1980 - Sewell, Henry. The Journal of Henry Sewell, 1853-7. Volume II - BALLARAT AND THE GOLDFIELDS, p 293-304

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BALLARAT AND THE GOLDFIELDS

[Monday, ] 29 December [1856]. I have been to the diggings; spent my Christmas there, leaving Elizabeth solitary in Melbourne. I do

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not pretend to justify the last arrangement, but the truth was, unless I had gone then and there, I should not have had an opportunity of seeing Ballarat; and as to taking Elizabeth with me, after long debating, and great anxiety on her part to go, I determined ultimately against it, and right glad am I therefore. I started on Tuesday [23 December] morning per Railroad to Sandridge to meet the Geelong Steam boat. She was lying alongside the Pier, and in about a quarter of an hour was off, on her way to Geelong, which lies in one of the deep indentations forming the Coast of the Harbour. It has pretensions to set itself up as rival to Melbourne, but its destiny is evidently to be what it now is, an inferior outport. We reached it in about two hours and a half, the water smooth as a Millpond, but the Harbour is so wide that there is no object worth noticing. Reached Geelong about half-past 12--landed at a Pier. There was a small sprinkling of Shipping, but of comparatively small size, nothing to compete with Melbourne. A Coach to Ballarat was waiting at the end of the Pier, a vehicle of the queerest shape--consisting of about half a dozen successive box seats of a Coach, set upon springs of a marvellous kind--American Coaches made for American roads, the only kind of conveyance which would live for a day over such roads as we travelled. Driven by an American Driver, a sober, steady, long headed, civil Yankee; the best Driver I think I ever saw. It was a four horsed affair, capital beasts, just like the old Stage Coaches in England. Geelong is a tolerably lively Town apparently of 5 or 6000 inhabitants. The Country about it, treeless, sandy, dry and uninteresting. Some Mountain ranges in the neighbourhood relieve what would otherwise be a monotony of low undulating country. Brown pastures stretching away in the direction of Melbourne, and up to the foot of the ranges, have the appearance of arid sands. There is positively nothing to write about Geelong, that is its externals, except that it seemed a tolerably thriving well to do place, with some sober respectable looking Houses, and a few big Warehouses. In the neighbourhood of Geelong is the Barrabool Country, they say the best agricultural country in the Colony; a sort of Table land between Geelong and the Heads of Port Phillip. The Railway to Melbourne is not yet finished. It seems to me to be a mighty waste of money. What can be the use of constructing at such an immense cost a machine to carry people to and fro between these two places; for as to goods, of course they come by water. Now there seems to be a question whether the Railroad to Ballarat from Melbourne shall be direct, or shall be a continuation of the Geelong line. 1 Civil war is on the point of breaking out between the places on this account, at least

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between the Newspapers. The real bone of contention is the Ballarat Trade; how to get the Diggers' gold in exchange for commodities. Whichever way the Railroad goes it seems likely that Geelong which now supplies Ballarat with goods, will go to the wall. A continuous line of Railway to Melbourne by any route will send the Ballarat dealers to Melbourne in preference to Geelong. I asked the reason. It seems that the Storekeepers look out to supply themselves through the Auctions which are continually being held for disposing of the wrecks of London consignments. The London Merchants recklessly throw into the Melbourne Market vastly more goods than are wanted, which are of course sold to pay charges; the only gainer is the Storekeeper who pockets the extra profits, charging his customers after the usual Colonial rate--perhaps losing his money after all, by giving improvident credit, whilst very likely the Melbourne consignee pockets the proceeds. I suspect there is a great deal of this unhealthy trading. Now and then there are whispers affecting the Commercial credit of the place. Some are bruited about now.

But my Coach is standing still all this time. I mount with about eight or ten others. Crack goes the whip--We are off, just in the style of the old Stage Coach, rattling through the Streets of Geelong; pausing at the doors of two or three Coach Offices, at which stand drunken diggers or ex-diggers. The Driver cracks the usual jokes, though by the bye our Driver was too steady and business-like looking a fellow to have much joke in him. Off at last we go, through the Town, and out of it, and the moment we are beyond its skirts we fall into a track which serves for a road. We got over the ground at the rate of nine miles an hour, the Coach plunging and ploughing through the furrows; the centrifugal force which would otherwise pitch one into the road, only being overcome by a tenacious grasp of the rail which forms the back of the seat. Out of Geelong we climb one high hill, and descend another, and then make another ascent; and now we are mounted on a high table land, which stretches all the way to Ballarat, the whole road on a gradual rise--Ballarat lying at the foot of the Bun[in]yong Range about 1000 or 1200 feet above the level of the Sea. Our road improves here and there, where new metal has been laid down, but it is for the most part of the same character till within 25 miles of Ballarat where it is under improvement. This is the best time of year, and it is said to be good. As to its winter condition, people use ejaculations to express it; 'Oh if you did but see it!' There are no epithets of adequate force. Parts of the road have acquired a special nomenclature. There are 'the Bay of Biscay' and 'the dead men's graves'. The one indicating a succession of short lopping seas, done in hard material, the other a

