The
Life Story of
William
Bennett EDMONDS [1816-1870] & Elizabeth Ann EVANS [1821-1885]
* William Edmonds and Elizabeth Evans were the parents of John Hinton Edmonds(1) (see "A One-Handed Lad In The Channel Country").
* John Hinton Edmonds(1) married Mary Louisa Puplett in 1874, and were the parents of
Ernest Harry Edmonds (1883-1962).
* Ernest Harry Edmonds married Mabel Jane Haines in 1910, and were the parents of
John Hinton Edmonds(2) (1911-1990).
A
(Sort of) Disclaimer
For more than forty years my journey
through the fascinating world of ‘ancestry’ has not only taken me to the other
side of the world several times, but into more UK and SA libraries, archives,
websites, and Govt departments than I can now remember.
That
journey actually began with this couple, so a huge amount of time, off and on,
has been invested in re-assembling their lives, and up to only about three
months ago I smugly thought I had these two – but especially him – totally
sussed. But researching any history, with an open mind, always has the capacity
to surprise the hell out of you at any moment, and once more re-affirm that
human beings, after all, are wonderfully multi-faceted creatures.
So – as everything I’ve sourced for their
story is today in the public domain – this is what I’ve found. And while I
can’t help an opinion or two getting away from me as I go, in the end it’s up
to you to make up your own mind about these two vibrantly genetic parts of you,
their descendant.
William
Bennett Edmonds
William (apparently always called “Will”)
was born in the woollen cloth industry town of Bradford-on-Avon in Wiltshire in
about mid 1816, to John and Ruth (nee Hinton) Edmonds. Will’s father John
Edmonds was the elder of two sons of a hard-grafting cloth-maker, and at the
time of Will’s birth, John was struggling to get established as a mill owner in
what was by then the last glory days of the West Country’s high quality woollen
broadcloth manufacture. Will’s mother Ruth on the other hand was the eldest of
three daughters (and a black sheep son) of John Hinton, an already established
mill owner and lay Baptist preacher. (See "The Cloth Dynasty That Went Nowhere")
It appears that Will had little exposure
to his extended family’s business, and probably spent most of his pre-marriage
years in Public Schooling and generally swanning about playing the part of the
youthful ‘Gent’. It was during this time that he ran into a young lady from
London, but I’ve never managed to find the ‘common denominator’ that brought
them together.
Elizabeth
Ann Evans
Elizabeth (apparently always called
“Beth”) seems to have been the only child of John and Ann (nee Chapman) Evans,
and was born about 1821, but where is a total mystery, as the Evans people
doggedly remain a complete blank. I do know that Beth’s mother Ann was born
into a Buckinghamshire farming family and had a brother in a thriving timber
business in Pimlico in the 1830/40s, but all I know of Beth’s father John is
that he was a Silk Mercer of Poplar parish by the time of his daughter’s
marriage, but that’s all.
What
I do know is that Poplar parish was in one of the better areas of the East End,
a Silk Mercer was a solid middle class trader occupation, Beth appears to have
had a very good education, and she had a close circle of friends that many
today would call ‘arty’.
Emigration
and Youthful Optimism
Will and Beth married in the new-ish and
rather grand parish church of All Saints in Poplar on Thursday 15th of March
1838 (coincidentally Will’s parents’ 35th wedding anniversary), attended by one
of Will’s mates from home, and what appears to be one of Beth’s girlfriends.
Will was about 21 and Beth about 17, and just two weeks later, probably with
Edmonds family money in his pocket and a clutch of well-connected references in
hand, they boarded the emigrant ship 'Duke of Roxbugh' at the London Docks, and
so began their colonial adventure.
There
aren’t any diaries or logs for their voyage out to South Australia, but the
honeymooners were in one of the best cabins, and it’s likely they had a fair
amount of cargo to help them get started in a frontier colony that was going to
be an 8-9 month round trip away from England and the trappings of any sort of
civilised life.
 |
| 'Holdfast Bay' in 1837 |
After nearly four months at sea (via
Portsmouth, St Jago, and Kangaroo Is) on 28th July 1838 they disembarked via
lighter onto the beach at Holdfast Bay (Glenelg, right), as the ‘Port’ at Port
Adelaide was still little but mud and mangroves, and generally referred to with
good reason as Port Misery (although help was at hand, as the cargo of the Duke
of Roxburgh included a mud-barge along with “...pile-driving and dredging gear for
the SA Colonial Commissioners”).
SA Timeline 1838 – The colony was about 16
months old; population around 6,000 (excluding indigenous bystanders who were
that year generously made into British subjects); first Supreme Court Judge had
already resigned and been drowned (accidentally); and the SA Gazette and
Colonial Register newspaper was cranking out opinionated stuff at sixpence an
issue.
Early
Colonial Life
Soon after arrival, Will pretty much
stepped straight into a Govt position as the first Chief Clerk of the Lands
Office, at a modest salary of £100 (about $40,000 today), suggesting this
was only meant to be part-time, and that he had some pre-arranged connection
with Gov Hindmarsh’s administration.
But
what Will also stepped straight into was a mess of petty colonial politics,
rife with much posturing and general pushing and shoving over lagging land
surveys, and the squabbles that went with them. The state of play when the
young couple arrived was...
Col
William Light, the Colonial Surveyor, had resigned only about four weeks
before, along with all of his survey team, who went out in support of their
respected, hard-working, harassed, and very ill boss. And they took all the
survey gear with them. And they damn-well weren’t giving it back till they got
paid. So the inept Hindmarsh put Charles Kingston (the once friend of Light but
now the betraying assistant) in the job, but he struggled from the start, while
the whole colony was disgruntled (and every person seemed to have an opinion on
everything), there was no production because the Country Sections hadn’t been
surveyed, rampant speculation in town blocks was under way (the square mile of
now Adelaide CBD, and North Adelaide, had at least been done), would-be
settler-farmers were sitting about eating expensive imported foodstuffs while
waiting for their surveys, and there was still some idiotic infighting going on
over the site of the capital (the main cause of Light’s resignation), with
several sides being taken and slanderous words being said, while all the time
the native population surely stood about thinking - who ARE these people? – and
when are they going home?
 |
| 'Port Misery' in the early days |
Other
than that, the whole No Convicts Free Settler Colonial Experiment thing was
roughly going to plan. Except that, fed up with a lot of contradictory reports
– remembering turnaround time for mail was at least eight months – the Commissioners
back in London told Hindmarsh he was sacked, he got the hump and took the very
next ship home, temporarily leaving one of the colonial heavyweights in ‘Govt
House’ to steer the ship. But at least he talked Charles Sturt into filling in
as Surveyor, as Sturt had recently arrived overland with cattle from NSW. (As
it turned out, Sturt was actually a popular choice under the circumstances,
even though a brawl did break out at his Welcome-To-Adelaide dinner, over “a
slur” between two of the town’s worthies).
When the new Governor – George Gawler –
arrived in the October (along with his wife, his wife's mother, seven children, a private secretary, a tutor, a governess, plus servants!), the young Edmonds couple were duly ‘presented’ at
his first Vice-Regal Levee, and then they quickly slipped into the day-to-day
life of the colony. By early 1839 they were living on two one-acre blocks
they’d bought on the surveyed dray-tracks that was South Terrace (then Town Lots 696 and 697 bordering the eastern side of today's Wilcox St), in a
“cottage” that was probably a whitewashed wattle-and-daub hut, the suburban
bungalow of the moment.
But
1839 became something of a year of ups and downs for Will and Beth.
First,
in the heat of mid summer, the office burnt down.
The
temporary Lands Office was yet another wattle-and-daub and brush-roof affair,
in the North Tce parklands, and…
“…on
Tuesday afternoon [21st Jan] about two o'clock, a fire broke out in the private
residence of Mr. Fisher, which, being composed of reeds, was in a very few
moments entirely consumed. The flames communicating to the Land Office and
other wooden buildings attached, they speedily shared the same fate… [with the]
strong south-westerly wind carrying a stream of flame towards the Survey
Office, the work of devastation did not cease until that and the private
residence of Colonel Light were also reduced to ruins… [taking with it his]
irreparable portfolios of drawings made during his residence in the Peninsula
and in Egypt, and a private journal of the last thirty years of his life.” (Sth Aust Register)
But colonial life and business went on.
While the expensive new stone Victoria Sq
Govt offices were being built, the Land Office was moved temporarily to a hut
in Morphett St (opposite the then under construction Trinity Church); Will was
appointed as Secretary to a Commission to investigate the state of the public
stores and their accounts; he was nominated for Grand Jury duty; and he signed
a petition against “…the slanderous statements made against the Colonial
Chaplain in The South Australian…” (one of two broadsheets by now in weekly
print, both full of ads, posturing, and Govt notices).
Up to this point there’s little that hints
at Will’s broader personality and his general approach to life. But, bearing in
mind they’d already bought their South Terrace property, and that he was only
on a modest salary in a very high cost-of-living environment, he still tended
to splash the cash a little on things of a public (and regularly published)
nature.
