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It’s time we make a start in getting to know some important figures in the First Nations history of Benalla.


Lake Benalla. (Image by Mattinbgn, courtesy Wikimedia Commons.)

Warning: this post discusses issues which may cause feelings of pain and sorrow to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders, including the naming, discussion about, and an image of ancestors now deceased, and funeral rites. This post also includes the usage of culturally offensive labels for Aboriginal people which are directly quoted in historical context but do not reflect the language or opinion of the author.

Note: It is necessary to preface this discussion by recognising that the historical practice of conferring the status of ‘King’ and ‘Queen’ by Europeans upon senior Aboriginal men and women deserves to be interrogated as a complex act of colonial power on the part of the European invaders. Although use of these terms was generally designed to benefit Europeans rather than First Nations people, the historian cannot presume to know what these titles meant within First Nations communities, either in positive or negative senses. While this post is written in the knowledge of the complex cultural implications which attend the usage of terms ‘King’ and ‘Queen’ in relation to First Nations people it is concerned principally with the autobiographical details of First Nations individuals, rather than the modes of colonial European oppression.

In March 1860, an Aboriginal ‘King’ — King Branky — was buried by a waterhole in Benalla. Each Summer, the river at Benalla would stop flowing along its length, breaking into a chain of waterholes. At first, this caused Europeans to label it the ‘Winding Swamp,’ before they finally settled on the name ‘Broken River’. The largest of these waterholes at Benalla, at which point there was a crossing place, was known to Aboriginal people as ‘Mer-ry-an-gan-der’ [1] or by its shorter form, ‘Marangan.’ [2] For this reason, the Aboriginal people associated with the locality were often referred to by local Europeans as the ‘Maragan tribe’. [3] King Branky, a ‘Maragan tribe’ man, a ‘Broken River tribe’ man, was buried somewhere next to Marangan, or waterhole nearby. [4] More than three decades later, it was recalled by a local that:

The funeral obsequies consisted in his remains being wrapped (after having been doubled together like a pocket rule) in an opossum rug and put into an ale cask and buried on the bank of the Broken river, near the “dead-man’s hole.” The mourners were few indeed, consisting of blacks and their lubras.’ [5]

Little wonder that the number of mourners for King Branky would have been small: since the permanent arrival of Europeans in the district, the local Aboriginal community had been decimated, not least by the massacres and other violent reprisals undertaken by pastoralists and their convict servants in response to the Faithfull Massacre of April 1838; but also through European diseases, malnutrition, and a combination of alcoholism and interpersonal violence associated with a deeply traumatised community, dispossessed of their homelands. 

However, despite the level of social disruption experienced by the Aboriginal people of Benalla, King Branky was still buried in a manner that was, at the very least, culturally recognisable to local Aboriginal peoples: He was buried with his possum skin cloak, and was bound with his knees drawn up to his chest. The fact that he was buried in a cask may have been a concession to Europeans who wished to see him buried in something approaching a coffin, but I think it more likely an adaptation of traditional burial practices, which tended to ensure that the deceased was protected from direct contact with the earth, buried in a kind of chamber.

An eye-witness report by a European observer of a Aboriginal burial which took place at Scrubby Creek, near the Mitta Mitta River in 1858, provides a little more insight into local Indigenous funeral practice:  

