Eureka: The Unfinished Revolution

by Peter Fitzsimons

  Despite his melancholy, gazing back at Melbourne, it is impossible for La Trobe not to compare the bustling, thrusting city before his eyes with the rustic outpost he had encountered when he arrived almost 15 years earlier. Back then, muddy Melbourne had just one street worthy of the name, Collins Street - penned in on each side by higgledy-piggledy, single-storey houses made from the wood of wattle trees plastered with mud, known as ‘wattle and daub’. Then, there had been just 3000 free settlers, most of them struggling. Now, there were myriad streets stretching to the far horizons and beyond, with many stylish double-storey brick houses that would do London proud, and the colony of Victoria itself had tripled in population in the last three years to boast around 250,000 people, many of them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. The population of Melbourne itself is approaching 80,000.

  Clearly La Trobe must have been doing some things well to have presided over such a stunning transformation.

  As to the diggers, he feels he has done what he can, including a plea that the franchise be extended to them.

  ‘I would briefly explain,’ he writes to the Duke of Newcastle, in a letter accompanying the proposed Bill to establish a Constitution for Victoria, ‘that, under the existing Constitutional Act, individuals occupying waste lands of the Crown for the purpose of mining, are not entitled to exercise the elective franchise. As persons of this class now form so large a proportion of our population, and contribute so much to our revenue, the propriety and necessity of their being fairly represented in the Legislature has been fully recognised.’76

  (For, against the wishes of La Trobe, the Victorian Constitution that has been presented has an Upper House elected by a small elite of the propertied classes, making it even more conservative than its New South Wales counterpart, where the Upper House is exclusively nominated by the Governor.) But it is equally true, and La Trobe knows it, that the city of Melbourne and the colony have now grown beyond his capacity to control them. Like a baby tiger cub that was once so much fun to play with, and even train, Victoria is now grown to the point where that control cannot endure. At least not under his stewardship. It will be for the next Lieutenant-Governor to try to sort it out, when he arrives in a month’s time …

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ENTER HOTHAM

  Went to Geelong in right good times, everything going on first rate until the news of the discovery of the gold. Then everything was upside down, men would not work at any price, contracts broke, men and masters going to the diggings. Jack was as good as his master.1

  John Brooksbank, a hardworking Yorkshireman from Bradford

  Thursday, 23 June 1854,2 by Port Phillip Bay, on Sandridge Pier, an auspicious arrival

  Positions, everyone, for the great man is nearly here! Yes, His Excellency Sir Charles Hotham, Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath, former Royal Navy Commodore and the man personally selected by the Fifth Duke of Newcastle, Secretary of State for War and the Colonies, to replace Charles Joseph La Trobe, is, as we speak, upon his ship, the mighty Queen of the South, and about to land on Australian shores for the first time. A public holiday has been declared in Victoria to mark the occasion!

  True, we Victorians don’t know a great deal about this fellow, other than that he is a 48-year-old knight of the realm who has recently married no less than Jane Sarah, daughter of Samuel Hood, Second Baron Bridport and grand-niece of Horatio Nelson on her mother’s side. The main thing is that Hotham is not Charles La Trobe, who departed for home four months ago, and we have high hopes that the new man can put many things to rights that La Trobe was incapable of.

  Gaily hanging across every street that the procession is to make its way down are colourfully decorated banners bearing mottos of loyalty to the crown in general, and welcome to the new Lieutenant-Governor specifically. At every window and house front there is exhibited either a Union Jack or a decoration composed of the wild-flowers and evergreens of Victoria.

