BALLARAT
Ballarat is situated about forty-five miles from Geelong, and
seventy-five nearly west of Melbourne. This was the first discovered
goldfield of any extent in Victoria, and was made known on the 8th of
September, 1851. The rush from Geelong was immense. Shops, stores,
trades, all and everything was deserted; and the press very truly
declared that "Geelong was mad--stark, staring gold-mad." During the
month of September five hundred and thirty-two licences were taken out;
in the month following the number increased to two thousand two hundred
and sixty one!
The usual road to Ballarat is by the Adelaide overland route on the
Gambier Road; but the most preferable is per Geelong. The former route
leads over the Keilor Plains, and through Bacchus Marsh, crossing the
Werribee River in two places. Mount Buninyong then appears in sight of
the well-pleased traveller, and Ballarat is soon reached.
The route VIA Geelong is much quicker, as part of the way is generally
performed by steam at the rate of one pound a-piece. Those who wish to
save their money go to Geelong by land. After leaving Flemington, and
passing the Benevolent Asylum, the Deep Creek is crossed by means of a
punt, and you then come to a dreary waste of land, called Iett's Flat.
Beyond is a steep rise and a barren plain, hardly fit to graze sheep
upon, and at about twenty miles from Melbourne you come to the first
halting house. Some narrow but rapid creeks must be got over, and for
seven miles further you wander along over a dreary sheep-run till
stopped by the Broken River, which derives its name partly from the
nature of its rocky bed, and partly from the native name which has a
similar sound.
This creek is the most steep, rapid, and dangerous on the road, having
no bridge and no properly defined crossing-place or ford, except the
natural rocks about. The bottom is of red sand-stone and rocks of the
same description abut from the sides of the creek, and appear to abound
in the neighbourhood; and all along the plains here and there are
large fragments of sand and lime-stone rocks. Two hundred yards from
the creek is a neat inn after the English style, with a large
sitting-room, a tap, a bar, and a coffee-room. The bed-rooms are so
arranged as to separate nobs from snobs--an arrangement rather
inconsistent in a democratic colony. The inn also affords good stabling
and high charges. Up to this distance on our road there is a scarcity
of wood and springs of water.
We now pass two or three huts, and for twenty miles see nothing to
please the eye, for it is a dead, flat sheep-walk. About seven miles on
the Melbourne side of Geelong, the country assumes a more cheering
appearance--homesteads, gardens, and farms spring up--the roads improve,
and the timber is plentiful and large, consisting of shea-oaks, wattle,
stringy bark, and peppermints. Many of the houses are of a good
size, and chiefly built of stone, some are of wood, and very few of
brick.
Geelong, which is divided into north and south, is bounded by the
Barwin, a river navigable from the bay to the town, and might be
extended further; beautiful valleys well wooded lie beyond. Between the
two townships a park has been reserved, though not yet enclosed; the
timber in it, which is large--consisting principally of white gum and
stringy bark--is not allowed to be cut or injured. There are several
good inns, a court-house, police-station, and corporation offices.
There is also a neat church in the early pointed style, with a
parsonage and schools in the Elizabethan; all are of dark lime-stone,
having a very gloomy appearance, the stones being unworked, except near
the windows; the porches alone slightly ornamented. The road and
pavement are good in the chief streets; there is a large square with a
conduit, which is supplied by an engine from the Barwin. The shops are
large and well furnished, a great many houses are three stories high,
most are two, and very few one. The best part of town is about one
hundred feet above the river. A large timber bridge over the
Ballarat road was washed down last winter. The town is governed by a
mayor and corporation. There is a city and mounted police force, and a
neat police-court. A large and good race-course is situated about
three miles from the town.
As regards scenery, Geelong is far superior to Melbourne, the streets
are better, and so is the society of the place; none of the ruffian
gangs and drunken mobs as seen in Victoria's chief city. There are
various, chapels, schools, markets, banks, and a small gaol. The
harbour is sheltered, but not safe for strangers, as the shoals are
numerous. Geelong is surrounded by little townships. Irish Town, Little
Scotland, and Little London are the principal and to show how
completely the diggings drained both towns and villages of their male
inhabitants, I need only mention that six days after the discovery of
Ballarat, there was only one man left in Little Scotland, and he was a
cripple, compelled NOLENS VOLENS to remain behind.
The road from Geelong to Ballarat is well marked out, so often has it
been trodden; and there are some good inns on the way-side for
the comfort of travellers. On horseback you can go from the town to the
diggings in six or eight hours.
Ballarat is a barren place, the ground is interspersed with rocky
fragments, the creek is small, and good water is rather scarce. In
summer it almost amounts to a drought, and what there is then is
generally brackish or stagnatic. It is necessary never to drink
stagnant water, or that found in holes, without boiling, unless there
are frogs in it, then the water is good; but the diggers usually boil
the water, and a drop of brandy, if they can get it. In passing through
the plains you are sure of finding water near the surface (or by
seeking a few inches) wherever the tea tree grows.
