Nestling at the foot of the mountain road from Sydney northward, just where it runs down to Wiseman's Ferry, stands an old house rich in fascinating traditions and weird legend. It is haunted by Ghosts, and at the witching hour of midnight echoes to a woman's piteous moans and the terrifying clank of convict fetters.
In the historic house, amid the beautiful scenery of the Hawkesbury, Solomon Wiseman, one of the most romantic figures in the annals of Australian early settlement, made his home. Here this ex-smuggler ruled his manacled convict servants with a rod of iron, and amassed wealth which enabled him, even in those primitive days of the colony, to live in the comfort and ease of an English country gentleman. He had in his service 300 assigned convicts, men and women, and he was known to the little community over which he held sway as "Governor" Wiseman. For nearly 30 years he was lord of the manor on the banks of the picturesque Hawkesbury, an autocrat with wide powers over his estate, and a generous host to the few travellers who braved the journey on horseback from Sydney to the Maitland district.
After his death in 1838 the solid old house which he had built was for many years untenanted save for the apparitions which travellers affirmed they saw flitting through his deserted apartments. Over 60 years ago the property passed into the hands of Mr. G. P. Black, and it remains in those of his decendants today. For most of that time it has been used as a hotel, and thousands of tourists are familiar with it under its present name of the Hawkesbury Hotel.
Extensive renovations are now in progress. The squarely cut stones which formed a substantial wall round Wiseman's estate are being utilised to build additions to the hotel, and to make way for these a portion of the haunted house has been demolished. The major part remains, however, to carry on the legend and to provide a link with Australia's early history.
It was in the spacious days when England was at death's grip with Napoleon that Solomon Wiseman first became notorious. He was captain of a small sloop cruising in the English Channel, and he and his vessel had a romantic career. He was employed by the British Government to carry spies to the French coast - a highly dangerous occupation - but he added to the adventure of his life by carrying other doubtful cargo in the shape of casks of rum and brandy on his return to the shores of England.
In the picturesque old town of Folkestone may still be seen the steep, narrow ways by which the smugglers bore the contral and liquor to the quaint little taverns after nightfall. Captain Wiseman was a brave figure in those days, in his wide blue coat and his cocked hat, and invariably carrying a telescope under his arm. In after days on the Hawkesbury he still clung to the telescope, using it to spy out the approach of travellers for whom he would hasten to prepare a welcome.
But in 1806 he was chased and caught by revenue officers off the Isle of Wight, and when they boarded his sloop they found not only contraband spirits and cigars, but certain passengers who turned out to be French spies making their way to England.
For this business Solomon Wiseman was convicted and condemned to death, but in consideration of his services to the country in connection with the secret intelligence department the sentence was commuted to that of transportation. His treatment by the authorities was lenient. He arrived in Sydney in August, 1806, with his wife and two little sons, and was almost immediately given conditional liberty and a grant of 200 acres on the banks of the Hawkesbury River. He obtained from the Government the contract for feeding the large chain gangs employed on making the road from Sydney to Maitland, and was given surveillance of these gangs as superintendent. His net income amounted to 4,000 Pounds a year, which was equal to five times that amount at the present day.
As became the peculiar combination of names he possessed he was gifted with great natural shrewdness, and this was manifest in nothing more striking than in the splendid site he chose for his home. With the cliffs towering behind it, and a green flat formed by the bed of the river in front, it looks across the silver stream of the Hawkesbury to the high wooded hills on the other side. There is no prettier spot on this delightful river. High up on the mountain side overlooking Wiseman's estate is a recess under a jutting rock known as Court House Cave. Here justice was dispensed by the first magistrate for the district, Mr. David Dunlop. On the other side of the river was Judgement Rock, where refractory convicts in Wiseman's service were summarily executed by being hanged through a circular hole in the rock. On either side of the river were stockades where Wiseman's gang were quartered under the guard of red-coated soldiers. And here among all this natural beauty the lash fell often on bleeding backs.
