Tag: Stephen Hyde

Carpenter and Publican. Next door neighbour to James Dyson in Perth and witness at his first wedding.

  • Rename Canning Bridge

    Rename Canning Bridge

    Mr HYDE was the father of James Dyson’s best man at his wedding back in 1841. A few years after this was written, he was dead.

    Inquirer, Wed 23 Feb 1848 Page 3

    This is not the reason why I repost this 1848 article, instead it is to draw attention to some of the content, which I find shocking and offensive in the extreme. I was appalled to discover that once again our history has been whitewashed, our common heritage suppressed. I am appalled that Canning Bridge, the crossing between South Perth and Applecross has been denied it’s traditional name. I am outraged that we no longer refer to this portal as Hell’s Gates.

    The first bridge across this hellmouth was constructed in 1850. It washed away. The next one burnt down. There was another one which lasted from 1892 until 1938 when the ghost-fence we currently enjoy was erected.

    Hell’s Gate c 1906 {SLWA]

    J’ACCUSE!

    Why was I denied the opportunity to attend Hell’s Gate Senior High School? I mean, I think I did anyway, but WHY WASN’T IT CALLED THAT? Think of all those residents of green and leafy suburbs of Applecross, Ardross, etc. who miss out on paying their rates to the CITY OF HELL’S GATE. Write to your local member of parliament. Demand the name be changed. You are being denied your democratic right to vote for the Right Honourable Member for HELL’S GATE.

    So until you next run the gauntlet under the gimlet gaze of the pelicans of terror, consider now this short photo essay of the environs of Canning Bridge, the once and future Hell’s Gate*

    The approach of doom
    The abandoned shopping trolley of death
    The dead Jellyfish of horror
    The nightmare crossing
    Waters of Armageddon
    The point of no return
    Unspeakable horror
    The ducks of evil
    from whose maw no traveller returns

    *This article may have been written under the influence too much caffeine.

    Beware the pelicans of terror.

  • Dyson’s Corner (the First)

    Dyson’s Corner (the First)

    As a would-be historian, I am always torn between my desire to share the information I have collected and the desire to find that one final piece of the puzzle that will complete the story I want to tell. Most of the time, that final piece is not— and may never be— there, but what to do then? Should I hoard away what I have so far, or publish and be damned?

    If this is not your first reading of this page and what you are reading is different to what you recall, it means I have found some new evidence and re-written accordingly. It is why I chose a weblog to write up my material in the first place.

    If the original Dyson family in Western Australia was associated with any one place in Western Australia (other than the eponymous swamp in present-day Shenton Park) it was with Dyson’s Corner, in the town of Perth. One slight problem: there were two Dyson’s Corners, and the only element they possessed in common (apart from the residency of a family called Dyson) was that they were both located (but on different street-corners) in Murray Street, on the unfashionable northern side of the town.

    The first Dyson’s Corner from an old title deed. The measurement numbers are in “chains.”

    The first Dyson’s Corner was a parcel of land on the south side of Murray Street and the east of King street.

    James Dyson,  sawyer and timber merchant, finally came into formal ownership of the land on 24 January 1848, but he might have been in occupation much earlier than this, as a renter, possibly since his arrival in the colony back in 1841.

    The first European “owner” of this land was a mysterious figure called Charles Brown. He was allocated these blocks in 1840, but only the following year he announced he was planning to leave the colony. As I can find nothing further about him (other than that he was possibly a member of the Methodist congregation, was known for his fruit trees, and owned other parcels of land in the city) I assume he left some time after that.

    Inquirer (Perth, WA : 1840 – 1855) Wednesday 24 November 1841 p2

    James Dyson paid the sum of £12 for the property in 1848. His neighbours were William Ward, a brick-maker, (and foundation member of the Sons of Australia Benefit Society) also John Chipper, the town bailiff. The deed of transfer was witnessed by the colonial chaplain, the Rev. F. B. Wittenoom, who was also Justice of the Peace. But who did he buy the property from?  There in lies the question.

