9 May 1935

BITTER FEUD BETWEEN COLLECTOR OF CUSTOMS AND EDITOR 

Ville de Bordeaux Incident Leads To Criminal Action

Rivalry between public men in Adelaide began with the controversy between Governor Hindmarsh and Colonel Light soon after the settlement was founded ; but a longer and quite as bitter enmity existed between George Stephenson, the first editor of "The Register," and R. R. Torrens, the Collector of Customs. It ended with Torrens being charged with feloniously assaulting and wounding Stephenson. 

The affair seems to have started in 1841, when the Collector of Customs seized the Ville de Bordeaux, a French vessel, for an alleged breach of the Customs regulations. It was decided that the seizure was illegal after involved law suits. At this time, Stephenson had bitterly attacked the Collector of Customs for seizing the vessel and for inefficiency in handling the matter. Torrens replied that he knew his business, "theoretically and practically." Stephenson then periodically brought this phrase to the front with telling effect. This went on for seven years. 

Stephenson left "The Register" about 1844, and edited the "South Australian Gazette," the rival of his former paper, but continued his attacks on Torrens with all his old vigor. In 1848, he wrote an article, "Theoretical and Practical Again," directed at Torrens; but what moved Torrens to revenge was a sketch, "Scenes at the Port" by "Punch."  Scene 4, which was set in the Collector's room, read as follows: — 

Landing Waiter— Mr. Cassell has arrived.
Collector— The devil he has! Here's a go! What's to be done?
Landing Waiter— Tell him you know your duty theoretically and practically.
Collector — Yes, no doubt about it; but he will ask for proofs. I must try "soft sawder" — tip him a bit of the blarney.
Cassell (landing from boat)— Where's the Collector? Where are all the officers? How is this? No attendance, no respect!
Boatmen— Gem'men from Port Phillip don't meet with much here. You have a ticket, perhaps?
Cassell— Silence, fellow! Where is the Customs House? Where is Torrens? I'm the inspector.
Boatman— Well, sir, to speak the truth on't, when you stump up one pound one for the boat hire, we may tell you where the Custom House is, but where the collector is ye mun find out for yoursell'n; and dom'd lucky you'll be to catch 'un!
Landing Waiter (arrives)— Avast there, Bill. Whose traps are these?
Boatman — This here gem'men from Port Phillip.
Landing Waiter (to Cassell)— That won't do. What have you got in the trunk?
Cassell— Amongst other things, my commission from the Lords of the Treasury to Inspect the Customs.
Landing waiter suddenly capitulates.
Boatmen hand out Mr. Cassell's effects. Seven other waiters rush forward to assist, accompanied by a numerous collection of port agents followed by boat-men, bullock drivers, &c. Mr. Cassell forms a grand procession and marches to the Customs House, where he is received by the first clerk. Enter the collector.
Cassell— You are the collector, I presume.
Collector (making a profound bow) — I have the honor, I believe, of addressing Mr. Cassell?
Cassell— You have. I am here in discharge of a most unpleasant duty.
Collector— Oh! We shall do our utmost to make it quite pleasant —
Cassell— Indeed, my orders are peremptory and —
Collector— I learnt my business theoretically and practically at Cork.
Cassell— Yes. I heard you were there a few days; but the reports from Grey (governor) and others have led to doubts.
Collector— All slander and ignorance.
Cassell— delighted to hear it, but the facts are —

 * * * * Scene 5 is set in the dining-room at Irish Town (Torrens was an Irishman) , and Cassell and the Collector are carousing.
Cassell— Well, Torrens, as I was saying, you are a pattern of a collector, and so I shall report you— able, zealous, never absent from duty, on all occasions— always— ever— (hesitates) .
Collector— Practically and theoretically acquainted with my duty. 

* * * * The outcome of this final act of provocation was that while Stephenson was walking along Hindley street (near the Bank of Australasia) with Captain O'Halloran; clerk of the council, Torrens rushed at him, and hit him on the face with a thick walking stick, "I have an account to settle with you, sir," he exclaimed. "I have a score against you for the last seven years." "I will make you repent this," was Stephenson's rejoinder, and he set about it at once.

 Stephenson was treated at a nearby chemist's and went home unaffected by the blow. It was a matter of honor, however, and he charged Torrens with having feloniously assaulted and wounded him. A case in the Civil Court was also instituted, and from this Stephenson received £250 damages and a public apology. It was confidently expected that he would, having won this case, drop the other one. 

