d. My grandmother's journal (non-fiction): Pt 4

Life on the farm began each day before dawn.  As the birds of the bush woke with the fading of the night  - and as the first hint of sunlight crept into the inky sky from below the low hills on the horizon - Nils and Margaret (Hilda's parents) would drag themselves into another work-day.

Yet, despite the early start to their day, they would always allow their children (Annie and the younger twins Hilda and Walter) an extra hour or so to sleep. As much as possible they tried to hide the harsh realities of life on the land from their children.

They were like many other pioneering families in the mallee scrub of South Australia, at the turn of the nineteenth century - eking out an existence as they toiled to establish farms in the semi-arid and barren landscape.  They were hard workers.  They needed to be.  There were no pensions, and the government of the day demanded from the settlers fortitude, resilience and hard work. Anything less would not be tolerated.  If the farm-lands were not adequately developed to become productive (which they needed to be - in order to repay the purchasing loans); and if the improvements stipulated as part of the land acquisition were not completed (land-clearing, farm dwellings built, fencing, and so forth) within a relatively short time-frame of around nine years or less - the land would be forfeited … and the settlers would be evicted with nothing.

Life in the towns and cities was equally hard - although, this varied with the social class in which one lived.

Australia was, at this time, closely tied to Britain.  In part this was because so many Australians were either British migrants or descended from British migrants:  Of the almost four million Australians in 1900 − 95% were British:  English, Irish or Scottish.  And, like Britain - a distinct class-structure existed.

Most people belonged to the  'lower-class' (working class) with a relatively poor education (six to eight years of primary school). They endured low incomes, long hours (often 10 − 12 hour days, six days per week), and heavy physical work.  Their employment was unskilled and semi-skilled and included:  factory work, shop assistance, and domestic service.  These jobs were often dangerous - especially in the factories - with little or no safety provisions  (clothing or equipment), faulty machinery, and no disability or sickness benefits. They lived in cramped, unsanitary, rented houses with barely enough food or space for their large families.

However, around the turn of the century, advances were being made to improve the rights and conditions for workers.  These changes were partly due to the efforts of the workers unions (which had begun as early as the 1830's).  And, in 1907, a 'basic wage' was introduced:  Forty-two shillings per week - to provide for a male, wife and three children. Women remained entitled to only 54% of a man's wage - until 1914 (the start of WW1).

Contrasting the conditions and difficult working lives of the lower-classes, the middle and upper classes enjoyed higher incomes; higher social-status, larger homes, proper sanitation (ie. sewerage, less rats), leafier suburbs, more modern technologies (ie: gramophone, telephone), better quality food, better medical care (they could afford doctors if they were sick), and often domestic servants.  They also achieved higher levels of education than the lower-classes - including secondary ('Advanced') schooling and, sometimes, university. In addition, girls from the upper classes usually went to 'finishing-schools' - where they learned french, literature, and how to run a household.

The employment of the middle and upper-classes was generally white collar, less heavy, and better paid:  Middle-class work included:  teachers, nurses, office workers, commerce, and self-employment.  Upper-class work included: high ranking officers, judiciary, wealthy businessmen, wealthy graziers, professional men, clergy (usually Anglican).

However, while this class-structure was similar to Britain (although, even by the turn of the 19th century the class-structure in Australia was already less than in Britain) , and the working-classes still had a harder time finding prosperity and success than the higher social-classes - the opportunity to advance one's 'station'  was greater in Australia.

This was a consequence of some of the 'progressive ideas'  which were incorporated into the planning of the Australian society by the early governments:

The general plan was to create a nation based on, but hopefully better than, the existing British system: The laws and government  structure would follow the British system.  However, it was acknowledged that the social-system of Britain had failed many of its people:  It was thought that many convicts, and others who had been hanged, might have led honest productive lives if they had received more opportunities during their childhood:  Education was seen as the pivotal 'opportunity' which could improve the lives and fortunes of Australians.

Even as early as the 1830's the idea that 'crime was the result of ignorance, ignorance was the result of lack of education and, therefore, education would decrease crime' - was seen as a means of transforming the penal colony of Australia into an organised and orderly society.  It was argued, in political debates during the 19th century, that it would be better for the government to spend money on schools and teachers - than jails and prison-wardens.

Also, a  more educated and  highly skilled workforce was seen as necessary to deal with the increasing technologies (following the industrial and agricultural revolutions of the mid 1700's) - which the British had brought to Australia - and to manage the increasing British capital, and the greater urbanisation of the population.

