The Chronicles of Early Melbourne/Volume 2/Chapter 50
CHAPTER L.
ORANGE AND GREEN; OR, HURLING AND SHOOTING.
SYNOPSIS:— Origin of "Orange and Green" Described. —Hurling Matches. —The First Orange Riot. —A Day of Terror. —Shooting at O'Shanassy. —The First Historic Sixpences. —The Mayor on the Gridiron. —Explanation by the Mayor. —The Party Processions Act.
Irish Colour-Blindness.
ONE of the most inexplicable and amusing anomalies of history is disclosed by the manner in which two sections of the Irish people not only transfuse, but absolutely transpose, the colours of orange and green in national and partisan celebrations—the Northerns adopting the orange as their cognizance, and the Southerns the green; whereas originally, so far from there existing any traditional affinity in such a selection, the reverse was really the case. By the term "Northerns" is meant the far from insignificant faction known as Orangemen, who recognize in William the Third, the Apostle of their Fanaticism, and in the others are included the large numerical majority of the Irish race, who cherish the green flag with as much devotion as if the colour had been transmitted as a National emblem from the era of the Fer-bolgs. The facts in reality may be thus succinctly epitomised. Green was never the adopted colour of the Irish, supposing such a phrase to signify its acceptance as the tinge of the Standard under which the Irish armies fought in their own country, during, and subsequent to, the existence of its nationality. In the earliest ages of which we have any record, the Irish National escutcheon appears to have been the "Sunburst," i.e., an aureoled sun, springing evidently from the sun-worship which illumined the wanderings of the Phoenicians, accompanied them to Hibernia, and constituted a portion of the Paganism prevalent there on the arrival of St. Patrick. This emblazonry continued for ages. In the battles of Finn-Mac-Cumhal—Anglice Fingal—the Royal Ensign was known as "the Sunbeam," and so styled on account of its bright colour, and being starred with gold. Ossian, in singing one of the Fingal battles, depicts the Standard of the king, as "studded with gold above as the blue, wide shell of the nightly sky." In narrating the Irish events of the seventh century, one of the bardic historians makes special reference to the Standard of St. Columbkille, as "a variegated, streaming, floating, star-bright, consecrated satin banner," a sort of subdued "Sunburst." Some years ago there was printed, under the authority of the Irish Archaeological Society, an ancient historical tale translated by the great Celtic scholar, John O'Donovan. It is in prose and verse in two parts, the second division being devoted to an elaborate and inflated sketch of the Battle of Magh Rath, or Moira, in 637, which is declared to be "the most famous ever fought in Ireland." The writer is tediously picturesque in many of the details, and he particularizes the following as the Standards unfurled by the Hibernian Septs engaged in mortal conflict on that memorable day, viz.:— A yellow lion on green satin; dun-coloured Standards like fire; streaked satin, blue and white; yellow and red; black and red; yellow; white. Here are seven distinct kinds of military emblems in which red, white, and yellow predominate, and there is not even one of them entirely green.
But it was not only as belligerents that the Irish affected the yellow or orange colour, for it was a special favourite even in their wearing apparel, and the hue that stirs up the blood of a modern Milesian in something of the same degree as a yard of red flannel would a wild bull, was for generations the every-day companion of the people, for the Irish (male and female) were en masse an Orange community in so far as to be universally garbed in saffron (orange) raiment. The use of this colour in their garments continued to be a favoured fashion down to so late a period as the time of Henry the Eighth, when it was, like all other things Irish, rendered punishable by law, and there is a statute of that reign forbidding anyone to "use or wear any shirt, smocke, kerchor, bendol, neckerchour, mocket, or linnen cappe, coloured or dyed with saffron."
During the tenth century the designation of "a warrior of the saffron hue" was a special titular distinction conferred upon chieftains of exceptional bravery. A.D. 1014 witnessed the famous battle of Clontarf and its great Dane conqueror, Brian Boru, a victory and a hero as much talked of in Ireland as the Boyne and Sarsfield. Here the "Sunburst" appears to have been superseded, or rather to have changed its gold-or orange-ornamentations so as to become transmuted into an orb of a deep roseate hue. The country was then designated "Ireland of the Red Banners," the sanguinary tint symbolical of the bellicose disposition of the kings and chiefs who were incessantly embroiled in feuds and warfare. The principal Irish colour hoisted at Clontarf was red, though there were subordinate blue, green, and white streamers in the field. On this occasion the Danes were arrayed in green armour, and fought under the emblem of a black raven. At the Battle of the Boyne, in 1690, the allied armies of Ireland and France made their appearance, not sporting green but the reverse; for on the authority of Macaulay, "everyone, horse-soldier or foot-soldier, French or Irish, had a white badge in his hat; that colour had been chosen in compliment to the House of Bourbon"; and the flags of the Stuarts and the Bourbons waved together in defiance from the walls of Drogheda. When William, "the Prince of Orange," beheld the white favours so profusely distributed on the other side, he commanded, according to Banim, "that every soldier of the army do assume green for their colour —a green bough or the like." He also truly remarked "What a trick, what a farce is this fashion of choosing a colour to cut each other's throats under." But he was sadly mistaken when he thus ventured on the prophetic: "I suppose whatever way the battle may go, James will be recollected by his white badge, and I by my green, to the third and fourth generations of our gracious partisans." The King, however, predicted with sad certainty that bitter strife would ensue as the result of the conflict. But how astonished he must have been, were it ever possible for him to know how thoroughly, though perversely, the descendants of his "gracious partisans " both falsified and verified the conclusions of his vaticination, viz.: "William and the green for ever! Hurrah! For the Loyal and Protestant green will cause from time to time more petty warfare than, perhaps the amount of this coming Battle of the Boyne Water." The irony of history was never manifested in a more striking manner than in reference to this simple incident, for in connection with the glorious, pious and immortal memory of William, his "Loyal and Protestant green," has been trampled under foot, and the orange lilies which studded the white ground of the French National flag at the Boyne, have been exalted to its place.