'The 'Register,' which had little time for its former editor, commented on this in no uncertain terms: — "How generous, how considerate. Reader, draw nigh and be hold a man who three months ago determinedly (we do not say vindictively) pressed a charge of felony against his assailant, at the same time solemnly declaring he believed he meditated murder, now willing to forgo the criminal proceedings. But why these bowels of compassion?— these mysterious relentings? — this sudden rush of crocodile tears? Did the private prosecutor think, upon reflection, that Mr. Torrens did not mean to murder him, but only degrade him as a gentleman? No. Was he willing to believe that, after all, he was betrayed into the rash act in a moment of excitement or provocation? No such thing. Had the Scripture doctrine of forgiveness to enemies flasked upon his slumbering conscience? No, no. But he woke from a golden dream and found it a reality!" 

Mr. Stephenson, despite the 'Register's' belief, did not drop the prosecution, and Torrens appeared before the Criminal Court on a felony charge. No sooner had the case begun than Stephenson said he did not wish the prosecution to proceed. It was decided, however, that there was a case to answer, but, after hearing evidence, the jury retired for only five minutes before returning a verdict that Torrens was not guilty on the charge of felonious assault and wounding, but guilty of common assault. He was bound over to keep the peace for 12 months. 

'The Felony Farce' was 'The Register's' comment on the trial, and it extended its sympathy to Torrens, "a target for the barbed arrows and bitter gibes of a veteran archer of the press, who has suffered injuries enough to provoke a saint." So ended one of the longest and most bitter feuds in the early days.— C.H.

'The Lord Provides' 

Some years ago two young men came on bicycles to Spalding. They asked a farmer if they might be allowed to camp in his barn for a while, and he agreed to let them do so. They used to be at 'home' most of the day, but towards evening they would ride off on their bicycles and would not return until late at night. 

While returning from the township one afternoon I overtook one of them pushing home on his bicycle, which was laden with provisions. We got into conversation and I asked him what he was doing around these parts. 'Preaching,' he replied. 'What religion?' I asked. 'No particular religion,' he said. 'We just preach the Gospel.' 'Do you get paid for it?' 'Oh no! The Lord provides.' 

About a week later the farmer told them that they would have to move on, as he required the barn for storage purposes. They readily did so, and never came to the district again. Some time later I heard of a case in a town several miles away of an old lady who was visited by these two young 'preachers.' They asked her if she could lend £50 to the Lord, as He was in need of that sum. She said that she would do so readily enough if she only knew how to give it to Him. 

"Oh, that is easy," they replied. "Just leave the money on that table by the window and leave the window open, and the Lord will receive it all right." She did so, and as it was gone in the morning, she presumed that the Lord must have got it— 'Rat-Bag. '

[See rebuttal in a Letter to the Editor by "Bag The Rat" 6 June 1935]

Rising To The Occasion 

Some years ago in the Murray district there used to be a clergyman who was noted for the shortness of memory. He carried about with him a slip of paper on which was written the brief marriage service that he used when called upon to perform that ceremony. He never trusted himself to begin the service without reference to this document. 

One Saturday afternoon, at a church fair, he was approached by a young couple, who expressed their wish to be married then and there. The minister agreed to perform the ceremony, and the three, with witnesses (of whom I was one) retired to the church. There the minister began a fruitless search for the important paper, growing more and more perturbed as each succeeding pocket failed to disclose it.  At last he abandoned the search. 

"Are you willing to marry this woman?" he asked the man, who replied with a prompt "Yes." 

"Are you willing to marry this man?" he asked, turning to the bride. "I am," was the reply. 

"Then," he concluded, in his most impressive tone, "I hereby pronounce you married according to the memorandum left at home in my other trousers pocket."— A.D. 

An Old Find 

It was 50 years or more since Mac had attended school; so he received a special invitation to attend the back-to-school celebrations. While walking to the school he picked up a black handbag containing valuable jewellery. The next day a reward for the finder of the bag appeared in the local paper, along with a warning that any one detaining the bag would be liable to prosecution. But Mac ignored it, and made many bets with his friends at the hotel that he would retain the bag, in spite of all the magistrates and police. 

The woman who lost the property decided to prosecute Mac for unlawful possession. When the case came on Mac asked the presiding justice how long it was since the treasure was lost. "Last week," said the magistrate. "Why did you ask me that?" 

"Because I found a bag when I was going to school," said Mac. 

"When you were going to school!" replied the astonished justice, who did not know the facts of the case. "Why that would be before my time! The case is dismissed!"— A.D.