So, with all of this in mind, the curriculum for Australian schools was designed (although it was also structured around the Irish educational system - established  in 1831):

Reading, writing, and arithmetic were the basics of the education program - with extra study in knitting, sewing, and darning for the girls - and geometry, geography, and arithmetic for the boys. 

However, in addition to these lessons, training was given to students to prepare them for life in the workplace - under the rhythms and demands of industrial capitalism:  Clocks, rule books, whistles, and hooters imposed a sense of time on work. Punctuality, respect for authority, hard work, discipline, duty ('work before pleasure'), civility (cleanliness, neat dress, good manners, poetry), and sobriety were taught as important values to live by.

It was hoped that this training would strengthen the character of the Australian people, and the nation, and reduce crime and corruption.

So schools became institutions which placed much importance on severe discipline, rote-learning and repetition (initiative and free expression were not encouraged), hard work, and cleanliness. And it was these skills, or principles, which would become fundamental in creating a workforce which would transform the rudimentary penal colonies into a prosperous developed nation - over just a few decades.

During the 1870's and 1880's  full-time attendance at primary school became compulsory. Before that it had been available to all students - but many struggling parents would keep their children home from school to help on the farms, or go out to work. The Education Act of 1872 meant that schooling would be free, secular, and compulsory for children from the age of six years. And attendance must be continued for between 6 − 8 years - until at least 12 years of age.

These social changes - as well as the growth of technology, productivity, and wealth in Australian - have resulted in a massive growth of the middle-class since the days when my grandmother, Hilda, received her six years of compulsory primary schooling.

The subsequent changes - which followed on from the free and compulsory education - have also led to the establishment of a 'meritocracy' (success in life based on 'merit'  - hard work, intelligence, conscientiousness ) rather than the old British system of an 'Aristocracy' (success in life determined mostly by the social class - nobility - into which one is born).  

All of these social changes gave Australians, even at the turn of the 19th century, hope:  Hope to better their lives - and the lives of their children - through hard work, study, acquiring skills, and making the most of opportunities available.  And, in Australia, even back over 100 years ago - there were opportunities for all classes of people.
 
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And, it was with this hope and these goals that Margaret and Nils battled the land and the climate at Bow Hill - and strove to find success for themselves and their three children.

Their lives were difficult and stressful.  Their worries were many:   The seven year drought from 1895; the poor wheat yields in the semi-arid rocky land of the region; the little of money they had to clothe and feed their children; the risk that the farm loan might not be repaid on time - and the farm would then be taken from them. Yet they would never discuss these problems if the children were nearby.  They tried to protect their children from the bulk of their adult worries.

And so, for Hilda, her childhood on the farm was mostly happy.  Her memories of her young life in the country would later warm her heart, and fill her conversations with joy and excitement - as she recalled  experiences with her siblings, and with her father, Nils.  Her relationship with her mother, however, was always fraught.

Hilda grew to know and love the Australian bush. She felt that she was a part of the landscape around her - and it was a part of her.  The country mallee region would always feel like 'home' - no matter how many years passed: The  laughter of the kookaburras; the rhythmic drone of the circadas on hot days; the sweet songs of the birds in the bush;  the scent of the eucalyptus trees; the colours of the landscape - rotating through yellow and green with the changing seasons; the winter creeks which would spring to life - dashing and frothing - if the rains came;  the constant azure-blue of the sky - interrupted only briefly by the fickle clouds. 

And space.  There was always so much space. 

The vast distances of the plains and rolling hills which disappeared over endless horizons. The miles of dirt roads which she and her siblings would travel along every weekday to get to school - riding their horses bareback.

And, at the heart of this mallee landscape - the place around which Hilda's life revolved and her own heart remained - was the homestead which her father built soon are he purchased the land in 1893.

It was a two roomed stone-cottage built from the rocky land in which it sat.  A corrugated-iron verandah surrounded the building on all sides - like the brim of an akubra hat - shading the family from the hot summer sun, and sheltering them from the rains.  A weatherboard lean-to sat up against the back wall and in this extension the children slept:  Annie and Hilda, sharing a single matress, in one small room; and Walter on a mattress in the other.  Nils and Margaret shared one of the two main rooms, next to the kitchen. 

The house had two small windows; one for each of the two main rooms. The windows were small - which kept the house cooler in summer, and warmer in the winter. However, the house was still often unbearably hot during the summer months - when the temperature could regularly reach over 40C.

