By Vance Palmer.
THE story of Eureka is well known. It is one of the few episodes of our past that have had the spotlight thrown on them, one of the few incidents of our history that have aroused our interest and curiosity.
In general we know less of our past than any people in the world. Perhaps it is the dulness of the way it has been presented to us; perhaps our usual national habit of looking everywhere for mental stimulus except to the particular world around us. At anyrate we are more familiar with other periods and other countries than with the special historical background out of which we have come.
But the story of Eureka has left a mark on our minds. It has obvious drama in it, even a touch of Hollywood. Redcoats, desperate men fighting behind a stockade, a rebel leader with a price upon his head. And to supply the proper school-book moral, the rebel leader being ultimately pardoned, raised to a high position in the State, presiding in bewigged splendor over parliament, and dying in the odor of sanctity.
What better example of liberal institutions and the way they work—Lalor as Speaker of the Victorian Parliament, Jan Smuts, the Boer guerilla chief, as a leader of the Empire!
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UNFORTUNATELY the significance of Eureka has been largely lost in the personal story of Lalor, and the general air of romanticism that has come to surround it. Academic historians have been quick to seize on its picturesque points and to minimise its real importance.
To Professor Scott it was chiefly a rebellion of foreigners (a word that inferentially includes the Irish) and had no great effect on our social development. Even the self-government that was secured a few years afterwards had nothing to do with it. That was a generous gift from Downing Street!
It is a fad of academic historians to assume that popular movements have no influence on the course of history, which is, of course, shaped by wise and benevolent statesmen, sitting in council and making laws according to their inner light.
And so Eureka has become just a romantic incident to color the drab school books. But what meaning did it really have in our history? What was its cause? What was its general effect?
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THE question won't be entirely answered by any statements of the men who gathered on that little hill at the base of the Melbourne road, 83 years ago, and fortified their camp with a rough stockade. They had certain definite things to fight for; but it is certain that the impulses that moved them were deeper than their demands.
In the nature of things they were mixed lot.
Apart from Lalor, there was certainly a strong foreign element in their leadership. Vera and Thonen were Germans; Ross, a Canadian-American; Raffaelo Carboni (who has left a brilliant and lively account of the episode) an Italian. And there was probably a fair sprinkling of French and Scandinavians.
These men were more familiar with the idea of armed rebellion than the others, for they had come from a Europe torn with revolution and counter-revolution. But it would be a mistake to assume that the English, Scotch and Irish were merely led into action by a lot of foreign hotheads. They had, after all, come from countries that had known the ferment of Chartism and the privations of famine. And the Victoria they found when they arrived here conflicted badly with the visions of a new Utopia they brought with them.
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THE particular grievances the miners complained of were only part of a general oppression in the air.
It was bad enough for men to have to pay a heavy licence-fee for digging gold when the gold was nearly exhausted; it was rubbing salt into the sore place when officious "joeys" hunted them down and chained them to logs if they had not renewed their licences at the proper time.
Government on the goldfields was a form of martial law. The police took their cues from those in authority; and authority had never accepted the idea of Australia being a free community, with the equal rights for all men. Far from it; the traditions of the penal settlement were strong.
All over the country, stations were being run by pastoralists in a feudal way, with ticket-of-leave men and convicts as their chief supplies of labor. The general conception of Australia's future (on the part of those who had money and power) was that it should be governed by a rich landowning and official class with plenty of troops and police to keep the servile mass in order.
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AND this image of a class-state had been thoroughly stamped on the country by a couple of generations of convictism. The pastoralist was supreme in his dominion. He exercised an arbitrary power in his own territory; he expected the officials and the police to play a similar role in the towns and on the goldfields.
All the records of the time show that the squatters were definitely distrustful of the crowds of free immigrants that were being attracted by the goldfields; they would have preferred their future labor supplies to continue coming to the country in chains.
The insolent troopers who hunted the miners like dingoes through the gullies of Ballarat would not have been so ruthless without the consciousness of a strong supporting power behind them.
It was this power that the rising at Eureka broke. I think it is no exaggeration to say that it liberated men's minds all over the country, creating a new spirit of independence, clearing the air of feudal tyrannies.
The masses in the towns were quick in their response. One of the rebels has said:—
"I could walk down Bourke Street with a price on my head, and no one would give me away."
And the "Not Guilty" verdict of the jury on the men charged with sedition was directed less by considerations of law than of justice and awakened sympathy.
This verdict, and the feeling aroused all over the country, is evidence that Eureka ended not in defeat for the men, but in victory. Something had been established when they took up their stand on Bakery Hill; it was not destroyed when they were overwhelmed in their stockade.
If it had not been for that assertion of will among the miners. Australia might have developed in the way the landowners desired, remaining for many years, like Mexico, under the cloud of a crude feudalism, with labor conditions not very far removed from the peonage.
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EUREKA was a signal that the new masses who were populating the country meant to say goodbye to all that. It created a tradition that was to prove powerful later on.
A generation ago you could find all over the country—in shearing sheds, mining camps, political meetings—lively old men who claimed to have fought at Eureka. Probably there were a good many more of them than had taken the oath on Bakery Hill or gathered with their pikes behind the stockade. But their very romancings had an effect, carrying on the spirit of struggle and achievement. There is a moving force in tradition—even in myth.
Workers' Weekly (Sydney, NSW : 1923 - 1939), Tuesday 16 November 1937, page 2