Three hundred feet from the house was his favourite haunt, his observatory, called ‘the Greenwich of the Southern Hemisphere’, built at his own expense in 1822. All that currently remains are two monolithic sandstone blocks, the anchors for his transit instruments, two telescopes aimed through domes, their shutters allowing movement on a north–south axis, measuring longitude and the exact position of the stars. Brisbane’s passion resulted in a major contribution to astronomical science—but that was not why he had been appointed. When the Duke of Wellington had recommended him for the post, Bathurst had protested: ‘I need a man who will govern not the heavens, but the earth in New South Wales.’2 Wellington’s clout had prevailed. But Brisbane’s preference to reside at Parramatta continued to draw criticism from many quarters, despite the fact that he was generally well liked.
Bathurst had ruled that the colonial treasurer should guarantee a personal bond, as was customary for public servants handling government monies. On 21 September 1824, Brisbane requested from Balcombe a bond of 50,000 Spanish dollars in response to Lord Bathurst’s demand. This bond, however, was not sent to London; Brisbane must have decided that the amount would be considered insufficient. Instead a new bond of £30,000 sterling was prepared and ultimately sent to Bathurst on 8 February 1825.3
At this time Balcombe was embarking on some lavish expenditures, fencing his land at Bungonia, stocking it with sheep and cattle, and a dwelling house and huts for his convict workers were being built, in accordance with the provisions set down for government land grants. At The Briars on St Helena he had enjoyed running a small farm, because there were slaves to tend the dairy cattle, poultry, vegetable gardens and orchard. On this far more extensive spread of the same name, he had convicts as workers. But unless he had been very fortunate in the choice of those assigned to him, they would not have been as obedient as the slaves or as skilled at farming. Most convicts came from the urban conglomerates of Britain.
Balcombe’s son William had also begun farming land his father had purchased on the Molonglo Plains (near present-day Canberra), and he was the first in the family to fall victim to bushrangers. A brass-nailed ‘leathern trunk’ containing his wearing apparel was stolen from a cart on the road west of Sydney, beyond Parramatta, ‘by two men, supposed to be Bushrangers’. Balcombe offered a reward of twenty Spanish dollars for its recovery.4
The Australian, the colony’s first independent newspaper, with an avowed aim of making the colonists aware of their legislative rights, was launched on 14 October by its joint editors, the barristers William Charles Wentworth and Robert Wardell; it was as robust and political as they were. Balcombe characteristically made a point of befriending them. At this time, ambitious to succeed, he was making his presence felt in colonial society: he subscribed to the Catholic chapel, although he was not a Roman Catholic; signed a petition (a ‘memorial’) for a Scots church although not a Presbyterian; and subscribed to the Wesleyan Missionary Society although not a Methodist.5 An Anglican, Balcombe was determined to be recognised as a good citizen.
He succeeded. In October, he joined the new Agricultural Society and was soon asked to be an office-bearer. But the Society made a poor show at the Parramatta Fair, with only a few head of horned cattle, some sixty sheep and lambs and a dozen sale horses exhibited. It determined to do better next time and concluded with an excellent dinner at Walker’s Hotel, attended by the governor. Shared interest in the Society brought together people who were not natural companions—the Reverend Samuel Marsden and the brothers John and Gregory Blaxland with Wentworth and Wardell, for example. John Macarthur had not deigned to join them, however. ‘After the cloth was removed’, many toasts were drunk, a few songs were sung and ‘good humour prevailed till past nine o’clock, when the Governor retired’.6 It was a long time, if at all, before such a group sat down to a meal together again.
Whatever Balcombe privately felt about the ‘emancipist faction’ of Wentworth and Wardell as opposed to the ‘exclusives’ led by Macarthur, over issues such as trial by jury, representative government and freedom of the press, he was careful not to become identified with either.