    Tracing early title deeds in Western Australia is difficult and expensive. Far be it for me to begrudge a professional historian being paid a very large sum of money to look up a private database for five minutes, but the resultant digital copies you receive, also at great cost for each document you request, were obviously made years ago on very sub-standard equipment. Here is the name of the person Dyson bought the “corner” from as it appears in my document:

    Can you decipher this name?

    John ? was a sawyer, as was Dyson. Were they business partners? When did John ? buy the property, was it from good ole Charlie Brown? Is that surname Stafford, Hollands, Hutton, or something else entirely?

    Its not Stanton, which is a shame, as  John Stanton (1797-1877), an early councillor on the Perth town trust, a prominent papist, retired soldier, policeman and barrel-maker would have a documented altercation with Dyson in a couple of years time.

    The Perth Gazette and Independent Journal of Politics and News (WA : 1848-1864) Friday 30 September 1853

    It would be nice to know exactly what the argument was about. Stanton grazed cattle within the Perth jurisdiction. Dyson provided pasturage and water for the Perth herd on his property at Dyson’s Swamp.

    A year before Dyson threatened Stanton, on the night of 2nd August 1852— a Monday evening— Dyson created some sort of disturbance in the street that also ended up in court. A month later, his neighbours right across the road, Stephen Hyde and wife Hannah decided to sell up. If the two events are linked, this was a sad ending to a long association. This couple had been witnesses at Dyson’s marriage ten years before. Maybe they did not approve of how he was treating his first wife now? Just to add a little spice to the mix, in September, Mrs Hyde was convicted and fined for assaulting a Mrs Staunton. Was this Staunton the mis-spelled wife of John? When John Stanton died in 1877, Dyson’s probable business rival Benjamin Mason (whose son had been shot by Dyson’s son) was one of his executors.

    Hyde (then a bricklayer) had tried to sell up previously in September 1850 (not long after the first convicts arrived). Changing his mind, he instead applied for the licence to turn his premises into a tavern, which he named “The Vine“.  Hyde eventually sold up to a man named Henry Alexander Towton, a former Parkhurst boy (forerunner to the convicts) who had well and truly made good. After the Hyde family had departed for South Australia in early October, Towton re-named the establishment the “No-Place Inn“.

    This is the No Place Inn, as seen from across the road from Dyson’s Corner [SLWA Collection]

    Towton’s son was born there the very same month. George Towton grew to be a famous horse trainer in the colony. He was present when one of Dyson’s own grand-children was killed in a racing accident in 1901. After George Towton died in 1906, Dyson’s son Septimus married his widow, but it was not a successful union.

    “Perth looking west from the town hall tower, 1885”BA1116/45 State Library of Western Australia

    There are no images of Dyson’s Corner from the time the family were in occupancy. The only known vision of the site is a part of a panorama from the top of the Town Hall dated to approximately 1885. The main house on Dyson’s corner is coloured red. On the other side of the road is the No-Place Inn in orange. A description of the corner from a few years earlier:—

    A first class 2-storey House, containing Shop and good Cellerage, Bakehouse and Oven ; also a 4-roomed Cottage, good Stable and Kitchen, and Shed to stable 4 horses ; fine Well of Water and a trellis.”

    The Western Australian Times (Perth, WA : 1874-1879) Tuesday 27 March 1877 page 3

    The four-roomed cottage had come with some additional land adjacent to Dyson’s corner that was purchased at some stage after 1869.

    In 1874 the whole property was mortgaged for the sum of £500 advanced to him by members of the Stone family through the Western Australian Bank. What ever the scheme this money was required for did not pay off, so the Corner and most of his other assets, including Dyson’s Swamp, had to be sold three years later.

    The location of Joseph Dyson’s Bakery, also known as the 2nd Dyson’s Corner.

    By 1883 James Dyson’s second marriage to Mrs Jane Edwards was well and truly over, and he had to move into the residence of his eldest surviving son Joseph, located on the corner of Murray Street and William Street. This was the second Dyson’s Corner. Whether James cast out Jane, or her step-son refused to receive her in his home, or Jane herself desired to be rid of the lot of them is not clear, but she went to work for John Liddelow, a general dealer and butcher as a housekeeper in his premises just a bit further down the road on the corner of Murray Street and Barrack Street. Liddelow was a social acquaintance, if not a friend, of her former husband, and might have thought he was doing someone a favour giving her a job. It would be a decision he would regret.

