Mining the Landscape: The Archaeology of Mount Shamrock (Contributions To Global Historical Archaeology) 3031129059, 9783031129056

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Contributions To Global Historical Archaeology

Geraldine Mate

Mining the Landscape The Archaeology of Mount Shamrock

Contributions To Global Historical Archaeology Series Editors Kathryn Sampeck, Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Illinois State University, Normal, USA Luis Symanski, Dept of Anthropology and Archaeology, Universidade Federal de Minas Gerais, Belo Horizonte, Brazil Editorial Board Members Márcia Bezerra de Almeida, Federal University of Para, Belém, Brazil Heather Burke, Flinders University, Adelaide, Australia Tania Manuel Casimiro, Universidade Nova de Lisboa, Lisbon, Portugal Alfredo Gonzales-Ruibal, Institute of Heritage Studies of the Spanish National Research Council, Madrid, Spain Ellen Hsieh, National Tsing Hua University, Hsinchu, Taiwan Laura Ng, Grinnell College, Grinnell, USA Innocent Pikirayi, University of Pretoria, Pretoria, South Africa Maria Ximena Senatore, University of Buenos Aires, Viamonte, Argentina Tsim Schneider, University of California, Santa Cruz, California, USA

Historical archaeologists conduct research in every region of the globe, in Latin America, Asia, the Pacific, Africa, and Europe. Historical archaeology is one of the most rapidly expanding archaeological fields, offering a breathtaking range of settings and problems as well as substantial new insights in archaeological methods and theory. In light of this burgeoning interest, this book series is designed as a venue for works that focus on historical archaeology throughout the world. Historical archaeology is defined here as the archaeology of the post-1415 (or modern) era rather than as a methodology. This global reach emphasizes crucial themes in anthropology and history of the modern era, such as slavery, gender, race, industrialization, consumerism, and urbanism. The contemporary relevance of historical archaeology is shown in its longstanding focus on dynamics of repression, oppression, violence, and authoritarianism as well as heritage, memory, and the political uses of the past. Historical archaeological studies thus offer powerful perspectives for understanding pivotal of the past and today. The series aims for original scholarship ranging from local to global contexts, intersectional issues, and theoretical-methodological contributions. Book proposals and complete manuscripts of 200 or more pages are welcome. Original monographs will be peer reviewed. Edited volumes and conference proceedings will be considered provided that the chapters are individually refereed. Initial proposals can be sent to the Publishing Editor. Proposals should include: • • • •

A short synopsis of the work or the introduction chapter The proposed Table of Contents The CV of the lead author(s) If available: one sample chapter

We aim to make a first decision within 1 month of submission. In case of a positive first decision the work will be provisionally contracted: the final decision about publication will depend upon the result of the anonymous peer review of the complete manuscript. We aim to have the complete work peer-reviewed within 3 months of submission. For more information, please contact the Publishing Editor.

Geraldine Mate

Mining the Landscape The Archaeology of Mount Shamrock

Geraldine Mate Cultures and Histories Program Queensland Museum Network Brisbane, QLD, Australia

ISSN 1574-0439 Contributions To Global Historical Archaeology ISBN 978-3-031-12905-6    ISBN 978-3-031-12906-3 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-12906-3 © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Ebony Shamrock button, found in the township of Mount Shamrock during archaeological survey. Photograph, Geoff Thompson, Queensland Museum

Preface

Mining the Landscape offers a fresh approach to the historical archaeology of industry, using landscape as a framework for the investigation of a mining settlement. It marries the study of the social with the industrial reality of mining towns, acknowledging the role of landscape in framing people’s understanding of their everyday world. In particular, it examines how people made—created, constructed and understood—their landscape in the gold mining town of Mount Shamrock, in Queensland, Australia, settled in the second half of the nineteenth century. This work examines social influences in the establishment and layout of Mount Shamrock, identifying significant elements in the construction of the physical and social landscape of the residents. It considers how people created landscapes of meaning and attachment as they settled in the area and how this meaning was embedded in the landscape through movement, narrative and experiences. The influence of technologies on the social landscape the residents constructed and lived in and, conversely, social influences on the way mining and processing were carried out are analysed. Archaeological survey, historical documentation, maps, photographs and experiential reading were used to examine the remnants of Mount Shamrock. These data reveal that there was a constructed landscape at Mount Shamrock with a degree of structuring, established by spatial arrangement and location of particular features in the landscape. People’s social relationships were embedded in landscape, for example with kinship networks represented in the proximity of properties. However, there was also evidence of social mobility within the social landscape of the settlement, the context of Mount Shamrock as a goldmining town, situated in nineteenth-­ century Queensland facilitating that mobility. Residents initially perceived their landscape as wilderness—quickly transforming the landscape into something they could know and understand. They also regarded the landscape as a resource—they conceptualised it as such, they promoted it that way and they structured it that way—as a mining landscape that was experienced in everyday activity and even through sensory perceptions. The influence of technology on the social hierarchy of Mount Shamrock was clear; technology was integral to how the residents operated and how they perceived the social vii

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landscape. Further, analysis also demonstrated the role social influences played in the adoption of particular types of technology. The analysis of the landscapes of Mount Shamrock shows both the applicability of a landscape framework to historical archaeology and the versatility and depth of interpretation that can be gained by considering landscapes as a whole. Further, it is evident that industry and settlement are integrally linked, and all part of a meaningful and engaged landscape. At Mount Shamrock, gold mining was all pervasive in people’s perceptions of the landscape, part of the lived experience, and it is clear that the ‘social’ of everyday life was indeed to be found in the ‘industrial’. Brisbane, QLD, Australia

Geraldine Mate

Acknowledgements

Many colleagues, community members and volunteers contributed to this piece of work, whether through thoughtful readings of early versions or hard work in the heat and flies of Mount Shamrock. Special acknowledgements are due to Associate Professor Jon Prangnell and Professor Ian Lilley. To all the field volunteers who withstood the heat, the flies and the Patsy Cline albums—thank you for all your hard work: Jo Bowman, Kirsten Bradley, Nick Burrell, Cameo Dalley, Anna Dwyer, Clair Harris, Greg Maiden, Teagan Miller, Neil Muirhead, Karen Murphy, Steve Nichols, Tim Pulsford, Betty Ridge, Kevin Ridge, Linda Terry, Cass Venn and Trudie White. I would also like to thank Celmara Pocock, Judy Powell and Chantal Knowles for their encouragement and support. I’d like to extend my particular thanks to the landholders of Mount Shamrock, Mr and Mrs Jeff Berrie, for their kind permission to access their land. Finally I would like to thank my family, without whose encouragement and support I would not have been able to even attempt this undertaking: my parents Betty and Barry Ridge; my sister in sense if not fact, Karen Murphy; my children Rachel and Rohan; and my ever-patient and supportive husband Michael. Thank you for all that you have done.

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Contents

1

 The Landscapes of Nineteenth Century Gold Mining��������������������������    1 Background������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    2 The Archaeology of Mining����������������������������������������������������������������������    4 “Industrial” Landscapes ������������������������������������������������������������������������    5 Mining Communities and Networks������������������������������������������������������    8 Social Aspects of Technology����������������������������������������������������������������   10 Perspectives of Landscapes������������������������������������������������������������������������   13 Finding the Social in the Industrial������������������������������������������������������������   15 Summary����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   16 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   17

2

 Landscapes, Places and Parts ����������������������������������������������������������������   23 Structuring of Space and Place������������������������������������������������������������������   24 Landscapes: Meaning, Identity, Power������������������������������������������������������   26 Creation of Meaning, Attachment and Memory������������������������������������   29 Mutual Constitution ������������������������������������������������������������������������������   32 Structure and Agency ����������������������������������������������������������������������������   34 World View, Multivocality and Power ��������������������������������������������������   36 Scale������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   37 Landscapes in Historical Archaeology������������������������������������������������������   39 Landscapes of Power ����������������������������������������������������������������������������   39 Landscapes of Identity ��������������������������������������������������������������������������   41 Landscapes of Industry��������������������������������������������������������������������������   42 Summary����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   43 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   44

3

 Colonial Mining: A Global Historical Context��������������������������������������   51 Global Gold Rushes ����������������������������������������������������������������������������������   51 Economic Imperative and Impact����������������������������������������������������������   53 Movement of People������������������������������������������������������������������������������   55 Mining in Nineteenth Century Queensland ����������������������������������������������   56 Colonialism and Race Relations������������������������������������������������������������   57 xi

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Exploration for Gold������������������������������������������������������������������������������   59 Access and Codification of Land ����������������������������������������������������������   66 Politics, Economics and Class ��������������������������������������������������������������   69 Mining Legislation in Queensland��������������������������������������������������������   72 Mining in the Burnett��������������������������������������������������������������������������������   73 Summary����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   78 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   78 4

Surveying the Past������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   83 Approaches to an Archaeology of Landscapes������������������������������������������   83 Methodology������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   84 Identity ��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   87 Spatial Relationships������������������������������������������������������������������������������   88 Meaning ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   89 Linking Processes and Social Landscapes for an Industrial Township������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   91 The Archaeological Evidence��������������������������������������������������������������������   92 Township Area ��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   93 Mining and Processing Areas����������������������������������������������������������������   96 Site Formation Processes ����������������������������������������������������������������������   98 Summary����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   99 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   99

5

The History of Mount Shamrock: Four Miles from Degilbo Head Station ��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  103 The Discovery of Gold������������������������������������������������������������������������������  104 The Making of a Town������������������������������������������������������������������������������  106 The Residents of Mount Shamrock������������������������������������������������������������  110 School and Sunday School—Education and Religion������������������������������  114 Links to Paradise����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  121 Mining at Mount Shamrock ����������������������������������������������������������������������  124 The Rise and Fall of Mount Shamrock������������������������������������������������������  132 Summary����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  137 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  138

6

The Landscape of Mount Shamrock: A “Settled and Business Like Aspect” ��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  141 Social Construction of Identity������������������������������������������������������������������  142 Social Landscape ����������������������������������������������������������������������������������  142 Domestic/Household Material Culture and Social Identity ������������������  145 Social Mobility��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  150 Structuring of Space����������������������������������������������������������������������������������  152 Homestead Leases, Land and Enclosure������������������������������������������������  155 Ethnicity������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  157 Movement and Permanence in the Landscape������������������������������������������  159 The Colonial Framework and Its Influence on Social Landscape ������������  161 Summary����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  163 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  164

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 Scale, Meaning, Experience: Exploring Landscapes����������������������������  167 Local Landscape����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  168 Landscape of Meaning������������������������������������������������������������������������������  172 Giving and Taking Meaning in the Landscape��������������������������������������  172 Wilderness����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  177 Different Understandings����������������������������������������������������������������������  180 Scales of Landscape����������������������������������������������������������������������������������  181 Experiencing the Landscape����������������������������������������������������������������������  186 Summary����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  190 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  191

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 The Industry of Mount Shamrock: A Mine of Great Promise������������  193 Social Influences on Industrial Methods and Technologies Used��������������  194 Mining����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  194 Mineral Processing��������������������������������������������������������������������������������  196 Chemical Treatments ����������������������������������������������������������������������������  200 The Role of Mining Administration������������������������������������������������������  206 Mount Shamrock—A Company Town?����������������������������������������������������  207 Mount Shamrock Gold Mining and Quartz Crushing Company ����������  208 Tribute Miners����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  210 The Mining Landscape������������������������������������������������������������������������������  211 Environment and the Physical Landscape���������������������������������������������  212 A Sensory Landscape����������������������������������������������������������������������������  215 Networks and Paths��������������������������������������������������������������������������������  216 Global, Political and Economic Landscape ������������������������������������������  219 Summary����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  223 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  224

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 Towards a Social Landscape of Industry ����������������������������������������������  227 Landscapes of Mount Shamrock����������������������������������������������������������������  227 Marriage of Industrial and Domestic ��������������������������������������������������������  229 Conclusion ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  231 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  232

Glossary of Terms��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  233 Appendix A ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  235 Appendix B ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  239 Sources��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  243 References Cited����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  245 Index������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  259

Abbreviations

ARDM BC GSQ MC MHL QGG QGMJ QSA WBBN

Annual Report for the Department of Mines Brisbane Courier Geological Survey of Queensland Maryborough Chronicle Miners Homestead Lease Queensland Government Gazette Queensland Government Mining Journal Queensland State Archives Wide Bay and Burnett News

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List of Figures

Fig. 1.1 Map showing location of Mount Shamrock and other places mentioned in the text����������������������������������������������������������    3 Fig. 3.1 Mining places in Queensland��������������������������������������������������������   61 Fig. 3.2 Schematic flowchart of mineral processing of gold����������������������   63 Fig. 3.3 Extract from map of Upper Burnett Pastoral Runs showing the division of the landscape c. 1878 (Unsettled pastoral District of Burnett. Department of Natural Resources 1998)���������������������������������������   67 Fig. 3.4 Map of mining centres in the Upper Burnett���������������������������������   74 Fig. 4.1 Plan of Mount Shamrock showing Miners Homestead Leases, Gold Mining leases, Reserves and roads and tracks in 1923. Based on Lot on Plan (Department of Mines CK1033)����������������   94 Fig. 4.2 Distribution of features across survey area of town flat����������������   95 Fig. 4.3 Distribution of industrial remnants across Mount Shamrock. The names of the various features reflect names used in archival documents and maps and contemporary newspaper articles��������������������������������������������������������������������������   97 Fig. 5.1 Sketch map of Mining Leases in July1887 (Based on illustration in Maryborough Chronicle 27 July 1887, plan reproduced by Kate Quirk). The remains of at least nine of mine shafts were located in the archaeological survey of Mount Shamrock�������������������������  105 Fig. 5.2 Distribution of features with respect to Miners Homestead Leases, related to leaseholders�����������������������������������  109 Fig. 5.3 Remnant palm tree and hoop pine on town flat at Mount Shamrock�����������������������������������������������������������������������  109

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List of Figures

Fig. 5.4 Backstamps: (a) Ridgeways, Stoke on Trent 1880 1890; (b) Grindley, Stafford 1891–1925; (c) Clementson Brothers 1867–1880; (d) …WARE, unknown; (e) … LOW, Unknown; (f) ROY…, unknown���������������������������������������������������������������������  111 Fig. 5.5 (a) Shamrock button and (b) Glass bead���������������������������������������  111 Fig. 5.6 (a) Harmonica reed plate (b) Singer sewing machine manufacturer’s plate����������������������������������������������������������������������  112 Fig. 5.7 Pipe fragments ������������������������������������������������������������������������������  112 Fig. 5.8 Mount Shamrock Post Office, the Mortleman sisters standing outside (John Oxley Library, Image No 196271)��������������������������  113 Fig. 5.9 Proposed location of school, also showing location of Police Station, Mine Manager’s House, Water Reserve, Post Office, Hotel and tents (QSA 15567)������������������������������������  116 Fig. 5.10 Mount Shamrock school ca 1889 (John Oxley Library, Image No 18010)���������������������������������������������������������������������������  117 Fig. 5.11 Plan and elevation drawing of Mount Shamrock school c1891 (left) and school house moved from Paradise in 1906 (QSA 15567)���������������������������������������������������������������������������������  117 Fig. 5.12 School attendance 1886–1935 (Composed from School Returns 1890–1935) (QSA 10341)������������������������������������������������  118 Fig. 5.13 Mount Shamrock Schoolboy Cricket Team (John Oxley Library)���������������������������������������������������������������������  119 Fig. 5.14 Elsie Bilbrough and her class outside Mount Shamrock School 1891 (John Oxley Library, Image No 196272)�����������������  120 Fig. 5.15 Paradise Courthouse and main street (inset) (John Oxley Library, Image No 67269)�������������������������������������������������������������  121 Fig. 5.16 Mount Shamrock open cut mine showing tunnels heading southwest and east�������������������������������������������������������������������������  125 Fig. 5.17 Main Haul Tunnel heading east into Mount Shamrock�����������������  126 Fig. 5.18 First battery area with stone retort furnace (Fig. 5.19), rectangular earthworks and associated structural remnants, interpreted as the site of the stamper battery. There are also indications of a building suggested as the Mine Manager’s house in archival evidence�������������������������������������������������������������  127 Fig. 5.19 Retorting Furnace near location of first stamper battery���������������  128 Fig. 5.20 Tramline to Mount Shamrock Mill (Photo courtesy of Biggenden Historical Society)��������������������������������������������������  129 Fig. 5.21 Remnants in Upper Industrial area—Plan drawing and section A-A (facing north). These are the most substantial extant remains at Mount Shamrock. These are located on the hillside southeast of the main shaft. (See Appendix B for details of Feature numbers [F11a,b etc])�����  131 Fig. 5.22 Cornish Boiler, located in upper processing area at Mount Shamrock�����������������������������������������������������������������������  132

List of Figures

xix

Fig. 5.23 Deep Creek or Chowey Railway Bridge under construction, 1905 (John Oxley Library, Image No API-073-0001-0008)���������  134 Fig. 5.24 Proposed Town reserve, situated within Goldfield reserve, as recommended by Mining Warden in 1914 (QSA 275198)�������  135 Fig. 5.25 Mount Shamrock township 1930s. (Photo courtesy of Biggenden Historical Society)��������������������������������������������������  136 Fig. 6.1 Town Plan showing adjacent dwellings within family and fictive kin groups��������������������������������������������������������������������  144 Fig. 6.2 Ceramic artefacts: (a) Blue Banded; (b–d) decorative transfer printed; (e) porcelain / bone china cup; (f) raised moulded decoration; (g) painted porcelain; (h) porcelain / bone china egg cup������������������������������������������������  146 Fig. 6.3 Berrie’s Hotel, c 1905 (John Oxley Library, Image No 21594)���������������������������������������������������������������������������  148 Fig. 6.4 Mount Shamrock views 1909, Bayntun brothers’ residence on left (arrow), Harman’s Blacksmith in centre and cottage on right (not under lease). Occupied at different times by Mann’s, Baker’s and Denzler’s (John Oxley Library, Image No 101262)�������������������������������������������������������������������������  150 Fig. 7.1 Mount Shamrock township, 1903. The school is just visible above trees at centre right above white building in middle distance (John Oxley Library, Image No 188835)������������������������  168 Fig. 7.2 Detail from image of Mount Shamrock township, 1908. A variety of house types and fencing styles are identifiable. School is highly visible in the middle of the picture above the houses. Assembly room is the large building on the town flat, behind main street. (State Library of Queensland Image No 101260)�������������������������������������������������  169 Fig. 7.3 Mount Shamrock township, 1911. The degree of clearing is obvious. The presence of white painted houses and verandas contrasts with wooden structures. Outbuildings are also clearly visible (Dunstan 1911)�������������������  170 Fig. 7.4 Mount Shamrock Hotel 1890 (John Oxley Library, Image No 384)�������������������������������������������������������������������������������  170 Fig. 7.5 Miners Homestead Leases related to property owners, 1902 (Department of Mines, MP13500)���������������������������������������  171 Fig. 7.6 Local landscape of Mount Shamrock including town, mine and surrounding features in the landscape (composed from QSA 628119, QSA 618781, QSA 112494, QSA 212646, Department of Mines CK1033)������������������������������  182 Fig. 7.7 Locale Drawing, showing local goldfields, townships and other places (composed from QSA 628119, QSA 618781, QSA 112494, QSA 212646)�����������������������������������  183

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List of Figures

Fig. 7.8 Graphical representation of landscape spheres of interaction, where relational networks rather than geographic distance is the primary mediator for relative conceptual proximity������������  186 Fig. 7.9 Mine hill as viewed from the town flat, note Hoop Pine in middle foreground, located on Pierce Williams’ property��������  187 Fig. 8.1 Flow diagram of initial mineral processing������������������������������������� 198 Fig. 8.2 Flow diagram of 1890s mineral processing with chlorination treatment������������������������������������������������������������  199 Fig. 8.3 Flow diagram of 1900s mineral processing with in-line cyanide treatment���������������������������������������������������������������������������  201 Fig. 8.4 In-line cyanide tanks, Upper Processing Area�������������������������������  202 Fig. 8.5 Cyanide tanks on creek—boiler on right and tanks and rail at left, feeder tank centre right. (Photo courtesy of Biggenden Historical Society)�������������������������������������������������������������������������  204 Fig. 8.6 Miners and cyanide operators at Mount Shamrock: C. Parker, B. Parry, E. Byrne, W.Ivey, W. Bow, G. Palmer. (Photo courtesy of Biggenden Historical Society)������������������������  204 Fig. 8.7 Underground landscape of Mount Shamrock (Ball 1901)�������������  213 Fig. 8.8 Geological sketch of Mount Shamrock showing township, mine site and main track to mine across Didcot Creek (centre of drawing) (Rands, in Ball 1901)�������������������������������������  218 Fig. 8.9 Mount Shamrock workings, c 1908. This postcard was used for the Franco-British Exhibition in London in 1908. The reverse side states: “The Value of gold obtained in Queensland during 1906 was £2,313,464” (Robert MacPherson Gift, John Oxley Library)����������������������������  220

List of Tables

Table 4.1 Summary table of artefact material types and quantities����������������   95 Table 5.1 Original petitioners for establishment of school, presented January 1889 (QSA 15567)������������������������������������������������������������  115 Table 5.2 Teaching staff at Mount Shamrock (compiled from QSA 15567, QSA 987867, QSA 987876-QSA987880)����������������  119 Table 5.3 Gold Production at Mount Shamrock���������������������������������������������  123 Table 5.4 Comparative Gold Production for Gympie, Charters Towers, Palmer River and Mount Shamrock�����������������������������������������������  133 Table 8.1 Mining Wardens servicing Mount Shamrock���������������������������������  206

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Chapter 1

The Landscapes of Nineteenth Century Gold Mining

A mine by very definition seems planted in place, in the ground, its location set by the self-same virtue that is being exploited—a mineral deposit. And yet, a mine is much more than a discrete, bounded entity. Applying cultural landscapes as a framework offers a means to consider the mining beyond the mine. Contemplation of mining landscapes brings together a myriad of elements, incorporating place, people and production. It can encompass networks of supply, impacts on local resources and environments, and the settlements that enfold communities and individuals. A landscape approach brings recognition of scales from global to local at play; and advances an avenue to recognise meaning in place. Mining the Landscape explores issues of the creation and understanding of the cultural landscape in the Australian mining township of Mount Shamrock, settled in the nineteenth century. It examines the way people moving into an area sparsely occupied and used by European settlers, understood, changed and created meaning in their landscape. An integral part of this examination is the analysis of social identity as reflected in the use of landscape, townscape, dwellings, material culture and technology. There is no doubt that the distribution of industrial remnants is an important facet of research into historic mining, and can provide insight into the nature of mining operations and the technologies employed but this approach can neglect those involved in mining. The archaeology of mining towns has now moved beyond an industrial focus to recognition of social aspects of mining—recognition that people, not just equipment, were part of a mining enterprise—revealing a more nuanced view of resource extraction. Investigations of mining towns undertaken more recently have focused on households and dwellings, although there still appears to be a dichotomy between industrial/technology-based studies and social/household-­ based studies. This division overlooks the integration of home and livelihood. For those that lived and worked in mining towns, the mine was their reason for being there—it provided livelihood, it was pervasive in their everyday environment, and was the setting for how they lived, how they perceived themselves and framed their

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 G. Mate, Mining the Landscape, Contributions To Global Historical Archaeology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-12906-3_1

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everyday domestic, occupational and social activities. The landscapes of mines and their associated settlements should be understood as integrated in order to capture this all-encompassing experience.

Background Mount Shamrock was located in the Upper Burnett district of Queensland (Fig. 1.1) in a region situated west of the modern day cities of Maryborough and Bundaberg and encompassing the upper reaches of the Burnett River. The township of Mount Shamrock was a late nineteenth and early twentieth century gold-mining town with a population of around 250 at its zenith. The town no longer exists, today presenting as empty cattle paddocks. Europeans settled in the region from the 1840s onwards, firstly as a result of the expansion of pastoralism, and later with the establishment of mines and the resumption of land for agricultural selection. Mount Shamrock was one of 30 mining settlements in the area, and the extended Upper Burnett region encompassed 10 of over 100 goldfields established in Queensland in the second half of the nineteenth century. By the late nineteenth century, mining was second only to agriculture as an occupation in the region (Census of the Colony of Queensland 1886/1891). Gold mining in the area resulted in the founding of towns and led to the establishment of networks between towns and smaller settlements, including the gradual provision of postal, coach, railway and telegraph services. Along with many other small settlements in Queensland, the beginnings of Mount Shamrock was based on the discovery of gold. Although the township lasted approximately 50  years, it was only a modest success in mining terms. Across Queensland in the second half of the nineteenth century, a number of larger gold mining fields were established, including the major goldfields of Charters Towers, Mount Morgan and the Palmer River which were variously successful, long term and rush goldfields. Mount Shamrock was several orders of magnitude smaller than these large fields in terms of gold productivity, however it was emblematic of the many hundreds of smaller gold field townships that were established in the gold rush “epoch” at that time across the world. In Queensland, gold mining was one element of colonial initiatives of resource exploitation as a means of creating wealth, an approach that also incorporated the use of land for pastoralism and agriculture, and the harvesting of timber. The relative preservation of the archaeological record at Mount Shamrock provides an excellent basis for a case study to understand the development and nature of small-scale mining towns in the nineteenth century in Queensland. It builds locally on previous archaeological work undertaken at Paradise (Prangnell et  al. 2002), a nineteenth century mining settlement approximately 10 km from Mount Shamrock. The investigation of the mining landscape of Mount Shamrock presents an opportunity to explore the nexus between global and local that was a feature of colonialism in Australia. While Mount Shamrock was part of a mining industry, seen as a key economic strategy for the colony, it was also a small

Background

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Fig. 1.1  Map showing location of Mount Shamrock and other places mentioned in the text

settlement—situated in a colonial milieu and yet existing in the everyday of domestic and industrial life of a relatively quiet backwater of the colony. Further, it was the scene of a colonialisation of cultural beliefs and social practices brought with Europeans settling in Mount Shamrock.

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Mining has played (and continues to hold) an important role in the state of Queensland’s history. Furthermore the historical context and physical circumstances of mining in Queensland was discernibly different to those encountered in other states of Australia, particularly Victoria and New South Wales. Recognition that global interpretations can “mask diversity of experience” (Gilchrist 2005:332–333), and denies “pluralism and poly-vocality” (Lawrence 2003:3) argues for the opportunity provided by exploring the specifics of a small mining town in Queensland. This research adds another layer to the understanding of historical mining in Australia, and presents another tile in the mosaic of diverse mining experiences.

The Archaeology of Mining The archaeology of mining traditionally falls under the umbrella of industrial archaeology. However, the dichotomy between industrial archaeology and other aspects of historical archaeology has been the subject of debate between a number of researchers (for example see Barker and Cranstone 2004; Casella 2005; Palmer and Neaverson 1998). These divisions are eroding as industrial archaeology embraces more socially centred approaches in order to understand the livelihood of people working in industry (Prangnell et al. 2020). The bridging of the gap between theory and practice in industrial archaeology has been achieved by acknowledging the context of industrial archaeology in the “Modern Era”, with emphasis on a need to recognise social as well as economic and technological significance (Casella 2005; Cranstone 2005; Palmer 2005; Palmer and Orange 2016). At its most basic level, people carry out the work of industry: and therefore, the myriad of theoretical viewpoints in historical archaeology are applicable to the archaeology of industry. Differences of class, gender, ethnicity, and themes of labour, power and culture contact (Hall and Silliman 2006; Lawrence and Davies 2011) are all relevant in the industrial arena. Whatever the nature and location of industrial remnants, in the context of archaeological investigations, examinations of industry can give weight to the role of people. There are a number of ways this can be achieved. As a starting point, we can engage with the themes proposed by researchers such as Casella (2005) and Hall and Silliman (2001). The provision, constitution and social operation of industrial communities are emphasised in social approaches to industry. Considerations of social influences on the adoption and use of technology also bring in the people. Landscape perspectives give an opportunity for such an engagement through recognition of human industrial activity and people’s impact both physically and conceptually on the land. Further, approaches can include spheres of activity, social networks, structuring of space in relation to cultural practices and construction of identity, together with considerations of how these elements interact.

The Archaeology of Mining

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Research on historical gold mining across Australia and New Zealand has largely provided analyses based on historical, economic, environmental and technological accounts. Economic analyses have emphasised the profitability of mining ventures and the role of mines in the economy. Regional surveys of mining areas have often focused on cataloguing extant building and machinery remnants for a variety of mine types, and examinations of community networks. Technological examinations have included the analysis of the processing and mining methods, considering the types of equipment used, surveying the archaeological remnants of those processes and assessments of the relative state of preservation. However, more recent investigations of mining in Australia have embraced social influences.

“Industrial” Landscapes Investigations into industrial landscapes of mining in the past have been predominantly situated in terms of mining communities, networks and technology with emphasis placed on mineral resources, processing areas, route-ways and sources of supplies, and on chronologies of use. While these are important parts of the investigation of industry, there is often a distinction made between communities and networks (people) and industries (technology). This division is an ongoing shortcoming of analyses, particularly evident when people are recognised as an integral part of the industrial landscape—people are needed to extract resources, to run machines and to transport the products of these endeavours to their market. For resource driven communities and company towns, where the embeddedness of people in industry is further heightened by their residence at or near the site of work, this is especially so. As Newman (2004:25) explains, “industry was responsible for the creation of more new settlements and the modification of existing ones than any other process in the post-medieval period”. There is, therefore, little to be gained by separating these spheres into industrial (machines) and historical (settlement) archaeology. As will be explored in the next chapter, landscape is a context for human behaviour; in the nineteenth century it was an integral part of people’s lived experience, and was elemental in construction of their identity. If a landscape is composed of movements, activities, narratives and events that occurred there, then industry is merely another facet of the landscape—not distinct but part of a continuum—albeit a place of different activities with remnants that often appear as a dominant feature. Industrial landscapes cannot be artificially separated from their associated settlements; landscapes are contextually composed and industry is the context of these places. Marilyn Palmer (2004:2) has defined landscape as “the physical manifestation of changes wrought by man [humans] in both space and time”. One fundamental shortcoming of this definition is the implication that industrial landscapes are only physically composed. Landscapes also have a perceptual trait that is a crucial part of

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people’s understanding, use and feelings about any particular place or landscape. This is no less marked for industrial landscapes than for any other landscape. A visit to an operating industrial site quickly demonstrates that, along with the imposing physical structures and pervasive assaults of noise and smell, stories of accidents, events, toil and conflict add to the tapestry of place. What is important to take from Palmer’s definition is the idea that industrial landscapes are palimpsest: that is, they alter through space and time with layered evidence of activity, the more recent activity obscuring the older. Just as landscapes of settlements alter in scale and content through time, so do the elements of landscapes associated with industrial activity. Some evidence of earlier phases might remain and, although changing in scale, they remain part of the known landscape as a whole. Another element of this change through time is that the different strata of a landscape may offer or be composed by different meanings or “views” in time. In Australia, a number of landscape based studies for mining related sites have been undertaken, although these analyses predominantly focus on environmental and regional studies examining distribution of sites across a landscape (e.g. Hill 1998; Lennon 1997; McGowan 1992; Sims 2001). Some studies have reflected on the physical changes wrought on the land, focussing on environmental change. For example, Barry McGowan (2001:86–96) examined the environmental effects of alluvial mining methods (such as erosion, silting, and pollution of water). Changed landscapes as a result of the effects of deforestation and the working and the construction of dams and races (e.g. Lawrence et al. 2017) are other elements of environmental change. Most particularly, Lawrence and Davies (2019) have recently presented analysis of the extensive impact industrial mining can have, examining the widespread geomorphological impact of mine waste and water across an extensive landscape in Victoria. Environmental and physical changes greatly alter the landscape and analysis of these is important to understanding the sequence and impact of mining in a location (Lawrence 2004:74). The remnant landscapes are as much a source of information about industrial practices as the industrial sites themselves. In Queensland for example, Edgar (2014) has emphasised the landscapes of water, together with mobility of physical technology and landscapes of authority as they pertained to access to resources. Lawrence (2004:57) also recognised the importance of landscape studies in focussing on the examination of networks and settlements beyond the industrial site and a wider landscape-focused approach has similarly been recognised elsewhere (Branton 2009; Cassels and Stachiw 2005; David and Thomas 2016; Hardesty 2003; McGowan 2001; Palmer 2004:2). Yet there are other elements of mining landscapes that influence people and that people in turn influence. Consideration of the location of industrial remnants in a landscape, the proximity of processing equipment to towns and the visibility of industry, may allow examination of symbolic and social meaning of industrial structures to the people associated with the industry or settlement. These can be examined together with assessments of the physical environment (noises, smell, dust, movement) that composes the lived experience of an industrial landscape (Riddett

The Archaeology of Mining

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1995:17). In part because of focus on industrial components in cultural heritage, the “monuments” to industry have been highlighted as important elements of industrial landscapes. This emphasis can be considered a result of the prominence of these features in the landscape and the nature of the monuments as key places for industrial activities, such emphasis having a positive impact in focussing attention on the heritage of industry. However, there are also opportunities to distil social meaning from these monuments beyond sheer size—for example monumentality as a facet of power and prestige in the landscape (Del Pozo and Gonzalez 2012; Lawrence 2005:285; Palmer and Neaverson 1998:5; Symonds 2005:47; Thomas 1993:28–32). Anyone who has lived in the industrial cities of the mid-late twentieth century would recognise the monumental impact of features such as blast furnaces in the landscape—heavily imbued with meaning, a meaning that is dependant on one’s personal, social, economic, and political context. These elements constitute forms of power and control, the ability to construct being a manifestation of power through the exhibition of wealth and status. Palmer (2004:2) argued that landscape is best applied to the archaeology of industry to establish technological interrelationships between elements and reveal industrial organisation, influenced by land ownership and social custom. While this is true, other aspects of sociality and ideology can also be revealed through industrial landscapes. The geographical distribution of settlements, buildings and structures on mining landscapes reflect a combination of physical determinants and cultural concepts of settlement and community (Hardesty 2003:92). Further to this, social influences such as acceptable locations of industrial processes, and the relationships between industry and settlement—for example, whether they were integrated or separate—add another dimension to understandings of underlying cultural mores. Another element of industrial landscapes is that of changing understandings. Understandings of resource-related industrial landscapes, particularly mining landscapes, are predicated on the presence of the resource being extracted. Nonetheless, these understandings may change through time, just as the physical remnants change spatially and temporally, so can the understanding of the nature of an ore-body or meanings associated with these landscapes. As David (2002:33) commented, “as preunderstandings change, so do our relationships with places. The way we use and relate to places—the way we live in the landscape—also changes”. European settlers in Australia regarded the land as a resource—to be acquired, used, mined, timber cut from the trees on it, and so on—this is a particularly capitalist view of the land (e.g. Knapp 1998; Strang 1999). The way they regarded place, their pre-­ understanding, was based on their cultural understanding of the world and informed the way they related to the landscape. However, as people created industrial landscapes—saw-mills and mines—their views of these landscapes would have altered. For nineteenth century resource extraction in Queensland, one particular aspect of the alteration of, and engagement with, the landscape was the creation of residences associated with the industry. For mining ventures, the presence of settlements was a clear feature of the landscape of industry.

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Mining Communities and Networks Examination of the social landscapes of communities provides one facet of the interpretation of mining. Shackel and Palus (2006:828) suggested that it is possible to “learn more and different things about working people and working life by looking at the places where they lived in addition to the spaces where they labored”. Their considerations were focused on domestic sites in industrial towns and they argued that archaeologies of daily life of urban labourers can inform our understanding of “modern subjects whose lives were managed to create a labor force or generate power in a Foucaultian sense” (Shackel and Palus 2006:828). They examined themes of insurgency, struggle, experimentation and agency in order to find futures that would be alternatives to state and capitalist directed interests. Metheny (2007), examining the company town of Helvetia, emphasises the agency of workers in a mining community, and the role of negotiations of place and constructions of identity to create a living environment within company controlled structures. Work in the United Kingdom appears to have focused more specifically on the industrial revolution, with Palmer (2005:67) for example examining strategies of resistance to factory-based production, showing that people retained control of their labour resource through continued weight given to domestic modes of production (outwork). Casella (2005) investigated “the transformative roles in industrialization…on working class life in rural northern England” (Casella 2005:11). She focused her examination on households, but contextualised the study within the livelihood of mining (Casella and Croucher 2010). Emphasis on domestic as well as industrial places in mining settlements is illuminating not only for company run towns but for a range of industry-related settlements. In the nineteenth- and early twentieth-century mining towns of Australia, there were different social, economic and political contexts to those encountered in company towns in America or in the industrial towns and cities of Britain. In many instances, context centred more on individual or small group participation, and understandings and interactions with capitalism were based on industrial activity while engaging in a global market economy. These places can also be considered in terms of the class or status of miners—not only how they were regarded by others but their own perception of class, their own beliefs of freedom of choice, relative wealth, their religious beliefs and their own ideas about their position in a small mining community. Furthermore, gold mining may have allowed people to “reinvent” themselves, particularly with regard to status (see Wurst (2006) for discussion about the relationships between class and status). This new status might be manifested in the material culture used (Quirk 2007) or by the type and presentation of residential dwellings. Although Bell (1998:27) suggested that the “fabric and form of mining settlements can be attributed variously to economic, ethnic or cultural causes”, other writers have regarded the fabric and form of settlement as another vehicle for individuals to construct their identity (see Burke 1999 for example). In Australia, Susan Lawrence’s research (Lawrence 1995, 2000) at Dolly’s Creek showed how residents of mining towns “constructed their domestic world”

The Archaeology of Mining

9

(Lawrence 2000:127), finding that some items of special value were kept in order to construct an appearance of cultural respectability (Lawrence 2000:179). She further considered the part men and women played, together and separately, in making the social landscape of a mid-nineteenth century gold-mining township, including the construction of feminine identity (Lawrence 1998a, b) and the domestic environment and day-to-day life for women on the goldfields (Lawrence 1999). Using a different approach to community, McGowan’s (1992) examination of the gold-­ mining settlements around Shoalhaven in New South Wales provided evidence of a network of mining communities. In Queensland, Prangnell et al. (2005) illustrated the variety of social interactions and the range of material culture used by a range of residents of the mining town of Paradise in the late nineteenth century. Quirk (2007) also examined the use of gentility by the residents as a social strategy for surviving the challenges of life on a goldfield. The research by Prangnell et  al. and Quirk focused on the domestic sphere of a mining settlement. However, it is possible to go beyond the township itself to consider an integrated picture of the two seemingly disparate areas of settlement and industry, acknowledging the relationship between mines and homes through cultural landscapes. While mining communities can be settled or more transient, temporary and ephemeral mining camps can still by composed of a coherent group, Douglass (1998) arguing that many create a community without locus. No matter what form a community took, the industrial context was a key factor in the lives of everyone in a mining community—miners, owners and labourers were linked to the mine. In addition, a large number of people would have been employed in support work for the mine, work such as providing timber for construction or the firing of furnaces and boilers, and undertaking larger construction work as a casual labour force. Even if an individual did not work in the mine, they may have run a store that supplied the people who did, or carted supplies and products of mining, so that income was directly related to the success or otherwise of the mine. These activities were practiced in daily life, not only in place of work but in domestic settings as well (Wurst 2006:199). In addition to the daily lives of the inhabitants, townships and their associated industrial areas were “the spatial spheres in which social and political position was reproduced” (Graves 2003:46). Material culture therefore contributed to a sense of community (Shackel and Palus 2006:831), with relative wealth, comfort, and place in community reflected in the domestic setting. Further to this, “new identities” could be forged using material culture (Shackel 2000; Shackel and Palus 2006:831). Therefore, examinations of domestic and industrial remnants in concert are necessary in order to illuminate how people lived their lives in these communities. The reflection of social and ideological beliefs may also be observable in the relationship between mines and communities and settlements in the broader landscape. Palmer (2004:2) made an interesting point when she suggested that the inter-­ relationship of sites reflects systems of industrial organisation which in turn is reflected by land ownership. The corollary of this may also apply—it may also be that patterns of land ownership are influenced by industrial organisation. These

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patterns (of both ownership and social networks) may also extend to the technologies used.

Social Aspects of Technology In the past, investigations in industrial archaeology have been “diminished by a focus upon the survival and preservation of material evidence rather than its significance” (Greene 2006:168). According to Kevin Greene, the answer to criticisms that industrial archaeology is just a nostalgic look at the past monuments of technology lies “not in the technology itself, but the circumstances in which it was practiced”. He advocated the removal of the distinct identity of industrial archaeology, and a return to a “socially constructed history of technology, or…modern archaeology” that recognises approaches centred on people and experience (Greene 2006:168–169). However, in the first instance it must be acknowledge that recording of the remnants of industrial processes at the most basic level is still necessary. By carrying out surveys on surviving material evidence, fundamental data on the use and “functional relationships between components” (Lennon 2000:72) can be established. Deeper analysis of the why of these relationships, looking beyond this functional analysis, meets Greene’s aim of understanding a socially constructed technology. As Greene and a number of other recent researchers (Casella 2005; Greene 2006:180; Killick 1998:287; Knapp 1998:2; Palmer and Orange 2016; Shackel and Palus 2006) have pointed out, there is always a social dimension to industrial technology. These are observable in the method and technology chosen and the social influences behind that choice; in the economics of production; in the relationships and negotiations that underpin any industrial operation; and in the organisation of industrial labour. In one example of social influences on technology, Donald Hardesty (Hardesty 2003:85) suggested that miners moving into an area imported knowledge about ore bodies, learned from experience that may not have translated to the new discovery. In another socially-based examination, James Symonds (2005:44–45) considered local distinctiveness in specific regional locations for specialised industry. He also suggested that household and kinship relationships were important in retaining and transmitting skills, both in terms of dynastic families and skilled working classes (Symonds 2005:49). In a similar vein, Bernard Knapp (1998:2) suggested that technology “is a social process that involves human behaviour and negotiation”. Further, he considered that the resources exploited, the tools selected, the manner in which labour is organised and the sequences of activities used in any particular technological process are “in fact key components of social behaviours and human choice” (Knapp 1998:2). Further than this, Symonds (2005:48) argued that social and economic context had an impact on the readiness of communities to adopt or adapt technology, commenting that an environment where it was possible for inventors to be heard was critical in allowing technology to change. This may well have resonance with examinations

The Archaeology of Mining

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of mining in Queensland where consideration can be given to whether relative isolation made for such an environment or conversely, whether a local lack of access to knowledge or technical experts made people more inclined to adhere rigidly (and in some cases inappropriately) to often unsuitable technology. While not always explicitly stated, ideas of agency are relevant to considerations of adaptation and changes in technology. Some researchers (emphasising technology in prehistory as well as in an historical context) have highlighted aspects of agency in examining how individuals and groups had an impact on the technology used (Dobres 1995; Dobres and Hoffman 1994; Shackel 2000; Silliman 2001; Symonds 2005). Part of this debate includes the concept of intentionality—did agents intend to make a change, was it a happy circumstance, and how can intentionality be identified archaeologically (Hiscock 2004)? Another aspects of examinations of technology is recognition that there is usually more than one technology suitable to do a job and that choice of technology may be socially influenced (Killick 2004:571; Petchey 2014). David Killick, in examining pre-industrial technologies argued that “the study of technological chaînes operatoires can potentially be an important source of evidence for social beliefs and practices” (Killick 2004:573); this principle is equally applicable to analysis of remnants from the more recent past. Further, in accepting Killick’s view that technology is embedded in social relations, then it can be argued that “industrial” and “social” cannot be separated. The presence of mining is an integral part of the context of a place, and the corollary is that the social landscape and agency of those implementing and using the technology is an integral part of how mining and processing develops. One element of the social landscape is the hierarchy that is present in any situation, and the attendant differences in power status. Industrial organisation (as in principles at play in the organisation of the industrial workplace) is another aspect which relates the importance of understanding domestic settings to social influences on technology, particularly in settlements that were wholly or majorly associated with a specific industry. Palmer and Neaverson (1998:43) argued that industrial buildings can be understood “in terms of power structures and employer-worker relationships within the industry with which it is associated”. They used examples of technology and buildings to illustrate how social influences are recorded in the fabric of industries. For example, they suggested that the changing forms of kilns and furnaces reflected increasing social sophistication that required more consistent operation to provide more consistent quality. At the same time, the process of industrialisation and the move from batch processes to continuous processes necessitated changing social and industrial organisation of labour, and this organisation of labour was reflected in the type and location of housing (Palmer and Neaverson 1998:44–48). Further, features within buildings may reflect the organisation of labour, for example with domestic textile production influencing the floor plan and window location in housing (Palmer and Neaverson 1998:63). Utilising industrial and domestic remnants in a landscape approach to industrial settlements provides an intersection of two different fields of thought. It allows another way of thinking about industrial sites, considering not only social influences

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on technology, but also the role of people in the provision of labour, organisation of labour and selection of technology. It also addresses the human condition of those people who occupied the industrial place—where they lived, what they thought, their belief structures (cultural and ideological), their status (economic, class and access to power), how they engage in broader networks and how they negotiate their position in that society. All of this is relevant to an “industrial” archaeology of gold mining in Australia. A number analyses of mining technology in Australia have been socially aligned. These have included investigations in Queensland into the influence of social environment on the type of processing and the degree of innovation on the Croydon goldfields, which found technology transfer was dependent on the type of ore body together with the ability to acquire capital (Wegner 1995a, b). Gibbs, considering the lead smelter at Warribanno (Gibbs 1997a) and copper mining at Northampton (Gibbs 1997b) in Western Australia, Gojak and Allen (2000) examining roasting technology in New South Wales, and Jackman (1995), examining tin mining in Tasmania, have all shown how social influences on technology used can be identified. Both Jackman and Gibbs demonstrated how particular (European) ethnic groups influenced the type of technology implemented at a mining site, and showed how social networks and organisation of labour impinged on the way settlements and mines were created and operated. Jackman (1995) examined tin mining methods used in northeast Tasmania. He recognised cultural influences including the (inaccurate) understanding of ore bodies, informed by previous experience in alluvial gold mining and in British mines; and differences in mining methods and their efficacy as a result of differing relationships—from capitalist ventures to “local syndicates” with “lines of friends and family” (Jackman 1995:57). Gibbs’ (1997a, b) examinations of Western Australian lead mining demonstrated amongst other things, how ethnic origins influenced technological choices (Gibbs 1997b:60) and social ideology could be imposed not only on adopted technology but also on the physical layout of both the smelter and the town (Gibbs 1997a). Another facet of social influence on technology that has been explored in a number of places is that of Chinese technologies and methods and the resulting landscape features, particularly for alluvial workings (e.g. McGowan 2003; Ritchie 1981). These studies showed specific industrial practices identifiable to a particular ethnic group. On the Palmer Goldfields reserve in Queensland, Grimwade (1990) and Comber (1991, 1995) synthesised and complemented several years of study to present a composite view of the landscape. The study mapped not only industrial remnants but also domestic remains together with haul-ways and roadways. The surveys also considered differences of ethnicity in the mining population, particularly with respect to the Chinese, while later work by Grimwade and Burke (2001:17) showed the distribution of European and Chinese sites across the Palmer River Reserve. In addition to this work, the investigation by Jack et al. (1984) on a Chinese domestic residence in the Palmer appears to have been one of the very few excavations that has attempted to interpret questions of life-ways about a particular group of people on the goldfields of Queensland.

Perspectives of Landscapes

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Industrial activities cannot be studied in isolation. There is any number of contextual factors at play in the everyday operation of industry (and mining in particular), the events and history that unfold and in the outcome of the venture. Although the life of a mine depends significantly on the size and complexity of the ore body, an enormous range of factors impinge on its profitability and longevity. These factors can be unrelated to the actual amount and disposition of the ore. They include the social framework of the operation, the type of mining venture undertaken (e.g. sole operator vs. capital investment), the relative knowledge and experience of the miners, the social and ethnic influences on technology adopted and the influence of personal relationships on the organisation of labour. Further, mines and settlements in fact are not separate entities but are integrally linked and so investigation should not just be limited to the mines and processing areas, but instead encompass a broader landscape.

Perspectives of Landscapes Although there is an array of definitions, it is now generally accepted that, in archaeological terms, landscapes are meaningfully encountered, socially constructed and engaged entities, constituted in space and place, perceived, created and experienced by people (Ashmore 2004). Landscape can be considered as a way of knowing or, as Taçon (1999:34) commented, “landscape, like beauty, is in the mind of the beholder”. A fresh approach is offered here, using landscape as a framework for the investigation of mining settlements, marrying the study of the social with the industrial reality of mining towns. Although social approaches that provide a picture of domestic life on the goldfields have been used at a number of sites in Australia, socially-oriented examinations of Australian mining towns have focused on the small-scale domestic setting, with rare explorations of the broader landscape. Consequently, few examinations of the interplay between the social and the industrial have been attempted. Furthermore, landscape approaches have been predominantly based on environmental changes while perspectives of landscape as an expression of cultural traditions have been neglected. Mining has been regarded instead as merely a located activity, rather than acknowledgement being given to its role in the landscape. Landscape as an interpretive framework lends itself to deeper questions related to creation of meaning, attachment and different ways of knowing. This is particularly pertinent to approaches in historical archaeology that recognise the importance of place in both community and wider colonial and world system paradigms. Investigations of the historical and archaeological records of mining towns provide an opportunity to understand the ways non-Indigenous settlers in particular came to form attachments to place. Historical gold mining also offers another window to the social landscape of colonial Queensland: a view articulated in the context of colonialism, the economic and political environment and ethnic and Aboriginal relations. The major historic gold rushes across the world occurred for the most part in the second half of the

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nineteenth century, a time when the prevailing global economic and political climates produced conditions conducive to the occurrence of the sort of speculation entailed by gold rushes. In the nineteenth century, gold was the predominant mineral in Queensland, accounting for ten times the revenue of any other mining product. The context of gold mining in the colony was of “towering importance”, bringing settlers to the region, helping to establish towns such as Cairns, Cooktown and Rockhampton, and providing a substantial income to the colony (Fitzgerald 1982). By the time gold mining had diminished in the early 1900s, Queensland had broadened its production base and settlements were established across the state. These conditions formed part of the macro and regional structures that informed the social landscape at that time. As Lawrence (2001) pointed out, not only did gold provide a boost to the economy of the nineteenth century but it also “shape[d] the intimate details of the lives of those who sought it”. Landscape, as a theoretical perspective, provides a means of looking at historical mining holistically. It provides a way of articulating how people understood the place in which they lived and worked and considers the construction and embedding of meaning in landscape. The view of historical landscapes as multi-layered, embedded with meaning and agentive in conveying social identity has been somewhat limited in historical archaeology. Through the examination of the details of lives in the nineteenth and early twentieth century, we can begin to understand the mechanisms that contributed to the settled form of mining landscapes—the ways in which people settled in the landscape, used it and created attachment, how they structured their homes, work and society, and the beliefs they deployed to underpin this structure. Further, a focus on social landscapes allows consideration of both non-­ European immigrants such as the Chinese, and the dispossessed such as the local Aboriginal groups, together with the lives of European miners and their families. While historical archaeology has engaged with the technology of mining, my early career in metallurgical engineering and experiences working on gold mines highlighted to me some of the shortcomings of historical approaches to the technology of gold mining and processing. Exploration of the “why” of gold-mining techniques provides an opportunity to explore the range of social influences on these undertakings. I also wanted to explore and deconstruct the narrative that has built up around gold mining. Building on the work of Susan Lawrence (2000) at Dolly’s Creek in Victoria, and Prangnell et al. (2005) at Paradise, there is an opportunity to provide a more complex picture of colonial gold mining that argues against the common rhetoric of “the digger and the capitalist venturer”. As Gilchrist (2005:333) has argued, “an emphasis on the local is essential for discerning differences in the expression of colonial power and appreciating resistance at a local level”. In the past there was a range of experiences and encounters with the capitalist world and not all communities experienced gold rushes and the nineteenth century economy in the same way. A landscape approach can look beyond technology and infrastructure to acknowledge the people and the relationships between mine and settlement, recognising the cultural landscape as a whole. The archaeology of Mount Shamrock provides an opportunity to explore these elements of life in colonial Queensland. While this

Finding the Social in the Industrial

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book takes a detailed picture of Mount Shamrock, at its’ centre the ideas about landscapes that are presented are applicable across historical and colonial industrial endeavours and beyond.

Finding the Social in the Industrial Mining the Landscape sets out to explore issues surrounding the creation of the cultural landscape around newly-settled Mount Shamrock, considering the ways in which the area’s first non-Indigenous inhabitants used, understood, changed and created meaning in the landscape they occupied. A critical element of the study is the analysis of social values inherent in the use of landscape, townscape, dwellings and material culture. Archaeologists and cultural geographers have approached the definition of cultural landscapes from many angles (see for example Armstrong 2001; Head 2000; Knapp and Ashmore 1999:9; Lennon 1997; Sims 2001; Strang 2008:51) and heritage organisations are still wrestling with the concept (see Rossler n.d. for attempt to define cultural landscapes for ICOMOS for example). Strang (2008:52) provided a synthesis of views of cultural landscapes, describing them as not only the product of human-environment interactions but as an expression of social relations with particular engagements, understood from different cultural beliefs and practices. Strang (2008:52) defined a cultural landscape as: holistic, incorporating every aspect of culture and its material expression. This includes cosmological understandings of the world; religious beliefs and practices; languages and categories; social and spatial organisation; economic activities; systems of property ownership; political processes; values and their manifestations in laws; history and memory; constructs of social identity; representational forms; material culture; forms of knowledge and their intergenerational transmission; embodied experiences of the environment and so forth.

It is in these senses that the term “cultural landscape” is used here. Historical landscapes, in particular the historical landscapes of nineteenth century Queensland, can be defined as the cultural landscapes encountered in more contemporary contexts in archaeological terms. The site of Mount Shamrock is clearly encapsulated in the global narrative of nineteenth century gold mining. Gold was found at Mount Shamrock in 1886 and the township settled soon after. It had varied fortunes over its 50 years, linked to the ebb and flow of mining operations, which sometimes employed 30–50 people and at other times supported only two or three miners working individually. Through that time, there were several phases of operation and people moved to and from the town. It had connections to nearby mining towns, including the recently investigated town of Paradise. Today the site contains remnants of both the settlement and the mining and processing areas, located within the broader landscape of land holdings, route-ways and varying topographies of the study area. Archival evidence suggests the presence of local Aboriginal groups at the time of the mine’s operation. As remnants of both the town and industrial area are still in situ, this site provides a

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valuable opportunity to examine integrated elements of the cultural landscape of nineteenth century mining towns. The mining and processing methods used are assessed to establish the effect of social influences on the selection, use and adaptation of technology. These intertwined influences highlight the role individual experience, understanding and sense of identity had on the selection of technology and how, in turn, the technology used influenced senses of identity. For residents of industrially-based settlements, technology was embedded in their life experience. All of these elements are drawn together through a social approach to develop an integrated picture of gold mining and associated townships. Using a landscape approach to examine the archaeology of Mount Shamrock acknowledges the role of landscape in framing people’s understanding of their everyday world. Archaeological survey methods complement this interpretive framework and archaeological and archival data are used together to provide a picture of the social landscape and the meanings embedded in that landscape. Archaeological analysis provides the opportunity to present a more fine-grained picture than that provided by sparse but informative documentary records. It also allows for the verification of documentary evidence and helps foil any bias in historical documentation, providing a blend of evidence to support and contextualise interpretation (Gilchrist 2005; Orser 2005:22; Scott 1994).

Summary This book therefore examines the landscape of the nineteenth century Australian mining town of Mount Shamrock. It explores influences in the establishment and layout of the town and mine that are revealed through examining features in the broader landscape. These include networks of connection, identification of significant elements in the construction of the physical and social landscape for the residents of the township, and the influence of technology on the social landscape the residents constructed (and in corollary social influences on the way mining and processing were carried out). Within the framework of landscape theory and approaches to the archaeology of industry, a range of documentary and archaeological data is used to present an interpretation of the landscape of Mount Shamrock. This interpretation in turn allows exploration of how people created landscapes through attachment to, and meaning of, particular features as they settled in the area and what mechanisms acted to create and perpetuate meaning. The landscapes of colonial mining enterprises are recognised as being complex and multi-faceted, composed and meaningfully constituted. Equally important are the concepts of agency and multi-vocality which underpin the view of landscape offered here. Consideration is given to what constitutes an ‘industrial’ landscape and what types of social-industrial interactions are relevant to the examination of a mining landscape, together with explorations of social aspects of technology and industry. While transfer of technology is often presented in accounts of mining and

References

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mineral processing, here a glimpse in microcosm of the motivations and impacts of technology transfer and the social impetuses that underlie adoption. The historical data that allows this fine grained understanding, including the mining history of the Upper Burnett and the history of Mount Shamrock is constructed from documentary evidence including archival records and first-hand accounts of the township. The historical narrative of expansion, politics, social status and gold mining in Queensland are important as they contextualise this research. The results of the archaeological survey at Mount Shamrock are interwoven with historic detail to provide the primary evidence to underpin interpretations of landscape. Broader scaled evidence specifically relevant to the extended landscape is heavily reliant on information from maps and photographs. The social landscape of Mount Shamrock and the meaning embedded in the landscape are presented in a narrative that allows the identification of significant elements in the construction of an historical colonial landscape and exploration of how meaning was created and embedded in that landscape. In a settlement where town and industry are integrated in a mining landscape, the social focus used in the examination of landscapes and the integration of the domestic and the industrial shows how concepts of landscape enrich our understandings of mining settlements from the detail of a small town to the global colonial and economic implications of nineteenth century gold rushes.

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Newman, R. 2004. Industrial rural settlements: Genesis, character and context 1550–1900. In The archaeology of industrialization, ed. D. Barker and D. Cranstone, 25–34. Leeds: Maney Publishing. Orser, C.E. 2005. Historical archaeology. Upper Saddle River: Pearson Prentice Hall. Palmer, M. 2004. The archaeology of industrialization: Introduction. In The archaeology of industrialization, ed. D. Barker and D. Cranstone, 1–4. Leeds: Maney Publishing. ———. 2005. Industrial archaeology: Constructing a framework of inference. In Industrial archaeology: Future directions, ed. E.C. Casella and J. Symonds, 59–76. New York: Springer. Palmer, M., and P.  Neaverson. 1998. Industrial archaeology: Principles and practice. London: Routledge. Palmer, M., and H. Orange. 2016. The archaeology of industry; people and places. Post-Medieval Archaeology 50 (1): 73–91. https://doi.org/10.1080/00794236.2016.1169812. Petchey, P. 2014. The archaeological interpretation of the New Zealand stamp mill. Australasian Historical Archaeology 32: 3–13. Prangnell, J., J. Reid, L. Herbert-Cheshire, and K. Rains 2002. Archaeological salvage of Paradise: Survey and historical research, Unpublished report, UQASU, University of Queensland. Prangnell, J., L.  Cheshire, and K.  Quirk. 2005. Paradise: Life on a Queensland Goldfield. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Archaeological Services Unit. Prangnell, J., G. Mate, and K. Murphy. 2020. More than Mills and Mines: 50 years of Australasian industrial archaeology. Australasian Historical Archaeology 39. Quirk, K. 2007 The Victorians in ‘Paradise’: Gentility as social strategy in the archaeology of colonial Australia. Unpublished PhD thesis, School of Social Science, University of Queensland, Brisbane. Riddett, R. 1995. Creating a window on the past: Interpreting industrial history. Historic Environment 11 (4): 17–20. Ritchie, N.A. 1981. Archaeological interpretation of alluvial gold tailings sites, Central Otago, New Zealand. New Zealand Journal of Archaeology 3: 51–69. Rossler, M. n.d. Cultural landscapes. Retrieved 2/12/2009 from http://www.icomos.org/landscapes/index2engl.htm. Scott, E.M., ed. 1994. Those of little note: Gender, race and class in historical archaeology. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press. Shackel, P. 2000. Craft to wage labour: Agency and resistance in American historical archaeology. In Agency in archaeology, ed. M. Dobres and J.E. Robb, 232–246. London: Routledge. Shackel, P.A., and M.  Palus. 2006. The gilded age and working-class industrial communities. American Anthropologist 108 (4): 828–841. Silliman, S. 2001. Agency, practical politics and the archaeology of culture contact. Journal of Social Archaeology 1 (2): 190–209. Sims, J. 2001. Thematic study of the cultural landscape of Queensland. Brisbane: Cultural Landscape Research Unit, QUT. Strang, V. 1999. Competing perceptions of landscape in Kowanyama, North Queensland. In The archaeology and anthropology of landscape: Shaping your landscape, ed. P.  Ucko and R. Layton, 206–218. London: Routledge. ———. 2008. Uncommon ground: Landscape as social geography. In Handbook of landscape archaeology, ed. B. David and J. Thomas, 51–58. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. Symonds, J. 2005. Experiencing industry: Beyond machines and the history of technology. In Industrial archaeology: Future directions, ed. E.C. Casella and J. Symonds, 33–57. New York: Springer. Taçon, P. 1999. Identifying ancient sacred landscapes in Australia: From physical to social. In Archaeologies of landscape: Contemporary perspectives, ed. W.  Ashmore and A.B.  Knapp, 33–57. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Thomas, J. 1993. The politics of vision and the archaeologies of landscape. In Landscape: Politics and perspectives, ed. B. Bender, 19–48. Oxford: Berg.

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Wegner, J. 1995a Croydon: Technology transfer on a North Queensland Goldfield, 1885–1915, Unpublished PhD Thesis, James Cook University, Townsville, Queensland. ———. 1995b. Winding engines on the Croydon Goldfield: What the documents don’t say. Australasian Historical Archaeology 13: 11–17. Wurst, L. 2006. A class all its own: Explorations of class formation and conflict. In Historical archaeology, ed. M. Hall and S.W. Silliman. Malden: Blackwell Publishing.