He
donated 10/- ($200) to a fund for the fencing off of a dangerous waterhole on
the Torrens, then £1 ($400) to the Botanic Gardens Fund, and then subscribed
for no less than four copies of “A Vocabulary of the Language of the Aborigines
of the Adelaide District and Other Friendly Tribes of the Province of South
Australia” by William Williams (an early colonist), which wouldn’t have been
cheap. Maybe he was just being civic-minded, but it seems to smack a little at
‘seen to be keeping up’.
Will attended (without Beth this time
apparently) Gov Gawler's "…Levee & Drawing Room ... the second of the
season ... at Govt House ... His Excellency & Lady Gawler received company
in the drawing room (and there was) abundant refreshments in the ante
room...", and he then helped form, and accepted nomination as Hon Sect of,
the SA Bush Club at its inaugural meeting in the Adelaide Hotel, under
Viceregal patronage, which they set up "...for the purpose of promoting
the interests of, and giving facility to, those gentlemen who may be desirous
of embarking on pastoral or agricultural pursuits, as well as to form a
friendly compact between those individuals for the mutual protection,
preservation, and restoration of each other's property.”
This sounds a touch grand, but the Bush
Club’s first business was to petition Sheriff Newenham "…to convene a
public meeting to consider the native relations with the whites…", as the
indigenous population had by now not only realised that these people weren’t
going away, but they were quickly fencing off every decent piece of dirt,
eating their fish and game, and objecting violently to anyone killing the
chooks and the big white woolly things.
So, the Edmonds’ were holding their own in
this rather compressed colonial society, as in the May of 1839 they attended
the big do to mark the commencement of the new road to the Port, and Will
attended the Queens Birthday Levee at Govt House. But just after this, out of
the blue, came Govt Notices of the “...appointment of a replacement (as Chief
Clerk of Lands Office and on Board of Enquiry) … during the absence of Mr
Edmonds … who is proceeding to England".
Returning
Home
My guess is that about this time they
received the news that Beth’s father had died (it was probably back in about
February), so they decided to hand the job over to a stand-in, rent out the
cottage, return to England for a visit, get a few more necessities of colonial
life, and bring Beth’s mum back out with them. And considering the voyage home
to England was much tougher and much longer than the ‘downhill’ run out on the
trade winds (the ‘Roaring Forties’ that blow left to right across the bottom of
the world), it was surely a decision not taken lightly. A case in point…
A
big clipper ship. attempting to simply sail from Melbourne to Bunbury WA,
couldn’t make way against The Forties, and was again faced by such strong
westerly winds when she attempted to go via Torres Strait to the north (and
then down the other side of WA), that they finally gave up and sailed the other
way around the world – that’s across the Pacific, around Cape Horn, across the
Atlantic, past the Cape of Good Hope, and across the Indian Ocean, to finally
arrive in Bunbury after 76 days at sea!! And this was in 1919!
So,
in late June 1839, the 'Andromache' – a 468 ton barque under Capt Thomas New –
sailed from Pt Jackson NSW, with 21 ‘Passengers’, including a Mr & Mrs
Edmonds and a Dr Osborne, plus many others ‘In Steerage’, along with 624 bales
of wool, all bound for London. And, considering the above, presumably Will and
Beth had to previously take a coastal ship to Sydney to join their ship there,
which then went with the winds east via Cape Horn. But it took nearly five
months, getting to Rio about mid Sept, with The SA Register finally reported
that “…Mr Edmonds of the Land Office arrived in England at the end of Nov
(1839), with despatches from Gov Gawler.”
The only hint of shipboard life (and an
insight into the seemingly ‘arty’ nature of Beth?) on this trip is a charming
hand-made ticket, dated 6th Nov (just before arrival)…
Theatre
Unique
At
the request and with the assistance of the Lady Passengers
of
the Andromache, will be performed on Monday evening next,
Westmacott’s admired
farce entitled ‘Nettlewig Hall’
Omnibus
Placeto
Characters
Amateurs
[and a
drawing of the stern of the ship, with crossed naval flags]
A
B Osborne to his fellow passenger Mrs B Edmonds
("Nettlewig Hall" was a musical farce of the day, and when first performed in 1831, one Lit Mag called it 'a piece of natural dullness, the brightest thing in it was the candles'.)
It looks as though Will and Beth either
went straight over to The West Country on arrival, or did a short stop-off in
London first to pick up her mum but, as they returned to London for quite a
while before sailing back to SA, maybe it was the West Country first. Either
way, as from about Xmas 1839 there was a busy round of friends and relatives,
going by the contributions made to her scrapbook.
This absolutely brilliant, embossed, (now
time-weary) leather-bound book is like a time capsule, thankfully long ago donated to the State Archives. I’ve been through it
several times over the years, and always get the feeling that Beth realised
that she’d probably never be returning home to England, her friends, and a
countryside she clearly loved, and so set about collecting up poems and
drawings (flowers, cottages, ruins, landscapes, and I’m sure many of these
sketches and watercolours were her own) from everyone dear to her, and as fast
as she could in these three months, some done during small excursions out
through Gloucestershire and Wiltshire.
Yes,
the poetry by today’s measure is oh-so Victorian (the young Queen Vic had only
recently been installed) – quaint, twee, flowery, romantic rhymes, on a wide
range of subjects from the mundane to the classical – but they’re all a joy to
read in that context. But what is far more significant, this book is surely the
‘voice’ of Beth herself, as she truly jumps out at you from every one of the
eighty-odd pages. And made all the more poignant considering what was to come
in her life.
The order of entry into her book is
somewhat random, and there’s some blank leaves, but quite a few contributions
are place/dated, giving a fair timeline of the couple’s movements. The earliest
(other than that ‘theatre ticket’) is a poem by an Anne James titled “A
Batchelor’s Bedroom”, dated 30th Dec 1839 at 50 Queen Sq Bristol (an upmarket area around a park, but sadly the house had been replaced), and then a
whole raft of bits through Jan 1840, including one from Will’s young brother
Samuel, and a lot from three Hooper sisters of Bristol, one of whom Samuel was
about to marry.
Then
from around early-mid Feb all the entries seem to be by London people,
including many from Beth’s aunt Isabel Chapman, who Beth was clearly very close
to, going by Isobel’s poem “To Elizabeth, On the Second Wedding Anniversary of
her Marriage” (dated 15th March 1840). But the last entry before they sail,
marked simply March 1840 but sure to be late in the month, is a heart-felt poem
"On the Departure of my Beloved Friends for Aust", again by her Aunt
Isabel, that opens …
There
is a word in whose unwelcome sound
The
essence of all bitterness is found
And
when we utter it we often feel
More
than the eye or language can reveal…
…and
with that sort of sentiment in their ears, on the 6th of April 1840, along with
Beth's mum, and in the best cabins on the ship, they left England for the
second time, on the barque Fairlie via Cape of Good Hope. In the hold Will had "...48 casks merchandise, 7 cases, 7 pkgs, 13 bales, 4 carriages, 14 qtrcasks
wine...” for themselves (or for sale, as surely 2 carriages would be enough, even
for a ‘Gent’?!), although some of this could have been the residual estate of
Beth’s father.
The trip out, of ‘only’ 90 days, was the
fastest ever to that time, albeit containing storms, a couple of altercations,
many children dying (with appallingly off-hand acceptance), the whole Crossing-The-Line
hooplah, and a fire on board (Google 'James Bowley Diary'). The other ‘Cabin Passengers’ included a Mr
Conway, who would become a share farmer for Will, along with Thomas Whistler
(founder of Unley), and BM DaCosta (of much Adelaide real estate). But in
‘Other Passengers’ (= Cattle Class) was a young bloke called Robert Langdon
Bonython, who in time would show everyone how dynasty and making good was
really done.
 |
| Will Edmonds, drawn by Beth on the ship |
In
the last week or so of the journey Whistler and DaCosta both put entries in
Beth’s scrapbook, and Beth did this great little drawing of Will. (And also
became pregnant with their first child.)
On
7th July 1840 they once more disembarked at Glenelg and quickly picked up where
they left off in the town, work-wise and socially.
SA Timeline 1840 – Adelaide's (European) population
about 8,500 in 1,600 buildings; smallpox vaccinations had
begun; total cultivated land was a whole 1,013 ha; the Adelaide Hospital was
opened, as was the City Council (Aust’s first).
The
Edmonds Family – Landed Gentry
It was about here that Will made a smart
move and went out on a limb by investing in some prime farming country. Far too
many were simply speculating in mainly city property, with quick profits being
made from what was really only a land investment bubble, as the colony’s
‘economy’ was actually being propped up by bundles of cash streaming in from
the Commissioners in London, to cover Gov Gawler’s unduly lavish (but
far-sighted?) public building program.