  Out on Queen of the South, Sir Charles Hotham, his wife, Lady Hotham, and his tight entourage of officials are making their own preparations to alight. Having entered Port Phillip Bay the previous afternoon, they had awoken this morning to see a thick mist covering everything. As the sun has shone the mist has burnt off, revealing a thick forest of masts in that little nook of Port Phillip Bay known as Hobson’s Bay, indicating that, whatever else, they are entering a port of great commercial importance. Sir Charles himself, of course, knows that already, having been fully briefed in London before departing and having studied his papers on the journey to this distant shore. But he equally knows that while the colony’s financial numbers are impressively high in terms of commerce, they are unsustainably high in terms of expenditure. His principal job in Victoria will be to balance the books, no matter what it takes. He is so intent on this mission that he has been heard to remark as the ship was leaving England, ‘A little blood-letting would not do the unruly gold-miners any harm.’3 He is determined to make the most of this new position, to demonstrate his capacities before this new challenge and …

  And from the shores, all the way across Port Phillip Bay, the explosion of the much-awaited signal rocket is heard, followed by the sight of its red flare high in the sky above them. It is the signal that all is now ready on the shore to properly receive them.

  At Sandridge Pier, just fifteen minutes later, the signal rocket receives its reply as the sound of booming cannon fire from Her Majesty’s ships Electra and Fantome comes rolling across the water, telling those ashore that His Excellency has disembarked onto the barge of Electra and is now on his way towards them. Then comes the strangest sound of all. It starts as a low murmur and builds in intensity until it is rather like distant thunder. What can it be? Why it is, as The Argus subsequently reports, ‘The resounding cheers of British tars belonging to the shipping in the Bay, greeting the arrival of a Governor of their own profession.’4

  And just a few minutes later, there he is! As the barge comes gliding towards the pier, propelled by the powerful arms of ten good men and true, a slim, uniformed figure, wearing around his neck a broad scarlet riband supporting the jewels of the Order of the Bath, is seen standing on its bow, a beautifully attired young woman beside him. That must be him. And Lady Hotham.

  Positions, everyone.

  In only a minute more the barge is alongside the pier platform, where the Right Worshipful, newly installed Mayor of Melbourne, John Thomas Smith, stands with his head uncovered to greet the Vice-Regal party, at the head of the City Council and Town Clerk, other government officers, Members of the Executive Council - the four-member advisory body placed at the service of the Lieutenant-Governor - military officers and foreign consuls. There is rapturous applause and cheering as His Excellency steps forward to shake hands with them all. All lean forward to get a better look at this grand personage.

  Slightly taller than average, this knight is rather slight in aspect, slightly bald and, frankly, a little ordinary looking for one so grand. Nor does he seem to have much of the sailor about him for one with such a naval record.

  ‘He has not,’ The Argus correspondent feels bound to report, ‘we fancy, the inventive faculty, so useful in suggesting ingenious expedients for untried circumstances; or the political faculty, fitting him for the higher walks of statesmanship; but he has the administrative faculty, which constitutes a thorough man of business … His mind is sharp, but probably deficient in breadth. Upon the whole, his appearance is in his favour; his head is well balanced, and admirably adapted for practical life.’5

  His good lady wife, who is clearly much younger than her second husband, Sir Charles - perhaps by as much as a decade, for a lady never tells - makes a stronger first-up impression. With a fair complexion and piercing blue eyes, she has the air of being that most wonderful personage, the unaffected aristocrat.

  ‘Nothing,’ The Argus reports, ‘could be more gratifying than the joyous expression of her ladyship’s countenance upon ascending the platform, indicating the del
ight she experienced from the reception given to her gallant husband.’ 6

  And now as the honour guard of the 40th Regiment, under the approving eye of commanding officer Captain John Wellesley Thomas, ‘pre-sents … arms’, the band strikes up the national anthem, ‘God Save the Queen’, before the whole party slowly forms up and heads off beneath a triumphal arch with the motto ‘Welcome to Sandridge, Sir Charles Hotham’ brightly emblazoned upon it. They make their way off the pier to yet more wild cheering as they proceed between all those groups who are to take part in the cavalcade. Met by the Mayor and ascending through the guard of honour, Lady Hotham is put in a horse-drawn carriage with the Lieutenant-Governor’s private secretary, Captain J. H. Kay, whilst His Excellency is accompanied by the officer administering the government and his large staff on horseback, as they ride along the path formed by the two roaring lines of people, the whole three miles to the city.

