Three Men and a Church - a Trove Tuesday post



Bushfire season.  It's that time of the year again, when the combination of extreme summer temperatures and dry northerly winds create the potential for disaster.  Events of the past week along Victoria's Surf Coast remind us yet again of this ever-present danger.

Growing up in rural Victoria, the possibility of bushfire was always a concern during summer.  On such a day, a faint whiff of smoke in the air, or wisp of grey visible on the horizon was enough to create anxiety throughout the community.  The sound of the fire siren from the local CFA would galvanise everyone into action.

Parents and grandparents would recall devastating fires of years past.  My mother had a lifelong terror of fire after being caught in the Dandenongs during the 1939 bushfires, while staying with relatives there.  As a child in 1967, I remember being kept inside all day as ash fell from the sky and the sun was totally blacked out by smoke from the Hobart bushfires, 500 kilometres away across Bass Strait.

And so the cycle continues over the years.  Lives are changed forever, and labels such as "Ash Wednesday" and "Black Friday or Saturday" become part of our vocabulary.  The names of communities devastated by fires are not forgotten.  Some people, crushed and broken by loss, move on to start again elsewhere.  Others stoically stay on, determined to recreate what was lost and rebuild their communities.

One such community is the little town of Noojee in Gippsland, 110 kilometres east of Melbourne, in the foothills of Victoria's Great Dividing Range.   Noojee has been rebuilt twice after being destroyed by bushfire, on Black Sunday in February 1926, and again on Black Friday in January 1939.

Noojee 1939 - looking up Loch Valley Road

The little wooden church which had survived the 1926 fire was destroyed in the 1939 blaze.  The building had been a social hub in the community, but the cost of replacing it with a more durable structure seemed prohibitive. That was until a plan was made by some enterprising clergymen in the Anglican Diocese of Gippsland, one of whom was my father.

THREE MEN AND A CHURCH. (1939, October 17). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic. : 1848 - 1957), p. 7. Retrieved December 27, 2015, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article11249006

 

presumably Miss Clarke, Rev. Clarke
& Rev. Sutton outside the Diocesan caravan

 working on the new church

Noojee church under construction 1939
the concrete bricks were made by hand on-site

  Historical photos from Rev. Haughton Pilkington's album - family collection

 



St. Andrew's Anglican Church, Noojee c2013

"Noojee Anglican Church 001" by Mattinbgn (talk · contribs) - Own work. Licensed under CC BY 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Noojee_Anglican_Church_001.JPG#/media/File:Noojee_Anglican_Church_001.JPG

The Night of the Big Wind - 6th January 1839

The Night of the Big Wind occurred on 6 -7th January 1839.  It was a cyclonic storm of huge proportions which swept over Ireland lasting from 10pm on the 6th until 6am on the 7th.  Newspaper reports of the time give details and figures of damage.  It became one of those events by which we measure the passage of time, and many people have subsequently written about the event. 

We are fortunate to have a first-hand account of the Big Wind, written in her diary by my 3x great aunt Charlotte Keane.  Charlotte lived a privileged life as a member of the landed gentry class.  Her family home, Beech Park, near Ennis in county Clare is a ruin now, but would have been a grand home back in 1839.  Hugh Weir, in his book "The Houses of Clare", describes Beech Park as a 2-storey building of 3 bays, situated on 17 acres of tree-scattered parkland.

There is a picture of Beechpark in better times in the Clare Library Foto collection. 


Charlotte tells us of the fury and intensity of the Big Wind, as experienced by her from within the relative safety of her substantial home.  How much worse it must have been for the general population in their thatched stone cottages!

At the time this event occurred, Charlotte's father, Robert Keane, was an invalid and confined to bed. She describes his concern for those exposed to the storm at sea, and his fear that the house would lose its roof.  Robert Keane passed away 4 months after this, in May 1839.  Charlotte's brother, Giles, was an Army Colonel serving in India.  He died in 1867.

Here is Charlotte's account:

THE NIGHT OF THE BIG WIND

From the diary of Charlotte Keane

6^th January 1839

Sunday, wet day.  No reading after Mamma had prayers, settling news paper, an unprofitable and not happy Sabbath.  After tea, the rain we had all day ended in a high storm, and at 11 it blew indeed what the sailors call – a whole gale of wind, and at 12 a terrific storm which continued without 10 minutes cessation until 5 in the morning.  It would be useless to attempt description of that awful night outside doors.  But the roar of the wind in the chimney in the Parlour at 11 p.m, when Mamma left the room, frightened me so that I could not remain alone.  Robert, fortunately being in the house, every means was tried to keep the house safe, and while he and I were going from window to window, dear Pappa was sitting up in bed, and constantly praying aloud for the poor creatures on the sea.  Bob and I being the only two at home, we had enough to do that night, the huge mattress of the front room bed he put in the Lobby window, and settled Mary Duggan and Biddy supporting it with long sweeping-brushes, but snug enough, they sat on the stairs.  But no human being could be snug that night, that heard it, and felt it, as we did at Beech Park.