On these hot days the family would do their best to endure the heat:  They would eat their meals at a table under a gum tree in the back yard - where it was cooler than the oven-like interior of the cottage.  And, when the night finally came, they would drag their mattresses outside and sleep under an ocean of stars - watching the moon sail slowly toward the horizon - as they each drifted off to sleep.

And, on these hot still nights, Hilda loved to talk with her father.  In the darkness, she would listen to his stories about his life in Sweden - so far from Australia in so many ways. She loved all of her father's stories - and all of their conversations about science, and literature, and learning. Nils would tell his intelligent daughter about the articles in the journals he imported from Sweden. And they would lose themselves in lively discussions about  fascinating topics … until exhaustion would eventually force them to give in to sleep. And, as Hilda drifted away into her dreams - she felt safe and loved in the close proximity of her father. She knew that he was so much like herself:  sentimental, academic, and gentle.


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The years passed and eventually, when Hilda was twelve years old, in 1909, after the final day of the school year for grade six, her mother advised her that she would not be returning to school again. 

Her twin brother, Walter, would continue on at the school for at least another year - as he was a 'boy', her mother told her, and education was more important for boys.  'Boys become the family wage-earners,' was the reasonable argument.  Also, at that time, Walter was in a grade below his twin, Hilda - so he had not yet finished the full six years of the primary school program.  Hilda had finished primary school a year early because her teachers had thought that she was so bright she could skip a school year.  Even with this, she still came top of the school in her final exams.

However, Hilda knew that she must accepted her mother's decision.  She would never again attend school.

She had no choice.  Her mother made all of the decisions in the household - mostly because she was so hard to get along with if she didn't get her own way. Also, she had a fearful temper. Hilda knew that she would never win an argument with her mother.  She was more like her gentle father and she did not like to fight.

Hilda was painfully aware, however, that the situation was incredibly unfair - given that her older sister, Annie, was still in school. In fact Annie, two years her senior, had moved to the city of Adelaide to finish Secondary school,  and from there she was planning to sit the university entrance exams and study for a degree in teaching at the Adelaide University. Her parents were funding all of this with any money they managed to save.

Hilda's Primary school teacher visited Hilda's home, at the start of the new school year,  to try to convince her parents to allow Hilda to study for just one more year.  'Even one extra year', she told them, 'could improve Hilda's prospects for work.  Her opportunities in life.  She might win a scholarship.'  But, the decision was made by Margaret.  She would not discuss it further.  Hilda would never go to school again. She would work on the farm and help with the household chores. Nils would not have a say in this.

The work on the farm was heavy, time-consuming, and lonely:  Carting well-water to the house for cleaning and cooking, washing clothes in a trough in the yard, ironing, mending and darning worn clothes, baking, making jam, preserving fruit and vegetables; cleaning; gardening (including hand watering the vegetables, fruit and nut trees, and the few flowers in the front yard and weeding and pruning), collecting eggs from the fowl house; churning butter from the milk …   The list of jobs went on and on and the work was never finished.

Margaret never had much to say to her daughter.  She mostly only spoke to her if there was work to do - or if Hilda had annoyed her again.  This had been the case for as long as Hilda could remember.

Once when Hilda was seven she had received a post-card.  She had excitedly sat in the kitchen colouring-in the picture with her pencils.  She wanted to give it to her father as a present.  Her mother had screamed at her, torn the post card up, and tossed it into the wood-stove.  And, as further punishment, she had denied Hilda a new 'best-dress' for the coming year:  This meant that Hilda could not  attend any social events for her entire eighth year.  Without a best dress - she would have to stay home and miss church on Sundays, picnics after church, Sunday fairs, visits to neighbouring farms. She would miss every social outing for an entire year until a new 'best dress'  was bought in a further 12  months time. All because she coloured-in her own post card at seven years of age.  This would remain one of Hilda's saddest and most painful childhood memories.

So, from the age of twelve, when Hilda stayed home from school while her siblings were both off studying, she felt much the same as she had at seven. Only this time the thought of her sister studying in order to go on to university hurt her much more.  This time she wouldn't  just miss out for a year; this time she would miss out for a lifetime.

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The eviction notice arrived late in the year of 1910.  The loan for the property had not been repaid in the stipulated period of time, so the farm was being repossessed by the government.  Years of drought meant that few, if any, farms in the semi-arid Murray mallee region were successful during this time. The loss of the farm had become a sad inevitability for Nils and Margaret. So, seventeen years after they had arrived - and after so many years of back breaking work from sun-up 'til sun-down, six days a week - they were forced to leave with nothing more than the cart, on which they had arrived, three horses,  a few sticks of furniture, and their clothes.

