The Chronicles of Early Melbourne/Volume 1/Chapter 30
CHAPTER XXX.
PHYSICAL PHENOMENA.
SYNOPSIS:— Aboriginal Theories of the "Heavenly Bodies." —Theories of the Black Man" Creation. —"Nooralie" Mythology. —Comets. —Eclipses. —Atmospherical Observations. —Earthquakes.
THE Aborigines of Victoria had not only some knowledge of astronomy, but a curious notion of the existence of what are known as "The Heavenly Bodies" prevailed amongst them. Fluttering in their traditions is one pointing to an early belief that a race of wise birds, of which the eagle-hawk and the crow were the first and second in command, ruled the country before the appearance on earth of the black people, and that all such ancestry was translated to the skies, and there became the sun, moon and stars. There are several theories as to how the first "black man was created, one being that he appeared at a place called Koorra-boort, near Ballarat, and was formed from the gum of the wattle-tree. Other folk-lore declares that the world was fabricated by mythical beings known as the "Nooralie," so potent that they could order the sun and the moon to do just as they liked. At first the sun shone continuously, and the blackfellows tiring of the monotonous brilliancy prayed for a change; so as to oblige them the "Nooralie" decreed that the sun should divide his work with the moon, and thus were formed the alternations of light and darkness. The moon in those remote times was not the cold chaste goddess we are taught by modern poets to believe her, but a very roystering sort of young man, who raked away amongst the stars, and did no little mischief there. The "Nooralie," however, soon put him on his good behaviour, by commanding him to die, and resume life at certain periods, and hence originated the punctuality with which the luminary goes away and returns. There is an amazing mixing up of the moon's sex amongst the Aborigines of the Australian Continent, for whilst she was reputed to have been something of the high-blooded larrikin in the Victorian quarter, in portions of South Australia she was originally classed as a young woman-a capricious courtezan, whose presence tended much towards the demoralization of the male proportion of the community, on which she practised with her insidious and wicked spells.
Comets
Were but little known of, and whenever one was seen it was terribly alarming to the sable race. The first recorded visit of a comet in Melbourne was on the 3rd March, 1843, when great consternation was caused by the appearance in the Heavens of an object resembling a gigantic moonbeam. When first observed it was shaped like a dart; then its extremity curved, and gradually turned into a sword-blade. On the third night it was ascertained to be a comet of first-class magnitude, the denser part of the tail being thirty degrees in extent. It was travelling eastward, and had traversed about thirty degrees since its first appearance. It remained until 10.30, and it is declared that "never were the eyes of man in this hemisphere greeted with a more magnificent appearance in the heavens."
The effect the advent of such a "illustrious stranger" had upon the Aborigines is evidenced by the following extract from an interesting paper contributed by Mr. A. C. Le Souef, Usher of the Legislative Council, to Brough Smyth's invaluable work on "The Aborigines of Victoria":—
"They are very superstitious. Comets are their peculiar aversion. The first night the great comet of 1842 (1843) appeared, there was dreadful commotion and consternation among the Australian tribes. A large number were encamped close to the station where I resided, and I remember the intense alarm it created-different spokesmen gesticulated and speechified far into the night; but as the comet still remained, and all their endeavours to explain the unusual appearance were fruitless, they broke up their camp in the middle of the night—the only time I ever remember its being done — and crossed the river, where they remained huddled up together until morning. Their opinion yvas that the comet had been caused and sent by the Ovens blacks to do them some direful harm. They left the station, and did not return until the comet disappeared."
A comet again showed itself on the 21st December, 1844, about ten degrees above the south-west horizon. Its tail was ten or twelve degrees in length, and it was shooting upwards, and inclining towards the ecliptic. It remained visible for an hour; and though smaller was much more magnificent in appearance than the comet of the year before. The next night it yvas not visible by reason of a hazy atmosphere; but on the third night it showed itself more clearly about nine o'clock—apparently moving towards the zenith in a north-easterly direction.
Eclipses.
An eclipse of the sun was visible in Melbourne, at 7.40 a.m, 30th October, 1845. The luminary was obscured by a thick mist, and the unfavourable state of the weather threatened to deprive expectant viewers of the sight altogether. About the time of the greatest phase, the sun burst forth occasionally, and then might be seen presenting the singular appearance of about a fourth of his disc being cut away. Shortly before the termination, some fourteen minutes before ten, the clouds rolled off and allowed a fine view of the glorious orb, gradually recovering its full proportions.
On the 15th April, 1847, there was an eclipse of the sun at 4 p.m. The disc was partly obscured, and the obscuration increased until 4.30. p.m. when a third was under cover, and by 5 p.m. the half was hidden from view, so continuing until sunset. The greatest curiosity was manifested, and nearly all the townspeople turned into the streets operating with bits of smoked glass, and trying hard to obtain good "lunars" of the novel sight.
