673; GO 33/51/921 41 Nicholls p 622

a church was built, the ‘neat little chapel’ of St Mark’s, also called the Chapel of Ease. Also

designed by Blackburn, it seated 150 and was part of the Clarence parish.42

The Anglican church was the most active in Clarence, but some other churches were present.

The first Methodist preacher arrived in Hobart in 1820, and in 1823 the Methodists established a

Sunday School at Kangaroo Point, to which eleven children went later that year. The church decided

that services would be held at Kangaroo Point and Clarence Plains eight times a year, but it does not

seem as if these ventures were successful, partly due to a lack of co-operation from Knopwood. In

1831 he refused to allow a Methodist missionary to hold services in the schoolhouse which was used

as a church – perhaps he knew that the missionary had described him as ‘a swearing, drunken,

debauched infidel’. A few years later the missionary did hold occasional services there.43

In 1830 the first Congregational service was held in Hobart, and the church soon spread

through the work of energetic itinerant missionaries. In the 1830s a church member moved to

Cambridge, and the missionary held services there every fortnight. He also ran a Sunday School, and

in 1835 the average attendance was twenty children. The congregation grew, and a chapel was

opened in 1843. One night bushrangers spent the night there, while waiting to raid a house at Sorell,

but the police found and arrested them. Church activity lessened somewhat until in 1854 another

missionary, based in Hobart, revived the church and re-established the Sunday School. He also held

occasional services at Clarence Plains and Muddy Plains, and for the convict road workers at

Kangaroo Point. He tried to form a congregation at Kangaroo Point but did not succeed; however, in

1841 a church member, Mr Lane, moved there and made his home available to the church. Another

missionary came from Hobart to run services, and for years a Hobart layman rowed across to run the

Sunday School. Later, services were held in the state school and the ‘Waterman’s Arms’ inn.44 There

were no Catholic or Presbyterian services in Clarence, so members of these churches had to attend

services in Hobart.45

In 1832 Clarence was visited by two Quaker missionaries, James Backhouse and George

Walker. They stayed for a few nights in Clarence Plains, where they were distressed because the

teacher’s convict servant became ‘grievously intoxicated’ and boisterous. Backhouse persuaded him

42 HTC June 1852; Stephens pp 66, 32. Stephens, Arnold claim the chapel of ease was built as early as the 1820s, but there is no evidence, and Knopwood never mentioned any chapel 43 Methodist Church p 33; Pretyman pp 46-62; Nicholls p 597; Hookey The Chaplain p 115 44 AOT GO 33/51/921; Sharples p 13-14, 32; Weeding pp 1-2 45 Southerwood p 116; Heyer passim

to go to bed, and he was asleep when the missionaries read improving books to the other servants that

evening. The missionaries then visited Robert Mather, who farmed at Muddy Plains, and although a

Methodist often allowed Knopwood to hold Anglican services in his house. They were glad that the

tide was out so they could walk across the sand to Mather’s house, saving quite a distance. Less glad

was Mather’s daughter Sarah, who had kept house for her father since her mother died. She ‘didn’t

want to be bothered with strangers’, and when she saw them coming she said to her younger brother,

‘Shut the door, Sam. Here come the Quakers’. Backhouse overheard her and reproved her, and

when at dinner she asked for pepper or mustard, Walker said he didn’t think she wanted either.46

(Eight years later he married Sarah.)

The missionaries visited Hugh Germain, a neighbouring settler, who, Backhouse reported,

had been addicted to spirits and ‘like many others in this country’ would bring rum home in a bucket

and drink it neat. But he married Mather’s housekeeper Mary Ely, ‘a managing woman’ who

reformed him. Backhouse found them a sober, industrious couple, a well-worn Bible prominent on

their table. The Germains’ brick house was ‘remarkably’ clean, their two children were very tidy, and

their garden thriving and clear of weeds. From the way Backhouse wrote this, it sounds unusual.

Mary Germain proposed starting a little school, which was excellent, said Backhouse, as drunkenness

and ignorance prevailed lamentably. 47

Robert Mather was in the habit of holding prayers daily and a church service on Sundays for

his family, convict servants and anyone else, which usually meant only the Germains. This Sunday

there were 25 people, and Backhouse – who ‘could do nothing better than talk’, said Sarah Mather

crossly – preached a sermon against drunkenness and swearing. That evening he held a ‘religious

opportunity’ in the kitchen; a man who kept a sly grog shop (where he made and sold illicit

moonshine) and others were moved to tears ‘when life and death were set before them’.48

The missionaries crossed the bay to the northern section of South Arm, where William

Gellibrand had set up a farm. Though the grass there was thin, the property was well-managed and

‘looks like an English farm’ (a great compliment). Gellibrand read the scriptures to his family every

day, and assembled his convict servants on Sundays for readings and a sermon. He cared unusually

well for his servants, providing them with a comfortable hut, and clothes which did not mark them as

prisoners, with a better suit for Sunday – well calculated to reform them, thought Backhouse.

46 Backhouse p 41; PB Walker pp 145-6; Mather p 61 47 Backhouse pp 41-2; Walker p 146

(Gellibrand also built his own tombstone in readiness, in a fine spot under some she-oaks, and spent

many sunny afternoons sitting on it, reading.) Backhouse clearly thought the Mathers, Gellibrands

and Germains were unusual; being a Quaker he could not speak too badly of anyone, especially in

print, but he obviously found the rest of the population sadly lacking in sobriety, good behaviour and

religious observance. 49

In early Tasmania the authorities were keen to encourage churches to improve morality, and

they were also keen to establish schools, to counteract the supposed bad influence of convict parents.

Government schools provided basic education, mainly the three Rs, for working class children. In

Clarence schools there was either a male teacher or a married couple. The teacher’s wife was

important not so much for academic work but because she could teach girls the important subject of

needlework. Pupils were meant to pay fees; education was not free or compulsory.

Clarence Plains inhabitants were described as wanting to send their children to school. A

wooden schoolroom was built, and a succession of men served as schoolmaster, three in a year at one

stage. In 1821 the teachers were Mr and Mrs Speed, who earned the small salary of £35 per year,

which Mrs Speed added to by running a private boarding school. There was trouble in 1823 when

some settlers withdrew their children, telling an inspector that this was because the children were not

learning anything. The inspector found the children’s progress unsatisfactory, and in 1825 Mr and

Mrs Richard Holmes took over. They lasted ten years, and in 1831 the school was described as

‘respectable’, but at times there were only nine children there, and four of these were from the

Holmes family. That year Holmes ‘grosely insulted’ Knopwood, who complained, and the Holmes

left. Their successors, Mrs McArdell and her son John, were far more successful, and the number of

children increased to 58. Over the years their salary increased to £125, which was just as well, as

inspectors noted that the children’s parents were poor and if any fees were paid they were mostly in

kind.50

The second school in Clarence was set up at Kangaroo Point by 1824. It seemed to last only

about five years, then vanished from the records, probably because not enough children attended to

make it viable for the teacher. By 1847 the school was re-established under Mr and Mrs Lane, who

48 Backhouse p 42; Walker p 146; Backhouse and Tyler p 83 49 Backhouse p 42; Adnum p 266 50 HRA 3, 2, p 362; 3, 3, pp 169, 367; 3, 4, pp 40, 92, 463, 640; 3, 5, p 167; Bent 1825; Melville 1831; Nicholls pp 614, 617, 619, 620, 655, 668; Backhouse p 42; Ross 1835-38; Woods 1847-49

were paid £145 per year, and two years later 38 children attended. As with Clarence Plains, parents

paid little by way of fees as they were ‘very poor’.51

In the late 1840s and early 1850s the school system changed several times, and when the

situation stabilised there were two schools in Clarence, at Kangaroo Point and South Arm. In the mid

1850s they had about 70 pupils between them, though numbers fluctuated: at Kangaroo Point there

were 36 scholars on the roll, but the average attendance was 22, as children were often kept at home

to help with the work on the farm or in the house, or to care for younger siblings. It was usual for

children to spend only a few years at school, just until they could read and write. By 1860 there were

three schools, for the school at Clarence Plains was functioning again, an inspector reporting that the

children were more advanced than was usual in rural schools.52 At the South Arm school,

established in 1856, an inspector wrote that the 34 pupils were ‘getting on well’. They were learning

reading and writing, geography, grammar, sewing (for girls) and Latin (boys). ‘The locality is very

poor; but the people take a laudable interest in the school and their children attend with regularity

and are neat and clean’, added the inspector.53

Though government schools came and went, they were more stable than most private schools.

Anyone could open a private school, as there were no regulations, and it was a useful way for

someone with a little education to try to earn a living. Some private schools were similar to

government establishments, offering little beyond literacy and charging about the same fees, and

others aimed higher, charging more and teaching Latin and Greek or the accomplishments which

were necessary for a gentleman or lady. Mrs Eliza Speed was running Rose Vale Boarding School at

Bay View in Clarence Plains in 1822, when Knopwood’s ward Betsey Mack went there. She was

fourteen, and the school took in girls as young as three. Later that year the governor’s lady went over

the school, and was delighted at Mrs Speed’s manner and ‘the neatness of the beds and rooms’. The

effect of Mrs Speed’s lessons in ladylike behaviour is debatable: Corbetta Lord attended the school

when she was seven, and since she was the smallest, the other girls gave her the task of squeezing

through a very small window on to a sloping roof, then into a tree, to raid fruit trees in the garden. In

51 Bent 1824-1829. Robert Giblin wrote in 1827 that he was setting up a school, but this seemed to be a Sunday school (CSO 19/2/385, 30.4.27); Woods 1847-1849; GO 33/51/921 52 Statistics of Tasmania 1858; Phillips p 31 53 Robb p 105

1823 the school closed, shortly after Knopwood removed Betsey because of ill-treatment. Later that

year Mrs Speed gave birth to a baby, so perhaps she gave up the school voluntarily.54

Throughout the colony private schools rarely seemed to last longer than a few years, and

Clarence saw, among others, RW Giblin’s academy at Kangaroo Point in 1827, Mr Hobson’s school

at Clarence Plains from 1829 to 1832, Mrs Sams’ seminary for young ladies in 1831, Mrs Rocher’s

seminary of 1834, a school run by the clergyman at Rokeby in the early 1840s, Mrs Wilcock’s school

in Rokeby House in 1851. By far the longest-running and best-known school was John McArdell’s

boys’ boarding school at Rokeby.

