Posts Tagged ‘Mansfield Victoria’

In my own Grisdale family line we find the usual array of professions: yeoman farmer, blacksmith and carpenter for example. But it has always intrigued me that my third great grandfather, William Grisdale, was a Dancing Master in and around Penrith for about sixty years. Luckily William’s teaching, his Balls and his dancing school were repeatedly reported in the Cumbrian press and thus we can get just a flavour of his life and the legacy he left.

We know that William was a Dancing Master because he is listed as such in the censuses of 1841, 1851 and 1861. He was by that time already quite old, having been born in Matterdale in 1785, the sixth and last child of Dockray blacksmith Wilfred Grisdale (1711-1795) and his second wife Ruth Slee (1759-1838). But even when he married Mary Charters in Penrith in 1815 when he was thirty he was already said to be a dancing master. As we will see he’d started this vocation even before that.

The English Dancing Master

The English Dancing Master

What was a ‘Dancing Master’?  Well as we might expect he/she was a teacher of dance. Wikipedia tells us something of the tradition:

The Dancing Master (first edition: The English Dancing Master) is a dancing manual containing the music and instructions for English Country Dance. It was published in several editions by John Playford and his successors from 1651 until c1728. The first edition contained 105 dances with single line melodies; subsequent editions introduced new songs and dances, while dropping others, and the work eventually encompassed three volumes. Dances from The Dancing Master were re-published in arrangements by Cecil Sharp in the early 20th century, and in these reconstructed forms remain popular among dancers today.

Another recent writer says:

For those of you not familiar with Playford’s The English Dancing Master (1651), it was the first collection of popular dance tunes published in the British Isles. It was published in London and sold to the English country dancing market… It was a big hit, and it remained in print through various editions until 1728. It’s not exactly traditional music. It was popular music intended for an urban audience.

The various editions were updated with the hits of the day—songs from popular plays and special music used by professional dancers. However, quite a lot of the material can be found in traditional circulation… English country dancing is first mentioned in the Elizabethan period. Some of the tunes were probably at least 100 years old when they were published. Many of the older tunes existed as songs rather than strictly dance tunes. Nowadays there are two styles of what is called “English country dancing” One is based on Playford tunes. Apparently the tunes are usually played in a style based on late 19th century classical music….

But the type of dancing William taught was more like this:

The other kind of English country dancing is the kind of dancing they do out in the country in England. This is true folk dancing, done to folk tunes played in folk style. It doesn’t really have anything to do with Playford, which has been upper-class stuff since the 17th century. John Playford (1623-1686) was a successful London music publisher. A royalist, he kept a low profile during the Commonwealth and came into political favour with the return of Charles II. He catered to the taste of the emerging bourgeois class which preferred country dancing to the more formal galliards and other formal dances popular with the nobility before the Civil War. His business was carried on by his son Henry. The actual title of the work was: The English Dancing Master, or, Plaine and easie Rules for the Dancing of Country Dances, with the Tune to each Dance.

From where had William acquired his love of dancing? How had he started to teach? To be honest I have no idea. None of his ancestors and, with one exception, none of his descendants or relatives had anything to do with dancing. William had moved from Matterdale to Penrith sometime prior to his marriage in 1815. The couple had at least nine children. Perhaps William at first followed his father’s profession as a blacksmith or maybe he worked as a carpenter as did many of his family? If he did he didn’t stay at it long before starting to teach dancing which was obviously the love of his life.

As I mentioned, there are dozens of newspaper reports telling of  William Grisdale the Dancing Master, they span several decades. Basically what William did was move from town to town teaching young people to dance. paid for by their parents, and then a Ball would be staged to show off the results. All the reports tell of the great success of these balls and how they were a great credit to Mr. Grisdale, who as he gets older is sometimes refers to as Professor Grisdale or, more often, ‘the patriarchal dancing master’. Here are just a few of my favourites:

Carlisle Journal 13 June 1851

BALL – The merry little village of Wreay was, on thursday evening week, the scene of much gaiety and pleasure. Mr. Wm. Grisdale upon whose head seventy years have shone, has been endeavouring for some time past to fashion the young limbs of  “fair maidens and buxom lads” of the village and surrounding neighbourhood to the graceful evolutions of the mazy dance, and his labours, which have been followed by most decided success, were brought to a close with a ball on the above evening. Rarely, if ever, has so gay and numerous an assemblage of plump, rosy-checked lasses and lish, hardy, light-hearted youths, been gathered together under the hospitable roof of  “old Sally” . The”kings and queens” discharged their duties with true dignity; and the “hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,” in which cross-the-buckle, the double-shuffle and the “cut,”  were all rendered in first rate primitive style, reflect much credit upon both Mr. Grisdale and his pupils. The “bow dance,” however, was the great attraction of the evening, and in finery and gracefulness would succumb to few of our more posturing dances. The young ones having finished their spree, the older folk, inspired by the fire of early days, took possession of the floor, and kept up the pleasure of the ball until the grey mists of morning warned them to depart, which they did with hearts filled with joy.

