It is an astute choice. Captain John Wellesley Thomas is the softly spoken career officer who has already done great work improving the security at the Camp when he was on Ballarat a month earlier, and that is precisely what Rede feels he needs more of at this moment, as the situation deteriorates. It is one thing to have many men under arms, but having them properly organised militarily is quite another, and as that is not something within Rede’s field of training, Thomas would be a good fit.
As it turns out, Thomas is already on his way.
Tuesday morning, 28 November 1854, Ballarat boils
There is revolution in the air. It is not open rebellion, yet, but that heady sense that the diggers are rising against an iniquitous regime is everywhere, touching everything. All over the diggings, notices have been placed on posts, on walls, on anything standing still, advising of a meeting to be held on the morrow, mates:
DOWN WITH THE LICENSE FEE
DOWN WITH DESPOTISM!
‘WHO SO BASE AS BE A SLAVE?’
ON
WEDNESDAY NEXT
The 29th Instant, at Two o’clock
A MEETING
Of all the DIGGERS; STOREKEEPERS, and Inhabitants of Ballarat generally, will be held
ON BAKERY HILL
For the immediate Abolition of the License Fee, and the speedy attainment of the other objects of the Ballarat Reform League. The report of the Deputations which have gone to the Lieutenant-Governor to demand the release of the prisoners lately convicted, and to Creswick and Forest Creeks, Bendigo, &c., will also be submitted at the same time.
All who claim the right to a voice in the framing of the Laws under which they should live, are solemnly bound to attend the Meeting and further its objects to the utmost extent of their power.
N.B. Bring your Licenses, they may be wanted.41
PRINTED AT THE TIMES OFFICE, BAKERY HILL, BALLARAT
It is with great interest that the increasingly alarmed authorities note that the posters have been printed in the office of Henry Seekamp’s Ballarat Times.
Tuesday morning, 28 November 1854, Melbourne looks north-west with anxiety
The good people of Melbourne are watching events in Ballarat with a growing, fearful fascination. On this day The Argus reports, in an article entitled ‘GOVERNMENT BY ARTILLERY’, ‘Intelligence reached town yesterday that the diggers at Ballarat were in open revolt and had seized upon Commissioner Rede and Inspector Evans, as hostages, till the release of the three men now in the Eureka riot. How this is true, we are unable positively to state but it is certain that troops, police, and artillery, have again been ordered up to the scene of action. This looks serious; and we fear that we may shortly have to report very sorrowful news indeed …
‘But threatening as appearances may be, the Government is now but receiving the due reward of its deeds. It sowed the wind, and it is reaping the whirlwind …
‘If blood be shed, the results will probably be very serious indeed … To fire rashly or inconsiderately upon such a mob would be to throw down the gauntlet of battle, and plunge the colony in the calamities of civil war.
‘But on the other hand we must warn the diggers that it is no slight affair upon which they are entering. They have a gentleman to deal with who will not bear to be trifled with. Sir Charles Hotham is, as he himself expresses it, ‘a man of war’, and as one who has smelt gunpowder, he is not likely to mince matters …’42
Tuesday afternoon, 28 November 1854, an English officer arrives at the Government Camp in Ballarat
As opposed to many of the military men now in Ballarat, the newest arrival to the troubled town, Captain Charles Pasley, is not here because he has been commanded to be so. The 30-year-old Englishman is a high-ranking army officer with the Royal Engineers and of impeccable pedigree. His father is Sir Charles Pasley, founder of the Royal Military School of Engineering in 1812 and the current Colonel Commandant of the Royal Engineers. Charles Jnr is now the Colonial Engineer of Victoria and recently appointed by Lieutenant-Governor Hotham to the Legislative Council, so there are few who can actually give him orders.
Militarily, he is second-in-command to Captain Wellesley Thomas, who arrived again just the day before, but politically he reigns supreme on these goldfields. He has come from Melbourne at his own request, because, as he would explain in a letter to his father, he is fully cognisant of the political implications of the unrest should it start to grow in amplitude and spread to other diggings.