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series of gravestones, and tumuli, which might be the graveyard of deceased passengers. One's Coach companions are neither better nor worse than the usual run of outsiders. Their talk is of gold, of yields, and rushes, and claims. One hears wonderful accounts of the success of this or that party; but one hears nothing of the cases of failure. The idea is that of a vast lottery, and all men's minds are set upon the prizes--the blanks are put out of sight.

Along the road at intervals are shewy Hotels or rather Public Houses, accommodation for the road to the diggings. Long trains of Bullock drays are carrying up stores; the whole road is full of life and motion, but of a settled orderly kind; indeed little to distinguish it from a road to a thriving Provincial Town in England on Market day; except the strangeness of the vehicles, the badness of the roads, and the features of the Landscape. From Geelong for about 30 miles the scenery is uninteresting. After getting on the Table land immediately on leaving Geelong, we travel for a long space over open plains, with ranges in the distance, a few scattered gum trees in the foreground, and here and there deep valleys or ravines shewing signs of better land. The quality of the land so-so--the grass poor, thin, and parched; grazed by Cattle few and far between. I take for granted that the incursion of a thick population has upset the squatting. I saw no signs of Sheep or Cattle in herds; only Bullocks turned loose from the Drays, picking up a livelihood for themselves. About 30 miles from Geelong we approach a prettier country. Before us is Mount Bunfinlyong 2 a hill between 1500 and 2000 feet high, behind which lies the gold field of Ballarat. The scenery improves, the Timber thickens; now we may be driving through an English Park, only the trees are the same everlasting gum, unpicturesque, not so much on account of their form,--for they stretch their branches in all sorts of contortions, but their foliage is thin and meagre, of a dull green and for the most part the bark is shed, and the trunks look miserable and diseased. Still the general effect is agreeable. One or two points in the scenery were striking. As we approach Bun[in]yong we look down a long vista of descending road, with the Mountain in the background.

At Bun[in]yong itself is a very pretty clearing in the Forest, where buildings are springing up, and a Township is being formed, close on the borders of the Ballarat gold field. About 25 miles from Ballarat the road improves, and over part a plank road has been formed 3 --smooth planks framed and laid together fitting closely, so that the Coach rolls over a sort of flooring. An American fashion,

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simple, and which answers for a time, but liable to get soon out of order. Here and there it rose and sunk in furrows, as bad as the natural soil. They are making a good metalled road the whole way, and in a few months travelling to the Gold fields will not be more difficult than a ride from London to Oxford in the best days of old stage Coaches. This strangely disappoints all one's calculations. I suspect that as soon as these difficulties of transit are surmounted there will be more rushing to the Gold district. At Bun[in]yong we first catch a glimpse of the Gold region. Shewing out from between the Trees is a tented field. At Bun[in]yong (9 miles from Ballarat) the diggings may be said to commence. The gold field stretches down so far, and Heaven knows how much farther. But we are not yet in the thick of it. We are here at the foot of Mount Bun[in]yong, a forest covered hill, rising immediately above us. A hundred tracks through the trees lead apparently in all directions; all alike bad, and testing the Driver's skill to the utmost; in and out, round this stump--then avoiding that deep hole, shaving close to a tree, round which the Coach makes a sharp turn, not minding the roots, over which you go, with a jerk that half dislocates your neck.