Chapter 2

Landscapes, Places and Parts

For people moving to the Upper Burnett district of Queensland in the nineteenth century “new places” were created as gold was discovered and mined. These places were partially experienced through the physical environments they encountered. However people moving into the region also created meaning in place, learning about the land they were occupying as they built mines and settlements. The presence of gold was an integral part of the environment for the residents of mining towns, influencing decisions regarding settlement and ameliorating the physical conditions. The discovery of mineral deposits was widespread in the region at that time, reflecting a pre-occupation with minerals and mining across the colony; a pre-­ occupation that was situated in the context of the social, economic and political landscape of Queensland and further afield. How did people understand, occupy and shape these landscapes? The grass is up to one’s neck, the water is continuously dripping from trees, and if one happens to go out prospecting in the steep ravine the leeches are an abominable torture. Dante should have been here this autumn and he would have been able to add a new and exquisite torture to his “Inferno”. But the gold is here that hides a multitude of imperfections (Anon. Maryborough Chronicle June 19 1891)

The landscapes of nineteenth century Queensland were both the context and physical environment from which mining settlements were created. Landscapes were experienced physically, and encountered in terms of a mineral resource. In this chapter, considerations of the concept of landscapes and their constitution are explored. Reflections of landscape see a confluence of ideas about mutual constitution and multi-vocality. Notions of power and agency in tension with cultural structures help shed light on the constructions of landscapes of meaning at different scales. Landscapes are recognised in terms of their “socio-symbolic dimensions … an entity that exists by virtue of its being perceived, experienced, and contextualized by people” (Knapp and Ashmore 1999:1). Landscapes can also be conceived of as holding three “dimensions”—physical, social and symbolic (Head 2000:54). Each of these dimensions has import in the archaeological investigation of mining © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 G. Mate, Mining the Landscape, Contributions To Global Historical Archaeology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-12906-3_2

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settlements. The physical geography is relevant to the location of an industry and settlement. Mines for example are necessarily situated where the resources are. The archaeological remains themselves are framed by their physical location and situation in the landscape, providing an understanding of the settlement proxemics. And how these landscapes were occupied and created can tell us much about the social and symbolic elements of landscape—the “perceived, experienced and contextualised” product of people. This chapter will further examine the application of landscape as a theoretical concept in historical archaeology. The detailed examination of people’s engagement with, and constitution of, the landscape of Mount Shamrock—through archival records and the archaeological remnants—makes it possible to relate landscapes as interpreted by settlers. The first step in interrogating this approach is to recognise the role of space and place in the constitution of landscapes.

Structuring of Space and Place Space can be regarded in part as a material entity, through recognition that space is not a natural phenomenon, but is instead mediated by human behaviours (Delle 1998:3, 37). As a material entity therefore, space can be (and is) structured, despite having “no substantial essence of itself” (Tilley 1994:11). Similarly space within landscapes is brought into being by human experiences, and can be regarded as lived rather than a geometric constituent (Thomas 2001:172). In attempting to explain how spaces are meaningfully constituted, Tilley (1994:10, emphasis in original) explained that spaces “are amenable to reproduction or change because their constitution takes place as part of the day-to-day praxis or practical activity of individuals or groups in the world”. Taking this further, space can be considered as playing an active role in the creation of social identities and within cultural practices (Lightfoot et al. 1998:202), acknowledging that the way space is structured facilitates social process, for example identifying differences in organising principles between residential and public spaces. Hence, if it is produced and reproduced by human behaviour, then space can have meaning. How then are spaces not places, if the definition of place is through constitution of meaning at a locality (Thomas 2001:173; Tilley 1994:18)? Knapp and Ashmore (1999:2) recognised human engagement with space in these terms, identifying the “growing recognition of space as place” (emphasis in original). They acknowledged that people mark space/ place, and that it is not merely a backdrop for human activity; that space itself has meaning (see also Strang 2008:52; Thomas 2001:173). In contrast, de Certeau (1984:117–118) has described place as merely locality and space as the product of action, arguing that “space is a practised place”. However, David (2002:31) pointed out, through an examination of Foucault’s work on institutional space, that: the principle of place as co-constructed with classes of people and classes of behaviour applies to all places, as spaces defined in social engagement. Hospitals, schools, paths, village greens and gardens are all prescribed behavioural spaces (my emphasis)

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This emphasises a view of spaces as places. Structuring of space can be seen to be provided by built structures and activity areas, while architecture can be regarded as embodying and expressing principles of order and classification; structures therefore are not only contextually encountered but themselves provide context (David 2002:31; Parker Pearson and Richards 1996:40). Tilley (1993:80) asserted that “the very presence of the architectural form constantly activates what otherwise is socially neutral space”. Although this assertion fails to recognise that space is not necessarily socially neutral just because it is not framed architecturally, it does clearly articulate the role of architecture in the structuring of space. Therefore, examinations of social space should consider organisation and use of space, together with contemplation of how architectural structures frame space and contextualise activities. Having said this, an over-emphasis on the role of architectural structures in defining space may overlook the notion that spaces can be socially activated without built structures: meaning can be fixed equally to  the locality of an event, to a natural feature (see Taçon 1999 for example), or to an area of activity in a broader landscape. A locality can be transformed into a socially-constituted space (that is a place) as a result of events or experiences, and is not reliant on the presence of built structures in that transformation. A space may in fact have no specific structures defining it, but will still have meaning, making it a conceptual place. As Byrne and Nugent (2004) suggested, though, in accepting that space can have meaning, it also has to be considered that such meaning may leave no tangible trace. Regarding space as practised and socially-constituted highlights a difficulty in extracting meaning from space in the archaeological record, namely that we were not the social actors, therefore how can we hope to understand past meanings of a particular space/place? Furthermore, space/place is a changing entity where meaning can change without physical alteration (Bender 2001a:3; Parker-Pearson and Richards 1996:40; Thomas 2001:176). How then can space/place be investigated archaeologically? It may not be possible to identify archaeologically the meaning of all space in a landscape but, as Parker Pearson and Richards (1996) examining space in a range of prehistoric settlements, and Lightfoot et al. (1998) regarding the culturally pluralistic social practices of Fort Ross in California have illustrated, the spatial distribution of artefacts and the structuring of space in the archaeological record can yield some interpretation of meaning. Ideas of material relationships and the application of structuration theory, have both been used to suggest that everyday practice can be reflected in the archaeological record, demonstrating the use of space and the illumination of meanings (Jordan 2003; Thomas 2001: 180–181). Shared contemporaneous understandings can shape a place, allowing place to be regarded as structured, which can in turn be investigated empirically (David 2002:30–31). This supports the notion that some avenues of disclosure of social construction and structuring of space are possible. Although David (2002) focused readings of the structuring of space in Aboriginal landscapes, the same potential is possible in a Western historical context. This is particularly so where the political, social and economic context is understood: space, whether or not framed by built structures, has meaning. The

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availability of documentary evidence for historical archaeological sites can provide an additional source of information about the use and meaning of particular spaces. Similarly, whether a place is a space, or a materially marked or built entity, it is socially constituted and is contextually encountered. While the appearance and structuring of a place (and the spaces in it) guides our experience of that place (Tilley 1993), our own cultural position guides our understanding and interaction with it, and the cultural and temporal context of a place has influence on the meaning of that place. Therefore, the overarching social, political and ideological structures of a culture will influence both the composition of a place (how it is culturally structured) and the meaning taken from the place (how it is culturally understood). Further, in any constitution or construction of place, a person’s life experience and worldview will influence their reading or understanding of place. Space and place can both therefore be controlled, defined, and embedded with meaning—a meaning derived partly from an individual point of view, and partly from the overarching structure of the culture, the cultural pre-understanding. Spatial organisation has also been recognised as important in the transmission of social relations (Bourdieu 2000) and in expressions of power (Foucault 1970). These concepts of meaningfully constituted space and place find a corollary in some of the theories of material culture. It is widely recognised that the spatial patterning of artefacts suggests functional purposes for places. Further to this, Beaudry et  al. (1991:150) regarded artefacts as “tangible incarnations of social relations embodying the attitudes and behaviours of the past”. Material culture—viewed as a cipher for meaning and symbolism used in the transmission of social identity—is a form of social discourse and can be used to understand meaning, and therefore spaces and places, in the past. Bringing these ideas together, it is possible to consider the role of space and place in the composition and structuring of a landscape that can articulate meaning.

Landscapes: Meaning, Identity, Power Archaeologists, anthropologists and human geographers have been writing about cultural landscapes for several decades and many synthetic overviews have explored the use of the term landscape and approaches to landscape archaeology over the last 20–25  years (Anschuetz et  al. 2001; Ashmore 2004; Aston 1985; Bender 1999; Branton 2009; David and Thomas 2008; Head 2000; Ingold 1993; Johnson 2007; Knapp and Ashmore 1999; Layton and Ucko 1999; Strang 2008; Thomas 2001). Ingold (1993:153) began his explanation of landscape by detailing what it is not— “it is not ‘land’, it is not ‘nature’, and it is not merely ‘space’”. Landscapes were first regarded as a backdrop for human activity (Knapp and Ashmore 1999:1; Strang 2008:51). Then came recognition that landscape was “changed in the process, materially reflecting a history of human engagement” (Strang 2008:51). Johnson (2007:3–4) acknowledged this view of landscape and argued that there was another level of engagement, suggesting that western culture understands two elements of

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landscape—the land itself, on which physical change is wrought; and people’s view and apprehension of the “land-scape”. This definition recognises the embedded meaning in human interactions with landscape (Johnson 2012). Landscape is seen by Thomas (2001:166) as “a singularly complex and difficult concept”; he goes on to explain that landscapes can be envisaged through both action and meaning as: a network of related places, which have been gradually revealed through people’s habitual activities and interactions, through the closeness and affinity they have developed for some locations, and through the important events, festivals, calamities and surprises which have drawn other spots to their attention, causing them to be remembered or incorporated into stories. Importantly, the series of places through which people’s life histories are threaded help them to give account of their own identity. (Thomas 2001:173)

Numerous researchers have now recognised the synergies between ideas of place/space and landscape. Van Dyke (2008:278) for example sees place as the “intersection of memory and landscape” while Ashmore (2004:263) identified a blurring of literatures on ‘landscape’ and ‘place’ that reflects this convergence. It is now broadly understood that landscapes encompass both the physical and the conceptual (David and Thomas 2008:121; Gosden and Head 1994:113; Knapp and Ashmore 1999:1). Furthermore, although Thomas’s definition did not incorporate spaces, his definition, together with an acceptance of space as place, allows a view of landscape as something made up of a continuum of spaces/places, constructed, encountered and understood at different levels. As Ingold (1993:154) explained, “landscape is a plenum, there are no holes in it that need to be filled, so that every infill is in reality a reworking”. Strang (2008:51–52) eloquently incorporated a range of principles about place—Sauer’s ideas of palimpsest, Bourdieu’s recognition of the materialization of social relationships in spatial organisation and his concept of habitus, and Foucault’s representations of power in spatial terms—into a multi-faceted understanding of landscape. The confluence of these ideas is represented in the widely-accepted view of landscapes as socially constituted, engaged and meaningfully encountered (Knapp and Ashmore 1999:1–4; Bender 1993a:2; Kealhofer 1999:59; Layton and Ucko 1999:7–8; Tilley 1994:11–12). To further tease out people’s engagement with landscape, Knapp and Ashmore (1999:1) identified three “interpretive descriptors”: constructed, conceptualised and ideational landscapes. These concepts provide a mechanism for thinking about “meaning-laden” landscapes, the three descriptors distinguishing the physical and conceptual composition of landscapes (Knapp and Ashmore 1999:9–13). “Constructed” landscapes are the physical changes to landscape, whether made for practical or ideological reasons. Knapp and Ashmore (1999:10) cautioned, however, against a freezing of meaning, and emphasised a need to recognise that meaning can change even in constructed landscapes. “Conceptualized” landscapes are “interpreted and given meaning through localized social practices and experiences”. They are mediated through social processes, can be constitutive of social processes and are integral in the reproduction of social concepts. These landscapes can be physically unmarked or can centre on natural features (Knapp and Ashmore 1999:11). Knapp and Ashmore (1999:12) regarded ideational landscapes as both “imaginative” as well as “emotional”, providing both a mental image of something

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and cultivating a value or ideal. These concepts are valuable for approaches to landscapes of nineteenth-century Queensland. The notion of constructed landscapes can be applied to the physical structures and changes to the land, overlapping with the creation of meaning as part of the physical change. Conceptual landscapes, while not always focussing on natural features might inform ideas of wilderness (discussed shortly) and concepts of inside/outside that are social constructions within mining landscapes. Ideational landscapes can be applied to relationships within the colonial landscape, can recognise Indigenous views in contrast to settler views, and can stretch to relationships between the nineteenth century colony of Queensland and Britain. Johnson (2007:4) pointed out that “many ‘indigenous’ cultures deny any opposition between land and land-scape”, at odds with a Cartesian system found in Western thought. This opposition is not as clear-cut in Western views of landscape as Johnson might suggest. In Western interactions with landscape there is, in fact, that same inextricable association between meaning and landscape as held by many indigenous people. It is perhaps not as overtly stated or experienced, but there remains a link between what happens physically to the land, the events that take place there, and the views, understandings, and the meanings that are taken from the land. Further, in engaging and “being-in” the landscape, people do experience that landscape bodily, at a sensory level (David and Thomas 2008:245; Strang 2008:52), as an embodied landscape. That is not to say that indigenous views of embodiment, such as the embodiment of ancestors or spiritual beings in the landscape, are also reflected in the Western view. Rather, the distinction or difference in views lies in the nature and complexity of embodiment. Johnson (2007) is emphasising an effect of the Western academic approach to historical landscape which has seen this dichotomy between land features as landscapes and landscapes of engagement. In contrast, researchers examining Australian Indigenous views of landscapes recognise both embedded meaning and embodiment as a fundamental part of the understanding of landscape (e.g. David 2002; Fullagar and Head 1999; Gosden and Head 1994; Morphy 1993; Russell 2012; Smith 1999; Strang 1999; Taçon 1999). However, in phenomenological perspectives that emphasise human experiences, the shift towards a more inclusive view of landscape has occurred (e.g. Bender 2001a; Bradley 2003; de Certeau 1984:97; Feld and Basso 1996; Ingold 1993; Strang 2008:52; Thomas 1993; Tilley 1994). Tilley (2008:271) argues that in a phenomenological perspective “knowledge of landscapes, either past or present, is gained through perceptual experience of them from the point of view of the subject”. This idea recognises that movement and stories create meaning, and that mind and bodily experience are inseparable (Bender 2001b:83). Experiencing a landscape brings knowledge or learning (Bender 2001b:84), a new or more nuanced understanding (Johnson 2007:xviii; see also Bradley 2003), and also allows a sensory experience of being-in place (see for example Cummins 2002; Rainbird 2008; Tilley 1994, 2008:273). These perspectives add another layer to the understanding of landscapes, a layer that is important when considering how meaning is embedded in an newly settled, previously

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occupied landscape, that has seen changes from millennia of Indigenous occupation to an industrialised locality of intensive resource gathering.

Creation of Meaning, Attachment and Memory In accepting that landscapes are meaning-ladened, socially constituted, and met through contextually-led encounters, it is important to consider how this meaning is constructed. Movement, narrative and experience all have roles in the construction of place and meaning in landscape, as does memory created through ritual and other forms of practice (Appleton 1994; Armstrong 2001:47; Ashmore 2004:264; Johnson 2007:142; Lowenthal 1975; Sims 2001:85; Tilley 1994:15, 34). Armstrong (2001:47) identified six “symbolic linkages of people to the land: genealogical, loss, economic, cosmological, pilgrimage and narrative”. These can be considered mechanisms for creating meaning and experience. Further exploration of these forms of attachment demonstrates their applicability to many cultural landscapes, including those established more recently. These ways in to a meaningful landscape are not just applicable to deep time or Indigenous landscapes but are equally relevant, if differently constituted, to settler landscapes in more recent history. Genealogical ties and loss clearly articulate with events such as birth, death and continuity (or discontinuity) of family occupation—all have a role in the creation of place. In economic terms, linkages to land can be constructed through a person’s livelihood, particularly in occupations such as mining and agriculture, which are physically bound to the land. While cosmological linkages are perhaps harder to envisage in colonial society, they are present in churches, in cemeteries, and possibly in associations with far-off places, underscoring the identification of places as important (rather than “sacred”). These associations can be through names related to places of origin or perceptions of luck, such as the naming of the townships of Esk, Stanton Harcourt and Eidsvold in Queensland for remembrances of European places. In this sense, memory is again important in the construction of meaning of a place. More concretely, it is clear that pilgrimage—not necessarily in the truest sense of the word pilgrimage but interpreted as movement and journey—can be seen to create associations with place. Continual movement and experience of a landscape contributes to connections to place. Thomas (2001:173) made this point clearly, envisaging landscapes as building up through both habitual activities and specific events. Ingold (1993) approached the same point from a different angle, identifying “taskscapes” which are the embodiment of movements and actions in the landscape. Finally, narrative can be seen to play an active role in creation of meaning in place. Burke and Smith (2010) suggested that in recording oral histories and interviews they were themselves embedded in a network of places significant to the narrator. Although they are framing this idea in the context of Indigenous understandings of landscape, it translates to any cultural context. All people have links to the land embedded in their stories. Furthermore, movement and narrative are interwoven. When travelling across a landscape, the journey itself prompts memories about

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places that are recounted in stories that demonstrate meaning embedded in the landscape and that also link to the landscape as it is envisioned by the narrator (Appleton 1994; Prangnell and Mate 2011). Through associations with individuals or groups it becomes possible to ‘understand’ a landscape that has not physically been visited or has been visited only once. Despite a limited physical knowledge, it is possible to retain a number of layers of understanding of a landscape based on engagement with the stories and knowledge held by people who have visited or moved there. Without ever being there, it is possible to form an envisaged or imagined landscape. A place never seen can nonetheless be significant. Inheritance of stories can likewise be important in forming an ideational landscape. In this manner, people have attachments to a ‘homeland’ they have never visited, carrying a mental image or map of places and landscapes that have meaning, a map that conflates scale and time. The foregoing factors can make it difficult to produce a definitive map of an understood landscape. Envisaged landscapes—these landscapes of understanding—do not really have boundaries. They have relatively unbounded extremities, and relationships between places they encompass are not simply geographic. Meanings of places are based on travelling across country, events and narrative. Places become closely related regardless of physical distance. In the same way, topographical features may be less important or may even be disregarded if they are not important to understanding a particular landscape. An example can be seen in ‘mud maps’, where scale is variable and dependent on the density of features, and the features included are themselves dependent on experience, memory and events and relevance to the situation in which the mud map is being used. Events that create and embed meaning in landscape are another means of creating symbolic linkages. Events can be momentous or memorable occasions, or just everyday activities, and a landscape can be contextually composed through those events. Setting down in place can be considered an event and researchers of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century settler societies have examined such happenings in an attempt to determine how long it takes to create meaning in a newly-altered landscape (e.g. Ashmore 2004; Kealhofer 1999; Morphy 1993). Ashmore (2004:257) suggested that nineteenth-century Euro-Americans had “relatively shallow genealogical ties to the landscape”, and that the landscape held “strong implications of nature, ‘untainted by human presence’ (Sprin 1996:111)”. ‘Nature’ as it is understood today is a Western construct that neglects changes wrought on an environment, instead seeing only the transformed landscapes of European occupation as places, disregarding the fact that ‘pristine wilderness’ might actually be the product of long human intervention (see Taçon 1999:33 for example). Some researchers have examined the Cartesian duality of nature versus culture: wild versus civilised, particularly with respect to Western views of Indigenous ways of understanding (e.g. Basso 1996; Bird Rose 1996; Head 2000:56–57). These analyses demonstrate different ways of understanding a particular landscape and argue that not all views see dichotomies between nature and culture. Yet it is likely that Europeans settlers in Australia perceived their landscape in such dualistic terms, as Strang (1999) implied, highlighting perceptions held by

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European settlers of wilderness as hostile and dangerous, in contrast to the controlled sanctuary of the homestead. This transformation may also have been perceived in terms of graduated wilderness—a manifestation of Morphy’s proposition of changing frontiers (1993:209). Morphy (1993) explored the changing perceptions of the landscape of Roper’s Bar in northern Australia, graduating from ‘wild’ to ‘frontier’ eventually being perceived as “‘settled’ Australia”. In the act of settling in place, people’s perceptions of a new landscape would have gradually transformed from “threatening and incoherent” (Bradley 2000:33) to something that is known, comfortable and perceived and understood as an entity. This transformation of ‘wilderness’ into ‘place’ occurred not just by the act of clearing vegetation, for example, but also by moving through the broader landscape, travelling on newly created tracks and by physically occupying the landscape. Kealhofer (1999:59), examining early settlers in seventeenth-century Virginia, believed that it takes an extended period of time to embed meaning in a place, suggesting by inference that merely clearing land, for example, would provide insufficient time to establish a meaningful landscape. However, the act of clearing itself creates a new ‘place’ and therefore creates a different meaning for that area of activity. Moreover, in clearing, the immediate landscape is learned and experienced as well as transformed. Any archaeologist who has gone to a new site has been through this process of learning—initially all is unfamiliar and features and landmarks seem far apart. By the end of a fortnight of survey or excavation, the patch of ground is known, has been transformed not just physically, but mentally as it becomes more familiar and is invested with meaning based around events, activities and understanding. It also takes only one event—the work of a moment (such as an accident, an unexpected meeting, or a glimpse of a place from afar)—to form another layer of meaning. Reinforcing the concept of immediacy of meaning created in place, we can return to David’s (2002:31) assertion that “the use of space from the outset is social”. It follows that from the outset, there is some meaning in any use of space. This is not to say that ‘places’ where the events occurred were previously ‘null’ spaces with no meaning, just that their meaning may have been different—viewed by intending settlers as ‘wilderness’ for example. Miners inhabiting a new place may have perceived the landscape as ready for alteration from some other use, such as a landscape previously understood as grazing land. In fact, it can be argued that there is no such thing as a landscape that is devoid of meaning. Bradley (2000) for example, in examining natural places, argued that, despite no human construction, places “acquire[d] significance in the minds of people” (Bradley 2000:35, original emphasis). This concept can be broadened to realise that any landscape that people think about, envision, or visit, from the moment it is imagined or considered, acquires meaning to the person envisioning the landscape. Thomas (2001:172–3) explained this as an “horizon of intelligibility”, and recognises that “a place is always disclosed, or comes into focus, as a place…we can have no awareness of it as any kind of non-place”. Therefore, it can be argued that any and all spaces have meaning and by that meaning can be regarded as ‘places’ (see also Ingold 1993:154). What an event does is transform a person’s understanding of the landscape and embed

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another layer of meaning, or provide a more informed meaning through experience. This constitutes a transformation of an envisaged landscape into one understood and known through the experience of ‘being-in’ place. Concepts of palimpsest are relevant here as any number of layers of activity or occupation representing events will have been created and obscured through living in a space. These multiple occupations may present evidence discernible in the archaeological landscape. If landscapes are made up in part of the events that embed meaning in them, then multiple layers of meanings are also created over time and landscapes can therefore have a number of meanings at one time. For example a place can simultaneously be a grazing pasture, the site of a specific event (such as a flat tyre) and the location of a previous township, all in one place, all understood at one time by an individual. Further, there can also be a variety of meanings held by different individuals that may or may not be shared. Various forms of material culture can provide a material expression of meanings embedded in landscapes, and so assist with interpretation of those landscapes. In one sense, the construction of a dwelling adds another layer to understanding, just as the act of clearing trees does. However there are other ways in which structures provide context. For example, it is recognised that “topography and monuments shape visual experience and movement” (Ashmore 2004:264). In particular, Tilley (1993) recognised that monuments both direct people and frame and control vistas, access and understanding (also see Barrett 2000; Bender 1993a; Thomas 1993; Tilley and Bennett 2001). Therefore, it can be inferred that buildings and paths in historic contexts moderated and guided people’s movement, experience, interaction and understanding of a landscape. As discussed earlier, space and place are both socially constituted and important in transmitting social ideology. This idea can be translated to landscapes, where social relationships—social construction of identity, social order, social relations, power and politics—can all be articulated through location, structure, movement and use of a landscape as a whole. Tilley (1994:17) also argued that “social meaning [is] wrapped around buildings, objects and features” and that “places are foci for the production of meaning, intention and purpose of societal significance”. European settlers created the landscapes of nineteenth-century townships in Queensland, where built structures, townscapes (as a constructed component of landscapes) and the structure of the landscape as a whole, had form and setting that created a focus for social activity and articulated social identity. These components allow a mutual constitution of a particular part of the landscape—created by social identity and order and simultaneously defining those relationships.

Mutual Constitution That people dialectically create and take meaning from landscape is central to concepts of landscape. Landscapes can be considered reflexive in nature—they are inscribed with meaning and meaning is read from them. In other words landscapes

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can be considered as mutually constituted (Ashmore 2004:258). Grange (1985:71) eloquently transmitted this idea: where is always part of us and we part of it. It mingles with our being, so much that place and human being are enmeshed, forming a fabric that is particular, concrete, dense (my emphasis)

Many authors have emphasised the need to consider the reflexive nature of people’s engagement with landscape (e.g. Bender 1993b, 2001b; Johnson 2007; Layton and Ucko 1999; Tilley 1994; Thomas 2001). Human-landscape relationships are dialectical—in a reflexive manner humans give, take and re-inscribe meaning to places in a landscape through their actions and the act of living in it (Bender 1993a:3; Gosden and Head 1994:114; Thomas 1993:28; Tilley 1994:17–19). Landscapes can be engaged with individually. However, as David (2002:31) suggested, place is shaped by, and shapes, social relations and therefore is understood at a group level as well as an individual level. That these group views of place can be differently understood will be explored shortly, but it is important to recognise that a group sharing a common understanding of a place, based on either shared past experiences of that particular group, or on culturally embedded views, will take a common meaning from that place. In other words, landscapes can be understood at a group level or community level. Hence, ‘social landscapes’ are created—a group of people contribute and together construct the social landscape of a town, for example. Even if individuals engage with a landscape in slightly (or even vastly) different ways, it can be collectively constructed through a form of mutual constitution. The mechanism of mutual constitution of a landscape can be realised through considerations of movement and narrative. As already explored, by moving across and experiencing landscapes, one comes to have knowledge and experience of those landscapes. Stories about places in the landscape are learned and experienced, and meaning develops. Any revisitation, recounting of the story or even imagining of that landscape then produces a meaning from that landscape. Furthermore, Tilley (1993) described how movement through structured space is instrumental in understanding and (re)constituting landscape. These concepts seem particularly appropriate in an historical context. The act of building structures in a town, and structuring space through roads, fencing and areas of activity, effects the construction of a landscape. As a landscape is used and becomes more familiar, meaning develops through events and narratives. Movement through a town, to and from places of work and residence, allows a landscape to be simultaneously read and constituted, the buildings and spatial structuring in turn acting as both points of meaning and as mnemonics for stories. Hence, the landscape is composed in part through these events and serves to (re)produce meaning with subsequent engagement in the landscape. Cultural meaning, reflecting social structures and activities, is an important facet of this constitution of the landscape. Emphasis on small-scaled and detailed examinations of material culture reveal expressions of cultural meaning in, reflected by, and influencing day-to-day behaviour—meaning that gives form to people’s lives in a particular place and time (Beaudry et al. 1991; see also Bradley 2000; Hodder 1988; Shanks and Tilley 1987).

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As well as recognising the dialectic nature of meaning in material culture, these scholars suggested that context allows people an “active role in creating meaning and in shaping the world around them”, rather than reacting to their environment (Beaudry et al. 1991:153; Hodder 1988; Shanks and Tilley 1987). Graves (2003:31) also identified “environment(s)” that structured patterns of social life and how they were understood. It is important that the role of these “environments”, contexts and overarching structures in influencing people’s decisions be considered in any examination of social/cultural landscapes. A key element in examining the mutual constitution of landscapes concerns the translation and continual re-affirmation or alteration of cultural and social meaning. Concepts of agency and practice make this link between people and the landscapes they inhabit.

Structure and Agency Underlying the mutual constitution of landscapes are ideas of structure and agency. While there are a number of approaches to structure and agency (see Dobres and Robb 2000), some articulate more clearly with ideas of landscape than others. Giddens’ (1991:204) ‘agency/practice’ approach to social theory—a combination of structure and human agency approaches—considers that human action is carried out by agents who construct the social world through their action, yet their actions are also constrained by, or operate within, the wider organisational structure of a society (see also Dobres and Robb 2000:11; Jordan 2003:11–12; Silliman 2001:192). Structure and agency are therefore seen as dialectically related (Dobres and Robb 2000:8; Johnson 2000:213), with agents acting within societal structures (an array of rules and resources according to Silliman (2001:192)), yet perpetuating those structures by their actions. This acknowledges the “simultaneous constraining and enabling influence of social, symbolic and material structures and institutions” (Dobres and Robb 2000:8). It can therefore be argued that agency is constituted in specific contexts (Barrett 2000:61–2; David 2004:67; Dobres and Robb 2000:11; Johnson 2000:213) as societal structures are a priori dependant on specific historic and cultural contexts. While some critiques of Giddens’ structuration approach have identified shortcomings that relate to cross-cultural comparisons and the interrogation of the role of intentionality in agency (Dornan 2002; Hodder 2000:22–23; Johnson 2000), by emphasising context and acknowledging the role of both material culture and setting in transmitting meaning, constructing identity and constraining agency (whether because of individual aspirations or cultural tradition), these issues can be addressed. Johnson (2000) for example, argued that the incorporation of “an historicity of agency” (emphasis in original), which recognises specific contexts for agencies, counters these shortcomings. In recognising that “agents” are perpetuating the expressions of the overarching framework by their actions, it must also be acknowledged that they can also be constructing or transforming these cultural structures. They can alter their world by degrees, creating their own interpretation of the social

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practices within which they operate. Barrett (2000:61) emphasised this notion, commenting that agency carries “the past into the future” (see also Thomas 2001:174). This encapsulates the point that the worldview of an individual, partially composed by their experience and the social structure in which they are situated (their past), influences their action, and recognises that individuals, by their actions, are changing their world (the future). However, it is important to emphasise the twofold influences that can “construct, negotiate and transform” (Dobres and Robb 2000:11)—societal framework and individual action/agency—and to consider why these factors are so important. Ideas about agency and overarching cultural or societal structure can inform approaches to landscape, linking people, spaces, places, objects and meaning, and recognising the context of the society in which the landscape is situated as the ‘overarching framework’—where landscape is also a product of societal structure and individual agency. This approach recognises that while there are social influences on spatial structuring of landscape, not everything about the way a landscape (or town or place) is ordered can be seen to result from these overarching frameworks. Social frameworks do not control people altogether, as individuals and groups are active in creating their own sphere of action and landscape of meaning. Recognition of a degree of intentionality at work is required: people can take control and make decisions about their actions. For example, decisions about where to live are not made with complete disregard for the practicalities of life. Practical issues are considered and balanced against other influences, including personal preference, cultural influences and conditions already in place. People intentionally choose location, even if there are “structural conditions” (Barrett 2000:65) at work. Gosden and Head (1994:113–4) have suggested that human action is carried out both within the framework of past actions structuring future actions and with internal (but not necessarily conscious) notions of social being related to time, space and human relations. Thomas (2001:174) in turn argued that landscape is an “appropriate framework for investigating social life over the long term”. These viewpoints were primarily targeted towards long-term cultural activity and change. Concepts of practice, which emphasise the reproduction of social institutions though actions carried out (Bourdieu 1977:53; Head 2000; Pauketat 2000:115; Thomas 2000:13) recognise the spatial and temporal changes that are important to landscape theory. As practice changes through space and time, so the meaning and extent of a particular landscape alters. However, if we link ideas of structure and agency to earlier discussions of movement, narrative, events and memory, while acknowledging the role of time in the complexity of attachment and construction of landscapes, then we can start to move towards an understanding of how social landscape in the context of more recent history can be examined.

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World View, Multivocality and Power The idea of multiple interpretations of landscape reflects the concept that a social landscape is constructed by human action. Any action is framed both by a person’s experience of living in the landscape, what they see and do every day as they move through the landscape, and by their own experiences in life. This experience is dependent on their “culturally created view of the world” (Gosden 1999:486) and on their position in social, political and economic networks of power and knowledge (Bender 1999:633; Jordan 2003:21; Thomas 1993:30). These differing relationships to, and means of manifestation within, landscapes can be considered as differing ‘world views’. The world view of individuals is constructed through their own individual understanding of the world, moulded by political and ideological beliefs, class, status, job and personal experience. Recognition of multiple readings is essential to understanding the tensions between different individuals and groups in a landscape that is socially constructed. Culture also influences constructions of meaning. In Australia in the nineteenth century, European settlers, Aboriginal people and Chinese immigrants, for example, understood and used the landscape in vastly different ways (Bird Rose 1996; Byrne 2003; Godwin and L’Oste-Brown 2002; McGowan 2003; Rains 2002:47). As suggested earlier, the structuring of both space and architecture have a role in creating an established order. One manifestation of this ‘established order’ is in the “structuring of space use that sanctifies certain persons and or activities” (Blanton 1994:80). This can be seen in the structuring of a landscape that privileges access of certain people and excludes others from particular parts of the landscape. Relationships based on power are inherent in any established order, where some are controlled by rules imposed by others—whether rules of behaviour, access or knowledge (Bender and Winer 2001; Delle 1998:200; Sibley 1992). David (2002:31) suggests that place is socially engaged in the everyday workings of society. This is power as a condition of place—by virtue of the social construction and constriction that guides human action and reproduces behaviour in a social space, place emerges as empowered, as a force that influences how we live in a constructed world. At the same time, place is also a condition of power—social power is always emplaced.

Power is recognised as a prominent influence in landscape construction and reading, with transmission of power and ideology through control of space, and through structures and symbolism including representations in architecture, gardens and townscapes (Ashmore 2004:264; Burke 1999; Graves 2003; Graves-Brown 2016; Heath 2016; Kealhofer 1999; Leone 1984). In the context of a capitalist world, social relations have an economic component to them, again related to power. Considering landscapes in particular, economic power is wielded not only through ownership and use of land itself, but through structures effecting access to land. Bender (1993a) identified power in landscapes extending through time and governing access to particular places, using the example of access to, and different understandings of, Stonehenge in terms of

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representations of power. In more historically situated examinations, Hardesty (1998), Delle (1998), and Shackel (2000) all investigated power inherent in provision of labour and access to resources as identifiable through specific landscapes. They each emphasised the differences in engagements with these landscapes, which are dependant on an individuals’, or groups’ position and view. Power can also be exerted in subtle and subversive ways, as Battle Baptiste (2010) demonstrated through the examination of structuring and use of spaces, particularly domestic and yard spaces, dominated by women and children from captive families living on a plantation in antebellum Tennessee. In her examination of Andrew Jackson’s Hermitage plantation, Battle Baptiste also examined the role of the Ladies Hermitage Association, a twentieth century community group. The concept of world view and multiple interpretations of landscapes can be applied not only to people in the past, but also to communities and researchers investigating that past. There are any number of readings that can be provided, dependent on an individual or group’s research framework, worldview and the context of the research. If consideration is given to the experiential and ideological position of the interpreter (e.g. the archaeologist), it becomes apparent that there is a risk of giving primacy to a personal reading in constructing a picture of the past, creating another in a multitude of possible readings (Bender 1993b:246–248; Gosden and Head 1994; Layton and Ucko 1999:11). It is recognised that it is impossible to understand exactly how any person in the nineteenth century perceived their landscape or what specific meaning it had for that individual. However, by careful contextualisation and with recourse to critical assessment of historical documents it is possible to substantiate some interpretations of meanings. Research carried out on prehistory in Europe, and the wealth of research on Australian Indigenous landscapes, demonstrate the embedded and reflexive nature of landscape. These approaches can equally be considered for historical contexts and can provide another outlook on how Australian settler society engaged with and created meaning in the landscape, as well as constraining ‘others’ by these ideologically and physically constructed landscapes. In fact, the entire gamut of components of landscape bear re-examination in the context of an historic rather than a ‘prehistoric’ arena of investigation. In historical applications, landscape studies have sometimes been regarded as purely economic and functional interpretations (Ashmore 2004:260), but landscape approaches move beyond this viewpoint, as will be addressed shortly.

Scale As well as having a multiplicity of meanings, landscape can be recognised as multi-­ scalar; this is a fundamental part of any approach to analysis of landscapes. In terms of scale, here I am talking about geographic scale (in contrast to cartographic or methodological scale (Head 2008:379)). Scale in landscapes, especially when linked with ideas of globalisation and networks, can be expressed at local, regional

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and national levels, and locality and regions themselves can vary in terms of scale, expanding and contract under the influence of both external and internal factors (Ashmore 2004:262; Head 2008:379; Sims 2001:74). Landscapes do not remain static. Scale at a local level of household and community can encompass the locus of action of everyday life at home, in public and at work, constructing a landscape of activity and agency. Household and community scale can stretch out into neighbourhoods and social networks that extend beyond settlements (Prangnell and Mate 2011). Households and settlements in industrial and resource landscapes are activated to encompass areas of resource collecting (whether it be harvesting, getting timber or mining ore bodies), which are integrated into/act at a regional scale in a colonial framework. In turn these activities are part of global economic structures and resource networks (as we will see in the next chapter). Just like the landscape itself, the scale of a particular landscape is socially constructed. In other words, it can operate at several different scales at once, and can have quite different dynamics and meanings at that same time across those separate scales. The contribution of social networks at different geographical distances for example can influence the scale of social landscapes. The colonial social and political framework was a major element of the context of gold mining in Queensland, with scale a factor in the tension between local actions and agency, and national and international social, political and economic structures. Local scales of action may intersect with the global circulation of ideas, technologies, consumer habits, and cultural values or beliefs. These influences in turn are observable at a local level in the archaeological record, seen in the artefacts of domestic and industrial activities, and documented in written records and accounts of life. It must be recognised that with respect to scale there is a relationship between space and time (Head 2008; Orser 2010). Temporal and spatial rhythm (Head 2008, p. 381) are intrinsic elements in understanding cultural landscapes; that is, scales can change through time, spaces can expand and contract, or be more or less frequently accessed and used, and the way spaces/places are encountered and for what purpose—linked to broader-scale activities such as global economies and/or multi-­ faceted encounters with place—can change. Different scales may even be intermixed, and held simultaneously (Head 2008, p. 383). In the context of nineteenth century Queensland for example, multiple scales can be held in tension with activities variously related to pastoralism across broad acres, resource settlements, railway networks, and surveying across whole portions of the colony. (As an aside, these present another facet of the multiplicity of meanings held in opposition in a landscape.) The notion of multi-scalar can also encompass the extent of a mentally envisaged landscape. Imagined scale can be held locally or broadly and can change, expanding and contracting with knowledge and narratives. Just as Thomas (2001:173 citing Heidegger (1971:157)) has argued that “although people can only ever be in one place at a time, their dwelling pervades a much more extensive area”, so an immediate landscape of activity does not preclude a more extensive landscape of action and understanding. The relationships between people and the journeys undertaken at different times, and with different frequencies, help to compose the scale of a

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person’s landscape. Although we may only have traversed and experienced a landscape transiently or irregularly, these experiences impinge themselves on our understanding, the internal ‘map’ of our landscape (see Appleton 1994). Places and things can be out of sight and yet still be part of the perceived or understood landscape. Landscapes can even be measured or imagined in time rather than distance: half an hour to travel to such a place. In this sense, imagined landscapes also change, not only in scale but also through time, changing in extent and nature as our experience and spheres of activity alter. These concepts of landscape—scale, structure, meaning and mutual constitution—while acknowledged by researchers of historical archaeology, are more fully engaged with by researchers of European prehistory and Australian Indigenous archaeology. Examinations of historical landscapes are predominantly based on ideas of semiotics, spatial patterning and projections of power, treating landscapes as settings for actions. However, as recent research in contact period landscapes in Australia has shown, there are very real opportunities to engage with landscapes in a more complex manner.

Landscapes in Historical Archaeology While landscapes are commonly conceived of in archaeological terms as multi-­ vocal, mutually constituted and operating over varying scales, in historical archaeology previous landscape approaches are considered by some as having been more modestly applied—in descriptions of “social and economic dimensions of land use”—and landscape as a theoretical concept is perceived to have been used “primarily… in terms of colonial gardens” (Ashmore 2004:258–9; Spencer-Wood and Baugher, 2010). Amongst others, Leone (1984), Yamin and Metheny (1996), Kealhofer (1999), Heath (2016) and Delle (1998) have applied concepts of landscape to garden structures in particular. However, in doing this they recognise transmissions of power and ideology, identifying the use of structures and boundaries of the gardens in the making of meaningfully composed space. Further, as others have argued (e.g. Orser 2010; Paynter 2000), when the range of work is examined more closely it becomes apparent that the application of landscape approaches in historical archaeology is far more complex than a theoretical concept used only for colonial gardens, and provides an effective research framework for investigations of power, identity and colonial industries.

Landscapes of Power Leone’s (1984) investigation of the William Paca garden in Annapolis USA was a seminal work on landscape in historical archaeology. He examined the role of objects and argued that the ordering of objects in history (including gardens) was an

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expression of ideology used to illuminate hierarchies (Leone 1984:27). Leone also considered ideas about the embeddedness of social relations in landscape, observing an objective of “making them appear to be resident in nature or history … (making) them apparently inevitable” (Leone 1984:26), and linking these processes with Paca’s position of power and a desire to perpetuate and authenticate his status. Leone’s analysis set the scene for critiques that emphasised the opportunity for recognising different interpretations based on worldview and for examining gendered landscapes, landscapes of identity, ethnicity and class, and for recognising social agency, multiple views of landscapes and ideas of perception, power, subordination and subversion in labour landscapes (Burke 1999:4; Johnson 1989:195; Spencer-Wood and Baugher, 2010). For example, Kealhofer (1999:59) pointed out that Leone’s work regarded landscapes as “settings for action, rather than as an active component in the construction of meaning and social relationships”. Kealhofer’s (1999) own examination of the landscapes of colonial Chesapeake considered how colonists moving to the region in the seventeenth century conceived and constructed their landscapes. She identified both these cultural traces on the landscape through an examination of the social context of the area. She demonstrated the actions of individuals in shaping their local landscape within the structuring influence of capitalist society, perpetuating social identity (Kealhofer 1999:66–68). Delle’s (1998) examination of coffee plantations in Jamaica considered the influence of social status on not only how a landscape is laid out but also how it is perceived by those living in it. He identified distinct spatial structuring: “class stratified space” (Delle 1998:135), with overseers granted their own space within the industrial complexes of coffee plantations, while the “great houses” of the owners were located in prominent positions away from the coffee processing. In contrast, slaves occupied defined spaces, allocated by the elite, in areas “marginal to coffee production” (Delle 1998:144). However, the internal organisation of these spaces was controlled by the slaves and reflected a duality of space with “provision grounds”, for example, regarded as being the possession of slaves while also being regarded as owned by the plantation (Delle 1998:145–153). This demonstration of overt power and subversive power is also a theme in the analysis by Battle Baptiste (2010) of a Tennessee plantation landscape. Battle Baptiste (2010) examined the agency of captive Africans in creating a landscape that established domestic and community space, provided social boundaries between “work” and “home” and facilitated cultural production. Both Battle Baptiste and Delle effectively examined meanings held within landscapes through the lenses of labour and power, and demonstrated a degree of agency in the use of landscapes. These approaches were contained in a bounded landscape particularly of plantation spaces, rather than the broader landscape. Urban landscapes have also been shown to create and perpetuate hierarchies of power through structuring of space, visual emphasis and expressions of power using architecture, landscape location and segregation of space (Baugher 2010; Burke 1999; Orser 2011; Spencer-Wood 2010). These same urban landscapes serve to transmit identity.

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Landscapes of Identity In urban and suburban landscapes architecture can be interpreted as transmitting social ideology, illuminated particularly through patterns of space and placement which contribute to constructions of identity (Burke 1999; Graves 2003). Burke (1999) expressly considered how stylistic features in architecture “function semiotically” in defining social identity (Burke 1999:218) and how these styles reflect ideology (much in the same way that Leone regarded Paca’s garden). She found status was reflected in the location of houses in the landscape, with high status residences being established in visually dominant positions (1999:165). She also suggested that “membership in a particular social class … influence(s) the stylistic construction of identity” (Burke 1999:219) and further identified that elements of style were used to assert both identity and resistance to capitalism. Graves (2003) looked at townscapes and differences in uses of space to identify how people constructed and articulated their social identity. She used an emphasis on “the material townscape as an environment in which patterns of social life were made possible, understood and lived” (Graves 2003:31). Graves argued that “there is a recursive relationship between economic and civic power, the locations of people’s livelihoods and the practices by which social identities were reproduced” (Graves 2003:31). She identified the changing spatial focus of ritual ceremony as related to “social topography” (Graves 2003:38) and suggested that the inclusion and exclusion of people further (re)created this landscape. She argued that the distribution and appointment of houses through Newcastle-upon-Tyne were also critical to construction of identity and considered how the material environment could be used by “others” to subvert these constructions. In a broader interpretation of the landscape of a settlement, Lightfoot et  al. (1998) similarly considered the use of space in a study of social identity in inter-­ ethnic households at Fort Ross in California (Lightfoot et al. 1998:203). Like others, they found that “class and status differences…were visibly constituted in the spatial layout of the Fort Ross Colony” (Lightfoot et al. 1998:207). Further, their analysis pointed to different cultural practices being carried out in the layout of residential space and the spatial ordering of daily routines (Lightfoot et al. 1998:208). Specifically they found a plurality of worldviews: the structuring principles for different groups worked at different scales, again demonstrating agency in the actions of different groups. The approach of Lightfoot et  al., using a range of scales of analysis, illustrated that managers had control of overall spatial patterning of the landscape, while individual neighbourhoods and individual households were spatially organised according to specific cultural practices (Lightfoot et al. 1998:215). Investigations of inter-ethnic household sites in the Native Alaskan neighbourhoods showed that although Native Alaskan principles were employed in the spatial organisation of the village (predominantly influenced by Alutiq hunters), organisation of individual households and domestic life, and use of domestic space, was most strongly influenced by Native Californian women resident in the household (Lightfoot et al. 1998:211). Lightfoot et al. clearly demonstrated concepts of social

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ideology reflected in use of space, and in particular the need for consideration of more than one interpretation of landscape, dependent on world view. Several studies have been undertaken in Australia examining primarily European settler landscapes as landscapes of ‘contact’. This includes the work by Harrison (2002, 2004), Paterson (2005a, b, 2006), Strang (1999), Gill and Paterson (2007) and Godwin and L’Oste Brown (2002). These investigations approached ‘shared’ landscapes by examining how Indigenous people and (mostly) European settlers created and shared (or competed for) landscapes and places. Most examinations of pastoralism in Australia have been identified as ‘contact’ studies, perhaps an inaccurate label as many of these works have examined a long history of interaction, rather than focusing on initial contact alone. Gill and Paterson (2007) for example regard pastoral landscapes as entangled and productive places for Aboriginal people. Other researchers, such as Head (2000) and Byrne (2003), have seen shared landscapes as ‘contested’, pointing out exclusion, subversion and alternate ways to move through, and different understandings of, landscapes. This body of work has considered embedded relationships or connection to country/place, emphasising knowledge and custodianship; acknowledgement of connection to place is an overall strength in landscape approaches to contact histories. The recognition of deeper engagement with place is eminently suitable to investigations of historical landscapes, where approaches to predominantly European settler-landscapes has largely emphasised resource getting and environmental change. Research in Australia into Indigenous landscapes can be considered to be at the forefront of landscape research. For example, work by David (2002), Taçon (1999), Morphy (1993), McNiven (2004, 2016), McNiven and Feldman (2003), Russell (2016), and McNiven and Russell (2005) all clearly present complex and engaged views of landscapes. There is an opportunity for historical archaeologists to more fully engage with this dialogue, and identify a more textured engagement in historical landscapes, not only in industrial contexts but as a whole in approaching settler landscapes. One of the few examples of this engagement is the work by Mary Casey on the landscape of the Sydney domain, which examined “how the landscape was modified as an expression of British identity and power” (Casey 2006:87).

Landscapes of Industry A range of socially-based interpretive frameworks have been successfully used for historical archaeology studies of industry (particularly mining) and associated settlements, including examinations of landscape, power and gender (for example see Baldwin and Duke 2005; Belford and Ross 2004; Douglass 1998; Hardesty 1998; Metheny 2002, 2007; Shackel 1996; Sheridan 1998). In North America, Karen Metheny (2002, 2007), conducting a landscape-based examination the company-­ run coal mining town of Helvetia, identified a number of elements in the structuring of landscape that reflect differences in status in the community. She also examined aspects of corporate paternalism and ethnicity as reflected in the landscape of a

Summary

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company town. Helvetia was interpreted as a community that used material culture and the physical alteration of space to establish sense of identity, within the “corporate ideology”. Many features in the company town conveyed “a duality of meaning” as a result of the intersection of the corporate landscape and the individuals inhabiting it, with the co-opting of space a manifestation of contested meanings (Metheny 2002:504, 579). Donald Hardesty (1998, 2010) focused on the American mid-west, concentrating his interpretations on power in the landscape. He identified a culture of dominance in mining companies that sought to control “acts and beliefs” and create specific social order (Hardesty 1998:88). Hardesty also identified resistance strategies that minimised class and ethnic distinctions (1998:92) and in contrast to the hierarchical organisation of company towns, he found that individuals and their social groups adopted more situational, flexible forms of organisation that could be considered heterarchical (Hardesty 2010). In an examination of a company town in Australia, Chauvel and Flexner (2020) found that inherited spatial patterning that transmitted power and status were perpetuated in the company settlement of Darlington on Maria Island, Tasmania, acting to present workers as a uniform mass, and yet individually workers demonstrated a “unique response of each household to their social differences and physical environment”. These approaches focused on spatial occupation across the landscape in construction of identity and emphasised the actions (and agency) of individuals and groups in subverting the structuring principles of their social context. They also acknowledged the integration of industry in the social structure of the towns. Investigations focused on landscapes of industries have been carried out by Australian researchers such as McGowan (1992), Gibbs (1997) and Jackman (1995). These researchers acknowledge the relational networks of landscapes, their approaches (like the work of Leone) leading the way locally in landscape-scale frameworks, although the landscapes themselves remain as a backdrop for human action rather than identifying the embodiment of meaning and structure. Lawrence (2004), Lawrence and Davies (2011) and Casella (2006) have also provided overviews of social approaches to investigations of industries, identifying landscape frameworks as being well represented in the context of historical archaeology research in Australia. Landscape-based studies of mining, primarily focused on structuring of space and collective meaning, can further tease out nuanced cultural understandings and deeper considerations of personal attachments of meaning.

Summary Although landscape-based research in historical archaeology has been more complex than an application to colonial gardens, the use of landscape approaches in historical archaeology does need to be deepened to acknowledge concepts of social constitution, engagement and meaningful encounters together with ideas about multi-vocality and transformation. This study attempts to fill this void.

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Since its adoption in geographical, sociological, anthropological and archaeological theoretical discourse, the concept of landscape has become increasingly more complex and nuanced. It is a particularly powerful vehicle for examining culturally constructed environments. Landscapes are recognised as meaningful, engaged and humanly constructed, both physically and conceptually and are experienced bodily. Landscapes are dialectically encountered, being both the outcome and the provider of cultural understanding, and can reflect structuring principles of the society by which they are made and encountered. Landscape as a theoretical framework suggests itself as a suitable approach for the study of nineteenth century gold-mining settlements.

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Chapter 3

Colonial Mining: A Global Historical Context

One of the primary elements in colonial enterprise and a factor in the movement of colonial frontiers in Australia (and elsewhere including South Africa, Canada and the USA) was mining. In nineteenth century Australia, this was dramatically realised through a gold rush epoch. A global phenomenon, gold rushes for Australia were a national economic imperative, and a local reality. This chapter explores how gold rushes led to the large scale movement of people, the realisation (in some instances) of social mobility, the movement and adaptation of technology (both conceptually and physically), and the transformation of landscapes. Along with the mineral resources won through mining and the resultant economic boon, there was a concomitant move towards changing access to land and transformation of that land into a resource. In some parts of Australia frontier mining was the primary impetus for taking land from Aboriginal people. In other parts mining laid over the top of pastoralism, the first catalyst for wresting and destructively altering landscapes that had been actively used and managed, inscribed and cared for under custodial traditions by Aboriginal people for millennia (Harrison 2002; Wilson and David 2002). Landscapes were transformed into colonial resources—a “codifying” of the newly occupied land (Harrison 2002), where access was legislated and controlled by government—and the land itself treated as an economic resource. In Australia, and more specifically the nineteenth century colony of Queensland, there were particular social and political contexts that led to the gold rushes—part of the global impact of changing political, economic and social landscapes wherever gold was discovered, including the region of the Upper Burnett.

Global Gold Rushes The second half of the nineteenth century saw remarkably large increases in gold production across the world, resulting from “Anglo-American settler colonialism” and capitalist developments (Ngai 2015; Reeves et al. 2010). These events produced © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 G. Mate, Mining the Landscape, Contributions To Global Historical Archaeology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-12906-3_3

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occurrences of settler-led commodification of minerals across three continents— North America, Africa and Australia, even reaching to the island nation of New Zealand—with the expansion of gold supply taking place in a series of convulsive activities that began in California in 1848 (Reeves et al. 2010:112). The discovery of gold in California is considered to have been the first global mining rush (Hardesty 2010). Between 1848 and 1897 gold rushes occurred across the world—commencing in North America in California, frontier rushes were subsequently seen in British Columbia at Fraser River in 1858, on the Klondike-Yukon from 1896 to 1899 (Morse 2009), and at Nome from 1899 to 1906. In Africa rushes included Ghana in the 1870s and South Africa in the Transvaal in 1886 (Bryceson 2018:42). In Australasia, large rushes occurred in the colony of Victoria in Australia in 1851, and in the Otago region of New Zealand in 1861. The rush for gold continued across Australia through the 1860s, 1870s and beyond (Blainey 1993; Hill 2010; Lawrence and Davies 2011). Australian gold production, in world terms in the second half of the nineteenth century, was second only to the USA (Reeves et al. 2010:117), with the rest of the world producing the remaining third. With the discovery of gold in the Transvaal, South Africa progressively became the major gold producer across the world, and South Africa, the USA and Australia together made up 75% of the world’s gold production until at least the 1920s (Mudd 2007a). The impetus for gold exploration in Australia could be considered a politically driven initiative reacting to straightened colonial economic circumstances, with the California rush of 1848 acting as a model for the emphasis on gold mining as a solution. The resultant flurry of activity in Australia led to a number of small finds being realised, and prompted changes to legislation allowing miners to dig for gold under licence (Blainey 1993:12–19). The colonial government of New South Wales had put up a reward for the discovery of payable gold in 1849, in part as a bid to reduce the exodus of men to the California gold rush. Rather ironically, the first official discovery of ‘payable gold’ in early 1851 near Bathurst in New South Wales was credited to a returned ‘forty-niner’, and Australia’s first (though modest) gold rush ensued (Blainey 1993; Hill 2010). By late 1851 the Victorian gold rush was also under way with discoveries at Clunes, Warrandyte, and Ballarat within a short space of time (Blainey 1993:30–32; Hill 2010; Lawrence and Davies 2011). While not of the scale of the California gold rush, the discovery of gold at Ballarat resulted in over 5000 people making their way to the field within two months. Yet, despite workable quantities of gold remaining, the field was quickly deserted with the discovery of gold at Mount Alexander and then Bendigo. At Mount Alexander an estimated 20,000 miners arrived in the first three months—a considerable showing in a colony with a population approximately 58,000 men at that time (ABS 2019). During the peak of mining activities, miners won huge amounts of gold—up to 3000 ounces in just seven weeks—and by 1855 there were estimated to be over 100,000 men on the goldfields (Blainey 1993:33–42). Over the next three years, and as a result of variable fortunes, mining across individual fields in Victoria ebbed and flowed, and the individual miners and informal groups of the early gold rush gave way to mining companies (Blainey 1993:49); by the early 1860s the Victorian gold rushes had ceased (Blainey 1993:58).

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This pattern, seen in New South Wales and Victoria in the early 1850s, was played out in similar forms over the next 50 years across the rest of Australia. In Queensland, after an abortive rush to Canoona near Rockhampton in 1858, gold mining took off in the 1860s, commencing with Gympie and Cape River in 1867 and continuing with a major rush to Palmer River in 1873. In the Northern Territory, gold mining began at Pine Creek in 1871, while in Western Australia, almost 10,000 people made their way to Halls Creek (in the Kimberley) from 1886–1888, and in the 1890s the major goldfields of Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie came to prominence (Blainey 1993; Hill 2010; Lawrence and Davies 2011). Gold production in Australia across time first saw prolific gold production from the 1860s to the 1900s, followed by a resurgence in activity with the Great Depression. Gold again rose in terms of productivity in the 1980s (Mason et  al. 2013), at which time profoundly different technologies for both mining and gold extraction, on a much larger scale, resulted in a somewhat altered industry (albeit an industry that still referenced back to the colonial gold rushes). In their contribution to the colonial (and thence country’s) economy, the Australian gold rushes of the nineteenth century can therefore be seen as part of a “universal theme of population movement for economic gain” (Lennon 2000:73), a theme that has extended to the ‘Fly in-Fly out’ model of gold (and other resource) mining in the twenty-first century. The economic imperative and impact of gold mining that began in the second half of the nineteenth century was seen across the world. In Australia it played out in bursting spectacle, experienced within the colonial context and accompanied by an attendant movement of people.

Economic Imperative and Impact Not only did Australian gold-mining contribute to the global economy of the nineteenth century, on the back of colonial enterprise the resource sector created a need for a mobile workforce and large-scale manufacturing to supply consumables and equipment. At this time, Britain was at the centre of a monetary system of global market and was by far the largest capital exporter (Jones 2015; Reeves et  al. 2010:116), and the mechanism of the gold standard (adopted more broadly in the second half of the nineteenth century) was controlled predominantly by Great Britain (Osterhammel 2014: 458; Jones 2015:18). Britain was regarded as being at the centre of this monetary system and integral in the move towards global capital markets (Jones 2015:18). This was a global economy driven by imperialism. In concert with the emerging global economic reach, geographical distance decreased by virtue of new and improved technologies of transport and communication, between and across countries and continents (Jones 2015:25; Reeves et  al. 2010:115). Development went hand in hand in the mid-nineteenth century with an “unprecedented mobility of labour”; the diffusion of modern economic growth created an accelerated search for raw materials leading to exploitation of natural resources and the need for labour, feeding into the global market and linked to

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success for both market investors and governments (Jones 2015; Reeves et  al. 2010:117). This set the scene for gold rushes experienced in Australia, and the “modern industrial enterprise”. Victoria was at the forefront of this enterprise—gold production in the mid-nineteenth century saw Victoria produce almost one-third of the world’s gold output (Lawrence and Davies, 2011:150)—although by the 1870s this mantle was passing to Queensland, which by the 1890s supplied a third of Australia’s gold output (Evans 2007:112; Mudd 2007b). Promises of extraordinary economic gain associated with gold mining were often unfulfilled for miners, who at times did not make enough income to even sustain themselves (Eifler 2017; Nash 1998; Reeves et al. 2010). Furthermore, nineteenth century miners were not all solitary ‘diggers’ seeking personal wealth. The goldfields of California in the USA, of Victoria and Queensland in Australia, and later those of the Transvaal in South Africa were made up of a combination of artisanal miners (also known as tribute miners) (Bryceson 2018), family and small business/miner consortiums (Ngai 2015), together with companies that employed miners for a wage, the latter appearing as the winning of gold became more complex and requiring more capital investment as alluvial deposits were mined out. In concert with the global capitalist economy, local events saw micro-economies associated with the supply to goldfields spring up. For many who flocked to the goldfields, the road to economic success was not through the discovery of gold but instead through the selling of goods. Trade networks to supply goldfields (with food, manufactured equipment etc.) provided not only personal gain, but also saw a ripple of economic impacts away from the goldfields, with supply and manufacturing more reliably profitable than gold mining itself (Nash 1998; Reeves et al. 2010). The need for equipment for mining and the manufacturing of that equipment was only one element. On the California gold fields for example, food (particularly perishables such as fruit and vegetables), clothing and footwear, alcohol and soft drink (soda), saddlery and building products were all in demand from suppliers. Just as the California gold rush was seen as global with the arrival of people from Europe, Asia and Australasia to the California goldfields, the reflected ripples outwards proved equally as global. The investment of capital from across the world, together with the arrival of people and supplies, led to the establishment of transport links through Mexico, the acquisition of Chilean supplies of wheat, flour, fruit and beef, impacts in labour and labour practices in the Pacific, and even interest in metal production and boat building from Scandinavia (Nash 1998). Similarly in Australia, in the earliest days of the Victorian gold rush foodstuffs, alcohol, building materials, and other supplies were imported from Britain, Europe and the USA, and success on the goldfields most often came to those who supplied goods and services (Blainey 2010). Infrastructure development went hand in hand with successful supply ventures and capital investments; it was this infrastructure that had an impact on the growth of cities. Melbourne (in Victoria, Australia), for example, grew from a veritable village to a city on the back of the gold rush (Osterhammer 2014:257), while the nearby Victorian mining towns of Bendigo and Ballarat formed a type of “up-­ country urbanisation” that saw a significant urban population outside of

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metropolitan Melbourne (Fahey 2010). The new towns featured grand municipal buildings and private homes with impressive architecture, together with infrastructure such as water supplies, the development of railways, and the provision of parks and gardens, that all boasted of accrued wealth (Blainey 2010; Lawrence and Davies 2011:150,160). The swift urban growth of Victoria was associated with gold mining—enabled through the investment of newly acquired wealth into the local economy and most of all though the movement of people, from around Victoria, from elsewhere in Australia and from overseas (Fahey 2010; Hill 2010; Lawrence and Davies 2011; Reeves et al. 2010).