Wiseman's first wife, Jane, died in 1821 when only 45, and he then married a widow Mrs. Sophia Warner. Seventeen years later Wiseman himself died at the age of 61, but even then the romance surrounding him did not end. His remains, in a leaden coffin, were laid besides those of his first wife in a vault at the foot of the garden, but later were removed to the church of St. Mary Magdalene, built by his convicts. A story gained currency that a part of his great wealth had been placed in his coffin, that he lay there decked with rich jewels, his cold fingers covered with rings, and bags of gold about his body. When his grand-nephew visited Wiseman's Ferry 35 years ago, he found that ghouls had broken into the church vault and cut open the coffin. The skull of the "Governor" was rolling about the churchyard for any foot to trample. Whether the robbers got the rich booty they were after is not known. The remains with those of his wife and niece, were reinterred in the new cemetery with great ceremony.
But although nearly 90 years have elapsed since "Governor" Wiseman, his wives, and the men and women convicts who waited on his pleasure breathed and moved in the old rooms, the hopes and fears, the tragedies, of their lives still wrap the place about. The rustle of a silk dress is said to be distinctly audible on certain nights, as if the woman whom it once adorned were passing hastily through the upper rooms, running, in fact. She comes from the balcony with a little gasping cry.
Once, it is asserted, a shadowy female form was seen to rise from the location of the old vault in the garden after midnight, and move across the flat and into the old house. It was supposed to be the spirit of Wiseman's first wife, and various theories are current as to why she should haunt her old home. Perhaps she wished to draw attention to a treasure she left behind, for some years ago a box of sovereigns was found under the floor of what had been Mrs. Wiseman's bedroom.
There are other unauthenticated stories of tragedies in those long-ago days. The isolation of men and women in this valley by the river, the desperate character of many of them, the autocratic rule and rough-justice all lend themselves to the fashioning of legends of passion and crime. But all these are vague.
One traveller, humping his bluey, camped in the old house many years ago when it was deserted, and he often told his children, now living in Sydney, the weird experiences he had during that memorable night. He said he was awakened shortly after midnight by the most unearthly noises. There were the muffled screams of a woman, followed by the slamming of a door. As he sat up, startled, he distinctly heard footsteps echoing through the empty house, and it seemed as if something passed him in the darkness. He was not a superstitious man, and he decided that his rest had been disturbed by the cries of night birds and the sigh of the wind off the river.
But as he lay uneasily trying to sleep, a more nerve-shaking sound fell on his ears. It was the clank of metal, and a heavy, slow step that crossed the yard and entered the house, the step of a man wearing leg-irons. The traveller tried no more efforts of sleep. He hurriedly shifted his quarters without waiting for further developments.
Thirty years ago a big drover put up at the hotel. He went to sleep in the small room which forms part of what was in Wiseman's day the great reception room on the first floor. But when morning came he had disappeared. Afterwards he told how, on waking from a heavy sleep, he felt that someone was near him. There was a slight rattle, and in the patch of moonlight that came through the window he saw a pale lady cross the next room, the door of which was open. He promptly leapt out of bed and, jumping over the balcony, slid down the post to the ground, and fled.
The narrow, dark stairway which winds to the left room from the hall is admirably suited to legends of tragedy and mystery. It is up these stairs that the ghostly convict is supposed to drag his feet with horrible clanks of legirons, and a small room at the top of them is associated with his appearances.
It was the custom in Wiseman's day to grant a ticket-of-leave to a seven years convict after the expiration of four years if his conduct had been good. One story has it that a young man of this class had served four years with Wiseman, and was eager to get his permit to go to Sydney for a mother or sweetheart, who had followed him out to the colony. But Wiseman, after some hot words, refused to report him for good conduct, and he was put on the hardest roadwork, chained during the day to the gang. Goaded to desperation by one of his overseers, who put him to work on a great ant-bed, the boy, with two companions, attempted to escape by swimming the Hawkesbury. But hampered by his legirons he was drowned. His mates were captured, and one of them, who was deeply attached to the youth,, split open the skull of the overseer with a pick. For this he was made to walk the plank into eternity at Judgement Rock.
Legend has it that the spirit of the young convict comes periodically to the house, and clanks up the stairs, always to beg over again from the "Governor" the ticket of leave denied him a century ago.
