John Bull, rather of a doggish nature,
will growl to himself if left alone picking his bone: the passport system
is a bone that he will not pick; no, no ways and under no shape whatever -
I know it by experience.
2. A memorial to his Excellency for the release of the three prisoners
under sentence for burning the Eureka Hotel, is, through Humffray,
in course of signature. It is our earnest desire that his Excellency
may show mercy; though it may appear, that he would do thus an act of justice
to the diggers, considering how rightly they guessed the Bentley affair.
3. The whole pack, commissioners, troopers and traps on the Ballaarat Camp,
with the exception of magistrate Hackett, are detested by the diggers:
there will be eternal discontent as long as Rede and fraternity are
lodging over that way. The whole Camp had better be changed at once,
and entrusted to good experienced hands and honest men. Perhaps Sir Charles
may turn into a Diogenes in vain - 'nil desperandum.' There are now and then
honest men to be found even in this colony.
Good reader, listen to me: I shall tell you no lie: do not lose sight
of the above letter: I intend to give the end in the next chapter:
meanwhile, fill the pipe, let's have a 'blow' together.
Chapter XXXIII.
Mistero! S'Apre Mendacia, Violente
Strada Maestra In Citta E Campagna:
La Verita, Se Docile, Quadagna
A Passo Lo Stradello Lentamente.
(Translated in the text of my first chapter.)
On Thursday morning, November 30th, at sunrise, I was at my work, as usual.
I assert, as an eye-witness, that most of the hands on the Eureka came
to their work, and worked as usual.
Whilst having a 'blow,' we would talk over again about the monster meeting
of yesterday, thus spinning a yarn in the usual colonial style.
The general impression was, that as soon as government knew in Melbourne
the real state of the excited feelings of the diggers, the licence-hunt
would be put a stop to.
Towards ten o'clock was my hour for a working-man's breakfast.
I used to retire to my tent from the heat of the mid-day, and on that same
Thursday I set about, at once, to end my letter to Mr. Archer,
because I was anxious to forward it immediately to Melbourne.
Good reader, I copy now, word for word, the scrawl then penned,
in great haste and excitement.
Thursday, November 30th, 1854.
Just on my preparing to go and post this letter, we are worried by the usual
Irish cry, to run to Gravel-pits. The traps are out for licences,
and playing hell with the diggers. If that be the case, I am not inclined
to give half-a-crown for the whole fixtures at the Camp.
I must go and see 'what's up.
Always your affectionate,
(Signed) CARBONI RAFFAELLO.
(To) W. H. ARCHER, Esq., Acting Registrar-General, Melbourne.
- - -
Why this identical letter of mine - now in the hands of James Macpherson Grant,
M.L.C., Solicitor, Collins-street, where it will remain till Christmas
for inspection, to be then returned to the owner - was not produced
at my STATE TRIAL, was, and is still, a MYSTERY to me!
Let's run to Bakery-hill.
Chapter XXXIV.
Quos Vult Perdere Deus Dementat.
What's up? a licence hunt; old game. What's to be done? Peter Lalor was
on the stump, his rifle in his hand, calling on volunteers to 'fall in'
into ranks as fast as they rushed to Bakery-hill, from all quarters,
with arms in their hands, just fetched from their tents. Alfred,
George Black's brother, was taking down in a book the names of divisions
in course of formation, and of their captains.
I went up to Lalor, and the moment he saw me, he took me by the hand saying,
"I want you, Signore: tell these gentlemen, (pointing to old acquaintances
of ours, who were foreigners) that, if they cannot provide themselves
with fire-arms, let each of them procure a piece of steel, five or six inches
long, attached to a pole, and that will pierce the tyrants' hearts."
Peter of course spoke thus in his friendly way as usual towards me.
He was in earnest though. The few words of French he knows, he can pronounce
them tolerably well, but Peter is no scholar in modern languages; therefore
he then appointed me his aide-de-camp, or better to say his interpreter,
and now I am proud to be his historian.
Very soon after this, all the diggers 'fell in' in file of two-a-breast,
and marched to the Eureka.
Captain Ross of Toronto, was our standard-bearer. He hoisted down the
Southern Cross from the flag-staff and headed the march.
Patrick Curtain, the chosen captain of the pikemen, gave me his iron pike,
and took my sword to head his division; I 'fell in' with John Manning who also
had a pike, and all of us marched in order to the Eureka.
I assert as an eye-witness, that we were within one thousand in the rank
with all sort of arms, down to the pick and shovel.
We turned by the Catholic church, and went across the gully. Of this I have
perfect recollection: when the 'Southern Cross' reached the road leading to
the Eureka on the opposite hill, the file of two-a-breast crossing the gully,
extended backwards up to the hill where the Catholic church stands.
I took notice of the circumstance at the time.
We reached the hill where was my tent. How little did we know that some
of the best among us had reached the place of their grave! Lalor gave
the proper orders to defend ourselves among the holes in case the hunt
should be attempted in our quarters.
