Wild Colonial Greeks [1 ed.] 9781922669117, 9781922454133

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ARCADIA

My thanks to the National Library of Australia and its digital newspaper archive Trove from which much of the material for this book is drawn.

© Peter Prineas 2020 First published 2020 by Arcadia the general books imprint of Australian Scholarly Publishing Ltd 7 Lt Lothian St Nth, North Melbourne, Vic 3051 Tel: 61 3 9329 6963 / [email protected] / www.scholarly.info ISBN 978-1-922454-13-3 All Rights Reserved Cover illustration: ‘Imagining the Hellas Reef in September 1859’ by Zoe MacPhail. When Greek gold miners discovered the Hellas Reef in Victoria they flew the Greek flag over their claim in celebration. After: ‘Discovery of a quartz reef ’ by Nicholas Chevalier, The Australian News for Home Readers (Victoria), June 25, 1864 Cover design: Wayne Saunders

Contents Introduction

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1: A Colonial View of the Greeks 2: Song and Story

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3: George the Greek 4: Dagoes

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5: Nicholas Millar 6: Timoleon Vlasto

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7: Eugenios Genatas

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8: Andreas Lagogiannis

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9: Spiridion Candiottis

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10: In Search of the First Greek

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Appendix: A note on the photograph ‘Native Mounted Police at Rockhampton in the 1860s’ Sources Index

257 313

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Introduction There were Greeks in Australia in our wild colonial days. Many of them were on the goldfields, panning the watercourses or tunnelling into the earth in search of the precious metal. Some risked their lives on the frontiers of settlement. Among the latter were the sailor Nicholas Millar and the bêche-de-mer fisherman Peter Flerigo who, at different times and in different places, were clubbed or speared to death by Aborigines. Others were more fortunate, like George Demetrius of Port Douglas, who spent his days sailing the five-ton yacht Maid of Athens among ‘the coral reefs, and the innumerable islands of the Australian archipelago’. Thanks to historians of Greeks in Australia, the names of some of these colonial-era Greeks are known to us: like the goldfields doctor Spiridion Candiottis of Corfu, and the Melbourne port hotelier Andreas Lagogiannis of Patras. But they were little more than names. We did not really know them. Few would be aware of Dr Candiottis’s war with Charles Buzacott, the newspaper editor who tried to drive the doctor out of Clermont, if not out of Queensland. Fewer still would know of Candiottis’s much-loved daughter Eugenie and the circumstances in which this ‘interesting and vivacious little girl’, in Buzacott’s words, ‘terminated her brief career’. Andreas Lagogiannis’s torments at the hands of the police, the Sandridge borough council and the justices of the local court have also gone unnoticed. He seems not to have understood the culture of the place to which he had come but, even though beaten, he was not broken. Also overlooked is Eugenios Genatas’s attempt to bring a Queensland

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squatter to justice for abducting Aboriginal women, and for shooting an Aboriginal man and stabbing another with a dagger. Genatas’s brief career in the Queensland Native Mounted Police may not deserve praise but, in the absence of any specific charge of wrong-doing, it is surprising that he has been counted among the most ‘brutal’ and ‘violent’ officers of that terrible corps. An aim of this book is to realise these and other ‘wild colonial Greeks’ so that they can take their proper place, or niche at least, in Australian history. Another aim is to show how colonial Australia viewed the Greeks. It does this by presenting what is written about them in colonial newspapers. It might be imagined that not much of interest would be found. However, many months of research, aided by the vast online digital newspaper archive in the National Library’s Trove database, has uncovered a considerable amount of material, much of it not previously published to a contemporary audience. Drawing on this, the book presents a colonial view of the Greeks that changes dramatically over the course of the 19th century, and is broken down into the three periods described in the chapters: ‘Song and Story’ (1803–49), ‘George the Greek’ (1850–84) and ‘Dagoes’ (1885–1900). A third aim grew out of the research done and is to present evidence that a Greek was living in New South Wales when the seven pirate-convicts (considered to be Australia’s first Greeks) arrived in 1829. The chapter ‘In Search of the First Greek’ examines this evidence and concludes that it moves the date of the first Greek arrival back to 1823 and perhaps earlier.

CHAPTER 1

A Colonial View of the Greeks Newspapers had no rival in the dissemination of popular knowledge and opinion during Australia’s colonial era and, to the extent that there was a colonial view of the Greeks, it was expressed in newspapers. A study of press reports suggests that perceptions of Greece and the Greeks changed over the course of the 19th century to form three distinct periods. The early period was mostly ‘Song and Story’, a time when Greeks were represented in the colonies by no more than a handful of convicts and free immigrants and some transient sailors – too few to make an impression. What was known of Greece and its people in this early period came from books and newspapers from the home country. These sources reflected the enthusiasm of Britain’s educated classes for the ancient Greeks and for classical art, literature and learning. There was also the knowledge imparted by a local elite educated in the classics, and the impressions of travellers, of sailors in Greek waters, and of civil servants and soldiers who had served in the British protectorate of the Ionian Islands. When the Greeks emerged from the shadows of the Ottoman Empire in 1821 to claim their freedom and independence, a popular movement in Britain and the Continent took up their cause. It was a continuation of ‘Song and Story’, with Philhellenes and Romantics harnessing the prestige of the ancient Greeks in aid of the moderns, supported now by church

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groups moved by the plight of fellow Christians. Reports in the colonial press show that popular sympathy was on the side of the Greeks, as it was in the home country, but the imperial government clung to neutrality until 1826, believing that British interests were not served by revolutions but by securing the order of Europe, maintaining the Ottoman Empire as a barrier to Russia’s southward advance, protecting trade, and holding on to the Ionian Islands. A middle period began in the late 1840s, after changes in Britain’s trade laws made it easier for Greeks and other foreign sailors to sign on as crew with British merchant ships and reach Australian ports. This was followed by news of remarkable gold discoveries that tempted Greeks to make the long voyage to Melbourne and Sydney. They went as sojourners, but some would settle in the new country, or die there. Australians came to know the Greeks in this period – at least the men, as hardly any women came with them. They met them aboard ships, at the ports and on the goldfields; their activities were discussed in public houses and those of much interest were reported in newspapers. This could be termed the ‘George the Greek’ period, given the currency of this designation in the colonial press. Australians noticed that ‘George’ fell short of the classical ideal, subjected him at times to the usual prejudice against foreigners, and frowned on some of his habits but, in general, he emerges as a benign figure. This was so in spite of strained official relations with Greece at the time. In 1849, a local uprising on the Ionian island of Kefalonia brought a harsh response from the Lord High Commissioner. There followed an episode of gunboat diplomacy in 1850 when the Royal Navy blockaded Greek ports in support of the claims of Don Pacifico, a British subject resident in Athens. Then came the Crimean War in 1853, when Britain joined with France to enforce Greece’s strict neutrality. However, distance diminished the impact of these events and they were not much felt in the Australian colonies. A late period began in the mid-1880s when Greek communities were forming in the colonial capitals and preparing the ground for Greek 2

institutions. This was a time when formal ties with the Greek state were made through the appointment of local consuls, and the Orthodox Church sent priests to serve in soon to be erected churches. Economic malaise in Greece in the early 1890s started a flood of emigrants to America, Egypt and other places. A modest stream reached Australia where the new arrivals made a living as labourers, miners, fishermen, shopkeepers and owners of oyster saloons, occupations open to men with little education or capital and from which they were not excluded by xenophobic trade unions. Colonial society was now pondering federation and agonising over race and immigration. Entry by Asians and Islanders was being restricted in the interests of ‘White Australia’, and some looked askance at Greeks and other southern European immigrants, an attitude expressed in the term ‘Dago’ which came into general use at this time.

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CHAPTER 2

Song and Story Australia’s first newspaper, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, appeared in March 1803. It was a product of the government printing office and carried mainly official notices, although it also provided some general news and advertisements. The Sydney Gazette was the only newspaper in the Colony until William Wentworth launched The Australian in 1824. The fascination of the times with ancient Greece is evident in a report extracted from the English press in March 1804 by The Sydney Gazette’s editor, George Howe, a man acquainted with the classics. It told how the British ship Mentor, while on its way from Athens to Malta, sank in the harbour at the island of Cerigo (Kythera). The drowned ship was ‘laden with sculptured marble of unrivalled beauty and workmanship from the Temple of Minerva at Athens, and other celebrated Monuments of Grecian antiquity belonging to Lord Elgin, our Ambassador at Constantinople’. Elgin’s secretary, Hamilton, remained for weeks at Kythera trying to recover the ancient friezes and sculptures stripped from the Parthenon until, eventually, ‘he sent for divers from the Island of Samos, who happily succeeded in the attempt’. The article concluded, ‘This intelligence will, no doubt, be highly gratifying to the Lovers of Literature and the Fine Arts’. Another nod to the ancients was given in the reporting of some local ‘Native Amusements’. This piece, almost certainly written by Howe, appeared in January 1805 and described an Aboriginal payback ritual involving none other than Bennelong, the one-time friend of Governor

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Phillip, and guest at the court of King George III in London. On this occasion, Bennelong, having committed some offence against tribal law, was obliged to ‘withstand the torrent of revenge’, consisting of flights of spears thrown at him three at a time. The report, heavy with classical allusion, declared, ‘Here Diomede, on either side appear, to hurl the wafted vengeance to and fro’ without brazen helmet or cuirass, or aught beside to turn the thirsty point’. Bennelong is said to have faced a hundred spears, ‘which he avoided with agility’. At one point, an Aboriginal man, ‘like a faithless Paris, seized an unhappy Helen … until her Menelaus, incensed at the barbarity of the ruffian, repaired to the spot’. There followed a further contest when another man, ‘like an Ajax stalking forth, brought Bennelong to combat: and he, gifted with the matchless subtlety of Ulysses, parried a while with eloquence untaught, but his antagonist, intent upon hostility, sent forth a whistling spear which, gliding by his arm, might seem to share its master’s thirst of gore’. The mayhem was brought to an end at last when, ‘with sore fatigue the ardour of the warriors gave way to the persuasion of the ancient Nestor, who in the person of Terribolong, harangued the broken ranks, and reason chased Minerva from the field’. The influence of the ancient Greeks was also evident in the phrase, ‘When Greek meets Greek then comes the tug of war’ – often shortened to ‘When Greek meets Greek’ – a much used aphorism in 19th century Australia, at least among newspapermen. It appears in the pages of the colonial press at least 1,300 times, the first mention probably being in a letter to the editor of The Sydney Gazette on 24 April 1824 from a Mr Timothy Crabtree, who employed it with some Latin and other learned musings to display his erudition. The Telegraph in Brisbane, in examining the origins of this ‘well worn phrase’ after a century of use, noted that it came from a play, The Rival Queens, or the death of Alexander the Great, written by English dramatist Nathaniel Lee in the late 17th century. According to The Telegraph’s unattributed article, the saying was both misquoted and misconstrued: Lee actually wrote, ‘When Greeks joyn’d Greeks, then was the tug of War’, to show ‘that so united were the Greeks in defence of their 5

country that, when they all stood shoulder to shoulder, nothing but death could defeat them’. In the Antipodes, however, it was given the opposite meaning and presented as a truism about the propensity of Greeks – the ancient ones at least – to fight amongst themselves. At the beginning of 1821, as the Greeks were about to make their bid for independence, an article in The Sydney Gazette dismissed the Ottoman Empire as ‘a fabric of imbecility’ that in time ‘must crumble into ruins’. However, the prospect of the Greeks forming an alliance with Ali, the notorious Pasha of Ioannina, met with disapproval: ‘How deep must be the degradation of Greece when her sons can stoop to purchase a release from the oppression of the Porte [the Ottoman government], by courting the tyranny of Ali!’ This strong reaction no doubt reflected the unease felt by British officials in the Ionian Islands at Ali Pasha’s power on the neighbouring mainland. George Howe died in May 1821 unaware of the revolution in Greece, which was then seven weeks old. His son, Robert Howe, succeeded him as editor of The Sydney Gazette. It was another six months before his newspaper said anything about the Greek uprising, the first report mentioning the Sultan’s reprisals in Constantinople: ‘Prince Constantine Morusi, recently appointed Interpreter to the Porte, has been beheaded; … the venerable Greek Patriarch was arrested by order of the Grand Seignior, as he was proceeding to the cathedral to perform divine service, and at five o’clock in the evening was executed on the gallows before the door of the Greek Church’. The Sydney Gazette also reported Byron’s passage, in his chartered vessel Hercules, from Genoa to the Ionian island of Kefalonia, where he would make his plans for helping the Greeks in the war. The famed poet and wealthy aristocrat had £20,000 of his own money to spend on the cause and his ship carried a contingent of half-pay (in reserve) British army officers and ‘warlike accoutrements equal to the equipment of fifteen hundred men’. Byron’s plans later took him to Missolonghi, a stronghold of the revolutionaries on the western coast of the Greek mainland. There he 6

caught a fever and died on 19 April 1824, his death in the Greek struggle for independence causing a sensation in Europe. There was the usual long delay before the news reached Australia. Byron’s love-life had made him a controversial figure and, unaware that the great bard had by then been in his grave for a month, The Sydney Gazette in May 1824 published a poem by ‘Lorenzo’ that berated him for fleeing scandals in England: Yes! fly, ignoble Peer! Britannia’s shore, Whose lovely daughters farthest realms adore; Yes! fly, degraded Bard! thy native air, Where freedom blooms—the birth-right of the fair; Repass the Hellespont’s ‘too lenient’ waves, To lands where woman is the slave of slaves! There let bought beauties thy harem adorn, And be at once their tyrant and their scorn!!! The Australian, a new journal launched by Robert Wardell and William Wentworth, took advantage of the Gazette’s blunder. In an early issue there appeared a poem penned by Wentworth himself, signing himself ‘S’, and setting things right: WHERE art thou, man of might, thou grand in soul; Gone! like the vesper pageantry of heaven, Leaving a twilight gloom; sadly to roll Over the heart bereft; for thou wast given To quicken our dull spirits, and to blaze A living light o’er the dim world beneath. Greece! Thou hast lost thy champion; Reports on the struggle in Greece appeared in the colonial press throughout the 1820s, most of them sympathetic to the Greek cause, and in April 1825 The Sydney Gazette went further and declared its position: 7

The Greeks are still nobly contesting for their emancipation from horrid thralldom. We are much surprised, and in fact greatly disappointed, that Britain does not more effectually assist the Greeks against the tyrants that only pant for their perpetual captivity, if not their extirpation. By one of the London papers, it would appear that the sum subscribed in this cause of liberty and humanity, exceeds not £9,000! Were there a few Byrons left, the case would be otherwise. The views of a leading member of the Greek Committee in London, Colonel Leicester Stanhope, were aired in the Hobart Town Gazette in 1825: ‘The peasantry of Greece possess a large share of rustic virtue’, he declared. They were ‘within the sphere of Turkey’s oppression, but without the sphere of her corruption’. The people of the towns he considered inferior, as they had taken up Turkish vices. Nevertheless, the Greeks were as ‘fitted to be free as any nation on earth’. He drew the line at the oligarchs. They were ‘unworthy of the blessing of liberty’, being ‘luxurious, corrupted, avaricious, and tyrannical’. By then it was clear that the Greeks would not win the war unless the European powers came to their assistance. The point was made in a letter from an unnamed philhellene published in the Hobart Town Gazette: ‘This once brilliant people – this land of song and story is now overrun and laid waste; but the Greeks are not yet conquered! If I may judge from what I have seen, they have no chance of success unless, the Legitimates, the Holy Alliance (France leading), will cease to aid the Turks as they do sub rosa. Left to themselves, the Greeks are more than a match for the Turks; but without speedy aid they must sink before their secret assailants’. A local poet, Edward O’Shaughnessy, beat the drum for Greece in verses published in The Sydney Gazette in April 1827:

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On to battle! Grecians on! Think of all your sires have done! Dream, oh dream of Marathon And glorious Thermopylæ! Think of Leuctra’s gory plain; Think of Persia’s myriads slain; Think, and act those scenes again, In wild war’s dreadful mimicry. At last, the slowly turning wheels of diplomacy brought the great powers, Britain, France and Russia, perhaps as much by accident as intention, to the naval battle at Navarino on 20 October 1827, an event celebrated in another poem by O’Shaughnessy in The Sydney Gazette in March 1828: Shout! for the battle is won, That beautiful land shall be free! Would you know of the deeds they have done, Of their march on the far distant sea? Greece in her triumphs shall tell, While her sons shall sweep over the main, How bravely, how nobly, how well, They have struggled her freedom to gain.1 Not every opinion expressed in the colonial press at this time sided with the Greeks. In June 1828, a Hobart newspaper published an article bemoaning the attacks by Greek pirates on merchant shipping: ‘A solitary instance of private piracy we could excuse, but where we see a Government enter into the league, we are struck with astonishment at the idea of that 1 Conservative opinion in Britain was less enthusiastic. The Duke of Wellington described the Allies’ destruction of the Ottoman–Egyptian fleet at Navarino as ‘an untoward event’.

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Government being said to be a Republic! Such, however, is Greece – she has thrown off the Turkish yoke – and calls herself republican; but still various merchant ships, and even British vessels, have been taken and confiscated under the pretence of having warlike stores, &c. on board.’ In fact, something was being done about the Greek pirates. A number of them had been captured by the British navy and imprisoned at Malta. Samuel Wilson, a prison chaplain, wrote in a memoir, ‘I deny not that the waters of Greece, during her most distressing war of independence, did at times swarm with pirates. I have occasionally preached to from sixty to eighty at a time, imprisoned in Fort Emanuele at Malta. To five or six, who were exiled to Van Diemen’s Land, I also gave a letter of introduction to an English minister of that penal settlement; and it is possible that they may now have children in that distant land, who with their descendants may long remember, with patriotic ardour, that their fathers were natives of the classic land.’ Perhaps the men to whom the Reverend Wilson gave a letter of introduction were among the seven Greek convicts who came ashore in Sydney from the Norfolk on 7 September 1829. They were the captain and crew of the schooner Herakles out of Hydra. In July 1827 they had boarded and plundered the British brig Alceste on its way to Alexandria. Not long after, they were captured by a British man-of-war and taken to Malta for trial. Some were condemned to hang, the rest to long terms of imprisonment, but their sentences were later commuted to transportation on account of their youth – none of them being more than 22 years old – and because their crimes did not extend to violence. Their status as Greeks at war with the Turks may also have played a part. They had claimed the right as belligerents to stop and board the Alceste, which although a neutral ship, was sailing to an enemy port. The arrival of ‘Greeks under sentence of transportation to the Colony for their natural lives’ was unusual enough to be noted in the Sydney press. Considered to be the first Greeks to arrive in Australia,2 they were the 2 In Chapter 10, evidence is given for the presence in New South Wales of a Greek named George Manual or Manuel, years before the arrival of the seven pirate-convicts.

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Athenian Andonis Manolis, who had captained the Herakles, and six men from the island of Hydra: Ghikas Bulgaris, Georgios Laritsos, Damianos Ninis, Nikolaos Papandreou, Konstantinos Stroumboulis and Georgios Vasilakis. They were soon assigned as servants, Manolis and Papandreou to William Macarthur at Camden; Bulgaris to the Colonial Secretary Alexander MacLeay; Laritsos to Major Druitt; Ninis to the Sydney Dock Yard; Stroumboulis to Mr F.A. Hely, who would later be appointed Principal Superintendent of Convicts; and Vasilakis to Mr Macalister of Argyle. Some of them – probably Manolis, Vasilakis and Papandreou – were later to be found working on the estate of John Macarthur at Parramatta, where in 1831 the Colonial Surveyor-General, Major Thomas Mitchell, during a walk through the grounds accompanied by his host, was shown ‘the first olive tree ever planted in Australia’, and ‘observed convict Greeks (pirates) — acti fatis [driven by fate] — at work in that garden of the Antipodes, training the vines to trellises, made after the fashion of those in the Peloponnesus’. Little notice was taken of the Greeks thereafter, except for Ninis, who in March 1831 tried to escape from Sydney by stowing away aboard the brig Wellington. He was confined at Hyde Park Barracks where he was forced to perform ‘21 days exercise on the mill’. Afterwards, he no doubt enjoyed seeing his reputation magnified in the Sydney press, which portrayed him as the pirate captain of a ship named after himself, mounting 17 guns, and commanding a large crew who were captured only after a ‘desperate engagement by one of His Majesty’s vessels’. After achieving independence, the new Greek government pressed for the return of its nationals in far away Australia and, eventually, it was agreed to repatriate the seven Greeks. Their absolute pardons were notified in the Sydney press in December 1836, and in March 1837 five of them sailed from Sydney. The two who remained were Andonis Manolis and Ghikas Bulgaris. Manolis continued in the employ of the Macarthurs for some years as a tenant farmer and shearer, and he later married Elizabeth Gorey and spent the rest of his days at Picton. Bulgaris, known now as ‘Jigger Bulgary’, married Mary Lyons and lived out his life on the tablelands of the Monaro. 11

In Europe, the Greek Revolution and the emergence of a Greek state produced different opinions on the merits of the modern Greeks. Many compared them unfavourably with their illustrious forebears and doubted whether they could claim any connection with the ancients at all. The subject was sometimes ventilated in colonial Australia, one instance being an article in the Hobart Town Courier in 1831 headed, ‘Character of the Greeks’. It expressed the decidedly negative view of an English traveller: Their character is as abandoned as their country is desolate. The vaunted valour of their forefathers has passed away and ere long the very name of ‘Greek’ will be a bye word for all that is base and worthless. However, an item in Launceston’s Advertiser newspaper, published in the same period, suggested the ways of the ancients lived on: The Greek Sailors still preserve the custom mentioned by Homer, of hauling their vessels on shore with the prows resting on the beach; having done this, they place the mast lengthways across the prow and the poop, and spread the sail over it, so as to form a tent: beneath these tents they sing their songs, drinking wine freely, and accompanying their voices with a lyre or three-stringed viol. Among the thousands of ships that dropped anchor on Australian shores up to the time the pirate convicts arrived – 41 years after the First Fleet – it seems unlikely that not one brought a Greek sailor. There were laws limiting the enlistment of foreign seamen on British merchant ships, but they did not amount to a prohibition and, in any case, were not always enforced. Greeks did serve as crew on British ships and a poem published in the London Magazine in 1809 was apparently inspired by events involving one such seaman, who ‘Plung’d from the vessel’s giddy height’ into the sea. 12

Twenty years later, in 1829, a newspaper editor in Launceston thought it might interest his readers: He came from the land of the mighty dead, His grave is the dark-blue deep; Primaeval rocks are his rugged bed, — But in Greece shall his funeral tears be shed, And for him shall her daughters weep! The probability of finding a Greek seaman on a British ship improved after 1815, when the Congress of Vienna gave the Ionian Islands to Britain to administer as a protectorate. The inhabitants of these Greek islands were not made British subjects, but they were given the opportunity to engage with the British, to learn their language and their ways, and to find employment on British merchant vessels calling at Ionian ports. In the late 1840s, Melbourne had a population of about 20,000, of whom only a handful would have been Greeks, the only one identified with any certainty being Spiro Kyriakatis – known as Williams – a native of Zakynthos and at that time a mere youth in his teens. It is surprising, therefore, to read reports in the Melbourne Argus newspaper during this period making reference to ‘the Greeks’, and reporting their activities with great interest. A candidate in the municipal elections in 1846 thought them to be such a force in local politics that he told his audience they did not have ‘spirit enough’ to stop the Greeks from ‘riding roughshod’ over them. A further article described these Greeks as ‘the greasy mob who assemble about the Greek Co.’s stables in Little Collins Street’. It was also reported that, ‘when the great man of the Greeks’ failed in his bid for election to the La Trobe Ward, ‘the Greeks signalised their defeat by a resort to brute outrage’. Later, these events were reported as ‘the Greek riots’, and the punishments meted out were duly noted, one ‘never failing participator in the Greek riots’ being fined £5 and ordered to find sureties for his good behaviour, while three more of the rioters spent the night in the watch house. This 13

breathtaking behaviour by Melbourne’s Greeks continued into 1847 and was accompanied by more confronting newspaper headings such as ‘Greek Outrage’, ‘Greek Rioting’ and ‘The Greek Curse’, the last complaining of ‘Greek importations’, that is, immigrants. Who were these hordes of Melbourne Greeks? Did a fleet from Piraeus sail unnoticed into Port Phillip Bay in the 1840s? The truth is they were not Greeks at all, as becomes obvious from newspaper references to ‘a Tipperary Greek’, and to members of the Greek faction bearing names such as O’Riley, O’Connell and Horrigan. This labelling of Catholic Irishmen as ‘Greeks’ appears to have been the work of William Kerr, the editor of the Melbourne Argus and local grand master of the Orangemen, a man known for his sarcasm and for ‘violent enthusiasms’ that included fanning the flames of sectarian conflict. It can be assumed that in branding Irishmen as Greeks, Kerr did not intend to pay either a compliment. In his eyes the ‘Greek members of the Town Council’ were ‘those who owe their seats to the brute force of the rabble’. If this was an allusion to the ancient Greeks, the source is not obvious, although it might be found in the rise of the early Greek tyrants who took power from the aristocrats by winning the support of the demos, or common people. But it may have been something else entirely – a reference to the modern Greeks ruled by Englishmen in the Ionian Islands, whom they sometimes disparaged as ‘Mediterranean Irish’. Historian Thomas Gallant has noted that the Ionian Greeks and the Irish were seen at this time to have some similarities. They differed from other subject peoples of the British Empire in being European; they were also Christian, but of decidedly different traditions to the Church of England; they were thought to share certain attributes, some of them good, but most bad enough to make them ‘unfit’ to govern themselves and justifying their continued rule by the British; and they were both viewed as restive peoples – in the case of the Ionians in their desire for enosis or union with Greece, and in the case of the Irish in their insistence on home rule. After an uprising in 1849 on the Ionian island of Kefalonia, The Sydney 14

Morning Herald carried a long editorial from The Times in London drawing parallels in Ionian and Irish affairs: Last year, when, all Europe, from the Austrian Empire to the kingdom of Ireland were mad, Cephalonia had its revolt, which, like its Irish contemporary, found its Ballingarry. ‘Young Greece’, like, ‘Young Ireland’ was put down by a sergeant and his guard. The leaders of the plot … escaped to the shores of ‘Old Greece’, where they have been hospitably received; and where doubtless, at this present moment, they are planning a Panhellenic confederacy, and penning ferocious invectives against ‘the cursed British empire’. In fact, few if any of the disturbers of the peace in Kefalonia escaped to Greece; 21 of them were hanged with a minimal regard for justice, dozens were imprisoned, and scores – hundreds according to some accounts – were brutally whipped. In the same editorial there appeared a splenetic description of the Ionians, no doubt reflecting the sentiments of their British rulers in the palace at Corfu: We took under our aegis a people who combined Italian crime with Greek cunning, who were strangers to private honesty or public virtue, who were remarkable for strong passions, and superstition, ignorance, and laziness, who had been bandied about from Italian to Turk, and Turk to Russian, but who, in every fortune and under every Government, preserved the taint of corruption which the policy of Venice had instilled, and the despotism of the Porte encouraged. Attitudes to the Ionians may have coloured impressions of the Greek Kingdom. The British estimation of Greece under the rule of King Otho, the former Prince of Bavaria, was never good, and towards the middle of 15

the 19th century it was nearing a low point. This is reflected in a piece in August 1846 in The Port Phillip Patriot and Morning Advertiser, a newspaper the Orangeman William Kerr once edited: I swear solemnly that I would rather have two hundred a year in Fleet-street, than be King of the Greeks, with Basileus written before my name round their beggarly coin; with the bother of perpetual revolutions, in my huge plaster of paris palace, with no amusement but a drive in the afternoon over a wretched arid country, where roads are not made … The shabbiness of this place actually beats Ireland, and that is a strong word. Relations with Greece deteriorated when a claim on the Greek government by a private citizen was raised to the level of an international incident. In Athens it was the custom on Easter Sunday to hang or burn an effigy of Judas, but when Lord Rothschild visited the city in 1847 the practice was prohibited. Athenians believed that a prominent Jewish resident, Don Pacifico, was responsible for the ban, and an anti-Semitic mob attacked and vandalised his house. The resulting claim on the Greek government for compensation was disputed until 1850, when the Palmerston government, angered by King Otho’s drift towards Russia, used Don Pacifico’s status as a British subject – he had been born in Gibraltar – as an excuse to punish Greece. Palmerston ordered the Royal Navy to seize Greek naval vessels and blockade Greek ports, actions which drew a rebuke from the House of Lords and a good deal of criticism from the British press, all of which was duly noted in colonial newspapers. When in 1854 Greece strayed from the path of strict neutrality in the Crimean War, and Britain and France sent an occupation force to Athens, the public reaction was different. The Argus in Melbourne published a London Times editorial asserting that as Greece’s ‘protecting powers’, they were within their rights to stop King Otho’s government from pursuing a 16

‘Russian conspiracy’. These events may have excited emotions, but they had little practical effect on Greeks arriving or residing in the Australian colonies, their numbers being too few to attract much notice.

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CHAPTER 3

George the Greek For nearly two centuries, England’s Navigation Acts underpinned a policy of protection for British goods and trade. Among other things, they required shipowners and masters to crew their vessels with a minimum of three-quarters of British seamen. In 1849, in the spirit of liberalism then on the rise in the British Empire and Western Europe, the Navigation Acts were repealed. One of the effects of the change was to alter the ethnic composition of crews on British ships. While early in the 19th century one out of five men in a crew was not British, by late in the century the proportion had doubled to two out of five. Greeks were among the increasing numbers of foreigners crewing British ships, and more of them were reaching Australian ports. In 1851, hard on the heels of Britain’s trade and shipping reforms, came the remarkable gold discoveries in Victoria and New South Wales. Soon, tens of thousands of people were embarking from the world’s ports for the new El Dorado. They arrived in the Australian colonies in numbers exceeding 50,000 a year, more than four times the rate of the previous decade. Colonial immigration procedures reflected the liberal spirit of the times: ship masters reported the numbers and names of alien passengers to customs, and it was accepted that those from friendly countries would be free to land. Only foreigners from an enemy country in time of war, or quarantine cases, would be denied entry, or detained. The great majority of new arrivals went ashore without even the need for a passport. Greeks,

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whether they were subjects of the Kingdom of Greece, Ionians, Ottomans, or of some other nationality, enjoyed the same freedom. Victoria was the first to change this liberal policy when it legislated to control Chinese immigration in 1855. On reaching Melbourne’s Hobson’s Bay or Sydney Harbour in the early 1850s, a ship was likely to be relieved not only of its passengers, but also of many of its crew, who jumped ship and joined in the rush to the goldfields. The loss of crewmen was especially serious at Melbourne where, on 6 January 1852, there were 35 ships in port unable to sail; they had come with 816 seamen among them and were left with only 399, the rest having deserted. The colonial government appealed to London for assistance and was offered – at the expense of the Victorian treasury – four companies of infantry and a naval vessel to help restore order and to lessen the ‘great evil to the commercial interests of that Colony’ from so many desertions. As a rule, seamen signing on as crew on a merchant ship agreed to serve for at least the outward and return voyage. English law had for many years treated a breach of this obligation as more than a private dispute between the parties. A seaman who absented himself from his ship for more than 24 hours could be charged with desertion and punished as a criminal. The masters of vessels usually offered rewards for the return of deserters of between £1 and £5 but they relied for the most part on the colonial authorities to get them back on board. At Sydney, it was the task of the water police to bring deserting sailors to justice. They patrolled the streets and the harbour in search of absconders, and regularly boarded departing ships to muster their crews. Desertion had long been a problem at colonial ports where seamen coming from England could double their wages by leaving their ship for a local vessel, but when the siren song of the goldfields was heard, desertion became rampant. One who may have heard the siren’s call was Alexander Zacchero, a sailor brought before the water police court in Sydney in September 1853. A newspaper reported him to be ‘a Greek, belonging to the crew of the F.C. 19

Clarke’, who ‘made his defence in Italian in a very impassioned manner, and declared that he would not do any work until he received some more money’. Zacchero also claimed that he was entitled to his discharge four weeks after his arrival in Sydney. The newspaper said, ‘On being disabused of this conceit he worked up his features into a very resolute expression, and made a horizontal motion with his forefinger in the neighbourhood of his jugular vein, intimating that if the captain did not grant him his discharge, he would effect it himself in a very unjustifiable manner’. Zacchero was sentenced to four weeks’ imprisonment. A Greek from the Ionian Islands named John Panham was apprehended by the water police at Newcastle and brought before the court in Sydney in March 1855. He was charged with desertion from the Rob Roy, a vessel then lying in Sydney Harbour. Panham pleaded guilty and, as his ship was nearly ready for sea, he was ordered to be sent on board. A few months later, in June 1855, the same court gave another Greek deserter, Andrew Mazzo, a comparatively heavy sentence of 12 weeks imprisonment with hard labour. The prosecutor said Mazzo had caused much trouble with his misstatements, claiming to belong to the British ship Croesus, when in fact he was a deserter from the Washington Irving, which had already left the port. In Adelaide the following year, a similar sentence of three months’ gaol with hard labour was given to a Greek seaman named Nicholas Coster, who had deserted from the British barque Blundell. In Melbourne in May 1856, George Nicholas, another Greek, was charged at the city court with deserting the American clipper Whirlwind. Nicholas denied all knowledge of the ship, and said he had never been on board her. He said he could call witnesses to prove that he had been in Victoria for 12 months. The captain, John N. Giet, insisted that Nicholas had shipped in New York, and that he would call witnesses to prove it. Nicholas was remanded until the following day and, when the case resumed, the sailmaker of the Whirlwind and one of its seamen told the court that Nicholas had arrived at Melbourne on their ship. The Age newspaper reported, ‘The prisoner, who was clearly afraid of being again sent on board, became 20

very violent, and with profuse gesticulation asserted that he would rather kill himself than be sent back’. The Argus added that Nicholas ‘said he would kill himself on the floor of the court if he had a knife rather than rejoin the ship’. The captain of the Whirlwind at this point had second thoughts and said he would prefer to see him punished. Nicholas was sentenced to two months’ imprisonment with hard labour, and was removed from the court ‘protesting his entire ignorance of the ship and the men, and vowing that they were all swearing for money’. In Melbourne in July 1863, Emanuel Exosi, another Greek sailor, was charged with deserting the British ship Istamboul, and ‘was sent on board the hulks’ for six weeks. Overcrowding in the gaols had led the colonial authorities to adopt the English practice of imprisoning criminals in the decaying hulls of old ships moored in rivers and harbours. Under the guard of the water police, hulks were in use at Sydney and Brisbane, and particularly Melbourne, which had no less than four hulks in the 1850s. Brisbane’s hulk in the mid-1860s was moored ‘at Fisherman’s Island, among the mangroves and mosquitoes’; for reasons unknown it was named ‘Proserpine’, although it has been noted that ‘in Greek mythology Proserpine was the wife of Hades, King of the Underworld, and is said to have kept a boarding house in hell’. Ship captains were not the only ones losing their men to the goldfields. The siren’s song emptied shops, factories and farms. Public servants abandoned their posts. Even the colonial police forces were not immune. It was reported in May 1851, ‘The Police at Bathurst have all resigned; seven of the Sydney Police resigned yesterday, and the authorities expect that upwards of 30 will leave to-morrow’. A similar situation was faced by police forces in other colonies, and to fill their depleted ranks, men of doubtful background, including former convicts, were sworn in. In Tasmania in 1855 even a Greek immigrant could be made a policeman, as was the case for ‘Andrew Johnson’ who was reported in a Hobart newspaper to be ‘a constable (and a Greek by nation), belonging to Franklin, in the Huon district’. Johnson found it necessary to mention his Greek nationality when he gave evidence in some legal proceedings. 21

Some habits of the Greeks did not fit well with the dominant culture. In 1859, a Greek seaman named Thomas Niser was brought before the central criminal court in Sydney for stabbing a fellow countryman named Nicholas Stamboul. A constable told the court that when he arrested Niser in Clarence Street, the bleeding victim complained, ‘This man has stabbed me’, to which Niser replied, ‘ ’Tis the fashion of the country.’ This explanation failed to impress the jury, which returned a verdict of unlawful wounding, and the bench sentenced Niser to 12 months’ hard labour on the roads and public works of the Colony. In an earlier incident, on the Pleasant Creek goldfield in western Victoria, a knife was drawn by one of the foreigners ‘supposed to be a Greek named Montegena’ who, in a fight at White’s Saloon, wounded three men and then rushed from the room. Occasional reports of Greeks wielding knives continued up to the end of the century and beyond, one such case involving a Greek wharf labourer named Demetrius Garalas, who was wounded in the neck and ear during a fight with another Greek in Sydney’s Argyle Cut. The resort to the knife by Greeks on the goldfields, and in city streets, reflects historian Thomas Gallant’s description of Greece in the 19th century as an ‘honour culture’ in which knife fighting was ‘as ritualised and rule-bound as the aristocratic duel’. Indeed, he suggests these clashes ‘should be considered a form of lower class dueling’. Gallant says of the Greeks of the Ionian Islands: ‘A man had to rise to the challenge or lose status. Once the knives were drawn, the men followed a known script. They aimed not to kill but to maim, not to slay but to scar. They sought to cut the face of their opponents.’ Gallant’s premise is illustrated in an incident at remote Kiandra in the Snowy Mountains of New South Wales, where thousands of gold miners gathered in 1859 to wash the stream gravels for nuggets. In September, the local newspaper, the Alpine Pioneer, reported that a man had been ‘seriously stabbed in a melee in one of the public houses at the Nine Mile’. The newspaper said the man was ‘a Greek’ who had been seriously wounded by 22

a person unknown, and ‘the wound extended from the top of the nose to the chin’. Another report confirmed ‘a Greek was cut very severely in the face in a drunken quarrel. Both his upper and under lips were completely cut through’. It was also reported that the wounds were sewn up by a doctor and ‘no serious result’ was anticipated. Settling differences by combat was not tolerated by the colonial authorities and a challenge to fight a duel would, if reported, usually be met with an arraignment at the police court, with the offender being ordered to pay a fine and post a surety to keep the peace. However, knife fights followed the insult more or less immediately and had to be dealt with after the fact. There may have been some disposition in the early gold rush days to make allowances for foreigners and their knives. In a case heard at Bathurst in 1857, ‘Nicholas Frank, a Greek’, faced charges for threatening another Greek with a dagger. The men were miners at the Iron Barks goldfield (Wellington) in the central west of New South Wales. An argument at Foran’s public house led to blows, and each man claimed that the other had issued a challenge to fight in the fashion of their country. Frank then got a knife from his tent and used it to threaten the other man. The bench remarked, ‘some respect must be paid to the customs of foreigners, although they could not interfere with the wise operation of our laws’. The jury, without leaving the box, returned a verdict of not guilty. In the opinion of Lord William Lennox, whose views were presented in a Tasmanian newspaper in 1862, the ‘foreign knife’ was despised by Englishmen. It was ‘unworthy of the national character, and associated with practices on some parts of the Continent, from which our countrymen recoil’. He warned, ‘England will rue the day when the fist gives way to the stiletto’. The subject was also raised in the pulpit from time to time, as in a sermon by the Reverend Merriman of the Wesleyan Church in Melbourne, who wondered how ‘Certain Greeks will stab a man without hesitation, yet they will shudder at the thought of touching cheese or butter after Sexagesima Sunday’. Newspaper fiction also reflected on 23

Greeks and their knives, as in a short story published in Sydney after the turn of the century: Well, as I was sayin’, we had only one of these chaps aboard – a short, square-built, greenery-yallery fellow, with hair like a black horse’s tail. Good-lookin’ enough, too; but with an eye I didn’t half like – any more’n I fancied the kind of knife he wore in his red sash; a long, narrow-bladed affair, with a wicked little curve in it – regular Mediterranean touch, in fact. Well, first time the hands were mustered, the skipper drops his eye on this chap at once; and, says the old man, when it came to the fellow’s turn to answer his name, – ‘You’ve signed on as a Frenchman, my lad; but it strikes me the cut of your jib is a good bit more Greek than Froggy. At all events, I won’t have that ungodly-looking tool worn in my ship’ – pointing to the knife. ‘Here, bos’n, take away that pig-sticker, and give this man a decent, Christian-like sheath-knife’. By the mid-1850s many Greek seamen had landed at Australian ports, but not one of them had come in a Greek ship. The appearance at Sydney in May 1855 of the brig Telemacho, of the Greek island of Spetses, therefore attracted some comment in the press. The master, named in a newspaper as ‘G.G. Chuppa’, had not sailed her directly from Greece, but from Uruguay, in a voyage lasting 85 days. The Empire reported: ‘The arrival in this port of a Greek vessel from the east coast of South America is a very unusual occurrence, and speculations have been rife as to the design in sending the brig Telemacho from Monte Video to Sydney. Being of only 222 tons measurement, and arriving in ballast it is very probable that her appearance here is only the consequence of her meeting with passengers desirous of trying their fortunes in Australia, and is not at all indicative of any prospective commercial enterprise.’ 24

A Hobart newspaper described the ship’s 62 passengers as ‘a motley crew’, adding, ‘she experienced very heavy weather, during the voyage, and lost the greater part of her sails’. The seamen aboard the Telemacho might also have been described as a ‘motley crew’, comprising as they did a German first mate and cook, five Englishmen, four Dutchmen and a solitary Greek sailor named Ydra. It is not known if there were any Greeks among her passengers. The ship berthed at Miller’s Point and a week later an advertisement appeared in the press advising that ‘the Greek brig Telemachos’ was available for freight or charter ‘to any port in the world’, and inviting applications to ‘D.N. Jaubert’. The rest of the Telemacho’s story is not a happy one. Her master, now referred to in a newspaper as ‘John Shouper’, was summoned to the water police court in Sydney late in June, but the case was dismissed for lack of jurisdiction, as the charge related to unpaid wages and the Telemacho was a foreign ship. The Telemacho passed the remainder of June and the whole of July in Sydney hoping for custom either for Adelaide or Mauritius, but she departed on 18 August without passengers and probably little, if any, cargo. Arriving at Port Adelaide on 9 September, the press there reported her to be under the command of ‘Geo. Schouti, master’. A few days later, two of the crew, named Frances Gurto and Antonio Bruce, described – wrongly it would seem – as ‘two Greeks’, were arraigned in the police court on a charge of ‘being absent without leave from the brig Telemach’. The magistrate, however, accepted that they had only left the ship to complain at the police station of their mistreatment on board, and he ordered them back to the brig with a caution. The Telemacho waited at Port Adelaide for the rest of September and much of the next month, hoping for passengers and cargo to pay for her onward voyage, but on 20 October there was a crisis when the master – now referred to in a newspaper as ‘J. Schoutir’ – was summarily arrested and charged at the police court with intending to leave the colony without settling a debt of £22 4s. 8d. owed to a local butcher. The master 25

acknowledged his liability, and there being an offer to deposit goods as security, the case was adjourned to allow some arrangement to be made between the parties. The denouement came a few weeks later when it was reported that the ‘polacca-rigged Greek brig’ had lately been sold by auction, and was now the property of a Mr Owston of Adelaide, who had obtained a new register for the ship, and named her the Amelia Breillat. The Herald in Sydney noted, ‘as soon as she is ready for sea, we understand it is the owner’s intention to send her to Sydney’. There was no mention of the fate of her former master. Newspaper reports in the 1840s suggesting a significant Greek presence in Melbourne were of no account, but in the next decades, Greeks did come together on the goldfields to form small communities. Perhaps the first of these was at Maryborough’s Mosquito Flat where Ioannis Kolalos and Antonios Spurios dug gold from the Cleopatra Reef in Grecian Gully in 1853, and were joined there by enough of their countrymen to form a Greek settlement. However, it was at Sandy Creek (today’s Tarnagulla), some 20 miles further north, that the Greeks made their presence felt, with as many as 50 working five major reefs by 1860, their discoveries being christened with Greek names: Corfu, Hellas, New Hellas, Athens and Greek’s Hill. The famed Corfu Reef was discovered in May 1859 by a Corfiot going by the name of Spiro Corfu. He and a Greek partner were digging on their claim about half way between Sandy Creek and Newbridge when they uncovered the rich vein. Several more men joined them to work the claim, and although some of them used English names, all are believed to have been Greeks. They soon made another big find nearby which they named the Hellas Reef. The first crushing of quartz from the new reef proved so rich that the miners raised the Greek flag over the diggings in jubilation. It was probably the first time those colours were seen fluttering under an Australian sky. An early report of the Corfu Reef said the stone was expected to yield at least ten ounces of gold to the ton, but a month later the local newspaper 26

reported it to be increasing in richness, ‘and if it continues at the present rate, will bid fair to eclipse any other reef in the district’. The same newspaper also observed that ‘On the Corfu reef the prospectors raise beautiful stone, a kind of a honey-combed quartz, and some of the specimens are literally interwoven with gold’. By September a small settlement known as Halfway had grown up around the Greeks’ claim. An ‘immense’ amount of quartz was then being raised from the Corfu Reef and was ‘estimated to yield at least 58 ounces per ton’. The place was expected to enjoy ‘an extremely prosperous future’. Sixty tons of the first quartz crushed included what a local newspaper claimed to be ‘the largest cake of amalgamated gold ever yet produced’, although this was disputed by another group of miners. The cake weighed 1,040 ounces, and was so valuable that ‘All the following night the lucky owners of the claim kept watch and ward over it, armed to the teeth’, and ‘On Saturday they escorted it into Dunolly’. It was, according to The Age in Melbourne, ‘a dazzling yield from a claim, a sixth share of which a few months ago could have been purchased for a score of pounds’. The ‘monster cake’ of amalgam was purchased by the Union Bank for over £4,000. Another newspaper said ‘the owners of a claim on the Corfu Reef, at Sandy Creek, crushed 50 tons of quartz, from which they obtained the enormous amount of £5,000 worth of gold. The fortunate owners are Greeks. They had no idea of the richness of their quartz’. The Greeks certainly had an idea of the richness of their quartz now, and they sent a letter to the editor of their local newspaper saying so: Sir, We have seen lately a great deal in the papers about the Corfu Reef … we are happy to inform you that the stones we are procuring will give from 16 to 20 ounces per ton. It was reported a short time ago that the Corfu Reef had run out, but such is not the case. There is not one of the party that would sell a share or half share for £2,000 sterling in the Corfu Reef.

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Near the end of 1859, the Corfu Reef mine had been sunk to 48 feet and was continuing to pay handsomely. Rumours were circulating that the partners had found another gold reef nearby ‘likely to be equally valuable’. For the settlement at Halfway, that Christmas and New Year season must have been a time of great cheer. Yet, just two years later, in December 1861, the Greeks’ fortunes had taken a dramatic turn. The situation was so serious that their registered claim on the ‘far famed, celebrated, Corfu Reef’ had to be put up for auction. The mine was by this time down to 130 feet and, according to their newspaper advertisement, ‘carried the gold and the reef all the way down’. The reef itself was ‘distinct and defined, 120 feet in length, from two to three feet wide at each end and nine feet in the centre’. The sale included all the plant and machinery: There is a splendid engine, almost newly erected, of twenty horse-power, with a most substantial boiler, and every thing complete. The crushing plant is also new and perfect, consisting of two batteries of twelve revolving stampers, with every thing in working order. The whole plant, in fact, with the dams, tanks, tramways, and other conveniences. The advertisement explained that the Greeks were selling their gold mine not because it was unprofitable, but because they could no longer operate it: ‘The whole is to be disposed of in consequence of a difference amongst the members of the company, which requires the affair to be finally wound up and closed’. A writer for The Argus in Melbourne observed: They had a splendid reef, and less than two years ago I saw them erecting a fine plant, at a cost of some thousands of pounds. Greek sailors, however, have a certain well-known character in every port they visit, and the idiosyncrasy to which it points was developed by the successes they achieved. Mutual distrust arose, insubordination followed, carelessness 28

supervened, and finally the auctioneer stepped in. The plant was sold for Buchanan’s Reef at Inglewood, and the mine itself was picked up under the hammer for an old song. Spiro Corfu continued on at Sandy Creek until Friday 5 August 1864 when, at about four o’clock in the afternoon, the men working on the Corfu Reef heard a gun shot in a nearby house. On forcing the door, they found Spiro lying dead on the floor with a wound in the left breast. The Tarnagulla Courier noted that the ‘Deceased was the discoverer of the Corfu reef, and was a Greek, of very sober habits, but latterly had shown symptoms of insanity’. In New South Wales, a locality on the Bathurst goldfields became known as ‘Greek town’. According to Gilchrist, this ‘collection of shanties’ on the northern outskirts of Tambaroora, ‘past a tented camp of more than a thousand Chinese miners’, was the home of about twenty Greek miners with their Irish or English wives, and a large number of children. Among these men was Nicholas Lambert, who later joined the rush to the Palmer River goldfield in the far north of Queensland and died there; the Kefalonian Christy Totolos who became an alderman on the Hill End Borough Council; ‘Honest John’ Demas who owned or managed several mines at Hill End, including the ‘All Nations Reef’; and Demetrios Moustakas, a former ship’s engineer from Hydra and another mine manager of note. Moustakas had jumped ship in 1859 at the age of nineteen. He made his way to the western goldfields of New South Wales to become a miner, and married Emma Baldock at Bathurst in 1867. Most of their 10 children were given Greek names: Demetrios, Aphrodite, Theophilus, Hector, Anthea, Quirinalia Mary, Leonidas, Helvetia, Cassandra and Orea Emma. In November 1873, Moustakas was managing a claim at Hill End when an accident occurred in a neighbouring mine. A man named Thomas Everitt had descended a deep shaft in the morning for an inspection and while coming up by rope and ladder was struck by falling stones and fell. Men 29

were lowered to the bottom of the shaft and dragged the deep water with grappling irons but could not find the body. By noon the following day, with ‘all the whim-horses on the hill’ pressed into service, the water level in the shaft had been lowered by 15 feet. The Empire newspaper in Sydney reported that at this point, ‘Demetrios Moustaka, a Greek, and manager of Hickson’s, the adjoining claim, volunteered to go down the shaft and see what he could do’. The Empire’s Hill End correspondent wrote: Moustaka was lowered into the water, and after some search succeeded in getting possession of the body. When it was brought to the surface of the water, this noble fellow bound the corpse to his own person, and gave the signal to wind up the rope. This act of courage and nerve needs no comment; it will last in the minds of those who saw it the rest of their days. Some years later, a newspaper correspondent writing under the name ‘Northumberland’ visited Hill End and found the principal quartz reef gold mine there to be the Star of Peace, which he inspected in company with the Mayor. The manager of the mine, and their guide, was none other than Demetrios Moustakas, ‘a man of marvellous resources, an engineer, miner, geologist, prospector, sailor, swimmer’, and further described by Northumberland, who liked to display his knowledge of the classics, ‘the last of the children of Priam’, and a man with ‘thews like Milo or Hercules’. He continued: Moustaka showed us quartz of a few days old where the gold was golden – i.e., virgin – gold, not corrupted with pyrites, &c., and studded like clusters of stars in the newly-smashed stone. It was a select lot of specimens, every piece of which was fat and heavy with the precious metal, and my worthy companion, Mr Mayor, and I nearly wept that the treasures 30

so carefully locked up by the son of Agamemnon were not available. The specimens of two day’s produce must be worth some hundreds of pounds. This claim has four engines, three water dams, a splendid tramway, and the fixings, shafts, engines, shoots, all are firm, noble, workmanlike, and substantial. I imagine 760 feet down, down every step for say 258 yards, down to Pluto and Proserpine and the wife of Orpheus! In later years, Moustakas went on to manage the Grecian Bend mine near Tambaroora, the Erroll copper mine at Blayney and the Prince of Wales gold mine near Mandurama. He was residing with his family at their home ‘Andromeda’ in the Sydney suburb of Petersham when death took him, too soon, in 1887. Among his children, the youngest daughter Emma would graduate a Bachelor of Arts at Sydney in 1897, the first person of Greek family to be awarded a degree at an Australian university. Few Greeks enjoyed the steady career of Demetrios Moustakas, or the ephemeral good luck of Spiro Corfu. Many laboured prodigiously on the goldfields for little return. One of these men was Peter Constantine, known on the Gulgong field of New South Wales as Con the Greek. Constantine had a reputation as a ‘sticker’ and ‘one of the most determined prospectors in the Colony’. In July 1871, he was ‘sinking his tenth deep shaft’, and expecting to bottom it at 150 feet. It was said that Gulgong’s Star Lead mine, which was ‘paying large wages’, had been discovered by Constantine due to his ‘sticking to it single handed for twelve months’. He was, according to one press correspondent, ‘an old and persevering prospector’ who belonged to ‘a small but useful class of miners who are mysteriously and pertinaciously bent on making much money for other people, but neglect themselves; who discover auriferous ground for other people to work and reap the benefit.’ Con the Greek’s torch at Gulgong was later taken up by George Tornor, inevitably known as George the Greek. A paragraph on this man’s 31

gold mining exploits appeared in newspapers in 1891 under the heading ‘A Mining Wonder’: Near Gulgong there is to be found a very remarkable old miner named George Tornor, known among the miners as George the Greek. He has been on the goldfield during its palmiest days, and has campaigned on the various rushes in most of the colonies. This venerable knight of the pick and shovel, like the rest of his class, has done more to develop the mining resources of the different colonies, and helped considerably to build the cities, towns, and villages in Australia and New Zealand during the last 40 years, than would be accomplished by any other class during the next 150 years. This and other mentions in the press were apparently enough to inspire a character in newspaper fiction named ‘Gulgong George’ – a gold miner injured in a fall down a shaft and in need of medical attention – who made a brief appearance in the short story ‘Candiotte’ published in The Australasian in 18873. For the central character in the narrative, the writer, David G. Falk, drew on an even more prominent goldfields Greek identity, the medical practitioner Spiridion Candiottis. Gold mining was a gamble and the bet was not always a profitable one. For some it ended very badly. One of the unfortunates was a Greek at Lower Huntly on the Bendigo field who went by the name of John Potter. In March 1862, as he was climbing up the ‘man rope’ in a shaft about a hundred feet deep, the rope broke and ‘the “balance” at the top – composed of a bag full of mullock, about a hundred and a half in weight – fell down on his loins and stomach, causing him to let go his hold and fall to the bottom’. He was taken to the hospital, ‘where he expired the following day from the severe injuries received’. 3 The short story by Falk is retold in Chapter 9.

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The Age in December 1864 reported the sad case of ‘Theodore Jeresshy’, said to be ‘a Greek, aged about forty years’, who lived with his wife and children at Inkerman in Victoria’s central goldfields. ‘The poor fellow had been unlucky at digging, and his family were literally starving. On Tuesday afternoon he determined to try his luck again, and said that he knew some ground in which gold might be obtained, although it was considered unsafe to work there. He proceeded to a shaft and commenced working in an old unpropped drive; he had only been there a few minutes when about a hundredweight of dirt fell on his back, severely injuring his spine.’ Poor Theodore was taken to the Dunolly hospital, where his condition was reported to be ‘hopeless’. Another unlucky Greek, Nicholas Limberio, was mining at Victoria’s Mosquito Flat near Maryborough in 1874. He very unwisely used an iron rod to tamp down a charge of blasting powder and it produced a spark. The charge exploded, causing ‘dreadful injuries’ to his face, hands and chest. Limberio lingered in hospital for weeks before dying, and at the inquest it was said that he had been urged many times to use the wooden tamping rods provided at the claim, ‘but he paid not the slightest heed to the cautions given’. Colonial newspapers recorded the misadventures of other Greeks, noting the circumstances and mentioning their nationality. Among them were men who, by necessity or choice, ventured into remote parts of the continent and risked their lives on the frontier. One of them was Stephen George, who made a living with a string of pack horses, travelling the road between Cairns and the tableland in the far north of Queensland. A newspaper report noted his Greek origins and described him as ‘an industrious, reliable man’, who ‘made it a rule upon all journeys to behave kindly to such blacks as he happened to meet with’. One day in February 1878 George’s kindliness did not help him. After leading his four laden horses up the range and reaching the top near the house of a man named McCullum, ‘some fifty blacks surrounded him’ and ‘attacked him at once’. After spearing George, the Aborigines escaped into the scrub with his horses and their loads of flour, sugar and other goods. 33

A more graphic account appeared in another newspaper: ‘Stephen George, a well known packer, came running towards M’Cullum, with a spear in one hand, calling loudly, and exclaiming “I’m killed!” ’. George’s back was streaming with blood from two spear wounds. One spear had entered his left side near the lower part of the ribs, but he was able to wrench it out. However, the newspaper noted that on seeing this, ‘the black wretches threw a second, which unfortunately entered the right side about two inches and a-half; this second spear is the one he had in his hand when he came to M’Cullum’s’. George was taken to the hospital in Cairns where his wounds were treated and he was expected to recover and take to the road again. The following year, further to the west near the gold town of Thornborough, a man using the name Johnson, and known to be a Greek, was riding and fell from his horse. He had been seated in a pack saddle with leather straps serving as stirrups and, in falling, one foot was caught in a strap. Johnson must have struggled desperately to free himself, but to no avail, and the horse dragged him off the road and into the bush where he was not found for eight days. By that time the unfortunate man was long dead and his body, according to a newspaper report, ‘was in such a state of putrefaction that it was impossible to go near it’. On the news arriving at Thornborough, a party led by a police constable and a doctor went out to identify and bury the body. At Herberton, the Advertiser newspaper reported in 1884 that a local gold miner named George Katoofa, ‘better known as George the Greek’, narrowly escaped drowning while crossing a flooded creek a few miles from the town. The newspaper said it was raining ‘in torrents’ at the time, and that George was ‘no sooner in it than he was swept off his horse. He, however, had presence of mind to divest himself of his great-coat when in the water and then swam and reached the shore, his horse reaching the bank all safe’. It was reported that ‘Katoofa imbibed more than his usual quota of water while taking his coat off, but soon after managed to mix it with Hennessey’s Battle Axe, by which mixture he reports himself to be none the worse from the immersion’. 34

Further north, Peter Flerigo, known as Peter the Greek, was crewing a bêche-de-mer boat, named the North Star in August 1885. He and his mates went ashore to camp on a beach at Restoration Island off the coast of Cape York and, as they slept, they were attacked by a large band of Aborigines. A crewman named McLaughlin took a spear in the abdomen while ‘Peter was speared through both wrists, the left thigh, right and left hip, the left arm above the elbow, and in the back just below the left shoulder blade with a four-pronged fish spear’. If this was not enough, he also received a spear ‘through the bottom lip, and thence through the upper jaw to a depth of 2½in.’ Two ‘kanakas’ (islanders) in the crew, who suffered lesser injuries, were able to remove the spears from the injured men, but McLaughlin died and was buried on the spot. Peter Flerigo made it to the hospital at Cooktown but died of his wounds about a fortnight after the attack. He was buried in the Catholic section of the cemetery, the service being read by the Rev. J. Wright of the Primitive Methodist Church, with nearly a hundred mourners accompanying his body to the graveside. In western Queensland in 1886, it was reported that the body of a prospector known as George the Greek, who had been missing for some seven or eight weeks, had been found by ‘a constable and a black boy’ in the bush about 60 miles from Charters Towers. There were signs of a struggle at the scene and pieces of clothing were scattered about. The Brisbane Courier informed its readers that the remains were found ‘between the Billy Goat Mountains and the Rollstone Range’, and it appeared that ‘the unfortunate man must have been torn to pieces by native dogs’. Another Greek named George met his end at Cockermouth Island off the central Queensland coast. The captain of the ketch Nellie reported to the police at Bowen in September 1886, that he had come across a boat lying high and dry on a beach and, with it, the skeleton of man. As the remains were lying partly in and partly out of the boat, he guessed that the man had been trying to get into it when he died. It was the end of October before an official party reached the spot. They found a decked, clinkerbuilt boat with two top planks painted white, the upper plank decorated 35

with a blue ribbon. With it was the ‘bleached skeleton of a male adult’, which they buried on the spot, noting that the dead man appeared to have been collecting coral, shells and sponges. A leather pouch found in the boat contained papers from which it was determined that the skeleton was of a man known as George the Greek, who had been missing from Bowen with his boat, Alexandra, for about a year. In May 1897, the West Australian newspaper reported the lonely death of one more George the Greek. This man was described as ‘an old digger’, who perished in the remote Mount Mortimer goldfields of Western Australia, the cause of his demise being scurvy. It should not be thought that every George the Greek met with misfortune. Many flourished in the new country. One of them was encountered in 1887 by a newspaper correspondent writing under the name ‘Sketcher’, when he sailed along the northern tropical coast in ‘a very smart-looking little yacht of five tons’, named the Maid of Athens: Her owner is George Demetrius, of Port Douglas, better known as George the Greek. The little Maid is a very fast sailer, and can – either as regards speed or weatherly qualities – run rings round any other craft in the North. I chartered her so as to be able to visit the northern rivers which are out of the usual run of steamships, and during my eight days journey was in every way pleased with the Grecian beauty and her classical captain. I cannot imagine a pleasanter outing for the Brisbane resident than to come North, and visit in the Maid of Athens, and under the care of her obliging captain, the Northern rivers, the coral reefs, and the innumerable islands of the Australian archipelago.