    Liddelow’s Corner {image: SLWA]

    The original Dyson’s Corner on the corner of Murray and King Street, post-Dyson ownership — continued a strange intersection with its former occupier’s fortunes. That will be the subject of part two.

    …continue.

  • Hello Sailor…

    Hello Sailor…

    Muddying the waters on the good ship Napoleon

    The Perth Gazette and Western Australian Journal (WA : 1833 – 1847) Sat 7 Aug 1841 Page 1

    I should be clear from the start, I am committed to the belief that James Dyson, the future merchant, land owner and Perth city Councillor was once a convicted felon who was sent from the land of his birth to serve out a seven year sentence in Van Diemen’s Land. Only then did he transport himself to the Free Colony of Western Australia to start a new life, some time in the year 1841. Having made this commitment clear, I have to acknowledge that my article of faith is based on a steady accumulation of circumstantial evidence and that there is a present no one piece of direct evidence linking Convict Number 931 with the son of Joseph Dyson, mill owner of Lancashire. There is however, a node in Dyson’s personal story, where the possibilities of “was he” or “wasn’t he” converge. The question then arises, was James Dyson then a sailor?

    The Perth Gazette and Western Australian Journal (WA : 1833 – 1847) Saturday 16 January 1841 p2

    On one subject all the sources agree,— James Dyson arrived in Western Australia on the colonial barque Napoleon, sometime in 1841. If he arrived in January, he came straight from England and was not a convict. If he arrived in July from Launceston, he most probably was. The difficulty with the January arrival is that a passenger list exists for this voyage, and James Dyson is resolutely not recorded among their number, not as a passenger at any rate; there is no listing of the crew

    Launceston Advertiser (Tas. : 1829 – 1846) Thursday 6 May 1841 p 4

    For the March departure of this vessel from Launceston to Fremantle, the manifest is not nearly so comprehensive. No mention of steerage passengers at all, although this is not unusual. So in summary, while Dyson may have been an unlisted passenger on the second voyage, there is also an undocumented space in the record for him to have been a crew member on either voyage of the Napoleon. Unlikely as I believe this to be…

    Your Choice:

    A correspondent, writing of the late Mr. James Dyson, who had resided in Western Australia for nearly fifty years, and whose death we recorded last Tuesday, says: — James Dyson was born in Lancashire, in October, 1810, and arrived in this colony in the early part of 1841, in the barque “Napoleon.” […]

    The Daily News (Perth, WA : 1882 – 1950) Saturday 23 June 1888 p 3

    or

    DYSON.— James Dyson, died corner William and Murray streets, Perth W.A., July 19, 1888, born Newton Heath, Manchester, England, October 15, 1810, arrived at Perth, W.A. July 1833, son of the late Joseph Dyson and brother of A. Dyson Bros., cotton spinners and calico printing mills, Manchester, England, councillor city of Perth nine years in succession, retired of his own accord, beloved father of A. Dyson (“Drewy”), West Perth and Joseph Dyson, North Perth, and 20 other brothers and sisters.
    R.I.P.

    The West Australian (Perth, WA : 1879-1954) Tuesday 19 July 1910 page 1

    or something else entirely?

    An anonymous whaling barque of the 19th century. Watercolour from the collection of the Australian National Maritime Museum [ANMM Collection 0000445]

    Captain Daniel Scott was owner of the Colonial Barque Napoleon, and sailed with it on its journey from London to Fremantle. As part-time Fremantle harbour master and full time colonial entrepreneur and merchant, Scott definitely deserves an article all of his own. But unlike the man himself, this time he is going to have to share. While he was the co-owner with a Lancashire consortium of businessmen (Ooh, is this a link?) he was not the vessel’s master. That honour belonged to a Captain Rutledge, who like Scott, also brought his family with him out to Australia on the Napoleon.