But
at least some settlers were out farming at last, real production was happening,
there was good employment (albeit much too much associated with public works),
and emigrants were flowing in. People wanted land, so good real estate, both
inner village and the nearer country blocks, were the big ticket items.
Will acquired four excellent 80 acre
sections south of Adelaide on the Onkaparinga River – probably with at least
partly borrowed money – just below today’s Mt Bold Reservoir and just upstream
from Clarendon. In the Agricultural Returns Will was described as a
“…Cultivator, of Barton Farm … consisting 3 acres potatoes, 1 acre garden,
watered by the Onkaparinga River, 10 acres fenced, a dwelling-house, hut, and
stockyards”, but Will was actually still Chief Clerk of the Lands Office and
living on South Tce, so we can only presume this farm had a manager or
share-farmer on it, and most probably the Robert Conway who came out with them
on the 'Fairlie'.
So, colonial life seemed to be going well
for them. Late in 1840 Will attended yet another levee at ‘Govt House’ (without
Beth, now about four months along), both Will and Beth and Beth’s mum, and
Robert Conway, made up part of the official list for the big opening ceremony
for the SA Company's new wharf at Port Adelaide, and Beth collected up some
poems (all of sailing themes) for her scrapbook, with reference to the ship
"Mercury" at anchor at the Port.
But 1841 was destined to be the year that
the direction of their lives changed markedly. And like a portent of things to
come, this time the new year kicked off with Government House burning down – no
great loss and not really affecting Will and Beth directly, but it sort of set
the mood.
The
truth was, the young couple had already seen the high points of their colonial
adventure, and they would never really be among the upper layers of SA society
again. Regardless of how hard Will tried.
But
for the moment their agricultural interests were going fairly well – the new
partnership of Edmonds & Conway registered their own cattle brand ("EC
far hip") – and in the first full Census of the colony early in 1841, the
Southern District return shows "W B Edmonds & R G M Conway", but
surprisingly that the property had 3 females under 7, 2 males 7-13, 1 male
14-20, 1 male and 1 female 21-35, and 1 female 35-49. As Conway seemed to have
arrived as a single man, I’m not sure who all these people were (a widow with
kids? farm hands?), as Will and Beth and Mrs Evans are listed separately at
South Tce, along with 1 male 7-13 and 1 female 14-20, presumably both live-in
servants.
Then, on 21st of March their first child –
Mary Elizabeth – was born in Adelaide, with her father's rank on the
certificate given as ‘Gentleman and Landowner’, but confusingly when she was
baptised at Holy Trinity on North Tce, Mary Elizabeth was recorded as Elizabeth
Ann, which was her grandmother Evans’ name. (And they didn’t officially
register her for nearly two years, in Feb 1843!)
Harder
Times
On the 10th of May 1841 a ship arrived at
The Port. On it was the 29 year old Army officer George Grey, and in Grey’s
pocket – with no forewarning – was Gov Gawler’s recall notice.
Gawler
naturally was less than amused, spat the dummy, and took the next boat home,
leaving Grey to it. But also in Grey’s pocket was the Colonial Commission’s
belt-tightening brief, an austerity program that Grey rapidly got on with.
Predictably, an early fiscal casualty was a lot of the public service fat.
Which would soon Include Will.
But,
for the time being Edmonds life pottered on, with Will convening a special
meeting of The Bush Club to pressure the Govt for some action over “…the murder
of settlers by Murray blacks…", to which Will donated £1 (1% of a year’s
salary!) to the punitive expedition, and the colony’s mid-year Cultivation
Returns show “…Barton Farm... watered by the Onkaparinga… (having) 10 acres
with dogleg fence, a dwelling house, hut, stockyard, 3 acres of potatos, and 1
of garden…”, with Will and Conway listed as members of the new SA Agricultural
Society.
But in July 1841, reality finally caught
up with the whole colony, till now living well beyond it’s productive means.
With
‘restless zeal’ Grey announced that without approval from London he would not
recognize the claims of the government’s creditors, which not surprisingly
alarmed the heck out of Adelaide businessmen. Then he suspended work on most of
Adelaide's new Govt buildings, reduced the scale of public relief in hope that
the unemployed would be driven out onto the farms, then set about probing
departmental expenses, making big reductions all round, even borrowed troops
from Sydney so he could halve his police force. He pared down the Survey
Department, he found fault with many of the old officials and cut their
salaries and allowances, and – getting down to micro level – even disallowed
2/6 for a pane of glass in an office window, refused eightpence to an office
boy for sharpening pencils, and called his Emigration Agent to account for
using mustard at the public expense! The man was on a mission.
By
the end of July 1841 the bubble was about to pop, with Will in modest debt and
out of a job. But to add to his miseries, Will was required to serve on the
jury for the notorious 'Ville de Bordeaux' trial, which lasted about three
months. The family was struggling to maintain their social standing and had few
real prospects, although by then the healthy share arrangement with Robert
Conway down at ‘Barton Farm’ was doing okay, as they had 130 cattle, 3 horses,
10 acres of wheat, 2 of barley, 4 of oats, 1 of maize, 2 of potatoes, and an
acre of other garden. Conway at least was getting on with some serious farming.
But
the city was languishing. In January 1842 Adelaide was described as being “half
deserted”, the bottom had fallen out of land values, and the speculators were
going bankrupt daily. Wisely (or simply because he didn’t have the cash) Will
hadn’t jumped onto the crazy land bandwagon, but he seems to have been living
well beyond his modest salary anyway, and now that was gone entirely, to the
point where he couldn’t even pay his Council Rates on the South Tce blocks.
Edmonds
the Gentleman Farmer
Probably taking a leaf from partner
Conway’s book, not that he had a lot of options, early in January 1842 Will and
Beth opted for the life of the full-time farmer and leased three partly
developed 80 acre sections, which they named ‘Westwood’( ), which covered what
is today’s Clarendon Weir and Oval on the Onkaparinga River, not far downstream
from his ‘Barton Farm’ venture with Conway.
They
moved the family down there, and about the same time, along with an Adelaide
money-man, Will did some kind of deal whereby they got to hold seven one acre
building blocks in the new village of Kensington (as a surety of some kind),
along with another 80 acre section adjoining ‘Westwood’ at Clarendon.
 |
| 'Westwood' This charming watercolour was done by Beth, and kept in her scrapbook |
But Will – now described as “of
Onkaparinga, Settler” – looked somewhat short of working capital (while liable
for ongoing farm lease payments, and Beth pregnant with their second), so he
borrowed £150 (say $60,000) from an Adelaide businessman, in the form of a
Promissory Note, but repayable in full in just three months, at a time when he
couldn’t even afford to pay the now well overdue £2-2-0 Rates on their city
blocks. And sure enough, he could only repay £72 of this loan on time, and had
to put up half of their only real asset, the city property (the half with the
cottage on it) as surety against the shortfall.
Their ‘Westwood’ farm was doing well
enough, reaping 42 acres of wheat and 8 acres of barley, and also returning 2
acres of potatoes along with their large vegie garden, and late in 1842, Will
did some kind of a full 50/50 land partnership deal with Conway on the ‘Barton
Farm’ property upstream, in what looks like a simple cash-raising exercise.
By
the close of the year the farm was producing fairly well (and their second
daughter – Annie Isabel – arrived), but they still had very little of what you
could call equity. Will was now about 26 years old, and Beth about 21.
But 1843 wasn’t about to get any easier.
The colony was still struggling, and in the March Will and Beth had to forfeit
that half of their town block in consideration for the outstanding £78 (along
with a further £6 loaned to Will by another local worthy caught up in things),
quickly followed by the partnership selling up of ‘Barton Farm’, where Conway
realised £320 for his two sections but Will could only get £160 for his two,
suggesting Conway’s piece had all the improvements on it.
Then
in the May of 1843 they trekked up to Adelaide to have their daughter baptised
at Trinity (then the ‘St Peters Cathedral’ of the town), and Will organised to
wind up the floundering Bush Club and dispose of the remaining funds – by
divvying them up evenly between the remaining members.
Back in Clarendon Will sat as a juror at a
local Coronial Inquest "…at the house of Henry Weston … into the
accidental death of a Robert Rose, a stonemason run over by a cart on the
Onkaparinga Road…", and their Ag Returns for the season shows “…Westwood,
42 acres of wheat, 8 of barley, 1 of potatoes, 1 of other garden…”, which at
least suggests the farm was still producing well enough. But maybe not well
enough (either that or Will was looking to diversify?), as by the close of the
year he was advertising himself in The Register as an ‘Agent of Onkaparinga’,
representing some wool broker interests in London, and in December he (and his
surety partner) sold the seven Village of Kensington blocks for £70, presumably
forfeited to them under the terms of the deal with the owner,.
But how would Beth have been going with
all this? Will seems to me as being self-confident and optimistic, and yes,
there were green-leaf signs that the colony was recovering, but was this
anything like what she had expected? Two small daughters, no immediate
prospects, and living in a slab hut in the bush. But there was one thing you
had to say about the lady – she was durable.
