Grosvenor Street Sydney
It would require a man of strong imagination today to stand in Grosvenor street, look across George
street towards Pitt street, and imagine, first, a fine, large house, and behind it, stretching to Pitt street, and
embracing an area of ground one and half acres in extent, a magnificent 'garden of flowers and fruit trees—a garden
that had cost £300 to create. Yet that is the sight that would have met the eye of a man standing there in the year
1800. The "fine brick mansion," as it was referred to and the garden were owned by Lieutenant Kent, but in the year
named they were purchased by Governor King for the sum of £1539/17/3, and converted into an orphanage. The house
continued as an orphan school until about 1828, when the land was sold for £5200, after Queen's place (now Dailey
street) had been driven through it.
SYDNEY, FROM ST. PHILLIP'S CHURCH IN 1813.
The street in the foreground is Grosvenor street. At right angles to it
runs George street. The building on the left with flat roof is the house of James Underwood. To the
right of that, in Grosvenor street, the verandahed building is the main guard house. On the opposite
side of the street are the house and garden of the Lieutenant-Governor. The white building in the
centre with five windows in the top row is the Orphan School. The street to the right of Grosvenor
street, leading up the opposite hill, is Bridge street. The land in that street enclosed by a white
fence (seen over the top of the Lieutenant-Governor's house) is the Lumber Yard. The large building on
the left of Bridge street is Simeon Lord's house, and beyond it at the top of Bridge street is
Down this latter street is a quaint nest of cottages-12 on an area 91 by 78feet—known as Queen's court, in one
of which Henry Parkes lived for a time. Now let us look at the other side of the street, retracing our steps to
On the southern corner of this street lived an innkeeper, Samuel Thornton, who had a son, George. The Hon. (as
he afterwards became) George Thornton used to relate how he had a hand in the birth of the "Sydney Morning Herald."
It appears that on the night of April 18, 1831, when the first number of the "Sydney Herald" was printed, the
proprietors sent over to Mr. Thornton's for some candles, and young George went over and held the candles while the
formes were made up.
Almost half the area between Essex street, from which it started, and Grosvenor street was a grant to W. C.
Wentworth. This grant had a frontage of 200 feet to George street, and when the land was sold in June, 1830, it
realised an average of £35 per foot "the highest price that has yet been obtained for any description of building
ground in this colony," as the "Sydney Gazette" informs us.
A little past the Wentworth grant was at one time the office of the "Sydney Morning Herald," and in 1828
adjoining that site stood for some time a half-finished building which the speculator had intended to be Sydney's
great theatre; but promise fell short of achievement. Next this was the office of the "Sydney Gazette," where that
paper gave up the ghost a ghost that would be in a wonderful and fearful company of departed Australian newspaper
spectres when it crossed the inky Styx.
On the north corner of George and Grosvenor streets stood, at least as early as 1813, the the main guardhouse.
We are apt to forget that up to the 1820's Sydney was more or less an armed camp, the foe being represented by
gangs of convicts, which were to be overawed by exhibitions of armed strength. To this end we had guardhouses and
sentinels in various parts of the city. This guardhouse remained until one Easter Sunday, when a very heavy fall of
rain washed the main part of the building into George street.
GEORGE STREET, LOOKING NORTH PROM GROSVENOR STREET, IN DECEMBER,
On the left is the main guard-house. The white
wall further down the street is the front wall of the gaol on the corner of Essex street. The buildings
on the right stand on the giant of James Underwood, and were known as "Underwood's
On the corner stood for a number of years the Berlin Wool shop of John Hordern, son of the original Anthony and
father of Hordern Bros., of Pitt street. In the days when our grandmothers wove wonderful wool ornaments the art of
which lay in perfect matching and blending of shades, Mr. Hordern's shop was the mecca of the fair sex.
I have related one incident which startled Sydney, and the spot we have now arrived at—the intersection of
Grosvenor street with George street—brings to remembrance another incident in a still earlier Sydney that was the
sensation of the hour. The year was 1801 ; and if readers will go a little way up the Grosvenor street hill with me
we shall turn round and view the scene as it appeared in that year of grace. Behind us the walls of St. Phillip's
Church are rising; close by, on the left, is the house of the Provost-Marshal (the sheriff of the day) ; next that,
and extending in a diagonal line to George street, are two large storehouses; on the right hand side is the garden,
and on the George street frontage, the house of the Lieutenant-Governor. A little to the left of the house is a
sentry box containing the Lieutenant-Governor's own particular sentry. On the other side of George street rises the
Orphan School. The storm waters rushing down the hill have worn a channel, and to the left of the orphan school is
a bridge over the
channel. Through the diagonal course of the storehouses the area before us is much larger than it was when the
picture was drawn. This open space is the parade ground, and hither every morning came the regiment on parade.