John McArdell arrived in Tasmania with his mother and brother in 1833, aged sixteen, and

with his mother taught at the government school at Clarence Plains. Then he took over Bay View

and started his own school, which was attended by most of the local boys from reasonably well-to-do

families. The school was never large – no other teacher is mentioned – but McArdell was highly

esteemed, described as ‘redoubtable’ and ‘stern’, and troublesome boys were sent to him from as far

away as the mainland. In 1854 the school’s annual examination was described. In front of the local

clergyman and numerous parents and friends, a daunting audience, the boys were examined orally;

nearly all acquitted themselves ‘tolerably’ and many did very well. Prizes were then distributed.

Four years later McArdell later moved his school to his new house, Mornington at Kangaroo Point.

Overall he taught in Clarence for 53 years, until his death in 1886. In 1881 a group of old scholars

and locals presented him with an address and a purse of sovereigns in recognition of the sound

education they had received at a time when schooling in Tasmania was limited.55

A few children, such as Henry Morrisby’s son Robert, were sent to private schools in Hobart,

but generally education was fairly basic for Clarence children. Still, somehow or other most seemed

to be able at least to read: an 1822 list of 52 Clarence Plains children showed that 39 could read, and

half of the rest were aged seven or under. Only six teenagers were illiterate.56 However, it was not a

society with high demands, and people could function adequately with basic literacy or even less.

Churches and schools were seen as the main requirements of civilised society, but the

government provided other services: pounds and post offices, and a police force, set up to try and

stop the petty thieving which was rampant in a convict colony – Elizabeth Morrisby was so afraid of

54 Chipman, ‘The Chipman Family’; Nicholls pp 353, 371, 381; HTG 15.11.23 55 Bent 1829 p 138, 1830 p 68; Melville 1831 p 229, 1834 p 241; CT 22.2.32; HTC 31.12.51, 23.12.54, 12.7.58; Hookey p 97; Tinning p 7; Mercury 2.12.86; Address to JOO McArdell, 1881, TL 56 CSO 1/240/5809 p 160

theft at her farm at Muddy Plains that she left her valuables with friends in Hobart. In 1824 there

were thirty constables in southern Tasmania, with one at Kangaroo Point, and ten years later

Clarence was part of the Richmond police district, with constables at Muddy Plains (a farmer) and

Kangaroo Point. Here the constable was William Jemott, also postmaster, who rose to become chief

district constable.57 In 1835 the True Colonist printed a letter praising him: not many years before,

Kangaroo Point had been ‘the most perfect sink of iniquity in the whole Colony’, but Jemott’s

‘unwearied and zealous perseverance’ had changed this. There were far fewer offences, the Sabbath

was observed respectably, the people were comparatively sober, and there was strict surveillance of

ferry boats with no drunken persons allowed on board. A few years before you could not leave a pair

of bullocks all night at the Point without fear of their being stolen, but now you could leave property

on the jetties all night in perfect safety. It was a shame that Jemott was so poorly paid and had to eat,

drink and sleep in a ‘small miserable hovel’ which was also the reception place for felons and for

drunk and disorderly men and women. The newspaper editor added that he knew the situation would

not be improved, since there was no ‘jobbing’, meaning bribery, involved, but some years later a new

watch house was built. Another vehicle of law enforcement was the justice of the peace; in 1826

there was one in Clarence, William Gellibrand at South Arm, and the number gradually increased

until there were half a dozen, generally landowners and the local clergyman.58

By 1860 Clarence also had a voice in government. In the 1850s the Tasmanian parliament

was established, and Clarence men could vote for members in the Legislative Council and the House

of Assembly. Electorates for the Legislative Council were set up in 1851, and Clarence was part of

Cambridge, which was dominated by the more populous area of Richmond. Francis Burgess of

Richmond, Chief Police Magistrate, was elected in 1856; he was retrenched the next year, resigned

and was re-elected in 1858, then went bankrupt. In the House of Assembly Clarence, including

Brighton, formed an electorate, which in 1856 elected Edward Abbott, who was re-elected several

times.59 Since he was also Clarence’s first warden, his career is described in the next chapter.

57 Hookey The Chaplain p 106; Bent 1824 p 28; Ross 1834 p 96, 1835 p 26, 1836 p 28, 1837 p 27, 1838 p 27 58 True Colonist 18 September 1835; Bent 1826 p 34; Woods 1847 p 32, 1854 p 57; Hobart Town Directory 1857 p 98; Hull 1858 p 21; other almanacs, passim 59 Hobart Town Directory 1857, pp 98; Bennett and Bennett pp 1, 24

In 1820 the only way to cross the Derwent was by small boat, and ferrymen provided a

service for people and animals, either rowing or, when possible, sailing. There were problems with

these ferries. They could not sail in bad weather, and people could be held up for days. When you

could cross, it was a long way and there was often a heavy swell, which made the crossing always

‘tedious and disagreeable’ and sometimes dangerous. Occasionally passengers had to take an oar to

assist.60 Boatmen were sometimes careless or drunk. In 1825 the Hobart Town Gazette complained

about boats. They were mostly made of stringy bark, which was porous, with stone for ballast,

which was apt to shift in stormy weather. People did not visit friends at Kangaroo Point as often as

they wanted to because of the unsatisfactory ferry service. Boats should be built of fir or Huon

pine, which was more buoyant, and wooden ‘flatbreakers’ filled with water should be used for

ballast, as they would float. There was competition between the different ferrymen: in 1831 there

was a court case between two of them over whose fault it was when boats collided.61

Ferry accidents were frequent, as the following examples show. In 1822 a ferry was upset by a

sudden gust of wind, and two ferrymen and two passengers were submerged. One ferryman drowned,

and it was argued that the accident was his fault, as he had made a sheet-rope fast instead of keeping it

loose in his hand. Despite warnings, Peter Buchanan, a well-known local resident, left Kangaroo Point

with two horses in a boat with no ballast; it capsized, and the three occupants and a horse were drowned.

Then in 1849 Alfred Montagu, a lawyer who lived at Rosny, was crossing the river. Again the boat was

caught in ‘one of those gusts so frequent and so dangerous in the Derwent’, and he and the boatman

drowned, in sight of his wife and a neighbour who had arrived too late to board the boat. In 1855 fifteen

South Arm residents were returning home after Jane Brown’s funeral at Clarence Plains, but the wind

was so strong that halfway across the bay the boatman started to return. A puff of wind blew up and

caught the sail, the boat heeled over, the ballast shifted, the passengers panicked and rushed to the side,

and the boat filled and sank. A fisherman rowed out to help and rescued nine people, but six drowned:

Jane Brown’s mother Eliza, the South Arm teacher and his wife ‘who sank clasped in each others arms’,

two labourers and a fifteen-year-old girl.62 All these accidents happened in sailing boats.

Steam ships were less liable to such accidents, and as early as the 1820s there were moves to

introduce them. In 1828 several men formed the Derwent Steam Navigation Company, which

proposed a steam ferry. The secretary was Hobart businessman John Lord, who lived at Kangaroo

60 Betts p 60; Hudspeth and Scripps p 45; Widowson p 101; Wedge pp 30, 32 61 HTG 18.2.25; Colonial Advocate 1.7.28; HTC 19.3.31; H O’May p 21

Point. Due to disagreements no steam ferry eventuated, but in 1832, recent immigrant Dr Alexander

Thomson imported a steamer for the run. She completed six services each day, at the same cost as

existing ferries. Several other ferries were used on the run over the next twenty years, and some went

to Ralphs Bay as well. They were larger and faster than rowing boats, but sometimes even they could

not cross. After lunch in Hobart one day, Knopwood took the steam ferry to go home, but a strong

wind came up and it was driven seven miles down the Derwent, and only with great difficulty

returned that night to the jetty where it started. One Sunday Knopwood agreed to take a service at

New Town at 11 am, and arrived at Kangaroo Point at 8 am to catch a ferry. There was a severe gale

with heavy rain and no small boat would cross; and when the steamer finally came in, it was not

going to cross until later, reaching Hobart at 1. There was no hope of getting to New Town in time,

so Knopwood went home.63 This meant a wasted morning for him, and also for the churchgoers at

New Town, as there was no way of telling them the service was cancelled. But even if boats were

available, Knopwood had to allow three hours to get from Kangaroo Point to New Town.

There were other problems: steam boats ran badly when fired with inferior wood, like green

gum; sometimes passengers had to steer while the captain attended to the engine; and the boats were

unreliable as they often broke down, or were transferred by their owners to a more profitable route,

since there was not enough demand to make the Kangaroo Point ferry pay well – Thomson himself

sold his service after only a year.64 Watermen maintained their service with small boats, sometimes

all that was available.

