And the end of poor Lachlan
When Lachlan finally gained permission to leave Sydney, and he and his family arrived in London, the full Bigge Report had not yet been released. He believed he had good reason to think Bigge would have to support his government, although one would have thought his dealings with Little Bigge would surely have warned him the report was actually going to butcher him. Nonetheless he was reported as being in quite a good mood.
And goodness knows he had every reason to look completely miserable, because even without the Bigge Report his world was crashing down around his ears. While he was away, Lachlan left his British financial affairs in the hands of his brother, Charles. Now, up on Mull, Charles was trying to rebuild the Macquarie fortunes, and had bought Ulva. But he was also taking the steps that would break his family, relying too much on borrowed money he couldn't afford to repay.
In the meantime, of course, we know Lachlan had already bought an estate on Mull that his clan chieftain had to sell several decades earlier.
Then, the disaster struck. While Lachlan was in Australia, Charles had the opportunity to buy more former Macquarie land. It cost £22,000, everything Lachlan had left, or almost.
Some sources say Lachlan was seriously peeved and wouldn't have anything to do with Charles or his family, writing them out of his will. Others say this is quite wrong, and there are some writings (letters and Lachlan's journal) that indicate he retained his love for his brother.
But he still wrote his brother and his family out of his will. Well, that's one story. But when he died, his wife and son were still alive. He made sure his wife was as well looked after as he could arrange, which wasn't much. And his estate he left to his son.
But we're getting a bit ahead of ourselves. He's not died yet. In addition to losing his fortune, spent on land that was virtually worthless in terms of agricultural use, he discovered Bathurst was a turd. What a surprise!
Bathurst had promised him a pension of £1200 a year. To Macquarie, a promise was a promise. But to Bathurst the politician, a promise was just something you said to fill in a conversational gap. So, when Macquarie reminded Bathurst of his promise, which, of course, he had in writing, Bathurst made his excuses and said the pension wasn't justified.
A broke and almost broken man, Lachlan and co. had to make their way back to Mull by sea because, according to one source, they couldn't afford a coach. And, sadly, being on Mull just served to remind him of the enormity of his fall. He had planned to use his fortune to build a great Macquarie mansion, maybe even a castle. But now he was reduced to living in the existing undersized, leaking, hugely drafty house. Which, we note, is still there.
The house didn't have a study for him. He had to read and write in the poor light of the common lounge. To stay warm he had to cover himself in blankets while hunched over the small fire. Whenever the front door was opened, the fire almost blew out, and any candles had to be relit.
Concerned about his wife's health, and maybe his own, after all he had apparently been life threateningly ill in 1819, Lachlan took the family for a trip to the continent. But while there he received copies of Bigge's final reports. He was both devastated and furious. It seems he just hadn't seen it coming. He hadn't picked the extent to which Bigge hated him and his ideas, nor the extent to which Bigge hated and distrusted the emancipists, nor the extent to which Bigge had been won over by the exclusives, nor the extent to which Bigge was prepared to toady to Bathurst.
Macquarie wrote an extended defence of himself, but, in essence, nobody was interested. He was already yesterday's man. He took himself and his family back to Mull, and then headed for London to make personal representations. He did, eventually, persuade Bathurst to pay his pension - £2000, what's more, a lot more than Bathurst had promised but failed to deliver a couple of years earlier.
Unfortunately, however, Lachlan fell ill. His wife had just enough time to race down to London to be at his bedside when he died, probably of a liver complaint. She said he was calm at his death. Well, what more can one say? Okay, if you're us, probably quite a lot. But we'll limit ourselves to writing that Lachlan's corpse was taken back to the place he loved and which he had so much pleasure in owning, the land, at least, if not the house. He was buried where whatever's left of him still is today. With him, his wife finally buried the remains of their only daughter, who died at the age of 3 months in 1806.
Oh, no, we're going to do a Bathurst. If we were political we would perhaps say we're going to do an Abbott (the total turd who is Prime Minister at the time of writing, and who is famous for his openly broken promises). But we're not, so we won't.
What? Oh, the point. Yes, we're going to break a promise. You see, the story of Macquarie's tomb doesn't quite end there. Or should that be begin? For as yet there is no tomb. Lachlan's wife saved for some years to put a headstone on his grave in 1832. Then she died in 1835 and was buried with her husband and daughter.
Young Lachie, the much loved and long-looked-for son, who arrived after several miscarriages, and who came of age in the year his mother died, very sadly proved to be a total drunken wastrel. All the way through, he was what his father had only appeared to be on the surface.
Fortunately for him, in at least the short term, he married a reasonably well-off woman. Or, at least, her family was quite well-off. But young Lachlan's behaviour became more and more unconscionable. Eventually, his wife's brother insisted he be stuck in a lunatic asylum. His wife refused. Then, a few years later, on a trip to his best friend's family's castle-like home he "fell" down a flight of stairs and died. He was all of 41 years old. He and his wife had no children. He was buried with his parents and the sister he had never known. Still no tomb.
