The Ogilvies - a dynasty under strain

Unlikely friendship: The English poet Robert Browning was a friend of the Clarence River squatter Edward Ogilvie and his daughters, his beloved Octet. This, the nineth in a series on growing up on the Northern or New England Tablelands, continues the story of writer Judith Wallace.    

London, May 1888. “My dear Eight”, the English poet Robert Browning wrote to the Ogilvie girls: “what a peculiar as well as pleasant privilege it is, to love each one of you as if there were eight of you to love and the whole eight as if they were one and indivisible”.

Browning was then 76 and would die the following year. His friendship with the Clarence River squatter Edward Ogilvie and his family was an unlikely one. I think Browning liked their freshness and lack of cant.

The family was breaking up, although that was not immediately clear. Edward was lonely following the death of his wife and had become demanding. He also felt that his sons were growing away from him, becoming absorbed into English life.

The girls would soon escape into marriage. For the boys’ part, Edward considered that it was time that eldest William took over his dynastic responsibilities.

Edward recognised that William would need to learn the ropes after such a long time in England. He was therefore sent home to Yulgilbar to be mentored under manager William Penrose.

Soon after arriving in Australia, William married Ethel Mylne, Graham Mylne’s daughter from nearby Eatonswill. The two families had always been close, connected by proximity, shared experience and marriage. 

Tensions soon arose between William Penrose and William Ogilvie.

Father Edward was showing no signs of returning and had rented a house in his beloved Florence. Penrose continued living in the big house and would cede little responsibility to William Ogilvie, treating Yulgilbar as his own.

William also felt that Penrose was using Yulgilbar to build his own stock at Yulgibar’s expense. Finally, a frustrated William wrote to his father to deliver an ultimatum.

“I will give up my claim to Yulgilbar”, he told his father, “if you will lend me £2,000 to buy a place of my own.” Far away in Europe, Edward agreed.

It would be a permanent break. When Edward finally came to make dynastic choices, Yulgilbar would go to daughter Mabel. It was made clear to her husband, Charles Lillingston, that he must throw himself into the place, but that it could never be his.

Lillingston, a successful man in his own right, was reluctant but finally agreed. The resulting discussions created significant tensions within the family, making the break with William permanent.

For his part, William had already purchased Ilparran, a property west of Glen Innes. It was this property that William’s granddaughter Judith Wallace would immortalise in Memories of a Country Childhood.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 22 August 2018. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015, here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018 .

In pursuit of a dynasty

Great success: Tom Robert's painting of squatter Edward Ogilvie. Ogilvie staked out land on both sides of the Clarence River seeking to build a dynasty.This, the eighth in a series on growing up on the Northern or New England Tablelands, introduces the story of Judith Wallace.   

Academic and writer Judith Wallace’s great great grandfather, Edward Ogilvie, was an ambitious man. He wished to found a dynasty. He was to achieve great success, but his own personality brought a key plank undone.

Edward’s remarkable story was told by George Farwell in Squatter's Castle: The saga of a pastoral dynasty (1983). Here I can do no more than sketch a few details to set the scene for later events.

Edward was born at Tottenham, Middlesex, on 25 July 1814, the son of naval officer William and his wife Mary.

In 1824, William and Mary decided to emigrate to NSW, arriving in January 1825. William was given a land grant of 2,000 acres in the Upper Hunter which he named Merton after the English village they had been home.

The Ogilvies were undercapitalised and initially struggled. The children were home schooled by Mary and actively involved from an early age in farm work.

In 1846 Edward and brother Frederick along with an Aboriginal companion went north looking for new land.

Escaped convict Richard Craig had discovered a large river, the Clarence, while living with the Aborigines. Now he was leading a large party from Falconer’s Plains near Guyra down to the Clarence. 

The Ogilvies asked to join the party. Denied, they pushed on as fast as possible and reached the Clarence at Tabulum ahead of Craig. Downstream Edward took up fifty-six miles (90 km) on both sides of the river and later named the runs Yulgilbar. By 1850 Yulgilbar was about 300 sq. miles (777 km²) and included Fairfield, a 100,000-acre (40,469 ha) cattle station in the mountains.