Movement of People The growth of regional towns through the 1850s gold rushes of Victoria was one manifestation of the impacts of in and out-migration, linked with the rise and fall of mining success in centres such as Bendigo and Ballarat (Fahey 2010:159). In Victoria, along with considerable growth in capital wealth, population growth was significant, with migration resulting in the population of Victoria growing almost four-fold in the four years between 1851 and 1855, from 97,000 to almost 350,000 people (ABS 2019). This increase was not only the outcome of the movement of miners, but also a measure of migration, bringing people from elsewhere to the thriving colony. By comparison, the California gold rush, considered the largest continuous migration of people in history of the United States of America (USA), saw 80,000 people arriving in California in 1849 alone and a population of approximately 300,000 “whites” by 1854 (Bryceson 2018). The 1858 gold rush in Colorado saw similar movements of people (Osterhammel 2014: 331). In Alaska (USA), Witwatersrand (South Africa), and in Victoria and New South Wales (Australia), rushes of similar scale (although numerically smaller), occurred at a localised level. (It is worth noting that in all of these cases it was women and children, as well as men, who relocated.) While contextually different from the North American rushes of California, Alaska and Colorado, gold rush accounts from Australia reflect similar narratives related to the mass movement of European settlers, accounts of physical hardship, the common (but less-commonly articulated) dispossession of the land from Indigenous custodians, and the relatively short-lived nature of the rushes. In the mid-late nineteenth century, different parts of Australia saw the same events occur again and again, with migration of people to gold finds within and across the colonies of Victoria, New South Wales, Queensland, and Western Australia, and to the tin and copper fields of Tasmania and South Australia. This was however not just a migration of British settlers, but instead was a much more ethnically diverse population interchange. For example, between 1851 and 1861, Victoria’s population growth from less than 100,000 to 540,000 included “Germans, other Europeans, Americans (mostly from California), and around 40,000 Chinese” (Lawrence and Davies 2011:149).

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The ethnic diversity in Victoria, and particularly the Chinese diaspora, resulting from the movement of people related to mining, mirrors events in California (Osterhammel 2014; Ngai 2015), and to some extent in South Africa (Richardson 1977). Chinese gold miners made up to 25% of population in California in the USA and a similar proportion in Victoria in Australia (Ngai 2015). The arrival of Chinese miners in California were the result of a combination of indentured labour, contract labour, and free travellers participating in the rush. In Victoria, the first Chinese that arrived came on credit tickets, although some may have been indentured labour (Ngai 2015). In comparison, by the 1900s in Transvaal it is estimated that well over 60,000 Chinese miners arrived as indentured mine labour, an outcome of colonial exploitation (Richardson 1977). In Victoria, as for other parts of Australia, many of the Chinese miners arrived as gold seekers (Bagnall 2011). A largely male contingent, Chinese miners nevertheless had strong familial relationships and cultural ties that assisted in syndicated work and business partnerships (Bagnall 2011; Ngai 2015; Sheng 2011). These miners worked in informal and formal partnerships, cooperatives and companies, the business arrangements maximising economic success and minimising risk related to racial tensions (Ngai 2015). At the time of Queensland’s gold rushes in the north of Australia, Chinese miners made up almost half of the north Queensland migrant population, arriving as indentured labour, and as miners on credit tickets (Evans 2007). Chinese miners were just one part of the demographic expansion of Queensland, where migration schemes provided greater population growth than any other Australian colony. From 1860–1879, 114,000 British and European migrants arrived, and by 1881 around 60% of the colony of Queensland was foreign-born (Evans 2007). In the second half of the nineteenth century, mining was a primary motivator for movement of people, with possibly 50,000 people participating Queensland’s own rush at the Palmer River across the five years from 1873 to 1878.

Mining in Nineteenth Century Queensland If in Australia, the Victorian gold rush was characterised by an enormous, highly mobile and capricious body of miners, then the rushes of Queensland could be seen as frenetic, mobile and changeable, involving a diverse migrant group that gradually became localised, in place and more settled. In contrast to the larger rushes of the 1850s across the world, the movements of miners across Queensland were of a smaller scale, and in general terms more national than international. The amounts of gold won were not insubstantial, but paled into comparison to North America and South Africa. While firmly based in the social and political context of colonial Queensland, the flourishing of gold mining can nevertheless be contextualised within the narrative of gold rushes not only in Australia but globally. There is no doubt that the nineteenth century was a time of specific global economic and political climates that resulted in conditions that contributed to the occurrence of gold rushes (Hardesty 2003:83). And although there was a great deal of geographical

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mobility, particularly in mining towns in the USA, there was little social mobility, with miners continuing as a form of collective labour specialisation (Knapp 1998:4). However gold miners in Queensland did not necessarily fit either the “worker” stereotype or the restriction of “little social mobility”. Miners may have taken up gold mining in part from a desire to better themselves financially; there was also an element of being able to ‘re-invent’ themselves and to realise a conscious intent towards class mobility: families moved to a new place, and had not only the opportunity to gain economic improvement in their position, but may also have been able to aspire to (or even pretend to) a social identity previously unavailable to them. This social mobility is an important feature in examinations of the construction of social identity in mining communities such as those in nineteenth century Queensland. The selection of land via both mining and pastoralism was a fundamental facet of both economic gain for European settlers and in processes of colonial development and colonisation in Queensland. The impact of land acquisition was most pronounced in the contact history of white settlers and Aboriginal people. The social and political context had substantial bearing on the provision of land, the treatment on Indigenous groups and the perpetuation of a class-based societal structure. Economic climate played a role in this and had an impact on the attention to a mining industry in Queensland, and the impacts of these contexts were mirrored in microcosm in the Upper Burnett.

Colonialism and Race Relations Queensland was established as a colony of Great Britain in 1859, when it separated from the colony of New South Wales. New South Wales was the first British colony established in Australia with the arrival of the First Fleet in 1788. As Lawrence and Davies (2011:7) remark, this arrival was built on 200 years of British expansionist activities and, contrary to regular practice, the land was “simply taken” with no recourse to purchase or negotiation, with a legal doctrine of terra nullius used for acquisition of land. By the 1820s New South Wales technically encompassed the whole eastern seaboard of Australia, with colonial invaders acquiring land with no recognition of the rights of Indigenous inhabitants. Colonial expansion saw gradual movement north and south, particularly in search of suitable pastoral and arable land, resources including timber and minerals, and to establish penal colonies. A convict settlement was established on Moreton Bay (the location of the city of Brisbane today) in 1824 when the first party of convicts arrived, and in 1842 free settlement was permitted as agricultural and pastoral expansion moved further north past the penal colony (Evans 2007: 28, 53). The resultant arrival of European migrants and the establishment of a business and resource economy led to agitation for separation. Victoria had ceded from New South Wales in 1851 and eight years later, Queensland also broke away from New South Wales, becoming a colony in its own right in 1859. Gold exploration and the development of mining underpinned the new colony’s economic and expansionist policies.

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Across the entire advancing colonial frontier in Australia (in time and space) there were varying degrees of conflict between Aboriginal people and white settlers. Aboriginal people had a deep and long connection to the land, with land “owned and used according to a complex system of law, rights, responsibilities and spiritual associations, all of which were vested in clan estates” (Cole 2004). European settlers moving into these areas for the first time effected a dispossession of the land, resulting in a violent colonial frontier (McNiven and Russell, 2002; see also Ørsted-­ Jensen 2011). According to Reynolds (1987:154–157), some provision was made legally for Aboriginal people to maintain access to the land, but in reality this was almost wholly ignored. Aboriginal people were driven off their traditional land, and their access to food and water resources were restricted as a result of the provision of pastoral leases to squatters. Control was instituted by secondment of their labour (Evans 2007; Evans et  al. 1993; Reynolds 1987). The relationships between the original inhabitants and settler Australians have variously been seen in terms of “severe and prolonged struggle” (Evans et al. 1993:29), “power relations” (Thorpe 1996:42), “mutual and concurrent histories” (Harrison 2004:5), “persistent violence” (Evans 2007:93), “extermination” (Johnston 1982a:41) and “racial violence” (Reynolds 1987:viii). On the whole the relationship appears to have been one of conflict, conquest, control and in some instances extermination. Government policy, rather than addressing problems of conflict, added to them by both an initial lack of action and then with the solution. The creation of the Native Mounted Police Force in 1849 was one response by the government of what was then the colony of New South Wales to the perceived threat of attack (Barker et al. 2020). Residents in the Burnett district, at that time on the frontier of land expansion in the north, were key agitators for action to be taken and Native Mounted Police (NMP) were stationed at Traylan, near Gayndah, from November 1850 (Maitland Mercury 25 December 1850, 13 August 1853). This body is recognised for a history of atrocities against Aboriginal people, representing the institutionalisation of violence on the frontier, with indiscriminate killing under the guise of “dispersal” (Evans et al. 1993:55, 59–60; Richards 2009). Some estimates put the number of deaths of Aboriginal people as a result of frontier violence perpetrated by the NMP and settler-colonists in Queensland between 1859 and 1898 at over 40,000 people (Evans and Ørsted-Jensen 2014), or possibly even higher (Burke et al. 2020). As the mining frontier extended in the 1870s, Aboriginal people in the mining districts experienced even more pressure than had been experienced as the pastoral frontier extended Miners physically wrought extensive land changes, put additional strain on resources of food and most particularly placed great demands on water resources (Anderson 1983:483; Johnston 1982a:48). By the end of the nineteenth century, Aboriginal groups had their access to traditional country severely curtailed, had been killed by white settlers, had been decimated by illness and exploited as labourers. In 1897, the Aborigines Protection and the Restriction of the Sale of Opium Act was passed in Queensland. Seen as “the most significant piece of social legislation” passed in the 1890s, it was effecting racial segregation, particularly related to Aboriginal people, Torres Strait Islanders, and Asian (particularly Chinese) migrants (Evans 2007). As a result of this legislation, over the

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following years Aboriginal people were progressively rounded up and moved to reserves (Blake 2001; Evans et  al. 1993:110–122). This outcome of conflict, exploitation and ‘protection’ on the frontier, resulted in many Aboriginal people being largely separated from their traditional land. Further to this, the use of Aboriginal labour by European settlers was part of a widespread, unequal relationship  (although at times mutually beneficial (Harrison 2004:32–33)), the exploitation aiding the acquisition and maintenance of huge sheep and cattle runs by settler-colonists, where “a few people had vast land holdings” (Armstrong 2001:14). The use of Aboriginal labour by the “ruling class” of squatters was seen as having been a “coerced deference”, resulting in a form of “colonised labour” that fell only just short of slavery (Thorpe 1996:62–63). Many of the mineral rushes across Queensland occurred in “new contact zones” and on the colonial mining frontiers, Chinese miners moved in along with the European miners. As a result, conflict between Aboriginal people, European settlers and Chinese migrants was protracted, the outcomes described by Raymond Evans as “social dislocation, environmental wastage, ferocious racial struggle and immense individual suffering” (Evans 2007, p 104). By the late 1870s, it is estimate that three quarters of all overseas Chinese in Queensland lived in Far North Queensland and that the Chinese miners on the Palmer Goldfield were the largest Chinese community in the colony of Queensland (Burke and Grimwade 2013). In the Palmer River rush in the 1870s, Chinese miners were involved in loosely similar structural frameworks of labour and economics as earlier migrants in Victoria had adhered to. However they were regarded by the European settler population with suspicion and hostility, in particular as they had influenced the way alluvial mining was pursued, working in effective labour gangs that were prepared to toil at heavy, hot labour, successfully and productively extracting alluvial gold. This success meant they were met with prejudice, antagonism, and racial violence, and it resulted in frequent changes to mining legislation that actively and progressively escalated discrimination against them (Evans 2007:105–107; Kirkman 1980:129). Burke and Grimwade point out that in this environment the Chinese miners used processes of self-­ definition and collective identification that would have been continually negotiated in order to respond to changing social and political circumstances (Burke and Grimwade 2013). For the Chinese in Queensland, changing legislation led to increasing vilification for the community, one of more socially visible impacts of the quest for gold.

Exploration for Gold Although small gold deposits had been discovered in the Darling Downs through the 1850s (while still part of the colony of New South Wales), the first gold rush in the soon to be separated colony of Queensland was as a result of a discovery at Canoona near Rockhampton in 1858. The Canoona rush proved to be a relatively small deposit and was quickly stripped, yet thousands continued arriving at

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Rockhampton only to leave again, often destitute (Blainey 1993:81; Holthouse 1980:10–14; McGowan 2006:20). This had a detrimental effect on external views of the likely viability of Queensland gold mining; nevertheless, gold exploration continued. With Separation, government policy had emphasised a self-help regime. Financially, the new colony relied on revenue from the pastoralists however a banking collapse and the effects of drought led to financial disaster for the Queensland government and economic crisis. Although government economic policy averted state bankruptcy in 1866, it is generally believed that gold ‘saved’ the Queensland colonial government from financial ruin (Evans 2007:85; Fitzgerald 1982:128–130, 143–144). In an attempt to add to its income, the government initiated the exploration and mapping of mineral wealth, offering a reward of £3000 for the discovery of a payable new goldfield. The timely discovery of payable quantities of gold at Gympie in 1867 vindicated this push. In the first 12 months after the discovery, over 15,000 people descended on the location and more than 3000kgs of gold was mined (Blainey 1993:1–2; Fitzgerald 1982:129,157; Johnston 1982a:67, 206). Other discoveries of gold were made around the same time across Queensland (Fig.  3.1), with gold also found at Ravenswood, west of Townsville in 1867 (Roderick 1980) and at the Etheridge in north Queensland in 1869 (Wegner 1980). Exploration continued apace over the next few years with the discoveries of hard rock deposits of gold at Charters Towers in 1871–2 (Menghetti 1980), alluvial deposits at the Palmer River in 1873 (Kirkman 1980:113) and a deep deposit at Mount Morgan in 1880 (Evans 2007). As a result of mining exploration, not only were there extensions of the colonial frontier, but areas that had already been colonised due to the ongoing quest for pastoral land but were not heavily populated were also subjected to another wave of settlement by miners. This included towns such as Stanthorpe and Herberton for tin mining (Kerr 1992), Gympie and Charters Towers for gold, and Blair Athol for coal (Fitzgerald 1982:177; Whitmore 1981, 1985). This settlement wave was intense, not only increasing population densities of areas already occupied by Europeans for grazing but also prompting the arrival of large populations in remoter areas such as the Palmer River in North Queensland where gold exploration and mining was a primary factor in the impetus for settlement (Bell 1980:5; Fitzgerald 1982:157,179; Johnston 1982a:42). The Palmer River goldfield was remarkable for a number of reasons. The rush, which began in 1873, lasted approximately three years, after which gold production and population both fell off dramatically. In the early part of the Palmer’s life span, over 20,000 people made their way to the remote gold field (Kirkman 1980:113). Although this was considerably smaller than the rushes in Victoria, it was one of the largest rushes experienced in Queensland. The Palmer River rush was particularly significant due to the large number of Chinese miners who made their way to the goldfields—of the estimated population of 20,000 residing on the Palmer in 1877 over 18,000 were Chinese (Kirkman 1980:125). However, the Palmer gold rush was also distinguished by relatively short periods of activity in one location followed by a ‘rush’ to yet another alluvial deposit in the area. Mining at the Palmer River

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0

Palmer River Goldfield Hodgkinson Goldfield Croydon

Mount Isa

200

400 KM

Cooktown Annan River Tin Field Cairns Sites mentioned in text Cities/towns

Kidston Woolger Charters Towers Cape River Goldfield

Townsville Ravenswood Mackay Eungella

Mount Morgan

Rockhampton

Paradise Cracow

Mt Shamrock Gympie

Brisbane Forest Park

Brisbane

Fig. 3.1  Mining places in Queensland

declined in the 1880s, and although reef mining did continue, by the end of the nineteenth century the goldfield was all but deserted (Kirkman 1980). In contrast, Charters Towers quickly attracted a population of 3,000 miners and established itself as a prosperous field, touted in 1888 as the third most important goldfield in Australia by virtue of its consistent annual production and the anticipated longevity of the ore-body (Fitzgerald 1982:159,166). Much like the Victorian towns of Ballarat and Bendigo in the 1850s, investment and infrastructure came hand in hand with prosperity in Charters Towers, including the construction of a grandiose Stock Exchange building. However, in the early twentieth century, gold

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production fell away and by the commencement of World War I, the population and wealth of the town had dwindled. The other prominent mining settlement in the nineteenth century was Mount Morgan, one of the largest and longest-lived mines in Queensland. Gold was discovered there in 1882 (Blainey 1993; Fitzgerald 1982:172; Grabs 2000) and the mine was worked up until the late twentieth century. Mount Morgan was a unique prospect in Queensland mining, producing what was at one time the deepest open cut mine in the southern hemisphere and being responsible for introducing a number of gold and copper processing technologies to Queensland (Grabs 2000), such as flotation, cyanidation and copper precipitation. As the mine transformed from syndicated mining operations to a large scale company, it employed qualified metallurgists with international experience to oversee the gold and copper processing (Cosgrove 2001:30; Grabs 2000). The establishment of Mount Morgan was largely contemporary with the small Upper Burnett mining town of Mount Shamrock, and, although Mount Shamrock proved the lesser by orders of magnitude in terms of production and size of deposit, early newspaper speculation drew parallels between the two prospects with respect to the nature of the gold deposits (The Brisbane Courier 3 August 1886, 13 September 1886). The major fields of the Palmer, Charters Towers, Gympie and Mount Morgan have traditionally been the focal point of accounts of gold mining in Queensland, emphasising either the massive capital investment and prosperity of towns like Charters Towers, or the romantic tales of hardship and mateship from the Palmer. However, there were also many smaller goldfields across Queensland in the late nineteenth century—over 100 goldfields and many more associated townships having come into existence by the 1890s. These included mines in the southern and central parts of the state around Kingaroy, Rockhampton and Mackay, and a number of goldfields from Townsville north including Ravenswood, Croydon and the Hodgkinson goldfield (Fig. 3.1). There were also a number of small gold and silver mines in and around the state capital of Brisbane (Kerr 1992; Tresize 1989). The mines distributed across the Upper Burnett, including Mount Shamrock, typify these smaller-scale mining settlements—reflecting the ubiquity of gold mining as a potential source of economic prosperity and as a catalyst for settlement in the nineteenth century. However, mining did not necessarily mean long-term settlement. Generally speaking, while the discovery of alluvial gold led to the rushes that had transient populations and settlements, the discovery of reef gold generally gave longevity and stability to settlements. This is a somewhat simplistic model, however, as other factors including the size of the deposit, the relative ease of extraction, the availability of transport networks and distance to market, and the market itself had a profound effect on the viability of mining settlements. Mining is often used as a simple catch-­ all for a disparate range of activities related to winning gold—mining, alluvial winning, mineral processing, ore treatment, smelting and refining of gold—that encompassed a range of technologies. The technology of gold mining in nineteenth century Queensland was predominantly brought in from Britain, the USA and South

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Africa. Although some innovation was present on the goldfields of Queensland, it was generally the result of adaptation or alteration of existing technologies. Mining of alluvial deposits was carried out using picks, shovels and barrows or horse and cart although, in some cases, large scale sluicing using water was undertaken. In the 1900s, dredges came into use that were based on a water intensive approach, pumping alluvial sands in volume and using gravity separation to extract gold concentrates. Hard rock mining was carried out using hand tools such as picks, shovels and drills and explosives. Horse or steam powered windlasses and head frames were used for lifting and the ore was moved in carts. Waste or gangue material (often called overburden in open cut mining) was removed to access the ore body. The earth removed during tunnelling also was generally waste. This material was stockpiled as mullock heaps, often near the mineshaft, as additional carting of the waste material was an extra expense. Processing of gold from alluvial deposits used gravity separation in sluice boxes, amalgamation, and at times crushing was required. Processing of hard rock gold ore involved primary crushing and grinding (Fig.  3.2). This was followed by in-line amalgamation with mercury using copper plates mounted at the exit of the crushing Fig. 3.2 Schematic flowchart of mineral processing of gold

ORE

Crushing

Grinding

Separation Concentration Chemical Treatment

Amalgamation MERCURY Smelting

GOLD

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and/or grinding equipment, followed by gravity separation, and further amalgamation. The mercury-gold amalgam was accumulated and separately retorted to recycle the mercury and produce a gold sponge that could be melted and cast into an ingot. Crushing was predominantly carried out using stamper batteries, rock breakers or Columbian mills. (According to Petchey (2014), the stamper mills found in nineteenth century Australian sites evolved in California from the stamper mills used in Europe and Cornwall). Grinders such as arrastras, upright rocking mills, and ball and rod mills gave a finer reduction in grain size. Berdan, Denzler and Wheeler pans could also be used for grinding. In some cases amalgamation was combined with grinding in this equipment. The degree of comminution (reduction in size through grinding) was important as reduction had to be sufficient (i.e. grain size small enough) to release finely dispersed gold. This was necessary for both amalgamation (which relies on sufficient surface area of gold to be available to bond to the mercury) and for gravity separation (which relies on the density of the particle). Gravity separation processes particularly rely on the differences in density between gold and other minerals and waste material to work efficiently. For example, as gold is a heavy mineral, it is less likely to be transported to the side of a shaking riffle table (or Frue Vanner table) with a cross flow of water, therefore concentrating the heavy mineral on one side of the table. When bound up with lighter minerals, gold is less easily separated and can either be conveyed to the tailings (waste stream) or captured with less desirable base metals, in which case additional treatment is required to extract the gold, hence the importance of crushing and grinding to particular size particles. The occurrence of gold with other minerals can also lead to very high concentration of gold in the tailings or high amounts of impurities in the gold concentrates. The concentrated streams of minerals separated using gravity separation can be stockpiled as concentrate for transfer to smelters, or can be further treated either by amalgamation and retorting, or through chemical treatments such as chlorination and cyanidation. Tailings rich in gold can similarly be stockpiled and subsequently treated to extract the gold, most usually through chemical treatment. In the nineteenth century, chlorination was operated as a batch process that required the material being treated to be stockpiled, loaded into the chlorination vats for dissolution, and then removed from the vats when leached (Eissler 1900:360). The process used chlorine gas percolated through gold bearing material at pressure in vats or barrels. This formed a soluble gold compound which was then dissolved in water. The leachate was pumped into precipitating tanks where the gold was precipitated out of solution using an iron sulphate solution or charcoal (Anon 1887; Eissler 1900:360–365). At the end of this stage, the spent liquor was pumped away and the resultant gold-rich sludge was shovelled out of the vats by hand. Due to the nature of the chemical process, careful control of temperature, pressure and water flow was required to ensure efficient operation. The process was not suitable for sulphide rich ores or ores with base metals present, unless they were roasted and the other metals oxidised. Cyaniding or cyanidation is a chemical process that uses cyanide to dissolve (leach) gold out of finely crushed ore or tailings. The process uses a solution of

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sodium cyanide or potassium cyanide which is agitated with finely ground ore to convert the gold into a water soluble compound that is then leached out of the slurry. This solution is in turn separated from the slurry. The cyanide process can be a batch or a flow process depending on the configuration of the tanks used. Like the chlorination process, the gold-rich solution is sent to another series of vats to precipitate the gold and the tailings are discarded. In the nineteenth and early twentieth century, zinc dust or shavings were used to precipitate the gold. Electrolytic processes could also be employed for precipitation (Eissler 1900:515). The precipitation process presented a gold-rich sludge which was then further refined using smelting. The various stages of the cyanide process require careful control of temperature, flow and concentration of chemicals in order to operate effectively. Ores high in sulphides have to be roasted for this process to work. These processes were used successfully in a number of mining operations in Australia in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century and were widely documented in treatises on gold mining (Clark 1904; Eissler 1900; Kirke Rose 1906) and in journals such as the Queensland Government Mining Journal. At a local level knowledge was practically applied to introduce technologies in a range of physically different circumstances. For almost all technologies employed, water (Lawrence and Davies 2012; Tracey 1996) and fuel were critical resources, and additional technologies were employed to drive pumps, and to lift, crush, grind and move the ore. Despite the range of technology already being employed in gold extraction in the nineteenth century, meta-narratives proliferate in popular literature on historic gold mining (for example see Barrett 1951; Holthouse 1980; Idriess 1958)—stereotypes that emphasise lone prospectors with their pans, men living in rough and ready tent towns and large scale movement of people as typified by the Victorian rushes. Fitzgerald (1982:176) suggests that alluvial gold attracted the ‘diggers’ working for themselves, but the transition to reef mining required capital and management by a syndicate or company, resulting in a predominance of “wage-miners”. In reality, the picture of gold mining in Queensland was far more complex than this. The goldfields that were involved in rushes were much more geographically and socially remote than those of, for example, Ballarat and Bendigo. The scale was also different with hundreds or perhaps a few thousand people making the rush, rather than thousands to tens of thousands as was seen both in the south of Australia and in the rushes in the USA; and approaches to mining and mineral processing differed from place to place. Settlements ranged from small townships such as Mount Shamrock to the larger centres of Charters Towers and Gympie. The social landscape was also far more nuanced than this traditional picture, with women and children present on goldfields, and settlements being quickly established. The discovery of gold also brought a flood of non-property owners who took up land associated with mining settlements. In addition to miners and their families, people set up businesses supplying the local community and in some cases financially underwriting mines and miners. As new settlements developed, a range of administrative individuals often came as well. Finally, in contrast to the picture of individuals staking their claim and making their fortune, there was often a complex interplay of companies and

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individuals creating joint ventures operating on the Queensland fields. However, in keeping with the tough life on the goldfields characterised in accounts in popular Australian literature, gold miners and their families often lived in relatively remote areas, faced economic and physical hardships, had transport and equipment difficulties associated with isolation, and had to deal with administrative inconsistencies.

Access and Codification of Land The early focus of exploration and advancement of the colonial ‘frontier’ was the spread of the pastoral run. Contact between Aboriginal people and European settlers from the mid-nineteenth century saw both violent conflict and negotiated encounters (Cole 2004; Evans et al. 1993; Harrison 2004; McNiven and Russell 2002), as land was claimed for pastoralism—a pattern that was further exacerbated with the advent of the Native Mounted Police (Burke et al. 2020). The seizure of land for mining added another setting for conflict and problematic encounter. Following the establishment of the colonial centre of Brisbane in 1824, the frontier moved north and west: the Darling Downs (in the southeast) was settled by the early 1840s, and the Burnett in the late 1840s, with the frontier shifting north to Rockhampton by the 1850s. By this time townships such as Ipswich, Toowoomba, Maryborough, Rockhampton, Gladstone and Gayndah had also been established (Johnston 1982a:25, 29–31). Separation from the colony of New South Wales was granted in 1859 and the Colony of Queensland was proclaimed, resulting in the appointment of its own governing body. The first wave of settlement had occurred ahead of the sanction of the then New South Wales government. However the new government of Queensland introduced the Unoccupied Crown Lands Occupation Act of 1860 and the Crown Lands Alienation Act of 1860 (Cohen 1995:136), alienated land being Crown Land on which freehold title had been granted by the colonial government (Hannigan n.d.). These acts provided controls for settlement of Crown Land, land described by Evans (2007:92) as “basically converted Aboriginal lands, which were now being leased, sold and reused by their new occupiers”. The provisions of the Acts included the grant of 14  year leases to pastoral runs, on the condition that runs were stocked (Fitzgerald 1982:125–126). The result of this was a ‘rush’ on land from 1862 to 1866 in which almost two thirds of the Queensland landscape was transformed into pastoral runs (Evans 2007:86; Fitzgerald 1982:134). However the impact of climate on the viability of properties was extreme and there was a high rate of turnover for many pastoral runs. Added to this, many settlers acquired runs and then sold them on, continuing to explore the moving ‘frontier’ (Fitzgerald 1982:145).

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Fig. 3.3  Extract from map of Upper Burnett Pastoral Runs showing the division of the landscape c. 1878 (Unsettled pastoral District of Burnett. Department of Natural Resources 1998)

The Upper Burnett area reflected this history, being one of the earliest areas settled. A number of settlers (known as squatters—large acreage lease holders who made up a relatively elite class in the colony) had taken up pastoral leases on the Burnett between 1847 and 1848 including the Archer brothers, who took up Eidsvold station. William Humphreys and Henry Herbert together occupied both Ban Ban and Wetheron stations and William Walsh squatted on “Degilba” (later named Degilbo) station (Archer 1988; Johnston 1982a; Loyau 1897; Metcalfe 1998). Mount Shamrock was later established on this station (Fig. 3.3). These early stations of the Upper Burnett, including Wetheron, Degilbo, and Ban Ban, are still reflected in placenames and properties on the landscape today, despite closer settlement over more than 100 years. Continuing changes in government legislation on pastoral runs and the release of land for agriculture contributed to an increasingly stable settlement pattern across

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Queensland. The Pastoral Leases Act of 1869 led to a lessening of the land-grab of the early days and provided for a more stable occupation of the pastoral runs (Fitzgerald 1982:146). Almost in parallel, the Crown Land Alienation Act of 1868 began opening land for closer settlement and this was continued with the Liberal Land Act of 1884 that intensified the resumption of portions of pastoral runs to supply land for agricultural purposes. This led to further settlement, more densely occupied land and smaller agricultural lots (Cohen and Wiltshire 1995:146; Evans 2007:92; Fitzgerald 1982:145,150; Metcalfe 1998). The effects of the Liberal Land Act of 1884 and subsequent legislation, such as the Agricultural Lands Purchase Act of 1894 (Cohen and Wiltshire 1995:153) are observable in the Upper Burnett, with a number of stations returning leased property to the crown for closer settlement. The Degilba and Stanton Harcourt runs were amalgamated under the 1884 Act and given the name Degilbo Station (Metcalfe 1998:31; Stewart and Stewart 1981). The leaseholder, Walsh, also held the Chowey, Mungore, Coringa and Cattle Run leases and at its greatest extent Degilbo station occupied approximately 1,300  km2. However the north east portion was resumed and made available for agricultural settlement. This led to a reduction in the massive landholdings of Degilbo Station, although, to most intents and purposes, the resumed land was still under the control of Walsh until it was actually selected by settlers (Metcalfe 1998:32; Stewart and Stewart 1981). By the 1880s, the landscape of the Upper Burnett was therefore changing from the initial wide expanses of pastoral runs to more closely settled areas with associated hamlets and townships. Much of the land around Gayndah and along the Burnett was divided into smallholdings. A number of factors contributed to this pattern, including the selection of small holdings by German migrants in the Wide Bay and Burnett districts (Evans 2007:87–92). In 1893 the Queensland Co-operative Communities Land Settlement Act was passed, allowing the provision of up to 65 hectares of land for each (male) member of a cooperative community. Thirteen Queensland communes (communal farming settlements—a utopian approach to the pursuit of agriculture, based on socialist principles) were established at this time, three of which were settled in the Upper Burnett, near Gayndah (Metcalfe 1998:3). The communes of Byrnestown, Resolute and Bon Accord were developed in 1894 between Degilbo and Gayndah, further increasing the population of the Gayndah area (Metcalfe 1998:29). This preoccupation with acquiring land was a recurring theme in the settlement of the Upper Burnett, as it was for the rest of Queensland. In addition to agricultural lots, land could also be selected for Miners’ Homestead Leases, Garden Leases and Business Leases, all of which added to the extent of land transformed into smallholdings. By the 1900s agriculture was coming to the fore in the Queensland economy, although many of the selections gazetted by the government were too small to make farming economically viable (Fitzgerald 1982:191,195). Prickly Pear, already a problem in the late 1890s, also became a prominent aspect of the landscape, and by 1930s yet more small holdings had been taken up on the basis of Prickly Pear leases (land granted at low cost on the understanding that

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leaseholders would clear the lease of the highly invasive weed Prickly Pear (Freeman 1992:421)). Environmental factors also had an impact on the progress of the frontier and on the financial success or otherwise of the colony of Queensland. The settlers exhibited ignorance of the environment, both with respect to the extremes and variability of the climate, and in a lack of understanding of the ecological balance (as demonstrated by wholesale destruction of flora and fauna and the unsuitability of some landscapes for initial pastoral ventures using sheep) (Fitzgerald 1982:191–194). Settlers were vulnerable to climatic disasters with floods and cyclones creating extensive damage and cutting off supplies (Thorpe 1996:165). Droughts were especially disastrous to settlements and to the economy. The “Great Drought” of the late 1890s (also known as the Federation Drought) was so severe that some squatters had to abandon their runs (Fitzgerald 1982:151). Drought had an effect on mining as well with a lack of water problematic at different times from the Palmer in the north to Cania and Mount Shamrock on the Upper Burnett in the south east. In fact, approximately half of the first 50 years of European settlement in the colony were under drought. To add insult to injury, the droughts were often broken by floods the most severe being the flood of 1893 (Thorpe 1996:163–165). The physical problems encountered, together with changes in legislation and a gradual northward movement of the frontier of European settlement, were integral to understanding the settlement of Queensland. However, it is important to recognise that these events occurred in specific political and social contexts.

Politics, Economics and Class As a result of their control of much of the land, the squatters maintained economic and political ascendancy across the colony. ‘Big Men’, such as Arthur Palmer (political administrator, pastoralist and Premier of Queensland 1870–1874) and Thomas McIlwraith (capital investor and Premier of Queensland 1879–1883, 1888, 1893), had opportunities and financial backing as a result of the networks of the “quasi-­ aristocracy” (Walker 1988:92), giving them a stranglehold on land and power (Evans 2007:114–115; Thorpe 1996:149). In opposition, Samuel Griffith (Premier of Queensland 1883–1888, 1890–1893, Chief Justice of Queensland and first Chief Justice of the High Court of Australia) continued to argue, amongst other things, against land legislation that provided a basis for the power of squatters (Evans 2007:115; Joyce n.d.). In the operation of the pastoral industry, therefore, the naissance is seen of the class/status differentiations between the “squattocracy” and the governing officials who together made up the leading class in colonial Queensland, and the remainder of the population, including the dispossessed traditional owners. There were other social divisions related to land ownership, in addition to the ruling squattocracy. People owning smaller amounts of land, or managing larger pastoral leases for absent owners, formed a lower tier in the upper social order. Small town burghers, successful traders and small acreage selectors all fitted into

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the class structure below squatters, a “middle class” (Thorpe 1996:136, Walker 1988). By the 1880s, large numbers of British and European migrants were primarily occupied in working class occupations such as domestic service, commercial work, road, rail and telegraph construction and working for wages as miners (Evans 2007:112). Thorpe (1996:146) regarded miners working their own claims as working class. However this view conceals the range of occupations encompassed by ‘miner’. Hardesty (1994:131), examining mining towns in the American west made a finer distinction. He saw an elite class of mining capitalists and managers, an artisan class of skilled workers and a lower class of unskilled and semi-skilled labourers. Wurst (2006:193) has argued that using class to describe hierarchies presents a static, unchanging classification of people and their social roles. This criticism has validity particularly for considerations of nineteenth century colonial mining towns in Queensland. The provision of land and the encouragement of migration had yielded, in part, the particular social structure of the second half of the nineteenth century. However, the picture was much more complex at the level of individual communities. The reality points to a fluidity in class and status, particularly in isolated mining townships. There, not only was a new source of wealth present, distinct from land ownership, but land ownership itself was available as miners were able to select reasonable portions of land in the form of Homestead Leases. There were also enormous opportunities for the business-minded in what was basically a captive market. Further to this, ideas about social mobility facilitated by mining meant people’s behaviour differed from the expected conduct of typical ‘working class’ miners. The 1880s in particular saw variable employment and poverty in Queensland as a result of the continued influxes of migrants with limited employment opportunities, with a labour glut resulting in low wages. The economy was “based precariously upon fluctuating external demand for rural commodities” (Evans 2007:112). At the same time, mineral production was at its highest, especially gold which contributed around one third of Queensland’s total exports in the 1880s (Evans 2007:112; Thorpe 1996:129). Queensland’s participation in the Colonial and Indian Exhibition in London in 1886 illustrated the zenith of this activity, part of the rhetoric of success and the quest for capital (McKay 1998). Boom cycles such as the gold rushes and expansive corporate capitalism were followed by busts typified by the steady reduction of mines (victims of rash speculations); and dwindling or poorly managed resources led to financial instability. The economy of Queensland was further affected by crippling public and private debt (Evans 2007:109–113; Thorpe 1996:128–133). The late 1880s was a time of much foment in reaction to British capital ventures in mining (seen to be bleeding profits out of the colony and back to London) and extensive labour activism and strikes (Evans 2007:118). These conditions were a precursor to depression across Australia in the early 1890s. Queensland was particularly subject to economic pressures, not only due to debt across the colony, but also as a result of the withdrawal of capital by overseas investors, the collapse of the Queensland National Bank, prolonged drought and the associated loss of livestock, the flood of 1893 “adding to the gloom” (Evans 2007:123–124; Fitzgerald 1982:151,186).

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The start of the new century was marked by the transition to Federation in 1901, (when the six British colonies in Australia—Queensland, New South Wales, Victoria, South Australia, Tasmania and Western Australia—were permitted to move to a constitutional monarchy that allowed the States of the Commonwealth of Australia to govern in their own right). However, there was also a continuation of the trying circumstances of the 1890s, the state remaining in the depths of the ‘Federation’ drought and still economically challenged. At this time, pastoralism and gold mining, both stalwarts of economic prosperity, were largely depressed. Queensland was in political turmoil again with “six different ministries in power between Federation and the Great War” (Evans 2007:143). The arrival of the First World War had an acute effect on the population of Queensland, with many leaving employment and industry to fight (38% of all mature males, approximately 57,700 men, enlisted, around half becoming combat casualties). This loss of life and limb combined with economic downturn and excessive inflation led to political unrest, all stemming from wartime circumstances (Evans 2007:154–158). The unrest of the 1910s was followed by downturn in the 1920s and 1930s, where the ravages of prickly pear infestations, flood (again), droughts (again) and declining markets gradually gave way to the Great Depression (Evans 2007:175). In the Upper Burnett, the social and political context of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries was reflected in the landscape. The arrival of pastoralists, migrants, small holders and miners through time led to a patchwork of pastoral properties, agricultural leases and small holdings across the region. In addition to the packaging up of land, towns also developed. These new towns meant changes for local Aboriginal groups, with fringe camps being established, and eventually many people being forcibly removed from their traditional lands to reserves. Several Aboriginal groups occupy the Upper Burnett and the region lies on the boundary between three groups (Tindale 1974). Work by Williams (1981) and Clarkson et al. (in prep) has indicated that the Gooreng Gooreng traditional country extends north from around Mount Perry and west towards Eidsvold, with the Wakka Wakka occupying land to the southwest around Gayndah and Kabi Kabi country situated to the east of the area around Biggenden and Mount Shamrock (Metcalfe 1998:23,31; Slack 1997). A number of Aboriginal people were present in the mining towns of the district in the late nineteenth century. There are accounts of Aboriginal people living in fringe camps at Eidsvold being issued blankets on commemorative days (Eidsvold Reporter 15 May 1897) and there is also an account of an Aboriginal woman living with one of the miners at Monal. By 1897 there were a number of Aboriginal men working on the stations around Gayndah, including Degilbo and some Aboriginal women were working as domestics on properties (The Brisbane Courier 5 November 1897). As a result of missionary activity and the effects of 1897 Act however, people from the Gayndah and Eidsvold districts were gradually relocated to missions and reserves. After the early Aboriginal reserve at Durundar in the South Burnett was relocated to Cherbourg, many of the local Aboriginal people were forcibly removed there (Blake 2001:203–206; Slack 1997:71).

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Chinese immigrants were present in the Burnett arriving at the mining centres of Mount Perry, Cania and Eidsvold in the 1870s and 1880s. They were occupied in mining at some of the earlier settlements, but were later mainly restricted to market gardening. European migrants across the region were largely employed in working class occupations such as domestics, agricultural workers, miners and carters (Census of the Colony of Queensland 1886/1891). The predominant social structure of European and Australian settlers matched that of the rest of colonial Queensland with squatters and parliamentary members providing the upper tier of society, managers, wealthy merchants and mine owners in a slightly lower tier, small town merchants making a middle class and labourers, farmers, and miners the working class. In the Burnett, the demand for land increased greatly between the 1880s and 1900s, particularly as a result of the arrival of the railways, which made the shipment of produce much easier. From 1910 on, the area grew in importance as an agricultural centre, with the towns of Gayndah, Monto, Eidsvold and Biggenden becoming the main settlement centres. The pattern of land holdings shows pastoral leases continuing together with closer settlements based on a range of smaller lease types. However, in parallel with the rest of Queensland, economic instability affected investment in the area in terms of both infrastructure and mining. Nevertheless, as it did in other parts of the colony and across Australia, the mining of gold in the Upper Burnett was of central significance in the increase of population and settlement of the area from the mid nineteenth century onwards, contributing to a fast changing cultural landscape.

Mining Legislation in Queensland In Australia, the rush for gold was also linked to political and legislative change through the introduction of legislative measures related to access to mineral wealth, the introduction of miners’ leases, the implementation of controls on land, together with political advocacy for declaration of goldfields, provision of controls, and funding of infrastructure. Rewards were introduced for the discovery of payable gold, provision was made for sovereign land with mineral deposits, and regulatory frameworks were established to control access. Legislation relating to Queensland goldfields controlled many aspects of life, including access to land through the allocation of Mining Leases, Homestead Leases within and outside of townships, leases for market garden, water reserves, and machine areas. The Goldfields Homestead Act of 1870 made provision for miners to obtain agricultural leases of up to 40 acres. This was followed by the Goldfields Homestead Leases Act of 1886 which amended the size of Homestead Leases granted within and outside townships (Drew 1980:158). Businesses and homesteads could originally take up ¼ acre blocks, increased to ½ acre in 1886 (The Brisbane Courier 20 October 1886) and in 1898 amended to increase lot size within towns to one acre (The Brisbane Courier 7 October 1898). Drew (1980:158) suggests that this change in legislation was a reflection of “the increasing tendency of inhabitants

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of mining towns to put down more permanent roots”. The provision of land had implications for the availability of labour and a Miner’s Right was used to secure a Homestead Lease. In order to access land, many residents not directly associated with mining also held Miners’ Rights, although this was not necessarily required to access land within the goldfield. Legislation and its somewhat haphazard application had a distinct impact on not only the way in which mining was carried out, but also on the pattern of settlement, controlling the area of land that could be leased, the location and boundary dimensions, and obligations to ‘improve’ land in a certain ways (such as clearing, fencing and the establishment of buildings). There was also legislation regarding the working of a mine, including the number of people required to work a lease, the size of mining leases, exemptions from operation, general administration of goldfields and importantly, the proclamation of goldfields (which affected access to land and provided weight to requests for infrastructure and capital). Prior to the enactment of the Goldfields Act of 1874, mining of gold was administered under legislation inherited from New South Wales (Kirkman 1980:120). The 1874 Act covered the issue of miners’ rights, requirements for leases and the collection of revenue and statistics (Drew 1980:122; Kirkman 1980:120). Over the next 24 years there were several amendments to the Act, and additional statutes were enacted that dealt with Homestead Leases, health, safety and economic issues together with specific statues to deal with the “problem” of Chinese miners (Drew 1980:130). This was followed by the Mining Act of 1898 that increased the size of gold leases (Drew 1980:136). The Gold Commissioners, and, after 1874, the Mining Wardens had a wide area of duty that covered not only these requirements but also the provision of Mining Warden’s courts. In remote places such as the Palmer, they were also responsible for law and order, provision of censuses and caring for the sick and poor (Kirkman 1980:122–123).

Mining in the Burnett Just as for land and legislation, mining in the Upper Burnett corresponds with the story of resource exploration in the rest of Queensland. Although the discovery of gold at Gympie was the first instance of mining in the southern Burnett, it quickly took hold and was underway around much of the region by the late nineteenth century (Fig. 3.4). The Burnett district as a whole had rich mineralisation, with substantial deposits of copper and gold, together with smaller deposits of silver, tin, cobalt, bismuth, magnetite, molybdenite and antimony (Charlton 1902/1903:76–78). Even a source of cinnabar (mercury ore) was found in the South Burnett around Kilkivan and this was used at Mount Shamrock (The Brisbane Courier 27 November 1887). Minerals were used in a range of industrial processes and had extensive markets that linked the Upper Burnett to the state capital Brisbane and further afield to other colonies in Australia, and into international markets including Europe and Britain. The earliest discovery of gold in the district was at Cania in the north of the Upper Burnett in 1861. Alluvial mining commenced in 1870 with Yong Thom, one

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Fig. 3.4  Map of mining centres in the Upper Burnett

of two Chinese miners granted licences, among the first applying for miners’ rights. There was another alluvial rush at Cania in 1885 and the goldfield continued being worked irregularly through the remainder of the nineteenth century (Bleys and Bleys 2005). Mining through this period was carried out by small parties and individual miners, until 1901 when dredging operations commenced (Monto Historical Society 1989:8). Although the population was estimated at over 1000 at the end of the nineteenth century, in reality the population of the township ebbed and flowed, with people leaving and returning at different times, including removal to new mining fields—for example to the Palmer River in the gold rush of 1873 and to nearby Eidsvold in 1887. When gold was discovered nearby on Monal Creek in 1891, many of the residents of Cania moved there. This was a distance of only 20 km but was described by the police inspector of the time as “about the roughest country in Australia and can only be ridden and climbed with the greatest difficulty”. The Monal goldfield initially mined reef gold, with three batteries operating on the field, and the associated township at one time supported a population of 500 (Monto Historical Society 1989; O’Connor 1948:22). As mining declined at the end of the 1890s, the residents of Monal moved again—some back to Cania and others on to new copper mining settlements in the district. This movement of people from an established mining settlement to new ground was a feature observed across the Burnett, much as it was

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elsewhere in Queensland. However, it was not a rush per se, but instead was more of a translation of a community from one place to another. Businesses and buildings moved as well as people. And although people moved, they seem for the most part to have remained in the district and the same names appear on mining and business leases at each subsequent new settlement, demonstrating a community continuing beyond the life of a particular settlement. Demonstrating the rich mineralisation of the area, copper was found near Monal at Glassford, Mount Cannindah and Bompa. Copper was first discovered in the Upper Burnett at Mount Perry (also known as Tenningering) around 1870, the deposit also yielding payable quantities of gold (Charlton 1902/1903; Johnston 1982b; Royle 1980). Copper was an important commodity for Queensland in the late nineteenth century, although the volatility of market led to not only ups and downs of copper prices but also closures and abandonment of copper smelters. Nevertheless it was seen as a viable business venture and was therefore supported by government with the provision of rail to Mount Perry in 1880–1881 (Royle 1980) and was an object of desire for capitalist venturers such as then Queensland Premier Thomas McIlwraith, linking mining to the social and political landscapes of the colony. Mining at Mount Perry resulted in a flurry of exploration activity in the district in the late 1870s. Other hamlets near Mount Perry such as Reid’s Creek, Harpers Hill, Wolca and Drummers Creek also had their naissance in gold mining. Further north of Mount Perry were the mineral fields of Gaeta, Boolbunda, and Numoonta (Charlton 1902/1903:78; De Havelland 1985; Lees 1899). A number of the settlements in the area had similar histories, with the discovery of mineral wealth followed by a speedy establishment of working townships and active prospecting leading to mining activity in the surrounding area. Many of the larger towns serviced other smaller mining hamlets nearby. Eidsvold was the most substantial mining town in the Upper Burnett, producing over 100,000 ounces of gold in the life of the field (O’Connor 1948:67) and having a degree of permanence with the town still in existence today (although no longer as a viable mining centre). The discovery of gold in 1887 led to a rush and Eidsvold was proclaimed in November 1887, a busy canvas town quickly springing up, boasting a population of about 1200 (Eidsvold Goldfields Centenary Book Committee 1987:1; Lees 1899:3). Coaches ran from Eidsvold across the region and a school was established two years after the goldfield was first discovered. Although at times miners made up close to 40% of the population, only three years after the discovery of gold, three quarters of the population were women and children (Census of the Colony of Queensland 1891). In a manner similar to Mount Perry, small mining towns such as Craventown, Mount Jones, McKonkeys Creek and St Johns Creek sprang up nearby to Eidsvold and were connected to Eidsvold itself by a regular coach service (Charlton 1902/1903:78; O’Connor 1948:67). In addition, there were also mining hamlets at Hawkwood, Auburn Falls and Brovinia (De Havelland 1985). These connections were typical of the networks that operated in the Upper Burnett. Not only were there connections between the contemporary settlements, but there were also links to the wider community. Eidsvold became an

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administrative centre—the Petty Court for Cania and Monal as well as nearby settlements was centred there, and a new mining warden was installed (QSA 290322; ARDM 1888). Connections to other parts of the Burnett were not only made physically by coach but relationally, for example through investments and as a source of mining equipment to other mining towns to the north and south (Bleys and Bleys 2005; Monto Historical Society 1989). Eidsvold, as well as being connected to other parts of the Burnett, was linked through Mount Perry to Bundaberg on the coast, and beyond to the rest of Queensland (Royle 1980). The gold escort for example ran from Eidsvold to Brisbane through Mount Perry (QSA 316087). Throughout the Burnett relationships were maintained with a range of (not always consistent) administrative centres. The Mining Warden for Cania and Monal was based at Gladstone (QSA 277097, 276785), despite a Mining Warden being present at Eidsvold. This was possibly a remnant of the early discovery of gold at Cania (prior to the discovery of gold at Eidsvold) but was an unsatisfactory arrangement when the courts were at Eidsvold, the Police Inspector from Maryborough (QSA 290322), and the Education Inspector from Gayndah (QSA 15420). Nevertheless, these connections made a network across the district and beyond, a network that was further enhanced by the movement of administrative personnel. Discoveries of mineral wealth were also made in the area around Gayndah including gold at Chowey Creek around 1870, at Mount Shamrock in 1886, and at Paradise in 1889. Gold was also mined at the hamlets of Gebangle, Mount Steadman, Dykehead, Allies Creek and at Stanton Harcourt where dredging was carried out in the early twentieth century. A bismuth mine was started in Biggenden in 1888 and silver was mined at Allendale, Stanton Harcourt and Chowey Creek (Charlton 1902/1903; De Havelland 1985; Lees 1899; Loyau 1897; Rands 1886, 1890). Of these, the most successful (according to local rhetoric at the time) was Paradise, established after the discovery of gold in June 1889 twelve miles from Mount Shamrock (Lees 1899:54). By 1890, a township had been settled on the Burnett River that boasted the ubiquitous hotels, together with blacksmiths, grocers, butchers, a sawmill and soft drink factory. The Mining Warden for the district moved to Paradise and a courthouse was established. Up to 700 people settled in Paradise at its peak, many from Mount Shamrock, and for a time it was the centre of social activity in the district. However, the mining disappeared as quickly as it arrived, with the town “all but deserted by 1904” (Loyau 1897; Prangnell et al. 2005; see also Charlton 1902/1903:77). Gebangle, Chowey Creek, Mount Shamrock, Mount Steadman, Biggenden and Paradise formed an extended community over the 50 years of mining in the district. Although sometimes contemporaneous, the different townships waxed and waned as mining ventures were initiated, re-initiated and abandoned. Residents moved from settlement to settlement at different times, acquiring homestead and mining leases, and (re)building homes and businesses in the new townships. This community extended beyond the mining towns, with associations and networks with the pastoral centres of Degilbo and Gayndah, and the copper and gold centre at Mount

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Perry. Relationships were even established with the communal settlements around Gayndah such as the commune at Resolute (Metcalfe 1998:82). The Burnett district had a population of approximately 2600, 760 dwellings and 1006 rate payers in 1896 (Loyau 1897:133). Gold mining in the area resulted in an improvement in networks between towns and settlements. Coach services from Maryborough to Gayndah took in the new towns as they arose. Construction commenced on the railway line inland from Maryborough in the 1890s. Although agitated for from the earliest days of gold discoveries at Mount Shamrock, it was a number of years before the railway reached Gayndah. The connections to Maryborough were also maintained through the provision of a smelter at Aldershot, just outside Maryborough. Built in 1893 by Queensland Smelting Company for the smelting and refining of gold, silver, lead and copper (Maryborough Wide Bay and Burnett Historical Society 1976:21), the works at Aldershot were established with the intention of setting Maryborough at the centre of the various mining ventures in the area (QGMJ 1900). Connections and networks also went further afield. In nineteenth-century Queensland, many of the frameworks that people operated within were partially constituted by relations with Britain. A reasonable proportion of the residents of the colony had been born in Britain and others were the first generation of their family born in Queensland. For the upper tiers of colonial Queensland society, connections included trips ‘home’ to Britain to establish financial backing, to employ a technical expert or to find a ‘suitable’ wife. This was equally as true in the Burnett where connections were made through mine managers, overseas shareholders, and administrators who originated from Britain. These connections maintained the Upper Burnett, if not at the centre of the colony, at least as a colonial outpost. The connections people had with Britain, and the colonial imperatives they were subject to, played an important part in framing the contextual landscape of the town and mine and impacted on how the residents constructed their lives. The whole gamut of mining landscapes was present in the florescence of mining activity in the Upper Burnett region from the 1870s to the 1890s—a company town in Mount Perry, rushes to hard rock mines at Eidsvold and alluvial rushes at Cania, dredging at Stanton Harcourt and small scale diggings radiating out from major mining centres. Mount Shamrock was part of this larger network of mining fields and in the early days after its discovery was regarded as a central place for mining in that area. The subsequent discoveries of gold at Eidsvold and Paradise eclipsed the activities at Mount Shamrock however the township continued to play a role in the public mind as a prominent gold field, restrained by financial problems and poor management. Just as for other parts of Queensland, the Burnett was affected by the banking collapse of the early 1890s, the droughts of 1883–1884 and the late 1890s, as well as the flooding in Maryborough in 1885 and the major flood of 1893 (Maryborough Wide Bay and Burnett Historical Society 1976:17–24). These significant events in the local region directly affected Mount Shamrock. By the early 1910s, gold mining had all but disappeared in the area, only reappearing in times of financial hardship as tribute miners and small-scale venturers tried to find economic relief. Through all these events, the quest for land was paramount, continuing

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through to the present day, and demonstrating an enduring connection with the landscape.

Summary While not occurring in the first flush of frontier expansion, life at Mount Shamrock can be considered in the context of the previous 25 years of European colonisation in Queensland, together with contemporary events. The nineteenth century was a time of enormous change in Queensland. The period of the mid 1800s saw the expansion of the colonial frontier in Queensland on the back of pastoralism. From the 1860s, agriculture and mining became more significant as catalysts in the development of European settlement. These pursuits were integrally bound up with the acquisition of land and physical changes to the landscape were wrought in a relatively short period of time. Changes in legislation particularly affected people’s ability to gain land, gradually making land more readily available to a broad range of settlers including smallholding farmers. Underlying pastoral, mining and agricultural ventures was the social, economic and political circumstances of Queensland in the second half of the nineteenth century. These conditions were reflective of a broader capitalist and colonial circumstance seen across the world. The phenomenon of gold-rushes across the globe created economic change, witnessed the development and employment of technology and infrastructure, and resulted in the wholesale movement of people that dislocated indigenous populations and saw unequal treatment of migrants from outside the colonial sphere. The development of gold mining in particular, while part of a global phenomenon, at a local level had a considerable influence on the expansion of the colonial frontier and contributed greatly to the traditional narrative of the growth of Queensland.

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Evans, R., and R. Ørsted-Jensen. 2014. ‘I cannot say the numbers that were killed’: Assessing violent mortality on the Queensland frontier. Available at SSRN 2467836. Evans, R., K. Saunders, and K. Cronin. 1993. Race relations in colonial Queensland: A history of exclusion, exploitation and extermination. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Fahey, C. 2010. Peopling the Victorian goldfields: From boom to bust, 1851–1901. Australian Economic History Review 50 (2): 148–161. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-­8446.2010.00298.x. Fitzgerald, R. 1982. From the dreaming to 1915: A history of Queensland. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Freeman, D. 1992. Prickly pear menace in eastern Australia, 1880–1940. Geographical Review 82 (4): 413–429. Grabs, C. 2000. Gold, black gold and intrigue: The story of Mount Morgan. Sydney: Angus and Robertson. Hannigan, B. n.d. A summary of land titling in Queensland. Retrieved 01 Oct 2009 from http:// www.xyz.au.com/public/general_info/pdf_files/ACF9F.PDF. Hardesty, D. 1994. Class, gender strategies and material culture in the mining west. In Those of little note: Gender, race and class in historical archaeology, ed. E.M. Scott, 129–145. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press. ———. 2003. Mining rushes and landscape learning in the modern world. In Colonisation of unfamiliar landscapes: The archaeology of adaption, ed. M. Rockman and J. Steele, 81–95. London: Routledge. ———. 2010. Mining archaeology in the American west: A view from the silver state. Lincoln, Nebraska: University of Nebraska Press and the Society for Historical Archaeology. Harrison, R. 2002. Shared histories and the archaeology of the pastoral industry in Australia. In After captain cook: The archaeology of the recent indigenous past in Australia, ed. R. Harrison and C.  Williamson, 37–58. Sydney: Archaeological Computing Laboratory, University of Sydney. ———. 2004. Shared landscapes: Archaeologies of attachment and the pastoral industry in New South Wales. Sydney: UNSWPress. Hill, D. 2010. Gold: The fever that forever changed Australia. North Sydney: William Heinmann. Holthouse, H. 1980. Gympie gold: A dramatic story of Queensland gold. Sydney: Angus and Robertson. Idriess, I. 1958. Back o’ Cairns. Sydney: Angus and Robertson. Johnston, W.R. 1982a. The call of the land: A history of Queensland to the present day. Brisbane: Jacaranda Press. ———. 1982b. A new province?: The closer settlement of Monto. Brisbane: Boolarong Publications for Monto Shire Council. Jones, G. 2015. Multinationals and global capitalism: From the nineteenth to the twenty first century. Oxford: OUP Press. Joyce, R.B. n.d. Griffith, Sir Samuel Walker (1845–1920). Retrieved from http://adbonline.anu. edu.au/biogs/A090113b.htm Kerr, R. 1992. Queensland historical mining sites study, Report for the Department of Environment and Heritage. Kirke Rose, T. 1906. The metallurgy of gold. London: Griffin. Kirkman, N. 1980. The Palmer River goldfield. In Readings in North Queensland mining history, ed. K.H. Kennedy, 113–144. Townsville: James Cook University. Knapp, A.B. 1998. Social approaches to the archaeology and anthropology of mining. In Social approaches to an industrial past: The archaeology and anthropology of mining, ed. A.B. Knapp, V.C. Pigott, and E.W. Herbert, 1–23. London: Routledge. Lawrence, S., and P. Davies. 2011. An archaeology of Australia since 1788. New York: Springer. ———. 2012. Learning about landscape: Archaeology of water management in colonial Victoria. Australian Archaeology 74 (1): 47–54. Lees, W. 1899. The goldfields of Queensland. Brisbane: Outridge Printing Co.

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Lennon, J. 2000. Victorian goldfields: Tentative world heritage listing. Historic Environment 14 (5): 70–74. Loyau, G.E. 1897. The history of Maryborough and Wide Bay and Burnett districts from the year 1850 to 1895. Brisbane: Pole, Outridge. Maryborough Wide Bay and Burnett Historical Society. 1976. A history of Maryborough, 1842–1976. Maryborough: The Society. Mason, L., N.  Mikhailovich, G.  Mudd, S.  Sharpe, and D.  Giurco 2013. Advantage Australia: Resource governance and innovation for the Asian century, prepared for CSIRO minerals down under flagship by the Institute for Sustainable Futures (UTS, Sydney, Australia) and Monash University, Melbourne. McGowan, B. 2006. Fool’s gold: Myths and legends of gold seeking in Australia. Sydney: Lothian Books. McKay, J. 1998. “A good show”: Colonial Queensland at international exhibitions. Queensland Memoirs 1 (2): 175–343. McNiven, I., and L.  Russell. 2002. Ritual response: Place marking and the colonial frontier in Australia. In Inscribed landscapes: Marking and making place, ed. B. David and M. Wilson, 27–41. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Menghetti, D. 1980. The gold mines of charters towers. In Readings in North Queensland mining history, ed. K.H. Kennedy, 49–118. Townsville: James Cook University of North Queensland. Metcalfe, B. 1998. Gayndah communes. Rockhampton: Central Queensland University Press. Monto Historical Society. 1989. Collections and recollections: A history of the gold mining townships of Cania and Monal. Monto: Monto State High School and Monto Historical Society. Morse, K. 2009. The nature of gold: An environmental history of the Klondike gold rush. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Mudd, G.M. 2007a. Global trends in gold mining: Towards quantifying environmental and resource sustainability? Resources Policy 32: 42–56. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.resourpol.2007.05.002. ———. 2007b. Gold mining in Australia: Linking historical trends and environmental and resource sustainability. Environmental Science and Policy 10: 629–644. Nash, G.D. 1998. Veritable revolution: The global economic significance of the California Gold Rush. California History 77 (4): 276–292. Ngai, M.M. 2015. Chinese gold miners and the “Chinese question” in nineteenth-century California and Victoria. The Journal of American History 101 (4): 1082–1105. O’Connor, G.F. 1948. Central and Upper Burnett River District of Queensland: Centenary Souvenir 1848–1948. Brisbane: Brooks and Co. Ørsted-Jensen, R. 2011. Frontier history revisited – Colonial Queensland and the ‘history war’. Brisbane: Lux Mundi Publishing. Osterhammel, J. 2014. The transformation of the world: A global history of the nineteenth century (Translated by Patrick Camiller). Princeton: Princeton University Press. Petchey, P. 2014. The archaeological interpretation of the New Zealand stamp mill. Australasian Historical Archaeology 32: 3–13. Prangnell, J., L. Cheshire, and K. Quirk. 2005. Paradise: Life on a Queensland goldfield. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Archaeological Services Unit. Rands, W.H. 1886. Report on the gold and silver deposits in the neighbourhood of mount shamrock. Geological Survey of Queensland Publication 25. ———. 1890. Mount Biggenden bismuth mine, Gebangle, and the mount shamrock mine. Geological Survey of Queensland Publication 60. Reeves, K., L.  Frost, and C.  Fahey. 2010. Integrating the historiography of the nineteenth-­ century gold rushes. Australian Economic History Review 50 (2): 111–128. https://doi. org/10.1111/j.1467-­8446.2010.00296.x. Reynolds, H. 1987. Frontier: Aborigines, settlers and land. Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Richards, J. 2009 Native Police. Queensland Historical Atlas, http://www.qhatlas.com.au/content/ native-­police, 2009. Retrieved 2 Nov 2017.