Returning
to Adelaide
By 1844 it was being openly said that the
worst of the colony’s financial crisis was over, and maybe this gave Will a
whole new spasm of optimism, or his wool-broking thing was looking promising,
or he just thought that farming wasn’t going to do it for them. But for
whatever reason he moved the family – with Beth now well pregnant again – to a
rented property somewhere around present day Marion ‘On the Sturt’ (River).
which he named ‘Berryfield’ after his uncle’s big estate back in Bradford, and
formally set up as a full-time ‘Commission Agent’, but not before taking an
unsuccessful action in court against the prior owners of the temporarily
adjoining block at Clarendon, something to do with ‘confiscated cattle’.
 |
| Holy Trinity Church c.1850 |
In the July of 1844 their third child
(Ruth Hinton) was born, and this time Will was described as being “…of
Berryfield near Adelaide, a Landholder…”; in the September he was required to
sit on the Grand Jury for a murder case, where three teenage girls were accused
of killing the (illegitimate) baby of one of them. Then in the October he
formally surrendered the lease of the farm at Clarendon for a nominal consideration of a whole ten
shillings; in November they went into town to have Ruth (now about five months
old) baptised at Holy Trinity; and to close the year they sold the remaining eastern
half of their South Tce property for £25.
Then they moved yet again. This time it
was to Hammersmith (south-east of the CBD), and they seemed to be stumbling along well enough in the
first half of 1845. But while they’d by then sold up their few bits of real
estate, Will still owed money, including borrowings from The Bank of SA. And
now he only had his commission agent’s income to fall back on, although a
couple of documents of the day suggest he was already dabbling in a little
brewing, and doing some shoe repairs on the side. Clearly they were struggling,
and this was not a man with a viable business model or a clear career path.
Going
Under for the First Time
Around September 1845 the wheels finally
came off all the way, just as Beth became pregnant with their fourth child.
Bankruptcy was by then a common enough
thing, and godknows plenty of the State heavies-to-be were in the throes of it
as a result of land speculation under Hindmarsh and Gawler. It was all over the
papers, names and details, but there seemed to be no great public shame
attached to it. And you had two options. You either put your hand up and threw
yourself onto the mercy of the Supreme Court and the Insolvency Act of 1844, or
you waited till one or more of your creditors ran out of patience and shopped
you. In this latter version, to get the chop you only needed to owe £50 (say
$20,000 today) to one creditor, a total of £75 to two, £100 to three, or any
number at £20 each that totalled over £200, and be just two weeks late.
Option two was nearly always followed,
very quickly, by two actions –
Step one they immediately put you in gaol
so you wouldn’t ‘do a bolt’ (as many did) to the eastern states, and step two
was to take everything you owned (except “…the wearing apparel of the Insolvent
and family, and tools and furniture, not exceeding a Court-prescribed value…”),
and put it all up for auction.
Will involuntarily took option two. Which
meant he was off to gaol. Then on the 21st of October 1845, the “South
Australian” carried the ad…
Sheriff’s
Sale - E. Stephens (Bank of South Australia) v. W. B. Edmonds.
To
be sold, at the auction mart, on Thursday next, by virtue of a writ of
fieri facias in this cause to me directed, all the furniture and effects of the
above defendant. Sale at 12 o'clock.
fieri facias in this cause to me directed, all the furniture and effects of the
above defendant. Sale at 12 o'clock.
The other thing was, they kept you in gaol
till they were satisfied they’d wrung out as much as was likely. Which in
Will’s case was going to be a full year, even though in the April of 1846 it
was reported that “…the amended schedule put in was the best he could give and
that he had surrendered the whole of his property, (and so) the Commissioner
ordered him to be discharged upon payment of the fees."
But
Will couldn’t even pay the fees, and remained in Adelaide Gaol for a while
longer, missing the birth of his first son, John Hinton, born in Hammersmith on
the 2nd of May. You would have to think that Beth, with their three small
girls, and Beth’s mother, and now the new baby, must have had a struggle to get
by, surely dependant on the goodwill of friends.
It looks as though Beth actually held off
getting John Hinton baptised (at Holy Trinity), until late in the August of
1846, as this was about the time Will was finally released, and in early Sept
given his Certificate of Clearance, although still in a state of Insolvency,
with virtually nothing to their names. Temporarily beaten, for a few months
Will grafted away with a bit of brewing and some shoe repairs – I’ve got no
idea where he picked up either skill – but he was soon to bounce back.
Edmonds
the (Singing) Brewer
Undoubtedly looking to make a fresh start,
in January 1847 Will leased a property “…together with brewery thereon and
utensils…” for seven years, down south in the small town of Noarlunga, right on
what was then the main road south to McLaren Vale, Willunga, Victor Harbor, and
Goolwa, and they appeared to have quickly settled into the fabric of the local
area, even though it wasn’t until the 15th of March 1848 (actually their 10th
wedding anniversary) that the courts started to at last wind up their
Bankruptcy, finally clearing them in the April.
So, comparatively speaking, life was now
looking a bit better. Will was about 31, Beth 26-ish and about to become
pregnant with their fifth and last child. the girls were 7, 5, and 4, young
John Hinton 2, and Beth’s mum 63.
 |
| Old Noarlunga mid 1850s, signed 'W Fisher' Their daughter Annie later married a William Fisher |
Old Noarlunga was a good small town (and still
is), about 13 kms from the city on the banks of the Onkaparinga, and would
become the place of the kids’ childhood years. It had a popular pub – ‘The
Horseshoe Inn’, virtually next door) – a flour mill, and about forty houses.
The old road south forded the river there and was fairly busy, and though the
river is slightly tidal at the town, it was deep enough to carry produce down
to Pt Noarlunga. You would have to think a good place to set up a brewery and
make some real money.
So, on the surface of it, it looked like
this was a canny move. Will took out a Storekeepers Licence, presumably to
cover his beer sales, and he enjoyed local popularity, as a man and as a
brewer, and was regularly involved in the activities of the growing southern
districts. This all had the makings of a better life. And it’s one of these
local dos that gives us an insight into the larger personality of Will Edmonds.
In July 1848 a big Ploughing Contest was
organised at “the sylvan hamlet of Willunga” – not really much different from
today’s big rural Ag Days – followed by a rollicking presentation dinner at
night.
The
daytime stuff was about what you’d imagine – community breakfast, then endless
precision ploughing up and down, classes for oxen-drawn and horse-drawn, lots
of rules, modest prizes, a major day out for families from all over, reporters
waxing lyrical, and at the close “…the return of the more distant visitors
being favoured by a bright moon and a sky which had been all day without a
cloud… (after which) about one hundred gentlemen and farmers soon found
themselves seated around tables bearing abundance of the good things of this
life…” at The Bush Inn, where they all set about making toasts, presenting the
prizes, cheering, singing, and having an all-round good time. Will wasn’t
reported as being at the heavyweight’s tables, but “…in the body of the room we
notice (among other locals) Mr Edmonds of Noarlunga…”
Then
it was toasts all round – the Queen (“being drunk with three times three”),
then Albert (ditto), the Governor (hic - ditto), The Church (Anglican of
course, the Rev Burnett responding at length with a lot of religious blather!),
the Dissenters (less than equal time, and no mention of the Catholics at all),
then the Officials, the Judges, the Winners, the Losers, the next match, then
Farmers, Pastoralists, Miners, Commerce, the Free Press (waffle waffle waffle),
and finally the Ladies of Willunga and Neighbourhood (who weren’t actually
there because they hadn’t been invited).
In
amongst all this it was reported that the Chairman then proposed…
“…Mr
Edmonds, and our Internal Interests; the toast being followed with roars of
laughter and loud cries for Mr Edmonds, who promptly and good-humouredly
responded, assuring the company that he was daily studying their ‘internal’
interests, and was every day becoming wiser in his knowledge of good malt,
hops, and good water, and in the proper combination of them for the benefit of
his neighbours. Beyond this his botanical knowledge did not extend. For
instance, be knew nothing of she-oak hops, which in some quarters were
considered erroneously to do as well as malt (loud laughter). For his own part,
he proposed to confine his investigations entirely to barleycorns as the best
way of promoting the interests of his own brewery, and the 'internal' interests
of those around him. He thanked them for the honour done him on the present
interesting occasion.”
That gives something of an idea of Will’s
gregarious and sociable nature, but he wasn’t done for the night. By that stage
everyone would have been well oiled up and so the singing started, opening with
a patriotic thing to Britannia “The Queen of the Sea”, then the Chairman -
“…with
much feeling… proceeded to call upon Mr Edmonds for a song, which that
gentleman gave in excellent voice and style – “In The Days When We Went
Gypsying, A Long Time Ago” (a country-folkie sort of ballad of the day) …which
all sounds a lot like his elder brother back home in Bradford entertaining the
chaps in The Swan.
