Ballarat in the first couple of decades of gold was such a melting pot of nationalities. There were English, Irish, Scots, Cornish and welsh as well as people from all over Europe. In the district around Ballarat there were pockets of people who had all come from the same region of the Old World to seek their fortunes in the new. The descendants of the Italians and Swiss are still living in places like Daylesford and Hepburn Springs today.
And then there were the Chinese, so alien to all the Europeans that they were despised, abused, excluded from the camaraderie of the goldfields and blamed for everything from muddying the drinking water to causing the disappearance of poultry from the coops in people's backyards.
Among this collection of humanity the Irish were between 15 and 25% of the overall population. Not all were Catholics and not all Catholics were Irish although the clergy was so and had little time for those who didn't conform to the customs and practices their brand of Christianity demanded.
In the early days there were too few priests to have much of an impact on how Irishmen related to their fellow goldfields citizens. As Irish women represented 75% of all single female immigrants, marriages across religious lines were common, the clergy of all faiths being resigned to baptising the offspring of such unions and counting them in their flock.
The promulgation of the Syllabus of Errors by Pope Pius IX in 1864 changed all that. Henceforth it would be much more difficult for Catholics to get into heaven, and on the goldfields of Victoria the Irish Clergy were committed to making sure the new rules were adhered to with absolute obedience.
Mixed marriages were an abomination, children could only be educated by Catholic teachers in Catholic schools, and all communication with those outside the Church were to be limited to necessity only. The Irish Church in Australia was building a wall around itself which would stay in place, and encourage derision from those outside it, until a wise old pope decreed that it be pulled down in the 1960s.
Jill's books dealing with the Catholic Church in Australia
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
You are all invited to Twilight Talks
Each year the Ballarat Mechanics' Institute hosts a series of Friday night talks called Twilight Talks. The first for the year will be held this Friday in the Humffray Room of the Mechanics' Institute, 117 Sturt Street, Ballarat commencing with refreshments at 5pm.
As it is the first talk for the year and just a few days after Anzac Day our speaker will be:
The Secretary Victorian Committee for the Battle of Australia
Lieutenant Colonel Ted Lynes
Who will use the first Twilight Talk after Anzac Day to talk about
The Battle for Australia
His talk will encompass all actions between Japan and Australia and her Allies from mid 1940 to the Japanese surrender 2nd September 1945
Ballaarat Mechanics Institute,
Sturt Street, Ballarat
April 29
5.30 – 6.30pm – refreshments at 5.00pm
Friday, April 15, 2011
Why write historical fiction when you can write history?
I have occasionally been asked why I have chosen historical fiction as a means by which to portray the people about whom I study. Why not write history instead?
I fully intended writing history when I embarked on a study of the Irish population of Ballarat in the second half of the nineteenth century for my Doctor of Philosophy degree, but when I was invited by the University of Ballarat's Professor Kevin Livingston to present my research in the form of a novel I jumped at the chance.
The Irish in ballarat were my people. My mother's ancestry was full of Irish names like O'Farrell, Daly and Dolan. Most were from Counties Cork or Clare and had left Ireland in the wake of the Great Potato Famine but were in Victoria before gold was discovered. They were probably tenant farmers for one of the two irish entrepreneurs granted special surveys of large tracts of rich volcanic soil in the Western District around Port fairy and Koroit.
The Irish in my father's family tree is less obvious among the English, Scots and German names, but it is there nevertheless. His English forebears were in Portland where the Henty family had established themselves in the 1830s, and were already established as grain and chaff merchants in Ballarat before the first sparks of rebellion began to fly in 1854. There is no record of them taking part in any of the protest meetings or of swearing allegiance to the Southern Cross. Perhaps they were onlookers or perhaps they kept right away on that fateful day.
Having been given permission to write about the people to whom my ancestors belonged I had to find a place to begin my research. More on that later.
To purchase The Liberator's Birthday
I fully intended writing history when I embarked on a study of the Irish population of Ballarat in the second half of the nineteenth century for my Doctor of Philosophy degree, but when I was invited by the University of Ballarat's Professor Kevin Livingston to present my research in the form of a novel I jumped at the chance.
The Irish in ballarat were my people. My mother's ancestry was full of Irish names like O'Farrell, Daly and Dolan. Most were from Counties Cork or Clare and had left Ireland in the wake of the Great Potato Famine but were in Victoria before gold was discovered. They were probably tenant farmers for one of the two irish entrepreneurs granted special surveys of large tracts of rich volcanic soil in the Western District around Port fairy and Koroit.
The Irish in my father's family tree is less obvious among the English, Scots and German names, but it is there nevertheless. His English forebears were in Portland where the Henty family had established themselves in the 1830s, and were already established as grain and chaff merchants in Ballarat before the first sparks of rebellion began to fly in 1854. There is no record of them taking part in any of the protest meetings or of swearing allegiance to the Southern Cross. Perhaps they were onlookers or perhaps they kept right away on that fateful day.
Having been given permission to write about the people to whom my ancestors belonged I had to find a place to begin my research. More on that later.
