Betsy and the Emperor

by Anne Whitehead

  The Balcombes made a wearisome journey of five days and four nights, stopping at roadside inns, to visit their land at Bungonia; William and his eldest son rode, and Betsy drove her mother in their new two-horse gig. At their land grant, they found green grassland after the winter rains, verdant along the banks of the watercourse, and copses of wattle and eucalypts. A recently established farm, ‘Inverary Park’, adjoined theirs, and Balcombe introduced himself and his family to their new neighbour, Dr David Reid. He was a former naval surgeon from Aberdeen, Scotland, who had served at Trafalgar on the Bellerophon. Balcombe had always enjoyed the companionship of naval men, and a friendship was quickly established and hospitality offered by Reid and his wife Agnes. The Balcombes learned that Reid had been a surgeon-superintendent on convict ships, had decided to settle in New South Wales in 1822, and that it was only a few months earlier that he and his wife and children had moved to the new farmhouse they had built on their property. They already had some land under cultivation, worked by convicts assigned to them. It was the beginning of a warm and lifelong friendship between the two families, which would be bonded in the next generation by marriage.

  Dr Reid would have warned the Balcombes to watch out on their return journey for bushrangers—escaped convicts who adopted the practice of highwaymen.19 He may also have mentioned that the Aboriginal people of the district were disaffected, but he probably did not comprehend how much their traditional hunting grounds were being displaced by the new farms. Sheep and cattle were taking over the grasslands formerly cropped by kangaroos.

  On 18 June, Brisbane had sent a despatch to Lord Bathurst, informing him that seven stock-keepers in the Bathurst region had been murdered by Aboriginals ‘in the most cruel and barbarous manner’. He therefore sought his lordship’s permission ‘to raise a Troop of Colonial Cavalry’ to keep in check the Aboriginals, ‘against whom Infantry have no chance of success’, nor the police.20 This resulted two months later in a declaration of martial law in regions west of the highest point of the Blue Mountains. Beyond that boundary, soldiers, settlers and even convicts could legally take up arms against the Aboriginal people.21

  On 15 July, the ship Alfred arrived in Sydney from London, having called on the way at Madeira and Hobart Town. Among the passengers were some who intended to cause ructions and would change the way of life in New South Wales forever.

  Foremost among them were two barristers at law, Robert Wardell and William Charles Wentworth. The editor of the Sydney Gazette, Robert Howe, made the dry observation: ‘We have no occasion to announce the latter Gentleman to be, by birth, an Australian—such being old news.’22 These two men would soon give the government-supported Gazette some competition in the newspaper business and put Governor Brisbane on his mettle, attempting to reform the way the colony was governed. That was the avowed aim of the Sydney-born Wentworth, a tall rangy man with a shock of red hair, already famous in the colony for having pioneered the crossing of the Blue Mountains when he was just 23 with his friends William Lawson and Gregory Blaxland, a few servants, horses and dogs. (The Aboriginal people had known how to cross for generations but had not been consulted.)

  Six years later, Wentworth had published a book A Statistical, Historical and Political Description of the Colony of New South Wales, outlining his views on how the colony of New South Wales should be run. These opinions were vehemently opposed by John Macarthur: ‘Anything in the shape of a Legislative Assembly in the present condition of our society . . . would seal the destruction of every respectable person here.’23

  Before his departure for England to qualify to practise as a barrister, Wentworth, son of police superintendent D’Arcy Wentworth by a convict woman, Catherine Crowley, had pressed for the institution of representative government—as had been conceded to the British colony of Canada in 1791—and trial by a civil jury, as advised in the Bigge report. However, these issues had not been advanced.

  Now, the audacious Wentworth had returned. With a good legal degree behind him, an understanding of the British Constitution, and praise from Cambridge dons for his poem ‘Australasia’ (prophesying ‘A new Britannia in another world’), he saw himself as ‘the instrument of procuring a free constitution for my country’.24 But the loss of freedom for the indigenous inhabitants was never his concern.

