Elizabeth Macarthur's 1807 Diary

Early King map of Parramatta April 1790

2010-04-28T12:22:00.027+10:00

The King Sketch of Parramatta
New South Wales, April 1790

On the way to England carrying dispatches in April 1790, Captain Philip Gidley King sketched the early location of Parramatta, established since November 1788. In this sketch, the present site of Old Government House is at the bottom, and today's Westmead train station is at top left, indicated as a hill.

Henry Dodd is in charge of the farm at the bottom right of the sketch. In the painting below, Mr. Dodd's house is the nearest to the viewer, on the right of the pathway with the south-facing chimney, two windows and a door, and is known to have had two rooms.

The smoke in the foreground is from a brick-making kiln, and the bridge to Dodd's farm is seen in the mid-distance. It's a good crop, apparently, the serried rows of the grain crossing the cleared farm area.

In this enlarged view of Captain King's sketch the Redoubt for the Marines' battery and encampment is top left. Across the bridge from Dodd's farm is "the Crescent", the steep rise of the banks of the river that creates a distinct area still recognisable today; an extensive crop of grain - maize - can be seen growing across the flats below today's Old Government House. Below the flats are the convicts' huts, five in this part of the sketch and another five below those, each hut houses ten convict men, and someone to mind the hut and keep house; gardens surround the huts. In this painting, one can glimpse the huts' outlines between the trees in the distance.

7 October 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-10-07T20:15:00.001+10:00

The Martial Law declaration in Parramatta, January 26 1808.

The story ends today, dear readers, as the author moves on to other historical tales. Elizabeth plays a crucial role in the next few months leading to the great rebellion in Sydney and Parramatta against the rule of William Bligh, and goes on to play a very significant role in the development of the merino wool industry in Australia. Thanks to the readers of this story and my best wishes for the future. The Author.

6 October 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-10-06T16:59:00.000+10:00

Colonial Surgeon John Harris

I could have counted the ships the ships that called here between 1801 and 1805 on my two hands and it is still an occasion when a ship from Home arrives. Some of Mrs. Kingdon's letters have fallen apart in my hands from being read, and when Mr. Macarthur was away, I almost read Blackstone's Commentaries on English law! Given how infrequent good conversation can be had, it's surprising that more of us don't go entirely mad. Thank God for Mr. Harris, the wonderful scoundrel that he is.

Sometimes I hunger to read a good book that I've not read before; Mrs. Lucas brought a fine collection with her, including many in French and German. My favourite was always The Sorrows of Young Werther, and now I have the book in English and in German, and Mrs. Lucas is very patient with my German. I still long for a cheap and dreadful London tale though, and join the clamour to the Captains when a ship comes in, begging and bribing for any spare copies of the London magazines. And not only for the fashion, like some of my friends!

A woman's mind should be challenged or it stultifies in the everyday concerns: to avoid that, as much as for any reason, I love the sheep and the stud book. That said, however, a woman may extend herself too far as I fear I may have done, keeping this house and gardens, managing staff, looking after my unwell daughter, organising entertainments and the stud, and looking after Mr. Macarthur's interests also. That is quite a burden, and writing in this diary only helps me to be clear about those responsibilities when what I need is a sympathetic friend. I hoped Mrs. Putland could play that role, as Mrs. King had done to an extent, but the gap between what is right for this place and a Governor's orders make it hard for we wives and daughters to avoid the acrimony. Mrs. Putland has written me with her fulsome thanks for the party and hopes she may return the favour, and in the meantime can Elizabeth junior stay with her? If Elizabeth is well enough, she certainly can. Perhaps those two daughters may develop a friendship.

5 October 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-10-05T14:09:00.000+10:00

Mr. Harris' house.

Since Mrs. Putland's unfortunate experience on Sunday last, I fear the atmosphere of the Colony has changed. Serjeant Whittle reported that Mr. Bligh has compared the Corps unfavourably with the convicts and has threatened to use convicts as his Honour Guard - won't the Corps hate that! Our troubles are quiescent but beneath the surface I can feel them bubbling away. My friends in various places have reported that the Governor's dispatches include a strongly-worded request for the Corps to be removed; I know we have heard this before, even under Mr. King, but this may be different. I do feel if the Home Government had chosen anyone other than a Naval man, we may have avoided trouble - who knows?
The garden is blooming - several of the Indian Rhododendrons are in flower, with a mass of deep red blossoms - what a sight! The fruit trees have their small fruit - except the loquats which are covered in the yellow plums - proving this climate to be, as Mr. Harris claims, the most beneficial in the entire world.

4 October 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-10-04T15:35:00.000+10:00

The Parramatta Store

Trade and Government - the two would never have mixed once, but Mr. Campbell is a clever trader and has joined forces with Mr. Palmer in more ways than one. The Governor appears to believe that involving Government in retail selling will benefit ordinary people and in places far away, such as the Green Hills, it might but to the detriment of others. When the Colony was hardly able to feed itself, it was not Government that stood in and maintained a ready supply of necessaries; without the actions of the officers of the Corps to establish a market with ready money and supply that market with variety, there would be less prosperity than there is today.

However, one's diary should not be a place where one complains, but rejoices that life is good: Mr. Macarthur and I are the luckiest of people in that our concern for each other is undiminished, that our aspirations have largely been met and we respect each other - after nearly 20 years, what more would we want?

The heat and wind diminished greatly today, and I expect Elizabeth will be better tomorrow. John is back from our outlying farms and all is well there; I have cut asparagus from the garden today, along with great leeks - they will go well with a duck I bought from Banagaree, one of the young natives who live near here. She came this morning with the duck and was happy to exchange it for a length of twine and a dozen nails.

3 October 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-10-03T13:36:00.001+10:00

Many of the native men have their front tooth removed, for reasons unknown.

The weather, business, and the actions of government are the common topics of polite conversation, but the health of my family remains most important to me, especially with Elizabeth junior so poorly. We woke today to a blustery hot wind and something like an oven has developed as the day has gone on: plants in the garden wilt, and Elizabeth wilts also. Her chest fills with mucus and her breathing becomes laboured, and John believes she must exercise at such times but I can see that is beyond her. Within me a new life stirs - boy or girl, sick or healthy? My luck in birthing has not been great, with Edward born so poorly, but I'll keep trying to make them better - and my fine bonny son Edward is a testament that the poorly child can become the strongest man. I have seen Edward easily carry one of the Dorset rams and he rides as well as John - if only Elizabeth improves!
Every day we see the natives, at our door or when moving around the farm: the men invariably have their front tooth missing and Mr. Macarthur has been to the ceremony when this takes place - nine days of ceremonies culminate in the tooth removal.

2 October 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-10-02T15:03:00.000+10:00

The amazing ceremonies of the Natives - this is the most serious occasion when young men become men, called the Erah-ba-diang.

Without trade and business this Colony will wither and die: that has always been so. When we first arrived, the Colony was near starving, and the ration which had been universally shared was so poor that no work could be done. It was John that brought the cartel into being that chartered the Dolphin in '92 to bring the supplies that saved the Colony from ruin and such trade has been our saviour again and again. And yet Authority has no idea that such measures are not for the enrichment of the participants, who after all bear all the risk, but the advancement of this place and the saviour of its inhabitants. "No thought for the future" could be Government's motto, even after last year's disastrous floods, when no thought for the price of grain or the feeding of the flocks was given, so that now we face the highest prices in our history, which could easily have been avoided by a ship to Africa or India.
Now we face a blockage by the Company of all trade to China, even in goods the Company doesn't have to sell! We have been informed that our sandal-wood from the Feejees is not to be taken to China under any circumstances, so we shall have the sweetest fires in Christendom later this month when we expect the Parramatta to return with its load.

John's counsel to the children is just: Always do what you are afraid to do!

1 October 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-10-01T07:07:00.000+10:00

Some of us have recent fashions, some are quite out of fashion, yet the ball was a success nevertheless.

"How is business?", is the commonest greeting among a certain class of people here - the class to which we now belong. Opportunity may be responded to, or ignored, and Mr. Macarthur has very properly determined that a two-handed response brings the greatest benefit, and the greatest risks. On this we do not disagree - I support John's business ventures and wish him well in them all. We now own two good ships, one of which is sailing to Tahiti to collect the rare wood that grows there which is worth more than gold, when taken to China, and the other is returning to England, filled with oil and skins from the seal fishery, and some bales of our wool. We were so far caught by surprise with the seal fishery that John did not bring any lamps with him from England, so we still use candles in the main house and slush lights elsewhere. As well, John has shares in three more ships engaged in trade and fishing; we also have a shop in Sydney, although we might let that go soon. The Governor has permitted Mr. Palmer to expand the stores, in Sydney, at Green Hills and here in Parramatta, so they have as wide a range of goods as the people need, and they pay so little for their staff that it seems they will sell cheaper than we ever can. Mr. Palmer's sister has married Mr. Campbell, and Mr. Campbell has brought his nephew here, so a dynasty is forming. Such a shame that they cannot talk of anything but trade!
My circle is quite small - yet it was only a year or two ago, it seems, that eighteen ladies could gather for a very civilised lunch, while today there are less than a handful who can meet, and I am forced to rely on Mr. Harris for general gossip, Mr. Caley for scathing comment, and my little network of friends for all the other information I need to protect our interests! I hope Mrs. Patterson comes back soon, as it must be tiresome in van Diemen's land - still, she is with her husband and that is something. We couples must stick together.
Mr. Macarthur returned from the Seven Hills last night and today is away again to the Cowpastures: the sheep at the Seven Hills had been isolated by the rain, unwilling to cross the flooded stream to their shelters, but other than two or three lambs that appear to have been lost, all is fine. I hope to go there on Friday, to review the arrangements at that place. The bridge here that crosses the River, near where the Governor has granted Mrs. Putland her land, wasn't washed away but has lost several supports and must be repaired: in the past we have waited months for such work, but I understand that a gang is already there and the timbers are being cut as I write, so having Mrs. Putland as a neighbour has many benefits.
The Campbells and Palmers have invited Elizabeth junior and I to dinner tomorrow, and with John away, I'll accept their invitation.

30 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-30T09:01:00.000+10:00

The little village atop Brickfield's Hill.

What am I to make of this place? Have freedom and dignity left our paths forever and retired into the forests with the miserable natives? Convicts, criminals, scoundrels mingle and mix, and not only in the prisoners' barracks. Solitude, our own farm, these are the refuges that I seek.
Yesterday's rain ceased early enough for the ground to dry, but I wasn't sure about the River and we foresook the boat to take the carriage home. It's an uncomfortable way to travel, although it is a high-wheeled coveyance, because the road is terrible, only wide enough for one vehicle. Unlike the Governor, I have no out-riders, only my reputation here for fifteen years, and the sure knowledge that whether criminal or free, or native, everyone knows me and, I sincerely hope, thinks of me in a positive manner rather than otherwise.
The road from Sydney runs South down High Street before turning West and heading to Parramatta, climbing first the Brickfield's Hill, then meandering over hill and down dale past some wild scrub, until reaching the bridge over the Duck's River, and we then turn to the North to come at the Farm. Several people have reported concerns along the way, with the bushes concealing escaped convicts and several tribes of natives, althought these latter live nearer to the Sands at Arrowanally, where there is fresh water and food in plenty.
Our journey was without mishap, except that we were bogged for some time on the Brickfield Hill and waited until sufficient men had returned to the work, to assist us to the top. Home now - I was right in not trying to sail home, as the River is raging near here and we would have had a hard walk from near the Sands to the Farm.
The rain is good for the Farm, with spring growth everywhere - the peaches are a mass of flowers, as are the quince, the apples and pears. The cherry trees have finished blossoming and their fruit is setting, but the tiny bees that live here struggle to polinate those trees and we get little fruit from them. The loquats, whose blossom filled our valley with their perfume eight weeks ago, are yellow on their branches and will be the first fruits of the season - already today I have eaten a dozen or more!
The wet weather suits Elizabeth junior and keeps her chest clear. However, I am sick with worry after Sunday's diabolical fiasco - I really feel I should take to bed and stay there. I wrote a brief note for Mary Putland today and, along with a few dozen of our early loquats and some bunches of radishes, sent it to her on the afternoon packet - I do hope she is bearing up.
John and Edward arrived home yesterday and immediately set out again, to the Seven Hills were they'd heard the stream had broken the banks and washed across the sheep paddocks; we've recently moved the Dorset rams there and may God have preserved them.

29 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-29T06:33:00.000+10:00

Some of our friends on the harbour shores.

As if the weather knows about the turmoil in the Colony, I woke today to the crashing of thunder and an enormous downpour of rain. We had intended returning to Parramatta this morning by boat, but the River will be in flood and too unsafe for that journey. The alternative of travelling in the coach is awful to contemplate, with the road full of mud and crossed by strong streams in several places, so the girls and I will stay in Pyrmont and let Mr. Macarthur, Edward and Hannibal return on their horses: we will follow later in the week. I am now torn by a desire to reassure Mrs. Putland that she must disregard the jibes of the private soldiers, but John is certain that leaving the Governor alone is the best option for all of us Colonists, to avoid being tarred by the same brush.
Being in town means I have so little to do, and I was looking forward to getting back to the farm. Instead, I will try to enjoy some time here, perhaps even lay out some more garden given that it is spring, if the rain eases. We only grow a small garden here, mostly fruit trees overlooking the harbour, with some green growing at the rear of the house. Water is difficult to procure in Town - there is a hole in the rock that we call our "well", and it supplies some garden water, sufficient for the fruit trees, and we have a lovely spring that John has piped to the house, but it flows slowly, only filling a tank for the household needs.
Given I have so little to do, I wonder where the time of day has gone? Already the afternoon has passed, the candles are lit and I am preparing our evening meal - I'd sent the cooks home after the ball. A native whom I've not seen before brought fish and fruit bats - I took the fish, in exchange for a pannikin filled with flour. It is that fish we call Perch, but he named it "wuggara", and he said of it "balu patta", which means that it eats well, or "good eating". A tall young man - perhaps he has come from the other side of the harbour - we don't see the folk from that side over here often, as there is great animosity between those people and the natives here.

27 September 1807, Sunday, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-27T13:40:00.000+10:00

All the Colony is in uproar today - honestly, the behaviour of some of the Corps is scandalous and both Mr. Macarthur and I blame the officers. There is one young private - Faithfull is his name - whom John has had quite a lot to do with over the years. He is rather simple and will never rise above being a private soldier, and unfortunately he is not the sort of whom one says "they are doing their best". The opposite, rather.
The Church at Sydney remains unfinished and in the abscence of Mr. Marsden it may remain so, as Mr. Fulton lacks the wherewithal to marshall help, other than on the Governor's orders, and frankly there are so few convicts still under sentence available to help, so Church is held in the Orphan's School in Bridge Street, or at the Granary, depending on the numbers expected to attend. Of course, we held our ball during the week so Mr. Macarthur, Hannibal, the girls and I have remained in Sydney and attended Church this morning at the Granary, a very commodious if unpleasant building, and it was made the more unpleasant by the actions of the Corps.
Hannibal and John joined the Governor for breakfast, while Mrs. Putland entertained Elizabeth, Mary and I on the lawns for an al-fresco, and after that we Macarthur's walked across town to Church, while the Governor and Mrs. Putland took their coach. We were already inside when they arrived, but we distinctly heard some form of rucus as the Governor and Mrs. Putland made their way into Church. What happened, I have since discovered, is that Private Faithfull, who has been mooning over Mrs. Putland from afar, became agitated when he saw her dressed in the latest London fashion, of a diaphanous dress over pantaloons. The dress is a marvel to behold, of a sky blue of fine muslin, fully fitted in the body and billowing below - Mrs. Putland told me there are eleven yards of muslin in the skirt. Certainly on first seeing this fashion one may be somewhat taken aback, but that is no affair for a soldier.
One of Faithfull's colleagues, seeing his agitation, stuck a feather in Faithfull's cap, which further agitated the man, and in a moment the entire platoon was playing the fool, guffawing at Faithfull and, consequently, at Mrs. Putland. When Mary heard their guffaws, she turned to them and something happened: something that none of us really saw, but the next moment she had collapsed to the floor, and her father was by her side, bellowing for air and quite beside himself. He had seen the tom-foolery and was extremely upset, but his first concern was for his daughter, as was mine. In a moment we had Mary taken outside, the carriage was called, and she and I, along with the girls, hurried back to Government House.
Meanwhile at the Church, assured that Mrs. Putland had suffered a fainting spell after the foolish behaviour of members of the Corps, the Governor had called their Lieutenant to explain. Some stupid tale was put forth about the feather, and Governor Bligh, enormously angry, was restrained by Mr. Macarthur from striking the adjutant. What a catastrophe!
Mrs. Putland recovered once in the carriage, but she is also tremendously upset - to think that the Governor is not free to attend Church, goes against the natural order. In a moment the triumphs of the week are overturned and we move back to the first square, with civil society an unreachable goal perhaps.

26 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-26T18:47:00.000+10:00

The rather strange Flying Opossum, who carries her young in a pouch.

Elizabeth's diary will be back shortly - the author is taking a short break, after the talk at Elizabeth Farm last week. I was told that they raised $400 from admission to my talk.

25 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-25T13:58:00.001+10:00

The sands at Arrowannally, at the head of Port Jackson.

Readers - Elizabeth will be back with her diary soon. The author.

24 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-24T13:52:00.000+10:00

Dancing at the Ball.
The ball was a total success, quite the finest occasion seen in New South Wales since - well, since anything I suppose. More, much more, later.

23 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-23T20:14:00.000+10:00

A view over Parramatta

The arrangements for the ball are advancing well; only the tiny sweet cakes and tarts prove difficult to procure, and we will make do with lesser fare. The house at Pyrmont is excellent for entertaining, very open in the dining room and library, a lovely large room at the end of the house and this opens out to the garden that is the greatest asset. September can be cool at night, but it has been warm so far and I hope it will stay so. Soldiers find their service uniform and dress uniform very warm in this climate, and where possible they are encouraged to leave off all of their accroutrements, but for a ball they dress to the nines and make quite a display. How unfortunate for them that there are few eligible ladies to peacock for; even so, I have never known a soldier to lose the chance of showing off, even if to a wall!

The food we serve is just like at home, apart from the very delicate items found at the best places. I have an enormous punch bowl that we will fill near to overflowing, and a seven tiered stand for the large cakes, which we cut and serve on plates. There is very little decent ham here, although we all keep pigs - apart from technique there are certain spices that we just cannnot procure. In place, we dry thinly sliced beef in the air and serve that, to everyone's delight. We also have tremendous quantities of butter and cream, so i will serve Scots scones in honour of Mr. Macarthur, with a lovely jam made from a local fruit. And of course the wonderful oysters that abound in the harbour will be gathered by the sackful and served au natural, which is how they taste best.

Elizabeth is well enough to attend - she was more devated by the thought of missing the evening than she was by her por health!

