Sunday, 27th May. 1838

Great excitement all week here at the Vice-Regal Palace as my wife and daughters work themselves into a frenzy of expectation over the Theatre Opening tomorrow night.

As if it were not bad enough that I am expected to attend the damned thing, I am also, it seems, expected to  be thrilled by the thought.

We have been assigned a box on the side of the stage where we can be viewed, like monkeys in a cage, by the entire assembled throng. This is fortunate, as it means I can position myself so that my bad eye is facing the stage and at least I will not have to watch the show. There seems to be little I can do about hearing the show, comic songs and all.

The negotiations for the land by the Port Road are pretty much complete. The plan is this: a consortium of tradesmen have clubbed together with the plan of assisting their fellows of the working classes by obtaining land for them to live upon. Prices for land in the Township have become extortionately high and so these chaps have come up with a plan to buy a conveniently located country section, divide it into half acre lots and make them available for sale at a reasonable cost.

Since my land at the corner of the River, the Park Land and the Port Road is about as conveniently located as it is possible to be it is this that they have set their hearts upon.

The fellows are:  Morgan Richards; George Manton; Johnny Adams; Thos. Orsmond; Georgie Roberts; Ed Howard; "Piggy" Bill Bacon and Samuel Chapman. They hope to sell two hundred blocks of land and recoup their costs almost immediately.

Their original offer was £800. I countered with £1250 and after some dealing we shook hands at £1000 even.

I scored quite happily in this. Just as the fellows and I were making our agreements, in burst Light, Finniss and a few others of Fisher's party, who had clearly hot footed it to Government House to try and get there before any final deal was struck.

Without so much as a greeting Finniss told me "Whatever they have offered I am authorised to offer £100 more!"

Authorised by whom, I wonder?  Clearly Fisher, Hack and probably Morphett had been doing their sums and had seen that dividing land was a ready way to riches.

I looked the man up and down and told him that the other party had agreed already to £1000. This set him back on his heels, as he clearly had thought that I might have settled with the consortium for considerably less.

"Then I will offer you £1100," he said.

I smiled. The tradesmen looked apprehensive, as £1100 was clearly outside of their ability to pay.

"Tell whoever it might be who has authorised you," I said, "that I would rather lose £100 and do a service to the poor workers, than take your money and make rich men richer." 

And it was with considerable satisfaction that I dismissed them and asked the workmen to attend me later that day, once I had arranged for Strangways to draw up an agreement for us to sign.

At the time of the recent killing of Enoch Peglar by some natives visiting the area, there was a degree of outrage at my insistence the there be no reprisals carried out against the Aboriginal population. It was felt by many that the natives needed a lesson taught to them and one swift strike now would lay down the law and avoid many a problem later.

Well, I was having none of that. One only need look at the other colonies to see where that policy leads. New South Wales has failed utterly to effect the civilisation of the natives and we are fortunate that South Australia is at a sufficient distance from Sydney Cove to allow the natives of Adelaide to remain ignorant of what has taken place there.

The recent events at the Swan River, where it came to be seen as sport to fire muskets near the Native camps and frighten the women, make a perfect illustration. The inevitable happened and a native was killed. There followed reprisals, with a large body of Native men, led by a bold and fearless chief, making severe inroads against the Colony.  

This ought to operate as a caution to the colonists of South Australia, to avoid the least appearance of enmity against the natives. A policy of kindness, patience and understanding will, I believe, be a productive and beneficial one.

By the passing of the Act of Parliament establishing the new province of South Australia, we have made the aborigines our fellow-subjects; under the protection of the same laws; entitled to the same privileges, both civil and religious.

Without a special regard to their welfare, it would be a crying act of injustice to seize upon their territory, deprive them of their kangaroos, and drive them back upon the walks of other tribes already reduced to the greatest extremities. No; I have determined that such would not be the case with South Australia. Their kangaroos would meet with protection on the main land as well as their own persons; and instead of reducing their means of subsistence, every attempt would be made to supply them ‘with seed and to instruct them in the art of raising food from the bosom of the earth. 

That destroyer of the human race, distilled spirits have been carefully withheld from them; and I have used every exertion in my power to discourage the use, if not the
introduction, too, of ardent spirits to the Natives.

When Peglar was killed there was a deal of flap-doodle on the part of the ninnies in the colony about "feeling unsafe" and being "murdered in our beds". I pointed out, at considerable length, that Pegler had been a damned fool, treated the Natives with contempt and probably got what he deserved, but the flap-doodling ninnies were having none of it.

And so they sprang into action and did what every Englishman does best in a crisis - they formed a committee. This had a view to "dealing with the Native problem". After a series of interminable meetings the "Native Problem Committee" has achieved a series of decisions. They are:

1st.—That this Committee do meet once in every two weeks on the Monday evening at seven o'clock.   

2nd—That upon any emergency a Special Meeting of this Committee shall be called by a Requisition from any one of the Committee, addressed to the Secretary, who, on the receipt of such a Requisition, shall convene such a Meeting, specifying the subject to be discussed.