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CHAPTER 4

Dagoes In the late 19th century, Greece supported a wealthy upper class of shipowners, merchants and large landowners, but most of the people were poor, making their living as subsistence farmers, fishermen and labourers. The country’s economy was heavily dependent on currants grown for export, an industry that flourished in the absence of competition from other grape-growing regions where the vines had been blighted for years by the phyloxera pest. Puddings spotted with currants were popular among Britain’s rising middle class and, by the 1870s, they were consuming tens of thousands of tons of the Greek fruit every year. But when Europe’s vines began producing again in the early 1890s, the market was flooded, causing a fall in the world price and the collapse of the industry in Greece. The Greek economy was already in a parlous state due to a heavy government debt and an international financial panic sparked by a banking crisis in London. When the Prime Minister, Harilaos Trikoupis, announced in December 1893 that the Greek state was insolvent, the country fell into a depression from which it would not recover for many years. Greeks responded by emigrating in numbers not seen since the fall of Constantinople, most of them going to the USA, many to Egypt, and lesser numbers to other countries including Australia. A writer for the Sydney Morning Herald, in offering his impressions of the newcomers from Europe, confirmed some popular prejudices. He also revealed his ignorance in suggesting that Malta and Cyprus were inhabited

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by ‘mongrel Greeks’ and that a common ‘Dago’ language was spoken along the shores of the Mediterranean: … they are all from the South, these men – the South, as one calls it in Europe. Swarthy and bronzed and hidden in shapeless oilskins, one can still detect, in their agile movements and energy of gesticulation, the peculiarities of the hot blooded Mediterranean races. They are Italians, Sicilians, Corsicans, with a fair sprinkling of the mongrel Greek peculiar to Malta and Cyprus. They jabber to each other in the lingua franca which passes current all along the shores of the Mediterranean; and they row, not as we English, by sitting down and pulling backwards, but by standing up and pushing forwards. I do not know which is the better method, but at any rate the Italians have the advantage of being able to see where they are going. These and many other signs that I might mention, indicate clearly that the majority of the fishermen who fish in the harbour are what the sailor men would call Dagos. By this time not only sailors were using the term ‘Dago’; it was entering common parlance and, from time to time, the Australian press liked to ruminate on its origins. An early occasion was in 1895 when the Australian Town and Country Journal presented an article on the subject taken from an American newspaper. This stated that in the early 19th century Portuguese seamen would sail on ships of any flag, and captains were glad to take them, as they were ‘splendid sailors and worked cheap’. The name ‘Diego’ was said to be common among them (although the forms Tiago, Diago and Diogo were more usual among Portugese speakers) and it became the custom to refer to them as ‘Diegos’ and, in time, ‘Dagoes’. The Portugese sailors ‘took it kindly’, but in time it became offensive to them, as it became to all the others to whom the 38

designation was eventually extended, including ‘Spaniards, Italians and all dark-skinned people other than negroes’. Later articles on the subject in the Australian press traced ‘Dago’ to Spanish sailors and Spain’s patron Saint Iago (or Diego), or to the Spanish ‘yo digo’ and Portugese ‘eu digo’, their phrases for ‘I say’. Others suggested that the origins of ‘Dago’ were not to be found among seafarers, but among Americans of the Southwest, who applied it to Mexicans and Hispanics. In Australia, Greeks were counted among the ‘Dagoes’, and it may be that this was the nationality of one Nicholas Paulovre, a labourer, who, as early as August 1887, complained to the police at Port Adelaide in South Australia at having the epithet directed at him. This led to a charge against James Malone, also a labourer, for the use of threatening language, to which Malone pleaded not guilty. At a hearing before two justices in the police court, Paulovre said that in the street near the Port Admiral Hotel, Malone had called him ‘a b – “dago,” a “demon,” and various other insulting names without provocation’. A witness was called to corroborate his evidence, but conflicting statements from other witnesses, together with an argument for the defence that ‘the name “Dago” was applied to every foreigner locating in Port Adelaide’, led the bench to dismiss the charge. It would be years before southern Europeans affronted by this ethnic slur could get some redress. In 1910, the central police court in Sydney upheld a charge of indecent language against Alfred Davis, a navy seaman, who called an Italian man a ‘Dago’ in George Street on a Saturday night. Davis was ordered to pay a fine of 29s or spend seven days in gaol. About a decade later, in 1921, Emanuel Mavromatis, the Greek proprietor of the Sydney Cafe in George Street, took offence at being described as ‘a profiteering Dago’ by a commercial traveller named William Davis. Mavromatis complained to the police and the matter proceeded to court where Davis was ordered to pay a fine of 20s or serve seven days in gaol at hard labour. Greeks arriving at Sydney in the early 1890s had a mixed reception. There were no great demonstrations against them even though the 39

Australian colonies were in the throes of the worst economic depression they had known. However, poor immigrants were viewed as a threat to workers’ wages and conditions and this was the cause of angst in union ranks and at the Trades and Labour Council, and some circles in the parliament. They joined with protectionist and Anglocentric – indeed racist – elements to form an ‘Anti-Pauper Alien league’ which published a manifesto in January 1893. This document put forward an array of restrictions and taxes designed to stem the inflow of ‘pauper aliens’, and warned of the ‘vast alien army foregathering in the east and the west to invade and possess this sunny southern land’. The invasion was said to threaten the ‘civilization of this continent and the yet struggling institution of the young Australian democracy’: Already this country is overrun with pauper aliens of almost every nationality, creed, and colour. Among them are to be seen – in addition to Chinese and Kanakas – Afghans, Arabs, Cingalese, Egyptians, Hindoos, Malays, Greeks, Italians, and Syrians, the great majority of whom are of a very degraded and repulsive type. Few of them can be said to possess those qualities requisite for Australian citizenship, such as enterprise, intelligence, industry, and capital. They engage, for the most part, in those occupations where none of these qualities are indispensable. As itinerant hawkers, dealers, small stall and shop keepers, they compete with crushing effect against respectable native traders, thousands of whom they have displaced and ruined. In January 1893, the Anti-Pauper Alien League organised a ‘monster mass meeting’ in Sydney’s Protestant Hall. It was chaired by the president of the New South Wales Trades and Labour Council, flanked by officers of his organisation and by several members of the legislative assembly. The Anti-Chinese League and Melbourne Trades Hall were represented. 40

The Sydney Morning Herald reported that the meeting was well attended, but ‘far from decorous, with interruptions and hostile demonstrations being the rule rather than the exception’. The chairman rose to sound the alarm at the number of aliens coming to Australia and called for them to be ‘swept away, as far as possible, out of our midst’. A speaker who demanded legislation against aliens already in the country, and to stop more from entering, was greeted with cheers. Another complained of the Afghan cameleers and hawkers in the Bourke district of western New South Wales who worked for low wages; he warned that these ‘inferior races’ would eventually ‘reduce the Australian workers to their own level’. Yet another complained that aliens were ‘boycotting white men at the fish markets at Woolloomooloo and elsewhere’ and making inroads into the fruit trade. But the meeting was not of one mind, and there were cheers for a man who warned that, with an election approaching, there were ‘more important subjects to be dealt with’, and that attacking poor foreigners was ‘a red herring drawn across the trail’. He was supported by another who said, ‘undesirable persons in Australia are not those of our fellow men who happen to be of foreign birth, but those plutocratic politicians – (cheers) – who attempt by side issues to throw the workers off the right track’. Motions and amendments were put until the meeting came to a ‘very disorderly’ end. Later that year, a tirade against a ‘fruit monopoly’ appeared in Sydney’s Evening News. The anonymous writer railed against ‘middlemen’, who, it was claimed, had within the last four or five years managed to get ‘absolute control of the retail fruit trade, as they have done of the fish and oyster business, both as catchers and vendors’. It was said that ‘Giuseppe Giovanni and Demitri Dertiji’ were depriving the poorer ‘natives’ – a reference to British-Australians not Aborigines – of a living, and forcing everyone to pay higher prices. Furthermore, Italians and Greeks had ‘none of John Chinaman’s good qualities, but all his bad ones, added to a great many others peculiar to themselves’:

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A great agitation is periodically raised against the competition of Asiatics like the Chinese and Hindoos, and Afghans, and Africans like the Syrians [sic], the more readily because they are dark-skinned. These Italians and Greeks, presumably because they are Europeans – although, their skins are quite as dark and often much dirtier – are allowed to compete with our citizens almost without a protest. At this time, New South Wales had the services of an Honorary Greek Consul, Mr Angelos Pholeros, who was rather inconveniently located in a grocery shop in the town of Parkes, some 220 miles west of Sydney. Fortunately, the consul had the assistance in the capital of an astute secretary in the person of Charles Stein who, in a letter to the Evening News, ably refuted the charges made against the Greeks: … the directory shows that there exist some 350 fruit shops in this city and its suburbs, of which it is impossible that the Greeks can hold a very large percentage, for they only number 200 in all New South Wales, the majority being engaged in the interior in mining and agricultural pursuits, and the greater part of the few Greeks in Sydney are in the restaurant, tobacco, oyster, and fish trades, or work on the wharves … Greeks do not occupy more than a very few fruit shops; do not, as a rule, lead immoral lives; are not dirty in their habits, and as to laziness, your writer contradicts himself by accusing them of this fault on one hand, and on the other, arraigning them for having the absolute control of the fruit trade! The arrival of a wave of Greeks in Melbourne in the early 1890s was described in a more generous spirit by ‘Hawkeye’, who wrote for the city’s Herald newspaper. He observed that some years earlier, ‘there was scarcely a Greek in the place, while now the city is overrun with them. All who favour 42

us with their company appear to occupy oyster saloons and fruit marts’. According to this writer, the Greek who chose Melbourne for his sojourn was ‘of the true type’. He was ‘well-made, but not a big man. He has jet black hair, an aquiline nose, as a rule set in an oval face, dark lustrous eyes, and clean cut features. He only wears a moustache; a beard on the face of a Greek being a sign of mourning’. The business acumen of the Greeks impressed ‘Hawkeye’: These aliens from the Hellenic Kingdom would feel insulted if you even hinted that in their social ways they resembled Chinese. Yet, in trade, industry, and the capacity to live cheaply, there is much in common with the Mongolian … The love for the fatherland is as strong to-day in Melbourne amongst the scattered handful as it was in the days of Miltiades and Themistocles. Still this does not prevent them loving to make money out of us. Greeks are born traders, and if they do not drive bargains it is not their fault. ‘Hawkeye’ presented a man he called ‘Karro’ as an archetype for the Melbourne Greek of 1892, although his account reveals an uncertain grasp of Mediterranean geography: This man left his native hamlet built on the crags of Aspromonte [a mountain in Calabria] some four years ago. He also left his sweetheart, and brings with him only the memory of her face as she sat with him beneath the shade of gigantic oleanders smothered with pink and white blossoms. With breaking, though trusting heart he bid farewell ‘to Snowy Aetna [a mountain in Sicily] nurse of endless frost, the prop of heaven’, and took his last fond look across the blue Ionian. ‘Karro’ was described as arriving in Melbourne with a net worth equal to ‘what his clothes would fetch’. He would immediately join with 43

some family of Greeks described as his ‘cousins’, and this, according to ‘Hawkeye’, was ‘another point of resemblance to the Mongolian’. ‘Karro’ was soon sent out hawking fruit, or assisting in an oyster saloon, his pay at first being ‘no more than his keep’: At night he finds his way to some miserable house in Collingwood (as a rule), which they rent for a bagatelle. Here the young Greeks, and for that matter the old, stay until they have ‘served their time with the family’. If they prove smart, and they generally do, one of the successful oyster saloon keepers or fruiterers makes it known to a house agent that he wants a shop in some central position. ‘Not too much money – very poor man.’ I never knew a Greek to complete any transaction where money was concerned without the words, ‘Very poor man!’ If the shop selected turns out to be a paying concern, the newly arrived Hellene will receive a share in it. ‘Hawkeye’ concluded: The Greeks are doing very well here all round, though they suffer, inasmuch as a landlord always requires more rent from them as tenants than from an Englishman. They are fighting at the present time against prejudices not easily understood. The majority of them have no intention of staying in this Colony when they have made their ‘pile’. Like Karro, they have a sweetheart waiting for them somewhere in Greece, to whom, when the time comes, they will fly with a shower of Australian gold. Even before a Greek presence was noticed in Australia’s cities, popular culture seems to have turned against them. If a foreign villain was needed in a work of fiction or on the stage, a Greek character would often be 44

pressed into service. In the short story, ‘The D’Arceys of Beacon Hall’, published in The Tasmanian in 1875, appeared the lines: I would have wished that those miserable and despicable Greeks had not run away; and above all, that they had not taken those papers, however they got them; but since they have gone and the loss of these things is irremediable, it is necessary to bear up and endeavour to make the best of it. In ‘Thicker Than Water’, a short story published in Adelaide’s Evening Journal in 1883, the author, James Payne, wrote, ‘there was nothing strange to him in those he met. The thieving Greek and the sullen Mulatto, the bland Chinaman, and the grinning Negro, were all familiar to him’. In ‘The Golden Ladder’, a drama by George R. Sims and Wilton Barrett, presented at Adelaide’s Theatre Royal in 1888, the hero, the Rev. Frank Thornhill, ‘a young and worthy missionary’, comes home to claim a valuable mine to which he is entitled; alas, his nemesis, Michael Severn, ‘aided by Peranza (a Greek adventurer)’, has stolen the title deeds of the mine and endeavours to effect a sale. Yet another work in the ‘nefarious Greek’ genre was ‘My Jack’, a play by Benjamin Landeck presented at Sydney’s Her Majesty’s Theatre in 1890. It related the tale of Jack Meredith, ‘an ocean waif cast up by the sea from a wreck on the coast, and found senseless on the beach by Ciro, a Greek ruffian, who robs the helpless infant of the papers which establish his identity and title’. David Christie Murray, in ‘Rainbow Gold’, bettered them all with his depiction of perfect Greek wretchedness in the pages of the Adelaide Observer in 1886: The dirty Greek who kept the dirtier khan at Orkhanie stood at his door with his hands tacked into the sleeves of his disreputable sheepskin coat, worn wool inside, and looked at the weather. ‘Athanas,’ he said to his factotum, ‘we shall have snow.’ 45

‘We shall have snow,’ said Athanas in answer, ‘and the pass will be blocked. There is enough snow in the skies to fill up all the chinks in the hills and make a flat level with the top of the Buyuk Balkan.’ A Greek of the lower classes always lies – when he can. When he cannot lie he exaggerates vilely. But beyond a doubt the coming snowstorm would be heavy. ‘Who comes here?’ ‘Three horses,’ said the khanjee. ‘Hurry in Athanas. Stir the fire – put on more wood. Light a mangal and set it in the front room. Sheitan git, giaour! Thou art as slow as a worm.’ The foreigners in interior Turkey call each other foreigner by way of contempt, after the manner of the dwellers in the land where they sojourn. The impression given of the Greeks was not uniformly vile. In 1893 the wonderfully titled Warragul Guardian and Buln Buln and Narracan Shire Advocate published this ‘sweet’ Greek lullaby, while cautioning that such verses ‘do not very readily lend themselves to translation’: Oh. sleep, who takest little ones, Take to thee my darling; A tiny one I give him now, A big boy bring him to me, As tall as any mountain grown And straight as lofty cypress; His branches let him spread about. Greek dignity received a fillip with the presentation of the first modern Olympic Games in Athens, held over ten days in April 1896. More than 100,000 people filled the stadium, erected on the site where the last Olympics were held before the games were suppressed by the Emperor Theodosius in AD 394. The games attracted much interest in Australia, 46

especially when a young Victorian, Edwin Flack of Melbourne, won the 800 and 1,500 metres foot races. However, the great victory of the games was that of the poor Greek water-carrier, Spiridon Louis, who won the long distance run from the ancient tumulus at Marathon to the stadium in Athens. Interviewed some years later by a press correspondent writing under the name ‘Pegasus’, Edwin Flack recalled the race from Marathon: This event created extraordinary interest, and the Greeks had set their hearts on winning it. On the previous night prayers were offered in the churches for the success of the Greek competitors, and one of their number (who proved the winner) visited the church on the morning of the race and prayed for victory. The streets were lined and the road between the two points was thronged for miles. Over 200,000 excited people had gathered along the route and at the finishing point. It was not money that created the interest. There was no betting, and the prizes were medals and diplomas and the much-coveted laurel. It was a feeling of patriotism which had seized all classes, rich and poor alike. The race from Marathon aside, Edwin Flack did not think much of the athletic abilities of the Greeks. When asked, ‘Do the Greeks still retain the prowess which distinguished the race in ancient times?’ Flack is reported to have smiled and said, ‘No, they are very poor athletes, and were beaten in all the competitions save one, the run from Marathon to Athens, 25 miles.’ However, this was far from the truth. Greece used its home ground advantage to field a large team of athletes and achieved the highest medal count of the games; its tally of 10 gold medals was bettered only by the USA, which won 11. The Olympics lifted spirits in Greece where economic gloom still prevailed, but a provincial newspaper in Western Australia carried an article, originating in the British press, that warned of Greek hubris: ‘Soon 47

after the successful accomplishment of these Olympic games, which had revived the ancient national spirit in the Greek nation, the troubles between Moslems and Christians in Crete broke out. Great popular excitement was occasioned, and large bands of volunteers left Greece to assist their fellowChristians in Crete’. An article in Melbourne’s Age in July 1896 pondered the future of the great island, and posed the question troubling Whitehall: ‘Is Crete to be the match that shall set Europe ablaze?’ It noted that during an earlier uprising in the 1860s, there had been the same apprehension. Union with Greece had been the wish of most inhabitants of Crete since the outbreak of the War of Independence in 1821, but in spite of repeated uprisings the island remained an Ottoman province. This was due in large part to Britain’s preference for the status quo. As The Age observed, ‘If Crete be allowed to pass to Greece, possible developments fraught with grave consequences must be looked for. In Crete is the anchorage of Suda Bay, the finest harbor in the Eastern Mediterranean, which it would dominate if in the hands of a great power possessed of a fleet.’ It was feared in Whitehall that the Greeks would let the Russians into Suda Bay. In Sydney in April 1897, a journalist from the Sydney Mail interviewed the Greek Consul, Mark Maniakis, who in earlier years had visited Crete a number of times on behalf of a firm of merchants in England. The interviewer wrote: ‘There is nothing specially heroic about fish and oysters, but they are evidently stimulative of patriotism. When the few Greeks in Sydney were appealed to at the time of the last revolution in Crete they sent to the Cretan Committee, through Mr Maniachi, some £90. This time he expects they will send £250, and already 30 or 40 men of the little community have volunteered to pay their own passages and return home to take their places in the army of their country. That is true patriotism. The very boys in the oyster saloons who are employed opening oysters, or waiting, will freely give a £5 note to the cause.’ Men were preparing to return to Greece to enlist in the Hellenic Army, as the troubles in Crete had ignited a mainland war with the Ottoman 48

Empire. The fighting would be over before they could set foot on Greek soil but this was not known then, and sympathy and admiration were expressed for the departing Greeks. One newspaper described a widow who farewelled her only son as a ‘Spartan mother’. Another commented that Australians would not fail to appreciate ‘the pluck and enterprise of their fellow Greek colonists’, who had ‘suddenly and effectually increased their reputation in the eyes of Australians’. It was reported that numbers of ‘Britishers’ resident in Sydney had offered to serve in the war, but had been declined by the Greek Consul. An exception was made in the case of a young lady, Miss Edith Head, who had offered to travel to Greece at her own expense and serve there as a hospital nurse. But when the war ended in an abrupt and inglorious defeat, the Australian press made no further mention of brave fellow-colonists and fell into line with British disapproval of the Greek adventure. The Australasian in Melbourne carried a graphic account of ‘Greek Panic’ in the retreat to Larissa: A dozen or more horsemen, accompanied by a few riderless steeds, appeared, shouting in a perfect frenzy, ‘Run, run; the Turks are here’. In a moment there was a stampede. The animals were lashed by the men. Women, children, and soldiers pell-mell made one mad rush forward. Many fell, and were trampled to death. Vehicles of every description were overturned, mixing together in inextricable confusion bedding, furniture, ammunition, horses, donkeys, oxen, buffaloes, in the depths of the black night. The Telegraph in Brisbane drew the inevitable comparisons with the ancient Greeks and lamented that the conduct of Greek soldiers at Larissa could be so ‘cowardly’. This could be explained, the newspaper said, by the ‘years of degradation’ to which the Greeks had been subjected under Turkish rule:

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There has not yet been time enough for them to recover their sense of self-respect, and the manly bearing which comes of it. There was a chorus of condemnation. The Esperance Times deplored ‘the headstrong folly of the Greeks’, and their ‘insane’ act in advancing into Ottoman Macedonia and Epirus. The Toowoomba Chronicle lamented their ‘ignominious defeat’, without so much as ‘a single struggle that could be called brave, much less heroic’. Blame was heaped upon the ‘Duke of Sparta’, the young Crown Prince who commanded the Greek forces. However, Constantine would learn from the experience and fifteen years later, an older and wiser man, he would lead the Greek army to victory in Macedonia. As the 19th century drew to a close, attention turned to the proposed union of the Australian colonies in a federation. Sir Henry Parkes, in a speech given at his Sydney electorate of St Leonards, had set out the essential reasons for uniting the Australian people. One was the defence of the continent by federal forces that could be ordered ‘to any point of the 8,800 miles of Australian coastline, wherever danger threatened’. The other was the control of immigration so as to ‘properly restrict the undue influx of the millions upon millions of the inferior races within easy ocean distance’. New South Wales anticipated the national policy by passing the Immigration Restriction Act of 1898, a measure which, if it did not wholly satisfy the Anti-Pauper Alien League, did provide the government with a wide discretion to refuse entry to certain immigrants by subjecting them to what became known as the ‘Dictation Test’. This required the hopeful immigrant to write out in his own handwriting an application expressed in some European Language determined by officials at the border. As was noted in The Riverine Grazier newspaper at Hay in New South Wales, ‘the tendency of the Act will be to exclude illiterate persons of every nationality, and especially Asiatics, who will naturally experience more difficulty in the prescribed task of writing out an application in a European language than will a European’. The Riverine Grazier also noted that, under the new Act, ‘it is said that 50

the Greek Gipsies [sic] who are now troubling the Victorian Government will be precluded from entering this Colony’. This was a reference to a group of Romany people who had landed from a French steamer at Largs Bay in South Australia some months earlier. The Gypsies were happy to tell anyone who inquired that they were refugees from the recent war in Greece, having been driven from their homes in Thessaly by the advancing Turks, and later encouraged to leave for Australia with tales of easily won gold. In time, the immigrants made their way on foot some 220 miles to Victoria where the welcome was less than enthusiastic. The Leader in Melbourne reported, ‘Each township contributes towards sending them on in order to get rid of a possible liability by shifting it on to the shoulders of a neighbor … They are 23 in all and are miserable, half-starved looking creatures. They are most importunate beggars and most undesirable visitors.’ Melbourne’s Greeks did not welcome them either. Some ninety-four members of the community, headed by the prominent businessman Antony Lucas, sent a letter to The Argus, stating, ‘Let your readers thoroughly understand that these gypsies are not Greeks and are not deserving of sympathy’. Alexander Maniakis, who would later serve as Greek Consul in Melbourne, agreed they were not ethnic Greeks, but portrayed them in a somewhat different light: ‘They are possessed of Greek passports and speak the language, somewhat imperfectly; the younger members, of whom several were born in Thessaly, speak Greek better. They are tinkers by trade, but live principally by fortune-telling.’ Eventually, when the peripatetic Gypsies reached the Murray River at Albury in January 1899, the customs officers, acting on instructions from Sydney, stopped them from crossing the bridge into New South Wales. An Albury newspaper suggested they were refused entry as ‘undesirable immigrants’, while a Sydney paper said they had been ‘judiciously stopped, under the Aliens Immigration Act’ .4 They are the first immigrants from Greece known to have been turned away at an Australian colonial border. 4 The Greek Gypsies were not formally determined to be prohibited immigrants. In 1902, following federation, they were able to enter New South Wales.

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CHAPTER 5

Nicholas Millar In September 1859, a man named Nicholas Miller was called as a witness in a case before the Sydney police court. A single woman, living in the disreputable part of the city around Harrington Street known as The Rocks, had complained of being stabbed during an argument. The accused was a thirteen-year-old boy and Miller’s evidence in the boy’s favour was enough for the court to discharge him with a warning. It may be that Nicholas Miller was the same man as Nicholas ‘Millar’, who about a year and a half later was brought before the police court at Orange in New South Wales on charges of obscene language and assault. This last-mentioned Nicholas, thanks to the journalist who reported the case, comes clearly into view as a Greek: ‘When Greek Meets Greek Then Comes the Tug of War’ … it appears that the well where Millar (a native of Greece) resides went dry; he took the liberty on Tuesday night last at eight o’clock to visit his neighbour’s well (an ancient native of the Green Isle) who thereupon demurred, and followed it up by attempting a summary ejection from the premises of his importunate neighbour. The old Hellenic ire of the Grecian burst into violent and instant flame in consequence, and a melee was the natural result, which for the time made ‘night hideous’ with the yells and execrations of the combatants,

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and alarmed the denizens of our usually quiet town, who hastened to the spot in large numbers. The battle was short, but furious in the extreme: an axe and long-handled shovel were the warlike implements, besides the usual fisticuffs on such occasions given and received. The son of Erin was severely handled, and was the first rendered hors de combat, [unable to fight] but ultimately came off ‘second best’ by having his antagonist incarcerated in durance vile [a long prison sentence], and fined in the sum of £5 and costs. It seems that the fine was not in addition to the prison term, but in lieu of it, and not long after paying the £5 Nicholas Millar quit the western goldfields of New South Wales and journeyed, with a wife and infant in tow, to the new colony of Queensland. They settled in Rockhampton and Nicholas soon found employment as a crewman on one of the sailing ketches carrying passengers, cargo and mails between the northern ports. It was 1861 and colonial settlement on the north Queensland coast and its hinterland was just beginning. The northernmost outpost was Port Denison, now Bowen, about two weeks sailing from Rockhampton. Between these two ports lay 400 miles of heavily forested coastal ranges, valleys and adjacent islands, the home of a large Aboriginal population. The group who occupied the Whitsunday and Cumberland islands were the Ngaro, a seafaring people who made canoes with bark stripped from ironbark trees that they expertly sewed together and made watertight with pine gum. In their canoes, the Ngaro would skim with little effort and much grace across the waters between the islands, and to the mainland at Cape Conway. One Saturday in August 1861, the 12-ton ketch Ellida left Port Denison on the north Queensland coast carrying the mails and a number of passengers on her return voyage to Rockhampton. The next day she arrived at Fitzallan Point on Whitsunday Island where a party of men were felling hoop pines and sawing timber for the construction of new government buildings at Port Denison. The Ellida anchored there for the night and set 53

sail again the following morning, but her master was deterred by heavy weather from taking the little ketch onto the open sea and decided to anchor off Passage Island and wait for better conditions. Early the next morning, Tuesday 27 August, the Ellida set sail again, but around midday, with the tide falling and the wind lying dead ahead, her master headed her into the large bay formed by the partly encircling islands of the Shaw group, and early that afternoon anchored about a cable length from the shore of an unnamed island. From their anchorage, the occupants of the Ellida had a clear view of Shaw Island, which lay about a mile and a quarter away. Thomas McEwen, owner and master of the Ellida, was a capable mariner who would spend many years navigating the coastal waters of Queensland. But he was a relatively young man at the time of this voyage, and this may have contributed to the difficulty he experienced in imposing his authority on the crew, a couple of hardened seamen acquainted with the wrong side of the law. One was the Greek, Nicholas Millar, an amiable man, if too much ruled by his passions. The other was Patrick Savage, an illiterate sailor who would be brought before the police court later that year for neglect of service and disobedience while serving on the Ben Bolt, another ketch engaged in the northern coasting trade. The Ellida was carrying three passengers on this voyage. One was Frederick Byerley, who had spent a number of years as Government Surveyor in the Geelong district of Victoria before settling at Rockhampton, and who was destined to become Engineer of Roads in North Queensland. Another was Henry Irving of Broadsound, a bachelor known for his ‘liveliness and vivacity, and a penchant for practical jokes’, and who had by some means become the holder of over 300,000 acres of land on the north Queensland coast. The third passenger was a man named George Lowe who kept to himself and appears to have made no statement about the things that came to pass on this voyage of the Ellida. In the middle of the afternoon, a canoe carrying two Aborigines approached the Ellida at her mooring. They made signs that they wished to come alongside and as they seemed friendly they were permitted to do so. 54

They were allowed on board and given some food and the older of the two men was made a gift of some fish hooks by Frederick Byerley. The Aborigines then paddled away but soon returned, now in four canoes, each containing two men, bringing presents of fish, turtle and spearheads. On being shown some firewood they paddled to the near shore and returned with a load of dry wood. The men of the Ellida were at dinner by this time and Frederick Byerley noted how the crewman Nicholas Millar seemed much taken with the Aborigines, and had them sitting with him on the deck while he tried to make himself understood with signs. With the Master’s permission, Millar then boarded one of the native canoes and went ashore with them on the near island in order to cut a length of timber to serve as a spar for the ketch. When Millar returned, McEwen ordered the Aborigines off and told Millar to get some rest, as he might be needed that night to get under way, but Millar made light of the request and remained on deck. McEwen then went below to get some sleep. Byerley, who complained of feeling unwell at this point, also went below, but he could hear the men on deck talking and heard Millar suggest to Henry Irving and Patrick Savage that they go ashore to gather oysters. For this purpose, Millar borrowed a knife from George Lowe, and Byerley saw Irving come down to get his double-barrel carbine. Soon after, he heard the canoes moving off, ‘the blacks making a peculiar noise, by a rolling in the throat as they started’. Byerley would later say that he thought the three men were being taken to the near shore, ‘when they would have been within our reach and protection’, and had no idea they were in fact crossing over a mile of water to Shaw Island. McEwen returned to the deck to see his crewman Nicholas Millar, his passenger Mr Henry Irving, and his other crewman, Patrick Savage, all making for Shaw Island in separate canoes, each paddled by an Aborigine. McEwen expressed his annoyance that the men had left the ship without his permission, and that Millar had disobeyed his order to turn in. He then returned to his bunk below, but he could not rest, and came on deck not long after, just in time to hear a shot fired on Shaw Island. He said to one 55

of his passengers, ‘There is war there, they are fighting ashore.’ Frederick Byerley later reported, ‘We watched for some moments, saw the rush and melee but indistinctly, and had to turn our attention to weighing the anchor.’ A Ngaro man had been left on board the Ellida, but on seeing the fighting he jumped overboard and swam away. For what came to pass that day on Shaw Island we must rely on the account given by the only surviving white man, Patrick Savage. According to the sworn statement he later gave to Lieutenant Walter Powell at Whitsunday Island, Savage went ashore in one of the canoes at about half past four in the afternoon: ‘When we reached the shore, the Blacks came down and invited us to the camp.’ Nicholas Millar wanted to go with them, but Henry Irving at first would not go, declaring, ‘The Blacks would certainly kill them.’ However, he was persuaded, and the three men went with the Aborigines to their camp, where sheets of bark were laid on the ground for them to sit upon. Savage said, ‘I did not sit down, or Mr Irving.’ After about five minutes at the camp, Irving insisted on going back to the canoes and returning to the Ellida. The three men returned to the beach with that intention, but the Aborigines would not come down to take them off in the canoes. Nicholas Millar made two trips up to the camp to fetch the Aborigines who had brought them across from the ketch, but to no avail. Henry Irving then said, ‘We had better go ourselves as we should be close to be murdered.’ He then tried to get off in one of the canoes but in attempting to launch the vessel he managed only to swamp it. He had placed his carbine in the canoe and now, fearing the charges were wet and would not fire if needed, he discharged one of the barrels and reloaded it. As soon as that shot rang out, the situation of the three white men became dire. Some 35 Ngaro men emerged from the camp, armed with their weapons, and advanced on them. Savage had asked Irving to give him the reloaded carbine but Millar got hold of it and on seeing the Aborigines approaching he fired at one of them. The man dropped and the rest started a rush. Savage seized the carbine from Millar and threatened to shoot again, making the Ngaro retreat. Millar and Irving had loaded revolvers, 56

but up to this point they had not used them. Savage then managed to launch a canoe and with some difficulty paddled away. He had not gone far out when he heard shots. ‘On looking around I saw Nicholas in the water surrounded by Blacks throwing boomerangs at him. Mr Irving was on the beach. The last I saw of him and Nicholas, they were both lying on the beach, the Blacks mutilating them fearfully.’ With the help of his two passengers, McEwen brought up the anchor, and the Ellida immediately got under way and bore down on the scene of the fighting. As they neared the shore, the master saw his crewman Patrick Savage paddling out. He was being chased by two Ngaro canoes, but on seeing the approach of the ketch, the pursuers turned back. The Ellida picked up Savage, whose canoe was so full of water as to be nearly swamped. He said that his companions had been killed and a glance towards the shore told Byerley that it was so: ‘We could see on the beach the natives hacking and mutilating the bodies.’ The ketch hauled up close enough to the shore for McEwen and his passengers to plainly see the inert forms of Irving and Millar lying on the beach. The Ngaro had stripped and left them moments before and were now retreating onto the heights of Shaw’s Peak. Byerley later told how he saw one body, thought to be Millar’s, with ‘a large bloody gash in the side round to the loins which made us surmise that he had been opened and his kidneys taken out as is usual amongst the savages. This of course is only a surmise.’ The two passengers volunteered to land and recover the bodies but the master considered it too dangerous to send them ashore in the ship’s small dingy with so many hostile natives nearby. He left the dead men where they lay and made sail for Fitzallan Point at Whitsunday Island, arriving there about ten o’clock that night. There, Lieutenant Powell of the Native Mounted Police came aboard the ketch and took their statements on the events of that day. The Ellida later resumed her voyage and reached Rockhampton on Saturday 14 September but it was another two weeks before a report of the tragedy, ‘gathered from T. McEwen’s own words’, appeared in the town’s Bulletin newspaper. A long article described how Nicholas Millar ‘had 57

made himself very busy frying pancakes’ for the Aborigines who visited the Ellida. This was put down to ‘sailor-like generosity’, but in his case the Greek tradition of philoxenia, or hospitality to visitors, might have played some part. It was suggested that Millar was ‘delighted with the blacks’ kindness’, and in going ashore in an Aboriginal canoe to cut a spar, he seemed to be ‘courting his fate’. However, on the three white men going to the Ngaro’s camp, Henry Irving’s suspicions were aroused when he saw there were no gins (women) present. According to the Bulletin’s article, this was ‘indicative, among Australian Aborigines, of intended mischief’. The newspaper went on to report that eventually, the Aborigines ‘threw off the mask’ and assumed ‘threatening attitudes with their nullah nullahs and boomerangs’. They were answered by Millar with a shot from the carbine, which brought down one of them, followed by frantic volleys from Irving and Millar’s revolvers that had no apparent effect. Millar’s Greek identity was noted by some newspapers. There were few Greeks in the Australian colonies at the time and the impression given of them in the press was sometimes coloured by the classics. Perhaps this was even more the case in Queensland where the Governor, Sir George Bowen, was a classics scholar and given to drawing parallels with ancient Greece when speaking or writing about the Colony. The Bulletin said, ‘The struggle was short. Millar, who was a native of Greece, fought with the spirit of his forefathers, and put several sable warriors hors de combat [out of action]’. The North Australian at Ipswich wrote, ‘the Greek, Millar, fought like a lion and overthrew several’. The Courier in Brisbane was content to note that ‘Nicholas Miller’ was ‘a Greek sailor’. It was also reported that Millar resided at Rockhampton and when the Ellida arrived there after its fateful voyage, ‘his wife came to the wharf to meet him, when the effect of the sad disappointment that awaited her can be more easily imagined than described’. A collection was made in the town and produced £35 10s. 6d. to meet the ‘present wants’ of Nicholas’s widow and child. Two weeks passed before Lieutenant Powell could get across from Whitsunday Island to Port Denison with the depositions left with him 58

by the men of the Ellida. He arrived there on board the Santa Barbara on the morning of 11 September with his Native Mounted Police troopers and a load of sawn hoop pine. George Dalrymple, the Commissioner of Crown Lands and Police Magistrate at Port Denison, demanded to know why Powell had not gone immediately to Shaw Island to recover the bodies of Irving and Millar and apprehend their murderers. Powell explained that the trade winds were blowing strong and there was no boat at Whitsunday Island that could safely get his men ashore at the scene of the murders. Dalrymple ordered Captain Sinclair of the Santa Barbara to quickly unload his cargo and prepare again for sea. Sinclair weighed anchor late that night and, with Dalrymple on board, and accompanied by the government’s five-oared boat, they sailed out. Progress was slow because of the light winds and it was two days before they reached Fitzallan Point. On landing, Dalrymple spoke immediately to Lieutenant Williams of the Native Mounted Police, who was now stationed there, and ordered him and his six troopers to be ready to sail with them before midnight. They got away in the early hours of 14 September and, passing through the Whitsunday Passage, sailed around the north of Pentecost Island to the Shaw Island group. There, Dalrymple commenced a search of ‘the whole shores of the islands minutely for about six miles, the Native Police keeping abreast of us along the shore’. After some hours, they entered the ‘fine harbour’ made by the almost encircling islands and, on being hailed by the black troopers, they landed on a smooth sandy beach. There, Dalrymple found the bodies of Henry Irving and Nicholas Millar in a kind of deathly embrace. They were ‘lying across the edge of the grassy bank of the beach, on their faces, side by side, touching each other, Mr Irving’s right arm beneath Mr Millar’s chest’. The bodies were naked and much discoloured from exposure to the sun and their advanced stage of decomposition. Dalrymple further noted: ‘The skulls of both were beaten flat, the bones of their faces also entirely destroyed. Numerous boomerang marks and spear holes appeared around the neck and ears. The backs and legs of both were gashed in a fearful manner and other parts of their persons treated with dishonour.’ 59

Not far from the bodies, Dalrymple found a canoe through which Henry Irving had apparently driven his foot while attempting to escape. Nearby were his boots, one of them slit with a knife, suggesting that the unfortunate man spent his last desperate moments trying to cut his boots from his feet so he could swim to safety. A careful search of the surrounds by the police revealed a leather revolver pouch and the butt of Irvine’s carbine which had been battered to pieces, but nothing more. The two revolvers carried by the men and the metal parts of the carbine, together with all their clothing, had been taken away. The bodies were in no condition to be moved and were buried where they lay, with Dalrymple reading from the Book of Common Prayer over the grave. Stone slabs were then placed at the head and foot and a large cairn of stones was built up along its length. Dalrymple wrote in his report to the Queensland Colonial Secretary, ‘it was some satisfaction to us to have succeeded in rescuing and bestowing Christian burials to the remains of our unfortunate countrymen who had been in so fearful a manner precipitated into eternity by treacherous and bloodthirsty savages’. While attending to the burials, Dalrymple and his party noticed six Ngaro canoes crossing the water and making a landfall beneath the towering form of Shaw’s Peak. The smoke from campfires could be seen rising from the spot. Determined to punish them, Dalrymple returned to the Santa Barbara and got under way that night for the place where the canoes had landed. But the winds were light and the tide was against them and it was daylight before they arrived at the spot. Dalrymple described the scene: Shaw’s Peak rose abruptly out of the water to the height of 1,500 feet a mass of rocks, boulders and scrubby bushes; a small flat surrounded by these heights, close by, was the site of the camp. As we approached about 30 to 40 Blackfellows all armed with bundles of spears and other weapons ran along the rocks yelling and gesticulating in the manner usual when hostility is intended. I immediately directed

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Lieutenant Williams to take charge of a landing party in the boat consisting of the whole Black Troopers, Captain Sinclair and myself and we accordingly landed under Lieutenant Williams Command and made a rush upon the camp which however was found to have been suddenly evacuated. The Ngaro had retreated up the precipitous slopes of Shaw’s Peak and were now high above Dalrymple and his party and out of range of their guns. The Aborigines stood defiantly on the heights, yelling and shaking their weapons. On searching the camp, Dalrymple found ‘unmistakable evidences’ that this was the group who murdered Irving and Millar. These consisted of ‘Mr Irving’s hat, pieces of cloth and revolver pouches, that gentleman’s belt pouch with a spear hole right through it, the locks of the carbine in process of conversion into knives &c., two sleeves of a Gurnsey shirt &c’. Dalrymple had also seen one of the Aborigines wearing a white shirt and was determined to ‘chastise them for their treachery and murder’. He and his party spent the rest of the day trying to force the Ngaro from the mountain or, at least, to get close enough to fire on them with effect. However, every advance up the slope by Dalrymple’s force was met by the Aborigines dislodging and rolling down large rocks upon them, and every attempt to get round their flanks saw them retreat, ‘with marvelous rapidity’, up the cliffs of the mountain. At last, Dalrymple gave up and decided that he must return to his ‘pressing public duties’ at Port Denison. He would ‘defer to a more favourable opportunity the justice which it is my firm determination shall follow so atrocious an outrage’. Before leaving the scene, he gathered up all the native canoes, fishing gear and utensils of the Ngaro and made a bonfire of everything in their camp. The sworn depositions taken by Lieutenant Powell only hours after the events left open the possibility that the deaths of Irving and Millar were the result of misunderstandings on both sides. However, Dalrymple believed they were murders, planned and carried out by the Ngaro with malice

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aforethought. He wrote to the Colonial Secretary: ‘The Aborigines whilst on the rocks above conversed with a Fitzroy blackfellow of our party who understands them. They acknowledged having committed the murders and said it was to get the knives and property of their victims’. When the Ellida returned to Port Denison on 10 October, Dalrymple ‘severely cross-examined’ McEwen, the master of the vessel, ‘with a view to extracting from him whether the unfortunate murdered men had in any way whatever acted so as to exasperate the Blacks’. His report to the Colonial Secretary expressed his view that the murders were ‘perfectly and entirely unprovoked by white men’, and that they were the result of a ‘sudden outburst of bloodthirsty fury (combined with a desire to become possessed of the property of their victims), by a large body of savages on finding only three white men completely in their power’. Dalrymple would have approved of the statements Savage and McEwen gave to Police Magistrate, John Jardine, when they reached Rockhampton. They told a somewhat different story to the one related earlier to Lieutenant Powell. Savage was now more inclined to attribute evil intent to the Aborigines, suggesting that as soon as they landed on Shaw Island they were made prisoners: ‘when we got to the island about 40 blacks came; two caught hold of me, two caught hold of Mr Irving and two caught hold of Mr Miller’. For his part, McEwen, conscious perhaps that his conduct as the Ellida’s master of was under scrutiny, put more of the blame for the tragedy on Nicholas Millar. It was Millar who insisted on going in a Ngaro canoe to the near island to cut a spar for the ketch: ‘I endeavoured to dissuade him’, the spar ‘was not wanted’, and ‘of no service’. With nothing to indicate his true Greek name or his origins in Greece, Nicholas Millar (or Miller), makes his exit from history with the tragic voyage of the Ellida. Apparently he left no property in Australia. Henry Irving left 495 square miles of unstocked sheep and cattle runs in Queensland’s Kennedy District to be auctioned by a creditor. There is little in the lives of the two men to presage their deathly embrace on the beach at Shaw Island. 62

CHAPTER 6

Timoleon Vlasto One afternoon in the spring of 1849, a young man described in the newspapers as fashionable in appearance and ‘wearing large mustouchios’ was brought before the Bow Street magistrates’ court in central London. The prisoner’s name was Timoleon Vlasto and he was charged with stealing a large number of ancient Greek and Roman coins from the British Museum. The value of the stolen coins, according to different reports, varied from £2,000 up to as much as £8,000. An assistant in the museum’s antiquities department, Mr Charles Newton, told the court that Vlasto had been introduced to him by a personal friend, Charles Fox, who was himself a collector of rare coins and the owner of an important private collection. As a major general of the Grenadier Guards, a former member of parliament, and the holder of various public offices, Charles Fox was a man of considerable social standing. With such patronage, Vlasto was given liberal access to the museum’s holdings. From the beginning of February, the enthusiastic young numismatist spent many hours studying the extensive coin collection housed in the museum’s medal room. One day, a label relating to a particular coin was found on the floor near the place where Vlasto was in the habit of sitting. It had been carefully folded, twice. A museum assistant noted the coin to which the label referred: it was a Greek silver coin of Rhegium in Magna Graecia, or what is now southern Italy. The assistant went to the place where the coin was normally displayed and found it was not there. For a

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while, no action was taken in deference to Vlasto’s social position and his connection with the eminent General Fox, but when it was discovered that more coins were missing, Charles Newton was directed by his superiors to go to the police. A search warrant was obtained, and an inspector of police, accompanied by two staff of the museum, went to Vlasto’s lodgings at no. 15, St James Square. The house proved to be an imposing mansion fronted with Greek column-like pilasters. Vlasto opened the door when they arrived but he would not let them in. When the search warrant was produced and explained to him, Vlasto allowed only the police inspector to enter. It was Vlasto’s misfortune that the officer he let in was none other than the indefatigable Charles Field, a man who had spent his life in law enforcement beginning with the predecessors of the police, the Bow Street Runners. Field rose to be chief of the detective branch, in which role he was noticed by the writer Charles Dickens, who studied his methods, and later used him as the model for ‘Inspector Bucket’ in the novel Bleak House. Field’s expert search of Vlasto’s rooms revealed, among other things, a hidden compartment in a desk. He found coins of many descriptions, including the missing Greek coin from Rhegium, the label of which had been found on the floor of the museum. More coins were found, together with their museum labels, and all of these items were produced to the court. Mr John Doubleday, a craftsman and restorer who worked in the museum’s antiquities department, was also a dealer in copies of coins, medals and ancient seals. He told the court that he had looked over all the coins found in Vlasto’s rooms and estimated their value at between £3,000 and £4,000. He was able to swear to the fact that a number of the coins belonged to the museum because he had earlier made casts of them, and these were still in his possession. On comparing the coins with his casts, he was able to identify some that corresponded exactly. Doubleday was well known for his casts of coins and other ancient artefacts. They allowed collectors of modest means to hold copies of famous coins and other collectibles. His copies were held in collections throughout Britain 64

and their exact likeness to the originals was sometimes a cause of confusion and, occasionally, dismay. Although Vlasto was described as being ‘imperfectly acquainted with the English language’, he refused the help of an interpreter and declared that he understood all that was being said against him. He said he could prove that most of the coins found in his rooms were not the property of the British Museum. Given the substantial value of the stolen property, and the accused’s status as a foreigner who could easily leave England, it is not surprising that he was refused bail and remanded for the further hearing. Timoleon Vlasto was returned to Newgate Prison, a granite pile next to the central criminal court. It had few windows and grim turn-keys moved its gates. Inside he would pass along passageways, stone steps, and gloomy courtyards to a ward reserved for felons of a more respectable class, but with little to distinguish it from the vile character of the place. At night he had a rug and a mat to sleep on. Newgate was the common gaol for London and Westminster. It was built in a plan of four squares, with a wall dividing the men from the women. It could hold 350 inmates, but when the courts were in session, as they were now, it might hold twice that number, with new prisoners constantly coming in and others going out. They were all transients, so there was no uniform and they wore their own clothes. At that time, only those waiting to be hanged were kept in cells and as no work was assigned to the prisoners, Timoleon Vlasto was left to drift amongst Newgate’s idle and fractious hordes. A week later the gentlemanly young man was brought again to Bow Street to be further examined. It was generally known by then that he was a Greek and thought to be ‘highly connected’ in Greece, and also in Vienna where he had been born and educated. One newspaper reported, with no great certainty, that the ‘prisoner’s father, the late Count Vlasto, was connected with the Turkish diplomatic corps about 23 years ago’. The committal hearing was held before magistrate David Jardine, with Vlasto represented by a barrister, Mr Clarkson. The prosecutor or complainant, Mr Newton of the British Museum, was represented by Mr 65

Warren, while General Charles Fox – who now complained that Vlasto had also stolen many coins from his personal collection – was represented by Mr Teasdale, a solicitor. According to one newspaper, ‘the court was crowded with persons of distinction’. The unusual nature of the crime had created a sensation, and a number of noblemen and gentlemen associated with the British Museum were sitting on the bench and taking a close interest in the proceedings. They included William Cole, an Anglo-Irish Peer; Sir Henry Ellis, who had served for years as the principal librarian at the Museum, and, in spite of his personal interest in the outcome, General Fox. Inspector Field of the police told the court that he was not then able to offer any more evidence than was presented at the earlier hearing as there had not been enough time to examine the whole of the Museum’s catalogue and the casts. He had also received recent information that other robberies had been committed by Vlasto – from the collection of General Fox, and from some institutions on the Continent. He therefore sought the prisoner’s remand for a further period of a week to 10 days in order to complete the investigation. Vlasto’s barrister, Mr Clarkson, at this point informed the court that he was instructed by ‘the prisoner’s friends’, who were described in a newspaper as ‘some Greek gentlemen’. Clarkson stated that they had asked him to appear for the prisoner ‘for the purpose of inducing the magistrate to admit him to bail’ while he waited for his further hearings. Clarkson told the court that although he could not deny the seriousness of the charges against Vlasto, he thought he should either be committed to trial immediately or allowed bail. The magistrate, however, took the view that the charges against the prisoner were of ‘such a grave character’, and the property in question of ‘such immense value’, that he could not accede to bail being granted and, after some further argument, he ordered that the prisoner be remanded to the following Tuesday. A meeting of the British Museum’s board of directors attended by Sir Robert Peel, the former Prime Minister, had decided to appoint a subcommittee to determine the exact losses sustained and report to the 66

board. This was probably the meeting referred to by historian Thomas Macaulay, another of the Museum trustees, when he wrote in his diary on 4 April 1849, ‘In the morning I had to go to the museum about a case of theft – an opulent Greek merchant who has been pilfering, not for lucre, but from a passion for art and antiquity’. Macaulay went on to note, ‘Peel was there, Goulburn, Mahon, the Archbishop [of Canterbury] in the Chair. I was strongly for severity; and the majority agree with me.’ At the next hearing at Bow Street, there was apparently some testing of the evidence of John Doubleday, who swore positively that two coins produced to the court had been stolen from the collection of the Museum. A newspaper reported: ‘He could not be mistaken about them, for he had taken, previously to the theft, a cast of each of them in a sulphur mould, which was of the most perfect kind that could be made, and gave the minutest flaw and peculiarity of the original with great exactness. He could therefore swear without any doubt as to the identity of these two coins’. The revelation by Inspector Field that he had found these two coins ‘concealed in a secret drawer in the prisoner’s writing desk’ was another damning piece of evidence. The Inspector also produced 71 valuable coins he had found at Vlasto’s lodgings and which General Fox identified as having been stolen from his cabinet, to which Vlasto had been given access. Perhaps influenced by Vlasto’s friends, Charles Fox felt the need to utter a few words in the prisoner’s favour, and ‘took occasion to say that he had been informed by persons of the highest respectability that not only was the prisoner’s family highly connected, but his own conduct had been irreproachable up to the time when these charges arose’. Magistrate Jardine replied that such testimony might be of some service to the prisoner elsewhere, but could not avail him at present, and remanded Vlasto once more. Eventually, Timoleon Vlasto’s case reached the central criminal court, or Old Bailey, where he was indicted for ‘theft from a dwelling house’ of 266 coins, valued at £500, the property of the trustees of the British Museum. After the indictment was read, Vlasto pleaded guilty. A further indictment of stealing 71 coins from General Fox’s cabinet, valued at £150, 67

was then read and he pleaded guilty to that charge also. It is interesting to note that the value of the stolen coins given in the indictments was far less than estimated earlier in the proceedings. Vlasto’s lawyer, Mr Clarkson, then applied to the court to defer the passing of sentence and allow him to call witnesses who would give evidence as to Timoleon Vlasto’s highly respectable position in society, and to show that ‘he had not possessed himself of the coins for the purpose of either selling or raising money on them’. His stealing was, according to Clarkson, the act of ‘a monomaniac’, and had arisen out of the prisoner’s passion for collecting coins. Presiding at the trial was the Common Serjeant, John Mirehouse, the second most senior judge of the court. His response to Clarkson was that the court had ‘but one duty to perform, and although the prisoner was a young man of good family he must be dealt with by the court as all others were’. However, the Common Serjeant then engaged in some conversation with Sir Henry Ellis and General Fox, who were on the bench, and afterwards announced that he would postpone passing sentence until another day. Given General Fox’s previous intervention on Vlasto’s behalf in the proceedings at Bow Street, it seems that he was continuing to urge a more lenient sentence than the circumstances seemed to portend. He had even gone to the trouble of writing to a friend at Vienna seeking information about Vlasto and his family. Fox may have been influenced behind the scenes by the group of Greek gentlemen who were taking a close interest in Vlasto’s case, but it is also possible that he felt genuine sympathy for the young man, who was in a sense his protégé. Like Timoleon Vlasto, Charles Fox had begun collecting coins early in life. His interest began with a journey to Greece and Asia Minor when he was in his twenties. There, he had purchased ancient coins from peasants, and dug them out of the silt in dry watercourses. He would eventually accumulate some 11,500 ancient Greek coins of which 330 were gold and more than 4,000 silver. He was a man who could understand the ‘monomaniac’ passion for coin collecting ascribed to Vlasto. But whatever might have been said or done by General Fox, it all seemed to come to nought when, on 7 May 1849, Timoleon 68

Vlasto was brought up to the dock again and sentenced to transportation for seven years. Vlasto must have greeted the punishment meted out to him at the Old Bailey with a mixture of dread and resignation, but the group of Greek gentlemen following his trial might have accepted it with more equanimity. The main constraint in a sentence of transportation was not confinement, but distance, and even a place as distant from Europe as Van Diemen’s Land was not beyond their reach. Vlasto went back to Newgate Gaol but after three weeks he was moved from there to Pentonville Prison in the Barnsbury area of North London. This was a new prison and unlike Newgate it was specially designed to impose the separate system where prisoners were isolated in cells for most of the day, and made to work at tasks such as shoemaking, weaving and sewing prison wear. The separation was carried to an extreme: when out of their cells, prisoners had to wear masks of brown cloth and remain utterly silent; they were addressed by the guards not by name but by their prison number; in the chapel they sat in cubicles that gave a view to the front, but not to the side, so as to prevent contact with other inmates. The aim of the separate system was to reform criminals, but for many the result was mental derangement. Twenty-three hours a day alone in his cell would have given Timoleon plenty of time to think. He must have cursed that moment in the British Museum when he pocketed the Greek silver coin from Rhegium in Magna Graecia and carelessly dropped its label on the floor. He must have thought of his parents and the hopes they had placed in him. He carried the name of an ancient Greek hero: Timoleon, who vanquished the tyrant Dionysius II of Syracuse; Timoleon, the general who defeated an army of Carthage; Timoleon, the statesman who gave political freedom and prosperity to the city-states of Sicily; Timoleon, the Tyrant-slayer! Vlasto spent 14 months in Pentonville before being moved to a new prison on the Isle of Portland, just off the Dorset coast. There he spent his days breaking and carrying stone to build the breakwater for a new harbour. 69

He petitioned the Crown to commute his sentence but, in September 1850, word came from Crowder and Maynard, his solicitors, that the Home Secretary, Sir George Grey, had refused his plea. Now that he was a convict, Timoleon Vlasto warranted a detailed description: his age was 24; his height five feet, six inches, his weight ten stone eleven pounds, his complexion dark, his head long, hair black, whiskers none, visage long, forehead medium, eyebrows black, eyes hazel, nose long and Roman, mouth large, chin medium and body without distinctive marks; he was single and his next of kin was ‘Paul Vlasto, dead’; he could both read and write, and his trade or occupation would be variously noted as ‘none’, ‘labourer’, and finally ‘clerk’; his character at Newgate was judged to be ‘good’, as was his conduct at Pentonville; his faith was Greek Church, and his native place was Vienna. Timoleon Vlasto was the son of Pandely Vlasto of Vienna, who had settled in that city in the spring of 1822 after the Ottoman Turks devastated his ancestral island of Chios. In April 1823, Pandely was mentioned in a letter published in the London press soliciting donations to assist the Chian refugees at Trieste and Ancona. The Emperor of Austria had granted these refugees asylum, but many were in dire need; they were forced to shelter ‘in the roofs of houses ashamed to go abroad and perishing for want of clothing, and scarcely satisfying the cravings of hunger with the coarsest bread’. The letter nominated Pandely Vlasto at Vienna as the person to whom donations should be sent. His uncle, John Vlasto, was in Trieste at this time and corresponding with William Allen of Britain’s Greek Committee. The Vlastos were an old family accustomed to privilege and power. Some of its branches took part in the Byzantine reconquest of Crete from the Arabs in the 10th century and settled there as feudal rulers and landlords. When the Ottomans conquered the great island in the 17th century, the Vlastos scattered across the eastern Mediterranean. Some chose to settle on the Aegean island of Chios, even though it was under Ottoman rule, as it offered some advantages: the Turkish garrison was small and unobtrusive, 70

and the governing of the island and gathering of taxes was left to the Greeks. A further advantage was the island’s past association with Genoa. The Genoese were more interested in profit than empire building and during their 300 years’ residence at Chios they developed a great commerce in mastic, alum, salt and pitch. By the 19th century, the island’s Greek population had added to this a burgeoning trade in grain, wine, oil, silk and other goods. When the Vlastos went to Chios they established their townhouses in a part of the capital that came to be known as Vlastoudika. They also took up estates in the countryside to the south of the town, known as the Kampos. Here, the family’s coat of arms was to be seen adorning the arched gateways to their houses: a two-headed Byzantine eagle with three budding branches, over which appeared the Greek word Vlastano meaning burgeoning or sprouting. Their neighbours in the Kampos were equally imposing Greek families attracted by the island’s facility in shipping and long-distance trade. Among them were the Rallis, Argentis, Rodochanachis, Schilizzis and Mavrochordatos. With an eye at first to defence, they built fortified tower houses, or pyrghi, but later they allowed themselves fine collonaded homes echoing the island’s Ancient Greek, Roman, Byzantine and Genoese past. Their houses were set amongst orchards, vines and gardens, and surrounded by fields ablaze with wild tulips in spring. In time, the merchant families of Chios, through marriages and business partnerships made almost exclusively amongst themselves, formed extensive clans. The members of the clans lived according to accepted rules and practices that engendered trust and mutual understanding, and ensured harmony in their social and business relations. Clan relationships gave the Chian merchants a level of efficiency that few of their competitors could match. Security was another advantage, as clan members were under an obligation to assist other members in distress. In the early years of the 19th century, during the Napoleonic Wars, the merchant clans of Chios grew rich shipping grain from Crimean ports to Europe, and bringing back manufactures for sale in Constantinople and 71

other ports of the near east. The Greek Revolution in 1821 brought this era to an end. The Chians did not immediately join in the Greek nationalists’ struggle as their island’s close proximity to the Turkish mainland made it too dangerous. However, the war was forced upon them in 1822 when an armed force of several hundred Greeks came across from the nearby island of Samos and led an attack on the Turkish garrison in the capital. The consequences were worse than the inhabitants could have imagined. Large Ottoman forces and thousands of Turkish irregulars crossed over to Chios and commenced burning towns and killing or enslaving the people. In a matter of months, the population of 120,000 was reduced to a few thousand, with most either dead or enslaved, and some 20,000 made refugees. The attack on Chios moved the French artist Delacroix to produce a famous painting expressing some of the outrage felt in Europe at the time, and Victor Hugo wrote a poem that opened with the lines: ‘The Turks were here / Ruin. Grief. / Chios, island of vines, / now a charred reef.’ Many of the merchants of Chios were able to get away with their ships and money. They already had family members in numerous foreign ports acting as their business agents, and these places became their new domiciles. They included the island of Syros in the Aegean, Odessa on the Black Sea, Alexandria in Egypt, and European ports such as Trieste, Livorno, Marseille, London and Liverpool. This scattering of the grandee families of Chios led to their emergence later in the 19th century as a rich and influential diaspora, with Ralli Brothers in London growing into a worldwide merchant shipping concern. Timoleon Vlasto had every expectation that he would share in this success, but now it seemed lost to him. Vlasto’s sentence for his crime of larceny from a dwelling house was not harsh compared with others handed down at the Old Bailey at that time. He had stolen property worth £650. On the same day, James Chitty and George Jones, both in their twenties, were sentenced to 10 years’ transportation for stealing three watches worth £18; a few days later, George Douglas, in his early thirties, was sentenced to seven years for stealing one box, two 72

syringes, and 27 scent-bottles worth £15; and the following month, William Smith, in his early twenties, was given seven years for stealing 46 yards of silk worth just £6. If they had come before the court a few decades earlier, all of them could have been sentenced to hang. After nearly two years awaiting transportation, Timoleon Vlasto was at last sent to Portsmouth to board the Lady Kennaway. She was a large vessel of 584 tons, a three-masted, square-rigged barque built of teak and iron bolted; she carried several guns and sported a long bowsprit and a figurehead. The Lady was also ageing, having been built in Calcutta in 1817, and this would be her sixth voyage to the Australian colonies. Not many years after, she would lie wrecked on an African shore. The Lady Kennaway sailed on 5 February 1851 under Master James Santry, with Joseph Caldwell as Surgeon-Superintendent. There were 250 male convicts on board, together with, as passengers, Mr W. Irwin, a ‘religious instructor’, and Mrs Fahey and three children. A serjeantmajor and 29 pensioned soldiers provided the ship’s guard, and they were accompanied by 21 women and 46 children. During the voyage there were three births, and one convict and three of the children died. On 27 May 1851, after a journey of 112 days, the Lady Kennaway sailed into the Derwent estuary and dropped anchor at Hobart Town beneath the imperious gaze of Mount Wellington. The following day, another barque named Black Friar came in with 260 female convicts from Ireland. Not many years before, the convict population in Van Diemen’s Land had reached 30,000 and one person in three in the Colony was a felon. Local feeling against the whole system of transportation was running high. The Courier newspaper made clear that these further transports were not welcome: ‘The arrival of two more Convict Ships in our harbour exhibits the character of the Minister who rules the Colonies in the name of our Queen. Utterly regardless of the honour of the Crown, and the welfare of the Australias, he continues to carry out a system which he himself a few years since described as a disgrace to the British flag’. Another journal, the Britannia and Trades’ Advocate, expressed its disapproval in more definite terms: 73

Earl Grey with a spirit of pitiless despotism, continues to pour into this doomed Colony ship-loads of convicts, and wantonly shuts his ears against all complaints from a deeply injured people. … There is no doubt that this fatal policy, fatal alike to Great Britain and the Australian Colonies, will be haughtily persisted in until the injured colonists, goaded to desperation by such acts of wanton oppression, will exclaim with one voice – stand to your arms! and the example of the United States of America will be followed at the Antipodes. Sections of the press fanned the anti-transportation fires by claiming that the passage of the Lady Kennaway had been especially brutal. The Colonial Times complained of the ship’s ‘disgusting’ system of corporal punishment: ‘Rumour says, that even the chief officers have been obliged to act as flagellators, and that the Surgeon-Superintendent has insisted during the voyage on both the mates inflicting the corporal punishments awarded by him; the one using the wand of torture with his right, the other with his left hand’. It was said that for trivial crimes, prisoners had been ‘quadruply ironed’ for a month at a time, and in all weathers. There was probably some truth in these reports, as the convicts aboard the Lady Kennaway included a group of recalcitrants destined for the prison at Norfolk Island: ‘a draft of the most degraded ruffians that ever left the shores of our mother country’. However, the Hobarton Guardian, defended the ship’s officers: ‘had not the Surgeon Superintendent, Dr Caldwell, acted in the energetic and decided manner he did, supported as he was by Captain Santry and his officers, the most dreadful and disastrous consequences would have ensued. For it so happened, that amongst the prisoners, were some most desperate and dangerous characters, who would have excited the others to mutiny and murder’. The demand for the labour of the newly arrived convicts was also questioned. One newspaper reported that there was little interest in the 74

150 men from the Lady Kennaway fit to be assigned as servants; another countered this, suggesting that but for the incorrigibles bound for Norfolk Island, ‘a better conducted set of men never arrived in our harbour’, and that more applications had been made for their services than could be met. Timoleon Vlasto was counted among the better conducted set of men. On landing at Hobart he was marched to the prison barracks. There, prisoners were brought before a board headed by the Superintendent to be questioned about their work and have their trade or occupation determined. They would also be stripped to the waist and examined for identifying marks to be noted in their description. Timoleon’s trade was noted as clerk and he was found to have no obvious identifying marks. It was also noted that although his place of birth was Vienna, his family were now living in Trieste and comprised his father ‘Powell’ (Pandely or Panteleon) – although long since dead – his mother, Mary, and two brothers named Alexander and Stephen. After a week in the barracks, Vlasto emerged as convict no. 24,285. He could hope for a Ticket of Leave – conditional freedom – after 18 months of assigned service. He would not have to face a term working on the roads in a probationary labour gang, as the cost of maintaining that system, and the pressure from private employers wanting access to cheap convict labour, had caused it to be abandoned. Vlasto’s first assignment was to the service of Joseph Caldwell, the Surgeon-Superintendent of the Lady Kennaway, who must have found his clerical skills useful during the voyage out from England and for a time after the landing. This service ended after 10 days, when Caldwell sailed with the Lady Kennaway for Norfolk Island. Vlasto was then assigned to the service of a Mr J. Ray of Bathurst Street, but Mr Ray must have found him unsuitable as that engagement lasted only two days. Vlasto was returned to the barracks and on the same day he was assigned to the service of R. Propsting, a Hobart merchant. Six years earlier, in the winter of 1845, Richard Propsting had announced in the Hobart press his recent arrival from England and his commencement in business as a hairdresser and perfumer in Elizabeth 75

Street. By 1848, his services extended to the fashioning of wigs – or perukes as they were termed – which he could supply made to order ‘in the first style for fashion and workmanship at a price of £1 and upwards’. He also offered an assortment of perfumery, oils, soap, brushes and the like. He had Eau de Cologne from 6d. a bottle, and Lavender Water and Rowlands’ Macassar Oil at the same price. He offered, too, new and splendid perfumes such as Le Calice de Fleurs, as well as, ‘Ladies’ Fillets, Braids, Fronts, Watch guards, Bracelets, &c’. Propsting also advertised a service unusual for a hairdresser, namely the preserving and stuffing, ‘with neatness and expedition’, of birds, animals, reptiles and fish skins. This reflected his interest in nature, and particularly wildlife. He was a member of the Royal Society of Van Diemen’s Land and occasionally presented specimens to the society’s museum. These he collected during his expeditions into the bush accompanied by a kangaroo dog. In 1850 he gave the society a fine stuffed specimen of the Australian goshawk. In the same year, he helped the society’s experiments with snakebite antidotes by supplying a live black snake, about four feet six inches long. In 1851, he presented a stuffed specimen of the tui-bird of New Zealand and in a later year, the skin of a diving petrel. Richard Propsting’s early business and personal interests might give the impression of an amiable and easygoing man, but the role he took up in his later years, as Superintendent of Police in Hobart, suggests otherwise. He had already shown that he would not abide theft when a man named William B. Gould stole a pair of razors from his shop valued at 2s. 6d. Propsting ensured that Gould was prosecuted and in due course sentenced to two years’ imprisonment with hard labour. The Propstings were a large and respectable family but, like many others in Hobart, they owed much to the convict system. Their origins in Van Diemen’s Land went back 20 years. In England, they hailed from Hertfordshire, where Richard Propsting’s older brother Henry stole two tame geese in 1831. Henry Propsting was convicted of theft and sentenced to transportation, arriving at Hobart on the Argyle at the age of 21. Not 76

long after he had sufficient freedom and the means to go into business on his own account. He set up as a butcher and won contracts with the government, at first providing meat for convict road gangs and later, with a business partner, supplying the Port Arthur prison and other convict settlements. Henry Propsting did so well that his younger brothers Richard, James and George were drawn to make the long voyage to Van Diemen’s Land as free immigrants. These strong and well-built sons of a German father – Ferdinand von Probstein – and an English mother, did well in the Colony. One of Henry Propsting’s many sons became a barrister and a politician, and eventually rose to the office of Premier and Treasurer of Tasmania. Timoleon Vlasto was assigned to the service of Richard Propsting on 18 June 1851, and it is possible the two men felt some affinity. Unlike the general run of convicts, Timoleon was an educated man with bookish interests. Intellect was not especially wanted in a convict, and men of that kind were likely to be viewed as potential troublemakers and consigned to the prison at Port Arthur. But the young foreigner must have seemed harmless enough and, as his barrister contended in the Old Bailey back in London, he had been led astray by monomania and was not a thief by nature. Richard Propsting had some education and his own intellectual pursuits; and through his brother Henry he was close enough to the convict experience to not despise all who were tainted by it. There would have been plenty of work for Timoleon to do in Richard Propsting’s establishment: keeping accounts, running errands, attending to the mails, organising stock and perhaps even assisting his master in the fashioning of perukes, or in his work of preserving animal specimens. Serving customers may have occupied part of Timoleon’s time, and some of those who came through the door must have been young women of the town, given the shop’s offering of oils, soaps and brushes, eau de cologne, lavender water and fine perfumes, not to mention bracelets and the like. Timoleon Vlasto would have seemed an interesting young man with his lean physique, black hair and hazel eyes. He may have impressed 77

some of the young ladies, among them, perhaps, a Miss Sanders, the second daughter of James Sanders Esq., of Hobart Town. When he landed at Hobart in late May 1851, Timoleon Vlasto found life there already disturbed by the discovery of gold on the mainland. As the months passed, the disruption to the social order increased as news arrived of more finds, culminating in fabulous discoveries at Mount Alexander, Ballarat and Bendigo. In many places, alluvial gold was found just under the surface, and a fortunate man equipped with a tin dish and a shovel could earn in a week his usual wage for an entire year: … the gold lies in pockets in the blue slatey clay, and may be picked out with a knife point – so rich indeed is it, that many have abandoned cradle workings for tin dishes, which have yielded from two to three ounces in one washing. Many will make fortunes, hundreds a competency, and the first majority will do well. Nature has spread out a vast magazine of riches for the enterprise of Geelong to stretch forth her hand and take it; and strong and earnestly have her sons set about the pleasant task. By October, the situation was getting out of hand, the Tasmanian Colonist declaring: ‘The recent discovery of immense quantities of gold at the Ballarat diggings, has caused an almost unparalleled state of excitement in the minds of this community. All are willing to believe the statements, and are hastily preparing to start for the El Dorado. Almost every young man you meet, informs you he is for the “diggings’’ .’ A few days later the newspaper reported, ‘Each day we feel more sensibly the diminution of the labour market; … Nearly one thousand persons have left this Colony during the last few days, for Port Phillip.’ Among those departing for the goldfields were sailors who left their ships to languish in port without crew, shepherds and farm workers, shop assistants, and no less than three Propsting sons who sailed for Melbourne with the Circassian schooner on 15 October 78

1851. Public servants, even policemen, were resigning their posts to join the exodus, leaving the government without men to do its bidding. Absconding convicts were also among those leaving for the goldfields, as noted by the Cornwall Chronicle: ‘The practice of absconding is now becoming very frequent amongst the prisoners of the crown, in consequence of the rush made to the gold regions, and the hope of the prisoners of escaping to Port Phillip to join the crowds at the mines. The police are very vigilant, but their numbers are too small.’ For the Launceston Examiner, however, it was good riddance: most privileged to leave are disposed to depart for a season, and all not legally entitled to forsake the land of their exile are inclined to bid adieu to Tasmania forever. Every vessel that quits our shores carries away numbers of the latter class; and their clandestine but real emancipation is not regarded with regret by the free inhabitants. After four months of service with Richard Propsting, Timoleon Vlasto joined the ranks of the absconders. In the Hobart Town Gazette on 21 October 1851, the Convict Department reported his failure to attend at his place of employment. The notice said: ‘Absconders – From the service of Mr Propsting, Elizabeth-street, on the 12th instant. 24,285 Timoleon Vlasto, … Reward £2, or such lesser sum as may be determined by the convicting Magistrate’. But convict no. 24,285 would not be seen in Van Diemen’s Land again and no magistrate would be concerned with him or the £2 reward offered for his arrest. In a few years, Van Diemen’s Land would end its role as a place of banishment. It would hope to leave behind its reputation as a ‘paradise of thieves’ by adopting the new name of ‘Tasmania’. But Timoleon Vlasto was interested only in getting away from the place. He must have left in a boat of some description, but no more is known about his escape. Perhaps those Greek gentlemen who took an interest in his trials at Bow Street and the Old 79

Bailey had reached across the oceans to him at last. The Vlasto family and their allies had the means to do this, and in the eight months since he left Portsmouth there had been time to make arrangements, to communicate them through an intermediary in Hobart, and to provide him with money. But other convicts had got across to the mainland without such help. The ranks of the police were thin, as many officers had resigned and gone to the diggings; those remaining were too busy to concern themselves with convict absconders. Timoleon Vlasto only needed a friend who would give him the 20 shillings fare to cross Bass Strait, and perhaps 20 shillings more to keep body and soul together for a fortnight – £2 to buy his freedom. It seems he found this friend, and more. Sixteen months later, in February 1853, a notice appeared in the Empire newspaper in Sydney of Timoleon’s marriage to ‘Eliza, second daughter of James Sanders, Esq., of Hobart Town’. He must have wanted the good people of Van Dieman’s land to rejoice in the happy news as, about a month later, the same notice appeared in three Hobart newspapers: the Courier, the Tasmanian Colonist, and the Colonial Times; for good measure it was also published at Launceston, in the Examiner. The church record provides some further details of this extraordinary event: the ceremony took place on 29 January 1853 at Christ Church in George Street, Sydney, now Christ Church St Lawrence, and the service was conducted by the Reverend William Horatio Walsh. It was a marriage by licence and therefore more costly than a marriage by banns, which was the general practice of the day, but not unusual for couples who were strangers to the parish; it was not a marriage by ‘special licence’ as stated in the newspapers, and which would have required the permission of the Anglican Archbishop. The witnesses were Philip D. Vigors, Clara Bener and Ellen Aaron, each of whom gave their place of residence as Sydney. Another interesting detail was that Vlasto had taken Thomas as his first name, relegating Timoleon to a middle name. But who was Eliza Sanders? Who were Philip D. Vigors, Clara Bener and Ellen Aaron? The only one among them whose identity can be 80

determined with much certainty is Vigors, a sketcher, diarist and collector of botanical specimens and artefacts. He purchased a commission as an ensign in the 11th Regiment of Foot when he was in Adelaide in 1846, and in 1853 he was in Sydney, stationed at the penal establishment on Cockatoo Island. How he came to be a witness at Timoleon Vlasto’s wedding can only be guessed at, but he and Timoleon were close in age and it is easy to imagine them drinking together. Nothing is known of Clara Bener, but she might have been a woman of a similar class to her co-witness Ellen, assuming her to be the same Ellen Aaron who some years earlier was brought before the police court and fined £5 for an act of indecency with one Leonard Grain. The identity of Eliza Sanders is a mystery that might one day be solved, but one likes to think she was a genuine bride and that the wedding was not entirely a sham. After this, Timoleon Vlasto vanishes so completely that he must have assumed a new identity. By the time his wedding notice reached Hobart, he could have been a month at sea and well on his way to Trieste or Marseille or Athens or Syros, or some other port where there were Vlastos, Rallis, Argentis, Schilizzis or other families of the Chian diaspora ready to aid his return to society. Timoleon was not the last Vlasto to collect ancient coins. In Athens, in 1874, a Panteleon Pandely Vlasto and his wife Penelope Capari had a son they named Mihail. The boy completed his education in France and, known as ‘Michel’, began a career with Ralli Brothers, at first in Liverpool and later in Houston and Marseilles. During his life, Michel Pandely Vlasto assembled a collection of the coins of Taras in Magna Graecia that had no equal.

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CHAPTER 7

Eugenios Genatas A ‘splendid new steamship’, the Jeddo, arrived at Hobson’s Bay, Melbourne, on the morning of 12 August 1860 bringing London papers with reports of the success of Garibaldi in Italy. The news was well received in Victoria. The Age opined: ‘The days of the Bourbon dynasty are numbered, and the Neapolitan sovereign has lived to see his cause hopeless and sympathy refused him from all the leading powers of Europe.’ The new single-screw iron steamer of 1,632 tons also brought a number of passengers, among them a young man of some 28 years named Eugenios Genatas, a native of Corfu in the Ionian Islands. In his journey to Australia, Genatas would have taken the overland route, which for him probably began in the Greek port of Patras with a voyage across the Mediterranean to Alexandria; from there it had become possible in recent years to travel in some comfort and speed by rail not only to Cairo, but also across the 80 miles of desert to the port of Suez on the Red Sea, where the Peninsular and Orient Company operated a regular steamer service to the East. On reaching Bombay, Genatas joined the Jeddo when she sailed in the middle of July on her first voyage to the Australian colonies via Galle in Ceylon and King George’s Sound. Eugenios Genatas’ ultimate destination was not Melbourne, which he left after 11 days, taking the coastal steamer Wonga Wonga north; nor was it Sydney, where he stayed only four days before boarding the Yarra Yarra and continuing north to Moreton Bay. There he boarded one of the

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smaller steamboats – the Breadalbane or perhaps the Bremer – for the last miles of his journey up the river to the capital of the new Crown Colony of Queensland. Brisbane in September 1860 was a quiet town of 7,000 people with 14 churches and 13 public houses set amongst the giant leaves of banana trees and the luxuriant foliage of Australia’s near-tropics. Some buildings, although adapted for new uses, reflected its past as a penal establishment. Among them were the commandant’s house, the commissariat stores, barracks for soldiers, prison cells, the female factory, a windmill and a hospital. The first Governor of Queensland, Sir George Bowen, had appeared there only 10 months before. He had arrived with his young wife Diamantina Roma, a native of Zante and daughter of the Ionian aristocracy, to be met by a yacht named Lady Bowen flying the Greek flag, and the cheers of 4,000 people lining the riverbank. George Bowen was now busy laying the foundations of the new colony: for his legislators there would soon be an assembly building and for himself and Diamantina a new government house overlooking the river. What Genatas did when he got to Brisbane is not known, but he would have certainly called on the Governor who knew him as the scion of a ‘noble family at Corfu’. About a month after his arrival, a new system of cadetships was introduced in the Native Mounted Police. The news was reported in the Moreton Bay Courier: ‘We believe the government have determined to introduce the system of cadets, so far as the native police are concerned – the object being to encourage emulation with small salaries irrespective of commissions, and thereby to increase the efficiency of the corps. We do not pretend to be learned in these matters, but it seems to us that the arrangement proposed can scarcely prove otherwise than successful.’ Not only had the new cadet system been inaugurated, a suitable appointee had been found in Eugenios Genatas. George Bowen would later say that Genatas had not distinguished himself in Corfu ‘for his attachment to the British Protectorate’, but the Governor seems not to 83

have held it against him. On 8 October Bowen laid before the Executive Council two letters from Edric Morisset, the Commandant of the Native Mounted Police, ‘one recommending Mr Eugenius G. Genatas for an appointment as Cadet in the force, the other requesting that, should that gentleman be appointed he may be permitted to draw pay and allowances for three months in advance’. Naturally, both recommendations were accepted and Genatas’s appointment took effect that day, his salary being fixed at £100 per annum. To George Bowen and Eugenios Genatas this transaction would not have seemed unusual as both were familiar with the ways of the Ionian Islands. In that protectorate, Britishers ran the civil service, and educated young Ionians of good family, with limited opportunities for employment, were always petitioning government officials for a remunerated position of one sort or another. In Queensland, things might have been seen differently, but the appointment escaped adverse comment in the press, which is surprising given the criticism evoked by an earlier appointment of a ‘foreigner’ to the Native Mounted Police. Strangely, the criticism was expressed in terms that seemed almost tailor-made for the appointment of Eugenios Genatas. A correspondent to the Courier, signing himself as ‘Mentor’, picked out of a list of government appointments published in January 1860 ‘some strange name as second lieutenant of the Native Police [who] may have dropped from the clouds, or he may belong to Ithaca, and be one of those small currants which John Bull is so fond of in cakes and puddings. Please inquire for me if the second-lieutenant, with the strange name, is of the Homeric school, or where he comes from.’ ‘Mentor’ ventured that the selection might ‘arise from classical taste. If so, shades of Pluto protect us, or we must soon appoint an Argus and a Cerberus to watch over the appointments.’ In responding to Mentor’s letter, Edric Morisset gave an assurance in respect of that earlier appointee – whose name was Alexey Frotoff Matoeieff – that he would have been unable to provide for Genatas: Matoeieff was, Morisset said, ‘entirely unknown to the Governor, and to 84

1. Native Mounted Police at Rockhampton in the 1860s. It has been suggested that the officer standing second from right is Eugenios Genatas, but this has since been questioned (see note on p. 255). Left

2. Letter of resignation from Second Lieut. Genatas to Commandant of the Qld Native Mounted Police, John O’Connell Bligh, 18 May, 1862.

