Reminiscences of Eureka Stockade

Monty Miller was an extraordinary historic figure, at the 
forefront of many struggles over a long time span. He fought and 
was wounded in the Eureka Stockade in 1854. At the age of 85 he 
was sentenced to six months hard labour for his leadership in the 
anti-conscription struggles in 1917. In that same year he 
welcomed and supported the October Russian Revolution. The 
following are extracts from his own story, written 60 years after 
the event.*

Among the shoal of adventurers who swarmed to the Australian 
eldorados, Ballarat had its full share. One of these — Bentley, 
the most notorious scoundrel that ever landed on Australian soil 
— became the factor that precipitated the fatal 3rd of December, 
which so sadly marked the close of 1854.

Bentley was from the Californian goldfields, and had a most evil 
notoriety among the men who hailed from there. He had been a grog 
and gambling saloon keeper in that country, and started in the 
same line on the Eureka Lead. He had the evil repute of causing 
the death of various men in gambling quarrels in California, with 
revolver or bowie-knife. His den was known as the Eureka Hotel.

One night a party of diggers was returning late from White Flat 
to their tents, past Bentley's, and tried to get a drink. Being 
late, the place was closed. They gave up the idea of obtaining 
the desired drink, and proceeded homeward. Amongst the party were 
two Scotchmen, brothers, George and Hughie Scobie. The younger 
brother insisted on knocking Bentley up, and stoutly resisted 
every attempt of his mates to get him away.

Tired of futile attempts, his brother urged that they leave him 
'til he tired of his endeavours to get the place opened. He was 
left to follow at his leisure. Alone, he increased his clamour, 
and Bentley, rushing out with a spade, clove the skull of the 
unfortunate young Scot from crown to eye-brows, then, dragging 
the body of his victim some hundred yards or so from the hotel, 
he returned to his bed with no more compunction than if he had 
kicked a howling dog into silence.

At early morning, a digger, passing to his work, discovered the 
body of the murdered man, and gave the alarm. Bentley was 
arrested and brought to trial, with his paramour, who gave 
conclusive evidence of Bentley's guilt. Yet they were acquitted 
by the influence of the Resident R.M. at Ballarat, one Downes, 
who was a great crony of Bentley's and was believed to be a 
partner in the drink and gambling business.

Despite the evidence

Bentley's acquittal raised a furore of indignation and a mass 
meeting was held, and speeches expressing fierce resentment 
against the miscarriage of justice were made. Among the speakers 
was George Scobie, who declared that the spirit of his murdered 
brother was hovering over the meeting, imploring vengeance on his 
foul murderer.

This so excited the meeting that cries of "Let us lynch him!" 
were raised, and the whole crowd rushed off to Bentley's, but he, 
seeing their approach, rushed to the stable and escaped on a fine 
horse he kept, and gave himself up to the police at the Camp. The 
enraged crowd broke every window, and uttered cries of "Set the 
place afire!" No sooner said than done, and in less time than it 
can be recorded Bentley's infamous den was a thing among the 
iniquities of the past.

The Government arrested three diggers who were suspected of being 
ringleaders in the hotel burning. One of these was at Creswick 
Creek, 12 miles from Ballarat, at the time of the fire; one at 
Mopoke Gully, a mile from the fire; and the other admitted being 
present but denied any complicity in burning the place.

Despite all evidence the men were sentenced to various terms of 
imprisonment.

Another mass meeting was held, from which delegates went to 
Melbourne to secure the release of the men imprisoned. Governor 
Hotham, who had been at the helm of affairs since the withdrawal 
of Latrobe, did not like the manner of the delegates, who were 
not subservient enough to suit his naval martinet views and the 
delegates returned.

This incident added fuel to the already inflamed emotions of the 
miners, and the report of this deputation resulted in a mass 
meeting on November 28 held at Bakery Hill, at which it was 
resolved that all further allegiance to the Government was 
useless as a means of getting justice.

Licences burnt

The Australian Flag, simply a light blue, with the five symbol 
stars of the Southern Cross — no corner Union Jack on it — was 
floated; and Peter Lalor beneath, it called on the meeting to 
refuse to show licences and requested those who held them to 
destroy them. At once, licences were cremated wholesale; and it 
was resolved that if any digger were arrested on account of not 
having a licence all would unite for his rescue.

The answer of the authorities was a digger hunt the next day. The 
diggers resisted the police and stoned them. The military were 
called out, and Colonel Robert Rede read the Riot Act. The 
diggers were dispersed for the time and the police took a few 
unlicensed diggers.

In the afternoon, a last meeting was held, at the same old Bakery 
Hill. Again the diggers' flag flew over the greatest meeting ever 
held; and Lalor, gun in hand, swore in all who agreed to fight.

He said: "We have tried all that is known as constitutional 
means, we have sent deputation and deputation to the Government; 
and all that they have done is to increase the severity and 
amount of our taxation; and the drastic and brutal mode of 
collecting the tax. Nothing more can be done. There is only one 
course open to us. That is to fight, and defend our rights and 
liberties as men."