Now we get amongst the diggings themselves; the ground every where has been turned up--holes more or less deep begin to multiply, making the driving perilous. In a short time we open on the flat itself; a space of low ground through which an insignificant stream runs, surrounded by hills, or rather what might be conceived to be high river banks, upraised, leaving a depressed flat, forming a valley, below them. Every inch of soil in this flat, which may be a couple of miles wide (it varies of course) appears to have been turned up, disclosing soil of all colors; generally the white pipe clay, and white quartz gravel, variegated with spaces of red ochreous earth, altogether a glaring surface, painful to the eyes. The smoothness of Nature has been horribly disfigured. Mounds, pits, heaps, are spread every where. Amongst these heaps and holes are innumerable tents, booths, wooden cabins, all contributing to the whiteness, glare, and general chaos of the whole effect. Mixed with these buildings are machines of various kinds--Steam Engines spitting out streams of vapour, wheels worked by Horses drawing up the stuff. All about, men are engaged, some in digging--some in washing--some in puddling--and all the different operations of the Gold-field. 4 We gallop along at a tremendous pace. (I suppose the honor of the Coach requires this furious driving through a crowded narrow street, but it is very uncomfortable.) The population is of all

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races--lots of Chinese. 5 The main street of Ballarat is more like the main thoroughfare of a Fair than any thing else I know. The houses are for the most part like booths, though some have splendid Shop-fronts, plate glass &.c, fine enough for Melbourne. We ascend a little hill, and are in the Township of Ballarat, 6 distinguished from the flat where the workings are. On this higher ground the Town is laid out, and is assuming a more formed character. A large pretensious Hotel is the most prominent building at which the Coach stops at about 7 p.m. I descend, and at first prepare to take up my quarters here. I am shewn into a decent room, and then into a large apartment where every body is at tea, or supper. A heavy tea we should call it. A sort of Table d'Hote, perhaps thirty people seated at table. Of course there is no great sign of comfort in all this. So I proceeded at once to deliver a letter of introduction given me by Mr Sladen, the Col. Treasurer, 7 to the Superintendent of Police, Mr Foster. 8 I find him at home, and in fact he is expecting me. Being a Member of the New Zealand Government, Mr Sladen very civilly orders a Police Horse to be placed at my disposal, and the intelligence of my expected arrival had preceded me. Mr Foster is extremely civil--tells me I must not remain at the Hotel, he will put me up. So I take up my quarters in the Government Camp at Mr Foster's. This Camp is a sort of Barrack where all the Government Officers are congregated--Police--Military--Gold Commissioners--Surveyors &c. &c. with a Mess and every thing barrack-like. Mr Foster and his wife extremely kind. By all accounts, he is an active intelligent Officer of considerable energy. Mrs Foster gave me some tea, and in the evening I sallied out with Mr Foster upon a Police inspection of the Town. We visited all the places of public entertainment, Theatres, Concerts and Ball-rooms, and very orderly they all seemed; very much more orderly than an English Fair in a Provincial Town; but the character of the whole affair not unlike it. As to Theatres, they get them up in a wonderful way, and London stars condescend to shine in this golden firmament.

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Madame Anna Bishop 9 had just left. Theatrical amusements seemed to be the principal stimulant of the place. I hear that there is a good deal of gambling. The Chinese are great gamblers, but it is all carried on sub rosa. Got home about 12 o'clock, and to bed on a shake-down in Mr Foster's drawing-room.

Christmas Day [1856]. To Church, in a small wooden building 10 --very much out of proportion to the population or wealth of the place. A mere affair of a few hundred pounds, capable of holding not more than 2 or 300 people; and it was not full. The Service very well done, and a good Sermon from a gentleman whom I afterwards met, and with whom I had some talk about Church affairs at the diggings. They are not in a satisfactory state. Somehow or another the Bishop does not get on. His clergy do not like him. At all events there is want of management somewhere. The Church of England at Ballarat cannot be said to have existence. Here, and about here is a population of 50 or 60,000 11 with one Clergyman, and Church accommodation say for 300. True, they are building another Church to cost £3000, but that presents nothing adequate to the end. 12 Mr Potter, the clergyman, 13 laments over the state of things. Prudently he confines himself to one district, one Parish; thinking rightly that it is better to do something effective with a small section, than to dissipate his efforts over an unmanageable space. How these great evils are to be remedied I do not know. Other religious bodies seem to do more than we do; but there are no certain statistics of any kind. The population comes and goes, like flocks of birds. This state of unfixedness is an insuperable bar to any effective measures of good. It is impossible to civilise nomadic tribes. What interest can men take in a place which to them has nothing of home. That is the one prominent idea forced upon me by the Diggings--A population without a home. And unless this can be supplied by fixing them, the real value of the Gold will be lost to the Colony. How to fix this vagrant population appears to me the problem of Government, and I do not as yet perceive either distinct appreciation of the object or any practical step towards it on the part of Government. They revel in an over-flowing Exchequer, and