    Western Australia had been in the perpetual economic doldrums virtually since it’s establishment as an independent colony in 1829, and that was certainly the case in the early 1840s. For a number of years the great hope was whaling—The lucrative (and equally unsustainable) oil extraction business of the 19th Century.

    When the Penal Settlements of New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land were founded in succession by the British Government, in order to thin the Jails of England, which teemed with Criminals; the Colonies suffered much privation for many years, although supported by a large Crown expenditure. It was not till the leading Merchants &c. directed their attention to the Whale Fisheries that the Colonies began to erect their heads and breast the waters manfully ; THEN, the first dawn of prosperity beamed upon them with its golden hue[…]

    Swan River Guardian (WA : 1836 – 1838) Thursday 4 May 1837 p110

    The editor of the Swan River Guardian was actually one of Scott’s mortal enemies, so the ongoing purple prose, while mentioning the two on-shore whaling concerns that had recently been established, conspicuously failed to mention Scott was an investor in one of them. Neither of these companies were particularly successful. The Fremantle Whaling Company’s principal legacy is the tunnel carved under the Roundhouse on Arthur’s Head in Fremantle. This was the company Scott had invested in. The other outfit, the Northern Fishery Company was based on Carnac Island just off the coast. It also has a slight connection to James Dyson’s story. On 4 July 1837, six men were lost when their whaling boat was caught in a storm; a grievous loss for a settlement with so few population to spare. Two brothers died in this disaster; John and William Hyde were elder brothers to Stephen, who would later be James Dyson’s next door neighbour in Perth, and witness at his marriage.

    Even as this loss was being processed, plans were underway to take the nascent industry to its next level:

    A MEETING will be held at Hodges’s Hotel, Perth, on Monday next, to form another whaling company, on a more extensive scale than either of the two companies already established. It is proposed, we believe, to raise £3,000, in shares of £25 each, and to send this sum home for the purchase of a ship. It is much to be regretted that the amount cannot be as advantageously had out in building a vessel from our colonial resources.

    The Perth Gazette and Western Australian Journal, Saturday 8 July 1837, p 932
    Perth Gazette and Western Australian Journal (WA : 1833 – 1847), Saturday 6 April 1839, page 54

    Whaling ships already plied the West Australian coastline, and had done since before the colony was even established. The problem was, these were American ships from the US of A. Not a fraction of the take was returned to the colonial coffers and even the exorbitant harbour charges (collected by Mr Scott for a commission) merely induced them to found their own resupply depôts about the south west coast. To muddy the waters even further, one of these whalers who made frequent visits to Western Australian waters was also called the Napoleon. (WTF?)

    The Cornwall Chronicle (Launceston, Tas. : 1835 – 1880) Saturday 3 April 1841 p3

    Daniel Scott’s intentions for investing in the British vessel of the same name are not straightforward. In 1841 the barque Napoleon was eight years old, had been built in Jersey, and had plied the English Channel between that island and London. The ship had a re-fit in England before it sailed to Australia. She was capable of carrying 250 tons of cargo, the purpose of her arrival in Launceston in March 1841 was represented as collecting supplies for the new Western Australian settlement at Australind. During the Napoleon’s unexpectedly long lay-up in Launceston she was still being advertised as cargo and passenger transport, even while she was being re-fitted for whaling purposes.

    The site of the Union Wharf where the Napoleon was re-fitted in Launceston, Tasmania. Photographs 2017

    During this period of over two months, it becomes evident that being part of Captain Rutledge’s crew was not an occupation one could walk away from lightly. James Bannister was the ship’s cooper’s assistant. He was convicted of absenting himself from his vessel without leave and served ten days hard labour on the tread mill in the House of Correction for his pains. Would James Dyson have joined such a crew?

    July in Western Australia, when the Napoleon finally returned, was out of season for whaling. The unproductive time may have weighed heavy on the crew, for in October another sailor from the Napoleon was convicted of stealing a pair of boots and other articles belonging to the ships’ owner Daniel Scott. He was sentenced to three months hard labour.