Green was the colour adopted by the Society of United Irishmen in 1791, not that they copied it as being the national colour, but as Madden, their historian, writes:—"The colour of the United Irishmen was the old fancy colour of Nature, emblematic of the verdant soil of the Emerald Isle." This is an unmistakable adoption of green as a Society's colour; and it is only reasonable to assume that if it had been then the national colour of Ireland, that reason would be assigned for its selection instead of the one given, i.c., the colour of the country. The following facts are undoubted:—That golden (or orange) was the national colour of Ireland at the earliest times; that white, starred with gold, was the Hiberno-Franco floating emblem of the Boyne, at which period orange (saffron), with purple, constituted the Papal cognizance of Rome; that green formed the Boyne badge of William, the Corypheus of modern Orangeism; that it is known historically as the "holy colour" of Turkey, of the terrible Standard of Mahomet, the traditional gift of the Angel Gabriel to him. This is named Sandschaki, .e., the Standard of Green Silk, it measures twelve feet in height, and when at rest, as it nearly always is, wrapped in a quadruplicate covering of green taffeta, enjoys uninterrupted repose in a green clothed case. It is unfurled only in war, and even then as a last resource to rally the Faithful; and when its ominous wing so expands, it becomes a direful shadow, beneath which all true Mussulmans must fight to the last gasp of life. Green is likewise the chief military colour of China, where half-a-million of soldiers are enrolled as "The Army of the Green Flag." But it is beyond question that if the hopes of millions of Irishmen should ever assume a reality, and their country recover its autonomic independence, green will be imperishably associated with it as the colour of the National flag of Erin-Go-Bragh. The modern party warfare between Orange and Green is an absurd transposition, and as visionary as the phantom canonized by the Orangemen, and transformed into a shibboleth for exciting senseless strife in a community whose great aim should be the public welfare.
These few explanatory observations will form no inappropriate prelude to what follows.
The First Hurling Match.
In 1838-9 Port Phillip received the first considerable instalment of the Irish element to its population, the immigrants coming mostly from the south and south-western provinces of the Emerald Isle, when they quietly amalgamated with the general body of colonists, and formed a valuable and industrious acquisition to the community. The North of Irelanders were not long behind, bringing with them their proverbial thrift and shrewdness, and some years passed over without the occurrence of any event calculated to interrupt the good feeling universally prevalent. The St. Patrick Society was founded in 1842, but as its constitution not only ignored, but prohibited the incorporation of religious or political considerations with its system, no reasonable cause of complaint was given by its establishment. In 1843, however, a number of North Irishmen, coalescing with a sprinkling of the Scotch, affected to see in the St. Patrick Brotherhood a bogey which could only be effectually laid by the resuscitation of another, and accordingly an Orange Confederation was formed for perpetuating "The glorious pious and immortal memory of William the Third," and thus were transplanted in Victorian soil the seeds of that discord which has flourished so balefully in the Old Country. The St. Patrick Society celebrated the anniversaries of their tutelar Saint in 1843 and 1844 by a public procession, with the green flag flying before, and as the Orange Association was in the latter year gathering strength, it was determined to signalize the coming 12th July (the day of the battle of Aughrim) by a public parade in the streets. When this intention obtained publicity much apprehension was felt, as it was believed that the exhibition would reproduce one of those senseless breaches of the peace, for which the North of Ireland had obtained an ill-omened notoriety, and the public fears were far from quelled by rumours that the Orange manifestation would be resisted, and bloodshed be the probable consequence.
In this state of depressing uncertainty time went on until the morning of the 9th, when an advertisement appeared in the Herald, inviting all colonists hailing from the South of Ireland to attend in force at Batman's Hill at 10 am. of the 12th, to witness a county Hurling match for £50 between Clare and Tipperary. This was a ruse to get together a large assemblage with hurlies, and shillelaghs, the evident intention being either to frighten the Orangemen from their purpose, or to meet them
on the streets and fight it out with the processionists. The "call to arms" was so freely responded to, that by the appointed hour, according to a well-informed chronicler of the event, "groups of well-dressed, well-developed Hibernians began to gather at the rendezvous, and the collection of sticks, staves, hurlies, and every other kind of conceivable wooden weapon, would lead an impartial observer to fancy that a slice of the far-famed wood of Shillelagh had been surreptitiously imported into the young colony." Consequent upon representations previously made to the Mayor, a number of burgesses were sworn in as special constables to aid the limited police force in the preservation of the peace. There was a detachment of military stationed in the town, but they would not be called out until a collision was imminent. The special and regular constabulary were accordingly stationed on the ground near the present Spencer Street Railway Station, but they enjoyed a pleasant sinecure, simply as lookers-on, for there were no casualties to report, beyond a few barked shins, accidentally occurring, and the somewhat excusable "accident" of an occasional "drunk." The hurlers had a glorious day's fun, and footballing was (for the first time) introduced as an after piece. The Munster men were there in strong force, and splendid condition, and a bard of the period thus rhythmically describes the athletic contingents:— From the wilds of Port Phillip for many a mile
Flocked the gay loyal sons of the Emerald Isle,
As strapping fine fellows as could well be scen,
Who would shed their hearts' blood for their own beloved green.
Mononia sent forth her brave Southern sons,
With limbs full of action, and hearts full of fun;
Whilst first in the field were the gallant old Tips,
With strength in their arms and smiles on their lips.
Like the bright heaving surge of their own royal stream,
The lads from the Shannon in ecstasy came—
While famed Garryowen poured its tribute along,
And Clare's sturdy peasants soon mixed with the throng.