…the wildness of the scenery was peculiarly in unison with the strange proceedings of these savages, in making their arrangements in silence for the burial, according to the custom of their nation. The lubra of the dead man sat near the corpse as motionless as a statue, her face covered by her hands, and seemingly unconscious of what was passing around her, while another female, apparently a relative of the deceased, gave loud vent to her lamentations. The body was now approached by the men who proceeded to bond the legs of the corpse on his breast, and then to wrap the body in a blanket, which they strongly stitched together. This being done, the corpse would not be recognised as that of a man, being only the length of the trunk, and from being doubled up in the manner described, had only the appearance of a clumsily made up bundle. The grave was then dug. It was about five feet deep, and with a tunnel or drive extending three feet inward from the bottom. A bed of leaves was then placed, on which to deposit the body. The body was conveyed to the grave on the shoulders of one man, the widow, leading the way, carrying a lighted torch of gum leaves, her face being daubed over with clay. The features of two others of the party were similarly begrimed. The corpse having been carefully deposited in the grave, the opossum rug of the deceased, his clothes, belt, &c., were placed on it. A framework of saplings was then formed over all, and on this several sheets of bark were laid, to keep the earth entirely from coming in contact with the dead body. After the pit had been filled up, two poles were stuck upright over it, and on these were placed the billy and quart-pot of the deceased. Not a word had been spoken during the course of the proceedings I have described, the whole party being apparently under the influence of that feeling of awe which the presence of death creates in more enlightened beings than these poor children of the bush. They afterwards moved off to their camp in single file, carrying with them the fire they had brought to the grave.’ [6]


King Branky was the son of ‘King Michie,’ and much like the latter day recollections of King Branky (which we will come to), recollections of King Michie recorded close to the turn of the century revelled in a common though tawdry literary trope of the era, which portrayed Aboriginal kings as sad figures who though having once been leaders of their people and chief among the ‘original proprietors of the soil,’ [7] had been subsequently reduced to the status of ‘king in name only,’ eking out their existence as if by the grace of Europeans.

Of King Michie is was recalled, his kingly duties had dwindled to a span—the once powerful Broken river tribe had been considerably diminished in numbers through migration, principally caused by the occupation of the country by the settlers; and no doubt numbers died from unnatural causes… Hence the king’s chief occupation was to display a brass plate, suspended from his neck, announcing that he was king of the Broken river tribe. He would hang about the Black Swan hotel, and if grog was not to be procured through his kingly position he would get it by cutting wood for the cook; and frequently he would draw the queen’s dowry in advance (with her consent), she having become an expert charwoman and laundress, for which occupation, she was always paid the same as if the work were done by white people.’ [8]

However, this description of King Michie belied a fact of which local Aboriginal people who had survived the European invasion of 1838 surely must have been aware — that King Michie had been a formidable leader in the local resistance to European invasion. In 1841, Chief Protector of Aborigines for the Port Phillip District, George Augustus Robinson, had been told by his most reliable Aboriginal informant in the region, Pallangan-middang man, Mul.lo.nin.ner (a.k.a. ‘Joe’), that ‘Wool-gid-yer-dow-well alias Big Micky killed Faithfull’s men.’ [9]

(Please note that since this blog was first written, linguist and Gunditjmara man Corey Theatre has assisted the Waywurru Women’s Collective in regularising the spelling of King Michie’s indigenous name to ‘Wul-kidja-duwil.’ This should help with the correct pronunciation. Thank you Corey!)

This was no small statement. The ‘Faithfull Massacre’,  in which an advance party of men and stock belonging to squatters George and William Faithfull had been attacked on the banks of Marangan on 11 April 1838, resulting in the death of eight of Faithfull’s servants, [10] had sent such shockwaves of terror through European pastoralists, their stockmen, hut-keepers and shepherds, that the pastoralists had petitioned Governor Gipps to, in Gipp’s words, either have his government undertake ‘Punitive war against the Blacks, or sanction the enrolment of a Militia for that purpose and allow them to be supplied with Arms and Munitions of War from Her Majesty’s stores.’ [11] Gipps had refused their call, instead setting up a ‘Border Police’ to police the road to Port Phillip — an act which did little to assuage the sheer terror instilled in the pastoralists by this single guerrilla attack.