3. The Chusan Hotel (at centre), renamed ‘Lamb’s Hotel’ after the licence passed from Andreas Lagogiannis to John Lamb in March 1872.

Above Left

4. File note by public servant ‘J.D.W.’ ridiculing the application by Dr. Spiridion Candiottis for appointment as Coroner at Inglewood Victoria. Above Right

5. Letter from Dr Spiridion Candiottis applying for appointment as Coroner at Redbank Victoria.

6. The hospital at Clermont Queensland in 1876 when Dr Spiridion Candiottis was medical officer.

Above

7. ‘Greek George’, wrestler and strong man, 1894. Right

8. The Australian Star’s tribute to the Greeks during their war against the Turks in 1897.

Above Left

9. Greece’s defeat in 1897 as drawn by cartoonist Garnet Warren in The Queenslander. Above Right

10. ‘When Greek Meets Greek’ – Melbourne Punch compares the classical Greek with the modern Greek of 1898 armoured with kitchen utensils.

11, 12. Aghia Triada, the first Greek Orthodox Church in Australia, erected at Surry Hills in Sydney in 1899, and the Rev. Seraphim Phocas, the first priest to serve there.

the Executive Council, who merely adopted my recommendation as head of the department.’ Eugenios Genatas’ family origins could be traced back to the days of the Eastern Roman Empire when his ancestors lived on the island of Proikonisos in the Sea of Marmara some 80 miles west of Constantinople. They took their name from a church in the island’s capital dedicated to Agios Nicholas Gennas, or Saint Nicholas of the Birth. As the largest island in the Sea of Marmara, lying on the northern approaches to the Dardanelles, Proikonisos was favoured by Emperor Constantine’s elite, and later by Justinian, who built a palace there and had the island’s fine marble quarried for the construction of his great church of Aghia Sophia at Constantinople. In time the island acquired the name of Prinkipo and later it became known as Marmara. With the Ottoman invasion threatening Constantinople, the Gennatas family left their island some time before the fall of the city in 1453. They settled in Coron in the Peloponnesus, a fortified port at the southwestern tip of the Greek peninsula and an important station in Venice’s maritime trade route to the Levant. The family made their life there for a couple of generations until in 1498 Coron and the nearby Venetian possession of Modon fell to the Turks. The Gennatas family took refuge at Kefalonia, the largest of the Ionian Islands; it was then in the course of being retaken by the Venetian Republic from the Turks, whose 20-year occupation had seen it looted and laid waste. At Kefalonia, Nicholas, the family patriarch, was honoured with a coat of arms and received a grant of land in recognition of his service in the defence of Coron. On their lands on the eastern side of the island around the port town of Lixouri and the village of Atheras, the Gennatas family prospered and grew a number of branches. One branch later emigrated to Corfu where most of its members dropped one ‘n’ from the spelling of their name and were known as Genatas [Gk: Γενάτας]. This Corfu branch later produced a notable figure in the person of the lawyer Ioannis Gennatas who served as Minister of Justice during the first 85

years of the modern Greek state. Some years later it produced Eugenios Genatas, thought to be a nephew of Ioannis, who decided when he was a young man to undertake an adventurous journey to the Antipodes where the recently installed vice-regal couple in the new Colony of Queensland were his acquaintances, Sir George and Lady Bowen, late of Corfu. As a cadet in the Native Mounted Police, Genatas’s first posting was to Rockhampton, the station of the First Division of the Native Mounted Police commanded by First Lieutenant John Murray and manned by Second Lieutenants F.T. Powell, J.T. Baker, E.G. Williams, G.P. Murray, A.F. Matoeieff and a number of native troopers. Cadet Genetas apparently arrived there labelled as a nephew of Lady Bowen even though he and Diamantina were not related. Rockhampton in 1860 was a flourishing river port but as a town it was only two years old and aside from its large government wharf and the nearby Fitzroy Hotel it consisted mostly of tents, or flimsy frame structures brought up by ship, and a few primitive places like the Bush Inn made of timber slabs and roofed with bark. The population was swollen by hundreds of gold miners from the south, who had come up in the ‘duffer rush’ to the spurious Canoona field and were now stranded there. The first regular police force was stationed in the place in September 1860 under Chief Constable Thomas John Griffin who, not many years later, would be convicted of murder and meet the hangman at Rockhampton Gaol. One morning towards the end of November 1860, the steamer Clarence laboured up the river to Rockhampton, and Captain Cottier fired the ship’s guns to announce that the Governor of Queensland was on board. At the wharf, a bower had been erected and a considerable crowd had gathered to welcome Sir George Bowen and Lady Diamantina. In attendance was a troop of native police, well turned out in their black peaked caps, green shirts, and red-striped trousers. The vice-regal couple landed and were escorted to the Fitzroy Hotel. The place was decorated with flags, flowers and evergreens and the Governor and his lady appeared later on the verandah to acknowledge the townsfolk gathered outside. The Governor 86

took a walk through the town before receiving a formal address from the inhabitants and giving his reply. In the following days, the vice-regal couple made excursions to Port Curtis and Canoona. They also attended a banquet, and when they made their departure, spirits were lifted by the strains of the Grand March from Norma, and the National Anthem, played by the band from James Ashton’s Equestrian Circus which was performing in Rockhampton at the time. Spirits in the town needed some lifting, as the Governor’s visit was conducted in the shadow of the appalling murder, just a month earlier, of a popular young woman of the town. Fanny Briggs was a fair-haired and pretty girl, 20 years of age, and well-liked in Rockhampton. She had been employed as a barmaid at the Royal Hotel in Sydney and had come up to Rockhampton with John Alexander Watt, the town’s butcher. Press reports said Fanny was employed as a housekeeper at Watt’s residence some four miles out on the Gracemere road, but this was a story more acceptable to the moral standards of the day than the fact that they were living together and intended to marry. Watt had gone away towards the end of October leaving Fanny in charge of the house, assisted by a man-servant. Watt’s horses strayed and Fanny sent the servant to the nearby police camp asking for the help of one of the Aboriginal troopers in bringing them in. The police would not help, so Fanny discharged the servant for failing to look out for the horses and, being a good horsewoman, saddled a horse intending to go out and find them herself. She was seen that afternoon riding near the racecourse but it was not noticed that she was missing until more than a week later, when Watt came home to find Fanny gone and, from the state of the place, apparently for some time. He rode over to the police camp and told Lieutenant John Murray and they rode out within minutes, accompanied by Cadet Genatas and trooper Toby, and searched the neighbourhood until half past nine that night. The search resumed the next morning and was joined by all of the government officials and many townsmen, and went on for days. The opinion was gaining ground that Fanny Briggs had left for Sydney without telling anyone, when at last tracks were found that led to 87

the discovery of her saddle cloth. The next morning a party of searchers, including Lieutenant John Murray, Cadet Genatas and six troopers, entered nearby Archer’s Scrub on the northern side of Scrubby Creek. There, in the filtered light of the forest, a saddle was found resting on a bough, and after much further searching, the body of Fanny Briggs was discovered, naked and tied to a tree. Murray wrote in his report: ‘The body was in a dreadful state of decomposition, but found in such a position, as to leave no doubt in the minds of all present that she had been violated and brutally murdered’. The circumstances, and the injuries to the skull consistent with blows from a waddy, led the inquest held some time later to confirm a verdict already widely accepted: that the crimes were committed by ‘a blackfellow, or blackfellows, unknown’. The Native Mounted Police were supposed to protect people from such outrages and, aware of the bad odour into which his organisation was falling, and the displeasure of Colonial Secretary Robert Herbert, the commandant, Edric Morisset, travelled up to Rockhampton early in January 1861 to take charge of the situation. He rode out the next morning with Lieutenant John Murray, a sergeant and four troopers in pursuit of a party of blacks who had left Mr Archer’s station not far from where Fanny Briggs was murdered. It was hoped to find in their possession some property taken from the murdered woman that would implicate them in the crime. After four days they came up with the group travelling near Raglan Creek. According to Morisset, one Aborigine, named Micho, who was wanted for the murder of a shepherd, was shot dead by one of the troopers, allegedly while he was attempting to escape. Morisset conceded that ‘another black was either accidentally wounded or shot here, but I did not see him’. By now there was an impression abroad that Morrisett’s party had engaged in a general reprisal against the Aborigines of the district. Morisset felt it necessary to declare he could ‘prove by almost every officer and serjeant in the division that this is the only occasion on which the blacks and police have come in collision since the murder of Fanny Briggs’, and to ‘deny most distinctly the truth of the report, that the police committed an unnecessary 88

and indiscriminate slaughter of the blacks in this neighbourhood’. Lieutenant Murray, in his written report, also thought it necessary to deny that any ‘indiscriminate slaughter’ took place, but did not ‘see it necessary to particularise further’, as Commandant Morrisset, to whom his report was addressed, was present and in charge of the party at the time. He did, however, ‘particularise’ the killing of Micho: ‘I made an attempt to secure a black of the name of Mico, the murderer of a German hutkeeper on Mr Archer’s station, on the 12th of March last, in which attempt he was shot’. It was not long before the police were acting on the belief that the perpetrators were not just any blackfellows, but their own troopers. Some circumstantial evidence pointed to this: Archer’s Scrub was a favourite haunt of the troopers, and during the search the native police had avoided the place and ridiculed the idea that the missing woman might be found there. There were reports that Miss Briggs had been seen riding with, or followed by, troopers Toby and Gulliver, and it had emerged that during a row amongst a group of Aborigines, a gin (woman) was heard to say that four native police troopers had committed the crime. Some of these men had since bolted, suggesting their guilt, although this could not be taken as certain, as other Aborigines had also run away for fear of becoming victims in a general bloodletting. The possible involvement of native police in the crime brought angry calls for the disbanding of the force or the replacement of its black troopers by white policemen. They added to the complaints that the police had used the Fanny Briggs outrage as an excuse to engage in ‘slaughters’ of the blacks. A correspondent to the Maryborough Chronicle, using the pseudonym ‘Abel’ and giving his address as ‘Fanny Briggs’ Grave, Rockhampton’, wrote in January 1861: Our beloved Sovereign, or her Ministers at home, can little know the awful deeds which are done in her name, and known and sanctioned by her Queensland representative. Sir George Bowen has been assured of them, and the day 89

will come perhaps when his convenient statement, that other people tell him just the opposite about the force, will not avail – when he will be called upon to explain why he did not make himself sure upon such a monstrous fact. Upon his head the slaughters now taking place will fall. ‘H.H.H. of Port Curtis’ wrote: The only effectual steps which can now be taken to put a stop to the heartless unnecessary murdering of the natives, is to send home a full account of what has been done in this way since the never-to-be sufficiently deplored advent of Sir Geo. Bowen; a simple statement of facts … of the indiscriminate slaughters after the murder of Fanny Briggs – those foul ones around Maryborough, Gladstone, Rockhampton, and those places; all of which have been hushed up by the government. The Native Mounted Police also had many defenders. Phillip Sellheim, one of the ‘outside’ squatters who had stations on the Dawson River and later in the Kennedy District, dismissed letters attacking the force as ‘the concoctions of a few busy-bodies’. He wrote: I need only call to your remembrance the fact that when the Native Police was disbanded some four years ago, murders by the blacks were in this district of such frequent occurrence, that I think I may safely state without exaggeration that some thirty lives were lost in the short period of six months. In the course of their hunt for the murderers of Fanny Brigs, Morisset and Murray came to the conclusion that two of the troopers in their party, Toby and Gulliver, had some part in the crime. Murray wrote: ‘Toby and Gulliver were favourites of the deceased, frequently helping her to find 90

horses, and I am aware that she has repeatedly given them grog in payment for their services. No doubt remains in my mind that they, assisted by one or two half civilised blacks, and especially one named Dicky from Mr Wiseman’s camp, committed the murder.’ Toby and Gulliver were placed in the lock-up at Rockhampton, as was another trooper named Alma when suspicion also fell upon him. Not long before Christmas Day 1860, Gulliver escaped while he was in the custody of Sergeant Bourke of the Native Mounted Police. The sergeant, accompanied by a trooper, had taken Gulliver back to Archer’s Scrub to find and bring back the bridle from Fanny Briggs’ horse. In the course of their mission, Gulliver managed to get away from the troopers and disappear into the depths of the forest. In the following days he carried out a series of robberies to get things he needed – blankets, tobacco, rations, firearms and cartridges – before fleeing with his gin to his own country on the Upper Dawson River. Lieutenant Powell accompanied by Cadet Genatas and three troopers got onto Gulliver’s tracks and followed them to his camp in a scrub on the Dee River west of Rockhampton. There, they managed to get between him and his firearms but Gulliver retreated deep into the scrub. His pursuers tracked him doggedly until dark when they camped for the night. The following morning they caught up with him. Lieutenant Powell wrote in his report: I was informed that Gulliver had gone to some drays; one of the black boys, named Kennis, formerly a trooper in the Native Mounted Police, who was attending the drays, made him drunk and secured him. On arriving at the spot I took charge of the prisoner, and proceeded towards Rockhampton. On passing through a thick scrub on the Calliangal Road, he tried to get away and I was compelled, in order to prevent his escape, to fire on him. He fell, mortally wounded, and died within five minutes.

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Troopers Alma and Toby never went to trial. Like Gulliver, Alma met his death while attempting to escape. It was reported that he was taken down to the river as usual to fetch water to wash his cell, and there he plunged into the stream. The guard fired at him, and he sank, but when his body was recovered there was no gun-shot wound, and it was assumed that the weight of his irons dragged him under and caused him to drown. Toby was set free and his fate is unknown, although it was said that he went with native police troopers into a scrub and was not seen again. Later that year Colonial Secretary Robert Herbert wrote to the Commandant of the Native Mounted Police at Rockhampton approving of the removal of his headquarters from Rockhampton to a site on the Athelstane Range some miles from the town, ‘where the troopers will have fewer temptations to intoxication through the ready access to public houses’. Second Lieutenant John Darley, after less than a year’s service with the Native Police at Rockhampton, fell ill and died and Eugenios Genatas, with six months’ service as a cadet, was considered good enough to fill the vacancy. Edric Morisset recommended to the Colonial Secretary that Genatas be promoted to Second Lieutenant and the Executive Council approved this, and the backdating of the appointment by some 10 weeks. It also decided that, ‘in the present undecided state of matters connected with the Native Police’, it would not appoint a cadet to take his place. The Council also refused the allowances that were formerly paid to junior officers in addition to salary. Genatas would have to make do on his increased pay of £200 a year. At this time, a select committee of the legislative assembly was conducting an Inquiry into the Native Mounted Police and during the hearings in July 1861, Morisset, the Commandant of the force, was required to comment on the efficiency of his officers. He was asked by the Chairman, Robert Mackenzie: ‘Have these appointments all turned out as efficient officers?’ ‘Yes, pretty well’, was Morisset’s reply. The questions eventually got to Genatas, and Morisset was asked, ‘Is he a commissioned officer?’ ‘Yes, he was appointed second lieutenant.’ ‘What is your opinion of him – do 92

you think him a good officer?’ Morisset replied, ‘He is very zealous, and particularly steady; the only thing against him is his imperfect knowledge of the language’. Morisset’s opinion of Genatas’s superiors was not as good: John Murray was ‘a good officer’ until he ‘gave way to habits of intemperance’. Lieutenant Powell, too, was given to ‘intemperate habits’. Commanding officers usually did not make such frank comments about men in their charge, but Edric Morisset must have felt free to do so as he was about to resign his post and leave Queensland for good. His statements to the Inquiry, taken with subsequent events, contributed to Lieutenant John Murray’s transfer out of Rockhampton and a recommendation by the Inquiry that he should be removed from the Native Mounted Police due to a ‘general unfitness for his duties’. Murray protested at these findings but resigned in 1862. Lieutenant Powell fared better, weathering the strong criticisms of some members of the Inquiry and remaining in the force until his retirement in 1864, after which he continued to serve in other public service roles. Governor Bowen visited Dalby on the Darling Downs in September 1861, and his insistence on having a detachment of native police from Rockhampton in his escort caused a stir. ‘What will be the expense to the country, and what disorganisation and disaster may arise during the Commandant’s absence from his post on his fantastical mission’, a correspondent to a newspaper demanded to know. He continued, ‘It is painful to observe how our money is squandered. The country, heaven knows, is already groaning beneath the weight of a superabundance of incompetent salaried officialism. The cost per head of governing the 80,000 Queenslanders is fabulous — without a parallel in the wide, wide world’. Meanwhile, the Assembly’s Inquiry into the native police was continuing and evidence it took from a witness named Henry Babbit, who had been travelling in the interior as an agent for Colton’s Maps, cast a rather different light on the death of black trooper Gulliver. Babbit told the inquiry that in the course of his travels he met with a native police detachment near a station called Calliangal in the Dawson district. They were searching for an escaped prisoner, ‘a blackfellow, named Gulliver, 93

supposed to be concerned in the murder of Fanny Briggs, at Rockhampton’. Babbit later saw Gulliver at close quarters after he was captured and placed in the carriage in which Babbit was travelling. Gulliver was at first ‘bound hand and foot. His arms were fastened behind him with a cord, and the same cord was fastened round his legs, which were drawn up so us to form a sort of triangle.’ However, on being placed in the carriage his legs were untied. Babbit said, ‘The party then formed a guard round the prisoner. There were two or three white men from the Calliangal station, and the native police and their officers, Lieutenant Powell and Cadet Genetas – quite a formidable party altogether.’ Babbit went on to recount that when the carriage reached the junction of the main road with the Calliangal Station road, the police took Gulliver out and put him under a tree. The native police officers and troopers remained there while the carriage with Mr Babbit and the men belonging to the station proceeded on to Calliangal which they reached soon after. They had not been there long when the native police arrived at the station without their prisoner. An Aboriginal trooper came up first and, when asked by Babbit what they were going to do with Gulliver, he replied, ‘He no keep away anymore.’ Soon after, the rest of the police party came up and on asking one of the ‘white men’ what had been done with Gulliver, Babbit was told it was, ‘one of those things which ought not be talked about’, from which he took it that Gulliver had been killed. When challenged by members of the Committee as to his assumption that Gulliver had been killed, Babbit said, ‘Well, when I left him, Gulliver was a prisoner in the custody of the native police, and it was only a few minutes after that the whole party came up to the station without their prisoner; and the next morning they went away by another road; they did not return to the same place at all. They remained at the station all that day, and went off next morning in a different direction.’ Some members of the Committee accepted Babbit’s evidence while others preferred the version put to them earlier by Edric Morisset who, relying on the word of Lieutenant Powell, said that Gulliver had been feigning intoxication and had been shot when he suddenly made an attempt to escape. 94

That month, the Executive Council, the highest level of government in Queensland, considered whether Second Lieutenant Genatas should be permitted to receive the allowances in lieu of provisions that he had enjoyed as a cadet, and which had been withdrawn since his promotion. Genatas’s application was forwarded with a supporting letter from his senior officer and laid before the Council by the Governor, Sir George Bowen. Genatas based his application on the fact that his having been in the force since October 1860, his promotion should not be viewed as a new appointment to which no allowance was attached. The Council deliberated, but noted the special regulation providing that no officer appointed since 1 January 1861 should draw an allowance. The Council could not see any reason for deviating from this rule in favour of Genatas, and so were unable to advise the Governor to accede to his application. On 18 October 1861, Edward Kenny rode into Rainworth Station and told of a terrible massacre the previous day at the newly formed Cullin-laringo station on the Nogoa River, where he was employed as a shepherd by the owner, Mr Horatio Wills. Nineteen people, including Mr Wills, had been murdered by the Aborigines in a sudden onslaught. Among the dead were women and children. At this time, Lieutenant Genatas was in charge of a detachment of native police stationed at Theresa Creek on the Peak Downs, some 70 miles from the scene. At Rockhampton, Lieutenant Charles Phibbs had recently drowned, putting the Police Magistrate, John Jardine, temporarily in charge of the native police detachment there. On learning of the events at Cullin-la-ringo, he gave the following orders: Cadet Johnson, with Sergeant Graham, will proceed tomorrow morning to Lieut. Genetas Camp at Peak Downs, taking with him eight horses, besides those ridden, and 300 rounds of Ball cartridge. Mr Johnson will not injure the condition of the horses or disable them from immediate service on reaching Peak Downs. On arrival at Camp Mr Johnson will be under the orders of Lieut. Genatas. 95

Jardine gave Johnson a letter to take to Genatas: The only assistance therefore which I can render is to send you a remount of fresh horses with a supply of ammunition. These are in charge of Mr Johnson who is instructed to deliver the horses to you with as much speed as will not injure their condition or ability for immediate work when they reach you. A private party led by Mr P.F. McDonald also starts tomorrow for Wills Station for the purpose of recovering the lost sheep, protect the survivors of the party and cooperating with your force. ... It will be well to caution the settlers in your neighbourhood relative to this horrid affair and as to letting the Blacks up to the stations, and let them keep a sharp look out for strange Blacks appearing among the tribes … I need not remind you that this is a case demanding the strongest measures and the most prompt and energetic action on the part of the Native Police and in fact of everyone in the district – and I do trust it will prove a warning to the settlers generally against allowing the Blacks up to the stations and admitting them too much familiarity. Mr Horatio Wills, a wealthy squatter from Victoria, had taken up leases over a hundred square miles of land in the Peak Downs district near present-day Springsure. He and his vast train of 10,000 sheep, bullock wagons and drays, and numerous workers, then undertook an eight-month trek from Brisbane to the site of his new station. Most of his party had been at the camp for only a fortnight, and all were busily engaged in building stockyards, huts and store rooms. Aborigines were numerous about the place but seemed friendly, and men went about their work on the property unarmed. Wills had plenty of firearms, many of them loaded, but they were kept in his tent. At the camp on the day of the massacre were Wills, David Baker his overseer, with his wife and their four children, Patrick Manion 96

with his wife and their three children, and seven men. Five more men, including Wills’ son Tom, were away that day. Only John Moore, who had fallen asleep in a thicket under a tree, and was not noticed by the attacking Aborigines, was able to give an account of what occurred. He described how the Aborigines had been coming into the camp, their numbers gradually increasing until there were many gathered around. Then, suddenly, they raised their nullah nullahs and clubbed to death every man, woman and child within reach. A party from Rainworth Station was the first on the scene and they attended to the burial of the dead. Horatio Wills was found lying in front of his tent. His revolver was on the ground close by with a single shot fired. It was clear that the attack was sudden and unexpected: there were dead women with their sewing still in their hands, and a lifeless bullock driver holding his whip. The Aborigines had ransacked the camp and knives, axes, tools, blankets and many other things had been carried away. At Rockhampton, the shocking news from Cullin-la-ringo, followed by the arrival in the town of a number of unknown Aborigines, produced a near panic. A public meeting was held and resolutions were made calling for the provision of more native police and the protection of outlying districts. Newcomers from the southern colonies were especially voluble. Mr Fyfe, a late member of parliament for Geelong in Victoria, declared, ‘These natives must be regarded as open foes. They are assassins. This is not a time for maudlin sympathy.’ The Colonial Secretary, Robert Herbert, responding to the general outcry, bypassed the usual chain of command; he wrote personally to the officers in charge of several native police camps, ordering them to send their detachments to the scene of the massacre, and to ‘efficiently patrol’ the district. He may have been satisfied with the results, reported in the Rockhampton Bulletin on November 30, and later in other newspapers: We are informed that on the 26th or 27th ultimo, the Native Police overtook the tribe of natives who committed the late 97

outrage at Nogoa, and succeeded in driving them into a place from whence escape was impossible. They then shot down sixty or seventy, and only ceased firing upon them when their ammunition was expended. One of the blacks who was shot, cried out, ‘Me no kill whitefellow!’ showing plainly, they well comprehended the proceeding. Some firearms and other property in their possession were recovered. – Ed. Bulletin. William Buzacott, the editor of the Bulletin, did not give the source of his information, but an official report made by Second Lieutenant William Cave at Albinia Downs Station on 9 November, supports it in part. Cave and his detachment arrived at the scene of the massacre on 25 October and judged that the ‘guilty Blacks had made off in a north westerly direction’. He followed their tracks the next day, passing through a number of their old camps where he found ‘vestiges of the late Mr Wills’ property’. On 27 October he came upon a small hunting party scattered over broken country, and ‘observed many of the gins to be carrying blankets and large bundles’. Cave dismounted two of his troopers, intending to track this party to their camp, ‘but they continued travelling after dark’. On the following day, Cave observed ‘a large mob of Blacks on top of a high hill, the front of which was almost perpendicular and on our riding nearer, the Blacks gave us to understand most unmistakably their intention of holding their ground’. That evening, Lieutenant Cave and his troopers approached the Aborigines on foot: ‘a shot from one of the men was the first intimation the Blacks had of our approach, when finding themselves surprised and nearly surrounded, they made no stand; their loss was heavy, and I consider many were killed from falling over the cliffs. There I recovered a pistol and destroyed much property that had been brought from Mr Wills’ station.’ No report from Lieutenant Genatas on his operations at Cullin-laringo has come to light, and the only indication of his presence there is given by Peter McDonald who led the civilian contingent from Rockhampton. In a letter to Police Magistrate Jardine at Rockhampton, McDonald said they 98

arrived at Cullin-la-ringo on 4 November and ‘spent eight days searching the scrubs in the neighbourhood’ without finding any of the miscreant Aborigines. He wrote, ‘I did not meet Lieutenant Genitas, but I saw tracks about twenty-six miles south of Cullin-la-ringo, which I think must have been his.’ It is likely that in the aftermath of Cullin-la-ringo, more Aborigines died at the hands of civilian settlers than by police action. These vigilante operations would not have been reported. Even on the remote Queensland frontier, men were circumspect about such activities considering that in 1838, during Governor Gipps’ administration in New South Wales, seven stockmen were hanged for the murder of Aborigines at Myall Creek. Nor could the police act with impunity, as shown in the reaction of the Sydney Morning Herald to the reported reprisals in Queensland: Whatever excuses may extenuate the conduct of the police, we cannot have the least doubt that in the eye of the British law they are guilty of murder. They had the blacks within their power, and their escape we are told was impossible, that one of them we are informed spoke English enough to appeal for quarter. ‘Me no kill white fellow’ was perhaps true; whether or not, it was a proof that the appeal was made under circumstances which would have admitted of arrest. It would have been inconvenient to take prisoners no doubt, but the law does not permit its agents to excuse murder on the ground of saving trouble, or to prevent future crimes by a greater one. The Herald ’s ruminations on the law were correct, but they had largely been taken into account in the design and operation of the paramilitary force that was the Queensland Native Mounted Police. Aboriginal troopers recruited a thousand miles to the south at the head of the Murray River had few misgivings about shooting the tribesmen of Queensland, who 99

were quite alien to them and, at eight pence per day plus keep, they were much cheaper to employ than white troopers. They also had the distinct advantage of being unable to give evidence about their activities in a court of law. This was because, as ‘savages’, they were deemed to have no belief in ‘any future state of rewards or punishments’ – that is, Heaven and Hell – and were therefore unable to swear an oath. Each native police patrol was led by a single white officer and its work was performed as much as possible in the bush, out of sight of other white men. Patrols were sent out with orders to ‘disperse’ troublesome groups of Aborigines. All ranks understood the meaning of this euphemism and, armed with Enfield carbines firing leaden balls five-eighths of an inch in diameter, the troopers could put it into dreadful effect. Lieutenant Cave’s report on the reprisals after Cullin-la-ringo was unusual in detailing the shooting of Aborigines and can be explained by the public outcry after that infamous massacre, and the demand for some conspicuous act of retribution. By December, John O’Connell Bligh, who had succeeded Edric Morisset as Commandant of the Native Mounted Police, had two detachments with six troopers each stationed on the Nogoa and Comet rivers under Second Lieutenants Cave and Williams. He had also given orders to Second Lieutenant Genatas at Peak Downs to patrol with his detachment as far south as the Nogoa River, and to Second Lieutenant Moorhead on the Upper Dawson River to be ‘immediately available for outside duty in case of emergency’. He assured Colonial Secretary Herbert that his men would ‘exert themselves continually in following up the murderers’. Most squatters on the Peak Downs would have approved of the increased native police presence, but Charles Dutton of Bauhinia Downs Station was not one of them. Dutton blamed the police for provoking the massacre at Cullin-la-ringo. He wrote to the Sydney Morning Herald in January 1862 saying that ‘the real causes of the murder of Mr Wills and party’ were the ‘grossest cruelty, the most oppressive and exasperating acts’ on the part of the police, which had caused ‘a feeling of hatred, and desire 100

of revenge’ among the Aborigines. Dutton cited events at Albinia Downs Station, about 50 miles south of Cullin-la-ringo, where the blacks had formerly shepherded nearly all the sheep, as well as assisting in lambing, washing, and other work: A change of managers brought a change of policy, and the blacks were turned out, and not allowed to come on the station. As they had given no cause for such treatment they thought it hard, and could not understand it. They used frequently to come up to the station and ask to be allowed on the run. A complaint was made by someone on the station that one of these parties, ‘looked suspicious’, and ‘asked him for monkeys [sheep]’, on which the police went out and shot some of them. My blacks asked me, ‘What for policeman shoot him, bail blackfellow kill whitefellow, bail take monkey, bail take ration, what for shoot him? You been yabber blackfellow budgery bail policeman shoot him’ [‘Why did the police shoot those blackfellows? Those blackfellows did not kill a white man. They did not steal sheep. They did not steal rations. Why were they shot? You told us if blackfellows are good, the police will not shoot them’]. Charles Dutton observed, ‘The blacks in this neighbourhood have frequently told me the Warpahs or Nogoa blacks would kill some white fellow for those shot at Albinia Downs’. In March 1862, Second Lieutenant Genatas, still at his post at Theresa Creek on the Peak Downs, forwarded a report to his divisional commander at Rockhampton, Lieutenant George P.M. Murray. He described his recent patrol to the Belyando River in company with his troopers Billy, Blutcher, Bunan, Charlie, Davie and Jerome, and how they had visited a couple of stations and found that Aborigines had not made an appearance there for a long time. On returning to Theresa Creek late in February, Genatas 101

found a letter there from a Mr McLeod, the superintendent of a property in the vicinity of The Peaks owned by a squatter named Stewart. McLeod reported in his letter that Aborigines had attacked a neighbouring station owned by a Mr Chambers on the north side of The Peaks. Genatas rode out that day to Mr Stewart’s station and there he was informed that ‘Chambers was in the habit of hunting the gins of the Blacks with a Blackfellow that he keeps in his place for this purpose’. He was also told that ‘some days previously he [Chambers] sent the Blackfellow to bring him a gin and as the Blackfellow did not make his appearance for some time, Mr Chambers rode out and found him with another Blackfellow [and] drove them both back to the station. He then shot the one and stabbed the other with a dagger.’ Genatas wrote in his report that the same story was told to him by several people. He then went to see Chambers who had a different story, saying he had been out, and in coming back to the place, ‘he saw 5 or 6!!! Blackfellows.’ Chambers told Genatas these Aborigines were not armed but he thought they were up to some mischief. ‘Therefore he fired on one and missed him, after which two of them came up to him and having no more barrels loaded of his revolver had to stab them both with his dagger.’ Genatas said that Chambers’ account ‘looked rather suspicious’, but he said he would go after this group of Aborigines, who were said to be camping on broken country some 12 miles away. The Lieutenant went to get some rations from Chambers’ place, and when he returned, one of his men told him, ‘Mr Chambers went up to the whole lot of troopers and promised to give two pounds reward if they should bring him a gin’. Genatas said when he was about to leave, Chambers was down at the creek looking for some rams, ‘otherwise’ he would have given him ‘a sharp reprimand’; he then left Chambers’ station ‘disgusted with his proceeding’. The Lieutenant and his troopers rode to Cutherstone and then to Logan Downs and, ‘finding everywhere the Blacks did not appear at all’, they returned to their camp at Theresa Creek on 3 March. To Genatas’s annoyance, he found his Camp Sergeant, Hendy, still 102

asleep at half past eleven in the morning. The horses had not been mustered and Hendy had left the place three times while the patrol was away, and stayed out for two nights. Genatas wrote in his report to Murray, ‘I was going to remonstrate with him when he brought me his resignation which I have the honour to enclose to you.’ In concluding his report, Genatas added, ‘I am happy to state that the Blacks are quiet for the present all over the District under my charge.’ A man who appreciated the presence of the native police detachment on Peak Downs was the squatter Oscar de Satge who held Wolfang Station, some 25 miles north of Theresa Creek. A patrician figure who moved in the highest colonial circles, he was known as ‘Oscar le Grand’ to his detractors. De Satge would later recall a day in 1862 when his party enjoyed the protection of a detachment of native police led by Lieutenant Genatas who ‘was supposed to be a connection of the accomplished and excellent wife of our first Governor, Sir George Bowen, and like her hailed from those Isles of Greece where burning Sappho loved and sang’. De Satge found Genatas to be ‘an excellent fellow and a pleasant companion’, and he would later befriend Genatas’s countryman, Dr Spiridion Candiottis, after he came to settle in the new town of Clermont. John O’Connell Bligh, Commandant of the Native Mounted Police, was the grandson of Captain Bligh of HMS Bounty fame, who later served as Governor of New South Wales during the Rum Rebellion. He seems to have had some of the same steel in his character. In 1859 he inspired fear among Aborigines at the Bunya Mountains and, in 1860, he pursued a group into Maryborough and shot one of them in plain sight. From March to May 1862, Bligh undertook an arduous tour of inspection, visiting Native Mounted Police stations on the upper Mackenzie River, the Peak Downs, the Nogoa and Comet rivers and the upper and lower Dawson rivers. The tour lasted 76 days and Bligh suffered much during the journey, losing some 21 days to illness. The most difficult stage was the trek over Buckland’s Tableland, where Bligh and his party endured more than a day without water and two days without food. 103

Bligh came down with ‘an attack of intermittent fever’, but somehow he struggled on for 150 miles to the next station. In his report to the Colonial Secretary, Bligh gave an account of conditions at each Native Mounted Police station and his impressions of its officers and men. He noted that Second Lieutenant Bayly and his troopers on the Upper Mackenzie River had encountered a large number of Aborigines in the ‘immense scrubs’ on the eastern side of the river, and found articles in their possession that might have come from Horatio Wills’ station. Bligh reported that he ‘had every reason to hope Bayly will prove himself an efficient officer’. On the Nogoa River, near the scene of the recent massacre, Second Lieutenants Cave and Williams had just returned from patrol. The district was quiet and Cave reported, ‘it was seldom he could find a single track of a blackfellow’. Cave also offered the opinion that ‘many of those concerned in the murder had gone to the neighbouring Districts and had appeared in a new character as innocent station Blacks’. Williams on the other hand had twice fired on Aborigines at the Comet River and killed some of them. Bligh commented: ‘The efficient state of the whole detachment was very satisfactory’. Bligh’s report went on at length in a similar vein, but at the Peak Downs station he found things not to his liking: ‘The troopers under Second Lieutenant Genatas were not very well up in their drill, and that officer was living at Mr Hood’s house a mile away from the Camp instead of with his men.’ Bligh directed Genatas to move his tent at once to the camp and made some arrangements for the erection of a barracks there. The Commandant reported that he proceeded on his journey, having first dismissed Genatas’s former Camp Sergeant ‘for insubordination, incorrigible laziness and general incompetency’, a needless demonstration of his authority given that Genatas had forwarded the Camp Sergeant’s letter of resignation several weeks before. The report suggests that Bligh did not have a good opinion of his Corfiot Second Lieutenant. Things got worse for Genatas after Bligh returned to Rockhampton 104

about the middle of May and ‘heard with surprise and regret of the desertion of seven of Mr Genatas’ troopers’. Genatas had been out looking for the runaway troopers for days, but without success, and when he came to Rockhampton, Bligh added to his report, ‘on my arrival here I met that officer who had returned from an unsuccessful pursuit of the deserters. He then handed me his resignation stating that he felt himself unfitted for so harassing a life, and coinciding with that opinion, I have forwarded the same under a separate cover for the consideration of the Government. In the meantime Mr Genatas has returned to Peak Downs to bring down the horses, arms &c., of the deserters.’ Early in June, Bligh forwarded to the Colonial Secretary, Genatas’s report, ‘mentioning and animadverting on, the conduct of Mr Chambers, squatter on Peak Downs, towards the Aborigines’. Bligh mentioned in his covering letter that, ‘Second Lieutenant Genatas informed me (verbally) that he had the strongest reason to believe that the statements he heard of the matter were true and that Mr Chambers’ account was a fabrication. I therefore think it my duty to bring the whole circumstances before your notice, and to state that such unprovoked barbarity is calculated to excite the Blacks to a vengeance which will probably fall, not on Mr Chambers, but on some of his unoffending neighbours, and may cause unnecessary bloodshed on both sides.’ A.W. Manning of the Colonial Secretary’s office replied to Bligh some three weeks later but only to indulge in some worthless hand-wringing: The Government deeply regret that such atrocities should have been committed, and are convinced that to such acts may be traced much of the bloodshed that unfortunately too often occurs. Still, in the present case, there is no possible ground for action on the part of the Government. The charges against Mr Chambers are incapable of legal proof, and it would probably be worse than useless to demand his explanation. It is feared that he may himself some day be 105

made to feel the vengeance of those he has abused, but the Government are powerless to punish. The activity of the Police is the only reliable guarantee for the safety of others in the neighbourhood of Chambers. In a separate letter, written on the same day, Manning informed Bligh that ‘H.E. the Governor has been pleased to accept the resignation of Mr Genatas, as Second Lieutenant in the Native Mounted Police’. About a fortnight later, Genatas boarded the steamer for Brisbane. In the passenger list he was described as ‘Lieutenant Genatas’ but by then he no longer held any rank in the Native Police. Genatas spent about four months in Brisbane and, although his movements there are not known, he appeared to retain favour with Sir George Bowen and Lady Diamantina, and in late October he was back in Rockhampton attending a banquet for the Governor held at Skardon’s Hotel. It was a splendid occasion at which the Mayor presided and nearly a hundred worthies of the district heard Sir George speak in reply to the toast in his honour: He had to congratulate them upon the marvellous progress they had made in Rockhampton, progress in no sense due to the discovery of precious metals, but simply to the industry of its inhabitants in their heroic work of civilisation. That such was the cause of that progress was obvious to all. ... Rockhampton was the metropolis of the Northern Districts – as the latter, so must the former advance. The formation of new settlements on the north coast at Cape York, must ultimately lead to the establishment of a line of ocean steamers, and a telegraph. Eventually he trusted to see a train of settlements reaching from Rockhampton by Port Denison, Endeavour River, and Rockingham Bay, to Cape York. Such were the triumphs of civilisation, 106

triumphs gained without the loss of blood, triumphs embracing the welfare of all here and hereafter, (loud and continued cheering). .

There followed toasts to ‘the Army and Navy’, ‘the Squatting Interest’ and ‘the Mercantile Interest’, and speeches in reply of varying length and quality. There was a rendition of ‘Bonnie Dundee’ to revive the flagging audience, and Monsieur Thozet was called upon for the ‘Marsellaise’ which he performed with ‘considerable animation’. Genatas also sang the ‘Greek Revolutionary Air of 1821’, a reference to Solomos’ ‘Hymn to Liberty’, the first stanzas of which would be adopted a few years later as the Greek National Anthem. He sang the Greek words, making it intelligible only to Diamantina and, of course, Sir George Bowen, whose command of Greek, both ancient and modern, was complete: I shall always recognize you by the dreadful sword you hold, as the Earth with searching vision you survey with spirit bold. From the Greeks of old whose dying brought to life and spirit free, now with ancient valor rising Let us hail you, oh Liberty! A toast to the ‘Agricultural interest’ was proposed and replied to, followed by ‘the Mayor and the Corporation’, and in conclusion Genatas proposed a toast to ‘the health of Lady Bowen and the ladies of Rockhampton’. His Excellency, on behalf of Lady Bowen, returned thanks, and assured them that she was particularly touched by the 107

cordial approbation which her name always evoked. With regard to the ladies of Rockhampton, he felt unable to take up the subject. Two years ago Mr Larnach had responded to that toast, but, as since then he had entered the holy state of matrimony, by the laws of Queensland, he was unfit for the duty. It might be thought that married men knew too much about the ladies to return thanks for them. (‘No! no!’). At any rate he regarded the ladies in a parental light, and should leave the matter in the hands of some one who might wish to be more intimately acquainted with them, than even a father. (Loud cheers!). The next day, the Governor held a levee at the courthouse attended by many influential men of the district, although Genatas was not among them. He must have found some employment in Rockhampton that enabled him to stay on there for a few months – a donation of two guineas to the Church of England building fund in January 1863 indicates that he was solvent – and it was not until early February that he returned to Brisbane, sailing on the Clarence. Interestingly, John O’Connell Bligh, his late superior in the Native Mounted Police, was a fellow passenger on that voyage, as was Lieutenant Rudolph Morisset. Genatas spent only a week in Brisbane before steaming south to Sydney on the Yarra Yarra when he again had Bligh and Morisset as fellow passengers, suggesting that it was not a coincidence. Perhaps it was an introduction from Bligh that enabled Genatas to obtain an appointment as a Third Class Detective with the New South Wales Police, a post he held until his resignation some 10 months later on 31 December 1863. He had now used up his connections and was on his own, but he was not completely unprepared, as shown by an advertisement published in The Sydney Morning Herald on his last day of employment with the police:

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TO PARENTS, Heads of Schools, and Mercantile Firms – Mr E S GENATAS begs respectfully to inform the public of Sydney that he will be happy to give LESSONS in Italian, Modern Greek, or French Languages. Translations from books or newspapers, mercantile correspondence translated or written to order. Highest references given. Address E. S GENATAS, 241, Castlereagh-street. The above advertisement and a shorter one – ‘A CARD – Mr E. J, GENATAS, Teacher of Italian, French, and Modern Greek, 241 Castlereagh-street’ – appeared several times in the Herald and the Empire. They were followed by advertisements placed by Mrs Bransby and Mrs Vyner of the Australian Ladies College announcing M. Eugene J. Genatas as a ‘professor of French and Italian’ at their institution in Kellet House. The last of the advertisements appeared in the Sydney press on 1 February 1864 after which Eugenios Genatas steps out of history. One matter of importance remains to be addressed regarding Genatas. This is the way in which he should be remembered for his conduct in the Queensland Native Mounted Police. Jonathan Richards, in his book The Secret War: A True History Of Queensland’s Native Police, published by the University of Queensland Press in 2008, notes that a large group of men served in the Native Police for periods of less than five years. The author describes the cohort that included Eugenios Genatas: Twenty-eight of these short-term members were appointed during the 1860s. The high number suggests that many officers discovered the work was risky and unpleasant in this early period of colonisation and, preferring other employment, left soon after they joined. Another reason for this large number of appointments at that time was the

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expansion of the force, with little care being taken in the selection of officers. Under the subheading ‘A Taste for Blood’, the The Secret War includes Genatas in a list of 15 officers ‘named in the records as being connected with violence against Aboriginal people or troopers’. The men so listed are described as ‘the most brutal group of the officer class’, and ‘most likely to be dismissed for disciplinary or character reasons’. The book continues: This is a particularly important point of historical detail that the research has uncovered. Records show that some shortterm sub-inspectors, in charge of detachments that killed Aboriginal people, were dismissed because of these events. Other files show that junior officers killed troopers. This is unsurprising considering the basic function of the force. A second list then presents 29 men described as ‘The most violent officers: men recorded as being dismissed, or allowed to resign, or chastised after being involved in unlawful killings’. Genatas also appears in this list. Does Eugenios Genatas deserve to be remembered so unfavourably? He cannot be seen as a virtuous figure as he served – albeit briefly and perhaps naively – in a paramilitary force whose function it was to make the frontier safe for settlement by ‘dispersing’ Aboriginal resistance. However, no act of brutality or violence is presented in The Secret War that would justify placing Genatas in ‘the most brutal group of the officer class’, or among ‘the most violent officers’. As a Cadet, Genatas took some part in the pursuit of the murderers of Fanny Briggs, and as a Second Lieutenant he led a detachment to Cullin-la-ringo after the massacre there, but little is known of his conduct in these police actions. The charge that Genatas was among officers ‘recorded as being dismissed, or allowed to resign, or chastised after being involved in unlawful killings’, is wrong. There is no record of Genatas killing anyone. So far as is known, the closest he came to it was as a cadet in Lieutenant Powell’s

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detachment, when Powell shot and killed the prisoner Gulliver. Powell’s claim that he was ‘compelled’ to fire on Gulliver as he was escaping, is open to doubt, and one wonders why Powell is not listed among the ‘most brutal fifteen’, or the ‘most violent twenty-nine’, while Genatas is in both lists. The records suggest that the immediate cause of Genatas’ resignation was the desertion of six native troopers under his command and his lack of success in returning them to duty. But these were fresh recruits just off the steamer at Rockhampton, and men recruited from the Logan River, a district too close to their intended field of operations, and hence unreliable. The fault appears to lie as much in their selection as in Genatas’s command of them. Rather than displaying a ‘taste for blood’, Genatas’s brief career suggests something else. His report alleging crimes against Aborigines by the Peak Downs squatter Chambers – the kidnapping of women and the shooting and stabbing of men – reveals a moral sense that did not sit well with his role as an officer in the Queensland Native Mounted Police and was embarrassing to his superiors.

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CHAPTER 8

Andreas Lagogiannis Andreas and Athanas Lagogiannis arrived at Melbourne on 23 May 1854 aboard the Teak, a brig of 200 tons that had sailed from Calcutta 10 weeks earlier. Andreas, aged about 34, and Athanas, his younger brother by a few years, were listed among four cabin passengers, with ‘three Chinese in the steerage’. These sons of Demetrios and Christina Lagogiannis, of the Greek port of Patras, had made good use of their time and money in Calcutta, loading the Teak’s hold with a great array of trade goods calculated to loosen purse-strings in gold-rich Melbourne. A few months later, in the approach to Christmas, the city’s inhabitants were made aware of their offerings through well-drawn advertisements in the newspapers: Lagogiannis Brothers have the honour most respectfully to intimate to the Ladies residing in Melbourne and its fashionable and extensive environs, that they have just opened several cases of rare Indian goods. The men from Patras promised: a great variety of the universally admired and much sought for richly and tastefully worked white and flowered Dacca or Indian muslin dresses, mantles, jackets, chemisettes, sleeves, collars, and handkerchiefs, shawls and scarfs, lavishly

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embroidered in gold and silk. There were also ladies boots and shoes in white and black satin, merino and cloth, but perhaps the best of their offerings were: fashionable made-up ball and other dresses, shot silk mantles, white and black lace mantles, white silk vests, rich bridal suits complete, children’s dresses, of sizes, ladies’ under-linen, babies’ frocks, bonnets, and straw hats, &c. The gentlemen were not forgotten. For them there were ‘Indian silk coats and waistcoats’ and ‘fine white and coloured shirts’. Naturally, everything was offered ‘at extremely low prices’, and a note of urgency was sounded with the advice that ‘Lagogiannis Brothers intend leaving the Colony shortly’. Their first advertisement in November was followed with further notices as Christmas drew near: ‘Lagogiannis Brothers are selling off at a great sacrifice’; ‘Patent Leather Dress Boots, Indian Muslin Dresses, Men’s and Boys’ Summer Clothing, and Shirts, Preserves, Tents, superior Stretchers’; ‘Indian-manufactured rich Bridal Suit, Shawls, Scarfs, Muslins, Ivory Ornaments, Portraits of celebrated men of India, &c., now on view, and for sale: together with a great many rare and useful articles, at the importers, Lagogiannis Brothers, 53 Queen-street’. The venture was profitable enough for Andreas to do it all again the following year. He sailed in the Teak early in 1855 and, on reaching Calcutta, loaded her with trade goods. The return voyage, however, was a long one as the brig sprang a leak as she made her way through the Indian Ocean to the southern latitudes to catch the prevailing westerlies. The captain had to detour 1,500 miles to the west to Mauritius for repairs and the Teak did not reach Melbourne’s Hobson’s Bay anchorage until 1 November, which fortunately for Andreas gave him just enough time to catch the Christmas sales. 113

His advertisement declared: ‘A. Lagogiannis has the honour to inform his lady friends of last year, and admirers of Indian goods, that he has lately returned from Calcutta, with a small but select assortment of ladies, summer goods’. On offer were more of the ‘universally-admired white Indian muslin dresses in flounces and tucks, chemisettes, habit shirts, sleeves and collars’. There were also ‘pineapple cloth and French cambric handkerchiefs, petticoats and petticoat borders, babies’ robes, girls’ frocks, and a variety of frillings, insertions and edgings, fine Indian calico day chemises and dressing gowns’. All of these items, Andreas assured his public, were ‘neatly and beautifully worked, and of the most elegant patterns’. To inject a note of urgency, Andreas advised that sales were ‘now opened (for a few days only) at 59 William-street’, although he was still trading four months later. In March 1856, he announced that he had sold most of this second shipment, although ‘a few of the well-known pretty and rare things’ were still on hand and available ‘at nearly cost price’. He offered his ‘grateful acknowledgements to the ladies of Melbourne’ for their ‘liberal patronage’, and gave notice that he would suspend business for the season that month. Andreas was by now a naturalised British Subject. Athanas waited until later in the year before following his brother’s example. Both men’s naturalisation papers gave their occupation as ‘farmer’ as by that time they had acquired 136 acres of land at Cranbourne near Western Port with a partner named Richard Musgrove. This was a developed farm situated ‘six miles beyond Dandenong’; it was fenced in with post and rails and had 30 acres of cleared land. The farm adjoined a crown reserve said to be 40,000 acres in extent, giving the property ‘all the advantages of a cattle station, having fine stockyards, pig-sties and other necessary erections’. The Lagogiannis’ press advertisements now reflected their farming interests: one called for ‘a boy for the bush to tail cattle’; another offered for sale ‘cheap, one Clayton’s Patent and latest improved brick machine, and one brick press’, a device that could ‘pug and make 10,000 to 15,000 bricks per day, by one horse, one man, and two boys’. 114

It was also apparent now that Andreas would be making his own way in business. With the exception of the farm at Cranbourne, he and Athanas had ceased to be partners; indeed Athanas would withdraw entirely into his brother’s shadow and, although not abandoned, would go unnoticed. Soon Andreas was entered on the electoral roll, qualified initially as the owner of the farm at Cranbourne, and later as the owner of premises at 59 William Street, Melbourne, that served both as a place of business and a residence. He preferred to describe himself as an importer rather than a farmer, but whatever occupation he followed in Victoria, Andreas would always have a second career as a litigator in the courts, either pursuing debtors or being pursued by creditors. At this time he had two cases in the county court’s £10 jurisdiction: Kevin v Lagogiannis, in which he emerged the victor, and Lagogiannis v Hearndon, where he was unable to make his case, and lost. Early in 1857, the property at Cranbourne was placed on the market. Interested parties were invited to apply to the selling agent, or to ‘Mr Lagogiannis, on the farm’, and were assured that ‘farming implements, dairy utensils, &c, are on the ground, and very little capital will be required, as the terms will be liberal’. Next, Andreas placed a notice in the press advising that ‘all claims against the firm of Musgrove and Lagogiannis, farmers of Newstead Park, near Western Port’ be directed to his accountants, Grundy and Cooke. These were quite ordinary arrangements, but they started an unexpected train of events. Andreas employed Grundy to settle the accounts between him and Musgrove. Grundy’s firm was engaged in this work for about a fortnight and presented him with a bill for £75. Andreas thought the charge too high and refused to pay it. By February he had sold the farm and, with the permission of the purchaser, was camping there in a tent while he removed his goods and chattels. To his surprise, Grundy and a bailiff arrived, accompanied by Musgrove. The three men had come 25 miles from town to arrest Andreas as an absconding debtor. On the representation of the bailiff, Andreas offered Grundy £50 in satisfaction of his claim but Grundy 115

insisted on £65. The bailiff then remained until the following day, when Andreas deposited with him a sum of £85, to be held as security for the claim and costs. Andreas was then left in peace in his tent. However, he later suffered the indignity of being arrested at the insistence of Musgrove who, relying on Grundy’s affidavit, had Andreas sent to gaol for a week. During his imprisonment, judgment went against Andreas by default. To right these injustices, Andreas commenced a legal action against Grundy and Musgrove. His troubles could be traced back to March 1857 when he sold the farm, and in conversation with Anderson, the solicitor for the purchaser, he mentioned that he was going to Calcutta again. When Anderson was later questioned in court on what Andreas actually said about leaving the Colony, he had to admit that his words were ‘when his affairs were settled’, and not, ‘by the first opportunity’. Some evidence was also given to show that the Grundy’s bill was excessive, and it had not escaped notice that when he began the litigation, Andreas paid £35 into court, which the defendant had since taken out in full satisfaction of the debt, an admission that his bill for £75 had been too high. In summing up, the judge told the jury that the right of arresting a defendant as the first step in an action for debt ‘was a very sharp weapon and should be very cautiously used’.5 He told them that if the defendants had been deceptive when they obtained the order to hold Lagogiannis, they would be liable for damages. He also told them to consider whether the plaintiff had been arrested for a greater sum than he really owed, which would entitle him to a further award of damages, ‘for many a man could pay £20, who could not pay £50’. On the first count, Andreas was awarded £25; he also won on the second count, but the award of £1 must have disappointed him. These travails did not prevent Andreas from meeting and forming a relationship that year with a woman named Isabella Perkins. It may be that she was the ‘Mrs Isabella Perkins’ who arrived unaccompanied from New York on the clipper ship Minnehaha in March 1857. A British woman 5 Arrest in an action for debt ceased to be a feature of English law in the late 19th century, along with debtors’ prisons.

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of 35 years, she was of a similar age to Andreas, although she may have preferred to ignore a few of her years. There is no record of a marriage, but a child was born to the couple, and they named her Christina after Andreas’s mother. Sadly, little Christina did not live long, The Argus newspaper of 13 March 1858 reporting that ‘the infant daughter of Andrea and Isabella Lagogiannis’ had died two days before at Napier-street, Collingwood. The tragedy reached new depths 18 days later when Isabella also died. The Argus reported the death of ‘the beloved wife of Andrea Lagogiannis’, and gave her age as 32 years. These events must have taken a toll on Andreas and for the next few years his life seems not to have moved forward very much. His time was taken up with petty disputes in the courts, the nature of which showed that his business interests now included a luggage store or a lodging house, or both. He placed a notice in the press stating, ‘if the luggage and goods stored at No. 48 Elizabeth-street be not cleared within a fortnight, they will be sold, to defray expenses’. It was noted in a court proceeding, also involving luggage, that ‘Andrew Lagogiannis summoned Themis Villier for 15s’, but was ‘nonsuited, failing to satisfy the bench in establishing his claim’. There were also county court cases for amounts under £20. How he fared in them is not reported, but in O’Brien v. Lagogiannis, the bench awarded a verdict against him of £2 9s. Andreas applied at this time to be the licensee of the Forester’s Arms Hotel in Stephen Street but at the City’s quarterly licensing session, held at the police court, a Mr Cookman presented a petition from the ‘inhabitants of the neighborhood’ opposing the licence. The police report was also unfavourable and the application was refused. Any feelings of disappointment that might have assailed him were interrupted by the appearance of a Greek cleric in the person of Thomas Politis, a figure who brought with him a breath of the homeland. The Greek Orthodox Church was yet to be established on the Australian continent, but the Church’s rituals and forms were not completely unknown in its towns and hamlets and goldfield camps. Greek laymen would occasionally 117

baptise infants and see off the dead. Some of them pretended to have the authority of the Church. In a few instances, these and other services were performed by wandering Orthodox monks, such as Thomas Politis, who visited Australia in 1862 and met Andreas and Athanas Lagogiannis. After his return to Greece the following year, he mentioned them in a letter to the Archbishop of Athens as ‘two men named Lagoyiannis from Patras’. Politis wrote to the Synod of the Church of Greece, asking that a priest be sent to Melbourne and made the case to the Archbishop, who showed some interest in the continent of ‘New Holland’ but did not take up Politis’ suggestions. The Greeks of the Antipodes would wait another 35 years for a priest to be sent among them. In November 1862, Andreas embarrassed himself in the district court with an ill-considered claim for damages against William Lloyd, the employee of a shopkeeper who had sued Andreas successfully for goods supplied to him. Andreas had later gone to the shop and made some offensive remarks to Lloyd who responded by knocking off Andreas’s hat. For this assault, the court awarded Andreas the derogatory sum of one shilling in damages and 2s. 6d. costs. Eventually, life for Andreas took a turn for the better. He met Carolina, a German girl some 20 years younger than himself who worked as a nurse for a Melbourne doctor. A month before Christmas 1862, they were married by license at Trinity Anglican Church, Sandridge, by the Rev. F.C. Platts. The press notices reported the union of ‘Mr Andrew Lagogiannis, of Patras, late of Calcutta, at present of Penlington-terrace, Sandridge’, and his bride ‘Johanna Wilhelmina Carolina, youngest daughter of Herr Frantz Wentolin Kretzschmann, of Heidelberg, Germany’. The fates smiled on Andreas when a few weeks later the Sandridge magistrates granted him a victualler’s licence for the Happy Home Hotel, a brick building with five bedrooms and four sitting rooms, situated in Nott street. Sandridge was the low strip of coast at the head of Hobsons Bay, where the Yarra River met the sea. Named for the prominent dunes near the river, much of it was marshland or prone to flooding. The waters of 118

the Bay, a saltwater lagoon, and the bush stretching back from the beach, had sustained the Boonwurrung Aboriginal people for thousands of years. Ships dropped anchor there and their passengers and crews came ashore at the pier and made their way north to Emerald Hill and then on to the Yarra River where they crossed over into Melbourne. Sandridge grew rapidly after 1851 with the great influx of people hoping to make their fortunes on the Victorian goldfields. It was made a borough in 1860 and would eventually acquire the new name of Port Melbourne. Andreas’s establishment, with its location on Nott Street, was well placed to gather custom from the procession of travellers between city and port. Through its doors came men like Konstantine, a ‘steady and respectable young man’ who advertised his desire for ‘a situation in an hotel, or elsewhere, as generally useful’; or the new arrival Vincenzo, who placed a notice in the newspaper hoping it would be seen by his brother Francesco, and that he would send him his address. Some months later, Andreas was again embroiled in litigation. The Age newspaper reported that ‘Andrea Lagogianis, publican at Sandridge’ – he was described as an ‘Italian’ by The Argus – was summoned by Dr George Thomas, of Little Lonsdale street, Melbourne, to recover the sum of £9 19s. for medical attendance upon his wife. The Age reported that ‘the evidence disclosed most disgusting profligacy’, but after exciting the interest of readers with this comment, the paper failed to throw any light on the nature of the ‘profligacy’ or the manner in which it might be ‘disgusting’. It seems the proceedings in Thomas v Lagogiannis were deemed to be unfit for publication and held in large part behind closed doors. There was an adjournment to a later date for further medical evidence, and when it resumed, the case had been reduced to an argument over £3 3s., the part of the doctor’s bill yet to be paid. It was reported that Lagogiannis was in attendance at the resumed hearing and represented by a Mr Read, who promised to show the court that the statements made by Dr Thomas as to the condition of Lagogiannis and his wife ‘were false in fact’. He then called as a witness a medical man, Dr Crooke, whose evidence contradicted 119

that earlier given by Dr Thomas, with the result that case was dismissed with an award of £3 3s. to Lagogiannis. A cage on the verandah of the Happy Home Hotel was the home of one of the Lagogiannis’s pets, a small black and green parrot with a reddish breast. It was a very good talker and Andreas and Carolina must have missed its friendly chatter when it was stolen one day in September 1864. Perhaps it was taken by the same thief who came a few weeks later, during the night, and stole a white antimacassar and a red and blue silk handkerchief containing some two and a half yards of shepherd’s plaid material intended for a pair of trousers and a vest. Greeks coming to Melbourne, on learning that one of their countrymen kept a hotel there, naturally gravitated to the place. Lagogiannis was no doubt pleased to greet his patriotes, to hear news of home from those who had recently arrived, and to share a glass of ouzo and a meal. But not all of his associations with Greeks were pleasant ones. In the police court once more, Andreas summoned Achilles Crusos for an assault and abusive language. He complained that Crusos had come to his premises one evening and annoyed the boarders; the man had seized Carolina by the arm and shook her; and when she ordered him out of the house, he shook his fist in her face and ‘called her opprobrious names’. Crusos pleaded that he was drunk and did not know what he was doing at the time. The newspaper reported that the ‘defendant is a Greek, and it was amusing to see him persist doggedly in pretending not to know English, when it was proved by every witness called in the case that he could speak it fluently’. Crusos was ordered to pay £2 2s. costs, and placed on a bond of £10 to keep the peace for two months. Not long after this, Lagogiannis summoned another Greek, a man named Spiro Williams, for abusive language and assault. Williams was Spiro Kyriakatis, a native of Zakynthos, who had arrived in Melbourne in the 1840s as a youth. The two Greeks had known each other for some years and were bitter enemies. A few weeks before, Williams had made application to the Sandridge magistrates for a publican’s licence, with the intention of opening his home to trade under the name Ionian Wine Vaults. 120

Williams’ premises were situated in the same street as Lagogiannis’s Happy Home boarding house. Andreas may have lodged an objection, or perhaps he encouraged the opposition of local householders. In any event, Williams’ application was refused. One afternoon, Lagogiannis was passing Spiro Williams’ house when Williams and his wife were on the verandah. It was reported in a newspaper that ‘some disgusting language was used by the defendant to Lagogiannis, and a general quarrel ensued. The complainant seized a spade to defend himself, but Williams took it from him and struck him several times’. The charge of assault was dismissed, but Spiro Williams was placed on a bond of £25 to keep the peace for four months. The following year, Williams renewed his application for a publican’s licence and was successful. By early 1865, Andreas and Carolina Lagogiannis were no longer content with the limitations of their house in Nott Street. Andreas applied to the Sandridge magistrates for a publican’s licence for premises situated on Bay Street. The location was much superior as it fronted the main thoroughfare of Sandridge and stood close to the town pier. The new premises, for which Andreas had already taken a lease, comprised two storeys with numerous rooms, and were much grander than the Happy Home, having been constructed at great cost near the height of the gold rush in the ‘best Brunswick brick’. There was also a large yard that could accommodate horses and carriages. Andreas and Carolina would conduct the business as the Chusan Hotel, the name given to it in 1853 by its original owners, the Liardet brothers. The name was inspired by the P & O Co.’s Chusan, a beautifully proportioned, sail-and-steam iron ship that first called at Melbourne in 1852. The Chusan Hotel was an undertaking normally beyond the reach of a man like Andreas Lagogiannis, but a fire and other troubles had caused it to be declared insolvent in 1864. Andreas saw an opportunity and must have presented himself as the man to set things right. However, any sense of euphoria he may have felt in the new situation was soon dispelled by the pressures of business life. There was trouble with the hotel renovations, and 121

Andreas had to place a notice in the press warning the builder, ‘unless you finish the contract entered into with me for repairing the Chusan Hotel, by the 1st of April next, I will have the work done otherwise at your risk and responsibility’. Attending once more at the Sandridge police court, he defended a summons for detention of goods. Michael Allison had rented a room in Andreas’s house and left his property there. A dispute arose as to the terms, and Andreas had held on to the goods as security for payment. The court, however, found against him, and he was ordered to deliver up the goods. In April 1865, Andreas and Carolina’s life together was marked by a melancholy event. It was recorded in a notice in the Births column of The Age newspaper, which stated: ‘Lagogiannis. – On the 7th inst., at the Chusan Hotel, Sandridge, – the wife of Mr Andrea Lagogiannis, of a daughter, stillborn’. The notice also stated, ‘Mother doing well’. It was a bitter blow and Carolina and Andreas must have taken some time to recover. By June, the couple’s spirits had lifted sufficiently for them to consider a belated celebration for the opening of their new hotel. However, the occasion was spoiled by the police and yet another appearance by Andreas at the Sandridge court, where he was charged with selling spirits at one o’clock on a Sunday morning. The Age reported: It appears that the defendant opened his house for the first time last Saturday, and, in honour of the event, gave a free supper to his friends and customers. The harmony of the evening was kept up until the early hour at which he was charged with selling spirits, when two constables, going in, found a number of persons seated with drink before them, and the wife of the landlord engaged in drawing more. For the defence it was stated that nothing had been sold after twelve, and whatever was supplied was free. The magistrate, under the circumstances, dismissed the case. 122

Andreas could be forgiven if he resented this boorish intrusion by the police. It may have contributed to his appearance again at the police court a couple of months later, when he was fined 40s. and 5s. costs for using abusive language to Constable Keys. Among Carolina’s possessions, and apparently much valued, was a brass-bound album, brown in colour, with clasps, gilt edges and a blue silk velvet cover. Its first page was marked ‘J.W.C. Lagogiannis’ and it contained 33 pictures. Someone stole it from the Chusan Hotel early in October and Andreas offered a reward of £5 ‘on conviction of the thief’, but there is no mention of its recovery or a conviction. In November, Andreas had to attend the police court in the city in the case of a lodger named Colin Dick, a lad of 16 years or so. In paying Andreas what he owed, Dick had given him a cheque drawn on his former employers, merchants Bligh and Harbottle of Flinders Lane, telling him to take from it the amount due and return the rest. On presenting the cheque Andreas learned it was a forgery. Some months passed before Andreas was at the police court again, this time back at Sandridge, where he was fined 10s. for permitting two pigs to wander. A further appearance at the court was equally unrewarding: he had tried to recover £13 10s. in rent by having one of his waiters seize a cab he thought belonged to the debtor, but his hopes of payment were lost in a maze of legal argument. His wandering pigs, now joined by some goats, earned him another fine near the end of the year. More bad luck, or perhaps carelessness, had also caused him to lose, somewhere between the United States Hotel at Sandridge and the railway pier, a deposit receipt from the Spanish Consul in London for the considerable sum of £83 sterling. But it was not all bad news for Andreas in this period; he must have felt some affirmation of his standing in the community when he was accepted as a member of the Sandridge Marine Lodge of the Freemasons. Later, Andreas fell prey to a confidence man named Frank Hogg, alias Thomas. G. Goding, who came to his hotel posing as a ‘Detective Powell’. He had another man with him who, he said, was a prisoner in his custody. Hogg made a show of restraining and searching his ‘prisoner’ 123

and while doing so cashed a cheque with Andreas for £1. Andreas obliged and saw off the ‘detective’ in a cab to Emerald Hill, only to discover later that the cheque was worthless. Goding also defrauded the cab driver of his 10s fare by paying with a fraudulent order on the detective office. The police soon caught up with this swindler and he was sentenced to a term in prison. In August 1867, the Royal Mail Ship Geelong arrived at Hobson’s Bay carrying among its passengers a man described in the shipping notices as ‘a Greek priest from Bombay’. After disembarking at the Sandridge pier, with his distinctive black garb no doubt attracting much attention, this gentleman made his way to the Chusan Hotel where Andreas and Carolina made him welcome. Their guest was the Greek Orthodox monk Christophoros, a deacon at the monastery Aisfygmenou, on Mount Athos. He was about 34 years of age and was originally from Corfu, where he had been baptised as ‘Khristoforos Arsenios’. His mission, which had taken him on extensive travels throughout the East, was to collect money for the support of ‘free schools, asylums and orphanages at Jerusalem’, and he had come to Victoria to continue his work there. He might also have mentioned that some of the money he collected was destined for building works at his monastery on Mount Athos. After meeting with Greeks established in and around Melbourne, Christophoros moved on to the central goldfields in search of more Greeks, or indeed anyone, who might respond to his charitable appeals. Wherever he went he performed Greek Orthodox rites as required – baptising infants, and often their mothers as well, confirming in the Greek Church those raised as Protestants, sometimes conducting a funeral. His presence was noticed by the press, The Star at Ballarat reporting: There is now in Sandhurst [Bendigo] a priest of the Greek Church, who has lately arrived in the Colony. This gentleman’s name is Christophers, and his dress is so much like that worn by the rabbis of the Jewish church that he would be mistaken 124

for a rabbi. It is understood that the reverend gentleman has come direct from Jerusalem on a visit to the members of the Greek communion, with a view of building a church in Melbourne. Some weeks later, after visiting Ballarat and other places, Christophoros returned to Sandridge and again enjoyed the hospitality of the Chusan Hotel. There, Andreas helped him to communicate his message to the press and the public. The Age reported: The charities at Jerusalem for which Mr Christopher appeals are, we believe, open to the natives of all countries and the adherents of every form of religion. He has made a tour of the Colony since his arrival, and has met with great encouragement to the carrying out of his designs. The members of the Greek Church in this Colony are, it seems, numerous enough to demand the opening of a church where they can exercise the worship of their religion, and it is contemplated to erect an edifice with as little delay as possible, either at Melbourne or Sandridge. The newspaper also noted that ‘a meeting to discuss the matter was held a few days ago at Mr Lagogiannis’s Chusan Hotel, Sandridge’. Greeks from Ballarat and other places attended this meeting and, according to The Age, ‘A committee was appointed to act with Father Christopher, and a petition drawn up to the Patriarch of Jerusalem, soliciting his concurrence and assistance, and praying him to nominate a priest for permanent ministration in Victoria.’ The paper concluded, ‘The members of the Greek Church are the only religious body in the Colony who are destitute of a place of worship of their own’. The article in The Age was followed up with an advertisement probably crafted with Andreas’s assistance:

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The undersigned respectfully solicits from the benevolent contributions in aid of the Orphanages, Asylums, and Free Schools in Jerusalem, which have been for centuries maintained in connexion with the Orthodox Eastern Church. These institutions, which extend their benefits regardless of country and creed, exist in the midst of an extremely poor community, and are entirely supported by voluntary donations. The advertisement went on to advise that ‘Subscriptions may be paid into the National Bank of Australasia, and the P. and O. Company’s office’, and were authorised in the name of ‘Rev. Father Christopher, Priest, Orthodox Eastern Church. Residence, Chusan Hotel, Sandridge’. However, as with the efforts of the monk Thomas Politis five years before, these attempts to formally establish the Greek Church in Australia would come to nothing. In late October, Christophoros bid his hosts ‘adio’ and travelled up the coast on the Kiama steamer. He arrived in Sydney on the 25th, where he met with Greeks of the ‘mother colony’ and sought their contributions to the charities he represented, although his presence there was not noticed in the press. From Sydney, Christophoros made his way north to the new Colony of Queensland, where he met the Greek-speaking Governor, Sir George Ferguson Bowen. Christophoros continued north and by 16 January 1868 he was in Clermont enjoying the hospitality of Spiridion and Emma Candiottis. The monk was much impressed by Dr Candiottis – whose personal wealth he put far above any rational assessment – and he would later suggest that Candiottis should be appointed Consul for Greece even though the doctor lived in an impossibly remote part of Australia. Andreas Lagogiannis was situated at Melbourne’s door but the idea of appointing him to such an office seems to have been discounted. Queen Victoria’s second son, Prince Alfred Duke of Edinburgh, was to arrive at Hobsons Bay on 23 November 1867 aboard HMS Galatea. It would be the first visit to the Colony by a member of the Royal family, 126

making it an event of great magnitude. The Royal procession was to pass along Bay Street, right in front of the Chusan Hotel, and Andreas expected a huge crowd and a good profit. He placed an advertisement inviting offers to set up and operate a stand accommodating some 250 people. A week later, as the finishing touches were being made to this structure, Andreas advertised again, promising a ‘capital view of the Bay and passing of the Prince’. The Chusan’s ‘commodious windows’ were also made available to spectators and interested parties were encouraged to apply early. As the great day approached, masses of bunting transformed Sandridge into a spectacle to behold. The effect was heightened with each hour, as cartloads of evergreens were brought in to festoon the houses. The Age also reported that ‘an unlimited number of paper flowers’ had been made by the women of the district for further ornamentation. Tall poles trimmed with ferns and shrubs stood at the street crossings and were strung with lines bearing hundreds of flags and, outside the borough chambers and police court, there stood a fine arch decorated with flowers. The newspaper made particular mention of the hotels: ‘One of the most notable features in Bay-street was Mr Sharp’s Ship Hotel, which from the roof to the basement was dressed in evergreens and flowers, executed with considerable taste and regard to effect. The Chusan Hotel and Mr Cohn’s Hotel were also prettily dressed out in evergreens, and presented a very gay appearance’. The correspondent for Bell’s Life In Victoria waxed lyrical: Sandridge cannot, as a rule, be considered a lively place. On Saturdays and holidays the pier is occasionally pretty well filled by promenaders, seeking either pleasure boats or fresh air, but on ordinary work days Sandridge is not the place likely to be visited by any-one on the lookout for amusement or excitement; a place, in fact, rather to be avoided than sought; a place where the railway clerk is even more than usually morose, and the flirtations of the barmaid are few and monotonous [but] on Saturday flags were flying in the 127

streets, eager faces looked out from doors and windows, while from the bars and taprooms of the maritime publics came the sound of fiddles and the shuffling of nautical boots. … Jack, the abnormal inhabitant of Sandridge, was enjoying himself. All that morning, boats were leaving the Sandridge railway pier carrying ‘immense crowds’ and with bands playing on their decks. They steamed across Port Phillip Bay to the Heads to meet the Galatea and escort her in. It was late in the day before the booming salute of the Sandridge batteries announced at last the Galatea’s appearance at Hobson’s Bay. Soon the Prince’s cortège of sixteen carriages and his light horse escort left the pier and passed slowly along Beach Street to the delight of the cheering masses on each side. The procession rounded the corner into Bay Street and was met by a great roar from the crowd lining the roadway and packed into stands like the one at the Chusan Hotel. Near the United States Hotel, the cortège passed beneath an arch of flags, and approaching Holy Trinity church it met a triumphal arch, emblazoned on one side with the words ‘Sandridge greets our Naval Prince!’ and on the other, ‘Welcome, Prince Alfred!’ Noting the evergreens and flags and the crown suspended from its centre, Bell’s Life commended the design and planning of this ‘much admired’ feature. Passing beneath the arch and moving on towards the Ship Inn and the courthouse, Prince Alfred and his retinue reached the border of Sandridge and were soon gone into the neighbouring borough of Emerald Hill. Considering the disasters that would accompany his progress through the Australian colonies – riots, fires, accidental deaths and an attempted assassination – Sandridge was fortunate to see off the Prince without incident. On a Monday in the following month, feeling the need to liquidate some of their assets, Andreas and Carolina held an auction at the Chusan Hotel. Their advertisement in the press, addressed to ‘Dealers, Clothiers, Seafarers, Grocers, Butchers, Hotelkeepers, and Others’, declared that their agent, Alfred Cooper, had instructions to sell by auction ‘a quantity of 128

unclaimed sailors’ and passengers’ luggage and boxes, the hotel’s superfluous stock of wines, &c., consisting of hock, claret, sauterne, rum punch, porter, cigars, &c., diverse items including a horse, harness, dogcart, loose box, eight sucking pigs, and two large pigs ready for the butcher’. To this list was added ‘real property in the form of two well-built wooden tenements, now bringing in good rentals, at the corner of Bay and Rouse streets, Sandridge.’ The public was advised that no reserve had been placed on the price of any item, and that the terms were cash. At this time there was another theft from the Chusan Hotel, one that Andreas, and particularly Carolina, must have felt keenly. The press notice stated: ‘Forty Shillings Reward – Stolen, or Strayed, a white French Poodle Dog. The above reward will be paid on conviction of the thief or 5s. if strayed.’ An entry in the Police Gazette mentioned that the dog was small, about ten months old, and was named ‘Swiper’. In August 1868, Andreas took Mr Wigley, a solicitor, to court for assault. He claimed that Wigley owed him £2 2s. and his repeated requests for payment had been ignored. Andreas at last took out a summons for the debt but, rather unwisely, he called at Mr Wigley’s office to serve it on him in person. According to Andreas, Wigley took the document and hit him over the face with it three times, and then grabbed him by the shoulders, intending to throw him out of his office. In the court proceedings, two of Mr Wigley’s clerks were called as witnesses for the defence and they denied that the defendant struck Lagogiannis in the face; however, they did admit that Wigley laid hands on him, and also that he called Lagogiannis by an insulting name. The bench imposed a paltry fine of 2s. 6d. with 10s. 6d. costs. Later, however, Andreas had the satisfaction of suing Wigley successfully for the money owing to him, and also defeating the solicitor in a suit he brought against Andreas for payment of legal fees. On 11 September 1868, Athanas Lagogiannis died. He had travelled up to Sydney on the coastal steamer and was on the return voyage to Melbourne when he suddenly passed away. The shipping columns of The Argus reported the arrival of the Wonga Wonga at Hobson’s Bay on 129

12 September and listed the saloon passengers including, ‘A. Lagogiannis (mort)’ and immediately following, the name, ‘F. Lagogiannis’. The death notice placed in The Argus a couple of days later informed the public that Athanas was 44 years of age, and had died of heart disease. It was also mentioned that he came from Patras in Greece and was brother to Andreas. The funeral notice in the same newspaper stated: ‘The Friends of Mr Andrea Lagogiannis are respectfully invited to follow the remains of his late brother, Anthonas [Athanas] Lagogiannis, to the place of interment, in the Melbourne General Cemetery. The funeral to move from his residence, Chusan Hotel, Sandridge.’ Andreas placed a stone on his brother’s grave, and had it inscribed with the words, ‘Sacred to the memory of Athanas Lagogiannis who died on his passage from Sydney 11 Sep 1868 age 44 yrs.’ There was no further mention of ‘F. Lagogiannis’, who was reported to be travelling with Athanas aboard the Wonga Wonga when he died. In December 1868 Andreas was at the court at Sandridge once more, charged with selling liquor in his hotel outside the permitted hours. The police were unable to prove the charge and the case was dismissed. Early in the new year, there was more distress for Andreas and Carolina when another pet dog, the replacement for the stolen ‘Swiper’, was likewise stolen from their hotel. It was a small white poodle bitch, with a yellow spot on the back, a white nose and red eyes. The little dog had been taught to beg and was named ‘Fanny’. In the same month, Lagogiannis became involved in yet another case before the Sandridge magistrates. He had recently extended his premises and opened two new bars for the sale of liquor. One of the bars was on the opposite side of the hotel yard, and the second was in an adjoining building which had recently been erected. William Cruikshank, the inspector from the Sandridge Borough Council, told Lagogiannis to take out a licence for the new bars, or else to stop selling liquor from them. He had not complied with this direction and a meeting of the council decided to test the legality of his conduct in court. The case of Cruikshank v Lagogiannis elucidated principles of some importance, as The Argus newspaper reported: 130

In the Sandridge Police Court yesterday Andrea Lagogiannis, landlord of the Chusan Hotel, was summoned by the borough inspector for selling liquor in a building detached from his licensed premises. It appears that in his efforts to compete with the threepenny houses in the neighbourhood, he erected a small wooden building on a part of the ground leased by him, which he opened as a threepenny tap. It was separated from the main building by the entrance-gate to the yard. Although this tap had been opened for some months prior to the last licensing day there was no objection made to it. He had been brought before the Court over this matter at the direction of the Borough Council, one member of which, Councillor Swallow, was sitting on the bench. For Lagogiannis, it was argued that the licence was for the house and premises, and it covered the new tap as it was on the premises. The magistrates, after visiting the premises, were of opinion that as the tap was not erected at the time of granting, or mentioned in, the original licence, it was not covered by that licence. Some days later The Argus reported that the case had been decided in accordance with the opinion already expressed by the bench and Andreas was fined £5 and £3 3s. costs, but The Argus noticed the conflict of interest inherent in Councillor Swallow sitting on the bench and hearing the case, and commented, ‘It would have been in better taste if members of the borough council had refrained from adjudicating upon a complaint lodged by one of their own officers’. The Argus on Monday 23 May 1870 carried a letter from Lagogiannis in which he continued to argue his case. The language used, which included expressions such as, ‘appurtenances thereunto belonging’, shows that it was penned by his lawyer. With this letter Andreas probably made some powerful enemies: 131

To The Editor of The Argus. Sir, It is with reluctance that I write you upon the subject of a decision given in any cause in which I happen to be one of the parties: but in a case adjudicated upon in the Sandridge Police-court on Thursday last, I feel myself so arbitrarily treated that I must plead this as an apology for begging a small space in your columns. I was summoned for selling spirituous liquors in a bar erected on a piece of land at the side of my hotel. The facts of the case are shortly as follows: My original licence was granted in 1865. In 1868 my landlord added a piece of ground at the side of the hotel. In September, 1869, I erected upon this piece of ground the above-mentioned bar, and carried on business therein up to the present time. On the 31st of December last I obtained a renewed licence, which gives me leave to sell in the house, and in the appurtenances thereunto belonging. The hearing of this case was commenced on Monday last, when their worships, Messrs. Mollison and Swallow, were the presiding magistrates, who adjourned the case to the following Thursday. Mr Swallow is a member of the Sandridge Council, and officially interested in the success of the complaint. On Thursday the case was called on again, when their worships, Messrs. Mollison and Johnson, alone presided, and Mr Mollison then directed that the other cases in the list should be heard first, as Mr Swallow had left word with the clerk that he wished to be present at the hearing. Upon the conclusion of the hearing of the arguments on both sides, the bench, after some consultation between their worships (Messrs. Mollison and Swallow), decided against

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me, and inflicted the minimum fine of £5. My attorney asked the bench to increase the fine to £5 5s., as it was a question of law of some importance, so as to give me the right of appeal. To this the bench replied – ‘No; we have considered that before, and refuse to increase the fine.’ This I consider to be an arbitrary denial of justice. Now, Sir, it is not the decision I complain of, but the shutting me out from a right of appeal, and magistrates sitting – as is too commonly the practice – to adjudicate in cases in which they are in any way interested; and I hope that if you think me right in this view of the matter, you will use your pen in condemnation of such action on the part of presiding magistrates. – I am, Sir, your obedient servant, A. LAGOGIANNIS. Chusan Hotel, Sandridge, May 21. Lagogiannis’s lawyer overcame the technical hurdle to his appeal and the case of Lagogiannis v Cruikshank was heard in the supreme court in June 1870 before no less a bench of judges than Sir W.F. Stawell the Chief Justice, Mr Justice Barry and Mr Justice Williams. His appeal was allowed with costs, the finding of the court being that the building used as a bar was bona fide a part of the premises for which his last licence was granted. Andreas must have relished this victory but perhaps, like Icarus, he was flying too close to the sun. The following month The Argus newspaper reported that he was charged with permitting women of ill-fame to assemble in his hotel. A police constable named Murray stated at the police court that he went into the Chusan Hotel one night in June, about 30 minutes past midnight, in company with another constable named Dwyer, and saw three women there whom he knew to be improper characters. For Lagogiannis, it was argued that the women conducted themselves properly while in the house; that they merely had a drink at the bar, and after

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staying a few minutes, left the house. The bench, after a short consultation, dismissed the case. In January the following year Lagogiannis was fined £5 for Sunday trading, the bench suggesting that in the future such offences would be much more severely punished, as the Legislature had recently given ‘a very decided expression of opinion on the subject’. Undaunted, Lagogiannis hosted a meeting at the Chusan Hotel in February 1871 which The Age newspaper described as, ‘large and influential’. The discussion centred on the Wines, Beer, and Spirits Sale Statute Amendment Bill, 1870, and how clauses in this legislation, ‘obnoxious to the trade’, might be removed. Lagogiannis was one of several speakers who called on the hotel trade to take action, ‘as they had been denied justice by the late Parliament’. Resolutions were carried opposing provisions in the legislation that would licence grocers to sell wines, beer, and spirits and thereby expose ‘licensed victuallers to unjust and ruinous competition’, and which ‘tended to general sly-grog selling, to the detriment of public revenue’. The meeting also expressed support for limited Sunday trading by hotels, and the supply of refreshments to travellers on that day. As part of their campaign, the publicans of Sandridge sold alcohol at their establishments one Sunday in defiance of the trading prohibition. They were brought before the local police court the next day. John Braithwaite of the Commercial Hotel was summoned for selling a glass of ale to Constable White, but it was shown that the police had the wrong man, as George Braithwaite was the holder of the licence, causing that case to be dismissed. There was no such excuse for John McCulloch of the Royal Hotel, William Reynolds, of the Bay View Hotel, Andreas Lagogiannis of the Chusan Hotel, John Bell of the Pier Hotel, or Henry O’Brien of the Ship Inn, and all of them were fined. The magistrate observed that much had been said about the police being common informers, and doing their best to entrap publicans. He said they ‘were not common informers in any sense, but men doing their duty in enforcing the law. Unpleasant duties fell to the lot of both the magistrates and the police.’ 134

In March 1871, Lagogiannis was summoned to the Sandridge police court again. The evidence against him was that on a Sunday of that month, Constable Bergin of the police went into the Chusan Hotel and there found men drinking in breach of the Sunday trading prohibition. Lagogiannis’s defence was that one of his boarders had asked the men, who were his friends, into the house, and had requested the landlord to give them the drinks, which they were enjoying when the policeman came in. It was argued that a resident of his house, like the boarder in question, had a common law right of domicile to give his friends drink. The magistrates thought enough of the point to refer it to the Crown law officers for an opinion. When the court sat again the following week, it held, in accordance with the opinion given to it, that Lagogiannis had committed the offence. However, the bench, which comprised the Police Magistrate Mr Mollison and the Mayor, could not agree on the amount of the penalty and so the case fell through. In June 1871, Andreas was again before the police court, this time for allowing a room in his hotel to be used for concerts. Two constables had entered the premises and saw that ‘persons with blackened faces, dressed up in nigger costume, were singing and dancing in a room’. The case was dismissed on a technicality, the summons failing to state that permission from a magistrate had not been obtained for the performance. However, the decision came with an ominous warning from Police Magistrate Mollison, who said that but for this objection there would have been no option but to cancel Lagogiannis’s licence. In pressing on with their campaign, three Sandridge publicans were brought before the Sandridge police court in July 1871. They had each permitted a room in their licensed house ‘to be used as a concert room, or similar place of public resort’, contrary to the provisions of the new Wines, Beer and Spirits Statute. Constable Murphy told the court that in the case of the Chusan Hotel, he had gone in on the evening of the 10 May, and saw ‘a kind of Ethiopian entertainment going on in one of the rooms. There was a platform at one end of the room, on which there was some singing and 135

dancing according to the prescribed Ethiopian form’. The court resisted the urge to delve into the prescribed form for Ethiopian singing and dancing, and was reluctant to impose on the three publicans the severe penalty the Act appeared to require – the cancellation of their licences. All three cases were dismissed, again on the technical ground that the summonses failed to state that the permission of a magistrate for the performances had not been obtained. Lagogiannis was now feeling some financial stress due to the burden of his frequent court appearances and the fines imposed on him. The proof of it was a notice in The Argus on 24 July 1871, advertising an auction of the contents of the Chusan Hotel, ‘under distraint for rent’. The auction, which was to be conducted by Naylor and Company at the Chusan the same day, offered under a bill of sale the Lagogiannis’s ‘superior furniture, fittings and effects’, together with the hotel’s ‘unexpired term of licence’. Andreas and Carolina’s prized possessions were listed: mahogany and cedar chairs in leather and hair, cedar chiffonnières and gilt pier glasses, oil paintings and engravings, tapestry carpets and hearth rugs, brass and iron tubular fourpost bedsteads, marble-top washstands, cedar tables and chests of drawers and a rosewood grand pianoforte. Also listed was a three-pull Stocker’s patent beer engine and a five-pull beer-engine from the bars, together with their with taps and piping; perhaps most painful to Andreas was the offer of his full-size Alcock billiard table. Fortunately, some accommodation with the landlord was made and the auction did not proceed. The Sandridge publicans could see now that their continued flouting of the terms of the statute would lose them their licences and they stopped providing musical entertainments. All except Lagogiannis, who doggedly persisted with his war against the laws regulating hotels, and against his tormentors: the borough council, the police and the magistrates at the Sandridge court. It may have been poor judgement – a weakness of his – but perhaps he also failed to understand the culture of the place to which he had come. He was raised in Greece where wine and spirits were not regarded as a social evil but as a natural complement to food, and there 136

was nothing like the temperance movement that operated in Her Majesty’s Colony of Victoria. Nor were harmless entertainments viewed with such suspicion. In Greece there were laws and regulations to be observed, but their enforcement was more relaxed. In September 1871, Lagogiannis found himself again before the Sandridge police court. It was sitting as a licensing bench, with the Police Magistrate, Mr Mollison, presiding. Andreas was charged with permitting a room in his house to be used as a concert-room contrary to the provisions of the Wines, Beer, and Spirits statute. It was reported in The Argus that Sergeant Jones of the police, ‘went into the hotel on the evening of the 10th inst., and in a room behind the bar he found a man playing a piano and another, singing. The persons thus employed appeared to be sailors, and there were about 20 other persons in the room.’ Several witnesses were called for Lagogiannis, who stated that they were in the habit of playing the piano in the public room, and sometimes singing for their own amusement, that no persons were ever paid for playing or singing, and no charge was made for admission, nor were those who came into the room expected to drink. The newspaper noted, ‘Most of the witnesses called were foreigners, lodging in the house.’ However, the bench considered that a concert had been held, and withdrew Lagogiannis’ licence. He gave notice that he would appeal. Andreas’s appeal – Lagogiannis v. Mollison – was heard by the court of general sessions on 2 October 1871 before a bench chaired by Justice Cope. It was argued by Mr Dunne, who appeared for Mollison and the Crown, that there was no provision for appeals in the Wines, Beer, and Spirits statute, under which the decision was given. Mr Smith, for Lagogiannis, countered that under the Justices of Peace statute an appeal was allowed in all cases where the penalty amounted to more than £5 in value and that Lagogiannis’s forfeited licence was worth more than £5. Mollison’s lawyer argued that the licence ‘could not be accounted of money value’, but Justice Cope considered that it could, and it was decided that a case should be stated to the supreme court for the Crown on this point. 137

Lagogiannis’s conviction by the Sandridge police court would be quashed if the supreme court decided the issue according to the view argued by his counsel. The general sessions then adjourned without setting a date for a resumed hearing. It was not a good outcome for Andreas because, even if a favourable decision could be obtained from the supreme court, it would be too late to help him. At the sittings of the Sandridge Licensing Bench held in December, licences were granted for some 40 to 50 hotels within the borough. Lagogiannis applied for the renewal of his licence for the Chusan Hotel, which had been forfeited at the last licensing meeting because of his permitting, in the words of The Age newspaper, ‘concerts of the free and easy type’. He proceeded as if his appeal against the forfeiture of his licence had been allowed, and applied to have the licence renewed. The Age reported that the Police Magistrate, Mr Mollison, informed Lagogiannis that the Sandridge bench, ‘never received any official notification of the result of the appeal’. The bench ‘consequently did not recognise it and refused the application for a renewal of the licence’. Lagogiannis continued trading at the Chusan, apparently selling liquor without a licence well into the new year. He was soon before the Sandridge police court again, where his bête noire, Mollison, was again presiding. The police knew that Lagogiannis was selling liquor and set about proving it. They employed a man named Hendrick Jonssen to go into his premises one day in January to purchase a bottle of spirits, giving him 5 shillings to pay for it. Jonssen went into the Chusan and returned with a bottle of ‘Old Tom’ gin, and 1s., 6d. change. A constable had been sent to watch Jonssen to see that he did not go into any other place to get spirits, but the constable did not actually see him buy the gin in the Chusan or pay for it. Jonssen had since disappeared and the police were unable to find him. Without his testimony there was not enough evidence to convict Lagogiannis and the case was dismissed, although not without a gratuitous comment from Mollison that the police had ‘done right’ in taking the proceedings. There was a further case against Lagogiannis, requiring him to show 138

cause why a quantity of liquor seized by the police on his unlicensed premises should not be forfeited. Testimony was given that the hotel bar was open at the time, a barmaid was in attendance, and the beer-engines were charged with beer. Mr Windsor, the lawyer who appeared for Lagogiannis, tried to prove that the liquor was not the property of his client, and that it belonged to the brewing company that supplied it under a bill of sale. However, as this document was not produced in court, the bench held that the defence was not made out, and the goods must be forfeited and sold with the proceeds applied according to law. Not long after, the Melbourne Herald reported that ‘a rather novel sale’ was to take place at the Sandridge lock-up: ‘About 230 gallons of various sorts of liquor, valued at something like £100, will be sold by auction by the police. The liquor comprises the entire stock of the Chusan Hotel, Bay-street’. In March 1872, Andreas Lagogiannis made his final appearance before the Sandridge police court. His circumstances by then were much altered. He was described in the press as the ‘late landlord of the Chusan Hotel’, and now, unable to afford legal representation, he appeared before the court ‘as his own lawyer’. A report in The Age referred to him as ‘Lagochy’, a nickname that had not previously been applied to him in the press. He had summoned Mr John Lamb, his successor at the Chusan Hotel, for the value of sundry items which he claimed had been detained, these being ‘a carpet, a cruet stand’ and some other moveables. Among the items were two cats which Lagogiannis told the court were worth £5 each. The Age mocked him: ‘They were, he said, very beautiful cats, not to be equalled in the Colony, and would follow you about anywhere.’ Mr Mollison was presiding again and found against Lagogiannis, ruling that he should have proceeded before the county court. His summons was dismissed and he was ordered to pay three guineas costs. At the end of the next month there appeared, in the list of divorce cases for trial at the supreme court, the case of Lagogiannis v. Lagogiannis. The case was called on early in May 1872, and the barrister who appeared for Andreas, Dr Madden, mentioned that the clergyman who performed the 139

marriage was not in court, but someone had been sent to get him. This led to a sarcastic exchange at the expense of the parties and which was reported in the Melbourne Herald. Mr Justice Barry expressed the hope that the reverend gentleman had not been late at the wedding, to which Dr Madden replied, ‘he believed he was not, but that it seemed it would have been better if he had’. The Argus reported that Andreas was the petitioner in the case, describing him as ‘a Greek, of 51 years of age’, and the respondent, Carolina, as ‘a German aged 31’. It was noted that they were married some 10 years before at Sandridge Trinity Church and had no children then living. The corespondent was Socrates Seizeani, a Greek sailor who had come to Melbourne some time before, bringing letters of introduction to Andreas. He had been unable to find work, so Andreas had employed him as a cook at the Chusan Hotel. Seizeani had later found other employment but he was still residing at the Chusan when the matrimonial offence occurred. According to The Argus, ‘conclusive evidence was adduced that the respondent and the co-respondent, committed adultery in the Albert Hotel, East Melbourne’. The Age put some flesh on the bones of The Argus’s narrative, reporting that towards the end of 1871 Andreas ‘had reason to doubt the fealty of his wife’. In December of that year he found she had gone into Melbourne with Seizeani. ‘He followed them and traced them to the Albert Hotel in Spring-street, where he burst in the door of the room they occupied, and found them undressed together.’ Neither Carolina nor Seizeani were represented in the divorce proceedings, and the decree sought by Andreas was granted. Andreas’s life had reached a low point. He had lost his business and his marriage. He quit Sandridge and considered going further into the city to restore his fortunes. He thought he might open a hotel to be named the ‘Lord Byron’ at the corner of Victoria and Orr Streets, but his application for a licence was refused on the ground that the neighbourhood already had enough public houses. In his 18 years in Australia, Andreas had never ventured any distance inland, but now he decided to strike out for the bush. Braving the cold and the winter rain, he made his way on muddy roads over the Great Dividing 140

Range to try his luck on Victoria’s central goldfields. At Crusoe Gully near the town of Sandhurst – later to be renamed Bendigo – he found a place in the ironbark and box woodlands that seemed to offer some promise. Crusoe was apparently short for Robinson Crusoe, a name said to have been bestowed on the place ‘because it was a long way from anywhere’. In truth, it was not that lonely, being one of a number of Bendigo mining settlements, like Big Hill and Break O’Day, established in the gold rushes of the 1850s. In November 1872, Andreas applied for a publican’s licence for a house of four rooms at Crusoe, and in due course it was granted. Near the end of April 1873, he purchased the place and named it the Reservoir View Hotel. The reservoir it overlooked had been officially opened just a week before, and much of the celebrations, and a good deal of eating and drinking, were carried on in a large marquee Andreas erected in the garden of his new hotel. The reservoir formed part of the new water supply scheme for Sandhurst and Castlemaine, built after a drought in 1865 nearly brought the district to a standstill. Now, an admirably designed and engineered system of tunnels and aqueducts was bringing water to Crusoe Gully from the headwaters of the Coliban River and its tributaries, and a vast embankment thrown across the valley between two ranges would soon hold back a sheet of water 80 acres in extent. In May 1873, Andreas made his debut at the court at Sandhurst with the case of Lagogiannis v Hargreaves, winning an order for payment of a considerable sum for board and lodging and for costs. Further cases in the court followed, showing that the Reservoir View Hotel was enjoying custom, even if some of the customers were not inclined to pay. Andreas also had a shop on the premises that gave him another stream of income. Things appeared to be going well for Andreas, but in March 1875 he considered selling his hotel and returning to Greece. His notice in the newspaper described the Reservoir View Hotel as ‘the most picturesque spot on Bendigo’, and assured interested parties that for an ‘enterprising person with small capital, there is a sure fortune in this property, which will 141

be disposed of at a very low figure in consequence of the proprietor leaving for Europe’. However, Andreas did not sell up and leave for Greece. Perhaps there were no buyers; perhaps he just changed his mind; or perhaps it was because this was the moment when Carolina came back into his life. In time, Andreas mended his finances and recovered his social standing to the point where he could think of making beneficent gestures, such as the donation of silver cups for the winners of races on the Crusoe Reservoir, one for model yachts, and another for sculling. The Argus in Melbourne, perhaps remembering ‘Lagochy’ and his Chusan days, was scornful of his first silver cup race, reporting that ‘owing to the meagre attendance and paucity of entries, the event did not come off’, and adding, ‘Mr Lagogiannis, the gentleman who provided the prizes, was disappointed’. However, the local paper, the Bendigo Advertiser, was more generous: ‘after a well-contested race Mr Stevens’s Foam came in an easy victor, Mr Stevenson’s Phantom being a good second. Owing to the very light wind the sailing races were not concluded till nightfall, and the rowing matches could not therefore come off. They will be run off at an early day.’ The report concluded: ‘The silver cup and salver presented by Mr Lagogiannis, of Crusoe Gully, were handed over to Mr Stevens, the winner, by Mr Mackay, M.L.A., with some appropriate remarks. Some of the models displayed great taste and skill in their construction and might furnish a hint or two to yachtsmen.’ The sculling race for Lagogiannis’s second silver cup was run a week later with four rowers competing and a man named Gillott taking the prize. Country life at Crusoe Gully wakened in Andreas old interests from Greece. Mulberry trees grew in his large garden and their leaves were fed to silkworms. Later, a visitor, impressed with their apparently healthy condition, would remark, ‘Mr Lagogiannis, a Greek, and well acquainted with the proper method of feeding and rearing the silkworm, says that one acre of white mulberry trees would feed enough worms to yield a profit of £200 a year’. Andreas was also showing an interest in vine growing, having no doubt noticed that the climate and soils of the goldfields region might produce good wines; he would later join the district’s vinegrowers’ 142

association and take up a crown land selection of 319 acres in the mallee country at Kerang. But for Lagogiannis, life was never plain sailing, and in September 1877 this proved true once more when the Reservoir View Hotel burned down. It was not a mortal blow, however, and he put the property up for sale, asking £200 for what was left: ‘that picturesque site and magnificent garden known as the Reservoir View Hotel, Crusoe Gully, together with four fine boats, furniture, and garden implements’. He also applied for and received a replacement for his burned publican’s licence. By the end of 1877, Lagogiannis had sold his property and transferred his publican’s licence to a new hotel in the centre of Sandhurst. His notice in the newspaper had a mildly self-congratulatory air: Freemasons’ Hotel, Pall Mall – Mr A. Lagogiannis has the pleasure to intimate to his Friends and the Public generally that he has taken the above hotel, and respectfully solicits their patronage. Superior Board and Residence at reasonable charges. Wines and Spirits, etc., best quality. Billiards. In rising to the position of host at the Freemasons’ Hotel, Andreas had ascended several rungs of the ladder in one move. Although a little run down, Freemasons’ was a well-established house situated within view of the post office and the courthouse. It was on Pall Mall, the finest commercial thoroughfare in the town. The name came with the hotel and Andreas would have thoroughly approved of it – he was, after all, a freemason. In the following year, Lagogiannis completed a renovation at the Freemasons’ which he advertised as ‘thorough’ and ‘regardless of cost’. The ‘spacious apartments’ had been refitted, and the place made into ‘a comfortable home for families, country visitors, and commercial men’. Moderate charges were promised, along with a fine table and the best wines. The announcement in the newspaper added a note of sophistication with its mention of languages spoken at the hotel: ‘on parle Francais, ci 143

parla Italiano’. Significantly, to these phrases were added the words ‘wir Deutsch gesprochen’, confirming that Andreas and Carolina were together again, the reconciliation having taken place earlier at Crusoe Gully. 1878 was a good year for Andreas and Carolina, or ‘Caroline’ as she now preferred to be known. The application for 319 acres of crown land at Kerang was granted; and the court renewed the hotel’s licence in spite of Andreas’s £1 fine for letting a Saturday night billiards game run over into the Sunday morning. In June the Freemasons’ Hotel was the venue for the annual dinner of the Bendigo Rowing Club, and it was noted that ‘the comestibles were provided by Host Lagogiannis in a manner which reflected the greatest credit on him’. Andreas also donated ‘a handsome silver cup’ for a pair-oared race rowed by members of the club over 40 years of age. At the Sandhurst Industrial Exhibition to be held the following year, one of the exhibits would be the model sailing yacht, Foam, famous for winning the first silver cup donated by Lagogiannis for the race on the Crusoe Reservoir in 1876. If 1878 was a good year, 1879 was not. The opening months were marred by an accident when one of the Freemasons’ guests managed to sleepwalk from his upstairs bedroom onto the verandah and plunge into the street. This gentleman was later said to be lying in a precarious condition in the hospital. But Lagogiannis’s health by this time was also precarious, so much so that his time as host at the Freemasons’ Hotel was fast coming to a close. Near the end of June, Andreas transferred his publican’s licence to Mr Walter Cullingford, and just three days later he was dead. The Bendigo Advertiser acknowledged his passing with a death notice that was remarkable for its brevity: ‘On the 27th June, at the Freemasons’ Hotel, Pall Mall, Andrea Lagogiannis, aged 58’. The Sandhurst correspondent of The Argus in Melbourne was more expansive, reporting that ‘Mr A. Lagogiannis, late landlord of the Freemasons’ Hotel, Pall Mall, died yesterday afternoon from a combination of long standing complaints. The deceased, who was 58 years of age, leaves a widow to mourn his loss’. The Age added that Andreas had ‘died from consumption 144

and heart disease’ from which he had been ‘ailing for nearly twelve months past’, and also mentioned that he was a member of the masonic order. No funeral notice appeared in the press and, if the editor of the Bendigo Advertiser had not briefly mentioned it in his paper, Andreas’s friends might not have known that he was to be buried the next day at three o’clock in the afternoon. There would be no stone to mark his grave and nor was there any mention of a will but it is safe to assume that his estate found its way to his sorrowing widow. A few months after Andreas’s death we find Caroline applying to the Licensing Board at Kerang for a publican’s licence for a house with six guest-rooms, situated at Barr Creek, her application being granted in December 1879. In his five years at the Reservoir View Hotel, Andreas had time to rebuild his finances, and his renovation of the Freemasons’ Hotel should have assured a good price when the lease and the business were sold, leading one to expect that he left behind a useful sum of money. The same calculation was probably made back in Patras and may have prompted a notice that appeared in the Bendigo Advertiser in July 1880, under the heading ‘Missing Friends’. It stated, ‘John G. Lagogiannis, merchant, Patras, Greece, wishes to communicate with his aunt, Caroline Lagogiannis, widow of the late A. Lagogiannis, of Crusoe Gully. Last heard of at Barrs Creek, near Kerang’. Perhaps this notice was connected with the arrival at Melbourne at the very end of 1880 of a Mr Lagogiannis aboard the RMS Cathay, but nothing definite can be discerned from these events and they remain little more than pieces in a puzzle. Caroline went on quietly presiding at her pub out in the mallee country until a winter’s day in June 1881 when, as the Kerang correspondent for the Bendigo Advertiser reported, ‘Mrs Lagogiannis, formerly of Crusoe, and more recently of the Freemasons’ Hotel Sandhurst, but who was lately the landlady of the Barr Creek Hotel, died very suddenly last week from congestion of the lungs’. It would later be known that she left no will and the curator of intestate estates dealt with her property, valued at £664 16s. 9d. Caroline was 40 years old. 145

CHAPTER 9

Spiridion Candiottis Better grapes we never saw, even on the Darling Downs, and as prolific a vine we never saw, except perhaps in Dr Candiottis’ garden. – Peak Downs Telegram … between us and you there is a great gulf fixed. – Peak Downs Telegram

After a three-month voyage from London, the ship Alipore of 811 tons anchored in Hobson’s Bay at the mouth of the Yarra River and Spiridion Candiottis, with 236 other passengers, came ashore.6 Not far away was Emerald Hill, an ancient volcanic outcrop that raised its head above the surrounding marshland and was further distinguished by the greener hue of its vegetation. Spreading over its slopes was a vast encampment known as Canvas Town where hundreds of tents stood in rows dignified with names such as ‘Bond Street’ and ‘Regent Street’ to give them an air of ‘squalid pleasantry’. The place was crowded with immigrants, most of them eager to fill their pockets with Australian gold, but its ‘frail walls’ also concealed privation and misery. The year was 1853, the month January, and in the heat of the Antipodean summer Emerald Hill was assuming a 6 ‘Spiridon’ is the usual spelling but the doctor preferred ‘Spiridion’ in life and on his gravestone.

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semblance of order. The government was conducting land sales and Canvas Town was contracting as people moved from tents into cottages thrown up on new allotments. Candiottis may have offered his services at one or more of the physicians’ tents in Canvas Town soon after arriving, but it was near the end of 1854 before an advertisement appeared in The Argus introducing Australia’s first Greek medical practitioner: ‘Dr Candiottis may be consulted daily at his residence, 9 Market-street, Emerald Hill.’ Spiridion Candiottis was born about 1824 on the island of Corfu to Konstantine Kandiottis and Penelope, née Vrakhliotti. The place was then part of the grandly named ‘United States of the Ionian Islands’, a chain of isles populated by Greeks, but separate from the Kingdom of Greece; it was a protectorate controlled by Britain and formed a very small part of the British Empire. Candiottis gave M.D. of Corfu as his professional qualification, and there was a medical school in his native island. It formed part of the Ionian Academy, established under the auspices of the Ionian government, but which owed its existence largely to the enthusiasm and money of Frederick North, Earl of Guildford, an eccentric Englishman who made the Academy his life’s mission. After this benefactor died in 1827, the medical school closed but it reopened again in 1844 when Spiridion Candiottis would have been of an age to attend.7 The standards were adequate as many of the teachers had studied in Italy and particularly at the medical school of Bologna. But Corfu was over-supplied with doctors and employment opportunities for its educated youth were limited. Britain’s ‘protection’ denied the Ionians an army or navy where young men might make a career, and many places in the government administration 7 Gilchrist states that Candiottis was ‘educated in Corfu and in 1850 obtained his medical degree in Paris, where he practised for a short time before travelling to Australia’ – Gilchrist, H. (1992) ‘Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years’ p. 98. If Candiottis had a qualification from Paris he would surely have declared it. In his registrations in Victoria, NSW and Queensland, he gave his qualification as ‘M.D. of Corfu’. The Australasian Medical Directory, 1883, notes his qualification as ‘M.D. et Ch. D.’ – Doctor of Medicine and Doctor of Surgery – ‘Corfu, 1850’. Records that could confirm his attendance at the Corfu Medical School were lost when the Ionian Academy buildings were bombed during the Second World War.

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were occupied by Britishers. Idle Ionians filled the kafenia and talked of enosis – union with Greece – but Candiottis did not join them. He left for Paris where he practised as a doctor before embarking on the long voyage to the Antipodes at the age of 29. Another immigrant came ashore from the Alipore that summer day in 1853. Emma Maria Tarplee was born in London in 1823 and in 1848 she married Joseph Booker, 11 years her senior, at St Marylebone Church. Their son Joseph Booker Jr. was born in Islington the following year, but within months Joseph senior was dead. In 1851, the widow Booker was living at Holloway in London where she was the head of a household that comprised her son, her sister and a servant girl. She told a census collector who came to her door one day that she earned her living as a draper and employed two females. Her situation must have been difficult and she made the decision to seek a better life in Australia. Emma left the drapery business in the hands of her sister and sailed from London with young Joseph in October 1852. During the long voyage in the Alipore, Emma had plenty of opportunity to become acquainted with fellow passengers, including the interesting doctor from Corfu. Emma and Spiridion formed a relationship and married in Melbourne in May 1855 and, although neither of them was a Catholic, the ceremony was performed at St Francis’ Church at the corner of Lonsdale and Elizabeth Streets. After three years at Emerald Hill, Candiottis was ready for new horizons and during the summer of 1855–56 he and Emma and young Joseph set out on the journey to Victoria’s central goldfields. They negotiated the hundred miles and more of wheel ruts that passed for roads, and braved awful wilds haunted by bushrangers to arrive, at last, at a place 20 miles north of Ballarat known as Back Creek. They had been there only a few months when there was a great rush to some new ground at Dunolly 20 miles further to the north. This proved to be one of the largest gold rushes ever seen in Australia, ultimately drawing 60,000 people. In a few weeks, a settlement sprang up among the box and ironbark trees with a main street a couple of miles long, lined on both sides with rude structures of bark 148

and bush timber, canvas and calico. The Candiottis family followed the multitudes to Dunolly and the doctor opened a practice there in Main Street next to the Golden Age Hotel. A tent lined with green baize served as both residence and surgery. There was plenty of scope for Candiottis’s services on the goldfields. Liquor and fighting took a toll on men crowded together in the rough settlements, and the guns and knives they kept for their security inflicted serious wounds, both accidental and intended. Mining underground, with its tunnelling and explosives and wielding of sharp implements, was dangerous work. Tents gave little protection against cold and damp and heat, and the occupants were prone to fevers, rheumatic ailments and eye infections. A diet of mutton, damper, tea and little else could turn a cold into pneumonia, and poor sanitation and bad water exposed people to dysentery and typhus. The women suffered in domestic disputes and in childbirth, while the children were prey to whooping cough and measles. Many people and much gold made Dunolly a wild place. One of its inhabitants observed, ‘On Saturday evenings there was a general popping off of pistols, probably to inform hearers that these articles were kept on the premises.’ The doctor had his horse stolen there. It was a bay mare, described in his advertisement in a Bendigo newspaper as bearing the brand ‘H’ off shoulder, with white hind feet, a star on the forehead and a long tail. The man that restored it to him was promised a £5 reward, but a good mount was worth a lot more than £5 and so it is unlikely the doctor ever saw his bay mare again. Whatever befell them at Dunolly, Spiridion and Emma Candiottis had cause to remember the place affectionately when a daughter was born to them there in 1856. They named her Eugenie Penelope. Further to the west in the Wimmera district men toiled at Pleasant Creek beneath the sandstone ramparts of the Grampian Range. Gold had been found there in 1853 but little interest was shown in the diggings – later to become the town of Stawell – as the place lacked water and was several days’ journey from the established goldfields at Ballarat and Bendigo. In August 1857 these disadvantages were forgotten when news came of rich 149

alluvial deposits at Pleasant Creek, and 25,000 people rushed to the spot. Candiottis followed the new rush to Pleasant Creek but in caring for a patient there he was accused of base and unprofessional behaviour. He was forced to defend himself in court, and then in public in a letter to the Ararat Advertiser. The following week there was talk of this affair back in Dunolly, causing Emma Candiottis to go to her husband’s defence. She wrote to the Maryborough and Dunolly Advertiser: Mr Editor, A most unfounded and malicious charge against Dr Candiottis has been recently investigated at Ararat, and certain envious persons in Dunolly having exerted themselves to circulate reports of the affair, very prejudicial to my husband, I will beg of you, Sir, who are always ready to do justice, kindly to cause the insertion of the enclosed letter in your much read paper. The letter, you will perceive, was published in the Ararat Advertiser of Sept 3rd. Trusting that you will grant me this favour. The Editor obliged and published the letter, written by Candiottis: Sir, A charge against me of illegally taking £2 from the pocket of a patient, has been investigated in the Police Court today. Mr Weston, the magistrate, dismissed the case, stating that the case against me was not only dismissed, but, for the information of the public, he was bound to say that I left the Court without the slightest stain on my character. I am not aware from whom the charge first originated, but consider he must be a low contemptible fellow. I thank the magistrate, Mr Weston, for his great exertion in arriving at the facts, and placing my name and character right before the public. The doctor was soon joined at Pleasant Creek by Emma and the children, and his standing at Ararat was somewhat restored when the 150

newspaper there reported on a misadventure suffered by Miss Kate O’Reilly, a popular actress: ‘We regret exceedingly to have to announce that Miss O’Reilly met with an accident on Thursday night, whilst enacting the part of Juliet in Romeo and Juliet. In the fourth act she fell and dislocated her elbow. Under the skilful treatment of Dr Candiotti, she is fast recovering, and we hope, in a few days, will resume her duties in the National Theatre, where her acting has met with such great success.’ Candiottis was again noticed in the press when he gave evidence in an inquest into the death of Francis Marson, a French gold-miner. The man had been found dead in his tent with a discharged pistol at his side. After several witnesses were questioned, the doctor gave his evidence in a manner that was not lacking in authority or detail: I am a legally qualified practitioner of medicine, residing at Pleasant Creek. I have made an examination of the body shown to the jury, and found a wound not quite round, as if made by a bullet, piercing the roof of the mouth. I opened the head, and found great extravasation of blood, I followed the course of the wound, and found that it pierced the right hemisphere of the brain, and terminated at the pons varoli, where I found a leaden bullet, which I now produce. A piece of bone from the roof of the mouth was carried into the brain. The mouth and tongue was blackened by powder, the teeth were all sound, and the other organs were all healthy. I believe the bullet which I found to have been shot from the pistol produced. Candiottis went on to say that rheumatic pains suffered by the deceased man were sufficient to produce a ‘temporary aberration of mind’, causing him to shoot himself, and the jury gave a verdict in agreement with the doctor’s opinion. At the local race meeting, the Pleasant Creek Times reported on a serious accident. A man drove a dray across the course just as the horses were 151

coming up, causing a collision. Two horses fell and one of the riders ‘was thrown with great violence and had his leg broken’. The newspaper went on to apprise its readers of the nature of the injury, ‘a compound communited fracture of the tibia and fibula’, a description that must have been supplied by doctors who immediately attended the injured man, one of whom was Dr Candiottis. More details followed about the enlarging of the wound, and extraction of four large pieces of bone and several fragments by the medical men and their hope that the leg would be saved, ‘unless the age and previous habits of the patient interfere with their treatment’. Candiottis knew the value of cultivating newspaper men. He had benefited from reports about his work. However, the press were about to turn on him. In June 1858 under the heading, ‘Another Case of Alleged Medical Malpractice’, the Pleasant Creek Times reported on the death of a woman and her unborn child. A Dr Fisher had attended her during her labour for 36 hours and had become alarmed. ‘Dr Candiottis was then summoned, and, after performing an operation, succeeded in partially delivering her. It seems that the husband, imagining that no hope of the mother’s recovery could be entertained, objected to any further interference on the part of the surgeons. She, however, survived, according to Dr Candiottis’s note on the certificate, fifteen hours, when she expired, and was buried – the child being unborn.’ The paper continued: ‘A more revolting and horrible case than that above described has never come beneath our notice in this or any country, and strict and, searching inquiry ought long ere this to have been instituted. In justice to the medical men implicated, an opportunity should be afforded them, if they be blameless, of clearing themselves of the aspersions cast upon them – and if blame be attached to them, steps should be taken to prevent the occurrence of similar cases in future, and to protect the public from such ignorant or unskilful practitioners.’ There were some official reservations about the death certificate in this case and questions were asked of Candiottis whose signature appeared on it. His answers were found wanting and the matter was referred to the coroner. It was enough for the Pleasant Creek Times to embark on a crusade: ‘The coroner (we must 152

confess we, are at a loss to imagine why) applied to the Attorney-General for instructions as to how to proceed in the matter, and has not yet decided whether to take action in the affair or not, although we believe the result of the inquiries by the police has clearly pointed out the necessity of so doing.’ The Times reports were republished widely in newspapers on the goldfields and in the capital. Soon The Argus in Melbourne received an angry letter from Candiottis, which the newspaper described as ‘too intemperate’ to publish in full. ‘We are unable to discover any justification for his excessive anger’, the paper said, and described Candiottis as ‘a gentleman of very little temper or discretion’. The Argus did at least publish the part of the doctor’s letter that amounted to his defence: ‘The great question at issue is this’, he wrote, ‘could the lives of the mother and child have been saved by art at the time of my arrival at the bedside of the patient? My answer is that the child was already dead and that the mother was in a dying condition. In fact, no earthly power could save her. Under the circumstances I listened to the anxious and feeling request of the sorrowing husband, and desisted from further operations which I was fully prepared to carry out had there been the slightest chance of a favourable result.’ Buoyed by the interest in its reports, the Pleasant Creek Times congratulated the Melbourne and provincial newspapers – and itself – for defending the role of the press while maintaining their dignity and not, ‘turning upon the yelping curs who bark at our heels’. The paper continued: ‘in the late Wimmera case, the coroner has grossly neglected his duty in withholding an inquest … Dr Candiottis, (from his own statements) should be brought before a jury either for the purpose of clearing himself of blame if innocent, or of punishing him to the full extent of the law, if guilty.’ On what should be done with Dr Fisher, who attended the ill-fated birth for 36 hours before he called in Dr Candiottis, the Times, and The Age in Melbourne, which republished these comments, expressed no opinion. Court proceedings did follow, but they were not of the kind imagined at the Pleasant Creek Times. Near the end of July 1858, Thomas McHugh, one of the reporters for the newspaper, left the Police Barracks where he had 153

some business, and walked towards the main road along a passage next to Forney’s Golden Age Hotel. He later told the Pleasant Creek police court that Candiottis emerged from behind a water-closet and said to him: ‘You d—d blackguard, you called me a liar’. McHugh continued: ‘He struck me on the left cheek with his fist. I then defended myself as best I could against his brutal violence, and, in the course of my attempts to do so, he twice attempted to kick me. Police Constable Mooney then came up, and separated the defendant and myself.’ In cross-examination, McHugh elaborated: ‘It was a fair stand-up fight. He had neither whip nor stick, and behaved fairly, except for the kicking. His kicks fell short. Foreigner-like he kicked, and clawed with his nails.’ Candiottis told the Court, ‘I met Mr M’Hugh in Camp-square. I had been for some days previously confined to my house by an attack of rheumatic gout and inflammation of the pereosteum of the finger. The complainant was walking straight towards the main street, but on seeing me turned aside in such a direction as to meet me. He said, “I hope you have got enough,” alluding, I believe, to the newspaper. I replied, “You are a black-guard and a liar.” He then struck me. Had I known his intention of meeting me, I should have been armed with a whip.’ McHugh represented himself in the proceedings and declined to cross-examine Candiottis. He called on the police magistrate to award the heaviest damages the law would allow and must have felt slighted by the sum of £10 and costs awarded to him. Worse was to come. Candiottis had a cross-action against McHugh which the court heard immediately. The evidence of the first case was repeated with the addition of some evidence of an injury that Candiottis had received to his thumb. The magistrate quickly found for the doctor and awarded him £10 damages with costs, relieving McHugh of all his recent gains. Nor did it end there. Trollope, a colleague of McHugh’s at the Pleasant Creek Times, was attending a performance at the Union Theatre one evening when Candiottis approached and addressed a question to him, as he claimed, ‘in a very incoherent manner, in very doubtful English’, and as Trollope was making his reply the doctor, ‘shook a heavy whip in my 154

face and called me a blackguard, a liar, a d—d rascal, and a scoundrel’. For this offence Candiottis would later be ordered by the police court to pay a £2 fine. When they passed one another again that night at the theatre, Trollope and Candiottis had a further exchange. Rashly, Trollope acted on it, sending a letter to his colleague McHugh requesting that he act as his second, and contact Candiottis to make the necessary arrangements: ‘This evening I was most grossly insulted by a fellow called Candiottis. As he professes to hold the position of a gentleman, I suppose I must treat him as if he were one, so far as to meet him. I leave the matter in your hands.’ McHugh then wrote to Candiottis in ominous tones: ‘The enclosed note from my friend Mr T. is to an effect not to be mistaken. At ten o’clock tomorrow morning I shall expect to meet any gentlemen you may appoint, and will make arrangements for the settlement of the affair.’ Issuing a challenge for a duel was treated as a breach of the peace under the laws of Victoria, so Candiottis complained to the police. In the resulting case of Candiottis v McHugh it must have appeared to the court that if a crime had been committed, the complainant was as much involved in it as the defendant, as Candiottis admitted that he too had appointed a second who attended at the Camp Hotel to arrange preliminaries. The Ararat Advertiser reported: ‘This closed plaintiff’s case, and as he called no witnesses, and the defendant would not admit of having had anything to do with the challenge, the bench dismissed the case. The whole transaction is too absurd to admit of comment. We are astonished at persons holding the position of the parties mixed up in this ridiculous affair should thus make exhibitions of themselves.’ A fortnight later, Candiottis had some satisfaction in his feud with Trollope, who must have considered it beneath his dignity to lie about writing the letter to McHugh. In Melbourne, a report from Ararat in the The Age stated: ‘The last scene in the farce of the contemplated duel between the Editor of the Times and Dr Candiottis, was played at our police court yesterday, when Mr Trollope was bound over in his own 155

recognisances of £50, and two sureties in £25 each to keep the peace for six months, and thus ended the superlatively ridiculous affair’. A great amount of alluvial gold was won at Pleasant Creek but in two years it was mostly gone and so were most of the miners, leaving a much smaller population to work the quartz reefs. As the Colonial Mining Journal reported in March 1859, ‘The recent rushes to Crowlands and Ararat have caused this hitherto populous field to be almost deserted. Stores, public-houses, and tents are leaving by scores.’ It was at Crowlands, a goldfields settlement some 20 miles east of Stawell, that a second child was born to Spiridion and Emma Candiottis late in 1858. It was a girl and they named her Arethusa. The Candiottis family did not stay long at Crowlands and by April 1859 newspapers were reporting on the doctor’s rounds at Back Creek, 45 miles or so further east, where they had lived briefly some years before. Gold had been found in the area in 1852, when a settlement known as Daisy Hill sprang up, its name changing to Amherst after the place was surveyed. In 1855, a rush at Back Creek saw the unearthing of nuggets weighing pounds rather than ounces and the arrival of large numbers of Chinese. New rushes followed and even larger nuggets came to light, one weighing over 18 pounds. The Scandinavian Rush established the settlement later to be known as Talbot and saw the district’s population reach 15,000. The place presented a surreal scene of brokers’ windows heavy with gold, great crowds of men and carts and animals, and the smoke and noise of explosions as miners blasted their way through basalt to get at the riches beneath. By then, the field had its own newspaper, the Amherst and Back Creek Advertiser, and Dr Candiottis had been practising for some time in a narrow row of stores named Oxford-street. Perhaps Candiottis’s return to Back Creek was influenced by news that a party of Greek miners were doing well there, extracting 64 ounces of gold worth £200 in their first washing. However, if there was a centre of Greek mining enterprise in the Victorian goldfields, it would emerge some months later, at Sandy Creek – or Tarnagulla – 35 miles to the north. It 156

was there that a party of Greeks led by Spiro Corfu struck the rich ‘Corfu Reef’ in September 1859, followed by the ‘Hellas Reef’ soon after, an event celebrated with the raising of the Greek flag. Candiottis was not the first Ionian Greek to inhabit Back Creek or the goldfields around it; that distinction might be claimed by George Cullodi, commonly known as George the Greek, who was put on trial in October 1854 for the fatal knifing of another miner named John Gorman. The jury acquitted Cullodi, apparently accepting his defence, given ‘in very broken English’, that he was forced to use his knife when Gorman attacked him on the road at night. The newspaper reported, ‘His Honor called the prisoner before him, and, after commenting upon the impropriety of carrying weapons such as knives and revolvers, cautioned the prisoner how he used his knife again. The Greek, who looked very serious, went away, leaving on the table the fatal knife, which his Honor said he should take upon himself to order to be destroyed’. Another Greek living at Amherst in 1854, who went under the name of Nicholas Knight, was not so fortunate. He was fatally stabbed by Alexander Henri, a French miner who was seriously mistaken about the nationality of his victim, shouting as he plunged the blade into poor Nicholas, ‘I have given you your mark, you b— English b— ’. Back Creek presented Candiottis with dire scenes: beatings, stabbings and shootings, people gored by bulls or kicked by horses, and the inevitable mining accidents. In one case, a man murdered his wife by cutting her throat. The doctor found, ‘One of the wounds on the cheek bone was fully two inches and a half long, another on the chin about the same length, and a third on the throat was a frightful depth. The woman seemed to have struggled desperately – one of her hands was very much cut.’ Afterwards, the murderer cut his own throat so badly that he would not speak again. One April evening, a young German woman named Elizabeth Schafer, a servant at the Criterion restaurant in Star Street, hurried out to get some groceries. In the street was a shaft 40 feet deep made nearly invisible by the glare of a light from an adjoining shop and lacking any 157

enclosure or warning. Miss Schafer stepped into the hole and plummeted to the bottom. Candiottis was soon in attendance with two other doctors and found that one of her legs was completely shattered, besides other severe injuries. The poor woman lay in a precarious state for some weeks until taken by ‘hectic fever’. In June the Bendigo Advertiser reported that an inquest had been held ‘on the bodies of two men of colour, who were smothered by carbonic acid gas, owing to their leaving a charcoal fire alight when they retired to rest with the tent tightly closed’. The unfortunate men hoped for a little comfort on a cold winter night but when the tent was opened the next day, one was dead and the other nearly so. Candiottis tried to resuscitate the survivor with the help of a French woman, but without success. In the same month, a man and his wife were woken when they heard someone moving around outside their tent. The man got up and, gun in hand, challenged the intruder. When there was no reply he fired and soon discovered that he had shot ‘an intimate friend who was staying the night at his tent, and had just then stepped outside’. Candiottis attended the wounded man and from his left arm ‘extracted in one mass upwards of an ounce of shot’. Later, a woman who lived with a man named Fred, and ‘passing as his wife’ went to the store and purchased five percussion caps, ‘as she said to try a pistol’. The neighbours soon heard her calling out ‘Fred’ three times, followed by the firing of the pistol, and the man crying out, ‘Oh, God, you have shot me.’ The shot went through the right eye, but as he was lying down asleep at the time, its trajectory was not fatal. Candiottis attended the wounded man and brought him out of danger. A case heard by Judge Redmond Barry8 at the Castlemaine Criminal Sessions in July 1859 underlined the diverse character of Victorian goldfields’ society. Alexandre Goiga, a Frenchman, was on trial for murder after striking and killing James Smith. The accused demanded and was allowed a jury de medietate linguae, that is, one composed half of foreigners and half of British subjects. An Irishman, Robert O’Hara 8 Redmond Barry judged the Eureka Stockade rebels and later Ned Kelly

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Burke,9 Superintendent of Police at Castlemaine, gave evidence that he saw the accused at Daylesford and ‘addressed and cautioned him in the French tongue’; Goiga was at the races in company with several Italians according to another witness; and Candiottis, who had attended the deceased and informed the court of his post-mortem examination of the body, was, of course, an Ionian Greek. Some light was also cast on the dangers of life on the goldfields when Candiottis told the court, ‘I was roused by two men knocking up a row at my door and using bad language. We are in such a state of personal insecurity at Back Creek that I did not feel safe in going until two respectable men came for me.’ The same month, on the Carisbrooke Road, some bullocks were being driven into a yard for slaughter when one of the men slipped and fell from the rail on which he was sitting and was ‘at once charged by one of the cattle – a wild, ungovernable brute. The creature’s horn entered his skull, and fairly tore away a portion of the bone.’ Candiottis was soon in attendance with another doctor. ‘They found a frightful wound on the left temple, portions of the frontal and parietal bones being torn away, one of the branches of the temporal artery seriously injured, and the brain lacerated, and protruding. They removed the fragments of the skull, and dressed the wound.’ Unfortunately, paralysis took hold and the man died not long after. Another accident involving an animal occurred some months later at Kangaroo Flat where a little girl had persisted in annoying a horse with a stick. When she came within range of the horse’s hind leg it delivered a deadly kick to her forehead so that, ‘the frontal bone was fractured, and the flesh torn for a length of four inches and a half’. Candiottis was called and determined that her recovery was very doubtful. On a Sunday of very high winds – described in the newspaper as a ‘hurricane’ – a woman named Margaret Jones was sitting beside her husband in their tent at the Hard Hill field when a branch was blown from an overhanging tree. Descending like a javelin, it penetrated the roof of the tent and pierced the poor woman’s breast, ‘literally transfixing and staking 9 Burke of ‘Burke and Wills’ fame

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her to the ground’. Her shocked husband was unable to stir from his seat for some moments and, when he did, ‘found his wife quite dead’. In the post-mortem examination, Candiottis noted ‘four ribs broken, the right lung lacerated through, and kept together by a mere shred, and a rupture of the pericardium and the liver’. Margaret Jones was 31 years of age and at the moment of her death was nursing her youngest child. It escaped injury but now, with her three other children, it was without a mother. Accidents involving explosives were common. One occurred when two Germans ‘put in a shot, and were running down the charge, when it suddenly exploded, and scattered the rock with great violence’. One of the men had his arm broken while the other, named Conrad and known as the ‘German Interpreter’, was struck on the forehead by a piece of rock, but luckily escaped with only a slight wound to the temple. This was ‘soon set right by Dr Candiottis with a little plaster’. The collapse of an underground tunnel or drive was especially feared by miners. This is what befell Thomas McNamara who, with two other miners, was setting props in a drive in the Irishman’s claim, on the Black Lead. McNamara was the farthest in the drive when some of the timber props gave way and a great mass of earth fell down and buried him. Men dug frantically for over an hour and for much of the time the trapped man’s muffled cries could be heard: ‘pray for my soul and help me!’ Candiottis was called and was there when McNamara was uncovered, but all he could do was pronounce the man dead. In one of the brothels of Back Creek, a young girl had been allowed to lie in a soiled bed for two weeks in a semi-comatose state. Her lips were parched and cracked and her tongue resembled ‘a withered leaf’. Candiottis examined the dying girl and Inspector Hare10 arranged other accommodation for her, but she lived only a few more hours. The madam and other women in the brothel were arrested and charged in the police court as vagrants. At the request of Inspector Hare, the newspaper report of 10 Later Superintendent Frank Hare who led the police attack on the Kelly Gang at Glenrowan

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the case mentioned that the dead girl’s parents were respectable citizens of Ballarat and suggested that ‘some reader of The Star may know them, and perchance will make known the gloomy end of their daughter Margaret’. Amid the suffering, much wealth was being won from the hard ground. Back Creek’s ‘Main Lead’ was busier than ever, and giving good returns. On the ‘Rock Lead’ some claims were paying magnificently, the shareholders ‘making their piles’. One party sold 60 ounces in a week, and a nugget weighing 58 oz. was sold to Mr Kuttner, gold broker, the sellers refusing to say where it was found. In November 1859, at the Mia Mia diggings near Back Creek, Moses Dando and Matthew Bowen were in their tent drinking one night with other miners. By midnight, the two friends were drunk and began ‘skylarking’, but when they stepped outside their antics degenerated into a fist fight. After 10 minutes or so, they ceased trading punches and Dando went back into the tent and emerged almost immediately with an axe that he used to hack Bowen in the chest and then the head. Bowen’s heart was exposed and could be seen beating. The piece of his skull cut away was as large as the palm of a man’s hand and a slice of the brain had gone with it. That Bowen did not die from these terrible wounds, and in fact seemed to be recovering, made him something of a sensation. The idea that his skull might be fitted with a silver plate no doubt added to the public’s interest. A newspaper reported: Notwithstanding that the brain protrudes through the opening made in the skull by the axe, he is perfectly sensible, and converses in as rational a manner … On the bandages being removed by Dr Candiottis the other day, we could plainly see the pulsation of the blood in the vessels of the brain. The wound in the chest is healing rapidly, and all danger from that source is at an end. Candiottis had by this time established a private hospital in Scandinavian Crescent and, motivated no doubt by both charitable and 161

commercial considerations, had admitted Bowen as a patient and provided him with care free of charge. The doctor was used to cultivating the press to promote his medical practice, but now he seems to have graduated to the role of showman: Dr Candiottis, the medical gentleman who has been in attendance on the unfortunate man Bowen, since he was so savagely assaulted at the Mia Mia, called at the office of this paper yesterday, and brought with him the pieces of skull which had been sliced off Bowen’s head. There are five pieces, varying from one to three inches in length, beside a number of small particles which had been chipped off the edges of the wound. The Doctor states that for a long time after the injury was inflicted, Bowen’s brain protruded, from inflammation, to the size of a large bowl. There is now, however, a vacuum in the head into which a man’s fist could be introduced. The Doctor also brought with him a well-finished portrait of Bowen, as he now is, which gives a faint idea of the injuries he has received. To judge from the portrait, Bowen is a large built muscular man, and does not seem to show outwardly any ill effects from his awful wounds. In early 1860, Candiottis and family left Back Creek and journeyed some 45 miles north to Inglewood. The doctor was probably following his patients, as a rush to a new Inglewood field had begun in January, and by the middle of the year it had brought 40,000 people to the place. A party of Greek miners, whom the newspapers did not bother to name, were making their fortunes there at the definitively named ‘Greeks Reef’. This claim yielded payable gold on the surface early in 1860, and after six months and sinking 60 feet, was still producing 335 ounces of gold from 23 tons of crushed stone. At 100 feet, the Greeks’ luck got even better when they struck ‘a solid vein of stone 6ft. thick, and richly impregnated with gold’. 162

Candiottis, on the other hand, may have wondered if he could earn a living at Inglewood when he found himself to be one of seven doctors attending a single patient. The man had been working in a hole when several tons of earth fell on him. After being dug out he was first attended by Dr Martin, who called in Dr Scott. A witness at the later Coronial inquest said Dr Martin had been drunk and so Candiottis was called. He ‘cupped him in the back’, and suggested that the injured man’s previous treatment had been faulty. Dr Quinlan also attended the man, and then he was seen by Dr Crosland who left, and afterwards sent Dr Rae. For good measure, Dr Emmeth also looked in on the poor man who never had much hope of recovery as the accident had fractured his spine. At the Inglewood police court in April, a man of about 60 years of age, who kept a coffee stall in the street and slept in a large packing case, was charged with committing an ‘unnatural offence’ on a boy 10 or 12 years old. The newspaper commented, ‘Of course the greater portion of the evidence was unfit to appear in print.’ Candiottis examined the boy and provided ‘unmistakeable evidence as to the truth of the charge’ to the court in Castlemaine. However, Judge Molesworth, who heard the case, found the boy to be an unsuitable witness. The newspaper reported: ‘Before the case was gone into, His Honor questioned the boy as to his knowledge of the nature of an oath, and the examination disclosed a most lamentable state of ignorance. He could neither read nor write, had never been to church, knew no prayer, had never heard of Heaven, in fact was a living reproach to any community.’ The jury returned a verdict of acquittal. Candiottis was now spending much of his time in post-mortem examinations and giving evidence at coronial inquests and court proceedings. There were a German woman who hanged herself from the tye-beam of her tent after a quarrel with her husband; a skeletal corpse found next to an old mine shaft near Kingower; a miner killed with a shovel by his mate while they were out prospecting; and the telegraphmaster at Sandy Creek who cut his throat from ear to ear with a razor. In October 1860, the doctor invested some effort in collecting 163

signatures for a petition and, when it had been subscribed by some 70 people, he sent it to the attorney-general. The petition sought his appointment ‘in place of Dr Deane resigned’ to the post of coroner at ‘New rush Kingower, Korong and vicinity’. It stated that his appointment would ‘give satisfaction to the inhabitants of the district and conduce to the interests of justice, for his knowledge, energy, loyalty and independance of character’. In November, ‘J.D.W.’ a public servant, noted on the file: ‘Dr Candiottis applies to be appointed Coroner at Inglewood. I think he had better wait until he learns to speak English without a foreign accent.’ Referring apparently to some other correspondence received from the doctor, the writer went on to say, ‘and until he has learned that there is an “h” in “should” and that there is no “u” in “remove”.’ The following December, Candiottis became involved in a controversy. He went to see the coroner of the district, Mr C. Eardly Wilmot, Esq., and discussed with him his suspicions about a Mrs Yates who had died that morning. The coroner directed the police to make inquiries into the case and, on receiving their report, he concluded that an inquiry was not necessary. Dr Candiottis, however, pressed the matter by writing a letter setting out his suspicions. The coroner then ordered a post-mortem examination and an inquest to settle the issue. The evidence showed that Mrs Yates had died of heart disease and her treatment had been proper. The jury returned a verdict of death from natural causes and added a rider which the coroner refused to accept, but which was reported in the newspaper. It was a serious rebuke: ‘The jury consider Dr Candiottis to have been very wrong in taking the part he did, or in causing the post-mortem examination to be held at all, being actuated, as we believe, by professional malice.’ This public censure, taken with his failure to win a coronial appointment, contributed to Candiottis’s decision to look beyond Inglewood. But these misfortunes could not compare with the bitter blow Spiridion and Emma Candiottis suffered at this time: their younger daughter, two-year-old Arethusa, contracted malignant tonsilitis and all the doctor’s skill and care could not save her. 164