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Richardson, P. 1977. The recruiting of Chinese indentured labour for the South African gold-­ mines, 1903–1908. Journal of African History 18 (1): 85–108. Roderick, D. 1980. Ravenswood: Surveying the physical evidence. In Readings in North Queensland mining history, ed. K.H. Kennedy, 39–86. Townsville: James Cook University. Royle, M. 1980. Perry’s past: A centenary history of Perry Shire. Mount Perry: Perry Shire Council. Sheng, F. 2011. Environmental experiences of Chinese people in the mid-nineteenth century Australian gold rushes. Global Environment 4 (7–8): 98–117. Slack, J. 1997. Then and now: An aboriginal history of Gayndah. Gayndah: Gayndah Orange Festival Committee. Stewart, G., and F. Stewart. 1981. Biggenden’s beginnings: The pastoral background. Kingaroy: Biggenden Historical Society. Thorpe, B. 1996. Colonial Queensland: Perspectives on a frontier society. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Tindale, N.B. 1974. Aboriginal Tribes of Australia: Their terrain, environmental controls, distribution, limits and proper names. Canberra: Australian National University Press. Tracey, M.M. 1996. No water–no gold: Hydrological technology in nineteenth century gold mining–an archaeological examination. The Australian Historical Mining Association: Conference Proceedings Tresize, D.L. 1989. The history of gold mining, Brisbane Forest Park, Southeast Queensland, Unpublished Report held by EPA. Walker, J. 1988. Jondaryan station: The relationship between pastoral capital and pastoral labour, 1840–1890. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Wegner, J. 1980. Gold mining on the Etheridge. In Readings in North Queensland mining history, ed. K.H. Kennedy, 87–111. Townsville: James Cook University. Whitmore, R.L. 1981. Coal in Queensland: The first fifty years. A history of early coal mining in Queensland. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press. ———. 1985. Coal in Queensland : The late nineteenth century 1875 to 1900. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Williams, M. 1981. Traditionally, my country and its people, Unpublished MPhil (Qual.) thesis, Griffith University Brisbane. Wilson, M., and B.  David. 2002. Introduction. In Inscribed landscapes: Marking and making place, ed. B. David and M. Wilson. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press. Wurst, L. 2006. A class all its own: Explorations of class formation and conflict. In Historical archaeology, ed. M. Hall and S.W. Silliman. Malden: Blackwell Publishing.

Chapter 4

Surveying the Past

How does the theoretical paradigm of a landscape approach translate into strategies for researching and interpreting the landscape of Mount Shamrock? Archaeology can provide insights into the landscapes of mining towns not available through other avenues, as many of the lives and everyday activities of residents of Mount Shamrock are poorly, if at all, documented. Changes in social landscapes—across areas or through time—are reflected, and therefore may be identifiable, in the physical landscape (Gosden and Head 1994:113–114). Human geography, anthropological and archaeological methodologies all offer useful approaches for recording and analysis to address the recovery of data from cultural landscapes (Ashmore 2004; Fleming 2006; Gosden and Head 1994; Head 2000; Ingold 1993; Thomas 2001; Tilley 1994; Wilkinson 2006). Due to the complex nature of landscape, these approaches emphasise the analysis of material culture, spatial relationships, patterns of use, and identification of places of significance. Each of these has been integrated into the methodology used in interpreting the social and industrial landscapes of Mount Shamrock.

Approaches to an Archaeology of Landscapes In order to reveal the constitution of the industrial and domestic landscapes of Mount Shamrock, together with meanings created and transmitted within the landscape, the physical components of, and spatial relationships within, the landscape were recorded. Site formation processes had to be taken into account as they had a significant effect on the distribution and fragmentation of artefacts. Access to social constructions was possible through attention to material remains while the examination of industrial elements of the township revealed these components as an integral part of the landscape, providing the context of the settlement. More challenging, meaning is fundamental in examinations of landscape and therefore the approaches used required attention to data that would reveal the meanings attributed by © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 G. Mate, Mining the Landscape, Contributions To Global Historical Archaeology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-12906-3_4

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residents to space and place. Historical accounts in newspapers, particularly the more narrative articles, together with diaries, were especially informative in supporting these interpretations. Archaeological examinations of a landscape requires the recording of traces of activity, as indicated by artefacts and features distributed across the landscape. For Mount Shamrock this included the location and extent of residential, industrial and agricultural remnants (such as market gardens and slaughter yards), together with the location and traces of more dispersed elements such as roads, fences and outlying features. In other words, the first step to understanding a landscape was to identify how and when it was physically altered—changes to which the land has been subjected need to be understood (Aston 1985:11; Gosden and Head 1994:114–115; Wilkinson 2006:335–336). Sequences of building activity can identify settlement chronologies (Barrett 1999:24) and the analysis of features and artefacts can help to identify areas of activity. There are a number of complicating factors in assessing these traces however. For example, activities carried out in the same landscape may alter through time. In the context of a town existing for only 50 years, changes in occupation, layout and use all occurred in a relatively short period of time, and these elements needed to be disentangling. Being able to identify spatial patterning was also important, as the structuring of space may have held traces of the construction of social identity and the embedding of meaning, transmitted through the cultural construction of that space. Systematic survey shifted the focus away from specific ‘sites’ or groupings of features, such as traces of houses, and instead allowed the effective examination of the landscape as an entirety, thereby dissolving any on-site/off-site dichotomy.

Methodology A synthetic approach to data recovery and interpretation was developed for the examination of the landscape of Mount Shamrock that used a range of quantitative and qualitative approaches. Specifically, approaches to the integrated landscape of Mount Shamrock involved systematic survey and analysis of material culture and collation of documentary data. This encompassed examination of the archaeological evidence (in the form of topographical changes, features and artefacts), assessment of the outcomes of taphonomic processes (important not only to understand changes which partially obscure earlier features, but also as evidence of different activities, such as changes in process methods, or changes in the use of activity areas through time, (Wilkinson 2006)), and the recording of the spatial distribution and composition of archaeological remnants. These were complemented with experiential reading of place. Documentary evidence, including maps, photos, first-hand accounts, newspaper articles and genealogical evidence, in conjunction with the archaeological evidence, added another layer to understanding use of space,

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relationships between residents, and visual aspects of the township and mine. Interpretations of data from the town were supported by the examination of temporal, cultural, economic and political contexts from primary and secondary sources. The analysis of data addressed the composition of landscape through examinations of the spatial patterning of artefacts and features, together with identification and functional analysis of material culture (using categories of domestic/household, residential industrial, ancillary and broader landscape), and analysis of documentary data for evidence of social structure, cultural mores, and assigned meanings in the landscape. These approaches are useful for identifying specific spatial patterning of landscape use, the nature of activities undertaken in different areas, and help to highlight places of specific meaning to allow interpretation of the cultural landscape. Applied to the industrial remnants, these same processes also provide evidence of the function, location and chain of operation of processing equipment, including the types of equipment selected. Comparisons to the equipment available and attention to the biographies of those involved in making decisions allows interpretation of social influences on the technology used. These components then informed ideas about the way nineteenth century residents of Mount Shamrock regarded and created meaning in their landscape. As this study was primarily concerned with people’s understanding and interaction through, and with, the landscape of Mount Shamrock, the focus of data collection remained at the broad level, as surveying can provide more extensive data on the use of landscape than other methods (Banning 2002:10). The nature of the remnants (surface deposition of fencing, above-ground stumps and above-ground industrial foundations for example) meant that the most productive approach to examining the landscape was to establish features representing spatial distribution across the area rather than through the examination of the minutiae of daily life identifiable through excavation. Feature recording was important as it allowed not only the analysis and identification of the location of particular components (such as industrial equipment or parcels of land)—both in the landscape and in relation to each other—but also the internal organisation of these spaces (for example the size and location of a dwelling within a land holding). The township, mining areas and surrounding landscape of Mount Shamrock was the focus of detailed survey in 2006 and 2007. Archaeological pedestrian surveys and recordings were carried out across approximately three hectares of the northern part of the township. The domestic and industrial areas were recorded using slightly different approaches due to the nature of the remnants: many prominent features were extant in the industrial area while widespread artefact scatters were the main component of the township archaeological record. Therefore, in the township an intensive survey of domestic remnants was made, recording all artefacts and features and their locations. The archaeological remnants consisted primarily of a combination of fragmented domestic artefacts, dominated by glass, ceramic and metal, and structural features which were composed for the most part of brick, concrete and timber, visible on the surface. The approach used aided the identification of both features and individual artefacts in what was a highly disturbed environment.

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Materials were classified as glass, ceramic, masonry, metal, wood, concrete, stone, synthetics, live vegetation, faunal remains (bone and shell), charcoal, textile and leather. Secondary classification was determined by shared attributes within these categories, such as colour, form and decoration. Additional information such as dimensions, the presence of lettering, diagnostic features, the number of fragments, and descriptions of the artefacts was also recorded. This intensive survey was augmented by a broad scale survey of the surrounding landscape (approximately 12 hectares) to record features in other parts of township. Pedestrian surveys across the broader landscape covered the area surrounding the town lots and the adjacent hillsides. Features targeted included pathways and fence-­ lines, roadways, the school reserve and outlying artefact scatters that may have represented dump areas. In the mining and processing area, efforts were concentrated on detailed recording and accurate mapping of features, complemented by broad scale pedestrian survey recording features and topographical changes in the landscape surrounding the industrial area. Features in the industrial area included mine shafts, building remnants (e.g. posts, bricks and/or earthworks), trackways, mullock and tailings heaps, and remnant processing equipment foundations. Identifiable artefacts were recorded, and artefactual material associated with features was noted as part of the recording process. As the processing remnants were complex and wide-spread, they were divided into functional areas to allow for practical recording. Artefact investigations at Mount Shamrock used established approaches to cataloguing and analysis (Brooks 2005a, b; Crook 2011; Crook et al. 2002). The artefacts were catalogued and analysed in situ, with each artefact assigned material categories, and specific form and function recorded where they were identifiable. These functional categories were broadly grouped into domestic/household, residential/architectural, industrial, ancillary and broader landscape. Once artefact analysis was completed, the data was mapped to identify artefact distribution, allowing the overlaying of artefact distributions and feature distributions on the town plan. The general distribution of artefacts across the township survey area was established with the distributions of timber, brick, and ceramic analysed separately. Artefacts were also plotted according to function, so that remnant fencing for example could be mapped separately to domestic building stumps. Features were also mapped in an overlay across the town plan, allowing a composite picture of dwelling and land divisions to be developed. In the industrial area, distributions of features were plotted and a composite picture of each discrete area of operation was prepared. This established the operational configuration and identified specific activities and movements between mines, processing areas and across the landscape as a whole. Finally, the distribution of all features across the landscape was mapped. Together these analyses provide data for interpreting identity, understanding places of activity, interaction and exclusion represented through spatial relationships, assignations of meaning, and explicating the links between social influences and technology.

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Identity The social landscape at Mount Shamrock (including access to goods and day-to-day activities), aspirations and construction of identity, particularly with respect to degree of affluence and relative status, was in part established using archaeological evidence from the functional analysis of artefacts. As Orser (2010:125) notes however, while artefacts and documentary evidence can provide interpretations of social identity, these cannot be seen as immutable but instead are “multi-dimensional, interconnected”; as will be presented later, residents of Mount Shamrock continually reimagined or re-presented identities changed by context and circumstance. Nevertheless, in the everyday material culture they used (including personal and recreational items, which illuminate the pastimes of residents), some degree of projection of identity and their colonial context can be interpreted. Examination of material culture also provided information about broader landscape networks and context—where manufacturers or sources of supply were identifiable, colonialism and global networks of supply were discernible from the artefacts. This included bricks, objects used for hygiene and health, food and drink containers and items for consumption of food and drink (ceramic and glass). Interpretations of both social landscapes and spatial patterning was aided by examination of the distribution and size of houses and Homestead Leases, functional analysis identifying residential and ancillary artefacts and the specific identification of stumps, fence posts and fence wire. Artefacts with functional categories of “broader landscape” and “industrial” also provided information regarding the pervasiveness of industry through the township, together with transport and external activities. The identification of artefacts located on the town flat which were industrial in nature was of particular importance to the archaeological record of Mount Shamrock. This is complicated by the multi-­ functional nature of some objects. Multiple function—or poly-functionality (Brooks 2005a:8)—is an important consideration when assessing the integration of domestic and industrial landscapes. A rake, for example, could be domestic, agricultural or industrial, and assigning function can be fraught with danger. Although Casey (2004:32) suggests that artefacts were typically used for the specific purpose they were made or bought for, Brooks (2005a:10) contends that this was an oversimplification and instead argued for categories of “primary intended function” and “primary intended use” to distinguish between manufacturers’ and consumers’ intentions for an object, and to address poly-functionality. Although this division addresses an intentional alternative use of an object, it does not necessarily deal with the issue of subsequent reuse in manners not initially intended (see Russell 2004:64 for example). This is a particular manifestation found in the integration of domestic and industrial material culture, where an object or material primarily intended for industrial purposes is subsequently used or re-used for a secondary domestic purpose (for example boiler plates used for fireplace bases). That some artefacts could be and were intended to be used for a number of purposes (such as timber for fence posts or wall frames, chains for hanging, lifting and even securing

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gates) is another complication of this issue. Nevertheless, as Brooks (2005a:10) suggests, the use of primary function is valid, provided difficulties are acknowledged and addressed. For the purposes of this study, any overtly industrial objects (judged by virtue of size, manufacturing techniques or construction) found in the domestic area were assumed to indicate a secondary use. Function was assigned to other multi-functional objects based on context and were presumed to have been primarily intended for that use. In some instances, the assigning of function required an iterative analysis of form, function and distribution. For example, in the identification of fencing the relative fragmentation of timber could conceal the function until distribution was mapped. Nevertheless, as will be explored shortly, the examination of artefacts using functional categories of domestic/household, residential/ architectural, industrial, ancillary and broader landscape directly inform interpretations of how residents of Mount Shamrock understood and constructed their identity around their view of themselves as residents of a mining town, taking an active role in the colonial enterprise of gold production.

Spatial Relationships The geographical distribution of settlements, buildings and structures on mining landscapes reflects in part physical determinants such as topography, water availability, transportation routes, and mine location. However, the type and distribution of settlements, buildings and structures in a landscape also reflect cultural concepts of settlement and community (conveyed in settlement layouts) (Hardesty 2003; see also Bell 1998; Knapp 1998; Murphy 2008). Built structures create a focus for social activity and a means of constructing social identity (Burke 1999:31–32; Tilley 1993:80); social identity can be articulated through the size and style of a house, including size, layout and decoration, and the plants, structures and perspectives of gardens (Burke 1999:143–153; Kealhofer 1999:58–59; Leone 1984), as well as by location within a town, in the form of a town layout, or ‘townscape’ (Burke 1999:180; Delle 1998:10; Hardesty 1998:88). The distribution of buildings and structures, together with the structuring of space, can be considered an identifiable component of people’s efforts to construct social order. Space as it pertains here, and in an historical context, applies not just to open space, but also to areas enclosed through roads and routes, the enclosure of pastures, the parcelling of land in selection and so on. These spaces, together with homesteads and gardens, areas of operation or activities (the task-scapes of Ingold (2000:520)), and places where travel and narrative took place (Armstrong 2001:47) all join together to make up the cultural landscape. Further, the identification of spatial arrangements in townscapes, examining areas of occupation and hierarchical structuring of spaces, also allows the assessment of differentiation between groups of people (see Lightfoot et  al. 1998). In particular civic layout can be examined as a material expression of cultural traditions, the creation of public spaces and places playing a role in the (re) creation of cultural identity (Armstrong 2001:47; Gosden 2004:2). Historical

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documents also provide information not only about where people were located in the landscape, the construction of space (Byrne and Nugent 2004:12) and how it was used but also illuminate changing use and meaning through time. Documentary evidence therefore further supports interpretations of the spatial construction of the landscape. An understanding of the spatial arrangements of components of mining towns is important for any investigation of the social landscape of these towns, where there are a number of areas of difference, contestation and separation. Aboriginal people, migrants, pastoralists and miners all used, had access to, and understood the landscape in different ways. These differing uses need to be considered in analysis of the landscape. Variation are identifiable through examinations of the organisation of space and contrasts in material culture, and through considerations of stated or documented uses of space. One example of this is the location of marginalised people on the outskirts of town, excluded by virtue of their race or status from access to, and participation in, town life. The construction, control and location of leases for mining, homesteads and machine areas is another form of structuring of space and can be considered another example of restricted access as those who can use and have right of entry to these spaces are limited by convention, practice and legislative restrictions. These factors are all effectively markers of power and meaning in the landscape, structured by social ideologies and accessed through status or occupation.

Meaning Establishing appropriate methodologies and data to understand the attribution of meaning in a landscape is challenging. Head (2000:49–52), recognising the importance of the social as well as the physical dimensions of landscape, suggested that methodologies drawn on need to be “diverse, rigorous and demanding of a…range of skills”, including both quantitative and qualitative approaches. She emphasised an awareness of subjectivity, attention to topographical alterations and the importance of contextualisation in connecting people to place, together with rigorous process in terms of documentation, construction of interpretive argument and self-assessment of values by the researcher. Tilley (1994:11) advocated “… a continuous dialectic between ideas and empirical data”, while Uzzell (2004:6) more specifically stated “we derive meaning from seeing artefacts in their temporal, spatial and functional context”. Uzzell (2004:7–8) also pointed out the importance of context in interpretation and questions whether it is possible to truly know the past, considering how changing temporal frameworks change perceptions. In Mount Shamrock, the effective context of the place changed through time, from the establishment of a gold mine, through economic downturns, to its final days as an agricultural settlement. Concomitant changes in the way the residents of the town viewed themselves through time have relevance to how the landscape at Mount Shamrock can be interpreted. These changes are identifiable not only in documentary evidence, but also in material culture and layered features, as the spatial

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organisation of the township was established in the early days of the settlement. Further, the extent of the landscape of Mount Shamrock changed, with relationships altering—expanding and contracting—through time within the town, in the region, across Queensland and globally. An “interpretive archaeology”, as advocated by Thomas (2006:30), acknowledges that interpretation continues at all times during fieldwork and is not the sole province of the writer of the report. Bradley (2003) particularly examined the effectiveness of observation carried out over multiple visits and longer time frames in survey methods. He highlighted the importance of growing familiarity, an “awareness (that) would have taken time” (Bradley 2003:153; see also Johnson 2007), in allowing identification of structuring within the landscape. This methodology fits well with phenomenological approaches advocated by Tilley (1993) who saw experiencing a landscape as an integral part of understanding it (see also Thomas 1993, 2008). Experiential reading of historical landscapes is still seen as a less than robust approach by some (see Fleming 2006 for example). Nevertheless, it should be recognised that, when in the field, there is constant movement across the landscape and there is an opportunity to reflect on the experience of past occupants—how uncomfortable and how hot or dry it was, how close a workplace was, what it ‘felt like’ to move across the landscape. Interpretation occurs as the material record becomes apparent—fine grained detail begins to fit a larger picture—artefacts of wood resolve themselves into stumps and fence-posts, while stumps coalesce to form foundations of dwellings and fence-posts align to form property boundaries. Further, as features resolve themselves into places and as the landscape becomes more familiar, more nuanced reading takes place. One of the criticisms of experiential approaches to archaeology is the question of how we can know that our own perceptions and understandings of a landscape bear any resemblance to understandings of people in the past. Knapp and Ashmore (1999:10–11) particularly caution that contemporary beliefs can often lead to a metaphorical (re)construction of landscapes by archaeologists that freezes meaning. Wilson and David (2002:2) suggested that rather than “trying to retrieve meaning … through formal and informed methods … they seek to identify social codes and hegemonic practices that resulted in the particular sense of place” (emphasis in original). Careful critiquing and reflection of our own view of the world is necessary for experiential reading of historical landscapes. An advantage of historical archaeology is that access to primary documentary evidence, written documents, photographs and oral histories can support analysis of places and spatial structuring in the landscape that might reflect meaning. Historical maps can also provide clear statements about how specific parts of a landscape were regarded or used. Further, these forms of evidence provide historical context. Therefore, the historical chronology and context establishing political, economic and social norms of Queensland and the place of Mount Shamrock within that frame, aid interpretation. Documentary evidence was a key data source for Mount Shamrock, with both primary and secondary historical sources used. Critical evaluation of the validity of sources and the intent of the writer was essential in order to identify inherent biases

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and differences or errors in the information. In particular, men prepared all administrative information and newspaper accounts appear to have also been written exclusively by men. Some sources of documentary evidence also present problems with accuracy of data. For example, the lists of equipment found in Mining Warden Reports while informative were inconsistent or even contradictory, with little or no detail. Specific localities using particular equipment were not often provided as results were collated across mining districts. Nevertheless, some very informative documentary sources were available, including maps provided to Government agencies and most particularly the personal diary of Elsie Bilbrough, the first government appointed teacher at Mount Shamrock, who resided there between 1890 and 1891. These sources, together with oral histories of descendants of early settlers provided contemporary accounts of the living environments and social activities experienced at Mount Shamrock (presented in the next chapter). Similarly information on industrial equipment provided useful data for comparative analysis of processing methods and understanding the selection of technology. Regardless of the availability of contemporary views of the landscape, approaches to interpretation of meaning in landscapes incorporate a number of lines of evidence. Experiential reading must be recognised as one element of the fieldwork process—a reading that, when linked with analysis of material culture, spatial structuring, contextual information and documentary evidence expressing feelings about place and the landscape, can provide interpretations of meaning.

 inking Processes and Social Landscapes L for an Industrial Township While recognised as part of a cultural landscape, with attendant considerations of activity and meaning, industrial landscapes can also be interrogated specifically to understand the processes of industry. Spatial arrangement of buildings, features (such as tailings, races, shafts and mullock heaps) and machinery, and the relationships between them, assist in determining function, sequence and industrial process (Lawrence 2000:74; Lennon 2000:72; McGowan 2001; Palmer 2004:2). Further, environmental and physical changes as a result of processes also provide information about technologies used. In assessing technology, one mechanism that can be used to establish how and where products were made is the concept of châines operatoire (Greene 2006:160; Killick 2004:573). The typical chain of operation for nineteenth and early twentieth century gold mining is known from historical documentation and current mineral extraction processes. Identification of the equipment used at a location and its configuration—established archaeologically and from available documentation detailing machinery in use at Mount Shamrock—allowed a reconstruction of the methods of mining and mineral processing used.

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There is, however, more to understand about an industry than the specifics of which processes is used. Processes are operated by people and the adoption (and adaption) of technology by those people is itself influenced by social factors. Killick (2004:571) suggested: There is usually more than one technology that satisfies the minimum requirements for any given task; and the choice of a particular technology from a pool of satisfactory alternatives may be strongly influenced by the beliefs, social structure and prior choices of the society or group under study.

Comparing the processes used to the range of technologies available contemporarily further illuminates choices of technology. Social influences can be understood by examining the reason particular technologies are chosen over others available. Considerations of evidence of ethnicity, level of education, economic constraints, social networks, the suitability of technology, the availability of funding and/or the experience and origins of miners all contribute to an analysis. Beyond the application of a particular technology or group of technologies, analysis can also examine aspects of social landscape embodied or transplanted onto the operation of an industry. The organisation of labour, manifestations of status in an industrial setting, and social networks—both familial and business—can all have influence on the way an industry operates. Documentary sources allow an examination of how labour is organised and what social networks are in operation. The corollary of this is the need to recognize that the technology used impacts experiences of the residents of the landscape. This is both a social influence, providing (or withholding) access to employment or economic stability (identifiable through both documentary and archaeological evidence) and also a physical environment in that the landscape created by mining is a physical setting for any residents, understood spatially and experientially. Consequently, analysis of industrial activity at Mount Shamrock is fundamentally tied to an understanding of the cultural landscape as a whole. The relationship between components and features was recorded at Mount Shamrock to allow interpretation of equipment layout, and to shed light on process flow. Consideration was also given to the topographical influences of landscape on industrial processing and the different phases of operation through time. These are important facets in understanding industrial activities, the relative order of treatment, and how successful and appropriate the processes were. Topography and alterations to landform also provide additional information about the movement of raw materials, ore and tailings.

The Archaeological Evidence The township of Mount Shamrock was positioned on a river flat above the confluence of Chowey Creek and Didcot Creek. The area is surrounded on the north, northeast and east by three small peaks—respectively Mount Shamrock, where the

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mine was located, Mount Ophir (also briefly mined) and Mount Melville. The main street of the town (Mount Shamrock Road) contained both business and residential lots and ran parallel to Didcot Creek. The mineshafts and associated processing areas began adjacent to the north edge of the town with the main workings approximately 500 m to the north on the hill above the township. The school was located on a small spur intruding at the southern end of the town flat. The southern edge of the township was again bounded by Didcot Creek, with the main road into the township crossing the creek at the southeast corner of the town reserve. In the west, the land climbs and is bounded by Paradise Rd. along the ridgeline (Fig. 4.1). Although land lots still exist in the Department of Environment and Resource Management register, much of the remnant material in the township has been cleared over the last 30 years and the area given over to agriculture. The area identified as the main settlement now lies across crop fields between Mount Shamrock Road and the school reserve hillside and stretches north into an adjacent grazing paddock to the north of Paradise Road. Artefact scatters, features and remnant landscape from the occupation of the mine and township are distributed across the town flat and the adjacent hills and provide evidence of fifty years of domestic and industrial activity across the landscape.

Township Area The pedestrian survey carried out across the township identified over 12,000 surface artefacts distributed over an area of around 32,000m2. The artefacts, present primarily on the town flat, consisted of structural (concrete, bricks, stumps, metal sheeting, sawn timber and stone alignments) and domestic (ceramic, glass and metal) components. The most common material types present are ceramic, glass, masonry, metal and wood, with an additional nine categories including imported vegetation (Table 4.1). Ceramics and glass artefacts made up the majority of domestic remnants, together composing over 50% of the artefacts found. Metal artefacts made up a further 28% of the assemblage. Much of the glass, metal and ceramic material was highly degraded and very fragmented and therefore had few diagnostic characteristics. There was a range of identifiable domestic artefacts including buttons, beads, a thimble, a sewing machine component, clock workings, pieces of harmonica, tools, furnishing, fragments of clay smoking pipes and pieces of writing slates and slate pencils. The artefacts were distributed across the landscape but were most heavily concentrated in the area of the Homestead Leases. Brick, stone and timber artefacts appeared to correlate more specifically to dwellings. The distribution of glass and ceramic was more widespread and metal artefacts were the most broadly distributed. Twenty-six features were identified across the township area as a whole including 15 specific features within the immediate township (Appendix A). Structural remains consisted predominantly of stump alignments, depressions and brick clusters. Broad scale features in the township include roadways, fence lines and

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Fig. 4.1  Plan of Mount Shamrock showing Miners Homestead Leases, Gold Mining leases, Reserves and roads and tracks in 1923. Based on Lot on Plan (Department of Mines CK1033)

drainage ditches, with extant fences and roads following the original lines of boundaries and paths, including the path from the township to the mine. Further, when overlayed on the 1923 cadastral map together with features that indicate boundary fences and ditches, the distribution of structural features indicates a relationship with particular Miners Homestead Leases (Fig. 4.2).

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Table 4.1  Summary table of artefact material types and quantities Material Glass Metal Ceramic Masonry Wood Stone Concrete Charcoal Synthetic Faunal Vegetation Textile Leather Total

Artefacts 4719 3467 1480 820 674 411 296 108 39 13 6 2 1 12,036

Fig. 4.2  Distribution of features across survey area of town flat

Percentage 39.21 28.81 12.30 6.81 5.60 3.41 2.46 0.89 0.32 0.11 0.05 0.02 0.01 100

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All artefacts recorded in the field were subsequently analysed for function and form. The purpose of functional analysis is to allow the connection between archaeological evidence and interpretation of the social landscape. Nineteen categories of function were assigned and these were then subdivided into various forms. These fitted into five areas of activity—domestic, residential, ancillary, industrial and broader landscape. Artefacts and features related to the broader landscape, found during the township survey, include Aboriginal artefacts and imported vegetation. Although features such as roads, fencing and places distributed further afield provide more tangible evidence for the broader landscape, these individual artefacts help to establish external connections.

Mining and Processing Areas There was relatively better preservation of features in the mining and processing area in comparison to the township area, with a range of foundations, earthworks and building remnants being identified. This was a result of minimal clearing for agricultural and pastoral purposes. Industrial artefacts were primarily found on the hillside north of the township and were distributed unevenly across an area of approximately 12 hectares. The archaeological remains of this area shows the spatial and temporal extent of mining and processing (Fig.  4.3). Traces of different phases of operation are identifiable, supported by documentation such as plans extending from the 1890s through to the 1930s. A total of 26 features were identified in the industrial area (see Appendix B). In the industrial area the most prominent remnants were predominantly part of structural features and included masonry, concrete, timber and metal (particularly equipment components). A small amount of ceramic and glass artefacts was also found, some of which directly related to mineral processing and assaying. These included crucible bases (normally used for assay) and laboratory glass found in direct association with the Assay Office. Other artefacts were more domestic in nature, including fragments of ceramic white-ware and stoneware, and glass fragments associated with bottles. These were primarily found in association with a house platform interpreted as the location of the first Mine Managers house, although occasional fragments of bottle glass were identified elsewhere. Several cuttings for auxiliary buildings on the south side of the workings were also identified in the industrial area, together with a possible small limestone kiln and extensive tracks between the major mining and processing elements. In particular, the haul-way from the main adit to the original battery site was still intact however the haul-way from the main shaft to the upper stamper battery site had been obscured by later earthworks. These ancillary components of processing emphasise the extension of industrial landscapes beyond the immediacy of the mine adit and the processing foundations. The relationship between and within each of the different parts of the industrial area provides information about the functional operation

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Fig. 4.3  Distribution of industrial remnants across Mount Shamrock. The names of the various features reflect names used in archival documents and maps and contemporary newspaper articles

of the mine and mill. Mine shafts show not only the type of mining carried out, but the relationship between mines and processing operations and well as the proximity of different operations (such as Kent’s Knob and Mount Shamrock mines). The configuration of processing equipment, laid out in specific relationship to each other, is also reflected in the remnants. These features aid in understanding the process flow for the mineral processing used at Mount Shamrock and the connections between different areas of activity. Equally as important to understanding the history of mining is the proximity of different phases of the operation, which needed to be carefully established through comparison of styles of construction in conjunction with documentary evidence. Other considerations, such as the necessity of movement of ore, were addressed through the identification of haul-ways and stockpiling areas.

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Site Formation Processes Several phases of mining including recent exploration activities are part of a number of site formation processes at work in the landscape of Mount Shamrock. Both cultural and non-cultural or natural site formation processes (Schiffer 1987) which occurred in depositional or post-depositional contexts have impacted on the archaeological record. Original site formation processes included the initial mining activities, clearing of the township flat and mine area, timber cutting around the area to supply both construction material and fuel for boilers, and everyday activities resulting in the deposition of domestic material. The construction of the townscape, including buildings, roadways, creek crossings, dams and drainage channels all altered both the township flat and the adjacent waterways. A discrete deposition event occurred at the end of occupation, with the wholesale removal of buildings and transportable building materials together with the curation of house sites as residents moved away. The school building, for example, was moved to Biggenden. As a result of this process the structural remnants of buildings consisted primarily of patches of brick and concrete, building stumps and garden fences. As Sneddon (2006) argues, this planned removal can lead to an impoverished record that obscures the relative comfort of occupants’ lives. Some additional features were added after the township waned, and some remnants of this phase remain, most clearly the evidence of paddock fencing and dip yards. Mining itself has been an obvious part of site formation processes across the industrial area. Both historical and modern activities have altered the landscape and left a palimpsest of spoil heaps, trackways, earthworks, remnant foundations and tanks. Most equipment in the industrial area was removed with the end of mining, although some boilers were left in place. The relocation or removal of equipment to other sites, together with dismantling of buildings, mirrors the removal of dwellings on the town flat, providing another example of deliberate, although in this instance less complete, clearing. More recent activities, including the infilling of shafts, the creation of new roadways and the destruction of existing features for drill pads, have further altered the archaeological remnants. Mining exploration in the 1980s and more recently have substantially damaged nineteenth and early twentieth century processing traces, covering some foundations, and destroying some parts of the former processing areas as a result of earthworks. Across the entire landscape, natural post-depositional processes include the effects of rainfall, particularly flooding of the creek and water erosion, and damage of artefacts and features by cattle and ants. Particularly in the township area, cattle have caused additional fragmentation and spread of artefacts along cattle paths, while ants appear to have caused some subsurface artefacts to be brought to the surface (see Venn (2008) and Robins and Robins (2011) for discussion of the post-­ depositional effects of ants).Vegetation and weathering from water have had a particular impact on remnants in the mining area with concrete features being undercut by erosion and in some cases damaged by plants. Post-depositional cultural

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processes have included souvenir hunting, bottle collecting and collection of scrap metal (both in the industrial area and in the township). In particular, a large number of bottle collector holes have affected the integrity of the area of the town flat. Farm activities by the current landholder have added to post-depositional effects. Two sections of the town in the south have been extensively disturbed by ploughing and planting. The northern area has been left for grazing and surface archaeological remnants are more substantively in evidence, however bulldozer clearance by the current landholder in that area has had an impact on structural remnants. For example stumps, gateposts and fence posts were moved and piled near the creek bank. The long term quarrying of gravel to the west of the mine and town has also profoundly altered the broader landscape.

Summary Articulating an approach for the identification of spatial and social structuring of a gold mining landscape is key to finding a way into the multi-dimensional interconnected landscapes of Mount Shamrock. The constitution of the industrial and domestic landscapes of Mount Shamrock were revealed through the physical components located in the landscape, and spatial relationships revealed. The archaeological site recording, experiential analysis, archival data collection, and critical analysis undertaken for this project demonstrate an effective approach to realising interpretations of cultural landscape. Understanding of the phases of occupation and operation of the mining landscape is an important factor in this interpretation, underpinned by the context understood from historical narrative, which we now turn to.

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Bradley, R. 2003. Seeing things: Perception, experience and the constraints of excavation. Journal of Social Archaeology 3 (2): 151–168. Brooks, A. 2005a. Observing formalities: The use of functional artefact categories in Australian historical archaeology. Australasian Historical Archaeology 23: 7–14. ———. 2005b. An archaeological guide to British ceramics in Australia, 1788–1901. Sydney: The Australasian Society for Historical Archaeology. Burke, H. 1999. Meaning and ideology in historical archaeology: Style, social identity and capitalism in an Australian town. New York: Plenum Publishers. Byrne, D., and M.  Nugent. 2004. Mapping attachment: A spatial approach to aboriginal post-­ contact heritage. Department of Environment and Conservation (NSW): Hurstville. Casey, M. 2004. Falling through the cracks: Method and practice at the CSR site, Pyrmont. Australasian Historical Archaeology 22: 27–43. Crook, P. 2011. Rethinking assemblage analysis: New approaches to the archaeology of working-­ class neighborhoods. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 15 (4): 582–593. Crook, P., S. Lawrence, and M. Gibbs. 2002. The role of artefact catalogues in Australian historical archaeology: A framework for discussion. Australasian Historical Archaeology 20: 26–38. Delle, J.A. 1998. An archaeology of social space: Analysing coffee plantations in Jamaica’s Blue Mountains. New York: Plenum Press. Fleming, A. 2006. Post-processual landscape archaeology: A critique. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 16 (3): 267–280. Gosden, C. 2004. Archaeology and colonialism: Cultural contact form 5000 BC to the present. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gosden, C., and L.  Head. 1994. Landscape  – A usefully ambiguous concept. Archaeology in Oceania 29: 113–116. Greene, K. 2006. Archaeology and technology. In A companion to archaeology, ed. J.  Bintliff, 155–173. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. Hardesty, D. 1998. Power and the industrial mining community in the American West. In Social approaches to an industrial past: The archaeology and anthropology of mining, ed. A.B. Knapp, V.C. Pigott, and E.W. Herbert, 81–96. London: Routledge. ———. 2003. Mining rushes and landscape learning in the modern world. In Colonisation of unfamiliar landscapes: The archaeology of adaption, ed. M. Rockman and J. Steele, 81–95. London: Routledge. Head, L. 2000. Cultural landscapes and environmental change. London: Hodder Headline Group. Ingold, T. 1993. The temporality of the landscape. World Archaeology 25 (2): 152–174. ———. 2000. The temporality of the landscape. In Interpretive archaeology: A reader, ed. J. Thomas, 510–530. London: Leicester University Press. Johnson, M. 2007. Ideas of landscape. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. Kealhofer, L. 1999. Creating social identity in the landscape: Tidewater, Virginia, 1600–1750. In Archaeologies of landscape: Contemporary perspectives, ed. W.  Ashmore and B.A.  Knapp, 58–82. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Killick, D. 2004. Social constructionist approaches to the study of technology. World Archaeology 36 (4): 571–578. Knapp, A.B. 1998. Social approaches to the archaeology and anthropology of mining. In Social approaches to an industrial past: The archaeology and anthropology of mining, ed. A.B. Knapp, V.C. Pigott, and E.W. Herbert, 1–23. London: Routledge. Knapp, A.B., and W.  Ashmore. 1999. Archaeological landscapes: Constructed, conceptualized, ideational. In Archaeologies of landscape: Contemporary perspectives, ed. W. Ashmore and B.A. Knapp, 1–30. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Lawrence, S. 2000. Dolly’s Creek: An archaeology of a Victorian Goldfields Community. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press. Lennon, J. 2000. Victorian goldfields: Tentative world heritage listing. Historic Environment 14 (5): 70–74.

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Leone, M. 1984. Interpreting ideology in historical archaeology: Using the rules and perspective in the William Paca Garden in Annapolis, Maryland. In Ideology, power and prehistory, ed. D. Miller and C. Tilley, 25–35. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lightfoot, K.G., A. Martinez, and A.M. Schiffer. 1998. Daily practice and material culture in pluralistic social settings: An archaeological study of culture change and persistence from Fort Ross, California. American Antiquity 63 (2): 199–223. McGowan, B. 2001. Mullock heaps and tailing mounds: Environmental effects of alluvial goldmining. In Gold: Forgotten histories and lost objects of Australia, ed. I. McCalman, A. Cook, and A. Reeves, 85–100. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Murphy, K. 2008. Mill point: Community and identity in colonial Queensland. Paper presented at the 6th world archaeological congress, Dublin. Orser, C.E. 2010. Twenty-first-century historical archaeology. Journal of Archaeological Research 18 (2): 111–150. Palmer, M. 2004. The archaeology of industrialization: Introduction. In The archaeology of industrialization, ed. D. Barker and D. Cranstone, 1–4. Leeds: Maney Publishing. Robins, R., and A. Robins. 2011. The antics of ants: Ants as agents of bioturbation in a midden deposit in Southeast Queensland. Environmental Archaeology 16 (2): 151–161. Russell, L. 2004. Drinking from the pen-holder: Intentionality and archaeological theory. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 14 (1): 64–67. Schiffer, M.B. 1987. Formation processes of the archaeological record. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Sneddon, A. 2006. Seeing slums through rose coloured glasses. Australian Archaeology 63: 1–8. Thomas, J. 1993. The politics of vision and the archaeologies of landscape. In Landscape: Politics and perspectives, ed. B. Bender, 19–48. Oxford: Berg. ———. 2001. Archaeologies of place and landscape. In Archaeological theory today, ed. I. Hodder, 163–186. Cambridge: Polity. ———. 2006. The great dark book: Archaeology, experience and interpretation. In A companion to archaeology, ed. J. Bintliff, 21–36. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. ———. 2008. Archaeology, landscape and dwelling. In Handbook of landscape archaeology, ed. B. David and J. Thomas, 300–306. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press Inc. Tilley, C. 1993. Art, architecture and landscape [Neolithic Sweden]. In Landscape: Politics and perspective, ed. B. Bender, 49–84. Oxford: Berg. ———. 1994. A phenomenology of landscape: Places, paths and monuments. Oxford: Berg. Uzzell, D. 2004. The dialectic of past-present relations. In The archaeology of industrialization, ed. D. Barker and D. Cranstone, 5–14. Leeds: Many Publishing. Venn, C. 2008. Disturbing effects: Towards an understanding of the impact of ant and termite activity on Australian archaeological sites. Unpublished Honours thesis, School of Social Science, University of Queensland, St Lucia. Wilkinson, T.J. 2006. The archaeology of landscape. In A companion to archaeology, ed. J. Bintliff, 334–356. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. Wilson, M., and B.  David. 2002. Introduction. In Inscribed landscapes: Marking and making place, ed. B. David and M. Wilson. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press.

Chapter 5

The History of Mount Shamrock: Four Miles from Degilbo Head Station

The residents of Mount Shamrock led lives beset by all the difficulties and excitement of everyday life. They attended school, courted, got married, had children, lost children, had broken hearts and broken arms, died, argued, gave each other gifts, got sick or drunk and hated the rain (Bilbrough n.d.). The narrative of the life of the settlement and its people is presented in this chapter, built from archaeological and documentary evidence, illuminating the everyday aspects of life in a nineteenth century mining town. These data also illuminate the establishment of the town, the development of the townscape and the mines associated with the settlement, and the place of Mount Shamrock in the Upper Burnett. The town operated under colonial frameworks related to control of land, mining and education, and social mores associated with religion, status and acceptable behaviours. The artefacts of Mount Shamrock demonstrate links between the town and national and international consumer networks, while the mining remnants connect a modest resource settlement to the global phenomenon of commodification of minerals, the immense expansion of gold supply networks, and associated settler colonialism. In Mount Shamrock, the Australian experience of gold rushes, their variability and the initial frenzy of change and promise is reflected in microcosm. One oral account of the naming of Mount Shamrock suggests that prospectors looking for gold around Degilbo named the location. They had travelled to Degilbo and, having arranged to meet the coach in several days’ time, explored the area with no result. On their way back to the rendezvous with the coach, they decided to climb one last hill in search of minerals. As they rested at the top of the hill, one of the group casually picked away at the surface and, lo and behold, discovered gold. To celebrate this lucky find, they opened their last remaining bottle of beer and christened their find Mount Shamrock in honour of the markings on the beer bottle. Regardless of the stories, gold was discovered on Degilbo Station in early July 1886, at the boundary of the original Degilbo lease and the Chowey lease, just near the confluence of Didcot and Chowey Creeks.

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The Discovery of Gold Gold was first found by a group of men from Maryborough and Gympie. Within days sufficient ore had been mined to send to Gympie for trial crushing and, with information disseminated through almost daily accounts in both the Maryborough and Brisbane newspapers, a rush to the new township of Mount Shamrock commenced. Miners from across the district, including syndicates from Maryborough, Gympie and Gayndah, immediately began pegging out claims (The Maryborough Chronicle 14 July 1886). The Mining Warden from Gayndah, William Parry-Okeden, arrived on 14 July 1886 and telegraphed the Under-Secretary for Mines: Prospectors at Mount Shamrock, thirty miles from Gayndah, and sixty-five miles from Maryborough, have formally reported apparently payable gold. I visited the ground, and being satisfied of the value of the discovery, laid off for the prospectors 650ft. including a reward claim. I also laid off other claims north and south along the supposed line of the Shamrock reef. About eighty men are on the ground (The Brisbane Courier 17 July 1886)

Prospectors continued pegging claims and several parties were in dispute over land with accusations of claim jumping, although agreement was soon reached by amalgamating claims. By 23 July 1886 the Mining Warden had formally declared Mount Shamrock a provisional goldfield (The Brisbane Courier 18 August 1886) and more than 150 miners were reported to have descended on the new goldfield by the end of the month. Some were inexperienced, not even having the correct tools (The Maryborough Chronicle 5 August 1886; The Brisbane Courier 18 August 1886). By August there were approximately eight hard rock claims being systematically worked and a further four alluvial claims being explored on the flats. Ore from the workings was initially sent to Gympie for processing; the results of assaying were eagerly awaited and broadly reported with high expectations of prosperity (The Brisbane Courier 14 July 1886; The Maryborough Chronicle 12 July 1886, 4, 13 August 1886). Arrivals from the established mining centre of Gympie came, often with working knowledge of mining, while those from Maryborough and Gayndah appear to have been members of the business community seeking a lucrative venture in mining. Many of the miners came as part of syndicates from these towns and the same names appear on several leases. For example, Fassifern Kent and eight others from Maryborough and Gayndah pegged out Kent’s Knob in an area adjacent to the prospectors’ claim. Some of these names also appeared on the leases for Mount Shamrock Prospectors Claim, the United 1 & 2 North Mount Shamrock, and the East Mount Shamrock. Other speculators included a Gayndah syndicate with members of limited experience (such as the local Coach Driver, Henry Wockner, together with the father and brother of the Mining Warden, Parry-Okeden—the same Parry-­ Okeden who went on to become a high profile administrator, whose roles included Commissioner of Police and Protector of Aborigines). Twelve months later there were a total of 11 claims being consistently worked on the site (Fig. 5.1), including the original prospectors’ claim. By that time, Joseph

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Fig. 5.1  Sketch map of Mining Leases in July 1887 (Based on illustration in Maryborough Chronicle 27 July 1887, plan reproduced by Kate Quirk). The remains of at least nine of mine shafts were located in the archaeological survey of Mount Shamrock

Lalonde had been appointed manager for the Mount Shamrock Gold Mining and Quartz Crushing Company and three shifts per day were in operation (The Brisbane Courier 18 January 1887). Although 3000 ounces of gold were shipped in a 6 month period in 1887, Mount Shamrock remained a provisional goldfield. The discovery of gold prompted prospecting across the district; traces of gold were found at Mount Ophir and Mount Melville adjacent to Mount Shamrock and silver at Allendale and Chowey Creek. The large scale of exploration, together with local agitation, ensured a visit by the Government geologist, William Rands (The Brisbane Courier 3, 18 August 1886). In late 1886, Rands reported to Parliament on the field, presenting a reserved view that the likelihood of gold beyond existing finds

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at Mount Shamrock and Mount Ophir was poor (Rands 1886). Nevertheless, the events at Mount Shamrock were welcomed in the region. It was felt that: The value of a permanent mining town in that direction to Maryborough would be inestimable and we can only hope that the busy search around Degilbo will end in Maryborough suffering another stinging salvation (The Maryborough Chronicle 17 July 1886, emphasis added).

The attention of communities in Gayndah, Maryborough, Gympie, and even Brisbane, to the exploration and discovery of gold in the area can be considered in the context of the emphasis on exploration at that time as a result of economic and political events both locally and across Queensland. The proximity of Maryborough to the relatively wealthy goldfield of Gympie had clearly highlighted the advantage of mineral wealth, as had the successes of Charters Towers and Ravenswood in the previous decade. Changes wrought in these districts as a result of considerable income from gold included infrastructure and business growth; in addition to opportunities for expanding population, these would have been much sought after in a decentralised colony that was still less than 30 years old. Ready acceptance of the find and the relatively swift movement of miners to the new field can also be seen in the light of the contemporary view of Queensland at that time as a place of extensive mineral wealth. While not a rush of the scale of earlier relocations of people in Queensland to the Palmer River or Gympie, the discovery of gold at Mount Shamrock was seen as an affirmation of that belief (The Maryborough Chronicle 27 July 1886), the flurry of activity associated with the finds at Mount Shamrock bringing people and money to the district.

The Making of a Town Miners and business people came quickly to the new mining settlement and a township was soon established. James Mortleman, a storekeeper from Gayndah, arrived with his family, supplies and tools on a wagon and set up business within two weeks of the discovery of gold. Thomas Richards, a local hawker, also arrived with stores together with his common-law wife and their children. As many of the newcomers had no supplies, the availability of provisions was an important consideration, reliant on the coach service between Maryborough and Gayndah. Supplies from Maryborough included flour, sugar, tea and bread (The Maryborough Chronicle 21–27 July 1886; The Brisbane Courier 31 July 1886). Conditions in the earliest days of the goldfield matched all the usual rhetoric of a rush town (albeit on a small scale) with a tent-town, claim jumping, rough justice, celebrations and even the local Catholic priest joining the rush to peg ground (in the second version of how Mount Shamrock was named, presumably for an Irish connection): Father Fouhey, who paid the field a visit on a pastoral round, and named the find Mount Shamrock, before the rush set in, has been up there again, and on Saturday was fully in

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keeping with the general idea of things, by pegging out a piece of land for the future Roman Catholic chapel (The Maryborough Chronicle 27 July 1886).

A police station was opened in September 1886, at which time it was estimated that there were over 200 people in Mount Shamrock. Conditions were however still fairly basic: [Letters] are, in fact, just chucked into the coach at Maryborough or Gayndah, and chucked out when they arrive here to our enterprising townsman citizen Mattiman [Mortleman], and by him carried to his store, a palatial edifice in the early Australian style of architecture – to wit a bark humpy, which in his absence is securely fastened with a saddle-strap. Here they calmly repose till wanted, on some rough shelves, amongst the tea, coffee, and tinned fish, the post office apparently not being able to afford even a boot-trunk with a lock and key for the conduct of its business (The Brisbane Courier 27 October 1886).

However, things quickly changed and a township with permanent dwellings emerged within a year, (The Maryborough Chronicle 17 February 1887). The location of the township on flat ground west of Didcot Creek is attributed to the Mining Warden, Edmund Craven (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887). However, by the time Craven identified a “suitable” location, established residences and shops were already in place, many of which had been settled in the earliest days of the rush. By February 1887, visitors claimed for Mount Shamrock “a more settled and business-­ like aspect” with “bark and iron taking the place of tents”. Three stores were in operation (run by Cairns, Mortleman and Richards) and Fredrick Korn (previously the station butcher at Degilbo) ran a butcher shop. A boarding house was set up and meals were available from miners’ wives. Milk was provided by J.  Kitchen who kept dairy cows, there was a baker within the town, and butter and other produce was brought in from Gayndah (The Maryborough Chronicle 12, 17 Feb 1887). Although roads had been established, flooding could render provisions in short supply (The Brisbane Courier 10 March 1887). While many of the residences at Mount Shamrock were impermanent, in early 1887, Hugh Cairns constructed a “a large and substantial hotel, not a bark humpy but a real town house of sawn timber, containing two parlours, four bedrooms, large dining room, bar, kitchen … to be furnished in good style” (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887) in anticipation of gaining a hotel licence. By August, licences had been granted to Cairns and another applicant, David Ryrie (QGG 1887). Residents of Mount Shamrock were also attempting to create a sense of community and an intellectual environment, deciding to establish a reading room in 1887 (around 25 people expressing an intention of joining). A committee made up of several prominent members of the community including Furlong (Mine Manager), Parry, McGee (possibly the McGhie that later went on to create a position of some prominence for himself at Paradise) and O’Leary. The committee called on Hugh Cairns for his support and provision of a large tent that could be used until sufficient funds could be found to construct a suitable venue (The Maryborough Chronicle 8 June 1887). Around the same time, another group of residents, including Mortleman, Lalonde, Gould, Smith and Hinch, formed a committee to request a telegraph, post

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office and money order office on the field. They evidently undertook this move with full knowledge and understanding not only of the administrative process required, but also in clear acceptance of the place of Mount Shamrock within the local mining and pastoral landscape: In accordance with the foregoing, the committee have drawn up a requisition to the Postmaster-General setting forth the requirements of the field, which as soon as the residents on the field and at Gebangle, Didcot, Stanton Harcourt and Degilbo have been obtained, will be forwarded (The Maryborough Chronicle 9 May 1887).

By August 1887 a number of permanent dwellings were established and the police were requesting permission to rent a house, a suitable building being available and preferable to accommodations in a tent. However, for the first few years, the township remained somewhat rough and ready with “houses, tents and humpies on the flat” as Elsie Bilbrough (a young English woman who was the first government teacher at the school) described when she arrived in town in 1890 (Bilbrough n.d.). By then, the mine was operational, the Mount Shamrock Gold and Quartz Crushing Company was listed on the Stock Exchange and the township of Mount Shamrock was serviced by coach and mail routes. Today the roadways of Mount Shamrock are the most easily identifiable remnants in the landscape. Some portions of the roads are still in use, and other parts are visible when the grass is low, in the dry season. Archaeological features of the butcher’s shop (concrete slab floors), the Post Office (stone kerbing running along the roadway) and Berrie’s Hotel (stumps and depressions) amongst others illustrate the development of the townscape. While the remnants represent over 50 years and several phases of building, they link directly to the inhabitants and demonstrate the configuration and location of homes and businesses, and the building materials and landscape features installed by the residents. Structural material, including bricks, stumps, cladding, fencing and fastenings, has allowed identification of some of the dwellings across the town flat. [Cladding, in the form of flattened kerosene tins, is frequently found across many nineteenth century sites in Queensland, as it is an easily accessible cladding, speaking to a lesser degree of permanence than brick as a cladding, and more easily shaped and applied than timber.] Block boundaries are delineated by remnant fence lines, and the location and size of dwellings is provided by the distribution of structural components consisting predominantly of stump alignments, depressions and brick clusters; these artefacts appeared to be largely associated with buildings (Fig. 5.2). Plantings of functional and decorative vegetation (Fig. 5.3) further contribute to the picture of the townscape and the homes of the residents.

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109

Fig. 5.2  Distribution of features with respect to Miners Homestead Leases, related to leaseholders

Fig. 5.3  Remnant palm tree and hoop pine on town flat at Mount Shamrock

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5  The History of Mount Shamrock: Four Miles from Degilbo Head Station

The Residents of Mount Shamrock By the time of the 1891 census, the total population of Mount Shamrock and surrounds was 222. Adult females represented less than half the number of men (31–84) and 48% of the population were designated “minors” (under 21) (Census of the Colony of Queensland 1891). Considering that school age was deemed to be under 15 at that time, it can be said that 55% of the population was made up of women and children. This is comparable to nearby Paradise in 1891–1893. There the population was more than 500, of which approximately half were women and children (Quirk 2007:134). In Eidsvold, also in Upper Burnett, in 1891, 66% of the population were women and school age children. Lawrence (1998:46) identified a similar trend at the mining town of Dolly’s Creek in Victoria, thirty years previously, finding over half the population there were women and children. This trend in the demographic composition of gold-mining communities argues against the popular discourse of mining towns being male dominated spheres of activity. In fact it seems that at Mount Shamrock, the presence of women was much accepted and looked on as a bonus for the township: Some very comfortable boarding houses are there, where visitors can rely on excellent meals, well cooked and cleanly served by some very attractive specimens of the fair sex, who, by the way, are now fairly numerous on the field in the welcome capacity of good wives or mothers (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887).

Women, in their capacity of “good wives and mothers” were prominent in the community. Some, such as Mrs. Burns, worked as storekeepers, others raised children and “Granny” Bayntun was kept busy as a midwife. Some families, such as the Lalondes and the Kidbys, had teenage daughters who began taking on other roles in the community. Assertions of a “comfortable” existence are further supported by the archaeological record which demonstrates the nature of everyday domestic life of residents. Artefacts represent the range of material culture available to residents. Ceramics and glassware in particular provide evidence of the range of goods accessible and consumed, and the aim of promoting a settled domestic abode. Ceramic tableware, some with transfer printed patterns, salt glazed stoneware storage jars, teapots and bottles for soft drink (soda) and alcohol were all used for the presentation, consumption and storage of food and beverages. There were 60 separate transfer print patterns found on domestic ceramics, with patterns ranging from utilitarian banded-­ ware and poor quality transfer prints to finer patterns in a range of colours. Identified back stamps indicated some ceramics were imported from Britain (Fig. 5.4). It was not possible to reconcile these back-stamps with any particular decorative pattern found, however, Grindley and Ridgeways of Stafford both produced middle of the range quality ceramics. Artefacts with specialised functions (such as containers for hygiene products, components of furnishing, and pieces of writing slates and slate pencils) further indicate intimate aspects of everyday life. These included personal items such as beads  and buttons  (Fig. 5.5), pieces of clocks, musical instruments and sewing

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111

Fig. 5.4  Backstamps: (a) Ridgeways, Stoke on Trent 1880 1890; (b) Grindley, Stafford 1891–1925; (c) Clementson Brothers 1867–1880; (d) …WARE, unknown; (e) … LOW, Unknown; (f) ROY…, unknown

Fig. 5.5 (a) Shamrock button and (b) Glass bead

equipment (Fig. 5.6). There was a small number of toys represented (part of a toy dinner set and marbles). Fifteen pieces of smoking pipe were also found including both clay pipes and bakelite mouthpieces, together with two tobacco tins (Fig. 5.7). Although site formation processes have affected artefact distribution, the domestic evidence appears to still be clearly linked to structural remnants of individual households. As well as illustrating the everyday consumption of goods, the artefacts present at Mount Shamrock also show that the residents participated in consumer behaviours that linked them to commodities and networks of supply from across the world. Whether everyday domestic items were brought with the residents when they arrived, bought on trips to major centres, or procured by local shopkeepers, the residents consumed condiments like Holbrook’s Worcestershire sauce, medicines such as Wood’s Peppermint Cure and Kruschen Salts, and used garment fasteners such as Crown and Royal Letters buttons, and drank beverages manufactured as far afield as

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5  The History of Mount Shamrock: Four Miles from Degilbo Head Station

Fig. 5.6 (a) Harmonica reed plate (b) Singer sewing machine manufacturer’s plate

Fig. 5.7  Pipe fragments

Britain and as nearby as Brisbane. Residents ate off plates made in the potteries of the Midlands of the UK, consumed alcohol from Europe and used sewing machines imported from the USA. Even industrial consumables were imported with furnace bricks and assay crucibles manufactured in Britain found. Along with the context of a global world in terms of the finance and economy of gold, families were also tangibly embedded in a global consumer network. With children composing around one third of the community, family life was lived out in full. James Mortleman for example had four children of school age, Josephine, Charlotte, Fredrick and Thomas (who was only two years old when the family moved to Mount Shamrock to reside in a bark hut). Mortleman was one of the most active community members in seeking the founding of a school, establishing the official Post Office (Fig. 5.8), raising his family and ending his days in the town as a well-respected auctioneer. There were a range of occupations held by residents at Mount Shamrock and many people were employed either directly or indirectly by the mines. These included miners, a range of managers for different companies, “sawyers, and timber drawers” (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887), carters, and blacksmiths and, as already mentioned, a number of business people were operating in the town. Women were also employed as seamstresses, shopkeepers and boarding house managers, as teachers and as midwives. People appeared to move between occupations

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113

Fig. 5.8  Mount Shamrock Post Office, the Mortleman sisters standing outside (John Oxley Library, Image No 196271)

in order to make a living (or perhaps occasionally to capitalise on a perceived opportunity). For example, O’Leary, a miner, was working at the Richards’ store in 1887, and another labourer was acting as an undertaker at that time (The Maryborough Chronicle 14 January 1887). Fassifern Kent, miner and mine owner at Mount Shamrock, was appointed Justice of the Peace alongside James McGhie, a high profile “capitalist” at Paradise (Prangnell et al. 2005). Tweed, who was mine manager for North Shamrock mine (The Brisbane Courier 22 November 1886), later opened a drinking establishment at Mount Shamrock (Bilbrough n.d.) and then turned baker at Paradise (Prangnell et al. 2005). Hugh Cairns, although appearing principally to be a business man, was also the primary claimant on the Ellen claim; so we see miners becoming shopkeepers and shopkeepers becoming miners. Later residents were also employed in agriculture, many taking smallholdings within the extended boundaries of the gold field. Artefacts related to construction and agricultural activity were found relatively intact and reasonably abundant within the survey area and these included carpentry tools, ploughshares, rakes, and even evidence of carting. Functional tools were also found that may have been used in a range of activities, including construction, agriculture and industrial undertakings (and therefore not specific to any one context). These include tools such as blacksmithing tools, transport equipment and weapons. Many artefacts that were industrial in nature could also be classified for other functions—for example furnace bricks, clearly of industrial provenance, were used in domestic buildings in the township. Across the Burnett in the late 1880s, the population was predominantly Queensland born (53%) or born in Britain and Ireland (28%), the next largest group being German born residents (8%) (Census of the Colony of Queensland 1891). A

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5  The History of Mount Shamrock: Four Miles from Degilbo Head Station

range of ethnic groups were represented in the residents of Mount Shamrock, including Germans (Denzler, Brand, Mortleman and Korn), Welsh (Parry and Williams) and Irish (O’Leary and O’Malley). Although there were a number of Chinese people in the district, none appear to have been resident at Mount Shamrock. There is some documentary evidence for the presence of an Aboriginal fringe camp (Bilbrough n.d.; The Brisbane Courier 15 September 1891), and there is direct evidence of the presence of Aboriginal people in the area, identifiable through two artefacts—an edge ground axe and a piece of a grindstone. While not specifically in a context that indicates the use of these artefacts contemporaneously with the occupation of Mount Shamrock, the artefacts are located within the town boundaries. On the whole however, the residents were of predominantly European descent. Certainly, the affairs of the town appear to have been conducted within the dominant spirit of British colonial society. In 1888, the residents of Mount Shamrock excelled themselves attending “a very pleasant evening … entertain(ing) a large and fashionable audience” at Gayndah. The “Misses Lalonde, from Mount Shamrock, charmed the audience with their pianoforte duets, as also did the Welshman from the same location” (The Wide Bay and Burnett News 6 October 1888). This event, organised by the Mining Warden and attended by members of the clergy as well as local well-­ to-­do pastoral families, demonstrates the social context of the time. Social activities and events at Mount Shamrock included the meetings of the Temperance Society, the provision of a reading room and musical evenings at home. Dances and community picnics, such as that for Arbour Day (Bilbrough n.d.) and cricket matches (Johns 1892–1942) were part of the community social calendar. Visiting entertainers to Mount Shamrock such as a circus conjurer and a phrenologist, meetings with the local Member of Parliament, and Saturday night dances were all presented at the school (Bilbrough n.d.).

