Arcane, Impenetrabili, Profunde,Son Le Vie Di Chi Die L'Esser Al Niente.
When our southern sky is overloaded with huge, thick, dark masses, and claps of thunder warn us of the pending storm, then a gale of wind is roaring in space, doing battle with the bush, cowing down man and beast, sweeping away all manner of rottenness. This fury spares not, and desolation is the threat of the thunder.
A kind Providence must be blessed even in the whirlwind. Big, big drops of rain fight their way through the gale; soon the drops muster in legions, and the stronger the storm, the stronger those legions. At last they conquer; then it pours down—that is, the flood is made up of legions of torrents.
Is the end of the world now at hand? Look at the victorious rainbow! it reminds man of the covenant of our God with Noah, not far from this southern land. The sun restores confidence that all is right again as before, and nature, refreshed and bolder, returns again to her work.
Hence, the storm is life.
Not so is the case with fire. Devouring everything, devouring itself, fire seems to leave off its frenzy, only to devour the sooner any mortal thing that comes in the way to retard destruction. A few embers, then a handful of ashes, are the sole evidence of what was once kingly or beggarly.
Fire may destroy, consume, devour, but has no power to reduce to 'nothing.'
Hence the calamity of fire is death.
The handful of ashes lie lifeless until a storm forces them into the living order of nature, which, when refreshed, has the power to ingraft those ashes to, and make them prosper with, the grain of mustard seed.
Hence death is life.
Such is the order of Providence. Now, good reader, watch the handful of ashes of what was once Bentley's Eureka Hotel.
Pecunia Omnia Vincit.
In the dead of the night after the burning of the Eureka Hotel, three men had been taken into custody, charged with riot, and subsequently committed to take their trial in Melbourne.
I think the diggers at this time seriously contemplated to burn down the Camp, and thus get rid in a blaze of all their grievances.
A committee for the defence of these men, met at the Star Hotel, and sent round to all the tents on Ballaarat for subscriptions. I contributed my mite, and then learned that VERN, KENNEDY, and HUMFFRAY were the triumvirate of said committee.
The following placard was posted throughout the goldfields:-
for the discovery, apprehension and conviction of the murderer of James Scobie, found dead near the late Eureka Hotel, etc., etc.
At one and at the same time, also, the following placards were posted at each prominent gum-tree on the goldfield:-
increased by Government to
for the apprehension and conviction of the robbers of the Bank of Victoria.
A desperate deed was committed in broad mid-day; Monday, October 16th, in the Ballaarat township.
Four men in the garb of diggers, wearing sou'-wester hats, and having crepe over their faces, entered the Bank of Victoria, and succeeded in carrying off property in notes and gold, to the amount of about 15,000 pounds.
Who would have told me then, that soon I should be messmate to those unknown audacious robbers, in the same gaol!!
Let's go to the public meeting in the next chapter.
Una Scintilla, Sparasi La Bomba,Spalanca A Multitudini La Tomba.
The following story was going the rounds of the Eureka. There was a licence-hunt; the servant of the Rev. P. Smyth, the priest of the Catholic church, Bakery-hill, went to a neighbouring tent to visit a sick man. While inside, a trooper comes galloping up at the tent-door, and shouts out, "Come out here, you d——d wretches! there's a good many like you on the diggings." The man came outside, and was asked if "he's got a licence?" The servant, who is a native of Armenia, answers, in imperfect English, that he is a servant to the priest. The trooper says, "Damn you and the priest," and forthwith dismounts for the purpose of dragging Johannes M'Gregorius, the servant, along with him. The servant remonstrates by saying he is a disabled man, unable to walk over the diggings. This infuriates the trooper, he strikes and knocks down the poor disabled foreigner, drags him about, tears his shirt—in short, inflicting such injuries on the poor fellow, that all the diggers present cried out "shame! shame!"
Commissioner Johnson rides up, and says to the crowd about him, that he should not be interrupted in the execution of his 'dooty.' The priest hears of his servant's predicament, comes to the spot, hands a five-pound note to Johnson as bail for his servant's appearance the next day at the police-office.
The following morning, Johannes M`Gregorius is charged with being on the gold-fields without a licence. The poor foreigner tries to make a defence, but was fined five pounds. Commissioner Johnson now comes in and says, M`Gregorius is not charged with being without a licence, but with assaulting the trooper Lord—ridiculous! This alters the case. The trooper is called, and says the old story about the execution of 'dooty,' that is, licence-hunting.
A respectable witness takes his oath that he saw the trooper strike the foreigner with his clenched fist, and knock him down.
The end of the story is in the Ballaarat tune, then in vogue: "Fined 5 pounds; take him away."
Public MeetingHeld at the Catholic Chapel, Bakery-hill, Wednesday, October 25th.
After a good deal of pretty intelligible talk about the 'helpless Armenian,' the trooper Lord, and our respected priest; Thomas Kennedy, pouncing on the thing of the day proposed:—
"That it is the opinion of this meeting that the conduct of Mr. Commissioner Johnson towards the Rev. Mr. Smyth has been calculated to awaken the highest feeling of indignation on the part of his devoted flock: and to call upon the government to institute an inquiry into his (gold-lace) character, and to desire to have him at once removed from Ballaarat."
Carried unanimously.
The priest was requested to address the meeting.