The bed stead of the middle room was put up to the window, and the feather bed pressing between it and the shutters, but the girls room was the point of fury, I might say the severest, being the south-west point, and from 12 until near 4 it blew against that side of the house.  So violent was the storm, and fast the slates flying through the yard, that Robert could not venture across the yard to call up John Conole who slept in the laundry, though he twice attempted to do so, and help would have been valuable.  Fortunately Joe Armatage made his way over from Coor for something to preserve Mr. Henry’s ricks of hay that was disappearing fast, and I told him to come up to Pappa, and when upstairs indeed we had little thought of telling him to go down again.  Pappa’s getting a fright by the blowing in of a window was now the chief thing to be apprehended, and guarded against.  And it so happened that an hour after our help came, the glass in the girl’s window was broke, and in burst the shutters, sending the battons through the room like pins.  Robert immediately broke open Jane’s press, emptied its contents on the bed, and putting it slanting towards the window, with the feather bed on top to make it heavy, left Joe leaning against it, and wonderful to say, if he attempted to take his weight off the press it was immediately pushed straight up with the immense storm coming through one broken pane.  What could we have done if he had not come in?  Pappa said several times if one of the windows were blown in, the roof of the house would come off like a plate.

Oh, it was a terrific night, how little I knew of the power of the air, or what a storm was until that 6^th of January.  At 4 o’clock it backed round to the north, and there blew for one hour with unabated violence, straw and hay were peeling in under the back door and carried up through the house.

But at quarter to 5 it began to subside, though still blowing as it did until 8 o’clock.  I went down at near 6 to prepare tea and coffee for the poor servants, and everyone, and lay on the small sofa by the parlour fire, --fatigued, and the one candle just out, when there came such a sudden gust and mournful wind through the room, that I became unhappy, and felt certain that at that moment some friend or friends were going into Eternity.  The clock struck 6 and the melancholy strike spoke to my heart.  I came up and Pappa made me lie on their bed, and pretend to sleep, but when I thought they were asleep, I stole away into my own room, and as Armatage could leave the window since 5 and was only at the fire, I said he might go away entirely and I went into my bed, -- It was just 7 o’clock, but I had not lain down ten minutes, when I suppose the opening of the back door caused such a rush of wind through the house, for such a gust passed through my room and barred-up windows as I thought would send press, bed and all about the room, and oh, the piercing wind that whistled through the keyhole, I jumped up greatly frightened and pulled the bell, begging of them to send the man back again to stay till clear day, and until I saw him sitting snug by the fire, I could not compose myself to sleep.

And then when we all got up at 10 the melancholy look the whole house had, everything out of its place, the staircase covered with straw, however it came there, all the windows blocked up in such a manner, and we left them so for another forty-eight hours.  John McGrath came out the next day and told us all the mischief done in Ennis, but happily it was not as much as might be expected.   The oldest inhabitants in the town of 70 and 90 years of age never remembered such a storm, lasting for six hours before it lessened in the slightest degree.  The old tree near Charley O’Connell’s house, Arthurs Row, was taken up from the roots, I suppose some hundred years old, and had stood out many and many a storm.  5 of the largest trees in Beech Park were torn up out of the ground.  But what I saw when Pappa and I went to Buncraggy a day or two after surprised me most.  Mr Jones took us into the garden and along one side of the grass walk were 5 trees torn up by the roots, and all lying the same way, one after another, as if the same terrific blast laid everything before it that moment dead, and the two apple trees near each other also in another part of the garden torn up.  The appearance these 5 trees had -- lying so straight – almost like dead men on a field of battle, they said before a cannon shot.

Until that night I never thought a storm on land was to be dreaded, when in a well-built strong house, and that Beech Park is, but the situation that night was worse than any town house, being built on rather high ground, and so little shelter from the trees in the west.  It was a night to be remembered, in which was seen the weakness of man, and man’s power, when the Lord himself chooses to speak and to act.

And now I will tell how they felt it in Dublin.  Maria was on a visit with Mrs. Griffin in Baggot street, at 11 o’clock finding the storm so high they determined to remain up.  After some hours they brought down the feather beds to the drawing room, and settled themselves to rest as well as they could, while the wind howled through the streets, and the slates were flying in every direction.  Maria fell fast asleep, and in her sleep dreamed the Bishop of (? ) came to her bedside, and told her her brother Giles was at sea in that dreadful storm.

Ruins of Beech Park 2014

Christmas 1918

1918 marked 20 years since Fred and Dan Pilkington had ridden down to this southern-most part of the country to take up the old Sandy Point run.  The intervening years had seen them joined firstly by their cousin Charlie Griffin, and later by another brother, my grandfather Charlie Pilkington.  The four men had all married, and were raising their young families.  On Christmas Day in 1918, there would have been 12 children, ranging from my father Haughton, the eldest at 10 years, down to baby Keane, just a few months old.

Sandy Point at that time was a small farming settlement, still quite isolated from the rest of the world.  The little community was self-sufficient, relying on each other not only for assistance with the day to day work of the farms, but also for company and entertainment. 

The Commonwealth Tree, so-named for the six main branches, representing the six states making up the new Commonwealth of Australia, was a big old tree, and a gathering place for the families to meet.  The tree is long gone, and holiday homes now occupy the area where it once spread its branches.  What species is was has been forgotten with the passage of time - none of those who celebrated Christmas under its canopy in 1918 remain to enlighten us.  It was possibly a large banksia (Banksia Integrifolia, or Coast Banksia), that being the dominant variety growing between the dunes and the farming flats.  Or a Manna Gum, providing habitat for the koala.  But it could just have easily been a She-oak, or even an introduced Cyprus.

Christmas Day would have been a rare day off from the duties and chores of farming life.  A time to get together and celebrate, enjoying the company of the extended family and the freedom of the bush.  While the children played, and the women busied themselves with the Christmas picnic fare, I imagine the men sat there with their pipes and discussed the state of the world.  World War 1, which had raged for the previous four years, was finally over.  Events in their native Ireland were still unsettled, following the general election of that year, which saw Sinn Fein claim victory.  This was a key point in the Irish struggle for independence, and I'm sure would have been of great interest to these four expatriot Irishmen.
 