The chief object at the Ballarat diggings is the Commissioners' tent,
which includes the Post-office. There are good police quarters now. The
old lock-up was rather of the primitive order, being the stump of an
old tree, to which the the prisoners were attached by sundry chains,
the handcuff being round one wrist and through a link of the chain. I
believe there is a tent for their accommodation. There are
several doctors about, who, as usual, drive a rare trade.
It is almost impossible to describe accurately the geological features
of the gold diggings at Ballarat. Some of the surface-washing is good,
and sometimes it is only requisite to sink a few feet, perhaps only a
few inches, before finding the ochre-coloured earth (impregnated with
mica and mixed with quartzy fragments), which, when washed, pays
exceedingly well. But more frequently a deep shaft has to be sunk.
Of course the depth of the shafts varies considerably; some are sixty
or even eighty, and some are only ten feet deep. Sometimes after heavy
rains, when the surface soil has been washed from the sides of the
hills, the mica layer is similarly washed down to the valleys and lies
on the original surface-soil. This constitutes the true washing stuff
of the diggings. Often when a man has--to use a digger's
phrase--"bottomed his hole," (that is, cut through the rocky strata, and
arrived at the gold layer), he will find stray indications, but nothing
remunerative, and perchance the very next hole may be the most
profitable on the diggings. Whether there is any geological
rule to be guided by has yet to be proved, at present no old digger
will ever sink below the mica soil, or leave his hole until he arrives
at it, even if he sinks to forty feet. So, therefore, it may be taken
as a general rule, wherever the diggings may be, either in Victoria,
New South Wales, or South Australia, that gold in "working" quantities
lies only where there is found quartz or mica.
Ballarat has had the honour of producing the largest masses of gold yet
discovered. These masses were all excavated from one part of the diggings,
known as Canadian Gully, and were taken out of a bed of quartz, at the
depths of from fifty to sixty-five feet below the surface. The deep
indentures of the nuggets were filled with the quartz. The largest of
these masses weighed one hundred and thirty-four pounds, of which it
was calculated that fully one hundred and twenty-six pounds consisted
of solid gold!
About seven miles to the north of Ballarat, some new diggings called
the Eureka have been discovered, where it appears that, although there
are no immense prizes, there are few blanks, and every one doing well!
In describing the road from Melbourne to Geelong, I have made
mention of the Broken River. A few weeks after my arrival in the
colonies this river was the scene of a sad tragedy.
I give the tale, much in the same words as it was given to me, because
it was one out of many somewhat similar, and may serve to show the
state of morality in Melbourne.
The names of the parties are, of course, entirely fictitious.
* * * * *
Prettiest among the pretty girls that stood upon the deck as the anchor
of the Government immigrant ship 'Downshire' fell into Hobson's Bay, in
August, 1851, was Mary H----, the heroine of my story. No regret
mingled with the satisfaction that beamed from her large dark eyes, as
their gaze fell on the shores of her new country, for her orphan
brother, the only relative she had left in their own dear Emerald Isle,
was even then preparing to follow her. Nor could she feel sad and
lonely whilst the rich Irish brogue, from a subdued but manly and
well-loved voice, fell softly on her ear, and the gentle
pressure of her hand continually reminded her that she was not alone.
Shipboard is a rare place for match-making, and, somehow or another,
Henry Stephens had contrived to steal away the heart of the 'Downshire'
belle. Prudence, however, compelled our young people to postpone their
marriage, and whilst the good housewife qualities of the one readily
procured her a situation in a highly respectable family in Melbourne,
Henry obtained an appointment in the police force of the same town.
Their united savings soon mounted up, and in a few months the banns
were published, and Christmas-Day fixed on for the wedding. Mary, at
her lover's express desire, quitted her mistress's family to reside
with a widow, a distant relative of his own, from whose house she was
to be married. Delightful to the young people was this short period of
leisure and uninterrupted intercourse, for the gold mania was now
beginning to tell upon the excited imaginations of all, and Henry had
already thrown up his situation; and it was settled their wedding trip
should be to the golden gullies round Mount Buninyong.
And now let me hasten over this portion of my narrative. It is sad to
dwell upon the history of human frailty, or to relate the oft-told tale
of passion and villainy triumphant over virtue. A few days before
Christmas, when the marriage ceremony was to be performed, they
unfortunately spent one evening together alone, and he left her--ruined.
Repentance followed sin, and the intervening time was passed by Mary in
a state of the greatest mental anguish. With what trembling eagerness
did she now look forward to the day which should make her his lawful
wife.
It arrived. Mary and the friends of both stood beside the altar, whilst
he, who should have been there to redeem his pledge and save his victim
from open ruin and disgrace, was far away on the road to Ballarat.
