The Eureka Stockade [60]
of us, can look back with laudable pride upon our lives, and not a page in the record of the past can unfold a single transgression which would degrade us before man, or for which we would be condemned before our Maker. And we naturally ask why we should be treated as if our lives had been one succession of crime, or as if society breathed freely once more at being rid of our dangerous and demoralising presence. Even the Sunday, that to all men in Christendom is a day of relaxation and comparative enjoyment, to us is one of gloom and weariness, being locked up in a dreary cell from three o'clock Saturday evening till seven on Monday morning (except for about an hour and a half on Sunday); thus locked up in a narrow dungeon for forty consecutive hours! We appeal to you, and ask, was there ever worse treatment, in the worst days of the Roman inquisition, for men whose reputation had never been sullied with crime?
We therefore humbly submit, that, as the state looks only at present to our being well secured, we ought to be treated with every liberality consistent with our safe custody; and that any unnecessary harshness, or arrogant display of power, is nothing more or less than wanton cruelty.
Some of us, for instance, could wile away several hours each day in writing, an occupation which, while it would fill up the dreary vacuum of a prison life, as would the moderate use of snuff and tobacco cheer it, and soothe that mental irritation consequent upon seclusion. But that system of discipline which would paralyse the mind and debilitate the body--that would destroy intellectual as well as physical energy and vigour, cannot certainly be of human origin.
Trusting you will remove these sources of annoyance and complaint,
We beg to subscribe ourselves, Sir Your obedient servants. [Here follow the names.]
-----
Sheriff CLAUDE FARIE, Inspector PRICE, Turnkey HACKETT, they will praise your names in hell!
Chapter LXXXI.
Quem Patronem Rogaturus.
The brave people of Melbourne remembered the state prisoners, forgotten by the Ballaarat diggers, who now that the storm was over, considered themselves luckily cunning to have got off safe; and therefore could afford to 'joe' again; the red-streak near Golden-point, having put every one in the good old spirits of the good old times.
Yourself devoting to the public cause, You ask the people if they be 'there' to die: Yes, yes hurrah the thund'ring applause, Too soon, alas! you find out the lie! Cast in a gaol, at best you are thought a fool, Red hot grows your foe; your friend too cool.
An angel, however, was sent to the undefended state prisoners. Hayes and myself were the first, who since our being in trouble, did grasp the hand of a gentleman, volunteering to be our friend.
JAMES MACPHERSON GRANT, solicitor, is a Scotchman of middle-size, middle-height; and the whole makes the man, an active man of business, a shrewd lawyer, and up to all the dodges of his profession. His forehead announces that all is sound within; his benevolent countenance assures that his heart is for man or woman in trouble. He hates oppression; so say his eyes. He scorns humbug; so says his nose. His manners declare that he was born a gentleman.
I very soon gave him hints for my defence, quite in accordance with what I have been stating above, and his clerk took the whole down in short-hand. He encouraged me to be of good cheer, "You need not fear," said he, "you will soon be out, all of you."
God bless you, Mr. Grant! For the sake of you and Mr. Aspinall, the barrister, I smother now my bitterness, and pass over all that I suffered on account of so many postponements.
Timothy Hayes, when we returned broken-hearted for the FIFTH(!) time to our gaol, did we not curse the lawyers!
A wild turn of mind now launched my soul to the old beloved spot on the Eureka, and there I struck out the following anthem.
Chapter LXXXII.
Victoria's 'Southern Cross'. Tune--The 'Standard Bearer'
I.
WHEN Ballaarat unfurled the 'Southern Cross,' Of
We therefore humbly submit, that, as the state looks only at present to our being well secured, we ought to be treated with every liberality consistent with our safe custody; and that any unnecessary harshness, or arrogant display of power, is nothing more or less than wanton cruelty.
Some of us, for instance, could wile away several hours each day in writing, an occupation which, while it would fill up the dreary vacuum of a prison life, as would the moderate use of snuff and tobacco cheer it, and soothe that mental irritation consequent upon seclusion. But that system of discipline which would paralyse the mind and debilitate the body--that would destroy intellectual as well as physical energy and vigour, cannot certainly be of human origin.
Trusting you will remove these sources of annoyance and complaint,
We beg to subscribe ourselves, Sir Your obedient servants. [Here follow the names.]
-----
Sheriff CLAUDE FARIE, Inspector PRICE, Turnkey HACKETT, they will praise your names in hell!
Chapter LXXXI.
Quem Patronem Rogaturus.
The brave people of Melbourne remembered the state prisoners, forgotten by the Ballaarat diggers, who now that the storm was over, considered themselves luckily cunning to have got off safe; and therefore could afford to 'joe' again; the red-streak near Golden-point, having put every one in the good old spirits of the good old times.
Yourself devoting to the public cause, You ask the people if they be 'there' to die: Yes, yes hurrah the thund'ring applause, Too soon, alas! you find out the lie! Cast in a gaol, at best you are thought a fool, Red hot grows your foe; your friend too cool.
An angel, however, was sent to the undefended state prisoners. Hayes and myself were the first, who since our being in trouble, did grasp the hand of a gentleman, volunteering to be our friend.
JAMES MACPHERSON GRANT, solicitor, is a Scotchman of middle-size, middle-height; and the whole makes the man, an active man of business, a shrewd lawyer, and up to all the dodges of his profession. His forehead announces that all is sound within; his benevolent countenance assures that his heart is for man or woman in trouble. He hates oppression; so say his eyes. He scorns humbug; so says his nose. His manners declare that he was born a gentleman.
I very soon gave him hints for my defence, quite in accordance with what I have been stating above, and his clerk took the whole down in short-hand. He encouraged me to be of good cheer, "You need not fear," said he, "you will soon be out, all of you."
God bless you, Mr. Grant! For the sake of you and Mr. Aspinall, the barrister, I smother now my bitterness, and pass over all that I suffered on account of so many postponements.
Timothy Hayes, when we returned broken-hearted for the FIFTH(!) time to our gaol, did we not curse the lawyers!
A wild turn of mind now launched my soul to the old beloved spot on the Eureka, and there I struck out the following anthem.
Chapter LXXXII.
Victoria's 'Southern Cross'. Tune--The 'Standard Bearer'
I.
WHEN Ballaarat unfurled the 'Southern Cross,' Of