Father Patricius Smyth, a native of Mayo, looks some thirty-five years old, and belongs to the unadulterated Irish caste—half-curled hair, not abundant, anxious semicircular forehead, keen and fiery eyes, altogether a lively interesting head. He is a Latin and Celtic scholar; and that excuses him for his moderate proficiency in modern languages. He was educated at Maynooth, the eye-sore of Sabbatarians, and therefore believes it incontestable that the authority conferred on him by the Bishop must needs be derived from God; because the Bishop had been consecrated by the Pope, who—inasmuch as a second branch of the Prince of the Apostles never was heard of at the time of St. Augustin—is the successor of St. Peter, the corner stone on which OUR LORD did build the Christian church, and our Lord's warrant is written in St. John, chapter xiv, 24: 'Sermo quem auditis non est meus, sed ejus qui misit me, nempe Patris.' And so Father Smyth feels himself entitled to adopt what was said of the Divine Master, 'Docebat enim eos ut habens auctoritatem, non autem ut scribae.' St. Matthew, chap. vii, 29. Hence his preaching, though not remarkable for much eloquence, does not lull to sleep. There is no cant, and strange as it may appear, there is little argument in his short-framed sentences, because they are the decided opinion of his mind and the warm expression of his heart, anxious for the salvation of his flock, as he believes he will be called to account if any be lost. He, out of civility, may not object to hear what Paley or Butler has to say, but he scorns any conversation with Voltaire, and would see the fellow burnt, as in the times of old. His character was never impeached, because his conduct is an example to all of the strength of his faith. Either at the altar or at the table he forgets not that he belongs to the priesthood of Ireland, the 'proved gold' of the Catholic church. His song is, 'Erin, my country,' and 'I love thy green bowers,' is the end of his story, which is a hint to me that this is not the place to say more for the peace of John Bull. Hence Ireland produced a Daniel O'Connell, but has not yet got the repeal.
Father Smyth, in addressing the meeting, spoke with coolness and forbearance, yet commendatory of the constitutional manner in which his congregation sought redress from the government, for the insult offered them, through his person, in the abuse of his servant by the trooper Lord. On concluding his address, he was warmly cheered, when the reverend gentleman and his friends adjourned to the parsonage, to partake of some refreshments.
Public MeetingHeld on Bakery-hill, November llth.
Political changes contemplated by THE REFORM LEAGUE.
1. A full and fair representation.—Don't you wish you may get it?
2. Manhood suffrage.—Thanks to the Eureka-boys, it costs now one pound. Cheap!
3. No property qualification of members for the Legislative Council.—The identical thing for 'starring' on stumps to a fellow's heart's content.
4. Payment of members.—That's the accommodation!
5. Short duration of Parliament.—Increase the chances of accommodation, that's it.
What was the freight per ton, of this sort of worn out twaddle imported from old England?
How much does this new chum's bosh fetch in the southern markets, and in the Victorian market particularly?
For my part I decline to answer, because I want to attend at the meeting. J. B. Humffray, is the Secretary of the League; his name is going now the round of the diggings; I wish to see the man in person; is he a great, grand, or big man? that's the question.
When you seen JOHN BASSON HUMFFRAY, you have at once before you a gentleman, born of a good old family; his manners confirm it, and his words indicate an honest benevolent heart, directed by a liberal mind, entangled perhaps by too much reading of all sorts, perplexed at the prosperity of the vicious, and the disappointment of the virtuous in this mysterious world of ours, but could never turn wicked, because he believes in the resurrection of life. He is looking some thirty five years old, his person is well proportioned, but inclining to John Bull's. His prepossessing countenance is made up of a fine forehead, denoting astuteness, not so much as shrewdness, how, when and whither to shift his pegs in the battle of life; of a pair of eyes which work the spell; of a Grecian nose; of a mouth remarkable for the elasticity of the lips, that make him a model in the pronunciation of the English language. His voice, that of a tenor, undulating and clear, never obstreperous, enables his tongue to work the intended charm, when his head puts that member into motion; but the semi-earnestness of his address, his cool sort of John Bull smile, betray that his heart does not go always with his head. Hence he has many enemies, and yet not one ever dared to substantiate a charge against his character; he has as many friends, but not one friend, because it is his policy ever to keep friendly, with redcoats and gold-lace, at one and the same time as with blueshirts and sou'-westers.
As I cannot possibly mean any thing dishonourable to our old mate,John Basson Humffray, I may here relate what his foes do say of him.
Suppose any given square and the four pegs to be:
C———-D | | | W | | | B———-E
C., that is, the Camp; E., that is, the Eureka; D., that is, the doodledom of red-tape., and B., that is, blue-shirts.
Let W., that is work, be the central point at C, E, and D, B. Now: John is sinking at Eureka with the red cap; and Basson cracks some yabber-yabber at D, that is, getting a sip of Toorak small-beer, as aforesaid. Again: when Basson puts on a sou'-wester to go through the main-drift with blue-shirts, then John feels entitled to tramp up to Camp, and there, somewhere not far off, toast on the fourth of July a Doctor Kenworthy; soon after, however, said Johnny bends his way to shake hands with Signor Raffaello, at the old peg Eureka, and helps him to rock the cradle. Further, to give evidence of his consistency, Humffray himself will express his sorrow to Peter Lalor for his loss of the left arm at the same peg Eureka; and, to atone for past transgressions, he will soon after call in both the prodigal John and yabbering Basson, and with his whole heart and voice, strike up, 'God Save the Queen,' at peg Camp. As for bottoming his shaft at the central point Work, that's a different thing altogether; and yet it must be admitted that he is 'all there' in his claim, when the hole is bottomed, especially if a drive is to be put in with his quill. Sum total:—He was, is, and ever will be, John Basson Humffray, Esquire, of Ballaarat; 'Honi soi qui mal y pense', because his friends want him in St. Patrick's Hall.
Strike Off A Medal In Commemoration.
We are on Bakery-hill, though, attention. Immediate objects of the Reform League.
I. An immediate change in the management of the goldfields, by disbanding the Commissioners (undoubtedly the unanimous demand, or 'desire'—if the word suit better the well-affected—of all blue-shirts). Three cheers for Vern! Go it hearty! Fine fellow! Legs rather too long! Never mind.
II. The total abolition of the diggers' and storekeeper's licence tax. (Ah! ah! prick John Bull at his pounds, shillings and pence, that's the dodge to make him stir.)
Three cheers for Humffray! Hurrah!
The whole of the grand talk of these Bakery reformers leagued together on its hill, can properly be framed in, on a 'copper;' thus doing justice to all.