Margaret blamed Nils.  She blamed him for being lazy.  She blamed his waste of precious money buying useless journals.  She blamed him for choosing to build a farm in a region where no farms were succeeding.

However, the family would not give up.  They revised their plans and continued to work hard and, within three years, they had re-established themselves in a nearby town:  Nils and Walter were working as labourers on local farms;  Margaret was running the local post-office/shop; Hilda was still at home doing all of the household work; and Annie had passed her entrance exams to study Secondary-school teaching at university.

A year later in 1914, aged seventeen years,  Hilda would leave her parent's home for good and find work, in the city of Adelaide, working as a domestic servant.  This was a common form of employment for lower class women at that time; women with relatively little education and no particular skills or training. 

Working in the city - twelve hour in each day, and six days in each week - young Hilda would have little time to feel lonely or homesick.  At night, however, as she looked up into the starry sky and allowed her gaze to follow the moon as it sailed towards the horizon ... it was then that she would miss her father the most.   



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I will continue with the story of my grandmother's early years in the city of Adelaide, as a young woman, in the next blog:  The years during WW1; working for the first female doctor in Adelaide, Dr Violet Plummer; and meeting her future husband.

But, for now here is the next excerpt from her journal (1948 − 1963) written to my mother, Anne.




HILDA'S JOURNAL


March 25th 1949

The weather is lovely during the day but the nights have been close, it was sultry last night. I didn't sleep well. You have felt the close weather in the evenings and have been glad to get into your sleeveless green striped lawn dress.

I have plenty to do but felt like writing to you first. Housework can be so dreary and lonely at times, although I am never as lonely now as I once was.

The milkman forgot to call this morning and I went over to Mrs Thamm's to ask her if he had called on her.  She showed me her spotless kitchen.  It has just been done.  She has a new gas stove or an old one done up. It is partly enamelled cream and the top silver frosted. I must try the cream enamelling on mine. The silver frost smells so after it is done when the oven is heated. She had stewed sliced peaches in a dish cooling on the table and trombone in another. She gets up very simple little treats for herself, dear old thing. There was lavender perennial aster in a jug on her polished side table. I had a feeling of of surprise at it being allowed there.

It is a nice cool kitchen with its high walls. (How I wish I had an airy kitchen like that).

Phillips' little boy went passed here yelling like mad on his way to school this morning. That nice lady who works at Burks tried to get him to go with her but he wouldn't.  Just yelled louder and looked back at his home calling Mummy then he went on still crying. His father came running up the street a minute or two later after him, a little after that young Mrs Hawke came running up after him too with her apron undone and flying loose. A few minutes later the three came back.  The little boy had stopped crying and they each held a hand of his. Young Mrs H. was speaking kindly to him.  He said he felt sick.


Tuesday March 29th 1949

We had a lovely afternoon last Saturday.  You and I and Dorothy went to the Retreat House to a bit of a fete.  We had a look over the house and garden.  I like Mr Homersham very much. He seems to me a very likable, good man and very sincere, quite without airs I have seen in some of the C. of E. (Church of England) ministers.

I met old Mr and Mrs Head, a quaint old couple. I like them both.

We bought the three orange dogs ornament and a pretty belt for you.

It was rather hot in town but the air there was lovely. I could smell the pine trees. The scent reminded me of my childhood.  We had a lovely walk and tea at a tea-house on the roadside, a very attractive little place.  There were two windows with green and white curtains, mostly green, and a vase of yellow flowers on each window sill.  Further along the road I bought some apples freshly picked from the orchard.

After a nasty day yesterday the weather is lovely fresh and cool today.  We have had some rain.

I got an interesting little book at Myers library yesterday.  It is called 'January and August' by Elizabeth George.  I read 'Two at Daly Waters' a short time ago.  It is by the same author.  I liked it.

Dorothy (nurse trainee) is very tired.  I hope she will be able to stick out her month in the theatres (surgical). She enjoyed the Belair trip and gave us the history of a lot of the houses up there finished and partly finished. A lot of the people built them, themselves. They look well too.


Wednesday  March 30th 1949

Quite cool again.  Sports day for you darling.  Joyce (Mrs Chillew) called in late yesterday afternoon to ask for Ray's address.  She is not as pretty as she used to be but she looks better than when I saw her last.  Her husband does too.

She has a pressure cooker and likes it.