  Wentworth’s colleague Robert Wardell, an Englishman, had met him at Cambridge and been inspired by his vision of an independent future for New South Wales. He had qualified at the London Bar two years earlier than his friend and applied for the new office of attorney-general in the colony, but lost out to Bannister. He had now arrived with his mother with the intention of practising law with Wentworth. As it turned out, their first case was to be a suit against the owner of the ship Alfred for subjecting them to ‘a wet and comfortless cabin’ and denying ‘sufficient nourishment and refreshments’ on the voyage. They would be successful, awarded damages and costs.25

  Other significant passengers arriving on the Alfred were John Mackaness, a 54-year-old barrister with some radical liberal views, appointed the new sheriff for the colony, and Dr William Redfern, a former naval surgeon, who had earlier been convicted of encouraging a seamen’s mutiny at the Nore (a naval anchorage in the Thames estuary), and in 1801 had been transported to New South Wales. There his medical skills were recognised and he received a conditional pardon and became a friend and family doctor to Governor Macquarie. He rose to be surgeon and acting supervisor at the new Sydney hospital, the first teacher of Australian medical students, and he instituted important reforms for the health of convicts on transport ships that saved many lives. Redfern was returning from London to his Sydney home.

  These were remarkable personalities to have found themselves on the same vessel; all being of a liberal or radical persuasion, they must have enjoyed lively political discussions over meals, mapping plans for their own futures and that of the colony during the long, comfortless voyage.

  However, it would not have been any of their names that caught the attention of Betsy and her parents in the Sydney Gazette, but that of another arriving passenger: ‘E. Abell, Esq.’ They must have thought it was a mistake or coincidence, that it could not possibly be Betsy’s scoundrel of a husband. They would have known by then that there was an Abell family in Van Diemen’s Land of convict origin, but those people were by definition excluded from the gentlemanly label ‘Esquire’.

  It was indeed Betsy’s husband, an officer and no gentleman, but with sufficient connections to pass as one. He had come to Sydney to seek her out. We have only Betsy’s account of his visit. On 10 August, she wrote an impassioned, pleading letter once again to the distinguished Major-General Sir Henry Torrens, Commander-in-Chief of the British army, based at the Horse Guards:

  Dear and most honoured Sir,

  Since I had the pleasure of addressing a letter to you I have been shocked and annoyed by Mr Abell’s appearance in this colony. He arrived here in a ship named the Alfred intending to proceed against my Father for keeping his Wife from him but very fortunately his intentions were frustrated by a Bond being produced of his for £4000 belonging to a notorious swindler by the name of Patterson who died here about a year and half ago he was transported to this place for forging Notes and it was strongly suspected poisoning his patients. The persons who administrated to his Will found among other papers this Bond of Mr Abell’s. It happened most fortunately for Abell that the very vessel which brought Patterson to this place was underweigh for Van Diemen’s Land and he without further delay got on Board. Before he embarked he called on my Father’s Attorney and made a most extraordinary confession of villainies which he had practised since the age of 15 till now. The only crime he would not accuse himself of (unfortunately for me) was a prior marriage. That he strictly denied but said he was quite as anxious to get it annuled as I could possibly be. He had a confession to make which when he arrived at the Derwent [in Van Diemen’s Land] he should wish to do to any confidential friend of my Father’s which would c
hill the blood of those who heard it with horror. I am anxiously expecting to hear this communication. No tongue can tell the atrocities he has practised and the shocking character he bears. He owned having robbed Papa & said he took my jewels merely that they might be in a place of safety.

  I think he is the most dreadful character of low measure heard of. He said he never had any affection for me that he merely married under the hope of gaining something good thru my Father and his exalted interests.