  Finally, the procession is ready to head off with Sir Charles and his entourage in the lead. Together they all make their way towards the city of Melbourne and then Government House in Toorac - a mansion especially chosen for the incoming Lieutenant-Governor by Charles La Trobe before he had departed for home. And of course the streets are lined with people, dozens deep, cheering them all to the echo. Upon every balcony, and from every window, there are yet more people cheering, waving flags.

  As the correspondent for The Argus comments, ‘It was more like the ovation of a conquering hero, and reminded us of Shakespeare’s description of the triumphs of ancient Rome,

  Many a time and oft have ye climb’d up To towers and battlements - yea, to chimney tops, Your children in your arms, and thereto have sat The livelong day to see

  Not “great Pompey pass the streets of Rome”, but gallant Hotham pass the streets of Melbourne; not in triumph over seas of blood, but amid a hearty welcome from loyal British hearts, over whom he is destined to exercise the functions of loyalty for a time.’7

  And yet, surely not even one of Pompey’s wives (for that great Roman leader was blessed with no fewer than five such delights) was treated in the manner that Hotham later describes to Newcastle. Witness Sir Charles’s own words to his superior: ‘Nor can I omit mentioning a trifling circumstance which will give your Grace an idea of the feelings of this hardy and energetic people, the leaders of Lady Hotham’s carriage proving restive, it was resolved to take them off, and the populace with difficulty dissuaded from yoking themselves and dragging the carriage the whole distance from Sandridge to Melbourne.’8

  Lead on, Sir Charles, followed by, in strict order of importance - an order that has been hotly negotiated - the pillars of Melbourne society upon whom the new Lieutenant-Governor’s authority will be principally relying.

  First up come the members of the Town Council, together with the Chief Magistrate, and, as The Argus would report, this ‘gave an imprimatur of authority and publicity to the demonstration’.9 Next are the Magistrates in their full legal robes, not only ‘the upholders of law and order’, but also ‘the link between the Crown and the people’. Following them are ‘the clergy, the inculcators of religion, morality, and loyalty’.10 Then come the Legislative Council, Judges, Consuls, the heads of the government’s administrative departments, closely followed by the Chamber of Commerce in the form of some of Melbourne’s leading merchants, proudly taking their place as the people cheer them on.

  And look, ye! Here now are the Societies and Lodges of Freemasonry, Odd Fellowship, Ancient Foresters and the Sons of St Patrick, each group dressed and adorned with their own costumes and regalia, holding up banners bearing loyal mottos and accompanied by bands of music. Among them we see an extraordinary figure adorned with ‘the pure white robes of an ancient bard or harper, with grey locks and flowing beard, crowned with laurel and playing on his harp, the emblem of the Emerald Isle.’11 Not to be outdone, the other national groups like the Welsh Colonists, the Germans, Frenchmen, Poles, Hungarians and Italians are also gaily adorned.

  Few are more impressive or numerous, however, than the Americans, who are doing what Americans always do so well - turning out in force. Their contingent includes the American Consul, James Tarleton, in his official uniform, riding in a gilded carriage drawn by six splendid horses, the carriage magnificently decorated with national emblems, arms and colours, followed by many fine Americans on horseback wearing military caps and sashes.

  And still the procession goes on! After the foreigners come the jolly, ruddy-faced farmers, ‘with ears of wheat or other cereal produce in their hats, bound with ribands of red, white, and blue’, then the Licensed Victuallers’ Association, and then yet one more delight. ‘Next … came Typo, the great intelligencer of the age, with his Press at work on a four wheeled wagon, throwing off a brief history of the colony up to the arrival of Sir Charles Hotham, in an ornamental form of typography. The senior pressman of the trade, dressed in masonic orders, and wearing the cap of liberty, presided at this locomotive Press, and a large muster of the profession were present in the procession.’12

  Hard behind are the carpenters, builders and plumbers, the Total Abstinence Society, the company and handsome horses of Row’s Circus and the excited children of the colony, ‘with their tiny voices joining in the general hurrah’,13 bringing up the rear.