Image. LET a course of action be decided on and carried out unswervingly until the heel of our oppressors be removed from our necks. DON'T LET THE THING DROP THROUGH, for want of co-operation and support NOTA BENE. 2s. 6d. gentleman's ticket. No admission for ladies at present. 'Durum sed levius fit Patientia.' REMEMBER! GOD HELPS HIM WHO HELPS HIMSELF (to the 2s. 6d.) DO NOT LET the word 'British' become a bye-word. AND ABOVE ALL LEAVE OFF SINGING 'Britons never, never shall be slaves,' until you leave fondling the chains which prove the song a lie, a mockery, a delusion, a snare. —— Great works!
Ortica ensis: Prima.
Here is a plant of Cayenne pepper, growing in those days on Ballaarat: it withered some three months in limbo, but…oh yes, butt at it again.
'Ballaarat Times', November 18, 1854.
"There is something strange, and to the government of this country, something not quite comprehensible, in this League. For the first time in the southern hemisphere, a Reform League is to be inaugurated. There is something ominous in this; the word 'League,' in a time of such feverish excitement as the present, is big with immense purport (indeed!) Indeed, it would ill become 'The Times' to mince in matter of such weighty importance. This League is not more or less that the germ of Australian independence (sic). The die is cast, and fate has stamped upon the movement its indelible signature. No power on earth can restrain the united might and headlong strides for freedom of the people of this country, and we are lost in amazement while contemplating the dazzling panorama of the Australian future (Great works). We salute the League [but not the trio, Vern, Kennedy, Humffray], and tender our hopes and prayers for its prosperity [in the shape of a goodly pile of half-crowns]. The League has undertaken a mighty task [the trio'll shirk it though], fit only for a great people—that of changing the dynasty of the country (Great works). The League does not exactly propose, nor adopt such a scheme, but we know what it means, the principles it would inculcate, and that eventually it will resolve itself into an Australian Congress." (Great Works!!)
Vote forHUMFFRAY to be Auctioneer,KENNEDY to be Bellman,VERN to be Runner,of the 'Starring league.'
Ortica ensis: Secunda.
Out came the 'Ballaarat Times', Saturday, November 25, 1854. Work was stopped at every hole: the miners left the deep and mobbed together round any reader of the full report of the—
Trial ofMR. AND MRS. BENTLEY,Hanse, and Farrel,FOR THE MURDER OFJAMES SCOBIE.——Supreme Court, Melbourne.——GUILTY! of Manslaughter.Mrs. Bentley scot-free.
His Honour considered their conduct was wanton and reckless. He should mark his sense of the outrage of which they have been found guilty, by passing on each of them a sentence of THREE (!) YEARS' IMPRISONMENT WITH HARD LABOUR ON THE ROADS.
Great Works!
Trial ofFletcher, M`Intyre and Westerby,for BURNING THE EUREKA HOTEL.——Supreme Court, Melbourne.Criminal Sittings.——GUILTY, with a recommendationto mercy!!
The Foreman of the Jury appended the following rider to the verdict:—
"The jury feel, in giving their verdict against the prisoners at the bar, that in all probability, they (the jury) should never have had that painful duty to Perform, if those entrusted with the government offices at Ballaarat had done theirs properly."
His Honour said: THE SENTENCE of the Court is, that you, M`Intyre be confined in H.M. gaol, at Melbourne, for THREE MONTHS, but I shall not subject you to labour. (Great works!) You, Fletcher, to four months; and you, Westerby, to six months confinement… …The Executive was sufficiently strong to punish those who outrage the law! (Great works at Toorak!)
——————-
La vita in grammatica,Facil declinazione;La vita poi in pratica,Storta congiugazione:Della vita lo spello dal mondo sciolto,Al mondo vivi, poiche non sei sepolto.
Epistolam Hanc Misi, Tunc Bene, Nunc Valde Ad Opus.
Prepaid.To W. H. ARCHER, Esq.Acting Registrar General,Melbourne.Ballaarat Gold-fields,Eureka, November 30, 1854.
My dear Mr. Archer,
I was in some anxiety about you; not receiving any answer to my letter of the 17th October, and especially to that of the 22nd ditto. I was at Creswick's Creek, when I was informed that Father Smyth had a letter for me, and last Monday I returned to Ballaarat, where I received, through Messrs. Muir Brothers, your letter of the 20th October. I am heartily glad to learn that you are well, and now I suppose a few lines from me are as welcome to you as ever.
Somehow or other, verging towards the fortieth year of my age, having witnessed strange scenes in this strange world, very, very different from my dream of youth, I feel now more disposed to the sober reality of the things of this life.
However desponding and humiliating may be, as it really is, the sad reflection, that at the enormous distance of sixteen thousand miles from dear homes and dearer friends, people should be called upon to assemble, NOT to thank God Almighty for any special mercy, or rejoice over the first good harvest or vintage on this golden land; but melancholy is it to say, for the old purpose, as in olden times in the old country, 'FOR THE REDRESS OF GRIEVANCES;' and so yesterday we had a monster meeting on Bakery-hill, and I was the delegate of upwards of one thousand foreigners, or 'aliens,' according to the superlative wisdom of your Legislative Council.
The Camp was prepared to stand for the Colonial Secretary Foster! Yes; you may judge of the conduct of some officers sent to protect the Camp by the following:—
On Tuesday Evening (November 28th), about eight o'clock, the Twelfth Regiment arrived from Melbourne. The expert cleverness of the officer in command, made the soldiers, riding in carts drawn by three horses each, cross the line exactly at the going-a-head end of the Eureka. An injudicious triumphant riding, that by God's mercy alone, was not turned into a vast funeral.