With the family fortunes now established, Edward sailed for Europe in August 1854, traveling widely across the continent. Florence became his favourite city, a love that would stay with him.

While in Europe Edward met and in 1858 married Theodosia de Burgh. Returning to Australia in 1859, he built a palatial home for his new wife that would become known as Yulgilbah castle. In 1862 a first son, William Frederick, was born.

At twelve, William was sent to school in the United Kingdom and seems to have stayed there until finishing at Balliol College Oxford.

In late 1884, Edward returned to England with his wife and daughters for another extended visit, joining his two sons. It was the last time the whole family would be together.

Edward had always been a dominant personality. Now he was becoming irascible and over-controlling. The scene was set for events that would throw his dynastic plans into chaos. 

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 15 August 2018. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015, here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018 .

The rhythms of our lives - influence of church on young lives

Tennis party: Armidale social life in the 1930s. Photo is from the Drummond family collection.This is the seventh in a series on growing up on the Northern or New England Tablelands.

The rhythms of our lives proceed in stages linked to age: childhood, school, beginning work, family formation. While these rhythms are linked to age, their exact pattern varies over time and space and is affected by individual circumstance.

"The nineteenth and first part of the twentieth century, the church you attended or were affiliated with had a major influence on childhood and young adult life."

 Australian society today has become increasingly secular. By contrast, over the nineteenth and first part of the twentieth century, the church you attended or were affiliated to had a major influence on childhood and young adult life.

The big sectarian divide was between Catholic and Protestant, although there were divides among the Protestant churches too. 

At St Ursula’s in Armidale, the nuns wanted their girls to marry good Catholic boys and bring up good Catholic children. Mixing with other boys was discouraged.

In similar vein, Judith Wright noted somewhat acerbically that some parents sent their girls to the New England Girls School in the belief that they might find a suitable husband from among the boys at The Armidale School. It was a marriage market. Mixing with Catholic boys was not encouraged.

While important, the religious divide was not universal. Cooperation did occur and indeed was necessary in small communities. There is very little evidence of religious divides in Maslyn Williams’ descriptions of community life in Tenterfield.

However, one thing that stands out from Judith’s writing is just how little contact she had with people outside her family and immediate circle. The girls at NEGS came from the same group.

When cousin Tina introduced her into social life, it involved the social round of the Bachelors and Spinsters, Matrons, Races and TAS/NEGS old boys/old girls balls. There are no references to people or life beyond this other than some people on or linked to the property or rare visits to Armidale for particular purposes.

This contrasts with Binks Turnbull Dowling’ memories. She, too, was sent to boarding school, in this case the Hilton House School. Today we know the school as PLC Armidale, but it was then owned by its principle, Miss Alethea Tendall.

There are similarities in the description of school life at the two institutions, something that is a story in its own right, but Hilton was in town and less cloistered than the more remote NEGS.

Binks had relatives and friends in Armidale and we get descriptions of a social life that contained some similar elements to that of Judith but which was more town centered and far more varied. Indeed, any older Armidale resident who reads Binks’ book will instantly recognise names and places.

Next week I will introduce our fourth character, the writer Judith Wallace, a member of another pastoral dynasty, the Ogilvie family. Her story provides a counterpoint to that of Judith Wright. 

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 8 August 2018. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015, here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018 .

Life and times of Binks Turnbull Dowling

Water houses, Papua. Binks Dowling's father became a popular Australian writer on Papua New Guinea in the 1920s and early 1930s. This is the sixth in a series on growing up on the Northern or New England Tablelands.

Today’s column introduces a third character, Binks Turnbull Dowling, into our continuing story of coming of age on the New England. Each character is different, their lives take us in sometimes unexpected directions, but between them they reveal something of the depth and complexity of our shared history.

Binks Turnbull Dowling was born in Papua in 1923, the daughter of English born Gilbert Munro Turnbull and Jean Doris Winn. Jean was part of a totally different extended Turnbull family headquartered at Kotupna, a large station in the Fall country to the east of Armidale.