And if we can safely acquaint the identity of ‘Big Micky’ with ‘Old Man Micky,’ it can be seen that only a few years later, Michie was one of several men (also including Pallangan-middang warrior Merriman), whom in mid-1842 was deemed responsible for the murder of a station hand (an ‘American black’) employed at Gray’s ‘Pelican Lagoons’ just south of Wangaratta; and that this attack at Grey’s station was only the latest in a string of attacks that had occurred throughout the Ovens and Broken River Valleys in the years since the Faithfull Massacre on stations belonging to unfriendly pastoralists. ‘Old man Micky,’ concluded the Port Phillip Patriot and Melbourne Advertiser, ‘has been the ringleader in all the depredations committed on the whites in that quarter for several years back.’ [12]

‘Nothing is known of how King Mickey attained his imperial position whether by right of birth or of conquest,’ wrote the author of ‘Recollections of Benalla’ in 1893. [13] However, the author might have more credibly written that no European wanted to know the gruesome details of how or why King Michie had attained, or perhaps retained from an earlier time, his position as a leader among Benalla’s remaining Aboriginal people.  

Despite acts of Aboriginal resistance, Europeans won the bloody but officially unacknowledged frontier war in the north east region of what would become Victoria. They had settled a town around Marangan, which by late 1852 was overrun with gold rush traffic en route to the Ovens diggings. However, despite these incursions into his country, King Michie had continued to live next to Marangan, in what could be considered, in retrospect, to be one of the greatest acts of civil defiance of European rule imaginable. 

King Michie’s dogged refusal to leave his country makes the senseless manner of his death at the hands of an ignorant (if not wilfully ignorant), European doctor all the more poignant: 

In the early part of 1853 the first medical gentleman took up his residence in Benalla… This medico was appointed Government doctor to the police of the gold escort and those stationed here. The king was taken suddenly ill, internally, and the queen left her residence under the old bridge, and waited on the doctor. After describing the king’s complaint a bottle of lotion was given her to take to his majesty, with the instructions that it was to be used externally. But in the absence of an interpreter, and lack of knowledge of English prescriptions, she administered the lotion in the same manner as their own crogick or doctor gave them wattle gum dissolved in water. The dose had the effect of terminating the earthly career of this potentate, in the short space of three hours…’ [14]

King Michie was also buried in the traditional manner, ‘wrapped in his opposum-skin rug and put into a hole in the then burying ground, at the corner of Barrack and Mair streets’ — the location of Benalla’s first burial ground, at the end of what is now Church Street (formerly Barrack Street), where it meets Marangan (Lake Benalla). ‘There was no demonstration of joy or regret; no condolences forwarded onto the Queen [Polly [15], or congratulations to the little princess; no tribal mournings or gathering of the clans, His death was a peaceful one, and his funeral unostentatious. Branky was appointed in his stead.’ [16]

benalla_old_cemetery_monumentPlaque marking the site of the former Benalla Cemetery, on the right bank of Lake Benalla. (Image by Mattinbgn, courtesy Wikimedia Commons.)


Of King Michie’s wife Queen Polly, we can only find traces:

From a record of her testifying at the death inquest of Joseph Worthington in 1847, whom she had found deceased in the room adjoining hers at the Black Swan Inn in January 1847, we can see that both she and the man she called ‘my coolie Old man Mickey’ actually resided at the Black Swan Inn, at least at that time. [16b]

Polly was also encountered at the Black Swan Inn by Mrs Campbell and her daughter as they made their way to join husband and father, Police Magistrate Archibald Campbell at the Spring Creek diggings (Beechworth) in mid-1853:

Hearing the sitting-room door open I looked up; a black head was popped in and out again. So ugly was the object that I gave an involuntary scream and covered my face, a proceeding which evidently caused amusement, for the owner of the cranium now showed itself, making a low guttural his­sing sound, meant for a laugh. Ashamed of myself, I ven­tured to look up again, and was introduced by my landlady to the queen of a tribe then at Bannalla, said to be handsome. Fancy a black woman, with hair long and stiff, hanging like porcupine’s quills over her shoulders, no forehead, eyes long and half closed, broad nose, mouth from ear to ear, with the contrast of beautifully white and even teeth, and you will have the picture of a handsome Aborigine—quite a belle. She was pleased with [young daughter] G., who, wiser than her mother, saw nothing to be frightened at in her, and made friends accordingly.’ [17]