From my tent, I soon heard the distant cries of 'Joe!' increasing in vehemence at each second. The poor soldiers were pelted with mud, stones, old stumps, and broken bottles. The hubbub was going on pretty desperate westward of the Hill and WE had hard work to preserve the peace; but at the upper end of the Hill, the game was going on upon a far more desperate scale. It appears that a party of Gravel-pits men had been in the bush for the purpose. They stopped a cart, pulled the soldiers out, robbed them of their ammunition and bayonets; in short, it was a hell of a row. All of us camping on the Hill were talking about this cowardly attack, when a detachment of said soldiers came up again, and the officer, a regular incapable, that is, a bully, with drawn sword began to swear at us, and called all of us a pack of scoundrels. He was, however, soon put to rights, by the whole of us then present offering ourselves to look out for the missing soldiers; and eventually, one of them was discovered in a deserted tent, another was found in a hole lower down the Warrenheip Gully, and so on. This disgraceful occurrence, coupled with the firing of guns and pistols, kept up the whole of the night, did not give us cheering hopes for the next day.
The Monster Meeting.
Bakery-hill, Wednesday, November 29th.
(Letter continued.)
"All the diggings round about were deserted, and swelled the meeting, the greatest I ever witnessed in this Colony. At two o'clock there were about ten thousand men present! The Report of the Deputation appointed by the League to wait upon his Excellency, relative to the release of the three prisoners, M`Intyre, Fletcher, and Yorkie, was listened to with great anxiety."
George Black was the man of the day, and was received by the people with three hearty cheers.
From his outward appearance, one would take him for a parson, a Christian one, I mean; not a prebendary or a bishop. His English is elegant, and conscious of having received an education, and being born a gentleman, he never prostitutes his tongue to colonial phraseology. His reading must have been sober from his youth, for in conversation he indulges in neither cant nor romance; though, in addressing the people, he may use a touch of declamation stronger than argument. From the paleness of his cheeks, and the dryness of his lips, you might see that the spirit was indeed willing, though the flesh was weak. The clearness of his eyes, the sharpness of his nose, the liveliness of his forehead, lend to his countenance a decided expression of his belief in the resurrection of life. His principles are settled, not so much because that is required for the happiness of a good conscience, but because the old serpent has crammed the ways of man with so many deceits in this world of vanity and vexation of spirit, that a heart of the honesty of George Black, cannot possibly have any sympathy with the crooked ways of rogues and vagabonds; and so he is afflicted at their number and audacity, especially in this Colony. His disposition of mind makes him enthusiastic for the virtuous, his benevolent heart prevents him from proceeding to extremities with the vicious. Hence the Diggers' Advocate, of which he was the editor, though conducted with ability, failed, because he thought that gold-diggers interested themselves with true religion, as laid down in Saint James' Catholic Epistle; but he made a greater mistake in not taking into consideration that men, though digging for gold, do still pretend to some religious denomination or other. However, let him now address the Monster Meeting.
Divide Et Impera.
(Letter continued,)
"Mr. Black explained the results of his mission by stating, that the Deputation was received by the Governor with much courtesy and urbanity, and that personally his Excellency had no objection to grant the public prayer. He further stated, that so far as he had an opportunity of judging of the Governor's disposition, his Excellency was in favour of the people, but that he was so surrounded by injudicious advisers, as to leave him entirely impotent in state matters. The great objection his Excellency seemed to entertain against the Deputation's claim, was what is termed want of courtesy in wording—for it must be understood that the Committee sent, not to petition and pray, but demand the release of the state prisoners; and the word demand was said to operate more against the Deputation than the very object of their mission. Upon hearing all these reasons, it was proposed to adopt the form of a memorial, and petition the Governor; but this proposition was furiously scouted, on the ground that it did not comport with the dignity of the League, first to demand and afterwards to pray.
"Kennedy, along with the music of his rubbing the nails of the right hand against those of the left, blathered away in a masterly style for the benefit of the League.
"It was evident that there was a 'split' among the three Delegates; yet Mr. Humffray, who had been received by His Excellency, in an interview as a private digger, found favour among the assembly. J. B. Humffray plainly explained, and calmly made us understand, that Sir Charles was with us, and was determined to put an end to our grievances; and that he had appointed to this effect, a Commission of Inquiry, of popular men well known to us, and His Excellency had made up his mind to 'act accordingly.' The feverish excitement was subdued, and three hearty cheers were given for the New Chum Governor, amid the discharging of several guns and pistols."
I must here interrupt the meeting, drop the letter, and hereby assert:-
lst. Peter Lalor and myself, had never addressed any of the meetings, before this monster one.
2nd. Having made up my mind to return to Rome, the following Christmas, in accordance with my brother's desire; I had to attend to my work; hence, I had never taken any part in the agitation and to my knowledge, Peter Lalor neither.
3rd. I never was present at the Star Hotel and therefore, personally I know nothing of the boisterous Committee of the vaunting Reform League held there.
Corolarium.—I am not dead yet!
L'Union Fait La Force.
We had better proceed with the meeting first, and with the letter afterwards.
Peter Lalor proposed the following resolution:-
"That a meeting of the members of the Reform League be called at the Adelphi Theatre, on next Sunday, at 2 o'clock, to elect a Central Committee; and that each forty members have the power to elect one member for the Central Committee."
Being an old acquaintance of Peter, I supported the above resolution. He gave me his hand and pulled me up on the platform, from among the multitude. The whole of that Wednesday morning, my tent on the Eureka had been a regular Babel. Foreigners from all quarters of the globe and of the diggings, came to inquire from me what was the matter concerning so much excitement as then prevailed on Ballaarat. I translated for them the news from our 'Ballaarat Times', or from The 'Geelong Advertiser's' clever correspondent. Thus, and thus alone, I became honourably their delegate, and subsequently interpreter to Lalor, the Commander-in-Chief; and I hereby express the hope that in time, Peter Lalor, though mutilated, may find at Toorak, a little more credit for his testimony than did that infernal spy, Goodenough. Anyhow, for the present, 'Le Pere Duprat', a well-known old hand, and respected French miner on Ballaarat, who was with me within the Eureka Stockade, and whose proposed plan for the defence, I interpreted to Lalor, is a living witness to the above. We must, however, attend to our Monster Meeting.
Heu Mihi! Sermo Meus, Veritas.
My friends had requested me to come forward at the meeting, and here is my speech according to notes I had previously taken in my tent.