Wreay, Cumberland

Wreay, Cumberland

Two years later on 16 December 1853 the same newspaper reported:

Dancing School Ball – Mr William Grisdale the patriarchal dancing master, held his ball at the house of Mr Thomas Furness, of Loangwathby… Mr Grisdale is upwards of 74 years of age (sic); yet, though his head is silverd o’ver by time he appears as “lish” and active as ever. He has taught dancing for upwards of half a century, and has always kept within a twenty mile circuit of Penrith, so that at the present time there are few middle aged women in the district who were not his pupils in early life . He has taught three generations. He taught the grandmothers of some of the young misses who were recently his pupils in Longwathby.

And then on 14 April 1854:

Old William Grisdale the patriarchal dancing master, has now a dancing school in Penrith Town head. He is teaching the fourth generation, having taught the great grandfathers and great grandmothers of some of his present pupils.

Naval cadets dancing a hornpipe

Naval cadets dancing a hornpipe

William was still a dancing master in 1861, aged 76, and might have continued somewhat longer. So it seems that William had brought ‘joy’ to four generations of his Cumbrian dancing pupils over a period of about sixty years. He had his fair share of tragedy too – two of his daughter died quite young – but he led a life doing what he wanted to do. Sometime in the 1860s William had to stop his teaching, possibly due too ill health, and the sad fact is that he had to enter Penrith’s workhouse where he died on 30 May 1866, his death only getting two lines in the Carlisle Journal that had followed him for decades. His wife Mary died two years later.

Just a few words on William’s family.  In the early nineteenth century his older brother Wilfred (b 1782) had moved to Carlisle and from there he emigrated with his family to Canada, just after William’s marriage, there to found a veritable Grisdale dynasty in Canada and the United States.

Another brother Gideon (b 1777) moved to London and became a jeweller; his daughter Elizabeth ‘Minnie’ Grisdale first became a ballet dancer at the Drury Lane Theatre in London before marrying a famous painter, moved to Boston and then returned as a widow to hawk fish in Falmouth! Perhaps Minnie had been influenced by her dancing uncle William?

Wilfred Grisdale, William's son

Wilfred Grisdale, William’s son

There is much to tell of William’s children. I’ll only highlight a couple of them. Their son Wilfred (1815-1893) was a carpenter. The family story is that Wilfred loved horses. The picture I have included here might suggest that. He married twice and had eleven children, one being my great grandmother Agnes Grisdale. Another son, also called William, emigrated to Australia in 1853 with his wife and child and there had many adventures.

It’s not much of a story I know, but I just love to think of William teaching country dancing to the good youngsters of Cumberland and Westmorland in the nineteenth century. Perhaps he even knew Levi Grisdale, the landlord of the local tavern called the General Lefebvre. Levi was much more famous, but he and William were related, both being descended from Joseph Grisdale and Agnes Dockray of Dowthwaite Head in Matterdale. I guess we’ll never know.

Early Australian towns were rum old places and none more so than those that grew up as a result of the Victoria gold rush in the mid nineteenth century. One of these was the town of Mansfield, lying 200 km north-east of Melbourne. It was just south of here, at Devil’s River, that William Grisdale and his family had settled shortly after their arrival in Australia in 1853. A few years later, local newspaper reports give us a flavour of William’s life in Australia.

The Delatite River

Devil’s River lies “below the Paps, close to the junction of the Delatite River and Brankeet Creek”. The legend has it that earlier explorers camped overnight “and were so frightened by the sounds of a corroboree being conducted nearby that they called the place Devil’s River”.

At the beginning of January 1871, a horse belonging to missing gold digger James McNally had been found “in one of Mr Chenery’s paddocks” – in Martin’s Gap, near Mansfield on the road to Jamieson. When the horse was brought into Mansfield, “a large party was formed, who started to search for the missing man”, who had already been missed by his mates in December. On the 3rd January, McNally’s body was discovered “at a place called Martin’s Gap some three miles from the Devil’s River Inn” where William Grisdale was landlord. Grisdale “who first came upon the body” was in the company of Mansfield farmer James Owen. The Benalla Ensign reported: “There is some reason to believe that the missing man James McNally may have met with some foul play.” It added that “suspicion attaches to an individual upon whom the police have their eye” – although we never hear explicitly who this might have been.