Great Uncle Fred immortalised this Christmas Day for us in his poem about the Commonwealth Tree.  It evokes vivid images of the occasion and provides a glimpse of the simpler life led by our forebears.  What they didn't grow or make for themselves, they just didn't have.  And yet, Fred's poem tells us they still had Christmas with all the trimmings - decorated the old tree, appearance by Santa, and presents all round for the children.

THE COMMONWEALTH TREE

Christmas 1918

At the Commonwealth Tree, the grand old tree.

All were happy as happy could be.

For it, you know, was Christmas Day,

In our own dear glade, by the deep blue bay.

Tea and cake there was galore

Sandwiches, and lashings more.

Each household had its Christmas joint

God bless the wives of Sandy Point.

 

To the Commonwealth Tree, the grand old tree,

Came Rose and Dan to join the spree.

“She-oaks” too, and “Ennisvale”

With “Gyndahnook” had struck the trail.

Within the glade the air was balm,

Beyond, the deep was glassy calm

So all the clan had gathered round,

And mustered at the picnic ground.

 

At the Commonwealth Tree, the grand old tree,

The kiddies were happy as kiddies should be.

In feasting and fun there was never a pause

Til popped on the scene was old Santa Claus.

Then all the children gathered round

A real tree, right in the ground,

And Santa radiant by its side

As groom before his blushing bride.

From trunk to top-most limb was spread

With gorgeous toys and streamers red.

And Nance and Maize, with nut brown hair

With Ede and little Vidie are there.

Haughton, Ib and curly Peggy

Richard Nash and dimpled Teddy,

Tom and Jacky, sturdy boys,

Eager all to grasp their toys.

Honest eyes of brown and blue,

Flashing glances, straight and true,

Coyly seen beneath their lashes,

Waists so gaily swathed in sashes,

Ribboned hair and stockinged feet,

buckled shoes and tunic neat.

Happy children, fair and free,

As winds that rocked their Christmas tree.

 

At the Commonwealth Tree, the grand old tree,

Many, many happy gatherings be.

Should boys and girls in virtue grow,

Will good old Santa come and go.

Seek virtue, not the world’s renown

And forward press to win the Crown,

For time, all earthly ties will sever,

This Crown with thee will last for ever.

God Save the King and Santa Claus

Was sung, for worthy was the cause

Responsive to the clamour made

The echoes rang then through the glade.

Then a jackass overhead

In a joyous outburst said

Bushland babies all goodnight

Sweet be your sleep til morning light.

 

F. W. Pilkington

Sandy Point

Christmas 1918

 

 

 

So, as I finish my preparations for Christmas 2014, and look forward to spending another summer holiday at Sandy Point, with family immediate and extended, I look back and think both how much life has changed, and how much it hasn't.  No matter how busy our lives get, or how far away we are, the joy of Christmas celebrations and the connection with family remain constant. 

 

 

 



 

Heroes of World War 1

As we celebrate Remembrance Day in this, the 100th year since the start of World War 1, I wanted to spare a thought for those members of our extended family who paid the ultimate sacrifice in that conflict.
My paternal grandfather served in the Boer War (1899-1902) and my father in the 2nd World War (1939-1945), while my maternal grandfather was too young for WW1, so the 1st World War was 'between generations' for my immediate family line.
However, there were numerous relatives on both sides of my family who did serve, and some of them paid with their lives.

Charles Richard Griffin VANCE, my father's 2nd cousin.
Born 2 December 1893 in Limerick, Ireland.  He was the youngest of 8 children of Canon Joseph Vance and Anna Mary Griffin.  His mother died when he was just 2 years old, and he was brought up by his aunt Amy Griffin, who moved into the Vance family home to take over the care of her nephews & nieces.  He was known to the extended family as "Dickie". 
Dickie attended school at Campbell College in Belfast.  After completing school, he commenced an apprenticeship in February 1912 with UK Railways in London, initially on a 1 month trial.  He is listed as a student of the Institute of Civil Engineers in 1914.
With the outbreak of WW1, Dick enlisted and was a 2nd Lieutenant with the 3rd Battalion of the Cheshire Regiment.  He was attached to 1st Battalion from December 1914.  He was killed in action in Belgium on 9 March 1915.  His grave is D 25, Ramparts Cemetery, Lille Gate, Belgium
The UK Railways books record his final payment of 24 shillings on 17 March 1915.  Listed as Killed in Action, his period of employment was 3 years 1 month, and his character and abilities noted as 'Good'.

His older brother, Robert Lancelot Vance, served as 2nd Lieutenant in the Royal Irish Fusiliers, transferring to the Indian Army at the completion of the war.

Henry Colpoys GLOSTER, my grandfather's 2nd cousin.
Born September 1894 in Kensington, London, he was the only son of Dr. James Cockburn Gloster and Aphra Keane, and grandson of Henry Keane of county Clare.  Educated at St Paul's School, and Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge, he was studying medicine when the war broke out.
He received a commission in the 6th Gordon Highlanders Regiment and after initial training, went to the front in November 1914.  He was killed in action at Neuve Chapelle in France on 12 March 1915.  His death is memorialised at Le Touret Memorial, Nord-Pas-de-Calais, France.