Gold-laced Webster, I challenge contradiction.
I came from old Europe, 16,000 miles across two oceans, and I thought it a respectable distance from the hated Austrian rule. Why, then, this monster meeting to-day, at the antipodes? We wrote petitions, signed memorials, made remonstrances by dozens; no go: we are compelled to demand, and must prepare for the consequences.
The old style: oppressors and oppressed. A sad reflection, very sad reflection, for any educated and honest man.
For what did we come into this colony? 'Chi sta bene non si move,' is an old Roman proverb. If then in old Europe, we had a bird in hand, what silly fools we were to venture across two oceans, and try to catch two jackasses in the bush of Australia!
I had a dream, a happy dream, I dreamed that we had met here together to render thanks unto our Father in heaven for a plentiful harvest, such that for the first time in this, our adopted land, we had our own food for the year; and so each of us holding in our hands a tumbler of Victorian wine, you called on me for a song. My harp was tuned and in good order: cheerfully struck up,
'Oh, let us be happy together.'
Not so, Britons, not so! We must meet as in old Europe—old style—improved by far in the south—for the redress of grievances inflicted on us, not by crowned heads, but blockheads, aristocratical incapables, who never did a day's work in their life. I hate the oppressor, let him wear a red, blue, white, or black coat.—And here certainly, I tackled in right earnest with our silver and gold lace on Ballaarat, and called on all my fellow-diggers, irrespective of nationality, religion, and colour, to salute the 'Southern Cross' as the refuge of all the oppressed from all countries on earth.—The applause was universal, and accordingly I received my full reward:
Prison and Chains! Old style.
The Reform League, Grappling With The Right 'Stars'.
Monster Meeting continued:—
Proposed and seconded by blather reformers; of course, Vern had his go:—
"That this meeting being convinced that the obnoxious licence-fee is an imposition and an unjustifiable tax on free labour, pledges itself to take immediate steps to abolish the same by at once burning all their licences; that in the event of any party being arrested for having no licence, that the united people will, under all circumstances, defend and protect them."
"That this meeting will not feel bound to protect any man after the 15th of December who shall not be a member of the Reform League by that day."
The Rev. Mr. Downing proposed as an amendment, that the licences should not be burned. Although the rev. gentleman was heard with patience and respect, a sullen excitement pervaded the whole assemblage while he spoke. Those even of his most devoted followers were of the opinion that his sentiments did not accord with the spirit of the times, and the result was that the rev. gentleman's amendment fell to the ground.
Here must not be forgotten a peculiar colonial habit. There was on the platform a sly-grog seller, who plied with the black-bottle all the folks there, and the day was very hot, the sun was almost burning.
Si Cessi Il Pianto, L'Ira Si Gusti.Lo Schiavo Che Vuol Finir Le Sue Pene,Vendetta Gridando Al Dio De Giusti,Deve Schiantar Le Proprie Catene.Cuore! Si Vada, Vedasi, Si Vinca. (bis.)
In Spite of all that, however, Timothy Hayes, the chairman—who by-the-bye, discharged the duties of the chair in that vast assemblage, with ability and tact, spoke like a man, as follows:—
"Gentlemen, many a time I have seen large public meetings pass resolutions with as much earnestness and unanimity as you show this day; and yet, when the time came to test the sincerity, and prove the determination necessary for carrying out those resolutions, it was found then that 'the spirit, indeed, is willing, but the flesh is weak.' Now, then, before I put this resolution from the chair, let me point out to you the responsibility it will lay upon you (hear, hear). And so I feel bound to ask you, gentlemen, to speak out your mind. Should any member of the League be dragged to the lock-up for not having the licence, will a thousand of you volunteer to liberate the man?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"Will two thousand of you come forward?"
"Yes! Yes! Yes!"
"Will four thousand of you volunteer to march up to the Camp, and open the lock-up to liberate the man?"
"Yes! yes!" (the clamour was really deafening.)
"Are you ready to die?" shouted out our worthy chairman, stretching forth his right hand, clenched all the while; "Are you ready to die?"
"Yes, Yes! Hurrah!"
This general decided clamour put out Tim in such good spirits, that, in spite of the heat of the sun and the excitement of the day, he launched in the realm of crowned poets, and bawled as loud as if he wanted the head-butler at Toorak to take him a quart-pot of smallbeer—
"On to the field, our doom is sealed,To conquer or be slaves;The sun shall see our country free.Or set upon our graves."
(Great works!)
No one who was not present at that monster meeting, or never saw any Chartist meeting in Copenhagen-fields, London, can possibly form an idea of the enthusiasm of the miners of Ballaarat on that 29th of November. A regular volley of revolvers and other pistols now took place, and a good blazing up of gold-licences. When the original resolutions had all been passed, Mr. Humffray moved a vote of thanks to Mr. Ireland, for his free advocacy of the state prisoners. The meeting then dissolved, many of them having previously burned their licences, and thus virtually pledging themselves to the resolution adopted, which might be said to have been the business of the day. Nothing could exceed the order and regularity with which the people, some fifteen thousand in number, retired.
Ecco Troncato Il Canto Per Ritornare Al Pianto.
My letter to Mr. Archer continued:-
Thanks be to God, the day passed 'unstained,' a glorious day for Victoria when the SOUTHERN CROSS was first unfolded on Ballaarat; gathering round itself all the oppressed of the world.
The whole purpose of the meeting was, that a Reform League be formed and fully organised to carry out the clearance of all our grievances, on the old style of the Corn Law League in Great Britain.
Next Sunday, we leaguers—( I took out a ticket of membership from Reynolds, one of the treasurers, and paid my 2s. 6d. on that very day, November 29th, precisely, on the platform of the meeting)—have a meeting at two o'clock at the Adelphi to organise the people and appoint a responsible executive committee. I am the old delegate to it, and therefore I shall be able to give you, Mr. Archer, a full answer to your letter of the 24th instant.
Mark this, good reader!