The body, which was lying on the ground, with the head entirely off, and… was some little distance from the trunk. It is difficult to say whether the head was cut off, or whether its separation was the result of decomposition and the attacks of animals. The body was extended on the back, and near it was an open knife, which is stained with blood. From the appearances it is imagined that a terrible murder has been committed.

An inquest was called which was to be held in William Grisdale’s nearby Devil’s River Inn, to where McNally’s body had first been taken. The first witness to give evidence was James Owen:

I am a farmer living at Mansfield. I knew the deceased James McNally, and recognise the body from the clothes as being that of James McNally. It is about five weeks since I saw him alive. I was searching for him yesterday, as he had been missing about a month. I was searching with about 20 more in a paddock belonging to Mr. Chenery called Wilson’s paddock. About 4 o’clock in the afternoon I found the body of deceased in a small gully, lying amongst some long grass. The deceased was lying on his back, his legs and arms spread out. His head was lying about a foot from the body. There was a knife close by his right hand. (The knife was produced, and was a common pocket knife.) The knife was about an inch and a half from the right hand of deceased. There was a small bone of the neck lying between the head and the body. The body was a perfect skeleton.

William Grisdale was present when I found the body. John Nixon came up when I called out, John Prendergast, and John O’Shea, the shoemaker, of Mansfield, and some others whose names I don’t know. The hat of deceased was found up the gully about 25 or 30 yards (away). We searched Wilson’s paddock because it adjoined the one in which the deceased’s horse was first found. I have known the deceased for seven or eight years intimately. I never observed anything eccentric in his conduct. The deceased was generally a sober man. I have seen him drunk, but after drinking I never observed anything odd about him that would induce me to think he would commit suicide. I should say that the deceased was a most unlikely man to commit suicide. There is a good station fence between the paddock where the deceased’s horse was found and that in which the body was discovered. The horse was not likely to leap the fence. I knew McNally as a digger at Mount Bulla. He had three mates. The last time I saw deceased he said that he and his mate Thomas Egerton could not hit it (off). McNally said that he and Egerton had had several quarrels. McNally complained that Egerton would not work properly. The body did not appear to have been dragged, that is the clothes did not show it. McNally never told me that Egerton had a bad feeling towards him. I think the bad feeling had been blown away. Where I found the body, there was a mark like that of a bullock having laid down, but the ground was not otherwise disturbed. The head was lying in a higher position than the body. Besides Thomas Egerton, McNally’s mates were James Walker and James Williams.

The coroner, Dr, Rowe, and the jury of 14, then started to hear the statements of various other people, including McNally’s brother William and James’s digger partner at Mount Bulla, Thomas Egerton. They heard about James’ character, whether he was a drinker or not and what was his frame of mind when he had last been seen leaving the Mount Bulla diggings on December 9 – on his way to stake a new claim for himself and his three partners. There were also a lot of questions regarding what James had been doing in Martin’s Gap, which was not on the path from Mansfield to Mount Bulla. The dead man’s brother William cast a lot of aspersions against James’ partner and “mate” James Egerton:

My brother continually complained to me about Thomas Egerton, one of his mates. He complained that Egerton did not do his share of work, and that he would watch the party when they wore stripping the paddock where they were working. I advised my brother to leave the claim, but he said he would not give Egerton the satisfaction of leaving.

My brother never mentioned anything about threats or violence between (himself) and Egerton. Egerton said to me after my brother was missing that he had been murdered, that he knew the man who did it, and would have him before he took his clothes off. This was said about eight days ago, when I and Egerton were looking for my brother. Egerton’s words were – ‘It is no use looking, the man has been murdered. I know the man, and will have him before I take off my clothes.’

Under cross examination from Egerton himself, William McNally conceded: “I never heard my brother accuse you of an attempt to swindle him out of a sixpence. I never heard him say who had charge of the gold.”

Egerton went on to tell what he knew of McNally’s last intentions when he left the Mount Bulla diggings on December 9th, and how a few days later he had “searched for him for five days, never taking off my clothes”. He refuted what William McNally had testified: “I did not tell William McNally what he says I did. One word in his last statement is incorrect. I did not say I ‘knew’ the man who killed his brother, but ‘I believed’ I know the man…. I also said, ‘but it is no use until the body is found.’”