Unfortunately, we know not how she died, only recollections reveal that it was soon after King Michie: 

Queen Polly, after the death of the king, pursued the even tenor of her ways, by making herself useful at the Black Swan, which place she found a comfortable asylum, and died in 1854. She was quiet, temperate, civil and industrious.’ [18]


Upon the death of King Michie, his son King Branky had taken the mantel. The same Benalla local who had written recollections of King Michie in 1893 speculated rather ungenerously that King Branky was only able to assume this position due to a lack of competition:

But how, or why, I could never understand. It could not have been because he was clever in diplomacy or in controlling or governing subordinates. He was by no means a finely developed man, and was devoid of everything brilliant or even crafty. He could certainly throw the spear with almost unerring accuracy, and give flight to the boomerang in many ways very surprising. He was an expert at swimming and dining, and became a good shot with the old muzzle loading gun. But these accomplishments were by no means in excess of the acquirements of most of the men of the same tribe. He was the hereditary successor but was a very a small contributor to the late monarch’s comforts. Therefore, how Branky became king is still unsolved. The Broken river tribe, having in a great measure dispersed and, attached themselves to other tribes, more distantly situated from the operations of the white people, appeared to lose caste, and dwindled into insignificance. Hence we must presume that Branky constituted himself king and that without opposition. If ever anything were truly nominal, Branky’s kingly position was, as tribal contentions had disappeared, and no warlike invasions were anticipated, nor were there friendly visits by other monarchs to prepare for. There were no internal disputes to decide, or petty chiefs to issue orders to. Thus, within a decade the once powerful Broken river tribe had became almost extinct, and its king, was king of nothing. 

Branky’s occupation principally was that of shooting wild-fowl, fishing and making opossum rugs, all of which were purchasable by anyone for money or tobacco. During the rainy season his chief employment was that of chopping wood for the residents, and spending the income arising therefrom in grog. Throughout the whole of his various undertakings, even to the consumption of grog and tobacco, he was most ably assisted by his lubra — Queen Sally — of whom nothing can be said in praise, more than that she, lived-up to late in the fifties, and never had a family.’ [19]

(A great deal more could be said of the inferences made in these recollections, but this will have to pass for now.)

However, Branky’s presence in Benalla also can be found, in warmer tones, in the retrospective diary of John James Bond, a gold seeker who visited Benalla where his uncle, William Carpenter Bond served as district pound keeper, during the gold-rush of the early 1850s. William Bond had a house in the centre of the fledgling town (at what is now 56 Arundel Street [20]):

The natives (Blacks) are just as we see them represented. A few are now camped a little in front of this house. Benalla. There are always some in the township – women washing and so on. Men shooting ducks, stripping bark and co. for nobblers of spirit. They all are naturally of a cheerful disposition … Branky was our favourite black man[.] He was often in [and] out of the house in very free easy fashion. All of us liked him. A letter told me that he was killed in a quarrel by another black with the Tomahawk. Saw Branky got to the top of a high large tree, climbing by means of small notches which he cut out as he ascended in the smooth bark just large enough for the great toe. This tree stands in front of Uncle’s house. (All the limbs cut off by Branky).’ [22]

Branky’s easy visitations at William Carpenter Bond’s house indicate that like his father, he had maintained a strong attachment to the banks of Marangan, and strongly suggests that Benalla’s ‘black’s camp,’ rather than being on the periphery of town, was located near its early centre — which is where Branky came to blows with his killer.