In
the March of 1849, the Edmonds’ last child was born – William Bennett Jnr – and
by now Dad was well entrenched in the wider community, being seconded to the
Organising Committee for the next big Ploughing Match day, set for August 1849
at Morphett Vale.
This
one was an even bigger turnout than the last, but fairly much stuck to the same
agenda (with the reporting getting ever more flowery), although there was “…
some pugilistic encounters in an adjoining field, but these were soon quelled
by a passing mounted Policeman, and also some subsequent disturbances by two or
three… tipsy enough to have incurred the (attention of the) Resident
Magistrate.”
So, everyone had a good day. And then a
good night.
‘The
Emu’ was jumping with endless toasts, in varying degrees of wit and verbosity,
and then “…Mr Edmonds sang 'The Land Of My Own Country’…”, then more toasts,
more singing, the prize giving, Will jumped in and proposed a toast to the
colonial press (which I’m sure he would live to regret), yet more toasts, some
poetry, some left-handed jokes about the state of the ‘roads’, and to finish,
more toasts and a song. And the next day, for anyone still vertical there was
Horse Racing, Foot Racing, and a Steeplechase. Life was shorter then, you
couldn’t afford to hang about!
You would have to say that domestic and
business life for the Edmonds family seemed to be ticking along fairly well,
but (although Will was getting £3 for a hogshead of beer) he was still beset
with cash flow problems – or more likely expenses-greater-than-income problems
– as late in 1849 he mortgaged the balance of his seven year lease of the
brewery to meet bills for brewing materials, and to cover old debts of £158 to
the same supplier, due on 1/11/1850. This was on top of a further £110 due on
1/11/1851, and all at interest of 15% pa. (That’s about $110,000 in working
capital owed, @ $16,500 pa interest. And how does one go about mortgaging a
lease anyway?!).
Will
was quietly sliding into debt again – to the point where he even had to resort
to getting his elder brother Ezekiel back home to go surety for some
unspecified value of pressing bills, just to keep afloat – at a time when, on
the surface of it, the business and the town seemed to be going quite well.
Early in the Spring of 1851, a ‘roving
correspondent’ painted quite a word picture of the area, during a tour of the
southern districts. He reported –
"On
the right, descending into Noarlunga, we passed a new church … of which the
foundation stone had not long since been laid … dedicated to St. Philip and St.
James, but was yet unfinished.
 |
| The old Edmonds brewery is the two-gabled building on the left |
 |
| The old brewery, taken in 1985 |
"The
township of Noarlunga is laid out on a spot nearly surrounded by the River
Onkaparinga… contains at present upwards of 40 houses, and at least 150
inhabitants… [and in the last] eight or nine short months, the township has
attracted much attention, new settlers are arriving, and new buildings
springing up in every quarter…
"On
the right, at the entrance of the township, is a steam flour mill… [and]
opposite the mill is the Horseshoe Inn… comfortable in accommodation and well
managed… [and] drives what is called 'a roaring trade'… which we can in part
confirm, particularly in the season (which it now was) for the transit of wool;
one constant excitement being kept up day and night by the noise, clamour,
laughing, and swearing of the bullock-driver travellers and other worthies who
pull up there… [and] in the river there is abundance of fish — crayfish and
bream in particular — on which account parties of the aborigines locate here
during the full fish season.
"A
curious discovery had just been made… in the centre of the road at the end of
the immediate descent into the township, and opposite to the Horseshoe Inn… a
burial place of the aborigines has been disclosed by the wearing away of the
crown of the road in the traffic. Whether this was the scene of a furious
fight, or simply a place of interment, then quite private, but now perhaps the
most public spot in Noarlunga, it would be curious to know. The grinding and
scraping of the drays and vehicles has brought the bodies to view, on the
present surface, and in many cases in the perfect state of skeleton, to a considerable
extent."
But, regardless of any financial concerns
(or burial grounds out in the front street), Will was still in the thick of
local activities, as in 1851 he was horse judge at the local market, and he’d
joined the local Oddfellows Lodge (while back home in Bradford in 1852 his
brother Ezekiel was being appointed Deputy Lord Lieutenant for Wiltshire).
When
acting as a character witness in a court case in 1853, Will was still being
described as “a respectable farmer of Noarlunga”, but by the March their
finances were doing some serious wobbling, to the point where Will borrowed
£240, at a hefty 15% again, from one Henry Gilbert, an auctioneer and a bit of
a money wheeler-dealer in Adelaide.
So,
with unending optimism about the future (and his own business acumen?), in the
August of 1853 Will leased the brewery for an another 14 years, but early in
1854 Henry Gilbert seemed to get nervous, and Will once more had to put the
business up as surety, not only to cover the £240 already owing to Gilbert, but
to cover a further loan from him of £200 (that’s about $175,000 all up). But
this time the 15% interest on the whole lot was made payable quarterly, with
the principle repayable in full by August!!
Gilbert
seemed to be having serious doubts, but my guess would be that – as Will had
few real assets – he must’ve enjoyed a decent cash flow at least or he never
would’ve secured the finance at all. Either that or he had a truly golden
tongue.
In the meantime, daily life rolled on,
Will was nominated, with others, “…to collect [Crimean] War Relief Funds for
Willunga and district…”, and (oddly) their eldest child Mary bought a building
block "…laid out as the township called Casterton…", now part of
today’s Port Noarlunga, for a “nominal consideration” of ten shillings. I’m not
sure what this is about, as Mary was only 13 at the time – was she starting her
glory box?!
But in reality Will was clearly
struggling, and probably because he couldn’t make part or all of his now
overdue principle repayment, in Sept 1854 in desperation he wrote to his
brother back home asking for yet another surety, this time for £400 (think
$160,000) ‘against creditors’, which Ezekiel agreed to.
But
no sooner was the family relaxing a bit than The Register was reporting–
ACCIDENT.
Last week a valuable horse, belonging to
Mr. W. B. Edmonds, of Noarlunga, while engaged in
drawing water from the Onkaparinga, backed the cart
into a deep waterhole, and, being drawn in with it, was
drowned. The driver made every attempt to disengage
him from the cart, but without effect.
Mr. W. B. Edmonds, of Noarlunga, while engaged in
drawing water from the Onkaparinga, backed the cart
into a deep waterhole, and, being drawn in with it, was
drowned. The driver made every attempt to disengage
him from the cart, but without effect.
It
hadn’t been a really good year. And 1855 only got worse.
Will
was having to use the full £400 surety of Ezekiel’s to stay afloat, then came
the news that Will’s younger brother Samuel had suddenly died back home in
Bradford. At this point they seemed to have had their back’s to the wall, but
nothing got any better, as in the January of 1856, the news from home was that
Will’s mum had died, followed a few months later that his dad had passed away
as well.
Will
was now about 40, Beth about 36, and their five kids ranged from 15 down to 7,
with Beth’s mum in her early 70s. Debt was piling up and Will just couldn’t
seem to climb out from under, and my own impression was that he never built up
any equity in anything, just continually spent cash flow to maintain the
appearance of a successful middleclass lifestyle. It couldn’t last. But hey, he
went on giving it a decent shot.
Going
Under for the Second Time
Right
through most of 1856 Will was still in the thick of local events, regularly
judging the wheat and barley at the Shows, always on the committees for the
Ploughing Contest days, spoke at his IOOF Lodge dinners, and petitioned for a
District Council for Noarlunga.
But
his creditors were running out of patience and he was running out of time. Late
in the Sept of 1856 they (probably headed by Henry Gilbert) shopped him for
debt, and Will once more found himself in the Adelaide Gaol, awaiting the
pleasure of the Courts, quickly followed by further ignominy in The Register
for October –
NOARLUNGA.
UNDER DISTRESS FOR RENT.
BILL OF SALE, AND BY ORDER OF THE MORTGAGEE.
BILL OF SALE, AND BY ORDER OF THE MORTGAGEE.
TO
be SOLD by Auction, on the premises of Mr. W. B. Edmonds,
at Noarlunga, on Tuesday, the 14th day of October inst, by
Mr. J. H. Parr. The LEASE of the Valuable BREWERY there
situate, having eleven years to run from the 1st June last, at
the low rent of £10 per annum. ALSO Brewing Utensils, Casks,
Malt-Crushing, Mickine Horse and Cart, and Household Furniture.
at Noarlunga, on Tuesday, the 14th day of October inst, by
Mr. J. H. Parr. The LEASE of the Valuable BREWERY there
situate, having eleven years to run from the 1st June last, at
the low rent of £10 per annum. ALSO Brewing Utensils, Casks,
Malt-Crushing, Mickine Horse and Cart, and Household Furniture.
For
further particulars, apply to the Auctioneer; or to
Mr. H. Gilbert, solicitor, Adelaide.
Mr. H. Gilbert, solicitor, Adelaide.
How Beth and the rest of the family coped
during all this is anyone’s guess, presumably once more falling back on the
support of neighbours and friends while Will’s case ground through the
processes, all of which was reported in the press in full detail.