  I fear that I am intruding too much on your patience but indeed it is such a gratification and delight to be writing to you who have been so very very kind to me when friendless and deserted by my Husband that I can never think of your benevolence without the acutest emotions of gratitude. I have taken the liberty to send two of the Pheasants of this country and as they are esteemed as curious I trust Lady Torrens will do further favour to accept them. I should feel much honoured indeed. My Father and Brother beg to offer their respectful compliments to Lady Torrens & yourself and I trust you will believe me to be,

  Most Gratefully & Truly obliged,

  L.E. Abell

  P.S. Would it be presuming too far on your friendship was I to beg of you to intercede for a Grant of Land for myself and child as it would be a certain independence for her when she becomes of age. The Governor told me if in his power he would give it immediately but it was not customary to grant land to Females or Children but if I had any Friend in England who would ask Sir Wilmot Horton it should be done immediately upon my getting the order. Will you be that kind Friend to me respected Sir. I humbly request this favor as it would be a certain independence for my dear little Girl. As for me I have nothing to hope for deserted as I am by my Husband and thereby out of favor for any future prospect of bettering my condition.

  My Father’s health is very precarious caused by the violent attacks he has of Gout. He has promised if I succeed in Getting Land to stock it for me. I entreat you and your wife forgive me for beseeching this but if I have erred I implore forgiveness for my presumption and trusting Heaven will shower down its blessings on yourself and Family, I beg to succeed by your assistance.

  Your Gratefully Obliged and humble servant,

  L.E. Abell26

  Edward Abell had obviously learned of Balcombe’s new position as colonial treasurer and imagined it was a lucrative one. The posting was announced in British newspapers and much colonial news was relayed in Madras papers. He would have thought that Betsy was likely now to have money also; if she had acquired a land grant, he was legally entitled to it as her husband. He must have expected sufficient advantage in coming to Sydney to more than pay for his ship’s passage.

  Lawrence Stone in Road to Divorce: England 1530–1987 outlines the appalling position for a deserted wife in the early nineteenth century, totally at the mercy of her husband: ‘He retained the right to all his wife’s earnings during her life, “every farthing she makes by her labour being his, because she is his wife, though separated.”’ He noted that there were ‘many cases on record of an estranged husband swooping down, sometimes years or decades after the separation, seizing or selling all his wife’s goods and chattels, taking all her savings, and disappearing again. And he was legally within his rights to do so.’27

  Betsy’s letter is too disjointed and emotional to make much sense of what happened when Abell arrived, but there are enough clues to suggest one scenario. It seems he may have confronted Balcombe and demanded to see Betsy and to claim whatever assets she had as his legal entitlement. This would naturally have enraged Balcombe, but he must have controlled his temper sufficiently to make a suggestion very much in his daughter’s interests. He would have indicated that Abell was mistaken if he thought that Betsy owned land; there was a ruling against single women and deserted wives doing so. And instead of a stick, Balcombe may have offered a carrot—that he would be willing to pay Abell a certain amount of money if he would agree to liberate his daughter from the marriage. As mentioned, divorce, because of its high cost and requirement of an Act of Parliament, was out of the question.28 But if Abell would admit that he had a previous marriage—perhaps in India—an annulment would be possible. It is clear from Betsy’s letter that Abell hotly denied ‘a prior marriage’ (as he would, knowing that bigamy incurred a seven-year sentence) but said that he was as anxious to have the marriage annulled as she was.

  So Balcombe may have suggested the only realistic alternative, a private separation, which required a deed of agreement to be signed by both parties in front of an attorney or conveyancer. It would give both of them independence and enable each to marry again in a way that would be broadly acceptable to society.29 That something very like this was proposed is evidenced by the fact that Abell did have a meeting with Balcombe’s attorney, and there is no other reasonable explanation as to why he would do so. But the meeting clearly did not go well. If Balcombe offered a sum as an inducement to sign the deed, perhaps that sum was not sufficient. Or the attorney may have pushed too far—often with a deed of private separation an attorney or conveyancer asked for a maintenance allowance for the wife and any children; Stone notes that ‘in the nineteenth century this usually came to about a third of the husband’s net income’.30 If this ambit claim was made, perhaps without Balcombe’s knowledge, Abell might well have exploded into an angry rant, in the course of which he confessed to various villainies which would ‘chill the blood’.

