Our Military Forces
Australia’s First Service Abroad
The Pioneers of the Service
         
              It was not until 1884 that we got the Defence Act,
              which placed Queensland at the head of all military
              organisations in Australia.
         
              In the 1880s, and for many years later, we were all
              separate “colonies,” with six different and very widely
              differing systems of defence.
         
              Australians had, of course, smelt powder very much
              earlier than in the Great War of 1914-18; earlier than in
              the Boer war; earlier than in the historical campaign, in
              which Colonel Richardson led a New South Wales Contingent
              to the Soudan, authorised by and provided for by William
              Bede Dalley, when Lord Loftus was Governor of the colony.
         
              I have an idea that Lawyer Chubb, of Ipswich – the
              father of Mr. Justice Chubb – once made an offer of
              volunteers for service abroad, and I am quite sure, from
              reading the old “Courier” files, that he was associated
              with Light Horse in Queensland some seventy. If he made
              such an offer, the question is whether it was before or
              after a force of Australians went off from Sydney to fight
              in New Zealand against the Maoris.
         
              That was in the early sixties; but I remember well,
              not the departure of the troops, but a family incident
              connected with the Waikato campaign. And it may be
              remarked here that our friend, the poet schoolmaster,
              George Vowles, had cleared off from school in Queensland,
              and manfully played his part in the war at about the age
              of 16 years.
         
              In the early sixties our family lived at my
              birthplace, Oaklands, Appin, on the Woollongong Road, 43
              miles from Sydney, where, about three-quarters of a mile
              of oaks were planted in about 1824 by my great
              grandfather, an East India Company’s officer, who had
              received a big grant of Illawarra land (vide McCaffrey’s
              “Pioneers of Illawarra”). We had an uncle, Jack Browne – a
              tall, handsome, and wild devil- in the Maori War, and he
              was killed at Waikato. The news of his K.I.A. came pretty
              late one night, when my older brother Billy and I were in
              bed. Jack Browne was very fond of children and we loved
              him. After we had been told the bad news, we were left
              alone, and I whimpered a bit, but Billy was quiet. “Billy,
              aren’t you going to cry?” I said, and he replied, “Not
              now, I’m sleepy. I’ll cry in the morning.” We hear of the
              easy tears of childhood, but children do not quite
              appreciate the long separations of death. I think we may
              say that the contingents to New Zealand in about 1860 saw
              the first despatch of troops from Australia to take part
              in “active service abroad.”
         
              I did not know them well until 1881, but the
              Queensland Volunteers had been a well conducted
              organisation many years before, and in my time there were
              as unattached Majors Godfrey Geary, Richard B Sheridan
              (afterwards Postmaster-General of Queensland), Charles
              Lilley (later Sir Charles, and Chief Justice), Ratcliffe
              Pring (later Mr. Justice Pring), H. C. Stanley (later
              Colonel Stanley of the Artillery, and Chief Engineer of
              Railways), Henry Milford, and E. E. Smith. Those were all
              brainy men, and would have been splendid war leaders of
              citizen soldiers. The organisation of the force was with a
              small headquarters in Brisbane, units at Ipswich and
              Toowoomba, and “Coast Corporations” at Maryborough,
              Bundaberg, Rockhampton and Mackay. The commandant was
              Colonel George Blaxland, who had been an officer in the
              Imperial Service, and was a schoolteacher at Toowoomba
              when he received the appointment of commandant. Blaxland
              was a soldierly man and popular, but when it came to
              reorganisation he had to make way for a more modern and
              more experienced commandant.
         
              He was brusquely treated, but in later years a
              Parliamentary Committee reported very favourably upon him,
              and he received a compensation of a couple of thousand
              pounds or so, and a pretty fair civil appointment. It was
              tardy justice.
         
              In 1883 Lieutenant Colonel E. R. Drury,, C.M.G.,
              (general manager of the Q.N. Bank) was commandant until
              the arrival of Colonel George French (afterwards General
              George French) for the organisation of the Queensland
              Defence Force.
         
              The brigade major, who was really chief of a sort
              of general staff, was a capable officer of the Royal
              Artillery, whom we now know as Colonel R. A. Moore, until
              recent years Chief Police Magistrate in Brisbane. He had
              been an instructor of artillery in Ireland, and was the
              brains of the force.
         
              The Infantry Staff Officer was Captain Charles
              McCallum, formerly of the 23rd Royal Welsh
              Fusiliers, who had a very sad ending, and the paymaster
              was Major Mellish, also an Imperial Service man, a
              splendid old veteran of the Wolseley school, who had
              served in the Ashantee campaign. 
         
              Another fine soldier, an artilleryman, was my very
              old friend, Sankey, the father of Colonel Sankey, for so
              many years associated with the volunteer section of the
              Defence Force.
         
              On the staff also were Lieutenant-Colonel John
              McDonnell, Under Secretary of the Postal Department, and
              father of Dr. Aeneas McDonnell, of Toowoomba, who for a
              term had been commandant.
         
              Major W. H. Snelling, an old “Courier” man and
              “Reuter’s” representative in Queensland, the father of Mr.
              Snelling, General Manager of the Q. N. Pastoral Company,
              and one of the principals in Martin Snelling & Co. We
              also had Major J. H. Adams, a grim old soldier, who ran
              the supply, or commissariat, as we termed it, formerly of
              the 72nd Foot, and Captain Geo. T. Weale, a
              surveyor, whose widow many years later was on the
              “Courier” staff.
         