And therein lies an unfortunate tale. Young Lachlan's cousin, young Charles, son of the Governor's head-wounded brother, had expected to inherit the estate at Gruline, on Mull. Young Lachlan's will disabused him of this expectation. A bloke called James Drummond, who was the 8th Viscount Strathallan, had been young Lachlan's guardian in the years between old Lachlan's death and young Lachlan's majority. Noting that in those days, it seems a mother was not considered able to carry out such a role.
The sources are a smidgen confusing here for an old couple like us (Speak for yourself, Lex!), but it seems this Viscount's son was young Lachlan's best friend. It also seems that they enabled young Lachlan's bad habits by lending him cash. Then, towards the end of 1844, not long before his death, young Lachlan added a couple of codicils to his will which left his estates to the new Viscount Strathallan, his best friend William Drummond.
Young Charles Macquarie brought an action challenging the will on the basis that young Lachlan was mentally incapable of making or amending his will on the basis of young Lachlan's gigantic alcohol consumption, which began at breakfast with a tumbler of plonk, apparently. Following which he would go outside sometimes and challenge his wife's fowls to a war, in which he swung his sword wildly trying to decapitate them. There was a very long stream of behaviour that could only be described as extraordinarily eccentric at best.
Rather sadly, the court regarded all this as cause for a good laugh. The Strathallans being Viscounts, and young Charles being barely a mister, the outcome was pretty inevitable. The Strathallans lost by a country mile. No, of course they didn't. The cost of the trial that stretched over some 6 years, like something out of a Dickens novel, left young Charles stony broke. And so much for his father and old Lachlan's attempts to revive the fortunes of the Ulva Macquaries.
It's a little unclear who is responsible for the tomb (mausoleum). It is often attributed to the Strathallans around 1851 to 1852. They won their court case in 1851, so it's quite possible, maybe as a rather unlikely expression of viscountly guilt for buying their legal, if not moral, victory. Some sources also suggest young Lachlan's wife was, at least in part, responsible.
There are two inscribed plaques on it, one which was originally prepared by Elizabeth, old Lachlan's wife, is accurate.
A later one was clearly inscribed by a craftsman given inaccurate information by someone unfamiliar with the family. There are a couple of errors, which we will leave you to identify when you go there.
Or, of course, you can spoil our little game by resorting to Ms Google. Meanies.
The Strathallans, perhaps unsurprisingly, allowed the tomb to fall into disrepair. In 1948, the tomb and the small parcel of land around it was gifted to New South Wales. Several repairs have been carried out. The National Trust of Australia, with assistance from the National Trust of Scotland is currently responsible for its upkeep.
This outcome for Lachlan and his family reminds us of Ozymandias. How the mighty are fallen. Lachlan Macquarie, the Governor of New South Wales, was a good man, and did not deserve this. It's a reminder that the good do not always come out on top. In fact, maybe they rarely do.
And goodness knows he had every reason to look completely miserable, because even without the Bigge Report his world was crashing down around his ears. While he was away, Lachlan left his British financial affairs in the hands of his brother, Charles. Now, up on Mull, Charles was trying to rebuild the Macquarie fortunes, and had bought Ulva. But he was also taking the steps that would break his family, relying too much on borrowed money he couldn't afford to repay.
In the meantime, of course, we know Lachlan had already bought an estate on Mull that his clan chieftain had to sell several decades earlier.
Then, the disaster struck. While Lachlan was in Australia, Charles had the opportunity to buy more former Macquarie land. It cost £22,000, everything Lachlan had left, or almost.
Some sources say Lachlan was seriously peeved and wouldn't have anything to do with Charles or his family, writing them out of his will. Others say this is quite wrong, and there are some writings (letters and Lachlan's journal) that indicate he retained his love for his brother.
But he still wrote his brother and his family out of his will. Well, that's one story. But when he died, his wife and son were still alive. He made sure his wife was as well looked after as he could arrange, which wasn't much. And his estate he left to his son.
But we're getting a bit ahead of ourselves. He's not died yet. In addition to losing his fortune, spent on land that was virtually worthless in terms of agricultural use, he discovered Bathurst was a turd. What a surprise!
Bathurst had promised him a pension of £1200 a year. To Macquarie, a promise was a promise. But to Bathurst the politician, a promise was just something you said to fill in a conversational gap. So, when Macquarie reminded Bathurst of his promise, which, of course, he had in writing, Bathurst made his excuses and said the pension wasn't justified.
A broke and almost broken man, Lachlan and co. had to make their way back to Mull by sea because, according to one source, they couldn't afford a coach. And, sadly, being on Mull just served to remind him of the enormity of his fall. He had planned to use his fortune to build a great Macquarie mansion, maybe even a castle. But now he was reduced to living in the existing undersized, leaking, hugely drafty house. Which, we note, is still there.
The house didn't have a study for him. He had to read and write in the poor light of the common lounge. To stay warm he had to cover himself in blankets while hunched over the small fire. Whenever the front door was opened, the fire almost blew out, and any candles had to be relit.