22 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-22T20:31:00.000+10:00

I've been so busy with the arrangements for our ball - but, dear diary, I will not neglect you soon. Until tomorrow then.

20 September 2007, by David Povey

2007-09-20T13:19:00.000+10:00

A view of Sydney, also by Eyre, 1806, showing the strange amalgam of Town and bush - the "wild" was not very far away.

Tomorrow, Friday September 21 2007, this paper will be read to a meeting of the Friends of Elizabeth Farm, at Rosehill near Parramatta. Elizabeth's diary recommences after that.

I would like to acknowledge the Dharug, Burrogarang, Kurringai and Gandungarra people who lived on this land before we came here and whose spirits and children still live here.

Twenty years before 1807, the population of Sydney numbered around 4000 Dharug, Burrogarang, Kurringai, and Gandungarra people, living in family and clan units around the shores of Botany Bay, Sydney Harbour and through to the mountains behind. In the next twenty years thousands of men and women were brought to Sydney, and by 1807 there are an additional 7000 people living in the locality, comprising 1350 women, 1600 children, and 3700 men. 1800 men and 150 women came free or with the Military and Civil establishment, and counted along with the Children, that means one half of the newly arrived population is not from the prison, and one half is. There are less than 1100 convicts still serving their sentences since few convicts, settlers or stores arrived at the heights of the European war 1801 to 1805, and many convicts are now time expired or conditionally pardoned by the year under review. Additionally there were one or two hundred assorted sailors in port. So to describe the Colony in 1807 as a "penal colony" or penal anything is a mis-nomer, although the assumption that the place was only that, confused the administrators of the Colony. In so many ways the Colony was an unusual place - the idea that a new nation was being born was felt strongly by many of the inhabitatants.

And these were times when heroes roamed the Colony such as Benelong, Arthur Phillip, John Macarthur, Governor Hunter, Colonel Paterson, Governor King, Governor Bligh, Samuel Marsden, Elizabeth Macarthur, Baranga-roo, Abar-oo, Col-bee, Nan-bar-ee, Mrs. King, Mrs. Marsden, Mrs. Johnson, Reverend Johnson, Colonel Johnston, Carnambaygal, Pemulway. Heroes in any age, these men and women were joined by lesser lights no less famous, the pick pocket of the age George Barrington, fancy women, knaves and missionaries to the South Seas, one of whom, George Oakes, is our hero, and two esteemed families, the Palmers and Campbells, whose matriarchs and patriarchs are interred here at St John's; George Caley, a Yorkshire botanist who lived in Governor Phillip's first house here in Parramatta; and as well, those operating from afar, like Sir Joseph Banks, King George and the Lords, Administrators and Judges who established the Colony and sentenced the thousands of convicts who made up our original stock.

A Note about sources: This period is well covered by secondary sources, and there are excellent primary records for much of the activity covered here. We even have the private correspondence of selected individuals commenting on the action.

I have used Alan Atkinson's assessment of the period from his Europeans in Australia and Ross Fitzgerald's and Mark Henson's Bligh, Macarthur and the Rum Rebellion . Also Michael Duffy's fresh Man of Honour, an interpretation of Macarthur's life until the Rebellion, and of course Malcolm Ellis' John Macarthur. I have made use of G. D. Wood's History of Criminal Law in New South Wales and David Day's Smugglers and Sailors , a history of the Customs Service from 1788.

An important element illuminated by the history of the Customs Service concerns the sources of revenue for the Government of NS Wales. Only three possible means of revenue were available to the Governor of the Colony: Treasury Notes drawn on the Government in England, for which the Governor was fully accountable and abuse of which led England to withdraw Governor King, the relevant minister believing King extravagant; another source of revenue was fines levied by a Court in the jurisdiction, and finally by duties laid on all incoming produce of whatever kind. The money raised from this last duty was allowed only for the Orphan Fund, and was raised from all product landed at Sydney Harbour from 1798 onwards. The money raised by duty amounted to 1500 English pounds a year in 1798 to nearly 4000 pounds by 1807. The Fund was large enough to buy Captain Kent's house, the biggest in Sydney, for more than 2000 pounds in 1801, to become the Orphan School. The Funds also financed the bridge along Bridge Street, the new orphanage at Parramatta and the looms at the Female Factory.

Apart from these landing duties, Court fines could also be a considerable income. The three emancipist Sydney traders, Simeon Lord, Henry Kable and James Underwood were goaled by Governor Bligh, for one month each for transferring goods between vessels tied at Sydney wharf, against the regulations. The traders were also fined one hundred English pounds each, an amount equal to nearly ten percent of the port duties for the year. These amounts were important to the cash-strapped Governor, if only as inducements to his friends.

From 1500 pounds a year during William Balmain's time to more like 4000 pounds for John Harris, the office of Naval Officer, or chief customs collector became highly sought-after, given that 15% of the amount raised could be kept by the Naval Officer, with 5% going to the chief wharfinger. Bligh changed the personnel in these positions, creating long-lasting animosities based on the lost income, by rewarding his friends like Robert Campbell, the Colony's biggest trader.

Other important source materials include the original records, in the Historical Records series for NSW and Australia. So there is no lack of evidence of the events in this period, but what is the student of history to make of this pressure cooker year leading up to the Rebellion of 1808?

Parramatta looked significantly different then! The River was the centre of Town, the waterway leading to Sydney, with a wharf near John Macarthur's house, and barracks at the eastern end of Town. A road one mile long run from the wharf to the front door of the Governor's Parramatta house, with lanes running off to the south, the present day Charles, Smith, Church, Marsden and Pitt Streets, that last named becoming Bridge Street and leading to the bridge across the River. The houses in these side-streets had been built as convict huts twenty years before, but now housed single families, often with a business located at the front, and each with a sign on the street. Bootmaker, saddler and harness maker, tailor, barber, butcher and baker had their shops, and every second house a shebeen, selling cheap rum and beds for the night.

Beneath the trees along the River's side lived poorer Europeans and those indigenous people that remained in Parramatta, still living on the bush foods and selling oysters, fish and eels to the European settlers in Parramatta.

Surrounding the Town were small farms growing grains, and raising animals, especially chicken and pigs, and growing fruits. Most of the houses in town also had gardens, with one cottage renowned for their roses that covered the cottage; perhaps that cottage may have been on the corner of Hunter Street and Pitt Row where the Rumsey Rose Garden is today. The people in these cottages were a mix of emancipated convicts, their partners who have come free and their children. They are joined in multiple relationships with the convicts and with the garrison of soldiers located in the town, numbering around 200, and another 100 rotated to Toongabbie, Seven Hill's and Prospect duties. 20 officers would have looked after the Garrison.

There were also 700 convicts in Parramatta and its surrounds, many in service to local settlers. Other convicts were housed at the Female Factory, the Parramatta Goal and in the inns of the town, or beneath the trees, along the riverbank. Civil superintendents, cooks and keepers would have looked after them.

Military law was the order of the day. The barracks, near the Macarthur house, enforced a general order requiring all passer's-by to announce their intentions to the guard, but I imagine Elizabeth and John's family were exempt from this rule.

The Macarthur family at this time was John and Elizabeth, joined by their eldest son Edward returned from England, with James and Elizabeth junior, and the two younger children William and Mary. John junior is away at school in England. John Macarthur's brother's son, Hannibal Hawkins Macarthur, has joined the family in Australia, as has Miss Penelope Lucas, a governess for the children. Forty farm hands and servants live on the Parramatta property, with 100 more men and women scattered across the Liverpool farm, the Cowpastures farms and at Seven Hills. The family also have a house at what is called Pyrmont today - they have used to hold quite grand garden parties in the year we are discussing. There is also some vacant land in Sydney, adjacent to St Phillip's church, that will become contentious as the year unfolds.

In Sydney at Government House lives Governor Bligh and his daughter Mary Putland, with her husband Lieutenant Putland, the consumptive captain of the Porpoise, a navy ship in Sydney Harbour. Government House is an uncomfortable mix of official residence and Government offices, half way up the Bridge Street hill. They live on the top floor, with the offices, public rooms and kitchens below.

Into this contention of Heroes strides John Macarthur and his wife Elizabeth and their fine son Edward, whose bust is in St John's Church Parramatta. And also striding into the story is a sailor extra-ordinary, a hero at Camperdown and Copenhagen, who sailed an open boat with twenty men from Tonga to Timor and lost only one man, when marooned after the famous Mutiny on the Bounty, and then repeated the voyage and succeeded in carrying breadfruits plants to Jamaica. This was an age of Heroes who fought like Olympian gods, and this tale is of those times.

John Macarthur has been away in England between 1801 and 1805, where he'd resigned his Captain's commission in the NS Wales Corps and has returned to the Colony, under contract to raise a mighty flock of sheep on ten thousand acres at the cow pastures, near present day Camden. It was called "Camden" after the gracious lord who granted the acres there, to become the Macarthur family's capitol; called "cow pastures" because a herd of Governor Phillip's cattle escaped in 1788 and roamed still there, numbering several thousand animals, some of which were bequeathed privately (not as government property) by Arthur Phillip to Governor King, who sold on to John Macarthur.

Governor Bligh has come here on 2000 pounds a year, with an expectation of ten or twelve years; Mrs. Bligh's does not travel and has remained in England; perhaps Bligh hopes for mid-term leave at the turn of the decade. Once landed in NS Wales, Bligh immediately adopts the pomp of the Autocrat: he has half-a-dozen out-riders surrounding his coach whenever he travels, and travels armed to the teeth. Before coming to NS Wales, Bligh has never farmed. I don't know what to say about him that makes sense of the facts we have before us – he was a tyrant to a certain class of people, especially to the military whom he castigated and who in turn took their revenge, and the praise that came to him issued from the pens of his toadies and the recipients of his bounty. However, we also must acknowledge that he could be extra-ordinarily kind to those in need and is considerate as an Administrator: he looked after Captain Piper on Norfolk Island most compassionately, and promoted him Captain.

The Colony of NS Wales teetered on the precipice of freedom, which in that mercantilist age meant freedom enough to gather wealth, and this freedom was worth fighting for. The floods at the Hawkesbury the year before showed how tenuous was the hold on this country - starvation and general privation could easily have overtaken the colony, and I feel that point is often overlooked as a cause of the Rebellion - the quality of administration was being questioned by a class of people who were certain they could do better. The Civil and Military had built a nice wicket, with land grants manned by convicts kept at Government's expense and the produce free to trade. The growth in stock through the period was significant be it pigs, sheep or horses, representing the aspirational stock-keeping habits of the poorer, richer and more active classes, respectively. Poor administration put this burgeoning wealth at risk.

One ex-convict, Andrew Thompson, could equal the landed Military bourgeoisie in assets, and the proprietor of the Government store, John Palmer, and of the largest private store and shop, Palmer's brother-in-law Robert Campbell, were both significant men. They were firmly on the side of Governor Bligh, as was William Grimes the Provost Martial, a sort of chief of police.

Between the Entrpeneurs and the Government was the rest of the population, but this very large group of people were finding it impossible to escape the Governor's justice, whether wealthy emancipated convict traders or ordinary soldiers, who are summarily jailed or subject to the loss of their property without redress.

And against Bligh is a coalition with Macarthur at its head and its body comprised of those who are well-born and aspirational for the colony, or for tnemselves. They will rise up against the oppression of the Governor and, wrapped in the chains of freedom, rule the colony until the arrival of Governor Macquarie December 28, 1809. But we shan't look too closely at their rule, for now they are plotting dis-rule, from July when they'd simply had enough. A regiment's pride is abused with caution, and where they had been parted they were now as one under the captaincy of John Macarthur. In anger the business of the Colony went on.

Courts of law sat as tribunals staffed exclusively with Military officers and decided every matter before them. Richard Atkins Esquire as Judge Advocate, Thomas Smith Esquire as Marshall, Samuel Marsden Chaplin & JP (sailed Home February 1807), Thomas Arundell Esquire JP, Mr. Andrew Thompson High Constable, and Mr. George Oakes District Constable made up the force of the Court, with a posse comitatus in operation, comprising expired convicts employed as bailiffs and a watch, under Mr. Gore the Provost Marshall.

The Governor was expected to form part of the party of governing, taking a sponsoring role for many activities in the Colony. As commander in chief, he is expected to contribute to joint operations of the three services, Marines, Soldiers and Navy but is distant from them all. It is certain that the Governor has complete and total power over certain classes of people in the Colony such as convicts, and for expenditure; it is considerably less certain that he controls those free English men and women who have settled here. Those people, now the majority, expect legal rights to property ownership, religion, marriage and safety equivalent to English law. For they need to trade in freedom, knowing their property rights cannot be extinguished by fiat. In July the traders Simeon Lord and co. were jailed for transferring cargo between their ships, although they'd asked permission to so, and offered to pay port charges.

I have already mentioned that the Government has only a small discretionary income, from the duties levied on goods landed in Sydney harbour, amounting to about 3000 pounds a year, to be used for certain approved purposes. The Orphan Fund paid the expenses of the police, for example. The only other local source of funds for the Government were the fines levied by the Courts, amounting to nearly half of the duties raised in the port, a considerable amount. This income was administered by Richard Atkins Esquire, the Colony's Judge-Advocate, an unusual position normally only used in the military for courts-martial, neither a judge nor a prosecutor but a curious mixture of both.

Property rights were a sore point in the Colony in 1807; the settlers understood that the rule of law was absent, including trial by jury and habeus corpus, so they did not rely on Jeremy Bentham to know they lacked the rights common to Englishmen, by inheritance.

As students of history it is best that we tread lightly across the Law: the argument put forward by Bentham is that the Governor has no authority over either emancipated convicts or free settlers, and that the property laws in NS Wales offer no surety of ownership, a fundamental English right.

Bligh's supporters, the free settlers at the Hawkesbury or Green Hills settlements, petitioned Governor Bligh early in 1808 for trial by jury and that the rights of English men and women to be granted to them. Their request would have been agreed to by Jeremy Bentham, the English parliamentarian and jail reformer, who wrote a pamphlet called "The True Bastille" in which he postulates that Magna Carta and habeus corpus are missing from the law in the Colony of New South Wales, in contravention of the principal established in Blackstone, that English laws apply wherever English people settle new land, in which no appropriate legal system exists. It is an interesting idea and in his 1807 Letter concerning the Colony, Samuel Marsden mentions one of Bentham major points, that convicts on short sentences are unnecessarily confined here; Marsden goes on to point out that when they do leave, they cannot afford to take their children and wives with them, and so leave them here to struggle along as best they can.

Bentham's proposition is that convicts out of their sentence should not have to stay in New South Wales, as then a seven year sentence is transformed into a life sentence, and that the concentration of powers in the hands of a despotic Governor is contrary to the laws of England. Of the first proposition, John Macarthur's main concern was willing labour and he opposed any scheme to facilitate expired convicts leaving the Colony. On the second point however, his attitude is quite different, and he too wonders what jurisdiction the Governor has over settlers such as himself. We need to keep in mind that Government then generally did less than we have come to expect today, offering few services, but on the other hand had fewer checks and balances against the usurping of power. And the power of life and death lay firmly in the Governor's grasp, along with the trappings of civil power, such as gaols and a police force.

The limits of gubernatorial power were illustrated by Major Ross' refusal to allow his marines to guard convicts under Governor Phillip. Governor Phillip was powerless in the face of a direct refusal, because he governed the military under the Articles of War, and the Mutiny Act, and certain forms of duty were forbidden by the regulations.

Of those classes not subject to the arbitrary fiat of the Governor by this argument, the merchants are the most vociferous in their demands for what we call today economic certainty. The right to hold property and to enjoy that property, working it as you see best, is a fundamental English right that the merchants will insist upon. I number John Macarthur among these men, along with the Commissary John Palmer, Governor King's former secretary Garnnham Blaxcell, Thomas Reiby and others, including the emancipist traders Lord, Kable and Underwood.

Manning Clarke tells the story of going to Nuremberg and visiting the castle in Worms where the famous meeting between Martin Luther and the Holy Roman Emperor took place. Dressed in finery , King Charles spoke to Luther in Latin, telling him that the Roman Church was the repository of truth for over 1000 years and that he, Charles the fifth, would wipe Martin Luther and his heresy from the face of the earth. Luther is said to have replied, in Saxon German, that "Here I stand. I can do no other. So help me God!" It would not be long before Luther wiped Charles' face from history, after much blood was shed. Clarke wonders if such a clash of civilizations would ever take place in Australia, and in the events leading to the twentieth anniversary of the landing of the First Fleet we have an answer.

Manning Clarke questions whether so momentous a clash of civilizations would ever take place in this Southern Land; the personalities are not so grand, but the clash is still heard. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Britain's navy had conquered the world, and one of their possessions was New South Wales.

Britain lost America when the unilateralism of government became too much for the American settlers to bear, and those settlers shrugged off Britain. That same unilateralism then transported to the Colony of NS Wales and achieved a similar lack of success because it was deficient as a form of government.

The clash here was between this ante-trade ("ante" meaning "before") government and the rising Mercantilist class; between prosperity and hunger. When the Colony nearly starved in 1791, it was the officers of the NS Wales Corps who chartered the first private vessels to transport food and other supplies here, initially against the wishes of Governor Phillip but eventually with his approval. Those same officers then became successful private farmers and increased the land under cultivation ten-fold. The paucity of animals in the early years was overcome when the officers imported horses, sheep, cows and poultry from Cape Town and Madras in India; once again, Government hardly moved on this issue.

During the American War of Independence, the British Army strongly resented the English Navy's role, especially the capturing of four English man-o'-war ships early in the war by the American Navy. Although not especially "modern", the British Army had at least some form of collegiate decision-making, unlike the Navy. The power of individual captains on their ships was considerable, and when flying their broad pennant as Commodores, could be insufferable. That was certainly the case with Bligh.

The Governor of NS Wales had been an Admiralty appointment until Governor Bligh, paying less than one thousand pounds a year. In 1806 the appointment became a Civil one, in the Ministry's gift, and the salary was doubled. As it happened, they choose to appoint a serving Commodore, Captain William Bligh. By choosing a ranking naval officer, the Ministry insured some level of conflict with the highly ranked soldiers in Sydney.

The powers of the Governor related to the original intention of the Colony; almost complete power, in the opinion of one of the early commentators "as Great as any Caesar", over convicts serving their sentence and the civil administration, and over the ships and sailors bringing them here. However the dispute with Major Ross of the Marines indicates where the Governor's power was circumscribed, as Phillip for one could not get Marines to guard the convicts; Major Ross pointed to the regulations.

Jeremy Bentham's point was that rules for governing the maturing Colony had not been passed by Parliament in London, and so deprived the non-convict inhabitants of NS Wales of their British civil law and rights, such as habeus corpus and jury trial. It is around those points that the eruption in January 1808 takes place.

The settlers on the Hawkesbury petitioned Governor Bligh for trial by jury in January 1808, in a petition often seen as supportive of Bligh. John Macarthur, in the trial over the stills, refers to the abrogation by the Governor of the property rights of Englishmen in his primary defence and the Court found for Macarthur and dismissed the prosecution.