School and Sunday School—Education and Religion Education and religion played an important part in life at Mount Shamrock. Initially children were taught informally by the Lalonde sisters (Fig. 5.10), families contributing a shilling per week to the running of the school. A petition raised in 1889 to request an established school was signed by local residents—including miners, carters, shopkeepers and hoteliers, both with children and without (Table  5.1). This interest in the provision of a school, expressed even by those without children, could be interpreted as an illustration of the importance of education to the community or alternatively a demonstration of the desire to present a picture of an “established” town. In the letter of request, there was a stated aspiration for children “receiv(e) instruction to fit them for their social scale in life”. (Although it is possible that some degree of self-interest was at play in petitioning for a teacher: the first teacher, Elsie Bilbrough, had more than one attentive miner call on her.) A provisional school was established by the Department of Public Instruction and a school house was constructed in the proposed location (Figs. 5.9 and 5.10)

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115

Table 5.1  Original petitioners for establishment of school, presented January 1889 (QSA 15567) Name J. Alkin T. Allen J. & G. Baker J. Bayntun W. Belleart J. Boden W. Burns H. Cairns A. Campbell A. Campbell Jnr J. Cause J. Collins D. Davies J. Denzler T. Dicker A. Don A. Farrar A. Finney W. Fuller G. Harvey P. Higgins J Hislehuist D. John T. Kidby F. Korn

Occupation

Children

Miner Carter Miner

3 1

Storekeeper (assistant) Tobacconist Publican 1 2 Mine Manager

Carter 3

Publican

3

Miner 1

Name W. Lang D. Lewis H. Long J. Louis D. McKibben J. Money W. Moore M. Morgan G. Morris J. Mortleman L. O’Malley W. Parry G. Pinkerton T. Richards D. Ryrie S. Shereleing G. Spearman J. Tweed W. Tweed E. Uren J. Weeks W. Wheeler J. Williams P. Williams

Occupation

Children

4 Policeman 1

Post Master

4 1

Miner Miner Store Keeper Publican

Miner Publican

1

Miner Miner

Butcher

after the petition was favourably received. School formally commenced in 1890 when Elsie Bilbrough arrived. Accommodation for the teacher was an issue, leading Elsie to board for a time, first with the Weeks’, then at Mrs. Burns’ shop and finally with the another family. The school house was altered in 1891 while Elsie was still at the school, to provide living accommodation for the teacher, although by 1896 a family was occupying the teachers’ residence and Grace Smith, a teacher there in 1896–97 claimed that there was no suitable accommodation available on the field. The cost for accommodation at that time was approximately 15–18 shillings per week, from an annual teachers’ salary of around £80 per annum—over half their income. By 1905 there appears to have been a separate teachers’ residence on Paradise Road, opposite the school on the town flat. The school building was slightly altered in 1902 and then replaced in 1906 by the school building from Paradise (Fig. 5.11). The old Mount Shamrock school building, in a poor state, was sold off for £16 and removed. The school was kept in good repair over the following thirty years—it was re-roofed after cyclonic winds in 1909, re-fenced in 1910, and the grounds cleared of Prickly Pear in 1933. Remnants

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5  The History of Mount Shamrock: Four Miles from Degilbo Head Station

Fig. 5.9  Proposed location of school, also showing location of Police Station, Mine Manager’s House, Water Reserve, Post Office, Hotel and tents (QSA 15567)

of the school—situated on the hill on the western side of the southern portion of the township—are limited, particularly as both school buildings were relocated from Mount Shamrock. The school remnants consisted of corner posts of the school building, together with structural evidence of a tank stand, while limited artefactual material was found. However the school reserve was enclosed by an extensive remnant fence line, the upkeep of which was also noted in archives.

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117

Fig. 5.10  Mount Shamrock school ca 1889 (John Oxley Library, Image No 18010)

Fig. 5.11  Plan and elevation drawing of Mount Shamrock school c1891 (left) and school house moved from Paradise in 1906 (QSA 15567)

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5  The History of Mount Shamrock: Four Miles from Degilbo Head Station

Fig. 5.12 School attendance 1886–1935 (Composed from School Returns 1890–1935) (QSA 10341)

Overall, the school population fluctuated in concert with the work at the mine. At its most popular, it had a regular attendance of 57 (Fig. 5.12); however, the school never grew beyond a one-teacher school. Fourteen teachers attended through the life of school from a range of backgrounds, both from Britain and Queensland (Table 5.2). Some (although not all) seem to have been successful career teachers. Most were young with little experience but in later years more experienced teachers were sent by the Department of Public Instruction. Arthur Ebbesen, at Mount Shamrock for less than a year, was found to be unsatisfactory after a promising start, the school inspector commenting that he was “more fitted for digging than teaching”. Harvey (Harry) Johns, the most experienced teacher to work at Mount Shamrock, had a long sojourn at the school. His diary records initial impressions of the town, and accounts of bicycle tours of the district. As a keen amateur geologist he visited not only the mine at Mount Shamrock but the smelter at Mount Perry, the mine at Biggenden and an old zinc prospect at Ban Ban Springs. He also took an active role in the district cricket team, captaining Biggenden in a tournament at Maryborough, taking office as Vice President and then President of the local cricketing association and also steering a Mount Shamrock school boy team (Fig. 5.13) to several victories over neighbouring schools (Johns 1892–1942). Elsie Bilbrough also left a diary. She gives a rich account of social activities at Mount Shamrock: visits, walks, hymn singing and evenings decorating bonnets were typical pastimes. She was also instrumental in initiating a temperance league in the

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119

Table 5.2  Teaching staff at Mount Shamrock (compiled from QSA 15567, QSA 987867, QSA 987876-QSA987880) Teacher Elsie Bilbrough C. J. England Grace Smith Minnie Norris Henry Schafer

Resident 1890–1891 1892–1894 1896–1897 1898 1899–1901

Arthur Ebbesen H.E.G. Grayson

1902 1903–1908

George A Moulday Harvey W. Johns

1909–1911

William W. Weir Percy N. Capern John D. Nock M.J. Carroll Audrey Ridley

1917–1918 1919 1920–1926 1927–1928 1929–1935

1912–1916

Comments British, first school, 20yo First school, approximately 20yo British, first school, 20yo Queenslander, first school, 19yo Died while at Mount Shamrock, haemorrhaging after a coughing fit Queenslander, first school, 22yo, poet Queenslander, previously taught at Ravenswood, and Laura, moved to Mount Shamrock from Cania, 27yo Queenslander, previously taught in Charters Towers, 29yo, took up selection in area Teaching since 1893, previously taught in Bollon, Cardwell, Milford & Wallumbilla, 39yo

Married teacher, wife taught needlework at the school Born in Queensland, 19yo

Fig. 5.13  Mount Shamrock Schoolboy Cricket Team (John Oxley Library)

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5  The History of Mount Shamrock: Four Miles from Degilbo Head Station

town. However, it is apparent that it was not all cups of tea and religious meetings during her time at Mount Shamrock. There was some drunken behaviour, criticised by Elsie, who commented several times in her diary on people drunk in the morning, people drunk at the dance and drunken brawling in the street. In 1891, while she was still in residence at the town, a new public house was opened (Bilbrough n.d.). All in all, a mining town may not have been the ideal first teaching post for a 20 year old, teetotal English woman who had arrived in Australia only months earlier. Nevertheless, she continued at the school for eighteen months (Fig.  5.14), making a number of friends and taking part in community life, which included visiting the mine and socialising with miners, local store owners and their families, the Mine Manager (Joseph Lalonde) and his wife and daughters, and attending the local dances (Bilbrough n.d.). Although Mount Shamrock may not have been wholly decorous, the picture painted in Elsie Bilbrough’s diary suggests permanence and a degree of social structure different from ideas of rough and ready mining towns. Elsie Bilbrough was a devout Christian who lamented the lack of a place for regular worship and instituted Sunday school for her charges (Bilbrough n.d.). Although there was no church at Mount Shamrock, visiting ministers held occasional services. In the 1890s, there were visits from nearby ministers who held services in the school including Mr. Doyle from Gayndah, ministers from Paradise and Reverend Brown, a Wesleyan minister from Bundaberg (Bilbrough n.d.). The township continued to be serviced regionally into the twentieth century, with Reverend Puxley from Gayndah officiating at wedding of Bertha Denzler and Herbert Bayntun (The Maryborough Chronicle 5 December 1902). Teachers played a role in the social life of the community in organising celebrations such as Arbour Day (Bilbrough n.d.) and local cricket events (Johns

Fig. 5.14  Elsie Bilbrough and her class outside Mount Shamrock School 1891 (John Oxley Library, Image No 196272)

Links to Paradise

121

1892–1942). Conversely, community members played an active role in the school. From presentation of petitions to have a school opened, reopened and attempts to upgrade to a State School, to the number of local people serving on the school board, there was clearly a commitment to education. When the new school building was brought in from Paradise there was considerable community discussion about re-locating the school to a more convenient position. However, despite much argument about a more suitable and accessible location, the school remained in a prominent position on the hill, overlooking the town (QSA 15567). The school building itself was also a focal point in the community being the venue for regular dances, church and Sunday school services, and rendered service as the local polling booth and local meeting house (Bilbrough n.d.).

Links to Paradise One of the most far reaching and significant events in Mount Shamrock’s history occurred elsewhere. The discovery of gold at nearby Paradise in 1889 induced many people to move there, resulting in a dramatic decline in the population of Mount Shamrock. Although more gradual than a rush, over the four years from the initial discovery, families such as the Bayntuns, Burns, Denzlers, Allens, Moore, Higgins and Bodens, many of them miners, moved to the new mining town of Paradise (Fig. 5.15) and by 1892 had taken up Miners Homestead Leases there.

Fig. 5.15  Paradise Courthouse and main street (inset) (John Oxley Library, Image No 67269)

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5  The History of Mount Shamrock: Four Miles from Degilbo Head Station

The Mining Warden at that time, W.R.O.  Hill (based in Gayndah), proposed establishing a monthly court at Mount Shamrock to deal with mining matters for the area, having visited regularly and held hearings there (The Wide Bay and Burnett News 18 September 1890). However, after agitation by James McGhie, who appeared to have a strong influence on the warden (The Wide Bay and Burnett News 21 April 1891), the decision was taken to set up hearings of the Mining Wardens Court in Paradise. This, combined with McGhie’s successful canvas in 1890 to hold a Court of Petty Sessions there, meant that the focus of government oversight firmly shifted from the established operations at Mount Shamrock to the new but well-­ promoted Paradise. Coaches continued to go through Mount Shamrock, the town being the primary interchange for Paradise (The Brisbane Courier 7 May 1891). However, Paradise took over many administrative tasks previously performed at Mount Shamrock, including the provision of an electoral station (The Brisbane Courier 23 June 1891). Mount Shamrock police station was also closed in 1891 as the Paradise police station was by then operational and “only eight miles away”. Although some families such as the Mortlemans, Cairns, Korns, Bellarts and Fullers did remain at Mount Shamrock, the school was closed in 1894. Other residents such as Thomas Richards and Fassifern Kent hedged their bets and took up land at Paradise but retained land at Mount Shamrock. The Mount Shamrock mine continued working through this period—fairly successfully in the first years of mining at Paradise— although little gold was produced at Mount Shamrock between 1894 and 1896 (Table 5.3). Nevertheless, the two communities remained closely aligned. Residents at Mount Shamrock travelled to Paradise for dances and social visits, and Paradise residents also visited Mount Shamrock (Bilbrough n.d.). This dislocated community not only facilitated continuing associations while people were absent, but also extended to new mining settlements as they were established, clear connections being maintained between Mount Shamrock, Biggenden, Paradise, Gebangle and Mount Steadman. By the early 1900s many of the residents who had moved to Paradise were returning to Mount Shamrock. Herbert Bayntun had moved to the mines in Paradise in the early 1890s, taking over the lease of Paradise Great Eastern, but by 1902 the family had returned to Mount Shamrock. The Denzlers also returned to Mount Shamrock, taking up a lease on the east side of Didcot Creek. Other people from Paradise such as Learoyd, a former Mine Manager at Paradise, Harman, hotelier turned blacksmith, and William Moore, blacksmith, moved to Mount Shamrock for the first time. There was a degree of “progress” around the area observable in the actions of these new residents, the Berries for example having first moved their hotel from Gebangle to Paradise, then moved the Pioneer Hotel to Mount Shamrock. In some instances, the miners moved while their families stayed behind, but by 1912, the only resident left at Paradise was a miner named Jack Ogle living in a tent (Johns 1892–1942), and the buildings, like their owners, had moved on to other goldfields.

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123

Table 5.3  Gold Production at Mount Shamrock Year 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890 1891 1892 1893/4 1895 1896 1897 1898 1899 1900 1901 1902 1903 1904 1905 1906 1907 1908– 1913 1914 1915 1916 1917 1918 1919– 1932 1933 1934 Total

Ore treated (tons) 8164 3149 5000 3700 5307 1264 292 … 99 60* 575 1833 224

Gold Production (oz) 92 3346 2978

Tailings 11,864 T treated, yielding 8000 oz.

1687 1056 251 … 142 320 122 428 90

… … … … … … … … 107 T treated yielding 7 oz … ? ? 3342 ? ? ? ?

1106 169 810 + 200 97 210 + 4351 93 1561 + 4681 483 1835 + 756 ? 1901 + 2344 ? 1977 + 1280 ? 3580 + 2828 ? No returns available ? 860 400 32 +? 1765 + 1749 493 70 + 610 47 No production No production No returns available 400 421 + 42.5

? 267 109 No production

11 20 + 2 ? 24,516 oz. +? (est. total 37,000 ounces based on revenue of £134,619)

Estimated Value (£) £38,718

£26,520 £14,148 £6740 £878 … £531 £1206 £867 £1732 £395 £707 £961 £5814 £8928 £3332 £5482 £4059 £5785

£2592 £1570 £2949 £463

£42 £200 £134,619

Source: Ball 1901; Dunstan 1911, ARDM 1886–1935 … No returns found * Tributers Yield ? Figures missing from return but production clearly contributed to income (It is difficult to be precise about the quantity of gold produced as Mining Wardens were inconsistent in their publication of returns and returns furnished to the Wardens were not always accurate. The approximate total is based on the overall revenue figures and an average of the gold price from annual returns where production income was listed)

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5  The History of Mount Shamrock: Four Miles from Degilbo Head Station

In its time, Paradise held a prominent position in the mining landscape of the Gayndah district. With an extensive range of businesses including several hotels, the office of the Mining Warden, a court house, school and police station, it was a thriving mining centre. It also had eight claims in operation and a machine area situated in the centre of the town (Prangnell et  al. 2005). However, despite the apparent prosperity of Paradise in comparison to Mount Shamrock, the mines only produced 11,511 ounces of gold in their 11 years of life, less than half that produced at Mount Shamrock in that time. In a manner similar to Mount Shamrock, many of the early claims worked were unsuccessful as only two mines were productive, the others soon being abandoned with little to show for the effort (Prangnell et al. 2005:68). However with high profile investors such as McGhie, through the successful and effective promotion and development of the town, and perhaps even in its romantic nomenclature, Paradise overshadowed Mount Shamrock for much of its existence.

Mining at Mount Shamrock Mount Shamrock, like Paradise, was a hard rock mine however the ore deposit was much more contained. As the richest part of the deposit was in the form of a pipe early extraction was directly from this feature, the shaft widening and descending as the deposit was explored. (This eventually became a glory hole, also called open cut although not in the modern sense of the term.) The approach was based on pursuing a “vein” (as used in the quartz vein deposits of Gympie). A tunnel was cut from the east side of the hill into the mine at approximately 100 feet (approximately 30 m) and a main shaft was gradually created, eventually descending to 450 feet (approximately 140  m) (Ball 1901:6). The atmosphere was very close and miners rigged fans and windsails to ventilate the shafts (The Maryborough Chronicle 12 February 1887). The evidence of mine shafts and tunnels are distributed across the entire hillside of Mount Shamrock. All of the mining remnants at Mount Shamrock are associated with hard rock mining. The main features are the original open cut “glory hole” (Fig. 5.16), the main shaft and the main haul tunnel of the Mount Shamrock mine (Fig. 5.17). Today the underground workings have limited accessibility due to safety constraints however they were described in detail by Ball in 1901. Ball’s drawings show the workings extending approximately 300  feet (91  m) underground. The main shaft goes to a depth of 450 feet (135 m) and links to several adits, the open cut working, which itself is 250 feet (76 m) in depth, and the main haul tunnel and adit (at the 100 foot (30 m) level). There is also evidence of the workings at Kent’s Knob, where an adit is still visible. In addition, a further six shafts and adits, some with associated mullock heaps, were identified (Fig. 4.3). Mining of the hard rock deposit required hand tools such as picks, shovels and drills, and also explosives. Because of the rock type, the mine required little

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125

Fig. 5.16  Mount Shamrock open cut mine showing tunnels heading southwest and east

timbering (Ball 1901; Rands 1890). Once the first stage of mining within the load was advanced, the ore was mined by tunnelling towards the deposit and stoping (removal of ore, leaving behind an open space or stope) when the gold bearing ore was met. When the mine was worked by tribute miners, the ore was handpicked at the face to minimise the amount of gangue material transported and processed (Ball 1901:7). (Tribute miners, rather than being employed directly by a company, made a living by mining the ground themselves with income based on a share of the value of the gold that they won.) Tunnels gradually extended deeper, eventually getting to 300 feet (approximately 91 m). Although the main shaft was fully established by 1892, ore continued to be taken out through the 100 ft. level tunnel (main haul tunnel) to the adit on the eastern side of the hill and hence only limited winding gear

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5  The History of Mount Shamrock: Four Miles from Degilbo Head Station

Fig. 5.17  Main Haul Tunnel heading east into Mount Shamrock

was required (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887). A horse whim originally lifted ore up the main shaft (Rands 1890:6), but later a low poppet head was used. The miners transported the ore from the face to the shaft in “special carriages”, lifted the ore up the shaft in buckets from the working level to the 100 ft. level and from there tipped the ore into “trucks” to run out along tramways to the surface (Ball 1901:8). Some portions of these haul roads are still discernible on the hillside, such as parts of the main haul-way from the 100 ft. tunnel that tracked towards the early battery area for crushing (see Fig. 5.1). The archaeological remnants of the processing areas are also spread across the hillside representing several phases of change and these remnants, more than the mines themselves, speak to the progression and changes to approaches through the life of the gold field. One of the most prominent features on the hillside is a stone

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retort furnace—located near the creek crossing at the base of the hill—at the site of the first battery installed in 1887 (Figs. 5.18 and 5.19). The result of considerable investment in the earliest days of the mine when under the management of Joseph Lalonde, the first processing planes consisted of stamper battery, gravity separation and amalgamation tables. Tooth and Co (The Maryborough Chronicle 27 July 1887) manufactured the first equipment ordered at their Vulcan Foundry in Maryborough in 1886. This was massive investment that in total was valued at £5000, the processing equipment consisted of: a 20 head stamper battery, 4 copper land-tables 24 feet in length, 2 concentrating tables, 48 ft long with 24 ft of blankets on each, a 25hp engine, a direct acting steam pump, with vertical boiler and all other requirements, including a retort plant” (ARDM 1886–1935)

Along with the import of mining equipment and the excavation of ore from the ground, the mining endeavour consumed other natural resources located nearby. A clay source for bricks was found on the flats, local limestone was used for mortar, and timber for the construction of the battery structure and tramway to the mill (Fig. 5.20) was taken from surrounding countryside (The Brisbane Courier February

Fig. 5.18  First battery area with stone retort furnace (Fig. 5.19), rectangular earthworks and associated structural remnants, interpreted as the site of the stamper battery. There are also indications of a building suggested as the Mine Manager’s house in archival evidence

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Fig. 5.19  Retorting Furnace near location of first stamper battery

1887). Timber required for the boilers was collected from nearby and stockpiled for drying. As Joseph Lalonde reported: Large stocks of firewood are at hand drying, ready for stoking the “furnace”. The heavy requirement of timber for the battery, dam, tramway, etc, has kept all the sawyers and drawers of wood busy, and yet the demand exceeds the supply. All the timber for the tramway which is to connect the mine with the battery is on the ground (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887).

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Fig. 5.20  Tramline to Mount Shamrock Mill (Photo courtesy of Biggenden Historical Society)

The stockpiling of timber therefore necessitated the provision of a timber stacking area near the boilers. As the mine continued operating, the sawyers went further afield to source timber, and by 1898, timber stacks for the boiler lined the road from Degilbo (The Brisbane Courier 21 Feb 1898). Efforts to ensure a regular water supply included the provision of a dam constructed in Didcot Creek under the direction of Lalonde: The effect will not only be to supply an inexhaustible supply of water for the battery, but to back up the water in the creek for about half a mile and thus ensure a certain supply of good water for the township all year round ... The general usefulness of this dam suggests that our divisional boards might well spend a few pounds in damming creeks in frequented localities an so secure a water supply in periods of drought (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887).

This served to provide a fairly reliable source of water from the creek that buffered operations from short dry spells. It was however not adequate for prolonged periods of drought when the plant was forced to shut down for lack of water. By the early 1890s, under the management of James Higgins, additional grinding equipment and gravity separation concentrators had been brought in and additional roasting facilities, assay office and a chlorination plant had been installed to treat the ore, although only elements identifiable archaeologically are of the roasting furnace flue associated with the retort furnace and the assay office. (Substantial earthworks have been carried out in the second part of the twentieth century across several parts of the hillside to construct drill pads, new roadways and a large dam.

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This has resulted in the removal of the original surface at the mine head, partial burial of stamper foundations and the destruction of chlorination tank remnants and a well. A square brick foundation to the southeast of remnants of an ancillary building may be the only remaining foundation for chlorination vats.) Over the next 10 years of operation, the mine variously ran on rotating shifts, operated under tribute and closed due to lack of capital and lack of water (Loyau 1897; QGMJ 1901; Towner 1896). In 1902, following on from a period of production via tribute miners, and the installation of cyanide tanks, there was a major investment, including a boiler, a ten-head stamper battery, Wilfley tables, and a ball mill, located close to the main shaft of the mine (Vaughan 1902, 1903). These improvements in processing technologies happened in parallel with the return of residents to Mount Shamrock and a resurgence of the school population. The remnants of this phase are the most substantial remaining on the hill and represent part of a third phase of mineral processing at Mount Shamrock (Fig. 5.21). These include foundations for a steam powered engine, substantial foundations for crushing and milling and wooden foundations of equipment for gravity separation and concentration, together with remnants of the building that housed the equipment, and a Cornish boiler (Fig.  5.22). There are also two large round concrete cyanide tanks, together with an associated feed tank and a smaller boiler. A number of pieces of metal components related to this machine area are scattered around this location. Within the upper processing area, the relationship between each component further explains the configuration and operating conditions within the building. The boiler supplied steam to the nearby engine. The steam engine directly powered the stamper, the Huntingdon mill and the concentrator tables through drive shafts and secondary overhead drives and pulleys whose location were indicated by features on the remnant upright poles. The importance of the slope to gravity flow operations is also demonstrated by the relative position of features. The cyanide process, for example, uses the fall between the feeder tank and each tank for the flow of pulp, as can be seen from the side elevation in Fig. 5.21. The structural remnants of several buildings were identified, some directly associated with the processing remnants, including the Assay Office and Store. The Assay Office featured small furnaces together with remnants of crucibles and laboratory glass, confirming the purpose of the space. There were also remnant track-­ ways which in some cases are clearly attributable to specific features, although difficulties were encountered assigning temporal order to most tracks, particularly as a result of recent earthworks, including destruction of the haul-way from the main shaft to the stamper battery, used for hauling ore in the later phase of the operation. The provision of water and the inherent difficulties associated with the supply of water up to the processing area at the top of the hillside are also highlighted by examining the distribution of the features within the landscape. One 40 head stamper and associated mill required up to 10,000 gallons per hour to operate (Eissler

Fig. 5.21  Remnants in Upper Industrial area—Plan drawing and section A-A (facing north). These are the most substantial extant remains at Mount Shamrock. These are located on the hillside southeast of the main shaft. (See Appendix B for details of Feature numbers [F11a,b etc])

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Fig. 5.22  Cornish Boiler, located in upper processing area at Mount Shamrock

1900:111). The original dam and well were located in proximity to the crossing on Didcot Creek at the base of the hill. Evidence for the disposal and/or stockpiling of tailings is also important in understanding processing methods and the overall flow of material. Most ore was treated wet and so the deposition of tailings provides information about the drainage of wastewater. Finally, the nature and location of processing equipment has implications for the conditions for people working at the mine (see Chap. 8). Mining continued using the same methods over the life of Mount Shamrock; however there were differing amounts of production, exploration and development work through time. In addition to periods of productive operations based on company organisation, at times the mine operated on dead-work (removing overburden and driving tunnels), and at other was operated independently on a small scale by individual groups of miners. Overall, however, the mine was reasonably productive. Over the duration of operations at Mount Shamrock produced approximately 37,000 ounces of gold (Table 5.3). Returns show that Mount Shamrock was almost an order of magnitude smaller than Charters Towers, Gympie and the Palmer (Table 5.4).

The Rise and Fall of Mount Shamrock Despite an apparently high profile in the newspapers, after a first frenzy of pegging ground many of the early claims at Mount Shamrock proved unprofitable. Mining gradually focused almost entirely on the original Prospectors Claim; the

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Table 5.4  Comparative Gold Production for Gympie, Charters Towers, Palmer River and Mount Shamrock Town Gympie Charters towers Palmer River Mount Shamrock

Period 1877–1882 1878–1882 1878–1882 1886–1934

Gold production (oz) 239,896 295,881 89,364a 37,000b

This does not include figures when the Palmer River was at its zenith. Estimates of up to 1,200,000 oz. have been made (Comber 1995) b Mount Shamrock production figures are across the life of the mine and are an estimate based on average gold prices, calculated from returns

a

shareholders renamed the company as the Mount Shamrock Gold Mining Company and put the company up for sale in Britain. The result of this was that the company operated for some time under a British board of directors. The mine closed several times in the 1890s due to both financial difficulties (The Maryborough Chronicle 2 Nov 1897) and the absence of the, by then, sole British owner (Ball 1901:4). By the last years of the 1890s, the mine at Mount Shamrock was again working five shifts, although this was by no means consistent, the mine often “compelled to close” (QGMJ 1900:48) as a result of lack of capital or lack of water. During the 1890s and the 1910s, the mine was partly developed by tribute miners. The ore from these activities was generally sent to Aldershot, just outside Maryborough, for treatment. In 1901 tribute miners installed cyanide tanks for the treatment of tailings (ARDM 1886–1935:100). Shortly after this, in 1902, there was another investment of capital with machinery and a cyanide plant erected (ARDM 1886–1935:96). Around this time, a number of original families returning to Mount Shamrock claimed Miners Homestead Leases. According to the Mining Warden at that time, these leases were being claimed “by miners and business people, who hitherto had no title nor paid any rent for the ground they occupied” (ARDM 1886–1935:96), indicating the presence of established dwellings not controlled under legislative frameworks. School enrolments also increased, returning to more than 50 children in 1905, as Mount Shamrock again became a thriving mining centre (QSA 10341). After being overlooked due to the “unproven” nature of the deposit, and having been mined much longer than many other local deposits, the Goldfield of Mount Shamrock was eventually gazetted in 1905 (Dunstan 1911). From 1900 to 1913, the Mount Shamrock mine remained the mainstay of the community, although three other leases were worked intermittently (ARDM 1886–1935). At the same time, the district around Mount Shamrock was in straitened circumstances, the Federation Drought causing a great deal of hardship in the agricultural activities. Farmers regularly applied to the mine for employment, and the construction of a railway extension to Gayndah was again raised, this time as a means of providing employment for those in need (The Maryborough Chronicle 5 December 1902). Rail plans had been agitated for from the earliest days of Mount Shamrock

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Fig. 5.23  Deep Creek or Chowey Railway Bridge under construction, 1905 (John Oxley Library, Image No API-073-0001-0008)

(The Maryborough Chronicle 30 July 1886) and presented to State Premier Sir Samuel Griffith and his representatives on his tour of the Maryborough district in 1887 (The Brisbane Courier 19 December 1887) and to the Railways Minister in 1888 (The Brisbane Courier 24 December 1888). The rail line was seen as particularly desirable for the transportation of supplies to the mines and concentrate from the mines to Aldershot and Brisbane. As a result of the inaction of the government, active committees were established in 1902 to promote the need for a rail line for both mining and agriculture (The Maryborough Chronicle 10 June 1902). Ironically, having campaigned for some time on the advantages of a rail link to the goldfields of Mount Shamrock and Paradise, the rail line came too late for Paradise, already in decline by that time. It was instead depressed economic conditions that appear to have finally influenced the decision to proceed with the line. The Chowey Railway Bridge (Fig.  5.23) was constructed in 1905 and the line extended to Gayndah in 1907 (Maryborough Wide Bay and Burnett Historical Society 1976:19). The advent of the railway line meant that travel was much easier, and a railway station at Chowey provided connections to Maryborough, Gympie and on to Brisbane (Johns 1892–1942). While mining continued in the newly gazetted Mount Shamrock Goldfield, the township itself was not gazetted until 1914 (Fig.  5.24). Although the school population began to declined soon after, in 1914 there were

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Fig. 5.24  Proposed Town reserve, situated within Goldfield reserve, as recommended by Mining Warden in 1914 (QSA 275198)

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Fig. 5.25  Mount Shamrock township 1930s. (Photo courtesy of Biggenden Historical Society)

still over 40 students in attendance. The town was surveyed around this time and the mine was again being worked (ARDM 1886–1935). The political, economic and even global context by that time was very different to the 1880s when mining had first begun. The commencement of the Great War meant that many men were no longer available and the emphasis in Queensland on mining gold declined, turning instead to coal. Gold output as a whole fell off and by 1917 the Mount Shamrock mine was again not operating (ARDM 1886–1935). It reopened in 1918 with the aid of subsidies from the Mines Department (ARDM 1886–1935), although by that time, the occupation of many of the original miners was noted as dairymen (Pugh’s Almanac 1918: 725). By the end of 1926, many homesteads had been forfeited and enrolments in the school had fallen to 17. The mine remained largely inactive from the 1920s until 1933, at which time another cyaniding venture began (ARDM 1886–1935:104). This venture was organised by long term residents of the community who had continued small scale tribute work on the mine through the intervening years. A set of concrete tanks located in the eastern part of the industrial area on the banks of Didcot Creek (but downstream from the township) are the remnants for this phase

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of the cyanide treatment of tailings. The remnants consist of tanks, earthworks, and structural features indicating the location of the buildings associated with the cyanide tanks. As for the remnants in the upper industrial area, the relationship between tanks and the boiler and the proximity of workings to both the creek and the tailings stockpile illuminates the flow of the process and also suggests the attitude of miners to the environmental effects of the process. In particular the basic nature of the treatment indicates at best rudimentary temperature control, flow and chemical balance for the process; and the lack of mechanical intervention necessitated a relatively small-scale batch process that required physical manual effort for precipitation and the removal of sludge. As a result of the resurgence of productivity on the back of the treatment of tailings, the mine was quickly sold to a Sydney consortium (Courier Mail 26 October 1933). However it was the last gasp for the mine and the town. Mining ceased in the first half of 1935 (ARDM 1886–1935:110) and the school finally closed the same year, marking the end of the township (Fig. 5.25). By then there were only 11 children in attendance at the school, most coming from local farms and nearby communities. As the town waned, occupants moved with their houses to agricultural leases around the area or to nearby settlements, and the school building was relocated to Biggenden. A blacksmith shop and a cattle dip, established in the latter part of the town’s life, continued in use into the 1950s but the site gradually returned to use as pastoral land.

Summary In the florescence of mining activity from the 1870s to the 1890s in the Upper Burnett, the whole gamut of mining landscapes was present—a company town in Mount Perry, rushes to hard rock mines at Eidsvold and alluvial rushes at Cania, and small scale diggings radiating out from major mining centres. Mount Shamrock was an integral part of this larger network of mining fields and in the early days after its discovery was regarded as a central place for mining in that area. The subsequent discoveries at Eidsvold and Paradise eclipsed the activities at Mount Shamrock however the township continued to play a role in the public mind as a prominent gold field, restrained by financial problems and poor management. Established quickly and remaining settled for over 50 years, the population of Mount Shamrock constituted a community of mining which was associated beyond one place by spheres of activity. Links with administrators such as magistrates, police, educators and mining wardens created connections to the broader social landscape of Queensland, as did the reputation of the Mount Shamrock mine on the wider economic stage. The community itself extended to other settlements, most particularly nearby Paradise. By the early 1910s, gold mining had all but disappeared in the area, only reappearing in times of financial hardship as tribute miners

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and small-scale venturers tried to find economic relief. Through all these events, the quest for land was paramount, underwriting a desire to settle and access a living. The residents of Mount Shamrock built a township, developed social structures related to religion, education and recreation. Although disappearing as a township by the 1930s, the community associated with the mining town has continued through to the present day largely engaged through agricultural leases, and demonstrating an enduring connection with the landscape.

References Annual Report Department of Mines 1886–1935. Queensland Government Printer: Brisbane. Ball, L.C. 1901. Stanton-Harcourt diggings and the mount shamrock mine. Queensland Geological Survey, Publication 169. Bilbrough, E. n.d. An extract from the diary of Elsie Bilbrough: First teacher at Mount Shamrock, 1890–1892. Unpublished manuscript held by the Biggenden Historical Society. Census of the colony of Queensland. Published report from the Registrar-General’s Office, 1891 Brisbane: Govt. Print. Comber, J. 1995. The Palmer Goldfield. Australasian Historical Archaeology 13: 41–48. Dunstan, B. 1911. Geological survey reports. Queensland Government Mining Journal 12: 169–173. Eissler, M. 1900. The metallurgy of gold. A practical treatise on the metallurgical treatment of gold-bearing ores including the assaying, melting, and refining of gold. London: Crosby Lockwood and Sons. Johns, H.W. 1892–1942. Harry Winefred Johns papers. Brisbane: John Oxley Library. Lawrence, S. 1998. Gender and community structure on Australian colonial goldfields. In Social approaches to an industrial past: The archaeology and anthropology of mining, ed. V.C. Pigott, A.B. Knapp, and E.W. Herbert, 39–58. London: Routledge. Loyau, G.E. 1897. The history of Maryborough and Wide Bay and Burnett districts from the year 1850 to 1895. Brisbane: Pole, Outridge. Maryborough Wide Bay and Burnett Historical Society. 1976. A history of Maryborough, 1842–1976. Maryborough: The Society. Prangnell, J., L. Cheshire, and K. Quirk. 2005. Paradise: Life on a Queensland goldfield. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Archaeological Services Unit. Pugh, T.P. 1918. Pugh’s official Queensland almanac. Brisbane: Directory and Gazetteer. QGG. 1887. Queensland Government Gazette, 1887. Brisbane: Government Printer. QGMJ. 1900. Queensland Government Mining Journal, Vol. 1, 1901. Queensland Department of Mines. ———. 1901. Queensland Government Mining Journal, Vol. 2, October 1901. Queensland Department of Mines. Quirk, K. 2007 The Victorians in ‘Paradise’: Gentility as social strategy in the archaeology of colonial Australia. Unpublished PhD thesis, School of Social Science, University of Queensland, Brisbane. Rands, W.H. 1886. Report on the gold and silver deposits in the neighbourhood of Mount Shamrock. Geological Survey of Queensland Publication 25. ———. 1890. Mount Biggenden bismuth mine, Gebangle, and the Mount Shamrock mine. Geological Survey of Queensland Publication 60.

References

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Towner, L.D. 1896. Paradise, mount shamrock and mount Steadman fields. Annual Report for the Department of Mines 1896: 84–85. Vaughan, F. 1902. Paradise, Mount Shamrock and Mount Steadman fields. Annual Report for the Department of Mines 1902: 96. ———. 1903. Paradise, Mount Shamrock and Mount Steadman fields. Annual Report for the Department of Mines 1903: 95.

Chapter 6

The Landscape of Mount Shamrock: A “Settled and Business Like Aspect”

The landscape of Mount Shamrock in the nineteenth century was definitively a mining landscape. It was the primary context for the residents, influencing their everyday experiences and was understood and perceived as such. The actions of the residents constructed and reaffirmed the landscape in its context. However, in contrast to recurrent stereotypes of mining towns as male dominated, rough, temporary and uncivilised settlements, Mount Shamrock was a more nuanced and multifaceted place with a range of social identities. In this chapter, the cultural landscape of Mount Shamrock is explored. Social mobility, identity constructed through material culture, and social structuring of space are all used to illustrate the way nineteenth century people in the mining towns of the Upper Burnett constructed meaning and represented cultural values in the gold-mining landscape in which they lived—and to explore what these meanings may have been. The canvas township of Mount Shamrock has now assumed a settled and business-like aspect, and at the present time has a population of about one hundred. (The Maryborough Chronicle 12 Feb 1887)

Archaeological evidence and historical data allow us to understand more about the way the landscape of the township was constructed and how people lived in their landscape. The residents created a discourse of identity, and the evidence reveals the diversity of roles they played, and how they understood and operated in the context in which they lived. The social landscape of mining towns had some degree of fluidity, and included in some ways those disenfranchised from colonial society. Spatial structuring in the landscape was used to project a discourse of identity, including elements of inclusion and exclusion. To this end, this chapter examines the way the town was laid out, the access to land that residents had and what both land access and spatial layout meant in the transmission of social identity. The landscape of Mount Shamrock was enacted across different scales, and the analysis recognises that these accommodations were also played out in relation to the overarching frameworks of late nineteenth-century society in Queensland. The events at Mount

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Shamrock can therefore be understood in the context of colonial economics, government policy, mining knowledge and the social imperatives of the time.

Social Construction of Identity The social landscape of Mount Shamrock was more complex than a one-­dimensional picture of a mining town, inhabited by miners. Although the documentary, particularly archival, evidence is predominantly by men about men, the diary of Elsie Bilbrough provides a female perspective and indicates a social landscape that women created and encountered. Women also feature in newspaper accounts (even though those accounts appear to have been written by men), and archaeological evidence across Mount Shamrock indicates the presence of men, women and children. Domestic ceramics, metal remnants of household trappings and male and female apparel, tools and toys distributed across the township of Mount Shamrock are typical of nineteenth century domestic and residential material culture. These belongings were used to formulate and project collective and individual social identity and to facilitate social mobility. Access to land and the act of enclosure in the structuring of the landscape also played a role in articulating social identity, as did the networks of relationships across the region, revealed in the use of land. In particular the structuring of landscape, though the selection and enclosure of property, the construction of dwellings and the use of architectural fixtures and accessories, contributed to projections of identity. The frameworks of the overarching colonial structure—principally through legislated controls on mining and requirements for access to land and miners’ rights—and representations of activities presented in the media were external factors in the construction of identity. The people of Mount Shamrock identified themselves as a mining community, and the context of the mining locality they lived in contributed to the social, and to some degree geographic, mobility of the community.

Social Landscape Although Mount Shamrock was a mining town, it was not just a place of mining and there was a variety of occupations present not directly associated with mining. Demographically, women and children made up 55% of the population. This resulted in a complex combination of social identities and interactions, affected by background, occupation and access to income. Previous models of class and status in colonial Queensland have postulated that mine managers were seen as a lower tier of the upper class in colonial society, while successful business people were considered middle class “petit bourgeoisie”. Miners were seen as occupying the first or top tier of the working class, as they were

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primarily British or European, were labourers and employers and possessed a range of skills (Thorpe 1996: 146–9). However the internal hierarchies of Mount Shamrock and the broader social structures of the Upper Burnett district suggest less structured, more flexible levels of status. Most people at Mount Shamrock were working class or middle class, although there was not only a broad internal hierarchy, but also frequent movement between different levels of status within the social structure, together with social interactions which on the surface permeated across boundaries of class. Newspaper accounts of social activities in the town suggests that investors, mine owners and the Mining Warden, most of whom visited rather than settled in the town, were at the top of the hierarchy (e.g. The Wide Bay and Burnett News 6 October 1888). Within the township, investors and owners held other occupations such as in business, while other mine “owners” were themselves miners. Fassifern Kent for example, the owner of the mining lease known as Kent’s Knob, continued to mine rather than employ a manager. Nevertheless, his status was perceived in terms of ownership rather than mining, as was recognised in his elevation to Magistrate at Paradise. The mine owners, mine managers and business people all took part in the same activities, and made up an amorphous higher status group within the town. This group included residents such as Mortleman, Cairns, Higgins, Lalonde, Furlong, Parry and later Berrie. A lower tier appears to have been miners, working for wages or on tribute. However, a number of miners went on to become mine managers or “owners” with controlling interests in mining leases, while others, such as Tweed, took up businesses. Further, while carters and timber cutters could be regarded as on the lowest rung of a hierarchy of status, they also interacted socially with the miners; a number of miners took alternative employment carting and cutting timber and business people often also ran carts. Although the social divisions were not altogether clear cut, there was nevertheless a perceptible hierarchy guided by shared norms at Mount Shamrock. While status based on male occupation extended to the wives and children of the men concerned, in some instances the women also contributed to the family’s social identity. Women worked within the community, as teachers, storekeepers, midwives and seamstresses. Mrs. Burns and Mrs. Boden, as business people, were part of the higher-status group. The school teacher Elsie Bilbrough also fitted into this tableau, interacting with a number of the business people in town, as well as the family of Joseph Lalonde, mine manager. The Lalonde sisters, renowned for their skills on the piano, further contributed to the perceived status of their family (for example see The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887). The relationships between different groups associated by links of family or friendship formed an additional social structure that appears to have occurred within the hierarchical framework. Networks within a particular social status are identifiable from the archival and oral histories. Families of miners and carters married each other. For instance, Herb Bayntun, miner, married Bertha Denzler, daughter of teamster John Denzler, Horace Bayntun married Hester Bow, daughter of Fredrick Bow, miner, and Lavidia Bayntun married Bob Doyle, miner (Ann Bayntun, researcher, Bayntun family history, pers. comm. 22/7/2006). Similarly, members of

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business families intermarried. For example, Maud Korn, daughter of butcher Fred Korn married Norman Berrie, son of Thomas Berrie, publican (Robert Berrie, son of Norman Berrie, pers. comm. 3/2006). These relationships were embedded in the landscape; people within kinship networks often chose to live in close proximity (Fig. 6.1). Friendships were also written in the landscape, with the Welsh miners Williams and Parry living as neighbours throughout their life at Mount Shamrock. These networks also extended to the industrial context, as will be explored later, influencing the grouping of syndicates in the early claims, and the alliances working the mine on tribute. Membership of the school council, and other activities associated with social status appear to have been partly motivated by manipulation or construction of social identity, a form of self-promotion through which individuals strived by their behaviour to alter their perceived class. For example, active participation in the governance of the school may have been seen as a form of conformance to cultural standards, part of the rules of society for those of a higher status; a community had

Fig. 6.1  Town Plan showing adjacent dwellings within family and fictive kin groups

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a school and one had to actively participate in that endeavour. Other elements of the conduct of residents suggest a desire to promote a civilised appearance for the town, a desirable and settled place, through activities such as the organisation of committees for reading rooms, the participation in colonial celebration such as Arbour Day, and formation of temperance societies. Ideas about “proper accommodations”, such as those provided in the parlour of Hugh Cairns’ hotel (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887), were readily expressed and illustrate not only the promotion of a settled appearance but also the desire of residents to put down roots and establish themselves in a particular class. In contrast, the range of less-acceptable behaviours exhibited by some townspeople suggests that context and location are important factors in social practices. In a gold-mining town less respectable actions were tolerated; laxer personal arrangements continued, and even those in the temperance league were inebriated from time to time (Bilbrough n.d.). Further, although there was a picture of increasing permanence and “proper-ness” of houses, bark huts were still in evidence in 1891, 5 years into the life of the settlement, and across the township there was a range of dwelling types, as will be discussed shortly. There was also a degree of poverty present on the goldfield, even though there was access to a number of employment options. When mines closed under exemption, miners were forced to seek a range of alternative employment strategies and families faced financial hardship. In 1902 when provision of a railway was again being touted, one of the arguments from Mount Shamrock was the economic relief that would be provided by railway construction for “those who are unfortunately suffering, in consequence of the very severe drought” (The Maryborough Chronicle 10 June 1902). Despite these hardships, residents displayed a degree of stability and comfort in the domestic/household material culture they used.

Domestic/Household Material Culture and Social Identity The artefacts located in the survey of Mount Shamrock are largely fragmented and widely distributed. Sneddon (2006:4–5) has argued for interpretations that go beyond equating an archaeological record dominated by low-grade and broken items with direct evidence for poverty. As Sneddon (2006:5) pointed out, the curation of assemblages as people leave a settlement results in an “impoverished” picture of the artefacts—impoverished in the sense of a reduced archaeological record—that can be (mis)interpreted as evidence for an impoverished existence (see also Tomka 1993). At Mount Shamrock, the distribution and nature of the assemblages in the archaeological record were the result of residents leaving in a planned manner, taking not only personal belongings and functional objects but the buildings as well. The archaeological record consists of those items left behind because they were of no further use, were broken or discarded, or too difficult to remove. Despite the fragmented assemblage at Mount Shamrock, the range of artefacts with a household function encompasses a variety of material culture indicating a far

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from impoverished existence. In addition to domestic artefacts associated with food, remnants include objects for hygiene (such as combs, dental care and cosmetic jars) and recreation (including smoking and writing implements and musical instruments). Ceramics associated with storage and consumption of food and drink include the poorer-quality functional blue-banded ware together with more finely patterned transfer prints, raised decorated tableware, and a range of painted porcelain and porcelain/bone-china tea cups, saucers and egg cups (Fig. 6.2). While it may not be possible to argue class differences based on the range of ceramics present, particularly as bone china/porcelain was readily available and relatively cheap in Australia in the nineteenth century (see Brooks (2005:62–63), Crooks (2011) and Hayes (2019) for discussion on this), this range of artefacts does represent the aspirational activities of the residents of the town, projecting a particular social identity. The range of patterns and colours, the presence of a variety of vessels, together with the fineness of execution of some of the transfer prints, signify a degree of attention to presenting a good table. It is certainly evidence of a more proper and comfortable life than that portrayed by narratives of gold-mining

Fig. 6.2  Ceramic artefacts: (a) Blue Banded; (b–d) decorative transfer printed; (e) porcelain / bone china cup; (f) raised moulded decoration; (g) painted porcelain; (h) porcelain / bone china egg cup

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shacks furnished with only tin plates and billy cans. These may well have been present but being robust are less likely to have broken and found their way into the archaeological record. Other artefacts found that contribute to the picture of more settled and comfortable domestic lives include decorative furniture and glassware. Quirk (2007) has argued that residents of the nearby mining town of Paradise, many of whom were at different times also residents of Mount Shamrock, made choices that exhibited varying degrees of engagement with aspects of gentility and used particular strategies for projecting social identity. These included private performances that encompassed home decoration and attitudes to consumption of alcohol and smoking, together with public performances including use of ceramics and presentation through apparel (Quirk 2007:290–293). At Mount Shamrock, even in the earliest days, there was similarly active participation in the expression of social identity through both the use of material culture and the activities undertaken by the residents. Pastimes for men and women alike included reading, sewing, letter writing, composition of poetry, and musical evenings, and, for children, attendance at school and Sunday School. Residents also actively participated in the governance of the school and some were members of the Temperance Society (Bilbrough n.d.) Temperance. Societies promoted Victorian ideals of restraint and discouraged consumption of alcohol (Quirk 2004). The presence of a temperance group in Mount Shamrock would certainly have been an ambitious endeavour in a mining town. It indicates an interest, by some of the residents at least, in following a respectable way of life, particularly given that clergymen were not permanently present. Less respectable behaviour is visible as well, with archaeological remnants of alcohol consumption and smoking particularly prevalent. The realities of poverty, common-law relationships, domestic violence and excessive alcohol consumption were present, with accounts in newspapers and court archives highlighting less acceptable and at times criminal conduct. In the social landscape of Mount Shamrock therefore, the rhetoric of a wild mining town weighs against assertions of gentility and elevated status, and behaviours at both extremes rested in tension. In addition to everyday domestic material culture, one of the clearest social indicators available from the archaeology of Mount Shamrock is the size and location of buildings. In Australia, miners’ houses, although diverse in form and material, were most commonly made of timber frames with sawn timber and later iron-­ cladding Bell (1998: 31–33). Meanwhile, the size of houses, their locations and the general configuration of settlements varied as a result of design processes, climate and the context of the settlement. Burke (1999) has suggested that the location of residences in the landscape reflect status and that stylistic architectural decorations are used in construction of identity. In an indication that these phenomena to some extent transcend time and cultures, Kirch and Kahn (2007) investigating Polynesian pre-history also argued that correlation between house forms, house size, number and type of ancillary structures, and architectural elaboration are indicators of status, while Newman (2017), studying Haciendas in Mexico, argues that the architecture served to project status, and controlled and shaped behaviours. At Mount Shamrock, the material used for permanent structures is consistent with Bell’s typical miner’s cottage, namely predominantly wooden structures with

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iron or shingle roofs. Archaeological evidence shows brick was used for some flooring or paving but was mainly present in fireplaces. There is evidence that highlights some differences in the quality of building materials and house form through time. Tents and bark humpies were used before permanent houses were established. There was little archaeological evidence for these although some canvas eyelets were found. Early photographs show small, rough-hewn bark humpies with shingle or bark roofs while later photographs show more timber cladding, together with corrugated iron roofs. However even in the 1900s some bark humpies were still evident. The dominant house form was single storey, timber construction, generally mounted on timber stumps, although there was considerable variability in the style of dwellings, with miner Pierce Williams cottage extending to perhaps 8x4m, constructed with a brick floor directly on the ground, contrasted with K. Campbell’s six room house with veranda on stumps, with an ancillary metal clad cowshed and fowl house. Larger public buildings such as Berrie’s Hotel (Fig. 6.3) and the Assembly Room reflected the nature of buildings catering for groups of people. The differences in the size of domestic residential structures suggest some differences in the status of the residents. For example, the mine manager Parry’s house was much larger than lower status dwellings, such as that of their neighbour, miner Pierce Williams.

Fig. 6.3  Berrie’s Hotel, c 1905 (John Oxley Library, Image No 21594)

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Ancillary structures in the town included outhouses, tank stands, chicken coops, cow sheds and stables. These were associated with functional activities and do not appear to have supported constructions of status. In contrast, architectural elaborations identified archaeologically, including plaster decorations, ornate fire-place components, cast iron decorations and pressed-metal ceiling decorations, along with external decorations, such as timber cladding, painting, ornate veranda structures, picket fences and gardens, may be indicators of status. Although there was a considerable amount of metal sheeting distributed across the town, with evidence that kerosene tins were used for cladding, from photographs it appears this was particularly on ancillary buildings. Post and wire fences identified were predominantly associated with functional structures including businesses and the school, and lower-status dwellings, including that of Granny Bayntun. Longer-term settled dwellings had evidence of picket fences. Gardens featured both functional vegetation such as fruit trees and decorative plants including jasmine, palms and rose bushes. Decorative picket fences and ornamental trees served to meet the desire to project both a settled and civilised appearance. While striving to fit within both societal conventions regarding appropriate presentation and governmental frameworks, decisions about the selection of particular plots of land and the location of houses within individual leases are indicators of individual agency. The location and orientation of individual houses on each lease varied as did the presence and location of ancillary buildings. Within the streetscape houses faced the main street but were set at different distances from the roadway, another matter of individual choice (Fig.  6.4). However businesses were located right on the boundary of the leasehold and the roadway, perhaps a social convention. Homestead Leases were effectively personal spaces bounded by fences. Access to property was somewhat limited by fencing but it was as much symbolic—delineating space and marking boundaries—as a practical improvement. Nevertheless, verandas may have constituted social space as visiting was a common occurrence. In contrast, the interiors of houses can be considered to have been intimate space, where entrance was through invitation. Hotels, as well as the functional spaces of work places, roadways and the school made up public space. In these spaces access was less restricted and many people made use of these areas. Roadways in particular were not just transport routes but were used for recreational activities such as evening strolls. Although the mine was also a destination for occasional recreational visits, it was nevertheless a somewhat restricted area, being a predominantly male space. Women instead made use of shops, rather than the hotels, as public spaces, often meeting and socialising at various businesses in the evenings (Bilbrough n.d.). Communication of social identity through landscape was achieved through the use of residential architecture and the material culture of those structures and their features and fittings. The relative size of dwellings and the presentation of gardens contributed further to these projections. The articulation of identity was a reflexive notion—a self-fulfilling prophecy of “this is how I present myself” and in turn understanding identity from these projections. By constructing residences that symbolised a particular status, residents were then able to conform to, affirm or assume that status. As will be explored shortly, the access to income and land associated

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Fig. 6.4  Mount Shamrock views 1909, Bayntun brothers’ residence on left (arrow), Harman’s Blacksmith in centre and cottage on right (not under lease). Occupied at different times by Mann’s, Baker’s and Denzler’s (John Oxley Library, Image No 101262)

with mining towns and the provision of Homestead Leases was another critical component in the social status of residents at Mount Shamrock, providing a means for enacting social mobility.

Social Mobility The residents of Mount Shamrock were motivated at least in part by one element of the meta-narrative of nineteenth century gold mining: the idea of making a fortune on the goldfields. Some miners rushed to each new find and pegged claims with the hope of improving their economic situation while others capitalised on the market economy, using the stock market and company law to profit from what might not have been such a lucrative field. In the early rush at Mount Shamrock, several prospectors amalgamated claims and within 12 months some speculators had extracted over 3000 ounces of gold. One group formed a company with an estimated value of £300,000, which they proceeded to attempt to sell on the international market. This

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was a facet of nineteenth-century mining in Queensland—the proliferation of capitalist venturers and speculators. Few of the early prospectors remained as long-term residents. Instead the miners who worked for the venture companies stayed, presumably happy to earn wages. There were also times when company operations closed and tribute miners took out leases, providing the opportunity for individual gain. Gold mining was not the only way for residents to better themselves financially. Men and women who brought businesses to the goldfield could make a profit in a captive market. Furthermore, business owners in a number of mining towns in the Upper Burnett, such as the Berries at Paradise and Williams and Clewley at Monal, supported miners by extending credit and underwriting mining operations. At times this resulted in business owners such as Berrie at Paradise and Clewley at Monal becoming proprietors of mines. There was also the chance of making, if not a fortune, then an improvement in a family’s standing through opportunities for work and access to land that a new mining town might present. Upward mobility was feasible in this environment. As discussed earlier, Knapp (1998:4) has suggested that geographic mobility was common, but social mobility was rare in nineteenth-century mining towns. The concept of little social mobility is in direct contrast to the propaganda-based accounts of making a fortune in gold mining, accounts which drew people to the goldfields. Ideas about social mobility facilitated by gold mining meant people’s behaviour differed from the expected conduct of typical “working class” miners. Certainly documentary evidence shows that as people moved from town to town around Mount Shamrock, they had (and often used) the opportunity to effect some change in their social standing. Some of these changes are observable over the course of the history of Mount Shamrock. Miners such as William Parry and Fredrick Learoyd became managers, tribute miners became capitalist venturers, business men such as Hugh Cairns became miners and mine-owners, and miners such as William Tweed became business people. Storekeepers continued to make a living even when mining was depressed and many of the residents of Mount Shamrock became small landholders. Instances of determined culture contact have been pointed out as potentially being “significant watersheds in reshaping cultural orders since they provide individuals from all walks of life with new opportunities to negotiate and redefine their social identities in the process of daily activities” (Lightfoot et  al. 1998:202). Although this assertion was made in the context of interaction between different cultures, it can be equally as true of people moving to newly-settled places. People arriving in new mining townships, some of which were frontier towns, had the opportunity to “negotiate and redefine their social identities”. This would have been possible with respect to status, occupation and wealth (or are at least the opportunity to accrue wealth): in short, a re-invention of self. Access to land in particular, through the provision of homestead leases, facilitated this negotiation. The material culture used in these households, both domestic and residential, also added to the construction of identity. The use and display of domestic belongings that indicated a status above that of itinerant miner could have been used in the process of

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redefining identity at a higher social status on a daily basis, through the intentional and active participation of the residents of Mount Shamrock in negotiations not only of social identity in the settlement but also across wider societal frameworks.

Structuring of Space Although occupied into the twentieth century, Mount Shamrock itself was initially located and structured in the nineteenth century, and consciously or not, the residents creating the structure of the landscapes followed the rules of society at that time. There were several elements in the structuring of space that reflected social organisation both within the town and more broadly and some degree of that structuring is identifiable in the landscape. These included defined areas of activity such as mining, residential and business areas, and areas for more distasteful activities. Limitations of access were also enacted through the parcelling of land (the virtual portioning of land and physical fencing limiting the access of people other than the land owners), and may have in part been influenced by ethnicity or status of those “others”. Settlements associated with the procurement of natural resources must be located in proximity to those resources. Consequently, the primary motivator for settlement at Mount Shamrock was the presence of the mineral deposit. The town’s first tents and humpies were located relatively near the mines. Proximity to water was also an important consideration. Dwellings were therefore distributed on the flats on both sides of Didcot Creek, extending south on the western side of the creek. As the town became more settled, permanent dwellings were principally established on the western side of the creek. Although Mining Warden Edmund Craven was credited with selecting the location of the town in 1887 (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887), the area already contained camp sites and established businesses by that time, and residents had constructed buildings. Suitable topography in close proximity to the mine however cannot have been the only factor in the selection of the residential area. Despite the existence of suitable ground on the creek flats at the eastern base of the mine hill, people elected to camp a little distance away from the mines, around 500 m south of the prospectors claim. This created the first form of structure in the landscape, a designated area for mining, largely isolated from the residential area. This separation may have been driven by a desire to be buffeted from the noise and dust of mining. The only domestic structure in the mining area located archaeologically is what appears to have been the Mine Manager’s house, situated between the base of the hill and the dam. Although domestic, this residence was directly related to mining operations, as Joseph Lalonde oversaw the installation of the first processing equipment on the field and continued to oversee mining operations during the first year of operation. No other concentrations of domestic artefacts consistent with residential dwellings occurred in the mining area.

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However, a modest number of industrial artefacts were found distribution in the town flat—a clear manifestation of an integrated landscape where the mine and town are inextricably linked. The range of tools found in the township area could easily have been sourced from the mining and mineral processing area. A number of other clearly industrial artefacts, including rails, boiler plates, furnace bricks, industrial styled fixing brackets and a number of pieces of heavy gauge plate metal, were also found across the town. (This suggests the utilisation of materials from the mines to supplement requirements in the town and may have been the result of careful reuse of material in the later days of Mount Shamrock.) The mining and processing area occupied a position of dominance on the hill above the town. Although the mine workings were not directly visible from the town flats, the hill was imposing and would have been a marked presence in the landscape. The Mining Warden’s tent, used for administrative business, was seen as the “principal public structure on the field” (The Maryborough Chronicle 12 February 1887). It was located at the top of the hill, looking across the various claims. This position, overlooking everything, was similar to that of the Mining Warden’s residence at Eidsvold and the Court House in Paradise and made a palpable statement regarding the power of the Mining Warden in the landscape (Mate 2014). The school was also located in a place of prominence, at the top of the other hill in the town. This selection by the residents of this position in the landscape can be considered deliberate as there was adequate flat land available behind the residential and business area. Churches and administrative buildings such as courthouses in nineteenth-century Queensland settlements often occupied a hill top position. There were no municipal or administrative buildings in Mount Shamrock. Instead, the school building fulfilled these roles, being the venue for public performances, community dances and other entertainment, the location where visiting clergymen held church services and the venue for events such as elections, public meetings and receptions for visiting dignitaries. It is clear that the location was not selected for practical reasons, as documentary evidence shows there was considerable debate over location when the school building from Paradise was moved to Shamrock. Despite identification of more suitable and accessible locations, the school remained in a focal position on the hill, overlooking the town, visible to all. The school hill is quite imposing (although not as imposing as the mine hill) and was fenced, dividing it from other parts of the town. In contrast to the prominent position of both the mine and the school, the residential and business area was located on the town flat, with residences spread along the main street for the length of the town. Businesses were predominantly located closer to the mining end of town. This was the area first settled with huts and tents in proximity to the mining area. Through time, the businesses developed structures that were more permanent in nature, the Butcher’s shop for example having a substantial concrete floor. As the township became more settled, businesses and residences extended south along the west side of Didcot Creek and the township became naturally bounded by the creek. Recreation areas were located on the western side of the residences on Main Street, where a cricket ground appears to have been situated, and a second area south of Didcot Creek was used for several different recreational

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purposes, variously described at different times as a racecourse, recreation ground and cricket ground (Johns 1892–1942). The relative lack of division and hierarchy of space observable in the structuring of the residential and business area of Mount Shamrock corresponds with the town being a small and relatively egalitarian community where access to wealth and status lay in the hands of people who actively engaged in a discourse of identity, promoting and mobilising their own status. Yet archaeological and documentary analysis shows there were at least two houses located close to the creek on the eastern side of the main street—Granny Bayntun’s cottage  and another cottage occupied at different times by the Denzler, Mann and Baker families (Fig.  6.4). While not necessarily poor, these families aligned with families of lower social status within the community hierarchy. The location of their residences closer to the creek and the lack of official status of their land holdings appear to show that there was some physical structuring of the town’s social order. Certainly, the most “distasteful” activities were placed at a distance or out of sight of the main street of town. For instance, two dumps were identified, one located archaeologically in the gully at the north boundary of the school, the other (its location known to fossickers) over the creek bank, on the eastern edge of the township. Similarly, the slaughter yards were situated southwest of the town; and the cemetery was situated the requisite distance of one mile out of town. The roadways and paths at Mount Shamrock were another structural element in the landscape, acting as a “channel for movement” (Tilley 1994:17). The roadways to and from the mine and the coach road to Gayndah, and the tracks to Biggenden, Degilbo and later to Paradise all simultaneously guided and restricted movement through the landscape. Further, fencelines had a role in guiding movement through the landscape, influencing not only where people could go but also their experience of the landscape. Fences specifically allowed access to some and restricted access to others, creating nominal but obvious barriers. By fencing, residents were asserting ownership and signifying meanings they had given to space. There were cultural rules at work in setting down the landscape of a gold-mining town, dictating what was considered the appropriate way to lay out a town. These rules guided the location of the school, the slaughter yard, the dump and the cemetery. However, attitudes to, and structure in, the landscape and domestic space changed through time. The spatial structure of Mount Shamrock changed with changing cultural mores, the advent of the Great War, the provision of better transport and the closer settlement of the region. There was a greater separation of town and mine, particularly as the residents became more involved with agriculture and less with mining. There were also changing scales of landscape with new modes of transport, both in the provision of rail after 1905 and in the arrival of motor vehicles. There were even changes in the structure of the township, the school for example becoming less of a focal point in the community when the Assembly Room was established around 1905. However, over the life of Mount Shamrock the ability to access land was a continuing theme for the residents.