As broods of young eagles from dark Gaultymore,
The yeomen of Aherlow, the sons of the Suir—
The "Boys of Kilkenny," and verdant Kildare,
And Kerry's lithe woodsmen in glory were there.
The scheme, so well planned and cleverly executed, thoroughly accomplished the object intended, or the display of so large a supply of physical force ready for any emergency, operated with such moral effect on the William-worshippers, that they prudently abandoned their intention of street-walking, and not a few of them even repaired to the hill, and were excited spectators of the enlivening scenes carried on there.
The Second Hurling Match.
The old year died, and the new year was born, and about its period of middle age, Rumour, with her hundred tongues, began to babble in loud whispers of the wonderful things to which the next 12th July was to bear witness. This time there was to be a grand Orange procession with flags flying and drums beating. The Orange tune of "Croppies Lie Down" was to be played, and no hurling match or any other power under the sun should prevent it. The whisperings soon expanded into open and unreserved speaking, and elaborate preparations were made for the celebration. Now was the standard of "No Surrender" to be unfurled, and a surrender of any kind should not be tolerated. The hurling match of the previous year had acted as such a specific that a repetition of the dose was in confidential conclave agreed to. The hurlies were accordingly well looked up and put in order so as to work freely if called into requisition for another purpose than "ball-walloping." The headquarters of Orangeism was an hotel in Little Flinders Street, between Swanston and Elizabeth Streets. It was known as the Bird-in-Hand, kept by a Mr. Ewan Tolmie, and for a week before the 12th of July, nocturnal coteries were closeted there, working up a plan of the day's campaign and and concocting an imposing programme.
En passant, it is worth while pointing out an Orange incongruity, i.e., celebrating the Battle of the Boyne of the 1st July (1690) on the 12th, the birthday of the Battle of Aughrim (1691).
Two picturesque banners, manufactured to order, and some scores of orange and blue sashes were stored away in readiness for the much-expected demonstration. The excitement in town was not so intense as on the other occasion, as it was believed that a second hurling display would have the same convincing effect as before, and that the Orange procession would again be given up on the verge of the crisis. The preparations on both sides were quietly prosecuted, and the first startling intimation given was an advertisement in the Herald of the roth proclaiming that "The greatest sport under the sun!—The grandest hurling match ever witnessed (even in Old Ireland) will come off on Saturday next (12th), at twelve o'clock noon, on Batman's Hill." It was to be between all the Munster men in the province, and the players were to constitute a numerous team, for the "boys" of six counties were to be in the fielding, viz., Tipperary, Clare, and Limerick against Waterford, Cork, and Kerry. "All strapping young fellows were requested to attend, and to be sure and bring good shillelagh-hurlies, &c., &c., with them." What "the etceteras" included was left as guesswork, and was widely interpreted. The issue of this pronunciamento, which should not have been unexpected, rumbled through the Orange camp like a thunder peal, and for the next forty-eight hours an almost continuous war council was held at the Bird-in-Hand, from which not only the Press, but every sort of outsider was rigidly excluded. The Mayor (Mr. Henry Moor) was appealed to as Chief Magistrate of the town, to suppress the hurling, but he could not see his way to do so, as Melbourne was not under martial law, Batman's Hill was not a proclaimed district under any "Peace Preservation Act," hurling was not illegal, and hurlies and shillelaghs were in themselves as harmless as a child's toy-rattle. The Patriot of the 11th backed up this appeal, and fiercely denounced the advertisement "as a challenge to the Orangemen, to whom, if they should accept it, the consequences must be fearful." It warned the Mayor of the effects of his refusal to interfere, and argued that he had the power to forbid such a meeting within the limits of his jurisdiction. If every special constable that could be, was not sworn in forthwith, and police, military, and Riot Act not employed to suppress the hurling, it was predicted that the consequences may be awful, the Yarra tinged with the purple gore of the combatants, and the romantic site of Batman's Hill become a field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls!" The town read, and the town laughed at such insane maunderings; the Mayor did simply nothing, the Orangemen were left to perambulate the streets, if willing to indulge such a risky pleasuring, whilst the hurlers had everything their own way, to shout and run, jump and hurl to their hearts' content.
Saturday, the 12th, was one of the finest winter days with which this colony has ever been blessed, the sun's face dimpling over with a geniality calculated to put the most gloomy hypochondriac to rights with himself, and shedding a halo of bloom over the grassy and umbrageous hill-side that would cheer the most low-hearted invalid that was ever wheeled in a bath-chair. As for the Melbournians, with the exception of the malcontents, who growled and "kept their pecker up" with nobblers at the Bird-in-Hand, three-fourths of the inhabitants went off to the hurling. The spectators could be reckoned by thousands, and about 500 of as fine specimens of adult population as could be picked out of Ireland, threw off their coats, and set to work with a ringing Hibernian hulloo. Such a gathering of the clans, and such a real Irish turn-out have never been reproduced in Victoria. The following stanzas of a poem on the event, show how Munster was that day represented at the antipodes:—
The Munster Clans from far and near,
All thoughts of danger scorning,
With hands and hearts that knew no fear,
Came mustering fast that morning.
A warning voice had speeded forth,
Which brooked of no delay;
And East and West, and South and North
Were at their posts that day.
The sturdy sons of grassy Clare,
The Kerry men so cheery,
The boys from Garryowen were there,
And 'gallant Tipperary.'
The Waterfordians, like red deer
So active, blithe, and airy,
And Cork's untiring mountaineers
With sprigs of black shillelagh.
Oh! Often in dark Galtee's brakes,
Or at grim Slieve-na-Mann,
Or by Killarney's magic lakes,
Or Limerick's treaty-stone—
The lads now turning out for play,
Played, danced, and sang galore;
Ready alike for fun or fray,
In revel or row, to score.