19 September 2007, by David Povey

2007-09-19T12:42:00.000+10:00

Government House about 1807
Part 4 of the talk about Parramatta in 1807 leading up to the Revolt on Anniversary Day, 26 January 1808. To be continued.

18 September 2007, by David Povey

2007-09-18T10:14:00.000+10:00

Declaration of Martial Law, Parramatta Janaury 26 1808

The interlude continues of - part 3 of the Friends' talk.

Manning Clarke questions whether so momentous a clash of civilizations would ever take place in this Southern Land; the personalities are not so grand, but the clash is still heard. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Britain's navy had conquered the world, and one of their possessions was New South Wales.

Britain lost America when the unilateralism of government became too much for the American settlers to bear, and those settlers shrugged off Britain. That same unilateralism then transported to the Colony of NS Wales and achieved a similar lack of success because it was deficient as a form of government.

The clash here was between this ante-trade ("ante" meaning "before") government and the rising Mercantilist class; between prosperity and hunger. When the Colony nearly starved in 1791, it was the officers of the NS Wales Corps who chartered the first private vessels to transport food and other supplies here, initially against the wishes of Governor Phillip but eventually with his approval. Those same officers then became successful private farmers and increased the land under cultivation ten-fold. The paucity of animals in the early years was overcome when the officers imported horses, sheep, cows and poultry from Cape Town and Madras in India; once again, Government hardly moved on this issue.

During the American War of Independence, the British Army strongly resented the English Navy's role, especially the capturing of four English man-o’-war ships early in the war by the American Navy. Although not especially "modern", the British Army had at least some form of collegiate decision-making, unlike the Navy. The power of individual captains on their ships was considerable, and when flying their broad pennant as Commodores, could be insufferable. That was certainly the case with Bligh.

The Governor of NS Wales had been an Admiralty appointment until Governor Bligh, paying less than one thousand pounds a year. In 1806 the appointment became a Civil one, in the Ministry's gift, and the salary was doubled. As it happened, they choose to appoint a serving Commodore, Captain William Bligh. By choosing a ranking naval officer, the Ministry insured some level of conflict with the highly ranked soldiers in Sydney.

The powers of the Governor related to the original intention of the Colony; almost complete power, in the opinion of one of the early commentators "as Great as any Caesar", over convicts serving their sentence and the civil administration, and over the ships and sailors bringing them here. However the dispute with Major Ross of the Marines indicates where the Governor's power was circumscribed, as Phillip for one could not get Marines to guard the convicts; Major Ross pointed to the regulations.

Jeremy Bentham's point was that rules for governing the maturing Colony had not been passed by Parliament in London, and so deprived the non-convict inhabitants of NS Wales of their British civil law and rights, such as habeus corpus and jury trial. It is around those points that the eruption in January 1808 takes place.

The settlers on the Hawkesbury petitioned Governor Bligh for trial by jury in January 1808, in a petition often seen as supportive of Bligh. John Macarthur, in the trial over the stills, refers to the abrogation by the Governor of the property rights of Englishmen in his primary defence and the Court found for Macarthur and dismissed the prosecution.

17 September 2007, by David Povey

2007-09-17T13:08:00.000+10:00

Governor King left us this drawing of Benelong.

Continuation of notes for Friends talk, Friday September 21, 2007 at Elizabeth Farm.

Property rights were a sore point in the Colony in 1807; the settlers understood that the rule of law was absent, including trial by jury and habeus corpus, so they did not rely on Jeremy Bentham to know they lacked the rights common to Englishmen, by inheritance.

As students of history it is best that we tread lightly across the Law: the argument put forward by Bentham is that the Governor has no authority over either emancipated convicts or free settlers, and that the property laws in NS Wales offer no surety of ownership, a fundamental English right.

Bligh's supporters, the free settlers at the Hawkesbury or Green Hills settlements, petitioned Governor Bligh early in 1808 for trial by jury and that the rights of English men and women to be granted to them. Their request would have been agreed to by Jeremy Bentham, the English parliamentarian and jail reformer, who wrote a pamphlet called "The True Bastille" in which he postulates that Magna Carta and habeus corpus are missing from the law in the Colony of New South Wales, in contravention of the principal established in Blackstone, that English laws apply wherever English people settle new land, in which no appropriate legal system exists. The full title of the pamphlet tells us more: A Plea for the Constitution: Shewing the Enormities committed, to the opression of British subjects, innocent as well as guilty; in breach of Magna Carta, the Petition of Right, the Habeus Corpus Act, and the Bill of Rights. As likewise of the several Transportation Acts, in and by the Design, Foundation, and Government of the Penal Colony of New South Wales. The wife of Colonel Patterson was sister-in-law to Jeremy Bentham's wife, and David Collins was a correspondent of the famous man, and of course John Macarthur was in England in 1802, when Bentham privately printed his pamphlet, so it certainly is possible that the content of the pamphlet became known in the Colony.

For example in his 1807 Letter to the Colonial Office concerning the Colony, Samuel Marsden mentions one of Bentham major points, that convicts on short sentences are unnecessarily confined here; Marsden goes on to point out that when they do leave, they cannot afford to take their children and wives with them, and so leave them here to struggle along as best they can.

Bentham's proposition is that convicts out of their sentence should not have to stay in New South Wales, as then a seven year sentence is transformed into a life sentence, and that the concentration of powers in the hands of a despotic Governor is contrary to the laws of England. Of the first proposition, John Macarthur's main concern was willing labour and he opposed any scheme to facilitate expired convicts leaving the Colony. On the second point however, his attitude is quite different, and he too wonders what jurisdiction the Governor has over settlers such as himself. We need to keep in mind that Government then generally did less than we have come to expect today, offering few services, but on the other hand had fewer checks and balances against the usurping of power. And the power of life and death lay firmly in the Governor's grasp, along with the trappings of civil power, such as gaols and a police force.

The limits of gubernatorial power were illustrated by Major Ross' refusal to allow his marines to guard convicts under Governor Phillip. Governor Phillip was powerless in the face of a direct refusal, because he governed the military under the Articles of War, and the Mutiny Act, and certain forms of duty were forbidden by the regulations.

Of those classes not subject to the arbitrary fiat of the Governor by this argument, the merchants are the most vociferous in their demands for what we call today economic certainty. The right to hold property and to enjoy that property, working it as you see best, is a fundamental English right that the merchants will insist upon. I number John Macarthur among these men, along with the Commissary John Palmer, Governor King's former secretary Garnnham Blaxcell, Thomas Reiby and others, including the emancipist traders Lord, Kable and Underwood.

Manning Clarke tells the story of going to Nuremberg and visiting the castle in Worms where the famous meeting between Martin Luther and the Holy Roman Emperor took place. Dressed in finery , King Charles spoke to Luther in Latin, telling him that the Roman Church was the repository of truth for over 1000 years and that he, Charles the fifth, would wipe Martin Luther and his heresy from the face of the earth. Luther is said to have replied, in Saxon German, that "Here I stand. I can do no other. So help me God!" It would not be long before Luther wiped Charles' face from history, after much blood was shed. Clarke wonders if such a clash of civilizations would ever take place in Australia, and in the events leading to the twentieth anniversary of the landing of the First Fleet we have an answer.

16 September 2007, by David Povey

2007-09-16T20:04:00.000+10:00

Bennelong the Dharug warrior, drawn by Governor King.

A little break in the sequence - this is the first part of my talk at the Friends of Elizabeth Farm for September 21 2007.

I would like to acknowledge the Dharug, Burrogarang, Kurringai and Gandungarra people who lived on this land before we came here and whose spirits and children still live here.

Twenty years before 1807, the population of Sydney numbered around 4000 Dharug, Burrogarang, Kurringai, and Gandungarra people, living in family and clan units around the shores of Botany Bay, Sydney Harbour and through to the mountains behind. In the next twenty years men and women were brought to Sydney, and by 1807 there are an additional 7000 people living in the locality, comprising 1350 women, 1600 children, and 3700 men. 1800 men and 150 women came free or with the Military and Civil establishment, and counted along with the Children, that means one half of the population is not from the prison, and one half is. There are less than 1100 convicts still serving their sentences since few convicts, settlers or stores arrived at the heights of the European war 1801 to 1805, and many convicts are now time expired or conditionally pardoned by the year under review. Additionally there were one or two hundred assorted sailors in port.

And these were times when heroes roamed the Colony like Benelong, Arthur Phillip, John Macarthur, Governor Hunter, Colonel Paterson, Governor King, Governor Bligh, Samuel Marsden, Elizabeth Macarthur, Baranga-roo, Abar-oo, Col-bee, Nan-bar-ee, Mrs. King, Mrs. Marsden, Mrs. Johnson, Reverend Johnson, Colonel Johnston, Carnambaygal, Pemulway. Heroes in any time, these men and women were joined by lesser lights no less famous, the pick pocket of the age George Barrington, fancy women, knaves and missionaries to the South Seas, one of whom, George Oakes, is our hero, and two esteemed families, the Palmers and Campbells, whose matriarchs and patriarchs are interred here at St John’s; George Caley; George Caley, a headstrong botanist paid by Sir Jospeh Banks; and those operating from afar like Sir Joseph Banks himself; King George, and the Lords, Administrators and Judges who established the Colony and sentenced the thousands of convicts who made up our original stock.

A Note about sources: This period is well covered by secondary sources, and there are excellent primary records for much of the activity covered here. We even have the private correspondence of selected individuals commenting on the action.

I have used Alan Atkinson’s assessment of the period from his Europeans in Australia and Ross Fitzgerald’s and Mark Henson’s Bligh, Macarthur and the Rum Rebellion. Also Michael Duffy’s fresh Man of Honour, an interpretation of Macarthur’s life until the Rebellion, and of course Malcolm Ellis’ John Macarthur. I have made use of G. D. Wood’s History of Criminal Law in New South Wales and David Day’s Smugglers and Sailors, a history of the Customs Service from 1788.

An important element illuminated by that text, concerns the sources of revenue for the Government of NS Wales. Only three possible means of revenue were available to the Governor of the Colony: Treasury Notes drawn on the Government in England, for which the Governor was fully accountable and abuse of which led England to withdraw Governor King, the relevant minister believing King extravagant; another source of revenue was fines levied by a Court in the jurisdiction, and finally by duties laid on all incoming produce of whatever kind. The money raised from this last duty was allowed only for the Orphan Fund, and was raised from all product landed at Sydney Harbour from 1798 onwards. The money raised by duty amounted to 1500 English pounds a year in 1798 to nearly 4000 pounds by 1807. The Fund was large enough to buy Captain Kent’s house, the biggest in Sydney, for more than 2000 pounds in 1801, to become the Orphan School. The Funds also financed the bridge along Bridge Street, the new orphanage at Parramatta and the looms at the Female Factory.

Apart from these landing duties, Court fines could also be a considerable income. The three emancipist Sydney traders, Simeon Lord, Henry Kable and James Underwood were goaled by Governor Bligh, for one month each for transferring goods between vessels tied at Sydney wharf, against the regulations. The traders were also fined one hundred English pounds each, an amount equal to nearly ten percent of the port duties for the year. These amounts were important to the cash-strapped Governor, if only as inducements to his friends.

From 1500 pounds a year during William Balmain’s time to more like 4000 pounds for John Harris, the office of Naval Officer, or chief customs collector became highly sought-after, given that 15% of the amount raised could be kept by the Naval Officer, with 5% going to the chief wharfinger. Bligh changed the personnel in these positions, creating long-lasting animosities based on the lost income, by rewarding his friends like Robert Campbell, the Colony’s biggest trader.

Yes, the history of Customs is important to our story of the pressure cooker in Parramatta in 1807 and 1808, and David Day’s book was an important resource for me. As were the original records, in the Historical Records series for NSW and Australia. So there is no lack of evidence of the events in this period, but what is the student of history to make of this pressure cooker year leading up to the Rebellion of 1808?

Parramatta looked significantly different then! The River was the centre of Town, the waterway leading to Sydney, with a wharf near John Macarthur’s house, and barracks at the eastern end of Town. A road one mile long run from the wharf to the front door of the Governor’s Parramatta house, with lanes running off to the south, the present day Charles, Smith, Church, Marsden and Pitt Streets, that last named becoming Bridge Street and leading to the bridge across the River. The houses in these side-streets had been built as convict huts twenty years before, but now housed single families, often with a business located at the front, and each with a sign on the street. Bootmaker, saddler and harness maker, tailor, barber, butcher and baker had their shops, and every second house a shebeen, selling cheap rum and beds for the night.

Beneath the trees along the River’s side lived poorer Europeans and those indigenous people that remained in Parramatta, still living on the bush foods and selling oysters, fish and eels to the European settlers in Parramatta.

Surrounding the Town were small farms growing grains, and raising animals especially chicken and pigs and growing fruits. Most of the houses in town also had gardens, with one cottage renowned for their roses that covered the cottage; perhaps that cottage may have been on the corner of Hunter Street and Pitt Row where the Rumsey Rose Garden is today. The people in these cottages were a mix of emancipated convicts, their partners who have come free and their children. They are joined in multiple relationships with the convicts and with the garrison of soldiers located in the town, numbering around 200, and another 100 rotated to Toongabbie, Seven Hill’s and Prospect duties. 20 officers would have looked after the Garrison.

There were also 700 convicts in Parramatta and its surrounds, many in service to local settlers. Other convicts are housed at the Female Factory, the Parramatta Goal and in the inns of the town, or beneath the trees, along the riverbank. Civil superintendents, cooks and keepers would have looked after them.

Military law was the order of the day. The barracks, near the Macarthur house, enforced a general order requiring all passer’s-by to announce their intentions to the guard, but I imagine Elizabeth and John’s family were exempt from this rule.

The family at this time was John and Elizabeth, joined by their eldest son Edward returned from England, with James and Elizabeth junior, and the two younger children William and Mary. John junior is away at school in England. John's brother's son, Hannibal Hawkins Macarthur, has joined the family in Australia, as has Miss Penelope Lucas, a governess for the children. Forty farm hands and servants live on the Parramatta property, with 100 more men and women scattered across the Liverpool farm, the Cowpastures farms and at Seven Hills.

In Sydney at Government House lives Governor Bligh and his daughter Mary Putland, with her husband Lieutenant Putland, the consumptive captain of the Porpoise, a navy ship in Sydney Harbour. Government House is an uncomfortable mix of official residence and Government offices, half way up the Bridge Street hill. They live on the top floor, with the offices, public rooms and kitchens below.

Into this land of Heroes strides John Macarthur and his wife Elizabeth and their fine son Edward, whose bust lies in St John’s Church Parramatta. And also striding into the story is a sailor extra-ordinary, a hero at Camperdown and Copenhagen, who sailed an open boat with twenty men from Tonga to Timor and lost only one man, when marooned after the famous Mutiny on the Bounty, and then repeated the voyage and succeeded in carrying breadfruits plants to Jamaica. This was an age of Heroes who fought like Olympian gods, and this tale is of those times.

John Macarthur has been away in England between 1801 and 1805, where he’d resigned his Captain’s commission in the NS Wales Corps and has returned to the Colony, under contract to raise a mighty flock of sheep on ten thousand acres at the cow pastures, near present day Camden. It was called “Camden” after the gracious lord who granted the acres there, to become the Macarthur family’s capitol; called “cow pastures” because a herd of Governor Phillip’s cattle escaped in 1788 and roamed still there, several thousand animals bequeathed privately (not as government property) by Arthur Phillip to Governor King, who sold on to John Macarthur.

Governor Bligh has come here on 2000 pounds a year, with an expectation of ten or twelve years; Mrs. Bligh’s does not travel and has remained in England; perhaps Bligh hopes for mid-term leave at the turn of the decade. Once landed in NS Wales, Bligh immediately adopts the pomp of the Autocrat: he has out-riders surrounding his coach whenever he travels, and travels armed to the teeth. Before coming to NS Wales, Bligh has never farmed. I don’t know what to say about him that makes sense of the facts we have before us – he seemed a tyrant to a certain class of people, especially to the military whom he castigated and who in turn took their revenge, and the praise that came to him issued from the pens of his toadies and the recipients of his bounty. However, we also must acknowledge that he could be extra-ordinarily kind to those in need and is considerate as an Administrator: he looked after Captain Piper on Norfolk Island most compassionately, and promoted him Captain.

The Colony of NS Wales teetered on the precipice of freedom, which in that mercantilist age meant freedom enough to gather wealth, and this freedom was worth fighting for. The Civil and Military had built a nice wicket, with land grants manned by convicts kept at Government’s expense and the produce free to trade. The growth in stock through the period was significant be it pigs, sheep or horses, representing the aspirational stock-keeping habits of the poorer, richer and more active classes, respectively. One time expired man, Andrew Thompson, could equal the landed Military bourgeoisie in assets, and the proprietor of the Government store, John Palmer, and of the largest private store and shop, Palmer’s brother-in-law Robert Campbell, were both significant men. They were firmly on the side of Governor Bligh, as was William Grimes the Provost Martial, a sort of chief of police.

In the middle, but finding it impossible to escape the Governor’s justice, are wealthy emancipated convict traders and ordinary soldiers who are summarily jailed or subject to the loss of their property without redress.

And against Bligh is a coalition with Macarthur at its head and its body comprised of everyone who is well-born and aspirational for the colony, or for himself. They will rise up against the oppression of the Governor and, wrapped in the chains of freedom, rule the colony until the arrival of Governor Macquarie December 28, 1809. But we shan’t look too closely at their rule, for now they are plotting dis-rule, from July when they’d simply had enough. A regiment’s pride is abused with caution, and where they had been parted they were now as one under the captaincy of John Macarthur. In anger the business of the Colony went on.

Courts of law sat as tribunals staffed exclusively with Military officers and decided every matter before them. Richard Atkins Esquire as Judge Advocate, Thomas Smith Esquire as Marshall, Samuel Marsden Chaplin & JP (sailed Home February 1807), Thomas Arundell Esquire JP, Mr. Andrew Thompson High Constable, and Mr. George Oakes District Constable made up the force of the Court, with a posse comitatus in operation, comprising expired convicts employed as bailiffs and a watch, under Mr. Gore the Provost Marshall.

The Governor was expected to form part of the party of governing, taking a sponsoring role for many activities in the Colony. As commander in chief, he is expected to contribute to joint operations of the three services, Marines, Soldiers and Navy but is distant from them all. It is certain that the Governor has complete and total power over certain classes of people in the Colony such as convicts, and for expenditure; it is considerably less certain that he controls those free English men and women who have settled here. Those people, now the majority, expect legal rights to property ownership, religion, marriage and safety equivalent to English law. For they need to trade in freedom, knowing their property rights cannot be extinguished by fiat. In July the traders Simeon Lord and co. were jailed for transferring cargo between their ships, although they’d asked permission to so, and offered to pay port charges.

