Search This Blog

Follow by Email

28 Nov 2011

The Tuckingmill Hotel and the Return of Eliza

Eliza Hunter was one of the great unsolved threads in the tree.  Listed unhelpfully as Elizabeth Richards in 1851, seemingly her life is over at the age of 25.

We see her here stopping over with her brother who had the Tuckingmill Hotel.  This same hotel would kill the next-born Hunter children, and so the family would be off by the decade's end to Bogota to see if their luck would be farer there (ha ha).  Eliza/ Elizabeth Hunter we must leave as a forgotten petal strewn by life's roadside, along the way.

Now, among the gold mines of Bendigo, 1870, 20 years later, was a young man, John Hunter, newly finding his feet.  Having lost his father in Bogota (a trip that hadn't worked out so well), he was now doing extremely well, being part of the management of a fuse factory that made fuses for the explosions in the mines.  He'd had a certain fairy godmother help him (can you guess who?).

A young girl caught his eye: Mary Catherine Perry, another Cornishwoman.  She long sat in my tree, not really of any significance, just helping a branch get some momentum before the lower birth rates of the 1900s forced an early end to the family.  How could she suddenly become of significance?

Brett Pierce tells me the Return of Eliza, one of the 3 great Hunter women, all born in 1825, and all destined to dally with the great continent under the sea.  Eliza was the last of these and the first of in Australia.  She went out as a bride of 22 and returned a widow in 1850, losing her husband and then her son.  Briskly following her out were her two cousins, who were even baptised together: they oscillated between the southern gold fields and have over a thousand descendants today, though only one lived to enjoy them.

So, 1851 and the comings-and-goings.  What next for the Hunters and Eliza?  Eliza did not for a minute sit on her laurels and watch her brother sail for Columbia before keeping house for her elderly father.  The moment the census enumerator left the Hotel with a handkerchief over his nose, she must have made her approaches to Perry, a tin miner.  She would need to marry him immediately, give birth to several children, get back on the boat for Australia and be out of the out of the country leaving no ripples by the 1861 census.  And that's what she did.

I say no trace... but the clue had been staring at me from the page for years.  Even though Eliza was a widow, apparently barren in 1851, SHE turns out to have been the producer of Mary Catherine Perry - in readiness for the 1870 marriage, with little time to spare.  All this happens in just a few short years.  Because Mary Catherine was born in England but after the census years, it would be hard to work out who her parents were.

Eliza's later children were born in Australia, with her maiden name of Hunter clearly announced.
But what Brett in Australia didn't know, was where Eliza came from, as of course details of her first marriage never reared their head second time around. He definitely didn't know she'd come out before.

And what I didn't know in England, was that Eliza had had this second marriage at all, as guessing the name of a new man, and then further guessing that they had gone BACK to Australia, were all beyond my powers of imagination.  I was just sure she'd passed away, in England, leaving no trace, and no family.

Eliza had eleven children all told and many descendants who are just learning of her double emigration.  Her fertility is not quite in the same league as her fellower 1825 cousins, who had 95 grandchildren between them; but still very respectable.  She was now based in Victoria and it was through her brother-in-law that young orphan John Hunter got the work in Perry's Fuse Factory, Bendigo.

The main mystery left is where her mother, Mary Richards of Wendron came from.  Perhaps we can solve it.

This article appeared in November 2011.  The following month, a few weeks before his passing, my grandfather remembered something of the Tuckingmill Hotel.  This is an old man remembering a story from his grandfather, a sunny boy with many adventures in Cornwall and South America before he turned 10.  If we trust this young gallivanting boy, so full of life, unlike his siblings who died in the Hotel - it, had, newspapers, on, the, table.  That's it.  That's the extent.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thanks for commenting on my blog! Your comment will be live once moderated. You don't need to log in - just select 'anonymous' from the dropdown menu.