1. Meanwhile, privately, as an old Ballaarat hand, I beg respectfully to convey to you, to employ your influence and reach the ears of the Lieutenant Governor. The licence-fee, as a tax, is perhaps a cause of growling like any other tax in Great Britain or elsewhere in the world; but, on the gold-fields, has become an 'abomination.' The inconvenience in the Camp-insolence at our getting it, the annoyance and bore for showing it, when asked by some 'pup' of a trap whilst at our work; the imbecility and arrogance of so many commissioners and troopers uselessly employed for the purpose, etc., etc.; make the gold-licence an abomination to the honest digger. The Vandemonian, you know, never dreamt of taking out a licence, of course not.
Paramount is this grand consideration: John Bull, rather of a doggish nature, will growl to himself if left alone picking his bone: the passport system is a bone that he will not pick; no, no ways and under no shape whatever— I know it by experience.
2. A memorial to his Excellency for the release of the three prisoners under sentence for burning the Eureka Hotel, is, through Humffray, in course of signature. It is our earnest desire that his Excellency may show mercy; though it may appear, that he would do thus an act of justice to the diggers, considering how rightly they guessed the Bentley affair.
3. The whole pack, commissioners, troopers and traps on the Ballaarat Camp, with the exception of magistrate Hackett, are detested by the diggers: there will be eternal discontent as long as Rede and fraternity are lodging over that way. The whole Camp had better be changed at once, and entrusted to good experienced hands and honest men. Perhaps Sir Charles may turn into a Diogenes in vain—'nil desperandum.' There are now and then honest men to be found even in this colony.
Good reader, listen to me: I shall tell you no lie: do not lose sight of the above letter: I intend to give the end in the next chapter: meanwhile, fill the pipe, let's have a 'blow' together.
Mistero! S'Apre Mendacia, ViolenteStrada Maestra In Citta E Campagna:La Verita, Se Docile, QuadagnaA Passo Lo Stradello Lentamente.
(Translated in the text of my first chapter.)
On Thursday morning, November 30th, at sunrise, I was at my work, as usual.
I assert, as an eye-witness, that most of the hands on the Eureka came to their work, and worked as usual.
Whilst having a 'blow,' we would talk over again about the monster meeting of yesterday, thus spinning a yarn in the usual colonial style.
The general impression was, that as soon as government knew in Melbourne the real state of the excited feelings of the diggers, the licence-hunt would be put a stop to.
Towards ten o'clock was my hour for a working-man's breakfast.I used to retire to my tent from the heat of the mid-day, and on that sameThursday I set about, at once, to end my letter to Mr. Archer,because I was anxious to forward it immediately to Melbourne.
Good reader, I copy now, word for word, the scrawl then penned, in great haste and excitement.
Thursday, November 30th, 1854.
Just on my preparing to go and post this letter, we are worried by the usual Irish cry, to run to Gravel-pits. The traps are out for licences, and playing hell with the diggers. If that be the case, I am not inclined to give half-a-crown for the whole fixtures at the Camp.
I must go and see 'what's up.
Always your affectionate,(Signed) CARBONI RAFFAELLO.(To) W. H. ARCHER, Esq., Acting Registrar-General, Melbourne.
——-
Why this identical letter of mine—now in the hands of James Macpherson Grant, M.L.C., Solicitor, Collins-street, where it will remain till Christmas for inspection, to be then returned to the owner—was not produced at my STATE TRIAL, was, and is still, a MYSTERY to me!
Let's run to Bakery-hill.
Quos Vult Perdere Deus Dementat.
What's up? a licence hunt; old game. What's to be done? Peter Lalor was on the stump, his rifle in his hand, calling on volunteers to 'fall in' into ranks as fast as they rushed to Bakery-hill, from all quarters, with arms in their hands, just fetched from their tents. Alfred, George Black's brother, was taking down in a book the names of divisions in course of formation, and of their captains.
I went up to Lalor, and the moment he saw me, he took me by the hand saying, "I want you, Signore: tell these gentlemen, (pointing to old acquaintances of ours, who were foreigners) that, if they cannot provide themselves with fire-arms, let each of them procure a piece of steel, five or six inches long, attached to a pole, and that will pierce the tyrants' hearts." Peter of course spoke thus in his friendly way as usual towards me. He was in earnest though. The few words of French he knows, he can pronounce them tolerably well, but Peter is no scholar in modern languages; therefore he then appointed me his aide-de-camp, or better to say his interpreter, and now I am proud to be his historian.
Very soon after this, all the diggers 'fell in' in file of two-a-breast, and marched to the Eureka.
Captain Ross of Toronto, was our standard-bearer. He hoisted down theSouthern Cross from the flag-staff and headed the march.
Patrick Curtain, the chosen captain of the pikemen, gave me his iron pike, and took my sword to head his division; I 'fell in' with John Manning who also had a pike, and all of us marched in order to the Eureka.
I assert as an eye-witness, that we were within one thousand in the rank with all sort of arms, down to the pick and shovel.
We turned by the Catholic church, and went across the gully. Of this I have perfect recollection: when the 'Southern Cross' reached the road leading to the Eureka on the opposite hill, the file of two-a-breast crossing the gully, extended backwards up to the hill where the Catholic church stands. I took notice of the circumstance at the time.
We reached the hill where was my tent. How little did we know that some of the best among us had reached the place of their grave! Lalor gave the proper orders to defend ourselves among the holes in case the hunt should be attempted in our quarters.
The red-tape was by far too cunning this time; redcoats, traps and troopers had retired to the Ballaarat Camp, and wanted a 'spell.'
We determined, however, to put an end to their accursed licence-hunting, mock riot-act chopping, Vandemonian shooting down our mates in Gravel-pits.
Ad Opus Concilium Statutum.
Peter Lalor, at our request, called in all the captains of division, then present, and the chief persons who had taken part in the movement. We entered a room some twelve feet square, in Diamond's store. An old European fox for such occasions, I took the right sort of precautions, that no spy might creep in among us. Black bottles and tumblers were placed on the table, as a blind to any intruder; 'et nunc satis, profani vulgus causa,' we proceeded to business.