Will’s preliminary hearing before the
Commission finally came up in mid Nov 1856, but right from the start there was
some uncertainty about the £400 surety he had from his brother back in England,
which he seemed to have ‘sold’ to a Mr Bray at a heavy discount (for cash) but
also drew some bills against it, but when questioned he “…would not swear
whether or not he had named to Mr. Bray that he had drawn on his brother for
the £400. He might or might not. (But he) …advised his brother of the
transaction with Mr. Bray, and at the same time informed him that he might
require another sum of £150 to assist him in his business, but he had not
drawn.”
Not wishing to be unkind, but there is a
distinct flavour of ducking and weaving in Will’s testimony, and at that point
the judge also expressed some doubt about things, but in fairness let Will out
on bail and adjourned his case till he could hear from either Mr Bray, or some
anticipated letter turned up from Ezekiel that “…the insolvent (said was) very
likely by the next arrival from England.”
It wasn’t until mid March 1857 that Will
was up before the Court again, (interestingly being represented by the lawyer
Gilbert, who had been his primary creditor! – not sure how that worked), and
while Will finally had his brother’s letter in hand, it didn’t “…mention the
bill given to Mr. Bray at all, whether he had paid it or not, but expressed
himself willing to assist him (the Insolvent) to the best of his power… [at
which point] His Worship expressed surprise that no mention had been made of
the bill, and which did not look well.”
Mr Bray was also in attendance, and not
happy, even though (as the Judge pointed out) he’d done pretty well out of the
discounted surety, at “…nearly 15 times more than the Banks would have
charged.” But he still decreed that Will should go back inside for another
three months to see if a bit more couldn’t be found, as the Judge had the
opinion that Will had lived well beyond his means for the past five years and
also cast some doubt on the veracity of Will’s bookkeeping! At which point Will
asked (you’ve got to give him full marks for front!) if he could be not only
let out on bail, but also be protected from his creditors for six months! Which
the Judge I have to say firmly declined. (Okay, worth a shot).
By mid June 1857 Will was once more a free
(free-ish) man, presumably with no income, no job, no home, and no furniture.
But their address was still Noarlunga, and as there’s no suggestion that anyone
else took over (what was then) Henry Gilbert’s brewery, maybe – with Gilbert
keeping a close eye – he put Will back into it on a temporary basis?
But now Beth’s mum was ailing, to the
point where in early Sept 1857 she made out her will (in a very shaky hand) –
"I
hereby wish that the money bequeathed to me by my brother William Henry Chapman
who died Sept 17 1845 should be equally divided between my five grandchildren,
my nephew John Chapman the secondary legatee having stated that if I did not
return to England to claim it he was willing that my grandchildren should
receive it."
–
and just two weeks later “…after a lingering illness, Mrs Evans, the beloved
mother of Mrs W B Edmonds Noarlunga, aged 72 years…" died with her family
around her. She is buried in their little church on the hill above the brewery
in Old Noarlunga.
Early in 1858, Will had his closing
Insolvency Audit, and they finally wound it up – paying a whole
eightpence-halfpenny in the pound! – and the family was at last out from under
the restrictions that went with Bankruptcy.
Somehow none of this seemed to damage the
man’s standing in the local community, as in the March “Mr WB Edmonds Esq” was
made Judge for the big two day Southern Race Meeting held at Noarlunga. But
change was in the air, and in the May a young local man Edward Dutton (‘of
Noarlunga, Gent’) formally took up the lease of the brewery from Henry Gilbert,
and also took the eye of Will and Beth’s eldest daughter Mary, by then 17.
Adrift
in a Sea of Uncertainty
The rest of 1858 is unrecorded, possibly
they stayed on in Noarlunga for a while longer, but more likely they moved to
Mitcham about then, although what Will did for an income is a mystery.
But
then the surprising thing is that late in April 1859, Will boarded the coastal
ship Havilah, and ‘in the cabin’ (with several others) sailed to Hobson’s Bay
(now Pt Melbourne), arriving two days later, leaving Beth at home with the
kids, now aged 18 down to 10.
For a man who had been bankrupt and lost
everything not once but twice, and now with an uncertain income, this seems an
unusual enough move. But two weeks later he boarded the barque Avon, and – in
one of the best cabins – set sail for London. Bearing in mind that on top of
the cost, and the risk, a round trip (which it was) also meant nine to twelve
months out of his life, not to mention out of Beth’s and the kids’ lives, so he
must have had a motive more pressing than just off visiting friends and family.
The
only real justification I can imagine for this is financial. His older brother
Ezekiel was by now a JP, a magistrate, a Liberal MP, and the Deputy Lord
Lieutenant for Wiltshire, and as their parents (and their younger brother) had
all died in the previous 2-3 years, Ezekiel was the inheritor of the estate.
But their dad died so poor he didn’t even bother to make a will, and the
Chapman money mentioned in Beth’s mother’s will sounds smallish. So, was he
simply going cap in hand, in person, to Ezekiel?
Whatever the reason, he seemed to have
stayed in England about three months before boarding the cargo ship Helena
early in 1860, “…Passenger (the only one) in the cabin Mr WB Edmonds…”,
arriving at Pt Adelaide in the June, and then back with his family out at
Mitcham.
All this time young Edward Dutton had
managed to do with the brewery what Will never could – not only have it make
profits, but developed it and consolidated it into quite a viable business,
making it a good foundation for his financial life to come. And he was by this
time seriously courting the eldest daughter Mary, now 19 and presumably working
in the Mitcham area (she strikes me as a no-nonsense type of a girl), with
their second – Annie, now nearly 18 – and their third – Ruth, now 16 – probably
doing the same. Young John, about 14, seems to have stayed behind in Noarlunga
and worked for Dutton, while William Jr at 11 was surely still at his
schooling.
In the Sept, just before Mary married,
Annie wrote a light (and a bit flowery) poem straight into her mother’s
scrapbook, about the scrapbook itself, opening –
A
book of scraps, a thing of shreds and patches,
Of
sentimental lives and comic scratches…
–
suggesting a personality similar to Beth’s own, and how the scrapbook – by now
containing quite a collection – was something of an icon in the family.
Edward
Dutton by this time was established to the point where he had already branched
out with another brewery across in Yankalilla, where the young John Edmonds now
worked, and 1860 closed for the family with the wedding in October of Mary to
Edward, in St Michaels at Mitcham.
Mary’s
marriage certificate clearly shows her and her father both being ‘of Mitcham’
at that time, but oddly in the February of 1861 Will was appointed as the
Collector of Customs & Ag Stats for Willunga & East, quickly followed
in the March by being appointed as the Clerk of the new District Court of
Wallaroo and Kadina, at the modest salary of £100 pa.
Why
suddenly a job way up in the Copper Triangle isn’t clear, but they packed and
moved once more, taking the other two girls and Will Jr with them, and they
quickly settled into their new life. Mary made them grandparents late in 1861,
Will Jr became a local Postal Messenger on a salary of £50 pa, and in the Sept
of 1862, their second daughter Annie married in Kadina to a William Fisher, who
was about to become the manager of the local National Bank.
Going
Under for the Third and Last Time
On the surface of it, Edmonds family life
seemed to be fairly stable at last, but the forces driving the final acts in
this little colonial saga were already on the move.
Will was by then in his mid-40s, but this
still appears to be a man who just could not accept the realities of his
limited ability or his financial circumstances, and habitually lived beyond his
means. In fairness maybe he just had a lot of bad luck. And who knows, maybe it
was really Beth who continually demanded a lifestyle bigger than their income,
but I just can’t see any of that. To my mind he simply believed he was above
the grind of the average middleclass working man, and was meant for bigger
things. Either way. The following events suggest a man irrationally desperate
for something. But you make up your own mind.
By
late 1862 Will was in debt again. being formally summonsed for £35-4-0 (about
$14,000), but this was more likely only the half of it, considering what was
about to unfold. Having mulled over the records of the next 3-6 months at some
length, and looked at them from every angle, I still can’t get my head around
what he was about to do.
As
Clerk of the Local Court, Will handled quite a bit of money from fees and
fines, and each month he made up the accounts, balanced the books, banked what
stayed with the Kadina Court, and sent off a bank cheque to the Central Court
in Adelaide for the amount due to them, and then he was required to sign a
declaration with his local magistrate testifying to all this. And he did this
religiously up to and including the Dec 1862 accounts, and on the fifth of
January 1863 the Central Court received their monthly remittance as per usual.
During the January of 1863, Will
collected, in addition to the local fees, £178-4-6 (we’re talking an equivalent
of about $70,000 today, hardly petty cash) on behalf of the Central Court, and
on the 5th of February he duly submitted his monthly accounts and his
declaration to the magistrate, stating that he’d sent it on by bank draft, in
the normal manner, to the Colonial Treasurer.
Within
a week some small alarm bells were tinkling, presumably when the Central Court
started asking where’s our money for the month, it seems to be late arriving,
is everything alright?