              The Artillery was under Colonel E. R. Drury,
              C.M.G., as the brigade commander, who was succeeded in
              turn by Colonel Henry C. Stanley, father of Mr. Talbot
              Stanley, Mrs. Victor Drury, and other well known
              Queenslanders, and Colonel J. F. G. Foxton, C.M.G., V.D.
              Major Ernest Webb was a battery commander, and in the
              Garrison Artillery was Captain F. C. Bernard, late of the
              56th Foot, and who was Governor of the Brisbane
              Gaol.
         
              Captain M. B. Gannon was in the Ipswich battery.
              The engineers were commanded by Major Geo. H. Newman, who
              had an important post in the Department of Justice, and
              with him was Captain J. B. Stanley, a keen and clever
              officer, whose sons have won distinction in civil and
              military life, one being Colonel R. A. Stanley, D.S.O. a
              distinguished officer of the great war, and another Mr. J.
              H. Stanley, Under Secretary of the Treasury.
         
              The First Regiment, the old Moretons, was commanded
              by Charles Stuart Mein (later Mr. Justice Mein); the 2nd
              regiment (Darling Downs) by Major Richard Godsall, the
              father of a family of well-known sons and daughters at
              Toowoomba, with whom was captain C. J. A. Woodcock, later
              chief clerk in the Home Department in Brisbane.
         
              In the Coast Corps, Lieutenant-Colonel A. Feez
              commanded at Rockhampton, the father of Messrs Arthur and
              Adolph Feez, the well-known lawyers of Brisbane. Colonel
              Feez was a very capable man, a wonderful musician, who
              could sit at the piano and play bright accompaniments to
              his own brilliant whistling. He sang also, but the
              whistling was the joy of the old mess at Lytton. On an
              occasion during manoeuvres he vainly shouted a command,
              but a high wind was blowing, and his officers could not
              hear. He became impatient, but with no better result, and
              then the commandant called to him, “Whistle it Feez!” Feez
              had the “Officers’ Call” sounded, and told his officers
              what he wanted, and he didn’t whistle it. 
         
              At Mackay I did not then know the command, but W.
              B. Hodges, later a major of Mounted Infantry, seemed to
              run the show.  At
              Bundaberg we had Major William Bligh O’Connell (a relative
              of Sir Maurice O’Connell), who was later Minister for
              Lands; and as a captain, F. B. T. W. Koch, for many years
              a bank manager, and now a retired Colonel, whose four sons
              were in the thick of it in the Great War.
         
              The Maryborough command was with “Nick” Tooth,
              Major Nicholas Tooth, later a member of Parliament.
         