The reason I had a suspicion of murder was I knew (the) deceased went to see his brother at Mansfield, and I did not know what took him to Jamieson. That made me suspect foul play.

The original Mansfield Court House was replaced by this one in 1879

The inquest was adjoined and reconvened three more times more at Mansfield Court House. Egerton was examined again at great length. He talked a lot about distances and walking times – still unsure why McNally had been in Martin’s Gap. Other witnesses described how they had seen McNally near Martin’s Gap shortly before his presumed murder and how he had not gone to Mansfield as he said he would but gone instead to Jamieson and was seen returning towards Mansfield before he disappeared. The witnesses’ statements are given in some detail in the various newspaper reports and they are well worth reading in full.  I will quote from the summing up in a minute, but first, William Grisdale also gave own his statement, one of only two times we hear him speak, more or less, in his own words.  “William Grisdale deposed”:

I live at the Devil’s River Inn, and I am a publican and farmer. I know the deceased. He always called at my house when he passed. He has never stopped there at night. (I) last saw him alive on 4th of December. My wife saw him at my house on the 9th December. (I) was in Mansfield on that day – all day. (I) got home about 7 o’clock p.m. About 8 o’clock Willie Little called and inquired about a bullock that he had lost. Told him my mate David Watson and I had been working on the road at the Gap the night before and we had not seen the bullock. Little went on towards Sawyer’s drays which were camped about 150 yards from my house. No one was in my house but David Watson and my own family. After supper, David Watson went to bed, and I also went to bed. No one came to the hotel during the night. On the evening of 9th of December, I met Thomas Sawyer on the bridge at the Devil’s River. He said he was going to Wangaratta to see his wife, who was ill. (I) was searching for the deceased with James Owens when the body was found. The deceased was lying on his back with his arms and legs spread out. His head was separate from his body. An open knife was near the deceased. It was in Wilson’s paddock where the body was found. The body was found nearly in a line from the foot of the range through the opening by Stewart’s house to the late Mr Henry Tomkins’s. The knife, a white-handle one, was found about an inch and a half from the right hand, the handle towards the hand. The grass was undisturbed except a space of a yard and a half. The appearance of the ground was such as might be caused by a scuffle. The deceased’s trousers were unbuttoned and half way down the thigh.

Answering a question from Mr. Egerton, William finished:

I do not know of any man being on the ‘spree’ in my house about 9th of December last.

And that’s the last we hear of William Grisdale in this matter. The judge then heard extensive evidence from the police and Dr. Reynolds who conducted the post-mortem. The doctor gave all the graphic medical details and confirmed that McNally had received a heavy blow to the head before he was decapitated.  “I would have no hesitation in stating that he died first by a blow, which rendered him insensible, and that afterwards his throat was cut.”  In his summing-up Dr. Rowe memorably remarked: “The ‘knife found by the hand pointed to suicide, but a man committing suicide by cutting his throat did not in the first instance give himself a blow on the head.”

The jury, “after consulting for two hours”, returned the following verdict:

That the said James McNally was found dead in Wilson’s paddock, near Delatite, in the Shire of Mansfield, in the colony aforesaid, on the 3rd day of January, 1871; and that he was murdered by some person or persons unknown, but there is no evidence before this inquest to show when he was so murdered.

Not William Grisdale but his brother Wilfred – still in Cumberland

Enough excitement one might think for one year. But no! During the previous nine months, William had also testified at two other inquests at his Inn; one regarding a mysterious poisoning and another related to a huge and deadly gunpowder explosion at Devil’s River. But that’s for another time.

Sources

 Suspected Murder at the Devil’s River: The Argus, January 10,1871; The Empire Jan 17, 1871; The Mansfield Independent, January 7, 1871; The Benalla Ensign, January 14, 1871.

The Argus, January 9, 1871.

The Supposed Murder at Devil’s River: The Argus, January 23, 1871.

Murder of McNally: The Benalla Ensign, January 28, 1871.

It was probably with a mixture of hope and trepidation that William Grisdale boarded the 1300 ton sailing ship Genghis Khan in Liverpool docks on 23rd of March 1853. Accompanied by his wife Sarah and their recently born baby Elizabeth, they were bound for Australia and a new life – a life that would take them via Melbourne to the newly discovered gold fields of Victoria. But first they had to survive the journey, which, as we will see, they nearly didn’t.