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Homestead Leases, Land and Enclosure In a nineteenth and early twentieth century mining context, while access to land was affected by cultural and administrative rules, it also reflected people’s attitudes to taking up land. The manner in which people acquired access to, or were excluded from, land, housing and subsistence are all considerations in exploring the structuring of the landscape. In the earliest days of Mount Shamrock, there was a large number of tents on the field rather than “proper” houses on selected lots. There was no formal acquisition of land and enclosure was minimal. People were able to occupy land informally because the township reserve was not gazetted by the first warden Parry-Okeden, and was laid out but not gazetted by the second warden Craven. Access to land was part of the overarching colonial ideal in Queensland. Premier Samuel Griffith even made a speech to Maryborough residents in December 1887 pointing out Queensland’s success in providing land. Colonial authorities had a stated desire to see people settle on the lands of goldfields and this was the intent of the 1886 Goldfields Homesteads Leases Act, emphasised by Griffith in an address on the bill (The Brisbane Courier 27 October 1886). Access to land under this legislation provided somewhat restricted choices for settlers as land could only be selected from within the boundaries of the goldfield and the area of land offered was limited by legislation. People therefore operated within an overarching framework, even when they were dislocated from officialdom. Despite this, individual agency still operated in the location of the leases within the town, and the shape and size of specific land lots, as indicated by property boundaries. Detailed guidelines controlled the allocation of these leases, including the requirement for the lessee to hold a miners right, as well as the sizes of land lots and their location within the boundaries of the goldfield. Selectors appeared to be familiar with this process. Leases at Mount Shamrock were established by residents rather than being officially surveyed, and hand-drawn sketches accompanied applications. The selectors generally adhered to the legislative requirements and there was a degree of consistency in the size and configuration of lease boundaries. However, despite general consistency, archaeological and documentary evidence show that not everyone took up the designated area of land. There were variable amounts of land selected, although later Homestead Leases generally measured one acre with standard dimensions of 2 ½ chains × 4 chains (approximately 50  m × 80 m). Some, though, were smaller and less consistent in shape. For example, the Miners’ Homestead Lease held by Thomas Berrie was approximately half an acre in size and the block irregular in shape. In some instances people flouted the requirements while ostensibly operating within them. Some leases, such as that held by Michael McKeirnan, were larger than the allotted one acre. In 1902 other Miners’ Homestead Leases had been granted but dues were not being paid and some leases, such as the holding of McKeirnan, were claimed by the Registrar to be outside the gazetted boundary of the goldfield, although closer inspection of the goldfield shows all were

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encompassed by the boundary. There were also places where, at least in the 1900s, no lease was taken despite the fact that houses were built and people were living there. Granny Bayntun’s cottage and garden for example, the location of which is indicated by building remnants and remnant fence and garden, seems to be located in the gazetted Water Reserve. Women, business people and tradesmen also had access to the same or a lesser amounts of land as those holding a miner’s right, through a provision for “any authorised adult resident” to take up land in a goldfield reserve (The Brisbane Courier 7 Jan 1871). A number of women took up land at Mount Shamrock, including Pauline Denzler, Jane Berrie and Emily Harman, thus allowing residents to circumvent strict limits on lease sizes and provide families with additional land. This provision also meant that women could lease their own property. It was not only spouses who took advantage of this provision but siblings as well; brothers Felix and Horace Bayntun, for example, took leases side by side in the southern part of the town and Thomas Berrie’s sister Agnes took the lease behind the hotel where the Assembly Room was eventually situated. Archaeological remnants of fencing found on some boundaries demonstrates that these properties remained one whole rather than two separate leases. Leases of larger properties—up to 40 acres—were taken up outside the town area but within the extended goldfield reserve. These leases further contributed to the patchwork of colonial settlement in the district. The consequence of this process was not only an extended landscape and network but also a difference of perception. These land lots may have been Miners’ Homestead Leases but people operated them as agricultural smallholdings. In summary, leases provided a place of residence for the town’s population, stability to the community and a means of supplementing income. There was also what amounted to subversive use of legislation to gain access to land holdings that provided residents with status due to larger land-­ lots and contributed to constructions of social identity. Property boundaries were predominantly marked by fence lines, a prominent feature in the landscape. The provision of fences had a practical function in the control of livestock, but fences were also a means of structuring the landscape and marking ownership. Remnant fence lines are the most illustrative archaeological evidence for the provision of leases and the enclosure of land because they show clear delineations of property boundaries and the extent of each lease (Fig. 4.2). These remnants extend across the township and up onto the mine hill and, as already mentioned, encompass the school reserve. Within the township, picket fences were used extensively. In comparison to post and rail fences or barbed wire, picket fences required additional work in the provision of timber and construction, and in their maintenance, particularly painting. The ornate nature of some picket fences indicates the symbolic enclosure of land and the marking of property, rather than simply a practical function. Ditches still visible in the landscape also formed boundaries as well as drainage, delineating properties on the main road. This process of enclosure occurred in the settlement of many mining districts and the carving up of those landscapes is still visible. Newman et al. (2001:105) recognised that in post medieval Britain there were “clearly understood series of

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overlapping bounded land divisions containing differing meanings, constraints, rights and obligations”. In the landscape of Mount Shamrock there were goldfield boundaries, town boundaries and leasehold boundaries for mining leases, machine area leases and homestead leases. These areas had differing rights, constraints, obligations and meanings depending on the leasing arrangements and the type of lease. The boundaries encompassed differences of scale, and administrative boundaries in the region extended the scale of the landscape further still. However boundaries were fenced only at the local scale, most particularly around residential dwellings, demonstrating settlers’ rights of ownership and fulfilling obligations to improve these properties. As Anderson (1983) and Byrne (2003) have both highlighted, though, the fencing of land was also a facet in the effective restriction of the access of Aboriginal people, started with the enclosure of pastoral properties.

Ethnicity One of the most potent uses of hierarchical space is forcing “others” or the disenfranchised to become established elsewhere or away. The most literal separation in the landscape of Mount Shamrock was the separation of Aboriginal people from their country. There are no accounts of removal or conflict with Aboriginal people in the founding of the goldfield at Mount Shamrock. The operation of Native Mounted Police, in the area for almost 40 years from 1850 (Barker et al. 2020), and the presence of a pastoral station at Degilbo for the same period, would have already led to significant dislocation of local Aboriginal people. Nevertheless, the acquisition of the land for the mine and town would have at the very least limited the access of Aboriginal people to that locality. Yet there are glimpses of the Aboriginal inhabitants in the area. Documentary evidence suggests the presence of Aboriginal people on the outskirts of the town. There were newspaper accounts of the acquittal of “King” Jimmy Cranky, “of Mount Shamrock”, accused of stabbing another Aboriginal man (The Brisbane Courier 15 September 1891). This event also resulted in charges being laid against a local resident for supplying alcohol to local Aboriginal people (The Wide Bay and Burnett News 21 April 1891). Elsie Bilbrough also mentioned the event, commenting on the noise “the blacks” were making on the night this event occurred (Bilbrough n.d.). The victim of the murder was buried just out of town behind the school yard. There are also oral accounts of an Aboriginal man named Spider who was transported to Fraser Island for a misdemeanour but made his way back to Mount Shamrock, suggesting a close connection to country or community. While not conclusive, this meagre evidence indicates that an Aboriginal camp was located near the town even though no archaeological evidence for a camp was found. (An Aboriginal camp on the fringes of the town may have been indistinguishable archaeologically from European settler camps as it may have included a similar fragmentary material signature; although recent work on NMP encampments indicates an entwined archaeological record that saw everyday crockery,

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cutlery and food and beverage containers alongside knapped glass and stone (Barker et al. 2020). Regardless, no artefact scatters of any kind indicating encampments on the outer extremities of the town were found.) This may be because a large part of the “outside” landscape on the western side of the town has been considerably altered by quarrying for road gravel. Two Aboriginal artefacts were identified within the perimeter of the town during the survey, and these at least point to Aboriginal people’s association with this landscape at some time in the past. Nearby Paradise had an Aboriginal camp established on its outskirts and the Aboriginals located there participated to some degree within colonial frameworks. Camps located near European settlements enabled Aboriginal people to stay on their land (Byrne 2002; Godwin and L’Oste-Brown 2002). While not archaeologically identifiable in this instance, exclusion of Aboriginal people was a form of structuring in the landscape that was a very real division based on colonial ideologies of race. Although these camps were a common occurrence for gold-mining towns, they cannot be seen as archetypal. Just as the internal structure and demography of individual mining towns differed, so did the relationship between local Aboriginal groups and colonial settlers. In the north of the Upper Burnett, for example, some Aboriginal people lived in both Cania and Monal. By the second half of the period in which Mount Shamrock was occupied, town camps had generally been disbanded and people moved to government-enforced reserves, nearly always separating the local Aboriginal people from their traditional country. Ironically, Chinese residents of goldfields have received more regular mention than Aboriginal people and are named in some sources, in contrast to the near invisibility of the original inhabitants. The Chinese were recognised as part of the social landscape of mining, even though contemporary newspaper discussions perceived their presence as a problem. By the time Mount Shamrock was operational, legislation had all but banned the Chinese from working on mines (Kerr 1995:123). There were some Chinese miners in the Upper Burnett, most notably operating outside Mount Perry and at Cania on alluvial deposits. However, as mining towns such as Eidsvold, Mount Shamrock and Paradise were settled in the second half of the 1880s, the Chinese were by that time “only allowed to have market gardens” (ARDM 1888), excluded by the colonial legislative framework, as well as entrenched racism. In illustration of Sibley’s (1995:50) explanation of the social and spatial separation of people on the periphery, regarded as “deviant” by the dominant colonial power, the maligning of the Chinese was endemic and they were accordingly excluded in the landscape. Prangnell et al. (2005:22–23) noted indications of a market garden tended by Ah Tchee outside Paradise. Chinese market gardens were situated outside towns elsewhere in the Upper Burnett, with those at Eidsvold sited south of Harkness Creek and that at Monal located south of the township. In the 1891 census, no Chinese were recorded in the Chowey district where Mount Shamrock was located, but subsequent statistics including those from the Registrar General and the Mines Department showed up to six Chinese people living in the district. No archaeological evidence of Chinese residents was found at Mount Shamrock.

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At Mount Shamrock, the residents were primarily British or Irish by birth, or born in Australia of British and/or Irish parents, with a small number of German nationals in residence as well. The residents of Mount Shamrock largely operated a framework of Britishness and maintained relations with Britain. New British migrants such as the recently-arrived teachers Elsie Bilbrough and Grace Smith perpetuated this social framework and the view that Britain was the centre of the colonial world (see Gosden 2004). Welsh and Irish miners such as Parry and Williams and O’Leary and O’Malley, on the other hand, would have had a different view of “Britishness”, influenced by their own experiences of the colonial juggernaut. As Lawrence (2003) has argued, what is seen as Britishness to colonials is actually an external view of Britain, rather than an internal view (see also Johnson 2003 for discussion on ‘muffled inclusiveness’). The Welsh and Irish for example did not see a British whole. Instead, regional differences from Britain, such as the “Welsh singers”, were recognised. Furthermore, the presence of a number of German residents would have further mitigated the influence of a British colonial view of social landscape and hierarchy. Nevertheless, there appears to have been a perpetuation of English/British cultural views of status and behaviour. Further, financial associations with Britain were strong, seeing British shareholders in the Mount Shamrock Gold Mining Company, and at one point the appointment of a mine manager directly from Britain (The Maryborough Chronicle 6 November 1897). There was however no spatial structuring around European ethnicity observable. Overall, relationships to Britain were founded on both commercial interest and class, with some residents fitting into specific places in the social hierarchy by virtue of their Britishness. There was a contextual modification of this hierarchy, though, with some sense of egalitarianism based on relatively open access to income and land. Overall, with the range of ethnicities, differing social rules and internal hierarchies represented in the town, the effects of “colonialisation” (Gosden 2004) were readily observable at Mount Shamrock.

Movement and Permanence in the Landscape The discovery of gold at Mount Shamrock generated the movement of people across the landscape, although not to the scale of rushes associated with the Californian and Victorian goldfields in the 1840s and 1850s: A mild gold fever is raging in Maryborough, which looks as if it would spread with virulence. Teams, loaded with machinery and stores, are daily setting forth for Mount Shamrock and Brovinia, and numbers of men are daily "rushing" to Eidsvold, which is predicted by mining men will become one of the best fields in Queensland (The Brisbane Courier 25 July 1887)

Miners moved locally from discovery to discovery within the region. People came from a number of established places—from the mining towns of Gympie and Mount Perry, from the business centre of Maryborough and from the rural centre of

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Gayndah. As already examined, not everyone making the move was a miner. There were people who ran stores and hotels, operated carting businesses, and there were women and children. As Mount Shamrock was one of the earlier fields gazetted in the area, this movement of people from and to other mining towns in the district continued throughout the life of the settlement, as it did throughout the Upper Burnett. In spite of this apparent geographic mobility, many residents remained at, or returned to Mount Shamrock. Few of the early prospectors remained as long-term residents. Many of them were venturers who, once they had gained a mining lease, installed managers. Instead, experienced miners, who came to work the leases for the speculators, settled with their families. People who had never undertaken mining before became caught up in the “fever” and moved to Mount Shamrock as “miners”, remaining in the town but changing or reverting to land or business for income. Some miners did arrive in the first rush and subsequently moved to the next gold find. Nevertheless, many of these did not travel far, only moving to new discoveries in the district. Although potentially a highly mobile workforce, many of these people were prepared to adapt to work other than mining in order to maintain themselves, rather than move on. One motivating factor for this limited mobility was the opportunity, inherent in mining legislation, to acquire land. The broader region was part of a continuous mining landscape. The extended landscape of the Mount Shamrock goldfield abutted the boundaries of other goldfields such as Paradise and Chowey and had connections through transport routes to places such as Biggenden and Mount Perry. Consequently, the boundary of the town and even the goldfield was less important in the constitution of the sphere of operation of the mining community at Mount Shamrock. The number of goldfields in relative proximity had an ameliorating effect on the difficulties of movement—family and belongings could be left in one place while the new ground was tested out. Miners could then travel from place to place, while their families remained in the same community. For example, Mr. Burns went to Paradise from Mount Shamrock first and moved his family later, and Mr. Weekes moved to Biggenden, his wife joining him 2 months later (Bilbrough n.d.). It is clear that the residents of Mount Shamrock, rather than seeing themselves as part of an ephemeral mining town, intended to settle. The clearance of land, the provision of extensive fencing, stumps-and-brick instead of earth-packed floors all point to an intention of permanency. Although some residents lived in tents before moving on, those who settled took up land and built permanent dwellings. Some of the earliest settlers quickly established substantial houses, which argues for an intention of permanence. Furthermore, the presence of decorative ceramics, glassware, and domestic furnishings and features such fireplaces demonstrate that the residents had access to (and used) a range of material culture that was more appropriate for a settled existence than that of a mobile workforce (Hardesty 1998: 84). Lawrence (1998, 2000) has argued that residents of Dolly’s Creek took care with decoration and furnishing, and used a range of domestic objects such as ceramics and decorative glassware in an attempt to conform to ideals of a respectable home, despite living under canvas. The residents of Mount Shamrock also created a

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relatively stable, permanent settlement. They used material culture in the construction of identity, were active participants in establishing their community, and their intention appeared to be that of social rather than geographic mobility. That residents did settle and construct homes, even if they later found themselves moving, is an indication of their intentionality. When they did move, it was relatively nearby and structures were moved to and from Mount Shamrock. For example, Berries’ Hotel was moved from Gebangle to Paradise and from Paradise to Mount Shamrock. This same mobility is observable in other parts of the Burnett. The archaeological record at Mount Shamrock clearly demonstrates the effects of the relocation of houses as the township waned. Many houses were relocated leaving stumps, brick floors and fireplaces as the predominant remnants; this movement of residential and building structures was a fundamental part of the mobility of people around the district. The ability and cultural acceptance of the practice of movement of buildings better allowed people to be somewhat mobile and still raise suitable new residences, facilitating not only the movement of people to a newly established place but also freeing up disposable income to contribute to manifestations of social mobility. The community at Mount Shamrock was not a mobile and discrete community of miners bound together by occupation, moving progressively from one mining town to the next (Douglass 1998:100; Knapp 1998:5) or a settled and stable community mining a hard rock deposit (Bell 1998:29). Instead, the community held a diverse combination of mining and non-mining people who made a variety of decisions about settlement and movement. They were however part of an informal community that extended over several townships, a mobile community attached to each other but at the same time tied to location in terms of the district, a connection to a landscape that held meaning for the residents.

 he Colonial Framework and Its Influence T on Social Landscape The broader networks manifested through links to other places in the Upper Burnett and beyond—to Maryborough, Gympie, Brisbane and overseas—were an integral part of the social landscape of Mount Shamrock. These links tied Mount Shamrock to the political, economic and administrative framework of the colony which was, itself, connected to other parts of the British Empire. The colonial government had a clear influence on the structuring of the landscape in administrative, political and economic terms. Residents of Mount Shamrock and of other mining towns in the Upper Burnett obviously were part of this structure and perpetuated the social landscape through their actions, both witting and unconscious. Examination of the town layout shows that, along with individual choice, the overarching societal framework played a role in the structuring of the town. According to de Certeau (1984:48), in a Foucauldian sense practices are organised

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through both space and language. The colonial administration in Queensland achieved this. Controls and organisation of the structure, scale and demarcation of the landscape were established through mining legislation that addressed goldfield boundaries, mining leases, machinery and water reserves, homestead, business and market garden leases. These controls also brought a language that is in some cases still in use today for these structures—as de Certeau would have it, a “technology of power” (1984:48). The more direct interactions with this framework were through administrative representatives—police inspectors, education inspectors and magistrates. All visited Mount Shamrock, perpetuating broader cultural standards and ensuring compliance with state regulations. These visitors brought with them a view of the world beyond the local perception of activities and events, as did state appointed professionals such as police officers and teachers. The most influential control by far was at the hands of the Mining Wardens. The earliest wardens, Parry-Okeden and Craven, were both part of the squattocracy, having links to broader networks and connections to the United Kingdom. Both of them operated at a higher level administratively and were part of the colonial enterprise. Prominently associated with several mining ventures, these high profile men provided connections between the government and residents of the town, such as Mining Managers Lalonde, Higgins and Cause. Throughout the life of Mount Shamrock, the Mining Wardens also provided direct links between other mining towns in the Upper Burnett. Parry-Okeden, for example, visited both Mount Perry and Monal, and Craven became the Mining Warden for Eidsvold. Other connections to Brisbane, and overseas to Britain, were maintained by visitors to the town. Captain Bennett, Mine Manager at Mount Perry, travelled on the coach to Mount Shamrock with Elsie Bilbrough in 1890 (Bilbrough n.d.), and later visited in his role of Mines Inspector. Bennett had connections to the McIlwraith administration through the Premier’s interests at Mount Perry, but also voyaged to Britain to promote Mount Perry to investors. Mining agents and capital investors Crawford and Woodyatt of Maryborough also visited Britain, representing Mount Shamrock as a mining investment (Morrison 1888). Education also played a substantive role in reinforcing the overarching structures of the colony through the Education Board’s control over curriculum, how it was taught, levels and methods of discipline, and even through links to public celebrations such as Arbour Day. While the town and state engagement with education can be explained in part in terms of Bell’s (1998:28) assertions of the fears of anarchy related to gold mining held by the colonial government (linked to the events of the Eureka rebellion in 1854), it should also be recognised as an active participation by the residents of Mount Shamrock in a cultural performance to perpetuate societal frameworks. The residents prompted the commencement of schooling and took an active interest in the school management. One other way in which colonial structures operated was through the class system. As already explored, there may well have been personal agency in attempts at upward social mobility. There is no doubt that this occurred with a clear knowledge and understanding—and operated within the overarching structure—of colonial

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society, particularly as people were seen to be actively seeking land and access to wealth through mining leases. The residents also used the newspapers and flow of information through visitors to influence external views of their occupation and settlements. The corollary of this, internal to the colony and internal to the mining settlements, is that the successes promoted by gold-mining towns elsewhere affected the residents’ view of themselves. It gave them an understanding of what avenues for improvement were available to them, and the potential scale of that improvement. The perception of fortunes made in other parts of Queensland, such as Charters Towers (and other parts of the world for that matter), meant that residents of even small mining towns could hope (and at times manage) to emulate these successes. Colonial and governmental influences altered through time, lessening with the decreasing importance of gold mining in the second and third decades of the twentieth century. The administrative framework was changing with the influence of the Great War and the depression that followed. These events served on the whole to reduce the effective scale of the landscape in which Mount Shamrock residents operated, although some residents of the township served in the war. There were still some connections, and residents attempted to operate within the structural framework of society while trying to influence it, for example by lobbying for an extension of the rail line, requesting designation as a State School in 1914 or through requesting the gazetting of the town boundary in 1914. The office of the Surveyor General surveyed the town in 1923, and additional land was taken up under Prickly Pear lease. Reduced by the 1920s to a rural hamlet, the residents of Mount Shamrock nevertheless continued to operate within the rules although the rules now related to fewer and less extensive networks of influence.

Summary The colonial context for nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Queensland can be recognised in the way people behaved at Mount Shamrock—the “historicity of agency” of Johnson (2000:214). So it is that the two-fold agencies put forward by Dobres and Robb (2000:11) of societal framework and individual intentionality, agency and action, were used by residents to “construct, negotiate and transform” the social landscape of Mount Shamrock. This intentionality and individual agency operating in a localised societal framework allowed social mobility. The occupants of Mount Shamrock constructed their social identity through access to land and the structuring of landscape though the selection and enclosure of property and by attention to the location of communal activities. The material used in the construction of dwellings and the use of architectural fixtures further contributed to these promotions of identity as did domestic material culture. However, as will be discussed shortly, newcomers from Britain and Europe perceived the social and physical landscape in terms of wilderness and resource. This influenced to some degree how they structured that landscape. In building the town, they created a place of

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stability, recognised for its “settled and business-like aspect”; this was an approach that nevertheless excluded “others” with ethnicity a key factor in who was part of the community. As much as land anchored residents in place, there was still a degree of mobility, with the community translocating at different times to nearby towns including Paradise. The community (as much as the residents themselves) was mobile, and retained its essence by virtue of relationships extending over geographical space. Connection to place seems apparent in the limited loci of movement that saw the residents of Mount Shamrock appear in nearby towns and then return again. The residents were part of a mobile mining community, firmly situated within entrepreneurship of resource extraction. Added to physical mobility was the social mobility realised through access to income and land in a mining town, and the ability to negotiate and project social identity. As occupants of a mining town, people in Mount Shamrock saw themselves as part of the great new age of colonial enterprise. Colonialism and colonialisation (Gosden 2004) brought the heart of the Empire to Queensland in the way people followed cultural mores, even if they somewhat modified their behaviour, their material culture and their approaches to the use of that material culture away from the imperial norm. This fact was manifested in the everyday activities of the settlers at Mount Shamrock, activities undertaken within and beyond the immediate landscape.

References Anderson, C. 1983. Aborigines and tin mining in North Queensland: A case study in the anthropology of contact history. Mankind 13 (6): 473–498. ARDM. 1888. Annual report Department of Mines, 1888. Queensland Government Printer: Brisbane. Barker, B., L.A. Wallis, H. Burke, N. Cole, K. Lowe, U. Artym, A. Pagels, L. Bateman, E. Hatte, C. De Leiuen, I. Davidson, and L. Zimmerman. 2020. The archaeology of the ‘Secret War’: The material evidence of conflict on the Queensland frontier, 1849–1901. Queensland Archaeological Research 23: 25–41. Bell, P. 1998. The fabric and structure of Australian mining settlements. In Social approaches to an industrial past: The archaeology and anthropology of mining, ed. A.B. Knapp, V.C. Pigott, and E.W. Herbert, 27–38. London: Routledge. Bilbrough, E. n.d. An extract from the diary of Elsie Bilbrough: First teacher at Mount Shamrock, 1890–1892. Unpublished manuscript held by the Biggenden Historical Society. Brooks, A. 2005. An archaeological guide to British ceramics in Australia, 1788–1901. Sydney: The Australasian Society for Historical Archaeology. Burke, H. 1999. Meaning and ideology in historical archaeology: Style, social identity and capitalism in an Australian town. New York: Plenum Publishers. Byrne, D. 2002. An archaeology of attachment: Cultural heritage and the post-contact. In After captain cook: The archaeology of the recent indigenous past in Australia, ed. R. Harrison and C. Williamson. Sydney: Sydney University Archaeological Methods Series 8. ———. 2003. Segregated landscapes: The heritage of racial segregation in New South Wales. Historic Environment 17: 13–17.

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Crook, P. 2011. Rethinking assemblage analysis: New approaches to the archaeology of working-­ class neighborhoods. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 15 (4): 582–593. de Certeau, M. 1984. The practice of everyday life. Berkeley: University of California Press. Dobres, M., and J.E. Robb. 2000. Agency in archaeology: Paradigm or platitude? In Agency in Archaeology, ed. M. Dobres and J.E. Robb, 3–17. New York: Routledge. Douglass, W.A. 1998. The mining camp as community. In Social approaches to an industrial past: The archaeology and anthropology of mining, ed. A.B. Knapp, V.C. Pigott, and E.W. Herbert, 97–108. London: Routledge. Godwin, L., and S.  L’Oste-Brown. 2002. A past remembered: Aboriginal ‘historical’ places in Central Queensland. In After captain cook: The archaeology of the recent indigenous past in Australia, ed. R. Harrison and C. Williamson, 191–212. Sydney: Archaeological Computing Laboratory, University of Sydney. Gosden, C. 2004. Archaeology and colonialism: Cultural contact form 5000 BC to the present. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hardesty, D. 1998. Power and the industrial mining community in the American West. In Social approaches to an industrial past: The archaeology and anthropology of mining, ed. A.B. Knapp, V.C. Pigott, and E.W. Herbert, 81–96. London: Routledge. Hayes, S. 2019. Pursuing the comparative analysis of gold rush lives by tracing material and quality-­of-life trajectories. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 23: 678–709. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10761-­018-­0495-­9. Johns, H.W. 1892–1942. Harry Winefred Johns papers. Brisbane: John Oxley Library. Johnson, M. 2000. Self-made men and the staging of agency. In Agency in archaeology, ed. M. Dobres and J.E. Robb, 213–231. New York: Routledge. ———. 2003. Muffling inclusiveness: Some notes towards an archaeology of the British. In Archaeologies of the British: Explorations of identity in Great Britain and its colonies 1600–1945, ed. S. Lawrence, 17–30. London: Routledge. Kerr, R. 1995. The mines department and mining legislation to 1900. In People, places and policies: Aspects of Queensland government administration 1859–1920, ed. K.  Cohen and K. Wiltshire, 116–131. St Lucia: UQ Press. Kirch, P.V., and J. Kahn. 2007. Advances in Polynesian prehistory: A review and assessment of the past decade (1993–2004). Journal of Archaeological Research 15: 191–238. Knapp, A.B. 1998. Social approaches to the archaeology and anthropology of mining. In Social approaches to an industrial past: The archaeology and anthropology of mining, ed. A.B. Knapp, V.C. Pigott, and E.W. Herbert, 1–23. London: Routledge. Lawrence, S. 1998. Gender and community structure on Australian colonial goldfields. In Social approaches to an industrial past: The archaeology and anthropology of mining, ed. V.C. Pigott, A.B. Knapp, and E.W. Herbert, 39–58. London: Routledge. ———. 2000. Dolly’s creek: An archaeology of a Victorian goldfields community. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press. ———. 2003. At home in the bush: Material culture and Australian nationalism. In Archaeologies of the British: Explorations of identity in Great Britain and its colonies, 1600–1945, ed. S. Lawrence, 211–223. London: Routledge. Lightfoot, K.G., A. Martinez, and A.M. Schiffer. 1998. Daily practice and material culture in pluralistic social settings: An archaeological study of culture change and persistence from Fort Ross, California. American Antiquity 63 (2): 199–223. Mate, G. 2014. Streets and stamper batteries – An ‘industrial’ landscape of gold mining townships in nineteenth-century Queensland. Australasian Historical Archaeology 32: 47–55. Morrison, W.F. 1888. Aldine history of Queensland. Sydney: Aldine Publishing Co. Newman, E.T. 2017. Landscapes of labor: Architecture and identity at a Mexican Hacienda. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 21: 198–222. https://doi.org/10.1007/ s10761-­016-­0329-­6. Newman, R., D. Cranstone, and C. Howard-Davis. 2001. The historical archaeology of Britain, c.1540–1900. Sutton: Thrupp, Stroud, Gloucestershire.

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Prangnell, J., L.  Cheshire, and K.  Quirk. 2005. Paradise: Life on a Queensland Goldfield. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Archaeological Services Unit. Quirk, K. 2004 Missionaries in paradise: Methodism on the Australian frontier. Paper presented at the Australasian Society for Historical Archaeology Annual Conference, Christchurch, New Zealand. ———. 2007. The Victorians in ‘Paradise’: Gentility as social strategy in the archaeology of colonial Australia. Unpublished PhD thesis, School of Social Science, University of Queensland, Brisbane. Sibley, D. 1995. Geographies of exclusion. London: Routledge. Sneddon, A. 2006. Seeing slums through rose coloured glasses. Australian Archaeology 63: 1–8. Thorpe, B. 1996. Colonial Queensland: Perspectives on a frontier society. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Tilley, C. 1994. A phenomenology of landscape: Places, paths and monuments. Oxford: Berg. Tomka, S. 1993. Site abandonment behavior among transhumant agro-pastoralists: The effects of delayed curation on assemblage composition. In Abandonment of settlements and regions: Ethnoarchaeological and archaeological approaches, ed. C.M.  Cameron and S.A.  Tomka, 11–24. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Chapter 7

Scale, Meaning, Experience: Exploring Landscapes

The landscape at Mount Shamrock was socially constructed, conceptualised and understood by the residents partially in terms of the context in which they encountered it. Recognition that people operated within a landscape that had a variety of scales, and that scale was in fact fluid, is an integral part of understanding the same landscape. There were also different phases of use; and individuals held different views of Mount Shamrock and its surrounds that changed through time. As a result, several meanings in the landscape were held in tension simultaneously. While the way specific parts of the landscape were used and regarded was revealed through the archaeological and archival evidence, experiential reading of the landscape can also bring to light more ephemeral and intangible aspects of the landscape, such as sense-scapes, and the relationship and experience everyday residents had within it. This chapter examines the ways in which landscape scale, meaning and experience were encountered and understood by the residents of the town. In acknowledging the presence of a socio-symbolic landscape—the perceived, experienced and contextualised product of people—the dialectical constitution of a landscape of meaning is an important consideration. The landscape of Mount Shamrock was constructed, conceptualised and imagined—constructed physically by clearing and settlement, and conceptually by structuring of space; conceived in terms of wilderness, mining landscape, and agricultural pasture; and imagined as a place within spheres of experience. This ideational landscape included stories that conjured images of places not physically marked, and imagined landscapes including those at a distance (such as the mental picture of Britain as the colonial centre point). It also encompassed landscapes as remembered and imagined places where events, time and space were conflated. Narrative, movement and loss all played a role in the creation of meaning and attachment in the landscape. Descriptions and depictions of the landscape, found in photographs, town plans, parish maps, plans of Homestead Leases, hand drawn maps, diaries and published in newspapers, bring to light the way the residents had of Mount Shamrock saw their township and how they wanted to present it. The landscape extended beyond the town and mine to other places of particular importance and had a variety of © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 G. Mate, Mining the Landscape, Contributions To Global Historical Archaeology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-12906-3_7

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scales—stretching from the immediate boundaries of the town at the end of the main street, to local places including the slaughter yards, Irwin’s Hotel on the coach road and the cemetery. The broader social and industrial landscape encapsulated local townships of Paradise, Gebangle, Chowey Creek, Biggenden and Gayndah. Larger mining towns in the Upper Burnett, such as Eidsvold, Mount Perry and Cania, made up another scale. More widely, Maryborough, Gympie, Brisbane and Britain were part of the sphere of interaction of Mount Shamrock residents. At its centre however was the local landscape of town and mine.

Local Landscape At a local level, the townscape was framed by the size and configuration of houses, the nature (or style) of the houses and their appearance. The houses of Mount Shamrock varied in building materials, structure and appearance through the town, although their location and appearance (including perceptions of permanency) changed through time. As seen depicted in contemporary photographs, bark huts and rustic, impermanent sheds constructed of rough timbers and kerosene tins placed directly on the bare earth were situated side by side with more permanent and well-presented iron roofed timber dwellings on stumps. These photographs also show where structures were located within the landscape, highlighting visually how the positioning of a particular structure in a specific place in the landscape can play a role in transmitting ideology. For example, two photographs of the township (Figs.  7.1 and 7.2) show the relative dominance of the school over the visual

Fig. 7.1  Mount Shamrock township, 1903. The school is just visible above trees at centre right above white building in middle distance (John Oxley Library, Image No 188835)

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Fig. 7.2  Detail from image of Mount Shamrock township, 1908. A variety of house types and fencing styles are identifiable. School is highly visible in the middle of the picture above the houses. Assembly room is the large building on the town flat, behind main street. (State Library of Queensland Image No 101260)

perspective of the town, a dominance supported by first-hand experience of the prominence of the school hill during the fieldwork (see later). Photographs also show the physical changes to the landscape, including the degree of clearing. By 1911, the degree of clearing along the creek bank and across the town flat is evident, with none of the original creek side vegetation visible (Fig. 7.3). Behind the houses, larger trees are still present. The use and quantity of timber consumed in buildings was another aspect of changing landscape. The construction of the Mount Shamrock Hotel (Fig. 7.4) illustrates the amount of timber used in the construction of a bark dwelling. This relatively early photograph also shows a greater concentration of vegetation in the immediate surroundings of the town, including large trees, in comparison to the timbering visible in later photographs. The range and extent of other structures across the town further highlights the vast amount of timber resources used. For example, along with timber framing for dwellings across the township, processing structures in the mining area consumed timber for several phases of buildings, including a timber loading ramp than ran a considerable distance from the haul tunnel of the mine to the battery. Town plans from 1902 and 1923 (see Fig. 7.5 for example) illustrate the size, orientation, location and leaseholders of landholdings within the town, with a variety of small Homestead Leases located within the town while larger Miners Homestead Leases, primarily used as agricultural small holdings, were situated beyond the immediate town environs. Later maps show early Mount Shamrock residents including the Bayntuns, the Taylors and the Berries still holding land after gold mining had declined. As explored earlier, the details in historical maps, together

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Fig. 7.3  Mount Shamrock township, 1911. The degree of clearing is obvious. The presence of white painted houses and verandas contrasts with wooden structures. Outbuildings are also clearly visible (Dunstan 1911)

Fig. 7.4  Mount Shamrock Hotel 1890 (John Oxley Library, Image No 384)

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Fig. 7.5  Miners Homestead Leases related to property owners, 1902 (Department of Mines, MP13500)

with family histories of the leaseholders, point to the kinship and working relationships reflected in the fabric of the township. The importance to individuals of particular places was also identifiable through maps and in written sources, together with functional aspects of the local landscape. Cadastral maps and other government commissioned plans also indicated other uses of space such as the location of Mrs. (Granny) Bayntun’s house, Mrs. Baker’s house and Hugh Cairns’ garden, all outside gazetted leaseholds. Slaughter yards were located beyond the immediate confines of the town, as were recreational grounds, most particularly a cricket pitch situated to the north of the main street along with an additional recreational area which was gazetted on the south side of the town. This recreational view of the landscape is found in the diary of Harvey Johns’ (Johns 1892–1942), a teacher who also coached the school cricket side and captained the adult cricket side. The presence of these features were important enough to Johns for him to draw a sketch map in his diary, a sketch map that also highlights the prominence of the school and the mine. Similarly, the historic  mapping of  industrial activities and places of specific actions related to the mining areas added valuable context to the archaeological remnants. While different activity areas across the township and mining areas were identified archaeologically, these historical details confirmed the purpose and approximate location of features relating to the mine, including some mine shafts,

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trackways and the dam on the creek. The construction of the main thoroughfare in the township and Mount Shamrock Road itself were demonstrated archaeologically, supported by the archival records, with evidence of clearing, pathways and creek crossings, together with the presence of fencing and the absence of artefacts particularly in the main street. As previously explored, these were all components in the structuring of space across the local landscape.

Landscape of Meaning The meanings which people create and in turn took from the landscape and how those meanings were embedded in landscapes was a fundamental consideration in this project. In earlier chapters the narrative of Mount Shamrock’s history was presented, along with some of the remarks of residents about their environment. Residents commented on physical and social experiences of living there, people and places of significance, and even perceptions of class and their place in the hierarchy of colonial Queensland. So, how can these data be used to understand the nature of the meanings constructed by the residents of Mount Shamrock? The mechanisms for weaving meaning in landscapes discussed in Chap. 2, most particularly narrative, movement and physical alteration of the land, are a good starting point for understanding how the residents of Mount Shamrock embedded their own meaning in the landscape, and how attachment to place was developed through these same mechanisms. One of the meanings embedded at Mount Shamrock was perception of wilderness. Extending from concepts of wilderness, comes reflection on the time taken to establish meaning in a landscape. This includes contemplation of the physical landscape of the town and the effects of changes such as clearing, together with the very real impact of climatic conditions—drought, floods, storms. There were also other views of the landscape held by the residents (including recognition of the town as part of a local and more dispersed mining landscape and later as an agricultural landscape) and by others. In exploring these different views, it is possible to articulate the multiple layers of meaning and understanding of the landscape of Mount Shamrock that existed.

Giving and Taking Meaning in the Landscape People moving into the space that became Mount Shamrock created a landscape of meanings. The landscape was variously regarded as a wilderness, a mining town, a dead-end posting, a setting for social activity and a home. The residents created and understood their landscape through the act of living in place, the physical alteration of their environment, by moving across the landscape and by recounting stories.

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They formed knowledge of the landscape through every-day and irregular events, and, through these, embedded meaning in their loci of activity. The physical alteration of the landscape was a fundamental means of creating both meaning and attachment: by altering the land, people came to understand, know, create meaning and form attachment. At the most basic level, for European settlers, the early prospectors changed the meaning of Mount Shamrock from a pastoral landscape to a mining landscape by the act of digging and the deposition of mullock heaps, together with the construction of mining structures. The physical alteration of the landscape altered the meaning for both the new residents and the pastoralists already present. For Aboriginal people already living on this land, the landscape would contrastingly have been altered away from the familiar and access to paths and water hindered. The relatively sudden arrival of a large number of people, and the simultaneous pegging and working of claims made the transformation to a mining landscape appear almost instantaneous. Although the broader landscape continued to be understood by the residents of Degilbo as pastoral, the changes effected at Mount Shamrock itself, together with the rhetoric associated with the place quickly altered the meaning of the place for all. The making of a town by the act of clearing, building, fencing and planting was one mechanism by which the extended landscape came to have meaning for the new residents. In the everyday activities of physically digging and clearing, individuals came to know some portions of the landscape intimately. As they cleared more, or prospected further afield, so their knowledge of the land increased, along with experience in the landscape. The town landscape, as it emerged from the trees, also became more intimately known and understood. Events, both insignificant and calamitous, occurred in the process of these everyday activities, further adding to the meaning understood and embedded in place: the route walked along the main street up to the hill was the mine track; the death of James Baker on Mount Shamrock Road forever altered the meaning of that place. Further, as has already been explored, part of the creation of the landscape of Mount Shamrock resulted in a structuring of space that acted as a form of social discourse, establishing and perpetuating social ideologies through the landscape. Events such as births, deaths and progression of life lived in the town provided a genealogical attachment (Armstrong 2001:47) to the landscape of Mount Shamrock. The genealogical attachment can be seen in the continued occupation of the land from the earliest European settlement, with some families such as the Taylor’s and Berries remaining in the landscape, and others, such as the Bayntuns continuing associations with the landscape despite relocations. The cemeteries at Chowey (Mount Shamrock), Paradise and Degilbo continue as focal points of attachments to place, with loved ones buried there. Taçon (1999:37) has suggested that places of dramatic topographical changes are often foci of understanding. At Mount Shamrock, this manifested as a view of the mine hill and its dramatic presence in the field. The hill and the gold deposit were both prominent geological features in the landscape. Along with the physical evidence of mining activities, the hill was a socially activated place, holding a wealth of meaning (and meaning of wealth) attached to the mine at the crest. The mine hill was a source of economic importance and as such had meaning directly associated

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with that feature. The economic connections to landscape continued with the acquisition of land by settlers, contributing to their way of life. As residents turned from mining to agriculture, the source of income changed but the symbolic linkage to the land continued, albeit with different meaning. Movement across landscape contributes to attachment and embedding of meaning. Places mean something because people move through them every day or journey to them at some time (Mate and Pocock, 2017: 3). In Mount Shamrock, movement occurred on a daily basis—the walk to and from the mine, visits to shops, the walk to school, strolls across landscape, regular carting of water and so on. School teacher Elsie Bilbrough in particular gave accounts of these movements. She highlighted how this was a regular activity, describing the route she took, the visitors encountered and features of the landscape (Bilbrough n.d.). This movement formed a “kind of communion” through “habitual and inconspicuous familiarity” (Thomas 2001:172) with the landscape, observable in the development of regular paths and routes, still identifiable in the pattern of archaeological remnants across the landscape. More intermittent movement also created meaning. Irregular journeys included visits to the mine by people not usually employed there, a trip to the cemetery to bury someone, or trips to other towns for social purposes. Therefore, the familiar landscape included Mount Shamrock and surrounds, and extended to Paradise, Biggenden, Chowey and Degilbo with these less regular events also providing understanding and meanings in the landscape. The broader mining landscape of the Upper Burnett encompassed not only the mining towns but other townships such as Gayndah and the communes, readily accessible from Mount Shamrock and visited, for example, for recreation (Johns 1892–1942). They were understood largely in terms of the activities undertaken there. This wider landscape encompassed journeys to Maryborough and Brisbane, particularly for people like Elsie Bilbrough, who made an account of her journey to Mount Shamrock (Bilbrough n.d.), Harvey Johns, who described many trips to and from Mount Shamrock as well as around the district (Johns 1892–1942), and James Higgins who travelled regularly to these places. These accounts demonstrated the role of journey and narrative in creating a landscape. Even the road travelled provided an element of the description of a place visited. For example, Idle Quill described the trip from Brisbane to Paradise: Although the country passed through is poor, the late rains had made it looks its best, especially the ring-barked areas, of which there is a good deal in the vicinity of Degilbo homestead. Along this portion of the road the traveller sees stacks of split firewood and one learns on inquiry that these are for the Mount Shamrock Goldfield, which is only a couple of miles off the road. (The Brisbane Courier 21 February 1898)

Narratives of events and experiences formed a sense of identity for the miners and other people settling in the Upper Burnett. The recounting of stories while physically moving across the landscape further reinforces meaning—forming a dialectical landscape where events have created meaning and meaning is understood and reinforced by visiting and recounting. In this view of landscape, features become closely related through events or stories, regardless of physical distance, and

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topographical features can become less or more pronounced or can even be conflated depending on their importance to the understanding of a landscape. The stories of events further serve to create meaning in a landscape. Accounts of dances are frequently presented as illustrative of life at Mount Shamrock and are often directly associated, by the narrator, with the place they occurred. Narrative is also identifiable in the provision of maps to tell the history of a place. A mud map of Mount Shamrock, drawn in the 1970s, shows part of the story of the town, focussing particularly on the residents. The map highlights the location of certain family properties and key businesses such as the post office and butcher, but there is a conflation of places and features through time and space, and the scale is variable. The features included are themselves dependent on experience, memory and events—an imagined landscape. Imagined landscapes do not occur as a bounded map in our minds. Instead space and distance are elastic, with lesser or greater density of meaning through contact, narrative, experience and movement across that country. Stories and journeys provide us with an image—a mental map—of country and places that have meaning and associations. Boundaries may still occur as internal boundaries such as between inside and outside: a fenced area; in the town and outside of the town; and even here and there—the Upper Burnett and other parts of Queensland, Australia and elsewhere. Such a landscape of understanding and experience for colonial Queenslanders could include parts of Sydney in New South Wales or further even to Britain (for those people like Captain Bennett who travelled for business or Elsie Bilbrough, a migrant (Bilbrough n.d.)). Part of the understanding developed here of this imagined landscape was from the narrative of others who had visited, from accounts in newspapers and also from the memories of family and friends. Britain could therefore be understood in colonial terms as “home”, a place in the imagined landscape, never visited but somehow known from stories, holding meaning, understood. Furthermore, the colonial ideal of Britain as the centre of the empire contributed to this attachment, despite the proportion of Queensland-born residents present at Mount Shamrock. This was demonstrated for example in the rhetoric of newspaper correspondents and, as Gosden (2004) suggests, in the continued use of the material culture from the colonial centre at the colonial antipodes (observable at Mount Shamrock in the large range of British-made ceramics). Even the act of naming a place—an overt statement of association—is a mechanism for creating meaning in a landscape. This is manifested in the Upper Burnett by the naming of towns such as Eidsvold, Stanton Harcourt and New Moonta. Identifying places as important through associations with faraway places can be considered a form of cosmological linkage. Mount Shamrock was one of many colonial mines with that lucky epithet and the irony of the name Paradise, possibly chosen in a fit of optimism, was certainly recognised by the residents. Closer associations across the district were written in the naming of roads between places, but also in the naming of streets, for example Shamrock St in the commune settlement of Byrnestown (Metcalf 1998:131). The naming of places inscribes ideological messages into everyday life and creates associations between place and group

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identity (Alderman 2016). In the naming of locations locally for known places elsewhere, residents were both marking the landscape, and perhaps to some degree asserting genealogical ties. In this way they were making the new landscape, if not physically familiar, then at least known in toponymic terms. The residents of Mount Shamrock created and modified their landscape and in turn took meaning from the same landscape. These landscapes were not a back drop for activity but held meanings that were articulated and understood through being in place. In particular, the importance of the school in the town was highlighted through correspondence with the Department of Public Instruction, school returns, diary entries and newspaper articles. Similarly the prominence of the creek in both people’s movement across the landscape and as a prominent feature in the landscape was regularly remarked on. This movement was a key element of the creation of meaning. Movement across the broader Upper Burnett from mining town to mining town was one element of a shifting population across the region associated with gold mining. Typically people moved to and from towns at different times rather than progressing from one discovery to the next. The return of residents from Paradise to Mount Shamrock suggests people were attached to the region or a particular place, rather than present simply because of the gold. These towns were also part of a broader mining landscape. While Knapp (1998) argued that mining communities were not tied to place, it appears that in the Upper Burnett at least there was a deep attachment to place that kept people in the district. Even though there was a locus of activity that to some extent followed the mining discoveries, it was to nearby Paradise and Mount Steadman rather than the more distant Mount Morgan or Charters Towers that the majority of residents moved. Furthermore, the residents of Mount Shamrock were part of more than one scale of the community (Murphy 2008). They were simultaneously part of a local community, a broader mining community around the district, an extended regional area of the Upper Burnett, and part of Queensland’s colonial community. This “membership” is identifiable in transactions and relationships with other local mining towns such as Paradise, Chowey Mount Steadman, and further to Monal, Eidsvold and Gympie, and to the state capital of Brisbane. Evidence of the continuity of, occupation of, and attachment to, the landscape of Mount Shamrock can be observed in the Upper Burnett even today. Imprints remain of pastoral stations and mines that form a tapestry of place. More recently, the location has been seen as a place of historic significance. Narratives act to link the past to the present and create a sense of local identity. For example, the Paradise Courthouse was moved to Biggenden and is now used as a museum, while the Mount Steadman pub, first used at a 1900s commune, more recently became the School of Arts in Gayndah. Public spaces and places can also play a role in developing attachment to place through the reinforcement of community or cultural identity and by acting as “storehouses of memories” (Armstrong 2001:47). The school at Mount Shamrock provides a good example of this focus. Through the life of Mount Shamrock the school was a focal point of the community—a place where community events took place and the focus of regular community interventions to ensure

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the repair and continuity of the building was secured. The school site itself to this day continues as a focal point for visitors. Although few remnants remain, buses of visitors still come to the site, newspaper articles are written about the school, and stories about dances held at the school are firm vehicles for current imaginings of the past at Mount Shamrock.

Wilderness While new settlers developed attachment to the landscape of Mount Shamrock, they came to the place with ready formed views. An integral part of the tradition of colonial settlement by European Australians, as Lawrence (2003) has noted, is the discourse of bush identity. It has further been argued that ideas of wilderness are predicated on a dichotomy between nature and culture. Lawrence (2003:212) believes this concept of wilderness and the conquering of it results in “the mythical stature” given to the Australian outback and the colonial frontier. The creation of ideas of ‘wilderness’ and the depictions of the ‘bushman’ and ‘bush’ life have been seen as instrumental in the composition of national identity linked to the process of Federation in 1901 (Lawrence 2003; Lawrence and Davies 2011; Waterhouse 2000). This ideology was well established by the late nineteenth century; Elsie Bilbrough, for example, considered herself to have become a “Bushwoman” through her sojourn at Mount Shamrock (Bilbrough n.d.). One outcome of this imagined landscape was the perception that bush wilderness needed to be tamed (see for example Burke and Smith 2010; Johnson 2007:15; Lawrence 2003). Narratives of gold mining often focus on the arrival of a cohort of miners in the wilderness and the creation of frontier towns, although there is much to challenge that portrayal. Mining settlements like Cape River and the Palmer goldfields were indeed the first phase of European occupation in Far North Queensland but this was not the case for every mining town. Furthermore, even mining towns settled at the frontier of European expansion moved into an already active landscape imbued with meaning and purpose by local Aboriginal groups, occupied, known by Aboriginal names, and in places marked. Prior to the discovery of gold at Mount Shamrock, the “wilderness” had at least two phases of use—as pastoral land and, before that, as the lands of clans of local Aboriginal people. In the pre-European landscape, Aboriginal people would have considered Mount Shamrock and its surrounds as part of their traditional country, with attendant custodial and ritual responsibilities. Aboriginal groups occupied and moved through this country, as attested by the presence of artefacts, and the presence of a reasonably reliable water supply with the confluence of two creeks and a spring (The Brisbane Courier 30 July 1886; The Maryborough Chronicle 10 March 1887) would have contributed to the Indigenous meanings and understandings attributed to the locality that became Mount Shamrock. With colonial occupation, the landscape of the pastoral property established at Degilbo became understood as one small portion of a larger whole, interpreted

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relative to stock and their needs—fodder, water, protection from danger—and made up of many places of meaning. Near to the station was the Lady’s Mile, an area where the ladies of Degilbo would promenade for leisure. The Coach Road from Maryborough to Gayndah ran south of the station quarters, and nearby Irwin’s Hotel serviced coach patrons and locals. Chowey Creek was another of the early station runs and early discoveries of gold had been made there in 1870 (Rands 1886:4). The settlement of Degilbo was also in place at that time. The residents of the station had a reasonably active social life and held connections to Gayndah, Maryborough and Brisbane (Stewart and Stewart 1981). Morphy (1993:207) has asserted that new (predominantly European) settlers to the colonial frontier in Queensland brought with them a picture of understood landscapes that contrasted with the landscape they encountered. This mental image served to make the landscape they moved into unfamiliar and different. Although many European settlers at Mount Shamrock came from the region, early arrivals there regarded the landscape as wilderness, “nothing but hills and trees” (Bilbrough n.d.). One correspondent remarked on the transformation: On Shamrock hill, the company manager Mr Lalonde, has his residence which is now tenanted by his family, whose musical abilities and full-toned piano give a tone of civilisation to the place where but a few months since the unmelodious dingo howled his midnight dirge in undisturbed solitude (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887).

Aboriginal people also continued to use the area after both the arrival of pastoralists and the advent of the township. In some ways, this continuity of occupation may have added to or perpetuated perceptions of wilderness among the European settlers and contributed to the way in which the landscape was structured, both in terms of the exclusion of Aboriginal people, and in the construction of bounded spaces. Although already occupied as pastoral land, when the gold rush began at Mount Shamrock, the mines were the first areas of the landscape altered, with land cleared to enable pegging of claims in the first instance, and then to allow access to adits and shafts. Gangue material had to be piled in mullock heaps and ore was stockpiled for processing. In addition to this, the new residents had to clear ground for tent accommodation. When Homestead Leases were selected, each lot required the felling of trees for construction of dwellings together with clearance of the land for “improvement”. Settlers cut new roads through the scrub to the coach road and formed a number of pathways. As a reaction to perceived wilderness, the residents of Mount Shamrock deliberately bounded their space with extensive clearing and fencing and modified their gardens with imported ornamentals, thus creating and structuring “an inside” and “an outside” (Tilley 1994:17). They were effectively transforming what they saw as nature into culture—ostensibly making their land different from the external, natural land. In fact, the landscape was already imbued with a cultural dimension but they were unqualified to read it or even to recognise it. As discussed earlier, fencing was a sign of ownership and control of the land but could also represent a boundary of known and structured with unknown and wild. This striking of the settlement out of the bush would in itself construct an immediate and strong association and meaning in the landscape of the town. The residents’ perceptions of

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their landscape represented the Cartesian duality of nature versus culture: wild versus civilised (Head 2000), a duality not recognised in Indigenous worlds but one firmly embedded in the Western worldview. As they altered the landscape, they came to understand it perhaps in terms of a graduated ‘wildness’—a manifestation of Morphy’s (1993:209) changing frontiers. The town moved from wilderness to frontier town, to established community and known landscape and eventually, with the gradual changes of land clearance and the arrival of roads and rail, became familiar and “settled” (Morphy 1993:209). Ashmore (2004:257) has suggested that Euro-Americans had “relatively shallow genealogical ties to the landscape”. This attempts to quantify the time it takes to “make” a landscape, to experience, understand or embed meaning, to create a broader landscape in the sense of a range of places. It is reasonable to assume that rich and close attachment to place (based on living in a landscape) takes time and that the structuring of landscape would build through time, particularly through mechanisms of narrative and movement. However, from the beginning Mount Shamrock was part of a meaningful and engaged landscape. Affirming David’s (2002:31) assertions that “the use of space from the outset is social”, in reality, the landscape of Mount Shamrock had some meaning when European settlers arrived— albeit as a personally or group constructed “wilderness”. Furthermore the acts of travelling to the new township, of clearing the land and establishing dwellings, would have presented immediate experiences and understandings of the landscape. With mines almost instantaneously active on the hillside, and supply routes rapidly established, together with accompanying stories and experiences—the place the bullock carts got bogged, the main crossing of the creek—the landscape was imbued with new meaning and a palimpsest established; wilderness quickly overlaid by town and mining place. As Quirk (2007: 164) has shown, the inhabitants of the nearby mining town of Paradise adhered to “that constellation of social rights, obligations and expectations which was known as gentility”. At Mount Shamrock, history and archaeology also supports a picture of a complex social way of life that aligned to a “civilised” existence, conquering the wilderness by a combination of alteration and learning of landscape. While the wilderness may have occasionally crept in like “a snake in the Garden of Eden” (Bilbrough n.d.), the everyday environment was controlled, physically and socially, and conformed to a sense of order. Physically, the town was structured, “proper” houses constructed, gardens were fenced, pathways laid out, roads formed and reserves for the school and sporting facilities established. Even temporary accommodations were at times formalised, such as in the prominent location of the Mining Warden’s tent. Materially and socially the trappings of civilisation, the backdrop of everyday life, were sought and maintained, whether it was the positive influence of the “fair sex” (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887), the material comforts of dinnerware, decorative bowls and recreational accoutrements, or the provision of social institutions such as reading rooms, temperance societies and regular dances. These marks could as much be a reaction against wilderness as a mark of gentility, and more likely a combination of both—by conforming to ideals of gentility, wild(er)ness was kept at bay. The physical, social and

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ideological landscape was altered to meet understood/constructed identities—the residents of a mining town.

Different Understandings In addition to the palimpsest landscape of Aboriginal, pastoralist and mining traces, the different people living in the landscape of Mount Shamrock understood it differently. Miners and their families had diverse understandings, knowledge and stories, depending in part on their use of the land but also as a result of their differing memories, life experience, economic position, and their social and cultural beliefs. Multiple layers of meaning and understanding could be found in the landscape and these could vary through time. Some of these meanings continue to hold currency in the landscape today. Understandings of the landscape were dependent on the residents’ world views and were influenced by gender, age, occupation, life experience and so on. As already explored, along with mining, occupations included business owners, carters, blacksmiths, sawyers and teachers. Miners’ views of landscape included the town itself, and the mine hill—prominent in their line of sight as they walked to work along the main road of Shamrock—would have represented their work in much the same way as a factory gate would to those employed in manufacturing. As will be explored shortly, the miners also intimately knew and understood the mine workings, including the mineral processing areas and underground. In contrast, sawyers would have moved across a much broader extent of the landscape, felling timber outside the town boundaries and in the nearby bush; and shopkeepers, while linked more regularly to elsewhere, were primarily occupied in the township. There would also have been a range of feelings of “belonging” and “otherness” in the constructed landscape of Mount Shamrock. The exclusion of Aboriginal people is the most extreme case, but others would have experienced this relative outside/ inside. For example, sawyers and fencers were regarded by some as “strange and uncivilised” and appear to have camped on the outskirts of town (Bilbrough n.d.). The women and children of the town also had a different view of the landscape from the miners. They were familiar with the noise, the sirens, and the smell of the mine, if not the actual workings. They were intimately acquainted, however, with the effects of mine closure, the loss of regular income meaning for some families the removal of the breadwinner to another place to earn an income. For children, their understanding was also of a place of play, a place of school, learning and Sunday School, and a place where everyday chores, such as fetching water were undertaken. Some of these children also grew to take on work. The landscape women occupied embraced the social network in the town, where walks along the main street gave a particular perspective, probably related to the presentation and interior of other residences. They carried out domestic responsibilities of cooking, washing and sewing in a landscape of washing lines across the backyard (Bilbrough n.d.), creek-edge rubbish dumps and water fetched from the water reserve. Women also played an

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active role in maintaining boundaries in the landscape through decisions made at a household level about gardens and fences and the maintenance and appearance of these features. The meanings embedded in this landscape were not static—the landscape continued to change through time as people’s experience and engagement changed. So in addition to consideration of the time taken to establish meaning, it should be recognised that meanings cannot be static—meanings change just as context does because the landscape is composed through genealogical events, economic activities, the making of stories and journeys. By the end of 50 years of occupation, the landscape of Mount Shamrock had a different set of meanings from that with which it began—it became familiar and settled rather than newly hewn out of the wilderness. In particular, people gradually transformed from mining town residents to land-holders, taking on property outside the township and gradually settling there as farmers, the landscape coming to be understood instead as a place of agriculture. And the biographical events of over 50 years of residency had likewise been enacted in place, in Mount Shamrock and its surrounds. Hence, the way people read meaning into the landscape was not unidirectional. In addition to physical and constructed features and sites of events, the presence or absence of water was also significant, an integral part of the landscape. Water was a consumable resource, essential to everyday life, the experience of irregular events such as drought and floods giving the residents different understandings of the same features. Correspondents often remarked on the floods associated with seasonal rain and these had a marked effect on everyday life and movement in the landscape (The Brisbane Courier, 10 March 1887). The prolonged period of the Federation Drought had a different, but still profound, impact on the residents at Mount Shamrock. The lack of water prevented operation of the processing plant, made caring for livestock difficult and also impacted on everyday life. During the project fieldwork conducted in 2006, Queensland experienced the worst drought since the Federation drought in the early 1900s. This gave fieldworkers a clear view of Mount Shamrock during drought, the dry creek bed and burnt brown pasture startlingly different to the softer grassed appearance of a green landscape following rain.

Scales of Landscape Just as meanings in the landscapes of Mount Shamrock were not static, so the scales were variable as well. Contemporary maps emphasise the importance of movement and the spread of the domestic and agricultural settlement beyond the defined boundaries of the township. In the Parish of Chowey where Mount Shamrock was located, landholdings extended beyond the town itself. Parish maps show some of the roads in place at the time and the extent of the controlled land, with Homestead Leases spread across the whole of Mount Shamrock Goldfield Reserve. The landscape also incorporated pathways, tracks and coach and wagon roads. Further out from the immediate town surrounds, the cemetery (gazetted in 1907 (QSA 112646)),

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Irwin’s Hotel (also known as Fuller’s) and Degilbo Station, were all semi-­regular destinations for residents and the coach roads and stops were well known. By the 1910s, Chowey railhead was also part of the town landscape. A composite picture showing the features of the local landscape of Mount Shamrock can therefore be constructed (Fig. 7.6).