I have already mentioned that the Government has only a small discretionary income, from the duties levied on goods landed in Sydney harbour, amounting to about 3000 pounds a year, to be used for certain approved purposes. The Orphan Fund paid the expenses of the police, for example. The only other local source of funds for the Government were the fines levied by the Courts, amounting to nearly half of the duties raised in the port, a considerable amount. This income was administered by Richard Atkins Esquire, the Colony’s Judge-Advocate, an unusual position normally only used in the military for courts-martial, neither a judge nor a prosecutor but a curious mixture of both.

15 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-15T15:40:00.000+10:00

Baranga-roo's homesite or "ngura", at the Miller's point.

Baranga-roo won't visit Parramatta for any reason, but I'm not sure why it's off-limits. She tells me so much about her life as a warm face, gestures and rudimentary conversation can express. She is a mother four times over. Benelong is Baranga-roo's second husband.
Baranga-roo lives with Benelong and her kurung Werowi and Wonga, her girl and boy, on the shore of Cockle Bay, in a bark shelter very near to our Sydney home. She calls that her "ngura", meaning her house.
Baranga-roo lives a rich life, her husband is kind and we share more in common than you may think. She brings food when we are in Sydney- the most delectable oysters, succulent briny morsels that are the best we've ever eaten, and tiny blackfish that she grills on the coals in her boat.
For this food, she accepts money, the smallest copper coins that are hoarded for a rainy day, she told me last year she had saved more than a shilling.
Her husband, Benelong, has a "ngura" near our Farm here at Parramatta. So he comes up river by himself in his canoe, a tidy paddle of twelve miles. Benelong calls the creek near us "ngunun" , pronounced "nun nun" which means the bats that infest the trees along its banks. He has offered us bats, also fried over coals, but they are not so appetising. I had Mr. Macarthur discover the quantity of roasted bat that Benelong consumed in a sitting, and am informed that 24 is not uncommon. Baranga-roo does not like him coming here and their fights about this are famous, being recorded in the Annals of the Colony, as written by Mr. Collins and Lieutenant Tench. The canoes the Natives make from bark are carefully singed over fire, twisted at each end, and destroying one of these works of weeks, as Baranga-roo has done over Benelong's twice, is a sign of her dislike of Parramatta. I understand other Natives refuse to attend various places, saying it is not allowed for them to go to those places.

14 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-14T09:34:00.000+10:00

Without Mr. Marsden, there seems less reason to attend Church; yesterday, we said prayers and read from the Bible in the orchard with as many of the people of the Farm attending as was possible. Mr. Macarthur reminded me that at sea, the Captain will hold a Sunday service and often only read the Articles of War - he proposes to write our own Articles of the Farm and read those. We had quite a laugh together at the thought of matching the sections about "that sin that shall be un-named" with a suitable Farm-based alternative!
The people who work for us have, in general, been very good. Only two have been dismissed in fourteen years, a remarkable record, one for failing to be truthful and the second for theft. How fortunate for that one, that a position of Jail Keeper came up into which he so easily slipped!
One of the most remarkable stories in Parramatta is that of the now deceased Mr. George Barrington. Of course everyone knows his name, the most famous pick pocket of the age. Apparently he was in truth a total scoundrel, who was offered redemption several times and spurned it, until eventually he stole the Russian Prince Orloff's snuff box at the Opera in Coventry Garden and was apprehended, tried and sentenced to transportation in Australia, where he was sent to Parramatta. Well, true redemption did come upon the man here and he was soon the Superintendent of Convicts, a position he held for some years with considerable distinction. His accent was that of an Irish man, but he wore his hair quite long, and his manners were almost courtly. When I was first introduced to him - for here, on occasion, one is introduced to unlikely characters - he bowed very low, and moved his arm as though he had a sword: I was most impressed. His conversation was refined and he came to our outdoor parties several times, especially at Christmas and the King's birthday. Among other adventures, which he could be persuaded to relate, were several events in the bush near here, where he fell in with Mauguran, the chief of the natives hereabouts, and with whom he spent much time. His actions to the convicts he superintended were marked by his generosity and fairness, and yet he maintained discipline. Altogether a remarkable man.
Spring is certainly on us today - John informs me that the temperature at the barracks, where a mercury measure is available, showed it to be 85 degrees. A strong wind has blown in this evening, and keeping a candle burning is proving a challenge. Let us see what tomorrow may bring.

13 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-13T13:26:00.000+10:00

Mr. Harris's appointment paper as a magistrate.

John brought home the worst news today. After that terrible affair with Governor Bligh's refusal of our appeal against Thompson's note of hand decision, which may very well make such notes based on anything other than currency unacceptable, and Captain Glenn's notice that a convict may have escaped on the Parramatta, it seems that Mr. Wentworth is dismissed from his post at the Hospital here, and so is Mr. Jamieson. No one is safe from the arbitrary actions of the Governor, who will listen only to have awful friends. Now it appears that three of the Sydney traders - emancipists all - are to be charged with lesse majestie for asking the Governor is they may trans-ship supplies without landing them! Mr. Macarthur tells me they have offered to pay the port duties, so that the orphan funds lose nothing, but the Governor has found the request so abhorrent that he is charging them! And Mr. Harris has assured John that such requests are common and under Governor King allowed - very large barrels, for example, are very difficult to bring on shore at the Government's wharf, where only small boats may tie up. I foresee the jailing of the traders as a suitable cause for agitation for the withdrawal of the Governor, but I must ensure that Mr. Macarthur stays aloof from the mischief.

12 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-12T13:11:00.000+10:00

The Factory has looms and wheels to transform fleece to cloth.

There is no limit to the quantum of wool we can sell, if we can produce sufficient. No sheep have been slaughtered from this Farm for three years, and very few from our other places, even though a fair percentage of the stock is hairy rather than wool producing. It is amazing how the off-spring tend towards wool, as if the crosses to produce carcase were from wooly sheep. Our sheep have mainly come from our own breeding, which originated with the Bengal hairy sheep we bought from Madras, and the Cape fat-tails that came with the early fleets, and these were crossed with the Spanish sheep brought here from the Cape. None of those had fine wool, although the Cape Spanish were well-covered, and the fat-tails lent to wool more than hair. The true Merinos we have from the royal flock have only bred twice to the Bengals, yet the off-spring are fine wooled.
Our sheep are enclosed through the day and housed overnight - the dews in this country are beyond anything one imagines at Home. With the native dogs and the Colony's curs, I find the shepherds must keep their flock close or else lose some every night. The native grass is not productive, and Mr. Marsden has developed an improved pasture from a Yorkshire strain he brought here, and he has kindly shared those seeds with us, so that here on the main farm our grass is now partly clover and a mix of the Yorkshire type; the other farms remain unimproved except where they grow corn, rye or millet, and we only let the flock into those fields after harvest, to reduce the stubble and manure the ground.
My concern today is sheep, sheep and more sheep - I am certain I shall swiftly fall asleep, dreaming of course of sheep. Five lambs were lost in the top paddock, to some animal that came below the sheep fence during the night; perhaps din-go, or another of the native animals. That is not the first time that shepherd has been on duty and sheep lost, so he will be closely watched now. His wife is one of the best workers, and they have a cottage nearby, so I have asked John to talk to the fellow, and put his on his notice that any further preventable losses will see him off the farm.

11 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-11T13:12:00.000+10:00

The garden is a maze of colour with our local Parrot

One can be tired and despondent in one's diary, even though in private one must be cheerful. The parties that gather have worn me down, I'm afraid, and it is especially hard to maintain one's composure in the face of the party spirit, when one is also planning a major event to which all the contending parties are invited. It would be simplistic to suggest that it is only the weather that concerns me, worrying thought that is. The dinner and dance I have planned requires compliant weather - little wind, a warm night, no dew - and Spring is such a changeable season. Who to invite can be surprisingly complex, although so few women are eligible - Mrs. Atkins has been asked, and I hope she will attend. She is haughty, as befits her antecedents though hardly the current circumstances, and the officers wives will come, but then we have those officers who are not wed: are any of their housekeepers suitable to invite? John insists that no emancipists may be invited, but then what of Mr. Fulton, our appointed minister? At Home he would be, but here is very different. And some hosts seem to enjoy excluding people, whereas that does not suit me. So my despondency is surely understandable - and those who would laugh at a "the great woman, with naught to do but plan her pleasure", should walk a mile in my shoes!
I have sent the servants to Sydney to prepare the house, and am keeping Elizabeth active outside, for her health.

10 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-10T12:43:00.000+10:00

The ramshackle tent has been replaced with the finest building in Town.

I have re-read letters from Home today, along with two papers from London and a news sheet from Plymouth that have recently arrived in the Colony, so I feel very up-to-date with the latest English news. The canvas is much bigger there. My news would be so parochial - we extended the carriage drive towards the river, giving us another view up the Harbour, and a slightly longer ride for those of us who find horse riding to be valuable exercise. Mr. Macarthur's family was humble, so sword play and horse riding are skills he has learnt in his later youth and as a young man, but he does well at both. Edward and he may spend an hour jousting when John is home, and Hannibal is a fair horse man, given his upbringing exclusively in towns. Mr. Macarthur is also an excellent sailor and passes those skills onto the children - William and Mary share a skiff, as a welcome relief from lessons. For myself, I have no fear of horses, and rode but recently to Richmond Hill, but in general my traverses are to Prospect and the Seven Hills, and they usually in a cart of some kind. We have the off-spring of Major Johnson's great nag to pull a cart, so we make a fine sight and cover a lot of ground very quickly. Between here and the Western Road the pavement is certain, but once beyond the Town, to the west, the pavement becomes very rough, and the trees by the roadside may harbour the indigent, or natives. The Governor, in addition to his out-riders, always carries pistols, and Mr. Macarthur has urged the same for me, but I know perhaps thirty of the local women natives by name, and nearly as many of the men, and I don't believe one has anything to fear from people one can name. My assistance with births, small though that is, has also become something of legend, and a native woman at the Green Hills asked for me by name, fearing a breech birth. What good I would have been, I don't know. Fortunately, Mr. Arndell's reputation among the natives is also strong and he was on the spot - he hadn't liked helping in the past, when he heard that if a patient died, then the doctor was to blame and his life forfeit, but that attitude among the natives has changed, and they understand that the doctors' will only do their best. Mr. Balmain was a fine man in that regard - on many occasions when boating in the Harbour, for he did love to fish, he was called to assist with some emergency or other. His natural goodness, and fine skills, made him a great hero among the people dwelling around the harbour. I don't know if any of the natives deal with Mr. Wentworth here, and between you, dear diary, and I, to call upon dear old Harris would be the action of a desperate man! And none of that is hardly a fit subject for news.

9 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-09T08:12:00.000+10:00

Sydney as she is today, a jewel of a Town.

The night sky was lit by a great comet last night, the tail hanging over the mountains to our west and sufficient light streaming from it for the river to reflect the light. A sign?
Contention reigns in the Colony, while at home it has intruded into our evening meal times. Both Edward and Hannibal feel the weight that lies on John's shoulders, but I don't believe they know that often, to John, his contention is a game. Behaviour is the cause of the fracas, the contumacious Governor and his allies refusing to behave as Mr. Macarthur firmly believes gentlemen must behave, and so we reach that point where every action is examined and found wanting of some aspect of rightness, although perfectly fair if examined by itself. That is what has come to dinner, the examination of action. I told Mr. Macarthur that the table must be exempt from all conflict, and he agrees. Edward and Hannibal unfortunately were not present when I made my point, so now John must take them aside this very night and explain the position.
It is clear that the rights of Englishmen must be enjoyed here, as must their obligations. In the coming week we have invited the garrison, along with the Governor and Mr. and Mrs. Putland, if Mr. Putland is well, to a dinner dance at our Sydeny house, and I know that every effort to appear pleasant must be made now, for fear of betraying some inappropriate behaviour on the evening. That would gall me beyond belief.
Before John went to England, I cannot imagine myself making such a demand - how have I changed? I would hate to become a demanding spouse, for my heart is firmly in Mr. Macarthur's pocket.

8 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-08T17:33:00.000+10:00

The Colony of NS Wales when first it started: no one would recognise that scene now.

What does matter most? Is it our worldly success, our relationship with God, or something else. Is it foolish to say "family"? My family has always seemed very important to me and lately I've come to think of that more and more. When John and I recently celebrated our fortieth birthdays and nearly twenty years of married life, the importance of our relationship and our family loomed larger than ever. Surrounded by so many people who are not able to celebrate successes because of their worldly condition and the life they have been dealt, our family struck me as enduring and significant in a way that nothing else in this world is. A few years ago, faced with the hostility of government and the seeming futility of everyday life here in NS Wales, Mr. Macarthur offered our farms and livestock to Governor King, but Lord Castlereagh disapproved of the purchase and nought came of it. Then John went to England, with Elizabeth and John junior, so that only Mary and William were left with me, and hardly any person with whom I could freely speak, bar Mr. Flinders and my oldest friend Mr. Harris, and life seemed very drab and purposeless. So I took to the sheep, breeding the fine rams back to the flock and constantly observing the conformation, the fleece and the off-spring, determined to make as fine a flock as I could, and to my ever-lasting surprise I discovered I could do so - ordering the worst criminals in England to my bidding became second nature, and I noticed that the skills I has observed in John had somehow, miraculously, been transferred to me. There was some slight conflict when John returned - I believe I have alluded to that earlier this year in this very volume - but his concern is not for my proficiency, but my "state", shall I say, or the common regard for a gentlewoman. I remind him, that I was not born to that status, and grew up in fields among corn and sheep, and he has given me credit for my "ways" as he calls it, and I truly believe if I would stop wearing his fine boots to tramp the ram yard, he would be pleased! Now, with Hannibal and Edward full of praise for my skill, even Mr. Marsden called me the greatest farmer in the Colony, on the deck of the Buffalo before he sailed away, and I know that all that I do has no other purpose than to provide a focus around which we all may turn, I am indescribably happy and content, whatever the future brings.

7 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-07T18:16:00.000+10:00

The river near my Home. Parramatta was first called Rose Hill.

Spring is a changeable season, with rain and winds followed by warm weather - today started with warmth and blue skies but is now raining steadily. It is so good to have Edward at home again. Schooling remains a challenge whatever we choose for the children - James is being tutored here and that is succeeding but he almost certainly will take that dangerous uncomfortable voyage across the oceans to England, as Elizabeth, Edward and John junior have already, but I don't expect Mary to travel there to school. And the child I feel stirring within me, what does the future hold for that child? Boy or girl? I have spun a needle over my stomach but I can't tell; I need a gypsy! They tell me Mr. Squires is a member of that ancient race - I wonder if any gypsy women have accompanied him - do they share wives in common? Honestly, from the countryside where I was raised, where it was exotic to have seen the sea and spoken to a traveller, to now where I mix with rude natives, help care for their children, give orders to the most depraved criminals of England and know they'll obey, or dine at the table of the Governor of NS Wales and share shoes with his daughter - how could I have or anyone have foreseen the future for me? When Mr. Macarthur and I were to marry, the naysayers from both sides spoke out against it and I shared my concerns too, but more happiness I could never have experienced, nor been held in such respect by a gentleman who has achieved so much. My children delight me and although death has touched us, it's touch has been so slight compared with those around me. God's goodness is awarded without concern for the value of the sinner it seems.
Speaking of which, it is rumoured that the already small number of weddings has diminished considerably, without Mr. Marsden to take the ceremony, and even Christenings have ceased under Mr. Fulton. I hope that such a rumour is unfounded, for it is not a lessening of our relationship with the Lord that will lift this place from the slough of despond and the quagmire of iniquity.

6 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-06T10:46:00.000+10:00

The bond notice posted by Mr. Blaxcell, not to take unauthorised passengers from the Colony.

It is a great concern to Mr. Macarthur that the order under which we live should be subject to upheaval on the say-so of the Governor. Trade and property cannot be safe in those circumstances, and without either this place will languish as a far-flung jail. In that case we had better sell and return to England. But it is easy to see the potential for great profit here - the land is almost free and labour can be had from the Government or by hire, and in either case with more possibilities than at Home. Skilled men and women here demand high wages, but we need shepherds more than masons. John thinks we should advertise at Oxford for dreamy undergraduates who might like to hoist their pennant over the plains, snug in a bark hut with only the Din-go and his Native companion for company! Surely he is not thinking of Mr. Davidson!
Elizabeth has an expression she uses is summer - "It's as hot as love" - and today she said that the weather was "as cold as charity". The wind is from the south, with rain, and a mist hung over the river this morning. If it were warmer it would be bearable, but it is cold. The corn fields of last season are planted again, so the cold rain is being put to some good use. I hope the men have enough shelter, for themselves and for the lambs.

5 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-05T09:11:00.000+10:00

The spiny ant-eater

As a girl I knew many of the animals in our district, even the ones no-one ever saw such as stoats; here there is an entirely different menagerie. The three larger animals most recently found, the Wom-bat, the water mole and this creature, must be the world's most unusual animals. It is believed that this creature lays eggs, although only the shells have been found, and its spikes prevent the native dogs, or our dogs for that matter, from harming it in any way.
Strange as the spiny creature is, so is our strange idea of currency here, where a bushel of wheat can be accounted equivalent to other items and exchanged, under the patronage of Government. Grains and certain beeves are readily exchangeable as currency, determined on a price set by Government. Last year the price of wheat rose seven-fold after the flood, and Mr. Macarthur asked for payment of a Note from Mr. Thompson of grain at the set rate. Mr. Thompson refused to pay at that rate and insisted that the rate contracted and published when the Note was writ was the rate of exchange, so John took him to the Court of Civil Judicature. The Court, which comprised Mr. Thompson's trading partners and the part-owner of his land grant, found in Mr. Thompson's favour, and Mr. Macarthur appealed to the Governor; after all, if one bushel of wheat equals 24 loaves of bread one year, and only six or four or less the next year, the "currency" of the wheat is not existent. On appeal, the Governor barely entered the law room before he dismissed the appeal, allowing only Mr. Thompson to briefly address the Court, and John not at all! Such is the state to which the law is sunk here, that he who sits on the Bench, or trades with those on the Bench, or has a friend in the highest places, is judged the more moral man.