Gilbert trained as an architect and in 1920 became Government Architect in Papua. He was an adventurous man and a considerable writer.

Often writing under the pseudonym Tauwarra (Motu for fighting-man), Gilbert published numerous short pieces and articles, at least 90 short stories and four novels.

The couple met when Gilbert was visiting Australia and married in the Presbyterian Manse in Armidale on 31 August 1921. Initially the marriage seems to have been happy enough, although they were very different characters.

In 1928’ the couple decided to send Binks to stay with the Turnbulls on Kotupna. Later, mother Jean decided to return to Kotupna, leaving Gilbert in Papua. While the couple remained married, they never reunited. Gilbert retired to Urunga in 1934 and died four years later at just 48.

In 1997, Binks’ children persuaded her to write and publish an autobiographical memoir, For crying out loud. It’s a good if sometimes confusing read.

The book is broken into overlapping chronological segments. These explore and describe Binks’ life up to her marriage.

The book is also an examination of her parents, their personalities and the complexities of relationship, seeking to understand. It is dedicated to the father that she greatly loved, a father she rarely saw after she was sent to Kotupna, a father who died when she was fifteen.

It is not a sad book, but there are sad elements that made me uncomfortable, a reminder of the uncertainties and complexities of life. Apart from the story of her parents, I wondered about the inarticulate nature of the Turnbull men, about the break-ups and relationship failures. Sometimes, it seemed to me that Kotupna had become a devouring beast.

I know that members of the Turnbull family would probably not share that perception.

When Binks asked her mother years later why she stayed at Kotupna, Jean looked at her strangely and said simply “But I was happy”. The love they all had for Kotupna, Binks is no exception, shines through.

Next week, I will look at some of the elements in Binks’ life comparing them to other characters in our story

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 1 August 2018. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015, here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018 .

The poetry and the passion: Judith Wright's Moving Images

Cresting the Moonbi range in 1942, Judith Wright's love of the New England, "my country", suddenly crystallised. The 1946 result was The Moving Image, her first book of poems.This, the fifth in a series on growing up on the Northern or New England Tablelands, is the second on poet and writer Judith Wright

In 1946, the 31 year old Judith Wright published her first book of poetry, The Moving Image. Dedicated to the father she loved and who loved her, the book is one of the masterpieces of New England literature.

The poems cover many of the themes for which she would later become well known including love of the environment and awareness of Aboriginal dispossession, but most are local poems that will be instantly familiar to anybody who knows the New England Tablelands. They reflect a love of country, a sense of passionate identify.

This long felt love had suddenly crystalised in 1942.

Judith had been working in Sydney. Most men were now away at the war, while her father was leading civil defence planning to evacuate people and livestock from the coast in the event of Japanese invasion.

After pressure from Judith, her father agreed that she should come home to help on the property. Topping the Moonbi Range, Judith was suddenly aware, struck, that she had entered her country.

She had long known that she would be a poet.

After her mother’s death in 1927, the twelve year old Judith had tried to adopt the role of Norah from the Billabong series, books that she loved. She became fiercely protective of her brothers and tried to look after her father. She was also struggling with the stresses of early puberty.

When he father  remarried, Judith and her new step mother clashed. It was decided that Judith and her cousin Tina should go to NEGS, the New England Girls' School, as boarders.

Unlike the slim Tina, the bespectacled Judith was bookish, spotty, bulgy and uncertain. She was not sure what to expect, but knew that she would always second. She consoled herself with the love of poetry and the knowledge that she would become a poet.

At NEGS, Judith decided that she would like to go to the University of Sydney, but her plans were thrown awry by the second of two serious accidents.

In the first, she was thrown from a horse and broke her arm. It was set wrongly and had to be broken and reset.

The second accident was far worse. Her horse fell, leading to very serious injuries. She was carried by stretched to the homestead, driven to Armidale and then sent to Sydney by train for surgery and rehabilitation.

It had been an agonising experience, one that had also put paid to any idea of matriculation. But not all was lost.

I will continue my story next week, also introducing our third character in our growing up on the New England series.

 Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 25 July 2018. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015, here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018