‘I thought the consequences would be very serious, and at the same time, if [we soldiers] resisted and were beaten in fights by the insurgents I had no doubt that a general rebellion would ensue. Feeling as I did upon the subject I thought it was my duty to offer my services at once, as I could not tell whether the authorities at Ballarat were as much impressed as I was with the importance of the events which must occur in a very few days.’43
True, the reason he had been nominated to the Legislative Council in the first place had been to mollify him after the Lieutenant-Governor, without consulting the Executive Council or anyone else as far as Pasley could see, had appointed a rival as Director of Public Works. A pity, because Charles Pasley, too, really prefers building things to tearing them down. But now he is on the ground, in the middle of the greatest issue of the day, and determined to prove himself in this sphere.
He is appalled by what he observes upon his arrival at the Government Camp:
‘I … found a small force … in an exposed and defenceless camp, consisting of tents and light wooden buildings, by no means musket proof, surrounded on three sides by hills and houses, pressing close upon it.’44
The one positive thing that he can see is the presence of Captain Thomas, whom, though they have never met before, he likes a great deal and immediately respects for his ‘steady, resolute, business-like, and at the same time quiet manner’.45
The two soldiers immediately get to work on how they can make the Camp more secure, and it is Pasley who comes up with the first serious idea, which Thomas immediately embraces. Noting how many habitations there are that practically surround the Camp, it becomes obvious that the buildings have to be neutralised as a staging point from which any attack could be launched. So Thomas and Pasley immediately call all the householders of the township together and tell them, frankly, that if that does happen their houses will be burnt to the ground. It is their duty to maintain the Camp’s position at any cost, including lost life and property, but they feel equally obliged to give fair warning to that effect so the residents and shop-owners can make their arrangements accordingly.
‘I believe this had a very good effect,’ Pasley tells his father, ‘because it brought their pecuniary interests on the side of order. This was not however a mere threat - it was fully intended to be carried out, and I had prepared fire balls to throw on the houses if necessary.’46
It is something, anyway. Both men feel relieved that military reinforcements are not far off, as they had been due to leave Melbourne just behind them.
Tuesday evening, 28 November 1854, cries in the night on the Ballarat diggings
In that strong twilight hour of dusk, when the battle between day and night is at its most evenly balanced, when the air is thick with the delicious smoke of burning eucalyptus from the newly lit evening fires around the diggings, there is many a digger who has finished his day’s work and is just getting ready to rustle up some grub when he suddenly cocks his ear to the softly-softly wind. Say, mate, what is that …? Horses? Yes, horses. Many of them. And that jingle-jangle of the stirrups, the occasional guttural command from far off and the odd screech of, yes, metal on rock, says it is most likely military horsemen, mounted troopers leading horse-drawn carts in which many foot soldiers and supplies are being transported. And sure enough, within minutes, 106 Redcoats of the 40th Regiment appear. Having arrived in Geelong aboard the steamer Shandon from Melbourne just before midnight the previous evening, they immediately embark on the approximately 60-mile journey to Ballar
at,47 and they are accompanied by a party of mounted police from Geelong.
From the beginning, and despite their obvious exhaustion at the end of such a long journey, the Redcoats have the manner about them of British men who are just spoiling for a battle - let the diggers make just one wrong move. This feeling is further exacerbated when their commanding officer, Captain Henry Wise, has his men load their muskets even as they unlatch the cartridge boxes that they have on their right hips attached to a shoulder belt, and fix bayonets, even as they march through the diggings. It is an aggressive move, calculated to demonstrate that a serious military force is now on the ground.
And so, of course, the diggers greet the arrivals in the now traditional manner … and the cry goes up.
‘Joe!’ ‘Joe!’ ‘JOE!’