Early in 1861, Candiottis extended his practice from Inglewood some 40 miles south-west to Redbank on the eastern slopes of the Pyrenees Range where gold had been found and a new settlement was taking shape. The doctor’s stay there had a transient character, the Harp of Erin Hotel serving as his residence. He was still there in April when his nearly new pigskin saddle, and a snaffle bridle with breast plate, were stolen from the hotel’s stable. At Redbank, he made a further application to the attorneygeneral for a coronial position when a position there became available. His letter stated, ‘I have the honour to inform you that being convinced of the necessity of the appointment of a Coroner for this District, I beg to offer myself as a candidate for the Office and hope that in the discharge of my duty I shall give satisfaction as I consider myself in all points competent.’ However, his application was passed over in favour of a Mr Alley who already held the positions of police magistrate and warden at Redbank. Some months later, when it appeared that the position of coroner would become vacant again, Candiottis wrote to the newly appointed attorney-general in a more personal tone: ‘My Dear Mr Aspinall. It is some time since I had the pleasure of seeing you, therefore I fear from our short acquaintance you have forgotten me, but as I hear of your accession to the Attorney Generalship I have taken the liberty of soliciting from you the Coronership for the District of Redbank. Some months ago I made an application for it when Mr Alley our P.M. was appointed but in consequence of too heavy duties, I hear the Coronership is to be disposed of, therefore should feel extremely obliged by your conferring that favour on me which I trust I should fulfil to your utmost satisfaction. In conclusion I beg to state that Dr Slater, a resident of Moonambell, has been recommended by the Committee of Redbank, but as I consider my claim prior to his, I hope you will take the same view of the case and give me the appointment.’ Candiottis was not so favoured but even if there had been an inclination on the part of the attorney-general to grant his wish, the doctor’s nationality may have stood in the way. In his correspondence with the attorneygeneral’s department the doctor claimed he was ‘a born British Subject’. 165

He might be excused for believing this, as Corfu was certainly subject to the crown, but the Ionian Islands were not a crown colony, they were a protectorate, and the people were denied important benefits of imperial rule such as British nationality. Candiottis was living freely in Victoria not because he was British, but because the liberal spirit of the times presented an open door to all comers. Candiottis continued on at Redbank, treating the victims of mining accidents, rural injuries and sickness. In June, Eliza Randall gave birth to a little girl at Navarre New Rush. A doctor was sent for soon after, and there being no qualified medical man in the town, Mr Trenery, an unqualified practitioner, saw her. He failed to remove the whole of the placenta and also applied hot bandages that encouraged haemorrhage. When he became concerned at the patient’s symptoms he sent for Dr Regan who came and found Mrs Randall close to death. Trenery and the doctor raised her up in bed and gave her a glass of pale brandy and after drinking it she ‘dropped her head over her breast, and expired’. An inquest was held and the evidence showed that Mrs Randall had been bleeding excessively. According to Dr Candiottis, the treatment given by Trenery was exactly the reverse of what was needed. Newspapers reported that Trenery was arrested on the coroner’s warrant and committed for trial on a charge of manslaughter. He was just one of a number of dubious medical practitioners on the Victorian goldfields. Two months later, another medical man was committed for trial after bleeding to death an Ararat storekeeper. Later in 1861, new gold discoveries caused an exodus from Redbank and Candiottis quit the town. But this time he did not join the rush. The doctor had decided to leave Her Majesty’s Colony of Victoria and to look for opportunities elsewhere. The family returned to Melbourne where they resided briefly in King Street. In early October Emma, with the children, Joseph now aged twelve, and Eugenie aged five, boarded a coastal steamer for the voyage 700 miles north to Sydney, the capital of the ‘mother colony’ of New South Wales. They were followed by Spiridion at the end of November. 166

From Sydney, the Candiottis family journeyed west, ascending the Blue Mountains, skirting their profound deeps, and venturing into the vast inland of New South Wales. At length they reached the Lachlan River where some 30,000 people were gathered in a massive encampment. The place was named Forbes and it was made up of thousands of tents and hundreds of crude huts, with some 50 stores, hotels and other establishments lining a long commercial row named Rankin Street. At one end, Rankin Street became the Sydney Road, and at the other end, the Melbourne Road. There was no bridge over the Lachlan River and a single waterman stood ready to ferry people, carts and animals to the other bank. Candiottis joined other medical men in Forbes, among them Drs Rae and Park, who also practised as surgeons. There was a newspaper, The Miner, and in May 1862 Candiottis made an appearance in its columns when two sawyers organised a dog fight outside Cohen’s Commercial Hotel. An argument ensued which grew into a fight, and a bystander who intervened was brutally assaulted, leaving his head and face ‘covered with gaping and dangerous wounds’. The man was removed to the Commercial Hotel and ‘the skilful services of Dr S. Candiottis were immediately retained’. Candiottis ensured that the newspaper was in a position to fully inform its readers of his patient’s condition: ‘We subjoin a description of his wounds, for which we are indebted to his medical attendant’, the paper noted. There followed the gruesome details that Candiottis liked to supply the press, the paper concluding: ‘Unless different symptoms display themselves, Dr Candiottis has strong hopes of the ultimate recovery of his patient.’ Candiottis may have felt there were too many medical men in Forbes – Drs Ashenheim and Crawford adding to the number – and in late 1862 he returned with his family to Sydney where he practised at 193 Castlereagh Street. He was registered with the NSW Medical Board as ‘M.D. of Corfu’, and his advertisement in the press mentioned his experience in Victoria and at Forbes in New South Wales. In September, the doctor donated a live carpet snake, ‘Morelia variegata’, to the Australian Museum in College Street. This interest in 167

nature seems to have been shared with Emma Candiottis who would later donate to the Museum a ringed sea snake, ‘Platurus laticadautus’, and ‘a flying fish from the South Sea Islands’, although one assumes that these were not live specimens. In March 1863, Candiottis acted as an interpreter for a man named George Manwell, or Manuel, who was put on trial at the central criminal court in Sydney. Manwell was a Greek sailor from Athens, 37 years of age, who had arrived on the Star of Peace, a ship of the Aberdeen clipper line. Manwell had met a woman at the Black Dog public house near Lower George Street in Sydney, and drank some port with her before walking to her lodgings. On their way, there was an altercation with another man whom Manwell wounded with his knife. The woman was also slightly wounded in the encounter. The attorney-general conducted the prosecution, while Manwell was unrepresented. He pleaded ‘not guilty’, and said he had been stabbed. But there was no sign of another knife and a medical man gave evidence that Manwell’s cut was ‘superficial’, and ‘a mere skin wound’, from which it might be inferred that he cut himself to disguise his culpability. At this point Dr Candiottis, forgetting his role as a mere interpreter, offered his opinion to the court: ‘he had seen the wound some days after the occurrence and did not consider it to be a superficial wound’. The prisoner, in his defence, said, ‘he was never in a court before, and did not know what to say. He denied the charge, and declared that he was himself stabbed by someone.’ The jury was out for 20 minutes and found Manwell guilty of wounding with intent to do grievous bodily harm. He was sentenced to five years’ hard labour on the roads with the possibility of a remission for good conduct. The following month, Candiottis and family were preparing to leave New South Wales, and an auction of the furniture in their four-bedroom residence in Castlereagh Street was arranged. The advertisement in the Sydney Morning Herald suggested an affluent household with its offering of ‘very choice and at the same time elegant and useful house-hold furniture, brilliant toned cottage pianoforte, ornaments and engravings, New Zealand war implements, cut glass and china.’ 168

Near the end of April 1863, Candiottis left Sydney on the Balclutha steamer bound for Rockhampton in the new Colony of Queensland. It was arranged that Emma, with Eugenie and Joseph, would follow him a month later. After steaming nearly a thousand miles north, the Balclutha rounded Cape Capricorn and entered Keppel Bay where it passed picturesque islands before entering the mouth of the Fitzroy River. It steamed upstream for some 40 miles and Candiottis had his first glimpse of Rockhampton when a long reach of the river opened out to reveal wharves and shipping on the south bank, and the town laid out on a plain that ran towards coastal ranges. The colony was not yet four years old and this was the port for a vast region not long opened to settlement. People and capital were arriving with every steamer. The town already had its own newspaper, the Bulletin. It was put out three times a week by William H. Buzacott, an immigrant from Devonshire who had shipped a printing plant up from Sydney. In the middle of May 1863, Candiottis placed an advertisement in the Bulletin informing readers that he was a ‘Surgeon & Accoucheur, legally qualified by the Sydney and Melbourne Medical Boards’, and could be consulted at his rooms in the Fitzroy Hotel. He came to further public notice when the Courier in Brisbane reported on his treatment of a young woman who had attempted suicide: ‘A poor servant girl having been crossed in love, attempted to poison herself with arsenic, but Dr Candiottis with his stomach pump, frustrated her intention, and she has recovered, we hope to be wiser.’ In June, Candiottis informed the good people of Rockhampton and district that he had ‘removed to his new residence, East-street, opposite Mr Mulligan’s Queensland Stores’, where he could be consulted at all hours, the advertisement adding that his services extended to teeth needing to be ‘extracted, scaled or stopped’. That month, Spiridion and Emma attended the Leichhardt Masonic Lodge Ball, a gala affair presented in Captain Hunter’s new store. It was the first event of its kind in the district and the organising committee had thrown themselves into the work of fitting out the ball room with floral decorations, 169

coloured bunting and pendants so that the place presented a scene worthy of praise. The Bulletin reported, ‘At twenty minutes past nine the measured strains or the first quadrille literally opened the ball.’ Among the 150 guests in attendance were several medical men of the town including Dr William Callaghan, Dr Hutchinson, Dr Howitt, and Dr and Mrs Robertson. The company ‘kept up the gay scene’ until shortly after midnight when they adjourned to supper. This was served in a marquee at the entrance to the ball room and comprised ‘every delicacy that is here procurable’. Afterwards, ‘dancing re-commenced with fresh vigour and animation and it was quite five a.m. before the whole of the company had left’. At the Rockhampton races in July, a lieutenant of the Native Mounted Police, Rudolf Morisset, rode a horse named ‘Vengeance’ that fell at the first jump. He managed to get on again and was the first to pass the stand, ‘with a good bit to spare’. But he had been injured in the fall: ‘Morisset’s arm was hanging down and they had to throw water in his face before they could get him to weigh in’. He was carried off the course and Candiottis bound his broken ribs with calico and set his broken arm. That month, Hugh Landreth, one of the men working on the construction of the Joint Stock Bank was helping to move a load of stone from the Fitzroy Street wharf when he fell into the river. Unable to swim, he struggled for some time to save himself then sank. The Bulletin reported, ‘two blackfellows appeared on the scene – one, an aboriginal boy of Mr Dubloon’s, the other, the well-known South Sea Islander, Peter. These expert swimmers immediately commenced diving for the body, and after the lapse of a few minutes Peter reappeared on the surface, grasping a leg of the deceased and dragging him to shore.’ Drs Howitt and Bowman responded to calls for medical assistance and after making some efforts ‘pronounced the man entirely and completely dead, and left the spot’. However, ‘Drs Candiottis and Belinfante then took the case in hand’. They removed Mr Landreth to Nobbs’ Hotel, ‘where for three quarters of an hour they exhibited the most approved treatment, without, however, being compensated by success. As a last resource tracheotomy was performed, but 170

the unfortunate deceased was removed from human power’. The newspaper also noted: ‘To mark the appreciation of Drs Candiottis and Belinfante’s efforts to restore life, a fee was raised on the spot, and a small subscription also presented to Peter, who had on previous occasions distinguished himself by his courage and skill in rescuing persons from the river.’ At the inquest held by the district coroner, Dr Callaghan, there was, according to the press report, ‘nothing of interest’, and the jury returned a verdict that Hugh Landreth’s death was accidental. In August, Candiottis set off a heated argument amongst the town’s medical men when he claimed that improper treatment had led to a patient’s death. John Robinson, a resident of Gladstone, had suffered a wound to his arm with a knife. A doctor there had repeatedly lanced the wound, but it would not heal. In pain, Robinson travelled to Rockhampton and saw Dr Robertson. The next day Dr Robertson, together with Dr Callaghan, performed an operation at Mrs Cunningham’s boarding house where the patient was staying. Unfortunately, the patient’s condition worsened after the operation and in a few hours he was dead. Candiottis had later gone to the boarding house – he claimed on other business – and while there examined the deceased man and asked Mrs Cunningham questions about his treatment. He then asked the police magistrate to inquire into Robinson’s death. The investigation took place before a bench of three justices with Police Magistrate Jardine presiding. In his evidence, Dr Robertson said the wound was an aneurismal tumour and that ‘the profanda artery 11 had been cut close to the elbow joint’. When Dr Robertson could not tie this artery where it had been cut, he sent for Dr Callaghan for assistance, and together they succeeded in tying it off. After the operation the deceased man lost a very large amount of blood. Mrs Cunningham could not say how much, but it had saturated the sick man’s clothes and seeped through the cracks in the floor. When Dr Robertson saw the patient again a few hours later he had a very weak pulse and died soon after. As Candiottis 11 The superior and inferior profunda arteries are branches of the main artery in the arm.

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was about to interrogate Dr Robertson, ‘he was informed that he could not be allowed to put any questions excepting through the Bench’. Candiottis did nevertheless manage to put before the inquiry the possibility that the patient might have survived if the operation had been carried out when Dr Robertson first saw him, rather than waiting another day. However, three other doctors, including two who had participated in the post-mortem examination, endorsed the treatment given. The bench forwarded the evidence to the Attorney-General but no action was taken. A few days later, Dr Callaghan made a public attack on Candiottis in a letter to the Northern Argus newspaper. Regrettably, the issue of the paper in which Callaghan’s letter was published has been lost. However, Candiottis’ reply, appearing in the Bulletin, has survived: SIR, – May I be permitted to trespass on your column for a little space, in order to refute some of calumnies thrown upon me by Dr Callaghan, in the Northern Argus of to-day. I did not go to Mrs Cunningham in any other way than the one I stated in Court. I had business with her, and on my way to her house I learned that a man had died the previous day, in a dwelling which was pointed out to me. I proceeded to find Mrs Cunningham who called to me as I was passing her, informing me that she had changed her residence, and was living in the very house where the death took place. I asked her was there not a dead body in her house? She replied, yes, he bled to death. I solemnly swear those were her words. She invited me to see the corpse, which I did, and then discovered the large gash in his arm. Now, with regard to the ligature. Dr Robertson stated, that after tying of the artery (with Dr Callaghan’s sanction), he wrapped the arm in a blanket to restore and reproduce circulation, which was a very wise thing to do, only fraught with a small inconvenience, that the man could, and probably 172

did, bleed to death by the very means adopted to save him. Moreover, when an artery is tied it is done with the view of stopping the bleeding; but it will amount to nothing if both ends be not tied as, the circulation re-established by the collateral branches, the bleeding will be as bad from the other end of the artery; and tying one end will benefit the patient about as much as a blister on a wooden leg. In this case only one end was tied, and consequently so much for their surgery. I should also mention the fact of the poor man having been, without medical attendance for some days previous to his departure from Gladstone, that the voyage occupied two or three days; and all this time the arm not dressed or attended to in any way. Yet Dr Robertson thought he did quite enough by applying a compress and tourniquet, instead of at once examining the wound, the primary cause of all the mischief. As to Dr Callaghan’s charge against me in the matter of Hugh Landreth, it is utterly unfounded and untruthful. Dr Bowman was present at the inquest, and can testify to the fact. For the ‘hat’ I beg to say that it did go round, and I felt it a great compliment that my efforts were so greatly appreciated. I did not, however, ‘cooly appropriate’, the sum collected as Dr Callaghan so maliciously asserts, but it was at my request shared by the medical gentleman who assisted me. Does this look like rapacity on my part? I should have considered the honour done me by the approbation bestowed sufficient, without the remuneration which has proved such gall and wormwood to some. His paltry attack upon my nationality, I consider far beneath my notice, and treat it with the contempt it merits. One word more, Dr Callaghan accuses me of acting unprofessionally, but I will ask the public to judge who acts unprofessionally or ungentlemanly, he or myself. A 173

conspiracy has been formed against me, no doubt with the view of driving me from Rockhampton, (as they have another medical man) but in this instance they will fail. Let me have fair play, and I will check-mate them all. Apologising for the length of my letter. I remain, yours very obediently, S. Candiottis M.D. By October, Candiottis’s regular advertisement in the Bulletin advised that he was now registered as a medical practitioner in Queensland. Some readers may also have noticed that Dr Callaghan’s advertisement, which previously appeared in the same column immediately above it, had now migrated some distance away. One day, Candiottis drove his gig about 20 yards along the footpath in East Street. It was a minor transgression but the chief constable considered it grave enough to summon him to court. Candiottis explained to the magistrate he had driven on the footpath to avoid the mud in the road that was eight inches deep outside his house. Mr Jardine thought deep mud was so common in the streets of Rockhampton as to make it ‘a very trifling thing’, but he imposed no penalty and discharged the doctor on payment of costs amounting to 4s. 6d. After a year in Rockhampton, Spiridion and Emma Candiottis were preparing to leave the town. One of the last notable cases the doctor attended there involved a boy named McLelland who fell from his horse and was then dragged along the ground face down, so that ‘nearly every trace of human features had been obliterated by cuts, gashes, and blood’. Many years later McLelland would recall that the doctor’s timely attention probably saved his sight. Spiridion and Emma consigned their household goods to a drayman and with Joseph and Eugenie they headed their buggy west on the 274mile journey to Clermont, a raw mining town in central Queensland. They were going into a country where Aborigines and settlers were still engaged 174

in desultory warfare, the spears and clubs of one side arraigned against the double-barrel carbines of the other; a country where white men wilted under the tropical sun and left their bones to be scattered in dry gullies. After days of travel through timbered hills, with crossings of the lower and then the upper Mackenzie River, and nights passed at bush inns, they came at last onto the downs. They must have paused there for a time to contemplate the great savanna stretching away to The Peaks on the distant horizon, a vista interrupted only by the occasional ironbark ridge or brigalow scrub, and the peculiar form of the bottle tree. The soil was a rich basalt clothed with blue and Flinders grasses and watered by perennial springs, and plains turkeys were so plentiful they could be shot ‘by the hundred’. After the explorer Ludwig Leichhardt published his admiring account of this country in 1846, squatters came up from the south. They took up vast pastoral holdings, giving them names like Langton, Wolfang, Kilcummin, Peak Downs and Malvern Downs, and moved great herds of cattle and sheep onto the native pastures. Teamsters made their camp on a corner of Wolfang station where a lagoon or billabong of Sandy Creek gave a sure supply of water. By 1861, John Winter had added a store and a bush inn to the place. Pastoralist Oscar de Satge, who had interests in several Peak Downs runs, may have suggested the name ‘Clermont’ to surveyor Augustus Gregory who laid out the town, or it may have come from Leichhardt who saw in The Peaks some resemblance to mountains he had seen far away, on the other side of the world, in the French province of Auvergne. Soon, the discovery of copper ore a few miles to the west gave rise to a small mining settlement known as Copperfield, but few people were attracted to the downs until 1862 when two shepherds, named McDonald and Mollard, washed some pans of dirt at the Sandy Creek lagoon and found coarse gold. When the news got out, there was a rush, and the flat on Sandy Creek was rapidly covered with crude huts. By 1863 there were 300 diggers on the field and when provisions ran short the men survived on pigweed and mutton. They yearned for the day when the drays would 175

arrive with fresh supplies, but when at last they came they were costly to buy. As with the earlier Canoona rush near Rockhampton, the finds on the Peak Downs were exaggerated. The number of diggers reached more than a thousand and then fell away as disease struck, luck failed, and men left for more promising goldfields elsewhere. Enough of them remained, however, to give Clermont its start; a main street developed on the flat close to the diggings and when the lagoon overflowed, shallow waters lapped benignly at the town. The gold-bearing country would support a fluctuating population of miners for years, but it was the copper mine that brought solidity to Clermont. ‘One-Eyed Jack’ Mollard was fossicking for gold in ironbark ridges four miles south-west of the Sandy Creek lagoon when he came upon a true wonder of nature: ‘What met his eye was a wall of copper ore standing like a pinnacle 30 to 40 feet above the surface of the ground, 16 feet in length and 8 to 10 feet wide with the lode easily traced for a distance of 140 yards’. Mollard knew nothing of copper mining and unwisely revealed his discovery to John Manton of Sydney who was prospecting on the downs at the time. Manton quickly recognised the value of the ore deposit and secured the rights. His judgement was confirmed when samples of the ore body were taken for appraisal and assayed at between 54% and 77% of copper. The Peak Downs Copper Mining Company was soon floated in Sydney, with the sale of shares to Manton’s business associates providing the working capital. The mine would ultimately produce copper worth £1,275,000 and, for his part in the enterprise, Mollard is said to have received a bottle of rum; he claimed later that he was also promised a payment of £100 but it never eventuated. Candiottis was not the first Greek, or even Ionian, to appear at Clermont. He was preceded by at least two others. One of them was Eugenios Genatas from Corfu, who served as an officer in the Native Mounted Police. Genatas was stationed at a camp at nearby Theresa Creek from the middle of 1861 where he served for about a year. One day, he encountered Oscar de Satge, who was pleased to have the company of 176

the Corfiote Lieutenant and impressed enough to recall him in a memoir written many years later. Another Ionian Greek on the Peak Downs was Peter Colandres, who was mining at Hurley’s Gully at the Twenty-two Mile Rush when, in May 1864, he was involved in a ‘villainous and execrable robbery’. The victim was James Adams an ageing miner who, despite sickness and debility, had managed to accumulate between six and seven pounds weight of ‘the precious stuff’. Foolishly, he kept it with him instead of entrusting it to the gold commissioner. This was too tempting for a neighbouring miner, who attacked Adams in his tent one night and relieved him of his gold. A day or two later, Peter Colandres was overtaken on the road by Adams and a constable. They required the ‘quaking Ionian’ to present his billy, and it was found to contain the stolen gold. Colandres said the real robber was his Greek mate, known to him only as George, who had insisted on leaving the gold with Colandres while ‘George the Greek’ made his escape. After being examined before Mr Griffin, the Clermont Police Magistrate, Colandres was sent to gaol to await his trial. Four months later, at Rockhampton, he was brought before the judge without a lawyer to represent him; his English would have been as bad as any foreigner’s, but the court accepted police evidence of a confession using expressions such as, ‘I then entered the tent’ and ‘I then went to his assistance’. Colandres was convicted of stealing and sentenced to 12 months’ gaol with hard labour. A ‘special reporter’ for the Rockhampton Bulletin, described scenes of hope and enterprise in Clermont in June 1864. New buildings of various shapes and sizes were going up and new signs – ‘Alexander’s Store’, and ‘Allen’s Store’ – were adorning them. Among the many vehicles in the main street were drays arriving with goods to fill the newly opened shops and at least one ‘huge Yankee wagon’. It was reported, too, that Dr Candiottis had arrived in his buggy a few days before, bringing ‘unknown quantities of medicinal treasure for the effectual quelling of our local maladies’. The doctor was ‘building on his allotment, and settling down as a citizen of our fair town’. 177

As Candiottis was settling into a new life at Clermont, a new life was also beginning for the people of his ancestral island on the other side of the world. On 1 June, Greek soldiers landed on Corfu and on the following day the Greek flag was raised over the forts there, declaring the union of the Ionian Islands with Greece. The somewhat tepid agreement of the British government had made possible this peaceful transfer of power. Although reluctant to give up any part of its empire, Britain had at last accepted that these seven small islands off the west coast of Greece had neither the resources nor the strategic value to justify holding them against the wishes of the people. The new King of Greece, George I – until recently a Danish prince – was the brother of Alexandra, Princess of Wales, and therefore seen as a reliable guardian of British interests. Candiottis probably gave it little thought, but his nationality was no longer Ionian, it was Greek. The doctor’s services were needed in Clermont as there had been sickness in the wet season. The death of a newcomer named Luke Clinch had sent a scare through the town; a strong healthy-looking man on his arrival, he had ‘caught the prevailing malady and in a fortnight was in his grave’. The Bulletin’s correspondent regretted that an ‘unfortunate prevalence of fever and ague, about the time of the late rushes, frightened and drove away great numbers of men’. These comments did little justice to the suffering seen in the place. Overblown reports about the richness of the field had brought crowds of diggers to the place and many of them were laid low by dysentery and other ills. Doctoring and medicines and good food were not to be had, so men died, while others returned to the south with their health broken. The weather was now dry and healthy, and the worst had passed, but to help Clermont better cope with sickness in the next wet season, funds were being raised to build a hospital. In the meantime, the new medical hall being erected by Dr Candiottis was judged to be ‘first rank’, and an ornament to Clermont: ‘The sight of his most imposing array of drugs and bottles, is particularly calculated to inspire Peak Downs admiration, not to mention the unusual phenomenon in this, our bush town, of handsome glazed windows.’ 178

If newspaper reports were to be believed, mining was going on passably well at the Peak Downs, with the Twenty-two Mile, or Hurley’s Rush, yielding good returns. This is not to say that the field stood comparison with the rich goldfields of Victoria. Some small nuggets had been found: one weighing nearly six ounces from Rolfe’s Rush; a second, of seven ounces was brought from ‘that mysterious locality “over the range” ’; and one of four ounces was fossicked out of some old ground in Hurley’s Gully. A few Chinese miners had appeared and the number of men of all nationalities was growing. The development of reef mining had brought a steadier production of gold, so that a village had formed on the field and some Clermont storekeepers had opened branches there. As the season moved into winter the weather became dry and cold, ‘the nights intensely so, ice being apparent almost every morning of a considerable thickness in the standing pools’. By August 1864, Candiottis was participating in public affairs at Clermont. He was present at a meeting where Charles Buzacott announced his intention to establish a newspaper there to be known as the Peak Downs Telegram and Mining Record. Buzacott was an experienced newspaper man, having started the Chronicle at Maryborough and worked at the Bulletin in Rockhampton. He told the assembled townsmen that the cost of carting a heavy printing plant 230 miles from the port to Clermont was more than the business could support. In essence, he had called them together to pass around the hat. After some discussion, Mr Larnach of the Joint Stock Bank moved that a subscription list be opened to raise £100 towards the costs of carriage. The motion was seconded by Candiottis and carried unanimously. At the end of the meeting, Griffin, the police Magistrate, put his name down and, within minutes, most of the £100 was raised. Later, Candiottis would have reason to regret the charity he had extended to Buzacott and his newspaper. Charles Buzacott was an Englishman from Devonshire and approaching 30 years of age when he addressed that meeting at Clermont. In England he had been given up by the doctors as an incurable consumptive and, with his older brother William, emigrated to Australia in 1852 in the 179

hope that a hotter and drier climate might improve his health. However, it was William who would meet the fate foretold for Charles, dying prematurely of lung disease. In Sydney, Charles learned the compositor’s trade before travelling north to the new Colony of Queensland where he produced the first issue of The Maryborough Chronicle in November 1860; according to legend, it was printed in the kitchen of his slab humpy. The Buzacotts were staunch Anglicans and a vein of religiosity ran through Charles’s journalism. William Buzacott especially was a man of ‘strong and clearly defined religious convictions’. He had published a newspaper called the Christian Pleader in Sydney before following Charles to Queensland where the brothers were reunited in Rockhampton after William launched the Bulletin there. Soon after receiving the £100 subsidy from the townsmen of Clermont, Charles Buzacott promised that the first issue of his newspaper would be published early in October. It duly appeared and seems to have met expectations. Unfortunately, the gold rush that attracted so many men to Clermont did not meet expectations, and later that month a rush to new diggings at the Cape River deprived Buzacott of many of his readers. In his own words: ‘few able-bodied white men remained on the Peak Downs diggings, and about the only other inhabitants were 400 Chinamen who could not read newspapers’. A number of business houses in the town joined in the exodus and for some time Buzacott’s prospects seemed poor. To get through this period, which lasted for about six months, he dismissed his employees, except for one apprentice, and worked 16-hour days to make the paper pay. Towards the end of November, Buzacott hosted a meeting at the Telegram’s office to discuss the need for religious services on Sundays. Mr William Cave, the clerk of petty sessions, declared that Clermont’s failure to observe the Sabbath was ‘highly disgraceful in any civilised and settled community’, and as the town lacked a churchman he offered to conduct services himself. However, he did not intend ‘to conform strictly to the tenets of any particular sect or denomination, but simply to adopt 180

some form of service that might meet with most general approval’. At this point, Charles Buzacott moved: ‘That religious services be held in Clermont on Sunday, and that the form of worship be that used in the Church of England’. This met with unanimous approval and after some further discussion of organisational matters the meeting ended – again at Buzacott’s suggestion – with the singing of the ‘Hundreth Psalm’. A fortnight later, Buzacott reported in his newspaper that ‘the blacks’ had recently been menacing the native police barracks at the Belyando while the troopers were away. They were ‘followed by sub-inspector Coward and force on his return, and “dispersed”12 in the usual and approved manner’. Moving from reportage to commentary, Buzacott added: A certain native police officer lately boasted that in an attack of this nature he had personally shot eight darkies, but it would be improper in us to connect Mr Coward’s name with that transaction in the present state of the law. The boast, made by whom it may, is calculated to excite unpleasant sensations in the breast of humane persons, and we hope will not be repeated. If the blacks must be slaughtered, gentlemanly feeling would dictate a decorous reserve, even if there were a morbid taste for sanguinary performances. Much interest was shown in the new Clermont racecourse which had its first trial at the end of 1864. A match was organised for £5-a-side between a chestnut horse known as ‘Turpin’ and a little bay mare named ‘Zoe’. The mare won. Later, a number of the town’s worthies met at the Prince of Wales Hotel to see if an annual race meeting might be established at Clermont. There was plenty of enthusiasm among the men present, who included William Cave, John Winter and William Woodhouse. Candiottis 12 The quotation marks are Buzacott’s. When a Native Mounted Police patrol dealt with a troublesome group of Aborigines by shooting some of them, ‘dispersed’ was the accepted euphemism.

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and Fred Wichmann suggested that Mr Griffin preside, and on taking the chair he announced that £100 had already been subscribed towards their goal, but more would be needed. Wichmann suggested a figure of £200, and a committee was formed to raise the funds and move things forward. Four miles to the southwest, Clermont’s sister town of Copperfield was growing as the copper mine developed. The Peak Downs Copper Mining Company had built the first of many furnaces, and smelting operations were under way using skilled workers brought from South Australia. Getting suitable material for the furnace bottoms was one of many problems to be overcome, but eventually local quartz, crushed and fused, was found to meet the need. A week before Christmas 1864, five drays carrying eight tons of refined copper started their 11-day journey to a rudimentary port on the St Lawrence Creek at Broadsound. Those ‘bright ingots’, the first return from a large capital investment over the past two years, would put a shine in the eyes of the company’s Sydney shareholders. The future of Clermont and district seemed assured when a second procession of drays, carrying about six tons, set out for the port the next month. Men with few resources, wandering far out onto the downs, were paying the price as the hot summer took hold. Two skeletons lying next to a dry creek were reckoned to be victims of the previous summer and were buried where they lay. A man named Baulch was found in the bush but was too far gone from thirst and exhaustion to live. Two miners named Offley and Garside died of thirst during a prospecting expedition; their partner Drummond was lost, presumed dead. A German named Ewald would have suffered a similar fate if he had not been found and brought in to Clermont, where Candiottis attended to him. When two more sick and destitute men were brought into town to die, attention turned to the unsatisfactory state of the Clermont hospital. It had not been opened as the colonial government had yet to provide the £300 endowment needed to complete and furnish it: ‘the hospital stands unoccupied while sick and dying men lie about the town and diggings, exposed to the fervid heat of day and chilly damp of night’, the Telegram 182

lamented. Some months later the situation had improved. There was a balance of £109 to the credit of the hospital and the committee resolved to purchase furniture, bedding and utensils and open it at first for six patients. Drs Smith and Candiottis were invited to act pro tem as honorary visiting surgeons. One day in the winter of 1865, Mr Daly, the Sheriff’s bailiff, went missing and as it was said he was in ‘embarrassed circumstances’, there were concerns about him. The bush around the town was searched in all directions without finding the missing man. After a few days, a party out on foot came upon Mr Daly’s decomposing body and, as Mr Griffin was one of the group, there were few misgivings about burying it where it was found. Thomas John Griffin, as police magistrate, gold commissioner, inspector of police and commissioner of crown lands, was the government on the Peak Downs. A tall and well-built protestant Irishman, he had served in the British army and received medals for his service in the Crimean War. He had been with the police in Victoria and New South Wales and arrived in Rockhampton in charge of a police contingent sent up from Sydney at the time of the Canoona Gold rush in 1858. Griffin rose to the position of chief constable of Rockhampton and then went to Brisbane where the favourable notice of Governor Bowen, or a relationship with the sister of a government minister – perhaps both – are said to have assisted his further rise. Oscar de Satge considered him to be a smart and energetic man, as was needed in Clermont at a time when the town and district were growing rapidly, and also ‘very plausible’ with ‘a winning manner and a good deal of Irish wit’. Griffin was active too, going out on foot with his dogs, hunting kangaroo and wallaby around Clermont. De Satge further noted that, ‘though he was young then, about thirty-five to forty, we could see he had led a hard life, and he made no pretence to the refinements of a gentleman’. There was a clerk of petty sessions at Clermont, but Mr Cave was no match for Griffin, and the wielding of so much power by one man occasionally gave rise to resentment. The Clermont correspondent for 183

Rockhampton’s Northern Argus from time to time expressed some of the feeling felt by residents toward Mr T.J. Griffin, P. M.: Ducks have been of late abundant in our lagoon, and the sport of bagging them the only relaxation for dispirited townsmen; now, however, even that poor amusement is taken from us, the droit du Seigneur not having been duly observed. An ukase has been issued by the Autocrat of our little provincial town to the effect that no firing shall take place within the boundaries of the township, on pain of being mulcted in the sum of two pounds.13 Dr Candiottis’s attention was being sought for the usual complaints and some not so usual. A carrier returning from Hurley’s Rush was walking alongside his dray when it overturned while descending into a gully. The shaft struck the driver in the face, breaking his jaw and causing other injuries. The doctor was called, but he was unable to set the fractures. The drayman was later reported to be feeling better, but little hope was held for him. Frederick Wichmann, part-owner of the Prince of Wales Hotel, was standing at the bar when a man named Hurley – of Hurley’s Rush fame – furious at Wichmann for earlier throwing him off the premises, walked in and, without a word, plunged a Jennings sheath-knife into his chest. Candiottis came quickly and found the knife had pierced the right lung. As Wichmann was a man in the prime of life, there was at first some hope that he would recover, but inflammation set in and he died days later after great suffering. A bushman named Pringle was out riding when his revolver discharged, the bullet entering the lower part of his chest. He was brought into town and Candiottis attended him at the Sportsman’s Arms Hotel, but he was unable to extract the ball and poor Pringle faced an uncertain future. 13 Droit du Seigneur – right of the Lord; ukase – a decree in Tsarist Russia.

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At the Clermont dairy, a shriek from the cattle yard brought several people who found a cow goring Mrs Rose after she had gone in to look at a new-born calf. She was on the ground unconscious, with barely a shred of clothing left on her. The unfortunate woman was carried into the house where Candiottis treated her two broken arms and some dangerous wounds to her head, and after a few days she began to recover. Buzacott reported in his newspaper that gold production in the district had increased recently. Among the parcels reaching town was ‘one of 100 ounces deposited with the Commissioner for Escort by a Chinaman’. The report continued: ‘Some half dozen of these Celestial gentlemen have left Clermont within the past month bound for China direct, having made their “pile” on this goldfield, or in plain English, having departed with gold or cash averaging about £700 per man’. A few days before Christmas 1865, an unusual case was heard at the Clermont police court by Thomas Griffin. Dr Candiottis appeared to answer a charge by George Wildie, an auctioneer, that the doctor had used threatening language towards him. Candiottis pleaded with the magistrate. ‘There is no lawyer here, your Worship, to protect my interests, and I do not understand English law. I hope some allowance will be made for me’, to which Mr Griffin replied, ‘Every allowance will be made for you, Dr Candiottis, and I will see that your interests do not suffer from that cause.’ Wildie then testified that on the previous Saturday afternoon, Candiottis had come to his premises when he was lying in bed and putting an embrocation or balm on his leg. The leg had been bruised when he struck it against a tree while horse riding. He said the doctor came close to his bed, and slapped him on the leg with his open hand, he thought ‘more in joke than anything else’. Wildie asked him not to do it, as the leg was painful. The doctor then noticed Wildie’s bottle of embrocation and asked him how he ‘dared’ get anything of the kind from anyone but himself – that he was the only medical man here, and that Wildie ought to have got it from him. According to Wildie, the doctor then uttered his threat: ‘May my soul burn in hell, if I don’t give you fits if I ever get you in my Hands’. 185

Wildie responded, ‘Doctor, you can’t mean what you say!’ and the doctor replied, ‘By God I do’. Questioned by Mr Griffin, Wildie conceded that he did not apprehend any danger from Dr Candiottis while he had health and strength, but in case of being thrown from a horse, as he had been twice that week, and receiving any injury, he should fear bodily harm from Dr Candiottis if he were called in. Wildie then added: ‘I don’t wish to press this charge; I only wish people to know what they might expect if they do not keep friendly with the defendant.’ Mr Griffin repeated his question, and Wildie replied that he was not in bodily fear while in health. The case was accordingly dismissed. Candiottis’s bedside manner perhaps left something to be desired, although it might be excused by cultural differences: something acceptable to a Greek might seem less so to an Anglo-Australian. Perhaps too, the doctor might have shown less concern for his commercial interests. But these were lapses in manners, not crimes. Wildie’s lame prosecution nevertheless brought a fierce denunciation of Candiottis from Buzacott’s Telegram: … there can be but one opinion as to our duty, as journalists, to give expression to the general feeling of disgust which pervades the community at the malignity of a man who deems the bed of sickness a fit time for the infliction of ‘infernal torture’ upon his adversaries, or upon those who do not choose to employ him on every slight attack of illness. The offence against morality and decency disclosed in Mr Wildie’s evidence, though not apparently an infringement of the law, is a moral crime of a most serious nature, and its gravity is not in any degree lessened by the frequency with which it has of late been committed by our ‘only medical man’. This is not the first, second, or third time that certain residents of Clermont have been threatened with the tortures of perdition when they get into Dr Candiottis’ hands, and Mr 186

Wildie has done a public service in bringing the delinquent formally to the bar of public opinion. We earnestly invite the attention of the Medical Board to this matter, and submit that whatever surgical skill the offender may possess, he has become morally disqualified for practising in the honourable and gentlemanly profession to which he claims to belong. This outburst might be better understood in the light of recent events that seemed to cast Candiottis as Buzacott’s opponent in church and politics. The first of these was a meeting at the courthouse, presided over by Father Lonergan, to consider whether a Catholic church might be erected in Clermont. One of the non-Catholics in attendance was Griffin, who said he had been pleased at the arrival of Father Lonergan at Clermont as the district had lacked a churchman of any denomination. Candiottis, also not a Catholic, proposed that a subscription list be opened, and that everyone present attach his name to it. An amount of £129 10s. was raised in minutes and a Catholic church was opened in the town some months later. The second event, and perhaps the more serious in Buzacott’s eyes, was a meeting of electors at the courthouse to nominate a member for the Queensland legislative assembly. The electors, qualified by years of residence and property, were at that time a very small group. The returning officer – Griffin, of course – called for nominations of a person to replace the former representative, Mr Davis. Dr Candiottis rose and nominated Roderick Travers, the owner of Malvern Downs Station. Clermont’s founding storeman and inn-keeper, John Winter, seconded Candiottis’s nomination and eight of the fourteen electors present raised their hands to elect Travers. Roderick Travers was, of course, a squatter, a class for which there was some antipathy in the town, and against which Buzacott would increasingly voice his opposition. Charles Buzacott was by now aware that Spiridion Candiottis was a force in Clermont and district. He commanded respect due to his reputation as a medical man of ‘rare skill’ and cleverness. His personality, 187

which ranged from bon vivant, generous host and affable billiard player at one ambit, to warring litigant and political combatant at the other, was certainly engaging. He may have been, ‘rough in manner and fierce in looks’, but he was also a man of ‘magnificent physique’, and a presence in any gathering. One morning in February 1866, Edward Gaden and his brother Robert, who were driving stock towards the Gulf, arrived at Peak Downs Station. Graham Burnett, the manager, saw them come in. Edward Gaden was on horseback and, according to Burnett, ‘his brother was driving a bullock dray; there was a black gin on the dray, chained with a bullock chain; she was crying’. The scene Burnett described was fraught with danger: ‘there were blacks about, and they did not seem to like her being chained to the dray’. He urged the Gaden brothers to let her go. As the dray was moving off, the Aboriginal woman struggled and screamed so much that an Aboriginal man known as ‘Peter’, came running. The man was unarmed, but Edward Gaden became alarmed and drew his revolver. There were two other Aboriginal men standing nearby, one of them holding a tomahawk and a waddy. According to Graham Burnett, ‘Peter ran towards him, put up his hands, and said “baal” [no]’. Gaden then fired his revolver and shot him through the left breast. Peter was taken down to a water-hole by his brethren where Burnett saw him lying ‘with blood about the breast and a hole; I saw the hole’. But Burnett did not see Peter dead and nor did any other white man, and as the law courts at the time would not accept the word of an Aborigine, there was no-one who could swear to Peter’s demise. In the Peak Downs Telegram, Charles Buzacott deplored the AttorneyGeneral’s decision to try Edward Gaden for murder: Mr Gaden has only been guilty of an action which few of our pioneers could truthfully plead innocence of; and Mr Burnett, in furnishing materials for a capital charge with so much alacrity, was perhaps rather too reckless of consequences. 188

Cold blooded murder should be severely punished, and we do not share in the common prejudice which would not allow a white man to be hung for a black’s murder. The Divine law which ordains that ‘Whose sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed’, applies equally to black and white. But where active warfare exists between races and hostile collisions frequently occur, it is manifestly impossible to judicially demand blood for blood. The aboriginal race of this country having proved incapable of civilisation or of legal restraint, must be kept in subjection by forcible means. At Gaden’s trial in Rockhampton, the attorney-general conceded there was no evidence that Peter, the Aboriginal man, was dead. He informed the court, ‘There was a failure of proof, and he could not carry the case any further.’ At this, the judge, Chief Justice Sir James Cockle, directed the jury to acquit. Some might have wondered why the attorney-general did not bring a charge against Gaden for which there was evidence, namely wounding with intent to do bodily harm. The newspapers reported a further exchange as Edward Gaden was leaving the dock: ‘ “Your Honour,” he asked, “do I leave this without a stain on my character?” His Honour (vehemently), “I am surprised at your so addressing me – you are simply discharged.” ’ Another side of the ‘active warfare’ between the races was seen by Candiottis when he was called away to Tryphena Vale station on the Mackenzie River. There he examined a body found lying among rushes in a lagoon. It proved to be a shepherd named Julius Kitchel who was missing from his hut about a mile away. There was every indication that Kitchel had been murdered by Aborigines. ‘The body was frightfully mutilated, and a spot about a dozen yards from where the corpse lay, was evidently the site of a deadly struggle: human hair hanging about the grass, and a broken tomahawk handle stuck in the ground. Everything the unfortunate man had was stolen.’ When spring came in 1866, the Peak Downs were in drought and 189

there was little sign of it easing. During the past two years there had been only six inches of rain, with some addition from local thunderstorms. Surface water was scarce but the downs pastoralists were still watering tens of thousands of sheep from deep wells that were proving to be reliable. The calls on Doctor Candiottis continued. A young man who had been lost in the bush for several days, was brought into Clermont in a state of ‘temporary insanity’, and placed in the hospital for treatment. Another man reached the town suffering from a terrible gunshot wound to his right hand. He had been careless with a loaded double-barrel gun, holding it by the muzzle and dragging it along the ground after him. It suddenly discharged and his hand received the full force of the shot. He managed to staunch the blood by sinking the hand into a bag of flour and, with his arm in a sling, rode to Clermont where Candiottis attended to the wound. An elderly married woman who kept a small store at Lillyvale, cut her throat with a razor, making a wound nearly seven inches long, grazing the windpipe, and just stopping short of the right carotid artery. Fortunately the lady was very plump and most of the injury was to ‘fat and flesh’. As the year neared its end, there was trouble with ‘the blacks’ on Peak Vale run. Buzacott reported in the Telegram that one of the officers of the Native Police had a narrow escape during a skirmish: ‘it appears, a sable warrior caught Mr Henry by the leg, and attempted to drag him off his horse. The officer drew his revolver, took aim, and pulled the trigger, but the weapon missed fire, and the blackfellow unflinchingly maintained his hold. Mr Henry then, in desperation, threw his pistol at the savage, but without effect. Matters had begun to look serious, when a black trooper, observing his officer’s predicament, rode up and effected a rescue.’ Buzacott concluded, ‘it is whispered, the venturesome savage was sent out of this world of grief and pain, dying in the hope of jumping up white fellow at no distant date’. After serving for only three months, Roderick Travers of Malvern Station had resigned his seat in the legislative assembly for personal reasons, and another meeting of electors was called to instal a successor. Candiottis 190

proposed Mr John Douglas and his speech, reported in the newspaper, injected a little levity into the occasion: ‘Reference had been made to the English heart – was that because he (Dr Candiottis) was a foreigner? (Laughter.) Why, he had experienced as much ingratitude from Englishmen as from any people in the world. Was ingratitude a characteristic of the Greek heart then? (Laughter). Though not an Englishman, he appreciated free institutions; and no one in Australia should be able to boast that Clermont was his borough. (Hear, hear).’ Charles Buzacott, now a qualified elector, proposed Mr G.E. Forbes, Esq., and on a show of hands the nomination was accepted. In the new year, when temperatures were well over a hundred degrees in the shade, there was an episode stamped by the Telegram as ‘disgusting and tragic’. A woman named Mary Ryan was found dead on the roadside some 25 miles from town dressed in nothing but ‘a man’s Crimean shirt’. A week before, Mary, and Jemmy Montgomery with whom she lived, had left the copper mine in a dray for a station on the Belyando, taking with them her child of four or five years, a case of gin, and two gallons of brandy or rum. The woman had later been seen ‘riding on the dray in a state of nudity’, and afterwards had fallen from it heavily and died. All that hard liquor, little water and a burning sun had combined to end her unhappy life. The Telegram unfeelingly noted that ‘Mary Ryan was a notorious character on the diggings two years ago, having been known as “The Laundress” .’ The same issue of the newspaper reported two more matters of more than passing interest. The medical committee’s guarantee of £500 to an approved surgeon during his first year in the district had received two responses. Buzacott’s satisfaction was palpable: ‘the admitted want of a second medical man for this district will soon be supplied’. The other item of importance related to a move led by Oscar de Satge to have Mr T.J. Griffin transferred from his various posts at Clermont. The Telegram noted, ‘a letter has just been received from the Colonial Secretary’s Office, stating that the Government are not at present taking any action for Mr Griffin’s removal’. Oscar de Satge was a power on the Peak Downs, a man whose land, 191

wealth and aristocratic bearing placed him in the highest colonial circles. His family origins were French, his father, the Vicomte de Satge de St Jean, having been exiled for his part in a royalist revolt. Oscar was born in England in 1836 and educated at Rugby School. He and his younger brother Henry arrived at Melbourne looking for adventure in 1853. An introduction to the Victorian governor, Charles La Trobe, provided him with public service posts in Melbourne and Bendigo, but he decided in 1854 to go north and establish himself in the pastoral industry. In 1861, backed by wealthy investors, Oscar de Satge and his partner, Gordon Sandeman, acquired pastoral leases over a vast area of the Peak Downs. From 1863, most of it was sold off for an excellent profit: Huntly to Mr Browne; Malvern to Mr Roderick Travers; Gordon Downs to Mr Smith Travers; Retro to Mr Turnbull, among others. De Satge retained Wolfang Station, the choicest block with its homestead nine miles out of Clermont. Wolfang occupied all the land around Clermont, except for the square mile (640 acres) on which the town stood. This gave rise to a grievance amongst some townsmen who wanted paddocks where they could graze stock, and who could be heard to complain loudly how all the land had been taken by ‘Oscar le Grand’. Many years later, de Satge explained in a memoir why he had decided that Thomas John Griffin should go from Clermont. There were complaints about Griffin’s accumulation of power and his arbitrary decisions. However, de Satge was annoyed by Griffin’s frequent absences from the town due to his engagement to a young woman in Rockhampton. These absences threw much work on the local bench, of which de Satge was the senior magistrate. He sent a list of charges to the government and an inquiry was held in Brisbane. According to de Satge, the failure of his witness to attend ‘owing to sickness and other causes’, allowed Griffin to escape an adverse finding. After this, Griffin ‘acted more independently than ever; his absences at Rockhampton became more and more frequent, and it was said he was getting into debt’. A great deal more would be heard about Griffin in the year to come. Early in 1867, Candiottis was called to Copperfield where a small 192

boy had succumbed to sunstroke. ‘It appears that the little fellow, in his play, had thrown aside his hat and thus exposed his head to the sun. After playing some time he fell down in convulsions and vomited very much. Candiottis was immediately sent for, but found the child past recovery.’ Readers of the Telegram were warned that their children’s heads must be well protected on the Peak Downs, ‘where the sun has such power’. That year also saw the opening of the Clermont state primary school. It was of little consequence for Emma Candiottis’ boy, young Joseph, as he was now 17 years old and done with formal education. He would have had little of that in the goldfield camps where he spent his early childhood, but he enjoyed the advantage of parents able to provide tuition and to enrol him in boarding schools. For Eugenie Candiottis the new school was a blessing as she was just 10 years old. When Oscar de Satge’s company offered for sale most of its extensive leaseholds on Peak Downs, two brothers appeared as buyers, scions of ‘Travers and Sons’, the London tea importing firm. Mr Roderick Travers purchased Malvern Downs and took up residence there with his young wife, Charlotte, while Smith Travers would later purchase Gordon Downs. Perhaps the idea of ruling an estate extending over hundreds of square miles and set in an exotic landscape seemed romantic to these Londoners, but the reality was different. In 1866, drought set in and the next year Charlotte Travers became seriously ill. Candiottis was called in and prescribed a change to the cooler climate of New South Wales as her best hope of recovery. Roderick Travers feared that his wife would not survive the journey unless she had the doctor at her side. Candiottis refused to go; he was the only medical man in the district and the return journey to Sydney would keep him away for three weeks. However, Travers insisted and the doctor eventually agreed. So Charlotte Travers, accompanied by her husband and child, a nurse and Candiottis, made a slow procession down to Rockhampton. There they boarded the steamer, the James Paterson, and travelled down the river where they anchored that evening at the Lower Flats. The next morning at three o’clock the ship moved off again, steaming 193

past the Keppel islands, rounding Cape Capricorn and venturing onto the open sea where, at about dawn, Charlotte Travers died. They were then 100 miles out from port and there was no question of returning. Candiottis accompanied the sad little party on the rest of their journey and after six days, on the morning of 4 March, they reached the wharf at Sydney. Candiottis did not know that a telegram sent from Rockhampton awaited him there, and that it contained the most terrible news. In Clermont it was already old news, reported by Buzacott in his newspaper a week earlier: On Sunday afternoon, Miss Eugenie Candiottis, an interesting and vivacious little girl of some eleven summers, terminated her brief career. The circumstances attending this sad bereavement were uncommonly painful. Eugenie was an only daughter, the idol of fond parents – a bright, lovable, budding flower, giving promise of an early and enviable bloom – and her premature death has cast a gloom over many a countenance outside the family circle. On Saturday week, when Dr Candiottis was called to attend a patient at Malvern Downs, he left his little daughter apparently in perfect health, not suspecting that within a few hours his skill would be of priceless value in her struggles with man’s last enemy. But early in last week fever set in, and on Thursday a messenger was dispatched for the Doctor, who, it was found, had left Malvern on Tuesday to accompany his patient to Rockhampton. The messenger attempted to follow, but his horses giving way at Lilyvale, and being unable to get fresh ones, he was obliged to give up the pursuit. But meanwhile the disease progressed, and an excessive discharge of blood from the head defied treatment and soon destroyed the vital power. The funeral took place at 4 p.m. yesterday, and was well attended, the Catholic litany for the dead being read by Mr Griffin, P.M., to an 194

assemblage apparently deeply affected by the melancholy event. At the close of the ceremony, Mr Griffin (by request) thanked those present for their kindly sympathy with the bereaved family. Dr Candiottis has not yet returned, and is quite unaware of the ill news that awaits him. On landing at Sydney, Spiridion Candiottis learned that his dearly loved daughter was dead, or as Buzacott put it, had ‘terminated her brief career’. Two days later, on 6 March 1867, Candiottis boarded the James Paterson again for the grim voyage back to Rockhampton. In The Sydney Morning Herald of the same day, two death notices appeared together: On the 24th February at Clermont, Peak Downs, EUGENIE PENELOPE, the only and beloved daughter of S. Candiottis Esq. M.D. On the 27th February, on board the James Paterson, on the passage from Rockhampton to Sydney, CHARLOTTE, wife of Roderick Travers Esq., of Malvern Downs, Queensland, aged 24 years. Candiottis returned to Clermont to mourn with Emma and Joseph and to grieve at Eugenie’s freshly dug grave. There was blame to be heaped on a guilty head. She had called for her father and he had not come. The doctor would not be left to his sorrow. He returned to find himself at the centre of a miserable argument. The Peak Downs hospital operated as a kind of benevolent institution to care for the destitute sick of the district and was funded from government and community contributions. Candiottis was paid a salary of £250 a year for attending to the patients there, and retained fully the right to continue his private practice. Some months earlier he had clashed with the hospital administration over the admission of a man injured in a fall from a horse. Candiottis insisted that as 195

the man had the means to pay his fee, he would not treat him as a hospital patient, and if the committee insisted he do so, he would resign as the medical officer. The doctor won that argument although the injured man avoided paying Candiottis’s fee by having his broken ribs set by a bushdoctoring publican. The committee then decided that Candiottis had acted improperly and by a majority of one vote, resolved to seek his resignation. Candiottis answered with an angry letter published in the Telegram, after which tempers subsided and things went on as before. However, when Candiottis went off to Sydney with his patient Charlotte Travers, his enemies – Buzacott among them – organised against him. After he had been gone for 17 days, a meeting of the hospital committee noted that the doctor had failed to formally advise them of his absence. Indeed, he had left the Colony, and this was tantamount to resignation. They dismissed Candiottis from his post, paid him out to the end of February, and took steps to appoint a new medical officer. The committee soon realised that they had acted hastily as the hospital no longer had a medical officer and it would take time to appoint one. A few days after Candiottis returned to Clermont, a man described in Buzacott’s newspaper as ‘a poor half-witted fellow without a shilling’ was admitted to the hospital with a broken leg. There being no other doctor available, Candiottis was called in, but as he was no longer the medical officer, or in receipt of the salary, he asked that his fee amounting to £30 be paid by the hospital. This led to much argument, but the doctor was adamant; the money was raised in the town by subscription, and he proceeded to set the man’s fractured leg. These events led Charles Buzacott to pronounce a kind of ‘anathema’ on Spiridion Candiottis. He gave vent to it with religious ferocity in the Peak Downs Telegram of 2 April 1867: Clermont has been able to command the services of only one qualified medical practitioner, Dr Candiottis, who is a man of Australasian as well as Clermont notoriety. He is a surgeon of rare skill, adamantine sensibility, and long experience of 196

the medical profession. Personally, he is a man of considerable polish, and a decided bon vivant. To what circumstance this remote district is indebted for his presence it is unnecessary to explain, but, clearly, in settling here he has hid his brilliant light under a bushel. Sufficient for us it is that he is the only man who can legally prescribe or compound medicines for our population of from two to three thousand souls. Of course he has a large practice, although using his best efforts to limit it. Without fear of contradiction it may be asserted that he has, for a year past, enjoyed a larger income than any other man in the district; so whatever his capacities for work may be, he has unquestionably been in receipt of two or three men’s pay.14 No wonder, therefore, that steps have been more than once taken to procure a second doctor, although up to the present time with no other effect than to make the promoters so many marks for extortion should sickness or accident place them at the mercy of our irrepressible despot; and this, so far from being an ill-natured remark of ours, is but a reproduction of the Doctor’s frequent boast. The Sword of Damocles has been suspended over the heads of those who thought a second doctor indispensable, and the Hand of Friendship has been held out to those – and only those – who cared not or were content as willing tools to work the Monarch’s will. Buzacott warmed to his subject: In Clermont we have an hospital, with officers and a committee of management. The late Surgeon received £250a-year paid promptly on the first Tuesday in each month 14 Later in life Buzacott would not deny himself a £20,000 share in a Brisbane newspaper and a £10,000 mansion.

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– for advice and medicines; and as the number of patients did not average more than three or four, the sum named was considered an equivalent for the services rendered and the medicines supplied. The Surgeon was, perforce, Dr Candiottis; and although from the first he was offensively despotic and dictatory, the Committee, or rather a majority of them, bore patiently with what they considered the doctor’s infirmities, believing that under his charge the Hospital was being efficiently conducted. Early in January, however, the Surgeon point blank refused admission to a man who had sustained severe injuries by a fall from his horse. The man was duly provided with a subscriber’s ticket, but the Doctor, when remonstrated with in a friendly way by a member of committee whom he had consulted, declared that the patient having money was not a fit subject for the Hospital, and that if the Committee chose to admit him, he (the Surgeon) would instantly resign. The sick man was willing to pay hospital fees, and any reasonable expenses in addition but the Doctor was inexorable, and the patient had to be taken to a public house. Fortunately the publican was a sort of bush doctor, and mended the poor fellow’s broken ribs. Otherwise, the legally qualified Surgeon, who had discovered that the poor man was possessed of forty pounds would have left him penniless. Thus the vulture missed his lawful prey by pursuing his quarry too eagerly. The matter was brought before the next Committee meeting by the secretary and after a long debate it was unanimously resolved that the Surgeon had acted improperly; and afterwards by a majority of one a motion was carried [by the Committee] requiring him to show cause why he should not resign. Of this resolution the doctor took no notice in an official way, contenting himself with publishing an intemperate letter in 198

this journal and continuing to hold office. Buzacott aired more of the doctor’s misdeeds and then laid bare the transgressions that led to his dismissal: Dr Candiottis again left town without acquainting the Committee of his intention or probable time of absence. There were then five or six patients in the Hospital, two of them in a critical condition, and one actually died a day or two afterwards. At the Committee meeting held on the 5th March, when the Surgeon had been absent seventeen days, the Vice-President said the Doctor had gone to Sydney, and after reprobating his conduct recommended the Committee to consider absence from the Colony tantamount to resignation, and to take immediate steps to procure another surgeon. This was unanimously assented to, and at the same meeting Dr Candiottis’ salary and allowance up to the end of February were passed. As this included payment for three weeks of the surgeon’s absence, the Committee were quite liberal enough with the Hospital funds. But Dr Candiottis thought otherwise, and on returning announced his intention of making the people of Clermont suffer for their temerity. On the eighth day after his return, a poor half-witted fellow – without a shilling in the world – sustained a compound fracture of the leg. Dr Candiottis came, saw, and went home again, leaving the poor wretch lying in his agony on the ground. Thirty pounds sterling was the smallest sum that would bribe Dr Avarice to do a humane act, and the amount had to be paid in cash before the surgeon would touch the patient. Full details of this circumstance appeared in our last issue; and everyone who read our admittedly accurate account must have perceived its damning effect upon the character 199

of the Doctor. It was, in point of fact, such an expose as a criminal on the gallows might have blushed at; and conscious of this fact, our intention was to have made or permitted no further allusion to the matter in these columns. But another offence has since been perpetrated, heartless enough to make the very stones cry out. Among our items of local intelligence will be found a statement of this second outrage, so that the details need not be repeated here. Buzacott went so far as to accuse Candiottis of exploiting the public sympathy extended to him on the death of Eugenie: Were these solitary instances of extortion, one might be disposed to deal less severely with their perpetrator. But they are professedly the results of a determined course of action – cooly resolved upon while public sympathy was yet warm on account of a touching family bereavement – heartlessly fixed ere the flowers could wither on a newly tenanted grave. While the heart of the public was yet soft – while a desire existed to forget the past – the chief object of sympathy was resolving in future to have his ‘pound of flesh’ from every unhappy being requiring surgical aid. Truly the fires of affliction permanently harden the heart they cannot melt. There is, however, a light in which our doctor may not have examined his conduct. To be pointed out as a Harpagon,15 with the finger of scorn, may not provoke a sigh; but in the event of thirty pounds not being raised on the next casualty, and the result proving fatal, would not the Doctor refusing his assistance be indicted for manslaughter? However careless of reputation a man may be, surely no one among us would 15 Harpagon: after the miserly character and protagonist of Molière’s The Miser (1668).

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court the celebrity of a Rush, a Manning, or a Palmer;16 and we will not assert that even the subject of our strictures is capable of rivalling their crimes. It may not, however, be irrelevant to observe that even in this world the wicked do not always escape; but if human laws prove ineffectual to punish every delinquent, there is a tribunal before which we must all eventually bow. The heartless may oppress and grow fat upon the proceeds of extortion – the destitute sick may die from indifference and neglect – but a day of reckoning will surely come – perhaps is near at hand. The parable of Dives and Lazarus (see Luke xviv) provides a fitting moral to this subject. We quote a verse or two: ‘And it came to pass, that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into Abraham’s bosom: the rich man also died, and was buried; and in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom. And he cried and said, Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am tormented in this flame. And Abraham said, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed.’ Buzacott’s ‘anathema’ was also published in the Christian Pleader in Sydney, and his more colourful libels were circulated widely by newspapers in Queensland and in the other colonies. If Candiottis was not before ‘a man of Australasian as well as Clermont notoriety’, he surely was now. In Rockhampton, Charles Buzacott’s brother, William, always stood ready to republish in the Bulletin articles from the Peak Downs Telegram: On Sunday morning Robert Allen, a servant of Messrs. Brown and Porter, fell off a horse and broke his leg. Dr 16 Rush, Manning and Palmer were notorious murderers in 19th century Britain.

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Candiottis was called, but refused to set the limb, saying the people of Clermont had treated him badly – the Hospital Committee had dismissed him while absent from home, somebody called him a dog, and he would let them see he was a dog, and unless £30 were given him (£10 had been previously offered and refused) as a fee, he would not touch the leg. The £30 was made up by public subscription on the spot, and the Doctor set the bone and pocketed the money. The brothers Buzacott seemed bent on driving Candiottis out of Clermont: The Doctor announces his intention of clearing out of Clermont soon. He evidently hasn’t a leg to stand on, and the sooner he gives leg bail to Clermont the better for the corporal health and the soundness of his members Timeo Danaos et dona ferrentes; but £30, including coppers, are not to be picked up every day.17 And two weeks later: Dr Candiottis is scattering Greek fire in all directions in Clermont. A hospital patient, named Moore, sprained his leg which had been broken about two months ago. Dr Candiottis refused to attend him. On Sunday morning, on receiving two guineas, he visited the sufferer and demanded in writing £30 before he took up the case. It being, ‘your money or your life’, the committee had no alternative and paid the money. Candiottis did not take it all lying down. He commenced a libel action against Charles Buzacott. He also placed an advertisement in the Northern 17 Latin: ‘I fear the Danaans [Greeks], even those bearing gifts’; or in its modern form, ‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts’.

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Argus at Rockhampton refuting one of the more immediately damaging lies: ‘Dr Candiottis begs to inform his friends and the public, that it is not his intention to leave the district of Clermont as stated in the Bulletin of April 2nd, 1867.’ Nor was Candiottis without friends. Oscar de Satge, calling himself ‘A Friend of Both Parties’, but plainly no friend of Charles Buzacott, wrote in a long letter to the Northern Argus: As I gaze on the corpse of my friend Candiottis, slain poor man by the Christian Pleader and Clermont Telegram of the 2nd April last, I muse upon the victim and the avenger, trying in a desultory sort of way to ascertain the special qualities which have allotted to the one the mission of suffering, and to the other the privilege of punishment. The more I think the less satisfactory become my cogitations, and I actually find myself at length impiously comparing the two men to the disadvantage of the scriptural quoter ... Those who have read the article in question, equally bad as it is in taste, expression, and purpose, will rightly appreciate the value at any time and under any circumstances of the writer’s friendships, and see another instance of the fiendish malice a professing Christian may exhibit. De Satge examined the accusations made against Candiottis, and concluded: The obvious course of deferring Dr Candiottis’ dismissal till the installation of his successor, would have prevented the occurrence of any of these distressing scenes, which by a most one-sided reflection from one of the parties mainly concerned in the blunder, have been used as a stalking horse for the ruin of a man, superior in every sense to his assailants. One can hardly wonder at the spread of infidelity when we find 203

a literary journal printing damnation wholesale, publishing a man as a Rush, a Manning, or a Palmer, and pharisaically quoting Scripture for the promotion of private interest. … Harpagons sometimes handle holy books and wield dirty pens, and I form one of many who will gladly put down £10 towards taking proceedings against this one for libel. Another correspondent wrote: … as a Clermont resident, cognisant of some real sterling facts, I beg leave for insertion in your journal of one incident alone in Dr Candiottis’ favour, which is worth thousands of untrue assertions in reference to the above-named gentleman. … It is no other than that he has actually handed over to the Catholic Church and its pastor, as a testimony of regard for said community, the use of £100, without a shilling interest, in order to enable the Catholics here to get rid of the Building Society, and give them time to pay above debt off their church. We have learned this from the Rev. Father Lonergan, who told us of it from the altar on Sunday last. Hence I am confident that this one act alone is quite sufficient to enable the doctor (himself not a Catholic) to maintain his character here, as he has hitherto done in the hearts of the grateful and sensitive, as a hospitable gentleman, a most clever, active doctor, and a truly good neighbour. Those are his qualities, no matter what the ungrateful may say of him. … I shall enclose you my card, but withhold my name from publication, as this is such an uncharitable district. The first of Candiottis’s libel actions against Charles Buzacott was heard by the Northern District court when it came to Clermont in July 1867. Buzacott had applied for a jury trial but, after sniffing the wind, 204

he withdrew the application, calculating that he would do better with a judge alone. Candiottis was claiming £200 damages and costs for an advertisement published in the Telegram headed, ‘Clermont Cook Shop’, and signed, ‘Physique’.18 Three witnesses swore that they believed the advertisement referred to Dr Candiottis alone, among them William Woodhouse, superintendent of the Peak Downs copper-smelting works. Buzacott sought to escape liability by saying he was absent when the advertisement came into his office, but he refused to identify the party who submitted it. The judge said it was a ‘grossly libelous production’, and urged Buzacott to divulge the author’s name, otherwise he would share his guilt. The plaintiff had been libelled and was ‘entitled to substantial damages’. It was ‘a mean and cowardly way of attacking a man’, the action of ‘a snake in the grass’. After such comments from the bench, Candiottis must have felt some disappointment at being awarded only £20 damages and costs. Candiottis donated his winnings from the law suit to the Catholic Sisters of Mercy in Brisbane, and served Buzacott with a second libel writ. Now the doctor complained of the long article in the Telegram that misrepresented his conduct, compared him with infamous murderers, and described him as a ‘vulture’, a ‘Harpagon’, and more. He vastly increased the amount of his claim, seeking damages of £5,000 but, once again, he was outfoxed by Buzacott, who managed to stall the proceedings for nearly a year and steer the dispute into arbitration ‘as the only possible way of stopping ruinous litigation’. Buzacott must have been relieved by the arbitrators’ ruling, which required him to pay Candiottis’s legal costs of £75 and bear his own costs of a similar amount. He also had to publish an apology in the Telegram but in terms that were anything but grovelling. His libels against Candiottis had cost him about £180 but in his mind he had suffered nobly ‘for advocating, perhaps too zealously, the cause of the people of Clermont’. Some of them agreed enough to help defray his legal costs. 18 The libellous advertisement appeared on 11 June 1867 in an issue of the Peak Downs Telegram which has since been lost.