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glorify themselves therewith; undertaking all sorts of costly works, which are in great part mere shows, and gaudy decorations, with a small modicum of utility. They seem also to forget that all this great prosperity rests on a chance. What if new and richer Gold fields should turn up elsewhere? Where would all this crowding population be? Ballarat and Bendigo would suddenly collapse. Melbourne would shrink into comparative insignificance, and every body would be ruined. But, they say, the Diggings are inexhaustible, and there can be none richer. Both these propositions have as yet to be verified. The alluvial diggings at present discovered are manifestly exhaustible, and are in course of exhaustion. New fields may be discovered, probably will be so, but this is speculation. The permanent Gold wealth of the Colony seems to be in the Quartz Reefs; but then the question is, will they pay? They require large capital, and they involve the co-operative agency of capital and labour upon the ordinary terms, Capital to be Master. Will this population of independent Diggers submit to become a mere band of servile Miners, working for wages? I think not. 14 So long as alluvial diggings present themselves here or elsewhere, so long I do not think mining labour will be found for working the Quartz Reefs, except at rates which will be unremunerative to the Capitalist. As it is it cannot pay the Capitalist to employ hired labour upon Gold mining. The Miners get £l a day wages or thereabouts. But the average returns of Gold shew only a yield of about 10s or 12s per day. To employ labour at £l whilst the product is only 10s or 12s is simply ruinous. Nothing but some new discovery which shall either economize labour or increase the product can mend this. As a matter of fact there is no evidence as yet, that Quartz crushing will pay. As far as I can learn, the converse is the case. I saw a Machine at Ballarat (and close to a rich reef) abandoned; it did not pay. Still that question has to be settled. But meantime it is rashness in the Government to proceed as if this fundamental condition were an ascertained fact. It may be so; and there is ground for hoping for the best; but it is absolute spendthriftry to set up Establishments, calculating upon such data.

Christmas Day was kept in a very well-behaved manner. A Cricket Match was played. I do not myself object to such games. A few people dined at Mr Foster's. A neighbouring Squatter--a Gold-Broker--one of the Wardens of a neighbouring Gold-field. A very abundant Christmas Dinner, but there was disappointment at the non appearance of a Bustard, the wild Turkey, which is plentiful in these parts, and must be glorious game. Altogether, though it was

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very unlike a Bonchurch Christmas, it was not to be complained of, and my Host and Hostess were extremely kind.

The next day I loitered about, and meant to have gone down one of the deep sinkings; but it was a holiday and the Diggers were not at work. The sinkings here are many of them very deep--2 or 300 feet. They are obliged to keep them clear of water by Machinery. These sinkings are in alluvial soil. How the formation came to be as it is, is a difficult question. The Geologists talk of up-heavings and depressions, as if at one time or another the crust of the Earth had been kneaded, like Pastry-cooks' dough. I cannot say that I have the slightest faith in Geology. Certainly these Gold fields are a perplexity. Up from the bottom of these diggings, they bring charred wood, not as yet passed into the state of lignite. 15 I bought a few specimens of minerals, but am unable to appreciate their value. In the evening I went to a lecture by a Dr McAdam, 16 and saw some commonplace experiments about the dissolution of Gold by certain acids, and heard a certain quantity of talk about primary formations and metamorphic rocks, but nothing distinctive or peculiar about Ballarat which I wanted to hear. The room was crowded, and the lecturer well received, especially in those passages where he complimented the sagacity of the Ballarat Diggers, and promised them everlasting prosperity.

Next morning (Saturday) [27 December] at 6 o'clock, I started on my return to Geelong, greatly pleased with my trip to the Diggings. I intended to have returned direct to Melbourne, but the Coach was full, and I was obliged to go by way of Geelong. Over the same road, undergoing the same joltings, and arriving at one's destination in about the same time. The only variation being a race between our Coach and an opposition one, which frightened me out of my wits. Got to Geelong about half-past twelve, and a basin of Soup at a very moderate charge, and on board the steamer again for Melbourne where we landed about half-past five. Found Elizabeth all safe; hardly expecting my arrival seeing that the Coach direct from Ballarat had come in without me. Meantime the Governor 17 had arrived per Oneida. We had intelligence of this fact at Ballarat, per

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Electric Telegraph. Think of that! the electric telegraph to the Diggings. 18 I found at our Boarding House two additions to our party--arrivals by the Oneida--, Mr and Miss Weigall, the former a sculptor of eminence, 19 who has a Son here, and seems to have left England in disgust at the unpatronized state of the Arts and is meditating a permanent location of himself and his family in these Colonies, somewhere; but his views seem vague and unformed. He is evidently a man of talent, and has a good deal of amusing anecdote. His daughter is quiet and lady-like. So we do not quarrel with our addition.