Due
to the tightness of these internal checks and balances, it was quickly clear
that something was amiss, and on the 14th of February 1863 Will was formally
suspended, although he was by then rather conspicuous by his absence, and the
21st of Feb issue of The SA Register reported…
We
understand that Mr W B Edmonds, the Clerk
of the Local Court at Kadina, has disappeared.
It is said that he is a defaulter to the Government,
and that a warrant is out for his apprehension.
At present there are no clues as to his whereabouts.
of the Local Court at Kadina, has disappeared.
It is said that he is a defaulter to the Government,
and that a warrant is out for his apprehension.
At present there are no clues as to his whereabouts.
…and
on the 22nd of Feb Will was arrested by a Trooper John Field at Leasingham
(just south of Clare) and taken to Auburn Police Station and charged, with The
Register (and by now every major paper in the other colonies) reporting it as…
EDMONDS
THE DEFAULTER. We understand that
W B Edmonds late Clerk of the Local Court at Kadina,
who absconded under a charge of embezzlement, has
been arrested at Auburn by Police Trooper Field.
W B Edmonds late Clerk of the Local Court at Kadina,
who absconded under a charge of embezzlement, has
been arrested at Auburn by Police Trooper Field.
It’s hard to tell just from the paper’s
subsequent court reporting, but maybe these can be read as Will being genuinely
surprised to be confronted, as he asked the trooper at the time what authority
he had to arrest him. So, was Will really doing a bolt? Godknows he must’ve
realised that all this would be the natural course of events as soon as the
non-arrival of the Bank Draft in Adelaide was confirmed, and his blatantly
false declaration checked.
When
Will was searched by the trooper, he had on him “… a cheque for £1-17-l1, a
promissory-note for £21-10-0, an agreement dated March l861 signed J. M.
Cameron, a receipt from J. Boor for £10, an IOU from B. Bates for £3-18-l1, a
memorandum of figures, a summons issued against W. B. Edmonds for £35-4-0 dated
November 1862, a £1 note and 6/- in silver (since spent on the prisoner), a
small silver watch, and a pocket-knife...”
Short
of stabbing the odd passing kangaroo with the pocket knife, this collection
hardly suggests a desperate felon on the run, but can be better interpreted as
him frantically trying to sort out his finances in the 8-10 day window he had
before the world fell on him from a great height, because he believed that by
some outstanding miracle he could actually put the cash back in time. Or even
some of it. As an act of good faith(!). And so he was actually tearing off down
to Leasingham chasing money owed to him. Or maybe not. It was £178 after all.
And what the hell had he done with it anyway? There’s no suggestion he made
even partial restitution.
So,
was this temporary insanity, complete arrogance, or mind-numbing stupidity?
Surely another round of bankruptcy would’ve been marginally more appealing than
the sure and certain consequences of not actually pulling THIS option off?!
Four days after his arrest, Will was up
before his own Kadina Magistrate for a preliminary hearing of statements (again
all reported at length in the press), which resulted in him being “…charged
with embezzling certain moneys amounting to £178-4s-6d, belonging to the Crown,
and committed … to take his trial at the next Criminal Sessions of the Supreme
Court of the colony.” You can only imagine how this must have impacted the
family – living in a small country town, son-in-law the local Bank Manager, a
son in the Post Office. What on earth would’ve
possessed the man to DO this?
Will’s trial was on Thursday 14th May
1863…
SUPREME
COURT ADELAIDE - REGINA v W. B. EDMONDS.
The prisoner, who had pleaded guilty to a
charge of
embezzlement, was brought up to receive
his sentence.
Having pleaded guilty, all the defence
could do was present character witnesses, have Will try to give SOME
explanation for his actions, and hope for the best. It was never going to have
a happy ending…
“…
Mr C. E. Tidemann … had known the prisoner for three years ... had always known
him to bear a high character for honesty... Henry Robinson had known the
prisoner for above twenty years… would have had no hesitation in recommending
him to any place of trust in the colony... W. E. Burton had known the prisoner
for twenty-three years, and had always taken him to be trustworthy and honest…”
“A statement … the prisoner
explained the temptations which led to the commission of the crime — the
smallness of his salary and its inadequacy to support himself and his family
... that he had accepted the situation under the impression that it would not
absorb all his time, but he would be afforded an opportunity of earning money
in addition to it.”
“His Honor said it was very painful
to see a man like the prisoner in such a position as he then stood. He had born
a high character for years, in fact the very circumstance of his having been
entrusted with public property showed that his previous character had been
honest and trustworthy. But so far from that being an extenuation, he thought
when a person took advantage of his good name to defraud those who put
confidence in him, it was rather an aggravation of the offence, and called for
heavier punishment … did not think he would be discharging his duty if he
assigned the prisoner imprisonment with hard labour for less than the term of
three years; that therefore, was the sentence of the Court.”
Three
Years Hard (and More Skullduggery)
Three years hard in the Stockade. Will was
47 and this was not the Adelaide Gaol. This was out at the new labour prison at
Yatala where they had their very own quarry and breaking rocks was the order of
the day. Will and his family must have been gutted.
But this was not the end of this minor colonial drama. There was one more twist in the tale.
But this was not the end of this minor colonial drama. There was one more twist in the tale.
Two weeks after the trial, a chancer by
the name of Alfred Phelps Jones borrowed a horse from a Henry Aldersley at
Noarlunga, on the understanding it was to be returned by noon the next day. His
story was that it had been teed up by Will’s son John and son-in-law Edward
Dutton, because Phelps “…said he was going round to obtain the signatures of
magistrates to a document to get the elder Edmonds removed from the Stockade to
the Gaol, on account of his health.”
This may (or may not) have been Phelps’
very best of intentions, but after three or four days and no horse, the owner
got nervous, checked with Edward Dutton who denied everything, and went for the
troopers.
It
seems that Phelps actually rode the horse up to Adelaide, stayed at a Stepney
pub, left the mare in the care of the publican, and asked him “… to sell her
for whatever she would fetch...”, apparently to cover the pub bill and
stabling. But he then borrowed £2 (best part of $800) from the publican, with a
story that he worked for a local law firm, although the publican was in haste
to add that (while not explaining why he handed over the £2) the £2 was quite
separate from the sale of the horse.
Phelps
then moved on to The Thistle Inn in Waymouth St and its publican John Cave,
“…and said that he had just seen his (Cave's) old friend Edmonds, with his hair
cut and his whiskers shaved, ready to start for the Stockade… [and that Phelps]
was a guard at the Gaol, and professed an anxiety to serve Edmonds... [and so
Cave] lent him a great-coat, as it was a wet night. Next day the prisoner
returned the great-coat, and spoke of getting up a document to save Edmonds
from being sent to the Stockade. He said also that he wanted to purchase some
little luxuries for Edmonds, and asked (Cave) for the loan of £1, which he
would repay the next day, as his pay would then become due… [so Cave] lent him
the £1 solely on the strength of his representing that he was a guard at the
Gaol… [Phelps then] gave him an I.O.U. for the £1, signed 'J. S. Thompson.'
I have no idea if they managed to keep
Will out of The Stockade or not (or even if he finished up with any “little
luxuries”), but I suspect they didn’t.
And what of Beth during these hard times?
Did she move to Adelaide so she could visit Will easier? Or stay on in Kadina
and tough it out? My guess is that she stayed, as Will Jr was still in his job
at the PO, Annie and the bank manager were about to have their first child (in
June 1863), and daughter Ruth, now 19, was still at home.
In these years that Will was doing his
time, the fortunes of the rest of the greater Edmonds family were also somewhat
varied.
The
Dutton’s were doing well, achieving everything that Will had ever aspired to
but couldn’t manage. In 1863 they wound up the small operation in Noarlunga and
lived at the Yankallila property for a short time, but in 1864, with John
Edmonds running the Yankallila brewery, they moved further south and set up a
major brewery in Goolwa.
Back in Wiltshire things weren’t going all
that well, as in 1865 older brother Ezekiel went bankrupt and was having a
struggle to get back on his feet, while at home Will Jr was actually doing
alright and was promoted to Assistant Operator, and Dutton expanded into the
meat trade, setting up also as a butcher.
But
on the other hand, for the Bank Manager son-in-law William Fisher, things were
going sour.
Late
in 1865 he’d had a small fire in the bank, and as an indirect consequence, in
Feb 1866 he declared himself bankrupt. He’d discovered that the bank accounts
were missing about £400, and he already owed too much around town to make up
the shortfall. Not quite sure of the connection but he opted for Insolvency
because of this. But then a full bank audit discovered that the books hadn’t
been kept properly. Oh, and in fact the bank was really about £1,000 (that’s
$400,000 !!) short.
William
Fisher was sacked and then put through the Insolvency wringer, during which it
also came out that he’d sort of ‘borrowed’ some bank cash short term, partly to
try to keep the creditors at bay, and partly because of the loss of personal
furniture in the fire. And also that he’d incurred some fresh debts at a time
when he was reasonably certain he couldn’t meet them. And he also proposed that
during the whole bank-on-fire hullabaloo with people rushing in and out to
help, maybe he saw someone walk out the bank maybe holding a cash box, that
maybe could have had the missing money in it!