              The cadets were under the command of Major Reginald
              H. Roe, M.A., who was for many years afterwards a
              conspicuous worker, and his junior officer was Crompton,
              M.A., William Crompton, I believe, also a Grammar School
              master, and a fine Latinist. Colonel Roe helped to lay the
              foundation of a spirit of devotion in the old Queensland
              force, and in the Commonwealth force, and it came out in
              the big war in which the Old Boys did the Old School much
              honour. And his own family was not without a distinguished
              record in the world-shaking events. 
The
              Surgeon-Major of the force was Kevin Izod O’Doherty, who
              had been transported as a treasonable Irishman! Of him, I
              have on other occasions written much.
My first
              association with the Queensland volunteer forces was as a
              journalist in the old mess at Lytton. Each night during
              manoeuvres glittering mess uniforms were worn, and there
              was a warm spirit of camaraderie. Queensland had some fine
              men serving her in those days, and the camps, as the
              periods of annual training, were great social affairs. The
              Press devoted much attention to the work done, and it was
              no unusual thing for me to ride to town by 11pm, with my
              copy and back to Lytton for the night, with a 5 o’clock
              turn out next morning. Some of us were young, and all were
              serious. Where are now all those good souls whose name I
              have given? Nearly all have crossed the Great Divide. Of
              those men of the old school only three or four survive –
              Colonel Moore, still young, smart, and debonair, Colonel
              Koch, taking his ease in the afternoon of life at the
              beautiful seaside, Redcliffe, and looking quite fit for a
              campaign; Eldridge Smith, at Mackay, one of the most
              accomplished of Queenslanders in military as in civil
              life, and I have no information about Crompton, who left
              Queensland years ago for England. The rest have gone; but
              they did good service for Queensland. Perhaps “they
              builded better than they knew!”
Queensland
              came under the Defence Act of 1884 with the idea of
              forming a defensive organisation, with a wider scope, and
              a more intensive system of training than was possible
              under the old volunteer Act. Colonel French, the new
              commandant, was Irish, but not related to Field Marshall
              Lord French, a tall, strapping man of middle age, and with
              a very considerable family. He made his home in the two
              storied brick building which now serves as part of the
              Queensland headquarters office, and soon became, with Mrs.
              French and their young folk, closely identified with the
              social life of Brisbane. The eldest daughter married Dr.
              “Ned.” O’Doherty, and was left a widow with a family.
              Colonel French went from Queensland to New South Wales as
              Commandant there, and later was promoted Major-General and
              knighted. He was a keen soldier of equable temperament,
              and under the Defence Act, which was the outcome of his
              recommendation; Queensland took the lead in Australia in
              military training. The greatest tribute to Queensland’s
              system was to be seen in the reconstitution of the
              Commonwealth General Staff after the Great War. The
              following were some of the higher appointments on the
              staff and generally: Inspector-General. Lieutenant-General
              Sir Harry Chauvel; chief of the general staff,
              Major-General Brudenel White; Adjutant-General,
              Major-General Victor Sellheim; Quartermaster-General,
              Brigadier-General John K. Forsyth; Chief Staff Officer of
              Artillery, Brigadier-General Coxen, and Brigadier-General
              Phillips with him; Chief Staff Officer of Engineers,
              Brigadier-General Cecil Foott; Military Secretary,
              Brigadier-General Thomas Dodds; General Officer Commanding
              in New South Wales, Major General Brand; and Officer
              Commanding Troops in Tasmania, Colonel Dudley White. Every
              one named, and the biggest of the staff appointments of
              the Commonwealth are covered, was a Queenslander. It is
              not to be supposed that Queenslanders had natural aptitude
              above the officers of other States, but it is contended
              that the remarkable circumstances of the Commonwealth
              General Staff were attributable to the Queensland defence
              system established by, as he then was, Colonel French.
Colonel
              French aimed at compulsory service, not a comprehensive
              system, but a method of ballot, as in France at the time,
              to ensure the establishment of the force being brought to
              and maintained at its full strength. A Bill was drafted on
              those lines, and, as on a later and more serious occasion,
              there was some talk of the evils of conscription. WE did
              not then quite understand what a shelter the cry against
              conscription would be in later years to young gentleman
              with Arctic feet. It was never assumed that any eligible
              man calling himself an Australian would avail himself of
              such a shelter. In 1884 the argument was that compulsion
              was not necessary, that in time of stress every Australian
              would spring to the call for his services. 
However,
              the Queensland Parliament watered down George French’s
              scheme of organisation and took out the real soul of
              compulsory service. Only the dry husk remained. That was a
              provision that in the event of any unit of the defence
              establishment not being brought up to strength by
              voluntary enlistment, it should be filled up by a ballot
              amongst single men, and widowers without children between
              the ages of 18 and 40 years. The regulations under the Act
              laid down the conditions for a technical “efficiency,” and
              the Commandant and his staff set about the selection of
              officers and non-commissioned officers and a system for
              their special training. The establishment was soon
              organised and then began a steady process of elimination
              and substitution. Examinations were fairly stiff, and in
              later years became very stiff. So much the better. It was
              there that the elimination process began.
One great
              factor in the establishment of a fine spirit in the
              Queensland Defence Force was the Commandant. He was
              recognised as a good soldier, as an earnest man, as one
              who did not worry even his own staff, and he was a worker.
              Classes, each lasting a month, were held at Victoria
              Barracks for officers and non-commissioned officers, with
              men of the Permanent Artillery (regular soldiers) as a
              cadre. We began work at 6 am and went on until 8 am; then
              from 4 pm to 6 pm; and then lectures, topography, and
              general theory of evenings. Some men who could spare the
              time devoted the whole of every day for a month to the
              training. It was a “hard go.” The examinations followed,
              both written and practical, and they certainly were
              severe. We gloried in that. I worked intensely for my
              examination for captaincy, and had the pleasure of getting
              well over 80 per cent, (honours) in my written, and “very
              good” in my practical; but it represented fully three
              months of careful and persistent work. In those days men
              gave their time ungrudgingly and devotedly – more time
              than they really could afford. I say this with great
              pride: that I gave to my country about 22 of my best years
              organizing and training officers and men – the best I had
              in me. As much time was given to the defence organisation
              as to my private work. We were paid a certain amount, and
              what I received might have been paid for the keep of one
              horse. That is only an illustration of the spirit, and I
              am sufficiently immodest to glory in it today. Scores of
              men, busy in civil life, and battling along for bread and
              butter, did the same. Some one a few days ago said: “What
              thanks did we get?” Happily, I was able to say that we
              were not looking for thanks. We knew that the day would
              come, when, in Australia or elsewhere, we should have to
              fight, and it was our job to be ready, and to have others
              ready. Many of “The Old Brigade,” have gone on the long
              journey – few, indeed, are left. Yet I venture to say
              there is not one who regrets, what he has given to
              Queensland and to Australia. On the other hand, the
              feeling was of pride in a fairly successful service. That
              was the spirit put by John French into the force which he
              created in Queensland, and it was carried on by, perhaps
              sometimes in spite of, his successors.
The scheme
              of Colonel French was to wipe out the volunteer system,
              and to make the force wholly militia or partially paid.
              That was opposed by many of the old volunteer officers,
              and notably by Colonel. A. J. Thynne.
The
              volunteers carried too many guns for the Commandant, and
              the scheme was again modified so that those who desired to
              serve without pay, and with an easier qualification for
              “efficiency,” might continue as an organisation. It was a
              sharp disappointment to French. He thought the volunteer
              idea would soon blow out, that men would not serve without
              pay while their friends drew so much a day; but he
              reckoned without his A. J. Thynne. The militia and the
              volunteers kept up a friendly spirit though some of our
              “cub” officers would sometimes speak of “those dam’
              volunteers,” and an occasional volunteer would rub it in
              about “patriots who would not serve their country under
              six bob a day.” Personally, I didn’t see much difference.
              We were all Mother Carey’s chicken’s, though French had
              the impression that one section of the chickens’ “was
              ducks.”
Another
              difficulty cropped up later, when we were all expected to
              go into khaki. Thynne’s men, the ordinary volunteers, put
              it that they were intended to be a distinctive element,
              and the Scotsmen- for we had a very fine Queensland
              Scottish- absolutely refused to be solaced at the prospect
              of losing their kilts. But then came the effort –
              successful, too, in the end- to destroy the so-called
              “National” regiments – the Queensland Scottish and the
              Queensland Irish. What a wonderful turnout those two
              regiments made, the Scots in all the glory of their kilts
              and tartans and pipes, and the Irishmen, whose uniforms
              were green facings held some of the most magnificent
              specimens of manhood in the world.
Yet
              Thynne’s men – generally a lot of young clerks, shop
              assistants, and the like, but athletes – could march rings
              round them all.
When
              Colonel George Arthur French arrived and got to work, his
              chief helper of the new regime was Major Charles Hamilton
              Des Voeux, of the Bengal Staff Corps, later Major General
              Sir Charles Hamilton Des Voeux, of the Indian Army.
That was
              before the coming of Major Lyster as brigade major and
              practically chief of the little staff. Des Voeux was a
              brilliant soldier, an untiring worker, warm hearted and
              generous, but when he came here first he had the
              impression that, as in the English and Indian volunteer
              forces, all officers should be men of means, and of some
              social distinction. When the former lieutenant of a
              Highland regiment, John Sanderson Lyster, came into the
              force as brigade major and chief of staff, Des Voeux
              became infantry staff officer.
Lyster had
              left the Army and came to Australia with General Fielding
              for the inspection and rough survey of the route of
              McIlwraith’s Transcontinental Railway from Roma, I think,
              to the impossible Point Parker on the Gulf of Carpentaria.
              After the completion of that work, Lyster became official
              secretary – and also private secretary – to McIlwraith. He
              was a keen worker, methodical and capable. He and Mrs.
              Lyster became shining lights socially, and his position in
              the new force was soon settled. Lyster could never be
              deemed inspiring to Australian soldiers, but he got on,
              and, ultimately became commandant here, and later, chief
              of the staff in New South Wales, until such time as the
              almanac came against him, when he was retired, and in the
              early days of the Great War got away to England.
When
              Colonel French went to the command in New South Wales, and
              to major general’s rank and a knighthood, there came to
              Queensland as Commandant Major-General John Fletcher Owen,
              of the Royal Artillery, a very brilliant little chap, who
              was later Governor and Commander-in-Chief at Malta. He was
              a keen, unassuming soldier, who kept the traditions going.
              Of course, French had established the very best staff men
              – Major E. Druitt, R.E., as Engineer, S.O., and Grieve, a
              brilliant “gunner,” as Artillery S.O. Both were in the
              front rank with scientific soldiering. 
Grieve was
              succeeded by Major Landon Dealtry Jackson, R. A., a very
              fine soldier, and a fine scholar, who kept up his work at
              Greek. He married Miss Georgie Drew, a daughter of W. L.
              G. Drew, C.M.G., chairman of the Public Service Board, and
              a sister of Mrs. J. O’Neill Brenan. Jackson was in command
              of troops in the Clermont district at the time of the big
              strike in 1891. An incident may be mentioned to illustrate
              his character. Bill Hamilton, later President of the
              Legislative Council, after a term as a Minister of the
              Crown, was a strike leader, but one of the best influences
              in the country for order. He was devoted to his cause and
              to his comrades, and when some of them were in Clermont
              lock up, he brought in their meals. Everyone respected
              him; but there came the day of his arrest. Mr. R. A.
              Ranking was the special magistrate in the district; and,
              when bail was refused for Hamilton, Major Jackson went in
              and offered a cash bond of £2000 – his own bond. It was
              refused, and Jackson, though he felt deeply that a bad
              thing had been done, could not make a song of it. He
              always respected “Bill” Hamilton. 
Later we
              had a Major McClintock and Major Chads – as infantry staff
              officers – but that is getting down to later days.
Colonel
              Howell Gunter succeeded Owen as Commandant, but did not
              quite catch the Australian spirit. He had also to contend
              with the rather apocryphal story that he had been accepted
              here on a misunderstanding. The story was that the
              Queensland Government thought it was getting the writer on
              Tactics of the same surname, and didn’t discover the
              mistake until it was too late to remedy it. I don’t put my
              endorsement on the story as being the whole truth and
              nothing but the truth.
 