On Monday, 29 December, according to engagement, came Mr Hawdon 20 in his Carriage to take us to Heidelberg, 21 where we were to spend a couple of days. The day threatening and disagreeable. Heidelberg is about 7 miles from Melbourne on the banks of the Yarra; a very pleasant English-like village with a neat Church and Mr Hawdon's House like the Squire's Mansion. 22 Mr Hawdon is one of the old Squatters, an Aristocrat. Moreover he is deeply enamoured of New Zealand and predicts all kinds of prosperity to Canterbury. 23 This sympathy is pleasant to hear, and it creates an affinity between us. He is just married a second time, to a young wife, a lively agreeable person, whom we are disposed to like. They are both very civil and kind. Their place has a good deal of capability; its great charm is that it is like England. The scenery round Heidelberg might be that of a hundred villages near London, but not the less pretty on that account. The House large, but wanting in some of the luxuries of an English Mansion. A party was invited to meet us at dinner, and to sleep, with the view of making a Picnic the next day to the Anderson's Creek Diggings. 24 This accordingly came off. A drive of about 8 miles took us to the place, through a very pretty country--open park-like scenery--the

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ground undulating, with distant peeps of high forest covered Hills. The road of course so-so, being in fact for the most part nothing but tracks among the trees, worn by vehicles of all kinds. The Diggings themselves are charmingly situated on the banks of the Yarra, which here is a moderate sized stream flowing between wooded banks. Booths, tents, and the beginnings of dwellings were scattered all about; with openings of the soil here and there, exactly the same as at Ballarat, only on a smaller scale. The one thing to be seen here different from Ballarat, was the opening of Quartz Reefs. A good many claims had been sunk, and a considerable quantity of stuff brought up, which was waiting for Machinery to crush. The machine was just being brought up. As yet, it seemed uncertain whether it would pay to work. We got a few specimens, some of them rich, and the Diggers seemed to be hopeful. These Quartz Reefs seem spread over the whole Country, and all are more or less auriferous. There are doubtless as yet undiscovered Gold-fields, as rich as any which have yet been worked; and Victoria will be subject to continual Ague-fits, alternatively hot and cold. There seemed at Anderson's Creek to be the beginnings of settlement. A notice posted on a tree, announced that Divine Service would be held at the School-house--some tent no doubt, but which will probably grow into a solid building. There were Diggers trying the bed of the Yarra to see if it would yield sufficient deposit of Gold to make it worth while to work. They had found enough to induce them to divert the River bed, which they were about to do.

We ended as Picnics do, with a Table cloth spread under the shade of Gum Trees, close on the banks of the Stream and enjoyed Quail Pies and Champagne. Quail pies, let me note, are goodly things--infinitely better than Pigeon. The Quail here are plentiful, not so large as those in New Zealand, but capital eating. Our drive home was only the same road by which we came, reversed. Altogether it was a very successful and agreeable expedition; and we agreed that if such were the ordinary rule of life at the Diggings, it would have great temptations. We left Mr Hawdon's the next day (Wednesday 31st) very much impressed with the kindness and hospitality shown us by people on whom we have no sort of claim.

Found on our return an invitation to dinner from the Bishop for Friday, which we accepted. Only Mr and Mrs Sladen and ourselves--a very friendly agreeable day. The Bishop, and Mrs Perry exceedingly kind. Elizabeth cannot understand how it is that people should be so civil to us. A thunder storm in the evening, but we managed to get home safe and dry.

Saturday (3 January 1857). Dr Campbell came, in Mr Moore's Dog Cart, to take us to Mr Moore's house in the Country about five

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miles from Melbourne in quite a new direction. Mr Moore is one of the principal Merchants here, a sensible right-minded man, whom I like. 25 His wife, rather a pretty, and very lively, good little woman, with a great deal of good sense.