Benalla map correctedEarly map of Benalla, c.1850s (State Library of Victoria)

The circumstances of King Branky’s death were widely reported at the time, although not necessarily with great accuracy:

On Wednesday last [ie: 7 March 1860] one of the remaining few of the Broken River tribe of blacks received so much injury as to terminate his existence within about forty-eight hours after it was given. According to what I can learn, a blackfellow of the same tribe, called Jemmy, who is a very noisy fellow, and a great drunkard, went to camp, and, King Brankie not liking the noise, told Jemmy to be quiet, and got out of his opossum rug for the purpose of making Jemmy leave the camp, or be quiet; but Jemmy paid no attention to King Brankie, who, upon seeing that his orders were not obeyed, took a waddy for the purpose of trying the effects of physical force. Jemmy, not admiring the attitude of his king, stood upon the defensive with a tomahawk. From yabba yabba it came to blows, and, after various thrusts, cuts, and bad hacks, Jemmy succeeded in slaying his king, by driving his weapon through the skull.’ King Branky had not died immediately after receiving the blow to the head, however, apparently, ‘Dr. Lumsden made an examination of the fractured skull, and gave as his opinion that the death of the king was caused by a blow with a tomahawk, delivered by… Jemmy.’ [23]

The perpetrator, Jemmy, was arrested, taken to Beechworth and remanded in what Beechworth locals jokingly referred to as ‘Mr Castieau’s hotel’ (the Beechworth gaol). [24] His trial was set for the Beechworth Circuit Court of the Supreme Court on 12 April. [25] On the 11th, it was reported that an Aboriginal man and woman had been brought up from Benalla to Beechworth ‘per escort’ to give evidence in the trial. [26]

William Thomas of the Central Board for the Protection of Aborigines came up from Melbourne to assist. Of the trial, he would record in his journal that the male witness ‘would give no information, & appears perfectly sullen as tho’ if he spoke, the Blk in the dock would be hanged, or fearful of the consequence if he gave evidence… he knew nothing and would speak of nothing. In fact the court & Judge felt regularly annoyed.’ A doctor testified that King Branky could not have survived as long as he did after receiving the blow to the head from Jemmy, and the female witness testified to having seen Jemmy land the blow to the opposite side of the head than the fatal wound. Jemmy, who had good legal representation, was acquitted by the jury. [27]

Decades later it was recalled that King Branky had indeed lived much longer after the altercation with Jemmy than what had originally been reported; that Jemmy’s tomahawk blow to Branky had ‘chipped a piece of the skull clean away, leaving the thin “vellum” which covers the brain unaffected, except by exposure to the air. Branky lived some five or six days after, when mortification set in and he died.’ [27] Afterwards, as we have seen, he had been buried in the traditional manner, next to that water hole known as ‘dead man’s hole,’ on the banks of the Broken River.

(Author’s note: There was also a King Brangy who lived predominantly in Oxley, and who was, according to his sister-in-law Mary Jane [Milawa] who testified at his death inquest in 1882, born on the Ovens River and was ‘King of the Ovens Tribe.’ [29] King Brangy is not to be confused with King Branky of Benalla, although the two do appear to have been kin.)


The next Aboriginal man of Benalla who was strongly identified as a leader of his people — not referred to as ‘King’ but who publicly named himself at a parliamentary inquiry into Coranderrk Aboriginal reserve as ‘Tommy Micky, chief of the Broken River tribe,’ [30] was commonly known by the name ‘Tommy Banfield’ (sometimes this surname is written as ‘Bamfield’ and ‘Mansfield,’ while Micky is also spelled ‘Michie’). His Aboriginal name was Bertdrak [31] / Petrark [31a]. Europeans also referred to him by the nickname ‘Punch’. When married at Coranderrk Aboriginal reserve in 1868 to Eliza Werry, Tommy Banfield gave his father’s name as Michie, his mother’s as Lucy Neal, and his birthplace, Benalla. [32] His death certificate of 1893 named his father as ‘Old Michie,’ and indicated that he had been born c.1843. [33]

Tommy BanfieldTommy Banfield/Bamfield, aka Tommy Michie/Micky, Bertdrak, Punch, aged in his early 20s. (Photograph by Fred Kruger, at Coranderrk Aboriginal Station, Victoria, c.1865-1866; Museum of Victoria).