              
CHAPTER XIV
The Queensland Parliament- Officers and Staff, Great and Lowly – A bit of Mount Coot-tha History –The Hansard Staff
Presidents of the Legislative Council in my earlier days on the Brisbane papers were Sir Joshua Peter Bell, Mr. J. F. McDougall, of Rosalie Plains – a cousin of my father- and Sir Arthur Palmer.
         
              The Pressmen, though sometimes meeting the
              President of the period, were more closely in touch with
              the officers of the House. Daniel Foley Roberts, referred
              to in an earlier article, was Chairman of Committees, and
              a very tactful and capable Chairman he was. On occasions
              Mr. John C. Heussler was Acting Chairman. Mr. Heussler was
              one of the kindliest of Queensland representative men, a
              good businessman, but loathe to hurt the feelings of
              others.
         
              A sharp debate had taken place in Committee, and
              when a vote was taken the “Not Contents” carried their
              point. “Those of that opinion,” said the Acting Chairman,
              on the proposal that words proposed be omitted stand part
              of the clause, ‘Say Content” – and there was a shout of
              “Content”; “otherwise Not Content,” when there was a roar
              of “Not Content.” Ineffably placid, but sympathetic, Mr.
              Heussler looked at the “Contents,” and announced the vote
              thus: “I’m afraid the Not Contents have it!”
         