Otho Charles WARD, a double 2nd cousin of my grandfather.  Born in Dublin on 17 February 1884, he was the 2nd son of  Major Espine C R Ward, R.A.M.C and Jane Maria Colpoys Keane.  His parents were 2nd cousins.  Otho was educated at Epsom College in England, following which in January 1903, he enlisted in the Indian Army, in 124th Duchess of Connaught's Baluchistan Regiment.  He attained the rank of Captain in 1912.  When war broke out, his regiment was posted to Mesopotamia where he saw active service until he was killed in action against the Turks in the 2nd Battle of Kut, on 11 January 1917.  His grave is in the Amara War Cemetery, Iraq.

Thomas Lionel PILKINGTON, my father's 1st cousin, was born in Ennis in 1896, 2nd child and eldest son to Thomas Henry Pilkington and his wife Florence Greene. After completing school, he went to Sandhurst Royal Military College in August 1915, and was posted to the Royal Irish Regiment in January 1916.  In July of that year, he was sent to France to join the 2nd Battalion Royal Irish Regiment at the Somme. Thomas was wounded and evacuated twice during the next 2 years.  At the end of the war, he volunteered for transfer to the Indian Army and was posted to the 2nd Battalion 128th Bombay Pioneers.  He continued as a career soldier in the Indian Army until invalided out in 1943 due to failing sight as a result of retinitis contracted while serving in Constantinople in 1921.

Cecil John Mahon TWEEDY, a 3rd cousin of my grandfather, but also related by the marriage of my great-aunt to his uncle.  The following comes from the Our Heroes website. 
"He was the elder son of Mr. Thomas Tweedy, County Inspector, Royal Irish Constabulary, Bandon. He entered Trinity College, Dublin, in October, 1911. On the 26th August, 1914, he received a commission in the Royal Munster Fusiliers from the D.U.O.T.C., and was later transferred to the Special Reserve R.D.F. He was a well known boxer. In 1912 he won the Heavy-weight Championship of the University, and was never afterwards dispossessed of the title. In 1915 he won the Irish Command Officers' Heavy-weight Championship. He was a nephew of General Sir Bryan Mahon, Commander-in-Chief of the Forces in Ireland."
Cecil Tweedy died in France on 28 February 1917, and is buried at Sailly-Saillisel, Departement de la Somme, Picardie, France.

The first four men mentioned above were all descendants of Robert Keane of Beechpark, co Clare.  Cecil Tweedy was also a Keane cousin, but the connection was through the maternal line.
The following three men were cousins on the Haughton side of my fathers family.

William Haughton SMYTH, son of John Smyth and Anna Florence Haughton, of Milltown House, Banbridge, Co. Down. The Smyth family were Ulster linen merchants.  He was born in 1879, and served as Captain in the Royal Irish Rifles. He was killed in action on 1 July 1916, at Thiepval in the Somme, France.  His death is memorialised at Thiepval Memorial.

Beresford Haughton VYVYAN, born about 1893 in Glamorgan, Wales, the 2nd son of Hugh Norris Vyvyan and Constance Ethel Haughton.  He served as Captain in the Royal Field Artillery, and died of wounds received in Flanders, on 18 August 1917.  He is buried in the Dozinghem Military Cemetery, Poperinge, West Flanders (West-Vlaanderen), Belgium.

Charles Stanley HAUGHTON,  born in Dublin, Ireland, on 20 October 1873.  He was the only son of Alfred John Haughton and Beresford Stronge.  He attended the Birkenhead School in Cheshire, England, where he had some cadet training. According to his biography in "Memories of Old Birkonians 1914-1918" published by the Birkenhead School, he was a cotton broker in Liverpool when the war broke out.  He then joined a reservist unit, the Rifle Brigade, and was sent to India.  These units were used to take over administrative duties in order to release regular soldiers for active service.  During the 3 years he spent in India, he contracted Tuberculosis, from which he died in hospital in London on 4 February 1919, shortly after returning from India.  He is buried in a Commonwealth War Grave at Flaybrick Hill Cemetery, Birkenhead, Cheshire, England.

Back in Australia, members of my mother's extended family also gave their lives for the Empire, in the Australian Imperial Forces.  These three men are all descendants of William & Louisa Humphries, whom I wrote about in my blogpost - the "Enterprize" Voyage - last month.

William Humphries GRADY, born 1895 in Romsey, Victoria, was a son of Andrew Grady and Agnes Elizabeth Humphries.  When he enlisted as a private in the 22nd Infantry Battalion, on 5 February 1916 at age 21, he gave his occupation as farmer.  He sailed from Australia on the troopship 'Shropshire' in September 1916, but unfortunately was never to return.  William was killed in action in Flanders on 4 October 1917, and is buried in the Oxford Road Cemetery (Plot II, Row H, Grave No. 15), Ypres, Belgium.

Leonard James POSTLETHWAITE, born 1897 in Healesville, Victoria.  He was the son of Arthur Postlethwaite and Ann Chandler.  At age 19, he enlisted as a private in the 23rd Infantry Battalion on 5 April 1916.  He sailed from Australia on the troopship 'Miltiades' in August 1916.  His death in action on 3 May 1917 is memorialised in the Australian National Memorial, Villers-Bretonneux, France.

Mark SMITH, born 1896 in Healesville, Victoria, was the son of John Smith and Agnes Postlethwaite.  At the time he enlisted on 27 March 1916, the family were living in Western Australia. He joined the 51st Infantry Battalion as a private, and left Australia in August 1916 on the same ship as his 1st cousin Leonard Postlethwaite, the troopship 'Miltiades'.  He was killed in action on 25 April 1918 and is memorialised in the Australian National Memorial, Villers-Bretonneux, France.