On the hill prevailed a promiscuous sort of enjoyment, much appreciated and although there was no refreshment, gambling or music tents there, pocket-pistols, well-primed with strong mountain dew, were in much request, and nipped and shared with true Irish hospitality. An Orange scout was occasionally seen prowling about, but was respected as if the bearer of a flag of truce. About three o'clock the Mayor made his appearance, and was loudly cheered, a compliment which he acknowledged in a brief plausible speech. Mr. Henry Moor was an adept when he liked, in administering doses of sugared nothings. He had a pleasant, though possibly an insincere, manner by which he could placate a crowd, and to this sort of "toffying" the Melbournians were tolerably well used, and it passed with them as the real confection. On the present occasion Moor's "soft sawder" worked effectually, the more so that one of its ingredients was an assurance that there should be no Orange procession, and about 4 p.m., at his bidding, the hurling match adjourned sine die.
How the Orangemen took their disappointment was never publicly known, but they made up for it by a good use of the night. The Bird-in-Hand was kept in a state of crowing until morning. The "Lodge" expended their bottled-up wrath in eating and drinking; the yellow and blue sashes were displayed under the folds of a "pious and immortal banner," and the charter toasts of Orangeism, not remarkable for either charity or purity of phraseology, were uproariously bumperized amidst stunning salvos of "Kentish fire" behind the protection of barred doors and brick walls.
And thus did a hurling match achieve for a second time a peculiar and bloodless victory. No third hurling was ever required, for no Orange procession afterwards was either effected or even menaced. It was providential that the insane attempt to insult an enlightened, mixed community was not persisted in, as if so, though the Yarra would not run red with blood, or dead men's skulls abound, a shocking riot would have taken place, lives lost on both sides, and terrible reprisals made whenever opportunity subsequently offered. The Orangemen, in demonstrating that "the better part of valour is discretion," acted so discreetly as to adopt (at least in part) the memorable advice of Oliver Cromwell—
"To put their trust in God, and keep their powder dry."
It is very doubtful, though, whether they thought much over the first half of the injunction, yet certainly the dryness of the powder was looked after, but only until the following year, when a little of it was employed, not in a fair open fight, but in pot-shots from the upper story of an hotel, whose strong stone construction provided an ample shelter for indulging with impunity in such a very dubious species of valour.
The First Orange Riot.
In 1846 the first overt act of Orange aggression was perpetrated in the colony, and its memory has a traditionary existence, around which Time has woven a cobweb of absurd exaggeration, tinting it in colours of quasi-heroic romance, but to any such quality it cannot in fairness lay the slightest claim. It forms so discreditable an incident of early history that I would willingly excise it from these Chronicles; but as its omission might be attributed to other than the true motive, a narrative is given, plain and unvarnished, constructed from personal observation, verified by a careful perusal of the printed accounts of the regretful episode.
In 1844 and 1845 the threatened Orange street demonstration was suppressed through fear of an unpleasant collision with the Batman's Hill hurlers, who, on the processional airing of an Orange flag, would be transformed into thrashers, and all idea of a public marching completely died out of the William-ite mind. In 1846 a kind of half-way course was designed, viz., an Orange celebration in an hotel, and the display of obnoxious party bunting from the windows. The matter was to be kept as "dark as Erebus" until the proper time should arrive; and as the 12th of July was this year on a Sunday, the anniversary was to be feasted on the following day.
At the north-eastern corner of Queen and Little Bourke Streets, a Mr. Thomas Gordon rented, as the Pastoral Hotel, a recently-built house, whose substantial stone walls were not unconsidered. Here, about 1 p.m., a shoal of Orangemen commenced an early revelry, and unfurled three orange and purple banners from the upper front windows. Two of these were creditable specimens of the brush craft of a Mr. Whittaker, a scene painter of the period, and if regarded only from an æsthetic point of view, would be accepted as an indication of an improved taste on the part of those who fostered the production of such works of art. On one was emblazoned a full-sized equestrian figure of William the Third, whilst the other showed forth an impersonation of William's great general, the fearless and unflinching Schomberg, killed on the bank of "Boyne's ill-fated river." But they were soon beheld with more than jaundiced eyes. The waving of such ill-omened symbols created a flutter which rapidly swelled into a storm, on whose wings the intelligence, as unexpected as it was unprecedented, was borne rapidly through the town. It was the first time that such an act had been attempted, and by hundreds of the inhabitants it was viewed as little short of a public abomination; and the excitement instantaneously engendered could not be more intense if the streamers announced the arrival of the plague, or black sickness, in the community. People ran about half crazed, muttering threats of direst vengeance, and groups of half-a-dozen increased like a rolling snowball as they rushed along towards Queen Street, and in an incredibly short time a crowd of several hundred persons, fretting, fuming, and murmuring like an angry surf, blocked up the Pastoral corner, and the symptoms of a serious riot were every moment growing more imminent. Several of the persons congregated in the street had firearms, and it was stated that the shop of Fulton, a gunmaker further south towards Collins Street, had been rushed and ransacked of some of its "shooting irons," an allegation never satisfactorily substantiated. One huge Munster man, with an unmistakable Kerry cognomen, pranced about, flourishing a heavy wooden chair, with which he vowed he would make smithereens of the Gordonian stronghold; but his threat remained unaccomplished, for the mortar and the rubble survived. Rushing like a fury out of Little Bourke Street appeared on the scene an Amazon lady, descended from one of numerous septs of "Macs" of Northern Ireland. Whirling over her head in Red-Indian tomahawking style that article of horse gear known in stableology as a "hames," she breathed eternal vengeance upon the crew who introduced into this country the heartburnings which she had