              The ingenuous expression of his own view quite
              restored good humour.
         
              We had some difficulty in the Legislative Council
              in hearing, though some of the members then were more
              easily comprehended than 40 years later, and I vainly
              battled in “Political Froth” in the “Queenslander” for a
              sounding board over our gallery.
         
              Sir Joshua Peter Bell was sympathetic; McDougall
              was inclined to be helpful, but Sir Arthur Palmer would
              have none of it. He thought the Pressmen would be better
              out of the way altogether, at Kamscharka, or some other
              cool place. At any rate there was a limit on the number
              allowed into the Gallery, and I’m not quite sure that even
              at that time there was not an inclination to have us
              fumigated. We were just tolerated in that rarefied
              atmosphere of much dignity, not a little wealth, and, to
              do the hon. gentlemen justice, a fair amount of brains. We
              had, however, always a most wise counselor and friend in
              the much esteemed “Clerk of the Legislative Council and
              Clerk of Parliaments,” to give him the official title,
              Henry Wyat Radford.
         
              Mr. Radford was New South Wales born, and, I think,
              first saw the light of George’s River, near Sydney. We
              often spoke of the old place, for my own born home was on
              the upper waters of George’s River, on what was known as
              Tug-a-roy Creek (frequently pronounced Tugger-rye), which
              in turn led to the King’s Falls, where the Woollongong
              road crosses, and then up to the Cataract River, from one
              of the great gorges of which comes Sydney’s chief water
              supply. Radford’s people were soldiers. They moved up to
              the New England district, and we had an old story that in
              the bushranging days there Henry Wyat Radford, as a
              kiddie, had a smell of powder. The story runs that the
              house of his family was attacked by bushrangers, probably
              the Jew Boy’s gang, and there was some warm firing; and
              that a hole was cut in the floor and the little chap
              lowered into the cellar per rope and basket. I did not
              hear the story from Radford. He was rather austere in his
              official capacity and with strangers, but very kind and
              helpful to others.
         
              Mount Coot-tha or One Tree Hill was his hobby, and
              to the reserve he gave most devoted service. He was a
              trustee and hon. secretary of the trust, and was the prime
              mover in the tree planting on the way up and at the top of
              the hill on the cleared space. A drought came, and the
              young trees were apparently doomed, but Radford carried
              buckets of water up the rough, steep ground from the
              creek, and kept things going. The trust was too short of
              cash to get an engineer’s survey of the road up from the
              gates to the old One Tree, and Radford laid off the track,
              and no engineer could have done it better.
         
              At one time there was talk of selling part of the
              reserve, but Radford fought the idea tooth and nail.
              Surely his name should be commemorated in that great open
              space, of which we are all so proud. “Radford Road” is
              suggested as the name of the road up from the gates. It is
              alliterative, but that does not matter. I feel sure that
              the Greater Brisbane aldermen will do some courtesy to the
              memory of one who did so much to preserve to us and to
              improve the Mount Coot-tha Park.
         
              Radford lived at Holly Mount, adjoining Cromer, the
              home of the W. L. G. Drews and Cromer is now the home of
              the William Grave family, who are so well known to me and
              to all “Diggers,” from the great work done for returned
              soldiers and their families. Henry Wyat Radford has gone
              where all good men go. As an old Pressman, I’m glad to
              make a little tribute to his memory, for he was always a
              good friend to us of the pen.
         
              The Clerk Assistant was the Hon. Charles Holmes a’
              Court, a son of Lord Heytesbury. This peerage was created
              in 1828, and the first peer was “a distinguished
              ambassador, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland etc.” The family
              was originally a’Court, but the second baron took the
              Holmes surname with his wife. “Charley,” Holmes a’Court
              was one of the least assertive of men. On coming to
              Queensland he saw something of bush life, but drifted into
              the Public Service or Parliamentary Service, and stayed
              there, despite his having been admitted to the Bar. Later
              he succeeded A. L. Bernays as Clerk of the Legislative
              Assembly, a much more profitable job, and when it came to
              his retirement at the age limit he went over to live in
              the British Isles. He was very keen on mining, but had not
              sufficient knowledge of the fauna of the country to
              distinguish a “wild cat” when he saw one, and accordingly
              vainly put much good money into “holes in the ground owned
              by liars.” 
         
              We were together in later years in the Phoenician
              tin mine at Mount Amos, near Cooktown, a venture which had
              been warmly recommended to me by the late Dr. Robert Logan
              Jack as worth trying. We got splendid trial results but
              the mine was patchy, work was unsatisfactory, and we threw
              in the sponge, but with a mutual determination to get
              going again some day.
         
              The Usher of the Black Rod was a singularly
              imposing office, and borne by a distinguished gentleman,
              who wore a dress coat rosetted at the back, black silk
              “knickers,” black silk stockings, ornately buckled shoes,
              and an unconquerable air of dignified superiority. He
              carried a wand, and, so far as I could ever gather, his
              duties were to usher in the President with, “Gentlemen –
              the President!” to follow out that dignitary lest someone
              should kidnap him, and to sit in a form of modified
              grandeur just within the Chamber, lest some unshaven and
              unshriven Pressman should obtrude, himself between the
              wind and the nobility of members of the Council. Now, the
              Usher of the Black Rod was F. R. Chester-Master, who
              absolutely filled the bill. He had been in the Army and in
              the bush, and he certainly would have been an asset in the
              “swank” section of any Parliament.
         
