JOURNAL OF A TOUR TO SPREAD THE WORD ON SEPARATION 1856
Herewith a tale of the adventures of the
intrepid traveller William Ridley.
In early colonial Queensland, travel journals were a common feature of
newspaper columns. These articles were
the travel guides of the day, providing information on road conditions,
accommodation, local characters, and highlights of the landscape and fauna and
flora.
Rev. Ridley |
William Ridley (1819-1878) was an English-born Presbyterian minister
who was recruited by the Reverend Dr. J. D. Lang. He arrived at Sydney in 1850.
In the colonies he attempted to set up an Anglican Aboriginal institution which
ultimately failed. In 1857 he travelled to Moreton Bay to assist his mentor Dr.
Lang with his efforts to create a separate colony of Queensland by separation
from New South Wales.
Armed with the petition for separation, Ridley’s journey did not start
well. He managed to lose two horses in
as many days.[1]
Early sketch of Kangaroo Point Brisbane 1860s |
8th-Set out early from Kangaroo Point for Ipswich, on a
mare belonging, with the equipment, to the Rev. Dr. Lang, and left by him with
his usual patriotic readiness to do or sacrifice anything in his power for the
advancement of Australia.
9th.-I left Ipswich early, and rode by way of Flinder's
Peak Station to Dugandan on the Teviot, one of the heads of the Logan.
Early view of Dugandan |
The mare, whether from being unused to work in the heat
of a Moreton Bay summer, or some other cause, seemed through the day
unaccountably languid. At the Peak Station, where I remained three hours during
the hottest part of the day, she swam four times across a deep waterhole; and
when, turned out at night in the paddock at Dugandan, lay down and died.
Putting the mare’s demise down to its lack of use in the summer heat, Ridley
was loaned a replacement horse by the station owner. So mounted, the intrepid Reverend
pressed onwards with his quest accompanied by an aboriginal man who would as a
guide to the next station.
Here in his journal he unashamedly boasts of the reach of his
missionary endeavours, noting that Jemmy has already heard of his work and has a
basic grasp of Christian cosmology.
I found Jemmy Murphy remarkably well informed for an
aboriginal. He had been taught and remembered correctly several elementary
facts concerning the origin of the human race, and concerning the Creator and
Ruler of all mankind. Though he had never seen me before he had heard of my
endeavours to instruct his fellow-country men, and said he wished he lived near
me that he might learn more.
View of the Logan River |
Reaching Meroon, the crusading reverend Ridley promptly borrowed yet
another horse and sets off following the Logan River to call on a squatter he
has been informed to a supporter of Separation.
Unfortunately the weather gods soon intervened.
Night came on before, I could reach the station I was in
search of; and just as daylight was vanishing a heavy thunder shower fell.
Unable to keep the track by the fitful lightning flashes, I was glad to take
refuge for an hour in a hut occupied by three Chinamen[2],
which I reached before the worst of the shower came.
Leaving the hospitable shepherds, the adventurous clergyman rode off into the night.
Afterwards "by the struggling moonbeams misty light"[3]
I went on for a mile or two; but after sliding down into a deep gully, across
which my path seemed to lie, I found it impossible to lead the horse up out of
it, so slippery were the banks with the rain. After many vain attempts, I
fastened him by the bridle to a tree, and, sticking my hands in the mud,
climbed up the bank and walked on for the station hoping to get a rope there to
pull out the horse it was further then I expected, six full miles, and to a
lonely and weary walker in a wet night every mile seemed very long.
Horseless once more, Ridley eventually approached his destination but was
forced to seek refuge from the farm dogs by climbing a tree.
Two farmhands finally rescue him and fetch the station owner who is
totally unfazed by the arrival of a sodden man of God in the middle of the
night.
About midnight I came in sight of the buildings; and
thinking it likely that at such an hour I might have rather a longer parley
with the watch-dogs than would be at all pleasant, before I could awaken the
hospitable inmates of the station. I climbed into a tree and
"cowered" until with the help of the vigilant canine sentinels, I
brought out two men from their sound repose. They soon awoke their master Mr.
Haly, who without any remark on the unseasonable hour at which I had disturbed
him, accommodated me with all the comforts a wet and weary traveller could
desire.
At dawn, Ridley and a farmhand return to the fateful gully to find the
borrowed horse has freed itself and bolted.
They decide not to search presuming that the horse will find its way
home.
Having submitted the petition to the consideration of the
gentleman I was in search of and preached at the station, where I had met such
a welcome reception after my long midnight ramble, I returned up the river to
Meroon; and thence to a cattle station on the same run; where at last, on
Friday evening (12th), I found the horse lost on Wednesday night. Mr. Preiss, the
overseer, entertained me not only with the usual hospitable cheer of the bush
but with intellectual refreshment.