often witnessed at home. But the hames" was innocuous, for the Orangemen were far out of arm's length, and both it and the chair were inconvenient and uncertain missiles to discharge at long range. Some well-disposed persons, desirous to avert a threatening calamity, hastened to the residence of Mr. Henry Moor, J.P., the ex-Mayor, in William Street, and besought him to interpose in maintaining public order. He promptly complied by despatching a special injunction to Gordon, the hotelkeeper, to have the offensive emblems at once removed from his licensed premises, to which Gordon at first demurred, but at length consented, fearful, no doubt, of the non-renewal of his license. The Town Council was sitting when intimation reached the Mayor (Dr. J. F. Palmer) of brewing dangers, and his Worship forthwith adjourning, left with several of his colleagues en route for the supposed scene of conflict. They were joined on the way by the Rev. Father Geoghegan (Roman Catholic pastor), and other townsmen of influence, and reached the place about 3.30, when the general aspect of matters was the reverse of encouraging. The whole thoroughfare, from Bourke to Lonsdale Street, was thronged by a swaying, angry, determined multitude, ready, like so many bears, to rush the hotel, from the windows of which popped out the heads of a score of Orangemen, menacingly displaying the muzzles of firearms. The withdrawn banners were again brought up inside to the windows, and hailed with a deafening yell of execration. On its ceasing, the Mayor, from the street, in a loud, authoritative voice demanded the surrender to the authorities of the obnoxious ensigns, which was indignantly refused, whereupon his Worship and several other Magistrates now with him, as if to compel obedience to his mandate, entered the hotel, and proceeding up the stairs, were confronted on the lobby by an advanced guard of Orangemen and the landlord, who doggedly impeded any further progress. Simultaneously with this check a volley was fired from the windows into the street, at the opposite side of which Father Geoghegan and Mr. John O'Shanassy were in conversation. From the direction taken by the bullets, it was believed that the marksmen had aimed at the two individuals named, for a ball, after grazing the priest, slightly wounded in the shoulder David Hurley, a grocer, standing behind him.
At the south-west corner of Queen and Little Bourke Streets there is still an hotel, which at the time I am writing of was known as the St. John's Tavern, and kept by Mr. John Thomas Smith. At the moment of the firing there was in the bar, having a glass of beer, one Thomas O'Brien, a non-belligerent. Mrs. Smith, the landlady, fancied she saw the barrels of guns thrust from one of the Pastoral windows opposite, and calling on a waitress to do likewise, she threw herself flat on the floor outside the bar counter. They had hardly done so when a bullet whistled through the window, passed over the prostrate women, and entering O'Brien's jaw dislodged four of his teeth, ran up his tongue, and stuck near the root. The man was removed in excruciating agony to his home in Little Flinders Street, and he was so bad next day that his dying deposition was taken. Life and he had no intention of so speedily dissolving partnership, for he rallied considerably. Meanwhile, the bullet formed an abscess, which burst on the tenth day, when the ball was extracted; but instead of rolling out of his mouth it passed the other way, and he swallowed it. It remained in his system for a year, and in July, 1847, Dr. D. J. Thomas succeeded in ridding him of so unwelcome a lodger.
It was now after four o'clock, and Alderman Russell, Messrs. Moor, B. Heape, and E. Westby, J's. P., were on the ground. All the police in town were present, and the military marched up from the barracks. The Pastoral Hotel, now barricaded, was forcibly entered, and several of the inmates were arrested, including William Hinds and John James, who were alleged to have been ringleaders. The house was cleared, and the prisoners sent away to the watch-house. Mr. Moor then addressed the outside assemblage, and pledged himself that no Orange festival should take place that evening, and by his persuasions the people were induced to disperse. One hundred special constables were at once enrolled as peace-preservers, and the mounted and border police were ordered to patrol the streets during the night. The ordinary police and military were kept in readiness for action. All the hotels were directed to be shut up, and the Mayor and several magistrates remained at the police office to be at hand for any possible emergency. But the night passed over in comparative quiet, without anything occurring to disturb its tranquillity, except the occasional report of a shot from a gun or pistol. It was stated that several shots had been fired at the hotel windows, though this is open to doubt. At all events, indentations declared to be bullet marks were pointed out on a portion of the wall facing the intersection of the two streets.
The Police Court.
The morning of the 14th was ushered in with feelings of general disquietude, and the great centre of attraction was the Police Office, where a Bench of Magistrates, comprising the Mayor, Messrs. James Smith, and Benjamin Heape, was formed at 10 o'clock. The small weather-board room in the (now) Western Market Square, used as a Court, was densely crammed, and hundreds of persons were congregated outside, in eager expectation of what was to come on, the larger majority being decidedly of an Anti-Orange complexion. The proceedings were several times interrupted by explosions of hisses, which the Magistrates ineffectually endeavoured to suppress, and it was with difficulty that an open outbreak of violence was averted. Mr. William Hinds was charged with shooting at and wounding Mr. David Hurley on the preceding day; Messrs. S. Stephen (Barrister), and J. W. Thurlow (Solicitor), appearing for the prosecution; and Mr. John Duerdin (Solicitor), for the accused.
Hurley deposed that, whilst standing near the St. John's Tavern on the afternoon of the 13th, the prisoner discharged a pistol, which wounded him on the left shoulder. On going into a neighbouring house and taking off his coat, the ball dropped out. Father Geoghegan and Mr. O'Shanassy were standing near witness, who saw Hinds take deliberate aim in the direction of the priest, just before the discharge.
On cross-examination, he admitted being on friendly terms with Hinds. There were shouting and firing from the hotel, and from the street. Took no part in the row, and saw no stones thrown. The prisoner fired from the middle story, and witness saw him aim from the window at Geoghegan and O'Shanassy. Was endeavouring to get Geoghegan away from the spot, when the shot was fired; but he saw no flash.