              In the Legislative Council, messengers, especially
              those knowing chaps of the good old retainer order, were
              much more esteemed by some of the “heads” of the
              Legislative Council than were the Librarian or the
              “Hansard” staff, and, to be sure, the Pressmen were “no
              class:” at all. One may, however, well remember the
              messengers Kelly, Lane, and Timms. Kelly was a smoothly
              cultivated, independent Irishman. That is contradictory.
              Of course it is – didn’t I say he was Irish? Lane was a
              dear old chap, and in after years in his retirement many a
              pleasant yarn we had over the old days in his charming
              garden on Lutwyche Road. Timms also was a good man, and
              his son soldiered with me in after years, and was on the
              Instructional Staff. They were all inclined to be very
              civil to the newspaper men – provided that we knew our
              places. With all humility, we often didn’t.
         
              The Parliamentary Librarian, Denis O’Donovan,
              C.M.G., was a grand man of the grand manner. He had been
              educated abroad, and spoke Italian and French fluently,
              and German pretty well – so a German friend told me. I
              heard him on a great occasion address an Italian festive
              gathering in the Botanic Gardens, and in the flowing terms
              of Dante, who, after all, first lifted his language from
              the current of “vulgar tongues.” O’Donovan was a trained
              librarian, and very much under the rose, he at time
              contributed scholarly, polished and extremely dull
              articles to the “Courier.” A monument to his industry and
              skill was the catalogue of the Parliamentary Library. It
              was one of the “show” things of Brisbane when
              distinguished strangers came here, and Parliament showed
              an appreciation of it, if I remember rightly, in a
              tangible way.
         
              As a journalist, I have always admired the
              Queensland “Hansard”, because of its wonderful fidelity,
              and as a shorthand writer of sorts I have always taken off
              my hat to those wonderfully skilled chaps whose flying
              pens are like the old instrument which “can’t lie.”
         
              Whether “Hansard” has improved I cannot say, since
              I very rarely hear the debates which it reports; but if it
              has then it must be driven by a wonderful team. Who
              amongst the old time journalists is there who does not
              remember the great team which was led by our old friend,
              D. F. T. Jones, in 1881? 
         
              The names are those fine scholars, some of whom
              succeeded, some of whom succeeded in politics, journalism,
              or at the Bar; and it must be borne in mind that “Hansard”
              was established by a brilliant English journalist and
              author, William Senior, “Red Spinner” of the “Field.”
              Senior set a high standard, and he gathered around him men
              not only of great skill in taking a verbatim note or
              condensing a speech in Committee, but of high mentality
              and personal worth> It was once said that there was a
              finer aggregation of brains in the “Hansard” gallery than
              on the front Treasury Benches. Probably it was true; but
              in the Press Gallery the intellectual luminosity was even
              greater!
         
              D. F. T. Jones, as stated, had been editor of the
              “Courier.” In the editor’s room today there is a gallery
              of presentments of some of the ablest men in Queensland
              history, men who, apart from the strife of party politics,
              have helped mould the better and truer side of our State.
              At the head of them is the picture of D. F. T. Jones, with
              his deep set eyes, his rather straggling black beard, and
              his strong earnest face. When Senior returned to the Old
              Land, Jones took over, and he had with him later John
              Gilligan, H. Willoughby, J. G. Drake, Robert Nall, G. E.
              Langridge, D. G. Ferguson, Jack Scantlebury, and a class
              of cadets, some of whom bear names well known in
              Queensland. 
         
              Jones may or may not, as principal shorthand
              writer, have had control of Lawrence (“Larry”) Byrne or L.
              J. Byrne, who was shorthand in charge of Select
              Committees. I am not sure. Jones was a scholarly
              distinguished man, but his health was not good, and
              ultimately he retired to his home out at red Hill, and his
              place was taken by John Gilligan. It is not at all strange
              that Gilligan also was a “Courier” man, and he did work
              for the “Courier” just before his death a few years ago.
         
              L. J. Byrne also was a “Courier” man, a very fine,
              kindly soul, who saw much sorrow in this world of ours,
              though he was always a good worker and a splendid citizen.
              Willoughby was a round , pleasant looking chap with an eye
              glass, and his shorthand was the most wonderful I have
              ever seen – small and as though copper plated. J. G. Drake
              was a leader writer when I was editor of the “Observer””
              as a morning paper. He later went to the Bar, to the
              Senate, and to Federal Cabinet, and then to a post as
              Queensland Crown Prosecutor and Acting Judge, and his son
              has followed on at the Bar. He is still hale and well, and
              the only one of the old team now living, with the
              exception of Ferguson, who is a Justice of the Supreme
              Court in New South Wales. Nall also was leader writing for
              the “Observer” in addition to his “Hansard” work, and he
              later moved off to the Sydney “Daily Telegraph” as sub
              editor. Langridge was an Englishman who left “Hansard” to
              take over the “Courier” Gallery work, then to the
              Rockhampton “Bulletin,” and afterwards – well, I don’t
              quite know. D. G. Ferguson was also a writer for the
              “Courier.”
         