A total eclipse of the sun took place on the 18th August, 1849, yvhich was partially visible in Melbourne, and appeared to excite uncommon interest. It is thus described:— "When first observable, about half-past three o'clock p.m., the moon appeared slowly making its way over the south-west limb of the sun, and the shadow gradually increased until about half-past four, when the centres of both luminaries seemed to lie in the same horizontal line, at yvhich time about one-third of the solar horizontal diameter appeared wanting, and the luminary looked as of a crescent form, the cusps being perpendicular to the horizon and pointing due south. Shortly after this an immense dense mass of cumulus cloud rose from the horizon to that part of the heavens yvhere the sun was, and completely hid him from view, nor did he again shoyv till the morning of the 20th."
A partial eclipse of the moon appeared on the morning of the 3rd September, 1849. The first contact with the dark shadow took place at thirty-one degrees from the northernmost point of the moon's limb towards the east, and the last contact was at sixty-four degrees from the aforesaid point towards the west. When the phenomenon commenced, the entrance of the limb into the penumbra was preceded by a gradually increasing dimness, as if entering the margin of a light cloud, and during the whole time the eclipse remained, this dimness was continued along the margin of the penumbra, which extended a considerable way over the moon's centre.
A n annular eclipse of the sun, visible at Melbourne, occurred on Saturday, the ist February, 1851.
Atmospherical Observations
Were held of small account, and the thermometer and barometer were but little known in the olden times, possibly because the primitive colonists were too much engrossed in settling down in the wilderness, or that such air-gauging appliances were scarce and little consonant with the public taste. The first records of any climatic testing to be found is in the diary of the Rev. Robert Knopwood, the Chaplain to the Collins Convict Expedition, during its sojourn at Sorrento, in 1803-4. From entries therein, the 25th October is noted as a day exceedingly uncomfortable. At 12 the thermometer stood at 92; at 6.30 p.m. it was exceedingly cold, and it is remarked, "the sudden change from heat to cold is very great here, much more than in England." On the 31st, at 6 p.m., there was heavy rain; and at 8 much lightning. At 10, "a very dreadful tempest, and lightning very severe." The rain continued over the following day (1st November) with a heavy thunderstorm. The thermometer was 93 at 12 o'clock, and down to 50 in the eve. December 21st, at 2 p.m., thermometer in shade 96, and 118 in the sun by the side of a marquee. 27th at 10 a.m. it was 96 in the shade. On Christmas Day thermometer 82 in the shade, and on the 29th it was 63 at 3 p.m. The New Year was very changeable, and in January there were all sorts of weather. On 14th January in the afternoon the thermometer was 92 at 4 o'clock, and 76 at 6.30 o'clock, whilst the next day the rain, thunder and lightning were something terrific. The following extra shows that the 18th of January, 1804, was quite a grilling day in the settlement:—
"Wednesday, 18th.—a.m.—The day very fine. At 11 o'clock the thermometer stood at 82. At I p.m., thermometer, 92 in the shade, 110 in the sun. At I p.m. the military assembled on the parade in their new clothes and fired three excellent volleys. At 3.45 p.m. a hut belonging to Lieutenant Johnson's, of the Royal Marines, took fire and burned down, with another of Lieutenant Lord's, and very near setting the marquee on fire. Observation of the thermometer taken by Mr. Harris in his marquee:— 7 a.m., shade 68; 12 noon, shade 92, sun 117; 1.30 p.m., shade 97; 2 p.m. sun 127 2.15 p.m., shade 101, sun 130; 2.30 p.m., shade 102, sun 132; 3 p.m., shade 102, sun 120; 10 p.m., shade 83. This has been by far the hottest day since we came to the camp."
The convict colony passed away, and the skies might smile or frown unwatched, and the sun sulk or burn as it liked for more than thirty years; but that the thermometer was set experimentalizing soon after the permanent White occupation of 1835-6 is conclusively established by the following quotation from Fawkner's MSS. newspaper, the Melbourne Advertiser of 15th January, 1838.
"Meteorological.-Sunday, 14th January, at a quarter before 1 o'clock p.m., the thermometer in the shade stood at 102; at 1 p.m., fell to 78. Barometer at 8 a.m., was 29.89; at 1 p.m., 29.58; and at 8 p.m., 29.42. About midnight it came on to blow a violent northerly gale, which continued until 8 a.m."
These are the first journalistic readings of the kind extant, and they disclose the fact that in the management of his little "Foolscap Experiment," whatever other shortcomings were apparent, there can be no doubt that "Johnny" Fawkner, its redoubtable editor, had his "weather"-eye open.
In 1839, Mr. James Smith, one of the primitive inhabitants, supplied the Port Phillip Gazette with what were technically termed "Meteorological Tables," but they were little more than a crudely cooked re-hash from the English almanacs, with scarcely any attempt at localization. The same journal issued a sheet almanac for the year, which was simply a bare calendar of the months, week and days, padded with a few items of general information useful for the time.