Mr. John O'Shanassy was next examined, viz.: "I was in Queen Street yesterday evening, about half-past 3 o'clock, when passing by Messrs. Annand and Smith's corner (Collins and Queen Streets), I met Mr. John Davies, who told me he believed there would be a riot, as he saw several persons armed round the Pastoral Hotel. He requested me to accompany him to the Mayor. I did so, and we met His Worship. We then proceeded with the Mayor to the Pastoral Hotel. The Mayor entered the bar door in my company. As we approached there appeared to be great excitement all round. Several persons entered with us, and some endeavoured to keep others out. I saw Mr. Gordon open a door to the hall. We saw three persons there, one of whom was Whittaker. The Mayor demanded that certain banners should be brought down from the room. He was standing at the front door, leading from the hall to the street. Some persons entered, when Whittaker and the landlord prevented some of them from getting upstairs. I then turned round, and saw the Mayor in the street. I followed him, and on going to the centre of the road, a shot was fired close by me. My back was turned to the house, and I thought at the time that the shot proceeded from that quarter. I saw the Very Rev. Mr. Geoghegan in the middle of the street. I went to him, and requested him to leave the place. We proceeded to the St. John's Tavern, when David Hurley came up, and was endeavouring to make Mr. Geoghegan leave the place. Some pistols would not carry so far. I heard Hurley immediately say 'I am shot.' I saw a man dressed in a blue coat thrusthis arm through a window of the Pastoral Hotel, and fire a pistol into the crowd. I cannot say if it was the prisoner. I do not recollect having seen him there. I did not see any person fire into the house. I was anxious to get Mr. Geoghegan away, which engrossed a considerable share of my attention. After I left the house I heard several shots fired in quick succession from the house. My impression then was, that all the shots were fired from the house."
Several other witnesses were examined, and their testimony went to show that shots were discharged from the hotel, and that the prisoner had fired into the street.
After the case for the prosecution had closed, the Bench, in reply to a question asked, intimated that the charge would be regarded as one of assault with intent to murder, and they were not disposed to receive any evidence for the defence except an alibi. The prisoner was committed for trial, and an application for bail was, in the first instance, refused; but subsequently it was decided to accept bail in a personal recognizance of £100, and two sureties of £50 each. The bail bonds were forthcoming without much delay, and the accused was released.
Patrick Buckle, John James, and George Hunter, were next charged with being armed and riotous, and committed for trial, but enlarged on entering into personal recognizances of £40, and two sureties in £20 each.
A Day of Terror.
This Tuesday, 14th July, 1846, was about the most disquieting day ever passed in Melbourne. The morning appeared muffled-up like an invalid in flannel, with a dense fog, and this atmospherical condition was fitly companioned by the angry gloom that pervaded the numbers thronging the streets from an early hour. The adjournment of the Police Court was followed by a cloud of rumours, the latest always the most exciting, as to what was to happen before nightfall. One of the first was, that it was the fixed intention of the Orangemen to rescue their imprisoned confrères, if committed for trial without bail; and that there was, in consequence, a strong muster of them at the Bird-in-Hand Hotel, only awaiting the word to sally forth. As the afternoon advanced, the public excitement was intense, and the military, under the command of Lieutenant Wilton, with the mounted and town police, were in a state of continuous locomotion. The Superintendent (Latrobe), the Mayor, Messrs. H. Moor, J. Smith, E. Westby, Captain C. Hutton, and Dr. G. Playne, J's P., rode through the principal streets, and orders were given to clear out the Bird-in-Hand, which was effected without resistance, but not before the Riot Act was read, and a number of Orangemen (including Mr. William Kerr) were compelled go elsewhere. A party of police remained in possession of the tavern. By three o'clock The town all the principal shops were shut, and the public-houses commanded to do likewise. looked as if in a state of siege, and there could not be more of a panic if an invading army had disembarked at Sandridge, and was marching to sack and burn Melbourne.
The Orange citadel was scarcely evacuated, when alarming intelligence was received from another quarter, viz., that a large force of armed men were drawn up in Lonsdale Street, and thither the Superintendent, magistrates, military, and police directed their course. Between Lonsdale Street and the (now old) cemetery was then a houseless, grassy open space, and on this parade-ground was marshalled in a very irregular order of battle, some three or four hundred men, armed with guns, pistols, sticks, bludgeons, and other weapons. The leader was an excitable tailor-publican (long since passed from amongst us), equipped with a double-barrelled gun and shot pouch. He was fussily engaged in seeing that his men were in order; whilst officiating as a sergeant-major was another individual (also no more), who, though having only one full-length leg to stand upon, hopped about through the ranks with the agility of a goat on the side of a mountain, and brandishing a wicked-looking crutch, as if it were a battle-axe hungering for something to cleave. When the Superintendent and his numerous retinue had appeared within a hundred yards of the would be insurgents, a loud-voiced spokesman known as "Long Mooney" advanced, and vociferated "That the people had assembled there solely in self-defence, and to protect themselves from the violence of the Orangemen." A general halt was immediately ordered, and a short parley ensued. The Mayor assured them that no Orange violence need be apprehended, and after the Riot Act had been read, he requested them in the Queen's name, as good and loyal subjects, to disperse. The reaction was instantaneous, for the answer returned consisted of "Three cheers for the Queen; three more for the Superintendent; three for the Mayor;" and the dispersion at once commenced. The military, however, did not return to barracks, but took up their quarters at the Royal Exchange Hotel, in Collins Street, lest their services should be required; and the magistrates remained until near midnight at the police office. During the afternoon Constable Allcock (an Orangeman) swore informations against Mr. Michael M'Namara and three others, for being illegally armed. They were arrested, and lodged for safe custody in the goal, bail being refused. Next morning they were bound over in recognizances to appear for trial when called on.