Wednesday afternoon. Just received a letter from Joyce.  When she got home last night she found a letter from Iris and Iris's address is  …

Joyce has a pretty handwriting and writes a nice letter. Iris and family are all well.  You will be home soon dear. I will be glad when you are. Today has been a dreary day.


Friday  April 1st 1949

You stopped home yesterday because you didn't feel well. I was very glad of your company and you enjoyed having a school day home.

It is very cool and cloudy, the evenings are rather cold.  We will soon start our cosy fires that I like so much.

There is nothing much to write about today. I will finish tidying the house now and then do my folding and ironing. Crumbed chops, cabbage and mashed potatoes for tea. I always remember how I enjoyed that for tea once when I was staying at the W.C.A in Carrington street.  It was very nice there. That would be about thirty years ago.  It doesn't seem long since I used to talk about things that happened twenty years ago.  I suppose I'll soon be saying forty years ago.

I have read most of 'January and August'.  I like it.  Some of the characters (most of them in fact) are 'doers'.  Do you know the meaning of that word Lubby (nick name for Anne)?  It is not in the dictionary, and it means someone who is not conventionally correct in various ways. I like the book because it takes you wandering about the country in the far north and nearer the south.  It is refreshing.


Tuesday   April 5th 1949

I met you in Myer's lounge after school yesterday.  I love to see you coming in through the door of the lounge.  After you had an ice cream with pineapple flavour we looked about for shoes for you and bought a very pretty pair black patent with suede bow studded with gold.

I spent most of Sunday husking almonds in the shade of the almond trees, it was restful. You plodded away at homework and at long intervals came down the back to stay a minute or two.  Just as daylight was nearly beating us (we wanted to finish a bag of almonds) you came and set to work with surprising quickness and helped us  finish just in time.  Our dear old trees will soon be bare for a few months and then the lovely miracle of blossom , leaves and almonds will happen again.

You met Dorothy yesterday on North Terrace dear and went to the gardens to have lunch and see dahlias, and you said how lovely they are now.  They should be, about mid April is their peak.

You went to see 'Madame Curie' on Saturday morning and liked it very much.  I like you to see those good pictures.

Goodbye darling until I write again.  I love you very much.

Wednesday  April 6th  1949

Yesterday was too hot, today is warm.  I hope it won't get as hot as yesterday.  Perth has had record hot weather for April.  There is still heat in the old sun for us for a week more (mid April) before the cold weather settles in.  I sheltered the poppies you and Joan planted on Saturday, with newspaper and hessian , from the sun yesterday and mulched them last night. Days are short now.  One misses the sunlight if one wants to water the garden after tea. My amaranthus are growing big in the front flower beds, the perennial aster is still lovely at the back.

Now I have written Allan's order and this little bit to you I will get on with some 'delightful' housework. A good turning out of two bedrooms, general house tidying, washing up and so on and then for a change some 'delightful' mending.  It will take a few cups of tea to get me through this so 'delightful' programme.  How lucky women are who like housework.  Now for a cup of tea.  Cheerio.


Thursday  April 7th 1949

I have spent a good part of the morning in the garden with my big shady hat on, doing odd jobs and picking flowers. 

I love my garden with its hardy perennials, its trees and birds and bees and sunshine.  For its friendly homeliness too. 

I love the way 'Elizabeth' wrote about a garden at the end of her book 'Elizabeth and her German Garden.'  She must have been a real garden lover if ever there was one.

It is a bit cooler today.  You took some money to do Easter shopping.

This last warm weather has made you tired dear, and school work is hard work now.  I am sure a lot of girls do harder work in the secondary schools than they do when they go to work afterwards.


Wednesday  April 13th 1949

The day after tomorrow is Good Friday the 15th April.  Easter is late this year.  The heat is over now thank goodness.  I feel very tired.  We have had fires the last few nights, it has been lovely.  You are tired too dear, but you have stood the summer well.  Better than you used to. 

I booked up for the Murray trip in your August holidays.  I wish it was sooner.  We are both looking forward to it very much.  I will see Bow Hill again.  Just think of it.  How I am looking forward to the restful, lovely days when you sit back and watch the scenery change all the time, and no housework to do.  It sounds like heaven.

You will be home from school soon darling. I will be glad to have you home and after tomorrow four days holiday.  I don't know what I would do without you dear little girl.  Bless you. I love the way you look back at me, when you leave in the mornings, and say 'Be happy.'

The almonds have all been finished and sold.  We made over 10 pounds (money) out of them.  The weather is lovely now. xxxx


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