Like a strange breed of rabbit, digger after digger pops his head up from his hole, or from behind a pile of earth beside it, or from out the flap of his tent, and spies the new arrivals and echoes: ‘Joe!’ ‘Joe!‘ ‘JOE!’
Such calls arouse other diggers to take a look, and soon it has gone from the odd cry to an outcry: ‘JOE!’ ‘JOE!’ ‘JOE!’48
Yes, the calls come in nigh on as many accents as there are diggers, but the common feature is taunting insolence. For it is not yelled by way of cheery greeting, but spat out with venom - a release of disgust that it has come to this, that the government is sending whole armed regiments to quell their legitimate plaints.
For their part, the troopers stare balefully back at these uncouth, rude and positively insolent mud-men from the mining shafts. The tension between the mounted and the miners is indeed so great that it is the opinion of The Ballarat Times that had the diggers themselves been armed at the time, ‘nothing could have saved a collision’.49
Just as it is truly falling dark, the unmistakable sound of men approaching on horseback is heard once more …
Only a couple of miles away at this time, Ballarat is being visited by the Melbourne-based Consul of the United States, James Tarleton, a personal friend of no less than US President Franklin Pierce, who had taken up his posting some six months earlier. As Tarleton is representative of a nation whose birth was marked by the throwing off of British shackles under the cry of ‘No taxation without representation’, there is more interest than usual in his presence at such a tense time, by both the diggers in general and the authorities, not to mention the roughly 600 American diggers on the Ballarat goldfields.50
That evening there is a reception in honour of Thanksgiving Day to be held at the Victoria Saloon,51 and both Commissioner Rede and Acting Police Magistrate Charles Prendergast Hackett - who had earnt his law degree from the prestigious Trinity College in Dublin - are sure to attend in their finery, together with other officials, the leading burghers of Ballarat and representatives from the Geelong Advertiser, The Ballarat Times and The Melbourne Morning Herald. Despite the fine clothes and wine, and the best silver on the goldfields set on the table, the tensions in the outside world, including the world far beyond Ballarat, do not abate.
Given that Great Britain is at war with Russia in the Crimea at this time, the former is more keen than usual to have close relations with its former adversary and increasingly important trading partner, the United States of America. The British fear that the Russians will invade Port Phillip Bay is so great that fortifications at the head of the bay are already being built on that contingency - just as they are in Sydney Harbour - while an armed steam sloop, Victoria, is being constructed. It is time for English-speaking countries to strengthen their ties, not loosen them.
So the delicate task at hand then is to persuade the Americans to cease and desist beating the republican drum while in Australia without antagonising them. At least, it appears that Tarleton is aware of his diplomatic responsibilities as he notes to the gathered Americans in the audience how important it is ‘to obey the laws and instructions of this country’52 and how sure he is that his countrymen will ‘abstain from interference in the present agitation’.53 It is heartening that both such sentiments are greeted with great applause from the Americans present.
Against that, quietly, Commissioner Rede has his suspicions, as he would subsequently report to his superiors ‘that the Americans are playing a deep game’ and ‘without appearing to take any part in the [protest] meetings … they are in a most insidious manner urging on the mob without showing themselves, and I can only suppose it is with the view of Americanising this Colony’.54
Even as James Tarleton is making his speech, there is the sound of shots being fired in the distance. Tarleton soldiers on, but then one of Rede’s underlings whispers something in the Commissioner’s ear, something that visibly upsets him. He rises to respond to Tarleton when the time is right - congratulating the Consul on dispensing such wise advice to his countrymen - but excuses himself shortly thereafter as he must away on urgent business un-named, heightening the sense that not far ‘neath the seeming normality a crisis is building to its climax. The likelihood that this crisis involves a person or people breaking the law is apparent in that Magistrate Charles Hackett, who has been seated just to the right of the Consul, is in close attendance on Rede as he leaves.
