Ballarat

I set off for the town of Ballarat not sure what to expect. It just beats Bendigo for the largest population centre in Victoria outside Melbourne, and it's also an old gold-mining town, so I was expecting something similar.

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The journey didn't get off to a good start – I had used Google Maps to print out route instructions, but hadn't realised that they would involve travelling on unsealed forest tracks. Not being in a car that was really equipped for those, the journey quickly departed from the instructions. The problem with a route described in this way is that once you've left it, you've virtually no chance of finding it again. I ended up wandering rather aimlessly along narrow lanes hoping that eventually I'd come across a sign indicating the direction to somewhere. Anywhere, really. Even something indicating where I actually was would have been some comfort.

Eventually I came to a proper highway but there was nothing to indicate which one it was or where it led. I turned right but it later transpired that turning left would have been better. Ah well, I did eventually find Ballarat, but that was just the beginning of a new set of navigational difficulties. For some reason, the location of the tourist information centre appears to be a closely guarded secret. There was, to be fair, a sign indicating that turning left would be a good idea, but left turns were prohibited because of road works. I thought I'd try turning left at the next junction and try to return to the original road, but the one-way system put paid to that idea.

In the end, I drove aimlessly around for about 45 minutes before spotting a (the?) sign for Melbourne and deciding that Ballarat had had long enough to prove itself and it was time to head back the way I'd come and visit one of the other towns along the way. Coincidentally, as I was leaving town, the tourist centre was suddenly there. Well, I expect it had been there all along, but it seemed rather out of place away out on the edge of the town but, no matter, there it was and Ballarat got a second chance.

It turns out that the reason why the tourist centre was so far from anything was that it was right on the site of the most famous historical event that happened in Ballarat – the Eureka uprising. As with most things in rural Victoria, the event had much to do with gold. Come to think of it, gold seems to have had much to do with urban Victoria as well.

As I've been told many, many times in the last three weeks, gold was found in Victoria in 1851. Within months, tens of thousands of people from all over Australia and all over the world had descended on the gold fields to try their luck at making their fortune. The Eureka lead was discovered in August 1852.

The colonial government issued licenses (sic) to prospective prospectors, which cost £2 for three months. It seems to me that that was a lot of money in those days. The licence only conferred the right to dig on a 12' x 12' plot (about 3m square) and made no guarantees at all about the possible mineral wealth on the plot.

The money raised was used by the authorities to create the infrastructure that was required in what had almost overnight become a sizeable town. Roads were created and police were recruited to control the populace. The miners, though, saw the licence fees as a tax imposed by a government in which they had no say – none of them had any right to vote.

Governor La Trobe had already recognised the problem and had written to the Colonial Office in London suggesting that the licence be replaced by a 12-month version which would also confer voting rights on the holder. Further, the idea of taxing the gold that was actually extracted rather than having the miners pay up front was included in his letter. In those days, though, mail was slow and very unreliable and before the answer arrived (approving the suggestion, incidentally), Governor La Trobe was replaced by Governor Hotham who was less sympathetic. He took one look at the accounts and realised that the colony was in deep and immediate financial crisis. He ordered the police to increase their scrutiny of the licence system – the so-called “licence hunts” which were detested by the miners. In fact, it's likely that at least half the miners hadn't bought a licence so, arguably, Hotham had a point. Nonetheless, the miners saw things differently and, on the night of 29 November 1854, 12,000 miners gathered on Bakery Hill and pledged allegiance to one another and to their fight for civil liberties. They gathered for the first time round the Southern Cross flag – a vertical white cross with a star at each point and in the middle on a blue background. The original flag is in the town's Art Gallery, but I found this picture of it on the internet:

By 3 December, the hill had been crudely fortified and a group of miners had gathered such arms as they could find. The force was nothing like the 12,000 that had gathered only a few days before – most likely there were less than a hundred in the stockade. A force of soldiers and police surrounded the stockade. Exactly what happened next is disputed, but the accepted order of events is that someone from inside the stockade fired the first shot. The result was short and bloody. Within an hour 30 men were dead (5 soldiers and 25 miners) and the rising was over.

13 miners were committed to trial in Melbourne, but the local press had covered the story and public opinion was on the miners' side. It was felt that the government's action had been heavy handed and that there were legitimate grievances. Nevertheless, the 13 were taken to court accused of high treason, which carried the death penalty.

The defence manoeuvred to have a Black American called John Joseph tried first. Their argument seems rather racist now (that the idea that this simple Negro might be making war on our Lady the Queen is absurd) but it was effective and Joseph was acquitted, setting a precedent. A second man was acquitted and the prosecution moved to postpone the remaining trials until a new jury (excluding miners and those “with Irish names”) could be sworn in. It didn't make any difference and, by 27 March 1855, all 13 had been found not guilty.

The aftermath of the riot saw many of the changes demanded by the miners implemented. The letter from London authorising the changes that La Trobe had requested finally arrived and the miners were given not just a vote, but also two representatives in parliament. The licence fee was replaced by a tax of 2/6 per ounce of gold.

The Eureka Rebellion has a special place in Australian history. The information panels at the centre drew parallels to Culloden for the Scots or Gettysburg for Americans. I'm not 100% convinced by the comparison to Culloden but I see what they're getting at. What Australians take from the incident is the birth of the idea of civil liberty, proper representation in government and the basic ideal of Australians – a fair go for everyone.

Feeling slightly more positive towards Ballarat (and fortified by an excellent scone with jam and cream) I set off back towards the town centre, having been assured by the man at the information centre that it was worth seeing. He was right.

The Botanic Gardens at the eastern end of the town were very peaceful and worth a stroll. They have an avenue lined with busts of every prime minister in Australian history. I can tell you (well, remind you – I'm sure you already knew) that the first one was Edmund Barton who was PM from 1901, when the separate colonies formed the new Commonwealth of Australia, until 1903.

The line of statues is out of date; the last one is this:

but the day I arrived in Melbourne, Mr Rudd was replaced, rather unceremoniously, by his deputy Julia Gillard (I think the timing was coincidental). No doubt a sculptor is, even now, busy chipping away at a bust of Australia's first female Prime Minister. I can only hope she turns out to be a better bet than the UK's first one...

One of the statues caught my eye:

This gentleman decided to go swimming one day and was never seen again. It seems to me a mite careless for a country to just lose a prime minister, but it's not hard to think of a few other candidates that might also be “lost”...

The town centre of Ballarat contains lots of lovely buildings reflecting the immense wealth generated from the gold mined from the area. Here are just a couple of examples:


Finally it was time to leave. Of course, it took the best part of an hour to find my way out of the city. I couldn't help wondering whether some of that gold revenue couldn't have been spent on a few road-direction or street-name signs. Just as I was contemplating living in Alec's car in Ballaret for the rest of my life, I suddenly found myself on the motorway and heading for Melbourne. Never has a motorway been more welcome!