The trials
The trials required evidence from a couple of police and army spies and agents provocateurs. The names of those who appeared were already generally known, for example the leading police spy, Charles Goodenough, who had become a "close friend" of Raffaello Carboni's, had revealed himself by personally arresting Carboni at pistol point. This man wasn't just a spy, but had spent some effort in actually encouraging miners to rebel, thus causing some of the law-breaking he was ostensibly supposed to prevent.
On the same day the trials began, the authorities had a warning of things to come. Five thousand or so people gathered in Melbourne to protest at the authorities’ handling of the goldfields in general, and the Eureka affair and its lead-up in particular.
But the authorities chose to regard this demonstration as a representation of the views of a minority of Melbourne’s population, the radicalised ratbags, and that these views wouldn't be supported by the non-radical middle classes and businessmen, the ones who had the right to sit on a jury.
Besides, the government believed it had a couple of trick cards up its sleeve. The miners would be brought before the Chief Justice, who was not only conservative, but could be depended on to do what a conservative and patriotic judge would do when trying rebels against the Queen's government.
Further, the jury would comprise men (men only in those days, we're afraid) who were already qualified to vote. In other words, they were men who were mostly successfully involved in both small and large business, and therefore were sufficiently wealthy to be trusted with the right to vote. On the whole, these men tended to be conservative by nature, and protective of their property and their position in society. They were believed to have no time for or sympathy with what the government clearly regarded as radical hoi polloi.
The outcome was, of course, thought the government, a foregone conclusion. The governor, his advisers, and their toadies rubbed their hands in glee at the thought of the inevitable hangings to come.
A couple of the prisoners were remanded for various reasons. Then came the first actual trial, John Joseph, the black American. It took quite a while to select the jury, a process during which even the Chief Justice was observed laughing. The trial itself took two days.
The authorities were pretty pleased with the way things were going. They reckoned this bloke would really attract the racist vote on the jury. The prosecution case was presented. Interestingly, Josephs was identified by a couple of police, one of whom described him as outside the stockade and armed with a shotgun, and another as being inside the stockade and armed with what the witness was unsure of, but thought was a pike. This is not impossible, as the witnesses might have seen him at two quite distinct times. However, it also raises the question as to whether they couldn't tell the differences between the various black men in the stockade. There was, for example, another black man on trial, from the British colony of Jamaica.
This is our biased account of how the trial went:
On the same day the trials began, the authorities had a warning of things to come. Five thousand or so people gathered in Melbourne to protest at the authorities’ handling of the goldfields in general, and the Eureka affair and its lead-up in particular.
But the authorities chose to regard this demonstration as a representation of the views of a minority of Melbourne’s population, the radicalised ratbags, and that these views wouldn't be supported by the non-radical middle classes and businessmen, the ones who had the right to sit on a jury.
Besides, the government believed it had a couple of trick cards up its sleeve. The miners would be brought before the Chief Justice, who was not only conservative, but could be depended on to do what a conservative and patriotic judge would do when trying rebels against the Queen's government.
Further, the jury would comprise men (men only in those days, we're afraid) who were already qualified to vote. In other words, they were men who were mostly successfully involved in both small and large business, and therefore were sufficiently wealthy to be trusted with the right to vote. On the whole, these men tended to be conservative by nature, and protective of their property and their position in society. They were believed to have no time for or sympathy with what the government clearly regarded as radical hoi polloi.
The outcome was, of course, thought the government, a foregone conclusion. The governor, his advisers, and their toadies rubbed their hands in glee at the thought of the inevitable hangings to come.
A couple of the prisoners were remanded for various reasons. Then came the first actual trial, John Joseph, the black American. It took quite a while to select the jury, a process during which even the Chief Justice was observed laughing. The trial itself took two days.