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Amidst all the feuding, Clermont was taking some control of its destiny. A provincial council for the district was approved by the colonial government, with Messrs de Satge, Buzacott, Candiottis and Harden appointed as members. They invited miners and others interested in the goldfields to suggest sites for dams to facilitate gold mining and relieve the effects of drought. A municipality for Clermont and Copperfield was also established, with Reimers, Winter and Buzacott elected as aldermen for the Clermont ward, and Winter as the Mayor. The autocratic reign of T.J. Griffin was coming to an end, and one of the last public occasions in Clermont to be graced by his presence was on a Sunday in August 1867 when he read a graveside service for Wilmot Harpur, the accountant at the A.J.S. Bank. A notice in the government gazette had led people to believe that Griffin would soon be leaving Clermont to take up a position elsewhere, but weeks passed without any change. In late September, Mayor John Winter was persuaded to chair a public meeting ‘to give expression to public feeling on the subject’, and Candiottis obliged with a long and detailed account of the police magistrate’s alleged faults and improprieties. It may be that he was doing the bidding of his ally, Oscar de Satge, as his own dealings with Griffin had not given the doctor much cause for complaint. The correspondent for the Northern Argus was not impressed with ‘Dr Candiottis’ impeachment’, which he thought went a little too far: ‘He very honorably disdains all intention of betraying private confidences, but somehow or other they escape him in spite of himself.’ The meeting concluded with resolutions accusing Griffin of ‘despotic, arbitrary and partial’ conduct and calling for his removal for the ‘inefficient and unsatisfactory discharge of his magisterial duties’. A memorial was to be sent to the minister expressing these sentiments, but the wheels of government were already turning. The telegraph line had recently reached Clermont, and when the new telegraph office opened its doors, Griffin learned via telegram that he would be leaving to take up a lesser role as assistant gold commissioner at Rockhampton. He was given a 206

farewell dinner in the new billiard room adjoining the Leichhardt Hotel. Thirty-five men, representing pastoral, mining, and commercial interests on the Peak Downs, sat at two tables, the mayor presiding at one, and Captain Dennis of the Peak Downs Copper Company at the other. There was a toast in Griffin’s honour and he took it as proof that the ‘calumnies’ voiced about him were not generally endorsed. Buzacott was there and later wrote in his newspaper, ‘Several of the speakers referred to the late contemptible attack upon Mr Griffin, and pointed out that many of the statements made by Dr Candiottis were absolutely false, while others were perversions of the truth. The references were invariably received with loud cheers.’ Candiottis later wrote to the Northern Argus to say that the movement against Griffin originated with Buzacott. He said it was Buzacott who wrote the requisition to the mayor for the public meeting about Griffin, and also the two resolutions carried there. In a long and disingenuous reply, Buzacott admitted to drafting the documents, but said he merely acted as the scribe for Candiottis. The men who toasted and cheered Thomas John Griffin at his farewell dinner must have recalled the occasion with acute embarrassment the following month, when news came of his arrest on suspicion of murdering two troopers of the Peak Downs Gold Escort and stealing the £4,000 in banknotes they were carrying. Troopers John Power and Patrick Cahill were travelling from Rockhampton up to Clermont when they camped at the upper crossing of the MacKenzie River. There, both men were shot through the head while sleeping. Suspicion fell upon Griffin because he was the last to see them alive; also, he seemed to know they had been shot before the bodies were examined. The police investigation and the trial revealed that Griffin had been leading a double life and had debts he could not pay; his recent demotion may have brought him to a crisis. He had become engaged to a young woman living at Rockhampton, but he already had a wife, having married a widow in Melbourne in 1857 and enjoyed her money until leaving her. She had demanded £100 a year from him for her 207

support, but the money was not being paid. Griffin also owed money to six Chinese miners who had lodged a parcel of gold with him some months earlier when he was gold commissioner at Clermont. At Rockhampton, Griffin removed £252 from the parcel of banknotes the troopers were to carry up to the A.J.S. Bank at Clermont, and paid out the Chinese who had been pestering him for their money. To cover up this theft, he murdered Power and Cahill at their camp and stole the rest of the money, expecting the crime to be blamed on bushrangers. But banknotes found in the pocket of his breeches, and some of those paid over to the Chinese miners, were traced back to the gold escort’s parcel, sealing Griffin’s fate. At his trial, upon the jury finding him guilty of murder, Griffin made a rambling address to the court and declared his innocence, but the judge had no reservations in sentencing him to death. He went to the scaffold at Rockhampton Gaol in June 1868, and firmly refused an invitation to confess. His last words, addressed to the hangman, were, ‘Go on. I am ready.’ The downs entered the spring of 1867 in fine condition, with abundant grass and water and the promise of a good wool clip. Potatoes grown near Clermont were ‘first-class’, and selling very cheap. The Telegram commented, ‘For this and many other blessings we have to thank that much-abused individual, John Chinaman’. Unfortunately, the rains had made the roads impassable. Buzacott could not get in a load of paper and had to produce his newspaper as a half-sheet. There was still space enough to complain about the squatters’ grip on the downs country: ‘The good land has been all retained, and it is perfectly useless to expect people to give a pound an acre for scrubby ridges and clay flats while the town is almost surrounded by land not surpassed in the Colony.’ It was a source of amusement in Clermont that Charles Laval, the barber, doubled as the town’s cordial maker, a combination that struck people as fairly strange. Another source of amusement – except to Candiottis – was Laval’s evident distaste for the doctor and a propensity to direct insults at him, such as asking Candiottis to prescribe medicines for his cat. For this and other slights and tricks, Candiottis took legal proceedings against the 208

Frenchman and won £35 damages and costs. To find this money Laval had to sell his freehold property in Drummond Street and was forced to take a low price. This would have been retribution enough for most men, but Candiottis went further and preferred a criminal charge of perjury against the barber, arising out of something he said in the court proceedings. There was sympathy for Laval who was seen as a harmless eccentric, and the news that the attorney-general would not be proceeding with the case met with general approval. As 1867 neared its end, news came that a Captain Charles Henry Lambert had been appointed as the new police magistrate. Lambert was an unknown quantity in Clermont and Buzacott commented, ‘whether a military man, jolly tar, mining captain, or an ardent volunteer, we are unable to conjecture’. In fact, Lambert was a military man, a captain in the 19th Regiment, and a veteran of the Crimean War. He had also seen active service in India. Oscar de Satge came to like this ‘brave soldier’, and years later would recall how at Wolfang, whenever ‘we saw him approaching on the plain, followed by Brown, his orderly, and a mob of kangaroo dogs, we always hailed his advent with pleasure’. Candiottis, too, liked the new police magistrate, sufficient reason for Buzacott to watch him closely. In January 1868, the Greek Orthodox monk Christophoros came to Clermont. He had travelled to India and the Orient raising funds for his Church, and the same mission had brought him to Australia. He had spent some time in Victoria where he met the Lagogiannis brothers in Melbourne and many other Greeks on the goldfields, and also visited Sydney. The monk was about 34 years of age and a deacon at the monastery known as Aisfygmenou on Mount Athos, and originally from Corfu. On reaching Brisbane, it appears that he called on Governor Bowen, who would have welcomed the opportunity to converse in Greek and exchange recollections of Corfu. Indeed, Bowen was sufficiently impressed with his visitor to provide him with a personally signed letter of introduction. From Brisbane, Christophoros continued his travels and in time arrived at Clermont. The only reason why Christophoros would travel to such a remote outpost would 209

be to meet Dr Candiottis, a fellow Greek and Corfiote, and a man of means and good reputation. The trip was probably fruitful given the doctor’s partiality for good causes and the favourable account Christophoros would later give of him. During his stay at Clermont, ‘Khristoforos Arsenios’, – his baptismal name – was naturalised as a British subject, something he could only have accomplished with the assistance of Dr Candiottis. Christophoros continued his fund-raising efforts in Queensland and eventually left Australia in a ship bound for California, which he reached after a voyage of 80 days. He continued his appeals there, and then all the way across the North American continent to the east coast, before sailing away to other parts of the world. Eventually Christophoros returned to Greece and some time later it was reported that he had found about 500 Greeks in Australia, most of them in Melbourne and Sydney, and the rest scattered across the country, and that they had acquired an acceptable social level. In his opinion, the foremost among them was Dr Spiridion Candiottis. There was an epilogue to Christophoros’s visit. His wanderings took him some years later to Algeria in North Africa where he was arrested by the French colonial authorities who doubted his claim to being a British subject. Charles Hardie Buzacott, by then at the Bulletin in Rockhampton, made a meal of the story, and his article was carried by other newspapers in Queensland and elsewhere: A PSEUDO-CLERICAL MENDICANT – Many of our readers will recollect a Greek priest, who under the title of Father Christopherus, travelled throughout Queensland some two or three years ago, soliciting subscriptions for a convent at Jerusalem. The rev. father was introduced to the colonists of Queensland by an autograph letter from his Excellency Sir George Ferguson Bowen, the then Governor, and succeeded, we believe, in obtaining subscriptions to a considerable amount. It will therefore be heard with some 210

surprise that the rev. beggar has fallen among the phillistines at Orleanville, in Algeria, where he is now under arrest for introducing himself with spurious documents. It seems that when apprehended, the rev. father claimed to be a British subject naturalised in Queensland, and that the French authorities have written to an official gentleman here to ascertain the truth or falsity of the allegation. It costs but half a crown to get a certificate of naturalisation in this Colony, and we should think it a very good investment for any foreign gentleman whose tastes lead him to visit the ends of the earth on eleemosynary principles.19 The new year began in heat and drought, with the glass standing at well over 100 degrees in the shade, but this did not excuse Candiottis from starting out with a constable for Connor’s river to investigate a suspicious death. Further out on the downs, the burning sun and the hot winds were drying up the waterholes, forcing the Aborigines onto the sheep-pools; there they would encounter shepherds, and sometimes murder them. At the telegraph office one day, Candiottis had an angry exchange with an employee who had misdirected a telegram. The matter came before the police court, where Stephen O’Brien complained that the doctor had called him ‘a flunkey and a servant’, and on O’Brien responding that Candiottis was ‘no gentleman’, had a pewter ink stand thrown at him. A bench of magistrates, noting there had been some provocation, imposed a £2 fine on Candiottis. Buzacott reported the case at length in his newspaper and it was taken up in other publications, adding further to the doctor’s ‘Australasian notoriety’. During the court hearing, Candiottis complained that O’Brien had been ‘put up to it’, which was not out of the question, as party feeling was running high at the time, and the doctor had been prominent in his support for the pastoralist John Scott of Orion Downs, who was seeking election as Clermont’s representative in the legislative assembly. Some of 19 ‘Eleemosynary’: relating to or dependent on charity.

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this feeling was expressed in a speech by one of the candidates, Robert Atkin, the former editor of the Guardian, when he visited Clermont in June: It was urged against me at the nomination, by Dr Candiottis, that I was a man of no substance, and that in three months I would be sold to Macalister. Now with regard to the first charge, even if it were true – which it is not – I cannot believe that it would have any weight with you. I am proud of the fact that I am a working man, and it would be monstrous, in a Colony such as this, the whole population of which is essentially a working population, to maintain the doctrine that the man who honestly and honorably labors for his support with his head or with his hands, must necessarily be unfitted to represent his fellow men in Parliament, and must necessarily forfeit his integrity on the first approach of temptation. But if we look more closely into this matter, it will be seen that men in my position are far more independent than most of the members of that faction which so industriously slandered me. How many of my independent opponent’s supporters dare vote in opposition to a telegram from Sydney? Why, if ordered they would flock to the poll like sheep, to vote as directed. It ill becomes men, nine tenths of whom are merely dummies in the hands of Sydney banks and capitalists, to reproach me with poverty, or to assert my lack of independence. Had I but fawned upon Mr Gordon Sandeman, or made gyrations before the great Mr Palmer, of Beaufort, in all probability they would not have gone touting all over the Colony for a nominee candidate to represent their views and advocate their policy; and Mr Scott would in all probability have remained undisturbed in the seclusion of Orion Downs. 212

Amid much cheering, Atkin declared that he would come forward again, ‘to fight the battle of the Liberal party in this electorate’. Atkin did put himself forward again. He was elected the next year to represent Clermont in the legislative assembly, but resigned soon after.20 Candiottis did not enjoy a good relationship with Dr John Benson, who had replaced him as medical officer at the Clermont hospital, but by the end of 1868 he was on better terms with the hospital, and sought the admission of a severely injured man he was treating. The patient had been in a party working on a new dam for the provincial council some miles out of Clermont. There had been a fight and he had been hit on the head with a pick handle. At the hospital, Candiottis saw the man had little hope and as a last resort tried trepanning his skull, but death soon followed. In other areas, Candiottis continued to disconcert his opponents. A meeting to float the Peak Downs Quartz-crushing Company saw him resign as a provisional director after much argument about expenses. In the new year, the doctor attended yet another meeting of electors to nominate a representative for the legislative assembly. On this occasion Charles Buzacott’s name was put forward and, in speaking to the nomination, Buzacott admitted that his lack of fluency in public speaking and his modest means might be seen as presenting some difficulties, but he ‘had a head on his shoulders’, and five years as a local man to offer. Clermont had tried absentee representatives, he said, ‘all selected from one class, but they had looked out for themselves and their friends and totally neglected the majority of the electors’. Oscar de Satge testily responded that Buzacott ‘had abused the squatters, had called them “princes,” but they worked harder than Mr Buzacott did. … This was a game between Messrs. Atkin and Buzacott – the one retires, the other goes down, and we exchange an editor of ability for an editor without ability. … Clermont would have been all the happier and better if it had never seen him, or his 20 After resigning Clermont Atkin was elected for East Moreton. In 1872, at the age of 30, he died of tuberculosis.

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printing machine’. Candiottis then took up the attack: ‘All Mr Atkin had done for them was to appoint Messrs. Winter, Buzacott, and Christoe to the bench, and reward his other supporters.’ And Dr Benson, who had nominated Buzacott, ‘until lately was making up blue pills in Canada’. Candiottis concluded, ‘Mr Buzacott had told them he had a head, but there were no brains in it; he had no locus standi. When they sent him down, the Assembly would snub him; when he went into the House all the other members would run out.’ But on a show of hands, the nomination of Charles Buzacott was carried. In a parting shot, Buzacott said de Satge ‘had tried to keep people from getting at the waterholes on his run and wanted to monopolise the land’. This must have been the last straw for Oscar de Satge who resolved to stand as a candidate in the election himself. He did so and defeated Charles Buzacott, becoming the new member for Clermont in the legislative assembly. Buzacott took the loss very badly. The day after the election he sent the Queensland Premier a letter making 14 charges against Clermont’s police magistrate, Captain Henry Lambert, who had acted as returning officer. The letter complained of the influence exerted by Dr Candiottis over him, indeed their ‘close intimacy’, and of Lambert’s ‘mode of life and companionships’, and many other things. Buzacott’s allegations were aired in the legislative assembly in August 1869,21 but there were no consequences for Lambert who continued on as police magistrate. It was not Lambert, but Buzacott, who would soon be leaving Clermont. An article by Buzacott in the Telegram about a meeting of the Peak Downs Quartz-crushing and Gold Mining Co. went as far as Sydney, and probably further, due no doubt to its unflattering depiction of Candiottis. The doctor was reported to say, ‘I was the promoter of this company. I took a great interest in it. I am sorry my name was left out of the directors. I spent a great deal of money in telegrams, and so on. The only thanks I got 21 Gilchrist suggests this was the first mention of a Greek immigrant in an Australian legislature, but Eugenios Genatas appears to have had that honour when he was named in a Parliamentary Inquiry into the Native Mounted Police in 1861.

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was to be chucked out.’ Buzacott, in a report of the meeting in his paper, poked fun at Candiottis: Ah, ah, ah! Buzacott, Benson, and Cusack! – the old trio Cusack, Benson, and Buzacott! – ah, ah, ah! You (Benson) are not in Canada now! … (to Mr Benson furiously): I would shoot you in Canada, as I would, in this room – like a-a-like a-bird! … You are a – thing! … Call, the police for me? By golly! The police for me – ah, ah, ah! The Clermont correspondent for the Northern Argus expressed regret that Dr Candiottis had displayed ‘so much indecorous warmth’ at the meeting, but thought his anger was justified as he had been badly treated. The writer then went on to air his views on Buzacott and his newspaper or, as he preferred to describe them, the ‘Peak Downs Pecksniff’22 and his ‘mendacious Telegram’. He wrote that Buzacott: As editor and proprietor of a newspaper, signally fails, since matters real affecting the public good are neglected and forgotten, and the columns filled with the sayings and doings of his ancient enemy, Dr Candiottis, who I think does not deserve such prominence; nor is it fair to his subscribers (now alas! very few) to be dosed with him ad nauseum. For my part, I am thoroughly disgusted with the constant recurrence of petty personal malice, and would be glad to see the journal in abler and more dignified hands. Oscar de Satge met with his constituents at Reimer’s Hotel on a bitterly cold night in the winter of 1869 and gave a two-hour speech. Buzacott 22 Mr Pecksniff – a character in Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens; a hypocrite who pretends to like people who have power or money in order to get an advantage.

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was there and he also spoke. The two men were now fierce opponents and each of them did his best to tear the other down. They met again not long after at Copperfield where a ‘Grand Banquet’ was held for de Satge at the Royal Hotel one Friday evening. The tables were arranged in the form of a ‘T’ and presented various delicacies for the company which perhaps was not as ‘grand’ as hoped, comprising some 22 gentlemen and their ladies. After dinner they were invited to toast ‘Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria’. Further toasts followed, including one to de Satge, who rose and spoke of government spending on dams and roads and town water supplies as would be expected of a member of parliament. He also ventured some remarks on the subject of Separation – the movement for a new colony with its capital at Rockhampton – an object he said, to much cheering and applause, that he favoured. Dr Candiottis proposed a toast to ‘The Pastoral, Commercial, and Mining Interests’, but he cut it short as ‘the ladies were waiting for a dance’. Mr Miller then proposed a toast to ‘The Press’, saying ‘he did not like to see so many personal attacks. No private individual ought to be shown up. The press was a very useful institution’, he said, and then continued with some further remarks that unfortunately did not appear in the Telegram, due to Buzacott deeming them ‘inaudible’. The newspaper responded to Miller’s remarks, ‘denying that attacks on private individuals were permitted in the local journal, and maintaining the right to criticise persons who came forward as public men’. Buzacott was confident that ‘whatever fault they might find with the Telegram, they would all allow that it was free and independent’. A man from Copperfield went before the criminal court at Rockhampton in September charged with feloniously assaulting and carnally knowing a six-year-old girl. The man had been a boarder in the house where the child lived and the offence occurred in a water closet. Not many years before, this was a crime punished by hanging. Candiottis was called to examine the child and later gave evidence at the trial. He told the court he could not swear there had been carnal knowledge of the girl as there was no hymen, and no trace that one ever existed. The 216

judge informed the jury that this left a doubt, and they returned a verdict of guilty, not of the act, but of the attempt. At sentencing, the judge prescribed a punishment intended as a warning to others: the prisoner to be gaoled for two years, and to be once privately whipped – 20 strokes with the ‘cat’ on the bare back. Candiottis was now trying his luck at gold mining on his own account. He had acquired rights to some ground at MacDonald’s Flat and had miners employed there, bringing rock from a gold-bearing reef to the surface for crushing. By November, some 53 tons of stone had been delivered to the crushers and the mine manager had hopes of a good result. When the two batteries were cleaned out, there was a yield of nearly 100 ounces of gold. One of the banks agreed to advance £3 per ounce on the retorted gold, so Candiottis now had a return for his outlay, and good prospects from the further development of the reef. The doctor also maintained his interest in the Peak Downs Quartz-crushing and Gold Mining Company. At a special general meeting, seventeen shareholders argued about the best methods of meeting the company’s liabilities and funding the works needed to restart their crushing machine. Dr Candiottis, now one of the directors, did battle once more with Benson and Cusack, and succeeded in steering through a call on shareholders, while avoiding a no-confidence motion. Things were not going quite so well at Clermont’s hospital, which had fallen into a kind of stupor. The committee, which had engaged in such lively combat with Dr Candiottis a couple of years before, was now barely able to function, and meetings were repeatedly adjourned for lack of attendance. The Telegram asked rhetorically whether ‘the hospital shall remain closed, that all destitute sick shall die in the streets and bush, and that the Government endowment of £300 a year shall be withdrawn’. If its hospital seemed to be in decline, at least the Peak Downs district could look forward to better times after recent rains. The creeks were up and the lagoon had risen enough to submerge the log which had served since Clermont’s beginnings as a footbridge; lately, a proper bridge 217

had been built, and as yet it remained clear of the water. As the new year opened, grass was green and plentiful, stock were improving in condition, and hopes were high. The latter part of January saw good rains and these continued, on and off, into February, maintaining a satisfactory flow in the streams and topping up the lagoon. There was no feeling of apprehension; it was the wet season and the Downs were getting their due. Clermont was situated on Sandy Creek, half a mile below the spot where Wolfang Creek came in, assuring the town of the flow of both streams. This was a boon in normal times and especially in drought. But on the night of Monday 7 February 1870, when both Sandy Creek and Wolfang Creek were flowing well, something extraordinary happened around the Peak Range that produced a deluge high up on Wolfang. Not long after, a wall of water came down Wolfang Creek and overwhelmed Sandy Creek; its channel was wide and 40 feet deep but it could not take this sudden inflow. The torrent swept over the bank and inundated the flat next to the lagoon on which most of Clermont stood. Charles Buzacott noticed it as a roaring sound that woke him close to midnight and made him rise from his bed, and when his feet reached the bedroom floor he found he was knee-deep in water. Throwing on some clothes, he went outside and saw that the whole flat was covered by a fast-flowing flood. He woke his assistant, Peter Robinson, who slept in the adjoining room and the two men tried to make their way to higher ground. But by then the water had risen and the current was stronger, and they could hear fences and buildings crumpling, and the yells and screams of men and women in the dark. Fearful of continuing, they retreated to a nearby ironbark tree and, moments later, when a table was carried by the flood against its trunk, they climbed onto the table, and then into the lower fork of the tree. From this position of doubtful safety, Buzacott surveyed the scene: The rain came down pitilessly, and the wind howled mournfully, but the lightning was so vivid and incessant 218

that the various objects that drifted along with the current, and the various houses in the neighbourhood, were seen with some distinctness. As far as the eye could reach in every direction there was water, flowing rapidly towards the Lagoon, in some places at the rate of eight or nine miles per hour. Underneath ‘our’ tree was a kitchen occupied by a labouring man named Williams, his wife, and child – a little girl two years and a-half old. At ten minutes past twelve our attention was drawn to this dwelling by a crash. Instantly it collapsed. The woman uttered one loud hopeless shriek, and the dark mass passed close by our tree. The man uttered no sound, being probably stunned by the falling building. The child rose to the surface and, as it was carried down the current, uttered two or three piteous cries. That was the last heard of these unfortunate people. The people of Clermont trembled on the roofs of their houses, or clung to cross-beams for dear life, and at about half-past twelve the flood reached its zenith as water up to five feet deep rushed through most of the buildings in the town. The water remained at this level until three in the morning and then slowly began to fall. By daylight the flood had dropped to a level that allowed an appraisal of the damage. The three members of the Williams family, and a man named Hickey, had drowned. Later another corpse would be found hanging in the branches of a tree 12 miles downstream, and added to the toll of the dead. It was the body of ‘an aged woman of ill-fame’, who lived in a humpy on the flat just below Clermont. Most of the kitchens and other outbuildings in the town were gone. William Hose and his wife were left with only a brick fire-place to live in. The widows Callanan and Pugh saw their humpies, and everything in them, swept away. Some quite large buildings had been shifted off their footings and nearly every house and shop was damaged. ‘In Mr Palmer’s large stores, which were raised nearly two feet above the surface, there 219

was eighteen inches of water. In the front store considerable damage was done to the drapery and dry goods; in the back store, a large quantity of salt was washed clean away. Several tons of sugar were destroyed; rice was damaged, casks of vinegar and cases of kerosine were washed away.’ Messrs Winter and Lea suffered as much, if not more. The Chinese storekeeper, Yung Wan, was left with a large quantity of waterlogged goods – tea, rice, currants, raisins and the like. Laval, the barber and cordial maker, lost cash, cheques and bills, together with his stock-in-trade. For Dr Benson, the flood was a disaster. His surgery with its library and medical instruments and medicines had been carried away, and his house was nearly wrecked and valuable items among its contents were gone. His total losses varied with different reports, but totalled around £1,000, and he would lament that he was a ruined man. His friend Cusack had lost his new fence. Even the safe at the A.J.S. Bank had failed to resist the torrent, and ledgers and papers in it were sodden. The Candiottis family lost a corner of their house where the bricks had been undermined. Buzacott estimated his own loss at £300 and the total cost to the town at over £10,000. The losses, the deaths and destruction, were the price to be paid for failing to understand a new country. Clermont had been built on a floodway, with the main course of Sandy Creek on one side, and its billabong on the other, and the town had just met its destiny. Beyond Clermont, at Peak Downs Station and at Capella and at Lillyvale, men, women and children had drowned. Cotherstone lost five draft horses. On Wolfang Station, miles of fencing were gone and thousands of stock destroyed and, for many days after, the waters of Wolfang and Sandy Creeks carried dead sheep into Clermont’s lagoon and the air was heavy with the stench of their rotting carcasses. The flood was something of an epiphany for Charles Buzacott and his ally Dr John Benson. They suddenly realised that their destinies lay elsewhere, and both of them would soon be gone from Clermont. Benson was bound for Brisbane but before departing he addressed a meeting of electors at the courthouse in a bid to enter the legislative assembly. His opponent, Mr Lamb, was not present, leaving the floor to Benson who 220

assured his audience that although the flood had destroyed his property, he would not be leaving for good. Another doctor would be coming to carry on his medical practice. There were some ‘private arrangements’ he needed to make in Brisbane and if these were successful he would be back in Clermont again. He spoke in favour of land reform, immigrants with capital, the extension of the railway and, of course, Separation. If elected, he would do all in his power to advance the Separation movement. In the Assembly, he would sit on the cross benches and ‘remain a northern man’. The show of hands was in Benson’s favour, but a poll was demanded by Oscar de Satge and others. Dr Benson won the poll, held some days later, and was soon on his way south, but his career in the legislative assembly would be too brief for him to keep his promises; he would not reside in Clermont again, or remain, ‘a northern man’. Buzacott prepared for his exit from Clermont by floating the Telegram as a company and selling off the shares, while retaining a few for himself. This provided him with a useful amount of capital for his further ventures which included joining his brother at the Bulletin in Rockhampton, and standing as a candidate there for the legislative assembly. The Telegram was leased to Messrs Graham and Mackay for an initial term of three years. The Clermont correspondent for the opposition paper, the Northern Argus, reported these deft moves, and noted that Clermont’s ‘general stirrer up of strife and dissension’ did not seem any the worse for his night spent in the ironbark tree that had since become known as ‘Buzacott’s perch’. He further noted: ‘A farewell dinner was given to Mr Buzacott. No one came in from Copperfield, and the whole thing would have been a failure but for the presence of a few strangers who were glad of a little change, and yielded to the pressure of those interested in making up the party. The Copperfield brass band were to have been in attendance, but the big drumsticks were mislaid and the brass instruments wanted polishing so they failed to come to the scratch’. Candiottis now found himself elevated to the role of alderman of the Clermont and Copperfield municipal council. His upward trajectory 221

continued at the Peak Downs Quartz Crushing and Gold Mining Company where the doctor was re-elected as a director and then to the office of chairman, replacing Oscar de Satge, who had resigned to devote himself to his duties in the legislative assembly. The Candiottis Reef at MacDonald’s flat was performing passably well, the mine yielding about one ounce of gold to the ton of crushed stone and paying £3 15s. 7d. an ounce. By the winter of 1870, Clermont’s spirits were recovering from the disastrous flood, and the town may have felt the need to mark the moment. An ‘amateur musical and dramatic entertainment’ in aid of the hospital served this purpose. One of the large stores was fitted up for the occasion, the walls lined with grey blankets, and the floor covered with clean quartz tailings. A stage was erected with a drop curtain and scarlet blankets to relieve the grey of the walls, with a dressing and retiring room at one end. This theatre was soon filled by an audience comprising many of the leading residents of the district. The first part of the entertainment consisted of songs and recitations, and calls for encores showed how much they were appreciated. An original comic song by Mr Waddell, featuring humorous references to the leading local men, was especially popular. The newspaper noted: The song described a dream in which Clermont was presented to the sleeper as it will appear ten years hence, Dr Candiottis is to be Governor-General, but he is the only man who is to be benefitted by the flight of time, all the rest being represented as down on their luck, some working as tinkers, others wheeling a costermonger’s barrow, while one, the present manager of the Copper Mines, is to be going round with his hat begging for coppers. The most unkind cut of all, however, was given to a gentleman whilom connected with the practice of the law here, who was represented as swinging on a gallows near the Courthouse. His fate should be a warning to all who come here to make money and then clear out, as that is an almost unpardonable offence. 222

The review continued: It was ten o’clock before the curtain rose on the final scene in ‘Pickwick’ which concluded the entertainment, and was greeted by thunders of applause. No trouble had been spared in getting appropriate costumes, and the effort of the whole was very good. Dr Candiottis looked the essence of a judge, while the barristers and witnesses in the trial were as natural as life. Had the actors been professionals instead of amateurs, no fault could have been found with their rendering of the parts entrusted to them. Dr Taylor, as sergeant ‘Buzfuz’, acted his part to perfection, and it was almost impossible to believe that he was acting at all. Among the witnesses (all of whom sustained their parts well), was Mr Booker as ‘Mr Saunders’, and Mr Appleton as ‘Mr Winkle’ whose acting was a great success. Roars of laughter greeted every humorous incident in the trial, and the audience was unanimous in its verdict that the whole affair was capital. A poignant moment was provided by Candiottis when he sang before that audience a poem or song of his own composition. It was delivered in Greek, but then translated into English, with some adaptation by his stepson Joseph. It was more than three years since the death of his beloved Eugenie, but the words showed how much her loss still weighed on the doctor’s heart. THE DYING CONSUMPTIVE GIRL .

The Autumn winds were sadly sighing, And sweeping withered leaves and dead, While in the hovel fair Elvira dying, In trembling whispers to her mother said : –

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Grieve not mother, though ere coming day Thy fond Elvira shall have passed away, For far beyond the warmth of thy dear love, She’ll be an, angel with the God above. See, mother, see how pain distorts my face! Death will be peace; Oh! mother bear thy cross, God leaves thee still my brother whose embrace May help console thee for his sister’s loss. Grieve not mother, though ere coming day Thy fond Elvira shall have passed away, For far beyond the warmth of thy dear love, She’ll be an, angel with the God above. When midnight came the worthy village cure Who saw, while standing by Elvira’s bed, Her happiness, her patience to endure In pitying accents to the mother said: Grieve not, mother, though ere coming day Thy fond Elvira shall have passed away, Far far beyond the warmth of thy dear love, She’ll be an angel with the God above. Although Copperfield was spared the destruction visited upon Clermont by the great flood, the town struggled in the first six months of 1870. Sodden roads and swollen creeks slowed the carriage of copper ingots to the port. The wet conditions also made it impossible to obtain the 5,000 tons of wood needed every month to feed the furnaces. The ironbark and box woodlands for miles around had been stripped and the men now had to travel out ever greater distances to get timber. As the country dried out, and the market for refined copper improved, work stepped up, and there was an expectation of great things when the promised railway arrived 224

at Clermont. Railway, or not, the two years to come would see the Peak Downs Copper Mining Company at its most prosperous: the copper price would rise to £110 per ton, immense deposits of ore would be opened up, some 200 men with their families would be brought all the way from Cornwall to work the mine and the smelters, and the total amount of dividends paid to the fortunate shareholders would reach 200% of the subscribed capital. In 1872, Candiottis performed an unusual operation, assisted by Dr Taylor, who had been appointed medical officer at the Peak Downs Hospital after the departure of Benson. The patient was a little girl, just five years of age, the daughter of Robert McMaster. She had long suffered from a disease affecting one side of her lower jaw. Candiottis and his colleague had decided that surgery was the only means of saving her life. In the operation, the whole of the left half of the lower jaw, from the centre of the mouth to the joint near the ear, was removed. The newspaper reported that, ‘the operation was in every respect successful’. Later, when Taylor took an absence from Clermont for a period, Candiottis took his place as medical officer at the hospital. He used this opportunity to prepare a dietary scale for the patients, so that the actual consumption per day could be regulated according to the medical officer’s directions. One of the most agreeable sights to be seen in Clermont that summer, according to the Peak Downs Telegram, was a dish of excellent grapes grown in the town. It refuted a popular impression that nothing would grow there, but some were still inclined to doubt whether the earth ‘will bring forth her increase to any but Chinamen’. The newspaper said ‘The grapes we refer to came from a vine planted and reared by Mrs Mackintosh, of Mack’s Hotel, and formed a part of a crop of more than a bushel. Better grapes we never saw, even on the Darling Downs, and as prolific a vine we never saw, except perhaps in Dr Candiottis’ garden. Whilst regretting that the result of the people’s neglect to plant more vines a few years ago is irremediable, we cannot but rejoice that the suitability of our soil and climate for the growth of this most delicious fruit is so conclusively proved.’ 225

1872 also saw the passing of two prominent men of Clermont. One was John Winter, who established the first store and inn on the lagoon before the town came into existence, and who later rose to the office of mayor. Winter had been ‘suffering rather acutely from an overflow of blood to the head’ a few days before. His housekeeper, thinking he was enjoying a comfortable sleep, did not disturb him until late and, when she entered his bedroom, noticed ‘a peculiar hue on the wrist’. Candiottis was sent for, and on examining the body he said Winter had been dead for nearly three hours. John Winter was 47 years of age and unmarried and many of the people of Clermont and Copperfield attended his funeral. Captain Lambert, the police magistrate, who read the service at the graveside, would himself be dead a month later. The newspaper said the captain suffered from ‘Bright’s Disease of the Kidneys’, and the condition had become critical. Candiottis was in attendance at the end but Lambert, who was 42 years of age, could not be saved and was ‘laid side by side with his old friend, John Winter’. One day, on Malvern Downs run, a horse fell on its rider. The unfortunate stockman’s head was pushed deep into the mud, and when he was helped up and his face washed, it was seen to be black with suffocation. His mates thought it was not advisable to move him, and he was left lying on the ground for three hours. At one o’clock the following morning, when there proved to be no help nearer to hand, a rider was sent to Clermont, some 60 miles away, to get Dr Candiottis. The doctor reached the camp at seven o’clock the next morning and treated the patient for concussion of the brain and tried bleeding him, but the young man died hours later. A correspondent for the Australian Town and Country Journal visited Clermont in 1875 and provided his impressions of the place to readers. The population of the town was stated to be 500, a considerable decline since its heyday in the 1860s. The commercial centre was made up of seven public houses, three or four stores, a branch of the Joint Stock Bank, the courthouse, post and telegraph offices and ‘a good school’. The writer informed his readers that although Clermont was a pastoral township, and 226

the business houses relied on the custom of the squatters and their station hands, ‘still, the richness of the quartz reefs has not escaped attention’. As to be expected in any discussion of gold at Peak Downs, the writer was led to overstate the richness of the reefs at ‘two to three ounces of gold per ton’. Local men, he wrote, ‘led by Dr Candiottis, Mr Lea, and one or two other gentlemen, raised a considerable sum of money to develop the auriferous resources of the district. A large crushing machine, with stampers complete was erected’, but through various causes, ‘the chief of which were, incompetency of mining managers, and division of opinion among the directors, the adventure has resulted in loss, and has now been brought to a standstill. The machinery in the town, with its tall brick shaft is a silent, though conspicuous monument of blundering somewhere.’ Clermont’s location beside the lagoon of Sandy Creek was noted with approval in spite of the disastrous flooding it had brought upon the town five years earlier. ‘There are several nice private residences on the western side of the lagoon, prominent amongst which are those of the Police Magistrate, Mr Lea, Dr Taylor, and others. On the opposite side is the prettily embowered residence of Dr Candiottis, whose reputation for hospitality and brusqueness is about equal. The grounds embrace several allotments of ground, fronting three streets, and the doctor’s orchard and flower gardens are far and away the best on the Peak Downs. He has also an interesting geological and anatomical collection.’ The writer might have added that the house built by Spiridion and Emma Candiottis was one of the first of any consequence in Clermont. It was originally a modest structure of the type erected in the early days, but sturdy enough to withstand the flood of 1870. Afterwards, the house was raised higher above the ground and additions were made, including a distinctive tower intended to serve as a refuge in any future floods. At the time of the Journal writer’s visit – 1875 – the office of police magistrate in Clermont was held by Mr G.P.M. Murray, formerly an inspector in the Native Mounted Police, while the member of the legislative assembly for the district was Mr C.J. Graham, editor and part-owner of the Peak Downs Telegram. 227

Nearby Copperfield had reached its zenith in recent years. With a population of 1,800 it eclipsed Clermont in numbers, although not in wealth and influence, as the people were mostly miners and their families. In 1872, there had been a spike in the copper price to £110 a ton, and the directors of the Peak Downs Copper Mining Company, blinded by avarice, declared a six-months’ dividend of £100,000. This looting of the company’s finances marked the beginning of the end for the mine and the town it had created. The visiting Town and Country Journal correspondent, with his approving comments on Copperfield’s business houses, and the deposits reputed to be held in its banks, gave a false impression of solidity to a place that in five years would be nearly deserted. The hospital at Clermont had by now recovered from the slump into which it had fallen and, with the departure of Dr Taylor in 1875, Candiottis had been appointed as medical officer again. In 1876, a Dr Harricks arrived in Clermont and was an applicant for the post when it came up for renewal at the annual meeting of subscribers. This created an atmosphere of excitement reminiscent of former days. There was a large attendance at the meeting, but Candiottis was re-appointed with a majority of 22 votes over the newcomer. The vote suggested that Candiottis’s position at the hospital was secure as did an article in the Rockhampton Bulletin the next year which noted, ‘The doctor has been surgeon to the Peak Downs Hospital for two years, and we see from the Copperfield Miner that the patients have increased greatly during that period, while there has been a very large percentage of cures. During the past quarter, 31 were admitted to the institution, while 23 were cured, and three relieved; there were no deaths.’ Candiottis, of course, kept up his private practice in Clermont and even provided his services in Rockhampton. When he visited the town he would invariably stay at the Leichhardt Hotel and it was usual at such times to see a notice in the advertising pages of the newspaper advising, ‘Dr Candiottis of Clermont purposes remaining in Rockhampton for a few days, and may be consulted at the Leichhardt Hotel’. A press report that did no harm to the doctor’s reputation appeared at 228

this time: ‘About a week ago a blackfellow was bitten by a snake on the ankle at the Aramac. He was promptly treated with Dr Candiottis’ preparation for snake bite, and spirits were administered in large quantities. The gentleman who administered this remedy states that the blackfellow was quite recovered in about four hours, and, as a natural consequence, this antidote of Dr Candiottis’ for snake bite is now largely in demand on the Aramac.’ In 1877, the doctor engaged in some unusual litigation in the case of Candiottis v Shields. For some unfathomable reason, he summoned to court Mrs Shields – his own housekeeper – for stealing three eggs. The case was tried before the police magistrate, and dismissed. Mrs Shields then sued Candiottis for unpaid wages, and won a verdict for £14. The doctor then appealed and won a new trial. Some of his neighbours apparently expressed their opinion of Candiottis’s behaviour by throwing eggs at him. The episode attracted the attention of the press far beyond Clermont. The doctor was in the news again late in 1877 in the case of Mayne v Candiottis, a dispute heard in the court at Clermont. The Brisbane Courier took an interest in the case, reporting that Mayne was a lawyer who presented Candiottis with a bill for legal services of £20 1s. 9d., an amount the doctor considered excessive. The doctor had earlier stitched a wound in Mayne’s hand when he cut himself badly with a piece of glass. Candiottis decided to set his charges at a comparable scale to the lawyer, and claimed £11 6s. for his medical attendance as a set-off against Mayne’s bill. Mayne called Dr Ray as a witness, who told the court that £3 3s. would have been a fair charge for sewing up Mayne’s hand. The court’s decision in part satisfied Candiottis’s claim and prompted Mayne to appeal. In the course of the evidence, Dr Ray mentioned that he had seen the ‘exterior ulnar artery’ tied. Dr Candiottis’s response to this was unexpected. He said there was no such artery in the human body and offered a £50 cheque to the bench to be paid to any person who disproved his assertion. What the justices thought of this can be imagined. The Courier in Brisbane remarked, ‘As we have not heard that the amount has been since claimed by Dr Ray, we conclude in a jocular tone that the, “exterior ulnar”, like the sea serpent or the bunyip, 229

is merely strongly suspected of existing, though somewhat in want of confirmatory evidence’.23 The case was reported widely, the Queenslander quipping that ‘Dr Candiottis has opened quite a new vein in the way of betting.’ Continuing in satirical mode it commented, ‘We were under the impression that our interior was thoroughly well mapped out, and all the allotments carefully measured off and registered. We had not the least idea that it contained any “unsettled country” .’ Later the newspaper reported that Mayne was the ultimate victor in the ‘now famous case of Mayne v Candiottis’, it being held that ‘although the justices had power to decide whether the services were rendered or not, they had no power to reduce or tax an attorney’s charge, that power being vested solely in the Prothonotary of the supreme court.’ The doctor was called on to attend patients at any hour. One night he was asked to see William Critchmond at Leo Damke’s hotel after the man rode in 50 miles from his camp. Critchmond had been stooping over the fire to put on a damper when ‘his revolver fell from his belt and exploded, lodging the bullet about an inch behind his little toe in the side of his foot’. The newspaper report, replete with the doctor’s detailed observations, continued: ‘The ball penetrated through his boot; and taking an upward turn towards the ankle of the foot, met with a bone and glanced down towards the ball of the foot, where it remained’. Candiottis found the foot very much inflamed and remained with the patient the whole night, applying poultices of cold bread and water. In the morning, he put the patient under chloroform and successfully extracted the bullet, his efforts giving Critchmond the prospect of a full recovery. In the winter months, Candiottis often had to deal with burns caused when people fell into fires. Children were especially vulnerable, and in one case a little girl at Copperfield was badly burned on the chest and died in spite of the doctor’s efforts to save her. In another incident at Copperfield an eight-year-old girl was burned after her clothes caught fire, but the 23 The 1870 edition of Gray’s Anatomy makes no reference to an ‘exterior ulnar’ artery.

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treatment in that instance was successful. The case of Martha Smith, who had been admitted to the Clermont hospital after being severely burned at The Springs, was also noted in the Telegram: ‘Dr Candiottis has an ingenious contrivance arranged for lifting the patient, which must be of great benefit to the invalid, who informs us that she had every attendance she could desire, and hopes to be able to walk about again in a couple of weeks or so.’ In 1877, Candiottis was called to Rockhampton to give evidence in the trial of Ah Hing, a Chinese butcher at Sandy Creek, who was indicted for wounding another Chinese man. The victim, Ah Shee, was sworn in as a witness before the court by blowing out a match in the manner of his countrymen. He said he was looking for a lost horse when Ah Hing shot him with a double-barrel shotgun. Ah Shee had gone for medical help to Dr Candiottis, who extracted from various parts of the victim’s body between 12 and 15 pellets that he was able to produce to the court, noting they were number three duck shot. Some of them, the doctor said, had penetrated the true skin of the body and were dangerous. Candiottis was sure the gun must have been fired twice. The jury found Ah Hing guilty of wounding with intent to do bodily harm and he was sentenced to seven years in gaol, the first two years to be served in irons. October of that year saw the opening of the Clermont School of Arts, erected at a cost of £134 on a piece of ground in the town granted by the government. It had a membership of 80, a library comprising 235 novels, 25 works on travel, and 88 miscellaneous titles. Dr Candiottis was appointed a member of the School of Arts committee, one of several community duties he performed at different times, including alderman of the municipal council, steward of the turf club, and membership of the school and cemetery committees. In 1880, the office of justice of the peace would be added to these roles. In August 1878, in need of a change of scene, Spiridion and Emma Candiottis travelled down to Rockhampton and boarded the Lady Bowen for the voyage to Brisbane. After a few days in the capital they continued 231

on to Sydney on the Victoria, arriving there at the end of the month. They remained in Sydney for three weeks and returned to Rockhampton on the Katoomba. Hospital patients at Clermont were increasing in number, and the limits of the place had been reached. Eighty-eight patients were admitted in 1877, increasing to 127 in 1878, with many being turned away. The number of patients reached 162 in 1879, by which time a new and larger hospital building was ready for them. In those days, sitting through an annual meeting of the Peak Downs Hospital required a strong constitution. One such meeting opened at eleven o’clock one morning and ended at two o’clock the next. On that occasion, the Telegram devoted nearly a column and a half to the appointment of the hospital surgeon. There were three applicants and the question was put to a vote, with Dr Candiottis’s victory eliciting cheers from one side and groans from the other. Candiottis would continue to prevail in these contests until 1882, when Dr Ray was appointed. By this time, Copperfield was suffering an inexorable decline. A series of labour strikes had left families destitute and relying on charity from Clermont to survive, and by 1877 there was a slow procession of people, institutions and even buildings, out of the place. Dr Swayne had gone, soon to be followed by the Sisters of St Joseph. Thompson and Cashion had taken down part of their store, and they would soon be followed by the old School of Arts, the Bank of New South Wales, and any houses worth moving; then it would be the turn of Cobb and Co. and eventually the Telegraph Station. A meeting was called to ask the rate payers whether the council should lapse, ‘but no one had the courage to put the momentous question’. Copperfield’s correspondent for the Telegraph in Brisbane did not like a change of a different kind: ‘We have Chinese doctors, publicans, storekeepers, butchers and gardeners here, and we only want lawyers and a Chinese magistrate or two to be right.’ As the copper price sank steadily towards £50 a ton, control of the company with its idle mine and smelters, and a solitary caretaker, passed from Sydney to Clermont. At a meeting of 232

the directors and shareholders in the middle of 1881, Candiottis supported a proposal that the whole enterprise be put on the market at £20,000, and so it was, but no buyer appeared. Early in 1884, the railway reached Clermont and a train whistle was heard in the town for the first time. Vans and drays were soon carrying goods from the railway yards to the town’s business houses, and there was a shed packed with wool bales from Wolfang, ready to be carried down the line. More people were now visiting Clermont and patronising the local hotels. It was noticed, too, that the police court was busier, as the railway had brought to town ‘a class of persons’ who previously would not have made the long journey. The members of the Clermont chess club, of which Dr Candiottis was a prominent member, could now meet their adversaries in Rockhampton instead of communicating their moves by telegraph. Candiottis now came into some disagreement with the Mayor, Mr Leo Damke. There was indignation when the doctor, in his capacity as a justice of the peace, refused to occupy a seat beside Damke on the bench of the local court. The Clermont correspondent for Queensland Figaro reported that a public meeting was called to ventilate the matter and 150 people attended, although Mayor Damke and Dr Candiottis were not among them. Candiottis was accused of insulting the council and ratepayers, and a motion was passed asking the government to strike his name off the roll of justices of the peace. After the meeting, it was reported that many of those present adjourned to Mayor Damke’s pub. Later that year publican Damke sold his establishment and there was a celebration to mark the event. Figaro’s man in Clermont wrote: ‘A farewell dance was indulged in on the day of his handing his pub over. About 60 couples danced the polonaise and then the crowd processionised down the street and Leo exchanged greetings with brothers in the trade.’ It was noted too, that the Mayor ‘had a very cordial interview with his bosom friend Dr Candiottis’. Several months after the public meeting called to censure Candiottis, a government gazette appeared which noted that his name had been omitted from the roll of justices of the peace. 233

In 1885, a special reporter for the Morning Bulletin at Rockhampton came to Clermont and wrote an account of the town. During his visit, he hoped to see the tree – ‘Buzacott’s Perch’ – in which the town’s former newspaper editor and his assistant had spent the night during the great flood of 1870, but alas, ‘the axe had been at work, and nothing but the stump of the old tree now remains’. He was pleased, however, to find, at the bottom of Drummond Street, the residence of Dr Candiottis, ‘surrounded by a nice garden’, and noted that ‘The doctor’s tower is proudly pointed out to the visitor, the eminence being probably built as a retreat in case the waters of Sandy Creek should suddenly rise.’ In the same year another scribe writing under the name ‘Vagabond’ called at Clermont and recorded his impressions for the Argus in distant Melbourne. He found a solid town of verandahed houses lining a broad main street and ‘having a stamp of a prosperous past and a future not by any means played out’. The town’s diverse make-up impressed him, comprising as it did, ‘Gael and Celt’, Greek, ‘Norseman’, German and, of course, ‘John Chinaman’, who, in Clermont, did not ‘take a back seat’, running several stores and the Canton Inn kept by William Sam. Clermont was ‘an international community, testament to its roots as a gold rush town’. The writer met Candiottis and described him as: … an old Victorian and Queensland pioneer, well known and respected throughout the Colony. Such a physique and front as his are rarely seen now; he is Plato in modern costume. Candiottis was called that year to examine the body of an infant, recently born to a woman named Anne Judge who lived in a camp on Sandy Creek. The doctor’s opinion was that the child – a boy – had been born alive and then strangled. At her trial in Rockhampton, Anne Judge had no lawyer to represent her. She pleaded not guilty, but the evidence of Dr Candiottis and the midwife, a police constable and a neighbour, showed that Anne had murdered her baby. Addressing a jury of 12 men, she denied 234

her guilt and said she had been waiting four months for her trial, and all she wanted was justice. Justice Harding made known to the jury the possibility of convicting her on the lesser charge of concealment of birth, but they returned a verdict of murder. They added a recommendation for mercy because they were not satisfied that Anne was sane at the time she killed her child. The judge said the jury’s recommendation would be forwarded to the proper quarter, but the verdict of murder gave him no scope to lighten the sentence. Addressing Anne, he said, ‘you have been found guilty by a jury of your countrymen of the crime of murdering your child. It is a most dreadful crime, a crime contrary to the instincts of our nature, a crime which will be loathed by every woman whether a mother or not. So dreadful is it that human sympathy scarcely goes with you.’ He then sentenced her ‘to be hanged by the neck till you be dead, and may the Lord have mercy upon your soul.’ A month later the government determined that Anne Judge not be executed and instead serve a 10-year gaol term. The trial was widely reported and much discussed, and some time later, when a contributor to the journal Figaro, writing under the name ‘Swagman’, trekked across the downs and came to Sandy Creek, he recalled what had happened there: I was made welcome and informed about the beauties of the Peak Downs. Certainly this is a picturesque canton of the Colony. There was grass, and after leaving Capella two springs ran across the track, the first running water I had seen since leaving Rockhampton. That night I camped with a hearty Yorkshire navvy on Sandy Creek. He was one of the real ‘Adam Bede’ stamp of men, with exact, methodical ways, and after eyeing me curiously, said, ‘You have been in better circumstances, old fellow.’ ‘How do you know?’ said I. ‘Why’, he said, ‘you are the first intelligent man with an acquaintance of history and literature that I have ever met on Sandy Creek.’ ‘Is this Sandy Creek?’ said I. ‘Yes’, he replied. A Foul Murder 235

took place in this camp not long ago and then, in bated breath, we discussed the pitiful tragedy committed by Annie Judge. How she acted as the life-giver and throttler of her innocent offspring. How the women talked about her crime; how the doctor, old Candiottis, proved in elaborate and damning testimony, that the child had lived; and how Mr Justice Harding wept when he sentenced her to death. This and much more we talked, under the shadow of some tall, stout gum trees, while the dry sticks crackled round the hissing billy and the good-hearted man prepared the evening meal. In ‘Swagman’s’ prose there is a nod to Candiottis as a man whose story might live on and, in a small way, things were moving in that direction. In Melbourne, a writer named David G. Falk had taken Candiottis as the model for a fictional character, without much attempt to disguise him. In his series Bush and Camp, he published in The Australasian newspaper in May 1887 a short story entitled ‘Candiotte’: THE PIKE RIVER DIGGINGS WERE IN A STATE OF UPROAR. An event had occurred – unprecedented in the brief annals of the camp – that aroused such a general torrent of indignation as to put the whole place in a ferment. It must needs have been something very serious, and very much out of the common, to excite this public outburst for I fear that, as a rule, the morale of Northern Queensland rushes ten to twenty years ago was not of the highest or most ideal kind. Serious the occurrence was, however, and wholly out of the common. The heroes of the episode were two diggers named Gulgong George and Candiotte, and the part both played in it was neither of a very satisfactory nature nor one that brought about any happy result for the actors. 236

Falk’s story goes on to tell how Gulgong George was injured in a fall down a mine shaft and in need of medical attention: At this juncture a bright idea struck the injured man’s mate. ‘I’ve got it, boys’, he exclaimed. ‘Candiotte is the man for us. He’s a bit of a bush doctor, and he’d do this ’ere job in a brace of shakes. I’m off to fetch him. Keep George going with the brandy till I come back.’ ‘Right you are, Peter’, answered one of the rescuers. ‘I’ll keep the pot a boiling. Here, some of you coves had best go with him, and see as you bring Candiotte back with you.’ Two or three rushed off in the direction of the main camp, and with surprising unanimity made their way towards the one drinking-booth the camp could boast of. There they found the man they were in search of engaged in the gratifying task of getting drunk. He was a beetlebrowed Greek, with the limbs of a giant and a face of the most forbidding cast. On being told of the accident that had taken place, he laughed hoarsely and struck the table with his clenched fist. ‘I knew the blarned fool’d go and knock his head against something’, he exclaimed with drunken boisterousness. ‘Why he was trying to drink against me, till he had to cave in. He might as well have tried to drink against great Bacchus himself. I’m Candiotte the Greek, and can drink the ocean dry. When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war; but when Gulgong George meets Greek he’s up a blooming wattle.’ He would doubtless have continued in this irrelevant strain at some length had not Peter Strong, Gulgong George’s mate, interrupted him by telling him of their object in having 237

sought him. ‘What?’ exclaimed the noble Greek. ‘Sew up his blooming head? Not me, unless I’m paid for it. I’m busy, don’t you see, and I’m not going to put myself out unless I get a couple of ounces for the job. You can’t have medical skill without paying for it. A couple of ounces either in nuggets or dust – I ain’t pertikler which – and the job’s done fair and neat. Is it a wager or not? Say the word, because I’m not going to fool away my time for no one.’ ‘It’s a wager, mate’, answered Peter Strong. ‘You’re the only man in the camp as can do it – so a couple of ounces ain’t out of the way.’ The sequel of the episode was not of so pleasant a nature as to bear minute description. Suffice it to say that the Greek sewed up the injured man’s wound with a degree of skill that justified the confidence placed in him by his fellow-diggers. But, on the promised reward not being forthcoming by either Mr Peter Strong or Gulgong George himself, he took out his clasp-knife, and then and there, in a fit of drunken passion, unripped the stitches he had so lately made, and callously went off and left his patient lying where he had found him. Gulgong George would survive the mistreatment, but his friends did not know this at the time, and they laid his expected death at Candiotte’s door. The immediate outcome of this was a public, open-air meeting, at which the matter was stormily discussed. Feeling ran high against the brutal Greek. … After a great deal of stormy debate, a verdict was eventually agreed upon. It was decided to thrust the Greek out of the camp, to cast him forth, and so purify the moral atmosphere of the diggings.

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But one dissenting voice arose and made itself heard amid the general uproar. It was that of Peter Strong, the injured man’s mate. ‘I don’t mean to say as that Greek feller ain’t an out-and-out cur to do what he done, but I won’t be a party to turning no man out of the camp, considering what it means getting down to the coast by yourself. You know the niggers are as thick as ants all through the ranges, and to send a white man all by himself among them is just to get him speared and made mutton of. It’s downright murder, and nothing else, and I won’t be a party to it for one.’ An uproar ensued, and it was decided that both Candiotte and Peter Strong should be made to leave the camp. The next morning the two men departed, taking with them their rifles, rations, and swags. They headed coastwards intending to reach the track that led from Cooktown to Maytown. Over two hundred and fifty miles of bush lay before them, inhabited by hostile Aborigines. For over a week they continued on their way without meeting with adventure or accident of any kind. They took such precautions as their bushmanship taught them. They made it a rule to camp at night in some sheltered spot, away from water, contenting themselves with filling their waterbags and then moving on for a mile or so before bringing their day’s journey to a close. The fire they were forced to light in order to cook their evening meal was extinguished directly that duty was accomplished; their two horses they hobbled out at night without the customary bells round their necks. But notwithstanding all precautions, on the eighth morning of their journey they were surprised and attacked. That morning Candiotte went to retrieve the horses and returned in a panic. 239

‘Now, then!’ cried the Greek shrilly. ‘Jump on your horse. It’s the only chance left.’ Both men bounded into the saddles and struck the spurs into the sides of their terrified horses. They were almost clear of the timber, in the edge of which they had camped, when a sudden terrified cry from Strong, who was behind, caused Candiotte to turn in the saddle. ‘My horse’s hit!’ shouted Strong. ‘He’s done for.’ Even as he spoke, the animal stumbled, sank on its knees, made an effort to rise again, and then rolled over on its side. The rider, as it fell, disengaged his feet from the stirrups and ran towards his mounted companion. ‘Don’t desert me, Candiotte’, he gasped. ‘For God’s sake don’t leave me to the mercy of them black devils.’ For one moment the Greek hesitated. Safety was before him – he, at all events, mounted as he was, could escape. But his hesitation was only for a second. Bending down in the saddle, he gripped the hand of the unmounted man. ‘Right!’ he cried. ‘A Greek’s a Greek. You stuck up for me over there at the Pike, and, by God! I’ll stick to you now. Quick. Up you get. The old horse’ll bear two for once.’ By main strength he dragged Strong onto the saddle in front of him, and then with a wild yell he drove his spurred heels furiously into the flanks of the over-weighted horse. But the delay was fatal for him. At that moment a second flight of spears was hurled at the flying pair, and pierced in the back by three of the deadly missiles, the unfortunate Greek slipped to the ground with a loud groan. That was the last that was seen of him, for the horse, maddened with terror, bolted through the bush and bore its uninjured rider away from the scene of the tragedy. After undergoing terrible privations during his long 240

solitary ride, Strong struck the Cooktown track and succeeded in reaching that place. But of Candiotte the Greek – ruffian and hero – dastard enough to maltreat an injured man, chivalrous enough to imperil his life for the sake of his mate – nothing more was ever heard. His fate was known only to the bloodthirsty blacks into whose hands he had fallen. David G. Falk’s ‘Candiotte’ owes much to Charles Buzacott’s widely circulated libels of Dr Candiottis published 20 years earlier: Candiotte is mercenary – ‘You can’t have medical skill without paying for it.’ Candiotte is a brute – ‘he took out his clasp-knife, and … unripped the stitches he had so lately made.’ Candiotte is an outcast – ‘It was decided to thrust the Greek out of the camp.’ But the parallels with Buzacott’s narrative end there as David Falk goes on to reveal his protagonist’s heroic spirit. In ‘Candiotte’, Candiottis is redeemed.24 In December 1890 advertisements appeared in Queensland newspapers seeking a medical practitioner for Clermont in place of Dr Candiottis, ‘who is compelled to retire on account of ill-health’. The same month, the doctor and Emma took the train down to Rockhampton and boarded the steamer for Brisbane and then Sydney where they spent the best part of two months. On the return journey, they stayed three weeks in Brisbane at the Gresham Hotel. With Candiottis in poor health, such a journey could only have been undertaken in search of specialist medical assistance. The doctor and Emma were back in Rockhampton early in April and availing themselves of the comforts of the Leichhardt Hotel. It seems that Spiridion never made it back to Clermont as, on 4 June 1891, the Rockhampton Morning Bulletin noted: The many friends of Dr Candiottis of Clermont will learn with much regret of his death yesterday at the Leichhardt 24 Candiotte is republished with apologies for its insensitive references to Aboriginal people.

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hotel, where he had been staying for the last few weeks. Dr Candiottis had been in poor health for some time past, and recently he went to Sydney for a change. The benefit he received, however, was only temporary in its effect, and he passed away peacefully early yesterday morning. Dr Candiottis was by nationality a Greek, his full name being Spiridion Candiottis. He came to the colonies some time in the fifties, and settled in Rockhampton about 1862. After a few years practice here, he removed to Clermont, where he remained ever since. Dr Candiottis was a physician of great reading and experience, and was also a skilful surgeon. He was widely known throughout Central Queensland, and in every district of the Division many stories are current of his skill as a professional man, and his vivacity and bonhomie in social life. The Daily Northern Argus also noted his passing: An old identity passed away yesterday, and will be interred today, in the person of the well-known Dr Candiottis, of Clermont. The deceased gentleman had been suffering for some time past from heart disease, to which he succumbed about one o’clock yesterday at the Leichhardt Hotel where he was staying. Dr Candiottis came out to Australia in the early days, landing in the Colony of Victoria in 1853 and was on the goldfields during many of the first of rushes. He afterwards came to Queensland and settled in Clermont, where he has resided for the past twenty-seven years. He was an identity of that town, knowing all and known by all, and was widely respected not only by residents of Clermont, but over a large portion of Central Queensland.

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The funeral procession started from the Leichhardt Hotel at three o’clock in the afternoon and went directly to the Rockhampton cemetery, where the doctor was laid to rest in the section set aside for the Salvation Army. Emma later placed a stone there declaring it to be the grave of Spiridion Candiottis of Corfu in the Ionian Islands, a Doctor of Medicine, who died on 23 June 1891 at the age of 65 years. Some words from Ecclesiastes were also inscribed: ‘Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.’ A month later, the Rockhampton Benevolent Society thanked Mrs Candiottis for her generous donation of clothing and when probate of her late husband’s will was granted, the press satisfied local curiosity by reporting that he had left an estate worth £3,363 19s. 4d. Joseph Booker, now a family man and earning his living as a storekeeper in Aramac, had renounced his rights as an executor, leaving the role to his mother. Emma decided she would live in Rockhampton and had a new wooden cottage built in Bolsover Street. She would later move to another home known as Hillcrest in Canning Street. Unlike the doctor, she did not figure much in the newspapers, and it was 1896 before the social pages noticed her attending a ‘farewell conversazione’ one evening at the School of Arts, where her ensemble was described as ‘a black dress with white hair stripes, and a grey and white bonnet’. The occasion was the departure from the city of Nathaniel Dawes, the Anglican Bishop of Rockhampton, and his family. In 1901, Emma Candiottis died, and a western Queensland newspaper mentioned her as ‘relict of Dr Candiottis, who built one of the first houses in Clermont when the Peak Downs gold rush broke out in 1862–63. Mrs Candiottis, who lived to the ripe age of nearly 80 years, was mother of Mr J.W. Booker, storekeeper, of Aramac, and was much esteemed.’ Emma’s funeral cortege proceeded from her home in Canning Street to the Rockhampton cemetery, where she was laid to rest with Spiridion. Candiottis’s story had an epilogue some years later when Charles Hardie Buzacott took aim at his ‘ancient enemy’ once more. In Queensland Country Life, in 1907, there appeared a long obituary of Oscar de Satge, 243

penned by Buzacott. He recalled his Clermont days and repeated his old libels against Candiottis, now adding the slur that ‘in fighting, being a Greek, he had not the remotest conception of honour or fair play.’ As editor of the Peak Downs Telegram, Buzacott had masked his bigotry with the language of morality and principle but now, at last, it was in plain sight.

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CHAPTER 10

In Search of the First Greek Hugh Gilchrist, Australia’s ambassador to Greece from 1968 to 1972, posed the question, ‘Who was the first Greek in Australia?’ He then set about answering it in his three-volume history, Australians and Greeks. Gilchrist noted that four ‘indomitable Greeks’ – Michael of Rhodes, Michael Sanchez of Rhodes, Nicholas of Nafplion and Phillip of Rhodes – sailed within 600 kilometres of the unknown and unnamed Australian continent in 1522 as crewmen aboard the Victoria, one of Ferdinand Magellan’s ships and the first vessel to circumnavigate the Earth. However, Gilchrist reserved the honour, such as it was, of the first Greek arrival on this continent, for seven young men convicted of piracy who came to New South Wales on the British transport Norfolk three centuries later, on 27 August 1829. It is hard to believe that no Greek – not even a sailor – set foot in Australia until 41 years after the First Fleet, and not surprising that some time and effort has been expended in searching for an Hellene who came to our shores before the seven pirate-convicts of 1829. Gilchrist speculated about Greeks who may have come earlier, and Alexakis and Janiszewski in 1998 kept the hope alive, noting that while the earliest Greek contact with Australia is unknown, there may be an issue of the ‘Sydney Gazette of 1817 or 1818’, warning of the dangers to Sydney children after dark from, ‘Irish, English and Greek convicts’. They noted that the expressions

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‘riff-raff’ and ‘scum’ replaced ‘convict’ in other iterations of this report. Extensive research failed to confirm the existence of such a report in The Sydney Gazette but these authors felt unable to dismiss the possibility that ‘Greek sailors, more likely attached to British naval or trading vessels … may have sojourned in Australia during the initial decades of British settlement.’ Furthermore, they discerned suggestions in colonial records of a Greek presence earlier than 1829 in the names of ‘George Papas’ and ‘George and Georgina Greece’. Historians Craig Turnbull and Chris Valiotis in 2001 also referred to accounts of Greeks ‘arriving in the late 1810s’, and mentioned the apocryphal report in The Sydney Gazette, but dismissed them as ‘conjecture’ and ‘fable’. It seems to have been generally accepted that apart from the seven pirates, the only other person of Greek origin to arrive in New South Wales as a convict was a man named Joseph Simmons or Simmonds. He is recorded in convict archives as a seaman aged 40, a single man, an illiterate, and in religion a Protestant, who gave his ‘native place’ as Greece. Gilchrist, however, describes him as an Ionian Islander and, ‘in fact a Greek Jew who landed in Sydney from the convict ship Isabella IV in March 1832’, after having been ‘convicted at the Dorsett Assizes and sentenced to transportation for life for stealing a handkerchief.’ Simmons worked on a garden gang and on one occasion absconded, for which he is said to have received a severe flogging. It is surprising that another convict with the decidedly Greek name of Timoleon Vlasto has been overlooked. It is even more surprising when one considers the infamy that Vlasto acquired in 1849 for stealing ancient Greek coins worth a small fortune from the British Museum in London. His crime was widely reported in the British press, as was his trial, which ended with a sentence of transportation for a term of seven years to Van Diemen’s Land, where he arrived near the end of May 1851. Timoleon Vlasto’s conviction and his Greek identity – albeit that of a diaspora Greek – was also mentioned in colonial newspapers. Among the candidates for ‘first Greek’, the claims of George and 246

Georgina Greece, said to have been a father and daughter, seem tenuous, apparently resting on their surname. ‘Greece’ was a name to be found in Britain in the 19th century but there is little reason to think that the families using it considered themselves to be Greeks. There are newspaper reports of a George Greece in Sydney in the 1820s but they do not reveal any Hellenic connection. The case of George Papas at first seems more compelling. He is said to have been a part-Aboriginal man, the child of an Aboriginal mother and a Greek sailor. It is known that he died in Sydney in 1849 at the age of 35, which would put his birth year at 1814, some 15 years before the arrival in Australia of the seven Greek pirates. Papas was buried at Camperdown Cemetery in the Sydney suburb of Newtown soon after the cemetery was consecrated in January 1849 by the Church of England’s Bishop of Sydney. Papas’s date of death is shown in the cemetery’s records as 21 August 1849 and his burial, which must have occurred a day or two later, is numbered 130. In the notes to his entry in the cemetery’s records is the description ‘Aborigine’. In a 1934 publication issued by the trustees, Aboriginal graves in the Camperdown Cemetery were noted as including the grave of ‘Mogo, an Aboriginal who died in 1850’, and which was ‘covered with shells from an Aboriginal midden at Pittwater’; ‘William Perry, an Aboriginal who died in Pitt Street, Sydney, in 1849’; ‘Wandelina. Died 7th June, 1860, aged 18 years’; and, ‘George Papas’, about whom no details were given. Ten years later, in 1944, a sandstone obelisk was erected in the cemetery by the Rangers League of NSW in memory of the Aborigines buried there. Mogo, Perry, Tommy and Wandelina are named on the inscription, and the headstones of Mogo and William Perry lie near the memorial. However, George Papas’s name is notably absent, suggesting that doubts were entertained as to his claim to Aboriginality. Such doubts are not reflected in more recent statements. The known facts about George Papas indicate that he was a Greek sailor who came to Sydney with his ship in 1849 and died about a week later, there being nothing Australian, let alone Aboriginal, about him. 247

The Sydney Morning Herald on Saturday 25 August 1849 carried a report about an inquest held the previous Wednesday ‘on the body of George Papas at Driver’s, the Three Tuns, Elizabeth-street’. The ‘Three Tuns’ was a tavern or public house at the corner of Elizabeth and King Streets, Sydney, where inquests were regularly held, and ‘Driver’ was the proprietor. The newspaper stated that Papas had ‘expired at the Sydney infirmary on the preceding day’, which would have been Tuesday 21 August. The Herald’s report continued: ‘It appeared from the evidence that the deceased was a Greek, about thirty-five years of age, and a seaman belonging to the ship Duke of Roxburgh.’ The Duke was a barque of 498 tons that sailed from Plymouth on 30 April 1849 under Captain Collard carrying 221 immigrants and arrived at Sydney on 13 August 1849. The Herald ’s report stated that during the voyage from England, George Papas was ‘labouring under syphilis and scurvy, but would not take either the medicines or the nourishment prescribed by the surgeon of the vessel; on the 14th instant he was removed from the ship to the infirmary, where he expired. Dr M’Ewan attributed death to inflammatory dropsy of the trachea, accompanied by other and peculiar circumstances, all of which tended to account for the unlooked for death of deceased. Verdict, died by the visitation of God.’ There is a mention of George Papas in the website, ‘Newtown Project, Camperdown Cemetery’, created by the City of Sydney: Other people who may have been of Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander background were also buried at the cemetery. For example, there is a record of George Papas, who was a sailor and died in August 1849 at the Sydney Infirmary, at the age of 35. On his burial certificate he is referred to as a ‘man of colour’, which suggests he was Aboriginal or African, but his last name also suggests Greek ancestry. In a commemorative Camperdown Cemetery Trust publication of 1934, George Pappas [sic] is listed with the Aboriginal graves. 248

In 19th century Sydney, the term ‘man of colour’ would have been applied to a non-European foreigner such as a Lascar sailor, not an Aborigine. An African would have been described as a Negro. It appears that when it was received for burial, the dead body of the Greek sailor George Papas, perhaps of swarthy complexion, darkened by exposure to sun and weather, was taken to be a coloured man and at some point the mistake was compounded by describing him as an Aborigine. A more credible claim to the title of ‘Australia’s first Greek’ can be made for another sailor. On 28 June 1878 The Sydney Morning Herald reported the funeral at Castle Hill near Sydney of a ‘George Manuel or George Emanuel, on whose coffin was inscribed the age of 101 years’. The Herald was cautious in its reference to Manuel’s age, but was more definite in describing him as a sailor who ‘had fought under Nelson at the Nile and other places’. It was reported that ‘For the last twenty years he had resided in the locality where he died, and until recently had retained the possession of his faculties to a very great extent.’ His death notice published in the Herald the previous day stated: ‘June 22 at his residence, Castle Hill, George Emanuel, aged 101 years, after a long and painful illness.’ Another newspaper lionised Emanuel as ‘an old veteran’, who had ‘fought in several battles under our great hero Nelson’, and noted that he was familiarly known as George the Greek. The great age claimed for Emanuel attracted attention and his death was reported in at least five other newspapers. At his death he was said to have lived in the colony for 76 years and, if that is true, George Emanuel was Australia’s first Greek, arriving in 1802, some 27 years before the seven Greek pirates25. Other newspaper reports of George Emanuel confirm his Greek identity. The Sydney Morning Herald, in reporting on a bushfire at Castle Hill in December 1875, described how it had consumed an orchard, ‘burning pear, apple, peach, plum, and orange tree alike’, with the fire 25 The Greek monk Christophoros, who journeyed extensively in the Australian colonies, visited Sydney in October 1867. He later reported that one of the Greeks in Australia had settled there 70 years before: Gilchrist, H. (1992) Australians and Greeks Volume 1: The Early Years p. 269.