              In the Legislative Council were several sections –
              the pure merino or squatting representatives, the
              Liberals, and a few men of a particularly fine type, who
              were not at all keen on party politics. A few of the Pure
              Merinos I knew well. Sir Joshua Peter Bell – but he wasn’t
              Sir Joshua Peter then – was a splendid type of man, and
              his death in 1881 was tragically sudden. He was what is
              known as a man of “full habit,” and had a good deal of
              financial worry through heavy expenditure at Jimbour, a
              few bad seasons, and low price of wool. He was driving in
              Queen Street in a cab with Mr. Dixon – father of Dr.
              Dixon, of Brisbane – manager of the Bank of Australasia,
              when he suddenly fell forward unconscious. He was taken
              into the chemist shop of Mr. Moses Ward, and an attempt at
              restoration was made, but Sir Joshua did not regain
              consciousness, and in a very little while passed away. He
              was, perhaps, too liberal to be quite a Pure Merino, but
              he filled the bill socially. A great man was Sir Joshua
              Peter Bell.
         
              Another of the Pure Merinos was William Graham, who
              later joined the firm of Morehead and Co., now Moreheads
              Ltd. He was also a splendid type – tall, handsome, and
              cheery. His sons are well known at the Bar in Brisbane,
              and a grandson also adorns the profession, a good
              cricketer, like his father and his uncle. One of the sons
              is W. E. Graham, a very fine writer as well as lawyer, and
              whose abandonment of poetical writing is a matter much to
              be regretted. 
         
              I did not know George King, another of the
              squattocracy, but I knew intimately William Frederick
              Lambert, of Berkelman and Lambert, the owners of Listowel,
              a very fine sheep property on the upper reaches of the
              Blackwater which flows down – when it does flow – to
              Adavale, and so on by Emudilla to the Bulloo. Lambert was
              an Irishman, and Listowel is an Irish name. In the bad
              seasons he lost everything, and I believe died a very poor
              man. Such was the fate of many of our pioneers.
         
              John Frederick M’Dougall was also a fine man, who
              left good men to follow him, and he was uncle of the later
              Charley M’Dougall, of Lyndhurst, Warwick.
         
              B. D. Morehead was a merchant as well as a Merino,
              and I have already had my say concerning him.
         
              Thomas Lodge Murray-Prior was of the purest
              Merinos, and again a handsome and cultured man, with a
              beautiful home at Maroon, out from Boonah. Murray-Prior on
              an occasion showed his resource by driving his own bullock
              team to Brisbane, and more than holding his own with a
              “bullocky” who derided his polite words of encouragement
              to Strawberry and Bluey and others at a nasty crossing on
              the way to Ipswich. He was the father of Mrs. Campbell
              Praed, the novelist, of Hervey Murray-Prior, a barrister
              and of other good Queenslanders. When he came to
              Parliament he always wore a frock coat, light trousers,
              and a top hat. 
         
              Gordon Sandeman was a good racing man, like many
              another squatter, and he left many very warm admirers in
              Queensland when he went off to live in England.
         
              Then there was Joseph Capel Smyth (“long Smyth”),
              McIlwraith’s squatting partner, a quiet man, but a very
              capable station manager. 
         
              Of course there was James Taylor, “the king of
              Toowoomba,” to whom Queensland had been good, and William
              Henry Walsh, who stood to politics much as did Randolph
              Churchill, a democrat as to his head, and an
              uncompromising conservative in his heart. Walsh was a very
              fine speaker, but not suited to political life. He loathed
              a humbug. He owned several stations in Queensland, was one
              of the Burnett pioneers, and his family, which includes
              Mr. A. D. Walsh (manager of Dalgety & Co., Brisbane)
              is honoured individually and collectively in Queensland.
         
              Conspicuous amongst the Liberals and others of my
              time in the Upper House were some able men, but they have
              gone where we must all go – all but one. The survivor is
              James Colishaw, who, in 1881, was a tall, straight man in
              his prime, well informed and sincere, but an infrequent
              speaker. He had great influence in those days in the Press
              and outside.
         
              E. B. Forrest was perhaps a Tory. He was in later
              years a member for Brisbane in the Legislative Assembly,
              and went out on defeat by Mr. M. Kirwan, the present
              Minister for Works. A fine type was E. B. better known in
              the Assembly as “Pom Pom.” I first knew him when he was
              chairman of the election committee of John Sinclair, who
              was Mayor of Brisbane, and ran against, and was defeated
              by, William Brookes in a by-election for the city. A
              warmer hearted, kindlier man than E. B. Forrest I have
              ever met, and he was a very able businessman.
         
              Then there was James Gibbon, of Tenerife, better
              known as “Corner Allotment Jimmy,” because of his
              inclination to speculate in corner allotments of the city
              and suburbs. Gibbon was an imposing figure and a man of
              very strong commonsense; but he was never near enough to
              the people to be at all popular.
         