This was approved of; and he called upon everybody who was 
willing to join a rebel band of that nature to kneel down, and a 
great many who never took any part in what happened afterwards 
just for the sake of appearance and conformity kneeled down.

Lalor said: "Hold up your right hand and repeat after me the oath 
I shall put to you: 'We swear by all we hold true and sacred to 
fight in defence of our life and liberty to the point of death, 
if need be; and we further swear to be true to each other, 
whatever consequences may ensue.'"

Right! I swore that. Others swore it, and stuck to it.

Barricade built

Amongst the diggers on that November day when our resolution was 
taken was a very tall man with a straw-coloured beard and 
moustache and reddish hair, named Vem, Fred Vem. He was known as 
Long Fred and was looked upon as leader of the continental 
section of the miners who were in revolt; and he had been in the 
Prussian army and claimed to have a good knowledge of military 
tactics, and also of fortifications.

Vem recommended that the diggers should at once build a 
stronghold; what he called a stockade. He was determined to do 
it; and, on that very afternoon, of the 27th November, carts were 
commandeered, and all the horses and drays, carting in timber on 
the diggings. They were utilised for going out into the bush and 
carting in what we called small piles, posts twelve feet [4 
metres] long. These were split down, made into two, the round 
sides put inwards, and the flat, rough sides, outwards in a 
trench dug about four feet deep. That left a barricade about 
eight feet in height as the front wall of the stockade.

As nearly as memory serves me, the barricade was about one 
hundred feet in length; and down each side of the stockade there 
was a continuity of that stout rampart for about fifty feet, then 
the smaller timbers the scantlings which were left, were put into 
the trench and battens nailed inside it to unite them together. 
Out of the edge of one of these piles a notch was out, and on the 
corresponding joining side of the next post. These formed the 
loopholes, about four feet apart, from which the entrenched 
miners were to fire on any attacks made upon them.

Next day saw that rude stockade well under construction. On the 
30th, that is the last day of November, it was what was called 
finished, but the back was the weak point of defence. The back 
part of the stockade consisted of carts, which had been used to 
bring in timber of construction thrown down, on their side; one 
wheel down, and the other up. The shafts were lashed together, 
and nailed on to the shafts were shorter slabs, like a barricade 
fence.

There were two parties within the stockade — the Scottish party 
and the Irish party, and, I am sorry to say, there was a 
treasonable party. Men of that treasonable party, in spite of our 
watchword, would go out, and carry news up to the camp of the 
police of our forces, how many men were in the stockade, how they 
were armed, and that sort of thing. Constant bulletins were going 
from the seat of the diggers war front to the military and police 
forces up at the camp.

For Right and Liberty

The formula of the oath was as follows: "We swear by the Southern 
Cross to stand true to each other, and fight to defend our rights 
and liberties. Amen."

The construction of the Stockade was proceeded with, and pushed 
on with such vigour that, on Saturday morning, it was completed; 
and 800 armed men occupied it.

Paddy Gettins, the pike-smith, with another son of Vulcan, were 
all the time busy making pikes, after the Irish models of 
Ireland's '08 and '48 formidable weapons, with a hook flattened 
and sharpened to a keen edge, to cut the bridles of the mounted 
police.

It is obvious that a structure thrown together in less than four 
days was not in any sense a stronghold. The front facing to the 
west, where were the police and military camps, had a semblance 
of strength, and the sides were weaker, while the back was in 
part made of carts turned on one side, the shafts lashed together 
and slabs nailed on. This was the weakest point of the line of 
defence.

On Saturday afternoon there were fewer than 200 men in the 
Stockade, the majority went off to see their claims; and to have 
a stroll on the main roads, while most of the younger men went to 
the dance rooms. Treachery was at work. So much for the weak 
state of the diggers' garrison.

Military attack

The military encampment consisted of part regiments — the 
Fortieth under the command of Captain Wise, and the Twelfth under 
Captain Thomas. They were quick to take advantage of the 
situation, and moved to the attack at between 2 and 3 am. Sunday 
morning, December 3, 1854. It was in the darkness before dawn 
that Harry de Longville, one of the sentries on duty, heard the 
tramp of the storming party, and fired the shot that alarmed the 
diggers in their death trap. Volleys were quickly fired from both 
sides; and Lalor, who was in a conspicuous place cheering on his 
men, received a musket ball which shattered his left shoulder and 
put him out of the fight.

The attacking force were getting the worst of the volley firing, 
and Captain Wise fell mortally wounded, dying the next day. The 
palisades of the Stockade deadened the shots of the invading foe, 
while they were fully exposed to the first of the defenders — 
and a bugle call rang out, signifying a bayonet charge.

This was made at the weakest part of the enclosure.

A breach was soon made, and military and police poured into the 
diggers' citadel. Then came the deadly hand-to-hand fighting in 
which the 8 foot pike was superior to the five-foot, musket and 
bayonet. But the carbines and revolvers of the police did fatal 
work; whilst the ammunition of the rebels was running low at this 
stage of the fight.