Fig. 7.6  Local landscape of Mount Shamrock including town, mine and surrounding features in the landscape (composed from QSA 628119, QSA 618781, QSA 112494, QSA 212646, Department of Mines CK1033)

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Paths, tracks and established roads to Biggenden, Paradise, Degilbo township and Didcot extended further out from the local landscape. Many of these roadways remain in use and the remnant pathways are observable in the landscape today. For example, three different cuttings distinguish different phases for the crossing on Didcot Creek at the southern end of the township. The Parish maps also demonstrate that the mining landscape of Mount Shamrock took in other mines in the locale. Mount Ophir and Allandale mines were situated within the Mount Shamrock Goldfield, the gold field of Paradise abutted the Mount Shamrock goldfield and the provisional fields at Chowey, Mount Steadman and Gebangle all added to the district’s mining landscape (Fig. 7.7). Links to other mining towns in the Upper Burnett further extended this network. This landscape nevertheless changed through time. In the earliest days of Mount Shamrock, the coach road from Maryborough to Gayndah, Irwin’s Hotel and Degilbo Station were features in early maps, while Chowey cemetery, Didcot township, the Gayndah railway line and Chowey railway station all appeared later. Changing leasehold arrangements for land are also apparent with Miners’ Homestead Leases gradually becoming agricultural and Prickly Pear leases. Paradise, although

Fig. 7.7  Locale Drawing, showing local goldfields, townships and other places (composed from QSA 628119, QSA 618781, QSA 112494, QSA 212646)

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more distant than Chowey, Degilbo and Biggenden, was a major component of the landscape of activity of Mount Shamrock. People regularly traversed the Mount Shamrock to Paradise coach road (the current road out of Mount Shamrock to Paradise appears to primarily follow the original route) and there were numerous social links between the towns. More generally, newspaper accounts clearly link the townships of Paradise, Biggenden, Degilbo, Stanton Harcourt and Didcot within the same landscape of social interaction. Therefore, the various scales of landscape at Mount Shamrock extended from a very local landscape encompassing the town, to a mining landscape, which included interactions with other mine fields, mining towns and other settlements through transport routes and social and commercial activities. There was however another, broader scale of landscape of interaction for Mount Shamrock. The mining towns of the Upper Burnett were not singular settlements but part of a broader network. In the late nineteenth century, this resulted in the continual movement of people around the region across time, mirrored by population growth and decline in individual settlements. Each mining community could be defined as a township (as per Newman et al. 2001:105), while the reach of administrative roles such as the mining wardens and magistrates extended across several towns, sometimes centred at the place of mining, at other times in larger nearby towns with administrative and political frameworks commonly administered from further away. For example, the mining warden for Mount Shamrock was for a time located at Gayndah (approximately 50 km away) despite a lack of mining there, while mining expertise and political influence could be found at Mt. Perry. Consequently the townships of Gayndah and Mount Perry were part of the broader landscape of interaction for the residents of Mount Shamrock. The location and routes of roads and rail lines beyond the immediate locality of Mount Shamrock also evolved through time. A hand-drawn map from 1860 (QSA 618781) shows the route of the coach road from Gayndah to Maryborough which preceded the establishment of Mount Shamrock. This same route was the basis for later roads and the route of the bitumen road today follows the same path. The road to Paradise was established with the development of that goldfield in 1889, and continued as an important tie between the two communities. The long-awaited advent of the rail line through Degilbo and Didcot in the early 1900s added another dimension to broader transport and constituted a place in the landscape even before the advent of the railway line itself, with the route marked on maps in anticipation well before the line was in existence. The links between the different mining towns, not just around Mount Shamrock but across the whole of the Upper Burnett, were clearly articulated in newspapers of the day. For example, an article in The Wide Bay and Burnett News refers directly to the links between Monal and the rest of the Upper Burnett that includes wide range of towns including Paradise, Eidsvold and Gayndah (The Wide Bay and Burnett News 2 May 1891). Together with movement of people and technology, these connections between informal communities extending across several settlements

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(Prangnell and Mate 2011) served to construct another scale of landscape at a district or regional level, a landscape that changed with the ebb and flow with the development and dispersing of separate mining settlements. Broader social associations with places further away included links to Maryborough, Gympie, the Queensland colonial (and then state) capital of Brisbane, the New South Wales capital of Sydney, and overseas, tied into the overarching political, economic and administrative framework of the colony. The loci of interaction for the residents of Mount Shamrock were demonstrated through the transport connections between towns with tracks, roads and coach routes regularly used by residents and visitors alike. The diaries of both Harvey Johns and Elsie Bilbrough in particular showed the range of interactions between Mount Shamrock residents and people from other places, as well as the journeys taken to neighbouring towns, on foot or horseback, and further afield by coach, rail and steamer. These interactions complemented the influences from elsewhere felt within the township, where everyday life and business in Mount Shamrock was in part influenced by events at other mining settlements, and impacted by administrative functions from elsewhere. With the exception of Elsie Bilbrough’s diary, evidence of the interactions within the town, from newspaper accounts and administrative files, presented a primarily male viewpoint. They detail interactions in and around Mount Shamrock and with identities, both informal and official, from other places. Some details of women’s interactions were identifiable from these sources, focused largely on activities such as provision of supplies, journeys undertaken and social undertakings. Some of these social networks were geographically remote from the people of Mount Shamrock but had a spatial element, influenced by ease of transport, regularity of contact, spheres of experience, cohort of community and so on. Places such as Maryborough and Brisbane could be considered relationally closer than places geographically situated nearer such as Mount Morgan and Charters Towers. It is therefore possible to construct a conceptual sphere of interaction where distance is not the primary mediator (Fig. 7.8). This extended landscape to Brisbane and Britain, in particular, were part of an imagined landscape, influenced by travel to and from, constant administrative and business contact, and as a market for, and source of, goods. Returning to concepts of scales of landscape discussed earlier, these varying geographical and imagined landscape can be seen to operate across local, regional, national and even global scales. In the relationship within and between communities, influenced by ideas of identity, and intersecting with global circulations of ideas, technologies, consumables and cultural beliefs and values, the colonial context of the political, social and economic landscapes of Mount Shamrock can be seen to be non-static, multi-scalar, encompassing physical, experienced and imagined bounds, and possessing a multiplicity of meanings in temporal and spatial rhythm.

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Fig. 7.8  Graphical representation of landscape spheres of interaction, where relational networks rather than geographic distance is the primary mediator for relative conceptual proximity

Experiencing the Landscape While conducting fieldwork at Mount Shamrock, there were constant opportunities to reflect on the landscape we were working in. Whether it was reflections about the physical experience—how hot it was, how wet or dry it was, the stickiness of the flies, the weariness at the end of a day of labour, how hard it was to walk up the steep hill to the mine—or reflections about the experience of those living there in the past, an experiential understanding of the landscape developed. Walking through the landscape gave a specific perspective of the temperature, the road in and out, the distance from particular places and the carry of sounds. Noise travelled in the quiet of the day and we could hear vehicles coming for some distance. This in itself emphasised a bodily engagement with the landscape (see de Certeau 1984; Rainbird

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2008; Tilley 1994:206). We also experienced different times of day and the different seasons. In particular, as the fieldwork seasons in 2006 were carried out at the height of the drought, it provided a unique understanding of the landscape in similar conditions to those experienced when Mount Shamrock was in operation during the Federation Drought a century earlier. The lack of any running water was shockingly evident, as was the poor feed for livestock and the constantly empty threat of rain. Another major feature in experiencing the landscape at Mount Shamrock was the proximity of the hillside where the mine was located. The hill is an imposing feature, which clearly dominates the town flat, even today (Fig. 7.9). The path to the

Fig. 7.9  Mine hill as viewed from the town flat, note Hoop Pine in middle foreground, located on Pierce Williams’ property

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mine was also part of our own experience of that landscape—on first visiting it seemed a long distance to the mine but after a number of trips it became much shorter. The relative closeness of town and mine became obvious. This led to reflections on the likelihood of the noise and smell of the works carrying across the town. Similarly the course of the creek through the middle of the town (gazetted as a water reserve) would have made it a prominent feature, remorseless either in reminding residents of the lack of water in the dry season or in being the cause of innumerable floods, making living conditions difficult in the wet season. The town being about 300 m upstream of the dam and the workings it is easy to imagine that the creek was also a metaphorical umbilical cord connecting town and mine, the flow of water so necessary for both living and operating the mine, a view apparently reflected in contemporary newspaper accounts that gave the small creek prominence in the landscape. The other element of moving through the landscape during fieldwork is the mirror of learning the landscape. Although the context of archaeological fieldwork was different and the time frame much shorter and less permanent than those of the residents of Mount Shamrock, the process of closely surveying in the landscape illustrated a gradual increase in understanding and knowledge of that landscape. Exploring further each visit, learning the topography and environment, experiencing the seasonal change, regularly traversing the close-in landscape, and travelling to and from the site mirrored some of the experiences of settlers coming to a new place. Settlers would have gradually cleared the land, traversed further afield, interacted with livestock, become familiar with the walk along the main street and up to the mine, and travelled the roads to Paradise, Biggenden, Degilbo and Gayndah much as we did. This experience provided an additional element to the interpretation of the landscape. Several locals visited while we were in the field, each bringing their own stories of the place, their own reading and perspective. These were often associated with oral histories passed down from family members or acquaintances that had some memory of Mount Shamrock. Most reminiscences were associated with the final days of the township with some locals or their parents having lived at Mount Shamrock in the 1920s and 30s. Two groups of informants were from families who had direct connections to the earlier days of Mount Shamrock, the Berries, the current landowners, and the Bayntuns now residing in Maryborough. Along with invaluable genealogical information, they provided several family stories of life at Mount Shamrock. Finally, as Bradley (2003) has suggested, the process of surveying led to a richer interpretation as we became more familiar with the landscape we worked in. Stones resolved into an alignment along a gradually revealed roadway, with continued observations timber identified as fence posts resolved itself into fence lines, and haphazard stumps gradually appeared in patterns, with rain highlighting clear (but normally not easily identifiable) depressions that changed individual stumps into part of a defined structure. Historical maps and plans also informed interpretation in the field as we looked them over in-situ, seeing more detailed nuances, of

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proximities, finer details and linking people to place—Berrie’s hotel, Parry’s house, Denzler’s block, Irwin’s hotel. This first-hand experience of the landscape is part of what has brought me to the views I hold about Mount Shamrock. It is however important when making these interpretations to be self-reflexive. My own belief systems and view of this past is coloured by my upbringing in a first generation European-Australian family, interested in the “romanticism” of the colonial frontier. This epistemology has to be constantly filtered in any constructions of the landscape and possible subjectivity reflected on. The corollary of this, however, is that despite the different context of the twenty-first century, my life experiences as the offspring of British migrants and my own experience in the mining industry in remote locations may give me a worldview that in some ways reflects that of the residents of Mount Shamrock. Similarly, the views and belief systems of others conducting fieldwork and with whom I have discussed interpretations of Mount Shamrock have to be considered. There are clearly different forces at play in the understanding of a PhD student examining capitalist venturers in the late nineteenth century or that of a third generation resident of the Burnett district whose grandfather passed on stories of the local dance at the Shamrock school. One part of this analysis involved experiential data. To me, a visit to Mount Shamrock still echoes with remnants of the past—in my mind I can hear the stamper battery and feel the discomfort of nineteenth century clothes in the heat as I walk up the “main street”. I imagine the miner trudging wearily up the hill to the mine site, and as I record stumps at the school, I can imagine kids up to mischief behind the “dunny” (outdoor toilet). My experience of mine sites influences my perception of the sensory landscape; noise, smell, water, movement. The stories recounted by local residents further influence this picture. It is my interpretation, based on my experiences: running around school playgrounds, walking in the heat of a Queensland summer and experiencing the smells and sounds of working on mines. My view is a very personal one. However, what has led me to the interpretations I am presenting, along with my own experiences, are the journeys across this landscape and the stories revealed about Mount Shamrock. Stories heard from local inhabitants, read in newspaper accounts and from Elsie Bilbrough’s own words and, most importantly, gleaned from the archaeological evidence that has provided an insight into a nineteenth century mining town. Finally, as archaeological researchers we hold yet another view of the landscape of Mount Shamrock. While we try to imagine the landscape of a mining town, the buildings are gone and the machines are silent. My perspectives are also influenced by the fieldwork conducted at Mount Shamrock in terms of the parts of the landscape I moved across, how I moved across them, the people I was with, and how I viewed the landscape from these positions. Researchers also have different understandings of the past, constructed from their own world view. My understanding of Mount Shamrock is informed by a personal view of the historical context of Queensland, particularly as it relates to mining, and this view is constructed from primary documentary evidence and the body of research that has been conducted on Queensland history.

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Contemporary meanings can reinforce past understandings of the landscape and change those meanings if one reading is privileged over another. Now, every day, cattle walk across the land where Mount Shamrock stood, part of the current use of the landscape. Yet we can still understand Mount Shamrock as a mining town, the remnants imbuing the landscape with that meaning, despite 70 years of use as an agricultural landholding. There is a palimpsest of meaning embedded in the land, identifiable in the archaeological remnants—Aboriginal stone tools sit in a pasture that was originally part of the Degilbo run, adjacent to fence-lines from the old township and rails from the mine. In some ways, the understandings of the landscape, embedded through the settlers of Mount Shamrock, have continued long past the existence of the actual town. These understandings remain today with visitors to the town flat, the school or the mine still envisioning an imagined landscape of a thriving gold mining town.

Summary Across Mount Shamrock, meaning was embedded in the landscape through a number of means—genealogical, economic, events (including loss), journeys or movement, narrative or stories (encompassing ideational or imagined landscapes), and through the act of altering or creating the landscape. As a result of the meanings embedded in the landscape, people were attached to the landscape of Mount Shamrock and particular places in it. This attachment was manifested in their continued occupation of the landscape after mining had gone and their movement within the limited boundaries of the region. Alterations of the landscape—such as the wresting of land from the wilderness, the provision of the cemetery, the naming of places—all acted to embed meaning and attachment and create connections to particular locatins. Keen (2004:397) stated that in Aboriginal society “environments provided resources and enabling conditions…. [while] social institutions provided instruments for acting in relation to people and the world”. This is equally as valid for nineteenth century gold-mining communities. If the environment of Upper Burnett provided the resources and enabling conditions (the presence of gold, initial European settlement, the presence of adjacent networks and the general context of gold exploration and mining throughout Queensland), then the influence of social (cultural) institutions are observable in the way these people lived in the world (cf Thomas 2001:172–3). Social institutions also “provide[d] instruments” in terms of gold-mining technology available. It is accepted that the presence of precious metals made the mining settlements and shaped their location. However, consideration as to whether town layout was the result of an imposed structure or individual agency, and whether that agency was an intentional reaction against societal constraints, suggests a tension in landscape between aspiration and (in)equality (Thomas 2001:166). People were operating within the conflicting pressures and desires of cultural rules and personal aspirations of social mobility. Individual

References

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agency is observable as people chose where they put towns (albeit within some proximity of the deposit), chose where their domestic land lease was and where they situated their houses on that lease. Furthermore, the people who settled Mount Shamrock actively created, maintained and assigned meaning to the landscape they occupied. Returning to concepts of landscape as “constructed”, “conceptional” and “ideational” (Knapp and Ashmore 1999: 10–13) it is possible to establish how the landscapes of Mount Shamrock were constructed. Structuring of landscape occured in the provision of areas of activity, together with the construction of roads and paths, and places like cricket grounds. The landscape was also conceptualised—firstly with ideas of wilderness and then as a landscape of mining. The ideational—imagined—landscapes included the broadest scale—the landscape of further afield, ideas of other places as understood from stories, such as those that encompassed Britain. And the more recent imaginings, of gold-mining landscapes as inhabited by single miners given to wild behaviours, contribute another ideational landscape motivated by concepts of bush identity. In contrast, the landscape of Mount Shamrock has been shown as a more complex and intricate social landscape with active participation in the colonial enterprise, considered use of material culture in the construction of social identity and aspirations of social mobility, combined with limited geographic mobility. Added to this, the landscape was one of multiple understandings, constructed by the context of settlement, by the many viewpoints held by the range of residents, by the myriad of experiences, narratives and journeys of the residents, and not least by the context of Mount Shamrock as a gold-mining settlement.

References Alderman, D.H. 2016. Place, naming and the interpretation of cultural landscapes. In The Ashgate research companion to heritage and identity, ed. B.  Graham and P.  Howard, 195–213. Abingdon: Routledge. Armstrong, H. 2001. Overview of marginal groups in Queensland. In Thematic study of the cultural landscape of Queensland, ed. J.  Sims, 35–41. Brisbane: Cultural Landscape Research Unit: QUT. Ashmore, W. 2004. Social archaeologies of landscape. In Companion to social archaeology, ed. L. Meskell and R.W. Preucel, 255–271. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Bilbrough, E. n.d. An extract from the diary of Elsie Bilbrough: First teacher at mount shamrock, 1890–1892. Unpublished manuscript held by the Biggenden Historical Society. Bradley, R. 2003. Seeing things: Perception, experience and the constraints of excavation. Journal of Social Archaeology 3 (2): 151–168. Burke, H., and C.  Smith. 2010. Vestiges of colonialism: Manifestations of the culture/nature divide. In Cultural Heritage Management: A Global Perspective, ed. P. Mauch Messenger and G.S. Smith, 21–37. Australian Heritage Management. University Press of Florida. David, B. 2002. Landscapes, rock-art and the dreaming: An archaeology of preunderstanding. London: Leicester University Press. de Certeau, M. 1984. The practice of everyday life. Berkeley: University of California Press. Dunstan, B. 1911. Geological survey reports. Queensland Government Mining Journal 12: 169–173.

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Gosden, C. 2004. Archaeology and colonialism: Cultural contact form 5000 BC to the present. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Head, L. 2000. Cultural landscapes and environmental change. London: Hodder Headline Group. Johns, H.W. 1892–1942. Harry Winefred Johns papers. Brisbane: John Oxley Library. Johnson, M. 2007. Ideas of landscape. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. Keen, I. 2004. Aboriginal economy and society: Australia at the threshold of colonisation. Melbourne and New York: Oxford University Press. Knapp, A.B. 1998. Social approaches to the archaeology and anthropology of mining. In Social approaches to an industrial past: The archaeology and anthropology of mining, ed. A.B. Knapp, V.C. Pigott, and E.W. Herbert, 1–23. London: Routledge. Knapp, A.B., and W.  Ashmore. 1999. Archaeological landscapes: Constructed, conceptualized, ideational. In Archaeologies of landscape: Contemporary perspectives, ed. W. Ashmore and B.A. Knapp, 1–30. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Lawrence, S. 2003. At home in the bush: Material culture and Australian nationalism. In Archaeologies of the British: Explorations of identity in Great Britain and its colonies, 1600–1945, ed. S. Lawrence, 211–223. London: Routledge. Lawrence, S., and P. Davies. 2011. An archaeology of Australia since 1788. New York: Springer. Mate, G., and C. Pocock. 2017. A disconnected journey. International Journal of Heritage Studies. https://doi.org/10.1080/13527258.2017.1378902. Metcalfe, B. 1998. Gayndah Communes. Rockhampton: Central Queensland University Press. Morphy, H. 1993. Colonialism, history and the construction of place: The politics of landscape in Northern Australia. In Landscape: Politics and perspective, ed. B.  Bender, 205–439. Oxford: Berg. Murphy, K. 2008. Mill point: Community and identity in colonial Queensland. Paper presented at the 6th world archaeological congress, Dublin. Newman, R., D. Cranstone, and C. Howard-Davis. 2001. The historical archaeology of Britain, c.1540–1900. Sutton: Thrupp, Stroud, Gloucestershire. Prangnell, J., and G. Mate. 2011. Kin, fictive kin and aspirational movement: Working class heritage of the Upper Burnett. International Journal of Heritage Studies 17 (4): 318–330. https:// doi.org/10.1080/13527258.2011.577965. Quirk, K. 2007. The Victorians in ‘Paradise’: Gentility as social strategy in the archaeology of colonial Australia. Unpublished PhD thesis, School of Social Science, University of Queensland, Brisbane. Rainbird, P. 2008. The body and the senses: Implications for landscape archaeology. In Handbook of landscape archaeology, ed. B. David and J. Thomas, 263–270. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press Inc. Rands, W.H. 1886. Report on the gold and silver deposits in the neighbourhood of Mount Shamrock. Geological Survey of Queensland Publication 25. Stewart, G., and F. Stewart. 1981. Biggenden’s beginnings: The pastoral background. Kingaroy: Biggenden Historical Society. Taçon, P. 1999. Identifying ancient sacred landscapes in Australia: From physical to social. In Archaeologies of landscape: Contemporary perspectives, ed. W.  Ashmore and A.B.  Knapp, 33–57. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Thomas, J. 2001. Archaeologies of place and landscape. In Archaeological theory today, ed. I. Hodder, 163–186. Cambridge: Polity. Tilley, C. 1994. A phenomenology of landscape: Places, paths and monuments. Oxford: Berg. Waterhouse, R. 2000. Australian legends: Representations of the Bush, 1813–1913. Australian Historical Studies 115: 201–221.

Chapter 8

The Industry of Mount Shamrock: A Mine of Great Promise

Mining is a leviathan. Activities associated with mining and mineral processing spread well beyond the confines of a mine itself and consume water, wood, ore and chemicals. The distribution and variety of remnant features of mining at Mount Shamrock provide information about the way mining and processing areas worked together, demonstrating the proximity and relationships between components, and highlight the importance of the entire landscape of a mine, not just the prominent features such as mine shafts and stamper batteries. The following analyses provide a textured picture of work in the Mount Shamrock mine, with activity and movement that extended to the township and beyond, occupying the entire landscape. An integral component of mining at Mount Shamrock was the complex use of local resources. Their exploitation profoundly affected the environment. This included not only the ore body, but timber, water and land. In turn, the environment itself affected mining: flood, drought and lack of resources impacting the successful exploitation of the ore body. In an extension of the relationship between mining and environment, the occupation of the landscape by miners was reliant on, and created, landscape learning—the ore body, climate, sources of raw material such as timber and clay, and so on, were all part of understanding the landscape. There was also a cultural understanding of the landscape of mining, and the settlers at Mount Shamrock understood this landscape in the context of a mining venture. The mine at Mount Shamrock cannot however be considered as simply a company mine; instead the more complex interplay of single miners, companies, consortia and tribute miners meant that the development of the mine and associated workings reflected a range of influences that are still observable archaeologically. Most prominent of these, in a technological sense, was the impact of social influences on the industrial activities undertaken.

Lionel Towner, Mining Warden Annual Report Department of Mines 1896, p. 85. © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 G. Mate, Mining the Landscape, Contributions To Global Historical Archaeology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-12906-3_8

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 ocial Influences on Industrial Methods S and Technologies Used Social factors influence the selection of technologies used, be they related to social transmissions of technological knowledge or adaptation, or through the influences of individuals and communities in decision making. In examining nineteenth century mining and mineral processing, the technologies used can be assessed for their suitability for the type of ore being processed, and can be compared to the range of equipment readily available at that time. Assessments of the technical effectiveness of methods and how accessible the information about the technology is to those using it helps identify these factors. Previous knowledge held by managers, miners and process workers may also influence the selection of equipment and the way it is used. Economic issues can affect choices, including factors such as whether production is small- or large-scale, the accessibility of funds, and the organisation of labour. Social and familial alliances and networks, as well as links to the wider community and socio-political contexts, in turn affect the organisation of labour. All of these relationships shape movement to and from mining towns. Indeed, Palmer (2004:2) has suggested that the inter-relationship of industrial sites shows the systems of labour organisation reflected by land ownership. The corollary of this also applies, where patterns of land ownership are borne out in these patterns of working relationships. Finally, there is a degree of reciprocity between the influence of people on technology and that of technology on people, observable in the social landscape. The archaeological remnants of the mining and processing area at Mount Shamrock, like many industrial sites, signal the extent of infrastructure across the landscape. This includes the key parts of the operation—the location of mine workings, and their relation to mineral and chemical processing facilities—together with auxiliary facilities such as the assay office, stores, an office and potential storage sites that supported the mine. Beyond the immediate location of the mine, remnant roads and tramways, pathways and waterways are also identifiable. Analysis of the spatial distribution of these remnants encompassing both mining and mineral processing activities, and the remnants themselves, reveals changing technologies through 50 years of operation. The way the ore body was understood, the processing equipment selected and the approaches used in mining and processing all bear testimony to social influences.

Mining Mining at Mount Shamrock commenced with an influx of people pegging and working individual leases. By 1887, 11 leases were firmly established on the hill (Fig. 5.1), although only the Mount Shamrock mine continued to be worked in the long term. Archaeological survey identified ten shafts/tunnels, four of which were

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consistently worked during the first year of activity at Mount Shamrock. The imprint of mining on the physical landscape—the presence of the open cut mine, the shafts at Kent’s Knob, the main shaft and the haul tunnel adit—shows the proximity, layout and relative distribution of the mines. The number of small-scale shafts in addition to the major workings speak to the extensive coverage of mining across the entire hillside. These mines, operated by a number of small local syndicates, would have presented as a hive of industry in the first 2 years of mining. From the outset, these syndicates represented alliances reflected in the social landscape. Although the location of the first lease was directly related to the gold deposit, individual and group decisions influenced the pegging of subsequent claims. The location of the Prospectors Claim influenced the orientation of the remaining leases as miners progressively pegged claims radiating from the main ore body, trying to “follow” the deposit, as was customary with quartz-based veined deposits such as those that occurred at Gympie. This was not suitable for the type of deposit at Mount Shamrock. The subsequent amalgamation of claims also involved individuals making personal decisions. These factors directly affected the distribution of mines across the hillside. Moreover, the decisions (taken individually or in groups) regarding where to mine and what constituted a “promising show” impacted the likely success of these ventures. Not all miners were experienced, and this influenced the rate of progress of mining operations (Parry-Okeden in The Brisbane Courier 18 August 1886). The resulting slow rate of progress was in part caused by a number of local people—coming from the surrounding district—taking up mining despite a lack of knowledge. These claims across the hillside of Mount Shamrock meant less ground was available to mobile professional miners moving to the deposit, although a number of experienced miners from Gympie did take up ground in syndicates. Added to this, the holders of mining leases were often not present, and were therefore unable to control the operations, instead relying on local managers. Social factors were also at play in the mineral processing activities. The locations of processing equipment in relation to the mine shafts were partly the result of practical considerations such as access to water but were also clearly the result of individual decisions as there were any number of possible locations for a stamper battery (as was indeed the case with two different plant locations at different times). These choices had repercussions for subsequent decisions about mining such as the provision and location of shafts, haul tunnels and roads. The approach to mining the deposit and the actual methods employed can be identified from the remnants of the mine shafts, adit and glory hole, while contemporary accounts of the mining shed further light on how mining proceeded and the accepted wisdoms of both the nature of the deposit and the best approach to use. Particularly in the early years of mining, the rich parts of the deposit were mined preferentially, pursuing a (non-existent) “vein” and leaving lower grade but still gold bearing ore behind (Rands 1890). Given the climate of the 1880s, there was a strong desire to have the mine perceived as rich (to meet both the economic needs to ensure ongoing financial support, and the colonial rhetoric around the importance and success of mining to Queensland), another factor that led miners to go after the

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higher-grade ore, rather than pursuing more controlled exploration and mining. If this deposit had been worked in the early days using underground room and pillar stoping (a well-established technique in the nineteenth century) the gold in the deposit as a whole could have been realised, giving reasonable grades through the life of the mine. The approach to mining at Mount Shamrock instead demonstrated a lack of understanding of the nature of the deposit and meant that the miners and managers failed to work the deposit economically. At the time, the mining methods used were criticised by Mining Wardens and Government Geologists, who suggested managers exhibited insufficient understanding of the ore-body, and failed to undertake adequate exploration work (Ball 1901; Dunstan 1911). As the development of the mine progressed, the decisions made regarding the direction of mining, and where to place haul roads and tunnels, were often the purview of individual mine managers who seem not have been experienced with this type of deposit and did not understand the geology of the mine. At other times small groups of tributers, probably lacking broad mining experience, but having practical experience of the ore body, made decisions that influenced the development of the mine. For all undertaking mining however, there was an element of “landscape learning”. With time, the nature of the ore body, the effects of climate (including the impacts of rain and drought) and the relative proximity of sources of raw material became better known. Tribute miners such as Parry, Williams and Bow who stayed through the life of the town benefited from their experience of this landscape. During its operational life, the economic climate of Mount Shamrock varied and the mine saw large scale investments by single companies interspersed with a variety of syndicates, and times where tribute miners were just making wages. This affected the ongoing profitability and overall continuity of operations in the mine and processing plants. Although not of the scale or technology of modern operations, effective mining in metalliferous mines was well established by the late nineteenth century in Australia, South Africa and the USA. In contrast to these operations, mining at Mount Shamrock can be seen as small-scale amateurish operations undertaken in a colonial outpost. Individual managers and then tribute miners approached mining in their own way, informed by personal experience (or lack thereof) rather than by a measured approach using accepted mining extraction methods based on adequate assessment of the nature of the ore body. The variability of operations at Mount Shamrock can therefore be seen as a result of individual agency. The action and agency of individual miners and managers influenced the distribution of mines across the landscape and also affected the viability of mining operations.

Mineral Processing In the same way that mining approaches are identifiable, the methods used for mineral processing, the changing chains of operation through time, and the spatial extent of different phases of operation at Mount Shamrock are all distinguishable in

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archaeological remnants of machinery and their foundations. Although processing methods varied through time, the change was non-linear, with some processes being introduced and discarded, and others continuing through time as a mainstay of treatment. In the first instance there was a “want of proper machinery in the colony to treat these ores” (Annual Report Department of Mines 1897) and the earliest processing equipment was developed and cast locally at the Tooth and Co. Vulcan Foundry in Maryborough, from plans of plants elsewhere in Australia and overseas (The Maryborough Chronicle 27 July 1887). The first phase of the mineral processing operation was located at the base of the hillside. Ore was transported from the mine via a timber rail line to the mineral processing works, where it was loaded into ore bins. The ore was then fed through a linear system of crushing and gravity separation (Fig. 8.1), with amalgamation at several points in the process. The amalgam was retorted in a furnace and the gold sponge formed from that process accumulated for smelting into an ingot. Tailings were stockpiled for subsequent treatment. The plant was operated by a timber-fired boiler, with water supplied from the dam on Didcot Creek. The processing methods used, while typical of gold winning methods in much of Australia, were largely unsuited to the ore at Mount Shamrock. The deposit at Mount Shamrock was formed through igneous and hydrothermal events that resulted in a high degree of mineralisation, including the presence of pyrites (Ball 1901; Dunstan 1911; Williams 1991:11–13). The complexity of the ore meant that there were inherent difficulties in treatment, and the application of what were standard mineral processing methods for the time—gravity separation and amalgamation— were not effective. The presence of a high proportion of sulphides would have affected the gravity separation process both on the tables and through the concentrators, as the association of gold with sulphides meant there was less differential in the density of the different streams making them less easily separated. The presence of sulphides would also have adversely affected the amalgamation process, as mercury does not readily whet gold associated with sulphides. As a result of this, much of the gold was going to tailings, rather than being collected, and in the words of the Shamrock Correspondent, “Tailings and gold were synonymous” there (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 Sept 1902). The initial selection of basic crushing and gravity separation equipment and the location of the early battery point towards the influence and expertise of one individual—the mine manager Joseph Lalonde. From the location of archaeological remnants identified as the site of the first battery, it is clear that the situation of the plant was unsuitable. The position of the battery on the flats suggests Lalonde had little experience of gold mining, as placing a gravity fall process on the flat rather than on the hill, and at some distance from the haul tunnel (requiring additional transport of the ore) is an impractical decision. In particular the location made it difficult for tailings to run off, resulting in some technical difficulties (Ball 1901:8). Government reports and newspaper accounts indicate that this one individual had a clear influence on both the type of processing selected and the subsequent configuration of the plant. These decisions had a direct effect on the operation and profitability of the mine that continued to some degree after he left.

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Fig. 8.1  Flow diagram of initial mineral processing

In recognition of gold losses, the tailings were stockpiled until a suitable treatment method was available. Although a variety of treatises were available in printed form and in the popular press, the company sent to London for advice, which came back with a recommendation to use chlorination. Along with the installation of chlorination tanks to treat the tailings, mineral processing equipment was at that

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time supplemented with Berdan pans for grinding, and additional gravity separation equipment in the form of four Brown and Stanfield concentrators and two additional Frue Vanner concentrator tables (Fig. 8.2). Berdan pans would have made the gravity separation more effective, as the grinding of material to a smaller size freed more

Fig. 8.2  Flow diagram of 1890s mineral processing with chlorination treatment

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gold from the sulphides. Additional gravity separation equipment in the form of concentrators and shaking tables would have further improved separation of the different mineral streams and provided better concentration of the gold. This improvement in efficiency suggests there was a better understanding of the ore body developing and it is significant that these changes occurred when James Higgins took over as manager. Although the presence of a manager with a greater understanding of the principles of mining and gold processing seems to have improved efficiency, inherent difficulties in separating sulphide rich ores remained. The major investment of capital in 1903 resulted in a new mineral processing plant being established closer to the main shaft. The remnants from this phase of operation are those in the Upper Processing area and are the most substantial extant at Mount Shamrock, despite the fact that the scale of production was smaller than the previous plant. This new processing plant was more efficient with respect to winning gold, featuring a combination of mineral processing and chemical treatments. The equipment was set up in series with crushing by a stamper battery, grinding carried out in a Huntingdon Mill, followed by gravity separation using Wilfley tables to separate the mineral rich ore from the tailings. Amalgamation was used to extract the gold from the concentrate. The tailings were then treated in-line using cyanide solution (Fig. 8.3). A number of social influences on the adoption of mineral processing technology can therefore be seen at Mount Shamrock. The effect of individual agency is evident in decisions about which technology to adopt, where to locate equipment and, in the case of Joseph Lalonde, a lack of knowledge about how to effectively use the technology selected (including appropriate capacities). External factors including the influence of absent directors on the decisions of what technology to adopt, the availability of equipment and access to capital to purchase it, all contributed to the approach to mineral processing and the relative effectiveness of those processes.

Chemical Treatments In a similar manner to the decisions around selection of mineral processing equipment, the social factors at play are particularly clear in the adoption of the chemical processes of chlorination and cyanidation for the treatment of tailings at Mount Shamrock. These can be summarised as a readiness to adopt new technologies, a lack of expertise in using them and a failure to understand the nature of a complex ore. Chlorination In 1889 the Mount Shamrock Gold Mining Co. installed an “expensive” chlorination tank system on the hillside, together with a furnace for roasting the “Mundic” ore (Annual Report Department of Mines 1890), in an attempt to retrieve gold from

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Fig. 8.3  Flow diagram of 1900s mineral processing with in-line cyanide treatment

the tailings. However this approach proved largely unsuccessful. This lack of success was attributed locally to the imposition of chlorination from the London based proprietors, although in reality the tailings were tested locally prior to proceeding with the installation of the plant and declared suitable for chlorination. However, the processing requirements for the ore and the process itself do appear to have been poorly understood and applied. Chlorination as a treatment method is generally unsuitable for sulphide rich ore such as those found at Mount Shamrock. The ore at Mount Shamrock also contained a high proportion of bismuth, which would have had an additional adverse effect on

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the ability of chlorine to win the gold. There was obviously recognition of the difficulty of treating the ore as a roasting furnace was installed as part of the plant, but the furnace was slated as being for bismuth removal rather than to oxidise sulphides. This points to a relative lack of knowledge about the chemical treatment of gold ores and a particular lack of understanding of processing for highly mineralised ore, despite this having been a well-documented problem with recognised solutions in the nineteenth century. An Assay Office was installed at the same time as the chlorination plant (Annual Report Department of Mines 1890) and the archaeological remnants point to this being a reasonably substantial building. There is also documentary substantiation of the presence of assayers at different times in the life of Mount Shamrock who would have been able to contribute some knowledge of chemical composition of the ore, and possibly effective treatment regimens to improve recovery rates. The chlorination plant however only worked for 2 years before it was shut down, representing a massive investment in wholly unsuitable technology. Once again, external influences, including the acceptance of the perceived expertise underpinning advice from London, together with a lack of experience locally in the application of this process, and a failure by managers and operators to understand the effect of the complexity of the Mount Shamrock ore on these processes, had a direct impact on the lack of success of the chlorination plant. Cyaniding Two different types of cyanide treatment were used at Mount Shamrock: in-line cyanide treatment of tailings as evidenced by the tanks found in the Upper Processing Area (Fig. 8.4), and batch cyanide treatment of stockpiled tailings, as the remnants

Fig. 8.4  In-line cyanide tanks, Upper Processing Area

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in the Lower Cyanide Area show. The same basic process was used in both areas. Like chlorination, cyanide treatment was a chemical process for the recovery of gold lost to tailings as a result of inefficient gravity separation processes. The first attempt to treat tailings with cyanide in the district was undertaken at Paradise in 1896 by a self-styled “expert” (Annual Report Department of Mines 1897). Although this met with failure, a local chemist was next to attempt cyanidation, meeting with modest success. Paradise miner, Fredrick Learoyd, then made a successful practical treatment of tailings. Learoyd was at that time a mine manager at Paradise but could be considered a peer of the miners at Mount Shamrock. His success encouraged others in the district, including a syndicate at Mount Shamrock, to begin treating their tailings. In 1901 tribute miners took out a new mining lease and installed cyanide tanks for the treatment of tailings (Annual Report Department of Mines 1901:100). The installation of these tanks by tribute miners, rather than by a company, is an interesting event in that it demonstrates that these miners were making infrastructure changes, constructing cyanide tanks and purchasing boilers, despite apparently having only made the equivalent of wages for their efforts up until that time (Annual Report Department of Mines 1901:100). There were several episodes of cyanide treatment conducted on stockpiled tailings from 1901 onwards, possibly to the north of the original battery area. By 1902 the lease for the mine had passed to a new syndicate who invested capital, setting up new machinery in the Upper Processing Area. This major revitalisation of the mine was directly attributed to the success of cyaniding by the tribute miners (Annual Report Department of Mines 1902:14). The new operation commenced using only mineral processing, amalgamation and smelting to process gold concentrates but within a year, cyanide treatment was adopted. The 1902 cyanide process may also have used zinc precipitation to return the gold from solution. The third major phase of cyanide operation at Mount Shamrock was the installation of cyanide tanks to treat tailings on Didcot Creek (the Lower Cyanide Area). Photographs of the cyanide tanks (Figs.  8.5 and 8.6) are attributed to the 1930s; however the mine report for 1934 suggests they were refitting at this time; and in 1923 the original construction of a slimes plant to treat old tailings is documented. Careful control of a number of variables is required to carry out cyanidation successfully. This type of control, of chemical concentrations and flow rates, would have occurred in more professional cyaniding operations such as those carried out at Mount Morgan. In addition, a clear understanding of the chemical reactions in play is required, including the influence of mineralisation in the ore. Metallurgists in larger plants in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries had established operating parameters, including roasting (to volatilise arsenic and bismuth, and to oxidise sulphides), together with temperature control, aeration and pH control using chemical additives. However, in both phases of cyanide processing at Mount Shamrock, there was no evidence of these elements in use. Benjamin Dunstan (1911), the Government Geologist, saw the cyanide process used at Mount Shamrock as a primitive arrangement. Archaeological remnants show that cyanide tanks in the Upper Processing Area were run as an in-line single

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Fig. 8.5  Cyanide tanks on creek—boiler on right and tanks and rail at left, feeder tank centre right. (Photo courtesy of Biggenden Historical Society)

Fig. 8.6  Miners and cyanide operators at Mount Shamrock: C. Parker, B. Parry, E. Byrne, W.Ivey, W. Bow, G. Palmer. (Photo courtesy of Biggenden Historical Society)

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direction circuit, rather than the more effective counter current process. Further, it seems unlikely that the miners had the necessary knowledge to keep the chemical process in balance to effectively use cyanide treatment. The presence of bismuth and arsenic meant that there were still problems treating the ore, yet the furnace, still in place, did not appear to be in operation (despite the fact that roasting is an important step). This shows a clear lack of knowledge of the process. The ready adoption of cyaniding by the miners of Mount Shamrock, despite an apparent lack of understanding of the process itself, is an indicator that they felt confident in their own ability to cope with changing technology. Two of the tributers’ party that established the first cyanide treatment, Parry and Williams, had worked for the original Mount Shamrock Co. as miners, staying on as tributers through times of closure. Records shows that while working as tributers, they carried out basic crushing and concentration and transported the concentrate 100kms away to Aldershot near Maryborough for processing, but did not venture any improvements. There was no marked expansion of the mine workings and the government mining administration clearly saw them as tribute miners. Another of the “syndicate” that set up the tailings treatment was Hugh Cairns: hitherto the publican at Mount Shamrock, then tribute miner, he also became a “proprietor” of the cyanide process. Their knowledge of cyaniding would have been gained from their local network of miners, and was probably based on empirical recipes. Newspaper articles at that point described the three men as proprietors of the venture, when in reality they were not only the proprietors but the managers, miners and process operators. Nevertheless, in establishing this plant, the tributers made a substantial amount of money from their outlay, both from the initial treatment of the tailings and from the subsequent sale of the lease to investors. The adoption of this process should be considered in light of the inherent difficulties in undertaking cyanidation, this degree of difficulty contrasting with the confidence the miners showed in adopting the technology. The selection of technology was carried out in an environment where anyone could “have a go”. Oral accounts of success from miners in like circumstances, and a limited transfer of that knowledge, was sufficient for the tributers to undertake the treatment of tailings. However, the cyanide process was not well understood, as the quote below about the need for fine weather shows: Mining matters are on the improve and again for certain mining enterprise the fine weather is preferable. The cyaniding process, for instance, is more successfully carried on in nice fine weather (The Maryborough Chronicle 30 November 1901)

Nevertheless, in deciding to initiate cyanidation, this group fixed for themselves a better income. Their venture into the treatment of tailings was for a time very successful and greatly added to the income of the town. Success allowed Jones, Parry, Williams and Cairns, the “tribute miners”, to be transformed into “Shareholders of a mining venture” and “proprietors of a Tailings Treatment enterprise” (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 September 1902).

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The Role of Mining Administration Mining Wardens and Government Geologists primarily operated the mining administration of nineteenth century Queensland. The miners at Mount Shamrock clearly understood and operated within this administrative context. From the earliest, the requirement for claims to be appropriately pegged made them mindful of the need for controlling authorities to be present and a number of disputes were raised requiring the attention of the warden. The role of the Mining Warden was to adjudicate on such claims, and to allocate and register land for mining leases, machine areas, water reserves, and homestead, garden and business leases. As the regulatory body on the goldfield, they also ensured mines were worked in the appropriate manner, and granted exemptions to allow variation from the prescribed staffing levels or rates of work. The qualifications and personalities of men appointed as Mining Wardens had an impact on the success or otherwise of a mining venture. At Mount Shamrock, after the initial two wardens—William Parry-Okeden who was later to be appointed to the high profile colonial positions of Commissioner of Police and then Protector of Aborigines, and Edmund Filmer Craven, who had wide reaching colonial contacts—the Wardenship was taken up by administrators who were variously less prominent citizens, although nonetheless important at Mount Shamrock, Paradise, Chowey, Stanton Harcourt and Biggenden (Table  8.1). After 1914, the Mining Warden’s portfolio changed and coal was included along with gold and minerals. Table 8.1  Mining Wardens servicing Mount Shamrock Warden W. Parry-Okeden

Time 1886–1887

E.F. Craven W.R.O. Hill

1887–1888 1888–1893

J.C. Linedale L.E.D. Towner W.M. Mowbray T. J. Reilly E. Morey

1893–1894 1895–1896 1897 1898–1900 1901

F. Vaughan C. Francis W. Tasker G.E. Loch F.P. Parkinson J. Bracewell

1902–1908 1909–1910 1912–1913 1914 1915 1916–1918 1919–1932 1933–1935

J. A. Murray

Later became Commissioner of Police and Protector of Aborigines Moved to become Warden at Eidsvold Relocated the Mining Wardens Court to Paradise in 1891 Acting Warden at Paradise

Acting Mining Registrar Relocated Mining Wardens and Petty Sessions Court to Biggenden Based in Biggenden Assistant Mining Registrar Assistant Mining Registrar Mining Warden Mining Warden No reports of Mining at Mount Shamrock Mining Warden

Based at Gayndah Gayndah Gayndah then Paradise Paradise Paradise Paradise Paradise Biggenden Biggenden Biggenden Biggenden Biggenden Maryborough Maryborough Maryborough

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This mirrored the change in government focus across Queensland from gold mining to provision of coal and related, in part, to the advent of war. Nevertheless the social and political networks of the Mining Wardens continued to play a part in the continuing operation of the mine at Mount Shamrock. In addition to the potentially useful contacts that mining wardens had with the colonial administration, they had a role in promoting gold fields through the presentation of an annual report to parliament. These reports also went to press. Wardens therefore could have a direct impact on the ability of mining syndicates to raise investors; if uninterested, they could have a detrimental effect. It is certainly evident from the Annual Reports that not all Mining Wardens viewed the prospects of the mine at Mount Shamrock (and indeed nearby Paradise) with any enthusiasm. Further, it appears there was little attention to Mount Shamrock in the latter years, when the Mining Warden’s reports show that they barely visited the mine. Government Geologists had similar power to make or break a mining endeavour. They made statements in public forums on the richness or otherwise of the ore body. They explained the nature of ore bodies and made recommendations for methods to approach mining and processing, and had a voice in the government’s reporting structure. Mining Wardens also had an influence on the adoption of technology as they were considered a source of expertise not only on mining legislation, but were also expected to have knowledge about mining and processing to support their role. When not the experts they were expected to be, mining wardens could perpetuate poor practices through a lack of experience and poor understanding of the underlying reasons for different approaches. The delay of proclamation of the Mount Shamrock goldfield until 1905 (QGG 22 Feb 1905) was another way in which the Mining Wardens affected the likelihood of success. Mount Shamrock was not proclaimed a goldfield when the first successful mining ventures commenced. Proclamation as a gold field would have assisted advocacy for infrastructure such as railway access. The gold field was finally gazetted when new investments appeared after the introduction of cyanidation. By that time, the richest part of the ore body appeared already worked out. In comparison, nearby Paradise was declared a township and goldfield within months of its establishment, yet lasted less than 15 years.

Mount Shamrock—A Company Town? Over 100 men are on the field, and companies are being formed daily. (The Brisbane Courier 24 July 1886).

While the role of individuals is a key element of social influences on the pursuit of mining and attendant technologies, the political and economic context was also influential. As was the case for much of Queensland, and indeed Australia and New Zealand in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, at Mount Shamrock a range of companies, joint ventures and individuals established mines. The

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proliferation of mines and companies matched events elsewhere. To the southeast, Gympie had several large independent mines and inland in the Upper Burnett Eidsvold had commenced mining in a similar fashion, with several prospects operating independently. The syndicates were the result of a complex interplay of individual prospectors and “venturers” forming companies that at different times divided and re-coalesced, with shares changing hands regularly. However, after the first year, the Mount Shamrock Gold Mining and Quartz Crushing Company became the major employer on the field. Although the mine continued to operate over the next few years, a number of internal and external factors influenced production. The biography of mining at Mount Shamrock illustrates a different but somewhat parallel trajectory to gold mining in other parts nineteenth century Australia, revealed through the intimate detail of the evolution of a local mining company.

Mount Shamrock Gold Mining and Quartz Crushing Company After the flurry of activity under Miners’ Rights when gold was first discovered in 1886, the Mount Shamrock Gold Mining Company, in various guises, became the primary employer of workers. The company held the prospectors lease, covering the main part of the ore body and was the only venture that established a battery (and attendant processing equipment) on the field. The installation of processing equipment was considered essential for the success of the goldfield but the company were unwilling to crush ore for any other producers. This was a form of restriction for others on the field, an act that was anticipated as “keep(ing) the place back considerably” (The Maryborough Chronicle 8 June 1887). In contrast, by the time mining in nearby Paradise began, ore was transported from there by cart and crushed at the Mount Shamrock battery (The Brisbane Courier 7 May 1891). This relaxation of earlier restrictions was probably a strategic move to retain income at Mount Shamrock in view of the extensive shift to Paradise. The makeup of the workforce when the company was operating included shift workers, managers and foremen—a different environment to that experienced when speculators or tribute miners were working for themselves. However, in contrast to Quirk’s (2007:140–141) argument for Paradise, it is not clear that working men challenged the companies they were employed by in an articulation of labour principles. Rather, it appears the challengers considered themselves the equal of those company “managers”, in part because of greater social mobility provided in these smaller mining towns. Many of those initially claiming leases became managers yet came from the same stock as the miners. There was also social mobility between mining and business. Business owners provided capital, and therefore did not see themselves as purely miners, instead regarding themselves as investors. Furthermore, there was a constant movement of syndicates forming, disbanding and realigning. A similar phenomenon occurred at Paradise where many claims were initiated but only one or two were successful (Prangnell et al. 2005:68). It can be argued therefore that this situation provided miners with a sense of egalitarianism that allowed

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them to challenge shortcomings in management, such as failures to pay wages, in a more informal manner. As discussed earlier, mine managers played a role in the success or otherwise of the venture. In addition to the differences in approach to treatment, the ability and experience in adoption and adaptation of technology had a direct influence on the profitability of a venture. Managers were also an integral part of how the mine, the company and the town were presented and perceived. They reported progress to the newspapers and were the subject of judgements with respect to superior or inferior management. External factors such as influences from Brisbane and London, the commencement of mining at Paradise and at times a lack of capital, also affected individual ventures through the life of the mine. For example, the erratic operation of the Mount Shamrock Gold Mining Co. through the 1890s was seen to result from both financial constraints and the absence of the British owner (Ball 1901:4; The Maryborough Chronicle, Nov 2 1897). So even in the operation of the company there were elements of individual agency at play. Knapp (1998:4) has suggested that “capital intensive mining” meant that external forces impinged on labourers, and social change was instigated by factors beyond the control of mining communities themselves. He suggested this contrasts with the “preindustrial, ‘carnival’ or ‘informal’ mining activities” and “smaller-­ scale, kin-based mining activities in pre-capitalist communities” (Knapp 1998:4). However, Hardesty (1994:131) read this description of ‘carnival’ town to be a town where power was controlled at the grass-roots level by working class miners and entrepreneurs. This aligns more closely with the way in which the core of power operated at Mount Shamrock. Mount Shamrock had elements of both capital intensive and informal mining at different times and a clear dichotomy between company town and carnival town was not present. Although at times miners made their living employed by the company, when the company was not working operations transformed into informal ventures and miners worked on a small-scale as tributers. However, both were carried out within the context of industrial, capitalist ventures. Reliance on the “company” or “mine” alone was not all pervasive. Whether employed by the company or not, residents worked in a number of roles, including working their own properties, working in agriculture, and taking on paid work from other businesses in the township. There were also service industries associated with the settlement, such as shops and public houses, and other occupations associated with procurement of consumables including carters, woodcutters and fencers. Archival records and newspaper reports show that at times when the company was not working, residents did not remain helpless pawns of external forces but moved to other mines, such as those at Paradise, possibly in a form of risk-minimisation strategy. Although the Mount Shamrock Gold Mining Company was at times the main employer, Mount Shamrock cannot be regarded as strictly a company town. Fitting with Bell’s (1998:32) assertion that there was no such thing as a company town in Australia in the second half of the nineteenth century, the company at Mount Shamrock did not provide housing, control the availability of consumables to the residents or control provision of employment in other parts of the community. These

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were in the hands of the residents themselves. The company did however have power to affect the livelihood of residents, including those employed by the mine and those indirectly dependant on the mine through support of the town’s economy. Hence, the contrast of “carnival” and “company” does not address the complexities of life in a small gold-mining town in Queensland in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. The mining community of Mount Shamrock was bound up with the mine, and at times the mining company, in a symbiotic relationship that made settlement and livelihood interdependent; although this is itself somewhat of a simplification as it fails to take into consideration the whole landscape, and the range of activities residents participated in. Once settled in the locality of the mine, the mine was an integral part of a community’s existence, but was not always the central core. When the mine went bad things went bad for the town, but as discussed above there were mitigating activities that residents took to lessen their dependence on the mine, one of these being to change from company employees to tribute miners.

Tribute Miners A lack of funds or the folding of the company at times forced the closure of the mine at Mount Shamrock under exemption. These times saw miners who had previously worked in the company continue to operate at Mount Shamrock as tributers. As a less formal approach to hard rock mining tribute mining, or artisanal mining per Bryceson (2018), has resonance with the more individualistic working of claims seen in alluvial prospects. Jackman (1995:51) recognised the role of familial networks in working relationships of tribute miners working the Blue Tier tin mine in Tasmania. Certainly, at Mount Shamrock the networks miners established while working together continued into the informal mining operation, the continuation of kin and fictive kin relationships embedded in the landscape (Prangnell and Mate, 2011). Even in the operation of the mine on tribute however, there were complexities. As just discussed, the tribute miners, with small scale investment in the mine being worked, became speculative miners, raising capital for infrastructure improvements. The miners become investors. Through a willingness to engage in tribute mining and to adopt new technologies, they showed active and intentional agency in changing their status. They chose chemical processing technologies based on local experience and understanding gained from their peers. Their readiness to adopt new technologies was based on a sense of identity, directly linked with these same networks. If Fredrick Learoyd of Paradise was able to treat tailings with cyanide, then so also were the tribute miners of Mount Shamrock. In turn, the use of this technology influenced their own sense of identity, transforming these “tribute miners” making wages into “proprietors” of a syndicate. At Mount Shamrock, it is clear that generalisations about alluvial versus hard rock mining and individual miners versus company miners are inadequate. Individuals pegged claims, others worked on syndicate claims. The control of

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land allowed negotiation. Those on hand to take up mining leases as they were surrendered were able to use those leases to negotiate a place in a syndicate. The links between labour relations and company investment are therefore less than straightforward. From the earliest days there is indication of a complex interplay of individual miners and companies, including the smaller and less profitable claims that were let go and taken up by individuals. As time went by the complexity remained but transformed to the negotiation of company and tribute miners. These negotiations were not completely unequal with tribute miners having knowledge, a degree of control, and locally recognised status. Tribute mining was therefore an effective strategy, not only for gaining income when things were tight, but also (in the spirit of colonial gold mining) for improving their status through access to wealth.

The Mining Landscape The landscape of mining and processing activities across the hillside at Mount Shamrock changed through time. Not only did the number and nature of mines change, from the original mining landscape with many shafts, to the main Mount Shamrock mine and the workings at Kent’s Knob, but the location of processing centres altered through time. A number of factors, including the competing requirements of proximity to water and proximity to the ore body, influenced the location of processing. The consumption of resources, most particularly mineral and timber resources also changed the physical landscape. One part of the physical landscape and the environment was the sensory landscape. Networks and paths for movement of people and material (such as explosives, chemicals and timber) across the landscape were another aspect of the mining landscape. In turn, the connections to markets underscore the place of Mount Shamrock in the state, national and global political and economic landscape. All of these factors demonstrate a landscape of meaning that encompassed mining but was richer than merely a mine shaft. The location of mining and processing at Mount Shamrock was separate from the town. This was similar to the structure of the contemporary Upper Burnett mining town of Eidsvold, which had mining to the west of the town on the hill and a separate machine area to the north of the town (Mate 2014). In contrast, at nearby Paradise the machine areas were located within the township, although the mines were again situated on the hillside behind the town (Prangnell et al. 2005). The location of processing machinery in Paradise may have been related to proximity to water, as there was little water available on the hillside behind the town. This may reflect, also, the acceptance of mining as integral to the existence of the town. Mining activities were therefore not out of sight, out of mind, but were situated right in the town. This arrangement was similar to that at Ravenswood to the north (Roderick 1980). Regardless of the location of machine areas within or outside the town however, mining continued to impinge on everyday life for all these places. On

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the other hand, one aspect of the mining landscape was remote, concealed from all except those with the knowledge to read it—the underground landscape. The underground landscape, like any landscape, was created, learned and known, embedded with meaning, through journey and narrative. Understood differently by those “inside” and “outside”, it effectively excluded those who did not know the intricacies of the mine. There was representation of those who knew in the naming of this underground landscape—Jones, Bow, Parry and the Tributers Drives and Learoyd Stope all named after long-term miners— demonstrating the restricted knowledge, embedded in the landscape. This connection to the tributers in particular also emphasises their importance in the mining story at Mount Shamrock. The underground landscape changed over time, transforming as tunnelling, and later stoping, was carried out at 10 different levels (Fig. 8.7), an intricate array of workings in tunnels developing through time (Ball 1901:6; Dunstan 1911:170–171). Waste material was stacked in disused tunnels, further altering the layout of the mine at different times (Dunstan 1911:170). In addition to an understanding of the underground landscape, there was a physical aspect of being-in-place, including sensory experiences and movement through the underground workings. For example, ladders were used in the Long Winze, in preference to the shaft, to descend and climb to the surface (Ball 1901:8). Navigation was another important aspect of movement underground, with restricted paths that had very similar features. Although little timbering was required in the mine (Ball 1901: 8), the timber that was present would have been a feature in navigation where nuances such as particular features in the rock walls or portions of timber supports constituted the way-­ markers miners used. Mining activity connected almost the entire landscape—prospecting, clearing, and the movement of people, houses and goods, and wagons of ore and gold bullion. Even the areas of larger leases outside the township, used for agricultural activities, were Miners Homestead Leases. Nearby gold mining leases at Mount Melville, Mount Ophir, Chowey Creek and the Allendale silver mine were all part of the local mining landscape, as were the more distant settlements of Gebangle and Biggenden and later Paradise. The extent of the designated boundaries of the Paradise Goldfield, the Mount Shamrock Goldfield and the Chowey Goldfield took up more than two thirds of the leasehold area north, west and south of Mount Shamrock township (Fig. 7.7) within the parish. Across the entire area therefore, the physical landscape was changing under the impetus of mining.

Environment and the Physical Landscape The act of mining was inextricably bound to the physical landscape of Mount Shamrock. The resources required for mining and the resource extracted by mining were taken from the landscape and the act of taking them changed the landscape. The environment also had an unquestionable effect on mining. Water in particular

Fig. 8.7  Underground landscape of Mount Shamrock (Ball 1901)

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was an essential component, used in the boiler, stamper battery, grinding circuits, gravity separation tables and cyanide and chlorination tanks. The provision of water contributed to the creation of the mining landscape, the work undertaken to install wells, pumps and pipes up the hillside to the battery and the construction of the dam on Didcot Creek illustrating the importance of water to the process. The flow of water within the battery contrasted with the drought-affected country surrounding the plant and within the town. Even the mining operations were affected at times, the Federation Drought having an extreme effect on mining operation with lack of water resulting in mine closure on at least three occasions. The dry condition also had an impact on the availability of timber and the supply of feed for horses and bullocks. Although intimately associated with it, mining had a detrimental impact on the environment. Archaeological survey shows that gangue or waste material removed to reach the mineral vein was stacked on the surface and mullock heaps are still evident in some places. Grinding, gravity separation, chlorination, cyanidation and roasting all affected the environment, giving off toxic and highly pungent gases and effluent. Water, an integral part of the operation, eroded the land and a constant stream of wet and poisonous tailings from various processes flowed down the hillside and drained into the local water system, polluting the creeks. After treatment, the waste, transformed from rock into gravel and fine slurry, was either stockpiled or dumped, creating a further change to the land, as evidenced by the great extent of tailings still present across the hillside. Both emissions and run off had an effect on the local vegetation and fauna. The remains of the lower cyanide treatment tanks, found on the bank of Didcot Creek, with the lowest tank embedded in the creek bank particularly speak to the historical lack of consideration of the impact of these toxic processes on the environment. The use of local resources also changed the landscape. Together with changes to establish a water supply, clay was extracted for bricks, timber was felled for construction and boiler fuel, and limestone was collected for mortar and processing needs. The degree of deforestation at Mount Shamrock is evident from the complete lack of remnant vegetation present today on the mine hill. Accounts of timber stacked on the roadside from Degilbo (several kilometres distant) show the extent of timber-getting moving progressively away from town as local resources were depleted. The effects of the mining and processing were not only visible on the broader landscape; the conditions found in the internal physical environment of the hard rock mine—enclosed, dusty and noisy, beset with the inherent dangers of underground mining—and in the environs of the processing works—noisy sheds, with wet wooden floors, in close proximity to toxic chemicals—were extreme. The physical discomfort of heat and humidity in the summer months and the discomfort of working in a wet processing environment in the winter would have heightened the physical experience of the industrial landscape.

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A Sensory Landscape One feature of any landscape is the sensory perception of being-in-the-landscape, experienced visually and through touch, hearing and smell. For the residents of Mount Shamrock, even those not directly employed in mining, the landscapes would have been perceived as a mining place, a familiar environment with features such as mine-heads, mullock heaps and tailings streams. The location of mining operations on the hill adjacent to the town, and the clear link of the flow of Didcot Creek and tracks to the mine meant that the mining operations were within the landscape of everyday activity and experience. Consequently, approaching the industrial area, the mine head—together with mullock heaps, mine tunnels and shafts, tents, carts, miners and tools, timber stockpiles and the processing works—inhabited visual perspectives. These physical features represented not only the fact of mining but also a means of income and employment. Some mining components infringed on the town area, such as the water reserve. The dam constructed for mining purposes actually caused the water to extend back into the township, a symbolic umbilical to the mining works. However, as mining operations were separate from the town and not clearly visible from the houses, the predominant sensory experiences beyond (and within) the mining area were aural and olfactory. Rainbird (2008: 263) suggests that many analyses of landscape privilege vision over other sensory perceptions in phenomenological approaches (see also Cummins 2002:249). He has further proposed that sound plays a role in “bodily engagement” with a landscape. In an industrial context this is clearly demonstrable. The steady and rhythmic thump of a stamper battery echoes over long distances. Close up it is a pounding felt in the body, a ringing in the ears. Grinding pans and shaking tables add to the cacophony. The underlying “whoosh” of the steam engine provides a constant background. These sounds all are part of the experience of working in a battery. At Mount Shamrock, sound would have been an integral part of the environment, the rhythms of the machines at work a background noise across the town, punctuated by the crash of ore bins emptying. The pierce of the shift whistle into this melange tempered the rhythm of daily life (Bilbrough n.d.) and further connected the township to the mine. The cessation of the thump of a stamper battery, the silence when the mine was under exemption or stopped for lack of water or money, would have made the quiet seem loud, the lack of noise of operation a sensory representation of a lack of work and income. Olfactory experiences can be added to this list of bodily engagement. The “smell-­ scape” would have evoked mining, with odours drifting from chemical processes. Chlorination and cyanidation plants in particular give off copious odours and gases. At the chlorination plant at Mount Morgan in central Queensland for example: Entering a large shed, open at all sides, we were quickly seized with a choking sensation, caused we learnt, by the inevitable escape of chlorine gas. The effect of this gas is over-­ powering to the visitor, and to the workmen, especially those with a weak chest, it is exceedingly trying, often, in fact, causing severe cough with bleeding at the lungs (The Brisbane Courier 16 October 1886).

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The fumes from roasting furnaces, driving off sulphides, would have been especially pungent. The odour of smoke from the boilers burning timber to build up steam for the engine would also have been constant. The smell of dust from the ore pulverised in the stamper battery and the distinctive scent of wet slurry would have completed the panoply of smell. Sensory experiences were part of the underground landscape as well, where there were different types of noises and sound behaved differently. The continuous sound of picks striking the walls, particularly in the enclosed space, would have been extreme and may have carried along some tunnels, together with noise from the movement of ore buckets and haul lines. In other more isolated parts of the mine, if the miners stopped work for a moment, the silence would have been all encompassing. Although sight would have been impaired by the lack of light, the visual aspect of tunnels and shafts by candle light or by the glow of carbide lanterns would have been distinctive. In the enclosed space, men would smell the odours of dust from explosives, the ore face and stagnant water. (Water was found at depth in the main shaft and, according to Ball (1901:7), most of the winzes were inundated with water by 1901.) Bats inhabit the tunnels today at Mount Shamrock. Although it is unlikely that they were present during times of full operation, it is possible that the bats were in residence during the many shutdowns of the mine, and the times when only two or three miners worked there on tribute. Bat guano has a very distinct smell that would have added to the sensory perception of the underground landscape. Reflection on these physical experiences of mining landscapes in the past highlights the subjectiveness of interpretation. Although these interpretations of visual landscapes together with soundscapes and even smell-scapes are based on my own experience in mines and processing plants, the sensory experiences are echoed by the correspondents of the time. Nevertheless, acknowledging multi-vocality, it is not just the notion of identifying who was engaging with a past landscape and how their context influenced their understanding that is important, but also recognition of the subjectiveness of the archaeological reading. When interpreting meaning in an historical landscape, there is an opportunity to include documentary accounts and contextual information to further contribute to interpretations (even though these accounts themselves may have inherent biases). However, as Rainbird argues (2008:268), sensory perception, although culturally influenced, is a human condition shared by most of us.