On my husband's side, his grandfather returned from the war, but died a comparatively young man from complications associated with illness acquired during his service.

James Joshua PERRY, born Jugiong, New South Wales on Christmas Day 1889.  He was the fourth of six children born to James Perry and Catherine Gavin of Jugiong.  Prior to the war, James Jnr had been working as a sailor on the Pacific trading route.  He enlisted 6 October 1914 as a driver in Field Artillery Brigade 2, and left Australia in December that year on the ship 'Borda'.  His first service was in the Middle East, before going on to the Western Front.  James returned to Australia on 28 October 1918, but his health was never good, and he died in 1934 leaving a young family.
Brother, John Patrick PERRY and sister, Eleanor Anne PERRY also served on the Western Front.

James Joshua Perry

The Vincent family also contributed a high price in young lives to World War 1.  The large extended family from the Wangaratta area of Victoria saw many of their young men off to war, and unfortunately not all of them returned.

Arthur James VINCENT, born 1879 in Wangaratta, one of 17 children born to Reuben Brett Vincent & his wife Mary White.  Arthur had previously served in the Anglo-Boer War before re-enlisting for World War 1 in 1916.  He attained the rank of Corporal in the 37th Battalion, serving on the Western Front.  He was killed in action 8 June 1917 at Messines, Belgium.  There is no known grave for Arthur, but he is memorialised on The Ypres (Menin Gate) Memorial (Panel 25), Belgium.  His brother, George White VINCENT, also served, returning to Australia in 1918.

William Dale VINCENT, born 1879 in Wangaratta, Victoria, was a 1st cousin of Arthur & George (above).  He was one of 12 children born to Rowland Vincent & his wife Philadelphia Dale.  William was a timber worker when he enlisted in 1916 at the age of 36.  He joined the 3rd Pioneer Battalion and left Australia in June 1916, but became ill en route to the front.  He died of disease in the Isolation Hospital, Durban, South Africa on 22 July 1916 and is buried at the Ordnance Road Military Cemetery (Row C, Grave No. 8), Durban, South Africa.

Roy Curtis KENNEDY, born 1895 in Oxley, Victoria, was a Vincent cousin.  He was the son of James Kennedy & Emily Mary Vincent.  In February 1916, at 20 years of age, he left the family farm and enlisted in the 8th Battalion, leaving Australia in April the same year.  He was killed in action on the Western Front on 4 October 1917.  There is no known grave for Roy, but he is memorialised on The Ypres (Menin Gate) Memorial (Panel 7), Belgium.

George Ernest Vincent WOODBERRY, born Wangaratta 1891, son of Alice Marion Vincent and George Woodberry. Enlisted in 37th Battalion with his cousin Arthur Vincent. George developed TB and was sent back to Australia in 1917. He died in 1922.

Other Vincent cousins of the above who served overseas were half-brothers Hubert Claude & Victor Valentine VINCENT.  Their father was Jacob Arthur Vincent and their mothers' Sarah White and Edith Rose Payne respectively.
Leslie Moore VINCENT, known as 'Leddie', son of George Vincent and Elizabeth White, was born in 1881.  He saw active service in Anglo-Boer War and both World Wars.  He later became Mayor of Wangaratta.
Louis Adrian VINCENT was a nephew of William Dale Vincent (above).  He was born in Wangaratta in 1894.
Percy Victor Bristow VINCENT, born Wangaratta in 1892, son of Walter Reuben Vincent & Harriet Annie Dive.  He was a nephew of Arthur James & George White Vincent. 
Ernest Vincent WHITE, born Wangaratta 1893, son of Marion Vincent & Samuel White. He enlisted in the 8th Infantry Brigade Train.
William Henry DOBBIE, born Wangaratta 1897, son of Rowena Vincent & Harold Dobbie. He served with the 8th Battalion, 13th reinforcements in France.



LEST WE FORGET

Irish family ghosts

The first face-to-face encounter I had with Halloween was back in the mid-1980's, when 2 young boys came knocking on our front door after dark, with the words "Trick or Treat?"  My husband, who, despite his Irish heritage, knew nothing at all of the tradition, politely replied "no thank you" and closed the door.  Whereupon the little brats smashed our letterbox as they departed!

Growing up in Australia in the 1960's & 70's, Halloween was not something that was celebrated or even much acknowledged.  Our attention at that time of the year was focused on Guy Fawkes Night - November 5th. 
To us, Halloween was an American tradition, and as it began to catch on in Australia when my own children were young, I resisted it fiercely as yet another over the top Americanization of our culture.

It wasn't until 2007, when I visited Ireland and spent the month of October there, that I really became aware of and understood the origins of the Celtic tradition of Samhain, now celebrated as Halloween.  Samhain being the ancient festival which celebrated the end of the harvest and was the time when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead was at its thinnest.  Halloween, or Hallowe'en, meaning the eve of Hallows, is the day before All Hallows Day or All Saints Day, which is a Christian festival celebrating the lives of all the Saints.  The interpretation of this varies between Christian denominations.  In its efforts to convert the population, the early Christian church found it easier to appropriate the existing celebrations and assign a new Christian meaning to them, rather than attempting to stamp out centuries-old traditions.

So this year, following another visit to Ireland, Halloween has prompted me to write about the ghosts uncovered in my Irish family...... and there are a few!