The Genghis Kahn

William was the second child of William Grisdale, originally of Matterdale, and his wife Elizabeth Charter. William senior had become a “Dancing Master” in Penrith and William junior was born and christened there in 1817 – he himself became a “drainer”. William senior was the brother of the Wilfred Grisdale who had emigrated to Canada in 1816/7 and about whom I wrote in the last article. The older brother of William the Australian emigrant was another Wilfred Grisdale, he is my own 2nd great grandfather.

The family were assisted emigrants; the Colony of Victoria paid their fares, perhaps sponsored by early Melbourne settlers who were short of labour.

What had prompted William and his wife to make this hazardous journey we don’t know. All around England posters were appearing in villages and towns offering the prospect of a new life down-under. Newspapers had also recently started to print stories of gold diggers who had got rich quick, such as this one which appeared in the Liverpool Echo:

Men that were never worth five pounds in their lives are now possessed of fortunes, and the yoke is burdensome, and they scatter their money like chaff. The whole country for hundreds of miles is one immense goldfield.

Whatever the Grisdales’ reasons there was quite a procedure to be gone through. The Victoria Colonial Secretary’s Office worked in conjunction with the British Emigration Agent in London, “assisted by locally appointed Immigration Agents”.

These agents had to ascertain that the applicants were “of sober habit, industrious and of good moral character, and have certificates to this effect, signed by two respectable persons (but not by publicans or dealers in wines and spirits)”.

They had to give the agents their dates and places of birth, literacy, their trade if they had one, their present employment and any debts they may have.  Also they needed to produce a doctor’s report confirming that “they were free from infectious or contagious disease, had either had or were vaccinated against smallpox”.  Adult males were also required to be physically capable of the labour of their trade.

 Once the emigration Commission received and accepted the application, with its various forms and affidavits, the next thing was to wait for an embarkation order.  Applicants were advised not to give up their employment until they received this order, as it may be some time before passage space became available.  When this order was received, it was accompanied by a list of things they were required to supply for the journey, clothes for both hot and cold climates, towels sheets, etc.

Obviously William had been able to supply all this because on 15th March 1853 William and his small family boarded the Genghis Kahn with all the other passengers.

It was to be over a week before the ship sailed. On 22nd March the livestock for the voyage was brought on board: “ducks, fowls and sheep”, and the next day, the 23rd, the ship cast off and was towed into the Mersey by a steam powered tug.

All these details of the voyage, and the ones that will follow, are the result of one passenger named Joseph Tarry who kept a very detailed diary; his observations were subsequently published: A voyage to Australia in 1853 : the diary of Joseph Tarry. I don’t yet have an original copy of this book and thus I have relied heavily on, and am indebted to, a précis written by a family historian researching another Genghis Khan passenger called William Lee. I think it worth quoting this précis at some length:

The moderate easterly soon died down, leaving the vessel briefly becalmed in the Irish Sea, with a memorable view of the Welsh mountains.

 The first few days at sea were horrific, storms and gales tossed the ship about, water poured down the main hatchway into the steerage, and crockery and tin ware, clothing and food, were scattered in confusion all over the passengers’ deck.  This would have been a terrifying experience for William and Elizabeth, as they would never have been to sea before in their lives.  The damp conditions added to the emigrants’ discomfort, for most were miserably sea sick.  “If we did not sleep in boxes”, wrote emigrant Joseph Tarry, “we should be tossed out of bed…”

 As the weather and their health improved, passengers adjusted to shipboard life.  The men made out a roster so that two were awake at all time during the night to assist any sick passengers and prevent irregularities. Soon passengers and crew were reporting thefts to the Master, who announced a thorough search of all luggage on arrival at Melbourne, the thefts stopped immediately.

 The early April days were pleasantly warm as they approached the equator.  Most passengers had written letters, in case they met a homeward bound vessel, but none were sighted.  Entering the South Atlantic so as to follow the Great Circle Route, the ship once again ran into bad weather.  About 30 feet of her top mizzen mast being lost in a storm on April 7th. Soon icy gales and mountainous seas caused the loss of 60 feet of her main mast and damaged her foretop mast.  Even experienced seamen were afraid to go aloft and eventually the Master himself began to climb the rigging, calling on his crew for “the best men among you” to follow him.  Much later, in better conditions, the Master told the passengers that in twenty years at sea he had never experienced such a storm.  The deck was strewn with smashed and splintered timber, torn canvas and broken ropes.

