The Chronicles of a Gay Gordon

by J. M. Gordon

The Government had decided that the Governor-General’s first landing in Australia should be at the capital of the Mother Colony, New South Wales, and it had been arranged that the then flagship of the naval squadron in Australia, the Orlando, should meet the mail steamer on which Their Excellencies were travelling, at Adelaide, and convey them to Sydney Harbour. I remember well the morning the steamer arrived at Adelaide. We had heard by cable from Western Australia that His Excellency was anything but well, but we were not prepared to see him looking so ill. It was with difficulty that he was transferred to the Orlando, and we wondered whether he would recover sufficiently to take his part in the arduous functions ahead of him. However, though always somewhat on the delicate side, he was full of grit and determination, and, when the time came, he was able to fulfil all his obligations, much to the delight of everybody.

Sydney had surpassed itself in the arrangements to celebrate the unique occasion. I don’t remember ever seeing decorations so profuse or in such good taste. The whole of the principal streets were a mass of colour. Venetian masts lined the pavements at short intervals. Endless festoons of evergreens and flowers crossed overhead. Balconies and windows were swathed in bunting and flags; thousands of electric lamps lit up the decorations and made the city a blaze of light. What shall I say for the Harbour? Looking towards this from the roof garden of a club in Macquarie Street it was a sight to be remembered but difficult to describe. The surface of the water, smooth as oil, dark as the overhanging sky, reflected every one of the myriad lights on the ships resting on its surface, and the houses lining the foreshores. Endless ferry-boats, like things of fire alive, rushed hither and thither. And when the great display of fireworks began, and hundreds of rockets rose from ship and shore, there seemed to be no harbour water, for the reflections of the roaring rockets were seen apparently to dive into the earth.

The day of the “Proclamation” came. A bright and sunny morning, followed by a real hot day. The route of the procession was over four miles long. Immense crowds lined the streets, and all available space in the great Centennial Park was covered with people. What a day to remember! The Commonwealth of Australia became an actual fact. All the aspirations and all the desires of the colonies to be one and united were consummated on that day. What a future lies before it! Before its twentieth birthday it has made history of which any young nation may well be proud.

The next and most important function, namely, the opening of the first Commonwealth Parliament by H.R.H. the Duke of York, accompanied by the Duchess (their present Majesties), took place in Melbourne. Their Royal Highnesses, as may be remembered, travelled to Australia in the Ophir. Melbourne was not to be outdone in enthusiasm or loyalty. She vied hard with Sydney to make herself worthy of the occasion, and well she did it. But, somehow, she seemed to lack variety in effect. This I put down—I may be wrong—to the fact that Melbourne is a newer city than picturesque old Sydney, and that, of course, Melbourne does not possess Sydney’s harbour. The whole of the royal functions in Melbourne, as well as those that took place in the individual States, during the visits of their Royal Highnesses, were carried out with complete success.

The Duke took the keenest interest in everything, and insisted on getting information on manifold points of detail. I may refer to a case in point. At that time the South African War was still on, but numbers of soldiers had returned to Australia, amongst them many who had been granted commissions while serving in South Africa. Some of the men were members of the Permanent Forces before the war. As these forces were limited in number, there were no vacancies to employ them as officers on their return, so it had been decided by the Government that if they chose they could rejoin, reverting to the rank of non-commissioned officers they had held previously, and be granted the honorary rank of their grade on relinquishing their appointment. The men concerned were by no means satisfied, and the matter came before the notice of His Royal Highness.

Just before the Ophir left Adelaide on the return journey to Western Australia I was sent for on board. His Royal Highness asked me to explain to him the position of these men. He strongly objected to the action that had been taken, with the obvious result that the question was adjusted by the Government quite satisfactorily. The chief officials of the Commonwealth had been appointed, namely, the Governor-General, the Prime Minister and the members of the Government. The Members of both Houses of Parliament had been elected, had taken the oath of allegiance, and were in session. The three chief departments, which were automatically to be taken over by the Government from the States were: first, the Defence Forces; secondly, the Customs Department; thirdly, the postal services. As regarded the customs and the post office, these services had been, in each State, under the able administration of competent civil servants. The task set for the Government was simply the selection of chiefs from amongst the officials of the existing State departments considered best fitted for the position.

The selection of an officer for the position of Commander-in-Chief of the Commonwealth forces was quite a different matter. While the general organization of the forces of the individual colonies had been run on somewhat similar lines, there were many anomalies to be eradicated and many difficult problems to be solved. The seniority and other claims of the whole of the officers employed on the permanent staffs of the different States had first to be taken into consideration in the military reorganization. This task alone necessitated much care and thought in view of the many fairly well paid positions that would be at the disposal of the Commander-in-Chief. Then the inauguration and organization of the central administrative offices and State commands. Further, and all-important, the preparation of the estimates for the yearly expenditure at the disposal of the Commander-in-Chief, for on this naturally depended the establishment to be maintained. Last and not least, a man possessing the thorough confidence of the Government, an officer of high repute, with much tact, was required. At times when I had been riding across the veldt in South Africa with General Hutton we had spoken of the coming Federation of the Australian colonies. He was always watching the news from Australia. When it was evident that the Act of Parliament initiating the Commonwealth would receive the Royal assent I became quite satisfied that Hutton had settled in his own mind to be the first Commander-in-Chief. As far as I remember Hutton first came to the front in the operations in Egypt, when he made a special study of mounted infantry. He was a firm believer in the usefulness of this—then—new branch of the service. Later on, when he was appointed Commandant in New South Wales, he found at hand the very material to train as mounted riflemen. Australians, as we all know, are excellent horsemen and first-class shots. The nature of the country, with the probable forms of attack to which it might be subjected, lends itself to their use as mounted riflemen rather than as cavalry. While Commandant in New South Wales he devoted much of his energy towards the training of the mounted troops in this direction. An able soldier, firm in purpose—somewhat too firm sometimes—he did not spare himself in the interests of his men. Fortunately for him he was the happy possessor of considerable private means, which, needless to say, helps towards independence. But what about tact? During his term as Commandant in Sydney he had several differences with those in power. That he did not always succeed in getting his own way goes without saying. But at any rate when he left New South Wales the forces of that State were certainly more efficient than when he took over the command. His experiences afterwards in Canada were undoubtedly of value to him, though it would appear that an unfortunate disagreement between himself and the Ministers there led to his resignation of that appointment. Owing to these two former appointments, and to his having had the command of the Overseas Brigade in South Africa, it was evident that his claims to be the first Commander-in-Chief in Australia would receive consideration. The first Minister of Defence appointed by the Prime Minister, Sir Edmund Barton, was the Hon. Mr. Dickson, a Queenslander, who unfortunately died within ten days of his appointment.

Sir John Forrest, who was afterwards raised to the peerage, and who since died while on his way home to take his seat in the House of Lords, took Mr. Dickson’s place as Minister of Defence. I remember quite well dining with him one night in Melbourne when he asked me what would I think if Hutton were appointed Commander-in-Chief. I told him that it wasn’t so much what I thought, rather that, as he knew him personally pretty well himself, what did he think? He answered that he thought it would be all right. “Well,” I said, “you know best. It’s you, as Minister, that’ll have to battle with him.”

“I won’t quarrel with him. It takes two to make a quarrel.”

“All right,” I said. “I presume, from what you’ve told me, that the appointment is practically made. Time alone will tell.” General Hutton was appointed, and within nine months the relations between him and Sir John became, to say the least of it, more than strained.