3rd—That all questions shall be decided by a majority of votes, and that in cases where, with the Chairman's vote, the votes become equal, the Chairman shall have the casting vote.

4th—That not less than five of the members of the Committee shall form a quorum.

5th—That when only five of the Committee are present, no question be considered as decided unless four members assent.

6th—That the General Meetings of this Committee be open to the public, but that upon the motion of any member, strangers be required to withdraw.

7th—That on all occasions when two or more of the members rise to speak, the Chairman shall name the member to whom the right of precedence shall appear to him to belong.

8th—That the decision of this Committee be communicated to the Government by the Protector of the Natives, or when deemed expedient, by an express deputation.

9th—That all subjects previously notified for discussion, shall have priority of hearing, according to the order in which they stand upon the Secretary's book.

I suppose it is obvious to any who read this, that all a series of long and tedious committee meetings has achieved is to decide how the committee will operate. The notion of a "Committee to deal with the Native Problem" making decisions that do, in fact, make some impact upon  the Native Population seems to have passed them by.

I predict that, whilst it may have been my Policy to treat the Aboriginals with a degree of decency, a committee filled with the committee minded might be more interested in efficiency and order. 

Now, my experience of the Natives is that efficiency and order is not high on their list of priorities. Indeed, I have yet to witness any of them form a committee with a proper regard to Meeting Procedure. I foresee much trouble ahead.

Mary's art lessons with Milner Stephens have begun. They seem to come in three parts. In the first: Stephens and Mary sit sketching pots of flowers or bowls of vegetables with pencils and paper. Stephens looks over her shoulder and offers advice and hints. To his disappointment, I imagine, they are not left alone at all. Mrs Hindmarsh sits in the room with them as chaperon and glares at them with her glittering eye  each time they come within three feet of each other.

 The second part of the programme is a series of excursions with a group of local artists to paint watercolours "en plein aire" as I believe the French term is. While I have reservations about a daughter of mine involving herself in an activity of French origin, the presence of Milner Stephen, Fred Nixon, John Skipper, Mrs Stevenson and even, on occasion, William Light, adds at least a veneer of superficial respectability to what could so easily devolve into bohemian laxity.

They have already painted views of Government House and I believe their next project is the Bank Building on North Terrace.

The third part of the lessons appears to be retiring to Lee's Coffee House and drinking strong coffee while discussing the problems of the world. Fortunately, they are equipped with all the wisdom and experience of the young and so it seems apparent that the problems of the world will soon all be solved. And what will they do then, eh?

Sunday, 20th May, 1838

Well, well.

A report has arrived from London informing us that at the start of the year a meeting was held, expressing the need to recall me back to England and appoint a new Governor here in my place.

I gather that reports received in London portray me as a vile tyrant, part Herod, part Tamurlaine, part Nero, with naught but contempt for the rule of law and decency. (Fisher, I dare say, will be cast in the role of Law and Decency)

It seems that I spend much of my time reclining on a divan whilst eunuchs fan me with ostrich feathers and slave girls cater to my merest whim.

No less than Durward Kingston is to be thanked for this nonsense. I understood that the little sneak had been sent back to England on some flimsy pretext in order that Light and the Surveying Party could be rid of the nuisance he provided.

Instead, it appears that he was tasked by none other than Fisher to spread rumours and calumny about me, no doubt aided by letters from Gouger, Morphett and Brown.

I hear that he is shortly to return to our shores where he will, I do not doubt, be made to feel as welcome as a rat turd in a cheesewright's.

I have surprised even myself with the equanimity with which I have received this report. At first I was disappointed and even angry, but on reflection I have experienced a degree of relief.

When they brought me the news of the Magee hanging, and described the man dangling at the end of a rope while thousands looked on as he tried to save himself, while the life was being choked out of him, my first thought was "Well, I know how he felt." The last eighteen months have been, truth to tell, most trying and if I am to be called home then perhaps I am well out of it.

I note that it is reported that I have been in dispute with "the respectable Colonists of South Australia", a charge I reject entirely. I have been in dispute with Fisher and his party, none of whom are in the least respectable or even respected.

And, as if to prove how little respected he is, Mr Fisher has found himself back in court as Complainant in a Lawsuit for a Libel: Fisher v Thomas and Stevenson. Much innocent pleasure has been had about the town as the details and the proceedings of the case have been circulated. 

The question on everyone's lips is simple. "When will Fisher realise that by repeatedly going to court to defend himself against allegations of sharp dealing, he is only bringing closer the point when people begin meditating upon the relationship between fire and smoke and the possibility of one without the other, and start to surmise that perhaps Mr Fisher is, after all, really a sharp dealer?" 

Or, as Mrs Hindmarsh said, with admirable clarity, "He keeps going to the courts because people are throwing mud. He punishes the people, but the mud still sticks."

Part of the fun, of course, is to witness the performance of Charles Mann, appearing for Mr Fisher. Mann has given it his all, chewing the scenery as he portrays Fisher as a moral family man, sacrificing all for the good of the Colony. The weight of the responsibility he carries, the awesome decisions he must make every day. And he yet still manages to be at home to dandle one or other of his children on his knee (presumably on a roster basis) and sing them a lullaby with a suitable Christian moral every night.