Present—
1. There was one, whom it is not prudent to mention just now.
2. Near him was a thick, short-necked, burly individual; his phisiog indicated at once that he was a priest-ridden. I won't trouble myself about his name.
3. I'll begin with TIMOTHY HAYES. He was born in Ireland, but his outward appearance is that of a noble fellow—tall, stout, healthy-looking man, giving himself the airs of a high-born gentleman, fit to rule, direct, superintend, not to work; that's quite another thing. Of a liberal mind, however, and, above all, of a kind heart, and that covers a multitude of sins.
4. EDWARD THONEN, a native of Elbertfeld, Prussia, five feet high, some thirty years old, thin, but robust, of vigorous health, used no razor. His eyes spoke determination and independence of character. One day in November, 1853, he called with his lemonade kegs at my hole in Sailor's Gully. A mate was served with a glass of lemonade—halloo! he must help at the windlass just at the moment he was tendering payment, and the shilling fell to the ground. Some words passed to the effect that six-pence a glass should be enough for lemonade. Thonen asked for his shilling; my mate directed him where the shilling lay; Thonen would see him d——d first before picking up his money like a dustman, and went away. I sent that identical shilling (stamped 1844), along with my little gold, to Rome; most astonishing! I had the presentiment at the time that I should have had occasion to relate the story. There was no mate on the gold-fields to match Thonen at chess-playing. He would turn his head, allow his opponent the move, and then he would give such a glance on the chess board, that the right piece would jump to the right place, as it were of its own accord. Shrewd, yet honest; benevolent, but scorning the knave; of deep thought, though prompt in action; Thonen possessed the head belonging to that cast of men whose word is their bond.
5. JOHN MANNING, born in Ireland, and an Irishman to the back-bone, appeared above forty years of age. His head was bald, perhaps from thinking three times more than he ought; his forehead showed intelligence, but care was there with the plough—the plough of dreaming too much of virtue, believing the knaves are not the majority on earth. He had come young to this colony, had passed hard days, and so he had got the colonial habit, now and then, 'Divo jucundo Baccho cultum prestare;' hence his hair was fast turning grey. He was a self-educated man, but wanted judgment to discipline his fermenting brain, for the control of his heart, which was good, honest, always warm, affectionate to man, woman, and child. When he took his quill he was 'all there,' but soon manifested the sort of reading of his youth; and experience, however hard, had not yet taught him the sober reality of the things of the world—that is, he had remained an Irishman, not John Bullised.
6. Oh! you long-legged VERN! with the eyes of an opossum, a common nose, healthy-looking cheeks, not very small mouth, no beard, long neck for Jack Ketch, broad shoulders, never broken down by too much work, splendid chest, long arms—the whole of your appearance makes you a lion amongst the fair sex, in spite of your bad English, worse German, abominable French. They say you come from Hanover, but your friends have seen too much in you of the Mexico-Peruvian. You belong to the school of the 'Illuminated Cosmopolitans;' you have not a dishonest heart, but you believe in nothing except the gratification of your silly vanity, or ambition, as you call it.
7. The next was a skinny bouncing curl who affected the tone and manners of a Californian; he acted throughout the part of a coward, I scorn to mention his name.
8. Thank God there is among us a man; not so tall as thick, of a strong frame, some thirty five years old, honest countenance, sober forehead, penetrating look, fine dark whiskers. His mouth and complexion denote the Irish, and he is the earnest, well-meaning, no-two-ways, non-John-Bullised Irishman, PETER LALOR, in whose eyes, the gaseous heroism of demagogues, or the knavery of peg-shifters is an abomination, because his height of impudence consisted in giving the diggers his hand, and leaving with them his arm in pawn, for to jump the Ballaarat claim in St. Patrick's Hall. More power to you Peter! Old chummy, smother the knaves! they breed too fast in this colony.
9. Myself, CARBONI RAFFAELLO, DA ROMA; Member of the College of Preceptors (1850), Bloomsbury-square, professor, interpreter and translator of the Italian, French, Spanish and German Language into English or vice versa late of 4, Castle-court, Birchin-lane, Cornhill, London; now, gold-digger of Ballaarat, was present.
10. PATRICK CURTAIN, an old digger, well known among us; at the time a storekeeper; husband and father of a beloved family. His caste is that of the Irishman-Johnbull; tall, robust, some forty years old; he is no friend to much yabber-yabber; of deep thinking, though very few can guess what he is thinking of. He smiles but never laughs to his heart's content. Curtain was captain, and subsequently lieutenant of the pikemen division, when they chose HANRAHAN for their captain. Said pikemen division was among the first that took up arms on Thursday, November 30th, immediately after the licence-hunt. It was formed on Bakery-hill, and received Lalor on the stump with acclamation. It increased hourly and permanently; was the strongest division in the Eureka stockade; in comparison to others, it stood the most true to the 'Southern Cross,' and consequently suffered the greatest loss on the morning of the massacre. Now, to explain how both its gallant leaders escaped unhurt, safe as the Bank, so that a few weeks afterwards, both were working happy and jolly in broad day-light on Gravel-pits, within a rifle shot from the Camp, that would be a job of a quite different kind just at present: sufficient the trouble to mention; that when I came out of gaol, I met them both in a remunerative hole in Gravel-pits, as aforesaid.
11. 12. There were two other individuals of the John-bull caste, perhaps cross-breed, who had taken up arms in the cause of the diggers, because their sly-trade was flagging; but, as a rotten case abides no handling, I will let them pass.
Manning, handed over to Lalor the motion drawn up in my tent. Here it is:-
Proposed by John Manning,
Seconded by Carboni Raffaello,
I. That Peter Lalor has acted worthy of the miners of Ballaarat, in organizing the armed men on Bakeryhill, against the wanton aggression from the Camp this morning.
II. That he be desired to call in all captains of division now present on the spot, as well as other persons of importance, well-known good-wishers to the cause of the diggers.