To purchase The Liberator's Birthday
Thursday, April 7, 2011
The past is another country
The past is another country. A great idea, and well used over the years, but an apt expression of the dilemma historical fiction writers face in locating their stories in an environment which no longer exists. There might, of course, be traces of that environment remaining. Buildings of the time may have survived intact and may still be in use for much the same purpose as they were in the past. I'm reminded here of my time spent researching in Westminster Abbey. Sometimes, however, there are only ruins but, with a bit of imagination, they can be reconstructed mentally so that the novel's characters can feel at home in them. More often that not, though, nothing remains.
Even so, there is merit in visiting the place where the novel is set if only to experience such elements as the climatic conditions. it is hard for those of us who live in the wide brown land at the bottom of the world to contemplate the Northern Hemisphere without having felt the seasons for ourselves.
When I went to Ireland for the first time with the ghost of my great great aunt Brigid, I had no expectation of discovering any more that what it felt like to be in a place that was green year around and frequently wet. I soon found out that the countryside wasn't uniformly green, it was various shades of green which were dependent on the soil, the rainfall and the amount of sun and shade there was. Some of the landscape I was seeing showed the impact of the Celtic Tiger which was still flashing its teeth across the island, but underneath there were remnants of the past everywhere I looked. And there were the Heritage Centres and local history libraries which could fill in the gaps that my eyes could not tell me.
At the Heritage Centre at Corofin in County Clare I found out about Brigid's family. On a map I was able to pinpoint the exact location of the house her father had rented, but although I drove up and down the New Quay Road I could not find the lane which led down to the cluster of houses which had once formed a clachan on the edge of the bay. Then I met a couple of old codgers propping up the bar at O'Brien's pub in Ballyvaghan who could remember what their grandmothers had told them of famine times. They told me the boreen I was looking for was the set of tyre tracks across a modern paddock, I had seen but thought nothing of. With some trepidation I went back, opened the gate and began walking towards the bay. There on the other side of a second paddock were the ruins of half a dozen little stone houses one of which had been my great great grandfather's. What a thrill!
Link to Jill's Books
Even so, there is merit in visiting the place where the novel is set if only to experience such elements as the climatic conditions. it is hard for those of us who live in the wide brown land at the bottom of the world to contemplate the Northern Hemisphere without having felt the seasons for ourselves.
When I went to Ireland for the first time with the ghost of my great great aunt Brigid, I had no expectation of discovering any more that what it felt like to be in a place that was green year around and frequently wet. I soon found out that the countryside wasn't uniformly green, it was various shades of green which were dependent on the soil, the rainfall and the amount of sun and shade there was. Some of the landscape I was seeing showed the impact of the Celtic Tiger which was still flashing its teeth across the island, but underneath there were remnants of the past everywhere I looked. And there were the Heritage Centres and local history libraries which could fill in the gaps that my eyes could not tell me.
At the Heritage Centre at Corofin in County Clare I found out about Brigid's family. On a map I was able to pinpoint the exact location of the house her father had rented, but although I drove up and down the New Quay Road I could not find the lane which led down to the cluster of houses which had once formed a clachan on the edge of the bay. Then I met a couple of old codgers propping up the bar at O'Brien's pub in Ballyvaghan who could remember what their grandmothers had told them of famine times. They told me the boreen I was looking for was the set of tyre tracks across a modern paddock, I had seen but thought nothing of. With some trepidation I went back, opened the gate and began walking towards the bay. There on the other side of a second paddock were the ruins of half a dozen little stone houses one of which had been my great great grandfather's. What a thrill!
Link to Jill's Books
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Ancestor Worship
Why are we so fascinated by the lives our forebears lived? What makes us want to unravel the mysteries surrounding their decision to up and leave the countries of their birth for the unknown of the New World? Are we still so insecure about our identity that we need to relate ourselves to our parents, grandparents or great grandparents places of origin? Or do we simply need to dig about in the past to find something salacious, secret or scandalous in our family tree which will set us apart from the rest of humanity? Or perhaps it's just plain curiosity, or the need to fill in the gaps between family legend and the real story.
Whatever the reason, genealogy has become an obsession for many. There are societies in every town made up of dedicated family historians who, when they are not delving into their own ancestry, are providing advice to newcomers about to embark on their search into the past. Until recently this required considerable patience and stamina. Endless hours had to be endured reading microfiche records and microfilm copies of newspapers in state and regional libraries for the chance of finding mention of ancient relatives. To trace them back to their country of origin was even more difficult. if overseas travel was out of the question, the researcher had to rely on inconsistent lines of communication by mail.
Not anymore. So much is on the internet. Births, deaths, marriages, shipping records and so much more! Genealogical centres are contactable by email although it still falls to volunteers to field requests and provide answers. Websites and blogs abound as I found out when I went looking for sites on which I could advertise my own efforts to tell the story of why my mother's family came to Victoria during the middle of the 19th century. Anyone who is interested in the Irish Famine Orphans, the impact of the Young Ireland uprising and the devastation heaped on places like County Clare will no doubt relate to the story which runs though my Famine novel Brigid.
where to get Brigid
Whatever the reason, genealogy has become an obsession for many. There are societies in every town made up of dedicated family historians who, when they are not delving into their own ancestry, are providing advice to newcomers about to embark on their search into the past. Until recently this required considerable patience and stamina. Endless hours had to be endured reading microfiche records and microfilm copies of newspapers in state and regional libraries for the chance of finding mention of ancient relatives. To trace them back to their country of origin was even more difficult. if overseas travel was out of the question, the researcher had to rely on inconsistent lines of communication by mail.
