1874 Ellen applied to rejoin the State Education system, which sent her to Kangaroo Flat, near Bendigo. At this point her story repeats itself, becoming again a tale of bureaucracy, intransigence, and jerrybuilt school buildings.
This school consisted of an eccentric but sound brick building, for the use of the male teachers and students; and for the females a weatherboard ‘lean-to’ which Ellen described as: “wet, ill-ventilated and dilapidated”. Conditions were so bad, she claimed, that “pools of water stood on the floor, and the chalk was literally washed off the black-boards”.37
The leaky classroom was not the only cause of stress, another being the Head Teacher, John Burston. Prior to Ellen’s appointment as first assistant he had expressed a bias against female teachers, and suggested that the job go to his brother Harry, who also taught at the school. The arrival of a middle-aged woman with a strong personality would not have impressed him.38
The situation was physically and mentally unpleasant for Ellen. She had not been given a teaching certificate, despite her previous experience, and was being paid at the lowest rate of salary for her position. Burston was trying to get rid of her, and it seemed she would soon be dismissed, as both he and the School Inspector found her teaching unsatisfactory. However, events took a dramatic turn.39
A dispute with some parents led to an inquiry into Burston’s conduct; which all teachers were obliged to attend. On 15 April 1875, on a workday which the inquiry had lengthened until 8.30 pm, with, as Ellen claims, most of the teachers “fasting from the morning”, Burston lost his temper. In response to being called a liar, he struck Robert Farman, the Chairman of the Inquiry, in the face and the pair grappled on the ground before being separated. From a Victorian viewpoint such behaviour would have been particularly offensive because of the presence of women. One teacher, Charlotte Toogood, had hysterics.40
Burston was immediately suspended; and Ellen Davitt, as first assistant, was placed in charge of the school. She was soon removed, however, due to the regulation that women were not to control schools of over 70 pupils. Harry Burston, who had also behaved violently during the Inquiry, was put in her place. Subsequently, to quote Ellen, there “was a vulgar affair at the Courthouse” in Bendigo, with Farman suing for assault. Burston was fined 20 shillings, and ordered to pay costs. Subsequently he was transferred to Taradale State School, as its Head Teacher.41
Ellen had what she described as a “somewhat sensitive constitution” and had found duties at Kangaroo Flat “fatiguing”, taking frequent sick leave. Now “her health gave way”, to use Allan’s words, although he did not explain the circumstances leading up to her illness. Within several months she was unfit to work again and applied for compensation.42
Her situation was desperate, for the old age pension did not yet exist and she was facing destitution. “I am a widow and stand alone”, she wrote. Certainly she had a case and she argued it well: “there is not a scullery maid in the Colony who would have stood to do her work in such a wretched place”. Compensation was refused, though, on the grounds that she had received in 1859 the sum of £500.43
Very likely Ellen told Anthony Trollope about these events. He visited Australia that year, where his son Fred was squatting in New South Wales. Ellen noted that “Mr. Trollope called on me”, at the school, during working hours, in early May 1875. Anthony’s account of his trip, published as The Tireless Traveller, describes a visit to the quartz mines of Bendigo. It does not mention Ellen, nor does she appear in his fragmentary diary of his earlier Australian visit, in 1871; nor indeed in any of his other writing. Their relationship may not have been close, as he visited her for an hour only. Incidentally, Trollope’s best Australian friend, George Rusden, had been a member of the National Board of Education during the Davitts’ time at the Model School.44
Ellen kept determinedly applying for compensation, and although “not equal to the fatigue of calling” on the claims investigators, as she stated in a letter of 15 Nov. 1877, supported herself by privately teaching ‘Drawing and languages’. On the 29th of that month, the Minister for Education declined to re-open her case. Thirteen months later she died of cancer and exhaustion, on 6 January 1879, at 62 Nicholson Street, Fitzroy.45
There was probably just enough money to transport her body to Geelong, where she was buried beside her husband, but not enough to inscribe her name on the vacant side of the joint memorial.
This omission was rectified by the Melbourne members of Sisters in Crime Australia, with the permission of the Geelong Cemetery Trustees and the Trollope family.
Ellen Davitt’s true memorial, though, is Force and Fraud – a unique and accomplished early Australian murder mystery. The Davitt Awards for Australian women’s crime writing, presented annually by Sisters in Crime Australian, is rightly named after her, for she was a significant pioneer of the genre.
FORCE AND FRAUD
A Tale of the Bush
by
Ellen Davitt
Chapter I
The Artist
“Take care, master, or you’ll fall into the creek; those old boughs are not always to be trusted,” said a labourer to a young man who, to aid himself in climbing a steep bank, caught at the branches of a tree; and the speaker to illustrate his remark, uprooted another at a little distance.
“Thank you, my friend, for your advice; but I shall go no farther at present,” replied the traveller, seating himself among the brushwood.
“These old sticks are of no good but to make fires,” continued the first speaker, disdainfully kicking away the uprooted tree.
“Leave it where it is, if you please; it is just what I want,” said Herbert Lindsey (for such was the name of the traveller).
The labourer, one Harry Saunders, obeyed, but he looked inquisitively into the face of the stranger, who, as he thought, must have a peculiar taste if he cared anything about a decayed tree.
It was a pleasant face to look at, as the features, if not strictly classical were remarkably good; a cheerful smile rested on the handsome mouth, and an expression of high intellect lighted up the dark grey eyes. This latter characteristic might have escaped the observation of Saunders, for his pursuits had never led him to the study of physiognomy, but when the stranger threw aside the large felt hat which had hitherto covered his noble forehead, the labourer was instantly attracted by an expression of goodness and candour: qualities which are equally appreciated by the unlettered and the refined.
Whether from some sudden feeling of sympathy, or from a desire to gratify his own curiosity, Saunders lingered about the spot, although he was evidently neglecting his duty – that of driving home a herd of cattle. And, when asked if he would be so good to remain a few minutes longer, he cheerfully replied, “Glad to serve you anyway, master!”
“Thank you; then just stand as you are. Aye, that’s right. Look me full in the face.”
“Why, it’s taking my picture you are!” exclaimed Saunders in surprise, as the stranger rapidly sketched the well-formed figure of his companion.
“Exactly; but don’t stand so stiffly; you were better before.”
“Ah, but I don’t know how to look; I never had my picture made.”
“Well, then, try to root up another tree; that old red gum by your side.”
“That fellow’s too strong. He won’t be pulled up this many a year.”
“Never mind, suppose you try.”
Harry Saunders laughed and pulled away with all his force; but the tree resisted his efforts. And then Herbert Lindsey laughed too, for he had obtained what he wanted: a fine spirited sketch, as the exertion