A second ferry ran at Risdon. People had been rowing across the river since 1804, but once

the settlement closed there was no need for a ferry, since there was no real road on either side of the

river, and few inhabitants. But in 1832 Governor Arthur planned an alternative route from Hobart,

with a new road to Risdon, then to Richmond over Grass Tree Hill. The route was much shorter

than via Kangaroo Point, with a less dangerous river crossing. The ferry was established by 1842,

and ran 24 hours a day (meaning that if you wanted to cross at night you could wake the ferryman

62 HTG 20.4.22; quoted in H O’May p 12; HTC 10.1.49, 9.4.55; SC 195/37 no. 3511 63 HRA 3, 7, p 349; Colonial Advocate 1.7.28, Ross 1829, 1832; HTC 7.12.32; Nicholls p 595, 603, 604, 608, 633 64 Hudspeth and Scripps pp 45, 99; CT 22.2.32; ADB vol 2, p 522

and pay extra). A report praised the west side at least as being well arranged, with no time lost in

crossing and the men civil and attentive.65

From the 1820s there had been suggestions of a bridge across the river at Risdon, but

nothing happened, even after the government passed an Act to set up the bridge, in 1842. In 1846

further legislation set up a ferry worked by nine convicts. A painting that year shows a few houses

at ‘Risdon township’, with a large hotel and a police station and lockup – a holding prison for

convicts being taken to and from Hobart. For a time this was a major route, and Risdon was lively

with travellers. ‘Here “many a man with an evil eye” sauntered about the ferry’, wrote a later

newspaper imaginatively. At some stage the government left the ferry to private operators, but in

1852 inhabitants of Richmond complained that the boats were unsafe; if an accident happened,

which was not unlikely from the way they were laden, there was nothing to save passengers from a

watery grave. The next year a public meeting in Richmond, called to discuss roads, instead

discussed the ferry, with many complaints about its gross mismanagement. A deputation

interviewed the government, who resumed control of the ferry.66

There were also two smaller ferries at Pittwater, one crossing from the Bluff to Sorell, and a

lower ferry which went from the end of Seven Mile Beach to Forcett, and was operated by Ralph

Dodge. These were not so vital, as people could travel by road to Sorell.67 Intermittently there was

also a ferry service from Ralphs Bay.68

Like ferries, roads in Clarence had their ups and downs. When the first land grants were

given, surveying staff were in short supply and the main aim was to get people on their land as soon

as possible, so little attention was paid to roads. Main roads from Kangaroo Point to Richmond and

Clarence Plains were more or less made, but others were a problem. Everyone had to be able to

reach a main road, but this meant side roads going over other people’s land, which led to problems

of trespass and theft of stock. Sometimes people closed off such roads, and in 1830 fourteen

65 Rowntree pp 6-9; House of Assembly Hansard, Risdon Ferry Act (Repeal) Bill Second reading 1984 p 3320; HTC 13.10.37, 10.9.41, 1.4.42; CT 14.4.40, 13.8.44; HTA 13.12.42 66 Ross 1829, 1830; HRA 3,5,p 308; HTG 6.10.46; House of Assembly Hansard, Risdon Ferry Act (Repeal) Bill Second reading 1984 p 3320; Angus plate 13, ‘Risdon Ferry on the Derwent V.D.L.’; AOT Calder’s Field Book 1189; information from Jan Clear; Mercury 7.5.04; HTC 26.9.46, CT 16.3.52, 5.7.53, 21.7.53 67 Newitt p 39; HTC 11.6.31; H O’May p 13 68Old hands William Bignell (NS 544/2/54) and H O’May, p 13, recall innkeepers called Mawle running a ferry from Ralphs Bay, but the only indication of such an inn comes in 1831, and it was licensed W. Hance (HTC 11.6.31). Perhaps the licensed inn descended to a sly grog shop

residents complained to the government that William Rumney and Agnes Wilson had stopped a

road which had ‘long been opened in the neighbourhood’ so that travellers had to make a long

detour. Others complained that there were too many side roads, ‘numerous roads dissecting [my]

property in all directions’.69

In 1832 a committee of Clarence Plains inhabitants met to work out the best lines for roads,

to recommend to the government. They agreed that the ‘shortest and best’ line of road should be

followed, but disagreed as to what this actually was. People wanted access to roads, but did not

want roads crossing their land, and accused others of selfishly trying to benefit themselves: ‘I dont

see why my property should receive such an injury to benefit the Estate of others’. William Rumney

seemed opposed to many of his neighbours, and there were other factions as well. Eventually plans

were finalised for a road from Kangaroo Point to Ralphs Bay through eighteen properties to the

Neck, with four roads branching off to serve farms. A second road ran from Ralphs Bay towards

Richmond through eight properties, with a branch to Seven Mile Beach.70

When these plans were made public there were more complaints. Roads across properties

took up room – Richard Lewis said 7 of his 95 acres were taken up by three roads, when others had

no roads on their farms – and encouraged ‘trespass and injury’ against which settlers had no

remedy. But roads were vital, and sometimes when neighbours closed roads, people had no access

to their farms. This could result in ‘violent threats’. Joseph Chipman said Richard Holmes had

closed a road and he could not proceed to market without going over Mr Free’s land. He had lived

on his grant for 25 years during most of which the road had been used, but now Holmes had given

him notice of a civil action, subjected him ‘to every annoyance that malice can suggest’, and

choked the main road with stones and rubbish. A note by a government official said ‘this complaint

is frivolous’; but another note described Holmes as ‘an unhappily tempered Man and being on bad

terms with his neighbours’.71

Other neighbourhood feuds became evident. A group of settlers complained that Hugh

Germain had made a road impassable at Muddy Plains. Years ago he and William Roberts had

decided to provide half the land each for a road through their properties, but he had blocked his

69 AOT LSD 1/77/136, Francis Desailly, 21/12/1831 70 AOT LSD 1/77/110, minutes of meeting 8/8/1832; LSD 1/77/175, letter from P Roberts, 12/1/1833; LSD 1/77/107, group of inhabitants, 6/3/1830; HTC 7.12.1832

section off. Germain replied angrily that the disputed area was all on his land; he already had two

roads going through his small farm and did not want the hardship of a third.72

On the shore of Ralphs Bay, neighbours complained that Henry Mortimer closed a road, to

which he replied that he was at a loss to explain their audacity. The old road, ‘if road it can be

call’d’, remained as it was when he arrived, eleven years earlier. It was never used, as the bay it led

to was so shallow and loading boats so difficult that boats always came at different points, and

ladies had to be carried ashore through the water. He had made a road and wharf for himself at

great expense on his own ground. Problems arose, he said, because the bay had many names –

South Arm Bay, Cockle Shell Bay, Mortimer’s Bay, York Bay – could they please decide on one?

Gradually these complaints were sorted out, or ignored, the decisions of the road committee were

carried out, and the road system became more settled. The roads followed much the same routes as

the older roads of today, with a deviation leaving the road to Richmond before Cambridge and

running up Breakneck Hill.73

Even so-called main roads could be rough, and one girl described the road to Muddy Plains

as ‘just a bush track’. They were ‘made’ by felling and grubbing timber, filling in holes, bridging

creeks, and sometimes throwing earth from the sides to the middle, and digging a cutting at the

sides. After heavy rain Knopwood described roads as ‘dreadful beyond measure’ and ‘almost

impassable’, and once he was scarcely able to walk on a road due to the water on it. When a road

was just an unmade track which had grown up because people used it, it was even worse; once

when Knopwood took a road like this, to Mr Barnes’ property near present-day Clifton, he

described it as the worst he had ever travelled in Van Diemen’s Land, which was saying something.

Roads were sometimes damaged by rains and floods – in October 1828 several bridges were

washed away – and settlers were expected to help with repairs, lending their equipment to help

carry materials as the roads were repaired by convict gangs.74

71 AOT LSD 1/77/182, Richard Lewis, 26/8/1834, and see also LSD 1/77/133, Jacob Bellette, 8/10/1832; LSD 1/77/160, P Roberts 14/6/1832; LSD 1/77/187, Assistant Surveyor 15/6/1837; LSD 1/77/192, J Chipman and note on back, 15.8.1837 72 AOT LSD 1/77/147, group of settlers, 3/11/1835; 149, survey office to Germain, 2/9/1837; 150, Germain, 5/9/1837 73 AOT LSD 1/77/156, H W Mortimer, 24/9/1836; LSD 1/77/177, J. Chipman 22/1/1833; Jones ‘A Guide...’ p 156 74 PB Walker p 143; Newitt p 9; Jones ‘A Guide...’ p 156; Nicholls p 558, 601, 613, 635

Probably the best road in Clarence was the new road from Risdon to Richmond. The route

via Kangaroo Point involved the long river crossing, and the road itself was impassable after heavy

rain as it crossed such loamy soil. Arthur’s new road ascended Grass Tree Hill by as moderate a

gradient as possible, and once down the other side crossed the flats to join the old road. There was

criticism that Arthur made this road to gain better access to his own property at Richmond, and

work on it was very slow. In 1833 Knopwood said the road gang of 55 ‘appeard to be doing scarce

anything’, with the overseer gone to Richmond and little supervision. The gang grew to 139 men in

1838, and though they were often insubordinate, stealing sheep and defying orders, the road was

eventually finished. Louisa Anne Meredith travelled by it to the east coast: there was a beautiful

view from Risdon, she wrote, and the climb up the fine, newly-made road with interesting grass-

trees at either side led to another beautiful view at the top of the hill. But the new road never

became as popular as the southern route, probably because the hill was so steep, and in 1869 a

Richmond resident said that if the road to Kangaroo Point were repaired, no one would use the

Grass tree Hill road at all. Coaching services ran from Risdon and Kangaroo Point to Richmond.75

A novel form of transport existed at Ralphs Bay Neck, which was part of Robert Mather’s

farm. Many people wanted to cross the Neck to avoid the often rough seas and contrary winds of

Storm Bay and the entrance to the Derwent. Mather, a public-spirited man, assisted them by

dragging boats over the neck on a cart pulled by a bullock team. He also provided provisions and

accommodation. Mather performed this service free; after he sold his property, others charged a

fee, Richard Larsom advertising in 1836 that he had a strong team of oxen to draw boats across, and

a sledge to protect their keels. Family tradition has it that Mather built a wooden railway over the

Neck, but it does not sound as if Larsom used one.

By the late 1830s many people needed to travel between Hobart and the new settlement at

Port Arthur. It was too much for the voluntary service, so the government built a railway line

across the Neck. The 2-km wooden line was built by eighteen convicts, who lived on site in a ‘sod

and bark’ hut with rations of flour, salt pork, tea, sugar and potatoes, and also, from settlers’

complaints, stolen sheep. The line was finished in 1840, and eight years later surveyor James

Calder described an unusual crossing. It was extremely windy, so his party put up the sail on their

75 Newitt pp 111-114; Nicholls p 618; MacFie ‘Dobbers and Cobbers...’ pp 112-123; Meredith pp 49-50; Britannia 12/11/45; Mercury 12.7.69; NS 544/2/54, a newspaper description of Bellerive in about 1905, in which William Bignell, the oldest inhabitant, is quoted as saying this

boat, which actually sailed over the isthmus, with no other force necessary at all.76 The railway fell

into disuse as steam vessels appeared, which could cope better with wind and rough seas, and went

by water for the whole trip.