An initial battle seemed to go Wentworth’s way when the first civil jury of twelve was empanelled in November; Justice Forbes had ruled that the case should proceed ‘in like manner as Courts of Session proceed in England’.7 But emancipists were still excluded from the juries, radically reducing the number of men qualified for jury duty: ‘In Sydney, only 180 men out of almost 1500 free or colonial born adult male residents qualified as jurors. They were predominantly merchants, householders or settlers, tradesmen, officials, publicans and shopkeepers. Very few were colonial born.’ Brisbane was willing to consider ‘limited participation by former convicts’ but not before he had consulted with the British government.8
Balcombe was gaining an understanding of the need for civil reforms but, having been less than a year in the colony, he was unfamiliar with the intricacies and nuances of such a stratified society. (Britain had been far more stratified of course but he had never been in a position there to affect the way society operated.) However, he now understood the social position he and his family might best occupy and, despite his brief friendship with Edward Macarthur (who returned to England in January 1825), it would not be with the exclusives. Balcombe’s rumoured friendship with Bonaparte put him beyond the pale for many old soldiers, such as John Macarthur.
There were often reminders of Napoleon in the press. Large extracts from his last will and testament were published in the Gazette on 13 January 1825. It must have had a powerful emotional impact on the Balcombes to read their former friend’s last request—‘It is my wish that my ashes may repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people, whom I have loved so well’—and to see the names of all their old companions and to study the share allocated to each. They would have been shocked that the loyal Bertrand received a meagre 500,000 francs, while Count de Montholon was left over two million, a fortune. They would have wondered if it had something to do with the favours offered by his wife, although she had departed in 1819 and Montholon had shown fidelity by staying to the end, as had the Bertrands. Napoleon had also asked that his Austrian wife, Marie Louise, for whom he retained ‘the most tender sentiments’, preserve their son ‘from the snares which yet environ his infancy’. His son should never forget that he was born a French prince. He left to him his swords and daggers, his two pairs of pistols, his plate, field bed, saddles, spurs, books and the linen he had worn. Counts de Montholon and Bertrand and the valet Marchand were appointed the executors of his will. The companions with him at Longwood were all remembered and a sum distributed to some favourite officers who had fought with him in different campaigns. His bequest of 10,000 francs to Cantillon, the subaltern who had attempted to kill the Duke of Wellington, could be seen as a final glint of humour.9
When Napoleon was mentioned in the Sydney Gazette and the Australian, the tone had changed: nostalgia had crept in and attitudes were softer. Most anecdotes showed the conqueror of much of Europe in a favourable light, not as a ‘usurper’ or a ruthless despot. One went as far as calling him ‘the greatest man of the age’.10
Also in January, Justice Forbes appointed Balcombe a Justice of the Peace and honorary magistrate, one of eight in Sydney. Balcombe’s duties as colonial treasurer were clearly not regarded as sufficiently onerous to prevent him taking on the magistrate role; but this new responsibility—which generally involved hearing and adjudicating upon crimes committed by convicts—was in fact enormous, as magistrates could consign people to multiple floggings, the treadmill or to the harsh penitentiaries of Norfolk Island and Moreton Bay. The lawyer Roger Therry thought that magistrates colluded too much and had excessive power: ‘A facility for the abuse of it was afforded by a prevalent practice of entertaining the complaints of masters against their assigned servants in the private residences of magistrates, where they were exempt from public criticism.’11
On 6 F
ebruary, Lord Bathurst sent a sharp rebuke to Governor Brisbane for fixing Balcombe’s salary at £1200 a year, although he himself had asked the governor to determine what was appropriate. ‘As I was unacquainted with the full extent of the Duties and responsibility which would devolve upon the Treasurer, when I appointed Mr Balcombe to that office I deemed it adviseable to defer fixing the amount of his Salary until I had heard from you on the subject, when I should be better enabled to form an opinion as to what would be a proper remuneration.’ Bathurst regretted that ‘Mr Balcombe’s Emoluments’ had been set ‘at an amount which the circumstances of the case do not appear to authorize’. He had approved the government paying for Balcombe’s house rent, ‘not conceiving for one moment that you would have fixed his Salary at a rate so much above my intentions. I consider that a salary of one thousand pounds per annum, without any other advantages, will be a remuneration fully adequate to the Rank and Station of that officer.’ His lordship stated that from the time of the receipt of his despatch, Balcombe should go onto the reduced salary and pay his own house rental. Balcombe’s role in the ‘St Helena plot’ clearly still rankled with the Secretary of State. He mentioned once again that ‘the amount of the Securities which Mr Balcombe was to enter into with the Board of Treasury’ had not yet arrived.12
When Brisbane received the despatch some five months later, he could have been forgiven for thinking that if his lordship had such firm ideas on the subject of Balcombe’s salary, he might have determined it himself instead of asking him to nominate what he thought appropriate.