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generating such heat that ‘the fruit was actually roasted on the trees’. It was noted that ‘the house and premises of the owner of the property narrowly escaped destruction, the usual occupant, styled Old George the Greek – a man of nearly 90 summers – being at the time in Sydney with a load of fruit’. The location of Emanuel’s orchard was along the present route of the New Line Road in the vicinity of Davids Road and Pyes Creek, and in 1897, nearly two decades after his death, a newspaper recalled that the locality where a small bridge crossed this creek was once known as ‘George the Greek’s ’. Some further published reports add to George the Greek’s story. It was noted in the NSW Police Gazette in 1871 that ‘George Emanuel, farmer, Castle Hills’, had been robbed of £3 10s. A warrant had been issued by the Parramatta Bench for the arrest of the thief, an Englishman named ‘Harry’, whose attire included a ‘red Crimean shirt’ and a ‘white California hat’. Nearly a decade earlier, in February 1862, the Herald reported that: ‘On Saturday morning last a horse, attached to a fruit cart, the property of a man named George Manuel, a farmer of Castle Hill, while left unattended in George street, took fright and ran down the street till he reached Marketstreet, when he came violently in contact with a horse and cart belonging to Samuel Murrell, a carter residing at Redfern, whose horse was struck in his side by one of the shafts of the other cart, and instantly fell dead. Manuel’s horse was but slightly injured.’ In 1876, at the reported age of 99 years, and just two years before his death, George Emanuel married Ann Nash in a Wesleyan Church service, the bride being about 70. He made a will in Ann’s favour the following year and it was witnessed by George Roberts and John Radley, each of whom gave their occupation as ‘labourer’. The will stated that George Emanuel had no children or other relatives in the Colony and that he owned a farm some 40 acres in extent. In signing with his mark he showed that he was illiterate.26 Later, when the marriage ended with Emanuel’s death, a newspaper 26 Ann Emanuel (née Nash) signed a probate affidavit in respect of George Emanuel’s Will with her mark, showing that she too was illiterate.

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wrote of his union with Anne Nash: ‘The lady, we understand, excuses her youthful folly by stating that she married the old gentleman to take care of him, as he had no person to look after him. Practical benevolence of this description is, we believe, somewhat rare, and it is to be regretted that this interesting young couple should so soon have had their brief span of wedded happiness interrupted by the dread destroyer. It may be just as well to mention that the widow’s self-sacrifice has been substantially rewarded, as she has succeeded to the old man’s property.’ It appears that George Emanuel’s widow was the same Ann Nash who had earlier lived with Edward Taylor, a nearby freeholder at Castle Hill who had died in 1874; Ann was granted probate of both Edward Taylor’s and George Emanuel’s Wills. Prior to 1862, George Manuel (or Emanuel) does not seem to figure in the newspapers. However, a man of that name is noted in government records from time to time: from 1859 to 1861 as a freeholder in the Dural area; in 1841 residing at Field of Mars; in February 1839 receiving a land grant of 30 acres at Field of Mars, Parramatta; and in September 1832 transacting the sale of a piece of land at Parramatta to William Parrington for the sum of £7. However, there is no certainty that the George Manuel (or Emanuel) noted in these records is the same person as George the Greek of Castle Hill. It was reported in the press that in his younger days, ‘Old George the Greek’ had been a mariner and it is possible that he was the George Emanuel who is recorded as a crewman on the brig Courier, a ship that first arrived in New South Wales waters in 1823. He might also have served – or attempted to serve – on the brig Belinda, a ship bound for the ‘South Sea fishery’ that listed in its muster roll in May 1824 a George Manuel who was noted as having come to New South Wales ‘in the Brig Courier’. However, he could only have sailed with the Belinda in May by deserting his post on the Courier which was due to depart for England in April, the previous month; if so, he would not have been the first such deserter, as seamen arriving on British ships were much tempted by the better pay offered on colonial vessels. 251

A further record of interest is that of a quarter sessions case heard at Parramatta on 5 November 1832 in which George ‘Manual’ and his associate, John Long, were prosecuted by the colonial attorney general, John Kinchela. The accused men were both described as labourers of Parramatta. They were charged with ‘feloniously’ receiving 50 pounds weight of tobacco to the value of £5 on 31 October 1832, from an unidentified and ‘illdisposed person’, knowing that the tobacco had been ‘feloniously stolen’ by that person from James Kirwan ‘by force of arms’. The witnesses for the prosecution included the injured party, James Kirwan. The court found both of the accused to be guilty. John Long was sentenced to a term of 12 calendar months in irons working on the public works of the colony, while George Manual was sentenced to 12 calendar months at hard labour in Her Majesty’s Gaol at Newcastle. From an entry in the gaol entrance and description book for Newcastle we learn some important facts about George Manual (or perhaps Manuel or Emanuel). He began his term of imprisonment at the Sydney Gaol on 20 November 1832 and from there was taken to Newcastle Gaol where he gave his native place as ‘Corfu’, his occupation as ‘mariner’, and his legal status on arriving in the Colony and on entering gaol as ‘free’. Furthermore, he gave his year of arrival in the Colony as 1823. The ship on which he came was recorded as the ‘Carrier Brig’, but this appears to be a mistaken rendering of ‘Courier Brig’, as the Sydney and Hobart press of the 1820s and 1830s make more than 160 references to a brig named Courier, and none to any ship named Carrier. Furthermore, the Courier first arrived in 1823 at Hobart – at that time part of New South Wales – thereafter sailing regularly between London and Sydney until her later purchase by Sydney merchants Cooper and Levey who fitted the vessel out for whaling in the South Seas. According to the gaol record, the prisoner George Manual gave his religion as ‘Roman Catholic’, which is not usual for a Greek, but is possible, especially in the case of Corfu with its Catholic cathedral. It should also be allowed that before the onset of the gold rushes in 1851, gaolers in New South Wales rarely, if ever, encountered adherents of the Orthodox Church 252

and could be excused for lumping them in with the Catholics; indeed, the only denominations they seemed to recognise were ‘Protestant’ and ‘Catholic’. In later years, the terms ‘Greek Church’ and ‘Greek Catholic’, were sometimes used interchangeably, and in the census documents of some colonies, and later the Commonwealth, ‘Greek Catholic’ was used to the exclusion of other terms in describing followers of the Greek Church. George Manual may well have been same man as the old mariner, ‘George the Greek of Castle Hill’, but even if he was not, he was a native of Corfu who came to Australia before the seven Greek pirates, preceding them by nearly six years.

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Appendix A note on the photograph ‘Native Mounted Police at Rockhampton in the 1860s’ In his 1992 book ‘Australians and Greeks Vol. 1: The Early Years’, p. 102, Hugh Gilchrist reproduced this photograph and stated, ‘The officer second from the right is believed to be the Corfiot, Lieutenant Eugenios Genatas’. Indeed, the officer looks the part in appearance and stature and in his lack of a beard (the wearing of beards among Greeks at the time being reserved to priests and monks). However, there are doubts about this identification. One of them arises from the chevrons on his right sleeve that indicate a sergeant, a rank that Genatas never held. This might be contradicted, however, by the sword attached to his belt. Also, the year ‘1864’ attached to this photograph in recent years, if accurate, would exclude Genatas, as he left the Queensland Native Mounted Police in May 1862. The original photograph (Murray Family Pictorial Material. Mitchell Library NSW. PXE 1635) bears an inscription on the reverse mentioning 1864, but it is by no means clear from the words that the photograph was made that year; a more likely interpretation is that it is the year of the inscription, or dedication, the photograph being made earlier. The original photograph bears the nicknames given to the Aboriginal troopers who appear in it. These names were apparently added later by a person who failed to identify two officers in the group. The internet database ‘Frontier Conflict and the Native Mounted Police in Qld.’ (Burke, H. and Wallis, L. A (2019) ‘Frontier Conflict and the Native Mounted Police in Queensland Database.’ doi: 10.25957/5d9fb541294d5. https://nmp.essolutions.com.au) presents data on some 880 Aboriginal troopers who served in the NMP. A search for the named troopers produced no record (apart from the photograph) that any of them, with the possible exception of ‘Barney’, were serving in the NMP in

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1864. The database did, however, show that ‘Ballantyne’, ‘Carbine’, ‘Hector’ and ‘Patrick (Paddy)’, were serving in the NMP at the same time as Eugenios Genatas. The first known publication of the photograph in question was in the book, ‘The Black Police of Queensland’ by Edward B. Kennedy who joined the NMP about 1864. Kennedy used the photo as a frontispiece to his 1904 book with the caption, ‘Mr G. Murray, seven of his ‘boys’, and two junior officers (taken in the sixties)’. It might have been taken as early as 1861. Lieutenant G.P.M. Murray (standing second from left in the photo) assumed command of the Northern Division of the Native Mounted Police late that year and an opportunity for a photograph arose not long after when the ‘London Photographic Co.’ visited Rockhampton and advertised ‘Portraits’ in the local newspaper (Advertising (1861, December 21). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 1. Retrieved February 14, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51554926). At that time Lt. Genatas was stationed in a tent camp at Theresa Creek on the Peak Downs, a five day ride from Rockhampton.

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news-article207074773 ‘Telemacho debt’ – Police Courts. (1855, Oct. 27). Adelaide Observer (SA.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article158106178 ‘Telemacho now Amelia Breillat’ – Hobart Town. (1855, Nov. 13). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article28637941 ‘Mosquito Flat’ – Janiszewski, L., & Alexakis, E. (2017). ‘The Golden Greeks – from Diggers to Settlers: Greek Migration and Settlement during the Australian Gold Rush Era, 1850s–1890s’. Journal of Modern Greek Studies (Aust. and N.Z.). Sp. Issue, pp. 159–182 ‘Sandy Creek’ – Gilchrist, H. (1992) Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, pp. 94–96 ‘Spiro Corfu uncovered a rich vein’ – Mining Intelligence. (1859, Nov 2). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article87993229 ‘Hellas Reef ’ – Gilchrist, H. (1992) Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, pp. 94–96 ‘Greek flag at Hellas Reef ’ – Mining. (1859, Dec. 1). The Age (Melbourne, Vic), p. 5. Retrieved Jan 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle154880263] ‘Corfu Reef 10 ozs to the ton’ – Mining. (1859, June 23). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle154830187 ‘Corfu Reef richness’ – Mining Intelligence. (1859, July 29). Maryborough and Dunolly Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article253599063 ‘beautiful stone’ – Sandy Creek and New Rush Tarnagulla. (1859, Aug. 12). Maryborough and Dunolly Advertiser (Vic), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article253599577 ‘Corfu Reef 58 ozs ton’ – Dunolly. (1859, Sept. 1). The Colonial Mining Journal (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 12. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article212656062 ‘Cake of amalgamated gold’ – Mining Companies. (1859, Sept. 16). Mount Alexander Mail (Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article199046924 ‘Corfu Reef ’ – The News of the Day. (1859, Sept. 14). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle154829752 ‘No idea of richness’ – (1859, Sept. 15). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article87992168 ‘Letter to the Editor’ – (1859, Dec. 7). Maryborough and Dunolly Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle253603260 ‘Sunk to 48 feet’ – Mining Intelligence. (1859, Nov. 2). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle87993229 ‘Auction of Corfu Reef ’ – Advertising. (1861, Dec. 2). The Argus (Melbourne,

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Vic. : 1848 – 1957), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5706523 ‘Greek sailors ... have a certain character’ – The Gold Fields. (1862, Aug. 7). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article5719762 ‘Spiro Corfu’ – Determined Suicide. (1864, Aug. 10). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle155015860 ‘Greek Town’ – Gilchrist, H. (1992) Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, p. 80–86 ‘Moustaka, a Greek, volunteered to go down’ – (1873, Nov 14). Evening News (Sydney, NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article107170761 ‘Demetrius Moustakas’ – Sketches of a Tour. (1879, Aug. 2). Queanbeyan Age (NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle30676141 ‘Errol Copper Mine’ – Mining News. (1884, July 4). Evening News (Sydney, NSW : 1869 – 1931), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article107261921 ‘Prince of Wales Gold Mine’ – News from Colonial Goldfields. (1884, May 24). Australian Town and Country Journal (Sydney, NSW), p. 24. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article71012445 ‘Moustakas’ – Gilchrist, H. (1992) Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, p. 85 ‘Con the Greek’ – Gulgong. (1871, July 14). Evening News (Sydney, NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article129964207 ‘Peter Constantine’ – Gulgong. (1872, April 19). Empire (Sydney, NSW), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article60860178 ‘George Tornor’ – A Mining Wonder. (1891, May 12). Glen Innes Examiner and General Advertiser (NSW), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article217807551 ‘Gulgong George’ – ‘Bush and Camp’. ‘Candiotte’. (1887, May 28). The Australasian (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 42. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article142440418 ‘John Potter’ – Fatal Mining Accidents. (1861, July 23). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle87376053 ‘Theodore Jeresshy’ – A Sad Accident. (1864, Dec. 5). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle155017821 ‘Nicholas Limberio’ – The Country. (1874, Aug. 15). Leader (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 20. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle198496899 ‘Stephen George’ – Northern Mail News. (1878, Mar. 8). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article52396860 ‘Stephen George’ – News From The North. (1878, Mar. 16). The Queenslander

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(Brisbane, Qld.), p. 8. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article19765218 ‘Greek named Johnson’ – Thornborough. (1879, Mar. 22). The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 359. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article19779730 ‘George Kootoofa’ – Northern Mail News. (1884, Mar. 13). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article52029003 ‘Peter Flerigo’ – A Boat’s Crew Speared by Blacks. (1885, Aug. 6). Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle3445949 ‘Peter Flerigo’ – The Attack by the Blacks. (1885, Aug. 18). Daily Telegraph (Sydney, NSW), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article237253631 ‘Peter Flerigo’ – Cooktown. (1885, Aug. 20). Queensland Times, Ipswich Herald and General Advertiser (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article130396721 ‘Prospector George the Greek’ – Inns and Outs. (1886, Apr. 17). Queensland Figaro (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article84683397 ‘Prospector George the Greek’ – Country Mails. (1886, Apr. 17). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle4494940 ‘George the Greek, Cockermouth Island’ – Country Mails. (1886, Sept. 13). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article4491627 ‘George the Greek, Cockermouth Island’ – (1886, Nov. 1). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle4493680 ‘George the Greek, an old digger’ – Upper Ashburton Tragedies. (1897, May 22). West Australian (Perth), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article3112441 ‘George Demetrius of Port Douglas’ – The Sketcher. (1887, Oct. 29). The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 691. Retrieved Jan.24, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article19928165

Chapter 4: Dagoes 38 39

‘Hot blooded Mediterranean races’ – Water Colours. (1892, Mar. 26). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article13860150 ‘Derived from Diego’ – Dagos. (1895, Aug. 3). Australian Town and Country Journal. (Sydney, NSW), p. 45. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article71218507 ‘Dago derived from St. Iago’ – Offensive. (1928, Sept. 19). The Advertiser (Adelaide, SA.), p. 19. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article29299511 ‘Digo, I say’ – Origin of Dago. (1945, Aug. 18). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.),

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p. 31. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article979344 ‘Dago’ – Letter to the Editor. (1912, July 9). Goulburn Evening Penny Post (NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle102126021 ‘Derivation of Dago’ – (1928, Apr. 13). Macleay Argus (Kempsey, NSW), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article234344434 ‘Nicholas Paulovre’ – Police Court. Port Adelaide. (1887, Aug. 31). Express and Telegraph (Adelaide, SA.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article207697692 ‘Navy man fined 20s’ – Called Him a Dago. (1910, Dec. 12). The Sun (Sydney, NSW), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article229968431 ‘Emanuel Mavromatis’ – Impolite Language (1921, Jan. 28). The Sun (Sydney, NSW), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle221445771 ‘Manifesto’ – Anti-Pauper Alien League. (1893, Jan. 28). Evening News (Sydney, NSW), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article113731841 ‘Monster meeting’ – Anti-pauper Alien League. (1893, Feb. 1). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 8. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article13895708 ‘Fruit monopoly’ – Costly Commodities. (1893, Nov. 10). Evening News (Sydney, NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article112930470 ‘Letter to the Editor’ – Greeks and the Fruit Trade. (1893, Nov. 16). Evening News (Sydney, NSW), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article112935606 ‘Hawkeye’ – Greeks in Melbourne. (1892, Jan. 19). The Herald (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle241554282 ‘Despicable Greeks’ – ‘The D’arceys of Beacon Hall’. (1875, Oct. 16). Tasmanian (Launceston Tas), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article198919148 ‘Thieving Greek’ – ‘Thicker Than Water’. (1883, Mar. 10). Evening Journal (Adelaide, SA.), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article197783097 ‘Peranza a Greek adventurer’ – Theatre Royal. (1888, Nov. 20). The South Australian Advertiser (Adelaide, SA.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article33443983 ‘Ciro, a Greek ruffian’ – Amusements. (1890, Feb. 24). Daily Telegraph (Sydney, NSW), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article235719762 ‘A Greek of the lower classes always lies’ – Chapter VI. (1886, Aug. 7). Adelaide Observer (SA.), p. 46. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article160166882 ‘His branches let him spread about’ – Greek Lullabies. (1893, Sept. 29). Warragul Guardian (Warragul, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article68601712

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‘100,000 filled the stadium’ – The Collapse of Greece. (1897, May 29). Esperance Times (WA.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article253666551 ‘Olympic Games at Athens’ – Athletics. (1896, May 22). Inquirer and Commercial News (Perth, WA.), p. 11. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article72371740 ‘Mr Edwin Flack’ – Athletics. (1898, May 27). Inquirer and Commercial News (Perth, WA.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle66695209 ‘Troubles in Crete’ – The Collapse of Greece. (1897, May 29). Esperance Times (WA.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle253666551 ‘Crete to set Europe ablaze?’ – Melbourne Friday. (1896, July 17). The Age (Melb., Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle190615561 ‘Consul, Mark Maniachis’ – Crete. (1897, Apr. 10). Sydney Mail and NSW Advertiser (NSW), p. 762. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article163789449 ‘A Spartan mother’ – Greek Volunteers. (1897, Apr. 26). Coolgardie Miner (WA.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle216693567 ‘Our fellow Greek colonists’ – A Contingent of Greeks. (1897, May 1). Bowral Free Press (NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article112450300 ‘Britishers offered to serve’ – Sympathy with the Greeks. (1897, May 1). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA.), p. 23. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article87694975 ‘Retreat to Larissa’ – Greek Panic. (1897, June 5). The Australasian (Melbourne), p. 27. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle139742734 ‘Greeks soldiers at Larissa’ – Cowardly Greeks. (1897, April 30). The Telegraph (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article172155338 ‘Folly of the Greeks’ – The Collapse of Greece. (1897, May 29). Esperance Times (WA.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24,2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle253666551 ‘Ignominious defeat’ – The Collapse of Greece. (1897, July 24). Toowoomba Chronicle (Qld.), p. 8. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article217719971 ‘Blame’ – Duke of Sparta. (1897, May 13). Daily Telegraph (Sydney, NSW), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article238402224 ‘Stunning blow’ – Failure of Greece. (1897, Apr. 27). Goldfields Morning Chronicle (Coolgardie, WA.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 23, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article232972883 ‘Restrict influx’ – Sir Henry Parkes. (1894, July 11). Northern Star (Lismore, NSW), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020,from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle72421430

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‘Dictation test’ – The Immigration Restriction Act. (1898, August 16). The Riverine Grazier (Hay, NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 23, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article140690162 ‘Alex. Maniachis: Greek Gypsies’ in Gilchrist, H. (1992) Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, p. 266. ‘Gypsies undesirable immigrants’ – Current Events. (1899, Jan. 20). The Albury Banner and Wodonga Express (NSW), p. 22. Retrieved Jan. 24, from, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article99721847 ‘Gypsies judiciously stopped’ – Current Topics. (1899, Jan. 17). The Australian Star (Sydney, NSW), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article228925736 ‘Gypsies entered NSW’- Federal Affairs. (1902, June 20). The Barrier Miner (Broken Hill, NSW,) p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article44310805

Chapter 5: Nicholas Millar 52 53 55 58 60

‘Miller a witness in a stabbing case’ – Water Police Court. (1859, Sept. 2). Sydney Morning Herald (NSW, p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article28627978 ‘Millar a native of Greece’ – Police Court. (1861, May 15). Bathurst Free Press and Mining Journal. (NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article62400985 ‘Ellida’s master, crew and pasengers’ – Murders by the Blacks. (1861, Sept. 30). The Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article4601303 ‘Nicholas Millar much taken with the Aborigines’ – Murders by Blacks. (1861, Sept. 30). The Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article4601303 ‘Go ashore to gather oysters’ – Murders by Blacks. (1861, Sept. 30). The Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article4601303 ‘Fought with the spirit of his forefathers’ – Murders by Blacks. (1861, Sept. 30). The Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article4601303 ‘Fought like a lion’ – (1861, Oct. 1). The North Australian, Ipswich and General Advertiser (Ipswich, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article77430150 ‘A Greek sailor’ – Weekly Epitome. (1861, Oct. 5). The Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle4601425 ‘Collection for widow and child’ – Rockhampton. (1861, Oct. 3). Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article150316888 QSA ID 846752. 10 Oct. 1861. Letter 61/2787. G.E. Dalrymple to Col. Sec., expressing Dalrymple’s views on the Ellida murders and forwarding report of expedition to Shaw Island to locate bodies of Irving and Millar and punish Aborigines

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QSA ID 348602. 23 Sept. 1861. Letter 61/2405. John Jardine P.M. Rockhampton to Col. Sec., forwarding depositions by Savage, McEwen and Byerley sworn before Jardine at Rock-hampton Sept. 1861; also depositions of Savage and McEwen sworn before Lt. Powell J.P. at Whitsunday Island Aug. 1861 ‘Henry Irving’s sheep and cattle runs’ – Classified Advertising. (1862, Mar. 18). The Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 24, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article4604513

Chapter 6: Timoleon Vlasto ‘large mustachios’ – Evening Mail Monday 2 April 1849, p. 7 ‘Charles Newton’ – London Evening Standard Saturday 31 March 1849, p. 1 ‘Charles Field’ - Lloyd’s Weekly Newspaper Sunday 8 April 1849, p.5 64 ‘Mr Doubleday’ – The Era Sunday 22 April 1849, p.14 65 ‘imperfect English’ – Shipping and Mercantile Gazette Thursday 10 May 1849, p. 1 ‘Vienna’ – Lloyd’s Weekly Newspaper Sunday 8 April 1849, p. 5 66 ‘Greek Gentlemen’ – Freeman’s Journal Saturday 7 April 1849, p. 4 67 ‘to the Museum about a case of theft’ – The Journals of Thomas Babington Macaulay: 18 November 1848–27 July 1850, p. 64, diary note 4 April 1849, cited in Long, Christopher. (2012) ‘Timoleon Pandely Vlasto’. Retrieved 12 June 2020, from http://www.christopherlong.co.uk/gen/petrocochinogen/ fg07/fg07_268.html ‘highly connected’– Westmoreland Gazette and Kendall Advertiser Sat 28 April 1849 ‘monomaniac’ – The Examiner Saturday 12 May 1849, p. 12 68 ‘transported for seven years’ – Morning Chronicle Saturday 12 May 1849, p. 8 69





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Australian newspaper reports on Vlasto: ‘A Greek named Vlasto’ English News. (1849, Sept. 22). Port Phillip Gazette and Settler’s Journal (Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Feb. 10, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article223156088 ‘The Greek Criminal Timoleon Vlasto’ – English Extracts. (1849, Sept. 26). The Courier (Hobart, Tas), p. 4. Retrieved Feb. 10, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article2964875 ‘The Greek Criminal Timoleon Vlasto’ – British Extracts. (1849, Oct. 13). Maitland Mercury and Hunter River General Advertiser (NSW), p. 1. Retrieved Feb. 10, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article699522 ‘Timoleon Vlasto a young Greek of good family’ – English Extracts. (1849, Oct. 16). Port Phillip Gazette and Settler’s Journal (Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Feb. 10, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article223156187 Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 8.0, 24 February 2020), May 1849, trial of TIMONION ULASTO (t184905071119). Timoleon Vlasto (also ‘Timonion Ulasto’) England and Wales Criminal

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Registers, 1791–1892. Digital Panopticon. Retrieved 20 Apr. 2020, from: https://www.digitalpanopticon.org/search?e0.type.t.t=root&e0. given.s.s=Timoleon&e0.surname.s.s=Vlasto&e0._all.s.s=1849 Timoleon Vlasto. Convict Records. British convict transportation registers 1787–1867 database. State Library of Queensland. Retrieved 20 Apr. 2020. from: https://convictrecords.com.au/convicts/vlasto/timoleon/26031 Timoleon Vlasto. Tasmanian Names Index. Libraries Tasmania. Retrieved 20 Feb. 2020, from: https://linctas.ent.sirsidynix.net.au/ client/en_AU/names/search/detailnonmodal/ent:$002f$002fNAME_ INDEXES$002f0$002fNAME_INDEXES:1442486/ one?qu=Timoleon&qu=Vlasto ‘suffering Greeks who have fled to the Continent.’ – Morning Post (U.K.) Tues. 1 Apr. 1823, p. 1 ‘The Greeks. A general appeal to Christians of every country and denomination, in behalf of the suffering Greeks who have fled to the Continent.’ – Morning Post (U.K.) Tues. 1 Apr. 1823, p. 1 Long, Christopher (1999) ‘The Chios Diaspora 1822–1899’. Retrieved 20 Feb., 2020, from :http://www.christopherlong.co.uk/per/chiosdiaspora.html Long, Christopher. (1999) ‘The Kampos Estates on Chios and the Vlasto Properties’ Retrieved 20 Feb., 2020, from http://www.christopherlong.co.uk/ per/chioshouses.html Long, Christopher (1998) ‘Heraldry in Byzantium and the Vlasto Family’. Retrieved 20 Feb., 2020, from http://www.christopherlong.co.uk/per/vlasto. byzantium.html Long, Helen. (1992) Greek Fire: The Massacres of Chios. Foreword by Sir Godfrey Ralli Long, Christopher. (1999) ‘The Massacres of Chios (3) 1823 onwards and Documentation’. Retrieved 20 Feb., 2020, from http://www.christopherlong. co.uk/per/chiosmass3.html Minoglou, Ioanna Pepelasis and Ioannides, Stavros. (2004) ‘MarketEmbedded Clans in Theory and History: Greek Diaspora Trading Companies in the Nineteenth Century’. Business and Economic History OnLine. Retrieved 20 Feb., 2020, from https://thebhc.org/sites/default/files/ MinoglouIoannides_0.pdf More Convicts. (1851, May 31). The Courier (Hobart, Tas.), p. 2. Retrieved October 20, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article2960838 ‘pitiless despotism’ (1851, June 2). The Britannia and Trades’ Advocate (Hobart Town, Tas. : 1846 - 1851), p. 2. Retrieved October 20, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article225557472 ‘wand of torture’ (1851, June 26). Freeman’s Journal (Sydney, NSW), p. 11. Retrieved October 20, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle115765079 ‘Lady Kennaway’ Prison Ship. (1851, June 11). Hobarton Guardian, or, True Friend of Tasmania (Hobart, Tas.), p. 2. Retrieved October 20, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article173059627 Timoleon Vlasto. Conduct Record. Tasmanian Names Index. Libraries Tasmania. CON33-1-102 Image 235. Retrieved 20 Feb., 2020, from https:// stors.tas.gov.au/CON33-1-102$init=CON33-1-102p235

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Timoleon Vlasto. Description List. Tasmanian Names Index. Libraries Tasmania. CON18-1-52 Image 172. Retrieved 20 Feb., 2020, from https:// librariestas.ent.sirsidynix.net.au/client/en_AU/tas/search/detailnonmodal/ ent:$002f$002fARCHIVES_DIGITISED$002f0$002fARCHIVES_DIG_ DIX:CON18-1-52/one Timoleon Vlasto. Indent. Tasmanian Names Index. Libraries Tasmania. CON14-1-42 images 345 – 346. Retrieved 20 Feb., 2020, from https://stors. tas.gov.au/CON14-1-42$init=CON14-1-42 Richard Propsting. (1819–1899) Wikitree. Retrieved Wed. 20 Feb. 2020, from: https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Propsting-51 ‘April 3 – Arrived. Bark Anna Maria, 421 tons from London 24th Dec., steerage, Mr Ridler, Mr Propsting, Misses A.H. and L. Spencer.’ – Shipping Intelligence. (1845, April 5). The Courier (Hobart, Tas.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 19, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article2949026 ‘Richard Propsting, Hair Dresser and Perfumer … has taken the premises (in) Elizabeth-street, which he has opened this morning in the above trade’ – Classified Adv. (1845, June 24). The Courier (Hobart, Tas.), p. 1. Retrieved Feb. 18, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article2948137 ‘Richard Propsting, Hair-dresser & Peruke-maker … per the Windermere, an extensive and well selected assortment of Perfumery, oils, soap, brushes &c’ – Advertising. (1848, Feb. 15). Colonial Times (Hobart, Tas.), p. 1. Retrieved Feb. 18, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article8762297 ‘From Mr Propsting, of Elizabeth-street a fine stuffed specimen of the Australian goshawk (Astur approximeus).’ – Royal Society of Van Diemen’s Land. (1850, Jan. 19). Launceston Examiner (Tas.), p. 5. Retrieved Feb. 19, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article36264969 ‘R. Propsting supported candidacy in election for Legislative Assembly of John Dunn who said of transportation, “I shall resolutely oppose all measures tending to promote its continuance’” – Local Intelligence. (1851, Feb. 7). Colonial Times (Hobart, Tas.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 18, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article8768697 ‘Mr Propsting presented a skin of the Gang Gang Cockatoo (Callocephalon fimbriatum); also a skin of Burhinus grallarius or Southern Stone Plover’ – Royal Society of Van Diemen’s Land. (1851, Apr. 16). Courier (Hobart, Tas.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 19, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article2961046 ‘Mr Propsting presented a stuffed specimen of the Nankin bird, Nycticorax Caledonicus’ – Royal Society of Van Diemen’s Land. (1851, June 14). Courier (Hobart, Tas.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 19, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle2960760 ‘William B. Gould stood charged with stealing a pair of razors, value 2s. 6d., property of Mr Richard Propsting, on the 2nd September last … sentenced to two years’ hard labor.’ – Supreme Court. (1846, Dec. 10). The Britannia and Trades’ Advocate (Hobart, Tas.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 18, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article226532078 Henry Propsting. Middlesex Gaol Delivery 8 July, 1830, 7 years. His details in the Conduct Record Book were found by the Tasmanian Archivist in June 1951 to be ‘mutilated’. One of Henry Propsting’s sons became Premier of Tasmania – Libraries Tasmania. Henry Propsting. Transported Convict. Retrieved 20 Feb., 2020, from https://librariestas.ent.sirsidynix.net.au/

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client/en_AU/names/search/results?qu=NI_NAME%3D%22Propsting,%20 Henry%22 ‘Henry Propsting Born 6th Dec. 1810, Hadley, Middlesex, England, son of Ferdinand von Probstein and Anna Maria Bispham. Convicted of stealing and sentenced to be transported to Van Diemen’s Land for seven years. Arrived on the Argyle in 1831, a labourer, aged 21 years’ – Our Family Genealogy Pages. Henry Propsting. Retrieved 20 Feb., 2020, from http://www.ahvem.net/ getperson.php?personID=I1450&tree=Williams ‘the gold lies in pockets in the blue, slatey clay’ – Victoria. (1851, Oct. 7). Colonial Times (Hobart, Tas.), p. 3. Retrieved Mar. 30, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article8770105 ‘every young man … is for the “diggings”.’ – Local. (1851, Oct. 9). The Tasmanian Colonist (Hobart, Tas.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 10, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article226523005 ‘Nearly one thousand persons have left this Colony during the last few days, for Port Phillip.’ – Local. (1851, Oct. 13). The Tasmanian Colonist (Hobart, Tas.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 10, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle226522968 ‘Three Propsting men sailed from Hobart on 15 October 1851 for Melbourne on the Circassian schooner’ [note: crowded with 109 passengers, it departed three days after Vlasto absconded] – Shipping Intelligence. (1851, Oct. 17). Colonial Times (Hobart, Tas.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 19, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article8770177 ‘Absconding is now becoming very frequent … police are very vigilant, but their numbers are too small’ – (1851, Nov. 8). Cornwall Chronicle (Launceston, Tas.), p. 714. Retrieved Feb., 10, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article65576451 ‘Their clandestine but real emancipation is not regarded with regret by the free inhabitants.’ – The Gold Fields. (1851, Dec. 31). Launceston Examiner (Tas.), p. 4. Retrieved Feb. 10, 2020, from: http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle36262146 ‘Convict Department. Comptroller-General’s Office, 20 Oct., 1851. ABSCONDERS – From the service of Mr Propsting, Elizabeth-street, on the 12th instant. 24,285 Timoleon Vlasto, per Lady Kennaway, tried at C.C. Court, 7th May 1849, 7 years, clerk, 5 feet 6, age 27, complexion dark, hair black, eyes hazel, native place Vienna. Reward £2, or such lesser sum as determined by convicting Magistrate.’ – Hobart Town Gazette. Tues., Oct. 21, 1851 ‘End of transportation to … the “Paradise of Thieves”’ – Local. (1851, Oct. 13). The Tasmanian Colonist (Hobart, Tas.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 10, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article226522968 ‘Married. By special license, at Christ Church, Sydney, by the Reverend W.H. Walsh, T.T. Vlasto, Esq., of Trieste, Austria, to Eliza, second daughter of James Sanders, Esq., of Hobart Town, Van Diemen’s Land’ – Family Notices (1853, Feb. 3). Empire (Sydney, NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article60138457 ‘Vlasto-Sanders’ – Marriage. (1853, Mar. 5). The Courier (Hobart, Tas.), p. 2. Retrieved February 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article2246673 ‘Vlasto-Sanders’ – Marriages. (1853, Mar. 7). The Tasmanian Colonist

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(Hobart, Tas.), p. 2. Retrieved February 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article226526650 ‘Vlasto-Sanders’ – Marriage. (1853, Mar. 8). Launceston Examiner (Tas.), p. 3. Retrieved February 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article36268411 ‘Vlasto-Sanders’ – Married. (1853, Mar. 10). Colonial Times (Hobart, Tas.), p. 2. Retrieved February 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article8773159 Marriages solemnised in the Parish of St Laurence, Sydney, in the County of Cumberland in the year 1853. Entry No. 396: ‘Thomas Timoleon Vlasto of the Parish of St James, Bachelor, and Eliza Sanders of the Parish of South Alexandria, Spinster, were married in this church by licence this twenty ninth day of January in the year 1853 by me, W.H. Walsh. This marriage was solemnised between us, Thomas T. Vlasto, Eliza Sanders. In the presence of Philip D. Vigors of Sydney, Clara Bener of Sydney, Ellen Aaron of Sydney.’ – Marriage record for T.T. Vlasto and E. Sanders. State Library of NSW. Church Registers. Microfilm reel 5013, years 1852–53. 81 ‘Changes in the 11th Regiment of Foot … Philip D. Vigors to be Ensign, by purchase, vice Roe.’ – Local News. (1847, Jan. 30). South Australian Gazette and Colonial Register (Adelaide, S.A.), p.2. Retrieved Feb. 9, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article195934545 ‘Stewards – Colonial-Secretary, Attorney-General, Colonial Treasurer, Speaker, Mr Thacker, Mr Dobie, Captain Jenner, Captain Wynyard, Captain Fitz Roy, Dr Shanks, Dr, Chapman, and Mr Vigors, 11th Regiment’ – Anniversary Ball. (1850, Jan. 21). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 9, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article12915159 ‘Governor General pleased to appoint … Philip Doyne Vigors, Esq., Surveyor of Roads for Moreton Bay Road, Brisbane to the Gap leading to Drayton – Gazette, Feb. 7’ – Domestic Intelligence. (1854, Feb. 11). Freeman’s Journal (Sydney, NSW), p. 9. Retrieved Feb., 9, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article115556219 ‘A Ryanchoea Australis, from Moreton Bay. By Philip Vigors, Esq., H.M. 11th Regiment.’ – Donations to the Australian Museum During May, 1856. (1856, Jun. 11). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 3. Retrieved Feb., 9, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article12975872 ‘Name: Ellen Aaron; Alias: none; Ship: Henry Wellesley; Year: 1837; Record type: Ticket of Leave; District Parramatta; Tried: Bucks Assizes.’ – NSW State Archives and Records. Convict Index, Citation 4/4225; Rell 1005. Retrieved 24 Feb. 2020, from https://www.records.nsw.gov.au/archives/collections-andresearch/guides-and-indexes/node/1616/browse ‘Leonard Grain, and Ellen Aaron, for indecency, each fined £5, with costs [or] in default two months’ gaol’ – Police Court. (1846, Jan. 3). Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Feb., 9, 2020, from: http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article12884489 ‘Taras’ (2014) Michel P. Vlasto (1874–1936). Forum Ancient Coins – Classical Numismatics Discussion. www.forumancientcoins.com. Retrieved 9 February 2020. http://www.forumancientcoins.com/board/index. php?topic=96196.0

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Public Records Office Victoria. Series: Unassisted Inward Passengers Index. Date: 1860. Ship: JEDDO; Arrival Year: 1860; Arrival Month: AUG; Age: A; Gender: M; Origin: -; Master: SOAMES WILLIAM; Origin port code: F; Fiche number: 73; Page of list: 1 Arrived. Aug. 12. Steam ship Jeddo, from Point de Galle, July 23 – Port Phillip. (1860, Aug. 13). Geelong Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb., 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article148885175 ‘Splendid new steamship, Jeddo’ – Summary for Europe (1860, Aug. 25). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article5688583 ‘Days of Bourbon dynasty numbered’ – News of the Day, (1860, Aug. 13). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article154844467 ‘Wonga Wonga, 23rd inst., Genates’ – Shipping Arrivals. From Melbourne. – Aug. 25. (1860, Aug. 27). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 4. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article13044943 ‘Aug. 29. Yarra Yarra for Brisbane. Passengers – Mr E.G. Gentas’ – Departures. (1860, Sept. 3). The Shipping Gazette and Sydney General Trade List (NSW), p. 146. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle161171885 ‘Yarra Yarra from Sydney the 29th ultimo. E.G. Genata’ – Shipping Intelligence. Arrivals. Sept. 2nd. (1860, Sept. 4). Moreton Bay Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article3725400 83 ‘Noble family at Corfu … attachment to the British Protectorate’ – LanePoole, S. (ed.) (1889 Thirty Years of Colonial Government: A selection from the despatches and letters of the Right Hon. Sir George Ferguson Bowen, Vol. 1, p. 228. ‘Government to introduce system of cadets’ – Local Intel. (1860, Oct. 13). Moreton Bay Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article3716853 84 Morisset Commandant NMP notes Government’s introduction of a system of Cadetships and recommends appointment of Genatas – QSA ID 846737. 8 Oct. 1860. Letter 60/1841B. Morisset, Commandant NMP, to Colonial Secretary Appointment of Genatas as Cadet in NMP with permission to draw pay and allowances three months in advance – QSA ID 16936. 8 Oct. 1860. Executive Council Minute ‘letter to Editor from ‘Mentor’’ – Appointments. (1860, Jan. 12). Moreton Bay Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article3721631 ‘Mr Matoeieff is entirely unknown to the Governor’ – letter to editor (1860, Jan. 14). Moreton Bay Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article3720299] The first regular staff of police to be stationed at Rockhampton was set up on Sept. 1 [1860]. The Native police station was on Athelstane Range

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and comprised Lt. J. Murray, chief; – Darley, adjutant; W.D.T. Powell, Lt.; and Genetas, cadet’. – Our History (1948, Jan. 2). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton), p. 5. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article56806042 Gilchrist dismisses suggestion that Genatas was related to Lady Bowen – Gilchrist, H. (1992) Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, pp. 64 and 101. Genatas family history – Gennata Roots. Retrieved 3 February 2020, from: http://gennataroots.blogspot.com/2011/09/gennatas-family-history.html Pantazopoulos, N.I. (1949) Ioannis Gianatas and the Organization of Justice of Kapodistriou, pp. 297–318. Lawyer and politician Ioannis Gennatas blamed the failure of the Kapodistrian cause on Britain – Petropoulos, J.A. (2015) Politics and Statecraft in the Kingdom of Greece, 1833–1843 Eugenios I. Gianatas, authored a 402-page ‘Handbook of Agricultural Practice’, published in 1860 by ‘The Ionian’. ‘Governor visits Rockhampton’ – Queensland. (1860, Dec. 11). Launceston Examiner (Tas.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article39003313 ‘Fanny Briggs’ – Rockhampton. (1860, Dec. 1). The Moreton Bay Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article3725452 Dreadful Murder of Young Woman at Rockhampton. (1860, Dec. 4). The North Australian, Ipswich and General Advertiser (Ipswich, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article77433872 Dreadful Outrage and Murder at Rockhampton. (1860, Dec. 12). Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser (Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article150313811 ‘Gulliver, Tobby and Alma’ – Rockhampton. (1860, Dec. 15). The Moreton Bay Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article3726412 The First Decade. By ‘Fitzroy’ – Rockhampton. (1902, June 21). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 6. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article52763637] Murder of Fanny Briggs. (1924, Aug. 11). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 14. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle54283074] ‘Letter to the editor by “Abel’’ – Native Police. (1861, Jan. 23). Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Mar. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article150313492 ‘Letters to editor from NMP Commandant Morisset and Lts. J. Murray and F.T. Powell answering criticisms of the NMP arising from the case of Fanny Briggs and the death of Gulliver’ – The Late Murder at Rockhampton. (1861, Jan. 24). The Moreton Bay Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article3717036 ‘Phillip Selheim’ – letter to editor, The Native Police. (1861, Feb. 16). The Moreton Bay Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Mar. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article3726282

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‘H.H.H. Port Curtis’ – letter to editor. (1861, May 30). The Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Mar. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle4599177 ‘Death of Alma’ – Queensland. (1861, Mar. 4). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 5. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle13053593 Morisset Commandant Native Mounted Police to Col. Secretary recommending promotion of Cadet Genatas to 2nd Lieutenant. – QSA ID 846744. 14 Mar. 1861. Letter 61/801. Exec. Council minute re promotion of Genatas – QSA ID 16937. 9 Apr. 1861. Approves recomm. of Morisset, Commandant NMP for promotion of Cadet Genatas to Second Lieutenant in place of Lieutenant Darley deceased, appointment backdated to 1 Feb., but without allowances. Genatas’ cadetship to be left vacant. Letter re promotion of Cadet Genatas to Second Lieutenant to fill vacancy occasioned by the death of Darley – QSA ID 861248, 19 Apr. 1861. Letter 61/465. A.W. Manning Colonial Secretary’s Office to Commandant Native Mounted Police Rockhampton. ‘Morisset’s answers to questions as to the efficiency of officers Genatas, J. Murray and Powell – Select Committee of the Legislative Assembly, Queensland, Report on the Native Police Force, 17 Jul. 1861, pp. 145 and 146. ‘Letter to the editor – fantastical mission’ – Governor Bowen and the Native Police. (1861, Sept. 5). Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article150316406 ‘Henry Babbit’s evidence on the death of Gulliver’ – Native Police Report (1861, Sept. 9). The Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article4600915 ‘Letter to the editor responding to evidence given to the Select Committee Inquiry … no proof whatever of my ‘general unfitness for my duties’’ – Lieutenant J. Murray of the NMP. (1861, Sept. 17). The Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle4601063 Removal of Head Quarters of the NMP from Rockhampton to site outside town, ‘where the troopers will have fewer temptations to intoxication through the ready access to public houses’ – QSA ID 861248, 21 Oct. 1861. Letter 61/1301. Col. Secretary’s office to Commandant NMP Rockhampton. QSA ID 16938, 30 September 1861. Executive Council Minute ‘G’. Confirms that 2nd Lieut. Genatas may not claim for allowances abolished by earlier decision of the Government. QSA ID 861248, 23 October 1861. Letter 61/1299. A.W. Manning Colonial Secretary’s Office to Commandant Native Mounted Police Rockhampton refusing application by Second Lieutenant Genatas for the reinstatement of his allowances. Copy of a statement given at Rainworth Station by Edward Kenny, a shepherd employed by Wills, re Cullin-la-ringo massacre – QSA ID 846753, 18 Oct. 1861

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Letter from Rockhampton Police Magistrate Jardine to Cadet Johnson Native Mounted Police instructing him to proceed to Lieutenant Genatas’ camp at Peak Downs and place himself under the Lieutenant’s command – QSA ID 846753, 23 Oct. 1861. Copy letter from Police Magistrate Rockhampton Jardine to Lieutenant Genatas advising of massacre at Cullin-la ringo and instructing him to proceed there directly with his troopers and Cadet Johnson and cooperate with Mr P.J. McDonald’s private group – QSA ID 846753, 23 Oct. 1861 Resolutions of a public meeting calling for more native police to be stationed in the Leichhhardt District and for protection of outlying districts – Wood, Dr Robertson, Mansfield, Bird etc – QSA ID 846753, 4 Nov. 1861. Mayoral minute Rockhampton Mayor of Rockhampton to Colonial Secretary forwarding resolutions of ‘one of the most numerous and influential meetings ever held in this place’, and calling for more native police in Leichhardt District. – QSA ID 846753, 5 Nov. 1861. Letter 61/2813 John Jardine Police Magistrate Rockhampton to Colonial Secretary advising that dead at Cullin-la-ringo numbered 19, not 10, and the attack, ‘carefully planned’, giving victims no opportunity for defence; also, that Second Lieutenant Cave Native Mounted Police took 10 troopers in pursuit of the perpetrators 24 hours later. – QSA ID 846753, 4th Nov. 1861. Letter 61/2812 Letter David Cameron of Planet Downs to Colonial Secretary reporting massacre at Cullin-la-ringo and requesting augmentation of police force to ‘secure steady progress of occupation to westward’ – QSA ID 846753, 19 Oct. 1861. 61/2814. ‘Wills Massacre’ – Rockhampton in the Early Days. (1902, June 21). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.) p. 6. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article52763637 Letter from Eight residents of the Leichhardt District to Colonial Secretary calling for ‘immediate increase to the number of the native police in their neighbourhood.’ – QSA ID 846753, 23 Oct. 1861. Letter 61/278. T.W. Wills to Colonial Secretary requesting that a police (native) force be quartered at Cullin-la-ringo – QSA ID 846753, 26 Oct. 1861. Letter 61/2777 Colonial Secretary Robert Herbert circumvented chain of command and wrote personally to NMP officers ordering them to attend at Cullin-laringo and ‘efficiently patrol’ the district – Richards, J. (2005) ‘A question of Necessity: the Native Police In Queensland’ p. 115. PhD thesis Griffith University. ‘Me no kill whitefellow’ – Nogoa Murders. (1861, Dec. 12). Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Mar. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article150312999 Pursuit of Aborigines believed responsible for massacre at Cullin-la-ringo, and troopers attack on them, ‘on top of a high hill the front of which was almost perpendicular, so that their loss was heavy’ – QSA ID 846753, 9 Nov. 1861. Copy of report from Second Lieutenant Cave NMP Albinia Downs, to Bligh Commandant ‘Police ... guilty of murder’ – 1861, Dec. 11. The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 5. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle13055146

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Gordon Reid, citing, ‘Bowen to Newcastle, December 1861, Outward Despatch No. 74, QSA GOV/23’, writes: ‘In his despatch to London on the massacre, Governor Bowen said about 100 ‘fighting men’ took part … ‘an uncontrolled desire for revenge took possession of each heart’. Thirty Aborigines were said to have been killed by a party of 11 whites. Then SubLt. Cave … pursued the Aborigines for four days [who] retreated to a hill, the front of which was almost perpendicular. Some fell from the top in their attempts to escape the police.’ – Reid, Gordon (1981) ‘From Hornet Bank to Cullin-La-Ringo.’ Royal Historical Society of Queensland, 28 May. Retrieved 4 February, 2020, from https://core.ac.uk/download/pdf/15091050.pdf Bligh’s report to Colonial Secretary on NMP operations pursuant to Cullinla-ringo – QSA ID 846753, 2 Dec. 1861. Letter 61/3038. Bligh reports on disposition of his officers and troopers in the region of the Wills Massacre, recruiting of Aboriginal troopers from the Ballonne district, and efforts of Second Lieutenant Cave to punish Aborigines responsible for the Wills massacre Letter Robert Herbert Colonial Secretary to John Jardine Police Magistrate Rockhampton approving Jardine’s actions in response to the Cullin-la-ringo massacre – QSA ID 861248, 12 Nov. 1861 Letter from P.F. McDonald after his return from the Nogoa – ‘I did not meet Lieut. Genatas, but I saw tracks about twenty-six miles south of Cullin-laringo, which I think must have been his.’ – The Nogoa Murders. (1861, Dec. 12). Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article150312999 ‘Cruelty to the Blacks – The Murder of Mr Wills and his People.’ Letter to the editor from Charles Dutton of Bauhinia Downs. (1862, Feb. 3). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 8. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article13224100 Chambers ‘hunting the gins of the Blacks with a Blackfellow that he keeps in his place for this purpose’, and shooting of one Aboriginal man and stabbing of another – QSA ID 846760, 5th Mar. 1862. Copy report from Second Lieutenant Eugin G. Genatas Theresa Creek NMP Camp to Lieutenant Murray commanding 1st Division NMP, Rockhampton with an account of his visit to the station of the squatter Chambers on the Peak Downs De Satge, Oscar (1901) Pages from the Journal of a Queensland Squatter. London. Hurst and Blackett Limited, pp. 165–6 ‘22. Now, Mr Bligh, there have been certain charges brought against the native police force, in reference to an occurrence at Maryborough. I observe in some of the evidence that a charge has been made against you for shooting some blacks on the 2nd February, 1860.’ – Native Police Report. ‘Shooting of an Aborigine in Maryborough by John O’Connell Bligh.’ (1861, Aug. 22). The Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article4600628 Bligh Commandant NMP Rockhampton to Colonial Secretary reporting on his 76 days, 1177 miles, tour of inspection when he visited Second Lieutenant’s Genatas camp at Peak Downs and found matters not to his liking. Also his dissatisfaction at the desertion of seven of Genatas’ Aboriginal troopers followed by Genatas tendering a letter of resignation – QSA ID 846762, 26 May 1862. Letter 61/2123

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105 Letter Second Lieutenant Genatas to Captain John O’C. Bligh, Commandant of the NMP, Rockhampton, tendering his resignation – QSA ID 846760, 18 May 1862. ‘Six new recruits from the Logan River district deserted within a week of their arrival by steamer at Rockhampton, and were not recaptured despite a pursuit by Lieutenant Genatas.’ – Richards, Jonathan (2008 ) The Secret War: A True History of Queensland’s Native Police, University of Queensland Press, p. 163 ‘[Genatas] felt himself unfitted for so harassing a life, and co-inciding with that opinion, I have forwarded [his letter]’ – QSA ID 846760, 31 May 1862. Letter 62/1518. Bligh Commandant NMP Headquarters Rockhampton to the Colonial Secretary forwarding letter of resignation from Second Lieutenant Genatas and recommending it be accepted. Bligh forwarded to the Colonial Secretary, Genatas’ report, ‘animadverting on the conduct of Mr Chambers squatter on Peak Downs, towards the Aborigines.’ – Bligh Commandant NMP Rockhampton to Colonial Secretary, QSA ID 846760, 2 June 1862. Letter 62/1517 106 ‘H.E. the Governor has been pleased to accept the resignation of Mr Genatas, as Second Lieutenant in the Native Mounted Police.’ – A.W. Manning Col. Secretary’s Office to Bligh, Commandant NMP Rockhampton. QSA ID 861249, 20 June 1862. Letter 62/506 ‘The charges against Mr Chambers are incapable of legal proof, and it would probably be worse than useless to demand his explanation’ – Letter 62/523. A.W. Manning Colonial Secretary’s Office to Bligh, Commandant NMP Rockhampton, responding to the report from former Sedcond Lieutenant Genatas alleging crimes against the Aborigines by the squatter Chambers of Peak Downs. QSA ID 861249, 27 June 1862. His Excellency Sir George Bowen at Rockhampton. (1862, Oct. 28). North Australian and Queensland General Advertiser (Ipswich, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article77289758 108 ‘Arrivals February 3, – Clarence, from Rockhampton via Maryborough. Passengers (from Rockhampton) J.O’C. Bligh, R.B. Morriset, E.J. Genetas’ – Shipping Intelligence. (1863, Feb. 4). The Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article3161298 ‘Arrivals February 18, – Yarra Yarra from Brisbane 10th inst. Passengers R.R. Morisset, J.O.C. Bligh, E.J. Genatas’ – The Shipping Gazette (1863, Feb. 21). Sydney Mail (NSW), p. 9. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article166657500 Resignation of Genatas, Eugene, Third Class Detective on 31 Dec. 1863 – NSW Police Gazette, No. 1., 6 Jan., 1864 p. 7 109 ‘Lessons and Translations’ – Advertising (1863, Dec. 31). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 8. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle13091583 ‘A Card’ – Advertising (1864, Feb. 1). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article13093411 ‘Australian Ladies’ College’ – Advertising (1864, Jan. 14). Empire (Sydney, NSW), p. 1. Retrieved Feb. 4, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle60583978 ‘A Taste for Blood’, and, ‘The Most Violent Officers’ – Richards, Jonathan

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(2008) The Secret War: A True History of Queensland’s Native Police, University Queensland Press, pp. 101–3

Chapter 8: Andreas Lagogiannis 112 ‘Rare Indian goods’ – Advertising (1854, Nov. 21). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle154851603 ‘Rare Indian goods’ – Advertising (1854, Dec. 1). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 8. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle154848967 ‘Great sacrifice’ – Advertising (1854, Dec. 14). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article4801761 Public Records Office Victoria. Series: Unassisted Passenger Lists. Name: Lagogiannis. Ship: Teak. Age 35. Gender: M. Origin: For. Master: Gibson. Origin port code: F. Fiche number: 40. Page of list: 1. Date: 1855 ‘Arrived. Nov. 1. Teak, brig, 190 tons. G. Gibson, from Calcutta 6th June, 113 via Mauritius 15th Sept.’ – Shipping Intelligence. (1855, Nov. 9). Mount Alexander Mail (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article202631323 114 ‘Lately returned from Calcutta’ – Advertising (1855, Dec. 22). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article4826393 ‘Pretty and rare things’ – Advertising (1856, Mar. 8). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle4832660 ‘Grateful acknowledgement to ladies of Melbourne’ – Advertising (1856, Mar. 8). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article4832660 Naturalisation certificate for Andreas Lagogiannis. Farmer. Melbourne. Age: 35. Date: 28 Jan. 1856. Native place: Patras, Morea. Number of certificate: 98. Ancestry.com. Victoria, Australia, Index to Naturalisation Certificates, 1851–1928 (database on-line) Naturalisation certificate for Athanas Lagogiannis. Farmer. Western Port. Age 35 [?]. Date: 17. 10. 56 Native Place: Patras, Greece. Number of Certificate: 99. Ancestry.com. Victoria, Australia, Index to Naturalisation Certificates, 1851–1928 (database on-line) ‘A boy for the bush to tail cattle’ – Advertising. (1856, Feb. 9). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article4830302 ‘Pug and make bricks’ – Advertising. (1856, Feb. 22). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle4831398 Lagogiannis, Andrea in Australian electoral roll 1856. Evelyn and 115 Mornington. Importer. Freehold. 136 [156?] acres at Cranburn. Australian Electoral Commission. Ancestry.com. Australia, Electoral Rolls, 1903–1980 (database on-line) Lagogiannis, Andrew in Australian electoral roll 1856. St James’s, Melbourne.

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59 William Street, importer. Householder. Occupied by himself. Ancestry. com. Australia, Electoral Rolls, 1903–1980 (database on-line) ‘Kevin v Lagogiannis’ – County Court. £10 Jursidiction. (1855, Mar. 14). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article4805588 ‘Farm to let or sell’ – Advertising. (1857, Mar. 11). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 8. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle7145967 ‘All claims against Musgrave and Lagogiannis’ – Advertising. (1856, June 27). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article7132156 116 ‘In the matter of Musgrave and Lagogiannis’ – Law Report. (1856, Dec. 8). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article7141334 ‘Lagogiannis v Grundy and anor’ – Law Notices. (1857, Oct. 29). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article7141198 ‘Lagogiannis v Grundy and Cook’ – The Law Courts. (1857, Oct. 30). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article154834493 ‘Lagogiannis v Grundy’ – Law Report. (1857, Oct. 30). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle7141254 Public Record Office Victoria. Unnassisted Passenger Lists. Name: Perkins, Isabella, Mrs Ship: Minnehaha. 1857. MAR. Age: 35. Gender: F. Origin: BS. Master: Beauchamp J J. Origin port code: F. Fiche number: 48. Page of list: 1. 117 ‘Deaths … infant daughter’ – Family Notices (1858, Mar. 13). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article7147988 ‘Deaths … Isabella beloved wife’ – Family Notices (1858, Apr. 1). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article7292125 ‘luggage’ – Advertising (1858, July 26). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 8. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article7298183 ‘Villier’ – Police. (1859, Sept. 29). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5689045 ‘Webb’ – Law Notices. (1859, Oct. 10). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5689668 ‘Chuck’ – Law Notices. (1859, Nov. 8). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5691334 ‘O’Brien’ – Police. (1859, Dec. 19). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5693845 ‘Forester’s Arms’ – City of Melbourne Quarterly Licensing Session. (1861, Dec. 4). The Argus (Melb., Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article5706590 ‘Forester’s Arms’ – Quarterly Licensing Meeting. (1861, Dec. 4). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.

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news-article154847807 ‘Thomas Politis’ – Gilchrist, H. (1992) Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, pp. 267–8 ‘William Lloyd’ – The News of the Day. (1862, Nov. 4). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle154968660 ‘Marriages. Lagogiannis – Kretzschmann.’ – Family Notices (1862, Dec. 1). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article6481534 ‘Licence Happy Home Hotel’ – The News of the Day. (1862, Dec. 10). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article154968291 ‘Konstantine’ – Advertising (1863, Oct. 10). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5737081 ‘Vincenzo’ – Advertising (1864, Feb. 3). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 1. Retrieved Feb. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5743563 ‘Dr Thomas … disgusting profligacy’ – Suburban Police. (1863, May 1). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article154963255 ‘Dr Thomas’ – Police Courts. (1863, May 1). The Herald (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article244292884 ‘Medical man ... sued an Italian named Lagogianis’ – Fri., May 1, 1863. (1863, May 1). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article6485430 ‘Summons from Dr Thomas’ – Accidents and Offences. (1863, May 9). Farmer’s Journal and Gardener’s Chronicle (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article179381396 ‘Lagogiannis … obtained costs’ – Suburban Police. (1863, May 12). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 27, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article154965900 ‘breaking a lamp’ – Wednesday July 1, 1863. (1863, July 1). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article6486963 ‘Stolen parrot’ – Victoria Police Gazette, Sept. 22, 1864, p. 367. Ancestry.com. Vic., Aust., Police Gazettes, (database on-line) ‘Stolen anti-macassar, silk handkerchief ’ – Victoria Police Gazette, Oct. 13, 1864, p. 388. Ancestry.com. Vict., Australia, Police Gazettes, 1855, 1864–1924 (database on-line) ‘Achilles Crusos’ – Suburban Police, (1864, Sept. 23). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle155017678 ‘Spiro Williams (Kyriakatis)’ – Police Courts. (1864, Oct. 28). The Herald (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article245507215 ‘Publican’s licence Bay Street Sandridge’ – Advertising. (1865, Feb. 21). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Feb. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article5738258

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‘Application to transfer Happy Home Hotel licence’ – Advertising. (1865, Feb. 21). The Argus (Melb., Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Feb. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article5738258 ‘Transfer of Happy Home Hotel licence granted’ – Police. (1865, Mar. 4). Leader (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article197035148 ‘Chusan Hotel’ – Grainger, P. (2007) ‘Chartered Scoundrels: a brief history of Port Melbourne Hotels’. Port Melbourne Historical and Preservation Society, pp. 16, 44, 45 122 ‘Lagogiannis summoned by Michael Allison’ – Police. (1865, Mar. 4). Leader (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article197035148 ‘notice to contractor’ – Advertising (1865, Mar. 30). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle5743511 ‘A daughter, stillborn’ – Family Notices (1865, Apr. 11). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle155027475 ‘Selling spirits on Sunday morning’ – News of the Day. (1865, June 30). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article155028091 123 ‘Abusive language to Constable Keys’ – News of the Day. (1865, August 22). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article155039898 ‘Stolen album’ – Victoria Police Gazette, Oct. 19, 1865, p.383. Ancestry.com. Victoria, Australia, Police Gazettes, 1855, 1864–1924 (database on-line). ‘Colin Dick’ – Police. (1865, Nov. 9). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5773142 ‘Colin Dick’ – City Police Court. (1865, Nov. 10). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle155039906 ‘Fined for wandering pigs’ – News of the Day. (1866, Feb. 27). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article155043246 ‘Seizing a cab’ – Police. (1866, June 29). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5766445 ‘Fined for wandering goats and pigs’ – Police. (1866, Dec. 11). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5780753 ‘Lost deposit receipt’ – Advertising (1866, May 29). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle5763836 ‘Freemason’ – Andrea Lagogiannis. First year 1867. The Sandridge Marine Lodge. No. 768, 1070. Ancestry.com. England, United Grand Lodge of England Freemason Membership Registers, 1751–1921 (database on-line) ‘Confidence man’ – Suburban Police. (1867, Mar. 22). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-

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article155036160 ‘Bolingbroke’ – Police. (1867, July 23). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5773101 ‘Priest Christophoros in Sandhurst’ – News and Notes. (1867, Sept. 3). The Ballarat Star (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article112870015 ‘Respectfully solicits from the benevolent’ – Advertising (1867, Oct. 5). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article5779808] ‘Greek monk Christophoros’ – News of the Day. (1867, Nov. 2). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Feb. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article185506585 ‘Greek monk Christophoros’ – Gilchrist, H. (1992) Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, pp. 268–70 ‘Preparations for arrival of Prince Alfred’ – Scenes at Sandridge. (1867, Nov. 25). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article185503142 Reception of H.R.H. Prince Alfred. (1867, Nov. 30). Bell’s Life in Victoria (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article199053780 ‘Capital view of bay and passing of Prince’ – Advertising. (1867, Nov. 20). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 8. Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle5783885 ‘Auction at Chusan Hotel’ – Advertising. (1867, Dec. 14). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5785899 ‘Shop for rent’ – Advertising. (1868, Mar. 3). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 8. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5810157 ‘Shop for rent’ – Advertising (1868, June 27). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 8. Retrieved Jan. 28, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5820128 ‘Lost French poodle dog’ – Advertising. (1868, June 27). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5820158 ‘£2 reward for white poodle ‘Swiper’‘ – Victoria Police Gazette, July 9, 1868, p. 258. Ancestry.com. Vic., Aust., Police Gazettes, 1855, 1864–1924 (database on-line) ‘Mr Wigley solicitor’ – News of the Day. (1868, Aug. 21). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article177003319] City of Adelaide Steamer arrival from Melb. Sept. 1. Passengers … A. Lagogianis – Shipping. (1868, Sept. 4). Empire (Sydney, NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article60856790 Wonga Wonga for Melbourne. Passengers ... A. Lagogiannis, Lagogiannis, and 32 in the steerage – Clearances. Sept. 8. (1868, Sept. 9). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article13172499 ‘F. Lagogiannis’ – Hobson’s Bay. Arrived – Sept. 12. Wonga Wonga. Passengers

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– Cabin … F. Lagogianis. – Shipping. (1868, Sept. 14). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle177005409 ‘A Lagogiannis (mort), F. Lagogiannis’ – Hobson’s Bay. Arrived. – Sept. 12. Wonga Wonga from Sydney 8th inst. Passengers – saloon: ... A. Lagogiannis (mort), F. Lagogiannis ... and forty in the steerage – Shipping Intelligence. (1868, Sept. 14). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5827047 ‘Death of Athanas Lagogiannis’ – Family Notices (1868, Sept. 14). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5827063 ‘Funeral notice for Athanas’ – Family Notices (1868, Sept. 14). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 8. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5827097 ‘Selling liquor outside permitted hours’ – Police. (1868, Dec. 15). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5834817 ‘Stolen poodle ‘Fanny’’ – Victoria Police Gazette, Jan. 14, 1869, p. 10. Ancestry.com. Victoria, Australia, Police Gazettes, 1855, 1864–1924 (database on-line) ‘Legality of Chusan Hotel’s detached bars’ – News of the Day. (1870, Apr. 29). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article189326440 ‘Selling liquor from unlicensed bar’ – (1870, May 17). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle5820639 ‘Selling liquor from unlicensed bar’ – Police. (1870, May 19). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic. : 1848 – 1957), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5820832 ‘Fined for unlicensed bar’ – (1870, May 20). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5820898 ‘Letter to the editor’ – Lagogiannis v. Sandridge Council. (1870, May 23). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article5821043 ‘Appeal case’ – Law Notices. – (This Day.) (1870, June 24). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5823879 ‘Appeal allowed with costs’ – Legal Intelligence. (1870, June 27). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle189326468 ‘Women of ill fame’ – Police. (1870, July 19). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5826149 ‘Fined for Sunday trading’ – Sandridge. (1871, Jan. 12). The Herald (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article244808357 ‘In future more severely punished’ – Police. (1871, Jan. 13). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5840970

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‘Large and influential meeting’ – Publicans Bill. (1871, Feb. 10). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article203012837 ‘Meeting at Chusan Hotel’ – Town and Suburbs. (1871, Feb. 10). The Herald (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article244805710 ‘Publicans fined for selling alcohol on Sunday’ – Police. (1871, Feb. 22). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article5843117 135 ‘Lagogiannis again charged with selling alcohol on Sunday’ – Police. (1871, Mar. 21). The Argus (Melb., Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5844680 ‘Selling alcohol on Sunday … case resumed’ – Sandridge Police Court. (1871, Mar. 25). The Australasian (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 21. Jan. Retrieved 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article138082092 ‘Lagogiannis offering entertainments in hotel’ – Town and Suburbs. (1871, June 26). The Herald (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article244804443 ‘Concerts … blackened faces … nigger costume’ – Police. (1871, June 27). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article58503 136 ‘Prescribed Ethiopian form’ – News of the Day. (1871, June 27). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article203014420 ‘Three publicans summoned’ – Police. (1871, July 1). Leader (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 23. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle196835653 ‘Sale of contents and hotel licence’ – Advertising. (1871, July 24). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5851965 ‘Permitting a room to be used as a concert room’ – (1871, Sept. 19). The Argus 137 (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5855393 ‘Bench withdrew Lagogiannis’ licence’ – Important to Hotel keepers. (1871, Sept. 23). Weekly Times (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 11. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article220407226 ‘Magistrates cancelled Lagogiannis’ licence for allowing concert’ – News. (1871, Sept. 19). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article203018409 ‘Appeal – Lagogiannis v Mollison’ – (1871, Oct. 3). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle5855783 ‘Must quash the conviction’ – The News of the Day. (1871, Oct. 3). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article203012697 Wines, Beer, and Spirits Sales Statute. (1871, Oct. 7). Weekly Times (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article220407296

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‘Judge Cope allowed the objection’ – General Sessions. (1871, Oct. 7). Leader (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 22. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article196836182 138 ‘Sandridge Bench never received any official notification of the appeal and did not recognise it’ – News (1871, Dec. 19). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article203013536 ‘Charged for selling liquor without a licence’ – Police. (1872, Jan. 16). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article5858809 ‘Lagogiannis’ liquor to be forfeited’ – (1872, Jan. 26). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle5859142 ‘Police sent man to to buy bottle of gin’ – Accidents and Offences. (1872, Jan. 26). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article197447267 ‘Returned with a bottle of Old Tom gin’ – Police. (1872, Jan. 26). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5859114 ‘About £10 worth had been seized by the local police’ – Police. (1872, Jan. 27). Leader (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 21. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article204981525 139 ‘Claim by Mr P.J. Martin local brewer’ – (1872, Feb. 6). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5859472 ‘Mr P.J. Martin’ – Accidents and Offences. (1872, Feb. 6). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article197444657 ‘Alarming sacrifice about to be made’ – No title (1872, Feb. 8). The Herald (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article245700352 ‘‘Lagochy’s’ very beautiful cats’ – Police Intelligence. (1872, Mar. 8). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article197449848 ‘Divorce cases for trial’ – (1872, Apr. 30). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5862031 ‘Lagogiannis v. Lagogiannis’ – matrimonial jurisdiction (1872, May 2). Record (Emerald Hill, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article108481226 140 ‘Justice Barry hoped the reverend gentleman had not been late at the wedding’ – (1872, May 2). The Herald (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article245694992 ‘Case postponed… the clergyman who performed the marriage … not being in attendance’ – Law Courts. (1872, May 2). The Herald (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article245695012 ‘Relaxed his usual ‘judicial deportment’,’ – Sharps and Flats. (1872, May 9). Record (Emerald Hill, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article108481242

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‘Co-respondent had been a cook in his employ’ – (1872, May 15). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5862498 ‘Burst in the door’ – Legal Intelligence. (1872, May 15). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle197446382 ‘Co-respondent came to Melbourne with letters of introduction to the petitioner’ – Law Report. (1872, May 16). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5862541 ‘Lord Byron hotel’ – City Licensing Mtg. (1872, June 19). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5863613 ‘Neighbourhood sufficiently supplied’ – Quarterly Licensing Session. (1872, June 19). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article197444710 141 ‘Crusoe Gully’ – Lovell Chen Pty Ltd, [Lovell, Peter and ors] (2010) ‘City of Greater Bendigo, Heritage Policy Citations Project’. Bendigo City Council ‘Publican’s License for a house situate at Crusoe Gully’ – Advertisement. (1872, Nov. 15). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88246990 ‘Marquee for sale’ – Advertisement. (1873, May 12). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle88264699 ‘Lagogiannis v Hargreaves’ – City Police Court. (1873, May 20). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article88264896 ‘Civil Cases’ – City Police Court. (1873, Dec. 24). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article8822 ‘Civil Cases’ – City Police Court. (1874, Mar. 14). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88229039 ‘A sure fortune in this property, which will be disposed of at a very low figure’ – Advertisement. (1875, March 5). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88232780 142 Model Yacht Cup Race. (1876, June 23). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article882394 ‘Scullers’ race’ – Advertising. (1876, July 3). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88239735 ‘Meagre attendance and paucity of entries’ – Sandhurst. (1876, July 6). The Argus (Melb., Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5894168 ‘Foam came in an easy victor’ – Model Yacht Race. (1876, July 6). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article88239833 ‘A sculling match for a silver cup … gift of Mr Lagogiannis … Gillott won the cup’ – Sandhurst. (1876, July 13). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5894963 ‘For Sale Reservoir View Hotel’ – Advertising. (1877, Oct. 22). Bendigo