These rough seas caused a number of ships to founder, and from earliest times lighthouses

had been suggested. The rocky islet of Iron Pot at the mouth of the Derwent was an obvious site; it

was called this, people said, because of an old iron pot left there which might have been a whaler’s

pot, or because whalers might have left pots there, or because some holes in the rocks looked like

trypots. A light was suggested in 1825, and its need became more obvious with the wreck of the

Hope in 1832 (see box). That year the government did build a lighthouse on Iron Pot, at first using a

lantern on a ship, while a stone tower was built. The light in the tower was seventy feet high, and it

could be seen from ships up to twelve miles away. Two convicts were in charge, and new lanterns

were installed periodically. Today the lighthouse is the oldest in Australia still in its original

building.77

Convicts also ran the semaphore system, used between Port Arthur and Hobart in the 1840s

and for a period in the 1860s. Signals were sent from one semaphore station to another, using signals

on masts, and stations were built on hills. One line went via Mt Augustus at Muddy Plains. In good

weather, a 20-word message could be sent and a reply received in fifteen minutes.78

As the population of Clarence grew so did the number of inns, from two in 1820 to nine in

1860. They fulfilled several functions. They were places where people could drink, be sociable and

sometimes play games, like skittles. They were community centres where coroners’ courts, meetings

and even church services were held. They provided services for travellers: accommodation,

refreshment, stabling for horses, and sometimes ferries with adjacent stockyards for farmers. Inns

ranged from small to large establishments, from rough to acceptable, and publicans were often

prominent in the community. Inns came and went, certainly the names and probably the buildings

too, and it is often difficult to know whether a new name is a new establishment, or an old one under

another name.79

76 Thwaites pp 210-20; Walker pp 64-67; Mather pp 62-64; True Colonist 29.4.36 77 H O’May pp 19-20; Stanley pp 7-10; Bryan passim 78 Hudspeth, Scripps, MacFie pp 80-83 79 Most information comes from annual licensing lists, in HTG and later TGG

Patrons ranged from manual labourers to the social elite, such as it was, for even the

clergyman, Knopwood, sometimes used an inn’s facilities. In 1826 after a rough ferry crossing,

‘completely wet through, having shipped some heavy Seas’ and even wetter because when they

landed in Kangaroo Point ‘Rain fell in Torrents’, he and the Commissioners for Lands went to an inn

at Kangaroo Point to dry off and take refreshment. In 1833 he visited his acquaintances the

Morrisbys who were running the Plough Inn at Kangaroo Point, and three years later he and three

other gentlemen dined at a new inn there, Peregrine Clarke’s Wheat Sheaf.80

The main centre for inns was Kangaroo Point, because of the many travellers crossing the

Derwent, to Clarence Plains or further afield to Richmond and Sorell. Waterfront inns often ran

ferries to Hobart, and were large affairs with stables, stockyards and plentiful accommodation. James

Ballance’s Freemason’s Arms ceased in the early 1820s, but the Golden Fleece on Victoria

Esplanade opened in about 1823. It contained two large sitting rooms, a bar, a taproom, four

bedrooms, a granary, an excellent garden, and by 1860 stabling for twenty horses. Alexander

Buchanan ran it for several years, leased it to a succession of licensees, then sold it in 1842. It was

still operating in 1860, one of the most successful of Clarence hotels. Also successful was the Plough

Inn, which opened in 1828 and operated until 1860 and beyond, largely under the McCormack and

Dawson families. It was a rambling wooden building near the corner of Cambridge Road and

Clarence Street, and was later demolished. The Union, a beautiful sandstone building on Cambridge

Road, was owned and probably built by Uriah Allender on the site of the ferry he started in 1816. In

1834 it became the Highlander, then in 1852 the Devonshire Family Hotel, this name change

showing a desire to encourage a clientele which was more respectable (‘family’) and upmarket (the

new genteel name ‘hotel’). (This hotel was demolished to make way for a new library.)

Respectability also appears in advertisements for Todd’s Hotel, which offered furnished apartments

for gentlemen and ladies who wanted to ‘avail themselves of a situation so delightful & salubrious as

this favoured spot is known to be during the HEATS OF SUMMER’.81

There were also hotels which came and went: the Crown in the 1820s, Clarence House from

1828 – at one stage run by a woman, Sophia Graves – the Wheatsheaf and the New Wheatsheaf at

Sunnyside, and in the 1850s the Waterman’s Arms. Some of these might have been the same hotel

under different names, and the Watermen’s Arms had been used as a girls’ school and Church of

80 Nicholls pp 489, 491, 602, 607, 612, 647; McKay p 30

England Sunday School before it was licensed. Usually, four hotels operated at Kangaroo Bay, but at

times there were as many as five and as few as two.82

Clarence Plains, a smaller population centre, supported only one hotel, whose name and

possibly building changed often. Chequers, the original, faded from 1822, and afterwards came the

Clarence Arms (1828-31), the Horse and Groom, later Horse and Jockey (1833), the Currier and His

Beam (1833-40) which was mostly run by the Morrisby family, the Harrow (1841-49) under James

Shuttle, then William Martin’s Horse and Jockey from 1850. When the Clarence Arms was

advertised to let, it was described as an eligible public house with sixty acres of land, at the head of

Ralphs Bay, with an excellent wharf on which a considerable sum of money had been spent, and a

ferry service. There was another small inn, the Brown Cow, just outside the township. As it never

appeared in the licensing lists, it was probably an unlicensed grog-shop.83

Main roads were good sites for inns, and in 1826 George Stokell, a Hobart merchant, built

and leased a hotel near the top of Tunnel Hill, on the road to Richmond. It was known as the Three

Trunks or the Crown and was run by the Bignell family in the early 1830s, but it faded after the

Horseshoe opened in 1834, nearer to the small population centre of Cambridge. The Horseshoe was

established by Peter Byrne, and in the 1850s was run by Eli Allen, and contained a sitting room, two

bedrooms, stabling for four horses and a skittle alley. In 1856 there was an application for another

licence in the area, but a letter signed by fifteen local people objected, saying that there was barely

enough business for one hotel, and they did not want another. The application was refused.84

There had been intermittent inns at Risdon, with the Wheatsheaf, by the road at Risdon Creek

(near the present jail, and possibly also called the Saracen’s Head) running off and on between 1829

and 1839. It was said to be a haunt of bushrangers. Once the new road and ferry were built there were

more travellers, and so more inns. At the terminus of the Risdon ferry was a large inn known

variously as the Turk’s Head, Turnpike Gate, Restdown Inn, and Risdon Ferry Inn, which ran

between 1837 and 1865. It did a roaring trade, but faded when the Derwent Inn was built on the west

bank in 1858. Another inn was built on Grass Tree Hill, just outside Clarence.85

81 Bent 1827-32; HTG 21.1.25; Mercury 21.2.61, 21.6.61, 16.7.61; Independent 24.9.31; HTC 26.6.35; Melville 1833; True Colonist 23.9.34; Bell’s Life in Tasmania 13.12.59 82 Robertson Bellerive Heritage 3, p 57; see Bryce, almanacs, and licensing lists 83 HTC 26.3.31; information from Phyllis Calvert; Bryce pp 24, 31, 43, 74, 84 84 CT 19.5.26; HTG 13.1.27; HTC 29.3.28; THRA 16/156; Bryce p 142; Critic 7.10.1935 85 Mercury 22.9.60, 7.5.04; licensing lists 1829-1865; Jones Richmond... p 14

Most innkeepers seem to have been hard-working and respectable, like Peter Byrne and his

wife. She had come to Hobart as a lady’s maid, and married Peter, a farrier with the army. They

decided to stay in Tasmania and take a grant of land rather than return to England, and after a brief

period when Peter practised as a farrier they built the Horseshoe at Cambridge, and ran it for some

years until in 1844 they moved to Emu Bay. Mrs Byrne was always an invalid from indigestion and

could never find a remedy, but the couple had nine children.86

Inns were the main service offered to the public. Shops, now far more numerous than hotels,

were less plentiful at a time when people were as self-sufficient as possible and in any case did not

have much spare money. Even in 1858 there were only four shops in Clarence, three at Kangaroo

Point and one at Rokeby. The Rokeby shop had an unusual manager, called Wood. One day in 1838

a cart driver came in to ask permission to light his pipe. (Why he had to do this is not known.)

Wood replied, ‘You must make haste, for I am going to blow the house up’. The carter thought he

was joking, then realised he was serious. He begged Wood to wait until he, the carter, had left. Soon

afterwards another man came into the shop and found Wood boring a hole in a cask of gunpowder.

Wood told him that he intended to blow the house and himself up. He tried to throw hot ash from the

fire on the gunpowder, but it had no effect. The other man ran out for help, and he and a third man

rushed on Wood, who despite their efforts succeeded in throwing the cask on the fire. By a desperate

effort the two men forced Wood outside, and a few minutes afterwards a huge explosion demolished

the house. ‘We have not heard any reasons assigned for this strange act’, concluded the report.87

During this period the population of Clarence was changing, at a surprisingly fast rate for

what is generally considered a stable period. Only a few names mentioned in the list of inhabitants

of 1819 appear in 1858: Chipman, Morgan, Morrisby, Stanfield, Allender, Briscoe, Maum, Nicholls,

Pearsall, Richardson, though of course there could have been families descended through the female

line with different surnames. Some properties remained in the same families’ hands, but others

changed rapidly. The site of Saddler’s Cottage in Kangaroo Point was part of a location order to John

Wise in 1834, and changed hands ten times over the next two decades, during which the house was

built. Owners included the Clarence Plains schoolteacher, a local shipwright, Hobart whalers and a

86 TM 19.4.84, interview with Mrs Byrne 87 HTC 9.3.38

Hobart hairdresser, a local shopkeeper then a local publican.88 At the same time, Clarence’s

prosperity is shown in the valuation list of 1858, where of 266 establishments very few were

unoccupied, and they were mainly allotments in Kangaroo Point, waiting development.

