In 1846, the good citizens of Ipswich were looking forward to the
arrival of the new District Constable, the previous incumbent having left in
disgrace.
However, the new appointee was to have a very brief tenure. The entire
sorry tale was gleefully reported by the Ipswich Correspondent of The Moreton Bay Courier, well known for
his entertaining prose.[1]
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| Colonial Police Constable |
LOCAL INTELLIGENCE.
THE CONSTABULARY.
ABOUT a fortnight since, Mr, Constable McCrohon, on
account of his previous good conduct was promoted to the rank of District
Constable, and was ordered to proceed to Ipswich in the room of Mr. Higgins,
who was dismissed for gross misconduct.
Our Ipswich friends, doubtless, were congratulating
themselves that the new official would be of a different stamp to his
predecessor - that McCrohon, who had for two long years been a staunch
teetotaller, would not again be found guilty of the besetting sin.
The self-esteem of the humble Constable was soon to soar to unknown
heights uplifted by the reception provided by the townsfolk of Ipswich as he
stepped ashore from the Brisbane steamer.
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| Sketch of Ipswich Wharf by Conrad Martens |
Their expectations, however, were doomed to be disappointed.
Mr. McCrohon, as a plain Dogberry[2],
was well enough in his way; but the moment the coveted title of District
Constable was conferred, he was quite another man. Unlooked-for titles, like unlooked
riches, have turned many a man's head, and so it was with McCrohon.
On his arrival at the quiet town of Ipswich, Mr. McCrohon
was the "observed of all observers;" the inhabitants flocked to the
wharf to catch a glimpse of the great D.C. then, for the first time, come
amongst them to assume the onerous duties of his dreaded office.
Even the little urchins about the town participated in
the excitement, and sung out most lustily for an extra supply of lollys. Mr.
McCrohon suddenly found himself an important personage - a rising man. He was
placed there to do something, and something he thought must be done, and that
promptly.
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| Early Panorama of Ipswich |
On reaching his new Headquarters, the remade Dogberry was keen to stamp
his authority on his subordinates and started by evicting his deputy in biblical style from his quarters and suborning the same for his own use.
Elevated as he now was, in more senses than one --
thoroughly conscious of his own power and dignity - one of his first official
acts was to turn one of his subordinates out of his quarters:-
"Arise, arise," said he to his trembling Sub, "go to thy father, and say, I, I, District Constable McCrohon, desired' thee to vanish!"
"Arise, arise," said he to his trembling Sub, "go to thy father, and say, I, I, District Constable McCrohon, desired' thee to vanish!"
Poor Magrath looked, imploringly at his superior, but the
mandate had gone forth, and budge he must. Having thus impressed his "Sub" with an idea of the vast extent of his power, the great D. C., cane
in hand, and as erect as "a yard of pump water," took a stroll round
the town; the "Sub" following at a respectful distance.
D.C. Dogberry then set off to tour his new dominion, acolyte in tow.
His initial ports of call were the taverns. His new found prestige effervesced as he was respectfully welcomed.
Unfortunately his pledge of sobriety soon fell by the way under the surge of
hospitality, gratis of course, unleashed by the landlords, hopeful of future good relations with the lawman.
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| Interior of a Colonial Tavern |
Of course, the taverns claimed his first attention, and
excited his surprise, which feeling ripened into admiration, after he had paid
his respects to the inmates, and had partaken of their hospitality. Mr.
McCrohon was received kindly - was treated handsomely, and had he acted wisely
might have lived there happy and respected in his station of life, but an
overweening conceit of his newly-created dignity, marred all his prospects.
Predictably the day would not end well, for D.C. Dogberry now
invigorated by all the bonhomie of the tavern crowd, decided to make one more
call on his way back to his purloined quarters. The Ipswich Correspondent
reconstructed the conversation that ensued.
Having enjoyed himself to his heart's content, he was
going home to his lodgings; a facetious idea struck him, and he proceeded forthwith
to carry it out. He thought that it would be a capital joke to call at the Doctor's
house, and ask him to "shout." On rapping at the door, he was
admitted, and the following colloquy took place:
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| The ever popular colonial tipple |
McCrohon - I say, Doctor (hiccup), have you got any g-g-gin
(hiccup)?
Doctor - What sort of gin?
McCrohon - Why, any (hiccup) s-s-sort of gin (the last
word was whispered).
Doctor - (Good humouredly) I have got oxy-gin, hydro-gin,
and nitro-gin, which of the three will you have?
McCrohon-Why, any sort of gin, as I said bef- (the last syllable was inaudible), any
sort of gin, Sir. Mix 'em, mix-a little hot water, and su-su-(here the worthy
D. C. again sung small, and gave a knowing wink).
The Doctor, however, cut short the conversation, by
peremptorily ordering the D. C. to leave the house, which the official, to his
credit be it spoken, immediately did, and retired to his lodgings, where,
doubtless, he afterwards found that the evening's amusement would not bear the morning's
reflection.
It did not take long for reports of the adventures of the Ipswich District
Constable to reach Headquarters in Brisbane. He soon found himself on the wrong
side of the Bench.
The particulars of his unhappy debut in Ipswich, having
become known to the Magistrates, he was immediately summoned before the
Brisbane Bench and called upon to account for his eccentric behaviour. On
Tuesday, Mr. McCrohon accordingly appeared, and in his defence stated that the
Magistrates were misinformed respecting his doings at Ipswich.
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| Early View Of Queen Street, Brisbane |
To his credit the Dogberry did his best to create a defence based on a
factional conspiracy, although he was not given the opportunity to progress the
thesis.
"Sir," said McCrohon, addressing himself to the
Police Magistrate, " I met with hostile feelings on the part of the
inhabitants the very moment I put my foot on their shores; I Sir, have been
made the victim of a faction; I Sir,"-
Here however he was suddenly brought up, by the Police
Magistrate, who stopped his oratorical display, by informing him, that his
turning out Magrath was an act of impertinence beyond the scope of his
authority, and that he knew quite enough to convince him, that he (McCrohon)
was not a proper person to hold the office of District Constable; he should,
therefore, reduce him to his former situation, and if he did not conduct
himself properly for the future, he would be dismissed from the force without
ceremony. McCrohon left the office with the air of an injured man.
Reduced to the ranks the erstwhile District Constable was left but to
ponder his brush with power and glory.
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