    Rutledge got in one cruise up the north western coast of Western Australia, but returns were disappointing and on his return to Fremantle  he was summarily sacked by Scott. Rutledge sued Scott. On 16 March 1842, officers and crew were required in court to be examined by the Commissioner. The Civil Court trial was held on 20 April 1842. Rutledge lost and immediately left the colony. The editor of the Perth Gazette was irritatingly coy about the matter, but he was a crony of Scott, as was the justice who heard the case:

    “…We refrain from giving the partial evidence adduced in this case, but cannot avoid expressing our regret that the case should be brought before the public. “

    The Perth Gazette and Western Australian Journal (WA : 1833 – 1847) Sat 19 Mar 1842 Page 3

    The old Swan River Guardian and it’s editor had long since been run out of town. They would have covered the matter in meticulous detail, and then we would have known: Had James Dyson been one of the crew members who gave evidence?

    Nicholas Groves, the First Mate, was now promoted to master of the Napoleon by Scott on 3 March 1842, the new log book started this day survives and states the rest of the crew were not very happy about the change of command. Two days later a new contract was signed between Scott and those willing to remain with the ship. James Dyson’s name was not recorded among those who did so, nor is he mentioned in any part of the log transcription held by the Battye Library, Perth.

    The Napoleon as a whaler was mercifully unsuccessful over her brief career. She sailed from Australia in 1845 and out of the records.

    James Dyson on the other hand, appeared in the official records of Western Australia for the first time on 25 October 1842 —on the occasion of his marriage.

    His nautical service, like his convict service, not conclusively proven.

    And amen to that!
  • Too outrageous a coincidence?

    Too outrageous a coincidence?

    Searching for James Dyson’s first wife and finding instead the Children’s Friend Society.

    A little after a year since he arrived in the Swan River Colony, James Dyson,  a labourer in the town of Perth, married for the first time that we know of. Civil registration of Births, Marriages and Deaths only begin in the Colony of Western Australia in 1841, so from this record—which is also the first tangible, formal document with James Dyson’s name on it in Western Australia—we know that the ceremony, witnessed by Stephen and Hannah Bridget Hyde (the couple’s neighbours in Perth for the next decade), took place on  25 October 1842.

    Dyson was lying about his age—he was at least eight years older than the twenty-three years that was stated on that certificate. Of his bride, we are forced accept her age at the time of marriage (twenty-two) is nearly accurate for we have so little else to go on with. She signed with a mark (x) which strongly implies she was illiterate. Her name was written down for her as Fanny Hoffington. She gave birth to four children with Dyson before her own death. There is no official death certificate yet located, or any mention of the event in any of the local newspapers. Her marriage, the birth of her children and her place of burial represents the extent of the official knowledge we have about her, and even that is riddled with contradictions.

    Her pre-marriage name is described differently on every single source record that mentions her:

    Marriage: Fanny Hoffington
    Birth of son George: Fanny Skeffington
    Birth of son Joseph: Fanny Hoffingham
    Birth of son William: Fanny Hovenden
    Birth of daughter Hannah: Fanny unknown (If they couldn’t work out her maiden name when she was alive, what chance do the rest of us have?)

    We have her tomb stone, but can we trust it?

    Her headstone in the old East Perth Cemetery gives her name as Frances, and confirms she was the wife of James Dyson, giving the date of her death. However this headstone was completed in 1901, a good half century after her demise.

    The secondary source for Fanny Dyson’s existence comes from a transcription of a family bible made in the mid 1990’s. I have not seen the original and I don’t know where it is now located, or if it survives at all.

    This transcription reads:

    Married 1st:     10.9.1842 Frances Overton HOFFINGHAM
    Died Perth, 12.5.1850, buried East Perth Cemetery.

    It adds yet another possible family name to the mix. So where did this Frances/Fanny Overton Hoffingham/Hoffington/Skeffington/Hovenden aka unknown come from?