As with his forebears, Tommy Banfield’s very early life is unknown, but some misinformation exists. In a letter to the Chief Secretary’s department written by Ann Fraser Bon, former owner of Wappan Station on the Delatite River, and advocate for the Aboriginal people of Coranderrk, Bon said of Banfield: 

‘Punch about whom we have heard so much lately happens to be one of my boys. His mother the Chiefess of the tribe gave him to me many years ago to be my own “Picaninny” — He is a superior black — too much so for his “Protectors” — and when in my employ sometimes earns 12/ a day, with food and lodging.’ [34]

In this letter, Bon was attempting to impress upon authorities that Tommy Banfield was an intelligent and reliable man, whom she had known for a long time. However, in doing so she too much assumed a role of European maternalism: a quick check of some dates reveals that by the time she had arrived in Australia in 1858, Tommy Banfield was already around 15 years old, and especially by the standards of the day, no ‘Picaninny’. 

Tommy Banfield’s association with Wappan needs disentangling, for it creates an impression that Banfield was primarily associated with Taungurung people and country. Anthropologist Diane Barwick, in her well-known essay Mapping the Past — An Atlas of Victorian Clans 1835-1904*  suggested that Tommy Banfield’s father was Baalwick, and that it was ‘Baalwick [who was], remembered by [the] Bon family as “chief of Broken river tribe” and “chief of Delatite tribe” [who] took survivors [from Benalla] to … Wappan run c. 1844/7’. (Unfortunately she does not provide the evidence for this assertion). [36] In doing so, Barwick created the notion that Tommy Banfield’s father, Old Michie, and Baalwick, were one and the same person; which in turn, like Bon’s letter, makes it seem likely that Tommy Banfield lived on Wappan run from a young age. However, a newspaper article of 1934 clearly states that ‘on the pre-emptive [right of Wappan station] is the grave of old Baalwick, the chief of the Delatite River tribe.’ [37] This indicates that Baalwick was not King Michie (for the two men are buried in different locations, not to mention having been ‘King’ of different river systems on which each is buried), and that as such, the assertion that it was Tommy Banfield’s father who led Benalla’s surviving Aboriginal people onto Wappan Station in Taungurung country loses credibility (unless solid evidence that suggests otherwise can be found). As we have seen, King Michie remained on country, and died in Benalla in 1853. Neither was he alone.

Certainly, Tommy Banfield was named by the great Kulin leader (in Woi-wurrung language, ngurungaeta) William Barak to be one of his three successors, [38] along with Robert Wandin and Thomas Dunolly. This suggests that he was integrated into and accepted within the Kulin community. However, throughout his life, he maintained deep connections to people who, by any definition, were his kin, who lived in Wangaratta (and later also in Wahgunyah at Lake Moodemere) in non-Kulin-speaking lands. And not only did Banfield maintain contact with them, but he advocated for them to the authorities, as revealed in letters written by Banfield to the Aboriginal Board of Protection. For now, I would like to leave room for my colleague Megan Carter to closely examine the evidence, and explain these kinship connections (which are part of her own), as well as Banfield’s concerted efforts to advocate for those he referred to as ‘my people’ in Wangaratta. [39]


What we can discern from all of these stories is that Benalla did have Aboriginal men who identified as leaders of that community at least up until the death of Tommy Banfield in 1893. Two of these three men, Tommy Banfield and King Michie, are clearly documented as having done their utmost to protect their people under rapidly changing circumstances. We may be missing vital pieces of the historical jigsaw puzzle to enable us to more fully know whether the third individual in this picture, King Branky, had acted likewise. These individuals are worthy of greater attention and recognition, especially in the town built around their beloved ‘Marangan’, their great ‘Mer-ry-an-gan-der,’ Lake Benalla, in the town of Benalla. In getting to know these historical figures, there remains much more work to be done.