Kangaroo Point, or Bellerive, was the main population centre. The coming of steam ferries in

1832 had assisted its growth – it was surveyed for subdivision in 1833 since there was a demand for

properties89 – and in 1858 it had a population of about 250 and contained many houses and most of

Clarence’s amenities, such as inns, shops, a church, a school, businesses such as the quarries and

shipbuilding, some government employees such as a district constable, postmaster and registrar, and of

course the ferries, which provided a number of jobs. Some people lived in Clarence and worked in

Hobart, though they were mainly the well-to-do who ran their own boats, like Judge Montagu.

Clarence Plains was still mainly a farming centre, with a township containing some houses, an

inn and a shop, a church and a school, a policeman and Clarence’s only doctor. Other centres – South

Arm, Muddy Plains, Hollow Tree (Cambridge) and Risdon – mainly contained farms, though

Cambridge and Risdon had inns and South Arm a school. South Arm grew considerably in the 1850s as

more people established farms there.

Most people in Clarence had to work hard, and lived fairly simply. Life was not a pastoral

idyll, however, as people did not always co-operate with each other. The saga of roads in the 1830s

shows that there were several neighbourhood feuds, and the surveyor Wedge wrote in his diary, with

idiosyncratic spelling, that in Clarence ‘the principal proprietors are Messrs. Williams, Lewis,

Romney, Straghan, Bedford, Stokle, Stanfield, Nichols and Jewel – I met with much civility from

them – but they are most of them quarrelling with each other... they are a rum set’. Williams

‘considers himself above the rest’ but had a bad temper; Lewis landed in the colony ‘without a

shilling’ but was now making money, and had a competent wife who gave Wedge a pot of excellent

butter; ‘Straghan’ was good tempered and well meaning but lacked management skill; but Stanfield

and Nichols, ‘from Convict Parents, are deserving much credit from the way they conduct themselves

, as well as for the pains they are taking to educate their children’.90

The arguments Wedge spoke about were often over boundaries, which in the early days had

sometimes been vague and left plenty of room for disagreement. For example, in 1824 the Land

Commissioners noted that Richard Lewis asked them to arbitrate a dispute he was having with John

88 Ledger p 4 89 HTC 22/3/33

Petchey over land. They did, but found it hard to trace the boundaries. Ten years later there was a

protracted court case over the ownership of land in Kangaroo Point, which three people claimed to

own either through grants or having bought it. The authorities found this extremely difficult to solve,

especially since two of the parties were ‘illiterate beyond description’.91 Then there were people who

just did not get on with others, like Richard Holmes the teacher who insulted the clergyman and was

described as ‘an unhappily tempered man’.

But most people lived amicably with their neighbours, and generally life seemed stable

despite the odd quarrel. Neighbours helped each other in times of trouble, and in 1826 the surveyor

John Helder Wedge recorded a warm welcome from one inhabitant, Mrs McAuley, ‘a fat round faced

widow about 38 years of age...A more hearty welcome, or a more plentifully fil’d table no one ever

met with – it was about 5 p:m. when I arrived and in about five minutes I saw before me a large cold

round of Beef & one of the largest Legs of Pork I ever beheld a bottle of wine & a Bottle of brandy –

What more could a man wish for?’92

Early inhabitants had been mainly convicts, but in the early 1820s glowing descriptions of

Tasmania were published in England, which encouraged free people to emigrate. Some came to

Clarence, such as Robert Mather at Lauderdale and George Stokell at Rokeby House, who both ran

businesses in Hobart and bought farms in Clarence. Richard Lewis was another Hobart businessman

who bought farms in Clarence, eventually owning nine properties there. Others lived on their farms,

such as William Gellibrand at South Arm, and William Rumney at Cambridge. Thomas Gregson,

later a politician, bought Restdown at Risdon and owned farms in the midlands, but he lived at

Risdon in considerable style. These men formed the upper social layer, with earlier settlers who had

prospered, like Daniel Stanfield and Joseph Chipman, who between them owned half of the six most

valuable properties in Clarence. There were also a few emigrants from British India, like Samuel

Dawson, the police magistrate. The Dawsons lived at Claremont House, and though they were not

wealthy they lived grandly, borrowing silver from their neighbours the Stokells when they gave a

dinner party. The Fielders called their property Howrah from their Indian memories; Mrs Fielder,

described as a charming woman, was said to be an Indian princess. Then there was Dr Francis

Desailly; it was said that he practised at the court of George IV, and his wife was a lady in waiting to

Queen Caroline. Why had they come to Clarence Plains? They farmed and Dr Desailly practised

90 Wedge pp 31-2, 11.11.26 91 McKay p 3; SC 285 report 69

medicine, but unlike most people they always had plenty of money from a mysterious pension. It

was said that they knew some deep royal secret, perhaps to do with royal marriages not being valid,

but if there was such a secret it died with them.93

Then there were respectable citizens who lived decent lives, working hard and living

comfortably, usually on medium-sized farms. Some were convict descendants, others free emigrants

from Britain. A number came to South Arm when land was available for rent. Edward Musk, a

convict ploughman, arrived in 1832 and was probably assigned to Gellibrand. In 1839 he married,

and at the birth of one of his eleven children, in 1848, he was described as ‘farm overseer of South

Arm’. He went to the gold rush, and perhaps struck lucky; at any rate he bought a farm from

Gellibrand in 1856 and settled down there with his family. Three sons of Robert Alomes, a marine

who arrived in 1804, settled at South Arm. They prospered, and their descendants still live in the

area. So do the Richardsons of Sandford, descendants of William Richardson, an ex-convict, whose

tombstone described him as a kind husband and father and a just and honest man. It also said he died

aged 102, though there is doubt about this.94

Another family to come to South Arm were the Calverts. In 1832 William Calvert, a

gunmaker, arrived in Hobart with his son Christopher and three daughters, and set up a business.

Five years later Christopher married Hannah Watson, whose family farmed at Muddy Plains, and

after spending some years in Victoria they leased a farm at Cambridge, where they grew vegetables.

Hannah Calvert was a hard worker, and her vegetables were known for their good quality. Their

eight-year-old son William used to drive dray-loads to the ferry at Kangaroo Point, to be sold in

Hobart. In 1851 the family leased land at South Arm, and bought it five years later. They too

prospered, partly through hard work and partly perhaps because their children were so helpful; they

had eight sons and three daughters.95

Then there were people who were not so well off, agricultural labourers and others less

respectable. They are chiefly known for their propensity for petty crime, which was widespread in

the convict colony – fighting, theft, drunkenness, gambling, using bad language, being drunk at

church (convicts had to attend), disobedience and assault. Thieves tried to break into Knopwood’s

house several times, and once Thomas Gregson’s house was robbed of silver plate while he was at

92 Wedge pp 29-30, 5.9.26 93 Collins pp 47-48; Hookey pp 177-182 94 Bezzant p 89-90; Hookey pp 175-6; Tipping p 305 95 Robb pp 97-105

church. Convicts were often found guilty of petty crimes. For example, in 1847 the Kangaroo Point

constable looked in on a public house and saw Samuel Wickens, in the service of Mr Pitfield, quarry

owner, playing cards. He rushed out the back way, and later offered the constable money ‘as you

will only get me on the roads’ (working on the roads in a chain gang). The charge of being in a

public house and playing cards was dismissed, but Wickens was sent to a chain gang for a month for

offering a bribe. Worse, the next year a constable was standing by a broken window and asked

Thomas Conner to open the door. Conner ‘made water in my face. He exposed his private parts

through the broken pane of glass’. Conner received three months.96

The Clarence police record book of 1846 shows that most crimes were committed by ticket-

of-leave men, who were fined for petty thefts or being away without leave or drunk. A constable was

found drunk on duty, and was dismissed. Other crimes were: working on Sunday (reprimanded),

keeping a disorderly house at Clarence Plains and assaulting a constable (three months’ hard labour),

insolence while going to church drunk on Sunday (two months) and wasting rations (two months).

More seriously, there were cases of murder. In 1836 John Clyde, a post office messenger, was

murdered while he was carrying mail. His body was found on the road with the head ‘dreadfully

beaten to pieces’, but the murderer was never discovered. In 1856 a convict was sentenced to penal

servitude for life for feloniously assaulting and carnally knowing an eight-year-old girl at South

Arm.97 There were many less serious crimes, such as hiding a man who had been ordered to work in

a chain gang. Sensible people took precautions, such as closing windows and keeping an eye on

servants, and including safety features in buildings; in 1834 the Horseshoe Inn at Cambridge was

built with iron window bars, for example. As an example of the district’s petty criminals, at Muddy

Plains lived a man called Ratcliff, and John Morrisby said that ‘the worst of characters, men and

women runaways and others’ went to his house, as they could obtain spirits and hide any goods there.

These goods were often taken to Hobart by fishermen or boatmen taking firewood, and sold for

rum.98

Most crimes were committed by men, but Honora (or Nora) Sheen often appeared in the

Kangaroo Point police court. An ex-convict, ex-prostitute, known for her drinking and fighting, in

1847 she had been found guilty of having sexual intercourse in a public street in Hobart. Two years

96 MacFie ‘From prize-fights...’ pp 141, 144 97 Extracts from Police Record Book of 1846, quoted in H O’May pp 114-6; SC 195/4, inquest no 200; HTC 22.4.36; copy of convict report, trial 3.11.56, in the possession of Ted Bezzant 98 Nicholls pp 553, 561, 560, 588, 595, 624, 647, 656; TM 7.6.84 p 29; Mather p 59

later she was living at Kangaroo Point with her ex-convict partner Jeremiah Crook. That year they

were charged with being drunk and using indecent language in the township; the next year she was

coming out of the Waterman’s Arms when she fell down. The constable said she was tipsy but not

drunk, and she was given a small fine. Over the next few years she was often charged with being

drunk and disorderly, and when in 1854 she tried to interfere when a fellow ex-convict was being

arrested, she was charged with disturbing the peace and using indecent language.99

A different type of crime occurred in 1837, when one of the wealthiest men in Clarence, fiery

Thomas Gregson of Risdon, fought a duel. He was a strong opponent of Governor Arthur, and

during a heated argument challenged an Arthur supporter. The duel was fought on the beach at

Kangaroo Point, and Gregson won, wounding his opponent in both legs. Nothing happened to him,

though later he was imprisoned for three months when he rashly horsewhipped the governor’s

nephew.100

More terrifying than these criminals were bushrangers, with some houses having iron bars on

their windows for protection. Matthew Brady was greatly feared. A convict, ‘a scamp rather than a

profligate’, Brady escaped from Macquarie Harbour in a boat with thirteen others. He landed on the

eastern shore of the Derwent, and one story goes that the first place he robbed was Gellibrand’s farm

at South Arm, where he took horses, arms, ammunition, clothes and provisions, then, since he was

known for his good manners, wished Gellibrand good morning and retreated.101

According to Daniel Stanfield’s grandson, Brady then sent word that he was going to stick up

Clarendon. Stanfield laid in a stock of arms and ammunition and for some time everyone was alert,

but gradually they relaxed. One day Stanfield was at work with some of his men when Brady and his

gang appeared. They had landed at the southern end of Frederick Henry Bay beach, where they

found out the way from a stockman, crossed the Neck, and went along Ralphs Bay beach to where

Stanfield was working. They called out that they would blow his brains out unless he accompanied

them to the house, so Stanfield gave in.