III. That said parties constitute the council-of-war for the defence.
IV. Lalor to be the president pro. tem.
V. That he proceed at once to the election of the Commander-in-Chief, by the majority of votes.
Lalor tore up immediately the slip of paper containing the above motion, because he did not think it prudent to leave written things about in a public store. I transcribe it from the scrap left among the papers in my tent.
Quousque Tandem Abutere, Toorak, Patientia Nostra?
Lalor rose, and said:
"Gentlemen, I find myself in the responsible position I now occupy, for this reason. The diggers, outraged at the unaccountable conduct of the Camp officials in such a wicked licence-hunt at the point of the bayonet, as the one of this morning, took it as an insult to their manhood, and a challenge to the determination come to at the monster meeting of yesterday. The diggers rushed to their tents for arms, and crowded on Bakery-hill. They wanted a leader. No one came forward, and confusion was the consequence. I mounted the stump, where you saw me, and called on the people to 'fall in' into divisions, according to the fire-arms they had got, and to chose their own captains out of the best men they had among themselves. My call was answered with unanimous acclamation, and complied to with willing obedience. The result, is, that I have been able to bring about that order, without which it would be folly to face the pending struggle like men. I make no pretensions to military knowledge. I have not the presumption to assume the chief command, no more than any other man who means well in the cause of the diggers. I shall be glad to see the best among us take the lead. In fact, gentlemen, I expected some one who is really well known (J. B. Humffray?) to come forward and direct our movement! However, if you appoint me your commander-in-chief, I shall not shrink; I mean to do my duty as a man. I tell you, gentlemen, if once I pledge my hand to the diggers, I will neither defile it with treachery, nor render it contemptible by cowardice."
Brave Peter, you gave us your hand on the Eureka, and left there your arm: an incontestable evidence of Lalor's Pledge.
Manning then proposed Raffaello, and pointed at his scars as an evidence of his tiger-pluck against the hated Austrian rule, which was now attempted, in defiance of God and man, to be transplanted into this colony.
I declined, because, during the past winter, I had over-tasked my physical strength, and did not possess that vigour essential to such an emergency. Confidence is the bond necessary between the soldier and his officer. It was my decided opinion, however much a foreigner may be respected on the gold-fields, that the right man should be taken from among Britons.
Vern here began a portentous lecture on military science, military discipline, military tactics, and other sorts of militaryism, but his English was so wretched, his ideas so sky-blathering, his martial ardour so knocking down, that no one could make anything out of his blabberdom.
Of this I have perfect recollection. He was boasting eternally of his German rifle-brigade! 500 strong. That he had this brigade he urgently asserted; but where it was, that's the rub!
No possible inquiry from Lalor could get at the bottom of Vern's prodigal brigade. Is, then, the grand secret buried within Vern's splendid chest? No; I mean to reveal it at four o'clock, Saturday, December 2nd.
Carboni Raffaello, who had heard heaps of cant in old Europe, did count for nothing the oceanic military knowledge of Vern, in spite of his big trail-sword, that made more jingling than enough.
I commended, in high terms, the conduct of Lalor during the morning, and it was my impression that he possessed the confidence of the diggers and should be their Commander-in-chief.
Thonen seconded the motion. The first 'unnamed,' shewed approbation, and the appointment was carried by a majority of eleven to one.
Peter Lalor thanked the council for the honour conferred on him, assured the members that he was determined to prepare the diggers to resist force by force.
It was perfectly understood, and openly declared, in this first council-of-war, that we meant to organise for defence, and that we had taken up arms for no other purpose.
The council adjourned to five o'clock in the evening.
Lalor Stump, Bakery-Hill.
Brave LALOR—Was found 'all there,'With dauntless dare,His men inspiring;To wolf or bear,Defiance bidding,He made us swear,Be faithful to the Standard, )For Victory or Death! ) (bis)
——-
On that Thursday, November 30th, more memorable than the disgraced Sunday, December 3rd, the SUN was on its way towards the west: in vain some scattered clouds would hamper its splendour—the god in the firmament generously ornamented them with golden fringes, and thus patches of blue sky far off were allowed to the sight, through the gilded openings among the clouds.
The 'SOUTHERN CROSS' was hoisted up the flagstaff—a very splendid pole, eighty feet in length, and straight as an arrow. This maiden appearance of our standard, in the midst of armed men, sturdy, self-overworking gold-diggers of all languages and colours, was a fascinating object to behold. There is no flag in old Europe half so beautiful as the 'Southern Cross' of the Ballaarat miners, first hoisted on the old spot, Bakery-hill. The flag is silk, blue ground, with a large silver cross, similar to the one in our southern firmament; no device or arms, but all exceedingly chaste and natural.
Captain Ross, of Toronto, was the bridegroom of our flag, and sword in hand, he had posted himself at the foot of the flag-staff, surrounded by his rifle division.
Peter Lalor, our Commander-in-chief, was on the stump, holding with his left hand the muzzle of his rifle, whose butt-end rested on his foot. A gesture of his right hand, signified what he meant when he said, "It is my duty now to swear you in, and to take with you the oath to be faithful to the Southern Cross. Hear me with attention. The man who, after this solemn oath does not stand by our standard, is a coward in heart.
"I order all persons who do not intend to take the oath, to leave the meeting at once.
"Let all divisions under arms 'fall in' in their order round the flag-staff."
The movement was made accordingly. Some five hundred armed diggers advanced in real sober earnestness, the captains of each division making the military salute to Lalor, who now knelt down, the head uncovered, and with the right hand pointing to the standard exclaimed a firm measured tone:
An universal well rounded AMEN, was the determined reply; some five hundred right hands stretched towards our flag.
The earnestness of so many faces of all kinds of shape and colour; the motley heads of all sorts of size and hair; the shagginess of so many beards of all lengths and thicknesses; the vividness of double the number of eyes electrified by the magnetism of the southern cross; was one of those grand sights, such as are recorded only in the history of 'the Crusaders in Palestine.'