Amazingly
(although maybe not, as he was fortunately well connected to some serious
colonial Fisher heavyweights) he came out of all this with a 10/- in the £1
Insolvency washup, and a terribly hurtful rap over the knuckles from the beak
for not keeping the bank’s books very well. And walked away. (How the hell does
that work?).
The
End Days
In
about mid 1866 Will was finally released from gaol, but you would have to think
he would’ve been by then a broken man, and there is no record of where he and
Beth and unmarried daughter Ruth lived for the next year or two, although Will
Jr stayed on in Kadina, while John was still in Yankalilla, although the
Fishers seemed to have temporarily disappeared.
But by mid 1868 the Fishers had
re-surfaced and moved down to Strathalbyn, and by late 1869 Will Jr was there
too, having transferred to the local PO and got himself promoted to Junior
Telegrapher, while Will and Beth and Ruth were by then in Goolwa, presumably
being supported by Dutton patronage, quite possibly Will working for Dutton in
some capacity in the brewery.
Dutton
was by now well established – he had become a JP and a district councillor for
Pt Elliot and Goolwa – and making serious money from meat and “…Duttons
celebrated XX and XXX ale… [and] Duttons well known prize beer on draught…
renowned for its quality… [and] large amounts of it were sent up the Rivers
Murray, Darling, and Murrumbidgee, even as far as Wilcannia. Dutton's ‘River
Murray Brewery’ was capable of producing 36 hogsheads of beer a week… the water
is generally procured from the River Murray and… the brewery originally
consisted of 3 buildings, two of which remain, built of travertine limestone
with walls 18” thick…”
 |
| The once Dutton's Brewery at Goolwa, now units |
So, for a brief time in 1870 all of the
Edmonds/Dutton/Fisher clan were pretty much together in the southern districts,
and surely must have been contemplating a quieter, steadier, and more secure
life.
But
this was not to last, as on the first of August 1870 Will had a fatal heart
attack at his son-in-law’s home in Goolwa, bringing to an end the chequered
life of this South Australian colonial pioneer.
Will
died intestate and left nothing of material value. He was just 53.
His
death certificate describes him simply as “Gentleman”, and his notice in the
paper includes the request “Wiltshre papers please copy”, but the Edmonds
family was by then all but gone from Bradford anyway.
Today
Will lies in an unmarked grave in the Currency Creek cemetery.
Widowhood
Beth
(and probably Ruth) stayed on in Goolwa with the Dutton’s – who had two small
children by then, as did the Fishers, although William Fisher was soon to
re-emerge in Palmerston (now Darwin) of all places, in the new Trans-Atlantic
Telegraph Station. It was also about then that John, now in his early-mid 20s,
took the position of bookkeeper up on a sheep station in the mid north, and
Dutton soon put the Yankalilla brewery on the market, to concentrate on his
activities in Goolwa.
Surely by now Beth – she would’ve been 50
– must have been struggling with the way the young dreams and aspirations of
her life had turned out, and yet it was far from finished with her.
Barely a year after Will’s death, Beth’s
youngest – Will Jr, only 22 – was losing his battle with tuberculosis, and on
the 25th of Sept 1871, accepting that the end was at hand, he made out his
will, naming his mum as sole beneficiary (of his unspecified estate), and
Dutton as executor. It was witnessed by William Fisher. On the following day
Will Jr died at Strathalbyn, and was buried beside his father at Currency
Creek.
This
must have been a terrible time for Beth, and there is some suggestion that she
and her daughter Ruth may have left Goolwa for a while, possibly to be with
John – who was still single – up on the sheep station at Minburra.
John
married in the January of 1874, and was made manager of the place, and it seems
that his sister Ruth then attached herself to John and his soon-growing family,
but it’s unclear where Beth was for the few years that followed, but when the
Duttons sold up all their brewing and other interests in Goolwa in 1877, Beth
went with them to their new pastoral property ‘Ardune’, near Lucindale in the
south-east.
 |
| 'Ardune' today, at Lucindale |
It
was there at ‘Ardune’ in the August of 1877 that yet more tragedy was to visit
Beth’s life, learning that her daughter Annie had died way up at Palmerston,
aged only 34, where “…a large number of our citizens turned out early on
Wednesday morning to follow the remains of Mrs. Fisher to her last resting
place (and) great sympathy was expressed, as the lady had many friends…”
Beth must have been devastated. She had
the Duttons and their three children around her, but her remaining family was
by then fragmented, with two now motherless grandchildren way off in the NT,
and two more up in the mid north.
Little more is evident of Beth’s time
after that, until April 1880, when someone signing themselves “BA” put a poem
in her scrapbook – it reads a bit like it was the local vicar? – the
last-but-one that would be added, and possibly meant to help her cope with her
burdens.
Go
drink of the pleasures that this world gives,
And
taste of its earthly love,
But
remember at times to lift thine eyes,
In
the midst of them all, to the things above.
But it’s the very last entry that I find
quite poignant, It’s dated June 1880 and is signed “Bessie”, which has to be
her grand-daughter Elizabeth Fisher, now 17, although I don’t know what events
place her at ‘Ardune’ at that time, possibly boarding in Adelaide while she was
doing her schooling -
- To My Grandmother -
You
are not young as once you were,
When
your life was not so full of care,
When
your young life was full of joy,
And
happiness without alloy,
But
in whatever stage of life you be,
Let
this be your fond hope of firm decree –
“Dominius
Probidebit”
You
left your friends and happy home,
O’er
the dark blue sea to roam,
To
a world known but to a few,
But
there was only one fore you,
And
he was brave and by your side,
And
you and he together cried –
“Dominius
Probidebit”
Your
youth is passed and on your brow
The
marks of age are showing now,
You’ve
formed new ties more dear than those
In
childhood’s days and youth’s repose,
Your
children learn the words so true,
Ever
loved and dear to you –
“Dominius
Probidebit”
In about 1881 Beth’s son John took up the
management of the huge Comongin cattle station in south-west Queensland (near
Quilpie), and moved there with his family, taking his sister Ruth with them,
"...travelling by boat to Brisbane, by train to Roma (480 km) which was
the end of the line, and then bullock wagon to Comongin Stn (650 km) near
Thargomindah (and they) must have carried a fair quantity of gear to have
needed a bullock wagon ..."
For two more years their various lives
ticked over well enough, Beth presumably well settled into the local culture of
the Lucindale area, until in the January of 1883 one last tragic piece of news
was received, that Ruth had died up at Comongin. She was just 39.
In her 45 years in the colony Beth had
lost both her parents, her husband, and three of her five adult children, and
had been through the stresses of two full bankruptcies, and the whole business
of Will’s embezzlement, trial, and gaol. This was a woman who had seen more
than her fair share of hardship.
On the last day of October in 1884, Beth
caught the coastal shipping service schooner Flinders at Lacepede Bay
(Kingston) and sailed up to Adelaide. While Dutton used these ‘commuter’ craft
many times, as a passenger and for freight, there’s no suggestion anywhere that
Beth ever had before, or why she did on this occasion. All I know is that
there’s no record of her returning to ‘Ardune’, and in early 1885 she was
living in Musgrave St in Goodwood, which was (and still is) no more than a
quiet collection of modest suburban brick cottages.
It
was here in Goodwood, in the April of 1885 that Beth became ill, and died of
dysentery. There is no evidence that any of her family were with her. She was
buried in the West Terrace cemetery, but today her plot is marked with someone
else’s stone, apparently having been resumed many years ago.
And so another small, and until now
unmarked, colonial saga came to a close.
Unbeknown
to them, this pair of battlers had created the beginnings of another small
Australian family dynasty, but like so many early emigrant settlers, are
uncelebrated in history and have no epitaph in death. Other than Edmonds,
Dutton, and Fisher descendants by a variety of names, they left nothing but the
collection of facts that make up this story. And Beth’s wonderful scrapbook.
It’s the scrapbook I love the best.
* * *
And what of the successful Duttons?
Edward Dutton died young-ish, at ‘Ardune’,
in 1887, but he had by then established quite a wealthy estate. His wife (Will
& Beth’s eldest) Mary Elizabeth, stayed on there until 1905, then sold up
and moved to ‘Ferndale’ in Beaumont – purchased from the late Sir Samuel
Davenport's estate – where she remained, with her only single daughter,
Elizabeth, till Mary’s death in 1934, leaving eight grand children and two
great-grandchildren.
And the widower William Fisher and his two
daughters? -
The two girls married in SA and appear to
have lived out their lives in SA, while their father William drifted off into
obscurity and died in Adelaide in 1910.
Which leaves the only Edmonds-by-name, the
(one-handed) son John Hinton, and his wife Mary Louisa Puplett. Their story
comes next.
* * *