Patrick Mullins is a Canberra-based writer and author of six books, including Tiberius with a Telephone (2018), The Trials of Portnoy (2020), and The Stained Man (2026).

He has a PhD from the University of Canberra and is an adjunct associate professor at the ANU’s National Centre of Biography.

Patrick is on Justinian’s Couch, talking of his work about the notorious Sydney solicitor and politician Richard Denis Meagher and the prosecution of George Dean – one of the great scandals of the late nineteenth century.

Plus, a reappraisal of Billy McMahon.

Can you describe your character in three words?

Yes, I can.

What is your favourite work of literature?

War and Peace.

And your favourite film?

Midnight in Paris.

What has been a formative experience?

A few years ago, I learned my blood type: B+. That felt right.

Why did you want to be a writer?

Like many, I came to writing as a reader, first. That remains foremost for me: I want to write sentences and paragraphs that are a pleasure to read.

What has been the trajectory of your career?

Shallow.

What inspired your interest in the notorious Sydney lawyer and politician Richard Denis Meagher, the subject of your latest book The Stained Man?

For readers not aware – Meagher gained fame during the Dean case, a dramatic criminal and political scandal that occupied headlines for the bulk of 1895. He was lifted to dizzying heights by it, then plunged into disgrace by it.

I was intrigued to know whether his subsequent, lengthy political career – spent in the orbit of people like Edmund Barton, George Reid, and Billy Hughes; involved in issues of the day like Federation, the First World War, and Labor’s rise to power; featuring a good deal of colourful oratory – was atonement, or a cynical effort at whitewashing his reputation.

What lessons for contemporary lawyer-politicians can be drawn from Meagher’s roller-coaster career?

Persistence will get you further than talent – but a talent with words will ensure you’re quoted.

You wrote an insightful biography of Billy McMahon – Tiberius with a Telephone. He was ridiculed as a Prime Minister, but did you discover creditable aspects of his life and work that have been overlooked?

The ridiculous figure of popular memory isn’t wholly incorrect, but it is incomplete.

McMahon was a minister for twenty years before he became prime minister, and during that time he was generally accounted a success.

He fought tough battles over protectionism and Vietnam; aroused powerful enemies in Menzies and McEwen and Gorton; and was involved in some sensational scandals – Holt’s disappearance and death, most notably.

Explaining and how he endured in these years – to the point of becoming prime minister – revealed depths and qualities that the caricature doesn’t capture: judgement, ruthlessness, an eye for PR, and persistence. Explaining why a man ostensibly so well prepared for the top job was so inadequate for it also required nuance that a caricature can’t account for.

In the end, McMahon was both better and worse at the job of prime minister than the caricature suggests.

What is your next project?

Learning how to replace the rotten bit of fascia on the front of my house.

What are the challenges for a self-employed historian/writer?

Putting food on the table and a roof – even one slightly rotten – over the head.

What is your favourite meal?

Pasta al pomodoro.

If you were a foodstuff, what would you be?

In the long run, Richard, we’re all worm food already.

What media do you consume?

I read the ABC, Herald, and Australian most weekdays; the New Yorker most weeks; Australian Book Review and Monthly most months; and the Quarterly Essay most quarters.

When are you happiest?

When I’m cooking dinner with my daughter, or kicking my legs beneath a desk at the National Library of Australia.