Bathurst was angry with the governor that neither his requests for a description of Balcombe’s duties nor the bond had reached him.
Despatches crossed on their long voyages. The bond was in fact on its way to Bathurst. It stated that Balcombe would ‘faithfully and diligently execute and perform the duties of the Office of Treasurer of New South Wales’, and should he fail in that execution, ‘I bind myself, my heirs, Executors and Administrators’ to the ‘Penalty of Thirty Thousand Pounds Sterling’. It was witnessed by Balcombe’s invaluable principal clerk, James Stirling Harrison and his relative, Robert Stirling, Lieutenant in the 3rd Regiment.13
In early March, the Australian announced the ‘Sydney Races’: ‘The lovers of the turf were on Monday last gratified with a taste of this their favorite sport.’ A piece of ground ‘tolerably well adapted for the purpose’ had been chosen just south of the turnpike gate near Liverpool and a large marquee erected for the spectators. The military officers were there in force and ‘most of the respectable inhabitants of Sydney’, ladies as well as gentlemen, and many ‘fashionables’. The course was a mile long and because of recent rains the ground was heavy. Balcombe had taken to the sport with gusto with his friends Captain Piper and Sir John Jamison. Because gout had often disabled him on St Helena, he had not actively participated in its race meetings, where the residents and officers rode their own horses. But in Sydney he could be a stylish racehorse owner and hire a former convict as his jockey. He had bought a large colt with the unpromising name ‘Unwilling’. Captain Piper’s horse lived up to its name, ‘Everlasting’, and won the first race with ease. In the second race, ‘Mr Balcombe’s horse took the lead and kept it till within a short distance of the winning post’, when Piper’s horse won again. ‘There were two other races, but the horses were so unequally matched,’ reported the Gazette, ‘that they afforded no sport. Besides, one of them bolted and took to the swamp, where he stuck.’ Afterwards, Jamison entertained a large party at dinner, concluding with a ‘merry dance’ with the ladies, including Betsy Abell and Mrs Jane Balcombe.14 In Sydney, the semi-invalid woman of Saint-Omer had sparkled back into life.
The enthusiasm for the race meeting and festivities resulted, a fortnight later, in the inauguration of the Sydney Turf Club. Governor Brisbane agreed to be the club’s patron and Chief Justice Forbes became an honorary member. Sir John Jamison was elected president and Balcombe and George Mills, the registrar of the Supreme Court, accepted the positions of honorary treasurer and honorary secretary. Captain Piper, William Wentworth and the sheriff, John Mackaness, completed the committee. They agreed—no doubt over several libations—that they would hold two race meetings a year and that a ball would be held after the spring meeting, much along the lines of the races held on St Helena.
The gregarious Balcombe, a man’s man, had found his social niche among the fashionables, the group who shared his new passion for horse racing and for the wining and dining, laughter and conviviality that went with it. It was an outlet for his good spirits and energy, and he won popularity for his willingness to serve as an officer-bearer for the Turf Club and Agricultural Society, adding to the official demands of his public roles.
The Balcombes were given an especial mark of favour on 31 March 1825 when Sir Thomas Brisbane dined at their home in O’Connell Street. There is no mention of Lady Brisbane accompanying him—she was said to rarely leave Parramatta.15 Although Balcombe and the intellectual Brisbane may not have seemed easy companions, the conversation could have been lively. Apart from the governor’s passions for astronomy and the natural sciences, he had a great love of France, its culture and its people, having lived three years there as part of the army of occupation. He was bound to be interested in Balcombe’s relationship with Bonaparte on St Helena and the matters they might have discussed: particularly the former emperor’s encouragement of the sciences, his famous expedition to Egypt with a shipload of ‘savants’—artists, historians and scientists.