Mr. and Mrs. J. R. Hennessy, who now conduct the hotel, say they have never seen nor heard any of the ghosts, but it is on record that a party of motorists who stayed at the hotel, recently worked their nerves up so much by recounting the ghost stories that they decided to spend the night in the parlor instead of venturing to their rooms.
The old house has other memories too. It was once visited by notorious bushrangers, who, however, did not hold it up, but boldly attended the picnic races on the flat. Governor Darling was the guest of Wiseman at the old home, and others Solomon entertained were Archbishop Polding, and Judge Therry. The latter gives Wiseman a pat on the back. "After his arrival in the Colony," he says, "Wiseman's conduct was industrious, and his character for probity irreproachable."
Anthony Trollope, the famous English novelist, stayed at the place in later years, and told the proprietress, Mrs. Black, who died only two years ago, that it was the most beautiful spot that he had ever seen.
In 1867 Mrs. Black witnessed the great floods in the Hawkesbury, and other cries than those of the ghosts reached the ears of the inmates of the house, piteous cries from the poor wretches swept down by the raging torrent clinging to haystacks and the wreckage of houses.
In the grounds many legirons buried with the convicts have been dug up. When one of the old walls was pulled down clay pipes, perfectly preserved, were found embedded in the masonry.
(Windsor and Richmond Gazette - 26th December, 1924)
The preceding article makes reference to Judge Therry as having been a guest of Solomon Wiseman. Judge Therry, in his book Reminiscences of New South Wales was largely responsible for perpetuating the myth that Wiseman had been convicted of smuggling spirits and cigars and that this was the reason for his transportation. Rev. T. Atkins, in The Wanderings of the Clerical Ulysses, relates a similar story.
Solomon Wiseman was, in fact, convicted on 30th October, 1805, at the Old Bailey for feloniously stealing 704 pounds weight of Brazil wood, of the value of 24 Pounds, from a lighter in the Thames. His death sentence was commuted to transportation for life, and he arrived in New South Wales on the Alexander in August, 1806. He was accompanied by his wife Jane and two sons.
He received his ticket-of-leave in June, 1810, and an absolute pardon in February, 1812. In 1813 he received a wine and spirit licence in Bligh Street, Sydney, selling this to Samuel Terry in 1817. In the same year he was granted 100 acres near Wilberforce.
Wiseman had acquired the Hawkesbury Packet in 1811, and soon afterwards the Hope. The Hope was dismasted in Bass Strait in 1812 and eventually wrecked and two of the crew killed by aboriginals in 1817 at Port Stephens. Two months later the Hawkesbury Packet was also wrecked.
Wiseman received a grant of 200 acres on the Hawkesbury near Benjamin Singleton's property. By 1828 he had increased his holdings to 1100 acres. It seems probable that he settled on his farm about 1819 or 1820. In 1826, Wiseman wrote to the Governor stating that he had erected a house on the new road from Castle Hill to the Hunter and seeking a licence. The following year he established his ferry. A licence was granted for a period of seven years with the condition that horses and property belonging to the Government be allowed free passage.
His wife Jane died on 20th July, 1821, leaving him four sons and two daughters. He married a widow, Mrs. Sophia Warner on 1st November, 1826.
Having spent the rest of his life at the Ferry, Wiseman died on 29th October, 1838. He was buried with his first wife in a vault on his property, reinterred in August, 1843, in the churchyard of St. Mary Magdalene, which was then under construction. After vandalism to the church and damage resulting from the flood of 1870, the coffins again relocated to the cemetery at Wiseman's Ferry on 13th May, 1886.
Reference : J.R.A.H.S.-vol 17 -p350 - James Jervis -Solomon Wiseman and his Ferry)
The first section, from Castle Hill to Wisemans Ferry, was commenced in 1826 and completed in two years. The section north of Wisemans Ferry was surveyed by Heneage Finch and contained a series of sharp s-bends. Dissastisfied with this, Governor Darling in 1829, ordered Surveyor-General Mitchell to find a better route. This new ascent to the summit of Devine's Hill was completed within six months.
It is most unlikely that convicts were hanged at Judgement Rock (or Hangman's Rock) as local magistrates did not have the power to sentence convicts to be executed. Such cases would have needed to be sentenced by a judge.
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