The first is my 6x great grandfather, Robert Kean or O'Cahane, known as Robin of Ross (c1675-1756).  Thomas Johnson Westropp (1860-1922) wrote in "A Folklore Survey of County Clare", about the spectre of a dog which haunted the road between Carrigaholt and Ross in the west of county Clare.  It was believed to be the spirit of Robin of Ross.  Why he would have taken that form and come back to haunt the area is not explained.  Perhaps because he converted to the Protestant religion and was therefore able to keep his lands.

Robin of Ross's 2x great granddaughter, and my 3x great aunt, Charlotte Hickman Keane (c1812-1893) writes in her diary in 1831 about the family's visit to Carrigaholt, where they would stay at Rahona Lodge.  On this visit in July of 1831, Charlotte writes that she has been given "the little back room inside the drawing room", known as the Dark Room by the servants, for the strange noises they heard coming out of it.  Charlotte reports that no ghost intruded on her, but she envied "the happy little ghost who was able to visit that darling little dark room whenever it liked."  It would be interesting to know if the current owners of Rahona Lodge have encountered that ghost of 180 years ago!

Charlotte's older brother Robert Keane, who became the owner of Rahona Lodge after the death of his father, died at his home in Dublin in December 1873.  His grand-daughter, my great-aunt Molly wrote down her mother's reminiscences of her father's life.  She records that on the evening before Robert Keane died, his daughter Annie "wept herself to sleep on a cushioned window seat in a room at the back of the house.  She awoke to find the room dark and the impression that something had awakened her.  Yes, there it was, a wild cry coming from the swamp land behind the house, and there she saw distinctly the form of a woman kneeling, with dark hair floating out behind her, and as she cried she wrung her hands.  Again and again the wild wailing cry came.  Then she disappeared, and Mother immediately thought - oh the Banshee is wailing for Father."

The banshee or bean-sidhe, is reported to mark the passing only of people whose names begin with 'O' or 'Mac'.   The original spelling of the name Keane was O'Cahane, or in Irish, ó Catháin.

The banshee made another appearance for the Keane family, when Charlotte's older sister, Jane Rutherford died in Dublin on 14 April 1875.  Her death was not unexpected, and her niece Amy Griffin writes of it in her 1875 diary.  Amy at the time is away from her Dublin home, and staying in Ennis with her Keane and Pilkington cousins.  She writes of the Keane family at Beechpark receiving a telegram advising them that "Aunt Jane" had passed away at 1 o'clock.  Amy tells how "Aunt Louey" (Louisa, wife of Marcus Keane) reported wakening that morning in expectation of hearing that Jane had died, because she had heard the banshee wailing under her window at midnight.  She described it as a strange sound which seemed to come from the air.  When she heard the same sound that day at midday, she was told the banshee would not be heard during the day unless it was at the hour of death.  The telegram confirmed the time of Jane's death as 1 o'clock.

Amy Griffin, my grandfather's 1st cousin, married at age 28 to the much older, 73 year old widower Dr. John Griffin of Kilkee.  Three years later, he died and she became a widow herself.  Amy's niece Dorothy Griffin has left some notes which record that Dr. Griffin had something wrong with a leg and consequently walked with a limp.  Dorothy reports that after his death, he was supposed to haunt The Baths, a lodge he had owned.  She writes that guests at the Baths often reported hearing someone with a lame leg thumping around the house at night.  She states that she stayed there in 1938 with her young daughter and a nurse - "the nurse heard him, and she hadn't been told about Dr. Griffin or his leg, so couldn't have imagined it."

So there are the ghosts of my Irish family!  or at least those who have been recorded.  If nothing else, they make great tales to pass on.

The "Enterprize" voyage

Saturday 4th October was a beautiful spring day in Melbourne, bright sunshine and a light northerly breeze, just perfect for a day spent sailing on our fabulous Port Phillip Bay.  Some months ago, my cousin Brendon Gardner had sent out the message to family members far & wide, announcing that he had booked the tall ship "Enterprize" for a day-sail in October.  Something I had been thinking about for years, but never got around to doing anything about!
So this was that day.  45 people spanning 4 generations, descendants of William & Louisa (Arpin) Humphries, met at North Wharf, Docklands, eagerly anticipating a day spent re-acquainting with each other, and celebrating the past journeys of William and Louisa.



Enterprize

One hundred and seventy-seven years ago last month, my 3x great grandmother Louisa Jane Arpin, made a 2nd big move in her life.  After 5 years in the colony of Van Diemen's Land, she packed up her small daughters Amy & Anne and set sail across Bass Strait from Launceston in John Pascoe Fawkner's schooner "Enterprize", bound for the fledgling township of Melbourne to join her husband William Humphries. 

Louisa Jane Arpin had arrived in Hobart as an assisted free settler on board the ship "Princess Royal".  This was the first ship bringing out single women to address the matrimonial requirements of the new colony. The arrival of the "Princess Royal" was greeted with much controversy, both for the character and suitability of the women she carried, and the nature of her arrival - the captain having mistaken the entrance to the Derwent River in a storm and consequently running the ship aground.  In her own recollections, published in The Argus newspaper of 25th May 1905, (see below) Louisa tells how they were promised work at 8 - 10 shillings, but that there were not enough positions available for all of them.  Louisa probably came from a London workhouse, but how she came to be there is not known.  She was born 6 November 1813, daughter of Thomas & Lucy Arpin of Bunhill Row, London.  According to the baptism register, her father Thomas was a victualler.