4 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-04T12:43:00.000+10:00

Mr. Caley's plan of the mill at Parramatta

The Court of Civil Judicature has proven an effective means of meliorating Government's powers and we have come to rely upon it. However, John is now very concerned that the Court has ceased to distance itself from the Governor's intervention; this business with the still has worried him. Mr. Macarthur acknowledges that his decision to import a still was made with the very real possibility that it would be dis-allowed on application for entry, but reasoned that the copper boiler is a useful tool and we could easily fore go the coil. The still arrived earlier this year, filled with every conceivable article that could be placed into its commodious interior, and was declared in the ship's manifest, which are always hurried to Government House for review. The still was refused permission to be landed - or rather, that is what should have happened, and instead the still was ordered taken into the custody of the Naval Agent, Mr. Campbell. On discovering that the copper boiler was full of items, the boiler was transferred to my husband's partner's warehouse, Mr. Blaxcell's, while the coil remained at Mr. Campbell's. Now, the Governor intends shipping the stills away, and has asked for the boiler to be returned. John is of the opinion that a good still may be sold at an intermediate port, and does not need to be repatriated, as we can expect little cash value in return. However, Mr. Campbell junior has come to Mr. Blaxcell's storehouse and taken the boiler away, after emptying it. Now John is in Court, seeking the boiler's return and an admission that young Mr. Campbell acted illegally.
Unfortunately, Mr. Palmer at on the bench, uncle to Robert Campbell junior and brother by law to Mr. Campbell senior. And after the terrible judgement the Governor delivered in the case of Mr. Thompson, whom Bligh declared had only to pay us grain at the rate established when the promissory note was written, Mr. Macarthur is now reluctant to trust the Court to impartially decide any matter fairly.
Ruled by fiat, without recourse to impartial justice - what options do the English people here in Sydney have to gain the cherished rights that, as English, are theirs by birth? Fair trails by jury and security in property are looming as rallying calls, not simply abrogated rights.
I have attached a plan Mr. Caley gave me the other day, showing the water race for the mill on the river - we expect to reap a good crop this season, and the milling has proved a problem in the past, so may this mill answer our need.

3 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-03T08:42:00.000+10:00

My son, James Macarthur

Mr. Kerrileau, who tutors James, and Miss Lucas who tutors William and the girls, have arranged for an exhibition of the childrens' work this afternoon, and I believe there will be a performance. Tremendous activity in that part of the house and instructions to "stay away".
It is Spring with blossoms on our fruit trees and the first early plants being harvested. The barley, growing in what had been two cornfields washed away in February's flood, is shooting up and starting to head, and we have 1100 lambs so far. We have 1100 lambs with more to come, and the shepherds have been busy keeping cur dogs and din-gos away. The early grass is acid and we are trailing Yorshire clover in some paddocks, sown with Mr. Marsden's seeds. The health of the lambs seems good and they are nicely wooled at birth, so I hope this is the first generation of full wooled animals.

2 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-02T04:30:00.000+10:00

February 15, when I last wrote in my diary, rained harder than we ever thought possible. To the west the ponds and creeks flowed together to the River, flooding the valley below us where we have 1,000 sheep! Oh, I remember that Day, that Week and it hasn't stopped since. John Hoare, a convict, escaped on our Ship to Tahiti, and we are forced to pay a fine of 900 pounds in sterling, against the Bond and the Governor has asked for the recall of the Corps and the removal of our grant away from Cow Pastures and that it, along with Mr. Davidson's grant, be disallowed: he behaves as a tyrant! Elizabeth has been unwell, now she's fine, we have heard from James at school in England that he is well, William has turned seven and is Edward's closest companion, so he thinks, while Edward is eighteen now and we mustn't forget it! He is a Volunteer, taken over the Command from Mr. Macarthur. Mr. Hawkins writes regularly to Miss Anna Maria King, daughter of our recently departed and so missed Governor King; I have had 2 letters from Mrs. King, from Norfolk Island where the Buffalo unexpectedly put in and the Kings' revisited their ancestral pile and another from Batavia, where they crossed a British Ship. Mr. Macarthur is fine, but could live without the contention with Bligh. That man is a Martinet: he swaggers around, won't acknowledge me, drives by in a chaise with dragoons - or they would be dragoons if they weren't convicts, and a nasty looking bunch that makes me think the Governor carries the pistols in his Carriage as protection against the guard!
Well, it rained that week until I was certain the Hawkesbury River would flood again and sweep away those struggling farmers' flocks. Our River rose to rooftops and several people where swept away along with some stock, but most got away safely. We lost the two corn fields, which went from green, to bare, when the water fell again. It rained and the water rose and Elizabeth's fevers became worse in the clouds of mosquitos, and I had the sheep to worry over also. Her fever became worse, then I remembered that Doctor Balmain, who's gone from the Colony, medicined Elizabeth by wrapping her with vinegar soaked in brown paper and I did the same and it cured her, thank God!
And thank God for the life inside of me.

1 September 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-01T21:20:00.000+10:00

It has been 6 months since I last had a chance to write my diary. There is so much to tell you.

14 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-09-01T05:46:00.000+10:00

Few of us live at Botany Bay, the common name for our Colony back Home

When a ship leaves our shores it carries among other items, our correspondence. whether we are individuals or the Governor. Writing materials by the way are hideously expensive - paper one can buy in London for two shillings a quire will cost us nearly five pounds, not that that is a concern for the Governor.
I was informed today about the Governor's correspondence concerning the Macarthurs: he has written terribly scurrilous things about John to various Government ministers and to his Patron, Mr. Banks. The Governor doubts that wool will ever be a commodity from this place and that the price of shipping is greater than the per pound value of the fleece, which is simply not true. I feel the Governor's friends, especially Mr. Thompson at Green Hills, give him misleading advice about sheep - Mr. Bligh admits he knows nothing about sheep, having spent his life in the King's service at sea. Some naval men are farmers but never Governor Bligh. Mr. Thompson runs a "model farm" at Green Hills, that is supplied with stock of all kinds from Government, and has unlimited labour. Next to the model farm lie Mr. Thompson's own extensive holdings on three sides, and the Governor's private farm on the other. No doubt it is difficult to maintain the boundaries, and I am reliably assured that the mark on the cattle is rarely applied, allowing them to be shifted as needed between the farms, so that what is one day the Governments, is next the property of Mr. Thompson or Governor Bligh. Thompson grows no wool, although his flock is as extensive as our own, he grows only for meat, and lets the hairy rams mix with fine Suffolk ewes, lessening the wool generation by generation, but maintaining his carcass weights. It is from this experience that Governor Bligh bases his calumnies against our wool - as Mr. Thompson grows only hair, so he feels the Colony will only produce such poor fleece. My sheep however are entirely different, showing much more of the Spanish characteristics, and producing fine wool. Other than Mr. Thompson, Mr. Marsden has the greatest flocks, though his are mixed more than mine, as he regards the sale of meat to the local market as his prime consideration.
If our Governor discussed sheep in the way we do, I would be happy for him to refer those discussions Home. But instead of consideration of fleece and breed, his concerns are about the character of the farmer and the increase of our wealth - never has a man more concern about wealth than he! His grants to date have been non-existent, other than to Mr. Palmer, Mr. Thompson and his cronies, and the herd of government cattle is now largely his. In one letter to Lord Castlereagh, he disputes the right of Mr. King to sell cattle to us, although those cattle are the off-spring of Governor Phillip's private cattle, brought here in '88! Phillip gave them to King when he left, and we payed Mr. King handsomely for their progeny that roam the cow pastures. Yet Governor Bligh writes scurrilous comments Home, disputing Mr. King's legacy, and claiming the cattle as his own! It appears that Property of every kind is subject to the whim of the vice-regal representative.
It is raining hard today, so we are all inside - except John and Hannibal who are at the cow pastures - I hope they are dry.

13 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-31T16:06:00.000+10:00

The farms near Prospect Hill

Nothing happens in the Government House but a friendly eye sees it or a friendly ear hears it, or more often, a friendly hand scribes it. These are my friends, convicts usually, who know that the snippet of knowledge they pass to me are kept confidential, and some suitable reward is made to the friend. Many of these friends I've never met, yet friends they remain, kept friendly by suitable gifts sent through intermediaries. These gifts are taken to the barrack and from there by boat to Sydney, or directly to friends here: small amounts of money, bundles of cloathes, writing paper, candles - these are the currency from which knowledge is paid.
Our currency here is unusual, to say the least. It is legal to pay in wheat or beef, at a set rate determined by Government. Or small copper coins, of Portuguese, Dutch or similar origin, may be exchanged up to a value of five pounds. Or notes of hand, issued by people without wherewithal, to others without the means of exchange. I find our old shoes are worth more than gold, given to the right hands - or feet, rather!
If the Governor writes to a friend that he, the friend, "would be surprised at who claims to be a gentleman here", then knowledge of that is soon passed to me. Usually I will let John know, unless it is hurtful to Mr. Macarthur or needs to be kept close. So I am like a spider with her web, stretched across the Colony.
The Barrack here is now a large, commodious building with good arrangements for the officer posted here, and for the men. They have a ration, and we have found that wisely distributed supplies ensure ready hands to call at need. Our outlying farms - not the cow pastures but at Prospect and the Seven Hills, often require judicious protection, and it is valuable to know that our interests are protected because we have looked after those who can look after us. In return, we feel comfortable travelling around, when many others do not. Much loyalty is claimed by caring for others.

12 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-30T12:36:00.000+10:00

The plant that we use to set the hides

Leather goods of all kinds are manufactured here, using seal skins, kangaroo skins and the hides of other, better known animals. Seal skins make lovely soft shoes and kangaroo can be worked into designs – to set the hides, the tanners use a local tree, of which we have an abundance. The shoes Elizabeth and I wore to the ball are made from seal and kangaroo.
Nearly all the vegetable production of the old world is available here – I’m not certain what prices are paid for different kinds, as we grow most ourselves, but I understand many are very reasonably priced. Apples, pears and quinces can be expensive, up to three shillings a dozen pieces, whereas peaches when in season may be had a dozen for thruppence. We have very few berries of any kind, other than a native berry that makes a lovely jam – the Natives call that lilli-pilli. Figs grow luxuriantly and we are over-supplied, however Theos is teaching us to dry them in late summer, to eat during the winter, much as one has currants back Home.
All meat is cheap – even the convicts expect to eat Beef, Pork or Mutton every day, fresh when possible or their ration of salt meat from the store. They pay one shilling a pound for their meat. Wild ducks can be bought for a shilling, from the Natives, as can fish or oysters, at a shilling for a quart pot full.
Cloth, such a damask or other silks, and Indian cottons, are prohibitively expensive and are the first thing one asks any returning to the Colony to procure. We shall live off the items John brought with him, until they are worn thin!
A General Order concerning cur dogs was issued this week, demanding they are all destroyed. Packs of these animals, often of mixed breed with the native din-go and our lurchers, roam near here, a decided nuisance for the sheep but even to be feared by the horses: I have seen a stallion with two or three of these beasts hanging from his neck as he tries to keep them away from the foals, so Bravo! the Governor for this initiative.
John is away with Hannibal at Mr. Davidson’s, the selection he has been granted next to our own at the cow pastures. His too is being reviewed by the Governor, and in the meantime he is seeking suitable shepherds to look after the herd he’s collecting: back Home, Mr. Davidson was not a farmer, so he is learning quickly and has established good relations already with the settlers near-by. He will need a wife to come out – I wonder if he has asked Mrs. King to recommend him back Home?

11 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-29T11:35:00.000+10:00

These flowers grow profusely near our home

At the Ball, Mr. Marsden informed us of a marriage Mr. Fulton celebrated that day, where the combined age of the couple was 80 years, and the bride was just 19: love works wonders every day! I wish them every happiness, here where so few couples are regularly married.
We are at home, feeling rather bereft. Of course, people leave the Colony all the time, sometimes friends, but on this occasion good friends are gone, perhaps forever.
Nevertheless, our life goes on. The sheep we bought are being moved to the farm at Seven Hills and Mr. Macarthur and Hannibal are leaving today for the cow pastures, to supervise the operation there. They are taking two of the natives who live near Prospect hill, who John has been training to ride horses and round up cattle - they seem particularly suited to the trade and comfortable in boots and leggings. I have made offers in the past for young native women to join our household, but experience has shown that after a day or so, they wish to return to the family and friends. I would too!
We are eating grapes until we can eat no more, and Theos has suggested we start converting this harvest to wine.
My letters are all written and on their way; this diary is proving useful, a refuge each day to record some of my feelings and the events, and there is plenty to do on the farm, as well as looking after the children. And yet I'm feeling rather useless - I hope this will pass.

10 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-28T13:33:00.000+10:00

HMS Buffalo
Well, we joined the throng lining the shores to wave fare-the-well to the all our friends – I shed tears for Mr. Marsden too, at the end, for an acquaintance of fifteen years is not easily put aside. He has our wool and may he have good fortune in the voyage and in England. The Kings are heartbroken, sad to past bearing, but it is for the best for them – how the crowd did cheer the Governor when he appeared on deck! The band played throughout the afternoon and many of us took our carriages and continued down the Harbour, waving and calling out, until finally we could go no further and the wide ocean was before us. The Buffalo passed the Heads and bore north, all its flags a’flutter, and the shore battery at South head let out its final hoorar, a fine plume of smoke and the sound of the report. And so an age passes – back Home it would be “The King is dead, Long Live the King” but not so here, and it is with considerable trepidation that we view the future.
We returned to Parramatta on Sunday night and now seem dulled, enervated and listless, and I know John is very concerned for our grant and his relations with authority. The departure of the Kings appears to signal an end to an order that we worked so hard at, and now face an uncertain future.

9 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-27T15:45:00.000+10:00

The mannequin for Elizabeth's dress.

The ball was a rousing success - really, parting from dear friends is a sweet sorrow, it is only our own sadness and the lack of their society that makes us sad. And I know they will profit from leaving here - Mr. King has been dreadfully unwell and if he can survive the trip, will be the better for it. Elizabeth looked very lovely in her dress - it is not a true ball gown, but here in the Antipodes in February, one hardly need wear that. It was sufficient that she shone. As did the King's daughters, especially being danced by Mr. Hannibal Hawkins. Why even Mrs. Marsden, sweet tempered as she is but not known for her elegance, pulled off a fabulous deep blue gown that turned her hair radiant - if the Reverend had taken off his collar, he would have done well too! Governor King managed a turn before his leg became too much and he retired, but enough to know that to those that matter, he will be missed. The only blemish on the evening was the poor health of Mr. Putland, recently promoted to the Porpoise by his father-in-law and sent to Van Diemen's Land, he has returned a shadow of himself, even in full dress. John is still coming to terms with a formal event sans uniform, but dressed in a lovely outfit he brought from Home. How silly men are, about their swords and such; the swords get in the way when they dance!

8 February 1807, Sunday, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-27T13:40:00.000+10:00

Toon-gabbe near Parramatta
Mr. Collins employed an excellent engraver to create many views of the Colony and this one, of Toon-gabbe near Parramatta, is of the area I rode to yesterday.
Today we have travelled to Sydney - and needed to meet several conflicting expectations to get there! The tide and wind, my daughter's well-being, and attending Church all crashed together, but now I am writing today's diary in our Sydney house, looking over the small bay were cockles are still gathered by the natives and some of our own people. Mr. Marsden preached again, but at the Orphan School which is more comfortable - seats, at least, are provided. The Orphan School is Captain Kent's home, converted, and fully paid for not by subscription as one might imagine, but by the ad valorem duties applied to spirits and such brought into the Colony at Port Jackson, collected by Mr. Harris as the Naval Officer. Governor Bligh has commented several times to me that no finer purpose for the collection of duties could be applied for, nor is a place so in need of such an establishment. With so many men missing and children so easy to come by, it is estimated that nearly 1000 children are eligible for the Orphanage were it commodious enough for them. Perhaps nothing else illustrates so well the depravity the place may reach or the good feeling it generates - Mrs. King and Mr. Balmain the former Principal Surgeon were prime movers in the Orphanage, and both will be sadly missed if it is to continue. Some talk is already about that place moving to a spot on the River, almost exactly opposite our Farm, which may suit more, having some space for raising their own food stuff. Now, I must look to Elizabeth and then prepare for the Ball.

7 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-26T22:58:00.001+10:00

The Bridge at the River
John returned with several Paris mannequins, dressed in the very latest fashion (although I suppose they are nearly 3 years out of date now), and Mr. Campbell's store has silks and other fabrics that are exquisite, and there is a shoemaker here, Burgin by name, who can fashion a stylish slipper if he has a pattern. Mrs. Putland kindly lent a beautiful low-heeled shoe that Burgin has copied for Elizabeth and I, and I have sown my gown in a red Damask silk that thrums with reflected light; for Elizabeth I found a light blue cotton material that has sewn into a presentable gown, and we both have lovely new slippers to wear to the ball. Of course I still worry that Mrs. Putland will so out-do us all that we shall appear tatty by comparison, but many years here in NS Wales have convinced me that appearances are always deceiving, and I'd rather appear dowdy than cheap.
The hardest items to procure are decent petticoats and suitable under garments, which never appear on the mannequins. Mr. Campbell has brought in a selection from Bombay, but until his wife-to-be has visited Bombay herself and trolled the shelves, we can not be certain that Campbell's items in any way resemble the latest fashion. Mrs. Putland wears the finest cloathes imaginable but her demeanour convinces me that we have nought to fear in that regard; I am almost certain if I mentioned the difficulty with under garments that she would display hers to us! Mrs. King has already been commissioned to post to us the latest fashion in our sizes, as soon as she gets home.
With Elizabeth still unwell, we shall travel to Sydney together in the morning, and in the meanwhile I rode out past the jail today to see our latest acquisition, in the way of the sheep we bought from Mr. Larra. Funny Mr. Caley called to me and I visited with him, which was fortunate for him as he did not know the Buffalo was due to sail, and had a great collection to send to Sir Joseph Banks. His native servant, Moowat-inni by name, had laid out the crisp white papers that the specimens are dried upon along the grass outside of Caley's house, and when I mentioned the Buffalo's imminent departure Moowat-inni rushed out to commence bringing in the dried collection. Mr. Caley too had to excuse himself to prepare his correspondence, but before he sent me on my way he mentioned that Moowat-inni distinguishes more than 200 species of the gum trees that grow around us - and Mr. Caley says he has determined that their genus name is to be Eucalyptus, from the Greek meaning "well-covered". How interesting that he should so name them - he believes they are the tallest flowering trees in the entire world, and so one comes to look upon them anew. I love the gum trees and have no great desire to grow the trees of Home.

6 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-26T08:16:00.000+10:00

George Street Sydney Town

Our friends are preparing to depart and Mr and Mrs Putland have arranged a farewell ball to send them off with due honour. I've been very busy writing letters and entrusting them to our friends - Mrs. Kingdon, Sir Jo. Banks, and other friends will receive our letters as soon as the Buffalo reaches England. It is a long and arduous voyage - when Mr. Macarthur returned in '02, he took three ships to complete the voyage at a cost of 700 pounds! Everyone expects the Buffalo to have a good voyage - it has been delayed for all of six months while Mr. King recovered sufficiently to commence.
At home, we are preparing to harvest and store the fruits of Summer and plant those vegetables that we know grow well here throughout Winter. Baran-garoo has shown me the vegetable food that she finds throughout Winter but I haven't discovered any uses for these myself. Sir Jo. Banks gave John some European leafy vegetables that have proved very successful here in Winter.
Elizabeth will come with us to Sydney today, even if she stays at the house there, for she is unwell. Hannibal departed this morning on horseback, so there may be something in his attachment to young Miss King - how I hope that is so, even though she is leaving. Surely the Kings will return?