Shooting at O'Shanassy.
The 16th July was also a notable day at the Police Court, for one Robert Cuthbert
(arrested the evening before) was accused with having, by his own admission, discharged a loaded pistol at Mr. John O'Shanassy. Evidence was given that the prisoner was heard to boast in the shop of Mr. Thomas Hamilton, an Orange saddler, in Collins Street, that he had in the Pastoral row fired off a loaded pistol at O'Shanassy; "that O'Shanassy was not a bad mark to aim at, and if the bullet had caught him it would have settled him." He was held to bail to answer any charge that the Crown Prosecutor might prefer against him. The First Historic Sixpences.
When Mr. Henry Cuthbert retired from the Berry Administration in 1878, in the redistribution of his salary amongst the remaining members of the Cabinet, there remained an indivisible coin, which was credited to the public account, and was consequently known as the "Historic Sixpence"; but I trust to be able to show that many years before, there existed a more legitimate claimant to the honour of such a designation. On the 16th July, 1846, John O'Shanassy appeared at the Melbourne Police Court to answer a summons taken out by John James, a painter, for an assault committed on the 13th. From the evidence of the complainant it appeared that on the afternoon of the riot he was on his way to the Orange demonstration, having in his possession a loaded pistol, and sporting a "loud" orange-coloured handkerchief in his hand. The defendant met him in Queen Street, and broke the peace by hitting James on the head and knocking off his cap. The charge was admitted, and the assault thus justified. The defendant was returning from the Pastoral Hotel, whither he had gone with the Mayor, to assist in the preservation of the public peace. A man had been shot there and carried away by some persons, and accompanied by the defendant. In passing the Brian Boru Hotel, the complainant was met, and the defendant addressing him said, "Are you going to shoot more of the people?" James made an insulting reply, and the assault was committed under circumstances of considerable excitement and provocation. The Bench deliberated for a few moments, and its Chairman (the Mayor) announced the decision to be that the complainant did not come into Court with clean hands, as he was proceeding with a deadly weapon, when the assault was committed, to a place where deadly outrages were being perpetrated. He was also exhibiting a handkerchief of colour considered to be a distinctive party badge; and it would not be unjustifiable to even arrest any person under such circumstances. The assault was not, however, justifiable, and the defendant would be fined sixpence with 5s. 4d. costs. This "bender" is therefore clearly entitled to take precedence of the other, and the Cuthbert coin must give way to the O.S. one.
Irritation and counter-irritation continued for some time, and the amicable relations that should prevail amongst the people were seriously disturbed. Some of the police behaved in a very unbecoming manner and two constables, named Cantlon and Heffernan, who were Orangemen and fraternized with their "brethren" both at the Pastoral and Bird-in-Hand on the first and second day of the disturbance, were reported to the Mayor, who warned them against being members of any secret partisan body, and directed their names to be placed at the bottom of the list for promotion. As to the police office committals nothing further came of them, for the Crown Prosecutor filed no bills of indictment on either side. As convictions would, through the weakness of evidence, and the mixed state of the jury panel be difficult, if not impossible of obtainment, a wise, and, in the end, a beneficial discretion was exercised. Unsparing censure was vented by both parties upon the gentleman (Mr. James Croke) who held in his hands the important functions of a Grand Jury. "Old Croke," as he was universally called, was a Roman Catholic Corkonian, and uncle of the celebrated Irish Archbishop of that name; and though brusque always, and blundering sometimes, was in the main a thoroughly conscientious, and well-intentioned official.
The Mayor on the Gridiron.
Dr. Palmer (the Mayor) had hard times of it, for he got roasted in a manner that drove him to the verge of distraction. As a matter of course, the Melbourne newspapers sided with both sides of the row, some viewing the discreditable proceedings through yellow, and others through green. spectacles. The Argus and the Gazette pitched into Palmer mercilessly. No doubt he deserved much of what he got, but his assailants hit him high and low, up and down, with a cowardly truculence disgusting to lovers of fair play. Metaphorically, he was like an Indian captive tied to a stake and tortured, by two yelping savages. The Mayor was not gifted with the patience of a Stoic, and his sufferings were poignant. He did not stoop to a retaliatory typographical warfare, but flew for comfort to the Town Council. As evidencing his condition, I transcribe an extract from a speech of his at a Corporation meeting:—"My conduct has been held up to public execration, and no circumstance of palliation has been found. No extenuating suggestion offered; but in order to accomplish my disgrace, truth, moderation, charity, law, and equity have been equally disregarded!"
Dr. Palmer's conduct throughout this lamentable occasion was a chain of incongruous links, which only a waste of misapplied skill could forge. He was vacillating and intermeddling—infirm in judgment, and fallible in temper, inclining one day towards one party, the next turning the balance with the other, and the day after like a man addled, staggering through a room, bobbing towards both sides, and not staying at either. He showed no firmness, no deliberation, no correct perception of the situation from any point of view. He was the creature of rumour, and his self-sufficiency prevented his seeking or accepting advice from cooler and steadier heads. This led him into positions from which a dignified retreat was impossible; and amongst the indiscretions he committed was one day commanding the whole police force to appear in his august presence, and there put them through a catechism, of county, town, and parish of the Mother-country where each was born and reared, what religion he professed, and with what Societies, open or secret, he was connected with. His vagaries were such that he fell foul of everyone, and everyone's tongue was against him.
The Mayot and the Superintendent.