Louisa Jane Humphries nee Arpin
1813 - 1912

Louisa married William Humphries in Hobart sometime after her arrival, the exact date is not known as records have not survived.  William was possibly, maybe even probably, a convict.  Convicted of larceny in Shropshire in July 1818 and sentenced to 7 years transportation, the convict William Humphries arrived in Van Diemen's Land in the ship "Dromedary" in 1820. There is no definite documentary evidence which connects convict William and 'our' William, but his similar age and place of origin - Shropshire - make it a distinct possibility.  The name William Humphries/Humphreys was a very common one in Shropshire, and there were several other convicts of the same name.  Unfortunately, the passenger lists for free settlers arriving in VDL in the very early years have not survived, so it is impossible to say if there may have been a free settler of the same name.  While it is now considered something to be proud of, in past times people went to great lengths to hide their convict background, so it is unlikely that we will ever know for sure if our William was a convict or not.

Following their marriage, William & Louisa moved to Launceston, where babies Amy and Anne Victoria arrived in 1834 and 1836.  William was, according to Louisa's recollections, a master brickmaker.  The convict William was listed as a labourer, but brickmaking could very well have been a skill he learned during his period of imprisonment.  It would have been a trade in high demand in the developing colony. 

The Enterprize was a 2-masted topsail schooner built in Hobart, VDL in 1830.  After a few years as a coastal trader, the ship was purchased by John Pascoe Fawkner.  In 1835, he made his first venture to seek out a place for a settlement across Bass Strait in what would later become Melbourne. Fawkner himself did not make the first voyage, being unexpectedly detained in Launceston, but he had selected a small group of skilled tradesmen, and had wanted William, a master brickmaker, to accompany them.  Louisa, however, had other ideas.  She did not want her husband going to "that wild place", although I can't imagine that Launceston of the 1830's would have been much less wild.

But Louisa must have had a change of heart, or perhaps the inducements offered by Fawkner proved too much to resist, for in mid 1837, William set sail on the Enterprize for the settlement on the Yarra river.  Louisa and the girls followed him a couple of months later.  Their first home was a small hut in Little Collins Street, before they moved out to Batman's Swamp where William had his brickworks.  This is the site of the Spencer Street railyards today.  In 1850, following a flood which washed them out, William was granted a couple of acres at Flemington.  Another 10 children were born to the couple during this period. Later they acquired land at Bolinda to the north of Melbourne, and this is where they lived out their lives.  William passed away in 1882, aged about 86, and Louisa lived to the grand age of 98, dying in 1912.

 