5 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-24T10:22:00.000+10:00

Our Church at Parramatta - much finer than Sydney.

Many aspects of our life here are identical to those in England and others are more like those struck at say Teneriffe or Gibraltar. John tells me that the Garrison nature of the place is similar to Gibraltar or anywhere else where the Military presence plays a large part and I have strong memories of Portsmouth and can see how alike we are to that Town, and to the villages in England too. Similar but different - the shops, farms and factories one sees everywhere in England are missing here, with the commonest house being a shebeen of some kind, selling grog. It is very difficult to find tailors for example and public houses are few, in the sense that we knew them back Home. Mr. Larra's place in Parramatta is quite fine but not common. I have mentioned the people living beneath the trees here - the weather permits that, which it doesn't back home - although I do remember talk of the vagrants who lived in the hedges, and perhaps that is similar. The Church is similar, but it is unique, whereas back Home one has many Churches and if one doesn't like the prelate, one moves to another more suitable place. Here we suffer Mr. Marsden or go without, which I will not do. And even dame schools are not to be had here - our most recent school for keeping books and such like, has closed with the jailing of the teacher for forgery! However, none of that affects us - our Doctor is Mr. Wentworth, we have our own tutor and John does a great deal with the children, and what is on our table each night has generally been produced on our farms. Tea excepted, which comes from China on a circuitous route via India.
We have a busy social calendar for the next few days, as we say our final "good-byes" to our departing friends - the children and I are perhaps more involved in that than Mr. Macarthur, although he is escorting me to the Ball. Mr. Harris called on us today, socially, so I was able again to urge him to ask Mrs. King to find a suitable bride. Harris is rich and that is very attractive, even when other features are not! I refer of course to the distance, for without the Kings our social circle is much reduced. If I were a butterfly, the lack of society would hinder me terribly - but as I rather stamp around in boots and a pinafore with dirty nails, meeting guests is not my first call.

4 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-23T12:06:00.000+10:00

I understand the concerns my far-away friends have for the circumstances of our lives here: do the natives camp in the streets, cooking their rudely caught game?; are Kangaroos and emus seen bounding around our property?; and what is it like to have highwaymen for one's doctor and robbers as the shopkeep? Mr. Macarthur tells a tale of being at some fine dinner in England when such questions were asked of him and he replied that he always employed murderers as his house servants, because he can't stand thieves in the house! Murderers he told the table, are generally quiet and most often scrupulously honest, making good servants providing one manages to keep them calm. Mr. Macarthur tells me he was believed but that one would never believe the horror on the faces of his listeners!
Our house servants are very fine people and none who sleep in the house are formerly prisoners; some of the people who work in and near the house during the day have been prisoners but are no worse for that (none are murderers!) while our field hands are all formerly prisoners, other than our Greek sailors. However, we are considered the best employers in the Colony - Mr. Marsden is often thought the next best - and we try to settle our employees in cottages near the farm where possible. What is different in the colony is that one may be thrown together with people one normally never meets - somewhat like in a coach, I imagine - so Mr. Macarthur at the cow pastures sleeps in a hut with the shepherds, all mingled together, and that would never happen at Home.
We do have emu and kangaroos on our property, but want neither as they are voracious eaters of the plants we love! The largest Emu I have seen stood well over 6 feet, and I have heard of kangaroos even larger.

3 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-22T12:05:00.000+10:00

Mr. Marsden wanted to preach in the Church at Sydney, and he did so last Sunday, but it remains such a tumble-down affair. I understand Mr. Marsden has joined the Buffalo, along with the wom-bats and kangaroos, bats and Rosellas, the Kings and the poor unfortunate Captain Short, whose wife has just given birth to another child, for what promises to be an awful voyage. The delay, among other reasons, was that insufficient bread has been loaded, with the intention of filling with rice at Batavia, thereby however exposing everyone on board to the pestilence of that place, so now the bakers of Sydney are converting every weevily grain to bread, suitable for the voyage. The Barley is got in and there are moves to malt sufficient of that grain for the Buffalo to provide beer for the voyage, but who, only 12 months ago, could have imagined the Governor sailing home in such penury. A disaster such as the floods at Green Hills this twelvemonth past, has consequences beyond the immediate loss of life and livelihood, although it has stimulated the trade in pork from the Pacific, and has raised the cost of labour. Those are the very reasons we have withdrawn our stock, with wheat a guinea a bushel and mutton paying any price, yet we know that for a flock to produce fine wool, the wethers need be retained and not sold only because the price is high - I have sheep now that will produce much more than half a pound a head, as the Governor claims is all we can expect.
We bought most of Mr. Larra's sale of sheep - they are an untidy lot, the wool is not worth the spinning, and I suppose we will now face the inquisition of all as to why we won't slaughter. Well, we won't! Even these poor lambs will breed with the Spanish rams, and fine wool be had.
Mr. Macarthur tells me that the prisoners that escaped - in an open boat in this heat! - have been found again, baked red from the sun and parched dry from a lack of water, marooned near Hunter's River, in co-ee of soldiers who found and then arrested them, despite the old story of their ship sinking, the only survivors: every time it seems that such are caught, they tell the same tale. Only one of the soldiers says "Ain't you the blacksmith from the Lumber yard at Parramatta?" to which the poor old lag admitted he was! They'll be seeing a lot more of Hunter's River, I feel.

2 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-21T07:31:00.000+10:00

A romantic, fanciful view of our house.

It is the Governor's contention that my Lord Camden merely intended the cow pastures to be one of the sites on which our grant might be based, a decision made by a man no longer in power, from a distance of thousands of miles, without local knowledge, and subject to review. Just as the decision to grant poor Captain Short his few acres was made, and then subsequently overturned. Our government here is a strange beast, comprised of capricious undertakings, and Captain Bligh seems the worst person for the position. We understand that the Governor is now solely a civil appointment, not naval at all, and so one cannot but help wondering if some more appropriate man might be found to take on this arduous task. All governing are worn to the ground, for service in a military outpost is hard work as John knows. The rations are poor - no one can survive on tack and salt meat, washed down with liberal grog, and we put Governor King's infirmity down to the hardships - why, even the word itself seems just: hard ships, for hard it is to govern 2000 prisoners in a strange land surrounded by enemies, a year from relief, with a substantial military presence to manage as well, plus the exploration and the incessant writing, and justifying of every decision. I am glad that John is now plain Mr. Macarthur. I was opposed to even his command of the Volunteers and am glad that Edward is here now to shoulder that responsibility.
I must finish my letters for the Buffalo - we hear she will sail on the next tide.

1 February 1807, Sunday, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-20T14:25:00.000+10:00

Well, what a day in Sydney we've had. Visited the menagerie on board the Buffalo - and pitied poor Mrs. King. Mr. King has suffered terribly since his voyage here, when he contracted a rheumy fever, and shipboard life no longer agrees with him. Having wom-bats to look after won't make it easier - I fear Anna Josepha will have many patients to look after on this voyage. Mrs. King assures me of her determination to return, and seemed to allude to certain feelings between her eldest daughter and our Hannibal, and of course her grant, that she informs me is to be called "Thanks". I shall miss Anna Josepha very much, for even when John and the Governor were at odds we retained our friendship. Isn't that sometimes the way for we women, not having a sword in our hands? What foolishness does being a gentleman sometimes involve - not that I'd say a word, of course. Knowing how close to death came Colonel Patterson, for instance. Womens' concerns are other than those - such as how to make the Church in Sydney even reasonably comfortable! Without pews, or hangings, or a tower or bell - we could have been Lutherans!
Our house in Pyrmont is fine, with lovely outdoor settings looking over the little bay near the Harbour - it is not conceivable that a Government fiat could cause it destroyed, yet that is what the Governor has promised. We will have war, I fear.

31 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-19T22:14:00.000+10:00

The Church in Sydney
Our lives are sometimes hardly lived at home and I can feel that time coming upon now. Losing the Kings is not only sad, but busy too. Mr. King had hoped to return to the colony but Governor Bligh's commission is without limit, so Mr. King may only return in some other capacity - just as John has done. That would not be easy for any man who hasn't worked as hard as John has building a future, and no one here has worked so hard as my husband. The heat is oppressive, and we had a huge summer storm yesterday afternoon, hail like stones and rain that filled Clay Cliff Creek overflowing, and no way could we take to the boat to sail to Sydney. This morn the sun rose shining without a cloud, so if we intend leaving then we should look to that before midday. Mr. Marsden is preaching tomorrow, probably at the Orphans' School, but possibly at the new Church building in Town. The state of our Churches leaves much to be desired - here we lack any pews, the windows do not open and bats have already occupied the roof timbers. In Town, the walls went up and then tumbled down, so this is the second attempt at this site, and very little ethereal beauty can be glimpsed in its drab walls. The governor has issued a proclamation stating that the leasehold on Town lands may not stand and no construction may take place, a material concern as we have three Town leases, one with our house upon it. Serjeant-majors Row will be pulled down, we have heard. Oh, why can't the Governor get along with governing and leave aside the petty quarrels he insists upon, as if only in the personal prerogative is the authority of the Governor proven. John has pointed out to Mr. King and Mr. Bligh that their commissions apply to the military and civil establishment, and the unfree, but so far as our legal opinion is concerned, has no authority over the free settlers who are flooding here to take advantage of the fine climate, cheap land and abundant labour, and without which this place will never amount to more than, say, Martinique. I have no wish to see our land, our house, our possessions ripped from our hands by illegal acts, and the Governor should beware of passion for our home.

30 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-18T17:55:00.000+10:00

Can people develop normally in NS Wales? I ask myself that about my children, for I know others who are raised by convict servants and suffer for it. The servants have been convicts, some of them, but none in the house. Away from the farm though and all differs - Mr. Hunter when Governor informed me that of the 5,000 nearly then in the colony, only 1200 were still under sentence, the remainder expirees, or soldiers, civil and free. We had no arrivals during the War, so I imagine now even more are free and expirees, but they live substantially different lives - from scallywags of the worst kind to Mr. Taylor, our police and the sadly-departed Mr. Barrington, although the violence surprises me still. Even among the military there is too much calling out over the tiniest slights - and every emotion seems magnified. As Hannibal said recently, "a man can be slighted here for much less than at Home and with greater consequences. Personally I didn't speak with more than half of my society, but that wouldn't do here!" He was right to say that - only since returning from England and having sold his commission has John not gone out sworded. I understand Edward has a pistol somewhere on his horse, secreted away, and the hunters go in pairs. And yet so few must cooperate - we have Bligh breathing over our shoulders, stealing our land, claiming it a lease not a grant, while Mr. King the governor granting it is still here on-board! If Mr. Marsden would cooperate, and bring along his supporters the Governor would quail and relent. Unfortunately Mr. Marsden is sailing away, so who knows what the future brings?

29 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-16T14:27:00.000+10:00

Fort Phillip - building has re-commenced

Once again the heat has struck. Yesterday at Seven Hills the sun was so strong that my neck and shoulders are burnt raw today, and today there is not relief from the oppressive heat to be found anywhere. We all take to the main rooms during the middle of the day and tell poor cook to leave the kitchen - she makes the most delicious lemon drink with sugar and juice and, I think, some tartar. We drank 5 gallons during the day.
The sheep that Mr. Larra has for sale seem very well conformed, so I may bid on those if John allows it.
We pulled some cucumbers yesterday for dinner that weighed over two pounds each, yet they were as sweet and delicious as you could hope. Cut along the length, with a dash of salt, they seemed to repel the heat. Why is that even when in the sun all day, the curcubits are always chilly cold inside? One of nature's little miracles - Elizabeth loves them.
I have quite a few fellows bringing water to the garden late in the day - I'd hate to lose trees in this heat.
One Sunday, soon, we are going to Church in Sydney, and I've arranged to see Fort Phillip, which is again being constructed. It is hard to believe that with the monopoly government has with the Store and tariffs in port, that it should always cry poor. I expect we will be in Sydney again soon to see the Kings once more before they leave - oh, parting is such sorrow, and not really so sweet!

28 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-15T15:30:00.000+10:00

A letter from Governor Bligh to Capt. Short of the Porpoise

I believe I have mentioned that we may have walked near to the corpse of a poor Sydney woman, murdered and left in the forest near Mr. Wentworth's, and today Mr. Macarthur tells me they have found the scoundrel who has done this - and I'm sorry to write that he is an Irishman - who is one of the brothers' Kenny, who ran a school in Sydney. Kenny has been hung in Sydney and his body is being brought here today to hang also, as recompense for the beastliness of his murder. We have heard of Kenny before - he set fire to his neighbour's field and burned an entire crop of wheat and untold damage, from which he somehow escaped due punishment. Anyway I shall certainly avoid Town for the next few days, not wishing for I nor the family to see such a sight.
My work takes me to Seven Hills, where the Spanish rams are to be run. It is time for that now, and the rams were taken there by cart the day before yesterday, held in a paddock but not for long, I don't doubt, so I'm off there today to ensure the men know just how to fence off the ewes and limit the expenditure of the poor beasts. Too much harm has come to good beast in this colony, for want of adequate supervision. I do not speak of Mr. Marsden there, who has done an estimable job of breeding a heavy carcase with good wool covering, and from not so fine sheep to start with. But our sheep, and especially the rams Mr. Macarthur brought recently from England, will add considerably to the wool's fineness, which is the character the English mills seek most. Rough hair suitable for a poor man's blanket may be grown anywhere, but fine wool is what we want, to cover the shipping cost and poke Spain in the eye. And the people demand that we release several thousand head for mutton! Are they mad - the future of the Colony rides on the back of our sheep, for fine wool needs shepherds, shearers, classers and the ships to take it to England, all of which toil will provide work for many years to come.
But in will confide to you, dear diary, that I have risen from bed with the cricked neck and sorest back, so off to the Hills, then back before its too late.

27 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-13T21:23:00.000+10:00

The Wom-bat, a digging creature

Mr. King is taking a menagerie Home. When we partied on the Buffalo the other day I was as surprised at the quantum of animals as the variety - London will be agog.
We've had Mr. George Barrington staying at Parramatta these last years - Barrington the famous thief! He's an Irishman - well, he was an Irishman, he's passed on now of course. John had him to dinner once, rather mischievously with Mr. Hassal and Mr. Oakes, although to their credit all the men behave magnificently. You really would have thought Barrington was raised with a silver spoon in his mouth, so well did he take to it. I thought him the daintiest muffin eater I've ever witnessed, using his fork to carefully break the bread and eating with his pinkie extended. He told us, retold I imagine for the hundredth time, the story of Prince Orlov's snuff box, pilfered by Mr. Barrington from beneath the Prince's nose, while taking a pinch. The prince's box was famously worth 50,000 pounds, encrusted with jewels by a master jeweller in Moscow. The prince was also famous for rarely sharing a snufta from his box, and Mr. Barrington affirmed this made the Prince a most tempting prospect - if we are to believe Mr. Barrington, it was only a pinch of snuff he wanted, not the box. The Gentlemen had been to dinner, Barrington giving as good as he got round by round, and he'd fully shared the considerable dinner expenses until they were at the Theatre. Barrington had shared his snuff so much that his tin was empty, and at that point the Prince proffered his. Barrington bowed and turned to the ladies, offering the tin but each refused; he took a sniff and returned the box to the Prince, who immediately pocketed it. Barrington then feigned a tremendous sneeze as if the snuff were stale - the Prince's snuff being used so rarely, it was presumed to have staled in the box - and during the occasion of fixing himself, he exchanged snuff boxes, his for the Prince's, right in the Prince's pocket. Barrington's case was made to the same dimensions, but of tin, however when the Prince patted his pocket he felt the reassuring shape. Barrington was certain the parsimonious Prince wouldn't share his snuff again that night, and it was only when his servant was dressing him for bed that the theft, or substitution was discovered.
Barrington feigned innocence, and called the reputable Gentlemen to prove that the jewelled box had not been on the Prince that night, for certainly none of them had seen it, although several boxes were circulated for their mutual pleasure.
The box was already sold and on its way to Paris that night, war notwithstanding. Barrington pleaded habeus corpus and would have been scot-free, except this is how he finished his story. "It was a Great Lady, ma'am, who finally betrayed me", he told us in his lovely soft brogue - he had trained for the theatre himself, I understand. "She recalled that I'd offered the Prince's tin, the jewelled box, to the ladies at the theatre, proving the Prince had the box upon his person that night. It is to her, ma'am, that I owe my reform, for she was thinking to do right by me. I was sentenced to die, but she applied to her husband, the judge in the case, for my mercy. And so ma'am, here I am and I believe I have done more good for my country by leaving it, than ever I could have achieved had I stayed".

26 January 1807, Anniversary Day, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-12T07:11:00.000+10:00

Governor Phillip and the foundation of NS Wales

Today marked the anniversary of Governor Phillip landing at Sydney Cove and here in Parramatta we had a wonderful celebration in the Town Square, with all at the barracks on parade, surrounded by many of the country people from round-abouts. In nineteen years the Colony has grown five or six fold, and may support itself at any moment, should never a government ship call here. I suppose that we are living now beyond the limits of settlements from Captain Phillip's time, although he established a military post here very early. John believes that the Governor camped on our property when he first explored here and points the spot to any inquirers.
Mr Wogan told me the most extraordinary things about the early times, such as having his Clavichord placed beneath the trees at Sydney Cove and playing a Boccherini piece to the natives, to their astonishment, and then dancing with the same fellows for hours on end when he'd finished playing.
I was at first reluctant to believe Mr. Wogan, although of course we have the Clavichord here. I couldn't imagine the dancing, but Governor King shewed me some sketches he'd made of the men dancing with the natives, emulating the spread-leg stance that the native men adopt throughout their performances. Mr. King went so far as to demonstrate the knee-knocker, or rapid percussion of the knees that the natives use at the climax of their dance. Our relations over the past twenty years have been so mixed - and now either many natives have moved beyond the settlements, or their simply aren't so many left, because I noticed this season a diminution of numbers, especially of the young women and men. Even here, with our dogs and the two men Mr. Macarthur keeps in the field, hunting game, the available foods must be shrunk, although it appears that sufficient bats and duck abound to fill many bellies.
The ruckus in Town, with cannon and gun-shot, kept the natives away from our celebrations, when a splendid tea was served in the afternoon when the sun had cooled a little, with dancing until the wee hours I suppose, for those that stayed. Hannibal returned to the celebrations, after seeing us safely here.