The fight in the stockade was silent and deadly, broken only by 
the heavy fall of a fatally wounded digger or soldier.

During the struggle I became engaged in a hand-to-hand contest 
with a big muscular soldier of the 40th Regiment. It was evident 
to me that he would win in the end. He was a perfect master of 
his weapon, the bayonet in thrust and parry, and it was only the 
superior advantage of the length of my pike that prevented me 
from being speedily wounded to death.

I felt I was the weaker in the encounter and on the impulse of 
instinct rather than reason did perhaps the most foolish thing in 
the circumstances. I planted the hook of my pike against the 
muzzle of the soldier's musket, and running it down the barrel 
dropped my pike and caught hold of the stock and the barrel below 
and above the grasp of my adversary.

Wounded

His superior strength soon told, and presently he brought the 
brass bound stock of the musket crashing down on my temple, 
rendering me unconscious for a minute or two. As soon as I 
regained consciousness I found myself on my hands and knees with 
my head against the palisading of the stockade to which I must 
have crawled unknowingly.

On looking round I saw that everybody was trying to escape from 
the stockade. I had no sooner started for the rear of the 
enclosure than I felt a blow on my left leg, which brought me 
sprawling to the ground. I had been hit by a one-ounce [28-gram] 
musket ball, and was now unable to rise from the ground.

At this juncture M'lver, a mounted constable, rode up to me, and 
leaning over the neck of his horse made a lunge at me with his 
sabre. I caught the weapon with my left hand, which was pierced 
right through leaving scars which remain to the present day.

At this juncture M'Iver pulled back his sabre, severing my thumb 
and nearly cutting off the forefinger. He then started to charge 
at me a second time, when an escaping digger rushing past with a 
pike made a swoop at him, struck him on the back of the neck and 
toppled him out of the saddle.

I managed to struggle to my feet and make my way through the 
breach which the soldiers had made in the barricade at the rear. 
But our retreat was cut off by' a line of sentries outside the 
enclosure, and I was taken prisoner by one of them, imploring him 
not to give me up to the police, who were killing all the diggers 
they could find in the stockade.

My captor told me that he would not give me up to anyone but one 
of his military superiors. Meanwhile, the diggers from the 
neighbouring camps, attracted by the noise of firearms and the 
struggle within the stockade, had crowded up to see what was 
happening.

Several times the soldiers were ordered to keep back the crowd, 
but the constant stream of new arrivals kept pushing the diggers 
in front further forward. I seized my opportunity and pushed into 
the crowd, and, as soon as it was seen that I was an escaping and 
wounded prisoner, I was helped into the middle of the crowd, and 
so escaped.

I then made my way back to my camp, three miles [4.8km] distant, 
where my two mates got medical assistance. My wounds consisted of 
a fractured temple, a musket ball in my left leg, a bayonet wound 
above the knee, and a badly cut and lacerated hand. The musket 
ball was extracted and the wounds dressed. Today, after a lapse 
of 60 years, I am able to show these marks of the circumstance.

No quarter was given to diggers by the police. The mutual ill-
will, even hate, of each other amounted to a vendetta of 
vengeance on both sides; whereas the soldiers had no old-time 
enmity, and took prisoners of all who surrendered.

Slaughter

The Stockade became a shamble of slaughter. Every digger disabled 
from flight was mutilated and done to death by the police with 
enough wounds to kill 20 men. Whilst held prisoner by a Fortieth 
Regiment soldier, I counted 38 dead diggers from where I stood 
under guard. Men were pursued, and many who hid themselves in 
shallow workings were shot there, finding their death and grave 
in one grim act.

Lalor was concealed in one of the rifle-pits, and his Irish 
brigade kept their oath "to be true to each other" by saving him 
at the peril of their own lives. From there he (Lalor) was taken 
away at night to Father Smythe's.

His arm was taken out at the shoulder, and he was soon spirited 
away to Geelong, where he was kept secure by true friends, 
despite every attempt to betray him for the dirty £500 blood 
money offered for him, Vem, Black, Kennedy, Lynch, and the 
bravest of the brave.

Amid the crowding rush from all parts of the diggings, consequent 
on the assault and storming of Eureka, many prisoners made their 
escape, the writer of these annals being fortunate enough to get 
away, though handicapped with an ounce of lead and considerable 
loss of blood.

Moral victory

In the Eureka Stockade there was a victory for both sides. The 
Queen's troops achieved a small conquest over less than half 
their own force of men. The miners fought for a triumph of 
principle, and their victory was a moral and a constitutional 
one.

The first fruits of the miners' moral victory were that, in a 
year, the Miners' Right to mine or dig for gold was issued on 
stout parchment, to be current for one year; price £1. 
Responsible Government was instituted, with Peter Lalor as member 
for Ballarat; and, in the second year from Eureka came the Eight 
Hours labour day.

* * *

*Taken from Eureka and Beyond (edited by Vic Williams, 
published 1988 by Lone Hand Press, Willagee, WA).