    Having raised this question rhetorically, I still don’t have a satisfactory answer, but in researching the problem I came across a solution that could fit but is so outrageously improbable that it just couldn’t be true…  One solid bit of written evidence… or a DNA test… could swiftly demolish this house of cards, but such is the hand I’ve been dealt. (If you think I am overcooking my metaphors, you haven’t sniffed nothing yet…)

    There is no record of how Fanny (as I shall now call her—great-great-great-great grandmother being too much of a mouthful) arrived in the Swan River Colony. Records for servants, labourers, wives and children arriving were seldom made. If she had been a convict, there would have been some record. The ruling culture was unapologetically sexist, classist and would have felt no shame in any other *ist you would like to pin to them. Such was their overwhelming sense of superiority, any who did not measure up to their own self-image of importance, quite simply was not worth mentioning. Thus, arrival notices such as  published in the Shipping news obscures the identities of an extensive swathe of population who may have been in the young colony. Steerage passengers on boats were not named.

    This should not divert attention away from the fact that the population of the twelve-year old colony was still pathetic.

    By 1841, the Colony’s pitiful non-aboriginal population of under four-thousand men women and children was not just stagnant, it was contracting. workers were in critically short supply. The first colonists had bought out a labour force that they bound to themselves by contract. While under contract, it was illegal for a servant to leave a master’s employ. But after a decade, these contracts had mostly expired (or were about to), and those workers were then free to either work for themselves, or get the hell out of colony as soon as they were able, away from bosses far too much in love with themselves. Young female domestic servants were in especially short supply. They had a tendency to swiftly and inconveniently give birth to children, or get married— often both (but not necessarily in that order.)

    I suspected there had to be some scheme to at least attempt to replenish the work force and add to the stock of peons (much later on, convicts would be brought in, but not until 1850). If Frances was not an unrecorded child, or the domestic servant of some named immigrant, she might have arrived through some such scheme. Then I found the following article in a newspaper of the year 1837:—

    Swan River Guardian (WA : 1836 - 1838) Thursday 28 December 1837 p274
    Swan River Guardian (WA : 1836 – 1838) Thursday 28 December 1837 p274

    The date was about right. Might Fanny have be one of these girls from the Orphan School?

    I draw your attention to an inestimable book by Geoff Blackburn called The Children’s Friend Society: Juvenile Emigrants to Western Australia, South Africa and Canada 1834-1842.

    From it, I learned about the Children’s Friend Society, the first in a long tradition of sending to Western Australia, child migrants as a virtual slave labour force (useful until they got too old or their indentures expired). As always, the road to hell was paved with good intentions. However, the seventy-three children who were dispatched to the Swan River Colony (only seventy-two actually arrived) had a much kinder time of it than their brethren sent to Canada or the colonies at South Africa. The great majority of those sent were boys, which makes it much easier to account for the female immigrants.

    A Captain Edward Pelham Brenton founded the society in 1830, fired by the same evangelistic religious impulse of the era that motivated little Wilberforce to push through the laws in Britain abolishing slavery. Immigration was not part of the original plan: it was initially a scheme for training orphans for employment. Not just orphans, but all “the neglected and destitute children that infest the streets of the Metropolis” (p16)…  but when jobs could not be found for their parents let alone their children, the Empire’s colonies beckoned.

    By 1841, the society was defunct. Brenton was dead, metaphorically and literally from a broken heart. Allegations of mistreatment of young people sent, in particular, to the colony at Cape Town—sealed the scheme’s fate—the court of public opinion in Britain passed its judgement. But in Western Australia, perpetually out of synch with the spirit of the times, the society’s agent in the colony continued writing to  request more fodder orphans be sent, even after the head office in London was closed. This hapless agent was the Colony’s colonial chaplain, John Burdett Wittenoom.

    John Burdett Wittenoom. SLWA

    Wittenoom, who under no circumstances could ever be accused of being an evangelical, did have one redeeming characteristic in the exercise of his pastoral duties: He seemed to genuinely care for the welfare of the children that passed through his charge. The record shows that he followed their progress and checked up on them long after he had any official requirement to do so. His passion was children’s education (and perhaps music). He might have been the first to admit that he would have much rather have remained the master of a college back in London than take the job of token government religious leader in an obscure colony on the far side of the world. He would have had little enthusiasm for the religious drive of the disturbingly young wife of the Governor of that Colony, Ellen Stirling, but in the Children’s Friend Society they did share a common interest.  She was acting matron for some of the Society’s charges on the ship that brought her and her husband back to Western Australia in 1834. Although, like her soon-to-be monarch, Victoria, she was barely older than the young women she had guardianship of.