25 January 1807, Sunday, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-12T06:45:00.000+10:00

Another Sunday! And soon it will be February and that flys by. How the year gets on. The rain last month has brought all the trees and gardens on, the maize is man-high and the wheat full - a harvest we need to support the Colony after the flood. Tomorrow is Anniversary Day in Sydney, and the barrack here is flying its kite, the place is all abuzz; at Church today there were so many officers and at least 200 men mustered outside, although I noticed only a smaller number went in, proving something that John has said, that few of the them are Established - they're often living in some arrangement outside the barracks, especially in Sydney Town.
Mr. Marsden reported his imminent departure and I could see people were genuinely sad to see him going Home; he is a curmudgeon though. Mr. Marsden is taking a Report on the State of the Colony home, urging greater obedience to the laws of the Church of England as the cure to our ills; anyway, he is spruiking the wool, taking yards of the Parramatta cloth woven here, and fine wool from his and our flocks. I'm sad to see him go and can only hope that the Yardley's will look after Mrs. Marsden well - I understand that no servant has ever left their employ, which is remarkable. They are offered so much here, the free worker that is. We pay 9 shillings a week all found, including shoes and cloathes, and more if he has a family - we have 3 huts for the married and 2 barracks. Women sleep 'next the kitchen, and of course Mrs. Lucas in with us, as is Mr. Hannibal Macarthur. And we are all perfectly cosy in our little house. But I've heard that some free labourers are earnings nine shillings a day! Not found, though, and somewhere safe to live can be hard to find, I understand; still I doubt not that they are much better off than stuck in England, in the nether world of some Town. And bread is tuppence a loaf less here!
Yet Mr. Marsden's report will urge that no short sentencers be sent here - but then where will the men come from that the farmer needs? If none of the transports ever become expirees, who'll labour for us? Or are we to be duped by government, who will have farm hands galore and will crush us at the General Store? "That these men whose sentence is short, maybe only seven years at the start and they've spent a year on the voyage here, and half a year on the Thames, and they're playing fiddle-de-diddle in a twelvemonth, being on licence on a farm at Liverpool or somewhere near here - and I think the reverend dislikes the ones at Prospect the most - and they've taken a mistress and soon enough there are children; then a place comes up for a man on a ship to England and his time is up and he's away, leaving mistress and child behind him, the woman to starve or find another mate and the child to be a burden on the society, kept at the orphan house. So he's proposing that none who'll ever be free be sent, but only lifers that will labour away for the government forever. And he being a magistrate, I expect the Civil will have their servants assigned, not paid for!
Mr. Blaxland's was broken into in the last seven days, I hear, and his watch and personal papers taken. I paid five pounds for this quire, not quite 200 sheets, so I'm unsurprised that a man is burgled for his paper!

24 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-10T16:01:00.000+10:00

The convicts' rising of 1804 and the military response

It's said that women live their lives through their children but I've always needed more than that. Like a spider at the centre of a giant web, when someone plucks a strand in High Street I want to know of it, but I cannot understand the rebellion of the Irishmen against us. Mr. Marsden is convinced they will rise again when he's away, and the Governor has asked for a declaration of willingness to bear arms - and an inventory of all weapons in the Colony. Of course Edward volunteered immediately, even William wanted to go, and there are sufficient men in Parramatta to have their own regiment. I'd rather keep my boys about me, all the same.
In '04, when the croppies rose at Castle Hill and swept down on Parramatta, Mr. Macarthur was still in England and I, alone with the children, fled to Sydney in the middle of the night. I was so fearful, fearful for my life and the lives of the children and this current unrest is frightening me again. This time I have three grown men to protect me but what is that against a thousand Irismmen? So the bucolic existence of which I am so proud is sometimes held by a slim thread, and civilisation as we know it is not entrenched here by any means. There is more liberty, certainly, among the poor natives in their forest than we as free women and men possess here. No wonder John railes against oppression - is ever an Englishmen to suffer the total abscence of civil rights and the imposition of tyranny? Away, to work.

23 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-09T10:04:00.000+10:00

The sun, rising over Port Jackson

From when the first glimmer of light appears in the Eastern sky, the natives here commence singing. So far as I can tell it is always the same song, and Bar-ang-aroo Benelong's wife told me it was calling the sun to come up - the song is sung very softly, in harmony and parts, and I have heard the laughing jackass respond with his call to the singing. To hear such a song is to know how far from Home we are and to rejoice in that distance, or at least I rejoice in that. I have no wish to return to England although I support the children's wish for the best schooling - to me, here in Parramatta with the warmth of summer and the soil sprouting its produce after the rains, and the animals in good health, I cannot see why anyone would want to live elsewhere. When we first came here, Mr. Balmain the surgeon took me on a tour of the streets near where the windmill now stands, appealing to my charity I suppose, and we stopped at the home of an old crone, nursing a baby boy at her breast, and Mr. Balmain explained that many women, previously without children, had issue here. I was glad of his honesty as I hate the pretence of protecting we women from all pain and the everyday sights and sounds of humanity - we who give birth! I don't want protecting from my imagination! Mr. Macarthur is very good like that - although he wishes the able hands to manage the flock, and they do, he doesn't object to my work with the rams, keeping the stud books and so on, as he knows that I enjoy it and do it well. The heat is rising again today - I write now first thing in the morning, of hope and expectation - I hope Elizabeth is not distressed by the heat today, and perhaps we will find a place near the river where she and William can play. Now, to work.

22 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-08T09:59:00.000+10:00

The Women's factory in Parramatta

Of all the inhabitants of this place it is the women who most suffer deprivations. They often live with men to whom they are not married, and if the men can cadge work on a Home-bound ship, they willingly leave their women here, encumbered by children and all. When Mr. King established the first Orphan's school in the year '01, it was estimated that nearly 400 children were without parents, either because their father had left the colony and their mothers were not able to care for them, their parents were dead or most distressingly, both their parents had left the colony. The Factory here provides a place for indigent women to work and if necessary sleep, but we are without those basic provisions such as Poor Houses and charitable homes, that exist in London, Portsmouth and elsewhere in England. It has been a special mission of Mrs. King to look after those who cannot look after themselves, and I expect a large crowd will line the shores when she departs in the Buffalo - her friends first, and behind them a mass of women and children to wish her fare-thee-well. Mr. Macarthur has told me of a woman murdered near here - it appears we may have passed close by her remains when returning from Church, and Mr. Oakes, who is the constable here, has already spoken to Mr. Macarthur, to ask if he did see anything. As with the poor family I saw the other day, there is often no-one to miss these poor beggars. We are but one family in the middle of perhaps 5,000 souls, so there is little we can do.
I have looked through the fleeces from last year's clip - at least what is left after selling most of it to the Womens' Factory, where it is wove into cloathe - and there is some of the finer stuff left. Mr. Marsden wants to take several barrels of wool with him, still as fleece, and Mrs. Marsden tells me he has some good fleece but not enough, so we'll add what we have to his barrels. I have no doubt that this place will become the finest sheep land that England has ever dreamed of, when the breed is improved sufficiently. I already have a small number of sheep of the Spanish breed, brought here in '97 by order of Governor King, that have bred and bred again to the Spanish rams, and their fleece is remarkable, though I don't have sufficient yet for Mr. Marsden.

21 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-07T11:10:00.000+10:00

Queen Charlotte

Monday last was the birthday of Queen Charlotte - I did not attend the celebrations in Sydney although I believe they were very fine. I've always had a soft spot for an engraving I own of the Queen early in her reign, with her children and dogs, that appears to combine regency and domesticity so nicely. Poor thing though, with her husband barking as madly as the dogs! That is a cruel fate for woman to face, that the struggles of coupledom should be faced for so long and then, when one hopes to profit from the long association and gain composure with one another with fewer toils, to lose one's partner to madness seems a great loss. How happy then to hear that the King's madness has passed again - and may it stay away!
I am preparing for the departure of our Kings, who even now are aboard the Buffalo in the Harbour - but then, where else could they go? I have offered them our house here, or the Sydney house, after they were so kind to me before Mr. Macarthur returned from England, putting me and the children up in Government House, sparing no comfort. However, they are on board, sans Mr. Marsden who will preach until he leaves, but accompanied by, I believe, two wombats, two kangaroos, more paroquetts than can be counted, several opossums, in all a veritable menagerie. I will miss them though - Mrs. Putland appears kindly enough, and very gentle to me at least, but I first met Anna Josepha more than 15 years ago and for some time we were the only two gentlewomen in this place and were thrown together of necessity, and while she did spend much time on Norfolk Island, whenever she were in Sydney she was here. Since Mr. King has been governor we've been especially close, even when John sent the Governor to Coventry, I remained in touch with Anna Josepha. Well, she will prosper in England and poor Philip is too unwell to remain - how the running of this place does take it out of men.
I heard today that Mr. Larra the auctioneer has over 200 Ewes to sell on Monday fortnight - I wonder if they are one-toothers that I might bid on them? Perhaps I should send Macallister, our best overseer in the ways of sheep, to have a glance at them. Not that we absolutely need more sheep, especially if John wants to turn them into mutton, but good Ewes wouldn't go astray. What about that wool for Mr. Marsden - perhaps I can look through the clips tomorrow.

20 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-06T10:02:00.000+10:00

The Landing Place at Parramatta

A wharf cannot be expected so far from the true harbour, yet the landing place suffices for much of the produce brought from Parramatta. Several of the settlers have lump boats capable of carrying grain, at the shipper's risk - in other words, if they overfill the boat and grain is lost, it is the farmer who suffers. Mr. Macarthur so opposes this system that he urged Governor King to insist that the ship owner bears the risk and so does not over load, but that was agreed only for the Hawkesbury. Young William went to the landing place today, as he will any day when permitted, to observe the soldiers and settlers and the general activity. I wonder if we could let him wander so in England, whereas here nothing seems more natural. Surrounding by uncivilized natives and incorrigible convicts, it is only snakes that we fear!
Much planning today for the Kings' departure - I may travel to Sydney tomorrow to further these plans, if I feel all is well at home. John is at home, so I needn't worry. Perhaps Elizabeth could come with me?

19 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-05T08:31:00.000+10:00

Capt. Glen's sketch of Mr. Macarthur's armed schooner "Parramatta"

Mr. Macarthur's trading in the Southern Seas has become quite an enterprise since his return, and he now has two ships on almost continual voyages, the Argo and now also the Parramatta, Captain Glen. I don't know how he finds the time to superintend all of his activities, but no-one would ever accuse John of being a laggard. The Parramatta is scheduled to trade in the islands to our north-west, primarily to purchase salted pork, for which we first transport the barrels and salt and we have a factor in Tahiti who organises the production of pork. John tells me he can bring 70,000 pounds weight of pork in a voyage, at a value of 5,833 English pounds in money, at a cost of 1,720 English pounds for barrels, hoops, lids and salt, and even that may be moderated with side trades, although buying a ship is not an undertaking for the faint of heart. Our advancement and the fate of this place march hand-in-hand, and much of the concerns and worries lay on John's shoulders. Thank Heaven our home is a retreat from these.
I heard today that Mr. Marsden has the Governor's approval to voyage Home, seeking more hands for God's work here and in the Southern Seas. Mr. Marsden has previously told John that he will take samples of our wool and his, if we have any fine.

18 January 1807, Sunday, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-04T16:44:00.000+10:00

A gathering of young men for a ceremony called Yoo-long Erah-ba-diang

How the Sunday's roll around! Our usual start to the day was somewhat interrupted by the arrival of a large group of young men accompanied by their fathers and older brothers, asking for bread. I don't remember seeing so many young men gathered together, and I recalled that the women had told me earlier this week about the boys and men needing all the ducks that could be caught, for a feast after a ceremony. I must assume that the ceremonies continue - however even Mr. Macarthur could gain no intelligence about the nature of the event.
After Church, Mr. Palmer drew John aside to discuss the grant, and I believe he was seeking an inducement to progress the matter on our behalf. Mr. Macarthur however is not interested in advancing Mr. Palmer at all, and cut off any further discussion. John asked Hannibal to lead his horse home, and sent the children in the cart, so that he and I could walk back to the farm.
In some ways Parramatta is like a provincial English town - every house has its sign, mostly offering "Foreign Liquors", but shoe-makers, saddlers, cordial-makers and tailors also advertise their wares, and just as Mr. Marsden fears, all were open to business even on a Sunday. The usual miscreants caroused beneath trees, and the barracks were a riot of noise, with many comings and goings. We walked past Mr. Wentworth's house, and entered that quiet that is surely unique to this country - only the huzza of the crickets was heard and even the birds were silent. It seems that John has a plan to legally challenge the Governor for possession of our land, based on the contention that the Governor has authority only over those under sentence and those governed by the Articles of War, and we fit neither category. The stumbling block - and I'm sorry to have used that expression in the circumstances - is the attitude on the bench of Mr. Judge-Advocate Atkins, who almost certainly will subscribe to whatever the Governor insists upon. Mr. Macarthur proposes to use a certain note he holds, to encourage Mr. Atkins to impartiality, although my experience in this place suggests such a course is fraught with danger.
Funny Mr. Caley met us walking through the forest - he has no idea of pretension nor place and immediately struck up a conversation. I know that in many ways John would rather not notice him, but I have all the time in the world for this brave young explorer, and desired him to walk with us, to view young olive trees that have struck so well. That ended our discussion of private matters, and when we were home, it appeared young William had grazed his knees, and one thing then another, and then to bed!

17 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-03T16:29:00.000+10:00

Our Farm near Parramatta

Whatever happens we have a strong family, firmly bound by our shared experience here in this new land, and we are wedded to our soil. The great lack in NS Wales is manure for the soil and plough animals, but John's foresight has overcome that lack and we comfortably farm our land and feed many people from them - feed them, cloathe them and give them shelter. Apart from the sheep - which I agree are smelly and troublesome, and hard to love, although I do very much - we all love the gardens John has built around the house. I love telling my friends back Home such as Mrs. Kingdon, of the variety of plants that we grow. We have tobacco, a long-leaf Virginian variety, and many herbs in a small field of rue, hyssop, wormwood, bergamot, lavender and rosemary, as well as as much mint as we need for sauces and cologne. Mr. Macarthur planted orange and lemon trees years ago and these are trained into a cone shape - he has built a peculiar frame that straddles the trees for picking - and we make a lovely conserve of bergamot and lemon. We have figs both black and white, and our grapes are tended by a man from the Peloponnese who knows all about these fruits - I have read Pliny on the grape, and if I could speak comfortably with Michael I'm certain I'd find he was following that old sage. Mostly we keep the grapes as table fruit and conserves, but I find the leaves make an excellent vehicle for stuffing with mint and diced lamb. We make some wine, but John's stomach cannot take too much wine or brandy. There are copious peach and nectarine trees, that are eaten fresh, and the older fruits were made into a type of schnapps last year, under Mr. Schaffer's instructions. I will attempt them again this year, rather than feeding the fruit to the hogs. Yesterday I picked some rather too green apples that Elizabeth and I enjoyed, if only for the novelty of eating the first apple of the year.

16 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-02T10:32:00.000+10:00

What a terrible day and it appears it is all my fault. John was so angry yesterday that he felt unable to devote any time to pretence and frippery, and so did not attend Mrs. Putland's soiree, and when the Governor inquired as to his whereabouts, I pleaded his ill-health. Little was I to know the consequences!
This morning John and Hannibal were in high spirits and took the two flightiest stallions on a substantial ride, and they met Governor Bligh on their return, as he rode out to visit the "unwell Captain Macarthur". John could hardly excuse today's high spirits with yesterday's indisposition, and so he was found out. I believe he tried conciliation first, but was met by the Governor's coldest shoulder, and unfortunately the Governor has prevailed on Mr. Marsden to ride with him on his visit. Now I'm afraid all is lost and that only doom waits for us - the Governor was livid and turned away from John without so much as a "Good day", feeling I suppose that he had been put upon and slighted. Of course, Marsden's smirk was larger than his head, if that is possible!
I fear today is a turning point, turning to the worst. Whatever courtesy existed will be diminished, and I perhaps have lost a friend in Mrs. Putland. Oh, woe.

15 January 1807 part 2, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-01T12:37:00.000+10:00

Governor Bligh - a pencil sketch

Mr. Macarthur may well contend with Mr. Bligh, but I see no reason for Mrs. Macarthur and Mrs. Putland not to enjoy one another's company. Today was quite the finest event we've seen staged here in Parramatta at this time of the morning. Anna Josepha attended, along with Governor King, and Mrs. Palmer made her appearance along with her sister, Mrs. Campbell, myself and my girls, it was quite a lovely do. Mrs. Putland's chef excelled again and good French champagne was served along with English porter and the finest tea, so really no-one could complain. The Governor was asked to describe the famous open boat voyage he was forced to undertake when he was put overboard from his ship - I had not been aware that his had been the only Commissioned vessel to have sailed without Marines, and that subsequently the policy was forever altered to preclude any Royal Navy officer from being left in such straits. Mr. Bligh certainly don't lack bravery, and a very civil tongue today, surrounded by we women, at least. A marquee was erected next to the House and acceptable and liveried servants circulated. I was asked to play a tune and fortunately refused, for Mrs. Putland demonstrated some mastery on the clavichord, and I would have been shamed. Elizabeth however made quite the sight, easily accompanying Mrs. Putland on all the latest songs from Home, and several Continental numbers as well. A s several of the men-folk made an appearance later in the day - Mr. King and Mr. Marsden, along with Mr. Palmer - the Governor inquired as to the whereabouts of Mr. Macarthur. "He's not well, your Honour", was the best I could do. I could hardly state that he was apoplectic about the rumoured actions of the Governor himself, could I? I do hope we can find some reconciliation on this point of the grant.

15 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-08-01T06:38:00.000+10:00

Mrs Mary Putland (nee Bligh)

John and Governor Bligh are at loggerheads. I could not write last night after the contretemps at the end of the day. I visited with the Governor's elegant daughter Mrs Putland, who is staying at Parramatta to escape the heat of Sydney. That is not entirely sensible, as I informed her, for if the westerly wind blows, this place becomes an oven. Like our's, her house is at the top of a rise - her's faces east and so may catch whatever breeze springs up in the afternoon. Govt. house here may have certain advantages over the Sydney house though - the garden here is extensive and full at this season, and the creek to the harbour is very pretty.
Mary and I shared tea - her tea service is exquisite and the French cook did her proud with cakes and savouries. She must long for children, of course, so I steered our talk away from the mundanities of domestic affairs to topics such as art in London, about which I know nothing! When Mr. Macarthur returned from England recently he brought many books of etchings of the latest works, and one small Nolleken's bust-o which is my treasure. I believe it is a bust of Mrs Walsh, one of Mr. Banks' circle. Mrs. Putland of course has seen so much more - she drinks tea with Mr. Banks, knows Wilberforce and calls Mr. Phillip "my friend"! How we prattled - she has the knack of not making me feel provincial and seems genuinely interested in my my plans for improving the breed of sheep we have. After tea the Governor arrived and was all kindness and "how do'ee do's?" - but I sensed ambiguity. I returned home, but first received the Governor's invitation to join Mrs. Putland and some others for a "Parisian Brunch" later this morning. But when I arrived home it was to discover Mr. Macarthur steaming with rage, as it certainly appears the Governor, on the recommendation of Mr. Palmer, will "refer the grant to England". Whatever for, when it is a grant from the King himself? Does Mr. Bligh really think he is so far above the laws of England, newly arrived here in the colony? Well, after those contretemps I couldn't write a word - and now I must finish and prepare for the morning brunch, an event I heard of but not experienced.