Not anymore. So much is on the internet. Births, deaths, marriages, shipping records and so much more! Genealogical centres are contactable by email although it still falls to volunteers to field requests and provide answers. Websites and blogs abound as I found out when I went looking for sites on which I could advertise my own efforts to tell the story of why my mother's family came to Victoria during the middle of the 19th century. Anyone who is interested in the Irish Famine Orphans, the impact of the Young Ireland uprising and the devastation heaped on places like County Clare will no doubt relate to the story which runs though my Famine novel Brigid.
where to get Brigid
Monday, February 21, 2011
Decisions, decisions
Choosing which of my books to epublish was easy. Brigid is by far my favourite. Is is, after all, semi-biographical. The first person narrator is essentially me and I did have a great great aunt called Bridget. Not that I knew much about her when I started writing what I intended to be a story about a middle aged woman travelling clockwise around Ireland on her own. I had chose Bridget to accompany me precisely because no-one knew much about her. I could invent her without my relatives - Mother particularly - being able to say "Well our Bridget wasn't like that!"
I have such wonderful memories of the journeys we took together. There were four all up, each long school vacation from my boarding house mistress position at the school on the leafy North Shore of Sydney. On the first trip I did in fact go clockwise around Ireland after a few days in Dublin seeing the sites and spending a fortune in the bookshops. Then it was down through Wicklow and Wexford, across to Cork where some of my ancestors came from and on up through Killarney to Clare. I visited Glendalough and checked out the sites of the 1798 Rebellion at Enniscorthy, and soaked up the atmosphere in the wonderful little towns I passed through. Some of them I had read about, others would become household names as I delved into the history of Ireland.
And all the time I was learning about the Great Potato Famine! And the role my ancestors might have played in it. Imagining Brigid was exciting. I had so much material on which to create her.
Before we had even reached County Clare, Brigid had taken on a life of her own. She was directing the novel. It was her story and as the time I had available for the journey ran out and the boarding school beckoned, I had to shelve both her and the project until more holidays came around. On subsequent journeys, there was no clockwise touring. it was straight across the middle of the country to Ballyvaughan and Mrs O'Brien's pub so I could start researching close to where Brigid had spent the first part of her life until the famine struck.
Just thinking about those weeks I spent in the Burren around Ballyvaughan, nosing about, asking questions, being shown the places Brigid would have known, thrills me still. And reading Brigid's story again so that it could be converted to an ebook, excited me anew. I hope that now it is available in eformat it will find a whole lot of new readers and be loved by many more people all over again.
www.eurekahouse.com.au
I have such wonderful memories of the journeys we took together. There were four all up, each long school vacation from my boarding house mistress position at the school on the leafy North Shore of Sydney. On the first trip I did in fact go clockwise around Ireland after a few days in Dublin seeing the sites and spending a fortune in the bookshops. Then it was down through Wicklow and Wexford, across to Cork where some of my ancestors came from and on up through Killarney to Clare. I visited Glendalough and checked out the sites of the 1798 Rebellion at Enniscorthy, and soaked up the atmosphere in the wonderful little towns I passed through. Some of them I had read about, others would become household names as I delved into the history of Ireland.
And all the time I was learning about the Great Potato Famine! And the role my ancestors might have played in it. Imagining Brigid was exciting. I had so much material on which to create her.
Before we had even reached County Clare, Brigid had taken on a life of her own. She was directing the novel. It was her story and as the time I had available for the journey ran out and the boarding school beckoned, I had to shelve both her and the project until more holidays came around. On subsequent journeys, there was no clockwise touring. it was straight across the middle of the country to Ballyvaughan and Mrs O'Brien's pub so I could start researching close to where Brigid had spent the first part of her life until the famine struck.
Just thinking about those weeks I spent in the Burren around Ballyvaughan, nosing about, asking questions, being shown the places Brigid would have known, thrills me still. And reading Brigid's story again so that it could be converted to an ebook, excited me anew. I hope that now it is available in eformat it will find a whole lot of new readers and be loved by many more people all over again.
www.eurekahouse.com.au
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Reaching into the past
There are those who will say disparagingly that historical fiction writers simply reach into the past and grab a few titivating bits of history and use them to create a story of our own liking. That is exactly what we do. Some would also accuse us of showing disregard for the circumstances surrounding the items we have selected as the basis of the story. That we should never do. Serious historical fiction writers can use their creative skills to breathe life into the past, particularly aspects of it which are rarely at the forefront of historical writing. We can explore the physical, emotional and psychological impact of events and issues which shaped the world on ordinary people and we can encourage our readers to share the grief and elation, the fear and joy which accompanied those events and issues. I think that is why historical fiction remains such a popular genre and gives rise to such gems as Kate Grenville's Secret River and Hilary Mantel.
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