In 1840 there was attached to the department of the Harbour Master an officer grandiloquently designated a "Meteorologist;" but his scientific services were not of much value, if assessed in proportion to the scale of his emolument—namely, eighteenpence per day! He was a Mr. Phillip Hervey, an obliging, gentlemanly, bustling sort of old fellow, domiciled in a small wooden tower on the Flagstaff Hill. Whatever spare hours he had were devoted to the compilation of brief calendar notices for the newspapers, and keeping his "sick-books" for Dr. Greeves, by which means he eked out a trifling addition to his one-and-sixpenny wage. As for anything like systematic meteorological records, they were never kept in those days, and the rainfall was only casually noticed by the general wetness of a winter, or a rough guess as to the number of feet the Yarra rose in floodtime at the Melbourne Wharf or the Studley Park Falls, where trees were notched at the various high water marks.
From an old journal of Hervey's, and other sources, supplementing it after his death, I have been enabled to ascertain the rainfall at Melbourne for the eleven years specified as under:— 1840, 22.58 inches; 1841, 30.16 inches; 1842, 31.17 inches; 1843, 21.54 inches; 1844, 28.26 inches; 1845, 23.92 inches; 1846, 30.54 inches; 1847, 30.18 inches; 1848, 33.15 inches; 1849, 44.23 inches; 1850, 26.99 inches.
The first published Meteorological Summary appears in Kerr's Melbourne Almanac for 1842, from which it seems that in 1841 the barometer mean of the year was 29.885, the thermometer 57.74, number of days with rain 98, and depth of rain 30.16.
In the course of my researches I have also picked up a few instances of the exceptional action of both thermometer and barometer, and I append them, pro tanto, in the promiscuous condition in which I found them. 1845, 14th January: The thermometer was 122 degrees in the sun.
1845, 25th March: On the Racecourse the thermometer was 135 degrees in the sun.
1846, 6th June, at 7 a.m.: The thermometer was at 28 degrees, or 4 degrees below freezing point. In recording this fact the Herald of the 9th declares "that the lowest temperature of the thermometer on record in Port Phillip was at sunrise on the 23rd December, 1836—20 degrees." This is almost incredible.
1846, 11th August, at night: Thermometer 23 degrees; and at sunrise of the 12th, 25 degrees at the Merri Creek.
1847: On the night of the 19th June the barometer was at 28 degrees 90 minutes, a degree of depression never noted before in the Province. It was attended by few remarkable atmospherical disturbances, but there was slight rain in Melbourne. The country round Seymour had been drenched with heavy rain for several days previous, and during the night was swept by a violent gale of wind, almost a hurricane, which uprooted several trees and inflicted considerable damage upon the settlers located about that quarter.
1851, 6th February (Black Thursday): The thermometer of Fahrenheit was 110 degrees in the shade and 129 degrees in the sun at the shop of Brentani, a jeweller in Collins Street. In another place at 11 a.m. it was 117 degrees in the shade, at 1 p.m. fell to 109 degrees, and at 4 was up to 113.
It is the opinion of old colonists that during the first fifteen years of the White settlement (1835-50) the winters were wetter and colder, and the summers warmer and more hot-windy than subsequently. During the first week of May in 1843 and 1847 hot winds in a very modified degree actually visited Melbourne and its neighbourhood.
Snow was known to have fallen only three times in or near Melbourne—viz., 14th July, 1840, and 31st August, 1849, in the town, and 27th June, 1845, at Heidelberg. There has only been one occasion when the snow came down in considerable quantity—i.e., 1849—an account of which is given in a previous chapter.
Earthquakes.
The first subterranean convulsion noticed by European residents in Port Phillip has given rise to some discussion as to its date, and more than one writer has affirmed that it occurred during Sir Richard Bourke's visit to Melbourne, in March, 1837, when it so alarmed his Excellency as to cause him to hesitate about proclaiming a township on the site of Melbourne. Sir Richard's decision as to the town was formed on the 4th March, for on that day he rode over the place, and determined upon having a township established there. Captain King was with him, but in his diary of his trip from Sydney is silent on the subject; and, singular to write, Mr. Robert Hoddle, the then Principal Officer of Survey, before his death in 1881, sent me a verbal answer to a written query, that he recollected nothing whatever about an earthquake at the time. Mr. Hoddle also kept a precise journal of the events of the period, and in the portions for March, 1837, with a perusal of which I was favoured, I found not a word referring to so important an event. Nevertheless, there was an earthquake, and in March, too, but towards the close of the month. Mr. Thomas Halfpenny was then a publican in a wee wattle-and-daub bunk of a tavern, perched on the ground now occupied by the Theatre Royal, in Bourke Street, and one sultry night towards the end of March, sleepless from the heat, he suddenly felt a movement as if some supernatural visitant had gently given him a lift. He kept wondering until morning as to the cause of the commotion, for, though he lived by the dispersion of spirituous influences, he had no belief in spiritual agencies. On opening his bar to serve some early birds with a morning dram, to his astonishment he learned that a shock of earthquake had been felt by several of the inhabitants during the night.