 Passengers were confined below as heavy seas washed over the upper decks, frequently splashing down the main hatch in spite of its canvas cover.  They were cold, often hungry and frequently ill.  The cooks could not keep water in their boilers because of the tossing of the ship.

 The cooks’ fires were constantly being doused with sea water.  When hot food could be prepared, the English emigrants complained that puddings cooked in sea water were unpalatable.  The Scots and Irish were sometimes able to bake oatcakes from their ration of oatmeal, on a griddle provided for their use.  

 The t’weendecks was overcrowded.  The passengers became tired of each other, and even such minor and familiar nuisances as lice contributed to make conditions intolerable

 There was a great deal of illness at sea. Many of the small Scottish children were suffering from malnutrition before the voyage began, and had little resistance to the measles, scarletina, diarrhoea and typhus which swept through the steerage compartments, taking 30 lives

 On May 23rd , a large piece of floating ice struck the ship.  Visibility was poor, and when Prince Edward Island was passed it was completely hidden in thick fog.  Antarctic gales increased, breaking a yard arm.  Waves struck the ship with the thunder of cannon balls.  An officer described the “Genghis Khan” as being “almost a wreck”.  The Chief Mate, held in esteem by all the passengers for his seamanship and courage, was suddenly demoted.  After too much alcohol he had become insane, threatening to sink the ship.

 The Great Circle Route was terrifying not only for the rough weather, darkness, and prospect of meeting icebergs and uncharted islands, but also for its intense loneliness.  No other ships were seen on this route, no friendly greetings, no visits of crews from passing ships.

 As the “Genghis Khan” neared Port Phillip, Joseph Tarry wrote of the growing excitement amongst the emigrants “and no wonder after being shut up in this floating prison for a quarter of a year without      having seen a speck of God’s fair earth or a green leaf and for many weeks not even a ship.”

 On the evening of June 24th the cry of “Land Ho!” brought everyone on deck.  Cape Otway was clearly visible to the north, bathed in moonlight.  Next day the  “Genghis Khan” with the aid of a pilot entered the Heads, anchoring at the Quarantine Station on Ticonderoga Bay, where two families suffering from scarletina were taken on board the hospital ship “Lysander”.

Ticonderoga Quarantine Station used when the Grisdales passed through

The Portsea Quarantine Station (“Ticonderoga”) on the Mornington Peninsular had been established the previous year as a response to the arrival of the “fever ship”, the Ticonderoga. The Health Officer based there was Superintendent of the Sanitary Station. He was charged with boarding every inward bound ship to ascertain the state of health of its passengers and crew and where necessary to place the ship in quarantine.

 Fresh beef was brought aboard, and appetites revived amazingly.  Their strength renewed six seamen deserted during the first night, bound for the goldfields.  A day of absolute calm at the Heads had been followed by a storm so rough that it was impossible to sail, and the “Genghis Khan” finally reached Melbourne a week later, on a beautiful clear winter day.  In spite of the storms and epidemics 256 of the passengers could count themselves fortunate that they had lived to arrive in the colony.

Melbourne in 1854

Passengers were then transferred to land in small boats and then either paid for transport up the River Yarra to the small town of Melbourne or they had to walk.

The Melbourne that confronted the Grisdales was a rough old place. In the same year they arrived William J. Wills wrote home to his father:

I do not like Melbourne in its present state. You are not safe out after sundown and in a short time you will not be safe during the day. There were some men taken out of the river drowned, suspected to have been murdered, and several attempts at robbery, while we were there.

It was in this Melbourne that immigrants such as the Grisdales completed the formalities of their passage in the Immigration Depot on Collin’s Street and here they usually found their first work.

William and his family had survived all the perils of the journey to Australia but their adventure was only just beginning.

William and Sarah Grisdale’s grave in Mansfield cemetery

Whether William first worked in Melbourne or moved straightaway to the booming gold digs in and around the Upper Goulburn River is unclear. But by 1857 at the very latest he and Sarah were living and having more children in the gold fields, first in Mansfield and then in Jamieson, both entrepôts servicing the exploding gold rush settlements. In total William and Sarah had seven more children in Australia and many of these were to work in some of the many “diggings” in the area, including Wood Point, Ten Mile and Gaffney’s Creek. They weren’t only miners, but farmers, lumbermen and labourers as well. Near Wood Point there is even a “Grisdale Creek” – not a coincidence I’m sure!

But that story is for another time.

William Grisdale died in Mansfield in 1886 and is buried in the cemetery there with his wife Sarah. They must have done well because such a grave stone would not have come cheap.