  During this unpleasantness, the name of James Patterson apparently came up, Abell’s old crony in Madras, the forger and swindler convicted and transported to Sydney, who had died eighteen months earlier.31 Somehow the attorney knew of the late, unregretted Patterson and of a forged bond among his papers in the name of Edward Abell. That seemed to be effective in frightening off Betsy’s blackguard husband, but it left her in the same unhappy position of a deserted wife.

  If correspondence or a journal by Balcombe’s attorney was still available in archives today, that could have clarified the confused situation described by Betsy. But if that possibility offered hope to a biographer, it has been extinguished. Assuming that Balcombe’s solicitor in 1824 was Messrs Moore of George Street, the same he retained in later years, unfortunately no such record survives.

  Betsy’s sad and rather desperate letter to Sir Henry Torrens in London was apparently accompanied by the unlikely gift of ‘two Pheasants of this country’ for his wife. Pheasants are not native to Australia; an 1819 watercolour, pen and ink drawing entitled ‘The Mountain Pheasant’, by the convict artist Richard Browne, is actually of a lyrebird displaying its plumage.32 Betsy could surely not have afforded the expense or persuaded a ship’s captain to convey two live lyrebirds. (Although live birds were sent—cockatoos and even emus and Western Australian black swans—it was at great expense, as crew had to be specially deputed to feed them and keep them away from the ship’s dogs.) For Betsy to have the lyrebirds stuffed by a taxidermist, as well as boxed and shipped, would still have been costly, but a small investment weighed against the possibility of obtaining a land grant.

  However, there is no evidence that Torrens made an effort to press her case for a grant. At the time he had other concerns, with reports from India that far too many soldiers, including his own nephew, were dying of ‘fever and bowel disease’.33 He may have been less than impressed when Betsy had written to him the previous year asking that he honour his late brother’s promissory note to Edward Abell. Although he had probably suspected that the note was a forgery, as a gentleman he had complied.

  Betsy believed that Abell had ‘jumped ship’ for Van Diemen’s Land after the meeting with her father’s attorney—but shipping lists show that he did not leave Sydney immediately. In fact, he was still around when she wrote her letter to Torrens. He was to remain in the colony for two months, melding into the shadowy world of convicts, gamblers and ne’er-do-wells. Perhaps from The Rocks or the Botanical Gardens he watched her as she walked around the cove with their daughter in her arms. His name does not appear
again in the newspapers until ‘Shipping News’ reveals his departure on 20 September on the Prince Regent, and another list picks him up in Hobart Town for two weeks, before he sailed on the same vessel, ‘passenger for India’. After Mauritius the Prince Regent continued via the Cape to England, but Abell would have changed to another vessel bound for Madras.34

  In India his trail is lost.

  CHAPTER 32

  THE FASHIONABLES

  The Balcombes and Betsy were delighted when asked to dine at Parramatta as guests of the governor and his Scottish wife, Anna Maria. They enjoyed what Amelia Forbes described as the ‘Beneficent Rule of Sir Thomas Brisbane’.1

  Old Government House at Parramatta, just over 15 miles from Sydney, is of the same vintage as St Helena’s Plantation House. Although considerably smaller, its elegant Georgian architecture is similar: two-storeyed, slate-roofed, with tall shuttered windows flanking a front portico. Its construction was more sound than the earlier official residence in Sydney, which was blighted by the haphazard additions of various governors. Government House Parramatta was a more substantial building, graciously situated with lawns sloping to the Parramatta River, where there was a wharf for boats from Sydney. The bucolic vista of parkland with the placid river winding through it was reminiscent of gentler parts of Scotland and had more appeal for the Brisbanes than the view of Sydney harbour. They preferred living at a distance from the rough and tumble of commercial life, the raucous noise of convicts and the interruptions and complaints of difficult departmental officials. The price was that some of those officials, such as Frederick Goulburn and Commissary-General William Wemyss, took on not only more responsibility but also more personal power and made life difficult for the governor. But of more importance to Sir Thomas was that the distance from the sea allowed a clearer observation of the southern skies.