To describe her agony would be impossible. Day after day, week after
week, and no tidings from him came; conscience too acutely accounting
to her for his faithlessness. Then the horrible truth forced itself
upon her, that its consequences would soon too plainly declare her sin
before the world; that upon her innocent offspring would fall a portion
of its mother's shame.
Thus six months stole sorrowfully away, and as yet none had even
conjectured the deep cause she had for misery. Her brother's
non-arrival was also an unceasing source of anxiety, and almost daily
might she have been seen at the Melbourne Post-office, each time to
return more disappointed than before. At length the oft-repeated
inquiry was answered in the affirmative, and eagerly she tore open the
long-anticipated letter. It told her of an unexpected sum of money that
had come into his hands--to them a small fortune--which had detained him
in Ireland. This was read and almost immediately forgotten, as she
learnt that he was arrived in Melbourne, and that only a few streets
now separated them.
She raised her face, flushed and radiant with joyful excitement--her
eyes fell upon him who had so cruelly injured her. The scream that
burst from her lips brought him involuntarily to her side. What will
not a woman forgive where once her heart has been touched--in the double
joy of the moment the past was almost forgotten--together they re-read
the welcome letter, and again he wooed her for his bride. She
consented, and he himself led her to her brother, confessed
their mutual fault, and second preparations for an immediate marriage
were hurriedly made.
Once more at the altar of St. Peter's stood the bridal party, and again
at the appointed hour Stephens was far gone on his second expedition to
the diggings, after having increased (if that was possible) his
previous villainy, by borrowing a large portion of the money before
mentioned from his intended brother-in-law. It was pretty evident that
the prospect of doing this had influenced him in his apparently
honourable desire to atone to the poor girl, who, completely prostrated
by this second blow, was laid on the bed of sickness.
For some weeks she continued thus and her own sufferings were increased
by he sight of her brother's fury, as, on her partial recovery, he
quitted her in search of her seducer.
During his absence Mary became a mother, and the little one that
nestled in her bosom, made her half forgetful of her sorrows, and at
times ready to embrace the delusive hope that some slight happiness in
life was in store for her. But her bitter cup was not yet drained. Day
by day, hour by hour, her little one pined away, until one
dreary night she held within her arms only its tiny corpse.
Not one sound of grief--not an outward sign to show how deeply the heart
was touched--escaped her. The busy neighbours left her for awhile, glad
though amazed at her wondrous calmness; when they returned to finish
their preparations for committing the child to its last resting-place,
the mother and her infant had disappeared.
Carrying the lifeless burden closely pressed against her bosom, as
though the pelting rain and chilling air could harm it now, Mary
rapidly left the town where she had experienced so much misery,
on--on--towards Geelong, the route her seducer and his pursuer had
taken--on--across Iett's Flat, until at length, weak and exhausted, she
sank down on the barren plains beyond.
Next morning the early dawn found her still plodding her weary way--her
only refreshment being a dry crust and some water obtained at an
halting-house on the road; and many a passer-by, attracted by the
wildness of her eyes, her eager manner, and disordered dress, cast
after her a curious wondering look. But she heeded them
not--on--on she pursued her course towards the Broken River.
Here she paused. The heavy winter rains had swollen the waters, which
swept along, dashing over the irregular pieces of rock that formed the
only means of crossing over. But danger was as nothing to her now--the
first few steps were taken--the rapid stream was rushing wildly round
her--a sensation, of giddiness and exhaustion made her limbs tremble--her
footing slipped on the wet and slimy stone--in another moment the
ruthless waters carried her away.
The morrow came, and the sun shone brightly upon the still swollen and
rapid river. Two men stood beside it, both too annoyed at this
impediment to their return to Melbourne to be in the slightest degree
aware of their proximity to one another. A bonnet caught by a
projecting fragment of rock simultaneously attracted their attention:
both moved towards the spot, and thus brought into closer contact they
recognized each other. Deadly foes though they were, not a word passed
between them, and silently they dragged the body of the unhappy
girl to land. In her cold and tightened grasp still lay the child. As
they stood gazing on those injured ones, within one breast remorse and
shame, in the other, hatred and revenge, were raging violently.
Each step on the road to Ballarat had increased her brother's desire
for vengeance, and still further was this heightened on discovering
that Stephens had already left the diggings to return to town. This
disappointment maddened him; his whole energy was flung into tracing
his foe, and in this he had succeeded so closely, that unknown to
either, both had slept beneath the same roof at the inn beside the
Broken River.
The voices of some of the loungers there, who were coming down to the
Creek to see what mischief had been done during the night, aroused him.
He glanced upon his enemy, who pale and trembling, stood gazing on the
wreck that he had made. Revenge at last was in his hands--not a moment
was to be lost--with the yell of a maniac he sprang upon the powerless
and conscious-stricken man--seized him in his arms rushed to the
river--and ere any could interpose, both had found a grave where but a
few minutes before the bodies of Mary and her infant had reposed.