While some of the gang went to the house, others seized everyone coming along the road, and

in no time had a dozen people, including a one-armed hawker with a basket containing five dozen

eggs (which must have been hard for him to carry). A new batch of bread had just been made, there

were bacon and hams hanging from the rafters of the kitchen, and Brady got everyone – gang,

99 MacFie ‘From prize-fights...’ pp 144-5 100 H O’May p 54

passers-by, employees and presumably the Stanfield family – to sit down to a good meal of bacon

and eggs and bread. There was no liquor in the house, but there was tea and coffee.

The gang now ransacked the house. Upstairs there were two whale-blubber spades hanging

on the wall, relics of the whaling station at Trywork Point, and Stanfield thought of snatching one

and cutting Brady down, but decided not to as he knew it would seal the fate of the others in the

house. The gang seized arms and ammunition, but did not find much money. They took the captives

along the road and tied them to three trees, saying that even if they broke loose they were not to leave

for half an hour. The hawker did win free, and ran along the road as fast as possible, not stopping

until he reached Kangaroo Point. The three trees remained for many years, and the Stanfields did

receive one of the guns back; it was used by the gang to fight soldiers at Sorell, but was damaged and

thrown away.102 Brady spent two years bushranging, in a ‘career of outrage’, then was captured and

hanged.

Another bushranger passed through Clarence on his way to temporary freedom – the ‘boy

bushranger’ Rares, who came from the London slums and was transported aged nine for stealing an

apple. He was sent to Point Puer, but he escaped and made his way across the heavily-guarded

Eaglehawk Neck and on to Kangaroo Point. There he burgled the Plough Inn, stealing money and a

pair of pistols, then stole a boat, went to Hobart, and joined a band of bushrangers. Later that year,

during an attack on a house, his gun burst and blew his hand off, and he was captured and hanged.103

Even the governor’s wife was in danger from bushrangers. In 1838 John Price leased land at

Lindisfarne Bay from Thomas Gregson, where he grew crops, began to build a house (on the site of

the later Queen Victoria Home) and quarried lime, presumably at Geilston Bay. He was living in a

rented house at Rosny in June 1838 when he married Governor Franklin’s niece Mary. Shortly after

the wedding Lady Franklin was visiting them there, when a constable arrived with the news that

bushrangers might attack them. Lady Franklin, who felt unwell, was lying on the sofa, but she started

to her feet and demanded that they cross immediately to Hobart. She urged the others to rush, and

was nearly driven to a frenzy by her maid’s insistence on finding pillows and lime-water. ‘Fiddle dee

dee, of the lime water, said I’, wrote Lady Franklin to her sister in England. ‘Don’t you know the

bushrangers may be here directly!’ They left two men armed with pistols in the house, and Lady

Franklin, ‘who had hitherto walked with very feeble steps, almost ran down Mr Price’s hill to the

101 ADB 1, p 147; Lloyd p 179 102 Norman Sea Wolves p 157

boat’. In twenty minutes they were safe in Hobart. And after all that, the bushrangers never came

further than Richmond.104

Bushrangers were also seen in the north of Clarence, and in later years stories were told of the

terrifying Rocky Whelan and his gang, who generally roamed around Mt Wellington and McRobie’s

Gully, but were said to have committed several highway robberies and ‘stick-ups’ in the Grass Tree

Hill area. Rocky was finally captured in Hobart and was found to be wearing the trousers of a man he

had murdered on the Huon Road, so was hanged.105

Bushrangers were an occasional problem; much more usual were difficulties with health.

Doctors were rare in Clarence, and often did not know enough to cure diseases anyway. At first

people had to go to Hobart for medical help, however sick they were. For example, in 1820 a ‘poor

young man’, Dr Hamilton, was taken ill at Cambridge. He was taken to Hobart, but died the next

day.106 Ten years later, when Knopwood was ill he sent to Hobart for a doctor.

By 1830 Dr Francis Desailly was farming in Clarence Plains, and he did some medical work,

for example bleeding Knopwood when he was ill. In the 1850s Dr William Farman was practising at

Clarence Plains, which was good for people nearby but more difficult for those further away, as the

sad stories of Hannah Calvert and Jane Brown show. In February 1855 seventeen-year-old Hannah,

who lived at South Arm, went to visit her uncle at Muddy Plains, and since she was very hot she

drank some cold water. When she arrived home, on Monday morning, she started to vomit and

opened her bowels. She was given various medicines, doses of rhubarb and magnesia, castor oil

(twice) and tincture of rhubarb, but nothing did any good and early on Tuesday morning she died.

There was no mention of calling a doctor. Dr Coverdale from Richmond performed a post mortem,

which he said showed inflammation of the stomach. Both he and the coroner had no doubt that

Hannah died because she drank cold water at her uncle’s, which must have been dreadful for the

uncle.107

Two months later the Calverts’ neighbours, the Browns, suffered another sad death. While

his wife Eliza was away from home, Edward Brown took their children, ten-year-old Jane and three

younger boys, into the bush, presumably to work. He went to fetch the cow, and asked Jane to take

103 Norman p 170 104 Lady Franklin’s diary, RS 16/8, 21 June 1838 105 Mercury 7.5.04 106 Nicholls pp 283, 322-3 107 Nicholls p 636 and also 548, 600, 626, 643; SC 195/36 no. 3476

her little brothers home and cook the dinner. James and Louisa Green, a neighbouring couple, were

working in a field with their daughter when they heard screaming from the Browns’ hut. They

rushed over, and saw Jane running towards them ‘with her clothes all burning...I saw fire dropping

from her as she ran’. They removed what clothing remained, James sent a man to fetch Edward and

himself put out the fires which had started behind Jane, and Louisa covered Jane’s head with a

blanket which was hanging on a fence, since her hair was on fire. ‘Save me, Mrs Green, don’t let me

die’, Jane cried, and Louisa took her into her house and put ‘sweet oil and lime’ on her burns. She

asked Jane what had happened, and Jane said that she was making a stew and went to remove the pot

from the fire when her pinafore caught alight. Edward arrived, saw the burns, and rode twenty-five

miles for Dr Farman. When they arrived at the hut, the doctor found that Jane was severely burnt

from her neck to her feet. Though he did what he could and stayed until the next evening, she died.

This story shows considerable devotion on his part, staying with a patient for over twenty-four hours,

and probably unable, or even unwilling, to gain much payment from the Browns.108 It also shows

that people depended on homemade or patent medicines, like castor oil and ‘sweet oil and lime’.

Hannah and Jane’s deaths came about because of illness and accident, but many people

thought that much ill-health in Clarence (and elsewhere in Tasmania) was self-inflicted, arising from

drunkenness. In 1825 Henry Widowson thought the waterside pub at Kangaroo Point, the Golden

Fleece, must indeed bring a golden harvest to the innkeeper, as people had to pass it when crossing

the river, so that ‘the lower classes are constantly exhibiting the most deplorable scenes of

drunkenness’. Ross’ Almanac of 1831 stated that there was a lamentable waste of life by

intoxication, and the consumption of alcohol averaged five gallons per person, ‘a horrid state’; but

drinking had decreased recently, as many drunkards had died. Many boating accidents were said to

be caused by drunkenness, and the authorities would check this. In an inquest after one accident, the

coroner asked how much the passengers and especially the boatman had been drinking, but he had

witnesses to state that he had been ‘perfectly sober’. 109

People in Clarence and elsewhere certainly did enjoy a drink, but there were other leisure

activities as well. The sandy beach at Howrah was a favourite place, and Knopwood mentions

walking there – ‘took a walk before breakfast upon the beach’ – or taking children to play there. The

108 SC 195/36 no. 3510 109 Ross 1831 p 41; Widowson p 101; Backhouse pp 41, 42; SC 195/37 no. 3511

main leisure activity seems to have been visiting friends, for dinner, coffee or just a pipe, and

sometimes people had picnics, ‘bush dinners’.110

There were various forms of sport. Fishing was also a practical way of providing fresh food.