Now to our story. The ship "Earl Cornwallis" anchored in Port Jackson on June 12, 1801. On board was Lieutenant
Marshall. On the way out Lieutenant Crawford was drowned, and Marshall appropriated some of his effects, including
a gun. This coming to the ears of the officers of the N.S.W. corps, through their commanding officer (Captain
Macarthur), it was reported to the Governor. Marshall thereupon received a reprimand. A few days later he met
Macarthur on the parade-ground, and during an altercation called that gentleman a liar. Macarthur called upon his
friend Captain Abbott, and despatched him to Marshall with a challenge to a duel. The captain found his man at
Isaac Nichol's house and delivered the challenge. The only second Marshall could find was Mr. Jeffries, supercargo
of the "Earl Cornwallis," and Abbott refused to meet him on the grounds that in a duel seconds must be of
The duel never eventuated, but the incident slid not end here. The next day, July 23, Adjutant Minchin, standing
on the roadway opposite the Orphan School, saw Marshall pass by with a huge blugdeon in his hand, the size of
which, and Marshall's appearance, induced Minchin to watch him. Marshall, when he came opposite Bridge street,
looked down that street, and when he saw Captain Abbott with a friend coming up the hill, advanced to meet that
officer. When he came opposite to them he stopped and attempted to enter into a conversation with Abbott. The
latter refused to have anything to say to the lieutenant, whereupon Marshall called him a damned scoundrel, and
struck him a violent blow with the bludgeon--such a blow that, Abbott maintained, if it had struck his head, where
it was intended, would have killed him.
The unfortunate captain retreated, and Marshall followed with his stick uplifted; but the captain called to the
sentry at the Lieutenant-Governor's house for assistance, and he interposed and prevented any further assault. With
the threat that he would serve Captain Macarthur in the same way, Lieutenant Marshall stalked away in the direction
of Hunter street. Captain Abbott was unarmed at the time of the assault. He was, moreover, a small man, and the
club was of such a size that he could scarcely lift it from the ground. Marshall, not satisfied with one victim, or
probably with his appetite for revenge whetted, sought out what he intended to be the second victim. But he was to
meet a man of different calibre from Abbott; a man who was game to the last ounce, and our truculent lieutenant met
An hour or two later Macarthur, in company with Adjutant Minchin, came out of the Lieutenant-Governor's house
and walked along George street towards the Cove (i.e., across the foot of Grosvenor street). They turned, however,
and walked back in the opposite direction. As they did so, Lieutenant Marshall came down the Grosvenor street hill,
passed the church steeple, the Provost-Marshal's house, crossed the bridge, and appeared to be making for the Cove;
but when he espied Macarthur, Marshall turned round and walked towards him. He was carrying his club, which he held
carelessly in his hand until he arrived opposite the verandah of the Lieutenant-Governor's house, when he threw it
over his left shoulder, and advanced on Macarthur with the evident intention of treating that gentleman to a taste
of it. It was not a small unarmed Abbott facing him this time, however, but an extremely capable gentleman with a
sword in his hand and every intention of using it.
"If you offer to strike me as you have Captain Abbott I will run you through the body," said Macarthur.
Marshall was only three or four paces distant, and the sight of the sword and the determined eyes behind it
knocked all the truculence out of him. He dropped the bludgeon from his shoulder and said: "You will not run me
through now, will you?"
Macarthur did not use his sword, but called the sentry to take charge of the lieutenant; and, escorted by a file of
men, he was taken to the guardhouse.
Marshall was subsequently brought to trial before a court-martial, and I would that I had space to quote
Macarthur's adiress before that body. A sentence must suffice as a flavour. "It is true," he said, "I was armed
with a sword to oppose him (a weapon as appropriate to me, as an officer, as a bludgeon was to him as a ruffian),
but what could a sword have prevailed in my defence if this monstrous mass of matter, this second Goliath, had been
animated with one spark of spirit, with one atom of courage?" "Monstrous mass of matter" is distinctly good.
Dr. Johnson, with the memory of countless nights spent at the Mitre and the Crown and Anchor, once remarked that
"a tavern chair was the throne of human felicity." If we had possessed a Johnson in Sydney in the 'twenties there
would have been many references in his indispensable Boswell to the Sydney Hotel, the site of which is the southern
corner of George and Grosvenor streets. Great steel latticing is pushing its way to the skies at this moment on the
spot as the framing for the new offices of the Union Steamship Company. The site, however, has round it far more
interesting associations than that of a well-known tavern. In fact, to begin at the beginning of its history, we
must go back to the First Fleet and 1788. With Governor Phillip there came, as Lieutenant-Governor, Major Ross, and
that gentleman selected this spot as the site of his house. If one could push on one side the buildings in front of
it one could see what excellent taste the major displayed.At our feet would be the waters of the Cove, and from
these we could lift our eyes to behold the glorious length of the Harbour to the Heads. The building was started in
April, 1788, and Collins, in referring to it, says: "One face of which was to be in the principal street of the
intended town." This entry is interesting, for it marks for us where Phillip's noble street of 200 feet width was
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