The sound of more gunshots in the distance does nothing to dispel this sense. Conversation invariably ceases for seconds at a time … All strain to hear if there are any follow-up shots. No? Then it is only an isolated act of anger, and perhaps not worth worrying about for the moment.
The evening’s proceedings continue with a very well-cut and obviously intelligent young American digger by the name of James McGill, who claims to have been trained at the United States Military Academy at West Point, rising to graciously respond to a toast that has been made to the US Army, in which he says he has had the great honour to serve. And yet, soon afterwards, when another aide comes in and whispers into the ear of James Tarleton, the Consul, too, presents his excuses and heads away to troubles unknown.
But enough of that for now …
It is time for the chairman, the venerable and impressively named Dr William Beauclerk Otway - an Englishman who served in the US Army before becoming a digger - who now stands for a toast.
‘Gentlemen,’ he says, lifting his glass, ‘to Her Majesty, the Queen.’
…
There is no response!
Protocol would have deemed it proper for Commissioner Rede to respond to the toast to Her Majesty Queen Victoria. In his absence, alas, not one of the Queen’s loyal subjects steps forward to do the honours and an exceedingly awkward silence falls upon the room.
For Otway is joined by … no-one? Yes, no-one.
Unable to bear it a second longer, Otway, appalled at this affront to Her Majesty, says if no British subject will volunteer, then he will toast her alone.
Not to be outdone, at this point the chief correspondent for The Ballarat Times, Samuel Irwin, leaving behind all notions that a journalist should be a chronicler of events and not a participant therein - he is, after all, a fully paid-up member of the Ballarat Reform League - jumps to his feet. ‘While I and my fellow Colonists claim to be, and are thoroughly loyal to our sovereign lady the Queen, we do not, and will not respect her men servants, her oxen, or her asses.’55
With these last words he gestures towards the recently vacated chairs of Rede and Hackett and is rewarded by ‘tumultuous applause’56 from seemingly all present, including, of course, many of the American diggers.
The Americans have been in quite a sensitive position on the diggings as the situation has become more and more unstable. They have always been regarded with a gimlet eye by the colonial authorities for their revolutionary leanings, and for that reason have been careful not to push themselves to the fore in the protests.
‘But the time had now come,’ American digger Charles Ferguson would later recount, ‘when we were compelled to act or stand neutral. Others complained that we were doing nothing … and began to accuse us of cowardice … [though we] were in full and hearty sympathy wi
th the miners … We told them that if they went on they would have our sympathy, and if they made a stand they would not find us wanting, but we were not going to have it thrown upon our shoulders that we were the instigators of the outbreak, which it would be if it failed, and which, I ventured to add, it would; for which remark I was called a coward.’57
The time is indeed coming fast, bearing down upon them, when every man will have to choose between standing neutral and acting.
Back out on the goldfields, no-one challenges the capricious rule of cruel chaos in the moonlight. The latest arrival has been a company from the 12th Regiment, which is the 40th’s brother regiment. And while there are ways to get to the Government Camp that do not involve marching right by the diggings, the soldiers do not take that sensible option and are soon in the thick of diggers who suddenly feel invaded. This provocative move proves to be even more unwise because this time the soldiers march without muskets loaded or bayonets bared, making themselves easy targets. And to make matters worse, they then get lost in the thin light.
It is an opportunity too good to miss. The diggers around Eureka - where the more hot-headed of the Irish are thicker than fleas on a stray dog - perhaps regretting that they had let the 40th through relatively unscathed, are even more aggressive in their hooted derision. This time they press in even closer, demanding to know if the drays bear any weapons to be used on the diggers in coming days?
The commanding officer of the 12th, Captain Richard Atkinson, who is appalled at their presumption, draws himself high on his remarkably high horse, and says he wishes to hold ‘no communication with rebels’.58
It is not just his haughty words, however, but the manner in which the Englishman delivers them that infuriates the mob, and what little remains of their self-control suddenly evaporates in an outpouring of heated emotion.
Eureka: The Unfinished Revolution Page 36
