A lesson in Melbourne Misfits and Civic Pride

I did it! I gave in and took the busman's holiday today. I usually resist going into libraries when vacationing because – well – I'm on holiday why would I want to think about work? She's clearly not a librarian then, I hear my bibliophilic colleagues huff, look she even makes up words not in the OED like bibliophilic. What can I say, I love libraries and all they represent as well as what they have personally meant to me but I'm here as a writer not a librarian. But writers need libraries right? In fact everyone needs libraries whether they use them or not. The reason we need the existence of libraries is to elevate our communities to societies and transcend civil into civilisation. Libraries are egalitarian, they are free and they provide everyone from the coated to the coatless with the tools to rise. But only if their hands are clean according to the original charter. Most people, regardless of whether they have ever stepped into a public library in their life, support that principle.

So that makes the State Library of Victoria, an elegant stately building on a gracious lawn at the top of the city grid, one of the most important buildings in Melbourne. And I visited it today, she says puffing like a peacock. It is simply the most beautiful building I have seen lately and over the last couple of weeks I have seen some impressive places big and small. Classically influenced Victorian splendour are words to describe the library inside and out. Starting at the lawn and front steps it is already a place Melbourne citizens frequent. Lunchtime crowds make the most of its green sanctuary in a pushy urban jungle. Freedom and space abound in the library environment.

I could wax rapturously lyrical for hours about the architecture of the State Library but I won't, I'll just tell you all that you need to come here and see it for yourselves as one of Louise's Wonders of the World. Instead I will talk about a current exhibition.

“The Changing Face of Victoria” succinctly chronicles Melbourne's history. Navigating as I have been lately via the who's who of streets, I was hungering for some facts about this city, names and places and where better to find them than the library?

Let's start with the founding fathers, all three of them, John Batman, George Evans and John Fawkner. Fawkner at least was a convict criminal and Batman sure sounded like one from the narration. He allegedly bought the land at Port Phillip from the Aborigines for the usual price of beads and blankets (no giving these natives guns like New Zealand). The next thing he did was swagger around arrogantly in a Batman cape claiming that he was the greatest owner of pastoral land in the World. The village of Melbourne would be established where Batman dictated and it was, at Queensbridge. Sounds like a bit of an oik to me especially when the scribbles on his treaty that he claimed to be the illiterate signatures of the Aborigine chiefs looked suspiciously like doodles made in his own journals. What was he doing, practising forging their x marks?

George Evans was the only one of the three original founders to settle permanently in Port Phillip at Sunbury. I couldn't help snickering at the unlikely name he chose for his homestead and feel that the authors of the exhibition must also have seen the childishly humorous side to make mention of the 'Emu Bottom' estate. George, what were you thinking? Can language have changed that much that Emu Bottom had completely different connotations back then? I think not!!! If you put that as your address on your tax form, they wouldn't believe you. He lives where? Up who's bottom?!

Fawkner and a fellow convict William Buckley, were escapees from the infamous Van Diemen's Land penal colony of Sorrento. Buckley took refuge with the Aboriginal Wathaurung people forming a unique bond between white settler and native tribe. When he stumbled back to Port Phillip almost thirty years later however, he completely let the side down. William Buckley, clad in Aboriginal garb complete with paint, had to be recognised by his tattoo and dental records (nah, I'm joking about the teeth) because apparently he had forgotten how to speak English. Forgotten English?! Oh come on! I can believe that he might have been a bit rusty but completely lost the ability? Had he also forgotten how to ride a bike, tie his shoe lace or put on pants?

The settlers started coming to the village on the green at Queensbridge in droves. The Colonial Government got cross and waved their arms yelling “stop it! Go away! We're not ready!” But still they came, gravitating to 'Marvellous Melbourne' and eventually the authorities threw their hands up in disgust and pouted, “oh go on then if you must, just keep the noise down.”

But noise is kinda inevitable when your mum names you Ned, Ned Kelly that is. They have a great display of that bush larrikin's armour at the library right now. Wow it's impressive. Impressive that the gang ever let Neddy go out wearing such a crime against fashion darling. Riddling it with bullet holes to make it look authentic didn't help but I did like the lippet. Oh, come on people THE LIPPET, the flap covering his chop, the family jewels to those not of Aussie-Polish decent. The important body bits Ned instructed his kindergarten blacksmith too protect were; head, shoulders, chest, back and chop. They of course shot him in the leg and he fell over.