13 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-07-30T13:01:00.000+10:00

The prices we are paying for food stuff this year.

My friends in England ask me about living here but I have lived here so long since I left England that I am now more interested and less likely to understand about living there. It was just before Christmas 1789 that I last saw my parent, and even then it was a fleeting visit, after our ship returned to Portsmouth before we finally sailed. More than 60 people work on this farm, with free labourers, convict labourers, two convict women workers, and all the parts of the family, and none of us have too much free time. I am more often visited than a visitor, but now that Mr. Macarthur does not hold a commission, visits from the Corps have reduced. Mr. Harris, our neighbour, is perhaps the most consistent guest, often seeing us morn and night. Later today however, it is I who will be visiting, calling on Mrs. Putland at Government House, Parramatta. Mr. Harris tells the most delightful stories and I have learnt to disregard most as untrue, but his latest tales about the Governor's daughter are very far-fetched. According to Mr. Harris, Mrs. Putland took her language and grammar lessons on the quarter-deck with her Pa, and ends all her sentence with "d...ned" - highly unlikely. We've met several times and I've found her delightful: today she is attended by all the officers of the Corps for a route this evening, from which I'm excused based on family responsibilities, but young Hannibal has an invite and I'm sure he'll enjoy it a great deal.
If I am lucky, I can converse with another intelligent woman - excluding my daughters and their tutor - not more than twice a month. I've often badgered Mr. Harris to marry, and he has agreed to do so, "as soon as a convenient lady is found". From what I've heard, it is not any lady's convenience that is hampering his connections.
So I am more likely to be found with boots and smock, than lace and stockings, and in the garden more than a reception room. Such is the life that one leads at the ends of the English empire, and there are many compensations. In England I would not still have so many of my children with me, and our partnership, John and I, is the happiest imaginable. John is away again today, having sailed down the harbour this morning in a new small boat he has built.

12 January 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-07-29T11:54:00.000+10:00

Children have been the centre of my day today. I do miss Jack but I love having Elizabeth and Edward back with me and school in England is reassuring, as education is our greatest hurdle here. Of course Penelope, Mrs. Lucas, has made a wonderful improvement in the school work for Mary, late though it is, and William and James the second. She has had Elizabeth in her tutelage for five years with French, Geography and Mathematics, along with a credible hand and some sewing, more attributes than I ever imagined in the young lassy going Home in the year '03.
For myself, I love having them in the vegetables as we did today, hoeing the weeds and bringing them water. We worked in the cool of the morning, until eleven o'clock when din-al-le-ong, meaning "many women" came to our gates and we gave them food. John has loaves baked at the barracks and we gave them many to take away, and Mary gave one young woman a bright red carrot and she ate the entire carrot with nary a wash, and then the green tops also! It was such fun, we can hardly understand a thing but my girls stand to have their skirts fingered and their ruffles felt, and their blonde hair compared to the black curls of the natives. Many of the women had been swimming, catching "yurong" or black ducks. It is wonderful how they do it, swimming below the water with a reed they breath through, then diving beneath the ducks and catching them by the claws of their feet, drowning that one and swimming on, unobserved. I have sat in the bushes near the creek and watched them.
Our nephew has joined us here in the Colony, who is a Hawkins, my sister's family, and he too is a blessing. Since John is returned I cannot imagine a happier time, if not for the actions of others who refuse to obey their orders, but here on the farm it is paradise, in our rather extended family setting at our very extended dining table, with two extra leaves John brought from England along with Mrs. Lucas and dear Mr. Hannibal Macarthur.
He was very taken by the charms of our visitor's today, which reminded me of a rather risque event when some young natives who visited us, asking for bread, naked as Mother Nature made them, and Elizabeth and I took loaves out to them and suddenly to a man these half dozen young men "stood to attention", so to speak. Elizabeth and I dropped the loaves at the gates and ran back to house, giggling like demented women. Such are the risques of the Colonial life. A pun, I perceive.
Today we gave food to din-al-lee-ong but they had no ducks for us. Their menfolk and boys have gone for a ceremony and taken all the ducks that could be caught with them - apparently tonight, when the ceremony is over, the boys and men fall upon the ducks, roast and eat them. The drawing I've attached was given to me by one of the French sailors, a Lieutenant who drew beautifully. I said yesterday that they can be demure even modest, but the opposite too.

11 January 1807, Sunday, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-07-28T09:12:00.000+10:00

Mr. Rowland Hassal and Mr George Oakes joined Mr. Marsden in giving the service today. Mr. Oakes spoke of the state of supposed innocence of the natives in the Pacific, alluding to their worship of false gods and consequences of such worship on their morals. Mr. Marsden used that theme to continue from last week's sermon on the evil of commerce with rum, again piercing the officers with his preserving needle-like eye. How his hypocrisy shames us all! Does he not pay labourers with rum? And now that he stands on so high a horse, look at the shambles in which this church is sunk! We have stools for John and I and the children, as do many of the officers, but Mr. Oakes' family stands throughout the service, all for the lack of a pew! And that with both a lumber yard and a carpenters shop adjoining the church! Really, I somewhat regret my gift of oil to Mrs. Marsden, although it is so often the way that the high moral ground adopted by the bible beater takes no account of the state of his own family. John and I are so lucky, I know, that we share our view of the world and do not seek to impose it on others - John tells me that several of the missionaries, such as Mr. Oakes and Hassal have been, have been tremendously involved with local people, of both sexes! Yet they will preach to me on morals! Mrs. Marsden will still be welcome at my house, but I gave her husband no more than a curt "Good day" as I left the church this morning. Really, something must be done with the interior - of the church and the men who are charged with it.
I looked for the poor family on the way home, but they were not to be seen. The smoke from the fires has gone, and I suppose the fires also, and the heat was settled by such a storm yesterday evening. Now the path home is no more than damp, and our cart rides with nary a bump. The children too seem well, and it is time for me to write Home to Edward, and some of our friends. Mrs. Lucas did not feel well enough to attend church today, but the darling woman has been busy in the kitchen, putting a leg to the spit and convincing one of the young native girls to spend the morning turning it. She is a pleasure and I continue to bless the day that John decided we needed a tutor for the girls, and a companion for me.

10 January 1807 by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-07-27T14:06:00.000+10:00

Ben-ni-long's brother

When we first arrived here, seventeen years ago this year, Mr. Collins who was then the Judge-Advocate (and went on to govern Van Diemen's Land), introduced John and I to several of the native people, including of course Ben-ni-long. He also introduced his own namesake - Collins - and suggested to John that he too might like to "adopt" one native, as he had done. Well, John chose instead to maintain friendships with many of the local people. When we built our house, we used shells from the substantial mounds that line Duck Creek to make the lime for mortar: these mounds surely are evidence enough that the natives have lived here since time out of mind. Every year around this time many natives from around the Cumberland Plains congregate along the river side, where there are many ducks and bats and the thin tough roots called "darug" that they love to eat so much. Almost invariably we discover their presence when the first naked natives arrive at the fence, calling out for bread, and John has ordered 20 dozen loaves to be delivered here every second day for the next fortnight. Generally, if the women call out I'll greet them and pass over supplies, but not usually when the men call, but today was different. Of all the natives, one man in particular has been our friend, introduced originally as Ben-ni-long's "brother", although we now understand that to be a rather nominal relationship, and in fact he is the son of Maugoran, a man who lived just to the west of the Government Farm at Rose Hill. Ben-ni-long and he now share a campsite - the word in their language is "ngura", meaning "where I live" - situated on the northern bank of the harbour, opposite Arrowanlly. John understands that the "wan" in the place name Arrowanlly - the name refers to the sand flats down from Duck River - is also the distinguishing name for the people who live there, as Ben-ni-long describes himself as "wan-gal", meaning man of Wan, I think. Today, Bidgee-bidgee called out "Misses Elisabet" from the fence, and I took him bread. As I tell my English correspondents, although without clothes, they are not precisely naked, as they stand and sit in attitudes that disguise their lack of clothes. And wearing clothes, as Ben-ni-long and Bidgee-bidgee will do when passing through the Town, can somehow seem less natural. Bidgee-bidgee said to me that Ben-ni-long will be along soon; the phrase he uses is "by and by", and in exchange for my gift of bread, he gave a short club to me, saying "good for yurong", meaning it could be thrown at the ducks along the creek, to provide food. If the children can find no use for it, I'll package it and send it Home, where such items are esteemed as curiosities.

9 January 1807, Friday, by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-07-26T11:20:00.001+10:00

The Hawkesbury

Mr. Marsden's paper on the women convicts was our point of discussion yesterday, when John returned home. Mr. Marsden believes that without the sanctity of marriage there is no sufficient reason to keep men here, and they desert their families at the first offer of a place in a Home-bound transport after their sentence is served. Mr. Marsden intends to petition to Government to not send any men with seven year terms here, but only the lifers, and he wants the Governor to insist on marriage rather than allowing cohabitation. That and the payment of wages in rum do seem to be the cause of so much degradation. Yet we know, or at least regularly see the people of whom he speaks, unlike back Home where the poor are anonymous. Here we often know at least their names and something of their background. Even poor Mcgee and her daughter, drowned in the Harbour near our farm were known to us. I recalled to John the creatures we saw on Sunday morning and John referred to them by name! The Sunday miscreants are a family, Kennely by name, whose Hawkesbury farm and possessions were all lost in last year's floods. They've moved to Parramatta but don't have a dwelling, choosing instead to live like the natives, beneath the trees. They receive their store allowance, John tells me, and the man works around the Town as a scavenger. John had seen their farm and it was a poor one, but they were off the Stores, apparently, before the flood. One of their children - John believes it was the daughter - was swept from the mother's arms, to her death, the body never found. And that event evidently threw the woman into despair. Mr. Thompson paid them, in rum, for their grant - and so here they are, living 'neath the trees at Parramatta. I understand their boy has been offered a place in the Orphan School but Mrs. Kennely refused that - I'm sorry to have thought so harshly of them, on my way to church. Nothing, it appears, can be done except hope that the despair that has engulfed them may one day be relieved.
I know how welcoming that despair is, when you lose your child.

8 January 1807 by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-07-25T12:40:00.000+10:00

Mrs. Marsden did us the honour of calling today. She had heard that young Elizabeth has been unwell in the oppressive heat and came bringing guavas, Elizabeth's favourite fruit, from the Marsden's trees. It is wonderful, the charity and feelings for others that drive some. Elizabeth Marsden brought news, too, of her husband's plan to return Home later this year, to seek approval and funding for a mission to New Zealand. "Aren't you frightened for him, with those cannibals?", I asked, but she replied, "That God is his shepherd and protects him!"
Mr. Marsden has written a paper on the shocking state of the women brought to this place and hopes to make some action take place by bringing that Home - Mrs. Marsden asked if I'd accompany her after we'd had dinner, to see Mr. Mealmaker, the Superintendent at the Factory, to discuss the women kept there.
I sent Mrs. Marsden's gig back to Town, and we set off - my daughter Elizabeth, Mrs. Elizabeth Marsden and myself - as a trio of Elizabeths, to call upon Mealmaker at his home above the river. He has worked hard to provide useful employment for the women not assigned, but he reported that the equipment he has is too poor to weave more than a fustian cloth, and convincing the women to spin a yarn of sufficient strength is proving wearying to him. Honestly, his house is no more than a hovel - it is a concern that Government will do nothing to help this endeavour. Before she leaves the Colony, I must ask Mrs. King who is to take her place on the Orphan Committee, and whether any funds are available to buy new looms. Mrs. Marsden agreed that her husband may buy such looms in Yorkshire for a song, now-a-days, with so much of the weaving at Home being done using the new water shuttles.
Well, I didn't write twice yesterday, and now the sun is setting on another day, so I shan't write again. But one last thing - Mrs. Marsden mentioned that they were burning tallow candles again in the parsonage, so at least as I write this by my good oil lamp, I can rest comforted that I was able to send 10 gallons of fine seal oil back to the Parsonage, so that they too can see without the smell, smoke and discomfort of a guttering tallow stump. I expect next to hear that some poor family in Town has been blessed with the oil - the Marsden's will take so little, bless them!

7 January 1807 by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-07-24T13:26:00.000+10:00

Merino ram

I must count the people working for us - it always seems someone new is appearing and so far as I can tell, no one is leaving. Mr. Marsden was mentioning the other day that, by luck and observation, very good servants are found and retained and I think him right. We have a few more than 40 people working on the farm here, with another dozen with various house duties - and any number on the farms. John pays for them all - the new grant will receive kept labourers, but one never knows if the type allowed us will be suitable. I need good shepherds and they prove hard to find - and those that are found have recently been moved to the Hawkesbury, by order. We have 5 rams that need to tup with about 1000 ewes, but we don't want to tire them out or see them reduced in value - by careful breeding, we may have more suitable rams in seven seasons, and too many mistakes now would put that program back dreadfully.
The weather remains very hot and smoke appeared above the ridge towards Toongabbie, so it appears more of the terrible fires that strike the forest here may have sprung up. Our wells - there are two house wells - would only yield buckets, so naturally I worry when that smoke appears.
Perhaps today would be a good day to reckon for whom this diary is written - I tell too much of my closest thoughts to pass it on to the children, and no-one wants to read the vague scribblings of an untutored girl at the end of the world, so perhaps it can remain my own personal sounding block. If the heat does not wilt me, perhaps I will write again tonight.

6 January 1807

2007-07-23T07:53:00.000+10:00

Governor King

Our dear friends the Kings are almost ready to depart, so as one new friend is gained, another is lost. In one of the ironies of our story, John and the Governor had nought to do with one another, and John may even have sent the Governor to Coventry, but since John's resigned his commission, the Kings are our best friends, along with Mr. Harris. I don't know what I'm to do without Anna Josepha, who is the nicest woman in NS Wales and my dearest companion. Our children play together and together we plan their futures, yet the Governor's recent illness seems to have passed and it is certain that they will board the Buffalo and sail away from our lives. John informed me last night that some skullduggery has taken place with land here in Parramatta, and Mr. Bligh has a grant on the north of the creek while the Kings have thousands, or hundreds anyway, of acres near Mr. Marsden's main farm. How peculiar that the new Governor grants hi'self acres while refusing Lord Camden's command to allow John the cow pastures! The new Governor's grant is made out to Mrs. Putland, his daughter, while Governor King's grant is made out to Anna Josepha, while every rood we own we have purchased, bar the original small piece. What form of justice is this? And John is certain that no right is extended to a Governor to grant willy-nilly, but they all seem to think that being Governor is next to being a King! We have written Home about Lord Camden's grant and the King's will take that correspondence along with our earnest good wishes Home. How I wish that we were going too! But then I'll look around and see the extraordinary beauty of our situation and know that the children at least are better off there, while our fortune is being made here. If only we could sell this for its value!

5 January 1807 by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-07-22T07:32:00.000+10:00

So the devils surround us! With Mr. Marsden on the one side and Governor Bligh on t'other, how will an honest family earn its keep? Our lovely Dorset rams came nigh the house yesterday - what beauties they are! When John was away Home, I became the ram master by necessity and they became my own. Leaving the girls, strapped into John's old Hanover boots and leggings I'd set off across the fields to the tupping paddock for to see to the rams - trimmed their horns, clipped the wools from beneath their tails, and set them to the ewes, all by myself. John doesn't like to see me doing that now, but he'll have nothing to do with the sheep, exclaiming that the stink of their lan clings to his clothes. And so it does - the smell of their spunk especially! But it is a fine smell, for it's the stink of our prosperity - we have 1,000 ewes to put to the five fine rams the King did sell us, and by next season, with the lands at the cow pastures, our stocks will surely rise!

4 January 1807 by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-07-21T14:09:00.000+10:00

Every Sunday we go to the newly building Church in Parramatta, to hear God's Word. It seems so little to do, and making our way there today I was revolted by the spectacle of already-drunken cloddies, laying in the shade. I know that Portsmouth streets are shocking too, but this is my home and I'd rather that we took steps to prevent this useless waste. I suppose, as John says, they have finished their working week, and without them buying our rum, we'd have less, but there is a law against serving rum on the Sabbath that somebody must have broke. John says to turn away, but the memory stays.

I'm driven in the cart because Elizabeth is distressed by the omnipresent heat; John has ridden. He cuts such a figure on his horse. Captain Abbot waited for us next to the barracks, with the brigade, and my horse shied dreadfully when the band started - it's a blessing to have good people to help, I think, and thankfully the groom is very proficient. Poor Elizabeth is even more restless however.

Mr. Marsden was in good form today: "Rum is the scourge of the colony", said he, "and the Barter of Spirits has long been a very general & serious Evil in the Settlement – it has been productive of jealousies, misunderstandings, and many unhappy differences amongst the Officers", looking directly at the Regiment's officers. He has no decorum, although we all appreciate he has the best interests of his flock at heart. I am glad to get Elizabeth home, where the shade of the vines keeps her room cooler. I prayed to God for her deliverance.

3 January 1807 by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-07-21T10:57:00.000+10:00

I found this drawing of John and I made by the officer of a Spanish ship when we first arrived in the colony. How young and innocent we both look! and how well we hid the anxiety we felt at being marooned in this cast-off settlement; time has wrung so much from us, and has it given back? Well, if we had stayed we may still have progressed, but not as we have here, although the long periods of being apart may not have happened. But the Continental wars have raged and all the men are sent there, so perhaps it is all for the best. And we are here together!

2 January 1807 by Elizabeth Macarthur

2007-07-20T14:16:00.000+10:00

I fear John has duped them all and will be found out. George Caley for one, knows all about it! And he's here in Banks's employ and will have word back to England in a trice, I think - he surely has already done the survey. Governor King owned the original cattle and claimed all the off-spring, refused by England, and Camden then organised the land for John, cattle inclusive! We are furious to have that taken away from us by Governor Bligh. After all the work my husband has done to the success of the Colony - is it to be for nothing? Apparently, 'tis!

Elizabeth Macarthur's diary 1807

2007-07-20T13:54:00.000+10:00

January is hot in New Holland, or Australia as Governor King has Christened it. So hot a multitude of bats in the trees along the river die and fall into the water, from the heat. I find it unbearable. John is gone most of the day, riding around the property, working I suppose. Anything it seems, to avoid the blow-up I know is inevitable with new Governor Bligh.

Only the other morning I heard the new Governor and my husband talking loudly, each it seemed with a differing view - perhaps of the land Lord Camden has arranged for John, at the Cow Pastures. "What of your sheep, Sir, what of your sheep do I care, Sir? I'll hear nothing of the damned sheep, nor of the land that the Government cattle are on - it will not be thine! You have been given that land, by Heaven, but you shan't keep it!", said the Governor. And I heard John reply, "Not heaven, your Honour, but Lord Camden has promised that land!" It was quite the smartest thing I've ever heard!

It's only sparing at the moment, but it will soon blow up, I can tell!

Elizabeth and David