Racing was popular; many people went to watch races at New Town and Richmond, and some

entered horses. One of Henry Morrisby’s horses beat seven others, his old pony defeating some of

the latest colts. In 1826 a meeting was held on Frederick Henry Bay beach at the Neck, with two

races, each the best of three two-mile heats, and a good prize of fifty guineas. The four horses

belonged to local men. ‘The best of Sport was shewn, and a numerous concourse of Spectators

attended on that well-adapted and excellently chosen Racing Ground’, ran the press report. Michael

Lackey’s horse Favourite and Daniel Stanfield’s chestnut Paddy were the winners, and after this

excitement ‘a numerous and respectable Party’ went to Stanfield’s house, where ‘that enterprizing

Colonist’ gave a splendid ball and supper. Other races were held on beaches, at Clarence Plains and

Muddy Plains on Boxing Day, or on flat land, with Waterloo Course at the head of Ralphs Bay

considered the best in Tasmania because of its springy turf. Races were also held at Wentworth, on

the flat behind the beach. Another popular sport was cricket, which people enjoyed playing on

holidays. In 1837 a party came from Hobart to play a game, and by 1849 there was a Clarence Plains

Cricket Club. They year they played against Pittwater, and in 1953 they played an eleven from

Muddy Plains, at Rokeby.111

Less respectable was prize fighting. In 1827 there was a complaint of an invasion of ‘thieves

and blackguards’ from Hobart to Clarence Plains to watch a fight between two men for £20, on a

farm adjoining the Glebe, with, ‘as may be expected’, a house robbed that evening. A similar fight

had been held recently, and another was planned, added the writer indignantly. Presumably the fight

was held in this out-of-the-way place to avoid police interest. For the next twenty years there was

little mention of fighting, which might have been driven underground by more organised police

activity, but in 1848 there was an organised fight at Risdon Ferry. The pugilists, two convicts, were

caught and given six months’ hard labour for fighting. There were also impromptu fights; in 1855 a

man and his shepherd started fighting and using bad language at the inn at Risdon, and there were

also fights at the Kangaroo Point ferry.112

110 Nicholls pp 566, 576, 578, 580, 595, and many other examples, especially of dining 111 Nicholls pp 484, 559, 562, 566, 578, 579, 608, 631, 641, 642, 645, 646, 662, 670, 678, 679; H O’May p 80 (second version); CT 19.5.26, 9.4.47, 3.11.53 112 MacFie ‘From prize-fights...’ pp 138-9; HTC 27.10.27

Much more acceptable to respectable people were ploughing matches, where men could

exhibit the skill they had built up during years of labour. From the 1830s ploughing matches were

held at Richmond, Clarence Plains and Cambridge. The 1850 Cambridge Ploughing Match took

place at the McKays’ farm with 23 ploughs involved, and went off with much spirit. The ploughmen

of the leading farmers all competed for the prizes, and there was also a Native Youth’s Prize, for

young ploughmen born in the colony.113

People had gone hunting since the first days of settlement, both for sport and for food, but

Thomas Gregson took the sport seriously. In 1834 he imported a pack of hounds and set up an

English-style hunt, which his friend Knopwood attended. In May 1836 Knopwood wrote that he

rode to Llanherne and breakfasted there, after which the hunt started, with thirty gentlemen taking

part. ‘We were a long time before we found a kangarro at the neck of land. At 1/2 past 12 we found

and have a noble burst and killd. It was ran into the sea.’ Hunts were not always so enjoyable. The

next month the hunt met at Clarence Plains, but did not sight a kangaroo until late in the afternoon.

‘The burst was so hard running that many were thrown out. They were at last obliged to whip off the

hounds, it began to get so dark...the riding was so hard that [Stokell’s] horse died very soon after he

got into the stable, and Mr. [Desailly] was very ner dying’ (sic), wrote Knopwood. He described

another exciting hunt the next year: a very large field soon found a kangaroo and chased it for about

18 km until they lost him in the scrub. They chased another kangaroo for 30 km, to the lagoon and

back again, and finally killed him. ‘Very great sport’, with a big dinner afterwards at a Kangaroo

Point inn.114

The other major sport was sailing, which was extremely popular at Kangaroo Point

especially, where so many men were involved in river activities through ferries. In 1831 a Hobart

regatta included a race for 21 boats, from Hobart to Kangaroo Bay and Crayfish Point and back, a

‘very good sight’ for those watching at Kangaroo Point. In the 1840s annual regattas began at

Hobart, and many Clarence people took part. ‘Kangaroo Point produces the best boats and ablest

management beyond competition’, wrote a press report of 1843; Peter Buchanan of Kangaroo Point

had ‘as usual’ won first prize with his splendid sailing boat Terror. But 1847 was a sad regatta for

Kangaroo Point people. The weather was poor, with a fresh wind and squalls of rain, but the sailing

race started with six entrants. John Petchey, an enthusiastic lover of sailing who had built many fine

113 MacFie ‘From prize-fights...’ pp 147-8; HTC 30.10.50; see also CT 23.10.49 (match in Clarence) 114 Nicholls pp 637, 648, 649, 671

ships, commanded one of his own boats, the British Queen. He was coming second, when a heavy

squall obscured the boats from the spectators. When it cleared, the Queen had sunk. Everyone

rushed to help and one man was rescued by the police boat, but Petchey drowned.115

In January 1853 the first Kangaroo Bay regatta was held, but became mixed up in politics.

There was great opposition to transportation, and Governor Denison, a strong supporter of

transportation, agreed to open the regatta. Anti-transportationists organised their own regatta in

competition, and the Kangaroo Bay regatta was described by newspapers, depending on which side

they were on, as either very successful, or a failure, with hardly any competitors and the boats out of

sight of spectators most of the time. Another regatta was held at Kangaroo Bay the next January, but

the weather was so poor that several boats capsized and the gangway of a ferry collapsed, so that

‘women, children and drunkards fell into the water, luckily without loss of life’. A third regatta was

held in December 1854, in beautiful weather, to which crowds of people came from Hobart. Events

at these celebrations included races for watermen, native youth (born in the colony) and scullers, in

whaleboats and yachts. In later years the regatta did not do so well, due, said the Mercury, to bad

luck with the weather, bad management, and the support of one political party, which alienated

everyone else.116

Sporting events often included a dinner or party of some sort, and people enjoyed giving such

functions for their friends. Those given by the wealthy were sometimes described in the press. In

1851 Richard Cleburne, the new occupier of Restdown at Risdon, gave a party for about a hundred

people to celebrate completing a causeway which connected his house with the main road, and saved

half an hour of riding. A large pavilion was erected on the lawn, a substantial repast was provided

with whisky and wine, and there were loyal toasts and 21 gun salutes as the bridge was named.

People enjoyed throwing quoits, throwing the hammer, and boat races on the river, and after dusk

thirty bonfires were lit. Everyone was delighted with the ‘Restdown Pic-Nic’.117

The natural beauty of Clarence was appreciated. People had come there for pleasure since the

earliest days, and in 1827, for example, the Governor, his family and many invited guests sailed to

‘Geil’s-town’ for a picnic. In 1844 the Gellibrand farm at South Arm was advertised as having the

beauties of nature lavishly bestowed on it, with a mild and salubrious climate unsurpassed in this

hemisphere and probably in any other. By the 1850s Clarence’s beauty, its land and seascapes, were

115 Nicholls pp 541, 578, 586, 627; O’May p 57; HTC 13.11.47 116 Anon, ‘The Bellerive Regatta...’ p 2; Stoney p 77; Mercury 11.9.58

widely praised, in general writing and in advertisements for houses. Views were beautiful, magnificent,

picturesque and even romantic, situations were healthy, and in 1849 Howrah was described as just the

place for ‘any person wishing to retire from the noise and bustle of the town’. In 1858 the property of

Bay View in Rokeby was advertised for sale; it could be a boarding house or hotel for invalids wanting

a change of air, as it was in one of the most healthy districts in Tasmania, and ‘the beautiful bay has

every facility for sea bathing’. Going to the seaside had become a popular activity, with people strolling

about, playing or resting on a beach and swimming, and having a ‘pic-nic’.118

Kangaroo Point in particular was becoming well-known for its beautiful beaches, and with

Hobart growing busy, it was seen as a quiet oasis. Kangaroo Point, ‘pretty and salubrious’, was

described as a favoured village for summer residence, and people there could add to their incomes by

letting rooms. Visitors also came for the day, and an 1858 report enthused about the beauties of a trip

there; people could fish, swim, collect seaweed and shells, catch trout in the lagoon, or take a romantic

stroll with ‘a certain party’ along the beach, ostensibly to look for shells, and return late from the

delightful ramble because they could not find the way, or had not the least idea it was so late. 119

In 1855 a steamer took two hundred passengers, a band and abundant refreshments on a day trip

from Hobart. They called in at South Arm and Mortimer Bay, then anchored in Ralphs Bay, where

some people went on shore and some fished from the boat. The day was fine, the breeze invigorating,

there was not a single mishap (ran the report, in a congratulatory way) and the whole day was most

delightful.120

BOXED ITEMS

Place Names in Clarence

During this period several places in Clarence had their names changed, though the original name has

been used in the chapter for consistency.

Kangaroo Point to Bellerive

The town of Kangaroo Point was renamed Bellerive in about 1832, though the new name was slow to

catch on. It was suggested by George Frankland who lived in Secheron at Battery Point. Wayne

117 HTC 23.4.51 118 HTG 20.4.22; CT 5.1.27; HTC 7.2.29, 20.1.49, 26.11.44; Mercury 11.9.58, 12.2.58 119 HTC 20.1.49, Stoney p 77; Mercury 11.9.58 120 Newspaper cutting dated 7.11.55, in the possession of Ted Bezzant

Smith, the authority on place names, comments that across the lake from the original Secheron in

France is the pretty village of Bellerive, and Frankland could have been struck by the similar

situation. Bellerive means ‘beautiful river bank’. In about 1915 a newspaper article on the history of

Bellerive approved the change, saying that Kangaroo Point had been a bad name, reminiscent of the

time of wild animals. These had been replaced by tame cows, which the writer thought a great

improvement. Kangaroo Point and Kangaroo Bay were still used to describe the general area.

Elderly residents still called Bellerive ‘Kangaroo Point’ or just ‘The Point’ in 1915.121

Clarence Plains to Rokeby: The village of Clarence Plains came to be called Rokeby, after George

Stokell’s residence there, Rokeby House, which he called after a village near his original home in

Durham, England. Clarence Plains was still used to described the general area.

Hollow Tree to Cambridge: By 1820 Tasmania was divided into 23 districts, one of which was

called Cambridge. It was colloquially called Hollow Tree and ‘Cambridge’ was ignored for years,

but eventually the more official name took over, especially since there was another Hollow Tree

elsewhere.122 Cambridge has been used in this chapter for clarity.

Risdon and Restdown: The first white settlement was at Risdon Cove, but an early farmer, Geils,

called his property there Restdown, and the names were used interchangeably for decades, both

popularly and officially; for example, the ferry inn was licensed as both the Risdon and Restdown

Ferry Inn. Gradually Restdown became less used, but there was confusion as Risdon was used for

both banks of the Derwent. In the early twentieth century they were called East Risdon and West

Risdon.