              George Edmonstone was one of the most interesting
              figures in the House, a man of considerable attainments,
              and who had filled many public offices in Brisbane. He was
              one of the older generation, that is reckoning as at 45
              years ago. 
Two others
              conspicuous in the history of Queensland may be mentioned
              – the Gregory brothers, A. C. (afterwards Sir Augustus)
              and T. F. They were the well-known explorers, and their
              names are linked with the history, not only of Queensland,
              but of Australia.
Mr. Denis
              O’Donovan, the librarian, was particularly careful, and he
              trained up the present librarian, Mr. John Murray, in the
              way he should go. Very few, except those associated with
              Parliament, know the present occupant of the important and
              responsible post. The job calls for extreme diligence and
              wide technical knowledge. It’s just the sort of job,
              thanks be, into which a member of Parliament cannot
              pitchfork an ignorant supporter. John Murray is a big,
              quiet, studious man. He does not pretend to be obliging,
              but he is one of the most obliging and helpful of
              Parliamentary officers. Ask a fair thing of him, and no
              trouble is too much for him in giving it. I have many,
              many kindnesses to acknowledge – but her is rather averse
              from praise, and we’ll let it go at that. When I knew him
              first, back in the 1880s, he was a tall, slight boy, with
              dark hair and red cheeks, and it says much for his
              personal qualities that he was acceptable to O’Donovan,
              who was a keen judge of humanity. John Murray came to
              Brisbane with his people when he was in rompers, but Mark
              Twain on an occasion said that one of America’s greatest
              men at a period of his life was absorbed by the problem of
              the easiest way to get his toe into his mouth. When Murray
              left school he went to the Library. He has seen all the
              modern tomes come to the shelves, and there is not a
              volume he does not know. “Mr. Murray,” a member will say,
              “there was a record of seismic waves in Western Siberia
              some years ago, I would like to look up something on the
              subject.” Before the member could say, “Have one
              yourself!” there is presented to him a full record of the
              creeps and the oscillations, and a clear account of
              earthquake waves generally. Murray soon became the right
              hand man of O’Donovan. Quite fittingly he succeeded the
              great man under whom he was trained. I looked up the
              librarian’s salary the other day, and blushed. Queensland
              should be ashamed to pay so absolutely inadequate a sum to
              so adequate a man. I beg to draw the attention of hon.
              members to the position – a man of great mentality, and
              highly trained for a position of great responsibility,
              receiving the salary of a clerk! It is not a political
              matter – another Ministry gave the Government Botanist, a
              man of world wide reputation, Frederick Manson Bailey,
              £200 a year! (Mr. Murray’s salary was substantially raised
              in the session of Parliament following the appearance of
              this article). 
Mr. Murray
              had once a very interesting assistant, Cornelius Moynihan,
              a poet and controversialist, and somewhat of an orator. He
              has gone to his rest. He came from, or, at any rate, lived
              in Kenmare, in Ireland. Killarney he knew through and
              through, every shadow on the lake, every bush and stone,
              including the Blarney Stone. He wrote and published a lot
              of verse, and one long poem was “The Feast of the Bunya,”
              which dealt with aboriginal themes.
The most
              conspicuous figure in our Legislative Assembly in the
              early 1880s, and for many years earlier, and many years
              later, was Lewis Adolphus Bernays. Very often Pressmen
              were upside with him, but I never had the least trouble.
              If any papers were wanted, I did not go to the messenger,
              but sent a polite note to the Clerk of the House. In
              return came every help and every courtesy. Personally I
              liked him very much. He was a scientist, a King’s College
              London man, had studied as a chemist in the laboratory of
              a distinguished brother, Professor A. J. Bernays, of St.
              Thomas’s, who was then an analytical chemist in the
              Midlands.
The father
              of L. A. was the well-known Dr. Bernays, a professor of
              modern languages and literature at King’s College. L. A.
              was created a C.M.G., but he thought more of his F.L.S.
              and his connection with some of the best plant life
              societies in the world. He was a charming man, but not the
              sort one would dare to call “old chap.” He had read very
              widely, and had a live interest in the industrial affairs
              of the world. He always tried to persuade himself that he
              was democratic. In his head he may have been mildly
              Liberal in politics, but in his heart he was True Blue
              Tory.
Yet no
              member of Parliament could ever suggest partisanship or
              prejudice in favour of his friends. L. A. Bernays was
              never reserved in advice to Speaker, Chairman of
              Committees, Ministers, or ordinary members.
There was
              May, and there were Standing Orders, and there was the
              swift and unerring view as to the proper constitutional
              course. He had his friends, warm friends, both in the
              House and out of it. He was strong willed,, and I liked
              him for it; and he was inclined to be dictatorial as a man
              must be who knows things and has to give guidance to
              others.
He was the
              guiding intelligence of the old Water Board, and some of
              the institutions, or operators of “utilities” in Brisbane,
              owe much of their present success to the firm foundations
              which he helped to lay.
He came to
              Australia in 1852, and to Brisbane in 1860, when he took
              office as Clerk of the Legislative Assembly, and organised
              the work of Parliament, basing it on his 1852-59
              experience in the New South Wales Parliament.
Mr.
              Bernays left members of his family well known in and out
              of Queensland – a well-known lawyer of Toowoomba, a
              well-known railway engineer, and the very well known
              present Clerk of the Legislative Assembly, who well fills
              the paternal shoes.
Daughters
              also – Mrs. Ernest Webb, Mrs. Gore of Yandina, and Miss
              Jessie Bernays, who lives in Sydney.
Who
              remembers Frank Ivory, once a Burnett squatter, a member
              of the Legislative Assembly, then after the “bad timers”
              clerk assistant to Mr. Bernays? He had been a fine
              horseman, and when I knew him in 1881, he lived out in
              Leichhardt Street, about 50 yards north of Brunswick
              Street, in a stone cottage. Many a good talk we had about
              horses. 
John
              Sanderson Lyster was a clerk, before he became Secretary
              to the Premier (McIlwraith) on his way to a job on the
              military staff; and the Sergeant-at-Arms was Mr. Robert
              Douglas, a very imposing old gentleman, whose job was to
              announce: “Gentlemen – Mr. Speaker!” to close the Bar of
              the House – not the refreshment bar – during the checking
              of a division, and to remove unruly members if ordered by
              the Speaker to do so. Mr. Douglas was a very kind soul,
              but, like all other officers of Parliament, very cordially
              disapproved of the general run of newspaper men, and
              especially of the frivolous “Political Froth” in the
              “Queenslander.”