Concerned about his wife's health, and maybe his own, after all he had apparently been life threateningly ill in 1819, Lachlan took the family for a trip to the continent. But while there he received copies of Bigge's final reports. He was both devastated and furious. It seems he just hadn't seen it coming. He hadn't picked the extent to which Bigge hated him and his ideas, nor the extent to which Bigge hated and distrusted the emancipists, nor the extent to which Bigge had been won over by the exclusives, nor the extent to which Bigge was prepared to toady to Bathurst.
Macquarie wrote an extended defence of himself, but, in essence, nobody was interested. He was already yesterday's man. He took himself and his family back to Mull, and then headed for London to make personal representations. He did, eventually, persuade Bathurst to pay his pension - £2000, what's more, a lot more than Bathurst had promised but failed to deliver a couple of years earlier.
Unfortunately, however, Lachlan fell ill. His wife had just enough time to race down to London to be at his bedside when he died, probably of a liver complaint. She said he was calm at his death. Well, what more can one say? Okay, if you're us, probably quite a lot. But we'll limit ourselves to writing that Lachlan's corpse was taken back to the place he loved and which he had so much pleasure in owning, the land, at least, if not the house. He was buried where whatever's left of him still is today. With him, his wife finally buried the remains of their only daughter, who died at the age of 3 months in 1806.
Oh, no, we're going to do a Bathurst. If we were political we would perhaps say we're going to do an Abbott (the total turd who is Prime Minister at the time of writing, and who is famous for his openly broken promises). But we're not, so we won't.
What? Oh, the point. Yes, we're going to break a promise. You see, the story of Macquarie's tomb doesn't quite end there. Or should that be begin? For as yet there is no tomb. Lachlan's wife saved for some years to put a headstone on his grave in 1832. Then she died in 1835 and was buried with her husband and daughter.
Young Lachie, the much loved and long-looked-for son, who arrived after several miscarriages, and who came of age in the year his mother died, very sadly proved to be a total drunken wastrel. All the way through, he was what his father had only appeared to be on the surface.
Fortunately for him, in at least the short term, he married a reasonably well-off woman. Or, at least, her family was quite well-off. But young Lachlan's behaviour became more and more unconscionable. Eventually, his wife's brother insisted he be stuck in a lunatic asylum. His wife refused. Then, a few years later, on a trip to his best friend's family's castle-like home he "fell" down a flight of stairs and died. He was all of 41 years old. He and his wife had no children. He was buried with his parents and the sister he had never known. Still no tomb.
And therein lies an unfortunate tale. Young Lachlan's cousin, young Charles, son of the Governor's head-wounded brother, had expected to inherit the estate at Gruline, on Mull. Young Lachlan's will disabused him of this expectation. A bloke called James Drummond, who was the 8th Viscount Strathallan, had been young Lachlan's guardian in the years between old Lachlan's death and young Lachlan's majority. Noting that in those days, it seems a mother was not considered able to carry out such a role.
The sources are a smidgen confusing here for an old couple like us (Speak for yourself, Lex!), but it seems this Viscount's son was young Lachlan's best friend. It also seems that they enabled young Lachlan's bad habits by lending him cash. Then, towards the end of 1844, not long before his death, young Lachlan added a couple of codicils to his will which left his estates to the new Viscount Strathallan, his best friend William Drummond.
Young Charles Macquarie brought an action challenging the will on the basis that young Lachlan was mentally incapable of making or amending his will on the basis of young Lachlan's gigantic alcohol consumption, which began at breakfast with a tumbler of plonk, apparently. Following which he would go outside sometimes and challenge his wife's fowls to a war, in which he swung his sword wildly trying to decapitate them. There was a very long stream of behaviour that could only be described as extraordinarily eccentric at best.
Rather sadly, the court regarded all this as cause for a good laugh. The Strathallans being Viscounts, and young Charles being barely a mister, the outcome was pretty inevitable. The Strathallans lost by a country mile. No, of course they didn't. The cost of the trial that stretched over some 6 years, like something out of a Dickens novel, left young Charles stony broke. And so much for his father and old Lachlan's attempts to revive the fortunes of the Ulva Macquaries.
It's a little unclear who is responsible for the tomb (mausoleum). It is often attributed to the Strathallans around 1851 to 1852. They won their court case in 1851, so it's quite possible, maybe as a rather unlikely expression of viscountly guilt for buying their legal, if not moral, victory. Some sources also suggest young Lachlan's wife was, at least in part, responsible.
There are two inscribed plaques on it, one which was originally prepared by Elizabeth, old Lachlan's wife, is accurate.
A later one was clearly inscribed by a craftsman given inaccurate information by someone unfamiliar with the family. There are a couple of errors, which we will leave you to identify when you go there.
Or, of course, you can spoil our little game by resorting to Ms Google. Meanies.
The Strathallans, perhaps unsurprisingly, allowed the tomb to fall into disrepair. In 1948, the tomb and the small parcel of land around it was gifted to New South Wales. Several repairs have been carried out. The National Trust of Australia, with assistance from the National Trust of Scotland is currently responsible for its upkeep.
This outcome for Lachlan and his family reminds us of Ozymandias. How the mighty are fallen. Lachlan Macquarie, the Governor of New South Wales, was a good man, and did not deserve this. It's a reminder that the good do not always come out on top. In fact, maybe they rarely do.