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Advertiser (Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article88207731 ‘Hotel … burned down’ – Police Court. (1877, Nov. 26). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle88208788 ‘Silkworms’ – Sandhurst. (1877, Dec. 22). Advocate (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article170438064 143 ‘Freemasons’ Hotel Pall Mall’ – Advertisement. (1877, Dec. 22). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article88209590 ‘Freemasons’ Pall Mall … renovation’ – Advertisement. (1878, May 17). Kerang Times and Swan Hill Gazette (Vic.), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article66493026 ‘Local Land Board at Kerang … application for 319 acres’ – Advertising 144 (1878, Apr. 23). The Riverine Herald (Echuca, Vic. : Moama, NSW), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article113581013 ‘Applications were recommended … A Lagogiannis’ – Local Land Board, Kerang. (1878, April 29). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88200398 ‘Quarterly meeting’ – Vine growers’ Association. (1878, May 16). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article88200896 ‘Annual meeting held at Freemasons’ Hotel’ – Bendigo Rowing Club. (1878, June 6). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88201585 ‘Annual dinner held at Freemasons’ Hotel’ – Bendigo Rowing Club. (1878, June 27). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88202278 ‘Silver cup, the gift of Mr Lagogiannis’ – Bendigo Rowing Club’s Regatta. (1878, Dec. 12). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88221368 ‘License application objection ... applicant allowed billiards on a Sunday morning … License granted’ – Licensing Bench. (1878, Dec. 24). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article88221777 ‘Meeting for presentation of silver cups’ – Bendigo Rowing Club. (1879, Feb. 1). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article88222942 ‘Severe accident to a somnambulist’ – (1879, Feb. 24). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle88223761 ‘Transfer of Freemasons’ Hotel Licence’ – Licensing Court. (1879, June 24). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article88213834 ‘Death. Andrea Lagogiannis, aged 58.’ – Family Notices (1879, June 28). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article8821

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‘Died from a combination of longstanding complaints’ – Sandhurst. (1879, June 30). The Argus (Melb., Vic), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5948786 ‘consumption and heart disease’ – Sandhurst. (1879, June 30). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article199357046 ‘Andrea Lagogiannis … aged 58’ – Family Notices. (1879, July 5). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5949445 145 ‘Application by Caroline Lagogiannis for publican’s License at Barr Creek’ – Licensing Notices. (1879, Nov. 28). Kerang Times and Swan Hill Gazette (Vic.), p. 3 (Weekly). Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article664948 ‘New licenses granted ... Caroline Lagogiannis’ – Kerang Licensing Meeting. (1879, Dec 19). Kerang Times and Swan Hill Gazette (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article66494951 ‘Missing Friends’ – Advert. (1880, July 28). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.)), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 29, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88636388 ‘Sailed. Sunday, December 26, R.M.S. Cathay for Melbourne. Passengers ... Mr Lagogiannis, from Suez’ – Shipping. (1881, January 1). Adelaide Observer (SA.), p. 25. Retrieved Jan. 30, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle160139700 ‘Mrs Lagogiannis, formerly of Crusoe and more recently of the Freemasons’ Hotel … landlady of the Barr Creek Hotel’ – Death of an Old Sandhurst Resident. (1881, June 22). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 30, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88634807 ‘Intestate Estates Carolina Lagogiannis’ – Advertising (1881, July 14). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Jan. 30, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle88635521

Chapter 9: Spiridion Candiottis 146 ‘January 19. – Alipore, ship, 811 tons, B.D. Freeman, commander, from London, via Dartmouth, Oct. 16. Passengers – cabin, thirty-seven, and 200 in the intermediate, &c.’ – Shipping Intelligence. (1853, Jan. 20). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article4789084 Public Records Office Victoria. Unassisted Inward Passengers index 947 – Candiottis, Spiridion – Ship: Alipore; Arrival Year: 1853; Arrival Month: Jan; Age: 29; Gender: M; Origin: Ital.; Origin port code: B; Fiche number: 27; Page of list: 2 Public Records Office Victoria. Unassisted Inward Passengers index 947 – Booker, Emma – Ship: Alipore; Arrival Year: 1853; Arrival Month: Jan; Age: 29; Gender: F; Origin: Eng; Origin port code: B; Fiche number: 27; Page of list: 1 ‘Misery these frail walls conceal from view’ – Canvas Town. (1853, Oct. 22). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 5. Retrieved Mar. 10, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article12949781

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147 ‘Dr Candiottis may be consulted daily at his residence, 9 Market-street, Emerald Hill’ – Advertising (1854, Dec. 28). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article4802326 148 Public Members Tree Results for Emma Maria Booker nee Tarplee – Ancestry. com; also: Emma Maria Booker (born Tarplee), 1823–1901, MyHeritage.com (databases on-line) Marriage – Booker, Emma, & Candiottis Spiridion. 1855. Reg. no. 1458/1855. Vic. Reg. of Births, Deaths & Marriages. Ancestry.com. Australia, Marriage Index, 1788–1950 (database on-line) ‘List of persons entitled to vote in the election of Members for the District of Talbot and District of Daisy Hill. Candiottis, Peridion. Amherst. Surgeon and M.D. Qualification: Business Licence and Miner’s Right’ – Legislative Assembly. (1856, May 27). Mount Alexander Mail (Vic.), p. 16. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article202633968 ‘Great Rush to some new ground near Dunolly’ – Local Intelligence. (1856, July 2). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article154866265 ‘The medical profession at Dunolly was represented by Dr Spiridion 149 Candiottis, who occupied a tent lined with green baize’ – New Chums on the Diggings. 1855–1857. (1914, Jan. 24). Western Star and Roma Advertiser (Toowoomba, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article98157188 Peribon (sic) Candiottis. Electoral Roll. 1856, Subdistrict Daisy Hill, Talbot; Victoria, District Loddon. Ancestry.com. Australia, Electoral Rolls, 1903– 1980 (database on-line) Birth. Eugen (sic) (Eugenie) Penelope Candiottis; About 1856; Dunolly, Victoria; Registration no. 13816; Father: Spiridion Candiottis; Mother Emma Maria Tarplee. Ancestry.com. Australia, Birth Index, 1788–1922 (database on-line) ‘Lost, from Dunolly one bay mare’ – Advertising. (1856, Oct. 4). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article87994661 150 ‘S. Candiottis. M.D., Surgeon and Accoucheur, member of the Medical Board of Victoria. … begs to announce to his numerous patients residing in Dunollv and its vicinity, intending to go to Mount Ararat, that his address there is Camp-street Government Road, next Mr Wright, Tobacconist, where he may be consulted daily’ – Advertising (1857, Aug. 21). Maryborough and Dunolly Advertiser (Vic.), p. 1. Retrieved Mar. 5, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article253585407 ‘Unfounded and malicious charge’ – To the Editor. (1857, Sept. 11). Maryborough and Dunolly Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article253585558 ‘Accident to Miss O’Reilly’ – The Provinces. (1857, Sept. 17). The Age 151 (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article154833695 ‘Death of Francis Marson’ – Suicide of a French Miner. (1858, Apr. 7). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article7292340

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152 ‘Serious Accident’ – Pleasant Creek Races. (1858, June 9). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle87980981 Another Case of Alleged Medical Malpractice. (1858, June 29). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article7296761 ‘Coroner not yet decided’ – A Late Case at the Wimmera. (1858, June 30). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article87981476 153 ‘A gentleman of very little temper or discretion’ – The Case of Alleged Medical Malpractice at Pleasant Creek. (1858, July 12). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article7297414 ‘Dr Candiottis should be brought before a jury’ – The Press and its Assailants. (1858, July 17). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article154874605 154 ‘Foreigner-like he kicked.’ – Assaulting a Reporter. (1858, July 30). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article7298453 Odds and Ends. (1858, Aug. 2) Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article87982278 155 ‘Position of a gentleman’ – Duelling and the Law. (1858, Aug. 5). The Age (Melbourne), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle154878597 ‘The last scene in the farce’ – Pleasant Creek.(1858, Aug. 20). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article154875709 156 ‘Recent rushes to Crowlands and Ararat have caused this hitherto populous field to be almost deserted.’ – Pleasant Creek. (1859, Mar. 3). The Colonial Mining Journal, (Vic.), p. 12. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article212589262 ‘In Crowlands another daughter, Arethusa, was born to the doctor and his wife, but died of malignant tonsilitis when she was two years old.’ – Gilchrist, H. (1992) Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, p. 98 157 ‘Corfu Reef ’ – Mining Intelligence. (1859, Nov. 2). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle87993229 ‘Hellas Reef ’ – Mining. (1859, Dec. 1). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article154880263 ‘George Cullodi’ – Castlemaine Supreme Court. (1854, Oct. 13). Mount Alexander Mail (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Mar. 5, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article202632884 ‘I have given you your mark’ – Northern Circuit Court. (1854, December 15). Mount Alexander Mail (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Mar. 5, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article202631782 ‘Murderer cut his own throat.’ – Frightful Murder and Attempted Suicide. (1859, April 1). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article87988076

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158 ‘Elizabeth Schafer’ – Back Creek. (1859, Apr. 27). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle5680179 ‘Elizabeth Schafer.’ – Inquest. (1859, May 23). The Star (Ballarat, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article66053195 ‘Two men of color smothered’ – Mining Intelligence. (1859, June 3). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article87989539 ‘Shot an intimate friend’ – Back Creek. (1859, June 17). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle87989891 ‘Trajectory was not fatal’ – Mining Intelligence. (1859, June 3). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article87989539 ‘Trial of Alexander Goiga’ – Castlemaine Criminal Sessions. (1859, July 1). Mount Alexander Mail (Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article199047768 159 ‘Gored by bullocks’ – Back Creek. (1859, July 19). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article87990715 The Late Case of a Man Gored to Death by a Bullock. (1859, July 26). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article87990873 ‘Little girl ... kick from a horse’ – Dr Evans at Dunolly. (1859, Sept. 30). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article87992510 ‘Margaret Jones’ – The Gale of Sunday. (1859, October 6). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5689415 Fatal Accident … Hurricane on Sunday. (1859, Oct. 8). The Kyneton Observer (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle240847045 160 ‘Two Germans’ – Mining Intelligence. (1859, Oct. 12). Geelong Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle146567512 ‘Thomas McNamara’ – Back Creek. (1859, Nov. 5). The Star (Ballarat, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle72462968 ‘Gloomy end of their daughter Margaret’ – Back Creek. (1859, Nov. 1). The Star (Ballarat, Vic), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article72462883 161 ‘Main Lead is busier than ever’ – Back Creek. (1859, Nov. 9). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article87993391 ‘Brain protrudes through the opening in the skull ‘ – The Late Horrible Affair at the Mia Mia. (1859, Dec. 19). Mount Alexander Mail (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article199048766 Horrible Affair at the Mia Mia. (1859, Dec. 23). Geelong Advertiser (Vic.), p.

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3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article146565792 ‘Medical care free of charge’ – Affair at the Mia Mia. (1859, Dec. 28). Mount Alexander Mail (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article199050393 ‘Pulsation of blood’ – Affair at the Mia Mia . (1860, Jan. 7). Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle28628035 162 ‘Removed to Dr Candiottis’ establishment’ – The Mia Mia Affair. (1860, Feb. 3). Mount Alexander Mail (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article199050437 ‘The Mia Mia assault’ – Castlemaine Circuit Court. (1860, Feb. 23). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article87941906 ‘Dr Candiottis … called at the office of this paper’ – Mia Mia Assault. (1860, Feb. 24). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article87941935 ‘Bowen object of public interest for a long time.’ – Extraordinary Cure. (1860, Mar. 10). Examiner (Kiama, NSW), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article102523240 ‘Greeks’ Reef ’ – New Inglewood. (1860, Apr. 13). Geelong Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Mar. 5, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article148790121 ‘Greeks’ Reef ’ – Inglewood. (1860, Sept. 21). Mount Alexander Mail (Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved Mar. 5, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article199602957 ‘Greeks’ Reef ’ – Mining Intelligence. (1860, Nov. 7). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 6. Retrieved Mar. 5, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle5692847 163 ‘Five or six tons caved in upon him’ – Inglewood Police Court. (1860, Apr. 4). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article87942847 ‘Unnatural offence’ – Inglewood Police Court. (1860, Apr. 4). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article87942847 ‘Suspended from the tye-beam of her tent’ – Suicide. (1860, May 29). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article154841754 ‘Dead body found’ – Melbourne News. (1860, Apr. 16). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle87943077 ‘Striking him on the head with a shovel’ – Castlemaine Circuit Court. (1860, Aug. 9). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article5687540 Suicide of Telegraph-master at Sandy Creek. (1860, Nov. 22). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article5693688 164 Petition in support of Candiottis’ appointment as Coroner, KingowerKorong, 23 Oct. 1860; also file note, 1 Nov. 1860 – VPRS 266 Inward Correspondence to Attorney-General/Law Dept. Unit 33, No. 5810

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Applications by Candiottis for appointment Coroner Redbank 14 Mar. and 20 Apr. 1861 – VPRS 266 Inward Correspondence to the Attorney-General/ Law Dept. Unit 33, Nos. 1373 and 1787 Further application by Candiottis for appointment Coroner Redbank 23 Aug. 1861 – VPRS 266 Inward Corresp. to the Attorney-General/Law Dept. Unit 33, No. 3803 ‘Professional malice’ – Medical Profession. (1860, Dec. 1). Bendigo Advertiser (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle87948367 165 ‘Stolen ... nearly new pigskin saddle Redbank’ – Victoria Police Gazette, April 18, 1861, page 153. Ancestry.com. Australia, Police Gazettes, 1854–1930 (database on-line) 166 ‘Elizabeth (Eliza) Randall inquest’ – Redbank. (1861, June 24). The Star (Ballarat, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle66340149 ‘Trenery on trial’ – Telegraphic Despatches. (1861, July 1). Mount Alexander Mail (Vic.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle199605128 ‘Unqualified doctors’ – Fatal Maltreatment. (1861, Aug. 23). The Age (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article154900723 Candiottis, Spiridion. 1862. Surgeon.182 King-street (Melbourne) – Ancestry. com. Australia, City Directories, 1845–1948 (database on-line) Arrivals. Oct. 4. City of Sydney, from Melbourne. Passengers:- Mrs Candiottis and 2 children’ – Shipping. (1861, Oct. 5). The Sydney Morning Herald, p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article13066675 Arrivals Nov. 22. City of Sydney, from Melbourne. Passengers – Candiottis ...’ – The Shipping Gazette. (1861, Nov. 30). Sydney Mail (NSW), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article166694410 167 ‘Forbes NSW’ – Forbes 92 years ago. (1953, May 15). Forbes Advocate (NSW), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle220723827 ‘Forbes NSW’ – Brutal Outrage. (1862, May 26). Empire (Sydney, NSW), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article60475950 ‘The skilful services of Dr S. Candiottis ‘ – Murderous Assault at the Lachlan. (1862, May 29). The Maitland Mercury and Hunter River General Advertiser (NSW), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle18688556 ‘We subjoin a description of his wounds’ – Murderous Outrage at the Lachlan. (1862, May 31). Empire (Sydney), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article60476193 ‘A live carpet snake (Morelia variegata) [donated by] Dr S. Candiottis’ – Donations to Australian Museum during Sept. 1862. (1862, Oct. 6). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article13235093 ‘Candiottis’ NSW medical registration’ – Candiottis, Spiridion; Oct. 7, 1862; Quaifications registered, ‘MD of Corfu’. Ancestry.com. New South Wales, Australia, Government Gazettes, 1853–1899 (database on-line)

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NSW Medical Board Register of Medical Practitioners for 1890 ... No. of certificate: 553. Date of Registration: October 7, 1862. Name: Candiottis, Spiridion. Address: [in 1890] Queensland. Qualifications registered: M.D. of Corfu. – Supplement to NSW Govt. Gazette No. 30 Wednesday, 15 Jan., 1890 ‘A Card. – Dr Candiottis formerly of Victoria, and late of Forbes, 193 Castlereagh-street.’ – Advertising. (1863, Jan. 14). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle13072495 168 ‘A sea snake (Platurus laticaudatus) donated by Mrs Candiottis’ – List of Donations to the Australian Museum During May, 1863. (1863, June 8). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 5. Retrieved June 10, 2020, from http:// nla.gov.au/nla.news-article13079676 ‘George Manwell ... a Greek’ – Central Criminal Court. (1863, Apr. 1). Freeman’s Journal (Sydney), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article115428201 ‘Dr Candiottis, … not a superficial wound.’ – Law. (1863, Mar. 31). The Sydney Morning Herald, p. 5. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article13076428 ‘Sale of very choice and elegant and useful House-hold Furniture, Brilliant toned Cottage Pianoforte’ – Advertising (1863, Apr. 8). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 7. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle13076701 169 ‘Departures. April 28. Balclutha, for Rockhampton. Passengers ... Dr Candiottis.’ – (1863, Apr. 25). Sydney Mail (NSW), p. 9. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article166658514 ‘Clearances – May 23 Balclutha for Rockhampton. Passengers … Mrs Candiottis and child ...’ – Shipping. (1863, May 25). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle13078990 ‘S. Candiottis M.D., Surgeon & Accoucheur’ – Advertising. (1863, May 23). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Apr. 18, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51558138 ‘Attempted suicide’ – Rockhampton. (1863, May 22). The Courier (Brisbane, Qld.) p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle3163436 ‘Removed to new residence’ – Advertising. (1863, June 10). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51558283 Masonic Ball. (1863, June 27). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article51558450 170 ‘Morisset’s arm hanging down’ – Rockhampton Fifty Years Ago. (1909, Aug. 7). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 9. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article53185030 ‘Hugh Landreth’ – (1863, July 2). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article51558488

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171 ‘John Robinson received improper medical treatment’ – Inquiry. (1863, Aug. 27). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51559106 172 ‘Candiottis’ letter’ – To the Editor of the Bulletin. (1863, Sept. 3). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51559174 174 ‘S. Candiottis M.D. … Legally qualified by the Boards of Queensland, NSW and Victoria’ – Advertising. (1863, Oct. 10). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51559519 ‘Candiottis noted as qualified under Medical Act 1861’ – Notes and News. (1863, Oct. 13). North Australian (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article77437102 ‘A minor transgression’ – Police Court. (1864, Feb. 20). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51560855 ‘Reminiscences … McClelland’ – Fifty Years Ago. (1909, May 15). The Capricornian (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 41. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article71965914 ‘Auction. Rockhampton. House occupied by Dr Candiotties’ – Advertising. (1864, May 28). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 8. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article13086064 175 De Satge, O. (1901) Pages from the Journal of a Queensland Squatter, ‘Ch. XI. Life On Peak Downs’ and ‘Ch. XII Some Lawless Deeds In Early Days Queensland’ ‘Discovery and development of the Peak Downs’ – Smith, H. (1962) Clermont centenary celebrations 1962: celebrating the centenary of the town of Clermont in 1862 pp. 9–18 ‘McDonald and Mollard made the first gold discovery’ – Clermont and District Early History. (1899, Sept. 16). The Capricornian (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 21. Retrieved Mar. 9, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle68194821 ‘Gold on the Peak Downs’ – Smith, H. (1962) Clermont centenary celebrations 1962: celebrating the centenary of the town of Clermont in 1862, p. 18 ‘A wall of copper ore standing like a pinnacle’ – Smith, H. (1962) Clermont 176 centenary celebrations 1962: celebrating the centenary of the town of Clermont in 1862, p. 20. ‘Mollard revealed discovery to Manton’ – Clermont’s History. (1917, Jan. 6). The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 37. Retrieved Mar. 10, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article22334602 177 ‘Robbery. Ionian Peter Colandres’ – Clermont. (1864, June 2). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland. Advertiser, p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51561796 ‘Trial. Peter Colandres’ – Rockhampton Assizes. (1864, Oct. 13). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser, p.2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51563611 ‘Dr Candiottis arrived in his ‘buggy’’ – Peak Downs. (1864, June 21). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser, p. 4. Retrieved Jan.

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31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51563529 ‘Death of Luke Clinch’ – Peak Downs. (1864, June 23). Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser (Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article150317040 ‘Medical Hall of Dr Candiottis’ – Peak Downs. (1864, July 21). Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser (Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article147935220 ‘Charles Buzacott comes to Clermont’ – Peak Downs. (1864, August 11). Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser (Qld.), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article147934357 ‘Forthcoming newspaper, the Peak Downs Telegram’ – Advertising. (1864, Aug. 27). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51562560 ‘Charles Hardie Buzacott given up as incurable consumptive.’ – Smith, H. (1962) Clermont centenary celebrations 1962: celebrating the centenary of the town of Clermont in 1862, p. 23 ‘Church of England services for Clermont’ – Clermont. (1864, Dec. 13). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article1265577 ‘Blacks “dispersed” in the usual and approved manner … skeletons of diggers in the bush’ – Clermont. (1864, Dec. 28). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article1266268 ‘Drays loaded with copper for Broadsound’ – Peak Downs. (1864, Dec. 17). Queensland Times, Ipswich Herald and General Advertiser (Qld.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article123606977 ‘First loaded copper drays start for coast … John Baulch and others’ – Clermont. (1865, Jan. 24). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article1267390 ‘Hospital cannot be opened’ – Clermont Hospital. (1865, Mar. 25). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser, p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51566633 ‘Drs. Smith and Candiottis invited to act pro tem as honorary visiting surgeons’ – Clermont Hospital. (1865, May 27). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser, p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article51567076 ‘Death of Daly the Sheriff’s bailiff’ – Peak Downs. (1865, June 13). Queensland Times, Ipswich Herald and General Advertiser, p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article123148635 ‘Thomas John Griffin’ – De Satge, O. (1901) Pages from the Journal of a Queensland Squatter, ‘Ch. XII Some Lawless Deeds In Early Days Queensland’ ‘Thomas John Griffin’ – Smith, H. (1962) Clermont centenary celebrations 1962: celebrating the centenary of the town of Clermont in 1862, p. 24 ‘Clermont petitions the government for a provincial council’ – Advertising. (1865, June 3). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser, p. 1. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51566469 ‘Droit du Seigneur… ukase’. (1865, Dec. 6). Northern Argus (Rockhampton,

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(Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle214409178 ‘Chinese miners leaving with gold or cash £700 per man … Stabbing of Fred Wichmann’ – Peak Downs. (1865, Oct. 21). Northern Argus (Rockhampton (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle214406320 ‘Pringle’ – Clermont. (1865, Nov. 4). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 6. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article1281557 ‘Mrs Rose gored by a cow at the dairy’ – Peak Downs Telegram. (1865, Dec. 6). Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article147935845 ‘Wildie v. Candiottis at Police Court’ – Clermont. (1865, Dec. 30). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51565970 ‘Wildie v. Candiottis’ – Clermont Police Court. (1866, Jan. 9). Queensland Times, Ipswich Herald and General Advertiser (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article123333230 ‘Disgust at … the malignity of a man’ – Clermont. (1865, Dec. 30). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Mar. 11, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51565970 ‘His magnificent physique’ – Smith, H. (1962) Clermont centenary celebrations 1962: celebrating the centenary of the town of Clermont in 1862, p. 25 ‘Rough in manner, fierce in looks’ – The Medical Profession. (1926, Mar. 13). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 7. Retrieved Mar. 11, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article54320681 ‘Election of Travers on the nomination of Candiottis’ – Clermont Nomination. (1866, Sept. 25). Queensland Times, Ipswich Herald & General Advertiser (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 1, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article123331718 ‘A sum of about £211 has already been subscribed’ – Roman Catholic Church at Clermont. (1866, May 29). Queensland Times, Ipswich Herald and General Advertiser (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 1, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article123334492 ‘Black gin on dray, chained’ – Trial for Murder of a Blackfellow. (1866, Oct. 13). Freeman’s Journal (Sydney, NSW), p. 651. Retrieved Feb. 1, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article115451841 ‘Gaden has only been guilty of an action which few of our pioneers could truthfully plead innocence of ’ – Clermont. (1866, Apr. 23). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle1266240 ‘A recent murder by the blacks at Tryphena Vale’ – Clermont. (1866, Apr. 23). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Jan. 31, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article1266240 ‘Stock watered by wells … terrible gun shot wound to hand … fat and flesh’ – Peak Downs. (1866, Sept. 15). Queensland Times, Ipswich Herald and General Advertiser (Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Feb. 1, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article123334460 ‘A sable warrior caught Mr Henry by the leg’ – Clermont. (1867, Jan. 19). The

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news-article51909000 ‘Dr Candiottis may be consulted at Leichhardt Hotel’ – Advertising. (1875, Aug. 19). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 1. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51781186 ‘Dr Candiottis’ preparation for snake bite’ – Peak Downs. (1876, Jan. 26). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51902368 ‘Candiottis v Shields’ – Clermont. (1877, Dec. 5). The Telegraph (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle169498235 ‘Mayne v Candiottis’ – Clermont. (1880, Nov. 20). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle883188 ‘Mayne v Candiottis’ – Specialties. (1880, Nov. 27). The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 689. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article20336903 ‘Mayne v Candiottis’ – (1880, Dec. 3). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article899406 ‘Mayne v Candiottis’ – Peak Downs. (1881, Jan. 1). The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 7. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article20704319 ‘William Critchmond’ – Peak Downs. (1876, Apr. 15). The Capricornian (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 253. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article65733575 ‘Little girl badly burned on chest’ – Peak Downs. (1876, Sept. 26). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51905886 ‘Clothes caught fire’ – Peak Downs. (1876, Oct. 4). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51905994 ‘Martha Smith a burns victim’ – Peak Downs. (1876, Oct. 31). Rockhampton Bulletin and Central Queensland Advertiser (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article51906381 ‘Ah Hing indicted for wounding Ah Shee’ – (1877, Apr. 14). The Capricornian (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 6. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article65763597 ‘Clermont School of Arts’ – Our History (1950, Dec. 5). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 8. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article57084730 ‘Cheers and groans’ – Peak Downs Hospital. (1879, Feb. 18). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved June 16, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article51991304 ‘We have Chinese doctors, publicans’ – Copperfield. (1877, Aug. 29). The Telegraph (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article169500160 ‘Great destitution’ – Distress at Copperfield. (1879, February 8). Logan Witness (Beenleigh, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/

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nla.news-article163899161 ‘No one employed on the mine – (Copperfield Advocate.) (1879, Mar. 12). The Daily Northern Argus (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article213383281 ‘Cashion have taken down part of their store’ – Copperfield. (1879, Nov. 22). The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 647. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article20329652 ‘Whole enterprise on the market at £20,000’ – Mine. (1881, June 21). Yorke’s Peninsula Advertiser (SA.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article216309041 ‘Telegraph station at Copperfield to close’ – Given Up. (1886, June 26). The Telegraph (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article174700615 ‘Train whistle heard at Clermont’ – Clermont (1884, Feb. 23). The 233 Capricornian (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 17. Retrieved Mar. 13, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article67863372 ‘Goods delivered from the train’ – Clermont. (1884, Mar. 15). The Capricornian (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 18. Retrieved Mar. 13, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article67865570 ‘Telegraphic chess match’ – Local & General News. (1884, Aug. 30). The Capricornian (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 14. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article67863534 ‘Refusal of Dr Candiottis to sit on the Clermont Bench beside Mayor Leo Damke’ – (1884, June 21). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article52029946 ‘Dr Candiottis, J.P., doesn’t like Mayor Damke, and Leo Damke reciprocates’ – A Clermont Trouble. (1884, June 21). Queensland Figaro (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article83673963 ‘Public meeting calls for removal of Candiottis as Justice of the Peace’ – Current Events. (1884, July 18). The Western Champion (Blackall/Barcaldine, Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle79727120 ‘Sixty couples danced the polonaise’ – Leo Damke Mayor of Clermont. (1884, Sept. 20). Queensland Figaro (Brisbane), p. 29. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article83674870 ‘Rockhampton Chess Club challenge to Clermont Chess Club’ – Roundabout. (1884, Dec. 20). Queensland Figaro (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 11. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article83675879 ‘Name omitted … Candiottis, Spiridion’ – Commission of Peace for 1885. (1885, Jan. 2). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 5. Retrieved Feb, 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article3437733 234 ‘The doctor’s tower’ – A Visit to Peak Downs. (1885, November 2). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 5. Retrieved June 16, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article52043337 ‘Plato in modern costume’ – A Winter Tour in Queensland. (1885, Aug. 29). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 4. Retrieved June 16, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article6093091

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‘Anne Judge … infanticide’ – Rockhampton Circuit Court. (1885, Apr. 22). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton Qld.), p. 4. Retrieved Feb, 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article52038176 235 ‘A hearty Yorkshire navvy on Sandy Creek’ – 1,050 Miles on Foot. (1885, Nov. 28). Queensland Figaro and Punch (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 9. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article84681881 236 ‘Candiotte by David G. Falk’ – Bush and Camp. (1887, May 28). The Australasian (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 42. Retrieved Feb. 3, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article142440418 241 ‘Candiottis compelled to retire on account of ill-health’ – Advertising. (1890, Dec. 11). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article3517553 ‘Arrivals on Rodondo steamer from Brisbane 12th inst. Passengers: … (Mrs.) Candiottes ... Dr Candiottes’ – Shipping. (1890, Dec. 15). The Daily Telegraph (Sydney, NSW), p. 7. Retrieved June 16, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article235795868 ‘Dr and Mrs Candiottis arrived from Sydney by the Arawatta on Friday, and are now staying at the Gresham’ – Social Doings. (1891, Mar. 16). The Telegraph (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article172649027 ‘Arrivals April 4, from Sydney via ports. Passengers – Candiottis, ... Dr Candiottis’ – Shipping. (1891, Apr. 11). The Capricornian (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 20. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle71923732 ‘Funeral of the late Dr S. Candiottis’ – Family Notices (1891, Jun. 4). The Daily Northern Argus (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 1. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article213480642 ‘A physician of great reading and experience’ – Dr Candiottis (1891, Jun. 4). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 5. Retrieved February 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article52345931 ‘The well known Dr Candiottis, of Clermont’ – News (1891, Jun. 4). The Daily Northern Argus (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article213480653 ‘Grave of Dr Spiridion Candiottis’ – Find a Grave. Retrieved 16 June 2020, from https://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=160406154 (database on-line) ‘The Committee acknowledged, with thanks, the receipt of a parcel of men’s clothing from Mrs Candiottis’ – Rockhampton Benevolent Society. (1891, July 9). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 5. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article52347397 ‘Dr Candiottis’ will. – probate granted to Emma Candiottis, widow, realty and personalty £3363 19s 4d.’ – General News. (1891, July 28). The Daily Northern Argus (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article213343048 243 ‘Erection of a wooden cottage ... Bolsover-street’ – Advertising. (1891, Nov. 30). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton), p. 1. Retrieved Feb. 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article52427163 ‘Mrs Candiottis, … gray and white bonnet’ – Woman’s World. (1896, Apr.

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24). The Brisbane Courier (Qld.), p. 6. Retrieved February 2, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article3624161 Death of Mrs Candiottis. (1901, Oct. 17). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 5. Retrieved Feb. 3, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle52744636 ‘Lived to the ripe age of nearly 80 years … mother of Mr J.W. Booker, storekeeper, of Aramac’ – Mrs Candiottis (1901, Oct. 21). The Western Champion and General Advertiser for the Central-Western Districts (Barcaldine, Qld.), p. 11. Retrieved Feb. 3, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle76569580 ‘Mr Joseph Booker (of Aramac) ... funeral of Mrs E.M. Candiottis, to move from her late residence, ‘Hillcrest’ Canning-street, this day, at 12 noon, for the Rockhampton Cemetery’ – (1901, Oct. 16). Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld.), p. 1. Retrieved Feb. 3, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle52744569 244 ‘in fighting, being a Greek’ – (1907, January 1). Queensland Country Life (Qld.), p. 3. Retrieved October 21, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle100867757

Chapter 10: In Search of the First Greek 245 ‘Four indomitable Greeks’ – Gilchrist, H. (1992) Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, p. 12. ‘Seven Greek pirates’ – Gilchrist, H. (1984) ‘The Greek Connection in the Nineteenth Century’, Canberra Historical Journal, Sept. 1984. ‘Seven Greek pirates’ – Gilchrist, H. (1992) Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, pp. 25–44 ‘Speculations about early arrivals’ – Gilchrist, H. Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, pp. 20–24. ‘Sydney Gazette warning of dangers from Greek convicts’ – Alexakis, E. and Janiszewski, L. (1998) In Their Own Image: Greek-Australians. Sydney: Hale & Iremonger, p. 10. ‘Dangers from Greek riff-raff’ – Alexakis, E. and Janiszewski, L. (1995) ‘That Bastard Ulysses: an insight into the early Greek presence, 1810s to 1940’ in S. Fitzgerald and G. Wotherspoon (eds), Minorities: Cultural Diversity in Sydney, State Library of New South Wales Press, Sydney, pp. 15, 31. 246 ‘Conjecture and fable’ – Turnbull, C. and Valiotis, C. (2001) A Thematic History of Greek Settlement in New South Wales. NSW Heritage Office and University of NSW, p. 5. ‘Greek convict Simmons or Simmonds’ – Gilchrist (1992) Australians and Greeks: Vol. 1, The Early Years, p. 71. ‘Greek convict Joseph Simmonds’ – Turnbull, C. and Valiotis, C. (2001) A Thematic History of Greek Settlement in NSW. Heritage Office and University of NSW, p. 6. ‘Timoleon Vlasto’ – see Chapter 6. Timoleon Vlasto. 247 ‘George Greece’ – E. Alexakis and L. Janiszewski, ‘That Bastard Ulysses: an insight into the early Greek presence, 1810s to 1940’ in S. Fitzgerald and G. Wotherspoon (eds), Minorities: Cultural Diversity in Sydney, State Library of

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New South Wales Press, Sydney, 1995, p. 16. ‘George Greece, free’ – The Police. (1826, Feb. 11). The Sydney Gazette and NSW Advertiser (NSW), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 7, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article2185219 ‘John Jobbins, George Greece, Executors’ – Classified Advertising (1828, Oct. 29). The Sydney Gazette and NSW Advertiser (NSW), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 25, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article2191262 ‘George Papas’ – Meader, C. (1997) ‘Beyond the boundary stone: A History of Camperdown Cemetery’. Marrickville Council Library p. 16 ‘Papas noted as Aborigine’ – Camperdown Cemetery, NSW, Established 1849. Retrieved 8 Feb., 2020. Burial number 130; Name Papas, George; Date of Death 21 Aug. 1849; Age 35; NSW BDM death Ref. 430/1849; Notes ‘Aborigine’: http://gutenberg.net.au/camperdownNSW/_namelistdeathdateorder.html ‘Papas included among Aboriginal graves’ – Gledhill, P. (1934). ‘Prominent Australians and importance of Camperdown Cemetery, NSW.’ Newtown. Trustees, Camperdown Cemetery, p. 16. ‘Rangers League obelisk’ – Meader, C. (1997) ‘Beyond the boundary stone: A history of Camperdown Cemetery’. Marrickville Council Library, pp. 17, 18. ‘In 1814, George Papas was born in colonial Sydney’ – Apostolou, Panos. (2017) ‘The first Greek-Australian Indigenous man: George Pappas: What we know.’ SBS Radio Interview of historian Leonard Janiszewski. Retrieved 8 Feb. 2020, from https://www.sbs.com.au/language/english/the-first-greekaustralian-indigenous-man-george-pappas-what-we-know ‘George Papas.’ – Coroners’ Inquests. (1849, Aug. 25). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 3. Retrieved Feb. 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle12904766 248 ‘George Papas’ – Shipping intelligence. Arrivals. Duke of Roxburgh (1849, August 14). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article12911909 ‘Described in burial certificate as man of colour’ – Newtown Project, Camperdown Cemetery. Retrieved 8 Feb., 2020, from https://www. newtownproject.com.au/welcome-to-the-newtown-project/cadigal-newtownintroduction/4/ ‘Man of colour’ – Meader, C. 1997, p.16, George Papas, BDM Death Certificate V1849430 34B/1849; copy of Church of England burial record, NSW Reg. of Births Deaths and Marriages. ‘George Manuel or Emanuel’ – Parramatta. (1878, June 28). The Sydney 249 Morning Herald (NSW), p. 5. Retrieved Feb. 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article13424405 ‘Death of George Emanuel’ – Family Notices. (1878, June 27). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 1. Retrieved Feb. 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article13411709 ‘George the Greek’ – Death of a Centenarian. (1878, July 5). The Kiama Independent and Shoalhaven Advertiser (NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article114190534 George Emanuel. Death date: 1878. Paramatta NSW. Registration No. 8716. Ancestry.com. Australia, Death Index, 1787–1985 (database on-line)

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‘Old George the Greek’ – (1875, Dec. 14). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 6. Retrieved Feb. 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle13364394 250 ‘Bridge over creek at Radleys Castle Hill once known as George the Greek’s’ – Tenders. (1897, Feb. 6). The Cumberland Free Press (Parramatta, NSW), p. 12. Retrieved Feb. 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article144442797 ‘Thief named Harry’ – Police Gazette 6 December 1871, p. 321. Ancestry. com. New South Wales, Australia, Police Gazettes, 1854–1930 (database online) ‘Manuel’s horse slightly injured’ – Accident. (1862, Feb. 17). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), p. 5. Retrieved Feb. 8, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/ nla.news-article13224695 ‘Married at reported age of 99 years’ – Death of a Centenarian. (1878, July 1). Evening News (Sydney, NSW), p. 2. Retrieved Feb. 8, 2020, from http://nla. gov.au/nla.news-article107947263 George Emanuel. Marriage 1876. Spouse: Anne Nash. NSW. Parramatta. Reg. No. 3850. Ancestry.com. Australia, Marriage Index, 1788–1950 (database on-line) 251 ‘Edward Taylor, Castle Hill, freeholder; probate granted September 28 to Ann Nash; testator died September 24, 1874; goods sworn under £100’ – Probates and Administrations. (1878, Sept. 14). Australian Town and Country Journal (Sydney, NSW), p. 23. Retrieved Feb. 23, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla. news-article70594738 ‘Probate estate George Emanuel’ – State Records of New South Wales. NRS13660-3-[17/1850]-Series 3_2495 | George Emanuel Date of death 22 June 1878, Granted on 18 July 1878. Record Type (Index/Probate). ‘Anne Nash’ – Ancestry.com/State Records Authority NSW, Australia, Convict Indents 1788–1842, for Anne Nash. Non annotated printed indentures 1839 (database on-line) ‘Anne Nash’ – Ancestry.com. NSW, Australia, Unassisted Immigrant Passenger Lists, 1826–1922 (database on-line) ‘George Manuel in electoral roll at South Colo’ – 1861–62. No. 1449. Resid. South Colo. Qualif. Freehold. Ancestry.com. NSW, Australian Historical Electoral Rolls, 1842–1864 (database on-line) ‘George Manuel in electoral roll at at Dural’ – 1859–60. No. 963. Resid. South Colo. Qualif. Freehold. Situate Dural. Ancestry.com. NSW, Australian Historical Electoral Rolls, 1842–1864 (database on-line) ‘George Manuel at Field of Mars’ – 1841 Census NSW. George Manuel. Return No. 882. Resid. Field of Mars, P’matta. Persons 2. Ancestry.com. 1841 NSW, Aust., Census (database on-line) ‘Land at Field of Mars’ – Colonial Secretary Register of land purchases/sales 1838–56. Applicant Geo. Manuel of Pennant Hills. Lot 122. 30 acres at Field of Mars. Price £1. Notified 16 Feb. 1839. Ancestry.com. NSW Aust., Land Grants, 1788–1963 (database on-line) ‘George Emanuel, sale of land at Parramatta’ – 12 Sep. 1832. Assignment to John William Parrington of land in the town of P’arramatta. Price £7. State Records Authority of NSW; Kingswood, NSW, Aust.; Archive Reel: 1574; Series: 12992; Description: Registers of Memorials for Land. 1825–1842.

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Ancestry.com. NSW, Australia, Land Grants, 1788–1963 (database on-line) ‘Geo Emanuel came in the brig the Courier’ – Geo Emanuel. Departure 17 Apr. 1824. Destination Port: London, England. Ship Courier. Rank Seaman. Note: ‘Came in the Brig’. State Archives NSW; Ships musters; Series: 1289; Items: 4/4775; Reel: 562; Page: 130. Ancestry.com. NSW, Australia, Departing Crew and Passenger Lists, 1816–1825, 1898–1911 (database on-line) ‘George Manuel Belinda’ – George Manuel. Departure 12 May 1824. Desination Port: Fishing Voyage. Ship Belinda. Rank. Seaman. Note: ‘Came in the Brig Courier’. State Archives NSW; Ships musters; Series: 1289; Items: 4/4775; Reel: 562; Page: 150. Ancestry.com. New South Wales, Australia, Departing Crew and Passenger Lists, 1816–1825, 1898–1911 (database on-line) 252 Manual, George. Quarter Sessions Cases 1824–1837. Item No. [4/8432]. Page No. 397. Reel No. 2412. Entry No. 18. Date 1832–1832. Place: Parramatta. Record Type (Index). Hard copy. ‘Prisoner George Manual [Manuel]’ – Free at entry. Mariner. Arrival Ship ‘Carrier’ [Courier] 1823. Native place Corfu. Admitted 20 November 1832 at Sydney Gaol. Gaol location Newcastle. State Archives NSW; Roll: 134. Ancestry.com. NSW, Australia, Gaol Description and Entrance Books, 1818– 1930 (database on-line) ‘Greek Catholic’ – Price, Charles (ed) (1975) Greeks in Australia. ANU Press, p. 9 ‘Cooper purchased brig Courier’ – (1828, June 28). The Hobart Town Courier (Tasmania), p. 3. Retrieved Mar. 14, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle4222037 ‘Courier belonging to Messrs. Cooper and Levey’ – Commercial interests. (1828, Oct. 17). The Australian (Sydney, NSW), p. 3. Retrieved Mar. 14, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article36866180

Photographs and Illustrations Cover illustration – ‘Imagining the Hellas Reef in September 1859’ by Zoe MacPhail. When Greek gold miners discovered the Hellas Reef in Victoria they flew the Greek flag over their claim in celebration; after, ‘Discovery of a quartz reef’ by Nicholas Chevalier, The Australian News for Home Readers (Victoria), June 25, 1864 1. ‘Native Mounted Police officers and troopers at Rockhampton in the 1860s’ – Murray Family Pictorial Material. Mitchell Library NSW. PXE 1635 2. ‘Genatas’ letter of resignation May 1862’ – QSA ID 846760, 18 May 1862 3. ‘Chusan Hotel renamed as Lamb’s Hotel after March 1872’ – View of Bay Street from the Sugar Works. William Archibald Paterson 1872, PMH&PS Collection 4. ‘File note on Dr Candiottis application for Coroner Inglewood’ – VPRS 266 Inward Correspondence to Attorney-General/Law Dept. Unit 33, No. 5810 5. ‘Dr Candiottis application for Coroner Redbank’ – VPRS 266 Inward Correspondence to the Attorney-General/Law Dept. Unit 33, Nos. 1373 and 1787 6. ‘Clermont Hospital 1876’ – Murray Family Pictorial Material. Mitchell Library NSW. PXE 1635 7. ‘Greek George’ – Dr John Theodore Hatzopoulos (1894, November 27). 311

Sportsman (Melbourne, Vic.), p. 2. Retrieved July 15, 2020, from http://nla.gov. au/nla.news-article227724694 8. ‘A Greek Heroine’ – (1897, May 6). The Australian Star (Sydney, NSW), p. 5. Retrieved July 16, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article227209198 9. ‘Garnet Warren cartoon’ – (1897, June 5). The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld.), p. 1235. Retrieved August 1, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.newsarticle24466760 10. ‘When Greek Meets Greek’ – (1898, June 30). Melbourne Punch (Vic), p. 2. Retrieved July 15, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-page21092582 11. ‘Rev. Father Seraphim Phocas’ – Sydney Greek Orthodox Church. (1899, June 10). Australian Town and Country Journal (Sydney, NSW), p. 36. Retrieved July 20, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article71329242 12. Sydney Greek Orthodox Church. (1899, June 10). Australian Town and Country Journal (Sydney, NSW : 1870 – 1907), p. 35. Retrieved July 16, 2020, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article71329242

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Index Atkin, Robert 212–14 Australian Ladies College 109

Aaron, Ellen 80–81 Aborigines 4–5, 33, 35, 41, 53–6, 58, 61–2, 87–9, 94–105, 110–11, 119, 170, 174, 188–9, 211, 239, 247–9 Adams, James 177 Afghans 40–2 Aghia Sophia 85 Ah Hing 231 Ah Shee 231 Albert Hotel 140 Albinia Downs Station 98, 101 Albury 51 Alceste 10 Alexakis, Effie 245 Alexandra 36 Alexandria 10, 72, 82 Algeria 210–11 Alipore 146, 148 All Nations Reef 29 Allen, William 70 Allison, Michael 122 Alma, trooper 91–2 Amelia Breillat 26 Amherst 156–7 Anderson, Mr 116 Anti-Chinese League 40 Anti-Pauper Alien League 40, 50 Ararat 150, 155–6, 166 Archer’s Scrub 88–9, 91 Argyle 76 Arsenios, Khristoforos 124, 210 Aspromonte 43 Athelstane Range 92 Athens 2, 4, 16, 26, 46–7, 81, 118, 168

Babbit, Henry 93–4 Back Creek 148, 156–7, 159–62 Baker, David 96 Baker, J. T. 86 Balclutha 169 Baldock, Emma 29 Ballarat 78, 124–5, 148–9, 161 Ballingarry 15 Barr Creek Hotel 145 Barry, Justice Redmond 133, 140, 158 Bathurst 21, 23, 29 Bauhinia Downs Station 100 Bay Street 121, 127–8 Bay View Hotel 134 Beach Street 128 Belinda 251 Bell, John 134 Ben Bolt 54 Bendigo (Sandhurst) 32, 78, 124, 141, 143–5, 149, 192 Bener, Clara 80–1 Bennelong 4–5 Benson, Dr John 213–15, 217, 220–1, 225 Black Friar 73 Blayney 31 Bligh, John O’Connell 100, 103–06, 108, 123 Blundell 20 Bologna 147 ‘Bonnie Dundee’ 107

313

Callaghan, Dr William 170–4 Calliangal 91, 93–4 Candiotte 32, 236–41 Candiottis Reef 222 Candiottis, Arethusa 156, 164 Candiottis, Emma 126, 148–50, 156, 164, 166, 168–9, 174, 193, 195, 227, 231, 241, 243 Candiottis, Eugenie Penelope 149, 166, 169, 174, 193–5, 200, 223 Candiottis, Spiridion 32, 103, 126, 146–9, 156, 164, 166, 169, 174, 187, 195–6, 210, 227, 231, 241–3 Canoona goldfield 86–7, 176, 183 Canton Inn 234 Canvas Town 146–7 Capari, Penelope 81 Cape Capricorn 169, 194 Cape Conway 53 Cape York 35, 106 Capella 220, 235 ‘Carbine’ 256 Castle Hill 249–51, 253 Castlemaine 141, 158–9, 163 Cathay 145 Cave, William 98, 100, 104, 180–1, 183 central goldfields (VIC) 33, 124, 141, 148 Chambers, Mr 102, 105–06, 111 Charters Towers 35 Chinese 19, 29, 40, 42–3, 112, 156, 179, 208, 220, 231–2 Chios 70–2 Christophers 124 Christophoros 124–6, 209–10 Chuppa, G. G. 24 Chusan 121 Chusan Hotel 121–31, 133–6, 138–40, 142 Cingalese 40 Circassian 78 Cleopatra Reef 26

Booker, Joseph 148 Booker, Joseph Jr. 148, 166, 169, 174, 193, 195, 223, 243 Boonwurrung 119 Bourke 41 Bourke, Sergeant 91 Bow Street 63–5, 67–8, 79 Bowen 35–6, 53 Bowen, Sir George 58, 83–4, 86, 89–90, 93, 95, 103, 106–07, 126, 183, 209–10 Bowen, Lady Diamantina 86, 103, 106–07 Bowen, Matthew 161–2 Braithwaite, George 134 Braithwaite, John 134 Bransby, Mrs 109 Breadalbane 83 Bremer 83 Briggs, Fanny 87–91, 94, 110 Brisbane 5, 21, 36, 49, 58, 83, 96, 106, 108, 169, 183, 192, 205, 209, 220–1, 229, 231–2, 241 British Museum 63, 65–7, 69, 246 Broadsound 54, 182 Buckland’s Tableland 103 Bulgaris, Ghikas ‘Bulgary Jigger’ 11 Bunya Mountains 103 Burke, Robert O’Hara 158 Burnett, Graham 188 Bush Inn 86 Buzacott, Charles 179–81, 185–8, 190– 1, 194–7, 199–211, 213–16, 218, 220–1, 241, 243–4 Buzacott, William 98, 169, 179–80, 201–02 Buzacott’s Perch 221, 234 Byerley, Frederick 54–7 Byron 6–8 Cahill, Patrick 207–08 Cairns 33–4 Caldwell, Joseph 73–5

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Cullingford, Walter 144 Cullodi, George 157 Cumberland Islands 53 currants 37, 84, 220 Cyprus 37–8

Clermont 103, 126, 174–83, 185–7, 190–7, 199, 201–15, 217–22, 224–9, 231–4, 241–4 Clermont hospital 178, 182, 197, 213, 217, 231–2 Clermont racecourse 181 Cockatoo Island 81 Cockermouth Island 35 Cockle, Sir James 189 Cohen’s Commercial Hotel 167 Colandres, Peter 177 Coliban River 141 Colonial Secretary 11, 60, 62, 88, 92, 97, 100, 104–05, 191 Comet River 104 Commercial Hotel 134 Con the Greek see Constantine, Peter Constantine, Peter ‘Con the Greek’ 31 Cooktown 35, 239, 241 Cooper and Levey 252 Cope, Justice 137 Copperfield 175, 182, 192, 206, 216, 221, 224, 226, 228, 230, 232 Corfu 15, 26, 82–3, 85–6, 124, 147–8, 167, 176, 178, 209, 243, 252–3 Corfu Reef 26–9 Corfu, Spiro 26, 29, 31, 157 Coron 85 Coroner at Redbank 165 Corsicans 38 Coster, Nicholas 20 Cotherstone 220 Crabtree, Timothy 5 Cranbourne 114–15 Crete 48, 70 Crimean War 2, 16, 183, 209 Critchmond, William 230 Crowlands 156 Cruikshank, William 130 Crusoe Gully 141–5 Crusos, Achilles 120 Cullin-la-ringo Station 95, 97–101, 110

‘Dagoes’ 3, 38–9 Daisy Hill 156 Dalby 93 Dalrymple, George 59–62 Damke, Leo 230, 233 Dardanelles 85 Darley, John 92 Darling Downs 93, 146, 225 Davis, Alfred 39 Davis, William 39 Dawes, Nathaniel 243 Dawson River 90–1, 100, 103 Daylesford 159 de Satge, Oscar 103, 175–6, 183, 191–3, 203, 206, 209, 213–16, 221–2, 243 Dee River 91 Demas, ‘Honest John’ 29 Demetrius, George 36 deserters 19, 105 ‘Despicable Greek’ 45 Dick, Colin 123 Dickens, Charles 64 Dictation Test 50 disperse 100, 181 Dorset 69, 246 Doubleday, John 64, 67 Duke of Roxburgh 248 Duke of Sparta 50 Dunolly 27, 33, 148–50 Dural 251 Dutton, Charles 100–01 El Dorado 18, 78 Elgin, Lord 4 Ellida 53–9, 62

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Gipps, George 99 Gladstone 90, 171, 173 Goding, Thomas G. 123–4 Goiga, Alexandre 158–9 Golden Age Hotel 149, 154 goldfields 2, 19, 21–3, 26, 29, 31–3, 36, 53, 78–9, 117, 119, 124, 141–2, 148–9, 153, 156–9, 166, 176, 179, 185, 193, 206, 209, 242 Gordon Downs 192–3 Gorey, Elizabeth 11 Gorman, John 157 Gould, William B. 76 Gracemere 87 Graham, C. J. 227 Graham, Sergeant 95 Grampian Range 149 Grecian Bend 31 Grecian Gully 26 Greece, George 246–7 Greece, Georgina 246–7 Greek Catholic 253; Church 6, 70, 124–6, 253; colonists 49; Committee 8, 70; Consul 42, 48–9, 51; flag 26, 83, 157, 178; hubris 47; Kingdom 15; lullaby 46; Orthodox 117, 124, 209; panic 49; Revolution 12, 72, 107; ruffian 45; Town 29; wretchedness 45 Greeks Reef 162 Greek’s Hill 26 Gregory, Augustus 175 Grey, Earl 74 Grey, Sir George 70 Griffin, Thomas John 86, 177, 179, 182–7, 191–2, 194–5, 206–08 Grundy, Mr 115–16 Guildford, Earl of 147 Gulgong 31–2 ‘Gulgong George’ 32, 236–8 Gulliver, trooper 89–94, 111 gypsies 51

Emanuel, George 249–52 Emerald Hill 119, 124, 128, 146–8 Emperor Constantine 50, 85 Endeavour River 106 Epirus 50 Escort Murders 207 Everitt, Thomas 29 Exosi, Emanuel 21 F.C. Clarke 19–20 Falk, David G. 32, 236–7, 241 Field of Mars 251 Field, Charles 64, 66–7 First Fleet 12, 245 Fisher, Dr 152–3 Fitzallan Point 53, 57, 59 Fitzroy Hotel 86, 169 Fitzroy River 62, 169 Flack, Edwin 47 Flerigo, Peter 35 Foam (model yacht) 142, 144 Forbes 167 Forbes, G. E. 191 Forester’s Arms Hotel 117 Fort Emanuele 10 Fox, Charles 63–4, 66–8 Frank, Nicholas 23 Freemason’s Hotel 143–5 Fyfe, Alexander 97 Gaden, Edward 188–9 Galatea 126, 128 Gallant, Thomas 14, 22 Garalas, Demetrius 22 Geelong 124 Genatas, Eugenios 82–8, 91–3, 95–6, 98, 100–11, 176 Gennatas, Ioannis 85 ‘George the Greek’ see Tornor, George George, Stephen 33–4 Gilchrist, Hugh 29, 245–6

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James Paterson 193, 195 Janiszewski, Leonard 245 Jardine, John 62, 65, 67, 95–6, 98, 171, 174 Jeddo 82 Jeresshy, Theodore 33 Johnson, Andrew 21, 34 Johnson, Cadet 95–6, 132 Jones, Margaret 159–60 Judge, Anne 234–6

Halfway 27–8 Happy Home Hotel 118, 120–1 Hard Hill 159 Harding, Justice 235–6 Hare, Frank 160 Harp of Erin Hotel 165 Harricks, Dr 228 hawkers 40–1 ‘Hawkeye’ 42–4 Head, Edith 49 Hellas Reef 26, 157 Hellenic Army 48 Hely, Frederick 11 Hendy, Sergeant 102–03 Henri, Alexander 157 Herakles 10–11 Herbert, Robert 88, 92, 97, 100 Herberton 34 Hercules 6 Hill End 29–30 Hobart 9, 21, 25, 73, 75–6, 78, 80–1, 252 Hobson’s Bay 19, 82, 113, 118, 124, 126, 128–9, 146 Hogg, Frank 123 Howe, George 4, 6 Howe, Robert 6 Hydra 10–11, 29 Hymn to Liberty 107

Kanakas 40 Kandiottis, Konstantine 147 Karro 43–4 Katoomba 232 Kefalonia 2, 6, 14–15, 29, 85 Kennedy District 62, 90 Kenny, Edward 95 Keppel Bay 169, 194 Kerang 143–5 Kerr, William 14, 16 Keys, Constable 123 Kiama 126 Kiandra 22 Kinchela, John 252 King George III 5 King George’s Sound 82 King of Greece, George I 178 King Otho 15–16 Kingdom of Greece 15, 19, 147 Kingower 163–4 Kirwan, James 252 Kitchel, Julius 189 Knight, Nicholas 157 Kolalos, Ioannis 26 Kyriakatis, Spyro 13, 120–1 Kythera 4

Inglewood 29, 162–5 Coroner at Inglewood 164 Inkerman 33 Ionian Academy 147 Ionian Islands 1–2, 6, 13–14, 20, 22, 82, 84–5, 147, 166, 178, 243, 246 Ionian Wine Vaults 120 Irving, Henry 54–62 Isabella IV 246 Isle of Portland 69 Istamboul 21

Lachlan River 167 Lady Bowen 83, 231 Lady Kennaway 73–5

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Macarthur, William 11 Macaulay, Thomas 67 Macedonia 50 Mackenzie River 103–04, 175, 189 Mackenzie, Robert 92 Mack’s Hotel 225 MacLeay, Alexander 11 Madden, Dr 139–40 Magellan, Ferdinand 245 Magna Graecia 63, 69, 81 Maid of Athens 36 Malone, James 39 Malta 4, 10, 37–8 Malvern Downs Station 175, 187, 193–5, 226 Mandurama 31 Maniakis, Alexander 51 Maniakis, Mark 48 Manion, Patrick 96 Manning, A. W. 105–06 Manolis, Andonis 11 Manton, John 176 Manual, George 252–3 Manwell, George 168 Marmara (Prinkipo) 85 Marseille 72, 81 Maryborough (QLD) 90, 103, 179 Maryborough (VIC) 26, 33 Matoeieff, Alexey Frotoff 84, 86 Mauritius 25, 113 Mavrochordatos 71 Mavromatis, Emanuel 39 Mayne, Mr 229–30 Mazzo, Andrew 20 McCulloch, John 134 McDonald, P. F. 96 McDonald, Peter 98 McEwen, Thomas 54–5, 57, 62 McHugh, Thomas 153–5 McLeod, Mr 102 McMaster, Robert 225

Lagochy 139, 142 Lagogiannis, Andreas 112–31, 133–45 Lagogiannis, Athanas 112, 114–15, 118, 129–30 Lagogiannis, Carolina/Caroline 118, 120–4, 128–30, 136, 140, 142, 144–5 Lagogiannis, Christina 112, 117 Lagogiannis, Demetrios 112 Lagogiannis, F. 130 Lagogiannis, Isabella 116–17 Lagogiannis, John G. 145 Lamb, John 139, 220 Lambert, Charles Henry 209, 214, 226 Lambert, Nicholas 29 Landreth, Hugh 170–1, 173 Larissa 49 Laritsos, Georgios 11 Launceston Advertiser 12 Launceston Examiner 79–80 Laval, Charles 208–09, 220 Lee, Nathaniel 5 Legislative Assembly (QLD) 93, 214, 221 Leichhardt Hotel 207, 228, 241–3 Leichhardt, Ludwig 175 Liardet brothers 121 Lillyvale 190, 220 Limberio, Nicholas 33 Liverpool 72, 81 Lloyd, William 118 Logan River 111 Lonergan, Father 187, 204 Long, John 252 Lord Rothschild 16 Lord William Lennox 23 Lowe, George 54–5 Lower Huntly 32 Lucas, Antony 51 Lyons, Mary 11 Macarthur, John 11

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New York 20, 116 Newcastle 20, 252 Newgate Prison 65, 69–70 Newstead Park 115 Newton, Charles 63–5 Ngaro 53, 56–62 Nicholas of Nafplion 245 Nicholas, George 20–1 Ninis, Damianos 11 Niser, Thomas 22 Nogoa River 95, 98, 100–01, 103–04 Norfolk 10, 245 Norfolk Island 74–5 North Australian 58 North Star 35 North, Frederick 147 Northumberland 30 Nott Street 118–19, 121 nullah nullah 58, 97

McNamara, Thomas 160 ‘Mediterranean Irish’ 14 Merriman, Rev. H. 23 Michael of Rhodes 245 Michael Sanchez of Rhodes 245 Micho 88–9 Millar/Miller, Nicholas 52–9, 61–2, 216 Miller’s Point 25 Minnehaha 116 Mirehouse, John 68 Mitchell, Major Thomas 11 Molesworth, Judge 163 Mollard, Jack 175–6 Mollison, Mr (Police Magistrate) 132, 135, 137–9 Mongolian 43–4 Monte Video 24 Montegena 22 Montgomery, Jemmy 191 Moore, John 97 Moorhead, William 100 Moreton Bay 82 Mosquito Flat 26, 33 Mount Athos 124, 209 Moustakas, Demetrios 29–31 Moustakas, Emma 30 Murray River 51, 99 Murray, George P. M. 101, 103, 227 Murray, G. P. 86 Murray, Lt John 86–90, 93 Musgrove, Richard 114–16 Myall Creek 99

Old Bailey 67, 69, 72, 77, 79–80 Orion Downs 211–12 Orthodox Church 3, 117, 252 Orthodox Eastern Church 126 ‘Oscar le Grand’ 103, 192 see also de Satges, Oscar Ottoman Empire 1–2, 6, 19, 48, 50, 70, 72, 85 O’Brien, Henry 134 O’Brien, Stephen 211 O’Shaughnessy, Edward 8–9 Pacifico, Don 2, 16 Pall Mall 143–4 Palmer River goldfield 29 Palmerston 16 Panham, John 20 Papandreou, Nikolaos 11 Papas, George 246–9 Parkes, Sir Henry 50 Parramatta 11, 250–2

Napoleonic Wars 71 Nash, Ann 250–1 Native Mounted Police 57, 59, 83–4, 86, 88, 90–3, 99–100, 103–04, 106, 108–09, 111, 170, 176, 227 New South Wales 18, 22–3, 29, 31, 40–2, 50–3, 99, 103, 166–8, 193, 245–6, 251–2 New South Wales Police 108, 183

319

Parrington, William 251 Passage Island 54 Patras 82, 112, 118, 130, 145 Paulovre, Nicholas 39 Peak Downs 95–6, 100–01, 103–05, 111, 175–80, 183, 189, 191–3, 195, 205, 207, 215, 217, 227, 235, 243 Peak Downs Copper Mining Company 176, 182, 207, 222, 225, 228 Peak Downs Gold Escort 207 Peak Downs Hospital 195, 225, 228, 232 Peak Downs Quartz Crushing Company 213–14, 217 Peak Downs Station 188, 220 Peak Downs Telegram 146, 188, 196, 201, 225, 227, 244 Peak Downs Telegram and Mining Record 179 Peak Range 218 Peel, Sir Robert 66–7 ‘Pegasus’ 47 Peloponnesus 11, 85 Pentecost Island 59 Pentonville Prison 69–70 Phibbs, Charles 95 Phillip of Rhodes 245 Phillip, Arthur 4–5 philoxenia 58 Pholeros, Angelos 42 phyloxera 37 Picton 11 Pier Hotel 134 piracy 9–12, 245–7, 249, 253 Piraeus 14 Pleasant Creek 22, 149–51, 154, 156 Politis, Thomas 117–18, 126 Port Adelaide 25, 39 Port Arthur 77 Port Curtis 87, 90 Port Denison 53, 58–9, 61–2, 106

Port Douglas 36 Port Melbourne 119 Port Phillip 14, 78–9, 128 Porte, the 6, 15 Portsmouth 73, 80 Portuguese 38 Potter, John 32 Powell, Lt Walter 56–9, 61–2, 91, 93–4, 110, 115 Powell, F. T. 86 Power, John 207–08 Prince Alfred 126, 128 Prince Constantine Morusi 6 Prince of Wales Hotel 181, 184 Prinkipo see Marmara Proikonisos 85 Propsting, Henry 76–8 Propsting, Richard 75–9 Protestant 124, 246, 253 Rainworth Station 95, 97 Ralli Brothers 71–2, 81 Randall, Eliza 166 Rangers League of NSW 247 Ray, Dr 229, 232 Redbank 165–6 Reservoir View Hotel 141, 143, 145 Restoration Island 35 revolvers 56, 58, 60–1, 97, 102, 157, 184, 188, 190, 230 Reynolds, William 134 Rhegium 63–4, 69 Richards, Jonathan 109 Rob Roy 20 Robertson, Dr 170–3 Robinson, John 171 Robinson, Peter 218 Rockhampton 53–4, 57–8, 62, 86–95, 97–8, 101, 104–08, 111, 169–71, 174, 176–7, 179–80, 183–4, 189, 192–5, 201, 203, 206–08, 210, 216, 221, 228, 231–5, 241–3

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Spurios, Antonios 26 St Francis’ Church 148 St Lawrence Creek 182 Stamboul, Nicholas 22 Stanhope, Leicester 8 Star Lead 31 Star of Peace 30 Star of Peace 168 Stawell, Sir W. F. 133 Stein, Charles 42 Stewart, Mr 102 Strong, Peter 237–9 Stroumboulis, Konstantinos 11 Swallow, Mr 131–2 Syros 72, 81

Rockhampton Bulletin 97, 177, 179–80, 210, 221, 228, 241 Rockhampton Gaol 86, 208 Rockingham Bay 106 Rodochanachi 71 Rollstone Range 35 Roma, Diamantina see Bowen, Lady Diamantina Royal Hotel 87, 134, 216 Rum Rebellion 103 Ryan, Mary 191 Saint Iago 39 Sam, William 234 Samos 4, 72 Sandeman, Gordon 192, 212 Sanders, Eliza 80–1 Sanders, James 78, 80 Sandhurst see Bendigo Sandridge 118–40 Sandy Creek see Tarnagulla Santa Barbara 59–60 Santry, James 73–4 Savage, Patrick 54–7, 62 Schafer, Elizabeth 157–8 Schilizzi 71, 81 Scott, John 211–12 Seizeani, Socrates 140 Sellheim, Phillip 90 Shaw Island 54–6, 59, 62 Shaw’s Peak 57, 60–1 Shields, Mrs 229 Ship Inn 128, 134 Simmons, Joseph 246 Sinclair, Captain 59, 61 Skardon’s Hotel 106 Smith, James 158 Smith, Martha 231 Spetses 24 Sportsman’s Arms Hotel 184 Springsure 96

Talbot 156 Tambaroora 29, 31 Tarnagulla (Sandy Creek) 26–7, 29, 156, 163, 175–6, 218, 220, 227, 231, 234–5 Tarplee, Emma Maria 148 Taylor, Dr William 223, 225, 227–8 Taylor, Edward 251 Telemacho 24–5 The Peaks 102, 175 The Rocks 52 Themistocles 43 Theodosius 46 Theresa Creek 95, 101–03, 176 Thessaly 51 Thomas, Dr George 119–20 Thornborough 34 Toby, trooper 87, 89–92 Tornor, George 31–2 Totolos, Christy 29 Travers and Sons 193 Travers, Charlotte 193–6 Travers, Roderick 187, 190, 192–3, 195 Travers, Smith 192–3 Trenery 166

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Trieste 70, 72, 75, 81 Trikoupis, Harilaos 37 Tryphena Vale Station 189 Turnbull, Craig 246 Union Bank 27 United States Hotel 123, 128 Uruguay 24 Vagabond 234 Valiotis, Chris Van Diemen’s Land 10, 69, 73, 76–7, 79–80, 246 Vasilakis, Georgios 11 Victoria 232, 245 Vienna 13, 65, 68, 70, 75 Vigors, Phillip. D. 80–1 Villier, Themis 117 Vlastano 71 Vlasto, John 70 Vlasto, Michel Pandely 81 Vlasto, Pandely 70 Vlasto, Timoleon 63–70, 72–3, 75, 77–81, 246 Vlastoudika 71 von Probstein, Ferdinand 77 Vrakhliotti, Penelope 147 Vyner, Mrs 109

Wigley, Mr. 129 Wildie, George 185–7 Williams, E. G. 59, 61, 86, 100, 104 Williams, Spyro see Kyriakatis, Spyro Wills, Horatio 95–8, 100, 104 Wills, Tom 97 Wilmot, C. Eardly 164 Wilson, Rev. Samuel 10 Wimmera 149, 153 Winter, John 175, 181, 187, 206, 214, 220, 226 Wolfang Station 103, 175, 192, 209, 218, 220, 233 Wonga Wonga 82, 129–30 Woodhouse, William 181, 205 Yarra Yarra 82, 108 Ydra 25 Yung Wan 220 Zacchero, Alexander 19–20 Zakynthos 13, 120

Walsh, Rev. William Horatio 80 Wardell, Robert 7 Warpahs 101 Washington Irving 20 Watt, John Alexander 87 Wellington 11 Wentworth, William 4, 7 Western Port 114–15 Whirlwind 20–1 Whitehall 48 Whitsunday Islands 53, 56–9 Wichmann, Frederick 182, 184

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Wild Colonial Greeks is an engaging account of the Greeks who landed on Australian shores in colonial times. It shows how Greeks were viewed by the mainstream press and chronicles their fortunes in a foreign land. The book brings to life men like the goldfields doctor Spiridion Candiottis, who clashed resoundingly

Wild Colonial Greeks

with newspapermen in Victoria and Queensland, and the hotelier Andreas Lagogiannis, who fought in vain against the forces of authority and temperance in 19th century Melbourne. This book also tells the little-known stories of Greeks whose lives were ended by Aboriginal spears and nullah nullahs on the frontiers of settlement, of the diaspora Greek transported to Van Diemen’s Land for robbing the British Museum, and of the young Ionian who served for two eventful years with the Native Mounted Police of Queensland. This intriguing contribution to Australian history pushes back the date of Greek settlement by a number of years.

Peter Prineas