On referring to Mr. Robert Russell, a sort of living oracle in an age apparently so remote, he assured me that there was an earthquake, and that he believed it occurred on the 25th March; but he promised to hunt it up from a cairn of old memoranda, which he religiously preserves as a memento of "Auld Lang Syne." He writes:— "You asked me to state what I remember of the earthquake. Simply this: That D'Arcy and I were sleeping on the same stretcher, and that I got up to look under it, feeling as though some large animal had crept under and was lifting me up—bodily." The D'Arcy referred to is the gentleman mentioned in another chapter as a member of the Survey Staff sent from Sydney in charge of Mr. Russell. Two or three days after, Mr. Russell supplied further particulars, including an extract from the oldest diary in the colony, except Batman's, which I give as a species of literary fossil, not often to be met with now-a-days:— "I find I was quite right in my surmises as to the precise date of the earthquake. It took place on the night of the 25th March, 1837. I transcribe a bit of my own journal. 24th March, 1837: Fine day in the morning—cleared up, but windy—slept at Cowie's—dreadful night of wind. 25th: Slept at D'Arcy's tent on Barwon—bitten on the ankle yesterday by centipede; very sore and bad. 26th, Sunday: Rode with D'Arcy towards settlement—slept at Simpson and Wedge's.'
"Now, I saw to-day a lady of my acquaintance who remembers as a child D'Arcy's tent at the Barwon, opposite where she lived, and the talk of our being disturbed by the earthquake at the time, and I remember on that single occasion, that being absent from my own tent, D'Arcy and I had to share the same stretcher, which circumstance is connected in my mind with the earthquake, and of being startled therewith. D'Arcy and I were frequent visitors at the house. So much for the earthquake."
Mr. Russell also kindly undertook to communicate with Mr. E. T. Newton, an old friend of his in the country, who was Batman's business man at the time, and he has supplied me with the following extract from the reply of his correspondent:—
"I cannot fix the date of the first earthquake, although I felt it distinctly. It was as near midnight as possible. I was with a friend encamped on rising or rather high ground, near a creek known then as the Deep Creek, about fifteen or twenty miles from Maribyrnong, on the Saltwater River. We had sheep there, and the men had been constructing brush yards, and had gone to bed in their tents tired, and with such an over-supply of strong rum, that they would not believe my report of the earthquake when they had come to their right senses in the morning. The oscillations of the earth, though not violent, were too palpable to be mistaken by anyone; and I had never felt anything like it before, nor have I since that date."
I think I have now fairly established the existence and period of Earthquake No. 1.
In 1841, Collingwood, then known as Newtown, was the refugium peccatorum of most of the rascaldom of the period. It was one of the queerest collections of back-slums imaginable, and how the rogues and vagabonds could content themselves with the hovel accommodation afforded by the place is difficult to be understood. Early on the morning of the 21st April, the "black sheep" were rudely disturbed in their slumberings by the shock of an earthquake which shook them all in their lairs. They thought the end of the world was at hand, and all Newtown, good and bad, turned out in trepidation, many of them half dressed, and flew in fear and trembling into Melbourne, where to their intense joy they learned there had been no premonitory warning of "the crack of doom," so they returned, to find Newtown still in the land of the living, and were, no doubt, thankful for the long day vouchsafed to them.
But the most alarming shock of earthquake ever experienced in the colony happened in Melbourne at half-past four p.m. of the 28th April, 1847. It was sharply felt throughout the town, though almost instantaneous in its duration. A few houses in some of the streets were slightly shaken, and people rushed about in a state of considerable terror. In one or two of the churches and larger buildings there were appearances of a strain, and certain slight settlements in the foundations were noticed. The Flagstaff Hill showed some effects of the subterranean émeute, inasmuch as the staff employed in vessel-signalling was shattered in more than one place. I happened to be in the Supreme Court at the time, where the shock frightened everyone. A smothered rumbling, as if the passage of heavy carriages in the earth, was heard, and the interior of the building seemed to rock. The persons in attendance were almost literally thunderstruck, and most of them rushed frightened into the open air. There was a special jury case on at the time, and Judge A'Beckett, unceremoniously adjourning the Court, hobbled with all his might off the Bench, for he was mostly in a state of gout or rheumatism, and had not the free use of his limbs. No material damage was caused.
At a quarter to twelve a.m. on the 12th October, 1848, another shock of earthquake was felt in Melbourne, but it was the slightest of any that had up to that time occurred.