The Superintendent having requested the Mayor, as Chief Magistrate of the town, to furnish the Governor with a Report upon the ostensible causes of the public disturbances which have recently taken place in Melbourne," Dr. Palmer, in his reply, further embroiled himself. From this document it would appear that leave had been applied for and obtained from the Licensing Bench for Gordon, the landlord, to keep his Pastoral Hotel open after 12 o'clock on the night of the 13th July for the purpose of entertaining a select party at dinner." This turned out to be "The Orange Anniversary Dinner," as per card of invitation sent to the Mayor, and for which three hundred cards had been issued. The details of the rioting were given not differing materially from the facts before stated, and the writer declared "that it did not appear that any persons holding influence or position in society have been concerned in these disturbances." The statement further averred that a deep and rancorous hostility prevailed among the different sections of the Irish populace, and suggested the adoption of more stringent legal measures for the preservation of the peace. According to the writer "such demonstrations should be regarded as the indicia of mutual fear and distrust, rather than of premeditated outrage." He justified the course taken by the local authorities, and mentioned that the police, with one exception, were Irish, and would not feel disposed to act if recourse were had to the extreme step of disarming the rioters. He referred to the processions of the St. Patrick Society, which were allowed, and concluded by suggesting the "expediency of a legislative enactment for the prohibition of party symbols and public processions of antagonistic political societies." The correspondence connected with this phase of the question was submitted pro forma to the Town Council, and provoked an acrimonious debate, in the course of which Councillor O'Shanassy inflicted a severe castigation upon the Mayor for the manner in which he had maligned the St. Patrick Society, which was in no sense a religious or political institution, or antagonistic to any other Confederation, but a national body analogous to the Societies of St. Andrew and St. George, with one of which the Mayor was a strong sympathizer, and a member of the other. A special meeting of the St. Patrick Society was also held, at which the Mayor's manifesto was severely handled, and its inconsistencies and exaggerations tellingly exposed in a statement prepared by Mr. E. Finn (the Honorary Secretary), which was transmitted to Sir George Gipps, the then Governor of New South Wales.
Dr. Palmer's pronunciamento, like everything else he penned, was clever and incisive, but it was little more than a highly-spiced elaboration of sensationalism, reared upon erroneous assumptions, misconception, and mis-information. Its allegations on the general state of the Irish section of the community, the police, and the St. Patrick Society, were absurd and unwarrantable presumptions, and to the crushing rebutting case established, Palmer could make no reply. One point told effectually against him—viz., that he had been himself instrumental in procuring the last preceding public procession of the St. Patrick Society, as Chairman of the Hospital Committee, which, in March of the same year, invited the Society to assist at the foundation laying of the hospital. Dr. Palmer did not soon forget the ruffling he received during the eventful year of his Mayoralty, and in a few months he abandoned the Town Council altogether.
The Party Processions Act.
As a consequence of the Orange freak of the 13th July, which was simply a semi-drunken ambuscade from which to attempt assassination in a crisis of intense party irritation, Mr. J. H. Plunket, the New South Wales Attorney-General, introduced into the Legislature a Bill to prevent Party Processions, &c. In the original draft of this measure the Masonic and Oddfellow Fraternities were specially exempted, and against this favouritism the Melbourne St. Patrick Society remonstrated—and so effectively that the exceptional proviso was omitted, and the Bill passed without it. The Party Processions Act remained for years on the Statute Book, and its essence is still preserved in our code under that process of legal cooking known as consolidation. It was never more than a dead letter-dead as the defunct hobgoblin it was meant to exorcise. It was never required, for from the evil of the abortive celebration sprang one good result-viz., that no other July anniversary was bug-beared by an Orange procession. Whatever annual devotions the William-ites thought proper to offer before the shrine of their idol, were gone through up to the period of the close of these Chronicles, with unbannered windows, undemonstratively, and with outward quietness. The serpent of bigoted infatuations reserved its sibilations to be mingled with the orgies of the banquet-room, and not even the ghost of Orangeism ever again publicly "walked" the streets of Melbourne.
There is now (1884) before the Legislative Assembly a motion for the second reading of a Bill to repeal the Act just referred to; and, as considerable misapprehension of the origin and scope of the original Bill was disclosed during a recent debate, a few remarks in elucidation may not be out of place here. Though not having the good fortune or otherwise to be a "limb of the law," I may, without undue presumption, venture even as a layman to express an opinion upon the subject, for I was in Melbourne in 1846, thoroughly cognizant of the circumstances which prompted the new legislation, and was vehemently opposed to it. Furthermore, from information subsequently communicated, I am warranted now in declaring that it was in consequence of a written protest prepared by me and transmitted to him, that Mr. Attorney-General Plunket cancelled the clause of exemption in favour of Masons and Oddfellows. The Party Processions Act was, as previously indicated, the outcome of the 1846 Orange row. Some such enactment was suggested in the Report on the disturbances, furnished by the then Mayor of Melbourne, Dr. Palmer. It applied to all associated bodies whose celebrations fairly came within the phraseology in which its provisions were embodied. As one of its consequences, the St. Patrick processions were discontinued from 1846 until 1850, the era of Separation, when they were resumed in the midst of the general rejoicings surrounding the event. If they have at intervals been since continued, it is not because the law does not apply to them, but because their legality has not been questioned. The Friendly Societies Act legalizes a system of protection for the working of pecuniary benefits of various kinds, but has nothing whatever to do with any sentimental, sectarian, or national element that may be in existence. Furthermore, should a Society transgress the rules of propriety in any manner, the Chief Secretary (I write from memory, and have not the Act to refer to) may, if I mistake not, direct the Registrar to strike it off the rolls, or, in other words, cancel the registration.
As to the Act which the Grand Master of Orangeism is striving to repeal, it has never done either good or harm, and though at one time most decidedly against its passing, I am now of opinion that, everything considered, it would be a great legislative mistake to meddle with it.