The authorities were pretty pleased with the way things were going. They reckoned this bloke would really attract the racist vote on the jury. The prosecution case was presented. Interestingly, Josephs was identified by a couple of police, one of whom described him as outside the stockade and armed with a shotgun, and another as being inside the stockade and armed with what the witness was unsure of, but thought was a pike. This is not impossible, as the witnesses might have seen him at two quite distinct times. However, it also raises the question as to whether they couldn't tell the differences between the various black men in the stockade. There was, for example, another black man on trial, from the British colony of Jamaica.
This is our biased account of how the trial went:
The defence tried valiantly to argue a case in favour of Josephs, but the man was clearly as guilty as sin. The judge, certain of the outcome, was probably looking forward to lunch at his gentlemen’s club. Probably the Melbourne Club, with its food so reminiscent of his English private school.
Aah, wonderful. Not! Except to rich men of a certain type, of course, with their dreams of Nurse giving them a good spanking. Oh, and their fags. Ah, yes, their fags. He would probably have daydreamed while the jury was out, as his mouth watered at the thought of badly cooked steak and kidney pud, followed by equally badly prepared jam roly poly with that wonderfully lumpy custard they do so badly. Not to mention that wonderfully good Nurse-delivered spanking. Oh,and a little bout with his fag later.
But his thoughts were very rudely interrupted, as the jury filed back surprisingly quickly, after only 15 minutes. According to that great fictional 20th century English barrister, Rumpole, the theory was that the longer it took, the worse it was for the prosecution. The judge must have thought he was on to a real winner here. Well, of course, the case was incredibly obvious.
Everyone took their seats. The foreman stood to deliver the verdict. The judge reached out to touch with his fingertips the most powerful of his regalia, his black cap, ready for action on a shelf below the top of his ever-so-impressive desk, priming himself with the words he loved to deliver in as sepulchral a voice as possible.
Eh? What was that? He had started withdrawing the black cap, ready to send this damned black rebel to his doom, when he seemed to have heard two words, rather than one. He turned to the foreman and asked him for a repeat. ‘“Not guilty”, sir’, was what he heard this time. It took him several seconds to absorb the words.
He then asked the question. He was so shocked, he just couldn't help it, stupid and all as it was, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, my lord.”
The judge then went off his trolley at the jury, as the cheering of the crowd in the court got through to him. He had two blokes arrested for contempt of court, and that damned black bastard (sorry, that's the judge, not us, if he had been white we would have chosen some other unpleasant epithet, and you'll note we didn't use the word he would most likely have used) walked free from the court. To be chaired around the city on the shoulders of supporters, to the sounds of cheering men, women, and children who, not many years later, would cheer the sailors of the Shenandoah, a pirate ship of the so-called navy of the slave-owning rebel Confederate States of America.
Well, the governor would make sure the other twelve would jump, bounce, twist, and mess themselves fore and aft on the end of a rope, hopefully for at least an hour, if the hangman knew how to treat traitors properly.
Well, okay, we did make up some of that, but the bones of the story are true. And it happened not only with this one, but a new jury did the same for the next traitor, and, blow me down, as the government had not yet given up, another new jury did it again for the next one, the smart-arsed loud-mouthed chimney dweller (okay, okay, but we reckon it's funny, and he's long dead, so he can't complain), Raffaello Carboni.
Finally, the government saw the writing on the urinal wall, “Free the miners” and "Down with the nobs”, or words to that effect. Perhaps. Anyway, they called the whole deadly farce off, and even revoked the reward being offered for the rebel leader, Peter Lalor, allowing him to come out of hiding and prepare for his marriage openly, happy with his hero status. But perhaps not so happy at the physical price he had had to pay.
Finally, the government saw the writing on the urinal wall, “Free the miners” and "Down with the nobs”, or words to that effect. Perhaps. Anyway, they called the whole deadly farce off, and even revoked the reward being offered for the rebel leader, Peter Lalor, allowing him to come out of hiding and prepare for his marriage openly, happy with his hero status. But perhaps not so happy at the physical price he had had to pay.