In critiquing an aspect of Diane Barwick’s essay ‘Mapping the Past’, I do not wish to downplay her substantial achievement. Barwick stated that she wrote ‘Mapping the Past’ as a crib for scholars, in the hope that others would ‘expand and correct my attempt at mapping the past.’ This is the intention of my efforts. She was a giant among scholars.

This is original written content that is copyright protected to ©Jacqui Durrant, 2020. You are welcome to share links to this blog, but please do not use the content elsewhere without permission. Thank you!


[1] Ian D Clark (ed), Journals of George Augustus Robinson, Chief Protector, Port Phillip Protectorate, Melbourne, 2014, entry for 23 February 1841.

[2] ‘Picturesque Victoria. Around Benalla.’ Ovens and Murray Advertiser, Thursday 24 July 1884, p.1.

[3] W.L. Murdoch, ‘Particulars concerning the blacks who is portraits appear in last issue,’ Science of man and journal of the Royal Anthropological Society of Australasia, Vol. 3, No. 3, 23 April 1900, p.44.

[4] ‘RECOLLECTIONS OF BENALLA. (by AN OLD RESIDENT.)’ The North Eastern Ensign, Friday 28 July, 1893, p. 3.

[5] ibid.

[6] ‘A Native Burial,’ The Age, Friday, 24 September, 1858, p.6.  (originally reported in the Ovens Constitution.

[7] The example of this extremely commonplace sentiment of the era, viz. that Aboriginal people were the original owners of the land, is quoted from: ’The Aborigines of Port Phillip,’ Southern Australian, Saturday 1 September, 1838, p,1.

[8] ‘RECOLLECTIONS OF BENALLA. (BY AN OLD RESIDENT.)’ The North Eastern Ensign, Friday, 14 July 1893 p.3.

[9] Clark, op. cit., entry for 8 February, 1841.

[10] Judith Bassett, ‘The Faithful Massacre at the Broken River,’ in Journal of Australian Studies, Number 24, May, 1989, p.18.

11] ‘SIR GEORGE GIPPS TO LORD GLENELG.’ (Despatch No. 115, per ship Superb; acknowledged by Lord Glenelg, 21st December, 1838.) reproduced in Australian Aborigines: Copies or extracts of despatches relative to the massacre of various Aborigines in Australia, in the year 1838, and respecting the trial of their murderers; compiled by the Colonial Office, Great Britain, 19 August 1839.

[12] ‘The Blacks,’ Port Phillip Patriot and Melbourne Advertiser, Thursday 29 September 1842, p.2.

[13] ‘RECOLLECTIONS OF BENALLA. (by AN OLD RESIDENT.)’ The North Eastern Ensign, Friday 28 July, 1893, p. 3.

[14] ‘RECOLLECTIONS OF BENALLA. (BY AN OLD RESIDENT.)’ The North Eastern Ensign, Friday, 14 July 1893 p.3. 

[15] ibid.

[16] ‘RECOLLECTIONS OF BENALLA.’ Friday 28 July, 1893, p. 3.

[16b] Joseph WORTHINGTON Death Inquest, Cause of death: Visitation of God; Location of inquest: Broken River; Date of inquest: 19 Jan 1847, Public Records Office of Victoria, VPRS 24/ P0  unit 4,  item 1847/75 Male

[17] ‘RECOLLECTIONS OF BENALLA.’ Friday, 14 July 1893 p.3. 

[18] ‘RECOLLECTIONS OF BENALLA.’ Friday 28 July, 1893, p. 3.

[19] ‘RECOLLECTIONS OF BENALLA.’ Friday 28 July, 1893, p. 3.

[20] Bond’s property is marked on an early ‘Township Map of Benalla, Broken River. No. 59’, c.185-? State Library of Victoria.