Muddy Plains to Sandford: Strictly speaking this change happened after 1860, presumably because

Muddy Plains was too unattractive a name. Sandford probably came from the Anglican Bishop

Sandford, 1882-89, the only other known use of the name.

Relph’s Bay and Ralphs Bay: Hayes had originally called the bay after an officer on his ship,

Relph, but this was an unusual name and even by 1804 people were calling it Ralphs Bay.

Single Hill and Signal Hill: These names were both used: Single Hill because it was a single hill

rising from a plain, and Signal Hill because of the signal on top, part of the chain from Port Arthur to

121 AOT NS 544/2/50 122 Evans p 127

Hobart. It was clearly a single hill years before the signal was put in place; surveyor John Wedge

called it Single Hill in 1826, and Single Hill remains its official name.123

Shipwrecks: the Hope and the Princess Royal

These years saw several dramatic shipwrecks around Clarence’s shores. The Hope arrived in

Storm Bay in April 1827, and the pilot boarded from Bruny Island just before sunset to take the ship

up to Hobart. The night was dark, with thick rain. The Chief Officer, Henry Park, stayed on deck

until 4 am, but shortly afterwards he was told that the ship was in trouble. The pilot said there was

no danger, but Park could hear breakers and sure enough the ship did strike the shore, on the long

beach between Betsey Island and the Iron Pot, afterwards called Hope Beach. The pilot had

mistaken low land for the entrance to the Derwent.

A high surf was running, and there was general consternation. The captain raved at the pilot,

while the vessel rolled in the surf and made water like a sieve. The guns were fired to try to alert

help, as the ship was expected to break up in pieces at any moment. Several hours later two whaling

boats came up and with a great deal of difficulty took off the passengers and crew, though one of the

boats upset in the surf and the pilot was injured.

The Hope was believed to have been carrying a large sum of money, pay for the Hobart

garrison, which was guarded by soldiers. The money vanished, and it was said that the soldiers had

hidden it in the sand dunes, though before they could retrieve it they were transferred to India then

England. One told the story to an Irish farmer called McKinnon, and supplied a rough map.

McKinnon sold his farm and came to Hobart, where he bought tools, stores and a miner’s right and

landed on Dennes Point on Bruny Island, three miles across Storm Bay from Hope Beach. Mr Denne

asked him what his heavy box contained, and received an evasive answer. Further mysterious

actions led him to tell the police, but when they ordered McKinnon to open the box they saw only

two phials of liquid, so they could do nothing.

McKinnon returned to Ireland to obtain a more detailed map from the soldier, and searched

again but found nothing. He ended his days as a labourer in Hobart. How the soldiers could have

moved the treasure from Hope Beach to Bruny Island is not clear and the whole story seems

123 HTG 20.4.22 shows Restdown House to let; licensing lists 1840-1865; Post Office Directories 1900-1910 for East and West Risdon; Nicholls p 49; Wedge p 29

unreliable, but it caused many people to shift tons of sand on Bruny Island and Hope Beach, looking

for buried treasure.124

Another shipwreck occurred four years later. The Princess Royal was bringing 300 free

women from London to Hobart, and her master mistook the entrance to Frederick Henry Bay for the

entrance to the Derwent. When he discovered his mistake he anchored, but a gale sprang up and the

vessel started to drift, and was carried towards Seven Mile Beach. A farmer, Ralph Dodge, saw this

and lit a fire at the entrance to Pittwater and the master steered there. Despite Dodge’s efforts the

ship grounded on the sandy beach. The authorities in Hobart sent three boats manned by reliable

married constables to rescue the women, which was achieved with some difficulty.125

The Stokell household, free and convict

Born in 1787, George Stokell inherited his family’s properties in Durham and lived there with his wife

and four children. In 1821 some upheaval caused his wife to vanish from the records; George remarried

and sailed with his new wife Hannah to Tasmania, leaving the children, including a baby, behind. In

Hobart the Stokells set up a timber yard and sawmill, and bought land in Clarence. George built a

mansion, and named it Rokeby. He and Hannah, good walkers, would catch the ferry, walk to Rokeby,

look at progress in the building and possibly climb Acton Hill, then return to Hobart, all in one day.

Once the house was finished they lived at Rokeby, and from there George ran his Hobart business and

the other properties in the Midlands.

Descendants told stories of convict servants. One named Hannah had been convicted for a small

theft to provide for her children. She could not write, so Mrs Stokell transcribed letters to her family.

She was saving to return to them, refusing marriage to do so, but when she finally arrived she found that

her husband had married again and her children were ashamed of her. Then there was a stockman

named Rossiter, ‘a knowing sort of man who would cock his head and boast in a nasal drawl that coves

that tried to put one over him found him “a bit too old in the horn”’. When he was sixty he married

Mary, a fourteen-year-old girl who worked at Rokeby House and had a habit of falling over things.

‘“What’s that noise?’ asked someone when the drawing room ceiling fell. “Oh”, said the other, “I

suppose it is only Mary falling downstairs again”.’ The unusual pair went to New Zealand and

prospered.

124 O’May Wrecks pp 14-17 125 O’May Wrecks pp 18-9; GO 33/11/792, GO 33/12/231, 12.10.32; HTC 24.8.32, 31.8.32

While George Stokell was living at Rokeby the manager of his Hobart business absconded with

the money, and George was ruined. He struggled on, greatly helped by good prices for farm produce in

the gold rush of the 1850s, and as he grew older his daughter Henrietta ran his business affairs. He died

in 1874 aged 86.126

Robert Mather and the problems farmers could face

Robert Mather was a London hosier, but his wife Ann had poor health, and in 1821 the family decided

to emigrate to Tasmania, in the hope of both good business and better health. Robert set up a successful

business, but he wanted to live in the country by the sea for Ann’s sake, and in 1824 received a land

grant on Ralphs Bay, which he called Lauderdale. He built a large weatherboard house and outhouses,

kept animals and grew crops. The soil was not good and Robert spent much money trying to improve it

with ditching and reclamation schemes, but as he know nothing about this or farming he was dependent

on overseers, and spent far more than the land was worth – it was deficient in copper, which no one then

could have known. He and his wife were devoted Christians, who often held church services in their

home and entertained the Quaker missionaries Backhouse and Walker.

Ann’s health did not improve and in 1831 Robert left his fifteen-year-old son to run the business

and moved to Lauderdale entirely. But Ann died shortly afterwards, and their daughter Sarah kept

house for her father. Meanwhile the business was not prospering, and Mather found himself in financial

difficulties. In 1836 he had to sell Lauderdale, and received a poor price for it. He began business

again in Hobart, and prospered.127

Elizabeth Morrisby of Muddy Plains

Elizabeth, or Betsey, Mack was born in Hobart in 1808, and after her mother died and her father

deserted her, she was adopted by Robert Knopwood, the clergyman. She went to boarding school at

Clarence Plains, and in 1824, aged sixteen, married Henry Morrisby, a young man of excellent

character, as Knopwood wrote. He persuaded the governor to grant Elizabeth land at Muddy Plains, and

she and Henry established a farm there, calling it Woodland Green.

When Betsey was four months pregnant she went to stay with Knopwood in Hobart, and she

gave birth to the baby, Robert, in his house, attended by a doctor. Six weeks later she took Robert

126 Collins pp 33-49 127 Walker pp 51-66

home. She often brought him to Hobart to visit Knopwood, shop, have Robert vaccinated against

smallpox, and visit Knopwood when he was ill. ‘She conducts herself with great care and is an

excellent mother’, wrote Knopwood to English relations. ‘They live very happy – on their farm at

Muddy Plain.’ In 1828 Betsey had a ‘fitt’ and miscarried, but recovered. Then there was some sort of

marital upset and Knopwood wrote that Henry behaved badly towards Betsey, but this calmed down and

in 1830 Betsey was pregnant again. This time she stayed at Muddy Plains, probably attended by a

midwife. She died in childbirth, aged only 22.

Knopwood was devastated by her death and mourned her for the rest of his life. He took great

care of Robert, sending him to school in Hobart and having him to stay in the holidays, and Henry’s

sister cared for the new baby. Eight months after Betsey’s death Henry married her friend Christiana

Smith; they had a large family and prospered at Woodland Green.128 Today many descendants of

Elizabeth, Henry and Christiana Morrisby live in Clarence.

A Trip to Bellerive and Clarence Plains in 1858

Bellerive and Clarence were well worth a visit, wrote ‘A Frequent Visitor’ in the Mercury. A

pleasant, twelve-minute trip across the magnificent Derwent brought you to the township of

Bellerive, which might strike you as dull, but would develop. St Mark’s chapel was neat, but had

nothing to recommend it but simplicity; the road past took you to beautiful beaches, where the

bathing was good – though dangerous on the second beach, where the writer had several times lost

his footing when sand banks receded in to the sea – and you could collect pretty seaweed and shells,

while the caves on the bluff were very picturesque, full of romantic beauty.

For the first two miles the road to Clarence Plains was not very interesting, as it went through

a dry and sandy area, thickly grown over with ferns and other native plants. You passed Howrah, the

pretty country residence of a Hobart businessman, then more farms, and at the top of Skillion Hill the

scenery suddenly burst on you, with fine ranges of mountains on either side, and an extensive view of

Ralphs Bay and South Arm – ‘nature radiant in all her loveliness’. Particularly lovely was the ‘truly

English’ homestead of Rokeby, with its hawthorn hedges, so pretty in spring. To the right ran the

road to Droughty Point, where crayfish and mushrooms abounded, and then you entered the village,

which was small but picturesque, with its school, shops, houses, pretty church and excellent inn. A

128 Nicholls passim, but especially pp 353, 374, 432, 434, 437, 446, 460, 462, 463, 473, 478, 485, 514, 524, 536-8, 564; Hookey p 103

fine cricket club had been established and it had an admirable ground, though this needed rolling and

levelling. The club owed a Hobart club a return match, which promised well since there were some

good players in Clarence. There was plenty of shooting in ‘the back woods’ – pigeons, parrots,

magpies, miners, quail, wallaby, possums, wild cats, kangaroo rats, bandicoots and rabbit. All in all,

you could not do better than visit this ‘truly English-like village’.129

129 Mercury 11.9.1858