Furthermore, the embattled governor might already have considered Balcombe an ally. But they were not to know that they were both under attack at that very time in the 19 March issue of the London Morning Chronicle, by a pseudonymous Sydney resident calling himself ‘Austral-Asiaticus’. The writer, most probably George Boyes, complained of ‘an almost incredible deterioration’ in the economy and circumstances of the colony under the present regime. The price of wheat had plummeted. Farmers and graziers were in debt. Merchants, extending credit, were ‘saddled with a heavy premium for Treasury Bills’. He made clear that he attached no particular blame ‘to his Excellency personally, who I am convinced is a well-meaning, an amiable and benevolent man; but, to that system of injudicious economy and retrenchment, which he was directed to introduce into his various departments by the Ministry at home’. As an example of bureaucratic excess, the writer quoted the role of the colonial treasurer, formerly carried out by the ‘Treasurer of the Police Fund, whose integrity in that office was unimpeached, and unimpeachable, and who received for the performance of its duties one hundred pounds sterling per annum’. But he had been displaced, ‘to make way for a Mr. BALCOMBE, of St Helena notoriety, with a salary of £1200 per annum—an allowance of £150 for a Clerk—and £150 for a house! Illustrious specimen of financial economy!!’16
Given the snide mention of Balcombe by ‘Austral-Asiaticus’, it is interesting to speculate on who knew, or thought they knew, something about the Balcombes as a result of English newspapers and personal letters from the ‘home country’. Ships regularly delivered newspapers, albeit five or six months out of date. Balcombe had been much in the news in 1818—but, more than six years later, who remembered his involvement in the alleged ‘St Helena plot’?
Barry O’Meara’s best-selling book, Napoleon in Exile, condemning the former emperor’s treatment by Sir Hudson Lowe, published in 1822 but regularly reprinted, contained many favourable mentions of Balcombe and his family. It certainly reached the colony. Indeed, a copy was put up for auction in 1825.17 There was still huge interest in Napoleon. On 7 April 1825, the Sydney Gazette published a ‘Biography’ of ‘Barry Edward O’Meara Esq’, a virtual panegyric, not just of the doctor but of Bonaparte also. O’Meara, according to the article, ‘merited distinction and respect by the generous feelings with which he was inspired towards the greatest man of the age’. The Gazette’s editor, Robert Howe, a devout Wesleyan, seemed an unapologetic admirer. He knew and liked Balc
ombe, and was well aware of his Bonaparte connection from gossip and O’Meara’s book. But no revelations from Balcombe about the exiled emperor ever appeared in the Gazette’s pages. There would have been a very mixed reaction.
The King’s Birthday celebrations were held on Saturday 23 April.18 The sixty-third year of George IV was marked in fine style in his colonial outpost of New South Wales with a holiday observed throughout the territory. Perhaps even the convict treadmills ceased operation. At sunrise the Royal Standard and the Union Jack were raised; the governor came into town for the ceremony, and at midday a royal salute was fired from Dawes’ Battery, responded to by the sloop-of-war HMS Slaney. In the evening, a party of 63 gentlemen ‘partook of a sumptuous dinner at Hill’s Tavern in Hyde Park’. Sheriff Mackaness presided at one end of the long, boisterous table, and Balcombe occupied the chair at the opposite end. Inevitably, some at the table would have heard the whispered rumour (whether it followed Balcombe to Australia or he brought it with him) and believed that they were looking at the natural son of the King, whose birthday they were celebrating with ‘loyal and appropriate toasts’.19
At this dinner, Boyes decided to drop his frosty attitude towards the popular and exuberant Balcombe, as he wrote to his wife:
I have told you already that I was very much offended with Balcomb in his mode of treating for a house—from that time I refused all intercourse with him—until last 23rd April when we all—I mean Des Gens comme il faut [the proper sort of people]—dined together—the Sheriff had requested me to take the bottom of the table—but I was not in very good spirits that day and declined. Balcomb overheard what passed and thinking it a fair opportunity for stopping a breach—offered his services and took the seat. I got as far off as I could. As soon as the soup was removed I heard him roaring out in the midst of sixty people at least:
Betsy and the Emperor Page 39