Field Guide to Falling in Love in Tasmania

Currently showing posts tagged marriage

  • It Began Here with John and Jemima

    It Began Here with John and Jemima

    In Bodney, England, in 1828, William and Judith gave birth to their son John.

    In 1845 John himself got married, to a lovely lass named Jemima King. They were both still teenagers. He was a farm labourer.

    After John and Jemima had been married for a decade or so, they were approached by the Launceston Immigration Aid Society, and recruited to move to Tasmania. They arrived on the Southern Eagle in 1857, and relocated their lives to the coastal hamlet of Penguin. With them, they brought their infant daughter, Caroline. In 1860, they had a son, Charles.

    Upon arrival, John armed himself with an axe and a cross-cut saw, and with no capital, cleared the dense wet sclerophyll forest of scrub and trees. For the bigger trees, the method of ring-barking was used. As the land was cleared, he began to build a home. Floorboards were adzed; furniture was home-made; candles of tallow were made for artificial light, and they had a fishy reek when extinguished. It was hard work, and a life with few comforts.

    Flour shortages were common. It was delivered on occasion by sailing craft from north coast towns, but once as it was being put ashore, the boat overturned and spoiled the product. Normally a draught horse brought it in from Forth, through the labyrinthine forest. If the flour supplies ran short, what remained was shared among the whole community to the last pound. Housewives made the bread in camp ovens; bachelors made damper, cooked in ashes.

    The new settlers grew oats and potatoes. As soon as the cleared land had enough grass covering, a cow was purchased. Gradually berry bushes and fruit trees gave produce. Meat was mostly wallaby and parrots; those on the coast fished. When they needed something they couldn’t grow, and once the Leven River was bridged, the women would walk to a store at Forth, a few miles away.

    The daughter Caroline met a young man with the fine name of James Sushames, originally of Caston, England, who arrived to Tasmania on the Whirlwind. They got married and had a son.

    Charles fell in love too, with a girl named Rachel Ling. They had eight children and raised them in Penguin. Six were sons. As these children grew up, a flour mill was built at nearby Sulphur Creek. The first churches were built, and a teacher arrived, Miss Neligan. By the mid-1870s, there was a general store.

    The youngest of these eight children, Leslie, preferred to go by his middle name, which was Herbert. He was born in 1899. In his late teens, he got a job delivering bread and milk; he would go around town in a horse and dray. His son, Vivian, would remember being taken to school in this vehicle. Herbert played footy at the local club, for the Penguin Two-Blues. He was also a bass baritone singer and sung at the Methodist church sometimes.

    Herbert Spinks and family moved to Launceston for a job at a wool factory. Herbert’s son Vivian fought in World War II. Vivian’s son Martin matriculated and built a white collar career. Martin’s son is the author of this article. I went up to Penguin the other week. These days, there is little clearing left to be done; flour comes from the local supermarket, along with a variety of pre-prepared products made from it; the parrots are largely left uneaten, although they exist in much smaller quantities. Coffee drinkers can satisfy their urges at several cafeterias, and an afternoon beer is available at the Neptune Hotel.

    Once this was pretty coastal town was covered in dense bush. Now, there's a grubby backpackers' hostel on its main road. We do not well understand the hardships and labours of the people who came before us. “With a low standard of living, few amenities, and little security, to win a bare living they worked from daylight to dark,” wrote local historian A.O. Barker. “For little return they toiled and we are reaping – as future generations will reap – the profit of their toil.”

     
    There are more stories about Herbert Spinks and the Penguin Two-Blues here.

  • The Witness of Many Weddings

    The Witness of Many Weddings

    For four years, Lt.-Gov. Collins had upheld the prohibition of alcohol in Van Diemen’s Land, but in 1808 he accepted the inevitable. By this time, there were already a few public houses serving alcohol; the Sign of the Whale Fishery was the first pub to open in the colony, in July 1807. Soon after, Francis Barnes became the licensee of the Hope Inn.

    Francis was a rare case in the penal colony. A literate and worldly man, he was sent to Van Diemen’s Land on the Calcutta for the theft of £172 during a play at the Drury Lane Theatre. He claimed that he found the banknotes, but his story wasn’t convincing; he arrived with the first settlers of Hobart Town in 1804.

    Because of his skill with letters, Francis took up an important clerical role in the colony – he assisted the rambunctious chaplain Rev. Robert Knopwood, giving his signature as witness as many of the early weddings in the colony. He also became a printer, sporadically publishing newspapers to be disseminated around Hobart Town.

    As publican, Francis Barnes didn’t have great luck. His alehouse was forced to move several times, as the government enacted urban planning rearrangements to accommodate a growing settlement; ever the optimist, Barnes reopened the pub in different locations, finally settling under the name Hope and Anchor on Macquarie Street. Good food and reading material accompanied the printer’s service of spirits and beer. He also, famously, had an albino dog named Lady.

    But he didn’t have a real lady. Not until 1823, when he met Elizabeth Ann Macklin; finally, the man who had witnessed so many weddings was able to summon the minister, and Rev. Knopwood married them. Curiously, Francis lied about his age, claiming himself to be ten years more youthful than the 52 years his records suggest; Elizabeth was 39. A special day. But the marriage lasted only four years. In 1827, Elizabeth died. Francis Barnes gave up the pub, and moved into farming. He married again in 1833, to a spinster named Mary Anne Pritchard, and they settled on the 600 acres he had accumulated at Ralphs Bay. This time, his death annulled the matrimony, in 1842.

    The Hope and Anchor survived for close to 200 years, closed for six years, and was then bought for $1.5 million by a Chinese developer late last year.


    The chaplain, Bobby Knopwood, was an interesting character in his own right.