Before the departure of Colonel Arthur, the brigade-major of the military district, Lieutenant-colonel Kenneth Snodgrass, C.B., arrived at Hobart Town from Sydney. He was sworn in as acting Lieutenant-governor on the 31st October, 1836. He had attained a military reputation in the Burmese war, of which he published a narrative. He was cordially received, and his temporary relations were too brief to leave any impression on colonial affairs.
The appointment of Sir John Franklin, Captain in the Royal Navy, and Knight of the Guelphic Order of Hanover, was announced by Sir George Grey in the House of Commons, April 13th, 1836. He was presented to the king by Lord Glenelg, on the 20th August, and embarked in the Fairlie, on the 27th. He was accompanied by Captain Maconochie, late secretary of the Geographical Society, and one of the professors of the London University; and by the Rev. William Hutchins, in whose favour Van Diemen's Land was erected into an archdeaconry. Sir John Franklin assumed the government on the 6th January, 1837.
The nomination of Franklin was acceptable to the colony. His profession, his career, and character, were considered auspicious. He had accompanied the illustrious Flinders on his voyage of discovery, and was at Sydney when the first party left that port to colonise this island. During thirty-four years, he had himself obtained great nautical renown: his intrepidity, his sufferings, his humanity and piety, had been often the theme of popular admiration, and were not unknown in Tasmania. The colonists were resolved to give him an appropriate welcome. He saw with astonishment the signs of wealth and activity, in a country which he only remembered as a wilderness. Crowds followed him with acclamations: addresses, couched in language of eulogy and hope, poured in from every district. The progress of the governor through the colony was attended with feasting, balls, and public festivities. On his entrance into Launceston, he was escorted by three hundred horsemen and seventy carriages: the streets were thronged; the windows were crowded by fair spectators, who shared the general enthusiasm. The private settlers received him with unsparing hospitality: he was both oppressed and delighted with the signs of popular joy. The hearty frankness of his replies was contrasted with the official coldness ascribed to his predecessor. He repeatedly reminded the colonists that, although ambitious of their favour, the duties of his station would probably oblige him to disappoint their desires. He assured them that he came among them without prejudice, and determined to "see with his own eyes, hear with his own ears, and judge with his own judgment."
On his return to the seat of government, Franklin addressed a despatch to Lord Glenelg, containing an exulting description of his tour. He had seen the colony in its holiday dress, and all parties had mingled their acclamations. He depicted, with expressions of astonishment, the easy circumstances and general intelligence of the settlers, and especially noticed their exertions to acquire religious and educational advantages. His lordship replied that this report confirmed his estimate of Franklin's predecessor. In his first minute to the legislative council, Franklin pronounced an eulogium on Arthur's services, and laid on the table a despatch of the secretary of state, of similar import.
The admirers of the late governor were gratified by these flattering tributes; but they were not without risk to Franklin's general popularity. The party of Arthur was dreaded by the opposition, and was still powerful; nor was it difficult to perceive that past animosities had lost but little of their vigour. Captain John Montagu had been recently confirmed as colonial secretary, and Captain Matthew Forster held the office of chief police magistrate. Most details of government were transacted in their offices. They were both clever men: they exercised considerable local influence, especially Montagu, in connection with the Derwent Bank. Their advice Franklin could not easily evade. Thus the policy of their distinguished relative survived in his nephews. Franklin was scarcely seated, when the press professed to discover that he was an instrument in the hands of the "Arthur faction."
Arthur, anxious for the welfare of his relatives and friends, commended them to the confidence of his successor. Many unsettled claims were left to his final decision. Colonists aggrieved by the late governor, when their appeals for redress to Franklin (not unfrequently inequitable) were unavailing, fancied that their former antagonists still turned the course of justice. The sanguine hopes excited by an auspicious name, gradually gave way, and the governor was assailed with remonstrances, which enlarged into reproaches by a rapid growth. A design was commonly imputed to the advisers of Franklin to render him unpopular, and thus the late ruler an object of regret; they slighted, however, the reproaches they had been accustomed to despise.
"The lingering traces" of discord, were distressing to Franklin. In answer to an address from Richmond, which deplored the absence, and invoked the restoration, of social peace, he expressed his anxiety with touching ardour:—"With my whole heart I agree with you. Let us be divided then, if we cannot be united in political sentiments, yet knit together as friends and neighbours in everything beside. Let us differ where honest men may differ; and let us agree, not in undervaluing the points of political dissent, but in respecting the motives which may produce it; in cherishing domestic virtues, which will be found to characterise individuals of every party, and in making the generous sacrifice of private feelings for the general good, rather than aggravating the importance of grievances, which must render such forbearance impossible." These sentiments, not less charming for their amiable spirit than happy in expression, are important as maxims of political life, and they depict the main difficulty of the governor's position.
To promote the harmony of parties, Franklin considerably added to the list of magistrates: persons, discountenanced by Arthur, were placed on a level with their late antagonists. But selection is difficult where many are candidates. Free settlers of all sorts were equally eligible by their wealth, and made equal pretensions. Thus when the list was issued, it was received with mockery and laughter; and, said the scorners, all the "coat tails,"—rarely worn, except by free men—contain a commission. They were certainly numerous—large, in proportion to the emigrant adult population; but who can extinguish the flames of envy without kindling contempt! To further his conciliating policy, Franklin nominated to his council Mr. W. E. Lawrence, a gentleman of wealth and intelligence, and great liberality of opinion. An early disagreement with Arthur had been aggravated by frequent irritation, and excluded Mr. Lawrence from a station, for which his qualifications were many.
But the government was disquieted by internal discord. Judge Montagu and the attorney-general had quarrelled in open court: Mr. Stephen had eaten sandwiches in the judge's presence, so it was said, and had delayed a trial. Montagu assailed him with a virulence scarcely tolerated even at the bar. Without awaiting his defence, the judge poured forth a torrent of reproof, among which the following: "No, sir; in your official capacity I shall always treat you with the courtesy and respect due to you. Were you elsewhere, I should treat you, after your conduct, with less courtesy than a dog."
Such quarrels were little regarded by Arthur; but when the authority fell into the hands of Franklin, the altercations of parties were less disguised, and the moral weight of government seriously injured. The attorney-general resigned is appointment; and shortly after, as a judge, obtained the object of professional ambition. Mr. Stephen, while the law officer of the crown, was said to display eminent legislative skill: his drafts often elicited considerable opposition, and he did not disdain to explain the principles he embodied in his measures, whenever they were seriously questioned by the public.