    Lady Ellen Stirling. National Portrait Gallery of Australia.

    The ‘orphans’ were supposed to be teenagers before they were dispatched to the colonies, and before that time, they needed to be housed and trained back in England. The young Princess Victoria was also a supporter of the society. In her honour, The Royal Victoria Asylum for Girls at Chiswick to the west of London was named. This was the Orphan School of that newspaper article.

    It is a bizarre quirk of this culture how these girls were guarded; age or experience counted for nothing. Being, or having been married, was all. This is Jane Austen territory. That Lady Ellen Stirling was only twenty, and perpetually pregnant, somehow made her a suitable guardian for other younger women. While she did have her newly-knighted husband present on that voyage, (though you wonder how useful Sir James Stirling would have been in the situation) that was not the case for the matron sent out on the “Eleanor” to look out for those twelve girls in 1836. She was a young widow of thirty with four very young children of her own. They accompanied their mother to Western Australia, and they were likewise sponsored by the Society for their passage to the Colony.  Wittenoom would also keep an eye out for their well being.

    Now for the big reveal:— All the orphan girls are accounted for and none are named Fanny or Frances. Anticlimactic, yes? Their Matron, in short order, remarried to a man in the colony named Edwin Knott, and the former Mrs Sarah Massingham took his name. The youngest of her four children to the late John Massingham was born in 1833 and was only aged four in 1837. In 1842 she was nine, so even allowing for the greatest elasticity in birth-dates for both parties involved, she could not have been the wife of James Dyson even though she indeed was called Frances (or Fanny) Massingham. She married a young labourer called John Wansbrough out in the Beverly district in 1856 but died in childbirth later that same year.

    MassinghamHoffingham… We are talking illiteracy here, so it might have worked… and it still might! The eldest of Mrs Knott’s children was also a daughter. In 1842, Emma Massingham was aged about fourteen. Now Dyson was in actuality aged over thirty years, so, if these two did indeed hook-up (to use an anachronistic term), it is quite a repellent concept to my thinking and would have been pushing things even by the standards of those days. They would have had, although, as a rôle model, the by now former Governor of the Colony who was thirty when he married his wife of sixteen. Wittenoom would not have approved of the match, I am sure, so that could be why Emma might have assumed the name of her younger sister and the couple both lied about their age to the registrar. They were not married in any Church service Wittenoom presided over. Then the deed was done.

    Not very convincing, is it?

    This is all pure supposition of course, and a long bow is drawn to even more ludicrous levels of tension when you discover after the first Mrs Dyson’s reputed death in 1850, four months after the death of her last baby, leaving three young boys aged between six and two, Emma Massingham wedded a man named John Henry Gregory in 1851. The Gregorys had ten children over the course of a marriage that lasted sixty three years. They both died only a few months apart, the year the Great War began in 1914.

    Of course, maybe Fanny Dyson never died, and she left her husband, as James Dyson’s next wife would leave her first husband*. Remember, we do not have her formal record of death even though she was allegedly interred in Perth’s only official burial ground and deaths were supposed to be recorded.  How could James have ever been persuaded to go along with such an outrageous scheme? But Dyson had secrets, many secrets, including one big one he would not have wanted coming to light just as the first convict ships were arriving in Western Australia. There was leverage to be applied, possibly enough for him to have seen his young wife ‘dead’ as the only alternative to discovery.

    This story is just that. It cannot be proven. Running a nose over the dead fish of feasibility reveals that this stinks. Yet so much in James Dyson’s  history, especially when Mrs Richard Edwards, the former Miss Jane Devling and Dyson’s eventual second wife enters the narrative, is equally pungent, if not actively odourific. The difference is for the outrageous tale of Mrs Jane Dyson, we can prove that it is true.

    Updates and future research directions.

    Since this article was written, an even more far fetched theory concerning the identity of the first Mrs Dyson has been developed. Unlike this one, I believe it to be true!

    • P.S. It turns out Fanny Dyson did leave her husband, but then she died.