All through this overwrought farrago, Fisher has sat trying to give every appearance of piety, but also to appear terribly let down and disappointed. The result has been that he has achieved the look of an early Christian Martyr, who has just read the programme and realised that he is not to receive Star billing, but instead is Second Act before Interval, meaning that he will be eaten, not by the big names he was hoping for, but by a third-rate, provincial troupe of touring lions. 

The whole case has been brought about because some months ago The Register published letters from a person signing themselves "A COLONIST". These letters outlined clearly, and in words all the Colony could understand, exactly what a mountebank Mr Fisher was in his business dealings.

Fisher, despite frantic efforts, was unable to ascertain with certainty who "A COLONIST" was, which meant that (a) he was unable to take legal action against his accuser and (b) that he was left with the suspicion that, since "A COLONIST", who was against him, could have been anyone, then perhaps everyone was against him. Uneasy fiddle the fingers that fiddle ledger books.

Since Fisher was unable to have his legal revenge on The Register over A COLONIST's letters, he has been watching the paper like a hawk and as soon as he saw Stevenson publish some pretty frank and fulsome opinions on Fisher's conduct in the land survey, he swooped upon them and landed them before the courts.

More fun has been had by all, of course, as the proceedings of the case have required the complete litany of Mr Fisher's dealings in the Colony as recorded in The Register to be read out in court. And so we have all been reminded of his selling of the barrels of salt pork, his cheats with the imported bullocks, his Timor ponies, his pauper labourers and their tree felling and, of course,  his 100,000 acres of surveyed land and the resultant injunction against him.

And all the while, however much this stung, poor old Fisher had to sit and keep giving his best impression of a Saint. At one point, I am assured by one in the court, steam was seen rushing out of his ears, giving him the look of a sanctimonious tea kettle.

Of course, Stevenson has been found guilty, but I fancy that if Jickling imposes a too hefty penalty upon him there will be plenty in town who will gladly throw a few pounds into a hat to assist him as thanks for the entertainment he has provided.

At the start of the week I took possession of two of my Country Sections of land. Numbers 353 and 476.

Section 353 is a triangular piece of ground to the immediate North West of the township with frontages to both the river and to the main Port Road. Section 476 also sits on the river, but to the East of the town.

Already I have been approached by a party offering me £800 for 353, which seems a reasonable return on the £73 I laid out for it. I believe I shall ask for £1250 and see where we land up.

Poor Walter Bromley has died. His body was found by the river where it appears he had gone to collect drinking water for the day. (A bucket was found next to him.) The medical opinion is that he knelt down to fill his bucket, his heart gave out and he simply never rose to his feet.

As kind and Christian a man as ever we had and a true friend to the Aboriginal population, I suspect he will not be the first to have his heart broken trying to reconcile black and white in this Colony.

On a brighter note this has appeared in the Register:

THEATRE ROYAL, ADELAIDE.

Stage and Acting Manager, Mr. BONNAR.

Leader of the Orchestra, Mr. LEE.

Scenery by Mr. LANGCAKE.

Properties by Messrs MARSHALL & RADFORD

The Public is respectfully informed that a small, unique, and commodious Theatre has been fitted up above the Adelaide Tavern, Franklin-street, the audience part of which comprises nine dress boxes and a comfortable pit, and will open on Monday Evening, May 28th.

The evening's entertainment will commence with the national anthem of God Save the Queen! by the whole company.

An Opening Address, written by a gentleman expressly for the occasion, delivered by Mr. Bonnar in the character of a Strolling Manager.

After which will be presented the admired play called

T H E   M O U N T A I N E E R S, 

or, 

Love and Madness.

Comic Song—Mr. Bailes.

"The British Oak' — Mr. Bonnar. 

Song, "Logie O'Buchan"— Mr. Elphinstone.

The whole will conclude with the laughable farce of 

T H E  L A N C E R S.

Doors open at half-past six—Curtain to rise exactly at seven.

Boxes, 5s. Pit, 2s.

Tickets and places for the Boxes may be taken at the Theatre every day from ten till twelve, and from one to three o'clock; of Mr. Portbury, Hindley-street; and at Messrs. Coltman and Co's Stores, Hindley-street, where plans of the Boxes may be seen.

Tickets for the Pit may be had at the Theatre; at Messrs. Coltman and Co's Stores; at Mr. Portbury's, Hindley-street; at Mr. Fordham's, Franklin -street; at Mr. Rainsford's, baker, back of Forbes-square; at Mr. Lines', opposite Hindley-street; and at Mr. Paris's, North Adelaide.

Comic songs; a laughable farce; Love and Madness: the whole thing sounds perfectly foul. If the thought of Mr Elphinstone singing "Logie O'Buchan"  does not fill you with revulsion then you are simply dead inside and a loss to decent society.

And, it need hardly be said, Mrs Hindmarsh and my daughters are already planning what clothing they will be wearing.