Canberra 100 Today |
March 12, 2013
Our No.1 city, Canberra was born on a day of knockabout pomp and picnics.
It was 100 ago today that they set out, from early in the morning, their various transports raising billows of ruddy-coloured dust, to Kurrajong Hill, where they were met by hundreds of Canberrans at the federal capital site. They just had to be there when, at noon, Gertrude , Lady Denman, wife of the governor-general Lord Thomas Denman, unleashed the well-kept secret of what the federal capital city was to be called.
But wait!I hear the alert among you exclaim. It cant be correct to call these people Canberrans since, until later that day when Lady Denman spoke the mystical word Canberra, there were no such things as Canberrans.
That is wrong. The federal capital site had been called Canberra for a very long time. The dear old church there had within living memory always been the Canberra Church. For the locals this place already was Canberra. The prospect that it might have its name changed to anything, let alone to one of the horrors rumoured to be in the running, was upsetting.
The site that people descended on for the day (VIPs coming on special trains from Sydney and Melbourne to Queanbeyan whence they were taken on in a fleet of newfangled horseless carriages) was totally pastoral. There were just 1 people in the whole federal territory, hopelessly outnumbered by 320,000 sheep.
There were no roads and those coming and going (950 extra horses were brought in by the Light Horsemen) disturbed whirlwinds of muck. Sydneys Sun reported afterwards that it is doubtful whether so many people have ever had such a dusty ride .
And yet the site was greentinged . In the days before there had been terrific storms. The men of the Third Light Horse shivering in their hail-lashed tents said that their choice of the citys name was Antarctica .
A grandstand had been erected for just 500 guests. Minister for home affairs and MC for the day King OMalley had insisted on a manageably modest occasion.
Lord and Lady Denman shimmered to the ceremony site from their base at the vice-regal camp . His Excellency arrived at 11.30am. Regimental bands tootled a brassy national anthem. The Union Jack was sent fluttering by the same breeze that frolicked in Lady Denmans plumes.
The few minutes of film of the day show at this stage the occasional off-leash dog ambling among Very Important Ankles, lending informality to a whole day of unpretentious, knockabout pomp.
The grandstand was set around the foundation stones for a Commencement column. The symbolic laying of these stones came first , the governor-general , prime minister Andrew Fisher and minister OMalley cheerfully laying a stone each with his own fabulous ivoryhandled trowel made of Australian gold.
Then it was time for what everyone was there for.
Spine-tinglingly the name (chosen by cabinet) had not been leaked, partly because with no decision made until very late there had been nothing to leak. The public had deluged the Department of Home Affairs with 750 suggested names. Those there on Kurrajong Hill felt certain that some were words that could never pass Lady Denmans vice-regal lips (surely Eros, Cooee, Swindleville and Kangaremu had no chance). And yet one could imagine a government plumping for such suggestions as Federata, Parkes, Myola, or OMalleys choice, Shakespeare.
Lady Denman walked out onto a platform that had been laid on top of the freshly laid foundation stones. Now, on an otherwise totally secular day unbothered by any God-bothering (OMalleys doing), everyone sang the gladsome old hymn the Old Hundredth ( All people that on earth do dwell ).
There wasa flourish of trumpets . Her slender, young, Romannosed Excellency stepped forward in her perfect, lime-green gown. Into her fashionably-gloved hands had been pressed a golden cigarette case, a thoughtful present acknowledging the unorthodox Gertrudes working-class vice.
She tooka paper from this useful casket and in a clear voice exclaimed: I name the Capital of Australia, Canberra [putting the emphasis on the Can and not where bogans continue to put it, on the berra].
Journalists saw how as the word spread among those who hadnt been within earshot of Her Excellency there was true, deeply relieved delirium from the locals.
Cannon kaboomed, 21 times, a royal salute that announced to all creatures that within earshot did dwell (did the 320,000 sheep, startled , look up?) that the future city now had a name.
In the end, home affairs boss of the time C. S. Daley was to recall, Cabinet tooka logical and unembarrassing way out of the difficulty [the plethora of suggested names] by choosing the existing place name, Canberra.
There are many theories surrounding the origins of the name. Journalist Paul Daley, in his recent book bearing the capitals title, writes that the name is a corruption of the Aboriginal word Ngambri - meaning cleavage. Settler James Ainslie was guided by Aboriginals to the area in 1825. Within a year, his neighbour J.J. Moore referred to the area as Canberry ina letter to authorities . Right through the early 1800s there were written references to the area as Canburry, Canbery and Kamberri.
Families and groups of friends took up various positions beneath trees, where fireplaces and water had been provided for picnickers.
The guests retired to a marquee for lunch and toasts (notably to the king) and speeches galore. The governor-general said: To those who criticise the choice of locality [there were lots of them, the Canberra site had only beaten others by a platypuss whisker] I would recall this phrase: There are no points of the compass on the chart of true patriotism. The time for doubt, misgiving and criticism, is past.
Yes, how it would distress His Excellency to know that even today there are some so lacking in true patriotism that they say unkind things about Canberra.
The occasion attracted some fine journalism, which included some pioneeringly fast telegraphic transmissions of the news to Australias cities and the world, and some lovely writing.
For The Sydney Morning Herald Viator contributed an enchanting overview of the day.
Since early morning we had all been engaged in a stately and novel ceremony .. . but at long last, the day waning into a mellow, golden afternoon, the note of departure began, and people moved away in all kinds of vehicles , on horseback, on bicycles, and on foot, towards their several homes.
And sitting down on a carpenters trestle [I reflected ] that in an hour or two peace and silence and loneliness would return and resume their own. What would become of this deserted landscape ? Fox and dingo and possum and rabbit might come and lurk about all these deserted stones. . . under the red seats of the mighty, and around the empty flagstaffs . The sickle of a young moon would faintly light the darkness. All the [earlier] pomp and ceremony, all this life and all this echo of political energy, how soon lapsed again into the vast immobility of brooding night . . . But as great cities grow in an ample span of years, the City Beautiful and Elect will arise upon these hills, and by these streams, worthy of the nation.
Source: TheAge | Ian Warden.
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