EARLY VICTORIA.    
A PIONEER'S STORY.
By GOULBURNIAN.  
A pioneer who witnessed almost the beginning of Victorian settlement is Mrs. Louisa Humphries, of Bolinda, near Romsey. Mrs Humphries is probably the oldest woman in Victoria. She was born in London in 1813, and is consequently in her ninety-second year. She is still active and strong, has a wonderful memory, and a fund of anecdotes about early Melbourne, which was a little bush village just two years old when she first knew it.  
"I came out to Van Diemen's Land," she said, in a recent chat, "in 1832, in the Princess Royal, the first emigrant ship which arrived there. There had been frequent requests for free domestic servants, and our ship brought out nearly a couple of hundred girls. We had been promised   positions at 8/ to 10/ per week, which was regarded as good wages in those days. We soon found that there were too many of us, and it was extremely difficult to get good places.  
"A year after I arrived I married, and we went to live at Launceston. There my husband worked occasionally for John Pascoe Fawkner, who was a neighbour. When Fawkner came over to Port Phillip, in 1835, he wanted my husband to engage with him, but I objected to his going to such a wild country. After Batman and Fawkner settled at Port Phillip, all the talk in Launceston was of the new country, and, work being slack, my husband, who was an expert brickmaker, engaged with Fawkner, and left about the middle of 1837, promising to send for me in a month. But the schooner was five or six weeks beating about the Straits before they were able to enter the Heads. I was sent for at last, and arrived in the Yarra in the Enterprise (Fawkner's schooner) on September 14, 1837. Mr Wedge, I remember, brought over four horses in the schooner and there were two other passengers, brothers, named Birch. It was on a Saturday evening when the Enterprise was tied up to a tree on the river bank, and Mr. Humphries took me and our two children through the bush to a little wattle and daub hut, which stood in what is now Little Collins-street,   between Elizabeth and Swanston streets. My husband and a mate were brickmaking close by.
"On Sunday morning Mr. Humphries had to go up Batman's Hill to Fawkner's for rations, and I was scared by the arrival of a number of blacks, who begged 'white lubra giv' it bread'. There was another hut a short distance away, and the woman sent her husband over to tell me not to be afraid of the natives. We lived in that hut from September, 1837, to July, 1839, when we moved out to what was then called Batman's Swamp, where the Spencer- street railway yards now are.
"Melbourne during that period was a scattered village in the bush, without streets, and with few houses, mostly huts. Henry Batman (John Batman's brother) was chief constable, and Buckley was also a policeman, and a dull, stupid fellow he was. Where Elizabeth-street is now was a gully, through which a creek, often dry, but sometimes quite a torrent, ran. The first schoolhouse was erected where St. James's Church now stands. Miss Osborne was the first teacher, and after her, Mrs. Dutton. It was built of sawn timber, cut in a saw- pit in what is now Elizabeth-street. I well remember John Batman's funeral in 1839.   He was buried in what is now the old cemetery, adjoining the Victoria Market. Then it was neither cleared nor fenced— just a few graves in the bush. Another woman and I started out to look for them but without success. As we were returning we met the funeral. Poor John Batman was an invalid for some time before his death, and used to be wheeled about in a chair. He left a family of eight daughters and a young son, who was afterwards drowned in the Yarra. His brother Henry died in October of the same year (1839).  
In confirmation of Mrs. Humphries excellent memory it may be noted that the inscription on Batman's tombstone in the old cemetery is as follows :—
JOHN BATMAN,
Bom at Parramatta, New South Wales, 1800.
Died at Melbourne, May 8, 1839.
He entered Port Phillip Heads, May 29, 1835, as leader of an expedition which he had organised in Launceston V.D.L., to form a settlement, and founded one on the site of Melbourne, then unoccupied.
This monument was erected by public subscription in Victoria, 1881.
Continuing, Mrs Humphries said:— "The   first watch-house, the gaol, such as it was and the stocks were somewhere near here the Western Market now is. The gaol was a tea-tree shanty, which was burned down by some blacks who were imprisoned for stealing potatoes from a settler named Langhorne. The natives, who escaped, told how they fired it by rubbing two sticks together. The policemen used to call the hours during the night watch, and it was a standing joke afterwards to call out to   them, '2 o'clock, and all's well, and the gaol's burnt.' I had never seen stocks before, and I was curious to know what the men were doing who were sitting on a bench with their legs stretched out through the frame day after day. My husband laughed at my stupidity.
"After moving out to Batman's Swamp like many of the other neighbours, we kept a couple of cows, and I was summoned to court one day for allowing them to wander through the streets of the village. The
courthouse — the only one I was ever in as an offender — was a little wooden shanty, with a few rough boards laid on the ground for a floor. Mr. James Simpson was the magistrate. He asked me if I stood in my husband's shoes. I told him I stood in my own, and with a laugh he fined me £1. He was known to everybody as 'Jimmy' Simpson, and was very popular. Another well-known citizen was John M'Nall, who built the first butcher's shop in the settlement, in Collins-street, near the corner of
Swanston-street.  George Scarborough, quite a character, was the first poundkeeper, and the first pound was near the river bank, between Swanston and Russell streets. We went to the first races, held at Flemington in 1840, in Scarborough's bullock-dray. Coming home Scarborough was three sheets in the wind, and we came down Batman's Hill, through Collins street, at racing pace, Mrs. Scarborough and I, who were sitting on the bottom of the dray, being nearly tipped out when the bullocks rounded into Elizabeth- street."  
Referring to the early race meetings, Edmund Finn, in "Chronicles of Early Melbourne," says the first race meeting was held on March 6 and 7, 1838, on a race-course on Batman's Hill; the starting post was where the North Melbourne rail-way station now is, and the grand stand—a couple of bullock drays lashed together—was on the site now occupied by the Spencer-street station. The jumps for the Hunters' Plate were made of logs and gum branches, and the jockeys (gentlemen riders) rode in red or blue flannel shirts, cabbage-tree hats, and leather leggings. In 1839 the second race meeting was held on this course, but the following year it was moved to Flemington. John McNall, to whom Mrs. Humphries refers, was clerk of course in 1839.  
"In November or December, 1849," Mrs. Humphries continued, "a great flood occurred, and all Batman's Swamp was under water. Our house was flooded and the children and I were taken off in a boat. My husband's brickyards were destroyed, and we did not go back to live at the swamp, but moved out to Flemington, where we had a couple of acres of land."  
In the "Chronicles of Early Melbourne" this flood is described as a very severe one.   On the night of November 26, 1849, it rained with great fury, and on the 27th there was an immense flood in the Yarra, and the brickmakers were driven out from their holdings. Towards evening the river was almost as high is it had been known to be. The 'Western Swamp" was littered with furniture, wood, and dead animals. Two thousand five hundred sheep at Philpot's boiling-down works perished. The dead bodies of a woman and her child, clasped in her arms, were seen floating down the river.
"Provisions," Mrs. Humphries went on to say, "were often scarce, and dear in the early days of Melbourne. The settlement had to depend on Launceston and Sydney for its flour, and often bad weather would delay the trading schooners, and leave the place very short of food. Sometimes bread ran up to 1/ to 3/ a loaf.
When the diggings broke out, Mr. Humphries, like most of the men folk, went off  to make his fortune, but he was not very successful, and in 1858 he came up here (Bolinda), and obtained this farm (200 acres), and here I have resided for over 46 years. Twenty-two years ago I lost my husband, and last year my eldest son, who was over 70, died. I have seven children still living, 45 grandchildren, two of whom are living with me, and nearly as many great grandchildren. My memory has always been good. I can remember going, as a little girl, with my mother to St. John's Church, Bedford-road, London to hear the funeral service for George the Third in 1820. I was with her in the streets to witness the celebrations of the crowning of George the Fourth, and can distinctly recollect the  
public sympathy for Queen Caroline, whom he would not allow to be   crowned.  In 1830 I saw the celebrations when William the Fourth came to the throne, and in 1831, just before I left England, the public processions for Parliamentary reform. Just 67½ years ago I landed in Melbourne. It is nine years since I saw it last, but I hope to see it once again."
EARLY VICTORIA. (1905, March 25). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic. : 1848 - 1957), p. 4. Retrieved October 12, 2014, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article9875678 

As we motored down the Yarra, before hoisting the sails when we entered the Bay, the Captain related how the voyage up-river had taken ten days for the original Enterprize, relying on horses and rope-lines to haul her along. 

William and Louisa, along with the other adventurous early settlers of the 1830's, would never have imagined the city which grew from their efforts, shown to such advantage on this sunny Spring day.  Nor could they have imagined how many people today can claim descent from them, via their 72 children and grandchildren.


Melbourne skyline, October 2014