  Borne along by the unending cheering, the procession winds its way along the road from the beach towards Melbourne proper, with the crowd getting ever thicker as it moves along.

  Governor Hotham finally crosses the Yarra River to enter the city beneath a huge banner embossed with a large gilt crown beneath which, in blue letters upon a white background, are the words, ‘VICTORIA WELCOMES VICTORIA’S CHOICE‘.14

  Hotham, even with his ample experience of such public occasions, is quite overcome by the magnitude and opulence of his reception by no fewer than 60,000 people: ‘Politics were forgotten, loyalty prevailed - men, women and children gave way to recollections of the old country and devotion to their Sovereign.’15

  There is much more to come as the procession makes its way towards Government House in Toorac. The shouts become more deafening as the convoy continues. It passes the Criterion Hotel, where, at great expense, an immense crown of gold and crimson, trimmed with green boughs and measuring not less than sixteen feet in diameter and about ten feet in height, has been erected on the facade.

  ‘Around the crown was a wreath of green leaves, and on a blue ground and in golden letters the following inscription was emblazoned: “A QUEEN’S CHOICE, A PEOPLE’S PRIDE, WELCOME!”’16

  Turning at William Street, the procession passes government offices, then St James Cathedral, and finally arrives at the gates of Government House, where it is estimated a crowd of some eight to 10,000 people have gathered.

  As Sir Charles enters his new gates and confidently alights from the carriage to walk the last 50 yards, the people cheer and wave their hats and handkerchiefs. The glorious Vice-Regal standard is run up the flagpole to show His Excellency is in residence, just as the cannon from the barracks roars its own notification that Her Majesty’s representative is now on site at Government House.

  At the door to the magnificent building await immaculately attired ladies and gentlemen of Victoria’s high society, while a company of 100 men of the mighty 40th Regiment forms up a fine guard of honour. They stand silent and straight-backed sentinel as the Vice-Regal party enters the green grass-plot formed by their obeisance, all of it joyously observed by the people crowded on the roofs opposite.

  Presently, all the major players gather in a square of power formed by the ranks of the 40th Regiment as Mr Rusden, the Clerk of the Executive Council, reads the proclamation from the official scroll, and graced with the great seal of England, signed by the Duke of Newcastle, appointing Sir Charles Augustus Hotham, KCB, to be Lieutenant-Governor of the colony of Victoria …

  ‘The following oaths were then administered to Sir Charles seriatim [in order], the oath of allegiance, the oath of abjuration, the oath of supre
macy, the oath of office, the oath to preserve the laws of trade, and the declaration of Protestantism.’17

  Sir Charles solemnly takes all the oaths, signs documents to that effect and, now that he is officially the Lieutenant-Governor, he is greeted with enormous cheering, quite equal to the cheering extended to Lady Hotham!

  His Excellency then enters Government House, and it looks as thought it is all over bar the shouting - and cheering. And yet, feeling it his duty to address the masses, he breaks with protocol, soon re-emerging on the small upper window balcony on the top of the porch. In a clear, loud, ‘quarter-deck’ voice, he addresses the throng:

  ‘Gentlemen, I know not whether it be according to custom, that I should address you on the present occasion, but this I do know, that it would be most unbecoming in me, to allow you to separate without expressing my hearty thanks for the very cordial welcome which you have this day given me.

  ‘I come among you, an entire stranger - your welcome is not therefore for me, but for the representative of the Queen, and in Her Majesty’s name I thank you. I shall officially and in my public despatches make this known to Her Majesty’s Government and I have also other means privately to bring the same before Her Majesty.

  ‘I shall govern you as an honest man; I shall look neither to the right nor the left - I shall do my duty and try to please you - again, I thank you.’18

  Again, he is cheered to the echo.

  Did you hear him? This is a man who personally communicates with the Queen! And we practically know him.

  His Excellency is off to a wonderful start.

  ‘It was essentially a popular demonstration of the most enthusiastic kind,’ The Argus reports the following day, ‘and as a means of building up a kindly sympathy between the ruler and the ruled, its effects cannot but be largely beneficial.’19