Cedar Getters, New South Wales |
Travelling south into what is now the Northern Rivers Districts, the
Reverend find little support for his petition for separation of a new colony
north of the 22nd parallel, the line of latitude that passes near
the town of Grafton.
On first presenting the petition for Separation I met
with a good deal of indifference and opposition, and I was assured that the
people living lower down the river, being chiefly occupied in the cedar trade,
were to a man opposed to Separation, because they considered it would destroy
their business with Sydney, the chief and almost the only market for their
timber.
View of the Richmond River on a lantern slide |
Reaching the town of Casino, Ridley obtains another horse, this time actually purchasing it. Perhaps his reputation with borrowed horses preceded him. Continuing his tour, he boats down the Richmond River, bewitched by the exotic riverbanks.
The scenery on both sides of the Richmond is truly
enchanting. Close to the water's edge rises a complete wall of luxuriant
foliage: fig-trees, bean trees, pines, and a variety of other trees, stand
thickly set and overhung with rich drapery creepers, presenting the forms of
turrets, buttresses, festoons, and stalactites, in endless variety, and
bespangled with flowers and fruit. There is a purple convolvulus, wild roses,
tulips, and some yellow flowers scattered high and low; and close to the
water's edge a pure white lily. Cherries, figs and mulberries overhang the
water.
Caught in yet another stormy downpour, Ridley’s travelling party take
refuge with a local shopkeeper.
Mr. Thomas Barker, storekeeper, whose house we reached
just as he was going to rest, had suffered almost as much as we had by the
storm; for the cedar boards comprising the roof of his house had been so warped
by the sun that the rain which came with quite unusual force was driven into
all his rooms, and he could scarcely find a dry place for himself and his
family. But seeing strangers come in drenched from a boat, he re-kindled his
kitchen fire, treated us to a hot supper, and while we were recruiting our
strength and spirits, provided comfortable bedding for us.
While making his way to Grafton, Ridley unexpectedly meets two veterans
of the 1848 revolutions in Europe. Many of these so-called “48ers” fled Europe
after the revolts failed. Most settled
in the United States. Ridley record of
their meeting reveals his decidedly anti-monarchist sentiments.
The interest of my tour hitherto has been not a little
enhanced by meeting on the Logan and Richmond two of the patriot heroes of
Europe, who in 1848 shared the struggle and the triumphs of freedom, and in '49
witnessed with unavailing sorrow the reaction of despotism; one of them, a
Magyar, having been an officer in the army of Hungary, and entrusted with an
important mission by his chief; the other, a Hollander, having been elected by
the Germans in Switzerland as their representative in the Parliament of
Frankfort, where some of the noblest men in Europe made a gallant but
unsuccessful attempt to establish the unity and independence of Germany.
Great
is the honour conferred on Britain and her colonies that such men enjoy among
us that safety and liberty which are elsewhere denied them.
His tour ended in Grafton. Here
he found little support for his petition. Trade was too well established with
Sydney for the locals to risk the changes that separation might bring.
27th,-Reached the Clarence river at Grafton. The question
of Separation has been earnestly discussed here, and almost everyone is so
pledged for or against it, that little remains to be done in getting
signatures.
As the weather closes in again, Ridley opts to return to Sydney.
Jan. 2. Rain having fallen in abundance every one of the
five days, l remained in Grafton, the river was rising, and there was no
prospect of being able to travel, as I had intended, round by the head of the
Clarence to Moreton Bay within a reasonable time. I resolved on returning by
the steamer "Grafton" this day. After a speedy trip we reached Sydney on
Saturday evening, 3rd January.
The S.S. Grafton |
Postscript:
Separation of the Colony of Queensland was eventually achieved in 1859
but the Northern Rivers District remained in New South Wales.
The Reverend William Ridley had a long career as a Presbyterian
Minister until his death in 1875. He was
also a journalist and a prolific writer, and in 1866 published a study of
Aboriginal languages.[4]
His journals were published posthumously in 1892.[5]
Ministers of the Presbyterian church of Eastern Australia, 1862 |
©
K. C. Sbeghen, 2011.
[1]
All extracts are sourced from The Moreton Bay Courier 24.1.1857
[2]
Probably shepherds
[3]
From the popular poem “The Burial of Sir John Moore after Corunna” by Charles
Wolfe, 1791-1823:
We buried him darkly at
dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets
turning,
By the struggling
moonbeam's misty light
And the lanthorn dimly
burning.
[4] Kamilaroi,
Dippil, and Turrubul: Languages Spoken by Australian Aborigines (Sydney, 1866).
[5] Australian
Dictionary of Biography.
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