Networks and Paths Another element of experiencing a place is movement, and networks and paths were an integral part of traversing the landscape. As discussed earlier, boundaries, particularly fences, channelled movement through the township. In the mining landscape of Mount Shamrock, and indeed the broader landscape, paths, tracks and roadways directed and constrained movement. Tracks and roadways did not just guide movement locally, but provided routeways for people, coaches, and carts

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travelling from Mount Shamrock to nearby townships of Paradise, Biggenden, Gayndah and Maryborough, coach roads linking the town to the wider colonial network. Paths and tracks, as well as roads, were regularly marked on maps, depicting this movement. Later, the railway line (installed in 1905) channelled (and in some ways more closely structured) movement in the broader landscape. The paths for flow of material around the mining lease, represented by still-­ extant roadways, were important for understanding the intricacies of the mining operations. Ore was hauled from the mine to the processing plant and, if operations were running at reduced capacity, was stockpiled near the stamper battery. At the other end of the process, tailings were channelled down the hillside into specific locations (stacked for example in the early days, ready for additional treatment). The destination chosen for tailings also needed to take into account the flow of water, ensuring waste water flowed away. There were also paths for the flow of material from off-site into the area—carts arriving with timber for the boiler, chemicals such as cyanide and zinc powder, mercury for use in amalgamation, metal for the blacksmith and so on. These consumables were transferred onto the mine and stored in preparation for use. Although the remnants of the blacksmith were not located, documentary evidence has an early blacksmith building constructed in advance of the battery (The Brisbane Courier 31 March 1887) and a later blacksmith located near the main shaft. The remnants of the one-time store were centrally located close to the assay office and the upper cyanide treatment tanks. Excavated terraces found on the south side of the hillside may have represented earlier storage, or were possibly associated with storage of explosives, which were normally placed remote from other chemicals. The movement of consumables between the store and point of employment required the use of carts that moved along the internal trackways crisscrossing the hillside. As previously mentioned, a large quantity of timber was consumed. Sawyers and timber cutters were employed at Mount Shamrock and, although the location of the sawpits was not identified, newspaper accounts indicate that three saw pits were in operation during the construction of the earliest plant (The Brisbane Courier 31 March 1887). The movement of timber would have been frequent, and particularly for the early battery, the timber carts (along with other goods) would have moved through the town as the main street led to the (still extant) principle crossing over Didcot Creek (Fig. 8.8). Lime was another consumable brought to the site and a small lime kiln operated near the battery. In all these facets of supply, networks of movement and activity developed across the physical landscape and created areas understood conceptually as a part of the “mine”. In addition to consumables, processing equipment had to be transported to the site for installation. The initial transport of the boiler and stamper battery in 1887 was fraught with difficulty and clearly illustrated the poor state of roads to the goldfield. The journey was achieved with the ingenuity of bullock drivers, who overcame problems with poorly defined tracks, boggy roads and creek crossings (The Maryborough Chronicle 23 June 1887). This movement formed another link between the town and mining area, the boiler in particular gaining a great deal of attention on its progress through the town. Although bricks were being made on the

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Fig. 8.8  Geological sketch of Mount Shamrock showing township, mine site and main track to mine across Didcot Creek (centre of drawing) (Rands, in Ball 1901)

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site in the early days of the settlement (The Brisbane Courier 3 May 1887), no evidence was found for this activity. The quantity of bricks from other sources found archaeologically, nevertheless show that a considerable quantity of bricks were imported. These would also have presented challenges in transport and handling. The route used for supplies arriving in the township also represented the path for material leaving. Gold ingots were taken by coach to the railhead and then transferred via Maryborough to Brisbane; ore was sent to Gympie for crushing in the earliest days of Mount Shamrock (Annual Report Department of Mines 1886:53); and ore concentrate was sent to Aldershot works near Maryborough for treatment when the mine was worked on tribute. Ore concentrate was even sent 1200 km south to Sydney in the (at that time) colony of New South Wales for processing on occasion (Annual Report Department of Mines 1900:110). The regional town of Maryborough in particular was an important node in the network surrounding Mount Shamrock. Although not regarded as a mining place, Maryborough made large contributions in goods supplied and investments in mining in the Upper Burnett and these links were, in turn, important to Maryborough, its citizens anxious for access to the perceived economic benefits of a successful mining industry.

Global, Political and Economic Landscape The other network in the broader landscape was that of capitalism and the global networks of supply and demand. As the range of imported products represented in the archaeological record at Mount Shamrock show, in addition to locally sourced material, some building materials were brought in from elsewhere in the colony. For example, Campbell and Ebbw Vale bricks sourced from Brisbane, 300 km to the south, were found in both the industrial area and the township. Firebricks from Gartcraig and Dougall in Scotland and Halls and GEC&S in England—used in the mine and (re)used in the township at Mount Shamrock—are almost ubiquitous as firebricks in nineteenth century industrial sites. They were as widely distributed as Nova Scotia, Madagascar, Brazil and Western Canada (Bell 1998:30; Lewis n.d.; Roderick 1980: 55, 79). Their presence at Mount Shamrock demonstrates the truly broad network within which the gold-mining towns of Queensland operated. Domestic artefacts with manufacturer’s branding, such as Holbrooks Worcestershire Sauce, McCallum’s Whiskey and Dr. Woods Peppermint cure, together with a range of imported ceramics, add to this picture and indicate the extent to which the residents of Mount Shamrock were also tied into global consumption networks, using material sourced from overseas, most particularly the colonial epicentre, Britain. The global environment of Mount Shamrock can be seen in terms of exports as well as imports. From the earliest days, silver ore from nearby Allendale was sent to Melbourne (1800  km to the south) and overseas to Germany for processing (Maryborough Chronicle 31 July 1886). The discovery of gold at Mount Shamrock advanced the new township into the global economy—companies associated with several leases were promoted in Brisbane and later in London. At times, Mount

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Shamrock was equated with Mount Morgan (ultimately a much larger and more profitable venture) in terms of potential, ore composition (The Brisbane Courier 3 August 1886 for example) and the extent of mineralisation at Mount Shamrock and its surrounds: Mount Shamrock is not one patch only like Mount Morgan, for the gold has been found at Mount Melville near it and at Mount Ophir, a mile away. Gold has also been found mixed with the silver ore at Allendale, one and a half mile away. (Letter to Editor, by Charles Power, The Brisbane Courier 13 September 1886)

These events can be viewed in the context of the buoyant approach to minerals in Queensland, after mining successes at Charters Towers and (subsequently) Mount Morgan. This was a time of a heightened awareness of venture capitalism, not just because of the wealth generated from mineral discoveries but also as a result of the political climate. The 1880s were a time of “unprecedented vigour” in capitalist investment (Evans 2007:108). With high profile Queensland political leaders Thomas McIlwraith and Samuel Griffith active just prior to and during the time when Mount Shamrock was established, the focus of the government was firmly directed to resource exploitation and capitalist ventures. The establishment of public companies via share floats at the time of the Colonial and Indian Exhibition in London (1886), an exhibition seen as a massive promotional opportunity for Queensland’s mining industry aimed at attracting capital (McKay 1998:249), demonstrates the nature of the colonial framework at that time. The subsequent use of the workings at Mount Shamrock (Fig. 8.9) to illustrate Queensland as a centre of gold production on commemorative postcards for the Franco-British Exhibition,

Fig. 8.9  Mount Shamrock workings, c 1908. This postcard was used for the Franco-British Exhibition in London in 1908. The reverse side states: “The Value of gold obtained in Queensland during 1906 was £2,313,464” (Robert MacPherson Gift, John Oxley Library)

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held in London in 1908, highlights the international profile available to the capitalist ventures of Queensland. There was a relatively large amount of capital investment and speculative gain from the mine. In the first flush of enthusiasm, companies were floated and shares sold at greatly inflated values. For example, holdings at nearby Mount Ophir were floated as a company within 6 weeks of the discovery of gold, with capital of £9000 raised for a mine that, at that time, had yielded almost no gold beyond promising samples. The Mount Shamrock Gold Mining and Quartz Crushing Company was floated a month later in September 1886, with a value of £60,000 (The Brisbane Courier 27 September 1886). In June 1887, the shareholders placed the Mount Shamrock Company on the market with a value of £280,000, but the sale was almost immediately withdrawn as shareholders felt the stock to be undervalued (The Brisbane Courier 13, 14 June 1887). Yet this float was seen as “audacious” by investors in Britain (The West Australian 14 June 1887)—a sign of the healthy scepticism with which many new ventures were treated. An editorial piece based on a report tabled in the Queensland Parliament about the mineral fields of Gebangle, Biggenden and Mount Shamrock even gave a warning about such excesses of rhetoric: Exciting misstatements only irritate the public mind and injure the localities subject to them by inspiring a lasting feeling of contemptuous distrust (The Brisbane Courier 16 May 1890).

Eventually, the share float foundered and the owners were forced to settle on a lesser amount, partly as a result of some less than transparent actions of the “London Owner”. This sale, together with the discovery of gold at Paradise, demonstrates the influence of external forces at play in the conduct of mining at Mount Shamrock. The fresh items to hand since my last comprise the fact that, despite considerable trenching, no auriferous lode of the character of that on Mount Shamrock has been discovered, although on Mount Melville and Mount Ophir colours and some little coarse gold have been detected in broken quartz reefs. The latter claim is in the market, but this early attempt to float a company is generally deprecated as injurious to the sound development, or a genuine prospecting of the field (The Brisbane Courier 10 August 1886).

These speculations can be considered in the context of the need for investment capital, the general risks associated with gold mining, and perceptions of underhand dealings which led to a degree of wariness in London markets. Events at Mount Shamrock, particularly in the sale of shares in the nearby mine at Mount Ophir further illustrate that some mine holders were just as willing to make money from speculators as by speculating. Some claims from the early days of the field were rightly greeted with scepticism as vendors were suspected of overstating their particular claims when the bounded nature of the deposit was beginning to be understood (The Brisbane Courier 18 August 1886). There was however recognition within administrative bodies of “bubble companies” set up to sell ventures overseas, at either inflated prices or in some cases of no value at all (The Brisbane Courier 3 November 1886). These perceptions were realistic, with many mines espoused as “a great field” failing in relatively short periods of time (the venture at Paradise falling into this category). Both flowery rhetoric and

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scathing distrust served to counter a realistic assessment of the worth of a mine. At Mount Shamrock, these perspectives may have irrevocably damaged the likelihood of success of the mine, a hidden influence on the pursuit of mining. The internal operation of companies is also interesting for a number of reasons. The reporting of gold finds directly by telegraph to Brisbane linked the events at Mount Shamrock to the outside world and showed that the prospector and directors played an astute role in promoting the find, using very bold language: Mount Shamrock: A private telegram received by Mr. W. Smyth, M.L.A., states that 10 tons of stone from Mount Shamrock yielded 51oz. smelted gold. The property is regarded by a good judge as “the best thing in Queensland” as a large body of crushing stuff is easily got. The directors are Messrs. Smyth, Woodyatt, Simpson, McDonald, and Roberts (The Brisbane Courier 27 September 1886).

Prospectors such as Woodyatt and Simpson had become “Directors” and Simpson continued promoting the Mount Shamrock mine and the worth of the field as a whole including Kent’s Knob and Mount Ophir in glowing terms (The Brisbane Courier 1 November 1886). Similarly, Smyth M.L.A., a high profile politician and mining investor, was a shareholder and was the company’s representative in attempts to float shares publicly in the United Kingdom in July 1887, hardly an objective source. In the Upper Burnett, there may have been additional willingness to follow gold mining at Mount Shamrock due to the presence of a number of gold mines in the region, particularly nearby Mount Perry, and further away the goldfields of Cania and Calliope in the north and Gympie in the southwest. Together with perceptions of access to wealth and the imperative to work and earn an income, this could explain why people who had never mined before went into gold mining. Furthermore, the economic and political context of the time was such that mining in general and gold mining in particular was perceived by the governing hierarchy (and touted in the press) as the way forward for the colony and a potential source of new wealth. In taking part in the rush to gold, the residents of Mount Shamrock not only contributed to the rhetoric and used it for their own ends but also may have fundamentally believed the assertions of access to wealth through capitalist enterprise. The very meagre production of gold points comparatively to the complete lack of consequence of Mount Shamrock in terms of Queensland, and indeed Australian, production of gold. Yet despite its very modest success and relatively rudimentary approach to mining and mineral processing, Mount Shamrock was nevertheless seen in colonial terms as a producer of wealth, and as another facet in the growth and promotion of colonial society. As a mining town it was promoted as, and articulated, just such an identity. This is not to say that the excesses of the colonial and capitalist frenzy of the 1880s continued through to the 1900s as the context for mining at Mount Shamrock. Through the 1890s and 1900s various phases of capital investment and plant improvements allowed the mine to continue operating but by the 1910s there was little mining activity to be marked. During and after the First World War, gold mining declined considerably. Although mining continued after the boom was finished,

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it was conducted at a much more personal level, primarily undertaken as a source of income for the tribute miners. Nevertheless, mining at Mount Shamrock continued for as long as the township existed, and the landscape today still reflects this resource-intensive history.

Summary There is no doubt that social, physical and environmental factors were at work in the industrial landscape of Mount Shamrock. The advent of mining had an effect on the landscape—not only was the land surface dug up and dumped on, but the surrounding landscape was treated as a resource, trees were cut down, water taken and returned contaminated, and the atmosphere polluted. The smells, sounds and sights of this change created a sensory landscape that heightened people’s understanding of Mount Shamrock as a mining landscape. In addition to the sensory landscape that could be experienced individually, there was also a common view of the landscape of Mount Shamrock as a mining resource. Newspaper articles placed great emphasis on the physical landscape: the location of the mines relative to the hillside, river flats, creeks and the town itself. The mountain was the mine, not an environmental area or a topographical or geological feature and the landscape was seen as setting and resource for the all-important venture. This was no doubt a manifestation of the context of the time; the economic promise of gold mining in late nineteenth century Queensland was of paramount importance to the colony. That this hill yielded the riches of gold (or at least a livelihood) would have been a powerful symbol, standing out in the landscape. This acceptance of land as a resource prevailed, as evidenced by the rapid transformation of the hillside at Mount Shamrock into a mining landscape. As explored earlier, although regarded as wilderness or pastoral property by early colonial settlers, it was almost instantaneously transformed into a mining place, and was understood as such. The rhetoric about the township, published across the country in newspapers of the time, illustrates how quickly that transformation was accepted, where even before the ore was proven or the provisional goldfield declared, the landscape was reported in terms of mining and gold reefs. The mining landscape was therefore dialectically composed: in the giving and taking of meaning, the landscape was physically constructed, rent from the earth, and in turn was understood ideologically as a mining landscape—a capitalist landscape, a source of mineral wealth, with a landscape of abundant resources such as timber and water to facilitate the mining of gold. The external view of Mount Shamrock is clearly that of a mining township—the majority of reports focus on mining with little room for personal stories, other than those related to mining or the effects of mining. Interestingly, while almost all reports about Mount Shamrock published in The Brisbane Courier pertain to mining, pieces in the local newspapers—The Maryborough Chronicle and the Wide Bay and Burnett News—did contain stories related to people and events, along with the

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minutiae of mining details. Residents from Maryborough clearly saw Mount Shamrock as a premier place of mining in their region. For some time it was also identified as a high profile mine in Queensland’s capital, Brisbane, the listing of the company on the stock exchange cementing this view. Mount Shamrock was regarded as a promising and at times profitable venture in the broader context of mining in colonial and post-federation Queensland. Through comparisons to the profitable mining venture at Mount Morgan and the promotion of the mine at international exhibitions, the rhetoric associated with the mine fostered this understanding, albeit overstating the prospect. This position was influenced by the view Mount Shamrock residents had of themselves and which they themselves projected—it is the “local correspondent” who writes primarily of activities in the mine, and the residents who offer mineral samples associated with Mount Shamrock, rather than local flora or fauna, to the Maryborough School of the Arts. The residents had agency in the presentation of the town and were at pains to project a picture of a settled and profitable place. The social landscape was also dialectically constituted with mining. Relationships active in the mine were continued in the domestic setting. There was ready acceptance of mining as an occupation and the hierarchy within the town was influenced by a person’s status in the mine. Tribute miners used their access to the resources of the mine to change their social position, re-inventing themselves as a “syndicate” of “proprietors” and “shareholders in a mining venture”. Town and mining were connected in the landscape—the residents of the town, hearing the mine, depending on the mine, regarding themselves as residents of a mining town.

References Annual Report Department of Mines. 1886. Queensland Government Printer: Brisbane. ———. 1890. Annual report of the Department of Mines, Queensland, for the year 1890. (C.A 72 - 1891). Brisbane: James C. Beal, Government Printer. ———. 1897. Annual report of the Under Secretary for Mines to the Honourable Robert Philp, M.L.A., including the reports of the Gold Fields Wardens, Inspectors of Mines, and Government Analyst, during the year 1897. (C.A.40-1898). Brisbane: Edmund Gregory, Government Printer, Edward Street. ———. 1900. Queensland Government Printer: Brisbane. ———. 1901. Queensland Government Printer: Brisbane. ———. 1902. Queensland Government Printer: Brisbane. Ball, L.C. 1901. Stanton-Harcourt diggings and the Mount Shamrock mine. Queensland Geological Survey, Publication 169. Bell, P. 1998. The fabric and structure of Australian mining settlements. In Social approaches to an industrial past: The archaeology and anthropology of mining, ed. A.B. Knapp, V.C. Pigott, and E.W. Herbert, 27–38. London: Routledge. Bilbrough, E. n.d. An extract from the diary of Elsie Bilbrough: First teacher at Mount Shamrock, 1890–1892. Unpublished manuscript held by the Biggenden Historical Society. Bryceson, D.F. 2018. Artisanal gold-rush mining and frontier democracy: Juxtaposing experiences in America, Australia, Africa and Asia. In Between the plough and the pick: Informal, arti-

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sanal and small-scale Mining in the Contemporary World, ed. K. Lahiri-Dutt, 31–61. Acton: ANU Press. Cummins, V. 2002. Experiencing texture and transformation in the British Neolithic. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 21 (3): 249–261. Dunstan, B. 1911. Geological survey reports. Queensland Government Mining Journal 12: 169–173. Evans, R. 2007. A history of Queensland. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hardesty, D. 1994. Class, gender strategies and material culture in the mining west. In Those of little note: Gender, race and class in historical archaeology, ed. E.M. Scott, 129–145. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press. Jackman, G. 1995. ‘No good is to be found in granite’: Aspects of the social maintenance of mining concepts on Blue Tier Tin-Field, Tasmania. Australasian Historical Archaeology 13: 49–58. Knapp, A.B. 1998. Social approaches to the archaeology and anthropology of mining. In Social approaches to an industrial past: The archaeology and anthropology of mining, ed. A.B. Knapp, V.C. Pigott, and E.W. Herbert, 1–23. London: Routledge. Lewis, M. n.d. Australian Building. Retrieved 23/9/2009 from http://www.abp.unimelb.edu.au/ staff/milesbl/australian-­building/pdfs/bricks-­tiles/bricks-­tiles-­textured-­bricks.pdf Mate, G. 2014. Streets and stamper batteries – An ‘industrial’ landscape of gold mining townships in nineteenth-century Queensland. Australasian Historical Archaeology 32: 47–55. McKay, J. 1998. “A good show”: Colonial Queensland at international exhibitions. Queensland Memoirs 1 (2): 175–343. Palmer, M. 2004. The archaeology of industrialization: Introduction. In The archaeology of industrialization, ed. D. Barker and D. Cranstone, 1–4. Leeds: Maney Publishing. Prangnell, J., and G. Mate. 2011. Kin, fictive kin and aspirational movement: Working class heritage of the Upper Burnett. International Journal of Heritage Studies 17 (4): 318–330. https:// doi.org/10.1080/13527258.2011.577965. Prangnell, J., L. Cheshire, and K. Quirk. 2005. Paradise: Life on a Queensland goldfield. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Archaeological Services Unit. QGG. 1905. Queensland Government Gazette, 1905. Brisbane: Government Printer. Quirk, K. 2007. The Victorians in ‘Paradise’: Gentility as social strategy in the archaeology of colonial Australia. Unpublished PhD thesis, School of Social Science, University of Queensland, Brisbane. Rainbird, P. 2008. The body and the senses: Implications for landscape archaeology. In Handbook of landscape archaeology, ed. B. David and J. Thomas, 263–270. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press Inc. Rands, W.H. 1890. Mount Biggenden Bismuth mine, Gebangle, and the Mount Shamrock mine. Geological Survey of Queensland Publication 60. Roderick, D. 1980. Ravenswood: Surveying the physical evidence. In Readings in North Queensland Mining History, ed. K.H. Kennedy, 39–86. Townsville: James Cook University. Williams, P.J. 1991. Geology, alteration and mesothermal Au-Ag-mineralisation associated with a volcanic-intrusive complex at Mount Shamrock-Mount Ophir, SE Queensland. Mineralium Deposita 26: 11–17.

Chapter 9

Towards a Social Landscape of Industry

The gold-mining town of Mount Shamrock and its extended landscapes were traversed, imagined, understood, remembered and used by people every day and the mine was an integral part of every aspect of people’s day to day lives in the town— miners or not. The residents of the town constructed their identity in the landscape and transmitted status in the layout of town, in the use of material culture and in their engagement with the operation and technology of gold-mining. Importantly their broader landscape encompassed other mining townships in the district. There was a clear marriage of social with industrial in the landscape of Mount Shamrock, observable on the one hand in the influences of industry on social identity and the movement of people across the landscape. On the other, social factors influenced industry through the selection of technology and through the networks of the mining community. Furthermore, the outlook of residents was integrated in the wider context of the social and political climate, together with worldview at that time, a view that clearly saw mining as an important colonial enterprise.

Landscapes of Mount Shamrock The residents of Mount Shamrock created the landscape they lived in. They physically altered their environment, literally carving the landscape of Mount Shamrock from the ground. They also created meaning in, and in turn took meaning from, that landscape. For the residents meaning was embedded in the landscape, created and perpetuated, used and understood, through the mechanisms of journey, narratives and events. This led to a deeply held attachment to the landscape. Furthermore, there was a reciprocity of meaning: residents saw themselves as miners and they constructed their own identity as residents of a mining town, projecting this to the outside world.

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 G. Mate, Mining the Landscape, Contributions To Global Historical Archaeology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-12906-3_9

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Significant elements in the construction of the physical and social landscape for the residents of Mount Shamrock included elements of spatial structuring that reflected cultural norms and a social hierarchy that accepted a degree of social mobility. There was hierarchical structuring of space at a broad level that provided for residential space, public space and industrial space, together with ‘internal’ and ‘external’ space. The external structuring of space, as outside and beyond, was particularly manifested in the exclusion of ‘others’—those considered by the residents as less acceptable, including local Aboriginal people and ‘wild’ timber cutters. Some features were prominently located, most notably the school, indicating a particular status. The marking out of space through fencing and the clearing and planting of gardens served to counter perceptions of wilderness with trappings of civilisation. The material culture used by the residents also revealed a degree of respectability in households and illustrated both domestic and recreational pastimes. However at Mount Shamrock there were differing degrees of social status, and a fluidity of boundaries in the social landscape resulted in a degree of social mobility. The structure that was embedded in the landscape at Mount Shamrock can be regarded as reflexive, the result of day-to-day activity constituting the landscape and yet also reflecting and reinforcing cultural ideas. Gold-mining towns have often been depicted as rough and ready frontier towns on the edge of wilderness, filled with individual diggers, but the picture of Mount Shamrock presented here challenges this recurrent narrative. Although residents clearly felt they were ‘making’ a place in the wilderness and regarded themselves as occupying a ‘bush’ setting, and despite being filled with tents and humpies and having its fair share of drunken miners, even in its earliest phase Mount Shamrock was an established community that supported people in an array of occupations. At times it included a lively social atmosphere, with events such as local community dances. Entertainment also continued in a smaller domestic contexts. The conduct of domestic life, combined with a clear emphasis on community activities (through aspects such as education for the children, commitment to religious worship and provision of facilities like a reading room), make it apparent that life in Mount Shamrock was far from the picture of a coarse bush existence in a roaring mining town. The landscape was meaningfully constituted through imagination, normative social activity, adaptation with experience, social mobility and physical change. Ideas about agency inform interpretations using a landscape framework linking people, places, objects and meaning. In the gold-mining towns of the Upper Burnett, people defined their identities through an occupation of the landscape (social and physical). However, for all their individual actions, the decisions of the people of the Burnett were constrained and informed by the underlying social structures that governed not only administrative detail, but also ‘acceptable’ behaviour—the type of dwelling they were able to build, the location they were permitted to occupy in the town and their access to facilities. The landscape of Mount Shamrock, as determined from archaeological and documentary evidence, was found to be:

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–– multi-vocal with understanding dependant on world view; –– mutually constituted with structure and agency influencing constructions of landscape; and –– to hold meaning, attachment and memory. Archaeological surveying was carried out in a manner that reached beyond specific ‘sites’. The use of a survey methodology allowed the identification of spatial structure in the landscape. This, together with the recognition of a broader scale of landscape and an examination of elements of those broader landscapes, has revealed more about life in Mount Shamrock. The approach used allowed connections in the landscape to be identified and has shown how seemingly isolated features or even singular artefacts are important to understanding the landscape as a whole. For example, material culture—although fragmented, small in scale and locally located—can indicate not only spatial patterning and concentrations of activity but can provide information about broader connections across the landscape. These can be considered in terms of local movement of people and goods across both the mine and the township and also in terms of supply networks, bring the global capitalist ideology to the consumers of Mount Shamrock; artefacts can even address the effects of colonialism. Finally, documentary and archival sources have a fundamental role in ascertaining meaning for examinations of landscape in historical archaeology, providing some sense of the way in which nineteenth and early twentieth century residents of Mount Shamrock conceptualised their world. Examinations of landscapes in historical archaeology therefore can engage with an holistic view of landscape that encompasses embeddedness of meaning, construction of conceptual and ideational landscapes, transmissions of identity and cultural beliefs, and embodied experiences. Historical landscapes were nuanced landscapes, with different meanings, contextualised through time and events. The layers of landscape related to Aboriginal people, pastoralists, miners, farm workers, graziers and council workers are discoverable in the archaeological record of Mount Shamrock, the imprint of each phase of dwelling guiding the next.

Marriage of Industrial and Domestic The differentiation in analysis of industrial and domestic ‘sub-landscapes’ has allowed the exploration of the loosely contained areas of specific activity. The flow and inter-relationship between these contained sub-landscapes and within the broader scaled landscapes together illustrate the complex nature of “landscape”. The dynamic social environment enacted across the landscape of Mount Shamrock traversed not only the township but also the mine itself, the surrounding countryside and neighbouring settlements. The mine did not stand in isolation as the remnants do today. People from the township moved to and from the mine, working and visiting. Residents invested in mining, worked together and formed syndicates, these connections represented in the landscape, with families and friends residing

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near each other. The link between social and industrial can even be seen in the flow of families between mining centres within the district. On a broader scale, social networks of mining brought Mount Shamrock in touch with the outside world. Investments from overseas, the process of reporting to local and colonial governments and foreign investors, travel by shareholders and agents, and the influence of these relationships on the selection of technology, all served to strengthen external connections. The clear marriage of social with industrial in the landscape of Mount Shamrock was also observable in the influences of industry on social identity and status, with successful ventures making miners into proprietors and magistrates. Equally, social factors, including access to finance, individual knowledge, internal and external networks in the mining community and even colonial authority, influenced industrial activity through the selection and location of equipment and methods used. Therefore, to have an industrial archaeology without consideration of the social associations is to dismiss people to focus on the technology alone. It ignores human agency in even the most fundamental aspects of technology in gold mining— whether it is in the way a deposit is mined or the manner in which the ore is treated. Furthermore, the integration of domestic and industrial activity in the landscape in everyday life is apparent in the effect of mining industry on settlements, at times ephemeral, dependant on the resource, with people moving from place to place. The town and mine were not separated. Everyday interactions were inundated with elements of the industrial setting. The consumables from the mining and processing plants were used in the town as well; the noise and smell, and the water in the creek was ever present; and the movement of people and vehicles along established routes created a physical connection to the mine. On the town flat, the sense-scape of mining and processing saturated the environment that people lived in. The mine and town were integrally linked, intermingled parts of the landscape that, although located in proximity, suffused into each other. Mining was the main source of employment at Mount Shamrock, and residents saw themselves primarily as living in a mining town. Using a landscape approach allowed the exploration of discrete landscape subsets of settlement and industrial area, and provided a means of showing the relationships between them. Landscapes extend with experience and can be regarded as composed of events that have taken place in them. Therefore, ‘industrial’ landscapes cannot be artificially separated from associated settlements. The distribution of settlement and mine cannot be regarded as nodes of occupation on an empty and otherwise meaningless plane and events do not take place exclusively within these ‘nodes’. Further, in recognising that vista and visual experience make up part of our understanding and experience of landscape, it is clear that living-in-the-world of an industrial settlement encompasses this extended landscape of town and mine. The town and the mine of Mount Shamrock occupied a shared landscape; it was a symbiotic relationship that could not be disengaged. In recognising the integral ties between social and industry, concepts of colonialism and ‘colonialisation’ as explored by Gosden (2004; also see Beaudry 2003) are at play as, while they clearly

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engaged with the colonial centre, residents of Mount Shamrock presented their own slightly altered version of acceptable cultural behaviour.

Conclusion To conclude I want to return to the objectives I had in setting out on this research project. The first was to demonstrate that archaeologies of gold-mining were not “done” and that much could be learned about the nuances of goldfield life through socially based archaeological approaches (Mate 2014). Secondly, I wanted to show that landscape approaches could be applied in historical archaeology in a way that presented historical landscapes as meaningfully constituted, multi-vocal, experiential and embodied. I wanted address criticisms that landscape approaches in historical archaeology often addressed only social and economic interpretations of land use and were most usually applied to colonial gardens, and add my own ideas to the evolving body of work that recognises engaged landscapes in historical archaeology (such as Ashmore 2004; Branton 2009; Chauvel and Flexner 2020; Finneran et al. 2019; Hardesty 2010; Johnson 2012; Lawrence and Davies 2011; Newman 2017; Paterson 2006; Spencer-Wood and Baugher 2010). Broad-scale archaeological survey was an effective approach in the examination of an historical landscape. I hope that this body of work contributes to our understanding and use of landscape in historical archaeology, and provides an approach that resonates for those examining industrial contexts. In examining the landscape of Mount Shamrock through historical archaeological research, it has indeed been possible to present an industrial, colonially-framed landscape as meaningfully encountered, socially constructed, and as an engaged entity, constituted in space and place, perceived, created and experienced by people. The interpretation of the landscape of one small no-longer-extant mining town in the back-blocks of rural Queensland also provides a more explicit connection between global and local in the past. The inherent link between activities at Mount Shamrock and wider elements of colonialism are demonstrated through examinations of both individuals’ and company and government interactions. The specific relationship between a mining venture and the wealth of the colony and its’ society is also identifiable: Mount Shamrock operated in a colonial context which saw national and international interest and investment, and where the gold production of this small mine was seen as enhancing both the colony’s economy and reputation. And while operating in a global network, the impacts of capital investment and world-wide supply networks were nevertheless discernible at a local level, in everyday life, through industrial technology, material culture and documented rhetoric about Mount Shamrock. Sitting within a context of large scale gold rushes in settler colonies across the world, the landscape of Mount Shamrock can nevertheless show the everyday realisation of aspects of a colonialism and colonialisation of cultural beliefs and practices that were brought to Mount Shamrock with Europeans settlers.

232

9  Towards a Social Landscape of Industry

The examination of the landscape of Mount Shamrock presented here has shown that it is possible to explore concepts of meaningfully constituted landscapes in historical archaeology. The social and environmental landscape of Mount Shamrock has been revealed as landscape of meaning. The interpretation has emphasised an integrated view of a nineteenth century mining town, a place where social connections influence technology and technological and industrial endeavours influence the milieu of the settlement; where the social framework of the town integrates with the industrial reality, in a coherent and meaningfully-constituted landscape. The analysis of the landscapes of Mount Shamrock shows both the applicability of landscape as a theoretical framework for historical archaeology and the versatility and depth of interpretation that can be gained by considering landscapes as a whole. Further, it is evident that industry and settlement are integrally linked, and all part of a meaningful and engaged landscape. At Mount Shamrock, gold mining was all pervasive in people’s perceptions of the landscape, part of the lived experience and it is clear that the ‘social’ of everyday life was indeed to be found in the ‘industrial’.

References Ashmore, W. 2004. Social archaeologies of landscape. In Companion to social archaeology, ed. L. Meskell and R.W. Preucel, 255–271. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Beaudry, M.C. 2003. Concluding comments: Disruptive narratives? Multidimensional perspectives on ‘Britishness’. In Archaeologies of the British: Explorations of identity in Great Britain and its colonies 1600–1945, ed. S. Lawrence, 291–295. London: Routledge. Branton, N. 2009. Landscape approaches in historical archaeology: The archaeology of places. In International handbook of historical archaeology, ed. T. Majewski and D. Gaimster, 51–65. New York: Springer. Chauvel, P., and J.L.  Flexner. 2020. Mapping difference in the “uniform” workers’ cottages of Maria Island, Tasmania. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 24 (4): 902–919. Finneran, N., R. Lichtenstein, and C. Welch. 2019. Place, space and memory in the old Jewish east end of London: An archaeological biography of Sandys row synagogue, Spitalfields and its wider context. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 23 (2): 380–403. Gosden, C. 2004. Archaeology and colonialism: Cultural contact form 5000 BC to the present. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hardesty, D. 2010. Mining archaeology in the American west: A view from the silver state. Lincoln, Nebraska: University of Nebraska Press and the Society for Historical Archaeology. Johnson, M. 2012. Phenomenological approaches in landscape archaeology. Annual Review of Anthropology 41 (1): 269–284. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-­anthro-­092611-­145840. Lawrence, S., and P. Davies. 2011. An archaeology of Australia since 1788. New York: Springer. Mate, G. 2014. Digging deeper: The archaeology of gold Mining in Queensland. Queensland Archaeological Research 17: 21–36. Newman, E.T. 2017. Landscapes of labor: Architecture and identity at a Mexican hacienda. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 21: 198–222. https://doi.org/10.1007/ s10761-­016-­0329-­6. Paterson, A. 2006. Towards an historical archaeology of western Australia's northwest. Australasian Historical Archaeology 24: 99–111. Spencer-Wood, S.M., and S. Baugher. 2010. Introduction: The archaeology and preservation of north American gendered landscapes. In Archaeology and preservation of gendered landscapes, ed. S. Baugher and S.M. Spencer-Wood, 1–18. New York: Springer.

Glossary of Terms

Term Adit

Definition A horizontal or nearly horizontal passage driven from the surface for the working of a mine. Amalgam A general term for an alloy of mercury with gold, containing 40–60% gold. Amalgamation The process by which mercury is alloyed with gold to produce an amalgam, used for the extraction of gold and silver from crushed ores, has been largely superseded by the cyanide process. Berdan pan A circular, revolving and inclined iron pan in which concentrates are ground with mercury and water by iron balls. Bullion Gold and silver refined to high purity, kept in the form of bars, ingots or coins. Chlorination The process in which auriferous ores are saturated with chlorine gas and then treated with water, to remove soluble gold chlorides. Comminution The crushing and grinding of ores by mechanical means to small grains for further treatment. Crucible A refractory vessel used for melting gold. Crushing The reduction of pieces of ore into relatively coarse particles using mechanical means, often using a gyrating central crushing cone or a moving/hinged ‘jaw’. Cyaniding The process of dissolving finely ground gold and silver ores with a weak solution of sodium or potassium cyanide. The precious metals are then precipitated from solution with zinc, or by adsorption on activated carbon. Dead-work Work that is not directly productive such as the removal of rock to reach an ore body or work that is necessary for exploration or later production. Exemption Mine holders in Queensland were required to show evidence of continual work with a defined number of men, related to the size of the claim. Exemptions were an approval granted by the Mining Warden allowing work on a mine to be varied or cease for a period of time, normally as a result of financial or physical problems such as lack of water, or a need for labour or equipment. If work ceased with no exemption, mines were considered abandoned and could be claimed by another party. Gangue Matrix of earth in which metal ore is found, often used to distinguish as worthless part of ore, removed in processing. (continued)

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234 Term Gravity separation Grinding Haul road Mineral processing Mullock Open cut Ore Overburden Retort

Stamper battery

Stoping

Tailings Tribute

Glossary of Terms Definition Separation of metal-rich mineral from lighter waste material using differences in the different densities of minerals. Can also be used to separate different minerals. Size reduction into fine particles, most often done in rod or ball mills or in grinding devices such as the Berdan plan, normally a wet process. A road built to carry heavily loaded trucks so that ore can be moved from a mine to a processing area. General term for the treatment of ore for the purpose of concentrating the mineral being sought. This can include crushing and grinding, gravity separation, chemical treatment, and flotation. Waste material (rock) from which ore has been extracted, rubbish, hence mullock heap is a waste heap. Style of mining where mine is completely open to the surface, rather than underground, hence open cut mine. Also referred to as open-cast. The naturally occurring material from which minerals of economic value can be extracted. The term is often used to refer to metalliferous material. Material that overlies a deposit of ores or coal, especially those deposits that are mined from the surface in an open cut mine. A vessel used for the distillation of volatile mercury, in the process of separation of gold from amalgam. Mercury and its vapour is extremely harmful but was generally handled with no protective equipment. Retorting is the process of volatilising mercury amalgam to produce a gold sponge, while the mercury vapour is condensed outside of the furnace. A series of stamps, usually five, operated in one box or mortar, used for crushing ores. The stamps were raised and dropped via an eccentric cam. Several banks of stamps could be grouped together, hence a ‘ten-head stamper’ for example. A general term used to cover underground mining in general, stoping is the removal of ore from an underground mine, leaving behind an open space or stope. The final waste material resulting from the washing, concentration or treatment of gold ore. Tribute miners, rather than being employed directly by a company, made a living by mining the ground themselves with income based on a share of the value of the gold that they won.

Sources: EduMine 2000 last accessed 23/4/2010; Eissler 1900; Fowler and Fowler 1964; Rollason 1973; Rosenqvist 1974, Thomas 1978

Appendix A

Identified Features in Township Roadway, Drainage and Fence Line Features Feature ID F3

F7

F36

F39

F41

F45

Brief description Ditch approx 1 m wide, 0.2 m deep, extending 350 m, bearing 348° north along town flat. Terminates in shallow depression, approx 18.5 m in diameter Road approx 350 m along eastern edge of town flat, joining with pathway, approx 180 m in length, extending north of town flat along small path across gully and around eastern edge of Mount Shamrock Line of fence posts extending around the perimeter of the school reserve, approx 875 m in total length. Some fence posts remain in situ while others are lying beside replacement posts Alignment of 11 fence posts and 2 depressions running approx 100 m in length east/west across survey grid

Identification Drainage ditch and pond Road and pathway along town and to mine

School Reserve Boundary

Boundary fence line of MHL125 and 135 with MHL147 Alignment of 31 fence posts on north side of town extending Boundary fence line of MHL198 and beyond west beyond surveyed area, length 240 m. intersects with F45 Alignment of 27 fence posts running approx north / south Boundary fence line for 530 m along former Tennis Court St

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Appendix A

236

Structural Features Feature ID Brief description F1 Timber scatter, 9 m × 13 m with approx 160 timber artefacts ranging from 10 cm to 1 m in length F25 16 stumps and 14 depressions in rows extending approx 18 m × 18 m F40 Drainage feature extending approx 5 m associated with an arrangement of 10 stumps approx 2 m × 4 m F2 Concentration of 56 stones and bricks, 5.4 m × 4.5 m F4 Cluster of 14 timber artefacts, 8.7 m × 4.8 m F5 Concentrated ceramic scatter 1.8 m × 1.8 m F6 Alignment of 7 bricks, 2.8 m in length

F8

F9

F10 F26 F31 F33

F34

F35

F42

F49

F50

F51

Stone alignment 12 m in length containing 30 stones, with outlying stone and brick extending feature to 29 m Raised concentration of approx 160 stones with clear edge on western side, 6.9 m × 4 m, also containing brick, ceramic and glass artefacts 16 stumps in rows, extending 11.6 m × 9.1 m

Identification Structural remnants associated with MHL 125 (Berrie’s hotel)

Possible fireplace and structural remnants associated with MHL129 Possible structural remnants associated with MHL 169 Possible kerbing associated with MHL 147 (Post Office) Possible fireplace associated with MHL130

Structural remnants associated with MHL137 Concentrated cluster of 43 loose bricks extending 8 m Structural remnants x 3.9 m, underlain by portions of a brick floor associated with MHL136 Cluster of approx 45 bricks, 2.7 m × 2 m Sparse scatter of bricks, displaced stumps and metal. Structural remnants ceramic, glass and citrus tree also present associated with MHL 133 and 134 Concentrated platform of approx 60 pieces of Structural remnants decomposing concrete, 7.1 m × 3.8 m, ~0.2 m high in associated with MHL198 northern portion (Butchers shop) Structural remnants consisting of: 2 upright post Structural remnants 10.75 m apart; 2 prone timber posts; and an associated with school arrangement of 4 posts and a beam approx 1.5 m × building 0.9 m, situated 37 m north west of uprights 6 stumps and 24 stump holes in alignment, extending Structural remnants across area 11 m × 14 m associated with MHL135 (assembly rooms) Raised area 14 m × 17 m consisting of 5 gravel strips, Structural remnants each approx 2.5 m × 1 m, with heavy scatter of timber, associated with later brick and stone (F50) to the east, the eastern extremity Blacksmith area has a set of four stumps in rectangular arrangement approx 0.8 m × 0.8 m. associated ditches frame the gravel strips in the west, extending over 38 m north -south and turning east, to meet main ditch (F3) Stone arrangement containing 10 stones in roughly rectangular pattern, approx 1.5 m × 0.8 m. 15 other stones distributed externally Fenceline and remnant rose bush Granny Bayntun’s cottage

Appendix A

237

Composite Features  Feature ID Brief description F32 Stump and fencepost concentration, approx 5 m in diameter, up to 1.5 m in height, containing 81 identified artefacts F38, F46, Artefact concentration in north ditch, extending F47, F48 approx 50 m × 30 m. recorded in four quadrants

Identification Dump for cleared stumps and fencing Composite of artefact concentration in ditch at north end of town flat

Appendix B

Identified Features in Industrial Area Mining Remnants Feature ID F18

F19

F20 (a) F20 (c)

F20 (d)

F20 (e)

F20 (g) F20 (h) F20 (i)

Identification Mine shaft and associated structure (NE tunnel) Kent’s Knob shaft

Brief description Adit originally possibly 1 m × 1.5 m, covered over with gravel, small opening still visible; 2 timber posts and flattened area located approx 25 m south of adit Adit approx 1 m × 1.5 m with horizontal tunnel extending into hillside. Quantity of core trays and cores from recent drilling in evidence Collapsed tunnel Located on Chowey Creek upstream from Kents Knob, and on old map WP 33 Main Shaft Vertical shaft approx 3 m in diameter; covered over on the surface; original ladders stored 50 m west of shaft; equipment from 1980s exploration present at head Open cut “glory hole” Open cut shaft approx 15 m × 5 m descending to a depth of more than 30 m. tunnel openings are observable on east and south west walls (Fig. 5.16) Main haul tunnel and adit Adit approx 2 m in diameter, with horizontal tunnel extending approx 200 m into hillside bearing west; joins main shaft and open cut; rails in situ (Fig. 5.17) Mine shaft (No. 1 & 2 Filled in with crushed stone located 160 m NNW of main North) shaft, 72 m NE of open cut Small Adit Adit with internal timber frame, opening approx 1.5 m × 2 m, located between main shaft and stamper foundations Ventilation shaft Small vertical shaft, estimated approx 1.5 m in diameter, located between main shaft and stamper foundations (continued)

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Appendix B

240 Feature ID F20 (j) F44

Identification Richardson Shaft (No. 1 & 2 South) Mine shaft – town side of Mount Shamrock (Ellen tunnel)

Brief description Filled in with crushed stone – Located approx 100 m south of main workings top side of hill Adit in south west side of Mount Shamrock hill, opening approx 2 m × 1 m

First Battery Area Feature Identification F22 (a) Stone furnace

Description Stone structure, 2.6 m × 2.6 m × 3.4 m, opening 1.25 m × 0.4 m in south side, interior area approx. 1 m × 1 m extending below ground level; pipe and hole 0.15 m in diameter, located on west side; vent hole in roof. Iron chimney extension, 0.55 m in diameter, 0.97 m in length resting in cutting. Probable furnace for retorting of amalgam (Fig. 5.19) Underground flue, 7.8 m in length running east from stone furnace F22 (b) Flue (possibly related to boiler to a stone structure with brick arch, 2.6 m × 2.6 m, partially below ground level, but extending 0.6 m above ground. 5 timber uprights seating) associated with flue F22 (c) Battery building Eight upright posts extending 12.5 m × 11 m. post surround large and cutting earthworks, approx. 12 m × 6.5 m, excavated 1.8 m below ground level on west side and 0.85 m below ground level on east side F22 (d) Processing Disturbed ground extending east from cutting and flue, approx. foundations 46 m × 27. No substantive foundations identifiable. Concrete, metal, bricks stone and glass artefacts distributed across the area F37 Manager’s house Flat stone paved area 1.2 m × 1.7 m with 7 pieces of iron sheeting, 22 bricks, and domestic artefacts such as ceramic and glass in surrounding area

Upper Processing Area Feature Identification F11 (a) Boiler

F11 (b) Pump foundations Steam engine foundations F12 (a) Stamper battery foundations

Description Cornish boiler, 7.8 m × 1.8 m mounted in brick housing, underlain by flue channel extending 3.6 m behind boiler to exhaust chamber (Fig. 5.22) Concrete structure 4.2 m × 1.2 m, with bolts fixed in top surface. Intricate concrete structure, in two sections 1.1 m × 2.85 m, and 3 m × 6 m with slot for flywheel and locating bolts for mounting Concrete structure, 4.975 m × 2.8 m × 1.12 m, consisting of 3 concrete plinths, each approx. 0.6 m × 2.8 m × 1.12 m joined with central wall. 4 locating bolts in place. Foundation partially obscured by earthworks and remnant poles (continued)

Appendix B

241

Feature Identification F12 (b) Foundation of Huntingdon Mill

F12 (c) Building and foundations of gravity separation equipment F12 (d) Dispersed components of processing equipment F13 (a) Cyanide tanks

F13 (b) F13 (c) F13 (d) F13 (e) F21 Office

F15

‘Assay office’

F16

‘Store’

Description Concrete structure 6.6 m × 4 m × 1 m with circular foundation 3.7 m in diameter with channels around circumference containing bolts. Bolts and seating for drive motor on southern edge of foundation Levelled area approx. 8 m × 14 m with structural remnants consisting of 8 upright poles and 3 prone poles, and 1 concrete stump, some poles with fastening components. Four light timber and concrete foundations, possibly to support gravity separation or grinding equipment, located on the main floor of the area 7 metal panels associated with processing equipment are dispersed across the area. Surrounds for an engine; top cover and 3 side panels of the Huntingdon mill, 2 side panels for the stamper battery Remnants consist of 2 circular concrete tanks set into hillside, 7.4 m diam × 1.9 m above ground, with 3 small pipes still in place (Fig. 8.4) Square concrete feed tank, 2.75 m × 4.6 m × 1.8 m set into hillside Small portable boiler, 4.25 m × 1.15 m diam. Flat concrete floor approx. 9.5 m wide, now deflated onto bank Large area of cyanide tailings downhill from the tanks Minimal foundations consisting of: 2 small portions of brick foundation 0.5 m × 0.27 m approx. 4 m apart; small portion of drystone wall, 3.9 m in length; brick paved area 0.75 m × 1.45 m, two posts 2.2 m apart and additional brick scatter extending over approx. 8 m Concrete footings 10.1 m × 10.7 m, with evidence of upright timber posts in the corner of the building foundation. Interior brick paving and concrete flooring with two brick furnaces with remnants of charcoal located in NW (0.8 m × 1.5 m × 0.2 m) and SW (1.2 m × 2.6 m × 0.4 m with gratings) corners of the building 8 m × 10 m brick paved floor, evidence of concrete rendering, interspersed with a pattern of earth patches. Four upright timber stumps and two fallen timber poles were also present. Remnant brick walling in evidence in the NW corner

Lower Cyanide Area Feature Identification F24 (a) Cyanide tanks F24 (b) Feeder tank F24 (c) Lower tank

Description 5 concrete rendered rectangular tanks 5.3 m × 2.4 m, approx. 0.9 m in depth, set into ground, laid out in series Concrete tank 2.6 m × 2.4 m × 1.4 m, set above ground, now fallen into erosion gully Concrete rendered rectangular tank, 2.4 m × 3.1, set 2 m below level of cyanide tanks, possibly water or final treatment (continued)

242 Feature Identification F24 (d) Earth charge ramp Earth embankment Tailings excavation F24 (e) Structural remnants

Appendix B Description Earthworks 18 m west of tanks 7 m × 16 m × 2 m elevation at highest; 2 timber stumps, one prone timber pole, four tie rods at base of embankment. Probable boiler location Raised earth embankment approx. 40 m long 3 m width × 0.8 m high, pieces of rail located adjacent to embankment Excavated area consisting of cyanide tailing, approx 10 m north of tanks, hole approx. 20 m × 10 m Structural remnants consisting of 11 timber posts and poles

Outlying Industrial Features  Feature Identification Description F7 Road and pathway along Road approx. 350 m along eastern edge of town flat, joining town and to mine with pathway, approx. 180 m in length, extending north of town flat along small path across gully and around eastern edge of Mount Shamrock F14 Metal scatter Sixteen metal furnace bars scattered across an area 5 m × 7 m, adjacent to Didcot Creek. Suggested as the location of a boiler removed for scrap (Jeff Berrie, landholder pers. comm. 20/4/2006) F23 Road from Kent’s Knob Track extending approx 225 m around base of Mount to lower cyanide and to Shamrock from Kent’s Knob, along roadway and main track embankment along creek to crossing near first battery site F27 Tent/building platform Flattened area approx 11.4 m × 3.9 m, containing 4 posts, together with small quantities of brick and metal, located approx. 35 m west of first battery site F28 Tent/building platforms Excavated terrace approx. 5.2 m × 3 m, with areas of brick and stone floor/step, located approx. 50 m west of first battery site F29 Tent/building platforms Excavated terrace approx. 3.9 m × 3 m, with small scatter of stone, located approx. 70 m west of first battery site F30 Lime Kiln Stone structure approx. 0.4 m × 1.3 m × 1.6 m built into steep gully, with gap at base, furnace bars found adjacent to structure

Sources

Periodicals and Directories Annual Report Department of Mines, 1886–1935 The Brisbane Courier, 1886–1933 Census of the Colony of Queensland, 1886 and 1891 Courier Mail, 1933–1935 Eidsvold Reporter GSQ Commodity Files, Mount Shamrock Maitland Mercury Queensland Government Gazette, 1890–1901. Government Printer, Brisbane. Queensland Government Mining Journal, 1900–1935. Government Printer, Brisbane. Queensland Parliamentary Votes and Proceedings The Maryborough Chronicle, 1890–1897. Maryborough, Queensland. Pugh's Almanac and Queensland Directory, 1890–1901. Brisbane. Statistics of the Colony of Queensland, 1886–1935. Government Printer, Brisbane. The Wide Bay and Burnett News, 1886–1930. Maryborough, Queensland. Unsettled pastoral district of Burnett. Department of Natural Resources (MAP).

Personal Communications Ann Bayntun, Grandaughter in law of Herbert Bayntun 22/7/2006, History of Bayntun family. Recorded by G. Mate, at Maryborough Bert Bayntun, Grandson of Herbert Bayntun 3/7/2006, Oral history of Bayntun family. Recorded by G. Mate, at Maryborough Jeff Berrie, grandson of Thomas Berrie, current landholder 2/2/2006 Oral history of Berrie Family, Recorded by G. Mate, at Mount Shamrock. © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 G. Mate, Mining the Landscape, Contributions To Global Historical Archaeology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-12906-3

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Sources

26/4/2006 Description of activities on property. Recorded by G.  Mate at Mount Shamrock. Robert Berrie, grandson of Thomas Berrie, son of Norman Berrie 2/2/2006, 3/2006 Oral history of Berrie Family, Recorded by G. Mate, at Mount Shamrock. Eddie Brockway, retired miner and council worker 27/9/06 Oral history of Mount Shamrock, and description of archaeological remnants collected at Mount Shamrock. Recorded by G. Mate, at Mount Shamrock and Biggenden Julian Nott, Gayndah Historical Society, 16/01/2005, 16/12/2005 History of mining in Gayndah district, movement of buildings through the district and account of the communes at Gayndah. Recorded by G. Mate, at Gayndah and Biggenden

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Index

A Aboriginal, 13–15, 25, 36, 42, 51, 57–59, 66, 71, 89, 96, 114, 157, 158, 173, 177, 178, 180, 190, 228, 229 Alaska, 55 Allendale, 76, 105, 212, 219, 220 Amalgamation, 63, 64, 127, 195, 197, 200, 203, 217, 233 Archer, T., 67 B Bayntun family, 143 Berdan pan, 199, 233 Berrie family, 122, 143, 144 Biggenden, 71, 72, 76, 98, 118, 122, 129, 136, 137, 154, 160, 168, 174, 176, 183, 184, 188, 204, 206, 212, 217, 221 Bilbrough, E., 91, 103, 108, 113–115, 118–122, 142, 143, 145, 147, 149, 157, 159, 160, 162, 174, 175, 177–180, 185, 189, 215 Bismuth, 73, 76, 201–203, 205 Boiler, 9, 87, 98, 127–130, 132, 137, 153, 197, 203, 204, 214, 216, 217 Brisbane, xv, 57, 62, 66, 71–73, 76, 104–107, 112–114, 122, 127, 129, 134, 155–157, 159, 161, 162, 168, 174, 176–178, 181, 185, 195, 207–209, 215, 217, 219–224 Bundaberg, 2, 76, 120 C California, 25, 41, 52, 54–56, 64 Cania, 69, 72–74, 76, 77, 119, 137, 158, 168, 222

Cape River, 53, 177 Chain of operation, 85, 91 Charters Towers, 2, 60–62, 65, 106, 119, 132, 133, 163, 176, 185, 220 Chlorination, 64, 65, 129, 130, 198–203, 214, 215, 233 Chowey, 68, 76, 92, 103, 105, 134, 158, 160, 168, 173, 174, 176, 178, 181–184, 206, 212 Cinnabar, 73 Coal, 42, 60, 136, 206, 207, 234 Colonial, 2, 3, 13–17, 28, 29, 38–40, 43, 51–78, 87, 88, 103, 114, 141, 142, 145, 155, 156, 158, 159, 161–164, 167, 172, 175–178, 185, 189, 191, 195, 196, 206, 207, 211, 217, 219, 220, 222–224, 227, 230, 231 Craven, E., 107, 152, 155, 162, 206 Cyanide process/processing (cyanidation and cyaniding), 62, 64, 65, 130, 136, 200, 202–207, 214, 215, 233 D Degilbo, 67, 68, 71, 76, 103–138, 154, 157, 173, 174, 177, 178, 182–184, 188, 190, 214 E Eidsvold, 29, 67, 71, 72, 74–77, 110, 137, 153, 158, 159, 162, 168, 175, 176, 184, 206, 208, 211 Experiential, vii, 37, 84, 90, 91, 99, 167, 186, 189, 231

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260 G Gayndah, 58, 66, 68, 71, 72, 76, 77, 104, 106, 107, 114, 120, 122, 124, 133, 134, 154, 160, 168, 174, 176, 178, 183, 184, 188, 206, 217 Geological Survey of Queensland (GSQ), xv Gold rush, 2, 13, 14, 17, 51–56, 59, 60, 70, 74, 78, 103, 178, 231 Gravity separation, 63, 64, 127, 129, 130, 197, 199, 200, 203, 214, 234 Great Britain, 53, 57 Griffith, S. Sir, 69, 134, 155, 220 Grinding, 63, 64, 129, 199, 200, 214, 215, 233, 234 Gympie, 53, 60, 62, 65, 73, 104, 106, 124, 132–134, 159, 161, 168, 176, 185, 195, 208, 219, 222 H Hill, W.R.O., 6, 52, 53, 55, 75, 122, 206 Historical archaeology, vii, viii, 4, 13, 14, 24, 39–43, 90, 229, 231, 232 Homestead leases, 68, 70, 72, 73, 87, 93, 94, 109, 121, 133, 149–151, 155–157, 167, 169, 171, 178, 181, 183, 212 I Indigenous, 28–30, 37, 39, 42, 55, 57, 78, 177, 179 Industrial landscape, 5–7, 83, 87, 91, 96, 168, 214, 223 K Korn, F., 107, 114, 115, 144 L Lalonde, J., 105, 107, 114, 120, 127–129, 143, 152, 162, 178, 197, 200 Landscape, vii, viii, 1–17, 23–44, 51, 65–69, 71, 72, 75, 77, 78, 83–93, 96, 98, 99, 108, 124, 130, 137, 138, 141–164, 167–191, 193–196, 210–224, 227–232 Learoyd, F., 122, 151, 203, 210, 212 Legislation, 52, 58, 59, 67, 69, 72, 73, 78, 155, 156, 158, 160, 162, 207 London, 70, 198, 201, 202, 209, 219–221

Index M Maryborough, xv, 2, 23, 66, 76, 77, 104–108, 110, 112, 113, 118, 120, 124, 126–129, 133, 134, 141, 143, 145, 152, 153, 155, 159, 161, 162, 168, 174, 177–179, 183–185, 188, 197, 205, 206, 208, 209, 217, 219, 223, 224 McGhie, J., 107, 113, 122, 124 McIlwraith, T., 69, 75, 162, 220 Mercury, 58, 63, 64, 73, 197, 217, 233, 234 Miners rights, 155 Mining, vii, viii, xv, 1–17, 23, 28, 29, 38, 42, 43, 51–78, 83, 85, 86, 88, 89, 91, 92, 94, 96–99, 103–106, 108, 110, 120–122, 124–127, 132–134, 136–138, 141–143, 147, 150–164, 167–169, 171–174, 176, 177, 179–181, 183–185, 189–191, 193–197, 200, 203, 205–224, 227–232, 234 Mining Warden, 73, 76, 91, 104, 107, 114, 122–124, 133, 135, 137, 143, 152, 153, 162, 179, 184, 196, 206, 207, 233 Monal, 71, 74–76, 151, 158, 162, 176, 184 Monto, 72, 74, 76 Mortleman, J., 106, 107, 112–115, 143 Mount Morgan, 2, 60, 62, 176, 185, 203, 215, 220, 224 Mount Ophir, 93, 105, 106, 183, 212, 220–222 Mount Perry, 71, 72, 75–77, 118, 137, 158–160, 162, 168, 184, 222 Mount Shamrock Gold Mining Company, 133, 159, 208, 209 Movement, vii, 5, 6, 28, 29, 32, 33, 35, 51, 53, 55–57, 65, 69, 74, 76, 78, 86, 90, 92, 97, 106, 143, 154, 159–161, 164, 167, 172, 174–176, 179, 181, 184, 189, 190, 193, 194, 208, 211, 212, 216, 217, 227, 229, 230 N Native Mounted Police (NMP), 58, 66, 157 New South Wales, 4, 9, 12, 52, 53, 55, 57–59, 66, 71, 73, 175, 185, 219 Northern Territory, 53 P Palmer River, 2, 12, 53, 56, 59, 60, 62, 69, 73, 74, 106, 133

Index Paradise, 2, 9, 14, 15, 76, 77, 93, 107, 110, 113, 115, 117, 120–122, 124, 134, 137, 143, 147, 151, 153, 154, 158, 160, 161, 164, 168, 173–176, 179, 183, 184, 188, 203, 206–212, 217, 221 Parry, W., 107, 114, 115, 143, 144, 148, 151, 159, 196, 205, 212 Parry–Okeden, W., 104, 155, 162, 195, 206 Premier of Queensland, 69 Protector of Aborigines, 104, 206 Q Queensland Government, xv, 60, 65 R Railways, 2, 38, 55, 72, 77, 133, 134, 145, 183, 184, 207, 217 Ravenswood, 60, 62, 106, 119, 211 S Scale, 1, 6, 23, 30, 37–39, 41, 51–53, 55, 56, 62, 63, 65, 77, 86, 93, 105, 106, 114, 132, 136, 137, 141, 154, 157, 159, 162, 163, 167, 168, 175, 176, 181, 183–185, 191, 196, 200, 210, 229–231 Sensory, vii, 28, 189, 211, 212, 215–216, 223 Silver, 62, 73, 76, 77, 105, 212, 219, 220, 233 South Africa, 51, 52, 54–56, 62–63, 196

261 South Australia, 55, 71 Space, 4–6, 8, 13, 24–27, 31–33, 35–43, 52, 58, 84, 85, 88, 89, 125, 130, 141, 149, 152–154, 157, 162, 164, 167, 171–173, 175, 176, 178, 179, 216, 228, 231, 234 Stamper battery, 64, 96, 127, 128, 130, 189, 193, 195, 200, 214–217, 234 T Tasmania, 12, 43, 55, 71, 210 Technology, vii, viii, 1, 4–6, 10–14, 16, 17, 38, 51, 53, 62, 63, 65, 78, 85, 86, 91, 92, 130, 162, 184, 185, 190, 194–207, 209, 210, 227, 230–232 U United Kingdom, 8, 162, 222 V Victoria, 4, 6, 14, 52–57, 59, 60, 71, 110 W Western Australia, 12, 53, 55, 71 Wilderness, vii, 28, 30, 31, 163, 167, 172, 177–179, 181, 190, 191, 223, 228 Williams, P., 71, 114, 115, 144, 148, 159, 187, 197, 205