[21] This location is most likely land owned by William Carpenter Bond at the time, at 56B Arundel Street, Benalla.

[22] John James Bond, ‘Diary of John James Bond’ [Retrospective ‘diary’, based mainly on a few letters that John Bond wrote to his family, recording his visit to Australia in 1853-1855. (89pp.)], (as filmed by the AJCP) [microform]: [M724], National Library Australia, 1915, pp:88-89.
The pound keeper was William Carpenter Bond, pound keeper from 1848.

[23] ‘MURDER OF AN ABORIGINAL KING.’ Mount Alexander Mail, Friday 23 March 1860, p.3.

[24] ‘ADELAIDE. BY ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH. | Thursday evening.’ Ovens and Murray Advertiser, Friday 23 March 1860, p.2.

[25] ‘BEECHWORTH CIRCUIT COURT. April 12th, 1860,’ Ovens and Murray Advertiser, Wednesday 11 April 1860, p.2.

[26] ‘The Ovens and Murray Advertiser Published every Wednesday and Saturday. WEDNESDAY, APRIL 11th, 1860,’ Ovens and Murray Advertiser, Wednesday 11 April 1860, p.2.

[27] Dr Marguerita Stephens (ed) The Journal of Assistant Protector William Thomas 1839-67, Volume 3: 1839-1943, Victorian Aboriginal Corporation for Languages (VACL), Melbourne, p.266, Entry for 12 April 1860.

[28] ‘RECOLLECTIONS OF BENALLA. (by AN OLD RESIDENT.)’ The North Eastern Ensign, Friday 28 July, 1893, p. 3.

[29] Inquest into the death of King Brangui, VPRS 24/P Unit 445, Item 1280, Inquiry 6 November 1882, Public Records Office of Victoria.

[30] ‘THE CORANDERRK INQUIRY.’ The Argus, Wednesday, 19 October, 1881, [Issue No.11,025], p.6.

[31] ‘MR. BERRY AND THE ABORIGINES.’ The Sydney Morning Herald, Tuesday, 30 March, 1886, p.5.

[31a] John Mathew, MS950, AIATSIS.

[32] Victorian Births, Deaths and Marriages, ‘Marriage Solemnized in the District of Bourke, 1868, No in Register 362, 3 April, 1868.

[33] Victorian Births, Deaths and Marriages, Tommy Banfield, Death Certificate, Reg. number 10334/1893.

[34] Letter reproduced in ‘A philanthropist and lobbyist on behalf of Victorian Aborigines,’ in First Ladies: Finding Women in the Public Records Office Victoria, Revised edition originally published 1999© Australian Women’s Archives Project and Public Record Office Victoria, 2005.

The letter itself can be found at VPRS 1226, Unit 4, Item 82/ X 4907, Public Records Office Victoria. I have not cited the original, only the published transcription.

[35] Joan Gillison, ‘Bon, Ann Fraser (1838–1936)’, Australian Dictionary of Biography, National Centre of Biography, Australian National University, http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/bon-ann-fraser-5284/text8911, published first in hardcopy 1979, accessed online 14 September 2020.

[36] Diane Barwick, ‘Mapping the Past: An Atlas of Victorian Clans 1835-1904’ Aboriginal History, Vol. 8, 1984, p.128.

[37] ‘A Healesville Benefactress MRS. ANNIE F. BON, AND THE LATE MR. JOHN BON. Compiled from Various Sources by M.H.’ Healesville and Yarra Glen Guardian, Saturday 21 July 1934, p.3.

[38] Diane Barwick, op. cit., p.128.

[39] This is quoted from a letter written by Tommy Banfield, which is located in the Board of Protection for Aborigines Correspondence Files No. B313 Box 3 Item 42 Wangaratta and Wahgunyah, National Archives/Public Records Office Victoria.

Copyright Jacqui Durrant 2020.